“And thereafter Stephen put Pope Formosus out of his tomb, and placed him in the Apostolic throne, and a deacon was delegated to answer for him, and his apostolic vestment was stripped off, and dragged across the basilica; and blood was flowing from his mouth, and he was thrown into the river.” ~ Annales Alamannici, describing the events in Rome for the year 897
In one of the most surreal episodes of medieval history, a pope put the corpse of his predecessor on trial. Known as the Cadaver Synod, this ninth-century event has long been remembered for its theatrical horror. Historians have often dismissed the spectacle as an act of madness or petty revenge. But recent research suggests the trial was far more calculated as well as deeply rooted in the political and religious crises of its time.
The accused in the Cadaver Synod was Pope Formosus, who occupied the papal throne from 891 to 896. Before becoming pope, Formosus had an eventful and often controversial ecclesiastical career. He served as Bishop of Portus and gained recognition for his efforts to convert the Bulgarians to Roman Catholicism. But his rising influence also earned him enemies within the papal court. He was accused of plotting to become the Archbishop of Bulgaria—possibly even the pope—and was excommunicated. His fortunes turned when a new pope reversed the decision, restoring him to his bishopric. Eventually, Formosus was elected pope.
A Failing Empire
Formosus’ tenure coincided with the waning days of the Carolingian Empire. In the late ninth century, Western Europe was splintering. The empire faced pressure from Viking raids in the north and Muslim incursions from the south. After the ineffective reign of Emperor Charles the Fat, who was deposed in 887 and died weeks later, the empire fragmented. No single leader emerged with the strength to unite it. The chronicler Regino of Prum expertly sums up the situation in the year 888, following the death of Charles:
After his death the kingdoms which had obeyed his authority, just as though a legitimate heir were lacking, dissolved into separate parts and, without waiting for a natural lord, each decided to create a king from its own guts. This was the cause of great wars; not because the Franks lacked leaders who by nobility, courage and wisdom were capable of ruling the kingdoms, but rather because the equality of descent, authority and power increased the discord among them; none so outshone the others that the rest deigned to submit to his rule. For Francia would have produced many leaders capable to controlling the government of the kingdom, had not fortune equipped them to destroy each other in the competition for power.
As monarchs jostled for dominance, the papacy found itself in the middle. Since Charlemagne’s coronation in 800, pope’s claimed only they could legitimately crown an emperor. However, this once-prized authority now became dangerous. As Michael Edward Moore notes, “by the time of Formosus, the ability to anoint the emperors was proving to be a curse more than a blessing.”
A Papacy in Crisis
A 16th century depiction of Formosus’ Papacy, from the Facial Chronicle
Formosus would become a bitter enemy of Guy III of Spoleto, the reigning Holy Roman Emperor. Seeking to counter Spoleto’s influence in Rome, Formosus turned to Arnulf of Carinthia, King of East Francia. According to some accounts, he invited Arnulf to invade Italy and liberate the papacy. Arnulf succeeded, and Formosus crowned him emperor on February 22, 896.
Formosus died just weeks later, on April 4. His immediate successor, Boniface VI, reigned for only fifteen days before dying—likely of gout. He was followed by Stephen VI, a longtime critic of Formosus.
At that time, Arnulf had suffered a stroke and retreated north of the Alps. His sudden absence left Rome vulnerable to the resurgence of the Spoletan faction, now led by Guy’s son Lambert. Pope Stephen VI found himself in a precarious position, without his imperial patron and surrounded by pro-Spoletan forces.
The Cadaver Synod Begins
Until recently, the historical consensus was that Pope Stephen VI ordered that the tomb of Formosus be opened and his body exhumed in January 897. He wanted the former pope put on trial, allegedly for supporting King Arnulf in becoming emperor, and for coveting the papacy years before. He was charged with breaking canon law, perjury, and illegally serving as a bishop. Even if Formosus had been dead for several months, Stephen was eager to have his revenge on his corpse.
The decaying body was propped up on a throne, and a trial was held with Pope Stephen acting as prosecutor. Meanwhile, a young deacon was given the responsibility of defending Formosus, while a stunned audience watched the grotesque spectacle. According to various sources, Pope Stephen shouted at his dead predecessor, demanding he answer the charges. One chronicler, Liutprand of Cremona, noted that Stephen asked, “When you were bishop of Porto, why did you usurp the universal Roman See in such a spirit of ambition?”
The macabre spectacle reached its foregone conclusion—Formosus was found guilty. His body was stripped of its papal vestments, and three fingers were cut from his right hand—those he used to bless people. Finally, the body was tossed into the Tiber River. However, the next day it was recovered by monks and secretly buried in a monastery.
Revisiting the Motives for the Trial
Pope Stephen VI depicted in hte Nuremberg Chronicle
Traditional explanations have blamed the Spoletan faction for the Cadaver Synod, suggesting it was orchestrated by Lambert and his mother Ageltrude as revenge. But historian William S. Monroe disputes this narrative, noting that no reliable source connects Lambert to the trial. In fact, Lambert may have been displeased with it, as he would later confirm Formosan ordinations.
Instead, Monroe contends that Pope Stephen VI, originally aligned with Arnulf, was acting out of desperation. With Arnulf incapacitated and the Spoletans returning to Rome, Stephen saw an opportunity to signal loyalty by discrediting Arnulf’s papal ally, Formosus. The trial, in this reading, was a political offering meant to salvage his position.
But Monroe goes further. He argues that the Cadaver Synod was not merely about legalities or politics—it was about memory and sanctity. After his death, Formosus may have been venerated as a martyr by some Romans. The trial, with its ritual degradation of the body, was an attempt to erase that sanctity. As Monroe explains:
The best explanation, then, of the Cadaver Synod is that Formosus was considered by some people in Rome to be a very holy man, and even, perhaps, a martyr… By desecrating the body, and putting it on trial, they hoped to stain the former pope with the damnatio memoriae. But, in case even that failed, they disposed of the body itself, to leave no relics and no tomb around which a cult could be sustained.
This calculated effort to destroy both Formosus’ memory and physical remains reflects the deeper anxieties of a Church caught in political upheaval.
A Failed Strategy and Its Aftermath
If this was Stephen’s plan, it failed catastrophically. The grotesque nature of the synod alienated many, and Lambert returned to Rome later that year. Stephen VI was deposed, imprisoned, and strangled. In 898, a new synod annulled the Cadaver Synod’s rulings, rehabilitated Formosus, and ordered a proper reburial of his body.
The entire affair cast a long shadow over the Church. The spectacle of the Cadaver Synod—its theatricality, its desecration of a pope, its fusion of law and horror—became a symbol of the papacy’s decline.
A Low Point in the History of the Papacy
Indeed, the tenth century would be marked by chaos in the Church. Local Roman elite families vied for control of the papacy, often using violence, bribery, or manipulation. Several popes were murdered, imprisoned, or discredited. Not until the mid-eleventh century—under the reforms initiated by Pope Leo IX and others—would the papacy regain a measure of its moral and political authority.
The Cadaver Synod remains one of the most bizarre events in the history of the Church. But as Monroe’s work reminds us, it was not simply an aberration—it was a product of a time when the lines between justice, vengeance, and memory were blurred. Through the trial of a corpse, Stephen VI sought to reshape the past—but ended up condemned by it.
Further Readings:
William S. Monroe, “A New Look at the Cadaver Synod,” Proceedings of the XV International Congress of Medieval Canon Law, Paris, July 2016 (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 2022). See also his PhD Dissertation, The Trials of Pope Formosus, which was done at Columbia University in 2021.
“And thereafter Stephen put Pope Formosus out of his tomb, and placed him in the Apostolic throne, and a deacon was delegated to answer for him, and his apostolic vestment was stripped off, and dragged across the basilica; and blood was flowing from his mouth, and he was thrown into the river.” ~ Annales Alamannici, describing the events in Rome for the year 897
In one of the most surreal episodes of medieval history, a pope put the corpse of his predecessor on trial. Known as the Cadaver Synod, this ninth-century event has long been remembered for its theatrical horror. Historians have often dismissed the spectacle as an act of madness or petty revenge. But recent research suggests the trial was far more calculated as well as deeply rooted in the political and religious crises of its time.
The accused in the Cadaver Synod was Pope Formosus, who occupied the papal throne from 891 to 896. Before becoming pope, Formosus had an eventful and often controversial ecclesiastical career. He served as Bishop of Portus and gained recognition for his efforts to convert the Bulgarians to Roman Catholicism. But his rising influence also earned him enemies within the papal court. He was accused of plotting to become the Archbishop of Bulgaria—possibly even the pope—and was excommunicated. His fortunes turned when a new pope reversed the decision, restoring him to his bishopric. Eventually, Formosus was elected pope.
A Failing Empire
Formosus’ tenure coincided with the waning days of the Carolingian Empire. In the late ninth century, Western Europe was splintering. The empire faced pressure from Viking raids in the north and Muslim incursions from the south. After the ineffective reign of Emperor Charles the Fat, who was deposed in 887 and died weeks later, the empire fragmented. No single leader emerged with the strength to unite it. The chronicler Regino of Prum expertly sums up the situation in the year 888, following the death of Charles:
After his death the kingdoms which had obeyed his authority, just as though a legitimate heir were lacking, dissolved into separate parts and, without waiting for a natural lord, each decided to create a king from its own guts. This was the cause of great wars; not because the Franks lacked leaders who by nobility, courage and wisdom were capable of ruling the kingdoms, but rather because the equality of descent, authority and power increased the discord among them; none so outshone the others that the rest deigned to submit to his rule. For Francia would have produced many leaders capable to controlling the government of the kingdom, had not fortune equipped them to destroy each other in the competition for power.
As monarchs jostled for dominance, the papacy found itself in the middle. Since Charlemagne’s coronation in 800, pope’s claimed only they could legitimately crown an emperor. However, this once-prized authority now became dangerous. As Michael Edward Moore notes, “by the time of Formosus, the ability to anoint the emperors was proving to be a curse more than a blessing.”
A Papacy in Crisis
Formosus would become a bitter enemy of Guy III of Spoleto, the reigning Holy Roman Emperor. Seeking to counter Spoleto’s influence in Rome, Formosus turned to Arnulf of Carinthia, King of East Francia. According to some accounts, he invited Arnulf to invade Italy and liberate the papacy. Arnulf succeeded, and Formosus crowned him emperor on February 22, 896.
Formosus died just weeks later, on April 4. His immediate successor, Boniface VI, reigned for only fifteen days before dying—likely of gout. He was followed by Stephen VI, a longtime critic of Formosus.
At that time, Arnulf had suffered a stroke and retreated north of the Alps. His sudden absence left Rome vulnerable to the resurgence of the Spoletan faction, now led by Guy’s son Lambert. Pope Stephen VI found himself in a precarious position, without his imperial patron and surrounded by pro-Spoletan forces.
The Cadaver Synod Begins
Until recently, the historical consensus was that Pope Stephen VI ordered that the tomb of Formosus be opened and his body exhumed in January 897. He wanted the former pope put on trial, allegedly for supporting King Arnulf in becoming emperor, and for coveting the papacy years before. He was charged with breaking canon law, perjury, and illegally serving as a bishop. Even if Formosus had been dead for several months, Stephen was eager to have his revenge on his corpse.
The decaying body was propped up on a throne, and a trial was held with Pope Stephen acting as prosecutor. Meanwhile, a young deacon was given the responsibility of defending Formosus, while a stunned audience watched the grotesque spectacle. According to various sources, Pope Stephen shouted at his dead predecessor, demanding he answer the charges. One chronicler, Liutprand of Cremona, noted that Stephen asked, “When you were bishop of Porto, why did you usurp the universal Roman See in such a spirit of ambition?”
The macabre spectacle reached its foregone conclusion—Formosus was found guilty. His body was stripped of its papal vestments, and three fingers were cut from his right hand—those he used to bless people. Finally, the body was tossed into the Tiber River. However, the next day it was recovered by monks and secretly buried in a monastery.
Revisiting the Motives for the Trial
Traditional explanations have blamed the Spoletan faction for the Cadaver Synod, suggesting it was orchestrated by Lambert and his mother Ageltrude as revenge. But historian William S. Monroe disputes this narrative, noting that no reliable source connects Lambert to the trial. In fact, Lambert may have been displeased with it, as he would later confirm Formosan ordinations.
Instead, Monroe contends that Pope Stephen VI, originally aligned with Arnulf, was acting out of desperation. With Arnulf incapacitated and the Spoletans returning to Rome, Stephen saw an opportunity to signal loyalty by discrediting Arnulf’s papal ally, Formosus. The trial, in this reading, was a political offering meant to salvage his position.
But Monroe goes further. He argues that the Cadaver Synod was not merely about legalities or politics—it was about memory and sanctity. After his death, Formosus may have been venerated as a martyr by some Romans. The trial, with its ritual degradation of the body, was an attempt to erase that sanctity. As Monroe explains:
The best explanation, then, of the Cadaver Synod is that Formosus was considered by some people in Rome to be a very holy man, and even, perhaps, a martyr… By desecrating the body, and putting it on trial, they hoped to stain the former pope with the damnatio memoriae. But, in case even that failed, they disposed of the body itself, to leave no relics and no tomb around which a cult could be sustained.
This calculated effort to destroy both Formosus’ memory and physical remains reflects the deeper anxieties of a Church caught in political upheaval.
A Failed Strategy and Its Aftermath
If this was Stephen’s plan, it failed catastrophically. The grotesque nature of the synod alienated many, and Lambert returned to Rome later that year. Stephen VI was deposed, imprisoned, and strangled. In 898, a new synod annulled the Cadaver Synod’s rulings, rehabilitated Formosus, and ordered a proper reburial of his body.
The entire affair cast a long shadow over the Church. The spectacle of the Cadaver Synod—its theatricality, its desecration of a pope, its fusion of law and horror—became a symbol of the papacy’s decline.
A Low Point in the History of the Papacy
Indeed, the tenth century would be marked by chaos in the Church. Local Roman elite families vied for control of the papacy, often using violence, bribery, or manipulation. Several popes were murdered, imprisoned, or discredited. Not until the mid-eleventh century—under the reforms initiated by Pope Leo IX and others—would the papacy regain a measure of its moral and political authority.
The Cadaver Synod remains one of the most bizarre events in the history of the Church. But as Monroe’s work reminds us, it was not simply an aberration—it was a product of a time when the lines between justice, vengeance, and memory were blurred. Through the trial of a corpse, Stephen VI sought to reshape the past—but ended up condemned by it.
Further Readings:
William S. Monroe, “A New Look at the Cadaver Synod,” Proceedings of the XV International Congress of Medieval Canon Law, Paris, July 2016 (Città del Vaticano: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 2022). See also his PhD Dissertation, The Trials of Pope Formosus, which was done at Columbia University in 2021.
Michael Edward Moore, “The Attack on Pope Formosus Papal History in an Age of Resentment (875-897)”, Ecclesia et Violentia: Violence Against the Church and Violence Within the Church, eds. Michael E. Moore, Jacek Maciejewski and Radoslav Kotecki (Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2014)
Michael Edward Moore, “The Body of Pope Formosus,” Millenium: Yearbook on the Culture and History of the First Millenium C.E. Vol.9:1 (2012)
The Complete Works of Liudprand of Cremona, trans. By Paolo Squatriti (Catholic University Press of America, 2007)
Top Image: Le Pape Formose et Étienne VII, by Jean-Paul Laurens, created in 1870
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