The Corpse Synod: When a Pope Put Another Pope’s Corpse on Trial

Rome’s Darkest Courtroom

The year was 897. In the heart of Rome, the Eternal City gathered in one of its basilicas, but not for Mass, not for prayer, not even for coronations or celebrations. Instead, the people came to watch a trial unlike any other. At the center of the court sat Pope Stephen VI, seething with fury, robed in papal finery. Before him sat his bishops and judges. And in the defendant’s chair, dressed in the garments of the papacy, sat not a living man, but a corpse.

The body of Pope Formosus, who had died months earlier, had been exhumed from his grave. His decomposed remains were propped up on a throne, dressed in papal vestments, with a deacon appointed to answer questions on behalf of the dead pontiff.

This grotesque spectacle became known as the Cadaver Synod, or the Corpse Synod, one of the most infamous events in medieval history. It was more than a trial — it was a reflection of the violent chaos of the papacy in the 9th century, an age when popes were pawns in the hands of powerful Roman families and politics was soaked in blood.

The Turmoil of the 9th-Century Papacy

To understand why a corpse ended up on trial, one must look at the fractured world of late 9th-century Rome. The papacy was not the spiritual beacon we imagine today but a throne fought over by noble families, bishops, and kings. The Carolingian Empire had splintered, and Italy was a patchwork of competing dukes and warlords. Rome itself was torn by powerful aristocratic factions who sought to control the papal office as a prize.

Formosus had been elected pope in 891 after a long and turbulent career as a bishop. He was respected as a capable diplomat and had negotiated with kings and emperors. But his involvement in politics left him with enemies. He had once sided with Arnulf of Carinthia, a Frankish ruler, against the powerful Spoleto family, who sought control over Italy and influence in Rome. This decision would come back to haunt him even in death.

The Death of Formosus and the Rise of Stephen VI

Formosus reigned for five years, during which he crowned Arnulf as Holy Roman Emperor. But Arnulf fell ill, and the Spoletans quickly regained influence in Rome. When Formosus died in April 896, he was buried with the dignity of a pope, but his enemies were not done with him.

Soon after, Stephen VI rose to the papal throne with the backing of the Spoleto faction. Consumed by their hatred of Formosus and eager to erase his legacy, Stephen did something unthinkable. He ordered the late pope’s body exhumed, placed on trial, and condemned in what became a macabre theatre of vengeance.

The Cadaver Synod: A Courtroom of Horror

The Basilica of St. John Lateran was transformed into a courtroom. The corpse of Formosus, already decaying, was dressed in full papal robes and set upon a throne. A deacon was forced to stand beside the body, answering questions in the dead pope’s name.

The charges were bizarre but politically calculated. Formosus was accused of perjury, of illegally ascending to the papal throne while still bishop of Porto, and of violating church canons. Of course, being dead, he could not defend himself, but that was precisely the point. The trial was a spectacle of humiliation.

Stephen VI raged at the corpse, screaming accusations, while clerics and nobles looked on in horror and fascination. Chroniclers record that the courtroom stank of death, the body’s decay a grotesque backdrop to the pope’s fury. When the inevitable verdict was declared — guilty — Formosus’s corpse was stripped of its sacred vestments. The fingers of his right hand, used in consecrations, were cut off. His body was dragged through the streets of Rome and eventually thrown into the Tiber River.

The Aftermath: Fury Against Stephen VI

If Stephen VI intended to strengthen his position, the Cadaver Synod had the opposite effect. The grotesque trial shocked Rome. Even in an age accustomed to violence, the desecration of a pope’s corpse seemed to cross every line of decency and piety. The people revolted.

Riots broke out in the city, and Stephen VI was deposed and imprisoned. Within months, he was strangled in his cell. The corpse of Formosus, meanwhile, was recovered from the Tiber by sympathetic monks. Later popes annulled the verdict of the Cadaver Synod, restoring Formosus’s honor and condemning the synod as an abomination.

But the damage was done. The papacy of the late 9th century was revealed in all its corruption and chaos, and the story of the Corpse Synod became a symbol of Rome’s darkest days.

Why Did It Happen?

Historians still wrestle with the motivations behind the Cadaver Synod. On one level, it was clearly political. The Spoletans wanted to erase Formosus’s support of Arnulf and secure their dominance in Italy. By condemning Formosus even after death, they invalidated his acts, including the crowning of Arnulf as emperor.

On another level, the synod reflects the brutal theater of medieval power. Humiliation was a weapon as powerful as swords, and dragging a rival’s corpse into court was the ultimate display of dominance. In this sense, the Cadaver Synod was less about theology and more about spectacle, intimidation, and revenge.

It also illustrates the blurred line between sacred and political authority. The papacy was the highest spiritual office in Christendom, but in the 9th century, it was a pawn in the hands of nobles and warlords. The desecration of Formosus showed how far politics could corrupt religion when power was at stake.

The Legacy of the Cadaver Synod

The Cadaver Synod haunted the papacy for generations. Later popes condemned it, annulling its verdicts and attempting to bury the memory. But the image of a corpse dressed as pope, seated in judgment, lingered in chronicles, sermons, and legends.

Medieval writers saw in the synod a symbol of Rome’s moral collapse. Renaissance historians retold the story as evidence of the corruption of the medieval church. Modern readers, encountering it, often wonder whether it could possibly be true. But the records are clear: in 897, a pope did indeed put another pope’s corpse on trial.

The Cadaver Synod also became a cautionary tale. It showed the extremes of hatred and the depths of political vengeance. It illustrated how even sacred institutions could be twisted into tools of humiliation and power struggles. And it reminded later generations that unchecked ambition can turn faith into farce.

A Trial Beyond the Grave

The Cadaver Synod remains one of the strangest and darkest episodes in church history. It was not simply a grotesque trial of a corpse but a reflection of an age when the papacy was a prize for factions, and politics outweighed piety.

Formosus, dragged from his grave, became a victim not of his own sins but of a world consumed by rivalry. Stephen VI, intoxicated by vengeance, destroyed himself in the process. And Rome, shocked by the spectacle, remembered it as a nightmare in the history of the church.

Even today, more than eleven centuries later, the Corpse Synod fascinates and horrifies in equal measure. It reminds us that history is not always noble or rational. Sometimes, it is grotesque.