Imagine waiting for a new boss. Now imagine that wait takes 1,060 days. That is exactly what happened in the 13th century when the Catholic Church basically ground to a halt. If you’ve ever wondered how long was the longest conclave, the answer is a staggering two years, nine months, and two days. It happened in Viterbo, Italy, between 1268 and 1271. It wasn't just a slow vote. It was a complete diplomatic meltdown that got so bad the local townspeople actually ripped the roof off the building to force the Cardinals to make a decision.
History is messy.
Most people think of a papal conclave as this mysterious, efficient process where white smoke pops out of a chimney after a few days of prayer. But the election that eventually chose Pope Gregory X was anything but holy. It was a political cage match. At the time, the Church was caught in a brutal tug-of-war between French interests and Italian interests. Neither side would budge. Not for a week. Not for a month. Not for a year.
The Viterbo Deadlock of 1268
The whole mess started after Pope Clement IV died. Seventeen cardinals gathered in the Palazzo dei Papi in Viterbo. You have to realize that back then, the rules for "conclave" (which literally means "with a key") weren't fully baked yet. There was no strict law saying they had to be locked in until they finished. So, they just... hung out. They debated. They argued about the influence of Charles of Anjou. They ate well.
Months passed.
The cardinals were split into two main camps. On one side, you had the pro-French faction. On the other, the "Pars Karoli," or the Italian cardinals who wanted to keep the papacy’s power local. Because the rules required a two-thirds majority—a standard set by the Third Lateran Council in 1179—they were stuck. Ten cardinals wanted one thing, seven wanted another. Nobody was switching teams.
Why the Longest Conclave Actually Lasted So Long
It’s easy to blame ego, but the geopolitics were genuinely terrifying. The Holy Roman Empire was in a state of "Interregnum," meaning there was no emperor. The King of Sicily was breathing down the neck of the Papal States. Every cardinal in that room knew that the man they picked would either be a puppet for a foreign king or a shield against one.
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The stakes were too high for a quick compromise.
By 1269, the people of Viterbo were losing their minds. Their city was hosting seventeen high-maintenance church officials and their massive entourages, and nothing was getting done. The local economy was strained, and the spiritual vacuum was starting to cause real anxiety across Europe. People began to realize that if the cardinals weren't forced to choose, they might just stay in Viterbo forever.
When the Roof Came Off
This is where the story gets wild. Ranieri Gatti, the Prefect of Viterbo, finally snapped. He was the guy in charge of security and logistics. Along with the Podestà (the city magistrate) Alberto di Montebono, he decided that if the cardinals wanted to act like prisoners of their own indecision, he would treat them like actual prisoners.
First, he locked the doors.
That’s where the term "conclave" really earned its keep. He literally barred the exits to the palace. But even then, the cardinals didn't budge. They continued to bicker.
So Gatti took it a step further. He ordered his men to remove the roof of the Great Hall of the Palazzo dei Papi.
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The idea was simple: let the rain and the cold in. If the cardinals couldn't find divine inspiration through prayer, maybe they’d find it through hypothermia. Some historical accounts, like those found in the Annales Piacentines, suggest the cardinals even had to pitch tents inside the roofless palace just to stay dry.
Still, they held out for weeks.
Then came the food restrictions. The townspeople started delivering only bread and water to the cardinals. It was a medieval version of "no dessert until you finish your homework," except the homework was picking the leader of the Western world and the dessert was actual survival.
The Final Resolution
Finally, on September 1, 1271, the exhaustion won. The cardinals did something they had never done before: they delegated the vote. They picked six of their own to form a committee. This "Compromise of Viterbo" gave those six men the power to choose for the whole group.
They picked Teobaldo Visconti.
The funny part? He wasn’t even a cardinal. He wasn't even a priest. He was an Archdeacon who, at that very moment, was in Acre (modern-day Israel) on a Crusade with Prince Edward of England. He had to travel all the way back from the Holy Land to Italy just to accept the job. He took the name Gregory X.
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The Lasting Impact of 1271
Gregory X was a smart man. He realized that the Viterbo disaster could never happen again. If the Church spent three years every time they needed a new Pope, the institution would collapse.
In 1274, during the Second Council of Lyon, he issued the Apostolic Constitution Ubi Periculum. This established the formal rules of the conclave that we still recognize today:
- Cardinals must be locked in a single room.
- They are not allowed to communicate with the outside world.
- The food is progressively reduced if they take too long.
- After three days, they only get one meal a day. After five more, they get bread and water.
While some of the harsher food rules have been relaxed over the centuries, the core concept of the "locked room" remains because of those three years in Viterbo.
Modern Conclaves vs. Viterbo
When we look at the 20th and 21st centuries, the speed is jarring. The 2013 conclave that elected Pope Francis took only two days. The election of Benedict XVI in 2005 took about the same. Even the longest conclave of the modern era—the 1830-1831 election of Gregory XVI—only lasted 54 days. That feels like an eternity to us, but compared to the 33 months of Viterbo, it’s a weekend getaway.
The shift happened because of communication and centralization. In the 1200s, it took weeks for news to travel. Today, the world is watching in real-time. The pressure to present a unified front to the global media acts as a much faster motivator than a missing roof ever could.
What You Should Know About Papal History
If you're digging into this because you're fascinated by the intersection of power and religion, keep a few things in mind. First, the Viterbo conclave wasn't just a "religious" event; it was the ultimate political deadlock. Second, the rules we have now were written in the "blood" (and rain) of that specific failure.
To understand the papacy today, you have to understand that it was built on avoiding another 1268.
Actionable Insights for History Buffs and Travelers
- Visit the Site: If you’re ever in Italy, skip the crowded Vatican for a day and go to Viterbo. The Palazzo dei Papi is still there. You can stand in the very hall where they ripped the roof off. It’s one of the best-preserved medieval palaces in Europe.
- Read the Primary Sources: Look up the Annales Piacentines or the works of historian Horace Mann (not the American educator, but the author of The Lives of the Popes in the Middle Ages). They give a gritty, non-sanitized version of the events.
- Contextualize the "White Smoke": Remember that the chimney and smoke system is a relatively modern invention (early 20th century). In 1271, "notification" was basically just opening the doors and shouting to a crowd that had been throwing rocks at the building for two years.
- Compare to Modern Deadlocks: Use the Viterbo example when looking at modern political stalemates. It’s a reminder that sometimes, the only way to get a decision is to change the environment of the decision-makers, not just the arguments they are using.