HISTORY OF THE CHRISTIAN CHURCH FROM THE APOSTOLIC AGE TO THE REFORMATION A.D. 64-1517 |
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BOOK IX.
CHAPTER I.
MARTIN V.
BOHEMIAN WAR.
A.D. 1418-1431.
The hopes with which those who
desired a reform in the church had looked to the council of Constance were to
be disappointed. The measures which the council took with a view to reform were
scanty, and were too likely to prove illusory in practice; nor, although it
professed to limit the power of the papacy, was there anything to prevent the popes,
if so disposed, from continuing to maintain their old assumptions, and to act
on their own authority, as if the decrees of the council had no existence.
Martin V, after his triumphant
departure from Constance, proceeded slowly towards the south, remaining for a
considerable time in some of the principal cities. At Milan he was received
with great magnificence by the duke, Philip Mary Visconti. Avoiding Bologna,
which, on the deposition of John XXIII, had declared itself independent, he
arrived on the 26th of February 1419 at Florence, where he was lodged in the
Dominican convent of Santa Maria Novella. The state of Rome was not yet such as
to invite the pope’s return. Braccio of Montone, a condottiere who had been in
the service of John XXIII, had made himself master of the city after John’s
deposition, professing an intention of holding it for the future pope. A
sickness which broke out among his troops, and the approach of a stronger
Neapolitan force, commanded by Sforza Attendolo, had soon afterwards compelled
him to withdraw; but he had made himself lord of his native city, Perugia, and
had extended his sway over a large portion of the papal states.
Through the intervention of the
Florentine magistrates Braccio was persuaded to meet the pope at Florence,
where he was received with extraordinary honours. He was reconciled to the
church, and undertook to reduce the turbulent Bolognese to obedience—a task
which, with the countenance of cardinal Condolmieri as legate, he was able to
accomplish. But at Florence the splendour and the profuse expenditure which
the condottiere displayed were unfavourably contrasted in the popular
estimation with the close economy and the ungenial manners of the pope; and the
boys of the streets sang under Martin’s own windows a jingle in which he was
said to be not worth a farthing.
By these indications of unpopularity
it would seem that the pope was determined to leave Florence, after having
taken leave of the magistrates in a complimentary speech, and having rewarded
the hospitality of the citizens by erecting the see into an archbishopric. He
arrived at Rome on the 28th of September 1420, and two days later went in
solemn procession from the Flaminian gate to the Vatican. Although an attempt
had been made to put on a festive appearance by means of hangings and other
decorations, the eye was everywhere met by evidences of the misery to which the
city had been reduced by the long absence of the popes at Avignon, and by the
calamities of later years—decaying houses, streets choked by rubbish and filth,
the monuments of antiquity barbarously mutilated, dismantled and desolate
churches; and beyond the Tiber, the ancient Burg of the English appeared in
ruins, having been laid waste by the artillery of the castle of St. Angelo.
Amongst the citizens themselves, the
unquiet years of the schism had greatly increased that rudeness of manners
which had been already remarkable when pope Gregory XI returned from Avignon.
It seemed, says Platina, as if all the citizens were either sojourners or the
confluence of the lowest dregs of mankind; and soon after the pope’s arrival,
the sufferings of the people were brought to a height by a violent flood, which
caused much damage and produced a scarcity of food. Beyond the walls of the
city, all way disorder throughout the papal territory. The Campagna was
distracted by the feuds of town against town, of one baron or family against
another. Robbers, assassins, and soldiers of predatory habits, committed
violence without any check, so that it was unsafe for pilgrims to approach the
capital of Christendom.
From this depth of anarchy and
wretchedness it was Martin’s work to deliver Rome. Churches were restored—and
in this the pope’s example was followed by the cardinals, who repaired the
churches of their respective titles. The erection of public and private
buildings marked the beginning of a new era in the varied and eventful history
of the city. The vigour and the justice of Martin’s administration restored
order and security, such as had been long unknown, in the surrounding
territory; and his subjects in general, feeling the benefits which they owed to
him, regarded him with reverence and affection, which expressed themselves in
styling him the third founder of the city—the “happiness of his times”. But his
cardinals, whom he reduced to a degree of subjection before unknown, were on
uneasy terms with him, and, while the old corruptions of the curia were
unabated, the pope himself was charged with excessive love of money, with a
sordid parsimony, and with an undue care for the interests of his relations,
whom he endowed with castles and lands at the expense of the church.
While Martin was labouring to
restore the material fabric of his city, two popular saints—one of either
sex—were zealously labouring there for religious and moral reformation.
1420-31. ST.
FRANCES OF ROME.
Frances of Rome, born in 1384,
showed in early years a wish to devote herself to virginity, but was
constrained to marry a noble Roman, Lorenzo de’ Ponziani, with whom she lived
more than twenty-eight years. But even while in the married state her life was
very strict, and she founded the order of “Oblates of the blessed Virgin”,
which had its headquarters in the Tor de’ Specchi at Rome. These oblates were
not bound by a vow of celibacy, but were at liberty to leave the order for
marriage; and they were under the superintendence of the monks of Mount Olivet,
whose order (as we have already seen) had been founded about a century earlier.
Frances, after her husband’s death, became the head of the oblate sisterhood,
and gave heself wholly up to mortification, devotion, and charity. The
biographies of this saint are full of miracles, prophecies, and visions. Among
other things we are told that an archangel was specially assigned to attend on
her in the form of a boy nine years old; that to this guardian another angel of
a lower order was afterwards added; and that she saw the Saviour place a crown
on the head of her archangel, as a reward for having well kept her soul.
The death of Frances took place in
1440; she was canonized by Paul V in 1608 and the church founded on the site of
the temple of Venus and Rome, which was formerly known as Santa Maria Nuova,
and in which she is buried, is now dedicated to her honour.
1420-40. ST.
Bernadine of Siena.
The other great saint of the time,
Bernardine of Siena, was born in 1380, and entered the Franciscan order.
Desiring a greater rigour than that which he found around him, he may have been
tempted to run, like many of his brotherhood, into the extravagances of the
fraticelli; but instead of this he undertook a reform which was styled “of the
strict observance,” and the number of convents founded by him in Italy is said
to have exceeded 500. As a preacher he attained great eminence, which is said to
have been foretold by the most famous preacher of the preceding generation, St.
Vincent Ferrer; and it is added that, from the time when he entered on his
work, he was freed from a hoarseness of voice with which he had been before
afflicted. His eloquence was effectually exerted against the prevailing evils—a
disregard of the outward duties of religion, a neglect of the holy communion, a
fondness for gaming and other idle amusements, a reliance on arts of divination
and magic. He reconciled enemies, composed the feuds by which the Italians had
been distracted for generations, and expressed his abhorrence of worldly
vanities in a way at once symbolical and practical, by committing to a great
bonfire on the Capitoline hill, pictures, instruments of music, the implements
of gaming, false hair, and the extravagances of female attire in general. Many
miracles are ascribed to Bernardine, and he refused several bishoprics. But his
career excited much envy, and he was assailed by charges of heresy and idolatry
on account of an ornament which he invented as a help to devotion. The question
was discussed before the pope, who, although in general he heartily supported
Bernardine, pronounced against the use of the symbol; and the saint dutifully
obeyed. His death took place at Aquila in 1444; and at the jubilee of 1450 he
received the honour of canonization, for which he had been especially
recommended to Nicolas V by the influence of Alfonso of Naples.
NAPLES
The state of the Neapolitan kingdom
contributed to the difficulties of Martin’s position. Joanna II, who succeeded
her brother Ladislaus in 1414, had been the wife of an Austrian prince, after
whose death she gave herself up to the unrestrained indulgence of her passions,
while the government was made over to the rivalries of courtiers and
favourites. From among the princes who sued for her hand, Joanna, who had
reached the age of forty-six, chose James, count of La Marche, a member of the
royal family of France, and after some delay she bestowed on him the title of
king. But the new husband, wishing to guard himself against a repetition of her
former irregularities, placed her in a state of seclusion, from which she was
delivered by a popular insurrection. The king was imprisoned in his turn; but
after a time he obtained his release, and withdrew from Naples to become a
Franciscan in his native country, while Joanna relapsed into her old course of
life. Having resolved to adopt an heir, she at first chose Lewis III of Anjou,
then discarded him in favour of Alfonso V of Aragon, and again set aside
Alfonso for Lewis, whose death soon after gave occasion for further
difficulties. Martin was suspected of an intention to set one of his own
nephews, whom he had created prince of Salerno, on the throne at the queen’s
death. Braccio of Montone had again broken with the pope, and had threatened to
reduce him to such straits that he would be glad to say masses at a halfpenny
each.
The south of Italy was continually
distracted by contests which arose out of these affairs, and was a
battle-ground for the mercenary forces of Braccio and Sforza Attendolo, until
in 1424 Sforza was drowned in the Pescara, and Braccio died of wounds received
in action. In consequence of the difficulties as to Naples, it seemed at one
time likely that the king of Aragon might return to the obedience of Benedict
XIII, who, although deserted by almost all his scanty college of cardinals,
continued to maintain his claims to the papacy on the rock of Peñiscola. But
Martin was able to avert this danger, and to draw off from Benedict Scotland
and such other powers as had hitherto adhered to him. On the death of Benedict,
in 1424, attempts were made to set up successors of his line; but by the aid of
Alfonso, with whom Martin was at length fully reconciled, these attempts were
easily frustrated, and the phantom antipopes were glad to secure the reality of
less exalted dignities which Martin bestowed on them. Two cardinals, who
obstinately held out, were seized and imprisoned by the count of Foix; and
their further history is unknown.
In his dealings with the kingdoms of
Latin Christendom, Martin was careful to maintain the highest views of the
papal prerogatives. The concordat of Constance was ill received in France,
where the parliament of Paris rejected it; and, although an attempt had been
made to conciliate the French by remitting half of the annates, in
consideration of the English war, a royal ordinance was issued in 1418, and
again in 1422, renewing the former prohibitions of sending money to the Roman
court. On the death of Charles VI, which took place in 1422, Martin attempted
to entice his young successor, Charles VII, into a surrender of the liberties
which had been asserted for the national church; it was said that the pastor’s
judgments must be reverenced, even although they may be unjust. Against this
Gerson wrote a treatise, in which, among other things, he referred to the oath
by which the French kings at their coronation bound themselves to defend the
liberties of the church. Martin, however, succeeded in gaining the king’s
mother and brother; and through their influence Charles was persuaded to order,
in 1425, that the papal authority should be obeyed as it had been in the times
of Clement VII and Benedict XIII, notwithstanding any ordinances of the crown,
decrees of the parliament, or other orders or usages to the contrary. And as
Charles himself, when dauphin, had sworn to observe the national laws, the pope
absolved him from his oath.
With regard to England, Martin
outdid his predecessors in maintaining the abuses of which the nation had long
and justly complained. He appointed bishops by provision, in contempt of the
electoral rights of chapters; and of this encroachment it is said that thirteen
instances occurred in the province of Canterbury within two years. He usurped
patronage, and abused it, as in the case of his nephew Prosper Colonna, whom he
made archdeacon of Canterbury at the age of fourteen; and in this and other
instances he continued to sanction the crying evil of non-residence. But these
practices were not always allowed to pass without resistance. Thus the church
of York refused to accept the nomination of Robert Fleming to the
archbishopric; and Fleming was glad to fall back on the see of Lincoln, which
he had previously held. When the English representatives at Constance found the
pope hesitating and unsatisfactory in his reply to their statement of
grievances which needed redress, they told him that their mission was merely a
matter of courtesy, and that the king would take the matter into his own hands,
according to his right.
The death of Henry V, whose strength
of character and warlike successes had made him formidable, the infancy of his
successor, and the discords between the young king’s ambitious kinsmen, Henry
Beaufort bishop of Winchester, and Humphrey duke of Gloucester, encouraged the
pope to aggression. He designed to supersede the ordinary jurisdiction of the
English metropolitans by establishing a resident legate a latere; and for this purpose the services which Beaufort had
rendered at the council of Constance were to be rewarded with the dignity of
cardinal, and with a legatine authority over England and Ireland. Against this
legation archbishop Chichele had protested in a letter to Henry V, on the
ground that no legate a latere had
ever been sent into England except on special business; that such legates had
not been admitted without the sovereign’s licence: and that their stay had been
only for a short time. In consequence of the primate’s letter, the king forbade
the bishop to accept the intended appointments.
In 1426 Beaufort was declared
cardinal of St. Eusebius; and in September 1428 he ventured to appear in
England as legate. But he was compelled to promise, before the king’s council,
that he would refrain from all acts which might be against the rights of the
crown or of the people. Attempts were made to deprive him of Winchester, on the
ground that it could not be held with his new dignity; and although, after a
struggle of four years, he was allowed to retain his see, and to resume his
place in the council, it was under conditions which restrained him from acting
as an instrument of the papacy in opposition to the national interests.
To such a pope as Martin the
statutes of provisors and praemunire were not likely to be acceptable. In 1426
he wrote to the king, to the parliament, and to the archbishops, urging a
repeal of these statutes, which he characterized as execrable, pernicious to
souls worse than the laws by opposing which St. Thomas Canterbury had become a
martyr and a saint; worse than y thing enacted against Jews or Saracens. He
speaks of the king of England as arrogating to himself the office of Christ’s
vicar. To Chichele (who had offended him by opposition to papal exemptions) he
writes with extraordinary violence; throwing out against him charges of
indifference to his pastoral duty, and of caring only for money; and urging him
to oppose the obnoxious laws in parliament, to threaten their supporters with
the censures of the church, and in the meantime to treat them as a nullity. He
even went so far as to suspend the archbishop, who replied by appealing to a
general council.
Yet his attempt failed of the
expected success. Chichele contented himself with recommending matter to the
serious consideration of parliament, and representing the dangers of the pope’s
anger and of the interdict which he was likely to issue; and the parliament did
nothing beyond petitioning the king that he would obtain; through his
ambassador a cessation of the proceedings against the primate, and his
restoration to the pope’s favour.
As the time which had been appointed
at Constance for the meeting of the next general council approached, the pope
was urged by the university of Paris and from other quarters to take the
necessary steps for assembling it; but although he affected, in his answer to
the Parisians, to clear himself from suspicions of wishing to elude the decree
of Constance, he showed no eagerness in the matter, and it became evident that,
instead of allowing the council liberty, he intended to keep the control of it
in his own hands. Only a few bishops and others had assembled at Pavia, the
appointed place, when, in consequence of a pestilence which was raging, the
pope transferred the sessions to Siena. On the 21st of July the council opened,
under the presidency of papal commissioners, with a sermon by Fleming, bishop
of Lincoln; but, although it continued until the spring of the following year,
hardly anything was done beyond renewing the condemnations of Wyclif, Hus, and
Peter de Luna, and granting an indulgence to those who should serve against the
heretics. Something was also said as to a reunion with the Greeks, with a view
to which communications had lately taken place; and some proposals for
ecclesiastical reform were made by the French. But it was evident that nothing
was to be expected from the assembly, which dwindled from its originally small
numbers, and was distracted by differences among its members. On the 8th of
March 1424 the council of Siena broke up, and the hopes of Christendom were
turned to the next general council, which was to meet at Basel seven years
later—an interval which the reforming party, on finding themselves disappointed
at Siena, had vainly attempted to shorten.
BOHEMIA
In the meantime Bohemia had been a
scene of frightful confusion. The tidings of Hus’s death were received there
with unbounded indignation. He and Jerome were celebrated as martyrs with a
yearly festival. Medals were struck in honour of Hus; his image or picture was
placed over the high altar in churches, and the zeal of some of his partisans
went so far as to declare that of all the martyrs no one had approached so near
to the Saviour’s example .
At the council of Constance (as we
have seen) some articles on the question of administering the Eucharist in one
or m two kinds were drawn up by a committee, who argued that, as the church had
without question changed the hour of celebration, so it had authority to
deviate from the original institution of the sacrament by witholding the cup
from the laity; and on this the council, June 15, about three weeks before
Hus’s death, passed a decree in condemnation of the opposite practiced. In
answer to the arguments and to the decree of Constance, Jacobellus of Misa, the
author of the movement for administration in both kinds, put forth a vehement
defence of his opinion; and to this, by desire of the council, replies were
written by Gerson and by Maurice, a doctor of Prague. King Wenceslaus and the
archbishop of Prague united in ordering that the administration in both kinds
should be relinquished; but throughout Bohemia and Moravia the order was
generally disregarded. There were daily and nightly conflicts between the
opposite parties in the Bohemian capital. There were continual disputations, in
which Hussite laymen of mean occupations—tanners, shoemakers, tailors, and the
like—were forward to engage against the clergy.
In September 1415, a letter, to
which four hundred and fifty-two nobles and knights of Bohemia and Moravia
attached their seals, was addressed to the council, protesting vehemently
against the iniquity of its proceedings against Hus, against its treatment of
Jerome (who was still in prison), and against the imputations which had been
cast on the orthodoxy of Bohemia. And three days later the Hussite leaders
bound themselves by an engagement for six years to maintain the doctrine which
they regarded as true and scriptural. Some churches had already been given up
for the administration of the Eucharist in both kinds; but Nicolas of
Hussinecz, the patron of Hus, appeared before the fortress of the Wissehrad,
close to Prague, at the head of an armed multitude, demanding of the king that
a greater number of churches should be made over to the party. The council,
which had already announced the punishment of Hus to the Bohemians, and had
sent the bishop of Leitomysl into Bohemia with a commission for the suppression
of heresy, replied severely to the Hussite manifesto; while Sigismund wrote
from Paris in a conciliatory tone, assuring the Bohemians that he had wished to
protect Hus, but had found it impossible, and earnestly exhorting them to avoid
the danger of a religious war.
In March 1417, the university of
Prague, of which Hus’s friend John Cardinal had been elected rector, published
a resolution in favour of administering the chalice to the laity; but the
council was still resolved to make no concession, and drew up twenty-four
articles with a view to the suppression of the Hussite doctrines. In accordance
with this course of policy, pope Martin, on the 22nd of February 1418, sent
forth a bull requiring all authorities, ecclesiastical and civil, to labour for
the suppression of the heresies of Wyclif, Hus, and Jerome.
Immediately after the end of the
council, cardinal John of Ragusa (formerly a partizan of Gregory XII) was sent
into Bohemia as legate. The choice was unfortunate. John had before talked of
reducing the country by fire and sword, and, in his character of legate, he
committed acts of great violence, such as the burning of a priest and a layman
who opposed him in one place. By such means the Bohemians were roused to fury,
and the cardinal, having utterly failed to accomplish the object of his
mission, withdrew into Hungary, to report his ill-success to Sigismund. His
death took place soon after his arrival in that country.
With Nicolas of Hussinecz, the
political chief of the Hussites, who is described as a man of deep counsel and
of somewhat unscrupulous policy, was associated a leader of a different
stamp—John of Trocznow, known by the name of Ziska. Ziska had in boyhood been a
page in the household of Wenceslaus, and had since distinguished himself in the
Polish wars, to which his loss of an eye has been commonly referred. He had
sworn to avenge the death of Hus, and it is said that he obtained a patent from
the king, under which he raised a number of soldiers. At the head of a powerful
force he moved about the country, everywhere enforcing the administration of
the sacrament in both kinds; and, in token of his devotion to the cause, he
displayed the eucharistic cup on his banners, and added the words “of the
chalice” to the signature of his name.
On St. Mary Magdalene’s day 1419, a
great meeting of Hussites was assembled on a hill near Aust, in the circle of
Bechin, where the holy communion was celebrated in the open air. There was no
previous confession; the clergy (among whom were John Cardinal and Jacobellus
of Misa) wore no distinctive vestures; the chalices were of wood, and the 300
altars were without any covering. Forty-two thousand persons —men, women, and
children—communicated; and the celebration was followed by a love-feast, at
which the rich shared with their poorer brethren; but no drinking or dancing,
no gaming or music, was allowed. The people encamped in tents, which, in the
Bohemian language, were called Tabor;
and out of this celebration grew a town which received that name, with
reference at once to the circumstances of the meeting, and to the mount of the
Saviour’s transfiguration.
From this great assembly Ziska and
his followers proceeded to Prague, where they arrived by night. On the
following day they attacked and plundered some convents. The magistrates of the
city, who had met in the town-hall, were butchered or driven to flight; some of
them were thrown from the windows, and were caught by the Hussites on pikes and
pitchforks. A fierce struggle took place between the insurgents and the people
of the Old Town, who were in favour of the church. Wenceslaus, whose deposition
had been threatened, was agitated by these scenes to such a degree that he was
seized with apoplexy, which, in a few days, put an end to his life. Such was
the fear of the popular excitement, that his body was hastily thrust into the
tomb, without the usual ceremonies of royal interment.
As the late king had left no
children, Bohemia fell by inheritance to his brother Sigismund; and this change
became the signal for increased exasperation on the part of the Hussites.
Wenceslaus, although personally vicious and despicable, had in some measure
directly favoured Hus and his followers, while they had benefited in a much
greater degree by his indolence and apathy; whereas Sigismund was execrated by
them, as the traitor by whose safe-conduct Hus had been lured to Constance, and
by whom he had there been abandoned to the enemies of the true faith. At once
the reformers broke out without restraint. On the very next day after the death
of Wenceslaus, some convents at Prague were attacked, and many of the monks
were slaughtered; and the movement soon spread to other places. Churches and
monasteries were plundered and reduced to ruin, images were mutilated and
broken to pieces, organs were demolished, pictures and other ornaments were
defaced and destroyed; and in these outrages the lust of spoil mingled with the
rage of religious fanaticism.
Sigismund, being fully occupied by
war with the Turks on the east of his dominions, was unable to take such
measures with regard to Bohemia as might have checked the reforming movement at
an early stage; and when at length he turned his especial attention to the
state of his newly-inherited kingdom, he found that the Hussites had developed
fresh extravagances of opinion, and that they were no longer to be appeased by
concessions which, at an earlier time, they would have gladly accepted.
The popular assemblies, of which the
example had been given on the hill of Tabor, became a part of the Hussite
system. Men, women, and children flocked to them by tens of thousands, in
defiance of the will of their landlords. The spirit of the party was
strengthened on such occasions by the joint reception of the Eucharist in both
kinds, and by exciting denunciations of the simony, the greed, the luxury, and
other vices, which were freely imputed to the clergy of the church; and at
every meeting of this kind the place and time of the next meeting were fixed.
The Bohemians were much divided
among themselves. A small proportion—more considerable among the nobles than in
any other class—adhered to the Roman church, as did also the German inhabitants
of the kingdom, with the exception of some in the capital. Among those who were
in favour of reformation, the name of Utraquists or Calixtines was given to the
more moderate section, who would have been content with the liberty of communicating
in both kinds, and other such concessions, and desired to remain, if possible,
in the unity of the Roman church. The utraquists were supported by the
authority of the university of Prague; and among them were included the people
of the capital in general, with the reforming nobles. The fiercer zealots, who
were known by the name of Taborites, professed to rest on Scripture only,
rejecting everything of a traditional kind, and many of the externals of
religion. They condemned all occupations for which no scriptural authority
could be shown; they denounced all worldly amusements, and even all human
learning. Their political opinions tended to republicanism, and, while they
were strong among the population of towns, and yet more among the peasantry, the
party had few adherents among the nobility. Its chiefs belonged to the class of
knights or gentry—such as the politician Nicolas of Hussinecz and the warrior
John Ziska, who, on the death of Nicolas, became the acknowledged head of the
Taborites.
Ziska fixed his head-quarters, and
established a government, at Tabor; and to him it is probably to be attributed
that Hussitism was able to surmount the dangers which threatened it at the
outset. His genius for war is described as marvellous. The tactics which he had
learned in the Polish campaigns were varied by his original invention, and
skilfully adapted to the special circumstances of his followers. The peasantry
whom he led had at first no other offensive weapons than clubs and flails; but
Ziska taught them to arm these with iron, and to make them instruments of
terrible power. He taught them to range their rough carts together in the
battlefield, and to connect them in such a manner as to present to the
assailants an impregnable fortress; and the novelty of these contrivances
increased the terror with which they were regarded by the enemy, who sometimes
fled in panic alarm at the very sight of the Hussites with their strange
equipments.
The eucharistic chalice was not only
represented on the banners of the party, but was carried by priests at the head
of their forces; and on reaching a town, the priests, in their ordinary dress,
worn and stained by travel, hurried to the altar of some church, said a short
form of consecration, and administered the sacrament in both kinds to all who
would receive it.
Fierce and pitiless, Ziska carried
fire and sword in all directions—massacring clergy and monks, burning and
demolishing churches and convents. However overmatched in numbers by his
enemies, and although obliged to form his armies out of unpromising materials,
he was never defeated in battle; and after he had been reduced to utter
blindness, in March 1421, he still continued to direct the operations of war
with the same skill and success as before. Yet, although Ziska was animated by
a fury which may remind us of the early warriors of Islam, and which might seem
possible only for the most exalted fanaticism, it is said that in opinions he
rather agreed with the Prague party than with the more extravagant sectaries;
that he may be regarded as faithfully representing the principles of Hus
himself, apart from the developments which these had undergone among the
martyr’s followers.
Among the more advanced Hussites,
apocalyptic ideas were zealously spread. It was said that the persecution of
the faithful showed the nearness of the second advent; that the ungodly were to
be consumed by the seven last plagues; that safety was to be attained only by
“fleeing to the mountains”; that with the exception of five towns, which were
pointed out as places of refuge, all cities— including Prague itself—were to be
destroyed, like Sodom and Gomorrah, by fire from heaven: and in consequence of
such teaching multitudes flocked from all parts of Bohemia and Moravia to the
cities of refuge, selling their all for such prices as could be got, and laying
the money at the feet of the clergy. A community of goods was established, and
it was taught that the Saviour would speedily come to set up his kingdom on
earth—a new state of paradise, in which his subjects would be free from pain
and from all bodily necessities, and would need no sacraments for their
sanctification.
The reforming movement of Bohemia
had drawn thither persons from other countries whose opinions were obnoxious to
the authorities of the church. Among these, the most remarkable were known by
the name of Picards,—apparently a form of the word beghards, which, as we have
seen, was then widely applied to sectaries. These Picards appear to have come
from the Low Countries, and to have been akin in opinions to the sect of the
“Free Spirit”. They declared the eucharistic elements to be mere bread and
wine, and on this account were expelled from the Bohemian capital. Some of
them, through fasting immoderately in the hope of seeing visions, went mad.
Those who carried their extravagances furthest were styled Adamites, from
maintaining that the use of clothes was a slavery. They are said to have
affirmed that everything is holy so long as it is held in common, and to have
extended this principle to women to have asserted the lawfulness of incest; to
have renounced all books and all law; and to have believed that the Spirit
within them would preserve them from dying. These fanatics got possession of an
island in a river, and spread terror far around by their ravages and bloodshed,
until Ziska attacked them, overcame them after a furious defence, and burnt all
whom he was able to seize, with the exception of one, who was reserved that he
might give information as to the sect.
Greatly as the Bohemians differed
among themselves, and bloodily as they carried out their quarrels, the various
sections were all united for common defence. In the same spirit which led them
to give to their parties the names of Taborites and Horebites, they spoke of
Bohemia as the promised land, of the Germans and other enemies as Philistines,
Moabites, Ammonites, and the like; and all rose together in resistance to those
who had included them all in the common reproach of heresy.
The university of Prague had been
consulted by Nicolas of Hussinecz as to the lawfulness of a resort to arms—not
from any scruples of his own, but for the satisfaction of his followers, who
professed a rigid adherence to Scripture; and the answer was, that, although it
would be wrong to enforce the truth by the sword, yet in case of extremity the
sword might lawfully be employed for the defence of the true religion.
The war of Bohemia was carried on
with an atrocity which has probably never been equalled. On the taking of a
town all the inhabitants were slain, with perhaps, the exception of a few women
and children. Churches, were burnt, with those who had taken refuge in them.
The churches and convents, which Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini describes as more
numerous, more magnificent, and more highly adorned than those of any other
European country, were demolished, so that, with the exception of the
incomplete cathedral in the Hradschin at Prague, no specimen of the ancient
splendour now remains. Ziska professed to destroy all churches which bore the names
of saints, on the ground that they ought to be dedicated to God alone. He is
said to have reduced to ruin more than 500 churches and monasteries and with
the buildings perished their precious ornaments, which were regarded as
instruments of idolatry. By these acts of fanatical barbarism the Taborites not
only vexed their enemies, but practically enforced their principle that for
true believers no material buildings for worship were necessary; that the use
of such buildings was superstitious, inasmuch as every believer ought to carry
God’s living law in his own breast. Nor was the destroying rage of the Hussites
confined to things which might be regarded as superstitious : thus, we are told
that, on the taking of Rabic by Ziska, treasures which had been placed there
with a view to safety were burnt, with the captive monks and clergy, while
nothing but arms, horses, and money was exempted from the flames. On both sides
excessive cruelty was displayed, not only towards prisoners taken in war, but
towards others. Ziska was in the habit of burning priests and monks in pitch,
and after his death this and other barbarities continued to be practised by his
partisans. Nor were the Catholics slow to emulate the ferocity of their
opponents; and to this they sometimes—on the principle that no faith was due to
heretics—added a treachery from which the Hussites were free. Thus, when some
Taborites surrendered at Chatebor, on the assurance that their lives should be
spared, the promise was shamelessly set aside. Sigismund caused a merchant of
Prague to be dragged at the heels of horses, and afterwards burnt, for speaking
disrespectfully of the council of Constance and maintaining the necessity of
communion in both kinds; and many other cruelties are recorded against him. The
men of Kuttenberg, then the second city of the kingdom, who were mostly
Germans, employed in mining, and violent in their zeal for the church, offered
a reward for all Hussites who should be put into their hands—one florin for a
layman and five for a priest. In consequence of this, the Hussites were hunted
and entrapped like beasts; and it is said that 1600 of them were put to death
at Kuttenberg, either by burning, beheading, or being cast into the depths of
mines.
In addition to the ecclesiastical
buildings, castles, palaces, even whole towns, were destroyed. By the ravages
of contending hosts, and by the neglect of tillage, the country was reduced to
a desert. Manufactures and foreign commerce were annihilated. The manners and
habits of the people became ruder and less civilized than before. On both sides
the lust of spoil gradually mixed with the religious purposes with which the
war had been undertaken; and by the enlistment of foreigners—Poles, Prussians,
and others, including even Germans—in the Taborite forces, the character of
“God’s warriors”, on which Ziska had insisted, became lost.
On the 1st of March 1420, pope
Martin, at the emperor’s request, issued a bull, Omnium plasmatoris Domini, summoning the faithful to rise for the
extirpation of Wyclifism, Hussitism, and other heresies, and promising full
indulgences to those who should take part in the enterprise either personally
or by substitute. Sigismund, after a great diet at Breslau, collected an army,
which is estimated at from 100,000 to 150,000 men, not only from every part of
Germany, but from all other European countries except Italy and Scandinavia.
The Bohemians flew together for mutual defence; oaths were taken that they
would spend their property and their blood to the utmost for the principle of
utraquism, and fierce language was uttered against the Roman church. At
midsummer, the crusading host invaded the land, but proved unequal to cope with
the exasperated zeal of the people in behalf of their country and their
religion, and with the genius of Ziska, who on the 14th of July defeated the
invaders with great slaughter on a hill near Prague, which still bears his
name. Sigismund, although he was crowned as king of Bohemia by archbishop
Conrad in the Hradschin, found himself unable to gain possession of that part
of his capital which lies on the other side of the Moldau, and withdrew from
the country, leaving behind him a strong feeling of hatred in the hearts of the
Bohemians, while his German allies regarded him as a favourer of heresy for
having entered into negotiations with the Bohemian nobles. On the 31st of
October, the great fortress of the Wissehrad, which included within its walls a
palace and a monastery, was surrendered to the Hussites; and its splendid
buildings, with the precious contents, accumulated during several centuries,
were ruthlessly destroyed.
1420. FOUR
ARTICLES OF PRAGUE.
The moderate party among the
Hussites, which was represented by the magistrates and the great mass of the
citizens of the capital, drew up in July 1420 a document, which was the result
of many conferences, and is known as the Four Articles of Prague. The substance
of these articles was: (1) that the word of God should be freely preached; (2)
that the holy Eucharist should be administered in both kinds to all faithful
Christians; (3) that the clergy should be deprived of their secular lordship
and temporalities, as being contrary to Christ’s law, hurtful to them in their
duty, and detrimental to the secular power; (4) that all deadly sins, especially
those of a public kind, and other disorders—including not only the recognised
breaches of morality, but the exaction of fees by the clergy—should be
forbidden and extirpated by those to whom it belongs.
But, wide as was the difference
between these articles and the system of the Roman church, they were far from
satisfying the Taborites, who proposed twelve additional articles as terms of
union, requiring among other things a more rigorous moral discipline, the
confiscation of church-property for the common benefit, the establishment of
the divine law as the only rule of government and justice, the destruction of
“heretical” monasteries and superfluous churches, with altars, images, rich
vestments, church plate, “and the whole idolatrous plantation of Antichrist”.
After a time, a compromise between
the parties was effected by the English preacher Peter Payne, who had been
received among the masters of the university, and had acquired much influence
in Bohemia. Sigismund was brought to tolerate the articles of Prague until the
matter should be more formally determined. Conrad, archbishop of Prague,
accepted the articles, and while for this he was anathematized by the pope, and
the canons of his cathedral renounced obedience to him, on the other hand the
revenues of the see were secularized, agreeably to the third article, and
utraquists were put into all ecclesiastical dignities.
For a time Prague was under a
theocratic republican government, in which the greatest authority was wielded
by a priest named John of Selau, who had formerly been a Premonstratensian
monk. This John, in sermons which were eagerly heard by excited multitudes,
declared Sigismund to be the great red dragon of the Apocalypse; and all the
emperor’s attempts to conciliate his Bohemian subjects—his apologies and
explanations as to the past, his offers of concession—were received with scorn
and derision. A second and a third time Sigismund invaded the country at the
head of vast forces—in one case, it is said, of as many as 200,000 men; but each
time the invaders recoiled in confusion and disgrace before the invincible
Ziska.
In the meantime many of the nobles,
disgusted by the democratic and fanatical excesses of the Hussite parties,
returned to the obedience of the emperor and of the pope, and there were
negotiations with Poland and with Lithuania, which led to an attempt by a
Lithuanian prince, Sigismund Corybut, to establish himself as king of Bohemia.
In consequence of a change of the popular feeling, John of Selau was beheaded
in March 1422, and on this removal of the link by which the party of Prague had
been connected with the Taborites, the old hostilities of these parties broke
out with a violence which was the greater because for the time no foreign enemy
was to be feared. The quarrel of aristocracy and democracy was now mixed up
with their religious enmities. On the 8th of August 1423, Ziska inflicted a
crushing defeat on the men of Prague; and he would probably have punished their
opposition by the destruction of their city, but for the remonstrances of some
of his chief associates, and the entreaties of a deputation headed by John
Rokyczana, an ecclesiastic of great eloquence and ability, who played an
important part in the later history. Within a month after this, on the 11th of
October 1424, Ziska died of a pestilence which was raging in Bohemia. The last
year of his life had also been the fullest of violence and bloodshed; but immediately
before his death he had been engaged in negotiations with the emperor.
The loss of the great commander who
had taught his countrymen the art of war, and had always led them to victory,
was deeply felt. A large portion of his followers (towards whom his behaviour
had commonly been marked by a kindly familiarity, which strongly contrasted
with his ruthless ferocity to his enemies) took the name of Orphans, as if in
Ziska they had lost a father who could never be replaced. As to principles,
this section took up a middle position between the extreme parties, adhering to
the doctrine of transubstantiation and the use of vestments and ceremonies,
while they rejected the Roman church and hierarchy.
1424-6. THE PROCOPII.
But within no long time two other
leaders became conspicuous among the Hussites—the great and the little
Procopius. It is said that the former of these had been recommended by Ziska as
his successor; and he was accepted by the Taborites, while the lesser Procopius
was at the head of the orphans. The great Procopius was also designated as the
Shaven, from the circumstance that he had unwillingly entered the priesthood at
the instance of an uncle, to whom he had been indebted for education and for
the means of travelling widely. Although he had married, he still continued to
perform priestly ministrations; and, while zealously discharging the functions
of a general, he did not himself engage in fight, or carry offensive weapons.
Procopius was distinguished from the other Taborite leaders by mental culture
and a love of learning. He had at one time been suspected of an inclination to
the extravagances of the Picards; and, although his opinions had more lately
been in some degree mitigated, they were even now more remote from the Roman
system than those of Ziska, while Procopius was less fanatical and intolerant,
and was guided in a greater degree by political prudence, than the earlier
leader.
By the death of Ziska, the Prague
party gained strength. Some of the older excesses, such as the destruction of
churches, were blamed; the more extravagant opinions were discountenanced; and
it even seemed as if a reconciliation with the Roman church might be effected.
But the more advanced Hussites refused to consent to articles which favoured
transubstantiation, prayers for the dead, purgatory, and the ecclesiastical
ceremonies, with other such points of doctrine and practice; and the
conferences which had been opened with a view to union ended in divisions wider
than before. On this occasion Peter Payne, taking offence at some calixtine
articles which asserted the presence of the Lord’s body in the Eucharist,
joined the Orphans, from whom he afterwards passed to the Taborites.
Notwithstanding their violent
differences among themselves, the Bohemians continued to be successful against
external enemies. After having defeated a German force at Aussig in 1426, with
a slaughter which is estimated at from 9,000 to 15,000 men, while the Bohemians
lost only fifty, they advanced as far as Magdeburg, and, following the example
which had been given by Ziska, they often invaded the neighbouring countries on
all sides. In these outbreaks, to which they were partly urged by the
necessities which arose out of the desolation of their own land, they
everywhere committed extraordinary acts of cruelty and wanton devastations.
In February 1427, Martin gave the
commission of legate for Bohemia, Germany, and Hungary, to cardinal Beaufort,
who at that time was not unwilling to withdraw for a season from the political
contests of England. Preparations were made for a crusade on a very great
scale. Throughout the empire a tax was raised for the suppression of Hussitism.
Four large armies, amounting (it is said) to 200,000 in all, were to enter
Bohemia from different quarters at midsummer. Strict rules of discipline,
befitting the religious nature of the enterprise, were laid down; all gaming
and other such irregularities were forbidden; every soldier was bound to
frequent confession and communion; and in their manner of warfare the crusaders
were to adopt something of the system which the genius of Ziska had taught his
countrymen. Although the various parties of Bohemians united for the common
cause, it is said that the force which they were able to oppose to this vast
host amounted only to 15,000 horse and 16,000 foot; but the great enterprise
speedily ended in disgraceful failure. At Mies, the Germans, on coming in sight
of the enemy, were seized with a panic; and the cardinal, as he was advancing,
met his troops fleeing in abject terror. It was in vain that, with the crucifix
in his hand, he entreated them, by the most solemn considerations of religion,
to rally. He himself was reluctantly carried away with the multitude, and in
this scandalous flight the Germans lost 10,000 men, besides the loss of many
more, who, in their retreat, were pursued and slain by the peasantry.
In 1428 and the following year,
fresh expeditions were projected and heavy taxation was imposed, which, in some
parts of Germany, excited discontent and open resistance. Attempts were also
made to come to an agreement by means of conferences; but, although Sigismund professed
to be tired of the weight of empire, and willing to content himself with his
original kingdom of Hungary, the Bohemians had acquired such confidence from
their successes, that they insisted on terms which he was unable to yield. And
the internal divisions of the Hussites continued. A divine named John of
Przibram violently assailed the doctrines of Wyclif, and did not spare even
Hus; while Payne strongly opposed him, and Rokyczana took a middle part,
adhering to the doctrine of transubstantiation, but in other things generally
agreeing with Payne.
The cardinal of Winchester was
withdrawn from Bohemian affairs in consequence of the change produced in the
relations of France and England by the appearance of the Maid of Orleans; and
the force which he had raised for the Hussite war was employed against the
French. But the pope was still bent on the suppression of Hussitism, and in
January 1431 despatched as his legate Julian Cesarini, who had lately been
created cardinal of St. Angelo. Julian was a Roman, of a family whose poverty
is more certain than its nobility. He had risen to eminence by his merits, was
esteemed for ability, morals, and learning, and, from having been in Bohemia,
in attendance on a former legate, Branda of Castiglione, was supposed to have
special qualifications. for the office. A bull was drawn up, authorizing a new
crusade, and bestowing extraordinary powers on him; but before the bearer,
cardinal John of Olmütz (formerly bishop of Leitomysl) arrived at Nuremberg,
tidings were received there that Martin had died on the 20th of February.
CHAPTER II.
EUGENIUS
IV.—THE COUNCILS OF BASEL AND FLORENCE.
A.D. 1431-1447.
Immediately after the death of Martin, the
feeling of the cardinals towards him, which had been suppressed during his
lifetime, began to show itself in a significant form. The first day of the
conclave, which met in the church of St. Mary sopra Minerva, was spent in drawing up certain terms to which the
future pope was to bind himself by oath, and which he was to confirm by a
special bull after his election. By this compact every cardinal promised, in
case of his being chosen pope, to reform the court in head and members, and to
undertake such reformation whenever he should be required by the cardinals; not
to remove the seat of the papacy from Rome, except with the consent of the
cardinals; to celebrate a general council at the place and time which the
cardinals should recommend, and in it to reform the whole church, including the
monastic and military orders, in faith, life, and morals; to make no cardinals
except according to the rules of the council of Constance, unless a majority of
the college should judge otherwise; to admit freely the advice of the
cardinals, to respect their privileges, to preserve the rights of the Roman
church, and in his letters to name those cardinals who had counseled him, as
had been the practice until the time of Boniface VIII.
Although under the late pope the
Italians had regained their old predominance in the college—which now, in
defiance of the reforms of Constance, consisted of eleven or twelve Italian
cardinals, and only eight of all other nations—a French and a Spanish bishop
were put forward as the most likely to be chosen; but, by one of those
unexpected turns which have often decided the result of elections to the
papacy, the choice fell on Gabriel Condolmieri, cardinal of St. Clement, who
took the name of Eugenius IV. The new pope was a Venetian, a nephew of Gregory
XII, and had attained the age of forty-eight. He had distinguished himself in
early life by giving at once twenty thousand ducats to the poor, and by
entering, with his cousin Antony Corario, a society of canons which they
founded under the title of St. George in
alga, on one of the islands of Venice. He had been advanced to the dignity
of cardinal by his uncle, and under the late pope had been employed as legate
for the reduction of Bologna. Both his virtues and his faults were chiefly
those of a monk. In his own person he was abstinent and severe, although his
household expenses were equal to the dignity of his station; he loved and
encouraged men of letters, although his own learning was but moderate; he was
obstinate, narrow-minded, possessed by an ambition which refused to consider
the limits of his power, little scrupulous in the pursuit of his objects, open
to flattery, filled with a high idea of the papal greatness, and implacably
hostile to all deviation from the established doctrines of the church. Under
him the Romans found reason to look back with regret on the prosperous
government of Martin; and to his mistaken policy are chiefly to be ascribed the
troubles by which the church was agitated throughout his pontificate.
Eugenius had been assisted by the
influence of the Orsini, and showed himself hostile to the great rival family
of which his predecessor had been a member. He demanded from Martin’s nephews,
cardinal Prosper Colonna, the prince of Salerno, and the count of Celano, the
treasures which the pope had collected for a religious war against the Turks,
and he refused to be content when they gave up a part as if it had been the
whole. The prince of Salerno surrendered the castle of St. Angelo; but Eugenius
was still unsatisfied, and demanded the restoration of other places which
Martin had put into the hands of his kindred. The Colonnas, with their allies,
gathered a force in the Campagna, assaulted Rome, and penetrated into the heart
of the city, where Stephen Colonna fortified himself in his palace. But they
did not find the expected support among the people. Although for more than a
month the prince of Salerno held possession of the Appian gate, they were
compelled to retire, and the pope, in alliance with the Orsini, took from them
all the strong places which they held in Umbria and the ecclesiastical states.
Martin’s treasurer was tortured, in the hope of drawing from him information as
to concealed wealth. A bull was issued, setting forth the offences of the
Colonnas, and ordering that all their possessions should be confiscated; that
their houses should be pulled down, and should never be rebuilt; that their
arms should be erased from buildings, and that they should for ever be
incapable of ecclesiastical or secular office : and this was carried into
effect by the destruction of the late pope’s palace, and of all monuments of
his pontificate. Two hundred Romans of the Colonna party, who had been employed
in office under Martin, were put to death on various charges. Joanna of Naples
deprived the prince of Salerno of his principality, which was held under the Neapolitan
crown; and at length, with aid from Naples, Florence, and Venice, Eugenius
reduced the Colonnas to an unreserved submission, and to a surrender of all
their fortresses, with so much of pope Martin’s wealth as they had until then
retained.
The time had now arrived for the
meeting of the general council at Basel; but, although men looked anxiously to
an assembly which was expected to determine whether the papal authority should
continue in the fullness which it had attained, or should be reduced within
more reasonable bounds, the gathering of the members was slow and gradual. The
opening had been announced for the month of March, but the abbot of Vezelay was
the only one who had then appeared, and two months later he had been joined by
hardly any others, except some representatives of the university of Paris. It
seemed as if the council of Basel might have no greater result than that of
Siena. The late pope, who disliked and dreaded such meetings, had shown no
alacrity to forward it; but he had authorized cardinal Julian Cesarini to
preside, and the commission was renewed by Eugenius, who at the same time
charged the cardinal to attend to the affairs of Bohemia if he did not find the
fathers assembled at Basel. But Julian was more deeply interested in Bohemia
than in the council. He begged that he might be excused from presiding at
Basel; he wrote to stir up princes, prelates, and others to the holy war; and,
while the members of the council were slowly arriving, he zealously preached
the Bohemian crusade along the course of the Rhine, and even as far as Liege
and Flanders. In the meanwhile he sent two Dominicans—John of Palomar, auditor
of the sacred palace, and John of Ragusa, procurator-general of the order, to
act as his deputies at Basel, and to entreat that the assembled fathers would
await the issue of affairs in Bohemia; and by these commissioners the council
was opened on the 23rd of July. At the same time Julian and others were active
in endeavouring by urgent letters to procure a fuller attendance at Basel.
The danger with which the Bohemians
were again threatened became, as in former instances, the means of uniting
their factions. All were animated by a common zeal to withstand the invaders of
their native land. Those who were engaged in expeditions into the neighbouring
countries were recalled, and Procopius the Great was for a time invested with
an almost absolute authority.
A diet was held at Eger in May,
under the presidency of Sigismund. Some representatives of the Bohemians
appeared, and endeavoured by negotiation to avert the threatened crusade; but
the emperor was persuaded by John of Ragusa and others, who had been sent to
him by cardinal Julian, to refuse all further treaty with them, unless on
condition that they should submit in all their opinions to the determination of
the church and the general council. To their request that they might be heard
at Basel, Sigismund replied that this would interfere with the council’s
freedom; whereupon the Bohemians put forth an indignant letter, addressed to
kings, princes, and Christians of all classes, stating the four articles of
Prague as the points on which they insisted, protesting against the emperor’s
behaviour to them, denouncing the clergy severely, and declaring themselves
determined, with the help of the Lord of hosts, to repel any invasion of their
country.
Before resorting to arms cardinal
Julian addressed to the Bohemians a letter, in which he declared himself
earnestly desirous of their good, and even ready to give his life for them. He
denies that the crusading force is intended for the destruction of their
country; he sets forth the outrages and excesses which the Bohemians had
committed in their own land and in those around it, and tells them that the
crusaders are not to be regarded as aggressors, but as having taken arms for
the deliverance of the pious, for their defence against the lovers of confusion
and anarchy. They offer peace, and if war should follow, the guilt of it will
lie on the other party. As to the great mass of the Bohemians, he expresses
confidence that they are not in favour of disorder. He ridicules the notion
that a few uneducated men—soldiers, artisans, peasants, and the like—could be
wiser than the church, or than her multitude of trained preachers, both in past
generations and now. The church has received from Christ the promise of the
Holy Spirit to lead her into all truth, to protect her and to abide with her
for ever; she is ready to receive the Bohemians, like the repentant prodigal;
to bring forth the new robe, to kill the fatted calf, to call together the
friends and neighbours that they may rejoice over the recovery of the lost.
The Bohemians rejoined in a letter
which was mostly, if not wholly, the work of the “great” Procopius. In this
letter the articles of Prague are set forth as principles founded on Scripture
and held by the ancient church. To the restoration of these, which had in later
ages been suppressed by a corrupt clergy, the Bohemians had devoted themselves
for years, and for this cause they had borne labours, insults, expenses, and
even the danger of their lives. They profess to refer all questions to
Scripture, and to the ancient doctors who are agreeable to Scripture; they
protest against force as a means of conversion, and tell the cardinal that St.
Peter’s manner of visiting Cornelius might have supplied him with an example of
a better method.
The crusading army, which ought to
have been ready at midsummer, was, as in former expeditions, behind its time.
The enterprise was inaugurated with great solemnity in the church of St.
Sebald, at Nuremberg; where the emperor, kneeling before the altar, presented
his sword to the legate, by whom it was delivered, together with the
consecrated banner of the empire, to Frederick, elector of Brandenburg, who had
been appointed to the chief command. The whole force is estimated at from
90,000 to 130,000 men, and on the 1st of August it entered Bohemia. But the
same ignominious fate which had attended the earlier armaments of the same kind
was now more signally repeated. Many of the invaders, scared by the mere sight
of the Hussite manner of fighting, were seized with panic and fled at the
approach of the Bohemians; and in an engagement near Tauss, the legate, who had
ascended a hill in order to see the combat, was compelled to witness the utter
rout of his army. By extraordinary efforts he succeeded in rallying a few of
them as they were about to plunge into a forest; but it was only that they
might be cut to pieces or driven back by the advancing enemy. The troops fled
in utter confusion, hurrying the cardinal along with them; while the Hussites
pressed on them, and slew great numbers without resistance. The spoil taken was
very great; and the Hussites were especially elated by the capture of the
legate’s silver crucifix, of his bell, the ensigns of his dignity as cardinal,
and the papal bull which had given authority for the crusade. Julian himself
was in danger from the fury of some of the crusaders, who threw on him the
blame of the disaster; and he was obliged for safety to disguise himself as a
common soldier in the train of the bishop of Wurzburg. The other divisions of
the great crusading host fell utterly to pieces.
The Hussites had now attained their
greatest height of success and reputation. For twelve years they had not only
held their ground against the united efforts of Latin Christendom, but had
carried the terror of their arms far into the countries which bordered on
Bohemia. Their enthusiastic courage, directed by the genius of Ziska and Procopius,
had defeated the most famous generals of the age; and vast armies, collected
under the highest religious sanction from almost every nation which
acknowledged the spiritual authority of Rome, had fled before them without
awaiting their onset. And among the multitudes who openly or secretly rejected
that authority, sympathy was widely felt with them. Thus we meet with casual
mention of a community (probably Waldensian) among the mountains of Dauphiny
which is said to have shared their opinions, and to have raised a tribute for
their aid. But from the time of their greatest triumph disunion began to work
its mischiefs. The several parties, being no longer banded together against a
common enemy, fell asunder, and sought for foreign alliances in order to subdue
each other. And this was the effect rather of political than of religious
differences. The democratic spirit, which had been strongly developed in
connexion with the reforming doctrines—a spirit which had been fostered by John
of Selau and by Ziska, and had displayed itself in the disregard of family
influence, and of everything but personal merit, in the choice of generals and
officers—alienated the higher nobility, and tended to throw them back into the
arms of the Roman church.
Cardinal Cesarini, on making his
escape from the country which he had so confidently entered, repaired to the
emperor at Nuremberg, and complained to him loudly of the German princes as
wanting in spirit and enterprise. The legate had now been convinced by
experience that negotiation was more hopeful than force as a means of reducing
the Hussites; and his observations in Germany had taught him that the cause of
the church was lost in that country unless a reform were carried out. He looked
to the general council as the instrument of such a reform, and as the best
remaining hope of a solution of the Bohemian difficulties; and to it he
referred the emperor and the German nobles, who, in indignation at the late
behaviour of their princes, urged the undertaking of a new crusade, in which
the princes should not be admitted to share, and the leader should be one
chosen by themselves for his capacity and experience.
On the ninth of September the legate
arrived at Basel, where he was received with great solemnity, but found that
only three bishops and seven abbots were as yet assembled. In order that the
council might become, more worthy of its pretensions, he addressed many letters
to princes, bishops, and others, urging them to send representatives. And
agreeably to the resolution of a congregation of the council, he wrote in its
name to the Bohemians, professing great affection for them, exhorting them to
peace and unity, and inviting them, with a view to these objects, to appear at
Basel, with an assurance that they should have unrestrained liberty of speech,
and a full safe-conduct for their stay as well as for their journeys. This
letter was sent by the council to the emperor, and by him was forwarded to
Bohemia.
To Eugenius the idea of inviting to
a free conference those who had been condemned as heretics at the councils of
Constance and Siena, and who had since appeared in arms against the church, was
altogether intolerable; and on the 12th of November he wrote to the legate,
desiring him to break up the council of Basel, and to announce another general
council, which was to meet at Bologna after an interval of a year and a half.
But Cesarini, unwilling that the schemes on which he had set his heart should
be ruined through the pope’s mistaken action, ventured, instead of obeying, to
send a canon of Besançon to report the state of affairs to Eugenius, and
addressed to him a long and forcible letter of remonstrance.
After having entreated that the
critical position of affairs may excuse his freedom, the legate relates the
recent events in Bohemia, so far as he had been concerned in them. He expresses
his belief that a conference between the council and some representatives of
the Bohemians would be the most hopeful expedient for the pacification of
Bohemia; and that such a council is urgently needed as a means of reformation.
He speaks of his late experience as having shown him the deep disgust which had
been produced in the minds of the German laity by the dissoluteness and
disorders of the clergy; so that, unless these would reform themselves, it
seemed likely that the laity would attack them in the manner of the Hussites;
nay, unless these evils were remedied, the extinction of the Hussite heresy
would probably be followed by the rise of some other. If the council should be
dissolved, it would appear as if the church were afraid to meet the Hussites,
who had been invited to it—as if the clergy were incorrigible, and were mocking
God and man; the pope will risk the discredit of his name and incur dangers to
his soul. A dissolution would involve political difficulties, which would
surely redound to the disadvantage of the clergy. For himself, the legate is
resolved to vindicate his honour by placing himself in the hands of the secular
nobles. The apprehensions of danger to the pope’s power, whether spiritual or
temporal, are chimerical; nor is any danger to his temporal power to be put in
comparison with the peril to souls. The temper of the assembled fathers is
alarming, and suggests the likelihood of a schism if the dissolution be carried
through. The pretence of difficulty of access to Basel on account of a war
between the dukes of Burgundy and Austria is vain; inasmuch as a truce has been
concluded between these princes. The hope of gaining the Greeks (on which the
pope had insisted) is no sufficient reason for risking the loss of Germany. The
legate expresses his willingness to be superseded in his office, but earnestly
begs that his engagements may be kept, and that the council may be
continued—that the pope, as he had acted on insufficient knowledge, would now,
after fuller information, revert to the original design.
Without waiting for the papal
sanction, the council held its first session on the 14th of December, when mass
was said by Philibert, bishop of Coutances. The subjects for discussion were
defined as being three—the extinction of heresy; the restoration of peace and
unity among Christians; and the reformation of the church. The system of voting
by nations, which had been established at Constance, was now set aside,—partly,
it would seem, on account of the jealousies which had there arisen between the
Spaniards and the English, and partly because the separation of the cardinals,
as a body distinct from the nations, had rendered them eager for the pope’s
authority rather than for the general good of the church. Instead of this
arrangement, the council was divided into four “deputations,” each composed of
members belonging to all degrees of the hierarchy, from patriarchs and
cardinals down to monks and secular clergy. These deputations were severally
charged with the consideration of— (1) General business; (2) Reformation; (3)
The Faith; and (4) Peace. They met thrice a-week, and no subject could be
proposed in a general congregation until after it had been discussed in the
deputations.
The council was increased
considerably in numbers; but of prelates there were comparatively few, nor did
the representatives of universities form so important an element as at
Constance. Italy had sent but a small number of members; England had as yet sent
none. The mass of the council was drawn from the two nations which were nearest
to Basel: the French and the Germans.
Eugenius, alarmed by the opening of
communications with the Bohemians, issued, on the 18th of December, and on the
12th of February in the following year, fresh documents for the dissolution of
the council, alleging, as before, the difficulties of access to Basel on
account of the war between Austria and Burgundy, the state of his own health,
which must prevent his attendance, the smallness of the numbers assembled, and
the expiration of the seven years which had been fixed as a term at the council
of Siena; and again he announced another council, to be held at Bologna. But
the council, remembering that the meeting at Siena had been rendered
ineffectual through the late pope’s contrivances, and inferring from the
proceedings of Martin and of Eugenius that the papacy was hostile to such
assemblies, resolved to continue its sessions. On the 5th of June, Cesarini
addressed a second letter of remonstrance to the pope. He reports the hopeful
state of his negotiations with the Bohemians, who had agreed to send deputies
to Basel. He dwells on the immeasurable superiority of spiritual over temporal
interests. He speaks of the growing numbers and influence of the council. He
rests its legitimacy on the same foundation with the papacies of Martin and
Eugenius—the general council of Constance. He exposes the futility of the
pretence as to the expiration of the appointed seven years from the time of the
last council. He represents the views of persons who deny that the pope had
power to dissolve a council, in contradiction to the decree of Constance, and
he intimates that he himself agrees in that opinion.
But although the legate expressed
himself thus plainly, he thought it well, out of regard for the papal
authority, to resign the presidency of the council, to which Philibert, bishop
of Coutances, was elected in his room and in a synodal letter, addressed to all
faithful Christians, the assembled fathers declared their resolution to remain
at Basel until the purposes of their meeting should be accomplished.
About this time Sigismund suddenly
announced an intention of going to Rome for the purpose of receiving the
imperial crown. It would seem that the difficulties, disappointments, and
reverses which he had experienced, both in his secular and in his
ecclesiastical policy, had suggested the idea of endeavouring by this means to
render his authority more venerable in the eyes of men; and perhaps he may have
thought more especially that in the general council a crowned emperor would
have greater influence than a king of the Romans. But circumstances were
greatly changed from the times when earlier emperors had repaired to Rome for
coronation. Italy, which had formerly been regarded by the imperialist lawyers
as the special domain of the crown, was no longer subject to it except in name;
and the necessities by which Sigismund had been cramped throughout his
life—necessities chiefly caused by the alienations and other improvident
expenses of his predecessors—prevented his appearing with such a force as might
have overawed the princes and the republics of Italy. At Milan, where he had
been led to expect from the duke, Philip Mary Visconti, not only a welcome, but
supplies of money and a force sufficient to make his authority respected by the
Italians, he found himself treated with outward ceremony indeed, but with
mortifying coolness and distrust. The duke absented himself from the solemnity
of his receiving the iron crown, and altogether avoided a meeting with him.
Eugenius, fearing that the title of emperor would render Sigismund more
powerful as against the papacy, deferred July the Roman coronation under one
pretext after another, and for ten months Sigismund fretted in impotent
expectation at Siena, where the cost of his maintenance pressed heavily on the
citizens. At length he was allowed to go on to Rome, after having sworn by his
ambassadors that he would never forsake the interest of Eugenius; and on Whitsunday,
1433, he received the imperial crown in St. Peter’s from the hands of the pope.
But there was little of splendour in the ceremony, and, as Sigismund was
suffering from gout, the pope was obliged to consent that his mule should be
led only three steps by the emperor—a symbol rather than a performance of the
traditional homage of Constantine.
After a short stay at Rome,
Sigismund set off for his northern dominions, where, in the meanwhile, his
subjects had been tending to a state of anarchy. On the 11th of October he
reached Basel. He had throughout been earnest for the council, which, after the
failure of the crusade, he had regarded as the only means of pacifying Bohemia;
he had written to assure it of his support; he had urged on the pope, both by letters
and by ambassadors, the expediency of allowing it to continue; and he had
requested all Christian princes to aid it by their influence. An assembly of
the French clergy at Bourges, under Charles VII, had also taken up the cause of
the council, and had petitioned the king to send an embassy to the pope, in
order to procure his consent to its continuance. Sigismund, as we have seen,
had forwarded the invitation of the council to the Bohemians in October 143i,
and he had exerted himself to procure their appearance by deputies at Basel.
But much of the distrust caused by the fate of Hus still remained; and, while
the Calixtines and even the Orphans were willing to negotiate, the Taborites
declared that it would be a folly to submit to their enemies as judges. The
opinions of this party were set forth in a letter addressed to the council at
Martinmas 1431, and supposed to be chiefly the work of Procopius. The letter
dwells on the corruptions of the ecclesiastical system—the faults of the
clergy, the mischievous effects of wealth on them, their pomp, luxury,
incontinence, and rapacity; on the use of lying legends, on the prohibition of
Holy Scripture, on the abuses of private mass and of confession, on the breach
of the Saviour’s commands as to administration of the Eucharist in both kinds,
as to the persecution of the reformers, and other such matters. To this the
council replied on the 28th of December; and it continued its attempts to
conciliate the Bohemians. At length, after conferences at Eger between representatives
of the two parties, it was agreed that the Bohemians should send deputies to
Basel. One of them had bluntly said, “Lo, you have laws which allow you to
break all promises and oaths; what security then can you give us’”. The
safe-conduct was therefore elaborately drawn up, so as to allow no repetition
of the treachery to which Hus had fallen a victim, and it included permission
for the Bohemians to hold their services in their own fashion within their
lodgings at Basel. The pope at last gave a qualified assent to the attempt
which the council desired to make at reconciliation.
On the 4th of January 1433, Bohemian
deputies, thirty in number, arrived at Basel, where their foreign dress, with
the wild and fierce looks of some among them, produced a great excitement.
Procopius the Great was regarded with peculiar interest and awe for his
combined character of priest and general—as the skilful and terrible commander
before whom so many thousands had fallen. The strangers were received with much
respect by the council and by the magistrates of the city; and notwithstanding
the utter unlikeness of the men, a friendly relation was speedily established
between Cesarini and Procopius, who was often a welcome guest at the legate’s
table.
On the Epiphany, the various
sections of the Bohemians celebrated their religious services, and the curious
spectators who were admitted to witness those of the Taborites and Orphans were
astonished at the absence of an altar (for which a table covered with a towel
was the substitute), of special vestments, and of the usual ceremonies. For
some days there was so much curiosity as to these services, that the legate
thought of forbidding all resort to them; but the interest in them declined,
when their novelty had passed away.
On the 10th of January, the deputies
were formally received by the council, when Cesarini, who had resumed the
presidency, addressed them in an eloquent speech which lasted two hours, and by
the pathos with which, in the name of the mother church, he entreated them to
unity, drew tears from the eyes of many on both sides. Rokyczana, who for some
years had been regarded as the leader of the Calixtines, replied by expressing
thanks for the kindness with which he and his companions had been received, and
by requesting an opportunity of setting forth their opinions.
On the 16th of January the
discussion began. The Bohemians had agreed to insist upon four points, which
were substantially the same as the four articles of Prague; and when these were
stated, some members of the council expressed their surprise that the
differences which had produced so much agitation were not more considerable.
The disputation which followed,
between four champions on each side, was of enormous length—some of the
speeches extending to eight or nine days, and the whole occupying not less than
fifty days. For the Bohemians, who spoke first, appeared Rokyczana, Procopius,
a Taborite bishop named Nicolas, and Peter Payne, who took up time by relating
the troubles which he had undergone in his own country, and was frequently
contradicted by English members of the council. On the part of the council the
argument was begun by John Stojkovic, of Ragusa, the Dominican already
mentioned, who spoke from the 1st to the 11th of February, and was followed by
Giles Carlier, dean of Cambray, Henry Kalteisen, a Dominican and inquisitor of
Mayence, and John of Palomar. Rokyczana then extorted the right of replying to
John of Ragusa, and discoursed from the 2nd to the 10th of March, with the
exception of two days. John of Ragusa wished once more to rejoin, and his
opponent did not object to this; but the council had heard enough, and at last
the debate came to an end. The parties had throughout had different designs;
for the Bohemians hoped that their articles might be accepted and generally
enforced, while the council had no thought of any further concession than
possibly that of allowing the Bohemians to hold their peculiarities by way of
indulgence and exception.
In the course of these discussions,
Rokyczana excited much admiration by his eloquence, and by a readiness of wit
which often enlivened the more serious arguments. Procopius, although he showed
much knowledge of Scripture, excited frequent laughter by the roughness of his
manner. Thus, when the legate mentioned that some Hussites were reported to
have ascribed the origin of the mendicant orders to the devil, Procopius
started up and exclaimed that this was quite true; “for,” said he, “if neither
the patriarchs nor Moses, our Lord nor his apostles, instituted the mendicants,
what can they be but the work of the devil and of darkness?” The enormous
length at which John of Ragusa spoke, and his frequent divergences into
irrelevant subjects, provoked (as he himself candidly informs us) complaints on
the parts of the Bohemians.1 He was also charged by Rokyczana with unfairness
in his quotations; although against this charge he defends himself. But the
chief offence which John gave was by using the word heretic sixteen times
within a few minutes. The Bohemians took this as an insult to themselves.
Procopius, with furious contortions of his face, and his eyes suddenly
bloodshot, exclaimed that it was a violation of the safe-conduct; that he and
his companions would not have come to Basel if they had expected to be branded
as heretics. It was in vain that the legate attempted to restore peace. The
Bohemians absented themselves during the remainder of John’s discourse; and the
matter was carried further after the meeting had broken up. John disavowed,
even with imprecations, any intention of offending the Bohemians, and his
apologies were admitted; but Procopius still refused to meet him at the
legate’s table.
The great debate was followed up by
the appointment of committees, in which the discussion of the Bohemian
differences was continued; and it was agreed that the council should send
envoys into Bohemia. After a solemn leave-taking, therefore, on the 13th of
April (Monday after Easter), the Bohemian deputies set out homewards on the
following day, with Philibert of Coutances, the bishop of Augsburg, Palomar,
Carlier, an English archdeacon, named Alexander, and some others, as
representatives of the council. These representatives were secretly instructed
to work on the differences which existed between the Bohemian parties; and they
found the task easy. They drew into their interest Meinhard of Neuhaus, a
powerful baron, who from that time was the leader of the Bohemian catholics,
and entered into an agreement with other nobles to rescue the management of
public affairs from the hands of the democratic and tyrannical faction, whose
interests were all on the side of war.
The proposals of the council were
embodied in four articles, which afterwards became known by the name of Compactata, and, after much discussion
and some modifications, were agreed on as terms of peace on the 30th of
November :—
(1.) The clergy were allowed to
administer the Eucharist in both kinds to such adults as should desire it; but
always with the explanation that under each kind is the Saviour whole and
perfect.
(2.) The punishment of sins is
declared to belong, not to private persons, but to those who are in
authority—clergy over clergy, and laymen over laity; and regard must always be
had to right and justice.
(3.) As to the demand for free preaching,
it is said that preachers must be authorized by their superiors, and that the
power of the bishops must be regarded.
(4.) The church may possess lands
and temporal property, and may have private and civil lordship over them. The
clergy are bound to administer its property faithfully, and others may not
invade or detain such property.
These terms were granted on
condition that in all other points the Bohemians should conform to the church
as to faith and ceremonies. But although the more moderate among them were
willing to agree to this, the Taborites continued to hold out. The discords
between the various parties became more open and more violent; and on Sunday,
the 30th of May 1434, they came to a head in a great battle at Lipan. The fight
lasted all day, and even through the night until dawn. The slaughter was
immense, and among those who fell were both the Great and the Lesser Procopius.
No quarter was given; and it is said that, after the battle, Meinhard of
Neuhaus—by proclaiming that the war was to be carried on until the neighbouring
nations should be reduced, and that for this purpose the veteran followers of
the Procopii were invited to serve with increased pay—induced a large number of
Taborites and Orphans to enter some barns, as if by way of separating
themselves from the less experienced soldiers; after which the doors were
closed, the buildings were set on fire, and the victims of the treachery were
burnt alive. By this defeat and its consequences, the Taborites and Orphans
were greatly reduced in numbers, and their power was effectually broken.
NICOLAS OF
CUSA.
During the emperor’s absence in
Italy, the council of Basel had risen more and more decidedly into an attitude
of opposition to the pope, and had manifested a desire, not only to triumph
over Eugenius personally, but to humble the Roman see. In this course they were
urged on by the influence of two cardinals—Branda and Capranica—who had special
grievances against Eugenius, and had hurried to Basel in the hope of making the
council an instrument of their vengeance. But still more important than these
cardinals was Nicolas Chryfftz or Krebs, who, from his birthplace, Cüs, on the
Moselle, is generally known by the name of Cusanus. Cusanus, born in 1401, had
raised himself from a very humble station; he was now dean of St. Florin’s, at
Coblentz, and enjoyed a great reputation for character, ability, and learning.
In his treatise “Of Catholic Agreement”, sent forth during the sitting of the
council, he strongly maintains the superiority of general councils over popes;
he holds that the decrees of councils do not derive their force from the papal
sanction; that the pope has no such superiority over other bishops as was
supposed by the extreme papal party; that infallibility is not promised to one
member of the church, but to the whole; that the council may depose a pope, not
only for heresy but for other causes; that the church has the power freely to
choose its own chief; and that, if the archbishop of Treves should be so chosen
by the assembled church, he, rather than the bishop of Rome, would properly be
the successor of St. Peter’s principality. Cusanus also, after investigating
the alleged donation of Constantine and the story connected with it, declares
them to be fabulous; he expresses an opinion that some of the decretals had
been forged for the exaltation of the Roman see to the detriment of the church;
he denies the truth of the belief that the empire had been transferred from the
Greeks to the Germans by the authority of the pope; and, with regard to the
convocation of councils, he is decidedly opposed to the papal pretensions.
The council, at its second session,
renewed the decree of Constance, by which general councils were declared to
have their power immediately from Christ, and to be superior to all other
authority, even that of the pope.
At the third session, the fathers
declared that the dissolution of the council by Eugenius was null; they prayed
him to recall it, to appear at Basel within three months, if his health would allow,
or otherwise to send representatives with full power; and they added that, if
this should be neglected, they would, under the guidance of the Holy Ghost,
take care for the necessities of the church.
At the fourth session (besides
writing to the Bohemians) they decreed that, if the papacy should become vacant
during the continuance of the council, the succeeding pope must be chosen in
the place where it was assembled. They forbade the promotion of any new
cardinals during the existence of the council. They appointed a cardinal to be
governor of Avignon and of the Venaissin, where a nephew of Eugenius had been
unable to get himself acknowledged in that character and they ordered a special
seal to be prepared, with the symbolical dove on one side and the title of the
council on the other.
Eugenius had endeavoured to treat
with the council by sending to Basel the archbishops of Rhodes and Taranto.
These prelates, in speeches addressed to the assembly, dwelt on the necessity
of harmony and cooperation with a view to the reconciliation both of the Greeks
and of the Hussites; and on the superior convenience of Bologna as a place of
meeting, whereas they represented Basel as at once exposed to the Hussites and
inaccessible for both the Greeks and the pope. But the council, in a written
reply, vindicated their course with regard to the pope, and their negotiations
with the Bohemians. They combated the objections which had been made to the
position of Basel, and prayed that the pope would not grieve the Holy Spirit by
interfering with the important work which was before them as to the Greeks, the
Hussites, and the reform of the church.
At the sixth session, the promoters
of the case against the pope requested that, as having failed to appear, he
should be pronounced contumacious and obstinate; he was thrice cited at the
high altar of the cathedral, and thrice at the principal door; but, as might
have been expected, no response was made.
At the eighth session, sixty days
were granted “ex abundanti cautela” to the pope, within which time he was
required to revoke the bull of dissolution, and entirely to join the council.
At the twelfth session, the term was
extended by sixty days more, within which time any promotions or other
exercises of patronage which the pope might make were to be null; and at the
end of it, if he should not have obeyed the order, the cardinals and clergy
were required to leave the Roman court within thirty days.. In the meanwhile
Eugenius, on his part, was employed in preparing two bulls for the dissolution
of the council, denying the validity of all its acts, and forbidding all
obedience to it.
At the thirteenth session, it was
again proposed that, inconsequence of his disregard of citations, the pope
should be declared contumacious. But duke William of Bavaria, as the emperor’s
representative, with the local magistrates and others, intervened, and obtained
a further delay of thirty days, as Sigismund was expected at Basel. The emperor
(who had been formally acknowledged by the council as its protector) had
repeatedly written from Italy, for the purpose of moderating its proceedings,
and had also endeavoured, although vainly, to persuade the pope to concession.
On the day after his arrival, he presented to some deputies of the council a
document which he had at length obtained from Eugenius, revoking the
dissolution, and acknowledging the council. But this was not considered
sufficient.1
At the fourteenth session, where
Sigismund appeared in state, ninety days more were granted to the pope, and
three forms were proposed to be submitted to him, that he might choose which he
would subscribe—all of them, however, containing a declaration that he annulled
his bulls of dissolution, and acknowledged the beginning and continuation of
the council as valid.
In the meantime the intrigues of the
duke of Milan, the arms of the rival condottieri, Sforza, Piccinino, and
Fortebraccio, and the hereditary factions of the Colonna and Orsini families,
distracted Italy, and endangered the temporal dominions of the pope, who felt
himself insecure even in his capital. By these distresses Eugenius was disposed
to seek a reconciliation with the council. By a bull dated on the 15th of
December 1433, and amended from that which the emperor had formerly produced,
he revoked his bulls for dissolution and all sentences which he had uttered
against the council; and this revocation was accepted by the council at its
sixteenth session, on the 5th of February 1434. At the seventeenth session, where the emperor was arrayed in all
the ensigns of his dignity, the pope’s legates were incorporated with the
council, and admitted to the presidency of it, on swearing, in their own names,
that a general council has its authority immediately from Christ, and that all
men, including even the pope, are bound to obey it in matters relating to
faith, to the extinction of schism, and to the reform of the church in head and
members. By this adhesion Eugenius was supposed to sanction all the former
proceedings of the council, as they did not fail afterwards to remind him.
Sigismund, although he had
throughout been friendly to the council, found many things to offend him when
brought into personal intercourse with it. He shrank from the idea of a new
schism, and declared that he would die rather than allow the church to be
divided. He was disappointed at finding that a body of pretensions so imposing
was so scanty in numbers. He felt himself slighted by its entering into
negotiations with other potentates without due reference to him for his
approval; and especially he was disgusted by the disposition which it showed
to meddle with the politics of Germany, as in a case of an appeal from him by
the duke of Lauenburg. On the 19th of May 1443, the emperor left Basel.
The troubles by which Eugenius had
been induced to submit to the council were soon after increased by an
insurrection of his own subjects. On the 29th of May, a multitude of the
Romans, provoked by the contempt with which their complaints had been received
by his nephew, cardinal Francis Condolmieri, rushed to the Capitol with shouts
of “Liberty!” and demanded that Eugenius should make over the government to
bannerets who should be chosen by the people. On his refusing to give up his
nephew as a hostage, the cardinal was torn from his side. Eugenius himself was
placed under the care of a guard at St. Mary’s in the Trastevere, but escaped
in the disguise of a monk, with one companion, to the Tiber, where they found a
boat ready to receive them. But the speed with which the boat was urged down
the stream excited suspicion, and multitudes both on horseback and on foot made
their way direct along the Ostian road to St. Paul’s, while the pope’s progress
was delayed by the windings of the river. Showers of arrows, javelins, and
stones were aimed at his boat from the bank, and attempts were made to pursue
and to intercept it on the water. Eugenius, however, reached Ostia in safety,
and thence, by way of Leghorn and Pisa, he made his way to Florence, where he
was lodged in the monastery of Santa Maria Novella. Among the reforms which he
undertook in the monastic system during his residence at Florence was a
restoration of discipline in that convent, which he transferred to the Friars
Observant of St. Dominic.
The council, after its
reconciliation with Eugenius, had greatly increased in numbers; and for a time
it devoted itself to questions of reform, with a diligence which has missed
somewhat of its due estimation on account of the assembly’s later proceedings.
Decrees were passed for entire freedom of elections in churches; against
simony, expectancies, usurpations of patronage, reservations, annates, and
many exactions by which the Roman court drained the wealth of western
Christendom; against frivolous appeals, against the abuse of interdicts, the
concubinage of the clergy, the burlesque festivals and other indecencies
connected with the service of the church. Rules were laid down as to the
election of popes, and as to their conduct in office. The pope was to make his
profession with some additions to the form prescribed at Constance; and at
every celebration of his anniversary, it was to be read over to him by a
cardinal during the service of the mass. The number of cardinals was limited to
twenty-four: they were to be taken from all Christian countries, and to be
chosen with the consent of the existing cardinals. A very few of royal or
princely families might be admitted, but the nephews of the pope were to be
excluded from the college.
But it was natural that measures of
reform which touched the privileges and the income of the papacy should excite
alarm and jealousy in Eugenius. He sent envoys to beg that the decree against
annates—a payment which he ventured to describe as of immemorial antiquity, and
as sanctioned by the general council of Vienne—might be suspended, or that by
some other means he might be enabled to support his dignity, and to bear the
many charges to which he was liable; but, although his suit was strongly urged
on the council, the answer was that no provision could be made for him until he
should have submitted himself to its authority. On this point Cesarini
separated himself from the other legates, by speaking and voting with the
majority of the assembly. Eugenius vented his grievances against the council in
letters and messages to kings and princes; among other things he complained
that, with a view to meeting the costs of an expected mission from the Greek
church, it had taken on itself to issue an indulgence resembling those which
had been usual for crusades.
The Greeks had been invited into the
west both by the council and by the pope, with a view to confer on the reunion
of the churches; but as to the place of the conference it was impossible to
come to any agreement. The pope was resolved that it should be south of the
Alps, while the council, at a very stormy session, pronounced, by a majority of
more than two-thirds, in favour of Basel, Avignon, or some town in Savoy. But
at the same session the minority of the council, headed by the legates, passed
a decree in recommendation of Florence, Udine, or some other safe place in the
south; and while the decree of the majority was being published from the pulpit
of the cathedral, one of the other party in a distant part of the building read
out that of the minority, which, through the contrivance of the archbishop of
Taranto, was fortified with the seal of the council (as the decree of the
majority had also been), and was forwarded to the pope. Eugenius gave his
sanction to the decision of his partisans, and on the 18th of September he
issued a bull for transferring the council of Basel to Ferrara, although he
allowed a stay of thirty days more at Basel for the purpose of conferring with
the Hussites.
But before this his relations with
the council had become such as to provoke a resumption of the proceedings
against him. At the twenty-sixth session Eugenius was charged with many
offences, and was summoned to appear, in person or by proxy, within sixty days.
At the following session his promotions of cardinals were annulled; and, as it
was reported that he intended to sell Avignon and the Venaissin, in order to
pay for the expected visit of the Greeks, the council forbade this alienation
of property belonging to the Roman see. At the twenty-eighth session his
neglect of the citations was reported, and he was declared to be obstinately
contumacious. A renewal of the schism appeared to be at hand, and Sigismund was
labouring to avert such a calamity, when his efforts were cut short by death,
at Znaym, in Hungary, in the beginning of December 1437.
The pope’s council opened at Ferrara
on the 8th of January 1438; but from among the fathers of Basel the only
defections to it were those of Cesarini, Nicolas of Cusa, and two others.
Cesarini found it impossible to remain at Basel, as the council became more
entirely antipapal, and seemed likely even to fix on himself as the head of a
new schism. He had ceased to attend the sessions of the council since that at
which the proceedings against Eugenius had been resumed; and in the beginning
of 1438 he left Basel.
The council, however, held on its
course, undeterred by the condemnations uttered against it by the pope and by
the rival assembly, who declared the men of Basel to be excommunicate and
deprived, and all their acts to be annulled. At the thirty-first session, it
pronounced that the pope was suspended, and that his powers both in spiritual
and in temporal things had devolved on itself; and it forbade all obedience to
him. The next meeting pronounced the assembly at Ferrara to be a schismatical
conventicle, and cited all its members to appear at Basel within thirty days.
In these proceedings the leaders were Lewis Allemand, cardinal-archbishop of
Arles (the only cardinal who still remained at Basel)—a man who combined in a
rare degree eloquence, temper, firmness, and tact; and Nicolas de Tudesco,
archbishop of Palermo (Panormitanus), the most famous canonist of the age.
In the vacancy of the empire it was
natural that the rival ecclesiastical parties should endeavour to gain the
favour of the German electors. With this view the archbishop of Palermo was
sent on the part of the council to Frankfort, where he was confronted with
representatives of the pope. The electors, however, declared themselves
resolved to stand neutral for the time; and March 7, when Albert of Austria, a
son-in-law of Sigismund, had been chosen as his successor, the neutrality was
continued, notwithstanding the exertions of further missions from both sides.
But in another way the council was able to draw encouragement both from Germany
and from France. Charles of France refused to send representatives to Ferrara.
In an assembly of the French estates, held at Bourges under the presidency of
the king, the reforms of Basel were adopted, and were embodied in a document
known as the Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges; and at a great diet at Mayence, in
March 1439, where envoys both from the pope and from the council appeared, the
reforming decrees of Basel were accepted by the Germans, while those which
related to the process against the pope were set aside.
The resolutions of these assemblies
were evidently guided by a wish to secure the benefits of reform, and at the
same time to avoid the danger of a new schism. But the council, misconceiving
their effect, began to over-estimate its strength, and to flatter itself with
the hope that the French and the Germans would soon formally array themselves
on its side. And thus it continued (as it had before done) to disregard the
intercessions, the warnings, and even the threats, of princes and others who endeavoured
to persuade it to moderation in its proceedings against the pope.
Bishops, in alarm at the headstrong
course on which the council appeared to be resolved, for the most part stayed
at home, or absented themselves from its meetings; but the members of lower
rank went on without hesitation. In April 1439, the question was discussed
whether Eugenius, in consequence of having disregarded the council’s citations,
and of having made a second attempt to dissolve it, were a heretic. Some were
for voting him so simply; some thought that his heresy was aggravated by
relapse, while others were for acquitting him; but at length, after a stirring
debate, the matter was compromised by the ingenious device of voting him a
heretic prolapsed. A violent
discussion took place on the question whether presbyters should have the right
of voting. Many of the bishops, from a wish to gain the assistance of the other
order as allies against the papacy, were disposed to allow this. But the
archbishop of Palermo maintained that they had only a consultative voice; he
spoke of the great body of the council in very contemptuous terms, and
inveighed against the president, the cardinal of Arles, as wishing, with the
assistance of such a rabble, and of two or three titular bishops, to do away
with the rights of the prelacy. At the thirty-third session, on the 16th of
May, the more moderate part of the council, backed by strong representations
from the ambassadors of various powers, was able to obtain that, of eight
articles which had been brought forward against Eugenius, three only, which
bore on the relations of a pope and a council, should be affirmed, and that the
others, which were of a personal nature, should be withdrawn.
The thirty-fourth session of the
council, on the 25th of June, was fixed for the final act. As the attendance of
bishops was expected to be scanty, the cardinal of Arles caused all the relics
of noted sanctity which could be found in Basel to be collected, and, after
having been carried in solemn procession about the streets, to be placed on the
vacant seats; and such is said to have been the effect of this strange device,
that, when the invocation of the Holy Spirit was pronounced, the whole assembly
burst into tears. The number of mitred prelates was small; but the clergy of
inferior dignity amounted to more than three hundred, and their demeanour was
marked by a gravity and a decorum which had not appeared in the late meetings.
Eugenius was once more cited by two bishops; and, as he made no answer, the
decree of the council was pronounced—declaring him to be deposed as
notoriously, manifestly, and obstinately contumacious, a violator of the
canons, guilty of scandal to the whole church, as simoniacal, perjured,
incorrigibly schismatic and obstinately heretical, a dilapidator of the
church’s rights and property, and unfit to administer his office. All faithful
Christians were forbidden to adhere to him, and were discharged from all
obligations to him. And after the delivery of this sentence, the council
chanted a jubilant Te Deum.
A few days later, at a general
congregation, the ambassadors of the emperor and of the French king, to the
surprise of the council, expressed their concurrence in the acts of the late
session, and made excuses for having absented themselves from it.
In the meantime the temporal affairs
of Eugenius had been prosperous. Within a very few months after having expelled
him, the Romans found that the government which they themselves had set up was
more intolerable than that of the pope; that without him their city was a
desert; and having put down the republican magistrates, they requested Eugenius
to resume his authority. For the time he preferred to remain at Florence,
although they entreated him to return in person; and he employed as his lieutenant
John Vitelleschi, bishop of Recanati, whom, in reward of his military services,
he afterwards raised to the dignities of cardinal-archbishop of Florence, and
titular patriarch of Alexandria. But, notwithstanding these high spiritual
preferments, Vitelleschi was little else than a mere condottiere—rough,
ferocious, lustful, cruel, treacherous. In order to establish the pope’s
authority by depressing the hostile family of Colonna, he laid the Campagna
desolate, reduced Palestrina to a ruin more entire than that which had befallen
it in earlier destructions, and compelled the inhabitants to seek a refuge
elsewhere. Yet the Romans, over whom for five years he exercised a despotic
power, willingly bore with his vices and his oppression in consideration of the
blessings of peace and steady government, to which they had long been
unaccustomed.
At length, however, Vitelleschi’s
enemies, by representing him as guilty of ambitious designs for himself,
succeeded in awakening the pope’s suspicions; and by orders from Florence the
soldier-cardinal was treacherously arrested on the bridge of St. Angelo. In
attempting to escape, he received severe wounds; and it is possible that his
death, which took place in prison a fortnight later, may have been caused by
these, although he himself suspected poison, and public opinion charged the
crime on Eugenius. The patriarch’s body, half-naked, was exposed for a time to
the insults of the populace in the church of St. Mary sopra Minerva; but it was
afterwards removed for burial to Corneto; and the Romans, whose gratitude had
outlasted his death, erected a statue to him as a new founder of their city.
Eugenius afterwards disavowed all share in Vitelleschi’s death, on the ground
that his orders had been misunderstood. Scarampo, who had been the agent in the
arrest of the patriarch, succeeded him in his power, and carried on the
administration with severity.
In 1443, after an absence of nine
years, Eugenius himself returned to Rome. A late increase of taxation, and
especially the imposition of a duty on wine, had called forth cries of “Death
to the new taxes, and to those who invented them!”, and although these cries
were not heard as the pope proceeded from the Flaminian Gate towards the
Vatican, the silence of the streets gave token of the popular discontent.
Eugenius, on being informed of this feeling, caused it to be announced that the
taxes were repealed; and at once he was greeted from all sides by acclamations
which accompanied him as far as his palace.
The council of Basel, at its next
session after pronouncing the sentence on Eugenius, resolved to allow an
interval of sixty days before proceeding to a new election. In the meanwhile a
plague broke out in the town, and carried off many of the members, who are said
to have professed in their last moments, while holding the holy Eucharist in
their hands, their firm adherence to the cause of the council, and their
conviction that, in order to salvation, it was necessary to abandon the deposed
pope. The cardinal of Arles was urged to withdraw from Basel for a time, as the
pestilence had shown itself among his household; it was represented to him that
he ought to consult his safety for the sake of the interests which depended on
his life; but he was resolved “to save the council at the peril of his life,
rather than his life at the risk of the council.”
After a few weeks the violence of
the plague diminished and those who had left Basel on account of it gradually
returned. On the 17th of September was held a session, which is remarkable as
having passed a decree in favour of the immaculate conception; although, as the
council’s authority has been disallowed in the Roman communion, that doctrine
was not established as necessary until more than four centuries later.
At the thirty-seventh session, it
was resolved to form an electoral college by associating with the cardinal of
Arles thirty-two other members of the council, to be chosen out of all the
nations and from all classes—bishops, abbots, doctors of theology, canonists,
and ordinary clergy. England, which had transferred itself to the rival
council, was the only country unrepresented; but Thomas, abbot of Dundrennan, a
Cistercian house in the Scottish diocese of Candida Casa, was one of three who
were named by the council, and to whom the choice of the rest was entrusted. In
order to an election, a majority of two-thirds was required. The arrangements
for the conclave were carefully made, and, while the election was in suspense,
holy relics were displayed, and solemn processions moved about the streets, in
order to implore a successful issue.
On the first day seventeen
candidates were brought forward : and on the sixth day the choice of the
electors fell, by a majority which had increased in the successive divisions
until it included all but seven, on Amadeus, ex-duke of Savoy. This prince,
after having for thirty-eight years governed his state with a high reputation,
had in 1434 made over the administration to his son, although he still retained
a control over the younger duke; and, under the title of dean of St. Maurice,
he had become the head of a brotherhood of aged knights, which he founded at
Ripaille, on the southern shore of the Lake of Geneva. The character of
Amadeus, both as prince and as hermit, is highly extolled by Aeneas Sylvius;
and, although it is probable that the discipline of Ripaille was of no very
ascetic kind, the charges of luxury and voluptuousness which have been brought
against the society appear to be exaggerations, unsupported by contemporary
authority, and swollen by hatred of him as an antipope before they were eagerly
turned to account by sceptical writers. There can be no doubt that the council
was guided in its choice by a consideration of the duke’s powerful connexions,
and of the private means which would enable him to support in some degree the
papal dignity, although deprived of the territorial revenues and of the other
resources which had been commonly attached to it; indeed, these recommendations
had been impressed on the electors by the cardinal of Arles, who had also
expressed a hope that the new pope might be able, by his power as a secular
prince, to recover the possessions of the Roman see. And, although wonder was
generally felt that a man of such eminent position should undertake the burden
of a contested papacy, it was supposed by some, even in his own time, that his
withdrawal from the government of his hereditary state, and his assumption of
the character of a hermit, had been prompted by a desire of the doubtful
spiritual dignity which he had now attained.
FELIX V
Amadeus, on receiving a report of
his election from a deputation headed by the cardinal of Arles, professed, with
tears in his eyes, that he was unwilling to leave his quiet life. But his
reluctance, whether real or affected, was at length overcome. He was enthroned
in the church of St. Maurice; and, after having gone through other customary
formalities, he was crowned at Basel on the 23rd of July 1440. The ceremony was
very splendid. The tiara, which was of great magnificence, was placed on the
antipope’s head by the cardinal of Arles; four other cardinals, who had been
promoted by Amadeus himself, assisted, and eight bishops officiated as proxies
for cardinals who were absents The knightly hermits of Ripaille were present to
do honour to their chief; but the most remarkable feature in the ceremony was
the appearance of the new pope’s sons, the duke of Savoy and the count of
Geneva, who stood on either side of him, and assisted him at the mass. Although
he had stipulated that he should be allowed to retain his own name, and the
beard which adorned him as a hermit, he had afterwards yielded to papal
precedent in both respects, and styled himself Felix V.
It soon appeared, however, that the
council could expect but little aid in the daring course on which it had
ventured. It had already been deserted by many of its most important members;
and, although it continued to proceed in disregard both of the violent censures
which were denounced against it by Eugenius with his rival council, and of the
visible decrease of its own authority, its supporters were limited to Savoy,
Switzerland, queen Elizabeth of Hungary (widow of the emperor Albert), a few
German princes and towns, a part of the Carthusian order, and the Franciscans
of Germany, with some universities of Germany, France, and Poland. The duke of
Milan, who had married a daughter of Felix, made overtures for an alliance, but
the terms which he proposed were exorbitant, and nothing came of the
negotiation. Alfonso of Aragon, who, after much politic hesitation, had given
in his adhesion to the council, sided with it for a time in the hope of making
good his claim to Naples through its influence . The countenance which the
imperial and the French ambassadors had professed to give to the deposition of
Eugenius was found to be fallacious. The emperor had written to the council,
strongly reprobating the measure, and desiring them to refrain from any attempt
to choose a successor; and among the Germans in general the deposition and the
election were regarded as acts done in contempt of their own neutrality. The
king of France, on receiving at Bourges a missive from the council, expressed
disapproval of its late proceedings; he spoke of Felix by his secular title,
and exhorted both him and the council to study the peace of the church. Yet he
did not disown the council, nor adhere to the rival assembly of Ferrara. The
popularity of the council was not increased in France by its imposing a tax of
a fifth for five years, and a tenth for the following five years, on all
ecclesiastical benefices which should become vacant; for in this way it was
intended to provide Felix with an official income until he should recover the
patrimony of the church.
FREDERICK III,
EMPEROR
The emperor Albert died on the 5th
of November 1439, and in his room was elected, as king of the Romans, his
cousin Frederick, duke of Styria, a prince of dull and unenterprising
character, whose reign extended to fifty-three years. Before his promotion
Frederick had been favourable to the council, so that both the members of it
and pope Felix had hopes of drawing him into their interest by the offer of the
imperial crown. The question between the pope and the council was discussed at
three German diets by representatives of the opposite parties. At the second of
these diets, in 1441, the archbishop of Palermo exerted himself with all his
powers to show that the council was still of full authority, and that it had
been justified in all its measures. But Nicolas of Cusa asserted the cause of Eugenius
with great force. Only seven bishops, he said, had voted for the deposition of
the pope, whereas not less than twelve were requisite to depose a simple
bishop. And he was able to allege the success of Eugenius in reconciling the
Greeks and other orientals—a success which, however unsubstantial and
transitory (as we shall see hereafter), told powerfully for the time as a token
of the Divine favour. It was proposed that another general council should be
summoned and in the meantime Germany was to persevere in its neutrality.
The council continued to decline in
numbers and in authority. The members wasted much of their time in
discreditable squabbles. At the forty-third session, where Felix presided, a
decree was passed for celebrating the Visitation of the blessed Virgin (July
2)—a festival which had been instituted by Urban VI and confirmed by Boniface
IX, but had never been sanctioned by the popes of the Avignon line. As a motive
for this decree, it was said that the Virgin’s intercession was especially
needed in the disunited condition of the church.
On the 11th of November, Frederick
appeared at Basel. He was received by Felix (with whom he had before had an
interview at Susa), and by nine of his cardinals; but, although he behaved with
great respect to the antipope, his treatment of him was marked by an avowed
reserve. Instead of the titles of Holiness and Beatitude, the bishop of
Chiemsee, who spoke in the emperor’s name, was instructed to address Felix as Your Clemency and Your Benignity; and he explained that the emperor refrained from
showing the usual marts of reverence, in order that he might preserve his
neutrality, and so might be better fitted to act as a mediator and a
peacemaker. To this Felix replied that he took all in good part, and he protested
that he had not accepted the papacy from motives of ambition, but solely in the
hope of comforting the church in her affliction.
Felix, under the plea of illness,
withdrew from Basel to Lausanne, promising to return in the following spring;
but he never fulfilled this promise, nor perhaps was he ever asked to fulfil
it.
The council continued to sink, and
was specially weakened by losing the support of Alfonso of Aragon. Joanna II.
of Naples, at her death, in February 1435, had left her kingdom to René, the
brother of Lewis of Anjou, who had died in the preceding year. The pope, who
had affected to treat Naples as a fief which had lapsed to the Roman see, was
disposed to favour René’s interest; while Alfonso still maintained his
pretensions, and advanced fresh claims as the heir of king Manfred and of the
Hohenstaufen. But in 1443 Eugenius found it expedient to abandon René, who,
through want of sufficient means, had been unsuccessful in his attempts. After
stipulations on both sides, Alfonso received from Rome a bull of investiture in
the Neapolitan kingdom and in consideration of this he agreed to forsake
the council of Basel, and to withdraw his bishops from it—among them the
formidable Nicolas of Palermo, who thereupon gave up the insignia of the cardinalate,
to which he had been promoted by Felix.
The forty-fifth session was held on
the 16th of June 1443, when Lyons was chosen as the place of the next general
council; and, although the council of Basel declared itself to be still in
existence, it never met again.
The authority of this assembly has
been variously estimated within the Roman communion. The more moderate divines
in general acknowledge its ecumenical character as far as the twenty-sixth
session—i.e., until the time when
Eugenius proposed to transfer it to Ferrara. But the advanced Gallicans
maintain its authority throughout; and by the more extreme Romanists it is
altogether disavowed.
We may now turn to the history of
the council which had been summoned by Eugenius with a view to the union of the
Greek and the Latin churches. Although the old dislike of the Greeks for the
Latins had rather been increased than lessened by all earlier negotiations for
this purpose, their danger from the Turks, which continually became more
urgent, compelled them to fresh attempts to gain assistance from the west
throughout the reign of Manuel. His son, John Palaeologus II, who succeeded to
the throne in 1425, had been advised by him to look towards the west for
support, and endeavoured to act on this policy. He had visited western Europe
in 1423, for the purpose of begging assistance, and he appears to have even
entertained the idea of succeeding Sigismund as emperor of the west, and of
thus reuniting both the empire and the church.
In the course of his communications
with pope Martin, the emperor signified his readiness to attend a general
council (although his father had warned him against such a measure), and, in
consequence of an invitation from the council of Basel, some representatives of
the Greeks, headed by the protovestiary Demetrius Palaeologus, appeared at
Basel in 1434. The council, in return, sent John of Ragusa and others to
Constantinople; but, besides the necessary difficulties of the case, it was
found that the breach between the pope and the council—authorities which the
Greeks had supposed to be in unison with each other—introduced an extraordinary
perplexity into the negotiations.
There was much discussion as to the
place where the intended council should meet. The Greeks at Basel objected to
that city as being too remote for the attendance of their countrymen, who
supposed it to be beyond the Pillars of Hercules. They desired that some more accessible place in Italy or
elsewhere should be fixed on; and the emperor urged this especially on the
ground of the patriarch’s age and infirmity, while the fathers of Basel (as has
been related) suggested Avignon by way of compromise.
An indiscreet expression, that the
council had endeavoured to put down the old separation of the Greeks as well
as the new separation of the Bohemians, was studiously circulated in
exaggerated terms, with the intention of exasperating the Greeks. The envoys
of the council at Constantinople threw the blame on the mistake of a scribe;
but the Greeks would not accept this explanation. The emperor, however,
interposed by remarking that it did not matter what the Latins might say or
boast among themselves, if they would forward the pacification of the church;
that he hoped to see the expression in question, and any other faulty language,
amended in the general council; and at length the Latin envoys appeased the
outcry by withdrawing the offensive words.
The project of a conference with the
Greeks afforded Eugenius (as we have seen) a pretext for ordering the
translation of the council from Basel to Ferrara; and, as the breach became
wider, each party used the most strenuous efforts to secure the expected
visitors. Missions were sent by both to the emperor and to the patriarch;
rival funds were raised to meet the expenses of the Greeks, and for this
purpose the council engaged in a sale of indulgences; rival fleets were hired
at Venice and Marseilles, and were despatched for their conveyance; and it was
not without difficulty that the emperor was able, by threats and absolute
prohibitions, to prevent these from fighting within sight of Constantinople, as
the pope’s admiral, his nephew cardinal Francis Condolmieri, declared that he
was instructed to sink and destroy the ships of the council’s fleet. The two
legates vied with each other in offers of money, although the patriarch
Joasaph protested that, if the Latins were allowed to pay the expenses of the
Greeks, these would be unable to maintain their independence. But the pope’s
emissaries (among whom was Nicolas of Cusa) were perhaps less scrupulous in
intrigue than their opponents, and succeeded in gaining their object. On the
29th of November 1437, the emperor and the patriarch, with twenty-two bishops
and a great train of ecclesiastics, set sail on board the Venetian ships
provided by the pope. The patriarch, in defiance of the remonstrances of his
clergy, took with him the precious gold and silver vessels of St Sophia’s; the
emperor and his court were splendidly equipped at the cost of the church’s
treasures, which he had seized for the purpose; and, with a view to controversial
use, the theologians were furnished with a large collection of books. By those
who expected no good result from the expedition, an earthquake which occurred
immediately after the emperor’s embarkation, two days earlier, had been
regarded as a token of the Divine anger. After a tedious voyage, varied by
occasional landings and residences on shore, the Greeks—more than 500 in
all—arrived at Venice on the 8th of February, and were received with much splendour,
although the ceremony was somewhat marred by rain. The magnificence of the
great trading city appears to have impressed them as deeply as in an earlier
age the companions of Henry Dandolo had been impressed by the glories of
Constantinople: “Of it,” says a Greek, “I suppose the prophet to speak, ‘God
hath founded it upon the seas, and prepared it upon the floods’.” The riches of
St. Mark’s church were seen with a strong and peculiar interest, as being
derived in great measure from the plunder of the Byzantine sanctuaries in that
crusade which for a time had subjected the east to Latin emperors. On the other
hand, a Greek tells us that the Venetians crowded to the religious services of
the strangers, declaring that, so long as they had not seen Greeks, they had
supposed them to be barbarians, but that they now knew them to be the firstborn
of the church, and that the Holy Spirit spoke in them. At Venice, the Greeks
became fully informed of the hostility which had arisen between the pope and
the council of Basel. Their first inclination was to join the council, while
the doge advised them to remain at Venice, so as to hold the balance between
the parties. But at length they decided on accepting the pope’s invitation,
partly in consequence of the advice of cardinal Cesarini, who happened
opportunely to pass through Venice after having forsaken Basel for Ferrara. The
emperor wrote to the council of Basel, exhorting its members to join the new
assembly.
On reaching Ferrara, it was found
that there were deep questions of etiquette to be settled, as, indeed, the
Greeks had in some degree been already apprised. The emperor was received by
Eugenius standing, and, after having kissed his hand, was about to throw
himself at his feet, when the pope prevented the act, and seated him at his own
left hand, which the emperor reverently kissed. But the patriarch, who had
declared at Venice that he would deal with the pope only as an equal in rank—as
a father, a brother, or a son, according as their respective ages might
determine,—was told, both on the way and by a deputation which greeted him on
his arrival, that he would be required to kiss the pope’s foot. His natural
indignation at this was increased by the fact that the members of the
deputation were not, in his opinion, of sufficient dignity to be employed by
the pope on such a commission. Long and lively discussions arose; but at length
the patriarch, by firmly refusing the degrading obeisance, was able to get
himself excused. More, however, remained behind. The patriarch was told that he
could not be allowed a higher rank than that of the cardinals, who (it was
said) took precedence even of the western emperor; and, although he had hoped
that his own sovereign might receive from the spectacle of the pope’s grandeur
a wholesome lesson as to the relations of the spiritual and the secular powers,
he was not prepared for this. At the solemn reception in the church of St.
George, and afterwards at the sessions of the council, while the pope occupied
the central seat, the emperor of the Romaeans (as he was styled), who had supposed the place of highest dignity to be due to
himself, was seated at a lower level, in a chair corresponding to the vacant
chair of the western emperor, and the patriarch was on an equality with the
cardinals. At every possible point, and on every possible occasion, the battle
of ceremony was renewed, to the irritation both of the eastern clergy and of
the emperor.
The council had been opened by the
cardinal-legate Albergati on the 8th of January, and the pope had been at
Ferrara from the 27th of that month. But the Greeks were much disappointed by
the scanty numbers of the assembly, and it was agreed that an interval of four
months should be allowed to pass before the beginning of the formal sessions,
in the hope that, by dispatching envoys to the princes of the west, the council
might induce these to send representatives. The Greeks, in the meanwhile,
indulged in the fancy that the fathers of Basel were to be added to those of
Ferrara.
While waiting for the result, the
emperor withdrew to a monastery some miles from the city, where he devoted
himself to sporting in a style which both injured the cultivators of the soil
and disgusted the owner, the marquis of Ferrara.
During this delay the ecclesiastics
who were at Ferrara engaged twice a week in skirmishes on the points in dispute
between the churches, and for these encounters twelve champions were selected
on each side. Among the Greeks, the most eminent were Marcus Eugenicus,
archbishop of Ephesus, and proxy for the patriarch of Antioch, and Bessarion,
archbishop of Nicaea—both lately promoted to the episcopate, with a view to the
discussion with the Latins.
Contrary to the usual custom of the
Greeks, the emperor would not allow laymen of high rank to take any part in the
disputation,—professing that such matters were for ecclesiastics only, but
really from a wish to keep the management in his own hands, and to make the
clergy answerable for any failure. Among the Latins, the most conspicuous disputants
were cardinal Julian Cesarini and John, provincial of the Dominicans in
Lombardy. It is said that the saintly Bernardine of Siena, by prayer for the
Divine assistance, was enabled to dispute fluently in Greek, without any
previous knowledge of the language. The roughness of Mark of Ephesus
contrasted so unfavourably with the graceful and persuasive oratory of
Cesarini, that it was sometimes necessary for the Greeks to substitute
Bessarion as their advocate; yet Cesarini’s copiousness was sometimes found to
be wearisome, and Syropulus (who probably expresses the opinion of his
countrymen) tells us that, although the cardinal was the more eloquent, the
archbishop of Ephesus was the stronger and the more solid. Cesarini
endeavoured, as at Basel, to employ hospitality as a means of conciliation and
persuasion, but when the patriarch became aware of this, he forbade his clergy
to accept the cardinal’s invitations. The difficulties of language were
smoothed by the skill of Nicolas Secondino, a native of Negropont, who
interpreted the speeches on both sides.
The Latins supposed the Greeks to be
heretical on no less than fifty-four points; but the chief subjects of discussion
were limited to four—(1) The procession of the Holy Ghost; (2) purgatory; (3)
the use of leavened or unleavened bread in the Eucharist; and (4) the primacy
of the pope. But the Greeks felt that they were not at liberty. The emperor, in
his zeal for union (or rather for the material gain which he expected from
union) kept a strong hold over them. No one was allowed to leave the town
without a passport; and measures were taken to prevent them from privately
returning to Constantinople, and for the severe punishment of any who should
make the attempt. A plague broke out, and alarmed them greatly, although the
sufferers were almost exclusively either Latins or followers of the patriarch
of Russia, Isidore, a Greek by birth, who reached Ferrara in August, with a
great train of horses. A rumour that the sultan Amurath was about to attack
Constantinople excited them to press for immediate aid; but all that the
emperor’s importunity could obtain from the pope was a promise of two small
vessels—a promise which was never fulfilled.
But more than all other distresses,
that of subsistence pressed heavily on the Greeks. They had been annoyed by
finding that, instead of an allowance in money for this purpose, rations were
doled out to them; but now the supply became irregular, and the reason of this
was not to be mistaken. The allowance fell more than four months into arrear,
and applications or complaints were treated with rudeness. Many were obliged to
sell their property, and even to pledge their clothes, for the sake of food.
The pliant were supplied, while the more stubborn were reduced to misery by hunger,
and when they had thus been brought to concession, they were rewarded with
money and provisions.
The first question which was debated
was that of purgatory. As to this, the Latins maintained that, while souls free
from stain, such as those of the saints, go immediately after death into bliss,
and while the souls of those who die in mortal sin go into eternal torments,
the intermediate class—the souls of those who have repented, and have died in
the enjoyment of the church’s rites, yet whose sins, committed after baptism,
have not been fully done away with in this life,—must undergo a cleansing by
purgatorial fire, which will be longer or shorter according to the character of
their guilt; that in this state they may be assisted by masses and alms; and
that, having been thus purified, they will enter into the happiness of the
saints. The Greeks, on the other hand, held that purgatory is not a place of
fire, but that its suffering consists in darkness, gloom, and exclusion from
the Divine presence.
On this subject the discussion was
long protracted, and the arguments of Mark and Bessarion, on the Greek side,
were fused into a treatise by Gemistius, under whom both the archbishops had
formerly studied.
The first regular session of the
council was on the 8th of October, when disputants were chosen by each side,
and Bessarion made a long speech, to which the archbishop of Rhodes replied at
similar length at the next meeting. At the third session, the subject of the
procession of the Holy Spirit was brought forward. The discussion turned mainly
on the question whether the article of the procession from the Son were an
addition to the creed, of such a kind as to contravene the decree of the
general council of Ephesus, which had forbidden the making of any new creed
other than that of the Nicene council—or whether (as the Latins contended) it
were merely a legitimate explanation. On this question the dispute was carried
on until the fifteenth session (Dec. 8), without any approach to agreement. The
Latins were unable to trace the interpolation higher than the age of
Charlemagne, although, they produced a canon of a council at Toledo, anathematizing
all who should refuse it; and they wished to discuss the article on its merits.
To this the Greek emperor was willing to agree, as were also Bessarion and the
primate of Russia; and the great majority of the assembly voted for it,
although the patriarch objected that, as the Latins were obstinate on the
question of the verbal addition, they would probably be found yet more
intractable on the question of the truth of doctrine.
At the fifteenth session, the pope
signified his intention of transferring the council to Florence. For this the
prevailing sickness gave a pretext, although it had already begun to subside.
But the Greeks, supposing that the translation was intended as a means of
bringing them more under the pope’s control, made vehement objections; some of
them, among whom was Mark of Ephesus, attempted to abscond. The emperor
endeavoured to soothe them; the pope told them that in consequence of the
occupation of his territory by Piccinino, he was deprived of the means of
entertaining them, but that they might be assured of receiving splendid
hospitality from the Florentines. As their allowance was now five months in
arrear, this argument told powerfully on them; and when they consented to the
removal of the council, they were rewarded by the payment of a part of what was
due to them. On the 16th of January 1439, the pope left Ferrara in state—the
marquis of Ferrara holding his rein; the Greeks followed, although unwillingly;
and, after having been exposed to some dangers on the way, through the
disturbed state of the country, they reached Florence on the 13th of February,
and were received with great demonstrations of honour.
Early in March the debates as to the
procession of the Holy Ghost were resumed; and the question was now discussed
on its merits. The decision, however, was to rest on the authority of the Greek
fathers only, as the Greeks refused to know anything of the Latin ecclesiastical
writers. But there was much suspicion as to some of the authorities which were
produced on the Latin side. And a fierce dispute was carried on as to a passage
of St. Basil; for the Greeks asserted that this was corrupt in the copies used
by the Latins, and, although they admitted that the text was the same in some
copies at Constantinople, they said that the best manuscripts were without the
words on which the Latins relied.
While the Latins were united among
themselves, differences of opinion became manifest among the Greeks, and a
jealousy which had early appeared between the archbishops of Ephesus and
Nicaea broke out into violent quarrels. Mark of Ephesus was vehement in the
assertion of the Greek doctrine, and declared that all who held the double
procession were not only schismatics but heretics. Bessarion was more artful
and more conciliatory, maintaining that the difference between the churches
was one of expression only—not of doctrine,—and drawing distinctions of meaning
between the prepositions which had been used in speaking of the procession. The
two became excited. Bessarion spoke of Mark as possessed and mad—an imputation
which was seconded by a rumour industriously spread; while the archbishop of
Ephesus retorted by styling his opponent a bastard and an apostate, and at last
withdrew from the sessions.
The pope reproached the Greeks for
wasting their time. The emperor exerted himself in all possible ways to put a
pressure on the divines of his church. The system of withholding supplies was
employed anew and with increased effect; money, skilfully given when the
receivers had been reduced to actual hunger, exercised a powerful influence on
their opinions; nor was more direct bribery wanting. Under these various
influences, the labours of the council for union made progress. The
twenty-fifth and last session was held on the 24th of March, when the emperor
summed up the discussion on the question of the procession by saying that the
Greeks had their creed from Scripture and the ecumenical councils, without
addition or diminution, but that the Latin addition was agreeable to the
teaching of the Scriptures; that, as the Greeks would not receive the addition,
and the Latins refused to alter it, he would leave the pope to devise terms of
union; otherwise the Greeks would return home.
Ten representatives of each side
were appointed to draw up a form of union; and after much lively argument and
the rejection of many proposed schemes, a definition was at length agreed on—being
framed in Latin by Ambrose Traversari, head of the Camaldolite order, and
rendered into Greek by Bessarion. (1.) The question as to the procession of the
Holy Ghost was compromised on the ground that the Greeks, by speaking of Him as
proceeding from the Father, did not exclude the Son, but only intended to guard
against the opinion which they had supposed the Latins to entertain, of the
Spirit’s proceeding as if from two Principles; and that, as the Latins
disavowed this, the two churches really held the same truth under different
forms of expression. (2.) As to the question of leavened or unleavened bread in
the Eucharist, it was decreed that the sacrament may be consecrated in either
kind, and that each of the churches may retain its own custom. (3.) It is
affirmed that souls whose sins have not been fully expiated in this life are
purified by purgatorial pains after death, and that they may be aided by
masses, prayers, alms, and other works of piety; but as to the nature of
purgatory nothing is defined against the opinion of either church. (4.) The
Roman pontiff is declared to have the primacy of the whole world, as being the
successor of St. Peter, who was chief of the apostles and true vicar of Christ;
and that to him, in St. Peter, was given by the Saviour “full power of tending,
directing, and governing the church, according as is contained both in the
acts of the ecumenical councils and in the sacred canons.” The other
patriarchal sees—Constantinople, Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem—were to
hold the same order as of old, “to wit, with all their privileges and rights
preserved.”
Although, however, the substance of
the definition was settled, there remained irritating questions of form. Was
the name of the emperor or that of the pope to stand first? Was the pope alone
to be mentioned, or were the other patriarchs to have a like honour? And for
two days the conclusion was delayed by a dispute whether the word “all” should
be inserted in the reservation of the rights of oriental patriarchs. The pope
was able to carry the question of precedence over the emperor, and the word
“all” was at length conceded to the Greeks.
The patriarch Joasaph, who had
throughout exerted himself in favour of union, died after a long illness on the
10th of June; and the Greeks became more eager than before to return to their
own country.
By degrees all the Greek bishops
were brought over with the exception of Mark of Ephesus, who had procured,
through the emperor’s brother, a promise that he should not be compelled to sign
the definition, and should be sent home in safety. “Then we have done nothing
at all,” was the pope’s remark, on being informed of this exception.
Some important ecclesiastical
officers were compelled, after much reluctance, to subscribe—a compulsion which
they felt as an especial hardship, because they had not been allowed to vote.
Among these was the chronicler of the council, Syropulus, “great ecclesiarch”
(or chief sacristan) of the church of Constantinople, who satisfied his
conscience by resolving to do penance, or to retract at some future
opportunity. At last the definition, which ran in the name of pope Eugenius,
with the “consent” of John Palaeologus and of the representatives of the
eastern patriarchs, was completed by the subscriptions.
On the 6th of July—little more than
a week after the day on which the council of Basel had pronounced Eugenius to
be deposed,—his triumph over the Greek church was celebrated in the magnificent
cathedral which he had lately consecrated. All Florence kept holiday in honour
of the great occasion. A vast multitude thronged the building, and looked with
curiosity and reverence on the rich attire of the Greek prelates—unaltered
from the early ages of the church. The definition of the council was read in
Latin by Cesarini, and in Greek by Bessarion, and was received with general
acclamations. The representatives of the churches embraced each other; the
Greeks kissed the pope’s knees and hand, and the act of reconciliation was
followed by a solemn mass, at which the Greeks were astonished to see the pope
drink the eucharistic wine through a tube.
But very soon fresh differences
arose. Varieties as to ritual and other matters—among them, as to the practice
of divorce—were brought forward and discussed. It was found impossible to solve
in a satisfactory manner the question as to the invasion of eastern sees by
Latin bishops. The Latins, having secured the victory, treated the Greeks with
contempt, and when it was proposed that they should in their turn attend a Greek
mass, the pope insulted the Greeks by requiring that the service should
previously be rehearsed before himself or the cardinals. Moreover the Greeks
still found themselves annoyed and distressed by delays and hindrances as to
the payment of their allowance.
The pope wished to have the
refractory archbishop of Ephesus made over to him for correction; he desired
that the Greeks should elect a patriarch at Florence, and recommended for their
choice the Latin patriarch, as a man who, in addition to other qualifications,
was wealthy, and so far advanced in years that his riches might be expected to
fall in no long time to the church. But the emperor replied that the Latins had
nothing to do with the case of Mark, who, if faulty, ought to be judged by his
Greek brethren; and that the patriarch must be chosen in the imperial city by
the votes of the whole province, and must be consecrated in the church of St.
Sophia.
On leaving Florence, the Greeks
found fresh cause of complaint as to the manner in which they were conveyed
homewards; for as to this the pope’s engagements were very imperfectly
observed. At Bologna some of them lodged in the same inn with some English
envoys, who were on their way to the papal court. The Englishmen asked what had
been done in the council; and on being informed of the result, they remarked,
to the disgust of the Greeks, who had been boasting of its entire success,
that, if there were no agreement as to the words of the creed, as to the
doctrine of the procession, or as to the use of the eucharistic bread, the
pretended union did not deserve the name. Already some of those who had
conformed began to show repentance and shame. At Venice, where the bishop of
Heraclea was compelled by the emperor to celebrate a Greek mass in St. Mark’s,
the words of the double procession and the prayer for the pope were omitted. At
Corfu and elsewhere there were displays of the dissatisfaction which had been
called forth by the late concessions; and at Constantinople a storm of
execration and reproach arose, such as in an earlier age had greeted the
representatives of the eastern church on their return from the second council
of Lyons. The churches were deserted, although, in compliance with the popular
feeling, the prayer for the pope and all mention of the union were suppressed.
Even the emperor’s own name was in some churches omitted from among those
commemorated in the diptychs. The vacant patriarchate was refused by the
bishops of Heraclea and Trebizond, who, with professions of deep remorse,
retracted their late compliances with the Latins. There was an attempt to elect
the stubborn champion of eastern orthodoxy, Mark of Ephesus, to the vacant see,
although he himself refused to concur. Metrophanes, bishop of Cyzicus, who
accepted the office, found that the people turned their backs on his
benediction. The emperor’s brother Demetrius, who had refused to subscribe the
union at Florence, and had withdrawn from that city in anger, raised against
John the standard of earlier orthodoxy. Bishops and others withdrew from the
patriarch’s communion, and high officials of the church—among them the “great
ecclesiarch” Syropulus—resigned their offices, while Metrophanes endeavoured by
violent means to enforce the union, ejecting bishops and others who opposed
it, and even invading the jurisdiction of other patriarchs.
In 1443 the patriarchs of
Alexandria, Antioch, and Jerusalem held a council, at which, by a slight change
in his name, Metrophanes was stigmatized as a murderer of his mother, the
church. They denounced the council of Florence, and declared the patriarch,
with all metropolitans, bishops, and others intruded by him, to be deposed;
and, emboldened by living under the rule of Mahometan sovereigns, they
threatened the emperor with the extreme censures of the church if he should
continue in his heterodoxy. Some of the Greek prelates went so far as to
address a friendly letter to the Hussites, urging them to union with the Greek
church, as the means of withstanding the common enemy.
The attempt to unite the churches by
such sacrifices as those to which the Greeks had submitted at Florence, had
drawn forth no effective help from the west; and the increased alienation which
resulted from its failure tended to accelerate the ruin of the Byzantine
empire.
The primate of Russia and the
archbishop of Nicaea had been promoted to the cardinalate, in order at once to
reward their past services and to secure their influence for the maintenance of
the union. But the hopes which were thus rested on them were disappointed. Isidore,
on returning to Russia, found that the prince, Basil, upbraided him at the
public service of the church as a traitor to the orthodox cause, and that the
clergy rejected him. He was even imprisoned in a monastery, and was glad to
make his escape to Rome, whence he was afterwards sent to Constantinople as
representative of pope Nicolas V. The more prudent Bessarion, declining either
to resume his Asiatic see or to accept an appointment by the emperor and the
synod to the patriarchate of Constantinople, remained in the west to enter on a
new and brilliant career.
From Florence Eugenius, in April
1443, translated the council to Rome; and, about a fortnight after his return
to that city he reopened the sessions in the church of St. John Lateran. Before
leaving Florence he had received into communion some representatives of the
Armenian church, and, to complete the supposed reunion of Christendom, he now
received deputies (real or pretended) of the Copts, the Jacobites, the
Maronites, and the Chaldeans, even Prester John, whose seat had been fancifully
transferred to Ethiopia, was reported by the pope to have ambassadors on their
way to the council. But in the case of these remoter Christians, as in that of
the Greeks, it soon appeared that the reconciliation was unsubstantial.
Eugenius had projected an expedition
against the Turks in favour of his imperial ally. The Germans, English, and
French were so deeply engaged in their discords at home, that no help could be
expected from them as nations, although adventurers both from France and from
Germany joined in the enterprise. Julian Cesarini, who had been promoted to the
episcopal cardinalate of Frascati, was commissioned to exert his eloquence for
the sacred cause in Hungary and Poland, and readily gained Ladislaus, an
ambitious young prince, who reigned over both of these countries. A great army
was collected; and at its head, under Ladislaus, was John Huniades, a general
already famous for his skill in war; while arrangements were made for the
co-operation of the Byzantine emperor, of the famous George Castriot, or
Scanderbeg, and of fleets from Venice and Genoa. The crusaders (on whom the
cardinal was careful to impress the religious character of their expedition by
regular masses, preaching, and other exercises) advanced as far as Sophia, the
Bulgarian capital, and gained two considerable victories, which were celebrated
by a triumph at Buda. The Turks sued for peace on terms highly favourable to
the Christians; and Ladislaus concluded with them a ten-years’ truce, which was
ratified by oaths on the sacred books of both parties. During these
negotiations the cardinal had kept silence, although visibly annoyed by the
course which they took. But before the conference was ended, he received
tidings of the expected allies, which seemed to open a prospect of greater
successes. Carried away by enthusiasm, he urgently represented to the king that
the Turks had not fulfilled all their stipulations; that an engagement made
with infidels without the papal sanction was of no force. He declared that, by
the pope’s authority, he absolved the crusaders from their oaths; and he
vehemently reproached a Polish bishop who opposed the breach of faith. To these
unhappy suggestions Ladislaus listened; and, with a force greatly weakened by
the withdrawal of the French, the Germans, and others, who had supposed the
campaign to be at an end, he again, in defiance of warnings, advanced into
Bulgaria. But on reaching Varna, where the auxiliary fleets had been expected,
it was found that, instead of these, sultan Amurath appeared at the head of an
overwhelming force, which had been conveyed into Europe by Genoese ships;
furious on account of the late perfidy, and even, (it is said) calling on the
Saviour to avenge the dishonour done by His worshippers to His name. In the
engagement which followed, the victory seemed for a time to incline to the
side of the crusaders; but their impetuosity proved fatal to them. About
10,000 were slain—among them, king Ladislaus, who fell while charging the
janissaries. The fate of Cesarini is more mysterious, and is related in
various ways. The most probable story seems to be, that, in fleeing from the
field, he stopped to give his horse water, and, while so employed, was killed
by robbers, who stripped his body naked, and left it to be recognized by some
of his followers.
In Bohemia, the result of the battle
of Lipan had thrown the chief power into the hands of the Calixtines, among
whom Rokyczana was now the most prominent leader. The Orphans were broken up as
a party, and the remains of them were divided between the Calixtines and the
Taborites, while the Taborites, although weakened, were still considerable, and
continued their extreme opposition to the Roman system, both in doctrines and
in the externals of religion.
During the years which immediately
followed, we read of frequent conferences between various Bohemian parties,
between Sigismund and the Bohemians, of communications with the council of
Basel, of contests as to modifications of opinion, and of formularies drawn up
with a view to peace. The national feeling was strongly displayed in the terms
which the Bohemians wished to prescribe to Sigismund as a condition of
receiving him for their king; and, not content with the compromise by which the
use of the Eucharist in both kinds had been allowed to such adult persons as
should desire it, they wished to enforce this manner of reception throughout
the kingdom, and insisted on the necessity of administering the sacrament to
infants.
In October 1435, Rokyczana was
elected archbishop of Prague by a body of persons chosen as representatives of
all classes. But Sigismund refused to confirm the election unless on terms to
which Rokyczana would not submit; and the discord became worse than before.
On the 5th of July 1436, the compactata were accepted by the
Bohemians in a great assembly at Iglau, where all estates of the kingdom
appeared in the presence of Sigismund, who was seated on a lofty throne in the
market-place. On the conclusion of the agreement, Philibert of Coutances, as
chief legate of the council of Basel, intoned the Te Deum; there were loud acclamations of joy from the multitude,
while Sigismund and many others expressed the same feeling by tears; and the
general rejoicing was displayed in bell-ringing, bonfires, and feasting. All
ecclesiastical censures were remitted, and the emperor agreed to accept
Rokyczana as archbishop of Prague. But on the following day, when a service of
thanksgiving was performed, the peace was again disturbed by Rokyczana’s
administering the communion in both kinds at an altar of a church where the
bishop of Coutances was at the same time celebrating mass in the usual Roman
fashion. This act, done in a building which did not belong to the utraquists,
was alleged to be in excess of the liberty allowed to them by the late
agreement, and fresh differences arose in consequence.
In the same month Sigismund, after a
formal negotiation, was accepted by the Bohemians as their king. But he was not
disposed to fulfil loyally some of the conditions which had been imposed on
him. He refused to confirm the election of Rokyczana unless he would submit to
the church in all things, including the question of the chalice. The bishop of
Coutances, who had been requested to remain while the other legates returned to
Basel, acted as administrator of the vacant see, performing the episcopal
functions and zealously exerting himself to re-establish the Roman system. The
old priests returned, and refused to give the sacrament to the laity except in
one kind; the canons were restored in the cathedral, and the orders of monks
and friars began to reappear. On the other hand, Rokyczana was reported to have
said that he would not accept institution from the legate, forasmuch as every
priest had the same authority with bishops. On both sides there were complaints
that the late agreement was not observed. Rokyczana, irritated at the course
which things were taking, denounced the monks in a sermon as devils, and talked
of shedding blood. On being informed of this, the emperor, who had been already
provoked against Rokyczana by other stories of violent language, and by
unfounded suggestions of treasonable designs, burst out into words which seemed
to threaten the preacher’s life; and Rokyczana for a time withdrew from Prague.
The council of Basel refused to
sanction the election of Rokyczana, whom it regarded as the author of the late
troubles; it also refused to allow the communion of infants, as being contrary
to the compactata, and the use of the
vernacular language in the epistles, gospels, and creed. But at the thirtieth
session a decree was passed by which, while it is declared that the faithful
laity, or clergy other than the consecrator, are not required by the Lord’s
command to receive the eucharistic cup; that under each kind Christ is contained
whole and entire, and that no one ought without the church’s sanction to change
the traditional custom of communicating in one kind only—the council yet allows
that the mode of administration is left to the church’s discretion, and that to
those who worthily communicate in either way, the sacrament is profitable for
salvation.
The death of Sigismund, in December
1437, left Bohemia in confusion. His endeavours to get Albert of Austria
elected as his successor had been fruitless; and when Albert was now chosen, on
condition that he should observe the articles of Prague, the compactata, and all Sigismund’s other
engagements, the more violent Hussites set up in opposition to him a boy of
thirteen—Casimir, brother of the king of Poland. Bohemia was invaded by a
Polish army, in concert with Casimir’s Bohemian supporters; but the battle of
Zelenic, in July 1438, established Albert on the throne. Within little more
than a year, however, the death of Albert plunged Bohemia into a long anarchy.
About four months later, the emperor-king’s widow gave birth to a son, who
received the name of Ladislaus. The Bohemians, unwilling to have an infant for
their sovereign, offered the crown to duke Albert of Bavaria and to the emperor
Frederick; but both declined it, and by Frederick’s advice the young Ladislaus
was acknowledged. After the death of the prince’s mother, in December 1442,
Frederick undertook to act as his guardian and as regent of the kingdom; but
Bohemia continued to be distracted by the rivalries of religious and political
factions. The breach between the council of Basel and the pope added to the
discords of the Bohemians. The chapter of Prague adhered to Eugenius, while
bishop Philibert was with the council, to which he owed his commission as
legate. The Bohemians were angry because the council had done nothing for the
vindication of their orthodoxy, and because Rokyczana and other elected
prelates were unable to obtain consecration. When Philibert had been carried
off by pestilence, in June 1439, the antipope Felix and the council nominated
Nicolas von der Leiter, a native of Prague, as archbishop; but he failed to
gain an entrance to the see. On the other hand, Rokyczana, although on the
death of Albert he returned to Prague and recovered his power, was unable to
obtain the pope’s acknowledgment as archbishop; and in his exasperation at
this, he behaved with great violence towards the partisans of Rome—even denying
them Christian burial.
At a meeting at Kuttenberg, in
October 1441, where about three hundred priests were present, Rokyczana
produced a confession of twenty-four articles. In this document the
administration of the eucharist in both kinds, the communion of infants, the
use of the vernacular language in divine service, and the lawfulness of
marriage for the clergy, were maintained; while at the same time it
acknowledged seven sacraments, transubstantiation, the elevation of the host,
and other points of Roman doctrine and ritual. In opposition to this, the Taborites
(who had refused to attend at Kuttenberg) produced at a conference in 1443 a
confession of fifteen articles, in which two sacraments only were acknowledged,
and they condemned the doctrine of purgatory and the use of images, with all
belief of a spiritual presence in the eucharistic elements, which they
regarded as mere signs, unentitled to any reverence. At this conference, which
was opened at Prague, and was afterwards continued at Kuttenberg, Przibram, who
had been reconciled with Rokyczana, vehemently attacked the Taborites, whose
opinions were more and more tending to what was styled picardism—a denial of
all sacramental grace. The conference (in which Nicolas the bishop and Coranda
were prominent on the Taborite side) was the last public disputation in which
the Taborites took part. The result of it was to disclose more clearly than
before the width of the difference between the parties. In the following year,
a diet at Prague declared for the eucharistic doctrine of Rokyczana and Przibram,
and rejected that of the Taborites, who found that their influence rapidly
sank. The towns which had been theirs gave themselves up, one by one, to clergy
of the Calixtine party, and a few years later the Taborite doctrine was
confined to Tabor itself.
As the council of Basel declined,
Eugenius rose higher in his pretensions. The French king had acknowledged him
in 1441, and in 1444 the alliance was cemented by the appointment of the
dauphin, Lewis, to be the standard bearer of the church. To the request of the
Germans that a new general council might be called, the pope answered that
there was no need of such an assembly, as a general council was already sitting
under his own presidency at Rome, to which he had translated it from Florence,
and to deny its authority was to attack the catholic faith. He offered, out of
complaisance to the emperor, to ask this venerable body whether a new council
were needed; but with the Germans he could settle nothing until they should
have given up their neutrality—a thing unknown to the faith of Christ.
It seemed as if a decided breach
were near; but Frederick hoped to come to an understanding with the pope by
means of a new agent whom he had lately taken into his service, Aeneas Sylvius
Piccolomini.
Aeneas Sylvius was born at
Corsignano, in 1405, of a Sienese family, which could trace its nobility to a
great antiquity, but had become grievously impoverished, so that in early life
he was obliged to take a share in the labours of the field. He had studied law
at Siena, but without becoming fond of it, as he preferred the classical
literature of Greece and Rome, in which the famous scholar Filelfo was his
teacher. He attended the council of Basel, at first as secretary to cardinal
Capranica, from whose service he afterwards passed into that of other masters.
He had been employed by the council in important affairs; among them was a
mission to Scotland, in the course of which he went through some adventures
which curiously illustrate the state of Great Britain in those days. He had
also cultivated literature, and had produced, among other things, a Latin tale
of adulterous intrigue, in which he has imitated the moral tone of Boccaccio
perhaps more successfully than his skill in narrative. His manner of life had
been lax; but he excused this on the plea that he was not yet in the higher
orders of the ministry.
At Basel his abilities, and his
determination to make his way by means of them, became conspicuous. After the
return of his last patron, cardinal Albergati, to Italy, his eloquence won for
him an important position in the council, and he displayed much zeal in its
cause and in that of the antipope Felix. His diplomatic skill was employed in
persuading the Hungarians to release Albert of Austria from an oath by which he
had pledged himself that he would not accept the empire. He became secretary
to the antipope, and in that character was sent to the emperor Frederick, who
flattered his literary vanity by the title of laureate, and invited him to
become his secretary. Having with difficulty obtained a release from the antipope’s
service, Aeneas accepted the office, and, professing to have overcome the
levities of his former years, he was now ordained as subdeacon, deacon, and
priest. In politics he became for a time a pupil of Caspar Schlick, one of the
most eminent men of the age, who filled the office of chancellor under three
successive emperors; and in no long time he found himself able to direct the
policy of Frederick.
In 1445 Aeneas was employed by
Frederick on an important mission to the pope. His enmity to Eugenius had been
notorious; and as he was believed with reason to be especially obnoxious at
Rome,—indeed, the pope had forbidden his approach,—his kinsmen at Siena entreated
him to venture no further. But Aeneas went on to Rome, and was able to gain an
interview with the pope, to whom he addressed himself very skilfully. He avowed
his past hostility to Eugenius, but pleaded ignorance as his excuse for an
offence in which he said he had shared with cardinal Cesarini, with the
archbishop of Palermo, and other eminent persons. He professed to have learnt
at the imperial court to take truer views than before, and to have welcomed his
mission to Rome as holding out a hope of reconciliation with the pope. He
entreated forgiveness, and at the same time intimated an opinion that his value
was such as to make it expedient to treat him with consideration. Eugenius saw
the importance of attaching to himself a man so able and so full of resources;
and, although he did not welcome the emperor’s request that he would summon a
council in some German city, he skilfully impressed on the envoy that his
position was one in which he might do much for the protection of the truth and
for the good of the church.
In the same year, Eugenius,
supposing himself to have nothing to fear from the emperor, issued orders for
the deposition of the archbishops of Treves and Cologne, who had taken part
with the council of Basel, and as electors of the empire had supported the
neutrality of Germany; and in their stead he nominated two ecclesiastics of
the Burgundian connexion. But instead of awing the Germans, this proceeding
against prelates so high in dignity, and so powerful both by their office and
by their family connexions, endangered his hold on Germany. The archbishops
kept possession of their sees, and in March 1446 met their brother-electors at
Frankfort, where a general spirit of defiance was manifested. The electors
declared that unless Eugenius would withdraw the deposition of the archbishops,
accept the decrees of Constance and Basel as to the authority of general
councils, and appoint a council to be held in some German city in the spring of
the following year, they would conclude that he wished to suppress for ever the
holding of general councils, and they would thereupon summon one by their own
authority, or join the party of the antipope. An oath of secrecy was taken as
to these terms; but the emperor, who had been informed of them without being
bound by an oath, disclosed them to his secretary, who saw in the circumstances
of the case an opportunity for exerting his political skill. The emperor had
told the envoys of the Frankfort meeting that he disapproved of the deposition
of the archbishops, but that the princes had done wrongly in assuming judgment
over the pope and in threatening to forsake him. He now sent Piccolomini and
others to the Roman court, with instructions to bring the pope, if possible, by
peaceful means to revoke the deposition.
Of the secretary’s colleagues in this
mission, the most remarkable was Gregory Heimburg, who is described as the most
eminent among the Germans for eloquence and legal learning—a man of fine
person, but rough in manner and careless of his appearance, whose sturdy German
patriotism regarded the Italians with dislike and contempt. The bearing of
Gregory, and the tone of his language in expressing the resolution of the
German princes to hold together in opposition to the papal assumptions, were
new to the Roman court; while in Gregory his acquaintance with that court
excited feelings of strong aversion and of injured national pride. But his more
politic Italian companion used his opportunities differently, and privately
assured the pope that, if he would reinstate the archbishops and would accept
the decree of Constance as to the regular assembling of general councils, all
Germany would abandon its neutrality. The pope, instead of giving the
ambassadors a reply, dismissed them with a promise that he would answer by
letter; and Piccolomini was followed in his return to Germany by an invitation
to become papal secretary.
At Ulm, Piccolomini joined Caspar
Schlick and others, who had been sent by the emperor to a meeting of the German
princes at Frankfort. The council of Basel had sent representatives, headed by
the cardinal of Arles, but the imperial ambassadors interfered to prevent the
cardinal from having his cross carried before him as legate, and from
pronouncing his benediction. On the pope’s side were Nicolas of Cusa and
Carvajal; but Thomas ot Sarzana, bishop of Bologna, who had been expected as
the chief representative of Eugenius, was unable to appear until later. Six of
the seven electors were resolved to declare for Felix, if Eugenius would not
consent to an agreement; but the emperor’s policy aimed at dividing the
electoral college.
The story of the late mission to
Rome was told by Gregory Heimburg, who, according to Aeneas Sylvius, reported
all the harsher part of the pope’s sayings, and left out all that was more
favourable. He represented Eugenius and the curia as irreconcilably hostile to
the Germans, and indulged in strong and telling sarcasms on the cardinals,
especially Bessarion, whom, on account of his beard, he spoke of as an old
he-goat. In order to correct the exaggerations of his colleague, Piccolomini
addressed the assembly; and when taunted with the inconsistencies of his past
career by the cardinal of Arles and another of the Basel party, he replied that
it was not he, but the council, that had changed. The secretary, however, did
not trust to his eloquence alone, but made large use of bribery in the
emperor’s interest; and, although the archbishop of Mayence was not to be
personally corrupted, a distribution of 2000 florins among his counsellors
proved effectual. The archbishop expressed to Piccolomini the difficulties
which he felt as to the manner of withdrawing from his engagements with the
prelates of Treves and Cologne and with other electors; whereupon Piccolomini
took the statement of terms which had been drawn up on the part of the
electors, and by “squeezing out all the venom” (as he expresses it) skilfully
reduced them to such a form that they might give no offence to the pope, while
they might yet be subscribed by the electors as expressing their intentions.
The document thus ingeniously altered was readily accepted by the majority of
the electors, while the duke of Saxony, the archbishop of Treves, and the
archbishop of Cologne, although dissatisfied, made no opposition.
On reaching Rome with these
proposals, the German ambassadors found that the clergy of the papal court were
against them. It was said that the church was sold, that the Romans were led,
like buffaloes, by a ring through the nose. The cardinals in general (although
profuse in their hospitalities to the strangers) objected to the sacrifice of
annates and of patronage of ecclesiastical dignities, and to the scheme for
assembling general councils at regular intervals. The pope, they said, ought to
be rich and powerful, in order that he may be able to protect prelates, to make
peace between princes, to combat unbelief, and to extirpate heresy; there had
never been so many heresies as in the time before Sylvester, because then the
papacy was poor, and therefore disregarded. To this the Germans replied that they
did not wish to reduce the pope to poverty, but to provide for him by less
objectionable means; and Eugenius found it necessary to overpower the
opposition of the cardinals by threatening to add to their body. Four new
cardinals were actually created—among them, Thomas of Sarzana, bishop of
Bologna, and John Carvajal, a Spaniard, who had been among the pope’s chief
agents in the late negotiations.
In the meantime the state of the
pope’s health, which had long been weak, became so alarming that the ambassadors
hesitated to treat with him in the condition to which he was reduced. But
Piccolomini urged on his colleagues that their obedience should be professed to
Eugenius, as another pope might be less favourable, and even a new schism might
break out; and John of Lysura said that it would be enough if there were life
in the smallest toe of the pope’s left foot, although all his other members
were dead. The ambassadors were admitted to his bedchamber, where they found
him still wearing an air of dignity, but evidently dying. The terms were agreed
on—chiefly that the pope should accept the decrees of Constance in general, and
especially that which related to the assembling of general councils; that he
should sanction such of the Basel decrees as had been accepted by the Germans
under the emperor Albert, until a legate who was to be sent into Germany should
be able to make other arrangements; that the archbishops of Cologne and Treves
should be reinstated on acknowledging Eugenius as the true vicar of Christ; and
that all who had taken part in the proceedings of Basel should be forgiven on
submission. On these terms the Germans consented to give up their neutrality,
and adhered to Eugenius; they undertook that the emperor should withdraw his
safe-conduct from the council of Basel, and should bring other potentates to do
the like.
The result of the negotiations was
proclaimed at a great public assembly, and there were demonstrations of joy
such as were usual for the celebration of an important victory. Rome enjoyed a
general holiday; bells were rung, bonfires blazed, music resounded about the
streets, relics of especial sanctity were displayed; the mitre said to have
been given by Constantine to Sylvester, which Eugenius had lately acquired, was
carried in procession from St. Mark’s to the Lateran, and at night there was a
brilliant illumination. But on the day after the conclusion of the peace the
pope’s illness increased. He had executed four bulls for the purpose of
carrying out the agreement; and by a fifth, which was grounded on the
impossibility of fully considering all things in his sickness, he declared that
nothing in the agreement should infringe on the privileges of the church.
It is said that Eugenius, in
reliance on a prophecy made to him in early life by a mysterious hermit,
believed that the end of his papacy was at hand; but he resolutely held out
against the approach of death, and when the last sacraments were offered to him
by Antoninus, archbishop of Florence, he said that the time was not yet come,
and that he would give notice when it arrived. He took leave of the cardinals
in a long speech, expressing satisfaction at the reconciliation of the church,
and urging that the work should be carried out. The safety of the church, he
said, would depend on their agreement among themselves. But when asked to
recall the cardinal of Capua, whom he had banished, he refused : “Ye know not
what ye ask; it is best for you that ye should be without him, and for him that
he should be in exile.” One of the pope’s chamberlains, who has left an account
of his last hours, speaks much of the humility and penitence which he
displayed. Among his latest sayings was the expression of a regret that,
instead of becoming cardinal and pope, he had not died in the safer condition
of a simple monk. His death took place on the 23rd of February 1447, sixteen
days after the conclusion of his agreement with the Germans.
CHAPTER III.
FROM THE
ELECTION OF POPE NICOLAS V TO THE DEATH OF PAUL II.
A.C. 1447-1471.
Eugenius, a few days before his death, had
decreed that the regulations of the council of Basel as to the choice of a pope
should be of no effect, but that the election should be conducted according to
the laws enacted by Gregory X at the council of Lyons and by Clement V at the
council of Vienne. In accordance with this decree, the cardinals met in
conclave at the church of St. Mary sopra Minerva, on the 4th of March. But
before that meeting an attempt to effect a revolution in the government of Rome
had been made by Stephen Porcaro, a man of much literary culture, eloquent,
popular, and connected by familiar friendship and correspondence with some of
the most eminent among his contemporaries. Porcaro’s mind had been inflamed by
his classical studies with an enthusiastic desire for the restoration of the
ancient republican government. He disdained the career of public office, in
which he had held honourable employments under the last two popes; and, not
content with the respectable dignity of a knightly pedigree, he affected to
trace his descent up to the ancient Roman Porcii. Believing that the
opportunity for action had come, he addressed the common council of the people
when it was assembled in the church of Ara Coeli, after the death of Eugenius,
denouncing in vehement language the indignity and disgrace that the children
of the Scipios should submit to the yoke of priestly dominion. But, although
there were some who would gladly have acted on such words, others recalled to
memory the anarchy which had followed on the expulsion of Eugenius, and the
citizens were held in check by the fear of Alfonso of Naples, who had occupied
Tivoli and other places in the neighbourhood, and had assured the cardinals of
his protection and assistance in case of need. The business of the conclave was
therefore allowed to proceed, under the guardianship of the ambassadors of
certain princes—amongst whom Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini appeared as representing
the emperor.
The names of Capranica, Carvajal,
and Prosper Colonna were brought forward, and on the afternoon of the third day
it seemed as if Colonna were likely to be elected by the method which is termed access. The bishop of Bologna was
about to vote for him, when his own name (for which some votes had been given
in the morning) was suggested by the archbishop of Taranto; and it was accepted
by all as that of the only one among the cardinals who was not obnoxious to any
party.
The new pope, Thomas Parentuccelli,
was the son of a physician, and was born in 1398 at Pisa, although he was
commonly styled after his mother’s birthplace, Sarzana. He had studied at
Bologna, and had acquired such a reputation that Aeneas Sylvius speaks of his
knowledge as universal, and declares that whatever was hidden from him must be
beyond the knowledge of man. Having early lost his father, and having been
unkindly treated by his stepfather, he had in his youth been compelled to
struggle with difficulties. But he was drawn forth from obscurity by the
patronage of cardinal Albergati, in whose household he spent twenty years; he
had distinguished himself in disputation with the Greeks at Ferrara and at
Florence; he had been employed in important missions, such as that which was
sent into Germany for the purpose of breaking up the league of the electors; and
within eighteen months he had become bishop, cardinal, and pope. In grateful
remembrance of his patron, Nicolas Albergati, he took the name of Nicolas V.
Nicolas is described as a man of
small and spare person, as affable and unassuming, quick in temper but easily
pacified; as sparing of expense on himself, but liberal to others, and
munificent in his encouragement of literature and art. Aeneas Sylvius blames
him for too great confidence in his own judgment, and for disregard of the
opinion of others. Although moderate in his general policy, he was zealous for
the interests of the Roman see, and was bent on recovering for it, if possible,
the privileges which had been assailed by the councils of Constance and Basel.
When asked by Piccolomini to confirm the agreement which his predecessor had
made with the Germans, he expressed himself with moderation and good sense—that
the bishops of Rome appeared to him to have extended the borders of their
garments too far, by leaving no jurisdiction to other bishops; while, on the
other side, the council of Basel had too much shortened the pope’s hands; that,
for himself, he did not intend to deprive the bishops of their rights, but
trusted that respect for the rights of others would be found the best means for
the preservation of his own.
Piccolomini, on whom Eugenius had
intended to bestow the bishopric of Trieste, received this reward of his
labours from Nicolas, and returned to Germany, carrying with him a written
confirmation of the late agreement, and resolved to work out the pope’s design.
In June 1447 a meeting was held at
Bourges, where Charles of France presided, and the archbishop of Treves
represented his brother electors of Cologne, the Palatinate, and Saxony. It was
agreed between the French and the Germans that no regard should be paid to the
authority of either the council of Basel or that of the Lateran, although it
was explained that by this nothing was intended against the observance of such
decrees as had been accepted either in France or in the empire; that the king
should urge the dissolution of both assemblies, and should request pope
Nicolas to summon a new council for the following year, in compliance with the
decree of Constance.
In July a diet was assembled at
Aschaffenburg, where cardinal Carvajal appeared as legate, while Piccolomini
acted at once as a servant of the emperor and of the pope. The question of a
provision for the pope, which had been proposed at the council of Basel, was adjourned
for discussion until the next diet, unless in the meantime it should have been
settled by an agreement with the legate; and Carvajal took advantage of the
interval to procure the emperor’s assent to a scheme which was greatly in
favour of Rome. Instead of receiving a compensation, the pope was to resume the
practices of annates and reservation, on terms almost the same which had been
allowed by the council of Constance, except that, instead of the alternate
patronage of certain dignities, he was to have the presentation to such as
should fall vacant in the alternate months of the year. By this concordat, the acceptata of Mayence were set aside, and
Germany became again subject to those burdens against which she had for thirty
years been struggling, and from which she had for a time appeared to have
gained a deliverance. This triumph of the papacy was chiefly due to the art of
Piccolomini, who not only swayed the mind of Frederick, but, by an unscrupulous
use of bribery in the form of privileges, patronage, exemptions, and the like,
induced the reluctant electors to sacrifice the interests of the national
church to their own private advantage.
Nicolas in the end of 1447
proclaimed a crusade against the antipope, and authorized the French king to
seize his territories. But such measures were happily not needed in order to
the extinction of the schism. The submission of the Germans to Eugenius and his
successor involved an abandonment of the council of Basel. The emperor,
therefore, signified to that assembly that he withdrew his protection from it,
and charged the citizens of Basel, under penalty of the ban of the empire, to
harbour it no longer. By this the remaining members found themselves obliged to
join the antipope at Lausanne; and at a meeting held at Lyons, between cardinal
Allemand, as president of the council, and envoys from the kings of France,
England, and other princes, it was agreed that Felix should submit to his
rival. The antipope, whose supporters had fallen away from him until he found
himself acknowledged only in his own duchy of Savoy, declared to the remnant of
the council that, for the sake of the church’s peace, he resigned his dignity;
the eight cardinals of Felix’s party then affected to choose Thomas of Sarzana
to the papacy; and the assembly, after having lasted nearly eighteen years, formally
dissolved itself. By a wise moderation on the part of Nicolas, all the
sentences of Eugenius against the council were revoked. Amadeus was made
cardinal-bishop of Sabina, with the first place in the sacred college, and a
commission as legate for Savoy and Piedmont; and his adherents were allowed to
retain their dignities. The most prominent of these adherents, cardinal
Allemand, not only continued to enjoy the archbishopric of Arles, but was able
so entirely to atone for his offences against the papacy that he eventually
received the honour of beatification from pope Clement VII. Amadeus himself
returned to the cheerful seclusion of Ripaille, where he died in 1450 or the
following year.
In his political conduct, and
especially with regard to the other Italian powers, Nicolas showed himself
sincerely desirous of peace; nor did he allow himself to be entangled in a
contest for the duchy of Milan, which became vacant by the death of the last
Visconti, Philip Mary, in 1447. Philip Mary had bequeathed his power to Alfonso
of Naples; but the emperor claimed the duchy as a fief, which had lapsed to the
empire through the extinction of the Visconti; while Charles of Orleans
advanced pretensions which were supported by the king of France, and the
Milanese themselves favoured Francis Sforza, a condottiere, who had married an
illegitimate daughter of the late duke, but had alienated the jealous nature of
Philip Mary by the growth of his power and renown. A war of two years and a
half was concluded in February 1450 by a peace which established Sforza in
possession of the duchy.
Throughout his earlier life, Nicolas
had been distinguished by his love of literature; and his elevation enabled
him to foster by the authority and by the wealth of the papacy the studies to
which he was devoted. The time was one of extraordinary intellectual movement.
Already men of letters were held in high consideration by the princes of Italy,
who were proud to entertain them at their courts, and in some cases endeavoured
to acquire for themselves the reputation of learning and mental
accomplishments; and, under the republican government of Florence, they found
such encouragement from the chief families (among which the Medici were now
rising into pre-eminence) as to make that city the headquarters of the
literary revival. Nicolas himself had lived there in the train of pope
Eugenius, and had been intimate with the most eminent scholars. His own
patronage of literature, as has been remarked, was not the condescension of a
prince, but showed the interest of a genuine lover of books. He invited men of
learning to settle at Rome; he collected manuscripts wherever they could be
found; even the great calamity which in his pontificate befell Christendom
through the Turkish conquest of Constantinople was turned to advantage in this
respect, as fugitive scholars brought with them to Italy such books as each
could rescue, and Nicolas employed agents to search in Greece for remains of
ancient literature. The study of Greek, which had been revived in the preceding
century, became now so popular in Italy, that even ladies of high rank are said
to have been able to discourse in that tongue. Plato was introduced into the
west by Gemisthius Pletho, and disputed the supremacy which Aristotle had long
held in the schools. In the western countries, too, manuscripts which had
lurked in monastic or other libraries were now brought to light, and revealed
writings of classical authors which had been unknown for centuries. Through the
works of Cicero and Quintilian the power of oratory rose into such estimation
that Nicolas himself is even said to have partly owed his election to the
admiration excited by his funeral discourse over his predecessor.
Under Nicolas the scanty library of
the popes, which had accompanied them to Avignon and had thence been brought
back to Rome (although not without considerable losses), was lodged in the
Vatican, and was increased by 5000 manuscripts. The pope employed a large
number of copyists in the multiplication of books— a work in which such labour
was soon to be superseded by the art of printing, which at this very time
produced its first-fruits. He engaged scholars of reputation to translate into
Latin the writings of Greek classics and fathers; and a new version of the
whole Bible, from the original tongues, was projected and partly executed.
Among the most eminent scholars of
the age was Laurence Valla, born at Rome in 1406. About the year 1440, Valla
produced his treatise on the ‘Donation of Constantine,’ a masterly exposure of
the forgery which, although not without occasional question, had been generally
received for centuries. But Rome was no safe place for the author of such a
work; and Valla secretly withdrew to Naples, where his critical spirit was
exercised on the pretended correspondence of the Saviour with Abgarus, and on
the common belief that the creed which takes its name from the apostles was
formed by the contribution of an article by each of the twelve. For these
writings he was arrested by the Inquisition, was condemned as a heretic, and
would have been burnt, but for the intercession of king Alfonso. His
entreaties that he might be allowed to return to Rome were disregarded by
Eugenius; but Nicolas invited him, made him his own secretary, and furnished
him with literary employment. To this employment Valla probably owed his
preservation from sharing in fatal revolutionary schemes which might have been
likely to enlist his sympathy; for, after having shown the worthlessness of the
foundation on which the temporal power of the papacy had been made to rest, he
had gone on to argue that no pretence of prescription could be admitted in
behalf of that power, to exhort the Romans to rise against it, and to advise
the popes themselves to abandon it. Valla was promoted by Calixtus III to a
canonry of the Lateran church, and died in 1465.
Of the Greeks, Bessarion was
distinguished above the rest, not only by his fame as a scholar, but by the dignities
of cardinal and titular patriarch of Constantinople. He had acquired a perfect
command of the Latin language, and had been able to adapt himself to the
manners of his new society. For a time he administered the government of
Bologna as legate with great success; he was employed on important missions,
and at more than one election appeared likely to be chosen pope. He lived in
splendour and bounty, and was regarded as the patron of the Greeks who had
settled at Rome. His house was full of scholars, partly his own countrymen, and
partly Latins who cultivated Greek literature; and, like Nicolas, he was a
zealous collector of manuscripts, of which he bestowed a precious collection on
the doge and senate of Venice.
The character of the new literary
class in general was not without serious defects. They were too often without
dignity or self-respect, indifferent to public interests, willing to bask in
the patronage alike of popes, of republics, or of the princes who held in Italy
a position like that of the ancient Greek tyrants; and they were always ready
for the sake of advantage to transfer themselves from one patron to another.
They were vain, greedy, quarrelsome, bitter in their mutual jealousies and
envies, unsteady, unthrifty; and with their study of the classics they not
uncommonly combined the morality of ancient paganism. Nor even in respect of
literary value can their works claim the praise of originality; the minds of
these scholars were exercised in the illustration and imitation of the
ancients, without being able to produce anything of independent merit. And
little did Nicolas and the other ecclesiastical patrons of the classical
revival suspect that its results would be, on the one hand, to paganize the
church, and, on the other hand, to produce a rebellion against its authority.
Nicolas was bent on renewing the
splendour of his city. The whole of the Vatican quarter was to be rebuilt
according to one grand plan, and in a style of unexampled magnificence. The
venerable basilica of St. Peter, founded by the first Christian emperor, was to
make room for a new structure, to be designed in the form of a Greek cross, and
surmounted by a soaring cupola; and the work was begun by removing the ancient
sepulchral chapel of Probus, at the further end of the church, in order to the
erection of a new tribune, which had risen only a few feet above the ground at
the time of the pope’s death and was destined to be superseded by a yet more
magnificent structure in the following century. Around the great church were to
be grouped a palace, churches, convents, and a library, with porticoes,
gardens, and a cemetery; and the rebuilding of the palace was commenced. The
Pantheon was restored from a ruinous condition, and the destruction of ancient
Roman monuments was checked. Many other churches of the city were restored;
much was spent on repairs of the walls and on new fortifications of the Vatican
quarter, with a view to protecting the popes against such tumults as that by
which Eugenius had been driven from Rome; and in many provincial towns—such as
Orvieto, Viterbo, Fabriano, Spoleto, and Assisi—the short pontificate of
Nicolas was marked by the erection of new and splendid public buildings. To him
is also ascribed the introduction of a magnificence before unknown into the
services of the church. Gold and silver plate in profusion, jewelled mitres,
vestments, altar-coverings, and curtains inwoven with gold, attested the
munificence of the pope and the sumptuousness of his taste.
The arts of painting and sculpture,
as well as that of architecture, enjoyed the patronage of Nicolas. Under him
the saintly Dominican John of Fiesole, styled Angelico, who had been invited to
Rome in 1445 by Eugenius, adorned the new chapel of St. Laurence in the
Vatican. But both literature and art were exotics at Rome, where the love of
antiquity rarely took any other form than that of political republicanism. With
the exception of Valla, no native Roman became prominent among the scholars of
the time; the painters, the sculptors, the architects were brought from
Florence; and while they found patrons in the popes and the cardinals, they met
with no encouragement from the Roman nobles.
An attempt had been made in 1423 to
celebrate a jubilee according to the calculation of thirty-three years, as that
interval had elapsed since the first jubilee of Boniface IX. in 1390. This
attempt, according to the expression of a chronicler, was “neither forbidden
nor authorized” by Martin V, and it proved a failure. But in the pontificate of
Nicolas, the term of half a century since the jubilee of 1400 was completed,
and the pope took measures for celebrating the festival with the fullest
effect. By some powerful persons, indeed, the pilgrimage was discouraged. Duke
Henry of Bavaria told his people that forgiveness might be had of God in all
places alike. The Teutonic knights of North Germany, wishing to prevent their
subjects from taking a long journey which might have been hurtful to the
interests of the brotherhood, refused to publish the bull for the jubilee; but
they were afterwards glad to appease the pope’s anger by a present of a
thousand ducats, in order that the indulgences of the jubilee might be
dispensed by their own clergy to those who should give certain alms and perform
certain devotional exercises in their own country. The unwonted security of the
ways induced multitudes to flock to Rome, so that no jubilee since the first
(that of the year 1300) had been so crowded or so brilliant. The pilgrims are
compared to flights of starlings, to heaps of bees or ants, to the sand of the
sea-shore; and such was the pressure one day on the bridge of St. Angelo, when
the stoppage of a mule caused a confusion between those who were rushing to the
display of the Veronica in St. Peter’s and those who were returning from it,
that about two hundred were crushed to death, or forced into the Tiber and
drowned.
The privileges of the jubilee were
continued for some time after the end of the year, and the cardinal of Cusa was
sent to dispense such graces in Germany. But, although he discharged this
function with much success, it would seem that his own belief in their efficacy
was not enthusiastic; for, on being asked whether a monk might go on pilgrimage
without the leave of his abbot, he quoted pope Nicolas himself for the opinion
that obedience is better than indulgences.
The wealth which the pope received
through the jubilee contributed largely to support the cost of his buildings
and of his encouragement of learning and of the arts. But at the very time when
so vast a concourse was drawn towards Rome, a plague, which had raged with great
violence in the north of Italy, reached the capital; and with the growing heat
of the weather its virulence increased. Soon after midsummer, the pope
withdrew, and with a party of scholars, in whose society he delighted, he shut
himself up in one castle after another until the danger was over.
In 1452 Rome witnessed for the last
time the coronation of an emperor. Frederick, whose territory and wealth were
ill equal to the support of his great dignity, imagined that his authority
might be enhanced by receiving the imperial crown according to the traditional
usage, and, leaving disaffection and conspiracy behind him, he crossed the Alps
with a small force. The cost of the expedition was in part supplied by the
pope, in consideration of the advantage which he had gained by the Vienna
concordats The days were past when the visit of an emperor was formidable to
the Italians : “all before him”, says a contemporary writer, “had made some
attempt to recover power; he was the first who gave up the hope.” Everywhere
Frederick was received with honour, and was entertained at the expense of the
cities through which he passed. He did not disdain to ask for safe-conducts
from the local authorities; nor to gain some money by bestowing
privileges of various kinds,—such as the dignities of count and knight, and
even the degree of doctor or the office of notary. From an unwillingness to
acknowledge Sforza, by whom he had been baffled as to the duchy of Milan, he
declined his invitation to that city, alleging as his excuse the plague which
had lately raged. The pope, who had been alarmed by prophecies and rumours, and
by the remembrance of former troubles, had endeavoured to delay the emperor’s
visit, but his objections had been overcome by the skill of Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini,
who had just been promoted to the bishopric of Siena; and Nicolas contented
himself with providing against any danger from the Germans by strengthening the
fortifications and the garrison of Rome. At Florence two cardinals appeared
with the announcement that all was ready for the coronation, and required that
Frederick, before entering the territory of St. Peter, should take an oath to
the pope, which they represented to be prescribed by the Clementines, and by
ancient custom. To this he truly replied that the oath had not been taken by
Henry VII, that it was no older than the time of Charles IV, and that therefore
the Clementine decree was of no force; yet he submitted to it at Siena, and
bound himself by a second oath before entering the gates of Rome. At Siena the
emperor was met by his intended bride, the princess Leonora of Portugal, who
had been conducted from her landing in Italy by Piccolomini. On their arrival
at Rome, Frederick was lodged in the Lateran palace, and thus had the opportunity
for frequent confidential conversations with the pope by night. On the 16th of
March the nuptials took place, and Frederick was crowned as king of Italy,
although not with the ancient Lombard crown, but with that of Germany, which
had been brought from Aix-la-Chapelle. And on the 18th, the anniversary of the
pope’s own coronation, the imperial coronation was solemnized with a
ceremonial which is minutely described by the chroniclers of the time. The
emperor swore once more to support the Roman church, and, according to the
traditional usage, he performed the “office of a groom” by leading the pope’s
horse a few steps.
After a short visit to king Alfonso
at Naples, where he was received with great magnificence, Frederick again spent
three days at Rome; but whereas he and the Germans had pressed for a general
council, to be held in Germany, he now allowed himself to be drawn into asking,
by means of a long and eloquent speech delivered by Piccolomini before the
cardinals, that a crusade might be undertaken. To this Nicolas, who well knew
the emperor’s unfitness for the command of such an expedition, replied that he
strongly desired a crusade, but that the other powers of Christendom must be
consulted before anything could be determined.
Frederick, on his return to Germany,
found that his coronation had not procured him any additional power. The
Hungarians and Bohemians urged him to give up to them the young Ladislaus, whom
he had carried with him to Italy, where attempts had been made to rescue the
prince from his guardianship; and although the pope threatened them with
excommunication, they extorted the surrender of their sovereign by force of
arms.
The attempt of Stephen Porcaro to
effect a revolution at Rome after the death of Eugenius IV has already been
related. Nicolas, in accordance with his usual policy of conciliation, and in
the hope of gaining this man, appointed him podestà of Anagni; but Porcaro’s
restless spirit led him back to Rome, where, at the celebration of a popular
festival, he again endeavoured to excite the multitude to throw off the papal
yoke. In consequence of this he was banished to Bologna, where a liberal
allowance was provided for him, but with the condition that he should every day
present himself before the cardinal-legate Bessarion. By such restraint his
republican zeal and his hatred of the hierarchical government were
exasperated; he was in the habit of declaiming, with an application to
himself, the famous verses in which Petrarch had been supposed to have
stimulated the energies of Rienzi. By correspondence with his relations and
friends at Rome, he organized a conspiracy, which was to be carried out on the
Epiphany, 1453, by forcing a way into the Vatican and setting the palace on
fire, surprising the pope and cardinals while engaged in a solemn mass, and
carrying off Nicolas, to be used as a hostage in order to obtain possession of
the fortress of St. Angelo; after which a republic was to be established, with
Porcaro at its head as tribune.
A few days before the time appointed,
Porcaro, having excused himself under the plea of sickness from waiting on the
legate as usual, made his escape from Bologna and joined his accomplices in
Rome. But his absence was speedily discovered and reported to the papal
government, while some of the conspirators also betrayed the design. Porcaro
was arrested, and, after having in vain begged that he might be allowed to
address the people, whom he expected to rise for his deliverance, he was hanged
by night from a tower of the castle of St. Angelo. Many of his kinsmen and confederates—some of them brought from
distant cities, where they had sought a refuge—were also put to death; and in
order to suppress utterly the spirit which had projected the late plot,
cruelty, and even treachery, were employed. Nicolas, deeply mortified by the
ingratitude of the Romans, among whom much sympathy was displayed towards
Porcaro and his associates, and perhaps affected by remorse for the late
excesses of severity, became from this time reserved, melancholy, and
distrustful. From having been accustomed to show himself familiarly in public,
he rarely appeared, and was difficult of access; the gout, from which he had
suffered since the time of his election, became more acute and was complicated
by other disorders; and he sank into a rapid decay. To those who were admitted
into his confidence he deplored the insincerity of men, declared himself to be
miserable in his great dignity, and expressed a vain wish that he could again
become Master Thomas of Sarzana.
Within a few months after the
conspiracy of the Porcari, tidings of an overwhelming calamity were received
from the east. The emperor John Palaeologus, alarmed by the discontent of his
subjects, and finding little benefit from the alliance with the Latins which had
been purchased by the concessions of Florence, had in his last years renounced
the union of the churches. But his son and successor, Constantine, under the
pressure of increased danger from the Turks, under Mahomet, the son of Amurath
II, had again turned in supplication to the west, professing repentance, and
offering to return to communion with the Roman church. The pope, after
reproving the Greeks for their breach of engagements, expressed his willingness
to receive them once more, and prepared to send some galleys to their
assistance, while cardinal Isidore, himself a Greek, and formerly metropolitan
of Russia, was commissioned to carry out the reconciliation. But although
Isidore found some ecclesiastics and the higher laity ready to comply, the reunion
was viewed with abhorrence by the great body of the clergy, and yet more
strongly by the monks and female recluses; while the common people in the
taverns uttered curses against it, and drank to the image of the blessed
Virgin, imploring her aid against the Turks, and rejecting that of the Latins.
And when, after the decrees of Florence had again been signed, a solemn
thanksgiving was celebrated in St. Sophia’s, the more rigid of the Greeks,
disgusted by the introduction of Latin peculiarities into the service, avoided
the great church as if it were contaminated, “like a Jewish synagogue”. It was
in vain that the more courtly party pleaded that their compliances were
insincere, and were intended to last only until their country should have been
delivered by the help of the Latins. The Greeks in general abjured the pope and
his communion; and during the following Lent the clergy in the confessionals
excited their penitents to oppose the union, and to refuse the sacraments and
other rites at the hands of any who favoured it. So violent was the feeling
against the Latins, that a great official declared that he would rather see a
Turkish turban than a cardinal’s hat in Constantinople.
Meanwhile Mahomet pressed more and
more closely on the city, and on the 6th of April 1453 laid formal siege to it.
The emperor, in his extremity, was obliged to despoil the churches of their
treasures for the payment of his foreign auxiliaries, with the promise of
fourfold restoration: but the end was at hand. On the 29th of May—a day which
had been determined by astrological calculations—the final assault was made,
and the capital of eastern Christendom became the prey of the victorious Turks.
The body of the emperor, who in his last days had displayed heroic qualities,
was, after a long search, found beneath a heap of dead. Isidore, who for a time
was supposed to have perished, escaped in disguise, and, after many adventures,
was able to reach Italy in safety. Spoliation, destruction, profanity, far
exceeding the outrages which had disgraced the Latin conquest of
Constantinople, were committed, but might in the comparison have pleaded the
excuse that the actors were not professedly Christians. The treasures of Greek
learning were destroyed or dispersed; St. Sophia’s, after having been the scene
of gross profanations, was turned into a mosque; monasteries were given over to
dervishes or to workmen of low occupations; the patriarch, George Scholaris (or
Gennadius), who had retired to a monastery, but had continued to be the oracle
of the party opposed to Rome, was chosen anew by some representatives of the
Christian community, under an order of the sultan; and the churches of the city
were shared between the Christians and the Mussulman conquerors, until this
countenance of the subject religion was ended sixty years later by sultan
Selim.
Among the sovereigns of the west,
divided as they were by their own differences, and little interested in the
Greeks, the loss of Constantinople failed to produce such a feeling as had been
aroused by similar calamities in former days. The emperor Frederick wept, and
again expressed his wish for a crusade; but he took no active measures. Philip,
duke of Burgundy, who in power, wealth, and splendour was among the foremost
princes of Europe, alone manifested a stronger zeal. At a great festival, held
at Lille, a lady representing the church appeared before his court, seated on
an elephant led by a giant, and in a versified speech entreated assistance.
The herald of the Golden Fleece then brought in a live pheasant, richly adorned
with jewels. The duke delivered to him a paper containing a vow “to God, the
blessed Virgin, the ladies, and the pheasant”, that he would succour the
church in her distress; and he was followed by his son Charles, count of Charolois,
by the duke of Cleves, and a multitude of nobles and knights, who all in like
form pledged themselves to the holy enterprise. But instead of carrying out
this vow as he had intended, the duke found himself obliged, in consequence of
the enormous cost of the Lille festivities, to break up his household for a
time, and to travel in Germany and Switzerland, where he still endeavoured to
promote the cause of the crusade.
To Nicolas the loss of
Constantinople appeared in all its importance. Not only had the Byzantine
empire fallen, but its ruin drew after it that of many lesser Christian
principalities in the east; and the insatiable ambition of Mahomet seemed to
design nothing less than a conquest of all Christendom. In the end of
September 1453, the pope sent forth a bull, in which he declared the founder of
Islam to be the great red dragon of the Apocalypse, and, after dwelling on the
conquest of Constantinople by Mahomet II and his designs against western
Christendom, he exhorts all princes,, by the remembrance of their baptismal and
coronation vows, to take arms in behalf of the faith. Indulgences are promised,
both for personal service and to those who should furnish soldiers. The pope
binds himself to devote to the cause all the payments which he should receive
for institution to sees and other benefices; he requires a tenth from the
clergy, and he charges the Christian world to maintain peace within itself. But
the popes could not now rouse all Europe for a war against the infidels, as at
an earlier time.
Piccolomini was employed to stir up
the princes of Germany, while John of Capistrano, an Observant friar, whose
eloquence was unequalled among his contemporaries in its sway over the popular
heart, was sent into the same country as a preacher of the new crusade. But
although Aeneas Sylvius employed his powers of persuasion in diets at Ratisbon
(where Philip of Burgundy appeared) at Frankfort, and at Neustadt, he found
that the Germans were animated by a feeling of distrust, which arose out of the
late sacrifice of their ecclesiastical liberties. It was supposed that the pope
intended, under pretext of the crusade, to get money for himself; and
reproaches were cast on Nicolas for having spent large sums on needless
fortifications, while he allowed the capital of the east to fall into the hands
of the infidels. But Piccolomini represents himself as so far successful, that
the diet of Frankfort, in October 1454, promised to raise 10,000 horse and
32,000 foot for a crusade in Hungary.
The death of Nicolas, which took
place on the 24th of March 1455, for a time checked these attempts. In his last
hours he called around him the cardinals, and took leave of them in a long
address, recounting the chief events of his papacy, his acts, and his designs.
He dwelt on the authority of the Roman see, he exhorted them to love and
maintain the church, and, after bestowing his blessing on them, he expired.
Fifteen out of the twenty cardinals
met for the election of a successor. It seemed as if Bessarion were about to
be pope; but some members of the college, who felt his strictness of character
as a reproach of their own laxity, objected that it would be a reflection on
the Latin church if they should elect a Greek neophyte, who had not yet shaved
off his beard; and the choice April 8, fell, by way of access, on Alfonso Borja
or Borgia, a native of Valencia, who took the name of Calixtus III.
Borgia had been a student and a
professor in the Spanish university of Lerida, and was esteemed the greatest
jurist of his time. Even when pope, he retained in his mind all the details of
ecclesiastical and civil law, and took pleasure in answering legal questions.
He had received preferment from his countryman Benedict XIII., and was
afterwards employed by Alfonso of Aragon in negotiating for the extinction of
the schism which Benedict had attempted to perpetuate. For this service Martin
V rewarded him with the bishopric of his native city. He became Alfonso’s most
trusted counsellor; and, having been sent by him to Eugenius IV, while resident
at Florence, he was induced by Eugenius to attach himself to the papal court,
and was raised by him to the dignity of cardinal. Perhaps his advanced
age—seventy-seven—may have contributed to promote his elevation to the papacy.
Calixtus despised the elegant and
costly tastes of his predecessor, whom he openly blamed for having spent on
manuscripts and ornamental things the money which might have been employed in a
war against the Turks. Buildings which Nicolas had begun were suspended, and the
materials which had been collected for them were dispersed. To the holy war
Calixtus devoted himself with a zeal which was second only to his regard for
the interest of his family. Immediately on his election he recorded a solemn
vow to employ all possible weapons, spiritual and temporal, against the Turks.
He sent forth a bull, summoning the nations of the west to serve for half a
year from the 1st of March i456. Every day at noon the bells of all churches
were to be rung, and all Christians were at the sound to pray for the success
of the crusade. He freely spent the treasures which Nicolas, notwithstanding
his munificent expenditure, had left in the papal coffers. He even alienated
jewels and other church property for the purpose of aiding the crusade. He
entered into correspondence with the oriental enemies of the Turks, in order
to secure their co-operation. He equipped a fleet against the enemy, and sent
aid to Scanderbeg, the chief who for a quarter of a century kept up an
incessant warfare against the Turks among the mountains of Albania. Legates
were sent into all countries, to appease the quarrels of Christian princes and
to animate them for the holy war, while hosts of friars were commissioned to
carry out a like work among the people.
In this John of Capistrano
especially distinguished himself. The Turks, under Mahomet, laid siege to Belgrade;
but there they encountered the valour and conduct of John Huniades, and John of
Capistrano, by his eloquence, collected a force of 40,000 for the defence.
These were, indeed, an undisciplined and rudely-armed multitude, as the nobles,
with very few exceptions, held aloof from the enterprise; but the generalship
of Huniades and the exhortations and prayers of the friar, controlled and
animated them; and after a siege of forty-six days the Turks were driven off
with great loss. But the nations of the west, instead of taking from this
success a warning to unite for the common cause of Christendom, were encouraged
by it to think themselves secure from danger, and were confirmed in their
apathy.
Charles of France forbade the
publication of the pope’s bulls within his dominions, lest the crusade should
deprive him of strength which he needed against the English; but he allowed a
collection of a tenth for the expedition. By some universities, and by a
portion of the clergy, an appeal was made to a general council against the new
impost; but the university of Paris, which had taken the lead in this movement,
afterwards submitted to pay, with the understanding that the money should be
regarded as a pious aid, and that it was given for once only. Alfonso of Aragon
and Sicily promised to assist, but, after having got the crusading tithe into
his hands, he turned it against the Genoese, whom he described as the Turks of
Europe; and other princes limited their assistance to words. But in Germany,
where Carvajal was legate, a vehement spirit of opposition was manifested. The
Germans not only thought that they had been defrauded by the concordat of
Vienna, but complained that the terms of that agreement had been violated. They
talked of insisting on a pragmatic sanction; they cried out that they had been
sufficiently drained of money under the pretext of crusading tenths, in order
to feed the pope’s rapacity. Some of them ventured to question whether the
papacy had been founded by the Saviour; and there were threats of setting up a
king of the Romans in opposition to the emperor, whose neglect of the duties of
his station was loudly censured. Piccolomini, whose services to the papacy had
been rewarded successively by the bishoprics of Trieste and Siena, and whose
views became more and more papal as he rose higher in ecclesiastical dignity,
exerted himself indefatigably for the crusade. He wrote letters, attended
diets, and made speeches in a tone which contrasts remarkably with that of his
earlier acts at Basel. In 1456 he was sent to convey the assurance of the
emperor’s obedience to the new pope, when he took the opportunity to deliver an
eloquent oration in favour of the holy war, and his late exertions were
acknowledged by his promotion to the cardinalate. In answer to the mutterings
of Germany, Calixtus himself wrote to the emperor that all the money which had
been collected was spent on the war, and that more was needed; he did not
hesitate to say that the observance of concordats depended wholly on the pope’s
grace, although he condescended to add that for his own part he would observe
them. And Piccolomini, who was probably the author of the pontifical letter,
told the archbishop of Mayence, in his own name, that there could properly be
no pact between a lord (such as the pope) and his subjects. In order to set
forth his views of the relations between the papacy and the Germans, the
cardinal wrote his book on Germany. In this he defends the conduct of the pope
in the various questions which had arisen. He meets the charge of drawing money
from the poverty of Germany by dilating on its wealth, as displayed in the
principal cities. He contrasts the free cities of Germany, which owned
subjection to the emperor alone, and enjoyed the greatest liberty anywhere
known, with the Italian republics, such as Venice, Florence, and Siena, where
all but the dominant few were alike slaves.
With the sovereign whose confidant
he had formerly been, Calixtus was involved in serious difficulties. Alfonso,
being without lawful issue, had procured from pope Eugenius a document, by
which his son Ferdinand was legitimatized, and was declared capable of holding
the highest offices. And this privilege had been confirmed by Nicolas, so as
distinctly to make Ferdinand capable of succeeding to the Neapolitan crown,
which Alfonso, regarding as his own acquisition, intended to bestow on his son,
while the hereditary kingdom of Aragon was to fall to his own brother John.
Calixtus, however, although he had been himself Alfonso’s agent in the
negotiations with Eugenius, refused to confirm this —declaring that Ferdinand
was not only illegitimate but supposititious, and that the consent of Eugenius
had been got by surprise and under false pretences. On Alfonso’s death, in
1458, the pope claimed the kingdom as a fief which had lapsed to the Roman see,
forbidding the people to swear to any claimant, and absolving them from any
oath already taken. It was believed that he intended to bestow the kingdom on
his nephew Peter; while Charles, count of Viana, and John, a son of the old
claimant Rene of Provence, on various grounds asserted pretensions to it. The
Neapolitans themselves, who desired to preserve the independence of their kingdom,
were in favour of Ferdinand, who protested against the papal bull, and claimed
to be king by the gift of God and by the consent of the Neapolitan estates.
The pope, old and gouty, spent much
of his time in his sick-room, surrounded by friars, and by his three nephews,
the children of his sisters. During the pontificates of Eugenius and of
Nicolas, there had been no ground for complaint of undue family influence; but
it was now found that the pope’s kindred, with their partisans, who were
invidiously styled the Catalans, engrossed all power, and an enormous share of
office. The first cardinal made by Calixtus was his nephew Lewis John Milano,
whom he appointed legate of Bologna. But his favours were yet more remarkably
shown to his other nephews, Peter and Roderick Langol or Lenzuol, whose father,
in honour of his marriage into a family more distinguished than his own, took
the name of Borgia, and thus unwittingly gave occasion for the proverbial blackness
of infamy which has become attached to that name. Among the offices heaped on
Peter Borgia (who remained a layman) were those of vicar of Benevento and
Terracina, captain of St. Angelo, prefect of Rome, and standard-bearer of the
church; together with the dukedom of Spoleto, to which (as we have seen) it was
supposed that the kingdom of Naples was to be added. The younger brother,
Roderick, at the age of twenty-two, was raised to the college of cardinals, in
disregard of the remonstrances of its most eminent members; he was appointed
chancellor of the Roman church, legate of the Marches, and was loaded with
ecclesiastical benefices. Under the administration of these nephews Rome fell
into a frightful state of disorder; justice was corrupted, robbery and murder
were unpunished.
Before the quarrel as to Naples had
time to come to a height, Calixtus died, on the 6th of August 1458. Immediately
the Roman populace, instigated by the Orsini, broke out into insurrection
against the Colonnas and the Catalan party, of whom some were killed and some
were committed to prison. The prefect, Peter Borgia, was driven to take flight,
and, after having with difficulty escaped down the Tiber, made his way to
Civita Vecchia. But in the course of his escape he was seized with a fever, of
which he died in the harbour of that place, leaving his wealth to swell the
treasures of his brother Roderick.
On the 16th of August, eighteen
cardinals met in conclave, Capranica, whom his experience and his merits had
appeared to mark out as worthiest of the papacy, had died during the
solemnities of the late pope’s funeral. Barbo, Estouteville, and Calandrino
were brought forward, but after several scrutinies it appeared that no one had
the necessary proportion of votes; and recourse was had to the method of access. Roderick Borgia, chancellor of
the church, then stood forward, declaring himself for the cardinal of Siena;
and on him—Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini—the choice of the electors fell.
Bessarion, in the name of those who had voted for the French cardinal,
expressed their high sense of the new pope’s worthiness, and said that the
weakness of his health was the only reason why they had refrained from voting
for him at a time when bodily energy seemed to be necessary for the office.
With an allusion, as it would seem, to the favourite Virgilian epithet of
Aeneas, Piccolomini took the name of Pius, which had before been borne by only
a single pope, and at a date so remote as the second century.
Of all the cardinals, Piccolomini
was the most widely famous. He had served many masters, had been engaged in
opposite interests, and had been trained by a vast experience of affairs. His
character was not saintly, or in any way elevated; he represented the literary
culture of his time, but, above all things, he was a politician. Political
dexterity, variety of accomplishments, eloquence, tact, personal fascination,
were the gifts by which he had risen, and on which he relied. Six years before,
as he was descending the Ciminean range, near Viterbo, in attendance on
Frederick, who was then on his way to the Roman coronation, the emperor had
foretold to him the dignity which he had now attained. The election was popular
among the Romans, who were weary of the Catalan domination; and the report of
it was received with satisfaction by princes and others in foreign countries,
to whom the new pope was personally known.
At the election, the cardinals had
entered into a capitulation in which there were some novel features. The
future pope was bound to carry on the war against the Turks, to reform the
curia, to secure a provision for the cardinals, to act by their advice, to
choose them according to the decrees of Constance, without regard to the importunities
of princes. Once a year the cardinals were to meet, in order to inquire as to
his performance of his engagements; and they were authorized to admonish him in
case of failure.
Pius was much attached to his native
place, Corsignano, and to Siena, the home of his ancestors; and he showed to
the Sienese a favour which excited jealousy and animadversion. To this favour
some cardinals owed their places in the college; even St. Catharine was
indebted to it for her canonization. He raised the see of Siena to
metropolitical dignity, and enriched the church with relics and other gifts he
made Corsignano a bishopric, under the new name of Pienza, and adorned it with
a cathedral, a palace, and other buildings, which to our own day stand in
remarkable contrast with the small size and scanty population of the town. But
although he admired and sympathized with the tastes of Nicolas V., he did not
venture to build at Rome, with the exception of some small restorations and
improvements; and the hopes with which the literary class may naturally have
looked to a pope who might be regarded as one of themselves, were disappointed
in so far as concerned the direct encouragement of literature, although he
bestowed many court-offices and benefices on men of learning. The war against
the Turks engrossed his care, and left him no funds to spare for the patronage
of arts or of letters. His personal tastes and habits were simple; he delighted
in the pure air of the country, and intensely enjoyed the beauties of nature;
and the rapidity of his movements disgusted the formal officers of the court,
although these movements did not really interfere with his attention to the
details of business.
Pius wisely abandoned his
predecessor’s policy as to Naples. He acknowledged Ferdinand on certain conditions,
and sent a cardinal to officiate at his coronation; and the reconciliation was
cemented by a marriage between a nephew of the pope and an illegitimate
daughter of the king.
If the character of Pius was
incapable of religious enthusiasm, he had yet many motives for continuing, in
his new position, his endeavours to promote a crusade. The advance of the
Mussulmans threatened Christendom and its civilization, and an energetic effort
was required to oppose and to repel them; perhaps, too, Pius may have thought
to restore the greatness of the papacy by the same means which had enabled
former popes to place themselves at the head of the European nations. Within
two months after his election, he sent forth an invitation to an assembly which
was to be held at Mantua—a place selected as being convenient on the one hand
for the pope, and on the other for the princes beyond the Alps. The meeting was
not to be an ecclesiastical council, but a diet or congress of princes and so
greatly was the imperial authority sunk, that no one questioned the pope’s
right to convoke such an assembly, or to assume to himself the presidency of
it. He instituted an order of knighthood, named after “the blessed Virgin Mary
of Bethlehem” for the intended enterprise; and on the 22nd of January he set
out from Rome amidst the general lamentation (as he tells us) of his people. In
order to assure the Romans, whose misgivings were aroused by the remembrance
of the long sojourn of the popes at Avignon, he had decreed that, if he should
not return, the election of his successor should take place nowhere but at
Rome. When apprehensions were expressed that his enemies might take advantage
of his absence to invade his territory, he answered that the temporal
possessions of the papacy had often been lost and regained, but that if the
spirituality should be lost, it could hardly be recovered. Although only
fifty-three years of age, Pius was, prematurely broken in health; and he
suffered severely from illness as he made his way over the frozen Apennines.
On arriving at Mantua, he found
himself almost alone with his cardinals. A war was raging between the emperor
and the son of Huniades, Matthias Corvinus, who had lately been chosen king of
Hungary; and it is probable that Frederick may have gladly availed himself of
this as an excuse from paying homage to a pope whom he had long known as his
own servant. He therefore did not appear in person, and the ambassadors whom he
sent were so wanting in dignity and in ability that the pope sharply reproved
him by letter for the deficiencies of his representatives, as well as for his absence.
The French king, offended by the pope’s policy as to Naples, declined the
summons, and would not commit himself to the crusade. England was too deeply
engaged in the wars of York and Lancaster to spare any force for the general
cause of Christendom.
On the 1st of June, the pope opened
the assembly. He expressed his disappointment at the scantiness of the
attendance, which he contrasted on the one hand with the zeal which he himself
had shown in despising the sufferings and the perils of the journey to Mantua,
notwithstanding age, sickness, and the troubles which beset the Roman see, and
on the other hand with the enthusiasm of the Turks in favour of their “most
damned sect.” And he dwelt on the ambition of the infidels, who had already
made their way through Greece and Illyria into Hungary, and, unless checked,
might be expected to overwhelm all Europe, to the ruin of the Christian
religion. Disregarding the remonstrances which were pressed on him, and the
reports which were studiously circulated that the assembly was a hopeless
failure, he endeavoured to increase its numbers by addressing letters to the
princes of Europe, in which he again earnestly urged them to appear at Mantua,
or to send representatives. In consequence of these letters the congress
gradually increased, but not to any great degree.
The duke of Burgundy, although he
had been persuaded by his councillors to remain at home, sent a splendid
embassy, with the duke of Cleves at its head, to express his willingness to
fulfil his vow to the pheasant, if other princes could be induced to settle
their mutual quarrels, and to unite in the cause of Christendom. The duke of
Milan and some of the smaller Italian princes appeared in person; and at
length, on the 16th of November, arrived a French legation, headed by the
archbishop of Tours and the bishop of Paris.
On the 26th of September, the pope
delivered a speech which lasted three hours; but, although it was much admired
for its eloquence, it failed to raise any such enthusiasm as that which had
vented itself in the Diexlo volt of
Clermont. Of the cardinals who had
accompanied him, Bessarion alone showed any zeal for the crusade.
Much time was wasted by the
ambassadors of princes in discussing their mutual differences. The French, when
asked what help bright be expected from them, said that it was useless to speak
of the subject while France was at war with England. To this the pope replied
that the Hungarians would be destroyed by the common enemy before the French
and the English were reconciled; and he suggested that both nations should
contribute to the crusade in proportion to their numbers, so that the forces
which remained at home might bear the same relations to each other as before.
But this ingenious proposal failed to draw forth any promise of help. Of the
Italian powers, some were persuaded to promise aid in money for three years;
but the Venetians would promise nothing, and the Florentines afterwards
disavowed the engagements which their envoys had made for them. The duke of
Burgundy undertook to supply 6000 men. The Germans, after many difficulties had
been raised by Gregory Heimburg, who represented the emperor’s brother, Albert
of Austria, and is described by the pope as having laboured to sow dissensions,
were brought to renew the promise which they had made to pope Nicolas—that they
would furnish 10,000 cavalry and 32,000 foot. But in order to carry out this,
the sanction of two diets was necessary; and those diets the pope took it on
himself to summon, while, in order to compensate for this invasion of the
imperial rights, he declared the emperor leader and captain-general of the
crusade, —a position for which Frederick was notoriously, and even
ridiculously, unfit.
On the 19th of January 1460, the
pope dissolved the congress by a speech in which he reckoned the promises which
he had received as amounting to 88,000 men, besides the assurance of
co-operation from Scanderbeg and others in Greece, and the confident
expectation of assistance from the enemies of the Turks on the east.
Before leaving Mantua, Pius sent
forth a bull which from its first word is known by the title of Execrabilis, declaring an appeal from a
pope to a general council to be punishable with excommunication, and, in the
case of a university or of a college, with interdict. Although he tells us that
he had consulted the fathers who were at Mantua, and bad obtained their
unanimous consent, this was nothing less than an assumption that he was
entitled to overrule by his own authority the contrary decrees of Constance and
Basel.
In the end of January the pope set
out homewards, and, after some stay at Bologna and at Florence, and having
suffered more severely than before on the frozen mountains, he reached Siena,
where he was received with great rejoicings. The congress of Mantua had
undeceived him in a great degree as to the prospects of a crusade; for instead
of uniting the princes of Europe for the holy cause, it had served chiefly to
bring to light their lukewarmness and their discords.
Pius was recalled to Rome by tidings
of some disorders which had grown out of the remains of the Porcaro conspiracy
and were suppressed with the capital punishment of the leaders. He arrived on
the 7th of October, when he was received with a joyful welcome; and he soon
after vindicated himself, in a speech of two hours before the popular council,
against the charge of preferring the interests of Siena to those of the papal
city.
With a view of stirring up the
Germans for the crusade, and of effecting a reconciliation between the emperor
and the king of Hungary, Bessarion was sent into Germany. But he was met by
complaints that the imposition of a tenth by the pope’s sole authority was
contrary to a decree of the council of Constance; and the cardinal was so much
irritated and disgusted by the turbulence of the Germans and by the
backwardness of the clergy, that at leaving Vienna he gave his blessing with
the left hand instead of the right.
At this time the German church was
distracted by a contest for the primacy. Diether, count of Isenburg, had in
1459 been elected to the see of Mayence—not without bribery, according to his
enemies, although this is strongly denied. Before confirming the election, Pius
wished to bind him by engagements that he would not urge the assembling of a general
council, and that he would not convoke the princes of the empire without the
consent of the emperor, to whom such meetings were almost as unwelcome as
general councils were to popes. Diether, with some difficulty, obtained a
dispensation from appearing in person at Mantua; but his representatives at the
congress submitted to a demand of 20,500 florins by way of first fruits on his
appointment, and, as they were not provided with the money, they borrowed it
of some Roman bankers. On these terms, and on their pledging him to appear at
the papal court within a year, the pope’s confirmation was granted. But the
archbishop, on hearing of the affair, protested against the exaction, as being
more than double the amount required of his predecessors, and as a violation
of the late concordat, which Pius himself had negotiated; and, as he did not
repay the loan, he was excommunicated at the instance of the creditors. This
was, indeed, nothing more than a part of the regular process of some inferior
court at Rome, to whose jurisdiction the matter of the debt belonged; and the
pope disavowed all knowledge of the excommunication, while he justified the
increase of the payment on the ground that it was destined for the crusade. But
Diether maintained that the curia was in collusion with the money-lenders; and,
in defiance of the late bull Execrabilis,
he appealed to a general council. In Aug. 21, consequence of this appeal, a
sentence of deposition was issued against him; and count Adolphus of Nassau, a
canon of Mayence, was nominated by the pope to the see. The rivals fought,
according to the usual German fashion, by their families, their dependants, and
their allies, desolating the country which was the scene of their warfare, and
utterly disregarding the common interest of the crusade. But at length Diether
was brought to give up his pretensions to the archbishopric, on condition that
he should enjoy for life certain towns, castles, and tolls, and that Adolphus
should, at his own expense, procure his restoration to the church.
About the same time with the
question of the German primacy, a violent quarrel as to jurisdiction, the
collection of annates, and other subjects, arose between Sigismund of Austria,
duke of the Tyrol, and cardinal Nicolas of Cusa, who ten years before had been
appointed by pope Nicolas to the bishopric of Brixen, in preference to a
candidate elected by the chapter. The duke ventured so far as to imprison the
cardinal; whereupon the pope denounced him and his abettors by sentences of
anathema and of other penalties, against which Sigismund appealed to a general
council. A fierce controversy followed, in which the most conspicuous of
Sigismund’s partisans was the indefatigable enemy of the Roman court, Gregory
Heimburg. Gregory was excommunicated in October 1460, but continued to employ
against the papacy all the resources of his learning, acuteness, and unsparing
sarcasm. Sigismund was absolved in 1564, through the mediation of the emperor,
who is said, in his anxiety for the honour of his family, to have even thrown
himself at a legate’s feet. But Gregory Heimburg remained under
excommunication, and during the following years he was found wherever there was
an opposition to the papacy—with Diether at Mayence, with Albert of Austria
when he besieged his brother Frederick in Vienna, with king George Podiebrad in
Bohemia. At length, in 1471, feeling the approach of death, he submitted to the
church, and entreated absolution; and thus the sturdy adversary of Rome died in
outward peace with the papacy.
The frequent appeals to general
councils forced on the pope’s notice the inconsistency which was observed
between his earlier and his later policy; and, in order to vindicate himself,
he put forth, in April 1463, his “Bull of Retractation”, addressed to the university
of Cologne. In this he admits that he had said, written, and done many things
which might be condemned; but he professes a wish, like St. Augustine, to
retract the errors of his earlier years, rather than obstinately to adhere to
them. He lays down strong principles as to the authority of the papacy, and
desires that anything inconsistent with these in his writings may be rejected.
“Believe an old man,” he says, “rather than a young one, and do not make a
private person of more account than a pontiff. Reject Aeneas; receive Pius :
the former gentile name our parents imposed on us at our birth; the latter
Christian name we took with our apostolic office.” In order to show that
this change of opinions had not been caused by his elevation, he enters into an
account of his earlier career. At Basel his inexperience had been misled by the
misrepresentations of cardinals and other persons hostile to Eugenius, and by
the authority of the Parisian and other academics, to fall in with the general
disparagement of the papacy. Thus, when he came to take an independent part in
the council, it was in accordance with the spirit which prevailed there; and
supposing the defections of Julian Cesarini and others to the council of
Ferrara to have been prompted by a fear of losing their preferments, he
remained at Basel and took part with the antipope. The emperor’s refusal to
acknowledge Felix staggered him; he passed into the service of Frederick, who,
like the Germans generally, was neutral in the question of the papacy; and
among the neutral party he learnt the falsehood of many of the charges against
Eugenius. Still more, he learnt, by frequent conversations with Cesarini, who
was then on his Hungarian legation, to see many things in a new light. He goes
on to relate the course of his submission to Eugenius, and points out that
until then he had been merely a clerk, without having proceeded even to the
minor orders. Having thus explained his own career, he proceeds to dwell on the
unity of the church, under the pope as its head; and he professes reverence for
councils approved by the pope, whose sanction he considers necessary to their
validity. Skilful as this apology is, perhaps its effect is rather to bring out
than to justify the contrast between the writer’s earlier and his later
opinions.
With France the relations of Pius
were not very cordial. He strongly desired the repeal of the pragmatic sanction
of Bourges, which he spoke of to the French ambassadors at Mantua as a spot and
a wrinkle deforming the national church, and a token of Antichrist’s approach.
And his bull Execrabilis, in
censuring appeals to a general council, implied a condemnation of the
pragmatic sanction. But so little were the French convinced by this vehemence,
that in the following year the king’s procurator-general, John Dauvet, put
forth an answer to the pope’s speech, and appealed to the judgment of the universal
church. The death of Charles VII., however, produced a change in this respect.
Lewis XI., who had been on bad terms with his father, was inclined, out of
hatred to the memory of Charles, to reverse his policy in this and in other
matters. It is said that he looked on calmly when, at the late king’s funeral,
the bishop of Terni, as papal legate, insulted the memory of Charles and the
reputation of the Gallican church by pronouncing an absolution over him for his
concern in the pragmatic sanction; and he was persuaded by John Godefroy,
bishop of Arras, a crafty politician, who conveyed to him the pope’s blessing
on his accession, that, by abolishing the sanction, he would do away with the
influence which the great feudatories exercised in ecclesiastical promotion,
and might reckon on getting the real patronage into his own hands. In the
following year, the king sent Godefroy (for whom he and the duke of Burgundy
had procured the dignity of cardinal) to announce at Rome the repeal of the
pragmatic sanction. The tidings were received with great rejoicing. All work
was suspended for three days; the city was illuminated, bells were rung, the
streets were animated by singing and dancing, the sound of trumpets, and the
blazing of bonfires; and copies of the obnoxious document were ignominiously
dragged through the mud. The pope rewarded Lewis with a gift of a consecrated
sword, which bore an inscription in verse, exhorting him to destroy the power
of the Turks. But the hopes which the bishop of Arras had deceitfully held out,
that the pope would declare for the Angevine interest as to Naples, were
utterly disappointed. Pius offered nothing more than to arbitrate between the
claimants; and he at once began to exercise his new privileges in the patronage
of French dignities. Lewis in his anger was disposed to recall his late
concession; and he found it had produced an indignation which he had not
expected in the parliaments and in the universities of France, among the nobles
and among the citizens, who regarded it as a sacrifice of the national honour.
In 1467, under the pontificate of Paul II, when the king’s confidant, cardinal
Balue, produced before the parliament the royal letter by which the sanction
was repealed, John de St. Romain, the king’s procurator-general, opposed the
registration of it, which was necessary to give it the force of law; and, on
being threatened by the cardinal with the royal displeasure, he replied that he
would rather lose his office than do anything which might endanger his soul,
his sovereign, and his country. The parliament cried out that within three
years 3,000,000 of gold crowns had been drawn from France by the papal court.
Lewis expelled the pope’s collectors, and seized the temporalities of those
cardinals who held sees or abbacies in France. Without formally retracting his
late act, he proceeded as if the pragmatic sanction were still in force; and
this state of things continued throughout the reign.
Notwithstanding the discouragement
which Pius had received as to the crusade, he was still bent on that
enterprise. After the gradual extinction of the smaller Greek principalities,
the work of resisting the Turks was chiefly left to the king of Hungary on the
lower Danube, and to the indomitable Scanderbeg in Albania. But frequent
communications were brought to Rome, as if from eastern princes, who offered to
co-operate in vast force, if the Christians of Europe would attack the Turks on
the west. And in 1461 a great sensation was produced at Rome by the arrival of
Thomas Palaeologus, brother of the last Byzantine emperor, and formerly lord of
the Morea, who had been driven from Greece, and brought with him from Patras,
the traditional place of St. Andrew’s martyrdom, a head which was said to be
that of the apostle. The pope had eagerly entered into treaty for this
venerable relic, and succeeded in obtaining it against the competition of many
princes. It was brought with much ceremony from Ancona, where Palaeologus had
left it, was met at Narni by Bessarion and two other cardinals, and on its
arrival at Rome was received with extraordinary reverence. Invitations had been
sent to the cities of Italy, with a promise of the same indulgence as at a
jubilee for those who should be present; and the crowd was as great as at the
jubilee under Nicolas V. The head was carried to St. Peter’s in procession,
attended by 30,000 torches, while the palaces and other houses along the way
were hung with tapestry, and numerous altars adorned the streets. The hours
occupied by the procession from the Flaminian gate were the only interval of
fair weather in a whole month, and the solemnity of the holy week, which had
just begun, combined with the other influences of the scene. The Vatican
basilica was splendidly illuminated ; the pope addressed the holy relic in an
eloquent and affecting speech, while the vast multitude showed their sympathy
by weeping, sobbing, and beating their breasts; and, after other ceremonies, to
which the strains of music from instruments and voices added effect, the head
of St. Andrew was deposited beside that of St. Peter.
Soon after the loss of Sinope and of
Trebizond had been reported in the west, Pius ventured on the extraordinary
measure of addressing a letter to Mahomet, for the purpose of urging him to
embrace the Christian faith. He begins by warning the sultan not to trust in
his fortune, but to seek for power and fame rather through being baptized; and
in this part of the letter he partly appeals to motives of temporal interest.
He then goes on to statements of Christian doctrine, with many reflections on
the errors of Mahometanism and on the laxity of its morality. He argues
against the assertion that the Scriptures had been corrupted, ridicules the
legends of the Koran, and celebrates the great writers of the Christian church;
and he concludes by again exhorting Mahomet to enter into the church by
baptism. Although this letter displays much learning and ingenuity, it is
difficult to conceive how a man so shrewd and so experienced as the writer
could have expected it to produce conviction in the mind of the Turkish prince,
even if (as was most unlikely) he were ever to listen to the reading of it.
A discovery of alum mines near La
Tolfa, in 1462, added considerably to the papal revenue, and at the same time
deprived the Turks of the money which the western nations had been accustomed
to pay for the alum of Asia Minor; and Pius did not hesitate to give the name
of miracle to an event which thus doubly tended to advance his hopes of a
crusade.
Pius invited all princes to send
representatives to a congress at Rome, and he addressed the cardinals in an
eloquent and pathetic speech, proposing a crusade, with a truce for five years
among Christians. He declared his intention of joining the expedition, not for
the purpose of fighting, but that, while God’s people fought, he might, like
Moses, from a hill or from the elevated deck of a ship, pray for them and pour
curses on the enemy. Of the cardinals, to whom he spoke in a second address,
all but those of Spoleto and Arras were in favour of a crusade. But when he
issued a bull for the purpose, no Christian states, except Venice and Hungary,
were found to respond. In Germany the cry was rather for a reform of the church
than for a war against the infidels. In England, when the pope asked the clergy
to give a tenth for the crusade, a sixtieth was proposed by some, and only a
fortieth was voted. Lewis of France, irritated by his disappointment as to
Naples and by the consequences of his concession as to the pragmatic sanction,
not only held aloof, but urged duke Philip of Burgundy to leave unfulfilled his
vow to the pheasant. A few of the Italian powers, however, agreed to pay the
same amounts which had formerly been promised at Mantua.
On the 19th of June 1464, the pope,
although suffering from gout and fever, set out for Ancona, where he expected
to find the Venetian fleet. Turning round to look on his city from the Quintian
meadows, he burst out into the words “Farewell, Rome! thou wilt never again see
me alive!”. On account of his weak condition, he took advantage of the
Tiber as far as possible, proceeding up the stream from the Ponte Molle, and
after a slow land-journey by way of Loreto, he reached Ancona on the 18th of
July. In the course of this journey he repeatedly fell in with parties of
volunteers who had flocked into Italy for the crusade; but they were in general
utterly unfit for the work—unarmed, undisciplined, without any leaders, many
of them worn out and impotent, beggarly, ragged, and hungry. The pope,
distressed and disgusted by the sight of such allies, gave them his blessing,
and desired them to return to their homes; whereupon the better of them sold
such things as they had, and obeyed his charge, while others, after having
vainly waited for the beginning of the expedition, betook themselves to robbery
for support.
At Ancona Pius found that the
expected naval allies had not yet arrived; and in the meanwhile his illness was
growing on him. On the 12th of August he had the gratification of seeing, from
the bishop’s palace, where he was lodged, the entry of twenty-four Venetian
galleys into the harbour, under the command of the doge, Christopher Moro; but
he was too weak to receive the doge, as he had intended, on the following day.
On the 14th he called to his bedside the cardinals who had accompanied him, and
recommended to their care the prosecution of the war, the ecclesiastical state,
and his own nephews. He asked for the last sacraments, and had a discussion
with the bishop of Ferrara on the question whether he should receive extreme
unction, as he had already received it when dangerously sick at Basel. He
repeated the Athanasian creed, which he declared to be “most true and holy.”
Bessarion endeavoured to comfort him by the assurance that he had governed
well; and on the following day the pope expired. However we may judge of the
versatile character and of the strangely varied career of this remarkable man,
the circumstances of his last days entitle him to respect, as having sacrificed
his life for Christendom, even if it may be supposed that other motives mingled
with those of religion.
The crusade ended with the death of
the pope who had projected it. Of the money which he had collected for the
expedition, a part was given to the Venetians and a part to the king of
Hungary; and these powers continued to carry on war against the Turks by sea
and by land.
The cardinals returned to Rome for
the purpose of electing a pope; and on the 31st of August, at the first
scrutiny, it was found that their choice had fallen on Peter Barbo, a Venetian,
whose family pretended to descent from the old Roman Ahenobarbi. The new pope,
who was forty-six years of age, took the name of Paul II; he was a nephew of
Eugenius IV, on whose elevation he had exchanged a mercantile life for the profession
of an ecclesiastic. He had been created cardinal of St. Mark at the age of
twenty-two by his uncle, and while holding that dignity had rebuilt the church
from which he took his title, and had begun the vast Venetian palace, for which
the materials were chiefly derived from the plunder of the Colosseum. After the
death of Eugenius, he was able to secure the favour of Nicolas and Calixtus;
and he obtained from Pius a pension charged on the Cluniac priory of Paisley,
although this pope was in the habit of speaking of him as Maria pientissima on account of his affectedly soft and tender
manner, which he carried so far as to make use of tears for any purpose which
could not otherwise be gained. So vain was Barbo of his handsome person, that,
if we may believe Platina, he wished as pope to take the name of Formosus, and
was with difficulty dissuaded by the cardinals. His love of display and show
led him to spend large sums on jewels, precious stones, and other ornaments;
and in order to provide the means of this expenditure, he was accustomed to
keep in his own hands the income of vacant bishopric’s and other offices,
instead of filling them up. He was fond of exhibiting himself in splendid
attire at great religious functions, and on some occasions endeavoured to
heighten the effect of his appearance by painting his face. Among his other
peculiarities, it is mentioned that he was accustomed to transact all business
by night. It is from Paul’s institution, rather than from any unbroken
traditions of paganism, that the festivities of the Roman carnival derive their
character; and he used to look on from the Venetian palace at the races run by
old men and young men, by Jews, horses, asses, and buffaloes, along the Via
Lata, which from these sports acquired the new name of Corso.
In other respects there is a
conflict of testimony as to his character; for while Platina (who had special
reasons for disliking him) represents him as heartless, cruel, and difficult of
approach, other writers dilate on his tenderness, his universal benevolence,
and his bountiful charity. Among the objects of this bounty were even the
poorer cardinals and bishops, as Platina himself tells us; and he agrees with
the eulogists of Paul in describing him as merciful to those who offended
against the law.
Before proceeding to an election,
the cardinals had been exhorted in a discourse by the bishop of Torcello, who represented
the danger that all authority might pass from the college to the pope, so as to
be exercised at his mere will, and advised them to choose such a pope as might
remedy this evil. They had bound themselves by capitulations, slightly altered
from those which had been framed at the last papal election. The future pope
was to carry on the crusade which had been begun against the Turks; to call a
general council within three years; to observe certain rules as to the
nomination of cardinals; to appoint no more than one cardinal from among his
own kindred, and to refrain from bestowing certain important offices on these;
and there were special provisions for securing to the cardinals a real
influence as counsellors of the pope in the administration of his office. His
promises were to be read over to him in the consistory every month, and twice
a year the cardinals were to inquire as to his performance of them, and, in
case of his failure, were to admonish him with filial deference. Yet Paul,
although he had not only agreed to these stipulations, but had again sworn to
them after his election, threw off their obligation. He declared that such
engagements were unlawful; and, chiefly by wheedling, partly by other means,
he induced the cardinals to subscribe, instead of the capitulations, an altered
form, which he then locked up, so that it was never seen again. Bessarion was
forcibly compelled to sign; the aged Carvajal alone persisted in refusing.
Paul showed little of his
predecessor’s zeal for the holy war, although the Turks were pressing onwards
in their career of conquest, so that Italy itself seemed to be in danger. He
gave, however, the produce of the alum mines for the crusade, as he had engaged
to do by the capitulations. He spent large sums, with but little effect, in
subsidising the king of Hungary, Scanderbeg, and other opponents of the Turks;
and he endeavoured to seek for alliances and money in Germany, where his
representatives found both princes and people generally indifferent to the
cause.
In the end of 1468, the emperor
suddenly revisited Rome, with a small train of attendants. The professed object
of his journey was to fulfil a vow of pilgrimage which he had made on his
deliverance, by George Podiebrad, from being besieged in his palace at Vienna,
and to concert an expedition against the Turks; but it has been suspected that
its real motive was different,— that he perhaps even intended to contrive the
ruin of the neighbour to whom he had been so greatly indebted. He arrived on
Christmas eve, was conducted by torchlight from the Flaminian gate to the
Vatican, and, on the morning of the great festival, edified the congregation
assembled in St. Peter’s by the skill with which he chanted the gospel of the
decree which went out from Caesar Augustus. The emperor communicated with the
pope; but, whereas it was usual for persons admitted to that honour to receive
in both kinds, the chalice was on this occasion received by the pope alone,
lest encouragement should be given to the Hussite belief of its necessity. The
visit lasted seventeen days, during which Frederick visited the remains of
antiquity, and Paul had the gratification of entertaining the emperor by a
display of his precious jewels. But even as to etiquette there were some
differences; and when Frederick proposed a congress like that of Mantua, the
pope replied that such meetings produced discord rather than union. Whether for
avowed or for secret reasons, the two were mutually dissatisfied, and Frederick
returned to Germany in displeasure.
Paul professed himself desirous of
reforming the curia; but, notwithstanding these professions, offices as well as
benefices continued to be offered for sale. In one instance, however, he made
an attempt at reform, which, by provoking the enmity of the biographer Platina,
has seriously affected his reputation with posterity. The college of
abbreviators, which took its origin from the days of the Avignon papacy, had
been reconstituted by Pius II, who fixed its number at seventy. These for the
most part had bought their offices, with the assurance that they were
permanent, and among them were many men of the literary class, including the
biographer of the popes. When, therefore, Paul charged the abbreviators with
simony and other corruption, and proceeded to dissolve the college, he raised
against himself a host of peculiarly dangerous enemies; and the narrative of
Platina, who had suffered especial hardship and persecution, has left
imputations on the pope’s character and conduct which, although we may not
fully trust the writer, are not met by any evidence on the more favourable
side. In the course of this affair, the pope attempted to connect Platina with
a party which he accused of paganism. The members of this party had formed
themselves into an academy, of which Pomponius Leti, an illegitimate offspring
of the counts of San Severino, was president. They are said to have disdained
their baptismal names, and to have taken up instead of them fantastical
substitutes, such as Callimachus and Asclepiades; but while at Florence the
revival of classical learning was animated by a passion for the literature of
Greece, the spirit of this party was so exclusively Roman that Leti refused
even to become acquainted with the Greek language. To Paul such an association
was naturally obnoxious, although we need not trace this dislike, with Platina,
to his own want of literary culture alone, but may refer it with more
probability to a dread of heathen and republican tendencies. He therefore
proceeded against them with much rigour; some of them were severely tortured in
his own presence, and were banished; one even died in consequence of the
torture.
Among the events of this pontificate
may be mentioned the introduction of the new art of printing into Rome by Ulric
Hahn, a German, and by his more famous countrymen Schweynheim and Pannartz, who
had before practised it in the monastery of Subiaco.
Paul was found dead in his bed on
the 26th of July 1471. His death is attributed by Platina to indigestion; but,
as he had not received the last sacraments, it was popularly believed that he
had been killed by a devil, whom he was supposed to carry in his signet-ring.
Although he had advanced three of his relations to the cardinalate, it is
recorded to his credit that he did not give himself over to the influence of
any favourite, but kept his family and servants in due subordination; and his
pontificate, however little we may find in it to respect, came afterwards to be
regarded as an era of purity and virtue in comparison with the deep degradation
which followed.
We may now revert to the religious
history of Bohemia.
In 1444, on the death of Ptaczek,
George Boczek, of Podiebrad, was chosen by the Calixtines to act as regent
during the minority of Ladislaus, in conjunction with Meinhard of Neuhaus. But
the co-regents disagreed, as Meinhard became more decidedly favourable to the
Roman usage in the administration of the Eucharist; and he died not long after
the capital had been wrested from him by Podiebrad in September i448. In April
1451, Podiebrad was chosen sole regent, and he honestly attempted to deal
fairly with all parties. On gaining possession of Prague he had brought back
Rokyczana, who exercised almost all the rights of an archbishop, and bore
hardly on the Roman party. Negotiations were carried on with Rome—the
utraquists asking that Rokyczana might be consecrated, and that the compactata might be extended in their
favour, while the Roman party required full restoration of ecclesiastical and
monastic property, and wished the liberty of receiving the chalice to be withdrawn.
The compactata laboured under the
difficulty that the Bohemians had concluded them with the council of Basel
alone, at a time when it was in hostility to pope Eugenius; and that, when
terms were afterwards made between the council and Nicolas V, the compactata had not been included. Hence
the curia now astonished the Bohemians by treating the agreement as if it did
not exist; and cardinal Carvajal, on a mission in 1448, provoked them so much
in this and in other respects, that his departure from Prague became the signal
for a popular outbreak, in which he was assailed with curses and with stones.
In 1451 Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini,
then bishop of Siena and secretary to the emperor, was sent by Frederick to
explain to the Bohemians his reasons for retaining the guardianship of their
young king. He had interviews with Podiebrad, who set forth the national
grievances; to which the envoy replied by complaining that the utraquists did
not observe their part of the Basel agreement. And when the regent dwelt on the
pope’s refusal to consecrate an archbishop, Piccolomini answered that the
Bohemians did wrong in insisting that Rokyczana should be the man.
But the most remarkable part of this
narrative is the account of his visits to Tabor. He found the people rude,
although they wished to appear civilized. They were roughly hospitable; their
clothing was scanty; their houses, built of wood or clay, were arranged like
the tents out of which the town had grown, and within them was displayed a
profusion of spoil brought home from marauding expeditions. As such resources
were no longer available, the Taborites had betaken themselves to commerce;
the principle of a community of goods, which had formerly been established, was
now abandoned. On attempting to convert his host, Piccolomini found him a very
questionable Taborite, who kept images for his secret worship.
In his return, the envoy again
visited the place, but would neither eat nor drink there, and held a discussion
with Nicolas Biscupek and others on the eucharistic usage and other points of
difference. Their opinions he found to be far worse than he had expected; and
he concludes his account by saying that among barbarians, anthropophagi, and
the monstrous natives of India and Libya, there were none more monstrous than
the Taborites. In the following year Rokyczana was able, by the aid of the
regent Podiebrad, to reduce the Taborites to conformity. Nicolas and another
leader were imprisoned in fortresses until they should acknowledge Rokyczana,
and ended their days in confinement; and in the month of December 1452 mass was
for the first time celebrated at Tabor with the vestments and rites of the
Calixtines.
In 1451 John of Capistrano, the
eloquent Franciscan who afterwards animated the defenders of Belgrade, was sent
by Nicolas V into Bohemia and the neighbouring countries for the purpose of
opposing Hussitism, with authority to absolve all who should submit to the
church. His preaching is said to have been enforced by miracles, and its
effects are described as prodigious. At Breslau, the people were at once
subdued into repentance for their sins, and excited to enthusiastic fury
against the Bohemian heretics; and they brought together playing-cards, dice,
chess-boards, and other instruments of gaming or of vanity, for a great bonfire
in the market-place. At Olmütz, he tells us that he had 100,000 hearers at
once; and he made upwards of 3000 converts, partly by the confident assurance
that all who had received the Eucharist in both kinds were lost. But his excess
of zeal led him into extravagances, which were blamed even by his associate
Nicolas of Cusa; and as the regent threw obstacles in the way of his entering
Bohemia, the challenges which passed between the friar and Rokyczana did not
result in the disputation which both professed to desire. Although the Greeks,
at the time of the council of Basel, had greatly resented an incautious phrase
which classed them with the Hussites, the increasing distress of the empire had
reduced them to seek for aid in any quarter from which it might possibly be
hoped for; and thus, in 1452, the highest personages of the Byzantine church
made overtures to the Bohemians, in which they expressed themselves as willing
to tolerate any rites which might be found edifying and at the same time not
contrary to the laws of the church. But this negotiation was ended by the fall
of Constantinople in the spring of the following year.
The emperor had at length been
compelled to give up Ladislaus to his Bohemian subjects; and, as the king was
only thirteen years old, Podiebrad became his tutor, and continued to act as
regent. Ladislaus, under the instructions of Piccolomini, had been strongly
prepossessed against the utraquists : “If the Bohemians wish to have me for
their king”, he said, “they must be Christians, and confess the same faith with
me”. But by the regent’s prudent management, he was brought to confirm all that
had been promised by his predecessors Sigismund and Albert, including the
maintenance of the compactata, and an
engagement to take measures for the confirmation and consecration of Rokyczana
as archbishop. Thus Podiebrad succeeded in preserving peace between Ladislaus
and his subjects; but a renewed application to Rome in favour of Rokyczana was
ineffectual.
Ladislaus died after a short illness
in December 1457. There were several candidates for the vacant throne; but the
election fell on the regent Podiebrad, as being the fittest to enjoy in his own
name the power, which he had successfully administered in the name of the late
sovereign. For this he was partly indebted to the support of Rokyczana, who
eloquently advocated the expediency of choosing a native Bohemian; “rather
than elect a foreigner for king,” he said, “Bohemia ought to become a republic,
like Israel in the time of the judges.” The coronation was performed by two
Hungarian bishops, as no Bohemian prelate could be found to officiate; and the
new king bound himself by an oath, as to the interpretation of which there was
afterwards much question, that he would be obedient to the Roman church, to
pope Calixtus and his successors; that he would hold to the unity of the
orthodox faith, and would protect it with all his might; that he would labour
to recall his people from “all errors, sects, and heresies, and from other
articles contrary to the holy Roman church and the catholic faith, and to bring
them to obedience, conformity, and union, and to the rite and worship of the
holy Roman church.”
To this time is referred the origin
of a community which has lasted to our own day, and has been greatly
distinguished in missionary and other religious labours—the Unitas Fratrum, or Moravian brethren.
The peculiar ideas out of which it grew are traced to Peter of Chelcick, a layman,
who was born about 1390, and lived on his own estate near Wodnian. Peter
produced many writings, which are said to show an earnestness rather for the
moral part of religion than for doctrines; in some points—such as the
condemnation of secular dignity in the clergy and of the alliance between
temporal and ecclesiastical power, of oaths, war, and capital punishment—his
principles resemble those of the Waldenses, with whom he and his followers
formed a connexion. One Gregory, who, although of noble family, was a tailor by
occupation, on applying to Rokyczana for the satisfaction of some
perplexities, was referred by him to the writings of Peter, in which he found
his own thoughts anticipated; and in consequence of this he sought the author’s
acquaintance. After a time, Gregory, considering himself to have acquired a
higher degree of spiritual insight, attempted to make a convert of Rokyczana,
and to place him at the head of a new communion; but Rokyczana was not to be so
gained, although he treated the party with kindness, and procured for them from
king George permission to settle at a lonely place called Kunwald. The new
society attracted members from all ranks; all called each other brethren; and,
having convinced themselves that the church was hopelessly corrupt, they
separated from it in 1457. Ten years later, they set up a ministry of their
own, independent of any theory of succession, and resting its claims on the
personal piety of the ministers, who at first were chosen by lot. Rokyczana, notwithstanding
his kindly feeling towards the brethren, found himself obliged to carry on an
inquisition into their doctrines and practices. The settlement at Kunwald was
broken up, and, in fulfilment of the oath taken by the king at his coronation,
they were persecuted with great severity, so that they were driven to perform
their services in the woods; while, unlike the Taborites, they professed and
acted on a principle of patient endurance and submissions But notwithstanding
persecution, the party continued to increase.
The fairness with which the new king
endeavoured to deal between the two great parties among his subjects has been
acknowledged even by hostile writers, who also admit his great merit as a
sovereign in other respects, and in the position to which he had been raised,
his prudence, courage, and skill were severely tried. From the Silesians and
the Moravians he met with much opposition, of which Breslau was the centre. The
excitement lately produced in that city by John of Capistrano , has been
already mentioned; and the people were continually stirred to disaffection by
the lower clergy and friars, who persuaded them that George was a Nero, a
Decius, a murderer—that he was the great dragon of the Apocalypse, and that he
prayed not to God, but to Rokyczana. The Roman party in Bohemia divided its
allegiance between the king and the papacy; and the emperor Frederick, who had
himself been a candidate for the crown of Bohemia, regarded his successful
rival with jealousy and ill-will.
At Rome, George was acknowledged as
king by Calixtus; and Pius, in his eagerness to enlist so important an ally for
the crusade, invited him to the congress of Mantua, although, from hesitation
as to addressing him by the royal title, he sent the letter through the emperor.
George took occasion from this letter to claim the allegiance of those who had
held aloof from him as a Hussite; but he was unable to appear in person at
Mantua, and fresh questions soon arose between him and the papacy. Pius, in
disregard at once of the compactata and of Rokyczana’s claims, nominated the dean of Prague as archbishop; and when
the king, in 1462, sent an embassy to Rome, for the purpose of asking that
Rokyczana’s title might be acknowledged, and that the authority of the compactata might be clearly established,
as John of Capistrano had disowned them, the pope himself declared that they
had never been admitted by the papacy—which, he said, knew nothing of such compromises.
Moreover, he added, the generation to which this indulgence had been granted by
the council of Basel was now almost extinct; the Bohemians, by failing to
observe their own side of the compactata,
had forfeited all right to claim the benefit of them; and, in any case, the
pope might do away with the arrangement, and might substitute something better.
Fantino della Valle, a doctor of
laws, was sent with the ambassadors on their return, and was commissioned to
persuade the Bohemians to give up the chalice and the compactata. But he behaved with such insolence to the king, by
publicly taxing him with breach of his coronation-oath, and threatening him
with deposition and anathema as a heretic, that George was with difficulty
restrained from personal violence, and committed him for a time to prison;
although he declared that Fantino was thus punished, not as papal legate, but
for having acted unfaithfully as the king’s procurator at Rome. George
indignantly disavowed the sense which the Roman party attempted to put on his
oath. Was it possible, he asked, that he could have supposed his own religious
opinions—founded, as they were, on the gospel and on the primitive faith—to be
included among the heresies which he had bound himself to extirpate? If he had
supposed the compactata to be
heretical, was it possible that he should have asked the pope to confirm them?
Rather would he sacrifice his crown than be false to his oath. And in proof of
his sincerity as to the fulfilment of it, he was able to point to the
severities which he had exercised against the more extreme sections of the
utraquists,—the remnant of the Taborites and the new party of united brethren.
The pope, instead of answering a letter from George, denounced him to the
emperor as a heathen man and a publican, who had separated himself from the
church; and it was in vain that the emperor attempted to intercede for him.
When about finally to leave Rome,
Pius cited the Bohemian king to answer within a hundred and eighty days; and in
the meantime George was labouring to form a league of princes against the
Turks, which should be independent of the papacy.
The policy of Pius as to Bohemia had
been dictated by his personal experience of that country and its parties; and
it was continued by his successor Paul, chiefly under the influence of cardinal
Carvajal, whose mission to Bohemia had produced in him an inflexible hostility
to the Hussites, and who for many years had been labouring to July 22, undo the
work of Constance and of Basel. The process against George was resumed and was
committed by the pope to Carvajal, Bessarion, and another cardinal; and “George
of Podiebrad, who styles himself king of Bohemia,” was again cited to answer at
Rome within a hundred and eighty days, for heresy, relapse, perjury, sacrilege,
and blasphemy. In the following year an alliance of Bohemian and other nobles
was formed against George. They presented a list of twelve grievances; they
demanded that the king should perform his coronation oath, and should expel
Rokyczana with the utraquist clergy; and they asked the pope to give them
another king, declaring a preference in favour of Casimir of Poland.
At a diet which was held at
Nuremberg, at Martinmas 1466, for the purpose of raising Germany against the
Turks, Fantino della Valle appeared as papal legate, and insisted that the
Bohemian ambassadors should be excluded, on the ground that their king was a
heretic. By this insult George was deeply provoked, and at Christmas, while the
tidings of a sentence of deposition passed on him at Rome two days before were
on their way to him, he sent a defiance to the emperor, from whom he had met
with much underhand enmity, instead of the gratitude which he had justly earned
by delivering Frederick when besieged by. his brother Albert.11 The letter of
defiance was composed by Gregory Heimburg, with all the vigour of his style,
and with a hearty expression of the dislike and contempt with which he
regarded the emperor.
The king had endeavoured, by ceasing
to insist on the other points of the compactata, to gain the papal sanction for the administration of the chalice to the laity,
and for the consecration of an archbishop, who might ordain clergy both for the
utraquists and for the adherents of the Roman system; but such proposals met
with no attention. The pope, without observing the usual forms of process, condemned
George by repeated bulls, as guilty of heresy, perjury, sacrilege, and other
offences; pronounced him to be deposed, and released his subjects from their
engagements to him. On Maundy Thursday following, George was denounced as
foremost of those who had incurred the anathema of the church; and when the
sentence was afterwards repeated, it was extended to his wife and children, to
Rokyczana, and to Gregory Heimburg, who gladly brought the power of his
learning and of his sarcastic pen to combat the papal assumptions in this new
quarrel.
A crusade was proclaimed against
George, with the usual privileges for those who should take part in it. Casimir
of Poland was disinclined to accept the overtures of the discontented
Bohemians; but Matthias of Hungary, a prince bold, able, ambitious, and
unscrupulous, on being invited by the pope and by a party election to wrest the
kingdom from his father-in-law, responded with an eagerness which hardly needed
the papal exhortation to disregard the ties of gratitude and of blood. Paul
had allowed Matthias to enter into a truce with the Turks, that he might be at
liberty to turn his arms against the Bohemians; and a war of devastation began.
George, on the other hand, had appealed to a general council and to a future pope;
and he endeavoured to give his cause a national rather than a sectarian
character, so that he still retained in office many persons whom he knew to be
zealous for the Roman side in matters of religion. The Germans in general were
little inclined to move. Some of the princes and prelates had consulted
universities on the question whether it were right for Christians to make war
on heretics, and especially to attack the utraquists of Bohemia; and the answer
had been in the negative. But when the formal condemnation came from Rome, many
students of Leipzig and Erfurt, excited at once by the ill-repute of Bohemia as
a nest of heresy, and by a youthful love of adventure, sold their books, and
even their clothes, to fit themselves out for the new crusade.
Although opposed to Matthias, to the
catholic league of nobles, and to hosts of crusaders from foreign countries,
George was for the most part successful in the war; and he was able to drive
Matthias out of Bohemia. But at length the weight of years and weariness of
conflict induced him to seek a compromise with Rome. Before the effect of this
application could be known, the king died on the 22nd of March, 1471, having
survived exactly a month after the death of Rokyczana.
CHAPTER IV.
SIXTUS IV. AND
INNOCENT VIII.
A.D. 1471-1492.
While the popes were endeavouring, with
but little success, to rouse the nations of Europe for the recovery of the east
from the Mussulmans, important changes were in progress, which tended to
strengthen the power of the crown in various western kingdoms. In England, this
was the effect of Henry VII’s policy, following on the destruction which had
been wrought among the ancient nobility by the long and bloody wars of the
Roses. In France, Lewis XI was able to curb the nobles and the princes of the
blood, and acquired the direct sovereignty over provinces which, under the
forms of feudal tenure, had before been practically independent; and his son,
Charles VIII, completed this work by marrying Anne, the heiress of Brittany (1491).
In Spain, the kingdoms of Aragon and Castile were united by the marriage of
Ferdinand and Isabella; and the conquest of Granada by the “catholic
sovereigns” extirpated the last remnant of the Moorish dominion. By these
changes Spain rose for the first time to a place among the chief powers of
Europe.
The empire, indeed, was still under
the impotent rule of Frederick III., who had even the mortification of seeing
that his neighbours, George Podiebrad of Bohemia, and Matthias Corvinus of
Hungary—men raised from a lower rank to the sovereignty of countries to which
he supposed himself to have a better title—were more powerful than he. Yet
during this time the foundation of the greatness of Austria was laid by the
marriage of his son Maximilian with Mary, the only daughter and heiress of
Charles “the Bold” duke of Burgundy.
After the death of Paul II the
cardinals assembled on the 6th of August 1471. Again it seemed as if Bessarion
were likely to be elected; but the younger members of the college dreaded the
severity of his character, and the election fell on Francis della Rovere,
cardinal of St. Peter ad Vincula, who took the name of Sixtus IV. The voters
who had contributed to this result were liberally rewarded for their support
with offices and ecclesiastical benefices.
The new pope was born near Savona,
in 1414. His descent was afterwards traced to a noble Piedmontese family of the
same name, and when he had risen to greatness, these were willing to admit the
connexion; but it seems to be certain that his origin was really very humble.
He had taught theology and philosophy in several universities, had become
minister-general of the Franciscan order, and through the friendly influence of
Bessarion had been promoted to the cardinalate in 1467. He had published
several works by means of the new art of printing—among them, one treating of a
question which had raised violent quarrels between his own order and the
Dominicans—whether the Saviour’s blood, which had been shed in his last sufferings,
remained in union with the Godhead during the interval between his death and
resurrection.
Like other popes of the age, Sixtus,
at entering on his office, professed a great zeal for the war against the
Turks, declaring that he was willing to spend not only his money, but his blood
in the cause of Christendom. It was proposed that a general council of
Christian powers should be held with a view to a crusade, but, as the pope and
the emperor were unable to agree as to the place of meeting, Sixtus sent
cardinal-legates into the chief European kingdoms, for the purpose of
conferring with the sovereigns on the design, and of establishing peace among
them. For the legation to France, Bessarion was chosen, at the desire of Lewis
XI himself, who was acquainted with the Greek cardinal’s fame. But Lewis took
offence, either at his having visited the court of Burgundy before that of the
suzerain, or at his having desired the release of cardinal Balue, who, from
having been the king’s most trusted counsellor, had suddenly fallen into
disgrace, and for years had been confined in an iron cage within the castle of
Loches. The legate had to wait two months for an audience; and when he was at
length admitted into the royal presence, Lewis turned the scene into a farce by
laying hold of his long beard, and quoting a verse of the Latin Grammar :—
“Barbara Graeca genus retinent quod habere solebant.”
It is said that vexation at the
failure of this mission was the cause of Bessarion’s death, which took place at
Ravenna, as he was on his way back to Rome. The legates who were sent into
Germany and other countries met with no considerable success; and although some
ships were sent into the east by the pope and the Venetian republic, the
results were unimportant.
But the objects in which Sixtus felt
the greatest interest lay nearer home. With his pontificate the papacy enters
on a new phase, in which it appears chiefly as a great secular power, to which
the spiritual character was merely attached as an accident. The system of
providing for the pope’s near kindred by high ecclesiastical dignities, or by
the lucrative offices of the court, is no longer found sufficient, but the
“nepotism” (as it was called) of the popes now aims at the establishment of
their relations as sovereign princes; and even where such schemes of territorial
aggrandizement are not carried out, the “nephews” become founders of great and
wealthy families, which are decorated with high titles of dignity, and rank as
a new power in the Roman system, counterbalancing that of the cardinals. The
excessive devotion of Sixtus to the interests of his family was shown as early
as the first consistory of his pontificate, when, in defiance of the
capitulations which he had subscribed at his election, he bestowed the
cardinalate on two of his nephews, Julian della Rovere and Peter Riario—young
men of humble birth, who had been educated as Franciscans, but speedily threw
off the restraints of their monastic profession. Julian, indeed, although his
habits of life were by no means strict, maintained the dignity of his office,
and continued to be prominent under the succeeding popes, until he himself at
length attained the papacy. But Peter Riario, on whom his uncle heaped a
prodigious accumulation of dignities and wealth (including the archbishopric of
Florence and the titular patriarchate of Constantinople), plunged into excesses
of prodigality and debauchery, which absorbed much more than. the vast income
of his preferments, and within two years brought his life to an end, at the
age of twenty-eight. Sixtus is said to have lamented him with demonstrations of
the deepest grief, and commemorated him by an epitaph in which his extravagance
is exalted into a virtue.
Other relations of the pope were
brought forward, and by means of some of them he endeavoured to connect himself
with royal or princely families. One nephew married a daughter of the count of
Urbino, and was provided with an endowment by the pope, while the count was
rewarded with the title of duke. Another, who is described as “a very little
man, and of intellect corresponding to his person,” married an illegitimate
daughter of king Ferdinand of Naples; and in consideration of this alliance,
Sixtus commuted for a white horse the tribute by which Naples was held under
the apostolic see. But the most conspicuous of the lay nephews was Jerome
Riario, who, like his brother cardinal Peter, was supposed to be in reality the
pope’s son. Jerome, who according to some writers had been a cobbler in early
life, but appears rather to have been a clerk in the tax-office at Savona, was
summoned to Rome on the death of his brother, and succeeded to the favour which
the cardinal had enjoyed. The pope endowed him out of the possessions of the
church with Imola, Forli, and other territories, and procured for him the hand
of Catharine Sforza, an illegitimate daughter of Galeazzo of Milan, whose
consent to the marriage was rewarded by the promotion of his son Ascanius to
the cardinalate. With a view to the advancement of his relations, the pope
plunged deeply into the intricacies of Italian politics; and for the same
purpose he had recourse to all manner of disgraceful arts for raising money.
Preferments, even to the highest ranks in the hierarchy, were openly sold,
without regard to the qualifications of the purchaser; promises of preferment
were often broken, and those who had paid for them were cheated out of their
money. New offices of court employment—some of them bearing oriental titles,
such as Janissaries, Stradiots, Mamelukes,—were instituted for the purpose of
sale. The college of abbreviators was revived, and the appointments to it were
sold. The administration of justice was vitiated by the sale of pardons, even
for capital offences. The pope’s taxation was oppressive; and the arts which he
practised as to the market prices of provisions are said to have produced in
some cases a famine among his subjects.
The jubilee, which Paul II had
appointed to take place in 1475—twenty-five years from the last celebration—was
eagerly caught at by Sixtus as a means of gathering money. But the number of
pilgrims and the amount of their offerings fell greatly short of the former
jubilees—partly, it is said, because a pestilence was raging at the time, and
partly because the pope’s evil repute had made its way even into distant
countries. The personal character of Sixtus is painted by Stephen of Infessura
in the darkest colours. He is charged with unnatural vices, and with abuse of
his patronage in favour of those who ministered to his depravity; he is
described as vainglorious, avaricious, pitiless, delighting in cruel
spectacles. Under him, merit was discouraged, as it was no longer a help to
preferment; he is said to have hated men of letters, and to have checked the
cultivation of learning by withdrawing the salaries of professorships. But on
the other hand he did much for the increase of the Vatican library, which he
placed under the care of the biographer Platina.
In one instance the eagerness of
Sixtus to promote the interests of his family led him to become an accomplice
in a great and atrocious crime.
The government of Florence, although
its constitution was still republican, had passed chiefly into the hands of
Cosmo de’ Medici, whose munificent employment of his wealth on public objects,
and in the encouragement of literature and the arts, procured for him great
influence in his own time, both at home and abroad, and a high reputation with
posterity. At his death, in 1464, Cosmo was succeeded in the headship of the
family by his son Peter, who died in December 1469, leaving two sons—Lorenzo
and Julian. Cosmo, while he possessed the reality of power, had always
studiously preserved the character of a citizen; but his descendants had come
to regard themselves as princes, and to disregard the republican constitution.
As they still kept up the mercantile establishment by which the greatness of
their family had been founded, their agents in various countries assumed the
pretensions of ministers; their commercial affairs suffered from negligence and
wasteful mismanagement; and Lorenzo unscrupulously used the public funds to
cover the deficiencies which naturally followed. At the same time he was
careful to remove from his path, by procuring their banishment or otherwise,
all who could have stood in the way of the ascendency of his family. Among
these the most prominent were the Pazzi, a family of nobles who, like the
Medici, were engaged in trade, and whom Cosmo had endeavoured to conciliate by
means of matrimonial connexions. Francis Pazzi, in disgust at the exclusion of
his kindred from the magistracy, and at other public and private wrongs which
he traced to the influence of the Medici, removed from Florence to Rome, where
he undertook the management of a bank established by the family; and to him
Sixtus transferred the care of the papal accounts, which from the time of
Nicolas V had been in the hands of the Medici. The pope’s nephew, count Jerome
Riario, who had found the Medici an obstacle in the way of his ambition, was
allied with the Pazzi by a common hatred; and a plot was concerted for the
assassination of Lorenzo and Julian, with the design of effecting a revolution
in favour of their enemies. The pope was privy to the conspiracy, and, although
he professed to desire no bloodshed, he plainly signified that, if murder
should be perpetrated in the execution of it, the crime would meet with his
indulgence.
John Baptist of Montesecco, a
condottiere in the papal service, was sent by Jerome to Florence, ostensibly on
a mission to Lorenzo, but really in order that he might take part in the
intended assassination. The assistance of all the pope’s forces was promised;
and Raphael Riario, the pope’s great-nephew, who had just been made cardinal at
the age of eighteen, was transferred from the university of Pisa to Florence,
with the character of legate, chiefly in order that his palace might serve to
harbour such of the conspirators as were strangers to the city. The young
cardinal was charged to be guided by the directions of Bartholomew Salviati,
who had been consecrated by the pope as archbishop of Pisa, but had been
excluded from his see through the influence of his hereditary enemies, the
Medici. When, however, after some other plans had been disconcerted by various
accidents, it was resolved that the assassination should be perpetrated in the
cathedral, the conscience of the condottiere Montesecco took alarm; he declared
that he would not add sacrilege to treachery; and it became necessary to
transfer the task of despatching Lorenzo to two priests, whose reverence for
sacred things had been blunted by familiarity.
On Sunday the 26th of April, at the
moment of the elevation of the host at high mass in the cathedral of Florence,
the assassins fell on the brothers. Julian was slain on the spot; but Lorenzo,
although slightly wounded, was able to escape into the sacristy, and was saved
from his pursuers. The conspirators rushed into the streets, and raised shouts
of ‘‘Liberty! the people!”, but instead of responding to these cries, the citizens,
whom the Medici had gained by their profuse liberality and their magnificent
displays, rose in their defence. Some of the Pazzi and their accomplices were
torn to pieces by the multitude; the archbishop of Pisa and Francis de’ Pazzi,
who had endeavoured to seize the public palace and to overpower the
magistrates, were hung from the palace windows by order of the gonfaloniere;
the members of the Pazzi family were sought out everywhere, and many of them
and of their adherents were executed. Montesecco, on being put to the torture,
made disclosures which showed how deeply the pope had been concerned in the
plot. Sixtus did not hesitate to show his partisanship by declaring Lorenzo de’
Medici and the magistrates of Florence to be guilty of treason and sacrilege,
to be excommunicate, anathematized, infamous, outlawed, and incapable of making
a testament. He ordered their houses to be demolished, their property to be
confiscated; and Florence was to be placed under interdict, unless they were
forthwith made over to the ecclesiastical tribunals, for having laid hands on
the archbishop of Pisa and other ecclesiastics. In execution of the pope’s
threat, the money of Florentine bankers was seized both at Rome and at Naples;
and Sixtus, in concert with king Ferdinand, threw troops into the Florentine
territory. The Florentines attempted to appease his wrath, and were willing to
acknowledge their fault; but finding him implacable, they resolved to stand on
their defence. They wrote to the pope, strongly denouncing his conduct, and
plainly charging him with having employed assassins. They put forth a
vindication, in which Montesecco’s confession was embodied; and by the
circulation of this document, with other letters, they endeavoured to
bespeak the sympathy of foreign potentates and prelates. After having consulted
eminent canonists, they compelled the priests within their territories to say
mass, in defiance of the papal sentence; and a synod of ecclesiastics, under
the presidency of Gentile, bishop of Arezzo, repelled the excommunication,
declared the pope himself to be excommunicate for having unjustly uttered it,
and appealed against him to a general council.
The common feeling throughout Europe
was adverse to Sixtus. The emperor and other princes threatened to withdraw
from his obedience if he persisted in an unjust war. Lewis of France, who had
special connexions with the Medici, spoke of assembling a general council by
the authority of princes, if the pope’s consent were not to be obtained; he
threatened to revive the pragmatic sanction in all its force, and to stop the
payment of annates from his dominions, on the ground that the funds which were
levied for war against the infidels were employed against Christians, or went
to enrich the pope’s nephew Jerome.
Meanwhile the Florentines were hard
pressed by the combined forces of the pope and of king Ferdinand, under the
command of the king’s son Alfonso, duke of Calabria. They requested Ferdinand
to state his terms of peace, but found them too humiliating; whereupon Lorenzo,
in his distress, ventured on the bold expedient of going in person to Naples,
where, by the power of his discourse, and by his representations as to the
true interest of the kingdom, he was able to convert Ferdinand from an enemy
into an ally. On the 6th of March 1480, an alliance was concluded between
Naples and the Florentine republic, to the great indignation of the Venetians
and of the pope.
While Italy was thus distracted, the
Turks advanced in their career of conquest. They took Otranto, where 12,000 out
of 22,000 inhabitants were put to the sword, and revolting acts of cruelty,
outrage and profanity were committed; and they laid siege to Rhodes, which was
defended by the knights of St. John. It was evident that they aimed at Rome,
and terrible stories were told of vows which Mahomet had made for the ruin of
Christendom. Sixtus was so greatly alarmed that he spoke of retiring to
Avignon; he issued urgent bulls for the crusade; he declared that he would even
give his golden crown and the ornaments of his palace towards the expenses of
the holy war, and the fear of the infidels prevailed with him to grant peace
and absolution to the Florentines. This was not, however, to be done without
formalities suitable to the greatness of his pretensions; and the Florentines
were not in a condition to dispute about such matters. Twelve of the most
eminent citizens, with the bishop of Volterra at their head, appeared at Rome
as representatives of the republic. They were admitted within the gates in the
dark, and without any of the marks of honour which were usually bestowed on
ambassadors; and, having expressed their penitence and their desire of
reconciliation, they were on Advent Sunday brought into the presence of the
pope, who was seated on a lofty throne in the portico of St. Peter’s. He
addressed to them a rebuke “full of pride and anger” for the disobedience of
which their countrymen had been guilty; and as they knelt before him, he
lightly applied a rod to the shoulders of each, and chanted the verses of the
Miserere alternately with the cardinals. The envoys were then admitted to kiss
his feet and receive his blessing; the doors of the church were thrown open,
and the pope was carried into it in state, and seated on the high altar.
The Florentines bound themselves to
contribute a certain number of galleys for the Turkish war; and a force of
papal and Neapolitan troops was sent to attempt the recovery of Otranto. The
death of Mahomet “the Conqueror” (as his people styled him), and the contest
which followed between his sons, prevented the reinforcement of the garrison;
and the Turks, after having held the place for somewhat less than a year, were
forced to capitulate to the duke of Calabria.
By this success the pope was
extravagantly elated, and he plunged afresh into war, chiefly for the purpose
of gaining Ferrara for his nephew Jerome. In conjunction with the Venetians,
his troops contended with those of Naples, which, under the duke of Calabria,
advanced to the very gates of Rome, until king Ferdinand contrived by large
offers to gain Jerome to his side, and Sixtus, under his nephew’s influence,
was led to enter into a Neapolitan alliance in exchange for that of Venice. He
now invited the Venetians to join the league with a view to the pacification of
Italy; and on refusal he sent forth bulls denouncing the heaviest punishments
against them. Venice was placed under interdict; the chiefs of the republic
were excommunicated ; all monks were charged to quit its territory; the offices
of religion were to cease, without even the exception of communion on the bed
of death; and there were the usual disabilities as to intercourse with faithful
Christians, and other secular penalties by which the popes attempted to
increase the spiritual terrors of their sentences. But the Venetians, whose
subjection to the papacy was never very absolute, after having consulted
learned jurists of Padua, took vigorous measures in opposition to the pope. The
council of Ten ordered that a strict watch should be kept to prevent the introduction
of missives from Rome. They required the patriarch to deliver to them any such
document if it should reach him; and, through his compliance, they got
possession of the bulls, and were able to prevent the publication of them
within the territory of the republics They ordered the clergy to perform their
functions as usual, and banished some Franciscans who resisted the command.
They assembled all the bishops within their boundaries, and in their presence
appealed to a future general council; whereupon the assembly accepted the
appeal, and suspended the interdict. The titular patriarch of Constantinople,
who presided, ventured to cite the pope before the future council, and means
were found to post up the summons on the bridge of St Angelo, and even on the
doors of the Vatican. And in addition to the ecclesiastical appeal, the
Venetians entreated the princes of Christendom to give them an opportunity of
stating their grievances before a general congress.
The war was continued, and in
addition to it the old feuds between the anti-papal Colonna and Savelli
families on the one side, and the Orsini, who were favoured by the pope, on the
other side, raged with a fury which desolated the country around Rome.
A peace was at length concluded
between Naples and Venice at Bagnolo. In this agreement there was no
reservation for the benefit of Jerome Riario; and the pope, who was already ill
when the tidings of it reached him, was so deeply mortified by its terms that
his vexation is supposed to have caused his death, which took place on the
fifth day after the date of the treaty.
In the city of Rome the pontificate
of Sixtus was marked by much building and rebuilding, in the course of which,
however, it is to be lamented that there was great destruction, not only of
classical remains, but of venerable churches which had come down from the early
centuries of Christianity. His name is still preserved by the Janiculan bridge,
which he rebuilt, and by the chapel in the Vatican, which derives its chief
fame from the grandeur of the decorations afterwards added by Michael Angelo.
But perhaps more important than any individual buildings were his labours to
render the city more habitable by paving and widening the streets, and by
removing the porticoes and other projections which Ferdinand of Naples, at the
Jubilee of 1475, pointed out to him as hindrances which prevented the popes
from being fully masters of Rome. The hostile Stephen of Infessura tells us
that Sixtus was followed to the tomb by the undisguised hatred and execrations
of his people.
The death of Lewis XI of France
preceded that of Sixtus by about a year (1483). At the instance of cardinal
Julian della Rovere, he had consented to release cardinal Balue, after an
imprisonment of fourteen years. In his last illness, when acute bodily
sufferings awoke within him remorse for his long life of sin and crime, and
rendered more intense the superstition which had always been a part of his
character, he gathered around him all the most famous relics which could be obtained,—among
them the holy phial, which had never before been removed from Reims since the
time (as was believed) of Clovis. He entreated the pope to send him any relics
which might relieve his agonies; and Sixtus complied with the request so liberally
that the Romans in alarm remonstrated lest their city should suffer by being
stripped of such treasures. He sent for hermits and other devotees of noted
sanctity, in the hope that their intercessions might prolong his life Of these
the most renowned was one Francis, a native of Paola, in Calabria. Francis, it
is said, was born with only one eye; but his mother vowed that, if the other
eye might be granted to him, he should wear the habit of St. Francis for a
year, at least, and her wish was fulfilled. He became a minorite friar, but,
like Peter of Murrone in an earlier time, he withdrew to live in a cave, and,
although utterly illiterate, was held in veneration for the austerity of his
life and for his reputation of miraculous power. Lewis, having heard his fame,
entreated the king of Naples and the pope that this holy man might be sent to
him. The hermit, after having refused a request from his sovereign, was
compelled by the pope’s authority to set out; and as he passed through Rome his
appearance produced a vast excitement. Sixtus granted him leave to found a
society of “Hermits of St. Francis,” and, with a view to the influence which he
might be able through such an agent to exercise on the mind of Lewis, admitted
him to long conferences. On reaching the French court, Francis was received
with as much honour ‘‘as if he had been the pope himself.” While others were
disposed to ridicule him, Lewis could not endure to be long without his
company; he knelt before him in abject superstition, hung on his words, and
entreated him to spare him yet a little, as if his life were at the hermit’s
disposal; he bestowed rich rewards on him, and, in order to propitiate him,
founded convents at Plessis and at Amboise for the new religious society, the
members of which, not content with the name of minorites, desired to signify
their profession of utter insignificance by styling themselves Minims.
Although Charles VIII, the son and
successor of Lewis, had attained his legal majority, the administration was for
some years in the hands of his sister Anne, a young princess of clear and firm
mind, and of her husband the lord of Beaujeu. The beginning of the reign was
marked by a manifestation of national spirit in opposition to the papacy. At
the first meeting of the estates there was much complaint as to Roman
exactions, and when memoirs for the redress of grievances were presented, the
first subject in that which related to ecclesiastical affairs was the restoration
of the pragmatic sanction. Some of the bishops, who were indebted to Rome for
their promotion, protested against the interference of the lay estates in such
a matter; but, although the pragmatic sanction was not mentioned in the royal
answer to the memorials, the parliaments of France continued to proceed as if
it
The fury of the Roman factions burst
forth with increased violence on the death of Sixtus, and the feelings of the
populace towards the late pope were displayed in outrages against his
favourites, his connexions, and his countrymen in general. The palace of Jerome
Riario was sacked; its gardens and ornaments laid waste; and the stores of the
Genoese merchants were plundered.
On the 26th of August—a fortnight
after the death of Sixtus—the cardinals proceeded to the election of a
successor. Intrigue was busy among them; and, according to the custom which
had grown up, and which Innocent VI had in vain attempted to suppress, they
endeavoured to secure advantages for themselves, and to prevent a recurrence of
some late abuses, by entering into capitulations. The future pope was pledged
to give one hundred gold florins monthly to every cardinal whose yearly income
was under four thousand, to refrain from making more than one cardinal of his
own family, and from entrusting to any of his kinsmen the fortresses of St.
Angelo, Civita Vecchia, and Tivoli; and in all weighty matters he was pledged
to take the advice of the sacred college. Borgia was so confident of success in
the election, that he barricaded his palace in order to protect it from the
spoliation which was usually committed on the dwelling of a new pope. But
Julian della Rovere and Ascanius Sforza exerted themselves in opposition to
him, and by special promises gained many votes for John Baptist Cibò, cardinal
of St. Cecilia and bishop of Melfi, who was chosen on the fourth day of the
conclave and took the name of Innocent VIII.
The family of Cibò was of Greek
origin, but had been long settled at Genoa and Naples. The pope’s father had
been viceroy of Naples under king Rene, and senator of Rome in the pontificate
of Calixtus III. Innocent was a man of handsome person and of popular manners.
His earlier life had been lax, and under him Rome saw the novel scandal of
seven illegitimate children, the offspring of different mothers, openly
produced as the pope’s family, and the objects of his paternal favour. But,
although Innocent may have wished to endow his son Francis with principalities,
after the manner of Sixtus IV, the only course which he found practicable was
that of enriching his children out of the revenues of the church; and for this
purpose, and to defray the costs of his war with Naples, he continued without
abatement the corrupt and simoniacal exactions of his predecessors. Offices
were created for the sake of the price which might be got by the sale of them;
and the purchasers sought to repay themselves by using their opportunities of
exaction. Two papal secretaries were detected in forging bulls; and as they
were unable to pay the sum which was demanded for a pardon, they were put to
death. With these abuses in the administration was combined an increased
licence of manners in the papal court, which did not fail to affect the habits
of the Romans in general.
Although Innocent, after his
election, had sworn a second time to the capitulations imposed by the cardinals,
and had become pledged neither to absolve himself nor to accept a release, he
held himself at liberty, when firmly established in his seat, to repudiate
these obligations as being contrary to the interests of the holy see. And
having promised to the Romans, with the other cardinals, and again after his
election, that he would bestow the more valuable Roman preferments on none but
citizens, he evaded the oath by admitting strangers to the freedom of the city,
and afterwards promoting them as if they were qualified according to his
promise. “But,” says the chronicler Stephen of Infessura, “it is no wonder if
he deceived the Roman people, since he had deceived Him to whom he had vowed
and promised chastity.” Throughout this pontificate Rome was distracted by the
feuds of the Colonna and Orsini factions. And in 1485 the pope increased the
disorders of his city by allowing all who had been banished, for whatever
cause, to return. In consequence of this, Rome became a haunt of villains of
every sort, who eagerly flocked to avail themselves of the papal clemency.
Robbery and murder were frequent; churches were plundered of their plate and
ornaments; every morning’s light discovered in the streets the bodies of men
who had been assassinated during the night; and the perpetrators of these
crimes found an asylum in the houses of cardinals. After a time, Innocent found
it necessary to proclaim that murderers and other criminals should leave the
city. But the spirit of his administration was expressed by the sarcastic
saying of a high officer, that “God willeth not the death of a sinner, but
rather that he should pay and live”. Immunity from all punishment was to be
bought, if only a sufficient price were offered.
Although Innocent had himself in
earlier life been in the service of the Neapolitan crown, he speedily found an
opportunity of quarrelling with Ferdinand, by requiring that tribute should be
paid for Naples as in former times, and by refusing to accept the white horse
for which Sixtus had commuted the payment. In order to maintain this claim
(which is supposed to have been connected with a project for the advancement of
his son Franceschetto) he allied himself with the disaffected Neapolitan
nobles, and put forward a grandson and namesake of king René as claimant of the
throne. In the war which followed, Ferdinand’s son, Alfonso, duke of Calabria,
occupied the Roman Campagna with his troops, and for months distressed the city
by cutting off all communications from outside; but at length a treaty was
concluded which was greatly in favour of the pope. The king was to pay tribute
to Rome; the barons were free to acknowledge the pope and the church as their
immediate lords; and the pope was to have in his own hands the disposal of
bishoprics and other dignities in the Neapolitan kingdom. But hardly had this
treaty been concluded when Ferdinand set its conditions at nought. He allowed
the tribute to fall into arrear; he assumed the entire patronage of sees within
his dominions; and, in defiance alike of honour and of humanity, he and his son
put to death many of the nobles whose safety had been solemnly promised. The
pope complained loudly as to the tribute; but, after some feeble remonstrances,
he did not venture to intercede for the allies who were exposed to the perfidy
and cruelty of Ferdinand and Alfonso. Hostilities again began, and were
prolonged for some years.
Innocent anathematized Ferdinand for
withholding the payment of tribute, and declared him to be deposed and the
kingdom to be forfeited to the Roman church; but in 1492 a fresh treaty was
concluded, on the same terms which had before been so little regarded.
In order to strengthen himself for
this contest, Innocent found it expedient to seek the alliance of Lorenzo de’
Medici, to whom he had formerly been opposed. He married his son Franceschetto
to a daughter of Lorenzo by his wife, Clarice Orsini; and bestowed the dignity
of cardinal on the Magnifico’s son John, who was then only thirteen years old.
The promotion was to be kept secret until the boy should be old enough to take
possession of his dignity; and when, at the age of sixteen, he repaired to Rome
for this purpose, he was received with the pomp which was usually reserved for
the visits of royal personages. Through his connexion with the Medici, Innocent was brought into friendly
relations with the Orsini, who had formerly been so violently opposed to him
that Virginius Orsini, a brother of Clarice, had threatened to throw him into
the Tiber.
Innocent, like his predecessors
since the fall of the eastern empire, projected a crusade against the Turks. In
the beginning of his pontificate he invited all Christian princes to take part
in such an expedition, and he afterwards entered into negotiations and
agreements for carrying it into effect; but without any considerable result.
The death of Mahomet II had been followed by a contest for the throne between
his sons Bajazet and Djem; the younger brother resting his claim on the fact
that he had been born after his father’s accession. On being defeated by his
brother, Djem took refuge in Rhodes with the knights of St. John, who
transferred him for safety to the care of their brethren in France. Great
offers were made by Bajazet to the order, in the hope of inducing them to put
Diem into his hands ; while the kings of France and Hungary, of Aragon and
Naples, and the sultan of Egypt, contended for him, with the view of setting
him at the head of an expedition against his brother. But the pope was
successful, and Djem, after a residence of more than six years in France, was
escorted by cardinal Balue to Rome, where he was received as a sovereign
prince, and was lodged in the Vatican palace. The master of the Hospitallers,
D’Aubusson, was rewarded for the surrender of his guest by being promoted to
the college of cardinals. At his first interview with the pope, Djem refused to
perform the usual homage, and could only be persuaded to kiss him on the
shoulder; and throughout his residence at Rome, he was careful to maintain his
pretensions to dignity. Bajazet renewed his offers for the possession of his
brother’s person, or for his death. It is said that at one time he employed an
Italian to destroy both Djem and the pope by poisoning the water of which they
drank; at another time he sent an ambassador to offer a yearly payment of
40,000 ducats for the maintenance and safe keeping of the prince; and this sum
was duly paid. In order further to propitiate the pope, Bajazet presented him
with a relic of extraordinary sanctity—the head of the lance which had pierced
the Saviour’s side. This gift was not the less valued because the sacred lance
was supposed to exist also at Paris, Nuremberg, and other places of the west;
and to this day it is revered as one of the four chief relics of St. Peter’s church.
While the project of a crusade
against the Mussulmans of the east remained unexecuted, the last remnant of the
Mahometan power in Spain was destroyed by the conquest of Granada, after a war
of twelve years. The exultation produced at Rome by the report of this success
was unbounded. The Spanish ambassador and the Spanish cardinal Borgia exhibited
bull-fights and other spectacles, and for several days distributed food and
wine to all who chose to apply.
Innocent VIII died, after a short
illness, on the 25th of July in the same year. It is said that an attempt was
made by a Jewish physician, although without the pope’s consent, to prolong his
life, by injecting into his veins the blood of three boys, whom their parents
sold with a view to the experiment; but, although it proved fatal to the
children, it was unavailing for the intended purpose.
Three months before the death of
Innocent, while Rome was engrossed by the reception of the young son of Lorenzo
de’ Medici into the college of cardinals, the festivities were interrupted by
the arrival of tidings that Lorenzo himself had died at his villa of Careggi,
near Florence; and the circumstances of his deathbed lead us to trace the
earlier history of a remarkable man, who, by the power of eloquence and by his earnest
zeal for religion and morality, had acquired an extraordinary influence in that
city.
Jerome Savonarola was born in 1452
at Ferrara, where his grandfather, a native of Padua, had settled as physician
to the court. It was the wish of the family that Jerome should follow the same
profession; but he preferred the study of theology, philosophy, and poetry. At
the age of twenty-two, he was induced by the preaching of a friar, by some
visions with which he supposed himself to be favoured, and by disgust at the
wickedness and disorder of the world, to enter into the Dominican Order—to
which he was especially inclined by his reverence for its great teacher,
Thomas of Aquino. To the study of Aquinas he now added that of Cassian and
other ascetic writers; but, above all, he devoted himself to the Holy
Scriptures, of which his knowledge became very great, although he appears to
have carried to an excess the caprices of the allegorical system of
interpretation. After having spent seven years in the convent of Bologna, he
was removed by his superiors to St. Mark’s, at Florence—a monastery which but a
few years before had been governed by the saintly archbishop Antoninus, while
its walls were adorned by the pencil of the “angelical” painter of Fiesole. But
already its discipline had grievously decayed; and Savonarola, when after
some years he was elected prior, found it necessary to correct by strict and
searching reforms a state of luxury and worldliness altogether inconsistent
with the institutions of St. Dominic.
After some unpromising efforts, and
notwithstanding serious natural disqualifications, Savonarola had burst forth
into unequalled power as a preacher; and the vast cathedral of Florence was
crowded by multitudes who eagerly hung on his words. His fervid and fluent
language, his passionate gestures, his eyes glowing with enthusiasm, seemed to
indicate a man possessed by the convictions which he expressed, and authorized
to speak in the name of God. The chief aim of his preaching was to rouse men
from the chill indifference to spiritual things which marked the character of
the age, and was especially conspicuous amidst the material prosperity and the
literary and artistic culture of the Florentines. He denounced the sins of all
classes, including the prelates and clergy—as to whom he declared that the
church had once had golden priests and wooden chalices, but that now the
chalices were of gold and the priests were wooden—that the outward splendour of
religion had been hurtful to spirituality. He was fond of expounding the
Apocalypse, and confidently foretold chastisements as being near at hand.
According to words revealed to him in a vision, the sword of the Lord was to
come on the earth speedily and swiftly. A new Cyrus was to descend on Italy
from beyond the Alps; the church was to be scourged and was to be renewed. In
part, these prophecies did not pretend to be more than the result of a firm
belief in a Divine government of the world, carried on according to the
principles declared in the Holy Scriptures—a conviction that, as offences had
been committed, the threatened punishments would surely ensue; and as to this,
Savonarola’s error consisted in assuming too certainly the time when the
punishment was to come. But in part his utterances claimed a higher source; for
from an early stage of his monastic life he had supposed himself to be favoured
with visions and revelations, communicated to his mind by angels, and
commissioned to announce the designs of God to men. As some of his predictions
were fulfilled, the general belief in him increased;1his followers spoke of him
as “the prophet”; and by means of the press his writings and his fame were
carried not only throughout Italy, but far beyond its borders. There were
stories as to his being rapt from his senses while praying; that his face had
been seen to shine with a celestial light; that he had contests with evil
spirits.
To the family of Medici, Savonarola
was inflexibly hostile. Himself a zealous republican, he regarded them as
usurpers of the liberty of Florence; and he viewed with disgust and indignation
the gross licentiousness and the pagan tendencies which were combined in
Lorenzo with refinement of manners and high culture of tastes for literature
and art. He refused to pay some marks of respect by which the priors of St.
Mark’s had been accustomed to acknowledge the favours bestowed on their house
by the Medicean family. The attempts of Lorenzo to alarm or to conciliate him
were vain; but when at length the Magnifico felt the approach of death, and
when, amidst the terrors of his aroused conscience, he found himself unable to
trust the spiritual counsels of his chaplains, he eagerly requested a visit
from the friar who, alone of all the clergy, had spoken to him with
unflattering frankness. He professed especial remorse for three things—the
cruelties committed in the sack of Volterra; his interference with the funds of
a bank instituted for the benefit of young women, of whom many had in
consequence of his acts been driven to a life of vice; and the bloodshed which
had taken place on account of the Pazzian conspiracy. To his request for
absolution Savonarola replied by assurances of the Divine mercy and goodness;
but it is said that he in his turn required of the penitent three things—that
he should have a living faith in God’s will and power to forgive; that he
should restore all he had unjustly taken; and that he should re-establish the
republican liberties of Florence. As to the first of these conditions, Lorenzo
made the required profession; and to the second he consented, although with
some reluctance. But when Savonarola, rising from his seat, enounced the last
demand with the sternness of a prophet, the dying man, gathering up his
remaining strength, turned his back on the friar; and Savonarola left him
unabsolved.
CHAPTER V.
ALEXANDER THE SIXTH.
A.D. 1492-1503.
The death of Innocent was followed by
disturbances such as had become usual during a vacancy of the popedom. The
whole country around Rome was in arms; within the city itself it is said that
two hundred and twenty persons were slain. The cardinals met for the election
of a successor in the Sixtine chapel on the 6th of August. The practice of
intrigue had been common on such occasions; but the manner in which members of
the college now put themselves forward as candidates was without example. Among
these the most prominent were Roderick Borgia, whose seniority, wealth, and
frequent employment in the most important business of the church, gave weight
to his pretensions; Ascanius Sforza, son of the great condottiere who had
founded a new dynasty in the dukedom of Milan; and Julian della Rovere, the
nephew of Sixtus IV. Although experience had amply proved the inefficacy of
capitulations, an attempt was once more made to bind the future pope by
engagements of this kind; among other things, he was required to promise that
he would not make any cardinals without the consent of the existing members of
the body.
The conclave was of unusual
duration. Much bribery was practised. Sforza, after having ascertained that his
own chance of election was little or none, transferred his interest to Borgia;
and it is said that all the cardinals, except della Rovere, Piccolomini, and
three others, were bought by the promise of money or preferments. At length, on
the fifth night, the deliberations of the cardinals resulted in the election
of Borgia, who exclaimed “I am pope, pontiff, and vicar of Christ!” and hastily
put on the papal mantle, as if to assure himself of the reality of his success.
The name which he took was Alexander VI.
Within a few days, Sforza, according
to compact, received the office of vice-chancellor, which Borgia had held,
together with his palace, and some churches and castles; while the preferments
accumulated on other members of the college attested the value of their
support, and the means by which it had been secured. But the consciousness of
having attained his dignity by arts which might have vitiated the election—the
dread of any inquiry, by a general council or any other tribunal, into the
circumstances of his elevation—hung as a weight on the pope all his days, and
affected his course of conduct.
Roderick Borgia (whose change of
surname has been already mentioned) was born in 1431 at Valencia, of a family
belonging to the lower grade of nobles. He had studied at Bologna, and in early
life had been an advocate and also a soldier. To his uncle Calixtus III he was
indebted for rapid ecclesiastical promotion; he became cardinal, archbishop of
his native city, vice-chancellor of the Roman church; and his support of Sixtus
IV at his election had procured for him the abbacy of Subiaco. By these
preferments, and by inheritance from Calixtus, he had become very wealthy; and
a mission as legate to Spain, for the purpose of gathering money for the
crusade, had considerably increased his riches, although it had not improved
his reputation. He was more esteemed for eloquence than for learning, but was
especially noted for the craft, the perseverance, and the fertility of
resources which marked his character as a negotiator. Fond as he was of
pleasure, he never allowed the pursuit of it to interfere with business, to
which he often devoted a large part of the night. And, although he hesitated at
no crime for the attainment of his objects, he is praised for the placability
of his disposition, and for the patience with which he overcame the enmity of
opponents..
In the earlier years of his
ecclesiastical life, Borgia made great professions of piety and charity,
visiting churches and hospitals, and distinguishing himself by the largeness of
his almsgiving. One of the first indications of the qualities for which he
afterwards became infamous is found in a letter of severe reproof which Pius
II, while sojourning at the baths of Petrioli after the council of Mantua,
addressed to him on account of his having witnessed, if he did not even join
in, some dancing which is described as indecent, in a garden at Siena. At a
later time—probably about 1470 —he entered into a connexion with a woman named Vanozza
de’ Catanei, whom he regarded as a sort of wife, while he provided her with two
husbands in succession, and found places for these men in some of the
government offices. By Vanozza he became the father of five children, of whom
three sons and a daughter were alive at the time of his elevation to the
papacy. Yet it would seem that thus far Borgia’s laxity of morals had not in
any remarkable degree exceeded such licence as the age allowed. His palace had
not, like those of some other cardinals, been notoriously defiled by scandalous
revels; nor was it until he had been raised to the most sacred office in
Christendom that his infamy became conspicuous and signal.
The report of Alexander’s election
excited various feelings. By some of the Romans, who looked to his dignified
presence, his wealth, his expensive tastes, and who expected a splendid
pontificate, the tidings were received with joy, and he was extolled in verses
to which his later life gives the character of the bitterest satire. But those
who saw farther into his character—among them the sovereigns of his native
Spain—regarded his promotion with alarm; and Ferdinand of Naples, who,
notwithstanding his treachery, cruelty, and other vices, was regarded as the
wisest statesman of the age, is said to have shown his knowledge of Alexander
by bursting into tears.
The spirit of secular ambition, and
the undisguised licentiousness, which had been more and more displayed during
the late pontificates, were now carried to a monstrous excess. For the first time
the bastards of a pope were brought forward as his acknowledged children; and
the violence of his affection for them carried him into crimes of many sorts,
tempted him to disturb the peace of the world, to make Italy, which for many
years had enjoyed a tranquil prosperity such as had never before been known, a
scene of violence and bloodshed, and to invite the fatal interference of
foreign nations in her affairs.
For his eldest son, Peter Lewis, who
died before Alexander’s elevation to the papacy, he had obtained from the king
of Spain the title of duke of Gandia, which passed to the next brother, John.
The third son, Caesar, was designed for the ecclesiastical profession, and was
a student at Pisa, when a courier announced to him his father’s elevation to
the papacy. On receiving the news, Caesar at once set out for Rome, where the
pope received him with affection, but is said to have addressed to him a formal
speech, in which, after adverting to the discredit which the first Borgia pope
had incurred by his nepotism, he warned him that he must expect no promotion
except such as his merits should justify. The hypocrisy of such a declaration
was forthwith shown by Alexander’s promoting, in his first consistory, a
nephew to be archbishop of Monreale and cardinal; and three other Borgias,
besides Caesar, were afterwards raised to the cardinalate, while other
relations of the pope were thrust into all manner of offices and preferments.
On Caesar himself his father at once bestowed the bishopric of Pampeluna (which
Innocent had designed for him), and to this he added, on the day of his
coronation, his own archbishopric of Valencia. In the following year, he made
him a cardinal; and as illegitimacy would have been a bar to such a promotion,
the pope suborned false witnesses to swear that Caesar was the lawful offspring
of Vanozza by her first husband.
The pope’s daughter, the beautiful
Lucretia, who was in her fifteenth year, had been some time betrothed to a son
of the count of Aversa; but Alexander, whose ambition had risen with his
fortunes, now bribed him to sue for a dissolution of the engagement, in order
that Lucretia might marry a suitor of more powerful connexions—Alexander
Sforza, illegitimate son of the lord of Pesaro, and great-nephew of the first duke
Sforza of Milan. The marriage was celebrated in the Belvedere, which had been
added to the Vatican by Innocent VIII; and it was followed by a banquet, at
which cardinals and other high ecclesiastical dignitaries sat promiscuously
with ladies, and by the performance of comedies and other amusements, which
lasted far into the night. Among the party was Julia Farnese, known as “la
Bella” a married woman, for whose sake Alexander made her brother a cardinal;
and the chronicler who describes the scene speaks indignantly of the effect
which the examples of Innocent and Alexander had produced on the morals of the
clergy, and even of the monastic orders.
For his youngest son, Geoffrey, the
pope planned a marriage with a daughter of Alfonso, duke of Calabria. The
duke’s father, king Ferdinand, was willing to consent to this marriage, but
Alfonso himself was strongly opposed to it; and by this disappointment the pope
was thrown into other connexions, which were full of disaster for Italy.
Lewis Sforza, who from his swarthy
complexion was styled the Moor, a man of deep ambition and perfidy,
administered the government of Milan in the name of his nephew, John Galeazzo,
whom it is said that, for the sake of retaining power in his own hands, he
allowed to grow up without any such training as might have fitted him for the
duties of his position. Lewis projected a national league of the Italian
powers, for the purpose of preserving their country from foreign rule, and
endeavoured to gain the pope’s co-operation but, finding that a special
alliance had been concluded between Alexander, the king of Naples, and the
Florentine republic, he was led by jealousy to invite Charles VIII of France
into Italy, for the purpose of asserting a claim to the Neapolitan crown,
which had been bequeathed by the last count of Provence to Lewis XI; and the
conquest of Naples was represented as a step towards the recovery of
Constantinople and Jerusalem from the infidels. The proposal was well fitted to
attract the young king, who, although weak, sickly, and almost deformed in
person, and yet more feeble in mind, had his imagination filled with visions of
chivalrous and crusading exploits and renown. His wisest counsellors—such as
his sister, the lady of Beaujeu, and Philip de Comines—endeavoured to dissuade
him from undertaking an expedition into Italy, and urged him to accept the
offers made by Ferdinand of Naples to hold the kingdom as tributary to the
crown of France. But Charles listened to advisers of another kind—to Neapolitan
exiles who were eager for vengeance on the Aragonese dynasty, and to his
kinsman Lewis, duke of Orleans, who wished to use the king’s ambition for the
furtherance of his own designs on Italy. He dismissed the Neapolitan
ambassadors, and prepared for an expedition to Italy by making peace, on
disadvantageous terms, with the kings of England and of Spain, and with
Maximilian, who had lately succeeded his father Frederick as emperor.
The expectation of a French invasion
brought about a connexion between the reigning dynasty of Naples and the pope.
It was arranged that the youngest Borgia, Geoffrey, who was only twelve or
thirteen years of age, should marry Sancha, an illegitimate daughter of the
duke of Calabria; that he should receive the principality of Squillace, with
other territory, and should be appointed lieutenant of the kingdom; that the
duke of Gandia should be nominated to one of the chief offices, and that Caesar
Borgia should receive high ecclesiastical preferment at Naples; while, on the
other hand, the tribute payable by the Neapolitan crown to the papacy was to be
reduced. Ferdinand died on the 25th of January, 1494, and it is believed that
was hastened by the French king’s rejection of his offers. His successor,
Alfonso, who was eminent as a general, but was even more treacherous and cruel
than his father, was crowned by the cardinal-archbishop of Monreale, and the
marriage of Geoffrey Borgia with Sancha was celebrated at the same time. In
their alarm, Alfonso and the pope applied for assistance to the Turkish sultan,
whom they endeavoured to move by representing that the French king avowedly
looked on Naples as only a stepping-stone towards Constantinople; but they
failed to obtain any effective assistance. To ambassadors who urged the claim
of Charles to Naples, Alexander replied that the kingdom was a fief of the holy
see, and could be disposed of only by the pope; that the Aragonese princes had
been invested in it, and that he could not dispossess them unless another claim
could be shown to be stronger than theirs. And he threatened to pronounce the
censures of the church if Charles should cross the Alps.
Charles had advanced as far as
Lyons, where he remained a considerable time, engaged in tournaments and in
voluptuous enjoyments. It was still uncertain whether the expedition to Italy
were to take place, when the king’s vacillating mind was determined by the
arrival of cardinal Julian della Rovere, the implacable enemy Of Alexander.
After the election of the pope, Julian had withdrawn to the fortress of Ostia,
where he was besieged and at length driven out. Alexander had attempted to
conciliate him; but Julian declared that he would never again trust a Catalan;
and, from having been the most zealous partisan of Naples in the college of
cardinals, he transferred himself to the French interest in consequence of the
pope’s having entered into a connexion with Alfonso. Arriving at Lyons when the
king’s plans were altogether uncertain, his strong and impetuous eloquence, and
the freedom with which he represented the disgrace of abandoning the
enterprise, determined Charles to proceed; and in the end of August the king
crossed the Alps at the head of a gallant, although undisciplined army. The
money which he had raised, including a large loan from his Milanese ally, had
been spent on the gaieties of Lyons, and on a fleet which was not turned to any
account; and already his difficulties were such that he borrowed jewels from
the duchess of Savoy and the marchioness of Montferrat, in order that he might
procure money by pledging them.
After a stay of some weeks at Asti,
which belonged to the duke of Orleans, Charles moved onwards. At Milan he saw
the young duke, John Galeazzo; but this unfortunate prince died almost immediately
afterwards, and, although he left a son five years old, Louis the Moor, who was
suspected of having caused his nephew’s death, assumed the ducal title. As
Charles approached Florence, Peter de’ Medici, who had conceived the idea of
imitating his father Lorenzo’s venturous and successful visit to Naples,
appeared in the French camp, and, although others had been joined with him in
the mission, he took it on himself to conclude a treaty by which four of the
strongest places belonging to the republic were given up to France. Peter, who
had been only twenty-one years old at the time of his father’s death, had
already made himself obnoxious to the Florentines by his incapacity, his
frivolity, his pride, his irregularities, and other faults; and the result of
his negotiations with Charles exasperated them to such a degree that, on his
return to the city, he and his brothers were driven into exile. The eloquence
of Savonarola, who spoke of the “new Cyrus” as an instrument of Divine
vengeance for the sins of the Italians, instead of rousing the citizens to
resistance, tended to persuade them to submission. He reminded them that the
sword which he had foretold had now actually come on them. After the expulsion
of the Medici, the friar was sent at the head of an embassy which was received
by Charles at Pisa. In the solemn tone of a prophet, he told the king that he
must regard himself as an instrument in God’s hand; that if he should forget
his calling—if he should neglect to labour for the reform of the church, and to
respect the liberties and the honour of the Florentines—another would be chosen
in his stead. Charles answered with courtesy, although in a way which showed
that he did not apprehend the peculiarity of Savonarola’s character and
position; but during his stay at Florence (where the citizens, who had agreed
to admit him peaceably, were deeply offended by his entering with his lance on
his thigh, as if assuming the character of a conqueror) the friar’s admonitions
were repeatedly administered to him.
In the meantime Alexander was
distracted by a variety of fears. In vain he entreated Maximilian to intervene
as advocate of the church. He was alarmed by hearing that the Colonnas had
openly declared for the French, and entertained designs of seizing him; that
the Orsini, on whose support he had relied, had submitted to the invader; that
the trading classes of his city were not disposed to stand by him; that the
French were devastating everywhere, and that his concubine, Julia Farnese, had
fallen into their hands. Cardinal Piccolomini and others whom he sent to
Charles, returned without having been able to obtain an audience. He arrested
the cardinals who were in favour of France, and even the French ambassadors;
and almost immediately after he released them again. He spoke of leaving Rome,
but was unable to carry out any resolution. He invited Ferdinand, duke of
Calabria, to occupy the city with Neapolitan troops. But when Charles asked for
leave to pass through Rome, in order to the crusade (for nothing was said of
his designs on Naples), Alexander felt that he could make no effective
opposition; and by his request the duke of Calabria withdrew, although with
undisguised indignation, along the Appian way at the same time that the French
made their entrance at the Flaminian gate. As at Florence, Charles affected to
enter as a conqueror, by carrying his lance rested on his thigh. On his right
and on his left rode the cardinals Julian della Rovere, Sforza, Colonna, and
Savelli; and the multitude raised loud shouts in honour of France, Colonna, and
the cardinal of St. Peter ad Vincula. It was night before the greater part of
the troops could enter; and the gleam of torches and of lights from the windows
heightened the impression made by their arms, their horses, and a train of
artillery which far exceeded all that the Italians had yet beheld of its kind.
Alexander, a few days after the
king’s arrival, withdrew into the castle of St. Angelo, from which he uneasily
watched the lights and the sounds on the other side of the Tiber. He knew that
importunities were addressed to Charles by eighteen cardinals for the
assembling of a general council in order to his deposition; and he felt that
neither the manner of his elections nor his personal character could endure the
examination of such an assembly. He was repeatedly urged by Charles to give up
the fortress as a pledge; but he declared that he would rather place himself on
the battlements, with the holy Eucharist and the heads of the two great
apostles in his hands, and would abide the effect of an attack. The French, in
their impatience at his obstinacy, twice pointed their cannon against St.
Angelo; but a party among the king’s advisers, which had been drawn into the
pope’s interest by the promise of ecclesiastical dignities, was able to
prevent any practical acts of hostility. During his stay at Rome, Charles daily
visited some church, to hear mass and to inspect the sacred relics; and the
Romans looked on with astonishment when he touched for the king’s evil in the
church of St. Petronilla. But his soldiers, notwithstanding a solemn engagement
to refrain from all violence, freely indulged their insolence and their love of
spoil: even Vanozza’s house was plundered, to Alexander’s great anger and
disgust.
A treaty was concluded, by which the
pope was to put certain fortified towns into the hands of the French until the
conquest of Naples should have been achieved. He was also to make over to them
for six months the Turkish prince Djem, with a view to the proposed crusade;
and he was to extend an amnesty to the cardinals and others who had offended
him by taking part with France. After the conclusion of this agreement, Charles
was more than once received at the Vatican, to which the pope had returned; and
Briçonnet, bishop of St. Malo, one of his favourite counsellors, was promoted
to the dignity of cardinal. The same honour was conferred on Peter of
Luxemburg, bishop of Le Mans.
On the 28th of January the king left
Rome, taking with him the Turkish prince, and accompanied by Caesar Borgia, who
was decorated with the title of legate, but was really intended to serve as a
hostage for the performance of his father’s promises. Caesar, however, on the
second night of the march absconded from Velletri in the dress of a groom, so
that the security which his presence had given was lost.
At Naples the approach of the French
produced an outbreak against the reigning dynasty. Alfonso, knowing that, both
for his father’s sake and for his own, he was execrated by his subjects, and
that by his atrocious cruelties and his detestable vices he had well deserved
their abhorrence, resigned the crown in favour of his son Ferdinand, and
withdrew to a Sicilian monastery, where he engaged in penitential exercises,
and soon after died. The new king, finding himself unable, with a disheartened
and mutinous soldiery and a disaffected people, to make head against the
invader, retired to the island of Ischia; and on the following day Charles
entered Naples unopposed, and was received with joyful demonstrations of
welcome.
But the popular feeling in favour of
the French was soon changed into detestation. The strangers abused their
fortune. They treated the Neapolitans with contempt and outrage. All offices
were bestowed on foreigners, and sometimes two or three were accumulated on
one person; even private property was invaded to gratify the rapacity of
Frenchmen; and Charles avowed an intention of reducing the barons of the kingdom
from their comparative independence to a like state of subordination with the
nobility of France. He neglected business; to his new subjects he was
inaccessible; and those who had steadily adhered to the Angevine interest were
disgusted at finding that their past fidelity and sufferings did not exempt
them from being confounded with the partisans of the expelled dynasty. The
young French nobles, after the king’s example, gave themselves up freely to
pleasure; the mass of the army, in consequence of their indulgences, were
enervated by a new and loathsome disease; the project of a crusade, which had
been used to sanctify the invasion of Italy, was utterly forgotten. At Naples,
Djem died on the 26th of February; and his death was attributed, not only by
popular opinion, but by Charles himself, to a slow poison, administered (as was
supposed) by the pope, who had corresponded with Bajazet as to the means of
removing the unfortunate prince, and reaped the benefit of the imputed crime by
receiving 300,000 ducats for his body.
While Charles was lingering in
hurtful inaction at Naples, dangers were gathering behind him. Lewis Sforza,
alarmed by finding that the duke of Orleans had asserted a claim to Milan, as
being the sole legitimate descendant of the Visconti, and that in this he was
countenanced by the French king, concluded at Venice a league with the pope,
the emperor, the sovereigns of Spain, and the Venetian republic, which,
although professedly intended for defence against the Turks, had evidently a
further meaning. Charles, on receiving from his envoy at Venice, Philip de
Comines, a report of this formidable combination, resolved to return
northwards. Before leaving Naples he wished to be formally inaugurated in his
new sovereignty; but as the pope, notwithstanding an absolute promise which he
had made during the king’s stay at Rome, refused to grant him investiture, even
with a reservation of any rival claims, he resolved to act on his own
authority. He therefore, on the 12th of May, proceeded in state to the church
of St. Januarius, arrayed in the ensigns of eastern imperial dignity, and there
solemnly bound himself by oath to maintain the rights and liberties of the
Neapolitans. He then set out homewards, leaving a part of his force to maintain
his authority in the south of Italy.
On his arrival at Rome, Charles
found that Alexander had withdrawn two days before to Orvieto, and had taken
with him all the cardinals, except Morton, archbishop of Canterbury, who was
left to act as his vicar. At Poggibonsi the king was again visited by
Savonarola, who rebuked him for having failed to perform fully the work to
which he had been called, and intimated that a punishment was hanging over him,
yet assured him of the Divine protection on his return. As Charles retreated northwards, the Italians, after having
neglected earlier opportunities of attacking him, presented themselves in
numbers far exceeding those of his army at Fornuovo on the Taro; and in this,
the only battle of the whole campaign, the French gained the advantage, and the
king had the satisfaction of distinguishing himself by personal valour. A peace
was concluded with Sforza at Novara, and Charles, after an absence of about
fourteen months, recrossed the Alps, and again found himself in France. In the
meantime Ferdinand had returned to Naples; and, although he was at first driven
out by Stuart of Aubigny, a skilful general of Scottish descent whom Charles
had left in command of his troops, a second expedition put him into possession,
of his kingdom, through the assistance of the “Great Captain” of Spain,
Gonsalvo de Aguilar. Of the French who had been left at Naples, ill supplied
with money and provisions, and exposed to the ravages of war and of disease,
hardly any found their way home from the land of which their conquest had
appeared so easy.
Gonsalvo also lent his aid to the
pope for the reduction of Ostia, which had been left by Charles in the hands of
Cardinal Julian, and, from its position at the mouth of the Tiber, was a place
of importance for the Romans. For this service the great captain was rewarded
by a triumphal reception at Rome. In the ceremonies of the holy week, he
refused to receive the palm from the pope’s own hands, because the duke of
Gandia had received it before him; but he condescended to accept the golden
rose, which was regarded as a gift for sovereigns. But the freedom with which
he expressed himself as to the disorders and scandals of the court, without
sparing the pope himself, made Alexander glad to be speedily delivered from his
presence.
The emperor Frederick III had been
succeeded by his son Maximilian, who had already been chosen king of the
Romans. In contrast to his father’s inertness, Maximilian displayed an
excessive love of adventure, which continually led him to undertake great
things without calculation as to the possibility of carrying out his designs.
The need of money, which had reduced Frederick to inaction, and had brought on
him the reproach of avarice, instead of restraining Maximilian from entering on
arduous enterprises, compelled him to leave them unfinished; and the world,
which had at first been dazzled by his brilliant and popular personal
qualities, soon learnt to understand his “unstable and necessitous courses”,
and to attach little value to his promises and engagements. His intervention in
the affairs of Italy, in 1496, had little other effect than that of contributing
greatly to the decline of his reputation.
Ferdinand II of Naples died at the
age of twenty-seven, soon after the recovery of his dominions, which on his
death fell to his uncle Frederick, an amiable and popular prince. The pope
resolved to turn to advantage the restoration of the Aragonese dynasty; and he
revived the schemes of Sixtus IV for the aggrandizement of his own family. An
attempt to put down the Orsini, with a view to getting possession of their
estates, was defeated by their vigorous resistance; and Alexander found it
necessary to make the church bear the expense of the enrichment which he
designed for his children. In a secret consistory on the 7th of June, 1597, the
duke of Gandia, who had just been appointed standard-bearer of the church, was
formally invested in the dukedom of Benevento, with Terracina and Pontecorvo;
and it was supposed that the dukedom was intended as a step to a greater
elevation in Naples. No one of the cardinals, except Piccolomini, ventured to
object to this alienation of St. Peter’s property; for Julian della Rovere and
cardinal Perauld, bishop of Gurk, who might probably have joined in the
protest, had been driven into exile.
Two days later, Caesar Borgia was
appointed to proceed to Naples as legate for the coronation of the new king; but before his departure a mysterious
crime was perpetrated. On the evening of Wednesday, the 14th of June, the duke
of Gandia and Caesar, with some others, had supped at the house of Vanozza,
near the church of St. Peter ad Vincula. The brothers mounted their mules, and
rode together towards the Vatican quarter, when, near the palace which the pope
had bestowed on Ascanius Sforza, the duke took leave of the cardinal, saying
that he wished for some further amusement before returning to the Vatican. He
then took up behind him one of their companions at the supper—a masked person,
who for some weeks before had been accustomed to visit him at the palace,—and
he rode away attended by a groom. Next day the groom was found mortally wounded
in the Piazza of the Jews, but could give no information, except that he had
been left there, with orders to wait an hour, and, if his master did not reappear
within that time, to return to the palace. The duke’s prolonged absence excited
his father’s alarm, and an inquiry was set on foot. A charcoal dealer gave
evidence that, while watching on the Ripetta, about the fifth hour of the
night, he had seen a body thrown into the Tiber by four men, acting under the
orders of one on horseback, who had brought it hanging behind him as he rode;
and on being asked why he had not informed the police, the witness made an
answer which throws a dismal light on the state of Rome under Alexander’s
government—that he had in his time seen a hundred corpses cast by night into
the river, without having heard of any inquiry after them. When this evidence
had been received, three hundred men were employed to drag the river; and the
body of the duke was found, with the throat cut, and stabbed in eight other
places. The hands were bound, and some money remained untouched in the pockets
of the dress. The pope was for the time overwhelmed by his son’s dark and
tragical end. As the body, after having been carried up the river in a boat,
was landed at the castle of St. Angelo amidst the lamentations of the
countrymen of the Borgias, one voice rose so loudly above the rest that persons
standing on the neighbouring bridge could distinctly hear it; and it was
believed to be the voice of the miserable father. For three days he neither ate,
nor drank, nor slept; he remained shut up in his apartment, from which it is
said that there were heard not only his lamentations, but cries that he knew
the murderer. When, however, the matter was brought before the consistory, the
pope declared that he suspected no one; but the inquiry was suddenly brought to
an end, and it was believed that he knew the guilty secret only too well.
Although men did not venture to utter their thoughts, no one doubted the guilt
of Caesar Borgia. Finding himself cut off from the natural objects of his
ambition by a profession for which he had neither fitness nor liking, while the
circumstances of his birth excluded him from all hope of its highest dignity,
it would seem that Caesar had been struck with envy of the position to which
his more fortunate brother had been raised, and of the yet higher honours which
the pope was scheming for the duke; and it is said that this motive, which of
itself might have been sufficient for so depraved a nature, was exasperated by
jealousy at finding his brother preferred by a mistress with whom both were
intimate.
To the consistory of cardinals, to
ambassadors and others who were admitted to his presence, Alexander professed
himself so shattered by his loss that he could take no interest in worldly
objects; he professed to feel remorse for his past life—to care for nothing but
the reformation of the church, for which he appointed a commission of six
cardinals; he even talked of resigning the papacy. But in no long time these
dispositions passed away. A scheme of reform, which was drawn up by the
commission, remained a dead letter; and Alexander plunged again into intrigue
and vice and crime. For a time it was believed that the ghost of the murdered
man was heard wailing by night about the Vatican; but the report died away,
although the people continued to see proofs of demoniacal influence in some
calamities which followed quickly on each other—storm and flood, and lightning,
which caused an explosion of the powder- magazine in the castle of St. Angelo.
The path of ambition now lay clear
before Caesar; and it would seem that already his plans were formed. His
strength of will prevailed over the pope, who appears to have resigned himself
to the loss of his elder son, and to have concentrated all his affections and
his hopes on the supposed fratricide. Within a few weeks after his brother’s
death, the cardinal proceeded on his mission to Naples, and placed the crown on
the head of the king whom he was perhaps even then plotting to dethrone.
Under Alexander it has been truly
said that the papacy changed from a theocracy to a tyranny. The Romans had lost
all independence since the suppression of the Porcaro conspiracy. The college
of cardinals, although it contained a few men of higher class, was chiefly
filled with nominees of Alexander, who had bought their places, who too much
resembled him in character, and in action were his slaves and tools.
The death of Charles of France,
which took place on the 7th of April 1498, at the age of twenty-eight, opened
new prospects for Alexander. The duke of Orleans,, who succeeded to the throne
under the name of Lewis XII, needed the papal sanction in order that he might
rid himself of his wife, who had been forced on him by her father, Lewis XI,
and might marry his predecessor’s widow, Anne of Brittany, who by the death of
Charles had again become the sole possessor of her hereditary duchy; while the
pope saw in a French alliance the means of protecting himself against the
threat of a general council. The question of the king’s marriage was
investigated by a commission of bishops and doctors, who on false evidence and
frivolous grounds pronounced it to be null, and reported this judgment to Rome.
Caesar Borgia had resolved to rid
himself of the restraints of the clerical character. He appeared- before his
brother cardinals, and declared that he had always been strongly inclined to
the life of a layman; that he had entered into the ecclesiastical estate out of
deference to the pope’s wishes alone; that he felt himself unfit for it, and
desired a release from it; and that if this were granted, he would resign all
his preferments. He entreated the cardinals to join with him in his petition;
and they consented to do so. The pope willingly granted him the required dispensation,
and the cardinal-archbishop was restored to the condition of a layman.
Caesar now prepared to go into
France for the business of the king’s divorce and remarriage. The magnificence
of his appointments was extraordinary; even the horses of his train were shod
with silver. And, although the French privately indulged their wit in
ridiculing him, he was received at Avignon and at Chinon with honours such as
were usually reserved for sovereigns. He carried with him bulls for the divorce
and remarriage of Lewis, and also one by which the dignity of cardinal was
bestowed on the king’s favourite minister, George d’Amboise; but with the
intention of exacting the highest possible terms from the king, he concealed
the fact as to the matrimonial bull, and professed to have only that for the
divorce. The secret was betrayed by the bishop of Cette to Lewis, who thereupon
proceeded, without having seen the bull, to celebrate his marriage with Anne;
and it is said that Caesar avenged himself for the bishop’s indiscretion by
poison.
The pope, in his eagerness for the
advancement of his family, had asked king Frederick of Naples to bestow on
Caesar the hand of one of his daughters, with a consider able territory; but
both Frederick and the princess had shown the strongest repugnance to such a
connexion. In return for the favour which he had bestowed on the French king in
the matter of the divorce, Alexander now engaged Lewis to support him in this
project; but the feelings of the Neapolitan princess were not to be overcome.
Lewis, however, had so far pledged his assistance that he felt himself bound to
obtain for Caesar the hand of some lady whose birth might be suitable to the
aspirations of the Borgias; and thus the ex-cardinal became the husband of
Charlotte d’Albret, sister of the king of Navarre, and niece of Lewis. It was a
condition of the marriage that one of her brothers should be created a
cardinal; and on the other hand Lewis bestowed on Caesar the duchy of
Valentinois, and promised to assist him in his schemes of Italian conquest.
Lewis had from the time of his
accession declared his designs on Milan by assuming the title of duke, on the
ground of descent through his grandmother, Valentina, from the first duke of
the Visconti family. In the summer of 1499, a campaign of twenty days made him
master of the duchy, while Lewis the Moor sought a refuge in the Tyrol, with
the emperor Maximilian, who had married his niece and had borrowed large sums
of him. The king entered Milan in triumph, on the 6th of October but a reaction
speedily followed, and Sforza, within five months from the day when he had left
Milan amid the curses of his subjects, was received back with extravagant joy.
In the war which ensued, however, he was betrayed at Novara by his Swiss
mercenaries, who entered into an agreement with their countrymen in the French
service; and the last ten years of his life were spent in a narrow iron cage at
Loches. His brother, the ambitious cardinal Ascanius, was also made a prisoner,
and was closely imprisoned at Bourges.
But beyond Milan Lewis carried his
views to Naples. Alexander had in 1497 invested Frederick in that kingdom ;
but he had since been deeply offended by the persistent refusal of his son’s
alliance in marriage, while he had become bound to the French king by ties of
mutual interests There was, however, reason to apprehend opposition from
Frederick’s kinsman, Ferdinand of Spain, who asserted that he himself was the
rightful heir of the Aragonese line of Naples, inasmuch as Alfonso I had not
been entitled to bequeath the kingdom to his illegitimate offspring. But the
crafty Ferdinand professed that, for the sake of peace, he was willing to admit
the concurrent claim of Lewis, as heir of the line of Durazzo; and on this
basis a flagitious scheme of joint conquest, to be followed by a partition of
the Neapolitan territory between France and Spain, was agreed on at Granada on
St. Martin’s day, 15oo. It was alleged against Frederick, not only that his
title was defective, but that he had invited the Turks to attack a Christian
power—a charge which might with equal truth have been made against the pope
himself, with the addition that he had profited by his correspondence with the
Turks, whereas Frederick had received no benefit from them. The ambassadors of
France and Spain urged these considerations on the pope, and represented that
their sovereigns (whose troops had already entered the States of the Church)
desired the possession of Naples only with a view to the conquest of
Constantinople. The pope, in addition to his wish to punish Frederick for his
offence, saw that, if he were removed, the barons of the Campagna, whose
subjugation Alexander meditated, would be deprived of all support from without.
He therefore agreed to invest the French and Spanish sovereigns in their
expected conquests, and pronounced Frederick to be deposed for his connexion
with the infidels and for having fostered rebels against the church; but this
sentence was to be kept secret until the result of the expedition should be known.
Ferdinand’s general, the “great captain” Gonsalvo, who was already in Sicily
for the purpose of assisting the Venetians against the Turks, crossed over to
Naples at the invitation of the unsuspecting Frederick, and perfidiously turned
against him. From the other side, Stuart of Aubigny, accompanied by Caesar
Borgia as his lieutenant, advanced into the Neapolitan territory. Capua was
taken by the help of treachery, and Caesar found an opportunity of signally
displaying his cruelty, rapacity, and lust. It was clear that Frederick could
have no hope of success against the combination of powerful enemies which had
attacked him. In his extremity, he chose to surrender himself to the stranger
rather than to the perfidious kinsman who had taken advantage of his
unsuspecting faith to effect his ruin; and he received from Lewis the duchy of
Anjou, with a pension of 30,000 ducats, on condition that he should not quit
the soil of France.
With the countenance of the French
king, and with some material aid from him, the duke of Valentinois entered on
his campaigns in Italy in 1499. The design was to form for the Borgia family a
large principality, and in the first instance to gain possession of some of the
remoter territories belonging to the Roman church. These had formerly been
committed to the care of papal vicars, whose descendants had gradually assumed
the position of independent lords, paying their tribute to the Roman see
irregularly, if at all, engaging themselves in the service of princes, without
consideration of their obligations to the church, and acting in a general disregard
of its superiority. Each of them had his palace and his court, at which,
according to the fashion of the age, artists, poets, and men of letters were
entertained. The expenses of these courts usually made it necessary to tax the
subjects oppressively, even if worse means of raising money were not employed;
the morals of the princes were commonly of the depraved type which in that age
was characteristic of Italy; their courts and their territories were full of
lawlessness and crimes; assassinations, poisonings, and other such atrocities
were familiar matters of every day. By ejecting these petty tyrants, therefore,
the pope intended not only to aggrandize his family, but to put into their
place one who, instead of their rebellious defiance, would be guided by policy
and interest to act in accordance with the papacy, and he had little reason to
fear that they would be supported by any popular feeling among those who had
suffered from their vices and their misgovernment. Their failure as to the
payment of tribute afforded a pretext for confiscating their territories; and
Caesar proceeded to carry out the papal sentence. At one place after another he
was successful, the only considerable difficulty which he encountered was at
Forli, where Catharine Sforza, the widow of Jerome Riario, vigorously defended
herself for a time; but she was at last compelled to submit, and for a time was
imprisoned in the castle of St. Angelo.
On his return to Rome, Caesar was
honoured with a triumph, and with a public reception by the pope, who soon
after bestowed on him the golden rose, and appointed him captain-general and
standard-bearer of the church, in the room of his murdered brother. His
success was celebrated with games and other festive spectacles; among which was
a representation in the Piazza Navona of the victories of Julius Caesar. The
alienation of the church’s patrimony to the Borgias was sanctioned by the
college of cardinals; and Caesar joined to the title of Valentinois that of
duke of Romagna. In order to counteract in some degree the impression which his
crimes had made on the minds of men, he established throughout his dominions an
energetic system of administration, which appeared in favourable contrast with
the misrule of the ejected princes; but even as to this he delighted to employ
that system of mysterious terror which was one of his chief instruments. Thus,
when the province had been reduced to order by the stern rigour of a governor
named Ramiro d’Orco, the people of Cesena were startled by discovering one
morning in their market-place the body of the governor, with the head severed
from it, and a block with a bloody knife between them,—a spectacle by which the
duke intended to claim for himself the credit of his good government, to throw
the blame of past severities on the officer who had thus been punished for
them, and to strike a general awe by the manner of Ramiro’s end.
Having gained the greater part of
the Romagna (although he found himself obliged to leave the Bentivoglio family
in possession of Bologna), Caesar turned his attention towards Tuscany. But
here he found that his ally the king of France, instead of assisting him,
required him to give up his attempt; and he was obliged to content himself with
receiving from the republic of Florence the office of condottiere, with a large
income attached to it, and with the understanding that no services were to be
required of him. The countenance shown by the French king to a man so generally
execrated as Caesar induced many complaints, which were laid before the king at
Asti, with entreaties that he would deliver the church both from Alexander and
from his son. It would seem that Lewis thought of deposing the pope, and that
to this time is to be referred a medal which he struck, with the inscription, “Perdam Babilonis nomen”. But Alexander,
who had already gratified the king by appointing his minister d’Amboise legate a latere for France, drew the cardinal
afresh into his interest by promising to create additional cardinals, with a
view to promoting his election to the papacy; and Caesar, on hurrying to Lewis
at Milan, was received with cordiality and confidence. The alliance with
the king was confirmed, and Lewis soon after returned to France.
By the partition of the Neapolitan
kingdom, the barons of the Campagna were deprived of the support on which they
had relied; and Caesar proceeded to reduce them to submission. But in the
course of this war, the duke’s condottieri and captains, of whom many belonged
to the same class with the enemies against whom they were engaged, began to
perceive that they were lending themselves as instruments for their own ruin.
Caesar was suddenly surprised by a mutiny, and was shut up in the town of
Imola, until the besiegers were driven off by the approach of some French
troops, who advanced to his assistance. Caesar, after having treated with the
leaders of the mutiny singly, was able to bring them together, as if for a
conference, at Sinigaglia, where he had collected as large a force as possible;
and, after having by a show of kindness led them to throw off all suspicion,
and to disarm their followers, he caused them to be surrounded by his soldiery,
arrested them, and put some of the most important among them to death. Such was
the morality of the age, that this atrocious treachery was regarded with
general admiration. Lewis XII himself spoke of it (apparently without sarcasm
or irony) as “a Roman deed”; and Machiavelli repeatedly eulogizes Caesar as the
model of a prince and a statesman.
Among those arrested at Sinigaglia
were some of the Orsini—a family which Alexander had determined to ruin. After
having disregarded many warnings against intended treachery, cardinal Orsini
allowed himself to be decoyed into an interview with the pope, who committed
him to prison, seized his treasures, and gave up his palace to plunder. The
cardinals in a body interceded for their brother, but without effect. For a
time Orsini was kept without suitable food, until his mother, by a large sum of
money, and his mistress, by finding and giving up a very precious pearl which
had belonged to him, obtained leave to send him supplies. But before this, the
pope had caused one of his favourite powders to be administered, and the cardinal
died in prison. As Caesar returned to Rome, marking his path by acts of cruelty
in every town through which he passed, the Orsini made a desperate but ineffectual
stand at the Ponte Lomentano. The Borgias had crushed all opposition; but
the pope himself stood in awe of his son, and professed to be shocked by the
atrocity of Caesar’s measures.
For his daughter Lucretia, Alexander
formed projects which became more and more ambitious. After a marriage of less
than three years, her husband, Sforza of Pesaro, appears to have felt himself
unsafe in Easter 1496—the connexion, and fled from Rome; where upon their union
was dissolved under frivolous pretexts, and she was married to a youth of
seventeen, Alfonso, prince of Bisceglia, an illegitimate son of Alfonso II, the
late king of Naples. But this new husband appears in his turn to have suspected
that mischief was intended against him, and secretly left Rome for Naples. The
pope, however, persuaded him to return; and he had lived with his wife ten
months longer, when, on the 15th of July, 1500, he was stabbed on the steps of
St. Peter’s. The assassins were carried off in safety by a troop of horsemen.
The authorship of the crime was inferred from the fact that no inquiry was
allowed and, as the wounded man seemed likely to recover, he was strangled in
his bed on the 18th of August. It is said that Caesar Borgia not only contrived
but witnessed the murder, and that he justified it by charging the victim with
designs against his life. A year later, Lucretia was again married, with great
pomp, to a third or fourth husband—Alfonso, eldest son of the duke of Ferrara.
By condescending to such a connexion (which was forwarded by the influence of
the French king) the proud house of Este, which had been alarmed by Caesar
Borgia’s progress, gained for itself the pope’s protection, security against
the territorial ambition of the Borgias, a large payment of money, and the
free possession of some ecclesiastical fiefs in the Romagna; while for the
Borgias, in addition to the dignity of the alliance, there was the advantage
that the new duchy of Romagna was covered on its weakest side by the territory
of a friendly power. Lucretia, who had not only exercised the government of
Spoleto, but during her father’s absence from Rome had actually been entrusted
with the administration of the papacy, removed to Ferrara, where she lived
until 1519. In her later years she cultivated the reputation of religion, and
earned the celebration of poets—among them, of Ariosto. But although we may
hesitate or refuse to believe, at least in their full extent, the foulest of
the charges which have assailed her, it is impossible to disconnect her from
the treasons and murders, the brutal licentiousness, the gross and scandalous
festivities, amid which her earlier life was spent, and in some of which it
appears that she took a conspicuous part. Nor are either poets or divines
superior to the temptation of overlooking the faults of persons in high station
whose patronage they regard as a benefit and an honour.
The moral degradation into which the
papacy sank under Alexander has no parallel either in its earlier or in its
later history, even if we make large deductions from the statements of
contemporary writers on the ground of malice or exaggeration. The pope himself
and his children are accused of profligacy which hesitated at nothing for its
gratification, which never scrupled to remove obstacles by murder, or to
violate the laws of nature. The Vatican was polluted by revels and orgies of
the most shameless and loathsome obscenity, of which the pope and his daughter
are represented as pleased spectators. A letter of the time, which is said to
have been read in Alexander’s own hearing, paints the morals of the court in
the darkest colours, and speaks of him as a man stained with every vice, a
second Mahomet, the predicted antichrist.
For the expenses of this disgusting
and costly wickedness, for the wars and pompous displays of Caesar Borgia, for
the establishment of his other children in the rank of princes, Alexander
needed money continually; and he raised it by means more shameless than
anything that had before been practised. An epigram of the time (for epigrams
and pasquils were the only form in which the Romans then ventured to express
their discontent) speaks of him as selling all that was holiest, and as
entitled to sell, inasmuch as he had previously bought. The most disreputable
of the expedients to which earlier popes had resorted—sale of offices and
benefices, creation of new offices in order that they might be sold, traffic in
indulgences, misappropriation of money raised under pretence of a
crusade—these and such like abuses were carried to an excess before unknown.
Cardinals were appointed in large numbers—at one time twelve, at another time
eleven—with the avowed purpose of extorting money for their promotion. The
jubilee of 1500 attracted a vast number of pilgrims to Rome: on Easter-day,
200,000 knelt in front of St. Peter’s to receive the pope’s benediction; and
while these multitudes returned home, to scandalize all Christendom by their
reports of the depravities of Rome, the papal treasury was enriched by their
offerings, and by the commutations paid by those who were unable to make the
pilgrimage in person. The “right of spoils” (jus exuviarum) received new developments for the gratification of
Alexander’s rapacity; he seized the property of deceased cardinals in disregard
of their testamentary directions; in some cases he forbade cardinals to make
wills; and it was believed that the deaths of those who had the reputation of
wealth were sometimes hastened by poison. Property was largely taken from the
great Roman families—often under false pretences—for the endowment of the
pope’s children and kindred. Thus the Gaetani were charged with treason,
because Alexander had fixed his desires on the duchy of Sermoneta. The duke was
committed to the castle of St. Angelo, where he died, probably of poison.
Others of the family were put to death, and the duchy was made over, by a
pretended sale, to Lucretia, whose son by Alfonso of Bisceglia was decorated
with the title attached to it. Another boy, the son of Alexander by a Roman
mother (probably Julia Farnese), was made duke of Nepi, with a suitable
endowment. The interests of the church were utterly disregarded, in order that
the pope’s bastards might be enriched; thus Caesar, in addition to his fiefs in
the Romagna, received the abbey of Subiaco with eighteen castles belonging to
it; and nineteen cardinals signed the deed of alienation, while not one dared
to object to it.
Rome was kept under a system of
terror, so that no one dared to mutter his dissatisfaction. The dungeons of St.
Angelo and of the Tor di Nona were crowded with prisoners, of whom many found
an end by secret violence. Prelates whose wealth made them objects of sinister
interest to the pope disappeared, and were not again heard of. Dead bodies were
found in the streets, or were thrown into the Tiber. Hosts of spies and
assassins lurked in secret, or audaciously swaggered about the city. The state
of Rome can hardly have been made worse by an edict which allowed all persons
who had been banished for murder, robbery, or other crimes, to return with
impunity. The ruling spirit in this general terror was Caesar Borgia, with whom
the pope remonstrated on his tyranny, while he extolled his own clemency by way
of contrast.
The powers which had combined for
the conquest of Naples soon quarrelled about the division of their prey. After
a time, a treaty was arranged at Lyons, by which Naples was to become the
endowment of a marriage between the French king’s daughter Claude, and Charles,
the child of the emperor’s son Philip by Joanna, the daughter of Ferdinand and
Isabella, and, until the parties should be of age to consummate the marriage,
the partition of Granada was to be in force. But the Spanish general Gonsalvo,
taking advantage of the weakness of the French in southern Italy, and
professing that he had no official knowledge of the treaty, suddenly assumed
the offensive, and made himself master of the whole Neapolitan territory, and
Ferdinand, in order to gain the benefit of this treachery, disowned the treaty
of Lyons, under the pretext that Philip, who had acted for him, had exceeded
his instructions. The French king was preparing an expedition for the recovery
of his Neapolitan territory, and for the chastisement of Caesar Borgia, who
had been joined with Gonsalvo in the late campaign, when it was suddenly
reported that the pope was dead.
At the age of seventy-two, Alexander
still appeared full of vigour; the sonorous and musical voice with which he
officiated in the mass at Easter 1503, excited the admiration of the Ferrarese
ambassador. His schemes had all been thus far successful, and he was meditating
yet further projects of ambition. On the 12th of August, Alexander supped at
his vineyard, near the Vatican palace, with his son the duke of Valentinois and
Adrian cardinal of St. Chrysogonus and bishop of Hereford. All three were
seized with sudden illness; and it was commonly believed that the pope and his
son had drunk, through a servant’s mistake, of poisoned wine, designed by
Caesar for the cardinal, whose wealth had attracted the cupidity of the
Borgias. Adrian, after a severe illness, during which it is said that the whole
skin of his body was changed, recovered; Caesar, although with difficulty, was
carried through by the immediate use of antidotes, aided by his youth and
natural force of constitution; but the pope died within a week, after having
received the last rites of the church. His illness appears to have been treated
as a fever, and may perhaps have been no more than an ordinary disease of this
kind. But it was reported that his body was black and swollen, as if from
poison; and it was commonly believed at Rome that the devil, by whose aid he
had attained the papacy, after having long attended on him in the form of an
ape, had carried off his forfeit soul.
The circumstances of the time, after
the expulsion of the Medici, had led the Florentines to look to Savonarola for
guidance; and he found himself inevitably drawn to mingle deeply in political
affairs. The parties at Florence were three : the whites, or popular party, who, although far from being penetrated
by Savonarola’s religious principles, usually acted in accordance with him;
the greys, or adherents of the
Medici, who for the time found it necessary to disguise their opinions; and the
oligarchical party, mostly composed of violent young men, from whom it got the
names of arrabbiati (infuriated) and compagnacci. These were generally
opposed at once to Savonarola’s political views and to his religious and moral
strictness; and they derided his followers as piagnoni (weepers), fratteschi,
and masticapaternostri. Agreeably to
the principles of the book ‘On the Government of Princes’, commonly ascribed to
Thomas of Aquino, Savonarola held that, while monarchy was in itself the best
form of government, different polities were suitable for various states; that
the intelligence, advanced culture, and courage of the Florentines rendered
them fit for a purely republican government; and to his influence the
establishment of a popular, yet not democratic, constitution was chiefly due.
But while his political allies wished to use his religious influence for their
own purposes, the Dominican’s great object was to make political reform
subservient to the reformation of morals and religion. He proclaimed the
sovereignty of Christ, and did not hesitate to deduce from this the sacredness
of the laws which he himself set forth. His visions increased, partly through
the effect of his ascetic exercises. He expected supernatural guidance in
determining the subjects of his preaching, and even believed in the visions of
a monastic brother named Sylvester Maruffi, although these were evidently
nothing more than the offspring of a nervous temperament combined with a weak
and ignorant mind. He frequently expressed his expectation of a violent death,
and he carried a small crucifix in his sleeve, by way of preparation for a
sudden end.
In the meantime the effects of his
preaching had begun to appear in the graver dress and more decorous manners
both of men and of women; in church-going, fasting, almsgiving, in the
celebration of marriages with seriousness, instead of the levity which had been
usual, in habits of family devotion, which were almost monastic, in the
restoration of wrongful or questionable gains, in the reading of religious
books, in the substitution of hymns for the licentious and half-pagan
carnival-songs of former times, some of which had been composed by Lorenzo
himself. The grosser vices seemed to have disappeared; the spectacles and games
in which the Florentines had delighted were neglected. At the carnival of 1496,
the boys of the city, whose disorderly behaviour at that season had formerly
defied the authority of the magistrates, were brought by the friar’s influence
to enlist themselves in the service of religion; and, instead of extorting
money to be spent in riotous festivity, they modestly collected alms which were
employed in works of mercy under the direction of a charitable brotherhood.
Within the convent of St. Mark,
Savonarola, as prior, had introduced a thorough reformation. There was a return
to the earlier simplicity of food and dress. All use of gold or silver in
crucifixes and other ornaments was forbidden. Schools were established, not
only for the study of Scripture in the original languages, but for painting,
calligraphy, and illumination; and
the practice of these arts contributed much to defray the expenses of the
society. The number of brethren had increased from about fifty to two hundred
and thirty-eight, of whom many were distinguished for their birth, learning, or
accomplishments; and among the devoted adherents, of the prior were some of the
most eminent artists of the age—such as Bartholomew or Baccio della Porta, who
after Savonarola’s death entered the brotherhood of St. Mark’s, and is famous
under the name of Fra Bartolommeo; the architect Cronaca; the painters
Botticelli and Credi; the family of Della Robbia, eminent in sculpture; the
sculptor Baccio of Montelupo; and, above all, Michael Angelo Buonarroti, who
even to old age used to read the sermons of Savonarola, and to recall with
reverence and delight his tones and gestures.
But Savonarola’s course was watched
with unfriendly eyes. The partisans of the Medici were hostile to him for in a
sermon he had plainly recommended that anyone who should attempt to restore the
tyranny of the banished family should lose his head. The arrabbiati were bitterly opposed to him, and they enlisted on their
side the power of Lewis the Moor, and his influence with the pope. The clergy,
and especially those of high position in the church, were indignant at his
assaults on their manner of life; monks and friars—some of them even of his own
order—were exasperated by his reproofs of their degeneracy. Frequent complaints
were carried to Rome, where one Marianus of Genezzano, a Franciscan, who in
Savonarola’s earlier days had been his rival for fame as a preacher, was busy
in representing him as a dangerous man; and as early as July 1495, prior of St.
Mark’s was invited by Alexander to a conference on the subject of his prophetic
gifts. But July 21, although the invitation was very courteously expressed, and
was accompanied by compliments as to his labours, he was warned by his friends
that it was not to be trusted; he therefore excused himself on the ground that
his health had suffered from over-exertion, and that, in the circumstances of
the time, his presence was considered necessary at Florence. Further
correspondence took place, in which the pope’s blandishments were soon
exchanged for a threatening tone, and Savonarola was denounced by him as a
“sower of false doctrine”; while Savonarola, although he maintained the
reality of his inspirations, endeavoured to explain his claims to the
prophetical character in an inoffensive sense.
He was charged to refrain from
preaching, and for a time obeyed, employing himself chiefly in the composition
of books, while his place in the pulpit was supplied by one of his most zealous
adherents, Dominic of Pescia. But the solicitations of his friends, and his
own feeling as to the necessities of the time, induced him to resume his
preaching, as he considered the inhibition to have been issued on false
grounds, and therefore to be invalid. He now thundered against the vices of the
Roman court, and denounced vengeance which was to come on them. He pointed to a
general council as the remedy, and declared that it might depose unworthy prelates—even
the pope himself, whose election, as it had been effected by notorious bribery,
Savonarola regarded as null and void. He taught that property might lawfully be
held by the church, for otherwise St. Sylvester would not have accepted it; but
that the present corruptions of the church proved the expediency of resigning
it. In the hope of silencing and gaining so formidable a man, Alexander
employed an agent to sound him as to the acceptance of promotion to the
cardinalate; but Savonarola indignantly declared from the pulpit that he would
have no other red hat than one dyed with the blood of martyrdom.
Among the charges against Savonarola
was that of having surreptitiously procured a papal order by which the Tuscan
Dominicans were separated from the Lombard congregation.. The matter was
discussed until, feeling that on his independence depended the validity of his
reforms, he avowed that, in case of extremity, he must resist the pope, as St.
Paul withstood St. Peter to the face. Thus he was brought into direct conflict
with the papacy : and he was ordered to refrain from preaching, either in
public or within his convent, until he should have obeyed the papal summons to
Rome.
At the approach of the carnival of
1497, Savonarola resolved to carry further the reform which he had attempted
in the preceding year. For some days the boys who were under his influence went
about the city, asking the inhabitants of each house to give up to them any
articles which were regarded as vanities and cursed things; and these were
built up into a vast pile, fifteen stories high—carnival masks and habits, rich
dresses and ornaments of women, false hair, cards and dice, perfumes and
cosmetics, books of sorcery, amatory poems and other works of a free character,
musical instruments, paintings and sculptures—all surmounted by a monstrous
figure representing the Carnival. A Venetian merchant offered the signory
20,000 crowns for the contents of the heap, but the money was refused, and he
was obliged to contribute his own picture to the sacrifice. It is said that
Baccio della Porta cast into the heap a number of his academic drawings from
the nude figure, and that Lorenzo di Credi and other artists of Savonarola’s
party imitated the act. On the morning of the last day of the carnival
Savonarola celebrated mass. A long procession of children and others, dressed
in white, then wound through the streets, after which the pyre was kindled, and
its burning was accompanied by the singing of psalms and hymns, the sounds of
bells, drums, and trumpets, and the shouts of an enthusiastic multitude, while
the signory looked on from a balcony. The money collected by the boys and made
over to the brotherhood of St. Martin exceeded the amount which that society
usually received in a year. But although Savonarola was delighted with the
success of his project, the errors of judgment which he had shown in investing
children with the character of censors and inquisitors, in employing them to
inform against their own relations, and otherwise introducing dissension into
families, in confounding harmless and indifferent things with things deeply
vicious and sinful, in sanctioning the destruction of precious works of
literature and art—such errors could not but tend to alienate the minds of men
in general, while they furnished his enemies with weapons against him.
The opposition of these enemies was
becoming more and more bitter, and showed itself in various forms— lampoons,
charges of designs against the state, and attempts at personal violence. As he
was preaching on Ascension-day, a violent attack was made on him; but he was
saved by some of his friends, who closed around the pulpit, and were able to
carry him off to his convent. In consequence of this he abstained from
preaching for a time.
The pope’s anger against Savonarola
became also more and more exasperated. On the 12th of May was issued a sentence
of excommunication, grounded chiefly on the prior’s disobedience to the orders
for the reunion of his convent with the Tuscan congregation; and on the 22nd of
June this sentence was solemnly pronounced, with bells and lighted tapers, in
the cathedral of Florence. Savonarola withdrew into his convent, while a
conflict as to the merits of his case was kept up by preachers on either side.
During this time he employed himself much in composition, and to it belongs his
chief work, “The Triumph of the Cross”.
The death of the duke of Gandia soon
after furnished him with an opportunity for addressing to the pope a letter of
consolation and of admonition as to the reforms which Alexander, under the
pressure of that calamity, professed a wish to undertake. But although the pope
appeared to receive the letter favourably, it would seem that he afterwards
regarded it as an offensive intrusion.
In the beginning of August a
conspiracy in the interest of the Medici was discovered, and five of the
principal citizens, among whom was Bernard del Nero, a man of seventy-five, who
had held the highest offices in the state, were convicted and sentenced to
death. An appeal to the great council was violently refused, because it was
feared that in that body they might find interest sufficient to save them; and
they were beheaded in the night which followed their condemnation. This was the
work of Savonarola’s partisans, and both he and they suffered in general
estimation by the refusal to the accused of the right of appeal, which had been
allowed in the constitution established by Savonarola himself. But it would
seem that, in his excommunicated and secluded state, he took no part in the
affair beyond interceding—coldly, as he himself says—for one of the
conspirators.
On Septuagesima Sunday, in the
following year, he resumed preaching at the request of the signory. The
archbishop’s vicar-general, a member of the Medici family, forbade attendance
at his sermons, but was induced by a threat from the signory to withdraw his
prohibition. But this body of magistrates was changed every second month; and,
as its elements varied from time to time, Savonarola, after having often
enjoyed its support, was at length to experience its fatal hostility. His
preaching was now more vehement than ever; he launched out against the pope’s
exaggerated claims, against the vices of the Roman court and its head, against
the abuse of excommunication, as to which he even prayed in the most solemn
manner that, if he should seek absolution from the unjust sentence pronounced
against him, he might be made over to perdition. He urged strongly, as he had
urged by letters to sovereign princes, the necessity of a general council as a
remedy for the disorders of the church. It would appear from some of his
expressions that he expected a miracle to be wrought in behalf of his doctrine.
At the approach of Lent he repeated the “burning of vanities”; but, although
the value of the things consumed was said to be greater than on the former
occasion, the procession did not pass off so quietly, as the boy-censors, in
the course of their movements about the city, were insulted and roughly
handled by the compagnacci.
After the burning Savonarola’s
followers returned in procession to St. Mark’s, where in front of the convent
they planted a cross, around which they danced wildly in three circles,
composed of friars, clergy, and laymen, young and old, chanting strange verses
composed by one of the party. That Savonarola tolerated a repetition of these
frantic scenes, by which his party had incurred just obloquy two years before,
is a proof of the high state of enthusiasm to which he had been excited.
About this time one Francis of Apulia,
a member of that division of the Franciscans which, from wearing wooden shoes,
had the name of zoccolanti,
challenged Savonarola to the ordeal of fire, as a test of the truth of his
doctrine. For himself, he said that, being but a sinner, he must expect to be
burnt, but that he would gladly give his life to expose Savonarola as a sower
of scandals and errors.
The challenge was accepted by
Dominic of Pescia, who had already been engaged in disputes with the Franciscan
at Prato, and, in his devotion to Savonarola, believed him capable of
performing miracles. Savonarola himself discouraged the ordeal, because he considered
that the truth of his teaching and prophecies, and the nullity of his
excommunication, were sufficiently proved by other means; he declared that he
had other and better work to do; yet he evidently expected that, if such a
trial should take place, it would result in the triumph of his cause.
Objections were raised, but were silenced by a reference to the famous case of
Peter the Fiery, of which Florence itself had been the scene four centuries
earlier.
Francis of Apulia refused to
encounter any other champion than Savonarola himself, to whom alone his
challenge had been addressed; while, on the other side, not only all the
Dominicans of St. Mark’s and of Fiesole, but a multitude of men, women, and
even children, entreated that they might be allowed to make the trial. At
length it was settled that a Franciscan named Rondinelli should be opposed to
Dominic of Pescia, and that the ordeal should take place on the 7th of
April—the day before Palm Sunday. The propositions as to which the Divine
judgment was thus to be invoked were these : —that the church was in need of
renewal; that it would be chastised and renewed; that Florence also would pass
through chastisement to renovation and prosperity; that the unbelievers would
be converted to Christ; that all these things would take place during that
generation; and, finally, that the excommunication of Savonarola was a nullity.
On the appointed day, the Place of
the Signory, where precautions had been carefully taken for the prevention of
any tumult, was filled by an immense multitude of spectators. Two heaps of
combustible matter had been piled up for the purpose of the trial; they were
forty yards long, two yards and a-half in height, and separated by a passage
one yard wide. But the eagerness of the crowd was to be disappointed. For hours
a discussion was carried on in consequence of objections raised by the
Franciscans that Savonarola’s party and their champion might make use of
magical charms. The wearisome dispute was still in progress, when a heavy
shower fell; and at length the signory forbade the ordeal. The multitude,
tired, hungry, drenched, vexed by the tedious wrangling, and at last finding
themselves baulked of the expected spectacle, while they did not know on whom
to lay the blame, broke out against Savonarola. It was with difficulty that
some of his friends were able to conduct him, carrying the holy Eucharist in
his hands, through a crowd which loaded him with insulting language, to his
convent.
Everything seemed now to turn
against him. The secular clergy, as well as the monks, had been alienated from
him. Two days later St. Mark’s was besieged by a mob, and, on its surrender,
the prior and Dominic of Pescia were committed to prison. Savonarola’s
partisans were attacked and proscribed; some of them were tumultuously
murdered; a commission of men hostile to him was appointed to investigate his
case; and throughout a month he was frequently subjected to torture. His
nervous system, naturally delicate, and rendered more sensitive by his ascetic
exercises, was unable to bear the agonies which were inflicted on him; he
confessed whatever was desired, and, when the torture was over for the time,
retracted the avowals which had been wrung from him. “When I am under torture,”
he said, “I lose myself, I am mad; that only is true which I say without
torture”. Many questions related to his claims to the character of a prophet;
and as to these he talked wildly and inconsistently—insisting at first on the
reality of his visions, but afterwards, in his despair, appearing to give up
his pretensions.
While the pope repeated the request
which he had before urged, that Savonarola should be sent to Rome, the
magistrates of Florence, from a regard to the dignity of the republic, desired
that his punishment should take place on the scene where his offences had been
committed. To this the pope at length consented, and sent the general of the
Dominicans and another as his commissioners, before whom the examination was
resumed. It was impossible to convict the accused of unsoundness as to faith,
and it appears that, in order to give a colour for charges of heterodoxy, the
acts of the process were falsified.
But the judgment of the court had
been predetermined. On the 22nd of May, Savonarola, with Dominic of Pescia and
Sylvester Maruffi (who had been associated with them in prison), was sentenced
to be hanged and burnt. Domniic, with his characteristic zeal, declared himself
eager to be burnt alive; but Savonarola, on being informed of this, reproved
him for wishing to exercise his choice in such a matter.
On the following day the sentence
was carried out in the Place of the Signory, which was occupied by crowds as
numerous as those which a few weeks before had gathered there for the expected
ordeal. The duty of degrading the victims was imposed on Pagagnotti, bishop of
Vaison, who had formerly been a friar of St. Mark’s. In his grief and agitation
the bishop mistook the form, and said to Savonarola, “I separate thee from the
church triumphant”. “From the militant”, said Savonarola, correcting him, “not
from the triumphant, for that is not thine to do”.
After the execution of the sentence,
such remains of the bodies as could be found were thrown into the Arno : yet
relics of Savonarola were preserved with veneration among his adherents, who
even believed them to work miracles, and eagerly traced in the events of the
following years the fulfilment of their master’s prophecies.
CHAPTER VI.
FROM THE DEATH
OF ALEXANDER VI TO THE END OF THE FIFTH COUNCIL OF THE LATERAN.
A.D. 1503-1517.
Caesar Borgia had supposed himself (as he told
Machiavelli) to have provided for all the contingencies which might occur on
his father’s death, with a view to controlling the election of the next pope,
and of securing for himself the power which fortune and skill had combined to
put into his hands. But his calculations were frustrated by the circumstance
that, at the time of Alexander’s death, Caesar was himself disabled for action
by the illness which had seized him in the vineyard of the Vatican. He
contrived, however, while on his sick-bed, to enter into an agreement with the
Colonna family, for the purpose of strengthening himself against the opposition
of the Orsini, who had seized the occasion to make threatening demonstrations.
In the meantime the Roman populace, in vengeance for the insolence of the
Spaniards under the late pontificate, attacked their houses and destroyed their
property; and the city was a scene of tumult, plunder, and slaughter. As the
Vatican quarter and the fortress of St. Angelo were occupied by Caesar’s
soldiery, the cardinals, thirty-eight in number, met in the Dominican church of
St. Mary sopra Minerva, and refused to go into conclave until they were assured
that these troops should be removed, and that the French army should approach
no nearer than Nepi. Their wish as to the French was effected through the
influence of cardinal d’Amboise, who avowedly put himself forward as a
candidate for the papacy, and brought with him to the election Ascanius Sforza,
whom he had gained to his interest by releasing him from his French prison, and
by entertaining him honourably for the last two years. But it soon appeared
that d’Amboise could barely reckon on a third part of the college as his
supporters; and the cardinals, surprised and perplexed by the suddenness of
the late pope’s death, resolved to choose one who should not only be free from
party ties, but whose age and infirmity might seem to promise another speedy
vacancy. On the 22nd of September the election fell on Francis Piccolomini,
who, in memory of his uncle Pius II, styled himself Pius III. The new pope was
sixty-four years old; he had been promoted to the cardinalate by his uncle in
1460, and was regarded as the most respectable member of the college, which had
been greatly sunk in character by Alexander’s simoniacal and scandalous
appointments. Rome and the ecclesiastical states were still in a condition of
disturbance. Nobles of the Campagna repossessed themselves of lands which had
been taken from them by the duke of Valentinois; the cities of Romagna invited
their expelled lords to return, or these returned uninvited to resume their power.
The Venetians invaded Romagna, and made themselves masters of Faenza and other
places. By entering into an alliance with the French, Caesar Borgia provoked
the Spanish general Gonsalvo to order that all the Spaniards who were in his
service should leave it. The duke renewed the contest with his old enemies the
Orsini, but was driven to withdraw into the Vatican and the adjoining quarter,
where he endeavoured to fortify his position. By these disorders the pope was
compelled to take refuge in the castle of St. Angelo, where he died after a
pontificate of six-and-twenty days.
This short interval between two
vacancies of the papacy had sufficed to ascertain the strength of parties in
the college. D’Amboise, finding that he could not hope to be chosen, exerted
himself in favour of the cardinal who was supposed to be the most devoted to
the French interest, Julian della Rovere. Ascanius Sforza was gained to the
same side by the hope that his family might recover the duchy of Milan; and,
notwithstanding the long and open enmity between Julian and the
Borgias—although Caesar had made the eight Spanish cardinals swear that they
would elect no one but a partisan of his family—even Caesar was induced, by
expectations of recovering his territories, of confirmation in his office of
standard-bearer, and of marrying his daughter to the future pope’s nephew, to
throw his influence into the scale of Julian. Capitulations were drawn up, and
an oath was taken to observe them; among other things, the future pope was
within two years to assemble a general council for the reformation of the
church. Without having been shut up in conclave, thirty-seven out of
thirty-eight cardinals voted for Julian, who, as pope, took the name of
Julius—a name which had been borne by only one of his predecessors, the
contemporary of Constantine and Athanasius. The pope, whose earlier career has
been noticed from time to time, was now sixty years old. He was regarded as a
man of sincere and open character; even Alexander VI allowed him this merit,
while censuring him in other respects. But it would seem that he sometimes
traded unfairly on his reputation for honesty, as when, at the election, he
recommended himself to the French party by referring to his past conduct, and
to the Spaniards by promising a different policy for the future. His manner of
life was not immaculate; he had an illegitimate daughter, whom he married to
one of the Orsini; his amours had affected his constitution, and his love of
wine was notorious; but, as compared with some of his late predecessors, his
character and conduct might almost be styled decorous and respectable.
Caesar Borgia had believed that,
although not powerful enough to dictate the choice of a pope, he was able,
through his influence with the Spanish cardinals, to prevent the election of
any individual to the papacy; and he professed to regret the support which he
had given to Julius as the only mistake that he had ever committed. But, as in
his prosperity he had never scrupled at any treachery, he was now to be the
victim of other men’s deceit. Although his army was scattered by the Orsini and
others, he still retained about 400 or 500 soldiers, and formed a wild scheme
for the recovery of Romagna by means of this little force. But, as he was about
to embark at Ostia for Spezzia, he was arrested by the pope’s order, and was
detained in the Vatican until he consented to sign a document by which some
fortresses, which still held out for him, were made over to Julius. He then
made his way by sea to Naples, and repaired to the camp of Gonsalvo, with whom
he had secretly carried on negotiations. But, although he was received with a
great show of honour, he was carefully guarded until the general should learn
the Spanish king’s pleasure respecting him; and, agreeably to Ferdinand’s
usual perfidy, he was arrested in defiance of the safe-conduct which he had
received, was sent as a prisoner to Spain, and was imprisoned in the fortress
of Medina del Campo. From this confinement, after two years, he made his
escape, and he was invested with a military command by his brother-in-law the
king of Navarre, who had vainly interceded for him with Ferdinand. But in March
1507, his adventurous life was ended in a skirmish near Viana, within the
diocese of Pampeluna, of which he had formerly been bishop, and on the
anniversary of his institution to the see. So utterly was the terror of the
Borgias extinct (although Lucretia still lived as duchess of Ferrara), that a
“Comedy of Duke Valentino and Pope Alexander” was acted in the ducal palace of
Urbino, and that other scenes from the family story were already represented on
the stage.
As Alexander’s great object had been
the establishment of his family in the rank of territorial princes, that of
Julius was to extend the temporal power of the papacy by recovering for it all
that it had ever possessed, or could pretend to claim. And to this end he
employed great skill, energy, tenacity of purpose, and even the talents of a
general and the endurance of a soldier. He desired to reunite under the papacy
all those fiefs which had been taken by Caesar Borgia from their hereditary
lords, and which since Caesar’s fall had again for the most part reverted to
the old dominion, while part had been seized by the Venetians. The Venetians
offered to give up all their acquisitions except Faenza, and to hold that territory
under the same conditions of tribute as its former lords. But the pope for a
time refused even to admit their ambassadors to his presence; and he utterly
rejected their Proposals. In the end of August 1506, he set out from Rome for
the purpose of reducing the fiefs of the church to obedience. Baglioni, a
condottiere who had got possession of Perugia, submitted, and was allowed to
continue. The Bentivogli were driven from Bologna; on St. Martin’s day the pope
made his triumphant entry into that city; and his return to Rome was greeted
with a yet more imposing triumph.
The French had been driven out of
Naples by Gonsalvo of Cordova, and the whole kingdom was now subject to
Ferdinand. The death of Isabella of Castile (November 26th, 1504), and that of
her son-in-law the archduke Philip (September 25th, 1506), brought into nearer
prospect the vastness of the power which was likely to be concentrated in the
hands of the young Charles, the heir of Spain, Naples, Austria, and the
Netherlands; and Lewis of France was bent on averting the danger which seemed
to threaten him from this cause.
Maximilian, at a diet which
assembled at Constance, told the German estates that it was necessary for him
to be crowned as emperor at Rome, if the empire were to retain any influence in
Italy. The promise of men which he received from the assembly—8000 horse and
27,000 foot for half a year—was unequal to his wishes and was imperfectly
performed; but he set out on his expedition. The Venetians, although they
professed themselves willing to allow his passage through their territories,
refused to admit his army. There were signs of opposition from other quarters,
and on entering Italy from the Tyrol he found himself compelled by enemies who
beset his way to engage in a warfare which did not result in his favour. The
pope, in his desire to keep him at a distance, allowed him, by a special
privilege, to assume the title of emperor without having gone through the ceremony
of a coronation. The army, ill-fed and unpaid, broke up; and Maximilian, after
having concluded a treaty with the Venetians, returned to Germany.
The republic of Venice was now at
its greatest height of wealth and power, and the success of its prudent,
selfish, and grasping policy had long excited a strong feeling of jealousy in
other states. Thus when Pius II invited the Florentines to take part in the
crusade, they had declined on the ground that whatever might be taken from the
Turks would fall to the Venetians. Julius, in a letter to Maximilian, spoke of
them as encroaching, as aiming at supreme domination in Italy, and even at reestablishing
for themselves the old imperial power; and he had been especially offended by
their rejecting one of his nephews, whom he had nominated to the see of
Vicenza, and substituting a Venetian citizen, whom they required to style
himself “bishop by the grace of the senate”. The emperor considered that the
Venetians had formed their territory at the expense of the empire. The French
king was angry with them for having crossed his designs, for having craftily
favoured the interest of Spain, and for having got possession of some places
which had belonged to his duchy of Milan. In December 1508, a treaty was
concluded at Cambray between the archduchess Margaret, regent of the
Netherlands, on the part of her father the emperor, and by cardinal d’Amboise
as representative of France. Spain was to take part in the treaty, and
d’Amboise, as legate, took it on him to promise the pope’s concurrence.
The treaty began by stating that the
emperor and the French king, having resolved, at the pope’s request, to make
war against the Turks, held themselves bound to restrain the Venetians in their
aggressions on the holy Roman empire and other Christian states; and it pledged
the allied powers to hold by each other until each should have recovered
whatever had been taken from it by the Venetians. For a time this treaty was
kept secret from the power against which it was directed.
Although Julius had special reasons
for dissatisfaction with the republic, he yet felt strongly the inexpediency of
admitting foreigners to exercise dominion in Italy. And the evil was the
greater in proportion to the power of the French and the Spanish sovereigns,
who had respectively possessed themselves of Milan and of Naples. He dreaded
the pretensions which might be advanced on the part of the empire as to Italy;
he dreaded d’Amboise as one who was intriguing to succeed him—whom Lewis, by
interfering in Italian affairs, might help to attain the papacy, in order that
a French pope might transfer the imperial crown from Germany to France. Hence,
although in his enmity to pope Alexander he had himself been the first to bring
the “barbarians” into Italy, the policy of his later years was directed chiefly
to their expulsion. He therefore privately offered to make peace with the
republic on condition that certain territories should be yielded up to him.
But the Venetians, in reliance on their power of raising mercenary troops, and
in the expectation that a league between parties widely differing in interests
would soon break up of itself, declined the proposed terms; and Julius
thereupon joined the league, undertaking to utter the censures of the church
against the Venetians, so that Maximilian should be set free from the
engagements which he had lately contracted with them.
In the spring of 1509 Lewis began
hostilities, and within seventeen days his forces had made themselves masters
of all that he was entitled to claim under the treaty of Cambray. The pope
about the same time sent forth a “monitory” bull, in which he reproached the
Venetians for encroachments and usurpations, for interfering with the rights of
the church as to jurisdiction over clerks and as to patronage of bishoprics,
and for harbouring enemies of the apostolic see. He allowed them twenty-four
days for submission and restitution; in case of their neglecting this
opportunity he declared them to be under interdict, and that their persons and
property might be seized and sold. The Venetians appealed to a general council,
and found means to display their appeal on the doors of St. Peter’s at Rome;
and Julius pronounced an interdict against them.
But the pope did not confine himself
to the use of spiritual weapons. His troops, under the command of his nephew
Francis della Rovere, duke of Urbino, marched into northern Italy, where they
reduced Faenza, Rimini, Ravenna, and other places. The Venetians, pressed by
this invasion, by the French king, who inflicted on them a severe defeat near
Agnadello, and by the fear of preparations in which Maximilian was supposed to
be actively engaged, made overtures to the pope for peace; but these were so
ill received that the republic hesitated between submission to the father of
Christendom and an alliance with the Grand Turk. But Julius dreaded lest the
destruction of the republic should give the French king the sovereignty of all
northern Italy; he was softened by the compliance of a power which had usually
been so haughty; and, although the ambassadors of France and of the empire
opposed a reconciliation, he listened to the intercession which Henry VIII of
England addressed to him through Bainbridge, archbishop of York. The Venetians
agreed to abandon their appeal, to give up all pretensions to ecclesiastical
independence and to jurisdiction over the clergy. Six citizens of high dignity
were sent as ambassadors to Rome, where they were required to enter by night,
and were not greeted with any of the usual marks of honour. Yet they were not
obliged to submit to the full humiliation which had sometimes been inflicted on
penitents. On prostrating themselves before the pope in the porch of St.
Peter’s, they were absolved with a simple injunction to visit the seven basilicas
of Rome, and were at once received, “not as excommunicate or interdicted, but
as good Christians and devoted sons of the apostolic see.” The pope himself had
struck out the usual flagellation from the scheme which had been drawn up by
his master of ceremonies.
Julius had quarrelled with the
French king about the see of Avignon, which had become vacant by the death of a
bishop while in attendance on the papal court. The pope attempted to exercise
the patronage, but as Lewis declared this to be contrary to a late treaty, he
was compelled to yield ungraciously. The death of cardinal d’Amboise, in May
1510, increased the ill-feeling which had arisen, as Julius claimed for the
church the treasures which the minister-legate had accumulated. The pope
resolved to destroy, if possible, the French king’s influence in Italy. He
endeavoured to stir up troubles against him on the side of England and on that
of Switzerland; and in the violence of his self-will he insisted that others,
with whom he had hitherto acted, should follow him in his change of policy.
Hence, when Alfonso, duke of Ferrara, who was a feudatory of the papacy and had
been one of his generals, refused to break off from the alliance against
Venice, Julius declared that he had forfeited his fief, and refused to accept
his tribute. He issued against him a bull of extraordinary violence, repeated
its denunciations in the customary curses of the holy week, and professed that
for the ruin of this enemy he would risk his tiara and his life. He declared that
Lewis had forfeited his claim to the kingdom of Naples, and granted investiture
in it exclusively to Ferdinand, whom he hoped by this favour to secure to his
party. He negotiated through Mathias Schinner, bishop of Sion in the Valais,
with the Swiss, whom Lewis had offended by resisting their demands of increased
pay and by speaking of them with disparagement; and he was allowed by their
diet to raise as many soldiers as he might require from the confederation.
Lewis, although unwilling to quarrel
with the pope, both from his own feeling and yet more on account of his queen’s
influence over him, found it necessary to act in self-defence. Falling back on
a suggestion of his late minister d’Amboise, he convoked at Orleans a national
assembly of prelates, doctors, and other learned men, which continued its
deliberations at Tours. The chancellor opened the proceedings by denouncing
Julius as having attained the papacy by uncanonical intrigues, and having
cruelly troubled Christendom by his love for war; and the king submitted to
the council eight questions, bearing on the lawfulness of resisting an
aggressive pope by force. The answers were favourable to his wishes: it was
declared that a pope might not make war on a temporal prince except within the
church’s territory; that a prince might, in self-defence, invade the pope’s
territory, although not with a view of depriving him of it; that if a pope
should stir up other powers against a prince, the prince might withdraw from
his obedience, although only so far as might be necessary for the protection of
his own rights; that in case of such withdrawal he ought to fall back on the
ancient common law of the church and on the pragmatic sanction; that any
censures unjustly uttered by popes were not to be regarded.
While Lewis was thus endeavouring to
fortify himself by the sanction of ecclesiastical law, the pope continued to
proceed by forcible means. Neither age nor sickness could check his
impetuosity. At Bologna, where he had made his entry with great pomp on the 23rd
of September, he ordered that all who were able and willing to fight should be
assembled in the market-place; and on being informed that their numbers
amounted to 15,000 foot and 5000 horse, although he was suffering from a
violent attack of fever, he rushed from his bed to a balcony, and pronounced
his benediction on them. Towards the end of October his life was despaired of;
but he recovered, and notwithstanding the remonstrances of cardinals and
ambassadors, who endeavoured to restrain him by a regard for his spiritual
character, he set out in a litter for the siege of Mirandola. Arriving there on
the 2nd of January 1511, he took up his abode in a peasant’s hut, under the
guns of the fortress. He disregarded the frost, the heavy snow, the roughness
and scantiness of his fare. He reproved the officers around him for their
slowness; and while his pioneers fled from the discharge of the enemy’s
artillery, he himself superintended the pointing of his cannon, and gave orders
for the discharge. On returning to Mirandola, after a short intermission of the
siege, he established himself in a little chapel, still nearer to the walls
than his former quarters. A plan laid by the famous Bayard for his capture
would probably have been successful, but that a sudden snowstorm drove the pope
and his party back to their cover before they had reached the point at which
the French ambush was posted; and, on finding himself pursued in his return,
Julius with his own hand assisted in raising a drawbridge over which he had just
made his escape. Undaunted by hardships or danger, he persevered in the siege;
and when at length Mirandola was taken, he refused to enter by the gate, and
desired that a breach might be made in the wall, so that he might make his
entry in the style of a conqueror, arrayed in helmet and cuirass.
In Germany, as well as in France,
there had been manifestations of discontent against the papacy. A paper of ten
“Grievances” had been drawn up, setting forth, among other things, the abuses
of the Roman court as to dispensations, as to the ejection of bishops who had
been duly elected, as to the reservation of the greater dignities and benefices
for cardinals and papal protonotaries; as to expectancies, annates, patronage,
and indulgences; as to the exaction of tenths under pretext of crusades which
never took place; as to drawing of causes to Rome which ought to be decided on
the spot. A list of suggested “Remedies” followed; and a paper of “Advices to
the Imperial Majesty” was annexed—recommending the establishment of a
pragmatic sanction, similar to that of Bourges. In consequence of these
representations Maximilian took it on himself to issue an edict forbidding
pluralities and simony, and desired James Wimpheling, a learned jurist, who was
supposed to be the author of the Gravamina, to draw up a pragmatic sanction adapted to the circumstances of Germany.
Negotiations were attempted between
Maximilian and the pope through Matthew Lang, bishop of Gurk, who appeared at
Bologna as imperial ambassador, and was received with great marks of honour.
But Julius was offended by the assumptions of the bishop, who, when three
cardinals were sent to him, employed three gentlemen of his suite to meet them,
as if no one but the pope himself were worthy to treat with the representative
of the emperor; and Lang, on withdrawing from the court, complained of the
impossibility of moving the pope’s “obstinate and diabolical pertinacity.”
In consequence (it is said) of the
death of a cardinal at Ancona, five of his brethren, among whom Carvajal, a
Spaniard, was the leader, refused to join the pope at Bologna, and obtained
from the government of Florence permission to remain in that city. By this the
pope was greatly incensed, as he supposed their conduct to imply a charge of
poison against him, and he expressed his dissatisfaction to the Florentines.
The cardinals removed from Florence to Milan, where they openly declared
themselves in opposition to the pope. The French king had drawn the emperor
into his wish for a general council; the two sovereigns applied to the pope,
reminding him of the promise which he had made at his election, and telling him
that, in case of his refusal, they would endeavour to accomplish their object
by means of the cardinals; and they acted accordingly.
There was some discussion as to the
place where the council should be held; for while Maximilian wished it to be at
Constance, Lewis proposed Lyons, and the Italian prelates insisted that, as
reform was needed not only in the members, but in the head of the church, some
Italian city would be most suitable. On the 16th of May, three cardinals, in
the name of themselves and of six others (by some of whom the act was
afterwards disavowed), issued a document summoning the council to meet on the
1st of September at Pisa—a place which was considered of good omen, as having
been the scene of the council which deposed the antipope Anacletus, and of that
which, after deposing the rivals Gregory XII and Benedict XIII, elected
Alexander V. They announced this step to Julius, and charged him in the
meantime to refrain from creating any new cardinals. The emperor and the king
of France severally issued their citations; but it was in vain that they
endeavoured to gain the cooperation of Ferdinand, and Henry of England wrote in
strong terms to Maximilian, expressing his horror at the possibility of a
schism.
In the meantime an insurrection
broke out at Bologna. The bronze statue of Julius, lately executed by Michael
Angelo, and erected in front of the cathedral, was thrown down, dragged about
the streets with insult, and afterwards given to the duke of Ferrara, by whom
it was melted into cannon. The Bentivogli returned under French protection. The
cardinal-legate, Alidosi, whose government had been greatly detested, fled in disguise
by night, and made his way to Ravenna, where, on reporting his arrival, he was
invited to the pope’s table. But as he was on his way to the banquet, he
accidentally met the pope’s nephew, the duke of Urbino, who, after a vehement
complaint that the legate had calumniated him to Julius as inclining to the
French interest, drew out a dagger, and stabbed him mortally. The pope,
although greatly distressed by the murder, was afraid to inflict any punishment
on his nephew, lest he should go over to the enemy. He set out in deep grief
for Rome, and on arriving at Rimini, he found the announcement of the Pisan
council placarded on the door of the convent where he lodged.
On the 16th of July the pope sent
forth a bull summoning a rival council to meet in the church of St. John
Lateran on Monday after Easter-week in the following year. In this document he
defended himself as to his performance of the engagements made at his election,
professing to have been always zealously desirous of a general council, and to
have endeavoured to gain the concurrence of temporal princes towards that
object, although the fulfilment of his wishes had been prevented by public
troubles. He compared the opposing cardinals to “acephalous locusts”,
threatened them with deposition from their dignities and preferments unless
they would submit within sixty-five days, and interdicted Florence, Pisa, and
all places in which the schismatical council should meet. He laboured to stir
up his allies against it, and at the expiration of the time of grace pronounced
the refractory cardinals to be deposed, and subject to the penalties of heresy
and schism.
It soon became clear that the
council of Pisa would be a failure. The emperor’s promises of support proved to
be delusive. In laying the subject before a meeting of German prelates at
Augsburg, he found that they were present at the opening, the members of the
council were almost exclusively Frenchmen, who acted under constraint of their
sovereign. No confidence was placed in the cardinals, whose conduct in
summoning the council was attributed to motives of personal ambition. The
French king himself is said to have afterwards avowed that the assembling of it
was merely a device for rendering the pope more tractable. The number of
members was never considerable; it is said not to have exceeded four cardinals,
who held proxies for three of their brethren; two archbishops, thirteen
bishops, and five abbots; some doctors of law, among whom the most famous was
Philip Decius (or Dexio), who vigorously defended the council with his pen; and
a few representatives of universities. On attempting to enter the cathedral of
Pisa for the performance of the opening mass, they found the doors closed, and
were obliged to resort to another church, although an order from the Florentine
magistrates afterwards procured them admission to the cathedral. The clergy of
Pisa refused to lend them vestments, and left the city in obedience to the
papal interdict. In the face of these circumstances the council, under Carvajal
as president, affected to assert its authority by declaring that all that might
be attempted against it by the pope or his cardinals should be null, and that
it was not to be dissolved until the church should have been reformed in head
and in members. But the Florentines, alarmed by the pope’s sentences and
threats, became weary of allowing the rebellious assembly a place within their
territory; and after three sessions the council took occasion from a
street-affray between some servants of its members and some young men of Pisa,
to remove to Milan.
About this time Maximilian, whose
mind was singularly fertile in wild designs, conceived the strange idea of
getting himself elected to the papacy. This project appears to have been
suggested by an illness of Julius, which was so serious that for a time he was
believed to be dead, and cries were raised at Rome for the establishment of a
republic. But as the old man recovered in defiance of medical warnings and
prescriptions, Maximilian wished to be appointed his coadjutor, as a step
towards being chosen as his successor. In order to obtain the consent of the
Spanish king, he professed himself willing to resign the empire in favour of
Charles, the grandson of both; and he was ready to pledge his jewels and robes
with the Fuggers, of Augsburg, the great money-dealers of the age, in order to
raise funds for securing the votes of the cardinals. But the plan found no
favour with Julius and appears to have come to nought through its mere
extravagance.
The pope offered terms of
reconciliation to Lewis; but, as he had foreseen, they were not accepted, and
he entered into a new alliance with Aragon and Venice. Of this “holy league”
(as it was called), the declared objects were, to preserve the unity of the
church against the pretended council of Pisa, to recover Bologna and other
fiefs (among which Ferrara was understood to be included) for the Roman see,
and to drive out of Italy all who should oppose these designs. The concurrence
of England is said to have been partly gained by a cargo of presents more novel
than costly,—Greek wines, southern fruits, and other provisions, intended for
the king and the chief persons of the kingdom, and conveyed on board of the
first papal vessel that had ever anchored in the Thames.
1511-12. BATTLE
OF RAVENNA.
The French troops poured into
Lombardy under Gaston de Foix, duke of Nemours; and it is at this time that
Lewis is commonly supposed to have met the papal threats of interdict by
striking the medal which bears the motto Perdam
Babilonis Nomen. The council, which was sitting at Milan, professed to
authorize Gaston, through its legate the cardinal of St. Severino, to occupy
the States of the Church until St. Peter’s chair should be filled by a
lawfully-chosen pope. Brescia, which had risen against the French, was taken,
and the capture was followed by extraordinary excesses of spoliation, cruelty,
and brutality. But at the great battle of Ravenna, fought on Easter-day 1512,
although the French general gained a brilliant victory over the allied Spanish
and papal troops, he himself fell, at the age of twenty-four. Among the
prisoners taken by the French was the cardinal-legate of Bologna, John de’
Medici, whom they carried off to Milan. But there, when he offered the
absolution which the pope had authorized him to bestow on all who would promise
never again to bear arms against the church, his captors crowded around him,
entreating his pardon and blessing; while the members of the antipapal council
could not show themselves in the streets without being pursued with jeers,
curses, and insulting gestures. The French army, weakened by an order which the
emperor had issued for the recall of the Germans who were serving in it, and by
the desertion of many soldiers who had returned to their own country after
sharing in the plunder of Brescia, was needed at home for defence against the
English; and as it retreated through the Milanese territory, before a force of
20,000 Swiss, which had entered Italy by the Tyrol for the service of the pope
and of Venice, the inhabitants rose against the stragglers, and slaughtered
many in revenge for the late outrages. The sentence of suspension which the
council affected to issue against the pope, after attempts to draw him into
summoning another general council, and after several delays and extensions of
the time of grace allowed him, was received with general mockery; and the
residue of the unfortunate assembly, after having removed to Asti and thence to
Lyons, vanished so obscurely that its end was not observed.
Julius had treated all the messages
of the opposition council with contempt. He had not been dismayed by the
successes of the French, and had rejected, even with anger, a suggestion that
he should withdraw for safety to Naples. And three weeks after the battle of
Ravenna—only a fortnight later than the time originally appointed—he assembled
the fifth Lateran council. The proceedings were opened by Giles of Viterbo,
general of the Augustine friars, and afterwards a cardinal, who, in a discourse
which was greatly admired, spoke of the evils and dangers of the time, of the
benefits of synods, the providential care which had been shown in the
protection of the pope, the mischiefs of schism, the necessity of
ecclesiastical and moral reformation, and the duty of arming against the
general enemy of Christendom.
The first and second sessions were
chiefly occupied by formal business. At the third session, Matthew Lang, bishop
of Gurk, appeared, and produced a commission from Maximilian, with whom the
pope had lately concluded an alliance. In this document the emperor signified
his adhesion to the council, and authorized his representative to do all that
might be possible for the restoration of unity. The bishop then declared that
in the emperor’s name he revoked and annulled all that had been done in the conciliabulum of Pisa, for which, he
said, the emperor had never given any mandate; and he and a lay envoy of
Maximilian reverently kissed the pope’s feet. At the same session was read and
accepted a bull, reprobating and annulling all the proceedings of the
refractory cardinals, and renewing an order by which Julius, in the preceding
August, had interdicted all France, with the exception of Brittany, and had
even condescended to gratify his enmity against the French by so petty an act
of vengeance as the removal of a fair from Lyons to Geneva.
At the fourth session the question
of the pragmatic sanction was brought before the council. After a reading of
the instrument by which Lewis XI had abrogated it, the advocate of the council,
Melchior Bardassini, requested that the pragmatic sanction should be revoked
and annulled, and that a monition should be addressed to such ecclesiastical
and lay persons of eminence in France as might be interested in it, requiring
them to appear and to show cause why it should not be abolished. Two bulls of
the proposed tenor were thereupon produced, and received the approbation of the
council.
Julius had quarrelled with his
Venetian allies, partly as to some territories which he claimed on the Po; and
while the republic concluded a treaty with France, the pope, as we have seen,
allied himself with the emperor. But whereas Maximilian set up pretensions to
the duchy of Milan for himself or one of his grandsons, the pope, who could
endure no foreign dominion in Italy, favoured the claims of Maximilian Sforza,
son of Lewis the Moor. This claimant entered the capital on the 29th of
December; and it appeared as if Julius were on the point of completing his work
of expelling the “barbarians” from Italy, when he was seized with an illness
which seemed likely to be fatal. In consequence of this he was unable to be
present at the fifth session of the Lateran council, which was held on the 16th
of February 1513; but he got from it a confirmation of a bull which he had sent
forth eight years before, and had since republished, with a view to checking
the practice of simony in elections to the papacy. The pope retained to the
last his clearness of mind and his strength of will. With regard to the
cardinals who had been concerned in the council of Pisa, he declared that as a
private man he forgave them, and prayed that God would forgive the injuries
which they had done to the church, but that as pope he must condemn them; and
he ordered that they should be excluded from the election of his successor. On
the night of the 21st of February Julius breathed his last, at the age of
seventy.
On the 4th of March twenty-five
cardinals met for the election of a successor to the papacy. The warlike
ambition of Julius had produced so much of trouble that there was among them a
general wish to fill the chair with a pope of very opposite character. The
younger cardinals especially resolved to make their influence felt, and among
them the most active was Alfonso Petrucci, cardinal of St. Theodore, and son of
the lord of Siena. Raphael Riario, the senior and richest member of the
college, whom some cardinals were disposed to choose in the hope of sharing in
the great preferments which would become vacant by his election, was soon set
aside—partly on account of his relationship to Sixtus IV and the late pope, and
partly from doubts as to his capacity; and on the 11th of March the election
fell on John de’ Medici, who had entered the conclave two days later than the
other cardinals. He had been detained on his journey from Florence by an
ailment which is supposed to have induced some of his brethren to vote for him
on the ground that it seemed likely to shorten his life. It is said that
Petrucci, in announcing the election of the new pope, as Leo the Tenth, to the
people, shouted out, “Life and health to the juniors!” The result was hailed
with general acclamation.
Leo at the time of his election was
only thirty-seven years of age. His early promotion to the cardinalate, and his
expulsion with the rest of his family from Florence, have been already
mentioned. During his exile from his native city he had travelled with a party
of friends in Germany, France, and the Low Countries, and had lived some years
at Genoa, where his sister and her husband, Franceschetto Cibò, had established
themselves. There he became intimate with Julian della Rovere, who, like
himself, was under the disfavour of pope Alexander; and when his friend became
pope, cardinal de’ Medici removed to Rome. Under the pontificate of Julius he
lived in splendour, and showed that he had inherited the tastes of his family
by his patronage of literature and art. He threw open to all a noble library,
including as many of the manuscripts collected by the Medici as he had been able
to recover by purchase after the troubles of Florence; his palace became a
resort of painters, sculptors, musicians, and men of letters; but so far did
the expense of indulging his tastes exceed his means of gratifying them, that
he is said to have been sometimes reduced to pledge his silver plate in order
to procure a supply of the most necessary materials for an intended banquet.
The cardinal had been sent as legate
to Bologna, at the head of a force which was intended to reduce the city after
the revolt of 1511; and when the Spanish general Cardona, who commanded the
besieging troops, through disregarding his advice, had allowed the French to
advance to the relief of the Bolognese, the legate appeared at the battle of
Ravenna, where, as we have seen, he was made prisoner. From this captivity he
was able to make his escape; and within a short time he shared in the restoration
of his family to Florence—for which he had contributed to pave the way by the
attention which he was accustomed to bestow on Florentine visitors during his
residence at Rome.
As the pope had not yet advanced
beyond the order of deacon, he was ordained as priest on the 15th of March, and
as bishop on the 17th; and he was hastily enthroned on the 19th, in order to
avoid interference with the rites of the holy week. But Leo was not content
with this imperfect ceremony, and a more splendid coronation was celebrated at
the Lateran on the 11th of April. In the great procession the gods of Olympus
and other heathen elements were mingled, according to the taste of the age; and
the pope rode the same Turkish horse which, on the same day of the preceding
year, had carried him at the battle of Ravenna. The cost of this second
coronation amounted to 100,000 ducats; and such an outlay for such a purpose
contrasted strongly with the practice of Julius II, who, while he incurred
enormous expenses on account of his wars, had spent very little on display.
Magnificence and expense were characteristic of Leo’s court, and in order to
find the necessary means he had recourse to the disreputable expedients of
promoting cardinals for money, and of creating offices for sale. Even the
luxury of his table was extraordinary. He encouraged invention in the culinary
art; the flesh of monkeys and crows, and other unusual kinds of food were
served up before him by way of experiment; and the discovery of peacock
sausages was regarded as the highest triumph of genius in this department. His
banquets were enlivened by the brilliant conversation of wits, and by the follies
of bad poets, whom he condescended to entertain for the sake of the amusement
which their vanity and their absurdities afforded him. The court was a scene of
continual diversions, which were not always of the gravest character. The
pope’s favourite companions were gay, and for the most part highly-born, young
cardinals. One of them, Bernard Dovizi, who from his birthplace was called
Bibbiena, wrote comedies of a somewhat free character, which were acted by
young performers in the Vatican; and every year a party of comedians, known as
the “Academy of the Roughs”, was brought from Siena for the diversion of the
father of Christendom. Card-playing for heavy stakes was a common sequel of the
pope’s banquets; and, whether a winner or a loser, he was in the habit of
throwing gold pieces among the spectators of the game. He condemned the
practice of dice-playing, however, as dangerous to fortune and morals.
Painters, sculptors, architects, musicians, and artists of all other kinds,
found Leo a munificent patron; nor was literature neglected in the distribution
of his favours, although it seems to have received but an inferior share of
them. Before leaving the conclave at which he had been elected, he appointed as
his private secretaries two elegant scholars, Bembo and Sadoleto, who
afterwards became cardinals. He also promoted to the cardinalate some eminent
divines, such as Thomas de Vio (known by the name of Cajetan), Sylvester
Prierias, and Giles of Viterbo. But the learning which he chiefly favoured was
not theological. His own acquirements in theology were confessedly scanty;
while, as might have been expected in a pupil of Politian, he delighted in the
writings of the Greek and Roman poets. His favourite amusement was hunting, in
which he engaged with a zeal regardless of season, of weather, and of
unwholesome air; and nothing disturbed his usually placid temper more surely
than any breach of the laws of sport.
That Leo had little of piety or
devotion in his character appears unquestionable. But his defects as to
religion may be described as those of a man of the world too much addicted to
its objects and enjoyments. The charges which have been brought against his
morals appear to have been greatly exaggerated and maliciously darkened; and
the tales which represent him as an unbeliever in the Christian revelation may
be regarded as utterly groundless. Good-natured as Leo usually was, he
sometimes showed himself stern. He beheaded Baglioni, who (as we have seen) had
made himself tyrant of Perugia, for acts of tyranny, robbery, and murder,
notwithstanding the intercessions of the Orsini; he hanged a doctor of laws for
producing forged documents in a suit; and he punished with unsparing severity
the conspiracy of cardinal Petrucci.
Leo was desirous, like his predecessor,
to exclude the rule of foreigners from Italy; but his ambition was of a lower
kind than that which had thrown a sort of grandeur over the schemes of Julius,
and had in some degree covered the unscrupulous nature of the means which he
employed. It was not for the church, for the papacy, or for Italy that the
Medicean pope laboured, but for his own family. His eagerness to forward the
interests of his relations was shown immediately after his election by his
appointing his cousin Julius, a knight of Rhodes, and son of the victim of the
Pazzian conspiracy, to the archbishopric of Florence; and to this were soon
added the dignity of cardinal and the legation of Bologna. At a later time
great troubles arose out of his endeavours to provide a principality for a
nephew by uniting Parma and Piacenza with Reggio, and, on the failure of that
plan, by bestowing on him the duchy of Ferrara, which was for that purpose to
be taken from Alfonso d’Este; and in a lower degree the pope was noted for his
partiality for his countrymen in general,—so that Rome, to the disgust of its
native citizens, swarmed with Florentines who were employed in all sorts of
offices and occupations.
1514-15. BATTLE
OF MARIGNANO.
Leo had followed Julius in his
hostility to France; and he was a party to a new league which was concluded
against that power at Mechlin, in April 1513, between the emperor, the king of
England, and the king of Spain, although neither the pope nor Ferdinand
formally signed it. But the course of events speedily induced him to change his
policy. The French, after some successes in northern Italy, were defeated at
Novara by Swiss troops in the interest of Maximilian Sforza, and were
driven back across the Alps, while the fortresses which had been held for them
in Italy surrendered, and by the disasters of France the power of Spain became
more alarming, as the vast dominions of that country (including its
acquisitions in the new world), of Austria, Naples, and the Netherlands, with
the dignity of emperor, were likely to be soon united under the young Charles,
the grandson of Ferdinand and of Maximilian. The pope, therefore, was disposed
to conciliate the French king, who, partly from his own regard for the papacy,
and yet more in consequence of his consort’s importunities, was ready to
abandon the unsuccessful council which he had assembled in opposition to Leo’s
predecessor. An agreement was easily concluded ; and at the eighth session of
the Lateran council it was declared that Lewis adhered to that council, and
undertook to expel the rival assembly from Lyons or any other place in his
dominions, while the pope recalled all the censures which had been uttered
against France. The schismatical cardinals Carvajal and San Severino, who had
been arrested in Tuscany on their way to the conclave, had at the seventh
session petitioned the council for pardon, and, on making their humble
submission to the pope, and abjuring the council of Pisa, had a few days later
been reinstated in their dignity.
Within three weeks after the
reconciliation of France with the papacy, queen Anne of Brittany died; and on
the first day of the year 1415, her death was followed by that of Lewis XII,
who in the meantime had married a third wife—the young princess Mary of
England. The crown of France descended to Francis, duke of Angouleme, the first
prince of the blood, and son-in-law of the late king. At the time of his
accession, Francis was only twenty years old. He was possessed of showy
qualities, personal and mental, which won for him admiration and popularity;
but he was thoroughly selfish and hard-hearted, voluptuous, unsteady, and
faithless; and these grave faults were more and more developed with advancing
years.
The new king at once signified his
intention of prosecuting his predecessor’s designs on Italy by assuming the
title of duke of Milan; and in August he crossed the Alps into Lombardy—a
country devastated, exhausted, and reduced to misery by the sufferings of
years, during which it had been the battleground of French and Spanish, German
and Venetian, armies. The glory acquired by Gaston de Foix during his brief
career stimulated the emulation of the young Francis. At the battle of
Marignano, the greatest action of the age, which the veteran general Trivulzio
declared to be a battle of giants, in comparison of which all his former
engagements were but as children’s play, the king’s desire of glory was
gratified by a signal victory over the Swiss, who until then had been regarded
as invincible; and when the fight was over, he distinguished the “fearless and
blameless knight”, Bayard, by asking and receiving knighthood at his hands. In
consequence of this battle, Maximilian Sforza, who had never been able to gain
a firm hold on the Milanese, gave up all pretensions to the duchy of Milan, and
withdrew to a life of privacy in France.
After some negotiation Leo sought a
conference with Francis, and the two potentates met at Bologna. Francis showed
the pope all ceremonious marks of reverence by kissing his feet, his hand, and
his mouth, holding his train, and serving him at mass. And the result of the
conference was greatly in favour of Leo. He obtained the king’s consent to his
designs on the duchy of Urbino; he put off his request for investiture in
Naples by holding out hopes of the changes which might follow on the expected
death of Ferdinand of Spain. But the most important business of the conference
related to the pragmatic sanction, which for three-quarters of a century had
been a subject of contention between France and the papacy. The late pope, at
the fourth session of the Lateran council, had cited the king, the princes, the
bishops, and the parliaments of France, to show cause why the law should not be
abrogated. At the ninth session (May 5, 1514) the procurator of the council reported
that the French had not obeyed this summons; but the bishop of Marseilles
explained that the prelates of France had been unable to procure a safe-conduct
from the duke of Milan. On this, the Milanese ambassador said that his master
had not refused a safe-conduct, but had required time for consideration; and
the subject was further discussed at the following session.
Leo now succeeded in arranging with
Francis that that sanction should be abolished, and a new concordat should be
substituted for it. The blame of this concession was laid by the French on the
king’s chancellor, Duprat, whom the pope had gained to his interest by the hope
of the cardinalate and of other rewards. In return for his concessions the
king obtained the dignity of cardinal for Adrian de Boissy, bishop of Coutances
and brother of the grand-master of France, with a discharge as to certain
moneys which had been collected as if for a crusade, and had been detained by
Lewis XII; and in addition to these favours, the pope professed to bestow on
him new privileges with regard to ecclesiastical elections.
The terms of the concordat were
settled at Bologna in August 1516, and were ratified by the Lateran council at
its eleventh session, on the 19th of December—one bishop only expressing any
difference of opinion. Elections in cathedrals and monasteries were abolished,
on account of the alleged evil consequences. In case of the vacancy of a see,
the king was within six months to present to the pope a person not under
twenty-seven years of age, and having certain other qualifications. If he
should present one not so qualified, he might within a further time of three
months present another; and in case of delay, the pope might appoint a bishop,
as he was also authorized to do when a vacancy was caused by the death of a
prelate at the Roman court. Exceptions were, however, made as to some of the
qualifications in the case of persons of royal or high birth, and of friars who
by the statutes of their order were unable to take the prescribed degrees. A
like rule was established as to monasteries, where the heads were to be chosen
from persons of the same order to which the monks belonged, and not under
twenty-three years of age. The bull of Boniface VIII known as Unam Sanctam, with the slight modification
of it introduced by Clement V, was reenacted, and the pragmatic sanction—which
was spoken; of as “the Bourges corruption of the kingdom of France”—was
abolished. Thus the pope, in order to conciliate the king, had made over to the
crown a large part of the privileges which were taken from the French church.
The Roman practices of reservation and expectative graces were given up, but
the pope found his compensation in the recovery of the annates.
The report of the concordat was
received in France with general indignation and disgust. The students of the
university of Paris broke out into tumult, and dragged about the streets a
figure of the chancellor Duprat, whom they regarded as the betrayer of the
national church. Preachers loudly denounced from the pulpit the sacrifice of
ecclesiastical liberty. When Francis convened at the Palace of Justice a great
assembly of the parliament, the bishops, the chapter of the cathedral, and the
chief doctors of the university, the concordat and the chancellor’s explanations
of it, with his statement that it must be regarded as a remedy for worse evils,
were received with loud cries of disapprobation. When the king sent forth
letters patent, by which the courts were ordered to take the concordat for the
basis of their future judgments, the advocate-general, instead of requiring
that the concordat and the letters should be registered by the parliament,
desired that the pragmatic sanction might be maintained, and appealed “against
the congregation which claimed the title of Lateran council.”
The parliament of Paris blamed the
re-imposition of annates as a measure which would beggar the kingdom, and also
as simoniacal. It appealed “to the pope better advised, and to the first
lawfully assembled council”; and in this it was followed by provincial
parliaments. The university of Paris appealed in like manner, and forbade all
printers and booksellers to circulate the obnoxious document under pain of
being rejected from the academic body.
Francis, in no less indignation, met
these demonstrations by threats, and by high-handed measures. He imprisoned
some members of the university who had made themselves conspicuous in
opposition to the concordat. But the parliament still carried on a long war of
formalities, in the hope of delaying, if not of preventing, the enforcement of
the new system. Chapters and monastic bodies continued to elect their heads,
and the parliaments maintained the men so chosen, to the exclusion of the
king’s nominees. The courts affected to act and to decide as if the pragmatic
sanction were still in force, until Francis, in 1527, by transferring the
cognizance of ecclesiastical causes from them to the great council of state,
procured a reluctant submission to the concordats The chief remaining trace of
the Gallican liberties was to be found in that freer tone of thought by which
the French church was until very recent times distinguished from other portions
of the Roman communion.
The Lateran council, although more
considerable as to numbers than that of Pisa, had never been largely attended,
and the greater part of its members (who at the utmost did not exceed sixteen
cardinals and about a hundred bishops and abbots) were Italians or bishops in partibus, although there were also
representatives of England, Spain, and Hungary. Under Leo it had become merely
an instrument of the papal policy. A few decrees for reform of the curia and
other such objects were passed in later sessions; but they were so limited by
exceptions and reservations that little effect was to be expected from them.
There was also a project of an alliance between Christian sovereigns against
the Turks. There was a condemnation of some sceptical opinions which had been
vented as to the eternity of the world and the mortality of the soul; and, in
order to check the indulgence in such speculations, it was decreed that no
student in any university should spend more than five years in philosophical
and poetical studies without also studying theology or canon law, either
instead of such subjects or together with them.
The council broke up at its twelfth
session, on the 16th of March 1517, having enabled the pope to triumph over the
threatened schism, and to gain a victory over the church of France which placed
his authority higher than it had ever stood in that country. On the 31st of
October in the same year, Martin Luther began the great movement against the
authority of Rome by publishing his ninety-five propositions at Wittenberg.
CHAPTER VII.
PROPAGATION OF
THE GOSPEL—MEASURES AGAINST JEWS AND MAHOMETANS IN SPAIN—WITCHCRAFT—SECTARIES—FORERUNNERS
OF THE REFORMATION.
Christianity was now professed throughout the
European countries, although in the Byzantine empire it had been forced to
stoop under the ascendency of the victorious Turks. We also meet with
occasional notices of missions to some of the regions which had been the chief
scenes of such enterprise in the ages immediately preceding—as when Eugenius
IV, in 1433, sent a bishop and twenty Franciscans into the countries bordering
on the Caspian Sea. But the progress of geographical discovery opened new
fields for missionary labour.
Thus the Portuguese, carrying their
explorations along the coast of Africa, made settlements in Congo, where many
of the natives were brought to receive baptism. In 1497, the passage to India
round the Cape of Good Hope was discovered by the same nation; and in their
intercourse with the east they were brought into acquaintance with the church
of Abyssinia, which they supposed to be the country of Prester John, and with
that of Malabar, which traced its origin to St. Thomas.
But the discoveries of the
Spaniards, which revealed a new world to Europe, were yet more important.
Christopher Columbus, himself a Genoese, after fruitless endeavours to
recommend to various potentates the project which he had conceived of reaching
the Indies by a western course, gained with difficulty the patronage of
Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain. He set sail on his first voyage in August
1492, and returned in March 1493, having discovered the West Indian islands;
and by him and his successors in adventure, a large portion of the great
western continent was explored within the following years. The newly-found
territories, according to a principle which the popes had succeeded in establishing,
were supposed to belong to the apostolic see; and Alexander VI was requested to
decide between the claims of the two neighbouring nations which had been
foremost in the work of discovery. In May 1493, Alexander VI issued a bull, by
which the boundary line was fixed at 100 leagues west of the Cape de Verde
islands and of the Azores, all new discoveries within this line being assigned
to Portugal, while all beyond it were to belong to Spain. But the Portuguese
were dissatisfied with the award; and in the following year the Spaniards and
the pope consented that the boundary should be drawn 370 leagues westward of
the Azores.
In dealing with such questions, the
pope inculcated on the discoverers the duty of spreading the gospel in the countries
which had come under their dominion; and some missions to the natives were very
early set on foot. But it would be of little use to enter on any account of
these missions, when all but the very beginning of their work belongs to a
later period of history.
While it was desired and intended
that the knowledge of the Christian faith should be propagated by peaceful and
gentle means among the heathens of the newly-discovered countries, measures of
a very different kind were employed in order to force it on the Jews and the
Mahometans of Spain. For this purpose the inquisition, which during the schism
of the papacy seemed to have been dormant, was now revived in that country,
with new circumstances of iniquity and cruelty, which have made the Spanish inquisition
an object of especially profound and deserved abhorrence.
The union of Aragon and Castile
under Ferdinand and Isabella suggested the idea of establishing entire unity of
religion among their subjects; and, while with Ferdinand religion was commonly
little better than a pretext for a selfish and treacherous secular policy, the
mind of his more estimable consort was much under the influence of the clergy.
Thomas de Torquemada, who had acquired a power over her by having been her
confessor in early life, is said to have exacted a promise that, if she should
inherit the crown, she would devote herself to the extirpation of heresy, for
the glory of God. The earnestness with which Torquemada and others now urged
the fulfilment of this promise overpowered the queen’s natural tenderness, and
she was reluctantly persuaded to request of Sixtus IV that an inquisition might
be established in Castile. On All Saints’ day, 1478, the pope issued a bull
for this purpose. The new inquisition was distinguished by its peculiar
connexion with the state; the members of the tribunal were to be appointed by
the sovereigns, and might be dismissed by them; and the property of the victims
was to be confiscated to the crown. The bishops had no share in the management
of the inquisition, but were themselves subject to the action of this new and
irresponsible power. Even the papacy, after a time, found itself unable to cope
with the inquisitors on their own ground.
In 1483, the organization of the
tribunal was completed by the nomination of Torquemada as chief inquisitor
for Castile, and he was confirmed in his office by Innocent VIII, in 1486. Four
years after his original appointment, his power was extended to Aragon, where
an inquisition had been established by Gregory IX for the suppression of the
Albigensian doctrines, but had latterly differed little from an ordinary
ecclesiastical court. The new institution speedily gave signs of activity. It
surrounded itself with a host of “familiars”—spies, and ministers of its tyranny;
indeed the machinery was so extensive that the cost of it almost absorbed all
the funds which were obtained by confiscations and fines. Every year, in the
beginning of Lent, the clergy were required to declare from the pulpit the duty
of informing against any who might be suspected of religious error— even the
nearest relations; and the information thus obtained by secret, and often
anonymous, accusations, was used against the persons denounced, with more than
all the injustice which had marked the proceedings of the inquisition in other
countries and in its earlier stages. No fair opportunity of defence was
allowed; and torture was employed to wring out confessions. The severities of
the inquisition began on the Epiphany of 1481, when six victims were committed
to the flames at Seville; and within the following ten months, 298 were burnt
in that city alone. During the first few years of its operations, 2000 were
burnt alive in Spain, and a still greater number were burnt in effigy, having
been driven to seek their safety in exile. Torquemada, by proclaiming an offer
of pardon to all who should voluntarily surrender themselves, induced about
17,000—“men and women of all ages and conditions”—to seek reconciliation with
the church, although this commonly involved such penalties as heavy fines, or
total confiscation of property, civil disabilities, or imprisonment, which in
many cases was for life.
In Aragon—a country which had
enjoyed much of liberty, and where many of the chief families, from intermarriage
with persons of Jewish descent, were likely to fall under the suspicion of the
new tribunal—a spirit of indignation was aroused. The cortes remonstrated
against the inquisition, both at the Spanish court and at Rome; they protested
that the practice of confiscation, and the denial of a fair and open trial,
were violations of their hereditary privileges. The chief inquisitor of the province,
Peter Arbues, was mortally wounded while attending a midnight office in the
cathedral of Saragossa; and it was found that the assassins had been hired by
the contributions of many nobles, and of many converts from Judaism. The crime
was immediately punished; but there were serious tumults throughout the
kingdom. The cortes renewed their remonstrances from time to time against the
horrible tyranny which had been imposed on their country.
Torquemada himself lived in constant
fear of a violent end. It is said that he endeavoured to fortify himself
against poison by having always on his table a horn, which was supposed to be
that of an unicorn, and to be an infallible test of its presence; and he never
stirred abroad without a strong body-guard. He was thrice obliged to send his
colleague Badaja to defend him at Rome, where charges had been preferred
against him; and in 1494 Alexander VI appointed four bishops to be his
coadjutors, under the pretext that his age required assistance, but in reality
to mitigate his severity. The Roman court, in its eagerness to get money by all
means, attempted to sell exemptions from the authority of the inquisition and
pardons for offences condemned by it; but the tribunal was too strong, and
Alexander was obliged to give up this source of gain.
The first objects of the
inquisition’s zeal were the Jews, who in Spain had advanced more than in any
other country as to wealth, culture, and general prosperity. Many of them from
time to time had professed Christianity; many noble houses had sought to
improve their fortunes by alliances with these “new Christians”; and not a few
of them had attained high dignities, as well in the hierarchy as in the state.
The inquisition now set itself to search out any symptoms of Judaism among the
descendants of converts, and to punish it with unsparing severity, as a
relapse. The old stories of outrages against the holy Eucharist, of
administering poison in the character of physicians, of stealing and
crucifying Christian children, were revived against the Jews, and a more
general measure for the suppression of Judaism in Spain was designed. The
unfortunate people endeavoured to avert this by offering largely towards the
expenses of the Moorish war; but while the matter was under consideration,
Torquemada burst into the royal council, holding the crucifix in his hands; he
told the sovereigns that to accept such an offer would be like the bargain of
Judas, who sold his master; and dashing the crucifix on the floor, he
indignantly departed. After the capture of Granada, Ferdinand and Isabella
issued from that city an order that all Jews should before the end of July
either submit to baptism or go into exile. They were allowed to sell their
property, and to carry away the value of it in bills of exchange, but were
forbidden to take with them gold, silver, or precious stones.
The Jews disposed of their
possessions at a grievous loss, and at the appointed time they left the land
which for many generations had sheltered their forefathers. The greater part
sought a refuge in Portugal, where king John II was willing to admit them on
payment of a tax for each person; but his successor, Emanuel, pledged himself,
as a condition of marrying a Spanish princess, to imitate the policy of
Ferdinand and Isabella by requiring the fugitives to choose between baptism and
exile. Such of them as refused to be baptized were shipped off to Africa, where
they suffered extreme miseries. Many died of hardship or of ill-usage; some
struggled to a Spanish settlement, where they made profession of Christianity,
in the hope of being allowed to return to Spain. Of those who sought a refuge
elsewhere, some repaired to Rome, to appeal to Alexander VI against an
intolerance of which the popes themselves had given no example; and Ferdinand
remonstrated with Alexander for having (for the sake of money, as it appears)
allowed them to pitch their tents on the Appian way, near the tomb of Caecilia
Metella.
At the conquest of Granada, the
catholic sovereigns had promised to the Moors by treaty the free exercise of
their religion, with other privileges which might mitigate the loss of their
independence. But in this case too it was regarded as a duty to establish unity
of religion. Francis de Talavera, the first archbishop of Granada, wished to
pave the way for the acceptance of the Christian faith by means of conviction
and with this view he himself, although no longer young, undertook to learn the
language of the Moors; he encouraged his clergy to do the like, and promoted
the compilation of vocabularies, and the translation of some parts of Scripture
into Arabic.
But a different course was taken by
the most prominent ecclesiastic of the Spanish church in that age, Francis
Ximenes de Cisneros. Ximenes, who was born in 1436, of a family belonging to
the poorer class of nobility, had in earlier life given many proofs of a
resolute character and of a burning ecclesiastical zeal. After having spent six
years in study at Rome, he had obtained from the pope a presentation to an
“expected” archpriestship in the diocese of Toledo. The archbishop, Carillo, to
whom the patronage ordinarily belonged, regarding this as an invasion of his
rights, endeavoured to make him relinquish it, and on his refusal committed him
to prison; but, as Ximenes at the end of six years showed no disposition to
yield, the archbishop set him at liberty, and allowed him to take possession of
his benefice. Ximenes, however, exchanged it for one in the diocese of
Siguenza, where, under the bishop, Mendoza, he was speedily promoted, and
appeared to have a prosperous career before him, when he suddenly resigned his
preferments and entered the Franciscan order, exchanging his baptismal name,
Gonsalvo, for that of the founder. He plunged into a course of the severest
austerities, and after a time withdrew to a remote and lonely chestnut forest,
where he built himself a little hut with his own hands. From this retreat he
was drawn forth by his monastic superiors; and in 1492, through the
recommendation of his old patron Mendoza, then archbishop of Toledo, he was
appointed confessor to the queen. The reluctance with which he undertook this
office appears to have been sincere, and he was yet more unwilling to accept
the archbishopric of Toledo after the death of Mendoza, in 1495. The large
revenues of his see were spent on ecclesiastical and charitable objects; he
even undertook at his own expense a crusade in Africa; while his own habits
were of the most rigidly simple kind. As provincial of his order in Castile, he
had carried out a reform of the Franciscan convents, where discipline was
greatly decayed; and under the authority of papal privileges he had extended
his reforms, with characteristic resolution, to other monastic orders and to
the secular clergy.
Arriving at Granada in 1499, while
the king and queen were visiting that city, Ximenes vehemently urged on them
the duty of extirpating the Mahometan religion from their dominions. The
capitulations he set aside with scorn, as a compromise with evil which could
have no validity. While Talavera was for awaiting the results of instruction,
Ximenes held that baptism should be administered at once, on the ground that,
if the profession of Christianity were insincere on the part of the recipient,
it would become real in the next generation. He was willing that there should
be catechisms and popular elementary books in the vernacular tongue, but held
that, until converts should have been brought by these to a love of the gospel,
they were not fit to receive the Scriptures, but were likely rather to
dishonour them; nor would he allow the sacred books to be in any other tongue
than those of the originals and of the Vulgate. He entered into conferences
with Moorish doctors, and discoursed with fiery vehemence on the doctrines of
the faith. He even burdened his see in order to find the means of bribing the
Moors to embrace the gospel, and his zeal is said to have been rewarded by vast
numbers of conversions, so that in a single day he baptized more than 3000
proselytes by aspersion. Where the milder methods of persuasion were
ineffectual, he did not scruple to make use of chains and other forcible means.
Although he was noted for his munificent patronage of learning, his religious
intolerance led him to order the destruction of all Arabic books except such as
related to medical science; and it is said that 80,000 volumes—among them 5000
copies of the Koran, of which many were enriched with splendid illuminations
and with precious ornaments—were committed to the flames. The exasperated
people of Granada broke out into insurrection and besieged the primate in the
archiepiscopal palace; and after having been rescued, chiefly through the
mediation of Talavera, he repaired to the court at Seville, where he pressed on
Ferdinand and Isabella the necessity of dealing with the Mahometans as they had
dealt with the Jews.
On the 12th of February 1502, a
decree was published by which all male Moors above fourteen years of age, and
all females above twelve, were required either to receive baptism or to leave
the kingdom before the end of April. Like the Jews, they were forbidden to
carry with them gold, silver, or jewels, and they were charged not to betake
themselves to the dominions of the Grand Turk, or of any enemy of Spain.
In consequence of this edict
multitudes left the country. Some were imprisoned, and children under the ages
named were forcibly tom from their parents. But many submitted to baptism and
remained; and these new Christians, whose profession was justly suspected,
were watched by all men with jealousy, and continually furnished victims for
the tyranny of the inquisition.
As in former times, the inquisition
concerned itself not only with heresy, but with witchcraft—a thing which
Gratian, in his ‘Decretum,’ had spoken of as a pagan delusion, but which had
come to be more and more a matter of popular belief. Witchcraft was regarded as
more detestable than heresy, because, in addition to impiety, it included
malignity and hurt to mankind; and for the same reason, as being a civil
offence, it was liable to prosecution by the secular magistrates, as well as by
the clergy. Many cases of such prosecution are found during this time in
Italy, Germany, France, and other countries; but the most remarkable was that
which occurred at Arras, in 1459. The first person who was brought to trial was
a woman of disreputable life; but gradually the victims were taken from higher
and higher stations, and were chosen with an evident regard to their wealth.
The offence imputed to them was styled Vauderie; yet, although this word
appeared to connect them with the Waldensian sectaries, the charges and the
evidence seem to relate wholly to the practice of sorcery; indeed, their story
is a proof how readily the imputation of heresy might run into the yet more
odious suspicion of witchcraft. Some of the accused, on being put to the
torture, confessed monstrous things—that they had been conveyed by the devil
to the meetings of the party, riding through the air on an anointed stick, and
that at those meetings they had practised obscene, revolting, and absurd rites
and abominations. On these avowals they were condemned, and were made over to the
secular arm; whereupon they burst out into loud complaints against their
counsel for having led them to suppose that, by confessing whatever might be
laid to their charge, they might save their lives ; and they steadfastly
declared their confessions to be entirely false. It was in vain that Giles
Carlier, dean of Cambray, endeavoured to bring them off with a slight penance;
the bishop of Berytus, who was suffragan of Arras and had been a papal
penitentiary, urged on the trial with rigour. Many were put to death by fire;
some were sentenced to imprisonment for life, or to the payment of heavy fines.
The excitement produced by these
trials was immense, and for a time general uneasiness and suspicion reigned
throughout the north of France. But some of those whom the inquisitors had
ventured to accuse appealed to the parliament of Paris, which in 1461 put a
stop to the processes as groundless. It was not, however, until thirty years
later, when Artois had reverted to the French crown, that the parliament of Paris
gave its final decision, by which the processes were declared to be abusive
and null, and the heirs of the duke of Burgundy, and of the chief persons
concerned in them, were condemned to make reparation to the representatives of
the sufferers. The use of torture in such cases was forbidden, and in
consequence of the indignation excited by the Arras trials, the inquisition
disappeared in France.
In 1484 Innocent VIII addressed a
letter to the Germans, in which he set forth the rifeness of magical practices,
and the manifold dangers with which society was threatened by them. In order to
check these evils, he appointed two Dominicans, James Sprenger and Henry Kramer
(in Latin called Institor), inquisitors for Germany, and invested them with
powers which trenched on the province of the secular magistracy. These learned
personages, by way of warning, published at Cologne in 1489 a book entitled
‘The Hammer of Witches’, which is a strange compendium of the superstitions of
the age. From this time prosecutions for witchcraft became more frequent than
before; and, after the pope’s formal acknowledgment of the reality of the
crime, any doubt as to its existence was regarded as impious. The fifth Lateran
council forbade all magical practices, whether by clergy or by laity, under
severe penalties.
REGINALD PECOCK
During this period we often meet
with notices which show that opinions, which had been the cause of serious
commotions in earlier ages, continued to exist, although more obscurely than
before. Thus, about the middle of the fifteenth century, we find mention of
Manicheans or cathari in Bosnia, where the king’s father-in-law and many other
persons of high station were among the followers of the heresy. The eloquence
of John of Capistrano is said to have converted multitudes from this form of
error in Transylvania and the Danubian countries,—among them the chief of the
sect, whom he baptized. We read of fraticelli “of the opinion”, as they are
sometimes styled, who lurked about Italy, and even of attempts to spread the
doctrines of the party in Ireland. We find turlupins put to death at Lille in
1465, and, while the charges against them are mostly of the usual kind, one
article relates to a denial of the Holy Ghost. The Waldenses in the valleys of
Dauphiny and northern Italy attract from time to time the notice of the
ecclesiastical authorities; and the same party appears in Bohemia as connected
with the Hussites. Prophecies continued to be circulated and to affect the
minds of men. Strange preachers appeared, with apocalyptic oracles and
predictions of Antichrist, whom some of them declared to be already born; and
not uncommonly such preachers, after a short career of success, ended their
lives at the stake. Some taught that all things were common, that the married
state was unlawful and inconsistent with salvation, or other such fantastical
and mischievous notions. And sometimes a great excitement was produced by the
appearance of a brilliant and mysterious adventurer, whose variety of learning
and accomplishments seemed inconsistent with his years, and suggested the
suspicion that he might be no other than the very Antichrist himself.
In England, during the earlier part
of the fifteenth century, charges of lollardism frequently occur, and the
persons accused of this offence are usually treated without mercy. This
severity may have arisen in part from the fact that the dangerous political
elements of lollardism became more and more conspicuous; that members of the
party advocated community of goods, that they were busy in agitating against
taxation, and vented doctrines hostile to all civil government.
A general decay of discipline at
this time pervaded the English church. The bishops were commonly unpopular,
and there was much outcry against them for their neglect of the duties of
preaching and residence. Against such complaints their cause was strenuously
maintained by Reginald Pecock, bishop of St. Asaph, in a sermon at St. Paul’s
Cross, and after wards in a long and elaborate treatise, entitled ‘The Repressor
of over-much Wyting [i.e. Blaming] of
the Clergy’.
Pecock was probably a native of the
diocese of St. David’s, and is supposed to have been born about the end of the
fourteenth century. He studied at Oxford, where he became a fellow of Oriel
College, and in 1444 he was promoted to the bishopric of St. Asaph. The merit
of his honesty of intention was somewhat marred by vanity and self-confidence,
and by a tendency to a style of argument rather subtle than solid; and these
defects appeared in his sermon at St. Paul’s Cross and in the ‘Repressor’. He
maintained that bishops, as such, are not bound to preach, and that for
reasonable causes they may be non-resident. He asserted that the pope, as
successor of St. Peter, was head of the church. He held that the pope was the
universal pastor, and was entitled to the whole revenues of the church, so that
the sums paid by bishops, by way of first-fruits and the like, were merely a
partial restoration of that which was his own—like the payments made by a
steward to his lord. He not only maintained the episcopal order and vindicated
the right of church-property against the attacks of the Wyclifites, but
defended images and relics (in behalf of which he alleged stories of miracles
performed by them), pilgrimages, the monastic system, the splendour of conventual
buildings, the adoration of the cross, and many questionable ceremonies of the
church. The excitement produced by his sermon was very great; instead of
quelling the popular odium of bishops, it further exasperated it. And in
addition to this, he was charged by adversaries of a different kind with
setting reason above Holy Scripture, with treating in the vernacular language
subjects too deep for the understanding of the multitude, and with disrespect
to fathers, councils, and the authority of the church.
Notwithstanding these circumstances,
Pecock was translated in 1450 to the see of Chichester, which had become vacant
through the murder of the late bishop. For this promotion he was indebted to
the duke of Suffolk and to queen Margaret’s confessor, the bishop of Norwich;
but, when Suffolk had been overthrown, Pecock was left without powerful
protectors. When he appeared at the king’s council, in October 1457, with many
spiritual and temporal lords, there was an outburst of indignation against him,
as having vented novel doctrines and even as having incited the people to
insurrection; and he was compelled to leave the assembly. His books—of which
he declared that he would be answerable for such only as he had set forth
within the last three years—were, by order of the archbishop, Bourchier,
committed for examination to twenty-four doctors. Their report was that his
writings contained many errors and heresies, and, after several examinations,
the archbishop desired him to choose between retractation and delivery to the
secular arm, “as the food of fire, and fuel for the burning”. Utterly unmanned
by terror, Pecock submitted to make an abjuration, which he publicly performed
at St. Paul’s Cross—the same place in which his obnoxious sermon had been
preached—on the second Sunday in Advent, in the presence of the primate, three
bishops, and 20,000 people; with his own hands he delivered his censured books
to be thrown into the flames; and it was believed that, if the multitude could
have reached him, he would have shared the fate of his writings. “He retracted
errors which he had never uttered, and he retracted utterances which he knew
to be truths”. By a representation of his case to the pope he obtained three
bulls, ordering the archbishop to restore him; but Bourchier refused to receive
the bulls, as being contrary to the statute of provisors. Whether Pecock
resigned his see, or was deprived of it, is uncertain; his last days were spent
in rigorous seclusion at Thorney Abbey, and the time of his death is unknown.
Although Pecock was so far from
agreeing with the Lollards that his main object was to confute them, and that
his ingenuity was exercised in defending points of the existing system which
were the objects of their attacks, he was popularly confounded with them, so
that the contemporary statutes of King’s College, Cambridge, require the
members to swear that they will not favour the opinions of Wyclif or of Pecock.
The books of the two became together the objects of a search and of a burning
at Oxford in 1476, and many writers, both on the Roman and on the Protestant
side, have repeated the mistake of supposing their doctrines to have been
nearly akin. In some respects Pecock may be regarded as standing midway between
the doctrines of Rome and those of the English reformation. He was an advocate
of toleration in an age when intolerance was regarded as a duty to the truths
In the endeavour to distinguish between the provinces of reason and of
Scripture—in maintaining that the warrant of Scripture need not be sought where
reason is sufficient—he has been characterized as a forerunner of Hooker.
Although ignorant of Greek, and although he was deceived by forgeries such as
the pseudo-Dionysian books, he has the merit of having exposed the donation of
Constantine by a clear historical argument, independent of his contemporary
Valla’s more famous treatise. That he was led into error by an excess of
confidence in his judgment, is not to be denied; but of some of the opinions
imputed to him he was wholly or partly guiltless. As to the fallibility of the
church, he said nothing beyond what had before been said by Marsilius of Padua,
by Nicolas of Clemanges, and others of the Paris academics; indeed it would
seem that the opinions for which he was accused under this head were merely put
forward by way of suppositions on which he was willing to argue. The charge
that he denied the Holy Ghost was false; and his omission of the Descent into
Hell from the creed was probably not a denial of the article as it is now
generally understood, but of the gross construction which was put on it by the
popular mind in the middle ages.
BOHEMIA
The religious ferment in Bohemia
gave rise to some extreme manifestations in addition to those already
mentioned. John of Trittenheim tells us of a party who were styled fossarii, from their custom of meeting
by night in ditches and caves. He describes them as practising promiscuous
intercourse of the sexes, as despising the church and its ministers, as mocking
at the sacraments, and “full of errors without end”. Their numbers had
increased rapidly, so that in the year 1501 they were more than 19,000, and
among those who had joined them were many men of rank and influence. But
perhaps we may question the accuracy of a statement which in its worst features
so closely resembles the charges imputed to many denominations of heretics in
one generation after another.
On the death of George Podiebrad,
the Bohemian estates chose for their king a Polish prince, Ladislaus, who, as
the see of Prague was still vacant, was crowned by two Polish bishops. Although
the pope, Sixtus IV, refused to acknowledge any other king of Bohemia than
Matthias Corvinus, of Hungary, Ladislaus, by the aid of his father, king Casimir,
was able to make good his claims; and eventually he succeeded Matthias in the
kingdom of Hungary also. In 1478 the Roman party endeavoured to compel the
utraquists to relinquish their peculiar usages; but in the following year a
peace was concluded, by which the utraquists obtained a confirmation of the compactata, and an acknowledgment that
it was not heretical to receive the holy Eucharist under both kinds. Further
troubles ensued; the utraquists, not content with their late gains, spoke of
requiring the king to attend their churches, and to receive in both kinds; and
in other respects their violence was such that Ladislaus found it necessary to
banish some of their leaders, and even to put some of them to death In 1485 a
fresh treaty was concluded, by which each of the great parties was to enjoy
perfect freedom of religion. It was provided that, on a vacancy in any parish,
a new incumbent should be chosen from the same party to which his predecessor
had belonged; and the king consented that the utraquists should on their side
elect an administrator for the archbishopric of Prague. The peace thus
established continued in force, although not without occasional disturbances,11
throughout the reign of Ladislaus, who died in 1516.
JOHN OF GOCH
About the middle of the fifteenth
century, some divines appeared in Germany who may be said, in their views of
nature and grace, of justification and kindred subjects, to have anticipated
the Saxon reformation. Of these the most noted were John of Goch, John of
Wesel, and John Wessel.
John Pupper, who was commonly named
after his birthplace, Goch, near Cleves, was born in the beginning of the
century, and is supposed to have been educated at the university of Paris; but
nothing is known with certainty as to the history of his early life. In 1451,
when he was about fifty years old, he founded a convent for canonesses at
Mechlin, and entered into holy orders. The remainder of his days was spent in
the office of prior of this institution, and he died in 1475. During his lifetime
he was never molested on account of his opinions, which seem to have been then
known only to a narrow circle of persons who agreed with him; nor can any
distinct influence of them be traced in the reformers of the following century.
The second of the teachers above
named, John Richrath or Ruchrath, of Wesel, was born at Oberwesel, on the
Rhine, at some time between the years 1400 and 1420. He studied, and afterwards
taught, at Erfurt; and the continuance of his influence in that university
appears from Luther’s speaking of himself as having prepared himself for the
degree of master of arts by the study of John of Wesel’s books. While at
Erfurt, John was roused to indignation by the preaching of indulgences in
connexion with the jubilee of 1450. He wrote not only against the grosser
abuses of the system, but against the principle on which it was founded; yet he
was allowed to proceed to the degree of doctor of divinity in 1456, and was
appointed preacher at Worms in 1461-2. In this office he gained great
popularity; but he excited enmity by attacking the faults of the clergy, and by
inconsiderate language—as when he declared that if St. Peter instituted
fasting, it was probably with a view to getting a better market for his fish;
so that his friend Wessel, while admiring his learning and ability, was compelled
to lament his extravagance and indiscretion.
In 1479 John was brought by the
bishop of Worms before a court at Mayence on a charge of heresy. He was accused
of intimacy with Jews and Hussites, and even of being secretly a Hussite
bishop; of denying the authority of the church as to the exposition of
Scripture; of denying the procession of the Holy Ghost from the Son; of
denying original sin; of denying the powers of the Christian ministry, and the
distinction of presbyters from bishops and popes; of opposing many rites of the
church, the celibacy of the clergy, the use of ecclesiastical vestments, the
practice of fasting, and the sacrament of extreme unction. Archbishop Diether,
who felt himself obliged to take the matter up lest he should again lose his
see, requested the assistance of doctors from Cologne and Heidelberg for the
inquiry. The accused was old, was weak from illness, and was hard pressed by
the members of the court. He declared that he had said nothing against the
authority of the church, and disavowed some other things which were imputed to
him ; but he expressed a wish to retract all errors, and, on the sixth day of
the examination, he submitted to make a general retractation. His writings were
burnt, and he was committed to the convent of Augustinian friars at Mayence,
where he soon after died. The reporter of the case expresses an opinion that,
except as to the procession of the Holy Spirit, John, if time had been allowed
him, might have defended himself with success; that as a secular and a
nominalist he suffered disadvantage from a tribunal of monastic and realistic
judges : and he mentions some divines of note as having been disgusted by the
unfairness of the process.
John Wessel, who was styled by his
admirers “The light of the world”, while his opponents styled him “The master
of contradictions”, was born at Groningen about 1429, and was educated for a
time under the Brethren of the Common Life at Zwolle, where it has been supposed
that he was known to Thomas of Kempten. From Zwolle he went to the university
of Cologne, where he studied theology, the oriental languages, and ancient
philosophy. He complained that the ordinary course of reading was confined to
the works of Thomas of Aquino and Albert the Great; and he preferred Plato to
Aristotle. For sixteen years he taught at Paris, where, from having been a
realist, he became a nominalist; and he afterwards visited Italy, where he
renewed an acquaintance formed in France with pope Sixtus IV. It is said that,
on being desired by Sixtus to choose a gift, he made choice of a Bible in the
original tongues, from the Vatican Library; and when the pope laughingly asked
why he had not rather desired a bishopric, he answered that he did not need
such things. In 1477, Wessel was invited by Philip, elector-palatine, to
Heidelberg; but the theological faculty of the university refused to admit him
as a member, because he had not taken the degree of doctor, and declined to
qualify himself for it by receiving the tonsure. He therefore taught as a
philosophical lecturer, and was much engaged in disputes with the party whose
opinions he had abandoned. The prosecution of John of Wesel led him to expect
a like attack on himself; but this fear was needless, and his last years,
during which most of his extant works were written, were spent in quiet at his
native town, where he was sheltered from the malice of enemies by the favour of
the archbishop of Utrecht and the bishop of Munster. Wessel died in 1489.
Luther said of him, “If I had read his works earlier, my enemies might have
thought that I derived everything from him, so much does the spirit of the two
agree”. Yet as to the doctrine of the Eucharist, Wessel seems to have been a
forerunner rather of the Zwinglian than of the Lutheran reformation.
CHAPTER VIII.
SUPPLEMENTARY.
The Hierarchy.
(The councils of Constance and Basel, by asserting the supremacy of general
councils, and by endeavouring to reestablish the independence of the
episcopate, appeared to overthrow the power which the popes had gradually built
up ; and by the rules which they laid down for the regular meeting of general
councils at short intervals, it seemed as if the right of control which they
had asserted over the papacy were secured. But in the event, these apparent
victories proved nugatory. The popes were always ready to act, and able to take
advantage of all circumstances, while councils must in any case have been rare
and unwieldy. The pope chosen at Constance, Martin V, from the very time of his
election asserted the claims of his office in a manner which reduced much of
the council’s acts to a nullity. The council of Basel, by its imprudent
assumptions and its mismanagement, allowed its adversary Eugenius to triumph
over it. The decrees for periodical councils were never carried into execution;
the appeals which were frequently made to future general councils were
fruitless; for the popes always found some pretext for eluding not only the
decree of Constance, but the solemn promises which they .themselves had made on
this subject at their election. And against the councils of Constance and Basel
they were able to set those of Florence and the Lateran, by the last of which
the pragmatic sanction of Bourges, the only result of the council of Basel
which had remained until then, was abolished. The fathers of Basel, indeed, in
their attempts to reduce the papacy to its proper limits, felt themselves
hampered by the system in which they had been trained, and were unable to rid
themselves of its restraints, as a larger acquaintance with Christian antiquity
would have enabled them to do.
The critical spirit of Valla and
others had opened men’s eyes to the spuriousness of such documents as the
donation of Constantine and the false decretals. Yet these exposures seem to
have as yet had less effect than might have been expected, and to have been
little urged to their consequences as affecting the authority of the church in
whose interest the forgeries had been executed. At Basel the pope had been
spoken of as the “ministerial head of the church”—a term by which it was meant
that he was not entitled to give laws to the church, but that these ought to
proceed from councils. But in opposition to such doctrines, some writers in the
papal interest now vented extravagances even greater than those which we have
had occasion to notice in earlier ages. It was maintained that the pope was
infallible and absolute.1All power, temporal as well as spiritual, was ascribed
to him; it was said that he might not only depose emperors and kings, but might
extinguish empires and kingdoms, even without cause; that, as being the source
of all spiritual power, he was entitled to do, by his immediate authority,
whatever the local bishop might do in any diocese; that appeals ought to be
carried, not from a pope to a council, but from a general council, to the pope.
It was asserted that Constantine’s supposed donation was not a gift, but a
partial restitution, inasmuch as the pope is rightly lord of all and while in
France such opinions were condemned by parliaments, and universities, the
sovereigns of other countries sometimes found their account in admitting
them—as the Spaniards and Portuguese were glad to avail themselves of the papal
sanction for their conquests in the countries which they had discovered.
Popes now began to bestow
complimentary titles on kings as tokens of their favour. Thus, after the repeal
of the pragmatic sanction, Lewis XI of France was styled by Pius II (or, according
to some authorities, by Paul II) “Most Christian”. Alexander VI was disposed to
transfer this title to Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain, but at the request of
his cardinals he bestowed on them instead of it the epithet of “Most Catholic”.
Julius II conferred on James IV of Scotland the title of “Protector of the
Christian Faith ; and as is well known, Henry VIII of England was rewarded for
his book against Luther by being styled “Defender of the Faith”.
The secular power of the popes
entered during this time on a new stage of its development. This advance began,
as we have seen, with Sixtus IV, and it was carried further by his successors.
The dominion which Caesar Borgia had gained for himself by the acquisition of
the Romagna, and by the subjugation of the unruly barons, fell, on the collapse
of his power, to the Roman church; and Julius II further extended the temporal
sovereignty of the papacy. Thus, in addition to his spiritual pretensions, the
pope became a great Italian prince; and, as Italy was now the chief subject of
contention between the greatest sovereigns of the continent, his alliance in
that character was very important, and he acquired much political influenced
While the papacy was thus for a time
triumphing over all hindrances, the empire continued to sink. Sigismund,
indeed, had been enabled by circumstances to assert his office as advocate and
protector of the church at Constance and at Basel; but he was unable to
maintain throughout the elevation which he had thus attained. The long and
inglorious reign of Frederick III reduced the imperial dignity to the lowest
point; and Maximilian’s attempts to restore it were foiled by his want of
means for carrying them out, and by his own rash and inconstant character. The
emperors were without any adequate provision for the expenses of their
position. The crown lands, the tolls of the Rhine, and other sources of revenue
had been alienated by capitulations with the electoral princes, or by other
improvident grants. The taxes on Jews and on the cities of the empire had been
redeemed. For the means of supporting his dignity, and for the expenses of war,
the emperor was obliged to rely on the diet of the empire; and thus he found
himself in an unseemly condition of dependence. At the same time the other
chief sovereigns of Europe—the kings of France, England, and Spain—by the union
of territories, by the subjection of great feudatories and nobles, or
otherwise, had become much stronger than before; so that the emperor, although
bearing a far loftier title, although it was for him to bestow royal and ducal
dignities, was really inferior in power to them, and even to his vassal duke
Charles of Burgundy, or to the trading republic of Venice. Yet while his real
authority and importance were thus waning, the theory of his grandeur was
elaborated more than ever by jurists, whose invention was stimulated by the
doctrines of canonists as to the papacy. The empire, according to the jurists,
was “holy” and independent of the ecclesiastical power; the emperor was lord
paramount and “monarch” of all the world, so that from him all secular dominion
was supposed to be derived.
The popes continued to interfere
with ecclesiastical patronage of all sorts, and their interference was often
resented.. In England, by appointing resident legates a latere, and by inducing the archbishops of Canterbury to accept
the office, they acquired a new power over the church, as the government of it
appeared thenceforth to be exercised by delegation from the Roman see. In Scotland there were some
demonstrations of independence; but the popes at their own will erected the
sees of St. Andrew’s and Glasgow into archbishoprics, and granted such
exemptions from the archiepiscopal authority as they thought fit. James IV is
found expressing great thankfulness to Julius II for having appointed his illegitimate
son, Alexander Stuart, while yet a boy, to the primacy of Scotland, and
requesting that a bishopric may be bestowed on a Dominican who was employed in
the administration of the province during the archbishop’s minority. There were
continual endeavours on the part of sovereigns to prevent the occupation of
benefices in their dominions by alien and non-resident incumbents, whom the
pope took it upon himself to nominate. But the same argument from practical
results by which Frederick Barbarossa had endeavoured to show that the disposal
of bishoprics was better placed in the hands of sovereigns than of chapters,
was used by Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini in behalf of the papal patronage. And when
raised to the papacy he introduced the new abuse of charging preferments with
the payment of pensions to cardinals, or to officials of the Roman court.
As the crown became stronger in
various countries, the sovereigns showed a disposition to limit the power of
the church in various ways. Thus they forbade appeals to Rome, and the
introduction of Roman documents into their dominions, except with their
previous knowledge and licence. Old grievances are found continually
recurring; as when the popes and the English clergy complain of the statutes of
praemunire, and the popes complain that their collectors are arrested and
imprisoned. The immunities claimed by the clergy, and the boundaries of secular
and spiritual jurisdiction, are also frequent subjects of contest. Thus we find
that spiritual courts are forbidden to meddle with the suits of laymen, that
the secular affairs of the clergy are brought before secular tribunals, and
that such courts exercise criminal jurisdiction over ecclesiastics. The parliament
of Paris took it on itself to commit bishops to prison. The control exercised
by the Venetian republic over its clergy has appeared in the course of our
story. Henry VII of England enacted that clerks convicted of crimes should be
burnt in the hand; and for this he was afterwards denounced by Perkin Warbeck
as an invader of the rights of holy church.
But where the popes were masters,
the clerical immunities were jealously preserved. Thus, on Ascension day 1487,
the gonfaloniere and another magistrate of Bologna did penance in St. Peter’s
at Rome, for having exceeded their jurisdiction by hanging a Franciscan and a
secular priest. The gonfaloniere was deprived of all office and dignity. He and
his companion were flogged by the penitentiaries of the church while the psalm
Miserere was chanted, and after this they were solemnly rebuked by the pope.
The deposed chief magistrate was required to build and endow a chapel at
Bologna, and on every . Sunday and holy-day to attend mass in it, kneeling from
the beginning to the end of the service with a burning taper in his hand, and
to pray for the souls of the ecclesiastics on whom he had presumed to execute
justice.
Complaints as to the defects of the
clergy are as loud and as frequent as before. We read of the greed and
corruption of the Roman court, of simony in all quarters, of neglect of
spiritual duties, of the ignorance and rudeness of the lower clergy, of their
seeking to eke out their income by farming, keeping shops or taverns, and other
unsuitable occupations; and the effects of enforced celibacy were scandalously
evident. As the church would not relax its rules on this point, notwithstanding
the opinion of some of its most enlightened members, the great mass of the
clergy lived in a state of concubinage. It was in vain that the councils of
Constance and of Basel forbade this, and that their decrees were echoed by
provincial councils. The example of the popes, in openly bringing forward their
illegitimate children, in heaping church-preferment or lands on them, and in
labouring to connect them by marriage with reigning families, could not but
produce an effect. The contagion of evil spread to the lower clergy, and from
the clergy to the laity, so that a general demoralization ensued. Yet after all
the overwhelming evidence which experience had afforded as to the mischievous
effects of compulsory celibacy, it is remarkable that, when the authorities of
the Roman church were driven by the success of the protestant movement to
attempt an internal reformation, this point of discipline was one as to which
no reform or modification was introduced.
Monasticism.
Of the orders which arose in the
fifteenth century, the most remarkable was that of Eremites of St. Francis, or
Minims, founded, as we have already seen, by St. Francis of Paola, and approved
by Sixtus IV in 1474. It was a branch of the Franciscan community, and was
distinguished by extraordinary strictness—as that the members were to observe
the severity of Lenten diet throughout the whole year. There were sisters and
tertiaries attached to the order—the last under a milder rule in respect of
food. From the founder’s native Italy, and from France, where his last years
were spent, this order spread into Spain, and it is said to have numbered
about 450 houses in the beginning of the eighteenth century.
The mendicant orders continued to
enjoy much popularity, and endeavoured, as before, to supplant the secular
clergy utterly in the respect and affection of the laity. They were thoroughly
devoted to the papacy, except, indeed, when it failed to favour them; and this
it seldom ventured on with such resolute and valuable allies. Alexander VI is
reported to have said that it was safer to offend any powerful king than a
Franciscan or a Dominican. The mendicants did not scruple to use pretended
visions, miracles, and other such tricks for the furtherance of their purposes.
For a time the Franciscans were ordered to refrain from setting forth their
founder’s stigmata, and the Dominicans were forbidden to represent St.
Catharine of Siena with similar marks. But the flights of the Franciscans in
honour of their great saint became, if possible, more extravagant than before;
and, if more active than other orders, they directed most of their labours to
the advancement of popular superstitions and of papal assumptions, or to the
exclusive glorification of their own brotherhood. It was believed that Paul II
was about to publish letters, drawn up by Calixtus III, depriving the
mendicants of all their special privileges; but nothing came of this, and
Sixtus, by bulls of 1474 and 1479, granted the Dominicans and the Franciscans a
confirmation of all former favours.
The Carmelites even outdid the
Franciscans in their pretensions, asserting that the blessed Virgin every Saturday
released from purgatory all those who had died in the scapulary of the order
during the preceding week. For this they professed to have the authority of
bulls of John XXII and of Alexander V; and, although both these bulls were
forgeries, the persistent audacity of the Carmelites extorted confirmations of
the privilege from later popes.
The chief check to the pretensions
of the mendicants was opposed by the university of Paris, which condemned their
invasion of the rights of the secular clergy, compelled them to conform to its
terms, and would not allow any of them to teach until he had gone through a
course of study prescribed by its own authority. And when the friars procured
bulls in their favour from Eugenius IV and Nicolas V, they were required to swear
that they would make no use of these documents.
Complaints of a decay in monastic
discipline, and attempts at a reformation, are found throughout the period. The
council of Constance projected a large scheme of reform; but it remained
without effect. The council of Basel was more successful in this respect.
In northern Germany a reformation
was begun by the regular canons of Windesheim, and was so satisfactory that
these were employed, under a commission from the legate Nicolas of Cusa, to
carry out a similar work elsewhere. But in this they met with much
difficulty. Monks were not more seriously in need of reform than determined to
resist any attempt to reform them. In some places they had recourse to
violence. One monk threatened to stab the visitor, John Busch, with a knife;
another, to cut his throat with a pair of scissors; and it was sometimes
necessary to put down opposition by the help of the secular power. Some
communities appealed to Rome against the visitors, but met with no success. The
nuns (as to whose morals and discipline the report is usually very
unfavourable) were yet more intractable than the men. In one place, although
the visitors were supported by the authority of the duke of Brunswick, the nuns
repeatedly declared that they had sworn not to reform, and that they would not
become perjured. They threw themselves down on the pavement of the choir, with
their limbs stretched out in the form of a cross, and shrieked out the anthem,
“In the midst of life we are in death!”. They arranged the images of the saints
in order, and placed lights between them, as if by way of defence against the
supposed profanation. At another convent the sisters not only sang the same
ominous strain, but hurled their burning tapers at the commissioners and pelted
them with earth and stones. Even miracles were alleged in opposition to reform,
while on the other side there are stories of judgments which befell the
refractory.
The English Benedictines underwent a
reform under Henry V about the year 1421. A reform of those of Germany was
begun at the monastery of Bursfeld, and was carried out elsewhere in imitation
of the model which had been there established. But these reforms were only
partial; and sometimes, when monasteries which had accepted a reform found that
their order in general held out against it, they formed themselves into
separate congregations.
Reforms were sometimes forced on
reluctant communities by princes or bishops, and sometimes by distress
consequent on the extravagance of some gay young abbot, who had wasted the
revenues of his church, and thus indirectly became the means of bringing his
brethren to a better mind.
Among the greatest obstacles to
reform was the practice of dividing the monastic income—a practice utterly contrary
to the principle of monachism, but recommended by the independence and freedom
from discipline which it encouraged. At the council of Constance a Cistercian
failed in an endeavour to get this system acknowledged as lawful but it was too
firmly rooted to be easily extirpated.
Rites and Usages.
The increase of festivals and
ceremonies, of pilgrimages, relics, and fabulous legends, was not to be
checked by the protests of those who had succeeded to the opinions of Gerson
and his associates. The alleged miracles of bleeding hosts, in particular,
became more frequent, because they now served not only to prove the doctrine of
transubstantiation in its coarsest form, but to justify the withdrawal of the
eucharistic cup from the laity. In some cases, however, these miracles seem to
have been produced merely for the sake of gain; and hence cardinal Nicolas of
Cusa, when legate in Germany, forbade the display of such hosts, and ordered
that they should rather be consumed by the priests at mass. But this
superstition was not to be so readily put down. Occasion was not uncommonly
taken from stories of outrages done by Jews to the consecrated host to set on
foot a persecution against that people.
Indulgences became more frequent
than before, although the council of Constance had endeavoured to mitigate the
abuse of them. They were now offered for a great variety of objects : for the
crusade against the Turks, which the popes continually dangled before the eyes
of western Christendom, although without ever carrying it out; for any other
expeditions, whether against heathens or against Christians, to which the
popes, might give the character of a crusade; for the jubilee, for visiting
certain places, for performing certain devotions, for celebrating festivals,
and for the rebuilding of churches, especially for that of St. Peter’s at Rome,
which was undertaken by Julius II in 1506. The indignation which these
indulgences naturally provoked in the more discerning, was swelled by the
impudent pretensions of the preachers who set them forth; and this, on the
occasion of the indulgence for St. Peter’s, when renewed by Leo X became the
immediate occasion of Luther’s defiance of Rome.
That indulgences were applicable to
souls departed, had been maintained by some of the schoolmen,—as Alexander of
Hales, and Aquinas. The doctrine received a practical application from Sixtus
IV in 1477, and from Innocent VIII in i49o. But the most remarkable
exemplification of it was in the bull issued by Alexander VI for the jubilee of
1500, when the faithful were invited to pay money towards the repair of St.
Peter’s, in order that indulgences might be bestowed on the souls of their
friends in purgatory, by the way of suffrage. And this was imitated by Julius
II in his bull of 1510, for the rebuilding of the great church.
The reverence for the blessed
Virgin, which had already been excessive, was in this time carried yet further.
It was now that the fable of the “holy house” took form, and attracted
multitudes of pilgrims to Loreto. The festival of the “Compassion of the
Blessed Virgin”, in remembrance of her sufferings at the cross, was instituted
on account of the outrages of the Hussites. The festival of her Visitation was
sanctioned by the council of Basel, which also decreed in favour of the
immaculate conception. But this decree, as it was passed after the breach
between the council and the pope, was not regarded as authoritative. Sixtus
IV, after having in earlier life written in defence of the immaculate
conception, sent forth as pope two bulls in favour of the doctrine. Yet the
Franciscan pope was so far influenced by a regard for the power of the
Dominicans that he did not venture to proscribe their contrary doctrine, but
contented himself with forbidding the partisans of either opinion to denounce their
opponents as guilty of heresy or of mortal sin, forasmuch as the matter had not
yet been determined by the Roman church and by the apostolic see.
Some universities, however, took a
more decided line as to this matter. At Paris, a doctor named John le Ver (or
Véry), in consequence of having preached at Dieppe against the immaculate
conception, was required to retract; and it was resolved that in future no
theological student should be admitted, and no degree should be given, except
on condition of swearing to maintain the immaculate conception. This example of
Paris was followed by similar decrees of the universities of Cologne and
Mayence.
The Dominicans, while they opposed
the doctrine of the immaculate conception, were yet unwilling to lose the
credit of devotion to the blessed Virgin. They therefore instituted the
brotherhood of the Rosary, the members of which were bound to perform certain
devotions in her honour while telling their beads. But towards the end of the
period the Dominicans attempted to support their doctrine by the help of an
audacious imposture. The occasion grew out of a quarrel which took place at
Frankfort between a member of the order, named Wigand Wirth, and the chief
secular priest of the town; but the Dominicans resolved that Berne should be
the scene of their intended operations, as at Frankfort they had reason to
fear the opposition of the archbishop of Mayence, whereas they reckoned on
finding at Berne a people simple enough to be deceived and strong enough to
maintain any opinion which they might embrace. A young man of weak and
credulous character, who had lately forsaken the trade of a tailor to enter
into the order, was deluded by pretended visions, in which figures personating
the blessed Virgin and other saints appeared to him, and professed to entrust
him with revelations. Among other things, the representative of St. Mary
charged him to inform pope Julius that she had been conceived in sin; and by
way of a token, she impressed the stigma on one of his hands with a nail. At
length the dupe’s eyes were opened; and on his threatening to publish the
deceits which had been practised on him, the Dominicans attempted to poison
him. The bishop of Lausanne and the magistrates of Berne interfered in the
matter. A commission, composed of two bishops and the provincial of the Dominicans,
was sent by the pope to investigate it; and the prior and three other monks of
the convent at Berne, who had been most active in the imposture, were
convicted, degraded, made over to the secular arm, and burnt. The detection of
this abominable trick gave a triumph to the opposite party, and redounded to
the advantage of the doctrine against which the Dominicans had employed such
discreditable means.
Arts and
Learning.
Although the highest perfection of
pointed architecture had passed away before the time with which we are now
concerned, a development of the style continued to prevail in the countries
north of the Alps, and was displayed in many splendid and celebrated works,— among
them a great part of the church of St. Ouen, at Rouen, and the chapel of King’s
College at Cambridge. To this time are due many of the loftiest and most
majestic towers—such as the spires of Chartres and Antwerp, and, in the very
end of the period, the central tower of Canterbury. In our own country the
fifteenth century produced a multitude of buildings of all classes, from the
abbey or cathedral (although in these the work of this age was mostly limited
to alterations and additions) down to humble parochial churches and chapels.
Where architects were at liberty to indulge their fancy, they became more and
more disposed to overload their work with ornament, as in Henry VII’s chapel at
Westminster, and in the church of Brou in Bresse, erected by Margaret of
Austria in memory of her husband, Philibert of Savoy. A comparison of these
typical examples is said to show that the faults of the late Gothic style were
exaggerated far more in France than in England.
But south of the Alps an entire
change came over the prevailing taste in architecture. In the great cathedral
of Milan, indeed, an attempt was made to borrow Gothic art from Germany; but
the result, however wonderful in itself, is something greatly vitiated from the
purity of the pointed manner. The revolution which took place in literature had
its parallel in art. Brunelleschi, a Florentine, is regarded as the great
connecting link between the earlier and the later architecture. In company with
his countryman Donatello, who holds a similar place in the history of
sculpture, he lived among the ruins of Rome, both supporting themselves by
working as goldsmiths, while each, with a view to his own art, was deeply
studying the remains of classical antiquity. Brunelleschi applied mathematical
science to architecture in a degree unknown to his predecessors; and,
discarding the use of buttresses, which had been necessary and characteristic
features in the buildings of the middle ages, he completed the work of Arnulf
by raising into the air the vast cupola of the cathedral at Florence. In this
there is still much of the Gothic element; but from the date of it Italian
architecture bears the character of the “renaissance”—an eclectic style, in
which the details are taken from Greek and Roman models, while the general
design is not closely imitative, but, disregarding the bondage of ancient
rules, is accommodated to the actual purpose of the building.
At Rome, where the pointed
architecture had never taken root, the victory of the new manner was easy. All
the popes, from Martin V to Leo X, were more or less engaged in building and
restoration, while many cardinals and others followed their example by erecting
churches and palaces. Baccio Pontelli, of Florence, the architect employed by
Sixtus IV, was the chief agent in the transition between the medieval style of
Rome and the fully-developed modern architecture of which Bramante was the most
famous master. Although a rebuilding of the venerable basilica of St. Peter had
been projected, and even begun, by Nicolas V, the greatness of the enterprise
seems to have deterred his successors from prosecuting it; and the decaying
walls underwent a continual process of repair, until at length Julius II,
partly with a view to provide a fitting shrine for the monument which he had
commissioned Michael Angelo to prepare for him, began the erection of the new
St. Peter’s under the superintendence of Bramante.
While the architecture of the middle
ages had a perfection and completeness of its own, the art of painting was
still in a far less mature stage; but in this time it reached the greatest
excellence which it has ever attained. The study of the antique was introduced,
and was encouraged by the discovery of such masterpieces of ancient art as the
Apollo, the torso of the Belvedere, and the Laocoon. The study of the
anatomical structure of the body, and various technical discoveries,
contributed to the advancement of art; and the object proposed was to employ
these elements of improved culture on Christian themes.
The first impulse to a new manner
was given by Masaccio, of Florence, who was born in 1402 and died in i443.
Florence was, in art as in literature, the head-quarters of the movement of the
age; but schools of painting grew up in all parts of Italy. Rome itself did not
produce any great master in any branch of art, but sought to draw to itself the
most eminent talents from other quarters—from Lombardy, Tuscany, Umbria, or
wherever genius and skill might be found. Sixtus IV, having resolved to
decorate his chapel in the Vatican with paintings, employed the Tuscans
Signorelli, Botticelli, and Ghirlandaio, with the Umbrians Perugino and
Pinturicchio, and others; but their works in that place were afterwards
eclipsed by the grander creations of Michael Angelo Buonarroti. Fresh from the
religious lessons of Savonarola, the great Florentine appeared at Rome in 1496,
at the age of twenty-one, and four years later he executed the group of the
Virgin-mother with the dead Saviour, which now adorns one of the chapels in St.
Peter’s. Julius, struck with his ability, invited him to return to Rome about
1505, and entrusted him with the preparation of a monument for himself, which
was designed on a vast and magnificent plan, but, after having for many years
been the cause of infinite vexation to the artist, was so dwarfed and marred
in the execution (which is chiefly by other hands), that it may be said to have
resulted in little beyond the awful figure of Moses.
At the age of thirty-three Michael
Angelo began his labours on the roof of the Sixtine Chapel. It is said by
Vasari that he undertook the task unwillingly, as one alien from what he
regarded as his true profession of sculptor, and even that it was imposed on
him by the pope through the unfriendly influence of Bramante, who expected the
result to be a failure. The same writer tells us that, although Michael Angelo
had to overcome the difficulties of fresco-painting, which was new to him, and
dismissed all assistants on finding that they were unequal to his requirements,
this gigantic work was executed by him between the 10th of May 1508 and the 1st
of November in the following year. But the story is incredible, and the truth
appears to be that, although on All Saints’ day 1509 the artist allowed the
scaffolding to be removed so that his impatient patron might see the amount of
his progress, the labour which gave being to “the most majestic forms that
painting has yet embodied”, continued to occupy him during the following three
years.
In the meantime Raphael Sanzio, of
Urbino, eight years younger than Michael Angelo, was introduced by his kinsman
Bramante to the papal court, and at twenty-five began his series of pictures
in the chambers of the Vatican, where, while the doctrine of the church is
represented by the Miracle of Bolsena and the Dispute on the Sacrament, the
revived classicism of the age appears in the School of Athens and the
Parnassus. At the time of Julius’s death Raphael was engaged on his Heliodorus,
a work intended to symbolize the expulsion of the “barbarians” from the sacred
soil of Italy, and under Leo he continued to paint subjects which have a like
reference to the history of his new patron. Thus the Attila, which again
signified the repulse of the barbarian invaders, the Fire of the Borgo, the
Defeat of the Saracens at Ostia, the Coronation of Charlemagne, were all
commemorative of older popes who had borne the same name with their reigning
successor.
Admirable as were the advances of
this time in art, they were too commonly accompanied by a decay of that
religious feeling which had animated the older Christian painters, and which
the statutes of the artistic guilds in some places had enjoined their members
to cultivate. Of Angelico of Fiesole, who, although he lived in the days of the
classical revival, remained unaffected by it, it is said that he never took up
his brush without prayer; but in many of those who came after him the influence
of the paganizing opinions and of the corrupted society which surrounded them
is only too evident. The spiritual qualities which are expressed in their works
came in too many instances from the power of the artist’s mind and hand, rather
than from any kindred elements in himself.
In German and Flemish art the
influence of the classical revival was as yet hardly felt. Albert Durer,
although his works excited the admiration of Raphael, remained to the last
intensely German, and his Christianity has little in common with the new spirit
which had transformed the art of Italy.
The invention of printing coincided,
in a manner which cannot fail to suggest a variety of reflections and
speculations to every mind, with that revival of ancient literature to which
the new art lent itself as a powerful agent The first complete book produced by
the press is supposed to be the Bible published by Gutenberg and Schoffer at
Mayence, in 1455—a vast effort for an art which was as yet only in its birth.
From Mayence the great discovery was carried, chiefly by Germans, into other
countries, and within a few years it was widely diffused. The Jews took advantage
of it to produce a complete edition of the Old Testament at Soncino (a little
town of Lombardy), in 1488, some portions of their Scriptures having already
appeared in a detached form; but it was not until nearly thirty years later
that the New Testament was published in the original language. Cardinal
Ximenes, whose zeal for the promotion of religion and learning contrasts
brightly with the intolerance which led him to persecute the Jews and the Moors
of Spain, conceived the idea of publishing, as an antidote to heresy, a Bible
which should contain the original Scriptures with the chief ancient versions.
With a view to this he collected manuscripts, including some which were
supplied from the papal library; he employed a band of scholars in editing the
book, and imported type-cutters and founders from Germany; and, after fifteen
years of labour, he had, shortly before his death, the satisfaction of
witnessing the completion of the great work, on which he had expended enormous
sums, and which he had watched in its progress with unremitting interest and
care. The printing was executed at Alcalá de Henares, where the cardinal’s
munificence had founded an university; and from the Latin name of the city,
Complutum, the book is known as the Complutensian Polyglott. Its six volumes,
dedicated to pope Leo contain the Old Testament in Hebrew, with the Chaldee
paraphrase of the Pentateuch; the Septuagint version of the Old Testament, the
New Testament in Greek, and the Latin Vulgate translation of the whole, with
literal Latin versions of the Septuagint and of the Chaldee, a Hebrew
dictionary, and other supplementary matter.
The Complutensian New Testament was
finished in 1514; but as the publication of the Polyglott was delayed by the
death of Ximenes, in November 1517, and the copies were not sent forth until
1522, the Greek New Testament of Erasmus, published at Basel in 1516, was the
first edition in which the original text of the Christian Scriptures was given
to the world.
The press was largely employed in producing
vernacular translations of the Scriptures. It is remarkable that in England
the labours of Wyclif, instead of promoting such works, deterred men from
undertaking them on account of the obloquy which was attached to his name, so
that no printed English Bible existed until the time of the Reformation. But in
Germany there were many complete editions in various dialects before the end of
the fifteenth century, besides separate publications of particular books.
There was also a complete Italian translation; and portions of the Scriptures
had been printed in French, Bohemian, and other languages. All these were
rendered from the Latin Vulgate.
It is supposed that such
translations found their circulation in great part among persons of a mystical
tendency or of suspected orthodoxy. The ecclesiastical authorities, in alarm
at the operations of the press, endeavoured to control them by establishing a
censorship. The first attempt of this sort was made in i486, by Berthold of
Henneberg, archbishop of Mayence, who forbade the printing and sale of books
without a licence, and complained of the translation of works on “Divine
offices and the high points of our religion” in German,—a language which he
considered inadequate to express the higher religious matters, and likely to
expose them to disgrace. In 1501, Alexander VI sent forth a bull with special
reference to the provinces of Cologne, Mayence, Treves, and Magdeburg,
denouncing the printing of books “containing various errors and pernicious
doctrines, even hostile to the Catholic faith”, and ordering that for the
future nothing should be printed except with archiepiscopal licence, and that
the obnoxious books already in existence should be destroyed. In 1502, a
censorship was established in Spain, at first under royal authority, from
which it was afterwards transferred to the inquisition; and the Lateran
council, at its tenth session, approved a bull by which a censorship was
instituted for the prevention of publications dangerous to faith or morals.
In addition to Alcalá, several
universities were founded during this time,—among them, Wittenberg, in Saxony,
which was soon to become famous in connexion with the Reformation; Buda,
Copenhagen, St. Andrew’s, Glasgow, and Aberdeen. By thus bringing home the opportunities
of academical education to various countries, the great mass of students were
spared the cost, the labour, and perhaps something of the moral temptations
connected with a resort to Paris, Bologna, or Oxford; but on the other hand
there was a disadvantage in the decrease of intercommunication between the
nations of Europe.
The university of Rome, after having
been dormant during the great schism, was refounded in 1431 by Eugenius IV.
Alexander VI erected new buildings for it, and was a benefactor to it in other
ways; and it was more fully organized under the patronage and by the bounty of
Leo X.
In England, this period was marked
by many foundations for the purpose of education. Among them were the royal
school of Eton, the colleges founded at Cambridge by Henry VI and his queen,
by the mother of Henry VII, and by Alcock, bishop of Ely, with those of
archbishop Chichele, and bishops Fleming, Waynefleet, Smith, and Fox at Oxford.
Yet learning, at least during the earlier part of the time, made little
progress. Poggio, who visited this country about 1420, finds fault with the
barbarous and obsolete nature of our university studies. There are great
complaints as to the decay of Oxford, which was such that at one time Paris
suspended correspondence with the English university. This decay was in part
traced to the uncertainty of ecclesiastical promotion, in consequence of which
the universities are found petitioning archbishop Chichele and others, that in
the disposal of patronage a regard may be had to the claims of graduates in
such matters. Erasmus, in 1513, speaks of a great revival and extension of
studies as having taken place at Cambridge within the last thirty years, so
that the university might then “compete with the first schools of the age” ;
and there can be no doubt that Oxford had shared in the improvement.
At Paris the university was for a
time distracted by a continuation of the old feuds between mendicants and
seculars, between nominalists and realists; but these were now superseded by a
change which furnished new subjects and causes of dispute.
From Italy, where the revival of
Greek learning began, it spread into the countries north of the Alps. The first
German who distinguished himself in the new study was Rudolf Haussmann (or Agricola),
who, under the patronage of a bishop of Worms, lectured there and at
Heidelberg. In France the cultivation of Greek was encouraged by Lewis XI, who
was favourable to all progress which did not conflict with his despotism; and
in the beginning of the sixteenth century, Budé taught with great fame at
Paris. In England, where the Greek language was introduced by Sellyng, prior of
Christchurch, Canterbury, after a visit to Italy in 1480, there soon grew up a
band of zealous scholars, among whom Grocyn, Linacre, William Latimer, Colet,
and Thomas More were conspicuous.
In Italy, the merits of Aristotle
and Plato were discussed by their respective partisans, both Greek refugees
and Italians, with the same eagerness which had marked the contests between the
nominalists and the realists. Platonism—or rather the later Alexandrian
philosophy which was mistaken for it—was taught at Florence by Marsiglio
Ficino, who, although a canon of the cathedral and an admired preacher, is said
to have been so devoted to the Greek sage that the only image admitted into his
study was one of Plato, before which a lamp was continually burning. This
eclectic system associated Orpheus with Moses, Plato with the Saviour,
classicism with Christian faith, while it contained much admixture of
superstition and mysticism; and by such doctrines it was that Ficino proposed
to overcome the repugnance which the men of letters of his day too commonly
felt for Christianity—that as they had been led away by philosophy from the
Christian faith, they might by a truer philosophy be brought back to it. The
Florentine Academy founded by Cosmo de’ Medici, and patronized by Lorenzo,
celebrated the festival of Plato’s birth and death on the 29th of November; and
we have already met with the similar association at Rome, over which Pomponio
Leti presided, and which perhaps deserved the suspicions of pope Paul II in a
greater degree than Platina would allow. Leti and others of the Italians,
provoked by the exclusiveness of the votaries of Greek literature, and
regarding themselves as representatives of the ancient conquerors of the world,
betook themselves in opposition to asserting the claims of Latin; and some of
them, discarding the free and expressive, although inelegant, Latinity of the
middle ages, made it their study to imitate the purity and graces of Cicero.
The absurdities which resulted from this pedantic affectation were exposed at
a somewhat later date by the keen satire of Erasmus, who defined the true
Ciceronianism to be that the modems should speak as Cicero would have spoken in
their circumstances. Erasmus does not spare the pagan tendencies which found a
shelter under the profession of Ciceronianism, and which in many places showed
themselves in a strange mixture of heathen with Christian ideas. The classical
revival had, indeed, produced much unbelief, and many of the worst corruptions
of heathen morality. Even in the papal court, a light and sceptical tone
prevailed; nay, as we have seen, even some popes were not above the suspicion
of disbelieving the very elements of Christian faith.
In Germany the “humanist” movement
took a different course; for, as the cultivation of the new learning had begun
in such institutions as the schools of the Brethren of the Common Life, it was
brought into the service of religion, and issued, not in a contempt for the
Christian faith, but in a desire of reform. In Germany, however, as elsewhere,
the old academics, far from originating or welcoming the classical movement,
looked down with the contempt of superior knowledge on those whom they styled
grammarians or poets, while these in turn regarded the doctors of the earlier
school as antiquated and barbarous.
The most eminent humanists of
Germany were Reuchlin and Erasmus. Reuchlin, who was born in 1465, at Pforzheim,
studied at the new university of Freiburg, and through the patronage of
Eberhard, count of Wurtemberg, was enabled to continue his studies at Paris,
and to travel in Italy, where, according to the fashion of the age, he grecised
his name into Capnio. He became an advocate, was much employed by count
Eberhard in political missions, and enjoyed the favour of the emperor
Frederick; and after Eberhard’s death, in 1496, he settled at Heidelberg, where
he found a new patron in Philip Count Palatine. By Reuchlin the study of
classical literature was greatly promoted in Germany; but he is more
especially noted as the first of his countrymen who cultivated Hebrew
learning. Unfortunately he took up from his Jewish teachers much of the
mysticism which was prevalent among them; he dabbled in astrology, and
endeavoured to reconcile Judaism and Christianity by means of the Cabbala.
Reuchlin, although he had been appointed advocate of the Dominican order, had
already offended the monastic party by a satirical comedy, when he was involved
in a quarrel with John Pfefferkorn, a Jew of Cologne, who, at the age of fifty,
had professed Christianity. Pfefferkorn had published sundry writings for the
purpose of converting his brethren, without success; when, finding argument
useless, he petitioned the emperor Maximilian that all Jewish books except the
Bible might be destroyed, in order to deprive the Jews of support for their
unbelief.
By this petition he obtained an
imperial order, authorizing the destruction of Jewish books which attacked the
Christian religion; but Pfefferkorn proceeded to confiscate all Hebrew
writings without distinction, and the archbishop of Mayence, Uriel of
Gemmingen, suggested to the emperor that Reuchlin and other competent authorities
should be consulted on the subject. With the emperor’s sanction, Reuchlin was
requested to state his opinion; and he replied by an argumentative treatise.
He distinguished the books of the
Jews into seven classes; among the lighter sort, he said, might be a few in
mockery of the Christian religion, but these were condemned by the Jewish
doctors themselves as false and calumnious. The rest ought not to be destroyed,
but might be studied by Christians, as Moses, Solomon, and Daniel had studied
the wisdom of the heathen. He insisted on the utility of Hebrew for Christian
theologians, and recommended that during the next ten years it should be taught
in universities, as a means of furnishing them with better weapons against the
Jews than those which Pfefferkorn wished to employ.
Pfefferkorn furiously assailed
Reuchlin in a book to which he gave the name of ‘Handspiegel’ (‘Hand-glass’); to which Reuchlin
rejoined with vehemence in one entitled ‘Augenspiegel’ (‘Eyeglass’),
professing to convict his adversary of thirty-four untruths. The matter was
taken up by the Dominicans of Cologne, who frightened Reuchlin into an apology;
but when they went on to require that he should retract, he refused, and stood
on his defence. The inquisitor of the province of Cologne, James Hoogstraten,
or Hochstraten (who had already written against Reuchlin), went to Mayence, and
there, although beyond his jurisdiction, set up a court, by which Reuchlin,
notwithstanding his protestations on the ground of irregularity, was condemned
for the publication of the ‘Eye-glass.’ But the proceedings were stayed by the
archbishop of Mayence, and Reuchlin appealed to the pope. The matter was
referred by Leo to the bishop of Spires, who appointed a commission of doctors
to investigate it; and these condemned Hoogstraten to pay Reuchlin damages for
the irregularity and injustice of his proceedings towards him. Meanwhile, the
Dominicans at Cologne had publicly burnt the ‘Eye-glass’ and had obtained
opinions in their favour from. Paris and other universities. Again the case was
carried before Leo, and Reuchlin’s cause was supported by the recommendations
of a multitude of princes and prelates. Leo, at once unwilling to condemn the
humanists and to provoke Dominicans, committed the investigation to cardinal
Grimani and, although the Dominicans were greatly annoyed, Reuchlin was but
imperfectly satisfied by the issue of a mandate which, instead of pronouncing
for either party, superseded the suit.
In 1519, however, the quarrel was
decided after the manner of the age and country. Francis von Sickingen, a
gallant but somewhat lawless noble, threatened that unless the judgment of
Spires were carried out within a month, he would lay waste the territory of
Cologne. In consequence of this threat, Hoogstraten and his party paid the
damages, and although they made underhand attempts to excite the Roman court
against Reuchlin, and even procured a fresh condemnation of his book, it
appears that he suffered no actual molestation until his death in June, 1522.
In this controversy Reuchlin was
supported by the friends of intellectual progress throughout Europe, who,
indeed, learnt from it to acknowledge a common interest, so that some of them
even spoke of themselves as Reuchlinists. There were writings on both sides, both
serious and satirical; and of these by far the most effective was the
collection of letters entitled ‘Epistolse Obscurorum Virorum’, of which the
first part appeared in 1515 and the second in 1517. The chief authors of these
letters are supposed to have been John Jager, a professor of Erfurt, who styled
himself Crotus Rubianus, and Ulric von Hutten, a young literary adventurer of
noble family and brilliant talents, of loose morality and strong reforming
zeal.
The title of this famous satire was
suggested by the ‘Letters of Illustrious Men’ to Reuchlin, which some of his
friends had published in 1514, with the intention of supporting him in his
contest with the Dominicans. To these is opposed a set of ‘Letters of Obscure
Men’, addressed to Ortuinus Gratius (Ortwin von Graes), of Cologne, who was
supposed to have helped Pfefferkorn in his Latin, and was obnoxious to the
Reuchlinists from having taken the side opposite to that on which, as a pupil
of the school of Deventer and as a professor of “humane” literature, he might
have been expected to range himself. The ‘Obscure Men’ display, with an air of
entire unconsciousness, the characteristics of the vulgar monkish party—their
stupidity, narrowness, and ignorance, their hatred of improvement and
enlightenment, their intolerance, their obtuse self-satisfaction, their absurd
pedantry, their coarse and shameless sensuality. They dispute in scholastic
form about nonsensical questions; they look down with the contempt of
professed theologians on Reuchlin, as a lawyer who had irregularly intruded
into their province; they would prohibit Greek and the “new Latinity”; and
their barbarous Latin has an air of verisimilitude which is irresistibly
comical. The audacity of the book is astounding; the writers are not restrained
by any considerations of decency or reverence, and the liberties taken with
Ortwin, with Pfefferkorn and his wife, with Hoogstraten and others, must appear
to a modern reader outrageous. Among the letters of imaginary persons, whose
vulgar German names are rendered more ridiculous by Latin terminations, are
some which are impudently ascribed to Ortwin, to Arnold of Tongres, who had
been concerned in the affair of Reuchlin, and to the formidable Hoogstraten
himself, whose adventures in pursuing the suit against Reuchlin at Rome are
represented as having ended in the exhaustion of his purse, so that he had to
plod his way homewards on foot, exposed to all the inclemency of the seasons.
The effect of these letters was
immense, and was not to be counteracted by any publications on the other side.
It is indeed said with apparent seriousness (although we may find it difficult
to believe the statement) that the imitation of the monkish style was so
successful as to deceive some of the satirized party, who lauded and circulated
the book as a precious contribution to the cause of orthodoxy. But those
against whom it was more immediately directed applied at Rome for a
condemnation of it; and in March 1517 Leo issued a prohibition, which,
however, had no other result than to increase the celebrity and the effect of
the work.
The fame of Erasmus was more popular
and more widely extended than that of Reuchlin. He was born at Rotterdam in
1465, the offspring of a connexion which had become unlawful because the
paternal grandfather had determined that one of his many sons should become a
monk, and on this account refused to allow his son Gerard to marry the object
of his affections. Gerard, who had gone to Italy, was persuaded to enter into
the priesthood by information sent by his parents that the mother of his son
was dead; and when the irrevocable step had been taken, he discovered that the
story was false. Erasmus received the greater part of his early education
under the Brethren of the Common Life at Deventer. At the age of thirteen he
lost both his parents, and was left to the care of guardians, who made away
with his property and endeavoured to cover their dishonesty by persuading him
to enter a cloister. The influence of his teachers at Deventer was used for the
same purpose; but he withstood all solicitations until at length he was
overcome by the importunity of a pretended friend, who represented in delusive
colours the advantages of the monastic life, and whose treachery and
worthlessness he afterwards discovered. At the age of seventeen or eighteen he
became a novice; after a year of probation he made his profession among the
Augustinian canons of Stein, and in 1492 he was ordained a priest. The
circumstances of his history were not likely to impress him with a favourable
opinion of the monastic system, and his experiences of the conventual life were
repulsive. We cannot wonder that his tainted birth, his solitary position, the
frauds of which he had been the victim, the hardships and uncertainty of a
scholar’s profession, the pretensions of patrons and the slackness of their
performance, with his nervous temperament and the delicate health which was
partly the effect of the monastic diet, tended to produce in him a spirit of
distrust and caution, which even resulted in something of selfishness.
After having been drawn from his
monastery by the bishop of Cambray, he pursued his studies at Paris; and there
he met with a pupil, Lord Mountjoy, by whom he was invited to England. His
first visit to this country, in 1498, was followed by others in 1505, 1511-14,
and 1515, during which, (although he disdained to learn the language, and on
that account resigned a benefice bestowed on him by archbishop Warham), he
became acquainted with many eminent men—among them Warham, Wolsey, Fisher
bishop of Rochester, Tonstal, afterwards bishop of London and of Durham,
Linacre, and the young king Henry VIII, of whose early promise he speaks in
extravagant terms. But his chosen associates were John Colet, dean of St.
Paul’s and founder of St. Paul’s School, by whom his opinions were not a little
affected, and Thomas More. With these two he lived on terms of familiar
intimacy and in a close sympathy of thought. He resided at both the
universities, and during his third and longest visit was professor of Greek at
Cambridge.
In 1508 he was able to fulfil a
long-cherished desire to see Italy, where he was received by scholars and by
high ecclesiastical personages with flattering respect. His ‘Adagia’, first
published in 1500, and afterwards much enlarged, had laid the foundation of a
great reputation for ability and learning. His ‘Praise of Folly’, meditated
during his return from Italy to England, and completed in the house of Sir
Thomas More, acquired a vast popularity,—twenty-seven editions, at least,
having been published during his lifetime. In this, after a long exordium, in
which pedantry is perhaps more conspicuous than wit, he keenly attacks the prevailing
follies of all classes, but especially the faults of the clergy and the
superstitions which they fostered. His ‘Colloquies’, of later date (1527), were
so eagerly received that in one year 24,000 copies were sold; and in these he
again assailed with especial force the mistaken devotions which the monks
inculcated, with the intrusiveness and rapacity of the mendicants in connexion
with death-beds, wills, and funerals.
In addition to his original
writings, Erasmus, who about the year 1515 established himself at Basel, where
his works were printed by Froben, was diligently employed on labours of other
kinds—editions of classical works, of St. Jerome, and other fathers; and in
1516 he produced his Greek New Testament, with a corrected Latin version—the
earliest edition, as we have seen, in which the original of the Christian Scriptures
was offered to the world.
His old associates at Stein had
chosen one of his friends as abbot, and were induced by the renown which
Erasmus had acquired to attempt to regain him for their society; but he had
been released by the pope from his monastic’ obligations, and expressed in his
answer an inflexible resolution to be no more ensnared in a way of life which
his reason, his feelings, and his experience condemned.
A career so brilliant, and at the
same time so contrary to the common ecclesiastical manner of thinking, could
not be without opposition. His New Testament was attacked: why should the
language of the schismatic Greeks interfere with the sacred and traditional
Latin? How could any improvement be made on the Vulgate translation? There was a
college at Cambridge, especially proud of its theological character, which
would not admit a copy within its gates; and from many other quarters there was
an outcry against the dangerous novelty. But the editor was able to shelter
himself under the name of pope Leo, who had accepted the dedication of the
volume.
At the time which we have reached,
Erasmus was acknowledged as the chief among scholars and men of letters. He had
been patronized, invited, pensioned, tempted with offers of promotion, by all
the chief princes of Europe, and by prelates innumerable. And thus far he was
regarded by the opponents of innovation as a dangerous reformer. A different
state of things was to follow, when, finding himself unable to advance with the
movement of popular opinion—unable, from his critical and somewhat indecisive
temper, to take part thoroughly either with the reformers or with their
adversaries, because he saw, as he believed, the errors of both
parties—reproached by those who had left him behind, and distrusted by those
wh6m he had once opposed, but to whose interest he had fallen back,—he spent
his last years in disquiet and in the turmoil of bitter controversy, a mark for
obloquy from both sides, and at last left as his epitaph the melancholy words,
“The Lutheran tragedy loaded him with intolerable ill-will; he was torn in
pieces by both parties, while he endeavoured to consult the good of both.”
Powerful as scholarship had been in
preparing the way for a reformation, the great change which was actually at hand—a
change which not only rent from the papacy a large portion of its dominion, but
compelled it to undertake new and vigorous measures of internal reform—was not
to be accomplished by the efforts of scholars or men of elegant learning, but
by ruder and perhaps more earnest labourers.
THE END