HISTORY OF THE POPES FROM THE CLOSE OF THE MIDDLE AGES

BOOK 11

PIUS III. A.D.1503

&

JULIUS II. 1503-1513.

Restorer of the States of the Church and Patron of the Fine Arts.

CHAPTER I

The Conclaves of September and November, 1503.— Pius III. and Julius II.

In a Despatch of 15th August, 1503, when the condition of Alexander VI was rapidly becoming hopeless, the Venetian Ambassador, Antonio Giustinian, reports that Cardinal Caraffa had said to him in conversation, “There is every prospect of war. I greatly fear that the coming Conclave will result in an appeal to arms, and prove most disastrous for the Church”. A sonnet, published in Florence about that time, describes the divisions in the Sacred College, the machinations of the Kings of France and Spain to secure the election of their respective candidates, and the probability of a simoniacal election, and even of a schism.

The situation was, indeed, fraught with peril on all sides. In the North the French army under Francesco Gonzaga lay at Viterbo, the Spaniards under Gonsalvo de Cordova were advancing from the South, Rome resounded with party cries, Orsini, Colonna, and Borgia. Cardinal Aegidius of Viterbo says “the whole city was in a ferment; the confusion was such, that it seemed as if everything was going to pieces.” Under such circumstances it was obvious that Caesar’s presence in Rome could not be a matter of trifling importance. The Spanish Cardinals were as absolutely subservient to him “as if they had been his chaplains,” and he had under his command an army of not less than 12,000 strong. It was certainly quite in his power to force another Rodrigo Borgia on the Church.

One cannot but regard it as a direct interposition of Providence that precisely at this critical time he was crippled by a serious illness, from which he was only beginning to recover. He said himself afterwards to Machiavelli, “I had counted on the death of my father, and had made every preparation for it, but it never occurred to me that I should have at the same time to fight with death myself.”

But the fact that both France and Spain, who had quarrelled with each other over the Neapolitan spoils, were trying to secure his friendship, shews what was the strength of Caesar’s influence in spite of his bodily weakness. They evidently thought that the result of the coming election depended largely upon him. It was only natural that the Duke should exert himself to the utmost to control it. The unexpected death of Alexander VI had been the signal for a general uprising of all the enemies of the Borgia family, and his very existence depended upon the outcome of the election. The Venetian Ambassador writes on 21st August: “I am assured on the best authority that last Sunday no less than eleven Cardinals swore to Caesar to have Cardinal Giovanni Vera elected, or else to bring about a schism. They are also trying to win over the Cardinals Caraffa, Raffaele Riario, and Pallavicino to their side, and I myself know for certain that the Duke has taken pre­cautions to prevent the arrival of Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, either by sea or land”.

However, it soon became evident that Caesar’s power was over-estimated. He himself felt his inability to withstand the popular hatred, or to make headway against the Barons, who were threatening him with vengeance, while all his efforts to obtain possession of the Castle of St. Angelo by bribery failed to overcome the integrity of its custodian, Francesco Roccamura.

Hitherto he had but to command and be obeyed, but now he found himself obliged to enter into a treaty with the Colonna faction and with the Cardinals. Burchard notes with surprise his submissiveness towards the Sacred College, to whom he swore obedience on the 22nd of August. In consequence, he was allowed to retain his appointment as a Captain-General of the Church until the new Pope had been elected; but the unanimous decision of the Cardinals to hold the Conclave in the Castle of St Angelo plainly shews how little they trusted him. Even there, however, many did not consider themselves safe, for Caesar continued to exert himself to the utmost to secure the election of a Spanish Pope who would be favourable to him.

If the election was to be free, it was absolutely necessary to get the Duke out of Rome. The Cardinals, especially the Italian Cardinals, laboured assiduously to effect this, and were supported by the Ambassadors of Germany, France, Spain, and Venice. The negotiations lasted from the 25th August to the 31st September, when Caesar finally consented to withdraw from Rome within three days, the Cardinals on their side engaging to protect him against all attacks, and granting him a free passage through the States of the Church. They also promised to warn Venice against any attempts to get hold of his possessions in the Romagna. The Ambassadors of Maximilian and Ferdinand pledged themselves that neither Caesar, the Spanish army, nor the Colonna should approach from within 8 to 10 miles of Rome as long as the Papal Chair remained vacant, and those of France and Venice entered into a similar engagement in regard to the French army and the Orsini.

On the following day a part of the Duke’s artillery left Rome by the Trastevere; the news had just reached him that Piombino, Rimini, and Pesaro had thrown off his yoke. He himself was carried in a litter from the Vatican to Monte Mario; at the Porta Viridaria, Cardinal Cesarini wished to speak to him, but was told that “the Duke gave no audiences.”

It soon became known that Caesar had placed himself under the protection of the French army at Nepi. He had already, on the 1st of September, entered into a secret agreement with the representatives of Louis XII, in which he promised to place his troops at the disposal of the King, and to behave towards him as an obedient vassal and help him against all his enemies, the Church only excepted; Louis on his part guaranteed to Caesar all his present possessions and engaged to assist him to recover those which he had lost at the death of Alexander VI.

The maintenance of order having been already secured by the hire of a sufficient force in the pay of the College of Cardinals, they could now proceed to make arrangements for the Conclave. Under these more favourable circumstances it was decided that it should be held in the Vatican.

Public opinion was very much divided as to the probable result of the election. Antonio Giustinian writes on 19th August: “The better minded would like to have Caraffa or Piccolomini, though Costa would make an excellent Pope; only his age and his Spanish name are against him”. A few days later Pallavicino and Podocatharo were also mentioned; of the latter it was said that he would have the votes of all the Spaniards.

On the 4th September the obsequies of the late Pope began and lasted nine days. Meanwhile many of the absent Cardinals had arrived in Rome. Soderini came on the 30th of August, Cornaro on the 1st of September, Trivulzi and Giuliano della Rovere on the 3rd (the latter had been an exile for nearly ten years). On the 6th Colonna arrived, on the 9th Riario, and on the 10th George S. d’Amboise, Luigi d’Aragona, and Ascanio Sforza. The latter had led Louis XII to believe that if he would allow him to take part in the Conclave he would vote for the French candidate, Cardinal d’Amboise.

Through their treaty with Caesar Borgia the French party thought they could count on the support of the eleven Spanish Cardinals, and d’Amboise himself did not scruple to use every means in his power, flattery, promises, and even covert threats, in order to win over the remainder. In employing the latter he counted, of course, on the influence which the proximity of the French troops must exert. In case of need, as the Mantuan Ambassador said, it had been decided to have recourse to arms. No means were to be rejected that could possibly obtain the Tiara for the favourite of the King of France, and thus secure French ascendency in Italy and the world.

Ferdinand of Spain was naturally the chief opponent of these plans. From the very beginning his Ambassadors were doing their utmost to secure the election of a Spanish Pope. His candidates were Piccolomini, Castro, and Carvajal; the one whom above all he wished to exclude was Giuliano della Rovere, whom he regarded as a partisan of France.

As long as Caesar Borgia had remained in Rome he had exercised a strong influence on the Spanish Cardinals. As soon as he had left the city and was known to have gone to the French camp, this was of course at an end. Bernardino Carvajal became the leader of the Spanish Cardinals, and they held together as closely as possible, knowing that they had all the detestation which the Borgia had brought upon themselves on their shoulders. In the face of the storm of hatred which had burst forth from the populace of Rome on the death of Alexander the election of a Spaniard was out of the question. The reaction against the late Pope was too strong. This made the loss of the eleven Spanish votes all the more vexatious for the French. Their prospects declined at once. The Mantuan Ambassador, writing on the 12th of September, to a vivid description of the excitement amongst the electors, “who are running hither and thither like bees and intriguing in all directions”, adds significantly, “but d’Amboise will not be Pope.”

Giuliano della Rovere, however, was for the French the most dangerous of all their opponents. It was he who made it plain to all the world how disastrous would be the consequences if the man who was Louis’ all power­ful minister, and had been Caesar Borgia’s friend, were elected.

Giuliano’s arrival in Rome completely changed the whole state of affairs. He was as outspoken as if his election were already an accomplished fact. On the 5th September he said to the Venetian Ambassador: “I have come here on my own account and not on other people’s. I shall not vote for d’Amboise. If I fail to obtain the Tiara myself, I hope whoever succeeds will strive to maintain peace in Italy, and to promote the interests of religion.” He took pains to point out to the Cardinals that if a French Pope were elected it was extremely probable that the seat of the Papacy would again be transferred to France. These representations naturally carried great weight with the Spanish and Italian members of the College. As the Italians were largely in the majority (they were twenty- two out of thirty-seven) they could easily have made Giuliano Pope had they been unanimous. This, however, was far from being the case. Some were for Caraffa, others for Pallavicino, others again for Giuliano. Cardinal Giovanni Colonna held with the Spaniards, while the Florentine Cardinals, Medici and Soderini, were on the French side.

The divisions among the Italian Cardinals threw the casting vote into the hands of the united Spanish party. Giuliano saw this at once and consequently from the first devoted himself to the work of winning the Spaniards. On the 12th September the Mantuan Envoy writes: “Neither d’Amboise, Giuliano, Caraffa, nor Riario will be Pope; Podocatharo, Piccolomini, or Pallavicino have the best chance, for they are favoured by the Spaniards; but the common opinion is that the Cardinals will not be able to agree.”

Thus, from the very beginning of the Conclave, the representatives of the three great Latin nations stood opposed to each other. Not one of the few representatives of the non-Latin nationalities was in Rome, when, after the Chair of S. Peter had been vacant for thirty days, the Conclave at last began on 16th September. The number of Cardinals who took part in it, thirty-seven, was much larger than had been present at any former Conclave. Even as late as the 12th of September there had been pro­tracted discussions whether it should not be held in S. Marco under the protection of the Roman people, but the final decision was in favour of the Vatican. Immediately before the opening of the Conclave, d’Amboise decided to pay visits to his two rivals, Caraffa and Giuliano della Rovere. The Mantuan Envoy, who reports this, adds, there was no exchange of visits between d’Amboise and Piccolomini, Pallavicino, and Podocatharo. The Tiara will fall to one of these three; if to the last, because he is a good man, if to either of the others, because they are neutral and favoured by the Spaniards. Four days later the Venetian Ambassador says that Piccolomini or Pallavicino will probably be elected.

The first thing the Cardinals did, was to draw up a new Election-capitulation to supersede that of 1484. One of its provisions was that the Pope should summon a Council for the reform of the Church within two years after his election, and that then a General Council should be held every three years.

On the 17th of September d’Amboise had proclaimed, in his usual swaggering manner, that either he or another Frenchman would certainly be chosen. Five days earlier he had told the Venetian Envoy what he really thought He said, “I have heard that several Cardinals have bound themselves by an oath not to elect any Cardinal who is a Frenchman or a friend of the King of France. This has greatly incensed me. I see no reason why the French nation should be shut out from the Papacy, and if my King, who is the first-born son of the Church, and has done more than any other Prince for the Apostolic See, is trying to promote the election of a French Pope, I do not think he can be blamed, when he has seen how unworthily one Spaniard and two Italians have ruled her. Our generals are aware of these intrigues, and will not patiently endure such a slight to their King”. Then he complained of various simoniacal negotiations, and added: “If I perceive anything of this kind you may be sure that I shall not let it pass; and my protest will be such that none shall fail to hear it”. “Evidently,” the Envoy continues, “the Cardinal sees that his cause is lost. He already says that he has been betrayed. He has just found out that Ascanio Sforza, far from troubling himself about him, is working hard to secure his own election.”

Such indeed was the case. On the 13th of September the Venetian Ambassador writes, “Ascanio Sforza makes no secret of his intentions; he says he had promised his vote to d’Amboise and he shall have that, but nothing else.” The acclamations with which Ascanio had been greeted when he entered Rome had naturally encouraged him to think well of his chances. Burchard, after narrating the hearty welcome he had received, adds in his Diary, “God alone knows what these cries were to Ascanio.”

The hopes which d’Amboise had built on Cardinal d’Aragona were equally doomed to disappointment. He, like Ascanio, was not disposed to seal the ruin of his house by forwarding the election of a French Pope.

But, though forced to give up all hopes for himself, d’Amboise none the less did his best to secure the election of one or other of the French candidates. All his efforts, however, were in vain, owing to the firm front presented by the Spanish Cardinals, none of whom could be won over.

The prospects of Giuliano della Rovere rose in pro­portion as those of d’Amboise declined. At first we are told he wanted but two votes to make up the two-thirds majority. But at the last moment he found himself foiled by his old enemy Ascanio.

The strength of the various parties, and also their inability to bring matters to a conclusion, were manifested in the vote that was taken on the 21st September. Giuliano della Rovere had the highest vote, fifteen (still far below the requisite majority of two-thirds); Caraffa came next with fourteen, d’Amboise had thirteen, Carvajal twelve, Riario eight.

Thus no party was in a position to carry the election, and yet the situation was one that demanded a speedy settlement Both Burchard and the Venetian Ambassador agree in saying that, under these circumstances, Cardinal d’Amboise preferred a candidate whose age and weakness marked him out as a temporary Pope. Antonio Giustinian writes, “As soon as d’Amboise perceived that his own election was out of the question, he determined at any rate to prevent the election of any one not of his choice.” Like a prudent man, he swam with the stream, and on 21st September, acting in concert with Ascanio Sforza, Soderini, and Medici, he proposed the name of the old and ailing Cardinal Francesco Piccolomini.

As the Spanish Cardinals agreed to support him, the matter was decided at once. On the following morning (22nd September) the election took place, and Piccolomini was made Pope, taking the name of Pius III in honour of his uncle.

“It is impossible to express the joy of the people of Rome at Piccolomini’s election,” writes the Mantuan Envoy on the 22nd September, and the representative of Venice says, “The previous life of the new Pope, marked by numerous deeds of kindness and charity, lead the people to hope that his Pontificate will be the exact opposite to that of Alexander VI, and thus they are beside themselves with joy.” This general rejoicing was fully justified. All his contemporaries agree in saying that the personal character and abilities of the new Pope were of the highest order. He was made a member of the Sacred College in 1460, at an early age, by his uncle Pius II, and the Cardinal of Siena, as Piccolomini was then called, had always distinguished himself by his cultivation of mind, his great ability, and his blameless life. Under Pius II he had suc­cessfully governed the March of Placentia, and in the time of Paul II had filled the difficult post of Legate in Germany with consummate tact, to the great satisfaction of the then Pope; the knowledge of German which he had acquired while living in the household of Pius II being naturally of great assistance to him there. Afterwards, when, owing to the influence of the nephews of Sixtus IV, a worldly spirit predominated at the Court, he, like others of a pious and serious turn of mind, kept away from Rome as much as possible, and still more so in the time of Alexander VI. Like his uncle Pius II. Cardinal Piccolomini was tormented with gout, and was prematurely old and decrepit, although he had led a very regular life. Sigismondo de’ Conti especially praises his scrupulous love of order. “He left no moment in the day unoccupied; his time for study was before day-break, he spent his morning in prayer, and his midday hours in giving audiences to which the humblest had easy access. He was so temperate in food and drink, that he only allowed himself an evening meal every other day.”

It is therefore not surprising that all good men were filled with the brightest hopes. “A new light has shone upon us,” writes Peter Delphinus, the General of the Camaldolese, “our hearts rejoice, and our eyes are filled with tears because God our Lord has had mercy on His people and has given them a Chief Shepherd who is a holy man, innocent, and of untarnished name. Our deep sorrow has been turned to joy, and a day of sunshine has followed a night of storm. We are all filled with the highest hopes for the reform of the Church, and the return of peace”. “God be thanked that the government of the Church has been entrusted to such a man, who is so manifestly a storehouse of all virtues and the abode of the Holy Spirit of God. Under his care the Lord’s vineyard will no more bring forth thorns and thistles, but will stretch out its fruitful branches to the ends of the earth.”

“The misery of the past, the marred countenance of the Church, the scourge of God’s righteous anger, are still before my eyes,” writes Cosimo de’ Pozzi, Bishop of Arezzo, on the 28th of September, 1502, to the newly-elected Pontiff. “When all hope of release seemed shut away, God has given us in you a Pope whose wisdom, culture, and learning, whose religious education and virtuous life, has filled all good and God-fearing men with consolation. Now we can all hope for a new era in the history of the Church.”

The earliest acts of Pius III, corresponded with these expectations. In an assembly of the Cardinals, which took place on the 25th of September, he made it clear that his chief aim was to be the reform of the Church and the restor­ation of the peace of Christendom. He said the reform must extend to the Pope himself, the Cardinals, the whole Court and all the Papal officials, and that the Council must be summoned to meet at the earliest date possible. The news soon spread through all the countries of Europe, and in Germany encouraged the Archbishop of Mayence, Berthold von Henneberg, to draw up a memorial, setting forth the reforms that he considered necessary for the Church in that country. The Pope also made excellent regulations for the better government of the immediate possessions of the Holy See, and was extremely economical in his expenditure.

Pius III was eager to secure peace at any cost, and pre­cisely for that reason he did not succeed in doing so. The inheritance bequeathed to him by the Borgia was of a nature to frustrate all his endeavours. On the 26th of September the Pope said to the Venetian Envoy, “In consequence of the pressure put upon me by the Spanish Cardinals, I have been compelled to issue some Briefs in favour of Caesar Borgia, but I will not give him any further help. I do not intend to be a warlike, but a peace-loving Pope.” He certainly had no sympathy for the Borgia family, especially for Caesar, and he found that the Vatican had been robbed on all sides, and that the Apostolic Treasury was grievously in debt. But hatred was utterly foreign to his mild and gentle temper. “I wish no harm to the Duke,” he said, “for it is the duty of a Pope to have loving-kindness for all, but I foresee that he will come to a bad end by the judgment of God.”

He was not wrong in his forecast. The whole power of the Borgia family, built up by cunning, treachery, and bloodshed, which threatened at one time to swallow up the States of the Church, came to an untimely end.

With the departure of the French army for Naples, Caesar lost his last refuge. Bartolomeo d’Alviano was hurrying from Venice with fierce threats of vengeance, and the Orsini and Savelli were preparing to close upon him at once. He saw that it was impossible for him to remain at Nepi. Not yet completely recovered from his illness, he entreated the gentle Pius to allow him to return to Rome. “I never thought,” said the Pope to the Ferrarese Envoy, “that I should feel any pity for the Duke, and yet I do most deeply pity him. The Spanish Cardinals have interceded for him. They tell me he is very ill, and wishes to come and die in Rome, and I have given him permission.” When Caesar arrived there on the 3rd of October his entire army had dwindled down to 650 men. The state of his health was certainly not satisfactory, but by no means so bad as had been represented to the Pope. Many people in Rome, especially the Cardinals , Giuliano della Rovere and Riario, were exceedingly dissatisfied with Pius for having allowed him to come back. On. the 7th of October, speaking to the Venetian Envoy, the Pope apologised for his leniency by saying, “I am neither a saint nor an angel, but only a man, and liable to err. I have been deceived.”

The date of the Coronation of the new Pope was fixed for the 8th of October; it was attended by a vast concourse of people. Before the Coronation, Pius, who hitherto had only been a deacon, received priestly and episcopal Orders. The long ceremonies were a great strain on the strength of the Pope, who was suffering from gout, and had only lately undergone a painful operation on his leg. He said Mass sitting, and on account of his weakness the formal entry into the Lateran was put off till later.

Although the state of the Pope’s health in the next few days got rather worse than better, he still held numerous audiences, took counsel on the 9th of October with the various Ambassadors, as to the measures to be adopted in case of an invasion of the States of the Church by Bartolomeo d’Alviano, and held a long Consistory on the nth of October, in which he went carefully into the questions of the appointment of new Cardinals and the unquiet state of the city. Bartolomeo d’Alviano, Giampaolo Baglione, and many of the Orsini were there, and, together with the Cardinals Giuliano della Rovere and Riario, were insisting on the disbandment of Caesar’s army; otherwise, they said, they would take up arms themselves. Overtures to the Orsini were made both by the French and the Spaniards. With the single exception of Giovanni Giordano they decided, out of hatred to the Duke, to treat with the Spanish party, and allied themselves with the Colonna. On the 12th of October the reconciliation between these two houses, hitherto always at enmity, was openly announced. Caesar was now at the end of all his resources. It was rumoured that he had fled with Cardinal d’Amboise, but the latter showed no inclination to drawdown on himself the hatred attached to the Borgia family, and on the 15th of October, forsaken by all, he attempted to flee from Rome to escape the vengeance of the Orsini. Hardly, however, had he left the precincts of the Vatican when the greater part of his men deserted him, and with a following of not more than seventy he had to return to his house. The Orsini demanded that the Pope should have him arrested, in order that he might not elude the results of the legal proceedings about to be instituted against him. The Venetian Ambassador describes Bartolomeo d’Alviano as raging like a mad dog; he had set a guard at every gate that the Duke might not escape him.

But the Pope was not in a state to comply with the demands of the Orsini, for on the 13th of October he was lying on his deathbed. Hence the Orsini determined to take the matter into their own hands, and arrest him themselves. Caesar fled, by means of the secret passage, to the Castle of St Angelo as they were storming the Borgo. The Spanish Cardinals had planned his escape disguised as a monk, but the Orsini had completely invested the Castle. Here where once his enemies had trembled before him, sat the man whose hand, a few months earlier, had been almost within grasp of the crown of Central Italy, cowering in hopeless terror with only two or three servants by his side.

In the meantime the Pope’s end was approaching. On the 15th of October the doctors had thought his case serious, on account of his weakness and his great age. As the fever never for an instant left him, by the 17th his condition was hopeless.

His faculties remained clear, and his mind calm. Although he did not himself believe the end to be so near, yet he received the Viaticum on the 17th of October for the second time during his illness, and on the following night the Sacrament of Extreme Unction. All who surrounded him were touched and edified by his devotion. Tranquil and resigned, he fell asleep on the evening of the 18th of October.

“The death of this Pope” wrote the Ambassador of Ferrara on 19th October, “will be lamented at all the courts of Europe, for he was by universal consent held to be good, prudent, and pious. In spite of the rainy weather at the time all Rome hastened to kiss the feet of the dead Pope, whose features were quite unaltered. People think that he died of the labours of the Pontificate, which were too heavy for his already enfeebled health. The night before his election he did not sleep at all, and since then he has had no rest. He was continually giving audience to the Cardinals; then came the fatiguing ceremonies of his consecration and coronation. On the previous Wednesday a long Consistory was held, the Pope remaining conscientiously to the end. On the Friday he gave some very tong audiences; kept the abstinence and ate fish, although he had taken medicine only the day before. Then he got the fever, which never left him till he died.” As the Siennese, Sigismondo Tizio, says, “The death of Pius III was a great loss to the Church, to the city of Rome, and to us all, but perhaps we deserved no less for our sins.”

“We hear of nothing but the election of the new Pope,” wrote the Mantuan Ambassador on the day of Pius III’s death, “but it is very difficult to say which name will come out of the urn”. Eight days later the question was decided.

Burchard relates that one Sunday, the 29th of October, 1503, Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere and the other Spanish Cardinals with Caesar Borgia assembled in the Papal Palace, and drew up an Election-capitulation in which, among other things, Cardinal Giuliano undertook if he were made Pope to appoint Caesar standard-bearer to the Church, and to allow him to retain all his possessions, Caesar on his part undertaking to support the Pope in all things. All the Spanish Cardinals promised to vote for Giuliano at the election.

Thus, by means of Caesar’s help, against whom the Orsini now no longer dared to attempt anything, and supported by the Spanish Cardinals, Giuliano, according to the best informed diplomatists, was nearer than ever to attaining the highest dignity. All that was now needed was to secure the majority of two-thirds. Giuliano, whom the popular voice seemed to indicate as the only possible Pope, was as unscrupulous as any of his colleagues in the means which he employed. Where promises and persuasions were unavailing, he did not hesitate to have recourse to bribery.

Before the Conclave began Giuliano already had on his side the majority of the Italian Cardinals, the Venetians in compliance with the wishes of their government, Caesar Borgia, and the Spaniards, and, what was still more important, the French party and d’Amboise with them, who before had threatened to create a schism, yet now, like Ascanio Sforza, turned to adore the rising sun.

When, on the 30th of October, the Orsini and Savelli had been induced to withdraw from Rome, the preparations for the Conclave were complete and it began on the following day. On the 31st of October, Giuliano, with thirty-seven other Cardinals, entered it, practically as Pope-elect. Not many hours later his election was an accomplished fact, and on the following morning, 1st November, the decision of the Conclave, which had been the shortest known in all the long history of the Papacy, was formally announced.

Contemporary writers without exception express the greatest astonishment at the almost unanimous election of one who, like Giuliano, was hated by many and feared by all. Sigismondo de’ Conti notices as a curious fact that the second successor of Alexander VI was a Cardinal who had been persecuted by the Borgia. The Roman people accorded a hearty welcome to the new Pope, who took the title of Julius II, and still greater was the rejoicing in Liguria, his native province. Francesco Guidiccioni, writing on 2nd November, 1503, from Rome to Ferrara, says: “People here expect the reign of Julius II to be glorious, peaceful, genial, and free-handed. The Roman people, usually so addicted to plunder, are behaving so quietly that everyone is in astonishment We have a Pope who will be both loved and feared.”

After his election the Pope confirmed once more the Election-capitulation. Amongst its conditions were the prosecution of the war against the Turks, and the restora­tion of discipline in the Church. To this end it stipulated that a General Council should be summoned within two years, that the Pope should not make war against any of the Powers without the consent of two-thirds of the Cardinals, and that the Sacred College should be consulted on all important occasions, especially in the choice of new Cardinals. In order to secure the freedom and safety of the next Council the place of meeting was to be determined by the Pope and two-thirds of the Cardinals, and in case any hindrance to its meeting should be alleged, this must be proved to the satisfaction of a similar majority.

The motives of the Cardinals in framing this capitulation, which so unduly and unlawfully limited the rights of the Pope, were no purer than formerly. Certain of its provisions, as for example the one requiring the consent of two-thirds of the Cardinals before a declaration of war, were utterly unreasonable and impracticable, as a glance at the political state of Italy at the time will show. In the South, Spain had taken possession of Naples and Sicily; in the North, France was constantly struggling to extend her influence, while Venice at the same time was attacking the possessions of the Holy See in the Romagna. “Both as a Pope and as an Italian, Julius II found himself in a most difficult position. To remain a passive spectator of this scene of seething confusion would have been a clear dereliction of duty in a ruler and still more in a Pope. To prevent himself from being overwhelmed by circumstances and falling helplessly into the clutches of one or other of the great Powers, it was indispensable that Julius should act at once and with decision, and if necessary take the sword into his own hands”; and for this he was admirably fitted.

The Pope’s countrymen were wont to say that he had the soul of an Emperor, and his outward appearance was distinguished, grave, and dignified. The deep-set eager eyes, compressed lips, pronounced nose, and massive, rather than handsome head, denoted a strongly-marked and powerful personality. His scanty hair was nearly white, but the fire of youth glowed beneath the snows of age. From his florid complexion and erect carriage, no one would have guessed that the new Pope was already on the threshold of old age. Still less was there any trace of declining years in his general demeanour. Restless, and ever in motion, ceaselessly active and perpetually occupied with some great design, self-willed and passionate to the highest degree, he was often extremely trying to those who were brought in contact with him.

The Venetian Ambassadors speak of the Pope as extremely acute, but terribly violent and difficult to deal with. “He has not the patience to listen quietly to what you say to him, and to take men as he finds them. But those who know how to manage him, and whom he trusts, say that his will is always good. No one has any influence over him, and he consults few, or none. One cannot count upon him, for he changes his mind from hour to hour. Anything that he has been thinking of overnight has to be carried out immediately the next morning, and he insists on doing everything himself. It is almost impossible to describe how strong and violent and difficult to manage he is. In body and soul he has the nature of a giant. Everything about him is on a magnified scale, both his undertakings and passions. His impetuosity and his temper annoy those who live with him, but he inspires fear rather than hatred, for there is nothing in him that is small or meanly selfish.” Everything had to bow to his iron will, even his own poor gout’ tormented body. “He had no moderation either in will or conception; whatever was in his mind must be carried through; even if he himself were to perish in the attempt.”

The impression produced on his contemporaries by this mighty scion of the Renaissance is summarised by them in the Italian word “terribile”, which could only be rendered in English by a string of adjectives. Julius II applied this term himself to Michael Angelo, but it suits the Pope quite as well as the painter. Both were extraordinary and Titanic natures, in stature beyond that of ordinary men, and such as no other age has produced. Both possessed an unusual strength of will, indomitable courage arid perseverance, and great strategic abilities.

The life of Julius II had hitherto been one of incessant combat and hard work, and these things had become necessary to him. He belonged to that class of men who cannot rest, whose natural element is perpetual activity. At the same time, he was by no means unsusceptible to feelings of a gentler kind. He was deeply affected and shed tears as he watched the funeral procession of his sister Lucchina in May, 1509.

Julius II can only be called a diplomatist by using the word in a very restricted sense. If he did not altogether despise the arts of statecraft so universally practised in his day, and could at a pinch resort to dissimulation, he was by nature sincere and plain-spoken, and often his language overstepped all due bounds in its rudeness and violence. This fault increased perceptibly as he grew older. In the beginning of his Pontificate he was able to restrain his expressions within the limits of diplomatic form; later on, in speaking of the Emperor Maximilian, he permitted himself to use the most contemptuous and injurious terms without the least reserve. Disguise of any kind was contrary to his nature. Any idea which laid hold of his mind engrossed him entirely; you could see it in his face, his lips quivered to utter it. “It will kill me,” he would say, “if I don’t let it out.”

Paris de Grassis, his Master of Ceremonies, who has handed on to us so many characteristic features of his master’s life, says that he hardly ever jested. He was generally absorbed in deep and silent thought, and thus Raphael has painted him. The plans concocted in these uncommunicative hours were announced with volcanic abruptness and carried out with iron determination. His bitterest opponents could not deny his greatness—he was a man of spontaneous impulses carrying everything before them, himself and others, a true Roman.

Doubtless such a nature was in itself more suited to be a King or a warrior, than a priest, but he was the right Pope for that time, to save Rome from becoming a second Avignon with all its disastrous consequences for the Church.

To Julius II the restoration, consolidation, and ex­tension of the temporal possessions of the Church presented itself as the prime necessity of the moment, and to this he devoted himself with all the energy of his choleric temperament and strong practical genius. A new monarchy must be created which should command respect abroad, be the rallying point of the Italian States, and secure the freedom and independence of the Church. The Pope must no longer be dependent upon the support of this Power or that, but must be able himself to control the political situation.

The aim which he set before himself from the first was to revive the temporal power of the Papacy, and to establish the independence of the Holy See on a firm basis by the creation of a strong ecclesiastical State. Fearlessly confronting the hindrances which the evil rule of the Borgia had put in his way, shrinking from no sacrifices, and ready to employ any means, he threw the whole strength of his will into this one endeavour. This he pursued with unwearied persistence and clear insight to his very last breath, and thus became the “Saviour of the Papacy.”

Even Guicciardini, much as he hated the state policy of Julius II, is forced to admit that he had no private or selfish desires. “Although in his youth he had lived very much as the other prelates of that day did, and was by no means scrupulous, he devoted himself to the exaltation and welfare of the Church with a whole-heartedness and courage which were very rare in the age in which he was born. Without neglecting his relations, he never sacrificed the interests of either the State or the Church to them, or carried his nepotism beyond due bounds. In all his ways and aims, as well as in his stormy and fervid character, he was the exact contrary of the Borgia.”

His dislike of this family was so strong that on the 26th of November, 1507, he announced that he would no longer inhabit the Appartamento Borgia, as he could not bear to be constantly reminded by the fresco portraits of Alexander of “those Marañas of cursed memory.” The Bull in which, in the year 1504, Julius II took the Duchy of Sermoneta away from Rodrigo Borgia and restored it to the Gaetani, contains even more severe language than this in condemnation of his predecessor. In the same year he reinvested Giovanni Sforza, who had returned to Pesaro immediately after Alexander’s death, with the fiefdom of that place. He also gave back their castles to the Colonna and Orsini.

The contrast between Julius II and Alexander is equally manifest in the way in which the former treated his relations. He wholly repudiated the system of nepotism, and though he was not free from a natural partiality for his own blood, comparatively speaking he did very little for them. Even on his deathbed he steadily refused to admit a near kinsman to the College of Cardinals, whom he did not consider worthy. “His nephew Francesco Maria was heir presumptive of Urbino and to him he granted, with the consent of the College of Cardinals, the Vicariate of Pesaro, formerly a fief of the Sforzas (Giovanni Sforza died in 1510), and this was the only portion of the States which he ever withdrew from the immediate rule of the Holy See.” On the 2nd of March, 1505, Francesco Maria was married by procuration to Leonora, daughter of the Marquess Francesco Gonzaga. Julius took no part in the wedding festivities at the Vatican, excusing himself on the ground of decorum.

Out of the twenty-seven Cardinals whom Julius II created, only a very small number were relations of his own, and none of these had any influence, although the Pope was extremely fond of Galeotto della Rovere. This Cardinal was a man of refined culture, the son of the Pope’s sister Lucchina by her first marriage with Franciotto of Lucca. He was raised to the Cardinalate on the 29th of November, 1503. At the same time Francois Guillaume de Clermont, Archbishop of Auch, Juan de Zuñiga, and Clemente Grosso della Rovere were nominated. Galeotto, who was Vice-Chancellor from 1505, held a large number of benefices in accordance with the evil custom of the times, “but he made a noble use of his large revenues”. Artists and men of learning found in him a most generous patron. “He understood how to soothe his uncle in his violent moods by his tact and gentleness”. He was an intimate friend of Cardinal Medici (afterwards Leo X), whose tastes were similar to his own, and who, even as Cardinal, was lavish in his liberality to artists and scholars.

The second nomination of Cardinals under Julius II was preceded by tedious negotiations, for the majority of the College, from self-interested motives, did not wish their number to be increased. The Pope, however, insisted, and the Cardinals then endeavoured to persuade him at least to defer it. But Julius held that it was absolutely necessary to fill up the vacancies, as in the year 1504 alone six had died. The College still continued its resistance, but the Envoys were convinced that the Pope would conquer. They thought the creation would take place on the 28th of November, 1505.

On the 1st December, after a long and stormy discussion, the Consistory having lasted eight hours, Julius carried his point so far as to have it arranged that in the approaching Ember week nine out of ten candidates whom he had proposed should receive the Red-hat. The official nomination and publication took place in the Consistory of the 12th of November.

The new Cardinals were : Marco Vigerio, Bishop of Sinigaglia; Robert Chailand, Bishop of Rennes, and French Ambassador in Rome; Leonardo Grosso della Rovere, the brother of Cardinal Clementi; Antonio Ferreri, Bishop of Gubbio; Francesco Alidosi, Bishop of Pavia; Gabriello dei Gabrielli, Bishop of Urbino; Fazio Santori, Bishop of Cesena; Carlo Domenico di Carretto, Count of Finale; and Sigismondo Gonzaga. With the exception of the last named, they were all in Rome at the time, and on the 17th of December they each received their hats and titular churches. The ascendency of Julius II over the Cardinals was now secured, although all opposition was not wholly overcome till somewhat later.

To the great grief of the Pope and the Roman people, Galeotto della Rovere died on the 11th September, 1508. Julius transferred his Cardinal’s hat and all his benefices to Sixtus Gara della Rovere, Galeotto’s half-brother, who unhappily was far from resembling him in character, either intellectually or morally.

Besides these three creations, Julius II in the year 1507 nominated four Cardinals, eight in 1511, and one in 1512, but none of these were in any way related to him. Thus the historian of the city of Rome only states the exact truth when he says, “Alexander VI aimed at nothing but the aggrandisement of his children; the one care of Julius II was to build up the States of the Church, he spent nothing on his nephews”. He was also moderate in his personal expenditure, though he kept a better table than Alexander VI; the monthly bill for this was between 2000 and 3000 ducats, that of his successor was 8000. His expenditure for plate was by no means extravagant.

Julius II was so economical in his house-keeping that he was, quite unjustly, accused by many of being a miser. It is quite true that he was very careful to keep his treasury always well filled. He quite realised the futility of any pretensions that had not physical force to back them, and knew that an efficient army meant plenty of money. In the beginning of his reign, Julius II had great financial difficulties to contend with, in consequence of the extravagance of his predecessor. He had to borrow money, and to pay Alexander’s debts, even down to the medicine which he had required in his last illness.

Some of the means which he adopted for the replenishment of his treasury were of a very objectionable kind. His subjects were certainly not oppressed with taxation, but it cannot be denied that he not only sold offices, but also benefices. This formed a serious hindrance to the reform which was so much needed; for if that were carried out, it would mean the abolition of all such sales. It is true that under Julius II the money was employed for the interests of the Church, and not for the enrichment of his family; but this is no justification for persistence in simony. The complaints of contemporaries both in Italy and abroad shew how strongly this abuse was resented. Another great evil was that grants of occasional Indulgences were so often employed as a means of obtaining money. In the case of the Jubilee Indulgences, powers for which were conceded by the Pope to the German Orders, the Chapter of Constance, and the Augsburg Dominicans, the half of the proceeds were to be handed over to Rome.

The Pope’s fixed income in the year 1510 was estimated by the Venetian Ambassador at 200,000 ducats, and his floating income at 150,000, a very small sum for one in the position of Head of the Church. The accounts of the treasure in the Castle of St. Angelo during the reign of Julius II are of such a nature that it is impossible to arrive at any certain conclusion as to the exact amount; but we know that at his death it was more than had been left by any previous Pope since John XXII.

By his good management in matters of finance, Julius II was enabled not only to carry on his wars for the reconstruction of the States of the Church, and to carry out many noble artistic undertakings, but also to be very generous in the matter of alms-giving, and amply to provide for all necessary works in the city and in the States of the Church. Perfect order reigned in Rome under the strong hand of Niccolò de’ Fieschi of the family of the Counts of Lavagna, who was Captain of the Watch. The murderous outrages which had become so frequent in the reigns of Innocent VIII and Alexander VI had entirely ceased. The streets of Rome, which the Pope was constantly widening or embellishing, could now be traversed in peace and security. Raphael’s fresco of the Mass of Bolsena has made us familiar with the outward appearance of the Swiss Guards; they numbered 200 men, upon whom the Pope could absolutely depend. They also formed a permanent central body, serving as a nucleus for a larger army when more troops were needed, and their officers brought the best families in Switzerland into close and confidential relations with Rome. The regulations of Julius II defining the authority of the Judges of the Capitol, and also of the Vicar, Governor, and Senators, in cases of disputes and quarrels within the city, were of great service. Still more valuable was the work of reorganising the coinage which he carried through, correcting the discrepancies between the nominal and real value of the different kinds of money, and introducing into the currency the silver coins, originally called Giuli, but afterwards known as Paoli. Both trade and the revenue were immensely benefited by these operations. The Jewish coiners of counterfeit money were put down by him with a strong hand.

The misrule in the Campagna, where the turbulent Barons and landowners made it impossible for the farmers to cultivate their fields, repeatedly caused a great scarcity of corn in Rome, especially in the years 1504 and 1505. Julius II, always careful that the city should be well supplied with provisions, at once came energetically to the rescue. In 1504 the dearth was so great that he had not only to apply to Ferdinand of Spain for leave to import grain from Sicily, but also to obtain a similar permission from the Kings of France and England. The purchasable office of agent for the importation of grain was created by this Pope.

The dangers which in those days beset the channels of traffic, whether by land or sea, explain the anxiety of all the Popes to promote tillage in the Campagna, in spite of manifold hindrances, in order to depend as little as possible on imports for the necessaries of life. Julius II achieved considerable success in this direction. Under him the conditions of life in the Campagna improved so much that agricultural operations could be carried on steadily and methodically. He found means to prevent the passage of large bodies of troops through the country in the neigh­bourhood of Rome, and greatly to moderate the feuds of the Barons. Under those more favourable circumstances, the ordinances of Sixtus IV were revived with much better effect, and the amount of land under cultivation increased. He also inflicted severe penalties on all land­owners who in any way hindered the cultivators from carrying whatever grain they could spare to the Roman market.

The commencement of a stable and uniform system of administration in the States of the Church dates from the reign of Julius II, though, of course, it would not bear, at that early period, to be judged in these respects by a modern standard. A Brief of 22nd July, 1506, dealing very severely with all malversations or acts of oppression on the part of either secular or ecclesiastical authorities within these provinces, and requiring all state or communal officials to submit their accounts annually to the Commissioners of the Roman Treasury for revision, was an important step in this direction.

Constantly harassed as he was by political or ecclesiastical anxieties, Julius II. always found time to attend to the government of his States. In 1511, in spite of the war, and in detestable weather, he went to Cervia, to see for himself how the salt works there were going on. Whenever he had the power he looked after the welfare of his subjects, put down abuses and oppression, and did all he could to improve the administration. Nothing escaped his notice; he issued enactments against thefts of wood and cattle, against the exactions of the judges, faction fights, pirates, robbers, and murderers; he endeavoured to adjust long standing boundary disputes and promoted public works, such as the building of bridges and the control and utilisation of rivers.

Like the great mediaeval Popes, such as Gregory IX, whose last Brief was written for the protection of a poor Polish peasant, Julius II was always on the alert to shield the humblest of his subjects from oppression. Thus, on the 7th January, 1507, a time when he was heavily burdened with political cares, we find him writing to the governor of Cesena and Bertinoro: “A citizen of Bertinoro has complained to the Pope that the Castellan has taken wood from him and injured him in other ways. Let the Castellan and his abettors be punished without fail, and take care that, no harm comes to the complainant.”

In order to form a just estimate of the merits of Julius II in regard to the government of the States of the Church, it is necessary to realise the state of utter confusion in which he found these provinces when they came into his hands. It required a man of first-rate powers to bring order into such a chaos. Julius II has been justly likened to Virgil’s Neptune overawing and calming the turbulent waves by his majestic countenance. He won the devoted affection of the whole population. He granted large liberties to the municipalities in the towns. “The Pope,” says Guicciardini,“ took pains to attach the people to the representatives of the Church, so that when the oath of fealty was taken at Bologna, the change was described as a passing out of the state of serfdom under the Bentivogli into that of a free commonwealth, in which the citizens had their share in the government, and in the revenues.” In spite of some mistakes which Julius made in the selection of his Legates, the conditions of life in the States of the Church were such, that even such a bitter foe of the temporal power of the Papacy as Machiavelli is forced to admit that the inhabitants had no desire to throw off its yoke.

CHAPTER II.

Difficulties in the position of Julius II on his Accession. —Fall and Death of Cesar Borgia.—Disputes with Venice.

The position in which the new Pope found himself on his accession was one of singular difficulty. Disorder and confusion prevailed on all sides and he had no money and no army worth mentioning.

In the Patrimony itself the state of things was so bad that on the 8th of November, 1503, Julius was obliged to issue a severe edict against Barons and municipalities who did not put down robbery and brigandage in their districts. The States of the Church were hardly anything more than a name. On all sides the towns were in revolt, and the old dynasties which had been driven out by the Borgia were returning. In the South, war was raging between the Spaniards and the French, and in the North, where their policy had completely upset the relations hitherto subsisting, Venice was taking advantage of the confusion to enlarge her borders at the expense of the possessions of the Church.

Even during the short reign of the gentle Pius III, she had already contrived, partly by force and partly by diplomacy, to obtain possession of Bertinoro, Fano, Montefior, and other places. It soon became evident that the Venetians were forming connections in all quarters throughout the Romagna, with a view to getting the whole province under their power. If they succeeded in this, Caesar would soon be a landless Duke. Already things had gone so far that the only castles still remaining in the hands of his captains were those of Forli, Cesena, Forlimpopoli, and Bertinoro. Everything depended on the attitude taken up by the new Pope, whose coronation took place with great pomp on 28th November, 1503.

Unfortunately, Julius II was greatly indebted to Caesar Borgia and Cardinal d’Amboise, as well as to the Republic of Venice, for his election, and this still further complicated the situation. He satisfied the claims of d’Amboise by bestowing on him, in spite of the opposition of many of the Cardinals and of the citizens of Rome, the legations of Avignon, Venaissin, and France, and a Cardinal’s hat on one of his relations, Francois Guillaume de Clermont. The Pope hoped by this means to secure France as reserve force against Venice.

To shake off his connection with Caesar Borgia was, however, a more difficult matter. Heartily as Julius II hated the Borgia, he did not wish openly to break through the engagements he had made with the Duke, nor did it seem wise “to throw away, unused, so valuable a tool as Caesar could be, while the Holy See in the Romagna , was in such, danger from her powerful neighbour, that the most unsatisfactory Vicariate would be preferable to the present situation.”

At first it seemed as if the Pope had quite forgiven the Borgia. “Cardinal Borgia”, writes Costabili on November 1st, “has been given the Penitentiary. I understand, too, that one of the Rovere family is to marry Cardinal Borgia’s sister. All the other Spanish Cardinals have been rewarded, and they seem for the moment to stand in higher favour than ever.” In his relations with Caesar himself the Pope maintained considerable reserve, but in such a way as not to deprive him of all hope, while still allowing him to feel that his position was precarious.

The first and greatest danger to the States of the Church came, not from Caesar, but from Venice, which was trying to obtain the same command of the Italian sea-board as she had of that of Dalmatia. The gravity of this danger was brought forcibly home to Julius II by the tidings of Venetian intrigues which reached him on 7th November, 1503, through his old friend Gabriele da Fano. He at once sent a strong remonstrance to the Republic, and declared that he had no intention of permitting territories which were properly in immediate subjection to the Church, and had now returned to their obedience, to be filched away from her. On the 10th of November Machiavelli reports that Julius had said to Cardinal Soderini, “I always have been, and still am, a friend of the Venetians, as long as they do not hanker after things to which they have no right. But if they persist in robbing the Church of her property, I shall take the strongest measures, and call upon all the Princes of Christendom to help me in resisting them”. On the following day, he spoke in a very friendly manner to the Venetian Ambassador and expressed great affection for the Republic, but at the same time repeated that he was determined to restore the dominion of the Church in the Romagna.

On the 18th of November the Venetian Ambassador, Antonio Giustinian, had a long conversation with the Pope, chiefly about the Romagna. Julius, in language which left nothing to be desired in the way of directness, announced his firm determination to restore to the Church all the possessions there which she had lost; they must not remain under the power of Caesar or of anyone else, and it was for this purpose that he had on the previous day sent the Bishop of Tivoli, Angelo Leonini, as Nuncio, to Venice. “Words fail me,” adds Giustinian, “to describe with what resolution he spoke, and that not once, but again and again.” Nevertheless the Ambassador did not give up the attempt to change the Pope’s mind. It was not from the Church, he represented, but from an enemy of hers, and a bitter enemy of the Pope and of the Republic, that Venice had taken these places. His Holiness must see that it would be impossible for the Church herself to administer this territory; he would have to give it to someone else. This would be hard upon Venice, and she had not deserved to be so treated. When the Pope was a Cardinal, he had himself encouraged the Republic to undertake an expedition against the Romagna. Julius replied that this was against Caesar Borgia, not against the Church; with all his love for the Republic, he said, he could not in honour consent to any curtailment of the States of the Church.

However strongly the Pope might feel about the Venetian encroachments, in his present helpless state, as Machiavelli well knew, he could only temporise. This was equally the case in regard to Caesar Borgia. He had sent the promised Briefs in the Duke’s favour to the cities of the Romagna, but with a secret hope that they might arrive too late, and did not bestow on him the coveted post of Standard-bearer to the Church. This disappointment, together with the bad news from the Romagna, seem to have produced an extraordinary effect on Caesar; he was completely altered. The Envoys found him utterly dispirited and broken. Machiavelli describes his vexation and despair. The Pope told the Venetian Ambassador that he had become so changeable and incomprehensible, that he could not say anything for certain about him. Cardinal Soderini found him irresolute, petulant, and feeble; he thought he had been stunned by the disasters of the last few weeks. The Spanish Cardinal Iloris, said the Duke, seemed to him to have lost his senses; he did not know what he wanted, and was confused and uncertain. In Rome all sorts of strange reports were current about him. Everyone agreed that he was ruined; “not from any faithlessness on the part of the Pope, but by the force of circumstances which no one could alter”. Julius would not do anything against Caesar while the fate of the Romagna was still pending, but he was determined, when he could, to place these territories under the immediate government of the Church. Caesar held frequent conversations with Machiavelli, the representative of Florence in Rome; and on the 18th of November he despatched an Envoy to that city, offering his services as a captain, and begging them to supply him with troops for the conquest of the Romagna; he would come to Leghorn to complete the negotiations. With the permission of the Pope, who was only too glad to get him out of Rome, he started for that place on the 19th November. He embarked before day-break, “to the joy of every one,” in a boat on the Tiber, and went down to Ostia, whence he intended to sail.

Shortly afterwards the news arrived that another im­portant town, Faenza, had surrendered to the Venetians. Julius II, already unable to sleep from anxiety, became violently excited, and sent the Cardinals Soderini and Remolino to Caesar, to require him to deliver up all the other strong places in the Romagna to him, so as to prevent any more from falling into the hands of the Venetians. This the Duke resolutely refused to do.

Meanwhile, tidings reached Rome that Venice had also got possession of Rimini by an agreement with Malatesta. Evidently the only chance of saving what remained lay in prompt action. The Venetians declared that their only object was to get rid of their enemy Caesar. On this the Pope resolved to compel him to relinquish the forts of Forlí and Cesena. He sent orders that the Duke should be arrested and brought to Rome. Caesar appeared utterly overwhelmed; the Mantuan Envoy reports that he wept. He “had every reason to expect a dungeon and death, and in fact Guidobaldi of Urbino and Giovanni Giordano Orsini advised the Pope to put an end to him.”

Julius II scorned these counsels. Caesar was treated with the greatest consideration, and apartments in the Vatican were assigned to him. The Pope hoped by this means to obtain the peaceable surrender of the keys from his governors. Caesar apparently sent the requisite orders, but, according to Sigismondo de’ Conti, this was only a feint. Though there is no proof of it, it seems very probable that he was endeavouring to hoodwink the Pope, who had broken his promises to him. At any rate the governor of Cesena declared that he would not take any orders from Caesar while he was a prisoner, and detained the Papal messengers. When Julius heard this, his first thought was to throw the Duke into one of the dungeons in St. Angelo, but yielding to the Duke’s urgent entreaties, he sent him to the Torre Borgia instead. All his property, however, was confiscated. A contemporary remarks that the Divine justice, no doubt, decreed that he should be imprisoned in that very chamber which he had stained with the blood of his brother-in-law Alfonso. All the adherents of the Borgia were filled with terror, expecting that the vials of the Pope’s wrath would be poured out upon them also. The Cardinals Remolino and Lodovico Borgia fled from Rome on the night of the 20th December.

The succeeding weeks were occupied with negotiations between Julius and Caesar, which, owing to the well-founded distrust which prevailed between the two parties, were extremely complicated. In the beginning of the new year the Pope began to think of possessing himself by force of Cesena.

On the 3rd of December, 1503, Machiavelli had said that Caesar was nearing the edge of the precipice. At this juncture an event occurred which at once immensely raised the prestige of the Duke’s friends, the Spanish Cardinals. On the 28th of December, Gonsalvo de Cordova obtained a complete victory over the French at Garigliano. On the first day of the new year Gaeta capitulated, and on the 4th the news reached Rome. The French had lost Naples.

Under the influence of this occurrence, on the 29th of January, 1504, the negotiations between Julius and Caesar were at last brought to a conclusion. It was agreed that the Duke was to surrender the Castles of Cesena, Forli, and Bertinoro to the Pope within forty days. When this condition was fulfilled, he would be free, but till then was to re­main at Ostia under the surveillance of Cardinal Carvajal; if he failed to carry out his agreement he was to be imprisoned for life.

On the evening of the 16th February, while the Carnival was being celebrated in Rome, Caesar Borgia, accompanied by only a few servants, embarked in a boat from the Ripa Grande, and was taken down to Ostia.

The negotiations for the surrender of Cesena, Bertinoro and Forli caused the Pope a great deal of vexation, and the Archbishop of Ragusa, Giovanni di Sirolo, was sent to the Romagna to hasten their conclusion.

The governors of Cesena and Bertinoro at first insisted on Caesar’s liberation. The Pope in a rage drove the bearers of this message out of his room; in the end, how­ever, he found himself compelled to come to terms with them. On the 10th of March, 1504, he concluded a new agreement with the Duke, by which Caesar bound himself to obtain the evacuation of Bertinoro and Cesena, and made himself responsible for a sum of money which the Castellan of Forli demanded as the price of his surrender. As soon as these conditions had been fulfilled, and Bertinoro and Cesena delivered over to the Pope, Carvajal allowed his prisoner to depart, on the 19th of April, without asking any further leave from Rome.

Caesar had already provided himself with a letter of safe conduct from Gonsalvo de Cordova, and hastened to Naples, to the house of his uncle, Lodovico Borgia. Here it soon became evident that he had by no means relinquished all hope of eventually recovering his possessions in the Romagna. Gonsalvo received the Duke with all due marks of respect, apparently entered into his plans, and even agreed to furnish him with troops. In this way he managed to keep his dangerous guest quiet until he had received instructions from King Ferdinand. Then, however, he acted promptly. On the 27th of May, 1504, Caesar was arrested and taken to the Castle of Ischia. The Spaniards announced that they intended to keep this firebrand in their own hands. So says the Spanish historian Zurita, and Guicciardini corroborates him. According to Jovius, Julius II had advised that Caesar should be imprisoned to prevent him from invading the Romagna. This is confirmed by documents in the Secret Archives of the Vatican. There is a letter there from Julius II to Gonsalvo de Cordova dated 11th May, 1504, in which the Pope requests the Spanish General to keep guard over the Duke, so as to hinder him from undertaking anything against the Church, and to induce him to give up the Castle of Forli.

On the same day Julius wrote a letter to Ferdinand and Isabella complaining of the conduct of both Carvajal and Gonsalvo; the former had let Caesar go free on his own responsibility and not in the manner agreed, the latter was allowing him to hatch plots against the Church in Naples. He accused the Duke himself of having sent money to the Castellan of Forli and encouraged him to go on holding the castle. This remarkable letter closes with a request that their majesties would not permit a person who was under their control to disturb the peace of the Church. In regard to Forli the appeal to Spain was effectual, and Julius II at last obtained possession of the fortress. Gonsalvo promised Caesar that he would release him if he would order the Castellan to hand it over to the Pope’s Lieutenant. Upon this the Duke yielded, and on the 10th of August the castle was given up. But now it was Gonsalvo’s turn to break his word; and instead of re­gaining his liberty, Caesar was sent off to Spain on the 20th of August.

From this moment Caesar Borgia vanishes from the stage of Italian history, and by the beginning of May most people in Rome seemed to have quite forgotten him. Ferdinand sent him first to the Castle of Chinchilla and then to that of Medina del Campo. Here the former lord of Rome, bereft by his political shipwreck of all his luxuries, was kept in close confinement in a room in the tower, with only one servant. No one was allowed to see him. “All his plans had failed, nothing remained of all that he had sought to achieve by his crimes, his cruelties, and his murders”. In this miserable life his only occupation consisted in flying his falcons, his only joy was to see them catch a helpless bird and tear it to pieces with their talons. In spite of the strict guard kept over him, on the 25th of October, 1506, Caesar succeeded in escaping from his prison and fled to his brother-in-law, Jean d’Albret, King of Navarre. Julius II was greatly disturbed when the news reached him, for he was well aware that the Duke still had many adherents in the Romagna. But his anxiety was not destined to last long, for on the 12th May, 1507, Caesar died “honourably, a soldier’s death ” at Viana in Navarre, fighting for his brother-in-law against the Count of Lerin. He was only in his thirty-second year. The greatness of the House of Borgia had come and gone like a meteor flashing across the sky.

There is no contemporaneous account of the effect produced on Julius II by the tidings of Caesar’s death; but he must have rejoiced to find himself relieved of an enemy who still could have been extremely dangerous to him and to the Church. Caesar had many faithful adherents in the cities of the Romagna, and he could never have felt quite secure there while the Duke still lived.

It is a curious coincidence that the man who, if Alexander VI had lived, would have done the most of all others to secularise the States of the Church, and with whom Machiavelli in consequence was secretly in full sympathy, should, unintentionally of course, have been the founder of the revival there of the Papal authority. Most people are familiar with Machiavelli’s opinion on this point expressed in the Prince, where he says: “The Duke by no means wished to exalt the Church. Nevertheless all that he did tended to her advantage; when he was gone, his heritage fell to her”. That this was the case was no doubt greatly due to the character of Julius II, who never for a moment lost sight of the one object that he had proposed to himself, and made use of every means that came to hand for attaining it. When, on the 11th August, 1504, the news of the surrender of Forli at last arrived, and he was asked whether orders were to be given for the public demonstrations of joy usual on such occasions, his reply was characteristic. “No,” answered the Pope, so the Florentine Ambassador reports, “we will put off all rejoicings until we have much more important and difficult successes to celebrate.” “Julius meant,” the Ambassador adds, “the reconquest of Faenza and Rimini.” The relations between Venice and Rome had from month to month been growing more and more unsatisfactory owing to the obstinate refusal of the Republic to give back these cities which had been taken by force from the Church. The conduct of the Venetians on this occasion shows that the invariably astute diplomacy of the Republic was utterly at fault in regard to the character of Julius II.

As Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere had always been friendly to Venice, and the Venetians, out of dread of a French Pope, had heartily supported him in the Conclave, they fully believed that he would in return leave them a free hand in the Romagna. This of course was an utter delusion, as from the first Julius was firmly determined not to permit the Church to be despoiled of a single rood of her possessions. He never for a moment gave the Republic any reason for doubting that he meant to insist on the restoration of the stolen property of the Church in the Romagna. Nevertheless the Venetians thought they could do as they liked and need not be afraid of a Pope who had neither money nor troops. “Ambition and greed of land” says the contemporaneous Venetian chronicler Priuli, “were so strong in them that they were resolved at any cost to make themselves masters of the whole of the Romagna”. When, on the 22nd of November, 1503, the news of the investment of Faenza arrived in Rome, the Pope at once sent for the Venetian Ambassador and repeated that all the Church’s possessions must come back to her, and that he hoped the Republic would not carry matters to extremes. Three days later the report was current in Rome that Rimini also was in the hands of the Venetians. The Ambassador was in despair, for his government had given stringent orders that this should be kept secret. “Thus, even before his Coronation, Julius saw two of the jewels with which he desired to adorn the Tiara snatched away by the Signoria”. On the 28th November, at a meeting of the Cardinals, he complained of the proceedings of the Venetians; on the 29th a Consistory was held. The Venetian Ambassador reports that the Pope spoke very angrily of the Republic in Consistory; he had previously told Cardinal Cornaro that he meant to appeal to France and Spain for the protection of the interests of the Holy See. In a conversation with the Venetian Ambassador on the 30th of November Julius spoke more gently, and dwelt on the friendly feelings he entertained towards the Republic; for he was well aware of his weakness, and for that reason most anxious for a close union with France. On the 10th of December he again remonstrated with the Ambassador against the proceedings of Venice in the Romagna. The tidings which came from Angelo Leonini, Bishop of Tivoli, who had been sent to Venice, only increased the Pope’s displeasure. Leonini was commissioned to demand the withdrawal of all the Venetian troops from the Romagna and that the Republic should desist from any further conquests from Caesar Borgia, as the whole of his possessions belonged to the Church. “The answer was far from satisfactory. Venice promised to make no further acquisitions in the Romagna, but she would not withdraw her troops.” She was determined to keep Faenza, Rimini, and all the other places on which she had so unjustly laid hands.

The Venetian Envoy Giustinian said everything he could to induce the Pope to see things in a different light. He proposed that the conquered territories should be bestowed on Venice as a fief. To this Julius II replied that the governorships in the Romagna had always been bestowed on captains who had deserved well of the Church, but not upon powerful chiefs; it was impossible to put Venice in this position, she would never let them out of her hands again. He would rather not be Pope at all than endure such a curtailment of the States of the Church at the very beginning of his reign. Giustinian made no answer to these sort of expressions, talked vaguely of false reports circulated by the enemies of the Republic, and avoided as far as possible all direct negotiations in regard to the evacuation of the conquered territories. He seems to have been possessed with the delusion that Venice had no cause to apprehend any serious resistance from the new Pope; and not in the least to have understood the character of the man with whom he was dealing. He was incapable of conceiving a Pope devoid of selfish ambition and really aiming at nothing but the exaltation of the Church, and had no suspicion of the dangers of the game that his Government was playing. On the contrary, he flattered himself that he could easily succeed in mollifying Julius II. with fair words and promises.

The Ferrarese Agent understood the situation far better. “The Pope,” he reports on the 25th November, 1503, “is far from satisfied with the way things are going in the Romagna; where he had hoped to see light, he finds nothing but darkness. I know his nature and am well assured that he will not submit patiently to this; though other people imagine that they will be able to deceive him”. Giustinian ought to have been able to see how impossible this would prove. When, on the 23rd of December, he again repeated his tale of slanderous reports set afloat by the enemies of Venice, the Pope replied, “My Lord Ambassador, you always bring me fair words, and the Signoria foul deeds. We have accurate information of all that goes on in the Romagna, and know how, one after another, places are being occupied that have hitherto always been under the direct rule of the Church; today we have heard that the Venetians are endeavouring to induce Cesena to submit to them, and have occupied Sant’ Arcangelo. Can we be expected to look quietly on when those who ought to be supporting us are daily robbing us? At present we have not the means to defend ourselves by arms and can only remonstrate; but we mean to turn to the Christian Powers for aid, and trust that God will protect us.”

The Ambassador had no answer to give except that this was unnecessary; if Cesena wished to put herself under Venetian rule it was because the government of the Republic was just and beneficent. As to Sant’ Arcangelo, the Pope had nothing to complain of, as that place was already in the hands of Venice before Leonini was sent.

Three days later Julius II again sent for Giustinian and said to him: “We have still to complain of the state of things in the Romagna. Letters arrive daily telling us of the intrigues of your agents in Cesena, Imola, and other places. Throughout the whole country efforts are being made to seduce the people from their obedience to the Church and persuade them to place themselves under the rule of Venice. Our worst enemy could not do more against us. When we ascended the Chair of S. Peter we did so with the full purpose of being a father to all as a Pope should be, and observing strict neutrality; but we now fear that we shall find ourselves forced to entertain other thoughts.”

The Ambassador tried to make the usual excuses for his government, but could not conceal in his report the fact that they were not accepted. It ends with the words: “Julius II requires that all the places that have been occupied in the Romagna shall be restored to him. Possibly events might occur which would induce him and the Sacred College to leave Faenza and Rimini in the hands of the Republic, but he will not consent to anything until all the other places are evacuated.”

On the 10th January, 1504, Julius addressed the following letter to the Doge :—

“To our beloved Son,—Greeting and apostolical benediction: Through Our Reverend brother the Bishop of Tivoli and by various letters We have announced to your Serene Highness Our firm resolution to demand the restoration of Our cities of Faenza and Rimini, together with their castles and the other places which your Highness has occupied since the death of Alexander VI; and We have repeatedly made the same demand to your Ambassador. Therefore We cannot sufficiently express Our surprise at not having yet received any definite answer. Since We now learn from the aforenamed Bishop, Our Envoy, that the subject is again to be laid before the Senate, it will be plain, We trust, to your own wisdom and that of the assembly, that it is not permissible to keep unlawful possession of that which belongs to the Holy Roman Church, and that We are bound to use all the means in Our power to obtain its restoration. From the beginning of Our reign it has been Our steadfast purpose to restore to the Church the territories of which she has been despoiled; to this We hold fast, and ever shall do so. If your Highness’s Ambassador or anyone else has written anything different to your Highness or held out any hopes that We shall come to an agreement on this point, he has written falsely; for it is Our duty not to permit such an injury to be done to God and to the dignity of Our position. We have always entertained a just love and esteem for your Highness and the Republic, in the belief that, especially during Our Pontificate, you would prove the defenders and not the usurpers of the rights of the Church. Now, since nothing shall induce Us to desist from demanding the restitution of these places, since God and our Saviour Jesus Christ, who has committed the care of His Church to Us, and Our office, impose this duty upon Us, We declare that anyone who writes or thinks otherwise, writes and thinks falsely. Therefore We again admonish your Highness with all paternal kindness, and command you in the name of the Lord to do freely and at once that which in justice you are bound to do.”

All was in vain; the Venetians were determined not to part with their spoils. Secure of their strength, they mocked at the Pope’s threats. Sooner or later, the battle would have to be fought out.

In Venice there were stormy passages of arms between the Papal Nuncio Leonini and the Doge. The French Envoy vainly tried to act as a peacemaker. In Rome Giustinian continued with his “courteous importunity” to press the Pope to bestow the unjustly gotten lands on Venice as a vicariate. The exasperation of Julius at this persistence increased from day to day, especially as he now thought he perceived that the Republic was beginning to aim at Forli also. The Doge in conversation with Leonini denied this, but admitted that the Venetians would never give up the territories that they had once occupied. They would sacrifice everything they had, sooner than do this. In Rome, Julius said plainly to the Venetian Ambassador that he would never rest till he got back his lost possessions, and as he was not strong enough to conquer them himself, he would seek for help abroad.

He kept his word; but he was well aware that, beset and unarmed as he was, there was great risk of finding himself under galling bondage to the allies whom he might call in against Venice. Still he trusted to be able to find means to escape, and he was convinced that there was no other way open. A State so powerful and unscrupulous as Venice could only be mastered by a coalition; and from the Spring of 1504 the Pope directed all his efforts to bringing this about. He addressed himself to Louis XII of France, and to Maximilian, as King of the Romans and Protector of the Church. On the 2nd of March, 1504, Mariano Bartolini of Perugia was sent to the German Court. The Nuncio was charged to urge Maximilian to help the Church against Venice, because it would be impossible for the Pope to refrain any longer from laying the Republic under ban. The instructions of the Nuncio in France, Carlo de Carretto, Marquess of Finale, dated 14th May, 1504, were of wider scope. He was to propose the formation of a League between France, Maximilian, and the Pope. In the early spring Cosimo de’ Pazzi, Bishop of Arezzo, had been sent to Spain, but his mission proved a total failure. Ferdinand refused to receive him on the ground that he was a Florentine and a partisan of France, so that Julius II was obliged to recall him in November, 15044 How unfriendly Ferdinand’s sentiments towards the Holy See were at that time, may be gathered from the fact that in the Spring of 1504 his representative in Rome made overtures to the Venetians for an alliance with them. Julius II also endeavoured to induce Hungary to put a strong pressure upon Venice to constrain her to give up her booty.

Meanwhile the missions to France and Germany had produced some good results. On the 22nd of September, 1504, an agreement directed against Venice had been concluded at Blois. In Rome, in November, it began to be said that the Pope was going to pronounce the censures of the Church on the Republic. It was quite true that he was fully determined to cut the claws of the Lion of S. Mark. On the 4th of December he put a long list of grievances before the Consistory, and remarked that, all else having failed, it would be necessary to have recourse to spiritual weapons.

Alarmed by the clouds which now seemed gathering on all sides, the Venetians at last made up their minds to give way to a certain extent. Hitherto they had “put off the Pope with words and nothing else,” now they endeavoured to conciliate him “by some concessions which were of real practical value”. Meanwhile it was of great advantage to them to have been able to procrastinate for so long. The agreement of Blois broke down, Spain was not to be won, Maximilian and Louis XII fell out with each other. In March 1505, Venice at last withdrew from several of the towns in the Romagna, amongst others from Sant’ Arcangelo, Montefior, Savignano, Tossignano, and Porto Cesenatico. The Duke of Urbino assured the Doge that the Republic would not be troubled any more about Rimini and Faenza. “No doubt,” says Sigismondo de’ Conti, “the Duke wished that this might be the case; but he had little knowledge of the mind of Julius II, who had no notion of relinquishing these places.”

In recompense for this act of partial restitution effected in March 1505, Julius now consented to receive the Venetian profession of obedience, but still only under protest (May 5, 1505). Hieronymus Donatus pronounced the oration; it was full of the usual extravagant phrases of the new style of oratory. The Pope’s reply was brief and formal.

The Venetian Envoys for the profession of obedience entered Rome with great pomp, and flattered themselves with the hope of persuading Julius to consent to the retention by the Republic of Faenza and Rimini, but had not the smallest success. “The Pope,” writes the Florentine Envoy, “holds fast to his rights, and every

one thinks that he will get them.”

CHAPTER III.

Subjugation of Perugia and Bologna.—Downfall of the Baglioni and Bentivogli.

JULIUS II was not so absorbed in his efforts to regain all that the Church had lost in the Romagna, as to neglect the equally necessary work of restoring her authority in the other provinces. In February 1504, he induced the Florentines to give back Citerna in the neighbourhood of Perugia, which they had occupied after the death of Alexander VI. In May of the following year Anticoli and Nepi were again brought under the immediate rule of the Church; but the reconstitution of the States of the Church could never be solidly effected until the feuds of the Roman Barons were appeased and their adhesion secured. This Julius II sought to accomplish by means of family alliances.

In November 1505, Niccolò della Rovere, a younger brother of Galeotto, was married to Laura Orsini, only daughter and heiress of Orso Orsini and Giulia Farnese. A month later the Mantuan Agent announces the approaching betrothal of Madonna Felice, natural daughter of Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, with the youthful Marcantonio Colonna, This project, however, as well as some others of the same nature, was given up. On the 24th of May, 1506, Felice was married to Giovanni Giordano, the head of the Orsini of Bracciano, in the Vice-Chancellor’s Palace. The Venetian Ambassador remarks on the contrast between the ways of Julius II and those of Alexander VI on this occasion. The wedding was privately celebrated, all public tokens of rejoicing being forbidden; the wedding festivities were deferred till the arrival of the young couple at Bracciano, where they spent their honeymoon. Felice’s dowry also was by no means a large one. Two months later, another alliance between the Colonna and Rovere families took place, in the marriage of Marcantonio Colonna to a niece of the Pope’s. Frascati was given to Marcantonio, together with Julius II’s former Palace of the SS. Apostoli. By these means Julius trusted that he had now secured the loyalty of the most powerful of the Roman families, and could turn his attention without danger from that quarter to the restoration of the authority of the Holy See in Bologna and Perugia.

Without any legal title, and simply by force of arms, the Baglioni had made themselves masters of Perugia, and the Bentivogli of Bologna; the only trace of the Pope's authority that still remained was an insignificant toll on the revenues of these two wealthy cities. In Bologna especially, which was the largest city but one of the States of the Church, and its bulwark on that side, all power was practically entirely in the hands of Giovanni Bentivoglio. His government, though not so bad as that of the licentious Giampaolo Baglione in Perugia, was anything but satisfactory. His haughty consort, and more especially his four sons, had made the name of Bentivoglio thoroughly detested in the city by their tyranny and violence. Numbers of exiles from Bologna and Perugia, who had taken refuge in Rome, were perpetually urging the Pope to intervene and deliver their cities from the tyrants who oppressed them. Julius II listened to all their representations, but took his time. He made his preparations quietly, collecting money and troops. At last, when a favourable turn in the political situation seemed to promise success, he resolved to make the attempt.

It was not till March 1506, that news first reached Venice that the Pope was seriously considering plans for bringing Perugia and Bologna back again under the direct government of the Church. At first this was not believed; but later accounts left no room to doubt its truth. It appeared that Julius II expected the co-operation of France, and counted on a neutral attitude on the part of the Republic. The Signoria did their best to dissuade him from this undertaking, repeatedly urging the danger that Maximilian might enter Italy, a possibility that had been already a good deal talked of. In Rome several of the Cardinals, and especially Caraffa, were against it but the Pope was not to be moved. It seemed to him that the favourable opportunity had now arrived for getting rid of the Bentivogli, who had given him much cause to complain of them when he was Bishop of Bologna. “Rome,” says Paris de Grassis, the Papal Master of Ceremonies, “was quiet, the preparations for war were completed. Julius II himself headed the expedition, accompanied by all his Court and nearly all the Cardinals; only such members of the Sacred College as were incapacitated by age or sickness were permitted to remain behind. The Legation of Rome was given to Cardinal S. Giorgio.”

In order to be prepared for all contingencies, Julius II had concluded alliances with Florence, Siena, Mantua, Ferrara, and Urbino. Still the expedition was “a bold undertaking, and would be a master-stroke if it succeeded. Now that the Papacy was hemmed in on the South by Spain in Naples, it was essential to provide for greater expansion cm the northern side; the fulcrum of politics for the States of the Church was pushed upwards into Central Italy; and Umbria, Tuscany, and the Romagna acquired a new importance for the Holy See.”

The hazards of the enterprise were increased by the attitude of Venice and France, from neither of whom could the Pope obtain any certain answer.

In France the difficulties came chiefly from Cardinal d’Amboise. Julius II had hoped to conciliate his former rival by making him, soon after his election, not only Legate of France, but also of Avignon and Venaissin; he trusted by this means to put an end to the perpetual wranglings between the vassals of the Papacy and those of France. But the conduct of d’Amboise as Legate was far from satisfactory; he embezzled the money that he had to collect, and took no pains to conceal that he wished and hoped to be the next Pope. Julius II was well aware of all this, but in his present position he could not afford to engage in an open conflict with the all-powerful minister, or his master. He continued, therefore, on friendly terms with both, and endeavoured to meet their wishes in everything, as far as he could. But it was not possible that this state of things should be of long duration. In the Summer of 1505 serious differences with France arose in connection with the allotment of the benefices which had been held by Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, and to these were added disputes about appointments to Bishoprics. The creation of Cardinals which took place on the 12th of December, 1505, in which the Ambassador of Louis, Robert Chaland, received the purple, gave rise to new misunderstandings. The King was extremely annoyed because the Archbishop of Auch and the Bishop of Bayeux had not also been admitted into the Sacred College. Alluding to the dangerous illness which he had had in the Spring he exclaimed, “In Italy they think I am dead; but I will show the Holy Father that I am still alive.” To revenge him­self, he confiscated the revenues of all benefices belonging to the Pope’s nominees in the Milanese. Julius II, whose position in the States of the Church was still very insecure, was obliged to control himself. He tried to conciliate the King, and on Christmas Day sent him a consecrated sword by the hands of Pierre le Filleul, Bishop of Sisteron. This accomplished diplomatist succeeded in establishing better relations between Rome and France. In matters concerning the Church, Louis XII gave in to the Pope, and in April 1505, negotiations commenced for obtaining the assistance of France in the expedition against Perugia and Bologna. The King began by endeavouring to persuade Julius to relinquish his plans, and tried, in June, to take advantage of the situation by requesting that two French prelates should be made Cardinals. The negotiations dragged on interminably, without any result, and the patience of the Pope was sorely tried. Venice reiterated her Warnings against the expedition in a menacing tone. At last the brave old Pontiff determined to try the effect of the accomplished fact. The step he took “furnished Machiavelli with a proof of his thesis, that what never could have been accomplished by ordinary means, is often achieved by precipitation and daring.” “The Pope,” writes the famous Florentine politician, “ knew that it was impossible for him to drive the Bentivogli out of Bologna without help from France and neutrality on the part of Venice. When he saw that he could get nothing from either but uncertain and evasive answers, he resolved to bring both to the point by giving them no time to deliberate. He started from Rome with as many soldiers as he could collect, sending word to the Venetians that they were not to interfere, and to the King of France that he must send troops to support him. Thus they had hardly any time to consider, and as it was plain that if they hesitated or refused the Pope would be extremely angry, they did what he wanted ; the King of France sent him help, and the Venetians remained neutral.”

In a Secret Consistory on the 17th August, 1506, Julius II after enumerating the crimes of Giovanni Bentivoglio, mentioned for the first time his intention of taking the field in person against him. On the 21st it was decided that the expedition should start from Rome on the 24th. On the following day Briefs were despatched to the allied Princes of Mantua and Urbino, desiring them to join the Papal army on its march. Eventually its departure was put off to the 26th.

To avoid the midday heat the start was made before sunrise. The Pope first heard a low Mass, and gave his parting blessing to the people at the Porta S. Maria Maggiore. He was accompanied by nine Cardinals and 500 fully armed knights, who, with their retainers, made up a much larger farce than the number mentioned. Their first halting-place was Formello, where the Pope was received by Giovanni Giordano Orsini and his wife. On the following day Julius went on to Nepi, where three more of the Cardinals joined him. The march was always begun before sunrise. On the 28th August they arrived at the little town of Civita Casteliana, which possesses a noble castle with which Julius was delighted. Here a halt was made on account of the Feast of S. John the Baptist; and Machiavelli, then Florentine Envoy, promised the support of his government towards the subjugation of Bologna. On the way from Nepi to Civita Casteliana good news had arrived from the French Court, which greatly rejoiced the Pope. On the other hand, he also heard that Giovanni Bentivoglio was determined to resist.

It was still quite dark when on Sunday, the 30th August, after hearing Mass, the Pope set off for Viterbo. At Fabrica refreshments were provided by Cardinal Girolamo Basso della Rovere. In the evening a solemn entry was made into Viterbo, which was decorated for the occasion. According to the usual custom the Blessed Sacrament was carried before the Pope, who was attended by seventeen Cardinals. During his stay in this place Julius II drew up further regulations for the maintenance of the reconciliation between the contending parties there which he had succeeded in effecting in the previous year. The Legation was given to Cardinal Leonardo Grosso della Rovere. At the same time the Archbishop of Siponto was despatched as Nuncio to Bologna with a stern message, and the Archbishop of Aix to Milan, to lead the French army of assist­ance against Castelfranco; the Pope also sent money for the hire of a troop of Swiss foot-soldiers.

On the 4th September Julius II hurried on to Montefiascone, where he inspected the castle and stopped for the midday meal. The house in which this was provided was in such a rickety condition that the floor had to be supported with props. With a playful allusion to the famous wine of the place, Julius II observed, “These are wise precautions lest we should fall through, and people might say we had had too much Montefiascone.” On the 5th he set off again for Orvieto, as usual two hours before sunrise. It was so dark, says Paris de Grassis, who accompanied the expedition as Grand-Master of Ceremonies, that nothing could be distinguished. A number of people had spent the night in the open air in hopes of seeing the Pope, who had to have torches carried before him. Orvieto gave him a festive reception. An oak tree, to correspond with the arms of his family, adorned the principal square. Instead of acorns, little boys dressed as angels were perched on the extremities of its branches and on its topmost boughs. Orpheus leant against the trunk and recited Latin verses in praise of the Pope, to which the angels responded in chorus. A girandola was lighted to greet him on his return from the Cathedral, whither he had gone to venerate the famous Corporal and give his blessing to the people. Here also an immense crowd from the neighbourhood had assembled to receive his blessing. The Duke of Urbino and Antonio Ferreri, the Legate of Perugia, arrived at Orvieto on the same day as the Pope. Both had been negotiating with Giampaolo Baglione, who had hesitated for some time as to whether, considering the strength of his citadel and the troops that he had with him, it might not be worthwhile to resist. But he had little confidence in the loyalty of the citizens, who, he knew, preferred the Papal government to his, and also feared the hostility of the Oddi party. He knew, too, the character of his adversary and that he was not one to do anything by halves. Hence he finally resolved to accept the conditions proposed by the Papal Envoys and to submit. He came himself to Orvieto and promised to hand over all the defences of Perugia and the fastnesses in the neighbourhood to the Papal commanders, to recall most of the exiles, to send his two sons to Urbino as hostages, and finally to join the expedition against Bologna with 150 men. On the 8th September he returned to Perugia, accompanied by the Legate and the Duke of Urbino, to prepare for the entry of the Pope.

On the following day Julius II left Orvieto. On his journey he received a letter from the Marquess of Mantua announcing that he would arrive at Perugia on the 12th of September and take part personally in the expedition against Bentivoglio. When they came to the little village of Castiglione on the Lake of Thrasimene, which contained neither accommodation nor food enough for the Pope’s retinue, to the dismay of his suite he announced his intention of remaining there some days. He did this, Paris de Grassis says, in order to give Baglione time to organise his men. But the commissariat at Castiglione presented such difficulties that on the nth Julius was obliged to move on across the lake to the Isola Maggiore, and thence to Passignano.

On the 12th they proceeded to Corciano. They were joined on the way thither by the Condottiere Giovanni Soffatelli with 700 men. At Corciano Cardinal Francois Guillaume Clermont arrived with a letter from Louis XII. about Bologna. It was soon known that he was charged with the hopeless task of trying to persuade Julius to give up his enterprise.

On Sunday, the 13th September, Julius made his entry into Perugia with great pomp. The eight Priors in gala dress met him at the Porta San Pietro with the keys of the city. All the bells were rung, the streets were thronged with people and decorated with triumphal arches. Twenty Cardinals, the Duke of Urbino, Giovanni Gonzaga, and many of the Roman Barons accompanied the Pope. He went first to the Cathedral, where the Papal choir sang the Te Deum, which was followed by the solemn Benediction of the people and the proclamation of an Indulgence. Julius II took up his abode in the Palace of the Priors. On the 17th, the Marquess Francesco Gonzaga arrived. Three days hater the Pope celebrated a solemn High Mass in the church of the Franciscans; he had commenced his studies in early youth as a poor scholar in this convent; now he wished to thank God and S. Francis for his elevation to the highest dignity in the world.

The Pope was so much inspirited by the success which had thus far attended his expedition that his thoughts soared now to higher flights. He began to talk of setting forth to deliver Constantinople and Jerusalem out of the hands of the unbelievers as soon as things had been set in order in Italy; not of course, however, until the Church had got back her States—that, he said emphatically, was an indispensable preliminary. He commanded the celebrated preacher Aegidius of Viterbo, of the Order of the Hermits of S. Augustine, to deliver a sermon on this subject while he and the Cardinals were at Perugia; and again later at Bologna he desired him to preach in a similar sense. In his review of the reign of Julius II. Aegidius says that it was generally thought that the Pope would have carried out this project if he had not been hindered by the blind­ness of men.

Julius remained eight days in the newly-won city. He spent this time in labouring earnestly to bestow on its unfortunate inhabitants the blessings of a settled peace. The baneful and detested rule of the Baglioni was at an end. From henceforth the beautiful city was again to enjoy its municipal liberties and republican constitution under the sovereignty of the Church. The exiles were allowed to return, with the exception of those only whose hands were stained with the blood of their fellow-citizens. The magistracy of the Ten was abolished. Julius left the old liber­ties untouched. Cardinal Antonio Ferreri was appointed Legate.

The ardent spirit of the Pope was too much occupied with Bologna to remain any longer in Perugia. On the 21st of September he started for Gubbio, which he reached on the 22nd; on the 23rd he was at Cantiano, and on the 25th entered Urbino, crossing the Appenines by the pass of Furlo. The gates were taken down by the Duke, while the Prefect presented the keys of the city to the Pope. Julius, from the artistic side of his nature, was charmed with the Palace of Montefeltro; but his mind was too full of the negotiations with Bologna and France to give much attention to anything else.

He had sent Antonio da Monte San Savino, Archbishop of Manfredonia, to Bologna to endeavour to arrange terms for its return to its allegiance to the Church, but Giovanni Bentivoglio had anticipated the Archbishop and completely frustrated his mission. At first, Sigismondo de’ Conti says, he had been disposed to submit, but the consciousness of his many misdeeds led him eventually to change his mind. He succeeded in cajoling the citizens into assuring the Papal Envoy that their Prince was no tyrant, but a true father to his people. All the Archbishop’s kindly admonitions proved unavailing, and when at last he threatened them with the censures of the Church, Bentivoglio and the magistrates appealed to a General Council.

The Pope had intended to await the result of the Arch­bishop’s mission at Urbino, but the moment he heard that he was on his way back, in spite of the dissuasions of the Duke and others, he determined to set out to meet him.

In the early morning of the 29th September he started for Macerata. The roads were mere bridle paths, the weather had broken, and the hills were covered with snow, so that it was not possible on the 30th to set out till after midday. The rain fell in torrents and the sumpter-mules stumbled and fell on the slippery paths, but the Pope struggled on with passionate haste towards San Marino. He halted for the night in the suburb of Borgo, and here a letter reached him from the King of France promising to send troops and announcing his intention of coming him­self in Advent to Bologna, where he hoped to meet the Pope. This set Julius II free from his greatest anxiety. The support of the French Government had been delayed as long as possible, but now that he was assured of this the fall of Bentivoglio was certain. There was nothing now to fear from Venice. Nevertheless, “he still felt it prudent to take pains to conciliate the Venetians”. He proposed to the Signoria to permit them still to retain Faenza and Rimini as a fief. Though this offer was refused, he still continued to treat the Republic with all possible consideration. “He strictly forbade his troops, in their necessary march through Venetian territory, under pain of death to take anything from the inhabitants, and emphatically assured their Envoy D. Pisani, that the Signoria had nothing to fear from him. He was most anxious not to afford the least shadow of excuse to Venice for her conduct”.

Instead of taking the high road from San Marino to Rimini Julius chose the more difficult mountain way, in order to avoid passing through the country occupied by the Venetians. On the 1st October he spent the night in the miserable little village of Savignano, and on the following day crossed the Rubicon and entered Cesena, where he took up his quarters for the night in the castle. Meanwhile the Bolognese Envoys had arrived. They besought him “not to throw a peaceful city, which was thoroughly loyal to the Church, into confusion by demanding novelties”. Julius answered, I know that what you are now saying is not what you really think; you cannot be so foolish as to prefer the rule of a cruel tyrant to mine”.

On the 5th of October a Consistory was held, at which there were twenty Cardinals present During the midday meal the news arrived that the French troops were on the road with sixteen cannon and would be at Modena on Saturday. The following day brought tidings of the death of King Philip of Castile. On the 7th October it was determined in a Secret Consistory that an Interdict should be laid on Bologna. A review of the troops took place in Cesena; the army consisted of 600 horsemen, 1600 foot­soldiers, and 300 Swiss.

The persistent rain had made the roads almost impassable; but Julius would brook no delay. Early on the 8th October he moved onwards from Cesena to Forlimpopoli, and on the following day to Forli. In entering the city, he and his suite had a taste of the wild character of the people of the Romagna, who forcibly possessed themselves of the Pope’s mule and baldacchino.

Meanwhile there could no longer be any doubt that Bentivoglio had no intention of relinquishing his usurped authority without a struggle. “He trusted in the strength of the city, the number of his adherents, his high position, and his stalwart sons.” According to Sigismondo de’ Conti, Bentivoglio demanded that the Pope should enter Bologna without troops, and make no change in anything. These pretensions so enraged Julius that he at once proclaimed the excommunication of Bentivoglio and an Interdict on Bologna unless the city returned to its obedience within nine days. On the 11th of October these Bulls were affixed to the doors of the Cathedral of Forli. The Bolognese were thoroughly frightened, says Sigismondo de’ Conti, but Bentivoglio was not yet subdued. He had sent large bribes to the French commanders, and in their greed of gain they tried for a time to play fast and loose between him and the Pope. Julius, however, threatened Louis that if he did not keep his word he would publish his faithlessness to the whole world; and at last the King commanded his generals to advance. The alarm produced by their approach in Bologna determined the Pope to begin his march from Forli; but instead of taking the easy road through the fertile country of the Aemilia, he chose for his own party the one which led across the mountains. This, Sigismondo de’ Conti says, was partly because he did not trust the Venetians, and partly because he could not endure to look upon Faenza, torn away from the Church as it now was. Thus, leaving the bulk of the army and the Cardinals to take the direct road by that place, he with a small retinue turned aside to the left towards Castrocaro, a place which had once belonged to the Church but was now in the hands of the Florentines. This was on the 17th October. Beyond Mutilano the road became extremely difficult; ten times it was crossed by a mountain torrent; in one place the Pope had to dismount and clamber up the steep ascent for a mile with the assistance of his servants. He was half-dead with fatigue when in the evening he arrived at the little village of Marradi in the valley of Lamone, but he only allowed himself a short night’s rest, and was off again before daybreak to Palazzuolo. There he halted for a light meal in the afternoon, and then hurried on to Tossignano, which he reached in the evening. This place belonged to the States of the Church; still he would not tarry, but went on at once to Imola.

Though the Pope was now sixty-four years of age, and suffering at the time from gout, he had borne the fatigues of the mountain journey as if he had been quite a young man. His attendants had to follow him whether they liked it or not. Paris de Grassis, the Master of Ceremonies, travelled by the easier road by Faenza, but before they parted Julius II made him hand over to him his costly cope, and his mitre and pectoral cross, “For fear,” he said, “they should be stolen by the Venetians or the people of Faenza.” When his followers were almost in despair at the difficulties of the road to Tossignano, the Pope smilingly quoted Virgil’s lines:

Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum,

Tendimus in Latium.

                                     —Aeneid., I., 204, 205.

In the little town of Imola, which they reached on the 20th October, and where they were received with festal honours, it was impossible to accommodate the whole of the Pope’s suite. In consequence, all the officials and many members of the Court remained at Castro Bolognese, and the army (2000 men) was encamped in the neighbouring country. The Duke of Urbino being laid up with an attack of gout, Francesco Gonzaga was appointed Commander-in-Chief on the 25th October. On the same day Julius received a visit from the Duke of Ferrara. On All Souls’ Day, just as the Pope was going to Mass, the tidings of the flight of Bentivoglio arrived. The tyrant now saw the impossibility of making a defence, as he had made himself utterly detested by his subjects. He therefore entered into a compact with the French Commander-in-Chief, Chaumont, and fled to Milan with a safe conduct from him. According to Sigismondo de’ Conti, as soon as the Interdict was laid upon Bologna, the citizens completely deserted him. One by one, all the priests left the city, and even his most trusted friends began to say that the Pope was in the right. But Bentivoglio still held out until he heard that Charles d’Amboise had actually arrived at Modena with an army of 600 lancers, 3000 horsemen, and a large number of guns.

The Bolognese now sent Envoys to the Pope, begging for the removal of the Interdict, and protection against the French army. The French troops were already under the walls, and the soldiers were hoping for a rich booty from the pillage of the city; they were encamped along the canal which conducts the water from the Rend into the city. The citizens had taken up arms to defend themselves, and had flooded the French camp by opening a sluice, which forced the enemy to retire, leaving their baggage and heavy artillery behind them. They were furious, and bent on vengeance; the city was only saved from being sacked by the prompt action of the Pope, who bought them off with a present of 8000 ducats to the generals and 10,000 to the soldiers. Thus the splendid reception, which was accorded to him when he entered Bologna, was well earned. The triumphal entry was to take place on the Feast of S. Martin.

But it was not in Julius II to endure such a long delay. “On the 10th of November,” says the Master of Ceremonies, “his Holiness commanded me to look for a suitable and safe residence for him within the city. This I found in the house which had formerly belonged to the Templars, which was only a stone’s throw from the gate, and the Pope took possession of it at once, bringing only a small number of his suite with him. He would not listen to the dissuasions of the astrologers, despising their science, and saying, ‘We will go in in the name of God.’ Meanwhile it became known in the city that the Pope was within its walls, and the ringing of bells and thunder of cannon soon announced the news to the whole country round.”

The triumphal procession to San Petronio, the Cathedral of Bologna, took place on the nth November in lovely summer-like weather; the roses were still in bloom. The pageant was of unusual magnificence, a perfect specimen of the festive art of the Renaissance. The Master of Ceremonies, Paris de Grassis, has described all its details in his own pedantic fashion; other contemporaries, such as the Venetian Envoy, Francesco Albertini, and the Bolognese chronicler Ghirardacci, have painted it in a broader style. Cardinal Adriano of Corneto celebrates it in a Latin poem. The Pope’s humanistic secretary, Sigismondo de’ Conti, gives a very good description of it in his great historical work. “Thirteen triumphal arches”, he says, “were erected, bearing the inscription in large letters: ‘Julius II, our Liberator and most beneficent Father! A hundred young noblemen formed a cordon to keep the people back. First came a number of horsemen as outriders to clear the way, then the light cavalry, the infantry in glistening armour, the baggage of the Pope and the Cardinals, and finally the bands of the regiments. These were followed by sixteen Bolognese and four Papal standard-bearers with their banners, the ten white palfreys of the Pope with golden bridles, and lastly the officials of the Court. Next to these came the Envoys, Duke Guido of Urbino, the Marquess Francesco Gonzaga, Francesco Maria, the Prefect of Rome, Costantino Areniti, the Duke of Achaia and Macedonia, fourteen lictors with silver staves to keep the crowd back, and the two Masters of Ceremonies, the first of whom, Paris de Grassis, was the organiser of the whole pageant. The Papal Cross was carried by Carlo Rotario; he was closely followed by forty of the clergy with lighted candles and the Papal choir accompanying the Sacred Host. The Cardinals walked immediately in front of Julius II, who was carried in the Sedia Gestatoria; his purple cope, shot with gold thread and fastened across the breast with the formale pretiosum set with emeralds and sapphires, was a splendid work of art. On his head he wore an unusually large mitre glistening with pearls and jewels. He was accompanied by his two private chamberlains, his secretary Sigismondo de’ Conti, and his physicians, the Roman Mariano dei Dossi, and the Sienese Arcangelo dei Tuti. He was followed by the Patriarchs, the Archbishops and Bishops, the Protonotary, the ecclesiastical Envoys, the Abbots and Generals of religious orders, the Penitentiaries and Referendaries. The whole procession was closed by a body of the Papal guard. It moved very slowly, owing to the immense concourse of spectators, all decked in holiday garb, who had come in from the country round to receive the Pope’s blessing. Gold and silver coins, struck for the occasion, were scattered by servants amongst them. At the Cathedral the Pope first made his act of thanksgiving and then solemnly blessed the people. It was dusk before he got back to the palace, now attended by the magistrates of the city, who joined the procession after it left the Cathedral.”

The work of reorganising the Government of the city was begun by Julius II as soon as possible after his arrival. “He was anxious to make the government of the Church popular at Bologna, and for this end he confirmed their ancient liberties and gave them a new constitution which left a large measure of autonomy to the municipality, and also considerably lightened the burden of taxation which had pressed on them so heavily of late.” The Council of Sixteen was abolished, and on the 17th of November a Senate, consisting of forty members, chosen for the most part from amongst the best burgher families of Bologna, was appointed in its place. This Senate was to act as the Legate’s Council, “but was granted far greater and more independent powers by Julius II than the city had ever enjoyed under the Bentivogli”; and he also diminished the taxes. “He wished to create a really free city which should be loyal to him out of gratitude for his protection”. On the 26th of November the anniversary of the Pope’s Coronation was celebrated with great pomp. On this occasion, by his special desire, his favourite nephew, Galeotto della Rovere, was the celebrant at the High Mass.

Louis XII and his minister d’Amboise demanded an exorbitant price for the assistance they had rendered. In addition to a large payment in money, they demanded the right of appointing to benefices throughout the Milanese territory, the confirmation of Cardinal d’Amboise’s Legation, and the nomination of three French Cardinals, all near relations of his. The last condition was the hardest for the Pope; for the Cardinals strongly objected to this increase of French influence in the Sacred College, with the consequent enhancement of d’Amboise’s prospect of some day obtaining the Tiara, and the danger of the Court being transferred to Avignon. This creation, the third in the reign of Julius II, took place on the 18th December, 1506, in a Secret Consistory and was not published at first. The three Cardinals were: Jean Francois de la Trémouille, Archbishop of Auch; René de Prie, Bishop of Bayeux; and Louis d’Amboise, Archbishop of Alby. They were not published until the 17th May, 1507, after the Pope’s return to Rome, and at the same time as the nomination of Cardinal Ximenes to the Sacred College.

In spite of these concessions sharp dissensions, principally on account of the affairs of Genoa, soon broke out between Louis and the Pope. “It was an open secret in Rome that d’Amboise was working to obtain the Tiara at any cost, while, on the other hand, at the Court of France every one said that the Pope was privately encouraging and even helping the Genoese in their resistance to Louis XII”. In the middle of February, 1507, the King said to the Florentine Envoy: “I have sent word to the Pope that if he takes up the cause of the Genoese I will put Giovanni Bentivoglio back in Bologna. I have only to write a single letter in order to effect this, and Bentivoglio will give me 100,000 ducats into the bargain. The Rovere are a peasant family: nothing but the stick at his back will keep the Pope in order.”

When there could no longer be any doubt that Louis XII was coming to Italy, Julius II felt that it would be better to leave Bologna and so avoid a meeting. The French King was collecting such a large army that it was impossible to think that its only employment was to be the reconquest of Genoa. The Pope apprehended that there might even be personal danger for him in remaining at Bologna, and therefore at last decided on returning to Rome, to the great satisfaction of his Court On the 12th of February, 1507, he informed the Cardinals in a Secret Consistory of his intention. The Bolognese were completely taken by surprise when they heard of this unexpected decision, and at first extremely dissatisfied, as the work of reorganising the affairs of the city was not by any means concluded. This feeling, however, was soon dissipated when they found that the Pope was prepared to confirm the liberties granted to the city by Nicholas V, and to divide the executive power between the Legate and the Council of Forty. Nevertheless he had so little confidence in the unruly citizens that he ordered a new fort to be built at the Porta Galiera. On the 20th of February he laid its first stone. The day before this he had appointed Antonio Ferreri, Legate of Bologna; an unfortunate selection, as soon appeared. Cardinal Leonardo Grosso della Rovere took Ferreri’s place in Perugia, and was succeeded in Viterbo by Francesco Alidosi.

On the 22nd February, 1507, as soon as the Bull appoint­ing the Council of Forty had been published, the Pope left the city to the great regret of the Bolognese, and on the same day the new Legate entered it.

Julius II stopped first at Imola to make further arrangements for the maintenance of peace in that city. He then proceeded to Forli and Cesena, again avoiding Faenza, visited Porto Cesenatico, Sant’ Arcangelo, and Urbino, and made his way back to Rome by Foligno, Montefalco, Orto, Viterbo, and Nepi. On the 27th of March, the Saturday before Palm Sunday, he reached the Tiber at Ponte Molle where he was welcomed by a crowd of people. He spent the night in the Convent of Santa Maria del Popolo. On Palm Sunday he celebrated High Mass in that church, and this was followed by his triumphal entry into the city and procession to the Vatican.

Rome had adorned herself for the occasion in that curious mixture of Christian and Pagan styles which characterised the taste of the period. The streets were pro­fusely decorated with hangings and garlands, and bristling with inscriptions in praise of the victor. Triumphal arches, covered with legends, were erected in all directions; some of these, as for instance the one put up by Cardinal Costa on the Campo Marzo, were also decorated with statues and pictures. Opposite the Castle of St. Angelo was a chariot with four white horses and containing ten genii with palms in their hands, welcoming the Pope; on the prow of the chariot a globe rested, from which sprang an oak bearing gilt acorns and rising to the height of the Church of Sta. Maria Traspontina. In front of the Vatican a copy of the Arch of Constantine was erected representing the whole history of the expedition. By order of the Legate, Cardinal S. Giorgio, an altar was prepared before every church along the route of the procession, attended by the clergy and choir, that the religious element might not be eclipsed by all the worldly pomp. An eyewitness says that this triumphal entry was even more magnificent than the coronation. Twenty-eight Cardinals accompanied the Pope, the procession took three hours to pass from the gate of the city to S. Peter’s. The Master of Ceremonies, Paris de Grassis, says that Julius knelt longer than was his wont at the tomb of the Apostles, and as he entered his apartment he said: “Since we have returned in safety, we all have indeed good cause to chant the Te Deum.”

In truth Julius II had achieved a great success. It was enthusiastically celebrated by the poets of the time. In his address in the Consistory, Cardinal Raffaele Riario said: “When your Holiness first announced your project of bringing Bologna back to a true obedience under the Holy See, the excellence of the object that you had in view was plain to us all. Hence we rejoice with our whole hearts now that this noble and glorious end is attained. The success of your Holiness has immensely increased the honour and consideration in which the Holy See is held, and covered your own name with a glory that will never perish. Your Holiness has deserved to be ranked among those illustrious Popes who, casting aside all personal considerations or family interests, proposed no other end to themselves but the care of preserving and augmenting the authority and majesty of the Holy See.”

CHAPTER IV.

Changes in the Political Situation in Europe between 1507 and 1509.—Julius II. threatened by Spain and France.—The Venetians seek to Humiliate the Papacy both Ecclesiastically and Politically. — Resistance of Julius II. — League of Cambrai and War against Venice.—The Pope’s Victory.

The rapid subjugation of two such important cities as Bologna and Perugia to the government of the Church had immensely enhanced the prestige of Julius II in the eyes of his contemporaries; but he had no notion of resting on his laurels, knowing how far he still was from the goal which, from the first moment of his elevation, he had proposed to himself. The “largest and by far the most difficult portion of his task, the wresting from Venice of the towns and territories belonging to the States of the Church which she had appropriated, lay still before him.”

The settlement of the year 1505 was of such a nature as, in the words of one of Julius II’s bitterest opponents, to set a seal on the helpless condition of the Papacy. Even a less energetic ruler than this Pope would have been driven to strive for the evacuation of the Romagna.

But meanwhile other events occurred which forced all Julius II’s plans for repelling the usurpations of the Venetians into the background. He found himself seriously threatened by both France and Spain.

The first dispute between the Pope and King Ferdinand of Spain arose out of the suzerainty of the Holy See over Naples and the feudal dues; to this, others were soon added by the encroachments of the King on the right of the Church in the appointments to Bishoprics in Castile. The tension produced by their differences went on increasing, although on the 17th May, 1507, Julius had bestowed the Red-hat on the King’s trusted minister Ximenes, the distinguished Archbishop of Toledo, who was also an ardent advocate of reform. When, in June, 1507, Ferdinand was on his way from Naples to Savona, Julius hastened to Ostia in hopes of obtaining an interview; but the King discourteously sailed past Ostia without stopping. At Savona, towards the end of June, he met Louis XII, and there a reconciliation between the two Kings took place.

The disproportionate strength of the army sent by the French King to quell the rebellion in Genoa made the understanding between the two great powers appear all the more ominous for the Pope, since it seemed to point to some further design. Another remarkable thing was the number of Cardinals at his Court First, there were the three French Cardinals (including d’Amboise), then the Cardinal d’Aragona, who had been on the French side ever since the death of Alexander VI, and Cardinal Sanseverino, who afterwards lapsed into schism. In May 1507, Julius II had sent Cardinal Antonio Pallavicino, a Genoese, to the King’s camp and he too was now in Savona. The object of this Legation, according to Sigismondo de’ Conti, was to persuade Louis to deal leniently with the Genoese, and to disband his army. The magnitude of the French force had aroused alarm in Germany as well as in Italy, as we see from the resolutions of the Diet of Constance.

According to the statements made by Pallavicino to the Florentine Envoy in Savona, his instructions were, first, to defend the Pope against the false accusation of having invited Maximilian to invade Italy, and here, it seems, he was successful. In the second place, he was to ask that the Bentivogli should be delivered over to Julius II, and here he failed. Louis XII denied that Giovanni and Alessandro Bentivoglio were implicated in the plot against Bologna; and said he could not in honour give them up. From expressions let fall by one of the Cardinals who was present it appeared that Pallavicino had several long conversations with Louis XII and d’Amboise, in the course of which he met with but scant courtesy, especially from the latter.

In connection with the meeting of the Kings at Savona, some things soon transpired which led the Pope to apprehend that an attack on his spiritual power was contemplated. Ferdinand himself admitted that the reform of the Church had been discussed. It is also certain that here again, as formerly, he encouraged d’Amboise in his aspirations after the Tiara.

Guicciardini says that Julius II, in his extreme need, turned for help to Maximilian. This is not confirmed by any recent investigations. “On the contrary, it is demonstrable that the primary object of his policy was to effect a reconciliation between Maximilian and Louis XII and to unite their forces against Venice. From the end of the year 1506 Costantino Areniti had been working by his orders in this direction.”

The Pope’s anxiety in regard to Maximilian’s proposed visit to Rome is a clear proof how far he then was from thinking of applying to him for assistance. When in the Summer of 1507 it was announced on all sides that Maximilian was certainly coming to Italy, Julius resolved to send a Cardinal as Legate to Germany. He selected a man who was one of Maximilian’s most faithful friends at the Roman Court, Cardinal Bernardino Carvajal. Furnished with ample powers, the Cardinal left Rome on the 5th of August, 1507, and passing through Siena met the King at Innsbruck in the middle of September.

Carvajal was charged to endeavour to dissuade the King from coming to Italy with an army, and to propose instead that he should be crowned Emperor in Germany by two Cardinals who would be sent for this purpose. Besides this, he was to make two other propositions to the King, one for a universal League amongst all Christian Princes against the Turks, and the other for a special alliance between him and the Pope against Venice. The first proposal was rejected but the second was accepted. This success, however, was of little use to Julius II as long as Maximilian persisted in rejecting all overtures for a reconciliation with France. Carvajal, however, remained with the King, and did not relinquish his purpose. When he found that the Venetians obstinately persisted in refusing to allow him to pass through their territory on his way to Rome, Maximilian began to lend a more favourable ear to the persuasions of the Legate. “In February, 1508, he made secret overtures for an offensive and defensive alliance against Venice to the Court of France, which corresponded in all essentials with the future League of Cambrai.”

At this time Maximilian did a thing which was com­pletely at variance with all previous mediaeval custom. On the 4th February, 1508, through his counsellor Matthaeus Lang, Bishop of Gurk, he solemnly proclaimed in the Cathedral of Trent that he had assumed the title of “Emperor-elect of Rome”. He took pains to explain, however, in a letter to the Empire, and by his Envoys at Rome, that this proceeding was not in any way intended to contravene the Pope’s rights in regard to his Coronation. On the contrary, he was as determined as ever to come to Rome to be crowned there by Julius II as soon as he had conquered the Venetians. The explanation thus given, safe-guarding the right of the Holy See, enabled Julius II to declare himself perfectly satisfied, as in fact he had reason to be, with an act which, at any rate, put off for a time the dreaded visit to Rome. On the 12th of February, 1508, he addressed a Brief to “Maximilian, Emperor-elect of Rome,” in which he recognised and praised the correctness of his attitude towards the Holy See, and added that, as the Church already prayed for him on Good Friday as Roman Emperor, he was fully justified in assuming the title. The remaining contents of this Brief lead us to infer that the Pope’s affability was not quite unmotived. It impressed upon Maximilian the expediency of coming to terms with France, and of making his visit to Rome without the accompaniment of an army.

On the day after his proclamation, Maximilian commenced hostilities against Venice, and his troops at first achieved some successes. On the 1st of March he wrote in the highest spirits to the Elector of Saxony: “The Venetians portray their Lion with two feet in the sea, one on the plain country, and one on the mountains. We have all but conquered the foot on the mountains; one claw only holds fast, which will be ours, with the help of God, in a week. Then we hope to tackle the one on the plain.” But in a very short time the tables were turned. Supported to the great annoyance of Julius II, by the French, the Venetians carried everything before them. The victorious army overran Tivoli and Istria; in May they conquered Trieste and Fiume, and by the beginning of June they had penetrated into Carniola. On the 5th June the Emperor was only too glad to conclude, through Carvajal’s mediation a truce for three years, which left to Venice nearly everything that her arms had won. The Venetians, quite unaware of the dangers of the path they were treading, were full of joy and triumph.

The land-hunger of the Republic is described by Machiavelli in his verses:

San Marco impetuoso, ed importuno,

Credendosi aver sempre il vento in poppa,

Non si curò di rovinare ognuno;

Ne’ vide come la potenza troppa

Era nociva : e come il me’ sarebbe

Tener sott’ acqua la coda e la groppa.

                                    Asino d Oro.

In consequence of this “land-hunger”, by this time there was hardly one of the great powers which had not something to demand back from the Republic, and this it was which brought about her ruin. Greedily anxious to come to terms with the Emperor, the Venetians, in their haste, had taken no heed of the interests of their ally. This produced a complete revolution in the policy of France.

Towards the close of November, Maximilian’s confidential counsellor Matthaeus Lang, one English and one Spanish Ambassador, Louis XII’s all-powerful minister d’Amboise, and the Emperor’s daughter Margaret met together at Cambrai.

On the 10th of December, 1508, the compact known as the League of Cambrai was here concluded. The only portion of it that was destined for publication was the treaty of peace between the Emperor and the King of France, which, among other things, bestowed Milan as a fief on Louis XII and his descendants. The object of the League was ostensibly the Crusade against the Turks; but before this could be commenced Venice must be constrained to give back her spoils. A second and secret treaty, to which the Pope and the King of Spain might be parties if they chose, was drawn up, binding the contracting powers to oblige the Republic to restore all the cities of the Romagna to the Pope; the Apulian sea-board to the King of Spain; Roveredo, Verona, Padua, Vicenza, Treviso, and Friuli to the Emperor; and Brescia, Bergamo, Cremo, Cremona, Chiara d’Adda, and all fiefs belonging to Milan to the King of France. If the King of Hungary joined the League he was to get back all his former possessions in Dalmatia and Croatia; equally the Duke of Savoy was to recover Cyprus, and the Duke of Ferrara and the Marquess of Mantua all the territories wrested from them by the Venetians if they too joined the League. France was to declare war on the 1st of April, the Pope was to lay the ban of the Church and an Interdict on Venice, and to call on Maximilian, as the lieutenant of the Holy See, to come to his assistance. Thus, at the end of the forty days, the Emperor would be released from his treaty obligations towards the Republic, and able to join the French.

Even down to the present day Julius II continues to be blamed in unmeasured terms for having brought the foreigner into Italy. As a matter of fact at this decisive moment the Pope held back, and “it was Venice herself who drove him into joining the League, which he cordially disliked, angry as he was with the Republic. He knew France and her King well, and thoroughly mistrusted both, and this feeling was amply reciprocated by Louis XII and d’Amboise, even while the League of Cambrai, in which no Papal plenipotentiary took part, was being negotiated.”

Julius II did not join the League till the 23rd March, 1509, after he had exhausted all other means of inducing Venice to acknowledge his temporal and spiritual authority. In her dealings with Rome the foresight and penetration which usually characterised the policy of the Republic seemed to have completely forsaken her; she appeared not to have the faintest presentiment of the storm which her high-handed conduct was conspiring to raise up against her.

It was not only in her policy in the Romagna that Venice persistently trampled on the clear rights of the Pope. Following her traditional practice she arrogated to the State in purely spiritual matters a supremacy which would have made the government of the Church by Rome an impossibility. The Government repeatedly forbade and even punished appeals to Rome in ecclesiastical matters; ecclesiastical persons were brought before secular tribunals without the permission of the Pope; for this the deplorable corruption of many of the clergy might have afforded some excuse. But there could be no justification for the conduct of the Senate in giving away benefices and even Bishoprics on their own authority. Even staunch friends of the Republic blamed these outrageous violations of Canon-law, which no Pope could afford to tolerate. The consequence was a never ending series of misunderstandings and disputes on ecclesiastical matters between Rome and Venice. One of the most serious of these was that about the appointment to the Bishopric of Cremona, which had been held by Ascanio Sforza. After his death, in the Summer of 1505, the Senate immediately selected a devoted adherent of their own, a member of the Trevisano family. Julius II refused to confirm this appointment, as he had intended to give it to the excellent Cardinal Galeotto della Rovere. The Venetians maintained that it had always been customary for the Senate to elect the Bishops for all the important cities in their dominions and for Rome to confirm their choice, as if the Holy See was bound in all cases to accept their nominations. The negotiations on this subject dragged on for two whole years, until at last Julius II yielded, a sum of money being handed over to the Cardinal as compensation. This dispute had hardly been settled when a new and more violent one arose over the Bishopric of Vicenza, rendered vacant by the death of Cardinal Galeotto della Rovere. Julius II had given Vicenza, to­gether with all the other benefices which had been held by the deceased Cardinal, to Sixtus Gara della Rovere, while the Venetian Senate determined to appoint Jacopo Dandolo. In spite of the Pope’s refusal to confirm his nomination, Dandolo took possession of the See and had the insolence to style himself “Bishop-elect of Vicenza by the grace of the Senate of Venice”. He answered the Pope’s citation with a defiant letter, knowing that he had the support of the Republic.

It will be seen that the Venetians were steadily pursuing their aim of making the Pope, as Machiavelli puts it, “their chaplain”, while Julius II as resolutely resisted. He told the Venetian Ambassador that if necessary he would sell his mitre rather than relinquish any of the rights that appertained to the successor of S. Peter.

Side by side with these incessant ecclesiastical difficulties the political ones still remained unaltered. Julius II did everything he could to bring about an amicable solution. Towards the end of the year 1506 he sent the celebrated Augustinian Aegidius of Viterbo to Venice to offer, if the Venetians would give up Faenza, to say no more about their other conquests. But this proposal was also rejected. Then, replied the Pope, since the Venetians refuse my request for one city only, they shall now be obliged by force of arms to give back all they have taken. He took no pains to hide his indignation from the Venetian Ambassador. The Republic, however, still persisted not only in defying the Pope but in irritating him as well.

In the insolence of their triumph after the defeat of Maximilian, the Signoria went out of its way to make troubles in Bologna, the place of all others about which Julius would be most sensitive

The position of the Legate there was a difficult one, as the Bentivogli, favoured by France, never ceased conspiring against the Government Ferreri kept them down with an iron hand, and, in addition to this, behaved in so greedy and extortionate a manner to the Bolognese, that they appealed to Rome against his exactions. Julius II had enquiries made, and finding that the Legate was in fault, at once acted with his wonted energy. On the 2nd of August, 1507, Ferreri, on whom larger powers had been conferred in the previous month of May, was deprived of his post and recalled to Rome. Meanwhile the discovery had been made that Ferreri had employed illegitimate means to obtain the increase of his powers in May, and in consequence he was imprisoned in the Castle of St. Angelo, and afterwards interned in the Convent of S. Onofrio (he died in 1508).

The government of Bologna was then carried on by the Vice-Legate Lorenzo Fiesco, while the Bentivogli continued to prosecute their intrigues. In September it was discovered that they had been plotting to have the Pope poisoned. Julius II sent the documentary evidence of this conspiracy by Achilles de Grassis to Louis XII, begging him to withdraw his protection from this family. On the 20th of September he sent 5000 ducats to the Bolognese to help them to defend themselves against the Bentivogli. In the beginning of 1508 one of the family made a fresh attempt to get possession of the city. Julius burst into a violent rage when he heard the news.

He failed, but tried again in the Autumn of the same year. Meanwhile Cardinal Alidosi had been made Legate of Bologna. Alidosi’s ruthless severity had caused great irritation in Bologna of which the Bentivogli sought to take advantage; but their main hopes were founded on the support of Venice. However, they were again unsuccessful. Julius II indignantly remonstrated with the Venetian Government for harbouring in their territory the rebels whom Louis XII had expelled from Milan, and “looking on with folded arms while these men endeavoured to undermine the Papal authority in Bologna and made war upon the Church”. The Venetians’ answer sounded like a gibe. They said that, far from harbouring the refugees, they had done their best to get rid of them; but they hid. themselves in the convents, and the Republic, of course, was powerless against the Church’s right of asylum. To do away with this pretext the Pope on the 22nd August despatched a Brief to the Patriarch of Venice, desiring him to issue strict orders to all the convents in Venetian territory to refuse shelter to all bandits and rebels; all such evil-doers must be driven from the gates.

In spite of all that had happened, even now, at the last hour, an accommodation between Rome and Venice might still have been possible if the Republic had not obstinately persisted in all her most unreasonable demands. In the Autumn of 1508, when the alienation of France had already definitely begun, and the anti-Venetian League was under consideration, the Pope still held aloof. The selfish aims of France and the ever increasing concessions that she demanded were no doubt the cause of this.

It was far from desirable in the eyes of Julius II that the power of the King of France should increase, or that the Emperor should obtain a footing in Italy. He would have gladly come to terms with Venice if she would have withdrawn her unjust pretensions in both temporal and spiritual affairs. Bembo says that the Pope privately sent Costantino Areniti to Badoer, the Venetian Ambassador in Rome, to tell him of the formation of the League of Cambrai, and to propose an arrangement if Venice would restore Faenza and Rimini to the Church. Badoer at once wrote to inform the Council of Ten, but received no answer. The whole influence of the numerous class of needy nobles whose interests were involved in keeping the conquests in the Romagna was against their resti­tution, and this prevailed. The Venetians trusted that a League composed of such heterogeneous elements would not last long.

This view was conceivable; but the infatuation of Venice in still continuing at this critical juncture to flout and irritate the Pope in every possible manner in spiritual as well as in temporal matters, is truly incomprehensible. “Those even who are friendly to Venice blame her insolent and domineering behaviour towards the Holy See, not only in regard to the cities of the Romagna, to which she has not the smallest right, but also in matters concerning benefices and ecclesiastical jurisdiction.”

The manner in which the testy Venetian Envoy Pisani answered Julius II’s complaints on these subjects is something quite unique in the whole history of diplomacy. When the Pope protested to Pisani against the encroach­ments of the Republic on his ecclesiastical rights, and added that the Signoria would some day have cause to repent of their conduct, the Envoy replied: “Your Holiness must grow a little stronger before he can expect much from the Republic”. Naturally incensed, Julius answered, “I will never rest until you are brought down to be the poor fishermen that you once were”. “And we”, said Pisani, “will make a priestling of the Holy Father unless he behaves himself”.

Such was the manner in which the Venetian Envoy thought fit to behave towards the Pontiff in whose power it lay to have stifled the League of Cambrai at its birth. Even yet the Pope did not permit himself to be goaded into any hasty action. He still hoped to succeed in “alarming the Venetians enough to induce them to comply with his demands”, and then to break up the dangerous League. Pisani fully realised the Pope’s apprehension in regard to Louis XII and Maximilian, and saw clearly that greater forbearance on his part might have prevented Julius from joining the League. Yet he continued to behave as before.

When in February, 1509, the question of the Bishopric of Vicenza had reached the point at which a definite answer could no longer be deferred, that which the Pope received sounded like a sarcasm. “The contemptuous insolence of the language employed by the Venetians requires to be known in order fully to understand the injustice of those who reproach Julius II with his participation in the League of Cambrai. It was not until every means of persuasion had been tried, and the last hope of an amicable settlement had vanished, that he made up his mind to join it.”

The change in the Pope’s mind was probably finally caused by the fear lest France should unite with Venice to overpower him. His decision was taken soon after a conversation which he had with Pisani in the middle of March at Civita Vecchia. It was a lovely spring day; all nature seemed to breathe nothing but peace and harmony, and the clear blue sea was like a sheet of glass. The Pope, who was very fond of sailing, was on the water, accompanied by Pisani, and turning to the Envoy, “How would it be,” he said, “if you were to advise the Signoria to propose to me to grant Faenza and Rimini as a fief to one of your citizens? That would set everything right.” Pisani answered coldly, “Our State is not in the habit of making kings of any of her citizens.” The Pope’s proposal was never mentioned either to Pisani’s gentler colleague, Badoer, or to the Senate. Immediately after his return from Civita Vecchia, Julius joined the League.

On the 22nd of March a Consistory was held, to which the Venetian Cardinals Grimani and Cornaro were not summoned. On the following day Julius II signed the Bull announcing his adhesion to the League, but with the condition that he was to do nothing against Venice until after hostilities had been commenced by France. Meanwhile the Venetians had begun to see that they had been premature in their hopes that the League would dissolve itself. On the 4th of April they determined to give up Faenza and Rimini, but this offer, which was made to the Pope on the 7th, came too late; to have accepted it now would have involved him in a war with the allies. The adherents of the Republic in Rome now allied themselves with the Colonna and Orsini, and tried to induce them to rise against the Pope by offers of money to both, and by promising Urbino to the Colonna. When Julius heard this, he threatened to excommunicate the Orsini, and sent word to Pisani, who had been stirring them up to revolt against the Church under his very eyes, that he would thrust him into the deepest dungeon in Rome. The situation appeared so menacing that the Palace guard was doubled. Meanwhile Felice Orsini succeeded in breaking off the bargain between Venice and the family.

On the 27th of April the greater excommunication was pronounced against Venice unless within twenty-four days all the possessions of the Church in the Romagna, and the revenues derived from them, were restored to her. This document was drawn up in the clearest and strongest terms, describing the outrageous proceedings of the Republic in both temporal and spiritual affairs, and 600 copies were at once printed and circulated. The Venetians forbade the publication of the Bull in their dominions under stringent penalties. They had already prepared an appeal to a future Council. This was now posted during the night on S. Peter’s and the Castle of St. Angelo; the Pope had it torn down at once. The appeal was sent in the beginning of May to the ambitious Cardinal Archbishop of Gran and Patriarch of Constantinople, Thomas Bakocs, as one of those Princes of the Church who was entitled under the old, though now obsolete, constitutions to join in the sum­moning of a General Council. The Hungarian Primate was, however, too prudent to respond to this invitation.

Meanwhile the war had been begun by the members of the League, which was now joined by Ferrara and Mantua. The Venetians had, at an enormous cost, got together an army of 50,000 men, a large force for those times; their war-cry was “Italy and Liberty!”. The Republic bent herself bravely to the task of resisting the enemy, overmatched as she was; but the traditional pride of her citizens high and low sustained her. The ban of the Church, it was maintained, had lost much of its power; it was no longer so dangerous as it used to be. Ferdinand of Spain had been forced to join the League against his will; the Emperor had no money; the Pope’s mercenaries were of no account; the League was too numerous, the interests of its various members were too divergent for it to hold together for long; the Republic would ride safely through the storm this time, as she had ever done.

But one day sufficed to annihilate all the proud hopes of the Venetians, and nearly all their power upon the mainland. The decisive battle was fought on the 14th of May on the plain of Agnadello near Vailate in the province of Cremona; it ended in the complete rout of their army. The undisciplined mercenaries of the Republic were scattered like chaff. While the French pursued the fugitives, the Papal troops, under the Duke of Urbino, overran the Romagna. All the country up to Verona, including that strongly fortified city itself, was subdued; town after town fell into the hands of the conquerors.

The Venetians now no longer scorned the Pope’s ex­communication. A contemporary writer compares the battle of Agnadello with the defeat of the Romans at Cannae. The position of Venice was rendered still more critical by the blow which the recent development of maritime enterprise had inflicted upon her commerce. If in this particular the disadvantages with which they had to contend were not of their own making, so much cannot be said of the causes which mainly contributed to bring about their discomfiture on the mainland. Machiavelli’s penetrating glance discerned, and has described, these with admirable insight and clearness. He takes as the text for his criticism the saying of Livy, that the Romans were never depressed by misfortune or elevated by success. “The exact reverse of this,” he writes, “was the case with the Venetians. They imagined that they owed their prosperity to qualities which, in fact, they did not possess, and were so puffed up that they treated the King of France as a son, underrated the power of the Church, thought the whole of Italy too small a field for their ambition, and aimed at creating a worldwide empire like that of Rome. Then when fortune turned her back upon them, and they were beaten by the French at Vailate, they not only lost the greater part of their territory by the defection of their people, but, of their own accord, out of sheer cowardice and faint-heartedness, they gave back most of their conquests to the Pope and the King of Spain. In their discourage­ment they even went so far as, through their Envoy, to offer to become tributaries of the Emperor, and to try to move the Pope to compassion by writing to him in a tone of craven submissiveness. This reverse befell them when the war had only lasted four days, and the battle itself was only half-lost; for only half their troops were engaged and one of their Proveditori escaped. Thus, if there had been a spark of energy or enterprise in Venice, they might have marched on Verona with 25,000 men to try their fortune again, and await any favourable turn that might give them a chance of victory, or at any rate of a less ignoble defeat, and of obtaining honourable terms; but by their unwarlike spirit, the natural result of the absence of all military organisation, they lost both heart and land at a single throw. The like fate will befall all such as behave them­selves as they have done, for this arrogance in prosperity, and cowardice in adversity, are the effect of the spirit in which a man lives and the education he has received. If these are vain and frivolous he will be the same; if the reverse, the man will be of a different stamp, and will know enough of the world not to be overelated when good befalls him, or too much cast down when he meets with reverses. And what holds good in regard to individuals also holds good in regard to those many individuals who live together in the same Republic; they will attain to that measure of perfection which the life of the State, as a whole, has attained. It has often been said before, that the chief support of all States consists in a strong army, and that no system of laws and no constitution can be called good which does not provide for this, but I do not think it superfluous to repeat it; for all history proves its truth, and shews also that no army can be strong that is not well disciplined, and that it is impossible to secure good discipline unless the State is defended by her own subjects.” The Venetian aristocracy had purposely abstained from giving military training to the people; they expected to conquer Italy with hired troops”.

The first thing which the Venetian Government did when the news of their defeat at Agnadello arrived, was to evacuate all the places which they had occupied in the Romagna. Ravenna, Cervia, Rimini, Faenza, and several smaller places were at once handed over to the Legate of the Romagna and the Marches to Cardinal Francesco Alidosi. The cities on the Apulian coast were also restored to the Spaniards. They were anxious beyond everything else to win the Pope, and now wrote in the humblest and most submissive terms. On the 5th of June the Doge wrote an appealing letter to Julius II, “The hand that struck,” he said, “could heal if it would.” At the same time, six Envoys were sent to Rome to sue for peace. Being excommunicated, they could only enter the city at night. After all that had happened, they were not likely to find men’s minds in Rome very favourably disposed towards them. “If the rebellious children who, a few weeks before, had been insultingly defying the Pope to his face, and now came to proffer obedience only under the stress of extreme need, asked to be received at once with open arms, the request could only be deemed diplo­matically permissible because the person to whom it was addressed was the Holy Father”.

On the 8th of July one of the Envoys, Girolamo Donato, whom the Pope had known in former days, was personally absolved from excommunication and granted an audience. Julius, deeply incensed at the appeal of the Venetians to a General Council which had just been published, proposed crushing conditions. The Republic must make complete restitution of all her spoils, she must give up Treviso and Udine to the Emperor. “She must renounce her possessions on the mainland, and all pretensions to interfere in matters connected with benefices, or to impose taxes on the clergy. She must equally renounce her claim to exclusive rights of navigation in the Adriatic, which from Ravenna to Fiume she had hitherto regarded as a Venetian lake. When she had agreed to these things he would begin to speak of absolution. The Senate was furious when these demands were communicated to it. The Doge exclaimed that “he would rather send fifty Envoys to Constantinople to beg for help from thence, than comply with them”. In fact the Sultan was asked whether the Republic might count upon his assistance.

Just at this time events on the scene of the war began to take a more favourable turn for the Venetians. Padua was recovered on the 17th of July, and a month later news came to Rome that they had captured the Marquess of Mantua. The Pope was deeply moved with vexation, and gave passionate vent to his feelings. When, later in the Autumn, they had also been successful in repelling Maximilian’s attack on Padua, their old arrogance began to revive. It was decided to break off the negotiations with Julius. “All the Venetian Envoys, with the exception of Donato, who was still to remain at the Court, were recalled. When the Pope heard of this (Cardinal Grimani applied on the 5th November for permission for departure of the five to leave Rome), he exclaimed: All the six may go home; if the Republic wants to be released from the ban, she must send twelve.” Such and similar things were said in moments of excitement; in calmer seasons, Julius must have said to himself that it would be necessary to come to terms with the Republic; Louis XII. and Maximilian could not be allowed to carry the war to a point that would involve her destruction. If Venice were annihilated, not only the freedom of Italy, but also the independence of the Holy See would fall with her. The enormous preponderance which the course of recent events had conferred on the King of France showed that it was absolutely necessary that the Republic should be rehabilitated. Louis XII was absolute master of Northern Italy, Ferrara and Florence were his allies, he was sure of the Emperor, and the King of Spain having got what he wanted from the League, would be satisfied now to stand aside and let things take their course.

Just about that time, in the month of October, the King of France had made the Pope painfully sensible of his power by obliging him by force to give way in a dispute about a Bishopric. In addition to these considerations, Julius was at heart an Italian patriot, and keenly felt, from this point of view, the disgrace of foreign domination. Hence he was bent on a reconciliation with Venice, and all the efforts of the new French Ambassador, Alberto Pio, Count of Carpi, and of the French Cardinals to hold him back were unavailing. After a long struggle with difficulties of the most various kinds, the peace negotiations were at last brought to a successful issue on the 15th February, 1510. Venice withdrew her appeal to a Council, admitted the right of the Pope to pronounce ecclesiastical censures, the immunity of the clergy from taxation, and the jurisdiction of the ecclesiastical courts, recognised the liberty of the Church in regard to appointments to benefices, renounced all pretensions to interfere in the affairs of Ferrara, and granted free navigation in the Adriatic to all the Pope’s subjects and to the Ferrarese; she also repudiated all treaties concluded with towns belonging to the Pope, and promised not to afford protection to rebels against the Church, and to restore all goods that had been wrested from religious associations.

The solemn absolution of the representatives of Venice, shorn of most of the customary humiliating adjuncts, took place in the Court of S. Peter’s on the 24th February. The Pope himself held the Gospel, the Envoys laid their hands on it and swore to observe all the conditions of the treaty. In Rome demonstrations of joy were universal, and in Venice also public thanksgivings were celebrated; but on the 15th February the Council of Ten had secretly drawn up a protest against the conditions of the absolution, declaring them null because the Republic had been driven by force to sign them.

The Venetians, however, found means to revenge them­selves on the Pope who had so humbled them and had forced them to yield on all the important points. They began to disseminate pamphlets and libels against Julius II. The first of these, in the form of letter from Christ to the Pope, was still couched in fairly temperate language it mourned the horrors of the war, as if Julius, in merely demanding what was, by every title, simply his own from Venice, was responsible for these.

CHAPTER V.

Wars of Julius II to secure the Independence of the Holy See and to deliver Italy from the French.— Alliance with the Swiss, and War with Ferrara.—Schism in the College of Cardinals.—Sickness of the Pope and ' Perilous Situation in Bologna.—His Winter Campaign against Mirandola.—Loss of Bologna. — Attempts of Louis XII. and Maximilian I. to create a Schism.—Pseudo­Council at Pisa and General Council in Rome.

The Peace concluded by Julius II with Venice, consequent on the danger to the independence of the Holy See and the freedom of Italy caused by the increasing preponderance of France in the Peninsula, brought the Pope at once into collision with Louis XII and Maximilian I, who both desired the complete ruin of the Republic. The estrangement between him and these two powers was further intensified by his determination to resist all their efforts to increase their possessions in Italy. He now addressed himself with characteristic energy to the second great task of his Pontificate: that of shaking off the yoke of France which pressed so heavily on the Holy See and on his native land, and driving the foreigner, “the barbarians,” out of Italy. “His great soul was filled with plans for the welfare of his country.”

The difficulties and dangers of the undertaking were plain enough. Julius had understood from the first that it would be no easy task to lay the spirits which he had invoked in his time of need. His thoughts were perpetually occupied in devising ways and means for freeing Italy from the French; he knew well enough both the strength of France and her love of glory. He saw her influence paramount in Florence and Ferrara, Milan subjugated, a new fortress erected in the midst of his own Genoa to hold her down, Venice humbled to the dust at a single stroke. “Had he not cause enough to tremble for the See of Rome, which certainly could not be saved if Italy were subdued?”

From the first moment that Julius II recognised the necessity of breaking the power of France in Italy, he gave his whole mind to the task with the inflexible will and indomitable courage that characterised him and all his actions; it was not in his nature to hesitate or delay. Thus in the eyes of Italian patriots he is the hero of his century.

From the outset Julius had one great advantage over his opponent in the swiftness with which he saw and resolved upon the measures to be adopted. On one day Louis XII would break out into violent diatribes against the Pope, who, in the words of the French Cardinal, had plunged a dagger into his heart by making peace with Venice, and on the next he would again talk of a reconciliation with Rome. On the 25th May, 1510, Cardinal d’Amboise, Louis’ ablest councillor and the most dangerous enemy of Julius, whom he was burning to supersede, died. The effect of his death was greatly to increase the vacillations of the French King.

For Julius this event was a fresh incentive to pursue with redoubled energy the noble aim “which it is his greatest glory to have succeeded in achieving even partially.” The first necessity was to find coadjutors interested like himself in checking the predominance of France in Italy. The Pope sent out feelers in all directions and entered into relations with Maximilian, with Henry VIII of England, with the King of Spain, and with the Swiss. He met with many bitter disappointments. The negotiations with Germany and England failed completely. He had counted on securing the open support of the King of Spain by bestowing on him in the beginning of July, 1510, the investiture of Naples without any regard to the claims of the Valois, but here, too, he was unsuccessful at first On the other hand, he was successful in obtaining the help of the Swiss. Here Louis XII’s want of tact in his conduct towards the Swiss Federation came to his assistance, and also the exertions of the Swiss Bishop of Sitten, Matthaeus Schinner, who had always been a determined opponent of the French policy. This remarkable prelate had great influence over his fellow countrymen on account of his blameless life and his strictness in all ecclesiastical matters. He was a man of immense energy, one of the greatest his country has ever produced. “His eloquence stirred all hearts in a wonderful way”. His love for the Church and her visible head was the mainspring of his life, which was in great part devoted to persevering efforts to enlist the whole martial spirit and power of his nation in her defence. He always disliked the French; in the year 1501 he preached with such vigour and effect against France that those who belonged to that party tried to have him silenced. He was penetrated with the old mediaeval idea of the two swords: the spiritual sword wielded by the Pope, Christ’s Vicar on earth, and the temporal by the Head of the Holy Roman Empire, the protector of the Church. Thus he considered that it was the first duty of Switzerland, and would be the path of glory for her, to stand by the Emperor in defending the Roman Church against France, whose predominance in Italy was a permanent danger to the freedom and independence of the Holy See.

Julius II quickly recognised the valuable qualities of the Swiss prelate, and on the 10th September, 1508, made him a Cardinal, though his proclamation was deferred for the present. The Swiss had withdrawn from the League with France in the Summer of 1509, and now Julius turned to Schinner for assistance. In the close of that year the Bishop, not without personal risk, hastened to Rome to arrange the details of an agreement between the Pope and the Swiss Federation. In February, 1510, as Papal Legate, he laid the proposals of Julius II before his countrymen at Schwyz, and then at Lucerne on the same day. His enthralling eloquence overcame all objections. On the 14th of March, 1510, the district of Wallis and all the twelve Cantons ratified a treaty for five years with the Pope. “The Federation undertook the defence of the Church and of the Holy See. They promised, whenever the Pope should require their help, to furnish 6000 men to meet the foe, provided they were not themselves engaged in war. Further, for the term of their agreement they engaged not to ally themselves with any third power without the Pope’s permission, nor to supply any other power with troops. The Pope on his part bound himself to consult the interests of the Federation in any treaties of peace or alliances that he might make, to defend them with his spiritual weapons against their enemies, to pay to each Canton and to Wallis a yearly sum of 1000 florins, 6 francs monthly to each soldier in the army, and twice that sum to each officer”.

Trusting to his alliance with the Swiss and to the support of Venice, Julius II. made no secret of his intention of going to war with France. “These French,” he said on the 19th June to the Venetian Ambassador, “are trying to reduce me to be nothing but their King’s Chaplain : but I mean to be Pope, as they will find out to their discomfiture.” He spoke in similar terms to the Florentine Envoy. Cardinal Clermont, who attempted against the Pope’s wishes on the 29th June to escape to France, was arrested and taken to the Castle of St Angelo. Other Cardinals who were, as Julius II. knew, secretly working on the French side, were threatened with a similar fate. When the Cardinals Briçonnet, Louis d’Amboise, de Prie, and Sanseverino interceded with the Pope for his release, he told them to their faces that it looked as if they too wished to be provided with lodgings in St. Angelo.

At the same moment Louis XII attacked the Pope in his spiritualities by reviving a considerable number of the provisions of the Pragmatic Sanction, especially those relating to benefices. In the beginning of July a sharp exchange of high words took place between Julius and the French Ambassador. Carpi remonstrated with the Pope on his intention of helping the Genoese to shake off the yoke of France, which he said was a line of conduct on the part of Julius that his King had not deserved. The Pope replied, “I look upon your King as my personal enemy, and do not wish to hear anything more.” The Ambassador was shown to the door and Julius refused to hear any further explanation. The rupture with Louis XII. was now definitive. The Venetian Envoy writes that “the French in Rome stole about looking like corpses.”

The Pope’s plan was to attack the French in Italy on all sides at once; in Genoa, Verona, Milan, and Ferrara, The Venetians were to throw themselves on Verona, the Swiss to invade Milan, the Fregosi in Genoa, supported by Papal and Venetian troops, were to rise against France, and Francesco Maria della Rovere, also in combination with Venice, was to march against Duke Alfonso of Ferrara.

Julius II was especially exasperated against the Duke of Ferrara, who had thrown himself completely into the arms of France and continued to harass Venice in spite of the Pope’s repeated commands. The Prince was not only his own feudatory vassal, but was also bound to him by ties of gratitude for quite recent services. During the past Winter he had restored Comacchio to Alfonso, and prevented the Venetians from attacking him. Now, protected by Louis XII, in defiance of that monarch’s treaty with Julius II, the Duke went on with the war against Venice, and did everything in his power to injure the Holy See. He harried the inhabitants of the States of the Church, ignored the Pope’s authority even in ecclesiastical matters, and persisted in working the salt marshes of Comacchio to the detriment of the Papal monopoly at Cervia, asserting that he held this town in fief from the Emperor and not from the Holy See. All the Pope’s demands were either “evaded or met by a direct refusal or an evasion; Alfonso was determined not to obey him”. Finally Julius II commenced legal proceedings against his insubordinate vassal. A Bull of 9th August excommunicates Alfonso as a rebel against the Church, and declares him to have forfeited all his dignities and fiefs. In it he is severely blamed for his adhesion to Cardinal d’Amboise, who, it says, was plotting to obtain the Tiara during the lifetime of the lawful Pope, and sowed dissension between France and Rome.

The Pope’s attempt to wrest Genoa from France was violently resented by Louis XII. Machiavelli, who was then an Envoy at the French Court, describes the exasperation of the King and his courtiers. “As regards the Pope,” he writes from Blois on the 21st July, “ you can imagine what is said of him; obedience is to be renounced and a Council hung upon his neck. The complete annihilation of his power, both temporal and spiritual, is the least of the penalties with which he is to be visited. Louis is determined to vindicate his honour even if he loses everything he possesses in Italy.” Machiavelli gratified his hatred of Popes by fanning the flame with all his might He advised the King to set the Roman Barons on Julius; he would then be fully occupied at home and have to let the King of France alone.

Fortunately for the Pope, Louis did not follow this advice, but resolved to attack his enemy just where he was invincible—in his purely spiritual power. This Pope, who was such an obstacle to French domination in Italy, was to be hurled from his throne by means of a Synod creating an ecclesiastical revolution. Thus, “the great tournament of the European powers was transferred from the field of battle and the realm of diplomacy to that of the life of the Church”.

On the 30th of July, Louis XII issued a summons to all the Bishops in his kingdom to send representatives of their Dioceses in September to Orleans, there to meet together and hold a consultation on the liberties and privileges of the Gallican Church. By a royal ordinance of 16th August, 1510, all French subjects were forbidden to visit the Court of Rome. The Assembly met at the appointed time, not, however, at Orleans but at Tours, whither Louis also betook himself, forbidding the Papal Nuncio Leonini to follow him. The French Court-Bishops answered the questions set before them in the sense desired by their master. The Pope did wrong in making war on any Prince who was not one of his vassals, and such a Prince had a right to defend himself with arms, and even to invade the States of the Church if necessary, and to withdraw his kingdom from its obedience to such a Pope. The term at which the renunciation of obedience should take place must be decided by ancient custom and the provisions of the Pragmatic Sanction, founded on the decrees of the Council of Basle. It was further declared that a King when thus attacked had a right to protect his allies against the Pope, and to hold all his censures as null and void. At the same time it was agreed that before taking any farther steps the Gallican Church should send Envoys to the Pope to warn him not to proceed in his present conduct, and to demand a General Council. When this had been done, they would have a right to take other measures. Finally they granted a considerable subsidy to the King for the prosecution of the war in Italy. On that point Louis XII’s plans were of a very extensive character. “He intended to create a new heaven and a new earth in Italy”. He proposed to lead an army to Rome and himself depose the Pope. “But his mood varied from day to day; one day he seemed quite determined to begin at once, the next he shrank back alarmed at some apprehended danger, or at the expenses of the war. The Ferrarese Envoy complained that he changed his mind every morning. He allowed the precious time in which action was possible to slip away, while he amused himself with the fatuous contemplation of the power which he possessed, but did not know how to use”. Finally he decided upon waiting till the Spring, and till he could be sure of Maximilian and Henry VIII.

Not so Julius II. He knew nothing of fear or irresolution, and difficulties only roused him to greater exertions. His character corresponded curiously with his family crest, which was the unbending oak,—the resolution which he now formed was in complete harmony with his fearless and eager temperament. Though he was far from well he determined to accompany his army in the campaign against Ferrara, the most advanced outpost of the French in Italy, and thus hold his untrustworthy and irresolute generals to their work. By superintending the whole enterprise in person he hoped “to decide everything himself, and get his decisions promptly carried out, and to be again as successful as when he had boldly taken his own line against the Bentivogli, and refused to be intimidated by any warnings or prognostications of evil. He had no presentiment that he was going forth to meet one of the most terrible trials of his whole life.”

The Pope’s irritation with Louis XII increased from day to day. He began to talk of excommunicating the King, and the Cardinals of the French party were threatened with the severest penalties if they took any part in the calling of an anti-Papal Council. Cardinal Clermont was kept in strict confinement in St. Angelo, and Cardinal de Prie only escaped the same fate by swearing, at the Consistory of 18th August, not to leave Rome; if he did, he would at once be deprived of his cardinalate. These severe measures seemed to be rendered necessary by the conduct of Cardinal d’Este, who, though summoned on the 27th July, with all the other absent Cardinals belonging to the Court, to return to Rome, had not come back. On the 17th of August the Pope went down to Ostia and thence to CivitaVecchia, where he inspected the ships destined for Genoa, and celebrated the conquest of Modena. All the Cardinals, with the exception of the aged Caraffa, were summoned to join him at Viterbo, but Briçonnet and de Prie took no notice of the command. From Viterbo Julius went to Montefiascone, and started from thence for Bologna with 400 men on the 1st September, making his way to Ancona through Orvieto, Assisi, Foligno, Tolentino, and Loreto, where he said Mass on the Feast of the Nativity of the Blessed Virgin (8th September).

At this place some attempts were made by Cardinal Fiesco and Lionello da Carpi to persuade him to enter into diplomatic relations with France, but were angrily repulsed. From Ancona, Julius II proceeded to Rimini by water, and thence pressed on to Cesena by the ancient Via Emilia, in spite of the rain which poured down like a waterspout. Paris de Grassis, who travelled with the Pope, says, “When the people saw our train toiling along in such weather, they burst out laughing, instead of greeting the Pope as they ought to have done. Although the following day was just as bad, he insisted on going on to Forli, whither the rain perseveringly accompanied us.” Here they only spent the night, and then proceeded at once to Bologna, which they entered on the 22nd of September. Everywhere along the road ample provision was made by the inhabitants for the wants of the Pope and his people; at his desire all remains of food were distributed to the convents and the poor.

Even during the course of his hurried journey, tidings had reached Julius which filled him with anxiety; he heard from Verona that the expedition against Genoa seemed likely to break down. In Bologna itself he found great dissatisfaction with Alidosi’s government. He was already suffering from fever, and found it hard to bear up against all these cares; but anything in the way of better news revived him at once, and his resolution never failed for a moment, not even when there could no longer be any doubt that the King of France meant to summon a Council, and the Swiss, after having come as far as Chiasso, yielding to French and imperial intrigues, suddenly turned back and gave up the campaign. But still worse news was yet to come. On the 30th September he had made the Marquess of Mantua Standard-bearer to the Churchy and on the 14th October had excommunicated the French general. Now, on the 17th, tidings arrived from Florence that the Cardinals Carvajal, Francesco Borgia, Briçonnet, René de Prie, and Sanseverino, instead of obeying the Pope’s command to join him at Bologna, had betaken themselves to the camp of the enemy in Milan. For various reasons these men were all dissatisfied with Julius II.and his policy. They cared for nothing but their own aggrandisement, and hoped to secure that by helping the King of France to depose the Pope, whom he rightly considered the chief obstacle to the establishment of his supremacy in Italy. “Thus a schism in the Sacred College was added to Louis’ threatened Council”. Julius had long been mistrustful of the French Cardinals; but it was a terrible blow to him when the two Spaniards, especially Carvajal, who was so highly thought of, went over to the French; nevertheless he still by no means lost heart.

At this critical moment, when nothing but the greatest prudence could have saved him, the Pope committed a fatal error in allowing himself to be completely deceived by Cardinal Alidosi. This worldly and greedy prelate was accused by his enemies of the worst vices—whether justly or not we have no means of determining. He had cruelly oppressed the Bolognese and was suspected of conspiring with the French. In consequence, the Duke of Urbino had him arrested as a traitor and carried in chains from Modena to Bologna on the 7th of October. The Bolognese now hoped that their hated tyrant would pay for his misdeeds with his life. But in his very first conversation he contrived, by insinuating manners and plausibility, so to get round the Pope that not only was he at once released, but very shortly after, on the 18th October, made Bishop of Bologna. The citizens, irritated to the highest degree, were preparing to give vent to their anger, when suddenly the French army under the command of the excommuni­cated Chaumont appeared at the gates of the city, which was inadequately garrisoned with only 900 men. With the French were the Bentivogli, thirsting for revenge. The people now, says Paris de Grassis, took up arms, not to defend the Legate or the Pope, but their own liberty. Alidosi thought of nothing but his personal safety, and said openly that he was arming his people not against the French but to protect himself against the Bolognese.

To make matters worse and add to the general confusion, Julius II now broke down under the long continued strain, and, as the astrologers had predicted, fell seriously ill of fever; so seriously that negotiations for the supposed impending election were set on foot. Now at last for a moment his indomitable spirit seemed to falter. On the 19th of October he sent for the Venetian Ambassador and told him that if the troops of the Republic had not crossed the Po within twenty-four hours, he would come to terms with Chaumont. The Ambassador relates how, on the following night, tossing on his sleepless bed, he declared in his feverish wanderings that he would rather kill himself than fall into the hands of the French. With the dawn of the 20th October the fever subsided, and the sick man recovered his self-command with a celerity which shows the extraordinary elasticity of his temperament. When he heard that the armed citizens were calling his name he sprang from his bed and had himself carried out on one of the balconies of the palace, from whence he gave his blessing to the people, whose temper, owing to a variety of circumstances, had undergone a favourable change during the preceding days.

Paris de Grassis, as an eyewitness, narrates how Julius, after having blessed the people, crossed his arms upon his breast, as though confiding his person to their honour and care. The action met with a sympathetic response, and a shout went up from the crowd with a promise to stand up against the fee as one man. “Now,” exclaimed the Pope, as they carried him back to his bed, “we have conquered the French.”

The hopes of Julius II were justified by the conduct of the French commander, who, instead of pressing forward at once, began to negotiate, and thus gave time for the Venetian and Spanish troops to arrive. Soon the French army, encamped on the Reno three miles from the city, began to suffer severely from want of provisions and the inclemency of the weather, and was forced to retire to Castelfranco. Julius, who had broken off his negotiations with Chaumont, was now anxious that his troops should sally forth and fall upon the French, who were retiring slowly, plundering as they went. His vexation at not being able to get this done was so great that it brought on a dangerous relapse on the 24th. Again the worst began to be feared, but again also his iron constitution was victorious. In two days he began to improve, and by the end of the fourth day the danger was over. His recovery, however, was retarded by his obstinacy in refusing to spare himself in any way or to follow the advice of his physicians. In consequence, he had many relapses. “The Pope's constitution,” writes the Venetian Ambassador on the 25th November, “is marvellous; if he would only take care of himself he would soon be able to get up.”

Far from attending to his health, the mind of the Pope was occupied day and night with his plans for subduing Ferrara and driving back the French. He caused a circular letter to all the Christian Princes of Europe to be drawn up, in which he accused Louis XII of thirsting for the blood of the Roman Pope and sending his army to Bologna to destroy him. He declared that until Ferrara had capitulated he would listen to no more overtures. He urged the Venetians with redoubled energy to join their forces to his and at once commence the siege of that city. But his impatience was doomed to disappointment. The union of the two armies took place in due course, but the combined forces waited in vain for the Marquess of Mantua. At the same time the Venetian fleet met with a reverse. Julius II had on the 11th December appointed Cardinal Marco Vigerio, Legate of the Papal troops; eight days after, news came of the conquest of Concordia. His Master of Ceremonies reports that on the 15th December he had so far recovered as to be able to leave the house of his friend, Giulio Malvezzi, where he had been staying since the 6th November, and return to his own palace. Externally he was very much altered in appearance, as during his illness he had grown a long beard. At Christmas he was able to say Mass, but only in his private chapel and sitting. On S. Stephen’s Day he wished to attend’ the High Mass at the Cathedral, but heavy snow and a slight return of fever obliged him to give up his intention. It can therefore be imagined what the amazement of his Court must have been when he informed them on the 29th of December that he intended to join the army before Mirandola, in order to see why his troops were putting off their attack in spite of his repeated commands. Although every one, the Cardinals, the Prelates, the Bolognese, and, at first, even the Venetian Envoys, did their utmost to dissuade him, they could not alter his determination; he was convinced that nothing but his presence in person could defeat the machinations of those who were hindering the progress of the campaign.

On the 2nd of January, 1511, the world was called upon to witness the strange spectacle of a Pope, regardless of his dignity, his advanced age, his health, and the rigours of an unusually severe Winter, setting forth to join his army in their camp before Mirandola. Amongst those who accompanied him were the Cardinals Isvalies, d’Aragona, and Cornaro, and the famous architect Bramante. The Venetian Envoy, Girolamo Lippomano, who had attached himself to the Papal train, gives utterance in his Reports to the universal astonishment. “Julius II,” he writes on the 6th January, “has appeared, contrary to all expectation. He hates the French worse than ever. Apparently he has quite recovered; he goes about in all the wind and weather, and watches the clearing away of the snow from his balcony; he has the strength of a giant Yesterday and today the snow has been falling without intermission, and is half the height of a horse, and yet the Pope is in the camp. Our Republic is being splendidly served. His Court, who have no heart for Italy, and think of nothing but their money, are dying to get back to Rome; but they are quite helpless; Julius II.thinks, dreams, and talks to satiety of nothing but Mirandola.” In a Report on the following day he says, “Today the Pope reviewed the troops in the snow. His spirit and courage are marvellous, but he is not supported by his people”. The consciousness of this sometimes angered him almost to madness, and he would storm and rave at his generals for their tardiness.

At first Julius II had taken up his abode in a farm­house; when the batteries opened fire, he withdrew to Concordia, but his impatience soon became so great that in a few days he returned to take up his quarters in the Convent of Sta Giustina, which was quite close to the battery and nearer to the fortress than the farm-house. His Court were lost in wonder: “His Holiness lives in the kitchen of the Convent” writes the Venetian Paolo Capello on the 13th January, “and I inhabit an open stable that anywhere else would not be thought fit even for a servant; but here it is so much prized that Cardinals Cornaro and d’Aragona have been asking for it. The weather is detestable; today we have a furious snow storm, and yet the Pope has gone out. His health and spirit are super­human, nothing seems to hurt him.” The Venetian Envoy Lippomano said to Cardinal Alidosi, who was also in the camp, “It ought to be recorded in all histories that a Pope, only just out of his sick-bed, has taken the field himself in January and in the midst of such snow and cold. The rivers are all frozen; it is Winter with a vengeance.” A report of the 17th January states that on that day a cannon-ball had entered the room where the Pope was lying asleep, and had wounded two of his servants. After this Julius moved into the house of Cardinal Isvalies. But here too he found that shots were occasional visitors, and so, in spite of the remonstrances of his people, he returned to his former quarters. “The Pope displays extraordinary courage,” writes the Venetian Envoy. “He is burning with impatience to march on Ferrara.” The long sustained resistance of the defenders of Mirandola so enraged Julius that he rated his own generals in violent terms, and talked of giving the town over to pillage. When at last, on the 20th of January, it capitulated, his people succeeded in persuading him to grant milder terms. He was in such a hurry to set foot in his new conquest that he would not wait to have the gates unbarred, but clambered in through the breach on a wooden ladder. On the following day he declared that he would at once proceed to Ferrara, and appointed Count Gianfrancesco Pico, Lieutenant of the conquered fortress.

His personal experience of the difficulties which he would have to encounter in subduing Ferrara induced Julius to enter into communication with Alfonso in order to persuade him to abandon his alliance with France. He also endeavoured to detach Maximilian from Louis XII, by handing Modena over to the imperial commander. The Duke of Ferrara let the Pope know through an indirect channel that he would not treat with him, and so the war had to go on.

For a time Julius still clung to his purpose of personally pursuing the campaign; but the representations of his Court, and his dread of being taken prisoner by the French, induced him for the present to return to Bologna until he could collect a larger army. When he found that his return to Bologna (on the 6th-7th February) had at once encouraged the French to advance again, he proceeded on the nth by Imola to Ravenna in order to attack Ferrara from that side. In Ravenna, which he reached on the 18th of February, the Pope on the 10th of March created several new Cardinals, “to strengthen himself against the schismatics and to fulfil his engagements to certain powers.” Two of those nominated were ultramontanes, the Englishman Bainbridge and the Swiss Bishop, Matthaeus Schinner, the other six were Italians: Antonio Ciochi di Monte Sansovino, Archbishop of Liponto; Pietro Accoli of Arezzo, Bishop of Ancona ; Achilles de Grassis of Bologna; Francesco Argentino of Venice; Bandinello Sauli of Genoa; and Alfonso Petrucci of Siena.

The College of Cardinals had strenuously resisted these fresh nominations, but, as the Venetian Envoy had predicted, Julius carried his point The same Envoy says that some of the new Cardinals had to pay large sums for their eleva­tion. The nomination of de Grassis was obviously made to please the Bolognese ; the English Cardinal Bainbridge was appointed Commander-in-Chief of the troops, which caused great surprise.

Besides these eight Cardinals another was nominated, but reserved in petto. This was Maximilian’s confidant, Matthaeus Lang, Bishop of Gurk, who just at this time had arrived in Mantua, where the Envoys from England, France, and Spain were also present He brought proposals of peace from his master.

Julius II wished to treat with Lang personally. As Ravenna was too insignificant a place to make it possible there to receive the representative of the Emperor with fitting honours, the Pope, though extremely dissatisfied with the slackness of his generals in their way of carrying on the war, had to leave that city on April 3 and return to Bologna, which he reached on the 7th of April, 1511. On the 10th of the month, Matthaeus Lang and Giovanni Gonzaga, as Envoys from the Emperor, and James Conchilles representing Ferdinand of Spain, entered the city in state, having previously had a private audience with the Pope. It was observed with dissatisfaction that even in this procession Lang appeared in secular dress. The pedantic Master of Ceremonies, Paris de Grassis, characteristically relates: “I entreated Lang in vain to attire himself as an ecclesiastic, especially in view of his approaching admission to the Sacred College, but he put me off by saying that he would appear in the garb which he wore when the Emperor sent him. When I asked the Pope about it he said that it was his wish that I should let the matter rest, and this I did, although many were displeased with me on this account, and still more with Lang.”

When, on the following day, the Envoys had their public audience, Lang, at the Pope’s express command, was given the place of honour immediately below the Cardinal­Deacons. This and other marks of distinction were received by the Envoy with such unmannerly arrogance, that he appeared to the courteous Italians a perfect savage. “He is a barbarian”, de Grassis writes in his Diary, “and behaves like a barbarian.” At the audience he curtly explained that Maximilian had sent him to Italy because he preferred to obtain his rights by peaceful means rather than by war, but that the only conditions under which he would treat were, that the Venetians should restore everything that they had taken on any title whatever, whether these lands belonged to the Empire or were hereditary possessions of Austria. When three Cardinals were deputed by Julius II to carry on the negotiations, Lang declared it to be beneath his dignity to deal personally with anyone but the Pope himself, and commissioned three of the nobles who accompanied him to meet the Cardinals. Julius had hoped to win him by bestowing on him the highest dignity and rich benefices, but all these favours seemed only to encourage him to greater insolence. He behaved as though his imperial master had already donned the Tiara. The Venetian Envoy reports with amazement with what pomp the Bishop of Gurk surrounded himself, and how seldom he visited the Pope. “At the audience he conducted himself as if he were a King rather than an Ambassador, and claimed the right of conversing with the Pope, sitting, and with his head covered”. It is not surprising that these never very promising negotiations should have come to nothing. On the 16th April all Louis XI.’s adherents had been excommunicated, and the views and desires of both the parties concerned were diametrically opposed to each other.

On the 25th of April the Bishop of Gurk left the Papal Court suddenly, “almost without taking leave, and with an angry mien”. The Venetian Envoy reports that Lang’s followers cried out as they were passing through the city gates, “Long live the Emperor, long live France, long live the Bentivogli.” It is not wonderful that it was commonly said in Bologna that the Pope was at daggers drawn with all the Powers, and that he was to be called before a Council and deposed.

Lang’s threats were something more than empty words, for the French, who had suspended their hostile operations while the negotiations were going on, at once recommenced them. It now became plain that Chaumont’s death, which took place on the 11th February, was a godsend for them. He had allowed Modena to fall into the hands of the enemy, had not attacked Bologna in time, and had not relieved Mirandola. On his death the command was assumed by the veteran Trivulzio. The first thing he did was to reconquer Concordia, and the next, to advance against Bologna. As soon as Julius heard this, he started in haste for the camp, in order to stir up his generals and set the army in motion. He meant to have slept the first night at Cento, but was obliged to stop at Pieve, as a troop of 1,000 foot soldiers who were encamped in the former place refused to leave it until they were paid. He was so much annoyed at this, that on the following day he returned to Bologna; but it was evident that if he remained there, he would again run the risk of being captured by the French. He resolved therefore to return to Ravenna. Before his departure he called the Council of Forty together, laid before them all the advantages which Bologna had derived from belonging to the Church, and admonished them to remain faithful to him. On their solemn promise to be always true to him, he confided the defence of the walls and gates to the citizens.

The fate of Bologna after the Pope’s departure, which took place on the 15th May, did not depend so much upon the conduct of her citizens as upon that of Alidosi and the Duke of Urbino, who, with his army, lay encamped before the city. The enmity between these two made all co-operation between them impossible; the hatred which Alidosi had drawn upon himself, and the consequent disloyalty of the inhabitants, did the rest. The moment the Pope was gone, the Bentivogli party began to stir and was joined by all who disliked the government of the Church. The city was soon in a turmoil, and Alidosi, without striking a blow, at once fled in disguise, first to the fort, and then, when he heard that the Sanfelice gate had been traitorously given up to the Bentivogli, to Castel Rio near Imola. The Duke of Urbino behaved no better. When the news reached him of what was going on in Bologna he gave the signal for a retreat which soon degenerated into a flight. All the artillery, and most of the baggage and colours, fell into the hands of the enemy. On the 23rd May Trivulzio entered Bologna, and the Bentivogli resumed the government of the city. They at once began, with brutal vandalism, to destroy all reminiscences, however valuable, of the Papal occupation. The bronze statue of the Pope, a splendid work of Michael Angelo’s which was placed over the doorway of the Cathedral in 1508, fell a sacrifice to this bitter spirit.

The loss of Bologna, which, next to Rome, was the most beautiful and the wealthiest of all the cities in the States of the Church, was “the hardest blow of fate which had ever fallen upon Julius II. He now found himself in the eighth year of his Pontificate and the sixty-eighth of his life with all his hard-won conquests torn from his grasp and every­thing that he had built up thrown down.” Nevertheless, when the news came, he received it without losing his self-command for a moment. In a brief address, he informed the Cardinals that the place had been lost through the treachery of the citizens and of the Duke of Urbino, who should pay for it with his life. He then at once gave the necessary orders for the concentration and reorganisation of the army.

Alidosi and the Duke of Urbino, perhaps with equal justice, each laid the blame on the other; both hastened to the Papal Court to justify themselves. Alidosi’s friends had done their best to strengthen the Pope’s conviction that the fault lay with the Duke, and he overwhelmed his nephew with violent reproaches. As he left his uncle’s presence, furious and smarting, under these, he met Alidosi, who was on horseback, coming to visit the Pope. The Cardinal saluted him smilingly, but the young Duke, with the passionate blood of the South boiling in his veins, drew his sword, and exclaiming, “Traitor, art thou here at last! Receive thy reward!” stabbed him mortally, and fled. Alidosi only lived an hour: his last words were, “I reap the reward of my misdeeds.”

The fact that everyone except Julius II rejoiced at the Legate’s death shows how universally detested he had made himself. He was regarded by all as a traitor, and the person who was really responsible for the fall of Bologna. “Most righteous God,” writes Paris de Grassis in his Diary, “how just are Thy judgments! Thanks are due to Thee from all for having punished this traitor as he deserved. The hated villain has indeed been removed by a human instrument, but not, as we believe, without Thy concurrence, and for this again we thank Thee.”

At the very time that the crime was committed, a meeting of the Cardinals was taking place, at which Cardinal Isvalies, who was universally beloved, had been appointed Legate of Bologna. To add to the sorrow caused by the murder of his favourite, Julius II deeply resented the outrage committed against the highest dignity in the Church. He left Ravenna at once and went to Rimini. There another, and perhaps a still more painful, surprise awaited him. On the 28th of May a citation to the Council of Pisa, to be opened on the 1st of September, was found affixed to the door of the church of S. Francesco, close to the Pope’s residence. The document was dated 16th May, 1511. It stated that the delegates of the Roman and German Emperor and the most Christian King proposed to summon a universal Council. This action on their part had become necessary in order to comply with the decree Frequens of the Council of Constance, owing to the negligence of the Pope, who had not kept the oath which he had sworn to in the Conclave. They declared that Julius II’s opposition to the Council fully justified the Cardinals in thus taking the matter into their own hands. They also declared that the majority of the members of the Sacred College who were free to do so, supported their action, and entered a protest beforehand against all censures that he might pronounce upon them. The Pope was requested to give his consent to the calling of this Council and also to attend it either personally or through a representative. All Cardinals, Bishops, Chapters, and Universities, as well as all secular Princes, were summoned and invited to take part in it. Meanwhile the Pope was not to create or promulgate any new Cardinals, to abstain from instituting proceedings against any of the older Cardinals or the Prelates who favoured the Council, and also from doing anything to hinder it from meeting, and further from any alterations or alienations in regard to the possessions of the Roman Church; any such acts would be invalid. As the Pope gave no safe-conducts, and often resorted to force, the publication of the summons in Modena, Parma, and Reggio must be deemed sufficient.

The Council was to be convoked in the names of Cardinals Carvajal, Briçonnet, Philip of Luxemburg, Francesco Borgia, Adriano da Corneto, de Prie, Carlo del Carretto, San Severino, and Ippolito d’Este. The summons was to be published “throughout the four nations ”; on the 23rd of May letters were sent to each of the several Princes calling upon them to send their Ambassadors and Prelates to the Assembly.

“The objects of the Council or, more correctly, the banners under which the forces of hypocrisy and ambition were to be marshalled, were the pacification of Christendom, a crusade against the infidels, and the reform of the Church in its Head and in its members.”

The convocation of a Council under these futile pretexts by a body of schismatic Cardinals was an act of open rebellion, a daring attack upon the most indisputable prerogative of the Supreme Head of the Church. At first no one ventured to tell the Pope, but of course it was not a matter of which he could long be kept in ignorance. From the Report of the Venetian Ambassador we can see how deeply he felt this blow. Bereft of almost all his political power—for the States of the Church were lying open at the mercy of the French army—he now saw his spiritual authority threatened and in the greatest danger; for behind the disloyal Cardinals stood not only the King of France, but also the Emperor, both bent on completely crushing his power and annihilating Venice. The ill- success of the war against Venice had thrown Maximilian into the arms of Louis XII. Since then he had sought his fortune, both in secular politics and in his dealings with the Church, in those “tortuous foreign ways” which had formerly been so distasteful to him. In many circles in Germany a distinctly anti-Roman spirit reigned and vented itself in constant complaints of the conduct of the Roman Court, both in politics and in Church affairs. As long ago as the year 1495, shortly before the Diet of Worms, inspired by a somewhat groundless fear that Alexander VI was purposing to bestow the Imperial Crown on Charles VIII of France, Hans von Hermanngrün, a Saxon nobleman, published a pamphlet which aptly mirrors the ferment of the time. He proposes, in case the Pope should take this step, to make a formal renunciation of obedience for the time, to appoint a German Patriarch in his place, and to arrange with Poland, Bohemia, and Hungary to summon a Council and cite the Pope to appear before it.

The Emperor gave vent to his grudge against Julius II for having made peace with Venice, by following the example of France and attacking the Pope on the spiritual side. In September, 1510, at the same time that Louis XII. was consulting his courtier Bishops, Maximilian sent his Secretary Spiegel with a copy of the French Pragmatic Sanction to the learned Jakob Wimpheling. Spiegel’s instructions state that the Em­peror is resolved to take measures to deliver Germany from the tyranny of the Roman Court, and to prevent large sums from being sent to Rome which are employed by the Pope merely in injuring him. Wimpheling is to give his opinion on three special points: the best way of defeating the quibbles and tricks of the Roman Court officials, the abolition of Annates, and the appointment of a permanent Legate, who should be a native of Germany, to adjudicate on all affairs and grievances there, and the advantages that would accrue from such an appointment.

The Emperor’s last proposition was a very far-reaching one, and went beyond anything that had been thought of in France. The appointment of a permanent Legate for Germany meant “a permanent change in the organisation of the Church, a sort of national independence for the German Church.” This plan, in combination with the introduction of a Pragmatic Sanction, was the first step towards a severance of the German Church from Rome, in other words, towards a schism. Wimpheling, who was a loyal son of the Church, at once recognised this ; his answer was prudent and reserved. He gave his opinion distinctly against the introduction of the Pragmatic Sanction, and in regard to the Legate, he spoke mistrustfully and doubtingly. On the other hand, he laid great stress on the necessity for an improvement, on conservative lines, in the relations of the German Church with Rome. He enlarged on the injuries inflicted on Germany by the members of the Roman Court, and recapitulated, with some alterations, the well-known gravamina of 1457. He dwelt principally on the financial side of the question, “and from his point of view he had every right to believe that a thorough administrative reform would do away with the necessity for a Council and probably make it possible to diminish pleadings before Roman Courts and improve the inner life of the Church.”

But at that time the Emperor took very little interest in the reform of abuses ; his only object was the political one of forcing Julius II to join the League of Cambrai. Every means was tried, negotiation, threats of schism and of a General Council. In regard to the Council, at first, in January 1511, Maximilian stipulated that the consent of the Pope and Cardinals must be obtained; but when the negotiations with Lang had proved a failure, and Louis XII in his anger had issued his citation, the Emperor, on the 5th of June, 1511, threw himself unreservedly into the French plans. Soon after, he forwarded the letter of invitation to the Queen of Hungary and Poland, begging her to send representatives to the Council and enable her Prelates to attend it.

In the year 1511 Louis carried his hatred against Julius II so far as to permit the representation on the stage of a satirical play directed against the Head of the Church. One of his political pamphleteers, Pierre Gringoire, composed a burlesque, for the production of which in the  principal market place in Paris (Aux Halles) a Royal privilege was granted. The Prince of Fools appears on the boards with his Court, fools of all sorts, current events are discussed, the disputes with England, the conflict with the Church, and one of the fools assures the public that

Le Prince des sotz ne pretend

Que donner paix a ses suppotz,

to which another replies:

Pource que l’eglise entreprent

Sur temporality et prent

Nous ne pouvons avoir repos.

Amongst the courtiers is the Général d’Enfance. He prances on to the stage on a hobby-horse brandishing a mock battle-axe, and shouting, “Hon, hon, men, men, pa, pa, tetet.” When the council are all assembled, the Prince appears, and the Seigneur de la Joie gives the password:—

Arriere bigotz et bigottes,

Nous n’en voulons point, par ma foy.

La “ Sotte commune”, supposed to represent the views of the mass of the people, is allowed to take part in the council, but gets nothing but jibes and jeers from the fine gentlemen. When she complains that they are always interfering and manage everything, while she has to suffer and pay, they simply laugh her down.

Suddenly a new figure appears on the scene, a woman in ecclesiastical attire and calling herself Mother Church. She is accompanied by two other female fools, “Confiance” and “Occasion”, the latter of whom specially supports and aids her. The great lady is very truculent, flings curses and anathemas at every one, and declares

Bien sgay qu’ on dit que je radotte,

Et que suis fol en ma vieillesse;

Mais grumeler vueil à ma porte

Mon fils le Prince, en telle sorte,

Qu’ il diminue sa noblesse.

She tries to get the nobles and prelates on her side and to persuade them to desert the Prince. The prelates follow her, and finally they come to blows in which the Sotte Commune gets the worst of it. In the mêlée Mother Church’s mantle is torn off, and she is discovered to be an impostor. She is not the Church at all, but only la Mere Sotte, and is deposed and driven out with indignity.

The meaning of this was plain, but the after-piece made it still clearer. The French and Italian nations appeared on the stage, and with them “l’homme obstiné” with two female companions, Simony and Hypocrisy. L’homme obstiné was Pope Julius II, “the sword of divine justice was hanging over his head, he consorted with robbers and murderers, and could not refrain from crime and rapine.”

In May 1511, at Louis XII’s desire, a pamphlet was written to pave the way for the Council. Its title was: “The difference between divisions in the Church and Assemblies of the Church, and the advantages of Synods of the Gallican Church”. The writer was a Belgian, Jean Lemaire. He endeavours to prove that all divisions are caused by the Popes, and all dissensions healed by means of general assemblies convoked by secular Princes. It was divided into three parts. The first tries to shew that the donations of temporal possessions have been the source of all those corruptions in the Church which had necessi­tated the calling of the earlier Councils to remedy them.

The second is devoted to pointing out the great services rendered to the Catholic faith by the Synods of the Gallican Church. The third treats of the divisions in the Church in general, and the coming schism, which, according to prophecy, is to be the worst of all. These things, Lemaire says, have injured the Church more than anything else; the desire for power, which is the mother of greed, the neglect of Councils, and the compulsory celibacy of the priests of the Latin Church.

Lemaire is never weary of denouncing the arrogance, greed, and wickedness of the bad Popes. He is unsparing in his satire of the “present Pope, who rigs himself out in martial attire, and tries to pose as a warrior, but only looks like a monk dancing in spurs. All the same he will not succeed in creating the new and abnormal world that he hopes for, for pigs will always eat acorns, and oaks will shed their leaves at the proper time, and where wood is wanted, wood will be used.” The pamphlet contains many other similar passages all directed against Julius II. It was written in the vulgar tongue with the object of giving it as wide a circulation as possible.

Louis accepted the dedication of the work, and also permitted the publication of caricatures of the Pope. One of these represents him standing surrounded by corpses with his flag lying on the ground. Close by is the empty Papal throne, over which France, depicted as a crowned warrior, keeps guard. The figure holds a banner with the oriflamme and the inscription, “Louis is master”.  Another picture, in a book in the private library of the King, represents the Church as a desolate woman in a Basilica; not far off is a figure wearing a Tiara with the inscription “Dissolution,” who is knocking down a pillar so that the roof seems in danger of falling. Another figure, “Charity,” lays her hand on the shoulder of the King of France, who is supporting the tottering edifice. Thus the French painters and the pamphleteers, such as Lemaire, Jean d’Auton, de Seyssel, and others, who were in the pay of the King, all combined to tell the same story; Louis was to be the reformer of the Church, and that without delay.

Though thus attacked and threatened with a schismatic Council by the two chief powers of the West, while in addition France and the revolted Cardinals were doing their utmost to obtain the adhesion of Henry VIII of England and the King of Hungary, Julius II did not lose heart. On the contrary, misfortune seemed only to stimulate his powers and rouse all his energies. He saw at once the weak points in the citation, and before he left Rimini he had issued a declaration exposing it. The schismatical Cardinals had had the audacity to issue the summons in the name of the Sacred College, and on their own authority to affix to the document the names of several absent members. Julius affirmed that two of these latter had expressly told him that this had been done without their sanction. To this serious charge Carvajal and his associates significantly answered that their powers without the others were amply sufficient to make the act valid.

Bowed down with sickness and anxiety, Julius II left Rimini on the 3rd June, 1511. On the 5th he was at Ancona, on the 11th he arrived at Loreto, on the 20th at Terni, where to his great vexation he witnessed a fight between its inhabitants and those of Spoleto. Torrents of rain forced him to halt for a time at Civita Castellana. Here a deputation arrived from the people of Rome begging him to return without delay. On the 26th of June he entered the city by the Porta del Popolo and on the following day under a burning sun proceeded in full pontificals to S. Peters, where he arrived completely exhausted. “This was the end of our toilsome and useless expedition”, writes Paris de Grassis. An utterly broken man, both in health and in power, Julius returned to the palace from which he had started nine months before full of brilliant hopes and confident that the French would be driven out of Italy. The Papal and Venetian troops were now completely dispersed and there was nothing to hinder the enemy from taking possession of the Papal States and of Rome, and deposing him. In this extreme need, with no one to rely on but himself, Julius again showed how immensely superior he was in genius and character to his enemies. While they were “hesitating, irresolute and divided, he, fully knowing his own mind, firmly refused to give himself up for lost.” His chief hopes of assistance rested on the King of Spain, to whom a special Envoy was sent with a long letter.

Guicciardini writes that Italy and the whole world were watching with trembling anxiety to see what use Louis XII was going to make of his victory. Julius II had absolutely nothing to protect him except the dignity of the Papacy. Whether from religious awe or from the fear of rousing the whole world against him, the King of France resolved not to go all lengths. He desired Trivulzio to retire on Milan and made overtures of peace to the Pope; if Julius would pardon the schismatical Cardinals he would give up the proposed Council; and he induced Bentivoglio to declare that he had never thought of wishing to throw off the suzerainty of the Church.

The schismatical Cardinals were equally wanting in that resolution and union amongst themselves which alone could have secured a victory. For one thing Cardinals Philip of Luxemburg, Adriano da Corneto, and Carlo del Carretto, whose names had been affixed to the citation without consulting them, protested loudly against the unwarrantable proceeding, and declared they would have nothing to do with the anti-Papal Council. Cardinal d’Este adopted an ambiguous attitude which finally led to his reconciliation with the Pope. Cardinal Gonzaga, whom the schismatics had made great efforts to win, had already joined Julius II at the end of May. The Venetian Envoy, a man of considerable penetration, wrote on the 3rd of July, 1511, that the Council of Pisa was at an end.

While the negotiations with France were going on, Julius II determined to deprive the revolted Cardinals of all pretext for keeping up the schism by turning their own weapon against them. On the 25th of July, 1511, a Bull dated the 18th was affixed to the doors of S. Peter’s summoning a universal Council to assemble in Rome on the 19th of April, 1512. In the preamble the Pope set forth the supreme dignity of the Roman Church, sanctified by the blood of martyrs, preserved from all error, and endowed with the primacy over all other Churches, which entailed upon her and her Head the duty of withstanding all schismatical attempts to destroy her unity. He then described the proceedings of the revolted Cardinals, denying their statements, and refuting their arguments; he declared that, both as Cardinal and Pope, he had done his best to further the assembling of a Council, and it had not been his fault that it had been so long delayed. The Bull goes on to emphasise the point that a Council can only be lawfully summoned by the Pope. Any that is not so called must be held of no account. This was especially the case in regard to the pretended Council at Pisa; the mere impossibility of its assembling within the specified term (September 1st) deprives it of all authority.

The Pope then declares that, in order to withstand these dangerous schismatical tendencies and defend the rights of the Holy See, he, with the approval of the Cardinals and in the plenitude of his apostolic power, pronounces the edict of convocation dated Milan, 16th May, 1511, to be in both its contents and effects illegal, null and void; all who adhere to it bring upon themselves the severest penalties of the Church, its authors and their abettors are deprived of all their dignities, and all cities and districts which harbour and support them are laid under Interdict. On the other hand, the Pope, desirous of fulfilling his engagements, and further, wishing to make a complete end of heresy, and stifle the beginnings of schism, to bring about a reform of morals both in the clergy and laity, union and peace in Christendom, and a holy war against the Turks, now calls an Ecumenical Council to meet in Rome at the Lateran Church after Easter, on the 19th April of the year 1512.

CHAPTER VI.

Julius II forms An Alliance with Spain.—His dangerous Illness.—His Recovery.—The Holy League of 1511.— Deposition of the Schismatical Cardinals.—Maximilian endeavours to possess Himself of the Tiara.—Failure of the French Pretence of a Council at Pisa.—The Battle of Ravenna on Easter Sunday, 1512.

JULIUS II, by issuing his summons for a General Council, had effectually checkmated the schismatical Cardinals even before they had begun their game. This bold stroke was entirely the Pope’s own idea. From the reports of the Venetian Envoys we find that the plan was already in his mind when he was at Bologna in the Spring of 1511, and the resolution to carry it out was taken at Rimini on the appearance of the citation of the Cardinals. During his journey to Rome the details of the plan were thought out and discussed with Cardinal Antonio de Monte and the Dominican, Thomas de Vio. A report from Tolentino of the Venetian Envoy on 14th June, 1511, says that the draft of the proclamation had already even then been laid before the Consistory, and the posting up of the schismatical citation in Rome on the 9th June naturally only had the effect of strengthening his resolve. But he was determined to do nothing hastily; and the Bull was not allowed to appear till the 18th of July, when it had been thoroughly considered and thought out in substance and in form. Whatever successes might be achieved in this direction would, however, have no effect on the other, and equally serious, danger arising from the preponderating power of France in Italy. Here, for Julius II, everything depended upon the interest which Spain had in checking this power.

The Pope’s confidence in Ferdinand’s perception of what the situation required was not disappointed. In this case, where the King’s interest coincided with that of the Church, he was perfectly willing to accept the honour of posing as the defender of the Holy See. With the consent of his Grandees and with the approval of Cardinal Ximenes summoned to Seville, it was decided to suspend the military operations in Africa, and send the army that had been employed there to Italy. In compliance with the Pope’s request, the rebellious Cardinal Carvajal was deprived of the Bishopric of Siguenza; and a considerable sum of money was forwarded to Rome in aid of the war.

Immediately after Julius’s arrival in Rome the Spanish Ambassador was desired by Ferdinand to offer him the assistance of Spain for the reconquest of Bologna. He also offered to endeavour to influence England to join in an alliance against France, and this Louis knew.

It appears, however, that it was only with much hesitation and against his will that Julius II finally brought himself to accept the alliance with Spain. He continued his negotiations with Louis XII as long as he could, and only broke them off at last when the King refused to comply with the indispensable condition that the revolted Cardinals should obey their citation to Rome. In the early part of August the provisions of the League between the Pope, Venice, Spain, and England were substantially agreed upon, and all that was wanting to its conclusion was the arrival of the necessary powers from England and Spain. The Swiss were also being approached to obtain help from them. At this moment an event occurred which seemed likely to upset everything.

Entirely absorbed in the labour and cares of the last few months, the Pope had wholly neglected the most ordinary care of his health. He trusted to his iron constitution without considering that there is a limit to everything. Since the end of July he had been incessantly at work, preparing for the Council, sending Briefs and Nuncios in all directions; he had begun legal proceedings against the Duke of Urbino and gone on personally conducting the negotiations with Spain and England in spite of an attack of fever in the beginning of August. On the 17th he had another, but would not desist from his work, and saw the Ambassadors while in bed. On the 20th it came on again with such violence that his physicians declared that the next attack must prove fatal. The news spread like lightning throughout Rome that the Pope was dying. The Cardinals began at once to prepare for the approaching Conclave. The Spanish Envoy summoned the Colonna to Rome, saying that the Pope was in extremity and that there was great danger that the Orsini, supported by France, would get possession of the city. On the 23rd of August the Venetian Ambassador Lippomano reports that “the Pope is passing away; Cardinal Medici tells me he cannot live through the night. Medici is trying for the Tiara, but it is thought that it will fall to one of the French party. Raffaele Riario and Fiesco are named. The city is in a turmoil; everyone is armed.” On the 24th Julius received the Holy Viaticum, removed the Interdict from Ferrara and Bologna, absolved the Duke of Urbino, and made all his dispositions for death. Paris de Grassis writes: “I think I may close my Diary here; for the Pope’s life is coming to an end through his obstinacy in refusing to follow the advice of his physicians. He has commended his servants to Cardinal Raffaele Riario and given him 34,000 ducats to divide amongst them. After he had taken a little food he seemed better. But on Monday the 25th he refused all nourishment, he had a relapse and his condition became hopeless. On Wednesday there was still no change; and as he had eaten nothing for four days, everyone, including his physicians, gave him up. The doors of his chamber were opened and some of the people made their way to his bed-side. He lay on his couch with closed eyes and seemed barely alive. Disturbances began in the city, many outlaws returned, confusion prevailed everywhere. All the public officials, even those in the courts of law, left their work, the Governor of the city took refuge in the Palace, and the Minister of Police in the Castle of St Angelo. The Sacred College met and desired me to make arrangements for the funeral obsequies and for the Conclave. Then it occurred to the Pope’s relations and servants to send for a very indulgent physician and suggest to him that he should give him permission to eat whatever he liked. By agreeing to this he succeeded in persuading his patient to consent to take some food. The Pope asked for peaches, nuts, plums, and other fruits, which he chewed but did not swallow. After that he had small onions and strawberries, which he likewise only chewed. But presently he swallowed several peaches and plums and then fell into a light sleep. This state of things went on for two days, during which those who attended him alternately hoped and despaired. Great apprehension was felt for the future; dangers of all sorts seemed hanging over our heads, disturbances, war, and scarcity”. The reports of the Envoys then in Rome show that the account of the Master of Ceremonies is not by any means exaggerated.

“Never,” writes the Venetian Ambassador Lippomano, “has there been such a clang of arms round the deathbed of any former Pope; never has the danger been greater than it is now. May God help us.” Some of the nobles endeavoured to take advantage of the turmoil in the city to bring about a rising against the Government of the Church. The ambitious Pompeo Colonna, whose relations had forced him into Holy Orders against his will, was at the head of the revolutionary party. Not content with the dignities of Bishop of Rieti and Abbot of Grottaferrata and Subiaco, Pompeo aimed at the purple and felt confident of obtaining it after the deaths of Cardinals Orsini, Colonna, Savelli, and Cesarini. But he was disappointed, and was now bent on making Julius II pay for this neglect of a member of one of the great Roman families. He hastened to the Capitol and from thence harangued the mob, urging them to cast off the domination of the priesthood and restore the republican constitution and liberties. It was resolved at the next election to demand many concessions from the new Pope, and amongst others insist on the nomination of a Roman Cardinal.

Julius now began to recover from his state of death-like prostration. The free use of fruit and liquids, which it had been supposed would have killed him, had really been his salvation. The fever was gone and by the 28th he was completely convalescent.

Deadly fear seized upon all those who had been reckoning on his death, the Cardinals who had been busy about the Conclave, and the Roman revolutionists. On the 28th the nobles assembled in the Capitol, and there, in order to make their former proceedings appear innocent, concluded one of those pacific conventions which were so familiar and so transitory. Then they parted : Pompeo Colonna fled to his fastness in Subiaco, the others to France; for the Pope who had been thought to be dead began at once to talk of retribution.

The recovery of Julius was somewhat retarded by his perverseness in the matter of diet, but he at once turned his attention to the resumption of the negotiations for the League against France. An alliance of all the Christian Princes was to be formed, to take the Pope, the Council, and Rome under their protection. The intrigues of the schismatical Cardinals, the refusal of Louis XII to dissociate himself from the Bentivogli, and his threats of setting up an anti-Pope filled Julius II with anxiety. On the 1st of October he had appointed Cardinal Medici, Legate of Bologna and the Romagna, and now he awaited with trembling impatience the definite formation of the League which was to protect him from his enemies and recover the lost States for the Church.

The League was finally arranged and signed on the 4th October, 1511, and on the following day was solemnly announced in Rome in Sta Maria del Popolo. The primary contracting parties were Julius II, Ferdinand of Spain, and the Republic of Venice, but it was expressly provided that the Emperor and the King of England were at liberty to join it if they wished. Europe was invited to rally round the Pope, and all Kings and Princes were asked to unite for one common object, namely, the preservation of the unity of the Church and of the integrity of her patrimony. The adhesion of Henry of England, which actually followed on the 17th November, was regarded at that time as certain, and the Swiss could also be counted upon to invade Milan.

Now that his position was so far secured, Julius II was able to take the last step in regard to the schismatical Cardinals. When the term appointed in the letter of citation had expired, in an open Consistory held on 24th October, at which there were eighteen Cardinals present, he pronounced the sentence of excommunication and deposition on Cardinals Carvajal, Briçonnet, Francesco Borgia, and de Prie, as rebels. Cardinals Sanseverino and d’Albret were threatened with the same punishment if they continued disobedient.

Thus before the Council had met, the Cardinals who had convoked it had been deposed. It is true that the day fixed for its opening had been the 1st of September, but they had themselves put off their arrival. Their prospects were about as bad as they possibly could be. Spain and England would have nothing to say to them, and in Italy and Germany the Council called forth no enthusiasm. Even in France they met with so little sympathy that on the 20th of September Cardinal de Prie wrote to Louis XII to say that, unless he would exert his royal power in favour of the assembly at Pisa, it would be a complete failure and effect nothing. “Thus at its very inception the free Council was to owe its existence to State despotism.” On the 1st September the number of those who were prepared to attend it was so small that it had to be put off till the 1st November.

From the first even its originators had no confidence in the success of their undertaking. In the beginning of September, the Spanish Cardinals knowing the position that their King was taking up, were prepared to repudiate it if the Pope would have allowed them to remain at Siena.

To the hostile attitude of the King of Spain was now added an unfavourable change in that of Maximilian. From the first the Emperor had disapproved of the choice of Pisa as the place for holding the Council. In July he said very decidedly that it could only be held in some town belonging to the Empire; Verona and Constance were mentioned. Also, not only Hungary and Poland but the Empire itself hung back from committing itself to an anti-Papal Council, and the Emperor received letters from various quarters warning him against it, amongst others from his daughter Margaret and from the learned Abbot Trithemius. The latter strongly urged him to have nothing to do with an assembly which was unlawfully convoked and must necessarily lead to a schism, and assured him that Germany would not follow him in this path. The attitude of the German clergy shewed that the Abbot of Sponheim was not mistaken on this point; and in addition to all this there was the difference between him and the King of France as to the place of meeting. It is not surprising, therefore, that the Emperor’s interest in the Council began to slacken.

When Julius II was so dangerously ill in August 1511, Maximilian, like every one else, supposed the Pope to be dying. He at once nominated three Envoys for the Conclave, and also intended to send his trusty Lang to Rome to unite with Cardinal Adriano Castellesi in looking after his interests in the new election. He told the English Ambassador that this Cardinal was his candidate. At the same time, Carvajal also hoped this time to attain the object of his ambition.

At first no one at the Imperial Court could believe in the reality of the Pope’s sudden and rapid recovery. They were still convinced that his days were numbered, and it was in this conviction that Maximilian wrote those much discussed letters in which he expressed his visionary notion of adding the Tiara to the Imperial crown. In one of these letters addressed to his daughter Margaret, Regent of the Netherlands, and dated 18th September, 1511, he says:

“Tomorrow I am going to send Mattaeus Lang, Bishop of Gurk, to Rome to arrange with the Pope about choosing me as his coadjutor with the reversion of the Papacy on his death, and allowing me to take holy orders, so that I may possibly be canonised and you may have to revere me as a saint after my death, which I should value much. I have sent an Envoy to the King of Spain, asking him to support me; which he has willingly promised to do on condition of my abdicating the Imperial crown in favour of my grand-son Charles, to which I cordially agree. The people and nobles of Rome have entered into a com­pact with each other against the French and Spaniards; they can arm 20,000 men, and have assured me that they will never consent to the elevation of a Frenchman, a Spaniard, or a Venetian, but will choose a Pope who shall be dependent on me and acceptable to the German nation. I am already beginning to canvass the Cardinals, for which purpose from 200,000 to 300,000 ducats would be very useful. The King of Spain has sent word to me through his Envoy that he will desire the Spanish Cardinals to support my candidature. I beg you to keep all this profoundly secret, although I fear that in a very short time the whole world will know it, as too many people have to be employed in the business and too much money is required. I commend you to God. Written by the hand of your good father, Maximilian, future Pope. September 18th.

“P.S.—The Pope has had a return of fever; he cannot live much longer. ”

This letter might quite possibly have been meant as a playful refusal of a project for a fresh marriage presented to him by Margaret, as he had been a widower since the 31st of December; for he was fond of writing jesting letters to her. But another addressed to the Tyrolese Land-Marschall, Paul von Lichtenstein, and dated 16th September, 1511, cannot be thus humorously interpreted. Maximilian writes:—

“Most noble, beloved, and faithful friend! We do not doubt that what we have imparted to you at various times as to our reasons for intending and desiring to obtain the Papacy is still fresh in your memory; as also we ourselves have never ceased to keep this purpose in mind. Moreover we feel in ourselves, and in fact it is so, that there can be no aim more noble, loftier, or better than that of attaining to the said dignity.

“And as the present Pope Julius has lately been dangerously ill, so much so that, as our Court Chancellor for the Tyrol, Cyprian of Serentin, has informed us, everyone in Rome thought that his last moment had come, we have resolved to take the necessary measures for carrying out our intention, and to act in such a manner as shall win for us the Papacy. Consequently we have laid these matters before Cardinal Adriano who, as you know, has been for some time past with us in Germany; who, when he heard it, wept for joy, and advised us strongly to proceed, and thinks that there are many Cardinals who will be of the same mind. And since, as you yourself also must see, it is very likely that the Pope will die (for he eats little, and that nothing but fruit, and drinks so much more that his life has no substance in it), if he does die, we have prepared the Bishop of Gurk to post at once to Rome to help us in this affair of the Papacy; but, as this cannot be done without a considerable sum of money which we must provide, we have promised the Cardinals and several other persons, to expend 300,000 ducats for the needs of our undertaking and to arrange that this money shall be obtainable from the Fugger Bank at Rome. As you know, at the present time we have no money, and the only way in which it will be possible for us to satisfy Fugger in regard to this sum will be by pledging our jewels.”

The Emperor then proceeds to give detailed instructions as to the negotiations for the loan; the jewels that are to be pledged, to which the feudal mantle worn by Charlemagne is to be added, which, he says, does not belong to the Empire, but is an Austrian heirloom, the property of the Hapsburgs, and will be no longer wanted by him when he is Pope; the manner in which, and the persons to whom, the money is to be paid, and how and when the articles pledged are to be redeemed. Von Lichtenstein is admonished to use all possible diligence to get the matter arranged quickly and secretly, to take no denial, but persist, even if at first he is met by a refusal, and to keep the Emperor thoroughly informed of every step in the proceedings, and is assured that his faithful service will be remembered and amply rewarded.

In the concluding paragraph the Emperor says: “We also wish you to know that today we have heard by a private post from our secretary John Colla, that the Orsini, Colonna, and the populus Romanus are quite resolved, and have engaged, not to accept any Pope who is a Frenchman or a Spaniard, or a candidate of either of these nations. And they have sent an Envoy privately to ask us not to fight with the French, so that they may be induced to remain neutral in regard to the Papal election. Given at Brixen, September 16, Anno 1511.”

 There can be no doubt that “in the letter there is no trace of banter of any sort. Also, it is not conceivable that Maximilian should have amused himself by mystifying his confidential servant, to whom he had quite lately given instructions in regard to his purposes, and whom he habitually employed in conducting his political affairs in Italy. The letter must be understood in its plain meaning.”

It is true that we are confronted here by another difficulty which cannot be held to be unimportant The original letter to Lichtenstein has never been found, and the historical trustworthiness of the author who published it a hundred years after the Emperor’s death without indicating the source from which he obtained it, is open to grave doubts.

In the present state of our knowledge it is impossible to say with certainty that Maximilian did seriously think of uniting the Imperial and Papal crowns in his own person, and thus realising his aspirations after complete sovereignty in Italy. Many things seem to indicate that this dream did actually cross his mind for a short time as a practical possibility; but all plans founded on the expected vacancy of the Chair of S. Peter were soon dissipated by the complete recovery of Julius II.

Maximilian was growing daily more and more dissatisfied with the conduct of Louis XII, and alarmed at his increasing preponderance in Italy, and the Pope now strove to win him to his side by the offer of an advantageous peace with Venice. He was not, however, immediately successful, for “on the 21st of October, 1511, the Emperor desired the Papal Envoys who were on their way to several of the electoral Princes to be stopped at Innsbruck and other places; but when, in November, England also definitely joined the League for the protection of the Church and her possessions, Maximilian began to change his policy.” On the 12th, at the instigation of the King of Spain, he asked Julius to act as intermediary between him and Venice. He began also to cool towards the anti-Papal Council. No doubt the adverse attitude of the German Episcopate had much to do with this. The Bishop of Brixen refused to act as Imperial representative at the Council, on the ground that he was more bound to the Pope than to the Emperor. The Archbishop of Salzburg declared himself precluded by his ecclesiastical oath from sending even one of his Counsellors to it. Now that England and Spain also had pronounced against it, while Hungary held aloof for the present from the opponents of the Pope, the schismatics had no power but France to support them. The Court Bishops, of course, followed the King; but all who could, as the Flemish clergy, who, in spite of Louis’s complaints never appeared at Lyons, tried to keep clear of the Council. The French disliked the Italian policy of their King, the people and the nobles objected to the cost of the war, and the Queen implored her husband to withdraw from a conflict with the Pope which might be extremely prejudicial to the interests of the future heir to the throne.

The Italian clergy as a body were faithful to the lawful Pope. The exceptions consisted only of a few such men as the restless Abbot Zaccaria Ferreri and Cardinal Sanseverino, who was so deeply compromised. Many warning voices were heard from amongst them. The pious hermit Angelo of Vallombrosa adjured Carvajal not to rend the unity of the Church ; what he was doing, he said, was like the crime of Lucifer and would draw down God’s judg­ments upon him. Angelo, like many other Italians, as Francesco Poggio, was diligent with his pen in defence of the rights of the Holy See against the schismatics. The most eminent of these writers were Domenico JacobazziJand the celebrated theologian and philosopher, Thomas de Vio of Gaeta, better known as Cajetanus, who, since 1508, had been General of the Dominicans. In several works which obtained the honour of being publicly burnt by Louis XII, Cajetanus dealt in a masterly and classical style with the false Conciliar theory of which the Council of Pisa was the latest offshoot He maintained that the power of the Pope in the Church was supreme and monarchical, demonstrated the difference between the authority of Peter and that of the other Apostles, denied the superiority of Councils over the Head of the Church, and refuted the objections drawn from the Councils of Constance and Basle. The theses which he defended were the following:—(1) A Council does not derive its authority immediately from Christ. (2) It does not represent the whole Church unless it includes the Pope. (3) A doubtful Pope, such as the one who presided at Constance, holds a very different position from one whose legitimacy is certain.

In Italy the only writers who advocated the schismatic Council and the oligarchical revolution in the constitution of the Church at which it aimed, were the Milanese jurist Decius and Zaccaria Ferreri. This latter, a learned but restless and changeable man, had first been a Benedictine monk, and then joined the Carthusians. Here too, he could not bear the quiet of the cloistered life, and threw himself eagerly into politics, labouring to enlist public opinion in support of the League of Cambrai and turn it against the Venetians, whom he hated, and continued to oppose even after the Republic had been absolved. He wrote poems in praise of the French and was thus brought into connection with Marshal Trivulzio, and initiated into the anti-Papal plans of Louis XII. As Carvajal and he had always been close friends, he was now completely drawn into the schismatical camp. Later he fought so energetically by letters, addresses, and tracts on the side of the mock Council, that he came to be regarded as its chief literary champion.

The character of Carvajal very much resembled that of Ferreri. He had early adopted the false theory of Councils; in addition to which he could not forget that he had once very nearly obtained the Tiara. “He had been forced to yield to Julius II, but he did not relinquish his ambitious plans.” Especially since the death of d’Amboise, he had become more engrossed with the hope of attaining the highest dignity. He threw himself into the French movement entirely, because he thought it might be serviceable to him. He had long ago quarrelled with the Pope; he loved pomp and show, and cared for reform as little as his associates did. Like Ferreri he was utterly untrustworthy. Zurita relates that he simultaneously asked Ferdinand for a safe-conduct for Naples, wrote to the Spanish Envoy in Germany to use all his influence to prevent any German prelates from coming to the Council, and begged the Emperor to send them. “He was sincere in nothing, and it was this hypocrite who was the President of the Council, to which he was only held by the impossibility or extreme peril of drawing back.” He was so much alarmed at the small amount of sympathy which the Council had evoked, that even at the last moment he made an attempt to be reconciled with the Pope. He had broken with Cardinal Briçonnet, whose heart like his own was set on obtaining the Tiara; but both he and his companions were too ambitious and too proud to bring themselves to comply with the stern requisitions of Julius II., who insisted on their coming to Rome and asking for absolution. The prospects of the schismatics, “not one of whom possessed the support of a genuine conviction,” were rendered still more gloomy by the behaviour of the Florentines. Florence had for many years been the ally of France and at first agreed to the choice of Pisa as the meeting place for the Council, but very soon she began to hesitate. Machiavelli was commissioned to persuade the schismatical Cardinals to delay, and to represent the true state of things to the French. His instruction of the 10th December says : “No one seems to wish to attend the Council; it therefore only serves to set the Pope against us, and we must consequently request that it may either not be held in Pisa, or at least may be put off Not a single prelate is coming from Germany and only a few from France, and these are linger­ing on the way. People are surprised at the announcement of a Council consisting of only three Cardinals, while the others who were given out as supporting them hide them­selves and do not appear.” Louis XII was, however, determined to have the Council at Pisa, and the Florentines were forced to yield, though much against the grain. Meanwhile their vacillating conduct did not satisfy France, and incensed the Pope. He laid an Interdict on the city, against which the Florentines appealed to a Council, but did not make it clear whether to that of Pisa or of Rome.

It was not till the middle of October that some Frenchmen began to appear at Pisa, as yet they were not the Bishops, but only the Bishops’ officials. They found the popular feeling so much against them that no one would let lodgings to them and they had to seize their quarters by force.

Further difficulties arose when the Cardinals proposed to come to Pisa escorted by French troops. Florence now announced that if they came with armed men they would be treated as enemies. Upon this they consented to be satisfied with a small company of archers commanded by Odet de Foix and Chatillon. It was on the 30th October that Cardinals Carvajal, Briçonnet, de Prie, and d’Albret arrived in Pisa with this small escort, and in pouring rain. They were provided with powers from Francesco Borgia, Sanseverino, and, they asserted, from Philip of Luxemburg. The proxy for Borgia lapsed almost immediately through his death.

In the course of their journey the schismatical Cardinals had encountered so much hostility on the part of the population, that they arrived much discouraged and with little confidence in the success of their undertaking. “In Prato and in Pistoja”, the Florentine chronicler Cerretani says, “they found the churches and inns closed, every one fled from them. In Pisa itself they could only get lodgings at the command of the Florentine Commissioners.”

On the 1st November the Council ought to have commenced its sittings in the cathedral, but in accordance with the Pope’s commands the Canons had locked all the doors. They therefore betook themselves to the Church of S. Michele, close to which Carvajal was lodged. It was a small building, but contained room and to spare in it for the accommodation of the “General Council.” The assembly consisted of the four Cardinals, the Archbishops of Lyons and Sens, fourteen French Bishops, five Abbots, all French except Ferreri, and a small number of theologians and jurists. The citizens of Pisa held almost entirely aloof; according to an eye-witness there were not more than ten present. Ferreri delivered an address on the necessity that a General Council should be held for the reform of the Church, and announced at its close that the proceedings would begin on the 5th of November. All who failed to present themselves were threatened with the censures of the Church. Finally an individual who announced himself as the Procurator of the King and the Emperor came for­ward as notary to execute the deed of constitution. The whole city was searched in vain for two citizens to act as witnesses; none would consent to officiate, and two unknown persons had to be taken.

Meanwhile orders had been sent from Florence that the use of the cathedral was to be granted to the Council, but that none of the clergy need attend if they were not so inclined. Thus the General Council was opened in the cathedral as announced, on the 5th November, in the presence of the four Cardinals and about eighteen Bishops and Abbots. Of the inhabitants of Pisa, about fifty appeared. The ceremonies were well carried out, we are told by an eye-witness, but the attendance of Prelates was so miserable, that many who had hitherto been sanguine of its success, now gave up all hope. Carvajal said the Mass, and then, as President of the assembly, seated himself on the semi-Papal throne prepared for him. Odet de Foix was declared Custos. It seems almost incredible, but nevertheless it is a fact, that this gathering had the audacity to declare solemnly that it was a lawfully convoked General Council and to proclaim all the censures and measures taken against it by Julius II to be null and void. In the second sitting on the 7th of November a resolution was passed which sheds a curious light on the amount of confidence which the schismatics entertained in each other. It was decided that the Council could not be dissolved by the withdrawal of any individual Prelates whoever they might be.

The hopes cherished by some that the Council might, as time went on, increase in numbers were not fulfilled, and Cardinals d’Este and Sanseverino gave no sign. However earnestly the Pisan assembly might contend that it was the “salt of the earth, and the light of the world”, history had accustomed Christendom to see the Church represented after a very different fashion. The indifference of all from whom they hoped for support, including the Florentines, their unprotected situation in Pisa, and the marked hostility of the population had from the first seriously alarmed the schismatics. Now, in addition to this, on the 9th of November a sanguinary conflict broke out between the Florentine troops combined with the Pisans on one side, and the French soldiers and the servants of the Cardinals on the other. A crowd assembled under the windows of the palace inhabited by the President of the Council, where the schismatics were gathered together, shouting “kill them.” The terrified reformers held a hasty sitting on the 12th instead of the 14th, which had been the day appointed for the next meeting, and passed three resolutions:—(1) The Synod was not to be dissolved until the whole Church had been reformed in faith and morals, in its head and members, all heresies and divisions purged away, and all impending strife between Christian Princes appeased. (2) The decrees of the fifth sitting of the Council of Constance were to be confirmed and made more stringent (though they did not apply to the present situation, as there was no question of the legitimacy of the Pope, nor, strictly speaking, any schism). (3) The Synod, without being dissolved, was to be removed from Pisa, where a hostile spirit has been displayed and it has not the requisite security, to Milan, where its fourth sitting was to be held on the 13th of December.

In Milan, even under the shelter of the French cannon, the same general dislike of the Council was displayed as in Pisa; both people and clergy kept away and could not be constrained to receive the schismatics with any tokens of respect. When they made their entry into the city on the 7th of December no Bishop or Prelate of any importance appeared on the occasion. In spite of the threats of the French Governor, the majority of the clergy observed the Interdict and the populace openly jeered at the "Anti-Papal masqueraders!”. Nevertheless, these latter, if less confidently, still obstinately persevered in their enterprise. The ambition of the Cardinals and the fanaticism of Ferreri seemed proof against all rebuffs. Neither the scorn of the Milanese, nor yet a fresh and sterner admonition from the Pope on the 3rd of December, nor even the abstention of a large portion of the French Episcopate, could make them pause or consider. They still continued to call themselves a General Council, hoping everything from the victorious arms of France and the strong hand of Louis XII. A letter from Cardinal de Prie, of 12th January, 1512, to the King asking him to confiscate the revenues of all the “papistical” Bishops, is very significant of this attitude. At the same time the French members of the Council also addressed Louis, claiming the reward of their services in cash. He does not seem to have had much confidence in the honesty of the reformers, for he refused to pay without a voucher attesting that they had been present both at Pisa and Milan.

The piteous failure of the pseudo-Council, which from the first seemed at the point of death from sheer anaemia, was an immense gain for the spiritual authority of Julius II. It was universally recognised that the motives of the schismatical Cardinals were purely personal and ambitious, and that in combination with the French Court Bishops it was the interests of Louis XII and not those of the Universal Church that they were serving. “The Pope could afford to wait without any great anxiety” for the inevitable collapse of this little band of “ambitious hypocrites, in whom no one believed and whom no one respected, thus masquerading before the world while in daily fear for their lives.” “ But he showed his penetration and prudence in not overprizing the success which their wretched failure had prepared for him. This triumph was only a negative one; to turn it into a real victory, it was necessary to oppose to this effete assembly a Council at the Lateran which should be universally recognised as truly oecumenical. To this achievement the Pope devoted himself with all his might, and in the wisest and most practical manner.” To meet the pressing need of the moment it had to give way to the political and military measures which claimed immediate attention. No effort was spared to equip a sufficient army. Julius II strained his financial resources to their utmost limit to accomplish this, but his efforts to be ready in time were frustrated by the “tardiness of the Spaniards, which made it impossible for him to strike at the right moment.” As Venice, also, was too late, and allowed the opportunity to pass, the French succeeded in repelling the attack of the Swiss on Milan. The hardy mountaineers, however, whom Louis had treated with the utmost contempt, announced their intention of returning in the Spring. They had got the French into Italy, they said, and they would drive them out of it. On the 7th January, 1512, Julius nominated Cardinal Schinner as Cardinal-Legate for Lombardy and Germany with extraordinary powers. In an open Consistory he gave him his Legate’s-cross with the words, saying, “In this sign of the Holy Cross mayest thou begin, prosper, and vanquish.”

In the same month the Pope decided on taking further measures against the rebellious Cardinals — “the sect of Carvajal,” as they were called. Almost anything might be apprehended from the sort of blind fury which possessed these Cardinals, and it was seriously feared in Rome that they might set up an anti-Pope. On the 30th of January a Consistory was held, at which Cardinal Bakocs was not present, though he had lately arrived in Rome. At this meeting the deprivation of Cardinal Sanseverino, who still persisted in his revolt, and had even sent agents to Rome to endeavour to stir up an insurrection there, was pronounced. In February several of his benefices were given to others, Cardinal Schinner received the Bishopric of Novara. On the 13th of February, Zaccaria, Ferreri, and Philip Decius were also condemned as schismatics. At the end of January the League at last commenced operations, attacking simultaneously in different places. On the 25th of January the Venetians appeared before Brescia, and on the 26th the combined Spanish and Papal army, commanded by Raymond of Cardona, Viceroy of Naples, invested Bologna. On the 2nd of February Brescia fell, and it seemed as if Milan would be lost to France. At this critical moment Louis’s nephew Gaston de Foix appeared on the scene as the saviour of the French. Young as he was in years he was already an experienced general. With that marvellous promptitude which won for him the sobriquet of “foudre de ritalie,” he swooped down, not upon Modena where the enemy was waiting for him, but seawards on Finale. By forced marches he led his troops through deep snow and over frozen marshes and streams to Bologna, in a space of time hitherto unparalleled for shortness. In the night of 4th-5th February, under cover of a snowstorm, he slipped into the city unobserved by the enemy. On hearing that he and his troops were actually within the walls the besiegers broke up their camp. Gaston immediately took advantage of this to march rapidly on Brescia, which, after a sanguinary conflict in the streets, was taken on the 18th of February.

Bembo says that the Pope flew into a violent rage when he heard of the withdrawal of the troops from before Bologna, but was calmed by the news of the taking of Brescia. Though the night was cold and stormy, he immediately sent for the Venetian Ambassador and kept him in conversation for two hours, shedding tears of joy. How great therefore must have been his distress when he heard of its loss only a few days later. To add to his vexation at the torpor of the Spaniards, fresh troubles now sprung up in Rome itself.fThe intrigues of Cardinal Sanseverino amongst the Roman Barons found the soil only too well prepared, and set up a ferment which seemed likely to become very dangerous. Julius II was most afraid of the Orsini party who were devoted to France. He strengthened the city guard at the gates, and himself withdrew for a time to the Castle of St. Angelo. Many arrests were made, and it was said that a plot had been discovered for getting possession of the Pope’s person. But there was worse to come.

Louis XII saw that everything depended on striking such a blow as would paralyse the Papal and Venetian army before the Swiss had time to invade Milan, and King Ferdinand to attack Navarre, and before Henry VIII could land in Normandy, or the Emperor distinctly declare against him. A victory should be immediately followed up by the dethronement of the Pope, the occupation of the Papal States by Cardinal Sanseverino, and the expulsion of the Spaniards from Naples. At the end of March, Gaston de Foix left Brescia and began to march southward on the Romagna. Raymond of Cardona prudently retired before his too able adversary, but the latter succeeded in forcing a battle by turning aside to besiege Ravenna. At any cost this city, which contained the magazines for supplying the army, had to be defended. Thus, on Easter Sunday, the 11th of April, 1512, the two hosts met on the banks of the Ronco about two miles from Ravenna. “This battle was the most sanguinary that had been fought on Italian soil since the days of the Huns and Goths”. Gaston’s infantry was composed of German and Italian as well as French soldiers; his army numbered about 25,000, that of the League 20,000.

The fight was begun by the artillery, the Duke of Ferrara’s guns especially doing splendid service. Jacopo Guicciardini, writing to his brother Francesco, then Florentine Envoy in Spain, says: “It was horrible to see how every shot made a lane through the serried ranks of the men at arms, sending helmets and heads and scattered limbs flying through the air. When the Spaniards found themselves thus being blown to pieces without breaking a lance they dashed forward, and then the hand to hand fight began. It was a desperate one, and lasted four hours. When the first onset of the men at arms had been repulsed and those behind them had suffered severely, the rest turned and fled with the light cavalry. The Spanish foot soldiers held their ground alone and made a stubborn resistance, but they were for the most part ridden down by the heavy cavalry. On the French side the men of Gascony and Picardy fought badly, the Germans very well.”

The battle lasted from 8 a.m. till 4 p.m. and was finally won by the Ferrarese artillery and the steady endurance of the German troops. Of the 10,000 corpses left on the field, one-third belonged to the French army, and the other two- thirds to their enemies. The Papal Legate, Giovanni de’ Medici, and two generals, Fabrizio Colonna and the Marquess of Pescara, were taken prisoners, and the whole army train of the League with their artillery and banners was captured. But the shouts of triumph from the French ranks were quickly silenced when it became known that Gaston de Foix had fallen on the battlefield. The corpse of the young hero was brought into Ravenna on the following day; eighteen captured banners were borne before it. In a few more days the whole of the Romagna was in the hands of the French. The warlike Cardinal Sanseverino entered Flaminia bent on the conquest of Rome and the deposition of Julius II. The coalition against France, from which such great things had been expected, had utterly broken down. The greatest excitement prevailed throughout the whole of Italy. It was said that various monstrous births had taken place in Ravenna, which were supposed to denote that the French had been sent into Italy by God as a punishment for the sins of the Italians.!

On the 14th of April the news of the disaster at Ravenna reached Julius II.; when it became known in Rome the whole city was terror-stricken. Everyone knew that Gaston had threatened to conquer Rome and have a new Pope elected, and it seemed as if the enemy might at any moment appear at the gates, for all had heard of the light­ning-like swiftness of his movements. The Florentine chronicler Cerretani states that it was feared that Rome would be sacked and the Prelates murdered. For a moment, even the Pope’s courage gave way and he talked of flight, which the Spanish Envoy strongly advised. But while the terror of the Cardinals and Romans continued and could not be tranquillised, Julius II recovered himself immediately and showed his usual resolution and the resourcefulness which he always displayed under misfortune. On the 15th of April he told the Venetian and Spanish Ambassadors that he would spend 100,000 ducats and pledge his crown to drive the French out of Italy. Orders were at once issued for the equipment of fresh armaments. The news brought to Rome on the 15th April by the Knight of S. John, Giulio de’ Medici, who had been sent thither with a French safe-conduct by the captive Cardinal Legate, had no doubt much to do with the “marvellous elasticity” displayed by Julius II after such a crushing blow. Giulio reported that the French loss had been enormous and that the army was completely demoralised by the death of its ablest leader. The new commander, La Palice, was, not in the King’s confidence and was at daggers drawn with the haughty Cardinal Sanseverino. It would be quite out of the question for the French to march immediately upon Rome and there was a rumour that the Swiss were on their way to Italy. It was becoming more and more evident that the battle of Ravenna was a Pyrrhic victory for France. It was significant of the change in the situation that the Duke of Ferrara had retired into his own territory and the Duke of Urbino had offered to send troops to the Pope. In compliance with the wishes of the Cardinals, who still continued to urge the Pope to make peace, he commenced negotiations with the French; but it is hardly conceivable that a statesman like Julius II could be seriously anxious to come to terms just then when he would have had to purchase peace at the highest price. He himself admitted that his only object in these negotiations was “to quiet down the French.” If Spain and England remained faithful he had still resources enough to prosecute the war, and every motive for desiring to do so, against an enemy who had wounded him both on the temporal and spiritual side where he was most susceptible, and mocked him on the stage and in satirical poems.

At the same time the Pope’s difficulties at this particular time were increased by the unsatisfactory state of his immediate surroundings; but Julius II faced this additional peril with unflinching courage, and in a wonderfully short space of time succeeded in winning one-half of the Roman Barons with the Colonna, and overawing the others, as was the case with the Orsini.

CHAPTER VII,

Arrogance and Downfall of the Schismatics.—Success of the Fifth Ecumenical Council at the Lateran.—The Swiss as the Saviours of the Holy See. — Annihilation of the Power of France in Italy. -

The issue of the battle at Ravenna gave fresh courage to the schismatics at Milan. While the fortunes of war seemed still hanging in the balance they had been chary of carrying their proceedings against the Pope too far. Now, on the 21st April, 1512, it was resolved that he should be suspended from all spiritual or temporal administration and threatened with further punishments. His powers were held to have lapsed to the “Holy Synod.” “But even the magic halo of victory which now encircled the French arms had not power enough to infuse life into the still-born offspring of the schismatics.” The aversion and scorn of the Milanese was not lessened, and even Louis XII admitted to the Spanish Envoy that the Council was a mere farce, a bogey set up to intimidate the Pope. The schismatics had to endure the humiliation of seeing the Milanese in troops throwing themselves on their knees before the captive Cardinal Medici, and imploring him to absolve them from the censures they had incurred by their participation in the war against the Pope.

Meanwhile in Rome Julius II pursued his task with unwearied energy and undaunted courage. The preparations for the Ecumenical Council were never interrupted even for a moment by all the alarm and anxiety caused by the disaster at Ravenna. The war had obliged him to put off its opening to the 3rd May, and although the situation was still full of difficulties, it took place at the appointed time.

The Lateran Council forms a landmark in the history of the world. More than eighty years had elapsed since the opening of that of Basle, which, instead of effecting the hoped for reforms in the Church, had proved a source of revolutionary movements and endless confusion throughout all Christendom. Now another lawful Council was assembling in Rome, in the first place to defend the liberties of the Church against the revolutionary pretensions of France, and after that to deal with the great questions of the century, the reform of the Church and the war against the Turks.

A triduum of impetratory processions was held on the preceding days, and on the evening of the 2nd May the Pope went in solemn state, surrounded by the Swiss guards and with a strong military escort, to the Lateran Palace,, where he spent the night. As disturbances from the French party were apprehended, the whole of the neighbourhood was occupied by a detachment of troops. On the following day, the Feast of the Invention of the Holy Cross, the Council was formally opened in that venerable Basilica which bears the honourable title of “Mother and Queen or all Churches”. Besides the Pope, 16 Cardinals (two had been prevented from attending by sickness) were present, 100 Prelates (mostly Italian), of whom 70 were Bishops, 12 Patriarchs, and 3 Generals of religious Orders; in addi­tion to these were the representatives of Spain, Venice, and Florence, and of the Roman Senators and Conservators, and finally a number of the Roman nobles. The office of guard of honour to the Council was undertaken by the Knights of Rhodes. They formed an imposing body in their splendid uniform, embroidered with gold and silk and with the white cross on their breasts. An immense crowd filled the church. The Mass of the Holy Ghost was said by Cardinal Riario; after which an address in classical Latin was delivered by the General of the Augustinians, Aegidius of Viterbo, which was universally admired. He began with a frank exposition of the great evils prevailing in the Church, and the benefits to be derived from General Councils. The preacher explained the overthrow of the troops of the League at Ravenna as a Divine providence, intended, by allowing the Church to be defeated when she trusted in alien arms, to throw her back on her own weapons, piety and prayer, the armour of faith and the sword of light. With these she had conquered Africa, Europe, and Asia; since she had taken up with strange adornments and defences she had lost much. It was the voice of God which had summoned the Pope to hold the Council, to renovate the Church, to give peace to the nations, to avert further blows and wounds in the future.  “Thou,” said the Lord to Peter, “being once converted confirm thy brethren”. “Hear ye this, most illustrious Princes of the Apostles, protectors and defenders of the city of Rome. Hearken to the sighs and moanings of the Church which You founded with your blood, which now lies prostrate, overwhelmed beneath a flood of calamities. Have you not seen how in this very year the earth has drunk more blood than rain? Bring us help and lift her up out of the waves under which she is submerged. Hear the supplications of all the peoples of Christendom, prostrate at your feet .The Pope unites with the Fathers, the Senate and the whole world to implore your assistance for himself, for the Church, the city of Rome, these temples, these altars which enshrine your sacred relics, this Council which is taking up arms with the support of the Holy Ghost for the salvation of Christendom. We beg of you to obtain the reconciliation of all Christian Princes with each other, so that all may turn their swords against Mahomet the enemy of Christ, and that the charity of the Church, instead of being extinguished by all these waves and storms, may, through the merits of the Holy Cross and the inspiration of the Holy Ghost, which are commemorated together in the festival of today, be cleansed from all stains and glow again in all its pristine purity and splendour”.

When Aegidius had concluded, the Pope, having taken his place with the Cardinals in the Choir of the Basilica, bestowed the solemn Benediction and announced a plenary indulgence. He then intoned the first line of the “Veni Sancte Spiritus” and proceeded to the tribune for the Council which was erected in the nave. There the Litanies of the Saint were sung with the usual prayers, and the Cardinal­Deacon Luigi d’Aragona read the Gospel which narrates the sending forth of the disciples. To spare the Pope’s failing strength, Cardinal Alessandro Farnese read his address for him. In it he briefly set forth the reasons for summoning the Council and the advantages that were to be hoped for from its assembling. He had long been desirous, he said, of calling a Council, but had deferred it on account of the incessant wars between the Christian Princes; now, however, the need for it seemed to him to have become urgent, in order to prevent the division which Satan had caused in the House of God from spreading further and infecting the whole flock of Christ He prayed that all might have the fear of the Lord before their eyes, express their opinions freely, and seek rather to please Him than man. He hoped that, with the assistance of Almighty God, all evil customs might be amended, peace be re-established among Christian Princes, and, under the banner of the Cross, all the artifices of the ancient enemy be brought to naught. He now declared the Council opened and fixed the 10th of May for its first sitting.

When the ceremonies were concluded the Pope made his thanksgiving in the Church of S. Pietro in Vincoli. He was delighted at the way in which the solemnities had been carried through, referred laughingly to his anxiety beforehand lest there should be disturbances, and promised de Grassis a Bishopric as a reward for the admirable way in which he had organised and conducted the whole function.

The first sitting took place as arranged, under the presidency of the Pope, on the 10th of May. Cardinal Grimani sang the Mass of the Holy Ghost, and Bernardino Zane, also a Venetian, was the preacher. In his sermon he first touched briefly on the Turkish danger and then proceeded to treat of the unity of the Church. This he defined as consisting: (1) in the union of the members with each other; (2) in their subordination to the Head, the Vicar of Christ; hence all who do not obey the Head, and who separate themselves from the other members of the body, are schismatics. As it is a law of justice, both human and divine, that offenders should be punished according to the nature of their offences, schismatics fall under a double penalty; they are cut off from the communion of the faithful, and they lose all their apostolical privileges, offices, and dignities. It is the duty of the Pope and the Fathers in Council to suppress heretics and schismatics, and render them powerless to do harm, so that the evil may not spread nor the spark burst into a flame. The Pope then delivered a short address, reminding those present of what were the objects of the Council. He described these as the rooting out of schism, the reform of the Church, and the Crusade. Then the Bulls of July 1511,and April 1512, were read, and the officers of the Council appointed and sworn in by the Pope himself.

The second sitting, at which the Council of Pisa was pronounced null and void, was held on the 17th. Over 100 Prelates were present at it. The High Mass was sung by the Hungarian Cardinal, Thomas Bakocs. The sermon, preached by the General of the Dominicans, Thomas de Vio (Cajetanus), was a very remarkable one. The subject was the Catholic doctrine regarding the Church and Synods. He described the Church as the Holy City of Jerusalem seen by S. John with her healing powers (the Sacraments), her apostles, pastors, teachers, and gifts, and the close mutual union subsisting between her inhabitants, like that between all the members of the same body. He pointed out how the Church was a city, how she was holy, the city of peace, Jerusalem, how, unlike the synagogue, she remains ever new and strong, how she has come down from Heaven and is built after the pattern of the heavenly kingdom. This Church, he went on to say, is governed by the Vicar of Christ, to whom all the citizens owe allegiance, not only each individually but as a body. The Pisan Synod possessed none of the notes of the true Church, and appeared rather to have risen up out of Hell than descended from Heaven. It represented only one nation and that but partially, was not universal, could not claim to be the city to which the strength of the Gentiles had come, or the multitude of the sea had been converted. This assembly was neither holy nor lawfully convened, was stained with error, subordinated Peter to the Church, the Pope to the Council, set the members above the head, and the sheep before the shepherd. It cannot be called Jerusalem, for it possesses neither peace nor order, but on the contrary aims at undermining the noble order of the Roman Church and wages war against her; and is like the city and tower of Babel, generating nothing but confusion. She is new, but in a very different sense from the newness of the true Church; she is the offspring of Constance and Basle. The Pope should be the mirror of the Power, the Perfection, and the Wisdom of God. He manifests the power of God when he girds himself with his own sword, for he possesses two swords, one which he shares with temporal princes and another which is reserved to him only. This latter is the sword of the spiritual power for the destruction of errors and schisms. The power of the Pope should be combined with the image of the Divine Perfection, which consists in loving-kindness. To this must be added wisdom, and this wisdom is specially displayed in the calling of the present Council, which should manifest it more and more by realising the hopes that are entertained of it and making the Church such as the spirit shewed it to the beloved disciple.

It is significant of the change which had come about in the views of the majority of theologians at that time, that this outspoken condemnation of the false Conciliar theory called forth no contradiction. The evils which this theory, the offspring of a period of almost boundless confusion, had brought upon the Church and the world had come to be very widely recognised. The weakness of the schismatics and the success of the Lateran Council shewed how completely the Catholic view, that no Council could be salutary for the Church that was not held with and under the Pope, had gained the upper hand.

At the conclusion of Cajetan’s address, a letter from the King of England on his alliance with the Pope was read; and then another from the King of Spain, accrediting his Counsellor, Hieronymus de Vich, as Envoy from himself and his daughter Joanna, Queen of Castile, to act as their representative at the Council, and support Julius, the rightful Pope, against the schismatics. Next followed the reading of the Papal Bull confirming and renewing the censures pronounced against the pseudo-Council. At the same time, in view of the political situation, and the probability that representatives of other nations might be ex­pected later, and also the coming Summer heats, the next sitting was adjourned to the 3rd of November.

While England had now definitely joined the League against France, the Emperor of Germany also was gradually drawing nearer to the Pope, who held out hopes of an advantageous peace with Venice. That Julius should have been successful in persuading Maximilian to conclude an armistice with the Republic for ten months “was a great step in advance. The Emperor did not join the League, and his friendship with France remained ostensibly intact; but the position he now took up was unfavourable to her and advantageous for the allies.” In April, through Cardinal Schinner, he gave permission to the Swiss, who were marching to help the Pope, to pass through his dominions and supplied them with provisions.^

At the end of May, the Swiss contingents, numbering in all 18,000 men, met in Verona, where Cardinal Schinner presented to his countrymen, “as loyal and chivalrous defenders and protectors of the Holy Church and the Pope”, a cap of honour adorned with gold and pearls, and an ornamented sword, as gifts from Julius II and symbols of the political independence of the Confederation. This acknowledgment was well-deserved, for it was reserved to these brave mountaineers to strike the final blow which decided the issue of the war in Italy; they were the saviours of the Holy See. Though, no doubt, political and financial considerations had their weight in determining this expedition, a spirit of very genuine religious enthusiasm was by no means wanting amongst the Swiss. Zwingli, the open­air preacher of Glarus, writing to his friend Vadian in Vienna, says: “The Swiss have seen the deplorable state to which the Church of God, the mother of Christendom, has been reduced, and they think it both wrong and dangerous to permit this rapacious tyrant to remain unpunished.”

Almost simultaneously with the arrival of the Swiss in Italy, Maximilian recalled the German foot-soldiers, which formed practically the core of the French army, and had materially contributed to its victory at Ravenna. At the very moment that it was thus weakened it found itself threatened by four armies at once—the Papal troops under the Duke of Urbino, and the Spaniards, Venetians, and Swiss. No reinforcements could be hoped for from France, as the army at home had not a man to spare from the defence of the frontiers against the attacks of England and Spain. Since the death of Gaston de Foix, the French force in Italy had been left without organisation, spirit, or plans. The Romagna was first evacuated, and soon Upper Italy was also abandoned. On the 14th June the Swiss sat down before Pavia, which capitulated after a short siege. Upon this the whole Duchy of Milan rose against the French, who had made themselves universally hated.

Now that it was becoming more and more evident that the battle of Ravenna had been but a Pyrrhic victory, the schismatics found their position untenable. On the 4th of June they decided to remove to Asti. Their departure was more like a flight than anything else, and gave Cardinal Medici the opportunity of escaping. But even at Asti they found it impossible to remain, and soon had to move on to Lyons. Here the only act of the assembly was to demand a subsidy from the French clergy and the University of Paris, and thus “without any formal dissolution, the French Council disappeared from the scene.”

Genoa also had cast off the yoke of France, chosen Giovanni Fregoso as Doge, and declared herself independent. Rimini, Cesena, and Ravenna returned to their allegiance to the Pope. On the 13th of June the Duke of Urbino took possession of Bologna in the name of the Church. The Papal troops now turned back to subdue Parma and Piacenza, which Julius II claimed as heir to the Countess Matilda. On the 20th, Ottaviano Sforza, Bishop of Lodi, entered Milan as the Pope’s lieutenant. On the 28th, La Palice, with the remnants of his army, arrived, broken and hopeless, at the foot of the Alps. Thus Louis XII, after having stirred up a schism and striven to annihilate the Pope, ended by losing in ten weeks not only all the fruits of his victory at Ravenna, but also all his possessions in Italy, including even Asti, which belonged to his own family. “The soldiers of Louis XII have vanished like mist before the sun”, writes Francesco Vettori, without having fought a single battle, and almost without having defended a single town. That which Julius had been striving with all his might for years to achieve, was now brought about by a sudden turn of events, so unexpected, that Raphael in his fresco in the Vatican has symbolically represented it as a miracle.

It was on the 22nd of June that Julius II received the first detailed account of the rout of the French in a letter from Pavia from Cardinal Schinner. He read the whole letter through first in silence; then, turning with a beaming countenance to the Master of Ceremonies, “We have won, Paris”, he exclaimed, “we have won!”. “May God give your Holiness joy of it,” answered de Grassis, to which the Pope immediately added, “And to all the faithful souls whom He has at last deigned to deliver from the yoke of the barbarians.” Then he unfolded the letter again and read it from beginning to end to all who were present. Immediately afterwards he announced his intention of going on the following day to his former titular Church, S. Pietro in Vincoli, to give thanks there to God. Though far from well, he had himself carried thither on the 23rd and remained for a long time absorbed in prayer before the High Altar. How wonderfully everything was changed. S. Peter’s chains were indeed broken; the Italian poets sang of Julius as the liberator of Italy. On the 27th he received four delegates from Bologna, who had been sent to sue for pardon. In the evening the whole city suddenly burst into a flood of light. This was to celebrate a fresh victory, the liberation of Genoa, his own native city. Cannon thundered from St Angelo and fireworks blazed all over the city. The Pope returned to the Vatican in a solemn triumphal procession, accompanied by his whole Court and all the officials, carrying torches. The cry of “Julius, Julius,” rose on all sides. “Never,” says the Venetian Envoy, “was any Emperor or victorious general so honoured on his entry into Rome as the Pope has been today.” A universal amnesty was proclaimed and alms distributed to all the convents. “Now God has left us nothing more to ask from Him,” he said, “we have only to pour forth our gratitude for the splendour of our triumph.”

Commands were issued for a triduum of processions of thanksgiving and other rejoicings to be held through­out the States of the Church as well as in Rome. On the same day, 27th June, Briefs were despatched to all parts of Christendom desiring the faithful to celebrate the liberation of Italy and of the Holy See. As a last­ing memorial of these events the Pope presented to the Church of S. Peter some splendid vestments and a golden altar-frontal with an inscription, saying that it was a votive offering to God and the Princes of the Apostles in thanks­giving for the “liberation of Italy.” At the same time Julius was far from forgetting to whom next to God he was most indebted for his victory, and showered rewards on the stalwart Swiss. In a Bull of 6th July, 1512, he bestowed on them in perpetuity the title of “Protectors of the liberty of the Church,” and also sent them two-large banners. One of them bore the Papal tiara with the keys and the inscription, “Pope Julius II, nephew of Sixtus IV, of Savona”; on the other the family arms of the Pope were depicted with the keys and the motto: “The Lord is my helper; I will not fear what man can do unto me”. Every township which had sent a contingent to the army received a silken banner, with the arms of the place and a religious picture, the subject of which they were permitted to choose, embroidered or painted upon it. These gifts admirably corresponded with the character of the people, at once martial and pious. Many of these banners have been preserved to the present day. In addition to these marks of honour, Julius granted several spiritual favours to the Swiss, and bestowed the Countship of Vigevano on Schinner.

To no one was the complete discomfiture of the French so crushing a blow as to Duke Alfonso of Ferrara. It left him absolutely helpless at the mercy of the Pope whom he had treated with such insolence. Trusting to the friendship of the Colonna and of his brother-in-law Gonzaga of Mantua, and also armed with a safe-conduct from Julius, he came to Rome on the 4th of July to endeavour to save what he could. The Pope willingly absolved him from all ecclesiastical censures, but insisted on his giving up Ferrara and accepting Asti instead. The Colonna strove in vain to mediate in his favour; and soon he began to feel that he was not safe in Rome. In this he was not mistaken, for Julius would have had no scruple in de­taining and imprisoning him. He resolved, therefore, to fly, and with the help of the Colonna succeeded in getting away on the 19th of July. The Pope was extremely indignant and instituted proceedings against him as a rebellious vassal.

A Congress of the interested powers was held in Mantua in August for the reorganisation of political relations which the war had left in utter confusion. Here it soon became plain that victory had sown dissension amongst the members of the League. There was only one point upon which all the allies were agreed, and that was that Florence must be punished for holding to France as she had done and refusing to join the League, and for harbouring the schismatics. It was resolved that the Medici should be restored, and a combined Papal and Spanish army was despatched to effect this. On the 30th August the Spaniards conquered Prato, and cruelly sacked it. Upon this the Florentines yielded, and in September the Medici returned, first the gentle and attractive Giuliano, later the Cardinal, and took the government of the city into their hands. The question as to who should have the Duchy of Milan was decided at the Congress of Mantua. Ferdinand of Spain and Maximilian desired to secure it for their grand-son Charles, but the Swiss and Julius II, who did not wish to see any foreign power established in Lombardy, succeeded in arranging that it should be bestowed on Massimiliano Sforza, the son of Lodovico Moro; who became a fast friend of the Swiss Confederation. On the 8th of October, however, Parma and Piacenza were separated from the Duchy and included in the States of the Church. Reggio had already, on the 4th of July, submitted to the Pope; and sent Envoys later to Rome to make their profession of obedience, expressing themselves in very humble terms. A contemporaneous historian remarks that this was the first time since the donation of King Pepin that a Pope had possessed this city.

But in spite of all these successes there was still a reverse side to the medal. “With the exception of the Pope and the Swiss none of the allies were completely satisfied. The Emperor, whose chief object had been to push a formidable rival out of Italy, now realised with dismay that he had only succeeded in substituting the Pope for France”. The appropriation of Parma, Piacenza, and Reggio by Julius was felt as a blow at the Imperial Court, and it is not surprising that Maximilian’s attitude was far from friendly when the Pope’s further wishes came to be dealt with. The feeling in Spain was very much the same as in Germany. Under these circumstances Ferrara had to be left alone, especially as the behaviour of the Duke of Urbino did not inspire confidence in his intentions. The power of the Swiss also somewhat weighed on the Pope; but his greatest anxiety was the uncertainty as to the intentions of King Ferdinand. He heard with alarm that the Spanish army was marching from Tuscany towards Lombardy. “If, as rumour now whispered, and as indeed became partially the fact afterwards, he was going to embark in a private war of acquisition here without troubling himself about the rights of the League or the claims of Venice, he would then obtain a point of vantage in the north of the peninsula from which, in combination with his legitimate claims in the south, he could stretch out his arms over the whole, and have the Holy See entirely at his mercy.” This made it of the highest importance for Julius to be on the most friendly terms with the Emperor in order to counterbalance the power of Spain. To ensure the complete success of the Lateran Council, also, the co-operation of the Emperor was most necessary. The majority of the Christian Princes (Spain, Portugal, England, Scotland, Hungary, Norway, and Denmark)! had all declared in its favour, and France had been laid under Interdict in August; but to complete her isolation and that of the Council of Lyons, the adhesion of the Emperor was essential. Thus, when in the late Autumn of 1512 Matthaeus Lang, Maximilian’s most trusted and influential adviser, appeared in Rome, the Pope’s joy knew no bounds. The haughty prelate assumed the air of an emperor, but every effort was made to satisfy and win him. In all the cities of the States of the Church he was received with honours, and the Pope gave special orders to his Master of Ceremonies that in Rome his entry should be accompanied with every possible manifestation of con­sideration and welcome.

Lang is described by contemporary writers as a handsome man with fair hair, looking about forty years of age. He arrived in Rome on the evening of the 4th November, and sent his people to the apartments prepared for them, while he himself went at once incognito to the Vatican, where Julius II was burning with impatience to meet him. That no manifestation of regard might be wanting in the welcome of the man upon whom so much depended, the Pope came out as far as the first antechamber to receive him. On the same evening they had a long private inter­view, and Lang spent the night in the Vatican. On the following day he made his official entry into Rome with all possible pomp. “During my whole term of office,” writes the Papal Master of Ceremonies, “I have never seen a more splendid pageant: it was like a triumphal procession.” At first it was proposed that the College of Cardinals and the whole of the clergy should meet him outside the gates. But the majority of the Cardinals ob­jected to this as an honour which had never been accorded to any but crowned heads; but in every other particular his reception was that of a King. Cardinals Bakocs and Leon­ardo Grosso della Rovere met him at the foot of Monte Mario, and placed him between them, a token of respect which he at first declined with affected humility. At the Ponte Molle the Senator of Rome and his officials awaited him. At the Porta del Popolo, in accordance with the usual etiquette, the Cardinals took their leave, and were replaced by the Governor of Rome and the Maggiordomo of the Palace. The streets were lined with spectators, all the Envoys took part in the procession, and the guns of St Angelo shook the old building to its foundation with their noisy welcome. Night had fallen before the procession reached the Vatican, which was illuminated, and where Lang’s official reception by the Pope now took place.

The principal difficulty in the negotiations of the first few days lay not in the relations between the Pope and the Emperor, but in those of the latter with Venice. Throughout the Summer Julius had been labouring to induce the Venetians to yield as far as possible to the Emperor. But the negotiations had all failed, for Maximilian required the Republic to give up Verona and Vicenza, and to pay down a sum of 250,000 ducats for the fiefship of Padua and Treviso, with the addition of a yearly toll of 30,000 ducats. The Venetians refused to accede to these terms, and demanded the retrocession of Verona, for which, however, they were willing to pay an annual tribute to the Emperor during his life. When, on the 7th November, the Venetian Envoys gave to the Pope, who had acted as intermediary between them and Maximilian, their final answer declining to accept his terms, Julius II for the third time reversed his political course. In spite of the urgent remonstrances of the representatives of the Republic and many of the Cardinals and the efforts of the Spanish Envoy, who tried to induce him to defer his decision, the Pope determined at once to conclude a close alliance with the Emperor. He was firmly convinced that both ecclesiastical and political considera­tions imperatively demanded this measure, and on the evening of the 29th of November the agreement between Julius II and Maximilian was signed. The Emperor engaged to defend the Pope against all attacks, repudiated the schismatics, acknowledged the Lateran Council, washed his hands of the Duke of Ferrara and the Bentivogli, and handed over Reggio and Modena for the present to the Pope. Julius II promised to support Maximilian against Venice with both spiritual and temporal weapons if she persisted in her refusal to relinquish Verona and Vicenza, and to pay tribute for the other imperial fiefs; to assist him with spiritual arms against the Flemings, and to grant him in Germany a tax of a tenth on the clergy if the electors would also consent.

On the same day, in a Secret Consistory, Lang was admitted into the College of Cardinals; but, at his own express wish, his nomination was not yet published, and the Pope also dispensed him from the obligation of wearing a Cardinal’s dress. On the 24th of November an open Consistory was held, at which the Swiss Envoys were received, and Lang’s elevation to the Cardinalate was also announced, although he still refused to assume the insignia of his rank. The reason which he gave for this was that he was anxious “that the object of his mission should not be misunderstood.” On the 25th of November the new alliance was formally announced in Sto Maria del Popolo. Ferdinand of Spain also promised to help against Venice if she refused to yield.

The answer of the Republic consisted in entering into close relations with France, which led, in March 1513, to a definite alliance. The Pope had been anxious to prevent this, and in consequence had not as yet pronounced the censures of the Church against Venice. The result of this union with France was again to prevent the allies from doing anything against Ferrara.

The price which Julius II consented to pay in order to secure the adhesion of Maximilian to the Council, shows how far this Pope was from being the mere politician that many have tried to make him out. Anyone who had counted on finding him so absorbed in politics as to be indifferent to the intrigues of the schismatics, would have been utterly mistaken. On the contrary, there is no doubt that the revolt in the Church was a heavier blow to Julius II. than any of his political reverses. Although it was plain that the attempts of the schismatics had completely failed, he could not be satisfied till the movement was entirely extirpated.

The winning over of the Emperor was the crowning victory in the rapid succession of the Pope’s triumphs, and was to be published, to all the world. The third sitting of the Council was held on the 3rd of December. Though the Pope had long been ailing, and the weather was stormy and rainy, he was determined to be present at it. One hundred and eleven members attended it. The High Mass was sung by Cardinal Vigerio and the usual sermon preached by the Bishop of Melfi, the subject being the unity of the Church. After this the Secretary of the Council, Tommaso Inghirami, then read the letter from the Emperor accrediting Lang as his plenipotentiary and procurator at the Council, and denouncing the Conciliabula set up by the King of France at Tours and at Pisa. Lang, who appeared in lay attire, read a declaration from the Emperor repudiating the schism of Pisa, and announcing his adhesion to the Lateran Council, and at the same time made his profession of obedience to the Pope in his own name and that of his colleague Alberto da Carpi. At the close of the proceedings the Bishop of Forli read a Papal Bull again declaring all the acts of the Pisan Council null and void, laying France under Interdict, and appointing the 10th of December for the next sitting.

Encouraged by his recent successes, the Pope now determined to lay the axe to the root of the schismatic movement in France. It was decided that proceedings should be commenced against the Pragmatic Sanction. It had, in fact, become urgently necessary to do away with this law, which had been revived by Louis XII. No lasting triumph of the Church over these schismatic tendencies was possible as long as it remained in force.

The fourth sitting of the Council was held under the presidency of the Pope himself on the 10th of December. Nineteen Cardinals, 96 Patriarchs, Archbishops, and Bishops, 4 Abbots, and 4 Generals of religious Orders were present, besides the representatives of the Emperor, the King of Spain, the Florentines, and the Swiss Confederation. The first business was the reading of the letter from the Venetian Government of 10th April, 1512, accrediting Francesco Foscari as their representative at the Council; and after this Louis XI.’s letter of 27th November, 1461, on the abolition of the Pragmatic Sanction. Upon this a monition was issued, summoning all upholders of the Sanction in France, whether laymen or ecclesiastics, to appear before the Council within sixty days to give an account of their conduct The fifth sitting of the Council was fixed for the 16th February, 1513, at the close of this term, and at it the Pragmatic Sanction would be dealt with and resolutions in regard to it adopted, in accordance with Canon Law. A special commission was appointed to institute the necessary preliminary investigations. Then a Bull was read confirming former Papal decrees on the Pragmatic Sanction, the nullity of the acts of the Pisan Council, and the reform of the Court officials. The address at this Council, the last at which Julius II was present, was delivered by the Apostolical Notary Cristoforo Marcello of Venice. It substantially consisted of an enthusiastic panegyric on the Pope. “Julius II”, the speaker said, “in a most just war against an enemy far stronger than himself, had personally undergone the extremes of heat and cold, all sorts of fatigues, sleepless nights, sickness, and even danger of death without flinching. At his own expense, with unexampled generosity, he had equipped an army, liberated Bologna, driven the enemy (the French) out of Italy, subdued Reggio, Parma, and Piacenza, brought joy and peace to his country, and earned for himself an immortal name. Still greater was the glory that awaited him at this present time in the works of peace, the reform and exaltation of the Church, which was groaning under so many evils and threatened by traitors within and enemies without; which had brought up children who despised her, and had so often poured forth her complaint in mournful chants, but now raised her eyes full of joy and hope to the bridegroom who had come to deliver her. The Pope would be her physician, pilot, husbandman, in short, her all in all, almost as though God were again on earth.”

Certainly Julius II. had good cause to be satisfied with the splendid successes of the last half-year. Nevertheless, both as an Italian and as a Pope, the preponderance of Spain in Italy could not but fail to be a source of anxiety and vexation to him. The knowledge that this was “largely due to his own action must have made the trial all the greater, and the prospect for the future was not improved by the fact that the heir-presumptive of the King of Spain was also heir-presumptive of the Emperor in whose hands so large a portion of Venetian territory was now gathered.” In his near surroundings on all sides Julius could not escape from the consciousness of Spanish influence. He felt it in his dealings with the Colonna, at Florence, in Siena, and in Piombino, and an utterance of his, preserved by Jovius, shows how it galled him. Cardinal Grimani, in conversation with him one day, made an allusion to the foreign sovereignty in Naples, and the Pope, striking the ground with his stick, exclaimed: “If God grants me life I will free the Neapolitans from the yoke which is now on their necks.” No doubt his restless spirit was again meditating new efforts and enterprises when the body at last finally broke down.

For a long time past Julius II had been ailing. He had never wholly recovered from his serious illness in August 1511, although his iron will enabled him to conceal his sufferings so effectually that even those who were constantly in contact with him were for some time deceived. At last, however, he had to confess to himself that his days were numbered. On the eve of Pentecost, 1512, he felt so weak after Vespers that he told his Master of Ceremonies that in future he would not attempt to officiate in solemn functions, he had not strength enough to go through the ceremonial. When some of the Cardinals congratulated him on the freshness of his complexion and said he looked younger than he had done ten years earlier, he said to de Grassis: “They are flattering me; I know better; my strength diminishes from day to day and I cannot live much longer. Therefore I beg you not to expect me at Vespers or at Mass from henceforth.” All the same he took part in the procession on Good Friday. On the eve of the Feast of S. John the Baptist he made a pilgrimage to the Church of S. Pietro in Vincoli, which brought on an attack of fever.

At the end of November he paid one of those short visits to Ostia, which he always thoroughly enjoyed, and returned so much refreshed that he was able to attend the third and fourth sittings of the Lateran Council. But even then it was observed that the Pope was singularly restless. On the second Sunday in Advent he went to his Palace at S. Pietro in Vincoli because he could go out walking there with greater freedom; but from that time forth he changed his residence almost daily. One day he went to S. Croce, the next to Sta Maria Maggiore, then back to S. Lorenzo fuori le Mura, or S. Eusebio; striving in vain to escape from the sense of distress which always pursued him. On Christmas Eve, when Paris de Grassis came to tell him that it was time for Vespers, Julius said: “You had better tell the Sacred College and the Sacristan of the Palace to bring me the holy-oils, for I feel very ill. I shall not live much longer”. The Master of Ceremonies could not believe that he was so ill as he thought himself, but others, as the Venetian Envoy, saw plainly that his condition was serious, though his strong will upheld him and enabled him still to attend to affairs as usual. At the end of December one of the Captains of the Swiss Guards predicted that the end was not far off. The health of the aged Pontiff was no doubt unfavourably affected by the constant vexations and anxieties caused by the Spanish preponderance in Italy. After Christmas he was unable to leave his bed. He could not sleep and dis­liked all food. He was attended by eight physicians considered the ablest in Rome, but none of them could find out the cause of his malady. “The Pope is not exactly ill,” writes the Venetian Envoy on the 16th January, 1513, “but he has no appetite ; he eats nothing but two eggs in the whole day; he has no fever, but his age makes his condition serious; he is harassed with anxieties.” In addition to his uncertainty as to what King Ferdinand meant to do, Julius II had reason to fear that the Swiss were preparing to ally themselves with France.

All the efforts of the physicians failed to relieve the sleeplessness and want of appetite. Though they recommended as much rest as possible, the Pope, trusting in the strength of his constitution, would not give up his work, and received both Cardinals and Envoys while in bed; but he did not conceal the truth from himself that he was slowly passing away. On the 4th of February he called Paris de Grassis to his bed-side and told him with great seriousness and resignation that his end was very near; he put himself into God’s hands, recovery was out of the question; he thanked God for not taking him away suddenly, as had been the case with so many of his predecessors, and giving him time to recollect himself and die like a Christian and make his dispositions for time and eternity. He had confidence, he said, in de Grassis and believed that he would faithfully carry out all his wishes. In regard to his funeral, he desired that it should not be penurious, but at the same time that there should be no pomp or display. He did not deserve honours, for he had been a great sinner; but, nevertheless, he wished to have all things ordered decently and not to be treated in the unseemly manner that some of his predecessors had been. He would trust all these matters to the discretion of his faithful servant He then gave orders on all necessary affairs, entering into the minutest details, and bequeathed a sum of money to be given to needy priests to say Masses for his soul.

On the 10th November the Venetian Envoy reports that “the Pope has shivering fits, and negotiations are already beginning for the choice of his successor.” The city was in a ferment, but the Cardinals took stringent precautions to preserve order. In the following days the Pope grew worse, but still did not quite give himself up. He was able to give orders for everything which concerned the fifth sitting of the Council (on the 16th February), and made it a special point that in this sitting the ordinances for the prevention of simony in Papal elections should be re-enacted and made more stringent. On the 19th de Grassis came to him to learn his wishes as to the date of the next sitting. “I found his Holiness,” he says, “looking quite well and cheerful, as if he had had little or nothing the matter with him. When I expressed my surprise and joy at this, and congratulated him, he answered smiling, ‘Yesterday I was very near dying, today I am well again’. He replied to all my questions as far as he could. He was anxious that the Council should be held on the appointed day, whatever might happen, in order not to put off the term fixed for the submission of the King of France and his adherents; but the Assembly was not to deal with any matters except those which had been arranged for at the preceding session. Cardinal Riario was to preside as Dean of the Sacred College. He then granted Indulgences to me and mine, and, to shew me how well he felt, asked me to drink a glass of Malvoisie with him. When I told this to the Cardinals, who were weeping, thinking him at the point of death, they could hardly believe me.”

The improvement, however, was only transitory, and the faithful de Grassis now rendered to his master the last and kindest of services. Hitherto the Pope’s attendants, in dread of alarming him, had put off sending for the Holy Viaticum. De Grassis now insisted that this should be done, and he relates how the Pope, having previously made his confession, received the Holy Eucharist on the 20th of February with the greatest devotion. After this, Julius II had all the Cardinals summoned to his bed-side, and begged for their earnest prayers as he had been a great sinner and had not ruled the Church as he ought to have done. He admonished them to fear God, and observe the precepts of the Church. He desired them to hold the election in strict accordance with the law and the prescriptions in his Bull on the subject. The election belonged to the Cardinals only, the Council had nothing to do with it. All absent Cardinals, with the exception only of the schismatics, were to be invited to take part in the Conclave. In his own person he forgave these latter with his whole heart, but as Pope it was his duty to exclude them from the Conclave. He said all these things in Latin, in a grave and impressive manner, as though he were addressing a Consistory. Then, in Italian, he expressed his wish that the Vicariate of Pesaro should be granted in perpetuity to the Duke of Urbino. After this he bestowed his Blessing on the Cardinals; all were in tears, including the Pope himself. He met death with wonderful calmness and steadfastness of soul. He refused to accede to some other wishes expressed by his relations ; thinking only of the good of the Church. In his last hours his attendants gave him a draught containing a solution of gold, which had been pronounced to be an unfailing specific by one of the quacks of that day. During the night of the 200th-21st February, 1513, his strong spirit passed away, clear and conscious to the last.

The body was immediately laid out in S. Peter’s, and afterwards placed beside the remains of Sixtus IV. We are told that the people flocked to S. Peter’s in extraordinary numbers, and an eyewitness says that as much honour was paid to the corpse as if it had been the body of S. Peter himself. “Rome felt that the soul which had passed from her had been of royal mould”. Paris de Grassis writes in his Diary : “I have lived forty years in this city, but never yet have I seen such a vast throng at the funeral of any former Pope. The guards were overpowered by the crowds insisting on kissing the dead man’s feet. Weeping, they prayed for his soul, calling him a true Pope and Vicar of Christ, a pillar of justice, a zealous promoter of the Apostolic Church, an enemy and queller of tyrants. Many even to whom the death of Julius might have been supposed welcome for various reasons burst into tears, declaring that this Pope had delivered them and Italy and Christendom from the yoke of the French barbarians.”

The chronicler Sebastiano de Branca speaks of Julius in the same tone. But it was not in Rome only that Julius II was popular; the great services which he had rendered to the Holy See were largely appreciated in the States of the Church also, as may be seen from the enthusiastic praises bestowed on him by Bontempi of Perugia.

At the same time, there were many who judged him very differently. A man who had played such an energetic and effective part in the affairs of his time could not fail to have bitter opponents, who, as was the custom of the day, assailed him after his death with stinging satires; but setting aside this and similar ebullitions of party hatred, there is no doubt that the verdict pronounced by many serious historians on Julius II.has been the reverse of favourable ; while it is also extremely questionable whether this verdict has been well-grounded.

It is certain that the very general acceptance of Guicciardini’s dictum, that Julius II had nothing of the priest in him but the cassock and the name, is an injustice. When the Florentine historian made use of the phrase, he was telling the story of the Pope’s winter campaign against Mirandola. Undoubtedly at that time Julius II was carried away by his eager temperament to violate the decorum clericale in a scandalous manner, and deserves grave blame for this as also for the violent outbursts of anger to which he so often gave way. But to assert in a general way that Julius was “one of the most profane and unecclesiastical figures that ever occupied the Chair of S. Peter,” that “there was not a trace of Christian piety to be found in him”, and that he was so utterly worldly and warlike that he cared nothing for ecclesiastical obligations or interests, is quite unwarrantable and untrue.

The Diary of his Master of Ceremonies, Paris de Grassis, who was by no means blind to his master’s failings, shows in numberless places how faithfully Julius II fulfilled his ecclesiastical obligations. As far as his health would allow he was regular in his attendance at all the offices of the Church; he heard Mass almost daily and often celebrated, even when travelling and when the start took place before daybreak. After his illness in 1510, when still unable to stand, he did not permit his weakness to prevent him from saying Mass on Christmas’ Day, and celebrated sitting, in his private chapel. However occupied he might be with political affairs, Church functions were never neglected. In everything that regarded the government of the Church he was equally exact. His name is connected with a whole series of ordinances and administrative enactments, some of them of considerable importance.

Amongst them one that specially deserves mention is his severe Bull against simony in Papal elections, designed to prevent the repetition of the disgraceful practices which were resorted to at the election of Alexander VI. This document is dated the 14th January, 1505. It declares all simoniacal elections from henceforth null, and pronounces the severest penalties of the Church on all guilty of such practices. Further, it ordains that all intermediaries and agents, whether lay or clerical, and whatever their rank, whether Prelates, Archbishops or Bishops, or Envoys of Kings or States, who are implicated in a simoniacal election are to be deprived of their dignities, and their goods are to be confiscated. The Bull forbids all promises or engagements to be contracted by Cardinals or any other persons in connection with a Papal election and declares them null and void. This Bull was not published till October 1510, from Bologna at the beginning of the war with France, and when it had been approved of by all the Cardinals then present: it was then sent to nearly all the Princes of Christendom. At the Lateran Council it was again approved, re-enacted, and published as is stated in the Bull of 16th February, 1513.

In order to carry out more effectually the measures taken by Alexander VI in 1501 for providing the new American Colonies with Bishops, Julius II in 1504 created an Arch­bishopric and two Bishoprics in Española (Hayti) and nominated prelates to these sees; but the fiscal policy of Ferdinand placed all sorts of difficulties in the way of the sending out of the newly-appointed Bishops, and after long delay and much tedious negotiation Julius at last gave way in order not to interrupt the work of conversion. By a Papal Brief of the 8th of August, 1511, the arrangements made in 1504 were cancelled, and two new Bishoprics erected in S. Domingo and Conception de la Vega in Española, and in S. Juan in Porto Rico, and placed under the Archbishop of Seville, which was the seat of the administration for the colonies. When in 1506 Christopher Columbus the great discoverer who had done so much to enlarge the sphere of the husbandry of the Church died, Julius II interested himself in favour of his son Diego at the Court of Spain.

The Pope equally took pains to promote the spread of Christianity in the regions discovered and acquired by the King of Portugal beyond the seas, to which many missionaries were despatched. Preachers were sent to India, Ethiopia, and to the Congo. In the year 1512, Envoys from the latter place arrived in Rome. For a short time Julius II cherished magnificent hopes of the conversion of Ismail the Shah of Persia, and tried to induce the King of Hungary to interest himself in the question, but these bright dreams were soon dispelled.

The Pope showed his interest in the maintenance of the purity of the doctrines of the Church by appointing Inquisitors for the Diocese of Toul, for the kingdom of Naples, and for Benevento, and admonishing them to act with decision.

He interested himself in the conversion of the Bohemian sectaries, and to facilitate this permitted them to take part in Catholic worship. On the other hand, he took strong measures to put down the Picards. A new doctrine, put forward by Piero de’ Lucca, on the Incarnation of Christ, was carefully examined by the Pope’s orders, with the result that it was solemnly condemned on the 7th September, 1511. In Bologna in 1508 a heretical monk who had been guilty of sacrilege was burnt. In Switzerland four Dominicans who had imposed on the people by false miracles were executed by his orders; and in Rome in 1503, and again in 1513, he took measures to repress the Marañas. In Spain and elsewhere he did his best to put a stop to unjust or too severe proceedings on the part of the Inquisitors.

In Sicily the Spanish Inquisition had been introduced in 1500, and in 1510 Ferdinand tried to establish it in Naples, but met with a determined resistance. Serious disturbances ensued; the nobles and citizens combined together in opposing it, and the King, not feeling himself strong enough to carry the matter through, gave way. Julius IL tans in their opposition.! He resisted the encroachment of the State on the liberties and rights of his Church, not only at Venice, but in many other places also, and in con­sequence came into collision with the Government in England, in the Netherlands with the Regent Margaret, in Spain with Ferdinand, with Louis XII in France, and with the rulers of Hungary, Savoy, and others.

Julius II was by no means blind to the need for reform within the Church. On the 4th November, 1504, the subject was discussed in Consistory, and a Commission of six Cardinals appointed to deal with it; but those who were behind the scenes were of opinion that the only practical point to which the Commission meant to give their attention was the prevention of any fresh creation of Cardinals! The exceptional difficulties, both political and ecclesiastical, with which Julius was beset on all sides throughout the whole of his reign, drove the larger question of reform into the background; but they did not hinder him from instituting many useful and salutary changes in individual cases, especially in convents. The Pope shewed his strong interest in the Dominican Order by a series of enactments for the renovation of their convents in Italy, France, and Ireland. He forbade Dominican and Franciscan friars who were pursuing their studies in Universities to reside out of their convents. He established the Congregation of S. Justina on a new footing, which was of the greatest advantage to it. The venerable mother-house of the Benedictines, Monte Cassino, which had been bestowed in commendam, was returned to the Order during his Pontificate. In the year 1504 he ordained that the Congregation of S. Justina should from henceforth bear the name of Congregatio Cassinensis : §and in 1506 he affiliated the Sicilian Congregation also to Monte Cassino.

His plan for reuniting the separated branches of the Order of S. Francis into a single body was one which also tended in the direction of reform. The difficulties, however, in the way of carrying this out proved so great, that he was forced to content himself with obliging all the smaller separate communities to unite themselves with one or other of the two main stems, the Conventuals or the Observantines. At the same time he expressly ordained that those which affiliated themselves to the Conventuals should have power to retain their stricter rule. Though most of the smaller communities very much disliked this measure still all finally submitted to the Pope’s command.*A Bull was issued on the 16th June, 1508, dealing with the reform of the Carthusians, and another on the 24th March, 1511, with that of the Italian Cistercians.

In England Julius II took measures for remedying the abuses connected with ecclesiastical immunities, and in Basle he instituted proceedings against the Augustinian nuns of Klingenthal for immorality. Many enactments were issued to put a stop to the proceedings of unauthorised persons who went about demanding money in the name of the Church. He also did what he could for the cause of morality in general, by the unfailing support and encouragement which he bestowed on the outspoken mission preachers, who did so much good amongst the mass of the people.

All the religious orders found in him a kind and helpful friend. The Order of S. John Gualbert of Vallombrosa, the Benedictine Congregation of the Blessed Virgin of Monte Oliveto, the Augustinian Hermits and the Regular Canons of S. Augustine were specially favoured by him, and received many privileges. He confirmed the rule of the Franciscan Society of S. John of Guadelupe in Granada and the new Statutes of S. Francis de Paula, and settled many disputes between various religious congregations. He had a great liking for religious orders generally. During the Lateran Council many of the Bishops strongly urged him to take away some of their privileges, but this he steadily refused.

Amongst other ecclesiastical acts of Julius II, we may mention here the revival of the constitutions of Boniface VIII, Pius II. and Innocent VIII forbidding persons appointed to benefices to exercise any rights of ecclesiastical jurisdiction or administration until they had received their Apostolic Letters; his ordinances against duelling; and for promoting devotion to S. Anne, the Holy House at Loreto,  the Passion of Christ, and the Blessed Sacrament; and the introduction of the Processes for the Canonisation of Bishop Benno of Meissen and S. Francis de Paula.

Another work of his which was of great value in enhancing the solemnity and beauty of the Divine Offices in S. Peter’s, was the endowment of the Papal Choir Chapel there, which from his time has in consequence been known as the Cappella Giulia. “The motives which induced Julius II to found the ‘Cappella Giulia’ were partly the desire not to depend on foreign talent, but to train native Romans as singers, and partly his wish to create a preliminary school in S. Peter’s for the Papal Chapel, and finally, in order to ensure that the offices in that great sanctuary should be performed in a manner befitting its dignity.”

From all these things it is clear that the reproach that Julius II was so absorbed in the building up of the external power of the Holy See as to pay hardly any attention to the internal affairs of the Church, is wholly unjust and untrue. But at the same time he cannot be exonerated from blame for having granted undue ecclesiastical concessions to various Governments under the pressure of political considerations. Such was the nomination of Cardinal d’Amboise as Legate for the whole of France in order to conciliate him and the King; the granting to the Spanish Government the patronage of all the churches in the West Indies, and to the King of Portugal the appointments to benefices in his kingdom. Concessions of a different kind, but many of them far from unobjectionable, were granted to Poland, Norway, Scotland, Savoy,and the Swiss. At the same time Julius II refused the extravagant demands of the Zurich Council, having warned the Swiss beforehand that though he was willing to grant them ecclesiastical privileges he could not go beyond what was right and fitting.

As regards questions of reform it has been already demonstrated that Julius was by no means inactive in individual cases, and especially in dealing with convents. He was far too clear-sighted not to be aware that much more than this was wanted. The reform of abuses in all departments of the Church, and especially in the Roman Court, was the primary task of the Lateran Council, as the Pope himself in June 1511, and again on other occasions, repeatedly declared. Previous to its opening in March 1512, Julius had nominated a Commission of eight Cardinals to deal specially with the reform of the Roman Court and its officials. On the 30th March, 1512, a Bull was issued, reducing the fees in various departments, and intended to check abuses practised by officials of the Court. The rest was to be settled by the Council. It is hardly fair to accuse Julius of indifference on this point, because he was interrupted by death just at the time that he was beginning to take the question seriously in hand. “It may, of course, be asked whether it would not have been better to have begun with the internal reformation of the Church, and then proceed to work for her external aggrandisement”. The answer is obvious. The conditions created by the Borgia were such that, before the new Pope could do anything else, it was absolutely necessary to secure some firm ground to stand upon. How could a powerless Pope, whose own life even was not secure, attempt to attack questions of reform in which so many conflicting interests were involved. Julius II saw plainly that his first official duty was the restoration of the States of the Church in order to secure the freedom and independence of the Holy See.

He was firmly convinced that no freedom in the Church was possible, unless she could secure an independent position, by means of her temporal possessions. On his death-bed he declared that the whole course of his reign had been so thickly strewn with anxieties and sorrows, that it had been a veritable martyrdom. This clearly proves that, as far as his wars were concerned, his conscience did not reproach him ; he had no doubt of this necessity, and his motives were honest and pure.

It is, however, objected, the Vicar of Christ should not be a warrior. This objection completely ignores the two­fold nature of the position created for the Papacy by its historical development. Ever since the 8th Century the Popes, besides being Vicars of Christ, had also been temporal princes. As such they were compelled, when necessary, to defend their rights against attacks, and to make use of arms for the purpose. During the course of the Middle Ages the great Popes were again and again placed in this predicament Even a Saint like Leo IX betook himself to his camp without scruple. Of course it is taken for granted that the war is a just one, and for purposes of defence and not of aggression. This was eminently the case in regard to the wars of Julius II. It is undeniable that when he ascended the Throne the rights of the States of the Church had been seriously violated, and that later the liberty of the Holy See was in the greatest danger from its enemies. At that time it was clearly a case of being “either anvil or hammer”. Thus it was possible for Julius II. not only openly to avow his intentions but also to maintain that his cause was just. The world of that day appreciated the recovery of the States of the Church as a noble and religious enterprise.

If the necessity of the temporal power is admitted, then the Head of the Church cannot be blamed for defending his rights with secular weapons; but of course this necessity is denied, and was denied, though only by a small number, even in his own day. Vettori maintains that in the interests of religion the ministers of the Church, including her Head, ought to be excluded from all temporal cares or authority over worldly things. The truth that the care and preservation of the States of the Church entails a danger of secularisation for the clergy lies at the root of this view. But though this danger exists, the perils and impossibilities for the Holy See and for the whole Church of the opposite situation are so great that no Pope would be justified in allowing her temporal possession to be taken away from her. Even such a man as Guicciardini, who on the whole in his judgment of Julius II. inclines to agree with Vettori, is found in another place to admit that, though in itself it would be a good thing if the Pope had no temporal sovereignty, still, the world being what it is, a powerless Head of the Church would be very likely to find himself seriously hampered in the exercise of his spiritual office, or indeed reduced to absolute impotence.

As a matter of fact this was a time in which no respect seemed to be paid to anything but material force, and the secular powers were striving on all sides to subjugate the Church to the State. Purely ecclesiastical questions were regarded merely as counters in the game of politics, and the Popes were obliged to consolidate their temporal possessions in order to secure for themselves a standing ground from which they could defend their spiritual authority. As practical politicians they thought and acted in accordance with the views of one of the speakers at the Council of Basle, who made this remarkable confession: “I used formerly often to agree with those who thought it would be better if the Church were deprived of all temporal power. I fancied that the priests of the Lord would be better fitted to celebrate the divine mysteries, and that the Princes of the world would be more ready to obey them. Now, however, I have found out that virtue without power will only be mocked, and that the Roman Pope without the patrimony of the Church would be a mere slave of the Kings and Princes.” Such a position appeared intolerable to Julius II. Penetrated with the conviction that, in order to rule the Church with independence, the Pope must be his own master in a territory of his own, he set himself with his whole soul to the task of putting a stop to the dismemberment of the temporal possessions of the Holy See and saving the Church from again falling under the domination of France, and he succeeded. Though he was unable to effect the complete liberation of Italy, still the crushing yoke of France was cast off, the independence and unity of the Church was saved, and her patrimony, which he had found almost entirely dispersed, was restored and enlarged. “The kingdom of S. Peter now included the best and richest portion of Italy, and the Papacy had become the centre of gravity of the peninsula and, indeed, of the whole political world.” “Formerly,” says Machiavelli, “ the most insignificant of the Barons felt himself at liberty to defy the Papal power; now it commands the respect of a King of France”. The great importance of this achievement was made evident later in the terrible season of storm and stress which the Holy See had to pass through. If it would be too much to say that without its temporal possessions the Papacy could never have weathered those storms,§ it is quite certain that, without the solid support which it derived from the reconstitution of the States of the Church, it is impossible to calculate to what straits it might not have been reduced; possibly it might have been forced again to take refuge in the Catacombs. It was the heroic courage and energy of Julius II., which Michael Angelo thought worthy of being symbolised in his colossal Moses, which saved the world and the Church from some such catastrophe as this.

Thus, though Julius II cannot be called an ideal Pope, he is certainly one of the greatest since Innocent III. No impartial historian can deny that Julius II in all his undertakings displayed a violence and want of moderation that was far from becoming in a Pope. He was a genuine child of the South, impulsive, passionate, herculean in his strength; but possibly in such a stormy period as was the beginning of the 16th Century some such personality as his was needed to be the “Saviour of the Papacy”. This honourable title has been bestowed upon him by one who is not within the pale of the Catholic Church, and no one will be inclined to dispute it There still remains, however, another point of view from which Julius II. is a marked figure in the history of the world. He was the restorer not only of the States of the Church, but was also one of the greatest among the Papal patrons of the Arts.

CHAPTER VIII.

Julius II as the Patron of the Arts.—The Rebuilding of S. Peter’s and the Vatican.—Bramante as the Architect of Julius II.—The Sculpture Gallery in the Belvedere at the Vatican.—Discoveries of Antique Remains.—Building in the States of the Church.—The Glories of the New Rome created by Julius II.

Nothing so impresses on the mind the sense of the real greatness of the Pontiff who occupied the Chair of S. Peter from the year 1503, as the amount of attention that he found time to bestow on Art. When we consider the incessant and harassing anxieties, both political and ecclesiastical, and all the labours of his reign, the quantity and quality of what he left behind him in Rome and elsewhere in this respect are really amazing. At the beginning of the 16th Century, Rome, representing as she did the art of antiquity, the Middle Ages and the Renaissance, was already the most beautiful and interesting city in the world. But it is to the patron of Bramante, Michael Angelo, and Raphael, to the Pope who, even as a Cardinal, was such a generous friend of artists, that she owes the proud position that she now holds of being the ideal centre of aesthetic beauty for all its devotees throughout the whole world. It was under his rule that the foundations were laid for most of those magnificent creations of architecture, sculpture, and painting which constitute by no means the smallest part .of the magic charm of the Eternal City, and are a source of neverending delight to both thinkers and poets.

The aspirations of Julius II were in perfect accordance with those of his great predecessors Nicholas V and Sixtus IV. He took up their work where they left it, and continued on the same lines. He too aimed at embodying the religious, regal, and universal spirit of the Papacy in monu­mental works of architecture, sculpture, and painting, and vindicating the intellectual supremacy of the Church, by making Rome the centre of aesthetic development for the great Renaissance movement. As with Nicholas V., family or personal aggrandisement was nothing to him. The fruit of all his wars was to be reaped not by his relations but by the Church; and equally all that “he did for Art was done for the honour of the Church and the Papacy.” Thus, though under Julius II Roman, like all Italian art was under the patronage of a Court, the spirit of that patronage was wholly different from anything which prevailed elsewhere. The importance for art of these a Courts of the Muses consisted not so much in their character, as a rule, as in their number. The encouragement of art and of artistic culture in general was merely an essential part of a princely style of living. In contrast to this, the artist in Rome at the Court of Julius II. was called upon to bear a part in the realisation, if only for a few years, of a magnificent dream, the perfect fusion of two ages, the antique and the Christian, into one harmonious whole. Bramante’s S. Peter’s, Michael Angelo’s ceiling in the Sistine, Raphael’s frescoes in the Stanze, all devoted to the idealisation of Christian worship and doctrine and the supremacy of the Vicar of Christ, are the undying mem

In spite, however, of the close resemblance in their aims there is a considerable difference between the spirit of Nicholas V and that of Julius II. While Nicholas V. patron­ised learning quite as much as art, with Julius even more than with Sixtus IV. art was the chief interest. And in his patronage of art he also displayed the true Rovere spirit, confining his plans to what was possible and practicable, and not giving the reins to his imagination to the extent that his two predecessors had done. Splendid as his projects were, he undertook nothing without providing ample means for carrying out his plans.

It is undeniable that Julius II was singularly happy in the time in which he lived, which produced such men as those whose services he was able to command. But this does not lessen his merit. He deserves lasting honour for his sympathetic appreciation of their genius, which enabled him to attract them to Rome, and to stimulate their powers to the utmost by the kind of work which he demanded from them—nothing small or trivial, but monumental creations corresponding to the largeness of his own nature. Thus, the great masters found free scope for their genius in all its fulness, and nascent talent was fostered and developed. The home of Art was transferred from Florence to Rome. A world of beauty in architecture, painting, and the plastic art sprang up in the ancient city, and the name of Julius II became inseparably united with those of the divinely gifted men in whom Italian art attained its meridian glory. “He began, and others went on with the work on the foundation which he had laid. The initiative was his; in reality the age of Leo X. belongs to him.” It was through him that Rome became the classical city of the world, the normal centre of European culture, and the Papacy the pioneer of civilisation.

The resemblance between the spirit of Julius II and that of Nicholas V is most apparent in his architectural undertakings. The laying out of new streets and districts, the enlargement of the Vatican Palace, and the erection of the new Church of S. Peter, works which had been inter­rupted by the premature death of Nicholas V. were energetically resumed by him.

The Florentine architect, Giuliano da Sangallo, was one of Julius II’s most intimate and congenial friends in his earlier days while he was still only a Cardinal. It was he who planned the magnificent structure of Grottaferrata, the buildings at Ostia, and the Palace at Savona. Giuliano shared his patron’s voluntary banishment during the reign of Alexander V., and during this time (1494) was introduced by the Cardinal to the French King, Charles VIII. It was not to be wondered at, therefore, if when Julius II became Pope, Sangallo soon appeared in Rome to recall himself to the memory of his old master, and to offer his services. He was first employed on some repairs in the Castle of St Angelo, which the troubled times made urgently necessary, and on the 30th of May, 1504, he received an instalment of pay for this work, to be completed later by a larger sum. After this, Julius continued to make use of him in various ways; in 1505 he made a drawing for a tribune for musicians (Cantoria), and he seems to have been the Pope’s chief adviser at this time in all matters of art It was through him in the Spring of the year 1505 that Michael Angelo and Andrea Sansovino were invited to Rome. Sansovino was called upon to erect a monumental tomb to Cardinal Ascanio Sforza in Su Maria del Popolo; Michael Angelo’s task was a tomb for the Pope himself. The plan which the great sculptor drew, and which Julius approved, was of such colossal dimensions that no church in Rome, not excepting the old S. Peter’s, could contain it Later, it was thought that the tribune begun by Rossellino for the new church of S. Peter might be adapted to receive this monument. But this had first to be finished and connected with the old building; and thus the work fell into the hands of the architects. At this moment the great master appeared on the scene to whom from henceforth almost all Julius II’s architectural works were to be entrusted. This man was Donato Bramante, who had been working and studying in Rome since the year 1500.

In affording to “the most original architect of his time” the opportunity of putting forth all his powers, Julius II rendered an inestimable service to Art. Bramante very soon came to occupy the position of a sort of minister of public works and fine arts at the Papal Court; apartments in the Belvedere were assigned to him, as well as to the famous goldsmith, Caradosso; the great architect accompanied Julius in all his journeys and planned all his fortifications; to him was entrusted the rebuilding of the Vatican and of the church of S. Peter, in which a suitable site was to be provided for the Pope’s tomb.

It is impossible to determine with certainty when Julius II adopted the plans for the new S. Peter’s. A writer on architecture, who has made the study of the plans and projects for the church the special task of his life, believes that the design of rebuilding S. Peter’s occupied the Pope’s mind in connection with the restoration of the Vatican Palace as early as 1503. This would quite correspond with what we know of the character of the new Pope; but as yet we have no contemporaneous testimony to support this view, and the extremely constrained and difficult position in which Julius found himself at the outset of his reign is against the probability of his having immediately contemplated such a work as this, though, considering his sanguine temperament, this would have been far from impossible. It is not till the year 1505 that unmistakeable signs appear that the thought of the new S. Peter’s and its adjuncts had taken root in his mind. According to Vasari the deliberations preliminary to the work constituted a sort of duel between the Umbrian and Lombard tendencies of Bramante and the Florentine spirit represented by Sangallo and his protege Michael Angelo. It is not unlikely that there is some truth in this statement, as Vasari knew the son of Giuliano da Sangallo intimately; but, on the other hand, this author is often confused and inaccurate. However this may be, it appears certain that as soon as Julius II saw Bramante’s magnificent plan for S. Peter’s, he determined to put the work into his hands; while everything else, even his own tomb, retreated into the background. Even for S. Peter’s alone on this scale the means at his disposal were not sufficient. “And knowing his disposition, no one can be surprised that S. Peter’s was the work that lay nearest to the Pope’s heart. His preference even in Art was always for the colossal. Magnarum semper moliurn avidus was said of him, and though Michael Angelo’s design must have satisfied him in that respect, the tomb was only for himself, whereas the magnificent Basilica would be a glory for the whole Church. For Julius the larger aim, whether for State or Church, was always more attractive than anything that was merely personal.”

In the history of the building of S. Peter’s in the time of Julius II there are three distinct periods. The first idea (March, 1505) was to build a Chapel for the Pope’s tomb. In the second period (before nth April, 1505) the completion of the works commenced by Nicholas V and Paul II was contemplated ; in the third (from the Summer of that year) it was finally determined that the building should be on entirely new lines, far more splendid and more beautiful. Even then, however, the idea of making use of the buildings already commenced by former Popes was not abandoned, and the attempt was frequently made, but they were only utilised in a fragmentary way as portions of a wholly new design. The immense number of drawings for S. Peter’s which are still extant, shew with what energy the work was undertaken. Some of these were executed by Bramante himself, then sixty years old; many others, from his instruc­tions, by artists working under him; amongst these were the youthful Baldassari Peruzzi and Antonio da Sangallo.

For a long time all that was known on the subject was that the outline of Bramante’s plan was a commanding central dome resting on a Greek Cross, with four smaller domes in the four angles. It is only quite recently that modern research has eliminated out of the immense mass of materials afforded by the collection of sketches in the Uffizzi at Florence (about 9000 sheets), a series of studies and plans for S. Peter’s, from which Bramante’s original design can be determined. With these sketches before us we begin to realise what the world has lost by the later changes in what, as originally conceived, would have been an artistic creation of perfectly ideal majesty and beauty.

The new Basilica, “which was to take the place of a building teeming with venerable memories, was to em­body the greatness of the present and the future,” and was to surpass all other churches in the world in its proportions and in its splendour. The mausoleum of the poor fisherman of the Lake of Genesareth was to represent the dignity and significance, in its history and in its scope, of the office which he had bequeathed to his successors. The idea of the Universal Church demanded a colossal edifice, that of the Papacy an imposing centre, therefore its main feature must be a central dome of such proportions as to dominate the whole structure. This, Bramante thought, could be best attained by a ground­plan in the form of a Greek Cross with the great dome in the centre, over the tomb of the Apostles. In the old Basilica, however, the tomb was at the end of the church, and this created difficulties which led to the adoption at first of a Latin Cross. Bramante’s contemporaries were enthusiastic in their admiration of his design, and the poets of the day sang of it as the ninth wonder of the world. Bramante is said to have himself described his design as the Pantheon reared on the substructure of the Temple of Peace in the Forum (Constantine’s Basilica); a truly noble thought, worthy of the great architect and his large-minded patron.

Two complete drawings, which are still preserved, exhibit Bramante’s plan in detail; it consisted of a Greek Cross with apsidal ends and a huge cupola in the centre on the model of the Pantheon, surrounded by four smaller domes; pillared aisles led into the central space. In one design the arms of the cross are enclosed in large semicircular ambulatories; in the other these do not appear. They may be a reminiscence of the very ancient Christian Church of San Lorenzo in Milan, which was justly very much admired by Bramante, or they may have been intended to strengthen the great pillars which supported the cupola. In both designs the dome is of colossal proportions. “Bramante, borrowing the idea from older structures, designed with admirable effect immense niches corresponding with the pillars, which would also ingeniously serve to suggest the curved outline for all spaces which is the predominant form in the whole scheme of building. The four smaller cupolas in the corners, the diameters of which are half that of the central dome, by dimming the light, were to prepare the eye for the vast central space ; on the exterior, as Caradosso’s medal soews, they were not to rise above the gabled roofing of the arms of the Cross.” Four sacristies and chapels and bell-towers were to be distributed around the external angles. As this plan appears upon Caradosso’s medals it must have been for some time the accepted one. The other plan, in which the arms of the Cross were encased in spacious ambulatories, would have occupied a still larger area. Here the drum of the central dome would have been encircled with pillars forming a crown over the tomb of the Apostles, which would have been bathed in light from the dome. The victory of Christianity over Paganism was to be represented by the Cross on the summit of the most beautiful creation of antique architecture.

The colossal dimensions of this majestic though singu­larly simple design, aptly symbolising the world-wide fold into which all the nations of the earth were to be gathered, will be realised when we find that Bramante’s plan would have covered an area of over 28,900 square yards, while the present church on the plan of Michael Angelo, without Maderna’s additions, occupies only a little more than 17,300, more than a third less.

There is, however, one consideration which mars the pleasure with which we should otherwise contemplate Bramante’s splendid conception, and this is the regretful recollection that its realisation involved the sacrifice of one of the oldest and most venerable sanctuaries in all Christendom. “These ancient walls had been standing for nearly 1200 years; they had, so to speak, participated in all the fortunes and storms of the Papacy; they had witnessed the rapid succession of its triumphs, its humiliations, and its recoveries; and again and again been the scene of epoch-making events, focussed in Rome, and stretching in their effects to the furthest limits of Christendom. The Vatican Basilica was scored all over with mementos of this long history. Though now falling to pieces and disfigured by the traces of the debased art of the period of its origin, it was an imposing building, and far more interesting from its age-worn tokens of the victory of Christianity over Paganism, than it could have been in the days of its pristine splendour. All that might be distasteful in the inharmonious jumble of its styles and materials was forgotten in retracing the ever-living memorials which recalled the times of Constantine, of S. Leo and S. Gregory the Great, Charles the Great, and Otho, S. Gregory VII, Alexander III, Innocent III”.

This was strongly felt by many of Bramante’s contemporaries, as it had been when the rebuilding of S. Peter’s was contemplated in the time of Nicholas V, which we see from the words of the Christian humanist, Maffeo Vegio. This time the opposition was even more serious, as nearly the whole of the Sacred College seems to have pronounced against the plan. Panvinius reports that people of all classes, and especially the Cardinals, protested against Julius II’s intention of pulling down the old S. Peter’s. They would have gladly welcomed the erection of a new and splendid church; but the complete destruction of the old Basilica, so consecrated by the veneration of the whole world, the tombs of so many saints, and the memorials of so many great events, went to their hearts.

The opposition to the rebuilding of S. Peter’s continued even after the death of Julius II. In the year 1517 Andrea Guarna of Salerno published a satirical Dialogue between S. Peter, Bramante, and the Bolognese Alessandro Zambeccari. Bramante arrives at the gates of Heaven and S. Peter asks if he is the man who had demolished his church. Zambeccari replies in the affirmative, and adds, “He would have destroyed Rome also and the whole world if he had been able”. S. Peter asks Bramante what could have induced him to pull down his church in Rome, which by its age alone spoke of God to the most unbelieving. The architect excuses himself by saying that it was not he who pulled it down but the workmen at the command of Pope Julius. “No,” answers S. Peter, “that will not serve, it was you who persuaded the Pope to take down the church, it was at your instigation and by your orders that the workmen did it How could you dare?”. Bramante replies, “I wanted to lighten the Pope’s heavy purse a little”. On S. Peter inquiring further whether he had carried out his design, he answers, “No I Julius II pulled down the old church, but he kept his purse closed; he only gave Indulgences, and besides he was making war”. Further on, the conversation becomes broader and more farcical. Bramante refuses to enter Heaven unless he is allowed to get rid of the “steep and difficult way that leads thither from the earth. I will build a new broad and commodious road so that old and feeble souls may travel on horseback. And then I will make a new Paradise with delightful residences for the blessed.” As S. Peter will not consent to this, Bramante declares he will go down to Pluto and build a new hell as the old one is almost burnt out. In the end S. Peter asks him again, “Tell me seriously, what made you destroy my church? ” Bramante answers, “Alas! it is demolished, but Pope Leo will build a new one.” “Well, then,” says S. Peter, you must wait at the gate of Paradise until it is finished.” “But if it never is finished?” Bramante objects. “Oh,” S. Peter answers, “my Leo will not fail to get it done.” “I must hope so,” Bramante replies; “at any rate, I seem to have no alternative but to wait.”

Julius II. s still often blamed for having allowed the old church to be destroyed, but whether the reproach is just seems very doubtful. If even under Nicholas V the old Basilica had become so unsafe that in 1451 the Pope could say it was in danger of falling—and we have trustworthy testimony to this effect—no doubt its condition must have been considerably worse in the reign of Julius II. In the well-known letter to the King of England on the laying of the foundation-stone of the new S. Peter’s, the Pope distinctly asserts that the old church was in a ruinous condi­tion, and this statement is repeated in a whole series of other Briefs. The inscription on the foundation-stone also supports this opinion. Well-informed contemporaneous writers, such as Lorenzo Parmino, Custodian of the Vatican Library, and Sigismondo de’ Conti, say the same. It seems, therefore, that he cannot be accused of having wilfully pulled down the old Basilica.

Considering what the plans of the Pope and his architect were, it was clear that the rebuilding of S. Peter’s would be very costly, and on the 10th of November, 1505, Julius commanded that the property left by a certain Monserati de Guda should be set apart for the building of S. Peter’s. This is the first authentic document which shows that the work had been practically begun. On the 6th of January, 1506, Julius wrote to the King of England and also to the nobility and Bishops of that country begging them to help him in this great undertaking. A money order for Bramante for the payment of five sub-architects is dated 6th April, 1506; on the 18th the Briefs announcing the laying of the foundation-stone by the Pope himself were sent out. At this time Julius II was preparing for the campaign against Perugia and Bologna. It is certainly a striking proof of the courage and energy of Julius II that at his advanced age, and in the face of such arduous political undertakings, he should have had no hesitation in putting his hand to a work of such magnitude as this.

We have two accounts of the laying of the foundation­stone, which took place on “Low Sunday” (18th April} in the year 1506; one is by Burchard, the other by Paris de Grassis. The Pope, accompanied by the Cardinals and Prelates and preceded by the Cross, went down in solemn procession to the edge of the excavation for the foundation, which was 25 feet deep. Only the Pope with two Cardinal-deacons, some masons, and one or two other persons entered it. Someone who is called a medallist, probably Caradosso, brought twelve medals in an earthen pot, two large gold ones worth 50 ducats; the others were of bronze. On one side was stamped the head of Julius II, and on the other a representation of the new Church. The foundation-stone was of white marble, about four palms in length, two in breadth, and three fingers in thickness. It bore an inscription declaring that Pope Julius II. of Liguria, in the year 1506, the third of his reign, restored this Basilica, which had fallen into decay. After the Pope had blessed the stone he set it with his own hands, while the masons placed the vessel with the medals under­neath it The ceremony concluded with the solemn Papal benediction, a prayer before the crucifix, and the granting of a Plenary Indulgence, which was announced in Latin by Cardinal Colonna. After this the Pope returned to the Vatican.

Entries of disbursements in April 1506, shew that 7500 ducats were paid at that time to five contractors for the building of S. Peter’s. These, as well as other sums, all passed through Bramante’s hands, who signed the agreements with the builders in the Pope’s name. Hitherto, no entry of any payment to Bramante for his own services has been found, although he undoubtedly acted as master of the works. He employed by preference Tuscan architects, and pushed on the work with energy. Sigismondo de’ Conti’s statement that the building made but slow progress, not owing to want of funds, but from Bramante’s supineness is unsupported by any other writer. It may possibly be due to personal spite It comes from one who knew nothing of architecture, and is contradicted by authentic documents. It is quite possible that the work may have flagged to a certain extent in the year 1506, but not from any fault of Bramante, who, by the Pope’s orders, accompanied his master to Bologna. A document in the Secret Archives of the Vatican, dated 15th December, 1506, and hitherto unknown, shews with what anxious care Julius strove to guard against any interruption in the progress of the building during his absence in that city. Many proofs are extant of the diligence with which it was prosecuted from the moment the Pope returned to Rome. In March, 1507, Giuliano di Giovanni, Francesco del Toccio, and others were at work on the capitals of the pillars of the new Basilica. On the 7th of April the Modenese Envoy reports that the Pope is delighted with the new building and visits it frequently; it is evident that the completion of this work is one of the things that lie nearest to his heart. On the 12th, he writes, “Today the Pope went to S. Peter’s to inspect the work. I was there also. The Pope brought Bramante with him, and said smilingly to me, ‘Bramante tells me that he has 2500 men at work; one might hold a review of such an army.’ I replied that one could indeed compare such a band with an army, and expressed my admiration of the building, as was becoming. Presently, Cardinals Farnese, Carvajal, and Fiesco came up, and the Pope granted them their audience without leaving the spot.” This report is in flat contradiction with Sigismondo de’ Conti’s statement. So far from idling over the work, Bramante can hardly be acquitted of the charge of vandalism in the ruthless haste with which he tore down the venerable old church.

It is certainly startling to find that apparently no expert was consulted, and no attempt made to find out whether it might not still be possible to retain and repair the old Basilica. We should have expected that before proceeding to destroy so venerable a sanctuary the opinion of some unbiassed person, not included in the circle of the enter­prising architects eager for the fray, should have been sought, as to what could be done in the way of preserving at any rate some portion of the ancient building. We find no trace of any such attempt, and probably this is due to the extravagant admiration of the votaries of the Renaissance for their new style of architecture which led them to look down with utter contempt on all the productions of the preceding periods. From this point of view Sigismondo de’ Conti’s account of the rebuilding of S. Peter’s is singularly significant. Christian humanist as he was, he betrays not the smallest trace of reverence for, or interest in, the Basilica of Constantine. Although he calls the ancient building grand and majestic, he adds immediately that it was erected in an uncultured age, which had no idea of elegance or beauty in architecture.

But what was still more inexcusable was that no inventory should have been taken of the inestimably precious memories which it contained, and also the way in which these venerable relics were treated. In truth, the men of the Renaissance had as little sense of reverence for the past as those of the Middle Ages; not that they had any desire to break with the past; this would have been in complete contradiction to the whole spirit of the Papacy, for which more than for any other power in the world, the past, the present, and the future are bound together in an indissoluble union; but the passion for the new style stifled all interest in the monuments of former days. In his strong consciousness of power, Bramante was more reckless than any of the other architects of his day in regard to ancient memorials, or even the creations of the centuries immediately preceding his own time. His contemporaries reproached him with this. Paris de Grassis says he was called the destroyer, “Ruinante”, because of his merciless destructiveness in Rome, as well as in other places for instance, in Loreto. Michael Angelo complained to Julius II, and later, Raphael made similar representations to Leo X in regard to Bramante’s barbarism in knocking to pieces the noble ancient pillars in the old church, which might so easily have been preserved if they had been carefully taken down. Artistic merit was no more regarded than antiquity, and Mino’s beautiful later monuments, and even the tomb of Nicholas V, the first of the Papal Maecenas, were broken to pieces, together with those of the older Popes. There can be no excuse for such vandalism as this. Attempts have been made to lay the blame on the carelessness of the Papal Maggiordomo Bartolomeo Ferrantini, or on the sub-architects. No doubt, Ferrantini and Julius himself are partially responsible, but it is in consequence of Bramante’s ruthless methods that Christendom and the Papacy have been robbed of so many venerable and touching memorials. Those which are preserved in the Crypt and the Vatican Grottos, far from exculpating him, only bear witness to the extent of his guilt This magazine of defaced and dismembered monuments, altars, ciboriums, which formerly adorned the atrium, the porticos and the nave of the old Basilica, are the clearest proof of the barbarous vandalism which began under Julius II, and continued until the completion of S. Peter’s.

If we may believe Aegidius of Viterbo, who is usually well-informed, and was a contemporary, Bramante’s destructive spirit actually carried him so far as to lead him to propose to move the Tomb of the Apostles. Here, however, Julius II, usually so ready to lend himself to all the great architect’s plans, stood firm, and absolutely refused to permit any tampering with a shrine which, through all the changes during the centuries which had elapsed since the days of Constantine, had been preserved untouched on the spot where he erected it. Aegidius narrates in detail the efforts made by Bramante to overcome the Pope’s objections. He wanted to make the new Church face southwards, instead of to the east, as the old one had done, in order to have the Vatican Obelisk, which stood in the Circus of Nero on the south side of the Basilica, fronting the main entrance of the new Church. Julius II would not consent to this plan, saying that Shrines must not be displaced. Bramante, however, persisted in his project. He expatiated on the admirable suggestiveness of placing this majestic memorial of the First Caesars in the Court of the new S. Peter’s of Julius II, and on the effect that the sight of this colossal monument would have in stimulating religious awe in the minds of those who were about to enter the church. He promised to effect the removal of the tomb in such a manner that it should be impossible that it should be injured in any way. But Julius II, however, turned a deaf ear to all his arguments and blandishments, and assured him that he would never, under any pretext, permit the tomb of the first Pope to be touched. As to the Obelisk, Bramante might do what he pleased with that. His view was that Christianity must be preferred to Paganism, religion to splendour, piety to ornament.

In addition to this most interesting conversation between Julius II and Bramante, we have other proofs that in all their undertakings, religious interests, and not his own glory, held the first place in his mind. One such is the Rule of 19th February, 1513, on the Cappella Giulia, which was the last official document issued by him before his death. In it he sums up the reasons which led him to found this institution. “We hold it to be our duty,” he says, “to promote the solemnity of religious worship by example as well as by precept. While yet a Cardinal we partly restored and partly rebuilt many churches and convents in various places, and especially in Rome. Since our elevation to the Chair of S. Peter we have endeavoured to be more diligent and liberal in such works in proportion to our larger duties and responsibilities. The wise King Solomon, although the light of Christianity had not dawned upon him, thought no sacrifice too great to make in order to build a worthy House for the Lord of Hosts. Our predecessors also were zealous for the beauty and dignity of the sanctuary. This was especially the case with our Uncle, Sixtus IV., now resting in the Lord. Nothing lay nearer to his heart than to provide for the majesty of the Offices of the Church and the splendour of God’s House.” The Pope desired to follow in his foot­steps.

On the 16th of April, 1507, Enrico Bruni, Archbishop of Tarento, laid the foundation-stones of the three other pillars of the Dome. Various entries of payments and contracts, though, unfortunately, scanty and unconnected, mark the progress of the work. On the 24th of August, a Roman, Menico Antonio di Jacopo, undertook a contract for some capitals of pillars, and in another document, which only bears the date of the year 1507, the same sculptor joins with Giuliano del Tozzo, Franco, Paolo Mancino, Vincenzio da Viterbo and Bianchino, in an agreement for executing the capitals of the pillars and the balcony on the outside of the Tribune, and the cornice inside, after Bramante’s designs. A contract with Francesco di Domenico of Milan, Antonio di Giacomo of Pontasieve and Benedetto di Giovanni Albini of Rome for the capitals of the large pilasters in the interior is dated 1st March, I508. In August 1508, the Venetian Envoy reports an unsuccessful attempt on the part of the Pope to obtain the fourth part of the tithes granted by him to the King of Spain for the building of S. Peter’s. In December, the same Envoy mentions the zeal of the Pope for this great work.|There are no accounts of the year 1509. On the 16th January, 1510, Antonio di Sangallo received 200 ducats for preparing the centering for the arches of the Cupola. A similar payment is again entered on the 15th November.

Julius II was unwearied in his efforts to obtain funds for the building. A portion of the revenue of the Holy House at Loreto was assigned to this purpose, and commissioners were appointed everywhere for the collection of charitable gifts with power to grant Indulgences on the usual condi­tions to all contributors. How large the sums thus obtained were, may be gathered from the report of the Venetian Envoy who says that one lay-brother alone brought back from his journey 27,000 ducats. Even then, in April 1510, it was plain that a long time must elapse before the work could be completed. It was no doubt a beautiful thought that the whole of Christendom should bear a part in the erection of a worthy shrine for the Princes of the Apostles, but considering the hostile feeling in many places in regard to all such collections, and the bitter opponents who were always ready to misrepresent everything that the Popes did, there were serious objections to the attempt to carry it out. When Julius II became involved in the great conflict with France it was asserted by many that money collected for the Church was spent in the war. When the pressure was very great this may have been the case; in the year 1511, a slackening in the work is observable; still even in that year there are entries of payments, and the Venetian Envoy’s Report in August 1511 shows that even in the most trying times Julius II. never forgot his Church.* The very last document to which the Pope put his hand, the day before he died, testifies to his zeal in this work.

The disbursements for the payment of contractors and overseers for the works of S. Peter’s in the time of Julius II, amount, according to the Papal registers, to 70,653 gold ducats, not too large a sum compared with those of succeeding Popes. In the period between the 22nd December, 1529 and the 2nd January, 1543, the building cost 89,727 scudi, and from the 9th January, 1543, to the 25th February, 1549, 160,774 scudi.

When Julius died, the four pillars for the Cupola, each of which was more than 100 paces in circumference at the base, with their connecting arches, were finished. These were strengthened by the introduction of cast-iron centerings, a method which Bramante had rediscovered. The choir, begun under Nicholas V.by Bernardo Rosselino, was utilised by Bramante in part for the posterior walls of the transept and in part for a choir, which, however, was only meant to be a provisional one. Besides these, the tribunes for the nave had been begun and an enclosure adorned with Doric pillars for the Pope and his Court at High Mass, which was finished later by Peruzzi, but eventually done away with. The high altar and the tribune of the old church were still in existence at that time, but by All Saints’ Day in 1511, the solemn masses were celebrated in the Sistine chapel, and no longer in the old church.

Bramante had drawn out a wonderful design for the rebuilding of the Vatican Palace as well as for the church of S. Peter’s. Here too, the plan, for both precincts and Palace, was practically a new building, but the death of Julius II. interrupted it Still even then, what had been accomplished was so important that even in 1509 Albertini could say “Your Holiness has already made more progress with the Vatican than all your predecessors together have done in the last hundred years.”

Bramante’s genius was not less admirable in secular architecture than in sacred. Everyone knows the famous Cortile di Damaso. The design for this building, which so marvellously combines dignity in composition with exquisite grace and delicacy in detail, was his, though it was only executed in Raphael’s time, and part of it even later.

A further project, and one that could only have come into such a mind as that of Julius II, was to connect the old Vatican Palace, a mere heterogeneous aggregation of houses, with the Belvedere situated on the rise of the hill about 100 paces higher up. Bramante drew a magnificent plan for this. In it two straight corridors lead from the old Palace to the Belvedere. The space between them, measuring about 327 yards by 70, was divided in two; the part next the Palace (now the great lower Court) was to form the arena of a theatre for tournaments or bull-fights; from thence, a broad flight of steps led up to a terrace and from x that again a massive double staircase ascended to the upper half, which was laid out as a garden (now the Giardino della Pigna). The two long sides of the theatre were broken by three Loggie, while the lower narrow side was occupied by a semi-circular amphitheatre for the spectators. The two upper Loggie joined the long sides of the garden above the terrace; its narrow end was closed by a colossal niche roofed with a half-dome and crowned by a semi-circular course of pillars and facing the amphitheatre. It was a design which, had it been carried out, would certainly have been unrivalled in the whole world. Although the work was energetically begun, the only portion that had been completed when Julius II. died was the eastern gallery. Later, so many alterations and additions were made that the original plan is hardly recognisable. It was Sixtus V who cut the large Court in two by building the Vatican Library across it. The effect of the whole design was completely destroyed by this, and also that of the great niche which now looks monstrous, not having sufficient foreground. He also walled up the open Loggie. The long corridor, commanding an exquisite view of Rome and the Campagna, is now used to contain the Vatican collection of Christian and ancient inscriptions. Under Pius VII. the Braccio Nuovo was built parallel with the Library to serve as a museum.

The extension and embellishment of the Belvedere was another of the works undertaken by Bramante to improve and put the Papal residence “into shape,” as Vasari expresses it. A new two-storied façade was added to the whole building, looking southwards towards the garden, and having for its centre the gigantic niche already mentioned, which is about 80 feet high. From its exposed situation the Belvedere was often called the tower of the winds (Tor de venti). Adjoining the Belvedere, on the eastern side, was the tower-shaped hall through which Bramante’s famous pillared spiral staircase led into the rampart garden. Baths and aviaries were also added to this building and decorated with views of all the principal cities in Italy.

The Belvedere was destined soon to contain the most splendid collection of ancient sculptures the world then possessed. Julius II was an ardent collector, and the nucleus was formed out of the numerous Roman remains which were discovered during his reign. No doubt, by the middle of the 15th Century Rome was already rich in ancient statues, but in Poggio’s time only five of these had been publicly erected. Paul II’s valuable collection of antique gems, vases, etc., had been dispersed at his death. Sixtus IV opened a museum of antique art in the Capitol, which was the first public collection of this kind in Italy, and, indeed, in Europe. It consisted for the most part of large bronzes. Innocent VIII added some newly-found works in brass and the colossal head of Commodus. The example of Sixtus IV at first does not seem to have found any imitators. “During the lifetime of this Pope very few in Rome seem to have taken any interest in the larger ancient marble sculptures, or made any attempt to form collections; whereas at the same period in Florence, where the opportunities were so much fewer, the famous Medicean gallery had long been in existence. It was not till the close of the 15th Century that the feeling for ancient sculpture awoke in Rome, but once started in such a fruitful soil it naturally developed rapidly”,

As Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, the Pope was a diligent collector. In the time of Innocent VIII apparently he succeeded in obtaining a newly discovered statue of Apollo, which he placed in the garden of S. Pietro in Vincoli. It created quite a furore amongst all lovers of art, and soon acquired a worldwide reputation.

When he became Pope he transferred the statue to the Vatican and placed it in the Cortile di Belvedere. This Cortile about 100 feet square, was laid out as a garden with orange trees and running streamlets. Bramante designed semi-circular niches for the statues which adorned it. Besides the Apollo, an incomplete group, Antaeus in the grasp of Hercules, and the Venus Felix, were placed here.

In the year 1506, a fresh discovery added another treasure to these marbles which, in the eyes of the art-lovers of that day, surpassed everything that had as yet been known. This was the Laocoon which was found in a vineyard belonging to a Roman citizen, Felice de’ Freddi. The vineyard was situated in the so called baths of Titus, which later proved such a veritable mine of art treasures. It was discovered on the 14th of January in that year, not far from the water-tower of the Sette Sale. The moment the Pope heard of it he sent Giuliano da Sangallo to see it. Michael Angelo and Giuliano’s son, a boy of nine, accompanied him. The latter says: “We then set off together, I on my father’s shoulders. Directly my father saw the statue he exclaimed ‘this is the Laocoon mentioned by Pliny;’ the opening had to be enlarged to get the statue out”.

The Pope had several rivals also desirous of purchasing the treasure, but finally on the 23rd of March, 1506, a few weeks before the laying of the foundation-stone of S. Peter’s, he succeeded in obtaining it. The finder and his son Federigo received in exchange for their lifetimes a charge on the tolls of the Porta S. Giovanni to the amount of 600 gold ducats annually.

The Laocoon was installed in a niche in the Belvedere. It inspired the greatest enthusiasm in Rome: “it was felt to be the most perfect embodiment of the life and spirit of the ancient world that had yet been seen. It and the Apollo became from henceforth the most admired and most popular of works of art”.

While Sadolet and other poets sang the praises of the Laocoon in their lyrics the influence it exerted on the minds of contemporary artists was striking and important. Michael Angelo’s painting of the execution of Haman on the roof of the Sistine was evidently inspired by this group. In Raphael’s Parnassus in the Camera della Segnatura there is a suggestion of the Laocoon in the head of Homer, and other figures in the same fresco are also taken from antique models. Bramante commissioned several sculptors to make models in wax of the Laocoon for the mould of a copy to be executed in brass ; he appointed Raphael judge of the competition; the young Jacopo Sansovino was awarded the palm. Federigo Gonzaga asked the famous goldsmith, Caradossa, to copy the Laocoon for him. Another interesting point about this group is that it was  the subject of the first attempt at antiquarian criticism.” The question arose whether Pliny’s assertion that it had been carved out of a single block of marble was true. Michael Angelo and Cristoforo Romano, “the first sculptors in Rome,” were asked to decide the point. They found that it consisted of several pieces and showed four joints in it, but so skilfully concealed that it was not surprising that Pliny should not have remarked them.

Hardly less interest was aroused by the discovery of another antique group, Hercules with the infant Telephus on his arm, which was found in May 1507 in the Campo di Fiore. The Pope lost no time in securing the statue, which he placed at the entrance of his museum with an inscrip­tion forbidding any to enter who had no sympathy with ancient art.

Subsequently the collection in the Belvedere was enlarged by the addition of the so-called Tigris statue and the reclining figure of Ariadne, which was supposed to be Cleopatra, and celebrated under this name in the poems of Capodiferro and Castiglione. Finally, in January 1512, the great statue of the Tiber, found near the Minerva, was also brought to the Belvedere. The statues were artistically arranged either beside the fountains or on Sarcophagi ornamented with reliefs, so that the effect of the whole, with the orange grove in the centre, was rather that of a decorated garden than of a museum. “From the garden it was only a step to the eastern balcony, with its exquisite view over the city and the wide plain to the encircling hills beyond. A spacious covered hall, enclosing the principal fountain, seems to have opened into the cortile, on the other side.” Probably the statue of Hermes, now in the Uffizi Palace in Florence, and a sarcophagus of Meleander, which had been dug up from behind the church of S. Peter’s, stood here.

Each new discovery, as it stimulated the eagerness of the collectors, gave rise to fresh excavations and researches in Rome and the Campagna. The demand for antiquities became so keen that the extreme difficulty of procuring them is often mentioned. George of Negroponte, writing from Rome in 1507, says, “The moment anything is found, innumerable bidders for it start up.” From the same letter we gather that a flourishing trade in such things was carried on by speculators, the prices constantly rising and falling. For some time past, many antiquities had been carried off by foreign dilettanti. In the beginning of the 16th Century the demand for collections in Rome itself was no less eager. Julius II had to compete not only with Cardinals, such as Riario, Caraffa, Galeotto della Rovere, and, more especially, Giovanni de’ Medici, but also with rich merchants such as Agostino Chigi, members of the Court, like the German Goritz, and finally, with the Roman nobles, who loved to fill their palaces with antiques. They set them up in their gardens and court-yards, and built inscriptions and even sculptures into their walls and staircases, a custom which still survives.

The good effect of this “Pantheon of classical sculpture” in the Vatican, was not confined to its results in stimulating research and the knowledge of antiquity; it also furnished the sculptors of that time with the noblest examples and models. The Pope himself encouraged the revival of this art by giving employment to its most distinguished masters. He took Cristoforo Romano, Andrea Sansovino and Michael Angelo into his service. We shall deal fully in the next chapter with the commissions given by Julius to the greatest sculptor of modern times. Andrea Sansovino, who had been residing in Rome from the year 1504, was charged with the erection of two marble tombs in memory of Cardinals Ascanio Sforza and Girolamo Basso della Rovere, in the favourite church of the Rovere, Sto Maria del Popolo. Both were completed before the end of the year 1509. In his main design the master adhered to the traditional form, but the composition is free, and the distribution of the parts broader and clearer. “The figures recline in peaceful slumber in a sort of a niche in the wall surmounted by a triumphal arch.”

In the year 1512, Sansovino carved a marble group of the Madonna and Child and S. Anne for the church of S. Agostino by order of the German Prelate, Johann Goritz, whose house was the rendezvous of all the best scholars and artists in Rome. “This is one of the most perfect productions of the new style.” Its special characteristic is great tenderness and depth of expression, and the wonder­ful delineation of the three different ages which it represents.

Our admiration of Julius II’s indefatigable energy is still further increased when we turn to the numerous other works, which he undertook and carried out in Rome for the improvement of the existing streets, and the laying out and adorning of new ones. He connected all that he did in these directions with the works begun by Sixtus IV and Alexander VI. In April 1505, he determined to complete the Via Alessandrina; the cost of this work was divided between the Pope, the Cardinals, the officials of the Court, and the Hospital of Sto Spirito. Many other streets, as the approach to the Lateran, the streets of S. Celso, Sto Lucia and many of the Piazza were embellished by Julius II. Amongst the new streets which he made, and many of which still determine the ground-plan of the city, the Via Giulia bears his name up to the present day. Beginning at the Ponte Sisto it runs westwards in a straight line until it reaches the Tiber near the ruins of the old triumphal bridge. This latter was to have been rebuilt and was already spoken of as the Julian Bridge, and so the whole would have formed a new and splendid approach to S. Peter’s. The Via Giulia was then the broadest thoroughfare in Rome, and was to have been made the handsomest. We still see the trace of his plans in the now unfrequented street from which traffic has been diverted to other ways. Between the churches of San Biagio and del Suffragio we see the commencement, consisting of huge rough-hewn square stones, of the basement of an immense building which was intended to contain the Law Courts and Notarial Offices of the city, and also a handsome chapel. It was to have had four corner towers with a loftier one in the centre of the facade over the main entrance. If it had been completed, the Julian Palace would have ranked as Bramante’s greatest work after S. Peter’s and the Vatican. The immense blocks of travertine, the largest in Rome, shew on what a colossal scale the edifice was designed.

The district lying between the Via Giulia and the Bridge of St. Angelo, which had been improved under Sixtus IV. was still further embellished by Julius. The church of S. Celso was restored, and not far from it the new Mint was erected. The Banking-house of the wealthy and artistic Agostino Chigi, who was on such intimate terms with the Pope as financial adviser that Julius received him into the Rovere family, stood in this quarter; and Galeotto della Rovere now inhabited the Cancellaria which had formerly belonged to Rodrigo Borgia. An inscription on marble, somewhat in the tomb­stone style, was put up in 1512 in the Via di Bacchi by the ediles Domenico Massimo and Hieronymo Pico, praising Julius II for all he had done for the States of the Church and the liberation of Italy, and especially for having “made Rome the fitting capital of such a state by enlarging and embellishing her streets.” The improvements effected in the Lungara, the street running along the right bank of the Tiber between the Leonine city and the Trastevere, quite altered the appearance of that district. The intention was to carry it on as far as the Ripa Grande as a parallel to the Via Giulia on the other side, but it did not make rapid progress. The Riarii and Cardinal Ferarri had country-houses and gardens where it terminated, and in the time of Julius II. Agostino Chigi’s splendid Villa, the Farnesina, which was celebrated all over the world for the decorative paintings on its walls, stood there.

Amongst the Roman churches, for which Julius did more or less, Albertini mentions S. Maria Maggiore, S. Pietro in Vincoli, S. Biagio della Pagnotta, SS. Apostoli and Sta Maria del Popolo. Clinging closely as Julius always did to the traditions of Sixtus IV it will be understood that he took a special interest in this church. The Chapel of the Choir was enlarged by Bramante, and the windows filled with stained glass by two French masters, Claude, whose family name is unknown, and a Dominican, Guillaume de Marcillat. These artists were also employed by the Pope for the stained glass in the Sala Regia adjoining the Sistine Chapel, and in the Papal apartments in the Vatican, and liberally rewarded.§ The tombs of Cardinals Basso and Sforza were placed in this chapel, and it was further embellished, apparently in the year 1505, with frescoes by Pinturicchio at the Pope’s command. The exquisite harmony of colouring in this work even surpasses that of his Siena paintings. The roof seems to open in the centre to reveal a vision of the Coronation of the Blessed Virgin in a blue sky surrounded with a glory of cherub faces. Four circular openings in the direction of the cross axes of the central painting con­tain half-length figures of the Evangelists, while at the four corners of the roof square architectural frames enclose reclining forms of Sybils, painted in colour on a golden mosaic background. The depressed intermediate spaces are filled with highly-coloured grotesques on a dark ground while the architectural lines of the roof are defined in pale stone-colour. It was probably Julius II’s partiality for Sta Maria del Popolo which led Agostino Chigi to commence the building of a chapel for himself there, which, however, was only completed under Leo X. Julius II had only possessed a modest conventual-looking house near S. Petro in Vincoli as long as he remained a Cardinal, but when he became Pope he built himself a Palace by this church. The Villa Maglione, which had already been embellished by the art-loving Cardinal Alidosi, was further improved by Pope Julius II.

Outside Rome one of the first interests of this warrior Pope was to strengthen the fortresses in the States of the Church and add to their number. Work of this description was executed in Civita Vecchia, Ostia, Civita Castellana, Montefiascone, Forli, Imola, and Bologna. The building of churches, however, was by no means neglected. Julius assisted in the construction of the Cathedrals of Perugia f and Orvieto,  and in that of churches in Bologna, Ferrara, S. Arcangelo, Corneto, and Toscanella. He also gave a commission to Bramante for very extensive works at Loreto. While yet a Cardinal he had had the sacristy there decorated by Signorelli with a series of paintings; now he employed Bramante to embellish this venerated sanctuary, which was a focus of devotion to the Blessed Virgin for the whole of Italy and a large part of Europe. Paris de Grassis gives an account of these works, of which the most important were the decorated casing of marble with which the Holy House was covered, and which belongs to Julius II, though the arms of Leo X appear on the pedestal, and the Palace of the Canons, called subsequently the Palazzo Apostolico or Palazzo del Governo. This building was to have occupied the three sides of the piazza in front of the church, so as to form a closed atrium leading up to it, but only a portion of the design was completed.

Next to the Sanctuary of Loreto the decoration of the Cathedral of Savona, the Pope’s native city, was the work that lay nearest to his heart. Before he was made Pope he had enriched it with many gifts, and after his elevation he spent no less than 27,000 scudi on its endowment and embellishment. He also built a new Palace for the Bishop there and a Chapter-house, finished the Chapel of S. Sisto, supported the Hospital with liberal alms, and sent a yearly contribution to the keeping up of the harbour.

But with Julius II. the city in which the Holy See had its seat and held its Court naturally took the first place, and under him Rome became the true centre of the Art­life of Italy. The Pope’s love of architecture roused the prelates, the aristocracy, and the wealthy merchants, to follow where he led, and builders, sculptors and painters were in request in all quarters of the city. He did not, however, content himself with merely beautifying Rome; he aimed also at making the city safe and wholesome. The walls were restored in many places, and the charge of these fortifications and the chief offices of the city was handed over to men belonging to the noble Roman families, such as the Massimi, Altieri, Frangipani, Pici, della Valle, Cassarelli, Capodiferri, etc. The works begun by Alexander VI for strengthening the defences of the Castle of St Angelo were continued. Guglielmo de Piemonte, a friend of Michael Angelo, and the younger Antonio Picconi da Sangallo were the architects here employed, and they also completed the entrance and the arcade leading to the Vatican. The handsome Loggie at the top of the Castle, on which Julius’s name is inscribed, and from whence there is a magnificent panoramic view of Rome and the Campagna, are ascribed to Bramante. The repairing of the old Cloacae and the building of new ones, an important sanitary improvement, was the work of the Pope. He also constructed a new aqueduct from S. Antonio, two miles out of Rome, to the Vatican, and repaired that of the Aqua Virgo. Tommaso Inghirami, in his address to the Cardinals on the death of Julius II, referring to all that he did in these respects, says, “He found the city mean, uncleanly, and without dignity, and has so purified and embellished it that it is now worthy of the great name it bears. The buildings erected by the Savonese Popes within the last forty years make Rome what it is; all the other houses, if I may be pardoned the expression, are merely huts.”

During the lifetime of Julius II. the learned Canon Francesco Albertini compiled a guide in which, side by side with the old Rome, he describes the “new city” created by Nicholas V, Sixtus IV, and Julius II. It is really enjoyable to perambulate Rome under the guidance of this contemporary writer, and behold all the glory and beauty of the magic city as it appeared in the days of Julius II. No other source brings home to the mind so vividly as this little book does, the almost universal feeling for art which prevailed in that “happy generation where not a single house was to be found, belonging to any one who had the least pretence to culture, that did not possess some artistic feature. It might consist in the grandeur of its plan, or in some majestic pillared court, into which all the other rooms opened, or an exquisitely decorated library, the beloved sanctum of its owner, or blissful resort of his most congenial friends, or again, some precious collection of statues, or gems, or vases, or curious stuffs, the admiration and wonder of all who visited Rome. Frescoes on the walls of recep­tion rooms or studies were so common that no attempt is made to describe them or name their painters. So little account was made of them that whole series would be ruthlessly wiped out, as was done in the cloisters of the Minerva, founded by Cardinal Torquemada, to make way for new and better ones.” Albertini’s little book on the Wonders of old and new Rome is dedicated to Julius II. In the Preface he says “Sixtus IV began the restoration of the city, his successors followed in his footsteps, but your Holiness has outstripped them all”. At the close we find the date 3rd June, 1509. At that time Raphael was only just beginning to paint the Camera della Segnatura, and Michael Angelo was still at work in the Sistina; so that the greatest of all Rome’s wonders, those immortal monuments of religious art, had not yet been created.

CHAPTER IX.

Michael Angelo in the Service of Julius II. Tomb and Bronze Statue of the Pope. Paintings of the Ceiling in the Sistine Chapel.

Nicholas V and Sixtus IV while doing so much for architecture and painting had, owing to unfavourable circumstances, paid but little regard to plastic art. Julius II. following in their footsteps, had the good fortune to be able to secure for sculpture, as well as for painting, the services of the greatest genius of his time. His name will always be associated with that of Michael Angelo, as well as with those of Raphael and Bramante. It was he who afforded to all three the opportunity for displaying and developing their wonderful gifts.

Julius II knew Michael Angelo’s Pietà in the Chapel of S. Petronilla in S. Peter’s. No doubt, it was his acquaintance with this work which is one of the most noble and soul­stirring creations of Christian sculpture, which led him in the Spring of the year 1505 to invite the artist to Rome. The great sculptor, then 33 years of age, put aside his cartoon of the battle of Cascina, which he had just begun, and obeyed the Pope’s call. He arrived in March, and found at once in Julius the most artistic of all the Popes, a patron who understood and appreciated his power. He took the strongest personal interest in the sculptor’s work, followed every step, and pressed for its completion with the impatience of a boy. Between two such hot-tempered men as the Pope and the artist, collisions were inevitable; but they soon made friends again. They understood each other, both were Terribili in the Italian sense, great, vehement souls and lovers of all great and colossal things materially and spiritually; both crowned heads, one with the diadem of Christendom, the other with that of genius.

The first commission which the Pope gave to the artist was characteristic of both men. A colossal marble tomb was to be carved for him during his lifetime. Michael Angelo at once set to work to prepare several designs, of which one was accepted, and an agreement was drawn up binding the sculptor to complete the monument within five years, and fixing the price at 10,000 ducats meanwhile he was to draw a monthly provision of 100 ducats. Michael Angelo threw himself into his task with the greatest enthusiasm. He went at once to Carrara to obtain the material for his work and remained there eight months, superintending with the greatest care, first the quarrying, and then the transport of the marble, which weighed in round numbers about no tons.

In the beginning of the new year (1506) he returned to Rome and set up a workshop in the Piazzo San Pietro. He was burning with eagerness to begin his work. “Most honoured father,” he writes on 31st January, 1506, “I should be quite satisfied with my position, if only my marble had arrived; but I seem to be most unfortunate in this matter, for in all the time that I have been here we have had only two days of favourable weather. Some days ago one of the ships arrived after a narrow escape of running aground owing to the bad weather. Then, while I was unloading it, the river suddenly rose and flooded all the wharf, so that as yet I have not been able to do anything. I have only good words to give to the Pope, and hope he will not get angry. I trust I may soon be able to begin, and then to get on quickly. God grant it.”

There was, however, a much worse difficulty in the way, owing to the change in the Pope’s mind which was now turning more and more away from the thought of the tomb and towards the building of the new S. Peter’s. In compensation for this disappointment Michael Angelo was to be given a commission to paint the roof of the Sistine Chapel; but the master felt himself deeply aggrieved: the money he had received was not sufficient to pay even the freights of the marble. On the strength of the Pope’s order he had set up his workshop at his own cost and procured assistance from Florence. On the 17th of April, 1506, he heard that the Pope had said to a goldsmith and to his Master of Ceremonies that he would not give another farthing for stones, large or small. In much astonishment, Michael Angelo demanded before he left the Vatican a portion of the money that he required for the prosecution of his work. The Pope put off seeing him till the Monday following, but when the day came the promised audience was not granted. The same thing was repeated on the following days. When on the 17th April he appeared again he was refused admittance by the express command of the Pope. Upon this he flared up. “Tell the Pope”, he is said to have exclaimed,“ that it he wants me any more he will have to find me wherever he can.” Then he rushed out of the Palace, desired his servants to sell his things, and mounting his horse left Rome at once, with a firm determination never to set foot in it again.

When Julius was told of Michael Angelo’s flight (it was on the eve of the day of the laying of the foundation-stone for S. Peter’s) he commanded that the sculptor should be pursued at once and brought back by force if necessary. But Michael Angelo had ridden fast, and it was not till he had arrived safely in Poggibonsi, on Florentine soil, that the messengers succeeded in overtaking him and handing him a letter from the Pope, commanding him to return at once under pain of his serious displeasure. The angry artist, however, had no notion of complying. At 11 p.m. he wrote to the Pope that he would never return to Rome. “For the good service which I have rendered to your Holiness, I have not deserved to be turned out of your Palace as if I were a worthless lackey. Since your Holiness no longer requires the monument I am freed from my obligation, and I will not contract any new one.”

Michael Angelo’s friends, and especially Giuliano da Sangallo, did their best to bring about a reconciliation between him and the Pope. On the 2nd May, Michael Angelo wrote to Giuliano from Florence, “I beg you to read my answer to the Pope. I wish His Holiness to know that I am ready, indeed, more willing than ever, to go on with my work. If he wishes, whatever happens, to have the tomb, he ought not to mind where I execute the work, provided I keep to my agreement, that at the end of the five years it shall be put up in S. Peter’s wherever he chooses, and that it shall be well done. I am certain that when it is completed there will be nothing to equal it in the whole world. If His Holiness will agree to this I should be glad to receive his commission in Florence, from whence I will correspond with him. I have several blocks of marble at Carrara at my disposal which I can have sent here, and the persons that I shall want to assist me can also come here. Though I shall be considerably out of pocket by doing the work here I shall not mind that. As each portion is finished I shall send it at once to Rome, so that His Holiness will have as much pleasure in it as if I were at hand, and, indeed, more, as he will only see the finished work and have no anxieties about it.”

A week later a friend of Michael Angelo’s wrote to him from Rome, “Last Saturday, I and Bramante were called up to report to the Pope while he was at table, on a number of drawings and plans: I was first, and after dinner Bramante was called, and the Pope said to him, ‘tomorrow Sangallo is going to Florence and will bring Michael Angelo back with him.’ Bramante answered, ‘ our Holiness, Sangallo had better not count on it: I know Michael Angelo well, and he has said to me more than once that he did not intend to paint the Chapel; your Holiness was pushing him hard, but he would not undertake anything but the tomb’. Bramante said further, ‘Holy Father, I do not think he trusts himself for this work; he will have to paint figures greatly foreshortened to be seen from below; that is a very different thing from painting on the flat’. The Pope answered, ‘If he does not come, it will be a slight to me, and, therefore, I believe that he will’. Then I showed that I too was there and spoke out, somewhat as you would have done if you had had to speak for me. I called him a knave straight out before the Pope, at which he was struck quite dumb, for he saw that he had said what he ought not. At last I said, Holy Father, this man has never spoken with Michael Angelo about these things, if what I say is not true may my head fall at my feet. I will stick to it; this conver­sation never took place, and Michael Angelo will return if your Holiness really desires it? Thus the matter ended, and no more was said. God be with you. If I can do anything for you you have only to tell me. My respects to Simone Pollajuolo”.

On the 8th of July the Pope made another attempt to induce the sculptor to return, writing the following Brief to the Signoria. “Beloved Sons—Greeting and Apostolic blessing—Michelangelo the sculptor, who left us without reason, and in mere caprice, is afraid, we are informed, of returning, though we for our part are not angry with him, knowing the humours of such men of genius. In order then that we may lay aside all anxiety, we rely on your loyalty to convince him in our name, that if he returns to us he shall be uninjured and unhurt, retaining our Apostolic favour in the same measure as he formerly enjoyed it.”

Michael Angelo, who apparently had now resumed work on his cartoon and the bronze statues of the Twelve Apostles for the Cathedral of Florence, adhered resolutely to his refusal. Meanwhile, another letter arrived from the Pope. The Gonfaloniere Soderini sent for the artist, to remonstrate with him. “You have behaved towards the Pope,” he is said to have told him, “in a way that the King of France himself would not have ventured upon. There must be an end to all this. We are not going to be dragged into a war, and risk the whole State for you. Make up your mind to go back to Rome.” It was all in vain : it has even been asserted that Michael Angelo now thought of leaving Italy, and betaking himself to the Sultan, who had asked him to build a bridge for him from Constantinople to Pera. The poems composed at that time, in which he denounces the corruption in Rome in the strongest terms, betray tension and irritation with which his mind was filled during this period. The good offices of Cardinal Alidosi, the Pope’s favourite, whose mediation had been invoked by the Florentine Government proved equally unavailing.

Meanwhile Julius II had set out on his march against Bologna, and entered the city in triumph on the nth of November, I506. It was felt that this magnificent success should be immortalised by some monumental work of art. A statue of the Pope in stucco had already on the 17^th of December been put up in front of the Palace of the Government at Bologna. But Julius II had set his heart on a more durable work, a colossal bronze statue, to be a perpetual memento always under the eyes of the Bolognese of the greatness of their new ruler. The natural result was a fresh letter from Cardinal Alidosi to the Florentine Government, requesting them to send Michael Angelo to Bologna, where he would have no cause to complain of his reception. Now at last the sculptor gave way. Towards the end of November he started for the city, provided with a letter from Soderini, which ran as follows:—“The bearer of these presents will be Michelangelo the sculptor, whom we send to please and satisfy His Holiness. We certify that he is an excellent young man, and in his own art without a peer in Italy, perhaps even in the Universe. It would be impossible to recommend him too highly. His nature is such that he requires to be drawn out by kindness and encouragement; but if love is shewn to him, and he is well treated, he will accomplish things which will make the whole world wonder”. The letter was dated November 27. A postscript was added which said, “Michelangelo comes in reliance on our plighted word.” Subsequently, the artist said that he had gone to Bologna with a halter round his neck.

His reception was stormy. “It was your business to have come to seek us”, the Pope said, “whereas you have waited till we came to seek you”; alluding to his march to

Bologna. Michael Angelo fell upon his knees and begged for pardon in a loud voice. He declared his flight had not been deliberate. He had gone away in a fit of rage because he could not stand the way in which he had been driven from the Palace. Julius II made no answer, but sat there frowning, with his head down, until one of the Prelates who had been asked by Soderini to put in a good word for Michael Angelo if necessary, intervened and said : “Your Holiness should not be so hard on this fault of Michael Angelo; he is a man who has never been taught good manners, these artists do not know how to behave, they understand nothing but their art.” On this, the Pope, in a fury, turned on the unlucky mediator. ‘‘You venture,” he shouted, “to say to this man things that I should not have dreamt of saying. It is you who have no manners. Get out of my sight, you miserable, ignorant clown.” Then reaching out his hand to Michael Angelo he forgave him, and at once commissioned him to execute a statue of himself in bronze, which was to be 7 cubits high (about 14 feet). Then he asked what the cost would be, to which the sculptor replied, “I think the mould could be made for 1000 ducats, but foundry is not my trade, and therefore I cannot bind myself.” “Go,” answered Julius, “set to work at once, and make as many moulds as you like, until the statue is perfect; you shall have no reason to complain of your pay.” This famous audience which terminated the estrangement between these two fiery spirits, probably took place on the 29th November, I506.f It shows how well the Pope understood that genius levels all distinction of states.

Michael Angelo now set to work at once at Bologna. The Pope often visited him. In a letter to his brother Buonarroti, dated 1st February, 1507, he says, “Last Friday evening His Holiness spent half an hour in my work-room. He bestowed his blessing on me and gave me to understand that he was pleased with my work. We have all great cause to thank God, and I beg you to pray for me.”  On the 28th April the wax model was finished, and at the end of June the casting was begun, but was unsuccessful; only the bust came out, the other half stuck in the mould. Michael Angelo, however, was not discouraged, and worked day and night, until an entirely satisfactory result was attained. From the 18th of February, 1508, the statue was exhibited for three days in the Cathedral of S. Petronio. The whole city flocked to see it. The Bolognese magistrates wrote to Rome. “It is a wonderful work, equal to your own ancient remains.” On the 21st February the statue was placed in a niche over the door of S. Petronio with great demonstrations of joy.

The figure was three times the size of life. The Pope was represented sitting in full pontificals, with the Tiara on his head, the keys in one hand, and the other raised in blessing. The work seemed calculated to last for ever; in reality, its duration was of the shortest. On the 30th December, 1511, it fell a victim to the hatred of the Bentivogli party, who had already in May destroyed the stucco figure of the Pope. When the immense mass of metal, weighing over 14,000 pounds, fell to the ground, it made a deep hole in the earth although straw and bundles of sticks had been prepared to receive it. The noble statue was broken to pieces amidst gibes and jeers, and the Duke of Ferrara had a cannon made from the metal which was called La Giulia, in mockery of the Pope. The head of the figure, weighing 600 pounds, was preserved for a long time in Ferrara, but finally disappeared. This was the end of the finest statue in Italy, as the Bolognese chronicler calls it.

Michael Angelo had returned to his home in Florence as soon as the statue was finished, but he was not allowed to remain there long. In March 1508, Julius II recalled him to Rome, not, however, to proceed with the tomb, but to paint the roof of the Sistine Chapel. “It is to the honour of Julius that he again set his own personal glory, in employing the artist on work of a wider scope.” Michael Angelo, who only felt the fulness of genius with chisel in hand, at first resisted, saying that painting was not his trade. But the iron will of the Pope prevailed, and forced the brush into the unwilling fingers that were tingling to clasp the sterner instrument. An agreement was concluded between Julius II and the artist, in which the latter engaged himself to paint the central vault of the roof of the Sistine Chapel for a sum of 3000 ducats.

Michael Angelo, having received 500 ducats on account from the Pope, set to work at once on the cartoons with his wonted energy. According to the artist’s own account, in the first plan the Twelve Apostles were to be painted in the lunettes, and all the other spaces were, according to the usual practice of the time, to be filled with decorative designs. Before the end of May the scaffolding had already been put up. On the eve of Pentecost (10th June) the Chapel was so full of noise and dust that the Cardinals could hardly get through the office.

Meanwhile Michael Angelo had conceived a more extensive plan for his paintings, connecting them with the frescoes already existing in the Chapel, the superiority of which was at once appreciated by Julius II. In consequence a new agreement was drawn up in the Summer. The whole roof down to the windows was to be covered with figures, and the fee was to be 6000 ducats instead of 3000. All the materials were to be supplied to the artist. Michael Angelo now began to look about for assistants, ordered his colours, and probably began to paint in the late Autumn of 1508. The Pope was as usual desperately eager and impatient, and refused to grant the artist a short leave of absence for a journey to Florence.

On the 27th January, 1509, Michael Angelo complained to his father that the work was not getting on, as his assistants had proved worthless, and he had had to dismiss them. The result of this was, that this gigantic work was not only designed by Michael Angelo, but almost entirely painted by his own hands. Besides the enormous amount of labour involved in this, he had also to master the technique of fresco painting, in which he had had no experience. In consequence, the hot-tempered artist had many a passage of arms with his impatient patron. But the two passionate natures understood each other, and were soon friends again. “Probably the alternations of merciless pressure and unmeasured vituperation with the frankest indulgence and kindness, which characterised the relations between Julius II and Michael Angelo, were the means of obtaining more from him than any other treatment could have done.” In June, 1509, the Roman Canon Albertini saw the paintings already commenced in the central vault of the roof.

In May 1510, after a Winter of strenuous labour, Michael Angelo took a short holiday, which he spent in Florence. With all his diligence and energy, the painter could not work fast enough for his impatient task-master. Julius II climbed up on the scaffolding (Michael Angelo had to lend him a hand to help him up the last ladder) with the sole object of worrying the artist with questions as to when the work would be finished.

But the time was approaching when the life or death struggle for the independence of the Papacy and the liberation of Italy from the French was to absorb the Pope’s whole energies and thoughts. On the 17th August, 1510, he left Rome, and on the 1st of September he began his march on Bologna, where he found himself reduced to the greatest straits. For the present it was out of the question to spare anything for Art. Already in September all payments ceased, and Michael Angelo did not know what to do. At first he wrote to the Pope, but at the end of the month he decided on going himself to Bologna. In October he returned to Rome where, by the orders of Julius, the Datary, Lorenzo Pucci, gave him 500 ducats. But the payments soon again came to an end ; on which the artist repeated his personal appeal to the Pope and was once more successful. “Last Tuesday,” he writes from Rome to his brother on the 11th January, 1511, “I got back here safely, and the money has been paid to me.” He enclosed a bill of exchange for 228 ducats; but by the end of February the needs of the campaign had again absorbed the promised instalments: “I believe,” he writes to his brother on the 23rd February, “that I shall soon have to pay another visit to Bologna. When the Pope’s Datary with whom I returned here last time, went back thither, he promised me that he would see that I should have money to go on with. But now he has been gone a month, and I have heard nothing from him. I shall wait another week and then, if there is still no news, shall go to Bologna, taking Florence on the way. Tell my father this.”

He was able to put off this journey, for the money arrived, and the work was resumed, and in spite of all those difficulties, was approaching completion. In the short period of 22 months (from November, 1508, to August, 1510), not counting interruptions, the painting of the whole central vault was finished. But at what a cost of almost superhuman toil. Day after day the artist had to work lying on his back with the paint dropping on his face. Vasari says that his eyes had become so accustomed to looking upwards, that for some time, when he wanted to read a letter he had to hold it above his head. In a sonnet, addressed to Giovanni da Pistoja, he describes his sufferings in a vein of somewhat bitter humour:

I’ve grown a goitre by dwelling in this den,

As cats from stagnant streams in Lombardy,

As in whatever land they hap to be

Which drives the belly close beneath the chin :

My beard turns up to heaven : my nape falls in,

Fixed on my spine: my breast bone visibly

Grows like a harp : a rich embroidery

Bedews my face from brush-drops thick and thin.

My loins into my pannels like levers grind :

My buttock like a crupper bears my weight:

My feet unguided wander to and fro;

In front my skin grows loose and long ; behind,

By bending it becomes more taut and strait;

Crosswise I strain me like a Syrian bow,

Whence false and quaint I know,

Must be the fruit of squinting brain and eye;

For ill can aim the gun that bends awry.

Come then, Giovanni, try

To succour my dead pictures and my fame,

Since foul I fare and painting is my shame,

                                         SYMONDS’ Michelangelo

In order fully to estimate the amazing power and energy of the artist it must be remembered that the surface to be covered measured more than 10,000 square feet, and with its intersecting curves, lunettes, etc., bristled with difficulties for the painter. The magic wand of the artist filled the whole of this space with figures (343) in every imaginable position, attitude, and form of foreshortening, some 12 feet high, the Prophets and Sybils nearly 18 feet, and all carefully and conscientiously finished. All the details, the hairs of the head and beard, the finger nails, the creases in the soles of the feet are painted with the marvellous truth to nature of the 15th Century, while the whole is steeped in the large and restful spirit of consummate art.”

The most important portion of these paintings was completed just at the most critical moment in the whole Pontificate of Julius II. The States of the Church were lying defenceless at the mercy of the victorious army of the King of France, while at the same time the same foe was attacking the spiritual authority of the Pope with the threat of a Council. In a powerless, but with a still unbroken spirit, the Pope had returned to his Palace on the 27th June, 1511. On the eve of the Feast of the Assumption, the patronal festival of the Sistine Chapel, he attended Vespers there and saw the frescoes unveiled at last, that is all those of the central vaults; the architectural framework, historical groups and single figures forming a complete whole in itself.

In the middle of August, 1511, Michael Angelo began the cartoons for the paintings in the remaining interspaces and lunettes. At the end of September he had two audiences from the Pope, after the last of which he received 400 ducats. In May 1512, he was again in distress for money, which was not surprising, considering the political situation at that time. Michael Angelo told Cardinal Bibbiena that he would throw up his work and go, on which the Cardinal managed to procure 2000 ducats for him. In July he was again so diligent that he only wrote letters at night. On the 24th of July, 1512, he wrote : “I am working harder than any man has ever worked before, and I am not well, but I am resolved to have patience, and toil on to the end.” Shortly before this, he had shown his work from the scaffolding to Duke Alfonso of Ferrara and been cheered by his hearty appreciation of it; the Duke had also given him a commission for a picture. In October, he was able at last to announce to his father that all the paintings were completed, and that the Pope was extremely pleased with them. With characteristic piety Michael Angelo substituted for the usual artists’ signature an inscription close to the prophet Jeremias, ascribing the honour of the completion of his work to God, the Alpha and Omega, through whose assistance it had been begun and ended.

On All Hallow’s Eve (October 31st), “the most sublime creation that colours and brush have ever produced,” was unveiled. The work called forth a perfect furore of enthusiastic admiration. Its nobility of thought and the skilfulness of the composition were praised to the skies, and still more the perfection of the drawing and of the plastic effects. The Pope, then rapidly nearing his end, had the satisfaction of celebrating High Mass in the Chapel, which through him had become a shrine of noble art; thus fittingly closing a Pontificate which throughout had been devoted to lofty aims.

Nearly four centuries have elapsed since the unveiling of the roof of the Sistine. The smoke of candles has blackened it, time has seamed it with cracks, the colours have faded more or less, but still the effect ‘is overpower­ing. “No doubt from the beginning colour was never the main consideration in this work, the drawing was the effective element, and continues to this day to impress on the mind such a sense of its intense power and truthfulness that for the time the beholder forgets that there can be anything else in the world worth looking at.”

The idea of framing his pictures in a painted architectural design, subdividing the plain surface of the roof, was a bold and novel thought, and might have seemed fanciful, but for the purpose it was meant to serve, the effect was perfect. “The stone vaulting disappears, the fairy architecture resting on the real, flings its arches across the intervening space, sometimes with hangings stretched between them, and sometimes open to the sky in which the figures seem to float”

In regard to the subjects of his paintings Michael Angelo simply carried out his scheme begun in the frescoes on the walls, which had been painted under Sixtus IV, in accordance with the triple division of the Plan of Salvation in use in the Middle Ages. This was divided into the period preceding the giving of the Law; that of the Law, and that of Grace in the Kingdom founded by Christ. The frescoes on the left side represented the life of Moses, the period of the Law; those on the right the life of Christ, the Reign of Grace.

Thus the period before the Law from the Creation to the Deluge was still wanting, and its principal events, as narrated in Genesis, were taken by Michael Angelo as the subjects for his pictures. He depicted them in four large and five smaller rectangular compartments on the flat space in the middle of the roof running from end to end. His treatment of the idea of the Creation which is described in revelation as the immediate act of the Divine Will through the efficient Word, saying, “Be it thus, and it was”, is absolutely unique in its genius and power. We see and feel the rushing sweep of the breath of the Eternal through those days in which His Word called forth the heavens and the earth, the spiritual and the corporeal worlds into existence, out of the void. “Michael Angelo was the first of all artists to grasp the idea of Creation not as a mere word with the sign of Benediction, but as motion. Thus with him each separate creative act can have a characteristic form of its own.”

God, appearing at first quite alone, calls heaven and earth, the world of spirits, and the world of matter into existence. He divides light from darkness, which flies away at His word. Then, with angels now clustering round him, and sheltering under his mantle, the Father, sweeping through space, creates the earth and all the life that springs from her. “On this follows the climax of creation in the bestowal of life upon Adam, and with it that of the genius of Michael Angelo.” Surrounded by a host of heavenly spirits, “the Almighty approaches the earth, and touching with His finger the outstretched finger of the first man, in whom the approaching gift is already foreshadowed, communicates the vital spark. In the whole realm of art this master-stroke of genius, in thus giving a clear sensuous expression to a spiritual conception, stands unrivalled, and the progenitor of the human race is worthily represented in the noble figure of Adam.” The creation of Eve is an equally perfect conception in its masterly purity and solemnity. Adam lies in a deep sleep; God stands before him; Eve is rising; she has just gained her feet, but one knee is still bent. She appears at the bidding of her Creator, with clasped hands stretching towards Him, thanking Him for the gift of life. In all these pictures nothing is introduced but what is absolutely necessary to make the situation clear. All accessories that might distract the attention from the main subject are excluded.

The scenes which follow, taken from the early history of mankind,—especially that of the fall and the expulsion from Paradise,—the sin and its punishment, both por­trayed in the same picture, are equally powerful, simple, and striking. In the picture of the fall the tree of knowledge occupies the centre, the serpent (the upper half a female form) hands the forbidden fruit to Eve. Immediately behind the tempter a startling effect is produced by the instantaneous apparition of the avenging angel driving the culprits out of Paradise; while Eve, holding back her golden hair, casts one despairing, longing look behind her. The deluge, in one of the large compartments, also presents many striking scenes; in the whole composition the horror of the catastrophe is most powerfully rendered. The next picture, probably representing the sacrifices of Cain and Abel, contains an unusually large number of figures. The series is closed by the picture of Noe and his sons.

The nine central paintings have the effect of hangings stretched across the simulated architectural supports of the roof; they form the principal and most prominent part of its decoration. Next in importance come the series of Prophets and Sybils painted on the descending curve of the vaulting between the arches. There are twelve in all, five on each of the long sides and one at each end, all of colossal size: the giant-spirit needs a giant-form to express it. The effect of these figures, with their majestic draperies, is intensely spiritual, and yet the outlines are so strong and firm that they look as if they were carved in stone. The sides of the marble seats in which they are enthroned form the main support of the imaginary roof. Attendant genii accompany the Prophets of the Messiahs for the two worlds of Judaism and heathenism; some sit absorbed in thought or vision, poring over their books or scrolls, while others again with impassioned ges­tures proclaim what they have seen. The manner of life of those to whom the Lord God “revealed His secrets” (Amos, III. 7), wholly immersed in the study, and contemplation, and announcement of the coming Salvation, is here expressed with a perfection which classical art could not conceive and which modem art can never hope to equal. We need only here mention the most celebrated. The Delphic Sybil, a singularly powerful and yet attractive figure, seems gazing with enraptured eyes on the actual fulfilment of her prophecies. Isaias is reading the book of the world’s destiny. The curve of his brow suggests that of a heavenly sphere, a source of thought like the crystal reservoirs on the mountain tops from which the great rivers are fed. The angel is calling him and he gently raises his head with­out lifting his eyes from the book, as though balancing between two infinities. Jeremias is shrouded in sackcloth and ashes, as befits the prophet who dwells under the shadow of desolate Jerusalem. His lips seem to vibrate to the sound of the conqueror’s trumpet. His beard is tangled and matted, his bowed head looks like the crown of a cedar that has been shattered by lightning, his half­closed eyes are hidden wells of tears. His hands look strong, but they are swollen, for they have been bearing up the tottering walls of the temple. We see that the groans of the captive sons of Israel from the banks of the alien river and the wailings of the Queen of the nations, now widowed and deserted, are ever sounding in his ears. Ezekias is in a divine ecstasy, interrogating his visions, stirred by the spirit which possesses him to the very depths of his being. Daniel is busily writing; his mission was to proclaim the day of deliverance for the good, and judgments on tyrants to future generations. The most admirable thing about these majestic figures, on which one could gaze for ever with unwearied interest, is, that they are not mere decorations of a hall or chapel, but men, real men, who have felt the grief that we know, and been wounded by the thorns which grow on our earth; their brows are furrowed with human thought; their hearts have felt the chill of deceptions; they have seen conflicts in which whole generations have perished; they have felt the shadow of death in the air above them, and they have striven with their own hands to prepare the way for a new order of things; their eyes have grown worn and dim through their too fixed gaze on the ever-changing kaleidoscope of the ages; their flesh has been consumed by the fire of burning thoughts. The attitudes of some of these figures, such as the Lybian Sybil and the Prophets Daniel and Jonas, may be to a certain extent violent and exaggerated, but as a rule massive form and ecstatic emotion are admirably restrained within the limits of harmony and beauty. Those who are inclined to find fault with the master in this regard should consider the extreme difficulty of the task he proposed to himself, which was to create twelve figures, each of which should impress on the mind the idea of a being raised by divine inspiration into the superhuman sphere. For this, mere majesty of form was not enough; a variety of separate situations had to be imagined, each denoting inspiration, represented in a form that could be apprehended by the senses. Perhaps complete success in such an undertaking was beyond the powers of Art itself.”

A third series of pictures, closely connected with the majestic form of the Prophets and Sybils, occupy the arches of the wall and the triangular spaces between them and the pendentives, and represent “the ancestors of Christ in simple scenes of family life.” The tone of feeling in all these figures is that of patient resignation, waiting for the promise of the nations. Here, as in the Prophets and Sybils, Michael Angelo in the plan of his composition follows the received mediaeval conception.

The fourth series consists of the large pictures in the four corners of the vaulting. These represent some of the miraculous deliverances of Israel as types of the future Redemption. The subjects are the slaying of Goliath, Judith going forth to the camp of Holofernes, the punishment of Haman, and the Brazen Serpent. The latter, with its startling contrasts of death and deliverance, is the finest of the whole set of pictures. “The clear division between the two concentrated groups, with the symbol of Salvation separating them locally as well as spiritually, the one turn­ing away in devil-ridden despair, the other pressing forward with eager confidence, makes this picture perhaps one of the most marvellous productions of Michael Angelo’s genius, especially when we consider the difficulties presented by the form of the surface on which it is painted”.

To these four cycles of paintings the master’s prolific imagination added “a whole world of purely ideal figures simply as a harmonious living and breathing incarnation of the ornamental roof which he had devised.” Michael Angelo evidently intended this roof to represent one of those festal artistic decorations so commonly employed in the Renaissance age even for religious solemnities. The innumerable ornamental figures employed, some in holding the tablets with the names of the Prophets, some, in every variety of posture, to fill up the spaces between the arches, others again in supporting or crowning the cornices, correspond with the living personifications so frequently perched on various portions of these festive erections. All these nude figures, the sturdy children and strong-limbed youths, are in a sense members of the architectural scheme, supporting cornices, carrying inscription tablets or shields, or holding up hangings or garlands. Hardly any of them are at rest, almost all are at work or in motion in some way, but none have any relation to the subjects of the pictures, they belong entirely to the decoration. However one may admire these undraped figures from the point of view of the artist, many will feel them incongruous for the decoration of a chapel.

Considered as a spiritual conception, Michael Angelo’s Sistine paintings are fully on a level with their artistic presentation. They are a mighty poem in colour, having for its theme the whole course of the human race from the heights of creation down to the need of salvation and upwards again to the dawning of the day of deliverance. In their silence they speak with an eloquence that can never be surpassed. Nowhere has the office of the Old Testament as the preparation for the new and abiding covenant been set forth with such convincing truth and beauty. First we have the creation of nature, the standing ground for the spiritual life of the human race, then the making of man, his fall into sin, in which the family (Cain and Abel), society (the Deluge), finally, even the best of the race (drunkenness of Noe), become involved. Under the old law, all humanity is yearning for deliverance from the burden of guilt. From the midst of the people God raises up the Prophets for the Jews, and the Sybils for the heathen, as inspired seers, beholding the future salvation, but at the same time bearing in their souls the sorrows of their brethren. Four visible types of this salvation appear in the corner pictures, drawn from the history of Israel: the enemy who desires to destroy the people of God is vanquished in Goliath, Haman, Holofernes, and the Serpent, all only types of the victory wrought by the eternal sacrifice of the Son of God unceasingly celebrated by the Church on the Altar.

On the completion of the roof paintings in the Sistina, Michael Angelo turned again to the tomb of Julius II, apparently by the Pope’s orders. Ever since the Summer of 1512, Julius II had not disguised from himself the fact that his days were drawing to their close. The great difficulty about the tomb consisted in the uncertainty as to where it was to be placed. As the Choir of S. Peter’s, which had just been erected by Bramante, was only temporary, it could not be put there. In consequence of this uncertainty Michael Angelo had to make several sketches for his new design, some complete on all sides, others intended to stand against a wall.

According to Condivi and Vasari, Michael Angelo’s biographers, the isolated plan was as follows. The Chapel containing the Pope’s sarcophagus was to be enclosed in a marble shell, measuring about 54 feet by 36. The pediment was to be covered with symbolical single figures and groups. The arts of painting, sculpture, and architecture were to be represented by captive figures in order to indicate, so Condivi tells us, that they were now, together with the Pope, prisoners of death, since they would never again find another Pope to encourage and promote them as he had done. Statues of Victory, with the conquered provinces at their feet, were to represent Julius II’s successes in regaining the lost possessions of the States of the Church. The pediment was to be surmounted by a cornice, above which was to rise a second storey, bearing four typical figures, two of them being Moses and S. Paul. Above these again was to be the figure of the Pope sleeping, and borne by two angels. The whole work was to measure about 30 feet in height, and to contain more than 40 statues, not counting the bas-reliefs on which the principal events in the life of Julius II. were to be portrayed.

While Michael Angelo was employed on this work, the Pope died. Shortly before his death, on the 19th February, 1513, Julius had given orders that his tomb should be erected in the Sistine Chapel of S. Peter’s, where his uncle Sixtus IV. lay. He left 10,000 ducats in his will for the monument. On the 6th May, 1513, Michael Angelo concluded a very detailed agreement with the executors, Cardinal Leonardo Grosso della Rovere, and the Protonotary, Lorenzo Pucci, which is still extant. The monument was to have three faces, the fourth side was to be against the wall. Each face was to contain two tabernacles (niches with side pilasters and a cornice) resting on a high basement. In each niche there were to be two statues somewhat larger than life. Against the twelve pillars dividing the niches there were to be statues of the same size, so that twenty-four statues would be required for the substructure alone. Above this was to be the sarcophagus with the Pope’s statue surrounded by four other figures all double life-size, and in addition to these, on the same level, six colossal statues seated. Where the structure joined the wall, there was to be a Chapel containing five figures which, being further from the eye, were to be still larger than any of the others. The spaces between the niches were to be filled with reliefs in bronze or marble.

As this plan considerably exceeded the former one, both in size and in importance, the artist was to receive 16,500 ducats, but the 3500 ducats already paid were to be deducted from the sum; he bound himself to undertake no other large work until this was finished.

During the years from 1513-16 Michael Angelo devoted all his powers to this gigantic undertaking. Sculpture was his favourite art; he used to say he had imbibed it with his mother’s milk, because his grandmother was the wife of a stone mason ; and, indeed, as we have seen in the roof of the Sistine Chapel, even in painting he always thought as a sculptor.

The masterly statues of the dying youth and the youth in fetters (the slaves) which are now in the Louvre, were executed during this period. Four other statues intended for the base of the monuments, gigantic figures of captives or conquered warriors, crouching and writhing, and only roughly carved, are preserved in the Giardino Boboli at Florence (on the left of the entrance). In the National Museum in that city, there is also the statue of a victorious and triumphant warrior; and that of a vanquished one in St. Petersburg.

The only one of the statues designed for the upper storey that still exists, is the Moses begun in the years 1513-1516, while the artist’s mind was still possessed and dominated by the forms of the Prophets of the Sistine Chapel. This world-famed statue, “the triumph of modern sculpture”, now adorns the monument of Julius II in S. Pietro in Vincoli, where at last the tomb was erected, though greatly reduced from the dimensions originally contemplated.

The gradual curtailment of this noble design in which Michael Angelo had hoped to have realised all his loftiest and grandest conceptions, and the money disputes with the Duke of Urbino connected with this, were the occasion of such prolonged misery, and such paroxysms of anger and disappointment to the artist as to make this tomb the tragedy of his whole life. The monument as completed corresponds with its original plan as little as it does with the first conception approved by Julius II. But the magnificent effect of the statue of Moses compensates for all its short-comings. The aspect in which Moses is here presented is that of the fiery and resolute ruler of Israel, who led the stiff-necked nation for forty years through the wilderness, who dared the wrath of God for their sakes, and in his fury at their idolatry, dashed the Tables of the Law to pieces and commanded 3000 of the rebels to be slain. The wise law-giver, the servant of Jehovah, the humble penitent confessing himself unworthy to enter the promised land, are entirely ignored in this essentially one-sided representation. The artist conceives the teacher and captain of the chosen people exclusively as a man of action like Julius II. The head is raised, the brow deeply furrowed, the angry eyes are turned sideways towards the left, the whole frame almost writhes under the shock of conflicting emotions. The very hairs of the long thick beard, in which the finger tips of the right hand, resting on the despised law, are half­concealed, seem to quiver. The strong pressure of the left hand against the breast seems striving to keep down the rising storm. But the forward movement of the right foot and the tension of the left leg drawn backward, are too significant; in another moment the giant will have sprung from his seat to wreak his wrath on the backsliders.

“Any one who has once seen this statue will never lose the impression. The effect is as of one conscious that he holds in his hands the thunderbolts of Omnipotence, and waiting to see whether the foes whom he means to destroy will venture to attack him.” In fact, Michael Angelo’s Moses is the embodiment of the Pope-king who humbled Venice, reconquered the States of the Church, and drove the French out of Italy. The masterful vehemence and almost superhuman energy of Julius II are admirably represented in this Titanic figure; but none the less is it also a no less faithful transcript of the sculptor’s own proud  and unbending character, and impetuous, passionate temperament.

Julius II’s colossal monument was never completed, his bronze statue was destroyed; but the indomitable spirit of the mighty Pope and the equally kingly soul of the great sculptor have been carved into the Moses of Michael Angelo. As we gaze upon it we understand the words of Ariosto, “Michel più che terreno, angel divino”

CHAPTER X.

Raphael in the Service of Julius II.—The Camera della Segnatura and the Stanza d’Eliodoro.

In Michael Angelo’s creations nature found herself outdone by art. When she gave Raphael to the world she saw herself eclipsed, not only in the artist but also in the man; for he combined with the highest intellectual gifts the most winning grace, industry, beauty, modesty, and a perfect life. With these words Vasari, the father of modern historians of art, begins his description of the life of one who will ever live in the memory of the world as at once the greatest master of Christian Art and a genius of first-rate creative power.

Raphael was endowed by nature with the sweetest of dispositions and great personal beauty. Constitutionally, he was a true Umbrian, and his early works are pervaded by the dreamy calm of the school in which he was reared, but unlike Michael Angelo he possessed a singular power of absorbing and assimilating the most various external impressions. His genius did not expand much until he came to Florence, where Leonardi da Vinci and Fra Bartolomeo exercised a strong influence over him. He arrived in Florence in 1504, and the April of 1508 found him still working there. In the Autumn of that year, the twenty­sixth of his life, he appears in Rome. On the 8th September, 1508, he writes to his friend the painter, Francesco Francia, to excuse his tardiness in sending him his promised likeness. “On account of my many and important occupations,” he says, “I was not able sooner to paint it myself, in accordance with our agreement I could, indeed, have got one of my assistants to do it, and sent it off thus; but that would not have been becoming, or rather, perhaps, it would have been becoming, in order to shew that I do not paint as well as you do. I beg you not to be hard upon me, for you, yourself, must have experienced what it is to have lost one’s freedom, and have to serve a master”.

The many and important occupations here mentioned were the great works in the Vatican with which he had been charged by Julius Il.

The Pope had left the Appartamento Borgia, in which he had spent the first four years of his reign, on the 26th November, 1507, in order “not to be pestered with reminiscences of Alexander VI” and established himself in another part of the Vatican Palace. He had chosen for his future residence a suite of rooms looking out on the Cortile di Belvedere, which had been built by Nicholas V. These were situated in the vicinity of the same Pope’s study, which was adorned with Fra Angelico’s wonderful frescoes. Perhaps this may have led Julius II to wish to have the adjoining chambers decorated in the same manner. These rooms the famous“ Stanze” (living rooms) are the continuation of a spacious hall, the Sala di Costantino, which is only lighted from one side. The Stanze, on the contrary, have two large windows in each room facing each other with marble seats in their bays. In the two first rooms these windows are opposite each other in the East (Stanza dell’ Incendio), one is in the corner; thus, the bad light, coupled with the intricacies of perspective created by the irregular spaces, make the task of the painter an extremely difficult one. The only really suitable surfaces for painting are the plain cross vaultings on the ceiling. The shape of the rooms is oblong; their proportions are simple but dignified. The doors by which the rooms communicate with each other are in the corner at the end of the long walls, and are not large, so that on these sides there is a long free space, semi-circular at the top, well fitted for large historical compositions, while on the short side, cut up by the windows, there is little room for any­thing.

These rooms during the Autumn of 1508 presented a busy scene. In the Stanza dell’ Incendio, Perugino was painting the four round divisions of the ceiling, filling up the interspaces with decorative designs. In the adjoining Camera della Segnatura, Raphael and Sodoma were at work together, the latter having undertaken the ornamental work on the ceiling. In addition to these artists the impatient Pope had got Luca Signorelli, Bramantino, Bernardino Pinturicchio, Suardi, Lorenzo Lotto, and the Fleming, Johann Ruysch, all variously occupied in the upper storey. But this did not last long. In a very short time the Pope perceived how completely the works of the other artists were eclipsed by Raphael’s magnificent paintings in the Camera della Segnatura, and took his measures accordingly. The slight mythological pictures with which Sodoma had begun to adorn the ceiling were countermanded, and his work confined to the purely decorative parts; all the serious pictures were given to Raphael, and before long Perugino and Pinturicchio were also dismissed. The former returned to Perugio; Pinturicchio went to Siena, and never came back to Rome. “Hard as this must have been for them they could not dispute the justice of the Pope’s verdict, who had, indeed, fully appreciated the worth of what they had accomplished in their best days.”

Raphael’s paintings in the Camera della Segnatura, which the world owes to the appreciative insight of Julius II, are the most famous and the most interesting of all his creations. Though faded, and in many ways damaged by the ravages of time, they are still the joy of all artists and art-lovers. As long as ever a trace of them still remains, they will draw pilgrims of every nationality to visit this shrine of Art.

The importance of these frescoes is evinced by the amount of literature to which they have given rise, and which will continue to increase, for they are as inexhaustible as the heavens, in which new stars are being perpetually discovered. 

In the four principal divisions of the stuccoed ceiling, which is decorated in the classical style, Raphael painted four female allegorical figures in large circular frames, with descriptive inscriptions, supplying the clue to the meaning of the series of pictures below. These majestic forms, enthroned on clouds, are painted in vivid colours, toned down by a background of shimmering gold, representing mosaic work.

The science of faith, Theology, comprehends the knowledge of divine things (divinarum rerum notitia), as the inscription, borne by angels, announces. The figure of Theology seems to have been suggested by Dante’s Beatrice, the expression of the face is sweetly serious, gentle, and yet full of dignity. The olive crown on the head denotes divine wisdom, the floating veil is white, the mantle green, the robe red—the colours of the three theological virtues, Faith, Hope, and Charity. The two principal sources of the science of Theology are Tradition and Holy Scripture. She holds the sacred volume in her left hand, and points with the other to the large picture on the wall in which those to whom Tradition and knowledge have been committed are represented assembled round the Supreme Mystery and Centre of Christian worship.

The representation of Poetry is even finer. Sweetness, sensibility, and enthusiasm are exquisitely combined in the expression of the whole figure. In her right hand she holds a book, in her left a lyre; her laurel crown indicates the fame that waits upon art; her strong wings, her scarf strewn with stars, her azure drapery, the thrill of emotion which pervades her whole form, denote the imaginative faculty. The inspired eyes baffle description; altogether as the scroll carried by the cherubs who attend upon her declares, the divine afflatus is the breath of her being.

The next figure, Philosophy, is treated classically and with a good deal of symbolism. The side of the marble seat on which she is enthroned bears a relief of Diana of Ephesus, copied from an antique model. Her robes represent the four elements, Air in the upper garment, which is blue and sown with stars, the drapery, symbolising Fire, is red and embroidered with salamanders, while Water and Earth are represented, respectively, by fishes and plants on a sea-green and an ochre-brown background. The clasp of the diadem which encircles her brow is a carbuncle. She holds two large books in her hands, the one entitled “Moralis”, the other “Naturali”s, moral and natural science, while the winged genii on either side carry tablets with the inscription,“causarum cognitio”, “knowledge of causes.”

The fourth figure wears a crown: her sword and scales and the winged boy holding a scroll with the inscription “Jus suum unicuique tribuit,” giving to each his due, leave no doubt as to whom she is intended to represent. She has four attendants, two of whom are angels.

In the long pendentives of the vaulting, Raphael painted four smaller pictures encircled, like the large ones, with richly decorated ornamental frames. In the one adjoining Theology, the Fall is represented; it is perhaps the most beautiful of all existing presentations of this scene. Next to Poesy is the crowning of Apollo and the flaying of Marsyas; the judgment of Solomon illustrates Justice. In these three pictures narrative takes the place of symbolism, but in the one which accompanies Philosophy, Raphael reverts to allegory. It is a female figure waited on by two genii carrying book ; she is bending over a globe poised in the midst of a starry sphere, to which she points with one hand.

The paintings on the ceilings, being more out of reach of injury than the wall frescoes, are in better preservation; the two series are closely connected with each other; those on the walls representing the four great intellectual powers as they act upon human life. Theology, unveiling the mysteries of revelation, and interpreting the miracles of faith; Philosophy, searching out the causes and natures of things by the light of reason; Poesy, decking life with grace and beauty; Jurisprudence, maintaining social order and security. Nothing can be more perfect than is the artistic presentation of this majestic cycle of the intellectual forces in their graduated order, with Theology at the head.

For the picture in illustration of Justice, Raphael chose one of the smaller wall spaces, cut up and curtailed by the large window in the middle of it; it is the simplest of all. In the semi-circle over the window the three cardinal virtues, Fortitude, Prudence, and Temperance, the inseparable companions of Justice, are allegorically represented by a charming group of three female figures. “The skilful arrangement of the lines in this composition, the variety in the forms, the unconstrained grace of the attitudes, are an inexhaustible source of delight.” The pictures on the two sides of the window portray the institution of Law in the State and in the Church, respectively. On the smaller left side, the Emperor Justinian, seated on an antique chair, hands his Pandects to Trebonius, who is humbly kneeling before him. On the right of the window, Gregory IX, whose features are those of Julius II, gives the Decretals to the Advocate of the Consistory, who also kneels to receive them. No doubt the giving of the Decretals was intentionally placed in the ample space and treated with greater fulness to shew that the law of the Church ranks higher than secular laws. These compositions contain a number of admirably characteristic heads.

The glories of Poesy are depicted on the opposite wall, also broken by a window looking into the Cortile di Belvedere.  Raphael here decided on painting a continuous picture, and ingeniously overcame the difficulty presented by the window, by making its circular top support the summit of Parnassus from which the sides of the mountain naturally sloped downwards. On the height, the youthful Apollo sits enthroned in a bower of laurels, surrounded with flowers, while the Hippocrene fountain wells up from beneath his feet.

A mere copyist of the antique would have put a lyre into Apollo’s hands. But this was not Raphael’s mind, and he has chosen the instrument most in use in his day, the viola di braccio (alto), which allows a freer motion to the hand, and, at the same time, was better understood by his contemporaries. The muses which are grouped around Apollo also depart in many ways from strictly classical models, though they are singularly charming and graceful. Immediately below them come the great poets crowned with laurel; on the left of the God, Homer, “the king of noble singers, soaring like an eagle above all his compeers,” stands in a blue mantle, his head a little thrown back after the manner of blind people, his face glowing with poetic inspiration, as he dictates his verses, which a youth at his side is transcribing. Behind him is Dante, absorbed in introspective thought, while Virgil is trying to draw his attention to Apollo’s playing. The poetess Sappho designated by an inscription on the half-open roll which she holds is also in a prominent place on the left. An aged poet on the other side, opposite to her, to whom three others are listening admiringly, is supposed to be Pindar. The two sitting figures in the foreground are “admirably arranged in connection with the architectural lines, so as to make these latter appear rather to sustain and give effect to the fresco than to cramp it. On the other side the painted setting of the window is utilised as a support for Sappho’s arm, who leans against it.”

This fresco has been called the most perfect specimen of a genre painting that has ever been produced. The spirit of music pervades the whole composition; one seems actually to hear the music of Apollo and the song of Homer, and to share with the delighted listeners the spell of sound which unites them all in one common sense of perfect content.

The next subject, which fills one of the long side-walls under the name of the School of Athens, is of quite a different character from that of the blissful company of poets assembled on Mount Parnassus. The predominant tone of feeling which reigns throughout this imposing gathering of so many various schools and masters is that of deep seriousness, laborious and indefatigable research. The scene also is very different; instead of the laurel-shaded flowery mount of the gods, we have a majestic fane, with a nave and transept surmounted by a cupola and approached by a broad flight of steps. This temple is dedicated to Minerva and Apollo, whose statues adorn the facade, in front of which a raised platform in the middle distance runs slantwise across the whole picture.

In the conception of this building, and also in the arrangement of some of the groups, we seem to trace a reminiscence of one of Ghiberti’s reliefs in the Baptistery at Florence. Down the long nave attended by a double band of disciples, the two princes of the philosophers, Plato and Aristotle, are slowly moving towards the top of the steps, on one of which the cynic Diogenes lazily reclines by himself. Aristotle is represented as a man in the prime of life. He wears an olive-green robe and grey-blue mantle and holds his Ethics in his hand. Plato is a venerable old man with a large and lofty brow and ample white beard; his robe is of a greyish-violet and his mantle red; he holds a book in his hand on the back of which Timeo is written. They are occupied in expounding their respective philosophies; Aristotle is pointing to the earth, Plato to the heavens. On the right of these two prominent central groups are several singularly beautiful isolated figures; one a youth writing diligently, another an older scholar deep in thought, again close to the edge of the picture an old man leaning on a staff, just entering, with a youth hurrying after him.

On the left of the centre Socrates stands with a knot of listeners surrounding him (Dialecticians). He is numbering his propositions on his fingers and developing the consequences. Opposite to him is a handsome youth in full armour with a golden helmet, supposed to be Alcibiades. His features are copied from an antique gem still to be seen in Florence. A man by his side is eagerly beckoning to three others to join him. The foremost of these seems explaining why he is not so eager as his companions to obey the call; in front of him a youth with an armful of books rushes by in such haste that his golden-brown mantle is slipping from his shoulders: the connection between the group and the foreground is sustained by a number of persons assembled round the base of a pillar against which a youth is leaning turning over the leaves of a book. In the foreground to the right, not far from the grammarians, is an admirably composed group representing the arithmeticians and musicians. An old man (Pythagoras), supporting himself on one knee, is writing diligently, while on his left a boy is holding a tablet on which the numbers and symbols of the Pythagorean doctrine of harmonies are inscribed. An Asiatic and an aged man with an inkstand and pen are standing f behind and at the side of the philosopher, looking into his book over his shoulder. To the right of this concentrated circle stands a young man in a long white garment embroidered with gold, identified, by a not very trustworthy tradition, as Duke Francesco Maria della Rovere of Urbino. Before him appears a man in the prime of life, one of the most striking personalities ever painted by Raphael, eagerly expounding his discoveries and views out of a book. The last figure on this side is strong contrast with him, a philosopher sitting motionless on the lowest step, absorbed in thought, with pen in hand preparing to write.

The group of geometricians and astrologers in the foreground on the right side is perhaps as perfect a representation of the processes of thought and research, reading and learning, listening and apprehending, as Raphael has ever produced. The mathematician (at one time thought to be Archimedes, but now rightly held to be Euclid) is a portrait of Bramante; he is bending low with a circle in his hand, over a mathematical figure which he is explaining. There is hardly any group in the whole fresco which is more dramatic and artistic than that of the four fair-haired youths who surround this teacher. The foremost kneels, and with the fingers of one hand follows the lines of the drawing which he is trying to understand. The second youth shows in his eyes and by the movement of his hand that light is beginning to dawn on him. The third has mastered the problem so that he can now interpret it to the fourth, whose face beams with the joy of apprehension. “The psychological process by which the mind passes from the external sign to its meaning and thence to the internal cognition of the object, has never elsewhere been so truthfully and vividly portrayed.’’

Adjoining this group is a King (Ptolemy) with a terrestrial globe in his hands and another figure (Zoroaster) with his head encircled by a gold band and carrying a celestial globe. At the edge of the fresco, by the side of the votaries of the sciences of the earth and heavens, Raphael has introduced a likeness of himself, and one of his fellow­artist, Sodoma.

A connecting link between all these groups and the central one is formed by two men, the older of whom is coming down from the platform, while the younger is mounting the steps towards the two greatest teachers.

Beautiful and interesting as each one of the numerous separate groups which make up the picture is in itself, none can withdraw our attention for any length of time from the splendid figures of Plato and Aristotle which dominate the whole composition. The eye involuntarily and constantly turns back again to gaze on the two great masters, the undisputed princes of the whole Academy. A flood of light from the dome above bathes them in its radiance, a symbol of the heavenly illumination which was the object of all their toil and its well-merited reward.

Perhaps no other work of art in existence has called forth so many various and conflicting interpretations as has the School of Athens. There are almost as many opinions as there are figures in the picture in which the artist strove to depict both the loftiest aspirations and the multiform vagaries of the human mind. Critics tried to put a name to each, and lost themselves in futile individualisations. The only way to arrive at a satisfactory solution is to look at the composition as a whole, and in the light of the general point of view of the time. If this is done the fundamental idea becomes clear at once. Raphael intended to portray the efforts of the human mind to discover and scientifically apprehend its own highest object and final cause by the light of reason. The purpose of the painter in this monumental work was to celebrate the praise of Philosophy in the language of Art and from the points of view of his own age. It is possible, and most probable, that he discussed the subject with his learned friends, especially with Sadolet, and that he was influenced by the works of Marsilio Ficino, and also by Dante and Petrarch. But, essentially, there can be little doubt that his ideas of the significance and development of ancient philosophy came from Urbino. In some particulars, as in giving the highest place to Plato, he adopted the point of view of the Renaissance, but in the main he retained the mediaeval conception. In this, all knowledge that can possibly be attained by the human intellect through the experience of the senses and the laws of thought, is comprised in the seven liberal arts (artes liberals), Grammar, Rhetoric and Logic (Dialectics) the so-called Trivium; and Music, Arithmetic, Geometry, and Astronomy—the Quadrivium. Raphael’s composition is entirely founded on the idea of Philosophy as the sum of the seven liberal arts.

Plato and Aristotle represent the highest achievements of the human intellect in its efforts to understand and know the substance of all things; truth came to them in flashes like lightning at night; but although these intellectual athletes accomplished as much as it is given to the natural powers of man to work out, they could not obtain to the full possession of the highest truth. On one point all the great thinkers of antiquity, and even Plato, the philosopher of immortality, were at fault; they had no true conception of sin, of the nature and origin of evil. Thus, Greek philosophy was powerless to heal the deadly wound of the ancient world. “Philosophy”, says Vincent de Beauvais in his great Encyclopaedia, “can work the way up to a natural theology, but not to the true science of theology. That could only come from revelation in the Bible and, through its interpreters, the great theological teachers.” This distinction between the realms of natural and supernatural theology is to be found in all the great Catholic thinkers. Thus Dante makes Beatrice say that the difference between human knowledge and Divine faith is as great as the distance between heaven and earth.

Therefore, Raphael chose the highest object of supernatural lore for the subject of his fresco on the opposite wall to the School of Athens, which represents the triumphs of human reason. But it must not be supposed that either the immortal masters of mediaeval theology, or Dante, the greatest of Christian poets, or Raphael, the most gifted of Christian artists, were conscious of any opposition between Theology and Philosophy. As the Church grew to realise her plenary and imperishable possession of revealed truth through Christianity, her early Fathers and Doctors quickly understood that the wisdom of the Greeks was far more her heritage than that of the heathen, and was to be employed in the service and thus became itself purified and elevated to a far higher dignity. The scholastics continued to build in the same spirit on the foundations laid by the Fathers, and thus that system of Christian and Catholic science grew up, of which S. Thomas Aquinas and S. Bonaventure are the noblest representatives. “This science was Catholic in the fullest sense of the word, not only because it was moulded on, and guided by Divine truth, infallibly preserved and interpreted by the Church, but because it gathered to itself the legitimate and stable conquests of research in all ages, because it was common to all nations in communion with the Church, and because it aimed at the union of all truth, natural and supernatural, in one perfect science ”

In the fourth great fresco, Raphael wisely abstained from attempting to depict all or even the principal mysteries and miracles unveiled by revelation and confined himself to one, the mystery of mysteries and supreme miracle of all.

The name “Disputa del Sacramento” given to this picture, “which affects the spectator almost like a heavenly vision,” and was Raphael’s first great work in Rome, has been rather an obstacle than a help to the understanding of its purport. There is no strife or disputation here; on the contrary heaven and earth unite together in adoring and praising the miracle of miracles, the supreme pledge of His love bestowed on man by the Saviour of the World. The spectator seems to hear the solemn strains of the Tantum ergo breathing as it were out of the picture itself.

The representation of the Holy Trinity, conceived in the old mediaeval reverent manner, occupies the centre of the upper part of the fresco. God the Father is seen in the highest heaven in a sea of golden rays thronged with floating angels,fas if the painter’s imagination revelled in the thought of the multitudes of happy spirits in that realm of peace and bliss. On each side, on the edges of the clouds which encircle this region of light, three angels soar in flowing drapery. As Creator and Preserver, the Father holds the globe in His left hand, while the right hand is raised in blessing. Immediately below Him, in the actual centre of the heavens, is the glorified form of the only begotten Son (Rex gloriae). Perhaps this is the most beautiful representation of the Saviour that has ever been created. He is enthroned on clouds filled with angel-faces. His divinity beams forth in a golden halo melting into a semi-circle of blue sky out of which cherubs are looking down. His head is slightly bent and the wounded hands are stretched forth graciously and lovingly, inviting all men to His banquet. His shining garment leaves the wound in His side uncovered. On His left hand, S. John the Baptist .its pointing to the “Lamb of God who taketh away the sins of the world,” on the right, His Blessed Mother bends adoringly towards him with folded hands pressed to her bosom.

The “patricians of this most just and pious empire,” as Dante calls them, are ranged in a semi-circle spread underneath and stretching upwards to embrace the two sides of the central group. They, too, are enthroned on a cloud from which angel faces look out. “For the grouping of the Divine Persons, Raphael went back to the traditional type, but the arrangement of these figures is all his own and is admirable for its perfect proportions and its clearness. He mixes the representatives of the old covenant with the heroes of the new, and places these latter in a certain way in accordance with their rank in the hierarchy of the Saints : Apostles with sacred writers, ancestors of Christ together with martyrs, the former in a chronological sequence according to the age in which they lived. Those who sit on the same level on opposite sides are always in some way connected with each other.” In his selection of the Saints and their juxtaposition, Raphael was guided partly by the prayer in the mass and partly by Dante.

The series of the elect begins on the left side with S. Peter. The teacher and guardian of the Faith appears as a venerable old man holding in one hand a book and in the other the keys; his eyes are fixed upon his Master and God, who has appointed him to be His Vicar on earth, with an expression of unbounded trustfulness. Adam is next him, turning a thoughtful gaze towards him as though musing on the story of sin and redemption.

                                             Those highest in bliss,

The twain, on each hand next our Empress throned,

Are as it were two roots unto this rose.

He to the left, the parent, whose rash taste

Proves bitter to his seed ; and on the right,

That ancient father of the Holy Church,

Into whose keeping Christ did give the keys

Of this sweet flower.

                                     —Dante,

Close to, and strongly contrasting with the mighty ancestor of the human race, is the gentle and youthful form of S. John, who is writing his Gospel. David by his side, with crown and harp, is reading in the book the history which fulfilled his Old Testament prophecies. Next comes S. Lawrence, the joyous and heroic martyr-deacon; he wears a golden star on his breast and points to the theologians assembled below, round the Blessed Sacrament. Turning towards him is a figure, probably Jeremias, which is almost hidden by the central group and thus indicates that the circle behind it is unbroken.

On the right side, the series begins with the other pillar of the Church, S. Paul. The energetic pose of the figure and the strength and size of the sword on which it leans suggest both his martyrdom and the characteristic power of his doctrine. “The word of God is living and effectual, and more piercing than any two-edged sword” (Heb., IV. 12). Next to him sits Abraham with the knife in his hand preparing to sacrifice Isaac. After him comes S. James the less, absorbed in thought, holding a book, then Moses with the tables of the Law, and next to him S. Stephen. The first martyr holds a palm in his hand; he rests his arm on the Book of the Faith which he confessed, and gazing upwards seems to repeat the words which he uttered as he stood before the Council, filled with the Holy Ghost: “Behold I see the heavens opened, and the Son of man standing on the right hand of God.’ Again, on this side, half-lost behind the group of the Saviour and next to the martyr, stands one of the heroes of the old Covenant in the dress of a warrior, probably Judas Machabaeus.

The relation between the Heavenly Paradise and the Church on earth is symbolised by the descending Dove, the Holy Ghost, attended by four cherubs, each of whom carries an open Gospel in his hands. The divinity of the Holy Ghost is indicated by the halo which surrounds the Dove; the graces He bestows by the golden beams which radiate from its body. The undermost rays are prolonged to lead the eye to the monstrance with the Sacred Host, Christ in the Eucharist, the end and crown of all theological science.

A wide stretch of open country forms the background of the lower part of the picture. To the right in the plain are the massive remains of an ancient building. On an eminence to the left somewhat further off, workmen are busy on an extensive edifice which is in course of construction.

In the foreground of the picture a balustrade on each side corresponds with the two buildings which flank the landscape in the background. The middle is left free so as to concentrate the attention on the central point, towards which all the figures below turn, and on which the golden rays from the symbolical Dove descend.

Neither the altar nor the monstrance are allowed to appeal in any way to the eye. The monstrance is of the simplest character, the altar is almost without ornament, there are not even candles on the super-altar; on the altar­cloth is the monogram of Julius II. But there is the Blessed Sacrament; the smallest thing in the whole picture, yet under the form of bread the Godhead lies hidden, the one thing which, next to the Christ in heaven, draws our gaze to Itself, and rivets it there. The Holy Trinity rests immediately above the Sacred Host in which it is contained. All the saints in heaven and the legions of angels seem only to become visible for the one purpose of honouring the supreme mystery of earth; the “Bread of Life”, appears as the meeting-point in which the two spheres are united. On both sides, as though taking the place of the altar lights, stand the Doctors and Saints of the Church, Popes and Cardinals, secular and regular Priests, Scholars and Artists. “All are occupied with the miracle on the altar; some are lost in adoring wonder, some in deep thought, others absorbed in earnest conversation. This is the human part of the picture; here we find the most animated groups, figures full of emotion in the intense efforts of the mind to grasp and understand. Nevertheless, all these various expressions and characters are blended into a whole of perfect harmony and beauty. The scope of the picture stretches out far beyond its immediate subject; we see the long ages of humanity straining after knowledge, embodied in these venerable fathers striving through the abysses of religious thought to attain to clear insight. And yet over all broods the spirit of heavenly calm, the peace of the sanctuary.”

On three sides broad steps lead up to the altar, and thus facilitate a natural and varied arrangement of the groups and figures comprised in this happy company, to whom it has been granted to draw near to the Holiest, the source of all enlightenment and knowledge. On the two sides of the altar are stationed the four greatest Fathers of the Western Church; on the left, S. Jerome and S. Gregory I.; on the right, S. Ambrose and S. Augustine. They are seated to denote their office as teachers, while all the other saints are standing. S. Jerome is in the dress of a Cardinal, the lion is at his feet, by his side his letters and translation of the Bible, on his knee a book in which he is reading with an expression of strenuous attention on his face. An aged Bishop, standing close against the altar in a green cope embroidered with gold, is turning towards him, and with a countenance beaming with trust and faith, stretches out both hands towards the monstrance. Next to S. Jerome, S. Gregory the Great, in full pontificals, is seated on an antique Roman episcopal chair; he appears to have been reading, but now turns from his book to gaze with a wistful expression on the symbol of the Holy Ghost, which Paul the Deacon once saw floating over this saint’s head.

On the right side, close to the altar, an old man, in a philosopher’s robe of a blue colour, not specially designated in any way, stands turning towards S. Ambrose and pointing with his right hand to heaven. The Saint is looking upwards, his hands raised in adoring wonder, and his lips parted as though just beginning to intone his hymn of praise. Next to him is the noble figure of S. Augustine, the favourite author of the Christian humanists, dictating his confessions to a kneeling youth; his best-known work, “ the City of God,” lies at his feet.

To the right of SS. Ambrose and Augustine, both in episcopal dress, stand S. Thomas Aquinas and two prominent figures, one a Pope, the other a Cardinal. The first of these is probably Innocent III, the author of the well-known works on the Holy Mass; while the Cardinal, who wears the Franciscan habit, is undoubtedly S. Bonaventure the Seraphic Doctor. Another Pope, in a robe of gold brocade, stands at the foot of the altar-step. His features are those of Sixtus IV, Julius II’s uncle. The books in his hand and at his feet shew that he was a voluminous writer. Behind Sixtus IV the head of Dante appears crowned with a wreath of laurels.

On the extreme right side of the fresco there are a considerable number of figures, the foremost of whom is leaning over the balustrade with eyes fixed on the altar. Another man with a beard, in a yellow tunic and blue mantle, evidently a philosopher, points to Sixtus IV, as to an accredited exponent of the mystery.

A similar order is observed on the left side. Next to S. Gregory the Great is a beautiful group of three youths kneeling in adoration, while a man in a yellow mantle points to the writings of the Fathers of the Church lying on the ground beside them. Behind this group are two very striking heads of Bishops, and beyond them four religious, a Benedictine Abbot, an Augustinian, a Franciscan, and a Dominican, conversing together. This group, no doubt, is intended to indicate the large share which the religious orders have had in the building up of the scholastic theology. The corresponding figure on the opposite side to that of Sixtus IV is a noble youth with flowing golden hair, he is gently, but very earnestly trying to persuade three men to follow the example of the kneeling youths. The leader of these less advanced believers is an older man, who is supporting himself against the balustrade, and seems appealing to some sentence in an open book which he holds in his hand. The background is filled with other heads, all more or less interesting, amongst them that of Fra Angelico in blissful contemplation; the theological painter on this side answers to the theological poet on the other. The mystery of the Holy Eucharist is not only the highest study of doctors and theologians, it is also the inspiration of poets and artists; it is the focus of Christian life, the food and the strength of all Christian souls.

O Godhead hid, devoutly I adore Thee

Who truly art within the forms before me;

To Thee my heart I bow with bended knee,

As failing quite in contemplating Thee.

Sight, touch, and taste in Thee are each deceived;

The ear alone most safely is believed :

I believe all the Son of God has spoken,

Than truth’s own word there is no truer token.

Thy wounds, as Thomas saw, I do not see ;

Yet Thee confess my Lord and God to be,

Make me believe Thee ever more and more;

In Thee my hope, in Thee my love to store.

Jesu ! whom for the present veil’d I see

What I so thirst for, oh, vouchsafe to me;

That I may see thy countenance unfolding,

And may be blest Thy glory in beholding.

                                                                     Amen

“Here we have not a commemoration of Christ, we have Christ Himself. What we are here adoring is not one of the mysteries of His life, it is the sum of all these mysteries, the God-man Himself, the crown, the consummation and the comer stone of all his illuminating, grace-bestowing and redemptive work; it is the source of all graces, a sea of graces, the way to glory, and glory itself. All the treasures of nature and creation, all the miracles of grace and redemption, all the glories of heaven meet in this Sacrament, the centre of the universe. It is from here that those streams of grace flow East, West, North and South, which fertilise the whole realm of the Church; this is the source from which beams the sevenfold radiance of the Sacraments All the virtues blossom around this spring of grace, all creatures draw the waters of salvation from this well. This is the living heart whose pulsations give life to the Church, here heaven touches earth which has become the dwelling place of God.”

But the Holy Eucharist is also a Sacrifice; the artist has marked this aspect of it by showing the glorified Saviour with His wounds in heaven immediately above the Sacred Host. Without both the Sacrament and the Sacrifice the life of the Church would perish; without the mysteries of Faith, theology would lose all its efficacy. Thus, all the votaries of Christian science gather round this most precious jewel, the supreme token of God’s infinite power and mercy, in glad and grateful adoration. Again the Holy Eucharist is the bond of union between the militant and the triumphant Church. “It is the mysterious chain reaching from God in heaven down to the dust of the earth”; it brings heaven down to earth, and raises earth to heaven. The Master has symbolically expressed this in two ways, by raising the Sacred Host above the heads of all the assembly of the faithful who surround It, and by the descending rays of the Holy Ghost which come down from heaven to rest upon It As the Spirit of Charity He descends from the empyrean heaven of calm and bliss into the world to bring it the sacrament of love; as the spirit of truth, in the same act, He brings the highest enlightenment and knowledge of God. Thus He appears as the intermediary between the glorified humanity of Christ in heaven and Christ in the Holy Eucharist under the form of bread. The artist secures the connection between the upper and lower halves of the picture by a symbolism in which he also expresses the doctrines of the Catholic Faith.

“The glorified humanity of Christ under the form of bread constitutes the bond of union between the world below and the blessed above, whose joy and blessedness consist in the contemplation of the same glorified humanity unveiled in heaven. Christ here, hidden under the form of bread; Christ there, “fairest amongst the sons of men, seen as He is, one and the same Christ yesterday and today. The identity of the glorified body of the Lord on earth and in heaven is the link which joins the two parts of the picture into one whole.” Below we have faith, above, sight.

This magnificent creation can only be rightly understood from the point of view of the Catholic faith, and those to whom this is a sealed book must necessarily go astray in their attempts to decipher its meaning. This consideration alone explains the fault found by some able art-critics with the composition of the picture, because neither of the two halves preponderates in mass or import­ance over the other. From the point of view from which the fresco is conceived this very fact is one of its chief merits, for it is intended to represent the truth so strongly emphasised by all the great theologians, and especially by S. Thomas Aquinas, that the Sacred Host is essentially the Sacrament of Union.

The same Christ appears in heaven above and in the Blessed Sacrament on earth below. The whole court of heaven is gathered round the Incarnate Son of God in his character of Victim. In the picture, even God the Father and the Holy Ghost are only there, so to speak, on account of Him. What is seen below is the same as that which appears above; the only difference is that on earth the great mystery is an object of Faith, hidden under a visible symbol. But in the symbol, the Incarnate Son of God is contained, and, consequently, in virtue of the unity of the Godhead, the Father also and the Holy Ghost, and with them the whole company of angels and saints.

Joy past compare, gladness unutterable,

Imperishable life of peace and love,

Exhaustless riches and unmeasured bliss.

                                                   —Dante

Thus the Disputa represents the supreme, the absolutely perfect unity; above, the apotheosis of all the love and life of the old and new covenants in the vision of Him who is the Triune God; below, the glorification of all human knowledge and art is the faith in the real presence of the Redeemer in the Most Holy Sacrament. This is the central force which impels and harmonises all the powers of heaven and earth; all the waters of life above as well as below the firmament well up from this source, and pulsate “as in a spherical vessel from centre to circle, and so back from circle to centre.”

There is no other work of Raphael’s for which so many preparatory studies and outlines seem to have been made by the artist as for this one; the well-known sketches at Windsor, Oxford, the Louvre, Frankfort and Vienna, bear witness to the conscientious industry which he bestowed on this great composition, refusing to be content with anything short of his very best.

These preliminary studies are the only materials that we have for the history of the production of the frescoes in the Camera della Segnatura; Jovius merely mentions that Raphael painted this Stanza by order of Julius II, and an inscription states that they were finished in the year 1511. A marvellously short space of time when we consider that the artist could not have begun his work till the late Autumn of 1508, and had besides to master the technique of fresco painting. The subjects of the pictures were selected by Julius II, but for the details of their treatment no doubt the young artist consulted many of the learned men then in Rome; and it is a mistake to exaggerate their influence to such an extent as to make it appear that in his frescoes he merely carried out the programme traced for him by a committee of scholars.

In the Parnassus, humanistic conceptions are clearly traceable. It is thought by some that the influence of Christian humanism is perceptible in the Disputa, but it is more probable that all the most useful suggestions for this picture would have come to Raphael from the official theologians of the Papal Court, the Dominicans. Though Humanists were by no means excluded from the Vatican circle the old mystical and scholastic theology of the Dominicans as formulated in the Summa of S. Thomas still held its place there as the recognised system. Raphael represents the teaching of S. Thomas Aquinas idealised by his art.

The wide-spread acquaintance with mystical theology in those days, in artistic circles quite as much as elsewhere, is an element in the Art of the time which has not been at all sufficiently appreciated or understood, nor yet another point connected with this, namely, the almost universal familiarity with the Liturgy of the Church. We find the proof of this amongst the Latin races of the present day, where the common people know and readily follow the Liturgical offices of the Church. In his picture of the Transfiguration, Raphael exactly follows the Office for the Feast (6th August). It is not too much to say that he was already perfectly acquainted with the Office of the Blessed Sacrament, as compiled by S. Thomas Aquinas, and that in any consultations with Dominican theologians, the knowledge which he already possessed made it easy for him at once to grasp and follow whatever thoughts they suggested. A letter of his of the year 1514 shows that he was acquainted with Dominicans, and had received assistance from them. He was then employed in building S. Peter’s, and in his letter he says that the Pope had given him the learned Dominican, Fra Giocondo da Verona to help him, and impart to him any secrets of architecture that were known to him, “in order,” Raphael adds, “that I may perfect myself in the Art.” The Pope sends for us every day to talk for a while about the building. This shows the way in which artists worked together in the Vatican; and we may well assume that the same sort of thing went on in regard to the series of pictures in the Camera della Segnatura.

Now we come to the question of the use to which this room, by the Pope’s command, so magnificently and at the same time so seriously and thoughtfully decorated, was to be put? Here, too, we can only guess. A recent historian has put forward the following hypothesis, which seems a highly probable one. It is certain that the division of all the activities of the human mind into the four branches of Theology, Philosophy, Poetry and Jurisprudence was the Pope’s idea. He was not a learned man, and would have proposed nothing but what was simple and obvious. Now this division exactly corresponds with the plan proposed by Nicholas V, the first of the papal Maecenas, for the arrangement of his library, and which was in vogue at that time for libraries generally throughout Italy. Pietro Bembo, in a letter written in February, 1513, mentions the private library of Julius II, which, though containing fewer volumes than the large Vatican library, was superior to it both in the value of the books, and in its fittings; he especially praises its convenient situation, its splendid marble friezes, its paintings, and the seats in the windows. From a contemporaneous work by Albertini on the objects of interest in Rome, and from a payment, connected with it, we gather that this library was in an upper storey of the Vatican, and was richly decorated. When we remember that in those days books were not kept in bookshelves fixed against the wall, but in detached presses (as in the Laurentian library in Florence), there would be no difficulty in supposing that the Camera della Segnatura was intended to receive the private library of Julius II. The number of books represented in the various frescoes also makes for this hypothesis. All the allegorical figures on the ceiling hold books in their hands, except Justice, who carries the sword and scales. Angels float down from heaven, bringing the Gospels, the most venerated books of the Christians, to the faithful. The four Fathers of the Church on either side of the Blessed Sacrament are all either reading or writing books. Books lie about on the ground, and nearly all the figures, both lay and clerical, to whom names can be assigned, are identified by means of books. All the votaries of the Muses in Parnassus hold rolls or writings in their hands; and in the School of Athens there is hardly a figure that is not provided with a book or tablets. All are composing, writing, reading, expounding, so that nothing that has to do with the processes and products of authorship is left without sensible representation in some form. Even the two great philosophers are only designated by their most famous books. The Pope holds a book containing the laws of the Church, and Justinian is represented with his celebrated Pandects. In the monochromes under the Parnassus, on one side books are being discovered in a marble sarco­phagus, and on the other books are being burnt. There is no other series of paintings in the world in which literature takes so prominent a place; almost everything in some way refers to it.”

It seems as if in the supposition that this room was intended to contain the Pope’s private library, we ought also to include a further one, namely, that Julius II meant besides that, to make it his study and business chamber, which the name Camera della Segnatura (chamber for signatures) seems to imply. “These paintings were to form the adornment of the room in which the Head of the Church was to sign the papers and provisions drawn up for the good of the Church. Theology and Philosophy, Poetry and Law, representing revealed truth, human reason, beauty and Christian order, were to preside from the walls over his decisions and their final sanction.’’

But whatever view may be adopted as to the distinction of the Camera della Segnatura, there should not be any doubt as to the meaning and connection of the frescoes in it. An utterly unfounded theory has been recently put forward, and stoutly defended, that these frescoes represent “ the humanistic ideal of free thought, and were intended as a monumental expression of the achievements of the unaided human intellect.” Far from doing homage to the Church and the Papacy, their purpose is declared to be “to exhibit the superiority of free thought and investigation apart from revelation in matters of religion to the ecclesiasticism of the time”.

In all these suppositions modern ideas are imported into the age of Raphael, and a single glance at the frescoes ought to show how untenable they are But it may be asked whether the devotion of an equal space to the glorification of Philosophy with that which is given to Theology does not indicate an approach to the anti-ecclesiastical spirit of the heathen Renaissance? The answer is that this view is excluded by Raphael himself in the manner in which he treats the two subjects. In the first place, there is a tone of solemnity in the Disputa which distinguishes it from all the other frescoes, and its arrangement, being divided into two halves, one heavenly and the other earthly, is quite different from that of any other. Again, in the composition of the School of Athens there is no parallel to that concentration on a single central point, dominating and animating the whole, which we find in the Disputa. Plato and Aristotle appear as the greatest of the philosophers, each attended by a separate band of disciples; each represent a different point of view. The various philosophical schools are all more or less distinctly divided from each other, and their independ­ence and exclusiveness is marked on the left side of the picture by the separate stone seats occupied by the different teachers. Finally, there is a striking difference also in the scene of the picture. “Here we see no opening heaven shewing a Divine victim, the Redeemer of the world; no supernatural ray descends on earth to enlighten the human intelligence”. Here, as the inscription above denotes, the human intellect wrestles alone with the nature of things, striving after knowledge. Plato, the philosopher of natural theology, signifies its incompetence by pointing upwards. By placing the Disputa opposite, Raphael emphasises the contrast between it and this intellectual laboratory. Here truth is laboriously sought for, there it is seen embodied and perfect, and in a perfection unlike anything that the ancient world ever dreamed of as possible, a fulness beyond all human thought or imagination, such as could only have been conceived by the boundless love of the Saviour of mankind who chose under the simple form of bread to remain with his own, even to the consummation of the world.”

In another way also the artist marked the relation between the sciences and the Church from his point of view, namely in the Grisailles or imitation bas-reliefs painted in monochrome, which fill the space underneath the two sides of the Parnassus. “The two doors at the end of the long sides of the room open immediately against the wall and then these grisailles are the first things to catch the eye on entering the room and the last to be looked at on leaving it. This, therefore, was the most suitable place for the prologue and epilogue of the whole series expressing their general idea and purport”. Although these reliefs are some of Raphael’s best and most finished work, they remained for a long time little observed or understood. It is only quite recently that the attention they deserve has been bestowed upon them, and that it has been discovered that the painter intended them to illustrate, in the person of Sixtus IV, Julius II’s uncle, the attitude of the Papacy towards the true and the false learning. The burning of the books was perfectly intelligible to Raphael’s contemporaries, for the censorial edicts of 1491 and 1501 must certainly have been in force in Rome as well as elsewhere.

Thus it is clear that far from being intended to serve as a glorification of the false humanistic ideal, the purpose of the frescoes in the Camera della Segnatura was to illustrate the four great intellectual forces, Theology, Philosophy, Poetry, and Jurisprudence in their relation to the Church. It was in the alliance with intellectual culture that the Church and the Papacy had won all their beneficent victories and consolidated their power. It was this alliance, the true connection between intellectual culture and Christendom and the Church, which was celebrated in Raphael’s picture. The Holy See had always maintained that secular knowledge could only attain its highest perfection under the guidance of the organ of Divine wisdom, the Church, by whose authority alone it could be preserved from errors and distorted growths. Like all the artistic undertakings of Julius II, the frescoes in the Camera della Segnatura are a development, not only of the designs of the great Popes of the early Renaissance, Nicholas V and Sixtus IV, but also of the ancient traditions of the Papacy itself. The grand and simple fundamental idea in them all belongs to Julius II; the genius displayed in realising it in Art is Raphael’s and has helped to immortalise the painter’s name. In this wonderful poem in four cantos, painted on the walls of the Stanze, the artist spreads out before us the whole and vast regions of human knowledge and achievement as seen from the point of view of the Church, and in the light of revelation. “All material things are presented as mirrored in and vivified by a creative spirit which is at once poetical and real”, while “the reproduction of the life of the classical world is combined in perfect harmony with the dearest and deepest apprehension of Christian principles. And all the abstract thought is bathed in an atmosphere of beauty and grace which yet never detracts from the grave and intellectual character of the pictures”. One is glad to think that one of the saddest passages in the Pope’s life may have been soothed in a measure by the sight of these frescoes.

On the 27th of June, 1511, he had returned to his capital powerless and ill and harassed with anxieties, both political and ecclesiastical. On the eve of the Feast of the Assumption Michael Angelo’s roof-paintings in the Sistine had been unveiled. The frescoes in the Camera della Segnatura must have been completed very soon after this, as the inscription states that they were finished in the eighth year of Julius II’s Pontificate, and this closed on the 26th of November, 1511.

The surpassingly admirable manner in which Raphael had executed the Pope’s first commission, determined Julius to entrust the painting of the next room, called from the subject of its chief fresco the Stanza d’Eliodoro, to him also. While these large works were in progress Raphael also executed several smaller commissions for easel-pictures, amongst others some for Julius II, one of which was a Madonna for Su Maria del Popolo, the favourite church of the Rovere. Unfortunately, this picture has disappeared since the year 1615. From copies of it we see that it represents the waking from sleep of the Divine child. The Madonna is holding up the veil which had covered him, and looks thoughtfully down at her son while he stretches his little arms towards her. S. Joseph is in the background leaning on a staff. He also ordered a portrait of himself for the same church. Vasari praises this picture as being such an excellent likeness that it inspires as much awe as if the Pope himself were present, and it still gives one the impression of being a characteristic portrait. The Pope is sitting in an armchair, his smooth, almost white, beard falls over a red velvet cape which he wears over his shoulders, and the expression of his face is thoughtful and care-worn. Many copies of this picture were taken almost immediately. Florence possesses two, one in the Uffizi and the other in the Palazzo Pitti, but critics are not agreed as to which is the original.

Raphael also executed a likeness of the Pope’s favourite, Cardinal Alidosi.

It is difficult to understand how the artist could have found time to paint so many other pictures in addition to all his work for the Pope. There is quite a long list of exquisite Madonnas, all bearing dates falling within the reign of Julius II. The markedly religious tone in all the pictures of this period is noteworthy.

This is specially the case in the two wonderfully beautiful Madonnas painted by him in the last year of the Pontiffs life; the Madonna di Foligno, now in the Vatican gallery, and the Madonna del Pesce. Like the Stanza d’Eliodoro both these pictures bear marks of the influence of Sebastiano del Piombo: Raphael made no secret of his admiration for the style of this master. The Madonna di Foligno was a votive picture ordered by Julius II’s secretary and friend, Sigismondo de’ Conti, who is represented in it kneeling with folded hands before the Queen of Heaven. “She is enthroned on a cloud encircled with a golden glory and attended by angels.” It is the ideal of what a Christian Altarpiece should be, and is in perfect preservation, its colours as brilliant as when it was first painted.

The Madonna del Pesce, now in the Museum at Madrid, is also a perfect gem of religious art. It was a thank­offering for the cure of an affection of the eyes. In depth of expression it is rightly judged to be one of Raphael’s masterpieces, if, indeed, it is not in this respect, and also in the harmony of its colouring, the most beautiful of all his works. “The brilliant red of S. Jerome’s robe is enhanced in its effect by the brownish yellow of the lion at the feet and the more orange tint of Tobias’ tunic, and these two shades combine harmoniously with the subdued ruby tones of the Angel’s dress. These warm colours are tempered by the blue of the Virgin’s mantle, while this again is relieved by the tender carnations of the infant Christ; and the sage green curtain in the background makes all the figures stand out as in a brilliant light. The Madonna del Pesce might be designated as a chord of the three primary colours.”

The colossal Isaias, attended by two angels, which is now in the church of S. Agostino in Rome was painted by Raphael for another member of the Papal Court, the German Prelate, John Goritz.

Raphael also executed some paintings in the corridors leading from the Vatican to the Belvedere, but they have all perished, and there is no record of their subjects. All we know of them is from an account which shows that he received a payment for work done there.

All this time his work in the Stanza d’Eliodoro was never interrupted, but he was obliged to avail himself largely of the assistance of his pupil Giulio Romano.

Baldassare Peruzzi had already finished the decoration of the ceiling of this room and painted scenes from the Old Testament in the four divisions of the vaulting. Raphael retained these decorations without any alteration, and set to work at once on the walls. The Pope died before this Stanza was completed, and it is not recorded whether the selection of the subjects in the frescoes was his. It seems, however, extremely probable that this was the case, as the first of the series and the one that is most carefully finished, is the so-called Mass of Bolsena, and Julius and his family had shown a special interest in the incident which it commemorates.

It represents a miracle which occurred at Bolsena in the year 1263, and created an immense impression at the time. A German priest had been greatly tormented with doubts as to the truth of the doctrine of Transubstantiation, and had earnestly prayed for a sign that should dispel them. His prayer was granted in the church of Sta Cristina at Bolsena, where he had stopped in the course of a pilgrimage to Rome. While he was saying Mass there, at the moment of consecration, drops of Blood oozed from the Sacred Host in sufficient quantity to stain the Corporal. This miracle constituted one of the motives which had determined Urban IV to institute the Feast of Corpus Christi. By his orders the relic was brought to Orvieto, and the splendid Cathedral there was built mainly for it. The Bishop of Orvieto gave a magnificent silver tabernacle, ornamented with twelve pictures in enamel, representing the history of the miracle, to contain the relic. In 1477 Sixtus IV granted various Indulgences to promote the veneration of the relic and the building of the Cathedral. Julius II when staying at Orvieto on his first expedition against Bologna had manifested great reverence for this relic. Probably it was on this occasion that the Pope determined to have the miracle represented at some time in the Vatican, and it is not unlikely that he bound himself by a vow to honour the relic in some special manner. Now that all that had then been won seemed lost, he may have remembered this promise.

Raphael’s sympathetic grasp of his patron’s thought is as striking as the power with which he gives artistic expression to the Pope’s indomitable confidence in the Divine assistance, and firm conviction that all pusillanimous doubters will be put to shame. In this picture the difficulties to be overcome in the shape of the space at his disposal were even greater than those which he had to conquer in the Parnassus, and here as there he triumphed over all and turned his limitations into additional beauties. There is no trace of any sort of constraint, and the com­position of the picture arranges itself quite naturally, over and on each side of the window which cuts into the wall. Above its arch is the choir of a church with its altar, approached on each side by a broad flight of steps. In this case the window, not being in the middle of the wall,  but thrust very much into the left corner, was still more difficult to manage; however, Raphael had met this by broadening the steps on the right side so as to preserve the sense of symmetry. A balustrade completely encloses the choir, and the spacious aisles of a Renaissance church constitute the background. The priest stands on the left side of the altar holding the Sacred Host in one hand, and in the other the Blood-stained Corporal. In the expression of his face, astonishment, shame, contrition and fear are admirably combined. From the other side of the balustrade two youths gaze intently at the miracle in mute amazement. Three acolytes are kneeling with lighted candles behind the priest, a fourth in a bright coloured cassock raises his hand with an expressive gesture as though to say, “See! it is indeed as the Church teaches!” The emotions of the beholders, which in the nearer figures are those of subdued awe and reverence, become more mingled with excitement in the groups of people who are pressing up the steps on the left side to get a better view. Some are bowing low in adoring prayer, others pointing with outstretched hands to the marvel, others triumphantly thanking God for this confirmation of the faith of the Church. The perception and apprehension of the miracle seems to flow like a spiritual stream through the throng of worshippers on the left and is just beginning to reach the women and children sitting on the lowest steps.” In marked contrast to all this flutter and stir is the perfect calm of the Pope and those who are with him on the right­hand side. The contrast is further emphasised by the steady flame of the altar lights on this side while on the left they are flickering and bent as though by a strong wind. The Pope, unmistakeably Julius II, kneels on a prie-Dieu, exactly opposite the priest, with his face turned towards the altar absorbed in adoration. His whole attitude expresses the assured faith which befits the Head of the Church; there is not a trace of emotion or surprise. No doubt the master had often seen the old Pope in this attitude during those critical days when the Church was in such jeopardy. Two Cardinals and two other clerics appear on the steps below, in attendance on the Pope, and on the lowest, some soldiers of the Swiss Guard kneel in silent wonder; near them is the Pope’s Sedia gestatoria. One of the Cardinals, generally thought to be Raffaele Riario, has his hands crossed on his breast and is looking at the priest with a grave and stern expression. The other, with folded hands, adores the miraculous Blood; both heads are most impressive. For skilful composition, truth and depth of expression, and magnificence in colouring, perhaps the picture is the best of the whole series.

In its homage to the Blessed Sacrament, towards which Julius II had a special devotion the Mass of Bolsena is the connecting link between this Stanza and the adjoining one, which contains the Disputa; in representing a miracle it strikes the key-note of the Stanza d’Eliodoro where the fundamental idea is the representation of God’s unfailing care for His Church by instances of His direct intervention for her support and protection in the hour of need. The history of the reign of Julius II was a signal illustration of the truth. In the Summer of 1511, when Italy seemed at the mercy of the French, how wonderfully the storm blew over! Again in August when the Pope was to all appearances dying, he seemed to have been miraculously restored in order to negotiate the Holy League by means of which the unity of the Church was saved. Although the battle was not yet wholly won, Julius II—and Raphael with him—had the fullest confidence that God would not withdraw from his Vicar that protection which as yet had never failed. And they were not mistaken. The schismatic Council melted away, Louis XII was driven back, and French domination in Italy was annihilated. It was most natural that the artist, even without having received any special orders to this effect should have embodied in his pictures the thoughts which were filling the mind of the Pope and all his surroundings at the time. Thus this series of paintings sprung out of the historical events of the day, and spoke a language that all could understand.

The fresco which occupies one of the longer walls of the Stanza, and gives it its name, portrays the miraculous expulsion of Heliodorus from the Temple, narrated in the 2nd Book of Machabees. Heliodorus, the treasurer of the Syrian King, Seleucus Philopater, was sent to carry off the contents of the treasury of the Temple of Jerusalem. When, however, he attempted to execute his commission the spirit of the Almighty God gave a great evidence of his presence, so that all that had presumed to obey him, falling down by the power of God, were struck with fainting and dread, For there appeared to them a horse with a terrible rider upon him, adorned with a very rich covering, and he ran fiercely and struck Heliodorus with his fore-feet, and he that sat upon him seemed to have armour of gold.

Moreover, there appeared two other young men beautiful and strong, bright and glorious, and in comely apparel, who stood by him on either side and scourged him without ceasing, with many stripes. And Heliodorus suddenly fell to the ground, .... and they acknowledged “the manifest power of God .... but the Jews praised the Lord because He had glorified his place.” (Machabees, II, 3, 24 seq.) Raphael, following the text of Scripture as closely as possible has represented the scene “with marvellous dramatic power.”

The spectator looks into the nave of the Temple. At the altar in the background, lighted by the seven-branched candlestick, the High Priest is praying; behind him the other priests and a number of people who display by their gestures their surprise and joy at this manifestation of the mighty hand of God. The centre of the foreground is purposely left empty that nothing may distract the eye from the sudden irresistible inrush of the heavenly emissaries who burst in at the right-hand corner. The horseman in his golden armour, and the swift youths with their sweeping scourges have just arrived in time. Heliodorus is dashed to the ground, the urn full of coins has slipped from his hands, the fore-feet of the horse are almost upon him, his terrified attendants strive in vain to escape. “The poetic feeling in this group is marvellous, we see as it were the lightning of God’s wrath blasting the sinner; opposite, on the other side, there is a charming cluster of women and children in various attitudes of surprise and alarm.” Behind these figures, “reminiscences of which may be traced like echoes in various forms through all later art”, Julius II appears, borne in his chair high above the heads of the throng of people into this Old Testament assembly. Calm and dignified, he seems to recognise in God’s dealings with His people under the old covenant the same mighty hand which had so unexpectedly discomfited the schismatic Cardinals and brought the Anti-Papal Council to naught: “For he that hath his dwelling in the heavens, is the visitor and protector of that place and he striketh and destroyed them that come to do evil to it.” (Machabees, II., 3, 39-)

Julius II died before the two succeeding frescoes were finished, but the subjects of them were certainly chosen during his lifetime.

On the opposite wall to Heliodorus, Raphael painted the meeting of Leo I with Attila. This famous interview (at which, according to the mediaeval legend, S. Peter appeared in the heavens above the head of his successor) took place on the banks of the Mincio near Mantua; Raphael transfers it to the vicinity of Rome. To the left, in the distance, we see some ruins, a basilica and the Colosseum, while, on the right, the flames rising from a burning village, denote the approach of the barbarians. Calm and assured in his trust in God the Pope comes forward to meet Attila, attired in full Pontificals and sitting on his white palfrey attended by his peaceful followers. Julius II being dead by this time, the Pontiff is represented with the features of Leo X. The majestic forms of the Princes of the Apostles appear with drawn swords in the sky over his head. A halo of light proceeds from them, which sheds a soft radiance over the troop of priests, and fills the barbarian horsemen with terror and dismay. The heavens are darkened, violent gusts of wind sweep back the banners, the startled horses rear and turn. The eyes of the terror-stricken soldiers are fixed on the apparition, while their leader has dropped the reins, and turns his horse to fly, with an involuntary pressure of the knee; even then, in the Summer of 1512, were the “barbarian” hordes of France put to flight, to be again more completely routed and expelled in the following year at Novara.

The subject on the other wall over the window and opposite to the Mass of Bolsena is the narrative in the Acts of the Apostles (chap. XII.) of S. Peter’s deliverance from prison. The composition of the picture is perhaps not quite so perfect as that of the other, but nevertheless it is full of beauties. In all the pictures in the Stanza d’Eliodoro Raphael had paid more attention to effects of colour than he did in the Camera della Segnatura. In the splendid colouring of the Mass of Bolsena the influence of the Venetian, Sebastiano del Piombo, can be already traced. In the fresco of the Deliverance of S. Peter, which emphatically summarises the leading idea of the pictures in the Stanza d’Eliodoro, namely, the futility of all human attacks upon the divinely protected Church and her head, Raphael has to some extent resorted to effects produced by light, but with great sobriety and restraint. To the left of the window, on a flight of steps, we see the terrified guard who have discovered that their prisoner is gone. Moonlight and torchlight are combined in this scene. In the centre there is a grating so cleverly painted that we feel as if we could lay hold of it Through this the interior of the prison is visible, lighted by the radiant angel who is in the act of waking the Apostle while the soldiers to whom he is chained still sleep. “This scene is marvellously effective in its simplicity and reality and its glamour of supernatural light”. On the right S. Peter appears again, passing out between the sleeping guards and led by the angel, from whom all the light proceeds. This heavenly form and the spiritual radiance which it diffuses are rightly considered to be one of the artist’s most divine inspirations,

This fresco is most commonly thought to be meant as an allusion to the escape of Cardinal de’ Medici (afterwards Leo X) out of the hands of the French after the Battle of Ravenna. As according to the inscription on the window this picture was not finished till 1514, this interpretation may very possibly have been current even at the time; but it seems more probable that the design dates back to Julius II and really has reference to him. S. Pietro in Vincoli was the titular church of Julius II when he was a Cardinal; and on the 23rd June, 1512, he made a special pilgrimage to it to thank God there for his victory over the French. It seems exceedingly probable that the Court painter was commissioned to employ his art in the idealisation of this great triumph which was so gorgeously celebrated at that time. Thus the Mass of Bolsena would commemorate the prayer of the Pope before the relic at Orvieto in 1506, at the commencement of his great enterprise for the reconstitution of the States of the Church, and the deliverance of S. Peter, his thanksgiving in 1512, at the end of his course for the overthrow of the French before the altar of S. Pietro in Vincoli.

The whole fabric of the enchanted realm of Raphael’s Vatican pictures rests upon one simple but far-reaching thought. It is that of the greatness and triumph of the Church; her greatness in her wisdom, and her centre, the Papacy; her triumph in the wonderful ways in which God continues to guard and protect the successor of him to whom the promise was given. “Thou art Peter and on this rock I will build my Church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.”

It seems a remarkable providence of God that Julius II, the founder of the great Cathedral of the world, should have been led to charge the greatest of Christian painters, with the task of illustrating the doctrine of the most Holy Sacrament, which was on the point of being so passionately controverted, and the unfailing Divine protection, which ever preserves the Church and the Head at the very moment when the most terrible storm, which the Papacy in its course of nearly two thousand years has ever had to encounter, was about to burst upon it.