CRISTO RAUL.ORG |
READING HALLTHE DOORS OF WISDOM |
HISTORY OF THE POPES FROM THE CLOSE OF THE MIDDLE AGES |
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BOOK 11PIUS 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 17th 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.
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