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BOOK I
.
THE GREAT SCHISM. 1378-1414.
CHAPTER VIII.
JOHN XXIII.
1410-1414
Alexander V died on May 3; and before the eighteen
Cardinals who were in Bologna entered the Conclave, their minds were made up as
to his successor. Louis of Anjou, who was preparing an expedition against
Ladislas, hoped that the energy of Cossa, which he had experienced in the
previous year, would secure his success against Naples. He sent pressing
admonitions to the French Cardinals to procure Cossa’s election, which indeed
the political aspect of affairs seemed to render almost necessary. It was to no
purpose that Carlo Malatesta sent envoys to beg the Cardinals to defer their
election in the hope of procuring the peace of the Church. Cossa answered that
Gregory was entirely in the hands of Ladislas, and nothing could be expected
from him; that the Cardinals could not abandon the cause of Louis of Anjou
after encouraging him to proceed so far; and that in the present condition of
affairs in Rome a Pope was absolutely necessary to keep the city from again
falling into the hands of Ladislas; moreover the Cardinals themselves, if they
did not elect a Pope, would be without the necessaries of life and the Curia
would be dissolved. The envoys tried to alarm Cossa with the fear of a rival
for the Papacy. Cossa replied that he knew not how the votes might go; for his
own part, though he was not a man of great knowledge, he had done for the Church
more than the rest : if a friend were elected, he would be satisfied; if a foe,
it might be better for his own soul. Carlo’s envoys were worsted in the
encounter with Cossa, and could do no more than beseech the Cardinals, on the
eve of the Conclave, to bind him who might be elected to abdicate if his rivals
abdicated, or to unite with them in summoning a General Council. No heed was
paid to Malatesta’s entreaties; the place, the political situation, made Cossa
for the time omnipotent. The Cardinals entered the Conclave on the evening of
May 14, and Cossa’s election was announced on the 17th. He was enthroned in
state in the Church of S. Petronio on May 25, and took the title of John XXIII.
The Cardinals cannot have hid from themselves that the
election of Cossa was not likely to be approved on any but political grounds.
No one could look upon Cossa as an ecclesiastic, or as having any real interest
in the spiritual affairs of the Church. He was a man of vigor, possessing all
the qualities of a successful condottiere general. He had kept down the city of
Bologna, had extended his power over neighboring States, had protected the
Council of Pisa from Ladislas, and was the firm ally of Louis of Anjou. But he
was more at home in a camp than in a church; his private life exceeded
even the bounds of military licence; it was a grotesque and blasphemous
incongruity to look upon such a man as the Vicar of Christ.
John XXIII soon found that his lofty position was a
hindrance rather than a help; his character was more fitted for decisive and
energetic action as occasion offered than for pursuing with astuteness a
careful and deliberate policy. From the first, things went contrary to him and
his ally Louis of Anjou. The loss of Genoa by the French threw a great
hindrance in the way of Louis. Genoa since 1396 had submitted to its French
governor, Jean le Maingre, Marshal Boucicaut, but gradually grew more and more
discontented with his rule. As taxes weighed heavily commerce did not prosper;
and the Genoese felt themselves involved in a policy which was alien to their
old traditions, and which might be in the interests of Boucicaut or of France,
but was not in the interests of Genoa. Boucicaut’s interference in the affairs
of Milan especially angered the Genoese, till the Marquis of Montferrat in
Boucicaut’s absence marched to Genoa, and was welcomed by the citizens, who, on
September 6, threw off the French rule, declared themselves free, and chose the
Marquis of Montferrat to be captain of their Republic with all the powers of
the old Doges. When Genoa had thus thrown off the French yoke, it warmly
espoused the cause of Ladislas against Louis, and from its commanding position
at sea rendered difficult to Louis the transport of soldiers. As was to be
expected, John XXIII hastened to identify his cause with that of Louis.
On May 25, the day Louis of on which were dated the
encyclical letters announcing his election, he issued also letters commending
the cause of Louis to all archbishops, princes, and magistrates, exhorting them
to receive him with all respect and lend him all the aid that he required. The
Pope’s admonition came too late so far as the Genoese were concerned; for on
May 16, they had intercepted and destroyed five of the galleys in which Louis
was bringing his forces for a new expedition. Louis with the rest of his
squadron landed at Pisa, whence he went to Bologna, which he entered somewhat
crestfallen on June 6. Still his army was powerful, and great things were to be
expected from the Pope’s help. But John soon found that he was less powerful as
Pope than he had been as Legate. No sooner did the cities which he had subdued
feel that the hand of their master was slackened by his elevation to a higher
office, than they hastened to throw off the yoke to which they had unwillingly
submitted. On June 12, came the news that Giorgio degli Ordelaffi had recovered
Forli; and on June 18, that Faenza had thrown off the Papal rule and had taken
Giovanni dei Manfreddi for its lord. These revolts were clearly due to the
influence of Carlo Malatesta, who, after protesting against John’s election,
declared against him and sided with Ladislas. John felt that for the present he
was over-mastered; he saw that he could not trust his mercenaries, nor, when
revolt was so near, did he venture to leave Bologna, which he knew that he only
held by force. On June 23, Louis set out for Rome without his friend and
adviser, and the Pope, with rage in his heart, was compelled, sorely against
his will, to stay behind.
John’s first endeavor was to win over Carlo Malatesta
to his side, promising that if he would recognize him and he would exert all
his influence on his behalf. Malatesta replied that, though he had esteemed him
as Legate of Bologna, he could not in conscience recognize him as Pope, for which
post he was unfit; he besought him to join with Gregory in a renunciation of
the Papacy; in that case he promised to help him with all his power. John
endeavored to protract the negotiations; but in Carlo Malatesta he had to deal
with as strong a character as his own, and a keener wit. In spite of his
efforts he could gain nothing.
In Germany also John had to watch events eagerly, and
struggle to hold his own against his rival Gregory. The schism in the Papacy
had been reproduced in the Empire; and Rupert, who owed his position to the
help of Boniface IX, refused to acknowledge the Conciliar Pope. This made
Rupert’s enemies more eager in the support of Alexander V, and a civil war
seemed imminent in Germany when Rupert suddenly died on May 18, 1410. Wenzel’s
party was now anxious that no new election should be made, and that Wenzel
should be universally recognized as King of the Romans. His opponents, though
determined to proceed to a new election, were divided between the rival Popes.
Rupert’s son, the Elector Palatine, and the Archbishop of Trier were in favor
of Gregory XII; the Archbishop of Mainz was on the side of John XXIII. Four
only out of the seven electors met at Frankfurt on September 1, for a new
election. Wenzel, who as King of Bohemia was an elector, of course kept aloof,
as did also Rudolf of Saxony: it was doubtful who had the right to vote as
Elector of Brandenburg, which Sigismund, King of Hungary, had mortgaged to his
cousin Jobst, Markgraf of Moravia. It soon became clear that the four electors
differed too deeply on the ecclesiastical question to agree in the choice of a
new king. On September 12, the Archbishops of Mainz and Koln made preparations
for departure. But the Archbishop of Trier and the Elector Palatine proceeded
to an election; they recognized Sigismund as Elector of Brandenburg, and
accepted his representative Frederick, Burggraf of Nurnberg, as his proxy.
Though the Archbishop of Mainz laid the city under an interdict, and closed all
the churches against them, they went through the accustomed ceremonies in the
churchyard of the Cathedral, and, on September 20, announced that they had
elected Sigismund King of the Romans. At this elevation of his younger brother,
Wenzel felt himself doubly aggrieved, and Jobst of Moravia wished to
assert his claims to Brandenburg. They hastened to send representatives to
support the recalcitrant Archbishops of Mainz and Koln, who thereon proceeded,
on October 1, to elect Jobst of Moravia, reserving to Wenzel, as the price of
his submission, the title, though not the authority, of King of the Romans.
There were now three claimants to the Empire as there
were three claimants to the Papacy. It was said that three kings were again
come to adore Christ, but they were not like the three wise men of old. John
XXIII was anxious to secure Sigismund to his side; for Sigismund had remained
neutral towards the Council of Pisa, and since then had shown signs of a
reconciliation with Gregory XII. John issued Bulls declaring his affection for
Sigismund; but still Sigismund’s attitude remained ambiguous, till the death of
Jobst on January 8, 1411, made his position more sure. There was now no one to
stand in his way if he could manage to reconcile his personal differences with
the electors who had opposed him. The besotted Wenzel was won over by hopes of
obtaining for himself the Imperial Crown, and by Sigismund’s promise to content
himself during Wenzel’s lifetime with the title of King of the Romans. The
Archbishop of Mainz made his own terms with Sigismund; among them was a
stipulation for the recognition of John. Finally on July 21, 1411, Sigismund
was unanimously elected King of the Romans. Thenceforth the doubtful allegiance
of Germany was at an end, and the recognition of John XXIII as rightful Pope
was at once carried out.
In Naples John’s cause was not so successful. The
expedition of Louis in 1410 came to nothing. He entered Rome and displayed
himself to the citizens, who always liked to have a distinguished guest within
their walls; but he had no money for his soldiers and could not keep together
the different elements of which his army was composed. After waiting helpless
in Rome till the end of the year, he set out for Bologna to beg the Pope to
come to Rome and help him — a request which was echoed by the Roman people.
John by this time saw that Carlo Malatesta could only be reduced to obedience
if he were deprived of his ally Ladislas. He determined to leave Bologna to its
fate, and help Louis to prosecute the war against Ladislas with vigor. On March
31, 1411, John left Bologna and moved towards Rome, accompanied by his
Cardinals and attended by a brilliant escort of French and Italian nobles. On
April 11, he reached San Pancrazio, and, on April 12, entered the city amid the
acclamations of the people. On April 14, the city magistrates, to the number of
forty-six, appeared before him with lighted torches in their hands and did him
obeisance.
On April 23, the banners of the Pope, King Louis, and
Paolo Orsini were blessed with great pomp and ceremony, and, on April 28, John
had the proud satisfaction of seeing the strongest force that Italy could raise
set forth to drive Ladislas from the throne of Naples. The chief leaders of
condottieri had all been won over by John to the side of Louis; and the Neapolitans
heard with terror that the four best generals in the world — Braccio da
Montone, Sforza da Cotignola, Paolo Orsini, and Gentile da Monterno — were
marching against them. Ladislas advanced to Rocca Secca and took up a strong
position on the heights above the little river Melfa. Louis pitched his camp
opposite, and for eight days the two armies faced one another. At last, on the
evening of May 19, the troops of Louis crossed the river in the evening and
fell upon the enemy unexpectedly as they were at supper. The rout was complete;
many of the chiefs were taken prisoners in their tents; Ladislas with
difficulty escaped to San Germano; all his possessions fell into the enemy’s
hands.
John received with joy the news of this victory, which
was soon followed by trophies from the battle-field — the standards of Ladislas
and Gregory; he caused them to be hung from the Campanile of S. Peter in
derision. Nor was this enough to gratify his pride; on May 25, he rode with his
Cardinals, followed by all the clergy and people, to the Church of San Giovanni
in Laterano. Four archbishops and bishops bore the holy relic of the head of S.
John Baptist; and with strange incongruity the procession was brought up by the
banners of Ladislas and Gregory trailed in the dust. The wiser members of the
Curia looked with disgust on this premature display of insolent triumph, which
was neither judicious nor befitting the Head of the Church. Their feeling was
well founded, for it soon appeared that though Louis’ victory was complete, he
did not know how to use it. After the battle his generals differed; Sforza
urged the immediate pursuit of Ladislas; Orsini exclaimed that enough had been
done for one day; the soldiers meanwhile betook themselves to plunder the camp.
Delay was fatal, as the prisoners were enabled to negotiate their ransoms and
even buy back their arms from the victors. Ladislas himself said that on the
day of the battle the enemy were masters both of his person and of his kingdom;
the next day, though they had missed him, they might have seized his kingdom;
the third day they could neither take him nor his kingdom. In fact, Ladislas
bought back his army from the needy soldiers of Louis, and again manned the
defiles which led towards Naples. In the camp of Louis there were contentions
between the generals, want of food, sickness, and clamors for pay. On July
12, Louis returned with his victorious army to Rome, having gained nothing. Men
began to see that his cause was hopeless; and when, on August 3, he took ship
on the Ripa Grande to return to Provence, none of the Roman nobles, who had
been so obsequious to him on his arrival, thought it worthwhile to escort him
on his departure. They were right in their judgment: Louis died in 1417,
without making any further attempts on the Neapolitan kingdom.
John XXIII had been entirely disappointed of his hopes
when they seemed on the very verge of attainment. Moreover by moving to Rome to
help Louis, he lost Bologna. Scarcely had he left it when, on May 12, the cry
was raised “Viva il popolo e le Arti”; the Cardinal of Naples, who had been
left as legate, was driven out; the people elected their own magistrates, set
up again their old republican form of government, and vigorously repulsed Carlo
Malatesta, who had fomented the rising in hopes of gaining possession of the
city. Before this also Ladislas had managed to detach Florence and Siena from
their league with the Pope, by selling to the Florentines Cortona, and saving
their honor by the easy promise that he would not occupy Rome nor any other
place in the direction of Tuscany. John found himself left alone to face
Ladislas, who was smarting under the sense of his late defeat. Of course he
excommunicated him, deprived him of his kingdom and proclaimed a crusade
against him; but these did Ladislas little harm. John’s only hope was in the
fidelity of the condottieri generals who were in his pay, and he soon found how
slender were his grounds for trusting them. In May, 1412, Sforza, who was
carrying on the war in Naples, deserted the side of the Pope and took service
with Ladislas.
From this time forward Sforza becomes one of the chief
figures in Italian history. We have seen how Alberigo da Barbiano was the first
to form a soldier band of his countrymen to take the place of the lawless
companies of foreign mercenaries who had, since the decay of the citizen
militia, made Italy their prey. The last and greatest of the foreign captains
was an English-man, Sir John Hawkwood, whose adventurous career was closed at
Florence in 1394. The Florentines paid due honor to the great general, whose
equestrian portrait, painted by the hand of Paolo Uccelli and one of the
masterpieces of early realism in art, still adorns the wall of the Florentine
Cathedral. Though a skillful soldier, Hawkwood, as might be expected, was
merely an adventurer whose trade was plunder. His tenor of mind is well
illustrated by a tale of the old Florentine story-teller, Franco Sacchetti. One
day, when Hawkwood was at his castle of Montecchio, two friars approached him
with the usual greeting, “God give you peace”. “God take away your alms,” was
Hawkwood’s reply. The astonished friars asked why he answered thus.
“Why spoke you as you did?” was the question. “Sire, we thought that
we said well”. “How thought you that you said well”, exclaimed Hawkwood, “when
you wished that God might make me die of hunger? Know you not that I live on
war and that peace would undo me? I live on war as you live on alms, and so I
returned your greeting in like sort as you gave it”. Sacchetti adds that
Hawkwood knew well how to cause that there should be no peace in Italy in his
days. With the formation of native companies, warfare became more humane and
pillage less terrible. The Italian soldiers were connected with their leaders
by other ties than those simply of pillage. They were gradually brought under
more systematic discipline, and became trained armies rather than troops of
plundering adventurers. Alberigo da Barbiano did much to bring about this
result, and the two great generals of the generation that followed his death in
1409 had both been trained under his command.
The early life of Sforza is characteristic both of the
man and of the times. Muzio Attendolo was born in Early Cotignola, a little
town in the Romagna, in 1369. He was of a peasant stock, and worked in the
fields, when one day there passed a band of soldiers and enquired the way.
Struck by his stalwart aspect, one of them asked why he did not follow their
example instead of pursuing his dreary toil. The peasant waited before replying,
then, seeking for an augury, threw his hoe into a tree, resolving that if it
fell to the ground he would take it again, if it remained in the tree he would
follow the soldiers. The hoe stuck, and the peasant joined the army in the
humble position of follower to one of the soldiers. After four years of camp
life he returned to his native place, and there raised a number of men
like-minded with himself, with whom he joined the company of Alberigo da
Barbiano. In the lawless life of a camp he was the most lawless; and one day a
quarrel in which he was engaged about the division of plunder attracted the
attention of Alberigo, who interposed to settle the dispute. But the fiery
peasant did not lay aside his threatening attitude even at his captain’s
presence. “You look”, said Alberigo, “as if you would use violence (sforzare)
to me also. Have then the name of violent”. From this time the peasant was
known among his comrades as Sforza, a name which was to descend to a princely
house. He was a man rather above the ordinary height, with broad shoulders,
though his figure narrowed at the flanks. His swarthy face had a bluish hue,
which, with his deep-sunk restless eyes, gave him rather a sinister aspect.
For some time Sforza served under Alberigo da
Barbiano; then he led a band of his own, and fought for Florence in its war
against Pisa. John XXIII took him into his pay for the war against Naples, and
conferred on him in the lordship of his native town of Cotignola. But Sforza
quarreled with Paolo Orsini, who he saw was likely to get more from the Pope
than himself. He listened to the overtures of Ladislas, and when, in the
beginning of May, 1412, John summoned his generals to Rome, that he might
consult with them about future operations, Sforza abruptly retired from the
city, and took up a position at Colonna. The Pope in alarm sent a Cardinal with
36,000 ducats to urge him to return. Sforza enquired whether he was to look
upon this sum as arrears of old pay or earnest for new service. When the
Cardinal answered that it was prepayment for a fresh engagement, Sforza
replied, “Then I will not take it. I left Rome because I could not trust Paolo
Orsini”. On May 19 he quitted the Pope’s service, declared himself on the side
of Ladislas, and, after making a hostile demonstration against Ostia, rode off
to Naples. John took his revenge by hanging Sforza in effigy from all the
bridges and gates of the city; the figure was suspended by the right foot, and
in one hand held a hoe, in the other a paper, with the legend —
“I am Sforza, peasant of Cotignola, traitor,
Who twelve times have betrayed the Church against my
honor :
Promises, compacts, agreements have I broken”.
The Pope’s humor was coarse, but he knew the manners
of the camp, and could answer condottieri after their own fashion. He had his
own reasons for thinking that he might do so with safety, for already he had
advanced far in negotiations for peace with King Ladislas. Both had something
to gain, as Ladislas wished to be free from the claims of Louis, John from
those of Gregory XII. Ladislas had no object in maintaining Gregory any longer;
in fact his support of Gregory only gave his enemies a plausible handle against
him, and isolated him from the other European kingdoms. Moreover, the breach
between John XXIII and Louis, if once made, would be irreparable, while
Ladislas, who needed breathing-space, could prosecute his designs against the
States of the Church whenever occasion offered. John was at his wits’ end to
raise money; the Cardinals and the Senator alike were used to extort
benevolences from the wealthy; the imposts were so heavy that corn was sold in
the city at nine times its ordinary price; the coinage was debased, and there
was almost a famine, till John was driven to withdraw his most oppressive taxes
through fear of a rebellion. The Prefect of Vico attacked the city; John was
helpless, and peace was necessary at any price.
Already, on June 18, the news spread in Rome that the
Neapolitan Cardinal Brancacci had arranged a compact between John and Ladislas.
On June 30 its terms were known in Venice. They were, that John recognized
Ladislas as King, not only of Naples, but of Sicily, which was in the hands of
an Aragonese prince; that he appointed him gonfaloniere of the Church and
engaged to pay him 120,000 ducats within two years, giving him meanwhile
Ascoli, Viterbo, Perugia and Benevento to hold in pledge, and to remit all
arrears due from Naples to the Church. Ladislas on his part engaged to keep
1000 lances for the service of the Church, and undertook to treat with Gregory
XII that he should renounce the Papacy within three months on condition of
being appointed Legate of the March of Ancona, receiving 50,000 ducats, and
having three of his Cardinals confirmed in their office. If Gregory refused to
accept these terms, Ladislas has to send him prisoner to Provence. The position
of both parties in this compact was equally disgraceful: each of them gave up
an ally to whom he was bound by the most solemn engagements, and who had
endured much for his sake; each threw to the winds all considerations of honor.
Ladislas for his part tried to make his change of attitude towards Gregory as
little ignominious as might be; he called a synod of Bishops and theologians at
Naples, before whom he laid a statement of the doubts which beset him about the
validity of supporting Gregory when other princes had accepted John. The synod
of course declared its willingness to abandon Gregory, and on October 16
Ladislas wrote to John XXIII announcing that by the “grace of the Holy Spirit”
he recognized him a lawful pontiff. He sent a message to Gregory at Gaeta,
ordering him to leave his dominions in a few days. Gregory, whose suspicions
had been quieted by the express assurance of Ladislas that they were unfounded,
had taken no measures to provide himself with a refuge. The chance arrival of
two Venetian merchantmen on their homeward voyage gave him the means to flee.
The citizens, who loved the Pope, bought up the cargoes of the ships that they
might be at liberty to take him on board. He embarked on October 31, with the
three Cardinals who still clung to him, of whom One was his nephew Gabriele
Condulmiero, who afterwards became Pope Eugenius IV. In dread of enemies and
pirates he sailed round Italy and reached the Slavonian coast; thence five
small boats brought him and his attendants to Cesena, where he was met by Carlo
Malatesta and was conducted with all respect to Rimini. Carlo Malatesta was too
high-minded to follow the example of Ladislas and abandon an ally in
adversity. Though he knew that so long as Gregory was in his territory, he
would be exposed to the incessant hostility of John, he still did not hesitate
to declare himself the sole supporter of the helpless wanderer. Carlo Malatesta
is the only Italian who awakens our admiration by his honesty and integrity of
purpose in endeavoring to end the Schism of the Church.
Meanwhile John XXIII felt himself so far bound by the
promise of his predecessor to summon a Council for the purpose of carrying on
the work of reforming the Church begun at Pisa, that he issued a summons on
April 29, 1411, for a Council to be held at Rome on April 1 in the following
year. The summons, however, bore on the face of it marks that it was not meant
to be taken in earnest. The Pope narrated the necessity under which he was
placed of coming to Rome, abused Ladislas, praised the advantages of Rome as
the place for a Council, and excommunicated anyone who hindered prelates from
coming. With a view of strengthening his hands, John, in June, 1411, created fourteen
new Cardinals, who were wisely chosen from the most influential men in every
kingdom; amongst them were Peter d'Ailly, Bishop of Cambray, and two Englishmen
— Thomas Langley, Bishop of Durham, and Robert Hallam, Bishop of Salisbury. In
the hazardous position of affairs at the beginning of 1412 the Council was
deferred, and finally met on February 10, 1413. It was but scantily attended,
as was natural, for no one believed that anything would be done, and nothing
could be done in Rome at such a troubled time. It is said that the Pope used
his soldiers to prevent those whom he did not trust from coming to the Council
at all. The only thing which the Council did was to condemn the writings of
Wycliffe, which were solemnly burned on the top of the steps of S. Peter’s.
When some proposals were made to go further than this in the work of reforming
the Church, Cardinal Zabarella rose and talked the matter out. A ludicrous
incident is chronicled about this Council, and the fact that it is recorded
shows the horror with which the Pope’s character was regarded. One evening,
while the Pope was at vespers in his chapel, as the hymn “Veni Creator
Spiritus” was begun, came a screech-owl and settled on the Pope’s head. “A
strange shape for the Holy Ghost”, said a Cardinal, and tittered; but John was
dismayed. “It is an evil omen”, said he, and those present agreed with him. The
Council was soon dissolved on account of its numerical insignificance; but John
did not dare to let all mention of a Council drop. The University of Paris was
too strong to be offended, and it still clung to the hope of a genuine
reformation of the Church by means of a General Council. Moreover, Sigismund,
the King of the Romans, who had begun to take an interest in Italian affairs,
listened to the representations of Carlo Malatesta and urged on John the
summoning of a Council. Accordingly, in dismissing the few prelates who
ventured to come to Rome John issued a summons, on March 3, for a Council to be
held in December in some fitting and suitable place of which notice was to be
given in three months’ time. He little thought that events would force him to
keep his hypocritical promise.
Ladislas of Naples had only made peace with John to
gain a short breathing-time for himself and drive Ladislas out of Rome with
greater ease. In the beginning of May his preparations were made, and he found
adherents in plenty amongst the Romans themselves, who were groaning under
John’s exactions. The opportunity had come for wiping away the disgrace of the
defeat of Rocca Secca, and for advancing once more his pretensions over the
city of Rome. The scheme of forming an Italian kingdom floated before the eyes
of Ladislas, as it had done before so many other Italian princes; he, like the
rest, found the States of the Church thrust like a wedge between North and
South Italy. But the Papacy was less formidable than it had been in former
times; it no longer had its roots so deep in the politics of Europe as to be
able to raise armies for its defense. Ladislas might hope to succeed where
others had failed, and by repeated assaults on Rome, when occasion offered,
destroy the prestige of the Papal power, and habituate the citizens to the idea
of Neapolitan rule. When Rome had fallen, the only opposition which he need
dread was that of Florence. In May, Ladislas detached Sforza against Paolo
Orsini, who was in the March of Ancona. Sforza, eager to pursue his hated
rival, took Paolo Orsini by surprise and shut him up in Rocca Contratta. It was
believed that the Pope was dissatisfied with Orsini, and had secretly betrayed
him to Ladislas. If so, Ladislas caught the Pope in his own toils. He entered
the Roman territory with an army (May 3) on the ground that, as the Pope
proposed to leave the city for the purpose of holding a Council, it was
necessary that he should provide for its protection during his absence. John
was helpless; he could not trust his mercenaries; the people hated him on
account of his oppressive imposts; the very members of the Curia were so
suspicious of him that they were not sure whether the movements of Ladislas
were made in concert with the Pope or not. At every step in John’s career we
find the same impression of distrust produced even on those who saw him most.
As Ladislas drew nearer, John tried when it was too
late to win the Roman people to his side. On June 4, he abolished his detested
tax on wine: next day he tried to galvanize into life the old Roman Republic,
and solemnly restored to the citizens their old liberties and their old form of
government. A comedy of exalted patriotism was performed between the Pope
and the people. John pompously addressed them: “I place you once more upon your
feet, I entreat you to do what is for the good of the Church, and to be
faithful now if ever. Fear not King Ladislas, nor any man in the world, for I
am ready to die with you in defense of the Church and the Roman
people”. The citizens were not to be outdone in theatrical declamation: “Holy
Father”, they answered: “doubt not that the Roman people is prepared to die
with you in defense of the Church and your Holiness”. Next day (June
6) they held a council in the Capitol and unanimously resolved, “We Romans are
determined to feed on our own children rather than submit to the dragon of
Ladislas!”. A crowd of enthusiastic patriots announced this valiant resolution
to the delighted Pope. Next day John left the Vatican and rode with his
Cardinals to the palace of Count Orsini of Manupello on the other side of the
river; he wished to take up his abode in the city to declare his confidence in
the people. But on the night of June 8, the troops of Ladislas broke down part
of the wall of the Church of S. Croce in Gerusalemme, and, led by the
condottiere Tartaglia, entered the city. They did not venture to advance in the
night; and in the morning the citizens did not venture to attack them.
Patriotism and enthusiasm were too precious in word to be rudely expressed in
deed. The cry was raised, “King Ladislas and Peace!”. No opposition was made,
and Tartaglia was in possession of Rome.
John XXIII did not think it wise to expose his
patriotism to a ruder shock than did the Romans. As soon as the news of
Tartaglia’s entry reached him, he hastened to leave Rome with his Cardinals by
the gate of S. Angelo, and hurried towards Sutri. The horsemen of Ladislas
pursued the unhappy fugitives, whose age and luxurious habits made them unfit
for a hasty flight in the mid heat of summer. Many were plundered and
ill-treated; even the Pope’s mercenaries took part in plundering instead of
protecting them; many died on the way of thirst. Old men, who could rarely
endure to ride even for exercise before, were seen running on foot to save
their lives. Even in Sutri John did not think himself safe, but pressed on in
the night to Viterbo, and, after a rest of two days, to Montefiascone. It was
harvest time, and the peasants were fearful for their crops if Ladislas was to
march in pursuit of the Pope. John did not think it wise to trust to their
loyalty, but passed to Siena on June 17, and thence, on June 21, to Florence.
Even Florence was not prepared to quarrel with Ladislas without due
deliberation; the Pope was not admitted inside the city at first, but was
lodged in the monastery of S. Antonio outside the Porta San Gallo. There he
abode till the beginning of November, hearing the news of the entire
subjugation of Rome by Ladislas, whose triumphant army advanced northwards
through the States of the Church. In vain John wrote melancholy letters to the
princes of Christendom detailing the enormities of Ladislas, and imploring
their help. The only one who lent an ear to his complaints was Sigismund, King
of the Romans.
Sigismund had reached this dignity at the age of
forty-three, after an adventurous life, in which he had generally played an
ignominious part. He plunged while still a youth, into the troubles of Hungary,
of which he claimed the kingdom through his wife; to raise money for Hungarian
adventures he pledged Brandenburg to his cousin Jobst; he led a Hungarian army
in the ill-fated expedition against the Turks, which ended in the disastrous
defeat of Nicopolis; his Hungarian subjects rebelled against him and even made
him prisoner; his attitude towards his worthless elder brother Wenzel was one
of cautious self-seeking which had nothing heroic. The circumstances which
preceded his election as King of the Romans were not such as to redound to his
credit. He was a needy, shifty man, always busy, but whose schemes seemed to
lack the elements of greatness and decision which are necessary for success.
On his accession to the dignity of King of the Romans,
Sigismund recognized that an opportunity was offered of making a fresh start.
The teaching of experience had not been thrown away upon him. He had learned
that the cruelty by which he had alienated his Hungarian subjects was
unprofitable; he had learned to restrain his immoderate sensual appetites; he
had learned that a policy of peace was better than one of continual war. He set
himself to realize the duties of his new position, to vindicate the old glories
of the Imperial dignity, to seek the peace and well-being of Christendom, to
labor for the unity of the Church. With many failings, with a ludicrous
incongruity between his pretensions and his resources, Sigismund nevertheless
nourished a lofty ideal, which he perseveringly and conscientiously labored to
carry out. When he was elected King of the Romans, Sigismund was involved in a
dispute with Venice about the possession of Zara on the Dalmatian coast; the
republic had bought it from Ladislas, as King of Hungary, without enquiring
into his title to sell it to them. As King of the Romans, Sigismund complained
of the infringement of the Imperial rights by the Venetian conquests on the
mainland. If he were to go to Rome for coronation as Emperor, he must command an
entrance into Italy through Friuli, which Venice had seized. War against Venice
was undertaken in 1411. Sigismund’s forces were at first successful; but Carlo
Malatesta, fighting for the Venetians, checked their advance and the war
lingered on without any decisive results. John XXIII in vain attempted to
mediate. At last exhaustion caused both parties to wish for a truce, which
was concluded on April 17, 1413. Sigismund then proceeded into Lombardy, in
hopes of gaining back from Milan some of the lost possessions of the Empire.
But he came too late; Lombardy, after a disastrous period of disunion which
followed on the death of Gian Galeazzo Visconti in 1402, had again become
united in 1412, under Filippo Maria Visconti, after the violent death of his
two brothers. So strong was Filippo Maria’s position that Sigismund found it
impossible to gain enough allies to attack him. But if he was disappointed in
his hopes of winning glory by an attack on Milan, fortune threw in his way the
more lofty undertaking of directing the fortunes of the Church. The Empire,
which had fallen from its great pretensions and saw its old claims one by one
ignored, was yet to find itself in the hands of Sigismund hailed once more by
Christendom as the restorer of the Church and arbiter of the Papacy.
As Sigismund abode at Como, John XXIII, terrified by
the success of Ladislas, the coldness of Florence, and the sense of his own
helplessness, at last resolved to trust himself to the King of the Romans, and
submit to his condition of summoning a General Council. John saw the dangers of
such a course, but trusted to his own capacity to overcome them; it would be
easy for a quick-witted Italian to find some means of eluding a promise made to
a clumsy Teuton like Sigismund. His secretary, Leonardo Bruni, tells us how the
Pope talked the question over with him. “The whole point of the Council”, he
said, “lies in the place, and I will take care that it is not held where the
Emperor will be more powerful than myself. I will give my ambassadors the most
ample powers, which they may openly show for the sake of appearances, but
secretly I will restrict my commission to certain places”. Such was John’s
intention, and when the time came for the departure of his ambassadors, the
Cardinals Challant and Zabarella, the Pope took them apart and discoursed with
them long upon the momentous nature of their mission. He assured them how
entirely he trusted their wisdom and fidelity; he said that they knew better
than himself what ought to be done. Like many strong and eager natures, John’s
feelings were easily roused and he was easily carried away by them. Persuaded
by his own eloquence, he abandoned all precaution: “See”, he exclaimed, “I had
determined to name certain places to which you should be bound, but I have
changed my opinion and leave all to your prudence. Do you consider on my behalf
what would be safe and what dangerous”. So saying, he tore in pieces the secret
instructions which he had prepared, and dismissed his ambassadors to carry on
their negotiations unfettered. “This”, says Leonardo Bruni, “was the beginning
of the Pope’s ruin”.
When the Pope’s ambassadors, accompanied by the
learned Greek scholar, Emmanuel Chrysolaras, met Sigismund at Como, he at once
proposed to them Constance as the place for the meeting of the Council. In
spite of their endeavors to fix some place in Italy he stood firm. He urged
that Constance was admirably adapted for the purpose, being an imperial city,
where he could guarantee peace and order; in a central position for France,
Germany, and Italy; easy of access to the northern nations; in a healthy
situation on the shores of a lake; roomy and commodious for the accommodation
of crowds of visitors; situated in the midst of a fertile region whence
provisions could easily be obtained. These arguments admitted of no objection:
the ambassadors were unprepared to find Sigismund so decided. As he would not
give way, they hesitated to break off negotiations, considering the helpless
condition of the Pope and the hopes which he placed in Sigismund’s protection.
Perhaps they had also a lingering wish for a Council which should be a reality,
and were not sorry to find themselves in a position to commit the Pope to a
decided step. At all events, in the Pope’s name they accepted Constance as the
place of a Council to be held in a year’s time, on November 1, 1414.
Sigismund lost no time in making his triumph known.
Before the Pope could hear of the agreement that had been made, Sigismund, on
October 30, issued a letter announcing the time and place of the Council,
summoning to it all princes and prelates, and promising that he would be there
himself to provide for its full security and liberty.
John was thunderstruck when he heard what his legates
had done; he cursed his own folly for having trusted their discretion. He was
keenly alive to the danger of putting himself in Sigismund’s hands; but he had
been irrevocably committed, and his destitute condition gave him no hopes of
escape. He soon, however, recovered his courage and trusted to his own skill to
win over Sigismund and prevail upon him to change the place fixed for the
Council. For this purpose he sought a personal interview, and early in November
left Florence for Bologna, where he arrived on November 12. Bologna had soon
grown tired of its republican rule; the nobles had risen and put down the
popular party, and the city returned to its allegiance to the Pope in August,
1412. It was not, however, a safe place of refuge for him, as Carlo Malatesta,
acting again in conjunction with Ladislas, advanced into the Bolognese
territory and threatened the city. John left Bologna, on November 25, for Lodi.
Sigismund advanced to Piacenza to meet him, and they entered Lodi together,
where they were entertained in royal state. John, however, found that all his
artifices were of no avail to overcome Sigismund’s intention; he resisted all
proposals to change the seat of the Council from Constance to some Lombard
city. John was obliged to stand by the luckless undertaking of his legates, and
with a heavy heart issued from Lodi, on December 9, his summons to the Council
to be held at Constance in the next November. Sigismund sent also summonses to
Gregory XII, Benedict XIII, and the Kings of France and Aragon. Once more the
old Imperial pretensions were revived, and the rule of Christendom, by the
joint action of the temporal and spiritual power, was set forward.
At Lodi, John and Sigismund stayed for a month in
amicable relations, and celebrated with royal and Papal pomp the festival of
Christmas. From Lodi they passed together to Cremona, then under the lordship
of Gabrino Fondolo, a man characteristic of the political condition of Italy in
that age. He had won his way to the lordship of Cremona by the murder of his
masters, the brothers Cavalcabo, whom he had instigated previously to
assassinate their uncle, so as to accelerate their own accession to power. Now
that he had the Pope and King of the Romans in his city, his heart swelled with
pride and he wished to immortalize himself. The thought flashed through his
mind that he might do a deed which would make his name more renowned than that
of Empedocles: he had in his power the two heads of Christendom, and if he put
them to death the exploit would give his name an undying memory. One day, when
he had taken his distinguished guests to the top of the Torrazzo, the campanile
of the Duomo of Cremona, famous as being the loftiest tower in Italy of that
date, he felt a powerful temptation to hurl them down as they were
unsuspiciously feasting their eyes on the splendid panorama of the fruitful
plain of Lombardy watered by the Po and closed in by the mountain chains of the
Alps and Apennines. The news that the Venetian ambassador Tommaso Mocenigo, who
had come to Cremona to greet the Pope, had been elected Doge of Venice, put a
third noble victim in Fondolo’s hands. Though he resisted the temptation at the
time, so strongly had the idea impressed itself on his imagination that, eleven
years later, when his blood- stained career was cut short, and he was put to
death by the Duke of Milan, he looked back regretfully on the opportunity which
he had missed. When he reflected on the barren results of his adventurous life,
he confessed the project which he had once entertained of gaining immortality,
and grieved that he had not had the courage to carry it into execution.
So powerful a motive was the desire for fame, however
acquired, to the wild and soaring characters which the plastic nature and
adventurous politics of the Italian States had developed. Though neither John
nor Sigismund knew the extent of the danger which they had run, yet they did
not feel comfortable in the hands of Fondolo. John passed on to Mantua on
January 16, to see if any help could be gained from Giovanni Francesco Gonzaga.
There he stayed for a month, and went to Ferrara on February 16, where he won
over to his side the Marquis Niccolo d'Este, whom Ladislas had tried to bribe.
On February 26, he arrived in Bologna, where he intended to make his position
secure; he restored the castle of Porta Galliera, and raised round it an
earthwork surmounted by a palisade. There was need of John’s precautions, for
the implacable Ladislas was moved to anger at the news of John’s negotiations
with Sigismund. He declared in wrath that he would drive him out of Bologna as
he had driven him out of Rome. On March 14, Ladislas entered Rome with his
army, and showed his haughty contempt for all things human and divine by riding
into the Church of S. Giovanni in Laterano, where the priests brought forth
their holiest relics— the heads of S. Peter and S. Paul—and humbly displayed
them to the King, who remained seated on his war-horse. After a month’s stay in
Rome he moved northwards. Florence, terrified at this advance, negotiated for
peace, which was concluded at Perugia on June 22, on condition that Ladislas
proceeded no further. The interposition of Florence, which dreaded a
disturbance so near her own territory, saved John for the time.
Ladislas slowly retired towards Rome, smitten with a
mortal disease, the results of his own debauchery. He was borne in a litter to
S. Paolo outside the walls, and thence to the sea, where a galley carried him
to Naples. With him he took in chains Paolo Orsini, against whom he had
conceived some suspicion. He purposed to have him put to death at Naples, but
did not live long enough to carry his purpose into effect. His sister Giovanna,
who was his successor, judged it better to spare so useful a general, and
Ladislas was soothed in his last hours by the false belief that his sanguinary
commands had been executed. He died on August 6, and the body of this mighty
King was hurriedly buried by night, unhonored and ungraced, in the Church of S.
Giovanni Carbonara, which he had himself restored and enlarged. The monument of
Ladislas raised by his sister, Queen Giovanna II, is one of the grandest
monumental works of Italian sculpture, and gives a powerful impression of the
desire felt by Italian princes to commemorate their name and their
achievements. Striving after massive grandeur, the sculptors who worked in
Naples created no new form of monument, but magnified into a vast piece of
architecture the simple conception of the effigy of the dead reclining on a
slab, which for convenience was raised from the ground and received an
ornamental base. The whole east end of the Church behind the high altar is
filled with the tomb of Ladislas. Colossal figures of virtues support an
architrave which holds the inscription; above that are seated in a niche
figures of Ladislas and Giovanna II, with crown, scepter, and imperial eagle,
in royal state dispensing justice. Above that rises another tier holding the
sarcophagus of Ladislas, from before whose sculptured figure two angels, in the
Tuscan fashion, are softly drawing the curtains which shroud the dead. On the
top of the arch which closes the sarcophagus stands an equestrian statue of
Ladislas, drawn sword in hand, in such guise as often he led his men to battle.
The barbaric vastness and luxuriance of the tomb of
Ladislas, with its inscriptions, “Divus Ladislas”, “Libera sidereum mens alta
petivit Olympum”, is characteristic of the man and of the time. Ladislas had
the strong will and the strong arm of a born ruler. He reduced to order and
obedience the turbulent barons of Naples by playing off against one another the
rival factions of Anjou and Durazzo. His plan of secularizing the States of the
Church, as the first step towards forming a great Italian kingdom, was one
which long floated before the eyes of the more adventurous politicians of
Italy. He was an excellent general, a man of unfailing resolution and boundless
daring. But his character was barbarous and brutal; he was alike destitute of
religion and morality; neither in public nor private life was he guided by any
consideration of honor, and no means were too base or treacherous for him to
employ. So long as he lived, all Italy was in terror of his ambitious schemes;
when he died and his power passed into the hands of his foolish and profligate
sister Giovanna II, the Italian cities began to breathe again with a new sense
of freedom.
On the news of the death of Ladislas, Rome rose
against the Neapolitan senator and raised the old cry, “Viva Rome lo
popolo!” Sforza hastened to put down the rising; but the people raised
barricades in the streets and Sforza was compelled to retire. John XXIII’s
hopes had revived on the death of his dreaded foe, and he sent to Rome as his
legate Cardinal Isolani of Bologna. The old republican feeling of Rome had been
too far weakened to be sure of its own position; on the legate’s approach the
cry was raised, “Viva lo popolo e la Chiesa!” and, on October 19, Isolani
without a battle took possession of the city in the name of the Pope. Had this
success occurred a month sooner John would have returned to Rome instead of
going to Constance. As it was, it came too late; for his course had been
determined before he was sure of possessing Rome. For some time he hesitated to
begin his journey to Constance; but the Cardinals urged that his word was
pledged, the summons was issued, and it was too late to go back. He spoke of
sending representatives to the Council and going himself to Rome; the Cardinals
reminded him that a Pope should settle spiritual matters in person and temporal
matters by deputy. Meanness and fear of danger were not amongst John’s faults;
he still believed in his own power to cope successfully with difficulties, and
he was attracted by the prospect of presiding over a Council gathered from the
whole of Christendom. Before beginning his journey he obtained through
Sigismund an undertaking from the magistrates of Constance that he should be
received with honor and recognized as the one true Pope; that the Curia should
be respected and the Papal jurisdiction be freely exercised; that he should be
at liberty to remain in Constance, or withdraw at pleasure. His intention was
to preside a few months over the Council and then return to Rome.
On October 1, John set out for Constance, travelling
through Verona and Trent. There he met Frederick of Austria, lord of the Tyrol,
who was no friend of Sigismund, and saw many advantages to be gained by an
alliance with the Pope. John was eager to form a party of his own; and at
Meran, on October 15, appointed Frederick Captain-General of his forces, and
honorary chamberlain, with a yearly pension of 6600 ducats. Frederick was lord
of much of the territory that lay round Constance; and John had the caution to
assure himself of an ally who could afford him refuge or give him means of
escape if need should be. Moreover, Frederick was related by marriage to the
Duke of Burgundy, who had a strong motive for preventing the Council from
sitting long, as he knew that the Galilean party intended to press a question
which closely concerned his own honor. From Meran the journey was tedious and
perilous. On the Arlberg the Pope’s carriage broke down and he was tumbled in
the snow; when his attendants anxiously enquired if he was hurt he made the
unchristian answer, “Here I lie in the devil’s name”. When he reached the
summit of the pass and looked down upon the Lake of Constance girt in by
mountains and hills, he exclaimed with a shudder, “A trap for foxes!”. At last
the perils of the journey were over and its sweets begun; but, true to his
policy of making useful friends, John conferred on the Abbot of Kreuzlingen, a
monastery just outside the walls of Constance, the privilege of wearing a
mitre. On October 28, he made his entry into Constance attended by nine
Cardinals and followed by six hundred attendants; he was received by the city
magistrates with all due pomp and reverence.
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