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PIUS II
(AENEAS SILVIUS PICCOLOMINI)
THE HUMANIST POPE
BY
CECILIA M. ADY
TO MY MOTHER IN
MEMORY OF HAPPY DAYS IN ITALY
IN every period of
the world’s history it is the intellectual and spiritual ideals which give
character to the age. This is profoundly true of the Renaissance. The contrast
between the mediaeval and the modem world has often been too sharply drawn, but
nevertheless the fact remains that Italy in the fifteenth century was the
exponent of a new intellectual ideal. Humanism is the child of the Renaissance,
although the causes which brought it into being have their root far back in the
Middle Ages. Humanism, moreover, is the controlling force which lies behind
every aspect of Renaissance life. The highly civilised society, the political
aspirations, the artistic and literary development of that marvellous age alike
find their source in the humanist spirit. Many gloried in the name of
humanist—great educators such as Guarino and Vittorino da Feltre, scholars such
as Poggio and Aretino, Filelfo and Aurispa, to say nothing of the countless men
of action, princes, warriors, and statesmen who were at once the pupils and the
patrons of the men of letters. Yet among all that goodly company there is no
fuller manifestation of humanism than that presented by Aeneas Silvius
Piccolomini. There were greater scholars than he, and more brilliant statesmen; but he belonged both to the intellectuals and to the men of action. He was
the exponent of the good life, as conceived by the humanists, and he was also
able to realise it in his own career. For the ideal of these Renaissance
philosophers was no scholar’s Utopia. The chosen test of their system was its
value in practical life, and its object was the training of the statesman, the
perfect adaptation of the individual to the great society in which he must play
his part.
Thus the story of
Aeneas Silvius affords unique insight into the phase of thought which we call
humanism. It provides at once a clue to its meaning and an opportunity of
estimating its value in the history of civilisation. From the day when the
eager lad of eighteen left his home among the hills of Southern Tuscany to
become a student at the University of Siena the gleaming banner of humanism was
ever before his eyes. A ready pen and a persuasive tongue formed his chief
equipment for the battle of life, and his rise by these means to the Papal
throne is one of the most conspicuous triumphs of the new learning. The six
years of his pontificate give us a practical example of the application of
Renaissance ideals to politics. In Pius II’s wise government of the States of
the Church, and in his handling of the ecclesiastical problems of the day, we
see the strength of humanism. His death at Ancona, on the eve of his departure
for the East, and the shattering of his great crusading schemes show the
limitations of humanism, which could not rekindle the vanished enthusiasms of
Europe.
The chief authority
for the subject is throughout Aeneas Silvius himself. His letters, his
histories, his essays, and above all that fascinating autobiography of his
Papacy, the Commentaries, are one long process of self-revelation. From them we
learn much of contemporary persons and events, but still more of their author.
The view of life
The greater part of
Aeneas’s works are to be found in print, but they are scattered among various
unprepossessing and none too accessible volumes, dating from the fifteenth to
the eighteenth century. From these it has been my task to unearth them, and the
chief merit that I would claim for this biography is that it is based upon a
study of the hero’s own writings. Dr. Rudolf Wolkan, in Der Briefwechsel des
Eneas Silvius Piccolomini, which is still in process of publication, has done
vaulable service in collecting and editing the letters of Aeneas Silvius in an
authoritative form. He has ransacked the archives of Italy and Germany in
search of manuscripts, and the result of his labours has been the collection of
no less than 1263 letters belonging to the pre-Papal period, as against the 559
letters known to Voigt. For the history of Pius n’s pontificate, I, in common
with all students of Papal history, owe much to the valuable collection of
diplomatic documents contained in Dr. Pastor’s History of the Popes. Georg
Voigt’s Enea Silvio de Piccolomini als Papst Pius II und sein Zeitalter still
holds its own as the standard work of reference for the life and times of
Aeneas Silvius. It is a monument of learning, and an almost inexhaustible mine
of information, although the author, like the Germans of the fifteenth century,
is unable to judge fairly of a character that is essentially Latin. The
majority of other writers have flown to the opposite extreme, and have accepted
In conclusion, I
would thank all those who have helped me both with regard to the letterpress
and to the illustrations. The portrait of Pius n which forms the frontispiece
is from a contemporary bust in the Borgia Apartments of the Vatican. The name
of the sculptor is not known, but there is good reason for supposing it to be
the work of Paolo Romano, who was certainly employed by Pius II. It is
reproduced here for the first time, and my thanks are due to Signor Francesco
Cagiati for enabling me to obtain a photograph. The medals and coins reproduced
opposite page 180 are from casts taken in the British Museum through the
kindness of Mr. G. F. Hill. I should also like to express my thanks to Conte
Silvio and Contessa Piccolomini for their hospitality during a golden day at
Pienza; to Conte Francesco Bandini-Piccolomini for the assistance which he
rendered to me in Siena; and to Signor Attilio Boni for his information with
regard to the transference of the body of Pius n to its final resting-place in
the Church of S. Andrea della Valle.
CECILIA M. ADY
S. Hugh’s College,
Oxford September 1913
I. The University of Siena
II. Travels and Secretaryships
III. The Council of Basel
IV. The Imperial Chancery
V. The Coronation of Frederick
VI. The
Fall of Constantinople
VII. The
Papal Election
VIII. The
Congress of Mantua
IX. Pius
II and Italy
X. Pius II
and Europe
XI. The
Papal Court
XII.
PlENZA AND THE PlCCOLOMINI
XIII. The Man of Letters
XIV. Pius II and the Crusade
XV. The Last Journey
PIUS II
CHAPTER I
THE
UNIVERSITY OF SIENA
WHERE rises in the
Val d’Orcia a hill, crowned by a plateau about a mile long, and much less than
a mile wide. Here, on a spur which looks towards the rising sun in winter,
lies a town of small repute, yet possessed of salubrious air, and well
furnished with wine and provisions of every kind.” So wrote Pope
Pius II, the condottiere of letters who had won his way to greatness by means of
a persuasive tongue and a ready pen, of his native Corsignano, the town which
he was to adorn and ennoble, and to stamp with the undying impress of his
personality under the name of Pienza.
The description is
modest enough, yet apart from its illustrious son there is little or nothing
that is remarkable about Pienza. Some three miles to the west runs the Via
Francigena—the way of the Franks to Rome—and along that great high road the
countless stream of conquerors and pilgrims came and went, leaving the remote
Tuscan townlet unnoticed and unvisited. Today Pienza is still farther removed
from the highway of traffic. Its nearest link with the cosmopolitan world lies
fifteen miles to the east in the Chiana valley, where trains with their freight
of tourists halt at the wayside station of Montepulciano. Few of these modern
conquerors leave the beaten track to ascend even the steep hill-side, on the
summit of which towers the fortress-city of Montepulciano. Fewer still
penetrate across the bare tract of country which separates Montepulciano from
Pienza. Yet for a little company of adventurers the way is not too far, and the
motive of their perseverance has its source in an earlier pilgrimage. On a day
in February 1459, the Roman Pontiff, going with cardinals and princes in his
train to meet the rulers of the Christian world in conference at Mantua, turned
aside from the great highway to visit the home of his childhood. Only a few
months earlier, Aeneas Silvius Piccolomini had mounted the throne, of S. Peter
under the title of Pius II, and he determined that his native village should
share his new-found glory. In the course of a three days’ visit the scheme was
made which gave Pienza its title to fame. As the birthplace of Aeneas Silvius
the name of Corsignano might perhaps have survived in history. As the object of
his filial love Pienza remains a unique specimen of Renaissance architecture,
with its cathedral and episcopal palace, its Palazzo Pubblico and Palazzo
Piccolomini grouped round the tiny Piazza Pio Secondo, a single artistic whole.
The atmosphere of the country is, even today, that of the Middle Ages. It is a
land of ruined fortresses, bleak hills, and uncompromising ash-grey soil.Yet here amid mediaeval surroundings rises Pienza, a fair flower of the
Renaissance planted by one who was the living embodiment of the spirit of his
age.
The origin of
Pienza’s greatness dates from the opening of the fifteenth century, when it
formed the refuge of a decayed Sienese noble and his family, representatives of
the once illustrious house of Piccolomini. In the thirteenth century, that
hey-day of municipal prosperity, the Piccolomini ranked among the leading
families of Siena. Closely allied with the proud house of Tolomei, which
claimed descent from the Ptolemies of Egypt, they belonged to the class of
merchant nobles whose high birth formed no obstacle to their pursuit of
business. To men such as these Siena owed her most signal triumphs both in war
and commerce. As merchants, they enriched the city with the proceeds of their
traffic in the marts of Europe; as warriors, they upheld the honour of the
Republic in the unending struggle with its Florentine rival. So long as they
had their share in the responsibilities and glories of the city-State, both
Siena and these noble families prospered. When, however, towards the end of the
thirteenth century, the nobles were ousted from the government, not only did
the military efficiency of Siena suffer, but the nobles, deprived of their
occupation, spent themselves and their substance in private feuds. The
Piccolomini experienced to the full the evil days which had fallen upon the
nobility. In the course of some hundred years they had sunk to a condition
little short of destitution; their vast possessions round Siena were all lost,
and Silvius Posthumus, on succeeding to the family inheritance, found that it
was practically limited to Corsignano. Here, in the retirement of his own
estate, poverty seemed easier to face than in Siena. Having taken to himself a
wife—Vittoria Forteguerra—as aristocratic and as impecunious as himself, he
settled upon this barren property, and on S. Luke’s Day (18 Oct.) 1405 a son
was born to him who was to revive the ancient glories of his race.
The childhood of
Aeneas Silvius is not without its inevitable background of wonder. Platina, in
his life of Pius II, thus relates the dream which troubled Vittoria before the
birth of her son : “Now his Mother when she was big with Child dreamed that she
had brought forth a Boy with a Mitre on his head; at which she was afraid (as
people are apt to make the worst of things) that her dream betokened some
dishonour to their Child and Family; nor could she be eased of her fear till
she heard that her Son was made Bishop of Trieste. And upon that news she was
freed from all fear, and gave God thanks that
South of Pienza the
ground falls away abruptly into the valley, and on the extreme edge of the
plateau, overlooking the vines and olives which cover the slope, stood the old
house of the Piccolomini. From this spot the whole panorama of the Val d’Orcia
spreads itself before the eye. Below, over its chalky bed, winds the river from
which the valley takes its name—here slow and serpent-like, there with the
force and rapidity of a torrent. On the opposite bank tower the majestic
heights of Monte Amiata, the grandest of all the Tuscan hills, her slopes clad
with groves of oak and beech and chestnut, her summit veiled in a wreath of
cloud. Southward runs the road to Rome, bearing with it a thousand memories and
myriad dreams. To the north, countless gentle hills crowned with city or
fortress lose themselves in the blue distance, and among them that which boasts
the fairest crown of all—Siena, the City of the Virgin, poised as a bird ready for
flight. For eighteen years this threefold prospect in all its variety of light
and shade formed part of the daily life of the future Pope, moulding in a
hundred unsuspected ways his peculiarly impressionable and sensuous nature.
Surely it is no stretch of imagination to see in this view from his father’s
house the epitome of Aeneas Silvius’s career. Siena was the mother-city from
whence he sprang, the centre of his deep patriotic feeling, and at the same
time the unnatural parent who had thrust forth the Piccolomini from her gates.
The mingled sentiments of pride and bitterness with which the young Aeneas must
have gazed on her dim outline were produced in every phase of his subsequent
relations with the Republic. Rome, on the other hand, must needs be the
ultimate goal of one who united the ambitions of a humanist and an
ecclesiastic. Not until
The elder Piccolomini
had spent some years in Milan at the Court of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, and was
not without education or knowledge of the world. To him Aeneas owed his early
training, supplemented by the instruction of the village priest, who ministered
to his flock in the ancient Pieve of SS. Vito e Modesto. The little dark church
with its round tower is still standing in the fields outside the town, proud in
the possession of a font from which two Popes received baptism. From the first, Aeneas threw himself eagerly into his studies, devoting all his
spare moments to his books. “Yet what literary education could he obtain,”
asks Gregorio Lolli, “there, buried in the country, without books or teachers?”. Silvius and Vittoria realised that their son was worthy of a
better education than Corsignano could offer, and they
When Aeneas came to
Siena in 1423, the fair Tuscan city must have teemed with new and thrilling
experiences for the country-bred boy. Since the overthrow of foreign rule on
the death of Gian Galeazzo Visconti, Siena had gradually settled down to a
period of peace and revived prosperity in which the fury of party-strife was
abated. The nobility had been reduced to a state of impotence which disarmed
suspicion, with the result that some of the minor offices in the Republic were
thrown open to the Gentiluomini. Indeed, the new Government included four out
of the five Monti or factions, which had vied with each other for supreme power
in the State during the fourteenth century. Only the Dodicini were wholly
excluded, a faction composed of small tradesmen and notaries who have been described
as “the worst rulers that ever held sway over this ill-governed State.” They now reaped the reward of having helped to betray their city to Visconti,
and an annual festival was instituted to celebrate their overthrow. Owing to
this settlement, Siena had never seemed gayer, more splendid, or more
prosperous than when this young scion of the Piccolomini entered her gates. The
forces to which she owed her supremacy were not abated, while the spirit of the
early Renaissance had come to crown her with a new magnificence.
From the first
distant view of her forest of towers, “ten times more numerous than those of
S. Gemignano today”, there was everything in Siena’s outward
appearance to attract the eye and fire the patriotic pride of Aeneas Silvius.
Few cities in Europe at that time boasted more splendid buildings, few were
cleaner or better ordered, nowhere had the civic spirit fuller manifestation.
The
The University of
Siena, which Aeneas now entered as a student, boasted honourable and ancient
traditions. Since the year 1240 at any rate it had existed as a fully organised
University, and the Republic had been at pains to strengthen its teaching staff
by inviting professors from other Universities to occupy Chairs at Siena. Nevertheless, it stood at this moment somewhat outside the main current of
learning in Italy. When the spirit of humanism was alive and abroad, and men
turned to classical literature as to the very fountain of life, Siena still
clung to the traditions of the mediaeval curriculum. The Seven Liberal Arts
were regarded as the gateway to the three great Sciences—Law, Medicine, and
Theology,—and it was to the study of the first of these that the energies of
the University were chiefly directed. Classical teachers there were, of course.
Aeneas, we are told, learned grammar from Antonio da Arezzo, and rhetoric from
Mattia Lupi of S. Gemignano and Giovanni da Spoleto. Yet none of
these men were scholars of the first rank ; they were grammarians rather than
humanists in the scope and method of their teaching. The spirit of humanism
was, however, by no means absent from Siena. If the professed teachers of the
classics were dull to the new
The Professor of
Jurisprudence, with his versatile talents and his boundless enthusiasm, was
pre-eminently fitted to be an inspirer of youth. Eneas, on his side, ardent,
impressionable, unflagging in his energy, must have been an ideal pupil. He
succumbed completely to Sozzini’s spell, and has left a portrait of him in one
of his letters which proclaims in every line the influence which the elder man
exercised over the younger. “ Nature,” writes Eneas of Mariano Sozzini,
“ denied him nothing but stature. He is a little man and should belong to my
family, which has the surname of Piccolomini (parvorum hominum). He is a man of
eloquence and is versed in both Civil and Canon Law ; he has a knowledge of
universal history and is a skilful poet, composing songs in both Latin and
Tuscan. He is as learned in philosophy as Plato, and in geometry as Boetius,
while in arithmetic he may be compared with Macrobius. He is a stranger to no
musical instrument, and knows almost as much of agriculture as Vergil. While
the strength of youth remained in his limbs he was another Entellus; master in
the games, he could not be surpassed in running, jumping, or boxing. ... If the
gods had bequeathed to him stature and immortality he would himself have been a
god. Yet no mortal man is endowed with every gift, and I know no one who lacks
fewer than he.” To these manifold talents were added “ the moral qualities
which rule and
Humanism is an
intangible expression, chiefly because its essence lies less in any new system
of learning than in a new way of regarding life. The humanist aimed above all
things at producing a fresh type of individual, and thus a description of
character such as ZEneas gives of his Univerversity professor affords perhaps
the best clue to the meaning of humanism as a whole. The ideal of every true
humanist was the complete citizen, an individual equipped in the fullest
possible way to play his part in the world. Sozzini with his social gifts and
his interest in public affairs stands in marked contrast to the unpractical bookworm,
ignorant of the simplest matters of everyday life and " incapable of
ruling either the commonwealth or the household.” Learning, to the
humanist, is not an end in itself, it is a means of acquiring wisdom and
judgment, and it must be viewed always in the light of its value in the world
of action. Or, as ZEneas himself expressed it in later years, “ The model of
all good living is to be found in the study of Letters.” The
practical aims of humanism naturally made expression a matter of first importance.
Eloquentia, taken in its widest sense to include style, oratory, and every form
of literary expression, must be cultivated at all costs, because without it
learning is but a dead thing, incommunicable and ineffective. This attention to
expression descends even to such minute details gs the question of
handwriting. “ It is no credit to the great Alfonso,” wrote ZEneas of the ruler
of Naples, “that his signature was most like the traces of a worm crawling
over the
If humanism was
primarily a new point of view, there was nothing intangible or uncertain about
the means of attaining it. The humanists were confident that their ideal had
once been realised in the ancient world, and that the entrance into their
heritage lay through the gateway of classical literature. In ^Eneas’s case
there was no intelligent classical tutor to guide his reading, yet Sozzini had
supplied the inspiration which set his feet in the right direction, and for the
rest “ he studied more under dead teachers than under living.” Cicero, Vergil,
Livy, “and other princes of the Latin tongue,” themselves became his teachers.
With a passion strong enough to overcome all obstacles, he set himself to
acquire the distinguished education which would admit him into the great
freemasonry of learning. Niccolo and Bartolomea
Lolli had a son Gregorio
The University
experiences of Aeneas Silvius were by no means confined to the sphere of learning.
Siena, according to her chronicler Sigismondo Tizio, was famed for “ the
affability and hospitality of her inhabitants, the beauty and allurement of her
women, and the Jpve which her populace hath ever borne for festivals and
games.” During eight years of vivid life /Eneas drank deep of the
cup of pleasure. He shared in the wild games of Pugna and Pallone which were
played on the Piazza del Campo. He joined with patriotic ardour in the great
public festivals. Above all, he knew what it was to lie by the fountains on hot
June evenings, and to bask in the smiles of the “ pleasant ladies ” who
beguiled the hearts of the University students. Perhaps the most famous of
Aeneas’s writings is his novel Eurialus et Lucretia, which tells of a love
intrigue between a German knight and a Sienese lady at the time of the Emperor
Sigismund’s sojourn in the city. The events which formed the basis of his plot
took place in 1432, more than a year after /Eneas had left Siena. Yet the
background of the romance is life in Siena as Aeneas himself knew it. From it
we catch glimpses of that strange medley of gaiety and folly, innocent enjoyment
and unrestrained vice, high civilisation and primitive passion which was at
once the fascination and the bane of Sienese society. The novel was written at
the request of Mariano Sozzini, who, to judge from Aeneas’s dedicatory
The story itself is
neither more original nor less indelicate than others of its kind. It tells of
violent love, of secret notes, and of stolen interviews snatched under the very
nose of the jealous husband. It ends in a tragic parting on the return of the
Imperial Court to Germany. Lucretia is left to die of a broken heart, while
Eurialus mourns her loss until he finds consolation in a marriage arranged for
him by the Emperor. /Eneas was only too familiar with the details of such
intrigues. “ What man of thirty,” he asks, " has not ventured something in
the cause of love? I ground this conjecture upon myself, whom love has exposed
to a thousand dangers ; but I thank the gods that I have escaped a thousand
times from
Early in August each
year the streets of Siena began to throng with strangers who had come to take
part in the approaching fair. On the morning of the 14th the ceremonies opened
with a solemn procession of the chief magistrates to the Duomo, where each in
turn made an offering of a wax candle for the benefit of the Cathedral Works.
This was an obligation incumbent on every citizen of Siena on the Vigil of the
Assumption, the weight of each man’s candle being apportioned according to the
amount of his taxable property. Thus processions of citizens from the various
parishes continued throughout the day, and on the morrow came representatives
of the subject towns and other feudatories bringing such offerings of candles
and money as were required of them by the terms of their submission to the
Republic. It was a proud day for any citizen
Suddenly, amidst this
gay, careless life, a stern voice sounded. The City of the Virgin seemed to
have become something more nearly resembling the City of Venus, when she was
recalled to her better self by the preaching of S. Bernardino. It was in May
1425 that S. Bernardino first preached in Siena. An altar and pulpit were
erected on the Piazza del Campo, and among the crowds of men and women of every
rank who flocked thither to hear him was the young student, /Eneas Silvius. The
saint, like Aeneas himself, came of a noble Sienese family. He too had been a
student of the University, and had received his friar’s habit in the Church of
S. Francesco at Siena. Thus his antecedents alone were sufficient to attract
/Eneas towards S. Bernardino, and once having been drawn to him he fell
completely beneath his spell. “ He was most eloquent in speech,” writes Aeneas
of the great revivalist preacher, “ and could move men to tears in a wonderful
way ; he so denounced vices that he made every one feel a horror of them, and
he so praised virtues that he made all love them. . . . And because his life
was holy and without blemish, because he lived in poverty, going about with
bare feet, clad only in his woollen tunic ; and because he
All Siena responded
to S. Bernardino’s appeal. The women brought their ornaments and cosmetics,
their false hair and fine clothes to swell the pyres of vanities which
were kindled on the Piazza. Party symbols and badges were torn down, and in
their place appeared “ the Holy Name of Jesus painted on a picture,” surrounded by the sun’s golden rays. Aeneas himself was so much moved by the
saint’s words that he seriously contemplated entering the Franciscan Order, and
was only turned from his purpose by the entreaties of his friends. A few years
later, when S. Bernardino had left Siena for Rome, Aeneas was troubled by a
saying of one of his disciples, to the effect that a man was bound to
accomplish any good deed that he had once willed to do. In his distress of mind
Aeneas trudged all the way to Rome to consult S. Bernardino, who with
characteristic good sense told him that his scruples were groundless, and that
his transient aspiration placed him under no necessity of becoming a friar
against his better judgment.
Aeneas was entirely
unsuited for the religious life, yet he had much real religious feeling. He was
also quick to recognise genuine goodness, and S. Bernardino’s life of
self-sacrifice appealed at once to all that was noblest in his nature. Perhaps
the three men for whom he showed the most abiding admiration were S.
Bernardino, the prophet of his student-days; Cesarini, the hero of the Council
of Basel, who died a martyr’s death on the battlefield of Varna; and the austere
and saintly Cardinal Carvajal, who spent his life in the championship of the
cause of Christendom against the Turk. If any one characteristic distinguished
all three men alike, it was their singleness of purpose—a virtue which Aeneas,
whose sincerity has been
Did Aeneas owe any
part of his education to the greatest scholar of his day, Francesco Filelfo ?
The question is wrapped in obscurity, and the entire disregard for truth which
distinguishes humanist controversy makes the problem peculiarly hard to solve.
On the one hand Filelfo, writing a year after Pius II’s death, tries
to give the impression that the deceased Pope owed everything to him, and that
he had been guilty of the basest ingratitude towards his old master. He
describes Aeneas coming to Florence as a poor scholar, and says that he was so
greatly impressed by the young man’s ability and charm that he received him
into his own house. He subsequently found him a post with a rich Sicilian
noble, in whose service Aeneas received 40 ducats a year, and was thus able to
attend Filelfo’s private classes as well as his public lectures. Finally,
Filelfo asserts, Aeneas went to Milan with introductions from him, entered the
service of the Bishop of Novara, and so passed in the Bishop’s train to his
future career at the Council of Basel. Goro Lolli, on the other hand, meets
Filelfo’s whole story with a blank denial. Aeneas never was
Filelfo’s pupil, and he did not even visit Florence until his student-days were
over. Thus it was useless to talk of ingratitude, and, for his part, he maintained
that death was Pius n’s sole crime from Filelfo’s point of view. He had sung
the Pope’s praises so long as
At this period Aeneas
was engaged nominally in legal studies. A fellow-student, one Aliotti, gives
his recollections of him at Siena between 1425 and 1430, when Aeneas was
reputed the ablest of the students in Civil Law, and had already begun to
lecture on the subject. Yet the more he came in contact with them,
the greater was his antipathy both for law and lawyers. All time seemed wasted
that was spent apart from his beloved “poets and orators.” His period of
wandering, with the glimpse that it afforded him of the great world of letters,
only increased his restlessness. The spirit of the Renaissance was hot within
his veins, and the prospect of spending the remainder of his existence as a
petty notary, or at best as a lecturer on Jurisprudence, at Siena, grew
well-nigh intolerable. Nevertheless, the time had come when he must settle down
to a professional career. His relations were already impatient at the delay,
and no way of escape seemed open to him. At this critical moment there passed
through Siena, Cardinal Domenico Capranica, Bishop of Fermo, on his way to the
Council of Basel. He was in need of a secretary, and offered to take the
brilliant young scholar into his service. To Aeneas the opportunity seemed
heaven-sent. Instead of work which he hated, here was work that gave scope for
the exercise of those gifts of style and oratory which he had already proved
himself to possess. New surroundings and
CHAPTER II
TRAVELS AND
SECRETARYSHIPS
THE departure of
Eneas Silvius for the Council of Basel has been immortalised in one of Pinto-
ricchio’s most charming frescoes in the Piccolomini Library at Siena. Amid a
gay and richly apparelled company he rides towards the seashore. The Cardinal’s
red robes and the bright trappings of the horses glow in the sunlight. The way
is strewn with a veritable carpet of spring flowers. Eneas himself is mounted
on a prancing white charger, and he turns with light-hearted unconcern to cast
a farewell glance over his native land. Behind him, however, the sea is
troubled, and a black storm darkens the horizon, warning the travellers who are
about to embark upon the waiting vessels that there is rough weather in store
for them. The symbolism of the fresco leaves little to be desired. In the
springtime of life, full of hope and enthusiasm, Eneas set out upon his career.
Fortune had provided him with an opportunity, and in his joy at this sign of
her favour, he was blind to the dangers and difficulties which would inevitably
beset his path. “ A wise God conceals the future in dark night,” he wrote on a later occasion. If he had realised the endless vicissitudes
through which he must pass before he could achieve, not greatness, but the
merest security, perhaps even his adventurous spirit would have faltered.
The actual
circumstances of Eneas’s departure were doubtless less picturesque, yet the
tempest of Pintoricchio’s
AENEAS SILVIUS SETS
OUT FOR THE COUNCIL OF BASEL
FRESCO BY
PINTORICCHIO
fresco is a truthful
representation of the storms, both physical and political, to which he was
exposed at the very outset of his career. Two main facts coloured his introduction
to the world of politics. In the first place, his new master, Cardinal
Capranica, had been involved in the recent rising of the Colonna against
Eugenius iv, and his departure from Italy was practically a flight before the
Pope’s vengeance. Secondly, the Council of Basel, whither he was proceeding,
was sitting in defiance of Papal authority, having been dissolved by Eugenius
in the autumn of 1431, just four months after its formal opening. Under these
circumstances Capranica’s chief object was to get out of the country as quickly
and as inconspicuously as possible. He resolved to proceed straight to the
coast at Piombino, and from thence to take ship to Genoa. By so doing he would
avoid passing through Florentine territory at a time when a war between
Florence and Siena rendered travelling difficult ; and, once in Genoa, he
could rely upon the protection of her overlord, Filippo Maria Visconti, Duke of
Milan, a friend to all enemies of the Pope. When the party reached the coast
they found an obstacle in their path in the shape of Jacopo Appiano, Lord of
Piombino, who thought it politic to prevent Capranica’s departure. “Although
he feigned friendship”, writes Aeneas, “he forbade Domenico to take ship.”
Yet with the vessel which was to carry him to Genoa waiting out at sea before
his eyes, Capranica determined to persevere. Making his way secretly down to
the shore, he embarked in a small boat with a single companion and was
conveyed to his own ship in safety. “ Once this was known, the rest of
Domenico’s suite was allowed to depart, the lord of the town thinking it useless
to pursue the feathers when the body of his prey had escaped him.’’Aeneas and his companions, however, spent a night out of doors on the island of
Elba, in bitter cold, before they were able to rejoin Capranica. The next day
the reunited household set sail for Genoa.
Even then the
adventures of the journey were not over. A severe storm arose which drove the
vessel far out of its course, “round Corsica and a part of Sardinia, and after a night of tossing on the high seas the captain made his way back
through the Straits of Bonifacio to seek shelter in the harbour of Porto
Venere. This unpleasant experience gave /Eneas a distaste for the sea which
never left him. It also found him a lifelong friend in the person of one of his
fellow-secretaries, Piero da Noceto, who shared the perils of the voyage, and
became henceforth his closest companion. The episode appears to have made a
deep impression on Aeneas, and time helped to magnify its importance. In the
Commentaries we read that the travellers “ were driven by furious storms in
sight of the Lybian coast, the sailors fearing greatly lest they should land at
some barbarian port ; although it is marvellous to relate and almost incredible
to hear that a voyage of a day and a night from Italy . . . should have taken
them to Africa, it is nevertheless true.” The Commentaries were
written some thirty years after the events here described, and a comparison
between them and the account of his journey which Aeneas wrote to the Podesta
of Piombino directly he reached Genoa shows that the story grew with the
telling. This letter contains no mention of Africa, and the perils
of the voyage sink into insignificance beside the splendours of the reception
which awaited the travellers.
At Porto Venere they
found an armed galley sent by the Duke of Milan to escort Capranica to Genoa.
The ducal Commissary and a goodly company of citizens were on board, and on the
Cardinal’s approach there was a great sounding of trumpets and other musical
instruments to do him honour. “ The shouts of the sailors
Naturally, .Eneas’s
attention is first arrested by Genoa as a great mercantile port. He dwells in
amazement on the splendid harbour, crowded with ships, and on the constant
coming and going of trading craft. “ Every day you may see different races of
men, with strange and uncivilised manners, and merchants arriving with every
kind of wares.”4 The Genoese are a seafaring race, and there is no
hardship or peril that they will not endure in pursuit of their calling. Yet
they are too much occupied with buying and selling to care greatly for
learning. For the rest, they are “ honest people, with long bodies, and grave
demeanour, who both seem and are proud.” 6 The private life of the
citizens, in contrast to their arduous profession, is luxurious and even
voluptuous. “ They fall into no error
/Eneas was obviously
enjoying his first taste of the great world, and he dwelt joyfully on the
thought that a still more magnificent reception was being prepared for his
master in Milan. Yet other letters show that pleasure was mingled with a good
deal of home-sickness. “ When we were together,” he wrote to a University
friend, “ no day was allowed to pass without intercourse between us ; either I
sought you out or you came to find me, so that I seemed to be living with you
more than with all the others. Now your letters perform the function that was
once yours, . . . from them I derive such consolation as falls to my lot.
The gods are my
witness that when I read them I cannot restrain my tears. I weep and weep
again. ‘ Where,’ I cry, ‘ is my sweetest friend ? ’ I know too well that I am
parted from him, I know not when I shall see him again.” Most especially is he
grieved to hear how much his father misses him. Giorgio must regard himself as
Silvio’s adopted son, so that the old man may gain a comforter, and Eneas a
brother. “ Farewell,” he concludes, " and again farewell. Greet, I pray
you, all our mutual friends, and when you meet my father console him as much as
you can.”1 This letter formed Eneas’s farewell to Italy, being
written in Milan on the eve of his departure. A few days later the Cardinal and
his household set out over “ the Alps that are called S. Gothard, fast bound in
ice and snow,” 2 and after traversing “ steep mountains reaching
almost to heaven,” they came at last to Basel.
Eneas entered Basel
in the spring of 1432, but it was not until four years later that he began to
take active part in the proceedings of the Council. During the period that
intervened he was engaged in seeing life, under diverse aspects and amid
varying scenes. He served at least four different masters, and thus gained
considerable experience of a secretary’s post in the household of a great
ecclesiastic. In this capacity, moreover, he travelled over the greater part of
Europe, crossing the Alps in his journeys to and from Italy by the S. Gothard,
the S. Bernard, and the Simplon passes, going from Basel to Cologne by way of the
Rhine, visiting the rich trading cities of the Low Countries, and penetrating
even to the British Isles. Wherever he went eyes and ears were on the alert,
and these early impressions did much to furnish material for the great
historical and geographical works which are among his chief titles to fame.
More than this, the four years of wandering gave Eneas just that varied
knowledge of men
and things which he
needed in order to give expression to his natural gifts. As an Italian, he
belonged to the nation of explorers, to those early seekers after knowledge who
prepared the way for the great discoveries of a later generation. As a
humanist, the history and manners of the European nations were interesting to
him in a way that they had never been to the medievalist. Above all, a keen
sense of beauty, exceptional powers of observation, and an instinct for
self-expression which impelled him to commit his ideas to writing, enabled him
to turn all that he saw and heard to the very best advantage. “ Thousands,” it
has been said, " saw what he did, but they felt no impulse to make a
picture of it, and were unconscious that the world desired such pictures.” 1
Those who are anxious for a personally conducted tour round Europe in the early
fifteenth century cannot do better than to take him as their guide, and to
follow him as he passes from city to city, full of interest, full of
appreciation, bringing his quick sympathy and vivid imagination to bear upon
everything that crosses his path.
Capranica received a
warm welcome from the Fathers at Basel, and his claim to rank as a Cardinal,
which the Pope had refused to acknowledge, was at once recognised by the
Council. Eugenius iv, meanwhile, retained possession of Capranica’s benefices
and also of his private inheritance, and the Council which had so gladly
reinstated him in his position could do nothing to help him recover his
property. Thus the unfortunate Cardinal found himself in great pecuniary
straits. “ The needy Domenico was not able to support the needy iEneas,” 2
and our hero had perforce to seek a new master. Not long after, Capranica left
Basel and made his peace with Eugenius iv. He had done his part by ifineas in
launching him upon the world, and, in his lifetime, he hardly crossed his path
again. In 1458, however, popular opinion regarded him as the
future Pope, and his
death on 14 August removed the most formidable obstacle to Pius ii’s election.
/Eneas next took
service under Nicodemo della Scala, Bishop of Freisingen, who gave him his
first glimpse of German politics by taking him to the Diet of Frankfort. In
later years he must have said to himself that this preliminary experience had
been eminently characteristic, for the proceedings of the Diet were rendered
abortive by the absence of the Emperor. Shortly after their return to Basel,
Nicodemo withdrew from the Council, and /Eneas was left without employment. It
was probably at this time that he conceived the idea of writing a History of
the Council, being led to his decision by the reasons so naively expressed in
his letter to Cardinal Giuliano Cesarini. " Nothing,” he considered, “
could be worse for a man than to lead a life of ease and idleness,” 1
and nothing could be more foreign to his own habit, as he had always been accustomed
to spend his time in reading and writing. Thus it was a weariness to him to
spend the long days at Basel in idleness, and he did not care to gossip about
the doings of the Council with people who took no real interest in ecclesiastical
affairs. He resolved, therefore, to set to work upon a History, lest he should
become “ like the beasts, given over to food and sleep.” “ I confess,” he
writes, “ that it would be better and more becoming in me to turn over and
study the volumes of those who wrote in past ages than to attempt original
work. Yet I have sufficient excuse in that I possess no books.” In recording
the deeds of the Council as they come to his knowledge he will be exercising
such little talent as he possesses, so that when the time comes for him to
write something more important, wisdom and facility of expression will be his.
" Both these things,” he observes, “ are acquired by practice, although it
is true that wisdom is given to many by nature.” There follows a
graphic description
of Basel and its inhabitants, which was intended to serve as an introduction to
his History, so that all might know “ in what place and among what people those
things were done that I propose to record.”
The situation of
Basel made it peculiarly suitable in our hero’s eyes for the seat of a General
Council. Almost equidistant from Spain and Hungary, from Denmark and Sicily, it
might be considered the centre of Christendom.1 It lay, moreover, on
that great highway of Europe, the Rhine, which divided the city into two parts.
A fine wooden bridge gave access from one part to the other, but in spring,
when the stream was swollen by the melting snows of the Alps, the bridge was
often destroyed, and Basel became two separate cities. To Tuscan-bred /Eneas,
the three most noticeable features of Basel were the extreme cold, the comfort
and prosperity which reigned everywhere, and the excellence of the municipal
government. In winter, when snow lay thick on the ground, the blast of the
north wind seemed freezing, but within doors all was warmth and comfort. The
principal houses had fine halls resembling Roman baths, where the citizens
entertained one another at dinner, and where caged singing-birds and sparkling
fountains charmed the senses. The tables were laden with silver ; the furniture
was of the richest. In short, although built for convenience rather than for
outward show, the houses of Basel could vie with the best in Florence as
regards interior equipment. The fortifications of the city seemed to /Eneas
inadequate, and altogether unfitted to withstand the sieges and street-fights
of Italy. Yet in this more fortunate country “ the strength of the city lay in
concord of souls.” 2 In Basel there was no struggle between nobles
and people ; no voice was raised against the government; no factions divided
the ruling class ; all were prepared to defend their liberties, if
need be, with their
lives. So strong and sure was justice that “ those exiled from the city in perpetuity
had no hope of return,” and if anyone deserved punishment, “ neither money nor
prayers would avail him, nor even a multitude of friends and relations, nor
high position in the city.” Although reluctant to lay bare the weaknesses of
his own country, /Eneas could not refrain from drawing the all too obvious
contrast. “ There the few seek to rule, and all are forced to obey ; those who
spurn the authority of King or Emperor are subject to the lowest of the people.
There no dominion is lasting, and nowhere does fortune jest as in Italy.” 1
With regard to the inhabitants of Basel, they preferred for the most part “ to
be men of substance rather than to seem so.” 2 They dressed
soberly, were contented with their lot, and kept their promises. Their standard
of culture was low. Grammar artd dialectic were studied, but poetry was
despised, and the name of Cicero was not so much as heard. Religion was held in
high honour, the churches being frequented daily, and not only on festivals.
/Eneas’s quick eye at once noticed the high wooden pews which filled the
churches, each matron shutting herself in her own pew with her maid-servants
“like bees in a hive.” This peculiar custom he attributed rather to “ the
rigour of winter ” than to reasons of prudery. His interest was also awakened
by the annual tax due from every family to the Bishop, a relic, he considered,
of the day when Basel was subject to episcopal government.
Before /Eneas had
time to write much of his History he found employment once more, as secretary
to Bartolomeo Visconti, Bishop of Novara. The Bishop had come to Basel as the
confidential agent of the Duke of Milan, his chief task being to stir up
trouble for Eugenius iv at the Council, while Filippo Maria himself waged war
upon the Pope in Italy. The successful negotiation of this joint
campaign needed
frequent intercourse between its directors, and thus it came about that the
close of the year 1433 saw /Eneas back in Italy.1 He spent some time
at the Court of Milan, and gained an insight into the character of " that
great and famous Duke, Filippo Maria.” " Filippo was full of suspicion,”
wrote /Eneas, “ and hardly trusted even himself. He would often search the hangings
of his palace walls, thinking that assassins were hidden there, and at times he
was terrified by his own shadow. He fled the sight of man, but was nevertheless
great, and renowned for his liberality and magnificence.” 2 To our
hero this visit was chiefly remarkable for the part which he played in the
appointment of the Rector of the University of Pavia. Of the two rival
candidates, one was a certain Luigi Crotti, a Milanese of high birth and
powerful connections, the other was an obscure citizen of Novara. /Eneas
espoused the cause of the latter, and spoke with so much eloquence that he
snatched the prize from Crotti’s grasp, and saw his candidate installed as
Rector.3
Meanwhile, Filippo
Maria’s captains besieged Rome, calling themselves " Generals of the Holy
Council.” In 1434 they contrived to stir up rebellion within the city, and
Eugenius was forced to fly to Florence. Not content with having humbled his
enemy thus far, the Duke of Milan now designed to obtain possession of the
Pope’s person. The Bishop of Novara was sent to Florence to arrange the details
of the conspiracy, and all was in order when the plot was discovered. It seemed
likely that the Bishop’s life would be forfeit, “ and the shepherd being
smitten, the sheep were scattered.” 4 /Eneas and his terrified
companions fled for protection to the nearest church,
fearing every moment
that they might be dragged away to prison and torture. Our hero is careful to
mention that his master had kept him in ignorance of the whole matter, “ not
wishing to consult a Tuscan about a Tuscan affair.” 1 Yet, in
another place,2 he tells us that he was able to visit his relations
at this time, through being sent on a mission to Niccolo Piccinino, who was
taking baths at Siena. It is difficult to believe that his business with the
principal soldier in the employ of Milan had not some connection with the Florentine
conspiracy. Whatever was the extent of his complicity, Eneas was placed in a
most unenviable predicament. Fortunately for his future career, a helping hand
was stretched out to him by his friend Piero da Noceto. After the break-up of
Capranica’s household, Piero had taken service with Cardinal Albergata, a
Carthusian who combined monkish piety with enthusiasm for the new learning.
Albergata was generous in his patronage of struggling scholars, and on Piero’s
recommendation he offered Eneas a post as secretary. Thus the taint of recent
associations was at once obliterated, and Eneas left Florence, no longer in the
service of Eugenius iv’s enemies, but safe under the protection of a champion
of orthodoxy, and the Pope’s most loyal servant. Soon after, the Bishop of
Novara was set at liberty, but Eneas preferred the superior attractions of a
Cardinal’s household, and did not return to his service. Yet he bore his former
master no grudge. He writes of him with respect and affection, and has a place
for him in his collection of biographical sketches of the illustrious men of
the age.
Cardinal Albergata,
meanwhile, was bound for the Congress of Arras, which had been summoned in the
hope of ending the Hundred Years War and of giving peace to the distracted land
of France. He crossed the Alps by the S. Bernard Pass, and descended upon the
Lake of Geneva,
where he turned aside
in order to visit Duke Amadeus vm of Savoy in his retreat at Ripaille. In 1431,
after a reign of forty years, Duke Amadeus had startled Europe by retiring from
the world. With six chosen companions, all of noble birth and widowers like
himself, he had withdrawn to an estate upon the shores of the Lake of Geneva,
in order to lead a hermit’s life amid beautiful and peaceful surroundings.
Thus the royal hermit of Ripaille was a subject of popular interest at the
moment, and /Eneas, with the instincts of a true journalist, was at pains to
describe all that he saw in the course of his visit. Albergata was met at the
landing-stage by Amadeus and his companions, clad in long grey cloaks, with
gold crosses upon their breasts and staffs in their hands. Hard by stood the
church which Amadeus had built, with suitable dwellings for the priests who
served it. Behind stretched a magnificently wooded park, the home of deer and
other wild creatures, screened from the outside world by a high wall. In this
romantic setting hermit and Cardinal met and embraced, “ kissing each other
with much affection.” To iEneas it seemed “ a worthy spectacle, which posterity
will hardly believe.” Only lately Amadeus had been “ a most powerful Prince,
feared by both French and Italians. He had been clad in cloth of gold, and
surrounded by purple-robed courtiers ; ensigns of royalty were carried before
him, armed cohorts and a crowd of great ones followed him. Now he received the
Apostolic Legate in humble and poor array, preceded by six hermits, and
followed by a few priests.” 1 Albergata could not say enough in
praise of Amadeus’s renunciation, but when the party passed through the
pleasant glades to the castle where these “ Knights of S. Maurice ” had made
their home, iEneas began to suspect the sincerity of their motives. Each of the
six companions had his separate suite of rooms, fitted up with the greatest
luxury. As to the apartments of Amadeus, they were worthy of the Pope himself,
and the whole Order
seemed to live “ a life of pleasure rather than of penance. ” 1 In
the course of the visit .Eneas noticed his friend Piero writing in charcoal
upon a wall of the castle. The words which he wrote were those of Cicero : “
Totius autem injustitiae, nulla capitalior est quam eorum qui cum maxime
fallunt, id agunt, ut viri boni esse videantur.”2 Piero’s judgment
was perhaps unnecessarily severe, yet the Duke’s renunciation of the world did
not by any means involve a surrender of worldly comfort. His piety, moreover,
did not stand in the way of cautious concern for his own interests, as .Eneas
was to learn by experience a few years later, when Amadeus left his hermitage,
at the request of the Council of Basel, to embark upon the final phase of his
career as the anti-Pope, Felix v.
Bidding farewell to
Ripaille, Albergata and his household came to Basel, and from thence, in June
1435, they set out for Arras. The journey from Basel to Cologne was performed
by boat, and, as the company proceeded by easy stages down the Rhine, /Eneas
gained his first impression of the stately cities which he described in such
glowing terms, years later, in his Germania. At Strassburg he found “ so much
splendour and beauty that it has, not without good cause, been endowed with the
name of Argentina.” 3 The canals which intersected the city reminded
him of Venice, although Strassburg was “ healthier and pleasanter, the waters
which traverse it being fresh and clear, instead of salt and evil-smelling as
at Venice.” At Speyer he was chiefly interested in the noble Cathedral with the
tombs of the Emperors, among which he particularly noticed that of Rudolf of
Hapsbuig, “who is held to be the founder of the Austrian house.” “ Worms,” he
wrote, “ is not a
large town, yet no
one can deny that it is delightful. His historical mind at once associated it
with the famous Concordat on the investiture question, made there in 1122. The
ancient city of Mainz possessed " magnificent churches, and exceptionally
fine public and private buildings. Nothing in it seemed to him amiss, save the
extreme narrowness of the streets. His highest praise, however, is reserved
for Cologne. As a humanist he hailed it as “Colonia Agrippina,” named after
the mother of Nero; he reverenced it as a Christian on account of the bones of
the Magi enshrined in the Cathedral. “Noble in its churches and houses,
eminent in its citizens, famed for its wealth, . . . adorned by public
buildings and fortified by towers, it sports upon the banks of the Rhine
surrounded by smiling meadows. ... In all Europe you will find nothing grander
or fairer.” From Cologne the travellers took horse to Aachen, the
ancient crowning-place of the German kings, riding from thence through the
prosperous trading cities of the Low Countries, Liege, Louvain, Douay, and
Toumay, until they came at last to Arras.
At Arras, Aeneas
found himself among a brilliant and numerous company. Almost all the chief
States of Europe sent representatives to the Congress. Albergata himself came
as Papal Legate, Cardinal Hugh of Lusignan represented the Council of Basel,
and some nine thousand strangers thronged the streets. The most conspicuous
figure of the assembly was Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, then in the
prime of his manhood. All knew that the issue of the Congress turned on him. If
he decided to renounce the English alliance and to make his peace with the King
of France, the war would lose half its terrors, while the end could be only a
question of time. In the intervals of the negotiations the members of the
Congress sought relaxation in banquets and tournaments, and here the Duke of
Burgundy surpassed himself in courtesy and affability. Only the English stood
sullenly aloof from
Our hero’s adventures
began at Calais. The English not unnaturally regarded Cardinal Albergata “ with
After recrossing the
Channel, /Eneas made his way to Bruges, and from thence he embarked at Sluys on
a vessel bound for Scotland. Once more he experienced ill-luck at sea. Two
terrible storms arose and drove the ship in the direction of Norway, so far
North that the sailors were no longer able to recognise the stars. At last “divine pity intervened, and caused the north wind to arise and blow the vessel
towards land, so that on the twelfth day the coast of Scotland came in sight.” In the hour of peril iEneas vowed to walk barefoot to the nearest shrine of the
Blessed Virgin if he should ever reach the shore. On landing at Dunbar he at
once set off on a pilgrimage of ten miles to Whitkirk. The way lay thick with
ice and snow, and when, after two hours spent at his devotions, he rose to
depart, his bare feet were so numbed that they refused to carry him. Supported
by his servants, he struggled to the nearest village, and in the process of the
effort warmth and life returned to his frozen limbs. For the rest of his life,
however, he was a victim to attacks of gout in the feet, which often caused him
intense suffering.
iEneas met with a
favourable reception from the Scottish monarch, and professed himself well
satisfied with the result of his mission. The expenses of his journey were
paid, and he received besides two horses and a valuable pearl, which last he
determined to give to his mother. James i he describes as small and fat, with
bright, flashing eyes, passionate and revengeful in disposition. He mentions
his long captivity in England, from which he had
When the time came to
leave Scotland, the captain of the ship in which he had sailed from Sluys
offered him a passage back. But iEneas was too much alive to past dangers, and
he determined to travel home by way of
On his way south
/Eneas visited the tomb of the Venerable Bede at Durham, and then came to
York, “ where there is a church to be remembered throughout the world.” What
specially struck him were the “ glass walls, held together by slender columns.”
The metaphor enables us to catch the impression which the vast windows of York
/Eneas has little to
say of his life in ecclesiastical households, yet it may be assumed that he had
not found it a bed of roses. The position of a secretary varied, according to
the disposition of the master, between that of a son, a pupil, and a servant,
but in all cases the discipline of the household bore at least a resemblance to
that of the monastery. The master considered himself responsible for the
general training of his subordinates ; breaches of rule and moral delinquencies
were punished with fasts, stripes, and imprisonment. Apart from the strict
discipline to which they were subjected, the secretaries suffered from the
common curse of community-life—petty rivalries and jealousies. “ Believe me,”
wrote /Eneas, “ there is no harder lodging than a prince’s court. Here strife,
envy, calumny, hatred, contumely, and infinite ills find their home. And in the
courts of ecclesiastics these things are
Disadvantages
notwithstanding, the four years of apprenticeship had given iEneas just the
training which he needed. “ A secretary,” he wrote, " is one who knows how
to choose his words, and put them together dexterously, who is versed in the
art of soothing, or of exciting the passions, whose writings are adorned by
elegance, humour, and learning, . . . who, in short, is able to express everything
that comes within the scope of a letter briefly, elgantly, accurately, and
wisely.” A “ secretary alone,” he concludes, " can render
absent men present.” Who was more capable of satisfying these requirements than
iEneas Silvius, with his facile pen and his multifarious interests ? He had, in
truth, found his vocation, and his future triumphs were won, to a great extent,
through the exercise of a secretary’s craft upon a larger scale. Even today he
is still the ideal secretary of his conception. His writings make the past live
again, and render an absent age present to succeeding generations.
CHAPTER III
THE COUNCIL OF BASEL
FROM the point of view
of history, the most enduring political achievement of /Eneas Silvius was the
restoration of the Papal power upon the ruins of the Council of Basel. Six
momentous years of his life, however, were spent as the champion and
pamphleteer of the Council in its most revolutionary phase. Thus from first to
last our hero’s career is closely associated with that effort to reform the
Church from within which we call the conciliar movement. In order to understand
/Eneas as a politician it is necessary to grasp something of the significance
of that movement, of the appeal which it made to the minds of the age, and of
the inherent weakness which brought about its failure. His own connection with
the movement passed through many stages. From a member of the moderate party he
became a champion of the extreme anti-Papalists, and then an instrument in the
downfall of his some-time allies. Finally, his political work as Pope consisted
to a large extent in undoing the effects of the Council of Basel. The Compacts
with the Hussites of Bohemia, the Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges, and the
declaration of German neutrality were alike fruits of the Council, and the
reversal of all three measures was the work of Pius n.1
Nevertheless, his apostasy is not so
black as it seems.
When he first threw in his lot with the Council, there was good hope that it
might effect a real reformation in the Church. When he severed his connection
with it, that hope was lost. If /Eneas had left Basel in 1438 instead of in
1442, his political career would have been free from inconsistency. But he
remained for four years longer, at the sacrifice of his convictions, and in so
doing he made a grave political mistake. The years of exile in Germany which
followed, formed an appropriate penance for the last phase of his career at
Basel.
During the troubled
years of the fourteenth century, when Avignon usurped the rights of Rome and
the Papal power seemed tied to the chariot wheels of France, when the efforts
of S. Catherine of Siena to restore the Papacy to Rome only resulted in the
deeper confusion of the Great Schism, men’s minds turned to the conciliar
theory as the panacea for the Church’s ills. By this means alone could the
Church be raised from the mire, and sent forth purged and strengthened to
battle with the world. A General Council, said the promoters of the movement,
expressed the mind of the whole Christian Church. In the words of the famous
Constance decree, “ it has its power immediately from Christ, and all of every
rank, even the Papal, are bound to obey it.” 1 The theory emanated
from the University of Paris ; it was a weapon forged by scholars and
theologians in the course of their long warfare with the Papacy. Carried into
effect, it would introduce a democratic element into the hitherto rigidly
monarchical government of the Church, and it was hailed with enthusiasm by all
the advanced spirits of the age. At the same time, statesmen welcomed it as a
means of effecting the much needed reform of the Papacy. All considered the
existing state of affairs a disgrace, yet all had faltered before the task of
reforming a power which admitted no limitations, and acknowledged no earthly
superior. Hence the Council of Constance was supported, not only by the
Universities,
but also by the chief
European powers. Their combined efforts achieved some measure of success. The
abdication or deposition of the three rival Popes removed the most glaring
scandal from the Church, while the decree Frequens (9 October 1417) asserted
the superiority of General Councils and made provision for their recurrence.
When, however, the Council proceeded to the reform of the Church " in head
and members,” it was brought to a standstill by the discovery that Christendom
no longer possessed a common mind. The Universities were zealous for reform,
but the nations of Europe, although unanimous on the necessity of ending the
schism, were, on all other subjects, either indifferent or tom by conflicting
interests. “ The Council of Constance,” says Creighton, “ failed because it
represented Christendom too faithfully, even to its national dissensions.”
In 1423, the year in
which .Eneas came to the University, the first Council summoned in accordance
with the Constance decree met at Siena. But the scant support which it
received and the quarrels among its members gave Pope Martin v an excuse for
dissolving the assembly in March 1424, before anything had been accomplished.
He consented without misgiving to the summons of a fresh Council, to be held
at Basel in seven years’ time, strong in the knowledge that the control of the
situation lay in the hands of the restored Papacy.
The Council of Basel
would, in all probability, have been as ineffective as its predecessor but for
the genius and enthusiasm of one man. Cardinal Giuliano Cesarini came to Basel
in September 1431 to take up the office of president. Less than a month before,
he had been present at the disastrous battle of Tauss, and had witnessed the
rout of the crusading army by the warrior heretics of Bohemia. Convinced that
the war against the Hussites could not be waged with the sword, he fixed his
hopes upon the Council of Basel as the means whereby rebel Bohemia could be
brought within the fold of the Church. Gifts of
When Cesarini came to
Basel the Council was composed of three bishops, seven abbots and a few
doctors, and the first semblance of activity which he contrived to produce in
this meagre assembly was met by the Pope’s Bull of dissolution. Undaunted by
this unpromising beginning, he addressed a dignified protest to the Pope,
imploring him, if he cared aught for the welfare of the Church, to reconsider
his action. Having thus satisfied his honour as a servant of the Papacy, he
turned to the affairs of the Council, and threw himself into the work of
organisation. Very soon the effect of his presence made itself felt. The
Hussites accepted his invitation to a Conference, and the Emperor Sigismund
showed himself ready to champion the cause of an assembly which promised a
solution of his difficulties as King of Bohemia. The King of France professed
his determination “ to live and die with the Council,” while fresh arrivals
added daily to the numbers of the Fathers. In November 1432, /Eneas Silvius
wrote of the number of ecclesiastics present as “ great and noble,” including “
a vast quantity of bishops and abbots from all parts of Christendom.” The
Council was fully organised ; its officers were chosen. The whole assembly, in
fact, was established upon a firm basis, and there was
.^Eneas's connection
with the Council of Basel began in the early days of Cesarini’s ascendancy.
From the time of his arrival in Capranica’s train he made a practice of sending
reports of the Council’s doings to the Republic of Siena,® and the references
to Cesarini contained in these letters show how entirely the impressionable
young secretary succumbed to the dominating influence at Basel. When the envoys
of the University of Paris spoke vehemently against Eugenius iv, urging that “
he should forthwith
In 1436 the Council
of Basel was, to all outward appearances, at the height of its power. It had
won for itself the support of Europe, and in the face of this general consensus
of opinion the Pope had been forced to yield. In January 1434 envoys from Rome
arrived in Basel to announce that
the Bull of
dissolution was revoked, and that the Pope had declared his adhesion to the Council.
It was a signal triumph for Cesarini, and seemed to open the path to far-
reaching schemes for the reform of the Church. Yet, once more, the history of
Constance repeated itself, and the handling of the delicate question of reform
proved fatal to the Council’s future career. Weaknesses became apparent which
had hitherto been concealed, unity was marred by the strife of factions. The
division lay between Cesarini and other disinterested promoters of reform on
the one hand, and, opposed to them, the clamorous party whose conception of
reform was limited to attacks upon the Papal power. Head and chief of the
extremists was Louis d’Allemand, Cardinal of Arles. A man of high character and
sound learning, he strove for the cause which he had at heart with a freedom
from considerations of self-interest as complete as that of Cesarini. At the
same time he was a born fighter, consumed with bitter hatred of Eugenius iv,
and, in all questions pertaining to the Council, as eager for warfare as was
Cesarini for peace. He was followed by the bulk of the French clergy and by the
University representatives, all moved by unreasoning hostility to the Papacy.
“ With regard to the reform of the Church,” wrote our hero of d’Allemand and
his supporters, “ they held it well done and wholly reformed if the Pope left
freedom to the Chapters, if he made no reservations, if he received no annates,
if he gave Apostolic letters without fee, and if he commended to no churches. .
. . Reform only seemed to them holy if it stripped the Apostolic See.” 1
The rise to power of
this extreme party is marked by the decree abolishing annates which issued from
the Council in June 1435. Quite apart from the general principle involved,
annates, under the existing system, formed the Pope’s chief source of income,
and to cut them
off at one blow,
without attempting to provide a substitute, was the action of wilful opponents
rather than of earnest and prudent reformers. Eugenius iv at once gained an
excuse for his attitude towards the Council, and public opinion, which he had
alienated by his own violence, began to veer towards the Papacy, in disgust at
the absence of moderation displayed by the anti-Papal party. For Cesarini, too,
the decree against annates marked the parting of the ways. Till then his
influence had sufficed to restrain the more vehement opponents of the Papacy,
but now for the first time he had to bow before defeat. “ Quarrels broke out
again,” writes /Eneas, “ and the division arose not so much between Pope and
Council as between the Fathers of the Council themselves.”Cesarini’s place in the assembly was no longer that of arbiter ; he became
little more than leader of the minority.
When
/Eneas took up his life at Basel in the spring of
Meanwhile, our hero
found consolation for his disappointment in the opportunity which arose for
him to make his first public oration. The envoy appointed by the Duke of
When Cesarini
encouraged /Eneas in his ambitions for Siena he had done so because the city
stood more or less on neutral ground. It was in Italy, yet it was not, as
Venice or Florence, definitely Papal in sympathy. The same might be said of
Pavia, with this difference—that the Duke of Milan was a mighty Prince, feared
alike by his friends at Basel and his enemies of the Papal party, and that all
hesitated to place the future Council under his influence. Hence the ultimate
decision of the Fathers was not affected by /Eneas’s eloquence. On 5 December a
majority of two-thirds voted for the transference of the Council to Avignon. In
vain Cesarini protested that Avignon was not among the places mentioned by the
Greeks. The city had made satisfactory replies to the demand for a loan, and
the French party seized the excuse for keeping the Council out of Italy.
/Eneas’s oration had
failed to help his cause, but at least it furthered his own advancement; the
Archbishop of Milan acknowledged his services by bestowing on him a provostship
in the Church of S. Lorenzo in Milan. Unfortunately, the Chapter of S. Lorenzo
had already made
During /Eneas’s
absence from Basel the controversy over the future seat of the Council had
raged without intermission. Affairs were now rapidly approaching a crisis, and
the unedifying quarrels and vain attempts at reconciliation which marked the
final stages of the struggle have been immortalised in a letter which /Eneas
wrote
The schism of May 7
did, in truth, mark the beginning of the end. From that time forward events
followed one another in quick succession, each adding its span to the chasm
which yawned between the rival parties at Basel. Before the end of the month,
Eugenius iv took his stand upon the decree of the minority, and fixed Florence
or Udine as the seat of the conference. In July, the dominant party in the
Council drew up its indictment against the Pope, and summoned him to Basel to
answer the charges brought against him. In September, Eugenius answered the
challenge by a Bull of dissolution. Thus, for the second time in its history,
the Council of Basel was deprived of the sanction of the head of Christendom,
and Cesarini’s hopes of unity between Pope and Council received their
death-blow. For a few months the gallant Cardinal lingered on, striving to
promote peace, but he could not stifle the growing conviction that the time had
come for a loyal son of the Church to turn his back upon Basel. On 20 December
he addressed the Council for the last time. He spoke with grief of the war of
letters and pamphlets which waged between the rival factions, and deplored the
time spent in mutual recrimination. With all his old eloquence he besought the
Fathers to consider what they were doing, and to pause before they plunged the
Church into the ills of a fresh schism. But the shame of the past months had
shattered his enthusiastic idealism; God alone knew, he declared, whether the
cause for which he had laboured were true or false. Early in January 1438 he
rode out of Basel,1 and passed for the time being out of the life of
.(Eneas Silvius. Yet his influence over our hero was more than transitory, and
/Eneas never ceased to think and write of him in the language of hero-worship.
The two had
When Cesarini left
Basel, he offered horses and money for the journey to all who were willing to
accompany him.3 If iEneas had been guided by conviction alone, he
would undoubtedly have accepted the offer. Although no advocate of Eugenius, he
had little in common with the Cardinal of Arles and his supporters. His letters
since his return to Basel were written from the point of view of an impartial
observer, seeing light and darkness on both sides, and using
/Eneas was now a
person of some note in the Council, and during the next two years he rose
rapidly. He was made head of the secretarial department, and later became
Abbreviator Major, in which capacity he drafted the less important letters and
documents issued in the name of the Fathers. He was sent on various embassies,
and often presided over the Deputation of Faith to which he belonged.2
1 iEneas
Silvius to Piero da Noceto (Wolkan, Ep. 24).
“The Council of Basel
was organised for business into four Deputations : Faith, Reformation, Peace,
General Purposes. Each elected its
He even sat on the
Committee of Twelve, “ which office was of great weight, for the Deputations
could discuss nothing that had not been laid before them by the Twelve, nor
could anyone be admitted to the Council without their sanction.” 1
In the summer of 1439, his labours were interrupted by a terrible outbreak of
pestilence.2 Hardly a house in Basel escaped the ravages of the
disease, and between Easter and Martinmas some 5000 deaths were recorded. “ The
youth of the city,” writes /Eneas, “ fell like leaves of the forest before the
first frost of autumn.” Nor was the Council spared. In the Patriarch of
Aquileia, and the learned jurist Lodovico Pontano, it lost two of its most
prominent supporters, while there were numerous gaps in the lower ranks of the
assembly. As the terror increased many were in favour of leaving Basel, at
least for a time; but the Cardinal of Arles, fearing that if the Council were
once prorogued it would never reassemble, remained valiantly at his post, and
his example sufficed to keep a nucleus of the Fathers together. It was a
strange, gloomy summer for all who remained in the pestilence-stricken city.
Many people shut themselves up in their houses and shunned all intercourse with
their fellows, while those who were obliged to venture into the streets went
about holding their breath, lest they should catch the fumes of the disease. At
every corner they met a funeral, or a priest hurrying with the Blessed
Sacrament to the dying. So rapid was the course of the disease that it was
possible to see a man alive and well, and to hear ten hours later that he was
buried. /Eneas himself was among the victims; his friends despaired of his
life, and even caused him to receive extreme unction. He escaped from the very
jaws of death through the good
offices of a pious
German doctor, whom, according to his own account, he preferred to a clever but
unbelieving Frenchman. “Wonderful was the faith and goodness of the man, and
almost unheard of in a doctor ”—the good German actually refused to take the
six gold ducats which ZEneas offered him by way of payment, and, when they were
pressed upon him, he would only accept them on the understanding that he
should cure six poor people for nothing. ^Eneas’s joy at his own recovery was
mingled with sorrow at the loss of a dear friend, one Jean Pinan, the secretary
of the Cardinal of Arles. On hearing the sad news, “ the half of his soul
seemed to have been taken from him, and he no longer had any enthusiasm for the
affairs of the Council, nor any energy for the pursuit of learning.” “ Alas,”
he exclaims, “ for the uncertainty of earthly things ! alas, for the vain
promises of the world ! ^Eneas, who in his own person could not die, died in
that of his friend.” The plague was a cause of material loss to ^Eneas, for it
cost him his provostship of S. Lorenzo. Filippo Maria Visconti was already
wavering in his allegiance to the Council, and he took advantage of the rumours
of .(Eneas’s death to bestow the provostship upon another. In vain our hero
addressed letters of complaint to his friend the Archbishop of Milan. The Duke
had no further need for his services in Basel, and the some-time provost was
obliged to console himself with a canonry at Trent assigned to him by the
Council. Even here he encountered some opposition, and he did not enjoy the
income of the canonry until he had gone in person to Trent and ousted “ a
certain German, a quarrelsome and crafty man who had intruded himself by means
of the Chapter.” 1 Such were the words which a champion of the
conciliar movement permitted himself to use of the much vaunted freedom of
capitular election.
Meanwhile the Council
pursued its course. By a decree of 25 June 1439, Eugenius iv was deposed from
his office,
and as soon as the
cessation of the pestilence enabled the sessions to be resumed, the Fathers
proceeded to the business of electing an anti-Pope. On 29 October, .Eneas
wrote to the Archbishop of Milan enclosing a list of the thirty- three electors
who were to enter the Conclave on the morrow.1 He himself had been
advised to take orders so as to qualify for the office of elector, but he
contented himself with acting as a clerk of the Conclave and master of the
ceremonies. In this capacity he had full opportunity of observing the
proceedings, which followed closely the Roman ritual. He also took note of such
incidental details as the disappointment of those who had made all preparations
for entering the Conclave only to find that they had not been chosen as
electors, or the anxiety which others displayed about their food, which was
passed into the Conclave through a window under his own inspection. These and
other living touches find their way, with perhaps more truthfulness than
decorum, into his Commentaries on the Council.
The leaders of the
Council had not acted without forethought, and before the Conclave began it was
already tolerably certain upon whom the choice of the electors would fall. On 6
November, .Eneas announced in the time-honoured phrase that “ we have a Pope .
. . the most illustrious Duke of Savoy.” “ He has dominions,” he added, “ on
both sides of the Alps. All Italy will tremble, and there will not be a safe
comer left for Gabriel.” 2 A few weeks later our hero was once more
at Ripaille, being a member of the deputation sent to announce the news of the
election to the royal hermit, and to prepare the way for his assumption of his
new dignities.
The coronation of
Felix v, as Amadeus decided to call himself, took place at Basel on 24 July
1440, and again
1 .Eneas Silvius to Francesco Pizzolpasso,
Archbishop of Milan, Basel,
29 Oct. 1439 (Wolkan, Ep. 31).
2 .Eneas Silvius to the Archbishop of
Milan, 6 Nov. 1439 (Wolkan, Ep. 33 ; cf. also Ep. 32 to the Sienese Republic).
To the champion of the Council Eugenius iv is now Ga,briel Condulmier,
.(Eneas constituted
himself the historian of the occasion. A vast platform, he tells us,1
was erected outside the Cathedral, and here the ceremony was performed amid a
splendid company of nobles and ecclesiastics. The spectators numbered some
50,000 ; roofs, windows, trees were all occupied, and the square itself “ was
so full of people that there was no space for a grain of mustard- seed.” Felix
amazed every one by his intimate acquaintance with ecclesiastical ceremony. He
did not make a single slip himself, and even corrected the mistakes of others.
“No one would have thought that a man who had been immersed in worldly affairs
for forty years would be able so to steep himself in the rites of the
Church." He celebrated Mass with the utmost dignity, his two sons acting
as servers, and many wept with joy and emotion at the sight of “ the aged
father celebrating while his noble sons served him, like young olive trees
round about the altar.” Finally the magnificent triple crown was produced, and
the Cardinal of Arles reaped the reward of his labours for the Council as, amid
breathless silence, he placed it upon the new Pope’s head. The company then
formed itself into a procession and passed through the streets of Basel, the
Bishop of Strassburg bearing the Host, and the place which custom assigned to
the captains of the Papal fleet being occupied by the Pope’s companions at
Ripaille, the six Knights of S. Maurice. Last of all came “ he whom all eyes
sought,” Felix v, the Pope of the Council of Basel, wearing the Papal tiara,
and blessing the people as he went.
One small contretemps
alone marred the effect of the coronation ceremony, and /Eneas would not be
himself if he failed to record it. It fell to the notaries and secretaries of
the Council to chant the responses to the prayers, but when the moment came “
they gave forth so discordant a sound that they produced not only laughter but
tears.”
For the next week
these amateur choristers and their chant formed the favourite subject of
gossip, and many were overcome with shame at the thought of their performance.
“ But I,” says #:neas, “ although I was among them, did not regard my ignorance
of singing as a disgrace, . . . and the next day, when the same office was said
at the Dominican Convent, I did not blush to chant my lay.” 1
His own joy in the
occasion was rendered complete by his being made one of Felix v’s secretaries.
At the Roman Curia a secretaryship carried with it numerous perquisites and
boundless opportunities of advancement, so that for the moment /Eneas felt as
if his fortune were made. He threw himself with increased ardour into the cause
of the Council, and the year 1440 saw the production of two important literary
works, both written from the standpoint of a whole-hearted champion of the
conciliar movement. The University of Cologne had lately made a pronouncement
which recognised the superiority of General Councils, but did not do so in
sufficiently unqualified terms to satisfy the stalwarts at Basel. In answer to
this, /Eneas wrote the first of his polemical essays,2 the “
Dialogues on the Authority of a General Council.” Here the arguments in favour
of the conciliar theory in general, and of the Council of Basel in particular,
are set forth by means pf a discussion between Nicholas of Cusa, a recent
convert of the Papal party, and Stefano da Caccia, an anti-Papal secretary.
Contemporaries doubtless appreciated the author’s fresh and individual
treatment of a well-worn theme, but the charm of the work to-day lies chiefly
in the secondary series of dialogues, between /Eneas himself and a cultivated
Frenchman, Martin Lefranc, which are introduced at intervals in the weightier
discussion. In the development of such congenial topics as the value of
eloquence or the pleasures of country life, the early history of France or the
explanation of a
passage in Vergil, /Eneas the humanist comes to his own.
/Eneas’s first
historical work, the Commentaries on the Council of Basel,1
also partakes of the nature of a political pamphlet. The events of which it
treats are confined practically to the year 1439 ; it is the song of the Council’s
triumph, a paean of thanksgiving for the happy era which has dawned for the
Church under the auspices of her new shepherd. In 1440 the author undoubtedly
believed what he wrote, but disillusionment followed hard upon the heels of
rejoicing. He soon found that a secretary to Felix v was in a very different
position from a secretary to a Pope whom all Europe recognised. As the months
slipped by, the meagre amount of business which came to the anti- Papal Curia,
the constant difficulties as to finance, and the growing discontent taught him
that he had made a mistake, that there was in fact no future for the Council of
Basel and its adherents.
The Council of Basel
had failed, as its predecessor of Constance, and for the same reason—once the
extreme party gained the ascendancy its acts no longer represented the common
mind of Christendom. The powers of Europe desired above all things to avoid a
fresh schism. They felt that the Fathers were not acting fairly by Eugenius iv,
and from 1435 onwards their interest in the Council waned. Those princes who
still supported it were moved for the most part by personal hostility to
Eugenius iv, or by some other purely political' consideration. As to the
general attitude of Europe, it is best gauged by the two great ecclesiastical
measures of the year 1438, the Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges, and the
declaration of German neutrality. Here the two chief nations of Europe
expressed their determination to take no further part in the quarrel between
Pope and Council. Germany was content to stand aside until some means could be
found for the restoration of unity. France took the ecclesiastical problem
into 1 Op. cit., Opera, pp. 1-61.
her own hands, and
prepared to carry out by royal authority such reforms as suited her needs.
Thus, a few months after Cesarini’s departure, the prospect of an effective
reform of the Church, emanating from the Council of Basel, had ceased to be
within the bounds of possibility. “ Among the Bishops and Fathers at Basel,”
said /Eneas when he reviewed the situation some years later, “we saw cooks and
stablemen judging the affairs of the world; who would credit their words and
acts with the authority of law ? ” 1 In his desire to make the
Council thoroughly representative, Cesarini had organised it on the broadest
possible basis,2 but when public opinion was alienated the
democratic organisation defeated its own object. The deliberations of the “
disorderly, irresponsible crowd, in which learned and unlearned were admitted
on equal terms,” had no weight in the eyes of Europe. They were but the
manoeuvres of the attacking party in a struggle with which it had no concern.
His own successes at
Basel and the glamour cast over the Council by the advent of Felix v had
blinded iEneas, for a time, to the true nature of the situation, and when at
last it was brought home to him it was not so easy to find a way of escape. If
he had no prospects in Italy in 1438, he certainly had none after 1440, when he
was celebrated for the fierceness of his attacks upon the Papacy. His chief
hope lay in Germany, the neutral power which both Pope and Council strove to
lure to their side. During the frequent negotiations which took place between
Felix v and the Germans he contrived to win the favour of some influential
members of the Imperial Court. When in November 1442 the Emperor Frederick 111
visited Basel, he knew enough of the gifted Italian to realise that he might be
a useful servant. ./Eneas left Basel in the
Emperor’s train, to
begin life anew as a secretary in the Imperial Chancery at Vienna.
ZEneas’s six years’
sojourn at Basel had added greatly to his experience of life. At Siena every
one was ready to encourage the promising student and to praise his talents.
Here he had to make his mark amid striving rivals, and to face the struggle for
existence in an overcrowded market. He learned, too, to adapt himself to the
cosmopolitan company in which he lived and worked. He came in contact with
scholars and politicians of every shade of opinion, and from them he gathered,
not only the details of European politics, but much valuable material for the
study of human nature. Cesarini occupied a place apart in his esteem, but he
also had a profound admiration for the intrepid Cardinal of Arles, and besides
these two great leaders there were many remarkable men who had their share in
the proceedings at Basel. Among them was the mystic philosopher, Nicholas of
Cusa, whose work on Catholic unity was regarded as one of the chief weapons of
the conciliar movement, but who, like his master Cesarini, went over to the
side of the Papacy after the crisis of 1437. ZEneas, as we have seen, made Cusa
one of the figures in his Dialogues, and his connection with him did not end
here. John of Segovia, the patient scholar and historian of the Council, who
remained at Basel to the last; the learned Neapolitan jurist, Lodovico Pontano,
whom /Eneas attended on his death-bed ; the Spaniard, Juan de Tor- quemada, most
gifted and unbending of theologians; Ambrogio Traversari, the Papal envoy, a
cultured disciple of humanism—these and other eminent men crossed .ZEneas’s
path at Basel. Among the lesser company of lawyers and secretaries he had many
friends. Cesarini’s steward, the Cardinal of Arles’s secretary, a German
professor and a French scholar were among his intimates, and when some of these
chosen comrades met for supper the talk ranged over the whole field of politics
and letters. The leading men of Europe were discussed from the point of
view of their
subordinates, and their vices and virtues were laid bare before the tribunal of
the rising generation.
It was a stirring
life, centring round a gathering that was in itself half Parliament, half
picnic, and ZEneas lived it to the full. He left Basel with a growing contempt
for politics, ecclesiastical and secular, and a profound belief in the
brilliant future which lay before the votaries of humanism. In politics he
realised, with perhaps exaggerated clearness, the importance of small things.
He saw personal enmities and ambitions influencing men’s attitude towards the
gravest questions of the day ; in everything he felt the overwhelming power of
money. The prevailing atmosphere was too much both for his sensitiveness to
impression and his inherent superficiality. His outlook on life grew cynical,
while personal ambition became the ruling motive of his political career.
Politics, in fact, was a game which he could play with the best, being provided
with what seemed the one really effective weapon of the day—the new learning.
At Basel the control of the situation lay with those who could give expression
to their knowledge in a persuasive form. Men who, in ^Eneas’s happy phrase,
possessed " more soul than eloquence ” were at a hopeless disadvantage.
Side by side with his realisation of the political value of humanism went his
increasing joy in letters for their own sake. As the impulse to express himself
grew daily more insistent, /Eneas learned that his true vocation was literary
rather than political. Politics were a matter of daily bread, but his heart lay
in " the idle and unrewarded pursuits of poetry, rhetoric, and history.”
CHAPTER IV
THE IMPERIAL CHANCERY
AENEAS’S acquaintance with his Imperial master began in a manner
after his own heart. In the
This promising
beginning made /Eneas enter upon his new duties in the most buoyant spirits. He
had obtained his post, it seemed to him, on the strength of his literary
reputation, and he pictured for himself a brilliant future as the Court
humanist of Frederick ill, a centre of light and learning among the
uncultivated but admiring Germans. His chief hope of advancement lay in the
Chancellor, Kaspar Schlick, a man of force and ability who had stood high in
the confidence of three successive Emperors. The Chancellor’s mother was
Italian, and during the Emperor Sigismund’s visit to Siena he had lodged with
/Eneas’s relations, Niccolo Lolli and his family. Thus Schlick was from the
first prepared to befriend the new Italian secretary, and to him /Eneas’s
earliest efforts in humanist panegyric were addressed. In December 1442, on his
return to the Court after a temporary absence, he was greeted by a poem of
/Eneas’s composition,and this was followed by a neatly turned
essay, bristling with classical allusions, on the diversity of human tastes and
ambitions.At the same
AENEAS SILVIUS
RECEIVES THE POET’S CROWN FROM FREDERICK III
FROM THE FRESCO BY
PINTORICCHIO Piccolomini Library, Siena
time /Eneas embarked
upon a more serious work, a political tract known as the Pentalogus, which
takes the form of a discussion on the politics of the day between five persons
—the Emperor, the Chancellor, the Bishops of Freisingen and Chiemsee, and the
author himself.1 The moral of the Pentalogus is the value of
humanist education as a political asset, and more especially the advantages
which would accrue to Frederick 111 if he would consent to pursue the study of
the classics under the guidance of /Eneas Silvius.
/Eneas’s transference
to Vienna also made it possible for him to renew his intercourse with various
Italian friends, of whom he had heard little or nothing during the last years
at Basel. The Archbishop of Milan wrote to congratulate him on having found a
post in which he could do much for the welfare of both Church and State, while
he promised to do his best to reinstate /Eneas in his lost provostship.2
Cesarini, too, wrote a warm letter, only regretting that his “ dearest /Eneas ”
was not back in Italy, and begging him not to forget “ the friendship and
goodwill that ever existed between us.” 3 Thus on all sides our
hero’s prospects seemed bright, and a letter to one of his many friends
reflects his cheerful frame of mind : “ Do not be surprised at hearing of me in
these parts, for I have been called by the King’s Majesty to the office of
secretary ; I have also been adorned with the title of poet laureate, of which
name I am far from worthy; nevertheless, what the King gave could not be
refused. You will find me, therefore, with this Prince, driven here by the
storms which rage in the Church ; I rejoice to have found a safe haven where I
may live henceforth, far from the strife of prelates.”
There was, however,
another side to the picture. In the Imperial Chancery, Jineas, at the age of
thirty-seven, found himself at the bottom of the ladder. He had to start his
career afresh with everything against him, conscious that he was disliked and
despised by his fellow-secretaries, and that his very presence was regarded in
the light of an intrusion. Few of the subordinate officials in the Chancery
drew a fixed salary ; they received only their board and lodging and a
commission upon the documents which they drafted. Thus every addition to their
number made one more to share the scanty profits, and if the intruder were a
foreigner his coming was doubly resented. During the early days of his sojourn
at the Imperial Court Jineas was subjected to every form of petty persecution.
" He was esteemed the last of all; he had the worst bed and the worst
place at table; he was hated, mocked at, and treated as an enemy.” 1
He had most to endure during the Chancellor’s absence, when the control of the
Chancery fell to one Wilhelm Taz, “ a Bavarian and an enemy of the Italian name
who tormented iEneas in many subtle ways.” 2 The burden of
his lot pressed heavily upon the sensitive Italian, and the remembrance of what
he himself suffered inspires the pages of his tract upon the Miseries of
Courtiers, one of the most popular and widely read of his works.3
There are few more realistic pictures of the seamy side of Court- life than
that set forth in De Curialium Miseriis. It describes the German Court from the
point of view of an Italian of the middle classes, revealing at every turn both
the marked superiority of Italian civilisation and also the fastidious,
over-sensitive nature of the author. The slovenly, irregular meals were among
^Eneas’s daily trials. The dirty wooden bowl handed round from mouth to mouth
disgusted him as much as the poor quality of the wine which it contained. The
sight of the tablecloth—soiled, sticky,
and full of
holes—took away what appetite he could muster for the cold, or twice-cooked,
joints, the rancid butter, the cheese alive with vermin and harder than any
stone, the eggs that seemed about to become chickens, and the fish or
vegetables stewed in oil taken from the lamps, and smelling strong enough to slay
a serpent. He resented having to eat black bread, not because it was cheaper
than white, but because the Germans preferred it. He suffered in spirit at
being thought troublesome because he asked for salt, or vinegar, or water when
the servants had neglected to put it on the table, or at the sight of a dainty
dish from the royal table being sent down to a more favoured companion.
Against all this squalor he set the picture of citizen- life in Siena, where “
in the pleasant company of wife and sweet children, men eat their chaste and
frugal meal.” Even the peasant among his flocks at Corsignano, dining off
chestnuts, milk, and ripe apples, washed down by water from the running stream,
was better off than the Emperor’s wretched secretary. As for the trials of the
night, they were worse than those of the day. Sometimes some ten or twenty of
the minor officials shared a common sleeping- room. One man would come in
drunk, another would throw his boots off, another would snore, there would
never be a moment’s quiet until after midnight. Even his bed, with its damp,
dirty linen, must be shared with some distasteful companion. Night and day,
there was never solitude for the miserable courtier; he lived in a crowd, often
idle but never at leisure. “ If you have found some table where you can read or
write, at once some one comes and disturbs you ; and if others leave you in
peace, the steward will be there making up his accounts and jingling his money.
Nowhere is there a quiet comer in which you can say with Scipio, ‘ I am never
less lonely than when I am alone.’ ”
To the citizen of an
Italian Republic the atmosphere of a Court seemed stifling and highly
artificial. Flattery usurped the place of truth, free discussion was impossible
; the courtier must be all things to all men, and must twist
Dogged determination
not to give in alone enabled him to live through these dreary days. “ He put
back his ears like the unwilling ass when it receives a heavier burden upon its
back ” 1 is his own graphic description of his behaviour. Pride and
ambition alike forbade him to accept defeat, so he set his teeth and prepared
to await the dawning of a happier day.
Even harder to bear
than the slights and discomforts of his daily existence was the knowledge that
he had been mistaken as to the value which his new masters placed upon his
literary gifts. Humanism, as iEneas understood it, was almost non-existent in
Germany, and the truisms of Italy were still dangerous and new-fangled
doctrines north of the Alps. His passionate love of literature for its own sake
called forth no sympathy among a nation that regarded the study of poetry as
useless, if not actually immoral. His naive delight in all that savoured of
antiquity, his diligent pursuit of the arts of style and speech, were simply
not appreciated by a people who set no store by the graces and refinements of
life. Judged by Italian standards, Frederick in was anything but satisfactory
as a patron of learning. His tastes were those of a simple and somewhat
indolent country gentleman, and literary pursuits were only one degree less
wearisome to him than
From first to last
the atmosphere of Germany was quite uncongenial to iEneas. Latin to his
finger-tips, he hated the Teutons, their climate, their manners and their
habits of mind, and contact with them seemed to bring out all that was worst in
his nature. During the first years of his exile he sought relief from his
misery in unrestrained vice, yet the very debaucheries which they shared
together only accentuated the differences between him and his companions. The
gluttony and drunkenness of the Germans disgusted him, and their sordid revels
bore but faint resemblance to the flower-bedecked love-feasts of Siena. The
Germans, for their part, could not understand iEneas, and the classical glamour
with which he clothed his licentiousness seemed to them a mere refinement of
wickedness. In his letters of this period there is a note of home-sickness, a
cry of yearning for “ the soft and pleasant air of Italy . . . where spring is
all but perpetual and the remaining months are summer,”and even
when success had crowned his struggles Italy was still the land of his desire.
“ When, my Giovanni, shall I see you again,” he wrote to a friend in
/Eneas regarded his
life in Germany as so many years spent in exile, nevertheless he rose during
this period from obscurity to fame. Kaspar Schlick might not appreciate
literary accomplishments, but he was keenly alive to the value of a good
servant, and he soon realised that the Italian secretary was peculiarly adapted
to his requirements. In the course of his wanderings /Eneas had made many
friends, and he took care never to lose sight of anyone who might be useful to
him on some future occasion. On leaving Basel he had carefully refrained from
severing his connection with the Council, and he was in active correspondence
with friends there, as well as with others at the Roman Curia. A man who
reckoned half the secretaries of Europe among his intimates was invaluable as a
political agent. So Schlick discovered in the course of the year 1443, when his
energies were directed towards establishing his brother Heinrich in the rich
bishopric of Freisingen, made vacant by the death of /Eneas’s former master,
Nicodemo della Scala. Loyalty to the principle of German neutrality
/Eneas’s surmises
proved correct. While the Council confirmed the capitular election, Eugenius iv
nominated Heinrich Schlick. The final stage of the struggle took
. . Thus all may know
that humility can easily be raised p, while pride can yet more easily be cast
down.” 2
The episode of the
Freisingen bishopric was of consider- ble political importance. The fact that
Rome had granted he favour, which Basel refused, definitely inclined Schlick nd
iEneas to the side of the Papacy, at a time when events rere hurrying the
reluctant Emperor towards some settle- lent of the ecclesiastical problem.
German neutrality was
at best a temporary expedient, et any attempt at a more permanent solution was
com- licated by the internal politics of the Empire—by the nending struggle
between the two principles of unity and sparatism, Imperial control and
territorial independence, diich make up German history at this period.
Frederick hi,
1 iEneas
Silvius to Campisio, 8 June 1441 (Wolkan, Ep. 148; Voigt, P- 115)-
a Commentarii, lib. i. p. 9.
for all his
indolence, had a strong feeling that it was incumbent on him, as Emperor, to
make at least an effort to end the schism. His ideas did not go beyond the
time- honoured scheme for a fresh General Council, summoned by himself, which
all Europe would recognise, and with this end in view /Eneas was employed,
during the summer of 1443, in drafting letters to the chief European rulers,
inviting their co-operation in the Emperor’s design. The same scheme was to be
laid before the princes of the Empire when they met at the Diet of Niirnberg in
August 1444. But they, meanwhile, had taken the matter into their own hands.
German neutrality served the purposes of the great territorial princes
remarkably well, and they had no desire to end a condition of affairs so
favourable to their separatist interests. In every ecclesiastical question that
arose they could play off one Pope against another, and so strengthen their own
control over the Churches in their dominions. It was undoubtedly the desire to
prolong the present situation which prompted a new development in
ecclesiastical politics in 1443—namely, a League of Imperial Electors in favour
of Felix v. European opinion, so far as it existed, was decidedly against the
Council of Basel, and in rallying to the support of the anti-Pope the German
princes knew well enough that they could not end the schism. Yet they might
conceivably be able to readjust the balance in Felix’s favour, thus
strengthening their own independence, and at the same time depriving the
Emperor of the prestige which would accrue to him from the restoration of
unity.
Such was the
situation in Germany at the opening of the Diet of Niirnberg, which the Emperor
attended in person, and where /Eneas figured in an official capacity as one of
the four Commissioners appointed to deal with the ecclesiastical question. As
might be supposed, the Diet only made plain the conflicting interests of
Emperor and Electors. It was clear that a nation divided against herself could
do little to restore unity to the Church. Frederick’s proposals
for the summons of a
fresh Council were rejected with contempt, and from henceforth each party acted
separately. The Emperor embarked on independent negotiations with the rival
Popes, which resulted shortly in his making his peace with Rome. The Electoral
League continued to exercise a spasmodic activity, and the ecclesiastical
history of the next few years turns upon the gradual undermining of its schemes
by the skilful diplomacy of iEneas Silvius. An attempt is sometimes made to
invest the action of the princes with the halo of patriotism, and ^Eneas is
represented as the wily ultramontane who frustrated an honest effort to reform
the German Church on national lines. If there had been any genuine national
movement in Germany the reproach would be well deserved, but the success of
^Eneas’s diplomacy came from his perception that these combinations of Electors
and princes were made for selfish ends. Patriotic motives served as a pretext,
but the true strength of the Electoral League lay in the territorial ambitions
of its individual members.
At the time of the
Diet of Niirnberg, ^Eneas’s official attitude towards the ecclesiastical
question was that which behoved a servant of the Emperor, namely, loyal
adherence to the principle of neutrality. But his opinions had undergone considerable
modification in the course of his sojourn at the Imperial Court, and he now
only awaited the opportunity to declare himself in his true colours. The
process of transformation, which turned a secretary of the antiPope into a
Papal agent, may be traced in his correspondence during the years 1443 and
1444. In April 1443, iEneas so far held to his former opinions as to write a
tract on the supreme authority of General Councils.1 His tone is
tentative throughout, and he confines his arguments to general grounds,
carefully abstaining from any mention of the Council of Basel, but there is
nothing in the tract to imply a radical change of position. Throughout the year
1 tineas
Silvius to Hartung von Kappel (Wolkan, Ep. 47 • also in Hollar).
he remained in close
touch with his friends at Basel, writing to them almost in the capacity of an
agent of the Council at the Imperial Court. He reports, for example, on the
behaviour of the Council’s representative, the Patriarch of Aquileia, and warns
d’Allemand that he is not at all equal to his work.1 He complains to
one of his friends that, in spite of the great services which he has rendered
and is still rendering to Felix v, he is neglected and forgotten. " I see
your intentions and your thoughts,”he writes; “because you know that I am loyal
and unchanging you turn your attention to others whose faith is wavering. You
provide for them lest they should go over to the enemy, but no one considers
him who is faithful and will ever remain so. . . . The least you can do is to
see that some benefice is given to me, who have served you so long.” 2
This letter was written in October 1443. In April of the following year /Eneas
gave a sure proof that his boasted loyalty to Basel was at an end—he tried to
sell his anti-Papal secretaryship.3 The cause of this sudden change
must be sought in the events of the intervening months, that is, in the
negotiations with regard to the Freisingen bishopric, and also in the answers
which Frederick 111 received to his proposal for the summons of a new Council.
These, it would appear, finally convinced /Eneas that the weight of European
opinion was on the side of Eugenius iv and that his cause must ultimately
triumph. If this were so, the summons of a new Council would only increase the
confusion ; the surest way of ending the schism would be to work for the
surrender of German neutrality and the return of the Empire to the Roman
obedience.
If peace were to be
restored to the Church by means of a
1 /Eneas Silvius to Louis d’Allemand, Oct.
1443 (Wolkan, Ep. 86; Voigt, Ep. 50).
a .Eneas
Silvius to a friend in Basel (Wolkan, Ep. 81 ; Voigt, Ep. 51).
3/Eneas
Silvius to Giovanni Peregallo, 18 April 1444 (Wolkan, Ep. 136; Opera, Ep. 61,
etc.) : “ Scriptorie officium, quod illic habeo, si emptorem reperit, pretium
mihi rescribe, ut si fieri potest, utiliter illo me levem, quia non sum ejus
animi, ut ad vos redeam.”
reconciliation
between Pope and Emperor, iEneas was obviously the right person to act as
mediator. The Freisingen episode had already indicated that his true vocation
was to serve as a connecting link between Germany and Italy, and the time was
now fast approaching when he could use his advantages upon a larger scale. As
early as November 1443, Piero da Noceto (now a secretary in the Roman Curia and
married to a fair Florentine lady who was endowed with every gift save riches),
wrote a pathetic appeal to his old friend to use his influence for the
promotion of peace between Pope and Emperor. “ Believe me, my sweetest iEneas,”
he wrote, “my earnings nowadays are barely enough to provide the necessities of
existence ; you know the ups and downs of the Curia. But if only the Church
were at peace and the Holy Father had the obedience of all, I should be able to
make a living out of my post.” 1 At the time iEneas could only
answer that he was the servant of a neutral Prince and must write and speak as
his master desired.2 But in May 1444 he is writing to Cesarini from
the point of view of one whose chief object is to end the neutrality of Germany.
“ The neutrality will be difficult to abolish,” he declares, “ because it is
useful to many. This new device is popular because no one in possession of an
ecclesiastical office, whether rightfully or wrongfully, can be deprived of
it, and the Bishops can bestow benefices at their pleasure. It is not easy to
snatch the prey from the wolf’s mouth.” 3 It was, indeed, no easy
task upon which iEneas was about to embark. As well as the opposition of the
Electoral League he had to reckon with the more insidious obstacle of the
Emperor’s apathy. The failure of the Diet of Niirnberg, however, made it
possible to try the experiment, and the first step
1 Piero da
Noceto to iEneas Silvius, 18 Nov. 1443 (Wolkan, Ep. 97 ; Opera, Ep. 170, etc.).
2 .Eneas Silvius to Noceto, 16 Jan. 1444
(Wolkan, Ep. 119; Opera, Ep. 45, etc.).
3 jEneas Silvius to Cesarini, 28 May 1444
(Wolkan, Ep. 142 ; Opera, Ep. 65, etc.).
was taken when
Frederick 111 agreed to send a deputation to Rome with /Eneas as its principal
member. The ostensible object of the embassy was to win the Pope’s assent to
the proposal for a new Council, but its real importance lay in the
re-establishment of personal relations between the Emperor and Eugenius iv.
Thus the victim of the " Basel heresy ” would obtain his own forgiveness
as the representative of a greater penitent. Eneas would see Italy again, and
the mistakes of the past would be blotted out. “ I wish you and my mother to
knpw that I am in excellent health and in daily expectation of improvement in
my fortunes,” he wrote to Silvio Piccolomini in November 1444. “ I pray you to
have good hope, for if God continues to favour me as He has now begun to do, I
may yet be an honour to you and to our family.” 1
Early in the year
1445 2 Eneas set out on his mission, in the highest spirits. The
road to Rome led him through Siena, and he was able to spend a few days with
his relations, whom he had not seen for eleven years. Delighted as the
Piccolomini were to see him again, they were filled with alarm at the thought
of his approaching interview with Eugenius. Mindful of all that he had spoken
and written at Basel, they besought him to consider the Pope’s revengeful
disposition and to turn back before it was too late. But Eneas knew well enough
that the services which he could render to the Pope in his present position
were sufficient to outweigh any temptation to vengeance, and he assured his
friends that they need not fear. At the same time he could notaltogether resist
the pleasureof playing the martyr; whatever the risk, he told them, he had no
choice but to obey the Emperor.3
His reception in Rome
left nothing to be desired. Piero
1 /Eneas Silvius to his father, 19 Nov.
1444 (Wolkan, Ep. 162 ; Voigt, Ep. 130).
2 He left Rome on his return journey 1
April 1445 (cf. Wolkan. Ep. 169).
3 Fea, p. 88.
da Noceto, Giovanni
Campisio, and a host of other friends welcomed him with open arms, while two
Cardinals were appointed to absolve him from the ecclesiastical censures incurred
at Basel, as a prelude to his admission into the Pope’s presence. Finally, at
the feet of Pope Eugenius, the newly restored penitent made his apologia. “
Holy Father, before I expound my mission from the Emperor, I will say a few
words about myself. I know that much evil has come to your ears concerning me,
and those who censured me spoke the truth. I do not deny all that I spoke,
wrote, and did at Basel, although my mind was not set on injuring you but on
the service of the Church. I erred, and no one can deny it, but my companions
in error were many and famous. I followed Cardinal Cesarini, the Archbishop of
Palermo, and the apostolic notary Lodovico Pontano, lights of the legal
profession and teachers of the truth, not to mention the Universities and
schools in all parts of the world who pronounced judgment against you. In such
company who would not have erred ? When I discovered the error of Basel, I
confess that I did not flee to you at once. Fearful of falling from Scylla into
Charybdis, I betook myself to the neutral party, in order not to go from one
extreme to the other without mature deliberation. I remained with the Emperor
for three years, and the disputes which I heard between your Legates and those
of the Council convinced me that truth was on your side. Therefore, when the
Emperor bade me present myself before your Holiness, I obeyed willingly, hoping
that thus I might regain your favour. To-day I stand in your presence, and
plead forgiveness because I sinned in ignorance. And now I will turn to the
affairs of the Emperor.” 1
Eugenius received his
penitent graciously. “ We know that you erred with many,” he replied, “ and to
those who confess their faults we cannot refuse pardon. The Church is a loving
mother, who remembers the unacknowledged 1 Commentarii, lib. i. p.
io.
sin but forgets that
which is freely confessed. Now that you hold the truth, take care never to let
it go, and strive by good works to merit Divine favour. You live in a land
where you may champion the truth and serve the Church. We will not remember former
injuries, and from henceforth we will love you well if you walk well.” 1
It is obvious that /Eneas was thoroughly enjoying himself. The dramatic
character of his interview pleased his artistic instincts, and his confession
was near enough to the truth for him to believe it absolutely, in the
enthusiasm of the moment. He left the Pope’s presence ready to make the most of
the precious days in Rome, and to throw himself into the pleasant festivities
which friends and patrons were preparing in his honour.
Amid the general
cordiality which marked his reception he met with one rebuff. One day, at the
house of Cardinal Scarampo, he chanced to see his old acquaintance Tom- maso
Parentucelli, once steward of Cardinal Albergata’s household and now Bishop of
Bologna. The relations between steward and secretary had probably been
strained at times, but /Eneas was never inclined to bear malice, and he
advanced with outstretched hands to greet the Bishop. He, however, promptly
walked in another direction, and would make no response to /Eneas’s advances.
Thereupon our friend’s pride was stung, “ and he determined not to humiliate
himself again before a man who scorned him. Whenever he met Tommaso afterwards,
he gave him no salutation, and pretended not to see him, lest he should be
insulted afresh. But his mind was ignorant of the future,” adds this unblushing
opportunist; “ if /Eneas had known that he was dealing with a future Pope, he
would have suffered all things.” 2
From the
point of view of politics, the mission to Rome achieved its main object. Pope
and Emperor were completely reconciled, and within a year of our hero’s
interview with Eugenius iv the alliance was cemented in docu-
1 Commentarii,
lib. i. p. 10. 2 Fea, p. 89.
mentary form. iEneas
had not long been back in Germany when Cardinal Carvajal and Tommaso
Parentucelli arrived at the Imperial Court as Papal envoys. Their labours
throughout the summer bore fruit in the Papal Bulls of February 1446, in which
Eugenius granted to his new ally considerable rights of ecclesiastical
patronage in the Haps- burg dominions.1 He also agreed to pay him
221,000 ducats, and promised various other favours in the event of Frederick
ill’s coming to Italy to seek the Imperial Crown.2 Yet the fact that
the Pope had been able to buy the support of the Emperor did not by any means
involve the surrender of German neutrality. Frederick himself was definitely
committed to the side of Rome, but meanwhile the members of the Electoral
League had roused themselves to a tardy patriotism, and were working for the
summons of an " assembly of the German Church or a national Council ” to
deal with the ecclesiastical question as if it were still entirely open.3
To make matters worse, the Pope had practically refused to entertain the
proposal for a fresh Council made to him by /Eneas on the Emperor’s behalf.
This refusal, as iEneas himself recognised, undermined the sole basis on which
Emperor and Electors could unite. “ If my mission to Rome had ended
differently,” he wrote, shortly after his return, “ it would be far easier for
every one to act in unison. As it is, I see a great eagle being tom in pieces,
and I fear that there will be a plentiful fall of feathers.” 4 Four
months later he wrote in the same strain. “ The Emperor hates the neutrality
and would willingly renounce it, if the princes would agree. . . . But the
Germans, as you know, are not easily brought to a
1 The Bulls
are given in Chmel, Materialen zur osterreichischen Geschichte, i. Nos. 72—4. Cf. also
Voigt, vol. i. p. 347 ; and Creighton, vol. iii. pp. 72-4.
2 Cf. Gregorius Heimburg to the Archbishop
of Gran Prag, 3 July- 1466, for this information. The letter is given in Voigt,
vol. i. Appendix II.
3 Cf. Creighton, vol. iii. p. 71 ; and
Voigt, vol. i. p. 345.
4 tineas Silvius to Giovanni Campisio, 21
May 1445 (Wolkan, Ep. 170 ; also Voigt, Ep. 138).
conclusion, and once
having reached it they are still harder to move from it.” 1
As regards ^Eneas's
personal share in the negotiations, the next important stage was reached in the
spring of 1446, when the Emperor received what was practically the ultimatum of
the Electors on the ecclesiastical question. In February of this year Eugenius
felt himself strong enough to strike directly at his foes in Germany, and he
issued a Bull of deposition against two of the ecclesiastical Electors—the
Archbishops of Trier and Cologne. The cry of danger to Electoral privileges
stirred the League to prompt and united action. At a meeting at Frankfort2
the six Electors professed themselves ready to recognise Eugenius if he would
acknowledge the authority of General Councils, accept the reforming decrees of
Basel, withdraw all censures against the upholders of German neutrality, and
agree to the summons of a fresh Council to be held within the confines of the
Empire. If he refused their terms, they would declare for Felix v and endeavour
to end the schism in his favour. The Electors were anxious to secure the
co-operation of the Emperor, and at once sent an embassy to the Imperial Court
to expound their policy. Yet they made it clear that, if Frederick failed them,
they were prepared to act without him, and the Emperor was aghast at the
thought of the harm which might be done if Eugenius were taken by surprise and
returned a fiery answer to these uncompromising proposals. The Electoral
envoys had instructions to proceed straight to Rome after their interview with
Frederick, so that all the latter could do was to confide the whole matter to
/Eneas, and send him post-haste to Italy to give Eugenius a word of warning.
Parentucelli, the Papal Legate, was also advised to return to Rome immediately,
and these two somewhat ill-assorted travelling companions set out
1 ./Eneas Silvius to Giovanni Campisio,
Sept. 1445 (Wolkan, Ep. 185; also Voigt, Ep. 146).
1 Cf. Voigt, vol. i. p. 359 ; and
Creighton, vol. iii. p. 75.
together.1
In the mountains of Carinthia they found the streams swollen by the winter
snows, and their road barred by broken bridges. Some native guides conducted
them by another route, which added three days more to their journey, and as the
Electoral envoys had the advantage of a four days’ start in the race for Rome,
/Eneas and Parentucelli were in terror lest they should arrive too late. On
reaching Rome they learned to their joy that their rivals had arrived the night
before, and had not yet been received in audience by the Pope. Primed by
/Eneas, Parentucelli hastened to the Papal presence, and so explained the
situation that when the time came for Eugenius to receive the Germans, he
replied to their somewhat bellicose speeches “ with few and dignified words.” 2
The situation was
saved for the time being, and /Eneas had secured a diplomatic victory. He gave
expression to his triumph in depicting the discomfiture of the Germans, who
were kept waiting in Rome for three weeks, during the hot summer weather,
before they received a final answer from the Pope. Their principal spokesman
was one Gregorius Heimburg, an able lawyer and a keen patriot, destined both by
character and opinions to be the lifelong rival of /Eneas Silvius. “ In the
evening,” writes his malicious opponent, “ Gregorius might be seen pacing on
Monte Giordano, gesticulating wildly, sweltering with heat, head and chest
bare, his cloak on the ground. He seemed to have no respect for the Romans or
for his office, and did not hesitate to curse Rome, Eugenius, and the Curia,
while he called down many imprecations on the heat.” 3 Nowhere is
the conflict between the two races—Latin and
1 They had made up their quarrel before
/Eneas left Rome (cf. Com- mentarii, lib. i. p. 10), but their relations were
never cordial.
2 .Eneas Silvius, Hist. Frid. Ill (Kollar,
p. 123). Cf. also Commentarii, p. 11 ; and Fea, p. 91. Frederick in could not
betray the plans of the Electors to the Papal Legate, but ^Eneas admits that
Parentucelli “ guessed and opined much.”
2 Hist. Frid. Ill (Kollar, p. 124).
Teutonic—more
strikingly illustrated than in the encounters between /Eneas and this sturdy
champion of German nationality. “ Gregorius was handsome, tall and cheerful in
appearance, with bright eyes and a bald head. But his speech and his gestures
lacked restraint, he deferred to none in his judgment, and was peculiar in his
habits, preferring liberty in all things ; he was uncultivated and was not
ashamed of his ignorance.”1 The description is a finished sketch of
Heimburg’s character, and it expresses an Italian’s contempt for one who was
conspicuously lacking in all that he understood by the word civiltd. What
chances had this blundering individualist against the quick wits and eminently
social qualities of iEneas ?
In the end Gregorius
and his companions left Rome with the promise that Eugenius would send his
answer to the Diet which was about to meet at Frankfort. Meanwhile, iEneas was
received in private audience by the Pope and treated with marked favour. He
then set out with Parentucelli on the return journey, with hardly more time to
spare than on the way to Rome, if they were to reach Frankfort for the opening
of the Diet on i September. When the travellers arrived at Parma, after
crossing the Apennines on foot and spending a sleepless night in a peasant’s
hut, Parentucelli fell ill with fever, and /Eneas was obliged to leave him
behind while he hastened on with the Papal letters. He travelled by way of the
Brenner and contrived to enjoy a day’s hunting with Sigismund of Tyrol before
he joined Chancellor Schlick, and entered Frankfort in his company as the Diet
was assembling.2
The Diet of Frankfort
is chiefly remarkable for a discreditable, although highly successful, episode
in /Eneas’s diplomatic career. At the opening of the proceedings matters seemed
to be at a dead-lock. On the one side was Eugenius’s answer to the Electors,
which, as every one
1 Hist.
Fnd. Ill (Kollar, p. 123).
2 Commentarii, lib. i. pp. 11-2
; and Fea, p. 94. ■
realised, made no
real concessions ; and the chief representative of the Papacy was the
scrupulous and uncompromising Cardinal Carvajal, who “ always promised less
than he intended to perform and wanted more than could be obtained.” 1
On the other side were the princes, goaded to exasperation by Heimburg’s
account of his experiences in Rome, and ready to declare for Felix v at the
first opportunity. Out of these irreconcilable elements the ingenuity of /Eneas
contrived to fashion a compromise. The Diet, which began so badly, sealed the
fate of German neutrality, and secured the final victory of Rome. /Eneas’s
first move was to break up the Electoral League, by the simple expedient of
bribing the Archbishop of Mainz to accept the Pope’s answer as the basis of a
peaceful settlement. “ At length,” he writes, “ it was necessary to have
recourse to gold, to which ears are seldom deaf. Gold is the master of Courts,
it rules all things, and it conquered the Archbishop.” 2 The
traditional friendship between the houses of Hohenzollern and Hapsburg made it
comparatively easy to secure the Elector of Brandenburg, and with two Electors
won over, it was only necessary to provide them with some excuse for their
change of front. Taking the ultimatum of the Electors, /Eneas sat up all one
night and “ squeezed out the poison which Eugenius abhorred, so extending the
meaning that provision was made for the needs of the nation and for the
restoration of the Archbishops.” 3 The true cleverness of this “
noble deed,” as its author calls it, lay in the way in which /Eneas contrived
to use his double role of Imperial secretary and Papal agent to give authority
to his handiwork. The Papal Legates regarded him as the spokesman of the
Empire, offering terms which Eugenius would be free to modify, while the
Electors gained the impression that the new edition of their ultimatum rested
upon the authority
1 Fea, p. 99. Cf. also Hist. Frid. Ill, p.
128.
2 Hist. Frid. Ill, p. 127.
3 Commentarii, lib. i. p. 12. Cf. also
Hist. Frid. Ill, p. 128.
of the Pope. Great
was the surprise and anger of the envoys from Basel on learning that the
compromise was accepted by all parties in the Diet, and that if Eugenius
sanctioned the new terms, he would receive the obedience of Germany. “ Why
should this Sienese fellow come from Tuscany to give laws to the Germans ? ”
asked John of Lysura. “ It is better to have good laws from strangers than bad
laws from natives,” was /Eneas’s prompt reply.1
All that remained to
be done was to submit the conclusions of the Diet of Frankfort to the Pope,
and in November 1446 /Eneas started for Rome, for the third time within two
years. He was now no longer the secret agent, but the Imperial representative,
first among the crowd of envoys from Electors and princes sent to Rome on this
momentous occasion. The whole embassy numbered some sixty horsemen, and they
entered Rome in state, escorted by the officials of the Curia, who had come out
to meet them.2 On 12 January 1447, Eugenius received the Germans in
a secret Consistory, and /Eneas expounded to him the Frankfort articles. From a
letter of the Abbot of San Galgano to the Republic of Siena we learn that “
Messer Enea Piccolomini, poet and orator,” won much praise for the able and
eloquent manner in which he brought forward proposals which were “ in
themselves hateful and displeasing.” 3 In spite of /Eneas’s
manipulation, the terms of reconciliation were by no means acceptable to the
Papacy. Carvajal, Parentucelli, and others who knew something of the situation
in Germany, did their utmost in the cause of peace, but extremists such as
Torquemada were opposed to any concession, and the question was hotly debated
in Rome. The Abbot of San Galgano probably expresses the general opinion when
he writes : “ They (the Germans)
1 Fea, p. 103. Cf. Commentarii, lib. i. p.
12, where /Eneas states that he made no reply for fear of increasing Lysura’s
anger.
s Cf.
/Eneas Silvius to Frederick hi (Muratori, Her. Ital. Script., vol. iii. pt. 2,
pp. 878-98).
3 Pastor, History of the Popes, vol. i. p.
403.
demand in brief four
things, each more exorbitant than the others, and hateful both to the Holy
Father and to the Cardinals. Nevertheless, owing to the evil times, it will be
necessary to concede them in substance, in order to avoid the greater dangers
and scandals which would arise if they were refused.” 1
This same spirit of
grudging acquiescence inspires the Bulls which finally issued from the Papal
Chancery.2 The Electors demanded the summons of a fresh Council at a
fixed date and place; the Pope replied by a personal promise that a Council
should be held in Germany if princes and people agreed. The recognition of the
authority of General Councils was couched in the vaguest terms, no mention
being made of the Council of Basel. Instead of annulling the censures against
German ecclesiastics, the Pope agreed to restore the Archbishops of Trier and
Cologne to their sees. Instead of accepting the reforming decrees of Basel, he
promised to send a Legate to frame a Concordat with the German Church. Thus, on
each of the four main points at issue, the result of the year’s negotiations
was the same. Rome had conceded just enough to make the restoration of
obedience possible without loss of dignity to Germany, but the real advantage
in every case lay on the side of the Pope.
In the midst of the
negotiations Eugenius iv had fallen seriously ill, and the ceremony of the
restoration of German obedience was made at the bedside of a dying Pope. On 7
February the Germans assembled in the Pope’s presence, and .-Eneas spoke the
following words in the name of the whole company: “ As your Holiness has
vouchsafed to accede to our requests, we proffer you obedience. By virtue of
the authority committed to us, we lay aside the neutrality, and recognise you
as Roman, Catholic, and
1 Pastor, History of the Popes, vol. i. p.
403.
2 Raynaldus, Annales Ecclesiastici, 1447,
Nos. 5-7. No. 7 is a secret protest from Eugenius iv to the effect that
sickness prevented him from giving due consideration to these concessions, and
that, in making them, he had no intention of derogating from the authority and
privileges of the Papacy.
undoubted Pope.” 1
“Ye have done well,” Eugenius answered in a weak voice, and handing the Bulls
to ZEneas, he dismissed the embassy with his blessing. The successful issue of
the negotiations was at once proclaimed in a public Consistory, and “ great
thanks were rendered to God who had reunited the Church when it was weak and
divided, and had brought the bark of S. Peter into a quiet haven, when it
seemed about to succumb to the violence of the storm.” 2
So far as it can be
ascribed to any one man, this remarkable political achievement was the work of
/Eneas. But for him the negotiations must have broken down at every point. But for
him the gulf which separated Germany and Rome could hardly have been bridged.
Much can be said in criticism of his methods, although it must be remembered
that /Eneas himself provides the material for such criticism, and probably
there are few diplomatists who would care to record their share in the
manipulation of a crisis with quite the same frankness. As regards the issue of
his labours, it was the best, if not the only solution possible. So long as
Germany remained, not a nation, but an aggregate of separatist interests, she
could not be a centre of unity either in Church or State. Politically she must
be held together by the faltering hand of the Emperor; ecclesiastically she
could only unite under the stepmotherly guardianship of the Pope.
1 Fea, p.
104. 2 Hist. Frid. Ill,
p. 132.
HE years which /Eneas
spent in manipulating
the threads of
European diplomacy were no less
important for the
change which they wrought in his private life. When he first came to Germany
his morals and habits were of the lowest order. To this period belong such
unedifying productions as the famous letter to his father, telling him of the
existence of an illegitimate son, bom of an Englishwoman named Elizabeth whom
he had met at Strassburg in the spring of 1442, and whose knowledge of Italian
had given him the rare delight of hearing himself greeted in the Tuscan tongue.
“It is a great pleasure to me that my seed should bear fruit,” writes the
shameless culprit, “ and that something of me should survive when I die. I
thank God that a little /Eneas will play round you and my mother, and be a comfort
to his grandparents in his father’s stead.” 1 When the Emperor’s
young ward, Sigismund of Tyrol, wanted an elegant love-letter to send to his
mistress, he applied to /Eneas as to a recognised authority on such matters. “
Some perhaps would have denied your request,” replied the man of nearly forty
to the boy of sixteen, “ but I am prepared to grant it. He who does not love in
youth does so in old age, when he makes himself ridiculous, and becomes
1 /Eneas Silvius to Silvio Piccolomini, 20
Sept. 1443 (Wolkan, Ep. 78 ; Opera, Ep. 15, and elsewhere). Another
illegitimate child was born to /Eneas in Scotland, but both children appear to
have died in infancy. Cf. /Eneas Silvius to Silvio Piccolomini, 19 Nov. 1444
(Wolkan, Ep. 162 ; Voigt, Ep. 130).
a subject of gossip
among the vulgar.” 1 The following year saw the production of
/Eneas’s novel Eurialus et Lucretia—a love-story of a coarse and passionate
type, for which Pius 11 felt himself bound to apologise in later life.2
His letters to his intimates at this time are by no means pleasant reading.
They abound in allusions to Venus and Bacchus, the twin deities of the
loose-liver, and on every page there is some coarse jest or vulgar innuendo. In
short, /Eneas at this period stood for all that was worst in humanism. He was
frivolous, profligate, pagan, and apparently without vestige of shame or
reticence. Nevertheless, in one respect he rose above the standard of his
associates. In an age when clerical immorality was rife, he steadily refused to
be ordained until he had forsaken his dissolute habits. “ As yet I have avoided
taking holy orders,” he wrote to Piero da Noceto in 1444, “ for I fear chastity
; although a praiseworthy virtue, it is easier in word than in deed, and it
becomes philosophers rather than poets.” 3 So /Eneas remained a
layman, until his hot blood had cooled and the wiles of Venus had ceased to
charm him.
Ere long, as public
life grew more absorbing, his letters assume a new tone. There was a refined
and serious side to his complex personality which must always have despised his
vices, and now, under the beneficent influence of success, his better nature
triumphed. One of the earliest signs of a less frivolous attitude towards life
is a letter to a Bohemian friend making inquiries about the purchase of a
Bible. He had heard that Bibles were to be had comparatively cheaply in Prag,
and he was anxious to buy a copy containing both Testaments in one volume. “ I
am getting old,” he wrote, “ and worldly learning no longer becomes or delights
me. I wish to steep myself in the Gospels and to drink that water of which he
that drinketh shall never
1 iEneas Silvius to Duke Sigismund, 13
Dec. 1443 (Wolkan, Ep. 104 ; Opera, Ep. 122, etc.).
2 Wolkan, Ep. 152 (3 July 1444), for
Eurialus et Lucretia; Opera, Ep. 395, for Pius ii’s apology.
3 18 Feb. 1444 (Wolkan, Ep. 125 ; Opera,
Ep. 50, etc.).
taste death. ... I
care little for the pleasures of this world, and I only desire to serve God.
Yet as I am a lover of letters, I do not know how I can please God better than
in literary work ; and as the Bible contains the first principles of sacred
learning I wish to possess a copy.” 1 In March 1446 the decisive
step was taken, and /Eneas was ordained deacon in Vienna. “ He must be a
miserable and graceless man who does not in the end return to his better self,
enter into his own heart and amend his life, who does not consider the world to
come. Alas ! I have done evil enough, nay more than enough. But I have come to
myself. Oh, that it may not be too late ! ” 2 So wrote our hero to
a German friend in telling him of his ordination. It cannot be said that any
radical change took place in his nature,—Eneas remained /Eneas to the last,
even under the Papal vestments of Pius,—but from that time forward his outward life
was transformed. He ceased to make use of his title of “ poet,” and began to
interest himself mainly in philosophical and historical studies. As far as
morals were concerned he lived a blameless life, no word was ever breathed
against his character.
Some doubt exists as
to the actual date of /Eneas’s ordination as priest,3 but he was
certainly in full orders when he tendered the obedience of Germany to Eugenius
iv in February 1447. Now that the negotiations were satisfactorily concluded
he could look for some substantial reward for his services, and there were
powerful friends who were ready to recommend him for the next vacant bishopric.
For the moment, however, all thoughts were concentrated upon the death-bed of
Eugenius iv. The old Pope was growing rapidly worse, and it seemed as if each
day must be his last. Rome was in a state of suspense. The merchants were
taking their more valuable goods out
1 /Eneas Silvius to Johann Tuschek, 31
Oct. 1444 (Wolkan, Ep. 159 ; Voigt, Ep. 127).
2 .^Eneas Silvius to Johann Vrunt, 8 March
1446 (Opera, Ep. 92).
’ Voigt (vol. i. p.
367) says that he was ordained in Rome in July 1446, Cf., however, Wolkan, i.
p. xxv.
of the city, the
streets were infested by robbers, and, outside the walls, the presence of
Alfonso of Naples with a strong force threatened the freedom of the approaching
Conclave. Meanwhile the intrepid Pope, who had fought so long and so stubbornly
with his many foes, was making a gallant fight with death. When the Archbishop
of Florence wished to administer extreme unction, Eugenius bade him stay his
hand. “You think that I do not know my time,” he said, “ but I am still strong
; when the hour is come I will send for you.” 1 But the enemy could
not be kept at bay, and on 23 February the end came. In a letter to Frederick
in, /Eneas tells the story of Eugenius’s last hours, and gives his final
verdict upon the man whom he had judged from very different standpoints in the
course of the last sixteen years. Eugenius iv, he says in conclusion, summoned
a General Council and also dissolved it. He was deposed by the Council of Basel
and “ himself deposed the deposers.” He lost the obedience of Germany and then
recovered it. He was a prisoner in Rome, was forced to fly from the city, and
eventually returned thither in triumph. “ It would be hard to find a Pope who
has experienced as much adversity and, at the same time, as much prosperity. .
. . His worst faults were that he had no moderation, and that in all his
endeavours he thought only of what he desired, and not of what he could
accomplish.” 2
/Eneas remained in
Rome for the funeral of Eugenius iv, and for the election and coronation of his
successor. He and other members of the German embassy were made doorkeepers of
the Conclave, an office which must have reminded ZEneas of his share in the
election of the antiPope seven years before. The same spirit—critical, half-
mocking, and wholly detached—in which he described the proceedings at Basel
inspires his account of the Roman
1 /Eneas Silvius to the Emperor Frederick
in (Muratori, Rer. Ital. Script., vol. iii. pt. 2, pp. 878-98).
2 /Eneas Silvius
to Frederick in (Muratori, iii. pt. 2, p. 890). ,
Conclave. “ Amid
these events,” he observes, “ there were two ceremonies which provoked
laughter.” The first was the daily procession of boxes containing food for the
Cardinals immured within the convent of S. Maria sopra Minerva. Each Cardinal
had his separate box, and this was followed by the members of his household and
other dependents, so trained to the habit of adulation that, in the absence of
the Cardinal himself, they actually did reverence to the box which held his
dinner. The other piece of ritual which called forth our hero’s scorn took
place round the funeral pyre of Eugenius, where, in mid-winter, “ four clad in
mournful garments fanned away the flies that did not exist, and made breezes
for the Pope who was not present.” Our practically-minded friend condemned one
rite as superstitious and the other as childish. “ But,” he adds, “ some
allowance must be made for custom.” 1
Popular opinion had
fixed upon the rich and powerful Prospero Colonna as the next Pope, but, as
/Eneas remarked, quoting a well-known Roman proverb, “ He who enters the
Conclave a Pope comes out a Cardinal.” 2 After some abortive
scrutinies, the necessary majority of two-thirds was obtained by Tommaso
Parentucelli, Bishop of Bologna. Nicholas v, as the new Pope called himself, in
remembrance of his patron Niccolo Albergata, had little save learning to
commend him for his high office. He sprang from an obscure family at Sarzana,
and could not even produce a coat-of-arms to quarter with the crossed keys of
the Papacy. His election was, in fact, a triumph of humanism. Hard work and a
good education had enabled him to compete successfully with rank and wealth,
just because the age had recognised that in politics, as in every other sphere,
knowledge implied power. /Eneas must have viewed the election of his colleague
with mixed feelings. On the one hand, it could not fail to act as a spur to his
own ambition.
1 Mura
tori, iii. pt. 2, p. 892.
2 Ibid., p.
893 : “ Exire Cardinalem qui Pontifex intrat Conclave.’*
A prize which could
be won by Tommaso Parentucelli must also be within the reach of /Eneas Silvius
Piccolomini. Yet, on the other hand, he knew that Nicholas v did not approve of
him and that he could not hope to be among his favourites. As a matter of fact,
/Eneas was among the first to receive preferment from the new Pope. Whatever
were his personal feelings, Nicholas recognised that /Eneas had rendered
valuable services to the Papacy, and he did not intend him to go unrewarded.
One of the earliest acts of his pontificate was to confirm Eugenius iv’s
agreement with Germany, and when the Bishop of Trieste died, shortly
afterwards, Pope and Emperor sealed their alliance by both nominating /Eneas to
the vacant see. Our hero was never entirely happy as a courtier, and for some
time past he had longed for a means of escape from his wearing, precarious existence.
“ I am already in the afternoon of life,” he wrote in 1443, “ and I shall not
always be able to run hither and thither. The time will come when I must rest.
Would that I had a place where I could rest honourably ! ” 1 At
last he had obtained what he desired. His diocese provided him with a sure
haven where he could “ serve God and live his own life,” far from the storms of
courts and politics.
The three years which
followed /Eneas’s appointment to Trieste were of the nature of an interlude,
not without incident or interest, but standing apart from the main current of
his career. This was chiefly owing to the disgrace of his patron, Chancellor
Schlick, which brought all members of the official party at Vienna under a
cloud, and left the rival faction, headed by the Emperor’s favourites among the
Styrian nobility, in possession of the field. Under these circumstances /Eneas
was glad to escape from the Court, where his star was no longer in the
ascendant, and to bury himself in his diocese, dividing his time between study
and episcopal duties. Thus his share in the final
1 /Eneas Silvius to Kaspar Schlick, 28
Dec. 1443 (Wolkan, Ep. 108 ; Opera, Ep. 54, etc.).
stages of the
ecclesiastical settlement was small in comparison with his former activity. In
his retreat at Trieste he heard of the signing of the Concordat of Vienna
(February 1448), embodying the terms of alliance between the Papacy and the
German Church, and of the extinction of the wan ghost which had once been the
Council of Basel. At first Felix v was inclined to be obstinate, and spoke of “
a certain Tommaso Calandrini of Sarzana, whom some call Nicholas v”;1
but ere long Nicholas’s conciliatory policy triumphed, and in April 1449 Felix
resigned his claims to the Papacy, receiving in exchange a Cardinal’s hat.
Meanwhile the little company of Fathers went through the forms of electing
Nicholas v and of decreeing the dissolution of the Council. John of Segovia
retired to a Spanish bishopric and devoted himself to Oriental studies. Louis
d’Allemand spent the brief remainder of his life in his diocese of Arles,
immersed in good works and venerated for his holiness. “ So, by means of the
Emperor Frederick, and by the wisdom of Nicholas, the disease of the schism was
brought to an end.” 2
Schlick’s fall placed
/Eneas in a difficult position at the Imperial Court, but it did not deprive
him of the Emperor’s confidence. Frederick valued his Sienese secretary for his
own sake, especially as an instrument for dealing with Italian affairs, and the
monotony of life at Trieste was broken by various diplomatic missions,3
of which the most important are /Eneas’s two visits to Milan in 1447 and 1449.
In August 1447, Filippo Maria Visconti died without male heirs, and /Eneas was
sent to claim Milan as a lapsed fief of the Empire. He thus became an actor in
the complicated drama which ended in the failure of Milan’s last attempt at
self-government, and the triumph of the house of Sforza.4 When he
arrived in Milan a Republic had
1 Mansi, Concilia, xxxi. 188 (Bull of Felix v to Charles vn of
France).
2 Fea, p. 114. 3 Cf. Commentavii, lib. i. p. 14.
4 Cf. Commentarii, lib, i. pp. 14-6; also Fea, pp. 110-3 ; and
Hist. Frid. Ill pp. 139—63.
already been
established, but the citizens, knowing how sorely they needed protection, were
ready to recognise the suzerainty of the Emperor, if this could be done without
sacrifice of their new-born autonomy. With characteristic perspicacity, ZEneas
at once grasped the situation, and he was anxious to accept the obedience of
the Republic, which would give the Emperor at least a foothold in Milan, and
would leave the way open for a further assertion of his authority in the
future. But the other members of the embassy would be content with nothing
short of full possession, and “ by wanting too much they lost all.” The
Imperial envoys departed without having come to terms, and the infant Republic
was left to carry on an unequal struggle against the arms of Venice, internal
dissension, and the ambitions of her great condottiere, Francesco Sforza. When
ZEneas returned to Milan, two years later, the struggle was well-nigh ended.
Francesco Sforza was besieging the city, and all the country round lay in the
grip of his armies. He who was about to become Duke of Milan wished to avoid
the risk of the prey being tom from his grasp by preventing the Imperial
envoys from entering the city. Thus all roads to Milan were guarded, and it was
only by means of night-joumcys on unfrequented ways that ZEneas and his
companions contrived to reach their destination. Within Milan all was
confusion. The Republic had entered upon its death-agony, and its leaders were
ready to promise anything that might bring relief from the siege and aid
against Sforza. Thus ZEneas was charged with highly favourable terms to submit
to the Emperor, but the disaffection was such that the magistrates did not
dare permit him to address the citizens in a public assembly. Before he left
Milan he received a nocturnal visit from one of the chief officers of the
Republic,1 who offered to secure the submission of the city to
Frederick ill without further negotiation, by the simple expedient of creating
a popular rising
1 Carlo
Gonzaga, the Captain of the People, who not long afterwards deserted to Sforza.
in his favour. “ This
plan, although likely to succeed, seemed hazardous to /Eneas ; granted that it
would be a great and memorable exploit, he saw that it could not be
accomplished without danger, and that it by no means became his priestly
office.” 1 Somewhat reluctantly, it may be, he chose the path of
prudence, and declined to entertain the proposal. He then went with letters of
safe- conduct to Sforza’s camp, in order to ascertain the victorious captain’s
attitude towards the Empire in the event of his becoming master of Milan.
Soldier-like, Francesco Sforza was chiefly interested in hearing how the
Imperial envoys had contrived to penetrate through his lines and enter Milan.
/Eneas, however, was deeply impressed by his force and ability, and the
acquaintance which began between the ambassador and the soldier of fortune in
the camp outside Milan, ripened into a firm friendship between Pope and Duke.
When in February 1450 Milan opened her gates to Sforza, /Eneas hailed his
triumph as a well- earned success. “ I deem him a true Duke,” he writes, “ who,
as the leader of an army, has waged many successful wars, rather than him who
is born of a ducal father and who leads a life of ease and luxury.” 2
/Eneas’s pastoral
experience before he became a Bishop was not extensive, but he had been in
possession of at least two benefices, and he has left evidence of some slight
effort to play his part by the people committed to his charge. In 1443 the
Emperor presented him with a cure in the Sarantana valley, near Botzen, and his
clever sketch of the remote Tyrolese parish is clearly based on personal
knowledge.3 There was only one way of approach to the valley, he
tells us, and that was steep and difficult. For three-parts of the year the
place was snow-bound, and the inhabitants were confined to their houses, where
they employed themselves in carving boxes and other articles to
1 Commentarii,
lib. i. p. 16. 2 Fea,
p. 113.
3 Commentarii,
lib. i. p. 9. Cf. also jEneas to Kaspar Schlick, 28 Dec. 1443 (Wolkan, Ep. 108
; Opera, Ep. 54, etc.).
sell at Botzen or
Trent. If anybody living at a distance from the church died during the winter,
the corpse was placed out in the snow and so preserved until the spring, when
the priest went round the parish collecting the dead and performing the funeral
rites. Games of chess and dice were the principal forms of recreation, and at
these the peasants showed remarkable skill: their flocks were their chief
source of wealth, and also of food and drink; many had never tasted wine. No
fear of war ever troubled them, no thirst for riches or honours disturbed their
peace. They would have been the happiest of mortals, thought their some-time
pastor, had they but realised their good fortune and bridled their passions.
About a year later,
/Eneas was presented to the living of Aspach in Bavaria by the Bishop of
Passau. He composed a sermon to mark his appointment in which he instructed
his parishioners in their duties (laying especial stress on that of paying
tithe promptly), and spoke of the responsibility which rested upon him for the
welfare of their souls. “ I will strive not only to make you better, but myself
also,” he concludes, “ so that we may enter eternal life together.” 1
However far he might fall short in practice, /Eneas could always be relied upon
to say the right thing suitably and attractively. It is characteristic of the
irregularities of the day that he should have held both these livings as a
layman. In the case of Aspach, however, objections were raised to his tenure, a
fact which is partly responsible for his decision to take orders in 1446.2
Of his sojourn at
Trieste he has left little but the bare record, yet it is not hard to picture
his life in the pleasant seaport, like himself subject to the Emperor, but in
all else Italian. There is no reason to suppose that he was greatly interested
in his episcopal duties, but it was part of his nature to take pleasure in
performing becomingly
1 Mansi,
Pii II Orationes, vol. i. p. 54.
2 Cf. jEneas to Campisio, 21 May 1445
(Wolkan, Ep. 170 ; Voigt, Ep. 138).
and well whatever
tasks fell to his lot, and he doubtless acquitted himself creditably in his new
position. For the rest, he found unfailing solace in his literary work.
Isolated as he was from cultivated society, he kept in touch with the world of
learning by means of his correspondence, and in 1447 he turned his attention to
collecting and editing his letters. The manuscript, with his own corrections
in the margin, is preserved in Rome,1 and forms one of the principal
sources of subsequent collections. He was acquainted with the leading scholars
of the day, and occasional letters passed between them ; but his two faithful
friends, Giovanni Campisio and Piero da Noceto, wrote to him constantly, and
his correspondence with them formed a connecting link with Italy throughout the
years of his exile. In the autumn of 1443 he was seized with a desire to obtain
Leonardo Aretino’s translation of the Politics of Aristotle, and a lengthy
correspondence on the subject ensued between himself and Campisio. “ I am glad that
you have found the books of the Politics in Aretino’s translation,” wrote
/Eneas ; “ I have decided to buy them, and if they are not to be had for a
smaller price than you name, I will send the money.” 2 Campisio
replies that his friend is showing himself “ less liberal than I could wish,”
in thus haggling over the price; if he possessed the book he would send it to
/Eneas as a gift, but he will do his utmost to make a good bargain, “ so that
you will have no cause to judge me an imprudent buyer.” 3 Later on
he reports that the book is not to be bought, but that he is having a copy
made, and the scribe is already half-way through his task. In the same letter
he records the death of the translator, the learned Aretino.4 “ I
rejoice that Poggio holds his place in Florence,” replies /Eneas, “ but
1 "
Chigi Collection,’’ Codex J, vi. 208. Cf. Wolkan, Die
Brief e, etc.
2 14 Oct. 1443 (Wolkan, Ep. 85 ; Opera,
Ep. 21, etc.).
3 13 Nov. 1443
(Wolkan, Ep. 95 ; Opera, Ep. 169, etc.).
4 8 April 1444 (Wolkan, Ep. 134; Opera,
Ep. 172, etc.). Leonardo Brnni (Aretino) died on 9 March. 1444, and was
succeeded by Poggio as Chancellor of Florence.
I should be better
pleased if that place were not vacant, and Etruria had not lost so great an
ornament.” 1 At last, in December 1445, /Eneas acknowledges the safe
receipt of the coveted volume, but even then he is disappointed to find that
one out of the eight books of Leonardo’s translation is missing.2
His efforts to procure a copy of the Bible from Prag were more successful, and
he wrote a warm letter of thanks to the friend who had procured it for him. “
The volume is easy to hold, and the price is less than might be expected for so
lengthy a manuscript. You have acted as a true friend and treated my business
as if it were your own.” 3
It is significant
that the few congenial spirits whom /Eneas found north of the Alps were, almost
all, of Slavonic and not of German origin. The friend who undertook the
purchase of the Bible was a certain Johannes Tuschek, secretary to the city of
Prag, and an early admirer of our hero’s literary talents. He wrote to inform
/Eneas of the reputation which the latter possessed in Bohemia, and begged that
he might be allowed to see any of his writings.4 Two other
Bohemians, Prokop von Rabstein and Wenzel von Bochow, were among /Eneas’s
intimates in the Imperial Chancery, and in 1444 the latter set himself to
collect and copy the letters of his gifted colleague.6 Among his
more exalted literary acquaintances were the Hungarian Archbishop, Dionys
Szech, and the cultured Pole, Zbigniew, Bishop of Cracow. Both these men valued
/Eneas as a humanist and reverenced the talents which Germany, as a whole,
failed to appreciate. Perhaps it was the sympathy which he met with among the
non-Teutonic peoples that made him take peculiar interest in the hope of
Hungary and Bohemia, young Ladislas Postumus, the grandson of the
1 25 June 1444 (Wolkan, Ep. 150; Opera,
Ep. 51, etc.).
a 1 Dec.
1445 (Wolkan, Ep. 198; Opera, Ep. 82, etc.).
3 iEneas to Tuschek, 20 Nov. 1445 (Wolkan,
Ep. 194 ; Opera, Ep. 85).
4 Cf. iEneas to Tuschek, 1 May 1444,
replying to the request (Wolkan, <, Ep. 138 ; Opera, Ep. 70).
6 Loc. cit.
; and Wolkan’s note, p. 317.
Emperor Sigismund. As
the son of Albert of Hapsburg, Ladislas was also the heir of Austria, and he
was brought up at the Imperial Court under the guardianship of his cousin,
Frederick in. In 1443, /Eneas wrote a description of Ladislas’s life and
surroundings to Archbishop Dionys, being certain that “ your reverence desires
nothing on earth as much as the boy’s welfare.” 1 Ladislas was,
then, not quite four years old, and the whole Court had fallen victim to his
charm and beauty. The sight of the high-spirited child, riding gaily about the
palace on his wooden horse, would be enough, thought /Eneas, to melt the heart
of the fiercest among his rebel subjects. Like all true humanists, /Eneas was
interested in education, and in 1450, during his retirement at Trieste, he
composed his treatise De Liberorum Educations, unfolding a scheme for the upbringing
of the ten-year-old Ladislas, after the approved methods of humanist educators.2
In 1448 the signing
of the Concordat of Vienna marked the conclusion of a long struggle, and gave
/Eneas an opportunity for reviewing the Conciliar movement as a whole. The
result was his History, De Rebus Basiliae Gestis Com- mentarius,3
our hero’s last word upon the much discussed theme of the Council of Basel.
Apart from these two works, the years at Trieste represented an interlude in
his literary no less than in his active career. The cycle of his political
tracts was completed by the publication, in 1446, of De ortu et autoritate
Romani Imperii,4 a work which is as unreservedly “ Papal ” and
orthodox as the Basel Dialogues were “ conciliar ” and revolutionary. His great
historical writings, such as the History of Frederick III and the History of
Bohemia, were not yet begun. It seems, indeed, as if .Eneas did not find quiet
and retirement as
1 ^Eneas to Dionys Szech, Archbishop of
Gran, 16 Sept. 1443 (Wolkan, Ep. 76 ; Opera, Ep. 13, etc.).
2 Opera, pp. 965—91. Cf. also Woodward,
Vittorino da Feltre and other Humanist Educators, containing an English
translation of De Liberorum Educatione.
3 Fea, pp. 31-115. 4 Goldast, Monarchiae, pt. 2, p. 1558.
attractive as he had
once pictured them. Inaction tried his spirited energies, and very soon he
became discontented and restless. The death of Chancellor Schlick, in July
1449, was a severe shock to him. He regarded his former master with gratitude
and affection, and the news of his death combined with the circumstances of
his own life at Trieste to deepen his depression. “ I am not yet fifty, and
already I have more friends among the dead than among the living,” he writes to
Cardinal Carvajal.1 His thoughts run upon the brevity of life, its
evils and its uncertainties, until they take shape in a vision of the other
world, in which he meets and talks with those whom he has known in former days.
He is walking, it
seems to him, in a dense beech-wood, and he sees a company of
distinguished-looking people sitting together and conversing gravely. Presently
a form detaches itself from the group. It is Kaspar Schlick, who Says, in reply
to ^Eneas’s questions, that he has come to a place where departed spirits make
expiation for their sins upon earth. The figure nearest to him is that of
Eugenius iv; hard by is his predecessor, Martin v. Schlick’s former masters,
the Emperors Sigismund and Albert, are both there, as are also Filippo Maria
Visconti, the Cardinal of Taranto, and a host of others who had played a
prominent part in ^Eneas’s world. Every day, Schlick told him, added to their
number, owing to the reckless ambition of princes and republics, who did not
hesitate to plunge whole nations into war for the sake of increasing their
territories. Faith and justice had returned to heaven, fraud and unrighteousness
reigned supreme on earth ; few praised virtue and none practised it : there
were sins enough to be purged at the approaching Jubilee, yet how many of the
pilgrims who flocked to Rome would go with a more serious purpose than that of
seeing the sights ? Here /Eneas cut short the Chancellor’s moralisings in order
to know whether he would find Cardinal Cesarini among the assembled company. “
He is not with us,” was the reply; “ from the 1 13 Nov. 1449 (Voigt,
Ep. 184, pp. 394-7)-
Hungarian
battle-field he took the direct path to heaven, where he now tastes the joys
prepared for those who witness for Christ with their life-blood.” Then the
vision faded and /Eneas was left alone and sad, “ desirous of knowing many
things,” and yet convinced of the essential truth of what had been revealed to
him. On this occasion, he assures Carvajal, the gate of his dream was made of
horn, and not of ivory.
In the year of
Jubilee, /Eneas was recalled to the Imperial Court, where important work
awaited him. The Emperor wished to wed Leonora of Portugal, the niece of
Alfonso, King of Naples, and, at the same time, he had determined to follow the
custom of his predecessors and to seek coronation at the hands of the Pope.
With these plans in view, he turned to the Bishop of Trieste as to his natural
link with Italy, and upon /Eneas devolved the entire organisation of the last
Imperial coronation which took place in Rome. He was sent to Italy as a
forerunner, to negotiate with the King of Naples, and to prepare the way in
Rome for the Emperor’s coming ; throughout the course of Frederick’s expedition
he acted as mediator between the Emperor and the Italians. The whole episode,
indeed, stands out upon the pages of history as a gorgeous and somewhat
antiquated pageant of which /Eneas was the highly efficient stage-manager.
/Eneas crossed the
Alps on his preliminary mission before the close of 1450, and on his way South
he stayed with his cousin Jacopo Tolomei, who was a judge at Ferrara. Tolomei
had some startling news to impart : his wife had just written from Siena to say
that the Bishop was dead and that /Eneas was appointed as his successor.1
Our hero hurried on to Siena, in a state of joyful anticipation, to find that
the news was true, and that he was about to become Bishop of his own city. His
advent was hailed with enthusiasm, and but for his prudent resolve to await
the receipt of the Papal letters, he would have been given 1
Commentarii, lib. 1. p. 17.
immediate possession
of the temporalities of the see. On his return from Rome, in January 1451, the
necessary formalities were completed, and /Eneas entered Siena in state,
beneath a gilded baldacchino, to be enthroned in the familiar Duomo amid the
plaudits of his fellow-citizens. Those of his admiring relations who had once
complained that a promising lawyer was wasting his time over newfangled
studies, were now obliged to acknowledge that he had chosen his profession
well. In the company of “ the poets and orators ” /Eneas had gone further than
he could ever have hoped to go if he had clung to the beaten paths of
Jurisprudence.
Meanwhile
his conduct of the Emperor’s business had been attended with success, both in
Naples and Rome. Leonora was willing to reject all other suitors for the sake
of being called Empress, and it was arranged that she should come to Italy in
time to take part in her bridegroom’s coronation. “ The title of Emperor,”
/Eneas sarcastically observes, “ is held in greater esteem abroad than at
home.” 1 In October 1451 he was back again in Italy in order to meet
Leonora when she landed. His reception in Siena contrasted strangely with the
enthusiastic welcome accorded to him earlier in the year. Then “ no one could
honour and praise /Eneas enough ; now he entered the city unwelcomed, no
procession came out to meet him, few people visited him at his palace, and he
heard that many spoke ill of him in the public places. But he bore it all
calmly, and laughed to himself at the fickleness of fortune.” 2 The
prospect of the Emperor’s visit had, in fact, reduced all Italy to a state of
nervous trepidation. Nicholas v wrote panic-stricken letters begging /Eneas to
come to Rome at once, and urging the postponement of the coronation. Siena
feared that /Eneas would use his influence with the Emperor to overthrow her
constitution and restore the nobility to power. The citizens eyed his smallest
action with suspicion, and when he allowed a
1 Hist. Frid. Ill, p. 169. 2 Commentarii, lib. i. p. 18.
German colleague,
Michael von Pfullendorf, to be buried in the Duomo, it was treated as an
unwarrantable usurpation of civic privileges. At last the situation in Siena grew
so unpleasant that /Eneas betook himself to Talamone, where Leonora was
expected to land. For sixty weary days he waited at the dull seaport, whiling
away the time, indefatigable sight-seer that he was, in visiting the places of
interest in the neighbourhood. He saw the rocky promontory of Monte
Argentario, and the deserted Etruscan town of Ansedonia, while the massive
fortifications of the ancient Portus Herculis filled him with amazement.1
The news that Leonora had landed at Leghorn cut short his expeditions, and he
hurried northward to meet the bride at Pisa, where she was committed to his
charge with all due formality by the Portuguese ambassador.2
Meanwhile the Emperor had arrived in Siena, and here, on 24 February 1452,
outside the Porta Camollia, where the memorial column stands to-day, the bridal
pair met and embraced. The meeting has been immortalised in the most gracious
of Pintoricchio’s frescoes, and it was a ceremony calculated to live long in
the annals of a pageant-loving people. A gorgeous procession went out to meet
the bride.3 At its head rode Albert of Austria, the Emperor’s
brother, resplendent in cloth of gold, and surrounded by a band of cavaliers “
singing beautiful and joyous songs ” ; next to him came the youthful Ladislas,
his long fair hair falling in graceful curls over his shoulders. The clergy and
magistrates of the city, the professors of the University, and four hundred
charming Sienese ladies swelled the throng. Last of all came the expectant
bridegroom mounted on a magnificent black charger, supported on either side by
the Papal Legates, and attended by a galaxy
1 Commentarii,
lib. i. p. 19.
2 Loc. cit.
Fifteen
days were wasted before this punctilious gentleman would consent to surrender
Leonora to anyone but the Emperor in person.
3 Cf. Commentarii,
lib. i. p. 20 ; also Fumi and Lisini, L’Incontro di Federico III con
Eleonora di Porto^allo, Siena, 1878.
/ENEAS SILVIUS
PRESENTS LEONORA OF PORTUGAL TO FREDERICK II
FRESCO BY
PINTORICCHIO Pi ccolontini Library, Stena
of richly attired
knights and barons. Presently a cry of joy announced the approach of Bishop
/Eneas with his precious charge. Frederick turned pale with anxiety, but as the
procession drew near, and he saw the youthful bloom and royal bearing of his
sixteen-year-old bride, “ his colour returned, and he rejoiced to find that his
spouse was even more beautiful than report had painted her.” 1
Leonora was dressed in cloth of gold surmounted by a richly brocaded mantle ;
she wore a little black fur hat, and her fair hair was visible beneath her
hood. She had bright dark eyes, a small mouth, and a brilliant complexion :
even so experienced a critic as /Eneas could find no fault in her appearance.
The sight of her charms roused Frederick from his habitual apathy ; springing
impulsively from his horse, he took her in his arms without further ceremony.
A week of gay doings
followed, in which the jealousies and suspicions of the past were completely
forgotten, ^neas tasted unalloyed joy in exhibiting the glories of his beloved
Siena to the admiring Germans, and, at the same time, giving proof to his
fellow-citizens of the favour which he enjoyed with the Emperor. The beauty and
accomplishments of the Sienese ladies were particularly gratifying to his
pride, and he does not fail to draw attention to the elegant oration delivered
by the young wife of one of the magistrates. This gifted lady instructed
Frederick and Leonora in their conjugal duties, " and spoke so wisely and
eloquently that her hearers were stupefied with admiration.” 2
Throughout the ensuing journey to Rome /Eneas’s star was in the ascendant. As
the cavalcade wound its
1 Hist. Frid. Ill, pp. 269-70.
2 Hist. Frid. Ill, p.
272 ; cf. also Malavolti, De‘ jatti e Guerre dei Sanesi, p. 38. The
learned lady, Battista Petrucci by name, was not without feminine vanity. The
Emperor was so much pleased with her oration that he offered to show her any
sign of favour that she might choose ; whereupon she asked, and obtained leave,
to wear the clothes and jewels of which the sumptuary laws forbade her to make
use (Malavolti, op. cit.).
way over the steep
slopes of Monte Cimino, the Emperor drew rein beside him, and said in
half-jesting prophecy, “ We are going to Rome. I seem to see you a Cardinal.
Nay, you will soar still higher to the Chair of S. Peter. Do not despise me
when you attain to that high honour.” 1 On 8 March the party came in
sight of the Eternal City, and /Eneas’s heart glowed with passionate pride of
race as the Emperor’s wondering gaze ranged over Hadrian’s Mole, the Baths of
Diocletian, the Pantheon, the Colosseum, the Capitol, and all the splendid
heritage of the past. “ Not in vain,” he exclaimed, “ does a man endure
hardship, if it is given him to see Rome, the chief of the nations, and the
capital of the world.” 2 Frederick spent the night outside the walls
of Rome, while /Eneas went on ahead to prepare the Pope for his arrival. He
visited Nicholas in bed, and discoursed to him at length of the Emperor’s
pacific disposition, assuring him that his fears were entirely misplaced. “ The
error of suspicion is less dangerous than the error of over-confidence,” 3
was the Pope’s grim reply. But here, as in Siena, the actual arrival of the
Emperor put an end to all alarms. Nicholas v received his guest, next day, in
the Portico of S. Peter’s, and this solemn meeting was the prelude to many
friendly interviews between the twin heads of Christendom. The coronation was
fixed for 19 March, the fifth anniversary of Nicholas’s coronation as Pope.
Tradition forbade an uncrowned Emperor to show himself in the city, but
Frederick “ found it tedious to remain at home,” 4 and insisted on
spending the ten days of waiting in seeing the sights. On 16 May his wedding
took place, and he was crowned with the iron crown of Lombardy as a preliminary
to his assumption of the golden crown of Empire. When the great day arrived,
Pope and Cardinals assembled before the high altar, while two pulpits were
erected for Frederick and Leonora at the entrance to the Choir. Proceedings
began with Frederick’s oath
1
Commentarii, lib. i. p. 20. 2
Hist. Frid. Ill, p. 275.
3 Commentarii, lib. i. p. 20. 4 Hist. Frid. Ill, pp. 281-2.
of obedience to the
Pope, taken, /Eneas tells us, " in the form used by Louis, the son of
Charles the Great.” 1 He was then made a canon of S. Peter’s, he
donned the Imperial tunic, mantle, and sandals, and was anointed with the
sacred oil. The Pope began Mass, and Frederick and Leonora returned to their
places until the time came for Frederick’s investiture with the Imperial
insignia, “ the sceptre which denotes kingly power, the orb which stands for
dominion of the world, and the sword which indicates rights of warfare.” 2
Finally, the magnificent jewelled crown was placed on his head, Leonora
received her crown, and Pope and Emperor walked hand in hand to the door of S.
Peter’s, whence they rode in procession to the ancient Basilica of S. Maria in
Cosmedin. On the bridge of S. Angelo, the Emperor dubbed three hundred knights,
and the day’s ceremonies terminated with a banquet at the Lateran, in which “ I
too,” says /Eneas, “ had a place at the Emperor’s table.” 3
Much as /Eneas
appreciated the splendid pageantry and historical significance of the scenes
which he witnessed, he was too clear-sighted not to realise their fundamental
unreality. Frederick had no power in Italy, and not a single assertion of
authority marked his visit. He received the Lombard crown in Rome, instead of
at Milan, or Monza, because Francesco Sforza was in possession of the Duchy,
and the Emperor did not wish to recognise a usurpation that he was powerless to
prevent. The same artificial reproduction of a vanished past showed itself in
the very details of the coronation ceremonies. The reputed insignia of Charles
the Great had been brought from Nurnberg for use on this occasion. “ When I
examined the sword,” reports our observant friend, “ I found that it belonged
not to the first Charles but to the fourth, for I saw the lion of Bohemia
engraved upon it.” i So, too, /Eneas deplores the fact that
the three hundred upon whom the Emperor
1 Hist.
Frid. Ill, p. 291. 2 Op. cit.,
pp. 291-2.
3 Op.
cit., p. 295. 4 Op.
cit., p. 292.
conferred knighthood
were chosen, not for their military valour, but for their ability to pay the
dues which would fill Frederick’s empty purse. “ If scholars, weak in body and
cowardly in spirit, are not ashamed to assume military honours, why should not
soldiers seek Doctors’ degrees ? ” he asks. But the rewards of scholarship were
being given on the same system, and the Emperor conferred the degree of Doctor
upon many men in Italy “ with whom gold took the place of learning.” 1
/Eneas’s real opinion with regard to Frederick iii
and his shadowy Empire is summed up in the allusion to the image of
Daniel’s vision with which he prefaces his account of the coronation. Once the
legs of iron were a fitting symbol of the strength and cohesion of the Roman
Empire. “ Alas ! to-day it is burdened with little of its former power. We have
come, it seems, to the era of the feet of clay.” 2
Frederick and Leonora
spent Easter at the Court of Naples, as the guests of King Alfonso, while
/Eneas remained in Rome in charge of the young King Ladislas. At this time
Austrians, Bohemians, and Hungarians were plotting to wrest Ladislas from
Frederick’s guardianship, and /Eneas’s responsibility was by no means light.
The news of a conspiracy came to the Pope’s ears ; he sent for /Eneas in the
dead of night, and warned him to keep strict watch over the boy’s apartments,
lest they should wake in the morning to find the bird flown. Thus the danger
was averted, but after this episode the Pope was so afraid of treachery that he
would not even allow Ladislas to go out hunting with the Cardinals.3
Ere long the Emperor returned, and, after a few farewell interviews and complimentary
speeches, the Imperial visit was at an end: Frederick started on his homeward
journey with /Eneas in his train. The party travelled by way of Venice, where
the Emperor spent his time in rambling about the city, disguised as a private
individual in order to be able to drive
1 Hist.
Frid. Ill, pp. 293-4. 2 Op.
ci(., pp. 288-9.
8 Op. cit.,
pp. 305-6.
was iotn to ena a
pleasant noiiaay ana to taKe up me again amid rebellious subjects and
troublesome Diets. /Eneas felt that he was returning to exile, without the
consolation of the Cardinal’s hat which he had hoped would come as the reward
of his activity.
1 Hist. Frid. Ill, p. 337.
AS the Emperor
crossed the frontier on his return to Germany, a terrific thunderstorm broke
upon the travellers. To /Eneas it seemed the foreboding of disaster, "
the end of Italian delights, and the beginning of German sorrows.” 1
Life north of the Alps had never been congenial to him, and with his advancing
years and failing health it was rapidly becoming intolerable. The Court was
seldom at Vienna for any length of time. Frederick’s favourite residence was at
Neustadt, a little country town thirty miles from the capital, where he could
spend his time in hunting and in the cultivation of his magnificent garden,
doing his best to live as if responsibilities of Empire did not exist. /Eneas
once wrote a charming description of Neustadt, of the stately palace set in the
midst of woods and vineyards, of the gardens rich in fruit and flowers, of the
good air and excellent hunting. " I do not wonder,” he declared, “ that
the Emperor takes pleasure in a place that abounds in all delights.”2
Nevertheless, he—and, indeed, the majority of Frederick’s courtiers—found Neustadt
insufferably dull; and Neustadt itself seemed a centre of life and civilisation
in comparison with Frederick’s other favourite resorts, the capitals of his
hereditary provinces— Styria, Carinthia, and Carniola. Even to the
1 Hist. Frid. Ill, p. 343.
2 ^Eneas Silvius to Giovanni Campisio, 8
June 1444 (Wolkan, Ep. 148; Voigt, Ep. 115).
Germans these remote
mountain districts appeared only half-civilised, and to /Eneas, life in the
comfortless, scantily equipped castle at Graz, S. Veit, or Laibach must have
stood for all that was rough and barbarous. In 1453 the Court spent practically
the whole summer at Graz. Although /Eneas could not fail to appreciate the
picturesque charm of his surroundings, the keen mountain air chilled his gouty
limbs, and he had neither the health nor the spirits to face discomfort with
his wonted serenity. “ I am afflicted and tormented not only in body but in
mind,” he wrote to Goro Lolli; “ for who is there with so iron a spirit that it
does not suffer when the body suffers ? . . . I, indeed, in spite of my
anguish, am not so distressed that I cannot call back my courage, and remember
that my pains must soon be ended either by recovery or death.” 1 He
was ill enough to look upon death almost in the light of a release, and in his
suffering and depression he longed more than ever to be back in Italy, among
old friends and familiar surroundings. “Day and night,” he cried, “I have the
sweet soil of my country before my eyes.” His thoughts flew, not to Campisio
and Piero da Noceto, the friends of his public life, but to his mother, Goro
Lolli, Mariano Sozzini, Giorgio Andrenzio, and other companions of his youth.
His dearest wish was to return to Siena; he had already asked leave of absence
from the Emperor, and intended to start as soon as he felt strong enough for
the journey.2 Before the end of the year he actually sent orders to
his Vicar in Siena to prepare the episcopal palace for his arrival; 3
but, for one cause and another, his departure was postponed, and it was not
until 1455 that he again crossed the Alps.
If /Eneas craved for
home, it may well be asked, why did he not sever his connection with the
Imperial Court, and take up his residence in Siena ? He himself supplies
1 Opera, Ep. 146, 3 Sept. 1453.
2 Opera, Ep. 146 ; cf. also Epp. 132, 133.
I36, T43. ete-
3 iEneas to his Vicar, 10 Dec. 1453
(Weiss, Ep. 91).
the answer. “ While I
remain with the Emperor,” he wrote, “ the Pope and the Cardinals still value me
a little. If I were in Siena they would cease -to remember me. . . . The Roman
Curia only pays respect to a man’s reputation, not to the man himself. ... If I
left the Imperial Court I should be dropped, for I should be of no further
use.”1 Our hero was a person of strong feelings, and his letters
were often made the vehicle of his emotions; but when it came to action, common
sense usually prevailed. His will was set upon becoming a Cardinal, and he knew
that he could never rest content until this purpose was accomplished ; misery
at Graz, with hope to sustain him, was more tolerable than a life of ease and
obscurity at Siena. So he lingered on at the Imperial Court, and meanwhile both
Frederick and Ladislas pressed his claims to the Cardinalate. In Rome his cause
was warmly championed by Piero da Noceto, who had also served under
Parentucelli, in the old days, in Albergata’s household, and had found favour
where /Eneas had only met with disapproval. Since the accession of Nicholas v,
Piero had risen to a high position in the Curia. As a layman, with a wife and
children, the surest path of advancement was closed to him, but he was treated
as the Pope’s confidential adviser, and had been among the three hundred who
received knighthood at the time of the Imperial coronation. “ Commend me to the
Holy Father, and take care that his goodwill towards me is increased rather
than diminished. I, meanwhile, will do the same for you with the Emperor, with
all diligence.”2 So wrote /Eneas to his faithful friend, and Piero
doubtless did his best. But Nicholas v was not to be moved. He carried his
prejudice so far as to determine that /Eneas should not be a Cardinal, and as
long as he lived the red hat hovered elusively upon our hero’s horizon.
In the meantime,
events in Germany were providing the would-be Cardinal with sufficient
occupation. Five
1 iEneas to Goro Lolli, i July 1453
(Weiss, Ep. 48).
2 Opera, Ep. 148, 18 Sept. 1453.
months after his
coronation the Emperor was besieged in his own palace at Neustadt by the
rebellious Austrians, and forced to buy their withdrawal by handing over Ladislas
to their charge. A determined effort to free Ladislas from his cousin’s
wardship was now in process, and a joint embassy from Austria, Bohemia, and
Hungary had already gone to Rome in order to protest against the Pope’s interference
on Frederick’s behalf.1 Nicholas, however, remained faithful to his
ally, and met the complaints of the three nations by an admonition to obey the
Emperor on pain of excommunication. In the hands of an active Emperor, the
Papal pronouncement might have proved an effective instrument, but under
existing circumstances it was simply disregarded. The University of Vienna
appealed from Nicholas v to a better instructed Pope, and the Austrians
gathered round Neustadt with the intention of carrying their point by force of
arms.
/Eneas did his best
to steer his Imperial master through this tangle of difficulties. He realised
that Ladislas could not be kept in tutelage indefinitely, and that, in the
absence of any military preparations, it was impossible for Neustadt to
withstand a siege. Therefore he urged the Emperor to avoid the indignity of a
defeat by doing at once what must be done sooner or later, and declaring his
wardship of Ladislas at an end.2 But less prudent counsels prevailed,
and the siege was continued until the Austrians bombarded the gates of Neustadt
from the vantage-ground of an adjacent mill, and so brought Frederick to his
knees. Ladislas was handed over to the Count of Cilly without further
negotiation, and the question of his future was left to be decided at the
approaching Diet of Vienna. Thither, in December 1452, went /Eneas, as the
chief representative of the Emperor. His clever speech, Adversus
1 Frederick had obtained the Pope’s
promise of support against the Austrians while he was in Rome, but unfortunately
he had disregarded Nicholas v’s warning. Cf. Hist. Frid. Ill, p. 287 : “ Tu
cave, ne dum spirituaha quaeris arma, materialia negligas.”
2 Hist. Frid. Ill, pp. 377-8.
Austriales,1 put the
case for both Pope and Emperor with irresistible logic ; but his eloquence was
as powerless as the Papal censures to counteract the fundamental weakness of
Frederick’s position. The Austrians realised that there was nothing to prevent
them from doing as they pleased, and they refused to sign the terms drawn up by
the Diet of Vienna. Until his death, in 1457, Ladislas was separated from his
former guardian, and Frederick lost such control as he possessed over Austria,
Bohemia, and Hungary.
To /Eneas the Diet of
Vienna, and everything connected with it, seemed a pitiable exhibition of
Imperial weakness. He describes, in the language of outraged decorum, how
Albert of Brandenburg left Vienna and bearded Frederick at Neustadt in order to
demand a personal hearing for his case against the city of Nurnberg. /Eneas was
doing business with the Emperor when this unmannerly gentleman burst into the
room and declared loudly that he cared nought for Pope or Emperor, but that he,
a prince of noble blood, wouldnotbe judged bymarshals andchamber- lains. “ This
is a common failing in princes,” remarks the courteous Italian; “ they are
brought up among inferiors who praise all that they say, and when they mix with
strangers and equals they storm and lose their temper if they are crossed.” 2
The majority of the princes followed hard upon Brandenburg’s heels to Neustadt,
and Frederick, who had stayed at home to avoid the Diet, found it established
in his own palace. It needed all /Eneas’s statecraft to prevent the Emperor
from being forced into an unjust pronouncement, under the menace of
Brandenburg’s anger. With this prince, as with the Austrians, might was right;
he had no respect for Imperial authority or for the decisions of the Diet. And
the year 1453 had already dawned; in a few months the capture of Constantinople
would fling out a challenge to the nations of Europe to unite in defence of
Christendom against the Turk. As
1 Mansi, Pius II Orattones, vol. i. p.
184.
2 Hist. Frid. Ill, p. 417.
far as Germany was
concerned, none knew better than /Eneas how faint was the prospect of an effective
response to the call.
The news of the fall
of Constantinople reached the Imperial Court at Graz. Even the phlegmatic
Emperor was moved to tears, and to /Eneas the disaster was quite overwhelming.
As a statesman, the establishment of the Turkish power at Constantinople made
him tremble for the fate of Europe, torn by national and civil strife. “Mahomet
now reigns among us,” he wrote; “already the Turkish sword is hanging over our
head. The Black Sea is closed to us . . . the Wallachians must obey the
infidel; soon the Hungarians and the Germans will share their fate.” 1
As an ecclesiastic, he felt that the whole Catholic Church had suffered
disgrace. He thought mournfully of S. Sophia, and of the other famous Basilicas
of Constantinople, which were either in ruins or polluted by infidel rites. It
seemed to him that the Eastern Church had received a blow from which she could
never recover. “ Of the two lights of Christendom, one has been put out.” Above
all, as a humanist he grieved for the loss of the priceless manuscripts which
must inevitably accompany the destruction of the centre of Grecian
civilisation. “ What can I say of the countless books, which are as yet unknown
to the Latin world ? ” he wrote to that other sorrowing scholar, Pope Nicholas v.
“ Alas ! how many names of famous men will perish. It is a second death to
Homer and to Plato. Where shall we find our poets and our philosophers ? The
fount of the Muses is stopped.” 2 In the face of so great a calamity
the only refuge lay in prompt action. All his powers of persuasion were thrown
into the passionate appeal to Nicholas v to take up his burden, and to rally
the forces of Europe for a Crusade against the Turk. “It is for you, Holy
Father, to arise, to address kings, to send legates, to exhort princes. . . .
Now, while
1 iEneas to Pope Nicholas v, 12 July 1453
{Opera, Ep. 162).
2 Op. cit.
the evil is recent,
let Christian States hasten to take counsel, to make peace with their
co-religionists, and to move with united forces against the enemies of the
saving Cross.” It must be allowed that /Eneas lived up to his precepts nobly.
For the two years that he remained in Germany he wrote letters and attended
Diets with untiring vigour, and, during the eleven years of life that were
still left to him, the suffering East was seldom absent from his thoughts. The
fall of Constantinople, a crisis in the history of Europe, was also a
turning-point in /Eneas’s career. From that day forward he never ceased to work
for the crusading cause, and death cut him off in the midst of his labours.
The months which
followed the fall of Constantinople were full of disappointment for those who
had fixed their hopes upon a Crusade. At first there seemed a fair prospect of
something being done. Nicholas v felt that the honour of the Papacy was at
stake, and was eager to wipe out the disgrace. By a Bull of 30 September 1453
he solemnly published a Crusade, and called on all Christian princes to take
part in the holy war.1 The Emperor summoned a European Congress to
meet at Regensburg in the spring of 1454, and this, with the preaching of Fra
Giovanni Capistrano, and the appearance of the Bishop of Pavia as a special
legate for the furtherance of the Crusade in Germany, created a respectable
appearance of activity. But the first flicker of enthusiasm died away almost as
soon as it arose. The Emperor’s zeal was not sufficient to overcome his
habitual repugnance to Diets, and he seized on the excuse of some local
disturbance in Styria to announce his inability to attend the Congress. “ He
decided, after the manner of men, to attend to his own affairs in person, and
to depute public business to the care of others,” 2 writes the indignant
/Eneas, after vainly endeavouring to rouse Frederick to a sense of his duty.
Meanwhile Nicholas v was a prey to misgivings of a similar
1 Raynaldus,
Annales Ecclesiastici, 1453, Nos. 9-12.
2 Commentarii,
lib. i. p. 22.
THE SULTAN MAHOMET II
PORTRAIT BY GENTILE
BELLINI - Layard Collection, Venice
kind. To him the
Congress of Regensburg was a General Council in embryo, therefore he refused to
join with Frederick in summoning the princes of Europe to attend; and beyond
sending his legate, he did nothing to promote its success. When Pope and
Emperor refused to subordinate their selfish fears to the welfare of
Christendom, little could be expected from men of lesser degree. /Eneas had a
specimen of the ardour of German princes when he halted on his way to
Regensburg in order to invite Louis of Bavaria to act as one of the Emperor’s
representatives at the Congress. The Duke of Bavaria was a tall, handsome
young man of twenty-eight, ready of speech, and most pleasant in manner—a
perfect prince, in /Eneas’s opinion, if only he had known Latin. He might have
added, "if he had possessed more of the crusading spirit.” Louis replied
to the Emperor’s request with a courteous refusal; and although he promised to
send representatives, it was clear that he did not contemplate attending the
Congress in person. “ Meanwhile, outside the castle, innumerable dogs were
barking, horses were chafing, and loud voices were heard swearing at the delay,
and cursing the Imperial envoys for spoiling the day’s hunting.” 1
The Duke invited /Eneas to join him, and on being refused, he mounted his
horse, and, “ surrounded by a joyous and youthful throng,” was soon lost
to sight in the forest.
The Congress of
Regensburg was saved from abject failure by the inspiring presence of the Duke
of Burgundy. This splendid prince, whom /Eneas had seen in the prime of his
manhood, twenty years before, at the Congress of Arras, was still strong and
vigorous for all his sixty years, and he had sworn, with solemn rites, that he
would never rest until the Turk was driven out of Europe. “ One prince,” wrote
/Eneas, " seems to me, above all others, worthy of praise—Philip, Duke of
Burgundy, who when he was bidden to a Congress summoned for the salvation
1 /Eneas
Silvius, Historia de Ratisponensi Dicta (Mansi, Pius II Orationes, vol. iii.
pp. 1-85)-
of Christian peoples,
refused to desert the common cause by sending an excuse.”1 Philip’s
father, John the Fearless, had been taken prisoner by the Turk at the
disastrous battle of Nicopolis, and the present Duke felt himself bound to the
Crusade by filial piety as well as by the chivalrous traditions of a long line
of ancestors. His coming put life into the proceedings at Regensburg. Louis of
Bavaria left his hunting, and other princes were shamed into attendance, or at
least into sending envoys. Matters progressed so far, that a definite scheme
for raising an army was drawn up by the Imperial representatives, and received
the approval of the Assembly.2 But the letter which /Eneas wrote to
a friend in Italy, soon after the close of the Congress, shows that he, at any
rate, was under no illusions as to the value of what had been effected.3
“ If the Congress is large, you say, there is good hope of a successful issue.
Is that what you think ? For my part I prefer to be silent, and I could wish
that my opinion were false and untrustworthy rather than that of a true
prophet. My wishes differ from my hopes. I cannot persuade myself of any good
result. . . . Christendom has no head whom all will obey. Neither Pope nor
Emperor receives what is his due; there is no reverence, and no obedience; we
look on Pope and Emperor only as names in a story or heads in a picture. Every
city has its own king ; there are as many princes as there are houses : how
will you persuade this multitude of rulers to take up arms ? ” “ Pride, sloth,
avarice,” he wrote a few months later, “ these are three most malignant plagues
which have caused our religion to fall before the sword of the Turk. If we were
humble, active, and generous, we could easily collect an army which would
crush, not the Turk only, but all unbelievers. But no one will curb his
ambitions, or submit to the will of others. We all suffei
1 /Eneas to Leonardo Benvoglienti, 5 July
1454 (Opera, Ep. 127).
2 Commentarii, lib. i. p. 23: “ in verba
Aeneae decretum facturr est.”
3 Loo. cit., Opera, Ep. 127.
from the disease of
Jason, who bore it ill if he did not rule, because he had never learned to be
ruled.” 1
These gloomy
prognostications were justified by the proceedings at Frankfort, where the Diet
met in the autumn of 1454, in order to discuss the Regensburg proposals. The
temper of the German princes had changed in the interval, and now not a voice
was raised in favour of the Crusade. The members of the Diet, /Eneas tells us,
“ spoke evil of Pope and Emperor, insulted their envoys, and mocked at the
Burgundians.” It was even said that the Crusade was a mere device for obtaining
money, and the pitiful appeals of the Hungarians for aid were met with the
taunt that, as they could not defend their country themselves, they were trying
to involve Germany in their own downfall.2 /Eneas did his best to
bring the princes to a better frame of mind. In a speech of two hours’
duration, which was listened to, he assures us, with the closest attention,3
he prevailed upon the Diet to renew the Regensburg decrees. Fra Giovanni
Capistrano, who was in Frankfort at the time, could not say too much in his
praise. “ Both by his admirable oration and his excellent advice, he has
conducted himself at this Diet with unexampled prudence and ability.” 4
But the princes were in a dangerous mood. The deliberations upon the Crusade
gave them an opportunity for raising the whole question of reform of the
Empire, and they determined not to vote supplies for the war until their own
grievances had been dealt with. In order that Frederick should have no means of
escape, it was decided that the next Diet should be held at Neustadt. Here, in
February 1455, the forces gathered, yet a third time, for the fray. “ I am very
much
1 .ZEneas Silvius to Fra Giovanni
Capistrano, Jan. 1455 (Opera, Ep. 405, p. 947).
2 Commentarii,
lib. i. p. 23.
3 Loc. cit.
.Eneas’s
own way of
expressing this is realistic : “ Oravit ille duabus ferme horis, ita intentis
animis auditus, ut nemo unquam expuerit.”
4 Giovanni Capistrano to Pope Nicholas v,
28 Oct. 1454 (Wadding, Annales Minorum, Rome, 1735* v°l- P- 203)-
Q
afraid that the
building which we erected at Frankfort will be destroyed,” wrote /Eneas to
Capistrano.1 It was, in fact, all ready to crumble about the ears of
the luckless Emperor, who was faced with the alternative of making abject submission
to the princes on the question of reform, or of rendering himself ridiculous in
the eyes of Europe, through the refusal of the Diet to grant supplies.
In the midst of the
proceedings at Neustadt, the death of Pope Nicholas v (24 March 1455) offered
an unexpected way of escape from the dilemma. All parties hailed the sad event
as an excuse for delay, and after agreeing that the levy of the crusading army
should be postponed for a year, the members of the Diet went their several
ways. " At the Diet of Neustadt,” wrote the despairing Hungarians, “ all
that has been achieved, besides loss of precious time and disappointment of
high hopes, is that, to the joy of our enemies, nothing has been done.”2
These fruitless assemblies had taught them that they had nothing to expect
from Germany, and that the brunt of the Turkish war must be borne by them
alone. In the following year they were reinforced by a motley crowd of
Crusaders under Capistrano’s leadership, which shared with them in the one
striking success of the Christian forces, the relief of Belgrad (21 July 1456).
But the hero of the day was the gallant Hungarian soldier Hunyadi, whose
brilliant generalship and self-sacrificing devotion kept the Turk at bay, while
Europe looked on, inactive and indifferent.
And what of /Eneas’s
feelings as he contemplated the shattered ruin of a noble scheme, the sole
result of his labours for the past two years ? Sad, weary, and disappointed,
he realised, perhaps for the first time, the limitations of that “ goddess of
persuasion ” in whom he put his trust. Eloquence had failed to kindle the
imagination of Europe, to counteract the weakness of the Imperial
1 Opera, Ep. 405, p. 948.
2 Letter of the Hungarian leaders to
Calixtus m, 21 July 1455 (Wadding, vol. xii. p. 254).
power, or to render
German Diets effective. In spite of his letters and speeches, in spite of his
passionate enthusiasm, he was obliged to endorse the verdict of the Hungarians
that nothing had been done.
The death of Nicholas
v and the election of his successor made it necessary for Frederick to send an
embassy to Rome in order to renew the obedience of Germany. /Eneas and his
friend Johann Hinderbach were the chosen envoys, and in May 1455 they set out
on their journey. As far as /Eneas was concerned the visit to Italy would be,
in any case, of some months’ duration, for he intended to take his
long-postponed holiday in Siena as soon as he had finished the Emperor’s
business. His plans for the future depended upon the new regime in Rome,
concerning which he was, as yet, very much in the dark. Nicholas v, although he
withheld the Cardinal’s hat, belonged to /Eneas’s own circle ; the two had
friends and interests in common, and as long as he reigned in Rome, /Eneas knew
that he could not be entirely forgotten. On the other hand, the old Spaniard,
Alfonso Borgia, who was now Pope Calixtus 111, was an entirely unknown quantity.
There was the fear that /Eneas might lose such influence as he possessed in the
Curia, yet there was also the hope that Calixtus might prove kinder than
Nicholas, and that /Eneas’s admission to the College of Cardinals might absolve
him from the necessity of returning to Germany. In spite of the friction
between them, /Eneas had a sincere admiration for Nicholas V, and his verdict
upon the dead Pope is written with true appreciation of the masterful,
hot-tempered, highly cultivated scholar. After speaking of Nicholas’s wonderful
memory, profound learning, and generous patronage of art and letters, he adds:
" He was quick to anger, but soon repented. His care for the sick and
needy was unfailing. He was truthful in speech, and could not tolerate lies and
inaccuracies. He trusted in himself too much, and never thought a thing well
done unless he had done it. He loved choice books and fine clothes.
He was staunch to his
friends, although there was not one of them who did not occasionally experience
his anger. He could forgive an injury but he never forgot it.” 1 “
His buildings show the vastness of his soul, for no one built more splendidly,
more lavishly, or more rapidly than he.” 2 Such was the final
tribute of one humanist to another. Sorrow for the loss of a true man of
letters and mingled hope and misgiving with regard to his own future were the
prevailing sentiments in /Eneas’s mind, as he crossed the Alps for the last
time.
Rome, in the summer
of 1455, was a changed place since /Eneas had last visited it. Piero da Noceto
had lost his post at the Vatican, being one of the many scholars who were
thrown out of employment by the death of the humanist Pope. For artists,
architects, collectors, translators, and men of letters of every kind, the
golden age of prosperity had vanished. The new Pope cared nothing for the arts
; he was simple in his habits and rarely left his own room ; all the strength
and energy that remained to him were devoted to the two great objects of his
heart’s desire, the promotion of the Borgia family and the prose- secution of
the war against the Turk. “ The matter is very dear to our Holy Lord,” 3
wrote /Eneas, on the subject of the Crusade. “ He thinks of nothing else night
and day save by what means the Turk can be defeated. Both in private and public
he declares his firm belief that he will not die until Constantinople is
recovered.” Calixtus had small faith in Congresses, but preaching friars were
sent through the length and breadth of Europe, selling indulgences, collecting
tithes, and enlisting recruits for the crusading army. Meanwhile his own
efforts were directed towards the production of an adequate Papal fleet. The
treasures of Nicholas v’s collection, the gorgeous bindings of the books in the
Vatican Library, even the golden salt-cellar from the Pope’s dinner-table, were
all sacrificed to the
1 Fea, p.
109. 2 Hist. Frid. Ill,
p. 138.
8 Cugnoni,
Ep. 58, pp. 121 seq.
same end, and in a
year’s time a fleet of sixteen vessels set sail for the East, a creditable
witness to Calixtus m’s self-sacrificing zeal.
Common enthusiasm for
the Crusade at once created a strong bond of union between iEneas and the Pope,
and our hero’s own reception left nothing to be desired. But on the question of
German obedience Calixtus proved the reverse of conciliatory. “ On the evening
of our arrival, ’ ’ iEneas wrote to the Emperor, “ we sent to our Holy Lord,
saying that we wished to speak to him in secret before the public audience. He
replied that he would be glad to hear us, but that we must beware of trying to
make conditions with regard to the obedience, as under no circumstances would
he accept a conditional obedience. The message seemed hard to us, but we went
to His Holiness on the following day and expounded to him your Majesty’s
honourable intentions, and then, with all possible modesty, we brought forward
your requests.” 1 But the Papacy had grown stronger since the day
when Eneas first proffered the obedience of Germany to the dying Eugenius,
while the power of the Emperor had waned, and no amount of tact could readjust
the balance between them. The Imperial alliance was no longer of vital
importance to the Pope ; therefore he declined to buy it by concessions, and
Eneas ended by renewing the obedience without further reference to the conditions
which Frederick had hoped to impose.
Meanwhile Eneas heard
himself spoken of in Rome as likely to be made a Cardinal in Advent. When the
time came for the publication of Calixtus ill’s first creations a rumour went
out from the Vatican that both the Bishop of Siena and the Bishop of Zamora
were among the new Cardinals. Eneas was suffering from a sharp attack of gout,
and his friends hurried to his bedside with the good news ; but he prudently
declined to indulge in any demon-
1 iEneas
Silvius and Johann Hinderbach to Frederick in, Rome, 8.Sept. 1455 (Cugnoni,
Aeneae Silvii Opera Inedita, pp. 122-6).
strations of joy
until the rumour was confirmed. " Yet so varied is the nature of man that
some easily believe what they desire ”; the Bishop of Zamora at once accepted
the news as true. “ Now at last I obtain what I have coveted for the past
thirty-nine years,” he cried, and hurried to his favourite church to return
thanks.1 But when the result of the Consistory was made known there
were only three new Cardinals, and neither /Eneas nor Zamora was among them. It
was a bitter disappointment, but /Eneas took consolation from the thought that
he had been spared from making himself ridiculous, and waited with what
patience he could muster for a future creation. He employed his time, during
the interval, in a visit to the Court of Naples, where his influence prevailed
upon King Alfonso to make peace between the condottiere, Jacopo Piccinino, and
the Republic of Siena. At first Alfonso had refused to listen to the entreaties
of the Sienese, but on /Eneas’s arrival all was changed.2 The
Neapolitan king was a man of culture and a generous patron, he had made friends
with /Eneas over the Emperor’s marriage negotiations six years before, and he
welcomed him back to Naples with real pleasure. “ Now we will gladly speak of
peace,” he said, “ for a mediator has arrived whom we love.” 3
/Eneas was thoroughly in his element at the Neapolitan Court, in the cultivated
society of scholars and artists which circled round the great Alfonso. Among
the chief literary lights was Antonio Beccadelli, II Panormita, whom /Eneas had
known in University days at Siena, and who was now collecting the literary
materials for Alfonso’s career. /Eneas spent his leisure moments in compiling
four books of anecdotes and epigrams to add to his friend’s collection.4
He also visited the sights of the neighbourhood—Baia, Cumae, Salerno,
Amalfi—and showed his accustomed zest
1 Commentarii, lib. i. pp. 25-6. ‘ Cf. Malavolti, p. 54.
3 Commentarii,
lib. i. p. 27.
4 ./Eneas
Silvius, In Libros Antonii Panormitae poetae, de dictis et factis A
Iphonst regis memorabilibus Commentarius {Opera, pp. 4*72—97).
in hunting out
everything of interest, from classical remains to relics of the Apostles.1
Thus the days passed pleasantly enough, and he left Naples, feeling that he had
discovered in Alfonso the humanist’s ideal of what a prince should be. He even
congratulated himself—so well did Alfonso understand the art of
dissimulation—on having secured a distinguished recruit for the Crusade. On
returning to Rome he was again greeted with the news that he was about to be
made a Cardinal. This time there was no mistake, and on 18 December 1456 /Eneas
entered the Sacred College as Cardinal Priest of Santa Sabina.
The two short years
of his Cardinalate were probably among the happiest in /Eneas’s life. After
hard work and many disappointments, he had at last achieved his ambition, and
as he contemplated the life of cultivated ease and pleasant companionship which
opened out to him in Rome, he felt as if he had left struggles and difficulties
for ever behind him. His triumph was made sweeter by the knowledge that it had
been won in the face of strenuous opposition. The members of the Sacred College
feared that more scions of the Borgia family would be added to their numbers,
and they protested to the last against any fresh creations. “ No Cardinals ever
entered the College with greater difficulty than we ; for rust had so corroded
the hinges that the door would not open.” 2 So wrote /Eneas, in a
spirit of entire satisfaction, to a fellow-recipient of the red hat, the Bishop
of Pavia. To Nicholas of Cusa, already a Cardinal of some years’ standing, he
wrote begging him to leave his German bishopric in order to act as mentor and
guide to his new colleague.3 “ Rome is the only country for
Cardinals,” he exclaimed, rejoicing at the thought that he need never leave
Italy again. " Even if a man were born in the Indies, he would have either
to
1 Commentarii, lib. i. p. 27.
2iEneas
Silvius to the Cardinal of Pavia (Opera, Ep. 195, p. 765), 26 Dec. 1456.
3 iEneas Silvius to Cardinal Cusa (Opera,
Ep. 197, p. 765), 27 Dec. 1456.
refuse the hat, or to
seek Rome, the home and mother of us all.”
Nevertheless, it was
not in ZEneas’s nature to rest upon his laurels, and he had not been long a
Cardinal before he found new objects to strive for, and fresh spurs to his
ambition. In the first place, the new Cardinal found himself decidedly short
of money. “ Poor I was bom, and poor I have remained; my honour has increased,
but not so my riches.” 1 The bishopric of Siena, he had long complained,
was “ as unfruitful as an elm tree,” 2 and what with the disturbed
state of the country, and the constant litigation arising out of the affairs of
the see, his Vicar had hard work to make both ends meet. ZEneas also suffered
from being the most prosperous member of a large and needy family. His tastes
were simple and books his only luxury, but he soon realised that he must add to
his income, if he were to maintain himself with suitable dignity and satisfy
the hungry crowd of poor relations who were for ever at his doors. Thereupon
began a zealous hunt for vacant benefices which was conducted by means of his
many friends in Germany. “ When anything falls vacant in your country that you
think we could obtain, pray inform us of it,” 3 ZEneas wrote to
Heinrich Senftleben, one of the Imperial secretaries. Again, on the following
day to another friend : “ When you hear that any monastery or good canonry is
vacant, let us know quickly.”4 On the death of the Bishop of
Ermland, in 1457, he was elected as his successor by a section of the Chapter,
but in spite of the Pope’s support, he was never able to obtain possession of
the see ; nevertheless, the citizens of the remote Baltic port are still proud
to reckon ZEneas Silvius among their Bishops.5 Disappointments of
this kind were of common occurrence, but ZEneas himself confesses to deriving
an
1 Opera, Ep. 352, p. 830.
2 tineas to the Cardinal of Fermo, 22 Jan.
1454 (Weiss, Ep. 130- Voigt, Ep. 348).
3 Opera, Ep. 272, p.
793. 4 Opera, Ep. 273/p.
794.
6 Cf.
Voigt, vol. ii. pp. 223-32, for a detailed account of the episode.
income of two
thousand ducats from the German Church, only a fair reward, in his own opinion,
for long service in Germany.1 Yet he did not wish to exceed the
limits of propriety or to appear unduly grasping. “It does not please us that
another benefice should have been taken in our name in so short a time,” he
wrote to an over-zealous friend; “we are most anxious not to displease this
nation, but we are driven by necessity, for we must maintain a fitting
position.” 2
Far more than riches,
/Eneas coveted an influential position in the Curia. A Cardinal who was not a
Papal favourite, a member of a powerful Roman family, or the representative of
some foreign power, tended to sink into obscurity, and this was a prospect
which our hero could not even contemplate. Here again, his connection with
Germany served him in good stead, and he lost no opportunity of asserting his
claim to represent the Empire in Rome. More valuable still was his native
talent for adapting himself to new surroundings, establishing easy relations
with his colleagues, proving his worth, and making friends. Cardinal Rodrigo
Borgia, the Pope’s ambitious nephew, found in /Eneas an agreeable companion,
who did not judge his youthful follies too harshly, and who was always ready to
do him a service. On the other hand, Cardinal Orsini, who headed a rival
faction in the College, lived on equally good terms with him. Towards his
inferiors he was affable and easy of access; his equals he treated with just
sufficient deference to gratify their vanity. His tact, courtesy, and
cheerfulness were unfailing. It is easy to understand that, while possessing
few outward advantages, Cardinal Piccolo- mini soon came to occupy a unique
position in the Curia, and that, as the advancing years of Calixtus in turned
all thoughts towards another Papal election, /Eneas should be thought of as a
possible candidate for the throne of S. Peter.
/Eneas’s claim to be
the chief representative of the
1 Opera, Ep. 356. Cf. also Martin Mayr
to Mneas, Opera, p. 1035.
2 Opera, Ep. 321, JJneas to Johann Tolner,
4 Nov. 1457-
Empire among the
Cardinals was not allowed to pas challenged. The Cardinal of Pavia considered
that hi a right to the position, on the strength of his somewh; glorious
legatine mission to Germany for the promoti the Crusade, and he was constantly
interfering in Ge affairs, in a way that /Eneas regarded as wholly unwar able.
The latter was especially tenacious of his priv: where King Ladislas was
concerned, and when 1 carried his interference into this quarter it was a case
of warfare. “ We beg you to see to it that when His Ho] and the Cardinals are
addressed on Hungarian affair: are made to appear greatly beloved by the King,
as ir we are ; for there are certain persons here who wish to plant us, as if
they were more ‘ royal ’ than we ... a would be unjust if new-comers were
allowed to usur] position.” 1 So wrote /Eneas to a Hungarian friend,
’ he had reason to fear the activity of his rival. E incident in ecclesiastical
politics was turned to the poses of this unseemly feud : if /Eneas supported
candidate for a vacant bishopric, Pavia promptly ported another, generally to
find himself worsted bj whose experience of German affairs was greatly superi
his own. /Eneas had too intimate a knowledge of Gen to make the struggle equal,
but, in spite of the satisfa which he derived from his rival's discomfiture, he
was scious of the brevity of royal memories, and his letters that he had a
nervous fear of being supplanted and gotten. When a new Papal envoy, Lorenzo
Rovarella sent to effect a reconciliation between the Emperor Ladislas, /Eneas
wrote anxiously to Senftleben : “ The bums with an incredible desire to appear
German the arbiter of Germany, but if the King is wise he will tinue to make
use of one with whom he has eaten a b of salt.”2 In this frame of
mind nothing could be welcome to him than the fresh difficulties which arose
bet
1 Opera, Ep. 246, p. 782, To
Nicolao Listio, 10 March 1457.
2 Opera, Ep. 311, p. 811, 2 Nov. 1457.
the Papacy and the
German Church. Directly the friction became serious, he, with his long
experience as a mediator, was the one person who could be of use: Cardinal
Piccolomini was as active and as important as he wished to be.
The trouble arose in
1456, when the German princes began to make sporadic efforts after reform,
their zeal taking the usual shape of a combined attack upon Pope and Emperor.
At one moment both Frederick and Calixtus were in danger of deposition, and the
threat of a Pragmatic Sanction for Germany was brandished, sword-like, over the
Pope’s head. But, as usual, the Diets from which great deeds were expected,
achieved little but empty words, and when /Eneas was drawn into the struggle,
matters had already reached the stage at which individual reformers were
willing to be bribed into abandoning their revolutionary designs. In August
1457, Martin Mayr, the Chancellor of the Archbishop of Mainz, wrote to
congratulate /Eneas on his Cardinalate, and he made this friendly letter the
vehicle for a detailed indictment of the Pope’s dealings with the German
Church.1 The ruthless disregard of the principle of free capitular
election, the shameless sale of benefices, the use of reservation as a means of
enriching members of the Curia, these and numerous other forms of Papal
extortion were the burden of Mayr’s complaint. The grievances were genuine
enough, but /Eneas read between the lines of the letter, and realised that its
true purport was to show that the Archbishop of Mainz, hitherto the leader of
the reforming party, was prepared to enter upon separate negotiations with the
Pope. With skill born of experience, he at once took the necessary steps to
complete the process of dissolution. In his answer to Mayr2 he
assured him of the Pope’s readiness to redress any grievances which the
Electors would point out, and the Archbishop of Mainz promptly acted upon the
suggestion, sending an envoy to Rome in the following month who
1 Martin Mayr to iEneas Silvius, Opera, p.
1035.
2 Opera, Ep. 369.
was able to effect an
understanding between Calixtus and his some-time opponent. Meanwhile /Eneas
wrote secret instructions to his many friends in Germany as to the part which
it behoved them to play.1 He supplied the Emperor with an
appropriate defence of the Papal policy,2 and he suggested to the
Pope the exact degree of cordiality or severity which he should use towards the
various dignitaries of the German Church.3 So well did he do his
work that when the death of Ladislas in November 1457 turned the thoughts of
Germany into another channel, this sad event gave the final blow to a movement
that was already dead. The only permanent importance of the whole episode lies
in the fact that it produced the Germania, that vivid picture of
fifteenth-century Germany, one of the best and most characteristic of /Eneas’s
literary works.
De ritu,
situ, condition# et moribus Germaniae,4 to give
it its full title, was an expansion of /Eneas’s original answer to Martin Mayr.
It was an attempt to vindicate the Papal policy in Germany by showing the
degree of power and prosperity to which the country had attained under the
auspices of the Catholic Church. Thus it is frankly a political pamphlet, a
forcible statement of one side of the question, containing much that is open to
argument, and much that is exaggerated and over-coloured. Nevertheless, it
surpasses all other descriptions of the day, because there was no one who knew
Germany so intimately as /Eneas, and who possessed, at the same time, the
artist’s vision and the artist’s power of reproduction. Smiling cities and
noble churches, fertile lands and broad rivers, the prosperity of the
merchants, the power and wealth of the princes, both ecclesiastical and lay—all
these are portrayed in the Germania, to the delight of generations
1Ct. Opera,
Epp. 320, 331, 335, 337, etc.
2 Calixtus hi to Frederick 111, 31 Aug.
1457 (written by /Eneas in the Pope’s name), Opera, Ep. 371, p. 840.
3 Cf. Voigt, vol.
ii. p. 237. « Opera, pp. 1035-86.
of German patriots,
who have forgotten, if they were ever aware of, the circumstances which led to
its production.
The Germania is not
alone among /Eneas’s writings at this period. Comparative leisure and access to
good libraries gave him opportunities for literary work which he had not
enjoyed before. During his brief career as Cardinal he was at work on his
History of Frederick III, carrying it down to the death of King Ladislas. He
also compiled the Europa, a preliminary collection of materials which he hoped
to weave into a Cosmographia, or historical and geographical treatise upon all
parts of the known world. Finally, in the summer of 1458, when he was staying
at Viterbo, taking baths for his gout, he beguiled the time by writing a
History of Bohemia, a country in which he had taken special interest since the days
of his first encounter with the Hussites at Basel. He intended to offer the
book to his friend King Alfonso, and he had already composed the dedication
when he heard that the great patron of humanism had breathed his last (June
1458). A few weeks later his peaceful villegiatura was interrupted by the news
of the death of Calixtus 111 (6 August). Cardinal Calandrini, Nicholas v’s
nephew, who had also been taking baths in the neighbourhood, came hurriedly to
Viterbo, and he and ./Eneas set out together for Rome. Both Cardinals were
considered possible candidates for the Papacy, and the Romans, who had set
their hearts upon an Italian Pope, gave them a demonstrative welcome as they
rode into the city. On 16 August, in the Vatican Palace, the Cardinals entered
the Conclave.
THE PAPAL ELECTION T
the Papal election of 1458 the College of Cardinals
numbered twenty-four
members. Of these, Car
dinals Carvaj al and
Scarampo were away on special missions, the one in Hungary, the other in charge
of the Papal fleet; Nicholas of Cusa had remained faithful to his own diocese
of Brixen, in spite of Eneas’s efforts to entice him to Rome; the Bishop of
Augsburg was one of those purely German ecclesiastics who never visited the
Curia; and two Frenchmen, Cardinals Rolin and de Longueil, were also absent
from the Conclave. Thus the choice of the new Pope lay with eighteen Cardinals,
divided into various groups for national, political, or personal reasons, and
divided also in their own minds as to whether they should press for the
candidate whom they most desired, or direct their energies solely to opposing
him whom they most disliked.
Perhaps the most
prominent member of the College was Guillaume d’Estouteville, the powerful and
wealthy Cardinal of Rouen. In his Church of S. Maria Maggiore the best music
and the most eloquent preachers of the day were to be heard, and his
magnificent palace was the centre of a brilliant and cultivated society. He had
a faithful supporter in the Cardinal of Avignon, and of the possible candidates
for the Papacy, seemed, on the whole, the most likely to succeed. Among the
Italian Cardinals, the Orsini and the Colonna each had their representative in
the College. Genoa was represented by her Archbishop, Cardinal Fiesco, and
Milan by /Eneas’s
bete
noire, the Cardinal of Pavia, a member of the ancient family of Castiglione.
Cardinals Barbo and Calandrini were nephews of former Popes, while old Cardinal
Tebaldo was a protege of Calixtus in, being the brother of his favourite
physician. These, with /Eneas—the Cardinal of Siena,—made up a body that was
numerically strong, but which possessed little cohesion, and no very obvious
head. Calixtus iii had taken care that
the Spanish contingent should be large. His two nephews, Borgia and de Mila,
the Bishop of Zamora, and the Portuguese princeling, Don Jayme, were all his
creations. There were also two Spaniards of older standing, Cardinal Cerdano,
and the theologian, Torquemada. The converts from the Greek Church, Bessarion
and Isidore of Russia, stood somewhat apart from the rest, their eyes fixed on
the East, and only desirous of choosing a Pope who would place the Crusade
against the Turk in the forefront of his policy.
Such was the motley
company which gathered in the Vatican in the hot August weather, and it was
difficult to predict upon whom the choice of the Conclave would fall. The situation
was complicated by the fact that the one person whom all parties would have
supported had died two days before. This was the learned and saintly Cardinal
Domenico Capranica, who had given /Eneas his start in life when he passed
through Siena, twenty-seven years earlier, and whose timely decease left the
way clear for his former secretary to ascend the throne of S. Peter. Many of
the Italian Cardinals, confronted by the difficulty of agreeing upon another
candidate, were inclined to give a reluctant assent to the election of
Estouteville, but there were forces outside the College to be reckoned with. To
Ferrante, the new King of Naples, struggling to hold his father’s throne
against rebel barons and Angevin claimants, it was of the utmost importance to prevent
the choice of a Frenchman. A French Pope in Rome would create a centre of
Angevin influence on the borders of the Neapolitan kingdom, and Ferrante was
doing everything
in his power to avert
so great a misfortune. He was aidec by Francesco Sforza, who was keenly alive
to the danger oJ French predominance in Italy. The measure of success which
their diplomacy had achieved can be gathered frorr the report which the
Milanese ambassador forwarded tc his master on the eve of the Conclave : "
Although God has shattered our designs by taking to Himself the most worthy
Cardinal of Fermo (Capranica), I have called reason to my counsel in this great
misfortune, and I hope, with God’s help, to bring matters to a satisfactory
conclusion. I am not without hope of Cardinal Colonna, but the Cardinal oi
Siena seems to me more probable, seeing that all parties are most inclined to
agree upon his election, including the envoys of King Ferrante.” 1
Before the Cardinals
entered the Conclave, Domenico de Domenichi, Bishop of Torcello, preached to
the assembled College, taking as his text Acts i. 24, “ Thou, Lord, which
knowest the hearts of all men, shew of these two the oru whom Thou hast
chosen.” Humanism had gained an entry even into the proceedings of a Papal
election, and al the fire and eloquence of the new learning were throwr into
the Bishop’s appeal to his hearers to consider th< gravity of their
responsibility, and to choose a Pope whc would deal worthily with the great
problems which laj before him.2 After the sermon the members of the
Conclave spent the remainder of the day in settling in to thei: new quarters.
Separate cells were provided for the Car dinals in a large hall of the Vatican,
and there were corridor where they could meet or walk about.3 The
actual busi ness of election took place in the Chapel of S. Nicholas where Fra
Angelico’s frescoes in their pristine glory smilec upon the assembly.
17 August was devoted
to the business of drawing u] the Capitulations, which each Cardinal swore to
observ
1 Otto de Carretto to the Duke of Milan,
14 Aug. 1458 (Pastor, vol. ii Appendix I.).
2 Pastor, vol. iii. p. 8. 3 Commentarii, lib. i. p.
30.
in the event of his
becoming Pope. This attempt to bind the Pope in embryo, before endowing him
with unlimited authority, dated, apparently, from the election of Boniface viii.1 The actual
Capitulations varied on each occasion, and they had gained a new prominence
from the conciliar movement, which raised the whole question of the nature of
Papal authority and the place of the Cardinals in the Constitution of the
Church. If the Capitulations of 1458 had been strictly observed, they would
have transformed the Papacy from a monarchy into an oligarchy.2 The
Pope was pledged to prosecute the Crusade “ according to the counsel of his
brothers the Cardinals,” and to undertake the reform of the Curia with their
advice and help. He might not move the Curia without their consent, or make any
ecclesiastical appointments, save to small and unimportant benefices. With
regard to the government of the States of the Church, the consent of the
Cardinals was declared necessary to the granting of fiefs, the declaration of
war, and the imposition of fresh taxes. An article which was entirely new to
the occasion required the Pope to make a monthly allowance of a hundred ducats
to every Cardinal whose total income was under 4000 ducats. It is possible that
this demand for the Piatto Cardinalizio,3 as it came to be called,
was partly owing to the financial straits in which the Cardinal of Siena so
frequently found himself. The weak point of the Capitulations lay, however, in
the absence of any power to enforce them upon an autocratic Pope. It was
decreed that the Cardinals should meet once a year to inquire into their due
observance, and that, if they found that the Pope had failed in his duty, they
should “ admonish him in love ” three times. Yet if the third admonition did
not produce the desired effect, no other remedy was suggested, nor, indeed, was
any remedy possible save an
1 Cf. Pastor, vol. i. p. 283.
2 Raynaldus, 1458 (Pius II, i.), Nos.
5-8 for text. Raynaldus, 1352, No. 25, gives the Capitulations of the year
1352.
3 Cf. Pastor, vol. iii. p. 11.
10
appeal to a General
Council, which the Cardinals considered as dangerous and undesirable as did the
Pope himself.
The preliminaries
being accomplished, the real work of the Conclave began, and after Mass the
next morning the first scrutiny was held.1 A golden chalice was
placed on the altar, and three Cardinals kept watch over it as the rest
advanced, one by one, to drop in the paper on which they had recorded their
vote. When the chalice was emptied, it was found that the Cardinals of Siena
and Bologna had each five votes, while no one else had more than three. But
the first scrutiny seldom represented more than a preliminary testing of
opinion, and after the Cardinals had adjourned for breakfast, a series of
conferences began among the various groups, which continued throughout the
day. “ The richest and most powerful members of the College,” /Eneas tells us,
“ summoned the others to their side, and solicited the Apostolic See for
themselves or their friends. They entreated, they promised, they threatened,
and some threw aside all modesty and did not blush to sound their own praises
and set forward their own claims to the Papacy.” 2 Foremost in these
intrigues was the Cardinal of Rouen, who saw that both /Eneas and Calandrini
were dangerous rivals, and therefore directed his energies mainly towards
undermining their position. “ But most of all he feared /Eneas, holding his
silence to be far more formidable than the clamourings of the others.” 3
“ What is there in this man,” he urged, “ that makes you consider him worthy of
the Papacy ? Will you give us a Pope who is poor and gouty ? How can a poor man
relieve the poverty of the Church, or one who is sick heal her diseases ? He
has but lately come from Germany. How can we tell that he will not transfer the
Curia thither ? And what does his learning signify ? Would you set a poet on
1 The account of the proceedings of the
Conclave rests on the authority of /Eneas. Cf. Commentarii, lib. i. pp.
30-2. The important passages omitted from the printed edition but contained
in the original MSS. are given by Lesca, pp. 429-38, and by Cugnoni, pp. 784-9.
2 Lesca, p. 429 (MS. of Commentarii,
lib. i.). 3
Ibid., p. 430.
S. Peter’s throne,
and allow the Church to be ruled by the precepts of heathen philosophy ? As to
Philip of Bologna (Calandrini), he is a thick-headed man who can neither rule
by himself nor profit by the advice of others. I, on the other hand, am a
Cardinal of senior standing; you know that I am not without wisdom or
experience in ecclesiastical affairs. I have royal blood in my veins. I abound
in friends and riches, and I am willing to use them in the cause of the Church.
I am in possession of not a few benefices, and these I shall distribute among
you on vacating them.” 1 So well did these tactics succeed that,
when evening came, Estouteville could reckon with tolerable certainty on eleven
votes. He only needed one more to obtain the requisite majority of two-thirds
of the Conclave. “ When it was seen that eleven had agreed, no one doubted that
there would soon be a twelfth, for, once matters had advanced thus far, some
one would certainly rise and say, ‘ I will make you Pope,’ and so obtain
favour.” 2 Such was ZEneas’s view of the situation, and the
Cardinals retired to rest feeling that the election was practically decided.
In the middle of the
night ZEneas was roused from his slumbers by Cardinal Calandrini, who had come
to give him some friendly advice. Now that Estouteville’s election was assured,
he urged his colleague to get up at once, and go and offer his vote, so as to
escape the unpleasant consequences of being out of favour with the new Pope. “
I know what it is like to have the Pope as an enemy,” said the unfortunate
Calandrini. “ I experienced it under Calixtus, who never turned a friendly eye
upon me, because I did not vote for him.” But ZEneas was fashioned after a
different pattern, and Calandrini’s timid proposals only roused his fighting
instinct. “ I reject your counsel,
O Philip,” he exclaimed; “no one shall
persuade me to choose one whom I think unworthy to be the successor of S.
Peter. . . . The Pope cannot kill me if I do not vote for him. ‘ But,’ you say,
‘ he will not love you or succour
1 Lesca, p.
430. ! Ibid., p. 431
you, and you will
suffer poverty.’ As to that, poor I have lived and poor I can die. I shall not
be deprived of the Muses, who are kinder to those of slender fortune. Moreover,
I cannot believe that God will suffer His Bride the Church to suffer ruin at
the hands of Estouteville. . . . To-morrow will show a Pope chosen, not by men,
but by God. You are a Christian; take care that you do not choose as Christ’s
Vicar him whom you know to be a limb of the devil.” 1
This outburst of
vehemence was the first step in a determined effort on /Eneas’s part to rally
the Italian Cardinals in defence of their nation, and to defeat the French
conspiracy. As soon as day dawned he went to his friend Borgia, and asked him
why he had been so short-sighted as to promise his vote to Rouen. “ I consulted
my own interests, and fell in with the majority,” Borgia replied. “ I have a
written promise that I shall not lose the Vice-Chancellorship. If I do not vote
for Rouen, others will elect him, and I shall be deprived of my office.”
“Foolish youth!” retorted/Eneas. " You have your promise, but the Cardinal
of Avignon will have the Chancery. What is promised to you is also promised to
him, and can you doubt with whom faith will be kept ? ” 2 /Eneas
next sought the Cardinal of Pavia, and adapting his argument to his hearer,
appealed not so much to motives of selfinterest as to patriotism and family pride.
He reminded him that his revered uncle, Cardinal Branda Castiglione, had been
active in restoring the Papacy to Rome at the time of the election of Martin v.
Would the nephew undo the uncle’s work and help to transfer the Papacy to
France ? Whoever else might waver, he had never doubted that Pavia would stand
firm. He had been sadly deceived in his opinion of him. Overcome by these reproaches,
Pavia explained amid tears and sighs that he had given his word to
Estouteville, and could not go back upon it. “ It has come to this, as far as I
can see,” replied /Eneas,
1 Lesca,
pp. 431-2. 2 ibid., p. 433.
with bracing
frankness: " whatever course you take, you will be forced to play the
traitor. It is for you to choose whether you will betray your Church and
country, or the Cardinal of Rouen.” 1 At this point, Cardinal Barbo
took up the task, and assembling the Italian Cardinals in the Archbishop of
Genoa’s cell, he besought them “ to prove that they were men, to consider their
mother the Church and unhappy Italy, and, putting aside their own rivalries, to
choose an Italian Pope.” Thereupon the others proposed /Eneas as their
candidate, and, in spite of his modest protests, it was decided to support him
at the morrow’s scrutiny.
The next day all met
once more in the Chapel of S. Nicholas. Estouteville was one of the Cardinals
in charge of the chalice, and as our hero advanced to record his vote, he
whispered in his ear, “ I commend myself to you, /Eneas.” “ Do you commend
yourself to a worm like me ? ” 2 was the swift retort. When every
one had voted, the papers were taken one by one from the chalice, and the names
recorded on them read aloud.3 At the conclusion Estouteville
announced that the Cardinal of Siena had eight votes, but /Eneas had kept
careful note of the names as they were read out, and he bade him count again.
Estouteville was obliged to own himself mistaken —the Cardinal of Siena had
nine votes. Only three extra votes were required to decide the election, and it
was resolved to proceed by the method of accession in order to obviate the
necessity of a fresh scrutiny. There followed a few moments of breathless
silence. “ All sat still in their places, with pale faces, as if rapt by the
Holy Spirit. No one spoke, no one opened his mouth or moved any part of his
body save his eyes, which rolled in every direction. Wonderful indeed was the
silence and strange the appear
1 Lesca, pp. 433-5. 2 Ibid., p. 435.
3 Each Cardinal filled up his paper in the
following form: " Ego Petrus (sive Joannes sive alio nomine fuerit) in
Romanam Pontificem
eligo Aeneam
Cardinalem senensem ” (Commentarii, p. 30).
ance of the men from
whom proceeded neither voice nor movement.”1 Suddenly Cardinal
Borgia rose to his feet. “ I accede to the Cardinal of Siena,” he said, and “
his voice was like a sword in the heart of Rouen.” 2 But Eneas had
enemies in the Conclave, and among them was Cardinal Torquemada, who had known
him at Basel, and had not forgiven the part which he played there. At this
point, Torquemada and Isidore of Russia tried to break off the proceedings by
leaving the Chapel; but no one followed them, and seeing that their device had
failed, they soon returned. As they did so old Cardinal Tebaldo rose. “ I also
accede to him of Siena,” he said; and the suspense became as acute as if they
had felt the shock of an earthquake. At last Cardinal Colonna rose; but as he
was about to speak, Estouteville and Bessarion seized him on either side and
tried to drag him forcibly from the Conclave. Protesting and resisting, he
cried out, “ I too accede to the Cardinal of Siena, and make him Pope.” In a
moment all opposition was at an end, and the Cardinals prostrated themselves at
the feet of Eneas, the newly elected Pontiff.3
After the election had
been confirmed Bessarion spoke in the name of the rival party, and assured
Eneas that their only objection to him was on the ground of his physical
infirmity. They felt that an active Pope was required in order to prosecute the
war against the Turk. “ But God’s will is our will. He who has chosen you will
supply what is lacking in your feet, and pardon our ignorance.” “ You think far
better of us than we do of ourselves,” Eneas answered. “ You confine our
imperfections to our feet; we know that they extend further. We are conscious
of innumerable failings which might have caused our rejection,
1 Commentarii, lib. i. p. 30.
2 Lesca, p. 436 (MS. of Commentarii).
3 The nine Cardinals who voted for iEneas
were Orsini, Calandrini, Barbo, Fiesco, and Castiglione of the Italians; De
Mila, Don Jayme, Cerdano, and Zamora of the Spanish party. The two Greeks, the
two Frenchmen, and Torquemada opposed him.
and we know of no
merits that fit us for this high office. . . . We should not venture to accept
the honour did we not know that the action of two-thirds of the Sacred College
proceeds from the Holy Spirit, whom we must not disobey. We honour you, and
those who acted with you ; if you thought us unworthy, you obeyed your
conscience in refusing to vote for us. You will be all equally dear to us; for
we do not ascribe our election to this person or that, but to the whole College
and to God Almighty, from whom cometh every good and perfect gift.” 1
Even at this crisis of his life, the inborn gift of appropriate speech did not
desert him ; the Pontifical note rang out, clear and strong, in the first words
that he uttered.
The Cardinals
proceeded to vest /Eneas with the white Papal tunic, and asked by what name he
wished to be called. “ Pius,” he answered, without hesitation. It was not of
the early Christian saint and martyr, Pope Pius i, that he was thinking, but of
Pius /Eneas, Vergil’s hero, a fitting sponsor for a humanist Pope. In this new
name he signed the Capitulations: “ I, Pius n, promise and swear, by God’s help,
to observe all and each of the above, as far as lies in my power, and as is
consistent with the honour and integrity of the Apostolic See.” 2
Meanwhile the Cardinal’s servants rushed to the new Pope’s cell, and
appropriated their customary booty in the shape of books, clothes, and money ;
but of the last, remarks the owner dryly, they found very little.3
The Roman mob also suffered disappointment from the comparatively unprofitable
results of the raid upon the Piccolomini palace ; some persons, however,
contrived to mistake the cry “ II Sanese ” for “ II Genovese,” and plundered
the palace of the wealthy Cardinal Fiesco instead. Directly he had had some
food, Pius II went to S. Peter’s, and having been seated upon the high altar
over the relics of the Apostles,
1 Commentarii, lib. i. p. 31.
2 Raynaldus, 1458 (Pius II, i.), No.
8.
3 Commentarii, lib. i. p. 31.
he was installed on
the Papal throne to receive the adoration of the assembled multitude.
So the fiercely
contested election was decided, and all patriotic Italians rejoiced at the
result. "We were in grave danger of having a French Pope,” wrote Antonio
da Pistoia to the Duke of Milan, “ and there were such intrigues between Rouen
and Avignon that it seemed almost impossible that the Papacy should not fall to
one of them. God be praised that it has remained in Italy ! ”1 In
Rome, the old people, who had witnessed several Papal elections, declared that
they had never seen the city so carried away by enthusiasm. Ferrante of Naples,
breathing a sigh of relief, hastened to send his heartfelt congratulations ;
Borso d’Este ordered a three-days’ holiday in Ferrara to do honour to the
occasion ;2 Siena was almost beside herself with pride and delight.
The citizens of the fair Tuscan Republic had been keeping their August festival
with terror in their hearts. King Alfonso’s death, Francesco Tomasio informs
us, had left their arch-enemy, Picci- nino, “ unoccupied by any war-like
enterprise,” and he had already threatened to expend his superfluous energies upon
the luckless Sienese.3 The Magistrates were debating the
advisability of buying off his attack, when all fears were turned to rejoicing
by the news that their own Bishop had been elected Pope. Agostino Dati, the
Secretary of the Republic, has left a graphic account of the scenes of wild
festivity to which Siena abandoned herself.4 " Joy seized the
hearts of the people directly the news was made known.” Magistrates and private
citizens, men and women, grown people and children, all rejoiced together, and
every bell in Siena was set ringing. At night the whole city was illuminated,
and the citizens feasted at public banquets with
1 Antonio da
Pistoia to Francesco Sforza, Rome, 21 Aug. 1458 (Pastor, vol. iii. Appendix
3).
2 Diario Ferrarese (Muratori, xxiv. p.
202). Borso also instituted a special race for the palio, offering a piece
of green damask as the prize.
3 Franciscus
Thomasius, Historia Senensis (Muratori, xx. p. 56).
“Agostino Dati, Opera, pp. 84-5 (Senis, 1503).
CORONATION OF PIUS 11
ABOVE (LEFT) THE
IMPERIAL EAGLE, (RIGHT) THE ARMS OF THE PEOPLE AND COMMUNE OF SIENA BELOW, THE
CITY OF SIENA BOOK COVER OF THE BICCHERNA, 1460 Stale A rchives, Siena
live wreaths upon
their heads. There was dancing in the ’iazza and singing in the streets; “ it
was as if the golden ge had returned.” This first outburst of rejoicing was
ollowed by festivities of a more formal kind, which con- inued without
interruption until after Pius n’s coronation. )n that day, 3 September, a
solemn service was held in he Duomo; the Magistrates of the Republic attended
in tate, and Agostino Dati delivered an oration in the Pope’s Lonour. The
ceremonies concluded with a wonderful epresentation of the Assumption of the
Blessed Virgin, .ccompanied by music and recitations. In the final scene )ur
Lady of Siena appeared in glory, wearing her crown, vhile “devout voices
commended her sweet city to Pope 5ius.” 1 Meanwhile a
splendid embassy, consisting of :ight members, and supported by over a hundred
horse- nen, made its way to Rome to bear the congratulations of he Republic to
her illustrious son. Almost the sole dissi- lent note, amid the general
rejoicing, came from Florence.
I ere, hatred of Siena was a far stronger
sentiment than love if Italy, and the Florentines could not bring themselves to
ejoice over the honour which had befallen the rival Re- rnblic. “ ZEneas’s
election caused them much annoyance, ,nd when passers-by greeted them in the
streets, and in- 'oked God’s blessing upon them in the customary manner, hey
answered bitterly, ‘ He is occupied with the Sienese, .nd reserves all blessings
for them.’ ” 2
And what was Pius 11
feeling, while his name was on very lip, and his election was discussed through
the length .nd breadth of Europe ? To those who have attempted o understand the
mystery of his character, it does not eem unnatural that, after all his wiles
and struggles, he hould be filled with an overpowering sense of misgiving t the
thought of what lay before him. His was not an jnoble ambition; he coveted a
high position, not for its wn sake, but as a means to fuller activity. Now that
the
1 Agostino Dati, Opera, p. 85.
2 Lesca, p. 438 (MS. of Commentarii, lib.
i.).
Papacy was actually
his, the artist soul of him shrank back in terror lest he should fail to fill
the position worthily. Merely to be Pope did not satisfy him. Had he the
capacity or the physical strength to be a great Pope ? This was the question
that perplexed his mind as his friends hung round him, surprised and troubled
that he did not appear to share their happiness. “ Those who rejoice over so
exalted a position do not think of the toils and dangers,” he said mournfully.
“ Now I must show to others all that I have so often demanded of them.” 1
The situation which
confronted the new Pope was enough to daunt the bravest spirit. The death of
King Alfonso had upset the delicate equilibrium upon which the peace of Italy
depended, and there were signs of trouble on all sides, both at home and
abroad. Alfonso’s illegitimate son, Ferrante, had indeed succeeded in establishing
himself upon the Neapolitan throne, but his position was precarious in the
extreme. Calixtus iii had refused
to recognise his accession, and, shortly before his death, had claimed Naples
as a Papal fief, in the hope of bestowing the kingdom on his own nephew, Don
Pedro Borgia. Charles vu of France was pressing the claims of his cousin, Rene
of Anjou, and many of the Neapolitan barons were only awaiting the opportunity
to rise in support of the Angevin cause. It was clear that Ferrante would not
maintain his throne without a struggle, and when it came to fighting, what must
be the attitude of the Pope ? Pius was convinced that Ferrante’s triumph would
best serve the interests of the Papacy in Italy, and personal feeling for
Alfonso’s son also inclined him to this side. Yet to support the Aragonese
claimant would be to effect a revolution in Papal policy, and he would do so
at the risk of offending France—in the present condition of ecclesiastical
politics, the chief power in Europe which it was necessary for the Pope to
conciliate. German neutrality had long ceased to exist, but the Pragmatic
Sanction of Bourges
1 Campano, Pius II (Muratori, vol.
iii. pt. 2, p. 974).
still remained, a
thorn in the flesh of the restored Papacy, and one which Pius could only hope
to extract by exercising the utmost tact and diplomacy in his dealings with
France. At the same time, the Neapolitan trouble reacted upon the States of the
Church, and Piccinino invaded the Papal territories, seizing Assisi, Nocera,
and Gualdo in Ferrante’s name. Many of the Papal fortresses were in the hands
of Catalan governors, appointed by Calixtus 111, and Pius 11 was obliged to buy
these men out, at a heavy price, in order to regain possession of the
strongholds. The Castle of S. Angelo itself was occupied by Don Pedro Borgia
until it was ransomed by the Cardinals for 20,000 ducats. Thus there was work
enough for the Pope to do in restoring order in his own dominions; and, in the
midst of his numerous lesser cares, the cry of the suffering East rang
persistently in his ears. The Turks were advancing steadily into Europe;
whatever else he might do or fail to do, the Crusade must occupy the first
place in his policy.
Faced by so vast and
tangled a problem, it is not surprising that Pius faltered. The noble and
pathetic Encyclical, in which he announced his accession to the faithful
throughout Europe, is not merely a literary production but a genuine
expression of his feelings during these first anxious days. He has been called,
he says, “ we know not by what secret and dread decree,” to the throne of S.
Peter. " Conscious that we possessed neither the ability nor the strength
of body to bear worthily so heavy a burden, we pondered long over what we ought
to do. But we believe that the election of the Roman Pontiff proceeds, not from
man, but from Divine inspiration, which may not be resisted ; and we trust
that He who, from the first foundation of the Church, has chosen the weak of
this world to confound the strong, will endue us with His strength for the
work of government. Thus, in the spirit of humility, desirous of acting
rightly, and of serving rather than of commanding, we have bowed our necks to
the yoke of
Apostolic servitude.
. . . And we pray your devotion, earnestly to entreat Almighty God that He will
strengthen us by His grace and direct our ways.” 1
On 3 September, Pius
ii was crowned in S. Peter’s by Cardinal Colonna, and then rode in solemn
procession to the Lateran, the way being adorned by flags and banners, painted
for the occasion by Benozzo Gozzoli. Yet it was noticed that the Pope looked
careworn and sad in the midst of his splendour, and his nerves were shaken by a
riot among the excited Roman populace which imperilled his passage through the
city. But at last all was safely over, and Pius ii took up his residence that
same night in the Vatican. Here, once more, energy of spirits triumphed over
physical infirmity, and he threw himself into his great task with all his old
fire and enthusiasm. No Pope worked harder than he, no one composed so many of
his own Bulls or made so many speeches. Undaunted by physical pain, from which
he was rarely free, he went gallantly on his way, and only an occasional biting
of the lip, or half-smothered exclamation, betrayed something of what his
efforts cost him. As to the issue of his labours, the times in which he lived
offered no scope for a Gregory or an Innocent, and the warmest admirer of Pius ii must agree with him in acknowledging
that his imperfections were not confined to his feet. Yet if he fell short of
actual greatness, it cannot be denied that he filled his high position
worthily. During the six years of his Pontificate the throne of S. Peter was
occupied by a man with an ideal before him, an ideal which he strove persistently
to realise.
1 Pius ii dilectis filiis universitati studii
Parisiensis, 5 Sept. 1458 (iOpera, Ep. 384, p. 859).
THE CONGRESS OF
MANTUA
AMONG the many cares
which now took possession of the Pope’s mind, none was greater than his desire
to stir up Christian people against the Turks, and to wage war upon them.” 1
So wrote Pius ii at the beginning of the second book of his Commentaries ; and
on the very day after his election he gave proof of his zeal by summoning the
Cardinals to a conference upon the Eastern question. To the various envoys who
visited him during the next few weeks, it was evident that the Turkish war
occupied the first place in his thoughts. On 12 October he announced his
intention of summoning a Congress of Christian powers to Mantua,2 in
order to make plans for a Crusade. Few of the Cardinals welcomed the idea of
leaving their comfortable quarters in Rome for what would probably prove to be
a prolonged sojourn in a strange city, and they were sceptical also as to the
advantage to be gained by a gathering of the kind. But the Pope’s promptitude
had taken them by surprise ; for very shame they could only praise his zeal and
agree to his proposals. The next day the Bull Vocavit nos Pius, summoning the
Congress to Mantua on i June 1459, was read in a public consistory. It was
dispatched forthwith to the rulers of Europe, great and small, accompanied by
1 Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 33.
2 Udine was also named as an alternative,
but the Venetians feared or their commercial relations with the Turk, and
refused to allow the Congress to be held in their territories. Cf. Commentarii,
lib. ii. p. 42.
special letters
urging that envoys worthy of the occasion might be chosen, and given full
powers to negotiate upon matters relating to the Crusade.1
In view of his German
experiences, Pius n’s fervent belief in the efficacy of a European Congress is
not altogether easy to understand. Yet the many abortive Diets which he had
attended had not quenched his humanist faith in persuasion, and he was besides
profoundly convinced of the virtue of his own office. He took comfort from the
thought that the Congress of Regensburg had not been actively supported by
Nicholas v, and promised himself very different results when the Pope presided
over the Congress in person, and devoted all his efforts to ensuring its
success.
From this time
forward, preparations for the Pope’s departure occupied all thoughts in Rome.
The citizens were much disturbed at the prospect of the removal of the Curia,
and of the pecuniary loss which it would entail. It was rumoured that the
Congress of Mantua was a mere pretext for transferring the Papacy to Siena, or
even to Germany, and Pius received numerous petitions urging him to abandon the
project. In order to lessen the general discontent, he appointed Nicholas of
Cusa, who had just returned from Germany, Papal Vicar in Rome and the Patrimony
during his absence. Certain of the Cardinals and other officials also remained
behind, to carry on the traditions of the Curia and to prevent the Romans from
feeling themselves deserted. Antonio Piccolomini had already replaced Don Pedro
Borgia as Governor of S. Angelo, and the death of the latter, in December,
further helped to smooth the way of departure. It gave Pius an opportunity of
conciliating a powerful party in Rome by appointing Antonio Colonna Prefect in
Borgia’s stead.2
1 Cf. Pastor, vol. iii. pp. 24-5. The Bull
is given in Epistolae, ed. Mediol., Ep. 1.
2 Cf. Pastor,
vol. iii. p. 28, and Infessura, Diario della cittct di Roma (Muratori, iii.
pt. 2, p. 1138).
The barons of the
Campagna were summoned to the Pope’s presence to take a special oath of good
behaviour, and a treaty with Ferrante provided at least a temporary solution of
the Neapolitan problem. Pius agreed to recognise Ferrante as de facto King of
Naples, while Ferrante on his side promised to pay an annual tribute, and to
recall Piccinino from the States of the Church.1 Thus when the year
1459 dawned, Pius felt that he could leave Rome with a tolerably free mind. On
20 January he left the Vatican en route for Mantua.
The journey to Mantua
is the first of those progresses through Italy which form so characteristic and
attractive a feature of Pius n’s reign. In summer and winter, cold and heat,
the Papal cortege pursued its leisurely way. The record of these wanderings
fills the pages of the Commentaries, where Pius recalls the vivid impressions
of light and colour, city and landscape, scenes actually witnessed and sccnes
painted by historical association, which he received throughout the course of
his pilgrimages. When the Pope left Rome on this occasion, winter reigned over
the Campagna, and the crowds of weeping citizens, who accompanied him to the
Ponte Molle, were too much for his easily roused emotions.2 Yet in
spite of the mournful surroundings, Pius was in buoyant spirits. He was profoundly
impressed with the consciousness of his divine mission, and the prophets of
evil, who foretold the total loss of the States of the Church during his
absence, left him unmoved. “ God, in whose cause we set forth, will deal with
us more kindly,” he replied to them. “ And even if Divine mercy should permit
the loss you fear, we would rather be deprived of our temporal possessions,
which have been often lost and often recovered, than suffer injury to our
spiritual power, which would be hard to restore if it were once weakened.” 3
The change of scene, the open-air life, the enthusiasm with which he was
greeted everywhere, alike contributed to his
1 Raynaldus,
1458, Nos. 30-49.
2 Commentarii,
lib. ii. p. 38. 3 Ibid., p.
39.
enjoyment. He felt
that he was performing the clear duty of the Pope in a suitable and dignified
manner, and therefore he was well content.
Pius passed the first
night out of Rome as the guest of the Orsini at Campagnano. The next day he
crossed the Tiber by a new wooden bridge, gay with ivy and evergreens, and
proceeded up the valley into Umbria. All along the road crowds flocked to
welcome him. Priests, bearing the Host, invoked God’s blessing upon his
enterprise. Boys and girls, with laurel crowns on their heads and olive
branches in their hands, came out to wish him health and happiness. “ They who
could touch the fringe of his garments held themselves blessed.” 1
The fair cities through which he passed—Narni, Terni, Spoleto, Foligno—all
donned their festal array to do honour to the Head of Christendom- At Spoleto
he had the pleasure of spending four days with his sister Caterina, and from
thence he passed to Assisi, the city which is “ ennobled by the blessed Francis
... whodeemednothingricherthanpoverty.”2 He was lodged in the fortress
which Piccinino had made over to the Papacy only a few days before, and he
could not but marvel that “ a soldier of fortune should yield so well fortified
a place, and one so well adapted for disturbing the peace of Italy ; he could
only believe that it was the work of Divine mercy, which had put fear into
Piccinino’s heart lest the Congress of Mantua should be interrupted.” 3
From Assisi, Pius
crossed the Tiber valley to Perugia, where he arrived on I February, the Vigil
of the Feast of the Purification. The great Guelf city had not received a Papal
visit for nearly seventy years,4 and she laid herself out to
entertain her guest royally. “ Although winter raged fiercely, the city was as
gay as if spring had come.” 5
1 Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 41.
2 Ibid., p. 42. 3 Ibid., p. 42.
4 Not since Boniface ix fled from Perugia
in 1393 (Campano : Muratori, iii. pt. 2, p. 975). Cf. Heywood, Perugia, p. 279.
6 Commentarii,
lib. ii. p. 42.
In the course of his
three weeks’ stay in Perugia, Pius consecrated the Church of S. Domenico and
ordered “ a window of exceptional greatness behind the high altar to be filled
with glass.” 1 The Dominican Church, with its vast window, is
familiar to every visitor to Perugia, but few realise its connection with Pius
ii. Meanwhile the Pope was casting longing eyes in the direction of Siena. He
desired nothing more than to see his “ sweet country " again, but he felt
himself debarred from visiting her, owing to the quarrel which had already
arisen between himself and the Republic over the admission of the Monte dei
Gentiluomini to political power. Siena, however, was as anxious to receive the
Pope as he was to come, and the news that he was about to visit the hated
Florence proved too much for her powers of resistance.3 An embassy was
dispatched to Perugia entreating the Pope to honour his native city by his
presence, and expressing the desire of the Republic to meet his wishes with
regard to the Gentiluomini. With a glad heart, Pius accepted the olive-branch
and turned his steps into Tuscany. His way lay across Lake Trasimeno, which had
lately been swept by storms, and presented an angry and forbidding appearance
to the travellers. But when the Pope set foot on the vessel which was to carry
him to the Tuscan shore, “ suddenly, as if by Divine command, the waves were
stilled, and the sea became as a beast that had been tamed.” 3 All
that night and the following morning the calm continued, “ and the inhabitants
marvelled greatly that Trasimeno, which is stormy and intractable throughout
the winter, should thus make itself navigable for the Pope’s voyage.” * The
next few weeks were spent at Siena and Corsignano, where many happy meetings
took place, and many old ties were renewed.5 So pleasantly did the
days pass that it was not
1 Campano (Muratori, iii. pt. 2, p. 975).
2 Franciscus Thomasius, Historia Senensis
(Muratori, xx. p. 58).
3 Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 43. 4 Ibid., p. 44.
6 Cf.
below, Chapter XII. .
until 23 April,
nearly two months later, that Pius resumed the road to Mantua.
Throughout the time
that the Curia was in migration the ordinary course of business went on
unchecked. Embassies and letters flowed in at every stage of the journey,
gradually making Pius familiar with the details of his work, and enabling him
to gather up the diverse threads of Papal policy. At Perugia, the Pope’s
vassal, Federico, Count of Urbino, came to do homage and to take counsel about
the war which he was waging upon that unruly feudatory of the Church,
Sigismondo Malatesta, Lord of Rimini. To Siena came ambassadors from the kings
of Aragon, Hungary, and Bohemia and other European powers, to offer obedience
to the new Pope. Now on the road between Siena and Florence, Sigismondo
Malatesta, having been beaten by Federico of Urbino, sought the mediation and
protection of his over-lord. Other vassals of the Church also came to swell the
Papal cortege, and Pius made his entry into Florence in a litter, carried by
his attendant feudatories. Among them walked Galeazzo Maria Sforza, the
sixteen-year-old son of the Duke of Milan, who had been sent by his father to
escort the Pope to Mantua. Pius was pleased with this mark of attention, and
could not say too much in praise of the handsome, well-mannered, gifted boy. “
It was indeed astonishing to hear matured opinions coming from youthful lips,
and the thoughts of old age uttered by a beardless youth.”1 Such was
the humanist’s comment uponGaleazzo’s complimentary orations ; he delighted
also in the boyish grace with which Galeazzo sprang from his horse to kiss the
Pope’s feet, and in the eagerness with which he put his shoulder to the litter
and insisted on taking his share of work as a bearer.
When the procession
reached the gates of Florence, the magistrates of the Republic replaced the
feudatories as bearers, and carried Pius in state to the Duomo.
1 Commentarii, lib. ii. pp. 48-9,
A.t the sight of this
queen among cities, in all the fairness af her spring beauty, Pius forgot his
Sienese prejudices, and paid ungrudging tribute to the glories of Florence.1
The Duomo, the Baptistery of S. Giovanni, the Palazzo della Signoria, the Arno
with her stately bridges, the villas “full of delights,” smiling down from the
encircling hills, each in turn made their appeal to him. Above all, he
reverenced Florence as the home of famous men. In the city of Dante, Petrarch,
Boccaccio, and their illustrious followers, the humanist Pope, even though he
were a son of Siena, felt that he was treading on holy ground. Pius evinced
much interest in the uncrowned monarch of Florence, Cosimo dei Medici, but he
had no opportunity of intercourse with him. Whether from political motives or
through genuine illness, Cosimo kept his bed throughout the Pope’s visit.2
From Florence Pius
made his way across the steep passes of the Apennines to find a less pleasant
resting- place in the turbulent city of Bologna.3 This hotbed of
faction was a perpetual source of trouble to her nominal suzerain the Pope, and
Pius’s visit, on this occasion, was only made possible by the Duke of Milan,
who sent a force of cavalry to keep the peace during his sojourn within the
city. The sight of the Milanese soliders guarding the streets gave Pius a
feeling of insecurity which he never lost until the time came for his
departure. So electrical was the atmosphere that, when the city-orator
embellished his address of welcome with remarks more true than tactful on the
evils of civil strife, the citizens insisted on his exile. It was with
considerable relief that Pius quitted Bologna, and passed to the splendours
which waited him at Borso d’Este’s Court at Ferrara. The Pope’s friendship with
the Lord of Ferrara dated from Frederick ill’s Italian expedition, when Borso
had gratified Eneas by claiming him as a kinsman. Borso now hoped to profit by
this old
1
Commentarii, lib. ii. pp. 49—51- 2
Ibid., p. 50.
3 Ibid., pp. 54-6. Cf. also Pastor, vol.
iii. p. 56.
intimacy to obtain
the ducal title from his suzerain ; therefore he spared no pains upon the
entertainment of his guests. The Pope was lodged in the Este palace, while the
Cardinals were provided for among the Ferrarese nobility. The chief lords of
Romagna also came to Ferrara for the occasion, and all alike were entertained
at Borso’s expense throughout their stay in the city.1 Needless to
say, Pius took the keenest pleasure in the round of festivities provided for
him, and perhaps most of all he enjoyed his conversations with the two veteran
humanists Guarino and Aurispa.2 But, in the midst of his enjoyment,
he contrived to parry his host’s importunity, and to leave Ferrara without
committing himself upon the question of the ducal title.
The long and varied
progress was drawing to its close. On 25 May, Pius embarked upon Borso’s
sumptuously equipped vessel and sailed up the Po towards Mantua; meanwhile the
Marquis of Mantua’s ship plied alongside, ready to receive the traveller from
the moment of his entering Mantuan territory. The banks were lined with eager
spectators, the valleys rang with the sound of trumpets, and the stately
procession of boats, with banners fluttering in the breeze, made the river seem
like a forest.3 Pius passed the night of 26 May in the immediate
vicinity of Mantua, and on the following morning he made his solemn entry into
the city. At the head of the procession rode three of the Cardinals, followed
by twelve white, riderless horses with golden saddles and bridles. After them
were carried three banners, one bearing the Cross, another the keys of the
Church, and the third the arms of the Piccolomini. Behind walked the clergy of
Mantua, and then came another white horse, carrying the Host in a golden box
surrounded by lighted candles. A goodly company of nobles and ecclesiastics
preceded the Pope, and last of all came the little, bent figure, resplendent in
1 Diario
Ferraress (Muratori, xxiv. pp. 202—4).
2 Commentarii,
lib. ii. p, 57. 3 Ibid.,
p. 58,
purple and jewels,
the centre of the magnificent throng. “ The Holy Father is a little, rosy man,
with red rims to his eyes, about sixty years of age. . . . He is gouty and
cannot walk, so that he is obliged to be carried.” 1 Such is the
verdict of the Mantuan chronicler who watched the Pope make his entry into the
city " in great triumph,” and pass through the flower-bedecked streets to
the lodgings prepared for him in the Gonzaga palace.
The Mantuans, says
Pius, “ are a most courteous people, loving hospitality,” 2 and
nothing could exceed the enthusiasm of their welcome. Lodovico Gonzaga, the
cultivated Marquis, was proud of the honour done to his little State, and, as
the pupil of Vittorino da Feltre and the patron of Mantegna, he recognised a
kindred spirit in the humanist Pope. His German wife, Barbara of Brandenburg,
was also prepared to offer a cordial reception to one so closely connected with
her home and friends. With her was Bianca Maria Sforza, Duchess of Milan, and
her charming children, who had come to Mantua in order to greet the Pope on his
arrival. On the day after Pius ii’s entry
these ladies paid him a ceremonial visit, and Ippo- lita Sforza, a girl of
fourteen, delivered an elegant Latin oration, which pleased the Pope as much as
her brother’s performance had done at Florence a few weeks before. “ A goddess
could not have spoken better,” is the comment of one of the Cardinals who heard
her.3 The courtesy and enthusiasm of his hosts did much to obscure
the fact that no foreign princes or ambassadors were present to meet the Pope.
He had reached Mantua five days before his time. For the moment he could rest
content with his own achievement, and trust that the Congress of Mantua might
yet become the epoch-making gathering which his imagination pictured.
1 Schivenoglia, Cronaca di Mantova, p.
135 (Raccolta di cronisti e iocumenti storici Lombardi inediti, vol. ii.
Milano, 1857).
2 Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 58.
3Scarampo
to F. Strozzi, Mantua, 2 June 1459. Cf. Pastor, vol. iii.
i. 60.
On i June, High Mass
in the Dnomo opened the proceedings of the Congress. At the conclusion of Mass
Pius showed by a sign from the throne that he wished to address the assembled
multitude. In a weak, faltering voice he began by expressing his deep
disappointment at finding so small a company present to meet him at Mantua. “We
had hoped, brethren and sons, to find many envoys of kings when we came to this
town. Few are here, and we see that we were mistaken; the devotion of
Christians to their religion is not as great as we believed.” Yet the Pope, who
in spite of age and sickness had “ despised the Apennines and the winter,” was
not prepared to yield at the first sign of defeat. He had resolved to remain at
his post so long as there was any hope of fresh arrivals, and he begged those
already at Mantua to pray that the powers of Christendom might yet be moved to
send representatives to the Congress. “ If they come, we will consult with them
over the Commonwealth; if not, we shall be obliged to return home, and to bear
the lot which God sends us. We will never desert the defence of the Faith so
long as life and strength remain to us ; nor shall we falter if we are required
to lay down our life for the sheep.” 1
So began the weary
weeks of waiting, a time of severe trial to anyone of Pius’s eager, impatient
disposition. He spent the long days in composing letters, of ever increasing
urgency, which went out from Mantua to every comer of Europe, imploring
Christian powers to attend the Congress. “ We expected the princes to come
hither, or at least to send their envoys if they could not come themselves,
and we are greatly astonished that none have arrived.” 2 So wrote
Pius to the Bishop of Eichtstadt. To the city of Bologna he wrote : “ Again and
yet again we exhort you in the Lord, and straitly charge you to neglect
1 Commentarii, lib. iii. p. 60. Cf. also
Mansi, Pius II Orationes, vol. ii. p. 206.
2 Pius 11 to John, Bishop of Eichtstadt,
31 May 1459 (Pastor, vol. iii. Appendix 11).
your duty no longer,”
1 and a week later to the Duke of Savoy, “ Up to the present day we
have not ceased to expect the envoys which you have so long promised to send.” 2
But his pleading fell on deaf ears. The Christian powers regarded the Crusade
as an excellent cause, which had their heartfelt approval, but for which they
were not prepared to make sacrifices. They wished to avoid attending the
Congress, lest their approval should involve practical consequences, and they
should find themselves committed to an expensive foreign war in which they had
no personal interest. As early as January 1459, the Emperor had made up his
mind not to come to Mantua, and the envoy who bore his excuses gave a variety
of reasons which made it necessary for Frederick to remain at home. Pius, however,
was accustomed to dealing with Frederick in. “ Your answer . . . meets neither
our expectations nor the necessities of the case,” he retorted. “ If you stay
away, there is no one who will not think himself sufficiently excused. For the
honour of the German nation, for the glory of your name, for the welfare of the
Christian religion ... we entreat you to reconsider the matter and to incline
your mind towards attending the Congress.” 3 Knowing the Emperor as
he did, it is hard to believe that Pius ever thought he would come to Mantua in
person, but he probably hoped that plainspeaking might frighten the timid
Emperor into sending a distinguished embassy. Great was his vexation when the
Imperial embassy arrived headed by three Court officials, the Bishop of
Trieste, Johann Hinderbach, and Heinrich Senftleben. They were excellent and
capable men in their way, and the two last were personal friends of the Pope,
but they possessed neither the rank nor the influence which would enable them
to speak with weight at
1Pius 11 to
Bologna, 28 July 1459 (Pastor, vol. iii. Appendix 17).
2 Pius 11 to Louis of Savoy, 6 Aug. 1459
(Pastor, vol. iii. Appendix 20).
3 Pius 11 [to Emperor Frederick 111, 26
Jan. 1459 (Pastor, vol. iii. Appendix 5).
the Congress. Pius
flatly refused to acknowledge them as the Emperor’s representatives at Mantua,
and wrote to demand that more honourable ambassadors should be sent in their
place. His letter to Frederick hi was couched in less stinging words than the
Commentaries would have us believe, but it was sufficiently indicative of his
displeasure. “ It is small honour to you,” he wrote, “ that, in so high a
cause, your envoys should not yet be here. . . . We exhort you to send
ambassadors with full powers, and of such rank that they can represent your
person worthily at this Congress. . . . Those whom you have already sent to us
see clearly that they are not fitted for such a task and are gladly returning
to you.” 1 After five months of waiting, the Pope’s persistency was
rewarded by the arrival of the Margrave Charles of Baden and two Bishops to act
as the Emperor’s representatives. Other princes followed the Imperial lead, and
before the end of the year a respectable contingent of German ambassadors was
gathered in Mantua. Yet it soon transpired that all these envoys treated the
essential object of the Congress as a matter of secondary importance. Dragged
to Mantua by the Pope’s pertinacity, they seized the opportunity for airing
their own grievances against the Papacy, and for furthering their own
interests. The attitude of the Germans is typical of that of other nations. The
Congress of Mantua was never a Congress in the true sense of the word. It was,
rather, a succession of embassies from Italian and ultramontane powers to the
Pope at Mantua. Coming at the beginning of Pius n’s pontificate, it was a
valuable introduction to the details of European policy in their relation to
the Papacy, and it did much to make him deal with them successfully. Yet, as a
Congress on the Eastern question, it was almost as great a failure as its
forerunner of Regensburg.
1 Pius II to Frederick in, i June 1459
(Voigt, vol. iii. p. 50). Cf. also Commentarii, lib. iii. p. 65, and Pastor,
vol. iii. pp. 63 seq. Apparently the Bishop of Trieste and his colleagues
remained at Mantua as Imperial agents in spite of what was said about their
departure.
Some weeks elapsed
before even these half-hearted embassies began to struggle into Mantua.
Meanwhile Pius had to cope with the clamours of the Eastern envoys who thronged
his palace, piteously demanding aid against the Turk, and with the murmurs of
the Cardinals, many of whom were only anxious to find an excuse for returning
to Rome. “ The place was marshy and unhealthy,” they complained, “ the heat
was raging, there was no good wine or food to be had, many people were ill with
fever, and soon there would be many dead ; there was nothing to be heard but
the croaking of frogs.” 1 Chief among the grumblers was Cardinal
Scarampo, who went about “ among his household, and even in the circle of the
prelates, declaring that the Pope’s schemes were childish, and that he showed
little experience or prudence in leaving Rome and wandering among strange
hosts, thinking to move kings to war by his exhortations and to destroy the invincible
forces of the Turk ” 2 Ere long Scarampo betook himself to Venice,
where he did his best to prejudice the Venetians against the Crusade. Old
Cardinal Jacopo Tebaldo, also, waxed eloquent over the Pope’s folly in coming
to Mantua and putting money into the pockets of strangers while his own Romans
were left in poverty. “ How true is the popular saying that it is the worst
wheel of a chariot which creaks the loudest ! ” is Pius’s comment upon his
detractor. “ Jacopo did not attain to the Cardinalate on his own merits but on
those of his brother, who was the doctor of Pope Calixtus.” 3
In spite of
discouragement and disapproval the Pope stuck to his post, and in the end his
perseverance did not go unrewarded. Many powers had doubted whether he would
really come to Mantua, and had postponed the question of sending envoys until
after his arrival. Others had procrastinated, in the hope that the Pope would
grow tired of waiting and that the news of his departure would rid them of an
irksome duty. But the Pope’s staying
1 Commentarii, lit), iii. p. 61.
2 MS. of Commentarii, lib.
iii.; Cugnoni, p. 195. 1
Loc. cit.
powers were stronger
than those of the princes. On the 18th of August1 the monotonous
spell of waiting was broken by the arrival of an embassy from the Duke of
Burgundy. A brilliant company, headed by the Duke’s nephew John of Cleves, and
Jean de Croy, had entered Italy a week or two earlier, amid “ very great rain,
and hail like stones falling from heaven.” 2 Francesco Sforza met
the envoys outside Milan and conducted them to the splendid apartments which he
had prepared for them in his palace, “ with a good fire to revive them, which
was indeed a welcome sight.” 3 So agreeably were the Burgundians
entertained that it was some time before they left Milan for Mantua. When at
last they arrived at their destination, John of Cleves refused to discuss the
Crusade until he had obtained satisfaction in a matter at issue between himself
and the Archbishop of Cologne. The town of Soest having rebelled against the
Archbishop, Pius 11 had issued an admonition to the citizens to return to their
rightful allegiance. But John had taken Soest under his protection, and
demanded that the admonition should be withdrawn. “ The matter so fell out that
it was necessary either to forsake the path of justice for the time being, or
to dissolve the Congress before it had accomplished any work. For if Cleves
departed in anger many others would not come to the Congress, but would
greedily seize the opportunity for remaining at home. The Pope was anxious, and
uncertain what to do ; it was grievous to him to deny justice to those who
asked it of him, yet he considered it less dangerous to suspend justice than to
leave the Catholic Faith undefended. ... He therefore withdrew the admonition,
to satisfy Cleves, and promised Cologne to renew it after these matters
relating to the Faith had been concluded.”4 So the
1 Cf.
Pastor, vol. iii. p. 71.
2,Matthieu de Coussy, Chronique, p. 216 (Choix de
Chroniques et Memoires sur Vhistoire de France, ed. Buchon, vol. viii.).
3 Op.
cit., p. 217. 4
Commentarii, lib. iii. p. 68.
temporalities of the
Archbishop were sacrificed to the crusading cause, but, even after this
concession, Cleves was loath to commit himself to any promises of aid. After much
negotiation, he at last agreed that Burgundy should send 2000 horse and 4000
foot into the field. Then, to the great disappointment of the Pope, he and his
colleagues left Mantua, regardless of Pius’s entreaties that they should remain
to confer with the other embassies, whose arrival he was daily expecting.
The next episode in
the history of Pius ii’s sojourn
at Mantua began with the arrival of Francesco Sforza. One day in September a
sumptuous fleet of forty-seven vessels sailed up the Mincio, and crowds turned
out to gaze upon the soldier-Duke who had made all Italy ring with the fame of
his exploits. Pius was delighted to see Sforza again and to renew the
friendship which had been begun, ten years before, in the camp outside Milan.
The Duke was fast approaching his sixtieth year, yet “ he rode like a youth,”
and seemed to the Pope to be in every way worthy of his high position.1
Sforza’s coming was of real value to the Congress, and the ceremony of his
reception was made as impressive as possible. Pius ii’s former master, Francesco Filelfo, acted as spokesman
for the Duke, and the Pope himself made the answering oration, in which he
called Filelfo “ the Attic Muse,” and extolled Sforza as a true Crusader — a
model for all Christian princes.2 For all that, it had necessitated
considerable pressure on the Pope’s part to bring Sforza to Mantua, and it may
be doubted whether he would have come at all, had it not been for his anxiety
to secure Pius 11 finally for the cause of King Ferrante in Naples. Sforza was
ready enough to give the Pope a little encouragement in his laudable endeavour
to drive the Turk from Europe, if by so doing he could obtain Papal aid in
keeping the French out of Italy.
The news that the
Duke of Milan was in Mantua roused
1 Commentarii,
lib. iii. p. 72. 2 Ibid.,
p. 73.
the Italian powers to
action. Envoys from Florence, Venice, Genoa, and other States at last made
their appearance, and the Sienese ambassador could report that he found
himself in “ a fair Mantua . . . adorned by the presence of many Bishops,
Lords, Ambassadors, and Courtiers.” 1 On 26 September, nearly four
months after the opening of the Congress, the first formal sitting was held. A
Mass of the Holy Spirit was sung in the Duomo, in the presence of “ a very great
number of people of every nation,” and at its conclusion the Pope delivered “ a
long and most elegant oration which lasted for the space of two hours.” 2
Many feared that the Pope’s voice would not be equal to the strain, but
enthusiasm carried him triumphantly over physical disabilities. “ Although he
was suffering at that time from a grievous cough, he was so aided by Divine
power that he did not cough once, or experience the slightest hindrance in
speaking.” 3 This oration ranks among the best and most famous of
Pius n’s rhetorical efforts. All his deep sympathy with the Eastern Christians,
all his learning, all his oratory, were thrown into his impassioned utterances.
He appealed in turn to the pride, to the pity, and to the ambition of his hearers,
determined to leave no note unsounded that might awaken a responsive thrill in
the hearts of the people. To Pius, all on fire with zeal for the holy cause, it
seemed almost impossible that his audience should remain cold. As he looked
down upon the crowded Cathedral his thoughts flew from the hard Renaissance
world to the bygone ages of faith. He remembered the inspired gathering at
Clermont, four centuries earlier. “ Would that there were here to-day,” he
cried, “ Godfrey or Baldwin, Eustace, Hugh the Great, Bohemund, Tancred, and
others who, in past days, won back Jerusalem. They
1 Dispatch of N. Severino, 25 Sept.
i45gJ(Pastor, vol. iii. p. 75).
2 Francesco Sforza to his wife, Mantua, 26
Sept. 1459 (cf. Pastor, vol. iii. Appendix 27, from Archivio di Stato, Milano).
3 Commentarii, lib. iii. p. 82.
would not have
suffered us to speak so long, but rising from their seats, as once they did
before our predecessor Urban ii,
they would have cried with glad voice, ‘ Deus lo vult, Deus lo vult! ’ ” 1
“ If an appreciation
of eloquence had borne any practical fruit, the Turk would soon have been
driven back into Asia.” 2 Many praised the Pope’s speech, but few
were prepared to act upon his exhortations. On the following day a conference
was held upon the ways and means of carrying out the war. Here the tedious
haggling over details and the reluctance of the envoys to commit themselves to
any definite scheme contrasted sadly with the stirring scenes of the day
before. Sforza, like most old soldiers, was always pleased to give advice on
military questions. At his suggestion it was agreed that Hungary and other
countries on the Turkish border should provide troops for the Crusade, Italy
and other more distant States supplying the money. The Venetians pronounced
that thirty galleys and eight smaller vessels should suffice for the naval
operations, and Pius summed up the discussion by saying that some 50,000 troops
would be required, which could be paid for by a tax of a tenth on the revenues
of the clergy, a thirtieth on those of the laity, and a twentieth on all the
possessions of the Jews, to be levied for three years in succession. “ All
approved of the Pope’s decision,” 3 but, when Pius tried to make the
various representatives sign the proposals, it was soon seen that the scheme
was theoretical rather than practical. The Florentines had to be won over by a
separate agreement, and the Venetians flatly refused to sign, except on
conditions that were obviously impossible. Meanwhile, the Duke of Milan felt
that he had done his duty by the Congress, and was anxious to depart. On 3
October he left Mantua, the other envoys began to melt away, and Pius could
only make the best of
1 Mansi,
Pii II Orationes, vol. ii. p. 9. Cf. also Opera, Ep. 397.
!
Creighton, History of the Papacy, vol, iii. p. 224.
3 Commentarii, lib, iii.
p. 84. _
the small result
which he had obtained. Outwardly he maintained a brave face, but in a letter to
Carvajal he reveals his bitter disappointment. “ To confess the truth,” he
writes, “ we do not find such zeal in the minds of Christians as we hoped. We
find few who have a greater care for public matters than for their own
interests.” 1 In the middle of October Pius took a brief holiday, in
which he stayed at the venerable sanctuary of S. Maria delle Grazie, five miles
outside Mantua. A record of his visit is preserved in the life-size effigy
which has its place in the remarkable series of statues of famous men who have
visited the Church.2 His companions now urged that he had done all
that was possible at Mantua, and that the time had come to return to Rome. But
Pius was determined to await the arrival of the French and German embassies,
and after four days he was back at his post.
Before the end of the
month the envoys of Archduke Albert of Austria, the Emperor’s brother, reached
Mantua. Save for the Emperor’s discredited representatives, they were the first
Germans to appear at the Congress, but the Pope’s pleasure in their arrival was
spoiled by the sight of his old enemy, Gregory Heimburg. When the envoys had an
audience with the Pope, Gregory acted as their chief spokesman. It was
unnecessary, he began, for him to sound the praises of the house of Hapsburg.
Had not “ the famed and laurel-crowned /Eneas ” won the highest praise for an
oration on the subject on an earlier occasion? For himself, he would be content
“ with dry words and ungamished speech.”3 Heimburg was even rude
enough to keep his hat on during the audience. He must be excused, he said,
from uncovering his head, for, if he did so, the cold would spoil the effect of
his oration. This act of
1 Raynaldus, Annales, 1459, No. 78.
2 Pius ii's
statue bears the following inscription :—•
“ Dopo le cure dolorosi e gravi,
Chiuso il concilio, il successor di Piero,
A te porge Maria ambe le chiavi.” s Voigt, vol. iii. pp-l77 set}.,
from Cod. rase. lat. 522, fol. 156,161, Munich,
discourtesy and the
thinly veiled sarcasm of his words were proof that Heimburg had come to Mantua
intending mischief. Throughout his stay he was “ a sower of much discord.”1
Convinced himself of the Pope’s duplicity, he contrived to foster the opinion
that the Crusade was a mere pretext for raising money, and the failure of the
German envoys to arrive at any common understanding was largely his work. He
also helped to create ill-feeling between Pius and his former pupil Sigismund,
Duke of Tyrol, who came to Mantua in order to refer a private quarrel with the
Bishop of Brixen to the Pope’s judgment. Heimburg introduced Sigismund to the
Papal presence in a speech which contained covert allusions to discreditable
episodes in the Pope’s earlier life, when the Emperor’s Italian secretary had
aided the youthful Sigismund in his love adventures. The name of ZEneas, he
said, was deeply imprinted on Sigismund’s mind “by sweet-sounding poems and by
many unforgettable letters,” and he rejoiced to think that such a “jewel of
eloquence” adorned the Apostolic See. 2 The outcome of the
interview was that Sigismund and the Pope parted from each other sore and
angry, and that the Brixen quarrel dragged out its wearisome course during the
greater part of Pius n’s pontificate. By the time that Heimburg left Mantua he
was amply avenged for the mortifications which he had endured in the summer of
1446, when he paced restlessly over Monte Giordano beneath the malicious eye of
ZEneas Silvius.
With regard to the
Crusade, the utmost that Pius could obtain from the Germans was a renewal of
the promises made at former Diets. All details were left to be settled by
representatives of the German nation and the Papal Legate, in conference at
Numb erg.3 Cardinal Bessarion, one of the few whole-hearted
supporters of the Pope’s crusading policy, was appointed Legate for this
1 Commentarii, lib. iii. p. 90.
2 Voigt, iii. pp. 100 seq., from the
Munich MS. (Cod. lat. 522, fol. 61).
3 Raynaldus, Annales, 1459, No. 72, and
1460, No. 18,
purpose, and Pius set
a seal upon the deliberations by nominating the Emperor as general of the
crusading army. The phlegmatic Frederick could hardly be considered as an ideal
Crusader, but he was empowered to appoint some other prince in his stead, and
the man upon whom Pius had set his heart was Albert Achilles of Brandenburg.
Pius had long been urging Albert’s attendance at the Congress, and his arrival
in Mantua, at the close of 1459, shed a lustre over the final proceedings.
Albert’s manners had improved since the days when he had shocked Eneas’s sense
of decorum by bursting in upon the Emperor at Neustadt,1 and, as the
head of the Imperial party in Germany, he was anxious to be on good terms with
the Pope. Many were his protestations of zeal for the Holy War, to which Pius
replied by hailing him as " the German Achilles " and bestowing on
him a consecrated sword with which to do battle against the Turk.2
In midst
of these somewhat profitless negotiations with the Germans, a French embassy at
last arrived in Mantua. From the point of view of the Crusade the Pope's
deliberations with the French were as unsatisfactory as all the proceedings of
the Congress, but in matters nearer home he achieved a success which did much
to strengthen his position in Europe. Two facts accounted for the strained
relations which existed between the Pope and the French king. On the one hand,
the Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges still remained in force, a standing menace to
the Pope’s authority over the Church in France. On the other hand, the Pope had
defied the claims of the French prince, Ren6 of Anjou, by acknowledging
Ferrante of Aragon as King of Naples. Thus all parties were in a state of
nervous apprehension when the French embassy rode into Mantua on 14 November.
Pius feared that the French would throw down the gauntlet by refusing to make
the customary obedience to the new Pope, and the French on their side were
equally
1 Cf, above, p. 124, 2 Qommentarii, lib. iii. p. 91,
uncertain of the
reception which would be accorded to them.1
To the relief of
every one, the first audience passed off without a hitch, and the obedience of
the French nation was proffered amid a great display of oratory on the part of the
Bishop of Paris and of the Pope.2 But the crux of the situation was
reached on 30 November, when the French envoys came before the Pope to plead
the cause of Rene of Anjou. The Bailli of Rouen was the spokesman of France,
and he dwelt upon the services rendered by his nation to the Apostolic See, in
return for which, he said, “ Pius had spurned the noble blood of the Lilies,
and had preferred that of Aragon.” 3 Now he called upon the Pope to
annul his “ unjust and ill- considered ” investiture, and to exalt the rightful
heir, Rene of Anjou, to the throne of Naples. Pius was thus forced to declare
himself, but he refused to reply until he had consulted the Cardinals, and
eventually postponed his answer for several days on the plea of ill-health. The
French regarded this as a mere excuse for gaining time, but Pius tells us that
he was “ seized by severe pain in the stomach and by a racking cough.” 4
At last, “ weak and oppressed with bitter pain, the Pope left his bedchamber
for the audience hall, and seated himself upon his throne, pale and anxious.”
As he began to speak his strength revived, and the words flowed from his lips.
He “ sang the praises of the French far better than the Bailli,” and explained
that, in investing Ferrante, he had merely recognised the status quo, expressly
safeguarding the rights of Anjou.6 Then, by a clever stroke of
1 Cf.
Nicholas Petit (D’Achery, Spicilegium, vol. iii. pp. 806 seq.) : “ Croy que
nostre dit Saint Pere aura matiere pour lever les oreilles. Plusieurs de
Messieurs les Cardinaulx qui encores ne savent l’efiect de la matiere font
doubte de Tissue.”
2 Commentarii,
lib. iii. p. 86; Mansi, Orationes, vol. ii. p. 31. An alternative
oration which the Pope had prepared in the event of the French not proffering
obedience is to be found in Mansi, vol. ii. p. 219.
3 Commentarii,
lib. iii. p. 87. 4 Loc.
cit.
6 Loc.
cit., and Mansi, vol. ii. pp. 40 seq.
12
diplomacy, he turned
the subject, and raised the whole question of the Pragmatic Sanction. The
French King complained of the Pope’s action in Naples, but the Pope’s grievance
against the French was far greater. They had promulgated a law against the
Apostolic See which hung like thick darkness over the land and imperilled the
souls of the people. In vain the ambassadors strove to defend themselves. “
They employed no argument that the Pope did not promptly dissipate ; ashamed,
confused, and silent, they showed that they were vanquished.” 1 The
Cardinals were filled with delight at this vigorous championship of the rights
of the Papacy. “ Never,” they said, “ in the memory of our fathers, have words
been spoken so worthy of a Pope.” Pius, meanwhile, returned cheerfully to his
bed-chamber, to find that he had made a complete recovery ; “ the warmth of his
oration had driven all cold from his body.” J
When the French and
German embassies had come and gone, Pius ii’s
business at Mantua was well-nigh completed. All that remained was to put
the coping- stone upon his work. On 18 January 146a he published the Bull
Execrabilis, which condemned the practice of appealing from the Pope to a
future General Council as an “ execrable abuse, unheard of in former times.”
All such appeals were pronounced invalid, and any person who made or in any way
promoted them was declared excommunicate.3 The Bull Execrabilis was
a strange edict to emanate from a former champion of the Conciliar movement.
But Pius had learned, by bitter experience, what abuses appeals to a future
Council could be made to serve. He knew that the Conciliar movement was dead,
and that its principles had become mere instruments of obstruction in the
hands of a self-seeking opposition. Thus he seized the opportunity to
strengthen the monarchical constitution of the Church, and to
1 Commentarii, lib. iii. p. 88. 1 Ibid., p. 87.
J Ibid.,
pp. 91-2 ; Raynaldus, 1460, No. 10.
vindicate the Papal
authority. By this means alone could he hope to realise the aims of the
Congress of Mantua, and to unite Christendom beneath the crusading banner.
The Congress of
Mantua closed, as it had begun, with High Mass in the Cathedral. At the
conclusion of the service, Bulls were read decreeing a three years’ Crusade
against the Turk, and ordering prayers for its success to be offered every
Sunday in all Christian churches. Indulgences were granted to all who took part
in the Crusade for eight months, or who paid and equipped a soldier for the
same period; decrees were also published embodying the schemes for raising
money which had been passed at the September session.1 Then, in a
farewell speech, Pius summed up the results of the Congress.2 “ We
confess,” he said, “ that all that we hoped has not been achieved, yet neither
has all been left undone . . . nay, far more has been done than was prophesied
by many.” After exhorting the faithful to do their utmost, and to leave the
rest in God’s hands, he left the Papal throne, and kneeling before the high
altar, chanted, amidst tears and sighs, a Litany which he had arranged for the
occasion. The whole body of clergy devoutly responded, and the Litany ended
with a solemn prayer for God’s blessing upon the Crusade—
“ Almighty and
Everlasting God, who in Thy mercy hast redeemed the human race by the Precious
Blood of Thy Beloved Son, and hast raised the world lying in darkness to the
light of the Gospel, we beseech Thee that all faithful Christian princes and
people may, in this time of visitation, so valiantly take up arms against the
impious Turks, scorners of the Gospel, and all other enemies of the Saving
Cross, that, fighting for the glory of Thy Name, and upheld by the strength of
Thy arm, they may win victorious trophies for Thy Church.” 3
1 Cf. Raynaldus, 1460, Nos. 1-7. a Mansi, vol. ii. p. 78.
“Mansi, Orationes,
vol. ii. pp. 84-6, where the Litany is also given. Cf. Commentarii, lib. iii.
p. 93.
Rising from his
knees, the Pope dismissed the assembly with his blessing. On 19 January he left
Mantua.
The Congress of
Mantua, if it had done nothing else, had given Pius 11 an insight into the
exact nature of his position. By the time that his long sojourn in Mantua drew
to its close, the threads of Papal policy were all in his hands. The chief
problems of his reign had been touched upon, friends and foes alike had
revealed themselves; and for a clear-sighted politician like himself, it was
not hard to estimate the measure of success which he would achieve. As ruler of
the States of the Church, and one of the chief territorial powers in Italy, he
had every reason for encouragement. Francesco Sforza had given ample proof of
the support which he was prepared to offer to one who saw eye to eye with him
over Neapolitan affairs, and Milan and the Papacy, together, had every hope of
bringing their championship of the House of Aragon to a triumphant conclusion.
As spiritual sovereign of Europe, Pius could look back on the Congress with
some satisfaction. He had raised the prestige of the Papacy in the sight of
every European nation, and, more especially with regard to France, he had given
bold expression to its claims. If the Pragmatic Sanction were once abandoned,
the last trace of the Conciliar movement would be wiped out, and the restored
Papacy would issue forth in new glory from the period of humiliation through
which it had passed. In one aspect alone, and in that which appealed most strongly
to all that was best and noblest in his nature, Pius could derive little
satisfaction from the proceedings of the Congress. As champion of the
crusading cause, his sole source of inspiration lay in his own high courage. By
sheer force of will, he had shamed Europe into some semblance of activity. Yet
it was clear that the fair show of preparation would vanish at the first
contact with reality, and that the Congress of Mantua was but the first act of
the tragedy which was to culminate five years later at Ancona. Thus the
Congress is not only an introduction, it is also an
1. MEDAL BY ANDREA GUACCIALOTTL (OBVERSE)
PORTRAIT OF PIUS II
2. GOLD DUCAT OF PIUS II’S PONTIFICATE.
(REVERSE) 5. PETER WITH
KEY AND BOOK
3- GOLD DUCAT OF PIUS
IIS PONTIFICATE- (OBVERSE) PICCOLOMINI ARMS SURMOUNTED BY TIARA AND CROSSED
KEYS
4 MEDAL BY ANDREA GUACCIALOTTI. (REVERSE)
THE PELICAN IN HER
PIETY
Inscription : ALES UT HEC CORDIS FAVI DE SANGUINE NATOS
British
Museum
epitome of Pius n’s
reign. Prosperity in all things Italian, comparative success in the affairs of
Europe, in the East failure which the personality of the Pope alone prevented
from being absolute. And both the smaller and the larger picture are set
against a background of leisurely journeys and pleasant sight-seeing which
lends to them a peculiar and fragrant atmosphere. The magic of Italian scenery
'illumines the record of these Papal pilgrimages, in which Pius, the artist and
the man of letters, enters upon his heritage.
PIUS II AND ITALY
BEFORE Pius left
Mantua war had broken out in Naples, and many eyes were turned towards the Pope
to see what part he would play in the struggle. He had invested Ferrante of
Aragon with the Neapolitan crown, but this, as he was at pains to explain to
the French envoys, was merely a temporary expedient. It was one thing for the
Pope to recognise the existing King of Naples in order to be able to leave Rome
without fear of reprisals from a hostile neighbour; it was quite another to fly
in the face of Papal tradition, and to uphold Ferrante against an Angevin
claimant who had actually made his appearance in Italy. N evertheless, this was
the course which Pius n had made up his mind to pursue. The events of the last
year had convinced him that the cause of peace and the welfare of the States of
the Church both called for an alliance between the Papacy and the strong powers
of Italy. As an Italian prince the friendship of Francesco Sforza was more
valuable to him than that of France, while the presence of a strong and
friendly power in Naples was, from his point of view, the best of the
alternatives which presented themselves. The old policy of the Popes had been
to encourage the French claims to Naples, in order to keep the kingdom weak and
incapable of offence to the States of the Church. Yet past experience had shown
that disturbance in Naples inevitably spread to the Papal territories, and
that what the Pope chiefly required in the ruler of Naples was a
guardian of the
peace. “ Can Rene drive out Piccinino from the States of the Church ? ” Pius
asked the Archbishop of Marseilles when he pleaded the Angevin cause in Rome.
The Archbishop could only reply in the negative. “ Then what have we to expect
from him if he cannot help us in our distress ? We need a man in the kingdom
who can protect both himself and us.” 1 So Pius threw in his lot
with Ferrante, and the Neapolitan succession war takes the first place in the
history of his reign in Italy.
From the moment of
Alfonso’s death, the great feudatories of the kingdom, notably Marino da
Marzano, Prince of Rossano, and Giovanni Antonio Orsini, Prince of Taranto,
determined not to acquiesce in the rule of Ferrante. The man of whom Philippe
de Commines wrote that he was “ without grace or mercy ” had already won an
evil reputation in the Neapolitan kingdom, and the appearance of benevolence
which marked the early days of his rule did not deceive the barons as to his
true nature. Their eyes had turned first towards Aragon, in the hope that
Alfonso’s brother and successor, John 11, might be induced to challenge the
right of his bastard nephew to the throne of Naples. Failure in this direction
threw them back upon a less powerful candidate—John of Calabria, the son and
heir of the French claimant, Ren6 of Anjou. In the autumn of 1459, this Prince,
“ active both in mind and body,” 2 landed in Neapolitan territory,
and the smouldering fires of rebellion burst into flames at the signal of his
coming. He brought with him a fleet of twenty-four vessels, which had been
built at Avignon out of the proceeds of the Turkish tithes raised in France and
were destined for the East. John, however, did not scruple to “ arm against
Christians ships built for the protection of Christians,” 3 and the
Cardinal of Avignon was a party to the theft. The Angevin claimant Was greeted
on his landing by the Prince of Rossano “ with such affection and rejoicing as
might have been shown to a
1 Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 36.
2 Ibid., lib. iv. p. 94. 3 Lop. pit,
god come to earth.” 1
He promptly won the Prince’s goodwill by standing godfather to his infant son,
and the fame of his talents and affability spread far and wide. Meanwhile
Ferrante was absent in Calabria, where rebellion had already broken out, and,
but for the promptitude of his Queen, he would have returned homejto find the
Angevin banners floating over Naples. His difficulties were enormously
increased by the fact that the Prince of Taranto, as Grand Constable of the
Kingdom, had the bulk of the military forces in his hands. All depended on the
attitude of the other Italian powers, and Ferrante besought them to lose no
time in sending aid if they wished to keep the foreigner out of Italy. The Pope
and the Duke of Milan responded to the appeal. When the campaign of 1460 began,
Ferrante was aided by the Milanese forces under Alessandro Sforza, Lord of
Pesaro, and by a Papal contingent under Simonetto da Castello. The influence
of Milan and the Papacy had also secured for him the services of the famous
condottiere, Federico, Count of Urbino, the kinsman of Sforza and the vassal of
the Pope.
Pius paid a second
visit to Florence on his journey south, and on this occasion he had an
interview with Cosimo dei Medici, who expressed great surprise at the Pope’s
action in embroiling himself with France on Ferrante’s account. “ It would not
conduce to the freedom of Italy if the French obtained the kingdom,” was the
Pope’s pertinent reply; “ in protecting Ferrante, Italy is protecting herself.
Moreover, honesty demands that we should do this, owing to the treaties that
were made with Alfonso ; it is not permitted to us to break faith, as others
do.” 2 This was a word in season to Cosimo, who had entered into
alliance with Naples at the Peace of Lodi (1454), and yet was not moving a finger
in Ferrante’s defence. His personal opinion on the Neapolitan question probably
coincided with Pius ii’s, but he
could not turn
1 Costanzo,
Storia del regno di Napoli, vol. iii. p. 194.
2 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 96.
Florence from her
traditional French policy. So “ Cosimo praised the Pope’s decision, and
confessed that the mass of mankind will do nothing for the sake of justice
unless constrained by expediency or fear. He then asked, not without modesty,
that his nephew might be numbered among the Cardinals.” 1
From Florence Pius
made his way to Siena, where he intended to spend the summer. He arrived on 31
January 1460, and took up his residence in his beloved city to watch the course
of the Neapolitan war. Some days before his arrival in Siena, he learned that
the condottiere, Jacopo Piccinino, had joined the Angevin faction, and was
hurrying to Naples. He had already heard of Piccinino’s intentions from Borso
d’Este, who warned him that Piccinino was a dangerous enemy, and offered his
services as a mediator. But Pius, knowing that the Lord of Ferrara was “ more
French than the French ” in his sympathies, suspected treachery and rejected
his offers.2 Alessandro Sforza and Federico of Urbino at once
received orders to keep watch for Piccinino in Romagna, and to try to prevent
him from crossing the Neapolitan frontier. He, however, contrived to elude
their vigilance, and slipped across the Tronto in order to raise the Angevin
standard in the Abruzzi. Meanwhile the Papal troops under Simonetto were sent
to join Ferrante, who was engaged in besieging John of Calabria in Sarno. This
strong natural fortress, situated on the steep hillside, and protected at its
base by the rushing waters of the Sarno, had struck Pius’s notice during his
travels in the Neapolitan kingdom in 1456. It was thus with personal knowledge
of the strategical situation that the Pope watched the vicissitudes of the
siege.3 John of Calabria had collected his forces in what appeared
to be an impregnable retreat, intending to await the arrival of
1 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 96. The nephew
was Filippo dei Medici, Bishop of Arezzo. Cf. Pastor, vol. iii. p. 294 note.
2 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 96.
3 Cf. Commentarii, lib. i. p. 27, and lib.
iv. pp. 104-5.
Piccinino before
taking the open field. But although Sarno could not be taken by assault, it
could be starved into surrender; and as the summer wore on, and the blockade
continued, the Angevins were on the point of yielding. Ferrante’s troops,
however, were clamouring for pay, and, on 7 July, he rashly countenanced an
attack on Sarno in the hope of booty. The result was a crushing defeat for his
cause. The Angevin forces routed the besieging army, and the Pope’s general,
Simonetto, who had thrown the weight of his advice against the attack, was
killed in battle.1 Ferrante escaped with a handful of cavalry to
Naples, leaving his camp to be ransacked by the enemy.
Hard upon the battle
of Sarno came the news of another disaster. On 22 July Piccinino fell upon
Federico of Urbino and Alessandro Sforza at San Fabbiano, and drove them back
across the Tronto. This double defeat spread panic among Ferrante’s supporters,
and on all sides the friends of Anjou raised their heads. “ Christ fought for
us at Sarno,” exclaimed the Angevin envoy at the Papal Court; " if He is
on our side, we do not trouble about His Vicar.” To which Pius replied, “ You
have known before this that Christ’s Vicar is against you, and you will know it
even more certainly in the future. . . . With all my strength, O Italy, will I
succour you, and never suffer strangers to have rule over you.”2
These were brave words, but Neapolitan and Milanese authorities show that the
Pope’s behaviour, during this time of trial, was not so entirely courageous as
he would have posterity believe. Pius was aware that his support of Ferrante
was a new and even dangerous experiment. From the first a strong party in the
Curia was opposed to his policy, and even the Aragonese themselves seemed
hardly able to believe that he was in earnest. Report said that Ferrante made
his rash attack on Sarno because he feared to delay longer
1 Cf. Costanzo, vol. iii. pp. 205-10.
2 Commentariit lib. iv.
p. 106.
lest the Papal forces
should be recalled.1 Others declared that Pius had connived at
Piccinino’s unhindered passage through Romagna from a selfish desire to prevent
warfare in Papal territory.2 Pius was fully alive to these currents
of feeling, and while his friends suspected him, the Angevins never relaxed
their efforts to win him to their side. For a person of his susceptibility, it
became increasingly difficult to carry out a policy that was looked upon as
strange and unprecedented. From the time of the reverses of July 1460, he began
to waver. During the next two years it needed much persuasion from Francesco
Sforza and several bribes from Ferrante to keep him true to his purpose.
On hearing of the
Pope’s vacillations, Ferrante made a bid for his support by yielding his rights
over Terracina to the Church, and by presenting to the Pope’s nephew, Andrea,
the little town of Castiglione della Pescaia, on the Tuscan coast, together
with the adjacent island of Giglio.3 These gifts sufficed to keep
the Pope firm during the campaign of 1461, when his troops rendered valuable
assistance to the Aragonese in the neighbourhood of Naples. The balance of
success in this campaign lay on the whole with Ferrante. Yet with Apulia,
Calabria, and Abruzzi each a separate centre of disaffection, success in one
province often meant defeat in another. Pius was not far from the truth when he
compared the Neapolitan war to a sevenheaded monster : " if Ferrante
succeeds in winning one battle, the enemy are seven times victorious.”4
To a nervous temperament, wholly without military experience, these
vicissitudes were a severe strain, and time after time the Duke of Milan had to
bring his soldierly common sense
1 Cf.
Costanzo, vol. iii. p. 207.
2 Simonetta,
Historia Francisci Primi (Muratori, Rer.^Ital. Script., xxi. p.
709).
3 For Terracina, cf. Commentarii, lib. iv.
p. 130, and Raynaldus, 1460, No. 65. For Castiglione and Giglio, cf.
Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 108, and Simonetta, p. 727.
4 Simonetta, p. 732.
to bear upon the
panic-stricken Pope. It was, said Francesco Sforza, a far more difficult task
to keep the Pope steadfast than to bear the expenses and fatigues of the war.1
In 1461 the Duke of
Milan became seriously ill, and reports of his death were current throughout
Italy. At the same time came news of various reverses at the seat of war. Pius
was plunged into the lowest depths of despair, seeing himself, bereft of his
stalwart partner, the solitary champion of a hopeless cause. Once more Ferrante
came forward with a bribe, and in the autumn of 1461 another Papal nephew,
Antonio, was married to the King’s illegitimate daughter, being made Duke of
Amalfi and Grand Justiciar of the Kingdom. Yet even his delight at the honours
showered upon his nephew could not entirely restore the Pope’s peace of mind.
On 12 March 1462, the Milanese ambassador, Otto Carretto, forwarded to his
master the report of an important conversation which had taken place between
himself and Pius ii.2
After dismissing every one else from his presence, the Pope called Carretto to
his side and said to him, “ Messer Otto, you are a faithful servant of your
lord, and as his affairs are most closely connected with my own, I will quite
secretly impart certain matters to you, and then ask your advice concerning
them.” He proceeded to give a masterly sketch of the political situation, with
a view to showing the overwhelming power of France, and the perilous path which
Milan and the Papacy were treading in pursuing an anti-French policy in Naples.
Milan, he said, was surrounded by the friends of France —Savoy, Montferrat,
Ferrara; while in Venice she had a rival who would take prompt advantage of her
weakness. Discontent was rife throughout the Duchy, and many of Sforza’s
subjects were ready to side with France or Venice
1 Simonetta, p. 732.
2 Pastor, vol. iii. pp. 142-6, from the
original letter in the Biblioteca
Ambrosiana,
Milan.
against him.1
Little or nothing could be expected from Florence; while as for Ferrante, he
was hated by his people, and his treasury was exhausted. Save for Milan, the
Papacy must stand alone. Yet, within the States of the Church, the Colonna were
strongly French in sympathy, and many other Papal vassals were intriguing with
Piccinino. Beyond the borders of Italy there were German malcontents, and the
heretic King of Bohemia, who threatened the spiritual power of the Papacy.
French ambassadors were now on their way to Rome. If Pius refused their demands
with regard to Naples, would he not expose the Church to the perils of a
General Council, if not of a schism, and jeopardise the whole position of the
Papacy ?
Carretto was aghast
at the Pope’s words, and did his utmost to present the situation in a more
favourable light. To desert Ferrante at this juncture would, he urged, be a
lamentable exhibition of weakness. The Pope feared a renewal of the schism if
he resisted France, but an abject submission to France would go far to revive
the conditions of the Papal captivity at Avignon. His representations were not
without effect, and, after a few days, he was able to report that Pius was
recovering from his panic. “ My most anxious endeavour,” he concludes, “ will
be to keep His Holiness firm in this matter, and to take care that no one
should know of his vacillations.”
The events of the
next few months put an end to the trusty Carretto’s worst anxieties. Just when
Ferrante’s cause seemed most hopeless, the tide turned in his favour, and his
victory at Troja, on 18 August 1462, proved the decisive battle of the
Neapolitan war. It was followed by his reconciliation with the Prince of
Taranto, who had from the first sought the King’s humiliation rather than his
overthrow. The negotiations were conducted
1 The Pope’s words are confirmed by the
report on the political condition of Milan tendered to the Duke by his [agent,
Antonio Vailati, in 1461. Cf. Ady, A History of Milan under the Sforza, pp. 82
seq.
by Cardinal
Roverella, the Papal Legate, and Taranto was restored to all his former
possessions and offices.1 From this time forward Pius ii’s energies were directed towards
ending the war, and in December 1462 he succeeded in bringiiig the envoys of
the rival parties to a conference at Todi.2 But neither Ferrante nor
his opponent were ready for peace, and fighting continued throughout the year
1463. It was clear, however, that the real issue of the war was decided, and
the Neapolitan barons, of both factions, devoted themselves to strengthening
their own position, with a view to the future. The Pope’s share in this last
campaign limited itself to furthering the interests of his nephew, the Duke of
Amalfi When the young Count Ruggiero of Celano turned against his mother, a
loyal Aragonese, and threw in his lot with Piccinino, the Pope promptly laid
claim to Celano as a Papal fief. Troops were sent to protect the defenceless
widow against her unnatural son, but when peace was restored the lady only
recovered a few castles, while the County of Celano was conferred upon Antonio
Piccolomini.3 Pius also had hopes of securing the suzerainty of the
city of Aquila, which clung to its traditions of independence and sought Papal
protection against Ferrante. But plague within the city, and the armies of
Aragon without, humbled its pride. Aquila gave itself to the King of Naples,
and the envoys who had been sent to offer allegiance to the Pope were hastily
recalled.4
Meanwhile John of
Calabria had retired to Ischia. Early in 1464 he recognised that his cause was
hopeless, and took ship for Provence. He left behind him a fragrant memory. “
He had,” says Pontano, “ most charming manners, and showed singular faith and
loyalty.
. . . He was a good
Christian, full of generosity and kind
1 Costanzo, iii. pp. 252—3* Cf. also
Commentarii, lib. x. pp. 247—51.
2 Commentarii, lib. x. p. 271.
3 Ibid., lib. xi. p. 275, and lib. xii. p.
331.
4 Ibid., lib. xii. pp. 322 and 330.
liness, a lover of
justice, and more grave and circumspect than most Frenchmen.” 1
Many a subject of the Neapolitan kingdom, crushed beneath Ferrante’s iron rule,
and sickened by the tale of his treacheries, must have sighed for the return of
this gallant prince. Nevertheless, Pius ii’s
policy was in accordance with the true interests of his country. Only by
keeping the passes of the Alps barred against the foreigner could Italy attain
to some measure of unity and good government under the leadership of her five
chief States. Pius had wavered where he should have stood firm, and had worked
for the advancement of his family with unblushing persistency. For all that, he
had chosen the path of patriotic statesmanship, and had followed it to a
triumphant conclusion. Owing to Pius n and to those who worked with him, Italy
enjoyed those thirty years of peace and freedom from foreign interference which
lay between the close of the Neapolitan war and the invasion of Charles vm.
They were years which have made Italy famous for all time, in which the fairest
flowers of the Renaissance were brought to their perfection.
Closely interwoven
with the Neapolitan war is Pius ii’s long
struggle with Sigismondo Malatesta. This wayward child of the Renaissance,
constant only in his devotion to the Arts, had much in common with the humanist
Pope. Pius might say, in righteous horror, of the Malatesta temple at Rimini,
that “it was filled with so many profane works that it resembled a heathen
temple rather than a place of Christian worship.” 2 Nevertheless,
the ideals which inspired its creator differed little from those which brought
Pienza into being. Church and city alike are the expression of a personality,
the creation of an adventurer who had climbed to fame upon the vicissitudes of
an uncertain age, and who determined to leave behind him one permanent witness
to his memory.
1 Pontanus, De
Bello Neapolitano. Cf. also Costanzo, iii. p. 268.
2 Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 51.
Pius and Sigismondo
were, however, from the first destined to be enemies. The relations between the
Pope and the Vicar of an ecclesiastical fief were always delicate, and in this
case they were complicated by external circumstances. As a Sienese, Pius could
not forgive Sigismondo for his treachery to the Republic in 1454, when he undertook
the defence of Siena against the Lord of Pitigliano, and then made peace
without consulting his employers.1 Sigismondo, on his side, had
every reason to mistrust a suzerain,who was hand in glove with his bitterest
foes —the King of Naples, the Duke of Milan, and the Count of Urbino. The Lord
of Rimini, moreover, despised persuasion as much as Pius disliked impetuosity,
and thus personal antipathy arose to embitter the conflict.
The trouble began in
the first year of Pius n’s reign, when Sigismondo’s fortresses were falling
before the joint attack of Piccinino and the Count of Urbino, and the luckless
Malatesta joined the Papal cortege on its way to Mantua, humbly seeking
mediation from his overlord. For the moment, desire for peace triumphed over
the Pope’s antipathy, and he made at least an attempt to deal fairly by
Sigismondo. Malatesta’s cause was heard at Florence and again at Mantua, while
Pius wrote himself to Count Federico, begging him to modify his terms. “ You
are victorious,” he wrote, “ and Sigismondo acknowledges you to be so; as
worsted, he is ready to submit to terms. . . . Let not your rigour and
obstinacy wrest from you your conquest.” 2 Federico yielded to the
Pope’s pressure, and peace was made by which Sigismondo was forced to yield
several fortresses to Urbino, and to surrender Sinigaglia and Mondavio to the
Papacy, as pledges for payment of his debts to the King of Naples. Sigismondo,
not unnaturally, considered that Pius had taken advantage of his position as
mediator to gain possession of two coveted cities. Cir-
1 Yriarte, Un
condottiere au ije si tele, pp. 280—3.
2 Pius 11 to
Federico, Count of Urbino, 21 June 1459. Cf. Dennistoun, i.
pp. 117-9.
cumstances forced him
to accept the terms of the treaty, but he left Mantua vowing vengeance on the
Pope.
During the troubled
summer of 1460, Sigismondo saw his opportunity. Regardless of his pledges, he
seized Mondavio, and proceeded to attack Sinigaglia. Pius retaliated by
instituting formal proceedings against Malatesta as a heretic and a traitor,
and in the following year Bartolomeo Vitelleschi, Bishop of Corneto, was sent
into the Marches to reduce the rebel vassal to obedience. The chief result of
the campaign was a triumphant victory for Malatesta at Nidastore on 2 July
1461. The Papal forces fled before Sigismondo’s onset, leaving baggage, artillery,
and the banner of S. Peter in the victor’s hands.1 There were few
more critical moments in Pius ii’s reign.
The Duke of Milan was lying at death’s door, the Papal treasury was exhausted,
and every day seemed to bring news of fresh victories for Anj ou in Naples.
Nevertheless, in dealing with Malatesta the Pope knew no hesitation. He
continued to wage war on the miscreant, with weapons both temporal and
spiritual, until Sigismondo was brought to his knees.
The strangest and
most characteristic episode of the struggle was the burning of Malatesta’s
effigy, which took place in Rome early in the year 1462. It was the outward
sign, Pius explained, of his condemnation to eternal punishment. The system of
canonisation enabled the Pope to declare that certain of the departed were
citizens of the heavenly Jerusalem and worthy of the veneration of the
faithful. In the same way, it belonged to the Papal office to pronounce that
notorious sinners had their place with Lucifer, in the city of the damned.2
On Christmas Day
1460 the process began by a detailed accusation
against Sigismondo on the part of the Fiscal Advocate. The Lord of Rimini, he
declared, was guilty of “ rapine, arson, murder, adultery, incest, parricide,
sacrilege, treason and heresy,” and it was the Pope’s plain duty to purge Italy
1 Commentarii, lib. v. pp. i4i~*2. Cf.
Pastor, iii. p. 120.
2 Commentarii, lib. v. p. 129.
13
of " so
loathsome and abominable a monster.” 1 Other tyrants of the
Renaissance were as wicked as Sigismondo, but none took less trouble to conceal
their wrongdoings. Tales of his open contempt for the ceremonies and laws of
the Church, of the two wives whom he had murdered, and even of his schemes for
bringing the Turk into Italy, were rife throughout the country. It is difficult
for us to-day to separate fact from rumour, but there was sufficient evidence
against Sigismondo to satisfy his judges. When Cardinal Cusa presented his
report upon the investigation of the case, Malatesta was found guilty of all
the crimes ascribed to him, and it only remained to put the sentence into
execution. “ Before the steps of the basilica of S. Peter a great pyre of dry
materials was raised, and on the top of it was placed an effigy of Sigismondo,
reproducing the features of the man, and indeed his very clothes, so that it
seemed more like a real person than an effigy. And lest any should not
recognise the effigy, a scroll came out of its mouth bearing the words, ‘ I am
Sigismondo Malatesta . . . king of traitors, the enemy of God and man, by sentence
of the Sacred College condemned to the flames.’ Many read the writing; then, in
the presence of the multitude, the pyre was kindled and immediately consumed
the effigy.” a The ceremony was repeated in another part of Rome
with a duplicate effigy, the execution of the two figures being entrusted to
the Papal architect, Paolo Romano.3 The spirit of the Renaissance
demanded that even an effigy destined for the flames should be a work of art.
Therefore Pius took care that it should be so, and Sigismondo doubtless
appreciated the fact.
Meanwhile Sigismondo
was hurling defiance at his judge. “ I am advised that His Holiness has
composed some verses against me,” he wrote to the Duke of Milan.
1 Commentarii,
lib. v. p. 129. 2 Ibid., lib. vii. pp.
184-5.
3 Cf.
Miintz, Les Arts d la Cour des Papes : “ Hon viro magistro Paulo Mariani de
Urbe Sculptori, florenos auri de camera 8 ebol. 48, pro totidem per
eum expositis in conficiendis duabus imaginibus Sigismundi Malatesta ad
camburendum.”
“ I must tell you
that it is not in my nature to tolerate such things, even though His Holiness
is my suzerain and I am his Vicar and servant. . . . When I am attacked with
the pen, I attack with the pen. If I am opposed by the sword, I defend myself
with the sword to the death, . . . a gallant death ennobles an entire life.” 1
But the forces of the Papacy were more than a match for the rebel feudatory.
On 12 August, when Sigismondo had just succeeded in recapturing Sinigaglia,
Federico of Urbino appeared beneath its walls, and before dawn the next day
Malatesta’s army was scattered to the winds.2 In the following year
the fall of Fano set a seal upon the Pope’s triumph. The city was gallantly
defended by Roberto Malatesta, but, besieged both by land and sea, it
surrendered on 25 September 1463, after nearly four months’ resistance.3
Sinigaglia immediately gave herself to the Church, other strongholds followed
suit, and in a short time Sigismondo’s dominions were reduced to Rimini and its
contado. Public opinion had felt for some time past that the Pope had gone far
enough, and Milan, Venice, Florence, and even France, entreated him to stay his
hand. But Pius was strangely obstinate. “ It is not nobility that we hate,” he
wrote to the Count of Urbino, “ but profligate and faithless nobles like
himself (Sigismondo) . . . and we shall not neglect to chastise him as God may
give us opportunity. You, and all such as imitate your ways, we love right
heartily, and shall honour and exalt to the utmost of our power, . . . knowing
well that authority is best maintained by punishments and rewards, and that in
the opinion of all the world Sigismondo has earned the former, and you the
latter.” 4 At last the Pope realised that his tenacity with regard
to Sigismondo accorded ill with his exhorta-
1 Sigismondo Malatesta to Francesco
Sforza, Rimini, 26 March 1462 (Pastor, Appendix 56. From Archivio di Stato,
Milano).
2 Cf. Dennistoun, i. p. 136, and
Commentarii, lib. x. p. 259.
3 Commentarii, lib. xii. pp. 319 and 342.
4 Pius 11 to Federico of Urbino, 6 Oct.
1462 (Muzio, Historia dei jatti di Federico, Duca di Urbino, pp. 217-9).
tions of peace, and
in October 1463 the conditions of pardon were made and accepted. All the
Malatesta dominions were declared forfeit to the Holy See, and Sigismondo was
ordered to fast every Friday on bread and water for the remainder of his life.
After his envoys had made public confession and recantation of his heresies in
Rome, the sentence of excommunication was removed, and Rimini and Cesena were
granted afresh to Sigismondo and his brother Novello, in return for a large
annual tribute. Finally, the Bishop of Sessa was sent to Rimini to raise the
interdict. Three days of fasting and penance were imposed upon the whole
community, and at the end of that time Sigismondo, on his knees before the
Bishop in the crowded Cathedral, received absolution and benediction for
himself and his subjects.1 A few months later the vanquished rebel
left Italy for the East in the service of Venice.
It was during the
Pope’s sojourn at Siena, on his way back from the Congress of Mantua, that he
heard both of the Angevin victory at Sarno and of the rebellion of Malatesta. “
Misfortunes seldom come singly,” as Pius observed, and at the same time the
news from Rome was such as to cause him the gravest anxiety.2 A band
of some three hundred riotous youths, under the leadership of Tiburzio and
Valeriano de’ Maso, made Rome ring with the tale of their robberies and
outrages, and instituted a reign of terror with which the magistrates were
quite unable to cope. The barons of the Campagna made common cause with these
turbulent spirits, and Jacopo Savelli’s stronghold at Palombara became the
headquarters of the whole band. In the course of the summer one of the rioters,
appropriately named Innamorato, was arrested for kidnapping a girl on her way
to her wedding. Thereupon his companions fortified themselves in the Pantheon,
and held it during a nine days’ siege, being supplied with food by the
terror-stricken neighbours, who feared to deny them what they asked. Finally,
the magistrates weakly yielded 1 Commentarii, lib. xii. pp. 344-5. 2
Ibid., lib. iv. p. 106.
up Innamorato in
exchange for some citizens whom the rioters had captured. After this episode “
Tiburzio was lord of all, and everything hung upon his will.” 1 As
the son of Angelo de’ Maso, who had been executed for his share in the Porcaro
conspiracy ten years earlier, he posed as the champion of Republicanism, and
swore to deliver Rome from the yoke of the priests. After some weeks of virtual
dictatorship, Tiburzio graciously acceded to the request of the magistrates
that he should withdraw to Palombara. He left the city amid every sign of pomp,
and with the knowledge that he could return when it suited him.
From Rome and the
Campagna the insurrection spread outwards until it merged in the larger problem
of the Neapolitan war. In September, Piccinino appeared in the Sabina, where he
was welcomed by all the elements of opposition to the Papacy. Jacopo Savelli
provided quarters for his troops, and the anti-Papal party in Tivoli all but
succeeded in delivering the city into his hands. The capture of a certain Luca
da Tozio, an emissary of Cardinal Colonna, revealed a widespread conspiracy
against the Pope. The Prince of Taranto, Everso of Anguillara, Jacopo Savelli,
and the Colonna had combined to bring Piccinino into the Campagna. Tiburzio
would open the gates of Rome to him, and the Papal government would be at his
mercy.2 Up to this time Pius had disregarded the entreaties of the
magistrates that he should return to Rome, but now he resolved to delay no
longer. The Cardinals feared that he would fall into Piccinino’s clutches, but
the Pope remembered Eugenius iv’s nine years’ exile, and determined to enter
Rome while it was still possible.
On 6 October
the news spread that the Pope was in the neighbourhood, and the Senator of
Rome, Cardinal Tebaldo, and some of the nobility rode out to welcome his
return. They found Pius picnicking by a fountain in a shady grove. He had spent
the previous night at the village of Formello, 1 Commentarii,
lib. iv. pp. 106-7. 2
Ibid., pp. 108-9.
where the
accommodation had been primitive, and he was enjoying an al fresco meal in
order to make up for his scanty supper. The new-comers were pressed to join the
feast, and then the whole party set out for Rome. Pius, with habitual good
fortune, had chosen exactly the right moment for his return. The fickle youth
of the city had grown weary of excesses, and a band of Tiburzio’s followers
came six miles out of Rome to beg the privilege of carrying the returning
Pontiff into his capital. The Pope’s companions trembled when they saw these
unruly youths raising the Papal litter to their shoulders, but Pius smiled at
their fears : “ Thou shalt walk on the asp and the basilisk, and tread under
foot the lion and the dragon,” he quoted. “ What wild beast is more savage than
man? . . . Yet the fiercest natures often grow gentle. These youths were
prepared to take from us our life and our city, but now they know their error,
and bear on their shoulders him whom they sought to trample under their feet.” 1
The same month saw the end of Tiburzio’s career. Another of his band, a certain
Bonanno Specchio, having fallen into the hands of the police, Tiburzio came to
Rome, with fifteen companions, and endeavoured to repeat the Innamorato
episode. But his transient popularity had vanished, and he failed to create any
movement in his favour. The rebels fled for refuge to the grass and scrub
outside the walls, where the Papal troops hunted them down with dogs until the
ringleaders were captured. On 31 October Tiburzio and seven others were hanged
in the Capitol. Within a year, this outbreak of hooliganism, masquerading in
the guise of a Republican movement, was over and forgotten.
In 1461, Federico of
Urbino undertook a campaign in the Sabina which did much to restore order in
the Papal dominions round Rome. Three new canons, named after the Pope and his
parents, Silvia, Vittoria, and Enea, were employed in the war, and the Pope
prided himself that they
1 Commentarii, lib. iv. pp. 115-6.
were largely
responsible for the success of the campaign.1 Jacopo Savelli, the
arch-rebel of the barons, was besieged in Palombara, and in July he humbly
sought peace of the Pope. He was pardoned upon easy conditions, and his
submission put an end to the Pope’s worst difficulties. " Words fail me to
describe,” wrote Otto Carretto, “ what joy and delight this matter has brought
to the whole city and Curia.” 2
The Neapolitan war,
the subjugation of Malatesta, and the suppression of Tiburzio’s rebellion are
the three outstanding events of Pius n’s reign in Italy. Yet his success as
ruler of the States of the Church does not rest upon these victories alone. It
may even be said that, in all three episodes, fortune rather than any peculiar
display of ability on Pius n’s part turned the scales in his favour. The
unique feature of his rule, and the clue to his successful government, lies in
the intimate knowledge of his dominions which he gained by his constant
expeditions to all parts of the Papal States. The inhabitants of many a
rebellious city and of many a remote village had looked upon the Pope merely as
some far-off recipient of taxes until they gained a new conception of their
suzerain from the kindly little old man, with his genial manners and simple
habits, who had spent some pleasant days among them. The Pope’s detractors
grumbled at these constant holidays, and complained that the Papal business was
neglected. But in Italy, where the personal relation is all supreme, Pius n’s
progresses among his people bound the Papal States together in a way that hours
of toil with his secretaries at the Vatican could never have accomplished.
During the Pope’s
visits to the cities of his dominions, he was often called upon to play the
part of peacemaker. His efforts to mediate between contending factions at
Perugia had little permanent effect, but in other places he
1 Commentarii, lib. v. p. 135.
2 Otto Carretto to Francesco Sforza, 11
July 1461 (Pastor, Appendix 49, from Archivio di Stato, Milano).
was more successful.
His dealings with Orvieto, in particular, are an illustration of the good
influence which a wise and tactful Pope could have over the distracted
Republics which acknowledged the Papal suzerainty. As soon as the fact that
Pius had left Mantua was known in Orvieto, the citizens began to look forward
to a visit from their over-lord on his way back to Rome.1 It was resolved
to pave the way for his coming by a complimentary embassy. As a preliminary
step, a general day’s hunting was proclaimed, and every citizen, from the
magistrates of the Republic to the humblest peasant, turned out at the sound of
the horn to take his share in providing a present for the Pope. The result of
the chase was that an embassy from Orvieto appeared before Pius ii at Siena,
armed with some hundred head of game and a varied list of petitions. The Pope
was asked, among other things, to allow some Jewish money-lenders to settle in
Orvieto, to repair the hall of the Papal palace, and to reduce the salt-tax.
Evil reports had already reached Pius of the feuds between the Muffati and the
Melcorini which destroyed the peace of Orvieto. He now saw his opportunity to
end the war, and the envoys were sent away happy, with the assurance that
their petitions should be granted, and that the Pope would visit their city in
the course of the year. On 27 September 1460 the great day arrived, and Pius
was welcomed at the gates of Orvieto by crowds of children waving
olive-branches and shouting, “Pio! Pace!” Before entering the city he made the
sign of the cross over it, in order to exorcise the evil spirit of sedition
with the Papal blessing.2 He remained for three days in the Papal
palace, full of admiration for the splendid city rising out of the valley upon
its rocky precipices. “ Here,” he says, “ were most noble houses and vast
palaces, but age has consumed much, while civil strife has burned and destroyed
still
1 Fumi, Pio II
e la pace di Orvieto (Studi e documenti di storia e diritto, Anno vi., Roma,
1885.
2 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 111.
more. Now there are
only half-ruined towers and fallen temples. But the Church of the Blessed
Virgin Mary stands unspoilt in the midst of the town, unrivalled by any Church
in Italy. . . . The facade . . . is adorned with statues fashioned by excellent
sculptors (the greater part of them Sienese),1 who are not inferior
to Phidias or Praxiteles. In the white marble figures of men and animals art
seems to rival nature; only a voice is needed to make them alive. And there may
be seen the resurrection of the dead, the judgment of the Saviour, the pains of
the damned, and the reward of the elect, as if these events were really happening.”
2 Pius, with unerring artistic instinct, has seized upon the
peculiar glory of the Orvieto facade, but even while he rejoiced over its
beauty he laboured in the cause of peace. He preached in the Cathedral, and
gave separate addresses to the boys and girls of the city, all with a view to
ending civil strife. Before the Pope left Orvieto the citizens were determined
to lay aside their feuds. In the following December, Muffati and Melcorini made
peace in the presence of the Papal Governor, and a month later a new
government, known as the Stato Ecclesiastico, was set up.3 It was
composed of representatives of all parties in the city, and by this means the “
diabolical factions ” were extinguished. In the course of the year 1461 Papal
troops aided the citizens to rid themselves of a would-be tyrant, Gentile della
Sala, who had endeavoured to create a revolution in Orvieto for his own ends.
Gentile surrendered at discretion to the Pope, who spared his life and lands,
but banished him to North Italy.4 With Gentile’s departure Orvieto
was at the end of her troubles.
1 The Sienese architect Lorenzo Maitani, capo
maestro of the works at Orvieto 1310—30, is now commonly admitted to have
designed the fagade, although the prevalence of the Florentine spirit in the
reliefs points to the influence of such men as Andrea and Nino Pisano. Pius 11
naturally takes the Sienese view of this vexed question. Cf. Waters, Italian
Sculptors, pp. 117-20.
2 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. in. 3 Fumi, op. cit., pp. 261—4.
4 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 112.
“ Nothing is more
dear to our heart,” wrote Pius in his letter of congratulation, “ than to know
that our subjects live in peace and tranquillity.” 1
In 1461 Pius passed
his villegiatura at Tivoli, a politic move on his part, in view of the recent
disturbances in the city. Some of the citizens who had tried to deliver Tivoli
to Piccinino fled on the news of the Pope’s coming, but those who remained
received a free pardon together with a fatherly lecture upon the error of their
ways.2 As a guarantee against future trouble Pius caused a fortress
to be built in the highest part of the city. This great stronghold with its
twin towers, adorned with the arms of Pius 11, remains as a permanent memorial
of the Pope’s sojourn in Tivoli.3 Before returning to Rome, Pius
made an expedition to Subiaco. As he travelled up the Aniene valley, he was
charmed by the countless sparkling streams which flowed into the river. “ The
Pope ordered dinner to be prepared on the journey, at a place where a clear
fountain gushed out. . . . Here the Pope and Cardinals dined, quenching their
thirst at the stream. The ice-cold water tasted sweeter than wine. The people
assembled near the fountain were invited to share the feast, although a great
crowd had come from the surrounding villages to see the Pope. After dinner, the
peasants plunged into the water to catch fish for the Pope’s entertainment. He
watched the fishers from the bank as he proceeded on his way, and at every
capture they saluted him with a loud shout, and handed the trout to the Papal
servants. Thus the greater part of the journey passed in the pleasantest manner.”4
This, and other episodes of the kind, so naively described in the Commentaries,
caused the name of Pius 11 to be cherished among the inhabitants of an entire
countryside.
1 Fumi, op. cit., p. 265. 2 Commentarii, lib. v. p. 136.
8 The
following inscription is preserved on the gateway :—
“ Grata bonis, invisa
malis, inimica superbis Sum tibi, Tybur, enim sic Pius instituit.”
4 Commentarii, lib. vi. p. 167.
The year 1462 was the
golden year of Pius n’s sojourn in Tuscany, when he lingered on the slopes of
Monte Amiata, and watched Pienza rise into being upon the opposite hill-side.
But his journeys to and from Tuscany formed the occasion for another leisurely
progress through the Papal States. The Feast of Corpus Christi was spent amid
much pageantry at Viterbo, and, on the Lake of Bolsena, Pius watched the
boat-races, which he describes with enthusiasm worthy of a competitor in the
struggle.1 On the return journey the Pope stayed at Todi, where once
more he was able to introduce a settled government in the place of anarchy and
misrule. He found the citizens groaning under the yoke of Jacopo and Andrea
Atti, members of a powerful and wealthy family, who had usurped authority in
Todi. The Pope and Cardinals instituted an inquiry into the doings of these
brothers, with the result that Jacopo, the principal offender, was banished
from the city. The chief magistracy of Todi was composed of Priors elected by
lot every two months, from names previously placed in the election-boxes. Now,
under Pius 11’s auspices, the magistracy was purged of undesirable elements by
the usual Italian practice of refilling the election-boxes. At the same time, “
various other salutary laws were given to the city, which have sufficed unto
this day to maintain peace.” 2
Pius was
an enthusiastic builder, but his energies were mainly directed towards the
glorification of Pienza. His chief works in Rome were a tribune, from which the
Pope could bless the people outside S. Peter’s, and the beautiful Chapel of S.
Andrew in the left aisle of the ancient Church. With the rebuilding of S.
Peter’s both these memorials of Pius 11 were swept away. For the rest, his
building operations, as well as his general policy, found their origin in his
travels through the Papal States. The new harbour at Corneto, the walls of
Civita Vecchia, and the restorations at Assisi and Orvieto, are alike the
outcome of the Pope’s
1 Commentarii, lib. viii. pp. 208-14. 2 Ibid., lib. x. pp. 270-1.
intimate knowledge of
the needs of his dominions. Above all he took pains to be an effective guardian
of the antiquities of the Papal States. As the Pope was returning along the Via
Appia from one of his many excursions, he saw to his horror a man digging great
blocks of stone out of the way, in order to use them for building a house. He
sent at once to the lord of the district, a member of the Colonna family, and
bade him see that the Via Appia was left untouched, as it was under the
protection of the Papacy.1 In 1462 he issued a Bull forbidding
injury to any ancient monument in his dominions, and reserving to himself the
right of attending to necessary repairs.2 Later generations would
have had cause to rejoice if other guardians of Rome had been as zealous as
Pius 11.
As ruler of the Papal
States, Pius showed himself a true Guelf. To the cities he was a benevolent
suzerain, caring for their interests and respecting their liberties, but he
waged war on the nobility. Sigismondo Malatesta, Gentile della Sala, and Jacopo
Savelli were not the only feudatories who felt the weight of his hand. An
object of his peculiar aversion was Everso, Count of Anguillara, a petty lord
of the Campagna, of whom he has left a vivid if unpleasing portrait. “ To
Everso nothing was sweeter than rapine, he was skilled in arms, and made war
upon his relations and friends as readily as upon his enemies. He was always at
enmity with his suzerain the Pope; . . . he despised religion, saying that the
world was governed by chance, and that the souls of men and animals alike were
mortal. He was blasphemous and cruel, and thought no more of killing a man than
a beast. He invented new and horrible tortures for his prisoners. He forced his
troops to live by plunder and robbery, and compelled the peasants to work for
him on Sundays. It was the Lord’s Day, he said, and he was their Lord.” 3
The Count
1 Commentarii,
lib. xi. p. 308.
2 Lesca, p.
226 ; Pastor, iii. p. 304.
8
Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 39, and Cugnoni, p. 190.
PALAZZO PKCOLOMINI
]' 1E NV A
of Anguillara was
implicated in every movement against Pius 11, but he contrived, apparently, to
escape punishment. He is last mentioned in the Commentaries in 1463, when he
was frustrated in an attempt to kill the Pope by soaking his saddle in poison.1
Both in his
scepticism and his barbarities, Everso is a lesser example of the type of
Sigismondo Malatesta. He stood for lawlessness, brute force, and feudal
independence, and from vassals such as he, Pius was determined to purge his
dominions. In their place he substituted for the most part his own relations.
The system of nepotism was already in vogue before Pius ascended the throne of
S. Peter, but under him it became an established feature of Papal policy.
Antonio Piccolomini takes a prominent place in the long line of Papal nephews
which culminated in Caesar Borgia. His fortunes were made in the Neapolitan
war, several of the forfeited Malatesta fiefs fell to his share, and he was
brought forward on every possible occasion. Yet Pius was too tenacious of his
rights to allow even a favourite nephew to -usurp his authority, and he cannot
fairly be accused of subordinating the interests of the Papacy to those of his
family. Antonio and the numerous Piccolomini who held the fiefs and manned the
fortresses of the Church were a source of strength and not of weakness to the
Papacy. Nepotism was used by Pius 11 as a means of supplying a non-military
power with its chief requisite, loyal and efficient captains.
In an age when every
Papal Vicar struggled to make himself a sovereign prince, and when the Papacy
still reaped the fruits of its long exile from Italy, the Pope’s task as a
territorial ruler was by no means light. Pius 11, in the face of many
difficulties, went far towards establishing an effective control over his
dominions. At his death in 1464 he left the States of the Church more loyal,
more united, and better governed than he found them.
1 Commentarii, lib, xi. p. 305, ,
PIUS II AND EUROPE
PIUS II’s relations
with the powers of Europe gave scope for the exercise of his peculiar talents.
Embassies came to Rome, and whether or no the results of their mission proved
satisfactory, one and all departed lost in admiration at the wise and eloquent
orations which fell from the Holy Father’s lips. Papal Bulls sped hither and
thither, couched in the well-turned, incisive phrases which were associated
with the name of .Eneas Silvius. In the various problems which called for
solution the Pope always had some personal knowledge to bring to bear upon the
subject, the fruit of his long apprenticeship in European diplomacy and of his
insatiable curiosity with regard to the men and movements which crossed his
path. Thus here, as in every phase of Pius n’s career, it is the personal
interest which predominates. The tedious and somewhat profitless negotiations which
mark his activity as the arbiter of Europe are chiefly interesting to-day as
the means by which he gave expression to his individuality. At the same time,
his achievements in the sphere of European politics afford a valuable object-
lesson as to the true position of the restored Papacy. A modern, Italianised
Papal monarchy had emerged from the confusion of the previous generation. What
part would this new phenomenon play among the nations of Europe ? Would the
spiritual supremacy of the mediaeval Papacy again become a reality ? Such were
the questions which called for solution when Pius ii succeeded to the traditional
206
leadership of
Christendom, and set himself to shape the destinies of Europe with the
instruments that had proved successful in the fashioning of his own career.
I. France
As the spiritual
sovereign of Europe, Pius 11 had a threefold task to perform. The removal of
the Pragmatic Sanction in France, the reconciliation of Bohemia with the
Catholic Church, and the restoration of order in Germany by means of a
reassertion of Papal authority, never ceased to occupy his attention. Upon
these three objects turned the diplomacy of the Curia throughout his reign.
With regard to France, the gauntlet was thrown down at Mantua, when Pius, in
the presence of the admiring Cardinals, spoke strong words concerning the wrong
done to the authority of the Holy See by the conditions which prevailed in the
Gallican Church.1 The Pragmatic Sanction of Bourges dated from the
year 1438, when the French king, feeling that he had little concern in the
quarrel between Pope and Council, resolved to deal practically with the
situation and to adopt by royal authority such of the Basel decrees as seemed
to meet the needs of his country.2 The Papal rights with regard to
ecclesiastical appointments, annates, and appeals were either restricted or
denied, and the doctrines of the Conciliar movement concerning the superiority
and frequency of General Councils were embodied in the document. The whole
tenor of the Pragmatic Sanction made it a perpetual source of annoyance to the
restored Papacy, and it was by no means surprising that the author of the Bull
Execrabilis should at once single it out for attack.
Charles vn promptly
took up the challenge. He caused a formal protest to be registered against the
Pope’s Mantuan policy, bidding him beware of meddling with the Conciliar
1 Commentarii, lib. iii. p. 87. Cf. pp.
176-8, above.
2 Cf. pp. 69-70, above.
decrees, and offering
his protection to any future Council which might meet in France. Allusion was
also made to the Pope’s championship of Ferrante, in terms which were the
reverse of courteous. " The Holy Father,” ran the protest, “ also spoke in
favour of the party opposed to King Rene, saying much in praise of the Bastard
that he would have done far better to keep to himself.” 1 The envoys
sent to negotiate with Charles vn about the Crusade were kept for months
without an answer,2 and the presence of Pius n’s arch-enemy, Gregory
Heimburg, at the French Court was further proof of the King’s hostility.
Nevertheless, from
the point of view of the French monarchy, the desirability of maintaining the
Pragmatic Sanction was at least an open question. Freedom of election left the
Cathedral Chapters at the mercy of anyone strong enough to influence them, and
the King found his share of patronage exposed to constant encroachments from
the great nobles. Questions of jurisdiction had now to be fought out with the
Parlement and the University of Paris, and these bodies proved no whit less
tenacious than the Roman Curia. The French Church was, in short, still
exploited, but the fact that the spoilers were Frenchmen and not Italians made
the Pragmatic Sanction acceptable to the nation in spite of its abuses. Yet to
a King whose chief aim was to strengthen the royal authority, it seemed even
more dangerous to share his control of the Church with his own subjects than
with the Papacy. Such was the view of the question which presented itself to
the Dauphin Louis. He at once ranged himself on the side of Pius ii, and entered on negotiations with
Rome with an
1 Pithou,
Prenves des libertez ds V&glise GalUcane, vol. ii. pp. 289-95. M. Joannis
Dauvet Procuratoris generalis protestatio nullitatis et appellatio ad futuram Concilium
contra Orationem Pii 11 Pontificis, habitam in Conventu Mantuano, comminates
ejusdem et censuras publicatas in Carolum vn Regem Francorum, 1460.
2 Cf. Pius 11 to Charles vii, March 1460.
Quoted by Pastor, Appendix 38, from Archivio Secreto del Vaticano.
enthusiasm bred of
the knowledge that he was opposing his father’s policy.
When in July 1461 the
Dauphin became King Louis xi, he at once signified his intention of keeping his
promises, and Pius addressed a warm letter of congratulation and encouragement
to the new monarch. The letter contains the following significant sentence :
‘‘If your prelates and the University desire anything of us, let them approach
us through your mediation ; for no Pope has ever loved the French nation more
than ourselves, and we will refuse no request that can honestly be granted.” 1
It was clear that Louis xi regarded the alliance with the Papacy as a means of
bringing the Gallican Church under his heel, and that Pius was prepared to show
his gratitude in a material form. When in December the names of six new
Cardinals were published, those of two Frenchmen—Jouffroy, Bishop of Arras, and
Louis d’Albret—were among the number. Just at this time came Louis xi’s letter
to the Pope announcing that the Pragmatic Sanction was abolished.2
With tears of joy Pius told the news to his Consistory, and all hailed it as a
signal triumph for the restored Papacy. “ It is the greatest news that could
come to the Apostolic See,” wrote Goro Lolli to the Sienese Republic. “ In one
moment the Papacy has gained the Kingdom of France and has won the full
obedience of all Christians. God be praised that during the reign of a Sienese
Pope Holy Church should be thus exalted. And,” adds the practical son of Siena,
“ it will be of no small advantage to our own city, for those who seek the
Curia will double the number of travellers passing through our territories.” 3
The exultant Pope
addressed an autograph letter to Louis xi, praising him for his noble action
which showed him to be “ a true scion of the Franks, and Most Christian
1 Pius 11 to Louis xi, Rome, 25 Oct. 1461
(Ep. 387, Opera, p. 861).
2 Louis xi to Pius 11, 27 Nov. 1461 (Ep.
388, Opera, p. 863).
3 Gregorio Lolli to Siena, 26 Dec. 1461
(Pastor, Appendix 53, from Archivio di Stato, Siena).
King.” 1
With it he sent a consecrated sword engraved with an elegant verse of his own
composition inciting the French monarch to war against the Turk.2 It
seemed, indeed, as if Pius in a few short months had won all for which his
predecessors, from Eugenius onwards, had pleaded in vain. The year ended in a
glow of satisfaction with regard to the French question. Yet 1462 had hardly
dawned before it transpired that Pius ii’s difficulties had begun rather than
ended with the abolition of the Pragmatic Sanction.
From the time that
Louis as Dauphin opened negotiations with the Papacy, his intermediary was the
Burgundian Bishop of Arras, whose chief concern throughout had been to obtain a
Cardinal’s hat. “ When Arras knew that he had sailed into port, and that there
was no more uncertainty about the coveted honour, he began to write of Louis’s
intentions with regard to Naples, a subject upon which he had hitherto kept
silence.” 3 The upshot of his letters was that Louis had constituted
himself the champion of Ren6, and that he counted upon a complete reversal of
the Papal policy in Naples. “ By this means the King’s wishes would be
satisfied, and the Pragmatic Sanction would certainly be revoked.”
Shaken by the
strength of the Angevin party in the Curia, harassed by threats of a General
Council, and of direct intervention in Italy on the part of the French crown,
Pius 11 passed, as we have seen, through his worst fit of irresolution with
regard to his Neapolitan policy.4 Had it not been for the earnest
representations of the Milanese ambassador, it seems probable that he would
have succumbed to the pressure of France and abandoned
1 Pius 11 to Louis xi, 13 Jan. 1462, “
manu propria” (Ep. 27, ed. Mediol.).
2 Commentarii, lib. vii. p. 184—
“ Exerat in Turcas
tua me Ludovic furentes Dextera: Graiorum sanguinis ulta ero,
Corruet imperium
Maumethis, et inclyta rursus Gallorum virtus, te petet astra duce."
8
Commentarii, lib. vii. p. 186. * Cf.
above, pp. 188-9.
Ferrante to his fate.
But when he received the French embassy, which came to Rome in March 1462 to
make formal surrender of the Pragmatic Sanction, the Pope had recovered from
his panic. To the splendid offers of all that the French King would do for the
Crusade once his cousin of Anjou reigned in Naples, the Pope replied “ so
sweetly, so eloquently, and so persuasively that the whole public Consistory
was amazed.”1 The Sienese ambassador describes the oration as “
something so glorious that it seemed divine rather than human.” 2
Yet he was forced to admit that this oratorical triumph had only been achieved
by omitting all reference to two subjects of paramount importance—the demands
of the French King with regard to Naples and Genoa. From the point of view of
the French envoys, the matter looked very different. When, after weeks of
negotiation, they passed through Florence on their return journey, they summed
up the situation in terms which augured ill for the future. “ They said, in
effect, that the Pope had given them many words, but no good deeds.” 3
The embassy of 1462
was followed by a long correspondence between Pius and Louis xi, in which the
latter tried by varying means to lure the Pope to the side of Anjou, while the
former employed his literary talents in parrying the attacks of the French
King. In the earlier stages of the duel, Louis adopted the method of
concession. He performed an act of restitution in surrendering to the Papacy
the Counties of Die and Valence on the eastern bank of the Rhone.4
He also proposed a marriage between his daughter and Antonio Piccolomini
shortly after the latter had wedded his Aragonese bride. On the
1B.
Riverius, Report (Pastor, p. 150, from Archivio di Stato, Milano).
2 L. Petronius to Siena, Rome, 17 March
1462 (Pastor, Appendix 55, from Archivio di Stato, Siena).
3 N. da Pontremoli to Francesco Sforza,
Florence, 9 April 1462 (Pastor, p. 153, from Archivio di Stato, Milano).
* Ravnaldus. Annales, 1462, Nos. 11-13-
news that Antonio was
already provided for, he heaped reproaches upon the Pope for having sold
himself to the Aragonese. Pius, however, replied in his most urbane manner that
he had followed his usual practice with regard to his young relations, and had
left the choice of a wife entirely in Antonio’s own hands.1
When the departure of
John of Calabria from Naples sealed the failure of Anjou, Louis let his fury
break loose, and concession was abandoned for something like open hostility.
The cause of his anger lay less in any concern for the fortunes of his cousins
than in the feeling that he had been outwitted. He had thought to make the Pope
his grateful servant by surrendering the Pragmatic Sanction. Neapolitan affairs
had taught him his mistake, and he determined to rob Pius II of the fruits of
his victory before it was too late. In the summer of 1462 the Seneschal of
Toulouse visited the Pope at Viterbo, and delivered a threatening message to
the effect that, if Pius did not mend his ways, the French Cardinals would be
recalled from the Curia. This was one of the comparatively rare occasions on
which Pius lost his temper, and the diatribe which he poured forth upon the
French nation in general, and its representatives at the Curia in particular,
did not tend towards pacification. “ Let them go, if they please,” he retorted;
“ the Curia will not be brought to ruin on that account. On the contrary, it
will be repaired. Avarice, simony, luxury, and ambition will go with them, and
all evil practices will cease with their departure. . . . Blessed is the Pope who
has no Gauls at his Court. . . . Every day we have contended with them and
their improper and dishonest demands. Let them go; let them betake themselves
afar. Then once more we may live peaceably and devoutly.” 2 After
this episode it is not surprising to hear of Louis writing a letter “ unworthy
of his dignity, and as though he were the Pope’s superior,”
1 Pius 11 to Louis XI, Viterbo, 10 May
1462 (Ep. 33, Mediol.).
2 Cugnoni, p. 220 (omitted from
Commentarii, viii. p. 202).
in which he “
condemned the works of the supreme Pontiff, and prescribed for him rules of
conduct.” 1
Meanwhile, feeling on
the ecclesiastical problem in France ran high. The students of the University
found vent for their indignation by performing a play in which rats were seen
devouring the seals of the Pragmatic Sanction, and then receiving red hats.
Every question of jurisdiction, every appointment in the Gallican Church, gave
occasion for a struggle between the Pope and either the University or the Crown.
Finally, the year 1463 introduced a fresh stage of the conflict, and Louis deliberately
set himself to neutralise the surrender of the Pragmatic Sanction. By a series
of decrees, designed to defend the French nation against “ the aggressions of
Rome ” and to restore “ the ancient Gallican liberties,” the Papacy was
deprived of much of the practical advantage which it had gained by the
restoration of obedience. “ The King did not show himself so religious by the
abolition of the Pragmatic Sanction as he showed himself sacrilegious by
issuing such decrees,” 2 is Pius ii’s
comment on the situation. In the same year the Cardinal of Arras left
Rome, to become as zealous a promoter of Louis xi’s anti-Papal policy as he had
once been of his alliance with the Pope. Meanwhile the French King opened
negotiations with Pius ii’s enemies
in Germany, and even went so far as to coquet with George of Bohemia’s darling
scheme of a secular Crusade against the Turk.
Thus the
relations between France and the Papacy at the end of Pius ii’s reign were
hardly less strained than they had been at the beginning. The most that could
be said was that formal obedience had been restored ; the obnoxious name of
Pragmatic Sanction was no more, and it remained for successive kings to render
the anti- Papal decrees more or less operative as seemed best to meet the
political exigencies of the moment. From first to last the question of the
Gallican Church had been 1 Qomment(irii, lib. xii. pp. 323-4- * Ibid., p. 324,
treated from the
point of view of politics. On the accession of Louis xi the political situation
was favourable to an understanding with the Papacy, and Pius, like a clever
diplomatist, had seized the propitious moment to secure his brief triumph. He
made the most of his opportunity while it lasted, so far as he could do so
without sacrifice of his Italian policy. But now France had nothing more to
gain from friendship with Rome. The political tide had set in a contrary
direction, and the Pope was powerless to stem it.
II. Bohemia
Pius n’s treatment of
the Bohemian problem forms perhaps the most disappointing episode in the
history of his dealings with Europe. At the time of his accession, the question
seemed ripe for settlement, and Pius the man of all others fitted to bring about
a satisfactory solution. George Podiebrad, who had been chosen King of Bohemia
after the death of Ladislas Postumus, was, for his part, sincerely desirous of
a reconciliation with Rome. He was, as /Eneas said of him, a prey to political
ambition rather than to theological error,1 and recognition by Rome
seemed to him the only means of securing the allegiance of his Catholic
subjects. On 7 May 1458 he had been crowned by two Catholic Bishops, acting
with the consent of Calixtus 111, and he had sworn to them in secret to do his
utmost to restore his people to the faith and discipline of the Catholic
Church. He was, in short, prepared to accept any compromise that would remove
the taint of heresy from his kingdom, and at the same time satisfy the mass of
his subjects who clung to Utraquism as the symbol of their faith and of their
nationality. Pius 11, on his side, fully appreciated the difficulties of the
situation. Only three years before his accession he pleaded for the recognition
of the Compacts 1 Commentarii, lib. i. p. 18,
as the one hope of
bringing back Bohemia to the fold,1 while his knowledge of the
Bohemian people naturally inclined him to deal sympathetically with the
religious question. It seemed as if Pope and King were ready to work together
for a common end, and that their efforts would be crowned with success. Yet
this apparent unanimity concealed a fundamental flaw which accounted for all
subsequent failure. Both Pope and King desired the reconciliation of Bohemia
with the Church, but each of them regarded it as a means to an end, and worked
for it only in so far as it served his ultimate object. George’s aim was to
rule over a loyal and united people ; therefore a reconciliation with Rome
which alienated his Hussite subjects had no attractions for him. Pius sought to
re-establish the Papal supremacy over an undivided Christendom ; therefore he
was not prepared to give peace to Bohemia at the cost of countenancing national
separatism in matters ecclesiastical. Neither Pope nor King had any illusions
about the dilemma in which they found themselves. George knew that Rome would
not accept any compromise that would satisfy the Hussites. Pius, as his earlier
advocacy of the Compacts showed, realised that Bohemia could only be won by
recognising her peculiar rites. Each, however, relied on his own diplomatic
gifts to steer him through the difficulty. It was, in fact, a struggle of wits
between two well-matched combatants.
The negotiations
which followed Pius n’s accession were entirely harmonious. When the Bohemian
envoys came to proffer their obedience to the Pope at Siena, he refused to
recognise George as King until he had made public profession of orthodoxy. But
Pius could not remain obdurate in the face of Podiebrad’s lavish offers of
support against the Turk, and the letter inviting ambassadors to attend the
Congress of Mantua spoke of “ our dear son
1 Cf. Oratio habita coram Calixto III de Compactatis
Bohemorum, 1455 (Pii II Orationes, Mansi, vol. i. p. 352),
in Christ the King of
the Bohemians.” 1 On George’s reply that he could do nothing to
further either the Crusade or the question of reunion until he was lord over
all his people, Pius sent envoys to Bohemia who did much to secure George’s
recognition by his Catholic subj ects. Even the fiery Catholics of Breslau
consented to a three years’ truce, on the expiration of which they would do
homage to their King as “ a true and undoubted Catholic.” This truce (13
January 1460) evoked general rejoicing. George was loud in his expressions of
gratitude, and Pius looked forward to the speedy arrival of an embassy which
would bring the affair of Bohemia to a triumphant conclusion.2
The embassy, like
others of its kind, was long in coming, and it was not until March 1462 that
the Bohemians entered Rome, headed by Pius n’s old friend, Procopius von
Rabstein, and a Hussite noble, Sdenek Kostka of Postupic. In the two years’
interval the course of events, both in Bohemia and Rome, had placed fresh
obstacles in the way of reconciliation. Complaints had come from Breslau that
the recent edicts of Rokycana, the Hussite Archbishop of Prag, were forcing
good Catholics either to accept the chalice or to leave the country.3
At the same time, George’s friendly relations with the Papacy had so alarmed
the Hussites that they required their King to give a solemn promise to stand by
the Compacts. Procopius stated the dilemma fairly enough when he explained to
Bessarion that George was lord over two kinds of people in Bohemia, and that it
was impossible for him to favour one party without shaking the loyalty of the
other.4 As to Pius, he had already grown suspicious of the good
faith of his “beloved son.” “ He is half a heretic, a deceiver from
1 Pius 11 to Procopius von Rabstein,
Mantua, 12 June 1459 (Pastor, Appendix 16, from Archivio Secreto del Vaticano).
2Cf. Pius
11 to Carvajal, Siena, 12 March 1460 (Raynaldus, 1460, No. 92) ; and Voigt,
iii. pp. 448-51.
3 Cf. Voigt,
vol. iii. p. 452.
4 Palacky,
Gesohichte von Btihmen, Bd. iv. (2), p. 220,
his cradle, and is
not to be trusted,” 1 he told the Milanese ambassador. Moreover, the
worst crises of Pius 11’s reign were over with the year 1461. Both at home and
abroad the position of the Papacy was improving. In the very week that the
Bohemians arrived in Rome, the French embassy came to surrender the Pragmatic
Sanction. It was not a time to make concessions. The shining example of the
French King was held up before the Bohemians, and, in an interview with
Procopius, Cardinal Bessarion pointed out that the effect of Louis xi’s
obedience had been to give him full control over the Church in his realm. “
Your King,” he added, “ has only to act in a like manner to receive a like
reward.” 2
On 20 March the
Bohemians had their first public audience with the Pope. After the customary
proffer of obedience, the Hussites petitioned for the confirmation of the
Compacts, and Pius, in a two hours’ oration, pointed out the misery and
confusion which they had brought to Bohemia. It was not, he said, a case of
confirming them but of setting them aside.3 Various other
conferences followed, which must have reminded Pius very forcibly of the
proceedings which he witnessed in his youth at Basel. Then as now the Hussites
came to argue as equals, or rather as those who had been singled out by Divine
favour for special enlightenment. Pius, as the Council before him, was prepared
to pass judgment as a superior, and to treat the Compacts, which the Hussites
regarded as their inviolable right, as a purely temporary concession. According
to the Pope’s view of the matter, the time for concession was over, and in the
final audience on 31 March he made clear his position.4 The Compacts
had been broken repeatedly by the Hussites; they had offended the Bohemian
Catholics, they had encouraged heretical beliefs, they had impeded friendly
relations between Bohemia and her
1 D. Carretto to Francesco Sforza, 12
March 1462 (Pastor, p. 225).
2 Palacky, op. cit. 3 Commentarii, vii. pp. 188-9.
1 Mansi, Pii II Orationes, vol. ii. p. 93,
neighbours, they had
proved harmful to the country’s true welfare. “ Because we desire your
salvation,” Pius concluded, “ we refuse your request.” Thereupon the Papal
procurator, Antonio da Gubbio, came forward, and read the following
declaration: “ Our most Holy Lord Pope has extinguished and destroyed the
Compacts granted by the Council of Basel to the Bohemians, and has said that
Communion under both kinds is in nowise necessary to salvation, nor will he
hold the obedience made to be real obedience until the King, uprooting and
extirpating all errors, has brought the kingdom of Bohemia into union with the
Roman Church.” 1 The decisive step had been taken, and Pius hoped
that he had put an end to George’s procrastinations and evasions and had forced
him to abandon the Utraquists. When the Bohemians came to take their leave,
Pius received them in the garden and talked confidentially and persuasively to
the Hussite leaders. He witnessed their departure in the firm belief that his
measures had succeeded, and that the submission of Bohemia would soon be an
accomplished fact.
George was now forced
to declare himself. In this respect at any rate Papal diplomacy had not erred.
Yet, contrary to Pius n’s calculations, George repudiated his coronation oath,
disregarded his repeated promises, and took his stand openly and decisively on
the side of the Hussites. His speech at the Diet of Prag in August amounted to
a declaration of war upon the Papacy. As an answer to the charge of not
fulfilling his coronation oath, he read the words of the oath to the assembled
multitude, and then said, “ in the Bohemian tongue” : “ You have heard that we
swore to renounce heresy and to rid our kingdom of heretics. Know, then, that
we have no love for heretics; but the Pope desires to treat Communion under
both kinds and our Compacts as heresy. This we never contemplated, as they are
founded on Christ’s Gospel and are an heritage of the primitive Church, granted
to us by the Council of
1 Palacky,
UrkundlicheBeitrage, p. 269 (Fontes rerum Austriacarum, xx.).
Basel in
acknowledgment of our virtue and devotion. . . . We were bom and brought up in
this Communion, and in it, by the grace of God, we have attained to kingly
dignity. We shall cleave to it and defend it, and in it we shall live and die.
Our Consort, sitting at our right hand, our children, and all who love us, must
also live in conformity with the Compacts; for we hold that there is no other
way for the salvation of our souls.” 1
Not content with
repudiating the authority of Rome in his own country, Podiebrad threw himself
into an elaborate scheme for undermining the position of the Papacy in Europe.
His agent was a certain Anton Marini of Grenoble, who startled the world by his
proposition that Christian princes and nations would never cease to cling to
Rome as long as the Holy See alone took thought for the defence of Christendom
against the Turk.2 The principal features of the scheme were the
initiation of a secular Crusade with the object of placing George of Bohemia
upon the throne of Constantinople, and the reform of the Church by means of a
General Council of European Princes. For the next two years Marini travelled to
and fro between the various Courts of Europe, endeavouring to enlist under his
banner all elements of opposition to the Papacy. Yet his scheme was too
revolutionary and fantastic even for the fifteenth century. Louis xi might
welcome his proposals as a means of bringing pressure to bear upon the Papacy,
but he had no real intention of making common cause with Bohemian heretics. The
scheme did not enlist the sympathies of Europe, and Venice only expressed
public opinion in saying that, much as she welcomed Marini’s proposals for a
Crusade, the co-operation of the Head of Christendom was necessary to give
weight to the undertaking.3 Nevertheless, the blow to Papal
prestige was
1 Palacky, TJ
rkundliche Beitrdge, p. 275. Cf. also Commentarii, lib. x.
P- 237- .
2 Cf. Palacky,
Geschichte Bohmens, iv. (2), pp. 239-40; Voigt, iii, pp. 487 seq.
3 Palacky, Urhundliche Beitrdge, pp.
289-90,
sufficiently severe,
and it sealed the failure of Pius n’s relations with Bohemia. He had hoped to
win George Podie- brad by friendly support, and then to clench his victory by a
display of firmness at the critical moment. George had used Papal support to
strengthen his hold upon Bohemia, and then, when the Papal alliance no longer
served him, he had abandoned it without scruple. Pius n had, for once,been
worsted in a diplomatic struggle. He thought to manipulate the King of Bohemia
for his own purposes ; he learned, to his mortification, that he had been used
as George’s tool.
Even after the Diet
of Prag, Pius still hoped for reconciliation. When Podiebrad constituted
himself the champion of the Emperor, and Frederick besought Pius to stay his
hand, the latter agreed to postpone proceedings against “ George, who calls
himself King of the Bohemians,” on condition that the Catholics of Breslau were
not molested.1 Yet in the end he was forced to recognise that
George’s movements towards friendship were mere attempts to gain time. In the
last Consistory which Pius held at the Vatican (16 June 1464) it was decided to
proceed against George as a perjured and relapsed heretic, and a Bull was drawn
up summoning him to Rome.2 But before the Bull could take effect
Pius 11 was no more, and the Bohemian problem remained to occasion fresh
controversy and fresh warfare during the reign of his successor.
III. Germany
If in France and
Bohemia Pius 11 found himself pitted against the forces of centralisation and
nationality, in Germany he had to contend with the many-headed monster of
disorder. A mortal sickness, said Nicholas of Cusa, had attacked the Holy Roman
Empire. Amid the general tale of weakness, irresolution, and inefficiency which
constitutes the history of the Empire at this period, one
1 Cf.
Cugnoni, pp. 145-54, and Pastor, vol. iii. p. 239.
3 Cf, Pastor, vol. iii. p. 239, and Voigt,
iii. p. 500,
policy alone was
pursued with consistency and effect— namely, the policy of the great
territorial nobles in transforming themselves from feudatories into sovereign
princes. To this land of warring interests and divided authority Pius sought to
restore some measure of unity in order that the forces of the Empire might be
concentrated upon the Crusade. The difficulties in his path were gigantic, but
his intimate knowledge of German politics was a definite asset in his favour.
Personal experience enabled him to take the measure of Imperial Diets and
Electoral Leagues, and prevented him from being too much discouraged by the
apathy of the one or unduly alarmed at the transitory opposition of the other.
Yet his former connection with Germany had one disadvantage. /Eneas Silvius had
belonged of necessity to the Imperial party, and Pius 11 found it impossible to
dissociate himself from the friendships and enmities of earlier years. Thus he
approached German politics as a partisan when he should have appeared as an
arbiter, with the inevitable result that many of his difficulties were partly
of his own making.
In 1459, the chief
element of disturbance in Germany lay in the strife between the two great
territorial families of Wittelsbach and Hohenzollern.1 Louis, Duke
of Bavaria, who headed the party of opposition to the Emperor, had laid violent
hands upon the free city of Donauwerth ; Albert Achilles, the brother of the
Elector of Brandenburg, who posed as the Emperor’s agent and ally, had been
charged with the task of punishing the outrage. Pius II knew enough of German
princes to realise that the Crusade would gain scant attention so long as the
affair of Donauwerth remained undecided, and he arranged for his legates to
act as arbiters in the dispute. Yet, whereas his impressions of Louis of
Bavaria were derived chiefly from that sunny morning when the Duke refused to
leave his hunting in order to accompany /Eneas Silvius to the Congress of
Regensburg, Albert of Brandenburg was a favourite of
1 Cf. Voigt, iii. pp. 213-9.
many years’ standing.
The ruling of the Papal legates proved so manifestly one-sided that the Wittelsbach
party refused to accept the settlement. In the spring of 1460 war broke out
with fresh vehemence, just at the time when Cardinal Bessarion arrived in
Germany to negotiate with the princes upon the subject of the Crusade.
The intrepid Greek
Cardinal embarked upon his mission in the spirit of an enthusiast and a martyr.
At the age of sixty-five he crossed the Alps in midwinter, ready for any
sacrifice that would serve the cause which he had at heart. But he was not
prepared for the blank indifference with which the whole Turkish question was
regarded in Germany. At the Diet of Niimberg, his impassioned exhortations fell
on deaf ears; and although he could not restrain his tears as he told of fresh
disasters upon the Hungarian frontier, his audience remained unmoved. “ Few
were gathered to meet him, and he received scant attention from those present,”
1 is the Pope’s poignant epitome of the proceedings. Further
deliberations were postponed until the autumn, owing to the
Hohenzollern-Wittelsbach war, but the Diet which eventually met at Vienna was
as abortive as its predecessor. Albert Achilles, who had been defeated in the
field and forced to sign a humiliating peace, was in no mood for a Crusade. Any
attempt to secure the levy of the Turkish tithe evoked opposition. The princes,
said the Chronicler of Speyer, had “ too many wars among themselves to seek
another with the Turk.” 2 To the fiery old Cardinal the situation
became intolerable, and in November he was already writing piteous letters to
Rome, begging to be recalled.
Pius 11 replied with
exhortations to patience and moderation, holding up Carvajal’s long sojourn in
Hungary as an example of persevering devotion to the Church’s cause. Yet the
fact that Diether, Archbishop of Mainz, who had sided with the Hohenzollern in
the recent war, appeared
1 Pius 11 to the German princes, 8 July
1460 (Raynaldus, 1460, No. 85).
2 Cf. Voigt, iii. p. 223.
in the party of
opposition at Vienna, did not contribute to his peace of mind.1 The
causes of Diether’s change of front lay outside the main questions at issue, in
a private quarrel with the Papacy. In 1459 Diether was made Archbishop of
Mainz, but there was some doubt as to the validity of his election, and Pius
demanded his personal appearance at the Curia before confirming him in the
possession of the see. Diether did not obey the summons, and eventually the
Bull of confirmation was given to his envoys on condition that he should come
to Italy within a year, and pay the annates which had been promised on his
behalf. But Diether, says Pius 11, “ was distinguished not so much by his noble
birth as by perfidy and ambition.” 2 Once secure of his position, he
repudiated his obligations, vowed that the payments required of him were
excessive and unprecedented, and finally had recourse to the time- honoured
device of an appeal to a General Council. Sentence of excommunication had
already been pronounced upon him when the Diet of Vienna enabled him to use the
political situation for his own ends. By placing himself at the head of the
anti-Papal, anti-imperial party, he hoped to frighten the Curia into submission
on the question of annates, and, as Primate of the German Church, to win for
himself new independence of the Papacy. "There are two objects,” the
Archbishop announced, “ upon which I have set my heart. If I can accomplish
them I shall die happy. One is that we should depose our feeble Emperor and put
a better man in his place. The other is that we should free ourselves from the
yoke of the Apostolic See.” 3 Before the year (1460) was out he had
joined with the Elector Palatine in a scheme for making George Podiebrad King
of the Romans, and for the settlement of the German Church upon lines largely
independent of the Papacy.
1 Diether was not present in person at
Vienna, but his representative took a prominent part in the opposition to
Bessarion. Cf. Pastor, iii. pp. 168-9.
2 Commentarii, lib. iii. p. 64.
3 Cugnoni, p. 207 (omitted from
Commentarii, lib. v. p. 126).
The alliance between
Diether and the King of Bohemia proved less dangerous to the Papacy than might
have been expected, owing to the fact that George, at this period, was anxious to
avoid giving offence to Pius ii.
Hard words were spoken of both Pope and Emperor at the assembly of princes at
Bamberg, but George contrived that effective opposition should be directed
against the Emperor alone. Diether, however, persisted in his enmity. In
February
1461 he threw down a fresh challenge by taking into
his service the arch-enemy of the Holy See and of its present occupant, Gregory
Heimburg. Nearly fifteen years had passed since the first round of the duel
between Heimburg and /Eneas Silvius, but the memory of his defeat still rankled
in Heimburg’s mind, and the episode of the Congress of Mantua had by no means
satiated his desire for vengeance. Thus Gregory and Diether made common cause
over their personal antipathy to Pius 11, and their alliance brought the Mainz
dispute into relation with a still more burning problem of German
ecclesiastical politics—the quarrel between Sigismund of Tyrol and Nicholas of
Cusa, Bishop of Brixen.
The origin of the
Brixen quarrel was not of Pius u’s making.1 It lay as far back as
the year 1450, when Nicholas of Cusa was appointed to the vacant see, and
determined to put his reforming principles into practice by making his own
diocese a model of organisation and discipline. Cusa’s appointment was a breach
of the Concordat of Vienna, the choice of the Chapter having been overridden in
his favour. Thus patriotic sentiment was against him from the first, and the
misplaced zeal with which he attempted to force his own standards of order upon
his flock soon brought matters to a crisis. Cusa was a mystic of the type of S.
Bernard, in that he combined all the charm and tenderness of mystical thought
with a certain harshness and rigidity in action. Aghast at the moral
degradation and lax dis-
1 The whole subject is treated
exhaustively in J&ger, Der Streit des Cardinals Nicolaus von Cusa mit
dem Herzoge Sigmund von CBsterreioh.
cipline of the
monasteries under his charge, he did not pause to consider the expediency or
possibility of carrying out drastic reforms which found no sanction in public
opinion. Journeying from monastery to monastery, he prescribed rules and put
down abuses, but the reforms which he effected hardly survived the hour when he
pronounced his farewell blessing. Among his most vehement opponents were the
nuns of Sonnenberg, a Benedictine convent under the protection of Count
Sigismund, which formed a favourite retreat for the daughters of the Tyrolese
nobility. Eventually the Abbess Verena was excommunicated by Cusa, andher
indignant nuns appealed against the sentence to Sigismund. The question then
resolved itself into a duel between Count and Bishop over their respective
rights as temporal and spiritual overlords of the convent. At the time of Pius
n’s election, Cusa had already fled from the diocese, saying that his life was
in danger; Sigismund lay under sentence of excommunication, and the rebellious
nuns had been driven from Sonnenberg by force of arms.
Despite these overt
acts of hostility, both Count and Bishop honestly desired a settlement, and Pius
n’s accession afforded some hope of bringing the matter to a peaceful
conclusion. iEneas Silvius and Nicholas of Cusa were; men of widely divergent
type, but they had been intimately associated since the days when they both
hung upon the words of Cesarini at Basel. Sigismund conceived a liking for
Eneas Silvius during the period of his sojourn at the Imperial Court. He was
the recipient of one of Eneas’s treatises on education, and he adopted him in
the double capacity of tutor and friend. Both Cusa and Sigismund, therefore,
were disposed to accept the Pope’s mediation, and Pius was sincerely anxious to
act fairly by them. Unfortunately, there were two factors in the dispute which
made the failure of attempts at settlement almost a foregone conclusion. One
was Cusa’s rigid, unsympathetic spirit; the other was the interposition of
Heimburg as Sigismund’s chief spokesman and agent.
By the time that the
Brixen quarrel came before the Pope at Mantua, the original cause of the
dispute, “ the rebellion of Jezebel,” as Cusa termed it, was at an end. The
Abbess Verena had done penance and received absolution, and a new Abbess was
reigning in her stead. But the Bishop had contrived to alienate all classes in
his diocese. The clergy resented the importation of foreign ecclesiastics from
Cusa’s native Rhineland. The nobles disliked the stricter regime imposed upon
their daughters at Sonnen- berg. The populace was alienated by the suppression
of certain annual fairs and public dances. Thus Sigismund was conscious of
having public opinion behind him, and when Cusa put forward a claim to rank as
a Prince of the Empire, and as such to reckon the Count of Tyrol among his
vassals, the opposition of his adversary was stiffened. Nevertheless, a
temporary reconciliation was obtained under the Pope’s auspices, and both Count
and Bishop agreed to leave the technical points in dispute to be determined by
legal process. Yet, owing to Heimburg’s share in the proceedings, Sigismund
quitted Mantua in doubt as to the Pope’s good faith, while Pius was left sore
and irritated by Heimburg’s spiteful references to past history, knowing that
the worst interpretation would be placed upon his actions.
Five months after the
settlement at Mantua, Cusa was a prisoner in Sigismund’s hands. The quarrel
broke out again immediately after Cusa’s return to Tyrol, and in April 1460,
when the Bishop was at Briineck, Sigismund surrounded the town with troops,
took forcible possession of Cusa’s person, and only released him after he had
signed a treaty yielding all that his captor asked. Cusa then left for Italy,
never to return, and to Pius fell the unwelcome task of punishing the outrage.
Sigismund had acted under strong provocation, but such violent measures
threatened the whole position of the Church, and Pius could not do less than
summon him to Rome for trial. Skismund replied by an appeal to a
better-instructed PoDe.
which was rather an
assumption that Pius did not know the circumstances than a defiance of his
authority. But to Pius, fresh from the Bull Execrabilis, any appeal was
obnoxious ; and on the Count’s failure to appear in Rome, sentence of
excommunication was pronounced against him. This was followed, in August 1460,
by a second appeal, drawn up by Heimburg, and calculated in its every phrase to
render the breach with the Papacy irreparable. The new appeal was disseminated
throughout Germany and Italy. It formed the prelude to a war of writings
between the Pope and Heimburg, which gave rise to great display of literary
talent, but which contributed little to the dignity of the Holy See. Pius made
the fatal mistake of descending to a personal attack upon his rival. He wrote
to the citizens of Niimberg warning them against “ that son of the devil,
Gregory Heimburg,” the instigator of Sigismund’s wrongdoing, who had composed
the “ impious and seditious appeal to a future Council. . . . For this deed,
and because he is a chatterer, a liar, presumptuous, and rebellious, we have
excommunicated him. We exhort you, therefore, to hold this pestiferous fellow
as excommunicate and deprived of the privileges of citizenship.” 1
Heimburg promptly
took up the challenge, and made a detailed indictment of Pius 11, as a private
person, as a politician, and as a Pope, which rivalled the fiercest of humanist
invectives.2 “ The Pope,” he wrote, “ calls me a chatterer, but he
himself is more garrulous than a magpie. . . . I, at least, have not despised
the precepts of Civil and Canon Law. He is content with pure verbosity, and is
of the number of those who think that everything can be ruled by rhetoric. ...
He accuses me of greed, falsehood, and rebellion ... let him consider his own
past life.” With regard to the political situation, Germany is exhorted to
hold fast that which has been gained. “ The Council is the fortress of your
liberties, the foundation-
1 Pius 11 to Nuremberg, 18 Oct. 1460 (Ep.
400, Opera, p. 932).
2 January
1461. Cf. Freher, Rer. Ger. Script., vol. ii. pp. 211-5.
stone of your
dignity.”1 The supremacy of General Councils must be recognised as
the last stronghold of resistance to Papal aggression, and Heimburg himself as
its most whole-hearted champion. “ This,” he cries, in his final manifesto, “
this is the heresy of Gregory—his constancy in resisting Papal avarice. This
is the sacrilege of Gregory—his championship of liberty, his defence of the
Holy Councils threatened by the Mantuan decree. This is his treason—he
disturbed the Papal plot for spoiling Germany.” 2
Such was the
condition of the Brixen quarrel when Heimburg entered the service of Archbishop
Diether, in February 1461, on the day before the opening of the Diet of
Niimberg. Everything combined to make this Diet the climax of German opposition
to the Papacy. At Heim- burg’s instigation, Diether issued a formal appeal to a
future General Council, and committed himself and his cause to its protection.
The rival houses of Wittelsbach and Hohenzollern united in his support, and
letters of protest were addressed to the Pope against the exorbitant demands of
the Curia with regard to the Mainz annates, and against Bessarion’s attempts to
raise money for the Crusade. To set a seal upon the whole agitation, Heimburg
was dispatched to the Court of France to consult with Charles vn over the
possibility of combined action against Pope and Emperor. A letter addressed to
Pius 11 by Cardinal Bessarion in March 1461 shows the gravity of the situation.
The complaints about the levy of Turkish tithes, Bessarion informed his
master, were the outward expression of a many-sided opposition to the Papacy.
In the first place, the Pope was regarded as “ quite devoted to the Emperor,”
and was hated by the princes for this reason alone. Hardly less serious was “
the disgraceful in-
1 Freher, Rer. Ger. Script., p. 212.
2 Apologia Gregorii Heimburg contra detractiones
et blaspkemias Theodori Laelii (Freher. pp. 228-55). The whole controversy
is given both in
in r\ o C'4’ T[/[
rtn/tnv/'ti't n T ii rvr» T r-■
gratitude of
Diether,” who paid not the slightest heed to the Papal excommunication, and in
whose household Rome was reviled daily. “ The extravagances from the pen of the
shameless heretic, Gregory Heimburg,” added fuel to the fire, which was fanned
both by the Pope’s enemies in France and by “ the perpetual complaints of Duke
Sigis- mund.” 1
Confronted by this
union of hostile forces, Pius could not but tremble for his whole position in
Germany. Yet it was precisely in these crises that his knowledge of German
methods stood him in good stead. He knew that the opposition was less
formidable than it appeared, just because there was no real union between its
constituent parts. Diether of Mainz, the Brandenburg princes, Sigismund of
Tyrol, might act together for the moment in order to serve their private ends ;
they were incapable of sinking personal interests in a common movement for the
good of Germany. Thus Bessarion’s report caused no vital change in the Papal
policy. Its chief effect was to bring to the unhappy Cardinal his long- coveted
release. Pius realised that he was ill and depressed, and that he could do no
further good in Germany. In September, Bessarion left for Rome, thankful to be
quit of a task in which his failure was already proved, and to turn his back on
a country where “ Greek and Latin culture were not esteemed.” Pius, meanwhile,
awaited the inevitable jealousies which would act upon this formidable
coalition as the summer sun upon the snows.
He had not long to
wait. The very Diet of Nurnberg which marked the triumph of the anti-Papal,
anti-imperial party contained the germ of its dissolution. George of Bohemia
had for some time past aspired to be King of the Romans, and now that the
deposition of the Emperor was actually mooted, it seemed possible that he would
attain his ambition. The Elector of Brandenburg,
1 Cardinal Bessarion to Pius 11, Vienna,
29 March 1461 (Pastor, pp. 173-5, from Archivio Secreto del Vaticano, Arm.
xxxix. T. 10, f. 3).
however, declared
that he would rather die than consent to the election of the Bohemian King.1
Thus his adherence to the party of opposition at Niirnberg was prompted by the
desire to neutralise George’s influence, and in all probability to press the
claims of his brother, Albert Achilles. Meanwhile Albert played a double game,
revealing the projects of the princes to Frederick iii " in deep secrecy,” and claiming that he had acted
throughout as the Emperor’s champion.2 George, meanwhile,
negotiated with Pius ii, offering
to restore Bohemia to the Roman obedience and to head the Crusade in person,
if the Pope would recognise him as King of the Romans. The result of these
intrigues was to unite Pope and Emperor against a common foe. “ They seek to
lay down the law to us both, and to diminish the authority of the Holy Roman
Church and Empire,” wrote Frederick to the Pope. “ It behoves us to bear one
another’s burdens in love, and to support one another with mutual counsel and
aid.” 3 Pius replied with warm words of encouragement and
friendship. " Be of good cheer; it is difficult to overthrow the
Apostolic See and the Roman Empire at the same time. Their roots are planted
too deep for the wind to prevail against them, although we who are poised on
their summit must expect to feel the blast. Our part is to persevere, and by
solid virtue to defeat the machinations of evil men.” 4
Having thus fortified
each other for the struggle, Pope and Emperor set themselves to dissolve the
opposition by the time-honoured means. Frederick sent his Marshal through Germany
in order to dissuade individual princes from attending the proposed Diet at
Frankfort. Pius commissioned his envoys to treat separately with the
1 Commentarii, lib. v. p. 126.
2 Palacky,
Geschichte von Biihmen, iv. 2, p. 179. Cf. also Voigt, iii. pp. 241-51.
3 Frederick
111 to Pius 11, 7 April 1461 ; Birk, Urkunden Ausziige zur Geschichte Kaiser
Friedrich III, 1452-67.
4 Pius 11 to Frederick in, 7 May 1461 (Ep.
22, ed. Mediolanum).
various persons who
had grievances against the Holy See. So well did these tactics succeed that,
before the time came for the Diet, the city of Frankfort had refused to receive
the assembly within its walls; Albert Achilles, the Elector Palatine, and the
Archbishop of Trier had withdrawn their appeal to a General Council; and Diether
of Mainz was practically isolated. He would probably have yielded without
further delay but for the determination of Heimburg, who persuaded the
Archbishop to receive the Diet in his own city of Mainz.
The proceedings which
took place at Mainz in May and June 1461 completed the triumph of the Papal
party. The question was raised as to whether Heimburg, being excommunicate,
should be allowed to address the Diet. Diether, however, overrode the protests
of the Papal Legates, and Heimburg spoke in his usual strain. “ His oration was
so full of blasphemies and errors that henceforth he was called not Gregorius
but Errorius.” 1 Then, in an able and trenchant speech, the Papal
envoy, Rudolf of Rudesheim, vindicated the authority and policy of the Curia. He
won a notable victory for his cause. " The Diet, persuaded by his oration,
did nothing that Diether asked. Gregory departed in confusion, and the
witnesses produced on Diether’s behalf gave evidence against him.” 2
Such is the sweeping summary of the Commentaries, and although Pius may
have overrated the influence of his representative, the fact remains that the
opposition was utterly broken down.3 Diether could only make abject
submission to the Papacy. " He called the Papal Legates to him and spake
much of what had been done, promising to be henceforth another man, to renounce
the appeal, and to obey Pius for the rest of his life.” 4 In this
1 Commentarii, lib. vi. p. 143. Pastor
(iii. p. 200) maintains that Gregory was prevented from speaking, but cf. Lesca,
p. 154.
2 Commentarii, lib. vi. p. 145.
3 Cf. Voigt, iii. pp. 254-60, who
considers the Archbishop of Trier and the Brandenburg envoys the chief
instruments of the victory.
4 Commentarii, Ub. vi. p. 145.
chastened frame of
mind he no longer required the services of Gregory Heimburg, and the latter
retired in disgust to the Court of Sigismund of Tyrol. Thus ended another round
of the duel between Heimburg and /Eneas, leaving the fruits of the victory on
the whole with the latter. But Heimburg had dealt his adversary some hard
blows. His pertinacity was unbounded, and he looked forward with undiminished
ardour to fresh encounters in the future.
The Diet of Mainz
marked a definite stage in German ecclesiastical history. From the time of the
declaration of neutrality in 1438 there had been signs of a movement for
reforming the German Church on national lines, through the concerted action of
the princes. The movement had always been tentative and feeble. It may even be
said that it had, from the first, been doomed to failure, because the princes,
with whom territorial interests were paramount, could never bring themselves to
give it persistent and whole-hearted support. A grant of privileges which would
increase his hold over the Church in his own dominions was sufficient to turn
the keenest patriot from his path. Now, however, this national reform movement
was definitely at an end. The victory of Papal supremacy over German
independence, begun by /Eneas Silvius in the Concordat of Vienna, had been
completed by Pius 11 at the Diet of Mainz. Pius had still to face considerable
opposition in Germany. The problems of Mainz and Brixen, to take the two most
prominent examples, were by no means solved. But of organised national
opposition he knew no more. His remorseless power of seeing things as they are
had pierced the hollowness of German patriotism, and his diplomacy had enabled
him to expose it.
For more than two
years after the Diet of Mainz the quarrel over the Archbishopric continued to
harass Germany. Diether’s promises were made only to be broken, and in 1461 he
was deposed from his office, Adolf
of Nassau being made
Archbishop in his stead. There followed a protracted struggle between Adolf and
Diether for the possession of the see. The quarrel became part of the great
Wittelsbach-Hohenzollern feud, and civil war devastated the unhappy diocese. At
last, in October 1462, Adolf succeeded in capturing the city of Mainz, and from
that time forward Diether became amenable to negotiation. The reconciliation was
effected by the new Archbishop of Cologne, a brother of the Count Palatine, and
in October 1463 Diether agreed to recognise Adolf as Archbishop, retaining a
certain portion of territory in his own hands. On these terms he made his peace
with the Papacy and received absolution. Meanwhile, the affairs of the Emperor,
always closely associated with those of the Pope, also took a favourable turn.
In the autumn of 1462, when he was besieged in the citadel of Vienna by his own
Austrian subjects, headed by his brother Albert, he found an unexpected ally in
George of Bohemia. “ Poor Germany, miserable Christendom,” sighed Pius 11; “
the Emperor can only be saved by a heretic King.” 1 Owing to the
heretic’s timely intervention, Frederick was able to tide over the crisis until
the death of his brother Albert in December 1463 ended his most serious
difficulties.
When his own horizon
had cleared, Frederick set himself to effect a reconciliation between the Pope
and Sigismund. “ Most Holy Father,” he wrote in February 1464, “ it is time
that this matter should be settled. The authority of the Church is too little
respected. In consideration of the times in which we live, a little indulgence
is necessary.” 2 The condition of Tyrol at this time afforded clear
proof that ecclesiastical penalties no longer commended themselves to the
conscience of the age.3 If the Papal censures had been carried into
effect, Tyrol would have been shunned
1 Pius 11 to Frederick ill, Rome, i Jan.
1463 (Ep. 39, ed. Mediol.).
2 Frederick
111 to Pius 11, 2 Feb. 1464 ; Jager, Der Streit, vol. ii. pp. 414-5.
3 Cf. Voigt, iii. pp. 396-403.
like a plague spot,
cut off from trade with her neighbours, a prey to robbers, deprived of all
ecclesiastical privileges. But in practice they were little regarded, and
Sigismund felt that he had his subjects behind him when he refused to apologise
or retract until the censures were removed. But in matters which involved the
dignity of the Holy See, Pius could be obstinate in the extreme. “ Must we recall
our actions ? ” he asked. “ Must we accuse ourselves of injustice in order
that he (Sigismund) need not acknowledge his insolence ? ” 1 At last
he yielded to the general desire for a settlement, and it was decided that the
terms of peace proposed by the Emperor should be accepted. On 25 Aug. 1464
Frederick in, acting as Sigismund’s representative, besought pardon and
received absolution from the Papal Legate. But before this final termination of
the Brixen struggle both Nicholas of Cusa and Pius 11 had ceased to live.2
Of all the combatants in the great ecclesiastical war only Gregory Heimburg
remained unrepentant and unabsolved. Champion of a lost cause as far as
Germany was concerned, he betook himself to Bohemia, trusting that the service
of the heretic King would afford scope for his lifelong opposition to Rome.
Both in Mainz and
Brixen a long-drawn-out struggle snded in the vindication of Papal authority,
and Pius had the satisfaction of knowing that he had not worked in vain.
Nevertheless, the events of his pontificate had laid bare the weakness of the
Papal power in Germany. Papal ;ensures had ceased to terrify ; clergy and laity
alike realised that they could be disregarded with impunity. Excommunicate
princes were no longer outcasts who must me for pardon in order to regain a
place in society. They regarded it as an act of condescension on their part
when :hey consented to receive absolution. Papal exactions
1 Pius 11
to Frederick iii, I March 1464;
Jager, Der Streit, Bd. ii.
). 417.
3 Cf. Pastor, iii. pp. 211-2. The Emperor
proffered his terms of >eace on 12 June. Cusa died on 11 Aug.; Pius 11 three
days later.
were a perpetual
source of friction, and the greed of the Curia had so impressed itself upon the
mind of the German nation that every action of the Pope was looked upon as a
pretext for raising money. To such a man as Heimburg, his vision filled with
the abuses of the Roman system, Pius ii’s
vindication of Papal power seemed nothing else than the triumph of evil.
Offensive in his methods and unattractive in his personality, Heimburg stood,
nevertheless, for an ideal that was worth fighting for. A national
ecclesiastical system, bred of unselfish efforts for their country’s weal on
the part of the national leaders, might have changed the course of German
history. Heimburg knew that his aims were not unworthy, and a sense of
aggrieved virtue prevented him from seeing that Germany had really nothing to
offer in the place of the present regime. Pius ii’s
victory was not that of a crafty diplomat trampling upon national
aspirations. It was the triumph of persistency and determined pursuit of an
ideal over sefishness and inconsistency. The feebleness of the opposition was
the chief cause of such measure of success as Pius achieved in Germany.
The Papacy of Pius 11
was not, and never could be, the mediaeval Papacy. To the rising nations of
Europe it was less a source of undisputed authority than a foreign power,
strong enough to be worth propitiating, and capable of being made to serve as a
useful ally. It was still, however, a force to be reckoned with, and this in
large measure owing to the tireless energy and unfailing courage of the Pope
himself. Always making the best of a situation, quick to seize every point of
vantage, slow to press matters to extremities, Pius did all that could be done
under the circumstances. Thus he left the reputation of the Papacy in Europe
higher than he found it. He showed that, in spite of its abuses, the Apostolic
See stood for ideals and aspirations nobler than the common aims of a
self-seeking age.
THE PAPAL COURT
" r | ^ HE Roman
Curia is world-wide, and there is room in it for every variety of person and H
opinion. We are acquainted with both good and evil, and you will find here
pride and humility, miserliness and extravagance, luxury and asceticism, lust
and continence, the highest virtue and the most shameless vice. It is a net
cast into the sea filled with all manner of fish. Grain and chaff lie together
on the threshing-floor, foolishness and wisdom dwell side by side. What wonder
if we sometimes do noble deeds, which win just praise, and sometimes behave in
a way that brings censure upon us and causes us to be little esteemed ? ” 1
So wrote Cardinal Piccolomini in the early days of his acquaintance with the
Roman Curia, and the description enables us to realise the nature of the Court
over which Pius ii was called to preside. It cannot be judged by the standards
of a religious community, for its principal raison d’etre was not religious
but political. As head of the Church, the chief problems with which the Pope
had to deal were those of statesmanship— all the complicated questions of law,
politics, and finance arising out of a world-wide organisation. And the Curia
was not only the centre of Church government; it was also a bureau of
international politics and the capital of the first State in Italy. It was
distinguished from the Court of Milan or Naples chiefly by its cosmopolitan
character.
1 .SLneas, Cardinal of Siena, to Sceva de
Corte, 2 Dec. 1457 (Ep. 352, Opera, p. 829).
CATHEDRAL (FACADE)
PJENZA
Here every side and
type of European civilisation mingled. The officer of the Curia must be versed
in all the niceties of European statecraft, and must know how to deal with the
motley crowd of diplomatists and warriors, scholars and princes, which streamed
into Rome. “ We are not called upon to govern heaven and the angels, but the
world and men,” said Pius to his Cardinals, “ therefore we must choose men for
the task.” 1
At the beginning of
Piusii’sreignthe College of Cardinals, alone, presented varied material to the
student of human nature. The three chief departments of the Curia—the
Pentitentiary, the Chancery, and the Camera—were presided over by Cardinals
Calandrini, Borgia, and Scarampo. Theoretically the Grand Penitentiary was the
leading member of the College; but Calandrini was a simple, hardworking man of
no great force or ability, and he was overshadowed by his more conspicuous
colleagues. At the first scrutiny of the Conclave he had received as many votes
as Cardinal Piccolomini, but he sacrificed his own chances of the Papacy in
order to combine with the other Italian Cardinals in the choice of Pius 11.
Thus it was an act of gratitude on the Pope’s part to appoint him to the vacant
office of Penitentiary. The office of Vice-Chancellor was held by Rodrigo
Borgia, the future Alexander vi, a vigorous and pleasure-loving youth of
twenty-seven, whose splendid entertainments and magnificent establishment were
the wonder of the hour. “ He looks as if he were capable of every evil,” said
the Mantuan chronicler who watched him riding to the sessions of the Congress “
in great pomp,” attended by over two hundred horsemen.2 With Pius 11
he was always on excellent terms, and he threw himself with the utmost good
nature into any project which the Pope might have on hand. Pius in return
treated him with favour and did not look too closely into his manner of life.
But there were occasions when remonstrance was
1 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 98.
2 Schivenoglia,
Cronaca di Mantova, p. 137.
imperative. When the
Curia was at Siena in the summer of 1460, Borgia invited some of the ladies of
the city to the garden of a certain Giovanni dei Bicchi, and spent some five
hours dancing and flirting in their company “ as if he were one of the common herd
of secular youths.” The husbands, fathers, and brothers of the guests were
carefully excluded, and the whole affair caused much scandal among the
respectable citizens. Pius ii’s views
on the matter are expressed in the admonitory letter which he wrote to Borgia
from Petrioli, where he was taking baths.1 “ I hear,” he wrote,
" that it has been the common talk of Siena ever since, and here at the
baths, where there are a great number of people, both clerical and lay, you
have been the subject of much gossip. ... If we were to say that this conduct
did not displease us, we should err. It displeases us more than we can say, for
the clerical order and our ministry is brought into disrepute. . . . The Vicar
of Christ who permits such things falls into the same contempt. ... We leave it
to you to judge if it becomes your station to toy with girls, to pelt them with
fruits, to hand to her you favour the cup which you have sipped, and,
neglecting study, to spend the whole day in every kind of pleasure, having shut
out husbands that you might do this with greater freedom. ... If you excuse
yourself on the ground of youth, you are old enough to understand the
responsibility of your position. A Cardinal ought to be irreproachable, an
example of conduct. . . . Let your prudence, therefore, consider your dignity,
and check this vain behaviour. If this occurs again, we shall be obliged to
show our displeasure, and our rebuke will put you to open shame. We have always
loved you and regarded you as a model of gravity and decorum ; it is for you to
re-establish our good opinion. Your years, which give hope of reformation, lead
us to admonish you as a father.”
Luigi Scarampo,
Patriarch of Aquileia, who occupied
1 Pius 11 to Cardinal Borgia, Petrioli, 11
June 1460 (Raynaldus, 1460, Nos. 31 and 32),
the post of
Chamberlain, was reputed to be the richest man in Italy after Cosimo dei
Medici.1 At the instance of Calixtus ill, he had reluctantly taken
charge of a naval expedition against the Turk, but he returned home immediately
after that Pope’s death, thankful to be rid of his task, and determined to have
nothing more to do with Crusades. His anti-crusading policy naturally
prejudiced him in Pius n’s eyes, and the two were never friends. Yet his wealth
rendered him a factor in the College which could not be neglected, and in 1463
he was honoured by a Papal visit to his magnificent palace near Albano. Here he
had acquired the ancient monastery of S. Paolo, and had turned it into a
sumptuous country house, restoring the church and laying out pleasure grounds.
Pius, “ knowing the antiquity of the place, accepted his invitation willingly,”
and did not fail to record his impressions of the visit.2 Scarampo,
he says, “planted gardens where he had once found wolves and foxes, and made it
a most pleasant place. . . . He kept animals of diverse kinds, and among them
peacocks, Indian fowls, and goats brought from Syria, which had very long
ears.” Scarampo’s detested rival was Cardinal Barbo, the splendour-loving
Venetian and connoisseur of jewellery who succeeded Pius 11 as Pope. Thus Pius
n’s death ended the Chamberlain’s political career, and he died in March 1465,
overcome with rage at the election of his enemy.
Of a very different
type from these secularly minded ecclesiastics was the German scholar and
mystic Nicholas of Cusa. At the beginning of Pius n’s reign Cusa produced a
comprehensive scheme of reorganisation which would have moulded the Church upon
the pattern of a gigantic monastery, and applied to the Catholic world at large
the discipline which failed so conspicuously in his own diocese
1 Cf. Voigt, iii. 507-8 and 543 seq. Here
it is said that no Cardinal is mentioned as Chamberlain under Pius 11, but Pius
himself constantly refers to Scarampo as “ Camerarius.”
2 Commentarii, lib. xi. p. 306,
of Brixen. Pius had
great belief in Cusa’s uprightness and ability, and he showed his confidence in
him on more than one occasion. He went so far as to embody the substance of
Cusa’s scheme in the reforming Bull which was drafted in 1460.1 But,
more discerning than his subordinate, the Pope knew that the Church could not
be reformed wholesale. Little improvements in detail, the abolition of some
peculiar abuse, or the restoration of discipline in a single monastery, did not
commend themselves to Cusa’s eager and uncompromising spirit. Such, however,
was Pius n’s way of working, and few can deny its wisdom.
Another
representative of learning in the College was the Greek Cardinal, Bessarion,
whose presence in Rome was almost the sole fruit of the attempted union with
the Eastern Church under Eugenius iv. His whole heart was in the Crusade, but
he was one of those fatally ineffective persons who only weary the world of the
causes which they champion. His knowledge of the East gave him a natural right
to speak on the Turkish question, and Pius brought him forward on every
possible occasion. Nevertheless, his orations failed to evoke enthusiasm. “ He
showed how far superior Latin eloquence is to Greek,” 2 is Pius’s
comment upon his speech at Mantua. When he preached in S. Peter’s in honour of
the reception of S. Andrew’s head, he was listened to with respectful
attention, but he could not make his hearers forget that they were tired after
the exertions of the morning, and that the hour was late.3 Bessarion
had been among the most vehement opponents of Pius ii’s election, but the Pope’s conduct at Mantua entirely
altered his opinion. Henceforth he was Pius’s warmest champion, and he was
regarded as the Pope’s favourite among the Cardinals, with the exception of
Carvajal.
This saintly Spanish
Cardinal was the object of Pius n’s
1 Cf. Pastor, iii. pp. 270-6. Cusa’s project is preserved in the State
Library at Munich (Cod. 422). The draft of Pius xi's Bull is in the
Barberini Library,
Rome.
2 Commentarii, lib. iii. p. 82. 3 Ibid., lib. viii. p. 204.
deepest
admiration. In earlier days, /Eneas had always shown his best side to Carvajal.
He had never attempted to flatter him, and had coveted his good opinion.
Carvajal for his part had regarded /Eneas with considerable disapproval, but
he soon realised that a change had taken place in the new Pope’s character.
When he saw Pius 11 struggling manfully to do his duty, and never for one
moment relinquishing his crusading policy, Carvajal forgot the slippery diplomatist
of former years, and held out the hand of friendship to the man whom he had
once despised. Early in 1462 Carvajal returned to Rome after six strenuous
years in Hungary. In the council-chamber and on the battle-field he had
laboured unremittingly for the defence of Christendom, and he had spent his
strength in the service of the Church. Old before his time, he took up his
abode in a modest dwelling in Rome, and set an example of holy living which
excited the wondering admiration of his more worldly colleagues. He was never
absent from Church festivals or meetings of the Consistory. When he had reason
to disagree with the Pope, or any of his colleagues, he never spoke as though
he wished to oppose, but contented himself with quietly stating his opinion. A
hair shirt was concealed beneath his simple robes ; he was constant in prayer
and fasting ; he spent his money in almsgiving and in the restoration of
churches. The courteous and modest bearing of the members of his household reflected
the saintly conversation of their master.1 At first sight it seems
hard to understand the appeal which this stern ascetic made to Pius 11. Yet
even in his youth complete sincerity had exercised singular fascination over
him, and years of experience of an evil world had increased his appreciation of
so rare a virtue. Moreover, Carvajal was no joyless saint. “ He never
overlooked the joys of life,” and was as anxious “ to entertain men with
innocent festivity ” as to help them in more serious ways.2 When
Pius visited Ostia in the spring of 1463, Carvajal begged
1 Commeniarii
Jacobi Card. Papiensis, p. 454. * Loc.
cit.
16
him to make an
expedition to his own Bishopric of Porto. Here among the ruins of the ancient
city, fragrant with memories of Imperial Rome, the saintly Cardinal received
his guest “ with joyful face and pleasant speech, and talked much of Trajan.” 1
Thus the two passed a happy day’s sight-seeing, and did their best to
reconstruct the bygone ages which they both loved. Pius and Carvajal founded
their friendship upon work performed together for a common cause. They enriched
it by pleasures shared together, to which each contributed the priceless gift
of enjoyment.
Pius had not long
been Pope before he began to consider the possibility of adding new members to
the Sacred College. “ A Pope,” he says, “ is not considered completely a Pope
until he creates Cardinals.” 2 Moreover, the persistent opposition
of the French party made it imperative for him to secure stronger political
support than he possessed among the Cardinals immediately surrounding him.
When he announced his intentions, in Lent 1460, he found that the College was
strongly opposed to any fresh creations. “ You have proposed persons whom I
would not have in my kitchen or stable,” grumbled Scarampo; “ for my part, I do
not see why fresh creations are necessary. There are more than enough of us, both
for service abroad and for counsel at home. Quantity cheapens everything. Our
revenues do not suffice for us, and you wish to add others who will take the
bread out of our mouths.” 3 At length Pius won the consent of the
College to five new creations. “ You will not refuse a sixth,” he said, “ if I
name one who is eminently worthy, and whom you will all praise.” 4
He named Alessandro Oliva, General of the Augustinian Order, a man of conspicuous
piety and considerable learning. Oliva’s eleva-
1 Commentarii, lib. xi. p. 303. Pius n
promoted Carvajal to be Cardinal Bishop of Porto in 1461.
2 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 97.
3 Cugnoni, p. 199 (omitted from
Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 98).
* Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 98.
tion surprised every
one, and himself most of all. “No one thought that a poor monk would be made a
Cardinal, although he was a gifted preacher of God’s word, and a holy man.” 1
During the three years of his Cardinalate, he practised the religious life as
sedulously as if he were in his cloister, and his death in August 1463 caused
genuine grief to the Pope. “Three or four Cardinals,” he said, “ might have
died without causing injury to the College, but this death inflicted a severe
wound upon the Church.” 2 The other new creations were Angelo
Capranica, Bishop of Rieti, the brother of ^Eneas’s first master; Bernardo
Erolo, Bishop of Spoleto, the head of the Apostolic Referendaries; Niccolo
Forteguerra, a relation of the Pope’s mother; Burchard, Provost and afterwards
Archbishop of Salzburg; 3 and Francesco Piccolomini, the Pope’s
young nephew, who had just taken his degree at Perugia. The worst that could be
said of Pius ii’s selection was
that it contained no one of any great eminence. Capranica and Erolo proved able
administrators of the States of the Church; Forteguerra did excellent service
as the Pope’s chief military adviser; Piccolomini enjoyed a brief tenure of the
Papacy as Pius ill. Thus Pius could congratulate himself upon adding a band of
loyal and efficient servants to the Sacred College, and he considered that he
had done well by his country in creating five Italian Cardinals at once.
Pius’s second
creation, in Advent 1461, was designed chiefly to satisfy the European powers.
The ultramontanes had been neglected in 1460, and it was imperative to do
something for France in return for the surrender of the Pragmatic Sanction. The
Cardinals, however, were even more vehemently opposed to fresh creations than
they had been in the previous year—“ they shut up their ears like asps, and could
not be persuaded.” 4 Having
1 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 98.
2 Cugnoni, p. 229 (omitted from
Commentarii, lib. xii. p. 329).
3 Burchard’s nomination was not published
until the creation of the other non-Italian Cardinals in 1461.
‘Cugnoni, p. 214
(omitted from Commentarii, lib. vii. p. 183).
failed to move them
in Consistory, Pius fell back on the expedient of winning over the Cardinals
severally. The conversations which ensued give an unedifying picture of the
by-ways of Papal diplomacy.1 Scarampo and Colonna were chiefly
anxious to prevent the elevation to the purple of Bartolomeo Vitteleschi,
Bishop of Cometo. Orsini was known to favour his candidature. Pius, therefore,
first approached Orsini, and begged him, in the interests of his friend
Vitteleschi, not to oppose his wishes. When he remained obdurate, Pius turned
to Scarampo and Colonna, and gained their consent to his other nominations on
condition that Vitteleschi was excluded.
Many of the Cardinals
objected strongly to Jean Jouffroy, Bishop of Arras; and his own countryman,
Alain, Cardinal of Avignon, entreated Pius not to admit such a firebrand into
the Sacred College. “ There will be no peace or quiet in the College from this
time forward. He will sow discord and nourish faction. ... You will live to
repent of your action, and to say to yourself, ‘ Would that I had believed
Alain ! ’ ” “ What you say is only too true, Alain,” Pius replied. “We know the
man, and you have painted him as he is. But what can we do ? . . . Arras is
learned, eloquent, and bold, as you say. He is our legate at the French Court,
and both the King and the Duke of Burgundy wish him to be made a Cardinal. We
have been promised the abolition of the Pragmatic Sanction, which is of all
things most harmful to the Apostolic See. If we refuse the King’s prayers, the
Pragmatic will continue to have force in France. If Arras knows that he is
rejected, he will rage like a dragon, and turn all his strength against the
Papacy. ... We confess that it is dangerous to include him among the Cardinals,
but it is still more dangerous to exclude him. Of two evils, we must choose the
lesser.” Alain yielded to the Pope’s arguments, but the Cardinal of Arras
became, as he foretold, a 1 Cugnoni, pp. 214-8.
perpetual source of
annoyance to Pius 11. He thwarted his projects in every possible way, more
especially with regard to the Crusade, and he scandalised Rome by his vicious
habits. At last, in the autumn of 1463, he left for France, and the whole Curia
rejoiced at his departure.1
With Nicholas of Cusa,
Pius began by adopting the methods of flattery, talking to him confidentially
about the difficulties of the situation, and explaining to him the absolute
necessity of propitiating the French King. “ There is no one in whom we have
greater confidence than you, brother ; if every one else fails us, we know that
you will remain true. . . . You, who love us, will aid us in this matter.” But
Cusa’s will could not be bent by considerations of expediency, and he met
Pius’s advances by a furious outburst against Pope and Curia. " I have
long thought that you hated me, 0 Pope,” he replied; “ now I am certain of it,
for you have asked of me that which I cannot perform without disgrace. You
intend to make new Cardinals at your own pleasure, without urgent cause, in
defiance of the oath which you swore in the Conclave, both before and after
your election, that you would not create Cardinals save with the consent of the
majority of the College, and in accordance with the Constance decrees. And you
wish to make me an accomplice of your sin. ... If you can bear the truth, I
will tell you that I am ill-pleased with everything that goes on in the Curia.
It is all corrupt. No one does his work properly. Neither you nor the Cardinals
care for the welfare of the Church. What observance is there of the canons ?
What reverence for the law ? What zeal in the practice of religion ? Ambition
and avarice are paramount. If I speak of reform, I am laughed at. I cannot
tolerate these proceedings. Let me go into the wilderness and live my own
life.” So saying, the unhappy Cardinal burst into tears. He was treated to a
severe scolding from the Pope, who proved to him in detail that no oath 1
Cf. Cugnoni, pp. 230-3, and Commentarii, lib. xii. p. 343.
was violated and no
decree set aside by treating separately with the Cardinals. It was presumption
on Cusa’s part to censure the Pope’s proceedings; and as for his complaint
that no one did 'NtheiiJ duty, if he deserted the Curia at this
juncture, he would be the worst offender. Cusa left the Pope’s presence
speechless and ashamed. “ After this,” observes Pius complacently, “ he became
gentler, and abandoned much of his foolish rigidity, showing that the Pope’s
reproofs were not in vain.” The scene is an illuminating commentary upon the character
of the two persons concerned. For Cusa there was no such word as compromise ;
he knew the letter of the law, and was determined to enforce it. Pius ii’s diplomatic manoeuvres appeared to
him in the light of a criminal surrender to the methods of the wicked world.
Yet in the tangled skein of fifteenth-century politics, what could a poor Pope
do but compromise ? Pius was no warrior-saint, but a man of the world, with
wide experience and no illusions, who was doing his utmost to steer the bark of
S. Peter in the right course. What he asked of Cusa was the recognition that
their ultimate aims were the same. If he were convinced of his sincerity, Pius
thought, surely he could accept his methods as the outcome of stem necessity.
When the Consistory
met again, no one opposed the Pope’s wishes, and he named six persons whom he
proposed to raise to the purple. The three new ultra- montanes were the Bishop
of Arras, Prince Louis d’Albret, and the Spaniard, Don Jayme de Cordova.
Francesco Gonzaga, the son of the Marquis of Mantua, wTas also of
the nature of a “ Crown ” Cardinal. His admission to the College caused great
rejoicing at the Mantuan Court, and both Poliziano’s verse and Mantegna’s
painting helped to celebrate the occasion. The new Cardinal was only seventeen,
but he looked older than his age, and “ he was a grey-beard in gravity and
wisdom.” 1 Mean-
1 Commentarii, lib. vii. p. 184.
while the Pope took
the opportunity to add two of his own friends to the list. Bartolomeo
Roverella, Archbishop of Ravenna, was a friend of yEneas’s secretarial days,
and had recently distinguished himself as Papal Legate in the Neapolitan war.
Jacopo Ammanati, Bishop of Pavia, was Pius n’s most faithful friend and
disciple. “ We are not Cardinals but traitors,” grumbled Cardinal Tebaldo, when
he saw that the Pope’s nominations would be accepted. “ The dignity of the
office is destroyed. If the Pope commands us to add three hundred persons to
our numbers, I shall not oppose him.” 1 Pius had won the day. He had
satisfied the European powers, and had strengthened his own party in the
College. But the means by which he gained his end show that a good deal o: the
old /Eneas had survived his elevation to the Papacy.
When the humanist
Pope ascended the throne of S. Peter, the scholars of Italy hailed his election
as the dawn o' a golden age. “ In the eyes of all distinguished and cultured
men, you have arisen like a sun, dispersing the mists of darkness,” 2
wrote Filelfo; and he and many another humanist looked forward to a return of the
happy days of Nicholas v. But they were sadly disillusioned. Pius wa; ready to
recognise merit, but he knew too much of the mder-world of literary adventurers
to care for their flatteries. His critical taste made him a severe judge of the
mediocre productions of professional humanists, and he preferred that his
literary reputation should rest upon his own writings rather than upon his
patronage of other scholars. The crowd of copyists, collectors, translatoB, and
versifiers did not reappear in Rome. Instead, 1here was a Pope who composed his
own Bulls, and who tvas surrounded by a select company of kindred spirts,
friends and companions rather than Court
1 Cugnoni p. 218.
2 F. Filelo to Pius 11,
1 Nov. 1458. Cf. Voigt, iii. pp. 606-7, and Rosmini, ViU di Filelfo, vol. ii.
p. 104. #
humanists. The few
eminent scholars of the day, however, did not go unrewarded. Lodrisio Crivelli
and Bartolomeo Platina both held posts in the Curia, and the learned historian
Flavio Biondo found in Pius an appreciative patron. The Pope liked to have
Biondo with him upon his expeditions, in order that the old antiquarian might
act as his guide to the classical remains. His book on Roman antiquities, Roma
Triumphans, was dedicated to Pius 11, and his great historical work, the
Decades, was “ imbellished and corrected ” by the Pope himself.1 “
Biondo’s eloquence,” say Pius, "was far removed from that of the ancients,
and he did not revise his writings carefully enough ; he thought less of the
truth of what he wrote than of the amount. . . . But,” he adds, “ some people
might say the same of us, for although we write what is true, nevertheless ours
is rough, ill-digested history. Perchance another may bring our researches and
those of Biondo to light, and may thus reap the fruit of our labour.” 2
Francesco Filelfo was
almost the sole survivor of the great generation of humanists, and to him Pius
showed rather cold courtesy. He awarded him a pension of two hundred ducats a
year, but when Filelfo proposed to come and settle in Rome, the Pope advised
him to enjoy his pension in Milan.3 In spite of the rebuff, Filelfc
and his tw© sons soon made their appearance at the Curia, bent upon making
their fortunes at the Pope’s expense Filelfo first endeavoured to approach Pius
through Anmanati, sending him part of the Sforziade for criticism, aid making
flattering remarks that he hoped would be hanied on to the Pope. But Pius
refused to be drawn into a literary correspondence. In his younger days he
deligated in a lengthy discussion upon a point of scholarship, anc welcomed
1 Pius, Pont. Max., Abbreviationem Flavii
Blondii (Opera, pp. 144-281).
2 Commentarii, lib. xi. p. 310.
3 Ammanati to Filelfo, Jacobi Card. Pap.
Epistolae, No. 15, p. 467.
any subject that
afforded opportunity for elegant writing. Now, however, he was too'old and too
much occupied for dilettante composition. When Filelfo pointed out a mistake of
grammar in one of his poems, he thanked him for his correction, and said that
he feared it would be only too easy for the idle to find similar errors in the
writings of a busy man like himself.1 Ere long Filelfo exchanged
flattery for abuse. He made an anonymous attack upon Pius during his lifetime,
and did his best to blacken his memory after death. When the news of the Pope’s
death reached him, he, who had likened his accession to the sunrise, called
upon the poets and Muses to rejoice that God had taken Pius from their midst.2
Pius ii’s small circle of intimates, the men
whom he chose as the companions of his daily life, reflect two notable features
of his character—his love of home and his unconventionality. The two private
secretaries who wrote at his dictation and helped him with his literary work
were both Sienese. One was his cousin, Goro Lolli, the friend and comrade of
his student days ; the other, Agostino dei Patrizzi, was also a University
friend. Relations and fellow-citizens of the Pope held all the chief posts in
the Curia, and Pius had no difficulty in convincing himself that they were
chosen entirely upon their merits. To be a Sienese was in itself a title to
reward in his eyes, and the greatest honour which he could confer upon a friend
was to obtain for him the citizenship of Siena. Two of his closest companions,
however, were neither Sienese nor friends of his youth. Jacopo Ammanati’s
career was not unlike Pius ii’s. He came to Rome as a struggling scholar
1 Jacobi
Card. Papiensis, Ep. 25.
8 Gralulatio de morte Pii II (Rosmini, Vita di Filelfo,
vol. ii. p. 320)—
“ Gaudeat orator,
Musae gaudete Latinae ;
Sustulit e medio quod Deus ipse Pium.
Ut bene consuluit doctis Deus omnibus aeque,
Quos Pius in cunctos
se tulit usque gravem.
Nunc sperare licet.
Nobis deus optime Quintum Reddito Nicoleon, Eugeniumve patrem.”
in the days of
Nicholas v, and began his career, as /Eneas before him, in the service of
Cardinal Capranica. The legend goes that he threw up his post because the
austere Capranica tore up his literary compositions in order to teach him
humility.1 Under Calixtus in he became an Apostolic secretary, and
Pius confirmed him in his office on the very day of his own election. From
henceforth Ammanati enjoyed the Pope’s special favour. He was made Bishop of
Pavia in 1460, a Cardinal in 1461, and he was adopted into the Piccolomini
family. Before everything a humanist, his relation to Pius 11 was that of a
literary disciple. His letters and Commentaries are a faithful imitation of
those of Pius 11, and he carried on the Pope’s great work for the five years
which succeeded his death. Pius, says Ammanati’s biographer, loved him not only
for his literary talents, but for his sound judgment and stainless honesty.2
He lived in high favour at the Papal Court, free from all taint of corruption,
and he left it a poor man.3 He shared the Pope’s love of country
life and was fond of hunting. Although somewhat lacking in force, he was
doubtless a sympathetic companion. His affection for Pius 11 was the ruling
motive of his life.
The Pope’s other
favourite, the jovial epigrammatist, Giovanni Campano, was a man of very
different character. He began life as a shepherd boy, and raised himself by his
own efforts to the position of a University lecturer at Perugia. He first came
to the Curia in 1459, as a member of the Perugian embassy of congratulation to
Pius 11, and Ammanati introduced him to the Pope’s notice. The portrait which
he gives of himself shows that he owed nothing to his appearance. Short, stout,
and awkward, with shaggy eyebrows and spreading nostrils, he was at a loss to
know with what wild beast to compare himself.4
1 Vespasiano, Card. Domenico Capranica, §
3.
2 Jacobus Volaterranus, Preface to Com.
Card. Papiensis, p. 352.
3 Voigt, iii. p. 540.
4 Campanus, Opera (Rome, 1595) ;
Epistolae, lib. iii., “ Dulciboni suo.”
But he had a keen wit
and a picturesque, forcible style, and he had proved his powers as an historian
by a life of the condottiere Braccio. No one could be less like the typical
Court poet than this burly peasant, yet such was his virtual office at the
Curia. He produced epigrams and witticisms on every occasion, and Pius showed
his appreciation of them by quoting them largely in the Commentaries. When
Campano was made a Bishop, the honour was not all joy to him. His cassock
impeded his movements, and Ammanati told him that it was not suitable for a
Bishop to make puns. He was full of affectionate gratitude towards Pius 11. “
He has made you great,” he wrote to Ammanati, “ and has raised me above
mediocrity. Therefore we ought above all things to add to his pleasure and
reputation.” 1
Campano’s Life of
Pius 11 is full of little intimate details which would only be known to one who
was constantly with him.2 He, Ammanati, and Goro Lolli were the
Pope’s comrades rather than his servants. With them Pius could lay aside his
dignity, and jest and gossip in the friendly, informal way that had won him so
many friends in the past. Ammanati’s description of a day’s holiday from
Mantua, at the time of the Congress, gives a charming picture of Pius n’s life
in the society of these chosen companions.3 “ While he was at
Mantua Pius fell dangerously ill, and when he began to recover, he craved for a
little diversion in order to help him regain strength. He decided to pay a few
days’ visit to a monastery called degli Angeli,4 three miles distant
from Mantua; and in order to make the journey more agreeable, he travelled by
way of the Mincio. The Pope was accustomed to turn to us when he was in
1 Campano to Ammanati (Card. Pap., Ep. 30,
p. 472).
2 Given in the Basel edition of Pius ii’s works.
3 Jacopo Ammanati to Francesco Piccolomini.
The party included Lorenzo Roverella, the brother of the Archbishop, and
Agapito di Cenci dei Rustici, a Roman poet of some repute (Jac. Card. Pap., Ep.
49, p. 498).
4 The famous sanctuary of S. Maria delle
Grazie.
need of relaxation,
and so we were commanded to embark upon the same boat as himself.” The party
set out in a holiday mood, and Goro Lolli brought with him some congratulatory
verses dedicated to Pius, which he had not yet had an opportunity of hearing.
“We thought that this was a good time to read them, as they would amuse the
Pope on his holiday; for he enjoyed having poetry read aloud to him during his
leisure hours.” Ere long the reading inspired the present company to impromptu
rhyming, and light verses were bandied from mouth to mouth. Pius laughed
heartily at the witticisms of his friends, and soon contributed his share to
the entertainment. It was remarked that all the poets contrived to ask for
something in their verses, and Campano delighted the party by a poem in which
he said that gifts ought not to be given to those who asked, but to those who
did not ask, at the same time hinting that he himself was among the deserving.
Pius made an appropriate repartee, and then produced the following epigram :—
“ Discite pro numeris
numeros sperare poetae,
Mutare est animus
carmina non emere.” 1
Unfortunately, this
somewhat incautious jest survived, and excited the anger of every humanist who
heard it. It was quoted as a proof of the Pope’s contempt for poetry and of his
determination to do nothing for the class to which he had once belonged. In
defence of his master, Ammanati told the story of the epigram’s origin, and
showed that “ it was not premeditated, nor composed in dispraise of poets, but
improvised at the moment for the entertainment of the company.” It was a gay,
warm-hearted circle of friends that surrounded this most unconventional of
Popes, and when Pius n was laid in his grave it seemed to them as if all the
colour were gone out of life. Ammanati,
1 " Take poets for your verses, verse
again
My purpose is to
mend, not buy your strain.”
(Creighton’s
translation, History of the Papacy, vol. iii. p. 350.)
Campano, Goro Lolli,
and Cardinal Piccolomini wrote constantly to each other of the happy days that
were over. To live again in the memories of “ our Pius ” became the chief
pleasure of their existence.
It is not easy to
associate the genial hero of Ammanati’s reminiscences with the spiritual
suzerainty of the Church or the guardianship of faith and morals. But Pius was
never primarily an ecclesiastical personage. He was a man of letters who was
also a devout Catholic, and as his office required him to fulfil high
ecclesiastical functions, he did so to the best of his ability. Nevertheless,
the history of his Pontificate shows that the practical and emotional side of
the Catholic faith appealed to him more than its intellectual aspect. His was a
religion of the heart and the eye rather than of the intelligence. Even in his
most unregenerate days he was content to accept the Creed of the Church without
criticism, and he never had the faintest sympathy with heresy. In the first
year of his Pontificate, he issued a Bull condemning Reginald Pecock, the
heretical Bishop of Chichester, and ordering his writings to be burned.1
His endeavours to repress incipient heresy in France and Italy afford another
example of his stern orthodoxy.2 He was curiously uninterested in
theological speculation. In 1462 he endeavoured to settle a quarrel which raged
between Dominicans and Franciscans by summoning both sides to a disputation in
Rome. The account which he gives of the proceedings in the Commentaries is
clear proof of his indifference with regard to the point at issue.3
On Easter Day 1462,
Fra Giacomo della Marca, a prominent Franciscan, maintained in the course of
his sermon at Brescia that “ the Blood of Christ shed on the ground during the
Passion was not an object of worship, since it was separated from the Divine
Person.” This was an old
1 Raynaldus, 1459, No. 29.
2 Cf. Voigt, vol. iii. pp. 580-3, and
Pastor, vol. iii. p. 286.
3 Commentarii, lib. xi. pp. 278-92.
subject of dispute,
and the Dominicans at once took up the challenge. To Pius it seemed that Fra
Giacomo had made a great mistake in raising the question. He fell, said the
Pope, into " a common error of popular preachers,” and “ for the sake of
showing his own learning, touched upon many matters which he would have done
better to leave alone.” 1 But in the interests of peace it was
necessary to judge between the disputants, and for three days the matter was
argued in the Pope’s presence. Afterwards the subject was discussed privately
among the Cardinals, of whom the majority sided with the Dominicans. “ Pius
agreed with the majority, but it did not seem to him a suitable time to publish
his decision, lest the numbers of Minorites employed in preaching against the
Turk should be offended.” So the decision was postponed, to the satisfaction of
all parties concerned. The Dominicans realised that the Pope was on their side,
and the Franciscans were relieved that judgment had not been given against
them. As for Pius, he was content to have ended a quarrel which prevented the
two great Mendicant Orders from doing more practical work.
As became a disciple
of S. Bernardino, Pius was an enthusiastic patron of the Observantists, the
reformed branch of the Franciscan Order. Both at Tivoli and at Sarzana the
Conventual Franciscans were ordered to make way for the Observantists, and the
privileges granted to the latter by Eugenius iv were revived. The reform of
monastic discipline, in general, appealed to the Pope’s practical mind, and it
was a matter to which he gave great attention. He caused a Chapter of the
Dominican Order to be held at Siena to discuss the question of reform, and on
finding that the chief cause of abuse was the corrupt General, Martial
Auribelle, he deposed him from his office.2 The Carmelites of
Brescia, the Humiliati of Venice, and the convents of the Order of Vallombrosa,
all owed some
1 Commentarii, lib. xii. p. 278.
2 Cugnoni, p. 224 (omitted from
Commentarii, lib. x. p. 262).
measure of reform to
Pius 11, and model communities, such as that of the Benedictines of S. Justina
at Padua, were singled out for favour.1
Thus the humanist
Pope proved himself a zealous practical reformer, and he had an artist’s love
of ritual. No one can read the description of Roman ceremonial which he wrote
during his Cardinalate without realising how deeply the ordered beauty of
Catholic worship impressed itself upon his soul. “ If you once saw the Pope
celebrating Mass, or assisting at the Divine Office, you would confess that
there is no order, or pomp, or splendour save with the Roman Pontiff. You would
see the Pope sitting high upon his throne, the Cardinals on his right, and the
great prelates on his left. Bishops, Abbots, Protonotaries, ambassadors, all
have their place. Here are the Auditors, there the Clerks of the Camera; here
the Procurators, there the Subdeacons and Acolytes. Below them are the
multitude. Surely you would recognise that the Papal Court resembles the
celestial hierarchy, where all is fair to the eye, and all is done according to
rule and law.” 2
The Sacraments and
ceremonies of the Church were, in truth, the centre of Pius ii’s religious life. His reign is famous
for some of the most splendid ecclesiastical ceremonies of the Renaissance,
and perhaps the most glorious of all was the Festival of Corpus Christi, as
celebrated by the Pope and Cardinals at Viterbo in 1462.3 In an
earlier passage of the Commentaries, Pius tells the story of the origin of this
feast, which had always been peculiarly dear to him. “ A certain priest of
Bolsena doubted the presence of the divine and human nature of Christ our
Saviour in the Sacrament of the altar. One day, while he was celebrating Mass,
his faith was compelled by the sight of the Bleeding Host before him, and by
the sign of the miraculous Blood upon the corporal in which it lay. This
1 Cf. Pastor, vol. iii. pp. 277-80.
2 Germania, p. 1080 (Opera).
3 Commentarii, lib. viii. pp. 208-11.
miracle was
recognised and approved by Pope Urban iv (1263), and the Festival of the Most
Blessed Body of Christ was instituted. It has since been celebrated each year
with the greatest devotion and honour throughout the whole Christian world.”1
In 1462, Pius determined to observe the festival with unwonted splendour. The
gravest political troubles of his reign were over. He was about to spend a
happy summer’s holiday in his beloved Tuscany, and, as he tarried at Viterbo in
the bright May weather, everything seemed to combine in the call to rejoice.
The Pope was staying
in the Rocca, at the northern end of the town, near the Church of S. Francesco,
and from here to the Cathedral the way was one continuous pageant. Rich
tapestries of purple and cloth of gold adorned the houses, triumphal arches of
flowering broom, myrtle, and laurel spanned the streets. All the trade-guilds
of Viterbo combined with the members of the Curia in the work of decoration.2
The First Vespers of the Festival were celebrated in a temporary building
erected near the Rocca. “ The sun was still high, and its rays penetrated
through the rainbow-hued hangings. . . . The choir sang as sweetly as angels ;
the lights were arranged with admirable skill to imitate the starry heaven ;
the voices blended with the instruments in sweetest harmony ; the whole scene
resembled Paradise.” Early the next morning a great procession started for the
Cathedral. The Pope himself bore the Host, and he was supported by “ seventeen
Cardinals, twenty-two Bishops, and many other dignitaries.” First on the route
came the houses decorated with the magnificent Arras tapestries of the French
Cardinals. Near them was a representation of the Last Supper and the
Institution of the Eucharist, prepared by Cardinal Torquemada. By the principal
group he had placed a figure of S. Thomas Aquinas, “ as if he were ordering
the due observance of the sacred rite.” Carvajal’s
1 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 111.
s Niccola della Tuccia, Cronaca di Viterbo, pp. 84-7.
contribution was a
great dragon surrounded by horrible demons, and as the Pope passed by S.
Michael appeared in full armour, dispersed the demons, and cut off the dragon’s
head. As usual, the decorations of Cardinal Borgia surpassed all others in
splendour and ingenuity. When the Pope approached Borgia’s precincts a large
tent covered with purple hangings barred the way, and two boys dressed as
angels advanced and sang, “ Lift up your heads, O ye gates, and King Pius will
come in.” But five kings and a band of soldiers held the entrance. “ Who is
King Pius ? ” they cried. “ The angels, in honour of the Sacrament which he
carried, answered, ‘ He is the Lord, strong and mighty.’ ” Immediately the
barriers were thrown down, the sound of pipes and organs was heard, and the
whole company knelt before the Pope singing songs of welcome. Inside the tent
was a fountain flowing with water and wine, symbolising the Blessed Sacrament,
besides many other historical and allegorical figures, " which arrested
the gaze not only of the ignorant multitude, but of cultivated men.” Before the
Palazzo del Commune, Cardinal Forteguerra had prepared an elaborate tableau of
the Resurrection. The Holy Sepulchre stood in the middle of the Piazza with the
soldiers sleeping by it, and near them the watching angels, “ who would not
suffer the bride-chamber of the heavenly Spouse to be violated.” When the Pope
drew near, “ suddenly a beautiful boy, let down by a rope, descended like an
angel from heaven and proclaimed the approaching Resurrection.” A breathless
silence followed, which was broken by the sound of thunder, and then “ he who
played the part of the Saviour drew all eyes upon himself.” With the banner of
the Cross in his hand, and a shining diadem on his head, he announced in
Italian verse that the salvation of the world had been won.
Other lesser marvels
followed, until at length the Pope reached the Cathedral, where High Mass was
celebrated by Cardinal Barbo. When the Pope came out on to the Piazza to bless
the people after Mass, a repre- 17
sentation of the
Assumption of the Virgin took place under Cardinal de Mila’s auspices. On the
housetops was seen the Court of heaven, with God sitting in glory amid stars
and choirs of angels. Below, in the Piazza, lay the Virgin’s tomb, from whence
a lovely maiden rose up to heaven, supported by angelic hands and dropping her
girdle as she went. “ Her Son came to meet her, and kissed His Mother upon her
forehead. He presented her to the Eternal Father, and seated her upon His right
hand. Then the legions of celestial spirits sang and exulted and sounded
instruments of music. All heaven rejoiced, and so the ceremonies closed.” After
this the Pope and several of the Cardinals dined with Cardinal de Mila in the
adjacent palace, where “ pleasant conversation rendered the hours short.” Then
came a short interval for repose, before Vespers and the return along the processional
route. It was a day that lived long in the annals of the city, and no one
entered more thoroughly into the spirit of the festival than did the Pope himself.
“ Whoever visited Viterbo that day,” he concludes, “ and saw these wonders,
must have thought that he had come not to the abode of men but to the realms
above, and that he had seen the vision of the celestial city alive and in the
flesh.” 1
1 Cf. for the whole ceremony, Commentarii,
lib. viii. pp. 208-11, and Niccola della Tuccia, pp. 84-7.
WHEN Pius ii became Pope nothing gave him more
genuine pleasure than the thought that his greatness would add to the
prosperity and prestige of Siena. “ The first care of his pontificate was to
serve his country. He went to Siena, and fed his starving people with apostolic
nourishment. He filled the city and con- tado with plenty. He established peace
in the commonwealth. He allayed fear, both of internal and external foes.” 1
This description of the benefits which Pius conferred upon his native city is
perhaps more true of his intentions than of his achievements. He meant all that
was good by Siena, but unfortunately he differed from the majority of his
fellow-citizens with regard to the means by which the internal welfare of the
Republic should be promoted. His ideal for the good government of Siena was a
constitution in which all the five Monti or factions had their share. His first
object was to restore his own Monte dei Gentiluomini to power, but he also
pleaded for the enfranchisement of the Dodicini, a faction which included many
rich merchant families, and which was at that time wholly deprived of the
rights of citizenship.2 He was deeply impressed by the evils
attending on a city divided against itself. The exiles without the city
striving to return, and their friends and relations within, secretly supporting
them, undermined the stability of the State. If
1 Jacobi Card. Pap., Ep. 71, p. 517.
2 Cf. Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 101.
259
the Pope could have
had his way, the very names of the rival factions would have been abolished,
and instead of five warring Monti he would have had one people. “ The guardian
of cities is concord,” he pleaded, “ and concord will protect this city, and
unite you for ever, if only justice, the mother and queen of virtues, is
permitted to reign over you.” 1
The wisdom of Pius
n’s ideals are manifest, but they represented a conception of government
altogether foreign to the average citizen of Siena. “ What could be more
foolish than to admit to membership in the State those who would promptly eject
you from it ? ” 2 asked a member , of the party in power when Pius
n’s proposals were debated in the Council. Any idea of broadening the basis of
government was abhorrent to the enfranchised classes. Their less fortunate
neighbours could only be regarded as enemies, and their object was to depress
them by taxation and proscription in order to postpone the evil day when the
political situation would be reversed, when the exiles would return to power,
and at once proceed to exclude their late oppressors from a share in the government.
The citizens of Siena were determined not to enfranchise the nobles, and Pius n
was equally determined to have his own way. Thus from first to last the
political contest embittered the relations between our hero and his “ sweet
city.” It is true that in the burst of enthusiasm which followed the news of
the election of a Sienese Pope, the Piccolomini were at once admitted to full
political power.3 But this was a measure which commended itself to
public opinion in Siena, whereas the enfranchisement of the Gentiluomini as a
class evoked the strongest opposition. When Pius stayed in Siena on his way to
Mantua in 1459, the citizens consented to discuss the constitutional question
with him, although his requests seemed to them
1 Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 45. 2 Ibid., lib. viii. p. 215.
3 Cf. Malavolti, De’ fatti e guerre de'
Sanesi) p. 61, and Thomasius,
Hist.
Sen., p. 57.
“ difficult to
refuse, and still more difficult to grant.” 1 A compromise was
finally arrived at by which the Gentiluo- mini were admitted to all the honours
of citizenship, and to a fraction of political power. This decision was hailed
with general thanksgiving, and nobles and people embraced one another
rapturously in the streets. One and all turned their backs upon a trying
controversy, and gave themselves up to rejoicing in the possession of a
Sienese Pope, present among them in the flesh. Meanwhile Pius 11 doled out
favours to his fellow-citizens with a generous hand. On Sunday in Mid-Lent, he
presented to the Prior of the Republic the golden rose, which is still
preserved in the Opera del Duomo at Siena. The fortress of Radicofani, hitherto
a bone of contention between Siena and Orvieto, was granted in perpetuity to
the Republic. Siena was raised to the dignity of an archbishopric, and
proceedings were set on foot for the canonisation of Caterina Benincasa,
henceforth to be revered as S. Catherine of Siena.2
It was a happy turn
of fortune that enabled one of Siena’s two most famous children to be the means
of doing honour to the other. S. Catherine, the ascetic visionary and political
reformer, belongs to a different world from that of the humanist Pope. But wide
as is the gulf which separates them, they are united both by their services to
the Papacy and by their love of Siena. Pius n’s heart glowed with patriotic
pride when, two years later, the formalities were concluded, and he announced
to the multitude assembled in S. Peter’s that “ Catherine’s name was written
upon the roll of the Saints.” 3
Meanwhile the quarrel
between the Pope and the Republic had broken out afresh. The citizens of Siena
regarded the compromise of 1459 as the utmost limit of their concessions to the
nobility, while Pius looked upon it
1 Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 46.
2 Decrees ordering the Process of
Canonisation are to be found at Siena, dated 19 May 1459. The Canonisation was
finally announced on 29 June 1461. Cf. Pastor, iii. pp. 290-3.
3 Commentarii, lib. v. p. 135.
as a prelude to the
grant of more extensive privileges. Thus the intercourse between them consisted
mainly in renewed pressure from the Pope, and repeated attempts to evade his
requests on the part of the Sienese. At last the citizens persuaded themselves
that Pius ii’s interference was becoming
a serious menace to the Republic. The nobles, they insisted, were encouraged by
his support to conspire against the government, and the citizens lived in
hourly dread of an armed attack. Those of the nobility who remained within the
city were threatened with imprisonment or exile if the present state of unrest
continued. In despair, they addressed a petition to the Pope, begging him to
desist from further efforts on their behalf.1 This was in the summer
of 1462, and Pius showed his displeasure with the Republic by not once entering
Siena throughout the course of a long summer holiday in Tuscany. From henceforth
he abandoned his attempts at political reform. His last visit to Siena, only a
few months before his death, was unspoiled by controversy. Nevertheless, the
citizens continued to look upon the nobles with suspicion, and before Pius was
cold in his grave the modicum of political power granted to the Gentiluomini had
been taken away. " It was indeed an unworthy thing,” writes a Sienese
chronicler, “ that the measures brought about by so great a Pope, and by one
who had deserved so well of his city, should be rescinded almost immediately
after his death.” 2
Thwarted in his
designs for Siena, Pius sought consolation in the advancement of the
Piccolomini and in the creation of Pienza. Silvio and Vittoria Piccolomini had
not lived to see their son’s elevation to the Papacy. At the time of Pius’s
accession his father had been dead eight years, and his body lay in the little
Church of S. Francesco at Corsignano. After four years of widowhood, Vittoria
died in Siena, and was buried by the Franciscans of that
1 Commentarii, lib. viii. pp. 214—5.
2 F. Thoraasius, Hist. Sen., p. 62.
city. Pius now caused
a beautiful marble tomb to be erected in the Church of S. Francesco in Siena,
and thither the remains of Silvio Piccolomini were brought to rest beside those
of his wife.1 The tomb has since been destroyed by fire, but the
medallions of Silvio and Vittoria, with a scroll bearing the inscription which
Pius 11 himself composed, are still to be seen in the Church.2
The Pope’s nearest
living relations were his two sisters, Laudomia and Caterina, both of whom had
made respectable but by no means brilliant marriages. They and their children
assumed the name of Piccolomini, and to his nephews and nieces Pius looked to
sustain the honour of his family. Caterina was married to a certain Bartolomeo
Guglielmi, whom Pius made Prefect of Spoleto, and here the Pope visited his
sister on his way to Mantua in 1459. She had an only daughter, Antonia, who in
her turn married and had children. In 1462, Antonia and Caterina came to see
Pius at Todi, bringing with them Antonia’s baby-boy, a handsome, intelligent
child, who “ gave no small delight to the Pope.” “ He had not yet reached his
twentieth month,” said the proud uncle, “ but he imitated everything which he
saw, and gave many signs of future wisdom.” 3 The child was called
Silvio at the Pope’s desire. He became the ancestor of the famous Marshal
Ottavio Piccolomini, who played so prominent a part in the Thirty Years War.
Laudomia was married to Nanni Todeschini, and by him had four sons and one
daughter, Montanina. Of the Pope’s four nephews, Antonio, Giacomo, and Andrea
were destined for a secular, and Francesco for an ecclesiastical career.
Francesco was a studious, well-conducted youth, and when /Eneas was Bishop of
Siena he saw sufficient intellectual promise in his nephew to think it worth while
1 Commentarii,
lib. ii. p. 47.
2 “ Silvius
hie jaceo, conjux Vittoria mecum est
Filius hoc clausit marmore. Papa Pius.”
Cf. Commentarii, lib. ii. p. 47.
3 Ibid.,
lib. x. p. 272. The fine palace in Siena now occupied by the Banca
d’ltalia was built as the Pope’s gift to Caterina.
sending him to the
University of Perugia. Money was always scanty in the Piccolomini family, and
Francesco, like iFneas before him, economised his expenses by lodging with
relations. But, unlike zEneas, his future was ready made for him from the
moment of taking his degree. In January 1460, at the age of twenty-one, he
became Archbishop of Siena, and two months later he received a Cardinal’s hat.
He proved himself a devoted nephew, and filled with credit the various high
offices to which he was called. Yet he could not rise above his destiny, and he
remained to the last the nephew of Pius 11, a pale reflection of his brilliant
uncle. His chief claim to the remembrance of posterity is as the founder of the
Piccolomini Library in the Cathedral at Siena. The original purpose of the
building was to hold the works of Pius 11 and his treasured collection of
books. It was begun about the year 1492, and decorated on a comparatively
modest scale. Ten years later, Cardinal Piccolomini determined to make the
Library a worthy monument of his uncle, and engaged Pintoricchio to decorate it
with a series of frescoes illustrating the life of Pius 11, “ with such
personages, action, and costumes as are necessary and convenientf or
theproperportrayal thereof.” 1 The work had not advanced far when
Cardinal Piccolomini became Pope Pius 111, and died in October 1503, after a
reign of two months. While Pius in slept beside Pius 11 in S. Peter’s,
Pintoricchio laboured in the Piccolomini Library, and the completed work served
as a memorial of both uncle and nephew. The large fresco over the entrance to
the Library from the Cathedral commemorates the coronation of Pius in. Upon the
walls of the Library itself, Pintoricchio has told in ten scenes, alive with light
and joy and colour, the life-story of the humanist Pope.2
1 Cf. Corrado Ricci, Pintoricchio.
2 The subjects of these famous frescoes
are as follows :—1. " tineas starting for the Council of Basel ” ; 2.
" The Mission to Scotland ” ; 3. " Coronation as Poet by Frederick m
” ; 4. “ The Reconciliation with Eugenius iv ” ; 5. “ The Betrothal of
Frederick 111 and Leonora of Portugal ” ; 6. " ^Eneas made a Cardinal by
Calixtus m " ; 7. " The
Antonio Piccolomini
did not share the studious tastes of his brother, and in less prosperous days,
when a learned career seemed likely to offer him his best chance in life, he
was a cause of serious anxiety to his father and uncle. “We understand that
Antonio is no scholar, and is doing little good,” wrote tineas to Nanni
Todeschini in September 1453. “ We gathered as much from his letters, which are
execrably written. We trust that he will mend his ways, and at least learn to
express himself better.” 1 Luckily for this young scapegrace, his
uncle’s election to the Papacy enabled him to cast aside his books and to enter
upon a military career. He was at once made Castellan of S. Angelo, an office
which gave him high military authority in Rome. When the war broke out, he led
the Papal forces in the Neapolitan kingdom, and won an honourable reputation as
a soldier. In 1461 he was married to Maria of Aragon, the illegitimate daughter
of King Ferrante, and became Duke of Amalfi and Grand Justiciar of Naples. Thus
the idle boy of the family entered the ranks of the princes of Italy, and there
seemed no limit to the possibilities which lay before him.
Provision was also
made for the two younger brothers, Giacomo and Andrea. Giacomo was given the
little lordship of Camporsevoli near Chiusi, and on the break-up of the Malatesta
dominions he became Duke of Monte- marciano, in the March of Ancona. To Andrea
fell the Tuscan dominion of Castiglione della Pescaja with the island of
Giglio, granted to him by Ferrante of Naples. He played a considerable part in
the politics of Siena, and his daughter Vittoria married Borghese Petrucci, the
son of the famous Pandolfo. In the next generation Andrea’s granddaughter and
heiress, Silvia, married her cousin, the Duke of Amalfi, thus uniting the two
branches of the family.2
Election of Pius n ”
; 8. “ The Congress of Mantua ” ; 9. " The Canonisation of S. Catherine
of Siena ” ; 10. “ Pius 11 at Ancona.”
1 Cf. Voigt, vol. iii. p. 28; and Wolkan,
Ep. 37.
2 Cf. Litta,
Famiglie Celebri d’Italia : Piccolomini.
Meanwhile Antonio,
Duke of Amalfi, pursued his splendid career. He was undoubtedly the favourite
nephew, and he came in for a large share of the Malatesta dominions on the fall
of Sigismondo. Sinigaglia and Mondavio passed into his possession, and it was
rumoured that Pius n dreamed of a strong State in the March of Ancona under the
rule of Antonio. The Pope’s death put an end to such schemes, if they ever
existed. Paul n left Antonio in possession of his fiefs in the March, but the
election of Sixtus iv forced him to make way for the new Pope’s ambitious
nephews. Thereupon he retired to Naples, where he continued to enjoy high
favour with Ferrante. His successors were distinguished by their loyalty to the
Aragonese dynasty in Naples, and they later became the devoted servants of the
Emperor Charles v. On the death of Antonio’s last male descendant, in 1566, the
Duchy of Amalfi was given by the Spanish Crown to Marshal Ottavio, who once
more made the name of Piccolomini famous throughout Europe.1
In Siena, to-day, the
graceful Loggia del Papa stands as a permanent memorial to the love and care
which Pius 11 lavished upon his family. “ Pius 11 Pont. Max. gentilibus suis
Picolomineis ” runs the inscription : “ Pope Pius 11 to his relations the
Piccolomini.” Family pride and family affection taught him to regard his own
brilliant career in the light of a tribute to the honour of that name.
Throughout the years
of his crowded life Pius 11 never forgot Corsignano. “When you go to
Corsignano,” he wrote to his father in 1444, “ greet the old friends in my
name, and especially my nurse Bartolomea, if she is still alive. Her husband
Berte is, I imagine, no longer in the land of the living.” 2 A
letter written to the Republic of Siena from Rome, during his Cardinalate,
shows how near the interests of the little community lay to the heart of
1 Litta, op. cit.
2 iEneas Silvius to Silvio Piccolomini, 19
Nov. 1444 (Voigt, Brieje, No. 130, p. 358; and Wolkan, Ep. 162).
LOGGIA DEL PAPA
MENA
iEneas Silvius. His object was to ask that Corsignano might be excused
payment of a tax of three hundred ducats. “ We were bom and brought up in
Corsignano,” he writes, “ and we love the inhabitants as our fellow- townsmen.
We pray you, therefore, to consider them as commended to your favour on our
account. As we learn that they are poor and unable to bear this burden, it
would be most welcome to us if they obtained some remission by means of our
letters, so that they may know that they are benefited by our love.” 1
But the time was now at hand when /Eneas would be able to give his native
village a far more splendid proof of his affection. When Pius 11 set out for
the Congress of Mantua in January 1459, the scheme for the creation of Pienza
must already have been in his mind. On 21 February, Corsignano learned that the
Pope and six Cardinals were in the neighbourhood and might be expected to enter
the village at midday. Nothing could exceed the enthusiasm with which Pius was
welcomed. The inhabitants had done their utmost to make ready for the occasion,
and Laudomia and Caterina Piccolomini, with their husbands and children and
various other members of the family, were gathered to welcome him. Among the
crowd which pressed forward to receive the Papal blessing was the old priest
Piero, eager to recognise in his spiritual sovereign the little /Eneas whom he
had taught in bygone years.
Next day was the
Feast of S. Peter's Chair, and Pius 11 celebrated Mass in the Church of S.
Francesco. The commemoration of S. Peter’s installation as the chief of the
Apostles took on a new significance to these simple Tuscan peasants, when S.
Peter’s successor was present in their midst, in the person of their friend and
fellow-citizen, /Eneas Silvius Piccolomini. Pius, however, could not revisit
the place of his birth without a certain sense of
1 Cf.
Mannucci, FondaHone della Cattedrale di Pienza (Arte e Storia, Anno xxiv.
(1905); Numero unico pubblicato in occasione del v° ccnte- nario della nascita
di Enea Silvio Piccolomini).
sadness, and with
characteristic craving for self-expression he has left a record of the
conflicting emotions which beset him.1 He had looked forward with
the keenest anticipation to revisiting the old haunts and talking with the
friends of his childhood. Yet when he found himself at Corsignano his joy was
overshadowed by sorrow at the changes which time had wrought. Many of his
friends were dead, others were confined to their houses by old age or
ill-health, those from whom he had parted as boys had grown-up children of
their own, and were so altered that he hardly recognised them. There were few
with whom time had dealt more hardly than it had with Pius ii himself. Although only in his
fifty-fourth year, he was already an old man. Long years of ceaseless activity
had made his head bald before its time and had furrowed his face with wrinkles.
His gouty feet could scarcely bear the weight of his body. He had a chronic
cough, and was rarely free from pain. Yet his bright eyes revealed an energy of
spirit which could still triumph over bodily infirmity : in his power of
enjoyment and zest for living he possessed the secret of perpetual youth.
Before Pius left
Corsignano he had made the necessary arrangements for the execution of his
great project. The Florentine, Bernardo Rossellino, was engaged as architect,
and Siena contributed her share to the undertaking by allowing wood to be
brought from the famous forests of Monte Amiata, which had furnished building
materials for many houses in Rome.2 Some eighteen months later, on
his return from Mantua, Pius paid a second visit to the village, in order to
see how the work progressed. He found that the church and palace which he had
planned were already rising from their foundations, and that they gave promise
of being “ unsurpassed by any building in Italy.” 3 But the Pope
could not linger to watch their growth.
1 Commentarii,
lib. ii. p. 44.
2 Mannucci,
Fondazione della Cattedrale di Pienza (Arte e Storia, 1905).
3 Commentarii, lib. iv. p. 110.
He was detained at Corsignano
for twelve days by a severe chill which affected all his limbs and made him
unable to move without help, but directly he could leave his bed he hastened on
to Rome, in order to quell the disturbances which had arisen during his long
absence. The Pope’s affection for Tuscany was regarded with suspicion by the
Romans, and in the following summer Pius found it wiser to spend his
villegiatura in the Papal States. Thus it was not until 1462 that he was free
to gratify his own taste. The month of July in that year saw him established in
the Abbey of S. Salvatore on the slopes of Monte Amiata, from whence he could
watch the city of his dreams as it rose into being upon the opposite hill-side.
When this glad day
arrived, Corsignano was no more. A Consistory held on 12 February 1462, had
bequeathed to it a new name, and had pronounced that in honour of its patron it
should be known henceforth as Pienza.1 At the same time, the all but
completed church was raised to the rank of a Cathedral, and Pienza with her
neighbour, Montal- cino, was taken from the diocese of Arezzo to form a new
bishopric. After a few weeks of tranquillity, spent with the monks of S.
Salvatore, Pius crossed the Val d’Orcia, to see for himself what progress had
been made at Pienza. Once more he came to his home ill and suffering, and he
was obliged to postpone his inspection of the new buildings for several days.
When at last he made the tour of the Cathedral and palace, all his pains were
forgotten in his joy over the fair vision which rose before him. With paternal
pride he observed every detail of the work. The size and number of the windows
in the palace, the arrangements for carrying off water from the roof, the
decorations of the walls and ceilings in the various rooms are all chronicled
by the enthusiastic Pope. No less minute is his account of the Cathedral,
complete now in all its fittings, from the two holy-water basins at the bottom
of
1 Pius 11
to the Priors of the Republic of Siena, 12 Feb. 1462. Cf. Mannucci, Arte e
Storia, I9°5-
the nave to the
beautiful intarsiatura of the choir-stalls. An artist’s eye for beauty, the
pride and joy of a lover combine with the practical wisdom and capacity for
detail of a man of affairs to render the pages of the Commentaries which
describe Pienza the most vivid in the book. Moreover, the description of 1462
still holds good. Owing to the completeness of the original scheme and to a
blessed freedom from the ravages of the spoiler, the Commentaries are the best
guide-book to Pienza as it is to-day.1
Few who visit the
tiny city, a fair flower of the Renaissance blooming in a land that is
eternally mediaeval, will deny that Pius had just cause to be proud of his
creation. On the west side of the red-brick Piazza lies the massive pile of the
Palazzo Piccolomini. Severe and yet not forbidding, decorative and yet not
ornate, it is a perfect example of the domestic architecture of the early
Renaissance, unsurpassed by the finest palaces in Siena or Florence. It is a
square building, standing three storeys high, and fashioned of solid stone.
Round its base runs a broad stone ledge, where the inhabitants lounge when they
gather on the Piazza to laugh and gossip after Mass on feast-days, or in the
evening when the day’s work is done. After the usual Italian model, the palace
is built round a central court: a small door gives access to it from the
Piazza, while the principal entrance lies on the north side. On the right of
the main entrance a staircase " of some forty easy steps ” leads to the
first floor and to the principal apartments. “ Here,” says Pius, “ are winter
and summer rooms, andthose suited to the mean seasons.” The bedrooms are “ fit
for kings,” and “ not a single room lacks a fireplace or anything which could
add to its comfort and convenience.” The fine panelled ceilings, the floors of
polished tiles, and the tasteful use of paint and gilding contribute to the
general excellence of the effect. A distinctive feature of the palace are the
spacious windows, “ each large enough to allow three people to look out at
once.” “ Truly,”
1
Commentarii, lib. ix. pp. 231-6.
exclaims the Pope,
" if, as all will agree, light is the chief grace of a house, then no
dwelling is to be preferred to this, which is open to four prospects of the
heavens, and which admits abundant light both from windows on the outer side of
the palace and from those giving on the courtyard.” Of the many splendid
apartments the most attractive is the great hall overlooking the Val d’Orcia,
which, with a small room leading out of it at either end, occupies the entire
first floor on the south side of the square. The richly carved chimneypiece of
white stone which Pius mentions is still in its place, and two doors lead
straight from the hall to the graceful loggia, “ a most pleasant abode in the
winter season.” Pius occupied the adjoining room on the east, where his
frescoed portrait still adorns the wall. Thus he could pass straight from his
bedchamber, through the great hall, to the loggia, where he loved to sit and
feast his eye upon the familiar landscape, while the September sun bathed his
limbs as it pierced the mists of an autumn morning. On the ground floor a corresponding
loggia gives access to the garden. This is a square enclosure levelled with
some ingenuity on the slope of the hill-side, a sunny bower, fragrant with
basil and rosemary, hanging over the wild Val d’Orcia. For the Pope’s gouty
limbs, steps and slopes were a matter of some inconvenience. Thus he
appreciated to the full the admirable engineering which enabled him to pass
from the great north entrance, through the courtyard and loggia, to the terrace
at the far end of the garden, “ with smooth step, not once having to raise his
feet.”
At right angles to
the Palazzo Piccolomini, on the southern side of the Piazza, rises Pius ii’s other great foundation, the
Cathedral of the Blessed Virgin. “ Against custom, and at the dictates of
necessity,” as Pius puts it, what should be the east end of the Cathedral faces
south over the Val d’Orcia, while the main entrance lies north and not west,
fronting the Piazza. The facade of grey stone, severely classical in rn'-m,
produces an impression
of coldness. No
reliefs or statues break the lines of the columns and arches, and the circular
design, framing the Piccolomini arms surmounted by the crossed keys and Papal
tiara, which Pius describes as a “ Cyclop’s eye,” is a poor compensation for
other ornament. Inside the Cathedral this impression of coldness and severity
is entirely dissipated, and the whole scheme of decoration bears witness to the
taste and forethought of its founder. By the Pope’s express desire the nave and
the aisles on either side of it are of equal height. He had seen churches in
Austria built on this model and had noticed the greater facilities for light
which it afforded. So successful was his experiment that when he first visited
the Cathedral and saw the sun streaming in through the great windows, he seemed
to be entering “ a house of glass and not a house of stone.” Pius also insisted
that the walls of the Cathedral should be left plain, without frescoes or other
decoration which would mar the pristine whiteness of the stone. Only in the
chapels, forming the apse behind the high altar, were pictures allowed,
executed at the Pope’s order by “ the best masters which Siena could produce.”
By a Bull of 16 September 1462, Pius forbade, on pain ef excommunication only
revocable by Papal authority, any additions to his original scheme.1
Thus the Cathedral remains to-day as he planned it. The severe simplicity of
the walls forms an impressive setting to the elegant grace of the eight
clustered columns which support the nave. The roof above is painted a deep
blue, spangled with golden stars, in imitation of the open heavens so dear to
the heart of the Pope. There, too, in the chapels for which they were
originally painted, hang the altar-pieces by the Sienese masters of the
Quattrocento—Vecchietta, Sano di Pietro, and Matteo di Giovanni. Set thus
against their true background, the pictures preserve that distinction and vitality
which all but the very highest works of art are prone to lose when crowded
together on the walls 1 Commentarii, lib. ix. p. 235.
CATHEDRAL (INTERIOR)
PIENZA
of an Academy.
Vecchietta’s Assumption ranks among the artist’s masterpieces. Surrounded by a
galaxy of dancing angels, the majestic figure of the Madonna rises heavenwards,
while Pope Pius I, S. Catherine of Siena, and two other saints bear witness to
her ascent. All three pictures breathe the spirit of devotion and patriotism in
which they were painted. The most interesting historically is that of Matteo
di Giovanni, in which the Madonna sits enthroned among the four Fathers of the
Church. Here, in the kneeling figure of Gregory the Great, we recognise the
strongly marked features and keen, smiling eyes of Pius n.
Underneath the main
building is a lower church, which serves as a Baptistery, and which contains a
handsome font of Rossellino’s design. The contrast between this graceful
structure and the massive basin, looking almost like a drinking trough, in the
Church of SS. Vito e Modesto, where ZEneas was baptized, is the contrast
between the Renaissance and the mediaeval world. To the west of the Cathedral
stands a house, now used as a museum, which the Pope destined for the Dean and
Chapter. A small door into the Cathedral was made for their use, through which
“ they might pass without hindrance to the day and night offices.” The same
practical forethought shows itself in the two splendid wells, both designed by
Rossellino, and complete down to the very chains and buckets when Pius made his
tour of inspection. One, standing in the garden of the Palazzo, was intended to
supply the needs of the household, while the other was placed in the Piazza for
the use of the citizens. Both wells are in working to-day, and the richly
carved head and massive bucket of the Piazza ivell may be seen in a setting of
flapping straw hats, gay Bcarves, and chattering voices, as the women of Pienza
:ome daily to draw water and to bless the name of Pius ii, ivho provided so generously for the needs of his people.
Such were the new
buildings of Pienza as Pius saw them in the summer of 1462. As might be
expected, the archi-
t8
tect had greatly
exceeded his original estimate. Endless difficulties had been experienced in
laying the foundations of the Cathedral in the crumbling volcanic soil, and
various other accidents had occurred. Many persons were ready to blame the
architect, and to accuse him of gross carelessness and extravagance, if not of
actual fraud. Pius, however, turned a deaf ear to their complaints. Sending
for the architect, he praised him for the miscalculation which had produced
such happy results. “You have done well, Bernardo, in deceiving us as to the
expense of the work. If you had told us the truth, you would never have persuaded
us to spend so much money; and neither this noble palace nor this church, the
finest in all Italy, would now be standing.”
Pius was enchanted
with the result of Bernardo’s labours, yet he could not blind himself to the
fact that he had spent far more on Pienza than he could justify. At the same
time, his scheme was not yet fully carried out. He therefore determined to
shift at least a part of the future expense on to other shoulders. Having
bought and pulled down some small houses on the north side of the Piazza, he
presented the site to the Commune in order that the citizens might build
themselves a suitable Palazzo Pubblico. How well they responded to the task may
be seen to-day in the graceful little building, with its elegant loggia and red
brick tower, which stands opposite to the Cathedral. Pius, moreover, resolved
to transform Pienza into the summer capital of the Papacy; and the Cardinals
were asked, or rather politely commanded, to build palaces in the city. The
Pope’s best hope lay in Cardinal Borgia, whose riches were as great as his
complaisance, and who had sufficient worldly wisdom to accept the inevitable in
a graceful spirit. Borgia professed himself much honoured by the Pope’s gift of
the old communal buildings, and ere long he had transformed them into an elegant
Renaissance palace, furnished with the sumptuous luxury for which he was famed.
This palace is now the residence of the
Bishop, and it lies
opposite to the Palazzo Piccolomini, with the Cathedral and the Palazzo
Pubblico on its left and right. With its erection Pius ii’s ideal was realised. The Piazza called by his name was
enclosed by four noble buildings, and there was not a single blot upon the harmonious
perfection of the group.
Other Cardinals
responded with less alacrity to the Pope’s appeal. Young Francesco Gonzaga, the
son of the Marquis of Mantua, who had obtained his Cardinal’s hat only a few
months before, was most reluctant to embark upon so great an outlay. Yet he
desired above all things to obtain the Bishopric of Mantua when next it fell
vacant, and Pius ii’s hint that,
unless he were more obliging, the Bishopric might be given to another, at once
induced him to obey. In a letter dated 28 August 1462 he begs his father to
help him in meeting this expense, assuring him that it is absolutely necessary
to do what the Pope requires, and that it must be done, moreover, without
delay.1 In spite of the pressure put upon him, Francesco does not
appear to have done more than buy a piece of ground for future use. The
building of his palace had not yet begun when the Pope’s death came to spare
the needy Mantuan from further expense.
In Jacopo Ammanati,
Cardinal of Pavia, the Pope found a kindred spirit who soon rivalled Pius
himself in his affection for Pienza. Three years after the Pope’s death he wrote
an enthusiastic letter to Goro Lolli, inviting him to visit the city which had
become his home. ‘ ‘ What wonder, ’ ’ he exclaims, “ if my retreat at Pienza
delights me ! ” The good air, the fine views, the pleasant shady walks, and the
warm welcome which he receives from the Cathedral clergy, all combine to
attract him thither. Hunting and fishing abound, “ better wine is not to be had
in all Tuscany,” his house is well built and commodious. Above all, “ the
remembrance of our Pius ” enhances the charm of these
1 Francesco
Bandini Piccolomini, Le Case Borgia e Gonzaga in Pienza (Arte e Storia,
1905).
delights. “ Here he
was bom, here he received baptism, here he left traces of his holy footprints.
Wherever the eye turns there are memorials of his name.” Out of gratitude
towards his friend and benefactor, Ammanati has resolved to fulfil his dying
wish, and, “forsaking all other places, to delight in Pienza alone.” 1
Pius 11 came to
Pienza early in August 1462, and on the 29th of that month the Cathedral was
consecrated with due ceremony. The weeks slipped by, summer merging into
autumn, and still the Pope lingered on. S. Matthew’s Day (21 September) found
him still in the Palazzo Piccolomini, throwing himself with whole-hearted zest
into Pienza’s annual fair. The festivities began with High Mass in the
Cathedral, celebrated in the Pope’s presence before a large and devout
congregation. Then the whole multitude flocked outside the town, to feast at
Pius n’s expense in the large tents which he had provided for the occasion. No
less than thirty oxen were slaughtered for the banquet, and every inhabitant
ate and drank his full. The feasting ended, " every one gave themselves to
buying and selling until evening,” when a variety of races terminated the
day’s programme. There were horse races, donkey races, and foot races for both
men and boys. “ These the Pope watched, not without pleasure, from a high
window of the palace, whither he had retired with his Cardinals to transact
public business.” 2 The affairs of the Church caused Pius 11 grave
anxiety, and at times the weight of his cares seemed too heavy to be borne. Yet
he possessed the power of throwing those cares aside, and such mild excitements
as the contests for the palio at Pienza could be to him the source of purest
pleasure. He
1 Jacobi Card. Pap. Epistolae, No. 278,
p. 660. Cf. Arte e Storia, 1905.
2 Cugnoni, p. 222 : “ Haec Pontifex ex
altissima fenestra cum Cardinali- bus, non sine jucunditate spectavit, quamvis
interca de publicis negotiis auscultaret.” The over - decorous editor of the Commentaries
has emended the original MS. thus : “ Haec Pontifex non spectavit: sed cum
Cardinalibus interea de publicis negotiis consultabat ” (Commentarii, lib. ix.
p. 236).
joined in the general
laugh which arose when a riderless donkey came first to the winning post, and
the judges awarded it the palio. His heart swelled with pride when a plucky
Pienza lad bore off a fat goose, the prize for the boys’ race, and was
forthwith carried round the town upon the shoulders of his exultant friends.
The longest of summer
holidays must end one day, and when October came, the Pope bade farewell to
Pienza and started on his leisurely journey back to Rome. He hoped that this
would be the first of many pleasant ville- giature in his old home, but in all
probability he never saw Pienza again. In the spring of 1464 he was once more
in Tuscany, and he spent Easter at Siena. By that time, however, he had made
the desperate resolve to embark in person on a Crusade against the Turk. The
chief object of his sojourn in Tuscany was to gain such measure of health at
the baths of Petrioli as would enable his rapidly weakening frame to endure the
fatigues and hardships which lay before him. It is possible that he took the
opportunity to return to Pienza for a few days, but the absence of any record
of his visit enables us to ring the curtain down on that October morning, when
the shadows which darkened his last months of life had not yet closed over him,
and when he could look back on the fair group of buildings on the hill-side,
where the old white house of his childhood had stood, with pleasant memories of
a successful holiday, and no less pleasant expectations of good days still to
come.
From that day forward
the veil of oblivion was drawn over Pienza. For a few brief weeks she had been
the centre of Christendom, the very Renaissance Rome that Pius would fain have
made her. Then she relapsed, deserted and forgotten, into the slumber of
decay. During four long centuries her slumber was unbroken, and those who
visited her some twenty or thirty years ago spoke of her as a mere memory of
vanished glories. To John Addington Symonds her condition seemed “ something
worse than ruin.” The
Piccolomini palace, rarely visited by its owners, had become “ a granary for
country produce in a starveling land,” and the predominant impression which the
place produced was one of almost sordid failure.1 But for those who
seek out Pienza to-day a better fate is in store. Within the last few years a
happy turn of fortune has brought the Piccolomini back to Pienza. The Palazzo
has been tastefully restored, and is now once more the centre of life in the
little community. As in the days of Pius 11, the citizens have been encouraged
by the example of the Signori to do their part in the work of restoration. The
Palazzo Pubblico has been redecorated and freed from ugly modern additions, and
the various treasures belonging to the Cathedral have been collected in a small
museum. Pienza, in short, has awakened from her long sleep, determined to
prove worthy of her heritage. The culmination of her revival came in 1905, when
the quincentenary of Pius n’s birth was celebrated with every honour that the
citizens could devise. The prime mover in the festivities which marked the
occasion was Conte Silvio Piccolomini, the present representative of the race
with which the fortunes of Pienza are associated.
Thus Pienza to-day is
much more than a memory. She has had her part in the general resurrection of
Italy, and, in rising to a vigorous modern life, she has learned to be proud of
her past greatness. More than ever, in her newfound consciousness, is she the
city of Pius 11. His spirit hovers in the starry vaulting of the Cathedral, it
mingles with the stir and laughter of the Piazza, and perhaps most of all it
lingers in the sunny colonnades of the loggia overlooking the Val d’Orcia. The
Piccolomini arms (argent, cross azure, charged with five crescents or),
surmounted by the crossed keys and Papal tiara, meet the eye at every turn. The
objects treasured in the little museum are nearly all Pius ii’s personal
possessions, or gifts which he made to the Cathedral. Here are the tapestries
of Flemish
1 Symonds,
Italian Byways.
COPE PRESENTED TO
PIUS II BY THOMAS PAL^OLOGUS
PIENZA MUSEUM
workmanship which he
gave to adorn the Piazza on feast- days. Here are his mitre, ring, and pastoral
staff. Here, above all, is the famous cope which has brought visitors to Pienza
who know little or nothing of its founder. This marvel of embroidery is worked
with twenty-five scenes from the life of the Blessed Virgin and that of S.
Catherine of Alexandria, interwoven with every imaginable device of birds and
flowers and foliage. Alive with dramatic feeling and glowing with colour, the
minute perfection of the workmanship has caused it to be described as “ a web
woven by an embroidery needle.” 1 It was fashioned, in all
probability, by English hands in the thirteenth century, and it passed, we know
not by what means, into the possession of Thomas Palaeologus, Despot of Morea.
In his desperate flight from the East, Thomas brought the cope with him to
Rome, and presented it to Pius n, from whom alone in Western Europe he could
hope for succour against the Turk. Pius ranked it among his most priceless
possessions. Therefore it found its last resting-place at Pienza, the city upon
which he lavished all the best that he had to offer, the shrine upon which he
laid his heart.
1
Schippisi, Terre Toscane, p. 41.
THE MAN OF LETTERS
7| NEAS SILVIUS
played many parts in the course / I—4 of his career, and a supple disposition
enabled Jj him to play each in turn with some degree of credit. But there was
one role which made no demands upon his adaptability. He was a diplomatist, a
statesman, an ecclesiastic by necessity; he was a man of letters by nature. In
the preface to his first historical work, the Commentaries on the Council of
Basel, he gives a picturesque account of his efforts to wean himself from
literary pursuits.1 His friends urged him to “ reject the codices of
orators and historians,” and to flee all manner of letters. " Are you not
ashamed, at your age, to possess neither lands nor money ? ” they said. “ Do
you not know that it behoves a man to be strong at twenty, wise at thirty, and
rich at forty, and that he who passes these limits strives in vain ? ” /Eneas
recognised the wisdom of their advice, but he was quite unable to follow it.
Over and over again he determined to “ live no more from day to day as the
birds and beasts,” but to employ himself in making provision for his old age.
Yet, as moths flutter round a candle until they are burnt in the flame, so he
returned to his hurt and to his undoing, until he foresaw that naught but death
would release him from the toils of literature.
His instinct did not
play him false. Poems and essays, letters and orations poured forth from his
pen without
1 Commentariorum „ . . de Gestis
Basiliensis Concilii (Opera), p. i.
intermission
throughout the course of his life. In the five years which followed the writing
of the preface quoted above, /Eneas’s literary productions included a novel, a
comedy, many poems, and treatises on such different subjects as the Authority
of General Councils, the Nature and Care of Horses, Fortune, Education, and the
Miseries of Courtiers. As behoves a true humanist, he was interested in everything,
and at no period were his writings confined to any one class of subject.
Nevertheless, his literary development has three distinct phases. Like most
clever young men, he began by writing poetry. Later on the exigencies of his
profession made him an essayist and pamphleteer. In the end he found his true
vocation as an historian.
We learn from Goro
Lolli that /Eneas was a prolific writer of verse in his student days. Some of
his poems were in Latin, others were in Italian, and framed on the model of
Petrarch. These youthful efforts were treasured by the faithful Goro, who
informed Ammanati, after Pius it’s death,
that he had “ almost innumerable examples ” in his possession.1 But
they were not included in the printed editions of Pius ii’s works, and are for the most part lost to posterity. Before
he left Siena /Eneas wrote a poem entitled “ Nymphilexis ” in praise of one
Battista, the mistress of Socino Benzi of Ferrara. It consisted, said the proud
author, of “ more than two thousand lines,” but it has not survived to allow us
to judge of its merits.2 During his early days at the Imperial Court
the newly crowned poet addressed many verses to Frederick ill. Among them were
poems " in praise of Csesar,” and a hymn on the Passion in Sapphic metre.3
Chancellor Schlick was also honoured in his protege’s verse, and /Eneas’s most
ambitious effort at this period was a Latin comedy, in the style of
1 Jacobi Card. Pap., Ep. 47, p.
494.
2 /Eneas Silvius to Socino Benzi, 1431
(Wolkan, Ep. 3 ; Opera, Ep- 35)-
3 Cugnoni, pp. 342-70, gives these and
other of /Eneas’s poems.
Terence, entitled
Christs.1 The German Court, however, was not fruitful soil
for poetry, and as iEneas became engrossed in his profession he ceased to
cultivate the poetic muse. From henceforth he only wrote occasional verse,
epigrams on current events, love poems, or epitaphs in honour of departed
friends. His quick sympathies combined with refined taste and facility of
expression to render him an adept in the art of epitaph-making. The fine
inscription which can still be seen on the tomb of Nicholas v, in the crypts of
the Vatican, is a conspicuous example of his talent.
During his
Pontificate Pius n composed hymns to the Blessed Virgin and to S. Catherine of
Siena, and he also drew up the Office appointed to be said on S. Catherine’s
Day (5 May). The solemn Litany which closed the Congress of Mantua was the
Pope’s composition, and various other opportunities presented themselves for
the exercise of his poetic gifts. Nevertheless, meagre as are the survivals of
/Eneas’s art, they are sufficient to show that he was in no sense a poet. He
writes as a clever man of letters, as a scholar and a stylist, but his poems
lack spontaneity. They are at best skilfully fashioned conceits, untouched by
the divine fire. The vein of true poetry which he undoubtedly possessed
appears not in his verse, but in the unique and altogether charming
descriptions of natural scenery which are interspersed among his prose
writings. “ It was the month of May, and everything was growing; the fields
rejoiced, the woods were alive with the song of birds.” So wrote Pius n when he
was borne over the vast stretches of the Campagna, “ golden with flowering
broom,” and gay in its mantle of spring flowers, “ now purple, now white, and
now a thousand other hues.” 2 During his sojourn at Viterbo “ the
Pope went out almost every day
1 Cf. yEneas Silvius to Michael
Pfullendorf, i Oct. 1444 (Wolkan, Ep. 158, and Opera, Ep. 97). The hitherto
unpublished MS. of Chrisis is being prepared for publication by Dr. Wolkan.
2 Commentarii, lib. viii. p. 206.
in the early morning
before it was hot, to breathe the fragrant air, and to view the growing crops.
The blue flax imitated the colour of heaven, and gave the greatest delight to
those who saw it. Nowhere but at Viterbo are there so many and such vast fields
of flax. The Pope wandered everywhere, among meadows and sown land, choosing
different paths every day.” 1 Again, it is the poet who speaks in
Pius ii’s description of Nemi and
her deep blue waters, so clear “ that they reflect the image of the gazer,” and
which earned from the ancients the title of the Mirror of Diana. The lake, he
says, lies hidden in a deep valley, and the surrounding slopes are a veritable
forest of fruit trees. " Some slopes are covered with chestnuts and others
with hazels. There are diverse kinds of apple, and below them the humble
medlar, and trees which bear pears, plums, and quinces.” A road runs all round
the lake, rambling through cool glades where the sun’s rays cannot penetrate.
" There is no more pleasant place in summer than these shady paths. It is
the meet haunt of poets ; nowhere would the poetic flame be kindled if it
slumbered here. It is the home of the Muses, the hiding- place of nymphs. True
is the legend which tells us that it is Diana’s bower.” 2 The man
who could write thus had the poet’s vision if he had not the poet’s lyre. These
descriptions of Italian scenery are prose idylls, springing from the heart of a
lover.
Among his
contemporaries /Eneas was probably most celebrated as a pamphleteer. In the
course of his career he wrote a series of tracts upon the great ecclesiastical
question of the day, the position and authority of General Councils. The cycle
begins with his unqualified championship of the Conciliar theory in the
Dialogues composed at Basel (1440),3 and it does not terminate until
1463, when the Bull In minoribus agentes proclaimed his final repudiation of
the “ Basel heresy.” Between these two
1
Commentarii, lib. viii. p. 207. 2
Ibid., lib. xi. p. 307.
3 Cf. above, p. 68.
extremes lie letters,
essays, dialogues, and Bulls, which treat of the same subject from many and
diverse points of view. ZEneas’s letter to his friend Hartung von Keppel1
and his dialogue entitled Pentalogus 2 both belong to the
year 1443. Here the author is still firm on the general principle of the
Conciliar movement, but he holds no brief for the Council of Basel. He is the
servant of the Emperor, and the apologist of German neutrality, who discusses
the quarrel between Pope and Council from the point of view of an onlooker. The
special object of the Pentalogus was to advocate the summons of a fresh
Council, or Congress of princes, for the purpose of judging between the
combatants.
— Three years later,
in 1446, ZEneas wrote the tract De Ortu et authoritate Romani Imperii, which is
in some respects the most important of the series.3 By this time our
hero had declared himself decisively on the side of the Papacy. He had made his
own peace with Eugenius iv, and was about to enter upon those delicate negotiations
which brought Germany to the feet of the Pope. Thus his main object was to
impart some degree of self-confidence to the timorous Emperor, lest he should
spoil the plans of the Papal party by an abject submission to the princes.4
In form, the De Ortu is no mere pamphlet, but a treatise on political science.
Beginning with a philosophical account of the origin of the State, he shows
that men were led by reason first to ordered society, and then to kingship, as
the sole means of restraining their selfish passions. “ Thus the kingly power
of Rome which we call the Holy Roman Empire derives its origin from that same
human reason which is the source of all good living, and which all must obey.”
His conception of the State is no other than the mediaeval theory of the Holy
Roman
1 Cf.
above, p. 84. 2 Cf.
above, p. 75.
3 Printed in Goldast, Monorchia, T. ii. p.
1558. Cf. p. no, above.
* Cf. Voigt,
i. p. 352. Meusel, Enea Silvio als Publicist, finds the origin of the tract in
motives purely personal to the author; but his personal and political interests
were identical at this period.
Empire, in which Pope
and Emperor rule as twin powers, supreme in their respective spheres. The
treatise is based on the works of mediaeval publicists—S. Thomas Aquinas,
Engelbert, and Jordanus of Osnabriich—while it borrows largely from Nicholas of
Cusa. Cicero is its chief authority among the ancients, and there are traces of
the influence of Sallust, Seneca, and Boethius. Its distinguishing feature is
an unhesitating assertion of Imperial absolutism. For the first time in German
history the Holy Roman Emperor is invested with the absolute authority of the
Caesars. He is " lord of laws,” and it is “ of grace ” alone if he allows
himself to be bound by them. All limitations on his authority are invalid;
there is no appeal from his sentence; all owe him obedience. It is a strange
irony of fate that the principle of absolutism, from which the princes derived
such advantage in the century that followed, should have been first expounded in
Germany in a tract designed to encourage the Emperor in resisting their
pretensions.
All that was said in
De Ortu of the authority of the Emperor applied with equal force to that of the
Pope. He is the absolute monarch -par excellence, and the author explains the
Emperor’s absolutism by saying that he is as supreme in the temporal sphere as
the Pope is in the spiritual. There is no room for any conception of a Council
as a rival, far less as a superior authority to the Papacy. It was a complete
volte face on the part of the author of the Dialogues, and when /Eneas, the
newly appointed Bishop of Trieste, went to Cologne in 1447, on the Emperor’s
business, he was subjected to some plain criticism on his apostasy. In the
course of a banquet given by the University, he was reminded by the Rector and
Professors of his lucid exposition of the Conciliar theory seven years before.1
His persuasive words had moved them to acknowledge the Council of Basel as a
1 The
Dialogues were written to remove the doubts of the University of Cologne with
regard to the Council of Basel.
true and undoubted
Council of the Church. Could it have been the prospect of a Bishopric which had
caused so remarkable a change of front ? /Eneas’s reply to the taunts of the
University is the first written retraction of his earlier opinions, and it
takes its place among his many exercises in the art of explaining himself.1
Here, as elsewhere, his past errors are ascribed to youth, inexperience, and
evil example. He can only thank God that, like Saul and Augustine before him,
he has seen his mistake and has been led to repentance.
But the past could
not be blotted out thus easily, and his advocacy of the claims of a General
Council were cast in his teeth on many subsequent occasions. The Germania,2
perhaps the most attractive of his polemical essays, was written to show the
prosperity which Germany enjoyed under Papal rule and the confusion into which
she had been plunged by the champions of the Conciliar movement. The Bull
Execrabilis,3 which set its seal upon the proceedings at
Mantua, may claim a place in the same cycle. Finally, an appeal to a future
Council from the University of Cologne, citing the authority of iEneas Silvius,
called forth the Bull In minoribus agentes. Thus the University which had been
the cause of /Eneas’s first pamphlet also moved him to write his last. Some
men, wrote the Pope, would rather die than confess their errors, but he will
follow the example of S. Augustine, and make full confession of his past. Once
more he tells the old familiar story of his coming to Basel, as a young bird
let loose from the University of Siena, of the influences to which he was
subjected, and of the great names which led him astray. He speaks again of the
doubts which began to assail him; of his transference to the Imperial Court; of
the scales which fell from his eyes when, for the first time, he heard both
sides of the question ; and of his conversion to an unqualified belief in the
supremacy of
1 Printed in Fea, pp. 1-17. 3 Cf. p. 140, above,
3 Cf n jnR above.
the successors of S.
Peter over the Catholic Church. “ If you find anything contrary to this
doctrine either in our Dialogues or in our Letters, or in our other works (for
we wrote much in our youth), cast it forth in contempt. Follow what we now say
: believe the old man rather than the Pope; reject /Eneas, accept Pius;'the
Gentile name was given us by our parents at our birth, the Christian name we
took on our Pontificate.” 1
So the cycle was
completed, and in it /Eneas has left ample proof of his talents as a writer of
political tracts. Eloquence, as he knew full well, was the most powerful weapon
in his armoury. He had made himself a past master in the tricks of the trade,
and the rules laid down in his treatise on the Art of Rhetoric 2 were
consistently applied to his own writings. He usually began by an appreciation
of the position of his opponents, or by extolling their personal merits. In
answering objections, he chose out those which were easiest to refute, and made
them the basis of his arguments. The points which presented greater difficulty
were treated lightly, as matters of minor importance. All this he did
deliberately and effectively, and the arts which he acquired by practice
combined with his natural gift of persuasion to make him almost an ideal
pamphleteer. Yet the value of a tract, as such, cannot be more than ephemeral,
and it is not altogether easy to assign to /Eneas’s productions their permanent
place in literature. Perhaps the most obvious conclusion to be drawn from them
is that the author is only mildly interested in questions of abstract thought.
He reveals himself in his essays as a man of letters, a gifted amateur in
politics, and a dilettante in matters ecclesiastical, not as a political
theorist or a theologian. His conception of philosophy is narrow. It is a guide
to right conduct, and a subject treated of by masters of
1 Complete in Fea, pp. 148-64; extracts in
Raynaldus, 1463, No. 114.
2 Artis
Rhetoricae Praecepta (Opera, pp. 992-1034. Written in 1456).
style. “ Respect
towards women, love of home and children, reverence for old age, pity for the
distressed, justice towards all; self-control in anger, restraint in
indulgence, modesty in success, courage in misfortune— these are some of the
virtues to which philosophy will lead you.” 1 So wrote /Eneas in his
treatise on Education. His advice to young Ladislas for the study of the
subject is to commit a few sentences from the best authors to memory daily.2
The value of /Eneas’s
treatises lies less in his handling of the main subject than in the means which
he uses for its presentment. What lives in the Germania is not the vindication
of Papal policy, but the unrivalled description of Germany in the fifteenth
century, in which the wealth of the author’s knowledge and observation is laid
under contribution to give an attractive and informing picture of every town
that he mentions. We read the Dialogues to-day not for the arguments in support
of the Conciliar movement, but for the sketch of daily life at Basel which they
contain. The reasoning with which Caccia met and overcame Cusa’s objections is
forgotten, but the cheerful conversation of /Eneas and his friend Martin still
lives in the memory. Cusa and Caccia seat themselves on a grassy bank by the
river-side in order to continue their discussion. As the sun declines they
pause to say Vespers, and the other pair congratulate themselves on being able
to spend their time in cultured conversation instead of wasting the precious
hours in the recitation of Offices. The four companions reach the gates of
Basel, and the needy /Eneas joyfully accepts an invitation to supper. These are
some of the delicate, sharply cut vignettes which adorn the pages of the
Dialogues, and these are the features which give them a permanent place in
literature.
Through every phase
in his varied existence, /Eneas
1 De Liberorum Educations (Opera, p. 991).
Cf. above, p. no.
2 Op. cit., p. 975.
had two main
interests—his fellow-creatures and the world in which they lived. True child of
the Renaissance, he played his part in “ the rediscovery of the world and the
rediscovery of man.” In his historical works his heart was in his subject, and
here his literary greatness revealed itself. The universal springtime of the
fifteenth century saw a new birth in the study of history. In the Middle Ages,
when the noblest minds sought escape from the world, the origin and conditions
of European nations evoked little interest. When, however, with the dawn of the
Renaissance, the world became something to be enjoyed and understood to the
uttermost, the scholar who gloried in the name of humanist seized every
opportunity of adding to his historical knowledge. The historians of antiquity
held the first place in his esteem, but his very admiration for them inspired
him to exercise his talents upon the record of contemporary events, in the hope
of performing for his own age the services which the classical writers had
rendered to the past. Among the host of Renaissance historians, none was more
thoroughly imbued with the spirit of his age than the humanist Pope. He, almost
alone among his contemporaries, rose superior to the classical prejudices of
the day, and thought it worth while to wade through uncouth masses of mediaeval
material, in order to learn something of the nations of Europe in their
infancy. No period of the world’s history seemed to him unworthy of a
humanist’s attention; therefore he applied himself to the study of the despised
Middle Ages, and in so doing became the pioneer of a new development in historical
writing. As an historian no less than as a statesman, he is a mirror of the
Renaissance. His historical ideals are those of every humanist; his distinction
lies in the personal gifts which enabled him to put those ideals into practice.
Untiring energy, wide sympathies, extraordinary powers of observation, and an
instinct for self-expression which made writing a necessity to him, these are
some of the qualities which distinguish iEneas Silvius as a man of
letters, and which
give him a right to be enrolled in the company of modem historians.
From the outset of
his career /Eneas looked upon his adventures and experiences as so much
material for history. When lack of books put him at a disadvantage in the
sphere of scholarship, he found scope for his literary instincts in describing
the scenes amongst which he was living. The story of his various works upon the
Council of Basel, and of how they came to be written, throws much light upon
his historical methods. He had not been long at Basel before he conceived the
idea of writing a History of the Council, and he at once produced an
interesting account of the city and its surroundings, as an introduction to his
work.1 His wandering life as a secretary prevented him from carrying
out his original intention, and his first History was not written until 1440.
Yet, throughout the intervening years, he was collecting material and improving
his style by means of his letters. Written when the events which they record
were fresh in the author’s mind, they form, as it were, the documents on which
he based his more mature work. /Eneas’s reports to Siena on the proceedings of
the Council2 form an important part of the collection, as does his
famous letter to Piero da Noceto, describing the breach between the moderates
and the extremists in May 1437.3 The Commentaries on the Council of
Basel, written in 1440, has the form of an historical work, but in substance it
belongs to the preliminary collection of documents.4 Beginning with
an account of the negotiations leading to Eugenius iv’s deposition and the
election of the anti-Pope, it concludes with a letter to John of Segovia
describing the ceremonies of Felix v’s coronation. Thus the events of which it
treats are practically confined to the year 1439, and the author’s point of
view is frankly that of Felix v’s secretary and
1 Cf.
above, pp. 33-5. 2 Cf. above, p. 53. 3
Cf. above, p. 59.
4 Commentariorum 4e Gestis Basiliensis
Concilii (Opera, pp. 1-63).
Cf. above,
p. 6g.
champion. He is full
of admiration for the energetic leader of the anti-Papal party, Louis, Cardinal
of Arles, and he speaks confidently of the happy era which has dawned for the
Church under the auspices of her new shepherd, Felix v. Eugenius iv, on the
other hand, is alluded to as plain Gabriel Condulmier, “ a reed shaken by the
wind,” and an object of dislike and contempt. Yet iEneas’s historical instincts
were too strong for him to write a mere political tract. He could not refrain
from describing the quarrels and idiosyncrasies of the stalwarts at Basel in a
way that was hardly calculated to enhance the Council’s prestige in the eyes of
Europe. With an eye for picturesque details and striking situations, he paints
a truer picture than he intended, and reveals aspects of the Council altogether
beyond the ken of its conscientious chronicler John of Segovia.
Some ten years later,
between 1448 and 1451, /Eneas gave his final verdict upon the Conciliar
movement in De Rebus Basiliae Gestis Commentarius.1 Here the
author’s object is to give a brief survey of the history of the Council of
Basel, in order that posterity may know “ how in our days the schism was bom
and nourished, grew and expired.” Beginning with the publication of the
Constance decrees providing for the recurrence of General Councils, he traces
the course of events at Basel from the opening of the Council until its
dissolution in 1449. De Rebus Basiliae Gestis thus forms a brilliant historical
essay in which the graphic descriptions, ironic comments, and shrewd summaries
of character are a heritage from the author’s earlier writings, while the
well-preserved proportions, sane judgments, and clear, terse style bear witness
to his ripened powers. iEneas’s opinions had undergone considerable
modification since 1440, and he now wrote of the Conciliar movement as
revolutionary and inimical to the Church. Felix v, whose coronation he had
hailed with pseans of thanksgiving, is dismissed as “ more useful to the Church
by his death than
1 Printed in Fea, Pius II a calumniis
vindicatus, pp. 31-115.
by his life.” His
History is undeniably biased, yet it never forfeits the name of history by
descending to mere perversion of fact. The sum total of /Eneas's writings on
the Council render him the principal authority on the subject to-day. Few who
have not turned his sparkling pages realise how largely the material, and
indeed the very phrases of later historians are due to the active pen of this
condottiere of letters.
The most productive
years of .Eneas’s life, from a literary point of view, were those in which he
was living in Rome as a Cardinal. As compared with his multifarious activities
at the Imperial Court and with the cares of his Pontificate, it was a time of
leisure, while the libraries of Rome gave him access to books which he had
coveted from his student- days. The History of Frederick III1 and
the History of Bohemia 2 bear witness to the use which he made of
two years’ respite from more arduous labours. Here again, the works which he
brought to completion in Rome embody miscellaneous writings covering the whole
period of his sojourn in Germany. The description of Vienna with which his
Frederick III opens was written in 1438, and the impression of size and
prosperity which he gained from his first visit to the city still lingers in
its phrases. “ The amount of provisions which are brought into the city every
day seems almost incredible. There are many wagon-loads of eggs and crabs,
while white bread, meat, fish, and game are brought in great quantities. When
evening falls you will find nothing left for sale.” 3 One can almost
see the keen-eyed Italian standing in the market and watching the immense
stores of provisions gradually diminishing as the day wore on. The account of
Frederick ill’s journey to Italy for his coronation and marriage is practically
/Eneas’s diary of an expedition in which he played the part
1 Historia Friderici III (printed in
Kollar, An. Mon. Vindobon., ii. pp. 1-476).
2 Historia Bohemica (printed in Opera, pp.
81-143).
3 .(Eneas Silvius to a friend in Basel,
April 1438 (Wolkan, Ep. 27; Opera, Ep. 165).
of
organiser-in-chief. For the Diet of Regensburg, and the fruitless efforts to
stir up Europe to avenge the fall of Constantinople, he had his own History,
written three months after the close of the Congress.1 For other
episodes he found useful material in his De Viris Claris,2 a
collection of some fifty biographical sketches written between 1444 and 1450,
in which the exploits of famous contemporaries, soldiers and statesmen,
ecclesiastics and scholars, are recorded almost at haphazard, as if they had
been jotted down in the historian’s notebook for use on some future occasion.
Besides his own writings, he could rely upon the letters of his numerous
friends in Germany, and from them he obtained first-hand accounts of events
which he did not himself witness, such as the heroic relief of Belgrad and the
death of King Ladislas.
The circumstances of
his earlier life had given iEneas peculiar interest in Bohemia and considerable
personal knowledge of its inhabitants. He saw the Hussite leaders ride into
Basel for the Conference in 1433. In 1451 he was sent by Frederick 111 to
attend the Bohemian Diet at Beneschau. Both going and returning he passed
through Tabor, the stronghold of the extreme Hussites, and he afterwards wrote
a letter to Carvajal describing all that he had heard and seen there. While he
tarried in Rome in 1455, hoping to receive a Cardinal’s hat, he pleaded with
Calixtus iii for the recognition
of the Compacts in an oration which gave an attractive and illuminating
account of the conditions prevailing in Bohemia. With this oration still fresh
in his mind he embarked upon his History. The author’s attitude towards the
religion of the Bohemians is throughout that of the orthodox Catholic. The
Hussites are, in his eyes, “ men who deny obedience to the Roman Church and
forsake the religion of their ancestors, slayers of priests, spoilers of the
Church, without faith or good
1 Historia de Ratisponensi Dieta
(printed in Mansi, Orationes, vol. iii. pp. 1-85). _ ___
2 De Viris aetate sua Claris (Mansi, iii.
pp. 144-214).
works.” At Tabor he
was filled with holy horror at finding himself in a city where “ there are as
many heresies as there are heads, and where every one is at liberty to believe
what he will.” 1 A creed of which the adherents despised the
sacraments, refused to consecrate their churches, buried their dead in the
fields like beasts, and only cared about hearing sermons, seemed to him a mere
travesty of religion. The Taborites boasted that they followed the practices of
primitive Christian society, and had all things in common. But " the first
disciples distributed of their own goods to the brethren, and took nothing from
strangers save what was freely given for the love of Christ. These men plunder
the goods of others, and live in common upon the spoils of violence.” 2
In the face of the prosperity and the victories of these impious heretics,
.Eneas feels obliged to evolve a theory by which to reconcile their present
fortune with Divine justice. “ As no one is so wicked as to be without one
spark of good,” he writes, “ God rewards the good in these persons with the
blessings of this frail and fleeting life. Eternal light He cannot grant them,
by reason of the greatness of their sins.”3 Nevertheless, .Eneas is
fascinated by the Bohemians even while he disapproves. When he describes the
fierce bravery of the Hussite warriors, or the holy fortitude with which Hus
and Jerome of Prag met their death at the stake, he writes with sympathy and
enthusiasm. In the days of the Catholic Reaction this separation of heretics
from their heresy was a crime for which unimpeachable orthodoxy could not
atone, and Pope Pius Ii’s Historia Bohemica eventually found its way on to the
Index.
Neither the History
of Bohemia nor the History of Frederick III are limited to the events of the
author’s own day. His main authorities for the early history of Bohemia are the
chronicles of Pulkawa and Dalimil, and the ancient
1 /Eneas Silvius to Cardinal Carvajal, 21
August 1451 (Opera, Ep. 130, p. 661).
2 hoc. cit., p. 662. 3 Historia Bohemica (Opera), p.
8i.
sagas, telling of
Cecil, Krok, and other legendary heroes of the Tchech nation. /Eneas’s critical
spirit prevented him from giving credence to their least plausible statements,
but he lacked the material with which to correct their errors. For the
introductory chapters of his Frederick III he was forced to make use of “ a
certain history which they call Austrian, written in the German tongue, which
is both stupid and lying, the work of one of whom it is hard to judge whether
he is more knave or fool.” 1 He proceeds to expose the follies and
inaccuracies of this “ two-legged ass ” with rather wearisome fulness, until
the works of Otto of Freisingen provide him with worthier material. For Otto,
the uncle of Barbarossa, who ranks with our hero in the goodly company of
historians who are also ecclesiastics, /Eneas has the warmest admiration. “ It
is praiseworthy in Otto,” he writes, “ that although he records the deeds of
his brother and nephew, who were enemies of the Roman Pontiffs, he so obeys the
law of history that truth does not suffer from his kinship, nor his kinship
from truth.” 2
Pius n’s
accession to the Papacy might well be expected to have put an end to his
literary work. But the habits of a lifetime are hard to set aside, and during
the years of his Pontificate he dedicated to history hours that should have
been spent in rest and sleep. The last book of the Commentaries carries the
events of his reign down to the spring of 1464, the eve of his departure for
Ancona. His motive for writing a history of his Pontificate is characteristic
both of himself and of his age. A true humanist in his thirst for glory, he
longed for his name to live after him, and he considered it the plain duty of
every ruler to take thought for his future reputation. In the case of a Pope
this was all the more necessary, as the very prominence of his position placed
him more at the mercy of envious tongues. But “ envy will cease with death,”
and with the disappearance of personal passions which pervert justice, true
fame will have its opportunity, “ Pius will
1 Historia Friderici III, p. 15. a Ibid., p. 29.
be praised among
illustrious Popes.” 1 Hence the man who all through his life had
taken pleasure in explaining himself determined to provide posterity with the
material upon which a true judgment of his character could be based. Thus Pius
is himself the hero of his last and greatest work. This fact alone gives higher
artistic value to the Commentaries than is possessed by his earlier writings.
In them proportion is apt to suffer from the inveterate egoism which makes
/Eneas Silvius loom larger than the central figures of the canvas. In the
Commentaries the author’s egoism can have full play, and the more his
personality predominates the greater the unity of the whole.
The first book of the
Commentaries treats of the origins of the author’s family, and gives a brief
sketch of his career up to 1458 ; the remaining twelve books are devoted to the
events of his Pontificate.2 Yet we have here far more than a history
of Pius ii’s brief reign. At every turn episodes are introduced relating to the
history of those States and individuals with which the author came into
contact. Pius stays at Florence on his way to Mantua, and so pauses in his narrative
to explain the peculiar position of the Medici, and to enumerate the great men
of all ages who have made Florence famous. The arrival of Francesco Sforza at
Mantua provides the occasion for a digression on the Duchy of Milan in which
the author relates how “ the once powerful kingdom of the Lombards, with its
rich territories, passed to the Sforza, whose ancestors within the memory of
our fathers hardly possessed as much land as they could till.” 3 In
the same way, the'account of Pius ii’s negotiations with Louis xi over the
Pragmatic Sanction is prefaced by a sketch of French history which
traces the origin of
the Hundred Years War, and gives graphic descriptions of the battle of
Agincourt, the murder of John of Burgundy, and the career of Jeanne d’Arc.1
Thus the Commentaries embody the experience and observation of a lifetime.
There is hardly a great man of the day who does not figure in their pages ;
every phase of European politics is touched upon, and every important town in
Italy is described. And all is told in a style full of charm and individuality,
in which the freshness of a mediaeval chronicler mingles with the critical
spirit of a Renaissance scholar. It is surprising indeed that so remarkable a
book should be so comparatively little known.
It is impossible to
dwell upon the numerous historical essays scattered up and down our hero’s
works. In the Basel Dialogues /Eneas takes advantage of a chance reference to
the excommunication of King Lothair by Pope Nicholas 1 to ask his friend Martin
for an account of the origins of French history. The sketch which follows is an
example of his insatiable thirst for historical information. The same spirit
inspires a history of the Goths which he compiled from a manuscript by one
Jordanis, discovered in a German monastery, and the abridged edition of the
Decades of Flavius Blondus which he made during his Pontificate.2
The most enterprising of his undertakings was his plan for a Cosmogra-phia, or
universal history and geography. One day when Cardinal Piccolomini happened to
be detained in Rome by a bad attack of gout, a bookseller came to him with the
request that he would revise and finish a certain sketch of the history of the
Empire which he had in his possession.3 Thereupon /Eneas began to
collect material for a topographical history of the nations of Europe as he
knew them. After he became Pope, a discussion between himself and Federico,
Duke of Urbino, as to the borders of Asia
Minor took place in
the course of a morning ride to Tivoli, and this led him to extend the scope of
his work to include Asia.1 Both Europa and Asia, as they have come
down to posterity, are little more than preliminary collections of material,
incomplete, unequal, and devoid of style.2 Nevertheless, this
unfinished Cosmographia reveals iEneas as one extraordinarily well versed in
the literature of his subject, and able to combine book-learning with observation.
The strength of the work lies in its insistence upon the close connection between
geography and history, a characteristic which distinguishes all iEneas’s
historical writings. His Europa formed the basis of the sixteenth- century
cosmographies of Sebastian Franck and Sebastian Munster.3 His Asia
fired the imagination of a generation of explorers, and sent them forth to
discover for themselves the lands which he had pictured.
From a review of Pius
ii’s historical writings, bewildering
in their multiplicity, it is interesting to turn to the theory which inspired
his activity. In common with other humanists he urged the study of history on
grounds that were entirely practical. “ History is our guide to the days that
are now, because it exhibits those that are past,” he wrote in his treatise on
Education,4 and he is never tired of insisting upon the value of
history in the training of a statesman. Wisdom, he says, springs from
experience, and “ the counsels of the aged are valued owing to the manifold
experience which has made them wise.” Yet one man’s life is so short that human
experience is limited to some seventy or eighty years, but the study of
history may extend that experience “ throughout the centuries that the world
has been.” In this sense it may be said that “ history alone can give to the
young the wisdom that is not theirs by nature.”
With this lofty
conception before him, it was natural that /Eneas should approach his subject
in the spirit of a scientific historian. The discovery of truth is his primary
object; “not to deviate from the paths of truth,” is the fundamental law which
he dares not break. Nowhere does he show himself more thoroughly modern than in
his attempt to lay down rules for estimating the value of evidence. “ All that
is written must not necessarily be believed,” he tells us, “ and only the
canonical Scriptures have undoubted authority. In other cases one must discover
who the author is, what life he led, to what sect he belonged, and what is his
personal worth. It is also necessary to consider with what other accounts he
agrees, and from which he differs, and whether what he says is probable, and in
accordance with the time and place of which he treats.” 1 In the
light of these maxims he refuses to believe that the Bohemians once went about
naked and lived on acorns, holding that the climate would make such customs impossible.
He dismisses the theory that the original Bohemians were among the builders of
the tower of Babel with the contemptuous remark that, if the Bohemians were so
anxious to prove their ancient lineage, they might as well trace their ancestry
to Noah’s Ark, and to our first parents in Eden.2 In answer to the
suggestion that the name Vienna originally came from bienna, the city having
twice resisted the arms of Julius Caesar, he points out that no record of
Caesar having fought in Austria is to be found in the classical authorities.3
The same spirit shows itself in his treatment of the problems of his own day.
He will lay the facts before his readers, suggest alternative explanations, and
leave the ultimate verdict to posterity in a way that is
iEneas
strove, and strove successfully, to make himself a scientific historian, but he
was a born artist. He possessed to the full the artist’s sensitiveness to
impression, and whether the impression came to him from a scene which he
witnessed, a person with whom he came into contact, or a manuscript which fell
into his hands, he could not fail to reproduce it as a picture. The true lyric
note sounds in his description of that stupendous monument of a vanished
civilisation—Hadrian’s Villa at Tivoli. “ Walls once hung with rich tapestries
and cloth of gold are now clothed with ivy ; thorns and brambles usurp the
seats of purple-robed tribunes ; the sumptuous dwelling-places of queens have
become the abode of serpents.” 2 It rings out again when Pius tells
how he
Other pictures which
he gives us are illumined by flashes of half-kindly, half-malicious humour. He
describes the festivities attending the reception of S. Andrew’s head in Rome,
and relates how he insisted that all the Cardinals taking part in the final
procession to S. Peter’s should go on foot. It was a great sight, he assures
us, to see old men nurtured in luxury, who would not as a rule go a hundred
yards on horseback, " accomplishing that day two miles on foot, through
the mud and wet, carrying the weight of their priestly attire.” Corpulence in
many cases added to the load, but “ love bore the burden,” and the heated ecclesiastics
struggled valiantly to their goal.2 During one of his pilgrimages in
Tuscany, Pius 11 visited the great Sienese sanctuary of Monte Oliveto and was
profoundly impressed by the splendid buildings, the gardens and orchards, the
cool groves and sparkling fountains which adorned this monastic paradise. The
memory of his visit lives to-day owing to the characteristic remark with which
he concludes his description. “ Great are the pleasures of the monks who dwell
there,” says the inveterate worldling, “ greater still are the pleasures of
those who having seen all can go away.” 3
It is the same human
touch, employed in a very different connection, which distinguishes Pius ii’s account of the death-bed of the
great Hungarian leader, Hunyadi.
After telling of his
exploits against the Turks, culminating in the brilliant relief of Belgrad,
Pius writes : “ When he knew that his last hour had come, he would not suffer
the Body of the Lord to be brought to him, saying that it was not meet for a
King to enter the house of a servant. Rising from his bed, he commanded that he
should be carried into the Church, and there he made confession after the
manner of Christians ; then, amid the ministrations of the priests, he gave
back his soul to God.” 1 In this tender story Pius has left a
finished sketch of Hunyadi’s simple, heroic character. The scientific historian
may aim at writing true history, but it needs an artist to present truth in a
form which the human mind can realise and remember.
Pius ii’s great biographer Voigt, who always
regarded his hero as something of a charlatan, accuses him of sacrificing
truth to artistic effect, and of thus vitiating his work as an historian. Pius
certainly realised that the permanent impression of the events which he
recorded depended largely upon the way in which they were brought before his
readers. “ Great is eloquence,” he once said, “ and if truth be told, nothing
so much rules the world.” 2 A busy life often prevented him from
giving the necessary finish to his writings, and his by no means faultless
Latinity condemned him in the eyes of his contemporaries. Nevertheless, he
paid deliberate attention to style, making it his aim to write “ as a clever
man speaks when he lets himself go, and does not wish to show off either his
taste or his learning.”3 He disliked copying documents verbatim,
fearing that their uncouth form would spoil the artistic unity of his work, and
preferring to summarise their contents in his own words. A comparison between
the Commentaries and the collected editions of Pius ii’s Bulls
WELL-HEAD
I'ALAZZO PICCOLOMINI,
1'IENZA
and orations shows a
tendency to improve even his own compositions when transcribing them in his
narrative. In the same way, he followed the approved classical tradition of
putting speeches of his own making into the mouths of historical personages, as
a means of summing up the issues and sentiments of the moment. Yet all these
characteristics are questions of method rather than of principle, and they
detract nothing from the truthfulness of the general impression which he
conveys. If Pius failed at times to keep “ the law of history,” it is the
politician and not the artist who must bear the blame. The politician was impelled
to write, at subsequent stages of his career, as the champion or the critic of
the Conciliar movement, as the obsequious servant of Frederick 111, or as the
panegyrist of Pope Pius 11. The artist, meanwhile, fought on the side of
historical veracity, and painted a truthful picture almost against the will of the
author. The sincerity of /Eneas Silvius, in the sphere of letters as in
practical life, will always remain more or less of a problem, and varied as are
the solutions offered, certain obvious flaws in his character prevent the
question from being answered entirely in his favour. Nevertheless, his
strength lies in the possession of qualities of mind and heart peculiarly
fitted for dealing with men, both in the world around him and in his literary
work. Sympathy and observation enabled him to read the characters of those who
controlled the destinies of Europe and to sway their policy. Sympathy and
observation enabled him to appreciate the men and movements of all ages, and to
make them live again in the pages of his history.
PIUS II AND THE
CRUSADE
IN the history of
Pius ii’s dealings with Italy and
Europe the affairs of the East play a subordinate part. At times it seemed as
if they were in danger of being thrust aside owing to the pressure of events
nearer home. Nevertheless, they never for one moment lost their prominence in
the Pope’s mind. To him the Italian wars and the diplomatic struggle in France
and the Empire were, from first to last, a means towards an end ; the ultimate
object underlying every phase of the Papal policy was the marshalling of a united
Christendom against the infidel. To the Princes of Europe, however, the means
were vastly more important than the end. The crusading cause demanded a prompt
settlement of the political problems of the day in order that Europe might be
free to wage war on the Turk. But the Princes, where their personal interests
were involved, cared little about the promptitude of the settlement, and a
great deal about its terms. Therefore Europe wasted itself in petty warfare and
interminable negotiations, while the Turks pursued their victorious course with
a steadiness that knew no obstacle.
Before the opening of
the Congress of Mantua the news reached Rome that Servia had become a Turkish
province, and in the summer of 1459, Semendria, the last Servian stronghold on
the Danube, was treacherously sold to the Turk by its guardian, Stephan, son of
the King of Bosnia. " This event,” says Pius, “ was as great a blow to the
hearts
The same years saw
the overthrow of the last remnant of the Palaeologian Empire. After the fall of
Constantinople, the Emperor’s two brothers, Demetrius and Thomas, were
permitted to continue as despots of the Morea, on condition of paying tribute
to the Sultan. The brothers maintained separate courts, Thomas residing at
Patras and Demetrius at Mistra, and, in the opinion of a contemporary, their
mutual hatred was such that " each would gladly have devoured the other’s
heart.” 2 Thomas was so far superior to his brother that he was not
content to acquiesce tamely in whatever treatment the Sultan might choose to
mete out to him. When his overlord calmly took possession of a large slice of
his territory, he appealed for help to the Congress of Mantua. Three hundred
Italians were sent to his aid, a hundred of whom were paid and equipped by the
Duchess of Milan. These troops took part in Thomas’s vain attempt to storm
Patras in the autumn of 1459, but they were powerless to resist the Sultan’s
vengeance. Not many months later the Morea passed directly beneath the Turkish
yoke. Thomas fled to Rome, and Demetrius retired with a pension to Adrianople,
while his daughter entered Mahomet n’s harem.
In September 1461 the
Venetians brought news of the fall of Sinope and, with it, the little Empire of
Trebizond upon the shores of the Black Sea. Only in Albania the bold adventurer
Scanderbeg still maintained his independence, and even he, despairing of help
from Europe, was forced to sign a disadvantageous truce with the Sultan. In
1462 Mahomet 11 launched a fleet in the iEgean which was destined to overthrow
the rule of the Knights of S. John at Rhodes. The Knights succeeded in holding
their own, but the Genoese Government was expelled from Lesbos with ruthless
violence, while some Venetian ships
Meanwhile
the tale of disaster in the East was repeatedly brought home to Italy by the
arrival of victims of the Turkish onslaught, seeking refuge and imploring aid.
As with beggars of a humbler kind, it was difficult to distinguish genuine
cases from impostors. Many a needy adventurer discovered that a picturesque
costume, a sensational story, and a high-sounding Oriental title could be
turned to considerable profit in Western Europe. Among the earliest of these
somewhat shady suppliants was one Moses Giblet, Archdeacon of Antioch, who
visited the Pope at Siena in April 1460, bearing letters from the Patriarchs of
Jerusalem, Antioch, and Alexandria, in which they professed their obedience to
the Western Church and besought Papal protection. Giblet came of a
distinguished Syrian family, and Pius 11 found him “ well versed in Greek and
Syrian literature.” 2 Yet the bare record of the incident in the
Commentaries seems to indicate that the Pope regarded it with more suspicion
than satisfaction, and it was entirely without practical result. In December of
the same year an embassy on a far more magnificent scale appeared in Rome. The
company, we learn, included envoys from “ David, Emperor of Trebizond; George,
King of Persia; the King of Mesopotamia; Gorgora, Duke of Greater Iberia; and
Urtebecus, Lord of Armenia Minor. . . . These legates were so strange in
manners and dress that they were a cause of astonishment to all. Wherever they
went they 1 Commentavii, lib. x. p. 244. 2 Ibid., lib. iv. p. 103.
drew the gaze of the
people, and a crowd of boys followed them in the streets.” 1 Some of
the party were tonsured like monks, and the Mesopotamian envoy’s head was clean
shaven except for a waving tuft of hair on his crown. They possessed voracious
appetites, and were said to consume twenty pounds of meat apiece every day. “
If our contest were over a banquet,” said the Pope to Campano, “ we should be
certain of victory with these men as our allies.” 2 These strange
visitors were marshalled by a Franciscan, Lodovico of Bologna, who had been
sent on a mission to the East some years before. The embassy was to all
appearance genuine. It had visited Frederick iii
on the way through Germany, and had been received with every mark of
honour by the Venetian Republic. Its proposals, moreover, were as splendid as
its equipment. The envoys offered, in the name of their respective masters, to
bring an army of 120,000 men into the field with which to attack the Turk from
Asia, on condition that the powers of Europe attacked with an equal force from
the West. Pius could not fall short of Venice in his hospitality. He
entertained the envoys in Rome, and advised them to visit the Courts of
Burgundy and France, in order to expound their proposals and solicit aid. He
even went so far as to pay the expenses of their journey; but he turned a deaf
ear to Lodovico’s request that he should be made Patriarch of the Eastern
Christians professing the Roman obedience. The envoys arrived in France in time
to see the funeral of Charles vn and the coronation of Louis xi, and they were
duly impressed by the sumptuous brilliancy which distinguished the Burgundian
Court. “ Behold, we come like wise men from the East to the star which we have
seen in the West,” said the spokesman of the party to Duke Philip.3
Nevertheless, in neither place did they evoke enthusiasm for their cause or
obtain any material aid, and in the meantime doubts as to their character began
to arise
The year 1461 brought
two more suppliants to the feet of the Holy Father. Neither their identity nor
their good faith could be called in question, yet they were as necessitous as
their forerunners, and they made even larger demands upon the Papal bounty. On
15 October 1461 a beautiful and distressed lady arrived at the Vatican and
besought Pius 11 for aid. This was Charlotte of Lusignan, Queen of Cyprus,
whose kingdom had been usurped by her illegitimate brother James, acting in
concert with the Turk. Queen Charlotte was married to Louis, son of the Duke of
Savoy, and he, at this moment, was closely besieged in the fortress of Cerina
by the forces of the usurper. The plucky girl had been stirred to action by
Louis’s misfortune, and had
One day in Lent 1461
the fugitive Thomas Palaeologus arrived in Rome with his wife and four
children. Common opinion pronounced him to be a fine man, grave yet pleasing in
expression, with good manners and princely bearing. He brought with him seventy
horses, of which all but three were borrowed, and he seemed entirely without
resources. Pius was full of sympathy for the exile, and gave him
lodgings at Santo Spirito, with a pension of three hundred ducats a month, to
which the Cardinals added two hundred ducats.After a few vain attempts
to find allies who would help
The head of S. Andrew
had hitherto been preserved at Patras, from whence it had been taken by Thomas
Palaeologus to save it from the infidel. “ The Pope,” we read, " was much
grieved at the exile of the sacred head. But as it could not easily be restored
to its resting-place, he knew no worthier refuge for it than Rome, by the bones
of its brother S. Peter, Prince of the Apostles, and under the protection of
the Holy See, the Ark of the Faith.” 1 Cardinal Oliva went to meet
the relic at Ancona and to place it in safe custody at Narni, until such time
as it could be received in Rome with due honour. Not until the spring of 1462
did a favourable opportunity arise. Then, on Palm Sunday, the head was brought
by three Cardinals from Narni to the Ponte Molle, outside the walls
The head was placed
for the night upon the altar of S. Maria del Popolo, and the next day it was
carried in procession to its final resting-place at S. Peter’s. True April
weather prevailed, and all through the night the rain fell in torrents. It was
feared that the ceremonies of the morrow would be interrupted, and Pius was distressed
at the thought of the disappointment of the crowds who had come to Rome for the
occasion. Great was his delight when the storm ceased at dawn, and the sun rose
with new splendour. The change, he said, was due to
“Node pluit tota redeunt spectacula mane.
Divisum imperium cum Jove Caesar habet.”1
In the days of the
Renaissance, there was nothing incongruous in this juxtaposition of S. Andrew
and Jupiter. Heathen gods and Christian saints held “ divided Empire ” over the
humanist Pope.
The streets between
S. Maria del Popolo and the Vatican were decorated with an ingenuity and a
magnificence that were only surpassed in the decorations at Viterbo a few
weeks later. On this occasion, also, the work of Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia
outshone all others. His palace reminded the Pope of the Emperor Nero’s famous
golden house, and he had even decorated the palaces of his neighbours, so that
the entire Piazza seemed a paradise of sight and sound. When at last the Pope
made his appearance in the Piazza of S. Peter’s, borne in a golden litter
beneath a sumptuous baldacchino, and carrying in his hands the sacred head, “ a
great cry arose like the roar of many waters.” At the top of the marble steps
he turned to bless the multitude and to exhibit the relic, before placing it
with the bones of S. Peter and S. Paul in the centre of the basilica. Inside S.
Peter’s, Bessarion made an oration which gained scant attention from his
wearied hearers. Then, after a brief reply from the Pope and a few prayers, the
company dispersed—the ceremonies of the great day were over. Pius subsequently
built the beautiful chapel of S. Andrew to contain the relic, and here, at his
desire, his own body was placed. In the building of the new S. Peter’s the
chapel of S. Andrew was demolished, but the great statue of the saint at the
south-west corner of the dome still guards the place where the exile from
Patras found its last home.
Meanwhile the years
slipped by, each bringing a fresh tale of disaster from the East, and still no
practical effect had been given to the Mantuan programme. To judge from the
ill-success which attended the attempt to levy Turkish tithes, a Crusade which
depended for its finance upon the response made to the Mantuan decrees had a
gloomy future before it. Immediately after the close of the Congress collectors
armed with Papal letters were dispatched throughout Europe—to England, to the
Spanish kingdoms, to Norway, to Sweden, and even to semi-barbarous Lithuania.
Everywhere their demands met with blank indifference, if not with actual
hostility. Borso d’Este, who had actually signed the decrees authorising the
levy, refused to allow tithes to be collected in his dominions.1 The
very Cardinals grumbled and raised objections when they were asked for their
contribution. The point of view expressed by the chronicler of Bologna is only
too typical of the attitude of Christendom towards the Pope’s crusading policy.
In Lent 1460, he tells us, the Papal letters were read in the Church of S.
Petronio, and every one who refused to pay his tenth or his thirtieth was
denied Confession and Communion. But the sole result was that “ those who did
not wish to pay so heavy a tax ceased to confess or communicate. . . . The Pope
said he wanted the money to make war on the Turk; but this was not true, as he
intended nothing of the sort. It was an act of robbery, so take heed before you
pay your share.” 2
The plans framed at
Mantua were clearly unworkable. If the Pope still persisted, he must devise
fresh schemes, and must himself put them into effect. Thrown thus upon his own
resources, Pius 11 turned first to his own peculiar weapon—to the weapon of
persuasion, which he had wielded so often and so successfully in bygone years.
In the autumn of 1461
he composed his famous letter to the Sultan, in which he sought to convert the
Turkish monarch, and to turn him from an enemy into an obedient and honoured
son of the Church. The treatise is a masterpiece of eloquence and learning. In
lucid terms, Pius contrasted the teaching of Christ with that of the Koran, and
set forward the superiority of Christian civilisation. He reminded the Sultan
of earlier converts, such as Constantine and Clovis, whose baptism had won
whole nations for the Catholic Church. He invited him to come like Pepin and
Charlemagne to the aid of the Pope, and to receive, as they had, new benefits
at his hands. He rose to heights of impassioned eloquence in depicting the era
of universal prosperity which would dawn upon the Sultan’s acceptance of
Christianity. "O what a fullness of peace it would be ! What exultation
among Christian people, what joy in the whole earth ! The Golden Age of
Augustus, sung by the poets, would return. The leopard would lie down with the
lamb, the calf with the lion. Swords would be turned into pruning- hooks . . .
the wilderness would blossom, the earth would resound with the chaunting of
monks. . . . O how great would be your joy if you were the means of bringing so
many sheep into the fold of the Eternal Shepherd, if you were the author of
peace and welfare among men.” 1
The letter was widely
read, and the numerous forgeries which purported to continue the correspondence
are proof of the impression which it made. Unfortunately, there is no
indication of the effect which it produced on Mahomet 11. The cultured patron
of scholars and artists must doubtless have appreciated the literary value of
the treatise, but, as far as we know, the picture of that halfpagan,
half-Christian Utopia painted for him by Pius II left him unmoved. In the
following year Pius sought other and sterner weapons. Summoning six of the Cardinals to his
presence, he declared to them his intention of going in person upon a Crusade.
The programme which
Pius ii unfolded to the startled
Cardinals was the fruit of many a sleepless night, when he lay tossing from
side to side, his old blood boiling at the shameful thought that nothing had
been done in defence of Christendom. Mature reflection impelled him to the
conclusion that the only way of stirring sleeping Europe into action was to go
himself against the Turks. All doubts as to the sincerity of his purpose would
thus be dissipated, and, old and ill as he was, he could at least inspire
others by his example. The Duke of Burgundy had vowed to go on a Crusade if
another Prince would consent to accompany him. He would be forced to keep his
promise, and would bring others in his train. " The noise of our resolve
will resound through Christendom like a thunder-clap, rousing the faithful to
the defence of religion.” The new weapon was, in fact, not
extraordinarily unlike the old. Letters and orations had failed to persuade,
therefore the Pope had recourse to drama. If the sight of the Head of
Christendom preparing to lay down his life for the flock did not dispel the
clouds of selfishness and apathy, then indeed Europe must be impervious to persuasion,
unable to be touched by any noble and generous appeal.
The Cardinals
pronounced the Pope’s plan to be worthy of the Vicar of Christ, although
numerous difficulties at once occurred to them which might wreck the whole
undertaking. Pius, however, had the details at his finger-ends, and was ready
with an answer to all their objections. The Crusade, as he freely acknowledged,
depended for its success upon the cooperation of Venice, who alone could
supply a fleet to transport the Crusaders to the East. He would write
confidentially to the Doge on the subject, and on receiving a favourable reply,
would send embassies to France and Burgundy, asking aid of the one, and calling
The Venetian Republic
sent a somewhat vague reply to the Pope’s letter, but it was
sufficiently favourable to justify the departure of the Bishop of Ferrara upon
a mission to France and Burgundy. Louis xx gave him little encouragement. He
was inclined to treat the whole matter as a pretext for drawing attention away
from the Neapolitan war, and declared that during the next year he would be
fully occupied in helping to restore Henry vx to the throne of England. "
I will give you four years for that business,” was the Bishop’s pertinent
rejoinder.3 The Pope’s proposals were more favourably received at
the Burgundian Court. Duke Philip was just recovering from a dangerous illness,
and he was awed by the thought that death had all but overtaken him with his
crusading vow still unfulfilled. The Bishop set out on his return journey with
the assurance that a Burgundian embassy, provided with the fullest
instructions, would shortly follow him across the Alps.
In the meantime, two
events had occurred in Italy which were calculated to serve the cause of the
Crusade. The Doge, Prospero Malipiero, a persistent advocate of peace with the
Turk, died on 5 May 1462 and was succeeded by Cristoforo Moro. The same month
saw the discovery of the alum mountains at Tolfa, a find as valuable as it was
unexpected, which seemed to augur success for the Pope’s enterprise.4
The discoverer was a certain
The year 1463 was not
without promise for the Crusade. The fall of Bosnia seemed at last to have
convinced Venice of the danger of delay, and the Republic begged leave of the
Pope to collect the Turkish tithes throughout her dominions. In July Bessarion
took up his residence in Venice as legate a latere.2 He found active
preparations
1 Raynaldus, 1463, No. 86, 7 April 1463.
2 Cf. Pastor, iii. p. 318. Sanudo says
that Bessarion arrived in August.
in progress both by
land and sea, and by the end of the month he was able to report that war with
the Turk had been declared. Meanwhile a Franciscan friar preached the Crusade
upon the Piazza, and inside S. Marco stood a massive iron chest to receive the
offerings of the faithful.1 In Hungary, too, the long quarrel
between the Emperor and Matthias Corvinus was brought to an end, and the peace
for which Carvajal had laboured so unremittingly was signed at Neustadt on 24
July. An offensive alliance between Hungary and Venice followed two months
later. The two powers most nearly affected by the Turk were at length uniting
to give him battle.
After three months’
villegiatura at Tivoli, Pius returned to Rome on 9 September, in order to
welcome the much- desired embassy from Burgundy. The visit of the Burgundians
was made the occasion for a meeting of Italian envoys in Rome, to discuss ways
and means of promoting the Crusade. As usual, many eloquent orations were made,
and when the Burgundian representative announced that his master would start
for the East at the head of six thousand men in the following spring, no one
could say enough in the Duke’s praise.2 But when the Pope called on
the Italians to follow the example of Burgundy and to obey the Mantuan decrees,
matters were again brought to a standstill. All approved as private persons of
the levy of tithes; none save the Venetians had power as ambassadors to promise
contributions. Nothing could be done until the envoys had been to consult their
respective Governments. While they went, Pius tried to turn the unwelcome
delay to good account by winning over his chief opponents among the Cardinals.
The oration which he made to the Sacred College on this occasion3
contains the fullest exposition of his views and policy with regard to the
Crusade.
1 Sanudo,
Vitae Ducum Venetorum (Muratori, xxii. p. 1174).
2 Commentarii,
lib. xii. p. 332.
3 Mansi,
Orationes, ii. p. 68 ; Commentarii, lib. xii. pp. 336-41.
Five years, he said,
had passed since his accession, yet not until the present time had the state of
Italy permitted of anything being done in defence of Christendom. From the
first the Crusade had been his ultimate object. “ We fought for Christ when we
defended Ferrante. We waged war on the Turk when we smote the territories of
Sigismondo.” Now at last God had sent peace, and the time had come to strike
directly at the enemies of the Church. Now was the opportunity for the
Cardinals to prove the reality of their devotion, and, disregarding
difficulties and discomforts, to follow Christ’s Vicar to war. It was useless
to advise staying at home and sending money to Hungary for the prosecution of
the Crusade. The Papacy no longer had the power of raising money. “ Our
condition is that of bankers who have lost their credit : no one believes in
us; the priesthood is despised.” Thus the first step was to restore the
reputation of the Papacy, and this could best be done by the means originally
employed to build up its greatness. “ Abstinence, chastity, zeal for the faith,
contempt of death, desire for martyrdom,” these had once made the Roman Church
mistress of the world. Now was the moment to prove that these virtues were not
yet dead, and to rekindle enthusiasm for the Church by a conspicuous example of
nobility in its leaders. “ The call to go has met with no response; perhaps men
will attend better to ‘ Come.’ . . . We do not go to fight. We will imitate
Moses, who prayed on the mountain while Israel fought against Amalek. On the
ship’s prow or on the mountain-top, having before our eyes the Holy Eucharist
—that is, our Lord Jesus Christ—we will entreat of Him victory for our soldiers
in battle. ... For God’s sake we leave our see and the Roman Church, committing
our grey hairs and our feeble body to His mercy. He will not forget us, and if
He does not grant us safe return, He will receive us into heaven, and will
preserve His see of Rome and His Bride the Church in safety.”
The words came from
the depth of the Pope’s heart,
and, like all
outbursts of genuine enthusiasm, they proved irresistibly infectious. Some of
the Cardinals, such as the vicious and scheming Bishop of Arras, remained
unmoved, but the majority declared themselves ready to throw in their lot with
the Pope. Carvajal, whose task in Hungary had at times been made more difficult
by the Pope’s timid diplomacy, was now finally convinced of his sincerity. “
Until to-day,” he exclaimed, “ I have thought you a man. Now I believe you to
be an angel. You have won me to your opinion. May God be with your enterprise.
I will be your companion, and by sea and by land I will be ever at your side.
Should your way lead through the flames I would still follow you, for you are
treading the straight path to heaven.” 1
During these busy
weeks of negotiation and preparation Pius was, indeed, seen at his best. Now
that the decisive step was taken, the weaker elements of his character seemed
to fall from him like a cast-off garment, while his high courage, boundless
energy, and immense capacity for detail called forth the admiration of all who
came in contact with him. Day and night he laboured for the cause, organising,
contriving, entreating, censuring, and although results for the most part fell
short of his expectations, his persistence was such that almost every one
concerned found himself pledged to do considerably more than he had intended. A
commission of Cardinals was appointed to collect the necessary funds, while the
Pope’s private treasurer, Niccolo Piccolomini, had charge of a special Crusade
account-book, in which all details of receipt and expenditure were recorded.
The discovery of this book, bound in red morocco, and stamped with the Papal
arms, goes far to disprove the charges of mismanagement and neglect which have
been freely raised against Pius 11’s preparations for war.2
1 Commentarii, lib. xii. p. 341.
2 Cf. Pastor, iii. p. 336. The
account-book is preserved in the Archivio di Stato, Rome.
21
As the autumn
advanced the plague broke out in Rome with unusual severity. Many fled the
city, but Pius remained at his post. Among his chief cares was the creation of
a fleet, and he himself undertook to provide three galleys as well as several
smaller vessels. Seven Cardinals promised to equip a galley apiece, and others
were expected from various Italian powers.1 The Pope’s dearest wish
was to obtain the services of Francesco Sforza as leader of the Papal forces.
The condottiere Duke, however, was no enthusiast. He was prepared to send a
contingent to the East which would satisfy the claims of friendship and be
worthy of his dignity, but not even for Pius ii would he jeopardise his throne
in order to go on an expedition which he regarded as fantastic and chimerical.
His refusal was a bitter disappointment to Pius.2 No less
disheartening was the apathy of Siena, who after endless delay offered the
miserly sum of 3000 ducats as her contribution to the Crusade. On the Pope’s
remonstrance the contribution was raised to 10,000 ducats, which Pius accepted
with gratitude, for love of his country, he tells us, and not because he
thought it adequate. Meanwhile the representatives of the Italian powers
returned to Rome with their answers. Genoa, Savoy, and Montferrat vouchsafed no
reply, but the other States consented to abide by the Mantuan decrees. Florence
said that she could do nothing at the moment, for fear of injuring the numerous
Florentine merchants living in Constantinople ; but her envoy reported that
steps were being taken to remove the merchants and their goods to a place of
safety and that, when this was accomplished, Florence would be ready to take
her proper share in the enterprise.3 On 19 October an offensive
alliance against the Turk was signed by the Pope, Venice, and Burgundy, and
three days later the Bull Ezechielis,
1 Cf, Sanudo (Muratori, xxii. 1178).
2 The Pope’s letter to Sforza is given in
Mansi, iii. p. 103; Sforza’s answer in Opera, Ep. 392.
3 Commentarii, lib. xii. p. 342.
publishing the
Crusade, was read in a public Consistory.1 The Romans at once raised
a protest, fearing the loss they would incur by the Pope’s departure, and they
were only partially reassured by the promise that the chief officials of the
Curia should remain at their posts. Nevertheless, the reading of the Bull
produced a profound impression. Many who had been inclined to treat the whole
enterprise as a fantasy began to see that the Crusade might prove both heroic
and successful. All depended on the effective co-operation of the Pope and
Burgundy. “ May God, whose cause is at stake, grant long life to the Pope and
the Duke,” 2 wrote the Milanese ambassador at the conclusion of his
report on the proceedings. During the Consistory Pius was suffering so acutely
from gout in the feet that he could hardly manage to hide his anguish, and
directly it was over he retired to bed. Yet he was happy in the midst of his
pain, because he realised that his efforts had borne fruit—at last the Crusade
was being taken seriously.
The Bull Ezechielis
was published throughout Europe, and it roused instant support from the lower
classes. In Germany, the princes were content to answer the Papal legates with
fair words, but “ the people forsook their wagons and ploughs and hastened to
Rome to take arms against the Turk.” 3 Meanwhile everything in the
political situation seemed to pave the way for departure. Success attended the
Venetians in the East. The submission of Malatesta terminated the long struggle
in the March. The death of the Prince of Taranto left Ferrante in undisputed
possession of practically the whole kingdom of Naples. Above all, the Venetian
Republic seemed as zealous for the Crusade as the Pope himself could wish. On
25 October, Pius addressed a letter to the Doge urging him to join the Crusade
in person. “ We shall be three
1 The Bull is given in Opera, as Ep.
412. Cf. Commentarii, lib. xii. p.
344
2 Otto Carretto to the Duke of Milan, 25
Oct. 1463 (Pastor, 111. p. 333,
from the original in
Bib. Ambrosiana, Milano).
3 Pastor, iii. p. 334, from the Hamburg
Chronicle.
old men,” he said, “
and God rejoices in a trinity. Our trinity will be aided by the Trinity of
heaven, and our foes will be confounded before our eyes.” 1 The
letter was discussed in the Senate, where the Doge pleaded his advancing years
as an excuse for not acceding to the Pope’s request. His colleagues, however,
were determined that he should go, and, after the manner of Venetians, they
sacrificed the individual to the Republic without hesitation or pity. “ If your
Serene Highness will not embark of your own free will we will use force,” said
one of those present; “we value the honour and welfare of this city more than
your person.” 2 Thus Pius began to look forward with some degree of
confidence to setting sail for the East in the coming spring. The concluding
words of the twelfth book of the Commentaries, written on I January 1464,
breathe the atmosphere of the moment. From them we learn the condition of the
Pope’s mind as the new year dawned. “ Now no further obstacle remained in the
way of Pope Pius’s expedition against the Turk, and it seemed likely that much
might occur to prosper it. Fortified by these considerations he applied himself
to his task, making vast preparations of all things necessary for war; on which
beginnings may God have mercy.” 3
The year 1464 brought
a rude awakening from Pius n’s dreams of a glorious and successful Crusade.
What he regarded as a promising beginning was in reality a climax. He had done
his utmost, and the response which his enthusiasm had evoked concealed for a
moment the real hollowness of the crusading plans. Now, during seven weary
months of disappointment and disillusionment, the Pope was to learn that he had
striven in vain, and that his great venture was doomed to failure. The brief
span
1 Cf. Raynaldus, 1463, No. 41, and
Malipiero, AnnaU Veneti (Arch. Stor. ItaL, t. vii. pt. 1, 1st series, p. 18).
2 Sanudo (Muratori, xxii. p. n74).
3 Commentarii. lib. xii. p. 447.
of life that remained
to him was spent in futile effort and pitiable struggling against the
inevitable. Nevertheless, this last phase of his career is fashioned upon
nobler lines than those which preceded it. Pius, the calculating, ambitious
climber, who had faced facts so remorselessly all his life, ceased to face them
now. He owed much of his success in life to his refusal to attempt what he
could not reasonably expect to accomplish. He died a martyr to a hopeless' cause.
The failure of these last months is raised from ignominy to something
approaching grandeur by his inability to acknowledge that he was beaten.
THE LAST JOURNEY
MUTUAL jealousy among
the Italian States, absorption in their own affairs on the part of the Princes
of Europe—these two causes are mainly responsible for the tragedy of the next
few months. In Italy the crux of the situation lay with Venice. The isolation,
the wealth, and the almost unvarying success of the Republic of S. Mark had
already earned the hatred of her neighbours, and the fact that Venice was to
play a prominent part in the Crusade at once discredited it in Italian eyes.
Florence looked upon the whole enterprise as a deep-laid plot by which other
States would be made to fight the battles of Venice. Her envoy actually advised
the Pope to leave Venice and the Turk to weaken each other, and thus, by a
simple policy of non-interference, to free Italy from a double danger. Pius ii’s reply to this proposal was a stern
indictment of the Florentines, who “ would allow everything to go to perdition
if only their own Republic were saved.” 1 Nevertheless, there was
little love lost between the Pope and the Venetians, and, at heart, he was as
sceptical as Florence as to the motives which inspired their present activity.
The sons of Venice, he said, were merchants, and they “ expended gold only in
order to obtain gold.” “ Foolish is the thought of him who deems that these
people can be persuaded to noble deeds unless they bring with them tangible utility.”
In his opinion, the primary object of
1 Commentavii, lib. xii. p. 334.
Venice was the
conquest of the Morea ; the customs of the province were worth three thousand
ducats a year, and its situation made it likely to become the “ centre of the
world’s commerce,” should it pass under Venetian rule.1 Thus Pius
laboured under no illusions with regard to Venice, but he also realised that he
was dependent upon her aid, and so he had determined to co-operate with her
loyally. Venice, however, had no real desire for a common war against the Turk.
Her object throughout was to divert the Pope’s attention to the mainland
campaign, conducted by Hungary, in order that she might be left with unfettered
control over the naval operations. The preparations for the equipment of the
Papal fleet filled the Venetian envoy in Rome with uneasiness, and in January
1464 he began to say openly that it would be far better for the Pope not to go
on the Crusade in person.2 The diplomatic documents of the time
force us to the conclusion that the endless negotiations over the vessels to be
supplied by Venice for transport, the puerile excuses and the interminable
delays, all formed part of a deliberate scheme for hoodwinking the Pope and
making him serve the purposes of the Republic. It was a cruel deception, yet it
was eminently characteristic of Venetian policy. “ What do fishes care about
justice ? ” Pius had once said. “ As among animals there is least reason in the
inhabitants of the water, so of all the human race the Venetians are least just
and least merciful. They reverence their Republic as a god, and nothing else is
holy to them, nothing sacred. They hold that just which serves their Republic,
holy which increases their dominion.” 3 A worse blow had still to
fall. Pius spent Lent and Easter at Siena, and here, on Good Friday, he
received a letter containing such mournful news that he could
1 Commentarii,
lib. xii. pp. 314-5; Cugnoni, pp. 228-9.
2 Cf. Pastor, iii. p. 364, quoting from
the dispatch of the Milanese ambassador, 18 Jan. 1464.
3 Cugnoni, p. 225.
only speak of it as “
appropriate to the day of the Lord’s Passion.” 1 It announced that
the Duke of Burgundy had, at the instance of his suzerain Louis xi, postponed
his departure for the East for another year. All recognised that this decision
was tantamount to a total withdrawal from the Crusade. A year’s delay at Pius
n’s age was out of the question, and although the Duke promised to send his
illegitimate son with a respectable contingent of troops at the date originally
fixed, not even the Pope appears to have put faith in his word. " Every
tower must fall at last, if it is persistently bombarded by cannon,” 2
is Pius n’s comment on the catastrophe. Burgundy had, in truth, succumbed
before the repeated attacks of the peace party, headed by the arch-enemy of the
Crusade and of the Pope alike, Louis xi of France.
With the defection of
Burgundy vanished the last vestige of hope for a successful Crusade, and the
path of wisdom at this point was undoubtedly to abandon the whole enterprise.
Many were the voices which urged this course upon the heart-broken Pope. The
condition of his health made it increasingly improbable that he would be able
to bear the discomfort and fatigue of the voyage. Already every movement caused
him pain, and the difficulty of conveying him from place to place increased
with each day’s journey. On his return to Rome, towards the end of May, he was
seized with a fresh attack of fever and gout. The distracted Cardinals besought
him to remain at home, but his heart was set on the expedition, and he
expressed his determination to persevere even at the cost of his life. "
Every day seems to him like a year, so anxious is the Holy Father to reach
Ancona and to set sail.” 3 So
1 Commentarii, lib. xiii. p. 374 (printed
as an Appendix to Voigt, Pius II, vol. ii.).
2 Commentarii, lib. xiii. p. 372.
According to Malipiero (Annali Veneti, p. 27), the Duke of Milan and the
Florentines intrigued with the King of France to prevent Burgundy from going on
the Crusade.
3 Antonio Ricavo to the Marquis of Mantua,
10 April 1464 (Pastor iii. p. 347).
wrote the Mantuan
ambassador in April. Meanwhile Francesco Sforza was doing his utmost to
dissuade his friend from embarking.1 His envoys in Rome waxed
eloquent upon the manifold perils and inevitable disaster which must accompany
the Crusade, and Sforza even offered to mediate between Pius and Louis xi, if
the former would postpone his departure. The Pope, however, was not to be
moved. He knew that Francesco Sforza, as the friend of France and the enemy of
Venice, had personal reasons for disliking the Crusade. Therefore he regarded
all his arguments with suspicion, and Sforza was forced to confess his
inability to overcome the Pope’s " Sienese obstinacy.” 2
Meanwhile the final
preparations for departure were being made. At Pisa, Cardinal Forteguerra
superintended the equipment of the Papal fleet. Crusaders were flocking in
their thousands to Italy, and the Archbishop of Crete was appointed to take
charge of them. Many were quite unfitted for war, and the majority were ill
equipped. Thus the Archbishop had to grapple with the double problem of
persuading the unemployable to return to their homes and of providing arms for
those capable of bearing them. On 11 June, Cardinal Piccolomini was appointed
Vicar in Rome and in the Papal States. A week later, Pius 11 left the city. The
story of his long-drawn-out martyrdom, of the slow and painful journey to the
coast beneath the burning skies of an Italian summer, of the weary wait at
Ancona amid heat and plague and disappointment, and of the death which finally
brought release,—this can best be told by the Pope’s devoted disciple, Jacopo
Ammanati, Cardinal of Pavia. For the greater part of the time he was Pius’s
closest companion, and he was strengthened to endure his own share of
discomfort by the example of patience and
1 Cf. the dispatches of the Milanese
envoys quoted by Pastor, iii. pp. 350 seq.
2 Francesco Sforza, Instruction to the
French Ambassador, 10 August 1464 : “ Nuy gli dessuademo tale andata et faremo
el possibile perche non passi della ; benche l'habia el cervello Senese ”
(Pastor, iii. Appendix 62. From Cod. 1611, Fonds. Ital., Bibliothfeque
Nationale, Paris).
fortitude presented
to him by his master. Having been present “up to his last breath, hanging upon
his lips,” he wrote a full account of the events of these sad weeks to Cardinal
Piccolomini. “ Gladly do I think and speak of our Pius, ’ ’ writes the
sorrowing friend. “ By so doing I alleviate my longing for the departed and find
comfort.” 1
On 18 June, Ammanati
tells us, Pius took the Cross in S. Peter’s, and was borne in his litter to the
Ponte Molle, where he took leave of the crowd of prelates and citizens and
embarked in a barge upon the Tiber. This was a slow means of travel, but it
caused him the least discomfort, and for the next four days the barge pursued
its leisurely course up stream. Halts for the night were made at Castel
Giubileo, Fiano, and the Benedictine monastery at the foot of Soracte, but on
each occasion the Pope himself remained on board. The incidents of the journey
show us the Pius that we have always known, of undaunted spirit and quick
sympathy. Although weakened and unnerved by illness, he exerted himself to
perform the business which each day brought, and he was keenly alive to
everything that went on around him. On the second day he was deeply distressed
by the death of a bargeman, a youth of about twenty, who fell into a deep part
of the river and was drowned before his eyes. "The Pope lay long silent,
with tears in his eyes, praying for the departed.” Later on, he found that the
inhabitants of a village on the right bank of the Tiber had made great
preparations to welcome him as he passed. The barge was then being towed from
the left bank, but the Pope ordered the course to be changed, so that the
people might not be disappointed, or feel that their outlay had been wasted.
Meanwhile letters came from the Archbishop of Crete, telling of the difficulty
of controlling the impatient crowds at Ancona, and begging that some strong man
might be sent with sufficient authority to quell disturbances among the would-
1 Jacobi Card. Pap. Epistolae, Ep. 41. Cf.
also Commentarii, lib. i. pp. 354 seq.
be Crusaders. The
Pope’s thoughts at once flew to Carvajal, who, as Ammanati gratefully recalls,
" loved our Pius above others, and constantly aided him in his holy
enterprise.” It grieved him to impose so heavy a task on an old man, already
worn out in the service of the Church ; but he had no alternative, and Carvajal
promptly responded to the call. " Holy Father,” he said, “ if you consider
me the person most fitted for the work, I will at once obey your command. I
will follow your example, for I know that you are laying down your life for
your flock. You write to me to come, and I am here. You bid me go, and I
depart. I cannot refuse this little end of my life to Christ.” Such
whole-hearted devotion acted like a tonic upon the Pope. He invited Carvajal
and Ammanati to dine with him that evening, and talked of nothing throughout
the meal but of his longing to set sail.
At Otricoli the Pope
exchanged the barge for a litter, and was carried by slow and painful stages up
the Tiber valley. Along that same road he had gone five years before, at the
outset of his Pontificate, full of hope and enthusiasm, on his way to the
Congress of Mantua. Then the journey itself had been a source of delight to
him, and the fair Umbrian cities had never welcomed a more eager sight-seer.
Now he could not endure more than six or seven miles travelling in the day, and
the curtains of his litter were drawn, in order that he might be spared the
sight of the companies of disappointed Crusaders who were already wending their
way back from Ancona. At Temi, trouble befell the faithful Ammanati. He had sat
up late into the night writing for the Pope, clad in the lightest of attire
owing to the great heat. When at last he retired to rest, he was conscious of
being seized by a sudden chill. On the morrow, Pius found that the journey to
Spoleto was beyond his strength, so he settled to pause for the night at a
half-way house, keeping Ammanati with him, while the rest of the company went
on ahead. Ammanati did not wish to distress the Pope, and therefore said
nothing
of his own plight. He
slept uncomplainingly in a draughty tent at his master’s side, and, in
consequence, arrived at Spoleto on the following day in a raging fever. He had
perforce to be left behind, while the Pope went on his way, striking across the
Apennines from Assisi to Fabriano, and thence to Ancona.
On 19 July the weary
pilgrimage was ended, and Pius took up his residence in the episcopal palace,
adjoining the ancient Cathedral of San Ciriaco on Monte Guasco This was at the
northern extremity of Ancona, and the palace commanded a magnificent view of
the sea and harbour. The fair prospect and the refreshing breezes brought some
relief to the Pope, but there was little else to encourage him. His relations
with Ancona had nol been entirely harmonious, and so little did the citizens
appreciate the honour of a Papal visit that they had biers with corpses of
straw carried through the streets, in orde: to give the impression of a
plague-stricken city and t< make the Pope defer his coming.1
Still the Venetian ship: failed to make their appearance, and still bands of
Crusader continued to leave Ancona in disgust, until it seemed a if the tardy
fleet would soon find no troops to transport Pius clung to the possibility of a
Crusade, but, outsid his chamber, the prevailing topic of the hour, was his owi
approaching end, and diplomatists had already begui to write and speak of the
next Conclave.2
Meanwhile, Ammanati
recovered from his fever, am hastened to Ancona, arriving on 25 July, just a
mont'. after he had parted from the Pope at Spoleto. The nigh before his
arrival he had been troubled by a strang dream. It seemed to him that he was
back in Rome at the Vatican : all the doors stood open, there were n guards;
the walls were bare of tapestries, and the bed
1 Chronicon Eugubinum (Muratori, xxi. p. 1007).
2 Cf. Pastor, vol. iii. p. 360, who
mentions a cipher letter on tl subject from the Archbishop of Milan to
Francesco Sforza, dated 31 Ju 1464, Ancona.
PIUS II AT ANCONA
FRESCO BY
PINTORICCHIO Piccolomini Library, Siena
were stripped of
their coverings. After wandering unhindered through the deserted palace,
Ammanati entered the Pope’s own apartment, which stood empty as the rest. In
despair, he sought some one to tell him the meaning of this scene of
desolation, and he came upon a young kinsman of the Pope, the nephew of Goro
Lolli, who told him in faltering tones to seek the Chapel. Here he found the
Cardinals assembled, and everything arranged as for a Conclave. While he stood
speechless with grief, the bitter truth gradually dawning upon him, one of the
company addressed him with mocking words. “ Wherefore do you grieve ? Do you
not know that the death of Pius has broken our bonds, and that we are free ? ”
In the stress of his sorrow, Ammanati awoke to find his face wet with tears.
The news which greeted him at Ancona was sufficiently grave to seem like a
confirmation of his vision. “ What of our Pius, Ambrogio ? ” was his eager
inquiry of the first member of the household whom he met. “ Pavia mine, he
grows weaker and more weary every day,” was the sad reply. “ He is gradually
sinking, and we cannot hope to keep him for a month longer.” Ammanati hastened
to the Pope’s chamber, where Pius was lying on his couch transacting business
with the referendaries. Seeing him again after a month’s absence, it seemed to
Ammanati that all his features had fallen in, and it was as much as the faithful
friend could do to keep a calm face as he bent to kiss his hand. Yet even now
the Pope’s spirit triumphed over his physical strength, and he began to talk
eagerly of the Crusade and its prospects, as if there were no thought of death
coming to prevent his voyage. A few days later, Pius and Carvajal were on fire
to start at once, with what ships they could muster, to the relief of Ragusa.
Ammanati could do nothing to turn the two enthusiasts from their project, until
the news came that the siege was raised, and that the danger was no longer
imminent.
On 12 August the
weary watchers at Ancona learned
at last that the
Venetian fleet was in sight. The Cardinals went in state to meet the Doge,1
and Pius was carried to his window to watch the twelve sumptuously equipped
galleys ride into the harbour. It was a beauteous sight; Ammanati tells us, but
it came too late to be anything but a pageant. That very night Pius took a turn
for the worse, and the next morning he made what proved to be his last
communion. This was on 13 August, two days before the Festival of the
Assumption, a date which must have been associated in Pius's mind with gala
days of his earliest childhood and with many a happy memory of student-life in
Siena. On that day he looked forward to receiving the Blessed Sacrament once
more, in honour of the Virgin, the liege Lady of his Republic, and the object
of his lifelong devotion. Only a week or two before, he had visited the famous
sanctuary at Loreto and had offered a golden chalice upon Our Lady’s altar,
imploring her blessing upon his great endeavour.2 Now he lay dying
as the Festival of her Assumption drew near.
After Vespers on the
Vigil, the Cardinals present at Ancona were summoned to the Pope’s side to
receive his farewell blessing. “ My beloved brethren,” he began, “ my last hour
approaches ; God calls me hence: I die in the Catholic Faith in which I have
lived. Believe me that until this day I have done my utmost for the flock, and
have spared myself neither toil nor danger. I have not the power to finish what
I have begun, the rest must be left to you. Persevere in this work of God, and
do not allow the cause of religion to languish through your negligence. ... Be
mindful of your office, be mindful of your Redeemer, who sees all things and rewards
every man according to his work. . . . Have care also of the
1 Sanudo (Muratori, xxii. p. 1180), who
says that the Cardinal of Pavia and two Bishops came on board the Doge’s galley
to make Pius n’s excuses, saying that he had had a bad night, so could not come
himself. Cf. also Malipiero, p. 30.
2 Cf. Voigt, iii. pp. 717-8, and
Tursellinus, Laureta-nae historiae, lib. ii. ran t
temporalities, and
see that the Patrimony of the Church suffers no harm. . . . Moreover, brethren,
my dealings with you, both as Cardinal and as Pope, have not been without sin.
For my sins against God, may He, the Almighty, have mercy on me; for my
offences against you, beloved, I pray you to forgive me, now at the hour of my
death. My relations and those who have served me, I commend to your care.
Farewell, brethren; may the peace of God be with you.” 1 At first no
one could speak for weeping, and then Bessarion said a few words in the name of
all. Only the Pope’s humility, he said, made him ask their pardon, for he had
always been a kind and indulgent father, and they had no cause of complaint
against him. He had set a noble example to his flock ; his death would be not
only a personal loss to the Cardinals but a blow to Christendom. All knelt in
turn to kiss the Pope’s hand as he blessed them, saying, “ May the God of pity
pardon you.” Then the Cardinals departed, intending to return in the morning
for Mass, which was to be sung in the Pope’s chamber with Ammanati celebrating.
But this " last
farewell,” as Ammanati touchingly calls it, was not to be. “ Everything being
thus prepared for the sacred rite, behold, as the sun sank, Pius too began to
sink.” He received extreme unction, and was left alone with his nephew Andrea,
Ammanati, Goro Lolli, and the three Bishops attached to his household. This
little company of devoted friends stood round his bed, ministering to his last
wants. Presently his eye fell on Ammanati. “ Pray for me, my son,” he
whispered, “ for I am a sinner.” Then, turning towards the crucifix, he began
to sigh out, “ Have mercy upon me, 0 God, have mercy upon me; and thou, most
merciful Virgin, do not fail thy dying servant. For thy Son’s sake, receive my
departing soul.” After an interval, he spoke once more to Ammanati. “ Keep the
continuation of our holy
1 Card.
Pap. Epistolae, Ep. 41, pp. 487-8.
enterprise in the
mind of the brethren, and aid it with all your power. Woe unto you, woe unto
you, if you desert God’s work.” Ammanati struggled to answer through his tears,
whereupon the Pope put his hand on his shoulder saying, “ Do good, my son, and
pray God for me.” These were the last words he spoke. He lay listening to the
commendatory prayers until about three hours after sunset, when “ he
surrendered his spirit to God so peacefully that he seemed to have passed into
sleep and not into death.”
So died Pius n on the
Eve of the Assumption, with his great work unfinished, surrounded by many
ill-wishers and detractors who refused to the last to believe in the sincerity
of his purpose. Yet in the eyes of a few devoted admirers, and of those who
knew him most intimately, his death was the crowning glory of a great career.
They could afford to despise evil tongues and words spoken in hatred, being
content to await the calmer judgment of posterity, which would do justice and
paint the picture as they saw it. For themselves, they rested upon the sure
belief that he who had lived nobly, and died a martyr’s death, was “ in
Abraham’s bosom, tasting heavenly joys with the spirits of the blest.” 1
From the moment of
Pius ii’s death the Crusade was
doomed. There were at most three members of the Sacred College—Bessarion,
Carvajal, and Ammanati—who would have wished to continue the struggle, and
without their leader they were powerless. The rest of the Cardinals were at one
with the Doge of Venice in regarding the Pope’s death as a Heaven-sent release
from difficulties and dangers to which they had been forced to expose
themselves by the misplaced enthusiasm of their chief. For some time past the
Venetians had looked upon Pius with deep-rooted suspicion. In July, peace with
the Turks had actually been debated in the Venetian Senate, on the ground that
the Pope was only awaiting an opportunity of withdrawing
from the Crusade and
leaving Venice to face the infidel single-handed.1 When the fleet
anchored in the harbour at Ancona, common gossip on the Doge’s galley retailed
the Pope’s manifest disappointment on hearing of the arrival of the Venetians.
He had promised to accompany the Doge to the East, it was said, and now that
his companion in arms was actually at Ancona, “ he was very sorry, for it
displeased him to break his promise, and it displeased him still more to go on
the Crusade.” 2 Nothing could be farther from the truth than this
Venetian conception of one whose dying mind was possessed by a single overmastering
passion—the desire to embark forthwith upon his holy enterprise. It is,
however, an instructive illustration of the entire absence of understanding
between Pius n and Venice. Each regarded the other with jealousy and suspicion,
and their mutual relations were such as to ensure the failure of their common
undertaking, if circumstances had allowed them to embark upon it. The excuses
proffered by the Cardinals on behalf of their master first gave the Doge an
inkling of the Pope’s true condition. Suspicious to the last, he determined to
investigate on his own account, and he sent his doctor to make private
inquiries from the Papal physicians. The doctor’s opinion, on his return to the
Venetian galleys, was that the Pope was dying.3 It was with
heart-felt relief that the Doge learned, next day, that this prediction was
confirmed, and that Pius n had breathed his last.
Interminable delay
marked the proceedings which brought the unwilling Crusaders to Ancona ; the
preparations for departure, on the other hand, were equally remarkable for
their rapidity. The contrast between the outward and the homeward journey goes
far to prove that Pius ii himself
was the sole vital force of the crusading movement. During the festival of the
Assumption the Pope’s body lay in the Cathedral of S. Ciriaco. On that day the
Doge came to pay his tribute of respect to the departed, and immediately
afterwards he had a conference with the Cardinals on the subject of the
Crusade. From the report of the Milanese ambassador, we learn that the Doge’s
demands were “ most difficult and arduous, and impossible to the College,” and
the general impression which he gave was that the Venetians were heartily sick
of the whole enterprise.1 The upshot of the conference was that the
Cardinals decided to hand over their galleys to the Doge, for use against the
Turk, and to transmit the money collected for the Crusade through him to the
King of Hungary. Thus 40,000 ducats and five galleys were placed in the Doge’s
charge, the latter with the proviso that they should be returned to the
Cardinals if the new Pope decided to go on a Crusade.2 On 17 August
Pius n’s heart was buried in the choir of S. Ciriaco, where a marble slab now
marks the spot, and his body set out along the road to Rome which he had
traversed so painfully only a few weeks before. On the following evening the
Doge sailed for Venice,3 while the Cardinals hastened to Rome in
order to be ready for the Conclave. The proceedings on this occasion were
remarkable for their dispatch. When the result of the first scrutiny was made
known, it was found that the Venetian, Cardinal Barbo, had been elected Pope.
The news was received with unparalleled rejoicing in Venice. “ God, who does
not abandon those who trust in Him, has shown His power,” commented Malipiero.
"Pope Pius having brought this city into manifest peril, He has caused him
to die, and has willed that Pope Paul n should be chosen in his place.” So ended the last attempt at a common
enterprise against the Turk on the part of the Christian powers. Pius n’s
abortive expedition proved that the era of Crusades had vanished, never to
return.
Henceforth the battle
against Islam was waged by two powers alone. Hungary fought for her very
existence on the eastern frontiers of Europe. Venice continued to struggle and
to bargain with her chief maritime and commercial rival in the Mediterranean.
The body of Pius II
was laid to rest in S. Peter’s, in the Chapel of S. Andrew, and a monument was
erected to his memory by Cardinal Piccolomini. “ It cost me three thousand
ducats,” the Cardinal wrote some years later, “ not including the provision for
masses and anniversary celebrations during the last thirty-five years.” 1
He also made arrangements for his own burial “ at the feet of his sainted
uncle,” and composed an inscription for his tomb. Here uncle and nephew slept
undisturbed until, in 1610, the Chapel of S. Andrew was destroyed by Paul v to
make room for his own building in S. Peter’s. A new resting- place had
therefore to be found for the Piccolomini Popes, and none could have been more
appropriate than that which offered itself in the Church of S. Andrea della
Valle. The Theatine church and convent of S. Andrea della Valle had been
founded only twenty years earlier on the site of the Piccolomini palace in
Rome. The Palazzo di Siena, as it was popularly called, had been built in the
most sumptuous style by Cardinal Piccolomini between the years 1460 and 1472.2
It had since been the headquarters of the Piccolomini family in Rome, and in
1582 it had passed into the possession of Costanza, the widowed Duchess of
Amalfi, descended through her father from Pius ii’s
nephew Antonio, and through her mother Silvia from the younger nephew
Andrea.3 Costanza was the last of her line. The Duchy of Amalfi had
already passed into other hands, and in 1610 she herself died in a convent at
Naples. On the death of her mother Silvia, in 1482, she made over her palace in
Rome to the Theatines, on condition that they “ should not cease to pray for
us, and for the soul of our departed mother." 1 In 1491 the
first stone of S. Andrea was laid, but the work had not long been completed
when Cardinal Alessandro Peretti, the nephew of Sixtus v, determined to build “
a larger and more splendid church ” than that which already existed. The
architect Maderno was charged with the task, and he was at work on the present
Church of S. Andrea from 1601 until his death in 1629.2 Thus it was
under his auspices and those of Cardinal Peretti that the remains of Pius 11
and his nephew were transferred to their last home. In 1614, the two monuments,
“restored and embellished” by Cardinal Peretti, were fixed in their present
place. The bodies, however, were not moved until nine years later. They remained
during the interval in the ancient sarcophagi which can still be seen in the
Vatican Crypts.3 Owing to the delay in transferring the bodies, the
idea gained credence that this was never done, and that the monuments in S.
Andrea were only empty shells. The testimony of a manuscript diary, preserved
among the Theatine Archives, leaves no doubt as to the actual course of events.
This relates that “ on 6 January 1623, with the consent of Pope Gregory xv, the
bodies of Pius 11 and Pius ill were translated from S. Peter’s to our Church
of S. Andrea, two hours after sunset, quietly and without ceremony.” “ I,
Giuseppe Beati,” adds the diarist, “ saw them with my own eyes, and touched
with my hands the clothes, the bones, the mitre, and the gloves.” 4
The two monuments,
which face each other over corresponding arches in the nave of S. Andrea della
Valle, have suffered from the vicissitudes of their history. Owing to Peretti’s
additions and to their uncomfortably high position on the walls of Maderno’s
church, they do not breathe the
TOMB OF PIUS II
S. ANDREA DELLA
VALLE, ROME
spirit of Pius 11. The elaborate design, the long inscriptions, and the six virtues set in niches outside the principal reliefs form too ornate a memorial for one nurtured in the simple artistic ideals of the early Renaissance. Nevertheless, the reliefs themselves are such as he would have appreciated. In the centre of the first relief the Madonna sits enthroned. On one side Aeneas kneels in Cardinal’s robes, and S. Paul smiles kindly upon him, as if recognising that he too had erred in early life and afterwards repented of his errors. On the opposite side S. Peter presents the Papal keys to Pius 11. Below this group is the urn containing the body, surmounted by an effigy of the Pope, and below again is a representation of the entry of S. Andrew’s head into Rome, the event of his Pontificate which Pius himself would most desire to commemorate. The inscription which follows summarises the events of his six years’ reign : “ He held a Congress at Mantua for the defence of the faith. He resisted the enemies of the Papacy within and without Italy. He numbered Catherine of Siena among Christ’s saints. He annulled the Pragmatic Sanction in France. He restored Ferdinand of Aragon to the kingdom of Sicily. He raised the estate of the Church. He instituted alum works at Tolfa. A lover of justice and religion, most admirable in eloquence, he made ready a fleet and enjoined the Doge of Venice and his Senate to be his fellow-warriors for Christ in the Turkish war. He died at Ancona, and was brought back to Rome and buried in S. Peter’s, in the place where he had enshrined the head of S. Andrew the Apostle when it came to him from Peloponnesus.”
Such, in brief, is
the history of Pius ii’s Pontificate; and, as the record of one man’s
achievement during six short years, it is by no means to be despised.
Nevertheless, it was very soon recognised that his claim to greatness did not
rest upon his work as Pope alone. During the century and a half which
followed his death, the numerou: printed editions of his writings which made
their appear ance in all parts of Europe testify to the growth of hi: literary
reputation. It is one of the ironies of fortune tha Germany, which had failed
to appreciate Aeneas while hi was attached to the Imperial Court, should have
been fore most in recognising his merits as a man of letters. Thi: was partly
due to what may be described as a commercia instinct. The Germans despised Aeneas’s
devotion to the classics for their own sake, but when they saw that the
cult of poets and orators led to the throne of S. Peter they began to realise
that such studies were more valuabli than they had supposed. Yet it was also
due to rea literary development. /Eneas had planted humanisn upon German soil,
and in the next generation his worl bore fruit. “ The German nation owes much
to you Through your teaching and example you have introduce* her to the ancient
glory of Roman eloquence and ti humanist studies. In these she will increase
from day ti day.” So spoke Aeneas’s old friend, Johann Hinderbact
when he came to render the obedience of Germany to Pius I in 1459. He did not
do more than justice to /Eneas’ influence upon German letters. In 1466 this same
Hinder bach introduced Aeneas’s treatise on Education to th Empress Leonora,
for the benefit of her young son Maxi milian. In this brilliant prince the
ideals of humanisr which had been propagated by Aneas were fully realised
future generations have recognised in him the flower of Renaissance culture in
Germany.
The German nations
have, from the first, accomplishe the lion’s share of the work of collecting,
printing, an editing the writings of Aeneas Silvius. The earliest attemp at a
collected edition of his works appeared in Basel in 1551, under the somewhat
misleading title, Opera qua extant omnia. From that day the labours of German scholars
have constantly brought fresh material to light, and we still await the later volumes
of Dr. Wolkan’s monumental edition of /Eneas’s letters. Yet it was not only in
Germany that our hero’s books were read and circulated. The list of books
printed by the first Paris Press in the Sorbonne between 1470 and 1472 includes
two volumes by Aeneas Silvius. Tudor England delighted in The most
excellent Historie of Euryalus and Lucresia, and in 1570 one Alexander Barclay
published Certayne Egloges gathered out of a booke named in Latin Miseriae Curialium, compiled by
/Eneas Silvius, Poet and Orator.
It has been
unfortunate for Aeneas’s literary reputation that the printed editions of the
Commentaries give the name of the German scribe, Gobellinus, as the author of
this his greatest work. These editions, moreover, have suffered at
the hands of an expurgator whose sense of propriety was considerably more
developed than his literary instinct. The Commentaries, like their author, have
had a chequered career, and it is only of comparatively recent years that it
has been possible to unravel the tangled threads of their history. Apart from
the overwhelming weight of internal evidence, both Campano and Platina testify
to the fact that Pius 11 was the true author of the Commentaries. Campano not
only knew of their existence, but the Pope had actually given him the
manuscript to read and correct. On reading them, he found them altogether too
admirable for him to profane by the touch of an alien hand. “ He gave them me
to correct, but I did not correct them,” Campano wrote to Ammanati. In 1883 Dr. Pastor discovered a manuscript in the Vatican which is without
doubt the original of the Commentaries, written partly by the Pope himself,
partly by others at his dictation. This was apparently the
manuscript which he gave to Campano for revision, and afterwards ordered his
scribe Gobellinus to copy. Gobellinus finished his task on 12 June 1464, and
affixed his name to his handiwork after the common practice of copyists. Yet the fact that Gobellinus’s copy varies from the original in minor details
only, shows that both friend and scribe played their part faithfully. They did
nothing to spoil the essential character of the Pope’s work. It seems almost
certain that the over-zealous editor was Francesco Bandini-Piccolomini,
Archbishop of Siena, under whose auspices the Commentaries were first published
in 1584. We learn from the Archbishop’s preface that he received a copy of the
Commentaries, together with many other valuable manuscripts, as a bequest from
his uncle, Cardinal Giovanni Piccolomini. He describes them as “ a history of
the times of Pope Pius II . . . related in the form of commentaries by one
Johannes Gobellinus, a servant of the said Pius II.” He had read the manuscript
again and again in his younger days, and he considered “ much, if not all of
it, worthy not only of commendation but of admiration.” His own appreciation of
the work, coupled with the fact that spurious fragments “ containing various
errors ” were being circulated at the time, made him determine to present the
book to the world in its genuine form, “ adorned with its own splendour.” It is
clear that the Archbishop would have us believe both that Gobellinus was the
author of the Commentaries and that this published edition was a faithful
rendering of the manuscript in his possession. Yet it is difficult to imagine
that he was deceived as to the real author of the book, or that the manuscript,
which he was at pains to describe as most trustworthy, was any other than
Gobellinus’s original copy. The most obvious conclusion is that the
Archbishop deliberately omitted such passages of the original as seemed to him
unedifying, and that even when this was done, he did not consider the book
sufficiently decorous to be published under the name of his Papal relative. To
one bred in the atmosphere of the CounterReformation, Pius xi’s outspoken
criticisms of persons and events, and the unedifying scenes in the Sacred
College which he pictures, must have seemed wholly unsuitable for publication. Moreover, the essentially unecclesiastical tone of the Commentaries accorded
ill with the prevailing conception of Papal dignity. Thus it is easy to
understand the Archbishop’s point of view, although it is less easy to forgive
him. The confusion with Gobellinus, and the knowledge that an editor’s hand has
been at work, have created an impression of uncertainty with regard to the
Commentaries which has proved curiously tenacious. It has cast an unwarrantable
slur upon the reputation of a great book.
His own age judged
Pius 11 mainly by his work as a statesman; the achievements of his Pontificate
formed the criterion of his greatness in contemporary eyes. Later generations,
justly regarding him as first of all a man of letters, based their judgment
principally upon his literary work. Yet the permanent importance of Pius xi is not
due to achievement in any sphere, it is rather the outcome of his personality.
We remembei him less for what he did, or for what he wrote, than foi what he
was. Both in theory and in practice he is the complete humanist. In him we have
the fullest illustration of the ideals of humanism, as conceived by the
scholars, and as realised in active life. His sympathies and his aversions, his
virtues and his vices, his weakness and his power, are all typical of humanism.
Thus the study of his career gives us a unique insight into the ideals of the
Renaissance world. His failure and his success help us to estimate the value of
humanism as a contribution to civilisation, as a phase in the intellectual and
spiritual development of the European nations.
The history of tineas
Silvius is from first to last a character-study; and when the story has been
told to the end, he still remains something of an enigma. Of all the great
historians who have written about him, no two have come to the same conclusion.
Yet his was not really a profound or complex nature. Perhaps the most distinguishing
feature of his character was the quality oi youthfulness. Vanity, egoism,
restlessness, passion, prejudice, these are some of the vices of youth, and
Pius even after the rejection of ZEneas, was guilty of every one of them. On
the other hand, he has his full share of the virtues of youth. To his dying day
he retained his enthusiasm, his energy, his strong affections, his delighi in
simple pleasures, and his love of beauty. His bod} grew old before its time,
but he was always young ii spirit, and in this he showed himself a true child
of the Renaissance.
From the outset of
his career his general attitud< towards life was that of the humanist. He
looked upoi the world as a field for his conquests, and he set out ii life with
the determination to capture the world by th simple means of adapting himself
to its requirements Humanism insisted that eloquence, tact, courtesy, an(
knowledge of his fellows were the all-important qualitis
Nevertheless, in
looking back upon his history, the prevailing impression which we gather is
that of the limitations of humanism as a guide to life. As a man of letters, he
suffered from a humanist’s exaggerated devotion to the classics. If he had been
willing to write in Italian, instead of imprisoning his talent within the
fetters of a dead language, his contribution to literature would have been
immeasurably greater. More than this, the ideals of humanism were not high enough
to grapple with the problems of his Pontificate. It was not that he lacked an
ideal for the Papacy. He strove persistently to raise its prestige and to make
it once more a living force in Europe. He had the wisdom and the imagination to
embrace a crusading policy as the true means of attaining his end.
Nevertheless, he failed; and although it may be argued that the conditions of
the age were more than enough to account for his failure, it must be remembered
that he himself was a child of the age. In order to realise his ideal of the
Papacy, it was not enough to adapt himself to the world, it was necessary to
defy the world. A Pope who could have reformed the Curia, and marshalled the
forces of Europe against the Turk in the fifteenth century,