Father Paul, whose name, before he entered into the monastick life,
was Peter Sarpi, was born at Venice, August 14, 1552. His father
followed merchandise, but with so little success, that, at his death,
he left his family very ill provided for; but under the care of a
mother, whose piety was likely to bring the blessings of providence
upon them, and whose wise conduct supplied the want of fortune by
advantages of greater value.
Happily for young Sarpi, she had a brother, master of a celebrated
school, under whose direction he was placed by her. Here he lost no
time; but cultivated his abilities, naturally of the first rate, with
unwearied application. He was born for study, having a natural
aversion to pleasure and gaiety, and a memory so tenacious, that he
could repeat thirty verses upon once hearing them.
Proportionable to his capacity was his progress in literature: at
thirteen, having made himself master of school-learning, he turned his
studies to philosophy and the mathematicks; and entered upon logick,
under Capella, of Cremona; who, though a celebrated master of that
science, confessed himself, in a very little time, unable to give his
pupil further instructions.
As Capella was of the order of the Servites, his scholar was induced,
by his acquaintance with him, to engage in the same profession, though
his uncle and his mother represented to him the hardships and
austerities of that kind of life, and advised him, with great zeal,
against it.
But he was steady in his resolutions, and, in 1566, took the habit of
the order, being then only in his fourteenth year, a time of life, in
most persons, very improper for such engagements; but, in him,
attended with such maturity of thought, and such a settled temper,
that he never seemed to regret the choice he then made, and which he
confirmed by a solemn publick profession, in 1572.
At a general chapter of the Servites, held at Mantua, Paul, for so we
shall now call him, being then only twenty years old, distinguished
himself so much, in a publick disputation, by his genius and learning,
that William, duke of Mantua, a great patron of letters, solicited the
consent of his superiours to retain him at his court; and not only
made him publick professor of divinity in the cathedral, but honoured
him with many proofs of his esteem.
But father Paul, finding a court life not agreeable to his temper,
quitted it two years afterwards, and retired to his beloved privacies,
being then not only acquainted with the Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and
Chaldee languages, but with philosophy, the mathematicks, canon and
civil law, all parts of natural philosophy, and chymistry itself; for
his application was unremitted, his head clear, his apprehension
quick, and his memory retentive.
Being made a priest, at twenty-two, he was distinguished by the
illustrious cardinal Borromeo with his confidence, and employed by
him, on many occasions, not without the envy of persons of less merit,
who were so far exasperated as to lay a charge against him, before the
inquisition, for denying that the trinity could be proved from the
first chapter of Genesis; but the accusation was too ridiculous to be
taken notice of.
After this, he passed successively through the dignities of his order,
and, in the intervals of his employment, applied himself to his
studies with so extensive a capacity, as left no branch of knowledge
untouched. By him Acquapendente, the great anatomist, confesses, that
he was informed how vision is performed; and there are proofs, that he
was not a stranger to the circulation of the blood.
He frequently conversed upon astronomy with mathematicians; upon
anatomy with surgeons; upon medicine with physicians; and with
chymists upon the analysis of metals, not as a superficial inquirer,
but as a complete master.
But the hours of repose, that he employed so well, were interrupted by
a new information in the inquisition, where a former acquaintance
produced a letter, written by him, in ciphers, in which he said, "that
he detested the court of Rome, and that no preferment was obtained
there, but by dishonest means." This accusation, however dangerous,
was passed over, on account of his great reputation, but made such
impression on that court, that he was afterward denied a bishoprick by
Clement the eighth. After these difficulties were surmounted, father
Paul again retired to his solitude, where he appears, by some writings
drawn up by him at that time, to have turned his attention more to
improvements in piety than learning. Such was the care with which he
read the scriptures, that, it being his custom to draw a line under
any passage which he intended more nicely to consider, there was not a
single word in his New Testament but was underlined; the same marks of
attention appeared in his Old Testament, Psalter, and Breviary.
But the most active scene of his life began about the year 1615, when
pope Paul the fifth, exasperated by some decrees of the senate of
Venice, that interfered with the pretended rights of the church, laid
the whole state under an interdict.
The senate, filled with indignation at this treatment, forbade the
bishops to receive or publish the pope's bull; and, convening the
rectors of the churches, commanded them to celebrate divine service in
the accustomed manner, with which most of them readily complied; but
the jesuits, and some others, refusing, were, by a solemn edict,
expelled the state.
Both parties having proceeded to extremities, employed their ablest
writers to defend their measures: on the pope's side, among others,
cardinal Bellarmine entered the lists, and, with his confederate
authors, defended the papal claims, with great scurrility of
expression, and very sophistical reasonings, which were confuted by
the Venetian apologists, in much more decent language, and with much
greater solidity of argument.
On this occasion father Paul was most eminently distinguished, by his
Defence of the Rights of the Supreme Magistrate; his treatise of
Excommunications, translated from Gerson, with an Apology, and other
writings, for which he was cited before the inquisition at Rome; but
it may be easily imagined that he did not obey the summons.
The Venetian writers, whatever might be the abilities of their
adversaries, were, at least, superiour to them in the justice of their
cause. The propositions maintained on the side of Rome were these:
that the pope is invested with all the authority of heaven and earth:
that all princes are his vassals, and that he may annul their laws at
pleasure: that kings may appeal to him, as he is temporal monarch of
the whole earth: that he can discharge subjects from their oaths of
allegiance, and make it their duty to take up arms against their
sovereign: that he may depose kings without any fault committed by
them, if the good of the church requires it: that the clergy are
exempt from all tribute to kings, and are not accountable to them,
even in cases of high treason: that the pope cannot err; that his
decisions are to be received and obeyed on pain of sin, though all the
world should judge them to be false; that the pope is God upon earth;
that his sentence and that of God are the same; and that to call his
power in question, is to call in question the power of God; maxims
equally shocking, weak, pernicious, and absurd; which did not require
the abilities or learning of father Paul, to demonstrate their
falsehood, and destructive tendency.
It may be easily imagined, that such principles were quickly
overthrown, and that no court, but that of Rome, thought it for its
interest to favour them. The pope, therefore, finding his authors
confuted, and his cause abandoned, was willing to conclude the affair
by treaty, which, by the mediation of Henry the fourth of France, was
accommodated upon terms very much to the honour of the Venetians.
But the defenders of the Venetian rights were, though comprehended in
the treaty, excluded by the Romans from the benefit of it; some, upon
different pretences, were imprisoned, some sent to the galleys, and
all debarred from preferment. But their malice was chiefly aimed
against father Paul, who soon found the effects of it; for, as he was
going one night to his convent, about six months after the
accommodation, he was attacked by five ruffians, armed with
stilettoes, who gave him no less than fifteen stabs, three of which
wounded him in such a manner, that he was left for dead. The murderers
fled for refuge to the nuncio, and were afterwards received into the
pope's dominions, but were pursued by divine justice, and all, except
one man who died in prison, perished by violent deaths.
This and other attempts upon his life, obliged him to confine himself
to his convent, where he engaged in writing the history of the council
of Trent, a work unequalled for the judicious disposition of the
matter, and artful texture of the narration, commended by Dr. Burnet,
as the completest model of historical writing, and celebrated by Mr.
Wotton, as equivalent to any production of antiquity; in which the
reader finds "liberty without licentiousness, piety without hypocrisy,
freedom of speech without neglect of decency, severity without rigour,
and extensive learning without ostentation."
In this and other works of less consequence, he spent the remaining
part of his life, to the beginning of the year 1622, when he was
seized with a cold and fever, which he neglected, till it became
incurable. He languished more than twelve months, which he spent
almost wholly in a preparation for his passage into eternity; and,
among his prayers and aspirations, was often heard to repeat, "Lord!
now let thy servant depart in peace."
On Sunday, the eighth of January of the next year, he rose, weak as he
was, to mass, and went to take his repast with the rest; but, on
Monday, was seized with a weakness that threatened immediate death;
and, on Thursday, prepared for his change, by receiving the viaticum
with such marks of devotion, as equally melted and edified the
beholders.
Through the whole course of his illness, to the last hour of his life,
he was consulted by the senate in publick affairs, and returned
answers, in his greatest weakness, with such presence of mind, as
could only arise from the consciousness of innocence.
On Sunday, the day of his death, he had the passion of our blessed
saviour read to him out of St. John's gospel, as on every other day of
that week, and spoke of the mercy of his redeemer, and his confidence
in his merits.
As his end evidently approached, the brethren of the convent came to
pronounce the last prayers, with which he could only join in his
thoughts, being able to pronounce no more than these words, "Esto
perpetua," mayst thou last for ever; which was understood to be a
prayer for the prosperity of his country.
Thus died father Paul, in the seventy-first year of his age; hated by
the Romans, as their most formidable enemy, and honoured by all the
learned for his abilities, and by the good for his integrity. His
detestation of the corruption of the Roman church appears in all his
writings, but particularly in this memorable passage of one of his
letters: "There is nothing more essential than to ruin the reputation
of the jesuits; by the ruin of the jesuits, Rome will be ruined; and
if Rome is ruined, religion will reform of itself."
He appears, by many passages of his life, to have had a high esteem of
the church of England; and his friend, father Fulgentio, who had
adopted all his notions, made no scruple of administering to Dr.
Duncomb, an English gentleman that fell sick at Venice, the communion
in both kinds, according to the Common Prayer, which he had with him
in Italian.
He was buried with great pomp, at the publick charge, and a
magnificent monument was erected, to his memory.