THE PAPAL MONARCHY (1471-1527)
The Papacy found itself in an exceedingly difficult situation. It had to
adapt an ecclesiastical system, matured in the Middle Ages, to new
political systems, to new knowledge, to new thought, in short, to a new
world. During its struggle with the Empire, the course before it,
however arduous, had been plain, namely, to abase the Emperors; during
its captivity at Avignon, its duty to return to Rome (though individual
Popes were blind or indifferent) likewise had been plain; during the
schism, the one end to be aimed at was union. But now everything was
new, and a new policy had to be devised. There were three matters which
required particular consideration: the demand for reform which came from
across the Alps; the great intellectual awakening of the Renaissance;
and the ambitions of the other Italian powers. For these problems the
solution which the Papacy tried was twofold: to establish a firm
pontifical principality, and to use the new intellectual forces as a
motive power to keep itself at the head of Christendom. By a strong
pontifical principality the Papacy hoped to secure itself against the
covetousness of the other Italian states. By using the new intellectual
forces it hoped to range them on its side, and so to choke, or at least
to overcrow, the ultramontane cry for reform. One need not suppose that
such a plan was consciously thought out in detail from the beginning;
rather it was the course which the Papacy gradually took, partly from
theory, partly under the stress of passing circumstances.
We remember that the Council of Constance closed the Great Schism, and
sent Martin V (1417-31) back to Rome as sole Pope. His pontificate marks
the end of the old Republican commune, which had made so much trouble
for Popes and Emperors in days past, and therefore marks the first
definite stage in the transformation of the Papacy into a local secular
power. Rome, although she did not deny herself an occasional outbreak in
memory, as it were, of good old days, settled down into a papal city.
The most interesting part of the papal story is the process that went on
within the Church. The intolerable burden of ecclesiastical taxation,
the growth of heresy, and the degeneration of the clergy, as well as the
Great Schism, had roused Europe to a sense that something must be done,
and Europe attempted the old remedy of Ecumenical Councils. At Constance
the question of general reform had come up, but the papal party had
managed to prevent action. At the next Council, held at Basel, internal
difficulties appeared still more plainly. Party lines were sharply
drawn; the ultramontanes, as before, wished to subject the Popes to the
supremacy of Councils, to substitute an ecclesiastical aristocracy of
bishops in place of a papal monarchy, and, as it were, transfer the
centre of ecclesiastical gravity from Rome across the Alps. Feeling ran
so high that the Council split in two. Part followed the Pope to Italy,
and part stayed in Basel and elected an anti-pope (1439). It looked as
if schism had come again, but the danger passed. The anti-pope resigned;
unity was restored and lasted for seventy years.
Nicholas V, as we have seen, hoped to maintain the Papacy at the head of
Christendom by means of the new intellectual forces. Such a conception
was purely Italian, and showed plainly enough that the Papacy had ceased
to represent Christendom, had ceased to be the real head of a Universal
Church, and had become a purely Italian institution. While Nicholas and
his successors were thinking of culture and of becoming Italian princes,
the pious ultramontanes, comparatively indifferent to the intellectual
excitement of the Renaissance, were thinking of sin and of the remedy
for sin. The papal Curia was clever, but did not foresee that to
subordinate the old conception of the Papacy as the head of the
religious and ecclesiastical organization of Europe to the new
conception of it as an Italian principality would surely alienate the
Teutonic peoples; it did not foresee that the Renaissance, with its
spirit of examination, investigation, criticism, with its encouragement
of the free play of the human mind, was necessarily preparing the way
for the Reformation. But the Curia perceived the opposite difficulties,
to which we are generally blind, that unless the Papacy did establish
itself as a temporal power, it might well be reduced to another
Babylonish Captivity by a king of Naples, a duke of Milan, or even by
some _condottiere_. And it perceived that other difficulty as well,
that if the Papacy turned against the intellectual movement, the
intellectual movement would, in self-defence, turn against the Papacy.
The Popes did indeed seek to revive the old role of the Papacy in one
respect. They tried to arouse the sentiment of Christendom against the
invading Turks, and to lead a crusade themselves. But the time for such
a course had passed. The kings and princes of Europe were busy with
their own kingdoms and principalities and would not budge; and the
Papacy was obliged to give up the plan. Discouraged by this failure it
naturally turned to the new theory of a little papal kingdom and
vigorously put the theory into practice. The three Popes who
accomplished this task were Francesco della Rovere, Sixtus IV (1471-84),
Rodrigo Borgia, Alexander VI (1493-1503), and Giuliano della Rovere,
Julius II (1503-13). Their careers must be looked at more closely.
Sixtus IV was the son of a peasant. Educated by the Franciscans, he
became distinguished as a scholar in theology, philosophy, and
ecclesiastical affairs, and was chosen general of the order. When Pope,
after a last futile attempt to start a crusade, Sixtus openly abandoned
the role of Pontiff of Christendom and became an Italian prince.
Energetic and masterful, he set to work to consolidate the loose and
insubordinate papal territories into a compact state. The task was not
easy, and one of the obstacles in his way was lack of men whom he could
trust. It was of little advantage to gather together an army, or to
capture a city, if the papal general or governor found his own
interests opposed to papal interests. Loyalty was held in scant esteem
by Italians of the Renaissance. Sixtus met the difficulty by employing
his nephews. This policy was by no means the beginning of papal
nepotism, but these nephews happened to be young men with marked tastes
for greed, ferocity, and dissipation, and brought the system into
especial notoriety. To one nephew the Pope gave a cardinal's hat, four
bishoprics, an abbey, a patriarchate, as well as free access to the
papal treasury. When this young man had died of dissipation, the post of
chief favourite descended to his brother. For him the Pope procured a
wife from the ducal house of Sforza, and began to carve a dukedom in
Romagna, with the intention of adding slices cut from the neighbouring
states. This young man was arrogant, ignorant, and brutal, with no
interests except ambition and the chase. In due course he was murdered.
Whatever effect nepotism of this character produced across the Alps, it
served certain purposes in Italy. Sixtus made himself feared, and
advanced the project of a papal kingdom to a point where his successors
were able to take it up and complete it.
Sixtus also pursued Nicholas's plan of making Rome the first city of the
world in art and magnificence. He brought together architects and
artists, and patronized art and literature. But this aspect of the plan
to maintain the Papacy at the head of Christian Europe belongs rather to
the story of the high Renaissance, and must be postponed to the next
chapter.
We may pass over the next Pope, who was not distinguished except for a
frank recognition of his illegitimate children, and for what then
appeared a whimsical desire to maintain peace, and proceed to the
notorious Rodrigo Borgia, Alexander VI. It was in Borgia's pontificate
that the French invasion of 1494 took place. This introduction of a new
and terrible element into Italian politics frightened him as well as
other Italian rulers, for he knew that the Papal State would never be
strong enough to resist single-handed such an army as that of Charles
VIII, and he tried to form a union of the Italian powers for common
defence. His policy met little success, especially as he himself, seeing
advantages to be gained from a French alliance, whirled about, granted
to the French king a dispensation for divorce, to the French favourite a
cardinal's hat, and made a separate treaty for himself (1499). Borgia
did no more than any other Italian prince would have done, but he must
bear his share of the responsibility. It was a deliberate sacrifice of
Italian for papal interests. Whether that was justifiable or not is
another matter. The Pope wished to establish a Pontifical State, and
acted in the manner which he thought would be most likely to achieve
success.
Borgia also followed the example set by Sixtus, and raised his family to
power and rank, partly, of course, from affection, but partly in order
to strengthen the Papacy. His task was to reduce the papal vassals in
the Pontifical States to obedience and so to create a strong central
government. The instrument he employed was his son Caesar Borgia. This
brilliant young man has won a great reputation, owing in large measure
to Machiavelli's admiration. He was an athletic, handsome, taciturn man,
quick, cunning, and cruel. He began his career in the Church, but at the
time of his father's reconciliation with France, gave up his cardinal's
hat, and was created duke by the French king. Caesar made an excellent
instrument for rooting out the disobedient vassals of the Papal State.
They were crafty, greedy, and false; he was craftier, greedier, and
falser than they. He dispossessed them with ruthless vigour, and
established himself in their stead. His energy and success were
extraordinary, and frightened other Italian rulers. None knew how far
his ambition might stretch, or how far the Papacy might be able to push
him. The direct military power of the Pontifical State was not very
great and could readily be measured, but the indirect power of the
Papacy as head of the Christian Church was vague and alarming.
Nevertheless, Caesar's principality, which rested wholly on the Papacy,
fell to pieces when his father died.
Borgia's attitude towards the arts belongs to the next chapter; but in
respect to them as well as to the Pontifical State, he followed what I
have called the twofold policy of the Popes of the Renaissance. That
policy undoubtedly had its advantages; but it also had its
disadvantages, and these appear more conspicuous in Borgia's pontificate
than in any other. The establishment of papal dominion, as we have seen,
encouraged, if it did not necessitate, nepotism; and nepotism involved
prodigality and dissipation. The Popes used their families to
strengthen their position; and the upstart families, giddy with sudden
wealth and power, misbehaved. The nephews of Sixtus rendered some
service to the Papacy, but they caused scandal. Caesar Borgia rendered
greater services, and caused still greater scandal. The other branch of
the twofold policy, by a different path, led to the same result.
Patronage of arts and letters involved great expense and encouraged
luxurious tastes; luxury led to idleness, and idleness to vice. The
Roman atmosphere had never been favourable to spiritual life, and now,
surcharged with the classical spirit of the Renaissance, practically
extinguished religion.
For centuries the Roman Curia had been a butt for the arrows of satire.
The minnesingers of Germany, the troubadours of Provence, had paused in
their amorous ditties to compose bitter gibes against the greed and
luxurious life of the great Roman prelates. Taunts such as this became
household phrases: Curia Romana non quaerit ovem sine lana.[19] Dante
had put priest, prelate, and Pope into hell. Petrarch had written
scathing verses:--
Nest of treachery, wherein is hatched
All evil that besets the world to-day,
Slaves to wine, debauch, and gluttony,
* * * * *
Well-head of woe, and baiting place of wrath,
School of false thought, temple of heresy, etc.
One of the best tales in the "Decameron" turns on the conversion of a
Jew, who goes to Rome, sees the conduct of Pope and cardinals, and
becomes convinced that only a Divine Church can support so staggering a
burden. In Borgia's time the Curia outdid itself, and Borgia led the
way. He acknowledged his children, and lavished papal revenues upon
them; he bestowed a cardinal's hat on Alexander Farnese, founder of the
Farnese family, for the sake of Giulia Farnese, his frail sister; he
sanctioned ballets and theatricals of a scandalous nature in the Vatican
palace, and encouraged his sons and his cardinals in a dissolute life.
Vice was not all; the odour of crime infected the air. The Pope's son,
the Duke of Gandia, was murdered, so was his son-in-law, husband of his
daughter Lucrezia. Cardinals died mysteriously. The common voice,
whispering low in Rome and loud elsewhere, ascribed these murders to
Caesar Borgia. It appeared as if the Pope believed the charges himself.
"Caesar," he said, "is a good-natured man, but he cannot tolerate
affronts." Lucrezia, too, became the object of the grossest slanders. No
doubt common gossip then, as always, raised a tree of falsehood from a
mustard grain of truth; but credulity accepted every accusation as true.
North of the Alps the simple-minded Germans shuddered and crossed
themselves. Even the Romans were shocked. When the Pope died, no man
would touch his body; it was dragged by a rope fastened to its foot from
the bed to the grave, and there tumbled in. No one doubted that his soul
had gone to hell.
Alexander VI violated every rule of domestic morality; nevertheless,
Pope Julius II (1503-13) violated the sacred character of priest as
fundamentally, though in a much less repulsive way. Julius, a nephew of
Sixtus IV, was a fiery soldier, a high-aspiring prince, a man of great
qualities, impatient and magnificent. Had he been duke of Milan or King
of Naples, he would have presented a noble figure; but a Pope armed
cap-a-pie, entering a conquered city through the breach battered by his
cannon, was as clear a defiance of the evangelical spirit of the
reformers as the private profligacy of Pope Borgia.
Julius pursued the twofold policy of the Papacy with greater zeal and
greater success than any of his predecessors. His furious energy
completed the work of making the incohesive states of the Church into a
compact principality; and he is the real founder of the absolute Papal
State, the first real Pope-king. He achieved equal success in the other
branch of the policy, and revelled in the kindred spirit of the High
Renaissance. Julius exalted Rome to the place of first city in the
world; and if the world had asked for art from the Papacy instead of
asking for religion, it would have been abundantly satisfied. But
Germany was thinking of sin, of vice, of simony, of taxation, and was
becoming conscious of an extreme national antipathy to Italian rule; and
when a young German monk, like Martin Luther, went to Rome, instead of
taking pleasure in the architecture, painting, and sculpture that
adorned the city, he was horrified at the lack of religion.
Julius, however, was entitled to a sense of accomplishment at his death.
He left to his successors a little kingdom in the middle of Italy, and
he had made Rome the centre of the arts. Not till the days of his
successors did the failure of that policy appear. By a kind of poetic
justice the utter failure of art to satisfy the demand for reform, for
purity, for religion, was proved during the pontificates of the two
Medici, Leo X and Clement VII. The Medici had patronized the arts, both
in Florence and in Rome, and the arts repaid the Medici with enjoyment
and renown. But the Medici had done nothing for the spirit of reform; on
the contrary, they had helped crush Savonarola, and the spirit of reform
turned upon them. Germany hoisted the standard of secession during the
pontificate of Leo, and an army of the unfaithful sacked Rome during
that of Clement.
Leo X was a fat, clever, cultivated man, with no great virtues and no
real vices. "Let us enjoy the Papacy since God has given it to us," is
the sentiment put into his mouth, and serves to characterize his reign.
Bred in his father's intellectual circle, and a member of the luxurious
Roman society, Leo shared the tastes of both. He was a connoisseur of
works of art, and derived genuine aesthetic pleasure from them; he was
also fond of agreeable company, good cookery, the chase, and most forms
of social amusement. His political conduct was not of much real
consequence, as matters had gone too far. In the interminable struggle
between Charles V and Francis I, the Papacy tried to hold a balance of
power, and bargained with both sides; but, as the Spaniards, in
possession of both Milan and Naples, were the stronger, the Papacy
generally found its advantage on that side. As to the larger matter of
the ecclesiastical unity of Christendom there was practically nothing
to be done. The causes which split the Teutonic world from the Latin
were already matured. It was too late to stop the Reformation. Luther
might have been dealt with more shrewdly, but the forces behind him
could not have been kept in check. Leo excommunicated Luther (1520), and
the Imperial Diet at Worms condemned him and his doctrine, but the unity
of the Church was doomed.
To Leo succeeded his cousin Clement VII, after a brief pontificate by
the last foreign Pope. Clement was incompetent, and failed to realize
the gravity of his situation; neither he nor Rome understood the crisis
they had reached. The prevailing state of mind may be inferred from this
extract from the diary of a young Roman burgher: "I saw this Pope the
first day of May, 1525, come in the morning of the Feast of SS. Philip
and James to the Church of the Holy Apostles, and after celebrating high
mass, remain all day and night in the palace of the Colonna.... That day
it was an old and foolish custom in the Colonna palace (which connects
with the church and has windows looking in it), to throw various kinds
of fowls and animals into the church to the people who were there, all
of the lowest sort. They also put a pig in the middle of the church up
high, and whoever was able to climb up and take it, won it; and on top
of the roof were kegs and pots of water, which they poured on the
persons who climbed up. The amusement of those gentlemen, and of the
rest who looked on, was to see the crowd in a mess, battling,
shrieking, pushing, shoving, like beasts,--a merrymaking not becoming in
a church or any sacred edifice." The diary adds: "Now let people learn
to know the souls of the great and especially of priests, how wicked,
deceitful, and false they are, how full of fraud and knavery."[20] There
were plenty of other facts to prove this conclusion. The merrymaking was
doomed to cease.
The incompetent Pope was totally at a loss what policy to follow, not
knowing whether it was better to incline towards the Empire or to
France. He shifted at the wrong time, joined a league against the
Empire, then wriggled and shuffled, and so drew upon himself and the
devoted city the punishment due to a long course of wickedness. The
Imperial army, a ruffian host of Germans (many of them Lutherans),
Spaniards, and Italians, under the command of the traitor Bourbon, was
encamped in the north; the unpaid soldiers clamoured for plunder, and
Bourbon led them to Rome, carried the neglected walls by assault, and
put the city to sack. Rome was a little city, with perhaps 90,000
inhabitants, but rich in the oblations and tribute money of Christendom;
the churches were decked with gold and silver, the palaces stuffed with
precious paintings, tapestries, and ornaments of every kind. Popes,
cardinals, and princes had rivalled one another in accumulations of
works of art and articles of luxury. Though license, profligacy, and
crime had then shut out Rome from the sympathy of the world, it is
impossible to read to-day of the horrors of the sack--men murdered,
mothers, daughters, nuns outraged, old men and priests brutally
insulted, churches and sacred relics defiled--without the sharpest pity.
For eight days the devilish work went on, and but 30,000 inhabitants
were left, so many had fled, or been killed, or made prisoners (1527).
Terrible was the punishment that Clement witnessed,--Rome sacked, the
liberty of Italy taken away, the Roman Catholic Church rent in two.
FOOTNOTES:
[19] The Roman Curia is not looking for a sheep without wool.
[20] _The Papacy during the Reformation_, vol. v, Appendix (translated).
M. Creighton.