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I
GIFT OF
SEELEY W. MUDD
and
GEORGE I. COCHRAN MEYER ELSASSER
DR.JOHNR. HAYNES WILLIAM L. HONNOLD
JAM ES R. MARTIN MRS. JOSEPH F. SARTOR!
to the
UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA
SOUTHERN BRANCH
UKIVERSITY of CALTFOROTT
AT
LOS ANGELES
LIBRAKY
PAUL THE POPE
AND
PAUL THE FRIAP
A STORY OF AN INTERDICT.
BY
T. ADOLPHUS TROLLOPE,
AUTHOR OW " FILIPPO STliOZZl : A BIOGRArHT;" "a DECADE OF ITALIAN
WOMEN," ETC. ETC.
LONDON :
CHAPMAN AND IIATJ., lOO, PICCADILLY.
18U1.
L0>n50N :
BKADBUUY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.
• •• •-•• • •••• •
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■3X
Tl4p
PREFACE.
The gi-eat contest between tlie Venetian Republic
and the Holy See at the beginning of the seventeenth
century, was in its results and bearings on the progress
and fortunes of Europe, a far more momentous and
memorable event than a mere quarrel between two
small Italian States. The contemporary world, indeed,
felt it to be so, and interested itself proportionably in
the vicissitudes of the struggle. Rome had recently
emerged from her greater contest with the principles
of the Reformation, sorely diminished indeed as to the
extent of the countries and populations subjected to
her sway, but with renewed strength and a firmer hold,
as many have thought, on those that still owned her
supremacy. This quarrel with Venice was the first
serious collision with any part of her subjects, after
the so-called " restoration " of Catholicism ; the first
trial of her renovated strength against a force which
the tropes, in the palmy days of the Church, would
liave crushed with one blow of the pastoral staif.
And the restored and re-invigorated Chuich was defied
vi PREFACE.
and defeated, with losses, which it has never recovered.
The increase of power, which would have accrued to
the Holy See, had Kome succeeded in humhling
Venice, would have been considerable. But it would
have been as nothing to the loss which she sustained
by her failure to do so. Reasons have been assigned
in the first book of the following story for misdoubting
the value of the supposed " restoration " of the
CatlioUc Church towards the close of the sixteenth
century. The issue of her contest with Venice
supplies a further confirmation of the opinion there
expressed. But the subsequent history of the Church,
from that day to the present, has made evident more
than this. It has shown (even to those minds, whicli
failed to reach a similar conviction from an a priori,
consideration of the constitution and foundations of a
Church claiming infallible authority), that the Papacy,
not only was not restoredy but was then and evermore
unrestorahle ; that it could but continue its path in the
straight line in which it had hitherto travelled ; and
that this straight line must, at a more or less distant
point, come into ii'reconcileable collision with that
other straight line, on which mankind was as certainly
and inevitably advancing, as surely as two converging
lines must sooner or later meet. The two great, but
infinitely unequal forces are rushing onwards, each on
its appointed path, and the collision point is very near;
PREFACE. vii
is indeed quite in sight. The wind of the coming
shock may already be felt. Or would not the metaphor
more correctly represent the fact, if it were said that
the crash is akeady in our ears ; and its fii'st conse-
quences such as to render its final issue no longer
doubtful to any man ? Eonie's first thought, when the
terrible moment was upon her, her first instinctive
action, was to put her hand to the old weapon, — in
truth her only avowable one, — which had once stood
her in such good stead. But she dared not draw it
forth. She essays to point to it in terrorem ; but her
enemies remember the story of the last time it was
used; and not only laugh at the threat, but in all
seriousness wish that Holy Church would save them
some trouble, and some delay, by adopting the suicidal
policy of once more attempting to use it.
But Rome will do nothing of the kind. The terrible
Friar has not been forgotten there. His still formid-
able shadow haunts the council-chambers of the
Vatican. And the story, on which the reader is about
to enter, may be safely accepted as that of the last of
the Interdicts.
CONTENTS.
BOOK I.
THE TIME.
— « —
CHAPTER I.
, PAGE
Introductory ^
CHAPTER II.
Position of the Church and State question in the latter half of the
16ih century. — Restoration of the Church of Rome. — Real value
of that restoration. — Hostility between the Church and the
World. — Causes of this. — Inevitable effects of Protestantism. —
Its working in England. — Awakening of despotic monarchs to
the real tendencies of Protestanti.sm. — Consequent alliance between
them and R^jrae. — Grounds of quarrel between spiritual and lay
despotism. — Rome's claims higher than ever after the Council. —
Rome preaches anti-monarchical doctrines. — Opinion of Ranke on
the possibilities at that time open to the Catholic Church.— This
opinion controverted.— The Council of Trent.— Its right to the
title of " CEc-umenical."— Net results of it very different from
what was anticijtated. — Real motives of its dccision.s. — Justifica-
tion by Faith and by Works. — Rome's meaning of the term
" Works."— The claims of Rome to universal supremacy are
logical.— The oidy alteniative left to mankind is entire submis-
sion or denial of her first principles. —Hut despotic rulers can
adopt neither of these alternatives . . . • . . 9
CONTENTS.
BOOK TI.
THE MEN.
CHAPTER I.
PAOK
Two lawyer Popes. — Similarities and contrasts. — Conscientious bigotry
of Paul V. — Effects of the policy of Clement VIII. — Change in
the tone of the Church. — Election and death of Leo XI. — Con-
clave for the election of Paul V. — Secret history of the Conclaves.
— "The Conclavisti." — Regulations for the holding of Conclaves.
— Mode of proceeding. — Three methods of electing a Pope. —
Difficulty of following all the details of the story of a Conclave. 37
CHAPTER II.
The story of a Conclave. — That of Paul V. divided into four parties.
— Candidature of Cardinal Saoli. — First scrutiny. — Bellarmine
put forward. —Cardinal Montalto at supper. — Pi-oposal to elect
Cardinal Camerino. — San Clemen te proposed. — Formal exclusion
of him by Montalto's party. — A well-devised move defeated. —
Formal exclusion of Cardinal Saoli. — Cardinal Tosco put forward.
Montalto's indecision. — He consents to vote for Tosco — That Car-
dinal all but elected. — The slip between the cup aud the lip.
— Baronius, his charactei". — Prevents the election of Tosco. —
Extraordinary scene in the Conclave. — Two hostile camps in the
Sistine and Paoline chapels. — Negotiations between them. —
Strange scene in the Sistine chapel. — Proposal of Cardinal
Borghese. — Cardinal Joyeuse. — Scene in his cell. — Election of
Borghfcse — Its consequences ....... 52
CHAPTER III.
Character of Paul V. as Pope. — His personal appearance. — Case of
Puccinardi. — Paul's superstition and fear of death. — His quarrels
with various governments. — France — Naples — Malta — Savoy —
Parma — Lucca. — Views of the civil and ecclesiastical power. —
Paul's quarrel with Genoa. — Sarpi's character of Paul V. . . 80
CHAPTER IV.
Infancy of Fri Paolo. — Natural bent of his mind. — First instructors.
— Becomes a Servite Friar. — Scholastic disputations. — Origin and
tendency of them. — Sarpi's early scholastic triumphs. — He is
made Theologian to the Duke of Mantua. — His claims to scientific
CONTENTS. xi
PACK
discoveries. — Treatises "deomni scibile." — The Duke of Man-
tua's joke. — Sarpi is sent to Jlilan by his superiors. — Is accused
of heresy. — Acquitted ........ 93
CHAPTER V.
Sarpi returns to Venice to lecture on Philosophy. — Become? acquainted
■with Arnauld Ferrier.— Is elected Provincial, — Differences be-
tween the Monastic and Mendicant Orders. — The Order of
Servites. — Dissensions between different Provinces of the Order. —
Chreat meeting of the Order at Parma. —Sarpi elected a Delegate
for the reconstitution of the Order. — His sojourn at Rome. — His
criminal code. — He is elected Procuratore of the Order. — Friend-
ships formed by him at Rome. — Cardinal Castagna. — Quarrels of
the Friars. — Fru Dardano. — Fr3, Giulio. — Sarpi's fourth journey
to Rome. — Case of the Due de Joyeuse. — Sarpi's friendship and
companionship in his studies with Galileo . . . .105
CHAPTER VI.
Sarpi as a friar. — Strict in his religious observances. —His sincerity. —
Opinions respecting tliis. — Does not attend the Confessional. — His
real views with regard to Rome. — The Chronology of the accusa-
tions against him. — He fUls to obtain the See of Milopotamus. — •
Again is refused tliat of Caorle. — And a third time tliat (if Nona.
— Cardinal Bellarmine's reflections on these refusals. — Krror
Bellarmiue. — Sarpi's intercourse with the world. — Circle which
met at the hou.se of Andrea Morosini. — That at the house of
Bernardo Secchini.— lli.s foreign friends. — Visit to Padua. — The
eve of the great struggle ........ 124
BOOK III.
BRUTUM FULMEN.
CHAPTER I.
Causes of misunderstanding between Rome and Venice. — The Republic
from very early times careful to avoid cccieBiaslical encroach-
ment. — False nutioMH of juri.Mprudence. — Tl)c Ubcocks. — The
qnarrcl about Ceneda. — liull to forbid travelling in heretical
countries. — Extension of tlio prohibitions of the Index to Ve-
nice. — I'lume beconies iioHsessod of Ferrara. — QuarreU with Venice
ari.ting therefrom. — Quarrels respecting the Investiture of the
Patriarch.— These matters influential in causing the refusal of a
bishopric to Hat pi 14 ;{
xii CONTENTS.
V
CHAPTER II.
PAGE
Paul's selection of Nuncios. — Orazlo Mattel, Nuncio at Venice. — The
Pope opens the campaign against Venice. — Count Brandolino,
Abbot of Nervesa. — The Canon Saraceni of Vicenza. — His
offences. — Paul's dictum on the .sulgection of ecclesiastics to the
civil courts. — Venetian laws restraining the multiplication of
ecclesiastics and the acquisition of property hy them. — Necessity
of such laws. — The Church imprudent in claiming exemption from
taxes. — The disputants in this matter in the I7th century avoid
appealing to first principles. — Pope Paul's indignation. — The
political horizon bodes storm 154
CHAPTER III.
Interview between the Pope and the Venetian ambassador. — Tactics of
the Venetian Senate. — Paul's complaints. — His passionate bear-
ing. — Low ground taken by the ambassador. — Speech of Paul. —
The ambassador's reply. — Advantages in ai-gument which he
gives to the Pope. — Paul neglects these. — The Nuncio presents
himself before the College of State in Venice. — His insolence and
violence. — Respect paid to his eccIesiasMcal character. — Reply of
the College. — Hostilities between Rome and Venice begin from
these two interviews . . . . . . . .165
CHAPTER IV.
Ambassadors extraordinary sent to E.ome by the Republic — The Pope's
fraudulent trickery in the matter of calling the Patriarch to
Rome. — Negotiations and delays. — Paul led to farm false hopes
by the Jesuits. — Views and expectations of the Republic. — Report
of the ambassador's second audience. — Bad political economy of
the Senate. — Violent threats of the Pope. — Fresh instructions
from the Senate to the ambassador. — Unanimous vote of the
Senate on the reply to be made to the Nuncio. — Paul commands
two briefs to be prepared. — Report of a third audience of the
Pope. — Paul's declaration of his unlimited authority. — The briefs
are despatched . . . . . . . . ..175
CHAPTER V.
The arguments put forward by the Republic did not deserve to pre-
vail. — And why] — Sarpi consulted by the Republic. — Protestant
views at that day. — The Senate decides on sending an extraordi-
CONTENTS, xiii
PAGE
nary ambassador to Rome. — Nuncio is informed of it. — The
policy of France. — Cardinals murmur at the sending of the
briefs. — The Senate sends letters to the various Courts. — Paul
orders the instant presentation of the briefs. — Means adopted by
the Pope for keeping the departure of a courier from the know-
ledge of the Venetian ambassador.^ — Remarkable scene in the
ducal palace. — The Nuncio presents the briefs. —The death of
Giimani ........... 187
CHAPTER YI.
Election of the new Doge, Leonardo Donato. — The opening of the
briefs. — The brief respecting the laws on the alienation of pro-
perty to ecclesiastics. — The Senate consults authorities. — Applies
to Fra Paolo. —His wi-itten answer. — He is appointed theologian
to the Republic— Copies of the Pope's brief sent to foreign courts.
— The Senate's rej.ly to the brief. — Interview between the am-
bassador and the Pope ou presenting the reply .... 199
CHAPTER VII.
The Nuncio before the College on the lOth of February. — The Doge
and the blessed Candle. — Feeling at the foreign Courts. — France.
— Spain. — Presentation of the second brief. — Reply of the Senate.
— Duodo the ambassador extraordinary, and the Pope, on the
25th of March. —The French ambassador before the College. —
Opinions of the Cardinals.— The Venetians seek to make delays.
— The English ambassador, Wotton, and Secretary Scaramelli. —
Intercepted letter of the General of the Jesuits. — Intercession of
the Cardinals of Verona and Vicenza. — The Interdict drawn up
and printed. — Paul wavers at the last moment. — Scene in the
Consistory. — The Interdict is published 215
BOOK IV'.
FDLiMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
CHAPTER I.
Immediate results of the Interdict. — Rome's weapons are still the
same. — Theory of Kxcoinniunication. — Text from St. Matthew.
— Interdict, its oriijinal use and theory. — Struggles of the civil
power against it.— No appeal to fundamental principles attempted.
xiv CONTENTS.
PACE
Treatise of Chancellor Gerson. — Summary of liis positions. — Bcl-
larmiiie's polemic. — Sarpi's defence of Gerson. — Tlie rules of the
scholastic game aclniitted as .supreme authority on all sides. —
Eesults to Roman Catholic intellect. — Labours of the casuists. —
Sarpi fights his fight as a good Catholic ..... 233
CHArXER II.
What was to be said, and what was to be done about the Interdict. —
No real faith in the effect of Excommunication, except among the
uneducated masses. — Esoteric and exoteric doctrines. — Danger
to society from the distinction. — Real meaning and intent of the
Interdict. — Means of resistance adapted to this intent. — How
about Sarpi's orthodoxy ? — Position of the Venetian priests. —
Anecdote of the measures adopted towards one of them. — Results
of State and Church connection. — The Friar's orthodoxy again. —
The material measures adopted by the Senate more interesting to
us, than the theological arguments of its advocates . . . 251
CHAPTER III.
ileasures tal^en by Venice. — Divided into four categories. — Means
adopted for preventing the Pope's brief from entering Venice. —
The Duge to the Nuncio. — Formal protest against the Interdict. —
The foreign ambassadors. — France. — Spain. — Germany. — The
smaller States. — The English ambassador. — Venice arms. — Penal
measures adopted against disobedient priests. — Nonconforming
priests acted rightly. — Steps taken against various priests. — The
Capuchins and 'i'heatines. — Bishop's relatives threatened. — The
Jesuits quit Venice. ......... 204
CHAPTER IV.
The Nuncio at Venice on Ascension-day. — Another Nuncio on the
same day at Piague. — The Nuncio quits Venice. — The Venetian
ambassador quiti^ Rome. — Interview between the Venetian ambas-
sador and King James in London.— Engli.sh ideas of a new
Council. — Strange occurrence at Vicenza. — Attempts of the Pope
to stir up disturliances in the Venetian States. — Measures of the
Senate for rateting these. — Military position of the two parties.
— Policy of France. ^Of England — A second interview between
James and the Venetian ambassador. — Sir Henry Wotton before
the College. — Henry IV. 's remarks on King James's offers to
CONTENTS. XV
PAGE
Venice. — The Pope shows signs of willingness to come to terms.
— All hope of this destroyed for the time being by the Spanish
King's letter to the Pope 282
CHAPTER V.
The Pope deceived in his hopes of assistance from Spain. — His present
position. — Much damajre had been inflicted on the Church. — The
literature of the Interdict. — The censorship at Venice. — Character
and .scope of the writings on the side of the Church. — Bellarmine.
— Various proposals for arranging the differences. — How was the
Interdict to be taken off? — Spanish and French politics. — Di
Castro sent by Spain to Venice. — His mission fails. — Jealousies
between the French and Spanish ambassadors. — Cardinal Joyeuse
sent to Venice 298
BOOK V.
PEACE WHERE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
CHAPTER I.
Cardinal de Joyeuse sent as ambassador extraordinary to Italy. —
DiflBculties encountered by him. — Di Castro, the Spanish ambas-
sador extraordinary. — De Joj'euse at the College. — The " word,"
which the Venetians were urged to speak. — Di Castro at the
College. —Spanish hiatillty. — Conditions proposed by the Senate.
— French finesse and diplomatic tact.— Final reply of the Senate
to De Joyeuse, and to Di Castro.— De Joyeuse starts for Home. —
The Turkish view of the quarrel.— The Spanish ambassadors
detected falsehoods. — Negotiations of De Joyeuse at Rome. — His
return from Home . . . . ■ • • • .311
CHAPTER II.
The Cardinal reports his successes. — The Jesuit difficulty. — Other
differences —The reply of the Senate.— Account of the interview
l)etwecn the Cardinal and the deputed S.jimlorH. — Venice docs
not wish for a Papal benediction — Who shall 8p<'ak first, Doge
or Pope? -The Cardinal loves truth, but loves Vu\n: Paul better.
— Shall we say two ambassadors? — Venice won't bale an inch. —
xvi CONTENTS.
PAGF
The Pope, therefore, has to do so. — The form of the document re-
calling the Ducal Protest. — Tweedkdum and Tweudledee. — Con-
ditions of reconciliation are completed 326
CHAPTER III.
The day of reconciliation. — The giving up of the ecclesiastical prisoners.
— No rejoicings in Venice. — The removal of the Censures. — The
Cardinal celebrates mass. — Venice won't listen to him-.-An am-
bassador to Rome elected. — Presents voted to De Joyeuse and
Di Castro. — Fresh complaints of the Pope. — Unsuccessful efforts
of the Cardinal. — "Stato" and "restato." — The new ambas-
sador's entry into Eome, and audience of the Pope. — Damage
received by Kome in the contest. — Her enmity against Sarpi. . 340
CHAPTER IV.
The litigation of Rome v. Venice is decided ; — but that of Rome v.
Sarpi i-emains. — Anathema is tried, and fails. — Prospects of Pro-
testantism in Italy. — Cajolery is tned against the Friar, and
faUs. — Cardinal de Joyeuse again. — The new Nuncio, Berlinghiero
Gessi. — Rome, finding both curses and cajolery useless against
the Friar, has recourse to other means. — Letter from Trajan
Boccalini to Sarpi. — Warning from Gaspar Schioppius. — Sarpi's
reply to these warnings. — Warnings from the Venetian ambas-
sador at Rome. — Rutilio Orlandini. — Attempted assassination of
Sarpi in the streets of Venice. 353
CHAPTER V.
Who were the assassins? — The escape of most of the gang. — The
story of the matter current at the time. — Antecedents of Poma.
— Commotion caused by the assassination in Venice. — Measures
of the Government. — Proclamation for the arrest of the assassins.
— Measures taken for Sarpi's future safety. — Rome offended by
the terms of the proclamation by the Senate. — Subsequent life
and adventures of Poma. — Steps taken by Rome to avert the
suspicions of Europe. — Disputes at Rome. — General feeling there.
— Death of Poma. — Other conspiracies against the life of Sarpi. —
His remaining years, and death. — Death of Paul V. — Conclusion 366
NOTES 398
INDEX 335
BOOK I.
THE TIME.
CHAPTEK I.
— ♦ —
INTRODUCTORY.
The two men were born in the same year, one in
Rome, and the other in Venice. It was in 1552. The
first was Camillo Borghese, the son of a law3'er of
Siena, who had abandoned his native city to avoid the
despotism of Cosmo de Medici, when that tyrant by
violence and treachery succeeded in making himself
master of that previously independent republic. The
Siennese citizen prospered in Eome ; became Dean
of the Consistorial bar there ; and father of the future
I'aul v., by Flaminia degli Astalli, a noble Roman
ludy.
The second of the two was Pietro Sarpi, the son of a
Venetian trader, who is recorded by that son's biogra-
l)hers to have been an active, energetic, restless, wiry,
sharp-eyed little man, turl)ulent, quarrelsome, and im-
practicable witliiil ; qualities which seem to have so
far neutralised liis better gifts, as to have rendered
the poor man's life-struggle a consistently unsuccess-
ful one, and to liave contributed to hustle him out of
it while his son was yet an infant. The wife of this
broken-down trader, the widowed mother of the iul'aut
citizen of Venice was, we are told — and the information
may not be without interest to speculative physiologists
— singularly contrasted with her husband in appear-
4 INTRODUCTION.
unce and temperament. Lisabetta Morelli belonged
to a family of free Venetian citizens, a distinction felt
in Venice by those ^Yho possessed it, as well as by
those who liad it not, to be equivalent to a sort of
nobility ; thougli, as in the case of the widow Sarpi, it
was compatible with a very humble social position.
Lisabetta Avas one of those tall, finely-formed blondes,
whom Titian loved to paint, with pearls among the
abundant tresses of their golden hair, and whom his
pictures have taught us to associate with surroundings
of Venetian scenery, and passages of Venetian story ;
not inappropriately, for it is a type frequently to be
met with among the native population of the sea-born
city, and its neighbour islands ; and is indicative of
purity of descent from a more northern race, unmodi-
fied by that mixture with the indigenous Italian stock,
which was more inevitable in the cities of the main
land. A mild, gentle-hearted, loving woman, with
strong religious feelings and tendencies, we are told,
the widow Sarpi was ; and it is added, that her son
resembled her in feature and temperament.
And the two boys, the wealthy and highly placed
young Roman, and the poor and humbly born young
Venetian, grew up during that third quarter of the
sixteenth century, the one in Home and the other in
Venice, among the different influences that were pre-
paring them for the parts they were respectively to
play in the woi'ld ; and no human sagacity or foresight
could have availed to foretell, that either should be
aught more to the other than any other undistinguished
unit of the then rising generation. But the Roman
boy rose to be made, by the play of priestly passions
and the intriguing of rival kings. Pope Paul V. ; while
the Venetian grew to become by vii'tue of his own
" IL TERRIBILE FIIATE. 5
gifts of head and heart, the Servite Friar Paul, " the
Venetian," as in after Hfe he was with such good
reason wont to sign himself. Pope Paul was a pope
such as in some degree his own idiosyncrasy, hut in a
greater degree the circumstances of his age made him ;
and he belonged both by what was good and by what
was evil in him to a class of popes, of whom Rome
produced about that time several examples. But " Frii
Paolo Yeneto " — Friar Paul, the Venetian — was such
a friar as the world has not seen before nor since.
" II terribile frate," as the historians of his country
are fond of calling him, — the terrible friar was terrible
indeed to his adversaries in that great fight, which has
rendered his name world-famous.
No good work, it has been well said, ever dies. By
virtue of its ever expanding series of consequences it
is immortal. But it is the fortune of some among the
benefactors of mankind, that the very circumstance
of the incompleteness of the victory won by them in
their struggle against evil, serves to keep the living
and still active force of what they did achieve more
I)erpetually before the eyes of succeeding generations.
Where tbe fight has still to be carried on, the champion
is still needed. And of few of tlie great warriors in
the eternal cause of truth, wlio have fought the good
tight and gone to their rest, can tJjis be predicated
with such striking correctness, as of Paul the Friar of
N'enice. Of few can it be said so justly, not only that
being dead they yet speak, l^iit that their speaking is
still that, of which the world has at its present hour
special need.
It is nearly two centuries and a half since Sarpi
died, and despite his indefatigable energy, his immense
industry, liis unshakeuble courage, his vast learning.
6 INTRODUCTION.
and his ardent patriotism, left his work incomplete.
The emancipation of civil society from priestl}' thral-
dom was the work for which he lived. And no one
man has ever accomplished so much towards that all-
important aim. Bnt the task was too arduous for one
individual and one life-time to accomplish.
"I must go to St. Mark's," he muttered, when
dying, in the delirium which preceded his dissolution
then close at hand ; " it is already late, and I have
much to do ! "
Yes ! there was still much needed to be done by
that poor brain yet so busy with its wonted thoughts.
But the night was at hand, when no man could work
more ; and the task was left undone. But if the final
winning of the battle was not for him to see, if the
gathering of the harvest was for other hands and other
days, it is to him we owe the sowing of the seed, which
has in due time produced the crop, even now ready for
the sickle.
But if the gratitude of all succeeding generations,
and especially of the jiresent, has been, and is, due, in
a greater measure, perhaps, than has been generally
recognised, to Father Paul, to a still greater degree
have the historians of the various European nations
failed to mete out a fair measure of recognition to the
sagacious, intrepid, and patriotic government, which
employed, protected, and backed him, and which, at a
time when greater nations from corrupt motives would
not, and weaker communities dared not, oj^pose the
encroachments of Church power on the secular affairs
of mankind, stood forth the champion of civil liberty
and the supremacy of civil law. It was under the
strong shield of the Venetian republic that the terrible
Friar braved the power which, but for such protection,
MISCONCEPTIONS EESPECTING VENICE. 7
would have crushed him in an instant. It was at the
biddincj and for the laws of Venice that he fought as a
Venetian citizen, preferring loyalty to his humanity to
loyalty to his tonsure.
The position assumed by the government of Venice
in the great and all-important struggle which is to be
the subject of the following pages, was truly such as
to merit the admiration and gratitude of mankind.
But in this, as in various other respects, the peculiar
and remarkable government which ruled Venice and
its territory for more than eight hundred years, has
been but superficially studied and very erroneously
appreciated by the writers of popular history. The
French historian Daru, whose work is one of pre-
tension, and has incautiously been widely received as
one of authority, has contributed much to this false
and unjust estimate by its errors in fact and unfairness
in representation. But a few picturesque lines by an
universally-read poet have done, perhaps, even more
to root in tlie contemporary popular mind a very mis-
taken notion of a government which, though it was by
no means free from the errors in practice and theory
that belonged to its age, was for a period of many
centuries decidedly in advance of any other European
community, both in its conception of the functions of
government and its modes of carrying out its views.
A graphic poet-spoken word or two of description of
the prisons of the republic, — a romantic story or two
of the secret action and irresistible power of " the
Ten," — liavc sufiiccd to enable the flash of genius to
photograpli on the public mind the well-known picture
of a mysterious, remorseless, and tyrannic power,
which serves " the general reader" for an idea of llmt
skilfully-constructed and well-poised system of govern-
8 INTRODUCTION.
meut, to wliich mankind has on many occasions owed
so much. In viiin the matter-of-fact traveller, rule
and note-book in hand, visits the prisons, which have
securely established themselves in all the romantic
imaginations of Europe, and proves that any jury of
upholsterers would pronounce them far more comfort-
ably habitable than many of our own. In vain it is
suggested to the romance-of- history-loving mind that
the Bridge of Sighs conveys by its poetically lugu-
brious name no such serious imputation on the
authorities, to which it belonged, as, for instance,
the phrase " Black Monday " casts on the adminis-
trations which made Monday perennially " black " at
the Old Bailey. The prose-man and humble dealer in
fact finds it — not in this matter alone — a very up-hill
and well nigh hopeless task to undo that which the
poet and the romancer have but too thoroughly done.
The real history of Venice has yet to be written.
Abundant materials for it are now available which
could hardly be said to be available a few years ago.
It is a story second to none that mankind has ever
acted in all that makes history valuable and delightful.
We have much writing on the subject ; but we have
not yet the history of Venice, in any language.
Meanwhile it is the more modest scope of this
volume to tell the true story of one episode in that
history, especially deserving of the study and admira-
tion of all ages ; but, above all, worthy of attention at
the present day.
CHAPTER II.
Positioa of the Church and State question in the latter half of the 16th
century. — Restoration of the Church of Rome. — Real value of that
restoration. — Hostility between the Church and the World. — Causes of
this. — Inevitable effects of Protestantism. — Its working in England. —
Awakening of despotic mouarchs to the real tendencies of Protestantism.
— Consequent alliance between them and Rome. — Grounds of quarrel
between spiritual and lay despotism. — Rome's claims higher than ever
after the Council. — Rome preaches anti-monarchical doctrines. —
Opinion of Ranke on the possibilities at that time open to the Catholic
Church. — This opinion controverted. — The Council of Trent. — Its right
to the title of "(Ecumenical." — Net results of it very different from
what was anticipated.— Real motives of its decisions. — Justification by
Faith and by Works. — Rome's meaning of the term "Works." — The
claims of Rome to universal supremacy are logical. — The only
alternative left to mankind is entire submission or denial of her
first principles. — But despotic rulers can adopt neither of these
alternatives.
It will be the object of the second book of my story
to give the reader as complete a conception as I am
able of the two men who were the principal champions
in the memorable quarrel that has been spoken of in
the last chapter. But, before attempting this, it will
be well to describe, as shortly as possible, the position
in whicli matters ecclesiastical stood in the world at
tlic time when Paul the Pope and Paul the Friar were
called on to take })art in them.
Matters ecclesiastical occupied at that time a very
large portion of the thoughts, aims, and strivings of
nations and their rulers. Tons of tomes have been
written in record and elucidation of the controversies
and arguments of the thinkers, the motives and actions
10 THE TIME.
of the doers, in the great struggle to get these matters
adjusted in some not totally intolerable way, which
then mainly occupied mankind. The attempt, there-
fore, to set forth any intelligible account of so large a
subject in a few short pages, may perhaps reasonably
appear presumptuous, if not absurd. It n^ny, how-
ever, be not impossible to accomplish this, if we will
limit ourselves to a statement of the . real gist and
object of the disputes which were agitating Europe,
and content ourselves with the true meaning and aims
of the disputants, to the exclusion of all their repre-
sentations of their meaning and aims, and of all
their indirect and not wholly sincere manoeuvrings,
schemings, and strategetic movements. The plain
truth of any matter can always be told in very much
fewer words than are used about it by those who have
reasons for not setting forth the full and naked truth
respecting it. And this will be found to be so in a
very especial degi'ee in the case of matters eccle-
siastical, where very simple, very intelligible, and
quite mundane objects were contended for on grounds
involving purely theological considerations. Take,
for example, the Council of Trent, the greatest event
of the times in question. It lasted eighteen years ;
and never, probably, in the annals of mankind has
there been enacted a drama demanding so large an
erudition, so subtle a power of analysis, and so patient
a development of exposition in the historian who
would satisfactorily relate all the details of its pro-
gress, elucidate all the motives and policy of the
numerous personages who took part in it or influenced
its decisions ; paint in their proper colours the diverse
passions and aims which, checking, clashing, and
thwarting each other, contributed to the general
COUNCIL OF TKENT. 11
result ; and draw out the clear sti*eam of an intelli-
gible narrative from the mass of documents, immense
and yet imperfect, in which all this is to be found.
The difficulty and extent of the subject is so great,
that the labours of the historians who have treated of
it have still left a sufficiently arduous task to such
readers of their works as would attain to a full com-
prehension of the story. Eanke * speaks much of the
almost insuperable difficulty of attaining to an accu-
rate and satisfactory knowledge of the history of the
Council ; and if such an investigator has found the
task all but impossible, any other may be tempted to
give up the enterprise in despair. Yet the leading
and simple truths connected with this great event, the
real reasons which brought it about, the true motives
of those who controlled its determinations, and the
broad and certain consequences to which it led, may
be easily comprehended and compendiously stated.
The history of Europe during the generation which
succeeded to that of the Tridentine Fathers is also one
of considerable complexity, though far more easily to
bo mastered than that of the Council itself. The
adjustment of tbo interests of the civil and eccle-
siastical autlioritics in the diflerent countries of
Kurope h'd to a great variety of events, political
systems, alliances, and quarrels. But the master-key
to tlie right understanding of all this history is to be
found in the necessary antagonism of secular and
clerical interests ; and the nature of this necessary
antagonism, the position of the two, or rather three,
parties in the strife (for the people had interests
altogether ditl'erent from those of either Church or
* See Appendix, No. 21, Hist, of the PopCB of 16tb aud 17tli ccnturieH.
12 THE TIME.
monarch), and the real objects of each of them, are
also capable of being shortly and clearly set forth.
Such brief and compendious statements, however, it
must be understood, make no pretence to be history :
they are merely tlie generalised, net results of the
history as digested by the writer's mind ; they furnish
the reader with no means of testing the correctness of
the writer's conclusions ; and different minds digest
their historical studies to very different net results,
and to the formation of very different opinions. Yet
such unsupported statements of the true essence of
the history, as it appears to the present writer, are all
that can be attempted here ; and readers disposed to
differ with him in his reading of the fiicts, can only be
referred for the formation of their owai judgments to
the great sources of our knowledge of the period.
The great revolt against Rome which resulted in
liberating a portion of Europe from her 3'oke, did not
liave the effect of weakening her hold on the part
which still remained to her. On the contrary, the
sacerdotal despotism, which weighed on the greatest
part of Europe and rendered all progress impossible,
appeared to consolidate and estabUsh itself. The
nations had made their struggle, their efforts had
proved ineffectual, and they seemed to have sunk back
exhausted into acquiescence under the tyranny, from
which they had failed to emancipate themselves. The
great life-and-death battle, which in the earlier part of
the sixteenth century the Church had waged for its
existence, had been fought out and decided, while Paul
the Pope, fifth of that name, and Paul the Friar were
growing up to man's estate.
" Heresy" had been extirpated in Italy, and was
about to be so in other countries, which it had, with
CATHOLIC EESTORATION. 13
fair prospect of success at one time, disputed with
Rome. This consoHdation of Churcli power over
those nations which had not succeeded in throwing off
its thraldom, has generally been called the great
restoration of Catholicism. And Protestant writers,
as well as such Catholics as have been sufficiently un-
Catholic to admit the possibilit}'- that the infallible
Church could need amending, have pointed out the
marked amelioration and reform which it underwent in
the course of, and as a necessary consequence of, the
struggle. The change, which took place at that time
in Rome's politics, habits of thought, and ways of life,
was indeed far too notable to escape the observation of
the most superficial reader of Papal history.
But if the new course, on which the Church of
Rome was then entering, and which it has since pur-
sued be studied by one, who will bear in mind the
while the true meaning of a " Church," its proper
significance and duty, and the conditions on which
alone it can hope to discharge the functions it pro-
fesses to undertake, he will perhaps come to the
conclusion, that the Catholic " restoration"* or reform
during the latter half of the sixteenth century, far
from being any real restoration or return to the true
position and duties of a Church, was a movement which
If.'d that of Rome farther away than ever from all
possibility of assuming such a position or jierforming
such duties. Amelioration of u certain very visible
sort there was unquestionably. The Popes became
" respectable," and Rome " decent." No more
monsters of well-nigh incredible profligacy were seen
on the Papal throne. No more high-handed despots
• The iihraae is e8i>ccially Rankc'a. Sec Book vi. of tlic llistory of the
Popes.
14 THE TIME.
capable of shaking Europe with a trembling fit by
thunders launched " Urbi et Orbi" from the Lateran !
The occupants of Peter's seat took more to blessing
and less to cursing. " Servus servorum" no longer
appeared in the character of a warrior-chief more con-
versant with battle-fields than breviaries. The halls
of the Vatican no more echoed the merriment of Papal
banquets over jests and conversation fitted rather to
the table of a Mecaenas or a Lucullus, than to tliat of
Heaven's vicegerent upon earth. We find no
more bishojis openly advising each other to avoid
reading the trash of St. Paul, for fear of spoiling the
purity of their Ciceronian style ; and no more
cardinals— at least in public — professing that all Kome
needed, to make a residence there delightful, was a
court full of ladies ! Nothing of all this after the
Council of Trent ! Rome abjured sack, and took to
living cleanl3\ Thenceforward at least its priests were
priestly. Very many of them had priestly attainments
in large abundance. Some of them had priestly
virtues. But all had priestly vices.
Thenceforward the preservation, protection, and
security of the sacerdotal caste, its power, its pelf, and
its privileges, were the true objects for which the
Church existed. No longer seeking to manage and
rule the w'orld, except by underhand means, and for
secondary aims, it turned all its efforts " to the greater
glory of God." And this was perfectly understood by
every tonsured head, from that which wore the tiara to
that of the miserablest barefoot Cordelier, who worked
for the good cause at the lowest base of the social
pyramid, to mean exclusively the greater power,
wealth, and dignit}- of the sacerdotal caste. The great
object of the Church's life thenceforward was to live.
PROTESTANT PRINCIPLES. 15
Bad as the Mediaeval Church had been, and grossly
worldly as had been its rude efibrts to manage and
govern the rude world around it, still it was in those
ages a portion of the human famil}- ; it was the
peoj)le's Church ; was often the people's friend, ally,
teacher, and consoler ; and during more than one long
period had contributed to advance rather than impede
the onward march of mankind. Not till the epoch in
question did it become clear, that the interests of the
Church and the truest interests of humanit}^ were at
variance. Not till then was it clearly understood that
lay and clerical was to be thenceforth a relationship in-
volving hostility. But such has been in reality the state
of things between the Church and the world ever since
Rome succeeded, after the close of the gi'eat drawn battle
between her and the Reformation, in establishing that
restoration of her authority over the provinces remain-
ing to her which has been spoken of above.
The causes of this new and definite relationship
between the Church and mankind, — between the Shep-
herd and the sheep — are not far to seek, nor difficult
to be understood. It has been well remarked, that the
great leaders of the Reformation, who succeeded in
stripping Rome of so much of her territory, and who,
when she escaped from them with the rest safe, as she
hoped, left the arrow in her wound, which will at last
prove finally fatal to her, were very far from being
fully aware of the whole force and significancy of the
change they hud effected, and of the consequences
wliich were necessarily to result from it. ANliile earn-
estly engaged in asserting and maintaining certain
theological doctrines, they did jiot ])erceive tliat the
j)rinciples invoked by them in support of tlicse were
equally applicable to the overturning of lay despotism.
16 THE TIME.
But it was very soon discovered, and that by despotic
rulers and their counsellors quite as quickly as by their
subjects, that "Protestantism" meant civil no less
than spiritual liberty. No monarch, who ever wielded
sceptre, would have been less disposed to admit the
truth of this, than our Henry VIII., or his high-
handed, though Protestant, daughter. But the moral
causes that were put into action, worked on to their
inevitable consequences despite the power of kings and
their policy ; and in the next reign, " the British
Solomon " began to perceive the fact, — to his ex-
treme dismay and unending trouble. But in England
the great conquest was achieved. And Englishmen
held fast to their Protestantism with an unanimity of
determination and tenacity, which zeal for mere
doctrinal truths, however sincere, would not have
sufficed to inspire and sustain. " No Bishop, no King ! "
said the British Solomon, with all the sagacity inspired
by the unerring instinct of self-preservation. And he
kept his bishops. For Englishmen, in accordance
with their wonted habit of taking a century or two to
bring about a revolution quietly and safely, instead of
convulsing the body social, and risking the loss of all
the progress made, by endeavouring to effect their
revolutions at a stroke, like some other nations — the
Englishmen of the age of James, contented themselves
with securing beyond the reach of all danger those
fundamental principles, which have ever since been
killing Church autliority by inches, and in the mean
time troubled themselves little about the illogical
inconsistencies in their social system, which had to
result in praemunire statutes, and diocesan chapters
reluctantly electing doubtfully orthodox bishops at the
bidding of heterodox ministers. But even the illogical
CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 17
half-and-half protestantism adopted by our own Befor-
mation, with a view of rendering possible its com-
bination with high right-divine doctrines of civil
government, has by its indefeasible progressive virtue
placed English liberties whei-e they are. And it has
at the same time by the inconsistencies and incoheren-
cies involved in its incompleteness, dragged our Church
from its untenable position into the maze of contra-
dictions, falsehoods, difficulties, and absurdities, which
crop out in schisms between liturgy and articles ;
in bishops elected by mixed action of divine inspiration
and conge d'elire ; in clergy, punishable at common
law for denying their sacramental or other functions
according to the strict requirement of the canon they
are bound to obey ; in parish priests hooted from their
churches, because they refuse to conform to the popular
taste and feeling in matters, with which the popular
taste and feeling have, according to the theory and
constitution of their Church, not the slightest right
to interfere ; and in every variety of social dead-lock,
in which, from the inherent falseness of the position,
tliose of tlie conteiuling parties wlio have most of
common-sense and reason on tlicir side are most
wrong legally; and those whose legal position is most
unattacka]>ly correct, arc; in most glaring opposition
to reason and common-sense.
All this Protestantism, bursting tlio old bottles into
wliich it was poured, lias inevitably brought about, even
when admitted in the maimed and imperfect ccmdition,
in wJiich Knghind first received if. The des])()tic
sovereigns of continental nations would risk no alliance
with a princijde so surely i)regnant with the germs of
freedom. " I'uris is well worth a mass !" cried frank,
light-minded Henry IV. And though it was not the
IS THE TIME.
way with saturnine self-contained Charles V. to talk in
such off-hand and imprudent fashion, it may be easily
understood, that his insistance for the holding of a
council (from which he anticipated a very different
result from that which fell out) ; his "Interim" code of
provisional faith and religion, and his reverence for
a pontiff, whom at need he imprisoned in his own
fortress, and whose city he sacked ; were prompted by
a similar deeply rooted persuasion.
Protestantism, then, was clearly the common enemy
of both civil and spiritual despotism ; and the natural
result of the discovery was alliance between both those
enemies of mankind. The friendship growing out of
these motives, and working to this end, was of course
pernicious and debasing to both the parties concerned.
But the demoralising and degrading effects of it were
necessarily more fatally felt by the Church. To assume
the position thus made for it, the Church had more
visibly, notoriously, and scandalously to abandon all
its proper business and functions as a Church. Lay
princes spotted their ermine all over with stains of
falsehood and untrue pretence. But the apostolical
successor of St. Peter became in all his essence a living
lie, and the grossest of sham priests, as the inevitable
consequence of consenting to this " ca' me, ca' thee "
bargain with despots. No pages in the history of
mankind are fouler or more revolting to the moral
sense than those which record the prostitution of
Church influences, under the pressure of this unhal-
lowed bargain, to purposes of secular police, and the
maintenance of what absolute rulers term " order."
And nothing save the deplorable familiarity of the
spectacle, which has at length so depraved tlie moral
sense of the masses of mankind as to lead them to
CHUECH AND STATE. 19
consider the arrangement as a matter of course, could
have induced so many generations to tolerate the
monstrous hypocrisy in either party to this Churcli-
and -State-mutual-support-association. Nothing else
could have blinded them to the truly incalculable injury
done to mankind by that conversion of religion from a
life-elixir into a poison, which necessarily results from
thus officialising it, and allying it with the natural
enemy of all men's best secular hopes and interests.
This was the position into which the Church fell,
after its fight for life with the principles of the Kefor-
mation ; when monarchs had become aware that those
principles were likely to prove as dangerous to them
as to Home. And it is the utter incapacity for any
good purpose, and the activity for fatally evil purposes
alone, of a Church occupying such a position, which
justifies the assertion that Rome in her latter days of
comparative decency and respectability has been farther
from all possibility of discharging the duties and
functions of a Church than she was even in the pre-
vious ages of a hierarchy more grossly and scandalously
unclerical.
The learned historian I have already quoted thinks *
that the observation which commonly " ascribes to the
principle of the Catholic religion a peculiar connexion,
a natural sympathy with the monarchical or aristo-
cratical forms of government," is unlonndid, inasmucli
as the real fact is, that "Catholicism always attached
itself to the side on which it found its firmest prop and
most powerful ally ; " and that " this religious system
has no inherent or necessary affinity to one form of
government more than to another." It is true uu-
* Ranke, lliat. of the Popes, Auatiu's translation, vol. ii. p. 135.
02
20 THE TIME.
qucstionaljly, as tlie writer lias shown by sundry
instances, that the Church lias always attached itself
to whatever appeared to promise it the firmest prop
and most available support. It is true that the Popes
have ever been ready to play fast and loose with their
monarchical allies, to avail themselves of popular
passions whenever their own sails could be set so as to
be filled by the breath of them, and to play off, as occa-
sion offered, democratic resistance against sovereigns
disposed to be recalcitrant against Church authority.
But I do not think that all this is at all incompatible
with the opinion that the Catholic religion has a pecu-
liar connexion and natural sympathy with monarchical
and despotic forms of government. Notwithstanding
the instances cited by the historian, and others which
might be adduced, in which the Church has made use
of popular interests and passions for the punishment
and coercion of unsubservient monarchs, the great and
lasting alliances of the Church have always been with
sovereigns, and have been close and intimate in pro-
portion to the absoluteness of those sovereigns'
dominion.
How indeed could it be otherwise ? What alliance
or sympathy is possible between liberty in any shape
and a power whose first and all-important demand is
plenary, unconditional, unquestioning submission and
self-abnegation ? Is the complete j)rostration of the
soul under the yoke of absolute authority a likely pre-
paration for, or accompaniment of, civil liberty ? Where
blind submission, utter annihilation of the will to such
a point that the obedience rendered to the will of
another is that of unreasoning matter, " perinde ac
cadaver," as the celebrated Jesuit formula expresses
it : — where such submission is deemed the most valu-
ALLIANCE OF CATHOLICISil WITH DESPOTISM. 21
able of virtues, is any species of freedom likely to find
encouragement or toleration ? Is much liberty likely
to be allowed to the body by those who enslave the
soul ? Or, if it were, would the liberty so allowed be
fruitful or beneficent to the possessor of it ? "Idem
velle et idem nolle, id demum firma amicitia est," as
the historian * tells us. And despot priest and despot
king demand the same thing from humanity, — sub-
mission and obedience.
But the natural alliance between lay and spiritual
despotism failed, as was to have been expected, from
the peculiar nature of the Church claims, in rendering
the understanding between the two powers an easily
adjusted one : nor has the wrangle between them over
the rights filched from mankind ever ceased to the
present hour. In the years immediately" succeeding
the closing of the Council, the quarrel was especially
active, as was to have been expected. The reinvigo-
rated Church pitched the note of its claims in the
liighest key. Civil rulers were more awake than they
had been in less thinking times to the ultimate results
of the demands made upon them by the spiritual
power ; yet, at the same time, an increasingly clear
comprehension of tlie inevitably liberalising tendencies
of Protestantism Avarned tliem of the expediency of not
breaking with Home entirely.
Tiiere were other speciiil circumstances in the
situation of Europe which led to the assumption of an
unusually liigh tone on the part of the Popes at tlie
close of the sixteenth and opening of the seventeentli
centuries. The starting in Englmnl of an anomalous
system of lay Popeship, produced (English fashion) by
♦ Sallust. Catiline.
22 THE TIME.
the working of practical expediency in utter contempt
of logical consistency, urged Romish casuists to the
adoption, on paper, of anti-monarchical principles.
Those audaciously absurd islanders (for such they must
have appeared to logical Rome) insisted on having a
monarch by right divine, while refusing all allegiance
to tlie only power which could impart such a right to
royalty. They invented for themselves an apostolic
Church, which utterly refused all submission to the
sole authority whose claims to infallibility must indis-
putably be the best, supposing infallibility to be extant
on earth : and yet, if it did not absolutely claim for
itself infallibility in theory, acted towards its laity in a
manner which nothing short of the possession of it
could justify or render decently consistent. A theory
so outrageous, or rather a practice so in defiance of all
theory, irritated Rome into a strange and most un-
natural temporary alliance with the most advanced
democratic doctrines. And the most high-church
Catholic doctors wrote and preached that the civil
power had no claim to exist by right divine in any
case ; that the sovereign derived his power solely from
the will of the people, avIio possessed an indefeasible
right to place as monarch over them any ruler, save
one who should he ohjectionaUe to the only potver really
existing hy right divine — the Holy See !
Then again in France, the necessity v/hich the
Church had been under of removing a rebellious
monarch in the person of Henry III., and the acces-
sion of an heretical one in the person of Henry IV.,
were further motives for the propagation of doctrines
so " dangerous " and subversive. And the then
modern militia of the Church, the comparatively
recent Order of Jesus, supplied exactly the kind of men
OPINIOX OF EANKE. 23
fitted for the management of such perilous weapons.
In Spain, Philip III., a monarch after Rome's own
heart, was content to tolerate her assumption of a
position so fatal to the authority and independence of
princes, by the aid it lent him for the nonce in his
intrigues with the French high-catholic leaguers
against Henry IV.
" Had the Popes succeeded at this moment," saj'S
Ranke,* " they would have achieved for ever the i^re-
dominancy of the Church over the State. They put
forward claims, and their adherents enounced opinions
and principles, which threatened kingdoms and states
both with internal convulsions and with the loss of
independence." The claims and doctrines of Rome
did unquestionably threaten all this and more besides.
But it is dithcult for an Englishman to agree with the
historian in thinking, that the success of tlie Popes in
their attempt at that crisis would have achieved "/or
ever," or even for a long period, the predominancy of
the Cliurcli over the State. The principles main-
tained contained in them a germ equally fatal to
spiritual as to temporal despotism. They are in
flagrant opposition to the eternal principles on which
the human soul has been created. And nature cannot
bo "put down." However violent and vigorous the
" furca " of despotic power, " tamcn usque recurrat."
The world has seen no example of a people in the
enjoyment of civil liberty effectually priest ridden.
Even in Ireland, which might seem to furnish the
nearest approach to a specimen of such a phenomenon,
the influence of Rome can only manifest itself by an
increasingly hopeless struggle to combat the intel-
ligence by the ignorance of the country.
• Op. cit., vol. ii. IP. 187.
21. THE TIME.
INIay it not rather be argued, that, had the Popes at
that crisis succeeded in establishing their claims to
so-called spiritual supremac}^ at the cost of establish-
ing also tlie indefeasible right of nations to the choice
of their rulers, and the derivation of all sovereign
power from the popular will, the result would have been
a very much more rapid arrival at emancipation from
spiritual as well as civil despotism? Nor were the
Popes themselves, and the wiser of their counsellors,
blind to this danger, or willing to risk a definitive
breach with civil rulers, when it was possible to avoid
it ; notwithstanding the thorough-going violence of
those theologians who were tempted by the jjosition
and cliaracter of the Spanish king, or by a genuine
belief in the excellence and divine appointment of a
theocracy, to strike for unlimited supremacy over
mankind.
It was nothing less than this that Home deliberately
attempted at the Council of Trent.
That fateful assembly brought its sittings to a con-
clusion in 1503 — eighteen years after its first meeting
in 15-15. It was the last of the great series of
" oecumenical " councils, or general parliaments of the
universal Church, for the decision and settlement of
the articles of a Christian man's faith. No council
was ever held that, with any degree of accuracy, was
entitled to assume the lofty designation, and put for-
ward the mighty pretensions thus set forth. Less and
less as the ages went by, did the reality of the councils
correspond with their professions ; and least of all
could the Council of Trent lay claim either to its
name or to any capability of performing the task for
which it professed to have been called together. The
earhest councils could be termed " oecumenical " only
COUNCIL OF TEEXT. 25
by ignoring the existence of that portion of the human
race which had not embraced Christianity. And the
hitest of them coukl pretend to such a character onlj''
by exchidiug from the Catholic idea of the habitable
world not only the unchristian nations, but the unor-
thodox and protesting parts of Christendom. Nor
was the popidar voice at any time sufficiently authori-
tative in the appointment and promotion of priests and
bishops, to justify an assembly of the latter in con-
sidering themselves a representative parliament of the
entire Church. At the date of the Council of Trent
the sacerdotal portion of the Church, which the council
did in some imperfect sort represent, was not only
separated by a broad indelible line from the lay
element of it, which remained wholly unrepresented,
but was to a great degree hostile and antagonistic to it.
Again, with regard to the business for which these
general meetings professed to be called together, if it
may be conceded that the councils held during the
first centuries of the Church were in truth for the
most part occupied with debates of a purely theological
nature, with a view to deciding between opposing doc-
trines on tlioir own intrinsic merits, at Trent the cares
of the fathers of the Church had become lowered to
the more nnindane consideration of the scheme of
doctrine, which it was necessary to impose on tiie lait}^
for the purpose of preserving ecclesiastical power and
position.
Nevertlieless, the Council of Trent was one of the
greatest events of that eventful sixteenth century. As
the last council for three Innuh-ed years, iiiid in all
l)r(jbability the last the world will ever see, it fixed and
(hfined the doctrines and pretensions of the Church
irrevocably ; it petrified into immutable rigidity mucli
2G THE TIME.
tliat for want of definition had previously been plastic
and uncertain ; it was to the Church the burning of
lier ships, and cutting off of all possible retreat from
the positions then assumed. The_ Catholic faith must
remain such as it was stamped by tlie indelible impress
of that council ; for such is the penalty of the assump-
tion of infallibility.
The net results of the eighteen years of the council's
labours were extremely different from what a very
large, and the most enlightened portion of the Church
had expected and hoped. Yet to us, who are enabled
to take a synoptical view of the circumstances under
which it was held, it appears that the issue was
precisely such as might have been predicted, and that
it could not have fallen out otherwise. The council
was called for the healing of the wounds of the Church,
for the removal of those abuses which had driven into
schism so large a part of Christendom, for conciliation
and reformation. It came together for this purpose,
and when it separated, it had irrevocably asserted every
objectionable point of doctrine, and had rendered all
hope of gathering the schismatic communions again
into the pale of the Church impossible. And this
was the case, and could not have been otherwise,
because each one of those decisions, which irrevocably
bound the Church to some point of doctrine, destined
ultimatel}^ to be fatal to it, was necessary to the prime
object, which the assembled fathers had in view. This
object was the maintenance of ecclesiastical power ; —
the maintenance of it in its entiret3% it must be
remembered, not only against the rebellious and self-
asserting spirit of human intelligence, but also against
the jealousies of civil rulers. The first had already
vigorously entered on the path which could lead to no
JUSTIFICATION BY WOEKS. 27
other goal tlian the utter renunciation of authoritj' in
matters of faith. The second were becoming more and
more awake to the. fact, that ecclesiastical pretensions
and principles tended not only to encroach on their
own authority, but to render them mere puppets in the
hands of the Church. All the complicated struggles,
and clash of parties and interests, which made up the
sum of work transacted by the Tridentine assembly,
when traced to the motives which animated them, will
be found to turn on these points. Even the disputes
apparently most purely theological in their character
derived their real importance from their bearing on the
means of preserving sacerdotal power. Why, in the
great and fiercely debated question of justification was
it impossible for the Church to yield an inch to the
ardent supporters of the doctrine of justification by
faith, important as they were by their numbers, and
respectable by tlieir blameless lives and enthusiastic
piety ? Tlie orthodox tenet of justification by " works "
was indispensably necessary to the Church. Sacer-
dotalism could not do without it, because the opposite
scheme tended to destroy the necessity, and in a great
measure tlie possibilit}', of priestly supervision and
regulation of men's lives. The faith of each human
soul, the amount and quality of it, its vigour, liveliness,
and fruitfulness, must needs remain a secret between
eacli man and his Creator; or, taking even the lowest
and most perfunctory view of it, must be received by
any infiniier into the matter on the simple statement
of the individual. But this would by no means answer
the purpose of the Komish priesthood. The require-
ment of visible and tangible " works " was absolutely-
necessary to thcni, and these works, it must be
observed, not such as appeared in the general teuoui'
28 THE TIME.
of a life, but such as could be counted, tariffed,
labelled, imposed at pleasure, or dispensed with by
j)riestly authority. What would become of penances,
indulgences, rosary-countings, dispensations, butter-
towers * and canonries founded out of the proceeds of
permits to eat eggs in Lontj if justification by faith
Avere to be admitted ?
In a similar sort all the decisions which the Church
fought for and succeeded in establishing were vitally
necessary to her system. Rome could not, and cannot
reform herself. Her scheme of doctrine has been too
skilfully and logically built up to admit of any bit being
knocked out of the edifice, without bringing down the
whole. Her premises are monstrous, but her conclu-
sions are so logically drawn from them, that no one of
them can be abandoned Avithout invalidating a whole
string of antecedent and consequent reasoning. And
these are the considerations which might have assured
any man who could see them, as we are able to see
them now, that the Trideutine Council must have come
to the issue it did.
But it is needful to guard ourselves against allowing
our appreciations of the men, who were engaged in
asserting and fighting for sacerdotal power, to be too
rigorously formed according to our estimate of their
aims. At the present point in the progress of man-
kind, it is easy for a mind of very ordinary calibre to
understand, that such a spiritual despotism as Rome
aimed at, and to so wonderful a degree succeeded in
establishing, must in accordance with the eternal laws
of man's constitution, be unmaintainable for a perma-
* Towers so called are still to be seen in more than one continental
city ; the fact that they were built with the proceeds of dispensations for
eating butter during fast times, being commemorated by the designatioa.
CLAIMS OF EOME. 29
nency by any conceivable means, and deadly to the
moral nature both of the exerciser and the victim of
it, as long as it is maintained. But minds of a high
order were unable to perceive this truth at the time in
question. Men, great and good in their generation,
conscientiously believed that it was best and safest for
the human race to be ruled with " flock-like " docility
by the pastoral staff of infallible shepherds. The
favourite comparison of the Church to the guiding and
ruling soul, and of the laity to the gross bod}-, whose
destiny and duty it is to be governed by it, — a meta-
phor which recurs again and again in the polemical
wi'itings of the seventeenth century, — was urged in all
good faith by men fully persuaded of the aj)positeness
and stringency of the parallel. Pretensions to uni-
versal and absolute sovereignty by the sacerdotal caste,
over all lay men and things, were put forward with a
perfectly honest persuasion of the divine authority for
the claim, and an entire self-confidence in the capa-
bility of undertaking it to the advantage of mankind.
In this persuasion and in these claims Rome was, as
ever, logical. Admit her fundamental positions, and
her claim to rule the world must also be admitted as
well-founded. Her pretensions accordingly have never
varied. Her claim to universal sovereignty may have
been allowed to fall into abeyance ; it has never been
al)and<>ned. But intelligildy enough it was urged with
especial openness, dircftnoss, and pertinacity wlien,
lifter ft period, during which the Churcli had well nigh
lost her power for want of using it, her claims were
anew formulised, enunciated, and set forth l)y tlic
decision of the great council, winch, on being ruih'ly
wakened from her slumbers, slie had called to ascertain
her rights and position. Never did liomc put forward
30 THE TIME.
higher chums, nnd assert them more directly and dis-
tinctly, than during the generations which immediately
followed the closing of the Council of Trent. Her acts
indeed had been more high-handed and violent in the
rude old times, when unquestioning nations and mo-
narchs could be terrified into submission by awful
denunciations, and threats backed up from time to
time by some well-timed miracle, or unmistakeable
manifestation of the divine wrath. But not even in
the days of a Gregory VII., or an Innocent III., had
sacerdotalism ever theorised so audaciously, or argu-
mentatively asserted pretensions so entirely subversive
of every shade of civil liberty, as it did, when basing
its claims on the doctrines newly and definitively esta-
blished by the last oecumenical council.
But in the assertion of such claims Home was, as
it has been remarked, as ever strictly logical. The
claims are monstrous, but they can only be shown to
be so, by altogether denying her first principles.
Admit these, and all she contends for must be ad-
mitted also. And it is very desirable that this should
be clearly understood and borne in mind.
I in no wise wish to interfere, she said, between the
civil ruler and his subjects in matters which do not
concern me ; but I must be supreme in all such as do.
For the spiritual interests of mankind, it will be ad-
mitted, are paramount. Now, I alone, as by admitted
hypothesis, have infallible knowledge of what these
interests are, and of the manner in which they may be
best promoted. None therefore, save myself, can be
the judge of the question what matters do, and what
do not, concern me. For example, I meddle not with
the right of any ruler to levy taxes on his people ; but
only claim the privilege of suspending the exercise of
ECCLESIASTICAL CLAIMS. 31
that right, in cases where the sovereign would use his
resources in a manner calculated to injure me or my
friends. Again, I interfere not with the ohedieuce due
from the subject to the civil power, except when the
latter commands what is directly or indirectly preju-
dicial to the cause and interests of religion. In a
word, I meddle with human conduct only to enforce
the will of God. Do you not admit that tliat will
ought to be enforced ? And you have already admitted
that I alone know with certain knowledge what that
will is.
Who can wonder at ecclesiastical " encroachments "
under such a system ? Who does not see rather, that
there can be no such thing as encroachments ill the
prosecution of such claims ? that the entire control of
human life must pass into the hands of a power so
armed and privileged ? Who does not see the futility
of attempting to divide the temporal from the spiritual,
and to hedge off a part of human affairs with which
religion has nothing to do ? Who does not see that
all the wretched cobweb work of technicalities about
temporal concerns, and spiritual concerns, and " mixed "
concerns (!) are the results of compromise, dislionest
on both sides ? Mixed affairs, indeed ! What is the
part of human affairs, life, and conduct, which has no
relation to the eternal sanctions, and man's duty to
God ? Granted the existence of a power on earth, the
sole possessor of infallible and eternal trutli, tlie only
unerringly insi)ired expositor of G(jd's will, and in a
word, his appointed vicegerent, oitfiht not all lule,
government, and power over mankind to pass into the
hands of that power? Can any one admit the premises
and deny the conclusion? Surely, the sole, honest,
and logical alternative possible, in reply to the pre-
32 THE TIME.
tensions of a power putting forward such claims, is full
and unconditional submission, or a distinct denial of
the grounds of them. Admit them ; and how humhly
to an authority, which it would be no less absurd than
wicked to dispute. Or, reply to Rome's pontiff and
priests : " We wholly reject and discredit your creden-
tials. We deny that you have any knowledge of God,
His laws, and will, more or other in kind or quantity
than has been vouchsafed by Him to the rest of
mankind. We wholly disbelieve in your infallibility
on an}' subject whatever, and claim for ourselves an
equal power of ascertaining God's will, and conforming
our actions to it."
But despotic monarchs and their counsellors were
for very intelligible reasons unwilling to take either
of these courses. History perhaps may furnish an
example here and there of a royal fanatic almost
disposed to accept tlie former of the above stated
alternatives. But fortunately for mankind, such excess
of folly has been rare. Far rarer still, any specimen
of a ruler taking the otlier course. For the help of
the Church in keeping the yoke on men's necks had
become too necessary to be dispensed with. This is
the simple secret of the bargaining orthodoxy of " INIost
Catholic," " Most Christian " monarchs, and " eldest "
and other " sons of the Church." Such frank and
thorough-going Protestantism as that indicated above,
too clearly carried the germs with it of other besides
ecclesiastical liberties. Monarchs, therefore, preferred
allying themselves with the possessors of a power of
infinite force for the subjection of mankind, even
though the theory on which tliat power was based
necessarily involved claims destructive of their own
authority. For that other power, with which they
PRIEST AND DESPOT. 33
might have allied themselves, could not be bargained
with. Though making at the outset no claims com-
parable in audacity and magnitude to those of its
rival, it was a living principle, certain to march
onwards on the path pointed out by its own inalienable
nature, and drag all connected with it in the same
direction. With the second principle, despite the
logical inevitableness of its claim to entire supremacy,
compromise might be made. If monarchs wanted the
support of the Church, the Church was in no less
need of the assistance of monarchs. Antagonistic
pretensions miglit, therefore, admit of arrangement.
In the story to be told in the following pages, it will
be seen how the instinct of self-preservation, working
in lay and priestly despot alike, awoke in the nick of
time to avert the dangers to botli that were loominec
near, in the assertion by a powerful state of the true
principles of civil independence. Now quarrels and
mutual offences were suddenly forgotten, wlien the
spark, tliat might have kindled a conflagration in
which sacerdotal and kingly tyranny might both have
perished, had to be trodden out.
Rogues fell out; lionest men began to hope; but
the rogues were unhappily wise, and made up their
quarrel in time.
BOOK II.
THE MEN.
D 2
CHAPTER I.
Two lawyer Popes. — Similarities and contrasts. — Conscientious bigotry of
Paul V. — Effects of the policy of Clement VIII. — Change in the tone
of the Church. — Election and death of Leo XI. — Conclave for the
election of Paul V. — Secret history of the Conclaves. — "The Con-
clavisti." — Regulations for the holding of Conclaves. — Mode of pro-
ceeding. — Three methods of electing a Pope. — Difficulty of following
all the details of the story of a Conclave.
It was in a world teeming and seething with tlie
ideas and passions to which this great quarrel gave
rise, tliat the two men, who are the subjects of these
pages grew up to man's estate. They were just
emerging from boyhood when the council closed in
1503 : and were in the prime of manhood, when tlie
conflict of priestly pretensions with the claims of civil
authority resulted in the assassination of Henry III.,
and the fttruggles and difllculties arising out of
Henry IV.'s protestantism, and subsequent conver-
sion. The Venetian, conversant from his early years
with most of tlie men of mark among the rising genera-
tion of patrician politicians, wlio were already begin-
ning to perceive the goal to which priestly ambition
was threatening to conduct mankind, grew to be, priest
and monk as he was, the most redoubtable opponent of
lier encroachments, whom Rome liad ever yet liad to
deal with. The Roman, growing uj) nmiil llu; in-
fluences of the Apostolic Conit, imbibed an cxagge-
S9752
38 THE MEN.
rated idea even of the most exaggerated theories pre-
vailing in Eome's high i^hices.
Camillo Borghese, afterwards Pope Paul V., born
in the seventh j-ear of the Council of Trent, was
in his eleventh year when it came to a conclusion,
and in his fortieth when his predecessor,* Cle-
ment YIII., ascended the papal throne. There was
a singular similarity in the antecedents of these two
Popes. Both were the sons of distinguished lawyers.
Both their fathers, Tuscans alike, had been exiles
from their native cities — Aldobrandino, the father of
Clement VIII., from Florence, and Borghese, from
Siena. Both had been driven into exile by the
tyranny of the Medici. Both the fathers had found
an asylum at Ptome, both had been successful in their
careers, and both had destined their sons to run in the
same path. Both Popes were, as the circumstances
of the Church had compelled the Popes of that period
to become, men of respectable private life, given to
devotional practices, good and zealous churchmen,
anxious above all else for the exaltation and prosjjerity
of the Church. But it is difficult to imagine two men
more strongly contrasted within the limits of the above
general similarities.
Native diversity of character may of course avail to
set aside all the influences of similarity of position
and circumstances. But in the case of these two
Popes, there was a difference in their careers, similar
as they were in their general outline, which seems to
correspond very intelligibly with the different use they
made of supreme power. Cii'cumstances had thrown
* Notaccnrately bis immediate predecessor. Leo XI., a Medici, comes in
the list of popes between them ; but he lived only twenty-six days after
his elect iou.
CLEMENT YIII. 39
Ippolito Aldobrandini into the world of statesmansliip.
Cardinal Alessandro Farnese had constituted himself
his patron at an early age ; he had been nuncio in
Poland, and had had opportunities there of becoming
favourably known to the different members of the
house of Austria. His legal career therefore had been
of so enlarged a character as to have opened to him
wider views of men and things, than were accessible
to a mere member of the Roman Curia. lie had seen
the world, and mixed with the diplomatists of Europe ;
thus leading for fifty-six years a life calculated, if not
to seiwe as a desirable preparation for the exercise of
a supreme bishopric of souls, yet to supply a not
wholly inefficient education for a sovereign prince.
Clement VIII. accordingly was an eminently politic
Tope, moderate in his conduct, though as anxiously
bent as any Pontiff in thef series on the maintenance
and aggrandisement of the power and dignity of the
Church ; cautious to a fault ; possessed of a very com-
petent knowledge of the general state and tendencies
of the various members of the European family ; and
comprehending almost as well as a lay statesman
might liave done, what was possible and what was not
possible to be achieved towards establishing ecclesias-
tical supremacy.
The legal career and studies of Camillo Borghese
had on the contrary been of a nature to i)roduce a
character of most diametrically opposite disposition.
'J'he experience mankind has liad of lawyer-priests has
not been such as to lead thorn to consider the combi-
nation a favourable one. Tlic study and administra-
tion of human law, above all, of such law as that of
tbo Roman (y'nria, is not calculated to foster tbe
qualities that should go to the formation of the
40 THE MEN.
character of an ideal Christian priest. And the
ordinary characteristics of Rome's actual priesthood
are as little adapted to qualify the mind for an
enlightened and large comprehension of the principles
and practice of law. But the law studies and practice
of Borghese had been of such a sort as to i^roduce
the evils alluded to in their greatest intensity ; and
above all to disqualify him for the exercise of supreme
power. His life had passed in the laborious seclusion
of a hardworldng lawyer, magistrate, and lastly in-
quisitor. He was raised to tlie papacy because he had
no political enemies. And he had no political enemies,
because he was unknown to the political world of
Europe. He had studied the position, pretensions,
and possibilities of the Church only in the books and
writings, which form the arsenal of Rome's weapons
and claims. From them he had imbibed the most
exaggerated ideas of the papal rights and power. And
his only notion of the duty of a Pope was to assert
and enforce these pretensions undeterred by any con-
sideration of expediency. A narrow, hard, pedantic,
despotic-minded, obstinate, and strongly conscientious
man, he ascended the papal throne with a single-
hearted determination to perform the duty thus placed
before him. "Wholly ignorant of the state and tenden-
cies of the public mind of Europe, and of all those
circumstances of the various states, which taught the
wiser Popes when to insist and when to temporise, he
recognised no rule of conduct save that deduced from
the writings in which Rome had registered her own
notions of her own rights and claims. Had he even
possessed the knowledge, which might have taught a
more prudent and less absolute-minded man the ex-
pediency of moderation and caution, the character of
PAUL V. 41
his mind was such as to have prevented him from
availing himself of it. He looked into the hond, and
was determined to have the pound of flesh set down in
it. "What ! abstain from straining to the utmost every
power, and using every weapon he could lay his hand
on for the enforcement of this or that point of papal
claim ! Look into the books. Are they not clear on
the subject. What more is to be said ? Unmuzzle at
once every gun in the ecclesiastical arsenal ! Hurl
anathemas and excommunications broadcast, rather
than abate a jot or tolerate a delay in the satisfaction
of the letter of the law.
Such was the man who succeeded* in 1G05 to the
calm, cautious, politic, statesman-like Clement VIII.
The wise and judicious exercise of these qualities had
succeeded in placing the Court of Eome in a much safer
and more favourable position in Europe, than it had
occupied when Clement was elected. Between the.
violent high church and Spanish party, and the mode-
rate royalist party in France, he had had a diflicult
course to steer. The first had urged him to come to
no terms with Henry IV., even when that monarch
souglit reconciliation with the Holy See, but to insist
on his reprobation as a relapsed heretic, and as such,
incapable of absolution even by the Pontiff himself.
Spain, of course, was excessively anxious to perpetuate
the breach on which depended the success of all her
designs on France. And a very strong party in tlie
Sacred College and tlie Roman Curia ceased not to
urge the Pope in this direction. The second part}',
wbich from the time the King declared himself a
Catholic in l'>!):i, comprehended all the more moderate
• With the interval, as boa been explaiucd, of the twenty-aix days'
papacy of Leu XI.
43 THE MEN.
men in France, and indeed the bnlk and strength of
the nation, sought the King's absolution and recon-
ciliation with Rome in a manner that could hardly be
refused. Nevertheless, cautious Clement hesitated
long, and wlien he had made up his mind to grant the
absolution, did not venture on proposing the measure
openly in consistory ; but consulted each of the
Cardinals separately and privately ; and declared
when he had consulted them all, that two-thirds of
them were in favour of according the absolution.
There can be no doubt that Home acted in this
matter with sound policy. The ultra- Catholicism of
Spain, and the exclusive alliance with her, hampered
the independence of the Eoman Court, and by destroy-
ing the balance of power, placed it in a dangerous
position, without affording it any corresponding advan-
tages. Between the two great powers, now once again
both Catholic, the Pope was far freer and more
powerful, than Avliile dragged by Spain in the wake of
her own ambitious and dangerous designs. Reconciled
with the monarchy of France, there was no longer any
need for the Church to preach that perilous docti-ine of
the dependence of princes on the will of their subjects.
And we find accordingly that the pens and the pulpits
suddenly changed their tone. The Sorbonne dis-
covered — its rector having been sent into exile for his
unaccommodating consistency — that sovereigns 7cere,
after all, dependent on God alone ; that the opposite
doctrines were the invention of evil and perverse-
mmded men ; and Church and State were once again
able to shake hands over their mutual understanding,
on a point which each knew to be in the long run
necessary to both of them.
And all this Clement had accomplished, if not with-
LEO XI. 43
out giving umbrage to Spain, at least withont any-
open quarrel with so exemplary Catliolic a power.
But in the latter years of his papacy, when under the
pressure of advancing age he had suffered nearly all
power and authority to pass into the very capable
hands of his nephew, the Cardinal Aldobrandino, there
grew up a considerable amount of ill-feeling between
that minister and Spain. The election of the next
Pope became therefore a matter of extreme anxiety to
the two great Catholic powers. And when the Cardinal
de Medici, nearly related to the Queen of France, and
one of those members of the Sacred College on whose
election Spain had expressly placed a veto, was chosen
as Leo XI., great was the triumph and exultation of
the French. The news was received in France with
illuminations and cannon-firing.* But the French
triumph was cut short by the new Pope's death after a
reign of twenty-six days ; and the internecine struggle
of a new election had to recommence.
From this struggle, as we already know, Camillo
Borghese, the little known lawyer inquisitor, came
forth as Paul V. But it will be Avorth our while to
enter the secret precincts of the Conclave together
with the members of tlie Sacred College, and look on
at the jealously guarded mystery of making a Pope.
We have tlie means of doing tliis very completely
and satisfactorily. Tlic horror, alarm, and indignation
of those h(dy fathers, could they have imagined that
thf'ir proceedings within those liermetioally sealed
walls should one day be detailed for the amusement
and edification of heretics and barbarians, may be
partly guessed by the sympathetic reader ; more espe-
cially after he has read the story of their doings. Hero
* nist. de la Vie du ScigDCur du rie»siB.
44. THE MEN.
again, as at every turn, they are met by that detestable
invention of the printing press, inexliaustible in mis-
chief! Who couhl guess, when some hoary-headed
okl " Conclavista," whose mind had been saturated
during a hfe-time with the quintessence of subtlest
intrigues and intricately tortuous party manffiuvrings,
trusted his stored experience to a cautiously-guarded
manuscript destined for no eyes save those of the
inmost adepts of Rome's mysteries, — who could guess
that the secret was to be revealed, not only to the
outer world of the faithful, but to heretics, scoffers,
and enemies ! Oh, the fatal, fatal printing-press !
The press has done it all. There is the volume, a
little dumpty quarto, printed on shockingly bad paper
in the 3'ear 1GG7, at what place there is no word to
show. It is entitled, " Conclaves of the Roman
Pontiffs, as many as could be found, uj) to the present
time ; " and contains accounts of the elections of
thirty-two Popes, beginning with Clement V., in 1305,
and ending with Alexander VII., in 1G55. Some of
these very curious narratives are given Avith much
greater detail, and more intelligence than others.
]\ff st, but not all of them, appear to have been written
by " Conclavist!," fully entitled to add, " quorum pars
magna fui," to the title pages of their narrations.
These " Conclavisti " were the secretaries of the
Cardinals, who entered the Conclave, attended each
by two * of these indispensable functionaries. They
were men, the whole business of whose lives was to
become consummate masters of all the inconceivably
intricate labyrinth of intrigue, plotting, counter-plot-
ting, and false -seeming, which never ceasing in Rome,
* And sometimes by special indulgence in cases of Cardinals of vei-y
LigL rank, or very infirm, by three.
" CONCLAYISTI." 45
al^vays grew in energj' and activity as the probable
time of a papal election drew near, and culminated in
an intensity of dissimulating strategy in the Conclave.
On them devolved the greater part of the negotiations
and intercommunications carried on between their
Eminences during their seclusion. It was their busi-
ness to glide from cell to cell of the purple dignitaries,
— for these curious busy creatures, like bees choosing
their queen-bee, lived each in his cell, while perform-
ing the operation in their carefully-closed hive ; — to
outgeneral each other in spying and escaping from
spies ; — to let no smallest indication of a new breach
between allies, or alliance between recent opponents,
of a freshly-hatched scheme, or meditated treachery
escape them ; — and generally to do any work in the
great mutual deception prize-match, Avhich was too
dii-ty for the dignity of j)urple Eminences to be seen
doing themselves.
Fortunately, one of the fullest and most dramatic of
these extraordinary narratives is that of the Conclave
which made our Camillo Borghese, Pope Paul V., and
the story of it is well worth our examination. But for
the right understanding of this, it is necessary to
preface it by a few words explanatory of the nature of
the Conclave, and of the method of its proceedings.
An anti-popular spirit, despite tlie alleged demo-
cratical principles of a system which excludes the
liumblcst born niiiii from none of its high places,
necessarily characterises the tendencies of a power
wliose leading object is to exact unbounded sub-
mission. This spirit liad already abusively excluded,
not only the people, but also the rank and fde of the
sacerdotal order from nil voice in tlio election of the
supreme Pontiffs, and had placed in the hands of the
46 THE MEN.
Cardinals this all -important privilege ; when in the
latter part of the thirteenth century, Gregory X.
regularised in the Council of Lyons the method of
proceeding to a canonical election. The Conclave, or
shutting up the Cardinals in strictly guarded seclusion
was then instituted. They were bound to enter into
Conclave not later than ten days after the death of the
Lite Pope. Absent members of the Sacred College were
not to be waited for. The place of Conclave was to be
a chamber of the papal palace. All access, either
personal, or by writing, or communication of any kind,
was prohibited. Each was to have but one domestic.
Their food was to be admitted through an aperture
too small to allow of the passage of a human being.
Each article was to be examined to preclude the
possibility of any writings being clandestinely con-
veyed with it into the interior of the assembly. If
they could come to no election in three days, their
food was to consist for a further period of five days of
one dish onlj-. After that, only bread and wine were
to be allowed. And all contravention of these rules
subjected the offender, be his rank or position what it
might, to excommunication i2)so facto, to infam}", and
to the forfeiture of any office or estate he might hold
under any church in Christendom. Any undertaking,
promise, or agreement, having reference to the vote of
the electors was declared null ; and if it had been
made under oath, the oath was abrogated.*
But the rigour of these regulations, as may easily
be supposed, soon fell partially into desuetude. The
strict seclusion of the Conclave was, however, as it
still is, maintained. When an election was to take
* See Milinan's Hist, of Latin Christianity, vol. t. p. 92.
CLOSING OP THE CONCLAVE. 47
place, the Cardinals proceeded with much ceremony
to the Vatican on the eleventh day after the Pope's
death. A range of small cells constructed of planks,
and equal in number to that of the Cardinals, was con-
structed in readiness for them along the galleries and
in the great hall of the Vatican. Their Eminences
fli-st proceeded to the Paoline chapel, where the bulls
regulating the holding of Conclaves were read, and an
exhortation to the strict observance of them delivered.
Then the cells were distributed by lot ; each Cardinal
took possession of that which fell to him, and his jirms
were erected over the door of it. The master of the
ceremonies then warned all present, that they should
not enter the Conclave, unless they were minded to
continue there until its close, be its duration what it
mir'ht : and their Eminences were then free to return
D
to their own palaces to dine if it so pleased them ; and
the Conclave chamber remained open to the visits of
the ambassadors and agents, and intriguers of all sorts,
until the third hour after sunset. The Cardinals, who
had availed themselves of the liberty of returning to
their homes, were bound to be back in their cells at
that hour ; the master of the ceremonies rang a bell
to warn visitors to retire ; the Conclave was closed,
materially as well as metaphorically ; for the doors
were walled up ; sentinels were placed by the marshal
of the Conclave to guard every avenue of access to
the Vatican, and the business in hand was begun.
These last hours of communication with the outer
world, dining which the privilege accorded to strangers
of remaining in tlie place of Conclave lasted, wero
ordinarily fruitl'iil in schemes and intrigues. And
more than one election has turned on negotiations
entered into at that last Uiomcnt. The persons who
48 THE MEN.
remained walled up with their Eminences, were two
Conclavists for each of tlieni, a sacristan and suh-
sacristan, a seci'etary and assistant secretary, a Jesuit
confessor, two physicians, a surgeon, two barbers, an
apothecary, five masters of the ceremonies, a mason, a
carpenter, and sixteen servants for the menial work.*
The election may be accomplished in either one of
three different manners. Firstly, by scrutiny, in which
each Cardinal places in a vase on the altar of the
Sistine chapel a billet containing his vote signed with
his n<ime. The ceremonies and precautions with which
this is done, and the votes afterwards examined by
those Cardinals elected to be scrutators, are most
minute, and carefully managed, so as to exclude the
possibility of error or fraud. For a canonical election
by scrutiny the votes of two-thirds of the number of
Cardinals present are requisite.
The second method is by compromise ; an expedient
resorted to occasionally when the Cardinals assembled
have found it impossible to ai'rive at an election ; and
have agreed to leave the absolute nomination of the
Pope to one or more of their number. This method
has fallen into desuetude, since Cardinal D'Ossat in
1314, having been appointed to settle the diiferences
of the assembly which had been found insoluble by
other means, cut the knot of the difficulty by forthwith
naming himself, sa3dng, " Ego sum Papa," which he
accordingly became by the name of John XXII.
The third mode of making a Pope is, — or rather
was, for this also has not been had recourse to in
modern times, — a very remarkable one. And much of
the tactics and play of the Conclave depended on
• Picard, Ceremonies religieuses, vol. i. p. 284.
ELECTION BY ADORATION. 49
it ; as will readil}' be understood, when it lias been
described. This third process was called an election
by " Inspiration," or by " Adoration." It consisted in
a number of Cardinals suddenly crying out, at some
moment, when the Conclave was united together,
" Cardinal is Pope." If this cry was echoed by
a sufficient number to make a canonical election, by
two-thirds of the Conclave that is, the thing was done.
The Pope was made. The theory of this curious pro-
ceeding of course was, that a sudden illumination by
the Spirit prompted the raisers of the cr}'^ in an
altogether irresistible and miraculous manner. The
real operation and meaning of the thing was this.
A number of Cardinals having concerted together, and
come, on the maturest consideration, to the conclusion
that they were strong enough to have a fair chance of
success, determined to risk everything, as Picard * says,
in the hope of carrying their point by a coup de main.
The chances of success rested in a great measure on
the suddenness and unexpectedness of the operation.
For all depended on a sufficient number of those who
were taken by surprise being led to join in the cry, by
tlie fear of the Pope being made witliout their having
a share in the making of Jjim. It will be easily under-
stood, that this fear held a very important part in all
the movements and play of the Conclave. If it was a
very desirable thing tluit the man, who was to be your
absolute superior and sovereign, and on whose will mU
that you most liope and all lluit you most fear was to
depend, should be conscious that liis elevation was in
part your work ; it was proportionably to be deprecated
that he sh(;uld know that you had bi.en his adversary.
• Hist. dcH CCi6uiou, V..1. i. p. 283.
50 THE MEN".
Here was n strong motive for joining in the sudden
" Inspiration " — " If the Pope be now made, I will be
one of those who make him." On the other hand, if
the attempt did not succeed, those who raised the cry,
and those who joined in it, placed themselves by tliis
open support of another, in the position of opponents
to the candidate who should eventuallj' be cliosen. It
will be seen at once that this Inspiration strategy
required the most delicate handling, and a very skilful
estimate of the men and circumstances to be dealt
with. The attempt of a party consciously not strong
enough to elect their own candidate — for if they were
strong enough they would do so by the regular way of
votes and scrutiny, — to carry him in this way, was a
very dangerous game. But at the same time, it was a
most difficult point for each individual of the party
taken b}' surprise to decide, on the spur of the moment,
whether he should join in it or abstain. The position
was very like that of the players of a certain game at
cards, in which success depends on exhibiting such an
amount of assurance as shall intimidate your adversary
into giving in at once, from fear of the worse penalties
which he will incur if, after standing out, it should
eventually be found that he is in reality the weaker.
It should be observed, moreover, that the fear lest
this manoeuvre should at any moment be unexpectedly
resorted to, and the precautions and watchfulness by
which it was attempted to provide against it, gave
occasion to a large and difficult part of the politics and
strategy of the Conclave.
AVith these explanations of " the rules of the game,"
we shall be in some degree able to understand the
intricate detail of moves and countermoves, resulting
in the election of Camillo Borghese to be l^ope Paul V.,
HOW POPES ARE MADE. 51
which the experienced and subtle old Conclavist has
given us, despite his oath to divulge nothing of what
passed in the secret prison-house of the Conclave.
To understand it in some degree, I have said, for a
very careful and attentive reading of the twenty-six
quarto pages, which contain the narrative of them, is
necessary for the full comprehension of all the moves
and the motives of them. And a nineteenth century
public would scarcely be gratified by a rejjroduction of
all the alliances and treacheries, and reasons for hatins:
and fearing each other of all these purple Princes of
the Church.
"SVe must be content with such an outline of the
circumstances which brought about the main result, as
can be made to convey an intelligible specimen of the
way in which Popes were made.
CHAPTER II.
The story of a Conclave.— That of Paul V. divided into four parties.—
Candidature of Cardinal Saoli. — First scrutiny. — Bellarniine put
forward. — Cardinal Montalto at supper. — Proposal to elect Cardinal
Camerino. — San Clemente proposed. — Formal exclusion of him by
Montalto's party.- — A well-devised move defeated. — Formal exclusion
of Cardinal Saoli. — Cardinal Tosco put forward. — Montalto's indeci-
sion. — He consents to vote for Tosco — That Cardinal all but elected. —
The slip between the cup and the lip. — 13ai-onius, his character. —
Prevents the election of Tosco. — Extraordinary scene in the Conclave.
— Two hostile camps in theSistineaiidPaoline chapels. — Negotiations
between tliem. — Strange scene in the Sistine chapel. — Proposal of
Cardinal Borghese. — Cardinal Joyeuse. — Scene in his cell. — Election
of Borghese. — Its consequences.
On the lltli of May, 1605, fifty-nine Cardinals went
into the Conclave. They were divided into no less
than four principal parties. The strongest seemed to
be that of Cardinal Aldobrandino, the nephew of the
last Pope,* and was composed of his uncle's " creatures."
This is the technical term for the Cardinals created by
a Pope. Of course there was always to a certain
extent a natural bond of union and sympathy between
the Cardinals made by the same Pope. And they
naturally gathered around tlie man, who had held the
place of favourite, Cardinal nephew, and j)rime minister,
during the time of their promotion. But the great
* In reality the last but one, as has Ijecn before explained. But Leo XI.
and his twenty-six days' papacy are of little significance.
PARTIES IX THE CONCLAVE. 53
and all but unlimited power which was always enjoyed
Ly a Cardinal nephew, rarely failed to excite against
him an immense amount of enmity and jealousy among
the older Cardinals of the creation of preceding Popes.
None in that position had ever possessed this authority
to a greater degi'ec, during at least the latter years of
the pontificate of Clement YIII., than the Cardinal
Aldobrandino, who was in many respects a very able
man. The creatures of former papacies were equally
naturally banded together in the Conclave against him.
The strength of the Cardinal Aldobrandino's party in
the present Conclave was estimated at twenty-six
votes.
Next in force came the independent party of his
opponents and enemies. They were chiefly under the
influence and lead of the Cardinal J\Iontalto, and
counted twenty-one votes.
Then there were thirdly and fourthly the Cardinals
wholly in the interest of the Court of Spain, and those
wholly in the interest of the Court of France. The
t(^tal number of votes, as we have seen, was fifty-nine.
( )f these, forty-seven have been already accounted for.
There remain twelve. And as the Conclavist tells us,
Ihougli without mentioning the numbers, that these
two parties were of eqtial numerical strength, we must
suppose them to command six votes each. The action
of the two great Catliolic powers in the Conclaves
f^'onerally was exerted to secure the exclusion of certain
possible candidates expressly obnoxious to them. And
II. much smaller number of devoted adlierents of course
-uflicod to attain this object, than would have availed
to secure tlie election of any given individual, 'i'he
number of votes necessary to make an election in the
Conclave in question was, it will be observed, fort}',
54 THE MEN.
that being the nearest possible approach to the requisite
majority of two-thirds.
It is clear therefore that if all the members of the
two strongest parties had remained obstinately true to
their colours, no election could be effected, even if the
strongest of them, that of Aldobrandino, could have
united to itself all the voices commanded by both
France and Spain — a consummation altogether out of the
question, inasmuch as any candidate acceptable to the
one power would be precisely the one whom the other
would be most desirous of excluding. But it is not to
be imagined, that there was ever any chance that all
the adherents of a party were perfectly staunch, and
to be trusted by its chief. Too great a number of
subsidiary motives influenced different individuals in
a vast variety of ways for this to be possible. One
man would wish a Pope of his party to be elected, but
not this or that particular individual, and if such a
result appeared probable he would desert his party to
avert it, more especially as he could do so without
detection ; unless it so happened that the scrutiny, in
which he did so, chanced to be a successful and final
one. For the papers containing the votes, though
signed, were so folded as to show at the first opening
of them only the name of the candidate for whom the
vote was given. And if the scrutiny of that voting
resulted in no election, the papers were burned at the
end of the Conclave without further examination.
Only after the successful voting, by which the Pope
was elected, were the papers containing the votes that
had accomplished tlie result, altogether unfolded so as
to let the names of the voters be known. It will be
readily imagined how tangled and vast a mass of
hypocrisies, false promises, and cross purposes, such a
CARDINAL SAOLI. 55
system, together witli all the variety of motives and
interests at work in those scarlet-hatted old heads,
must have occasioned.
The first move in the Conclave was an attempt on
the part of the allies to elect Cardinal Saoli, one of
their number. Cardinal Visconti, who belonged to
Aldobrandino's camp, had lately, it was known, felt
less well disposed towards his leader. And as Saoli
was his mother's cousin, he was easily induced to enter
warmly into the scheme for electing him, and suc-
ceeded in drawing several of the Aldobrandino nartv
with him. Moreover San Marcello, another of Aldo-
brandino's friends, though adhering to him firml}'' in
every other circumstance, had declared that he could
not vote against Saoli, because that Cardinal's brother,
when Doge of Genoa, had favoured the reception of
tlie San Marcello family as patricians of that republic.
Aldobrandino was very far from well at the time of
entering into Conclave. It was feared — and hoped —
tliat he could not have joined it. He would not give
up, however ; and went in with the rest ; but imme-
diately retired to bed in his cell.
Under these circumstances the friends of Saoli
tliought tliat there was a very good chance of carry-
ing his election by a sudden "Adoration " at the very
outset of tlie Conclave. But Cardinal Saoli himself
was unwilling to risk it. He was fully persuaded,
says the Conclavist, that Aldobrandino's illness would
compel liim to quit the Conclave ; in which case ho
would have been sure of his election by the ordinary
moans of voting. He was mistaken in his calculation ;
and lost a chance, which tlie Conclavist thinks would,
in all probaltility, liavc turned out successful, by his
timidity. Some wiiisper, however, of the projected
56 THE MEN".
step had readied Aldobrandiuo and his friends, and
kept them in great anxiety all the first day and night.
So much so that Cardinal Cesi went to him about ten
o'clock at night, and told him that he must get up,
ill as he was, and go round among their friends and
show himself. Had he not done so, the Conclavist
thinks that the attempt at " Adoration " would have
been made by Saoli's friends. The Aldobrandiuo
faction, however, " in order to give the opposite party
something to chew," as the Conclavist expresses it, in
the mean time, put about a rumour that very possibly
an " Adoration " of Cardinal Tosco, a favourite can-
didate of their own, would be attempted in the course
of the night ; and this had the effect of causing many
of the allies to quit their beds, and remain on the
alert.
The next morning, after mass said by the oldest
Caixlinal, Como, the Conclave proceeded to the first
scrutiu}', in wliich to the general surprise, fourteen
votes were given to Cardinal Bellarmine.
The only names in all the Conclave that have
^•etained any place in history, besides that of the suc-
cessful candidate, were the Cardinals Baronius, Bellar-
mine, and Barromeo. All three of them belonged to
the party of Aldobrandiuo. This unexpected result
of the scrutiny puzzled the majority of the assembly
exceedingly. The Conclave, says the Conclavist, was
all in the dark. For though Bellarmine was of the
Aldobrandiuo, or Clem.entine faction, that paiiy had
not thought of making him Pope. Though he was
much beloved, and his character stood high, still, as
our author remarks, his being a Jesuit, and being
known to be " delicate of conscience," did not recom-
mend him for the Papacy. The fact was, that the
BELLAEMINE. 57
notion of putting him forward had originated, not with
his own party, but with tliat of Montalto and the aUies.
Sforza was his relative by the' mother's side ; and to
Aquaviva, a nephew of the General of the Jesuits, his
quality of Jesuit Avas a recommendation. The plan
was originated by these two, who easily persuaded
several of their own party to join them, by the con-
siderations that as matters stood, there was no hope
of electing Saoli ; that it was certain that the elevation
of Bellarmine would not suit the views of Aldobraudino ;
and that let the matter turn either way, they could not
but be gainers, for if a sufficient number of his own
party joined them to elect him, they would have the
merit of having giving him the Papacy; and if, on the
other hand, the attempt failed, they would in all pro-
Ijiibility cause disunion among the Clementines, and
very likely obtain Bellarmine's support for their own
candidate Saoli. The Avhole of that day was spent in
the intrigues to which this unexpected move gave rise.
]3aronius was an intimate friend of Bellarmine, and was
known to have spoken with Barromeo, who was also
favourable to him, of the expediency of such an election,
though witliout any idea of realising it. Sfondrnto,
one of tlie knot of the allies, who had started the
candidature of Bellarmine, went to Baronius, and per-
suaded him to go, as on his own idea, to Aldobraudino
and point out to liim tliat if he and his friends would
vote for Bellarmine, he might be sure of sufficient
support from the i)arty of the allies to elect him.
Aldolirandino cautiously requested to know from Baro-
nius liis grounds for s\ich an opinion. To which the
hitter replied that he might trust liiui, as his informa-
tion was from a perfectly reliable source. Aldobraudino,
liowever, divining how mutters really stood, as soon
5S THE MEN".
as ever Baronius had left him sent Cardinal San
Giorgio to Bellarmine to assure him of his (Aldo-
brandino's) perfectly favourable disposition towards
him ; but at the same time to point out to him, that
this move in his favour was merely a trick of the other
party, set on foot with the hope of sowing division
among them ; and to beg of him not to play into their
hands, and be duped by lending any countenance to
their project. He, at the same time, sent two other
of the younger Cardinals round to all his adherents, to
warn them that the proposal of Bellarmine was onl}'' a
trick of the adversaries, and to advise them, " to
go to bed and pay no attention to any rumours on the
subject." All the Cardinals belonging to the monastic
orders were already astir, w^e are told, at the first
report of a possibility of the election of Bellarmine,
ready to exert themselves to the utmost to prevent the
choice of a Jesuit Pope.
Cardinal Sfondrato in the mean time, as soon as he
had sent Baronius to Aldobrandino, as has been seen,
liimself proceeded to the cell of Montalto, the leader
of his party, who was just sitting down to supper, and
told him that intrigues were on foot in the Conclave
for the election of Cardinal Como. The object of this
falsehood was, the Conclavist tells us, to prevent
jNIontalto from hurrying off to prevent the election of
Bellarmine, if any rumour of it should reach him.
But the precaution was needless, our historian assures
us, ** for Montalto, seduced by the sight of the good
things before him, replied, that they might intrigue
for any one they liked, for he did not mean for his part
to leave his supper." So Sfondrato left him ; but, on
returning to his colleagues in the attempt to elect
Bellarmine, found that Aldobrandino's vigilance and
SAN CLEMENTE. 59
activity liad put an end to all hopes of success. So
there was an end of the chance of a Jesuit ascending
St. Peter's throne; and of the first day of the Conclave.
The next move was another attempt on the part of
the allies to put forward Cardinal Camerino, who,
though one of themselves, was thought not to be
strongly objectionable to many of the other part}'.
Aldobrandino had a conference with Montalto on the
subject, and pretended to be desirous of inducing his
party to accept this new candidate. But Montalto was
not deceived by his professions. He saw that the
Clementines did not intend to allow the election of
Camerino ; and dropped the attempt ; — not, however,
without determining to avenge himself by opposing any
candidate of Aldobrandino to the utmost of his power.
Hitherto the active tentatives had been all on the
part of the allies. Aldobrandino and his friends had
as yet contented themselves with standing on the
defensive. But the real and earnest wish of the late
Cardinal's nephew and minister was to bring about
the election of Cardinal San Clemente, his intimate
friend and confidant. He had begun by securing the
co-operation of the French party in return for his
promise to insure the exclusion of the Cardinals
especially objected to by France. He had next
applied to the Spaniards ; and as San Clemente was
not among those whom they had orders to exclude,
they also pron)iscd their assistance. This seemed,
therefore, to offer a better chance of coming to an
election tlian any that had yet been proposed to tho
Conclave. I'ut, as it lias been seen, all the Clementines
iniited to all the French and all the Spaniards only
amounted to thirty-eight votes, — two short of the
number requisite. If, thisrefore, the allies hcdd firmly
CO THE MEN".
together, tliey could prevent the possibility of San
Clemente's election. And upon this occasion they not
only seemed inclined to do so, but not content with
that, succeeded in inducing Cardinal Sordi, one of the
French party, to break his engagement with Aldo-
brandino and join them. Thej'^ determined, moreover,
to take the violent step of openly and by solemn reso-
lution excluding San Clemente ; declaring frankly
that it was their determination not to vote for him —
a very strong and decisive measure, because the
Cardinals taking part in it having thus declared them-
selves hostile to San Clemente, were definitive^ bound
to struggle to the last against the election of a Pojie
in the jjerson of one whom they had already rendered
their enemy.
Aldobrandino therefore was extremely anxious to
avert this threatened measure ; and did succeed in
obtaining that it should be delayed for one day ; a
respite which he calculated on employing in putting
his adversaries on a false scent. ^Vhile still continuing
every effort to seduce some one or two voices from the
allied party, he caused it to be rumoured in the Con-
clave that he had abandoned the hope of electing San
Clemente, and was now intent on the election of
Cardinal Tosco, another of his adherents. With a
view to throw dust into the vigilant eyes around
him, he induced the Cardinal San Marcello, who had
not entered the Conclave in consequence of serious
illness, to come in.* The sick man was known to be
* How is this compatible with the strict prohibition of all .intercourse
with the world outside tlie Conclave ? The Conclavist states the fact
without observation. And we can only sujipose that the non-intercourse
assumed by so many ostentatious precautions, was no more a genuine reality
than so many other shams at Eome.
THIEF TO AVATCH A THIEF. 61
a very intimate friend of Cardinal Tosco. And Aldo-
brandino meant it to be supposed by every body that
San Marcello would never have thought of coming into
the Conclave in his state, were it not for the Jiurpose
of securing the election of his friend. Indeed, the
poor invalid was himself duped by Aldobrandino ; and
supposed that it was reallj^ to elect Tosco that he was
s6 urgently wanted. But if the sick man was deceived,
the IjTix-eyed watchfulness of the rest of the Conclave
was not. Indeed, the study of these prize-matches of
duplicity and cunning, in which the science of simu-
lation and dissimulation were carried to the most
polished pitch of perfection, would lead us to the con-
clusion that among masters of the craft, the arts of
defence were generally more than a match for those
of attack. The imceasing efforts to deceive seem
rarely to succeed. Unsleeping perpetual suspicion of
every word spoken and of every apparently insignificant
detail of conduct, joined to a life-long practice in the
knowledge, estimate, and calculation of all the little-
nesses, meannesses, selfishnesses, and hypocrisies of
liuman, and moi-e especially priestly, nature, sufficed
almost invariably to guard against the strategy of a
craft, every turn and double of which was familiar to
the objects of it. The open dealing of a honest man
might probably have thrown them out entirely.
The allies discovered that it was still San Clemente,
who was advancing to the Papacy under tlic mantle of
Iosco, as the Conclavist expresses it. They determined
therefore on the next day to proceed, as they had
threatened, to the open and avowed resolution of
excluding him. Tbis tliey accordingly did ; and our
Conclavist's account of the meeting licld for tlic pur-
pose gives us a dramatic little pcej) at Conclave life.
62 THE MEN.
The meeting was held in the cell of Cardinal
Bevilacqua, one of the less notable members of the
party ; and their Eminences were just about to begin
the business in hand, when two of the youngest
Cardinals of Aldobrandino's party, Pio and San
Cesareo, entered the cell, as if strolling in by chance
to visit its occupant. They had been sent on this
errand by Aldobrandino, in the hope that their unwel-
come presence might drive the allies assembled there
to put off the business they were engaged in, and thus
gain a little time, which he might be able to turn to
profit. The young intruders began joking and talking
on all sorts of irrelevant matters; but the veterans with
whom they had to deal were not to be beaten in that
manner. Visconti, Sforza, and Sfondrato turned away
together for a moment, and having rapidl}-- decided on
their course, returned to the general circle ; when
Visconti, addressing Pio and San Cesareo, said plainly
that they were there for the purpose of formally agree-
ing to the exclusion of Cardinal San Clemente ; and
that if it pleased their Eminences to remain, they
would at all events serve as witnesses of the declara-
tion about to be made. He then proceeded to declare
in his own name, and in that of all their friends, that
they bound themselves together not to elect San
Clemente. He rehearsed the names of the allies
agreeing in this resolution one by one. When he
named Montalto, San Cesareo interrupted him, saying,
" Nay, his Eminence of Montalto is present. Let him
speak for himself." — "No! no!" said Montalto, smiling;
" let Visconti be spokesman. I ratify all he says."
Cardinal Este, when Visconti came to his name, added,
" I confirm it; and only wish that I had a dozen votes
to make the exclusion more overwhelming." — " And
AN EXCLUSION. C3
now," said Visconti, when he had finished, " we may
go to bed." — " Ah ! we may !" said Sfondrato, turning
to leave the cell ; " and, your Eminences," he added,
looking towards Pio and San Cesareo, with a laugh as
he went, " may now go and elect a Pope if you can ! "
Bitter was Aldobrandino's anger and mortification
when his two emissaries returned and made their
report. He immediately collected all his own adher-
ents, among whom might now be counted most of the
French and Spanish supporters, to consider what was
next to be done. The first measure determined
on was to proceed to an exclusion of Cardinal
Saoli, yet more solemn and formal than that pro-
nounced by their adversaries against San Clemente
— a step which would seem to have been prompted
entirely by pique and anger ; as the election of Saoli
had already entirely failed, and there does not appear
any indication that the allies had any thoughts of
bringing him forward again. The meeting, however, to
the number of twenty-two, decreed the exclusion ;
and then, having taken the precaution of causing the
door and outside of the cell to be so guarded by their
Conclavists that there was no danger that a trick should
be played them such as they had played on the meeting
for the exclusion of San Clemente, they bound them-
selves by an agreement to give their votes unanimously
to any one of those then present whom Aldobrandino
shovild designate.
It was further determined that the whole strengtli of
the party should be exerted to elect Cardinal Tosco,
this time in earnest and not as a blind to other designs.
Tliis was a candidature, that seemed to offer far more
chances of success than any other Avhich had yet been
tried. He was not objected to by the rex)rcseututives
G-i THE MEN.
in the Council of either France or Spain. It was
known that liis election wouhl be agreeable both to the
Grand Duke of Tuscany and to the Duke of Savoy.
He was moreover by no means objectionable to many
of the party of the allies. The Cardinals d'Este and
Spondrato were both favourable to him; and even
Montalto had promised the Grand Duke that he would
give him his support, if he should be unable to elect
any one of his own party. In short, says the Con-
clavist, it seemed as if he had no opposing influences
against him, save those of a few scrupulous consciences,
— especially Baronius and one or two of his friends —
who objected to him that he was licentious in his con-
versation, and negligent of his pastoral duties, so much
so that having been for many years Bishop of Tivoli,
he had never once been near his see. But, as the
Conclavist remarks, such objections were nothing
against so large an amount of favour. Montalto, how-
ever, was by no means willing to concur at once in
Tosco's election. He still nourished hopes of elect-
ing some one of his own special adherents. He did
not however wish to exclude Tosco ; and contented
himself, therefore, with exacting a promise from the
Cardinals of his party that they would take no steps for
his election till the expiration of ten days, thinking
that this would give him time to try the chances of
his own special friends.
Having obtained this, Montalto had gone to bed on
the night of the loth tranquil on the subject of Tosco's
candidature, when he was suddenly waked by the
noise of Aldobrandino, accompanied by all his adherents
and the French and Spanish parties, coming into the
corridor, where he was urging them to hurry Tosco at
once into the chapel and try for an election by *' Adora-
A CRITICAL MOMENT. 65
tion." In this conjuncture those of the allies who
were favourable to Tosco hurried to Montalto to press
on him the immediate necessit}'^ of resolving on a line
of action. There was great probabilit}' that the "Adora-
tion " might succeed ; and in that case would it be
worth while for them to risk showing hostility to one
so likely to be Pope, merely to oppose an election to
which after all they had no strong dislike ? The allies
were gathered in the cell of Acquaviva, says the Con-
clavist, in great trepidation, urgently pressing Montalto
to come to a decision. He complained bitterly that
they were breaking their engagement to do nothing in
the matter of Tosco for ten days. In vain they pointed
out to him that there was no hope of his making a
Pope from among his own special adherents ; — that
they were all still willing to follow his lead, but that
by their present position of indecision at so critical a
moment they were only risking the election of a Pope
in spite of them, when it was in their power, without
any sacrifice of principle, by yielding gracefully to take
their share in the election and make the future Pontiff
their friend instead of their enemy. Those, however,
who thus argued, were the members of the party who
Ijad themselves no hope of or pretension to the Papacy.
'J'he three or four who among the party of tlie allies
liopod each that he miglit be the man, stood by, in the
words of our author, in icy silence, while the others
were thus warmly urging ]\lontalto, and by their
reserved and cold demeanour increased the irresolution
of Ills naturally slow and liesitating disposition. At
length the urgency of the case, and the approaching
voices of the crowd accompanying Aldobrandino, who
seemed on tlie point of proceeding to the chapel to
perform the " Adoration," produced symptoms of a
CO THE MEN.
mutiny among some of the followers of Montalto.
AVhat was the use, they said, of talking about ten clays
even if there were any prospect of doing anything at
the end of them, when the Pope would be made there
and tlien before their eyes in ten minutes. They
should yield to necessity, they said, and join in an act
they were unable to prevent. They could still have
prevented it, if every man of them had stood firm and
if each of them could have trusted all the rest. But
this was just what was impossible to them. And the
smallest defection was fatal. For only a voice or two
was wanting to make those intent on electing Tosco a
majority of the necessary amount.
Farnese and Sfondrato were standing at the door of
the cell, in which the rest of their colleagues had been
enacting the scene described. And when they heard
some voices of the party expressing their intentions as
above, they adopted the strong measure of going
instantly to Aldobrandino, where he stood in the midst
of his followers, and inviting him to a conference with
Montalto. The measure, it will be observed, was
suddenl}' adopted without any authorisation from that
Cardinal himself. Farnese and Sfondrato took each
an arm of the hostile chief, and led him to the cell
where Montalto and the allies were. Sfondrato took
upon himself to be spokesman. They all ought to
thank the Almighty, he said, who had providentially
led them to agree in so admirable an election. All
ouglit to join in it alike, and forget past animosities.
Montalto stood leaning against a table Avith downcast
eyes and strongly working features, in which the agony
of abandoning liis own hoj)es, and the bitterness of
yielding himself to the accomplishment of those of his
adversary were violently expressed. Concentrated
CARDINAL TOSCO. 67
rage contributed also to throw his mind off its balance;
for he felt that he had been betrayed by his friends.
He knew that if only they had all been true to their
promises and to each other the adversaries could not
have accomplished an election. He knew also that in
yielding thus tardily and reluctantly he at least should
have none of the merit of yielding in the eyes of the
new Pope. Those who had made his doing so necessary
might claim the merit of their defection ; but it was
too clear that the Pope to be thus elected, was elected
in his despite. In answer to Sfondrato's address, he
replied no word ; nor did he raise his eyes or turn to-
wards Aldobrandino ; but he silently put out his hand
to him. And they went forth together into the hall
where the crowd of Cardinals, now consisting of nearly
all the Conclave, were waiting to proceed to the chapel
for the "Adoration." For it is observable, that notwith-
standing the apparent union of the parties, the
Clementines, who had prevailed, did not deem it
advisable to trust to a scrutiny, but were still bent on
hurrying to the quicker and more open process of
" Adoration."
And now the election of Cardinal Tosco seemed
certain. Ho himself meanwhile was walking up and
down with the Cardinals San Giorgio and Hiatristain
in a distant part of the vast Vatican galleries. His
companions urged him to go with them at once to the
chapel. ]5ut he shrunk from doing this, preferring to
wait till Aldol)randino or some of the others came to
bring him thither, according to the custom in such
cases. iJut as the minutes went on imd nobody came,
Cardinal San Giorgio sent his Conclavist to see how
matters wore going on. He came into tlie hall just as
Aldobrandino and Montalto hand in hand came forth
v2
68 THE MEN.
to the body of the Cardinals. Returning therefore in
all haste lie told his master and Tosco what he had
seen, and said that both the chiefs were coming with a
large number of their followers to bring Cardinal Tosco
to the chapel. At the same time a tumultuous crowd
of Conclavists came rushing towards the cell of the
Pope elect to make booty of all that it contained,
according to recognised and tolerated custom. Indeed
tlie election seemed as good as if already made.
But now came a sudden slip between the cup and
the lip, which changed the whole face of things in the
Conclave, and produced as strange a scene as had ever
been witnessed in any of those remarkable assemblies
which had enacted and seen so many curious dramas.
While Aldobrandino and Montalto were on the
point of going to bring Cardinal Tosco to the spot
where the crowd of Cardinals were waiting to accom-
pany him triumphantly to the chapel, for the " Adora-
tion," two Cardinals held aloof, and were walking up and
down the gallery together at a little distance in deep
and evidently not well-pleased conversation. These
were Baronius,* and Tarugio, an intimate friend of his,
who were, as the Conclavist says, " professors of a
sci'upulous conscience," and as such could not approve
of the elevation to the Papacy of such a man as
Cardinal Tosco. While the negotiations had been
going on, which had resulted in the all but certainty of
bis election, Aldobrandino had sent no less than seven
successive messages to Baronius urging him to join
the rest of the party — and now, since the accession of
Montalto and his i'riends, it might be said — the rest of
• I have used, in speaking of this well-known man, the Latin instead
of the Italian form of name, although it is somewhat awkward to do so ;
beoauoe it is so familiar to the English reader.
THE CUP AND THE LIP. 69
the Conclave, in the proposed " Adoration " of Tosco.
This persistence on the part of Aldobrandino is
remarkable. After the yielding of Montalto and his
party, there could be no doubt about the sufficiency of
votes to carry the election. The abstention of Baronius
and his friend could in no wise have effected the result.
Yet Aldobrandino before proceeding to the chapel
made another — the eighth — effort to carry Baronius
with him. If we are to suppose, that this anxiety was
caused simply by respect for the high character and
reputation of Baronius, and by an uneasy sense of the
responsibility of proceeding to the election of the Pope
despite the manifest disapprobation and silent protest
of the man, whose character had greater weight than
that of any other there, it deserves noting as an
example of conscientiousness, so rare and strange in
that world of sacerdotal princes, as to seem almost in-
credible to us, and quite so to the bystanders, who
witnessed it. So much so, that our Conclavist guide
to these m3'steries declares, that Aldobrandino's im-
prudence could only be accounted for on the supposition
of an immediate interposition of Providence, thus
working out its own designs for the election.
On receiving this eighth message, which begged that
Baronius and Tarugio would come and confer with
Aldobrandino, without any refei'ence to the matter
immediately in Imnd, Baronius yielded; and following
the messenger to the great hall, found himself there in
the midst of the unanimous assembly of nearly the
whole Conclave bent on proceeding at once to the
"Adoration." Aldo])rnndino had evidently calculated on
hi.H not Imviiig sufficient moral courage to stand out
alone and conspicuously beneath the eyes of his
assembled colleagues. But his calculation had been
70 THE MEN.
based on an insufTicient estimate of the man. Not
onl}' did lie adhere to his refusal to join in the vote,
but proceeded openly to state his reasons for doing so.
Their first and absolute duty, he said, was to elect a
man of irreproachable character ; and for his jiart it
should be written in his Annals,* that he was the last
to concur in the choice proposed. It was answered by
those around that the election was good and respectable,
and the subject of it certainly a worthy one ; — an
assertion which he repudiated, says the Conclavist, by
the most expressive gestures, " beating his breast, and
shaking his head, and uttering broken words and
sighs."
Conduct so frank and vehement, a manifestation of
sentiments so open, public, and fearless, was almost
unprecedented in that world of cautious reticence and
simulation ; and the result produced by it on the
dignified crowd around was remarkable. Montalto
first, who saw in this unexpected diversion a possibility
of escaping from the election, which a moment ago
seemed inevitable, and which was fatal to all his
cherished hopes, was, or pretended to be, extremely
agitated, and cried out, that in truth it were well to lay
to heart the words they had just heard. Sordi, who
stood next to him, and who was one of the represen-
tatives of the French interest, to which Baronius was
especially acceptable, cried out that a Saint of God had
spoken, and that the words of such a man should not
be let to fall to the ground. Montalto, finding himself
* The " Annali " is the great work by wliich Baronius is known to the
world. The Conclavist makes a ludicrous aud inconceivable error in his
record of this declaration of the great church historian. He protested,
says the Conclavist, that it should be written in his Loots — •" negli suoi
stivali." The real phrase is supplied by the Venetian ambassador's
account of the Conclave.
THE SALA REGIA. 71
thus seconded, " lost his head altogether," says the
Conclavist, and forgetting that in the last Conclave,
which had closed little more than a month ago, he had
especially excluded Baronius, cried aloud, " Let us
elect Baronius ; I go for Baronius ! " Some of his own
friends took up the cry ; and all the French adherents
shouted, "Baronius! Baronius!" and the Conclavists
outside the circle raised the same cry. On this the
friends of Aldobrandino, and several of the party of
the aUies began to shout "Tosco! Tosco!" to the
utmost power of their lungs. " And thus," in the
words of our author, " all screaming together, and
moving on together, divided in cry and in mind, but
with their bodies closely jammed together by reason of
the narrowness of the passage, the}' reached the
Sala Regia, into which they burst confusedly shout-
ing more loudly than ever the names of Tosco and
Baronius."
The Sala Regia is a noble hall in the Vatican, at one
end of which is the entrance into the Sistine Chapel,
and at the other that into the Paoline Chapel. It is
necessary to the understanding of the sequel of this
extraordinary scene, to bear in mind this explanation
of the locality.
The result, it will be observed, of the sudden gust»
which had thus in a moment blown to the winds the
chances of an election so nearly consummated, and
had the germ in it of so many modifications of the
subsequent history of Europe, was at tlie moment to
throw all the party arrungomcnts and tactics of the
Conclave into utter confusion. Baronius, whose lead-
ing supporter was now Montalto, was a member of the
opposite party, of which Aldobrandino was the head.
On the other hand, many of the allies, who recognised
72 THE MEN.
INIontalto as tlieir chief, remained firm to their resolu-
tion to elect Tosco, and thus found themselves joined
with Aldobrandino against their own leader. In tliis
state of things the confusion in the hall was extreme.
Montalto and Baronius, with their adherents, made
for the Paoline Chapel, and Aldobrandino wavered for
a moment, whether he should follow them. But de-
termining, after a short pause, not to give up the game,
he shouted at the top of his voice, "This way, all
friends of mine ! " pointing, as he sjioke, towards the
Siatine Chapel. Acquaviva also and some others of the
same party, cried out as loud as they could, " Let all
friends of Tosco come this way!" And the move, says
the Conclavist, was a very prudent one ; " for if they
had all gone in disorder, into the Paoline Chapel to-
gether, it might very easily have happened, that the
Adoration of Baronius had followed, without their being
able to oppose it, amid all that confusion and mixing
up of the different parties."
The extent of this confusion, and of the violence of
the emotion among those holy and reverend old men,
may be estimated from the circumstance that Cardinal
Visconti was thrown down in the melee, and Cardinal
Serapino got a sprained arm, before the two factions
could disengage themselves from each other. And even
then the two Cardinals Pinelli and Ascoli found them-
selves on the Sistine side of the hall with Aldobrandino,
whereas their intention was to vote with Montalto.
All this time, Cardinal Tosco, who " dreamed his
greatness was a-ripening," had been awaiting the ex-
pected arrival of the Cardinals to bring him into tlie
chapel to his " Adoration ; " but, at last, his mind
began to misgive him. He sent again, therefore, the
same Conclavist, to see what was going on, and soon
THE TWO CAMPS. iS
received the tidings of the sudden wreck of all his high
hopes, at the moment when the realisation of them
seemed beyond danger. " Tlie good old man," says
the Conclavist, despite what he had above written of
his unfitness for the Papacy, turned deadly pale; but
determining not to give up all for lost, proceeded with
shaking steps, and leaning on the shoulder of the
Conclavist, to the Sala Regia. " Behold the Pope ! "
cried the Conclavist aloud, as he entered the hall,
thinking, perhaps, that even then the sudden announce-
ment might lead to an "Adoration." The crowd of
his supporters, who had by that time grouped them-
selves before the doors of the Sistine Chapel, received
liim among them ; and the keys being at that moment
brought, they took him with them into the chapel.
The other party had taken possession of the Paoline
Chapel. But, in the first confusion, the keys of the
Sistine Chapel were missing; and the Aldobrandino
and Tosco faction had been obliged to content them-
selves with grouping themselves before the doors.
Thus the two parties occupied the two opposite
chapels as hostile camps, with the neutral ground of
tlie Sala Regia between them. Thirty-six cardinals
went into the Sistine Chapel in favour of Tosco, and
twenty-five into the Paoline in favour of Baronius.
For the entire number was now sixty-one, having been
increased by two Cardinals, San IMarcello, as has been
mentioned, and another, who had been ill at the be-
ginning of the Conclave, but had been able subsequently
to join it.
And now an infinity of negotiations, messages, per-
suasions, jind seductions began to be ])ut on foot
l)etween tlie opi)Osite camps. Those in tbe Paoline
Chapel were quite open to proposals. For, though
74 THE MEN.
the name of Baronius had been used for the breaking
lip of the unanimity which was on the point of electing
Tosco, and the dissentients had entered the Paoline
Chapel shouting his name, no sooner had it served
their jiurpose, than they abandoned all thought of
really electing him.
Visconti, having risen from his fall in no very pleasant
mood, and entered the Paoline Chapel with Baronius
and his friends, began to vent his ill-humour on the
first mover of the disturbance, accusing him of sowing
divisions in the Conclave. " I neither wish to sow
divisions, nor have I any desire to be Pope," replied
Baronius ; " only put forward some good and proper
candidate." Yisconti thereupon would have left the
chapel; but the others crowded around him, and would
not let him go. " I protest," he cried, '' that I am
subject to violence ; " and turning to the master of the
ceremonies, bade him draw up an official protest to
that effect. " Pooh ! pooh ! " said Montalto, " are not
my two friends, Ascoli and Pinelli, detained against
their will in the Sistine Chapel ? Let ever}-- one be
left at liberty." So Visconti went out and sate down
by himself in the Sala Regia, protesting that he would
join in no election that day. " I would not make St.
Peter himself Pope after this fashion ! " grumbled he.
But he had sate only a very little time in the Sala
Regia before Acquaviva slipped out of the Sistine to
him, and, after a little persuasion, carried him off into
that chapel to join the camp of the enemy.
" Gioiosa," as the Italian writer calls the FrencL
Cardinal Joyeuse, seeing that there was no chance
of electing Baronius, wished to leave the Paoline
Chapel, to return to his allegiance to Tosco. But he
made several attempts to get away in vain, for, " Mon-
NEGOTIATIONS. 75
talto and the others threw their arms around him and
stayed him with violent entreaties." Then Aldobran-
dino goes in person into the enemies' camp in the
Sistine, to try negotiations. Montalto promises his
support to any other candidate, if only Aldobrandino
will abandon Tosco. This inclines the chief of the
Clementine party to recur to his foi'mer plan of elect-
ing San Clementi. But when he returns to the Paoline
Chapel, his own party rebel against this, and insist on
remaining firm to Tosco. Montalto makes a sortie
from the Sistine, for the purpose of getting his two
adherents, Pinelli and Ascoli, out of the Paoline
Chapel. But he fails in his attempt; as those two
Cardinals are detained, much against their will, it
should seem, in the hostile camp. All tlie rest of that
day was occupied in negotiations on a variety of pro-
positions. The leaders of parties and men of most
weight on either side are continually passing to and
fro from one chapel to the other, trying new combina-
tions, and gradually limiting their pretensions on either
side, to making sure of the exclusion of those^especially
obnoxious to them. But every fresh proposal finds
some knot or other of Cardinals sufficiently strong to
secure its rejection.
There was not one of the older Cardinals, remarks
the Conclavist, who had not for a while conceived hopes
of being elected. But when niglit overtook the jaded
l)ut still busy Conclave in the two chapels, they ap-
peared to be as far from the election of a Pope as ever.
Yet both parties seemed determined not to quit their
present position, before the work was done.
Both the chiefs were afraid, tliat if they allowed their
camp to break up, and disperse for the night, some
fresh scheme or combination would be hutched before
76 THE MEN.
the morning. At present, though neither part}'' conhl
accomplish anything, at least each held the other in
check. Some of the older and more infirm Cardinals
retired to their cells, leaving directions that they should
he called instantly any change in the position of things
took place. Beds and supper were brought into the
chapels for many of the others.
Those to whom the Sistine Chapel is familiar, as it
appears at the pontifical service, when it is the theatre
of all the magnificent pomp of the Romish Church, with
its purple dignitaries ranged in decorous order along
its sides, may amuse themselves by fancying the picture
presented by it, when the same holy, but cross, hungry,
weary, bothered, and well-nigh exhausted seniors were
picnicking and bivouacking on its pavement, — here a
knot of three or four snatching a make-shift supper ; —
there a tired Eminence snoring on a make-shift pallet ;
— here a trio of the staunchest in earnest whispered
talk ; — and there again, a portly dignitary sleepily dofi"-
ing his purple and scarlet in front of the altar, for a
few hours' rest at its foot.
At last, Aldobrandino and Montalto came once again
to a conference, and agreed, that, as all combinations
for the election of any one of the older Cardinals had
failed, and there appeared no hope of uniting the suf-
frages of the Conclave on any one of them, the only
solution was to look among the younger men. Several
of these were suggested, discussed between them, and,
for one reason or other, rejected. At last, Borghese
was named ; and both the rival chiefs agreed that there
seemed to be no objection to him. He was a member
of Aldobrandino's party, the creature of Clement VIII.,
personally a friend of Montalto, and was known to be
acceptable to the Spanish party. It only remained to
THE LAST CHANCE. 77
ascertain whether the French Cardinals would make
any strong opposition to his election. For Montalto
had, in the course of the various tentatives, that fol-
lowed the breaking up of the regular party divisions at
the time of the proposal of Baronius, become so bound
up with Jo3'euse, by promises and agreements, that he
felt himself bound to make his acceptance of Borghese
contingent on the consent of the French party. Car-
dinal Joyeuse was one of the few, who, tired out with
the day's work, had left the battle-field of the two
chapels and the Sala Regia, and gone to his cell.
Aldobrandino accordingly hurried off to find him there,
and meeting on his way Borghese, who was returning
to the Paoline Chapel, after having been to snatch a
morsel of supper in his cell, told him, tliat his present
errand was to make him Pope ; but conjured him to
say no word of the matter till his return. Borghese,
who probably put no great faith in the success of any
such scheme, even supposing Aldobrandino was sincere
in making it, composedly thanked him for his good will,
and passed on. Aldobrandino was in truth earnest
enougli in the matter. It appeared his last chance of
making one of his own creatures. He met with Joyeuse
in his cell, and finding him, thougli not altogether in-
disposed to Borghese, rather cold upon tlic matter,
actually flung himself on his knees before him, to
entreat his consent. Joyeuse replied that he must first
consult Montalto. And at that moment the latter
entered the cell. Aldobrandino sprung to Iiis feet, not
a little aslianied, says our Conclavist, at having been
caught in such an attitude by his rival leader in the
Sacred College. Montalto however joined liis rcpre-
sentatif)ns in favour of Borghese, as his election seemed
to offer the least objectionable issue from the difficulties
78 THE MEN".
in wliich the Conclave found itself. Joyeuse there-
upon at once consented on behalf of the French in-
terest; and it seemed at last — if indeed no such
strange incident Avere to occur at the last moment as
that which pushed Tosco from the steps of the throne
when he seemed already to have his foot on them —
that the Pope was found.
And thus the history of Europe was made in that
little fir-plank cell, by those three old men, neither of
whom was fitted, by any quality of head or heart, for
the good and righteous government of a parish. And
thus Venetian interdicts, and Sarpi-led resistance,
active for good among us to this very day ; — pre-
posterous papal pretensions leading to the consolida-
tion of a Galilean Church in France ; — Borghese
palaces, Borghese gardens, Borghese galleries, and
other huge accumulations of Borghese property ; —
the great Borghese family, so great as to repudiate
with indignation the imputation of blood alliance with
the Sienese St. Catherine, all-canonised saint as she
is ; — Borghese " alliances " and Princesses, with so
much else, — all loomed into potential existence, selected
out of the many possibilities around them, as the things
that were to be, to the exclusion of the thousand other
equally prolific combinations that were not to be, by
the passions, jealousies, and low hopes and fears of those
three old narrow-hearted men. No one virtuous aspi-
ration; no gleam of a sense of the real significance of
the deed they had in hand, and of the duties and re-
sponsibilities it entailed on them ; no shadow of an
attempt, scarcely even of a pretence, to put their
actions in real accordance with the theories they pro-
fessed to be guided by, moved these men to act as they
did. All was false, sham, abusive, thoroughly the
BOKGHESE ELECTED. 79
product of evil and not of good. They acted as the
results of the system, of which they were the products,
and the necessarily generated consequences of the
doings of the generation that preceded them, made it
natural and inevitable that thev and their fellows
should act. Yet how much of all that is now benefi-
cently busy in ridding the world of all similar and many
other mischiefs, can be clearly traced to the conse-
quences of their act that day ! And how much else,
that is doing good service to mankind, of which the
pedigree is not traceable with equal clearness, may
yet be fairly attributed to the same paternity !
So, on the IGth of May, 150G, the Roman world
learned that it had a new Prince and Pope ; the Car-
dinals dispersed to set their minds to new politics, new
hopes and fears, new schemes, speculations, and in-
trigues ; all Catholic Europe began to canvass the likes
and dislikes, dispositions, passions, and character of
the obscure Curia lawyer, as about the most interesting
and important subject that could occupy the attention
(jf sovereigns and their counsellors ; and he — the
crabbed, rigid, ignorant, pedantic old lawyer, himself,
with his hard, strong, dry letter-of-the-law conscien-
tiousness, — came forth, tiaraed Paul V., in his own
honest belief by far, very far, the greatest man on
earth.
CHAPTER III.
Cliaracter of Paul Y. as Pope. — His personal appearance. — Case of Pucci-
nardi.— Paul's superstition and fear of death. — His quarrels with
various Governments. — France — Naples — Malta — Savoy — Parma —
Lucca. — Views of tlie civil and ecclesiastical power. — Paul's quarrel
with Genoa. — Sarpi's character of Paul V.
The new Pope, Paul V. was, as has been said, a liiglily
conscientious man. He was one of the Popes who
mounted the papal throne with a deep and strong
feeling of weighty duties to be performed, and an
unbending determination to perform them. He had,
it is hardly necessary to say, not the faintest conception
of such a view of his position as a spiritual-minded
Christian man might be supposed to take of that of
the universal bishop of Christian souls. But accord-
ing to those ideas of the Papacy which his training and
environment had made it possible for him to acquire,
he had a clear and well-defined path of all-important
duty before him. He did not place himself in Peter's
seat, like Leo X., with a "since God has given us the
Papacy, let us enjoy it." Those days were gone.
Neither had he any overwhelming sense, like j)oor
Adrian VI., of a weight of responsibility too great for
him to stand up under without staggering. To him
his path seemed unmistakeable, his duty clear, his
power to do it immeasurable ; and he felt no more
hesitation nor difficulty about doing it than an upright
Paul's character. 81
judge has in laying down the law in a case where it is
abundantl}' clear. He started on his course resolute, un-
bending, nothing doubting. If uncertainty might seem
to him to rest for a moment on any point, he turned to
his books, his decretals, his ruled cases, found the
matter laid down in such and such wise, and — had the
decision involved the destruction of half the human
race — would have forthwith driven his Juggernaut-car
of papal law straight on with uumisgiving heart and
mind.
Such, we all know, has not been the spirit which
has generally animated Kome's policy. A much larger
share of the wisdom of tlie serpent has gone to the
acquisition and preservation of her dominion over
the souls and bodies of mankind. A few more Popes
such as Paul V. would have probably brought about
at a somewhat earlier period of European history that
lil)eration from a yoke wliolly incompatible with the
uherior advancement of mankind, which we have now
t(j accomplish. But at least this man did a Pope's part
without compromise, and accordingly produced a vast
amount of suftering and disturbance in the world. But
the latent tendency of such conduct was of course
necessarily suicidal, to be duly developed in the course
of generations, and the world is nowreai)ing and about
to reap the beneficial results of it.
The personal appearance of Paul V. corresponded
well with his own idea of the unbounded powers he was
called on to exercise, and of the more than princely
majesty of his oilice. Jle was very tail and i)ropor-
tionally large in figure, dignified in licaring, and of a
severe and nuissive grandeur of leature. His com-
plexion was Horid, and his temperament coleric. He
was extremely im[)atient of contradiction and even
82 THE MEN".
of the smallest difference of opinion. Of anything
like indulgent consideration he was wholly incapable.
" No sooner was he declared elected" — it is a Vene-
tian ambassador who is reporting — " than in a moment
he showed the reserve and gravity becoming a Pope in
his looks, in his gait, in his words, and in his actions,
so that all the Cardinals remained full of astonishment
and wonder ; and many of them perhaps repented of
what they had done, but too late, and unavailingly. For
very differently from other Popes his predecessors,
who in the first warmth of their emotion have all of
them assented to the requests made to them both by
Cardinals and others, and have granted innumerable
favours, this one remained reserved and coldly grave,
declaring that he was resolved not to assent to or
promise the least thing, without due previous inquiry
and consideration."* . . . . " He does not like that any
one should speak long with him in remonstrance or
difference of opinion ; and if he listens to one or two
observations, when he has replied to them by the
decisions of laws, canons, or councils, which he
adduces as conclusive answers, he passes on to other
matters, giving people io undei'stand, though he does
not say it in so many words, that having laboured
incessantly for five-and -thirty years in the study and
practice of the law in government offices at Pome and
elsewhere, he may reasonably pretend to so perfect a
knowledge of the matter as to run no risk of falling
into error in his resolutions and decisions ; observing
moreover that if doubt there be, the solution and inter-
pretation of it belongs to him alone. "t The Cardinals,
the same reporter tells us, find it useless to reason
* Relatione dell" II""- S'* Franc. Molino, etc., letta in Senato, 25 Gen"-
1660. t Ibid.
AXECDOTE OF PAUL V. 83
with liim. as they are at once met by " resolutions
founded on the rigorous sense of legal terms."
It so happened that a small incident at the xerj
outset of his career served in a great degree to give the
Romans a measure of the man, and an idea of his
method of governing the affairs of the world.
A certain Piccinardi, an obscure writer of Cremona
had composed the life of Clement VIII., in which,
among a quantity of abuse he had — with sufficient
absurdity to ensure the harmlessness of the scribbler
and his libels — instituted a comparison between that
Pontiff and Tiberius. But the poor man seems to
have written only for the private solace of his own
resentment for some wrong, either real or very possibly
imaginary, suffered at the hands of Clement. He
had never caused liis libel to be printed, and had
kept it nearly if not quite a seci'et from ever)'- one.
But a woman, who had lived in his house, gave
information to the government of the existence of this
treasonfible manuscript, and the unlucky author was
seized and thrown into prison. Much intercession b}'^
powei-ful persons, and even, Ranke says, by ambassa-
dors, was made in his behalf. And as the new Pope
spoke calmly on the subject, and did not appear to
manifest any strong feeling of indignation, it was
supposed that he would be liberat^ after a sliort
imprisonment. But one day iu due course of law,
Rome saw tlie unhappy man led forth from liis prison
and beheaded on the bridge of St. Angelo ! " Whatever
might be said in palliation of his offence," remarks
Ranko on this atrocious barbarity, " it is undeniable
that he liad committed the crime of high treason, to
which the Inw awarded the punishment of death. No
mercy could be hoped from a pope like Paul ; even the
u 2
84 THE MEN.
man's small pittance was confiscated." That the
mere comi)osition of a satire, not published, but on the
contrary, kept sedulously secret, sliould constitute the
crime of liigli treason, seems so monstrous as to be,
even at Rome, well nigh incredible. But no doubt
Paul's only motive for taking the miserable scribbler's
life was tliat the law demanded it. And it is this
circumstance, that he could have had no animosity
against the obscure provincial author, that makes the
anecdote of value as indicating the nature of this
lawyer-Pope. And the Venetian ambassador, before
referred to, after relating the fact, remarks, " it is
concluded with good reason that this Pope will be
severe, inexorable, and excessively rigorous in the
administration of justice."
It was impossible that such a man as Paul V., with
his views of what was due from civil governments to
the Church, and his notions of the mode in which
those views were to be enforced, sliould remain long
without getting into disputes with the nations of
Europe. But a curious circumstance, which exhibits
his strong and self-relying character in a new light,
and at the same time is illustrative of the life of those
da3's, served to keep him quiet for awhile. At the
time of Clement's death a prophecy, the production of
some astrologer^ had been much talked of in Pome,
which declared that the two next popes should be a
Leo and a Paul, and that both their papacies should
be of very short duration. A great part of this
prophecy had been fulfilled. A Leo and a Paul had
succeeded as foretold, and the pontificate of the first
had been very short. Paul had a firm faith in the
pretensions of astrology, as a true believer in all that a
Pope has to believe may reasonably enough have. And
Paul's superstition. 85
this prediction, confirmed as it had been by its accurate
fulfihnent so far, weighed heavily on liis spirits, and
led him to make it his principal care to take precau-
tions against an event, which the same faith that
induced him to fear it ought to have taught him was
inevitable. The Pope believed it to be Heaven's
decree, that his death was at hand, and therefore
strove by every means in his power to avoid it. He
was very chary of admitting persons to his presence ;
would use none of the furniture provided by the
Apostolical chamber for his personal use ; caused all
his food to be prepared in the house of his sister-in-
law, and sent to him thence ; and even then compelled
all those whose service occasioned them in any way
access to it, to taste both of platter and flagon before
he would eat or drink liimself.* After a month or
two, however, tliose around him hit upon a means of
relieving him from his apprehensions in a manner
perfectly worthy of them. They called together a
quorum of the most reputed astrologers in Rome, who
after due and anxious consultation of tlie heavenly
bodies, declared that the malignant influences had
])assed ; the time of danger was over, and now all
Itftokened for his Holiness as long a papacy as his age
— youthful for a Pope — and his strong health made
probable. t
Tlius relieved, he was at liberty to turn all his mind
to that vigilant and aggressive assertion and enforce-
ment of papal authority, wiacli constituted his idea of
a Pope's duty and policy.
• Agostino Nani, Vtiiclian Ambassador, LctterH of the 2l8t May and
IGlh July, 1605. Mutiiiclli, SU)ria Arcana, vol. iii. pp. 20-^3.
t Riaiirhi Oiovini, Biog. di FiA. Paolo Sarpi, vol. i. ji. 230, edit.
Zurigo, Ih'M.
86 THE MEN.
France demurred at receiving some of the decisions
of the Tridentine Council, and was laying the founda-
tion of those Galilean liberties which have ever been so
sore a thorn in the side of Ultramontane theologians.
Paul unhesitatingly demanded full and strict com-
pliance with the letter of the Tridentine decrees.
At Naples, an ecclesiastical notary who refused to
give notice of a marriage to a civil court, as the law
required, had been sentenced to the galleys. Clement
VIII. had remonstrated against this exercise of the
civil power against an ecclesiastic, but had not
prevailed with the government of the Viceroy to reverse
the sentence. Paul demanded that the magistrate,
who had pronounced it, should at once be handed over
to the Inquisition ; and when this was refused, he did
not hesitate an instant to pass sentence of excom-
munication on the Viceroy. The Spaniard yielded,
and Paul triumphed.
At Malta, he insisted, against all justice, on the right
of presentation to certain benefices, which he wished
to confer on his nephew. And he carried his point
with a high hand.
The Duke of Savoy had presented to certain other
benefices, the patronage of which was claimed by the
court of Rome. Paul stormed and threatened, and had
his way.
With Parma he entered into litigation on similar
grounds, and with a similar result.
He quarrelled with the Piepublic of Lucca on a
point, which curiously illustrates the spirit that
animated him, and the nature of the theories he was
bent on establishing. Lucca was one of the cities in
which the reform doctrines had, at the time of their
first appearance in Italy about half a century before
LEGISLATION AT LUCCA. 87
the accession of Paul Y., been most extensivel}'
received. There, as elsewhere, they had been crushed
out by the searching persecution of Paul IV. and
Pius V. But many Lucchese professors of the reformed
faith were still living in exile in different parts of
Europe, and kept up a correspondence with their
relatives and friends at Rome- The Lucchese govern-
ment thought fit to forbid by public edict all such
communications ; — a sufficiently tyrannical exercise of
civil authority, and one which abundantl}'^ testifies to the
uttter absence of any of the most rudimentary notions
of the principles of civil liberty in the governments of
these so-called little republics. At the same time such
legislation would seem to indicate a degree of orthodoxy
and adhesion to the wishes of the Roman Court, that
might have been expected to satisfy the most exacting
of Pontiffs.
It is instructively illustrative however of the temper
and tendencies of the civil authorit}' at that epoch, to
find that while the government of this little state was
thus supporting the claims of Catholicism to exercise
l)aramount and exclusive authority over the souls of
its subjects, it enacted laws forbidding the execution
of any decrees whatever of papal ofiicers within its
territory, witliout the previous sanction of the local
aixthorities. The whole gist of the bargain, which
temporal rulers werfe willing to make with the spiritual
power, is clearly and ver}' intelligibly expressed by this
twofold legislation. We are willing to assist you, they
say to Rome, in iniposingyour yoke on the minds and
consciences of our subjects, for we have discovered,
that subjection to it is admirabl}' adapted to prop and
assist our own power, and to extinguish those a8j)ira-
tiuns and strivings after freedom, which have been
88 THE MEN.
seen invariably to follow in the wake of Protestantism.
But you must keep your hands off their bodies, and
especiall}^ off their purses. These we reserve to our-
selves. Not that we for a moment ignore or dispute
the necessity of enforcing your spiritual authority by
secular pains and penalties. But the api)lication of
them must be in 0217' hands and not in yours. If
persecution be needed for the subjugation or even
destruction of a recalcitrant spirit, point out the culprit
to us, and persecution shall not be wanting. We shall
feel tolerably certain that the obnoxious /ree-thinker is
one likely to prove troublesome to us also. But we
protest against your putting yourself into our place,
and usurping authority which is solely ours.
This is the gist and true bearing of the long contests
between the civil and spiritual power, when simplified
by the stripping off of the various wrappages of
shuffling and false pretences with which ecclesiastical
and lay diplomacy surrounded them. And these were
the terms of the bargain ; which, thougli it did not
satisfy the theoretical claims of the Apostolic See, and
when too clearly set forth was not admitted by the
Curia in principle, Kome was for the most part fain to
be contented with. But not so was Paul V. And his
conduct to Lucca on this occasion, in perfect keeping
with his dealings with the other states around him, is
as luminously illustrative of his feelings and notions
as that of the republic is of the general tendencies of
the civil power in Europe at that period.
Paul not only peremptorily insisted on the imme-
diate repeal of the laws forbidding the execution of the
decrees of the ecclesiastical authorities without appeal
to and sanction by those of the republic, but he
actually demanded the abrogation of the edict forbid-
QUAKEEL WITH GENOA. 89
ding correspondence with heretics living in exile !
The measure was, he said, a perfectly proper and
judicious one. But the Lucchese government had
exceeded the due limits of their authority in enacting
it. They had no right to meddle either for good or for
ill with matters that appertained to the jurisdiction of
the Holy See. It was usurping the attributes and
authority of the spiritual power. The pretension thus
put forward singularly sets before us the lawyer-like
build of the Pope's mind, and the uncompromising
nature of the principle he was bent on upholding.
^Vhen Spain had yielded, it was not to be expected
that little Lucca should think of resisting. She sub-
mitted on both points. The edict forbidding commu-
nication with heretics was recalled, and innnediately
re-enacted by the direct power and authority of the
Holy See.*
At Genoa the vigilant eye of the new Pontiff detected
other grounds for discontent, and an opportunity for
asserting Church supremacy. The administrators of
certain religious confraternities and charitable funds
had been accused of malversation of the sums entrusted
tr) them. And for this most clearly civil offence they
had been cited befoi-e the ordinary civil tribunals.
Paul declared that this constituted an invasion and
breach of ecclesiastical immunities. He insisted that
all i)ursuits against the inculpated administrators of
funds destined to " picnis uses" siiould be abiindoned,
and left entirely to the discretion and decision of the
spiritual arm. It had also occurred in the same city,
that the Jesuits had instituted after their usual fashit)U
a congregation fur the avowed i)urpuse of spiritual
• Biog. di Sarpi, cit. vol. i. p. 20 ; Rauke, Hist, of Topes, Tol. ii. p.
337.
90 THE MEN.
exercises and social devotion. The real object, how-
ever, of this meeting, as was almost invariably the
case with these devotional congregations and oi'atories
wliich the Jesuits were so intent on founding wherever
they penetrated, was to acquire and organise political:
power. In a small state where, as at Genoa, all tlie \
magistrates and other governmental officers were i
appointed by the suffrages of the citizens, it was of
course extremel}' easy to exercise such an inliuence on
the elections by means of a society of adepts, pledged
to vote as one man at the bidding of the ruler of their
sect, as would result in throwing the whole power of
the state into the hands of those who had such a
mechanism at command. The members of the Jesuit-
directed confraternity at Genoa were all bound by oath
to give no vote in any election for any candidate not a
member of their society. The true nature of the
society was discovered, and the Genoese government
decreed its suppression. Paul was furious at such an
attack on ecclesiastical liberty. He demanded the
instant restoration of the confraternity, under pain of
ecclesiastical censures and excommunication.
Genoa, like the rest, yielded. The Pope had his
triumph ; and, as may easily be imagined, was stimu-
lated by all these successes to attempt other conquests,
and to brook no opposition. In Spain he demanded
and obtained the exemption of the Jesuits from the
payment of certain impositions. And each submission
to his will confirmed him in the persuasion that it was
in truth irresistible. The Grand-Duke of Tuscany
declared that the new Pontiff had taken all his notions
of the government of the world from that of a small
town in the ecclesiastical dominions; that he would
soon find them to be impracticable in the larger field
SAEPI OX PAUL V. 91
i action to which he had been callecl ; and that the
irckless and audacious violence of his pretensions and
conduct would soon come to an end.
But there was one as 3'et obscure individual looking
on at all these in-oceedings, who had taken a juster
measure of the Pope's temper and acquired nature.
" Paul v.," says this accurate and profound observer,*
" was from his earliest years given up to, and nourished
on those studies, which have no other scope than the
securing of the spiritual and temporal power of the
entire world to the Roman Pontifl', and the aggrandise-
n^ut of the clerical order by withdrawing it from the
power and jurisdiction of secular princes, by raising it
above the monarchs of the earth, and by making all
secular persons secondary to it in all privileges and
advantages. Paul had moreover, as soon as he reached
man's estate, an opportunity to exercise himself in the
management of the arms by which these doctrines
sustained themselves, Avlien he held the office of
Auditor of the Apostolic Chamber, — a charge in most
perfect conformity witli his disposition. For the style
and title given to that magistrate describes him as the
I'nivcrHal Executor of censures and sentences recorded
hoth in Rome and abroad ; and he bestirred himself in
it so mucli more energetically than any of his prede-
cessors, that in tlie five years during which he held
the oflicc, lie fulminated more monit(U'ies and censures
than had been sent forth during the previous fifty
years."
Such was Paul V., whose virtues (for his lofty and
• Sarpi, Storifi Pnrticolare dollo Cose passatc, etc., vol. iii. p. 1 ; Opcro
di Fn\ I'aolo Sarpi, 8 vols., IIiliuHtat, 17015.
AH quotations from any of the workH of Father Paul, in the Bub-
scqucDt pages, will b« made from this edition.
92 THE MEN.
unbending determination to do at all costs and all
hazards what he deemed to be his paramount dut\
must be ranked as such) and whose conscientiousness
were more dangerous to the Papacy than the shameless
vices and total want of principle of many of his pre-
decessors had been, and who showed the world how
utterlj"^ intolerable a phenomenon is a Pope in earnest
to carry out sincerely Home's conception of a Pope's
duty.
CHAPTER IV.
Infancy of Fra Paolo. — Natural bend of his mind. — First instructors. —
Becomes a Servite Friar. — Scholastic disputations. — Origin and
tendency of them. — Sarpi's early scholastic triumphs. — He is made
Theologian to the Duke of Mantua. — His claims to scientific dis-
coveries. — Treatises *'de omni scibile." — The Duke of Mantua's
joke. — Sarpi is sent to Milan by his superiors, — Is accused of
Heresy. — Acquitted.
Let us now turn to our other Paul — Friar Paul, the
Venetian. The best that may be, must be done to
compress into as few pages as possible, some account
of a life and character well worthy of development
with all amplitude of detail.
Francesco Sarpi, the unsuccessful trader, died while
liis son Pietro was still a child ; and the famous friar
is one of the long list of great men whose early train-
ing has been derived chiefly from their mothers. As
Camillo Borghese became Paul onl}' when he ascended
the Papal tlirone, so Pietro Sarpi took the name by
wliich he has become known to posterity only on
entering a monastic order. The boy Pietro, wlio was
usually called by the diminutive " I'ierino," on account
of his small stature and slender nuike, did not seem at
the outset, and during the earlier years of his career,
at all calculated, either by disposition or circuiustances,
to lill any such position in the history of the world as
ihat which he was led by events to achieve and to
9l- THE MEN.
occupy. He gave, indeed, from a very early age, high
promise of distinction, but in a very different field
from that in wliich he eventually won it.
The great political leader, whose unflagging energy
and unbending courage piloted his native country
through one of the stormiest and most dangerous
epochs of its existence, — to speak the language of his
friends and of the modern world in general, — or, as
his adversaries would say, the turbulent and factious
friar, whose restless and insatiable ambition well nigh
set the world a-flame and has lured countless souls
to their destruction, — this busy, indomitable, indefati-
gable, iron-willed man, as all accounts agree in
describing him, was remarkable in early life for his
quiet, thoughtful, taciturn disposition, shrinking from
all turmoil, — even from that of the amusements of his
fellows, — and inclined to silent and solitary medi-
tation. The results of a love of study, of an
unquenchable thirst for knowledge, of a singularly
accurate and perspicacious intellect, and of immense
powers of memory, soon made themselves manifest,
but in a totally different direction from that which
subsequently led him to the position he came to
occupy, and has ever since occupied, in the eye of the
world. Had a wiser pontiff than Paul V. resulted from
the pis-aller choice of that much perplexed Conclave,
we might have heard of astronomical, optical, or ana-
tomical discoveries by the Venetian Servite Friar ; but
the world would not have owed him its present debt of
gratitude for the rarer, more dangerous, and more
critically needed championship, which helped it on its
way to spiritual freedom.
How surely the occasion calls forth the man to meet
it, be he hidden where he may ! How strange, that
THE friar's early YEARS. 95
the Queen of the Adriatic, with all her wealth of
patrician senators, diplomatists, and counsellors,
trained by life-long practice to the science of state-
craft in the most celebrated school of the art then
known to the world, — when at her utmost need she
required a man capable of leading, sustaining, and
guiding her in her struggle with the most formidable
enemj' then in existence, — should find him in an
obscure plebeian inmate of a Servite cloister !
It so chanced that little Pietro's widowed mother,
Lisabetta, had a brother a priest, who kept a school
frequented by several patrician lads of the governing
Venetian families. Among these was Andrea Moro-
sini, of whose part in the great contest between his
country and the papal power we shall hear more
by-and-bye. But Sarpi did not remain long with
these companions ; for his progress in learning what
was set before him to learn was such, that at twelve
years old his uncle the schoolmaster confessed that he
had notliing more to teach him, and recommended him
to a certain Friar Gian Maria Capella, a learned
mathematician and theologian of the order of Servites.
This friar soon found that he had in hand material of
no ordinary calibre. He exerted himself to do his
duty as a teacher and as a Servite ; and the result
was, that in less tlian a year after the lad had come
into his liands, Pietro Sarpi became at scarcely
thirteen years of age a veiy competent mathematician,
and a novice in the Servite convent. Could Friar
Gian Maria have read the future, pcrliaps lie might
not luive considered his promising novice so great a
prize.
For the present, however, he and the society of
Servites generally had every reason to congratulate
96 THE MEN".
themselves on their 3'oung recruit. In the disiiuta-
tions hehl, as was the custom, on the day of receiving
the habit of the order, the lad distinguished himself
in a manner which reflected credit on his societ3\
These disputations formed a very singular feature of
the social life of the period. With the sixteenth
centuiy, the discovery, importation, and renewed study
of the ancient literature, the stirring of the new doc-
trines in rehgion, and, above all, the discovery of
printing, mind began to move, and to demand its
share of enjoyment and recreation in life. People
wrote and read poetry, acted and listened to plays,
attended public declarations and recitations, on occa-
sions when a few years previously they would have
amused themselves with some mimicry of, if not with
the reality of, fighting. Now in all this the Church
saw danger ; and, as in so many other cases when her
cry of " danger " has been unjustly ridiculed as absurd
and baseless, there was danger to her and hers.
llarely, if ever, has either branch of the Catholic
Church raised a cry of " danger " without good cause.
The Church may be naturally more sensitive to the
first approach of it than are those who are indifferent
or enemies to her safety. But she knows with very
accurate knowledge wherein it may consist, and is
honest and not vmreasonable in her cry of alarm. It
were to be wished that the enemies of Church
ascendancy had always been equally so in their replies
to her complaints ; but they have rarely had the
courage and sincerity to answer, " We are extremely
well pleased to know that your sway is menaced, and
would fain to the utmost of our power increase the
perils which alarm you." Even as now, the party of
progress throughout Europe professes to believe that
DANGER TO THE CHUKCH. 97
the mortal blows from which the temporal power of
the Pope is suffering constitute no danger to his
so-called spiritual power, so the enemies of the Church
have ever made it their policy to cry " Peace ! " where
there is no peace. But no man who has carefully
marked the nature of the bases on which the spiritual
power of Rome, such as it is, rests, can doubt how
fatally its existence is threatened by the attacks on its
temporal sway; and any candid enemy must admit,
that from the old monks, who at the first reappearance
of the ancient literature raised their voices against it,
down to the Abbe Gaume, who discovered the canker-
worm * concealed in the same pursuits the other day,
the Church has good reason to believe that danger to
her and her claims lurks in all such disciphue or
recreation of the intellect.
She recognised it at once, as has been said, in the
mental movement of the sixteenth century ; and, as
usual, sought to diminish the mischief less by directly
fighting against it, than by taking possession of the
new tendency, and striving to imbue it with her own
spirit, and shape it to her own ends. The thing
required was something of an intellectual nature in
the way of a diversion, which sliould be such as priests
could readily and fitly mingle in, which should take its
tone and colour from their own peculiar pursuits, and
thus be chiefly ecclesiastical in its character ; and
lastly, — chief requisite of all, — should employ without
awakening the mind, exercise those of its faculties
only which can by no chance minister to original
thought, and by the nature of the subject habituate it
to an uninquiring submission to and intense reverence
• Lc Vcr roDgcur. I'ar JI. L'AIjbo Gauine.
yS THE MEN.
for autlioi'ity. To this postulate the scholastic dispu-
tations, so much delighted in at the close of the
sixteenth and the beginning of the seventeenth
centuries, answered as nothing else could have done.
Each knight in the wordy tournament put forward a
certain number of theses or propositions in theology,
canon law, or any of the kindred subjects, and chal-
lenged all comers to attack them. Both attack and
defence, it need hardly be said, consisted almost
wholly in adducing " authorities " 2^''(^ and con on
every point ; being ready at answering a cavil by St.
Augustine with a quibble by St. Jerome ; stopping an
objection of Aquinas with a decision of Scotus ;
inventing wire-drawn doubts as to the meaning of
these authorities, and tripping up each other's heels
b}' every trick of word-splitting authorised by the
subtleties of dialectic fence. Of course, a prodigious
jjower of memory, a vast industry in reading, and a
tendency to accuracy of expression, was fostered by
these wordy tournaments ; but to all the higher powers
of the intellect they must be held to have been preju-
dicial rather than useful. Of course the victor in the
strife was he who brought into the field the greatest
number of positions, and defended them with most
abundance of citation ; and the amount of scholastic
learning stored away in young heads for the purposes
of display in these struggles was often astonishing.
Sarpi, in 1570, when he was eighteen, on the
occasion of a chapter held by his order at Mantua,
came into the lists armed with no less than 309 propo-
sitions. The occasion was a great one, and the order
of Servites acquired much glory from the prowess of
their youtliful member. The chapter was held in
the church of St. Barnabas. The Duke Guglielmo
SARPI'S PEOMOTIOX. 99
Gonzfiga, the Bi&hop of Mantua, and a large audience
of all that was most distinguished in the lay as well as
clerical society, were present. It is difficult to under-
stand that la\-men, statesmen, princes, and soldiers
should have taken pleasure in long sittings devoted to
maintaining and attacking the most subtle points of
scholastic divinit}-. But they unquestionably did so,
— unless, indeed, we are to suppose that many a
worthy gentleman yawned dreadfully behind his buff-
gloved hand, and sat there and applauded for fashion's
sake.
On the occasion in question, Sarpi so delighted his
audience that the superiors of his order assigned to
him an annual stipend of six crowns, equal in value to
at least as many pounds at the present day, for the
purchase of books ; the duke insisted on appointing
him " his theologian ; " and the bishop gave him a
professional chair of " positive theology," together with
a " readership of cases of conscience, and the sacred
canons." In each of these positions it is recorded
that he acquitted himself with tlie utmost credit. The
duties of his offices however seem to have left him
abundant leisure, which, during the four years that lie
remained at Mantua, he employed in making himself
one of the first oriental linguists of his day, and in
prosecuting liis studies in mathematics and natural
science. The latter was his favourite pursuit. In astro-
nomy, optics, liy(h-aulics, medicine, anatomy, chemistry,
botany, mineralogy, his researches were profound and
productive. In anatomy lie accomplished so much,
that by ItaHans he is believed to have discovered the
circulation of the blood, mid the valves of tbe veins,
before the pubHcation of these great truths l)y our
countryman Harvey. It is at all events a mistake to
u2
100 THE MEN.
say, as some English writers liave asserted, that Sarpi
took all he knew ou this subject from Harvey's book
on the subject; for it was not published till five years
after the death of the friar.* In any case, the study
of anatomy by a friar of that time indicated a very
remarkable superiority to the superstitions and preju-
dices of his age and class. For it was especially
objected to by the Church ; and the monastic orders as
usual, more Roman than even Eome itself, raised a
violent persecution against all persons guilty of the
impiety of examining too closely the structure of the
Imman frame. However it may have been in the
matter of the anatomical discoveries, it is certain that
he very greatly contributed to that of the thermometer
(usually attributed to Galileo), if it was not, as is very
probable, entirely his own.
Those were days, though they were the last of them,
in which it was still possible to have, and men had,
belief in treatises *' de omni scibile," — neat, tight little
compressed packages of all that was known or knowable
by man, put up, like a pot of i)emmican, into a solid
dumpty quarto for ready use. But the quartos grew
into folios, the folios into long series of similar volumes ;
these colossal labours, the result of some mole-like
cloister life, had to give way to encyclopaedias produced
by the combined effort of a joint-stock company of
literary labour; the encyclopaedias became obsolete,
and were succeeded by fresh attempts at more intense
compression, and more select selection : until, in the
intellectual as well as in all other fields of human
effort, man had to submit to that division of labour, so
admirably fruitful in its results for the advancement of
* Bianclu Giovini, Biog., vol. i. p. 08.
SAKPl's PURSUITS. ]01
the work to be done, but so crippling to the highest
development of the worker ; and the life-labour of high
intellects had to narrow their ambition from the
complete mastery of the " omne scibile " to the still
avowedly incomplete knowledge of the coleoptera or
the Chinese grammar.
The astonishing vigour of Sarpi's intellect, his won-
derful memory, his unflagging life-long industry, and
his insatiable desire of knowledge, enabled him to
acquire an amount of information in all the branches
of human knowledge, as it then existed, which really
entitles him to be considered as one of the last of the
trul}' encyclopjedical men. And it must not be imagined
that the few imperfect notices of his pursuits to which
the attention of the reader has been called are intended
as an account of what he accomplished in various fields
of intellectual labour ; they were adduced merely for
the sake of pointing out that the first and most spon-
taneous direction of his mind was to physical inquiry.
The early studies, which resulted in triumphant exlii-
l)itions in the scholastic tilt-yard of the Barnabite
churcli at Mantua, were not spontaneous ; and the
more mature investigations into the bases of Papal
claims and international law were rendered necessary
by the circumstances of his country, and by his own
position as chief adviser and defender of its council
and measures.
ISIeanwhile, the early portion of the great friar's
biography consists of liis rapid rise in the hierarchy of
liis order. He remained at Mantua only three years,
from his nineteentli to his twenty-first. His latest
biographer* tliinks tliat a trick i)layf'd upon biiii by
• Biauchi Oiovini, vol. i. p. ] J.
J 02 THE MEN.
his patron was the principal cause of his quitting that
city. Tliis was the same William Gonzaga, Duke of
I\Iantua, who sat with pleasure to hear the develop-
ment of his 309 theses, and one of whose favourite
amusements was to set any erudite doctors who visited
his coui't and his young theologian at learned logger-
heads together on some knotty point of scholastic
doctrine, and then enjoy with shouts of laughter the
almost sure discomfiture of the strangers at the hands
of his pet casuist i)rize-fighter ; and the anecdote
seems to indicate that in one respect at least the duke
was at that time a more enlightened man than the
friar.
The young Servite, in his omnigenous voracity for
all the erudition of his day, had not neglected astrology,
then almost universally cultivated and credited. One
night he was summoned by the duke, and required to
go at once to the observatory to take accurate note of
the position of the heavenly bodies, and draw up the
horoscope of a child just born in the palace, the ille-
gitimate offsjiring of a noble mother and i^lebeian father.
Sarpi did as ordei'ed, and drew out his scheme with all
the care and elaborate accuracy which so important a
case deserved. The duke sent copies of the document
to many of the most celebrated professors of the science
in Italy, begging their interpretation of the omens as
set forth by the observation of his astrologer. The
replies varied, as might be expected ; but all agreed in
predicting some high fortune to the child of a noble
mother, born iyi the Gonzaga jJdlace. Some made him
a marshal, some a bishop, others a cardinal ; and one
intrepid toady asserted that the child was assuredly
destined to become Pope. Now the "little stranger"
in the Gonzaga palace was a mule ! Duke William
SARPI AND BOEEOMMEO. 103
enjoyed his joke immensely ; and his theologian was
no little disgusted, both with him and with the science
of astrology.
But there does not seem any good reason, I think,
for supposing that any such frivolous cause led to his
throwing up his position in the Mantuan Court. The
fact was, he was too rising a man to be allowed to
remain in such comparative obscurity and tranquillity.
Such a man was a prize of no small importance to the
order to which he belonged ; and his superiors, as
those of the monastic and especially of the mendicant
orders never failed to do, were anxious to turn his
talents to the best account for the honour and glory of
their society. From Mantua, Sarpi was ordered to
Milan, where the afterwards canonised Borrommeo
was then resident archbishop. Two such men did not
fail each to take due measure of the other. The great
and highly-born archbishop soon called to his side the
plebeian young friar, and not only employed him on
various important occasions, but admitted him to his
intimate society.
And here for the first time we find Sarpi in a position
well adapted to turn his mind to the great historical
investigations which at a later period occupied it almost
exclusively, and to enable him to make a beginning in
acquiring that intimate knowlege of the interior history
of the Tridentine Council whicli his celebrated work
on that suliject shows him to have possessed. Cardinal
Borrommeo had been secretary to his uncle, Pius J V.,
during the last years of the sitting of the Council ; and
was doubtless able to furnish much information, no
word of which WHS lost on his eager and unforgotting
listener. At Mihin, too, he was called on for the first
time to pay the accustomed tribute of superiority to
104, THE MEN".
mediocrity. A jealous fellow friar accused him to the
Inquisition of heres3\ The matter turned on some
interpretation of the Hebrew text of a passage of the
Book of Genesis, from which it was fancied that a con-
firmation of the doctrine of the Trinity might be ex-
tracted. Fra Paolo demurred on philological grounds
to the admissibility of the interpretation in question :
this of course was construed, in the usual manner, into
an opposition to the doctrine itself. Sarpi objected to
the jurisdiction of the Inquisitor before whom he was
cited, firstly, because he had preconcerted the bringing
of the charge with the accuser ; secondly, because, being
ignorant of Hebrew, he was not competent to form any
opinion of the merits of the question. On these grounds
the Friar appealed to Rome, warmly supported by
Cardinal Borrommeo. The Inquisition there at once
perceived the frivolousness of the accusation ; and the
Milanese official got a sharp warning from head-quarters
not to meddle for the future with matters he did not
understand.
CHAPTErt V.
Sarpi returns to Venice to lecture on Philosophy. — Becomes acquainted
with Arnauld Ferrier. — Is elected Provincial. — Differences between
the Monastic and Mendicant Orders. — The Order of Servites. —
Dissensions between different Provinces of the Order. — Great meeting
of the Order at Parma.— Sarpi elected a Delegate for the reconstitu-
tion of the Order. — His sojourn at Rome. — His criminal code. — He is
elected Procuratore of the Order. — Friendships formed by him at
Rome — Cardinal Castagna. — Quarrels of the Friars. — Frfl Dardano. —
Fri Giulio. — Sarpi's fourth journey to Rome. — Case of the Due de
Joyeuse. — Sarpi's friendship and companionship in his studies with
Galileo.
Henceforward Sarpi's monastic career was a series
.of convent honours and promotions, which followed
each other with unexampled rapidity. He was allowed
to remain but a very short time at Milan. In the
autumn of the year 1575, he was summoned to Venice
by the superiors of the order, to lecture on philosophy,
in the Servite convent there. And it is recorded that
his courses were very numerously attended, not only
by the younger members of his order and other
ecclesiastics, but by the young patricians of the city.
On the 10th of May, 157H, being then in his twenty-
sixth year, lie received his doctor's degree from the
university of Padua, lint the incident of the years
80 passed at Venice most notable to us, and most
important in the preparation of the " tenibile frate "
of after years, was an intimacy he then formed with
106 THE MEN.
Arnauld Ferrier,\v]io had been ambassador from France i
at the Council of Trent, and who had now been sent
to announce to Venice the peace concluded between
the Huguenots and the Catholics, and to seek a loan
from the Republic. From the accurate and abundant
knowledge of Ferrier, he was able to add largely to the
stores of information he had already begun to collect
on this great subject.
Nearly a year after taking his doctor's degree, at a
chapter of the order called at Verona, in April 1570,
he was unanimously elected " Provincial," being then
under twentj'-seven years of age. It was remarked,
that never before in the history of the order, then
350 years old, had it occurred that so young a man
had been elected to this important office. The Pro-
vincial was the ruler in all respects of the convents
of the order in the province by which he was elected,
subject only to appeal to the General at Pome. The
" province " has of course no reference to any civil
division of territory, but to the distribution peculiar to
the order. In the case of the Servites, this division
had just then been the cause of bitter discord and
dissension, which had the effect of rendering the
duties luidertaken by Sarpi far more arduous than we
might suppose the government of a body of friars to be.
And here, in speaking of the government and con-
stitution of these orders, it may not be superfluous
perhaps to state in as few words as possible, the
distinction between monks, properly so called, and
friars, and the widely difi'erent results which that
distinction has led to.
The constitution of the monastic orders was mo-
narchical ; that of the mendicant orders republican.*
* It must be remembered that the Jesuits are included in neither of
MONKS AXD FRIARS. 107
The object aimed at in the early ages of the Church
by the founders of the first, was the perfecting in
sanctity and purity of life of the members of each
convent. The end proposed to themselves by the
inventors of the second in later, and for the Church
more critical and difficult times, was action on the
world in behalf of papal supremacy. Each monastery
of monks was an independent monarchical community.
It was ruled by an abbot, chosen for life, with despotic
power ; who owed no allegiance save to the Pope ; and
that only in matters of faith. These orders had no
General residing at Rome, and indeed no such constitu-
tion as could either enable or constrain them to join in
any united course of action. Each community was
essentially independent. They had in most cases
become rich ; and if they did not carry out the intentions
of their founders in the sanctity and austerity of their
lives, they in a great measure did so in their retirement
from the world and its troubles. They lived quiet,
often studious lives, intent on none of the great
rpiostions in church and state, which vexed the world,
and anxious only about the welfare and privileges
ijf their own individual community. In all these
respects, the mendicant orders formed a striking
3ontrast to the old monastic societies. Each of these
orders was one body, let it have been dispersed in as
many convents in as many quarters of the world as it
night, nnrl was ruled by authority, having its centre
md licad in Rome. It was governed in a very small
legreo, and merely in wliat may be called domestic
natters by the superior of each convent, who was
jlected only for a short term ; but was ruled by a
hese divisions ; th'rir institute poHBCSHing features in common with both of
hem, besidcH many belonging to neither.
lOS THE MEN.
regular hierarchy of authorities subjected to a S5'stem
of checks, appeals, and supervision, intended to strip
its rulers of all despotic power, to the profit of the
despotism of Eome! Skilfully planned, as these re-
publican societies were, for exercising an immediate
and unceasing action on the outer world, the inliuence
on society and on history of the monastic orders,
properly so called, has been as nothing compared to
that of mendicants or friars. " Being poor," writes an '
author,* who knew them well, " they depended on the
Popes for privileges, indulgences, relics, miracles, and '
other pious wares, for which they found customers ; and i
thus they lived in clover. And, inasmuch as a por-
tion of the alms received by them was paid into the
Eoman exchequer, it w^as profitable to the Papacy]
to encourage a body of men, who' understood the'
accrediting of Rome's merchandise, and who by their'
own industry multiplied it, and at the same time found
so profitable a market for it. Independent of the
bishops, they invaded all the churches, preached,
confessed, kept schools, in which they taught the
children their own principles ; lectured in the univer- i
sities, mixed t^iemselves in affairs of all sorts, spied
out all secrets, directed all consciences, went on distant
missions, active conquerors of new realms, which they
won for the papal sway ; invented new modes of
devotion, made additions to the old ones, scented out
and persecuted heretics ; made themselves inquisitors,
theologians, politicians, men of business, or beggars ;
were a check on the episcopacy, bugbears to the civil
government, leeches to the people. And, what was
most admii'able of all, a militia thus numei'ous and
• Bianchi Giovini, Biog. di Frd, Paolo, vol. i. p. 34.
THE SERVITES. 109
formidable, instead of costing the court of Kome
anything, paid into the apostolic chamber large sums
for tithes and taxes."
This formidable militia, as the author cited well
calls it, was composed of four great branches, following
each its own " rule," in some small matters differing
from that of the others. The Servites — a branch of
the great Augustine order — have flourished almost, if
not quite, exclusively in central and northern Italy.
This " religion " was founded in Florence, about the
year 1230 ; where it still possesses the wealthy convent
and church of the " Santissima Annunziata," which
has always been regarded as the head-quarters and
cradle of the order. The Servites soon spread them-
selves over the Venetian territory and Lombardy, and
had convents in most of the principal cities. But the
pretensions to pre-eminence in the order, which the
Tuscan branch of it was led to arrogate to itself in
consequence of its greater wealth, and the special
protection of the dukes of Tuscany, caused jealousies
and discords in the " fraternal" bosoms, resulting in a
schism, in which the convents of Servites at ]\Iantua,
Verona, Cremona, Brescia, Bergamo, and Udine united
themselves to that of Venice, and severed them-
selves from the parent stock. This secession caused
great displeasure to the Tuscan Servites, who obtained
from Pius V,, in 1570, a bull forcibly reuniting the
scccders to the original body. The discontent, anger,
jealousy, and squabbling to which this decree gave rise
was intense. At lengtli, in 1574, it was agreed that
the Lombard and Venetian Servites should be divided
into two " provinces," united to the old body of the
order, but preserving their own privileges, when tlicse
could be made consistent with tlic fundamental rules
110 THE MEN.
of the society. And the conciliation of these rules
nnd privileges, and the restoring peace to the entire
family, had still to he eftected when Sarpi was elected
" Provincial" in 1579. Besides this, it was necessary
to put the constitution of the order in conformity with
the decrees of the Council of Trent on the regulation
of the mendicant orders. For the last ten years, the
Pope and the Cardinal protector of the order had been
endeavouring to effect this, and had accomplished
nothing.
It w'as needful to say thus much of the history of the
order, to indicate to the reader in some degree the
thorny nature of the work the young Provincial
had before him. To explain it fully, a detail of
friars'-world intrigues, obstinac}', petty envy, jealousy,
and squabbling, would have to be gone into, wdiich,
though it might not perhaps be altogether unamus-
ing as a picture of life very strange to us, would
require far greater space than can be here aflCorded
to it.
A great and solemn meeting of all the leading and
distinguished men of the order was called together at
Parma, for the purpose of arranging these complicated
affairs. The meeting comprised all of the distin-
guished learning, eloquence, and piety the order could
boast of. And the Servites w^ere at that time thought
to possess an unusually great number of remarkable
men. The whole of Lent was spent in showing off the
order of Servites before the public, both learned and
unlearned, by disputation — tournaments for the first,
and preachings by all their most eloquent men for the
latter. The universality of the interest taken by-all
classes in this kind of display was a very notable cha-
racteristic of the social life of the period. It was
STAERING FRIARS. Ill
essentially a diversion, .this sermon-haunting and
casuistic cock-fighting. The eloquent friar from a
distant city filled very exactly the position of an itine-
rant theatrical star. And the sharp-witted trained
theological disputants, retained in the service of rival
jn-inces, were regarded by them, and the glory of their
triumphs appropriated by them, very much in the
spirit of the proprietors of a highl}^ bred game-cock.
All this was, it need hardly be said, Avholly uncon-
nected with the advancement of virtue and morality,
though of course not without a tendency to make the
outward observances of religion popular.
It may be thought, perhaps, that in our many-sided
modern life, something very much of the same nature
may be found in our own May meetings, and colossal
" tabernacle " preachings. Of course the same follies
and misdirected good tendencies formed the subsoil,
whence both the seventeenth and nineteenth century
phenomena have sprung. But there are two remark-
able points of difference between the Italian " religious
world " of the former, and the English counterpart to
it in the nineteenth century. The first is the all but
universaHty of tlie taste for these anmsements in the
earlier century. This of course points to the infinitely
richer and more manifold intellectual life of our own
ei)ocli. For after all, these religious dissipations were
an intellectual pastime ; and almost the only one of
wliich the people could then partake. They indicated
at all events that the masses of society were beginning
to require some intellectual recreation.
The second very observable difference was, that
there was nothing of the "unction" of niodcni jilat-
forni religious amusements about the simpler and less
self-conscious friar-followers of the Italian seventeenth
113 THE MEN.
century. True spiritual elevation of mind and heart
had of course little to do with either, quite as little
with one as with the other. But the frankly material
minded Italian had no lurking consciousness that his
formal religion was not the real thing ; that religion
should be a spiritual afiair, actively influencing the
heart. Nor did the frequenters of the great seven-
teenth century friars' preaching-matches, go to them
with the idea that they were thereby working out their
own salvation. That was to be accomplished by the
regular sacramental and sacrificial means appointed by
the Church. They frequented the preaching and dis-
puting bouts purely and avowedly to themselves for
amusement. There was wanting therefore one of the
elements most objectionable in the modern manifesta-
tion of religious dissipation. In spite of this, however,
or as some will be inclined to say, because of this, no
good fruit of any kind was produced by all this interest
and excitement about matters ecclesiastical. The
general state of morality was low, and was yearly
becoming lower. And in an intellectual point of view,
the employment of mind on these scholastic sub-
tleties was but the preparation for the still more
utterly frivolous and useless waste of it on the
Arcadian and Academic absurdities of the period which
followed.
Among the other displays of that great Servite
gathering at Parma, we have a record of a sermon
preached "with great applause,"* by Sarpi, before
" a very distinguished audience," including the Duke
Ottavio Farnese, who, it would seem, had a theological
taste as decided as the neighbouring sovereign of the
• Bianchi Giovini, vol. i. p. 50.
DELEGATION TO ROME. 113
house of Gouzaga. But when this Lent, for ever
famous in the annals of the Servites, and its lenten
dissipations had come to an end, a far more arduous
task than preaching to distinguished audiences lay-
before the notables of the friar world, and especially
before Fra Paolo.
It was decided that three delegates should be chosen
for the difficult and thorny enterprise of regulating
and revising the constitutions of the order, and con-
ciliating the inconsistent privileges and pretensions of
the different provinces of it in such sort as to satisfy,
if possible, all parties. There were present there all
the marked men of the order, greybearded sages, who
had filled with credit all the various offices and divinities
in its hierarchy. But for the important work of legis-
lation, on which all the future prosperity of the society-
was to depend, the youthful " Provincial " of Venice
was the first selected ; and two of tlie most venerated
seniors of the order were given to him as colleagues.
The triumvirate proceeded to Piome to enter on
their task in the following June, and were occupied on
it during the whole remainder of that year, 1579. The
principal part of the work fell, as might have been
expected, on Sarpi ; especially the revision of the
whole ponal legislation of the friars' convent code was
entirely his work. And this, under a system which in
almost every matter, from missing matins to murder,
gave jurisdiction to the authorities of the order, was
equivalent to the construction of an entire code of
criminal law. lUit if a man of genius be set to the
digging of potatoes, the work will uoi fail to bear some
mark of the quality of tlie workman ; and Sarpi's code
called forth the admiration of some of the most eminent
lawyers of his day, and " would," says Lomonaco,
114 THE MEN.
speaking of his success in his difficult task, *' have
been the wonder of posterity, liad he been the legishitor
of a nation instead of the legislator of a convent." It
is no small matter to have laid down in 157!), long
before Beccaria or Filangieri wrote, and much longer
before any such idea succeeded in forcing its way
among the " practical men " of the world, the maxim
that " Imprisonment ought to have for its object the
emendation, not the destruction, of the culprit." But
it is still more worthy of remark, as an instance of the
extreme difficulty with which even the best intellects
emancipate themselves from the ideas of their time,
" however monstrous, if these have been accepted as a
matter of course by the wisest and best of the genera-
tions preceding them, that Sarpi distinctly recognises
the use of torture for the purpose of extorting the
truth from a suspected criminal. It is very curious to
fmd him recommending prudence in the application of
it, on the ground that it may possibly have the eifect
of making the patient speak falsehood instead of truth,
while his mind fails to take the one little step further,
and reach the fact to which he was so near, that torture
can in no case have any other result in compelling the
tortured man to speak what he otherwise would not_
speak, than to make him say whatever he deems most
calculated to cause the cessation of his agony. This
simple truth, become tritest truism in the nineteenth
century, one of the finest intellects of the seventeenth -
failed to apprehend. It was but a very few years later that
Bacon incurred the unjustly harsh censure of posterity,*
for carrying into effect as a magistrate the practice,
which Sarpi in the deliberate closet work of philoso- '
• See some eloquent remarks on this subject in an article on Bacon in
the Athenceum, No. 1682, p. 89. They arc applicable equally to Sarpi.
SARPI AT EOME. 115
phical tliinking authorises as a legislator. Both men
were such as to make the aiithority of each avail as a
measure of justification for the other.
In 1580 Sarpi having completed his work at Rome,
and won golden opinions from all with wliom he had
come into contact, returned to Venice, and completed
the three years of his office as Provincial, respecting
his exercise of which it is recorded that on no single
occasion was any one of his judgments or decisions
reversed on appeal to Home. The feeling towards hira
of those whom he had ruled during these three years,
was manifested by their selecting him immediately on
the expiration of them as delegate from his province
for the election of a new General of the Order,
This mission made it necessary for hira to journe)' a
second time to Rome in 158:3. Two years afterwards,
in a general chapter of the Servites, held at Bologna,
he was elected Procurator of the Order, the highest
office next to tliat of the General in the monastic
hierarchy. The duties of this office took him once
more to Rome, in 1585, the same year in which
Sixtus v., tlie famous swineherd Pope, ascended the
Papal throne.
On tliis occasion Sarpi remained nt Rome four
years, during wliich he liad an opportunitj' of becom-
ing intimately acquainted with the Papal Court, and
its traditions and ways of business ; a knowledge
wliich he turned to good accoinit at a sul)spquent day.
We hear also of his forming the acquaintance and
winning the friendship of several of the notable men
then at Rome. But there is no word which indicates
that ho ever became acquainted with Borghcse, his
great subsequent enemy. By Pope Sixtus ho was
soon distinguished in so marked a manner that it was
l2
116 THE MEN.
thouglit tliut lie iiiigbt have had a cardinal's hat for
the asking. Sixtus was far too shrewd a judge of men
not to become aware of Sarpi's value. He emplo3^ed
him on many occasions, and frequently took oppor-
tunities of conversing with him. But Sarpi formed a !
friendship of more importance to us, inasmuch as it j
contributed largely to the stores of information !
resjiecting the Council, which he was now systematically
gathering from every source to which he could gain
access. Cardinal Castagna, wlio afterwards became
Pope under the title of Urban VII., had been cliarged
at the Council of Trent with the important duty of
reducing to form the decrees enacted by it. Such an
office necessarily involved an intimate knowledge of
the motives and discussions which had led to the
adoption of these. And the intimate friendship of
such a man was exceedingly useful to the future
historian. Castagna was according to all accounts an
excellent, upright, and truly venerable man. His
pontificate, however, lasted thirteen days only.
Almost similarly short were those of the pure -lived
and conscientious Adrian VI.* and of the saintly
Marcellus II. f — a buncli of coincidences sufficient to
lead a fatalist to the conclusion that some over-riding .
destiny forbade the long existence of a high moral
nature in the poisonous atmosphere in which a Pope is
doomed to live.
" He has been snatched away," cried Sarpi, when
he lieard of Castagna's elevation and death, " lest
corruption should have destro3^ed his fine nature ! "
Sarpi records his having once asked this valued
friend how it came to pass, that in tlie canons of the
* Adrian VI. was Florent the Fleming. t Cervini.
SARPI AND BELLARMINE. 117
Council, as they stood, it so frequently occurred that
the prefatory matter introducing each decree is
singularly at variance with the hody of the canon itself.
Castagna frankly admitted that the preface and the
decree itself had in the first instance been drawn up in
perfect conformity with each other ; but that, when the
text was submitted to the congregation for final
approval, the preface, inasmuch as it effected nothing,
was allowed to stand, nobody giving themselves the
trouble to examine it ; while so many additions and
alterations were made to the body of the decree itself,
that by the time all parties were, or professed them-
selves to be satisfied, it bore little resemblance to the
original draft, and consequently little conformity to the
introductory matter.
Sarpi made also during these important years of his
residence in Eome a valuable acquaintance in Cardinal
Bellarmine, the celebrated Jesuit writer. He also knew
and conversed with another remarkable man of the
same order, the famous Spanish casuist Navarro. He
was tlien in the ninety-fifth year of his age, and had a
lively recollection of the founders of the Society.
Sarpi lias noted a conversation in which the old man
declared tliat if Saint Ignatius could return again to
tlie world lie would not recognise his own order.
It must have been towards the end of 1588 that
Sarpi left Home, and was able to return once again to
the studious quiet of his cell in Venice. This was the
great object of his longing. Not that the many oppor-
tunities he had had at Home of obtaining information
for tlie great work he was, as there is reason to believe,
already meditating, were undervalued l»y him. ]*>ut
physical science seems to have been 11h' pursuit most
entirely congenial to his mind ; and afltr his four
lis THE MEN.
years' residence amid the business, intrigues, and con-
tentions of the Papal Court, he returned with an
increased zest to his anatomical, optical, and astrono-
mical investigations.
He was not, however, allowed to continue them long
in peace. It was quite a matter of course that such
a man us Sarpi should have awakened many jealousies
and made many enemies among the ambitious spirits
of the friar commonwealth ; and the detail of the
quarrels and intrigues springing out of these, to be
found at length in the pages of his biographers, gives a
lively picture of the working of all the stormy passions
w'hicli vex the great world, transferred to the cloister,
intensified by the narrow limits within which they had
to range, and b}^ the absence of all the various con-
current interests, occupations, and affections which
operate as diversions to them in the outer world.
Nowhere has ambition shown itself more keen, more
unscrupulous, more all-absorbing than among the sworn
votaries of humility, equality, poverty, and obedience.
Nowhere have hatred, malice, and all uncharitableness
raged more virulently than among the cloistered creAv,
whose institute has striven to '* thrust nature out by
violence," and cut them off from all legitimate occupa-
tion of the energies and activities of the human heart
and intellect.
We have, however, no space to give to the story of
these convent politics and rivalries, with all that detail
of circumstance and character which could alone
render them in any degree interesting, and must be
content with briefly stating the circumstances which
caused our friar again to quit the cell and the studies
to which he had so recently returned.
A man, whose rise had been as mai'ked and rapid as
FRA DAKDANO. 119
that of Sarpi, stood inevitably in the light of all those
who thought they might aspire to the highest positions
in the monastic hierarchy. Among these, one Fra
Dardano, a Venetian, ex-procurator of the order, who
was looking to the generalship, thought it needful to
this object to get Sarpi out of his way. With this
view he laid an accusation against him before the
Ptoman Inquisition, to the effect that he frequented
the company of Jews in a manner calculated to cause
great doubts of his orthodoxy in matters of faith.
The fact was, that there were certain learned Eabbis
at Venice, whose acquirements had attracted Sarpi
more than tiieir religion had repelled him. A few
years later Rome would have gladly enough given ear
to such a charge against the " terribile frate " ; but he
had not yet become terrible to Rome : he had, on the
contrary, left an excellent reputation there, and was
intimately known and highly esteemed by many
influential men, and Fra Dardano's accusation was
laughed at. Galled by his failure, and eager to find
some vulnerable spot in his enemy, the ex-procurator
determined on striking him in the person of one who
was dear to him, and was less able to defend himself.
There was an old friar, between seventy and eighty
years of age, to whom Sarpi had been strongly
attached during his whole convent life. He had
always considered FrJi Giulio his cloister father, and
the strong mutual affection which bound the old and
tlie young man to each other was well known to the
friar community. Now, old Fra Giulio held the post
of confessor to a convent of nuns, and had discharged
its duties for many years to the satisfaction of all
parties concerned. Some indiscretion, however, of
aome sort, not clearly explained by Surpi's biographers,
120 THE MEN.
of which one or more of these ladies had been guilt)',
afforded an opportunity to tlie watchful enemy of
obtaining from the Venetian Patriarch an order inca-
pacitating Fra Giulio from exercising the duties of a
confessor. This, of course, was a very severe blow to
the old man, whom it disgraced in the eyes of all his
cloister world. But worse was j^et behind. Fra Giulio
bowed in resignation to the sentence. But not so did
the nuns who were deprived of their old confessor;
they became mutinous, swore they would scratch the
eyes out of any man's head who came into their con-
vent to replace their favourite confessor, and altogether
raised a clamour that no man, priest or lay, could
venture to face. But all this, instead of serving the
cause of their old friend, had just the contrary effect.
Dardano represented to the Patriarch that all this
mutinous behaviour w-as caused by the intriguing of
Fra Giulio ; and the result was, an order exiling the
old man to a convent in Bologna. To the septua-
genarian Venetian, who had spent his life among the
lagoons in the same convent in which he had passed
his noviciate, to be sent out thus in disgrace to end
his days, not only among strangers, but hostile
strangers, — for the Bolognese Servites were of the
Florence faction, and unfriendly, therefore, to the
Venetian "brethren," — was almost equivalent to a
sentence of death. Sarpi was touched to the quick by
his old friend's distress, and determined to leave no
stone unturned to remedy it. It was mid-winter; and
he Avas, after all the troubled business he had been
engaged in, at last enjoying the quiet of his cell and
the pursuit of his favourite studies. But bearing in
mind, says liis biographer, the proverb, — " He who
wants anything in earnest, goes ; he who is not in
THE JOTEUSE CASE. 121
earnest, sends," — he determined on starting at once to
Rome. There he laid the matter before Pope
Clement YIII., and succeeded in obtaining from him
a decree wliich enabled him to bring back his old
fiiend in triumph, not only to Venice, but to his nuns,
whose sins he was once again empowered to absolve,
as he had done for so man}' years.
Sarpi was not allowed, however, to depart from
Rome immediately on the conclusion of his own
business. A commission of cardinals and theologians
was then sitting to decide a question which the Pope
had referred to them ; and now that Sarpi was at
Rome, he was ordered to join himself to them and
assist in the decision. The matter was this : Henri,
Due de Joyeuse, having lost a wife to whom he was
tenderly attached, became disgusted with the world,
and took the vows as a Capuchin in 1;j87. Five years
afterwards, his brother, on whom the perpetuation of
the family depended, died, leaving no son ; whereupon
the Capuchin duke applied for a dispensation to
enable liim to unfrock himself and marry. The point
to be decided was, whether the continuation of the
name of Joyeuse was a sufficient ground for setting
aside tlie vows and vocation of a monk. Bellarmine, it
is recorded, whispered to Sarpi, as they sat side by
side at the council-board, " These are the things
that have lost us Gennany, and will end in losing us
France and the rest of Europe ! " He was then
eaniing, it should seem, tliat character for " delicacy
of conscience " wliicli subsequently rendered him, as
we have seen, unfit for the Papacy. I'ut the majority
of the commissioners, and especially the Cardinal
Joyeuse, thought tlie continuation of that princely
name an al)undantly sufiicient reason for not keeping
1:22 THE MEN.
a promise to Heaven raade under circumstances which
Heaven had seen good to change. The dispensation
was granted. The duke returned to the profei>sion of
arms, and married a wife. But it would seem that his
own conscience was not so much at ease on the subject
as those of the great theologians who had granted him
his dispensation, for he assumed the cowl anew after
a few years, and died at Turin in 1G09, in consequence
of the fatigue and hardship he had endured in making
a pilgrimage to Home on foot in mid-winter.
"When Sarpi returned from this his fourth journey
to Borne, his pleasure in resuming once again his
scientific pursuits was stimulated by finding in his
immediate neighbourhood no less a coadjutor and
rival than Galileo Galilei. Fra Paolo was* now in
his fortieth year, and Galileo in his twenty-eighth.
He had just been invited to a Professor's chair in the
University of Padua, Avhere he continued till 1610.
During this time he and Sarpi became intimate
friends, and pursued their investigations so thoroughly
together, that it is impossible to say how great a share
either ma}^ have had in the immortal results of them.
Galileo, we know, was wont to call the friar his father
and master ; but the loss of the greater part of Sarpi's
scientific writings leaves us in ignorance of the extent
of his labours in this field. It is probable, also, that
the absence of all but very general and imperfect
tradition on this subject, has been in a great measure
caused by the necessity the learned friar was under
of concealing from all but his most trusted intimates
the nature and results of his scientific, especially of
his anatomical, studies. There was danger enough
♦ In 1502.
SARPI S STUDIES. 123
that the search for truth in any fiekl might lead the
unfortunate seeker directly to heresy ; but the preju-
dice against anatomical studies and the knowledge
resulting from them was especially virulent ; and as
of course it was most so wherever ignorance was the
densest, the mendicant orders were furiously hostile to
all study of the human frame. Sarpi was accused
repeatedly of heresy, on the most absurd pretexts.
But his enemies never .complained of the heretical
nature of his studies ; and the only explanation of the
fact is, that they had not discovered them.
CHAPTER VI.
Sai-pi as a friar. — Strict in his religious observances. — His sincerity. —
Opinions respecting this. — Does not attend the Confessional. — His
real views with regard to Rome. — The Chrondogy of tlie accusations
against him. — He fails to obtain the See of Milopotamus. — Again is
refused that of Caorle. — And a third time that of Nona. — Cardinal
Bellarmine's reflections on the.sc refusals. — Error of Bellarmine. —
Sarpi's intercourse with the world. — Circle which met at the house of
Andrea Morosini. — That at the house of Bernardo Secchini. — His
foreign friends. — Visit to Padua. — The eve of the great struggle.
Fra Paolo was now in his fortieth year, and had as
yet taken no part in the business of the world on the
outside of the walls of his cloister and the affairs of
his order. Nevertheless, the reputation he had
achieved by his management of tliese, and the fame of
his omnigenous learning, had already rendered him
one of the most marked men in Venice. And the sort
of esteem in which he was held by a government
which had as yet no need of his services, as well as the
place he held in society generally, are testimonies
worth recording of the position accorded at that day
in the aristocratical oligarchy of Venice to intellect
unaided by any outward advantages whatever. A few
notices, gleaned from his various biographers, of the
sort of life he led, and the people with whom he asso-
ciated in the years which followed his return from
Piome in 1592, will assist us in forming a satisfactory
SARPI IX THE CHOIPw 125
notion of the man who was to play so singular a part
in the great contest to be related in the subsequent
pages, as well as of the times in which the drama was
acted.
In the first place it is to be noted that he was
scrupulously strict in the fulfilment of all his monastic
duties and obligations. Bearing in mind the nature
of some of these obligations, as well as what we know
of the calibre and tendencies of Sarpi's mind, and
having been wont to think of him in some degree
according to the character which the unforaivinff
hatred of Rome has made for him, it is not witliout a
certain feeling of surprise that we learn that such was
unquestionably the case. From the time of his ordi-
nation to that of his death, no day passed in which he
failed to celebrate mass. At the long tedious choral
services, whicli make up so large a part of conventual
duties and existence, he was no less assiduous. Only
in the latter part of his life, when important state
aftairs detained him at the ducal palace, did he occa-
sionally absent himself from these far worse than use-
less performances. He rigidly observed all the pre-
scribed fasts, even when on the score of illness he
might, without breaking any rules, have abstained from
doing so. In various otlier particulars, such as absti-
nence from wine, and often from the use of a bed, he
practised an asceticism beyond all tlie requirements of
the monastic rule, and such as are recorded in liomish
hagiographies to liave been submitted to only by those
who were going in for high honours in the calendar of
beatification.
Was Siirpi nincere in his practice of all tliose futili-
ties ? That is of course the question wbicii first
occurs to the reader, and whirh idl the great friar's
126 THE MEN.
biograpliers and critics set themselves to answer by a
direct and violent aflirmative or negative. Was it ever
known, or can it be believed, argues Signor Bianclii-
Giovini, that any man ever succeeded in setting detec-
tion at defiance by the never-tripping consistent
hypocrisy of seventy years ? But the biographer, in
the ardour of his defence of his hero, slips in together
with the consideration of these monastic practices, tlie
equaUy well ascertained fact of the general purity and
blamelessness of Sarpi's life. But the question is not
of the sincerit)'' of tliat. Granted that no man of evil
life and passions could for seventy years appear to all
his contemporaries a model of exemplary life, does it
follow thence, that the mere routine conformity with
certain outward practices cannot be adopted for any
other motive than an accordance of opinion with those
who use them ? Of course Sarpi's enemies, both con-
temporary and posthumous, have loudly raised the cry
of hj'pocrisy Bossuet accuses* him of concealing
the heart of a Calvinist beneath his monk's frock ; of
secretly labouring to discredit the mass, which he daily
performed ; and of striving to bring about an entire
separation of the republic of Venice not only from the
Court but from the Church of Kome. Boyle, in a less
hostile spirit, declares that Burnet's life of Bedell
contains facts conclusive as to Sarpi's veritable Pro-
testantism. The writer! of his life iu the French
Biographie Universelle considers it conclusively proved
that he was " but a miserable h3'pocrite." The ques-
tion, however, of Fra Paolo's real religious convictions
is not one to be so easily and compendiously settled,
• Hist, des Var. lib. 7.
t The article is signed W — s. — for Weiss.
SARPIS SIXCEEITT. 127
Nor can the exactitude of his monastic ohservances be
held to prove much on the subject in either direction.
It seems to a nineteenth century mind incredible, cer-
tainly, that an intellect such as that of Sarpi could
beheve that the practices of monkish devotion should
avail to any such spu'itual advantages as Romish
orthodoxy attributes to them. But even on this point
it is not easy to ai'rive at unj safe conclusion. No
calculation is moi'e difficult than that of the amount of
aberration possible to a mind of a given degree of in-
tellectual power, moving in an atmosphere of general
ideas and enlightenment far different from our own.
On the other hand, if we are to suppose that Father
Paul, without attributing any real spiritual value to
his fastings and choral recitations, yet deemed it his
duty to comply with the obligations of the calling he
liad assumed, and further found it prudent in his
especial case to be so exact in the fulfilment of them
as to leave no possibility to his enemies of accusing
him of neglecting them, it would not follow either that
he was an enemy to the Church of Rome, or that he
was a " miserable hypocrite." It is remarkable that
he systematically abstained, except during the earliest
years of his priesthood, from exercising another and
more important function of his profession, — tlie hear-
ing of confessions. No special ordinance enjoined
Inm to do so. And an awakened conscience could not
consider this as a mere perfunctory ceremonial. The
assumption of the office of confessor would, especially
in the rase of so ceh^bratcd a man, have entailed Ibe
necessity of taking on liimstdf the direction of many
doubting consciences in matters of faitli. And pro-
bably enough Sarpi found his own path too dark and
doubtful to make him desii'ous of assuming the duty
nS THE MEN.
of leading others. It is far more probable that lie
was himself feeling his own way hesitatingly amid the
difficulties which must have then surrounded the de-
bated questions of creed in the eyes of every thinking
man, than that he had reached convictions wholly
hostile to the entii'e edifice of the Roman Church.
That he was not a good catholic is certain enough.
For he refused to accept all the decisions of the
Council of Trent. And being guilty of thus much
heresy, he might, according to logical Rome's clearly
drawn theories, just as well have been a Turk or a
Pagan. But Rome's doctrines make it very difficult
for people to be consistent in these matters ; and how
many good men were heretics to the same extent, who
still deemed themselves very good churchmen ! The
friends and thorough-going partizans of Rome, in
Sarpi's generation and in ever}'' age since, have cried
aloud that the blows with which he attacked her
encroachments on the civil power were in truth dan-
gerous to her existence, and that it was clear there-
fore that his aim was to destroy her. In the first
assertion they were, in the writer's opinion, perfectly
right; in the second, unjust. Those who sit in
Rome's high places, and are most conversant with the
working of her system, and best understand her
methods and means of operating on the human mind,
have in all ages cried aloud, that any attempt at limit-
ing her power, or reforming her mode of exercising it,
was in fact an attack on her existence. They have
not been all hypocrites in their terror and their anger.
The sure instinct of self-preservation has prompted
them aright. Rome knows that she dare not stake her
existence on the issue of a " fair fight and oio favour,"
with the ever-increasing tendency of the human iutel-
SARPI A FPJEXD TO THE CHURCH. 129
lect to awaken and tliiuk. For the thinker is ah'eady
in any case a heretic, inasmuch as even orthodox)'-
resulting from the exercise of private judgment is
orthodoxy no longer, but heresy — "alpeais" — a taking
an opinion of j'our own, instead of receiving it blind-
fold.
But on the other hand there have ever been, as at
the present day there are, pious and single-minded
men, whose attachment to the Church is such that
they cannot think so ill of her as to believe that
falsehood and corruption are necessarj' to her exist-
ence. Like a lover, who, seeing in the mundane
beauty that has bewitched him all the high qualities
existing in his own ideal, fancies that the beloved one
will blossom out into unimpeded perfection of moral
loveliness, when separated from contagious follies and
worldly surroundings ; but finds, to his infinite dismay,
tliat the too world-loving fair one loses all colour and
animation, and cannot exist in the new and rare
atmospliere to which he has transplanted her ; so the
ingentiuiisly pious Catholic cannot believe that the
purification of his Church from the corruptions brought
on her by her secular friendships would be fatal to her.
]VIost of the Church's nearest friends, and — to speak
the honest truth — most of her enemies believe, that
this purification would be the death of her. But those
ideal-worshipping lovers do not think so. And it is
probal)le that Sarpi was, like his fellow-countryman,
the virtuous and imrc-mindcd Contarini, one of these.
But the shortest and simidest answer to the accusa-
tions of impiety, liercsy, and hypocrisy', wliich Inive
been so unceasingly reiterated against tlio terrible
friar, consists in the chronoh)gy of them. Home
never found out his sins on all these scores till lie
180 THE MEN.
became " terrible " to her. On the contrary, the re-
peated accusations of those to whose jealousy his
marked superiority and rapid promotion liad already
rendered him obnoxious, were pronounced frivolous by
the Eoman authorities. Yet his studies, his opinions,
liis habits of life, and his associations were neither
different nor less well known during the years in
which he was running through the various grades of
dignity in his order, than they were when he had
become " terrible," as consulting theologian to the
Venetian republic. The rivals in the Servite body,
whom he had overshadowed, the would-be provincials,
procurntors, and delegates whom he had cut out, the
candidates for the generalship, who saw in him the
most formidable obstacle to their success, had dis-
covered that he rejected the doctrine of the Trinity,
that he consorted with Jews, that he did not believe in
the immortality of the soul. But Kome had not
thought it necessary to pay any attention to these very
serious denunciations. He was well known to many
of the highest and most respectable ecclesiastics of the
day, and they knew the value of such and such-like
accusations.
It is true, that in that period of his life of which we
are now speaking — the years, that is to say, that elapsed
between his return from his fourth journey to Rome,
in 1592, and his ai^pointment as theologian of the
republic in 1606 — he was on three different occasions
disappointed in his hopes of obtaining a bishopric,
by the refusal of Home to accede to his appointment.
But the reasons for this refusal were quite other than
his real or supposed heretical tendencies; and the
mere fact of its having been thought probable that
Eome would consent to his elevation is a very suffi-
SARPI REFUSED A BISHOPIJIC. 131
c'xent proof that the horror and abomination in which
he came to be held there dated from a later period.
It was not till after he had counselled and supported
Venice in her resistance to the Interdict, that his
hypocrisy, his materialism, and heresy became self-
evident. And, after he had been guilty of tluit sin,
Beelzebub would have appeared a more hopeful candi-
date to propose to Eome for a bishopric, than the
rebel friar.
On the first of the three occasions referred to, Sarpi
was, without any application of his own, spontaneously
recommended to the Pope by Cardinal Santa Severina,
the protector of the order, for the bishopric of ]\Iilo-
potamus, in Candia. And the only real reason * of
liis not obtaining it appears to have been, that it had
already been arranged between the Venetian govern-
ment and the Pope, that that See should be united
with the neighbouring bishopric of Retimo.
Sarpi, liowever, would have been well pleased by
promotion to the episcopate. The hours occupied by
his monastic duties were a grievous loss of time to
one who was eager to turn them to. so far more profit-
able purpose. It is painful to tliink of the intellect,
whicli was capable of rivalling those of Galileo and
Harvey in the nobleness of the boons with which they
cnriflicd mankind, being wasted on, or rather sus-
jjcndcd from, all living action by the occupation of
])awling endless litanies during long hours, amid a
choir of ignorant and wholly useless friars ! Promo-
tion to the prelacy would, moreover, have been a
means of safety to Fra Paolo. It would have removed
him from the jealousies iind watchfally malevolent
• Bianchi Qloviui, Vita, vol. i. p. IIS.
K 2
132 THE MEX.
surveillance of the friar world, which was at the same
time scandalised at, and envious of his successes and
popularity in the world heyond the cloister gates, and his
unfriarlike studies and pursuits. It would, moreover,
have saved him from heing further called upon to
labour in the thankless and infinitely disagreeable task
of settling and quieting the eternal quarrels of the
Servite friar family. This he was once more required
to undertake in 1597 ; and was obliged on this duty to
visit Rome once again, for the fifth time, in that year.
But, in the year 1600, another Venetian bishopric
fell vacant. It was a very poor piece of preferment in
every worldly point of view. There is a remote little
island in the lagoons towards Friuli, on which there
are some six thousand inhabitants, divided among ten
poor villages. It is called Caorle. But this obscure
and poverty-stricken little island is the seat of a
bishopric, the first in rank of all those of the Vene-
tian coast. The revenues, however, are by far the
poorest of any see in the Venetian dominions, — so
poor, that the bishopric Avas almost always given to
some friar. On this little desired piece of prefei'ment
Sarpi cast his eye. He was little anxious for riches ;
but this poor little bishopric would exactly aff"ord him
the leisure and freedom from convent annoyances which
he longed for. As the Cardinal Protector of his Order
had, on a former occasion, spontaneously recommended
him to the Pope for a more important see, he could
have no scruples in applying to the Senate, who had
the right of nomination, subject to the Pontifi"s right
of institution. The Council of State willingly nomi-
nated him. But the Apostolical Nuncio at Venice,
one Offredo Offredi, wanted to get the see for his
confessor, a Franciscan friar, named De Grigis. He
A SECOND AXD THIRD EEJECTIOK. 133
accordingly wrote to the Pope, imploring him not to
accede to the promotion of a man who did not believe
in the philosophy of Ai'istotle, and who was tr3'ing to
have it excluded from the schools of the university of
Padua, except under certain restrictions. Such a man,
of course, could not expect to be instituted to a bishop-
ric which an Apostolical Nuncio's confessor wanted
for himself. The Senate, not choosing to make a
quarrel on such a point, yielded ; and De Grigis was
made Bishop of Caorle.
In the following year another small bishopric
became vacant, that of Nona, in Dalmatia. And
Sarpi's patrician friends advised him to apply for it.
This time the Senate, desirous of not exposing them-
selves to the affront of another rejection of their can-
didate, directed their ambassador at Home to sound
the ground in the first instance. He found Clement
VIII. unwilling to accede to Sarpi's promotion. " I
know," said he, " that he is a very learned man. But
he frequents the society of heretics." The fact was
that the friar had done far worse than that since his
last rejection. He had advised the Senate to resist
certain new pretensions of the Pope, arising out of the
recent acquisition by the Holy See of the duch)'' of
Ferrara. And this had not escaped the far-hearing
ears of Rome. For all that, Clement, wlio was a
prudent, far-seeing, and moderate man, would probably
have been not unwilling to give Sarpi a bishopric in
his own states, for motives easily understood. But he
would not make him a bishop at the nomination of
Venice and in Venetian territory, and thus contribute
to bind a man likely to be so dangerous an enemy to
the servifc; of those whom Home was already beginning
to consider as her oiemies.
IJiA THE MEN.
So Sarpi never attained to the honours of the pre-
hiture, being destined to remain a poor friar, and to
become that " frate terribile," more important to the
future history of the Papacy than any bishoji Eome
ever made.
" Pope Clement VIII.," writes Signor Bianchi
Giovini, remarking on the disappointment of his hero,*
" did not live to know the enormity of the mistake he
made " in not giving the bislioi)ric to Fra Paolo.
" But Cardinal Bellarmine confessed it bitterly enough
after the events of the Interdict had fallen out,
lamenting that the Court of Eome had not, while
there was yet time, thought of gaining over a man
from whom such important services might have been
expected. On which point I do not know whether the
Cardinal was right or not ; inasmuch as, though Fra
Paolo was always irreproachable in all that really con-
stitutes religion, it does not follow that he would ever
have become a creature of the Eoman Court. I am
inclined to think on the contrary; that whether as
bishop or cardinal, he would always have been the
same man that he was as a simple friar At
the utmost, he might have become changed if they
had made him Pope. For of all the conditions of
mankind, that is the only one which has the special
privilege of changing a man Avhen advanced in years.
Whatever may have been the modes of thinking of an
individual, if you put a tiara on his head, he becomes
transformed into a new creature. He renounces the
opinions of a man, and assumes those of a Pope.
Nor would it have been anything miraculous if Fr^
Paolo, after all that he wrote in the matter of the
• Vita di Sarpi. Vol. i. p. 14S.
BELLAEMINES ERROR. loS
Interdict, had (supposing him to have heen created
Pope) made a solemn and spontaneous recantation, as
Pius II. did. Prospero Larabertini, when cardinal,
laughed at many superstitions, which when Pope * he
maintained. When he was Lamhertini he had no
esteem for the Inquisition ; when he was Benedict
XIY. he became a convert to it. With the change of
name the Popes change their nature."
It is quite natural, and in character, that the Jesuit
Bellarmine should imagine that the Court of Rome
having need of such an intellect as that of Sarpi, had
nothing to do but to buy him. But it is the ever-
recurring mistake of such men as Bellarmine to mis-
calculate the value of the moral element in judging
men. The purely intellectual part of Sarpi's nature,
the subtle and erudite Jesuit was perfectly competent
to appreciate. But he could not understand, that had
Sarpi been buyable, he would have been infinitely less
worth buying. He would no longer have been that
indomitably energetic and courageous fighter for
what appeared to him the right, which made him so
'* terrible " a foe. Bellarmine's error was of the nature
of that of the noble lord, who is recorded to have
bought the wooden "Punch," whose jests liad much
amused him, and to have been bitterly disappointed
when the puppet sent home to him as per bargain was
amusing no longer. His eloquent Sarpi bought and
paid fur would have turned out nearly as unprofitable
a purchase. But it is one of the appointed penalties
inevitably attached to an absence of faith in, and
reverence for, truth as sucli, that tlie sinner in that
sort is imput' lit to comprehend and calculate oil the
• BenoJict XiV., a. v. 1710.
136 THE MEN.
influence which a lively faith in the invincibility of its
eternal laws, exercises on minds to whom belief in
them is synonymous with belief in God.
To one who has followed the phases of Sarpi's battle
with the Court of Home, marked the earnestness of
conviction which animates his eloquence, and sympa-
thised with him in each critical struggle for the right,
it seems simply monstrous to suppose that for a fee he
could have turned about with a — " this, my lords, is
what my learned opponent will probably urge ! " and
have proceeded to be equally convincing on behalf of
the wrong.
It is true, however, that Sarpi did not fight only his
own battle, nor fight single-handed. He was but the
animating soul of the powerful Venetian republic.
And the Court of Rome might have gained much by
separating him from Venice, as, it has been mentioned,
that politic Clement VIII. would willingly have done
by giving him a bishopric in the Eoman states. But
there is no reason for supposing that Sarpi would have
accepted any such preferment ; and every reason to
think that he was too patriotic a Venetian citizen to
have made himself the civil subject of a power which
for some time past had been becoming more and more
hostile to his native city. But Clement VIII. was, as
has been said, an eminently cautious and politic ruler.
The leaders of the Venetian senate were not less re-
markable for the same qualities. As long as Clement
lived, therefore, no open rupture had taken place
between them, despite the numerous causes of ill-will
and irritation which will have to be indicated in the
next book of this story.
Meanwhile, however punctually and strictly Frk
Paolo conformed himself to convent rule, and submitted
SARPI IN THE WORLD. 137
willingly to all the practices and abstinences which
involved toil or self-denial of the body, he was not
willing to limit his intellectual intercourse to that of
the friar-world around him. The accomplished Servite
was a welcome and frequent guest in several of the
most agreeable circles in Venice. It is remarkable,
also, that he frequented with equal assiduity houses of
widely different social rank, and equally contrasted as
to the sort of society which he met in them.
The house of the patrician historian, Andrea
Morosini, was the resort of all the most distinguished
men in learning and literature to be found in Venice.
It is scarcely necessary to add, that of course the tone
of political thought prevailing there was patriotic and
anti-papal. There were to be found constantly
Lionardo Donato and Niccolo Contarini, both subse-
quently Doges ; Domenico Molino, a senator of Euro-
pean reputation for his energetic patriotism and varied
learning ; Antonio Querini, whose pen was subsequently
employed in the defence of the Kepublic when under
the Interdict ; and many others, the flower of Venetian
society.
In the house of the trader, Bernardo Secchini, at
the sign of the Golden Ship, in the street called the
Merceria, a totally different, but to Fril Paolo, a scarcely
less interesting sort of society was to be met with.
Traders from distant countries, travellers who brought
letters to the widely known merchant, men of all
countries, many of them Protestants, some »Iews,
were wont to gather together there. "And* Sarpi
delighted in gathering fi-om the strangers notices
of the customs, laws, religion, and natural productions
• Biancbi Qiovini, Vita, vol. i. \t. 00.
138 THE MEN.
of foreign countries. He took great pleasure, too, in
hearing of political affairs, of the vicissitudes of the
wars, of the spirit of various courts, and of the dis-
position of their ministers And it was observed
of him that his penetration was such, that he rarely
erred in predicting that such and such courses of
political conduct would lead to such or such results."
Occasionally he would make visits to Padua, where
his scientific friends, Girolamo Fahricio, of Aquapen-
dente, the celebrated physician Sartorio Sartori,
Gianvincenzo Pinelli, and above all Galileo, made his
coming a scientific festival.
Many foreigners of note deemed it one of the prin-
cipal objects of their sojourn at Venice to make
acquaintance with the already celebrated Servite friar.
Among such may be mentioned the Englishman
William Gilbert, the Frenchman Claude Peiresc, of as
encyclopediacal a reputation as Sarpi himself, Wotton,
the English Ambassador, and Bedell, his chaplain,
with whom, despite their differences of creed,
acquaintanceship ripened into firm and enduring
friendship.
Such was the life which our friar, by no means as
yet terrible to anybody, made for himself after he had
got to the end of the infinite troubles and labotu'S
occasioned by the quarrels of the Servite family, and
after three disappointments in his attempts to free
himself from cloister annoj'ances, by elevation to the
episcopate, had taught him that he must make his cell
his home for the remainder of his days. Such a life
must have been to such a man by no means without
its pleasures of tranquillity, study, congenial conver-
sation, and the constant acquirement of new ideas and
fresh stores of knowledge. Had it continued, the
ACCESSION OF PAUL V. 139
world might have had Sarpi, the historian ; but it would
not have had that tar gi-eater man, Sarpi, the invincible,
indefatigable and uncompromising defender of human
society against priestly tyranny. Sarpi may be said
to be one of those who have had greatness thrust upon
them. And the events which were to thrust it on him
were now near at hand.
Paul V, succeeded, after the interval of a few days,
during which Leo XI. occupied the throne, to Clement
VIII. — one of the most rash and impolitic, to one of
the most prudent and politic Popes who ever sat in
the seat of St. Peter.
This great change took place in the year 1605, Paul
the Pope and Paul the Friar being then each of theui
in his fifty-third year.
BOOK in.
BRUTUM FULMEX.
CHAPTER I.
Causes of raisuuderstanding between Rome and Venice. — The Republic from
very early times careful to avoid ecclesiastical encroachment. — False
notions of jurisprudence. — The Uscocks.— The quarrel about Ceneda. —
Bull to forbid travelling in heretical countries. — Extension of the pro-
hibitions of the Inde.\ to Venice.— Borne becomes possessed of Ferrara.
Quarrels with Venice arising therefrom.— Quarrels respecting the
Investiture of the Fatriarch. — These matters influential in causing the
refusal of a bishopric to Sarpi,
For the right appreciation of the tone of feelinft
and temper existing between Venice and the Roman
Court at the beginning of the quarrel, which at one
time promised fairly to bring to pass results of infinite
importance to mankind at large, it will be well to indi-
cate briefly the causes of the mutual ill-will which hud
arisen between these two States. It will be observed
that these were entirely of a secular or quasi secular
nature, and such as might have arisen between any
two neighbouring countries, were it not tliat the especial
unreasonableness and insolence of Rome must be
deemed exceptional and peculiar to herself.
Tlie Republic of Venice had at all times professed
itself zealously religious, and animated by feehngs of
the greatest reverence towards the successors of St.
Peter. But from a very early period the indcpondont
spirit, and slu'ewd common sense of tlic Venetians, had
manifested themselves in sundry curious pai'ticulars,
144i BEUTUM FULMEN.
w])icli indicated that the commercial Queen of the
Adriatic considered religion and its ministers* to be
excellent things in their own places, but had no notion
whatever of permitting them to quit their sjihere for
the purpose of interfering with the ordinary business
of the world. With them, religion and its priests
were for the churches, the Sundays and holidays ; —
excellent, too, for helping out showy gala processions,
and contributing by their presence to increase the
popular reverence for the magistrates and rulers of the
republic. But they never dreamed of admitting an
order of men, who owed allegiance to a foreign sovereign,
to the smallest share in real power and influence in
the state. And Venice in those early days stood
alone among the governments of Europe in its strict
adherence to this policy. She alone in Europe totally
excluded ecclesiastics from all participation in the
government. She was also the only state, in the
Catholic w^orld, which kept no member of the Apos-
tolical Court in her pay."^ An ecclesiastic at Venice
lost all rights and privileges of a citizen. He w^as
dead in the eye of the civil law. The wisdom of that
wise government had been able to devise no better
maxims than those for the protection of civil society
from sacerdotal encroachment.
And it is both curious, as an indication of the line
of thought generated by ages of Roman Catholicism
in Italy, and regrettable as showing how much lee-w-ay
the most advanced public opinion has yet to recover in
that country on such subjects, to find liberal writers,
such as Signor Bianchi Giovini for example, and to
* Sarpi. Storia Particolare della Cose passati, etc. Opere, vol. iii.
p. 2.
ILL-WILL BETWEEN KOME AND VENICE. 145
hear educated Italians, as any one will who converses
with them on such matters, extolling this old Venetian
legislation as the true and only means of confining
the Church to its legitimate sphere. So great is the
hostility to and fear of the Church, that men can see
in a priest only his priesthood, and think that they can
guard themselves from the influence of the latter only
by suppressing the individual under civil disabilities.
They cannot reach the perception that a true theory of
both state and church would require, not that the civil
law should refuse to recognise the man, but only that
it should refuse to recognise any peculiarity in him ;
that John Doe and his comrade Pdchard should, for
every civil purpose, be held to be simply those cele-
brated individuals ; and that information to the efi'ect
that Doe was in truth D.D. should, for all legal
purposes, be felt to be of equal relevance with the fact
that his friend lioe was president of a chess-club.
Those who live in glass houses, it may be said, &c.,
&c. True ! I live in a house with some windows, but
those whom I am pelting live in a veritable crystal
palace.
To return, however, from this somewhat unwarrant-
able foray into the broad light of the nineteenth
century, back to the dim, quiet atmosphere of the
t;ciiturie8 among whicli our present business lies, — it
may be readily imagined that the boasted piety of the
Venetians did not avail to make amends at Rome
for a government animated by tlie principles above
described. And despite all due tokens inul decorous
manifestations of reverence and submission on the one
liand, an<l of paternal afl'ection on the other, it may
safely be asserted that for many a year litthj love Iiad
been lost between Kome and Venice. But during tlie
146 BRUTUM FULMEN.
Pontificate of Clement VIII., an increasing number of
causes, each small by itself, but with a cumulative
tendenc}% had occurred to generate the state of chronic
irritation which prevailed between the two governments
when Paul V. ascended the throne.
In the first place, there was the often -renewed
dispute about the Uscocks. These were a savage and
ferocious tribe of pirates who inhabited the Dalmatian
coast. Many a strange and terrible story is yet extant
of their atrocious deeds, and of the wild warfare by
which it was sought to exterminate them. Of course
the position of their country and the commercial
pursuits of wealthy Venice made them especially
troublesome to the Republic. It was in 1592 that
Ermolao Tiepolo, a Venetian general, conceived the
idea of taking into the pay of the Republic a band, five
hundred strong, of the lawless banditti who infested
the States of the Church, and sending them to fight
against the Uscocks ; thinking that if only the struggle
should result in the mutual destruction of both parties,
the benefit would be all the greater to the civilised
world in general. But the Pope, who had no com-
merce to protect, and had, moreover, rather a liking
for the Uscocks, because they were always at war with
the Turks — (and what better proof of their possessing
a true Christian feeling, despite their little irregula-
rities, could a vicar of Heaven desire !) — the Pope was
exceedingly angry that his good subjects, the bandits,
should be sent on such an errand. In vain the
Venetian Senate represented, that tliey had imagined
they were rendering no trivial service to the whole
neighbouring country, and to the Papal government
especially, in ridding them of these troublesome and
lawless mai'auders. The Holy Father insisted on the
EOMISH POLICY. 147
restitution of liis biindits, and the Senate eventually
complied with liis wishes.
But very few years passed, however, before new
causes of discontent arose respecting these same
pirates. It was in 1596. Austria was at war with the
Turks on her own mundane account. And as the
Uscocks were always at war with the Turks, for the
very sufficient reason that they were their nearest
neighbours, Austria protected and assisted the pirates.
But the Pope, who was anxious to do at least some-
thing becoming a Vicar of Christ, was bent on the
iavourite Papal scheme of getting up a religious crusade
against the Ottomans by means of a league between
Austria, Poland, and Venice for this purpose. With a
view, therefore, of forcing the Bepublic into this
scheme, he privately sent assistance in arms and
iimmunition to the pirates, in the hope of embroiling
Venice with the Turks, who were to be led to suppose
that the assistance which enabled the Uscocks to
molest them, came from their old enemies. The
Senate remonstrated in very strong terms with the
Pontiff on the truly Apostolic means he had taken to
bring about his devout object. The Pope condescended
to make excuses; and urged the Ptcpublic to join in
the proposed league against tlie U'urks. But this by
no means met the views of Venice. The Queen of
tlie Adriatic drove a thriving and very important trade
witli these aboniiiial)le infidels, and Iiad no idea of
l)ermittiiig lier religious zeal to interfere with lier
commerce.
Then tlicrc arose in lOOTj another cause of mis-
nndcrstandiiig, tliat seemed at one time to tln-caten
more serious consequences than tlic business of the
Uscocks. The circumstances of the case were nmch
L 2
148 BRUTUM FULMEN.
the same with many another contest waged in different
parts of the workl by the Church of Home. There is
at the foot of the mountains, in the neighbourhood of
Treviso, a little town called Ceneda. The traveller
from Innsijruck to Venice will probably remember the
place from the beauty of its situation at the mouth of
the lovely valley, which brings him down into the rich
lowlands from the magnificent scenery of the pass of
Anipezzo. The poor little town is crushed into insig-
nificance now, neither more nor less complete and
wretched than all around it, under the hoof of the
Austrian. But its position at the mouth of a main
pass in the debateable ground at the foot of the moun-
tains, made its history an eventful one in the old
times; the kings of Hungary, the Carrara princes, the
Scaligers and the Visconti, having quarrelled over it
and possessed it in turn. At last, however, it became
permanently part of the Venetian territory ; and would
have enjoyed the advantages of the steady and enlight-
ened rule of the great Republic, had it not unfortu-
nately possessed a bishop ; to whom the " dominie
utile," or riglit of taxing the little town was admitted
to belong. Tliis right the bishops of course strove to
extend abusively, till it comprised entire dominion
over the inhabitants. The latter complained to the
Senate, which at once took the government into its own
hands. The bishops appealed to Rome. The Apostolic
Court of course supported the bishop. The people were
forbidden under pain of ecclesiastical penalties to have
any recourse to the secular courts ; excommunications
began to be flying about. The Ceneda people made a
point of disregarding them, and the quarrel began to
look ugly; when cautious Clement, having otlier more
important matters on his hands, consented to allow
QUARRELS WITH ROME. 149
things to stand as they had done before the episcopal
encroachments, and to defer examination into the right
of the question till a future time. Kome, however,
neither forgot nor forgave the incident.
In the same year, 1595, the Apostolic Court pub-
lished a bull forbidding all Italians under penalty
of excommunication to travel bej'ond the Alps into
countries tainted with heresy, unless by special licence
of the local inquisitors ! The sort of effect produced
by this wonderful bit of legislation at Venice may be
easily imagined. What was to become of the commerce
with England, Switzerland, Germany, and Holland ?
It is a veiy curious instance of the extraordinary
if^norance of human affairs which seems sometimes to
blind the Court of Rome, despite the ordinary subtlety
and ability of her statesmen, that the Holy See should
have for a moment deemed it possible to enforce such
a prohibition at the close of the 16th century. Of
course any idea of paying the least attention to such a
]>ull was simply out of the question. The Senate
however, unwilling to enter into profitless altercation
with the Pope, contented itself with forbidding the
Venetian Inquisition from receiving any denuncia-
tions on the subject, frf)iu whatever quarter they
miglit come.
Again, much about the same time, the Pope issued a
l)ri(.-f requiring that tlie Roman Index of prohibited
l^ooks should be received and acted on in Venice. And
in this matter again the Senate demurred ; not that
the Venetians liad any particular heretical wish to read
l)roliibitf'd books, but tliey ilid not choose to be de-
l.arred from printiiif/ and hcUuui tliem, as well as others.
The business f)f printing and publishing was an import-
ant branch of Venetian commerce. And here again
150 BRUTUM FULMEN".
tlie republicans hud no intention of letting their ortho-
doxy interfere with their trade.
To all these various causes of irritation and ill-
feeling a new and prolific source of unending bicker-
ings and differences was added in 1598. The Roman
Court had for centuries pretended to have a claim to
the Duchy of Ferrara, by virtue of the imaginary
donation of Constantine. During the rule however of
the more vigorous sovereigns of the house of Este,
they had never been able to wrest it from the dukes of
that family. At last however, by dint of excommu-
nications, threats, and in some degree by force of arms,
Clement YIII. drove Don Cesare, the heir of Duke
Alphojiso II., to yield up Ferrara, and content himself
with the Duchies of Modena and Reggio. The Pontiff
took possession of Holy Church's new acquisition in
1598; just two hundred and sixty-two years ago, a
lapse of time, it would seem, sufficient to convert the
gross wrong then committed into so sacred a right,
that it is sacrilege of the most awful kind to dispossess
Heaven's Vicegerent of his plunder. The result how-
ever of this advancement of the Church's territorial
limits, which most concerns us at present, was the
common frontier which it occasioned between the Roman
States and those of Venice. A variety of quarrels
between the two governments was the immediate con-
sequence of this near neighbourhood. Even while the
Pope, who had come to take possession of his new states
in person, was still at Ferrara a squabble arose about
the rights of fishing in the mouths of the Po. The Pope
caused some Venetian fishermen's boats to be seized.
The Senate immediately sent some galleys to retake
them. Both parties agreed, for fear of worse, to let the
matter rest there, leaving the question of right undecided.
QUARRELS AT FERRARA. 151
Then there arose other disputes on matters of com-
merce and custom-houses and duties. It was an
ancient usage that all vessels engaged in the oil-trade
in the Adriatic should carry the cargoes they brought,
principally from Magna Grecia, direct to Venice.
Occasionally it had been permitted, as an exceptional
favour to the Dukes of the House of Este, that the
importations of oil required for the consumption of
their states, should be carried to Ferrara by the Po,
without passing by the Venetian custom-house. This
favour the Pope insisted on inheriting, and turning it
into a right. Moreover he proposed establishing a
great depot at Ferrara, and thus turning the old con-
cession to the Dukes of Ferrara into a means of
ruining an important branch of Venetian commerce.
Once again, as in the other matters, the Senate insisted
that reverence for the Head of the Church was one
thing, and the trade in oil another. They sent armed
vessels to constrain tlie oil-ships to follow the accus-
tomed course, and the Pope threatened to make a ship
canal from the Po to his port of Comacchio, and then
construct fortifications, under protection of which the
ships should land their cargoes. But ship-canals and
fortifications are not so readily brought into action as
excommunications ; and the Senate was content to let
things go on as usual in the meantime.
In another important matter, about the same time,
the Venetians found that the change which gave them
Heaven's Vicegerent for a close neighbour was a mis-
fortune. The immense quantity of eartli brought
down .by the Po and the other rivers flowing into the
upper corner of the Adriatic, threatened very seriously
to injure tlie navigation of those waters. 'I'lie evil was
then, and has in various ways become since, and still
152 BRUTUM FULMEN.
is, a very important and coniplicated one. The govern-
ment of Venice had at that time a phin of endeavouring
to remedy tlie mischief in part, by carrying a large
portion of the waters of the Po tlirough an artificial
canal into the sea. Of course any scheme by which
evils of the nature of those alluded to could have
been remedied, would have been highly advantageous
to the entire north of Italy. The Pope, however,
instantly declared that his states would be prejudiced
by the proposed new canal, and insisted on the relin-
quishment of the project. But the disapprobation
expressed by Spain and Tuscany of the wrongful
acquisition of Ferrara by the Eoman Court threatened
troubles which induced the Pope to desist from his
threats on this point.
But there was no end to the vexatious demands and
litigations of such a Court as that of Rome, vigilant to
seize every opportunity of making good some advance
in claims and pretensions, which aimed at the greatest
and never neglected the smallest objects. In ICOl
the Patriarch of Venice, Lorenzo Priuli, died, and the
Senate elected Matteo Zani in his place. Upon which
Pope Clement, in contradiction to all ancient usage,
insisted that the new Patriarch should come to Rome,
to be examined, approved, and consecrated. Of course
compliance with this demand would have been equi-
valent to abandonment by the Senate of the right to
the appointment of the highest ecclesiastical dignitary
within their dominions. And the Republic had not
the least intention of submitting to any such encroach-
ment. This matter, however, like the others, was
patched up for the nonce, by an arrangement that the
new Patriarch should go to Rome simply to pay his
respects to the Pontiff, but should not be examined.
PAUL V. AND VENICE. 15-3
nor ask for any ratification of the Senate's appoint-
ment.
In several of these quarrels certainl}^ probably in
all of them, the Senate had asked, and in a great mea-
sure had been guided by, the opinion and advice of Fra
Paolo. And it was impossible, in the case of a govern-
ment constituted as was that of Venice, that this
should have been done so secretly as to escape the
knowledge of the Pope's Nuncio at Venice. It may
easily be believed, therefore, that all these disputes,
and the upshot of them, may have contributed to en-
sure the rejection at Ptome of the Servite's applica-
tion for the Papal consent to his promotion to a
bishopric.
Such was tlie state of things between Venice and
the Papal Court during the latter years of the Papacy
of Clement VIII. From what has been said in the
previous book of this history of the character and dis-
position of Paul v., it will be readily seen that he was
not likely to avoid an open rupture in circumstances
whicli luid so nearly led the cautious Clement into one.
The prudence which had avoided it he stigmatised in
liis predecessor as weak and cowardly neglect of a
paramount duty. And he mounted the tlirone, burning
to bring these audacious I'epublicans on their knees,
!ind determined to spare no excess of violence in the
use of the weapon in his hands for the eflfocting of his
object.
CHAPTER II.
Paul's selection of Nuncios. — Orazio Mattei, Nuncio at Venice. — The Pope
opens tlie campaign against Venice. — Count Biandolino, Abbot of
Nervesa. — The Canon Saraceni of Vicenza. — His ollences. — Paul's
dictum on the subjection of ecclesiastics to the civil courts. — Venetian
laws restraining the multiplication of ecclesiastics and the acquisition
of property by theiu. — Necessity of such laws. — The Church imprudent
in claiming exemption from taxes. — The disputants in this matter in
the 17th century avoid appealing to first principles. — Pope Paul's
indignation. — The political horizon bodes storm.
It was on the IGtli of May, 1605, that Agostino
Nani,* the Venetian ambassador at Rome, wrote to
inform the Senate of the election of Camillo Borghese,
as Paul V. It has been already told how Paul was
restrained during the first few months of his pontificate,
by the fear that his death was near at hand, from
putting into immediate execution the plans he had
conceived for the aggrandisement of the papal power.
The various demands he forthwith made, as soon as he
was liberated from this fear, on different states, and
the unvarying success he met with, have also been
related. It would seem as if he had had some mis-
giving as to the result of his meditated attack on
Venice. For despite his burning desire to avenge the
many affronts received by the Ploly See during the
pontificate of his predecessor t from the stiffnecked
Republicans, it was not till he had been encouraged
* See Note 1, at end of Volume.
t Always couuliug Leo XL for nothing.
THE KEW NUNCIO. 155
by the successes above mentioned that he ventured to
open his fire upon Venice.
His first care was to be everj'where represented by
Nuncios of his own calibre and ways of tliinldng.
Many of these residents in various courts were changed
by him with this view. To Venice he sent Orazio
Mattei, a Homan prelate, whose violence and audacity
were such as to render him a man after his master's
own heart. He came to Venice loudly protesting that
his mission thither was to suffer majtyrdom in the
cause of the Apostolic See. But, as Sarpi remarks,*
this martyrUke disposition was of a strangely imperious
sort. For if any one ventured to attempt any argu-
ment against the monstrous audacity of the doctrine
he was in the habit of setting forth on the subject of
the Papal supremacj', his constant reply — so constant,
says Sarpi, that it had tlie efi'ect of a set formula — was,
" I am here in the position of Pope. I want no replies,
but only obedience." This to Venetian senators, when
they demurred to assertions that " almsgiving, works
of mercy, attendance on public worship, and a good
and Christian life are all valueless, unless joined
to zeal for ecclesiastical supremacy ; " that " true
Christian perfection consisted not in charity and
devotion, but in exaltation of the ecclesiastical juris-
diction ! " f Truly, this was the sort of man Paul
needed for tbe work lie had in hand; — clearly the
right man in the right place !
The Pope opened tlie campaign by complaints
respecting those commercial disputes which have been
described, and by renewing the denmnd tliat the
Patriarch recently elected (for Zani, respecting whose
• Storia Tarticolare, ed. cit., vol. iii. p. 2. t Sarpi, loc. cit.
156 BRUTUM FULMEN.
election the demand was first made, had died shortly
after his promotion), shonld come to Rome, and sub-
mit to examination before he should be allowed to take
possession of his see. But not getting any satisfaction
from the Senate on these subjects, he took no further
immediate step, judging it more expedient " not to
begin from that point, but from something that should
have a more colourable pretext of spirituality," *
The opportunity desired was not long waited for.
Two occurrences happened which seemed to furnish
exactly all that was needed to make an excellent occa-
sion for the assertion of the principles the Pope was
so eager to do battle for with the Republic. And to
these a third was very shortly added, equally well
adapted to try one of the points on which the Apostolic
Court has always been particularly sensitive.
Some little time previous to the period of which we
are now speaking — the October of 1005, that is to say
— a certain Count Brandolino, Abbot of Nervesa, in
Friuli, had been thrown into prison by the Ten. The
list of crimes attributed to this man seems almost to
pass the bounds of credibility. The accusations, how-
ever, rest not only on the testimony of Sarpi, but on
the unimpeachable statement of tlie historian Morosini,
who was one of the series of authors commissioned to
write the history of his own time by the Venetian
government. This writer, who composed his history
in Latin, does not indeed enter into the particulars
which Sarpi and other historians have given, but
contents himself with saying that he was cast into
prison by the Ten, " for abominable crimes, the details
of which it is better to pass over in silence, by reason
* Sarpi, Op. cit. p. 4.
ABBOT BEAXDOLIXO. 157
of their horrible atrocity."* Sarpif and Bianchi
Giovini I enter more into particulars. Parricide,
fratricide, incest, and poisonings by wholesale, are
named as the more mentionable of his abominations.
There were still existing at that time some remains of
the feudal tenures in Friuli. This abbot, it would
seem, held his abbey as a feudal chief, and as such
made himself a terror and a horror to the whole neigh-
bourhood around him. When this tonsured monster
was transferred from his consecrated lair among the
Friuli hills to the prisons beneath the ducal palace in
Venice, it does not appear that he, or anybody on his
behalf, dreamed of raising any objection to the perfect
legality of the steps taken against him.
Very shortly afterwards, however, and probably in
the September of the same year, 1(505, another case
occurred which compelled the Ten to lay their sacri-
legious hands on another frocked offender. There
was a certain Canon Saraceni at Vicenza, a man of
one of the most distinguished patrician families of the
place, who had a cousin, a bishop, resident at Venice,
liigh in the special confidence of the Koman Court.
This worthy canon had already made himself obnoxious
to the law by an audacious act of defiance of it, in
Ineaking the seals placed by the competent authorities
on the papers belonging to a recently deceased Bishop
of Vicenza. But this act does not appear to have been
the immediate cause of his incarceration. There was
at Vicenza a young widow of remarkable beauty, a
member of the same Saraceni rninily, wbom this exem-
* Morofiiiii, IliBtorijn Vcnctia, ad. an. 1G05, toin. 7 of tbo Collection of
Venetian HiHtorians, p. 321.
t In two different workH. See the Storia Particolarc, vol. iii. p. 7 ;
and (he Conflidcrazini 8n[)ra le Censure, vol. iii. p. IDO.
Z Vita di Fra i'aoli, vol i. p. 'J34.
158 BRUTUM FULMEN.
plary ecclesiastic, abusing the access to her afforded
him by his cousinship, had for some time persecuted
with dishonourable proposals. Finding his pursuit
altogether vain, the cowardly wretch turned all his
endeavours to finding some means of revenge on the
object of it. With this view, we are told, he " filthily
defaced"* the doors of the lady's residence by night.
The lady, writes Morosini, flew in an agony of indigna-
tion to Venice, rushed into the presence of the Ten,
and implored justice against the perpetrator of this
"worst insult that could possibly be offered to a
woman," an infamous outrage, " by which her character
and honour were destroyed."
From the strength of these expressions of the grave
historian,! and still more from the fact, that the Ten
appear to have looked at the matter quite as seriously,
it might seem that something more must have been
meant by the phrases quoted in the note than the mere
perpetration of an unmeaning outrage, which any
blackguard in the street miglit at any time commit to
the offence of any citizen whatever. It is difficult to
imagine that such an act could be deemed fatal, or
even injurious, to the lady's honour. The modern
historian, Bianchi Giovini,t feeling apparently the
difficult}' of satisfactorily understanding the circum-
stances as simply related by the old historians,
writes that the Canon " determined to render her
infamous, by placarding her door with writings con-
veying the grossest insults." But I do not find, that
his interpretation of the deed rests on any other autho-
* "Domus illius fores noctu turpissime fccdaverat." — Morosini, Op. cit.
p. 320. "Venne a deturparle la porta e faccia della casa." — Sarpi, Storia
Partic. p. 5.
+ And the feeling of Sarpi upon the subject Ls not dlflferent.
J Vita di Sarpi, vol. i. p. 234.
CANON SARACENI. 159
rity than the fact, that various anecdotes are extant,
which prove that such a mode of vengeance was not
unknown to the habits of that age and country. And
even thus, it seems strange that the good name of any
one should have been deemed to lie at the mercy of so
easily perpetrated a murder of it. The circumstance,
and the importance attached to it, are in any case
curious illustrations of the social habits and feelings of
that day.
The T'en, fully sharing the lady's indignation, sent
stringent orders to the magistrates ofVicenza, to spare
no exertions in discovering the offender; and the
result was that the Canon Saraceni was very soon
lodged in the same prison which already held his
fellow-ecclesiastic, the Abbot Brandolino.
The bishop, cousin of the Vicenza canon, who was
a man so highly esteemed at Rome that the Nuncios
at Venice were ordered to confer on all points with
him, and who knew well enough that such a case as
this was exactly what Pope Paul was on the look out
for, lost no time in complaining to the Papal Court of
this " encroachment of the civil power on ecclesiastical
immunities." Nor was the similar case of Brandolino,
which seems to have been brouglit into notice by that
of the Vicenza canon, deemed too disgraceful a one to
be pressed into the same service. It was at first
maiutuined by the canon's cousin, and by a newly
appointed J>i3hop of Vicenza, who was still at Ptome,
;uid who joined his brother bishoi)in loudly demanding
tliat the imprisoned canon should be released and given
up to him as his only competent judge, tlmt the civil
magistrate could only take cognisance of offences
committed by ecclesiastics in atrocious cases; and
that the affair of Canon Saraceni was not atrocious.
160 BRUTUM FULMEN.
But no sooner was the matter laid before tlie Pope,
and this view propounded to liim, than he exclaimed
that such a doctrine fell far short of the true view of
the subject ; that in no case, atrocious or otherwise,
would he tolerate that any jurisdiction should be
assumed by any civil authority over any ecclesiastical
person whatsoever. Any attempt to do so was, he
declared, sacrilegious. Since, then, this was pro-
nounced to be the true doctrine ; the parricide,
fratricide Abbot of Nervesa was as good a case to
fight on as any other. And a similar demand was
made, that he too should be forthwith handed over to
the ecclesiastical authorities.
But when these cases were brought under the notice
of Paul v., they only served to exasperate and hasten
the explosion of wrath that was already on the point
of blazing out against the Republic respecting another
attack " on the liberties of the Church." There were
two laws, both ancient in Venice, dating indeed from
the middle of the fourteenth centmy, which had been
confirmed, one of them in 1G03, and the other, with a
new extension of its operation from the limits of
Venice itself, to all the territory of the state, in the
present j^ear, 1605. The first forbad the foundation
of any new church, monastery, or almshouse, or the
introduction of any new religious order, without
express licence from the government, under penalty of
exile and the forfeiture of all buildings and lands
turned to such uses. The second, which had existed
in Venice itself since 1333, but which was in 1005
extended to all the territory, forbad all acquisition by
ecclesiastical persons or bodies of new property in
land or houses.
The excessive number of ecclesiastical establish-
THE OBNOXIOUS LAWS. 161
ments of all kinds already existing in the city and its
territory, and the outrageons proportion of the property
of the country, of which the clergy had become pos-
sessed, rendered both these laws unquestionably wise
and necessary. It was calculated that throughout the
dominions of Venice, a fourth part, and in some
localities even a third of all the real property was in
ecclesiastical hands. As long as human nature is
what it is, and the ignorance of the masses in all ranks
is sufficiently gross for it to be possible to persuade
men and women that the wealth, for which they have
no further use in this world, may be made avail-
able for their advantage in an eternal life to come,
the class of men who claim a monopoly of the power
of so investing it will steadily progress towards the
absorption of the whole accumulated wealth of the
social body. It is needless to point out how terror is
made to play its part ; how frequently it must occur,
that those who have most to leave will be also those
most amenable to its influence, and how the same
selfish nature which has through life sought gain by
inflicting loss on others, will be the most ready to
jump at the offered means of consuming all to its own
profit, to the exclusion of others, and the neglect of
natural ties. It is superfluous to insist on the terrible
teaching of a doctrine wliicli in effect cries aloud :
" Acquire wealtli, uo matter by what means. You may
enjoy it as long as life lasts; and when you can enjoy
it no longer, you may so dispose of it, as to ease all
twinges of conscience, and nulHfy all the evil results,
which might otherwise have arisen from the nature of
the means used for its acquirement."
The engine for clerical aggrandisement thus in-
vented, is only too sure and rapid in its operation.
u
1G2 BRUTUM FULMEN.
And the result of its efficacy has ever been, either that
society has found itself compelled to provide against
its consequences by positive enactments which arbi-
trarily infringe on the riglits of property ; or that
these consequences have been violently and explosively
redressed by sudden convulsion when they have
become intolerable. But the Church of Eome acted
witli less than its usual far-sighted j)rudence, when it
insisted on addhig to this portentous facility of
acquiring property, the right of exempting the wealth
so accumulated from all contribution to the state. By
so doing, it not only injured in their pockets all that
jDortion of the civil society which was not amenable to
its cajolements — the portion therefore which was sure
to be hostile to it ; but it placed itself in opposition to
the interests of rulers, far more ready to take alarm,
and more able to take measures for their own protec-
tion, than the fleeced flock. It was on this ground,
accordingly, that the laws forbidding the acquisition
of more property by the Church had been enacted in
Venice ; and on this ground alone, that they were
defended and maintained by the Bepublic in its dis-
putes on this subject with the Pontiif. In this matter,
as in all the others which came to be debated in the
course of this memorable struggle, it is very curious
and suggestive to observe how the disputants avoided
appealing to first px'inciples. It is very curious to see
an intellect so subtle and clear and a courage so un-
daunted as those of Sarpi, either unable to apprehend,
or afraid to touch truths which to us appear so
luminous, and to the very borders of which the course
of the quarrel and of his arguments seem to lead him.
Was there an instinctive feeling at work, that these
first principles could not be appealed to without danger
THE KECESSITY OF THESE LAWS. 163
of bringing down in toppling ruin much that he
deemed society could not, or at all events not yet,
dispense with ? Or, must we suppose, that the fine
intellects engaged in these debates were really unable
to see what is now so visible to far less powerful
minds ; and put their blindness down to the incalcu-
lable influence of the stage in the world's intellectual
progress at which they stood ?
The motives on which the Venetian government had
originally based these laws, and at various subsequen
dates confirmed and renewed them, and on which it
now defended them against the opposition of the Pope,
were, as set forth in their replies to the court of Rome,
the loss which the State suff"ered by the exemption
from taxation of so large a portion of the property of
the nation, the imi)ossibility of obtaining from the
necessarily over-taxed remainder the amount of money
needed by the administration for the protection of the
country, and especially, as it was urged, for rendering
that service to Christendom in general, which Venice
had ever hitherto afforded by making herself a strong
and efficient bulwark against the infidel.
It is true that tlie Popes had long since felt them-
selves unable wholly to resist tlio plea of civil govern-
ments thus put forth. Tliey had accordingly been in
tbc Ijabit of according special permission for the taxing
of the clergy at the request of the civil power to a
certain extent, and in their own way. They permitted
the sovereign to receive " tenths," or " decime," and
had no objection thus to place tlie civil ruler in a i)osi-
tion of acknowledged inferiority by the acceptance of
the aid so permitted to be levied by tlje superior eccle-
siastical power ; especially as the " decime " were i)aid
by money, wliicli diil not come out of their own pockets.
u 2
164. BRUTUM FULMEN.
But the Venetians explained at length to the Roman
court, what was no doubt perfectly well known there
before, that in no case were these " tenths " anything
approaching to an adequate equivalent for the taxes,
which would have been paid on the same property, had
it been in lay hands.
Such representations produced little effect, as may
be imagined, on Paul V. His indignation was excited
to a pitch of fury by laws, which he declared, " had the
effect of i)lacing the Church in a worse position than
that held by any private individual, or even by one
disgraced and infamous." * And it was while he was
preparing to pour out the phials of his wrath on the
audacious republicans for their offences in this kind,
that the two cases of ecclesiastics imprisoned by the
civil power were brought under his notice.
Paul summoned the Venetian ambassador residing
in Eome to his presence; and when the republican
patrician came before him, the Pontiff's face, as more
than one contemporary chronicler has registered, was
dark and lowering, and threatened storms.
* Paolo Quinto, etc., p. 1, see Note 2, at eud of Volume.
CHAPTEE III.
Inteririew between the Pope and the Venetian amliassador. — Tactics of the
Venetian Senate. — Paul's complaints. — His passionate bearing. — Low-
ground taken by the ambassador. — Speech of Paul. — The ambassador's
reply. — Advantages in argument which he gives to the Pope. — Paul
neglects these. — The Nuncio presents himself before the College of
State in Venice. — His insolence and violence. — Respect paid to his
ecclesiastical character. — lleply of the College. — Hostilities between
Borne and Venice begin from these two interviews.
It was on tlie 21st of October, that Agostino Nani,
the Venetian ambassador, was summoned to the Pon-
tiff's presence, as mentioned at the end of the last
cliapter. His letter to the Senate giving an account of
the interview is dated the 22nd. In the account of it,
as of all the other personal communications with the
Pope, the reader is struck by the extremely humble
and obsequious tone adopted by the representatives of
the P^epublic, It is true that they give him only fair
words, that their obsequiousness never goes to the
length of acceding to any one of his demands, or even
of holding out any hope that they ever would be
acceded to. The general tenor of tlieir tactics seems
to be mainly to gain time, to induce the Pope to put
off taking any decisive step yet a little longer. It is
iibundantly evident that llie Ilcpublic would gladly
have avoided coming to a rupture with the Holy See, if
it had been possible to avoid it by any means short of
recognising in the Pope an authority in any respect
166 BRUTUM FULMEN-.
superior to their own civil government. But this they
were determined not to do.
The Pojje began the interview on the 21st of October
by speaking at length on the affairs of Hungary and
the Turk. In tliis matter the ambassador was alto-
gether unable to meet his wishes ; for Venice was quite
determined not to begin a gratuitous war with neigh-
bours, who were so profitable to them in peace, and
who might be so dangerous to them in war. Paul,
already irritated by the evident determination of the
Eepublic not to fall in with his plans on a subject
which he had so much at heart, then proceeded to the
other matters, on which, as having " a greater pretext
of spirituality," he had determined to take his stand
for the purpose of " mortifjdng," as he said, "the over-
weening audacity of the secular rulers of the world."
He had another matter to speak of, he said, his tall
commanding figure becoming rigid, and his handsome
face darkening as he spoke, w'hich was little creditable
to the vaunted piety of the Ptepublic. The law, which
during the interregnum following the death of Clement
VIII. , Venice had passed, prohibiting legacies and
gifts to pious uses, was not to be borne. It was in
flagrant contradiction to the canons of the Council of
Trent, and to every constitution of the Empire ; and
must be at once rescinded.
" Holy Father ! " said I,* " our Senate has always
an anxious care for the welfare of religion, for which,
as your Holiness well knows, Venice has so often shed
her blood. As to the law in question, I will not under-
take now to speak respecting it ; because I was here
when it was passed. But I cannot doubt that it was
* The ambassador, Agostino Nani, giving a report of the interview to
the Senate.
PAUL AND THE AMBASSADOR. 167
based on perfectly just and reasonable motives, and
that 3'our Holiness will on further examination find
that you have no cause to complain of it."
But the Pope, losing his temper more and more,
broke in, exclaiming, that such an ordinance did not
deserve the name of law. Those who had concocted
such a scheme had, by the very fact, incurred the
heaviest spiritual penalties, from which the Vicar of
Christ alone could release them. " Let the senators
look to their own consciences ! " he cried, " for the
line of conduct they have adopted is openly scandalous
and pregnant with the gravest disorder ! It is impos-
sible to defend it on any ground ! "
The ambassador replied, that the character of
Venice for devotion was well known, and of ancient
date — that no Pontiff had ever before complained of
similar laws;* — that if the State permitted in Venice,
as in other countries, that the right of bequeathing
property to laymen should be denied to members of
religious orders for the profit of the Church, it was
reasonable that laymen should, in the interest of the
State, be denied the riglit of bequeathing their goods
to the Church ; — that on property to the amount of a
million and a half of ducats possessed by ecclesiastical
persons, the State received only about from thirty-six
to forty thousand ducats by way of tenths.
But, " his Holiness only rei)lied in a manner which
showed him to ]>q greatly inflamed by anger ; and
after some further altercation, 1 promised to write to
tiie Senate on the subject."
He tlif'U turned to tlie question of the iiii])ris()ned
* It will lie remembered that tlie lawH in fjiication had recently been
only ''innrmud aud extended in their operation to the whole territory of
the HUiie.
168 BliUTUM rULMEN.
ecclesiastics, and said he had been much grieved to
hear of anotlier attack on the spiritual i^ower, of which
the civil government of Venice had been guilty. He
requested that it might be looked to, and remedied at
once, that he might not be constrained to take some
resolution which would be disagreeable to the Senate.
To this the ambassador once more respectfully
replied, that former Popes had granted briefs by which
it was permitted to Venice to exercise such jurisdic-
tion, and that these briefs could be produced. He says
not a word, it is to be observed, of the right of every
State to exercise civil jurisdiction over all its members.
He justifies the act of Council, only as a special
privilege granted to them by papal authority. And
surely this was an error on the part of worthy Agostino
Nani. For that which one Pope had granted, another
could take away. And it would have been in every
way better and more dignified to have openl}'- said,
wliat the Senate was in reality well determined to
maintain, that it was the province and the duty of the
civil magistrate to administer justice to all members
of /the community alike. The " fortiter in re," the
Senate was well determined on ; but it is curious and
characteristic of the epoch to observe how very anxious
it was to use the " suaviter in modo " in treating with
the overbearing and despotic Pontiff.
To Nani's moderate and respectful observations Paul
replied : " We too. Sir Ambassador, know what is due
to the temporal power of the State, and are ready to
defend and maintain it, — ay, even by chastising any
who would disturb it. But we are equally minded, and
we say it with all the strength of determination we
possess, to keep to ourselves the spiritual jurisdiction.
We are placed in the seat we occupy for the conserva-
PAUL PERORATES. 169
tion of this jurisdiction, and we purpose doing so -with
all our power, and with all our strength, even to the
shedding of blood. God knows the motives that lead
us to speak thus ! " he added, with a change of manner
to a lofty dignity of bearing, which none better knew
how to assume than Paul V. " That which I now say
to your lordship, I say equally to all the ministers of
the lay Princes in Christendom." Then raising his
hands and eyes, he exclaimed, " How is it possible
that a lay ruler should wish to meddle with the exercise
of jurisdiction over a Canon ! "
The bathos of this peroration, absurd as it seems to
us, only serves to mark the immeasurable width of the
gulf which separates the feelings and ideas of a
seventeenth century Pope, and a seventeenth century
statesman, from those of a nineteenth century English-
man on the subject in hand. For Camillo Borghese,
though a narrow-minded bigot, was not a fool, nor by
any means a man to let his passion betray him into
making himself ridiculous in the eyes of his con-
temi)orarifts. To him the act which the Senate had
ventured un, was uufeignedly a subject of dismay and
abomination. And to the Senator, who was called on
to defend tlie deed, it bore the aspect of a bold and
hazardous step, — right indeed in itself, and justifiable to
tlie more advanced i)ortion of European public opinion,
but still serious in the extreme, and requiring mature
consideration and much circumspection in the hand-
ling.
His reply to the Pope's burst of indignation was
temporising, and would seem indeed to abandon tho
principle, which was being contended for, and to admit
u portion at least of the Pontiffs position. I>nf. tho
ambassador's lin of argument is only a sample of the
170 BRUTUM FULMEN.
tone adopted by the Venetians throughout tlie dispute,
avoiding to do battle on broad principles, contenting
themselves with repelling encroachment by counter
encroachment, and satisfied if they could contrive to
do what they wished, and then by any means get on
without being constrained to undo it.
The ambassador represented to his Holiness, that
the offences charged against the Canon Saraceni were
of a very grave character. He urged the fact, that the
man was not in full orders, having only received the
first, or deacon's ordination, which did not confer any
indelible sacred character. And he then returned to
speak of the possession by the Republic of briefs by
former Popes, conferring on them the disputed right,
and especially urging the antiquity of these concessions.
The Pope, it may seem, would have done well to have
seized on the admissions his adversary thus impru-
dently allowed to fall from him. He should have said,
" You allow then, that if the offence were not of deep
dye, the civil tribunal could claim no jurisdiction ?
You admit further that you can exercise it only on
persons in deacons' orders in any case. And you
concede finally that even the jurisdiction thus limited
can only be exercised by a lay magistrate by virtue of
special permission from the Holy See." Surely the
Pope would thus have placed himself on very strong
ground. And the ambassador knew at the time he
was speaking that tliere was then lying in the prisons
of the Ten a priest in full orders — the Abbot
Brandolino !
Paul, however, either because his lofty and unbend-
ing pride would not suffer him to accei)t, even as an
instalment of what he wished, anything short of entire
submission and obedience, or because his anger was so
STORMY SKIES ! l71
hot as to blind him to the advantage of the position he
might thus have taken up, answered the ambassador,
" with yet more violence of passion than he had yet
manifested, or than was usual with him : " *
" Sii- Ambassador," he cried, raising his voice, " We
know nothing of the concessions of which you speak,
nor of anything they may contain. Nor does it matter
aught, that this Canon is not in full orders. It is
enough that he is a Canon, and has received the first
ordination. Canons are senators of the Church."
And here again the Pope seems on his side to admit
by inference, that if the man had been only a deacon,
and not a Canon, he luould have been amenable to the
lay tribunal. Yet it was far from his intention to
admit anything of the sort. But the more immediate
object of his Holiness seems to have been simply to
reply by a direct contradiction of what the ambassador
had said.
Agostino Nani retired from this stormy interview to
write an account of it to his Court, with feelings
probably of no light anxiet}^ anent the issues of the
tempest which was evidently brewing. The demea-
nour of the Pontilf had been such as to leave small
hope that anything sliort of unconditional submission
on the part of the Republic would content him ; and
the ambassador knew liis countrymen luid fellow
patricians and their policy too well, to imagine that
there was any cliance of this.
He sent off liis report on the 22nd of October, and
raul must have sent instructions, arising out of his
conversation with the amlnissador, probably on the
same day; for on tlie 2Hth of the same mouth ^lon-
• Cornet, Oji. cit. p. 3,
173 BRUTUM FULMEN.
signore the Nuncio presented himself before " the
College," * and announced tliat he had a communication
to make to the Republic on behalf of his Holiness.
If Paul V. in all his pride of place in the Vatican
had been inclined to browbeat and bully the respectful
ambassador, who could only reply to the Holy Father
with bated breath and the most guarded moderation,
Paul's representative, when standing before the grave
majesty of the Republic, was not inclined to abate one
jot of his master's lofty tone and exaggerated pre-
tensions. Indeed the subordinate even outdid his
principal in violence and passion. He told them with
haughty gesture and raised voice that " he would have
the obnoxious laws repealed ;" and insisted that the
two imprisoned ecclesiastics should at once without
farther delay be handed over to their ecclesiastical
superiors. Assuredly no layman, of whatever majesty
he might have been the representative, would at that
day have ventured to speak in the tone adoj^ted by the
insolent priest in that presence. There did not exist
in Europe at that epoch an assembly more reverend
and imposing from the character and dignity of the
individuals composing it, and from the majesty and
prestige of the power it represented, than the highest
Council of the Venetian RepubHc. Yet such was still
in that day the respect for the sacerdotal character,
and the reverential awe inspired by the poor passion-
driven mortal, whom men had agreed to call the
representative of God on eai'th, that it needed more
courage to enable Agostino Nani to stand the brunt of
the Pope's indignation without yielding everything to
it, than it did for the malapert priest, Orazio Mattei, to
* See Note 3, at end of Volume.
THE NUNCIO BEFORE THE COLLEGE. 173
beard the Veuetian " College" with his ranting. The
battle of words was less unequal in the council hall of
the ducal palace in Venice, than it had been in the
presence chamber of the Vatican,
The reply to be given to the Nuncio had already,
according to the usual practice, been debated and
agreed to in the Senate. But on hearing the aggres-
sive and violent speech of that minister, Zorzi Alvisi,
one of the Senators sitting in the Council, turned to
his assessors on either side of him, and held a short
consultation with them before replying. The Council
would not condescend to notice the overweening
insolence of the proud priest's bearing, much less to
imitate his loss of temper and violence. But it was
deemed necessary that the assumptions on which the
Nuncio based his demands should be very distinctly
repudiated and disallowed. This Zorzi did " very
rigidly," we are told. It were to be wished that in
this case the old diarists had preserved for us the
words used, as they have done on several occasions.
They have not been given by any of the narrators of
this memorable session. But we cannot doubt that
Zorzi's " rigid" denial of the theories put forward by
the Nuncio did not leave so much ground optii to
papal encroachment as had been done by Nani iu his
replies to the Pope.
From the date of these two interviews, — that of the
ambassador Nani with the Pope on the 22nd of
<')ctober, and that of the Nuncio with the Venetian Col-
lege of State on the 2Hth of the same month, — the hos-
tilities between the two powers may be said to have
commenced. Matters stood in exactly the same
position in which these interviews left them, when
the Interdict was deiiuitively launched. And if
17-i BRUTUM rULMEN.
some (lelny and a good deal of negotiation was
expended between this time and that, it Avas only
because Paul, despite his obstinacy and his passion,
hesitated to take the veiy important step, which might
lead to consequences beyond all prevision, but wliich
yet he was fully determined to venture on, if he
should fail to extort compliance with his demands by
either persuasion or threats.
CHAPTER IV.
Ambassadors extraordinary sent to Rome by the Republic. — The Pope's
fraudulent trickery in the matter of calling the Patriarch to Rome. —
Negotiations and delays. — Paul led to form false hopes by the Jesuits.
— Views and expectations of the Republic. — Report of the ambassador's
second audience. — Bad political economy of the Senate. — Violent
threats of the Pope. — Fresh instructions from the Senate to the
ambassador. — Unanimous vote of the Senate on the reply to be made
to the Nuncio. — Paul commands two briefs to be prepared. — Report
of a third audience of the Pope. — Paul's declaration of his unlimited
authority. — The briefs are dispatched.
Agostixo Nani was, as has been seen, the resident
Venetian ambassador at Rome. But it was customary
for the Republic always on the accession of a new Pope
to send an Embassy extraordinary, composed of
several noble citizens, to congratulate him, and assure
him of tlie respect and obedience of the Republic. On
tlie occasion of Paul's elevation, Leonardo Donato,
Francesco Vendramino, Francesco Molin, and
Giovanni Moccnigo were elected to this duty. The
first of these, however, had been subsc(|ucntly excused
on the score of his advanced age ; and the Cavalier
Pietro Duodo had been selected in his place. And as
tlic second, Vendramino, had on the death of the patri-
arch Zuni been elected patriarch, he could not form
part of tiic Embassy; and tbo Cavalicrc Francesco
Contarini was chosen to replace him.
These four representatives of their country also took
part in the negotiations going on during these days
176 BRQTUM FULMEN.
between the two governments. They had been
specially directed to press on the Pope to allow the
new patriarch to take possession of his see without
insisting on his coming to Rome. On the 5th of
November they wrote to the Senate, that the Pope
shortly declaimed he would never consent to this; would
not indeed enter on the matter, but bade them write to
the Senate on the necessity of immediately satisfying
him on the subject of the ecclesiastical jurisdiction.
The Senate on their part were fully as determined
that the patriarch should not go to Rome. They had
consented, as has been seen, that his predecessor Zani
should go, on the understanding that he was to be
received there only as coming on a complimentary visit
to his Holiness. The Pope, when he received him,
entered into conversation with him, and asked him
certain questions, which he affected, as soon as they
had been answered, to consider as the examination
which it had been expressly stipulated he should not
undergo. The Senate was indignant at the dishonest
trick ; but " feeling that what was done could not
be mended, contented themselves with determining
that no future patriarch should on any pretence go to
Rome on taking possession of his see." And they
fully carried out their resolution.
The whole of this November and the first ten days
of the following month were occupied in active negotia-
tions, in which the utmost efforts of either party failed
of moving their opponents one jot from the ground each
had taken up. The same demands are reiterated again
and again, and the same excuses and justifications are
offered. The Pope is slow in acquiring the conviction
that the Republic can really intend to brave all the
thunders of the Church, rather than yield the points
COXFESSOES' EEPORTS. 177
in disjiute ; slow also, though at the bottom of his heart
fully determined, to come to the extremity of launch-
ing those thunders. For he did not disguise from
himself all the portentous seriousness of the step, and
its possible consequences ; though he was probably too
much blinded by his exaggerated estimate of his own
position and power to share the misgiving of the wiser
among his counsellors, who even in that day had
begun to feel uneasy at the reflection, that a spiritual
thunderbolt launched, and disregarded, might prove a
l)henomenon more dangerous to Eome than all the
disobediences and encroachments of which Venice was
likely to be guilty.
The Pope and his representative at Venice, Mattei,
puffed up by the easy victories which the Holy See
had recently won against almost every state in the
Catholic world ; passionate and violent men both of
them, and nursed by the studies and prejudices of
their whole lives in the notion of Rome's irresistibility,
evidently lioped to the last that the Senate would give
in when they should be convinced of the Pope's deter-
mination to proceed to extremes. They were more espe-
cially encouraged in this delusion by the secret reports
of confessors, principally Jesuits, who had nominally,
and flattered themselves that they had rcallij, the
consciences of several of tlie leading senators in their
keeping,* These dangerous confidants, judging fioiu
the intercourse of the confessional, felt sure that manj'
of tlicir penitents would, wlion the day of struggle
came, give tlieir votes in the Senate chamber against
any measure? which should expose them personally to
spiritual dangers. The result showed how delusive
• Gurnet, Op. cit., p. viii.
178 BRUTUM FULMEN.
such calcuLitions were, despite the famed subtlety of
those able fathers, and the perfect knowledge of men
which the " direction of their consciences " was sup-
posed to furnish. Men acting in a corporate capacity
together with others, will, it is often said, be guilty of
evil actions of which individually they would have
been incapable. But it is equally true, that they
often, in such circumstances, rise to acts of virtue and
courage which acting singly they could not have
reached. Patriotism, rightful indignation, and courage
are as infectious in a crowd as selfishness and panic
terror. These Venetian keepers of patrician con-
sciences made up their reports to head-quarters
without allowing for this difference between the con-
fessional and the Senate chamber. They could not
comprehend the advantage which the atmosphere of
the latter gave to the natural conscience in enabling it
to throw off the tangled web of sophistries from which,
in a tete-d-tete of spider and fly, it had been unable to
release itself.
The rulers of the Republic, on their side, do not
appear to have been lulled asleep in any similar fool's
paradise. Tliey knew the nature of the man they had
to deal with ; their ambassadors never from the first
held out any expectation that they would be able to
move the Pope from his resolve ; and when the bolt
came there are no symptoms to be observed of dismay,
or of having been taken by surprise. But though •
steadily looking forward to the catastrophe, they would
not do anything to precipitate it. They were espe-
cially anxious to carry the public opinion of Europe
with them in the struggle ; and it is interesting to
mark their solicitude on this point, as it is indicative
of the rapid recent growth of such a thing as an
THE NUXCIO SUMMONED. 179
European public opinion, and of its existence at that
day in greater power than it has possessed at some
subsequent periods of European history. They were
also glad to procrastinate. No man in all Venice was
unaware of the very serious nature and possible conse-
quences of the position in which the State was about
to be placed. Both Senate and people would have
deemed it an immense advantage to have escaped from
that position at any price short of compromising the
independence and honour of the Republic. And all
delay brought chances with it ; Paul might die, and all
the political horizon be changed, as by a theatrical
shift of scene. Indeed the Pope on one occasion taxes
the Senate with striving to procrastinate, in the hope
of his death, and bids them put no trust in such
tactics.
These diflferences in the temper, character, and
constitution of the two governments, and of the
individuals composing them, are brought out in the
course of the complicated negotiations, which occupied
the next five weeks, in a manner that will make it worth
while to follow them as briefly as may be.
On the 8th,* the Nuncio was summoned by the
" I'ien' CoUegio," to hear the formal rei)ly to the
ilemands he had made on the occasion which has been
described. Of course it was merely a recapitulation
of wliat had then been said to liim.
On the 19th came other letters from Nani, giving an
account of a second interview with the Pope. Begin-
ning with the case of l>randolino, he said that here again
was anotlicr gross attack on the sjiiritual power ; that
the Venetians were always heaping up injuries against
• November, 1G05.
ISO BRUTUM FULMEN.
the Holy See, " and Avhen I spoke in defence of tlie
measures of the government, the Pope remained
exceedingly attentive to what I said, with very severe
looks and intently fixed eyes, but writhing his body
now and again in a manner that indicated his extreme
impatience at what I was saying. Then he answered,
that from his youth up he had been versed in these
matters, that, as auditor of the Sacred Chamber, he
had had such affairs on his hands, and was competent
to speak of them with authority. His motives, he
said, were only zeal for the service of God and His
holy religion. No other considerations had any weight
with him. As for his own family they were born
private gentlemen, and he was desirous that they should
die as such, and not as princes."
What striking evidence of his sincerity is afforded to
the entire world by the existence of Borghese titles,
principalities, gardens, palaces, galleries, alliances,
may be noted in passing !
" But he was resolved to uphold with all his power
the liberties of the Church and the honour of God, let
what would be the consequences As for the
pretence that such things had been done in past times
in Venice, it could only have arisen from the negligence
of some former minister of the Holy See, that the
abuse was not at once looked into and remedied."
He then went on to argue at length against the
existence of any right in the civil power to interfere
with the disposition of the property of individuals, in a
manner which proves him to have been wholly without
any conception of the real theoretical bases on which
society and social rights rest.
The ambassador, as usual, refrained from appealing
to any such fundamental principles. He either was
POPE AND THE AMBASSADOR. 181
equally ignorant of them, or more probably deemed it
useless or imprudent to enter on the discussion of
them. He contented himself with observing that as
the Council of Trent had reserved to the spiritual
authority the right of withholding its consent to the
sale of property by ecclesiastics to laymen, so a similar
right necessarily appertained to the civil power of
restraining tlieir lay subjects from selling to church-
men. He added, that the law in question was not
intended to operate to the disadvantage of religious
liouses really in need of aid, but to prevent the rich
communities from absorbing all the revenues of the
State. Tlie friars of St. Giustina at Padua, for
instance, if they were allowed to purchase freely, would
very soon become possessors of the best part of the
])rovince of Padua. Clement VIII. himself, he reminded
the Pope, ..had found it necessary, in his capacity of
temporal prince, to prohibit the holy house of Loretto
from acquiring more real property. Moreover, the
Senate did not even prevent the ecclesiastical bodies
from being enriched, but only required that they should
diange the nature of real property left them by selling
it, and investing the money in other ways, even in
foreigii countries if they pleased ; the only demand
beinf that they should not remain holders of houses
or lands witliin tlic Venetian territory, beyond those
they already possessed.
All whicli indicates no less the moderation of the
Venetian government, and their great desire to avoid
driving matters to extremity, than it proves, supposing
tliey really meant what their ainbassad(jr said, their
primitive ignorance of the first principles of ])<)Iitical
economy.
The ambassador concluded by saying tliut he reraem-
182 BRUTUM FULMEN.
bered having read in St. Augustine that it was not
permissible for a fatlier to disinlierit Lis children for
the purpose of enriching the Church.
Upon tliis Paul broke out, "witli much more ■violent
passion and vehemence than before," crying out that
St. Augustine had never said anything of the kind,
but had only told those who had consulted him on the
subject to seek advice from others rather than from
him ; as for Pope Clement and the house of Loretto,
it did not in any wise follow that a temporal sovereign
might do that which it was lawful for a spiritual ruler
to do.
Further attempts at argument only excited the Pope
to more ungovernable anger. " With incredible agita-
tion and exceeding passion, he finished by saying that
he was placed in the seat he held by the omnipotent
God himself for the supporting of the ecclesiastical
jurisdiction ; " and that if the Senate did not at once
repeal the laws of which he complained, he should
proceed without delay to ulterior measures, "although
it would grieve him to give certain parties cause to
rejoice over the discord between Venice and the Holy
See ! "
The " certain parties " he alluded to were the
Spanish court, whose political views would have
been well seconded by a quarrel between Rome and
the Republic.
Nani attempted yet once again to refer to the privi-
leges and concessions contained in the briefs of former
Popes. " There is no archive of Pontifical briefs save
here in Rome," replied Paul sharply : " what you
possess are merely rough drafts of briefs, and I will
wager my rochet that no authentic briefs are in existence
in Venice concerning this matter. If you have any
ANSWER TO THE NUNCIO. 183
such," said lie, dismissing tlie ambassador, "let tliem
be produced."
On the 26th, the Senate wrote again to the ambas-
sador, ordering him to make another attempt to move
the Pojie ; and to urge that if Venice were weakened,
as she would necessarily be by the loss of authority
Home wished to impose on her, she would no longer
be able to afford that bulwark against the Infidel
which she had always hitherto furnished, and that all
Christendom would be sufferers by her weakness. He
was told at the same time to let the Pope very clearly
understand, " in sufficiently efficacious words," that
the Senate would never be brought to rescind its
determination.
On the 1st of December, 1G05, the Senate deliberated
on the answer to be given to the Nuncio, in reply to
liis reiterated importunities that the papal demands
should be complied with. The Senators had received
the ambassador's report of his interview above de-
scribed with the Pope, and the result was an iinaniinous
vote tliat he should be told that " the Ptepublic recog-
nised in the temporal government of their states no
superior save God alone." And the resolution thus
])assed without one dissentient voice, says Sarpi, " was
signified to the Nuncio, and written to Ptome to prove
to the Pope the unanimity of the Venetians in the
defence of their liberties, and to tal<c. iVom liini nil
those hopes which he liad founded on that division
MMiong the Senators which tlu; Jesuits l»ad promised
liini."* AVlicu this reply was communicated to liim by
the Nunc-io, Piuil at once gave orders for the drawing
up of two briefs addressed to the Kepublic : one against
• Sfiriji, Storia Particolare, p. 9.
184 BRUTUM FULMEN.
the laws on the subject of the acquisition of property
by ecclesiastics, and the other against the invasion of
the spiritual jurisdiction b}'' the civil magistrate in the
matter of the two imprisoned churchmen.
But in the meantime the Senate did not relax in
their efforts to induce the Pope to hear reason. Their
ambassador's description of the passionate heat with
which the Pope had spoken in the different audiences
he had had on these matters, perhaps induced the
Senators to hope that so violent a man might be subject
to change of moods, as is usually the case. The com-
bination of tenacious obstinacy with extreme violence
of temper, as exhibited by Paul, is a less common
idiosyncrasy.
On tlie 2nd of December, Agostino Nani had again
audience of the Pope. Paul received him " with a
certain ill-omened smile, which betokened his infinite
disgust " at the reports he had received from his Nuncio
of the answers made to his demands by the Senate.
And while the assiduous ambassador went over once
again the arguments put forward by the Piejiublic, the
Pope " kept continually twisting with his hands the
button of liis cassock — a sure sign with him of im-
patience ; shutting his right eye, which with liim is a
natural indication of rising passion, and smiHng now
and then in a manner that showed he was not paying
the slightest attention to a word the ambassador was
saying." Poor ambassador Nani in such tremendous
circumstances, thus anxiously watching these portentous
signs, reminds one of the showman, who, with his head
in the lion's mouth, calls out, " Is he wagging his tail ?
for if so, it is all over with me ! " The signs in fact
were equally fatal, for Paul's unwonted bearing arose
no doubt from the internal reflection that he had settled
VENETIAN VIEW OF THE STATE OF EUROPE. 1S5
the matter by deciding on the launching of the two
briefs he had ordered to be prepared.
But the irritable old man could not long contain
himself. On the ambassador touching again on what
Clement had done in the case of the holy house of
Loretto, " he interrupted me before I had done," ex-
claiming that examples drawn from the conduct of the
Head of the Church could prove nothing, inasmuch
as " he has supreme authority, Avhich consists not in
confessing and receiving the Sacrament, but extends to
quite other matters." Nani, however, returning to the
charge, attempted to point out the serious risks that a
quarrel pushed to extremes with Venice might entail
on the Church. He implored the Holy Father to
" reflect on the dangers that threatened all Christendom
from the Turk, and the quarrel between the Grisons
and Spain respecting the fort of Fuentes ; " he vu'ged
him to " bethink him of England wholly lost to the
Catholic Church ; of the little that remained truly alive
in Germany; of France vacillating ; of Spain suffering
from fever in her entrails on account of the INIoors."
He reminded him that " little sure ground remained to
the Church out of Italy, within which the greenest spot
of true Catholicism was Venice."
But Paul was too intent on his own small views to
be capable of giving his mind to the larger ones of the
Venetian ; and showed, as tlie anonymous chronicler
who has preserved these details * remarks, how hopeless
was the task of enlightening him, and how far away
his mind was from the subjects on which the ambassador
was speaking so earnestly, by intcrru])ting him to com-
plain (a new thought a[)parently) that the sin of the
• Cornet, Op. cit. p. 11.
ISG BRUTUM FULMEN.
Republic in passing those sacrilegious laws was ren-
dered the more grievous from their having selected
Holy Thursday of all days in the year for the per-
petration of the deed !
This last unexpected shot seems to have shut up the
unhappy ambassador altogether, for the audience
thereupon was brought to a conclusion by the Pope
majestically saying as he dismissed him, "We are
above all men, and God has given us power over all
men : we can depose kings, and do yet more than that.
Especially our power is over those things which tend
to a supernatural end ; " — qua tendunt ad fincm supra-
naturalem. These last words were pronounced by the
Pope in Latin* What did he mean by them? Did
he mean that his authority would be miraculously sup-
ported in such sort as to render those nmndane and
natural considerations which the Ambassador had been
submitting to him of no importance ?
And so the last attempt at negotiation before firing
the first shot of the battle was brought to a conclusion.
Agostino Nani, practised diplomatist and courtier as
he may have been, had not yet learned to know the
man lie had to deal with. For it appears from his
report to the Senate that, notwithstanding all those
ominous smiles and signs, so carefully recorded, he was
led by the greater tranquillity of the Pope's manner to
flatter himself that he had made some little progress
in bringing the Pontiff into a more moderate frame of
mind.
But the very day after this audience tlie two briefs
were dispatched, sealed, and addressed, To Marino
Grimani, Doge ; and to the Republic of Venice.
* Cornet, Op. cit. p. 11.
CHAPTER V.
— ♦ —
The argximents put forward by the Eepublic did not deserve to prevail. —
And why ? — Sarpi consulted by the Kepublic. — Protestant views at
that day. — The Senate decides on sending an extraordinary ambas-
sador to Rome. — Nuncio is informed of it. — The policy of France. —
Cardinals murmur at the sending of tlie briefs. — The Senate sends
letters to the various Courts. — Paul orders the instant presentation of
the briefs. — Means adopted by the Pope for keeping the departure of
a courier from the knowledge of the Venetian ambassador. — Remark-
able scene ia the ducal palace. — The Nuncio presents the briefs. —
The death of Grimani.
The arguments so perseveringly pressed on the
Pontiff b}' the ambassador on behalf of the Pepublic
were, it has been seen, wholly unavailing. Pope Paul
only winked his right eye, twisted his buttons, and
gave other equally significant indications of a wholly
unconvinced and unconvinceable state of mind. But
it must be confessed that the arguments in question
deserved no better fate than they met with. The)'
were all mere fencing and diplomatic sword-play.
Neither the defence put forward by the Senate nor the
rejoinders of the Pontiff really expressed the genuine
thoughts and aims of either i)arty. The logical incon-
sistency of the position assumed by the Senate resem-
bles the answer of a defendant wiio ])leads first that he
(lid not do what is charged agninst him, and secondly,
that he was justified in doing it. The references and
counter-references to St. Augustine, the citation of
ISS BRUTUM FULMEN.
briefs, which conferred the jjru'iZ6\7C of doing that
which the fundamental law of all society gave them the
right to do, the attempt to base on precedent claims
and rights which, to be living and fruitful, should have
been based on principle, were all so much beating about
the bush, in hope of escaping the scratches that miglit
have ensued from boldly marching through it. Once
for a moment the real meaning and scope of the Re-
public flashes out in that unanimous vote of the Senate,
that tlie government of Venice recognised no superior
save God alone. As genuinely, too, was the true feel-
ing and intent of the Pontiff expressed in that final
reply to all the arguments drawn from expediency, in
which he enunciated the true papal theory that he was
above all men and above all law, divinely entrusted
with unlimited and irresponsible authority over all the
earth, and empow^ered to make and unmake kings,
" and do j'et more than that."
It cannot be imagined that such men as then ruled
Venice, and conducted the warfai'e witli Rome, were
blind to the logical inconsistencies, short-comings, and
perpetually recurring cases of non causa pro causa,
which marked the repi'esentations made by them to the
Pontiff. It is above all impossible to suppose that
"the terrible friar" was thus ignorant and incompe-
tent. And he had alreadj^ as we shall see, been called
on to advise the government on these matters. But
with regard to Sarpi's share in the conduct of the
struggle, it must be borne in mind all along, that we
are not to suppose that he had carte -hkinche from the
Republic to fight tlie battle in his own way. It may
or may not have been that, had the case been so, he
would have deemed it expedient to take a bolder, more
straightforward, and more logical course. But his
SAEPfs LINE OF ARGUMENT. 189
duty was that of theological adviser to the govern-
ment. " What theological defence, according to the
admitted doctrines and principles of the science, can
be found for such and such a step, or against such and
such a papal claim ? " was the question submitted to
him ; not, " What is the position which a civil govern-
ment ought to assume towards the spiritual teachers
of the people in accordance with the most enlightened
doctrines of progressive civilisation ? " Father PauFs
answer to the second demand would in all probability
have been a very different one from any which he was
ever at liberty to enunciate. And his controversial
works, — a category which indeed embraces all his
writings that have reached us, — appear to unfair disad-
vantage to readers of our day who are not constantly
mindful of this. Fighting against tremendous odds in
a world, no section of which would have supported
him had the principles he fought for and their legiti-
mate and necessary consequences been clearly set be-
fore them, all that he could hope was to make good a
point liere and gain a step there, the immediate
and smaller purpose of which was to alleviate a little
the weight of the ecclesiastical yoke while its ulterior
and infinitely more important use was to serve as a
secured stepping-stone to further progress.
Nor must it be imagined that the Protestant point of
view of our day at all resembles that of Sarpi's Pro-
testant contemporaries. His intimate ami nnuli
esteemed friend Bedell would have been as little dis-
posed as any Bossuet or Doctor of the Sorbonnc to
sanction all the inevitable deductions and consequences
involved in the ])ositions taken up by the strict and
ascetic friar. Sarpi himself saw, doubtless, only a
small part of these consequences. And it is impos-
100 BRUTUM FULMEN.
sible to say how large was the part wliich was hid
from him.
The two " hortatory " briefs were on their way from
Rome. But the Senate, while yet ignorant of the
dispatch of them, decided, on the 15th of December,
that the Nuncio should be summoned and told that the
government had decided on producing for the Pope
the old briefs, on which they based their right to
exercise jurisdiction over ecclesiastical persons ; and
that these, together with a large collection of prece-
dents, in which various offences committed by ecclesi-
astics had been condemned by the civil magistrate in
Venice, should be forwarded to their ambassador at
Rome, for the Pope's inspection.
On the ICth, the Senate voted the appointment of
an ambassador extraordinary to Piome, " the import-
ance of the matters now pending with the Holy See
requiring such a measure." The anxiety of the Senate
to avoid an open rupture is unmistakeable, — if only it
could be accomplished without abandoning the position
they had assumed. On that same evening, Giacomo
Girardo, Secretary to the College, waited on the Nuncio
to inform him of this decision, and at the same time
to tell him that the noble Cavaliere Lunardo (or
Leonardo) Donato had been selected for this office.
The Nuncio, in reply, spoke very highly of the excel-
lent qualities of the envoy elect ; but added, " I know
not whether this measure is sufficient; for I have
exceedingly strict and peremptory orders, in case the
Senate does not forthwith comply with the demands I
have made on behalf of his Holiness." His meaning
was to intimate, that this appointment of a new envoy
might not suffice to cause him to suspend the hostile
measures he insinuated he was commissioned to pro-
FRENCH POLICY. 191
ceed with. And it was hence concluded that the send-
ing of the briefs had been finally determined on at an
earlier day than was apparent; and that the Nuncio
already knew that they were on their way to Venice.
But this threatening tone may more likely have been
merely a part of Mattel's ordinarily aggressive and
bullying policy.
On the 17th of December the Senate wrote to their
ambassador at Rome, ordering him to communicate to
the Pope that an envoy extraordinary was about to be
sent, who, it was hoped, would be able to convince him
of the good intentions of Venice towards the Holy See.
In the same letter Nani was directed to thank certain
cardinals and ambassadors of the foreign states re-
siding at Rome for their good offices with the Pope,
and especially the ambassador of France. This was
Alincourt, who had arrived there in July, 1G05. The
policy of France in the matter of the quarrel between
Rome and Venice is indicated in a letter from Cardinal
i)\i Perron to Henry IV., bearing date the 14th
December of this same year. The aim of Henry IV.
and his counsellors was so to avoid the slightest
suspicion of partiality in the matter, as to be in a posi-
tion to effect a reconciliation when the fitting moment
should arrive, and thus make France the arbiter in
what I)u Perron calls " the most important affair that
lias arisen in Italy this many a day." France might
have proposed to herself a worthier object on this
occasion ; and there were men around Henry IV.
very capable of seeing and understanding this. There
seems reason to think, moreover, that the niodcratc
party in France had, since the reconciliation of the
king with the Cliurch, become sufficiently powerful to
venture on taking a line which would have been very
192 BilUTUM FULMEN.
far more useful to the future interests of France than
any advantage which could arise from the poor diplo-
matists' triumph of heing for a passing moment
" masters of the situation." But diplomatic Cardinals
can only he expected to see and to act after the nature
of their kind.
On the 12th of December the Pope had informed the
Cardinals in Consistor}', that lie had dispatched two
days previously the hortatory briefs against Venice. He
did not however take their votes on the matter, or even
allow them to express any opinion on the subject ; — a
circumstance wliich caused no little murmuring among
their Eminences, to whom, according to ancient rule,
the dispatch of the briefs ought to have been com-
municated beforehand.
On the 17th, accordingly, the Ambassador Nani writes
to the Senate, that the measure taken by the Pope —
the sending of the briefs — is deemed by all the
Cardinals rash and over-hasty.
By this time, therefore, the Senate was aware that
the briefs had been dispatched. They had indeed, as
it should seem, been in Venice two or three days before
this. But Mattel the Nuncio had not as yet presented
them. Possibly the opinion of the Cardinals mentioned
above may have reached Mattel also, and induced him
to suspend the presentation of them till further orders
from Home. Possibly also he w^as influenced to this
caution, unusual for him, by the steps which the Vene-
tians were now taking. As soon as it became known
in Venice that the briefs had been issued, it appeared
to the Senate that the impending rupture had reached
a point, at which it became necessary to lay
before the different governments of Europe a state-
ment of the misunderstanding between themselves
PUBLIC onxiox. 193
and the Pontiff. One of the most suggestive circum-
stances throughout the whole story of the quarrel, is
the anxiety of the Senate to carry with them the
public opinion of Europe, and the necessity Rome on
her side felt to plead at the same bar. In the first
instance, on the rupture becoming imminent, the
Senate addressed justificatory statements to the various
courts. But as the struggle proceeded, they took
means, as we shall see, to enlist on their side the
opinions of the learned throughout Europe ; and Rome
was fain to follow them on tliis ground also ; — a far
more significative indication of a bad time coming for
her and hers, than she seems at that period to have
been aware of.
On the 20th the Senate wrote to their ambassador at
the court of the Emperor a justification of their con-
duct, which will be found at length in the notes at the
end of this volume.* Letters of similar tenor were
written to the ambassadors of the Republic at the
courts of Spain, Florence, Milan, and France. The
resident ambassador in Paris was specially directed to
communicate the statement to his most Christian
Majesty at tlie first audience after the receipt of it.
Perhaps these active measures may have induced
Mattel to hesitate about the important and irrevocable
stop of presenting the hortatory briefs. At all events
he wrote on the 17th to the Pope that he had not yet
prcs(;ntc'd them, and asking further instructions. Oji
receiving this communication from the Nuncio, I'aul
instantly wrote back an indignant letter, sharply repri-
manding Mattel for having dared to disobey his former
orders by withholding the briefs, and strictly com-
• Note 4, at end of Volume..
194. BRUTUM FULMEN.
manding liim to present them on the Instant the pre-
sent letter should reach him. The Pope was veiy
anxious that the Senate should get no tidings of this
despatch, fearing, perhaps, that if the Senators knew
on what errand the Nuncio was seeking them, they
might refuse to accept the briefs. He therefore,
in order to prevent the possibility of its becoming
known to Nani that he was despatching a courier,
adopted the curious expedient of " sending his mes-
senger out of Eome without boots or spurs in a carriage
as far as the first post on his road," with orders there
to mount and ride with all speed.*
The letter thus strangely and secretly sent reached
Venice at a strangely critical moment, and caused one
other remarkable and striking scene in the well-known
halls and galleries of that most beautiful of Eurojiean
palaces which has witnessed so many an eventful and
memorable one.
It was the morning of Christmas-day. But the day
opened in Venice without any of the usual signs of
gala festival and rejoicing. The venerable Doge
Marino Grimani — " the placid Grimani," as one of
the historians calls him from his moderation and even
temper — was dying. At a very early hour of the
morning, a considerable number of the Senators and
several of the resident ministers of the courts of
Europe were gathered in the magnificent corridor and
reception rooms of the ducal palace. Conversation,
in a mournful anxious undertone, was going on among
the various groups, muffled in their ample mantles to
the eyes against the sharp cold of the December night a
good hour or more before the dawn. The talk was
* Sarpi, Storia Paitic, p. 10.
DEATH OF THE DOGE. 195
low and sad, for the old Doge was l3'ing on his state
bed in a neighbouring apartment evidently nearing
his last hour; and the placid Grimani was well loved
by the Venetians. It was anxious ; for the death of
the Doge at that critical moment in the affairs of the
Eei^ublic on the eve of a struggle with Eome, — a
struggle in which so much depended, not on the ability
of generals and the valour of armies, but on individual
opinion, character, and firmness, — the death of the
Doge at such a moment was pregnant with results of
infinite importance. How much would depend on the
character and opinions of the new Doge ! AVho Avould
be the man chosen to pilot Venice through the coming
storm ? How would the feelings of the electors, — the
haughty resistance to sacerdotal tyranny of some, the
far-sighted enlightened pati'iotism of others, the priest-
ridden weak consciences, or wife-ridden weak compli-
ance of a third party among the grave j)atricians —
manifest themselves in the all-important election of
good old Grimani's successor ?
And every now and then another closely mufilcd
figure came slowly up the Giant's Stairs to join his
compeers, while the torches of his attendants, flaming
and smoking, flung lurid gleams into all the arches and
corners of tlic court-yard, and lighted up capriciously
now the slowly pacing figure of a living Senator, and
now the stone effigies of one of a former generation.
'1 be bell of the chapel the while was lazily flinging
into the night air over the lagoon its call to )nass.
For tlio majority of tlie persons assembled in the
palace were there as a deputation of the Senate sent to
accompany Ww dying Doge in a solemn service. The
last hour and the last state ceremony of a Doge of
Venice had to be accomplished pretty nearly together.
196 BIIUTUM rULMEN.
No first magistrates of an}' community probably were
ever expected to live so entirely for the state and so
little for themselves, from the day of their election to
that of their death, as the Doges of Venice. And now the
placid Grimani had to finish his duty to his country by
dying, as he had lived during his Doge-ship, in public.
While the bell was still ringing and the assembled
Senators were waiting for the moment to go in to the
discharge of the melancholy duty on which they had
come, yet another figure was seen mounting the Giant's
Stair, not with the slow and measured step and subdued
demeanour which characterised the rest of the assembly,
but quickly and with the air of one engaged on pressing
and important business. It was the Nuncio ; all eyes,
it may easily be imagined, were turned on him ; and
no little surprise felt, and perhaps manifested at his ap-
pearance in that place at such a moment ; though it
is probable enough that a shrewd guess at the busi-
ness which brought him there flashed across the minds
of several of those who were present.
Approaching the Vice-Doge, Mattei told him that he
had one or two words to say to him publicly, which
were of pressing importance. He apologised for the
untimely moment he had chosen, and for troubling
their lordships with unpleasant business on such a
morning as this, by alleging that the urgency of his
instructions left him no choice.
All those Senators present, who were members of the
College, hereupon immediately retired to the hall in
which the College held its meetings ; where, as soon
as they had taken their seats, the Nuncio produced his
sealed papers, saying in the shortest possible phrase,
" Our Sovereign Lord the Pope has sent to j^our
Serene Highnesses these two briefs."
PRESENTATION OF THE BRIEFS. 197
After a few words of consultation among themselves
the College received the briefs, but told the Nuncio
that they would not be opened till after the election of
a new Doge, as before that neither the College nor
the Senate would meet. According to the provisions
of the Venetian constitution the College might have
opened the briefs, having authority sufficient for such
purposes from the Great Council. In the present cir-
cumstance, however, as the College knew right well
what the contents of the two briefs were, it was deemed
more prudent to reserve all consideration of them till
the state should again have a Doge at its head.
So the Nuncio retired, and forthwith wrote off to the
Pope informing him that the briefs had been duly pre-
sented ; but that the Republic declined taking cogni-
zance of their contents till the election of a new Doge ;
the old one lying in extremis at the time of the presen-
tation of them.
The Pope lost not an instant in writing back to the
Nuncio orders to raise a formal opposition to the elec-
tion of a new Doge, on the ground that any election
would be null and invalid because made by persons
under ecclesiastical censures and contumacious. Paul
flattered himself, as Sarpi remarks,* that he should
tlms be able to sow division among the Senators, and
tlirow the state into confusif)n. lie formed his notions,
erroneously enough, from liis experience of the state of
unarcliy and tumult ordinarily produced in Ptome by
the interregnum between the death of one Pope and
tlie election of another ; " knowing little," says Sari)i,
" of the government of the republic, whi(;h is in no
respect changed by any change of Doge, or by any
• Storia Partic, p. 10.
198 BRUTUM FULMEN.
interregnum, but remains in all respects and in every
place the same and unchanged."
Nuncio Mattei obediently presented himself before
the College Avith a view of telling them the Pope's
message. But he was not received, being told that it
was the custom of the Government to receive no
ministers of foreign princes during the vacancy of the
ducal throne, except such as came simply with mes-
sages of condolence. Thus thrown out Mattei spoke
on the subject with many persons of authority in
Venice, ministers of the various courts, and various
dignitaries of the Church ; who all agreed in strongly
advising him to take no further step in the matter, as
every court in Europe would be sure to protest against
a measure so violent, and so palpably hostile to all
civil government.
Meanwhile the Senators, remembering probably that
dictum of the fierce old warrior Pope Julius II., " that
the only way of sending censures to sovereign princes
was on the point of lances," did not neglect precau-
tionary measures. They sent to the governors of their
frontier towns, Eovigo and Legnago, orders to use all
vigilance to discover the first signs of any agglomera-
tion of Papal troops on the frontier ; and gave instruc-
tions that, " a cautious and secret envoy should be
sent to Ferrara to endeavour to ascertain if any pre-
pai-ations for the raising of troops were going on in the
States of the Church."
The placid Grimani expired on the 2Gth ; leaving
the Kepublic to elect his successor under pressure of
the consciousness that the first act of the new Doge —
the opening of the briefs — would show the Ptepublic to
be in open rupture with Rome.
CHAPTER VI.
Election of the new Doge, Leonardo Donato. — The opening of the briefs. —
The brief respecting the laws on the alienation of property to ecclesi-
astics. — The Senate consults authorities. — Applies to Frii Paolo. — His
■written answer. — He is appointed theologian to the Republic. — Copies
of the Pope's brief sent to foreign courts. — The Senate's reply to the
brief. — Interview between the ambassador and the Pojie on jiresenting
the reply.
On the 10th of Januaiy, lOOG, the forty-one electors,
in whom according to the constitution of Venice the
flection was vested, chose the nohle Cavaliere Leonardo
Donato to be the new Doge; " a senator," says Sarpi,
"esteemed beyond all question the most eminent of
the patrician body for the intcgrit}^ of his life, un-
blemished from his youth up, for experience in affiiirs
of state, for his accurate scholarship and large literary
acquirements, and for the practice of all those noble
virtues which are so rare in these our days." Leonardo
Donato was the friend of Sarpi ; but the universal
testimony of his contemporaries falls little short of
the warmtii of panegyric tlius pronounced by the
greatest man among them.
The election was at once felt to be a heavy blow to
Rome. Jf there was little to be hoped before from
the firmness of the haughty patrician repultlicans, it
was less likely than ever that any such compliance, as
Rome demanded, should be extorted from Ibciii, when
200 BRUTUM FULMEN.
such a man as Donate was at the head of the govern-
ment, lie was well known to be one of the most
advanced men in Venice, in the strength and extent of
his anti-papal opinions and policy. The mere fact of
his election, therefore, was a sign of the condition of
public feeling in Venice, of very evil augury for the
Apostolic Court.
All the resident ambassadors from foreign courts
hastened to congratulate the new Doge on his election,
except the Nuncio. Donato, however, notwithstanding
this marked discourtesy, sent the same intimation of his
election to the Pontiff, which was given to the other
courts ; and Paul thereupon, either on better thoughts,
or disapproving of the previous rudeness of his represen-
tative, returned a courteous reply to the communication.
At the first meeting of the College, after the election
of the new Doge, the two briefs were opened, and
found, to the great surprise of the College, to be two
copies of one and the same instrument. Two had
been prepared in the Apostolic Chancery according to
the Pope's orders, one respecting the laws against
alienation of real property to ecclesiastics, and the
other against the infringement of the spiritual juris-
diction by the imprisonment of the two churchmen.
But by some strange blunder either in the Roman
Chancery or on the part of the Nuncio, two copies of
the same were presented to the College.
This memorable document ran as follows. Not-
withstanding its length and verbosity, I have thought
it well to give it entire, not only because it is im-
portant as containing Piome's statement of her griev-
ances, as looked at from her point of view, but also
because it is curious as a specimen of a Eoman
seventeenth century state paper.
THE BRIEF. 201
" Beloved Sons and Noble Sirs, Health and Apo-
stolic Benediction !
" It has come to our knowledge that in j'ears past
you have in your counsels made many and yarious
decrees contrary to the authority of the Apostolic See,
and to the liberties and immunities of the Church,
and repugnant to the General Councils, to the Sacred
Canons, and to the Constitutions of the Supreme
Pontiffs. Among others, on the 10th of January,
1603, being assembled in Council, and considering
certain foi'mer decrees made, as you assert, by your
ancestors, by which it was prohibited to any layman
or ecclesiastic to found or build witliin the city of
Venice, churches, monasteries, hospitals, or other reli-
gious houses without the license of the Government,
you anew determined that this law should be extended
to all parts of your dominions ; and have enacted
against such, as should contravene this law, penalties
of outlawry and perpetual imprisonment, together witli
confiscation of the land and of any buildings erected
on it; — whereas you ought rather on the contrary to
liave cancelled and removed any such law from your
statute-books; — as if churches or ecclesiastical persons
were in any way subject to your temporal jurisdiction ;
or as if those, who should so build churches or other
pious and religious establishments, seemed to you
worthy of punisliment, as if tbcy bad been guilty of
some great crime.
" Besides this, we have heard tliat, in the month of
March la^t past, confirming a former decree, by wlii(-b,
as you assert, it was probibited to all persons, under
certain penalties set forth in it, to leave by will or
make over by donation, iiiter vivos, or alienate in any
other manner, any real property witliin the cily or tor-
202 BRUTUM FULMEN.
ritoiy of Venice, to religious establishments, you have
not only anew specifically forbidden such alienations
without express license from your Government, but
have expressly enacted that such real property shall
not pass into ecclesiastical hands, although it is ad-
mitted that the former decree which, similarly to the
above-mentioned one, you ought to have abolished,
was never acted on nor observed. Further, that you
have extended the same decree, and the jienalties
enacted by it, to the whole of your territory, and have,
moreover, ordered that all real property which should
be sold, or otherwise alienated, in contravention of this
decree, should, besides the nullity of all such acts, be
confiscated and sold, and the price thereof divided
between the state, the magistrate who shall put the
law in execution, and the denouncer of the fact, — as if
it were lawful for temporal rulers to exercise any sort
of authority over ecclesiastical property, more espe-
cially over such as is bequeathed, or in any other
manner conferred on churches, ecclesiastical persons,
or other pious establishments, by testators, and others
of the faithful in Christ, for the remedy of their sins,
as is most frequently the case, and for the ease of their
conscience ; or as if such goods could be disposed of
by the civil power without the legitimate consent of the
ecclesiastical authorities, and specially without the
knowledge of the supreme Pontiff; and that you have
offended in otlier ways, as is more amply shown in
your laws and decrees, by you made and published^
which have recently been brought to us,* and by
ourselves repeatedly read and diligently considered.
" Now, all these things, which not only tend to the
ruin of your own souls, and the scandal of very many
persons ; but also, furthermore, are to the prejudice
THE BRIEF. 203
of our authority and that of the Apostolic See, and
of the rights of the Church, and the privileges of
ecclesiastical persons (destroying, as they do, eccle-
siastical liberty and immunity itself), are ipso jure,
entirely null and invalid. And we, accordingly, now
anew, by these presents, decide and declare that they
are, ipso jure, entirely null and of no force, of no value or
moment, and that no person is bound to observe them.
All those, in fact, who, up to the present moment, have
had the audacit}' to publish and promulgate the afore-
said decrees, and others like them, and to enforce them,
have thereupon immediately incurred the ecclesiastical
censures established by the Sacred Canons, by the
decrees of General Councils, and by the Constitutions
of the Roman Pontiffs ; and have further become liable
to forfeiture of Avhatevcr estates or goods may have
been obtained from churches. And, furthermore, if
such persons, after due admonition, have not re-
placed the churclies and Cliurch property in their
former condition of liberty, they, and their abettors,
remain under a double weight of ecclesiastical censures
and penalties, and their dominions and lands are sub-
ject to other further penalties. And from these cen-
sures and penalties sucli persons cannot be freed and
absolved except by us, or b}' the Roman Pontiff for the
time being ; and they are incapable and incapacitated
from receiving any such absolution and liberation if
tliey liavc not previously recalled and nipcaledtlie laws
ptiblislif'd by these new edicts and decrees, 'and have
not eirectually replaced all matters depending on them
on their f<;rmer footing.
" We, tlierefore, ai)pointed by the Divine clemency
to the supreme throne of the Cliurch Militant, cannot,
in face of the gravity of these facts, and under a sense
204 BIIUTUM FULMEN.
of the duties entrusted to us, shut our eyes, and feign
not to see these things. Assuredly we are moved by
deep resentment jind grief of mind. Nor could we be
otherwise than greatly astonished that your most ex-
cellent Senate, which enjoys so high and universal a
reputation for equity and justice, should have enacted
these edicts and decrees, and should take up the
position of attempting to defend them.
** Therefore, moved by that especial benevolence and
paternal affection which we feel towards you, and
towards the whole of your Republic, we admonish you
in the Lord, and paternally require of you, if the safety
of your souls, as we are well persuaded, be dear to you,
that you lose no time in providing for the quiet of your
consciences, seeing that 3'ou stand in no ordinary risk,
but in the very greatest danger to your salvation. Fur-
thermore, if you do not comply, as you are bound to
do, with these our admonitions and requests, if you do
not listen to our remonstrances, then, by the authority
of the blessed apostles St. Peter and St. Paul, and by
our own, by virtue of the holy duty of obedience, under
pain of the eternity of the Divine judgment, and under
the further pain of immediately incurring the greater
excommunication, we formally command and order
you, and each of you, to recall the above-mentioned
edicts and decrees, heretofore put forth, published, or
promulgated by you or by your forefathers, and all the
provisions contained in them, and the facts wliich have
been occasioned by them, to cancel and abohsh them
from your archives or capitularies, or any places or
books in which they are recorded; to publisli throughout
your dominions that they have been so abolished and
cancelled ; and to give us due notice of such repeal and
revocation.
THE BRIEF. 205
" And if 3'ou still contemn these our communds, —
■which we do not anticipate, — you will compel us, to
our great grief, and much against our wish (as soon
as the venerable friar Orazio, Bishop of Gerace, who
resides as Nuncio in your city, in our name and that
of the Holy Apostolic See, whom we have charged to
present to you these letters, shall have advised us that
they have been so presented, on which point we shall
give him full and undoubting credence), to proceed con-
formably to the dispositions of the Sacred Canons, to the
publication of the Ecclesiastical Interdict against you
throughout the whole of your dominions, and also to
the enforcement of the other above-enumerated penal-
ties, as well as to all the other measures necessary.
And in such case, we shall proceed without any further
citation, being unwilling that in the great day of judg-
ment account should be demanded of us by God for
having failed in our duty, and abandoned the cause of
the Church.
" Imagine not that because we are most desirous of
peace and public tranquillity, and because with this
view we direct our thoughts to the government of the
Christian Republic in all possible tranquillity, intent
only on the service of God, and desirous that the
minds of all men, and especially of great Princes,
should agree in this with our own, we are therefore
disposed in any wise to shut our eyes, or fail in our
duty, if at any time the dignity of the Apostolic See
shall bo offended ; if ecclesiastical liberties and immu-
nities shall be infringed ; if the decrees of the Canons
sliall be disregarded ; if llie rights of the Church and
the privileges of ecclesiastical persons slmll be in-
vaded ; for all these things make up the sum of our
office.
206 BRUTUM FULMEN.
" We Avill, that in tliis matter you should be well
assured that we are not moved by any mundane con-
sideration, tliat we seek nothing but the glory of the
Lord God, and that we have no other end in view than
the due exercise, as far as is in our power, of that
apostolic rule to which God, of His singular goodness,
has recently called us, notwithstanding our insufficient
strength. For inasmuch as we have no thought of
doing anything that can in the smallest degree pre-
judice your temporal rights and government, so we
cannot tolerate or endure that so grave and flagrant an
injury and contempt should be inflicted on the Church
of God, on ecclesiastical persons and their rights
and liberties, and on our authority and that of the
Apostolic See.
*' But if, as we anxiously desire, you should not
neglect your bounden duty, but will immediately and
quietly do what is so requisite for the general advan-
tage, and particularly for your own safety, you will not
only liberate us from the heavy anxiety which has
afflicted us on your account, but will also make the
best possible provision for your own advantage, since
by this means only can you retain and preserve the
feudal property which you have received from the
Church ; and, indeed, can in no other way keep at a
distance public danger, arising from those enemies of
Christendom, from which you have so much ado to
defend yourselves.
" For if you will act as becomes religious and pious
men, you will preserve the rights and immunities of
the Church, and of those ecclesiastics who night and
day watch for you, and assiduously pray to God for you,
you will give us abundant cause to render praise to
God for your deliberations and counsels, and to heap
SARPI CONSULTED. 207
benefits on 5'ou and your Hepublic in all matters con-
sistent with the dignity and rights of the Church,
" Meanwhile we pray that God may du-ect your
thoughts in the way of your eternal salvation, and may
grant without delay a happy and much desired end to
the pious anxieties which continually fill our heart for
the tranquillity of the Republic of Christ."
" Given in St. Peter's, in Eome, under the ring of
the Fisherman, on the 10th of December, 1005,
the first year of our Pontificate."
The first act of the College, when the above brief
had been read, was to vote that this, and all the papers
bearing on this matter, should be laid before doctors
of the highest reputation in law and in theology. The
Ptepublic ordinarily retained in the service of the State
two consulting doctors in law and jurisprudence. But
now, in the difiiculties that were about to arise Avith
the Pope, on matters involving questions of Canon Law,
Apostolic Chamber Law, and so-called spiritual ques-
tions, it was deemed necessary to have also the assis-
tance of a consulting theologian. And Sai*pi was
applied to for his advice on the reception of the brief.
Yvk Paolo very clearly saw from the first that the
matter would become serious. He knew well that the
only crime never forgiven at Rome is complicity in
any attempt to circumscribe priestly authority and
supremacy. lie remembered his own defenceless
position as a simple friar, liable to be at any moment
called to Rome by authority wliich he was bound to
obey ; and representing those things to the Govern-
ment, he confined his reply to the application wliich
liad been made to liiiii to vague generalities, couched
in the usual formal language of profound reverence for
the Holy Sec.
208 I3KUTUM FULMEN.
Tliereupon the Senate came to a resolution that
Sarj)! shoukl be ioniially taken under the protection of
the Kepublic, and assured that it would defend him
against any persecution whatever. The friar now felt
himself able to speak out ; and thenceforth devoted
himself Avith unflinching courage, untiring industry,
and rare learning, to the defence of Venice in her
quarrel. It is to be remarked, however, that neither
the protection promised him by the Senate, nor the
commands of the State, could absolve him from the
imperative obligation of obedience due from a friar to
his superiors, and to the Roman Pontiff. And it is
not very intelligible by what course of reasoning Fra
Paolo could have reconciled it to his conscience to
emancipate himself from this fundamental article of
his convent vows, while he yet deemed himself bound
to adhere strictly to the less important regulations of
daily convent life. It must be admitted that his con-
duct in this respect would seem to warrant the opinion,
that the ascetic strictness of his conventual life was
adhered to by him for the sake of disarming hostile
and malevolent criticism, rather than from any con-
viction of the real value of such practices.
In answer to the question submitted by the Senate
to Frii Paolo, thus assured against the dangers that
might arise from replying to it, *' What remedies were
open to the State against the thunders of Rome ? " the
"terrible friar" gave in writing the following clear and
concise answer : —
" Two remedies might be found, — one material by
forbidding the publication of the censures, and pre-
venting the execution of them, thus resisting illegiti-
mate force by force clearly legitimate as long as it
does not overpass the bounds of the natural right of
SARPIS AXSWER. 209
defence ; — and the other moral, wliicli consists in an
appeal to a future council. The first of these is pre-
ferable; but the other might also be used at need,
since other princes have used it, and in France and
Germany it is still held that a council is the superior
authority ; so that, although in Italy the contrary
opinion prevails. Canonists have left the point undeci-
ded. Still, if it may be, it is better to avoid this
appeal, in order not to irritate the Pope more than
ever, and raise two questions instead of one, and also
because he who appeals admits that the goodness of
his cause is doubtful, whereas that of the Eepublic is
indubitable."
This answer Avas read in the Senate on the 28th of
January ; and its clearness, briefness, and sound good
sense so pleased the Senators, that it was at once
unanimously determined that Sarpi should be appointed
standing theological counsellor and canonist to the
Ilepublic, with an annual stipend of 200 ducats, equal
perhaps, at the present value of money, to about a£200.
Sarpi, before accepting tliis appointment, asked the
permission of the General of his Order, Fra Filippo
Ferrari, who was then in Venice, and was by him
authorised to accept it. There was no danger, indeed,
as Signor Biancld-Giovini remarks, tliat the General
should have had so little fear of the Ten before his
eyes as to have refused his permission. But it is pos-
sible that Sarpi may have construed tbis authorisation
as relieving him from tlic oldigation to do thereafter
anything incompatible with the duties of the ofiico lie
was formally permitted by his superior to accept.
Already, before this arrangement was concluded
witli Sarpi, tlie Senate had commenced tliat course of
appeal to the i)ublic opinion of Europe, which through-
210 BKUTUM FULMEN.
out the struggle they so much relied on. Copies of
the brief, Jind of all the documents relating to the
matter, were ordered to be sent to the different ambas-
sadors of the llepublic, with directions to communi-
cate them to the Sovereigns at whose courts they were
resident. They were also sent to several of the most
famous jurists and canonists of that day, especially to
the celebrated Menocchio at Milan, who had already
offered to employ his powerful pen on the side of
Venice.
On the 28th, the College dispatched its formal reply
to the brief. It is somewhat longer than that instru-
ment. But a very short summary of the contents of
the i^aper will suffice us.
The Doge, in whose name the reply is written, after
a passing reference to the inopportuneness of the
moment selected by the Pope for the presentation of
his hostile brief, and a slightly satirical allusion to the
absurd mistake of sending two copies of the same
document, instead of two different ones as intended^
goes on to protest respecting the pious intentions, and
reverence for the Holy See, &c., felt by the Republic ;
and then expresses his " astonishment " that the
Pontiff should tax their forefathers, the good and god-
fearing men, who passed the laws in question, with
violating the liberties of the Church, on wdiich they
had conferred on the contrar}' such great benefits. But
since his Holiness thinks the souls of the Senators in
danger, they have diligentl)' examined anew these laws
and caused them to be examined by learned doctors,
but can find in them no shadow of injury to the rights
of the Church, than which indeed nothing could have
been further from the wishes of Venice. The intention
of the Ptepublic was only to i)reserve itself from being
EEPLY OF THE DOGE. 211
weakened, and it thinks that it had everj^ right to
adopt the means it did to that end. A due, and indeed
a splendid provision for the Church has never been
neglected in Venice, but on the contrary, cared for on
a scale unknown to other nations. The Republic holds
that it is empowered to make the laws it has passed by
the rights of independent civil government, for the
exercise of which it is responsible to God alone ; and
it firmly believes that the said laws are not repugnant
to the canons, &c. The remark is again made that
ecclesiastics are at liberty to sell any property left to
them, though not to hold it in the shape of real pro-
perty ; and the letter then goes on to argue the
necessity of the laws for the conservation of the powers
of the State. For all these reasons the Senators cannot
believe that they have incurred ecclesiastical censures;
they feel perfectly at ease in their consciences, and
cannot think that his Holiness will persist in the
measures he threatens, evidently misinformed as he is
of the true nature of the case. This will be further
and more particularly explained by the ambassador of
the Republic. The Dogo concludes by reminding the
Pope of all that Venice has in so many ways done to
deserve well of the Church, and entreats the Pontiff to
feci as a father towards sons, who feel as such towards
liiiii.
The letter, in short, is an extremely proper and
(Icccjrous letter, containing all that was most decent to
be said under the circumstances. The meaning of it
was, " We stand on our rights, and bave not the least
intention of yielding to demands and threats that we
deem as unjust as they are audacious." Ijiit then to
have said this would not have been decent or proper
at all.
212 BllUTUM FULMEN.
On the 3rd of February, lGOG,Naiii wrote to the
Senate an account of the audience in which he had
l)resented to the Pope the answer to his brief. On his
mentioning to his HoUness the circumstance of the
two copies of one and the same brief, Paul became
angrv. "How is this?" cried he. "This is some
error of the Nuncio, He has been guiltj'- of others
also, though doubtless meaning well, as when he did
not at once present the briefs in the first instance."
He added that the second brief should immediately be
sent, and offered to give the ambassador a copy of it
forthwith if he wished it. To which, " I answered
smiling, that I should prefer to have an opportunity of
restoring to his Holiness the two copies of the other."
The Pope then read the reply of the Senate, " with
his eyebrows drawn up into an arch ;" * and at the
conclusion, " asked me if I had aught more to add."
Thereupon the ambassador went once more over all
the old ground, adding that " Religion in Venice had
begotten the vast riches of the clergy, and that now
the child tvas suffocating the mother.''
Before Nani had finished speaking, Paul broke out
with great violence, declaring all the contents of the
paper he had read vain and frivolous. He alluded to
the violent measures which Julius II. had taken. . . .
" But," interrupted Nani, " that Pontiff repented him
of what he had done, and the world is no longer what
it was in his da3\"
These were hard words for Paul Borghese to hear ;
and the reader expects to find him blazing out into
greater fury than ever. But there was something in
the warning that seems to have struck even the bigoted
* Con le clfflia inarcale. Cornet, Op. cit, p, 27.
PAUL AND THE xiMBASSADOR. 213
and obstinate intellect of Paul V. " What then would
3'ou propose to me to do ?" said he after a pause. In
the matter of the two imprisoned ecclesiastics, Nani
proposed, " that your Holiness should leave them in
the hands of the Eepuhlic. The privileges we hohl
from the Holy See are clear on tlie matter, and only
require to he a little enhirged "
" No ! " cried Paul, again furious at such a proposi-
tion. " That shall never be. These are no times for
enlarging privileges." He then went on to say that it
was impossible for him to recede even if he had wished
it, as he had communicated the steps he had taken to
the Cardinals in Consistory, and to foreign powers.
Clement YHL, rejoined Nani, had declared in full
Consistory, that if an angel had come down from
Heaven to desire it, he would rather suffer himself to
be flayed alive than accord his blessing a second time
to the relapsed heretic Henry IV. Yet Clement had
found that sapicntis est mutare iiropos'itum.
Paul replied, tliat as for the two ecclesiastics, he
would content himself with an arrangement bv which
the Canon Saraceni should be given up to the Nuncio,
while the Abbot Brandolino was left to be judged by
the Kepublic, but as a special favour, and on condition
that tlie ecclesiastical judge should be present at, and
take part in the trial. As for the obnoxious laws, they
were invalid. It, was absolutely necessary that the
Kepublic should iind some means of retracting them,
or at least of taking from them all their force. He
sliould otherwise be compelled to proceed to extremi-
ties. He must do his duty. 'J'his was the cause of
God, and tlie gates of hell would not jn'cvail against it.
And so terminated an interview, in wliich for the
first time I'aul had manifested the slightest tendency
214 BllUTUM FULMEN.
to abate a little of his pretensions. Possibly he had
been a little alarmed at the unanimity with which the
Senate (thus destroying all the hopes of division among
them, which his confessor spies had fooled him witli)
had elected for Doge Leonardo Donato, the strongest
anti-papalist in Venice. Possibl}', too, he may have
remembered Avith some misgiving a certain conversa-
tion which he, when Cardinal, had once held with
Donato, when the latter was ambassador from the
Republic to Clement VIII. It was relative to the
dispute about the Uscocks. " If I were Pope," said
Cardinal Borghese, "I would excommunicate both
Doge and Senate." "And if I were Doge," returned
the Venetian, " I would laugh at your excommuni-
cation."
How little either speaker then thought that both of
them would have occasion to put their hypothetical
menaces into execution.
CHAPTER VII.
The Nuncio before the College on the 10th of Fehruary. — The Doge and the
blessed Caudle. — Feeling at the foreign Courts.— France. — Spain. -^
Presentation of the second brief. — Reply of the Senate. — Duodo, the
ambassador extraordinary, and the Pope, on the 25th of March. — The
French ambassador before the College. — Opinions of the Cardinals. —
The Venetians seek to make delays. — The English ambassador,
"Wotton, and Secretary Scaramelli. — Intercepted letter of the General
of the Jesuits. — Intercession of the Cardinals of Verona and Vicenza.
— The Interdict drawn up and printed. — Paul wavers at the last
moment. — Scene in the Consistory. — The Interdict is published.
Paul Y. was not yet convinced that the liepublic
would not end by yielding to him, at least on one or
two of the various points in dispute between them.
On the 10th of February tlie Nuncio once more pre-
sented himself before the College, and " an exceedingly
tempestuous " interview was the result. To ^Mattei's
opening speech, in which he enlarged as usual on
tlic benevolent feeling of the Pope towards the llcpub-
lic, and implored the College to find " some means
of affording satisfaction to liis Holiness," Donato
answered, tlnit he miglit have contented liimsclf with
formally declaring that the Senate would take all lie
had said into consideration, and would by means of
their ambassador communicate the result to his Holi-
ness; but that sitting there, as he did, as cliicf-
magistrate and liead of the Ilcpublic, lie would say a
few words of his own opinions on the matter. He did
21G BRUTUM FULMElN.
not, for his part, see how it was possible to give the
Pope tlie satisfaction lie asked without subverting the
principles of their government. " You tell lue," he
added, " that I ought to do something to pleasure the
Holy Father on the occasion of my advent to this
supreme authority. But I will frankly tell you, that
there is nothing by which I can more signalise the com-
mencement of my reign, than by preserving the glory
and high repute which this Eepublic has achieved, and
upholding that liberty Avhich has been left us by our
great and glorious ancestors." Going on to speak at
length of the unreasonableness of the papal demands,
he said: "In the seventy 5'ears which have elapsed
since the establishment of this Council, we have always
observed, that in every grave mischief or misdeed of
special enormit}^ that has been committed in our cities,
there has been some renegade priest or worthless fi'iar at
the bottom of it." He concluded by desiring the Nun-
cio to inform his Holiness, that an ambassador extra-
ordinary * had been appointed, who, he trusted, would
be able to convince the Pope of the goodness of the
Piepublic's cause. The Nuncio replied; the Doge rebut-
ted his assertions. Accusations of evasion, of want
of candour, were made on either side. "Your Serene
Highness will excuse me, but the shuffling is on your
side," said the Nuncio with vehemence; then added,
gnashing his teeth, and gesticulating with his hands
and fingers, "it is impossible to utter greater iniquities,
and you will have to answer for them at the great day
of judgment. You tell me/' he added, "that these
* Donato himself, it will be rememberefl, had been named as ambas-
sador extraordinary. But whsu he VI as elected Doge, it became necessary
to choose a new one in his place. And this was done in the person of the
Cavaliero Piero Duodo.
THE HOLY CA^'DLE. ^U7
I poor clerks may sell property left to them ; and -what
are they to do with the price of it, I sliould like to
know ? " — " They might avail themselves of such
money to give alms to the poor, as ecclesiastical corpor-
ations are hound to do." — " This is not decent, nor
supportahle," exclaimed the Nuncio, "and is too intol-
erahle an attack on the liberty of the Church."
In the midst of this stormy debate an incident
cccured, so strange to our manners and ideas, so
quaintly theatrical, so unlike anything that we could
imagine as happening at a reception of a Nuncio, in
public council, by such a man as Doge Leonardo
Donato, that it must not be omitted. When insisting
on his aflfection and respect for the Holy See, the
Doge, to prove it to the Nuncio, suddenly called for
the candle blessed by the Pope ; which Paul, thinking
better of his first idea of not recognising the new
Doge, had sent him on his accession. Taking it (the
candle) in liis hands, he reverently kissed it, lifting his
ducal cap at the same time, and with protestations of
gratitude to the Holy Father for the gift, declared, tliat
he should keep it in memory of so great a fsivour, and
light it only on the last day of his life. And this
farce was performed b}' one of the greatest, best, and
most enlightened men of his time and country.
The words with which he brought the interview to a
close were however more dignified, and had more of
mo;aning in them. The sitting had lasted mucli longer
^ than usual, and it was time to rise. As he did so, the
I Doge said, " I will not omit to say, Ptight Pa-vercnd
my Lord, that as I am ready, even at my advanced
age, to take once more the sword in hand in defence of
the Clmrch, as my ancestors have so often done, so on
the other hand, I am ready to do the same for tlie
218 BRUTUM FULMEN.
maintenance of our liberties and the honour of the
Republic."
Then came letters to the " College," from their
different ambassadors at the different courts of Europe.
Tlie threatened rupture between the Holy See and
Venice was felt everywhere to be a matter of the high-
est European importance. From France the accounts
were quite favourable ; the King admits that the
Republic is in the right, and will do his utmost, by
means of his ambassador at Rome, to bring about a
reconciliation. From Spain the tidings were not so
cordially friendly; just as might be expected. The
communication of the Venetian ambassador had been
received with all courtesy and show of friendly interest,
and an answer returned in that spirit. But the
shrewd Venetian* wrote, that the Spanish court was
not displeased at the disagreement between Venice and
the Pope, because they deem.ed it likely to be a means
of sowing discord between the latter and France.
Nevertheless the Count of Fuentes, the Spanish
Governor at Milan, had written to his court, that, " it
was not well to permit the Pontiff to exercise so great
an authority over lay property ; that the day might
come when such pretensions might become prejudicial
to his Most Catholic Majesty also."
It soon became apparent, that the signs of giving
way, which Nani had flattered himself he had seen in.
Paul at his last audience, Avere as deceptive as the
increased mildness, which had preceded the sending
of the briefs in the first instance. For on the 25th of
February, the Nuncio came into the College and pre-
sented the second brief, respecting the imprisoned
* It vas Francesco Priuli, then resident at Madrid.
EEPLY TO THE SECOND BRIEF. 219
ecclesiastics, for which a second copj' of the other brief
had, in the first instance, by mistake, been substituted.
It is not necessary to occupy our space and time
Avith any examination of this document. It contains
the same professions of grief and astonishment, the
same declarations of the injury done to the rights of
the Church, the same fears for the souls of the Senators,
and the same threats, as the former instrument.
On the 11th of March the Senate sent its formal
answer to this second brief, much like, but a good deal
shorter than the reply to the first one. The Repub-
licans protest their perfect devotion to the Holy See ;
speak of their right to exercise jurisdiction over clerical
persons, as given them by God, and allude to the briefs
on the subject of former Popes as approving of this
right, not as granting it; thus advancuig a step in the
assertion of a principle.
On the 18tli the ambassador presented this answer
to tlie Pope, and at the same time notified to him the
arrival of the envoy extraordinary Duodo. " AVc will
receive him," said Paul ; " but we want no more nego-
tiations. We must have some satisfaction, or we shall
be constrained to act as becomes one who occupies this
seat." It is observable tliat both Paul himself and his
Nuncio repeatedly urge the Venetians to give the Pope
Home satisfaction ; as if intimating that the concession
of a portion of the papal demands might be accepted
us ft basis of reconciliation.
On tlic 25th of March, Nani and Duodo write from
Jlomo tliat the general opinion is that some under-
standing will be come to in tlic matters under disi)ute.
On the ;i!tth Duodo had a long interview with tlie
Pope ; but the I'ontiff began by saying that lie sup-
posed the new [ambassador liad nothing new to say ;
220 BKUTUM FULMRX.
and Duodo liimself declares tluat he went over the
same ground that Nani had taken. The result of the
audience on the mind of Duodo this time was, that
there was no hope of avoiding extremities if the
llepublic remained firm in refusing Paul's demands.
" Not only," says he, " will his Holiness not be
quieted, but he will become more and more angered,
and determined on proceeding to those steps which he
has in his mind." The ambassadors write, moreover,
at the same time that they are told that the Interdict
has been already drawn up and printed.
On the oOtli of March the French ambassador came
to the College Avith messages from his sovereign. It
was a matter of grief to his Most Christian Majesty
that there should be misunderstanding between Venice
and Piome ; and he would Avillingly lend his aid to
bring about reconciliation. His Holiness, also, had
given his Majest}'- an account of the whole matter ; and
it did seem that the Republic had meddled unduly with
matters ecclesiastical. Surely it would be best to give
his Holiness some satisfaction, and so make up the
quarrel. Bi^t if the Republic would communicate the
grounds on which they rest their case to his Most
Christian Majesty, he would do his utmost to use his
influence to serve their cause.
The Doge answered that the Republic was very
grateful for the king's ofl'ers; but the fact was, the
Pope wanted to insist on the repeal of the ancient laws
of Venice, " just as if we were subjects instead of
being an independent State, free from its foundation
upwards by the grace of God ;" that the Senate did not
see any means by which they could satisfy the Pope ;
that " we are constrained to repel the injuries done us
by the natural law, which prompts one when beaten to
OPINIONS OF THE CA15DINALS. 221
feel resentment." To all this the ambassador replies,
that in truth it would seem that the innovations come
from Piome, rather than from Venice ; and that in any
case he was directed b}' his master to assure the Senate
that they might rely on his good offices at need.
On the 1st of April the ambassadors Avrite at length
the opinions of the diflerent Cardinals in the matter in
dispute, as far as they have been able to collect them.
One thinks that if the law objected to was so worded
as to forbid laymen generally to leave their goods by
will without permission from the government, not
mentioning ecclesiastics at all, Venice would gain her
point, and all difficulty be got over. Old Cardinal
Tosco, with whom the reader has made acquaint-
ance, — he that would liave been such an excellent
n^.an to make Pope, if he had onl}' not been so utterly
unfit to be a priest, and who came near being made
Pope notwitlistanding — worldly old Cardinal Tosco,
thought that " some means might be found of con-
tenting both parties." Learned Cardinal Baronius
observed, " that it was true, that the Republic had
conferred great benefits on the Holy See, but had re-
ceived as much as it had given ; that it was to be
remembered that the emperor Emmanuel Comagenus
had made certain decrees respecting Church property,
whicli he was driven to rescind by the affliction whicli
befel liim ; wliich affliction he, the learned Jesuit Car-
dinal, doubted not had come upon him as a judgment
for liaving made sucli decrees."
" To all of wliom wo gave," say the ambassadors,
" such answer as was riglit ;" a compcndiousntss of
statement, for which, doubtless, the Senate was as
grateful as is the historian.
On the Htli of April the Senate wrote once more to
222 BRUTUM FULMEN.
their ambassadors, directing them to complain to the
Pope that lie proceeds to hostilities Avithout hearing
their justification. This was hardly a just complaint.
The same things had been rejieated on either side a
dozen times, both between the Pope and the ambas-
sadors at Pome, and between the Senate and the
Nuncio at Venice. But the object of the Venetian
government was evidently to make delays and gain
time, 'i'hey had all the future before them. The
Pope had only the remaining years of his life. Both
parties were mindful of this difference in their respec-
tive positions. I'aul was so little forgetful of it, that
he more than once tells the ambassadors not to make
delaj's, saying to themselves the while, " the Pope can't
last for ever ! " The only new matter in this last
letter to the ambassadors is a hint to the Pope that
numbers of the first writers of the day have offered the
service of their pens to the Pepublic ; that the Senate,
as yet, " has had more trouble in restraining than in
obtaining the aid of such writers, being willing to avoid
giving occasion for debate ;" that, if the Pope should
proceed with his hostile measures, the Senate will be
obliged to have resource to this means of defence ; and
that it is for the Holy See to consider what conse-
quences may arise from such a body of writing; a hint,
that last, assuredly well worthy of the Apostolic See's
most serious consideration.
On this same 8th of April, as we learn from a
report* made by the secretary Scaramelli to the
Senate, the English ambassador, Wotton, " being dis-
contented because the government did not communi-
cate to him the difficulties withPtome," requested him,
* Printed in the Appendix, No. 6, to Cornet, Op. cit.
WOTTON AND SCARAMELLI. 223
Scaramclli, to meet liim privately in a certain street
near liis residence. The secretary declined, alleging
that it was forbidden to the secretaries to hold any
converse with the foreign ministers, except ofificially.
On AVotton's jiersevering in his request, however,
Scaramelli obtained leave from the chiefs of the Ten
to meet him as he desired ; and the interview^ took
place in the church of St. Girolamo, near to the house
of the ambassador, " where he is in the habit of going
privately pretty well every time that the nuns of that
convent sing." After making shortly a few complaints
on the delays which had occurred in settling some
pending business between England and the Republic —
delays which, he said, had been the cause of his not
having presented himself to the College for the last
two months — "NVotton confided to the secretary that the
English government, for I'easons of state, kept vigilant
spies among those who most closely surrounded the
Pope. He told liim further, that he had it from one
of these secret agents, that the Pope, being exceed-
ingly ignorant of political affairs, had entirely given
liimself up to the Jesuits, who, excessively artful as
tliey were in the affairs of sovereigns, rendered them-
selves formidable by their action as spiritual consolers
and directors of consciences. He added, that Bellar-
mine liad written a work, " Do IMilitia Ecclesiastica,"
the scope of whicdi was to justify any and every war,
liaving for its object the supremacy of the Church.
'I'he ambassador then showed him a letter in ciphei*,
wlii< li bad been written by the General of the -Icsuits
in Rome to the Jesuit Possevin at Venice, and wliich
bad been intercepted. He communicated to tlio secre-
tary the wliole tenor of tliis letter; and loft it witli
him, under promise that it should be returned, to show
221 BKUTUM rULMEN.
to the Doge. Speaking of Mattel the Nuncio, Wotton
said, " That Nuncio- seems to me more fit to he placed
in a seminary than to be entrusted with tlie manage-
ment of such affairs as are now pending/' He then
brought the interview to a conclusion, by enjoining on
the secretary the most profound secresy with regard to
King James's spies in the papal court; since if the
Jesuit Parsons then in Borne were to get scent of
the fact, " w'e should be all, as a man may say, in
the fire."
A second interview followed between Wotton and
Scaramelli on the 14th, in which the former told the
secretary that the general opinion among the foreign
ministers resident in Venice was, that the quarrel
w^ould be made up, judging from the backwardness of
the Venetian government to communicate with them
on the subject. But we have seen that the Senate
had preferred making its communications to foreign
governments through their own ambassadors at the
different courts. Finall}'-, Wotton told him that if
the Senate would confide their differences with Home
to him, the English " would meet them with open
arms."
The letter in cipher from the General of the Jesuits
to Possevin is given at length. It speaks of expected
triumphs of the Jesuits over their adversaries the
Dominicans ; and then continues :
"We hear from England that one of our fathers
has been examined in the matter of the conspiracy,
(5th of November), and otlier matters appertaining to
the Faith; — (Did the gunpowder plot then in the
opinion of the Jesuit General ' appertain to the
Faith?') — and that he defended himself very well,
and was acquitted. Here proceedings are being taken
JESUIT LETTER. 225
with the utmost secresy against one Master Paul of
Venice, of the Order of Servites, for a writing put
forth by him, in which he not only defends the Vene-
tians from the excommunication (from their liability
to it, he means, since the excommunication was not
yet launched), and supports them in their refusal of
the demands recently made on them by his Holiness,
in respect of the differences that have latel}'- arisen, as
your reverence very well knows, but also in many
points tends to lessen the pontifical authority ; . . . .
for which service it is said that he has received a
pension of two liuudred ducats a-year for life. This
writing was secretly sent to the Venetian ambassador
here last week, with orders to present it with his own
hands to the Pope, if his Holiness will not desist
from his demands, and then to leave Eome at once,
without further negotiation. From all this a schism,
which God forbid, might easily arise."
This letter is dated the 1st of April, 1G06.
On the 12th, the ambassador of Henry IV. was
invited to come to the College, and a long statement
was read to him, giving an account of the position of
the quarrel between the Senate and the Papal See, in
which nothing was added with which the reader is
not already famihar. On the same da}'', copies of the
same document were sent to the Venetian residents
fit the Imperial Court and at those of Spain and
Ilorence.
On the 14th came letters from the ambassadors at
Rome, reporting that there were no signs of any pro-
babihty of tlie Pope's yielding ; and that he talked of
at once having recourse to his spiritual arms.
On the next day the ambassadors wrote again to
inform the Senate of the efforts that liad bctn made
22G BIIUTUM FULMEN.
by the Venetian Cardinals of Verona,* and Vicenza,f
to bring the Pope to more moderate counsels. They
reminded him that the spiritual arms, to which he was
bent on recurring, might possibly be despised by those
against whom they were used, and that the conse-
quences of such a result would be greater and of a
worse nature than the evils complained of. "We have
arms to defend ourselves," replied Paul, who seems
not to have comprehended the natm-e of the conse-
quences to which the two Cardinals alluded. " Nay,
Holy Father," returned the Cardinals; "Venice has
before now sent armies for the defence of the Holy
See, and would do so again at need ; but let us bethink
ourselves of the disorders and mischiefs which might
arise from disregard of the spiritual arms."
"Such talk smells foully of heresy!" cried Paul,
while his face grew dark and threatening.
The counsels, which to any man of ordinary discre-
tion in his position should have had most weight in
inducing him to refrain from the irrevocable step he
was bent on, seem to have had the effect of hurrying
Paul's irritable pride and obstinacy to the catastrophe.
He proceeded to draw up the instrument of Excommu-
nication and Interdict with his own hand, and had it
printed fortliwith. As this had been done by the
morning of the 17th, he must have gone to work on
the preparation of it very shortly after his conversation,
with the two Venetian Cardinals.
He convoked the cardinals to Consistory on the
morning of the 17th, for the purpose, nominally, of
consulting them, but in reality of announcing to them
his intention. Nevertheless, at the very last hour he
• Agostiuo Valiero. + Giovanni Delfino.
PAUL WAVEES. 227
hesitated and wavered. Letters had come to him from
faithful friends of the Holy See at Venice, warning him
that he would not succeed in obtaining from the Re-
public what he asked ; imploring him to think well of
the inestimable danger to be feared from the spectacle
exhibited to all the world, of Rome's most awful thun-
ders disregarded and ineffectual, and pointing out to
him the very ominous fact of the perfect and unprece-
dented unanimity of the Senate in every vote bearing
upon the present business. The French Ambassador
also strong]}'- urged him to moderation.
Well might he waver. He was playing in any case
a most hazardous game, and for a most tremen-
dous stake. Even putting aside all the political con-
siderations which were involved, the responsibility of
subjecting an entire communit}'' of Christians to the
penalties of the Interdict must to a believing Pope be
so unspeakably awful, that mankind is perhaps justified
in concluding tliat a liuman being capable of taking
such a step under any circumstances does oiot believe
in the reality of the horrible evils he professes to be
inflicting. But even so, even if his avowed belief that
he is consigning unnumbered human souls, innocent of
the offence he is anxious to punish, to eternal misery,
be a hypocrisy and a sham, still the imliappy "faitli-
ful " believe in the dread efficacy of the malignant Obi
man. Their misery, despair, and terror are real ; and
all tiie practical social mischief tliat ensues is real anfl
absolute. Hardened against all human sympatliy, as a
]*()pc must be by education, by position, by d(Ktrino,
by the possession of absolute power, by all that lie
has, and yet more by all that he has not, yet well
might even a I'aul Y. waver in launching an
Interdict !
42
228 BUUTUM FULMEN.
Even on the head of the Vatican stair, as he was
going clown to tlie Consistory, he halted and would
have turned back. But there was a certain Cardinal
Ai-rigoni in attendance on him, ready to whisper that
encouragement to do the evil his passions prompted
him to, which is one of the subtlest forms of flattery
to the gi-eat, and one of the readiest to a courtier's
tongue- Paul recovered his " firmness " and entered
the Consistory.
The whole story of the wrongs inflicted on the
Church by the Venetian government was tlien re-
hearsed according to his version of it. The reader
knows it all already, and it is needless to go over the
ground again. He concluded by the empty formality
of asking their Eminences for their votes. The
Venetian Cardinal of Verona did venture to counsel
mildness, moderation, and reflection. Paul answered
sharply that he had delayed and reflected enough, and
knew well what he was about. No other Cardinal
ventured a remonstrance, although we know that
several of them had expressed their strong objections
to the course the Pope was pursuing. Cardinal Ascoli
expressed his adherence by a profound bow. Cardinal
Zappata added that priests under the Venetian govern-
ment were in worse condition than the Jews under
Pharaoh. Giustiniani declared that Venice had no
excuse, and that to bear with her longer would be sin.
Santa Cecilia cried that the cause of the Pontiff was
the cause of God. Bandino promised the Pope im-
mortal honour for the stej) lie was taking. Colonna
opined that the Venetians would be more amenable to
the rod than to mildness.* But the learned Jesuit
* Blancbi Giovbi, Op. cit. v. i. jj. 245.
CAKDIXAL BAEOXIUS. 229
Cardinal Baronius, who, in the earlier stages of the
business had professed to take the part of the Vene-
tians, was the most violent of them all. He made a
long speech, in which he blamed the Holy Father for
his too long-suffering patience ; urged him to act with-
out loss of time ; and declared that it seemed to him
a renewal of the good old times of Gregory VII. and
Alexander III., both, as he reminded Paul, natives of
Siena like himself, who brought to their knees those
impious wretches the Emperors Henrj' and Frederick.
He concluded by prophes3'ing an equally glorious
triumph to Paul V. ; — a reading of the then future,
which, if he really were sincere in what he was
saying, must give us in a singular manner the measure
of the great Jesuit church historian's sagacity and
appreciation of liis epoch.
So the fateful document, thus passed as it ma}' be
said by acclamation, was published, by which (unless
within twenty-four days, with three more days added as
a last chance extended by paternal mercy, full satisfac-
tion had been made) the Doge, the Senate, and the
Kepublic of Venice were, by the authority of God, of
St. Peter, and St. Paul, and of Paul V., declared
excommunicate, and the city and dominions of Venice
placed under interdict, so that no mass could be cele-
brated, no sacrament administered, no bell sounded, in
all the accursed land.
BOOK IV.
FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
CHAPTER I.
Immediate results of the Interdict. — Rome's weapons are still the same. —
Theory of Excommunication. — Text from St. Matthew. — Interdict, its
original use and theory. — Struggles of the civil power against it. —
No appeal to fundamental principles attempted. — Treatise of Chan-
cellor Gerson. — Summary of his positions. — Bellarmine's polemic. —
Sarpi's defence of Gerson. — The rules of the scholastic (/avie admitted
as supreme authority on all sides. — Results to Roman Catholic
intellect. — Labours of the casuLsts. — Sarpi fights his fight as a good
Catholic.
Rome's thunderbolt was launched, — the Vatican Jove
had nodded ; and all Eurojie shook to the foundations of
its civil structure. An ill-educated, ill-tempered, narrow-
minded and irritable old man lost his temper; and agita-
tion, anxiety, dismay, or ill-concealed gratification at the
dismay of others, took possession of every cabinet and
council-chamber throughout the civilised world. The
spiritual consequences, which every good Catholic be-
lieves, and which every professing Catholic is bound
to pretend to believe, to be the inevitable result of this
exercise of pontifical authority, mny be dismissed here
with the remark, that, to any mind habituated to a
free and reverent coiitejiii)latiun of the Creator and liis
creation, no most debased form of fetish-worship, or
devil-worship, can i)rosent a set of notions more mon-
strous, more horriidc, more atheistical. The real
liistorical consequences that absolutely were produced
by this hot-headed old man's ill-advised proceeding
are sufficiently noteworthy.
231' FULMEN STOrrED AT THE FRONTIER.
Great pvobabilit}' of war in Europe was one imme-
diate result. A large growth of anti-Catholic thinking
and writing, and a notable diminution of Rome's
piTStige and power, was another almost as immediate.
But nobody in Europe, in the seventeenth century,
disregarded the phenomenon. Statesmen felt tempest
in the atmosphere ; and set to work to trim, spread, or
take in their sails accordingly. Learned doctors in
every capital and university in Europe pricked up
their ears, sharpened their pens, and rushed forward
to take part in wordy conflict on either side. Grey-
headed guileful diplomatists were travelling from capi-
tal to capital, playing their great game of puss-in-the-
corner, watching each other with genuinely cat-like
stealthy vigilance, and expressing in interminable folios
of countless dispatches and speeches their " regrets,"
or " satisfaction," or " astonishment," and the always
similar emotions of " the King (Emperor, Duke, or
Serene Highness, as the case might be), my master."
Couriers were spurring in hot haste — some five miles
an hour — on every great road in Europe. And the
tremendous deed, which the ill-tempered old man at
Rome had done, was the subject of most of the think-
ing and much of the talking throughout Christendom.
Two centuries and a half have passed since that old
man by his baleful passion brought about all those
remarkable results in the world ; two centuries and a
half, during which the progress of the human mind
and the changes in the principles on which society
founds and manages itself, have been veiy much
greater than those which have occurred during any
other similar portion of the history of mankind. Yet
the world is once again talking, thinking, and writing of
excommunications and interdicts ; not altogether with
ROME UNCHANGED. 235
the same degree of interest, or the same notions and
feelings on the suhject as it did two hundred and fifty
j-ears ago ; hut still as of matters capahle of interfering
"with the measures of statesmen and the welfare of
nations. Still there sits in the old seat there, in
eternal Rome, a wrong-headed, ignorant, and weak old
man, muttering unregarded curses, feebly essajdng to
wield the blunted spiritual sword once brandished to
such effect by his predecessors, and, though impotently,
yet to a certain degree mischievously, striving to hold
back mankind in their upward struggle towards light,
truth, liberty, and happiness. The old refuted sophis-
tries are once again brought out to the light of day ;
the thousand-times exposed falsehoods once more un-
blushingly re-asserted, and not altogether harmlessly.
Moral progress is of slow growth. Unquiet consciences
generate gullible intellects. And mankind must have
made good its advance to a better, more universal, and
more clearl}' comprehended morality, before priestcraft
shall have finally lost its power for evil.
It is favourable however to the prospect of mankind's
escape from it, that Eome makes no progress, no
improvement in the weapons of her warfare against
humanity. She is indeed prevented by the circum-
stances of the case from doing so. The priestly
authority, which by orthodox theory should be exercised
on spiritual matters alone, is prostituted neither more
nor less unblushingly and scandalously to purely mun-
dane objects, than was the case in tlie best " ages
of faith." Lay rulers punish ofTeudcrs against them
by tlie sword. But the "Holy Father" is so habituated
to cursing in his spiritual capafity, that he falls into
it naturally when engaged in the tnmporal affairs of
his principality. It is still, and always Excommunica-
2:36 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
TiON, -wlucli is the great and ever-ready weapon the
Popes liave at every need in their liand for the enforce-
ment of their demands and injunctions.
It was by the unsparing use of this weapon, in the
form of a threat, that Paul Y. had mainly won all the
successes over the temporal governments around liim
which have been recorded in a former chapter. It is
still the engine to which Rome trusts for that sub-
jugation of mankind to which she still aspires. It
will be well, therefore, to spend a few minutes in
examining the nature of a force, which was capable of
producing such effects, and is still not wholly dead.
The power of excommunication is based on that
passage ©f the Gospel of St. Matthew : " If thy brother
sin against thee, &c. . . . tell it unto the Church ; but
if lie neglect to hear the Church, let him be unto thee
as a heathen man and a publican." As usual, the
Cliurch seizes on a passage capable of affording foun-
dation for a convenient doctrine, or rather for a syllo-
gistic series of doctrines, takes it in the most rigorous
literal interpretation of the words, indurates it by dry
unspiritual technicalities of exposition into the pedantic
precision of a legal formula, and then proceeds by
logical application to it of sundry other fossilised
maxims similarly carved out of the quarry of Holy
Writ, to build up on it a huge edifice of canons, claims,
and casuistry, all skilfully shaped for the attainment
of the one great end of priestly domination. " If he
will not hear the Church ..." says the text of Scrip-
ture. But it needs no pointing out to any, tvho have
access to the sacred volume, that the text speaks of the
decision of the Church (that is, of the general con-
gregation of the faitliful), in cases of dispute between
man and man, to be had recourse to after the decision
EXCOMMUXICATIOX. 237
of simple lay arbiters shall have been rejected. But
Ptome first says, that the jn-iest alone constitutes the
Church, Then she advances to the assumption, that
she alone has the right of speaking in the name of
this church of priests. Hearing the Church, therefore,
means hearing her. Next, the subject matter, which
the Evangelist directs the members of a small society
existing under circumstances that rendered appeal to the
ordinary tribunals very undesirable to them, to refer to
the Church, is quietly ignored, and passed over in
silence. Hearing the Church, is hearing the auto-
cratical decrees of the Roman Pontiff on any subject
on which it may please him to issue them. It only
remains to indurate, formalise, and materialise " being
unto thee a heathen and a publican," from expressing
the moral reprobation of a man's fellows in a measure
depending on each fellow Christian's conscience, into
the legal penalties of exclusion from offices and sacra-
ments (the main value of which to the Church is the
weapon supplied by this exclusion from them) ; and
we have the cut and dry Pomish doctrine of Excom-
munication. And every priest in the great sacerdotal
army, from the Pope, wlio fulminates it, to the most
wretched friar wlio trembles at it, glibly bases the
tremendous tyranny on Matt, xviii. 15, 10, 17, as
shortly, sharply, and curtl}' as a deft lawyer cites his
act of parliament, cap., sec, 1 Vict., Sec, as the case
may be.
Now, to generations tauglit from their infancy to
their dying beds that tlie alternative to eacli man, of
eternal torment, or eternal bliss in the life to come,
depends mainly on his regular participation in the
offices and sacraments from which this excon)nuinica-
tion excluded him ; that to be shut out from the fold
238 FULMEN STOrrED AT THE FRONTIER.
of the Church was to be inevitably erased from the
Book of Life ; that no condition of heart or will, no
anxiety to participate in these sacraments, but only
the actiuil formal participation in them, could avail to
make salvation possible, and that each man's eternal
destiny depended on the will of those Avho had the
monopoly of dispensing these rites ; — to generations
holding all this undoubtingly, the authority, which
could grant or withhold at will these all-important
qualifications for eternal happiness, must have been
indeed tremendous. One drawback only existed to the
immensity of the power conferred thereby. It de-
pended for its efficacy on the belief of the individual to
be coerced by it. And there was an inherent probabi-
lity in the nature of the case, that those whom Home
would most desire to strike should be precisely those
whose want of faith made them insensible to the
blow.
The fatal consequences of this weak spot in the
system, however, were in the case of private individuals
provided against with admirable skill, by making the
penalty such as should stiike not only the individual
in his own proper person, but would also scatter its
effects bomb -like on those nearest and dearest to
him. No marriage for the excommunicated man ! No
Christian burial ! If he himself have no belief in the
spiritual consequences of the curse, he must at least
feel the social effects of it. No kindly greeting, no
office of friendship, no interchange of charity ! " He
must live a man forbid." But in the cases of sovereign
rulers — those cases which were most important to
Home in the pursuit of her policy — a far more effective
remedy for the unbelief of the excommunicated was
discovered. For this the " Interdict" was employed.
THE INTERDICT. 239
The Interdict is simply the excommunication of an
entire district, country, or nation. It was originally
pronounced against communities, among whom some
great crime had been committed by an undiscovered
criminah On the production of the guilty person, the
Interdict was removed. But in later times, its use was
to compel the submission of a sovereign or government,
by rendering his position untenable, as being in the
eyes of his subjects the cause of their exclusion from
the Church and its sacraments. It is not difficult to
appreciate the feelings of a CathoHc nation towards a
prince, whose obstinate rebellion against the Holy
Father has the effect of daily consigning husbands,
wives, fathers, children, unshriven and unabsolved to
eternal perdition; whose land is accursed for his sake, '
and throughout whose hapless dominions no church-
going boll is heard, no baptism is to be had for the new-
bom babes, no marriage ties are possible for the young,
no Christian burial rites for the old. The immeasur-
able atrocity of condemning a whole people to such a
doom for any conceivable cause, more than all for such
causes of temporal policy and enmity as usuall}-^ occa-
sioned the fulmination of papal interdicts, is credible
only, as has been said, on the supposition that the utterer
of the curse had no real belief in its efficacy. But even
after giving the successors of St. Peter all the benefit
of a charitable supposition, that they had no faith in
the horrihlo throats with which they tortured men's
minds, still the fulmination of an interdict on an entire
commiuiity may perhaps bo deemed the greatest
wickedness of which any liuman being lias ever been
guilty. Surely the Vicars of Christ, who liave availed
themselves of this resource, must have needed to
repeat to themselves very often, that it was all " for
24-0 FULMEX STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
the greater glory of God ! " For the greater power
of the Church, which of course meant the same thincf,
the Interdict was indeed an all but irresistible weapon.
The civil powers of Christendom fully appreciated its
tremendous efficacy ; and from the time that thought
principally set in motion by the doctrines of the
Reformation, had begun to lead men to the examination
of Rome's authority and its limits, attempts were made
to discover means of resisting the operation of it. And
the line taken by these attempts, the method by wliich
it was sought to escape from the intolerable alternative
of unbounded submission to Rome, or exposure to all
the consequences of her anger, are very notable.
The rulers of Europe had no wish to rebut Papal
oppression by any such examination and exposure of
its pretensions as would have tended to upset the
whole system. For the reasons adduced in a previous
chapter this would not have suited them. No radical
application of the axe to the foundations of ecclesi-
astical tyranny could be ventured on, without greatly
hazarding the adjoining understructure of civil abso-
lutism. The men, therefore, who endeavoured to raise
some barrier of defence for the civil power against
Rome, admitted her first principles, and drew their
arms from the same arsenal whence she took her own.
No appeal to the eternal and essential truth of the
matter was attempted. Both parties based all their
arguments on the ipse-dixit of some admitted authority.
Interpretation of the words of some written text was
the weapon relied on. What this Pope, Council,
Father, or beatified Doctor, had said, was met by what
some other equally indisputable authority had admitted.
The whole scheme of the contest reminds one of the
story of the Chinese lawyer, who defended his client,
GERSOXS CONSIDERATIONS. 241
when unjustly sued for payment of an entirelj- false
bill, by the production of witnesses equally false, who
swore that they had seen him pa}- it.
The low and unsatisfactory position thus taken up
by the greatest and most able of the defenders of the
world against unlimited sacerdotal tyranny, is well ex-
emplified in the short but comprehensive paper drawn
up in twelve " Considerations," by the celebrated
French Chancellor Gerson " on the subject of Excom-
munications and Irregularities;" with an Appendix,
in which the assertion, that a " Pastoral sentence even
when unjust ought to be respected,"* is examined.
Our Conclave-acquaintance, Cardinal Bellarmine, the
Jesuit who had too delicate a conscience to be fit to
be made Pope, drew up a reply to Gerson's paper;
and Sarpi, with learning equal, and acuteness superior
to either of them, answered Bellarmine by a treatise,t
in which the " Considerations " of Gerson are expanded,
justified, and confirmed. The latter work had been
Ijefore the world more than half a century ; and the
new answer of the Jesuit, and the defence of the
Scrv'ite fiiar, indicate the renewed interest in the sub-
ject occasioned by the state of Europe.
The learned Chancellor bases, to begin with, the
punishment of excommunication on the passage already
quoted from St. Matthew, without any word of objec-
tion on the score of the insufficiency of tlie text to
cstablisli any such doctrine. This would have led
him directly to conclusions far too dangerous to the
claims of authority generally. lie next points out tliat
there are three degrees of tlnl refusal to " lintr tho
('hurch," which constitutes what Home technically
• Sentcntia pa8t')ri8 etiam iujusla, limeiida est.
t Opera, vol. iii. p. 242.
242 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
calls " contempt of the power of the keys." The first
occurs •when the rebel disobeys for the sake of dis-
obeying ; when he says, I will not do this or that,
because you command me to do it. The second degree
of guilt is that of him, who obstinately disobeys, being
tempted to do so by his own interest and desires.
The third kind of contempt of the keys consists in any
action done in violation of any of the general standing
orders of the Church, — any sinful or irreligious act
whatsoever, that is to say. The first degree justly
merits excommunication, says the Chancellor ; as does
also the second, Avhen the offender is contumacious ;
the third kind only does not.
This is the substance of the three first Considera-
tions ; and it would seem to the simple mind that
the Chancellor is giving up the whole case. If any
man, who persists in disobeying the Church because
he deems it expedient to do so, deserves excommunica-
tion, Avliat more can be said ? A great deal more, it
seems. Hear our learned canonist Chancellor.
It must not be said, that any one is guilty of con-
tempt of the power of the keys when he resists the
commands of an ecclesiastical authority Avhich mani-
festly and notoriously abuses that power. For such a
one does not disobey the power, but the erroneous
abuse of it. And the ecclesiastic thus abusing his
power, is more guilty of contempt of the power of the
keys than he who resists the abuse. This is the gist
of the fourth and fifth Considerations. And it will
be admitted, that, if it seemed that our Chancellor was
at the beginning of his charge about to sum up against
us, the unexpected turn taken in this second part of
his discourse is at least as strongly re-assuring. And
again we ask ourselves, what more is to be said ? Per-
GEKSOX OX THE TOWER OF THE KEYS. 213
haps some rules are to be laid down for ascertaining,
or some authority established for the decision of that
all-important point, whether the ecclesiastical autho-
rity has in any given case onanifestly and notoriously
abused his powers. Perhaps some attempt at this is
coming ; though it must be owned that it is difficult to
conceive how any such attempt can succeed. But, no !
the Chancellor does not make the slightest allusion to
any such question. He ignores the difficulty entirel3\
He seems not to contemplate a case, in which the ex-
communicated prince or other person might deem the
authority excommunicating him to be manifestly and
notoriously abusing his power, while the individual
exercising the power of the keys might retain an
opposite opinion. He does not see, — or as doubtless
it would be more in accordance with the truth to say,
— he does not choose to aj^pear to see, that he de-
molishes the entire fabric of the Papal pretensions.
For this admission, that an undue exercise of the ex-
communicating power may be treated as null by the
excommunicated part}', in the absence of any possible
court of appeal qualified to decide on the dueness or
undueness, does no less. It leaves in fact the decision
of this cardinal point to the conscience and judgment
of the excommunicated man. The sentence remains
effective and formidable only in tliose cases in which
the rebel against Cliurch authority should admit liini-
self to be wrong, and the Church to be riglit, and
should at the same time persist in the course lie him-
self condeinns. And within these limits the most de-
termined opponent of priestly power miglit be content
to tolerate it.
In fact, after this doctrine lias been laid down, there
is little more to be said on the subject. And the
K 2
244 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
remaining " Considerations " contain merely develop-
ments of what has already been established in principle.
In the sixth, the whole matter is yet more distinctly
made to depend on the private conscience of the
excommunicated person. One individual may be
duly liable to excommunication, it is set forth, and
another not liable to it, in consequence of the same
disobedience to the same ecclesiastical command.
*' And the reason of this is, because the one deems the
sentence just, or on any other ground thinks that he is
bound to obey it; whereas the other does not deem it
just, but on the contrary, knows with certainty, or
has sufficient prohahility * for believing that the eccle-
siastical authority misuses his power."
In a word, he may be excommunicated who thinks
he ought to be. He who holds that he ought not to
be so, has no need to pay heed to it.
Considerations seventh, eighth, and ninth, restate
the same doctrine, and apply it to the Pojie, as well
as to inferior ecclesiastical authorities. The tenth
declares that sentences unduly pronounced may be
resisted by the civil power. The eleventh bears harm-
less sucli " Jurists and Theologians " as may give
their opinions to the effect that any ecclesiastical
sentence is invalid. They are bound to use all caution,
that the Aveak and scrupulous of conscience be not
scandalised. vYet it is their duty by just and fitting
reasoning to correct the " absurdity " of such persons
" as think that the Pope is a God omnipotent in
Heaven and Earth ; " and if they won't be convinced,
the scandal which may arise must be on their oAvn
heads. The twelfth and last of these famous Con-
* The italics arc not Gerson's.
BELLARmNE's REPLY. 245
siderations declares, that those who ought Avith com-
mon accord to resist unjust sentences of the Church,
but who " from imprudence or cowardice " favour
abuses, while their fellow-citizens are striving to
remove them, are in truth guilty of contempt of the
power of the keys. " The truth is," he concludes, " that
every friendly and humble means ought to be tried
with the Pontiff, when of himself or by the ministry of
others he pronounces unjust sentences for lack of
information, to induce him to desist from them, and
to reduce them to what is right. But if these humble
endeavours profit nothing, men ought to put their
hands to a manly and courageous struggle for
liberty."
In Bellarmlne's examination of these Considerations,
as well as in Sarpi's defence of them against him,
we are surprised to find the same real or apparent
unconsciousness of the paramount importance of the
principle, that an excommunication fulminated on
account of disobedience to unjust commands is void,
and that he who thinks the commands unjust is not
liable to the excommunication. One is at first
astounded to find the Jesuit casuist quietly admitting
tlie proposition ; only, in remarking on the sixth
Consideration, in which it is stated, that he who
knows for certainty, or lias sufficient probability * for
believing, that the ecclesiastical authority is abusive,
is not liable to exconnnunication for disobeying it,
Bolbirminc maintains that no amount of such proba-
bility is sufiicient to justify disobedience, but only
certainty that tlie authority resisted is abusivp.
But this assertion of his, and liis reasoning upon it,
* " CcrtHudinaliU-r aut prolabilitatc Buflicicnli," are Geraon'g original
words.
216 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
as well as Sarpi's remarks in repl}', lead us to the
explanation of what has seemed surprising in their
mode of viewing the subject. It is to be found
in the peculiar constitution of the Catholic casuistic
intellect, common to all of them ; and the case in hand
furnishes a very curious example of the peculiarities
alluded to.
To the modern Protestant mind it seems simple and
clear enough, that a man who resists the authority of
another will assuredly think that authority unjust in
its requirements, and that he will be what he will call
" certain " of it. If it be further questioned whether
the resisting party has indeed certainty or only proba-
bility to a greater or less degree that the authority
resisted is acting abusively, the same unscholastic
intellect will reply, that even if philosophic certainty
upon such a point could be satisfactorily distinguislied
from high probability by the philosophic moralist, it is
quite out of the question to expect that it should be
so by a disputant judging in his own case. But all
this shapes itself quite differently to the mind of the
trained and broken-in casuist. Even when appealing
to an accused person's own opinion of his own case, he
cannot free himself, even in imagination, from the
notion that all must be decided by authority. " If
the accused or oppressed thinks his accuser or
oppressor wrong " .... Yes! but he cannot — he
must not ; it is not to be contemplated that he should
think so in defiance of rule. Immense disputation,
folios of authorities, and multiplied supplementary
folios for the due interpretation of the authorities — all
this the scholastic casuist contemplates ; but that such
process duly Avorked should fail to bring out the
certainty needed, net, clear, and acknowledged by all
THE KULES OF THE GAME. 247
parties at the end, he does not contemplate ; nor does
he figure to himself the possibility that either party
convinced against his will should continue of the same
opinion still. It would seem to him like a chess-
player duly check-mated, and refusing to recognise his
defeat. " Now, then ! any move you like," says the
chess-player to his adversary ; hut he does not mean
that he may move his king from one end of the hoard
to the other. " The rules of the game "—that game
wliich all his life and all his intellect has been occu-
pied in learning and playing — the recognised rules
of his game are, in fact, the final and infallible
authority to which, at the bottom of his mind, the
casuist appeals ; and when he allows of another man's
thinking, he does not dream of the possibility of his
thinking in defiance of this authority ; it would be to
him the same as thinking in defiance of the psycho-
logical rules of thought. His mental training has
made the conception of the value of the Protestant I —
" I think thus, let who will think otherwise " — abso-
lutely impossible to him. " 1 think so and so," means
to his mind, " I think that it can be shown tliat tlie
authorities say so and so." He shows you that this
Saint, that Pc^pe, a Father in this age, and a seraphic
Doctor in tliat century, have in fact lield otherwise, and
there is a)i end : you are check-mated, and of course
submit.
Wlien Gcrsou holds that he may resist, who bus
certainty or snllicient probability tluit his superior
is wrong, and when liellainiine restricts tlic rigbt
to cases of certainty, excluding probabihiy, they
are both of tlicm referring, not to the staU; oi tlie
resisting man's mind, but to tcclinical dilferences in
the result to be obtained by submitting the case to
£48 FULMEX STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
those supreme " rules of the game," the decisions of
the books. In them it shall be found that such ii
case is certain ; such another hypothesis highly pro-
bable ; such another sufficiently jirobable to make it
safe to act upon it ; and a fourth still probable, but
not sufficiently so to be prudently adopted. This is
the sort of probability -which the one casuist would
admit and the other reject.
It would not be without interest to trace the pre-
valence of the tone of mind, which has been described,
to its connection with the great doctrines and
necessities of Bomanism ; especially those involved in
the management of the confessional, and in the
attempt of liuman authority to take cognisance of
human sins. But the subject Avould lead us into a
digression too long and too far away from our
immediate business. A very cursory consideration,
however, of the position and duties of a confessor, and
of the difficulties attendant on the pretension to deal
judicially with human sin, as contradistinguished from
human crime, will suffice to indicate what has been the
origin and growth of that tendency, so conspicuous in
the scholastic intellect, to reduce every action of the
mind and every shade of belief and certainty, to ascer-
tainable rule and measure. The first step of an
economist called on to estimate the capabilities and
resources of a country, is to obtain an accurate survey
of its divisions, natural and artificial, its inequalities of
surface, and all the physical circumstances attending
each portion of its soil. He requires, in short, an
acurate and detailed map of the country. Exactly
such a surveyor's map of the human heart and intellect
is absolutely necessary to the confessor and casuist.
When every sin, inceptive sin, temptation to sin, each
EOMISH CASUISTRY. 249
amount of knowledge and ignorance, and doubt
modifying sinfulness, lias to be measured and tariffed,
each impulse of the will to be distinguished, counted,
and weighed, the first requirement for the work is such
a perfect and minute chart as has been indicated.
Utterly, monstrously impossible, as it is clear that the
attainment of any such survey must for ever be, it is
nothing less than this, which the Romish Church has
attempted, and which she imagines, or professes to
imagine, she has perfected. And most curious and
interesting is the huge mass of surveying apparatus,
which her indefatigable labourers in this field have
accumulated, as it may be examined in the fohos of the
casuists, and the tons of dusty volumes destined to
assist — or rather to render in some degree possible —
the labours of the confessor. Very curious and very
instructive is it to examine the enormous amount of
labour, ingenuity, and acute intelligence, which has
been brought to bear on this hopeless task, to mark
the complete failure, and to estimate the result of both
on the lionian Catholic intellect. The study of this
will make intelligible much that seems strange to us
in the polemics of which we have been speaking above.
\Ve shall compreliend the confidence, with which the
" thinking" even of an adversary is appealed to, and
the possibility of his tliiiiking independently of the
rules and the authorities ignored. We sliall under-
stand how and why it seemed to scholastic disputants,
that a clear and sure decision must be cvolvable iroiu
disputes based on tlio dcfuiitions and axioms of the
recognised authorities. We sliall ai)prcciatn tl»c
necessity whidi professedly orthodox Catholics wore
under, of making their dispute a tilting match within
the lists barriered round by these fundamental prin-
250 rULMEJJ STOPPED AT THE FROXTIER.
ciples, and the danger, or rather certaint}', there would
have been of bringing down in ruin the whole edifice
of Catholic fixith, had they ventured to extend the fight
beyond them.
Sarpi professed himself in life and in death an
orthodox Catholic ; and there is reason to believe that
he was sincere in that profession. His memorable
struggle with Kome had to be carried on therefore, —
and it is necessary to bear this in mind, — within the
limits described, and by means of the weapons deemed
legitimate by his adversaries. He fought heavily
weighted and with chains around his limbs. All the
stronger will be our admiration of the intellectual
prowess of his achievements. But it is vexing some-
times to the Protestant reader to follow him in his
refutation of erudition by profounder erudition, of
formal logic by logic more correctly formal, and of
wordy quibbles by something now and then somewhat
like quibbling, and to see and feel all the time that a
bold appeal to fundamental truth would have cut his
way through the thousand-fold cobweb work of
authority, quotation, and word-catching, once for all.
But fundamental truth is a lever that will not pull out
from the wall the particular stone we wish to remove,
and leave the rest all firm in their places. And none
of the disputants or their various backers and sup-
porters were desirous of more than removing a stone
or two from the edifice, which in fact they were shaking
to its foundations.
CHAPTEE II.
What was to be said, and what was to be done about the Interdict. — No
real faith in the effect of excommunication, except among the
uneducated masses. — Esoteric and exoteric doctrines. — Danger to
society from the distinction. — Real meaning and intent of the
Interdict. — Means of resistance adapted to this intent. — How about
Sarpi's orthodo.\y ? — Position of the Venetian priests. — Anecdote
of the measures adopted towards one of them. — Results of State and
Church connection. — The Friar's orthodoxy again. — The material
measures adopted l)y the Senate more interesting to us, thau the
theological arguments of its advocates.
Sarpi held with Gerson, as has been seen, that he
who believed "with certainty or with a sufficient
degree of in'obability," that he was wrongfully excom-
municated by the ecclesiastical power, was not bound
to pay any heed to the sentence, and might, in fact,
consider himself as not excommunicate at all. lie
moreover advised the Venetian government, in liis
capacity of retained thcoh^gical adviser, tliat they had
ample ground to believe, that the sentence fulminated
against them was wrongful, and abusive, and as sudi
void and null. Tl wouid seem therefore, looking
simply at the tbeological theory of the matter, that it
was thereliy settled, and at an end. 'i'lie Venetian
excommunicated Senators might, if they put faith
in their adviser, go with tranquil consciences to their
l)eds, and regard Paul's curses as so nuuli impotent
and inoperative scolding.
252 PULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIRR.
But such was not the terrible friar's advice to his
patrons, when asked what 2vas to he done witli regard
to the Interdict pronounced against them. He pro-
posed to them, it will be remembered, two courses : —
one, appeal to a future Council ; which according to
the Gersonian theory defended by him was, to say the
least, unnecessary ;— the other, material resistance to
the material publication of the Pope's sentence ; which
according to any theory of the matter could have no
effect whatever on the supposed efficacy and results of
that instrument. And he moreover expressed himself
much in favour of the latter course. His theory and
his practice, therefore, in this matter seem to have been,
for such a man, strangely inconsistent.
Yet they were not more so than those of his adver-
saries on this subject, and of the inflictors of these
dread comminations themselves. That fierce old
fighting Pope, Julius IL, had said a hundred years
before, that excommunications should only be sent to
sovereigns on the points of lances ; and Paul V. himself
sought, as will be seen, ere the quarrel was over, to
reinforce his anathema by the ordinary mundane
" ultima ratio regum."
Why was this ? Venice had disobeyed the Church,
and had incurred the appointed penalty for such sin ;
her rulers and her citizens had been consigned to
eternal perdition ; unending torment of soul and body
Avas the certain doom to which those hoary-headed
Senators were hastening over the few short years that
yet remained to most of them before the commence-
ment of their sentence. AVas it not enough ? Pro-
voking, doubtless, it may have been to a Holy Father
to hear these lost wretches cheerfully maintaining their
disbelief in any such coming doom. It would have
DISBELIEF IX THE TOWER OF THE KEYS. 253
been more agi'eeable, had Heaven's providence so willed
it, to see at once the beginning of the operation of the
curse, and to hear the first notes of the eternal wail so
shortly to arise from those obdurate hearts, undeceived
too late ! But their fate was none the less certain —
none the less known to be certain by the awe-struck
bystanding nations of Europe. Was it not enough,
either for vengeance or for example, without the poor
insignificant make -weight of shooting down a few of the
rebellious Eepublic's soldiers ?— not to mention that
St. IMatthew has omitted to hint at any such modes of
treating a brother as a heathen and a publican.
How came it that Rome was thus insensible to the
monstrous anti-climax of following up damnation by a
raid of lances across the frontier ? How came it that
the terrible friar, with his clear and vigorous intellect,
could think of defending his clients from the pains and
penalties of eternity by preventing the delivery of a
printed paper ? Did he imagine the dread sentence
which awarded Heaven's condemnation to eternal woe
to be of the nature of a process-server's writ, Avhich is
inoperative unless personally served ?
The answer to such questions and the explanation
of such inconsistencies is to be found in the distance
which already separated the beginning of the seven-
teenth century from the ages of faith. Probably not
(jne of the Senators who voted, as we have seen,
unanimously for resistance to Ptome, despite Jesuit
confessors, was the least troubled in his mind by any
fear of the consequences of his conduct at the eternal
judgment scat. It is not to be thought tliat ;ill llie
priests, who at the bidding of the Venetian governnicnt
performed their functions in defiance of papal j>rolii-
bition, believed that they were abandoning their hopes
254 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
of Heaven for tlic sake of their daily mess of pottage.
Nor had the papal court any reason to flatter them-
selves that the " most Christian " and " most Catholic "
rulers of other states Avould, should the case arise, be
found more amenable to spiritual terrors than the
Senators of Venice. In short, faith was wanting.
The mainspring of Rome's machineiy was broken : she
could no longer rule those minds she most wished to
rule by threats of the invisible, because she could no
longer persuade them to believe her.
And all this was equally well known to be so by all
the parties concerned : as well known at Rome as at
Venice, at Paris, or at London. Still it did not follow
that Rome might not yet so wield her spiritual weapons
as to compel the obedience of disbelieving statesmen
and sovereigns. The Interdict was still an engine of
power ; and the civil rulers of the nations of Europe
knew well that it was so. The modus oj^eraiidi — the
method of working this yet formidable though much
worn-out engine — was simply the same as that by means
of which Rome is still, even at this day, able to exercise
a power in the world. It consists of arming the igno-
rance against the intelligence of mankind. If sovereigns,
priests, statesmen, senators, and learned doctors, had
no longer any fear of the evil to be inflicted on their
own individual souls by the Pope's interdict, the un-
educated masses of the people were not j^et emancipated
from such terrors. And here again, as ever, the
ignorance of the great bulk of the social body became
a power of terribly retributive force against the governing
few, who had kejit the means of knowledge to them-
selves, and suffered the huge majority of their fellow-
citizens to remain far below the level of their own
enlightenment.
KNOWLEDGE IS TOWER. 255
It is a very dangerous, and always in the long run a
losing game — that favourite old device of an esoteric
and an exoteric doctrine ; the first to be jealously
guarded as the privileged possession and monopoly of
the few, the other to be freelj' distributed and preached
abroad among the many. It is a tempting notion to
human exclusiveness, selfishness, and shortsightedness.
Knowledge is power : true ! And it is assumed that
this power can most efficiently be exercised over those
who possess none of it. False ! Ignorance also makes
a power, and a terrible one, out of human passions ; a
power, too, precisely of that kind over which the power
of knowledge has least means of action and least in-
fluence. Knoicledge, not ignorance, is the element on
which knowledge can legitimately and beneficently act.
Men may rule horses by trusting to the more powerful
animal's ignorance of his strength, and taking them in
to the end of the chapter. But, thanks to Almight}^
Avisdom, the eternal laws have provided that man can-
not be long so governed. Miserable indeed, and
Ijccoming now at length in some degree rather old-
fasliioned, it may be lioped, is that conception of the
power and function of knowledge whicli makes it consist
in the ability to diq^e those from whom it has been
kept back. Wliether or no such has been in reality
the conception on whicli the government of the world
has been attempted, the historians of ancient i^liilo-
sophies and modern churches, of Egyptian mysteries,
and European laws of the press, pious frauds and sliaiii
l)eliefs, can tell us. ^^'ll(ib(■r oi- no Uic. \i]:\u lias
answered, whether the world has i)r()rit('d oi- .siiir<'red
from the conception, may be read in the. records of
socifil cataclysms and revolutions, of anarchies and
devastations, of religions become rotten, of atheisms,
250 rULMEN STOPrED AT THE FKONTIER.
of maddened populations rebelling against all power
and control of knowledge.
The knowing white man, with his cunning gun and
telescope, seems a god to the ignorant savage. But if
the man of knowledge be called on to play the god for
any length of time, tlie day will not fail to come when
he would, ah, how gladly ! give up all his prestige,
could he but so illumine only a little the darkened
intellect of his dangerous worshipper. Sooner or later
that day must come to all rulers who speculate on the
ignorance of their subjects; who make the fatal mis-
take of imagining that the power of knowledge is
greatest over those who most lack it ; who have dared
to avow, or, without avowing, to act, on the cynical
" Populus vult decipi, decipiatur " principle of a
practically atheist church.
The power and danger of the Interdict lay, and was
by all parties perfectly well understood to lie, in the
ignorance of the people — in the much greater degree
of their ignorance than that of their governors. Not
that the Venetian government was in any way a special
sinner in this matter. Had it been a part of the
policy of the Queen of the Adriatic to diffuse among
her people the best knowledge which the stage of
human progress at that epoch rendered possible, she
might in all security have disregarded the Pope, and
his curses, and his Interdict. But such a policy would
have implied a very much greater advance in know-
ledge than her own wisest and best, or those of any
other country had then attained to.
The educated classes, as has been shown, had little
or no belief in the terrors of excommunication. But
the populace had. lltey could not be expected to
endure quietly the deprivation of their sacraments.
TKUE MEANING OF INTERDICT. 257
The real gist, therefore, of the Pojie's threat, stripped
of all orthodox propriety of phrase, aud reduced to the
indecent condition of naked truth, had no reference to
the eternal weal or -woe of the grave and learned
Senators, his enemies ; but in fact stood thus :
" If )'ou do not submit to my decree, I will command
all my priests, who are spread over the length and
breadth of your land, and who are, observe, not your
but my liege subjects, to desist from performing all
those functions which the peoi^le have been taught to
believe are absolutely necessary to their escape from
eternal torment hereafter. I will instruct these priests,
my servants, to point out everywliere to the people
tliat their destruction is thus caused solely by your
obstinacy; that their dead are dying, lost, and unshriven,
and their babes being born unbaptised in lieathenry,
only because you will not alter a law wliich in nowise
touches their feelings or interests ; that all would be
put right if only more religious men liad rule in
Venice. And I leave you to judge liow far you will
be able to govern a people thus persuaded; how long
you will have to wait for rebellion and insurrection ;
how you will defend yourselves against a people
maddened by ignorance, and superstitious terror, who
know tbat you are the cause of its sufferings."
fl^ This was the true meaning and oi)eration of the
interdict; and the statement of it supplies at once tin'
explanation and key to the inconsistencies that have
been adverted to in the terrible friar's methods of
resistance to it. The new putting forth of (icrson's
celebrated " Considerations," the arguments based on
them, the immense amount of erudition and subtle
distinction-taking and h;iir-.sj)litting on the subject ol'
excommunications and interdicts in general, and on
H
25S FUUIEN STOrrED AT THE FliONTIEK.
those now launched against Venice in particular, the
vast ai^paratus of casuistry and scholastic learning
brought to bear on the matter b}^ Sarpi and his coad-
jutors, were of course addressed to the educated
portion of the world only. Whatever might be proved
or persuaded by these learned labours, they were
wholly unavailing to meet the real danger threatened
by the Interdict. And it was for this purpose that
that other plan of preventing the material publication
of the Pope's sentence was recommended by him.
The Pope threatens to tell the people things calculated
to alarm and disturb them. Do not let him tell them
anything. He will forbid all priests to perform their
services and sacraments. Compel the priests to do all
these things as usual. The Pope can, it is true, pro-
nounce the most dreadful penalties against them in
case of disobedience to his commands. But these
penalties he only professes to be able to inflict in
another world, and his power to do so may be doubted.
You have got their bodies in your hands, and your
power over them is immediate and undoubted. It is
true, that the same people who believe that the
material performance of the sacraments is absolutely
essential to their salvation, must also necessarily be-
lieve that these sacraments dispensed in defiance of the
Papal edicts and declarations are null and of no value,
if they are at all consistent in their orthodoxy. But
the people are not consistent. Let all go on outwardly
as usual : let the bells be rung, the mass be said, the
candles lighted, baptisms, marriages, confessions, ex-
treme unctions, and burials, be performed according
to the usual forms, and all will be well ; no awkward
(juestions will be asked concerning the intrinsic
validity of all these ordinances. They will answer
SARPl's ORTHODOXY. 259
every purpose, as well as if they were as genuine in
quality as Papal authority could make them.
This was the meaning of resisting by force the pub-
lication of the Interdict. But all these solemn and
unspeakabl}'' important offices, were they not really in
the mind of any Catholic null and invalid, when dis-
pensed by priests expressly prohibited by the supreme
Vicar of Christ from dispensing them ? All the con-
fessions and last absolutions given under such circum-
stances, by means of which the Venetian people were
to be kept quiet and loj'al to their government, were
they not all fallacious ? And were not the duped
recipients of them sent on their way to a future state
unsliriven, in fact, and unabsolved, to find too late that
the eternal weal of thousands had been sacrificed to
maintain the policy of Venice ? AVliat of this, Father
Paul ? Can we suppose for an instant our " theological
adviser" to have contemplated anything so horrible ?
Most assuredly not. But then, how about our hero's
orthodox Ptomanism ?
Tlien again, what of all those poor priests so peremp-
torily called on to serve two different masters ? Sarpi,
knowing right well his brethren of the cloth, was of
opinion, that the master who lijid in Ids power the
keys of tlie " polenta " cupboard would prevail against
him who held only those of St. Peter. And the event
showed, that he judged his reverend brethren rigbtly.
Still the alternative between starvation mikI (l.inuia-
tion proposed to these lioly men was a liard one; ; — if
cither the proposer of it, or those to whom it was
proposed, believed in earnest what thoy professed to
believe. A case is recorded of a Venetian priest inindful
of ordination vows, canons, and solemn obligations of
all sorts, who hesitates much as to obeying the order of
2GU I'DLJIEN STOITHD AT THE FRONTlElt.
the government, that he sliall continue to celebrate his
offices as usual, despite all Papal commands to the
coutrar}'. His church is an important one, and much
ma}^ liaug on the dangerous example of its silenced
bells and closed doors. A messenger from the chiefs
of the " Ten " desires speech with the recalcitrant
priest on the Saturda}' night; begs distinctly to be
told what his reverence's intentions are respecting the
morrow's services. Piously and cunningly the hard-
pressed priest replies, that it is wholly impossible for
him to say what he shall do in the matter, seeing that it
will depend on the inspiration vouchsafed to him by
the Spirit at the moment. With this well-weighed
reply the messenger returns ; but very quickly presents
himself again before the devout waiter on spiritual
teaching. " The chiefs of ' the Ten ' can make no
objection to so judicious a resolution as his reverence
has arrived at ; yet think it well to intimate their own
btrong conviction, that should the Spirit move him to
omit, or anywise alter the accustomed services of his
parish, the same Spirit would infallibly move them to
hang his reverence before noon at his own church
door!" And the due services were (most uncanonically)
performed with the utmost canonical exactitude.
Surely a hard case for a conscientious priest ! And
yet they were equally conscientious priests no doubt,
those canons one has heard of in our own day, down
in a quiet little red sand-stone city under the Welsh
hills, who, in worse case even than that of the Venetian
rector, had, at the peremptory bidding of a lay master,
to get moved at very short notice by the Spirit to
elect a Bishop, whom the Spirit had already once
moved them specially not to elect. And why should
we suppose the chiefs of "the Venetian Ten" to have
STATE CHURCHISM. 2G1
been more guilty than the English chief, of driving
these hardly bestead ecclesiastics to the eternal per-
dition of their souls ? Had such a contin£(encv been
sucfe;ested to the members of that high tribunal, some
Venetian equivalent for the expressive, though unclassi-
cal monosyllable, " bosh ! " would, I am inclined to think,
have indicated that those seventeenth century seniors
were already very far removed from the ages of faith.
Injurious, you will say, to the interests of true
religion ! Truly somewhat more than injurious. But
if Popes tclll have temporalities ; if churches will be
state-churches, and bishops will have seats in the
House of Lords, what would you have ? " "What have ! "
cries Rome ; " why pure and entire ecclesiastical
supremacy, to be sure ! We know, that our demands
and aims are incompatible with any other arrangement
of human affairs." Well said, Rome, and logically.
But you, my respected friends of the English Church
Establishment, what would you have ? Amid the
confusion of a thousand eagerly answering tongues,
the only intelligible reply is, "Not any inquiry or
attempt to render our situation logical and consistent,
which might result in making it clear that our lialf-
way position on tlie slippery slope, that leads from
Ptomanism to thorough Protestantism, is in trulli
wliolly untenable."
But in this matter of constraining priests by tem-
poral lay-inflicted pains and ])enalties to do thai,
which tlieir vows and spiritual ol>ligutions unquestion-
ably required them not to do, which resulted from tln'
course of acti(jn recommended to the Senate by tlie
*' terrible friar," what, once again, is to be said of the
friar's orthodoxy? We may "pause f<»r a r<ply," us
the phrase goes, till some chiirt sliall have been dis-
262 FULMEN STOrrED AT THE FKONTIEIJ.
covered \vliich sliiiU enable a man to trace all the
windings, anal3'se all the mixed motives, decompose all
the subtly compounded combinations of prejudice,
passion, and conviction, and accurately lay down the
limits of the enlightenment and blindness, which go
to the composition of a human mind.
Of the two means, which Sarpi took and recom-
mended for the defence of A^enice from the assaults of
Rome's spiritual arms, the simpler and material one
will be most worthy of our attention. It will be mox'e
interesting to observe what the Senate did, than to
examine what its theological advocates said on the
subject. The line of argument taken by them, the
inefficient nature of it, and the reasons which necessi-
tated those learned and clear-headed writers to content
themselves with that course, have been sufficiently
indicated in speaking of Gerson's " Considerations,"
Sarpi's defence of them, and Bellarmine's repl}'. Any
debating of the subject of Rome's excommunicating
power, and her use of it, which could be of any
intei'est at the present day (if indeed it can be supposed
that any consideration of the matter can be hence-
forward necessary or useful), must take a totally
different line, appeal to other principles, and be based
on an entirely different oi'der of ideas. Little of amuse-
ment, therefore, and less of utility could be got from
following the celebrated champions in this great fight
in the vast disj)lay of learning which they adduced,
and the ingenuity and acuteness with which they
applied the authorities admitted by both parties as
umpires in the quarrel.
The j)ractical measures taken by the Venetian
government for the prevention of the publication of the
Interdict will be more interesting. The carrying out
INTERDICT MADE CONTRABAND. £63
of the notable plan of avoiding spiritual censures bv
stopping them at the frontier like contraband goods —
much as if one should seek to impede tlie passage of
the lightning by putting up a five-barred gate — will
afford a glimpse of the life, ideas, and social condition
of that day and country worth looking at.
CHAPTER III.
Measures taken by Venice. — DivkleJ into four categories. — Means adopted
for preventing the Pope's Lrief from entering Venice. — The Doge to
the Nuncio. — Formal protest against the Interdict. — The foreign
ambassadors. — France. — Spain. — Germany. — The smaller States. —
The English ambassador. — Venice arms. — Penal measures adopted
against disobedient priests. — Nonconforming priests acted rightly. —
Steps taken against various priests. — The Capuchins and Theatines. —
Bishop's relatives threatened. — The Jesuits quit Venice.
If the launching of the Interdict against Venice,
and the publication of it by affixing the document to
the doors of St. Peter's and other similar spots in
Rome, caused an immediate agitation in every court in
Europe, it may be imagined that in Venice itself the
commotion was intense, and the activity of every branch
of that peculiarly constituted government extreme.
The eyes of Europe were in truth on them ; their
cause was everywhere felt to be more or less nearly
that of every other Christian lay government. And if
ever there had been a crisis in the long and brilliant
history of Venice, when it behoved her Patricians to
show themselves worthy of their old renown for energy,
wisdom, and courage, it was the present. And Venice
was equal to the occasion. Party feuds and bickerings
and jealousies were lost sight of, or at least adjourned.
The votes of the College and even of the Senate were
on almost every occasion unanimous. The sittings of
MEASURES OF THE SENATE. r^Co
the College were so frequent as almost to amount to
permanence. The same activity pervaded ever}'- branch
of the administration. Every man was at his post.
Nothing was omitted or forgotten or delayed.
It is altogether impossible to compress into a few-
pages any attempt to follow, step by step, the multitu-
dinous provisions adopted by the executive, the endless
interviews with the resident ministers of all the various
governments, and the debates in the Senate and the
College. 13ut the measures of the government may
be tolerably exhaustively ranged under four cate-
gories.
1st. Protest against, and provisions to prevent the
introduction into the territory of the Papal instru-
ment.
2nd. Constant representations of the position, rights,
and resolutions of the Republic to foreign governments,
both by means of the Venetian ambassadors at the
various European courts, and through their represen-
tatives residing at Venice.
.'Jid. Arming ; — by no means the least important
step, or the least curiously significant, as a means of
opposing a sentence condemning them to punishment
in anotlier world.
•1th. Penal measures against recalcitrant and Roman-
ising priests.
In the first place, immediately on getting news from
their ambassadors at Rome of the imminent publication
of the Interdict, the Senate came to llic following reso-
lution : — " Having reason to believe from wlnit we lienr
from our ambassadors at Rome, that the Pontiff (still
persisting in his severity and bitterness against tin;
Republic, and in his unjust and undiu! pretensions in
matters notably affecting our liberties.) will probably
2GG FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
l)ublisli and jjublicly placard some bull of excommuni-
cation or interdict, it is consistent with the wonted
prudence of this Senate to make provision against any
such occurrence, and with all due diligence and care
provide against an}' inconvenience which may thence
ai'isc," &c. &c.* It was thereupon determined to issue
strict injunctions to the Patriarchal Vicar, and to all
parish priests in Venice and throughout the territor}'-
on terra firma, not to open any bull, brief, or other
writing whatsoever, nor to suffer the same to be affixed
in any place ; but to send any such immediately to the
College. Ver}' heavy penalties Avere pronounced against
all transgressors of these orders. The same orders
were further issued to all clerical persons whatsoever,
monks, nuns, friars, chaplains, &c. All such persons
were further commanded to make diligent search the
first thing in the morning to see if any bull, brief, or
paper of any kind had been affixed to their churches
in the night, and in such case to remove them instantly.
"Watchers were also appointed to patrol the city by night
and prevent the surreptitious placarding of any such
paper or document whatever.
The Senate decreed also, that in case the Nuncio
should come before the College, and should attempt
to present any bull or brief from Rome, the Doge
should address him in the following words; — words
carefully weighed and selected, another somewhat
different form of address having been proposed and
put to the vote, when the following Avas preferred.
" My Lord ! " the Doge was to say, " having reason
from past circumstances to believe, that the brief
which 3'our Reverend Lordship wishes to present con-
* Gomet., Op. cit. p. 55.
THE DOGE TO THE NUNCIO. 267
tains matters of a disagreeable nature,*" and not such
as our most religious Eepublic deserves from the
Apostolic See, it is our intention not to receive it. AVe
should always, on the other hand, receive with good
will briefs from his Holiness, when they are of a
satisfactory kind,t and such as ought to pass between
a father and his children. This brief therefore your
most Reverend Lordship may carry back again,t since
we do not intend, as we have said, to receive it." And
if the Nuncio should nevertheless persist in leaving
the paper, orders were to be forthwith given by the
Doge in his presence, that it should be carried back to
his house b)' one of the secretaries.
Orders were likewise sent to the Governors in Dal-
matia, Candia, and Corfu, to be on the watch to pre-
vent any publication of the Interdict in any place or in
any way in their provinces.
A few days afterwards, on the 27th of April, the
Senate " having heard that certain printed papers re-
ferring to ecclesiastical censures have arrived in this
cit}', and it being not convenient that the same, (though
null, unjust, and abusive,) should be spread abroad, in-
asmuch as they are incompatible with our civil juris-
diction, with the liberty of our dominions, with tlie
preservation of our rights, our honour, and the lives of
our citizens ; and moreover are contrary to the will of
tliis Council, which has for the above reasons prohi-
bited tliiit any such i)apors should be published or
placarded in this city and its territory," decree that
public proclamation be made in the accustomed places
of the city and its dependencies to the eflect, that it is
forbidden to all men whatsoever in Venice or its domi-
• "Cose spiacevoli."
t "Qmndo foSHcro di sotldiitfationc." * " Lo potia rtportare."
2G8 FULMEN STOrrEU AT THE FllONTIEU.
nions to be in possession of, or liave about them, any
such papers ; autl that any person of whatever rank or
condition avIio may have received, or hereafter shall
receive such, shall fortliwith bring the same to the
College ; — and this under pain of capital punishment
in case of disobedience.
On the Otli of May, the Senate ordered the publi-
cation of a formal and solemn protest against the
attack of the Papal power. It was printed in Latin
and in the vulgar tongue, placarded in all public places,
and forwarded to all foreign courts. It is stated to be
"in conformity with the opinion of the theologians and
consulting jurists of the government." It is headed,
*' Leonardo Donato, by the grace of God, Doge of
Venice ; " and is addressed to " The most reverend
Patriarchs, Archbishops, and Bishops of all our states,
and to the Vicars, Abbots, Priors, Pectors of parish
churches and other ecclesiastical dignitaries." The
paper motives the protest on the necessity of main-
taining the authorit}'- of the Venetian republic, " which
in matters temporal recognises no superior save the
Divine Majesty;" and then admonishes the ecclesi-
astics to whom it is addressed to make no change in
the customary ordinances and functions of divine
worship, seeing that the Papal document is null and
void.*
On the Gist of May the Senate is still occupied in
providing against the possibility of any clandestine in-
troduction of the much dreaded document. It is diffi-
cult to understand that so very nmch importance should
have been attached to the mere existence of a copy of
the paper in the countr3\ And, to our notions, it
* This important .state paper will be founJ translated at lengtli in
Note 5, at end of Volume.
MEASURES TO EXCLUDE THE BULL. 2G0
would appear utterly impracticable to attain the object
in view. To exclude every copy of a short printed
document which so large a number of persons were
interested in introducing, would appear beyond the
power even of the dreaded " Ten." It did not seem
so to the Venetian government. Orders were on the
above-mentioned dav sent to the governors of Padua,
and all the other cities on the main land, to take care
that the guards at the city gates should bring imme-
diately before them any friar whatever who should
arrive at the cit}' ; to examine accurately all such per-
sons, so as to ascertain whetlier they carry about them
any document or writing. The governors of cities are
further empowered not only to refuse admittance to any
friar who may, in their opinion, be lilcely to cause dis-
tui'bance among the citizens, but to cause such persons
to be conducted beyond the frontiers of the Venetian
territory.
The next great object of the government was to set
their quarrel with Home in a favourable light before
the different sovereigns of Europe. The most im-
portant of these were France and Spain. The repre-
sentatives of both these powers* were from the beginning
of the quarrel profuse in assurances of the affection of
their masters towards the Republic ; of their regret at
the dissensions which had arisen, and of their desire
to see a good understanding restored. Both courts
were, from selfish motives, anxious to assume to them-
selves the position and ofiice of mediator and peace-
maker. But France would seem to liave been sincere
in her regret that any such contest should have arisen,
and genuinely anxious to see a good uiKh-rstanding-
• Philippe Cinaj-c dc I'rcsDC, for France ; and Dou Inigo dc Cardenas,
for Spain.
370 FULJIEX STOPPED AT THE FJIONTIER.
restored. The opinions, too, prevalent in the French
court were such as inclined French statesmen to re-
gard the matters in dispute from the Venetian point
of view ; though the}', nevertheless, were all along
urgent witli the Venetians to find some mode of giving
at least an apparent satisfaction to the Pope on some
of the points in dispute. In tlie Spanish professions of
friendly feeling, on the other hand, there was probably
very little sincerity. Philip III. was secretly not dis-
pleased at the quarrel, trusting that France might be
led to commit herself so far in favour of Venice as to
make enmity between herself and Eome. Spain's hope
was, that thus all that advantage to her designs on
France, which had arisen from the religious wars in
that countr}', and from the king's heresy, but which
had been lost by Henry IV.'s reconciliation with
Eome, might be regained by a new breach between that
monarch and the Holy See. Opinion, too, in Spain
was far more favourable to lofty Papal pretensions.
Philip was quite determined to range himself on the
side of the Pope, if, as at one time seemed likelj'-, an
European war arose out of the matter. Nevertheless,
even Philip III. seems to have been not quite insen-
sible to the danger that a too powerfully protected
Pope might become his protector's master. His wiser
advisers, such as the Duke de Lerma, warned him, that
the very claims which the Pope was pressing against
Venice might be very dangerous to the authority and
power of his majesty in Spain. So far Spain was
sincere in her professions, that if peace were to be
made between the contending parties, she wished
to have herself the credit of being the peacemaker,
especially if she could succeed in arranging the
terms of a compromise that should be humbling to
PHILIP LANG. 271
the pride of the Piepublic, and agreeable to that of the
Pontifif.
The Emperor Rodolph 11. sent civil messages and
advice to lose no time in making up the quarrel
somehow before worse dangers grew out of it. The
Venetian ambassador, however, at the Imperial Court,
writes on the 8th of ^lay, IGOO, telling the Senate that
no good can be done there without the good will of one
Philip Lang, a favourite chamberlain of the Emperor;
and recommending that this good will should be pur-
chased " by means of a present ; as, for instance, a gold
chain of the value of three hundred ducats," which
would be especially welcome just then, as " in a few
days he is going to marry his son; on which occasion
everybody will give something ; and excellent good
effects ma)'- be expected from doing the same." On
the 19th of June, tlie Ten determined to give this
Lang a chain worth two hundred ducats. But, on the
SCtli, we find the resolution rescinded. And we are
permitted to hope that tlie Ten were, on better
thouglits, ashamed of attempting to assist their good
cause by such means.*
The smaller states, especially those of Italy, all
expressed, more or less frankly, their sympathies with
Venice in her stand against Papal encroachment. It
was with theni a case of iiroximiiH Ucalerjon. The
Popes were ever dangerous and troublesome neigh-
Ijours ; and each one of these sovereigns i'vh lliat it
might be his turn next to be threatened, bullied, and
interfered with.
Among the rest, the English ambassador is in
* Two yearfl afterwards tlii.s Lang was irniirlsnnrcl in tlio WJiitc Tower
at Piaguo for iniquities of all Borts ; and died there in IGIO. Coinrt^ Op.
cit. p. 77.
•172 FULMEN STUITED AT THE EKONTIEU.
frequent communication \vith the College ; nnd it is
iimusing to mark the contrast of the frank out-spoken
thorough-going language of Sir Henry AVotton with the
cautious and lengthy circumlocution of the Continental
diplomatists. On receiving official communication of
the Interdict, the English envoy declared that in the
matter in dispute he saw that the cause of the Republic
"rested on clear grounds of right, and on a deter-
mination to keep what was their own ; in which term
he meant to comprise not only their cities and terri-
tories, which are matters of inferior moment, but theii-
honour, and political and religious liberty." He told
them that they could confide in no one better than in
him, inasmuch as England had no interest whatever in
the matter; and "because, too, I come from a country
which knows what the value of an excommunication is
to a farthing. And although I am not by profession
either theologian or canonist, yet I, for my part, will
believe that God has not ordained that justice shall be
destroyed by theology. These two sciences, as well as
all the others, ought to be co-ordinate, and not repug-
nant to each other ; and when theology begins to en-
croach on what does not belong to it, it exceeds its due
bounds." *
The tone of Wotton's communications with the
Venetian government throughout is calculated to
encourage them in their resistance. Alone, of all the
numerous foreign representatives, he has no word to
say in favour of yielding an inch ; though he conveys
with more of due diplomatic decorum, probably, than
sincerity, his royal master's "regret " tliat the misun-
derstanding should have arisen. It will be remem-
* Cornet, Op. cit. p. 62.
VENICE ARMS. 273
bered that Wotton, as well as his chaplain Bedell, was
the intimate friend of Sarpi.
Among other means of rebutting Rome's spiritual
attack, the Republic did not neglect powder and shot.
References to St. Augustine were good, but a few regi-
ments of soldiers might be as much to the purpose
after all. It was at first expected that Paul would
assuredl}' back up his condemnation of the Republic
to eternal perdition by sending his troops across the
frontiers. An anxious watch was kept on the military
movements of the neighbouring ecclesiastical pro-
vinces ; forces were ordered to be taken into the pay of
the Republic, and funds for Avarlike operations pro-
vided. At one moment a good opportunity offered
itself of beginning hostilities on the oifensive. Don
Cesare of Este, who had been wrongfully ousted from
his duchy of Ferrara by Pope Clement VIII., made
overtures to the Senate to join him in retaking his
dominions. The Ten, however, were not confident of
the success of the enterprise; but deliberated and de-
layed till Ferrara was reinforced by additional Ponti-
fical troops, and the moment for the attempt had
passed. And it was probably quite as well on tlie
whole tl)at the Venetians did not proceed to roies de
/ait for the restitution of their sacraments.
It remains to speak of tlie compulsory provisions
and penalties enacted by the Senate against such
l)riests as preferred obedience to their s^jiritual rather
tlian to their temporal masters, and who refused lo
exercise at lay bidding tliose functions which they
were bound to consider sacrilegious when performed in
defiance of the power which could alone impart citlicr
value to tlie ordinances themselves tn* the i)rivilegc of
celebrating them to their ministers.
T
271 rULMEN STOPPED AT THE FllONTlER.
The sympathies of every enlightened lover of ninn-
kind, and of every pions worshipper of God's eternal
laws, must of course be strongly enlisted on the side
of Venice in this struggle with the hydra-headed evil
of sacerdotal tyranny. Their victory Avas the victory
of humanity, and their foes in the fight our foes — the
most deadly and dangerous foes to all the best and
highest interests of the human race that the history of
the world has ever known. It was of vital importance
to Venice that priests should be found to carry on as
usual the services of the Church ; and those ecclesi-
astics who, for patriotism's sake or pelf's sake, con-
sented to go through the semblance of celebrations
which (if they believed in their Church at all) they
must have believed to be vain, meaningless, and
sacrilegious mummeries, enabled the government to
sustain an opposition to Eome and its powers that
would without such aid have been impossible. The
number of priests who refused submission to the
government was small, and consisted chiefly of a few
dignitaries, mendicant friars, Theatines and Jesuits.
The latter body were the most important recalcitrants,
and were found as usual faithful to the cause of theo-
cratic tyranny.
But all these considerations must not make us unjust
or blind. AVe must not fail to see, or shrink from
avowing, that the priests who obeyed the government
did wrong, and laid themselves open to the accusation
of faithlessness to obligations which they would hardly
have disregaixled had they had any real belief in the
doctrines they professed to hold, while the recusants
consistently acted according to the clear duty of
faithful priests and oath-observing men. With mo-
tives of course we cannot meddle. There was abun-
POSITION OF VENETIAN PRIESTS. 27.'>
dant room for unworthy motive in eitliercase. But we
have no right to assume that either those who oheved
or those who resisted the government were actuated
by such. We are bound to consider the resisting
priests to have acted, conscientiously. They did right,
let what would come of it ; while the conforming
priests (though, taking all things into consideration, it
would be very wrong to say that thoy did not act con-
scientiously) yet undoubtedly did ill, that good might
come of it.
What then, it may be asked, is every man who has
assumed the obligations of a Catliolic priest hopelessly
vowed to enmity to his kind ? Must all enlightenment
come to him too late ? Are vows which pledge him to
fight against God's eternal laws to be held indelibly
binding on his changed conscience ? Assuredly not.
No human being can impose, and no human being
accept, restraints which violate the indefeasible and
anterior right of every man's conscience to his fealty.
If I swear that I will to-morrow think such a line of
conduct to be right or wrong, my oatli is absurd, im-
possible, and void of force as of sense. But then tlie
emancipation claimed on these grounds must be
lionestly based on them. And being so based, it would
necessarily have carried a Venetian seventeenth cen-
tury priest to other issues than consenting to tak(^ in
the populace by dispensing to them semblances of
sacraments which cither never had any viitnc in them,
or, if tlicy had, had been deprived of it by the I'upal
power. It would have carried him iu some shape <»r
other to martyrdom ; and moreover, had the great n\\\-
jority of the conforming priests so cniaiicipatcd them-
selves, it is certain tliat tlie conditions of the Ilcpuhlic's
Inittle with Home would so have been rendered more,
T 2
;276 FUJ.MEN STOPrED AT THE FRONTIEIJ.
iuul not less, arduous. All wlilcli social dead-lock,
confusion, and misfortune was one of the natural and
inevitable growths gendered b}'- the baleful adultery of
Church with State.
Among the first to disobey the orders of the Senate
was the highest ecclesiastical dignitary in the Venetian
dominions, the Patriarch of Aquileia. On the 27th
April the Senate sent orders to the governor of Udine
to send his lordship to Venice, and entrust his spiritual
functions to some ecclesiastic well affected towards
the government. A similar step was on the same da}'
taken with regard to the Vicar of the Bishop of
Vicenza.
On the 8th of May the College issued orders to the
Venetian Patriarch's vicar, to all the rectors of parishes
throughout the territory, and to all superiors of monas-
teries, to continue in all respects as usual the perform-
ance of the mass and other parts of divine services, as
they should answer for it with their lives. They were
prohibited, under the same penalty, from quitting the
country. And if any orders were sent to them by
their religious superiors to the contrary, they were
commanded instantl}^ to communicate the fact to the
College, and to conceal it from all other persons.
The Senate writes on the same day to the authori-
ties at Bergamo, j^raising them for having arrested the
cellarer of a certain monastery, and for their attempts
to arrest the abbot for disobedience to the orders
respecting placarding papal briefs.
On the 12th of jNla}- they sent a messenger to the
Capuchins and Theatines, who were hesitating between
(jbedience and resistance, forbidding them to quit the
city on pain of their lives, and commanding them to
continue to perform the accustomed services with the
BISHOr OF BKESCIA. 277
doors of their churches open as usual. On the same
day letters were sent in haste to the governor of
Brescia requiring him to send messengers after the
bishop of that city, whithersoever he might have be-
taken himself, to signify to him the extreme displea-
sure of the Senate at his having absented himself
from his see at such a moment, and make known to
him tlie firm determination of the government that in
his cathedral church no attention whatever be paid to
the Interdict. He was to be informed that in case of
contumacy all his goods and property would be irre-
missibly confiscated, as iccll as those of his father and
brothers. These relatives of the bishop were more-
over summoned to the presence of the Doge; and it
was intimated to them that everything they possessed
would be confiscated if they did not " so act as to
cause the bishop to observe all the commands of the
government." Already the Senate had resolved that
all tlie lay relatives of bishops should be sent for, and
that they should be told the country expected them to
take care that their reverend sons, brothers, or cousins
should show themselves obedient citizens, — a curious
instance of the old Italian notion of the soUdarity
arising from family ties ! — a notion constantly acted
on in all the medieval feuds and qmxrrels, and still
traceable in many passages of Italian jurisprudence
and social habits.
On the 15th of May, we find the Senate resolving
that the Tlioatinos and Capuchins, linving infornicd
the government tiiat the orders received by thoni from
Ivonie make it inqios.sible for them to do otherwise tlian
observe the Interdict, they be immediately expelled
horn the territory of the liepublic ; care being taken
by the College that their churches be suppli<;d witli
27S FULMEN STOPPED AT THE PKONTlElt.
priests well affected towards the government. It will
be observed, that this determination of the Senate is
not consistent with a former decree, forbidding these
same monks to leave Venice on pain of their lives. We
must suppose, that the government finding them obsti-
nate in their refusal to disregard the Interdict, con-
sidered it far better to get rid of them than to make
martyrs of them.
But the most important of the non-conforming
priests were the Jesuits. On the 8th of May, the Doge
reported to the College that four Jesuits had waited on
him a little before vespers ; and had declared, that the
orders they had received not only from the Pope, but
from the general of their order, rendered it impossible
for them to celebrate the divine offices, as long as the
llepublic should remain imder Interdict. The Doge,
in reply, intimated to them that their only alternative
was obedience or departure ; that if they decided on
the latter, they must note well that they would never
be permitted to return ; nor would they be permitted
to remove so much as a stick from either their convent
or church. It did not at all suit the Jesuits to lose
their footing in so wealthy and important part of the
Roman Catholic world as the Venetian territories.
They strove to compound the matter by ofl'ering, if
they were allowed to remain, to preach and confess as
usual, abstaining only from celebrating mass. Of
course, no such proposal could be listened to. And
the Jesuits Avere accompanied to the frontier, leaving
the city in the night for the avoidance of any possible
tumult or disturbance. No time had been lost in
sending officers to their convent, immediately it was
settled that they were to go, to prevent the removal of
any property from thence. But in this respect, those
DEPARTURE OF THE JESUITS. 379
dexterous and holy fathers contrived, it would seem, to
outwit the government. For among the motives
assigned for their perpetual banishment in the formal
decree of the Senate, passed to that effect on the 14th
of June,* it is rehearsed, that the company had, " by
strange wa3'S 'and means, and despite the express
orders of the Senate, hidden and carried away the
greater part of the articles appertaining to divine
service, which in very great quantity and of great price
and value, have been at divers times offered to their
church by devout persons, all such substance having
been squeezed out of the life-blood f of our noble
citizens and subjects." I The means by which the
Jesuits appear to have succeeded in carrying off
the valuable property in their church, despite the
measures taken by the government to prevent them,
furnish an indication of the real feelings and sym-
pathies of Spain in the matter, and a measure of the
sincerity of the friendly assurances of her ainbassador.
The circumstances, as they stand recorded in a report
from Secretary Scaramelli to the§ Senate, are worth
mentioning.
The College had requested the chiefs of " the Ten "
to send one of their officers to escort the fathers in
boats furnished by the government as far as the
frontiers of the territory of Ferrara by llic route of
Chioggia. No time was lost in doing this. But when
the officer wont to the convent in the evening to
arrange witli tlic reverences their departure in tbo
course of the niglit, he found at the quay of tlio
convent the gondola of the Spanish ambassad(jr, with
• Cornet, Op. cit. p. 105. t "(-'nvate (Inlle viKccrc."
* For the entire decree banishing the Jesuits, »tc Note 6, at entl.
§ Comet, Op. cit, p. 279.
2S0 FUL.MEN .STOPPED AT THE Fl}OI>'TlEPi.
seven or eight white chests in it, " well corded and iu'
good order, ench of them not quite two Lraccia (about
four feet) square in size." The ofiicer at once per-
ceived that tlie alert fathers had stolen a march on
him. But as he had no orders applicable to such a
case, and as it was a delicate matter to meddle with an
ambassador's gondola, he did not venture to say a
word or interfere in any way. It was further reported
to the Senate that the Nuncio had on the previous day
gone iu his gondola to the Jesuit Convent, and without
alighting, had caused two of the fathers to get into the
gondola with him, where, " with the curtains let down,'"
they had remained in conference two entire hours.
Further, the Senate received information that in the
night, shortly after this visit, the neighbours had seen
within the monastery a large lire of papers and
writings.
Signor Bianchi-Giovini* says that the subsequently
passed formal decree for the expulsion of the Jesuits,
was motived on the fact, that among the papers, which
they had not time to burn in the hurry of their depar-
ture, were found several registers of the confessions of
their penitents regularly kept by them, " as a means
of penetrating into the secrets of families, and those
of the State." And the reports furnished by them
to the Pope respecting the hopes to be derived from
the consciences of many of the senators, based
upon the knowledge acquired in the confessional,
show that it -svas probably enough their habit to keep
such registers. But it is incorrect to say that the
decree for tlieir expulsion adduces this among the
motives of the step.
* Vita di Sarpi, vol. i. p. 237.
THE JESUITS CARRY OFF THEIR WEALTH. :2S1
So the Jesuits went forth canying their seven or
eight great chests of spoils with them, and shaking the
dust off their shoos against Venice, just ahout ten
years after they liad hoen turned out of France in like
manner.
CHAPTER IV
The Nuncio at Venice on Ascension-day. — Another Nuncio on tlie same
day at Prague. — The Nuncio quits Venice. — The Venetian ambassador
quits Rome. — Interview between the Venetian ambassador and King
James ui London. — English ideas of a new Council. — Strange occur-
rence at Vicenza. — Attempts of the Pope to stir up disturbances in
the Venetian states. — Measures of the Senate for meeting these. —
Military position of the two parties. — Policy of France. — Of England.
— A second interview between James and the Venetian ambassador. —
Sir Henry Wotton before the College. — Henry IV. 's remarks on
King James's offers to Venice. — The Pope shows signs of willingness
to come to terms. — All hope of this destroyed for the time being by
the Spanish Kiug's letter to the Pope.
To our modern ideas of diplomatic etiquette, it
seems strange that after so decided a breach had taken
place between the two states, the Nuncio of the Pope
should still linger in Venice, and the ambassador of
the Republic continue at Rome. We have seen, how-
ever, that the former at least had still business to
transact in Venice. Nor did his reverence at all seek
to hide himself in privac5\ On Ascension-day, on
occasion of the great gala festival, Avhen the Doge
goes in state to celebrate the often-described ceremony
of his symbolic marriage with tlie Adriatic, to the
great surprise of every one, the Nuncio appeared in his
place among the other ambassadors in the grand pro-
cession. His presence on such an occasion, which was
assuredly a diplomatic mistake, was probably a mere
2^U2sCIO AT PllAGUE. :2S3
ebullition of priestly insolence. And curiouslj' enough,
at the same day and hour, in a distant city, anotlier
Nuncio was indulging himself in the same feeling by
conduct precisely the reverse of that of the Venetian
Nuncio.
The Cavalier Francesco Soranzo writes to the
Senate from Prague, where lie was residing as auibas-
sador for the Kepublic to the Emperor, that on that
same Ascension-day festival, the Tuscan ambassador
came to him as a messenger from the Nuncio, with an
intimation, that he could not take part in the divine
services, processions, &c., at which it was usual for all
the foreign ministers to be present. The Venetian
replied that be had no orders to receive from the
Nuncio, and should not abstain unless commanded to
do so by the Emperor. To this the Nuncio replied by
means of the same messenger, that if Soranzo came
to the church, he, the Nuncio, should forthwith leave
it ; that all tlie other ambassadors would leave it with
him, and that he would have the church shut, and then
make a public prohibition to the Venetian ambassador
to enter any church wliatsoever. Soranzo forthwith
hurried to the Imperial ministers. They expressed
their sorrow for the circumstance ; but said that it
would be wisest to avoid giving cause for scandal —
(the old but never worn-out pretext for permitting a
wrong !) — and begged him to abstain. As for tlie
Emperor himself, they told him that liis Mnjesty " did
not bother liimsclf about Church matters." So, says
the ambassador, not to give offence to the Emperor,
" I resolved to stay at home ; and taking as a jjrctext
the infirmities, from wliich in reality I suffer only too
truly, I took* pliysic."
♦ "Mi Hon postj in purg.i."
2SJ. rULMEN STOPPED AT THE FKONTIEIJ.
So the honour of Venice was in some sort saved
b}^ this evasion. But it was hard, and very charac-
teristic of the unreasoning insolence of apostolic
statesmen, that while at ^"enioe the Pope's representa-
tive thrust liimself publicly into the company of
Venetians, where he was not wanted; at Prague
another Papal representative could not meet a Vene-
tian in the same church.
A very few days after this festival, however, the
Nuncio came to the College, and said, that matters
were now come to such a pass, that he did not see that
his presence could be of any further use in Venice ;
and so took his leave. Thereupon the Senate wrote
to their ambassadors, directing them to quit Rome,
after having with all respect kissed the feet of His
Holiness. It was intimated, however, to the Venetian,
that if he wished audience of the Pope he must go to
him privately. This the ambassador refused to do,
thinking that he should compromise the dignity of the
Ptepublic if he consented. Paul, excessively indignant,
thereupon caused it to be made known to all those
prelates, who, accoi'ding to usage and etiquette at
Eome, would have escorted the dcpai'ting ambassador
out of the cit}', that as they valued his displeasure
they must abstain from doing so ; a little bit of spite
and discourtesy, which, as the Senate remark in the
despatches, sent to give an account of these matters to
the foreign courts, they felt the more, as they had
observed all courtesy and due ceremony in taking leave
of the Nuncio.
On the same 14th of June on wliich the decree for
the expulsion of the Jesuits is dated, the Senate
received letters from their ambassador at the Court of
James I., in which he gives a long account of^an inter-
JAMES I. 2^5
view he had had with that monarch. James tokl him
that he felt strongly in favour of the Republic ; for
that the inculpated laws were most just, holy, and ne-
cessary. And not only, says the ambassador, did
he approve and commend them, but added, " well
would it be for the world if every sovereign would
open his eyes, and do likewise ; but one holds his
jieace, because the Pope allows him to do as he will in
other matters ; another gives no thought to the sub-
ject; and a third dares not resist. The jealousies
of princes," said James, "and not the appointment of
Christ, have made the Papacy thus great and insolent.
The Pope," continued our British Solomon, "considers
me and my crown to be the most abominable things in
the world. And I, for my part, flatter myself, that I
am moi'e a servant of God than he is. I protest to
his Sei'cnity the Doge, and to all the world, that I
have no wish more at heart, than to see the Church of
God, disfigured as it is by the abuses of the Court of
Pome, reformed. There is no subject, which occupies
my thoughts so much, as the convocation of a council,
which shall be a truly legitimate one. I have spoken
on the subject with the King of France, witli whom I
am on excellent terms ; and who knows but that it
may be God's will to make the present troubles of the
] Republic a means of opening the way to this most
legitimate desire ? But the Popes won't hear of any-
thing of the kind ; because it suits them to keep the
world in sucli blindness, that it is small wondfir if
Christianity goes to ruin, and sovereigns arc perpetu-
ally tormented by the int()loral)le pretensions of liomc.
Pope Clement Yllf. caused instances to be nnidc to
me, urging my return to tlie Churcli of Ronu\ T
answered him, that if our disagreements could be
28G FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
decidod hy n gonorul and legitimately convoked
council, I should be perfectly ready to obey whatso-
ever such council might decree. Do j'^ou know what
he replied to me ? Mark the zeal of Christ's Vicar.
* Tell the King of England,' he said, ' not to speak
of u council ; for I won't hear of it. And if he won't
be reconciled to the Church by other means than that,
let him remain as he-is.' What do you think of that?
And is not such an answer a proof that they care only
for their own interests and passions ? And such is
their conduct at all times. For their own pretensions
are so exorbitant, and the flattery of those, who, for
their own ends of ambition or avarice worship them
with execrable adulation, is so gross, that the Pope is
like enough to deem himself greater than He whose
Vicar on earth, and Minister, he pretends to be. Nor
do I w^onder at the present Pope's not having listened
to reason in your quarrel with him ; for Popes are
wont to deem their own will the onl}' reason."
" And here," says the ambassador, "his Majesty
entered into an exceedingly long discourse against the
usurpation of supreme power b}' the Pontiffs." We
can well imagine our British Solomon's diffuse elo-
quence upon this theme. James dearl}' loved an
opportunity of displaying his theological learning, and
the poor ambassador no doubt had enough of it. He
told me, adds the Venetian, that he studied the works
of Bellarmine every day, and found him full of falsi-
fications of texts and false citations from the Fathers ;
" by means of which he sells for a red hat, not only
spiritual, but temporal supremac}' to his Papal idol."
It would be quite in keeping with the well known
character of " gentle Jamie," if all this " exceedingly
long discourse," which defied even the industrious
PEOSrECT OF A COUNCIL. 287
reporting IiuLits of ;i Venetian ambassador to rcconl it
at length, was due to iiotliing else save his Majesty's
great pleasure in hearing himself talk, especially on
such subjects. But it would be interesting to know,
whether any idea had really been conceived in England
of making the quarrel between Venice and the Holy
See lead to the convocation of a new council and a real
reformation of tlie Church ; and whether the British
Solomon spoke the truth, when ho said that he had
opened the subject to the King of France. A vcr}-
slight amount of acquaintance witli the condition of
the Catholic world, the state of men's minds, and above
all the interests and views of the sovereigns of southern
Europe, would have sufficed to convince the most Quix-
otic believer in Church reformability, that he might as
well have expected a council of angels to descend from
the skies to the halls of the Vatican, as hope the con-
vocation of such a council as James professed to expect.
It seems difficult to believe that Henry IV. shoidd
not have been perfectly aware of this ; and moro
difficult still to suppose, that AVotton and Bedell should
not have been quite competent to assure his Britisli
Mfijosty of the utter futility of any such hopes.
But a curious circumstance occurred at Vicenza
about the end of June, which would seem to indicate
that Bomchodij was endeavouring to improve the Vene-
tian misunderstanding witli IIduh' Into a complete
schism. And in Ihe extreme difliculty of forming any
satisfactory theory as to the authors of th(! attempl.
bearing in mind also flic tone of all our ambassador's
communications with the government, calculated nil
along to excite and encourage Venice in pushing Ikt
resistance against Komo to the utmost, the idea sug-
gests itself how far it is possible that the invitation to
288 rULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
schism ill question may have hud an English origin.
Tlie facts were these : Vicenza one morning, near the
latter end of June, was found placarded with a printed
paper, urging the Venetians to emancipate themselves
altogether from the intolerahle yoke of priestl}' t^^ranny.
The governors of the city immediatel}' communicated
the fact to the Senate, which instantly gave the strict-
est orders for the removal of all such papers, and for
the most vigilant diligence for the prevention of the
clandestine circulation of any such. The Venetian
government had from the first heen anxious to assert
the orthodox Catholicism of its principles and senti-
ments. They were especially desirous of maintaining
and proving in the face of Europe, that they were
wrongfully excommunicated, and on no real spiritual
grounds; — that they were and always hoped to be good
Catholics, and respectful sons of their ghostly father
the Roman Pontiff. The Senate was accordingly pro-
portionably annoyed at the publication of the paper in
question. They entrusted the largest inquisitionary
powers to the magistrates at Vicenza for the discovery
of the person or persons who had circulated or affixed
the placards ; they ordered that the greatest exertions
should be used to prevent the hand-to-hand circulation
of any such ; and they offered a reward of five hundred
ducats, together with a promise of complete secresy,
and the privilege of liberating a convict from any one
of the state prisons, to such as would give information
as to the printer of the obnoxious paper. But it was
all in vain ; neither the author, printer, nor placarder
of the document was ever discovered. And this fact also
would go far to prove, that the paper was not printed
in any Venetian city. The authors of it, however,
must have had ample means of assuring tliemselves
INTRIGUES OF EOME. 2 89
that Venice bad not the remotest intention of breaking
its connection with the Church of Eome.
Meanwhile the Pope was endeavouring in every pos-
sible way to make war on the Republic, by exciting
disaffection, agitation, and tumults in the minds of its
subjects. This has in all ages been Rome's favourite
means of offence ; and she is an adept in all the arts
required for its practice. But the vigilance of the
senators was equal to the perseverance and subtlety of
their enemy. We have a constant stream of letters to
the governors of the different cities, exhorting them to
be watchful ; and directing their attention now to one,
and next day to some other device of the enemy. Now
it is a barefoot friar, who is coming, as the Senate
have been secretly informed, to establish himself at
Mantua, close on the Venetian frontiers, armed with
secret powers from the Pope, giving him authority over
all the Venetian bishops. By means of the Senate's
influence with the Duke of Mantua, the friar is refused
admittance to that city. But he is known to be hover-
ing somewhere on the frontiers, it is supposed in the
neighbourhood of Brescia. And the governor of that
city is ordered to an-est him if jjossible. Then the
magistrates at Verona are cautioned to be on the alert
to prevent communications from this agent from being
introduced by friars in lay disguise. Another day
orders are given to hunt out of the country all friars,
wlio have deserted their convents under pretext of the
Interdict, and are roaming about and striving to
spread disaffection and alarm among the people.*
This sort of warfare, together with insults studiously
shown to the Venetian residents at the different courts,
• Cornet, Op. cit. p. 1 1 3.
ii90 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE PllONTIEll.
espocinlly that of Spain, where the ambassador from
the Republic was forbidden to attend the Chapel Iloyal,
(though as he declares in his letters to the Senate, the
King, in order to blunt the point of the insult, abstained
himself from attending service in public ;) — this petty-
sort of warfare was all that Rome was able to indulge
in. The descriptions on record of the Papal forces of
that time are curiously like those we are reading every
day of the Apostolic army of the present Pontiff,
" mercenaries gathered together anyhow from all sorts
of sources," constantly deserting, and more formidable
to the inhabitants of the state that hired them, than
to any enemy in the field. The Republic was on the
other hand well provided with good troops ; in great
part also foreign legions. But these were led by their
own generals, who had entered into long contracts of
military service with Venice, in some cases passing on
from father to son for more than one generation. The
general current of lay opinion on the merits of the
question at issue was indicated also by the numerous
offers of service and assistance the Senate received
from almost all parts of Europe. Eome, therefore,
was compelled to " let I dare not wait upon I would."
France and Spain were neither of them desirous of
soma to war, but both wished to have the credit and
the influence that would accrue to the mediator in the
quarrel. It was quite understood, however, that if
hostilities should be commenced, his " Most Catholic "
majesty would be found on the side of Rome, while the
" Most Christian " King would take part with Venice.
But it is very evident that, for many reasons, it would
have ill suited the recently reconciled and absolved
heretic Henry IV., with the dangerous religious divi-
sions of his kingdom just beginning to heal, to enter
POLICY OF FRA^'CE. 291
anew into hostilities with the Holy Father. France
was, therefore, from everj^ motive, eager to bring about
a reconciliation. Her promises of support in case of
the worst were cordial ; but all conditional on Venice
being first attacked, or on her having done her utmost
nnavailingly to make up the quarrel. Letters came on
the 4th of July from the Venetian resident in France,
informing the Senate that the King has assured *' a
person, from whom he does not conceal his thoughts,"
that if the Pope, encouraged by Spain, should attack
the Republic, his Mnjesty will not fail to assist her.
On the 22nd of the same month, the ambassador of
France at Venice tells the Senate, that if they will
*' open the way for his master to bring about a recon-
ciliation," his Majest}' promises, in case of failure, to
come to the assistance of the Republic with all his
forces, and with the blood of all the French noblesse.
It is not without some surprise that we find
throughout all these multiplied negotiations, that the
only thoroughly warlike proposals and promises come
from England with our British Solomon at its head.
Sir Henry Wotton, on the 21st of Jul}', " oflers the
forces of his sovereign ; " and far from coupling the
promise with any such condition as was attached to the
offer of France, proposes an off"ensive league. Again,
on the 10th of August, the Venetian resident in Jjondou
wiites an account of an interview he liad with Jnincs.
His Miijesty praised much the constancy and unaniniity
of the Senate, and anticipated for tliem a triumphant
issue from the contest with Rome. " And as for the
Spjiniards," continued James, " although I lauL'li at
llieir popi:-h braggadocia,* since all the world knows
• " Papolatc."
o 2
'192 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
the condition they are in, and people who mean action
are not so fond of talking, it matters little ; for if they
ai'e on one side, AVe shall he on the other." He goes
on to protest his warm regard for Venice at all times,
especially hecause she had renewed with him the inter-
course so long hroken off with England under his prede-
cessors ; * and his strong sympathy with her in her
present quarrel. " Assure, therefore, the Kepublic, that
I will assist it with all my heart, and with all the power
I can command on this occasion; and I only regret that
I am so far off. But you well remarked to me the other
day, that when hearts are neighbours, monarchs can
easil}'^ find means to manage the rest. I have written
to my ambassador, ordering him to make the same
promises in my name."
On the 2nd of October, Sir Henry Wotton came to
the meeting of the College, and spoke at considerable
length. He had communicated, he said, to all the
ministers of the other powers the declaration of the
Iving his master, that he would assist the Republic in
any case, " your Serene Highness having given me
permission to do so. I will now," he continued, " speak
ray own thoughts on the subject." He can discover,
he says, only four possible modes of issue from the
jn-esent position : 1st, submission ; 2nd, the death of
Paul ; 8rd, arbitrement by other princes ; 4th, war.
The first he presumes the Senate has no thoughts
of; the second is hardly to be looked for; as for
the third, no prince could be found, even including
his royal master, sufficiently free from bias in such
a matter. Possibly the question might be referred
to two arbiters ; in which case, he thinks, he may take
* There were no Venetian ambassadors in England under the reigns of
Mary and Elizabeth.
wotton's speech. 293
it for granted that the Republic would not prefer any
sovereign to his master, who had been the first to
declare himself in favour of Venice ; while Rome would
probably select the King of Spain. The notion of as-
sembling a council might also be entertained ; but all
his knowledge of history led him to think, that what
was practised by King Louis in 1511 (the assembling
of a schismatic council in Pisa), could not with ad-
vantage be attempted now. There was then discord
between the Pope and many of the Cardinals, not now
to be hoped for. For any good to come of such a
scheme more elements of confusion than now exist in
Europe would be necessary. " The fourth issue, then,
remains ; and it may be objected that 1 am proposing
a means neither good in itself, nor leading to good.
To this I answer, in the words of the great historian,
' Idcirco hclla faciendasiint at in pace vicamus,' — wars
must be engaged in, to the end that we may live in
])eace." He proceeds to develope his reasons for pre-
ferring this last course, which might bo ]Mit in exe-
cution in two ways ; either by immediate invasion, or
by making an offensive league with other powers. The
fust plan would liave been good a montli or two ago.
But the Venetians, though wise and prudent, have
been sadly dilatory ; and Sir Henry quotes Tbucydidcs
to tlicm in rcproacliing them on this head. Still it
would never do to go on in the present condition, the
expense of remaining armed consuming the forces of
the state like a hectic fever. And there was great
danger that, if any such visitation as i)cstik'nce or
scarcity (which Clod forliid !) should occur, the people
would immediately imagine that it was a consequence
of the excommunication, and the results might be most
disastrous. Wliat he recommended, therefore, was an
294 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FEONTIEU.
offensive league with Great Britain, Denmark, the
Princes of Germany, tlie States-General, the Swiss and
Grisons, and his Most Clnistian Majesty. As for all,
except the last, their ready adherence was certain.
And although the King of France has not yet declared
himself, he could not doubt that he would be ready to
join the league, as it is evidently his interest to do so ;
and it is to be remembered that he stands deprived by
the effects of an excommunication of his kingdom of
Navarre ; that he expressly reserved his rights to that
crown at the last peace ; and that it is impossible he
can see with approbation that sovereigns may be de-
prived of their rights by such means. He concludes
by urging the senators to give him an answer declara-
tor}"- of their intentions.
The Doge replied with many thanks for England's
good will and acknowledgments of the important ad-
vantages which had accrued to the cause of the Ee-
public from the British king's declaration in its favour.
But it was not in his power to give him any further
answer for the present.
It is amusing to find a commentary on all this in
the following communication from the Venetian am-
bassador at the Court of France to the Senate. He
had signified to his Most Christian Majesty, he says,
the offers made to the Republic by the King of Eng-
land. Whereupon the King had said that he was glad
to hear anything that might be of advantage to the
llepublic ; "but that, as to this matter, he must tell
them that no great importance was to be attached to
the words of the King of England, as he had himself
found in the affairs of Flanders and on other occasions.
His Majesty of England is by nature easy in promising
and slow in performing, especially in matters in which
FAILURE OF THE INTERDICT. 295
he perceives that the Spaniards have an interest, of
wliom he, the King of Enghmd, lives in great fear."
He should be very happ}-, adds Henr)' IV., to find
the King of England different from his usual habits
upon this occasion ; but he, for his part, did not think
that the Republic would get an}' important service
from England. He observed further tliat if Venice
wished to avail herself of ships belonging to English
subjects, she might have as many as she wished with-
out the King having anything to say to it. Finally,
he urged the senators to do everj'thing in their power
to bring their difierences to an amicable arrangement,
bearing in mind all the evils which war brings in its
train, and which "had made his beard white before
liis time."
The British Solomon did not appreciate so feelingly
the toils of war !
Meanwhile the failure of the Interdict in its object
of throwing the Venetian dominions into confusion,
the disregard of its thunders by the great majority of
Venetian priests, the firm attitude of the Senate, the
almost universal disapprobati<:)n of Christendom, had
brought the Pope to wish that he liad been less hasty
in launching tlie Church's hrutum fidmen. Rome had
sulfercd not a little in the encounter of learned pens,
which had been going busily on, while couriers had
])Con running to and fro, and ambassadors had been
(lisi)uting about places in processions and chupcls ;
and Paul began to give signs of a, willingness to make
peace if some means of backing out of the umtter not
too humiliating to his ))ride could bo discovered. 'I'll.'
French statesmen and ambassadors were earnestly
striving to find such means ; and there began to be a
prospect of accommodating matters, when suddenly.
290 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
about tlic middle of September, Pliilip III. wrote a
letter to the Pope in a very ditl'ercnt tone from the
cautious half promises which Spain had previously
made to him, which had the disastrous effect of
neutralising all the salutary snubbing and disappoint-
ment he had suffered, encouraging him to insist as
arrogantly as ever on his original demands, and, in
short, rendering Paul once more himself again.
This important and mischievous letter runs as fol-
lows. The Italian translation from the original
Spanish, from which the following translation into
English has been made, is stated to be most exact,
and was sent from Pome by the Venetian Cardinal
Delfino to his nephew, Alessandro Contarini, at
Venice.*
" Most Holy Father, — It is a matter of great anxiet}^
to me that the Venetian affiiirs have come to such a
point as to have engaged the honour of your Holiness
and of the Apostolic See. It is impossible for me,
therefore, as an obedient son, to abstain from giving
all the aid I can with my person and my resources for
the service and defence of j'our Holiness and of the
Apostolic See. And I have said as much to the am-
bassador whom the Venetian government maintains at
this Court, in order that he may give the Senate infor-
mation to that effect. I liave likewise caused letters
to be written to those Italian potentates who are my
dependants to let them know my will ; and I have
ordered the Viceroy + and Governors I of Italy to hold
themselves read}'- to be of service to your Holiness and
the Apostolic See, by land or by sea, according as they
* Cornet, Op. cit. p. 285, The Italian version will be found in Note 7,
at end of Volume. t Of Naples.
* Of Milan and the Spanish possessions on the coast of Tuscany.
KING OF Spain's letter. '2d7
may receive notice. And if my personal presence
should be necessary, I will assist your Ploliuess with
that also in every needful conjuncture."
Less than this would have sufficed to re-awaken all
Paul's hopes and schemes of universal sacerdotal
supremacy. All thought of coming to terms with
Venice, or of accepting anything less than the
amount in full of his demands, and this humbly ten-
dered in the attitude of chastised children imploring a
justly otfended father's clemenc}', was thrown to the
winds. All the results which France seemed to be on
tlie point of reaping from the efforts of her diplomacy
were lost. Venice was as firm as ever in her determi-
nation to resist; and the Spanish monarch's letter
marks the commencement of a fresh phase in the
struggle.
CHAPTEE V.
The Pope deceiverl in bis hopes of assistance from Spain. — His present
position. — Much clainacio had been inflicted on the Church. — The
literature of the Intevdiit. — Tlie cen.soriship at Venice. — Cliaracter and
scope of the writings on the side of the Church. — Bellarmine. —
Various proposals for arranging the differences. — Haw was the Inter-
dict to be taken off? — Spanish and French [lolitics — Di Castro sent by
Spain to Venice. — Ilis mission fails. — Jealousies between the French
and Spanish ambassadors. — Cardinal Joyeuse sent to Venice.
Notwithstanding the clear and sti'ong assurances
contained in Philip III.'s letter, Spain had no inten-
tion of going to war in the Pope's cause. In all pro-
bability the letter was written for no other purpose
than to bring about exactly that result which it did in
fact produce, — a prolongation of the quarrel and the
negotiations. Spain, and especially the Duke of Lerma
at Milan, were well pleased that the ruinous expenses
to which Venice was subjected by the necessity of
keeping up her army, should last as long as possible.
She was desirous also of causing the failure of those
negotiations which France was engaged in perfecting.
She intended that the differences should be eventually
made up ; but she was very desirous that the recon-
ciliation sliould be her work, and that it should be as
favourable to the Pope and as damaging to the prin-
ciples of civil liberty as might be, without too much
compromising the power of an absolute sovereign to
do what he would with his own. As to war, the real
FALSE HOPES FROM SPAIN. 209
intentions of France and Spain were no doubt pretty
nmch the same. Neither wished for war; but each
was prepared to engage in it if the other began it.
Had France marched troops into Ital}' in support of
Venice, Spain would at once have gone to the aid of
the Pope ; and if Philip had moved a step in perform-
ance of his large promises to the Pontiff, France would
have immediately taken part with the Venetians. But
France declared openly enough that such was her
policy and her intention ; while Spain wished to hold
out the hope and the threat, that she meditated active
hostilities in the Pope's support.
But even the King of Spain's mischievous letter did
not put back things where they had been at the
moment of launching the Interdict. Despite the Most
Catholic monarch's promises, Paul's mind soon relapsed
into a ver}' different mood, and his hopes fell back to a
considerably lower level than that at which they had
once stood. The lesson he had received, had been too
severe a one for even his obstinate and narrow mind
to mistake the gravity and significance of it. lie
would still have been glad to have been well out of the
quarrel; tolerably well out of it. But it was a great
point with him, — that more or less well. It had come
to be a matter of higgling; and Philip's letter at all
events induced him to raise his terms, and his voice,
lie liad become aware by that time that his unlucky
raid against the civil liberties of Venice had caused
mischief to the Church, which, if not irreparable, it
Would take long years to repair. The Church had lost
]>rcf(iifjc, a loss of a very fatal kind to an cstublislinient
supported by little else. She had uttered her curse,
and no fire from heaven liad followed. Not only that
Interdict, but all interdicts for evermore were blown
300 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
upon and discredited. Paul ought to have known
that that favourite old weapon of tlie Church, which
had done such good service in its da}', was in his time
sadly worn and weakened. Hung up in terrorcm, and
judiciously pointed to, it might have stood the Church
in some stead yet ; but he snatched it for use, and it
broke in his hand. The Church not onl}' could do no
more good with interdicts, but had shown all the world
that the old instrument was broken and harmless.
Infinite mischief had been done, too, by the vast
quantity of writing called forth by the quarrel. Rome
strove in all ways to defend herself against the pole-
mical swarm of hornets, which the tin-kettle beating of
her excommunication had called about her ears. She
tried the orthodox old way of cursing the authors, and
burning the books; but it was of no use. She con-
descended in her trouble to the dangerous new way of
answering them ; and that made the matter much
worse. Sarpi's deadly pen was indefatigably active ;
and he was supported by a legion of writers in almost
all countries and all languages, and of all degrees of
merit. " Letters, dialogues, prose, verse, serious argu-
mentation, and burlesque ridicule, in Italian, in Latin,
in French, in Spanish, in German, were printed, trans-
lated, passed from hand to hand, read and forgotten."*
Many however were widely reatl, and were not for-
gotten ; many were recommended to universal attention
by that most powerful and eflicacious of all possible
kinds of advertisement, a solemn anathematising and
burning by the hands of the hangman at Home. Many,
even without such aid, deserved and received the
serious attention from Europe which such names as
* Bianchi Giovini, Vita di Sarpi, vol. i. p. 262.
LITEUATUKE OF THE INTERDICT. 301
Menoccliio at Milan, Brancadore at Turin, the jurists
Lescliassier, Servin, and Pithon at Paris, the Sorbon-
nist Richer, the learned Casaubon, Harnisch of Alber-
stadt, and others, were sure to command. But by far
the most powerful and misphievous to Pome of all
these writers was the terrible friar himself. From his
jjen came (although it was published in the names of a
commission of writers appointed by the government)
that famous " Treatise on the Interdict," which became
the model and store-house of all future writers on the
subject.
Venice indeed was emban-assed by the multitude of
her literary defenders, and the zeal beyond discretion
of some of them. The Inquisition had been esta-
blished there, though with very limited powers, com-
pared with those it exercised in other states. One of
its functions had been the censorship of the press ; of
course Romish inquisitors were not the men, who, under
the present circumstances, could be entrusted with
that office in Venice, and all power of meddling in such
matters was speedily taken from them ; but Venice
was very far from having risen to the idea of venturing
on an unshackled jjress, and a free expression and
interchange of thought. No state in the world would
at that time have dreamed of such a rrf/imc being
tolera];le or possible ; so Venice, when the censorship
was taken out of the hands of the inquisitors, appointcid
a commission, of which Sarpi was the liead, to under-
take the duty ; and it was not a light one. Many of
those who drew pen in support of tlu; ]{opul»lic, wont
too far in attacking the prerogative of }inn\e ; and wo
have seen how delicate a matter was the discovery of
the exact point to whidi oj)positi()n might go, without
transgressing the bounds of theological law. Many
302 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FRONTIER.
were openly heretical ; and this, as we have also seen,
Venice by no means wished. Many were scurrilous ;
and this, though the attacks of the writers in Rome's
interest abounded in the grossest scurrility, Venice was
determined to suppress. No endeavour at an analj'sis
of even the more important of these works is attempted
here, for the reasons partly stated in a former chapter.
"We have gone too far past them. Details of the cau-
tious strategy of assailants, who limited their hostility
to forcing the enemy to lower a flag or two from his
towers, can have but little interest for another genera-
tion eagerly bent on levelling the stronghold to tiie
ground.
The weight of the battle on the Papal side fell on
Bellarmine. He was almost the only writer of learning
and reputation among Rome's defenders. But the
most dangerous of the modes in which Rome availed
herself of the assistance of the press was after a quite
different kind. Swarms of pamphlets and loose sheets
were clandestinely sent across the Venetian frontiers,
the object of which was to excite alarm and spread
disaffection among the people. If Venice addressed
her arguments to the learned and educated, Rome
strove to be a match for her by playing on the super-
stitious terrors and passions of the ignorant. No
excess of immorality, however odious and abominable,
no attempt to sap the foundations of all social ties,
however dangerous and poisonous, did the Holy Apos-
tolic Church shrink from in her schemes to injure
her enemy. The people were assured that all their
marriages were null, and were exhorted to act as if
they were not binding. AVives were taught that all
obedience to, or communication with, excommunicated
husbands was damnable sin. Sons were exhorted to
AVRITEES ON THE SIDE OF EOME. 303
rebel against their parents. All civil contracts were
asserted to be null, and binding on no man ; all action
of government illegitimate. The stvle of most of these
defenders of the faith was on a par with their subject-
matter. Here is the opening sentence of one of them:
" Generation of Vipers ! Excommunicated hounds !
"What the devil has the most reverend company of
Jesus, the light of the world, done against you ! " *
Even Bellarmine, in his reply to Sarpi's treatise, allows
his rage to get the better of his saner judgment to
such a degree, as to term his adversary a forger, a
hypocrite, an ignoramus, a monster of malignity, a
flatterer, a Lutheran, and a Calvinist ! The judicial
body of the inquisitors at Rome were led by their
fury into the gross absurdity, in pronouncing sentence
on a tract by Giovanni Marsilio, of condemning and
prohibiting as erroneous, heretical, scandalous, and
offensive to pious ears, not only the work before them,
but all writings whatever which the author might
thereafter put forth.
In truth Home knew and felt tliat she was going to
the wall in tliis unlucky contest. It must be got out
of with as little saci'ifice of credit and reputation as
mi^ht be. It had come, as has been said, to be u
matter of higgling ; and consideration for the dignity
of the Church and "the Glory of God" peremptorily
required tliat the Pope should drive as hard a bargain
as i)ossible. The " greater" — or less — " glory of God "
in the matter, was found to depend on a variety of
small differences in the possible terms of tlic arrange-
ment to be come to.
For the Pope to have simply removed tlic Interdict
• Bianchi Giovini, Op. cit., vol. i. p. 25J. The trannlation is literal.
304 FULMEN STOrPED AT THE FRONTIER.
and so restored matters to their previous condition,
would have sacrificed the Glory of God altogether. On
the other hand, that greatest Glory of God which would
liave accrued froni the repeal of their laws by the
Venetians, and their humble supplication to be there-
upon re- admitted into the bosom of the Church, was
not to be hoped for. But there were many degrees of
Glory. The Venetians might not repeal the laws, but
might be induced to suspend the execution of them.
They might, in the first instance, and before the Pope
took any step, cancel that solemn protest they had
made, in which the Interdict was declared to be a
nullity. If they absolutely would not give up both the
ecclesiastical culprits in the state prisons, they might
give up one of them. If they could not be induced to
give up both or one to the Pope, they might perhaps
give them up to another sovereign, as a courtesy to
him, to be dealt with as he should think fit ; and he by
previous arrangement might promise to deliver them
over to the Holy See. If the Ptepublic could not
bring its proud temper to beseech the removal of the
Interdict, might the Senate not be induced to say to
some third party that they should be very glad if he
could induce the Pope to remove it ? And even when
things should be brought to such a point as that the
taking off of the Interdict should be decided on, how
Avas it to be taken off? This was a debateable and
difficult point. Pope Paul would have liked to
accompany the act with every possible ceremony, and
all the old dearly loved symbolic theatre play of
laying the rod on the suppliant penitent's shoulders,
and then receiving him within the sacred edifice.
Great glory to God would have redounded from such a
performance. He insisted that at least the act should
NEGOTIATIONS. 305
be accomplished with all due formalities of bulls and
parchment and wax, to be treasured up in Iloman
archive chambers as spoils and testimonies of victory.
But the Venetians would have none of all this. Had
thej" not declared that the Interdict was a nullity ?
How should a nullity be made the subject of forms, as
if it were a something. As they would make no con-
fession, so they wanted no absolution. The Pope must
not remove his Interdict, but act as if it had never
existed ! And how could an infallible vicegerent
accede to anything of the sort, for self and principal,
without fatall}' compromising both !
It will be seen, that there were here ample verge
and scope enough for the exercise of diplomatic
energies and ingenuity. These were the materials on
which the ambassadors, chie% those of France and
Spain, had to work, and on which they did labour
assiduously for the next seven months in innumerable
Colloquies, conferences, audiences, and despatches.
"When it is added, that throughout all this, France
laboured to ascertain what was the least the Pope would
accept, and Spain to find out what was the most
Venice could be got to give, the aspects of the matter
will be sufhcicntly intelligible without the necessity of
following the interminable windings and iterations of
the respective diplomatists.
Pope Paul gradually, during these months, acquired
the unwelcome conviction that the famous letter of
J'hilip III., which had led him into the error of re-
nssnming the high hopes and insolent tone with which
he had begun the contest, meant nothing ; that Spain
was neither willing nor able to enter into a war; and
that the only real object of her policy had been to hreak
oil the negotiations for reconciliation in uhich the French
300 FULMEN STOPPED AT THE FROKTIER.
diplomatists were engaged. Once again lie had, with
how great reluctance and bitterness need hardly be
said, to abate his demands, and make up his mind to
accept such terms as he could get. He still knew,
however, that Spain, though she would not fight for
him, would help him in any other way she could. He
was sure that the terms of an arrangement made by
her would be more in his favour than one reached by
any other means. As a last hope, therefore, he pre-
vailed on the Spanish court to send a new ambassador
extraordinary to Venice, to see what could be done ;
and Don Francesco di Castro arrived there on the
17th of November.
Tlie Senate received him with the most distinguished
honours ; and floods of complimentary eloquence were
exchanged between him and the Doge, sitting in " Pien'
Collegio." But the senators would not yield an inch ;
and we find the ambassador extraordinary complaining
towards the end of the year that he had been in Venice
forty-three days, hard at work on this negotiation, and
was not a step more advanced than he had been at the
time of his arrival.* He had tried hard to obtain from
the Venetians the suspension of the obnoxious laws,
assuring them that the Pope would ask for nothing
more. There seems to have been, as maybe imagined,
a mutual anxiety in the ambassadors of both the great
powers to spoil each other's game, as soon as there was
the slightest appearance that either of them was
making a step towards the end they both professed to
have in view. The French ambassador seems to have
thought that there was a possibility that the Senate
might accept this proposal of the suspension. There
* Cornet, Op. cit. p. 168.
DI CASTRO FAILS. 307
was, in truth, no danger of the kind ; but we find him
impressmg on the College, that if thej' should consent
to such a proposal nothing would be gained by it — the
Pope would not be content. Tiie French ambassador
at Rome, he said, had written to him that he had means
of being quite certain of this. He added, that Don
Francesco di Castro had, according to information
received from his colleague at Rome, written to the
Pope that he had obtained the consent of the Senate
to the suspension of the laws. Whether it were true
or not that he had written such a falsehood to the
Pope, the Frenchman knew well that nothing could
operate more effectively to prevent any successful
negotiation between him and the Senate than the mere
suspicion that he was playing such a game.
In any case, the mission of Di Castro was a failure.
Venice preferred in every way treating with France';
and the Pope perceived at last that, if he wished to
bring the matter to a termination, it was with France
that he must negotiate. Henry IV., or his advisers,
had deserved this success by the honesty and extreme
prudence with whicli they had treated the affau' from
the commencement. Their efforts to bring about a
reconciliation had been straightforward and genuine ;
and the ])rndence with which the French king liad
resisted all the efforts of the Venetians to induce him
openly to declare liimself ready to support them by
arms was consummate. He wished sincerely well to
tiieir cause, and was perfectly determined to figlit in
<lefence of it, if the worst came to tlie worst ; but he
saw that, if he once committed himself to sucli a decla-
ration as the Senate wished to obtain from liiin, liis
character for impartiality, and consequently his iiillu-
ence as a peacemaker, would be gone.
x2
30S FULAIEN STOPPED AT THE FKONTIEIl.
And now liad come the moment that he had been
waiting for. Panl had discovered that in trusting to
Spain he was leaning on a rotten reed ; his pride had
been sufficiently broken down b}- all that had occurred in
the course of the contest to make him see the absolute
necessity of bringing it to a close. The moderate
counsels which the French ambassador had been
inculcating for the last six months in Venice had not
been without effect ; Venice, though thoroughly resolute
to carry her point in substance, and not to be made to
seem to knock under in form, was anxious to make
peace, if it could be done on such terms : and Henry
thought that he could now see his way.
Accordingly Cardinal Joyeuse, who, from his position
as being allied to the blood-royal and from his rank in
Rome's hierarchy, was especially well calculated for the
mission, was sent to Italy as mediator, with the under-
stood, if not expressed, agreement of both sides that he
was to be received as such.
He came to the College accompanied by a large
number of senators in their red robes of state, and
having been received by the Doge at the bottom of the
Giant's Stair, was placed on his right hand in the
assembly. This occurred on the 17th of February,
1607, and the event may be considered to close the
second phase of the struggle. The story of the recon-
ciliation only remains to be told.
BOOK V.
PEACE WHERE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
CHAPTER I.
Cardinal de Joyeuse sent as ambassador extraordinary to Italy. — Difficulties
encountered by him. — Di Castro, the Spanish ambassador extra-
ordinary. — De Joyeuse at the College. — The "word," which the
Venetians were urged to speak. — Di Castro at the College. — Spauish
hostility. — Conditions proposed by the Senate — French finesse and
diplomatic tact. — Final reply of the Senate to De Joyeuse, and to
Di Ca.stro. — De Joyeuse starts for Rome. — The Turkish view of the
quarrel. — The Spanish ambassador's detected faLsehoods. — Nego-
tiations of De Joyeuse at Kome. — His return from Kome.
Henry IY. had not undertaken, in tlic face of
Europe, the office of mediator between the H0I3' See
and the Republic-, witliout good reasons for feeling
assured that he would succeed in acconiplisliing the
task. All that had been done hitherto by tlie ordinary
resident French ambassador at Venice, entered into
the usual diplomatic intercourse between the two states,
and did not in anywise engage the credit of France, in
case her good offices should prove unavailing. The
especial mission of a mediator, and tliat one of the
rank and importance of a cardinal of tlie blood-royal,
was a different matter ; and the dignity and rc'[)utati()n
of France would have been felt to be compn^mi.sed in
Europe if it had turned out to be a failure. Cardinal do
Joyeuse, therefore, camt; to Italy with the full expec-
tation and intention of not returning to l''ninoe till
the reconciliation of the cstrangfd stutes was in somn
way or other accomplished. 'J'lie thing was to be
312 PEACE WHERE TIIEKE WAS NO TEACE.
done ; nnd he was come to do it. Either part}' must
yiehl a little. Much might be done by diplomatic
dexterity — much be hoped from a copious and judicious
application of that great panacea of diplomatists, an
infinite quantity of words holding in solution an infini-
tesimal, and not easily precipitable, modicum of mean-
ing. Something also might be gained by the mediator's
ingenuity in making the same stipulations appear to
be not quite the same to the two parties. It remained
to be seen which of the litigants would prove the most
squeezable. If little or nothing could be got from tlie
one, why a stronger pressure must be put upon the
other. And the Cardinal was quite prepared to speak
strongly to either party at need.
But his eminence had not been many hours in
Venice, before he had abundant means of convincing
himself that the task before him was a very thorny
one ; that very little was to be squeezed in the way of
concession out of the firmness of the republicans, and
that if he were met by equal determination not to give
way at Rome, the "ultima ratio " would yet have to be
applied to for the solution of the quarrel. It very soon
also became clear to him that he liad likewise to con-
tend with another difliculty. The Spanish ambassador-
extraordinary, Don Francesco di Castro, was still at
Venice. Si)ain had been exceedingly mortified at the
failure of his mission, and the very evident preference
of the Venetians for putting their affairs into French
hands. The efforts accordingly of the Spanish diplo-
matist to embai'rass the negotiations of his rival, and
throw impediments in his wa}', were unceasing. Should
he fail in thus preventing the success of the French
mediation, his object Avas to appear to have sliared in
it. False statements and insidious misrepresentations
SPANISH POLICY. 313
were not spared either at Rome or at Venice with this
view. And the means of mischief at the disposal of
this treacherous false friend were much increased h}'
the impossibility of keeping him a stranger to the
negotiations going on. The terms on which Venice
avowedly, and to all outward appearance, stood with
Spain, and the previous part which that power and her
ambassadors had had in all the negotiations arising out
of the interdict, foi'bad this. The Frenchman woukl
fain have had the Senate keep what passed between
hiui and themselves a secret from the unsuccessful
Spaniard. But the Venetians felt that they could not
do this without risking an open rupture with Spain.
The Spaniard failed signally in all his objects. He
could neither prevent the reconciliation from being
completed, nor could he succeed in making it one jot
more favourable to Rome than it would have been
without liim. Neither was he more fortunate in his
efforts to appear to Europe to be a sharer in the
work which was consummated in spite of him. In
short, from first to last in all this story, Spain made
hut a sorry figure, and gathered from her participation
in it only less mortification and loss of credit than her
proU(j(\ the Pope. Nevertheless the presence of Oi
Castro at Venice constituted a very serious addition to
the difficulties the French Cardinal hud to contend
with.
TJie first public sitting of the College at wliieli !>(•
Joyeuse appeared was, the old diarist informs* us, ;ill
consumed in compliments. II«' iiii;L!ht ]i;ive added that
a good half of ( acli succeeding session was simihiily
employed. Til" nllable ami courteous Frcncinnau
• Cornet, Op. rit. p. 21 I.
314) TEACE WHERE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
expended an immense amount of fair words in tr3ang
what was to be done by cajolery ; but the cautious old
senators declined giving anything in return for these
save any required quantity of words of a precisely
similar quality. The conferences were wonderfully
lengthened, and the labours of the Venetian secretaries
and chroniclers were immenselj'^ increased by these
wordy tilting-matches of courtesy, and no other result
seems to have been attained by them. But diplo-
matists and statesmen are a patient, word-enduring
race, and the communications between them were, the
reader will understand, all conducted secundum artem,
and after the nature of their kind. This being pre-
mised, we may venture on allowing all the vehicle of
diplomatic courtesy to evaporate, and then scraping up
the residuum of real meaning left in tiie retort, pre-
sent it to the reader neat and crude in as few words as
may be.
At the second meeting of the Cardinal and the
College, on the lOtli of Fej^ruary, 1G07, the instances
of the former, urging the Venetian government to
make some step in advance, on which he might base
his representations to the Pope, were met by the little
encouraging reply, that, seeing that " all the obstinacy
and the going backwards and forwards was on the
Pope's side, it would seem more to the purpose that
all the instances, and the force of the authority of his
Most Christian jMajesty, and all the efforts and the
wisdom of his eminence himself, should be turned
towards the Pontiff ! " The Cardinal, in no wise
offended, replied, that his Majesty lias used his utmost
efforts with the Pope. Could not the Ptepublic, with-
out doing anything in the least derogatory to their
dignity or prejudicial to their government, — which his
JOTEUSE AND THE SEXATE. ;315
Most Christian Majesty would not think of asking them
to do, — find some way of speaking that " one word "
which the Pope required, and which, once spoken, all
difficulties would vanish ? AVe hear a great deal in
the course of these negotiations of this " one word "
from the Venetian government, whicli was to satisfy
the Pope and make all smo6th. But it was just
that one zcorcl which the Senate would not say, — the
one little word that Piome niiiiht construe into a
" peccavi," and forthwith huriy to absolve and receive
into her maternal bosom the repentant sinner. The
different ambassadors of the powers had for montlis
past been endeavouring to make Venice utter this
" one word " wliich the Pontiff was so eager to hear.
But the senators had no intention of pronouncing it.
Might not some form be found of saying this word,
the Cardinal now urged, which, without binding the
Piepublic to anything, miglit yet serve as a shadow of
satisfaction to the Pope ? Miglit it not be said " con-
fidentially between the Senate and liis Most Christian
Majesty ? " Could they not " whisper it in his, the
Cardinal's, own ear?" lie implored his Serene
Highness and the College to think maturely of it, and
give him an early answer. lie could undertake to
affinn, that if thej' would only accede to this, tlierc
would be no further difficulty.
A few days after this conversation between the
Cardinal and the College, L)i Castro, the Spanish
ambassador extraordinary, came to the College, and
spoke of liis desire, in confoimity with llu? wishes of
the King his master on tliis ])oint, to unite liis
mediation with that of I''r;ni( ■ . II.' Legged that liis
Serene Highness, the Doge, would settle this jioint
one way or the other. He hud spoken on the subject
SIG TEACE WHEllE THERE AVAS NO PEACE.
to the Cardinal, lie said, and had fjone so far even as
to tell him that " he did not pretend to be his conn-ade
in the business, but only to act under him as his
leader in it ; but for all tliat he could see plainly that
the Cardinal was not favourably disposed to such an
union." The result of this coldness on the part of
France, and of SiiainVill-liumour in consequence, was
seen about a fortniglit later, in a letter to the Senate
from the Venetian ambassador at Madrid, telling them
tliat the Conte Olivares had spoken to him with much
discontent at the small value set by the Venetian
government on the mediation of the Spanish king ;
that he had said, " God only could foresee the issues
of war. It would be a matter of great grief to him if
his Majesty should be compelled to draw his sword
against the Republic ; but that he would not be able to
avoid doing so, if the Pontifical authority was tram[ded
on." But the threat thus conveyed appears to have
made very little imi)ression on the Venetians, who
were well aware that Spain would have long before
this taken up arms on behalf of the Pope had she
been in a condition to do so.
On the 20th of February, the important question of
the answer to be given to the Cardinal was debated in
the Senate; and on the 1st of March the resolution
which the senators had come to was read to his Emi-
nence in the College. The terms which Venice would
consent to, and which the French ambassador was
empowered to propose to the Pope, were as follows : —
1st. France and Spain should request the Pontiff to
take off the Interdict. They might even, in doing so,
say that they asked it in the name of the Republic.
(It is to be observed, that tlie government had hitherto
refused to admit the latter condition.)
TERMS OF VENICE. 317
2nd. AVlien the Interdict should have been removed,
the two ecclesiastical prisoners should be given up to
a person appointed by the Pope to receive them, " as a
favour granted to his most Christian Majesty," and
without prejudice of the right of the civil power in
Venice to exercise jurisdiction over ecclesiastics.
(Here it is to be noted, that if the Pope consented to
receive the two priests on these terms, the Republic
would be placed in a better position than before the
quarrel, inasmuch as the right of jurisdiction over
ecclesiastics, which was alleged on the part of the
Republic to be based only on certain ancient and dis-
puted bulls, would thus be authoritatively recognised
and admitted.)
3rd. Together with the withdrawal of the Interdict,
tlie protest against it published by Venice should also
be withdrawn, and the Venetian documents relating to
the entire affair should be dealt with exactly as Rome
should deal with her documents in the matter.
4th. When the censures (the Interdict, Excommuni-
cation, See.,) should have been taken oft", an ambassador
should be sent by the Republic to Rome to tliank liis
lloVmess fur havinrj opened a imthfor amicable )ie(joiui-
t'lon. (Thus asserting, that it was the Pope who made
the first move towards reconciliation; — tlio haughty
and crafty republicans !)
•Otli. The Republic remains firm in refusing all sus-
pension of the laws comjdained (jf; in the use of wliicli
Venice will not depart from tlic pious spirit which has
always animated her.
De Joyeuse expressed liimself on the whole satisfied
with these terms ; but could liave wislicd, he said,
some small matter more, for the final conclusion of ihu
business.
SIS PEACE AVIIERE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
On the next day the Cardinal came again to the
college accompanied by the ordinary French ambas-
sador, Du Fresne ; and then it came out, that " the
small matter more," so much insisted on by him was
that same " word," which Paul was so anxious to get
from the Venetians, the whole value of which in the
hands of the Roman court and its historians one can
so well appreciate. Du Fresne added that the same
" word " was a sine qua, non with the Pope ; and he
further explained that by this word of submission was
to be understood the suspension of the contested laws.
The ambassador knew full well, that there was no
chance of this being assented to by the Republic. But
the adroit di[)lomatist thought that he saw a possibility
of squeezing the needful word out of that last phrase
of the conditions accorded by the Republic, viz., that
in the execution of these laws Venice would ever
adhere to her ancient pious spirit. He begged the
College to say fi'ankly whether by making use of this
expression, they had intended to avoid making any
decree upon the subject, yet at the same time to adhere
to the proposals made by the King of France, so that
the Cardinal might once for all give the Pontiff the
word he asked for. It was necessary to understand
cue another on this point, he said ; because as the
King his master would have to give this word in writing,
he wished to be sure of what he was about. If the
Republic would only give some manifestation of its
meaning on this point, " it would do excellently well
for his Majesty to make the Pope content himself with
this false mcmey, seeing that * this word ' had but to
serve as a mere ceremony; for, as his Majesty had
observed, the law being a prohibitory one, it was in
point of fact operative during its suspension."
PROrOSAL OF DI CASTEO. 319
It must be admitted that his Majest3''s logic is of a
very royal kind. If a prohibition be suspended, it is
clear enough that the acts it prohibits may be done ;
but Henry and his ambassador seem to have under-
stood, that by the suspension of the law, all action in
the matters to which it related was to be suspended.
The Cardinal added, that he would undertake that tlie
Pope should on his side prohibit all ecclesiastics from
taking any action whatever in the matter during the
suspension ; so that it should be quite needless for the
state to forbid them to buy or build, &c.
The ambassador also said, in conclusion, that the
re-admission of the Jesuits was a sine qua non with
the Pope ; that he was fully determined on this point,
considering that his own personal honour Avas con-
cerned in it. " And," added Du Fresne, " everybody
knows by this time the invincible obstinacy of his
Holiness."
So the College adjourned to deliberate in a subse-
quent sitting on the answer to be given to these pro-
posals, which in the matter of that " word " to be given,
so often recurred to, must be admitted to have sailed
as near the wind as the finest diplomatic tactics could
accomplish.
The next day came Don Francesco di Castro, say-
ing that his king was desirous of joining in tiu'se
same representations to the Pope ; but with less diplo-
matic finesse, he simply proposed tlnit the laws should
not be put in execution during the period of ni-go-
tiation.
Tlie Senate deliberated on the difTicult and im-
portant point now before them during several anxious
sittings. Various shades of modification in the word-
ing of the proposals were suggested. At length on
320 TEACE WIlEllE TIIEHE WAS NO PEACE.
the 1 Itli of March, it was determined that the Collcgo
shoiikl read to both the ambassadors (separately it is
to be understood) the following repl}'.
The Republic could not consent to permit an ambas-
sador to depart for Rome before the censures were
repealed. This, it should seem, had been asked,
though we do not find mention of it recorded in the
previous communications of the ambassadors ; neither
could they promise anything respecting the Jesuits, —
they had been banished for very grave offences, com-
mitted both previous and subsequent to the Interdict.
It was a totally separate matter ; and his Holiness
must content himself with passing the subject over in
silence, and remaining at liberty to make any remarks
he wished on it to their ambassador, subsequently to
the restoration of amicable intercourse. As to " the
word to be spoken," the Senate considered that in
saying that " the Republic w'ould not depart in using
these laws from its ancient pious and religious spirit,"
it had put into the hands of the mediators enough to
enable them to bring the matter fairly to a favourable
conclusion.
The Senate, it will be observed clearly, avails itself
of the plan for passing this " false money " on his
Holiness, thrown out with such diplomatic skill by the
ingenious Frenchman.
In concluding the reading of this reply to the
Cardinal, the College told him that the Spanish
minister having come to them with similar proposals,
they could not do less than give him courteously a
similar answer; but that his eminence might rest
assured that the anxious wish of the Republic was,
that the business should be confided to his hands ; and
that any favourable result Avhich should be attained
EEPLY OF- THE SENATE. 3.U
by the mediation, would be most undoubtedly attri-
buted by them and the world in general to the authority
of his Most Christian ^lajesty and the efforts of liis
eminence.
De Joyeuse, when this was read to liim the next
day in the College, said that he could have wished
that the Senate had shown more confidence in his
Most Christian jNIajesty, and had given him a some-
what wider discretionary power ; that he would
however content himself with the reply given, and.
would do his utmost to conclude matters with the
Pope on that basis. He begged that this reply might
not be communicated to others, and that the Senate
would observe the utmost secrecy with respect to it.
It would seem that by " others," he could only
have alluded to the Spanish ambassador. And
yet the College had already told hi)n tlmt tliey felt
tliemselves obliged to give a similar reply to the
Spaniard. Possibly, he meant, that Di Castro should
not be told that tliis same reply had been given
to him. It is curious to note that the Cardiiuil
deemed it a possibility to secure the silence of the
entire body of senatoi-s. "What would bo thought
of a similar expectation Avitli regard to our House
of I>ords ?
On the following day a communication to tlie like
effect was made to Hi Castro. He replied that if the
Pope would content himself with " tlie word " so veiled,
Ik; for his part was content; adding, with gi-cat want
of that tact which the PVench diplomatist had mani-
fested, that lie understood tlic answer 1o moan, that
tlie Ptopuldic was content that ponding negotiations,
the contested laws should not be acted on. 'J'hc J>ogo
coldly replied that the resolution of the Senate was
322 PEACE WHERE TIIEllE WAS IsO PEACE.
clear, and that it was not for liim to add to or take
from it anything whatsoever.
On the next day, the IGtli of Marcli, a gentle-
man of the suite of the Cardinal waited on the
College to inform them that his eminence had, for
the better service of the Eepublic, dei^arted in all
haste for Rome. De Joyeuse was determined not to
let the grass grow nnder his feet ; and by his
promptitude stole a very important march on his
Spanish rival.
Not a day passed during this time — and indeed
almost the same may be said of all the months during
which the contest lasted — without letters coming to
the Senate from their envoys in all parts of the world,
bearing on the successive phases of the great contest.
For the sake of obtaining a clear and unbroken narra-
tive of the negotiations, which really were influential
in bringing the matter to its termination, as well as in
obedience to the possibilities of space and time, the
great mass of these have had to be neglected. But a
little letter from the Venetian resident at Constanti-
nople which arrived at this time, is too curious and
amusing to be passed over. The Turkish government,
writes the " Bailo" — such was the title of the Venetian
envoys to the Porte — had ordered continual prayers
and jyi'ocessioiis {?) to be made for the continued life
and health of the Pope, who was making such discord
among Christian nations. Never had they had, said
the Turks, a mufti, who had been so useful to their
interests as this Pontiff of the Christians ; and in this
they saw a very clear proof of God's especial favour to
them and their faith. It must be admitted that the
patriotic Bailo's communication has more the air of an
epigram than a matter-of-fact report. But one cannot
FALSEHOOD OF DI CASTRO, 323
help hoi:)ing that his HoHness was informed of these
infidel prayers for his welfare. Would they not have
terrified him witli apprehensions that such supplications
might he operative in a contrary sense ?
On the 29th of March tlie Spanish amhassador came
to the College to tell them that all was going well at
Eome, owing to the unremitting efforts of tlie Most
Catholic King, and those of his amhassador at Home.
The difficulty of the Jesuits still remained, he said.
But on the next day he returned, declaring that this
also had at last heen got over, the Pope having con-
sented to waive the point, as a favour to the Spanish
King.
All this was listened to with grave courtesy hy the
Doge and the rest of the College. But as they had on
the morning of his first visit just heen reading a
despatch from Home, written by the Cardinal of
Vicenza to the following effect, it may easily be
imagined that the grave and reverend signiors of the
Senate smiled inwardly and exchanged, as we may fancy,
very significant glances with each other as tliC}- listened
to the bragging Spaniard's falsehoods. I'lie Cardinal de
Joyeuse, the letter told them, liad, after long consulta-
tion with the French ambassador at Rome, and Cardinal
de Perron, gone immediately to the Vatican. II<? had
found the Pope much humbled and discouraged. Paul
after a little talk confessed to him that for the last
three days ho had been " kept on the cross " by the
Cardinals and the Spaniards. Ilo could get nothing,
lie said, from them to any good purpose. Tiiat very
morning he had given audience to tlie IMarcheso di
Castiglione (the Spanish ambassador at Homo), and he
had nothing from him but va^nu> talk. He was fully
determined therefore to put himself into the huufls of
t2
324. PEACE WIIEKE TIIEUE WAS NO PEACE.
the French, unci to trust to them for the arrangement
of this thorn}^ business. lie only begged that they
would strive their utmost to obtain the return of the
Jesuits. He complained further, that when he had
wished to consult the Cardinals on these matters, he
had found no good counsel in them, and no good will
towards a reconciliation, (The behaviour of these same
princes of the Church when the imprudent step of
launching the Interdict was proposed to them, will be
remembered.) He thought, therefore, of saying nothing
further of the matter in Consistory, but concluding the
business himself by virtue of the authority which God
had given him.
Notwithstanding all this, the College sent a secre-
tary to the house of Di Castro to read to him the
expression of the Senate's thanks for his good ofiQces.
It is impossible not to suspect, and the Spaniard him-
self, one would think, could not have avoided feeling,
that a little grave irony was hidden under the abound-
ing courtesy and compliments of the Senate, when
they assure him that they never doubted, when the
Most Catholic King sent his excellency to them,
that all difficulties with the Pope would be got over
by the efficacy, dexterity, and prudence of his good
offices.
On the 2nd of April, Du P'resne, the French ambas-
sador in ordinary, came to the College with news of
the entire success of the Cardinal's negotiation. The
courier who brouglit the news had been dispatched by
his eminence at midniglit on the night of the 29th of
the last month. The Cardinal was bringing with him
the bull for the revocation of the censures, which he
had obtained from the Pope with the greatest difficulty
— his Holiness having much wished that this ceremony
RETURN OP JOYEUSE. 325
shojild have been performed with fitting solemnities at
Rome.
On the 10th of April, the Cardinal himself arrived,
and hurried at once to the College, to communicate his
great news, and settle the formalities of the arrange-
ment already substantially determined on.
CHAPTER II.
The Canlinal reports his successes. — The Jesuit difficulty. — Other
differences. — The reply of the Senate. — Account of the interview
between the Cardinal and the deputed Senators. — Venice does not
wish for a Tapal benediction.- — Who shall speak first, Doge or Pope?
— The Cardinal loves truth, but loves Pope Paul better. — Shall we say
two ambassadors ? — Venice won't bate an inch. — The Pope, therefore,
has to do so. — The form of the document recalling the Ducal Protest. —
Tweedledum and Tweedledee. — Conditions of reconciliation are com-
pleted.
The diplomatic Cardinal presented himself before
the anxiously expectant members of the College
radiant with triumph ; in great part doubtless sincerely
felt, and, in the additional touches needed to make up
its entiret}'', well assumed. It is probable that his
eminence did not feel quite so sure as he expressed
himself, that all difiiculties wevo now over, and the
diplomatic ship safe in harbour. But it may easily
be believed that he did think himself much nearer the
port than he in truth was. The termination of a
tempestuous voyage is very often the most dliiicult and
dangerous part of it.
His eminence commenced his report in a vein of
liigh jubilation. "He knew," he said, "that his
resolution to go to Eome in i)erson had been a special
inspiration from Heaven, with a view to the termina-
tion of these negotiations." The difficulties had been
immense, increased as they had been by the ill-offices
and machinations of others — [meaning the Spaniards] ;
JOYEUSE EEPORTS HIS SUCCESS. 327
and despite all his efforts, there were several moments
when all had seemed lost. Now, however, by God's
grace all was well. The Pope himself he had found
animated with tlie utmost good-will and paternal
affection towards the Republic — (Oh ! Oh !) ; — and he
had powers from his Holiness to take off the censures
on the execution of the articles alreadj'' agreed upon.
(Here a little movement must have been noticeable in
the assembly, and grave looks been exchanged among
the senators. The cloven foot was peeping out already.
Censures to be taken off on execution of articles ! Not
while the winged lion stands firm on his column in the
piazza ! Your eminence is making a slight anachronism.
It must be rice rcnu, if you please. This, however,
was not the moment for remark, and his eminence goes
glibly on.) These articles are, the consignment of the
prisoners to the person ai^pointed to receive them in
the name of his Holiness, to whom, although it is
understood that his Serene Highness gives them as a
compliment to his Most Christian jNIajcsty, thoy shall
be simply handed over without any remarks. (.\nd
here serious doubts arise in the minds of the senators
as to the genuineness of that inspiration from Heaven
which sent the Cardinal to Eomc. AVhat ! docs his
eminence take them for children, to suppose that they
are going to pivc up their prisoners in sucli a wa}' as
to admit of the act being construed into an admission
that they liad no right to liold tliciii ? No remarks to
bo made ! Venice intends to make a very iintablo
remark on this occasion.) Then the protest and tlic
ducal letters to the governors, ilc, arc to be revoked ;
and the regular clergy who have left Venice on accoimt
of the Interdict to be allowed to return, and lo lie
restored to their revenues. (Neither will these two
328 PEACE "WHEEE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
points pass 'uithout a little modification.) Thei-e were
indeed, two other heads remaining : one as to the
ambassador to be sent by the Republic to the Pope —
his Holiness having been greatly desirous that such
envoy should at least haye arrived near E-ome before
the removal of the censures ; the other as to the
Jesuits. "With regard to the first, his eminence had
with no little difficulty induced the Pope to yield. As
to the Jesuits, his Holiness had been absolutely deter-
mined to listen to nothing until this matter had been
promised him. But even on this point too, the
Cardinal had succeeded in persuading him not to make
the removal of the censures depend upon it. Never-
theless, he did hope that the Republic would not
insist upon this topic. The Pope felt it as a matter
personal to himself. He did not care, for his part,
whether there were Jesuits at Venice or not, but he
was anxious about his own reputation. In a word,
added the Cardinal, the reconciliation may no doubt be
effected without acceding to the return of the Jesuits,
but it will be a seeming and not a real reconciliation.
It will not carry with it the good results which we
hojie from it. His eminence enlarged at considerable
length on this topic, anxiousl}' urging the Republic to
yield this point by every argument he could think of,
putting it as a mark of gratitude to his Most Christian
Majesty, and a personal favour to himself. Leaving it
to the favourable consideration of the assembly, he
cursorily remarked that the person deputed by the
Pope to receive the prisoners would arrive in Venice
to-morrow, and they might be given up at once ; and
then went on to speak of the mode in which the for-
mality of taking off the censures should be pi'oceeded
with. There would be no need of any documents :
THE doge's EEPLY. 329
liis Serene Higliuess woukl accompany liim — the Car-
dinal — into the church ; a high mass should he cele-
hrated — or even a low mass if the Senate preferred it ;
his eminence would pronounce a hlessing, and the
matter would be done. The pronunciation of a public
blessing by a Cardinal in fact involved necessarily the
removal of all ecclesiastical censures. And this he
was perfectly read}- to perform, as soon as the matter
stipulated should have been executed.
The Doge remarked that if the censures were to be
taken off without any written document, he did not see
that any such was requisite for the cancelling of the
ducal protest. The Cardinal replied that a written
law registered in the archives could not be recalled
save by another similarly made and recorded ; and that
if the Republic preferred that a document declaratory
of the removal of the censures should be drawn up, it
should be done in the amplest terms that could be
desired. But he had thought, he said, that the
llepublic would have preferred that no such document
should be used. And in fact the Doge's argument had
not been a liappy one. The policy of Venice was tliat
the Interdict, by them declared to have been a mdlity,
should be treated as such ; and that any taking of it
off should be as little positive, formal, and tangible, as
might be.
Thus ended the mediator's exposition of the con-
ditions he was empowered to offer and accept ; and the
College adjourned with the very strong conviction thuL
their troubles were not by a great deal so nearly at an
end as the Cardinal had professed, and hud hd ihem
to imagine.
On the 1 1th of April, the day following the Cardinal's
visit to the College that is, it was decided by the Scuutc
330 PEACE AVIIERE TIIEEE WAS NO PEACE.
that two of their body should be sent to the residence
of his eminence, to read to him their reply to his
communication. Stripjied of its abundant wrappages
of complimentary flourishes, the gist of it came to
this : — That since his eminence was empowered to
remove the censures by his own act, he might as well
perform tliat act in the College as by a ceremonial
going to church ; that he might do it at once, and that
then they would immediately do all they had under-
taken to do. These conditions are once more rehearsed,
with the careful mention of the declaration to be made
at the time of giving up the prisoners, of the right of
the Republic to exercise jurisdiction over ecclesiastics.
The recall of the protest sliould be by written docu-
ments, as his eminence wished. The return of the
banished fi'iars, and the entire pardon of all ecclesiastics
in prison, or under process for disobedience to the
Senate, must be understood to involve the perfect
immunity from ecclesiastical prosecution or persecution
of all those who had obeyed the Republic. As to the
Jesuits, the Senate w-as unable to comply with the
wishes of his eminence.
On the following day the two senators who had been
deputed to this ofhce gave an account to the College of
their interview with the Cardinal. In the first place
they had " discovered " that the powers held by the
Cardinal to take off the censures were not conveyed
*' by a brief, but by written instructions, signed and
sealed." The difference would not appear to be very
important ; and, in fact, no more is heard of it. Then,
on the Cardinal wishing to enter into discussion, Du
Fresne who was present said, interrupting him, that
he thought as the duty of receiving the prisoners would
devolve upon him he ought to speak on that subject.
KEPOET OF THE DEPUTATION. 331
Upon Avhich lie declared that, if the llepublic would be
ready to give them up to liim as had been suggested,
in the house of the Cardinal, he would be ready to
receive them there, subject to the conditions prescribed
by the Senate. The Cardinal appeared, said the
deputation, to agree to this ; and, passing on to speak
of the taking off of the censures, said that he was
willing to oblige the Senate by pronouncing the revo-
cation of them in the College instead of in the church,
but that he could not understand why the senators
sliould wish to avoid a pontifical blessing. " We
answered him," say the deputed senators, " that we
could not think any such blessing necessary to the
Eepublic under the present circumstances, insismuch
as not having been in any fault it did not desire
benedictions, which might pass for absolutions." Tlie
Cardinal then went on to say, that after revoking the
censures in the College he would proceed to celebrate
a mass in the church, that the reconciliation might be
known to all men ; and that before he came to the
College for this purpose, the tilings agreed to by the
llepublic should be executed the same morning, —
the revocation of the protest, the consignment of the
})risoners, and tlic recall of the religious orders. He
submitted also a form of declaration for lliis lust
l>urpose, which had been approved of, he said, by tlie
J'ontiff. This formula reinstated "all the ecclesiastics"
who had been banislR<l from Venice for causes arising
out of the censures. No special mention was made of
the Jesuits; and the Cardinal urged strongly tliat the
i'ope should at least be spnred tlie aflVont cf a jmblic
declaration of tlieir exclusion ; remarking that ns the
Senate declared the Jesuits to have been exiled on
grounds other than those connected wifli the censures,
33^ PEACE WHERE TIIEUE WAS NO PEACE.
and as tlie formula proposed reinstated only " all those
who had been banished on that account," it was
manifestly unnecessary to say anything about the
Jesuits. His eminence added that all these matters
were mere appearances, which the Pope set store by
for the sake of his own credit ; that his instructions
from his Most Christian Majesty were to maintain the
liberties of the Republic in every essential point, but
at the same time to let the Pope off as easily as
possible as far as mere appearance was concerned.
The two deputies replied that all these things
should be done as soon as the censures were recalled.
Du Fresne here remarked, that it really seemed to
him that the Ptej)ublic would still stand in a better
position than the Pope if the}' executed this j)art of
the agreement before the removal of the censures, for
the Pope had already taken the first step, by sending
the Cardinal armed with power to that ell'ect. The
Cardinal added, that he begged them as a favour not
,to stand on these punctilios with the Pope.
The deputies replied again that it Avas not in their
power to do as the Cardinal would have them ; that
with respect to the revocation of the protest, it was
manifestly impossible to do it before the recall of the
censures, for it must be motived on something, and
the only motive for it was that same recall.
Hereupon the Cardinal declared that this was a
matter which had not been debated at all ; that he had
no instructions from the Pope respecting it ; that it
appeared to him to be insuperable ; that it was indeed
of such a nature that he was not sure that the Pope
himself was competent to decide upon it ; that the
question raised belonged to the Inquisition, which had
had the composition of documents under its care ; that
JOYEUSE A GOOD CIlUKCmiAN. 333
if the Inquisition should judge that there was anything
contrary to religion in the proceeding, lie did not
really see what the Pope could do ; that he thought,
for his part, that the Pontiff would not put his hand
to the business under such conditions ; &;c. &c. kc.
Now, with much respect for the Cardinal de Joyeuse
and his blood royal, the present writer declines to
believe a word of all this. So far from its being
credible that the question as to which party should
first submit to the 3'ielding which was to lead to a
reconciliation had never been entered on bj' the Pope,
it can hardly be doubted that it had been the subject
of most eager consultation. Both parties were fully
aware of all the importance of the point. If Venice
did anytliimj to meet the wishes of the Pontiff before
the recall of the Interdict, it would be preached by a
thousand tongues and pens to all Europe, und would
stand as an historical fact for all future time, that the
Cliurch liad removed her censures on receiving due
submission from the Republic on those points which
had called them forth. Home would have boon
justified; Venice would liave cried *' peccavi ;" and
the result of the whole struggle would have been to
strengthen the bonds of sacerdotal tyranny and
encroachment instead of weakening them. Venice
had not struggled for this, and she had no intention
to let lierself be cheated out of the fruits of iur
victory in the moment of gathering tin m. Tiic ('ur-
dinal, as a good churchman, did his utmost to obtain
this important advantage for tlie Churili ; but wiirn
he found that his big words did not succeed in moving
the senators a jot from tlicir (piict purpose, he very
soon came down to a lower tone.
He began to express bis hope that the act for the
334 PEACE whi:re there was no peace.
revocation of the jn-otest would Lo made as " full of
atfcctionate words and respectful expressions towards
the Pontiff " as possible ; and as to the difference
about the precedence of the two acts in point of time,
perliaps after all the difficidty might be turned by
making them absolutely contemporaneous, using some
such form of expression as "the Pope removing the
censures, we also remove, &c." As for the ambas-
sador to be sent by the Senate to Rome, if they would
not consent to proceed to the election of one before
the removal of the Interdict, perliaps they would
consent to honour the Pontiff by electing two after-
wards.
To this proposal, it may be said here, — though the
reply of the Senate was not given till some time later,
— that the Cardinal was told that on any other occa-
sion the Piepublic would send ten ambassadors to
Rome, but that under the present circumstances they
should limit themselves to one.
On the lith, the Senate debated on the reply to be
given to the Cardinal respecting the proposals put
forward by him, as shown in the above report. After
having divided on two forms of answer, the very slight
difference between Avliich serves to mark the jealous
care with which the senators weighed every word of
their negotiations, it was voted that the Cardinal
should be told at the next sitting of the College, that
the Senate had felt much discontent at finding that
his eminence had made propositions varying in most
essential particulars from what had been previously
agreed upon, and that the discontent would have been
much greater, had not the Senate felt assured that his
eminence would finally overcome all difficulties and
bring the affair to a good conclusion. The College
rUKTHER HIGGLING. 335
then proceeded to go over again the various points,
precisely as they had been agreed to by them. First,
the prisoners shoukl be given up after the recall of the
censures and with the formula, which has been more
than once repeated here, and had been more than fifty
times in the course of the negotiations. It was also
stipulated that the officers of the Republic should
consign the two ecclesiastics to the French minister,
and he might give them over to the Papal commis-
sioner, as soon as the Venetian officers should have gone
an ay. It is easy to appreciate the drift of all these
little arrangements. The Senate was treating with an
enemy ready and vigilant to seize ever}' slightest atom
of vantage ground, and most skilful in turning all such
advantages to important futui'e profit. It well behoved
them to be wary, and firm on points that in dealing
with any other state might have seemed puerilities.
In the next place, the censures were to be taken off
by the Cardinal in the CoUege, wit Ik ait ])roceeding
to any further or subsequent ceremony ; the Senate
promising that the ducal protest should be simul-
taneously cancelled, in such sort that the document
declaratory of such act should be put into the Car-
dinal's hand the instant he pronounced the cessation
of the censures.
Thirdly, the election of an ambassador to 1 Ionic
sliould be proceeded to immediately after the pro-
nunciation of the removal of the censures.
Fourthly, witli r^^uid to tlie return .if tlic religious
orders, tlie Senate could not accept the formula
l)roposcd by the Cardinal. If any declaration ujxm
Die subject were to be made it must include a specific
exception of the Jesuits. The only way to avoid this,
was to make no formal declaration on the subject ; but
33G TEACE WHERE TIIEKE WAS NO PEACE.
to trust to the loyalty of the Republic, that all except
the Jesuits might at once without any act or formal
permission return to their former positions.
These conditions were read to tlie Cardinal in the
College on the ICth of April. He fought hard against
the first article concerning the prisoners. They were
to be given up, he said, to his Holiness. So the king,
his master, had understood it. This was an essential
point ; and unless the Republic yielded it, he did not
see how he could be of any further service as a
mediator.
Passing to the simultaneous cancelling of the
censures and the protest, and the mode of taking off
the former, he was willing in this point to accede to
the views of the Republic, although the Pope had
wished it otherwise.
Respecting the election of the ambassador, he made
no further difficulty.
As to the return of the religious orders he still per-
sisted in demanding that a formal document should be
drawn up, and that no mention of the Jesuits should
b'e made in it. He implored the College to reflect
that all parties were quite agreed as to the real facts
that were to follow, — that the Jesuits, and some other
twelve or thirteen ecclesiastics specially excepted by
the Senate, were not to return ; but that the 'words on
the subject were more important to the Pope than the
facts which were to result from them ; and that he
must therefore insist on a formal document, to be
printed if the Senate, in accordance with their general
rule, declined to give a copy of it.
On the 17th the Senate deliberated anew on this
last communication of the Cardinal. Two forms of
reply were put to the vote. The first consented that
DEBATE OX CAXCELLIXG THE PROTEST. 337
the prisoners should be handed over on the same
morning, but previous to the revocation of the
censures ; liokling firm to and rehearsing afresh the
form in •which this was to be done and the words with
which it was to be accompanied. It repeated the pre-
vious conditions of the PvepubUc on all the other points.
The second form, with some small variation of i)hrase, in
fact conceded nothing. The first of the two proposals
was carried by a large majority. Two forms of can-
celling the protest, differing indeed only in phrase
were put to the vote on the same day. That wliicli
was preferred, declared that, " Since by God's grace
means had been found of bringing the Pope Paul V,
to the knowledge of the uprightness of our actions
and the rectitude of our intentions, and of the con-
tinued respect we feel for the Holy See, and leading
him to remove the causes of the present disagree-
ments, we, having always desired and endeavoured to
remain in friendship and good intelligence witli that
See, of which we are devout and obedient sons, arc
well pleased to have attained this righteous wish. We
therefore make known, &c., &c., to all whom it may
concern, &c., &c., that, all having been done on both
sides which is fitting in the business, witJt, the removal
of the censures, the protest formerly made by iis in thin
matter is torjcther luith them removed (k ncsTAXo
i.EVATO iNSiKMi;)," kc, kc.
On the IHth two senators were sent t>) tlio Cardinal
to inform him uf the result of the previous day's
debate, and submit to him the form for tlic cancel-
ling of the protest. With some little diflicully liis
eminence agreed to the proposals of the Senate «>n all
the four articles ; having, it will bo obsei-vcd, yielded
on every point except that of the consignment of the
338 PEACE AVIIEKE THERE WAS KO PEACE.
prisoners before the removal of the censures. And
as this consignment was to be accompanied with a
formal declaration of the right of the Bepublic to
exercise jurisdiction over ecclesiastics, it mattered
little when the prisoners were given up to the King of
France. The position of the llepublic was, as has
been remarked, evidently better in this respect than
it had been before the quarrel.
Agreement having been at length come to on all
these points, it remained for the Cardinal to examine
the form for the cancelling of the famous protest.
Plaving read and re-read the paper with minute atten-
tion, the Cardinal said that he could wish that where
the Senate spoke of their respect for the Holy See,
the words " and in particular for the person of the
Pontiff," sliould be added. The deputed senators
could see no necessity for any such addition. The
Holy See necessarily comprised the Pope, who was the
head of it. The Cardinal then passed on to say that
instead of speaking first of the recalling of the
censures and then of tliat of the protest, the two
facts should be mentioned in the contrary order. He
said also that he considered it very important that
instead of speaking of " removing" — (levai'e) — the pro-
test, the jihrase should be " revoking^
A great deal of wrangling took place during two or
three days on these objections. The Senate made no
difficulty in using the term " rivocare," but insisted on
making the mention of the revocation of the censures
precede that of the revocation of the j)rotest. And on
this point, too, as on so many others, the Cardinal had
to yield before the determination of the senators. The
words at last stood thus : — "Essendo state levate le
Censure e restato j^anmenti rivocato il Protesto ^ — the
EECONCILIATIOX. 339
censures having been taken off, the protest remains
equally revoked*
And so Venice returned very haughtily, and some-
what sullenly, with head held high and flying colours,
to officially amicable relations with that Holy Father,
to whom she professed so much devotion.
■ * The account of these negotiations has been compressed into the shortest
possible space, from the ample and very lengthy details given by the con-
temporary diarist recently edited by Sig. Cornet, and so often cited in
these pages.
i3
CHAPTER III.
The day of reconciliation. — The giving up of the ecclesiastical prisoners. —
No rejoicings in Venice. — The removal of the Censures. — The Cardinal
celebrates mass. — Venice won't listen to him. — An ambassador to
Rome elected. — Presents voted to De Joyeuse and Di Castro. — Fresh
complaints of the Pope. — Unsuccessful efforts of the Cardinal. —
"Stato" and "restato." — The new ambassador's entry into Hume,
and audience of the Pope. — Damage received by Eome in the contest..
— Her enmity against Sarpi.
The 21st of April, 1G07, was a great day in Venice ;.
— and a busy one. The first on the list of important
transactions, to be accomplished before sunset, was the
consignment of the two ecclesiastics. The secretary,
Marco Ottoboni, was charged with this duty; and we
have in one of the appendices to Signor Cornet's work*
the secretary's official report of his proceedings.
The first thing in the morning tlie prisoners were
taken from the dungeons of the ducal palace, and placed
each in a gondola, " unbound and with their heads un-
covered." In each gondola was an officer and three
men-at-arms ; and, " for greater security," two other
gondolas followed with eight soldiers in each. The
spring-day sun was only just rising over the horizon of
the Lido and shooting its first slanting rays across the
lagoon, as the little procession, with the colours of the
* Cornet, Op. cit., p. 305.
GIV1^'G UP THE PRISONERS. 341
Republic fluttering at each boat's stem, put off from
that well-known low and dismal postern, cut at the
level of the water in the colossal black wall that forms
the back of tlie Doge's palace, which communicates im-
mediately with the range of prisons called the " x>ozzi."
But we may be sure that all Venice was astir, and the
neighbouring quays thickl}' crowded with citizens
waiting to see the prisoners emerge from luider the
Bridge of Sighs, and quietly and silentl}' noting their
progress in front of the " Piazzetta" towards the mouth
of the grand canal. — Quietly and silently ; for it did not
suit the polic}' or feelings of Venice to give way to exul-
tation, or any outward manifestations of rejoicing on the
occasion. The Senate " experienced contentment,"
tliat his Holiness had been brought to see the justice
of their cause. But it Avould by no means behave
before the world as one who has escaped a great
danger, or been relieved from a heavy calamity. No !
No ! They may make rejoicings at Home, if they will ;
but Venice is conscious of nothing that need move licr
calm equanimity. And when the Venetian Senate felt
in one way, it very rarely happened that the Venetian
people felt in another.
So the four boats proceeded silently to the residence
of the Cardinal, which was in the grand canal opposite
to tlie little churcli of Saint Marcuola, near " San Y.wau
iJegolil," wliich is Venetian for, "St. .Tolin the be-
headed." There arrived, tlie secretary went up, h-aviiig
Ills prisoners in the boats,, and was forfhwitli ndinilltd
to a room, wlierc were the Cardinal and tin* ainliassu-
dor in ordinary. To prevent all pdssibilily of nnstakos
the order to be observed was again gone over; mid the
two ambassadors were again warned ihaf ihc <>l1'u-er
receiving the ju-isoners for tlic iVpe was to receive
842 PEACE AVIIERE TIIEKE WAS NO PEACE.
them ivWiout saying aiajthing irliatever. Otlierwise the
secretary representing Venice on this occasion would
be obliged on his part to reply by observations -which
might lead to fresh difficulties and complications. All
having been thus arranged, the Cardinal left the room;
and the prisoners were immediately brought in, in
custody of the officers, together with two notaries ;
" and I," says Mr. Secretary Ottoboni, " with a loud
voice, so that not only all those present, but also several
other persons, who were looking in at the door, could
hear me, said to the ambassador : ' Most Illustrious
Sir, the Most Serene Republic of Venice has charged
me to consign to your Excellency these two prisoners,
the Abbot Brandolini and the Canon Saraceni ; which
the Republic does as a favour {grat'ificatione) to his most
Christian IMajesty, and without prejudice of the
authority it possesses to judge ecclesiastics.' And the
ambassador answered me : ' And so I receive them ;'
saying to the prisoners that he would protect and serve
them in any matter in which he could properly do so.
Then we all, that is to say, the ambassador of France,
I, the two notaries, the prisoners, and the officers, went
into the galler}'- where the Cardinal was, together with
many gentlemen, among whom was one in a priest's
dress. On coming into the room the ambassador said
to the Cardinal : ' Most Illustrious Eminence, these
are the prisoners that are given {die si clanno) to the
Pope.' And the Cardinal turning to him in the priest's
dress, said, ' Take them.' Pe touclied them with his
hand in sign of having received them ; and begged me
to order the officers to take them back again to the
prison and guard them well, at the orders of the
Cardinal, and of whomever the Pope might command.
I gave the order requested ; and with that we all de-
THE cardinal's SPEECH. 343
parted ; that individual in the priest's dress choosing
to accompany the prisoners to the prison."
The first act of the drama having been thus happily-
got through, the Cardinal had to hurry off to the
College for the performance of the second. The act
of removing the censures seems to have been performed
with as little of circumstance and ceremony as the
Iiepublic could have wished. The Cardinal came into
tlie College and simply said that all the ecclesiastical
censures wei'e at an end. The act of revocation of the
protest drawn up as was agreed, and without any men-
tion of tlie affection of tlie Republic to the person of
the Pope, was delivered to him ; and lie made a long
speech, very much in tlie tone of the Fitzgerald poem
in the Rejected Addresses, full of blessings on every
body and congratulations all round. His eminence
permitted himself to dwell a little on the services he had
Ijoen able to render to the Republic, remarking, that
the Republic might, perhaps, some day know the
extent of his efforts on its belialf, since he had put the
screw on the Pope {lui stretto il Papa) after a very
different fashion from what he had done to the Repub-
lic. " I spoke to him, indeed, upon several occasions,
so as to anger him seriously ; and here I have taken
ui)on myself a larger licence than was given mc at
Rome fur the sake of bringing the matter to u good end.
And I wish I could be sure that the I'ope will feel that
I have acted for the best for hiiii loo, :uiil will be con-
tented." All which was probably true ciiongli.
When the Cardinal had said his say in the Colh-go,
he went off to celebrate a high mass in the Cnthednil.
It was all he could do to give some little air of jul»ilre
and reconciliatory ceremony to the occasion. ]'>ut ho
had it all to himself. Venice had declared that she did
S44 PEACE WHERE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
not want any papal benediction under the present cir-
cumstances. And not a single senator, it is recorded,
attended this thanksgiving service.
Indeed the}' had enough to do elsewhere. The election
of an ambassador to Home had to be proceeded to and
the Senate had promised that the nomination should
be made that same da}'. Accordingly, the Cavaliere
Francesco Contarini was appointed before the senators
adjourned. Besides this, there were letters to be sent
off to the various governors of the provinces of terra
Jirma, and communications announcing the end of the
differences with the Holy See to be addressed to the
different foreign ministers, and to the Venetian resi-
dents at foreign courts.
In the letters to the governors throughout the domi-
nions of the Ilepublio, those magistrates were charged
to take care that the return of the friars and other
ecclesiastics should be quiet, orderly, and not marked
by any exultations or by triumphal entries, or the like.
All those who had remained obedient to the Eepublic
were to be reassured of their perfect safety from any
aggression or annoyance ; and further, any " demon-
stration, whether sacred or profane, on account of the
reconciliation," was rigorously prohibited. Instead
thereof five hundred ducats in each city were to be
given to charitable institutions.
On the 2Gth of April the Senate voted a present of
.3000 crowns to Don Francesco di Castro, who had
assuredly deserved neither thanks nor rewards at the
hands of Venice. And on the 1st of May a present in
jewellery to the amount of 0000 crowns Avas voted to
the Cardinal, and 800 crowns to his secretary. But it
is remarkable that this vote met with great opposition,
and was only carried in an irregular manner. The
NEW DIFFICULTIES. 3i5
majority in favour of it was by one vote only. Ac-
cording to rule, the same question had to be submitted
to a second division, which could not under these cir-
cumstances be done in the same sitting. But this
regulation was declared suspended on account of the
pressing nature of the business, as his eminence was
about to leave Venice ; and the question was again
put, with exactly the same result. The appropriation
of the mone}' could not now be made consistently with
tlie law. But a declaration was hurriedly come to, that
this law, too, was suspended for this special occasion,
and the Cardinal got his jewellery. It is puzzling why
tlie Senate, which seems to have made no difficulty
about the grant to the really hostile Spaniard, should
have opposed that to the friendly French mediator.
It might fairly have been supposed by the Senate,
now, that their word-catching disputes and anxious
deliberations on the subtle differences of phrases almost
identical had come to an end. But they were not quite
out of that Itoman wood yet.
On the 11th of May the Cardinal sent a message to
the College that he wished for a conference on certaui
matters of importance ; and tlie Secretary ]Marco
Ottoboni was iniinediately sent to wait on him. J lis
eminence said that he had received letters from
iJ'Alincourt, the French ambassador at Boiiie, which
contained very unpleasant tidings. The terms on
which the reconciliation had been made were extremely
unsatisfactory to the lionuin Cor.rt. 'J'he Pope wuh
furious. lie complained that the Most Cliristian King
had failed in his word to liiiii, and fhat the Cardinal
liud not adhered to the instructions lie had given liini.
lie declared that all that ha<l hecn done should bo un-
done again ; that lie would retract the statement he liud
346 I'EACE WHERE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
made in Consistory to the effect that the differences
were all arranged.
AVhat was most intolerable to him was the form in
which the revocation of the ducal protest had been
drawn up. He declared that there was no word to in-
dicate that the Republic had revoked the protest at all.
For, though it was stated that " the censures being re-
moved, the protest remained similarly revoked," those
words do not imply that the Senate had revoked it,
but rather that by the act of the removal of the cen-
sures the protest, i2:)so jure, and by the nature of things,
fell to the ground ; " and this the Pope feels to be an
extreme grievance, and Avon't stand to it in any way."
So the Cardinal had to endeavour to induce the Senate
to agree that the document in question should be
altered. He begged them to grant this out of consi-
deration for the honour of the king his master, and his
own reputation. He added that he knew that these
difficulties did not arise solely from the Pope himself,
but that he was incited and irritated by the ill offices
and miscliievous suggestions of those about him, espe-
cially of the Conte di Fuentes, who was offering all
the Spanish forces for the support of the ecclesiastical
dignity, declaring that he had thirty thousand men at
his service, the expense of whom had already been pro-
vided for. It was true, the Cardinal added, that the
draft of the revocation had been shown to him, but he
had not had time to think it over so maturely as to
have observed this point — that he thought that the
words had been "^ stato rivocato,'' and not ^'' e res-
tato." If they would only make this change, or if
they would only adopt one of the forms which they had
proposed and which he had rejected, namely, to say
" the censures having been taken off, we revoke, etc.,"
THE POPE AGAIX SUCCUMBS. 347
all would be well. Only consent to say " e stato " in-
stead of " e restato ! " Think of Fuentes and his
thirty thousand men ! Think of the indignation of the
Holy Father !
But Venice would not give up the offending syllable ;
and if the power of Spain for mischief had been as
great as her will, Europe would probably have been
plunged in war for the two letters, r, e, too much in a
state paper.
The Senate would have had no objection, the}' said,
to have worded the paper as wished in the first
instance ; indeed they had proposed one of the forms
now desired. But they could not make any alteration
in a public document already before the world and
recorded in their archives, at the suggestion of a foreign
power. The Cardinal in vain exhausted his eloquence.
Despite the papal indignation and Spain's thirty thou-
sand men, the Senate was immoveable ; and once more
Home had to knock under, and bear the mortification
as best she might.
And Paul, when he found that nothing more was in
any wise to be got, seems to have made up his mind to
put the best face upon the matter, and return to at
least outward demonstrations of courtesy towards tlie
kepublic. On the Uth of Juno, Contarini, the n(;w am-
l)assador, writes to the Senate an account of his arrival
at Rome and reception by the Pope; and we find from
it, tliat if Venice would not exult over her rcconciliulion
witli the Holy Father, Pvome was cither less Ijaughty,
or less sincere in the manifestation of licr feelings.
"My entry into the city took place," writes* Con-
• Storia Arcana (m1 AnccMotica <]' lUilia ; rnoconUito «l.-ii Vciicti AmK-ui-
ciatori. AnuoUU td EdiU da Falno Miitinclli. Vtnczia, 1858. Vol. iii.
p. 83.
348 PEACE WHERE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
tarini, " on the clay that I had tohl your lordships, and
was hailed hy Eome with great gladness, as was evident
from the concourse and ap[)lause of the people, and
from the many compliments which followed. The
company that escorted me into the city was extra-
ordinaril}^ numerous, there having been more than an
hundred carriages. Manj"- prelates of our nation, as
my Lord Bishop of Padua, and others, came out to
meet me, when I dined six miles before coming to the
gates. As I passed across the Campagna I met the
carriage of the Cardinal Borghese, with his chamber-
lain ; also that of the brothers of his Holiness, with
many gentlemen, and then one after the other the
carriages of several other cardinals. To all of them I
paid fitting compliments. Close to Ponte Molle I
found the Cardinals ])elfino and Mantica waiting for
me, with the rest of the Venetian prelates, and a large
number of gentlemen, who had come in the name of
the French ambassador, who likewise sent his carriage ;
as did also the ambassador of Spain. I regulated the
time and manner of my entrance according to the
advice of the most Illustrious Cardinal Delfino, who
has taken excessive pains to ensure the decorous and
creditable arrangement of the whole affair. His most
Illustrious Eminence himself appeared in a carriage
newly fitted up for the occasion at a great expense, and
with new liveries. The Pontiff, as I have been able to
learn from many sources, was very greatly pleased at
my arrival, having been anxious that it should take
place as soon as possible. Indeed, he waited for me
the very evening of mj'- arrival, wishing me to go to
him just as I was, with my boots on my feet. But
although I was urged to do this, as I was determined
not to depart in the slightest point from the instruc-
EECErTION OF THE AMB.VSSADOR. 319
tions given me by your Serene Highness, I chose to
allow a little delay to elapse, that I might get sure
information as to the manner in which I was to be
received. This I obtained from the French ambas-
sador, who came in person shortly after my arrival to
visit me. Having been assured by him that I should
be received exactly as other ambassadors have recently
been, I went the next evening with only my secretary
to Monte Cavallo, where the Pope is living at present,
my first formal and ordinary audience having been
previously assigned for the first Wednesday after the
Festa. The master of the chamber, and the persons
nearest to the person of the Pope, received me very
joyfully, as did also his Holiness himself, whom I
found alone in his chamber. When I had kissed his
foot, and his hand, which he extended to me, he arose
to embrace me, toucliing my face on either side. He
then made me rise from my knees and sit down."
Then followed the usual complimentary speeches on
both sides. And the formal audience, which took
place a few days later, consisted in fact of little else.
The only thing that was said at all remarkable was
the Pope's asscrti(^u that, " It was not that writings in
defence of the Kepublic should have been put fortli that
grieved us. On the contrary, ice iccre well pleased tJiat
the Henaie should atate ilte'ir arguments {\\\). Put the
introduction of false doctrine, tliis it was which caused
our displeasure, and which still is matter of grave
anxiety to us, although we are sure that it was not
done with the consent of the Picpublic." *
This volunteered statement of I'aul is worth notice,
both from the rare and monstrous audacity of the
* MutiucliJ, Op. cit, vol. iii. p. W.
350 PEACE WHEUE TlIEllE WAS NO PEACE.
falsehood, wliicli the utterer of it -well knew that the
hearer of it knew to he false ; and also for the motives
with which it was spoken. The terrihle friar was the
putter forth of the false doctrine, which had grieved
the Holy Father's heart. Rome could not forgive, and
had no intention of forgiving a friar, whose crime in
her e3'es combined sacrilege with spiritual parricide.
And the Holy Father's assurance, that his dear chil-
dren the senators of Venice could not have been con-
senting parties to such wickedness, though he knew
the exact nature of the connection between Sarpi and
the government, as well as the Doge knew it, was a
feeler towards a proposition, that the Senate should act
right royally, and cement its renewed friendship by the
sacrifice of an instrument no longer needful to it, to the
vengeance of the power he had provoked in its service.
The story of the celebrated Interdict is concluded.
Ptome had been beaten by the Republic on every point,
and the wounds she had received in the conflict were
in no wise healed by the re-establishment of peace.
*' Nova sint omnia et Vetera recedant," said Paul in the
course of his couleur-de-rose talk with the new Venetian
ambassador at his first audience. " Let us begin our
intercourse afresh, and let bygones be bygones."
Doubtless that was devoutly to be desii'ed by the
Pontiff and the Court of Rome. But it was a vain
hope. Venice might consent, and Rome might agree
that matters between them should stand as they had
stood before the contest. But no determination of any
government could avail to cancel what had passed, or
to avoid the infallible and lasting consequences of it.
Never again could the great weapon of the Interdict
be brouglit out for the coercion of disobedient nations.
The most powerful engine in Rome's arsenal was
EOME's damaged CONDITIOX. 351
broken and ruined irreparably. Like an old cannon
spiked, and known to be harmless by everybody, it
might still be displayed on the insecure battlements of
the Papal fortress, in the hope that some might still
be ignorant enough to be terrified by the look of it at
a distance. But no thought of really using it could
ever more be entertained. And it is not easy to
estimate the entire amount of the damage Rome has
suffered by the loss of it. The consequences in fact
amount to this : that the Papacy has had to abandon
all hope of contending openly with lay governments,
and to content itself with owing its sway over mankind
to corrupt complicity with lay tyranny. Despots have
found the alliance useful for the reasons pointed out in
the opening chapters of this volume. And the I'apacy
has contrived by this means to keep itself alive, though
with a steadily waning vitality, for more than two
centuries and a half. It might still continue to do so,
if it still had to deal with despotic rulers, and will do so
where such is still the case. But tiic game is up,
where it is brought into face-to-face collision witli the
people of nineteenth -century Europe. Of course
there are many designing men, clerical and lay, who
])rofess to think, and many good men who really think,
that a career of spiritual supremacy is still before the
Ptoman Papacy, wlien its temporal sway shall be
admittedly at an end. But those wlio have duly con-
sidered what " spiritual " sway really means, and who
liave also had the means of becoming ucfpiaintcd witli
the real condition of the popular iniinl i>\\ \]i<: subject
of what is called its " religion," will hardly be nf llmt
opinion. Such persons will be nioro likely to JK.ld
tliiit all Rome's spiritual supremacy is long since dead ;
that its variously exercised temporal power is in fact
852 TEACE WIIEKE TIIEIIE WAS NO PEACE.
all that still remains alive, and that when that comes
to an end, the old form and outline of tlie huge and
once so mighty figure will collapse, and fall to dust.
And Rome probably knew much better than either her
friends or her enemies the extent of the mischief she
had suffered in her duel with the civil power of Venice.
Such men as Bellarmine were not likely to be blind to
this, or to rate the true living spiritual power of the
Church at a much higher value than it really possessed.
And the bitter resentment and thirst of vengeance
which the Church felt against the traitor son, who had
been chiefly active in bringing this misfortune upon
her, was proportionate to her sense of its fatal nature.
The idea that a Servite Friar should have done all this,
not only with impunity, but with triumph, and should
enjoy consideration, honour, and high j^osition as the
reward of it, was altogether intolerable to the lloman
Court. The struggle between Rome and Venice was
over ; but not so that between Paul the Pope and Paul
the Friar. And though that portion of their history
which exercised a marked and lasting influence on
the history of mankind has been brought to a conclu-
sion, the story of the terrible friar's remaining years,
and of Rome's mode of carrying on the war, when its
scope was narrowed from contending with a powerful
commonwealth to avenging its smarts on an individual,
is well worth briefly telling.
CHAPTER lY.
The litigation of Rome v. Venice is decided ; — Imt that of Rome r. Sai-pi
remains. — Anathema is tried, and fails. — Prospects of Protestantism
in Italy. — Cajolerj' is tried against the Friar, and fails. — Cardinal de
Joyeuse again. — The new Nuncio, Berlinghiero Gessi. — Rome, finding
both curses and cajolery useless against the Friar, has recourse to
other means. — Letter from Trajan Boccalini to Sarpi. — Warning from
Gaspar Schioppius. — Sarpi's reply to these waraings. — Warnings from
the Venetiap ambassador at Rome. — Rutilio Orlandini. — Attempted
assassination of Sarpi in the streets of Venice.
" TiiK false doctrine that liad been put forth I" tliat
Avas the thorn, -which, according to Ids own statement,
permanently rankled in Paul's fatherly and apostolic
bosom. And assuredly Venice could have found no
means so eflicacious for winning her way Itack
thoroughly and cordially to the good graces of the
Pontiff, as aband(jning to his vengeance the terrible
friar, who Lad been the forger and by far the most
damaging utterer of this false doctrine.
A true and sincere friendship might have been made
over the ashes of the fire that should have exemlcd
Rome's judgment on a traitor jiriesl. It is probublo
that Paul was suHicicntly ignorant of the spirit that
animated the counsels of the P^epublic, to linpe that the
Senate might not have been unwilling lo make such
an exi)iatory sacrifice. Dnt he must have been KJiortly
undeceived as to any such expectation. 'I'licre was not
A A
35-J- PEACE WHERE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
the slightest chingcr to the Servite Friar on this score.
The consideration and respect in which he was held at
Venice seem on the contrar}^ to have gone on increas-
ing during the years that followed the great victory,
which had been so largely owing to his intrepidity,
learning, and firmness. There w^as no hope tliat any
punishment could be inflicted on the friar, while he
remained under the cegis of the Republic. But the
" glory of God " imperatively required that such an
enemy should not be allowed to escape vengeance.
" Vengeance is mine," saith the Lord. And persons
thought to be pious are constantly seeing proofs of the
truth of the assertion in falling chimney-pots and
stormy oceans. Were there then no " judgments" in
Venice ? Did Rome suppose that the vengeance of the
Lord was inexecutable within the limits of ♦the powers
of "the Ten?" Or did the Pontiff dream that God
was so careless of His own " Glory," that it needed to
be more vigilantly looked after by His faithful repre-
sentative ? It is perfectly true that Rome did every-
thing in her power to awaken and stimulate the lagging
vengeance of Heaven, before she became convinced of
the necessity of taking the matter into her own hand.
Special curses and excommunications were tried in
vain. Heaven took no notice of these denunciations of
the criminal. No thunder-bolt came ! None even of
those misfortunes apparently caused by more ordinary
human agencies, which so often are recognizable as
judgments only by the eye of faith ! Absolutely nothing
came of Rome's most energetic anathemas- And it
Ijecame urgent that God's vicegerent should take active
steps for the vindication of " His Glory."
The views taken by the Protestants in various parts
of Europe of the Interdict and its consequences, and
PKOSrECTS OF ITALIAN KELIGIOX. 355
tlie hopes which the great quarrel had led them to
conceive, contributed powerfully to impress on the
Papal Court tlie necessity of getting Sarpi into their
hands. The ideas which the contest between Rome
and the Venetian Republic had given rise to in En"^-
land, have been cursorily mentioned. At Geneva, and
other strongholds of Protestantism, similar hopes of a
Venetian schism, and of the consequent ruin of
Catholicism were rife. Eager propagandists hurried to
Venice, expecting to find it ripe for throwing off its
religious allegiance, and believing that the redoubtable
friar was ready to become the standard -bearer and
champion of Venetian Protestantism. These views and
hopes were utterly and entirely futile and unfounded ;
and reposed on a complete ignorance of the Italian
people and Italian natui'e.
As recent events have once again led to similar
hopes and expectations, it is interesting to note tliat
such was unquestionably the case then, and to point
out the strong reasons which exist for a conviction that
it is so still. An Italian author,* by no means friendly
to Catholicism, and very well qualified to sjjcak of the
progress of opinions and tendencies among his fillow-
countrymen, after having described tlie unmistakenblo
materialism of the old Paganism, and of its direct heir
and representative, modern Catholicism, writes thus : —
" The Italians have identified themselves with this
mode of religion. Cultivated men find in it the truth
there is in it, and the people find what is ngrecalilc to
them. But both the former and the latter approve it
as conformable to the national character. Au'i what-
ever may be the religious system wliich shall govern
* Biancbi Giorini, Vita di Sarpi, toI. i. p. 33.1.
A A 2
356 TExVCE WHERE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
our descendants twenty centuries hence, I venture to
affirm that the exterior forms of it Avill be pretty nearly
the same as those which prevail at present, and which
did prevail twenty centuries ago." The author who
ventures on this disheartening prophecy deems the
Italian nature so materialistic by constitution as to
be incapable of a spiritual appreciation of the invisible.
Nor does he seem to feel that he is making any humi-
liating confession on behalf of his race. My own
observations and reflections have not led me to any
such pessimist theory ; — a theory which, if I received
it, would in my mind necessarily lead to an expectation,
that the race unimprovably stamped with such in-
feriority of moral capabilities, would have to die out
and be replaced by a superior type of humanity.
Despite the undeniable truth of what this writer says
of the past twenty centuries of the religious history oi
Italy, I have better hope for the coming centuries.
But I do think, and every thoughttul Italian, with
whose views on such subjects I have had an oppor-
tunity of becoming acquainted, has confirmed me in
tlie opinion, that the influences of nature, among
which the Italian lives and grows, do produce in him a
constitution of mind adverse to the reception of the
doctrines, which impart to those forms of Protestantism
common among us their peculiar form and colour.
To this must be added in estimating the probabilities
of the immediate future, an influence, which, tliough^it
may not affect future centuries, must necessarily exert
a very strong action on more than one generation. It
is the influence of reaction. A pendulum lifted up in
one direction does not, when liberated from control,
fall back at once into its normal position of repose,
but rushes to an opposite extreme point equally re-
VENICE ATTACHED TO CATHOLICISM. 357
moved from it. Tlie Italians are very rapidly finding
out, that the only religious belief that has been taught
them, is an immoral and incredible mass of falsehood.
And the state of mind produced by the discovery is
not a favourable one for the reception of a new teach-
ing, which equally, though not to an equal extent, de-
mands the exercise of unquestioning faith.
But two centuries and a half ago in Venice, although
the best minds had already entered on a path which was
sure to lead them, or the inheritors of their specu-
lations, to unbelief, scepticism had made but little
progress among the people. It was of no use for learned
Protestant writers to point out that their conduct in
the late quarrel with the Pontiff necessarily showed
that they were not good Catholics ; that logic, consist-
enc}', and Pomish teaching itself, made it clear that
they were far advanced on the road to Protestantism.
The Venetian traders, and navigators, and gondoliers,
did not care about logic, or consistency, or Romish
tlieories. But they liked masses, and wax lights, and
chantings, and processions, comfortable absolution for
their sins, and old habitual sights, sounds, and feelings.
Home need have given herself little trouble about
schismatic tendencies among the \'<netian population,
as long as she did not interfere with matters more
dear to them than all these things. But the persist-
ent and clamorous praises showered on Snrpi by the
Protestants irritated Pome against him; and i)romptcd
her, as has been said, to abate tlie scandal of u hetero-
dox friar living and writing in defiance of in i-.
Then again, tlie additional honours hrnpcti on Sarpi
by the Senate, after the conclusion of tlie contest, were
felt by tlie Papal Court as a sore afi'ront. and n stinnilus
to its hatred and persecution. The friar was nanu'd
35 S TEACE WIIEEE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
not only Consultor to the Republic in theology, but also
in juri^pruclence ; an ajDpointment carrying with it nn
addition of salary. But a far more significant and
rare nuuk of the Senate's confidence and esteem, and
one much more valued by Sarpi himself, was a free
and unlimited admission to the secret archives of the
state. This was in Venice a very extraordinary and
signal mark of favour. The secrecy of the archives
in question was maintained wdth the utmost jealousj'.
None but the chancellors and secretaries of state were
permitted to enter this sanctum of the Republic, and
those officers only under the most solemn oaths of
secrecy. All these favours to Sarpi were felt at Rome
as so many special insults.
The terrible friar must be brought to Rome ! Not
perhaps necessarily for the rude vengeance of the exe-
cutioner. A retractation, humble, ample, and public,
of all that he had asserted, argued, and advised, would
have suited Rome's purpose better even than the
salutary example of the stake. A degradation of him-
self sufficiently abject might even have induced the
Holy See, after ample enjoyment of the pleasure of
imposing penances and discipline of all sorts, to take
the penitent to her bosom, put him, may be, in lier
high places, and turn the pen perhaps of this grinding
Samson to do work of her own. But for this, or for
any of it, the terrible friar must be got to Rome. And
how was that to be accomplished ?
The first and most simple way was to cause him to
be summoned thither by the superiors of his order.
He was invited to Rome " to justify himself; " and it
was intimated to him that he would not find the matter
difficult ; that Rome was quite disposed to complete
her reconciliation with the Republic, in a paternal
SAEPI INVITED TO ROME. 359
spirit; and that the Pontiff himself was well inclined
towards him. But tlie friar was not thus to he caught.
He knew the Papal Court, and the nature of tlie pater-
nal spirit that animated it, right well ; no man hetter :
and he declined to put his neck into the halter. How
he canonicall}' justified to himself and others direct
disobedience to his ecclesiastical superiors, remains to
be guessed? Perhaps the Senate, which had no mind
to be deprived of the services of its invaluable theo-
logical consultor, interposed a friendly prohibition.,
and refused to allow him to leave the Venetian territory.
Sarpi replied, that general accusations of " heretical
tendencies," and of expressions calculated " to offend
pious ears," might mean anything or nothing, and
could not be replied to. But he offered, if the Inqui-
sition would draw up a definite statement of any here-
tical positions in his writings (such, for instance, as the
therewith enclosed specimens of direct heresy, drawn
by him from the writings of Rome's defenders in the
late disputes, and shown to be heretical by clear and
sufficient proofs from Scripture, fathers, councils,
&c., duly cited as per margin), then ho. Friar Paul,
of Venice, would submit to be judged on the same by
any impartial triljuiial ! (surely the ascetic friar
himself must have smiled grimly as ho wrote this),
sitting in some country where intimidation and undue
inlluence were not to be suspected.
It need hardly bo said that the Roman (!ourt took
no sort of step towards complying with these very
simple and ea^y demands. But they jxrHisted m
attempts to lure Sarpi to Rome by every sort of llat-
tery and persuasion,— attempts wiiicli they nsHurcdiy
would not have condescended to, had they known liim
half as well as he knew them.
360 PEACE WHEKE THERE WAS KO PEACE.
Before Cardinal dc Joycuse left Yenice, he sent to
Sar})i an intimation that he wished for a conference with
him. Signor Bianchi Giovini remarks, that the Cardinal
had shown himself so genuinely friendl}^ to Venice, and
so loyal in his capacit}' of mediator, that it is hardly to be
sui:)posed that he w^ould have abased his " blood royal "
to the office of luring a man to his destruction by false
statements, or of seeking to abuse the privacy of a tkc-d-
tttc conversation, to represent traitorously what should
take place at it. But the Cardinal w'as a churchman.
And Sarpi and the Venetian Senate suspected that his
object in demanding tliis interview was, or at all events
might be, the second, if not the first of those above
mentioned. " I am but a poor friar," argued Sarpi,
" and he is a Cardinal connected by blood with his most
Christian Majesty. Ilis statement of what has passed
between us two, — (a qitattro ocelli, — between four eyes,
as the Italian phrase has it), — will have more weight
before the world than mine. How infinite would be
the mischief if it should be believed, that I had ad-
mitted myself to have been in error; that I had asked
absolution, or made submission of any sort ; that I
had even expressed regret for what has passed ! "
Sarpi represented 'these misgivings to the College ;
and it was decided that he should decline to wait upon
the Cardinal.
Meanwhile the new Nuncio came to Venice. The
man selected for the somewhat difficult embassy was one
Berlinghiero Gessi, Bishop of Rimini ; he was one of
the seven sages, who five-and-twenty years after this
time, condemned that damnable heresy of Galileo, that
the sun stands still, and the earth moves round it !
Paul gave the new Nuncio prudent counsels before he
started, as to the necessity of gentleness and caution
SARPI DECLINES THE HONOUIJ. 8G1
in dealing with the Eepublic. The burned Pope
dreaded the fire. But Paul ardently longed to have
his enemy in his hands. He directed his Nuncio to
leave no stone unturned to induce the Senate to
deliver hira over to the Holy Office, or at least to get
his x>osition and stipend taken away from him. Gessi
began his endeavours by seeking, as the Cardinal had
done, an interview with the friar. But he took no
more by his motion than his more dignified predecessor
had taken. By direction of the College, Sarpi refused
to see the Nuncio.
For a long time no churchman of rank from Rome
passed through Venice without finding an opportunity
for an interview with Sarpi. Every kind of promise
was held out to him — promotion, honours, red hats,
and what not — if he would only meet in a kindred
spirit tlie paternal Pope's advances, and go to Rome
to be reconciled to the Church. But it was all of no
use. The friar was not to be had ! All Rome's blan-
dishments only sounded in his ears, " Friar, friar, come
and be burned ! " So the friar continued to divide his
hours between the duties of his office at the ducal
palace and his quiet cell in tlie Scrvite convent. And
Home found that for the greater " glory of God," it
was necessary to have recourse to stronger measures
for tlie suppression of this terrible adversary.
At the beginning of the contest with Rome, Sai*pi
liad consulted liis friend Trajan Boccalini, the cole-
Ijrated satiric writer, wlio, a few years after tlie period
of which we are speaking, IkhI liimself to quit Home
and seek refuge at Venice, because liis life was in
danger under the j)apal government. liorcalini had
at that time pointed out to his friend all the danger to
be apprehended from tlie course on which he was then
3G2 PEACE AVIIEllE TIIEKE WAS KO PEACE.
entering, and counselled caution and prudence. Tho
same tried frieud, and very competent judge of Rome
and its doings, shortly after the conclusion of the
quarrel, wrote to Sarpi as follows : —
" Your Reverence must remember that you liave
offended with your tongue, with your pen, and with
your counsels, a Pope, a College of Cardinals, an
Apostolic court, and a Holy See. And if all these
forgive, why we may expect to see the Gentiles embrace
the Gospel. For heaven's sake be on your guard ; for
the Court of Rome is bent on taking from Venice its
defender, cost what it may. Priests have long arms,
for no place is shut against them ; and a blow is given
before aught is heard of it. I speak with freedom,
because I love you, and your life is necessary to the
world, and precious to your friends."
Other warnings followed. Gaspar Schioppius, who
had been to Rome on business connected with the
German Protestants, and had had secret conferences
with the Pope, saw Sarpi on passing through Venice,
and told him to be on his guard. The Pope's hand
was for reaching, he said ; and added that Paul could
have taken his life, but that he was anxious to have
him alive. He concluded by offering to be the medi-
ator between them. Sarpi replied that he had only
defended a just cause; — that the conditions of the
reconciliation, solemnl}' agreed to by the Pope, included
himself as well as others in the general amnesty ; and
that he could never believe that Paul would break the
faith thus publicly pledged. Be that as it might, he
added, his life was in God's hands; and even if Paul
should succeed in getting him into his power alive, his
hfe would still be in his own hand, and not in that of
the Pope.
SIGNS OF DANGER. 3GS
This hint at suicide as a means in the last resort of
avoiding torment, and the chance of saying under the
pressure of it that -which he would rather die than
sa}', has given rise to much dehate and questioning vn
the part of Sarpi's admirers and detractors.
Still further indications of danger followed. The
Venetian ambassador at Rome, Contarini, wrote to the
Ten, on the 29th of September, that a certain Eutilio
Orlandini had left Rome for Venice for the purpose of
committing some crime. This man had begun life as
a friar, had been expelled his convent, had been a
highway robber, and being now banned at Rome, lived
in the police-proof asylum of the Duke Orsini's palace.
It was known to the ambassador that this man had
boasted that he was to go to Venice by the order of
" the masters here," (at Rome, that is,) that he was to
engage companions for the job to be done there, and
that he had been promised 50,000 crowns for the exe-
cution of it. He boasted, too, of having had secret
conference with the Pope ; and showed an absolution
which he declared to have been given him by the
Pontiff in person. This seems to liave been con-
sidered as doubtful; but it was certain, that he had
large sums of money, tliat he was in possessiim of
an absolution, and that he had had frequent inter-
views with one of the secretaries to the " Consultn,"
and that on going to this (jflicer he was always im-
mediately admitted. If this man was sent to Venice
to commit a crime, he was unsuccessful. For in con-
sequence of the facts written by Contarini, lie \\nn
arrested as soon as he jiut foot on the territory of
Venice. But Contarini warned the Ten tliat lie Imd
information of other emissaries having been disputtrlird
to Venice.
36-1. PEACE WIIEEE Til EKE WAS NO PEACE.
Even tlie Venetian Inquisitors became acquainted in
some way with facts, Avliich induced them to Avarn the
friar to be careful. But nothing could induce Sarpi to
believe, low as he esteemed the morality of the Roman
Court, that the Holy Father was about to descend to
the level of a common assassin. He, however, com-
plied so far with the urgent wishes of his friends, as
to cause himself to be accompanied by three friars, in
his daily walk from his convent to the ducal palace,
and home again in the evening. But it so happened
that on the evening of the 5tli of October, 1607, the
friends, wlio w^ere to have called for him as usual to
walk back with him from the jmlace, were detained,
and arrived there too late, after the friar had started
homewards. He had with him, however, his servant,
Fra Marino, a lay-brother of the convent, and the
patrician Malipero, an infirm old man. As the three
were passing a bridge in the neighbourhood of the
convent, it chanced that Malipero w'as a few paces in
front. Suddenly they were attacked by a band of
several ruffians, of whom one collared the old patrician,
another seized the lay-brother round the bod)^ pinioning
him securely, while a third dealt a shower of poniard
stabs on the person of the friur. Of these, three only
Avounded him, two in the neck, and one which passed
into the head behind the ear, and came out at the root
of the nose on the same side of the face. The dagger
remained firmly fixed in the bones of the face ; and
Sarpi fell to the ground as if dead. Some women,
who had seen the deed from a neighbouring window,
raised an alarm ; and people were soon on the spot.
But on the fall of Sarpi, the two men who had held the
old senator, Malipero, and the lay-brother, liberated
them ; and the whole of the gang, firing their pieces in
SARPI ASSAULTED. 3fi5
the air to create alarm, and increase the confusion,
succeeded in escaping.
Old Malipero was the first to reach Sarpi, as he lay
to all appearance dead on the bridge. He drew the
dagger from the wound ; and perceiving that the friar
still breathed, had him immediately taken to his cell,
in the convent close at hand.
CHAPTEPt Y.
"Wlio were the assassins ? — The escape of most of the gang. — The story of
the matter current at the time. — Antecedents of Poraa. — Commotion
caused hy the assassination in Venice, — Measui-es of the Government.
— Proclamation for the arrest of the assassins. — Measures taken fcr
Sarpi's future safety. — Rome offended by the terms of the procKama-
tion by the Senate. — Subsequent life and adventures of Poma. — Steps
taken by Rome to avert tlie suspicions of I-Jurope. — Disputes at Rome
— General feeling there. — Death of Poma. — Otlier conspiracies again.st
the life of Sarpi. — His remaining years, and death. — Death of Paul V.
— Conclusion.
Sarpi did not die. After several montlis' illness,
during the first three weeks of which he lay hovering
between life and death, the terrible friar was entirely
healed. And all that Rome gained by the atrocious
attempt, was the general indignation and disgust of
Europe, and tlie addition to the fearfully long catalogue
of one more hideous crime, never more to be cancelled
from the memory of histor3% or from the still to be
settled account of humanity against the Papacy.
Were there nothing more to be added to the story
than what has been alreadj' told, no unbiassed examiner
of the evidence could hesitate to deem the Papal Court
convicted of the crime. Indeed the public opinion,
and the public voice of Europe, as far as such a voice
could then make itself audible, did not hesitate, even
with less evidence than that which has been already
WHO WERE THE ASSASSINS ? 367
placed before the reader, to pronounce tlie Apostolic (!)
Church guilty of the foul deed. But it was questioned,
and subsequent writers have taken pains to investigate
which were tlie exact mouths of the sacerdotal hier-
archy, that spoke the order to " go and do murder."
It has been thought worth while to endeavour to show
that Pope Paul, the absolute infallible Vicar of Christ
himself, was not with his own lips the suborner of
assassination. Men are slow to believe that he should
be so. The imagination finds it difficult to picture to
itself a venerable looking old man, who is wont to have
words of piety and charitj' on his lips, scattering
Apostolic blessings from the jewelled finger of one soft
hand, while he is clutching the assassin's dagger
beneath his sacred robe with the other. Such a
benignant Pope too ! That decorous old twaddler,
Morosini, tells us a great deal about Paul Borghese's
henifjn'ity. It was his strong point! A scholar, too,
and one who had "learned* ingenious arts, which
civilise men, and do not permit of their becoming
brutes !" Are we to suppose such a man the instigator
and accomplice of a cut-tliroat?
The reader of history will not expect that cvidenro
should exist, which brings home to Paul Borghcso the
giving of the order to murder Sarpi. jSIonarclis do
not commit their crimes in that manner. Decency, —
the quod dccct, what looks well — decency, that primnry
virtue of courts, has to be observed. Is a courtier,
especially an ecclesiastical one, fit for liis position, who
cannot tell wben tlic commission of a crime is needed,
— for reasons of state ; and far more for tlio glory of
• The poet's dictnin, however, and the humiinininK cfTccUi of intcllMiaal
culture, may be uaintnined \>j insiHting on the adrcrh in the tcit. " Did!-
cesse delUer," says Ovid.
3GS TEACE WHERE TIIEliE WAS NO TEACfi.
God, — without requiring the lips of liis master to be-
come indecent, by coarsely speaking out the order?
Most courts, and far above all others the Apostolic
Court, are peopled with far better bred lackeys than
this !
But it will be seen (if indeed it signified much to
show, that not only the Eoman Court, but its holy and
infallible head himself, was guilty of connivance at
murder) that it can be shown that Paul undoubtedly
protected the murderers after the deed.
The assassins had a boat in waiting at the Lido to
secure their immediate escape from the territory of
Venice. But it so happened, that in the confusion of
their flight several of the gang failed to join the others
at the landing-place, and thus got left behind. The
consequence was, that before tlie next morning some
of these men were in the hands of the " Ten," and
the names of the chiefs of the conspiracy ascertained
from their confession. The leader of the band, — he
who had undertaken the job, and had procured the
assistance of the others,_was one Ptidolfo Poma. Signer
Bianchi Giovini has been at much pains to trace, from
the dispatches of the Venetian ambassadors at Rome
and Naples, and other previously unexplored sources,
the antecedent history of this man and his subsequent
fortunes. This impartial writer thinks that the old
current accounts, based on the statements of Sarpi's
earliest biographer, Grissellini, and De Thou, were in
great part erroneous. Those authors state, that the
murder was compassed by the Jesuits, who employed
one of their body, the noted Possevin, to find instru-
ments to execute it ; — together with other circum-
stances, wliich are of minor consequence, but which
are unquestionably erroneous. The main facts which
ANTECEDENTS OF POMA. 3G9
appear to result from Signor Bianchi Giovini's re-
searches ma}' be summed up as follows : —
This Poma was an oil merchant, tradiiif^ between
the coast of Puglia and Venice. His affairs went ill ;
he became a bankrupt, and a ruined man. Travellinfr
to Naples for the purpose of endeavouring to get in
some debts due to him in that city, he fell in at Rome
with one Alessandro Franceschi, a priest, who had
formerl}' acted as a broker for him in liis commerce.
This priest, who had gone to Rome, like so many thou-
sand others, to find or make his fortune in some wav,
deemed it a good mode of suiting himself to the times
to pretend that he was an exile, who had been driven
from Venice for refusing to disregard the Interdict.
It is known that he frequented the antechambers of the
Cardinal Borghese, the Pope's nephew, and of Mon-
signore Metello Bichi, Bishop of Sovana, and auditor
to the Pope. This vagabond miscrupuloiis priest
brought the bankrupt oil-merchant into communication
witli both these high-placed churchmen. It is also known
tliat Poma liad frequent interviews witli a certain pro-
vincial of the convent of Dominican friars at Venice.
No record, as may be imagined, remains of the conver-
sations of the broken-down trader with these eminent
and riglit reverend personages. But it is on record,
that al)out the same time he began to write to his
iriends in Venice of the fine prospects that were open-
ing before him ; — that Ik; sliould sofui be richer tlian
he had ever been; — tliat tho Cardinal Uorgliese was
going to make his and his children's fortinie, kr.
Poma consumed four months after tins in nuifiiring
bis plans. His project was, according to tliednTdions
given to liim, to seize the friar alive, ciivcIoih' jiiui in
n sack, hurry him into a boat, and rarry him nlT to tliu
n D
•nO PEACE WIIEllE THEIlli AVAS NO PEACK.
first port in tlie ecclosinsticiil, states. Failing in tliis,
he was to take liis life. lie returned well supplied
with money to Venice, and went thence to Padua;
where the execution of the plan seems to have been
discussed and settled with certain priests attached to a
convent in that city, in which a daughter of Poma was
a nun. The scheme was to seize the friar when he
should he on his way to Padua, to visit his friends the
professors in the University there, as he Avas wont to do
from time to time. But in consequence of the various
warnings that had been received, Sarpi no longer
left Venice for any purpose. The scheme was found
hopeless, and Poma determined to execute his orders
in the streets of Venice ; — with the results which we
have seen.
The consternation and indignation caused through-
out Venice by the news of the assassination were ex-
traordinar}'. The Senate, who vvere sitting when the
tidings reached them, immediately adjourned. Almost
all the members hurried to the Servite convent to in-
quire personally after the wounded man. The Ten alone
remained in the hall of assembh^ to concert measures
on the instant for the apprehension of the assassins.
The whole city was moved to a degree, which very sig-
nificantly marks the feeling of the people in the recent
contest with Piome. The theatres were empty that
night; and a vast crowd surrounded the Servite convent,
anxious for the tidings, hour after hour, of the state of
the sufferer, and the expectations of the physicians. The
outcry against Piome and its agents was fierce and
universal. Another large crowd surrounded the house
of the Nuncio, and would have infallibly burned it
down, if the Ten had not sent troops in all haste for
its protection. Neither the Nuncio nor any one be-
IIESULTS OF THE ASSAULT. 371
longing to Lis family (^u-otl to leave the lumse for
man}' days.
The care of the government for their wounded theo-
logian was not less extraordinary and significant of tlie
esteem in which they held liim. Money in abundance
was sent to the convent, in order that nothing it could
purchase might be wanting. Intelligence of the cir-
cumstance was immediately despatched to all the Vene-
tian residents at foreign courts, as if the matter were
felt to be an affair of public importance. The most
famous surgeons in Italy were summoned, and the
celebrated Acquapendente, the physician, and Spigelio,
a not less renowned surgeon, were ordered not to leave
the convent till they could pronounce him out of
danger. Besides these, ten other medical men were
called to assist them with their counsel. And never-
theless the friar recovered ! And it is not a mere
silly jest against medical science to say so. Ignorance
was then the rule, and sense and knowledge rare ex-
ceptions. And in Sarpi's case the multi[>licity uf
mc.lical adviser.s forced on him by the solicitude of the
Senate was a veritable allliction. Some would have it
that the dagger was poisoned, and drenched their pa-
tient with a variety of absurd antidotes. Others in-
sisted that there was danger of gangrene, and Inid
recourse to the knife. Sarpi submitted without a
murmur to all they chose to do to him, and listened with
the most perfect equanimity to varying predictions and
disputes as to the probable termination of Win sick-
iKss. Iv»(!n his wonted facetionsncss did not desert
him. I'or it is recorded that, when Acfjinipcndcnt'!
remarked tliat he luid never seen a ruder wound.
" and yet," said tlie friar, " the world dechireH that ii
was given * stiilo Jlnmantr cur'ur. ' — \n the «ti/le nf, or
II n 2
372 PEACE WHERE THERE WAS KO PEACE.
with the dagger of the Rommi court." The joke is a
better one in Italian than it can he made to appear in
English.* It is added that this was the only allu-
sion Sarpi ever made by word or by pen to the
authorship of the assassination.
Sai'pi, as has been said, recovered entirely ; and
Acquapendcnte, the chief physician, received from the
Senate, as a recompense for having saved so valuable
a life, knighthood, and a silver cup of thirty ounces
with the winged lion of St. Mark engraved on it.
The efforts made by the Ten to cause the arrest of
the assassins were such as had never been resorted to
before. The names of all of them were published,
and the enormous reward of four thousand ducats pro-
mised, beside other advantages, to whosoever should
take Poma cither alive or dead. Two thousand ducats
for any other of the gang. It was made a capital
crime for any one to know and not reveal the hiding-
place of any of them. The sentence pronounced
against them, in case of capture, was that they should
be taken to the spot on which the crime was com-
mitted, and there lose their right hands ; that they
should be draira'ed thence at horses' tails to the
columns of St. Mark, there be decapitated, and finally
quartered ! The most rigorous orders were despatched
to every magistrate in the Venetian dominions to spare
no exertions to accomplish the arrest of any one of the
gang.
For the future it was commanded that every Vene-
lian, in case of any renewed attempt against the friar,
should lend assistance on the instant, and strike
"viithnut respect to place or person." And two thou-
* BiancLi Giovini, Op. cit., vol. ii. p. 10.
PRECAUTIONS OF THE SENATE. 373
sand ducats were awarded to any man who should so
kill on the spot an assassin, and four thousand to him
who should take one alive. Four hundred additional
ducats annually were voted to Sarpi to enable him to
keep a private gondola, and otherwise provide for his
safety. Lodgings on the Piazza St. Mark were pro-
vided for him in immediate contiguity with the ducal
l)alace, in order that it might not be necessary for him
to traverse the city for his daily attendances on the
government. But Father Paul desired to be excused
from receiving these four hundred ducats, begging the
Doge, in his letter on this subject, to add to the infi-
nite favours he had received from the State, that of
believing that he was more than contented with what
had already been done for him. It was found, more-
over, impossible to induce him to quit the convent cell
in which he had passed his life ; and the govcnnnent
in consequence caused certain additions to be made to
it, and a private passage and secret stair to be con-
structed, by which he could pass from his cell to his
gondola without being seen by any one.
In the public proclamations respecting these matters
the Senate had styled Sarpi " a man of excellent learn-
ing and exemplary virtue, who has deserved eminently
well of the State, and is greatly beloved by us." And
the penalties and threats were pronounced against
" any person or persons of whatsoever grade or con-
dition they may be." These two passages gave
grievous oflfence at liome. In the first i)lacp, it was
said that to qualify publicly one whom the Apostolic
Sec had severely censured, and uli'> bad written in
fierce opposition to it and its doctrines, as a man of
exceeding learning and virtue, was a flagrant iuHult to
the Pope and the lI'>lyS(f. In thf: second place, it
''ihii PEACE AVllEKE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
was alleged with singular audacity that to threaten
persons of any condition mcluded threats against eccle-
siastical persons; tliat the phrase seemed indeed
specially to have that intention — as indeed was trulj''
the case, the Senate having chosen the phrase ex-
pressly with that view ; and that this was re-opening
the so recently closed dispute. But it would seem as
if Paul had forgotten that the Ptepublic most expressly
reserved and re-asserted its right to punish ecclesi-
astical offenders. And it is impossible not to smile at
the readiness of the Holy See to see, in a proclamation
against future assassins of Sarpi, a probability that
churchmen might find themselves threatened.
The extraordinarily energetic proclamation of the
Senate had the effect, as may be readily understood,
of making the subsequent lives of Poma and his asso-
ciates precarious and wretched. Four thousand ducats
to be earned at any moment hj a dagger stroke was
more than sufficient to arm against him half the popu-
lation of the Roman states. No sooner was the pro-
mise of this enormous reward known, than some of his
companions in the crime plotted to take his life. His
first refuge was Ancona. He there received from the
priest Franceschi, from Rome, a bill of exchange for a
thousand ducats, ivhich was imid hy one Girolamo
Scalamonti, the Poises agent in Ancona. It was re-
marked also, and is worth recording, that two others
of the gang who attacked Sarpi, Ancona men who for
previous crimes had been outlawed in that city, re-
turned thither openly, and were not only permitted to
remain there unmolested, but were suffered to go about
armed to the teeth, notwithstanding the laws to the
contrary, which were generally strictly enforced, Poma
and the rest were always similarly armed ; and it was
CAREER OF TOilA. 375
understood that tliey had express permission to be so
from the governor of Aucoua.
The}" did not attempt to make any secret of the
attempted murder ; but decLu-ed that they had been
moved to it " by Divine inspiration,",^and zeal for the
service of religion Yet Poma at the same time
boasted that he should shortly be rich enough to pay
all his creditors in full, and actually gave directions for
calling them together by the public crier.
After a iev: weeks' stay at Ancona, they went to
Borne, and were received in the house of the Cardinal
Colonna. The Pope declared tliat they should not
be permitted to remain for an hour in Home. l>ul,
in fact, they remained there more than a year ; at
first with some all'ectation of secresy, but altcrwards
openly, and showing themselves frequently in public
places.
In the meantime, the outcry of indignation and dis-
sust which was raised from one end of Europe to the
other against the Roman Court — (for it docs Hot seem
to have entered into the head of any body to doubt for
an instant that the crime was committed at the instiga-
tion of the Holy Sec) — began to cause much tnicasincss
and alarm in the papal councils. It v.as decided in a
Consistory of Cardinals to spread a statement to the
effect that Poma had attempted to assassinate the Ser-
vite, because he attributed to him the ruin of his mer-
cantile affairs. But as this appeared to tlioir Eminences,
on second thoughts, too palpably absurd an assertion
to serve their turn, thf-y changed their minds, and gave
out the report (assuredly no less nionstrously incrc»UI)lo
to all who bad any knowledge of Sarpi, and this in-
cluded at least every man in Venice), that the Initred
of Poma for the Scrvite arose from jealousy respecting
370 PEACE WIIEKE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
some woniiiii ! ! ! Tlie l*upe liimself mciiinvhile uttered
no syllable on the subject to the Venetian ambassador ;
but told the French resident that he deplored the cir-
cumstance, admitting that it would not be displeasing
to him that Sarpi should be chastised, but not by such
means. But, at the same time, ho sought the inter-
position of the King of France with the Venetian
govei'nment, to obtain from them a suppression of all
further inquiry into the matter.
Much ditlerence of opinion and debate arose in Rome
as to the policy of protecting the assassins, — the more
moderate men fearing the odium and disgrace of ap-
pearing before Europe as the patrons of wretches
who had become tlie objects of universal horror and
loathing ; while the more thorough-going partisans of
papal doctrines and papal pretensions maintained
loudly that the Papacy was bound to support and
protect the meritorious slayers of a heretic. And the
Bishop of Molfetta, on one occasion, in the ante-
chamber of Cardinal Borghese, maintained, in reply
to some one who objected that Sarpi was not fairly
an object for the dagger of an assassin, because he
liad not been publicly declared a heretic, that " it was
sulHcient that he was considered such by the Court of
Eome." But amid all these differences of ojunion
there was entire accord, according to the report of the
Venetian ambassador, among the frequenters of the
Pioman ante-chambers in regret that the blow of Poma's
dagger had not been fixtal.
Nevertheless, the Pope seems to have felt some
shame at the continued protection afforded at Ptome to
criminals, against whom all the rest of the world was
crying aloud. He therefore ordered the Nuncio at
Naples to obtain a permission from the Spanish
poma's misekable end. .377
vicero}' for Poma and the others to reside in safet)' in
his dominions. And a revenue of 1000 crowns a yeai-,
to be pa3'iible out of certain ch\ims which the H0I3'
See had on the Neapolitan government, was assigned
to them. The men went, in fact, to Napk's. But the
promised money was not forthcoming ; they found that
their lives were in hourly danger, even from each other ;
and after a short absence they slunk back again to Rome,
to their old asylum in the Colonna palace. For awhile
Poma continued to live on upon means doled out to
liim more and more sparingly by his patrons among
the Jesuits and Cardinals. He and the i)riest Fran-
ceschi, who had also fallen into abject poverty, got up
a plan for a new attempt on the friar's life ; and some
advances of money were obtained on the strength of it.
Put it came to nothing. Poma's condition became
niure and more wretched. lie grew desperate ;
grumbled ; uttered imprudent words ; the consequence
was that the ofiicers of the police came one morning to
the Cardinal Colonna's palace, and notwithstanding tlie
inviolability of that asylum toolc liim prisoner, and
carried him off to the fortress of Civita N'cccliia, where
he ended ere long his miserable days.
There were otiier conspiracies for the purpose of
destroying a man who had become more hateful to
liome tlian probably any other individual i:i any age,
fomented and patronised more or less clcai'ly by nu'ii
ill bigh 2)laces at Pome. But they failed of success;
and served only to nnirk the enduring vindictivencss of
sacerdotal enmity.
Of the remaining years of the terrible friar's useful,
lionoured, and laborious life, occupied unceasingly in
the service of \'enice and numkind till he died at the
at^e of seventy on the ].">th of Jinmiuy. muttering in
378 PEACE WllEllE THERE WAS NO PEACE.
liis death-stupor, as has been \vritten at the beginning
of this vohiuie, " I must go to St. Mark, for it is hite,
and I have much to do ;" of his many writings, and of
the tendency and results of them ; there woukl be much
to be said, if these pages professed to be a biography of
Fra Paolo.
Something, too, might be written of the remaining
days of our other Paul, the Pope. He died just
about a year before the friar. His work, also, was no
trifling contribution to the advancement of humanity.
For the Papacy has never recovered the loss of power
and prestige inflicted on it by the rash and imprudent
violence which disclosed its impotence. It is to Pope
Paul V. that we owe the first demonstration of the
decay and worthlcssness of Rome's once terrible and
dreaded weapon. For the rest, there is the magnificent
Borghese chapel, with its tons of precious marbles in
the Lateran, and all the Borghese greatness, and the
Borghese wealth — not altogether without their useful-
ness, these things also, in helping forward the system
which generated them to its consummation.
But the story of the two Pauls in their relationship to
each other, the story of the Interdict, and of its imme-
diate consequences has been told— of its most imme-
diate consequences only ! For the catalogue of its more
distant, though equally lineally descended results, could
not stop short of the events that are passing around us.
Pome in her present agony of distress and wrath, and
in the extremity of her need, dare not put her hand to
the weapon which broke so disastrously in that of
Paul V.
NOTES.
Note 1. — Page 154. Aoostino Naki.
Agostino Kani, born in 1555, and therefore just fifty years of age at the
time iu question, was one of the most distinguished citizens of the lie-
[lublic. lie was a man of vast eruditiun ; and had passed most of his life
in serving the State in various embassies ; in 1586 to Savoy ; in 151*4 to
Spain; in ICOO to Constantinople; in 1004 to Rome; in 1612 to the
Gennan Emj-eror. The jjistory of the quarrel with Home abundantly
shows with what unflinching firmness, prudence, and courage, he executed
the very difficult duty confided to him, and upheld the interests and
dignity of the Kepublic during tlie whole of the struggle. Tiiut his resi-
dence iu the I'oiuan Court, and his experience of ils ways, only tended to
confirm him in his own views of matt^irs ecclesiastical, is pioved by a
jiassage from .a letter writt<.'n to Rome in 1'115, by the thr-n Nuncio at
Venice, in which he says that "many of the Council have been jwrvertwl
(i.e. to anti-papal opinions) by Vrii Paolo and Agoatino Naiii." See Ci/rrer,
Paolo v., e la JUjk Vch,, J). 1 note
Note 2.— Page 104. Paolo Quinto i: i.a REiauuci Vi:ni:ta.
The full title of the work referred to, Note 1 and htrc, in, " Paul V, and
the Republic of Venice; a journal from the 22nd Uct-'bcr, I'U).'., to I ho
9th of Juno, 1607. Illustrated by Not4M and D»cumenU extn»ct««l from
the Imp. library of Vie na, the Marciana library, the Corrcr M nd
the Archives at the Prari in Venice, by Henry Cornet, Viiiu. , '.
The learned and very competent editor oi" this cxlrcmily inlerwling con-
temporary diary has prefixed to it » lucid and oblc ■uroinnry of tb' qtiirrcl
between Pope Paul and the lUpublic, pp. 1 — 10 ; ha<i accompanied the
text by a large runnin;; commrnlary of illu»lraliTc fi>ot note*, pp. 1 — .C'i ;
and has added a mow of highly imporUnt documoiita, pp. 265—389.
The publication of -M. Cornet bos rgndcrcl ea«y to Him romleri a perfooi
•iSO NOTES.
c>>raprehension of tliis eventful page of history, only to have l)ecn pre-
viously attained by long and laborious researches, equal in extent to those
of which he has given us the fruit.
Note 3. — The College of the Senate. Page 172,
The terms CoUeqio and Pieno GolJegio, constantly recur in the Venetian
historians. The "full College " or Fien' Coller/io, was composed of twenty-
six personages,— the Doge ; six Counsellors ; the three Heads of the Forty
of criminal justice ; six savj, literally wise men, of the Pregadi Council,
commonly called " savj graudi ;" five saiy for the terra firma provinces;
and five savj from another body. The institution of this College dated
from the fifteenth century. Its duty was to convoke the Senate ; to lay
liefore that body the business in hand ; to receive ambassadors ; and in
short, it represented the power and majesty of the Republic. The replies
to be given to ambassadors, or others having business with the Republic,
were communicated to them by the College ; but were deliberated on by
the Senate. Then the College either summoned the parties to their
presence, and read the reply to them, or sent a secretary to them to do so.
In either case the reply was read twice or oftener if the person receiving it
wished it ; but no copy was allowed to be taken of it.
Note 4. — A JosTiFiCATioN OF THEIR CONDUCT. Page 193.
The letter of the Senate to the Venetian resident at the Imperial Court
was as follows: — "A few days back, the Pope was lamenting to our
ambassador at Rome, that, by an order of the Council of Ten, the Abbot
Brandulino and the Canon Saraceni should have been put in confinement,
and that criminal proceedings should be commenced against them, and
insisting that they should be given up to the Ecclesiastical Court as to
their only competent judges. To this complaint he added another respect-
ing the making of two laws, the first of which forbids the building of new
churches, and the other the transfer of real property to ecclesiastics without
our consent. We therefore, having heard these propositions with great
wonder and displeasure, and having diligently considered the whole concern,
although the matter in hand required no justification of ourselves, and
considering, moreover, that we have no need to be answerable to him
touching our l.ny government, yet desiring to act like dutiful sons towards
a loving father in this case also, we replied to him, that our course of
conduct was, as indeed it is, frank, honest, and sincere, seeking only to
forward the service of God, the good government of our subjects, and the
peace and safety of our States, and that in this straightfonvard intention
NOTES. 38]
ve do and shall ever persevere, with entire constancy. "With regnrd,
moreover, to the questions proposed, we said, that these laws are not new
things nor invented by ns, but deliberate measures acted upon in other
States, and founded on former decrees of the Senate, whicli were by it
passed and carried into execution more than three hundred years a^o.
With rejrard to the detention of the ecclesiastics, we answered that the
Council of Ten having heard many accusations ajrainst them for serious
charges, had thought fit to put them in confinement, and had done so by
virtue of many bulls and privileges granted to them by several PoMtiffs,
and put in force by the Council. We added that we must confess it
seemed to us a hard and strange thing, and one by no means to be con-
ceded, that the Republic should now be deprived of tlie privileges which
she for so long a time has enjoyed ; but since His Holiness apj^eared dis-
contented with them, nay, had even given it to be understood iu Consistory
that he counted our deliberations for nothing, and the privileges as con-
ferring insufficient autliority, for all these reasons, and inasmuch as the
matter is of as great moment as any that has occurred for a length of
time, since the Republic may consider herself in like case with all the
other Princes, we have decided ou sending a special aml>assador to His
Holiness. All which things we have thought best to tell you for yi.ur
sole information, so that if mention be made of them to you, and not
else, you may be able to answer to the purpose, and to justify this our
most righteous cause."'
Note 5. — A FoiiMAL and Solemn Puotest. Page 2C8.
"Leonardo Donato, by the grace of God, Doge of Vinicc, kc, kc.
" To the most Reverend the PatriarcliP, Arclibishopa, and ItiithopH of all
our Venetian DominiouK, and to the Vicam, Abbots, Priors, Rectors
of Parochial Churches, and other Ecclesia«tical Prelates, greeting.
" It has come to our knowledge that, on the 17tli of April laKt ji.-uit, by
order of tlie most Holy Falhci Pojk; Paul V., there »«« jiuliliflii-d mid p<i(!«>J
up in Rome a so-called Hricf, which was fulminated against us, our Senate,
and the whole of our hIaU; ; and that one wax nddrrn-icd to yoii, the tenor
and contents whereof were similar to IhoKc of the other. We tlitnf tc, lind
onrselvcs constrained to preserve in pcaco and tran(|uillity Iho MtAl« wliirli
(}»d has given us to rule ; and in onlcr to maintiin our nutlmnty as a
Prince who in temporal matters rrcognis^s no itujM'rior Mivin(( the Divin«
Majesty, We, by these our puldic htlfni, do prot<iit, l)cfi>rr the Lord Hod
and the whole world, that we have not failed t" use every |ioMibla means
t<i make Hin Holiness understand our moni \ ' ' ' ' ' ' ;
first, by mrani of our ambassador residing .T ' ,; i ;
SS-Z NOTES.
then l>y luttors of oiivs, in answer to briefs arldrcsscil to us by His ITollncss :
and, lastly, by a special ambassador sent to liim to this effect. But having
found the ears of Ilis Holiness closed against us, and seeing tluit the brief
aforesaid is published contrary to all rightful reason, and contrary to the
teaching of the Divine ycripturos, the doctrine of the Holy Fathers, and the
Sacred Canons, to the prejudice of the secular authority given us by God,
and of the liberty of our state, inasmuch as it would cause disturbance in
the quiet possession which, by Divine grace, under our government, our
faithful subjects hold of their properties, their honoui-, and their lives, and
occasion a most grave and universal scandal throughout the state ; We do
not hesitate to consider the said brief, not only as unsuitable and unjust,
but as null and void, and of no worth or value whatcvei', and being thus
invalid, vain, and unlawfully fulminated, de facto nulla juris ordine
servalo, we have thought fit to use in resisting it the remedies adopted
by our ancestors and by other sovereign princes against such Pontiffs as, in
using the power given them by God to the use of edifying, liave overstepped
their due limits ; especially are we certain that by you, and by our other
faithful subjects, and by the whole world, the brief will be held and con-
sidered such as we say ; being sure that, as you have, up to the present
time, been diligent in your care of the souls of our fiiithful people, and in
advancing our Divine religion, which by your care flourishes as greatly in
these our states as in any other ; so you will for the future continue in your
same pastoral offices, since it is our most firm intention to continue in the
holy Catholic and Apostolic faith, and in the rite of the holy Roman Church,
as our ancestors have done from the very foundation of this our city, and
by Divine grace have continued in the same to the present year. And we
will, that these our present letters be posted up in the public places of this
our city, and of all the other faithful cities of our dominions, being assured
that so public a declaration will reach tlie ears of all who have had any
knowledge of the aforesaid brief, and will likewise come to the knowledge
of His Holiness, whom we pray the Lord God to inspire with a sense of the
invalidity and nullity of his brief and of the other acts committed against
us, and that lie, knowing the justice of our cause, may give us strength to
maintain our reverence for the holy Apostolic See, whoso most devoted
servants we and our predecessors, together with this Republic, have been,
and ever shall be."
Note 6. — The Life-Blood of ouk Citizens, kc. P. 279.
Copy of the vote of the Senate for the banishment of the Jesuits.
"When the company of the Jesuits was first introduced and dwelt in this
city, it was admitted and received, conformably to the paiticular insti-
tutions of piety and religion in this our Republi-, with readiness and
NOTES. 3S:3
favour in such an cxtraonllnary degree, tliat it very soon began to spread
tbrougli all the other cities of our dominions, hariug, in most brief space,
received advantages and important benefits as great as were ever l>estowed
on the most ancient and reverend of religious orders, as is well known to
every one ; but it, on the other hand, repaying us with an equal nii.'asurc
of ingratitude, has always shown itself very evil disposed, and ever much
inclined, on every occasion, to do us a variety of ill offices, prejudicial to
the quiet and the good of the Republic. And having, instead of doing such
service as miglit reasonably have been expected from good monks, created in-
stead a thousand scandals, and brought about effects of such pernicious conse-
quence, that they have many a time given reasonable cause to this Council
to think of providing a fitting remedy for them, although the order
has been borne with most patiently up to this time ; which tolerance,
however, has not been able to move it from its former evil dispositions :
since, from divers disclosures and writings which have been rt-ud to this
Council, every one is well aware how gi-cat a scandal has b(.cu caused
by the ill deods of the company aforesaid during the present move-
:acnt, it having been the first to show itself disobedient to the orders of
this Council, having, by insidious arts, led away other religious l>odiea as
well in this city as iu the other cities of our statt», to follow its bad
example ; and having produced very baneful cflTtjpts by scattering abroad
and impressing most blaraeable ideas on numbers of persons of either sex,
to the danger of disunion and scandal in the faith : and, moreover, as this
company has even ma'lc use of its trusted servants, in an artful manner, to
accomplish it.'i l«»d ends, lo the prejudice of good government and of the
peace of this Republic ; and, moreover, having concealed, and carri(d off
by violent ways and means, contrary to the intimation it had received hy
a public mandate, the greater ]>firt of the thing.i appertaining to Divine
worship, wliicli have at various times, and in \' rmmlxTs ami value,
been presented to the Cliurph by pious per: . liie nrvioe and glory
of the Divine Majesty, drawn from the heart of the private pomcKsions of
onr noble citizens and subjects, the wliii^h actions of the order have, in the
present stito of the times, all turned out very prejtidioial to pub'ii' affaini,
and of l»ail example to the other religious ordem, and to llio «ntiri? |xipu-
lation of this and the other cities of our state ; to which may Iw adde«l, that
we have heard for certain, from vnriMiiM (iiiart<,Tn, tint in ilircm ri(jc« of
foreign kingd'xns, mcuilx-m of the ufurvsaid company have from the pulpit
freely »|H)ken ill, and, with unbridled tongue, Mpokcn to the dtahon</tir and
calumny of our Republic : thereforf, lieing unable longer to defer Iho rr-
solution by wlijrh wc manifest to the world the j'; iii'-nl which *i>,
on our part, are Ijound Ut show a/ninsl the waid r. vhirh ban in so
many ways, both in times past and prcMcnt, with unheard-of inKmtiliidr,
declar.d itself the coeniy of the peace and liberty of this our Oovernmcnt,
;J8-1. NOTES.
from whieli, both in public and in private, it has received very notable
benefits as aforesaid, the Senate decrees that the aforesaid Company of the
Jesuits, or any member whatever of the said company, can at no time
return and inhabit this city, or the land or territory of our dominions,
without the express permission of this Council."
Note 7. — TnE Italian Translation from the Original Spanish. P. 296.
The letter, as sent to Contarini in an Italian translation, nins as
follows : —
"Muy S'o. Padre. Molto mi pesa chele cose di Venetia sitrovino tanto
avanti, che .s'habbia iinpegiiato Y'». Santita. ct la sede Apostolica, per il che
io non posso come figliuolo dc obedieuza, las^ciar di assisttr con la mia
persona et havere, al servitio et difesa di V". Santita etdclla sede Apos-
tolica, il che ho detto all' amb"". che la Sigi" di Venetia tione in questa corte,
perche gliene dia avviso ; et medesimamente ho ordinate si scriva alii
Potentati d' Italia miei dipendenti, perche intendano la mia volontsl, et ho
commandato che ne siano avvisati li Vicere et governatori d'ltalia di
attender al servitio di Y". Santita et della sede Apostolica per mar et per
terra, secondo li sara date avviso, et essendo necessaria la mia persona
assistero con quella vostra Santita nolle occasioni necessarie."
INDEX,
A.
Acquapendtnte, the physician, at-
tends Sfirpi, 371 ; rewrird<.-d for
curing him by the Semite, '.i72
Adoration, election by, 4'.', (J."*
AldoJjnuidino, Cardinal, SG
Alincourt, French aiubusMidor ut
Koine, 191
Anibas^idor extraordinary from
Venice to Paul V., 17.'>
Aquileia, Patriarch of, 'J7C
Ahcen.sion-day at Venice, 282 ; at
Pnij^'ue, 283
AHtalii, Flaminia, 'i
Auditor of the AjioBtoIic Chamber,
Ul
B.
IJaroniuH, Cardinal, CC ; pre^•ent«
the eh^ction of Cardinal To"--",
OS ; iH ntarly « l<f-tcd, 71
Bedell, Hari : " !. 1.S9
l>elarniini-, ' . TifJ ; pnifioupil
for P"|.c, itj ; ,>,-,! ■
iiur.i: Willi, 1 17 ; I
Sar]ii, 121 ; hi* erron<.'ouHO|.inion
of Sari>i, 134 ; his reply t" Uer-
8on, 24/> ; IiIh jiolcMiici, 302
Bcr writ4.'« to the ;iii
t ,' 'i
Boccaljni, 'i'l.ijan, bis kltor I"
Snrpi, 3C2
Borromeo, Ciirdiuul, 6(3 ; knows
Sarjii at Milan, 1U3
Bossuct, his accuiiations aguiust
iSarpi, 120
Brandolino, Abbot of Kervesa, 156 ;
his crimes, 167
BrcHciu, ItiKhop of, 277
BriofH, the two Pa|ial, arc opened
by the College, 200 ; tcuor of thi«
document, 201
C.
Candle sent to the Doge by the
Pojie, 217
Caorle, Hee of, refused to Sarjii,
132
rni>iicliiiiH threatened, 276
' . iij.iniunH "( v.triouH, re-
; the quarrel villi Venice,
221 ; their advioc to the i'oiM,
'J'.iS
< ' ' <ima. Cardinal, IIH
' 't« of, on Catholic lu-
(Vneda, Vcoioo
and lion.' .' :'," ' ;
Charl.d v.. 18
f • • • "f , 38 ; d ■• oi
. 41 ; h< ful
rofuaoa lu piuuiuta
c
886
INDEX.
Conclave, method of the, 4G ; for
the election of Paul V., history
of, 52 ; extraordinary scene in, 72
Conclaves, history of, 44
Couclavisti, 44
Contarini, Cardinal, 129
Contarini, Francisco, elected am-
bassador to Home, 344 ; his
entry into Rome, 347 ; his inter-
view -with the Pope, 349
D.
Danger to the Church, 96
Dardano, Fra, 119
Dava, the historian, 7
Despotic sovereigns, their relations
with Home, 32
Di Castro, Francesco, sent aml)as.
sador extraordinary from Spain
to Venice, 306 ; his mission and
failure, 307, 313; jealousy of
, De Joyeuse, 312 ; attends the
College, 319; his falsehood, 323 ;
present voted to him, 344
Disputations, monastic, 96, 98 ;
popularity of, 99
Donate Leonardo, chosen ambassa-
dor to Rome, 190 ; elected Doge,
199 ; his character, 200 ; his
conversation with Cardinal Bor-
ghese, 214 ; his speech to the
Nuncio, 21 6 ; candle sent him by
the Pope, 217
Ducal palace, remarkable scene in,
194
Du Fresne, French ambassador,
before the College, 324
Duodo, Cavaliere, arrives at Rome,
ambassador extraordinary, 219 ;
has interview with the Pope, 219
Du Perron, Cardinal, letter from to
Henry IV., 191
E.
Election of Popes, three manners of,
48
Europe at the end of sixteenth cen-
tury, 21
Exclusion from the Papacy, 62
Excommunication, theory of, 236
F.
Faith in the power of the key3
already dead in seventeenth cen-
tury, 254
Families, Italian, solidarity of, 277
Farnese, Ottavio, 112
Ferrara, Duchy of, seized by the
Pope, 150
Ferrara, opportunity of invading
lost, 273
Ferrier, Arnauld, 106
French policy with respect to the
quarrel, 218, 209, 290, 298,305
French ambassador comes to the
College, 220
G.
Genoa, Paul Vth's quarrel with, 89
Gerson, his "Considerations" on
excommunication, 241
Gessi, Berlinghiero, the new Nunci i,
361
Giulio, Fra, 119
Giustina, St., at Padua, convent of,
181
Gonzaga, Duke of Mantua, 102 ;
his joke on Sarpi, 102
Grimani, Doge, death of, 194
H.
Henry IV., his character of James
1 , 294
Henry IV. of France, 17
I.
Immunities, question of priestly,
170
Index, the, of prohibited books ex-
tended to Venice, 149
Imprisonment, Sarpi's views on,
I 114
INDEX.
387
Intellectual progress, danger to the
Church from, 97
Interdict printed, 220 ; immediate
results of, 233 ; theory of, 239 ;
lay resistance to, 24U ; real mode
of operation, 257 ; fails, 21*5,
299 ; reudered innocuuus forever
by this quarrel with Venice, 350
Intrigues in the Conclave, 57, 59
Italian religion, 355
J.
James I., 16
James I., account of Venetian am-
bassador's interview with, 284,
291 ; his warlike policy, 291 ;
characterised by Henry I\'., 294
Jesuit doctrines, 22 ; attienoa, 90 ;
confessors at Venice, 177
Jesuits resist the Venetian govern-
ment, 278; carry off the property
of their church, 27J ; burn their
papers, 2>?0 ; their reiurii to
Venice insisted on by the Pope,
319, 32S
Joj'ense, Cardinal, in conclave, 74,
77 ; sent ambassador extnmnlinary
from France to Veiiicf.lJM^; hisdif-
fi..-ulti<-«. 312; altcipls tli.; Ci'lNge
1 9ih Ft l.riiary, 1007,3 11; aimtLer
interview with the (Joll<ge, 318 ;
depart<i for Rome, 322 ; returns
to Venice 10th April, 1007,325;
Ills triumphant interview with
the Collesje, 320 ; conversation
between him anil 1
by the College,
•with the C'olli-gc, loth Aiiril,
1007, 330 ; removes the ccnMurcs
21 St April, 1007, 343 ; his
apecch to the College, 343 ; pre-
sent voted to him, 314 ; deiimndH
n conftrcnce lllh May, 1CU7,
345
Joyeuae, Due dc, iitory of, 121
K.
Knowledge is power, how and when,
255
L.
Long Philip, corrupt minister at the
Emj>eror's court, 271
Leo XL, election of, 43
Literature of the Interdict, 300
Lucca, Paul Vth's quiirrel with, 87
M.
Mattel, Orazio, the Nuncio at Venice,
155 ; his interview with the Col-
lege, 172 ; a^ain Nov, 8th, 1605,
179 ; remarks on the election of
Donate to be rv r, 190 ;
suspends the pi' n of the
briefs, 192, 193 ; presents the
briefs ou Christmas-d:ty, 1605,
196 ; the College refuse to re-
ceive him, 198 ; again before the
College 10th Februarv, 1606,
215 ; ! .1 brief
to the , lirunry,
lC(i'>, 21"?; hi8 conduct ou As-
cension-day, 282 ; announces to
the College his departure from
Venice, 284
May nieetinci in London, 111
M<ii • -od, 108
Mil -d the
bi!<ho|)ric I if, lol
Montalto, ('ardinal, 53 ; at supiior,
58 ; foiled by his own jMirty, 66
Morelli, Lioabcttn, Sarpi's mother, 4
Morosiiii, till- tiixtoriaii, 156
Murii.siiii, Andrea, society iit his
hoiiKc, 137
Mortmain laws in Venice, 160
N.
Naiii, Agrrtitino, 154 ; his intorriow
with I'nul v., 105 ; scmU re|>or
of it t<. the fvnnte, 171 ; further
r ... . ,^ ,,.„r,^
1. iih Iho
I
to the HenaU' 1 1
hojK! of Pnul's } .
ill
3S.S
INDEX.
Navarro, the Jesuit, Sarpi's ac-
quaintaucc with liiin, 117.
Negotiations at Korao, 170.
Noua, see of, refused to Sarpi, 133
0.
Oil trade, quarrels between Venice
and Rome respecting the, 151
Opinion, public, of Europe, 193
Orders, monastic and mendicant,
differences between, 100
Orlandini, Rutilio, sent from Rome
to Venice, and arrested there,
363
Padua, Sarpi's visits to, 138
Paoline Chapel, 72
Parma, great meeting of Servites at,
110
Parties in the Conclave, 52, 53
Patriarch, election of, Rome's claims
respecting, 155, 170
Paul v., his birth, 3 ; his early
career, 39 ; his character, 40, SI ;
proposed as Pope, 76 ; is elected,
78 ; conduct on bis election, 80 ;
personal appearance, 81 ; de-
scribed by a Venetian ambassa-
dor, 82 ; anecdote of him, 83 ;
liis superstitious terrors, 84 ; how
removed, 85 ; his quarrels with
various states, 86 ; characterised
by Sarpi, 91 ; demands that eccle-
siastical criminals shall be given
up to him by Venice, 100 ; insists
on the repeal of the Venetian
mortmain laws, 164 ; first inter-
view with the Venetian ambassa-
dor, 160 ; puffed up by his suc-
cesses against various govern-
ments, 177 ; second interview
with the Venetian ambassador,
180 ; his violence, 182 ; orders
briefs against Venice to be drawn
up, 183 ; his conduct at a recep-
tion of the Venetian ambassador,
184 ; dispatches the briefs, 180 ;
informs the cardinals in Consis-
tory that the briefs have been sent
to Venice, 192 ; sends a letter se-
cretly to the Nuncio, 194 ; orders
tlie Nuncio to declare the election
of a new Doge null, 1 97 ; his vio-
lence at an interview with Nani
on the 3rd February, 1000, 212;
draws up the interdict with his
own hand, 226 ; wavers at last,
but finally determines to launch
it, 227 ; strives to excite rebel-
lion in the Venetian territories,
289 ; would fain back out from
his position, 295 ; re-encouraged
by letter from Philip III., 297 ;
again discouraged, 299 ; becomes
convinced that he has little to
hope from Spain, 305 ; insists on
the return of the Jesuits, 319;
discontented with the terms of
reconciliation, 345 ; his enduring
hatred of Sarpi, 353 ; question
of the degree of his guilt in the
attempted murder of Sarpi, 367 ;
protects the assassins of Sarpi,
376 ; his death, 378
Philip III., his letter to Paul V.,
296
Philip III. of Spain, 23
Piccinardi, story of, 83
Po, waters of, quarrel betv/een Ve-
nice and Rome respecting the,
152
Poma, Ridolfo, the assassin of Sarpi,
36S ; his antecedents, 369 ; his
subsequent fortunes and career,
374.
Possevin, the Jesuit, intercepted
letter to, 224
Priests, Venetian, their position
between two masters, 259 ; anec-
dote of one, 260 ; forbidden to
open any bull, 206 ; penalties
enacted against, 273 ; what was
their duty, 274
Prisoners, ecclesiastical, ceremony
of delivering up, 340
Prisons at Venice, 8
Protest against the Interdict, 268 ;
disputes respecting form of can-
celling, 337, 347
Pi'otestant hopes arising from this
quarrel fallacious, 355
INDEX.
389
ProtestaDtism, tendencies of, 16 ;
imperfect, 17
Prottstant point of view of the quar-
rel, li9
E.
Ranke on the Council of Trent, 11 ;
his opinion doubted, 23
Kestoration, Catholic, 13 ; its re-
sults, H, 18
Rodolph II. sends messages to Ve-
nice, 271
Horn ish Church, claims of, 30; means
used by, to acquire property, 101 ;
pontifical army in 1C06 much
like that in IStiO, 21*0 ; injury to,
from the quarrel with Venice,
300, 303; her aim in the nego-
tiations for peace, 333 ; i)osition
at the close of the quarrel, 350 ;
hatred against Sarpi, 352 ; infa-
mous for the attempted murder
of Sarpi, 3(J6 ; irritated at the
Venetian proclamation respecting
Farpi, 373 ; condiiot respecting
the assassins of Sarpi, 375
S.
Fala Regia in the Vatican, 71 ; ex-
traordinary scene, 74
f^an Clcnienli, Cardinal, T.!)
Han Marceilo, Cardinal, 55, 01
Hanta Scvorina, Cardinal, 131
Saoli, ('anlinal, 55
Sara'^cni, Canon, 167 ; story of his
alxiniinablc conduct, 158
iSarpi, Father Paul, his birth, 3 ;
his work yet liven, 5 ; I ' '
ttr of Paul v., l/l ;
in \xiyhn<x], U'.i ; early
'J i ; (.'duration, f*5 ; I
iServiUj friar, 05 ; his Bcholanlic
triumphs, 1)8 ; his anatomical
Htudica, 99, 123 ; invent* the
thermometer, 100; early dinc-
tion of his mind, 101 ; nt Mantua,
101 ; goes to Milan, 103 ; bc-gioii
to pather materials for his history,
lo3; accused of hereby, 104;
is summoned to Venice, 105 ;
preaches at Parma, 112 ; sent to
Kome to form a code of laws for
the Servite body, 113 ; is elected
Procurator of the Order, 115 ; re-
turns to Venice, 117 ; persecuted
by members of his Order, IIS ;
goes again to Rumc, 120; his
friendship with (xaLleo, 122; his
monastic conduct, 1"j5 ; does not
hear confessions, 127 ; his ortho-
doxy, 128 ; is refused the See of
Jllilopotamus, 131 ; liis monastic
duties, 131 ; is refused the See
of Caorle, 132 ; is refusal the See
of Nona, 133 ; his earnest sin-
cerity, 136 ; his intercourse with
society, 137 ; his visits to Padua,
138 ; circumstances under which
he had to fight with Kome, ISS ;
remarks on Paul's ignorance of
the nature of the Venetian govern-
ment, 11*7 ; referred to by the
Senate for his opinion of the Pajial
briefs, 207 ; taken formally under
the protection of the Uepublic,
208 ; his reply respecting tho
briefs, 20S ; appointed canonist
to the Re[>ul(lif, 20It ; has to re-
sist Rome a-s an orthodox Catho-
lic, 250 ; his theory of resistance,
25 1 ; his material resistance to the
Interdict, 25.s ; his i|ueHtionablo
orthoiloxy, 25;t ; honours heaped
on him irritate Rome ; 357 ; at-
tempts to invei;;'.' him to Rome,
358, 301 ; refuses to meet Do
Joyciise, 3C0 ; wnrne<l of dan/ier
from Rome, 302 ; altack<.'<l and
wounded 5th Oclo er, 1007, 'Mi ;
his protracted re- overy, 371 ; hia
death, 37h
!, J'nincisco, Paul's futlicr, 3,
his inlcr-
.. JJ3
S'-ihile, I I., omni, 100
Secehini, ..,,,,,, i.., aoclcly at hin
bouse, 137
fvnnti', V 1^1
from, . r to
1)0 JoycuM.', oti4
890
INDEX.
Scrvites, account of, 109
Sistine Chapel, 72 ; extraordinary
scene in, 7ti
SixtvisV., Pope, knew Sarpi, 316
Soranzo, Francesco, his account of
the insults otVered him by the
Nuncio at Prague, 283
Spain, coui-t of, Venetian envoy in-
sulted at, 290
Spanish policy with respect to the
quarrel, 218, 270, 290, 298, 305
T.
Temporalities of a church, results of
the, 261
Theatines threatened, 276
Thermometer in part discovered by
Sarpi, 100
Torture, Sarpi's views on, 114
Tosco, Cardinal, 56 ; proposed for
Pope, 60, 63 ; all but elected,
67
Travelling forbidden by the Pope,
149
Trent, Council of, 10; true aims of,
24 ; importance of, 25
Turkish government, view of the
quarrel taken by the, 323
U,
Uscocks, the, quarrels between Ve-
nice and Kome respecting them,
146
Venetian College, replies to the
Nuncio, 173 ; instructions to their
ambassador at Rome, 183 ; an-
swers the Nuncio, 183 ; reply of
to De Joyeuse, 329 ; refuse to
consent to the return of the
Jesuits, 320; proposals made by
in reply to those of De Joyeuse,
335
Venetian goveniment, 6 ; true cha-
racter of, 57 ; causes of quarrel
with Rome, 143 ; its policy in ec-
clesiastical matters, 114; quar-
rels witli Rome respecting the
Uscocks, 146; respecting Ceueda,
148 ; respecting permission to
travel, 149 ; respecting the Index,
149 ; respecting their common
frontier, 150 ; respecting the oil
trade, 151 ; motives on which it
based its mortmain laws, 103 ;
did not deceive itself respecting
the quarrel with Paul V., 178 ;
wished ,to procrastinate, 179 ;
avoid appealing to fundamental
principles, 180 ; logical incon-
sistency of, 187 ; sends an am-
bassador extraordinary to Rome,
190 ; addresses to foreign courts
information of the quarrel with
Rome, 192 ; write to their am-
bassador at Prague, 193: toother
courts, 193 ; send secret envoys
to Ferrara, 198 ; consult Sarpi
on the Papal briefs, 207 ; sends
reply to the Papal brief, 210;
sends answer to the second brief,
219 ; answer to the French am-
bassador, 220 ; sends fresh repre-
sentations to the Pope on the 8th
April, 222 ; makes a long state-
ment to the French ambassador,
225 ; their measures against the
Interdict classed in four divisions,
265 ; determine to receive no
paper from the Nuncio, 266 ;
forbid all citizens to have any
paper of any sort from Rome,
267 ; makes military preparation,
273 ; decrees the expulsion of the
Jesuits, 279 ; recalls its ambas-
sadors from Rome, 284 ; terms
offered by them to De Joyeuse,
316 ; reply to the proposals
of De Joyeuse, 320 ; measures
against the assassins of Sarpi,
372 ; measures for his future
safety, 373
Venice, amount of church property
in. 161 ; the day of reconciliation
in, 340 ; no rejoicing in, at^the
I^'DEX.
301
reconciliation, 341 ; sensation
Ciiused at, by Sarpi's assassina-
tion, 371
Vicenza, Cardinal of, his letter to
the Senate, 323
Vicenza, curious occurrence at, 287
Visconti, Cardinal, 55, 74
Voting in conclave, method of, 54
W.
Works, justification by, 27
Wotton, Sir Henry, his interviews
with the Secretary Scaramelii,
223 ; his speech to the College,
272 ; again 2ud October, 21*2
THE END.
imAODURV AND KVANH, miNTCWI, WIIITrrHUIta.
3 087 8
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