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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. 
 
 • •• •-•• • •••• • 
 
 
 ^ .r-r ^% 
 * -* ht/„
 
 ■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.
 
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