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I 


/ 


HISTORY 


OF 


LATIN   CHRISTIANITY. 


s 


HISTORY 


OF 


LATIN    CHRISTIANlflTi 


INCLUDING   THAT  OF 


THE    POPES 


TO 


THE  PONTIFICATE  OF  NICOLAS  V. 


By  henry  hart  MILMAN,  D.D., 

DEAN  OF  ST.  PAUL'S. 


IN  EIGHT  VOLUMES. 
VOLUME  vin. 


NEW  YORK: 
SHELDON  AND  COMPANY 

BOSTON:  GOULD   AND  LINCOLN. 


\ 

\ 
\ 


MDCOCLZn. 


RIVEBSIDR,     CAMBRIDOB: 

tTBRBOTTPBD     AND     PBINTBP     BT 

H      0.    HOUGHTON. 


[I 


^ 


• 


CONTENTS 


V  OF 

V 


THE  EIGHTH  VOLUME. 


BOOK  XIIL     (caniinued.) 

CHAPTER   XIII. 
CouvcxL  OF  Fkkrara  —  Thb  Gkeeks. 

A.».  *  PA0I 

Proposed  Reconciliation  of  Grreek  Empire  and 

Church U 

Proceedings  at  Constantinople 17 

1485  Council  Biupends  the  Pope 18 

The  Emperor  John  Palaeologus tft. 

Fleets  of  the  Pope  and  the  Council 22 

1487  Hie  voyage 24 

1488  Arrivd  at  Venice. 25 

Anival  at  Ferrara 27 

Plague  at  Ferrara 81 

Journey  to  Florence 88 

France  —  Pragmatic  Sanction  —  Synod  of  Bouiges    84 


CHAPTER  XIV. 
Council  of  Flobbncb. 

1488-9  Procession  of  the  Holy  Ghost 41 

Temw  of  Treaty 44 

Close  of  the  Session 48 

Return  of  the  Greeks  to  Constantinople ib. 


vi  CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  VHI. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

COHTINUATIOir  OF  THE  COUKGIL  OF  BaSUE — POPB  FXLIZ. 

A.D.  PAQI 

Archbishop  of  Aries 58 

1489  Deposition  of  Pope  Eugenius 65 

Election  of  Pope  Felix 60 

1440  Coronation 61 

Neutrality  of  Germany  —  Diets 62 


CHAPTER   XVI. 
iEiiBAS  Stlyius  Piccolomini  —  DissocuTiON  OF  Council  of  Basle. 

Youth  of  Mneas 65 

.^Sneas  in  Scotland 67 

His  morals 71 

iEneas  at  Basle 74 

Secretary  to  Pope  Felix 80 

Secretary  to  the  Emperor 81 

^neas  in  Holy  Orders 84 

1444  .£neas  Imperial  Ambassador  to  Rome 88 

^neas  Secretary  to  the  Pope t&. 

1446  Again  at  Rome ib, 

Gregory  of  Heimburg 98 

Diet  at  Frankfort 94 

1447  Death  of  Eugenius  IV. 98 

CHAPTER   XVII. 
Nicolas  V. 

Election  of  Nicolas  V. 100 

1449  Dissolution  of    Council  of  Basle  —  Abdication   of 

Pope  Felix 102 

iEneas  in  Milan 105 

Character  of  Nicolas  V. 106 

1450  Jubilee 108 

1452  Coronation  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  HI. Ill 


•  • 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  VIU.  vii 


A.  V. 


Conspiracy  of  Stephen  Porcaro 114 

Taking  of  ConaUntiMpie 118 

1454  Death  of  mcolas  Y. 119 

Mcolas  patron  of  letters  and  arts 121 

His  buildings 126 


BOOK  XIV. 

CHAPTER   I. 

SURVET. 

Cleigy  and  Laity 182 

Intellectual  education  of  Clergy 184 

Spiritual  power 186 

Monks  and  Friars 189 

Property  of  Clergy  —  Tithe 141 

Landed  wealth 144 

France — England 146 

Doomsday 147 

Valuation  of  Henry  VIII. 161 

Bent  in  money  and  kind 168 

Oblations 155 

Unity  of  the  Clergy 157 

Ubiquity  of  Clei^ 160 

Social  effects 168 

Charity 166 

Morals  of  the  Clergy 167 

Power  of  Clergy —  Italy 170 

"  "  France 178 

"  "  Spain  —  Germany 175 

««  "  England 177 


▼iii  CONTENTS  OF  VOL.   VUL 


CHAPTER    II. 

BbLIEF  of  LaTOV  CHBISTIAinTT. 

PAU 

The  Creed 186 

Popular  religion 186 

Angela 189 

Pseado-Dionysius  the  Areopagite 190 

Demonology 196 

Satan 199 

The  Virgin 208 

The  Saints 204 

Belies 217 

Hell 221 

Palpatory 224 

Heaven 227 


CHAPTEB   III. 
LATiif  Lettbbs. 

Theology 284 

Earlier  Schoolmen 286 

Peter  Lombard 288 

M3rsties •  • 240 

Arabic  Philosophy 248 

Aristotle 245 

Translations  of  Aristotle * 248 

The  Schoolmen 249 

The  five  great  Schoolmen — 

Albert  the  Great 257 

Thomas  Aquinas 265 

St  Bonaventura 278 

Duns  Scotus * *. 276 

(Scotists  and  Thomists) 280 

William  of  Ockham 282 

Roger  Bacon 288 

The  De  Imitatione  Christi 297 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  Vm. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

Chbistiait  Latin  Poktbt — Histobt. 

no 

Latin  Poetry — Parapbrases 802 

Later  Latin  Poems •  •  806 

Lives  of  the  Saints 807 

Hymnology 808 

Mysteries 812 

Hroswitha 816 

Anacreontic  Songs 819 

Satiric  Poems 824 

History 881 

CHAPTER  V. 
Chbistian  Letters  in  the  New  Languages  of  Europe. 

French  —  Spanish —  German  —  English 885 

Provencal  Poetry 837 

Dante 888 

Petrarch 842 

Boccaccio ib. 


CHAPTER  VI. 

Language  of  France 850 

The  Normans 858 

Poetry  of  Langui!  d'Oil  —  Trouvferes 856 

Memoirs 859 


CHAPTER  VII. 


« 


Teutonic  Languages. 

Christian  terms  original 860 

The  Anglo-Saxons 868 

Conversion  of  Germany • 364 

The  Normans 868 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  VHI. 

PASS 

Piere  Ploughman - 871 

Wycliffe'8  Bible 884 

Chaucer • 886 

Germany 891 

Preachers 896 

John  Tauler 897 

Nicolas  of  Basle 401 

Mysticism 405 

Friends  of  God 407 

German  Theology 408 

CHAPTER  VIII. 
Chbistian  Abchitbgtube. 

Architecture  faithful  to  the  Church 409 

L  Boman  Architecture 412 

The  Arch 414 

Constantine  the  Great 415 

Constantinople 417 

n.  Justinian 418 

St  Sophia 420 

Hierarchical  influence 422 

The  Church  —  The  builders  in  the  West*  ib. 

Motives  for  church-building 427 

The  Church  the  people's 481 

m.  Byzantine,  Lombard,  or  Bomanesque 482 

IV.  Norman   Architecture 486 

V.  Grothic  Architecture 487 

The  Gothic  the  consummation  of  church 

architecture 446 

Symbolism 447 

CHAPTER    IX. 
Chbistiam  Scuuturb. 

Christian  sculpture  in  the  East 452 

Proscribed  in  the  East 455 

Sculpture  in  the  West 456 


CONTENTS  OF  VOL.  Vm.  xi 

Architectural  Sculpture 467 

Monumental  Sculpture 460 

CHAPTER  X. 

CHBUTIAir     PAIKTIirO. 

The  Catacombs 465 

Tjrpea  of  the  Saviour,  &c. 468 

Monks  of  St  Basil 470 

Change  in  the  tenth  century ib. 

Mosaics 472 

Dawn  of  Art 476 

Gciotto ib. 

Mendicant  Orders 479 

Frti  Angelico 482 

Transalpine  painting 484 

Art  under  Nicolas  V. 486 

Revolution  begun  under  Nicolas  Y. 487 

I.  Progress  of  human  intellect 489 

n.  Revival  of  Letters 490 

m.  Modem  Languages 498 

IV.  Printing  and  paper 494 

Conclusion • 497 

Indxx 607 


HISTORY 


OF 


LATIN    CHRISTIANITY. 


BOOK    XIII.      (CONTINUBD.) 

CHAPTER  Xin. 

COUNCIL  OF  FEBBARA.  THE  GREEKS. 

The  Pope  liad  appealed  to  Christendom  on  his  orig- 
inal inherent  irresponsible  aatocracy,  even  before  the 
afiair  of  the  reconciliation  of  the  Greek  Church  be- 
coming more  urgent  gave  him  a  special  pretext  for 
convoking  the  Council  to  some  city  of  Italy.  This  act 
was  in  truth  the  dissolution  of  the  Council  of  Basle. 
For  the  Teutonic  Council  of  Basle  with  all  its  aspixa^ 
tions  after  freedom,  the  substitution  of  an  Italian  Conn- 
cily  if  not  servilely  submissive,  in  interests  and  views 
closely  bound  up  with  the  Pope^  had  been  from  the 
first  the  declared  policy  of  Eugenius  IV.  And  now 
the  union  of  the  Churches  of  the  East  and  West,  so 
long  delayed,  so  often  interrupted,  might  seem  an  inev- 
itable necessity;  it  was  imminent,  immediate,  at  the 
will  and  the  command  of  the  West,  which  might 
dictate  its  own  terms.  The  Emperor,  and  even  the 
Patriarch  of  Constantinople  seemed  driven,  in  their 
deathpang  of  terror  at  the  approach  of  the  victorious 


14  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIIL 

Tui'ks,  to  accept  the  aid  of  the  West  at  any  cost,  at 
any  sacrifice.  The  Emperor  John  PalaBologus  was 
hardly  master  of  more  than  the  Imperial  city.  Con- 
stantinople was  nearly  the  whole  Byzantine  Empire. 
Nothing,  however,  shows  more  clearly  that  the  Coun-' 
Reconciliation  cil  and  the  Pope  divided  tlie  allegiance  of 
smpin.  Christendom  than  that  ambassadors  from  the 
Eastern  Empire  appeared  in  Basle  as  well  as  in  Rome. 
Negotiations  were  conducted  between  the  Emperor  and 
Patriarch  &s  well  with  the  Council  as  with  the  Pope.^ 
Legates  from  the  Council  as  from  the  Pope  were  sent 
to  Constantinople.  Contracts  were  entered  into  for 
Negotiations  galleys,  if  not  hired,  promised  both  by  Pope 
and  Council,  and  Couucil  to  couvey  the  Byzantine  and  his 
Clergy  to  the  West.  The  crafty  Greeks  seemed  dis- 
posed to  bargain  with  the  highest  bidder,  and  with  him 
who  could  give  best  security.  The  difficulties  and  ad- 
vantages seemed  singularly  balanced.  The  Pope  might 
admit  the  Easterns  to  unity,  but  Transalpine  Christen- 
dom alone  could  pay  the  price  of  their  laudable  apos- 
tasy. Effective  aid  could  be  expected  not  from  Italy, 
but  from  the  Emperor  (Sigismund  was  still  on  the 
throne)  and  from  a  crusade  of  all  Europe.  If  the 
Greeks  were  unwilling  to  appear  at  Basle,  the  Council 
would  consent  to  adjourn  for  this  purpose  to  Avignon. 
And  Avignon,  it  was  thought,  would  purchase  the  high 

1  Syropoliu  (p.  17),  the  Greek,  describes  the  Council  as  assembled  to 
remedy  the  monstrous  evils  which  had  grown  up  in  the  West,  and  for  the 
limitation  of  the  Pope's  power,  and  that  of  his  court:  'Ett^  dtop^uaei  tQv 
drovuv  TufV  h  rolg  ftepeoi  r^f  'IroAiaf  napeia^apivTUVt  koI  fiaXuna  hrl 
Ty  auoTo^  Kol  ifTTorvnoaei  rov  Udna  xai  t^  KVprti^  airov.  Of  the  three 
ambassadors  to  Basle,  two  were  Demetrius,  the  great  Stratopedarch,  and 
Isidore,  afterwards  Metropolitan  of  Russia.  See  the  accounU  of  their  re- 
oeption  —  Syropnlus,  p.  23,  et  seq. 


Chap.XIIL       ^        REMOVAL  OF  COUNCIL.  15 

honor  of  becoming  the  seat  of  the  Council  for  this  glo- 
rious object,  at  the  price  of  70,000  pieces  of  gold  for 
the  convoy  of  the  Emperor  and  his  retinue.  Avignon 
declined,  or  at  least  was  not  prompt  in  the  acceptance 
of  these  terms. 

The  Pope  during  the  preceding  year  had  offered  the 
choice  of  the  great  cities  of  Italy  —  Bologna,  Ancona, 
Ravenna,  Florence,  Pisa,  Mantua,  even  Rome.  He 
now  insisted  on  the  alternative  of  Florence  or  of 
Udine  in  the  Friulian  province  of  his  native  Venice. 
Florence,  his  faithful  ally,  would  open  her  own  gates, 
Venice  would  admit  a  Council  into  her  territory,  not 
within  her  lagunes.  If  the  reconciliation  of  the  Greek 
and  the  Latin  Church,  tlie  tardy  and  compulsory  sub- 
mission of  Constantinople  to  the  See  of  Rome,  had 
been  the  one  paramount,  transcendent  duty  of  Chris- 
tendom ;  if  it  was  to  swallow  up  and  supersede  all  the 
long  agitated  questions  of  the  reform  in  the  hierarchy, 
the  reinstatement  of  the  sacerdotal  Order  not  only  in 
its  power  but  in  its  commanding  holiness,  the  Pope 
might  urge  strong  reasons  for  the  transplantation  of 
the  Council  to  Italy.  The  Greeks  might  well  be 
alarmed  at .  the  unnecessary  difficulties  of  a  journey 
over  the  snowy  Alps,  the  perils  of  wild  roads,  of 
robber  chieftains.  The  Pope  felt  his  strength  in  rest- 
ing the  dispute  on  that  issue  alone.  At  all  events  it 
might  create  a  schism  at  Basle.  The  Transalpine 
party  still  adhered  to  Avignon,  or  some  city  of  France. 
But  if  the  Greeks  also  'were  to  be  considered,  there 
could  be  no  doubt  of  the  superior  convenience  of  Italy.^ 

1  On  one  occasion  the  Patriarch  said  with  simplicitj  that  he  had  no  in- 
clination to  be  food  for  fishes:  '£^  6k  oi)K  d^utv  K(Kvere  ^eidea^ai  k/iavroO, 
fOproTe  Kol  kv  rift  neXuyei  fit/^  KaTd(3(Mfia  yivotfuu  twv  ix^uv.  — 


16       '  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  .       Book  Xm. 

The  Papal  Legate,  die  Archbishop  of  Tarento,  ap- 
Bfareh  8,  pcared  at  Basle  to  propose  the  removal  of  the 
^^'  Council  for  this  great  end  to  Florence  or  to 

Udine.  The  President  of  the  Conncil  was  still  the 
Cardinal  Julian  Cdesarini.  Up  to  this  time  Caesarini 
had  stood  firm  and  unshaken  on  the  rights  of  the 
Council,  but  now  with  other  Italian  Prelates  inclined 
towards  obedience  to  the  Pope.  But  the  large  number 
of  the  Transalpine  Clergy,  especially  of  the  lower 
clergy,  knew  that  once  evoked  to  Italy  the  Council, 
as  an  independent  assembly,  was  at  an  end.  The  de- 
bate was  long  and  turbulent.  They  came  to  the  vote. 
Above  two  thirds  of  the  Council  rejected  the  proroga- 
tion to  Florence  or  Udine.  The  Duke  of  Milan,  still 
opposed  to  the  Pope  in  Italian  politics,  on  his  part  de- 
sirous of  having  the  Council  in  his  dominions,  offered 
a  third  alternative,  the  city  of  Pavia.  -^neas  Sylvius, 
in  an  eloquent  speech  of  two  hours  (it  was  a  conven- 
ient resting-place  for  w£neas  ere  he  passed  from  the 
interests  of  the  Council  to  that  of  the  Pope),  urged 
this  middle  course.  He  wrought  on  the  ambassadors 
of  Castile,  but  the  Council  was  obdurate ;  it  would  not 
pass  the  Alps.  The  decree  of  the  majority  was  pub- 
licly read,  ordered  to  be  engrossed,  and  confirmed  with 
the  seal  of  the  Council.  To  the  indignation  of  most, 
a  Bishop  arose  and  published  aloud  the  decree  of  the 
minority  as  that  of  the  Council.^  Nor  was  this  all ; 
at  night  the  Bull  of  the  Council  was  stolen  from  its 
box,  the  silken  thread  which  attached  the  seal  had 
been  cut,  the  seal  appended  to  the  substituted  decree 

Syropulw,  p.  22.     The  magniloquent  Latin  translator  makes  the  fishes 
whailes. 
1  MsietA  Sylvius,  p.  73.    L'Enfant,  i.  p.  481,  &c. 


Chap  XUI.        THE  ARCHBISHOP  OF  TARENTO.  17 

of  the  Papal  party.  The  fraud  was  openly  charged, 
it  was  believed  to  be  brought  home  to  the  Legate,  the 
Archbishop  of  Tarento.  His  officer  was  treated  with 
contumely,  even  with  personal  violence.  The  Arch- 
bishop with  inconceivable  effi"ontery,  avowed  and  glo- 
ried in  the  crime.  He  had  advised,  ordered,  aided  in 
tbe  theft.  He  had  done  it,  and  would  do  it  were  it  to 
do  again.  Must  he  not  obey  the  Apostolic  See  rather 
than  a  rabble  ?^  He  fled  from  the  city  (he  was  threat- 
ened with  imprisonment)  under  an  armed  July  6, 1487. 
escort.  The  Emperor  heard  of  this  unworthy  artifice ; 
he  declared  that  the  crime  should  not  pass  unpunished. 
Europe  rang  with  the  guilt  of  the  Legate. 

Eugenius  loudly  protested  against  this  insolent  im- 
peachment of  his  Legate.  He  denounced  the  violence 
threatened  against  his  sacred  person,  the  rude  usage  of 
the  Archbishop's  officer:  he  afterwards  rewarded  the 
Archbishop  with  the  Cardinalate.  His  protest  and 
denunciations  were  heard  with  incredulity  or  indiffer- 
ence at  Basle. 

The  Pope  was  more  successftil  in  his  dealings  at 
Constantinople.  The  Assembly,  he  urged,  was  but  a 
small  knot  of  unruly  spirits,  usurping  the  name  of  a 
Council ;  their  sole  object  was  to  diminish  the  power 
of  the  Pope,  the  Pope  who  alone  had  the  right  to  sum- 
mon a  Council  and  control  their  proceedings.  He 
warned  the  Byzantines  against  trusting  to  their  prom- 
ises ;  they  had  no  money  to  transport  the  Greeks  to 

1  **  TarentinuB  aiti  cordis  vir,  intrepidos,  audax.  Quid  vos,  inquit,  tanto- 
pere  factmn  vituperatiaV  Rectum  est  et  lande  dignum,  quod  reprehenditur. 
Suasi  ego  rem,  fieri  mandavi,  operam  dedi,  et  nisi  fecissem,  hodie  facerem. 
ApostolicsB  Sedi  magis  qnain  vestrie  turbs  obnoxius  sum.  Verum  ego 
decretum  plumbavi,  vos  adulterinum.  Vi  nos  impediistis  plumbare:  cur 
arte  non  vindicabimus,  quod  nobis  vi  rapitur?  nolo  negare  quod  feci  et 
recte  feci."  —  ^n.  Sylvias,  p.  74. 

VOL.  vm-  2 


18  LAXm  OinaSTIAKITY.  Book  XOL 

the  West,  none  for  ulterior  purposes.  Venice  had  al- 
ready prepared  her  galleys  for  the  convoy  of  the  Em- 
peror. Of  Venice  the  Greeks  well  knew  the  power 
and  the  wealth.  Yet  the  crafty  Greeks  might  well 
smile  at  the  zeal  of  the  Pope  for  the  unity  of  the 
Church,  which  made  him  hold  up  their  reconciliation 
as  the  one  great  object  of  Christendom,  while  in  the 
West  the  unity  was  thus  broken  by  the  feud  of  Pope 
and  Council. 

That  feud  was  growing  more  violent  and  irreconcil- 
Jaiysi.  able.  The  Council  issued  their  monition  to 
Sept.  26.  ^Q  Pope  and  to  the  Cardinals  to  appear  be- 
fore them  at  Basle  within  sixty  days,  and  answer  for 
Oct.  81.  their  acts.  They  annulled  his  creation  of 
Cardinals.  At  the  expiration  of  the  sixty  days  they 
solemnly  declared  the  Pope  contumacious.  He  had 
promulgated  his  Bull  for  the  Council  of  Ferrara. 
That  Bull  they  declared  void  and  of  none  effect. 
Jan.  24, 1488.  After  some  delay  they  proceeded  to  the  sus- 
pension of  the  Pope.  Other  resolutions  passed,  limit- 
ing appeals  to  the  Roman  See,  abolishing  ex})ectatives, 
gradually  unfolding  and  expanding  their  views  of 
Church  Reformation. 

The  union  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  Churches,  as  it 
was  understood  in  the  West  by  the  Pope  and  the  high 
Papalists,  the  unqualified  snlgection  of  the  East  to  the 
successor  of  St.  Peter,  by  the  Council  the  subjection  to 
the  Western  Church  represented  at  Basle,  seemed  to 
acquire  more  paramount  importance  from  the  eager 
and  emulous  exertions  of  the  Council  and  the  Pope  to 
secure  each  to  itself  the  Imperial  proselyte.  The  Em- 
The  Emperor  peror,  Johu  VI.  PalaBoloffus,  miffht  at  first 
logiu.  appear  to  balance  with  lofty  indifference  their 


CteAP.  Xm.  JOHN  PAUBOLOGUS.  19 

conflicting  claims ;  to  weigh  the  amount  and  the  cer- 
tainty of  their  offers,  in  which  thej  vied  against  each 
other  ;  and  to  debate  which  would  be  the  most  service- 
able ally  against  the  terrible  Ottoman,  and  therefore 
best  reward  the  sacrifice  of  the  religious  freedom  of 
the  East.  Those  were  not  wanting  who  advised  him 
to  dismiss  the  ambassadors  of  both,  and  declare,  '^  when 
you  have  settled  your  own  quarrels^  it  will  be  time  for 
ns  to  discuss  the  terms  of  union."  Friar  John,  the 
Legate  of  the  Council,  as  he  began  to  despaii*  of  con- 
ducting the  Emperor  to  Basle,  would  at  all  hazards 
keep  him  away  from  Italy.  He  urged  this  dignified 
course ;  the  more  important  adviser,  the  Emperor 
Sigismund,  gave  the  same  counsel.^  But  the  Byzan* 
tine  was  now  resolutely,  as  far  as  a  mind  so  feeble  was 
capable  of  resolution,  determined  on  his  journey  to  the 
West.  He  could  not  hope  to  hold  a  Council  in  Con- 
stantinople, in  which  the  West  would  be  but  partially 
represented,  if  it  condescended  to  be  represented  ;  or 
in  which  his  own  Church,  dominant  in  numbers,  if  re- 
quired to  make  the  slightest  concession,  would  render 
obedience.  His  fears  and  his  vanity  had  wrought  him 
to  desperate  courage.  He  could  not  but  know  that  the 
Turks  were  still  closing  round  his  narrowing  empire, 
though  there  was  for  the  moment  some  delay  or  sus- 
pense in  their  movements.  Amurath  had  hardly  con- 
sented to  a  hollow  and  treacherous  delay ,^  and  who 
could  know  when  they  might  be  under  the  walls  of 
Constantinople  ?     Yet  had  PalsBologus  strange  notions 

1  Laonictis  Chalcondylas.     By  a  great  anachronism  he  antedates  the 
election  of  the  Antipope  Felix  by  the  Council  at  Basle,  and  makes  it  a 
tMt  between  the  rival  Pontiffs.  —  Ivi.  p.  267.    Edit  Bonn. 

2  Syropulus,  p.  57. 
s  The  treaty  in  Phranza,  p.  118. 


20  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXHI. 

of  his  own  grandeur.  The  West  would  lay  itself  at 
his  feet ;  he  might  be  chosen  the  successor  of  Sigis- 
mund,  and  reunite  the  great  Christian  commonwealth 
under  one  sovereign.^ 

But  he  had  great  difficulty  in  persuading  the  heads 
of  his  Church  to  embark  on  a  perilous  voyage  to  a  dis- 
tant and  foreign  Council,  where  their  few  voices  might 
be  overborne  by  multitudes.  Joseph  the  Patriarch  was 
old,  infirm,  of  feeble  character :  he  yielded  with  ungra- 
cious reluctance,^  but  scrupled  not  to  compel  the  at- 
tendance of  his  more  prudent  and  fiir-sighted  clergy. 
They  too  found  consolation  to  their  vanity,  food  for 
their  ambition.  "  The  barbarous  and  ignorant  West 
would  bow  before  the  learning  and  profound  theology 
of  the  successors  of  Basil,  the  Gregories,  and  Chrysos- 
tom."  Nor  were  they  without  some  vague  notions  of 
the  prodigal  and  overflowing  wealth  of  the  West :  they 
would  return  having  achieved  a  victory  by  their  irre- 
sistible arguments,  and  at  the  same  time  with  money 
enough  to  pay  their  debts.*  If  the  Latins  should  stand 
aloof  in  sullen  obstinacy,  they  would  return  with  the 
pride  of  having  irradiated  Italy  with  the  truth,  and  of 
having  maintained  in  the  face  of  Rome  the  cause  of 
orthodoxy ;  at  the  worst,  they  could  but  die  as  glorious 
martyrs  for  that  truth.*  The  Patriarch  labored  under 
still  more  extravagant  illusions.     ^^  When  the  Eastern 

I  STTopulas,  p.  86. 

3  See  his  speech  (Sjropiiliis,  p.  16)  in  the  time  of  Pope  Martin,  in  which 
he  predicts  the  inevitable  humiliation  from  attending  a  Coancil  in  Italy,  at 
the  expense  of  the  Westerns.    *Ev  yovv  t£>  ^tteX^bIv  o^u  koI  kKdixetr^ai 

ittUVOi  d^  KVpUH. 

*  Syropulus,  p.  63,  3.    Kai  imeXevaoiie^a  koI  iirmarphpoiuv  vuairat 

rpomuovxoi* 

*  Syropaliifl,  ibid. 


CBAP.Xni.    EMPEROR  ACCEPTS  OFFER  OF  ROME.  21 

Emperor  should  behold  the  pomp  of  the  Pope,  the 
lowly  deference  paid  to  their  ecclesiastical  superiors  by 
the  great  potentates  of  the  West,  he  would  take  les- 
sons of  humility,  and  no  longer  mistake  the  relative 
dignity  of  the  spiritual  and  temporal  Sovereign."^ 
These  strange  and  chimerical  hopes  blinded  some  at 
least  to  the  danger  of  their  acts,  and  even  mitigated  for 
a  time  their  inextinguishable  hatred  of  the  Latins  ;  for 
the  Latin  conquest  of  Constantinople  still  left  its  deep 
indelible  animosity  in  the  hearts  of  the  Greek  Church- 
men. They  had  been  thrust  from  their  Sees;  Latin 
Bishops  speaking  a  foreign  tongue  had  been  forced  upon 
their  flocks ;  they  had  been  stripped  of  their  revenues, 
reduced  to  poverty  and  contempt.  On  the  reconquest 
of  Constantinople,  the  Cantacuzenes  and  Palaeologi  had 
resumed  the  full  temporal  sovereignty,  but  the  Church 
had  recovered  only  a  portion  of  its  influence,  wealth, 
and  power.  Even  in  Constantinople,  still  more  in 
many  cities  of  the  Empire,  the  Latin  Bishops  still 
claimed  a  coordinate  authority,  refused  to  be  deposed, 
and,  where  the  Franks  were  in  force,  maintained  their 
thrones.  There  were  at  least  titular  Latin  Bishops  of 
most  of  the  great  Eastern  Sees. 

The  Emperor  and  the  Patriarch  determined  to  ao 
cept  the  invitation  of  the  Pope,  and  to  reject  Emperor 
that  of  the  Council.     Vague  and  terrible  no-  X^S  **"* 
tions  of  the  danger  of  surmounting  the  Alps,  ***"•• 
or  of  the  interminable  voyage  to  Marseilles,  if  Avig- 
non should  be  the  seat  of  the  Council ;  the  more  doubt- 
ful, less  profuse  promises  of  money  for  the  voyage  from 
the  Council ;  the  greater  dexterity  and  address  of  the 

1  Syropaliu,  p.  92.    Kal  dn^  rov  naira  k^af»^i  iXev^epCtaat  r^v  iiucXrfaUaf 
hrd  T^  hnriMatfc  airrov  6ovXeia(  napd  rov  paaiXiuC'  —  «.  t.  A. 


22  LATDIf  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIU. 

Papal  Legate,  wrought  powerfully  on  their  minds. 
The  fetal  and  insulting  declaration  of  the  Council  — 
"  They  had  subdued  the  new  heresy  of  the  Bohemians, 
they  should  easily  subdue  the  old  heresy  of  the  Greeks"  ^ 
—  had  been  industriously  reported,  and  could  not  be 
forgiven.  More  politic  Rome  made  no  such  mistake : 
her  haughtiness  could  wait  its  time,  could  reserve  itself 
in  bland  courteousness  till  the  adversary  was  in  her 
power,  at  her  feet. 

Eight  Papal  galleys,  furnished  in  Venice  and  in 
ittTEi  fleets.  Crete,  entered  the  harbor  of  Constantinople. 
They  had  not  long  arrived  when  it  was  heard  that  the 
fleet  of  the  Council  was  drawing  near.  The  Council 
had  at  length  prevailed  on  the  city  of  Avignon  to  fur- 
hiah  the  necessary  fiinds ;  the  ships  had  been  hired  and 
manned  at  Marseilles.  The  Roman  Admiral,  the 
Pope's  nephew  Condolmieri,  produced  his  commission 
to  bum,  sink,  or  destroy  the  hostile  fleet.  He  gave 
orders  to  his  squadron  to  set  sail  and  encounter  the  in- 
solent enemy .2  It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  the 
Emperor  prevented  a  battle  between  the  fleets  of  the 
Pope  and  of  the  Council:  an  edifying  proof  to  the 
Turks,  who  occupied  part  of  the  shores,  of  the  unity 
of  Christendom  !  — to  the  Greeks  a  significant  but  dis- 
regarded warning,  as  to  the  advantages  which  they 
might  expect  from  their  concessions  to  Western  Chris- 
tendom, itself  in  such  a  state  of  fatal  disunion  ! 

Afker  nearly  three  months'  delay  —  delay  afterwards 
bitterly  reproached  by  the  Pope  against  the  Greeks,  as 

^  Syiopnlas,  |>.  37. 

•  MoXic  o^  (5fd  iroXkuv  Xoyuv  Kot  ftqwfidTuv  Kareireiae  rbv  Kavr^jovfiipriv, 
KtH  iiaitxftoe,  -^  Syropalas,  p.  55.  The  Papal  Legates  had  pennaded  the 
Greeks  that  the  Council  of  Basle  was  dissolred. 


GsAr.XHL  THE  6SEEKS  KMBAKK>  23 

having  involyed  much  loss  of  time  and  needless  expense 
—  the  Emperor  and  the  Patriarch  emharked  on  board 
the  Venetian  galleys.  The  Emperor  was  accompanied 
by  his  hrother,  the  Despot  Demetrius,  whom  it  might 
be  dangerous  to  leave  behind  at  Constantinople ;  and 
attended  by  a  Court,  the  magnificence  of  whose  titles 
might  make  up  for  their  moderate  numbers.  The 
Church  made  even  a  more  imposing  display.  The  Pa- 
triarch was  encircled  by  the  Bishops  of  the  most  fa- 
mous Sees  in  the  East,  some  of  them  men  of  real 
distinction.  There  were  those  who  either  held  or  were 
supposed  to  be  the  representatives  of  the  three  Patriar- 
chates now  under  Moslem  dominion  —  Antioch,  Alex- 
andria, Jerusalem ;  the  Primate  of  Russia,  whose 
wealth  excited  the  wonder  and  envy  of  the  Greeks; 
Bessarion  Archbishop  of  Nicea,  and  Mark  of  Ephesus, 
the  two  most  renowned  for  their  learning ;  the  Prelates 
of  Cyzicum,  Heraclea,  Nicomedia,  Trebizond,  Lace- 
da^iion,  and  other  fiimous  names.  The  greater  monas- 
teries were  represented  by  some  of  their  Archiman- 
drites. The  Patriarch  was  attended,  in  his  person,  by 
all  the  high  officers  and  the  inferior  dignitaries  of  St. 
Sophia,  the  cross-bearers,  the  whole  choir  of  singers, 
the  treasurer,  the  guardian  of  the  books,  the  guardian 
of  the  vestments,  the  guardian  of  those  who  claimed 
the  right  of  asylum,  the  expounder  of  the  Canon  Law, 
and  Syropulus,  the  Ecclesiast  or  the  Preacher.  The 
last  avenged  the  compulsion  laid  upon  him  to  follow 
his  master  to  Ferrara  and  Florence  by  writing  a  lively 
and   bold  history  of  the  whole  proceedings.^      The 

1  This  remarkable  work  of  Syropulus  is  the  chief  and  trustworthy  au- 
thority for  the  voyage,  personal  adventures,  and  personal  feelings  of  the 
Greeks. 


24  LATIN  CHRISTIANirr.  BooKXm. 

preparations,  both  of  the  Emperor  and  the  Patriarch, 
made  an  incongruous  display  of  pomp  and  poverty. 
The  Emperor,  that  he  might  appear  as  the  magnificent 
Sovereign  of  the  East,  to  the  indi<niation  of  the  Church 
appropriated  and  lavished  the  sacred  treasures,  which 
had  been  sent  as  votive  ofierings  by  rich  worshippers, 
on  his  own  adornments,  on  a  golden  chariot,  and  cloth 
of  gold  for  his  bed.  It  was  proposed  that  the  Patri- 
arch alone  should  appear  in  becoming  state ;  the  Bish- 
ops without  their  useless  copes  and  dalmatics,  in  the 
coarse  dress  and  cowls  of  simple  monks.  It  was  an- 
swered that  the  haughtv  Latins  would  scoff  at  their 
indigence.  Notwithstanding  the  prodigies  which  re- 
monstrated against  their  removal,  the  sacred  vessels  of 
St.  Sophia  were  borne  off,  that  the  Patriarch  might 
everywhere  be  able  to  celebrate  Mass  in  unpolluted 
patens  and  chalices,  and  without  being  exposed  to  the 
contemptuous  toleration  of  the  Latins.  When,  how- 
ever, on  the  division  of  the  first  Papal  subsidy  (15,000 
florins),  the  Emperor  assigned  only  the  sum  of  6000 
to  the  clergy,  the  Patriarch  resolutely  declared  that  he 
would  not  proceed  to  the  Council.  The  Emperor  was 
no  less  stubborn :  he  gave  the  Patriarch  1000  for  his 
own  use,  and  distributed  the  5000  among  the  clergy ; 
to  the  richer  less,  to  the  poor  more.^ 

An  earthquake  (dire  omen  I)  shook  the  city  as  they 
TheToyage.  sct  Sail.  The  voyagc  was  long,  seventy- 
seven  days.  The  timid  landsman,  the  Ecclesiast,  may 
have  exaggerated  its  discomforts  and  perils.  It  was 
humiliating  alike  to  the  Emperor  and  to  the  Patriarch. 
As  they  passed  Gallipoli  they  were  saluted  with  show- 
ers of  javelins  from  the  Turkish  forts.  In  another  place, 

1  Syropulus,  63. 


CHAP.Xm.  ASBIVAL  AT  VENICE.  25 

though  there  was  no  declared  war,  the  Hagarenes 
would  scarcely  allow  them  to  take  in  water.  The 
Emperor  hardly  escaped  falling  into  the  hands  of  some 
Catalan  pirates.  The  Patriarch,  when  he  landed,  had 
to  endure  the  parsimonious  courtesy  and  the  niggard 
hospitality  of  the  Latin  Prelates  who  occupied  Greek 
Sees  on  the  coast.^ 

Nothing,  however,  could  equal  the  magnificence  of 
their  reception  at  Venice.  The  pride  of  the  AniTaiat 
Republic  was  roused  to  honor,  no  doubt  to  ^•°*«®- 
dazzle,  so  distinguished  a  guest.  As  they  approached 
the  Lagunes,  the  Doge  rowed  forth  in  the  Bucen* 
taur,  with  twelve  other  galleys,  the  mariners  in  silken 
dresses,  the  awnings  and  flags  of  silk,  the  emblazoned 
banners  of  St.  Mark  waving  gorgeously  above.  The 
sea  was  absolutely  covered  with  gondolas  and  galleys. 
"  You  might  as  well  number  the  leaves  of  the  trees, 
the  sands  of  the  sea,  or  the  drops  of  rain."  The 
amazement  of  the  Greeks  at  the  splendor,  wealth, 
and  populousness  of  Venice  forcibly  shows  how  Con- 
stantinople had  fallen  from  her  Imperial  state :  — 
"  Venice  the  wonderful  —  most  wonderful  I  Venice 
the  wise  —  most  wise!  The  city  foreshown  in  the 
Psalm, '  God  has  founded  her  upon  the  waters.'  "  ^ 

The  respectful  homage  of  the  Doge  to  the  Emperor 
was  construed  by  the  Greeks  into  adoration.^  He 
was  conducted  (all  the  bells  of  the  city  loudly  pealing, 
and  music   everywhere   sounding)  up  to  the  Rialto. 

1  See  the  voyage  in  Syropuliu  at  length,  with  many  amusing  incidents 
hy  land  and  sea,  69,  et  uq.  Gibbon  justly  says  that "  tiie  historian  has  the 
uncommon  talent  of  placing  each  scene  before  the  reader's  eye."  — Note  c. 
rvi.  p.  99. 

S  Phranza,  ii.  15,  p.  181,  6.    Edit  Bonn. 

*  Phranza  says,  irpootKVVfiae  rdv  PaaiXea  Kodijfuvov. 


26  LATIN  CHBISTlANlTy.  Book  XHI. 

There  he  was  lodged  in  a  noble  and  spacious  palace : 
the  Patriarch  in  the  monastery  of  St.  George.  The 
Patriarch  visited  tlie  church  of  St.  Mark.  The  Greeks 
gazed  in  utter  astonishment  at  the  walls  and  ceilings 
glittering  with  mosaics  of  gold  and  precious  stones, 
and  the  carvings  in  precious  woods.  The  great  treas- 
ury, shown  only  twice  a  year,  flew  open  before  them : 
they  beheld  the  vast  and  incalculable  mass  of  gold  and 
jewels,  wrought  with  consummate  art,  and  set  in  the 
most  exquisite  forms ;  but  amid  their  amazement  rose 
the  bitter  thought,  "  These  were  once  our  own  :  they 
are  the  plunder  of  our  Santa  Sophia,  and  of  our  holy 
monasteries."  ^ 

The  Doge  gave  counsel  to  the  Emperor  —  wise 
Venetian  counsel,  but  not  quite  in  accordance  with 
the  close  alliance  of  Venice  with  the  Pope,  or  her  re- 
spect for  her  mitred  son,  Eugenius  IV.^  He  might 
take  up  his  abode  in  Venice,  duly  balance  the  offers 
of  the  Pope  and  the  Council  of  Basle,  and  accept  the 
terms  most  advantageous  to  himself  or  his  Empire. 

If  the  Emperor  hesitated,  he  was  determined  by  the 
arrival  of  Cardinal  Caesarini,  deputed  by  the  Pope, 
with  the  Marquis  of  Este,  to  press  his  immediate  pres- 
jsn.  9, 1438.  cncc  at  Fcrrara.  Julian  Caesarini  had  now 
abandoned  the  Council  of  Basle :  his  desertion  to  the 

1  Syropulus.  There  was  one  splendid  image  wrought  entirely  out  of  the 
gold  and  jewels  taken  in  Constantinople :  Tolg  fuv  K€KTijfiEvoic  KavxvfJta  kcu 
rep^u^  kyivero  Koi  ifSov^,  raic  6*  a^cupeddaiv  el  Trot)  koI  7raparr;fot«», 
ir^fua  Kol  Tivnri  koI  Kaiifi^eui^  ug  koI  ^fuv  Tore  avvipij.  S^Topulus  is 
bettor  authority  than  Ducas,  and  would  hardly  have  suppressed,  if  he  had 
witnessed  the  wonder  of  the  Venetians  at  the  celebration  of  the  Mass  by 
the  Greeks  according  to  their  own  rite.  "  *  Verily,'  '*  writes  Ducas,  "  they 
exclaimed  in  wonder,  *  these  are  the  first-bom  of  the  Church,  and  the  Holy 
Ghost  speaks  in  them.*  "  —  Ducas,  c.  xxxL 

s  Syropulus,  p.  Sd. 


Chap.  XUI.  TEBRARA.  27 

hostile  camp  might  indicate  that  their  cause  was  sink- 
ing towards  desperation.  He  was  now  the  Legate  of  the 
Pope,  not  that  of  the  majority,  it  might  be,  but  dwin- 
dling, more  democratic,  almost  discomfited,  majority  at 
Basle.i 

Early  in  March  the  Emperor  set  forward  to  Feri-ara. 
He  travelled  (it  was  so  arranged)  partly  by  water, 
partly  by  land,  with  greater  speed  than  the  aged 
Patriarch,  who  was  highly  indignant,  as  the  Church 
ought  to  have  taken  precedence.  In  the  reception  of 
the  Emperor  at  Ferrara  all  was  smooth  cour-  ^j,^  Emperor 
tesy.  He  rode  a  magnificent  black  charger ;  **  **™"*- 
another  of  pure  white,  with  trappings  emblazoned  with 
golden  eagles,  was  led  before  him.  The  Princes  of 
Este  bore  the  canopy  over  his  head.  He  rode  into 
the  courts  of  the  Papal  palace,  dismounted  at  the  stair- 
case, was  welcomed  at  the  door  of  the  chamber  by  the 
Tope,  He  was  not  permitted  to  kneel,  but  saluted 
with  a  holy  kiss,  and  took  his  seat  at  the  Pope's  right 
hand.  The  attendants  had  indeed  lifted  up  the  hem 
of  the  Pope's  garment,  and  exposed  his  foot,  but  of 
this  the  Greeks  took  no  notice.  The  Patriarch  moved 
more  slowly:  his  barge  was  splendidly  adorned,^  but 
there  ended  his  idle  honors.      He  had  still  March  4. 

1  There  is  however  considerable  difficulty,  and  there  are  conflicting  au- 
thorities as  to  the  time,  at  which  Julian  Ciesarini,  the  Cardinal  of  St.  An- 
gelo,  left  Basle  (see  Fea's  note  to  ^neas  Sylvius,  p.  128):  and  also  whether, 
as  Sanuto  asserts,  he  appeared  before  the  Emperor  of  the  East,  not  as  rep- 
resentative of  the  Pope,  but  of  the  Council.  Caesarini  seems  to  have  been 
in  a  state  of  embarrassment:  he  attempted  to  mediate  between  the  more 
violent  and  the  papalizing  parties  at  Basle.  He  lingered  for  some  mouths 
m  this  doubtfhl  state.  Though  accredited  by  the  Pope  at  Venice,  he  may 
have  giwn  hunself  out  as  representing  the  sounder,  though  smaller  part 
of  the  Council  of  Basle.    This  was  evidently  the  tone  of  the  Engenians. 

*  Phranza  compares  it  to  Noah*s  Ark.  He  was  astonished  with  its  sump- 
tnoosness  and  accommodation.  —  P.  189. 


28  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  xm. 

cherished  the  fond  hope  that  the  Pope  would  receive 
him  as  his  equal.  He  had  often  boasted  that  the 
Patriarchate  would  now  be  delivered  from  its  base 
subjection  to  the  Empire.  He  was  met  by  a  mes- 
senger with  the  tidings  that  the  Pope  expected  him 
ji^^jj  g  to  kneel  in  adoration  and  kiss  his  foot.  This 
A.D.  1438.  degrading  ceremony  his  own  Bishops  had  de- 
clined.^ "  If  he  is  the  successor  of  St.  Peter,"  said 
the  Patriarch  in  his  bitterness,  "  so  are  we  of  the  other 
Apostles.  Did  they  kiss  St.  Peter's  feet?  "  No  Car- 
dinals came  out  to  meet  him,  only  six  Bishops,  at  the 
bridge.  His  own  Bishops,  who  were  with  him,  re- 
proached the  Patriarch :  "  Are  these  the  honors  with 
which  you  assured  us  we  were  to  be  received  ?  "  The 
Patriarch  threatened  to  return  home.  The  Pope,  dis- 
appointed in  the  public  humiliation  of  the  Patriarch 
at  his  feet,  would  grant  only  a  private  audience.  In 
the  morning  they  all  mounted  horses  furnished  by  the 
Marquis  of  Este,  and  rode  to  the  gates  of  the  Papal 
palace.  All  but  the  Patriarch  alighted.  He  rode 
through  the  courts  to  the  foot  of  the  staircase.  They 
passed  through  a  suit  of  chambers,  through  an  array 
of  attendants  with  silver  wands  of  office.  The  doors 
closed  behind  them.  They  were  admitted  only  six 
at  a  time  to  the  presence  of  the  Pope.  Eugenius  was 
seated  with  only  his  Cardinals  around.  He  welcomed 
the  Patriarch  with  a  brotherly  salute.  The  Patriarch 
took  his  seat  somewhat  lower,  on  a  level  with  the  Car- 
dinals. His  cross-bearers  did  not  accompany  him  :  they 
came  last,  and  were  permitted  to  kiss  the  hand  and  the 
cheek  of  the  Pope.  Now  as  afterwards,  in  their  more 
private  intercourse,  the  Pope  and  the  Patriarch  being 

^  Syropalas,  p.  95. 


GBAP.XnL  DISCONTENT  OF  THE  GREEKS.  29 

ignorant,  the  one  of  Greek,  the  other  of  Latin,  dis- 
coursed through  an  interpreter.^ 

The  Greeks  had  not  been  many  days  at  Ferrara, 
ere  they  began  to  suspect  that  the  great  ob-  iMscontent 
ject  of  the  Pope  was  his  own  aggrandizement,  Greeks. 
the  strengthening  of  his  power  against  the  Council 
of  Basle.  They  looked  with  jealousy  on  every  aiir 
fiil  attempt  to  degrade  their  Patriarch  from*  his  ab- 
solute coequality  with  the  Pope,  on  his  lower  seat, 
and  the  limitation  of  the  honors  paid  to  him  ;  they  re- 
proached the  Patriarch  with  every  seeming  concession 
to  the  Papal  pride.^  Before  they  met  in  the  Council, 
they  had  the  prudence  curiously  to  inspect  the  arrange- 
ments in  the  great  church.  They  found  a  lofty  and 
sumptuous  throne  raised  for  the  Pope  in  the  midst: 
the  rest  were  to  sit,  as  it  were,  at  his  feet.  Even  the 
Emperor  was  roused  to  indignation.  After  much  dis- 
pute it  was  agreed  that  the  Pope  should  occupy  a 
central  throne,  but  slightly  elevated.  On  his  right, 
was  a  vacant  chair  for  the  Emperor  of  the  West,  then 
the  Cardinals  and  dignitaries  of  the  Latin  Church  ;  on 
his  left,  the  seat  of  the  Eastern  Emperor,  followed  by 
the  Patriarch  and  the  Greek  clergy.  But  the  affairs 
dragged  languidly  on.  The  Pope  affected  to  expect 
submission  of  the  Fathers  of  Basle.  The  Italian  Prel- 
ates were  by  no  means  imposing  in  numbers ;  of  the 
other  Latin  clergy  were  very  few.  The  only  ambas- 
sadors, those  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy.  The  Greeks 
perhaps  knew  not  in  what  terms  the  Western  clergy 
had  been  summoned.     ^^  If  the  Latins  had  any  parental 

^  Syropnlus,  p.  96. 

>  The  Bishop  of  Trebisond  was  luiuiUy  the  spokesman.    Syropolas,  p. 
ItfO. 


80  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XHL 

love  they  would  hasten  to  welcome  the  prodigal  son : 
the  Greek  Church  returning  to  his  father's  home." 
The  appeal  to  the  charity  of  the  Latins  had  no  great 
result  The  Patriarch  had  joined  with  the  Pope  at 
the  first  Session  in  an  anathema,  if  they  should  con- 
tmnaciously  remain  aloof  from  this  Council.  Awe  was 
as  powerless  as  love. 

The  Emperor  retired  to  a  monastery  about  six  miles 
from  Ferrara,  and  abandoned  himself  to  the  pleasures 
of  the  chase.  The  husbandmen  in  vain  remonstrated 
against  his  wanton  destruction  of  their  crops,  the  Mar- 
quis of  Ferrara  ^  against  his  slaughter  of  the  pheasants 
and  quails  which  he  had  preserved  at  great  cost.^  The 
Patriarch  and  the  clergy  were  left  to  suffer  every  kind 
of  humiliating  indignity,  and  worse  than  indignity* 
They  were  constantly  exposed  to  endure  actual  hunger; 
their  allowance  in  wine,  fish,  meat  was  scanty  and  ir- 
regular ;  their  stipends  in  money  always  many  montha 
in  arrear.  They  were  close  prisoners ;  ^  rigid  polioe 
watched  at  the  gates  of  the  city:  no  one  could  stir 
without  a  passport.^  The  Bishop  of  Ferrara  refiised 
them  one  of  the  great  churches  to  celebrate  Mass  ac- 
cording to  their  own  rite :  he  would  not  have  his  holy 
edifice  polluted.  Three  of  them  made  their  escape  to 
Venice,  and  were  ignominiously  brought  back.  A 
second  time  they  contrived  to  fly,  and  found  their  way 


^  Nicolas  III.  of  Este.  LaonicuB  Chalcondylafl  takes  the  opportmiily  of 
telling  of  the  Marquis  tht  dreadfiil  stoiy  which  is  the  groundwork  of  Lord 
Byron's  "  Parisina."  — .**  288,  &c 

*  Raynald.  sub  ami. 

*  This  ancient  Itali4kj  usage,  that  no  one  could  leave  a  city  without  a 
passport  from  the  authorities,  astonished  the  Greeks.  —  Syropulus,  p.  141. 

^  Syropulus,  ibid.  He  is  indignant:  Ovtu{  6  HvevfMTiKOC  ian^p  rtfiOf 
tyvu  Tovc  Tou  dyiov  Hvevftaroc  inr^pirac* 


Cbap.  Xni.  THE  PLAGUE  AT  FERRARA.  31 

to  Constantinople.  The  indignant  Patriarch  sent  home 
orders  that  the  recreants  should  be  suspended  from  their 
office,  and  soundly  flogged.^  Tidings  in  the  mean  time 
arrived,  fortunately  exaggerated,  that  the  Ottoman 
who  had  condescended  to  grant  a  precarious  peace, 
threatened  Constantinople;  the  Pope  evaded  the  de- 
mand for  succor.  He,  indeed,  himself  was  hardly  safe. 
The  bands  of  Nicolas  Piccinino,  Captain  of  a  terrible 
Free  Company,  had  seized  Forli  and  Bologna. 

The  miserable  Greek  clei^  urged  the  Patriarch,  the 
slow  and  irresolute  Patriarch  at  length  urged  the  Eid- 
peror,  too  well  amused  with  his  hunting,  to  insist  on 
the  regular  opening  of  the  Council.  ^^  We  must  wak 
the  arrival  of  the  ambassadors  from  the  Sovereigns  and 
Princes,  of  more  Cardinals  and  Bishops;  the  few  at 
present  in  Ferrara  cannot  presume  to  form  an  (Ecu- 
menic CounciL''  Autumn  drew  on ;  with  autumn  the 
plague  began  to  appear.  Of  the  eleven  Cardinals  only 
five,  of  the  one  hundred  and  sixty  Bishops  only  fifty 
remained  in  Ferrara.  The  Greeks  escaped  the  ravage 
of  the  pestilenqe,  all  but  the  Russians :  they  sufiered  a 
fearful  decimation.^ 

Not,  indeed,  that  the  whole  of  this  time  had  been 
wasted  in  inactivity.  Conferences  had  been  held: 
private  Synods,  not  recognized  as  formal  acts  of  the 
Council,  had  defined  the  four  great  points  of  difference 
between  the  Gredc  and  Latin  Churches.  Scandalous 
rumors  indeed  were  disseminated  that  the  Greeks  were 
guilty  of  fifty-four  articles  of  heresy ;  these  charges 
were  disdained  as  of  no  authority ;  but  the  Greeks 
were  not  less  affected,  and  not  less  despised  and  hated 
by  the  mass  of  the  people  for  such  disclaimer.     The 

1  Syiopaliu,  p.  1S5.  >  Id.  p.  144. 


82  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIIL 

Council  was  at  length  formally  opened  ;  but  through- 
out it  was  skilfully  contrived  that  while  there  was  the 
most  irreverent  confusion  among  the  Greeks,  the  Pa- 
triarch was  treated  with  studied  neglect,  the  Emperor 
himself,  with  reluctant  and  parsimonious  honors ;  the 
Pope  maintained  his  serene  dignity ;  all  the  homage 
paid  to  him  was  skilfully  displayed.  The  Greeks  were 
jealous  of  each  other  ;  the  courtly  and  already  waver- 
ing Prelate  of  Nicea  was  in  constant  collision  with  the 
ruder  but  more  faithful  Mark  of  Ephesus ;  they  could 
not  but  feel  and  betray,  they  knew  not  how  to  resent, 
their  humiliation.!  Their  dismay  and  disgust  was  con- 
summated by  news  of  the  intended  adjournment  of  the 
Council  to  Florence.  They  would  not  at  first  believe 
it ;  the  Emperor  was  obliged  to  elude  their  remon- 
strances by  ambiguous  answers.  The  terrors  of  the 
plague,  which  Syropulus  avers  had  passed  away  for 
two  months  ;  the  promises  of  better  supplies,  and  more 
regular  payments  in  rich  and  fertile  Tuscany;  the 
neighborhood  of  commodious  havens,  where  they  might 
embark  for  Greece ;  above  all,  starvation,  not  only 
feared,  but  almost  actually  suflFered :  all  were  as  noth- 
ing against  the  perils  of  a  journey  over  the  wild  and 
unknown  Apennines,  perhaps  beset  by  the  marauding 
troops  of  Piccinino,  the  greater  distance  from  Venice, 
and,  therefore,  from  their  home.  Already  the  Bishop 
of  Heraclea,  the  homophylax,  and  even  Mark  of  Ephe- 
sus, had  attempted  flight,  and  had  been  brought  back 
by  actual  force  or  by  force  disguised  as  persuasion.* 
The  clergy  with  undissembled  reluctance,*  or  rather 

I  See  all  the  Utter  part  of  the  6th  section  of  SyropuliiB. 

*  Syropuliu,  151. 

•  Kal  Tcavrec  rd  r^r  fura^eoQ  detvbv  dfuvdc  kxTpayaiovvTec  kcU 


CHAP.Xm.  JOUBl^T  TO  FLORENCE.  38 

under  strong  compulsion,  the  Emperor  with  ungracious 
compliance,  yielded  at  length  to  the  unavoid-  journey  to 
able  necessity.  Tlie  Emperor  and  the  Pa-  *'*«*"'°<^- 
triarchy  the  Pope  and  his  Cardinals  found  their  long 
way  to  Florence,  not  indeed  by  the  ordinary  roads,  for 
the  enemy  occupied  Bologna,  but,  according  to  the 
Greeks,  with  the  haste  and  secrecy  of  flight ;  to  the 
Latins,  with  the  dignity  of  voluntary  retirement.  The 
Pope  travelled  by  Modena  ;  the  Emperor  and  the  Pa- 
triarch by  Faenza,  and  thence  in  three  days  over  the 
savage  Apennines  to  Florence.^ 

In  Basle,  meantime,  the  Nations  continued  their 
sessions,  utterly  despising  the  idle  menaces  Baaie. 
of  the  Pope,  and  the  now  concurrent  anathemas  of 
the  Greeks.  The  Cardinal  Louis  Archbishop  of  Aries, 
a  man  of  all-respected  piety  and  learning,  had  taken 
the  place  as  President,  on  the  secession  of  Cardinal 
Julian  Caesarini.  But  not  only  Caasarini,  the  Cardinal 
of  St.  Peter's  and  many  others  had  fallen  off  from  the 
Council ;  the  King  of  Arragon,  the  Duke  of  Milan 
menaced  away  their  Filiates.  None,  it  was  said,  re- 
mained, but  those  without  benefices,  or  those  from  the 
kingdoms  of  which  the  Sovereigns  cared  nothing  for 
these  religious  disputes.  Amadeus  of  Savoy  compelled 
his  Bishops  to  join  the  Council,  to  make  up  a  suffi- 
cient number  to  depose  the  Pope.^  The  death  of  the 
Emperor  Sigismund,  whose  presence  in  the  dm.  9,  i487. 
Council  had  no  doubt  raised  its  credit  in  the  minds 

aimadafievoif  kcU  rrpdc  ifinodiafidv  raiynK  Traina  6<ja  ivi^  "Xkyovreg.  — 
Syropulufl,  p.  184. 

1  There  is  now  a  noble  road  from  Fori!  to  Florence;  but  before  this  road 
was  made  it  mu»t  have  been  a  wild  and  terrific  joomej,  especially  to  th« 
sedentary  Greek  of  GonAtantinople. 

*  ^neas  Sylvius,  p.  76. 

VOL.  VIII.  3 


84  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  Xm. 

of  men,  was  a  fatal  blow  to  the  cause  of  Reformation. 
His  son-in-law,  Albert,  was  chosen  at  Frankfort  King 
of  the  Romans ;  bat  Albert's  disposition  on  this  mo- 
mentous subject  was  undeclared ;  his  power  not  yet 
Atvrank-      Confirmed.     The   Geiinan   Diet  now  took  a 

tnrt, 

A.i>'  1438.  lofty  tone  of  neutrality  ;  they  would  not  in- 
terfere in  the  quaiTel  (it  had  sunk  into  a  quarrel) 
between  the  Pope  and  the  Council.  In  vain  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Palermo,  in  the  name  of  the  Council,  urged 
that  it  was  the  cause  of  ecclesiastical  freedom,  of  holy 
religion.  Even  the  great  German  Prelates  heard  in 
apathy.^ 

Not  so  the  kingdom  of  France.  On  the  1st  of  May 
Prance.  tho  GalHcau  Hierarchy,  at  the  summons  of 
Sanction.  the  King,  assembled  in  a  national  Synod  at 
Bourges.  The  Kings  and  the  clergy  of  France  had 
seldom  let  pass  an  opportunity  of  declaring  their  own 
distinctive  and  almost  exclusive  independence  on  the 
Papal  power.  At  the  same  time  that  they  boasted 
their  titles,  as  inherited  from  Pepin  or  Charlemagne 
as  the  defenders,  protectors,  conservators  of  the  Holy 
See,  it  was  with  reservation  of  their  own  peculiar 
rights.  They  would  leave  the  rest  of  the  world  pros- 
trate at  the  Pope's  feet,  they  would  even  assist  the 
Pope  in  compelling  their  prostration ;  in  France  alone 
they  would  set  limits  to,  and  exercise  coutrol  over  that 
power.  Even  St.  Louis,  the  author  of  the  first  Prag- 
matic Sanction,  in  all  other  respects  the  meekest  Cath- 

1  These  verses  are  of  the  time :  — 

"  Ut  primum  nugnl  coepit  dtecordia  cleri 
Dicnnt  Germani,  nos  sine  parte  flomiu. 
Hoc  abi  non  rectam  docti  docuere  magistri 
Bospcodaiit  animof ,  gutton  non  sapinnt." 


CHAP.Xm.  SYNOD  AT  BOUBGES.  35 

olic  Christian,  was  still  King  of  France.     The  King, 
or  rather   the  King's    advisers,  the   Legists   and   the 
Counsellors  in  the  Parliament,  saw  that  it  was  an  in- 
estimable  occasion  for  the  extension  or   confirmation 
of  the  royal   prerogative.      The   clergy,  though  they 
had  attended  in  no  great  numbers,  were  still  in  gen- 
eral  adherents  of  the  Council  of  Basle.      The   doc- 
trines of  Geraon  and  of  the  University  of  Paris  were 
their  guides.    At  the  great  Synod  of  Bourges  synodat 
the  King  proposed,  the  clergy  eagerly  adopted  a.d.  ftss. 
the  decrees,  of  the  Council.      Yet  though   they  fully 
admitted  the  Assembly  of  Basle  to  be   a   legitimate 
OBcumenic  Council,  to  which  all  Christians,  the  Pope 
himself,  owed  submission,  they  virtually  placed  them- 
selves above  Pope  or  Council.     They  did  not  submit 
to  the  Council  as  Legislator  of  Christendom  ;  their  own 
consent  and  reenactment  'was  necessary  to  make  the 
decree  of  Pope  or  Council   the  law  of  the  realm  of 
France.     The  new  Pragmatic  Sanction,  as  now  issued, 
admitted  certain  of  the  decrees  in  all  their  fulness,  from 
the  first  word  to  the  last ;  others  they  totally  rejected, 
some  they  modified,  or  partially  received.     The  Synod 
of  Bourges  assumed  to  be  a  coordinate,  or,  as  regarded 
France,  a  superior  Legislature.     It  asserted  the  rights 
of  national  churches  with  plenary  authority,  a  doctrine 
&tal  to  the  universal  monarchy  of  Rome,  but  not  less 
so  to  the  unity  of  the  Church,  as  represented  by  the 
Pope,  or  by  a  General  Council.    The  Pragmatic  Sanc- 
tion encountered  no  opposition.     It  enacted  these  pro- 
visions :  the  Pope  was  subject  to  a  General  Council, 
and  such  General  Council  the  Pope  was  bound  to  hold 
every  ten  years.     The  Pope  had  no  power  to  nominate 
to  the  great  ecclesiastical   benefices,  except  to  a  few 


36  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIH 

Specially  reserved ;  the  right  of  election  devolved  on 
those  to  whom  it  belonged.  The  Court  of  Rome  had 
no  right  to  the  collation  to  inferior  benefices ;  expecta- 
tives  or  grants  of  benefices  not  vacant  were  absolutely 
abolished.  Appeals  of  all  kinds  to  Rome  were  limited 
to  very  grave  cases.  No  one  was  to  be  disturbed  in 
his  possession  who  had  held  a  benefice  for  three  years. 
It  restricted  the  number  of  Cardinals  to  twenty-four, 
none  to  be  named  under  thirty  years  of  age.  Annates 
and  first-fruits  were  declared  simoniacal.  Priests  who 
retained  concubines  forfeited  their  emoluments  for  three 
months.  There  were  some  regulations  for  the  perform- 
ance of  divine  service.  The  Mass  was  to  be  chanted 
in  an  audible  voice  :  no  layman  was  to  sing  psalms  or 
hymns  in  the  vulgar  tongue  in  churches.  Spectacles 
of  all  sorts,  plays,  mummeries,  masks,  banquets  in 
churches  were  prohibited.  The  avoiding  all  com- 
merce with  the  excommunicated  was  limited  to  cases 
of  great  notoriety.  The  interdict  was  no  longer  to 
confound  in  one  sweeping  condemnation  the  innocent 
and  the  guilty.^ 

Thus,  then,  while  Germany  receded  into  a  kind  of 
haughty  indifference,  France,  as  far  as  France,  had 
done  the  work  of  the  Council.  The  Pragmatic  Sanc- 
tion was  her  reform  ;  the  dissolution  of  the  Council  by 
the  Pope,  the  deposition  of  the  Pope  by  the  Council, 
she  did  not  condescend  to  notice.  England,  now  on 
the  verge  of  her  great  civil  strife,  had  never  taken 
much  part  in  the  Council,  she  had  not  even  resented 
her  non-admission  as  a  Nation.     Even  Spain  and  Milan 

1  Conciliam  Bituricense,  apud  Labbe.  Ordonnances  de  France,  xiii.  p. 
987,  291.  L*£nfant,  Hist  da  Concile  de  Bale.  Compare  Sismondi,  Hist, 
des  Fnui9ai8,  xii.  p.  327. 


CHAP.Xni.  PRAGMATIC  SANCTION.  87 

had  to  a  certain  extent  withdrawn  their  sanction.  But 
still  the  Council  of  Basle  maintained  its  loftj  tone  ;  it 
must  have  had  deep  root  in  the  reverence  of  mankind, 
or  it  must  have  fallen  away  in  silent,  certain  dissolu- 
tion. 


88  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIII. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  COUNCIL  OF  FLORENCE. 

Florence  received  the  strangers  from  the  East  with 
splendid  hospitality.  The  Emperor,  after  some  eon- 
test,  allowed  the  Church  on  this  occasion  her  coveted 
precedence.^  The  Patriarch  arrived  first ;  he  was  met 
by  two  Cardinals  and  many  Bishops.  But  at  Florence 
curiosity  was  not  highly  excited  by  the  arrival  of  an 
aged  Churchman :  he  passed  on  almost  unregarded* 
Three  days  after  came  the  Emperor ;  the  city  was  in  a 
tumult  of  eager  wonder ;  the  roofs  were  crowded  with 
spectators ;  trumpets  and  instruments  of  music  rang 
through  the  streets  ;  all  the  bells  pealed  ;  but  the  mag- 
nificence of  the  pomp  (so  relates  the  Ecclesiast,  not 
"without  some  ill-suppressed  satisfaction)  was  marred  by 
deluges  of  rain.^  The  gorgeous  canopy  held  over  the 
Emperor's  head  was  drenched ;  he  and  all  the  specta- 
tors were  glad  to  find  refuge  in  their  houses. 

The  Council  of  Florence  began  with  due  solemnity 
its  grave  theological  discussions,  on  the  event  of  which 
might  seem  to  depend  the  active  interference  of  the 

1  Laonicns  Chalcondylas  describes  Florence  as  the  greatest  and  richest 
city  after  Venice.  'H  de  ^?Mp€VTia  nohf  iorlv  dXiSiurara  fieru  ye  t^ 
OveverCjv  rroXtv,  kcU  inl  Ifinopiav  lifia  koI  yeupyovi  napexofdvtj  toCc  uarodc* 
This  union  of  agriculture  with  trade  is,  I  presume,  to  distinguish  them 
from  the  Venetians.    He  enters  into  the  constitution  of  Florence. 

'^  Sjropaliis,  p.  218. 


CHAP.xnr.  COUNCIL  of  Florence.  89 

West  to  rescue  her  submissive  and  orthodox  brethren 
from  the  Mohammedan  yoke,  or  the  abandonment  of 
the  rebellious  and  heretical  race  to  the  irresistible  Otto- 
man. It  began  with  solemn  order  and  regularity. 
The  champions  were  chosen  on  each  side ;  on  the 
Latin,  the  most  distinguished  were  the  Cardinal  Julian 
CaBsarini,  the  late  President  of  the  Council  of  Basle, 
not  less  eminent  for  learning  than  for  political  wisdom ; 
and  John,  the  Provincial  General  of  the  Dominican 
Order  in  Lombardy,  esteemed  among  the  most  expert 
dialecticians  of  the  West.  On  the  side  of  the  Greeks 
were  Isidore  of  Russia,  the  courtly  Bessarion,  who 
might  seem  by  his  temper  and  moderation  (though  not 
unusual  accompaniments  of  real  learning)  not  to  have 
been  without  some  prophetic  foresight  of  the  Cardinal- 
ate,  and  the  quiet  ease  of  a  Western  Bishopric ;  and 
Mark  of  Ephesus,  whose  more  obstinate  fidelity  aspired 
to  be  the  Defender,  the  Saint,  the  Martyr  of  his  own 
unyielding  Church.  If  legend  were  to  be  believed  (and 
legend  is  still  alive  in  the  full  light  of  history)  the 
Greeks  were  indeed  incorrigible.  Miracle  was  wasted 
upon  them.  St.  Bernardino  of  Sienna  is  said  to  have 
displayed  the  first  recorded  instance  of  the  gift  of 
tongues  since  the  Day  of  Pentecost ;  he  disputed  flu- 
ently in  Greek,  of  which  he  could  not  before  speak  or 
understand  one  word.^ 

Already  at  Ferrara  the  four  great  questions  had  been 
proposed  which  alone  were  of  vital  difierence  to  the 
Greek  and  Latin  Churches.  I.  The  Procession  of  the 
Holy  Ghost,  whether  from  the  Father  alone,  or  like- 
wise from  the  Son.  II.  The  use  of  leavened  or  un- 
leavened bread   in   the   Eucharist.      III.    Purgatory. 

3 

1  Raynaldas  sub  anno. 


40  LATIN    CHiaSTIANITY.  Book  XIIL 

IV.  The  Supremacy  of  the  Pope.  At  Ferrara  the 
more  modest  discussion  had  chiefly  confined  itself  to 
the  less  momentous  questions,  those  on  which  the  pas- 
sions were  less  roused,  and  which  admitted  more  calm 
and  amicable  inquiry,  especially  that  of  Purgatory. 
At  Florence  they  plunged  at  once  into  the  great  ab- 
sorbing difficulty,  the  Procession  of  the  Holy  Ghost. 
This,  though  not  absolutely  avoided  at  Ferrara,  had 
been  debated  only,  as  it  were,  in  its  first  approaches. 
Yet,  even  on  this  point,^  where  the  object  with  the 
Latins,  and  with  the  more  enlightened  and  best  court- 
iers of  the  Greeks,  was  union  not  separation,  agreement 
not  stubborn  antagonism,  it  began  slowly  to  dawn  upon 
their  minds  that  the  oppugnancy  was  in  terms  rather 
than  in  doctrine  ;  the  discrepancy,  as  it  was  calmly  ex- 
amined, seemed  to  vanish  of  itself.  The  article,  how- 
ever, involved  two  questions,  one  of  the  profoundest 
theology,  the  other  of  canonical  law.  I.  Which  was 
the  orthodox  doctrine,  the  procession  of  the  Holy  Spirit 
from  the  Father  alone,  or  firom  the  Father  and  the 
Son  ?  II.  Even  if  the  latter  doctrine  were  sound,  by 
what  right  had  the  Latin  Church  of  her  sole  authority, 
in  defiance  of  the  anathema  of  one  or  more  of  the  four 
great  CEcumenic  Councils,  presumed  to  add  the  words 
"  and  the  Son "  to  the  creed  of  Nicea  ?  Which  of 
these  questions  should  take  precedence  was  debated 
with  obstinacy,  not  without  acrimony.  The  more 
rigid  Greeks  would  stand  upon  the  plain  fact,  which 
could  hardly  be  gainsaid,  the  unauthorized  intrusion  of 

^  The  Greeks  were  manifestly  bewildered  by  the  scholastic  mode  of  arga- 
ment,  the  endless  logical  fonnalaries  of  the  Latins  (Syropulas,  pcutim). 
They  were  utterly  unacquainted  with  the  Latin  Fathers;  could  not  distin- 
guish the  genuine  from  spurious  citations;  or  even  understand  their  lan- 
guage. —  Syropulus,  p.  218. 


Cbat-xiy.     differences  of  the  churches.  41 

the  clause  into  the  Creed.  To  the  Latins,  the  Proces- 
sion of  the  Holy  Ghost  from  the  Father  alone  (the 
Greek  doctrine)  was  an  impions  disparagement  of  the 
coequal,  coeternal  Godhead  of  the  Son ;  to  the  Greeks 
the  Procession  of  the  Holy  Ghost  from  the  Son  also, 
was  the  introduction  of  two  principles  —  it  ascribed  the 
incommunicable  paternity  of  the  Father  to  the  Son.^ 
It  was  discovered  at  length  that  neither  did  the  Latins 
intend  to  deny  the  Father  to  be  the  primary  and  sole 
fountain  of  Godhead,  nor  the  Greeks  absolutely  the 
Procession  of  the  Holy  Ghost  from  the  Son.  They 
all  acquiesced  in  the  form  "  of  the  Father  through  the 
Son;"  yet  in  the  different  sense  of  the  two  Greek 
prepositions,  "from  and  through,"  Mark  of  Ephesus 
and  the  rigid  Greeks  fought  with  a  stubborn  pertinac- 
ity as  if  their  own  salvation  and  the  salvation  of  man- 
kind were  on  the  issue.^  But  the  real  difficulty  w^as 
the  addition  to  the  Creed.  As  a  problem  of  high  spec- 
ulative theology,  the  article  might  be  couched  in  broad 
and  ambiguous  terms,  and  allowed  to  sink  into  reveren- 
tial silence.  The  other  inevitable  question  forced  itself 
upon  the  mind,  the  popular  mind  as  well  as  that  of  the 
clergy,  almost  in  every  service.  Whenever  the  Nicene 
Creed  was  read  or  chanted,  the  omission  of  the  words 
would  strike  the  Latins  with  a  painful  and  humiliating 
void  ;  it  was  an  admission  of  their  presumption  in  en- 
larging the  established  Creed  —  the  abasing  confession 
that  the  Wi^tern  Church,  the  Roman  Church,  had 
transcended  its  powers.     To  the  Greek  the  unusual 

1  The  Latin  argued,  el  d^  dfioXoyovvrei  rffieli  ol  Aarelvoi  fiiav  &px^  Kcti 
alTiiuf  Koi  wffy^  luii  pi^  rbp  Udrepa  rm  viov  lud  tov  irvevfiarog^  fijf 
woiovvrr^  &ifo  &pxof,  Tii^  ^  XP^  "^^  itiraKei^tv  irpoir&iKffv,  —  Ducas, 
s.  xxxi. 

s  Syropulos,  p.  237. 


42  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XHL 

words  jarred  with  equal  dissonance  on  the  ear;  the 
compulsoiy  repetition  was  a  mark  of  galling  subjection, 
of  the  cowardly  abandonment  of  the  rightfiil  indepen- 
dence of  his  Church,  as  well  as  of  truth  and  ortho- 
doxy. On  this  point  the  Latins  suffered  the  humil- 
iation of  having  produced  a  copy  of  the  Acts  of  the 
Second  Council  of  Nicea,  which  included  the  contested 
words.  It  was  a  forgery  so  flagrant  that  they  were 
obliged  to  submit  to  its  rejection  without  protest.^  The 
Greeks  drew  the  natural  conclusion  that  they  would 
not  scruple  to  corrupt  their  own  documents.^  The 
Latins  were  more  fortunate  or  more  skilful  in  some 
citations  from  St.  Basil  and  other  writers  of  authority. 
Their  authenticity  could  not  be  disproved  without 
awaiting  the  arrival  of  other  copies  from  Constantino- 
ple. Throughout,  the  dispute  rested  on  the  Greek 
Fathers ;  the  Greeks  somewhat  contemptuously  avowed 
their  ignorance  of  the  Latin  saints. 

The  Latins  had  the  strength  of  strenuous  union,  the 
Greeks  were  weakened  by  discord.  Already  at  Fer- 
rara  the  more  rigid  Greeks  had  seen  the  accomplished 
Bessarion  of  Nicea  desert  the  faithful  Mark  of  Ephesus. 
On  the  question  of  Purgatory  they  had  differed  more 
widely  than  the  conflicting  Churches.  Their  quarrel 
now  degenerated  into  coarse  and  personal  altercation. 
"  Why  do  I  dispute  any  longer "  (Bessarion  so  far 
forgot  himself)  "with  a  man  possessed  by  an  evil 
spirit  ?  "  ^  Mark,  in  return,  denounced  Bessarion  as  a 
bastard  and  an  apostate. 

^  The  interpolation  was  traced  up  to  the  time  of  Charlemagne,  no  higher. 

bri  hoT^sinirfaav  koI  T(1  (iriTu  tuv  dvTUuJv  cryiuw.  —  Syrop.  p.  171. 
•  Syropulus,  p.  257. 


Chap.  XIY.  6R££KS  IN  B15C0BSIQK.  43 

The  Pope  and  the  Emperor^  were  resolutely  deter- 
mined upon  the  union.  Every  art,  all  influence  and 
authority,  were  put  forth  to  compel  the  more  refractory 
to  ohedience.  If  the  Cardinalate  was  not  yet  bestowed 
or  promised  to  the  more  obsequious  Prelates,  Bessarion 
of  Nicea  and  Isidore  of  Russia,  the  appointments  and 
allowances  to  the  more  pliant  were  furnished  with 
punctuality  and  profusion,  those  of  the  contumacious 
parsimoniously  if  it  all.  The  arrears  of  the  disfavored 
again  extended  to  many  months ;  they  were  again 
threatened  with  starvation.  Christopher,  the  Pope's 
former  Legate  at  Constantinople,  proposed  altogether 
to  withdraw  the  allowance  from  Mark  of  Ephesus,  the 
Judas  who  ate  the  Pope's  bread  and  conspired  against 
him.^  Rumors  were  spread  that  Mark  was  mad.  It 
was  skilfully  suggested,  it  was  plain  to  the  simplest 
understanding,  that  the  liberties  of  the  Greeks,  perhaps 
their  lives,  in  a  foreign  land,  were  not  their  own  ;  their 
return  depended  on  the  mercy  or  the  generosity  of  their 
antagonists.  They  might  be  kept  an  indefinite  time, 
prisoners,  despised,  starving  prisoners.  Their  own  poor 
resources  had  long  been  utterly  exhausted;  the  Em- 
peror, even  the  Patriarch,  could  make  or  enforce  no 
terms  for  refractory  subjects,  who  defied  alike  temporal 
and  spiritual  authority. 

The  Greeks  met  again  and  again  in  their  private 
synod.      The  debates  were   long,  obstinate,  q^^i^  ib 
furious;   the    holy   councillors   were   almost ^"**"'^®°' 
committed  in  personal  violence  ;  the  Emperor  mingled 

1  The  Emperor  burst  oat  into  a  furious  invective  against  the  Bishop  of 
Heraclea,  who  had  presumed  to  refute  the  Imperial  arguments :  Ovtu  Koi 
vOv  avaujJcwTuv  Xeyetc  &nep  aol  oix  i^eari.  Utori  imtt^tx^ii  litonK 
brdptmoi^  Kcu  airaidevrog  Kcd  Puvavaoc  icaX  x^''Vi'  —  P*  ^^* 

3  Sjropulus,  p.  251. 


44  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIU. 

in  the  fiay,  overawing  some  to  adulatory  concessions, 
but  not  all.^  The  question  of  the  Procession  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  was  proj)osed  for  their  accordance  in  the 
mildest  and  most  disguised  form ;  that  of  the  addition 
to  the  Creed  altogether  eluded.  There  were  twenty 
who  declared  themselves  in  favor  of  the  union,  twelve 
Junes.  not  content.  But  in  subsequent  meetings 
(every  kind  of  influence  was  used,  menaces,  promises 
were  lavished  to  obtain  suffrages)  the  majority  was 
gradually  swelled  by  the  admission  of  certain  "  Gram- 
marians "  to  vote :  the  minority  dwindled  away  by  the 
secession  of  some  Bishops  through  fear  or  favor,  the 
disfranchisement  of  three  of  the  cross-bearers  and  some 
obstinate  monks,  as  not  in  holy  orders.  The  Emperor 
determined  tliat  suffrages  belonged  only  to  Bishops  and 
Archimandrites.^  At  length  Mark  of  Ephesus  stood 
alone,  or  with  one  partisan,  Sophronius  of  Anchialus ; 
even  Sophronius  seems  to  have  dropped  away ;  but  in 
vain  the  Patriarch  wasted  all  his  eloquence  on  the  ada- 
mantine Ephesian. 

Yet  the  Emperor  would  not  surrender  the  liberties 
of  his  Church  without  distinct  stipulations  as  to  the 
reward  of  his  compliance.^  His  sole  motive  for  sub- 
mission had  been  the  security  of  his  empire,  of  Con- 
stantinople now  almost  his  whole  empire.*  A  treaty, 
Jons  2.  negotiated  by  Isidore  of  Russia,  was  duly 
ratified  and  signed,  with  these  articles.     I.  The  Pope 

1  The  Bishops  of  Mitylene  and  Lacedaemon  almost  fell  tooth  and  nail  on 
Hark  of  Ephesus:  Kat  fiovov  oi>K  bdovai  koX  ;tepaiv  upftuv  diaanapd^ai 
ainiiv.  —  P.  236. 

2  'Hyovfievoi. 

*  Gibbon  has  noted  with  his  asual  sarcasm  the  protest  of  the  Emperor*fl 
dogy  who  howled  fiercely  and  lamentably  throughout  his  master's  speech. 
—  Syropulus,  266. 

^  Syropulus,  261. 


Chap.  XIV.  TERMS  OF  TREATY.  45 

bound  himself  to  supply  ample  means,  ships  and  pro- 
visions, for  the  return  of  the  Emperor  and  the  Greeks. 
II.  The  Pope  would  furnish  every  year  two  galleys 
and  three  hundred  men-at-arms  for  the  defence  of  Con- 
stantinople. III.  The  ships  which  conveyed  the  pil- 
grims to  the  Holy  Land  were  to  touch  at  Constantinople. 
IV.  In  the  Emperor's  need  the  Pope  should  furnish 
twenty  galleys  for  six  months  or  ten  for  a  year.  V. 
If  the  Emperor  should  require  land  forces,  the  Pope 
would  use  all  his  authority  with  the  Princes  of  the 
West  to  supply  them. 

The  temporal  treaty  was  signed.  With  weary  haste 
they  proceeded  to  perfect,  to  ratify,  and  to  publish  the 
spiritual  treaty,  which  pretended  to  unite  the  East  and 
West  in  holy  communion.  The  Patriarch,  who  had 
long  been  suffering  from  age  and  sickness,  just  lived 
to  see  and  to  sign  this  first  article  of  his  great  work. 
He  died  suddenly  almost  in  the  act  of  urg- June9. 
ing  his  followers  to  submission.  He  had  already  sent 
off  some  of  his  effects  to  Venice,  and  hoped  to  return 
(happily  he  did  not  return)  to  Constantinople.  His 
obsequies  were  celebrated  with  great  pomp ;  and  in 
the  Baptistery  of  Florence  the  stranger  wonders  to 
find  the  tomb  of  a  Patriarch  of  Constantinople. 

The  strife  seemed  to  be  worn  out  with  this  more 
momentous  question.  The  discomfited  and  discordant 
Greeks  had  no  longer  courage  or  will  to  contest  fur- 
ther.^ The  three  other  points  had  already  been  par- 
tially discussed ;  even  that  perilous  one,  the  supremacy 

1  There  is  a  remarkable  passage,  in  which  Bessarion  of  Nicea  took  the 
opportunity,  to  the  perplexity  and  a.«toni8hnient  of  the  Greeks,  of  asserting 
their  absolute  unity  with  the  Latins  as  to  the  sole  power  of  the  hierarchy 
to  consecrate  the  Eucharist  and  to  ordain  the  clergy.  —  SyropuluB,  p.  295; 
but  compare  p.  278. 


46  LATIN  CHKISTIANITY.  Book  XIH. 

of  the  Pope,  was  passed,  reserving  only  in  vague  and 
doubtful  terms  the  rights  of  the  Eastern  Patriarchate. 
Death  had  silenced  the  remonstrant  voice  of  the  Patri- 
arch. The  final  edict  was  drawn  by  common  consent. 
One  only  difficulty  remained  which  threatened  seri- 
ously to  disturb  the  peace.  In  whose  names,  on  whose 
authority,  should  it  address  the  world  as  a  law  of 
Christendom,  that  of  the  Emperor  the  heir  of  Jus- 
tinian, or  the  Pope  the  successor  of  St.  Peter  ?  The 
Emperor  yielded  to  a  compromise,  which  seemed  to 
maintain  his  dignity.  It  spoke  in  the  name  of  the 
Pope  Eugenius  IV.  with  the  consent  of  his  dear  son 
John  PalaBologus,  Emperor  of  the  Romans,  and  the  rep- 
resentatives of  his  venerable  brethren  the  Patriarchs. 
Earth  and  heaven  were  summoned  to  rejoice  that  the 
wall  had  fallen  which  had  divided  the  Churches  of  the 
East  and  West.  The  Greeks  and  Latins  are  now  one 
people.  I.  The  Holy  Ghost  proceeds  from  the  Father 
and  the  Son,  but  as  from  one  principle,  by  one  opera- 
tion. The  words  "  from  the  Son  "  have  been  lawfully 
and  with  good  reason  inserted  in  the  Creed.  II.  In 
the  use  of  leavened  or  unleavened  bread,  each  Church 
might  maintain  its  usage.  III.  The  souls  of  those 
who  die  in  less  than  mortal  sin  are  purified  in  purga- 
tory, by  what  fire  was  not  determined,  but  their  suf- 
ferings may  be  shortened  or  alleviated  by  the  prayers 
and  alms  of  the  faithful.  V.  The  Roman  Pontiff^,  as 
successor  of  St.  Peter,  has  a  primacy  and  government 
over  the  whole  Catholic  Church,  but  according  to  the 
Canons  of  the  Church.^  The  rights  and  privileges 
of  the   other  four   great   Patriarchs,    Constantinople, 

1  About  this  there  was  a  dispute,  on  which  the  Emperor  threatened  to 
break  off  the  treatj.  The  Pope  proposed  "  according  to  Scripture  and  the 
writings  of  the  Saints."  ~  P.  282. 


Chap.  XIV.     ACTS  07  THE  COUNCIL  PUBLISHED.  47 

Alexandria,  Antioch,  Jerusalem,  are  inviolate  and  in- 
violable. 

The  Acts  of  the  Council  of  Florence  boast  the  sig- 
natures, on  the  part  of  the  Latins,  of  the  Pope,  eight 
Cardinals,  two  Latin  Patriarchs,  of  Jerusalem  and 
Grado,  two  Bishops  Ambassadors  of  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  eight  Archbishops,  forty-seven  Bishops, 
four  Heads  of  Orders,  forty-one  Abbots,  and  the  Arch- 
deacon of  Troyes.  Among  the  Greeks  were  the  Em- 
peror, the  Vicars  of  the  Patriarchs  of  Alexandria,  An- 
tioch, Jerusalem,  nineteen  Archbishops  and  Bishops  by 
themselves  or  by  their  proctors,  the  great  Dignitaries 
of  the  Church  of  Constantinople,  the  Head  of  the  Im- 
perial Monastery,  and  four  Abbots.  Of  these  some 
were  compelled  to  set  their  hands,  the  Ecclesiast  fairly 
owns,  speaking  no  doubt  of  himself  among  otliers,  from 
fear.  Such  were  the  representatives  of  the  Christian 
world.  The  Despot  Demetrius  still  sternly  refused : 
he  was  to  reap  his  reward  in  popularity,  hereafter  to 
be  dangerous  to  his  brother's  throne.  He  retired  to 
Venice  in  sullen  dignity. 

The  Act  was  published  with  imposing  solemnity  in 
the  Cathedral  of  Florence.  Nothing  was  wanting  to 
the  splendor  of  the  ceremony,  to  the  glory  of  the  Pope. 
After  Te  Deum  chanted  in  Greek,  Mass  celebrated  in 
Latin,  the  Creed  was  read  with  the  "  Filioque."  Sy- 
ropulus  would  persuade  himself  and  the  world  that  the 
Greeks  did  not  rightly  catch  the  indistinct  and  inhar- 
monious sounds.  Then  the  Cardinal  Julian  Cassarini 
ascended  the  pulpit  and  read  the  Edict  in  Latin,  the 
Cardinal  Bessarion  in  Greek.  They  desQended  and 
embraced,  as  symbolizing  the  indissoluble  unity  of  the 
Church.     The  Edict  (it  was  unusual)  ended  with  no 


48  LATIN  CHRISTUNITY.  Book  XIIL 

anathema.  Bessarion  and  Isidore,  with  the  zeal  of 
renegades,  had  urged  the  condemnation  of  their  con- 
tumacious brethren:  they  were  wisely  overruled.  Even 
Mark  of  Ephesus*,  whom  the  Pope  would  have  visited 
for  his  stubborn  pride  (the  brave  old  man  adhered  to 
his  convictions  in  the  face  of  the  Pope  and  his  Car- 
dinals), was  protected  by  the  Emperor.  The  service 
in  the  Cathedral  of  Florence  was  in'  the  Latin  form, 
the  Pope  was  on  his  throne,  with  his  Cardinals,  in  all 
his  superiority.  Greek  vanity  had  expected  to  impress 
the  Latins  by  the  more  solemn  majesty  of  their  rites.^ 
They  proposed  the  next  day  a  high  Greek  function, 
witli  the  Pope  present.  The  Pope  coldly  answered, 
that  before  they  could  be  permitted  in  public,  the  rites 
must  be  rehearsed  in  private,  in  order  that  it  might 
be  seen  whether  there  was  anything  presumptuously 
discordant  with  the  Roman  usage.  The  Greeks  de- 
clined this  humiliating  mode  of  correcting  the  errors 
and  innovations  of  the  Roman  ritual.^ 

Five  copies  of  these  Acts  were  made,  and  duly 
signed,  that  authentic  proof  of  this  union  might  never 
be  wanting  to  perpetuate  its  memory  to  the  latest  time. 

Thus  closed  the  first,  the  great.  Session  of  the  Coun- 
cil of  Florence.  The  Emperor  with  the  Greek  Clergy 
returned  to  Venice,  and,  after  a  long  and  &tiguing 
navigation,  to  Constantinople^  there  to  be  received, 
not  as  the  Saviour  of  the  empire  from  the  sword  of  the 

1  The  only  superiority  which  the  Latins  seemed  obliged  to  own,  wm  the 
splendor  of  the  Greek  dresses  of  silk.  "  A  la  maniera  degli  abiti  Greci, 
pareva  assai  piii  grave,  e  piii  degna  chc  qnella  de'  Prelati  Latini."  — V«- 
pasiano,  Vit.  Eogeil.  IV.    Muratori,  xxv.  p.  261. 

*  'Hfielg  k^appov/Jtev  diop^uaai  k6X?\m  a^uXfiara  tuv  Aanvuv,  —  Syropu- 
lus,  p.  299. 

*  He  embarked  Oct.  19;  arrived  in  Constantinople  Feb.  1. 


Chap,  XIV.         KECEPTION  OF  THE  EMPEROR.  49 

Turks,  not  as  the  wise  and  pious  reconciler  of  religious 
dissension  and  the  peace-maker  of  the  Church,  but  as 
a  traitor  to  his  own  imperial  dignity,  as  a  renegade, 
and  an  apostate.  Already  in  Venice  signs  of  rebellion 
had  appeared.  The  Bishop  of  Heraclea  and  the  Eo- 
clesiast,  compelled  to  officiate  in  St.  Mark's,  revenged 
themselves  by  chanting  the  Creed  without  the  obnox- 
ious interpolation,  and  by  refiising  to  pray  for  the 
Pope.^  During  the  voyage  the  Emperor  encountered 
bitter  complaints  from  the  Greeks  of  the  tyranny  and 
exultation  of  the  Latin  Clergy.  In  Constantinople  it 
was  eagerly  inquired  whether  they  had  returned  victo- 
rious. They  confessed  with  humble  and  bitter  self- 
reproach  that  they  had  sold  the  &ith ;  that  they  had 
yielAed  in* base  fear  to  the  Franks.^  Had  they  been 
scourged,  imprisoned,  put  to  the  torture?  they  could 
not  plead  this  excuse.  It  was  openly  said  that.  Judas- 
like, they  had  received  money  and  sold  the  Lord.  The 
Archbishop  of  Heraclea  declared  that  he  had  been 
compelled  to  the  base  apostasy,  and  confessed  his  bitter 
remorse  of  conscience ;  he  had  rather  his  right  arm  had 
been  cut  off  than  that  he  had  subscribed  the  union. 
At  once  the  Monks  and  the  women  broke  out  into 
unrestrained  fanaticism  against  the  impious  Azymites, 
who  had  treated  the  difference  of  leavened  or  unleav- 
ened bread  as  trivial  and  insignificant.  The  obsequi- 
ous Bishop  of  Cyzicum,  promoted  to  the  Patriarchate, 
could  not  command  the  attendance  of  his  own  digni- 
taries without  the  mandate,  without  threats  of  severe 
punishment  from  the  Emperor.^  He  stood  even  then, 
in  the  midst  of  his  sullen  retinue,  in  Santa  Sophia,  with 

1  Sjropnlus,  p.  315.  *  Syropalus. 

9  Ducas,  c.  xxzi. 
voii.  ym.  4 


60  LATIN  CHRISTIANmr.  Book  XIIL 

hardly  a  single  worshipper.^  The  churches  where  the 
clergy  officiated  who  had  favored  the  union,  not  merely 
in  the  metropolis  but  in  the  villages  around,  were  de- 
serted by  their  flocks.^  The  D^pot  Demetrius  raised 
the  standard  of  Greek  orthodoxy  in  direct  rebellion 
against  his  brother.  His  partisans  excited  the  people 
everywhere,  if  to  less  violent,  to  as  stubborn  rebellion. 
Bold  had  been  the  Priest  who  had  dared  to  interpolate 
the  Creed  with  the  hated  clause.  Even  in  Russia,  the 
Cardinal  Isidore  (the  wiser  Bessarion  returned  to  peace 
and  honor  in  the  West)  was  met  with  the  same  con- 
temptuous, inflexible  resistance. 

A  few  short  years  had  entirely  obliterated  all  signs 
of  the  union  in  the  East,  excepting  the  more  imbit- 
tered  feeling  of  estrangement  and  hatred  which  raiScled 
in  the  very  depths  of  their  hearts  towards  the  Latin 
Church  ;  and  these  feelings  were  only  quenched  in 
their  blood.  For,  as  they  thus  indignantly  repudiated 
all  connection  with  Rome,  all  subjection  to  Latin 
Christianity,  the  Pope  and  the  Princes  of  Western 
Christendom  thought  no  more  of  their  treaty  of  succor 
and  support  against  the  Turks. 

Only  fifteen  years  after  the  return  of  the  Emperor 
John  Palaeologus  to  the  East,  Constantinople  was  a 
Mohammedan  city.  St.  Sophia,  which  disdained  to  be 
polluted  by  the  "  Filioque  "  in  the  Creed,  resounded, 
unrebuked,  with  the  Imauin's  chant,  "  There  is  but 
one  God,  and  Mohammed  is  his  Prophet." 

The  sole  lasting  consequence  of  the  Council  of  Flor- 
ence, even  in  the  West,  was  the  fame  acquired  by  Pope 

1  He  demanded  the  reason  of  this  from  some  of  his  refractory  flock 
AiotI  IfKohifn^ifffac  Koi  aii  Tut  Trarptapxv  '^^  i^nvioac.  —  P*  337. 
^  Phranza,  p.  194.    Laonicus  Chalcondjlas.    Ducas,  c.  zxxi. 


CbAF.XIV.  6L0BT  OF  EUGENIUS*  51 

Eugenius,  which  he  wanted  neither  the  art  nor  the 
industry  to  propagate  in  the  most  magnificent  terms. 
He,  of  all  the  successors  of  St.  Peter,  had  beheld  the 
Byzantine  Emperor  at  his  feet,  had  condescended  to 
dictate  terms  of  union  to  the  Greeks,  who  had  ac- 
knowledged the  superior  orthodoxy,  the  primacy  of 
Rome.  The  splendid  illusion  was  kept  up  by  the  ap- 
pe»:ance  of  ecclesiastical  ambassadors  —  how  commis- 
sioned, invested  with  what  authority,  none  knew,  none 
now  know  —  from  the  more  remote  and  barbarous 
churches  of  the  East,  from  the  uttermost  parts  of 
the  Christian  world.  The  Iberians,  Armenians,  the 
Maronites  and  Jacobites  of  Syria,  the  Chaldean  Nes- 
torians,  the  Ethiopians,  successively  rendered  the  hom- 
age of  their  allegiance  to  the  one  Supreme  Head  of 
Oiristendom. 


62  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  BooKXni. 


CHAPTER    XV. 

CONTINUATION  OF  COUNCIL  OF  BASLE.    POPE  FELIX. 

The  Council  of  Basle,  frustrated  in  its  endeavors  to 
secure  the  advantage  to  itself  of  the  treaty  with  the 
Eastern  Emperor,  looked  on  the  negotiations  at  Fer- 
rara  and  Florence  with  contemptuous  disregard.  Its 
hostility  might  seem  imbittered  by  the  success  of  the 
Pope  in  securing  the  recognition  of  the  Emperor  and 
the  Greek  Clergy.  It  was  some  months  before  the 
time  when  Eugenius  triumphantly  announced  his  union 
with  the  Byzantine  Church,  that  the  Council  deter- 
mined to  proceed  to  the  deposition  of  the  Pope.  They 
would  before  long  advance  to  the  more  fatal  and  irrev- 
ocable step  —  the  election  of  his  successor. 

The  Council  might  seem,  in  its  unshaken  self-confi- 
dence, to  despise  the  decline  in  its  own  importance, 
from  the  secession  of  so  many  of  its  more  distinguished 
members,  still  more  from  the  inevitable  consequences 
of  having  raised  vast  expectations  which  it  seemed 
utterly  unable  to  fulfil.  It  afiected  an  equable  supe- 
riority to  the  defection  of  the  great  temporal  powers, 
the  haughty  neutrality  of  Germany,  and  the  rival 
synod  of  France  at  Bourges.  Even  the  lesser  tem- 
poral princes,  who  had  hitherto  supported  the  Council, 
the  Spanish  Kings,  the  Duke  of  Milan,  seemed  to 
shrink  fix)m  the  extreme  and  irrepealable  act  —  the 


Chap.  XV.  ARCHBISHOP  OF  ARLES.  63 

deposition  of  the  Pope.  They  began  to  urge  more 
tardy,  if  not  more  temperate,  counsels.  The  debates 
in  the  Council  became  stormy  and  tumultuous;  the 
few  great  prelates  encountered  in  bitter  altercation. 
The  Archbishop  of  Palermo,  the  representative  of  the 
King  of  Arragon,  urged  delay  ;  he  was  supported  by 
the  Archbishop  of  Milan,  and  by  others  of  rank  and 
name.  He  endeavored  to  counteract  the  growing  dem- 
ocratic tendencies  of  the  Council,  by  asserting  the  sole 
and  exclusive  right  of  the  Bishops  to  suffrage.  This 
preliminary  debate  was  long  and  obstinate.^  At  its 
close,  after  the  speech  of  the  Cardinal  of  Aries,  a 
violent  collision  took  place.  The  old  Archbishop  of 
Aquileia  arose,  and  rashly  said,  ^^  You  do  not  know  us 
Grermans  :  if  you  go  on  thus,  you  will  hardly  come  off 
without  broken  heads."  The  Archbishop  of  Palermo, 
Louis  the  Papal  Prothonotary,  and  others,  rose,  and 
with  one  voice,  exclaimed  that  the  liberty  of  the  Coun- 
cil was  threatened.  He  called  on  the  Count  of  Thier- 
stein,  the  Emperor's  representative,  who  still  had  his 
seat  in  the  Council,  for  his  protection.  The  Count 
solemnly  declared  that  the  peace  should  be  maintained. 
He  was  supported  by  the  magistrates  and  citizens  of 
Basle,  who  were  proud  that  their  town  was  the  seat  of 
the  Council,  and  declared  that  it  should  not  be  dis- 
turbed. Still,  as  the  President  went  on  to  read  the 
decree,  he  was  interrupted  by  shouts   and   unseemly 

^  See  the  whole  in  iEneas  Sylvias.  Comment,  lib.  i.  Opera,  p.  23.  The 
speech  of  the  Cardinal  of  Aries  is  of  many  folio  pages.  He  rashly  said 
that  the  Archbishop  of  Milan,  though  a  prelate  of  the  greatest  weight  and 
dignity,  was  no  great  orator.  "  As  good  an  orator  as  you  a  president," 
burst  in  the  indignant  Lombard.  The  Cardinal  of  Aries  bore  the  interrup- 
tioQ  with  patience,  and  went  calmly  on  (p.  26).  He  soothed  the  Bishops 
with  great  skill,  who  were  jealous  of  the  suffrages  of  the  inferior  clei^. 
He  compared  the  Council  to  the  Spartans  at  Thermopyle. 


54  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIH 

noises.  **  A  miracle,"  exclaimed  the  Archbishop  of 
Lyons  ;  "  the  dumb  speak,  Bishops  who  never  uttered 
a  word  before  are  now  become  loquacious."  The  Car- 
dinal Archbishop  of  Aries,  the  President,  stood  quite 
alone  of  his  Order,  aliAost  alone  among  the  Prelates  of 
the  highest  rank,  in  his  inflexible  fidelity  to  the  Council. 
His  dignity,  his  unalterable  temper,  his  promptitude 
and  eloquence,  which  excited  the  most  unbounded  ad- 
miration, his  consummate  ability,  by  which,  though  a 
Frenchman,  he  out-manoeuvred  the  subtle  Italians,  still 
maintained  his  ;3way.  His  chief  supporters,  though  of 
inferior  rank,  were  men  of  fame  for  learning.  He 
always  happily  chose  his  time  :  on  the  second  meet- 
ing, he  carried  his  point  against  the  Archbishop  of 
Palermo  and  all  the  Spanish  and  Milanese  Prelates, 
who  withdrew  angry  but  baffled.  '*  Twice,"  said  the 
Archbishop  in  Italian,  meaning,  twice  we  have  been 
beaten,  or  twice  overreached. 

As  the  session  drew  on  which  was  to  determine  the 
question  of  deposition,  the  Bishops  —  some  from  ti- 
midity, some  from  dislike  of  the  proceeding  —  shrunk 
away.  Of  the  Spanish  Prelates  there  was  not  one ; 
from  Italy  one  Bishop  and  one  Abbot,  of  mitred  Prel- 
ates from  the  other  two  kingdoms  (England  took  no 
part  in  the  Coimcil)  only  twenty ;  their  place  was 
filled  by  clergy  inferior  in  rank,  but,  according  to 
iBneas  Sylvius,  much  superior  in  learning.  The  Car- 
dinal of  Aries  was  embarrassed,  but  not  disheartened, 
by  this  defection.  The  relics  of  many  famous  Saints 
were  collected,  borne  by  the  Priests  of  his  party  through 
the  city,  and  actually  introduced  into  the  hall  of  coun- 
cil in  the  place  of  the  absent  Bishops.^     At  the  solemn 

1  '^Plurimasque  Baactomm  reliquks  tot&  nrbe  perquiri  jnasit,  «c  per  m- 


Chap.  XV.        DEPOSITION  OF  POPE  EUGENIUS.  65 

appeal  to  the  Saints  in  bliss,  a  transport  of  profound 
devotion  seized  the  assembly  ;  they  all  burst  ^^^  ^^ 
into  tears.  The  Baron,  Conrad  of  Winsperg,  ^•"'  ^*^' 
the  Imperial  Commissioner,  wept  the  loudest,  and  de- 
clared that  he  derived  ineffable  consolation  in  the  ex- 
ecution of  his  arduous  duty.  Though  so  few  Bishops 
were  there,  never  were  the  seats  so  full.  Proctors  of 
Bishops,  Archdeacons,  Provosts,  Priors,  Presbyters, 
sat  to  the  number  of  four  hundred  or  more.  Nor  did 
the  Council  ever  proceed  with  such  calm  and  dignified 
decency.  There  was  no  word  of  strife  or  altercation, 
only  mutual  exhortation  to  defend  the  freedom  of  the 
Church.1 

The  edict  passed  almost  by  acclamation.  This  act 
for  the  deposition  of  Eugenius  condemned  the  Pope, 
who  was  now  boasting  the  success  of  his  inappreciable 
labors  for  the  union  of  the  whole  Church,  as  a  notori- 
ous disturber  of  the  peace  and  unity  of  the  Church,  as 
guilty  of  simony  and  perjury,  as  an  incorrigible  schis- 
matic, an  obstinate  heretic,  a  dilapidator  of  the  rights 
and  possessions  of  the  Church.^  All  Christians  were 
absolved  from  their  oaths  and  obligations  of  fealty,  and 
warned  that  they  must  neither  render  obedience  nor 
counsel,  nor  receive  favor  from  the  deprived  Gabriel 
Condolmieri.  All  his  acts,  censures,  inhibitions,  consti- 
tutions, were  declared  void  and  of  none  effect.  The 
decree  of  course  abrogated  all  the  boasted  acts  of  the 

cerdotum  manos  in  sessione  portatas,  absentium  EpiBcoporum  locum  te- 
nere."  -~  ifineas  Sylvius,  lib.  ii.  p.  43. 

1  ^*  Qnos  inter  nullum  unquam  probmm,  nulla  rixa«  nulla  unqnam  con- 
tentio  fuit :  sed  alter  alteram  in  professione  fidei  hortabatur,  unanimisque 
omnium  ease  consensus  ad  defendendam  Ecclesiam  videbatur."  —  Ibid. 

*  The  decne  is  dated  Maj  26.  —  Labbe.  According  to  the  Continuator 
of  Fleuiy  (see  Patrici.  Art.  Concil.  Basil.)}  June  25;  the  very  day  on 
which  was  announced  the  union  of  the  Greek  and  Latin  churches. 


56  LATIN  CHRISTIANnT.  Book  XHL 

Council  of  Florence.  To  the  astonishment  of  the  Coun- 
cil itself,  the  ambassadors  of  the  Emperor  and  of  the 
King  of  France,  the  Bishop  of  Lubeck  and  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Tours,  made  almost  an  apology  for  their  ab- 
sence in  their  masters'  name,  approved  the  act  of  the 
Council  and  declared  Pope  Eugenius  IV.  an  enemy 
to  the  truth.^ 

It  was  thought  but  decent  to  interpose  some  delay 
between  the  act  for  the  deposition  of  Eugenius  and  the 
election  of  his  successor.  It  was  determined  to  wait 
two  months.  During  those  two  months  the  plague, 
which  had  raged  in  the  Pope's  Council  at  Ferrara,  with 
impartial  severity  broke  out  at  Basle.  The  mortaUty, 
not  in  Basle  alone,  but  in  many  cities  of  Southern  Ger- 
many, was  terrible.^  In  Basle  the  ordinary  cemeteries 
were  insufficient;  huge  pits  were  dug  to  heap  in  the 
dead.  Many  of  the  Fathers  died,  protesting  in  their 
death,  with  their  last  breath,  and  with  the  Holy  Eucha- 
rist on  their  lips,  their  fearless  adhesion  to  the  Council, 
and  praying  for  the  conversion  of  those  who  still  ac- 
knowledged Grabriel  fpr  the  Pope.*  The  aged  Patri- 
arch of  Aquileia  rejoiced  that  he  should  bear  into  the 
other  world  the  tidings  of  the  deposition  of  Eugenius. 
iBneas  Sylvius  was  among  the  rare  examples  of  recov- 
ery from  the  &tal  malady.  But  the  Fathers  stood 
nobly  to  their  post ;  they  would  not  risk  the  breaking- 
up  of  the  Council,  even  by  the  temporary  abandon- 
ment of  the  city.  The  Cardinal  of  Aries  set  the  ex- 
ample ;  his  secretary,  his  chamberlain,  died  in  his  house. 

1  Session  XXXIV.  apud  Labbe,  sab  ann.  1439. 

s  The  Bishop  of  Labeck  died  between  Buda  and  Vienna;  the  almoner 
of  the  King  of  Arragon  in  Switzerland;  the  Bishop  of  Evreux  in  Straa- 
burg;  a  great  Abbot  in  Spires. 

*  iEneas  Sylviiis,  lib.  ii.  p.  47. 


Chap.  XV.  THE  ELECTORAL  COLLEGE.  57 

The  pressing  entreaties,  prayers,  remonstrances  of  his 
friends,  who  urged  that  on  his  safety  depended  the 
whole  influence  of  the  Council,  were  rejected  with 
tranquil  determination.  The  malediction  fulminated 
against  the  Council  hy  Eugenius  at  Florence  disturbed 
not  their  equanimity.  Even  at  this  hour  they  quailed 
not.  They  were  described  as  a  horde  of  robbers  ;  "  at 
Basle  all  the  devils  in  the  world  had  assembled  to  con- 
summate  the  work  of  iniquity,  and  to  set  up  the  abom- 
ination  of  desolation  in  the  Church  of  God."  All 
Cardinals,  Prelates,  were  excommunicated,  deposed, 
menaced  with  the  fate  of  Korah,  Dathan,  and  Abiram. 
All  their  decrees  were  annulled,  the  brand  of  heresy 
affixed  on  all  their  proceedings.  Against  this  furious 
invective  the  Fathers  at  Basle  published  an  apology, 
not  without  moderation. 

The  plague  had  mitigated  its  ravages;  the  two 
months  had  folly  expired ;  the  Council  proceeded  to 
the  election  of  a  new  Pope.  The  Cardinal  of  Aries 
was  alone  entitled  by  his  rank  to  be  an  Elector  ;  -in  his 
name  there  was  unanimous  assent.  It  was  ^  proposed 
that  three  persons  should  nominate  thirty-two,  who 
with  the  Cardinal  should  form  the  Electoral  College. 
The  triumvirate  were  men  whose  humble  rank  is  the 
best  testimony  to  their  high  estimation.  John,  called 
the  Greek,  the  Abbot  of  an  obscure  Cistercian  convent 
in  Scotland ;  John  of  Segovia,  Archdeacon  of  Villa 
Viciosa,  Thomas  de  Corcelles,  Canon  of  Amiens. 
Lest  the  most  important  Nation,  the  Germans,  should 
take  offence  at  their  exclusion,  they  were  empowered  to 
choose  a  fourth :  they  named  Christian,  Provost  of  St. 
Peter's  of  Brun  in  the  diocese  of  Olmutz,  a  German 
by  birth. 


68  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XHI. 

These  theological  triumvirs  with  their  colleague 
named  twelve  Bishops,  seven  Abbots,  five  distin* 
gaished  divines,  nine  Doctors  of  Canon  or  Civil  Law.^ 
They  were  impartially  chosen  from  all  the  four  Nations, 
Germany,  France,  Spain,  Italy.  England  alone,  un- 
represented in  the  Council,  was  of  course  unrepresented 
in  the  Conclave. 

The  Conclave  was  conducted  with  the  utmost  regu- 
87th  senion.  ^^^  ^^^  ^  studious  imitation  of  the  forms 
ock  24.  observed  by  the  College  of  Cardinals.  The 
election,  after  not  many  days,  was  without  serious  strife ; 
88th  SMtfon.  ^^  struck  Christendom  with  astonishment.  It 
Oct.  28.  ^j^g  jiQij  Q^  Prelate  whose  vigor  and  character 
might  guarantee  and  conduct  the  reformation  in  the 
Church,  on  the  expectation  of  which  rested  all  the  con- 
fidence of  the  world  in  the  Council  of  Basle ;  not  a 
theologian  of  consummate  learning,  not  a  monk  of  rigid 
austerity,  it  was  not  even  a  Churchman  of  tried  and 
commanding  abilities.  It  was  a  temporal  sovereign, 
who,  weary  of  his  crown,  had  laid  it  down,  but  was 
itot  unwilling  to  plunge  again  into  the  more  onerous 
business  of  a  Pope :  who  had  retired  not  into  the  desert, 
but  to  a  kind  of  villarconvent  on  the  beautiful  shores  of 
the  Lake  Geneva,  and  whose  life  at  best  decent  and 
calmly  devout,  if  not  easy  and  luxurious,  had  none  of 
the  imposing  rigor  of  the  old  founders  of  monastic 
orders.  Amadeus  of  Savoy  was  summoned  from  his 
retreat  at  Thonon  to  ascend  the  Papal  throne.^ 

1  The  numben  in  ^neas  SyWius  are  perplexing.  The  twelve  Bishopii, 
including  the  Cardinal,  were  to  represent  the  twelve  Apostles.  But  he 
names  many  more.  The  account  in  the  Acts  of  Patricius  varies  in  many 
but  not  ven*  important  particulars. 

^  .£neas  Sylvius  (but  we  must  begin  to  hear  ^neas  with  more  mistrust) 
attributes  the  elevation  of  Amadeus  to  a  deep-laid  plot    "  Amadeus  qni  ae 


Chap.  XV.  AMADEUS  OF  SAVOY.  59 

Objections  were  raised  that  Amadeus  of  Savoy  was 
not  in  holy  orders  ;  that  he  had  been  married  and  had 
children.  These  difficulties  were  overruled,  and  yielded 
easily  to  the  magnificent  eulogies  passed  on  the  piety, 
charity,  holiness  of  the  hermit  of  Ripaflle.  Some  of 
the  secret  motives  for  this  singular  choice  are  clear 
enough.  The  Pope  of  Basle  must  be  a  Pope,  at  least 
for  a  time,  without  Papal  revenues.  Italy,  all  the  pat- 
rimony of  St,  Peter  which  acknowledged  the  Pope, 
was  in  the  possession  of  Eugenius,  and  showed  no 
inclination  to  revolt  to  the  Council.  If  any  of  the 
Transalpine  sovereigns  would  recognize  the  Antipope, 
none  was  likely  to  engage  in  a  crusade  to  place  him  on 
the  throne  in  the  Vatican.  The  only  means  of  sup* 
porting  his  dignity  would  be  the  taxation  of  the  Clergy, 
which  his  poor  partisans  could  ill  bear;  the  more 
wealthy  and  powerful  would  either  refuse,  or  resent 
Udd  pass  over  to  the  opposite  camp.  Amadeus,  at  first 
at  least,  might  maintain  his  own  court,  if  not  in  splen- 
dor, in  decency.  This,  however,  was  a  vain  hope. 
The  first  act  of  the  Council  afler  the  election  was  the 
imposition  of  a  tax  of  a  fifth  penny  on  all  ecclesiastics, 
for  the  maintenance  of  the  state  of  the  new  Pope. 
Perhaps  the  unpopularity  of  this  measure  was  alien- 
ated by  the  impossibility  of  levying  it.  It  was  an  idle 
display  of  unprofitable  generosity.     If   Christendom 

fiituraiD  P&pam  sperabat "  (p.  76).  "  Sapienti&  pneditus  dicebatur  qui 
annis  jam  octo  et  amplius  simulatam  religionem  accepisset,  ut  papatum  con- 
Bequi  posset."  He  makes  Amadeus  too  far-sighted,  ^neas  assigns  a  cu- 
rious speech  to  Cardinal  Giesarini.  **  I  was  afraid  that  they  would  have 
chosen  a  poor  and  a  good  man ;  then  there  had  been  indeed  danger.  It  is 
that  which  stirs  the  hearts  of  men  and  removes  mountains.  This  man 
hopes  to  accumulate  the  wealth  of  Pope  Martin"  —  Martin's  wealth  had 
passed  into  a  proverb  —  *'not  to  spend  his  own  money."  The  election 
Nov.  5;  confirmed,  Nov.  17. 


60  LATIN  CHBISTIANITT.  BookXIH. 

had  been  bnrdened  with  the  maintenance  of  two  Popes 
it  would  have  wakened  up  from  its  indifference,  co- 
alesced in  &vor  of  one,  or  discarded  both. 

A  deputation  of  the  most  distinguished  Churchmen 
in  Basle,  the  Cardinal  of  Aries  at  their  head  (he  was 
attended  by  the  Count  of  Thierstein,  the  Imperial  Com- 
missioner), proceeded  to  the  royal  hermitage,  there  to 
announce  to  Amadeus  his  elevation  to  the  Papal  See. 
Amadeus  assumed,  if  he  did  not  feel,  great  reluctance. 
If  his  retirement  and  seclusion  had  not  been  mere 
weariness  of  worldly  affidrs,  and  if  he  was  not  by  this 
time  as  weary  of  his  seclusion  as  he  had  been  of  the 
world,  when  Amadeus  looked  down  on  the  shadow  of 
his  peaceful  retreat,  reflected  in  the  blue  and  unbroken 
waters  of  the  lake  below,  he  might  have  serious  mis- 
givings in  assuming  the  busy,  invidious,  and,  at  least 
of  old,  perilous  function  of  an  Antipope.^  He  had  to 
plunge  into  an  interminable  religious  war,  with  the 
administration,  though  without  power,  of  the  spiritual 
afiairs  of  half  Christendom,  the  implacable  hatred  of 
the  other  half.  Some  difficulties  were  raised,  but  not 
those  of  a  deep  or  earnest  mind.  He  demurred  about 
the  form  of  the  oath,  the  change  of  the  name,  the  loss 
of  his  hermit's  beard.  He  yielded  the  two  first  points, 
took  the  oath,  and  the  name  of  Felix  Y. ;  ^  the  last 
only  on  finding  out  himself,  when  he  appeared  as  Pope 
in  the  neighboring  town  of  Thonon,  the  unseemliness 
of  a  thick-bearded  Pope  among  a  retinue  of  shaven 
ecclesiastics. 

1  It  waa  his  avarice  which  caused  the  delay,  says  the  unfriendly  ^neas. 
Tet  it  was  natonl  in  him  to  say,  "  You  have  passed  a  decree  suppressing 
Annates :  how  is  the  Pope  to  be  maintained  ?  Am  I  to  expend  my  patri- 
mony,  and  so  disinherit  my  sons?  **  —  Fea,  p.  78. 

'  Accepts,  Dec.  17. 


Chap.  XV.  THE  ANTIPOPE.  61 

Though  enthroned  in  the  Church  of  St.  Maurice, 
some  months  elapsed  before  his  triumphant  June  24,1440. 
progress  through  Switzerland  to  his  coronation  at  Basle. 
He  had  created  five  Cardinals,  who  assisted  the  Car- 
dinal of  Aries  in  the  imposing  ceremony  first  of  his 
consecration  as  Bishop,  afterwards  his  coronation  as 
Pope ;  his  two  sons,  the  Duke  of  Savoy  and  the  Count 
of  Greneva,  an  unusual  sight  at  a  Papal  inauguration, 
stood  by  his  side.  Fifty  thousand  spectators  beheld 
the  stately  ceremony :  the  tiara  which  he  wore  was  of 
surpassing  cost  and  splendor,  said  to  be  worth  30,000 
gold  crowns.^ 

So  then  for  the  last  time  Christendom  beheld  the 
strife  of  Pope  and  Antipope,  each  on  their  respective 
thrones,  hurling  spiritual  thunders  against  each  other. 
The  indignation  of  Eugenius  knew  no  bounds.  His 
denunciations  contained  all  and  more  than  all  the  mal- 
edictions which  were  laid  up  in  the  Papal  armory 
against  usurping  rivals.  The  Fathers  of  Basle  repelled 
them,  if  with  less  virulent,  with  not  less  provoking 
contempt. 

Bat  Christendom  heard  these  arguments  and  re- 
criminations with  mortifying  indifierence.  That  which 
some  centuries  ago  would  have  arrayed  kingdom  against 
kingdom,  and  divided  each  kingdom  within  itself,  the 
sovereigns  against  the  hierarchy,  or  the  hierarchy  in 
civil  feud,  now  hardly  awoke  curiosity.  No  omen  so 
sure  of  the  decline  of  the  sacerdotal  power;  never 
again  had  it  vital  energy  enough  for  a  schism. 

The  Transalpine  kingdoms  indeed  took  different  parts, 
but  with  such  languid  and  inactive  zeal,  that  as  to  the 
smaller  states  it  is  difficult  without  close  investigation  to 

1  iEneas  SjlyioB,  Hist.  ConcO.  Basil.  1.  ii. 


62  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIIL 

detect  their  bias.  France  had  already  in  her  synod  at 
Bourges  declared  in  favor  of  the  Council,  but  expressed 
cold  and  discouraging  doubts  as  to  its  powers  of  depos- 
ing Pope  Eugenius  and  electing  another  Pontiff.  The 
King  spoke  of  Felix  V.  as  of  Monsieur  de  Savoye,  sug- 
gested the  summoning  another  Council  in  some  city 
of  France,  but  took  no  measure  to  enforce  his  sugges- 
tion. England  was  occupied,  as  indeed  was  France, 
with  its  own  internal  contests.  The  King  of  Arra- 
gon  alone  took  an  active  part,  but  on  both  sides,  and 
for  his  own  ends.  The  kingdom  of  Naples  was  his 
sole  object ;  he  would  wrest  that  realm  from  the  feeble 
pretensions  of  Ren^  of  Anjou.  At  first  the  devoted 
ally  of  Felix,  he  would  transport  the  Antipope  to  the 
shores  of  Naples,  having  subdued  the  kingdom  to  him- 
self under  the  Papal  investiture,  march  to  Rome  with 
his  triumphant  forces,  and  place  the  Antipope  in  the 
chair  of  St.  Peter.  Amadeus  wisely  shrunk  from  this 
desperate  enterprise.  The  King  of  Arragon,  in  a  year 
or  two,  had  changed  his  game.  The  Pope  Eugenius 
scrupled  not,  at  the  hazard  of  estranging  France,  to 
abandon  the  helpless  Angevine.  Alfonso  of  Arragon 
became  convinced  of  the  rightful  title  of  Eugenius  to 
the  Pontificate. 

Germany  maintained  the  most  cool  and  deliberate 
apathy.  At  three  successive  Diets  at  Mentz,^  at  Nu- 
remberg, at  Frankfort,  appeared  the  envoys  of  Basle 
and  of  Rome,  of  Felix  and  of  Eugenius,  men  of  the 
most  consummate  eloquence.     At  Mentz  John  Bishop 

1  Mentz,  Feb.  1440.  At  Mentz  the  Diet,  before  the  election  of  the  Emper- 
or Frederick  III.,  in  the  disdainful  assertion  of  their  neutrality,  published 
a  declaration  in  which  they  sedulously  avoided  the  word  Pope.  Th^ 
spoke  of  Ecciesia  Dei,  Ecclesia  Romana,  Sedes  Apostolica,  as  the  *'  cui  fa- 
denda  est  adhsesio."  —  Dax,  Nicolas  von  Cusa,  p.  223. 


Chap.  XV.    ENVOYS  OF  EUGENIUS  AND  THE  COUNCIL.     68 

of  Segovia  on  the  part  of  Basle,  Nicolas  of  Cusa  on 
the  part  of  Rome,  pleaded  the  caose  of  their  respective 
masters :  they  cited  authorities  ivhich  of  old  would  have 
commanded  awful  reverence,  precedents  which  would 
have  been  admitted  as  irrefragable,  but  were  heard 
with  languid  indifference.  At  Nuremberg  with  Nico- 
las of  Cusa  stood  the  Archbishop  of  Tarento  not.  so,  1440. 
and  the  famous  Dominican  Torquemada,  on  the  side 
of  Basle  the  Patriarch  of  Aquileia.  At  a.d.  1441. 
Mentz^  again  Nicolas  de  Cusa  took  the  lead  for  the 
Pope,  the  Archbishop  of  Palermo  for  the  Council. 
The  Diet  on  each  occasion  relapsed  into  its  ostenta- 
tious neutrality,  which  it  maintained  at  subsequent 
meetings.^  Even  the  aggressive  measure  a.d.  1448. 
ventured  at  length  by  Eugenius,  the  degradation  of 
the  Archbishops  of  Cologne  and  Treves,  as  adherents 
of  the  heretical  Council,  and  the  usurping  pseudo-pope, 
might  have  passed  away  as  an  ineffectual  menace ;  no 
one  would  have  thought  of  dispossessing  these  power- 
fol  Prelates.  If  he  might  hope  to  raise  a  strife  in 
Germany  by  appointing  Prelates  of  noble  or  rich  Ger- 
man houses,  therov  was  danger  lest  the  nation  might 
resent  this  interference  with  the  German  Electorate ; 
it  might  lead  to  the  renunciation  of  his  authority.  He 
must  look  for  other  support.     To  Cologne  he  named 

1  Dax  has  given  Nicolas  de  Cnsa's  speech  at  length.  His  speech  and 
that  of  the  Archbishop  of  Palermo  are  in  Wurdtwein. 

2  The  speech  of  Nicolas  of  Cusa  shows  the  course  of  argument  adopted 
to  annul  the  pretensions  and  blast  the  character  of  Felix.  The  wh61e  is 
represented  as  an  old  and  deep-laid  conspiracy  on  his  part.  The  Council, 
the  Conclave  had  been  crowded  with  his  obsequious  vassals  (the  four  Italian 
Bishope  were,  it  is  true,  those  of  Veroelli,  Turin,  Aosta,  and  another) ;  his 
reluctance  to  assume  the  tiara  was  hypocritical  effrontery;  even  his  former 
Abdication  of  his  throne  a  base  simulation  of  humility. 


64  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XHL 

the  nephew,  to  Treves  the  natural  son,  of  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy. 

The  Schism  seemed  as  if  it  would  be  left  to  die  out 
of  itself,  or,  if  endowed  with  inextinguishable,  obsti- 
nate vitality,  be  kept  up  in  unregarded  insignificance. 
Some  of  the  Fathers  of  Basle  still  remained  in  the  city, 
but  had  ceased  their  sessions.^  The  Council  of  Flor- 
ence was  prorogued  to  Rome.  Eugenius  was  in  un- 
disturbed possession  of  Italy;  Felix  in  his  court  at 
Lausanne,  or  Geneva.  The  Popes  might  still  hate, 
they  could  not  injure,  hardly  molest  each  other ;  they 
might  wage  a  war  of  decrees,  but  no  more. 

One  man  alone  by  his  consummate  address  and  sub- 
tlety, by  his  inde&tigable  but  undiscemed  influence, 
restored  the  Papacy  to  Italy,  never  but  for  one  short 
reign  (that  of  Adrian  VI.  of  Utrecht)  to  depart  from 
it,  himself  in  due  time  to  receive  the  reward  of  his 
success  in  nothing  less  than  the  Popedom.  Eugenius 
and  his  successor  Pope  Nicolas  V.  enjoyed  the  fame 
and  the  immediate  advantage  of  the  discomfiture  of 
the  Council  of  Basle,  of  its  inglorious  dissolution.  But 
the  real  author  of  that  dissolution,  of  its  gradual  degra- 
dation in  the  estimation  of  Europe,  of  the  alienation  of 
the  Emperor  from  its  cause ;  he  who  quietly  drove 
Pope  Felix  to  his  abdication,  and  even  added  firmness 
and  resolution  to  the  obstinate  and  violent  opposition 
of  Pope  Eugenius,  was  Mneas  Sylvius  Piccolomini. 

1  Lasf  Session.    The  44th.    Haj,  1488. 


Chap.XYI.  JS^EAS  SYLVIUS.  65 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

.«NEA8  SYLVIUS  PICCOLOMINI.    DISSOLUTION  OF  COUNCIL 

OF  BASLE. 

The  life  of  ^neas  Sylvius  is  the  history  of  the  dis- 
solution of  the  Council  of  Basle  ;  and  not  only  so,  but 
as  an  autobiography  of  an  Italian,  a  Churchman,  a 
Cardinal,  at  length  a  Pope,  the  most  valuable  part  of 
the  Christian  history  of  his  times  —  that  of  the  opin- 
ions, manners,  judgments,  feelings  of  mankind.  Con- 
trast it  with  the  rise  of  high  ecclesiastics  in  former 
times  I 

The  house  of  Piccolomini  had  been  among  the 
noblest  of  Sienna,  lords  of  fortresses  and  castles.  On 
the  rise  of  the  popular  government  in  that  city,  the 
Ficcolominis  sunk  with  the  rest  of  the  nobles.  Yet  the 
grand&ther  of  ^neas  possessed  an  ample  estate.  He 
died  early,  leaving  his  wife  pregnant.  The  estate  was 
dissipated  by  negligent  or  improvident  guardians  ;  the 
father  of  ^neas  married  a  noble  virgin,  but  without 
dowry,  except  the  burdensome  one  —  extraordinary 
fertility.  She  frequently  bore  twins,  and  in  the  end 
had  twenty-two  children.  Ten  only  grew  up,  and  Pic- 
colomini retired  to  the  quiet  town  of  Corsignano,  to 
bring  up  in  humble  condition  his  large  family.  The 
plague  swept  off  all  but  ^neas  Sylvius  and  two  sisters. 

^neas  Sylvius  was  bom  October  18,  1405.  His 
VOL.  vin.  5 


66  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XHI. 

third  baptismal  name  was  Bartholomew,  that  of  the 
Apostle  of  India.  His  infancy  was  not  uneventfiil : 
at  three  years  old  *he  fell  from  a  wall,  was  taken  up, 
as  supposed,  with  a  mortal  wound  in  his  head ;  at  eight 
was  tossed  by  a  bull.  At  the  age  of  twenty-two  he 
left  his  father's  house,  heir  to  no  more  than  his  noble 
name,  went  to  Sienna,  was  maintained  by  his  relations, 
and  studied  law  and  letters.  The  war  between  Flor- 
ence and  Sienna  drove  him  from  his  native  city  to  seek 
his  fortunes.  Dominico  Capranica,  named  as  Cardinal 
by  Pope  Martin  V.,  rejected  by  Pope  Eugenius,  es- 
poused the  cause  of  the  Council  of  Basle.  He  engaged 
the  young  Piccolomini  as  his  secretary.  After  a  peril- 
ous voyage  ^neas  reached  Genoa,  travelled  to  MUan, 
where  he  saw  the  great  Duke  Philippo  Maria,  and 
passed  the  snowy  St.  Gothard  to  Basle.  Capranica, 
though  he  resumed  his  Cardinalate  on  the  authority  of 
the  Council,  was  too  poor  to  keep  a  secretary,  ^neas 
found  employment  in  the  same  office,  first  with  Nico- 
demo  Scaligero,  Bishop  of  Freisingen,  son  of  the  Lord 
of  Verona ;  him  he  accompanied  to  Frankfort :  after- 
wards with  Bartolomeo  Visconti,  Bishop  of  Novara. 
With  the  Bishop  of  Novara  he  returned  to  Italy ;  by 
his  own  account,  through  his  eloquence  obtained  the 
Rectorship  of  the  University  of  Pavia  for  a  Novarese 
of  humble  birth,  against  a  Milanese  of  noble  family 
and  powerful  connections.  With  the  Bishop  of  Novara 
he  went  to  Florence,  to  the  Court  of  Pope  Eugenius : 
he  visited  the  famous  Piccinino,  and  his  own  kindred 
at  Sienna.  On  his  return  to  Florence  he  found  his 
master,  the  Bishop  of  Novara,  under  a  charge  of  cap- 
ital treason.^   The  Bishop  and  his  secretary  Piccolomini 

^  Yoigt,  Leben  ^nea  Sjlvio,  p.  80  (Berlin,  1856),  has  attempted  to  un- 


Chap.  XVI.  iENEAS  IN  SCOTLAND.  67 

foand  refiige  under  the  protection  of  the  Cardinal  of 
Santa  Croce  (Albergati).  The  Cardinal  was  sent  as 
Legate  to  France,  to  reconcile  the  Kings  of  France  and 
England,  Charles  VII.  and  Henry  VI.  In  attendance 
on  the  Cardinal  j^neas  passed  a  third  time  through 
Milan,  crossed  the  St.  Bernard,  and  descended  on  the 
Lake  of  Greneva.  At  Thonon  he  saw  Amadeus  of 
Savoy,  afterwards  the  Pope  Felix  V.  of  the  Council 
of  Basle,  in  his  hermitage,  living,  as  he  says,  a  life  of 
pleasure  rather  than  of  penance.^  They  proceeded 
to  Basle,  not  yet  at  open  war  with  Pope  Eugenius, 
dropped  down  the  Rhine  to  Cologne,  took  horse  to 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  Liege,  Louvain,  Douay,  Tournay, 
to  Arras.  The  Cardinal  di  Santa  Croce  began  his 
difficult  function  of  mediating  between  the  French,  the 
English,  and  the  Burgundians. 

^.^Ineas  was  despatched  on  a  special  mission  to  Scot- 
land, to  restore  a  certain  prelate  to  the  favor  of  the 
King.  He  went  to  Calais.  The  suspicious  English 
would  not  permit  him  to  proceed  or  to  go  back.  For- 
tunately the  Cardinal  of  Winchester  arrived  from  Ar- 
ras, and  obtained  for  him  permission  to  embark.  But 
the  English  looked  with  jealousy  on  the  secretary  of 
the  Cardinal  of  Santa  Croce,  whom  they  accused  of 
conspiring  to  alienate  Philip  of  Burgundy  from  their 
cause.  He  was  refused  letters  of  safe-conduct;  he 
must  be  employed  in  some  hostile  intrigue  with  the 
Scots.  During  this  delay  ^neas  visited  the  wonders 
of  populous  and  most  wealthy  London.     He  saw  the 

ravel  a  deep  plot  against  Eug^nius  FV.    It  is  questionable  whether  the 
Bishop  of  Novara  was  not  treacherous  both  to  the  Pope  and  to  the  Yisconti, 
m  whose  fkyor  he  was  reinstated. 
^  **  Magis  volnptuosam  quam  poenitentialem." 


68  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XHI. 

noble  church  of  St.  Paul's,  the  sumptuous  tombs  of 
the  kings  at  Westmmster,  the  Thames,  with  the  rapid 
ebb  and  flow  of  its  tide,  and  the  bridge  like  a  city.^ 
But  of  all  things,  the  shrine  of  St.  Thomas  at  Canter- 
bury most  excited  his  amazement,  covered  with  dia- 
monds, fine  double  pearls,^  and  carbuncles.  No  one 
offered  less  than  silver  at  this  shrine.  He  crossed  to 
Flanders,  went  to  Bruges,  took  ship  at  Ecluse,  the 
most  frequented  port  in  the  West,  was  blown  towards 
the  coast  of  Norway,  encountered  two  terrible  storms, 
one  of  fourteen  hours,  one  of  two  nights  and  a  day. 
The  sailors  were  driven  so  far  north  that  they  did  not 
know  the  stars.  The  twelfth  day  a  lucky  north  wind 
brought  them  to  Scotland.  In  a  fit  of  devout  grati- 
tude ^neas  walked  barefoot  ten  miles  to  Our  Lady 
at  Whitechurch,'  but  suffered  so  much  from  exhaustion 
and  numbed  feet  that  he  hardly  got  to  the  court.  He 
was  received  by  the  King  with  great  favor,  obtained 
,  the  object  of  his  mission,  his  expenses  were  paid,  and 
he  was  presented  with  fifty  nobles  and  two  horses  for 
his  journey. 

The  Italian  describes  Scotland  as  a  cold  country, 
producing  litde  com,  almost  without  wood.  "  They 
dig  out  of  the  earth  a  kind  of  sulphurous  stone,  which 
they  burn."  Their  cities  have  no  walls,  their  houses 
are  mostly  built  without  mortar,  the  roofs  of  turf,  the 
doors  of  the  cottages  bulls'  hides.    The  common  people 

1  He  saw  also  a  yillage,  where  men  were  said  to  be  bom  with  tails. 
*  Unionibus. 

"  And  in  his  cup  an  union  shall  he  throw 
Richer  than  that  which  four  BnocessiTe  kings 
On  Denmark's  throne  hsTe  worn." 

BamUt^  T.  2. 
—See  Kare6*8  Glossary. 


Chap.  XVI.  .fiNEAS  IN  SCOTLAND.  60 

are  poor  and  rude,  with  plenty  of  flesh  and  fish ;  bread 
is  a  delicacy.  The  men  are  small  and  bold ;  the 
women  of  white  complexion,  disposed  to  sexual  indul- 
gence.^ They  had  only  imported  wine.^  They  export 
to  Flanders  hides,  wool,  salt-fish  and  pearls.^  The 
Scots  were  delighted  by  nothing  so  much  as  abuse  of 
the  English.  Scotland  was  divided  into  two  parts: 
one  cultivated  (the  lowlands) ;  one  forest  (the  high- 
lands) without  cornfields.  The  forest  Scots  spoke  a 
different  language,  and  lived  on  the  barks  of  trees.* 
During  the  winter  solstice,  the  time  when  ^neas  was 
there,  the  days  were  only  four  hours  long. 

^neas  had  suffered  enough  in  his  sea  voyages ;  he 
determined  to  run  all  hazards,  and  find  his  way  through 
England.  He  was  fortunate  in  his  resolution :  the  ship 
in  which  he  was  about  to  embark  foundered  at  the 
mouth  of  the  haven.  The  captain,  who  was  returning 
to  Flanders  to  be  married,  with  all  the  passengers  and 
crew,  were  drowned  in  sight  of  shore.  JBneas  set  off 
disguised  as  a  merchant.  He  passed  the  Tweed  in  a 
boat,  entered  a  large  town  about  sunset,  found  lodging 
in  a  cottage  where  he  was  housed,  and  supped  with  the 
parish  priest.  He  had  plenty  of  broth,  geese  and 
fowls  ;  neither  wine  nor  bread.  All  the  women  of  the 
town  crowded  to  see  him,  as  to  see  a  negro  or  an  In- 
dian in  Italy.     They  asked  who  he  was,  whether  he 

1  ^neas  adds  that  kissing  women  in  Scotland  meant  no  more  than  shak- 
ing hands  in  Italy.  Like  Erasmus  later  in  England,  he  drew  Italian  con- 
clusions firom  Northern  manners. 

2  Their  horses  were  small  hackneys,  mostly  geldings.  They  neither 
curried  nor  combed  them.    They  had  no  bridles ! 

*  Margaritas. 

^  He  says  also  that  there  were  no  woods  in  Scotland.  Rooks  (cornices) 
were  newly  introduced,  and  therefore  the  trees  whereon  they  built  belonged 
U>  the  King's  Exchequer ! 


TO  LATIN  CHRISTIAKITY.  Book  XHI. 

was  a  Christian,  ^neas  had  been  warned  of  the 
scanty  fare  which  he  would  find  on  his  journey,  and 
had  provided  himself  in  a  certain  monastery  (there  no 
doubt  alone  such  luxuries  could  be  found)  with  some 
loaves  of  bread  and  a  measure  of  red  wine.  This 
heightened  the  wonder  of  the  barbarians,  who  had 
never  seen  wine  nor  white  bread.  Some  women  with 
child  becran  to  handle  the  bread  and  smell  the  wine, 
^neas  was  too  courteous  not  to  gratify  their  longings, 
and  gave  them  the  whole.  The  supper  lasted  till  the 
second  hour  of  the  night,  when  the  priest,  his  host,  and 
his  children,  and  all  the  men,  took  leave  of  ^neas, 
and  said  that  they  must  retire  to  a  certain  tower  a  long 
way  off  for  fear  of  the  Scots,  who,  on  the  ebb  of  the 
tide,  were  wont  to  cross  over  and  plunder.  No  en- 
treaties could  induce  them  to  take  ^neas  with  them, 
nor  any  of  their  women,  though  many  of  them  were 
young  girls  and  handsome  matrons.  The  enemy  would 
do  them  no  harm :  the  borderers'  notions  of  harm  were 
somewhat  peculiar.-^  The  Italian  remained  with  his 
two  servants,  a  single  guide,  and  a  hundred  women, 
who  sat  round  the  fire  all  night  spinning  hemp  and 
talking  with  his  interpreter.  After  great  part  of  the 
night  was  passed,  there  was  a  violent  barking  of  dogs 
and  cackling  of  geese.  The  women  ran  away,  the 
guide  with  them,  and  there  was  as  great  confusion  as 
if  the  enemy  were  there.  JSneas  thought  it  most  pru- 
dent to  stay  in  his  chamber  (it  was  a  stable),  lest,  be- 
ing quite  ignorant  of  the  ways,  he  might  run  into  the 

1-  "  Qui  stuprum  inter  mala  non  dncunt**  It  mast  be  remembered  that 
Maeas  picked  np  all  he  learned  through  an  interpreter,  probably  a  man 
who  knew  a  few  words  of  bad  Latin.  I  owe  perhaps  an  apology  for  insert- 
mg  this  scene,  so  irresistibly  characteristiCf  if  not  quite  in  its  place.  Walter 
Scott,  if  I  remember,  had  seen  it  in  his  multifarious  reading. 


Chaf.  XVI.  .BNEAS  IN  ENGLAND.  71 

arms  of  the  mosstroopers.  Presently  the  women  and 
the  guide  returned:  it  was  a  ialse  alarm. 

JBneas  set  out  the  next  morning.  When  he  arrived 
at  Newcastle  (said  to  be  a  work  of  the  CsBsars)  he 
seemed  to  have  returned  to  the  habitable  world,  so  rug- 
ged, wild,  and  bleak,  was  the  whole  Border.  At  Dur- 
ham he  visited  the  tomb  of  the  venerable  Bede.  At 
York,  a  large  and  populous  city,  there  was  a  church 
fiunous  throughout  the  world  for  its  size  and  architec- 
ture, with  a  most  splendid  shrine,  and  with  glass  walls 
(the  rich  and  large  windows)  between  very  slender 
clustered  pillars.  (Had  JBneas  seen  none  of  the  Ger- 
man or  Flemish  Gothic  cathedrals?)  On  his  way 
southward  he  fell  in  with  one  of  the  judges  of  the 
realm,  returning  to  his  court  in  London.  The  judge 
began  to  talk  of  the  business  in  Arras,  and,  not  suspect- 
ing who  JSneas  was,  to  abuse  the  Cardinal  of  Santa 
Croce  as  a  wolf  in  sheep's  clothing.  In  the  company 
of  the  judge,  who,  had  he  known  who  he  was,  would 
have  committed  him  to  prison,  he  arrived  safe  in  Lon- 
don. There  he  found  a  royal  proclamation  that  no  for- 
dgner  should  leave  the  realm  without  a  passport,  which 
he  cared  not  to  ask  for.  He  got  away  by  bribing  the 
officers,  a  matter  of  course,  as  such  personages  never 
refuse  hard  money.  He  crossed  from  Dover  to  Calais, 
thence  to  Basle  and  to  Milan.  Finding  that  the  Cardi- 
nal of  Santa  Croce  had  been  sent  back  from  Florence, 
and  had  passed  by  the  Valley  of  the  Adige,  and  over 
the  Arlberg  to  Basle,  he  returned  over  the  Alps  by 
Brig,  and  joined  his  master  at  Basle. 

^neas  was  an  Italian  in  his  passions,  and  certainly 
under  no  austere,  monkish  self-control.  His  morals 
were  those  of  his  age  and  country.     His  letters  are  fall 


72  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIH. 

of  amatory  matters,  in  the  earlier  of  which,  as  he  by 
no  means  counsels  his  friends  to  severe  restraint,  he 
does  not  profess  to  set  them  an  example.  Licentious- 
ness seems  to  be  a  thing  of  course.  He  was  not  yet  in 
holy  orders :  to  do  him  justice,  as  yet  he  shrank  from 
that  decided  step,  lest  it  should  involve  him  in  some 
difficulties.  ^  His  confessions  are  plain  enough ;  he 
makes  no  boast  of  constancy.^  But  the  most  unblush- 
ing avowal  of  his  loose  notions  appears  in  a  letter  to 
his  own  father,  whom  he  requests  to  take  charge  of  a 
natural  son.  The  mother  of  his  son  was  an  English- 
woman whom  he  met  at  Strasburg,  of  no  great  beauty, 
but  who  spoke  It^^lian  with  great  ease  and  sweetness. 
"  It  was  the  beauty  of  her  eloquence  by  which  Cle- 
opatra inthralled  not  Mark  Antony  only,  but  Julius 
Caesar."  He  anticipates  his  father's  objection  to  the 
sinfulness  of  his  conduct,  in  being  a  parent  without 
being  a  husband.  He  had  done  only  what  every  one 
else  did.  God  had  made  him  prone  to  desire :  he  did 
not  pretend  to  be  holier  than  David,  or  wiser  than  Sol- 
omon. He  borrows  the  language  of  Terence  —  "  Shall 
I,  weak  man  that  I  am,  not  do  that  which  so  many 
great  men  have  done  ?"  But  his  examples  are  not  the 
gods  of  the  heathen  lover  in  the  comedy,  but  Moses, 
Aristotle,  and  some  good  Christians.^     Let  us  hastily 

*  "  Cavi  ne  me  sacer  ordo  involveret."  —  Epist.  1. 

3  "  Ego  plures  vidi  amavique  foeminaa,  quarum  exinde  potitus,  magnum 
taedium  suscepi.'*  —  Epist.  xlvi.  Compare  the  coarse  pleasantry,  Epist. 
ixii.    He  was  averse  to  German  women:  he  could  not  speak  German. 

8  '*  Mecumque  quis  reprehendit,  inquam,  si  ego  humuncio  faciam,  quod 
maximi  viri  non  sunt  aspemati.  Interdum  Moysen,  intcrdum  Aristotelem, 
nonnunqnam  Christinnos  in  exemplum  sumebam."  —  Epist.  xv.  The  pub« 
licationf  or  at  least  the  admission  of  this  letter  into  a  collection  published 
after  the  Popedom  of  ^neas,  is  singular  enough.  But  even  this  letter  is 
modesty  compared  to  Epist  xxiii. 


Ghap.XVI.  morals  of  iENEAS.  78 

despatch  this,  if  not  the  least  curious,  not  the  most 
edifying  passage  in  the  life  of  the  future  Pope.  Later 
in  life  he  was  seized  with  a  paroxysm  of  virtue,  and 
wrote  some  letters  on  such  subjects  in  a  more  grave 
and  ecclesiastical  tone.  In  an  epistle  written  at  the 
approach  of  Lent,  he  urges  his  friend  to  flee  all  woman- 
kind, as  a  fatal  pestilence.  When  you  look  on  a  woman 
you  look  on  the  devil.  He  had  himself  erred  often, 
too  often  ;  and  he  acknowledges  that  he  had  become 
more  correct,  not  from  severe  virtue,  but  from  the  ad- 
vance, it  must  have  been,  of  premature  age.  He  con- 
soled himself,  however,  for  one  vice  which  he  could  not 
indulge,  by  another.  The  votary  of  Venus  (his  own 
words)  had  become  the  votary  of  Bacchus.  To  his 
new  god  he  will  be  faithfril  to  death,  ^neas  must 
then  have  been  between  thirty-five  and  forty  years 
old.i 

He  was  forty  when  he  wrote  his  celebrated  Romance, 
Euryalus  and  Lucretia,  a  romance  with  neither  incident 
nor  invention ;  ^  in  its  moral  tone  and  in  the  warmth 
of  its  descriptions,  as  in  its  prolixity,  a  novel  of  Boccac- 
cio, but  without  his  inimitable  grace ;  yet  ^neas  no 
doubt  thought  that  he  infinitely  surpassed  Boccaccio's 
vulgar  Italian  by  his  refined  and  classical  Latinity.  In 
the  penitential  Letter  on  this  subject,  in  later  life  (after 


1  ^  Turn  quoque  et  illud  verum  est  languescere  vires  meas,  canis  aspereos 
tnm,  aridi  nervi  siint,  ossa  cariosa,  nigis  corpus  aratum  est.  Nee  ulli  ego 
foniins  possum  esse  voluptati,  nee  voluptatem  mihi  afferre  foemina  potest. 
Baccho  magis  quam  Veneri  parebo:  vinum  me  alit,  me  juvat,  me  oblectat, 
me  beat:  hie  liquor  suavis  mihi  erlt  usque  ad  mortem.  Namque  ut  fateor, 
magis  me  Venus  fiigitat,  quam  ego  illam  horreo."  The  letter  (Epist  xcii.) 
is  written  to  John  Freund,  Prothonotaxy  of  Cologne,  not  long  after  the  diet 
of  Nuremberg,  a.d.  1443. 

*  The  disgraceful  history  is  probably  a  true  one. 


74  LATIN  CHBISTIANITY.  BookXIU. 

he  was  Pope  1)  the  lingering  vanity  of  the  author  still 
struggles  with  his  sense  of  decency.^ 

So,  then,  the  Siennese  adventurer  had  visited  almost 
every  realm  of  Northern  Europe,  France,  Grermany, 
Flanders,  Scotland,  England;  he  is  in  the  confidence 
of  Cardinals,  he  is  in  correspondence  with  many  of 
the  most  learned  and  influential  men  in  Christen- 
dom. 

No  sooner  was  ^neas  fixed  at  Basle,  than  his  singu- 
lar aptitude  for  business,  no  doubt  his  fluent  and  per- 
spicuous Latin,  his  flexibility  of  opinion,  his  rapidly 
growing  knowledge  of  mankind,  his  determination  to 
push  his  fortunes,  his  fidelity  to  the  master  in  whose 
service  he  happened  to  be,  opened  the  way  to  advance- 
ment; offices,  honors,  rewards  crowded 'upon  him.  He 
was  secretary,^  first  reporter  of  the  proceedings,  then 
held  the  office  as  writer  of  the  epistles  of  the  Council.*^ 
He  was  among  the  twelve  Presidents  chosen  by  the 
Council.  The  office  of  these  duodecimvirs  was  to  pre- 
pare all  business  for  the  deliberation  of  the  Council; 
nothing  could  be  brought  forward  without  their  previ- 
ous sanction,  nor  any  one  admitted  to  the  Council  till 
they  had  examined  and  approved  his  title.  He  often 
presided  over  his  department,  which  was  that  of  faith. 
The  leaden  seal  of  the  Council  was  often  in  his  custody. 
During  his  career  he  was  ambassador  from  the  Council 
three  times  to  Strasburg,  twice  to  Constance,  twice  to 

1  Epist.  occxv.  There  were  two  things  in  the  book,  a  too  lasciviooB  love- 
stoiy  and  an  edifying  moral.  Unhappily  many  readers  dwelt  on  the  first; 
hardly  any,  alas !  attended  to  the  latter.  **  Ita  ImpraTatum  est  atque  ob- 
inscatum  infelix  mortalium  genus."  He  adds,  "  Nee  privatum  homiaein 
pluris  facite  quam  Pontifieem;  iEneam  rejicite,  Piam  snscipite." 

2  Scriba. 

*  Abbreviator  major. 


Chap.XYI.  .£N£AS  AT  BASLE.  75 

Frankfort,  once  to  Trent,  later  to  the  Emperor  Albert, 
and  to  persuade  Frederick  III.  to  espouse  the  cause  of 
the  Council. 

His  eloquence  made  him  a  power.  His  first  appear- 
ance with  a  voice  in  the  Council  seems  to  have  been  in 
the  memorable  debate  on  the  prorogation  of  the  Coun- 
cil to  Italy.  We  have  heard  that,  while  the  Pope  in- 
sisted on  the  removal  of  the  Council  to  Florence  or 
Udine,  the  Council  would  remove  only  to  Avignon. 
The  Duke  of  Milan,  by  his  ambassadors,  urged  the  in- 
termediate measure,  ihe  adjournment  to  the  city  of 
Pavia.  But  his  ambassador,  Isidore  Bishop  of  Ros- 
sano,  was  but  an  indifferent  orator.  He  talked  so  fool- 
ishly that  they  were  obliged  to  silence  him.  iBneas 
had  been  twice  or  three  times  at  Milan  ;  he  was  not 
averse  to  make  Mends  at  that  powerful  Court ;  nor 
was  he  disinclined  by  taking  a  middle  course  to  wait 
the  issue  of  events.  He  obtained  permission  of  the 
President,  the  Cardinal  Julian  Csesarini,  and  urged  in 
a  speech  of  two  hours,  which  excited  the  greatest  ad- 
miration, the  claims  of  Pavia  against  Florence,  Udine, 
and  Avignon.  His  zeal  was  not  unrewarded.  The 
Archbishop  presented  him  to  the  Provostship  of  St. 
Lawrence  in  Milan.  His  rival  Isidore  remonstrated 
against  the  appointment  of  a  stranger.  He  protested 
before  the  Council ;  the  Council  was  unanimously  in 
fevor  of  iBneas.  He  went  to  Milan,  but  found  that 
the  Chapter  had  already  elected  a  Provost  of  the  noble 
house  of  Landriano,  whom  he  found  in  actual  posses- 
sion. But  the  Duke,  the  Archbishop,  and  the  Court 
were  all-powerful ;  the  intruder  was  expelled.  At 
Milan  iBneas  was  seized  with  a  fever,  which  lasted 
seventy-five  days,  and   was  subdued  with   great  dif- 


76  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIH. 

ficulty.^  On  his  return  to  Basle,  he  recovered  his 
heahh  so  far  as  to  be  able  to  preach  the  commemora- 
tion sermon  on  the  day  of  St.  Ambrose,  Bishop  of  Mil- 
an. This  sermon  by  one  not  in  orders  was  opposed 
by  the  theologians,  but  met  with  great  success. 

The  war  had  now  broken  out  between  the  Pope  and 
the  Council ;  there  was  no  middle  ground ;  every  one 
must  choose  his  side.  None,  so  long  as  he  was  in  the 
service  of  the  Council,  and  the  Council  in  the  ascend- 
ant, so  bold,  so  loyal  a  partisan,  or  with  such  lofty  con- 
ceptions of  the  superiority  of  the  Council  over  the 
Pope,  as  ^neas  Piccolomini.  As  historian  of  the 
Council,  he  asserts  its  plenary  authority.  The  reasons 
which  he  assigns  for  undertaking  this  work  ai«  charac- 
teristic.  He  had  begun  to  repent  that  he  had  wasted 
so  much  time  in  the  idle  and  unrewarded  pursuits  of 
poetry,  oratory,  history.  Was  he  still  to  live  improvi- 
dent as  the  birds  of  the  air  or  the  beasts  of  the  field  ? 
Was  he  never  to  be  in  possession  of  money,  the  owner 
of  an  estate  ?  The  true  rule  of  life  is,  that  a  man  at 
twenty  should  strive  to  be  great,  at  thirty  prudent,  at 
forty  rich.  But,  alas  I  the  bias  was  too  strong :  he 
must  write  history. 

Throughout  that  history  he  is  undisguisedly,  inflex- 
ibly, hostile  to  Eugenius  IV.^  He  sums  up  with  great 
force  and  clearness,  irrefragably,  as  he  asserts,  to  his 
own  mind,  irrefragably  it  should  be  to  the  reason  of 
men,  the  whole  argument  for  the  supremacy  of  tho 

1  He  relates  that  a  certain  drug  was  administered,  which  appeared  to  fail 
in  its  operation.  He  was  about  to  take  a  second  dose,  when  the  first  began 
to  work :  "  ut  nonaginta  vicibus  assurgere  cogeretur.** 

^  The  reader  must  not  confound  two  distinct  histories,  one,  that  published 
in  Brown,  Fasciculus,  and  in  his  Works;  the  other  by  Fea,  in  Roms,  as  late 
as  the  year  1822.    I  cite  this  as  "  Fea." 


Chap.  XVI.  ^NEAS  AT  VIENNA,  77 

Council  over  the  Pope.  Words  are  wanting  to  express 
his  admiration  of  the  President  of  the  Council,  the 
Cardinal  Archbishop  of  Aries :  his  opponents  are  secret 
or  timid  traitors  to  the  highest  Church  principles. 
Eugenius  IV.  sinks  to  plain  Gabriel  Condolmieri.^ 
j£neas  does  not  disguise  his  contempt.  He  reproaches 
the  Pope  with  perfidy,  as  seeking  either  to  dissolve  the 
Council  or  to  deprive  it  of  its  liberty.  He  is  severe 
against  the  perjury  of  those  who  had  deserted  the 
Council  to  join  the  Pope.  Nicolas  of  Cusa,  the  Her- 
eulea  of  the  apostasy,  is  guilty  of  schism.  So  he  con- 
tinues to  the  end :  still  he  is  the  ardent  panegyrist  of 
the  Cardinal  of  Aries,  after  the  declaration  of  the  her- 
esy of  Pope  Eugenius,  after  the  deposition  of  that 
Pope,  even  after  the  election  of  Pope  Felix. 

On  the  death  of  the  Emperor  Sigismund,  Albert  of 
Austria,  elected  King  of  the  Romans,  hesitated  to  ac- 
cept the  dignity.  The  Hungarians  insisted  that  he  had 
been  raised  to  the  throne  of  Hungary  on  the  express 
condition  that  he  should  not  be  promoted  to  the  Em- 
pire. Bartolomeo,  Bishop  of  Novara,  the  ambassador 
of  Philip  Duke  of  Milan  to  Vienna,  persuaded  -Sneas, 
either  as  empowered,  or  thought  to  be  empowered,  by 
the  Council,  to  accompany  him  on  this  important  mis- 
sion. An  address,  drawn  by  JBneas,  not  only  a.d.  1488. 
induced  Albert  to  accept  the  Imperial  Crown,  but  won 
over  the  Hungarians,  more  than  to  consent,  even  to 
urge  their  King  to  this  step.  The  grateful  thanks  of 
the  Diet  were  awarded  to  ^neas.  But  Mneas  took 
great  dislike  to  Vienna,  where  he  was  afterwards  to 
pass  so  many  years :  he  returned  to  Basle. 

1  ^  Quocirca  mentita  est  iniquitas  Gabrieli,  et  perdidit  eum  Dominiu  in 
jnalitift  soft.'*  —  Lib.  ii.  sub  init 


78  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIH. 

He  returned  at  a  fearfiil  time.  During  the  sixty 
days,  it  has  been  said,  between  the  deposition  of  Euge- 
nius  IV.  and  the  election  of  his  successor,  the  plague 
raged  at  Basle.  Some  of  the  dearest  friends  of  ^neas 
fell  around  him.  He  was  himself  among  the  few  who 
had  the  malady  and  recovered.  He  might  well  ascribe 
his  cure  to  Divine  goodness,  ^neas  preferred  piety  to 
science.  There  were  two  famous  physicians,  one  a 
Parisian  of  admirable  skill  without  religion,  the  other 
a  German,  ignorant  but  pious.  The  nature  of  a  cer- 
tain powder  administered  to  iBneas  (the  rest  of  the 
mode  of  cure  is  fully  detailed^)  the  pious  doctor  kept  a 
profound  secret.  The  patient  was  in  a  high  fever,  de- 
lirious, and  so  far  gone  as  to  receive  extreme  unction. 
A  rumor  of  his  death  reached  Milan  ;  his  Provostship 
was  given  away ;  on  his  recovery  he  found  great  diffi- 
culty in  resuming  it.  He  wrote  to  his  patron  the 
Duke,  urging  that  the  fiict  of  his  writing  was  tolerably 
conclusive  proof  that  he  was  alive. 

^neas  was  not  without  his  place  of  honor  in  the 
A.]>.  1489.  great  affair  of  the  election  of  the  new  Pope. 
He  might  indeed  have  been  an  Elector.  There  were 
but  few  Italians  in  the  Conclave.  The  consent  of 
more  was  earnestly  desired.  iBneas  was  urged  to  ac* 
cumulate  the  minor  orders,  with  the  subdiaconate  and 
diaconate,  which  might  qualify  him  for  the  suffrage. 
He  was  still  unwilling  to  fetter  himself  with  the  awful 
sanctity  of  Holy  Orders.  He  was  first  employed  in 
the  difficult  negotiations  as  to  the  appointment  of  the 
Electors.     He  was  afterwards  one  of  the  two  Masters 

^  The  bubo  was  in  the  left  groin,  the  vein  of  the  left  foot  therefore  was 
opened.  He  was  not  allowed  to  sleep.  He  took  the  powder;  cataplasms 
alternately  of  green  radish  and  of  moist  chalk  were  applied  to  the  sore. 


Chap.  XVI.  JENEAS  ANTIPAPALIST.  79 

of  the  Ceremonies.  He  now  describes  himself  as  Can- 
on of  Trent,  This  canonry  had  been  granted  to  him 
by  the  grateful  Council,  and  was  held  with  his  Prov- 
ostship  of  St.  Laurence  in  Milan.  On  the  ceremonial 
of  the  Conclave  he  is  full  and  minute,  as  one  who  took 
no  small  pride  in  the  arrangements.  To  his  office  was 
attached  the  duty  of  standing  at  the  window  to  receive 
from  the  Vice-Chamberlain  the  food  for  the  use  of  the 
Conclave,  and  to  take  care  that  no  letters  or  other  un- 
lawful communications  were  introduced.  No  doubt  his 
particular  account  of  the  kinds  of  food,  .in  which  the 
Electors  indulged,  is  faithful  and  trustworthy.  He 
takes  care  to  inform  us  of  the  comical  anger  of  the 
Archdeacon  of  Cracow,  who  was  allowed  to  have  his 
dishes  of  mutton  or  lamb,  but  complained  bitterly  that 
he  might  not  have  his  poultry  or  game,  or  perhaps 
small  birds.^ 

JBneas  hailed  the  election  of  Amadeus  of  Savoy 
with  the  utmost  satisfaction ;  he  had  forgotten  the 
Epicurean  life  of  the  hermit  which  he  had  witnessed  at 
Ripaille.  The  intrigues  and  the  parsimony  of  Ama- 
deus darkened  on  his  knowledge  at  a  later  period. 
The  splendid  eulogy,  which  he  makes  a  nameless  Elec- 
tor pronounce,  might  seem  to  come  from  the  heart  of 
iBneas,  as  far  as  his  eloquence  ever  did  proceed  from 
the  heart.  Pope  Eugenius  is  still  the  odious  and  con- 
temptible Gabriel.  In  a  letter  to  his  fnend  John  of 
Segovia,  he  describes  in  rapturous  terms  the  coronation 
of  Felix  v.,  the  gravity,  majesty,  ecclesiastical  propriety 
of  his  demeanor :  ''  the  demeanor  of  him  who  had  been 
called  of  God  to  the  rule  of  his  Universal  Church."* 

1  Avicoiaa. 

3  Epist.  ad  Joann.  Segoviens.  Opera,  61, 3. 


80  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIU 

Fifty  thousand  spectators  rejoiced,  some  wept  for  joy. 
The  vain  ^neas  will  not  be  silent  as  to  his  owoi  part 
in  this  splendid  ceremonial,  though  it  bordered  on  the 
ludicrous.  The  Cardinal  of  Santa  Susanna  chanted 
the  service  ;  the  responses  were  given  by  the  advocates 
and  notaries  ^  in  such  a  dissonant  bray,  that  the  congre- 
gation burst  into  roars  of  laughter.  They  were  hearts 
ily  ashamed  of  themselves.  But  the  next  day  when 
the  preachers  were  to  make  the  responses,  ^neas, 
though  quite  ignorant  of  music  (which  requires  long 
study),  sung  out  his  part  with  unblushing  courage.^ 
-ZEneas  does  not  forget  the  tiara  worth  30,000  pieces 
of  gold,  the  processions,  the  supper  or  dinner  to  1000 
guests.  He  is  as  full  and  minute  as  a  herald,  man- 
ifestly triumphing  in  the  ceremonial  as  equalling  the 
magnificence,  as  well  as  imitating  to  the  smallest  point 
that  of  Rome. 

The  Antipope  was  not  ungrateful  to  his  partisan, 
jBneM  secre-  whosc  cloqucut  adulatiou  published  his  fame 
Felix.  and  his  virtues  to  still  doubtful  and  vacillat- 

ing Christendom,  ^neas  became  the  secretary  of 
Pope  Felix,  he  was  not  only  his  attendant  in  public, 
he  became  necessary  to  him,  and  followed  him  to  Ri- 
paille,  Thonon,  Geneva,  Lausanne. 

Frederick  III.  had  now  succeeded  to  the  Imperial 
A.D.1440.  throne.  On  his  adhesion  or  rejection  de- 
pended almost  entirely  the  fate  of  the  rival  Popes. 
Who  so  able,  who  (might  Felix  suppose)  so  true  and 
loyal,  who  with  such  consummate  address  to  conduct 
his  cause  before  the  King  of  the  Romans,  who  so 
deeply  pledged  to  the  justice  and  holiness  of  that  cause, 

^  Adyocati  et  scrmiarii. 

9  Cantitare  meam  cannen  non  erabai. 


Chap.  XVI.  SECRETARY  TO  THE  EMPEROR.  81 

as  his  faithixil   Secretary?     ^neas  is  despatched  by 
Pope  Felix  to  the  Imperial  Court  at  Frankfort. 

At  the  Court  of  Frederick  the  eloquent  and  dex-« 
terous  Italian  made  a  strong  impression  on  amm  woto. 
the  counsellors  of  the  young  Emperor,  Silves-  erick  lu. 
ter  Bishop  of  Chiemsee,  and  James  Archbishop  and 
Elector  of  Treves.  Frederick  was  urged  to  secure 
the  services  of  a  man  so  experienced  in  affairs,  so  gifted, 
so  accomplished.  Nothing  could  be  more  skilful  than 
the  manner  in  which  the  Emperor  was  recommended 
to  secure  his  attachment.  Of  all  his  accomplishments, 
^neas  was  most  vain  of  his  poetry.  The  Emperor 
appointed  him  his  Laureate ;  ^  to  his  letters  j£neas  for 
some  time  prefixed  the  proud  title  of  Poet.  He  says, 
that  he  did  this  to  teach  the  dull  Viennese,  who 
thought  poetry  something  mischievous  and  abomina- 
ble, to  treat  it  with  respect.^  \ 

Tet  he  made  some  decent  resistance;  he  must  re- 
turn to  Basle  and  obtain  his  free  discharge  from  Felix. 
He  wrung  with  difficulty,  and  only  by  the  interven- 
tion of  his  friends,  the  reluctant  assent  of  the  Anti- 
pope.  On  the  arrival  of  the  Emperor  at  Basle,  he 
was  named  Imperial  Secretary,  and  took  the  not.  1442. 
oaths  of  fidelity  to  Frederick  III. ;  he  accompanied  his 
new  Lord  to  Vienna,  -^neas  saw  the  turning-point 
of  his  fortunes,  and  never  was  man  so  deliberately 
determined  to  push  forward  those  fortunes.  "You 
know,"  he  writes  to  a  firiend  not  long  after  his  ad- 
vancement, "  that  I  serve  a  Prince  who  is  of  neither 
party,  and  who  by  holding  a  middle  course  seeks  to 
enforce  unity.      The  Servant  must  have  no  will  but 

1  The  diploma  of  poet,  dated  July  97,  1442. 
^Epistc 

VOL.  YITL  6 


82  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIU. 

that  of  his  Master/'  ^  iBneas  hopes  to  obtain  a  place 
for  his  firiend  at  Vienna.  *^  How  this  may  be  I  know 
not.  In  the  mean  time  I  shall  insinuate  myself  into 
the  King's  graces :  his  will  shall  be  mine,  I  will  oppose 
him  in  nothing.  I  am  stranger.  I  shall  act  the  part  of 
Gnatho :  what  they  af&rm,  I  affirm ;  what  they  deny, 
I  deny.^  Let  those  that  are  wise  have  their  fame,  let 
those  that  are  fools  bear  their  own  disgrace ;  I  shall 
not  trouble  myself  about  their  honor  or  their  discredit. 
I  shall  write,  as  Secretary,  what  I  am  ordered,  and  no 
more.  I  shall  hold  my  tongue  and  obey  :  if  I  should 
do  otherwise,  it  would  not  be  for  my  interest,  and  my 
interest,  you  will  allow,  should  be  my  first  object." 
It  will  soon  appear  how  much  stronger  was  the  will 
of  the  subtle  Italian  than  that  of  the  feeble  and  ir- 
resolute Emperor. 

^neas  was  for  a  time  not  unfaithful  to  the  Council. 
Already  indeed,  before  he  left  Basle,  he  had  made  the 
somewhat  tardy  discovery  that  their  aiFairs  were  not 
altogether  governed  by  the  Holy  Ghost,  but  by  hu- 
man passions.  He  began  to  think  neither  party  ab- 
solutely in  the  right.  He  was  gently,  but  rapidly 
veering  to  the  middle  course,  then  held  by  his  master 
the  Emperor.  Yet  he  treated  the  arguments  of  John 
Garovia,  orator  of  Pope  Eugenius,  with  sufficient  dis- 
dain. ^^  You  say  that  the  Pope  has  made  more  ample 
concessions  to  the  Princes  of  Germany,  and  has  hum- 
bled himself  more  than  was  ever  heard  of  Roman  Pon- 

1  There  is  something  carious  in  his  observation  about  the  Archbishop  of 
Palermo,  who  was  laboring  hard  at  Frankfort  about  his  writings.  "  Stultua 
est  qui  putat  Ubellis  et  codicibus  morere  reges."  iEneas  is  learning  to  know 
more  of  kings. 

3  Ego  peregrinufl  sum:  consultom  mlhi  est  Onathonis  ofiensum  (offidnm ?) 
•osciperei  aiunt  aio,  negant  nego.    Epist.  zlv.  p.  531. 


Chap.  XYI.  JEALOUST  OF  iENEAS.  83 

tiff.  This  stuff  may  pass  with  peasants  and  those  who 
are  utterly  ignorant  of  history."  God  alone,  ^neas 
still  asserts,  is  superior  to  a  General  Council.  "  You 
and  your  party  desire  unity ;  that  is,  on  your  own 
terms ;  if  your  Pope  remain  Supreme  Pontiff."  He 
more  than  hints  the  abdication  of  Eugenms.  ^'  He 
deserves  greatest  praise  not  who  clings  to  his  dignity, 
but  who  is  ready  to  lay  it  down.  Of  old  holy  men 
were  with  greater  difficulty  prevailed  on  to  be  elevated 
to  the  Popedom  than  they  are  now  removed  from  it. 
A  good  disposition  and  a  gentle  spirit  would  not  seek 
in  what  manner — but  how  speedily,  he  might  resign."^ 
**  In  truth,"  he  adds,  "  the  quarrel  is  not  for  the  sheep 
but  for  the  wool ;  there  would  be  less  strife  were  the 
Church  poor." 

iBneas  at  first,  notwithstanding*  his  prudential  de- 
terminations, was  an  object  of  much  jealousy  at  the 
Court  of  the  Emperor.  William  Taz,  a  Bavarian, 
was  acting  as  Imperial  Chancellor,  in  the  absence  of 
Graspar  Schlick,  who  had  filled  that  high  office  under 
three  Emperors,  Sigismund,  Albert,  and  Frederick. 
The  Bavarian  hated  Italians ;  he  thwarted  ^neas  in 
every  way.  The  Secretary  bore  all  in  patience.^  Bet- 
ter times  came  with  the  return  of  Gasper  Schlick  to 
the  Court.  At  Sienna  Gaspar  had  received  some  ci- 
vilities, and  made  friendship  with  certain  kinsmen  of 
the  Piccolomini.  The  enemy  of  ^neas,  William  Taz, 
who  had  trampled  on  the  Secretary,  began  humbly  to 
truckle  to  him.  Taz,  however,  soon  left  the  Court. 
His  other  adversaries,  as  he  rose  in  favor  with  the  Em- 

1  Epist.  xxy. 

*  AoricnUs  declinayi,  ut  iniqiue  mentis  aselliiB:  bo  ^neas  writes  of  him- 
9dL 


84  LATIN  CHRISTUNTTY.  Book  XIII. 

peror,  became  his  humble  servants.  He  was  one  of 
the  four  distinguished  persons  appointed  to  hear  at  Nu- 
remberg the  debate  before  the  Diet. 

^neas,  his  young  blood  no  longer  remonstrating, 
against  his  committing  himself  to  Holy  Orders,  now 
entered  into  the  priesthood.  His  orders  of  subdeacon, 
deacon,  priest,  followed  rapidly  on  each  other.  •  He  had 
ceased  to  dread  the  sacred  office.  He  no  longer  desired 
to  indulge  the  levity  of  a  layman ;  his  whole  delight 
was  henceforth  to  be  in  his  holy  calling.^  He  was  not 
long  without  reward  for  this  decided  step.  His  first 
benefice,  obtained  tlu-ough  the  emperor's  interest,  was 
a  singular  one  for  an  Italian  bom  in  sunny  Sienna,  and 
whose  life  had  been  passed  in  journeys,  councils,  and 
MntM  in  courts.  It  was  the  parochial  cure  of  a  retired 
Hoij  orden.  y^Uey  in  the  Tyrol.  It  was  worth  sixty  gold 
pieces  a  year.  It  was  accessible  only  up  one  wild  glen, 
covered  with  snow  and  ice  three  parts  of  the  year. 
The  peasants  during  the  long  winter  were  confined 
to  their  cottages,  made  boxes  and  other  carpenter's 
work  (like  the  Swiss  of  Meyringen  and  elsewhere), 
which  they  sold,  at  Trent  and  Botzen.  They  passed 
much  time  in  playing  at  chess  and  dice,  in  which  they 
were  wonderfully  skilful.  They  were  a  simple  people, 
knew  nothing  of  war  or  glory  or  gold.  Cattle  was 
their  only  wealth,  which  they  fed  with  hay  in  the  win- 
ter. Some  of  them  had  never  tasted  any  liquor  but 
milk.     Some  lived  a  great  way  from  the  church:  if 

1  Jam  ego  subdiaconus  sum,  quod  olim  valde  horrebam.  Sed  recessit  a 
me  ilia  animi  levitas,  quae  inter  laicos  crescere  solebat.  Jamque  nihil 
magis  amo  quam  8acerdotium.  Epist.  xciii.  This  letter  is  in  unfortunate 
juxtaposition  with  the  one  (Epist.  xcii.)  in  which  he  gives  so  much  good 
advice  to  his  friend,  makes  such  iiill  confession  of  his  own  former  frailtieB, 
with  the  resolution  to  abandon  Venus  for  Bacchus.    See  above. 


Chap.XYI.  iEKEAS  AS  A  PABISH  PRIEST.  85 

they  died  their  bodies  were  laid  out  and  became  frozen. 
In  the  spring  the  curate  went  round,  collected  them  in- 
to one  procession,  and  buried  them  altogether  in  the 
church-yard.  There  was  not  much  sorrow  >at  their  fii- 
nerals.  ^neas  does  not  flatter  the  morality  of  his  pa- 
rishioners (he  did  not  do  much  to  correct  it).  They 
would  have  been  the  happiest  of  mankind  had  they 
known  their  blessings  and  imposed  restraint  on  their 
lusts.  As  it  was,  huddled  together  night  and  day  in 
their  cottages,  they  lived  in  promiscuous  concubinage : 
a  virgin  bride  was  unknown,  .tineas  had  some  difH- 
culty  (every  one  seems  to  have  had  difficulty  where 
the  rights  of  patrons- were  in  perpetual  conflict,  and  the 
Pope  and  the  Council  claimed  everything)  in  obtaining 
possession  of  his  benefice.  Small  as  was  its  income, 
with  his  canonry  it  furnished  a  modest  competency,  two 
hundred  ducats  a  year,  with  which  he  was  fully  con- 
tent. He  was  anxious  to  retire  from  the  turbulent 
world ;  to  secure,  as  he  had  passed  the  meridian  of  life, 
a  peaceful  retreat  where  he  might  serve  God.^  We 
read  in  the  next  sentence  in  his  Commentaries  that  he 
had  given  up  his  happy  valley  for  a  better  benefice  in 
Bavaria,  that  of  Santa  Maria  of  Auspac,  not  far  from 
the  Inn,  which  was  given  him  by  the  Bishop  of  Passau.  y 

As  yet  we  do  not  see  (when  shall  we  see  ?)  much 
indulgence  of  this  unworldly  disposition :  in  this  respect 
it  is  impossible  to  deny  the  rigid  self-denial  of  ^neas. 
In  a  letter  to  Graspar  Schlick,  the  Chancellor,  the  Ital- 
ian opens  his  whole  mind.  He  does  not  attempt  to 
conceal  his  own  falsehood ;  he  justifies  it  as  of  neces- 
gity.    "Where  all  are  false  we  must  be  false  too;  we 

1  Yellem  aliquando  me  sequeatrare  ab  hojos  mondi  tarbtnibas,  Deoqne 
senrire  et  mihi  vivere.    £pt8t.  liv.    It  was  the  Sarontana  vallis  ? 


86  LATIN  CHBISTIANnT.  BookXHI. 

must  take  men  as  they  are."  He  adduces  as  authority 
for  this  insincerity  (I  hardly  venture  to  record  this) 
what  he  dares  to  call  a  departure  from  truth  in  Him 
that  was  all  truth. ^  This  letter  embraces  the  whole 
comprehensive  and  complicated  range  of  Imperial  poli- 
tics, Austria,  Bohemia,  Hungary.  In  the  great  ques- 
tion .tineas  has  become  a  stem  neutralist.  The  plan 
proposed  by  Charles  of  France,  at  the  close  of  1448, 
to  compel  the  Council  and  the  Pope  to  union,  now  ap- 
pears the  wisest  as  well  as  the  most  feasible  measure. 
*^  Let  the  temporal  Sovereigns  hold  their  Congress, 
even  against  the  will  of  the  Clergy,  union  will  ensue. 
He  will  be  the  undoubted  Pope,  to  whom  all  the 
Sovereigns  render  obedience.  I  see  none  of  the  Clergy 
who  will  suffer  martyrdom  in  either  cause.  We  have 
all  the  same  faith  with  our  rulers ;  if  they  worshipped 
idols  we  should  likewise  worship  them.  If  the  secular 
power  should  urge  it,  we  should  deny  not  only  the 
Pope  but  Christ  himself.  Charity  is  cold,  faith  is  dead : 
we  all  long  for  peace :  whether  through  another  Coun- 
cil or  a  Congress  of  Princes  I  care  not."  ^ 

In  the  Diet  of  Nuremberg  nothing  was  done  in  the 
A.S.1444.  momentous  af&ir.  Germany  and  Frederick 
III.  maintained  their  cold  neutraUty.  ^neas  had  sunk 
to  absolute  indifference.  Another  letter  to  the  Pope's 
Orator  Carvajal  is  in  a  lighter  tone :  ^^  Tou  and  I  may 
discuss  such  matters,  not  as  angry  theologians,  but  as 
calm  philosophers.  I  am  content  to  leave  such  things 
to  divines,  and  to  think  as  other  people  think."     He 


I  Sed  fingendam  etft,  poetqnua  omnes  fingunt.  Nam  et  Jesus  finxit  se 
longius  ire.  Ut  homines  sunt  ita  ntamnr.  iEneas  should  have  stuck  to 
his  Terence.  —  liv.  p.  539. 

*  Epist.  Uy. 


Chap.XYI.       change  m  FAVOR  OF  EUGENIUS.  87 

does  not  speak  with  much  respect  of  the  Diet.    ^^  What 
has  it  done  ?  —  it  has  summoned  another.     You  know 
my  saying :  ^  No  Diet  is  barren  :  this  will  be  Oct.  14m. 
as  prolific  as  the  rest :  it  has  another  in  its  womb.'  "  ^ 

But  the  tide  now  turned.     Alfonso  II.,  King  of  Ar- 
ragon,  his  most  obstinate  and  dangerous  ene-  chuig*  in 
my,  made  peace  with  Eugenius.     Philippo  Bugeniui. 
Maria,  Duke  of  Milan,  made   peace  with  Eugenius: 
all  Italy  acknowledged  Eugenius.     The  Italian  JEneas 
had  no  notionX)f  condemning  himself  to  perpetual,  if  hon* 
orable,  exile  in  cold,  rude  Germany.     The  churchman 
would  not  sever  Christendom  from  Rome,  or  allow  an 
Ultramontane  Papacy  to  proclaim  its  independence,  if 
not  its  superiority.     Yet  beyond  the  Alps  to  less  keen 
eyes  never  might  the  cause  of  Eugenius  appear  more 
desperate.     The  Council,  in  its  proclamations  at  least, 
maintained   its   inflexible  resolution.      Writings  were 
promulgated   throughout    Germany,  among    others   a 
strong  manifesto  from  the  University  of  Erfurt,  calling 
on  the  German  nation  to  throw  off  its  inglorious  neu- 
trality, and  at  once  to  espouse  the  cause  of  religious 
freedom  and  the  Council  of  Basle.     The  vio-  ^  ^^  i^^ 
lent  act  of  Eugenius  in  threatening  to  depose  Se^^w^!^ 
the  Archbishops  of  Cologne  and  Treves  had  ^^^'  *'  ^*^' 
awakened  the  fears  and  the  resentment  of  many  among 
the  haughty  Prelates  of  Germany,  and  had  excited 
high  indignation  in  the  German  mind.     But  JBneas 
knew  his  own  strength,  and  the  weakness  of  the  Em- 
peror.    Frederick  determined,  or  rather  imagined  that 
he  acted  on  his  own  determination,  to  enter  into  nego- 
tiations.    And  now  again  who  so  fit  1X)  condu(*t  those 
negotiations   as   his  faithful    Secretary  ?    who   but   an 

1  Epist.  Izxii.    Compare  ^neas  Sylvius  (Fea),  p.  84. 


88  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XOL 

Italian,  so  intimately  acquainted  with  the  interests  of 
Germany,  so  attached  to  the  Emperor,  so  able,  so  elo- 
quent, could  cope  with  the  Prelates  and  Cardinals  of 
Rome  ?  ^  .^Sneas  was  more  true  to  his  Imperial  than 
he  had  been  to  his  Papal  patron  ;  being  true  to  the 
Emperor  he  was  true  to  himself. 

^neas  arrived  at  his  native  Sienna.  His  kindred, 
sneu  iu  proud  uo  doubt  of  his  position,  crowded  round 
^*^'  him.     They  entreated   him  not  to  venture 

to  Rome.  Eugenius  was  cruel,  unforgetful  of  injuries, 
bound  by  neither  pity  nor  conscience.^  A  man  so 
deeply  committed  in  the  affairs  of  the  hostile  Council 
might  expect  the  woi'st.  JBneas  boldly  answered  that 
the  ambassador  of  the  Emperor  of  Germany  must  be 
safe  everywhere.  He  did  not  betray  a  more  important 
secret,  that  already  he  had  obtained  through  two 
friendly  Cardinals,  Carvajal  and  Landriano,  pardcm  for 
all  that  he  had  done  at  Basle. 

He  entered  Rome :  he  was  admitted  to  the  presence  of 
At  Rome.  the  Popc,  bosido  whom  stood  the  two  friendly 
Cardinals.  He  was  permitted  to  kiss  the  foot,  the 
cheek  of  the  Pontiff.  His  credentials  were  in  his  hand. 
He  was  commanded  to  declare  the  object  of  his  mis- 
sion. "  Ere  I  fulfil  the  orders  of  the  Emperor,  allow 
me,  most  holy  Pontiff,  a  few  words  on  myself.  I  know 
that  many  things  have  been  brought  to  the  ears  of  your 
Holiness  concerning  me,  things  not  to  my  credit,  and 
on  which  it  were  better  not  to  dwell :  neither  have  my 
accusers  spoken  falsely.    At  Basle  I  have  written  much, 

1  To  this  visit  to  Rome  belong  the  observations  he  makes  in  a  letter  to 
his  patron  the  Bishop  of  Passau.  Epist  xcviii.  The  Cardinals,  he  sajs, 
are  by  no  means  so  rich  as  of  old. 

>  Aiebant  Eugenium  crudelem,  injoriarum  memorem,  nall&  pietate,  nuUft 
&on8cienti&  teneri.  —  Apad  Fea,  p.  88. 


G&4r.XVL  ^  JSNEAS  AT  ROME.  89 

spoken  much,  done  mnch ;  but  my  design  was  not  to 
injure  you,  I  sought  only  the  advantage  of  the  Catholic 
Church.  I  have  erred,  who  will  deny  it,  but  with 
neither  few  nor  undistinguished  men :  Julian,  the  Car- 
dinal of  St.  Angelo,  the  Archbishop  of  Palermo,  Pon- 
tanus  the  Prothonotary  of  your  Court,  men  esteemed  in 
the  eyes  of  the  law,  masters  of  all  truth.  I  speak  not 
of  the  Universities  and  Schools  throughout  the  world, 
almost  all  adverse  to  your  cause.  With  such  authorities 
who  had  not  erred  ?  I  must  confess,  that  so  soon  as  I 
detected  the  errors  of  those  at  Basle,  I  did  not,  as  most 
others  did,  fly  to  you.  But  fearing  to  fall  from  error  to 
error,  from  Scylla  to  Charybdis,  I  would  not,  without 
consultation  and  delay,  rush  from  one  extreme  to  the 
other.  I  sided  with  those  called  neutrals.  I  remained 
three  years  with  the  Emperor,  heard  the  discussions 
between  your  Legates  and  those  of  Basle,  nor  could 
longer  doubt  that  the  truth  was  on  your  side ;  not  un- 
willingly ttherefore  I  accepted  this  embassy  from  the 
Emperor,  hoping  thereby,  through  your  clemency,  to 
be  restored  to  your  favor.  I  am  in  your  hands :  I 
have  sinned  in  ignorance,  I  implore  pardon.  And  now 
to  the  afiairs  of  the  Emperor."  ^  The  Pope,  no  doubt 
well  prepared  for  this  address,  had  his  answer  ready. 
The  Ambassador  of  the  Emperor,  a  man  of  the  ability 
and  importance  of  ^neas,  was  not  to  be  repelled  even 
by  the  stubborn  Eugenius.  "  We  know  that  you  have 
erred,  with  many  others ;  we  cannot  deny  pardon  to 
one  who  confesses  his  errors.  Our  holy  Mother,  the 
Church,  withholds  mercy  from  those  only  who  refrise  to 
acknowledge  their  sins.     You  are  now  in  possession  of 

1  Commentar.  Nov.  p.  11. 


90  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIIL 

the  truth,  look  that  you  do  not  ahandon  it.  Show 
forth  the  divine  grace  in  your  good  works.  You  are 
in  a  position  to  defend  the  truth,  to  do  good  service  to 
the  Church.  We  shall  forget  all  the  wrolgs  commit- 
ted against  us ;  him  that  walketh  uprightly  we  shall 
love !  "  Of  the  Cardinals,  only  the  virtuous  Thomas 
of  Sarzana,  afterwards  Nicolas  V.,  looked  coldly  on  the 
renegade,  and  JBneas  as  haughtily  refused  to  humiliate 
himself.  "  O  ignorance  of  man,"  writes  ^neas,  "  had 
I  known  that  he  would  be  Pope,  what  would  I  not 
have  borne  !  "  ^  But  JBneas  fell  ill,  and  Thomas  of 
Sarzana  sent  a  common  friend  to  console  him,  and  to 
offer  aid  for  the  payment  of  his  physicians.  John  Car- 
vajal,  the  Pope's  Legate  in  Germany,  visited  him  every 
day.  He  recovered,  returned  to  Sienna,  saw  his  father 
for  the  last  time,  and  went  back  to  Gennany.  He  was 
followed  by  a  message  from  the  Pope,  appointing  him 
his  Secretary,  "  Wonderful  and  unparalleled  grace  <if 
God  "  (so  writes  his  biographer,  probably  JEneas  him- 
self) "  that  one  man  should  be  Secretary  to  two 
Popes  "  (he  was  continued  in  the  office  by  Nicolas  V.), 
"  to  an  Emperor  and  an  Antipope."  ^  iCneas  humbly 
ascribes  the  glory  to  God,  as  if  his  own  craft  and  ter- 
giversations had  no  share  in  the  marvel. 

Germany  began  slowly  to  feel  and  to  betray  the  in- 
fluence of  the  wily  Italian.     He  ruled  the  irresolute 

1  Si  scisset  Mneas  futunim  Papam,  omnia  tolerikaset    Fea,  p.  89. 

*  So  too  in  Epist.  clzxxviii.  p.  760.  Apud  tres  Episcopos  et  totidem 
Cardinales  dictandarum  Epistolarum  ofificium  exercui.  Hi  tres  qnoque 
Pontificefl  maximi  secretariorum  coUegio  me  ascripsenint,  Eugenius,  Nioo- 
laus,  Felix,  quamvis  hunc  adaltemm  dixerit  Apud  Ccesarem  non  8ecr&- 
tarius  modo,  sed  consiliarius  et  principatus  honore  auctus  sum.  Neqae 
ego  ista  fortunae  imputo,  quamvis  nescio  causam,  sed  ipsius  rectori  et  do- 
minatori  omnium  Deo.    Thus  writes  jEneas  in  his  own  person. 


Chap.  XVI.Va^Y^EAGUE  OF  THE  ELECTORS.  91 

Emperor.^^  Yet  even  now  afiairs  looked  only  more 
menacing  and  dangerous  to  Pope  Eugenius.  After 
due  deliberation  he  had  peremptorily  refused  the  Em- 
peror's demand  to  convoke  another  Council  in  Ger- 
many. Not  only  were  the  two  Archbishop  Electors 
under  sentence  of  deposition,  new  Electors'  had  been 
named  on  his  sole  authority ;  not  even  Germans,  but 
near  relatives  of  the  powerful  Philip  of  Burgundy, 
sworn  to  place  them  on  their  thrones.  Six  of  the 
Electors  entered  into  a  solemn  Leacme,  that  Fnnkihrt, 
if  Eugenius  did  not  immediately  annul  his  a.d.  1446.' 
bull  of  deposal  against  the  Archbishops,  limit  the 
ecclesiastical  burdens  on  the  Empire,  and  submit  to 
the  decree  of  Constance,  which  asserted  the  supremacy 
of  Greneral  Councils,  they  would  cast  aside  their  long 
neutrality,  and  either  summon  a  new  Council  or  ac- 
knowledge the  Council  of  Basle  and  Pope  Felix  V.* 
They  sent  an  embassy  to  communicate  this  secret  cov- 
enant to  the  Emperor  and  to  six  only  of  his  Privy 
Councillors,  and  to  demand  his  adhesion  to  the  League. 
The  Emperor  admitted  the  justice  of  their  demands 
as  to  the  rehabilitation  of  the  deposed  Prelates,  but 
reftised  to  join  the  League,  '^  it  was  impious  to  com- 
pel the  Pope  to  terms  by  threatening  to  revolt  from 
his  authority.*'  *  The  Emperor,  not  sworn  to  secrecy, 
confided  the  whole  to  w£neas,  by  him  at  his  discretion 
to  be  communicated  to  Rome,      ^neas  was   ordered 

1  There  were  negotiations,  perhaps  a  private  treaty,  between  King  Fred- 
erick and  Engene.    Canrajal  was  at  Vienna.  —  Voigt,  c.  6. 

^  They  were  Bishop  John  of  Carabray,  Philip's  natoral  brother,  to 
I'reres;  to  Cologne,  Prince  Adolph  of  Cleves,  his  sister's  son.  Schmidt,  vii. 
18,p.S3S. 

«  Apod  Goden.  iv.  290;  Schmidt,  p.  8d9. 

^  There  is  some  slight  discrepancy  here  between  the  Commentaries  and 
She  history. 


92  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  Xffl 

again  to  Rome  to  persuade  the  Pope  to  cede  the  resti- 
tution of  the  Archbishops. 

He  went  round  it  seems  by  Frankfort,  where  the 
Electors  held  or  were  about  to  hold  their  diet.  At 
Frankfort  he  found,  perhaps  it  was  his  object  there, 
the  Papal  Legates,  Thomas  of  Sarzana  (Bishop  of 
Bologna),  and  John  Carvajal.  They  were  in  dire 
perplexity.  One  must  hasten  to  Rome  for  further 
insti*uctions,  Carvajal  was  ill,  JBneas  set  off  in  the 
company  of  Thomas  of  Sarzana.  It  was  spring,  the 
bridges  were  broken  down.  They  crossed  the  Alps 
in  three  days  by  paths  only  known  to  mountain  guides 
over  precipices  and  glaciers. 

At  Rome  the  Pope  took  the  counsel  of  Thomas  of 
Sarzana.  Before  he  admitted  the  Ambassadors  of  the 
Electors,  he  had  a  private  interview  with  ^neas  Syl- 
vius, ^neas  at  his  last  visit  had  brought  himself,  he 
now  brought  the  Emperor  to  the  feet  of  Eugenius. 
The  only  concession  urged  on  the  Pope  was  the  revo- 
cation of  the  &tal  step,  and  the  restoration  of  the 
deposed  Electors.  The  Emperor  could  not  endure 
French  Electors.  For  once  the  obstinate  Eugenius 
bowed  himself  to  the  wiser  yielding  policy;  ^neas 
had  imparted  his  own  pliancy  to  the  Pope.  There 
was  but  one  difficulty,  how  to  appease  Philip  Duke  of 
Burgundy,  who  might  resent  the  dismissal  of  his  kin- 
dred, his  nephew  and  natural  brother,  the  intruded 
Archbishops  of  Cologne  and  Treves.  The  Papalists 
had  tempted,  flattered,  bribed  the  pride  and  ambition 
of  one  of  the  proudest  and  most  ambitious  of  men ; 
they  must  allay  that  pride  and  ambition.  Thomas 
of  Sarzana  was  intrusted  with  this  delicate  mission: 
^neas   was  to   return   to   Germany,  to  manage  the 


Chap.  XVI.  GREGORY  OF  HEIMBURG.  93 

Emperor  and  the  Empire.  The  Pope  then  admitted 
the  Ambassadors  of  the  six  Electors.  At  the  head  of 
these  was  Gregory  of  Heimbm*g,  a  bold,  free-spoken, 
fearless  man,  the  most  learned  lawyer  in  the  Empire, 
but  described  by  Sylvius  as  of  coarse  manners ;  a  gen- 
uine German  of  his  age  unfavorably  contrasted  in  his 
own  judgment  with  the  supple  Siennese.  Heimburg^s 
address  to  the  Pope  was  intrepid,  haughty  :  "  Germany 
was  united ;  it  was  imbittered  by  the  deposition  of  the 
Bishops  —  the  Princes  were  resolved  to  assert  the  au- 
thority of  General  Councils."  The  Pope's  answer  was 
cold  and  brief.  He  had  deposed  the  Archbishops  for 
good  reasons :  he  had  never  shown  disrespect  to  Coun- 
cils, but  had  maintained  the  dignity  of  the  Apostolic 
See.  He  would  prepare  a  written  reply.  He  detained 
them  in  Rome  in  sullen  indignation  at  their  delay  in 
the  hot  ungenial  city.^ 

^neas  set  forth  on  his  return  with  Thomas  of  Sar- 
zana.  They  travelled  together,  though  ^neas  was 
suffering  from  the  stone,  by  Sienna,  Pistoia,  Lucca, 
^neas  entered  Florence,  the  Bishop  of  Bologna  was 
not  allowed  to  do  so.  ^neas  was  obliged  to  leave 
the  Bishop  ill  at  Parma.     He  hastened  by  Mantua, 

^Hic  orationem  arrogantis  plenam  habuit;  dixit  Germanise  principes 
naitoa  esse  eadem  velle  et  sapere,  depositionem  Episcoporiim  amarulento 
tnlisse  animo,  petere  at  cassetur  annnlletarqae,  at  aactoritas  conciliorum 
approbetor,  ut  nationi  opportune  ooncedator.  ....  Eugenios  ad  hsec  suo 
more  pauca  et  graviter  respondit.  Hist.  Freder.  III.  apud  Kollar.  p.  128. 
See  the  corioos  accooat  of  Gregoiy's  behavior.  Interea  legati  Electorum 
affecti  tcdio  murmurabant,  neque  sine  timore  fuerunt  quod  nimis  rigid^  se 
looutos  sentiebant.  Gregorius  joxta  Montem  Jordan um  post  vesperas 
deambalare,  caloribas  exKStoans,  qaasi  et  Roroanos  et  officium  suom  con- 
temneret,  diinissis  in  terram  caligis,  aperto  pectore,  nndo  capite,  brachia 
disoperiens,  fastibandus  incedebat,  Romanosqae  et  Eagenium  et  Curiam 
blasphemabat,  maltaqae  in  calores  terrsB  ingerebat  mala.  Est  enim  aSr 
Bomanas  Theatonicis  infestissimus  .  .  .  qaia  plos  sanguinis  habent  qaam 
Ualid,  et  plus  mernm  ebibont,  plus  calore  cmciantar.    Ibid.  124. 


94  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  Xffl. 

Verona,  Trent,  Memmingen,  Ulm.*  At  Ulm  he  was 
stopped  by  fear  of  robbers,  who  infested  the  whole  road 
to  Frankfort.  He  fell  in  with  the  Bishops  of  Augsburg 
and  Chiemsee,  and  the  Chancellor  Gaspar  ;  with  them 
he  reached  Frankfort  in  safety. 

At  Frankfort  the  Diet  had  met  in  imposing  fulness. 
Sept.  1, 1446.  The  Emperor  was  represented  by  the  Chan- 
Fnukfort.  coUor,  the  Bishops  of  Augsburg  and  Chiem- 
see, the  Marquises  of  Baden  and  Brandenburg,  and  by 
^neas  Sylvius.  The  Electors  were  all  present.  The 
Pope's  Legates  were  John  de  Carvajal  and  Nicolas  de 
Cusa.  Thomas  of  Sarzana  did  not  arrive  till  he  had 
successfully  fulfilled  his  mission  to  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy. Louis,  Cardinal  of  Aries,  John  de  Lysura  and 
others  appeared  for  the  Council  of  Basle  and  the  Anti- 
pope.  Louis  of  Aries  claimed  to  have  the  cross  borne 
before  him,  and  to  celebrate  the  first  mass  before  the 
Diet  as  Papal  Legate.  His  claim  was  supported  by  the 
Electors,  fully  determined  to  maintain  the  rights  of  the 
Council.  The  Emperor's  Ambassadors  remonstrated ; 
Germany  was  yet  pledged  to  strict  neutrality.  The 
citizens  of  Frankfort  were  on  that  side ;  they  had 
sworn  allegiance  to  the  Emperor,  not  to  the  Electors ; 
the  Cardinal  of  Aries  was  forced  ungraciously  to  sub- 
mit. 

The  session  was  opened  by  Gregory  of  Heimburg, 
Aitereftiioii.  ^who  reported  the  reception  of  his  mission  at 
Rome.  He  described  the  Court  of  Rome  as  implaca- 
bly hostile  to  Germany ;  Eugenius  as  harsii,  haughty, 
repulsive.  The  Cardinals  he  turned  into  ridicule,  es« 
pecially  ^^  the  bearded  old  goat,"  the  Cardinal  Bessa- 
rion.     ^neas  replied,  rebuking  the  unfairness  of  the 

>  Comment.  94.    Compared  with  other  docnmentB. 


Chap.  XVI.    DANGER  AND  CONDUCT  OF  .fiNEAS.  95 

German,  and  laboring  to  bring  out  the  milder  and 
more  courteous  points  in  the  demeanor  and  language 
of  the  Pope,  ^neas  had  to  encounter  some  unpleas- 
ant altercation.  The  Cardinal  of  Aries  reproached 
him  with  his  tergiversations.  ^'  It  is  not  I,"  answered 
^neas,  ^*  who  have  changed,  but  the  Council ;  they 
once  offered  to  remove  the  Council  from  Basle,  now 
they  refuse  ;  as  if  all  truth  were  contained  within  the 
walls  of  Basle."  John  de  Lysura  was  even  more 
pointed  and  personal.  '^  Are  you  come  from  Sienna 
to  legislate  for  Germany  ?  You  had  better  have  stayed 
at  home  and  left  us  to  settle  our  own  affiiirs."  ^neas 
kept  prudent  silence. 

The  reports  from  Rome  had  made  a  deep  and  unfa- 
vorable impression.  Basle  appeared  to  tri- Banger  and 
umph ;  the  Electors  seemed  determined  to  JSnewa. 
declare  for  the  Council  and  for  Felix  Y.  But  the 
resources  of  ^neas  were  not  exhausted ;  he  boldly 
summoned  to  his  aid  two  irresistible  allies  —  in  plain  • 
language,  bribery,  and  forgery.  All  things,  iElneas  had 
said  in  his  Antipapal  days,  are  venal  with  the  Court 
of  Rome ;  the  imposition  of  hands,  the  gifts  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  are  openly  sold.^  Rome  could  buy  as  well 
as  sell ;  and  the  severe  virtue  of  Germany  was  not 
proof  against  pontifical  gold.  No  less  a  person  than 
the  Archbishop  of  Mentz  sold  himself  to  Eugenius: 
meaner  men  could  not  hesitate  with  such  an  example. 
The  Archbishop  did  not  actually  take  the  money  with 
his  own  hands,  but  two  thousand  Rhenish  florins  were 
distributed  among  his  four  chief  Counsellors.^ 

1  Nihil  eft  qaod  absque  argento  Romana  Curia  dedit.  Nam  et  ipsas 
nanoB  impositioues,  et  Spiritiis  Sancti  dona  venundantur.    Epist  Ixvi. 

3  Camqne  res  din  inutiliter  tractaretur,  ad  pecuniam  tandem  recurrere 
oportet.  cui  nuw  non  obaadiunt  aures,  hsc  domina  curiarum  est  heec  aures 


96  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  Xm. 

But  the  Archbishop  Elector  would  maintain  decency. 
He  could  not  veer  round  without  some  specious  excuse. 
MnesLS  boldly  took  in  hand  the  Ambassadors'  instruc* 
Btibeiyand  tious ;  he  drosscd  them  up,  quietly  discard- 
tofgory-  Jug  every  hard  or  offensive  word,,  insinuating 
milder  and  more  conciliatory  expressions  ;  and  with  de- 
liberate effrontery  presented  these  notes,  as  authorized 
by  Pope  Eugenius.^  He  ran  the  risk  of  being  dis- 
claimed by  the  stubborn  Pontiff^,  and  exposed  as  the 
Forger  of  official  documents.  The  notes  declared  the 
assent  of  the  Pope  to  the  restoration  of  the  deposed 
Archbishops,  vaguely  recognized  the  independence  of 
the  German  nation,  saved  the  authority  of  General 
Councils,  ^neas  had  calculated  with  his  usual  sagac- 
ity. These  notes  were  accepted,  and  presented  to  the 
Diet,  signed  by  the  Elector  of  Mentz,  the  Marquis  of 
Brandenburg,  the  Grand  Master  of  Prussia,  the  Arch- 
bishops of  Saltzburg  and  Magdeburg,  and  many  other 
Princes.  The  Elector  of  Treves  and  the  Duke  of 
Saxony  alone  opposed ;  the  Elector  Palatine  wavered. 
The  Electoral  League  was  paralyzed,  a  new  League 
formed  between  the  Emperor,  the  Electors  of  Mentz, 
Brandenburg,  and  the  rest.  The  Diet  broke  up,  the 
three  Electors  departed  in  indignation ;  the  Ambassa- 
dors of  Basle  in  sorrow  and  discomfiture. 

onmium  aperit:  huic  omnia  servluiit:  hsc  qnoque  Moguniinum  expugnavU. 
These  are  the  words  of  iEneas  Sylvias  himself  in  his  Hist  Frederic.  III. 
published  by  KoUar,  vol.  ii.  p.  127.  The  Emperor  advanced  the  money ; 
it  was  afterwards  paid  by  Nicolas  Y.    Compare  also  Fea,  p.  100. 

1  Com  Legati  Csesaris  non  possent  menti  Pontificis  satisfacere,  iEneas 
modnm  commentas  est,  qni,  recepds  notulis,  secundum  quas  se  Principes 
obligaverant,  nisi  Eugenius  illas  admitteret  velle  se  eum  deserere,  omne 
venenum  ex  eis  ademit,  novatque  notuloi  compcmdt,  per  quas  et  Archiepis- 
oopi  deprivati  restituerentur,  et  nationi  opportune  provideretur  et  auctoritas 
Conciliorum  salvaretor,  illasque  dixit  sua  opinione  Eugenium  non  negata- 
mm.  —  y it.  Fred.  III.  p.  12ft. 


Chap.  XYl.  ^NEAS  BISHOP.  97 

wSlneas  and  Procopius  Rabensteyn,  a  Bohemian  No- 
ble, were  despatched  to  Rome  as  Imperial  Ambassa- 
dors to  obtain  the  Pope's  assent  to  the  terms  thus 
framed.  On  his  assent  the  Emperor  and  most  of  the 
German  Princes  would  forswear  their  neutrality  and 
acknowledge  him  for  Pope.  Letters  had  been  previ- 
ously sent ;  the  College  of  Cardinals  was  divided ;  the 
more  rigid  theologians  would  admit  no  concession. 
Pope  Eugenius  was  advised  to  create  four  new  Cardi- 
nals, the  Archbishop  of  Milan,  the  Abbot  of  St.  Paul, 
Thomas  of  Sarzana  Bishop  of  Bologna,  John  Carva- 
jal.  At  Sienna  the  Imperial  Ambassadors  encountered 
others  from  the  Archbishop  of  Mentz  and  the  German 
Princes.  The  representative  of  Mentz  was  no  less 
than  John  of  Lysura,  but  a  few  days  before  so  stem  a 
Basilian,  who  had  been  so  offended  by  the  apostasy  of 
j£neas,  and  had  now  trimmed  his  sails  to  the  wind. 

They  were  received  with  joyous  welcome  as  bring- 
ing the  submission  of  Germany  to  the  Papal  See.^ 
The  third  day  they  were  introduced  into  the  private 
consistory,  ^neas  spoke  ;  all  heard  with  rapture.  No 
voice  was  silent  in  his  praise !  That  very  day  the  Pope 
was  seized  with  mortal  sickness.  The  physicians  said 
that  he  could  not  live  ten  days.  Would  he  live  long 
enough  to  ratify  the  Treaty  ?  The  Ambassadors  were 
only  commissioned  to  Eugenius  :  delay  might  be  fatal, 
a  new  schism  might  arise.  "  If"  (said  John  of  Lysura) 
"  the  little  toe  of  his  left  foot  is  aUve,  it  is  enough." 
The  Pope  not  only  lived  to  issue  the  Apostolic  Bulls, 
but  to  reward  the  invaluable  services  of  iBneas  Sylvius. 
A  vacancy  in  the  Bishopric  of  Trieste  was  announced, 

1  Erat  enim  ingens  gaudium  prope  sexdecim  annoA  Gtormaniam  perditam 
Tocnper&sse.    Fea,  p.  105. 

VOL.  vni.  7 


98  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIH. 

the  Pope  at  once  appointed  ^neas  to  the  See.  The 
¥eb.  28,  rejoicings  at  Rome  were  Hke  those  at  a  great 
1447.  victory,  bonfires  blazed,  the  city  was  illumi- 

nated, the  noise  of  trumpets,  the  pealing  of  bells  rang 
through  the  streets.  After  fourteen  days  died  Pope 
Eugenius  ;  his  stubborn  pertinacity  might  seem  to  have 
won  a  glorious  triumph  :  he  had  deluded  the  Germans 
by  some  specious  concessions,  of  which  he  himself  well 
knew  the  hollow  value  (the  Apostolic  Bulls  were  called 
Concordats)  ;  he  had  almost  reconquered  the  allegiance 
of  Christendom.  But  he  is  said  to  have  exclaimed  on 
his  death-bed,  "  Oh  Gabriel,  better  had  it  been  for  your 
soul,  if  you  had  never  been  Cardinal,  never  Pope,  but 
continued  to  practise  the  religious  discipline  of  your 
monastery!"^  The  Pope  was  dead,  the  Monk  still 
lived. 

^  Palatii  Gesta  Pontificmn  apud  Weissenberg,  p.  465.  The  character  of 
Eagenicu  changes  in  the  writings  of  ^neas  with  the  changes  in  iEneaa 
himself.  We  have  seen  some  illustrations  of  this.  In  the  Hist  Condi. 
Basil.  '*  Eugenius  is  a  reed  shaken  by  the  wind  "  (no  very  apt  similitude), 
an  object  of  dislike,  even  of  contempt  In  his  Dialogue  de  Auctor.  Con- 
cilii,  alluded  to  in  his  Retractation,  his  praise  of  Felix  passes  into  adulation. 
There  is  no  grace  or  virtue  which  is  not  heaped  upon  him.  In  Eugenius 
the  defiaiiCe  darkens  into  vituperation:  "Yexator  ecclesisB,  non  solum 
lande  indignus,  sed  detestatione  et  execratione  totius  humani  generis  dig- 
DUB  proculdubio  est.*'  So  says  one  of  the  interlocutors,  unrebuked  by 
^neas.  Compare  on  the  other  side  the  high  character  of  the  de  Europa, 
p.  458.  So  too  in  Tit.  Frederic.  III.  p.  135.  Fuit  autem  Eugenius  alti  ani- 
mi,  injiiriarum  tenax,  delatoribus  aurem  praebuit,  avaritiam  calcavit,  hono- 
ris cupidus  fuit:  ubi  sententiam  imbuit,  non  facile  mutari  potuit:  religiosia 
viris  adraodum  favit  In  another  passage  —  alti  cordis  fuit,  sed  nullum 
in  eo  vitium  fuit,  nisi  quia  sine  raensurft  erat,  et  non  quod  potuit,  sed  quod 
yoluit,  aggressus  est  This  heightens  our  opinion  of  the  boldness  and  sa- 
gacity of  ^neas  in  persuading  such  a  man  to  accept  as  his  own,  instruc- 
tioQS  which  he  had  not  given. 


Chap  XVIL  NICOLAS  ¥•  99 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

NICOLAS  V. 

The  Pontificate  of  Nicolas  V.  is  the  culminating 
point  of  Latin  Christianity.  The  Papal  power  indeed 
had  long  reached  its  zenith.  From  Innocent  III.  to 
Boniface  YIII.  it  had  begun  its  decline.  But  Latin 
Christianity  was  alike  the  religion  of  the  Popes  and  of 
the  Councils  which  contested  their  supremacy.  It  was 
as  yet  no  more  than  a  sacerdotal  strife  whether  the 
Pope  should  maintain  an  irresponsible  autocracy,  or  be 
limited  and  controlled  by  an  ubiquitous  aristocratic 
Senate.  The  most  ardent  reformers  looked  no  further 
than  to  strengthen  the  Hierarchy.  The  Prelates  were 
determined  to  emancipate  themselves  from  the  usurpa- 
tions of  the  Pope,  as  to  their  elections,  their  arbitrary 
taxation  by  Rome,  the  undermining  of  their  authority 
by  perpetual  appeals ;  but  they  had  no  notion  of  relax- 
ing in  the  least  the  ecclesiastical  domination.  It  was 
not  that  Christendom  might  govern  itself,  but  that 
themselves  might  have  a  more  equal  share  in  the  gov- 
ernment. They  were  as  jealously  attached  as  the  Pope 
to  the  creed  of  Latin  Christianity.  The  Council,  not 
the  Pope,  burned  John  Huss.  Their  concessions  to  the 
Bohemians  were  extorted  from  their  fears,  not  granted 
by  their  liberality.  (Person,  D'Ailly,  Louis  of  Aries, 
Thomas  of  Corcelles,  were  as  rigid  theologians  as  Mar- 


100  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIH. 

tin  V.  or  Eugenius  IV.  The  Vulgate  was  their  Bible, 
the  Latin  service  their  exclusive  liturgy,  the  Canon 
Law  their  code  of  jurisprudence. 

Latin  Christianity  had  yet  to  discharge  some  part  of 
its  mission.  It  had  to  enlighten  the  world  with  letters, 
to  adorn  it  with  arts.  It  had  hospitably  to  receive  (a 
gift  fatal  in  the  end  to  its  own  dominion)  and  to  pro- 
mulgate to  mankind  the  poets,  historians,  philosophers 
of  Greece.  It  had  to  break  down  its  own  idols,  the 
Schoolmen,  and  substitute  a  new  idolatry,  that  of  Clas- 
sical Literature.  It  had  to  perfect  Christian  art.  Al- 
ready Christian  Architecture  had  achieved  some  of  its 
wonders.  The  venerable  Lateran  and  St.  Paul's  with- 
out the  Walls,  the  old  St.  Peter's,  St.  Mark's  at  Ven- 
ice and  Pisa,  Strasburg  and  Cologne,  Rheims  and 
Bourges,  York  and  Lincoln,  stood  in  their  majesty. 
Christian  Painting,  and  even  Christian  Sculpture,  were 
to  rise  to  their  untranscended  excellence. 

The  choice  of  Nicolas  V.  was  one  of  such  singular 
Hicoitsv.  felicity  for  his  time  that  it  cannot  be  won- 
1447.  '  dered  if  his  admirers  looked  on  it  as  over- 
ruled by  the  Holy  Spirit.  **  Who  would  have  thought 
in  Florence,"  so  said  Nicolas  to  his  biographer  Vespa- 
siano,  ^^  that  a  priest  who  rang  the  bells  should  become 
Supreme  Pontiff? "  *  Yet  it  seems  to  have  been  a 
happy  accident.  Eighteen  Cardinals  met  in  the  Con- 
clave. Ten  voices  were  for  the  Cardinal  Colonna ;  two 
more  would  give  him  the  requisite  majority.  Alfonso, 
King  of  Arragon  and  Sicily,  encamped  at  Tivoli,  fa- 
vored the  Colonna.  Already,  to  end  the  strife,  the 
Cardinal  of  Bologna  had  risen  to  add  his  suffrage.  He 
was  checked  and  interrupted  by  the  wise  Cardinal  of 

• 

1  Apud  Maratori,  p.  279. 


OHAF.XVn.  NICOLAS  V.  101 

Tarento.  "  Whom,  then,'*  said  he,  "  do  you  nomi- 
nate ?  "  "  The  Cardinal  of  Bologna  1 "  A  sudden 
light  seemed  to  flash  on  the  Conclave :  Thomas  of  Sar- 
san^  Cardinal  of  Bologna,  was  Pope.^ 

Had  a  turbulent,  punctilious,  obstinate  Pope,  another 
Eugenius,  succeeded  Eugenius  IV.,  all  might  again 
have  been  strife  and  confusion.  The  consummate  di- 
plomatic skill  of  iBneas  Sylvius  had  extorted  some 
concessions  on  his  death-bed  even  from  that  impractica- 
ble Pope.  Some  questions  had  been  designedly  left  in 
decent  vagueness. 

The  Cardinal  of  Bologna  was  forty-eight  years  old. 
His  rise  to  honors  had  been  rapid  —  Bishop,  Cardinal, 
Pope,  in  three  successive  years.^  He  was  known  as  a 
lover  and  liberal  patron  of  letters.  As  Legate  he  had 
been  singularly  active,  conciliatory,  popular,  and  there- 
fore successful.  He  had  seemingly  personal  fi*iendship 
for  ^neas  Sylvius,  and  could  fully  appreciate  his  wise 
and  dexterous  management.  He  left  the  German  ne- 
gotiations in  those  able  hands;  but  a  speech  attributed 
to  him  was  well-timed.  ^^  The  Bishops  had  too  little, 
rather  than  too  much  power :  he  had  no  design  to  en- 
croach on  their  lawful  authority."  ^  This  is  more 
remarkable,  as  in  all  business  he  had  the  most  perfect 
self-confidence :  nothing  was  well  done  which  he  did 
not  do  himself.^ 


1  Vit  Nicolai  V.,  a  Dominico  Geoigio,  p.  4. 

*  1445, 1446, 1447. 

•  Weiflsenberg. 

^  See  the  elaborate  character  of  Nicolas  Y.  by  JEneaa  Sylvian,  —  Fea, 
p.  139.  He  was  hasty  but  placable ;  friendly,  bat  there  was  no  friend  with 
whom  he  was  not  at  some  time  angry.  **  Nimium  de  se  credidit,  omnia  per 
se  facere  vol  ait.  Nihil  bene  fieri  patavit,  nisi  interesset. .  Injuriaram  neque 
nltor,  neque  oblitus  est" 


«  % 


102  LATIN   CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XUI 

Two  years  had  hardly  elapsed  when  Nicolas  V.  (so 
DbsoioHon  ^®^^  ^^^  -^iieas  Sylvius  done  his  work  in 
SbmS!'^  Germany)  was  sole  and  undisputed  Pope. 
A.P.  1449.  ^YiQ  Council  of  Basle,  disowned,  almost  for- 
gotten, had  dissolved  itself.  Felix  V.  was  again  Ama- 
deus  of  Savoy,  in  his  peaceful  retreat  at  Ripaille.  The 
Council  had  the  wisdom  to  yield,  the  Pope  the  greater 
wisdom  to  admit  the  Council  to  an  honorable  capitula- 
tion. The  Fathers  at  Basle  appeared  to  submit  to  the 
friendly  urgency  of  the  Kings  of  France  and  England. 
They  maintained  prudent  silence  on  the  abandonment 
of  their  cause  by  the  Emperor  Frederick  III.  and  his 
as  yet  ambiguous  and  disguised  menaces  of  compulsory 
dissolution.  The  Prince-Pope  was  permitted  to  retire, 
not  without  dignity.  Nicolas  demanded  not  that  in- 
sulting humiliation  which  had  been  enforced  by  his 
predecessors  on  their  discomfited  rivals.  Felix  V. 
Abdication  ^^^^k  iuto  a  Cardiualatc,  and  that  Cardinal  ate 
of  F«ux.        jjgj^|.  jjj  jjonor  to  the  Pope.     Louis  of  Aries 

was  restored  to  his  rank.  Three  out  of  the  Cardinals 
named  by  Felix  were  advanced  by  Nicolas ;  the  rest 
were  dead  or  content  to  abdicate.  All  the  Papal  cen- 
sures against  the  Pope  and  the  Council  were  annulled  ; 
the  Acts  of  the  Council,  as  far  as  promotions  and  ap- 
pointments^ confirmed. 

So  ended  the  last  Antipope,^  so  closed  the  last  Council 
which  claimed  coequal  authority  with  the  Pope.  The 
peaceful  treaty  showed  a  great  advance  in  Christian 
courtesy,  in  Christian  forbearance,  in  the  majesty  of 
Christian  gentleness ;  but  some  decay  too  in  the  depth 
and  ardor  of  Christian  zeal.  To  have  been  an  Anti- 
pope  was  no  longer  an  odious  and  inexpiable  crime  -— 

1  AmadeoB  lived  only  to  Jan.  1, 1461.    Montori,  sab  ann.  1440. 


Chap.XVII.        .£N£AS  SYLVIUS  IK  GERMAN  1.  10<5 

a  crime  to  be  forgiven  only  after  the  most  contumelious 
abasement,  or  as  an  ostentatious  act  of  mercj.  Felix 
may  have  owed  something  to  his  princely  rank,  more 
to  the  times  and  to  the  sagacious  character  of  Nico- 
las y.  Basle  saw  the  last  Council  which  could  pretend 
to  the  title  of  (Ecumenic :  that  of  Trent  was  a  Council 
of  Papal  Christendom,  and  by  no  means  the  whole  of 
Papal  Christendom.  All  that  had  severed  itself  from 
Latin  Christianity,  part  which  was  still  in  union,  stood 
aloof  from  an  assembly  chiefly  gathered  from  two  na- 
tions, Spain  and  Italy. 

Nicolas  V.  retired  into  his  serene  and  peaceful  dig- 
nity :  not  so  his  restless  colleague  in  all  his  ^^^^^ 
negotiations  and  in  his  journeys.  JEneas  Syl-  ^y^^"*- 
vius  had  still  years  of  busy  life  before  him.  Among 
the  first  acts  of  Pope  Nicolas  had  been  the  confirmation 
of  ^neas  in  his  Papal  Secretaryship  and  in  his  Bish- 
opric of  Trieste.  It  was  singular  enough  that,  as  Bish- 
op of  Bologna,  Thomas  of  Sarzana  had  been  honored 
everywhere  but  in  his  own  See.  Bologna  would  not 
admit  him  within  her  walls.  The  Church  of  Trieste, 
at  first  refiractory,  could  not  but  receive  a  Bishop  com- 
mended by  the  Emperor  and  the  Pope. 

The  Bishop  of  Trieste  returned  to  Germany.  No 
afiair  of  Frederick  III.  could  be  conducted  without  his 
aid.  He  was  first  sent  to  the  Diet  of  Ascliaf-  July  12, 1447. 
fenburg,  which,  under  the  Archbishop  of  Mentz,  ac- 
cepted the  Bulls  of  Pope  Eugenius  and  acknowledged 
Pope  Nicolas.  Duke  Philippe  Maria,  the  last  of  the 
Viscontis,  died,^  Milan  was  in  confusion.^     The  Em- 

1  In  the  castle  of  Porta  Zobbia,  Ang.  15, 1447. 

*  "Incredibile  allora  fu  la  reroluzione  dello  Stato  de  Milano;  tutto  si 
reimpi  di  sedizioni,  ed  ognano  prese  V  armi."  —  Muratori,  sub  ann. 


104  LATIK  CHRISTUNITY.  BookXIH, 

peror,  among  the  competitors  for  the  Dukedom,^  as  an 
escheated  fief  of  the  Empire,  would  beyond  that,  put 
in  his  claim  as  actual  Ruler,  ^neas  was  among  his 
ambassadors.  Milan  would  own  the  suzerainty  of  the 
Emperor,  but  at  the  same  time  maintain  her  freedom. 
The  Embassy  returned,  having  effected  nothing,  from 
the  impracticable  city.^  JBneas  attributes  their  failure 
to  the  grasping  ambition  of  his  German  colleagues  in 
the  Embassy :  demanding  too  much,  they  lost  all ;  his 
more  subtle  policy  would  have  succeeded  better.  He 
returned  to  Vienna,  was  consecrated  Bishop  of  Triaste, 
visited  his  diocese,  was  received  with  cordial  welcome, 
and  celebrated  mass.  But  he  was  not  long  occupied 
with  his  peaceful  duties.  He  was  called  upon  to  settle 
a  question  of  frontier  in  Istria  between  the  Emperor 
and  the  Venetians.  On  his  return  to  Trieste  he  found 
a  Count  Rupert  warring  on  the  city,  wasting  the  estates 
of  the  Church.  He  laid  his  complaints  before  the  Em- 
peror, but  himself  hardly  escaped  from  the  hands  of 
the  noble  freebooter.  On  his  return  to  Vienna  he 
found  his  power  in  the  Council  somewhat  in  danger. 
His  friend  and  patron  Gasper  Schlick  was  in  disgrace. 
He  died  July  16,  1449.  As  of  the  Chancellor's  fac- 
tion ^neas  fell  under  suspicion.  With  his  usual  dex- 
terity he  steered  his  course,  not  absolutely  renouncing 
his  friend,  yet  not  offending  the  Emperor.  He  received 
another  benefice,  a  rich  parish  church  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  Vienna. 

Milan  again  besieged  by  Francis  Sforza  made  over- 


^  Charles,  Duke  of  Orleans,  in  right  of  his  mother,  Valentina,  sister  of 
the  late  Duke ;  Alfonso,  King  of  Naples  and  Arragon,  by  the  will  of  the  late 
Duke ;  Francis  Sforza,  husband  of  the  natural  daughter  of  the  late  Duke. 

s  Commentar.  Pil  II.,  &c.,  pp.  19,  25. 


CHAP.XVn.      MILAN  REGEIVES  SFORZA.  105 

tares  to  the  Emperor.  Again  the  indefatigable  ^neas 
crossed  the  Worm  Alp,  descended  into  the  Jaiy,  1449. 
Valteline,  and  found  the  Lake  of  Como  and  its  shores 
overrun  by  the  troops  of  Sforza ;  he  reached  Como 
with  difficulty.  That  city  was  beset  on  all  sides ;  Sforza 
eagerly  desired  to  seize  the  Imperial  Ambassadors.  At 
the  head  of  a  few  soldiers,  JSneas  dashed  through  by 
night  and  reached  Milan.^  Notwithstanding  the  open 
and  the  secret  opposition  of  Sforza's  partisans,  he  as- 
sembled and  harangued  the  people.  Three  gates  (quaiv 
ters)  of  the  city  would  have  proclaimed  the  Emperor 
without  condition,  one  more  had  been  a  majority.^ 
Terms  were  however  fi:amed,  on  the  whole  favorable  to 
the  Emperor,  but  such  as  ^neas  had  no  authority  to 
accept.  Charles  Gonzaga  proposed  to  iEneas  to  seize 
the  city  by  force.  This  ^neas  declined  as  unbecom- 
ing his  ecclesiastical  character.  The  scheme  was  full 
of  dangers,  and  of  very  doubtful  issue !  ^neas  re- 
tamed  to  the  Emperor.  Frederick,  however,  needed 
not  only  dexterous  Ambassadors,  but  well-  From  Feb^ 

•'  .  to  March  22, 

appointed  armies  and  able  Generals  to  occupy  i^so. 

and  protect  Milan :  he  had  neither.     Milan  opened  her 

gates  to  Sforza  ;  Sforza  was  Duke  of  Milan.^ 

In  the  first  year  of  Sforza's  dukedom,  that  of  the 
Jubilee,  ^neas  was  engaged  on  a  more  peaceful  mis- 
sion, to  settle  the  contract  of  marriage  between  the 
Emperor  and  Leonora,  sister  of  the  King  of  Portugal. 
The  agreement  was  readily  made  at  Naples  with  the 

1  Vit.  Frederic.  III.,  p.  147. 

S  n)id.  p.  149. 

*  **  Qui  etiam  insignia  ducalia,  tnulente  populo,  siucepit,  qusB  res  neqne 
vim  neqne  colorem  habuit  jastitiie."  —  P.  162.  Mnratori,  sob  ann.  i.  450. 
For  the  personal  adventures  of  ^neas  Sylvius,  see  the  Commentaries  and 
Life  of  Frederick  III.  apud  KoUar,  p.  UO,  c(  teq. 


106  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY  Book  XUI. 

Ambassadors  of  Portugal,  ^neas  saw  Rome  at  the 
height  of  the  Jubilee,  his  friend  and  Patron,  Nicolas 
v.,  receiving  the  homage,  the  well-deserved  homage, 
and  the  tribute  of  the  world. 

In  Nicolas  V.,  in  three  short  years,  the  Pope  had 
become  again  a  great  Italian  Potentate.  Not  that 
Nicolas  V.  was  of  one  of  the  famous  houses,  or  as[)ired 
to  found  a  family  of  Princes.  He  was  superior  to,  or 
not  tempted  to  that  Nepotism,  which  had  already  made 
some  advances,  some  initiatory  efforts,  to  invest  the  de- 
scendants or  kinsmen  of  Popes  in  territorial  honors  or 
titles.  Hitherto  these  families  had  taken  no  root,  had 
died  out,  sunk  into  obscurity,  or  had  been  beaten  down 
by  common  consent  as  upstart  usurpers.  Nicolas  V. 
laid  the  foundation  of  his  power,  not  so  much  in  the 
strength  of  the  Roman  See  as  a  temporal  Sovereignty, 
as  in  the  admiration  and  gratitude  of  Italy,  which  was 
rapidly  reported  over  the  whole  of  Christendom.  He 
kept  in  pay  no  large  armies,  his  Cardinals  were  not 
Condottieri  generals ;  he  declared  that  he  would  never 
employ  any  arms  but  those  of  the  Cross  of  Christ.^ 
But  he  maintained  the  Estates  of  the  Church  in  peace, 
he  endeavored  (and  the  circumstances  of  the  times  fa- 
vored that  better  policy)  to  compose  the  feuds  of  Italy, 
raging  at  least  with  their  usual  violence.  He  was 
among  the  few  Popes,  really  a  great  Pacificator  in 
Italy.  Four  mighty  Powers  were  now  mingled  in 
open  war,  or  in  secret  intrigue.  Alfonso,  King  of 
Arragon  and  the  two  Sicilies,  the  Dukes  of  Milan, 
the  Venetians  and  the  Florentines.  Eugenius  had 
had  the  wisdom,  or  good  fortune,  to  abandon  the 
French  pretensions  to  the  throne  of  Naples,  that  fatal 

^  Yespasiano,  p.  279. 


Chap.XVIL  character  OF  NICOLAS  V.  107 

claim  by  which  the  Popes  had  for  centuries  entailed 
the  miseries  of  war  upon  Italy,  and  servitude  upon 
themselves.  The  strife  for  the  Dukedom  of  Milan, 
notwithstanding  the  pretensions  of  the  Emperor,  and 
all  the  arts  of  ^neas  Sylvius,  the  claims  of  the  King 
of  Arragon,  and  of  the  House  of  Orleans,  had  termi- 
nated in  the  establishment  of  the  Sforzas.  Pope  Nico- 
las almost  for  the  first  time  entered  openly  into  Italian 
politics,  as  a  true  Mediator  —  not  as  a  partisan  —  and, 
so  doing,  was  for  the  first  time  (to  a  certain  extent  at 
least)  successful  in  his  mediation.  Even  in  the  wars 
of  these  powers  Romagna  was  respected  and  escaj)ed 
devastation.  The  warlike  chieftains  who  had  usurped 
the  cities  and  domains  of  the  Church,  were  glad  to  be- 
come her  subjects.  The  Malatestas  accepted  the  recog- 
nition of  their  title  as  Lords  of  Rimini,  Fano,  and  other 
cities  of  Romagna,  and  from  their  tribute  the  Pope 
received  a  revenue,  if  not  equal  in  amount,  more  sure 
and  less  invidious  than  his  own  taxation.  The  re- 
trenchments insisted  upon  by  the  Council  of  Basle, 
were  eluded  by  a  Concordat,  drawn  with  all  the  subt- 
lety of  -Sneas  Sylvius,  and  received  by  his  obsequious 
master  Frederick.  In  remote  regions  there  were  still 
deep  murmurs  at  the  avarice,  the  venality  of  Rome ; 
Nicolas  and  his  Court  escaped  not,  and  did  not  deserve 
to  escape,  the  common  charge  of  rapacity  ;  but  such 
murmurs  died  away  in  those  distant  quarters,  or  had 
lost  their  effect.^ 

1  Stimmen,  p.  116.  The  unbaMador,  credited  with  1225  dacat«,  ia  in- 
ttrocted  to  give  1000  ducats  either  in  gold  or  in  some  rich  present  —  225 
are  for  the  Cardinal  patron.  But  if  the  Pope  is  not  content  with  the  1000, 
be  must  have  it  all,  and  the  Protector  wait  The  close  of  the  affair  is  even 
more  discreditable  to  the  Pope.  It  is  a  very  curious  detail  on  the  process 
of  Papal  bribery.    In  144B,  a  collector  and  vender  of  Indulgences  levied 


108  LATIN  CHRISTLAJflTY.  Book  Xm. 

All  this  was  not  done,  but  it  was  well  begun  before 
the  Jubilee ;  and  no  Jubilee  had  been  more  splendid, 
more  peaceiul,  attended  by  greater  numbers,^  produc- 
tive of  more  immense  wealth.^  A  new  coin  for  the 
Jubilee  was  struck.  From  every  part  of  Europe  came 
pilgrims  of  the  highest  rank,  strangers  swarmed  like 
ants  in  the  streets  of  Rome  and  Florence.  The  throng 
was  so  great  that  above  200  persons  were  crushed  to 
death  on  the  bridge  of  St.  Angelo.^  The  Bank  of  the 
Medici  alone  had  100,000  florins  belonging  to  the 
Church,^  and  during  the  whole  time  poured  in  riches, 
which  aided  in  the  restoration  of  the  dilapidated  finances 
of  the  Popedom.  The  Pilgrims  carried  back  through- 
out Europe  accounts  of  the  resuscitated  majesty  of  the 
Roman  Pontificate,  the  unsullied  personal  dignity  of 
the  Pope,  the  reenthronement  of  religion  in  the  splen- 
did edifices,  which  were  either  building  or  under  resto- 
ration.* 

in  Prassia  7845  marks:  for  Indulgences,  3241;  for  Peter's  Pence,  4604. — 
P.  137. 

1  "  Dopo  il  primo  Ginbileo  del  Anno  1300  forse  non  fa  mai  vendato  on  si 
gran  flusso  e  riflusso  di  gente  in  Roma,  de  modo  che  le  strade  Maestro  d* 
Italia  pareano  tante  Fiere."  —  Muratori,  Ann.,  sub  ann.  ^  Licet  quadrin- 
genta  et  amplius  millia  diebus  singulis  per  urbem  templa  foraque  vaderent.** 
—  Vit.  Freder.  III.,  p.  172 

^  The  Teutonic  Order  tried  to  suppress  the  Bull,  and  to  discourage  the 
wasteful  journey  to  Rome.  The  Pope  was  furious,  and  only  appeased  by  a 
great  offering.  —  Stimmen,  p.  140. 

<  Infessura,  Chron.  de  Rimini ;  J£neas  Sylvius,  Yit.  Ftederic.  p.  172. 
*  Vespasiano,  Vit.  Nicol.  V. 

<  The  Jubilee  was  interrupted  by  the  plague,  the  fear  of  which  had 
driven  many  in  devotion  to  Rome  (Sanuto  says  60,000  died  in  Milan; 
hardly  a  man  was  left  alive  in  Piacensa).  —  Muratori.  The  Cardinals,  the 
Pope  himself,  were  obliged  to  fly  from  Rome.  "  His  Holiness  goes  from 
one  castle  to  another  with  a  small  Court,  and  very  few  followers,  seeking 
to  find  anywhere  an  uninfected  place.  His  Holiness  is  now  in  a  castle 
called  Fabriano,  where  he  was  last  year  for  some  time ;  an'^  it  is  said  haa 
forbidden,  under  pain  of  death,  that  any  one,  of  any  rank  whatever,  who  is 


Chap.  XVn.  iENEAS  BISHOP  OF  SIENNA.  109 

Among  those  who  would  disseminate  the  fame  of 
Nicolas  v.,  none  would  be  more  loud,  as  none  had 
stronger  reasons  to  be  grateful,  than  JSneas  Sylvius. 
He  had  just  reached  the  Alps  on  his  return  from  Rome 
(he  had  hardly  escaped  drowning  in  a  swollen  stream), 
when  he  was  overtaken  by  the  pleasant  intelligence  that 
he  had  been  named  by  the  Pope,  Bishop  of  his  native 
city  of  Sienna,  ^neas  had  never  contemplated  the 
passing  the  rest  of  his  life  in  the  cold  ungenial  region 
of  Germany.  "  I  yearn,"  he  writes,  "  for  my  native 
Italy ;  I  dread  nothing  so  much  as  to  lay  my  bones  in 
a  foreign  land,  though  the  way  to  heaven  or  to  hell  lies 
open  alike  from  both.  But  it  would  be  less  painful,  I 
know  not  why,  to  die  in  the  arms  of  brothers,  sisters, 
sons,  grandsons."^  It  should  seem*  that  he  turned 
hack,  saw  the  Pope  again,  entered  Sienna,  was  wel- 
comed with  the  joyfril  acclamations  of  the  inhabitants, 
proud  to  receive  a  native  Siennese  as  their  Bishop.  But 
the  Bishop  of  Sienna  returned  to  his  Imperial  Master : 
Germany  must  still  be  held  in  its  close  alliance  with 
Borne.  His  next  embassy,  in  the  following  year,  was 
into  Bohemia.  Both  on  his  journey  towards  Prague 
and  on  his  return,  he  was  hospitably  received  in  Tabor, 
the  city  of  the  most  extreme  disciples  of  John  Huss. 
In  a  letter  to  John  Carvajal,^  the  Cardinal  of  St.  An- 
gelo,  he  gives  a  striking  description  of  that  inexpugna- 
ble fortress.     Over  the  gates  were  two  shields :  on  one 


at  Rome,  shall  come  aecretly  or  openly  to  Fabriano,  or  within  seven  miles 
of  it:  the  Cardinals  alone  are  excepted,  who  are  limited  to  four  servants.** 
—  Voigt,  from  the  Despatches  of  the  Teutonic  Knights.  Stimmen,  p.  70. 
This  is  not  a  very  high  view  of  the  Pope's  courage. 

1  Epist  Ixv. 

s  The  account  is  not  clear. 

•  Epist. 


110  ULTIN  CHBISHANITT.  BookXUL 

was  painted  an  Angel  with  the  Sacramental  Cup ;  on 
the  other  the  blind  old  Ziska,  their  leader  in  war  while 
alive,  whose  skin,  stretched  on  a  drum,  after  his  death, 
had  inspirited  them  to  certain  victory.  The  Bishop  of 
Sienna  had  strong  misgivings  in  entering  this  head- 
quarters of  Satan.  The  Churchman  held  the  auda- 
cious sectaries,  who  disdained  the  Primacy  of  Rome 
(the  head  of  their  offending,  which  included  all  other 
heresies),  in  the  devoutest  horror.  "  The  Emperor 
Sigismund,  instead  of  granting  terms  of  peace  to  this 
most  wicked  and  sacrilegious  race,  ought  to  have  exter- 
minated them,  or  reduced  them  to  hewers  of  stone  for 
the  rest  of  mankind."  ^neas  had  forgotten  the  irre- 
sistible valor,  the  splendid  years  of  victory,  which  had 
extorted  these  terms  from  the  Emperor.  But  the  rude, 
poor  Taborites  treated  the  Bishop  with  perfect  courtesy. 
At  a  town  about  twenty-five  miles  from  Prague  (a  pes- 
tilence was  raging  in  Prague,  and  to  his  regret  he  dared 
not  approach  that  ancient  and  noble  city),  he  met  the 
heads  of  the  Bohemian  nation.  The  object  of  his 
mission  was  soon  despatched ;  the  summons  of  a  gen- 
eral Convention  in  the  following  year,  with  the  Am- 
bassador of  the  Emperor,  and  the  Pope's  Legate,  at 
Leutmeritz.  In  that  city  he  held  a  long  theological 
discussion  with  George  Podiebrad ;  a  second  at  Tabor 
with  Nicolas,  the  Bishop  of  the  sect.  He  acknowledged 
that  all  his  eloquence  made  no  impression  on  the  stub- 
born Utraquists.  The  Taborites  stuck  to  the  Scripture, 
iBneas  to  the  power  of  the  Church ;  no  wonder  that 
they  came  to  no  conclusion.  But  whatever  might  be 
the  secret  thouglits  of  each  party  as  to  the  fate  of  his 
antagonist  on  the  Day  of  Judgment,  they  parted  with 
seeming  mutual  respect. 


CHAF.XVn.      CORONATION  OF  THE  ElfPEROR.  Ill 

Nicolas  V.  was  to  behold,  as  it  were,  the  final  act  of 
homage  to  the  Popedom,  from  the  majesty  of  ooionatfon 
the  Empire.     He  was  to  be  the  last  Pontiff  smiwror. 
who  was  to  crown  at  Rome  the  successor  of  Charle- 
magne ;  Frederick  III.  the  last  Emperor  who  was  so  to 
receive  his  crown  from  the  hands  of  the  Pope.     ^Eneas 
Sylvius  is  again  in  Italy;  he  is  the  harbinger  of  the 
Emperor,  who  is  about  to  descend  into  Italy  to  meet 
his  Portuguese  bride,  to  consummate  his  marriage,  and 
at  the  same  time  to  celebrate  his  Coronation  at  Rome. 
The  Free  cities  were  always  troubled,  and  were  thrown 
into  a  tumult  of  intrigue,  if  not  of  feud,  by  the  appear- 
ance of  the  Emperor  in  Italy.     Guelph  turned  pale, 
Ghibelline  brightened.     Sienna  was  under  popular  gov- 
ernment.    Would  the  Emperor's  favorite,  the  favorite 
of  the  Pope,  the  heir  of  the  proud  but  fallen  house  of 
Piccolomini,  now  their  Bishop,  forego  the  opportunity 
of  seizing  for  his  own  family  the  lordship  of  the  city  ?  ^ 
Sienna,  which  the  year  before  had  thronged  out  to  meet 
^neas,  received  him  in  sullen  silence ;  no  one  visited 
him,  his  name  was  heard  muttered  with  low  curses  in 
the  streets,     ^neas,  as  he  says,  smiled  at  the  sudden 
change  (did  not  his  vanity  magnify  his  own  unpopu- 
larity, and  the  jealousy  of  the  city?).     He  assembled 
the  Senate,  assured  them  of  the  peaceful  and  unambi- 
tious views  of  himself,  his  family,  and  of  the  Emperor. 
The  Siennese  suppressed,  but  could  not  conceal  their 
mistrust,     ^neas   having   splendidly   buried   his   col- 
league in  the  Embassy,  who  died  at  Sienna,  thought  it 
most  prudent  to  go  down  to  Telamona,  in  order  to  be 
in  readiness  to  receive  the  Portuffuese  Princess. 

Pope  Nicolas  himself  began  to  look  with  alarm  at 

1  Vit.  Frederic.  III.  p.  244. 


H2  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXHI. 

the  approach  of  the  Emperor.  There  were  suspicious 
movements  at  Rome ;  more  than  suspicions,  of  the  dire 
designs  of  Stephen  Porcaro  and  his  partisans,  which 
broke  out  during  the  next  year.^ 

•  The  pride  and  the  fehcity  of  Nicolas  V.  was  in  the 
undisturbed  peace  of  Italy,  at  least  of  Roman  Italy ; 
who  could  foretell  what  strange  or  unexpected  tumults 
might  arise  at  the  appearance  of  the  Emperor?  He 
sent  to  delay  the  march  of  Frederick,  at  least  till  the 
summer  ;  he  urged  the  want  of  provisions,  of  prepara- 
tion, the  dangers  of  a  winter  journey.  JBneas  was 
indignant  at  this  timid  vacillation  of  the  Pope ;  "  it  be- 
came not  the  supreme  Pontiff  to  say  one  thing  to-day, 
another  to-morrow."  He  assured  Pope  Nicolas  of  the 
pacific  intentions  of  the  Emperor.  He  appealed  to  the 
conduct  of  the  Emperor  to  the  Church  ;  if  he  had  been 
an  enemy  to  the  Church,  the  whole  majesty  of  the 
Clergy  had  been  crushed  ;  we  had  not  had  the  joy  of 
beholding  you  in  your  present  state  of  power  and  au- 
thority.^ He  wrote  courteous  letters  to  urge  the  imme- 
diate descent  of  Frederick  .^ 

Tumults  in  Austria  detained  the  Emperor ;  stormy 
weather  his  bride.  Mneas  Sylvius  spent  sixty  weary 
days  at  Telamona.^  At  length,  on  the  same  day,  the 
Emperor  entered  Florence,  his  bride  Leghorn.  They 
met  at  Sienna.  Sienna  thought  it  well  to  appear  to  be 
fiiU  of  joy,  was  delighted  with  the  urbanity  and  conde- 

^  Si  voluisset  tantura  pe9*ium  ihat  Eccle^ia :  cleri  majestas  omnis  extjngue- 
batur;  nee  tn  hodie  in  hoc  statu  esses,  in  quo  te  videntes  Isptamur,  p.  191. 

s  The  most  full  account  of  this  affair,  with  the  letter  of  JSneas  to  the 
Pope,  is  in  the  Hist.  Frederic.  III.  aptid  Kollar,  p.  187  et  teq. 

'  He  whiled  away  his  time  by  visiting  the  old  Etrurian  cities  in  the 
neighborhood,  ^neas  had  a  remarkable,  almost  a  premature,  taste  for 
antiquities  and  for  the  beauties  of  nature. 


Chap.XYII.  emperor  AT  ROlCE.  113 

scension  of  the  Emperor,  renounced  her  suspicions  of 
^neas,  recalled  all  his  kindred,  some  of  whom,  with 
other  nobles,  were  in  exile  ;  and  entreated  the  Bishop, 
whom  the  people  now  called  the  father  of  his  country, 
to  represent  the  City  before  the  Pope. 

The  imperial  cavalcade  set  off  for  Rome.  As  they 
descended  the  Ciminian  hill,  which  overhangs  Viterbo, 
the  Emperor  called  ^neas  to  his  side.  ^^  I  shall  live 
to  see  you  Cardinal,  I  shall  live  to  see  you  Pope." 
^neas,  with  proper  modest}^,  protested  that  he  did  not 
aspire  to  either  of  these  perilous  dignitiesi  At  Rome 
the  marriage  was  solemnized  by  the  PopOj^j^^^ig 
himself,^  afterwards  the  Coronation  with  great  ^*®' 
magnificence.^  ^neas  Sylvius  made  a  speech  for  the 
Emperor.  The  day  after,  during  an  interview  at  which 
^neas  was  present,  the  Emperor  and  the  Pope  com- 
municated two  extraordinary  dreams.®  The  Emperor, 
the  last  time  that  the  Cardinal  of  Bologna  left  Vienna, 
had  dreamed  that  he  was  crowned  not  by  a  Roman,  but 
by  the  Cardinal  of  Bologna.  "It  is  the  privilege," 
said  the  Pope,  "  of  those  set  up  to  rule  the  people  to 
have  true  dreams.  I  myself  dreamed  that  my  pred- 
ecessor Eugenius,  the  night  before  his  death,  had  ar- 
rayed me  in  the  Pontifical  dress  and  mitre,  and  placed 
me  on  the  throne.  Take  thou  my  seat,  I  depart  to 
St.  Peter."  The  humble  Thomas  of  Sarzana  had  not 
been  without  his  ambition!^  The  prediction  of  the 
Emperor,  as  to  the  advancement  of  ^neas  Sylvius,  noi^ 

1  Mneas  Sylvius  describes  the  whole  at  great  length,  p.  277  e<  seq. 
*  The  cautious  Pope  had  arrayed  all  the  militia  of  the  city,  and  occupied 
St.  Angelo  and  the  other  strongholds  with  an  imposing  force  to  keep  the 


*  Mnratori,  snb  ann. 
4  Yita  Frederic,  p.  296. 

VOL.  vin.  8 


114  LATIK  GHEMTUNITY.  BookXUL 

on  such  amicable  terms  with  the  Pope,  might  have  been 
expected  to  meet  its  own  immediate  accomplishment, 
as  fer  as  the  Cardinalate.  iBneas,  however,  received 
only  a  barren  promise,  which  Pope  Nicolas  did  not  live 
to  fulfil.  But  he  returned  to  Germany  Papal  Ambas- 
sador and  Legate  to  Bohemia,  Silesia,  Austria,  Moravia, 
Styria,  Carinthia,  Camiola,  —  afterwards,  at  the  Em- 
V  peror's  request,  to  Hungary.     The  Legatine  character 

gave  him  great  weight,  he  .exercised  it  with  his  accus- 
tomed sagacity,  and  in  perfect  fidelity  to  Frederick. 
He  was  armed,  as  Legate,  with  Papal  censures  against 
all  the  enemies  of  Frederick.  But  these  Austrian 
afikirs  belong  not  to  our  history. 

Throughout  Christendom,  except  in  the  narrow  cor- 
ner of  Bohemia,  Pope  Nicolas  V.  mled  supreme.  Yet 
even  Nicolas  V.  was  not  secure  against  the  inextin* 
guishable  turbulence  of  the  Roman  people.  The  r^ 
publicanism  of  the  Crescentii,  of  Arnold  of  Brescia, 
of  Brancaleone,  of  Rienzi,  of  Baroncelli,  had  still  its 
champions  and  its  martyrs.  Stephen  Porcaro  was  the 
last  heir,  till  very  modem  times,  of  this  dangerous  and 
undying  race.  Stephen  Porcaro  was  of  equestrian 
family,  of  powerful  and  kindling  eloquence.  On  the 
death  of  Eugenius  ^Eugenius  himself  had  been  driven 
from  Rome  by  popular  insurrection)  Porcaro  had  urged 
the  rising  of  the  people,  the  proclamation  of  the  Re- 
public.^ Pope  Nicolas,  anxious  to  conciliate  all  orders, 
appointed  the  dangerous  demagogue  on  a  mission  in  the 
Roman  territory.  On  his  return  Porcaro  renewed  his 
agitation.     He  boldly  avowed  his  opinions,  and  almost 

1  Dicens  omnem  servitatem  turpem,  foedissimam  autem  qu»  pnesbjterit 
pnestaretar,  rogabatqne  Romanos,  dam  Cardinales  cUasi  easent,  aliqnod 
audere  pro  libertate.    Maeag  Sylvius,  V.  Fred.  IQ.  p.  135. 


Chaf.  XVn.  STEPHEN  PORCABO,  116 

aoinoanced  himself  as  defender  of  the  liberties  of  the 
Boman  people.  He  was  sent  in  honot*able  exile  to  Bo- 
logna, under  the  sole  restraint  that  he  slwuld  present 
himself  every  day  before  Bessarion,  the  Cardinal  •  Leg- 
ate. He  returned  secretly  to  Rome.  A  conspirax;y 
had  been  organized  in  which  the  nephew  of  Porcaro 
took  the  lead.  Stephen  Porcaro  harangued  the  con- 
spirators, inveighed  ag^nst  the  tyranny  of  the  rulers, 
the  arbitrary  proscription,  the  banishment,  even  the 
execution,  of  Roman  citizens.  He  declared  that  it  was 
ignominious  that  the  city  which  had  ruled  the  world 
should  be  subject  to  the  dominion  of  priests,  who  were 
women  rather  than  men.^  He  would  east  off  forever 
tb«  degrading  yoke.  He  had  at  his  command  three 
hundred  hired  soldiers.  Four  hundred  noble  Romans 
were  ready  to  appear  in  arms.  He  appealed  to  their 
cupidity  as  to  their  patriotism :  to-mon*ow  they  might 
be  in  possession  of  a  million  of  gold  pieces.^  If  the 
aims  of  Porcaro  were  noble,  his  immediate  designs,  the 
desigps  with  which  be  was  charged,  and  with  seeming 
tmtb,^  were  those  of  the  robber,  the  bloody  and  cow* 
ardly  assassin.^  The  contenvplated  mode  oi  insurreo 
tion  had  the  further  horror  <^  impious  sacrilege.  The 
Pope  and  the  Candinals  were  to  be  surprised  while  sol- 
emnizing the  mass  on  the  festival  of  the  Epiphany* 
The  Papal  stables  near  the  church  were  to  be  set  on 

1  Tarpe  esse  dictitans  earn  urbem,  qum  totum  sibi  subjecerit  orbem,  nunc 
sacevdotam  imperio  subjacere*  quoe  mcUub  fceminaa  quant  viios  quisqiie 
appellaverit.    ^neas  Sylvius,  Europa,  p.  459. 

^  Zantfliet,  Stephen  InfiaBSura,  Platiiia. 

9  Vita  NicoUi  V.  p.  128. 

4  8iai»e»di,  true  to  his  repubUcaa  bias,  raises  Stephen  Porcaro  to  a  hero 
and  a  martyr;  and  while  he  perhaps  exaggerates  the  cruelty  of  the  Pope, 
Dardiy  tevehes  on  its  jnstiSGation,  the  atrocity  of  the  plot.  When  will 
Italian  freedom  forswear  assassination  as  its  fint  and  favorite  weapon? 


116  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXHI. 

fire.  In  the  tumult  Porcaro  was  to  appear  in  purple 
and  with  the  ensigns  of  magistracy,  to  force  or  gain  his 
way  as  a  worshipper  towards  the  altar.  The  Pope  was 
to  be  seized ;  it  was  said  that  the  chains  were  found,  ^ 
chains  of  gold,  which  had  been  displayed  to  the  insur- 
gents, which  were  to  fetter  his  holy  person,^  only, 
however,  to  be  thrown  into  a  dungeon  as  a  hostage  to 
compel  his  brother  to  surrender  the  Castle  of  St.  An- 
gelo.  His  after^fate  was  perhaps  to  be  that  of  his 
brethren  the  Cardinals,  who  were  to  be  massacred  with- 
out mercy.  The  shaven  crown  was  no  longer  to  be  an 
object  of  fear  or  respect  in  Rome.*  The  insurgents 
had  nicely  calculated  the  amount  of  plunder :  from  the 
Palace  of  the  Pope  200,000  florins ;  from  the  Sacred 
College  200,000 :  from  the  merchants  and  public  offi- 
cers 200,000 ;  from  the  magazines  and  salt  depots 
200,000  ;  from  the  confiscated  property  of  the  enemies 
o£  the  revolution  100,000. 

The  conspiracy  was  detected  or  betrayed.*  The 
house  where  the  conspirators  assembled  was  surrounded 
with  troops.  Porcaro  escaped,  but  was  found  next 
day,  hidden  by  his  sister  in  a  chest.  Sciarra  Porcaro, 
the  nephew,  cut  his  way  through  the  soldiers  and  fled. 
Many  servants  and  quantities  of  arms  were  found  in 
the  house.  The  very  day  of  his  capture  the  bodies  of 
Stephen  Porcaro  and  nine  of  his  accomplices  were 
seen  hanging  from  the  battlements  of  the  Castle  of  St. 
Angelo.      They  had  in  vain  implored  confession  and 

1  Ad  colligandnm  ait  prsesulem,  catenam  aoream  secum  attalit,  a  se 
Jampridem  paratam  quam  congregatis  ostendit    ^n.  Syl.  Enropa,  p.  460. 

s  Telle  enim  aiebat  se  id  agere,  ut  aeteniuin  intra  hiec  mcenia  capitis  raai 
dentes  vereri  non  oporteret    Leo  Alberti. 

*  According  to  Stelano  Infesaura  they  attacked  one  hundred  of  the  Pope's 
gnards,  and  killed  the  Marescallo. 


CHAP.XVn.      THE  CONSPIRA.TO^  EXECUTED.  117 

the  last  sacrament.  Many  other  executions  followed. 
Two  Canons  of  St.  Peter's  were  involved  in  the  plot : 
one  was  found  innocent  and  released ;  the  other  fled  to 
Damascus,  where  he  remained  till  after  the  death  of 
the  Pope.  Large  rewards  were  offered  for  some  who 
had  escaped:  one  thousand  ducats  if  produced  aUve, 
five  hundred  if  dead.  Some  were  allowed  to  he  seized 
in  Padua  and  Venice.  The  Cardinal  of  Metz  inter- 
ceded for  Battista  Persona ;  it  was  alleged  that  he  was 
guiltless.  The  Pope  promised  mercy :  whether  on  new 
evidence  or  not,  he  was  hung  the  next  morning :  the 
indignant  Cardinal  left  Rome. 

The  Pope  was  bitterly  mortified  at  this  ingratitude 
of  the  Roman  people  for  his  mild  government,  the 
peace  which  they  enjoyed,  the  wealth  which  had  poured 
into  the  city,  the  magnificent  embeUishments  of  Rome. 
He  became  anxious  and  morose.  Remorse  for  blood, 
if  necessarily,  too  prodigally  shed,  would  weigh  heavily 
on  a  Pope  who  had  shrunk  from  war  as  unchristian.^ 
The  famous  architect  Leo  Alberti  (employed,  it  is  true, 
by  Nicolas  V.  in  his  splendid  designs  for  St.  Peter's) 
describes  the  unexampled  state  of  prosperity  enjoyed 
under  Nicolas,  for  which  the  conspirators  would  have 
made  that  cruel  return.  ^^  The  whole  of  Latium  was 
at  peace :  the  last  thing  to  be  expected  was  that  any 

1  See  in  Collier  (i.  p.  672)  the  curious  account  of  Porcaro's  conspiracy 
giren  in  England  by  the  Pope's  Nuncio  Clement  Vincentio:  "It  was 
drawn/*  said  the  Nuncio,  "  from  the  brothels  and  profligates  of  Rome." 
The  Nuncio  suggests  a  form  of  public  thanksgiving  for  the  Pope's  deliver- 
ance, and  intimates  that  a  letter  from  the  English  clergy  would  be  accept- 
able, denouncing  Rome  as  degenerating  to  the  licentiousness  of  old  Babylon, 
and  advising  the  Pope  to  leave  the  wicked  city,  and  reside  In  some  other 
country.  The  Nuncio  and  Collector  was  also  to  hint  the  expediency  of  a 
subsidy  to  enable  the  Pope  to  leave  Rome  and  Italy.  The  form  of  prayer 
Was  issued,  says  Collier,  but  no  more  done. 


118  LATIN    CHRISTIANITT.  Book  HH. 

Koman  coald  think  to  change  the  state  of  afiairs  for  the 
better  by  a  revolution.  The  domain  of  the  Chnrch 
was  in  a  high  state  of  cnltiyation  ;  the  city  had  become 
a  city  of  gold  through  the  Jubilee ;  the  dignity  of  the 
citizens  was  respected ;  all  reasonable  petitions  were 
granted  at  once  by  the  Pontiff.  There  were  no  exac- 
tions, no  new  taxes.  Justice  was  fairly  administered. 
It  was  the  whole  care  of  the  Pope  to  adorn  the  city." 
The  more  devout  and  the  more  wealthy  were  indignant 
at  the  design  to  plunder  and  massacre  the  foreigners 
whose  profuse  wealth  enabled  the  Romans  to  live  in 
ease  and  luxury ;  at  the  profanation  of  the  Church  by 
promiscuous  slaughter,  of  the  altar  itself  by  blood ;  the 
total  destruction  of  the  Cardinals,  the  priesthood,  of 
religion  itself;  the  seizure  of  the  Pope,  whose  feet 
distant  potentates  crowded  to  kiss  on  his  sublime  func- 
tion of  sacrifice;  the  dragging  him  forth,  loaded 
with  chains,  perhaps  his  death !  The  calmest  looked 
on  the  suppression  of  the  conspiracy  and  the  almost 
total  extirpation  of  the  conspirators  with  satisfiic- 
tion.^ 

Now  came  that  event  which,  however  foreseen  by 
the  few  wiser  prophetic  spirits,  burst  on  Europe  and  on 
Christendom  with  the  stunning  and  appalling  effect  of 
absolute  suddenness  —  the  taking  of  Constantinople  by 
the  Turks.  On  no  two  European  minds  did  this  disas- 
ter work  with  more  profound  or  more  absorbing  terror 
than  on  Pope  Nicolas  V.  and  ^neas  Sylvius:  nor 
Could  any  one  allege  more  sound  reasons  for  that  terror 
than  the  Pope  and  the  Bishop  of  Sienna.  Who  could 
estimate  better  than  ^Sneas,  from  his  intimate  knowl- 

1  L«o  B«ttisU  Albert!.    PoicariA  Gonjimtio  apnd  Ifanitori,  zxr.  p» 

no. 


CBAP.XVn.        TAKIKO  OF  CONSTANTINOPLE.  119 

edge  of  all  the  countries  of  Europe,  of  Italy,  Germany, 
France,  England,  the  extent  of  the  danger  which  im- 
pended over  the  Latin  world  ?  Never  since  its  earlier 
outburst  might  Mohammedanism  seem  so  likely  to  sub- 
jugate if  not  to  swallow  up  distracted  and  disunited 
Christendom,  as  under  the  Turks.  By  sea  and  land 
they  were  equally  formidable.  If  Christendom  should 
resist,  on  what  frontier?  All  were  menaced,  all  in 
danger.  What  city,  what  kingdom,  would  arrest  the 
fierce,  the  perpetual  invasion  ?  From  this  period 
throughout  the  affairs  of  Germany  (at  Frankfort  he 
preached  a  crusade)  to  the  end  of  his  Legatine  power, 
of  his  Cardinalate,  of  his  Papacy,  of  his  life,  this  was 
the  one  absorbing  thought,  one  passion,  of  ^neas  Syl- 
vius. The  immediate  advance  of  the  victorious  Ma- 
hommed  through  Hungary,  Dalmatia,  to  the  border, 
the  centre  of  Italy,  was  stopped  by  a  single  for- 
tress, Belgrade;  by  a  preacher,  John  Capistrano;  by 
a  hero,  John  Huniades.  But  it  was  not  a.b.  1472. 
till,  above  a  century  later,  when  Don  John  of  Aus- 
tria, at  Lepanto  by  sea,  and  John  Sobieski,  before 
Vienna,  by  land,  broke  the  spell  of  Mohammedan 
conquest,  that  Europe  or  Christendom  might  repose 
in  security.^ 

The  death  of  Nicolas  V.  was  hastened,  it  was  said, 
by  the  taking  of  Constantinople.  Grief,  shame,  fear 
worked  on  a  constitution  broken  by  the  gout.  But  Ni- 
colas V-  foresaw  not  that  in  remote  futurity  the  peace- 
ful, not  the  warlike,  consequences  of  the  fall  of  Con- 
stantinople would  be  most  fatal  to  the  Popedom  —  that 
what  was  the  glory  of  Nicolas  V.  would  become  among 
the  foremost  causes  of  the  ruin  of  mediaeval  religion : 

1  Compare  Gibbon,  ch.  Ixrii.  xii.  p.  162. 


120  LATIN  CHRISTIANnT.  Book  XIIL 

that  it  would  aid  in  shaking  to  the  base,  and  in  severing 
forever  the  majestic  unity  of  Latin  Christianity.^ 

1 1  cannot  refrain,  though  my  Histozy  closes  with  Nicolas  V.,  from  sab- 
joining  a  few  sentences  on  the  end  of  JBneas  Sylvius  Piccolomini. 

On  the  death  of  Nicolas  V.,  the  Cardinal  Bessarion,  for  learning,  dignity, 
character,  stood  high  above  the  whole  College  of  Cardinals.  The  election 
had  been  almost  declared  in  his  favor.  The  Cardinal  of  Avignon  was 
seized  with  indignation.  "  Would  they  have  for  a  Pope  a  Greek,  a  recent 
proselyte,  a  man  with  a  beard  ?  Was  the  Latin  Church  fallen  so  low  that 
it  must  have  recourse  to  the  Greeks?  "  The  jealousy  of  the  West  was 
roused :  a  Spaniard,  the  first  of  the  fatal  house  of  Borgia,  was  raised  to  the 
Papal  throne,  Callistus  III.  j£neas  was  at  Frankfort,  pressing  on  reluc- 
tant Germany  a  crusade  against  the  Turks.  The  Germans  thought  more 
of  their  contest  with  the  Pope  than  of  the  security  of  Christendom.  Fred- 
erick III.  was  urged  to  seize  the  opportunity  of  the  election  of  a  new  Pope 
to  assert  the  liberties  of  the  Empire  and  of  the  German  Church,  ^neaa 
averted  the  strife,  and  persuaded  the  Emperor  Uiat  he  had  more  to  hope 
than  fear  from  the  Pope.  He  was  sent  with  the  congratulations  of  the  Em- 
peror to  Callistus  III.  A  promotion  of  Cardinals  was  expected.  The  name 
of  Maeas  was  in  all  men's  mouths :  he  received  congratulations.  The 
Pope  named  but  three,  one  his  nephew,  Borgia,  the  future  Alexander  V£. 
^neas  was  about  to  return  to  Germany,  but  his  presence  was  needed  in 
Italy:  Sienna  was  besieged  by  James  Piccinino :  war  threatened  between 
the  Pope  and  Alfonso  King  of  Naples.  .£neas,  as  ambassador  to  Naples, 
secured  an  honorable  treaty.  The  Pope  would  not  lose,  and  was  obliged 
to  reward  the  indispensable  JSneas.  He  was  created  Cardinal  of  Sienna 
(Dec.  1456). 

So,  without  dishonor  or  ingratitude,  .£neas  Sylvius  was  released  from 
the  service  of  his  Imperial  master.  The  Cardinal  must  devote  himself  to 
the  interests  of  the  Church;  the  Italian  to  those  of  Italy.  He  need  breathe 
no  more  the  thick  and  heavy  air  of  Germany. 

A  year  and  a  half  has  passed,  and  J&neas  Sylvius  Piccolomini  (Aug.  21, 
A.  D.  1458)  is  Pope  Pius  II. 

Few  men  of  more  consumnuite  ability  had  sat  on  the  throne  of  St.  Peter; 
few  meu  more  disposed  to  maintain  the  Papal  power  to  the  height  of  its 
supremacy.  He  boldly,  unreservedly,  absolutely  condemned  the  heretical 
tenets  of  iEneas  Sylvius.  He  reproached  the  King  of  France  for  the  au- 
dacious Pragmatic  Sanction :  it  was  not  less  sacrilegious,  not  less  impious 
than  the  decrees  of  the  Council  of  Basle.  But  Pius  II.  had  the  sagacity  to 
know  that  the  days  of  Innocent  III.  and  Boniface  VII f.  were  passed.  He 
learnt  by  bitter  experience  that  those  too  of  Urban  II.  were  gone  by.  It 
was  not  for  want  of  exertion,  or  of  eloquence  far  surpassing  that  which 
wrapt  the  Council  of  Clermont  to  frenzy,  that  Pius  II.  did  not  array  Chris- 
tendom in  a  more  politic,  more  justifiable  crusade  against  advancing  Mo- 
hammedanism.   Even  the  colder  Council  of  Mantua  seemed  to  kindle  to 


CHAP.XVn.    NICOLAS  A  PATRQN  OF  LETTERS.  121 

Nicolas  Y.  aspired  to  make  Italy  the  domicile,  Rome 
the  capital,  of  letters  and  arts.     As  to  letters,  his  was 

•nthosiasm.  Against  the  Turks  Germany  would  ftimish  42,000  men;  Hmi- 
gary,  20,000  horse,  20,000  foot  Burgundy  6000.  The  Duke  of  Burgundy 
accepted  the  command.  Even  the  Italian  kingdoms,  dukedoms,  republics, 
consented  to  be  assessed.  The  Prince  of  Este  threw  down  300,000  florins. 
Italy  was  to  raise  a  great  fleet;  France  and  Spain  promised  aid. 

The  proclamation  of  the  Universal  League  of  Christendom  might  seem 
a  signid  for  a  general  war  throughout  Christendom.  The  war  of  the  Roses 
raged  in  England;  all  Germany  was  in  arms,  bent  on  civil  strife;  the 
French  fleet  set  sail,  not  against  the  Turks,  but  against  Naples ;  Piccinino 
and  Malatesta  renewed  the  war  in  the  Roman  territory;  the  Savelli  were 
in  insurrection  in  Rome. 

Pope  Pius  was  not  satisfied  with  endeavoring  to  rouse  all  Christendom 
to  a  crusade  against  the  Turks :  he  undertook  a  more  Christian,  if  a  more 
desperate  enterprise,  the  conversion  of  the  Sultan.  He  published  a  long 
elaborate  address  to  Mahomet  II.  Throughout  this  singular  document  the 
tone  is  courteous,  conciliatory,  almost  flattering;  not  till  its  close,  denuu' 
ciatory  ^^inst  the  imposture  of  the  Koran.  "  Nothing  was  wanting  to 
make  Mahomet  the  mightiest  sovereign  the  world  had  ever  seen,  nothing 
but  a  little  water  for  his  baptism,  and  belief  in  the  Gospel.  The  world 
would  bow  down  before  Mahomet  the  Christian  Emperor."  '*  The  great 
Sultan  is  no  careless  Atheist,  no  Epicurean;  he  believes  in  God  and  in  the 
immortality  of  the  soul.  What  has  been  the  end  of  all  great  conquerors, 
—  Semiramis,  Hercules,  Bacchus,  Nebuchadnezzar,  Cyrus,  Alexander, 
Julius  Csesar,  Attila,  Tamerlane  ?  They  are  all  burning  in  the  flames  of 
hell.  Tour  law  allows  all  to  be  saved  by  their  own  religion,  except  rene- 
gades from  Islam;  we  maintain,  on  the  contrary,  that  all  who  believe  not 
oar  creed  must  be  damned.**  From  this  dangerous  argument  the  Pope 
proceeds  to  enlarge  on  the  Christian  as  contrasted  with  the  Mohammedan 
fiuth.  However  justly  he  might  argue  on  Christianity,  the  stem  predesti- 
narians  of  Islam  must  have  been  surprised  at  finding  themselves  charged 
with  supposing  the  world  ruled  by  chance,  not  by  Providence.  There  is 
much  more  strange  lore  on  Mohammedan  superstitions  and  Arabian  priest- 
craft. The  Turks  were  of  a  noble  Scythian  race:  the  Pope  marvels  that 
they  can  fDlIow  Egyptians  and  Arabians  in  their  religion:  Christianity  had 
been  a  far  more  congenial  faith. 

How  strangely,  how  nobly  did  Pius  U.,  at  the  close  of  his  life,  redeem 
tbe  weaknesses,  the  treachery,  the  inconsistency,  the  unblushing  efironteiy 
of  self-interest  of  his  earlier  years.  Pius  II.  was  the  only  Pope  who,  in  his 
deep  and  conscientious  devotion,  would  imperil  his  own  sacred  person  in 
the  Crusade  against  the  Turks,  and  engage  in  a  war,  if  ever  justifiable  in 
a  Pope,  justifiable  when  the  liberty,  the  Christianity  of  Europe  might  seem 
on  the  hazard.  At  Ancona  (a.d.  1463),  amid  the  total  desertion  of  the 
leaders  pledged  to  the  Holy  War;  amid  the  host  of  common  soldiers,  mur- 


122  LATDI  CHmSTIAKITT.  BookXIIL 

not  the  ostentations  patronage  of  a  magnificent  Sov- 
ereign ;  nor  was  it  the  sagacious  policy  which  would 
enslave  to  the  service  of  the  Church  that  of  which  it 
might  anticipate  the  dangerous  rebellion.  It  was  Qot 
the  religion  of  authority  seeking  to  make  itself  master 
of  all  which  might  hereafter  either  confirm  or  contest 
that  authority.  In  Nicolas  it  was  pure  and  genuine, 
almost  innate,  love  of  letters.  In  his  lowlier  station 
the  ambition^  pride,  pleasure,  passion,  avarice  of  Thomas 
of  Sarzana  had  been  tlie  study,  the  collection,  of  books. 
In  every  country  into  which  he  followed  the  train  of 
the  Cardinal  Legate,  his  object  was  the  purchase  of 
manuscripts  or  copies  of  them.  The  Cardinal  di  Santa 
Croce  (Albergati)  encouraged  him  by  his  munificence  ; 
but  the  Cardinal *s  munificence  could  not  keep  pace 
with  the  prodigality  of  his  follower.  In  his  afiluenco 
Thomas  devoted  all  he  possessed  to  the  same  end,  as  in 
his  poverty  his  most  anxious  fear  had  been  lest  he 
should  be  compelled  to  part  with  his  treasures.  So 
great  was  his  reputation,  that  when  Cosmo  de'  Medici 
proposed  to  open  the  Library  of  St.  Marco  at  Flor- 

maring  that  they  had  heen  paid  only  in  Indulgences,  in  which  they  had 
eeased  to  trust,  not  in  hard  money;  a  host  starving  for  want  of  sustenanoi^ 
Which  the  Pope,  once  the  cool  and  politic  statesman,  now  become  a  8ai»> 
gnine,  enthnsiaetic  old  man,  had  not  thought  of  providing;  Pins  II«  alone 
maiDtained  his  courage.  As  the  &ith  of  others  waxed  cold,  his  became 
more  ardent.  He  offered  with  one  of  his  Cardinals  to  embark  and  throw 
himself  into  Ragusa,  threatened  by  the  Turks.  And  this  refined  and  accom- 
plished man  died,  as  Peter  the  Hermit  or  St.  Bernard  might  have  died.  The 
fiuthful  Cardinal  of  Pavia  watched  his  last  moments.  The  sight  of  the  sails 
of  the  Venetian  fleet  had  for  a  moment  kindled  up  all  his  ardor,  but  mads 
him  feel  more  deeply  his  failing  strength.  The  Cardinal  has  described  hit 
end  with  the  tonching  simplicity  of  real  affection  and  reverence.  "  *  Pray 
for  me,  my  son,*  were  his  last  words."  His  friends  bewailed  and  honored 
faim  as  a  martyr  in  the  cause  of  Christianity.* 

•  Oonment.  Gsfd.  Pavieatis,  p.  869. 


CHAP.XVn.   TRANSLATIONS  OF  GREEK  AUTHORS.  123 

ence,  endowed  with  the  books  of  Nicolo  Nicoli,  Thomas 
of  Sarzana  was  requested  to  furnish  a  plan  for  the  ar- 
rangement and  for  the  catalogue.  This  became  the 
model  adopted  in  the  other  great  libraries  —  that  of 
the  Badia  at  Florence,  that  of  the  Count  of  Montefel- 
tro  at  Urbino,  of  Alexander  Sforza  at  Pesaro.  No 
sooner  was  Nicolas  Pope  than  he  applied  himself  to 
the  foundation  of  the  Vatican  Library.  Five  thou- 
sand volumes  were  speedily  collected.  The  wondering 
age  boasted  that  no  such  library  had  existed  since  the 
days  of  the  Ptolemies. 

The  scholars  of  Italy  flocked  to  Rome,  each  to  r^ 
ceive  his  task  from  the  generous  Pope,  who  rewarded 
their  labors  with  ample  payment.  He  seemed  deter- 
mined to  enrich  the  West  with  all  which  survived  of 
Grecian  literature.  The  fall  of  Constantinople,  long 
threatened,  had  been  preceded  by  the  immigration  of 
many  learned  Greeks.  Some,  as  the  Cardinal  Bessa- 
rion,  had  been  naturalized  after  the  Council  of  Flor- 
ence.^ France,  Germany,  even  England,  the  Byzantine 
Empire,  Greece,  had  been  ransacked  by  industrious 
agents  for  copies  of  all  the  Greek  authors.  No  branch 
of  letters  was  without  its  interpreters.  Notwithstand- 
ing the  bold  writings  of  Laurentius  Valla,  who  had 
already  startled  the  world  by  his  discovery  of  the  fraud 
of  Constantino's  donation,  he  was  intrusted  with  the 
translation  of  Herodotus  and  Thucydides.  Poggio 
undertook  the  Cyropaedia  of  Xenophon  and  Diodorus 
Siculus ;  Nicolas  Perotto,  Polybius.  Guarino  of  Ve- 
rona and  Gteorge  of  Tifema,  Strabo,  the  latter  four 
books  of  Dion  Prusaeus,  Pietro  Candido,  Appian. 

1  Cofflpsn  Disqniiiitio  de  Nicolao  V.  Pont.  Max.  erga  literas  et  literariM 
firoB  patrocinio.  Ad  calc.  Vit  Nicol.  V.  a  Dominico  Georgio.  Roma,  1749. 


124  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  Xni. 

Of  the  philosophers,  Perotto  sent  out  the  Enchiri- 
dion of  Epictetus ;  Theodore  of  Gaza  some  of  the 
works  of  Theophrastus,  and  of  Aristotle :  George  of 
Trebisond,  the  Laws  of  Plato.  On  George  of  Trebi- 
sond  was  imposed  the  more  arduous  task,  the  Almagest 
of  Ptolemy.  Lilius  -^gidius  contributed  some  of  the 
works  of  the  Alexandrian  Philo.  From  Rinuccio  of 
Arezzo  came  the  Life  and  Fables  of  ^sop  and  the 
letters  of  Hippocrates ;  from  John  Aurispa,  the  Com- 
mentary of  Hierocles  on  the  golden  verses  of  Pythag- 
oras.. Nicolas  had  an  ardent  desire  to  read  the  two 
great  poems  of  Homer  in  Latin  verse.  They  were 
only  known  by  the  prose  version  of  Leontius  Pilatus, 
executed  under  the  care  of  Boccaccio.  Philelpho, 
whom  the  Pope  had  received  with  eager  cordiality, 
and  bestowed  on  him,  as  a  first  gift,  500  golden  ducats, 
relates,  that  just  before  his  death,  the  Pope  offered  him 
a  fine  palace  in  Rome,  and  farms  in  the  Roman  terri- 
tory, which  would  maintain  his  whole  family  in  ease 
and  honor,  and  to  deposit  ten  thousand  pieces  of  gold, 
to  be  paid  when  he  should  have  finished  the  Iliad  and 
the  Odjrssey.* 

Nor  were  the  Fathers  of  the  Greek  Church  without 
due  honor.  Basil,  the  two  Gregories,  Cyril,  the  Evan- 
gelic Preparation  of  Eusebius  by  George  of  Trebisond, 
a  new  version  of  Dionysius  the  Areopagite,  opened  the 
theology  of  the  Greeks  to  the  inquiring  West.^ 

There  was  not  as  yet  any  awful  apprehension  of  im- 

1  Epist.  Philipp.  quoted  in  the  Disqaisitio,  p.  194.  iBneas  Sylviiu  says 
that  a  certain  Horace  of  Rome  was  employed  on  the  Iliad.  Part  of  the 
flnt  book  in  Latin  verse,  with  a  dedication  to  Nicolas  V.,  is  in  the  Vatican. 

3  Nicolas  obtained  a  copy  of  the  Commentaries  of  Chrysostom  on  St. 
Matthew,  which  had  been  so  rare  in  the  west,  that  Aqoinas  had  said  he 
would  rather  possess  it  than  the  city  of  Paris. 


Chap.  XVH.    PROGRESS  OF  HUMAN  INTELLECT.  126 

pairing  the  sacred  majesty  of  the  Vulgate  Bible.  Ma- 
notti,  a  Florentine,  in  his  day  the  most  famous  for  his 
erudition,  was  authorized  and  urged  to  execute  a  new 
version  of  the  whole  Scriptures  from  the  Hebrew  and 
the  Greek.  He  completed  the  Psalms  from  the  Syriac, 
the  whole  New  Testament,  except  perhaps  the  Acts  of 
the  Apostles. 

Thus  to  Nicolas  V.,  Italy,  or  rather  Latin  Christian- 
ity, mainly  owes  her  age  of  learning,  as  well  as  its  fatal 
consequence  to  Rome  and  to  Latin  Christianity,  which 
in  his  honest  ardor  he  would  be  the  last  to  foresee.  It 
was  the  splendid  vision  of  Nicolas  V.  that  this  revival 
of  letters,  which  in  certain  circles  became  almost  a 
new  religion,  would  not  be  the  bondslave  but  the 
handmaid  or  willing  minister  of  the  old.  Latin  Chris- 
tianity was  to  array  itself  in  all  the  spoils  of  the  ancient 
world,  and  so  maintain  as  a  natural  result  (there  was 
nothing  of  policy  in  his  thought),  and  with  increasing 
and  universal  veneration,  her  dominion  over  the  mind 
of  man.  The  rebellion  of  Letters,  and  the  effects  of 
that  rebellion,  we  must  hereafter  endeavor  to  explain. 

But  Rome  under  Nicolas  V.  was  not  to  be  the  centre 
of  letters  alone,  she  was  to  resume  her  rank  Progmis 

-I  A    A  •   11        /»         1  •    of  human 

as  the  centre  of  Art,  more  especially  or  archi-  intellect. 
tectural  magnificence.  Rome  was  to  be  as  of  old  the 
Lawgiver  of  Civilization ;  pilgrims  from  all  parts  of 
the  world,  from  curiosity,  for  business  or  from  religion, 
were  to  bow  down  before  the  confessed  supremacy  of 
her  splendid  works. 

The  century  from  the  death  of  Boniface  VIII.  to 
the  accession  of  Martin  V.,  during  the  Avignonese 
exile,  and  the  Schism,  had  been  a  period  of  disaster, 
neglect,  decay,  ruin  ;  of  that  slow  creeping,  crumbling 


126  LATIN  CHBTBTUNriT.  Book  Zm. 

ruin,  which  is  perhaps  more  fatal  to  ancient  cities  than 
conflagration,  usually  limited  in  its  ravages,  or  the 
irruption  of  barbarous  enemies,^  Martin  V.  had  made 
some  advances  to  the  restoration  of  the  financial  pros* 
perity  of  the  Popedom  ;  Eugenius  IV.  had  reasserted 
the  endangered  spiritual  aupremacy.  Both  had  paid 
some  attention  to  the  dilapidated  chiurches,  palaces, 
walls  of  the  city.  Under  Nicolas  V.  Rome  aspired 
to  rise  again  at  once  to  her  strength  and  to  her  splen- 
dor. The  Pope  was  to  be  a  great  Sovereign  Prince, 
but  above  the  Sovereign  Prince  he  was  to  be  the  suc- 
cessor of  St.  Peter.  Rome  was  to  be  at  once  the  strong 
citadel,  and  the  noblest  sanctuary  in  the  world,  onas^ 
sailable  by  her  enemies  both  without  and  within  from 
her  fortifications ;  commanding  the  world  to  awe  bj 
the  unrivalled  majesty  of  her  churches.  Th€  Jubilee 
had  poured  enormous  wealth  into  the  Treasury  of  the 
Pope  ;  his  ordinary  revenues,  both  from  the  Papal  terw 
ritory  and  from  Christendom  at  large,  began  to  flow  in 
with  peace  and  with  the  revival  of  his  authority.  That 
wealth  was  all  expended  with  the  most  liberal  magnif- 
icence. Already  had  it  dawned  upon  the  mind  of 
Nicolas  y.  that  the  Cathedral  of  the  Chief  of  die 
Apostles  ought  to  rival,  or  to  surpass  all  the  churches 
in  Clmstendom  in  vastness  and  majesty.  It  was  to  be 
entirely  rebuilt  from  its  foundations.^  Jnlras  II.  and 
Leo  X.  did  but  accomplish  the  design  of  Nicolas  V* 

1  Read  Petrarch's  well-known  letter  —Gibbon.  Bonsen  and  PUtner, 
Roms  Be)K;hreibung. 

«  GeorjK^io,  in  his  Life  of  Nicolas  V.,  says  (p.  166),  Banlicam  vero  8t. 
P«tri  Priacipis  Apostolontm  a  fondaraentia  magnifice  inchoare  ei  peifioeif 
meditabatur.  In  the  Life  of  Manetti  (Muratori,  L  B.  T.)  vol.  iii.  is  a  long 
description  of  the  plan  of  the  church,  and  the  design  of  the  Pope.  See 
alao  Bonpumi  TempU  Yaticani  Historia,  c  xL,  with  the  refeiencea. 


Cbap.ZVII.  ST.  PETER'S.  127 

Had  Nicolas  lived,  Bramante  and  Michael  Angelo 
might  have  been  prematarely  anticipated  bj  Rosellini 
of  Florence  and  Leo  Battista  Alberti.  He  had  even 
erected  an  august  and  spacious  Tribune,  to  be  swept 
away  with  the  rest  of  the  building  by  his  bolder  and 
more  ambitious  successors.  The  mosaic  pavement  in 
tlie  apse,  begnn  by  Nicolas  Y.,  was  completed  by 
Paul  II.,  at  the  cost  of  more  than  5000  pieces  of 
gold.i 

By  the  side,  and  under  the  shadow  of  this  noblest  of 
churches,  the  Supreme  Pontiff  was  to  have  his  most 
stately  palace.  The  Lateran,  and  the  Palace  near  St. 
Maria  Maggiore,  sumptuously  restored  by  Nicolas  V«, 
were  to  bow  before  this  more  glorious  edifice.  The 
description  may  still  be  read  of  its  spacious  courts,  its 
eool  green  gardens,  its  dashing  fountains,  its  tlieatre, 
its  hall  for  public  ceremonies,  for  the  conclave  and  the 
Pontifical  coronation,  the  treasury,  the  library;  this 
chamber,  perhaps  as  dearest  to  the  tastes  of  Nicolas,  was 
the  first  part,  if  not  the  only  part  achieved. 

The  Palace  had  its  three  stories  for  sammer,  for  win- 
ter, and  for  spring,  even  to  the  offices  and  kitchens.^ 
The  Cardinals  were  to  dwell  around  the  Pope,  if  in 
less  lofty,  yet  sdll  in  noble  Palaces.  The  Vatican  was 
to  be  the  Capital  of  the  Capital  of  Christendom.  The 
whole  Leonine  city,  which  had  too  long  lain  almost 
open  to  the  invading  stranger,  and  was  not  safe  from 
the  turbulent  Romans,  was  to  expand  in  security  as 
well  as  splendor  around  the  residence  of  St.  Peter  and 
liifi  successors.  The  bridge  of  St.  Angelo  was  bordered 
with  turrets  for  defence  and  ornament ;  the  Castle  of 
St.  Angelo,  the  citadel  which  commanded  the  bridge, 

1  Georgio,  p.  167.  >  In  Manetti^s  Life  of  Nicolas  Y. 


128  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XHI. 

was  strengthened  by  outward  bulwarks,  and  by  four 
towers  at  the  comers,  within  laid  out  into  halls  and 
chambers.  It  was  connected  by  strong  walls  with  the 
Vatican ;  a  huge  tower  began  to  rise,  the  commence- 
ment of  formidable  works  of  defence  beyond  the  gar- 
dens of  the  Vatican.  From  the  bridge  of  St.  Angelo 
three  broad  streets,  with  open  porticoes,  and  shops 
within  them,  were  to  radiate ;  the  central  one  led 
direct  to  the  portico  of  St.  Peter's,  before  which  Ni- 
colas V.  designed  to  set  up  the  famous  obelisk,  which 
Sixtus  V.  at  infinite  cost,  and  with  all  the  science 
of  Fontana,  hardly  succeeded  in  placing  on  its  base. 
The  street  to  the  left'  ran  along  the  Tiber ;  that  to  the 
right,  to  the  Vatican  and  the  Palatine  Grate. 

Nor  did  the  PontiflF  design  to  expend  all  his  munifi- 
cence on  St.  Peter's  and  the  Vatican.  Decay,  from 
violence  or  want  of  repair,  had  fallen  on  the  forty 
churches  called  the  Stations,  visited  by  the  more  sol- 
emn processions,  especially  those  which,  with  St.  Pe- 
ter's, made  the  more  Holy  Seven,  the  Lateran,  St. 
Maria  Maggiore,  St.  Stephen  on  Monte  Celio,  the 
Apostles,  St.  Paul  and  St.  Lorenzo  beyond  the  walls. 
All  shared  more  or  less  in  his  restoring  bounty.  Three 
other  churches,  St.  Maria  beyond  the  Tiber,  St.  Theo- 
dore, St.  Prassede  were  rebuilt;  the  Pantheon,  now 
consecrated  to  the  Virgin  and  all  Saints,  was  covered 
with  a  roof  of  lead. 

The  Pontiff  would  secure  the  city  from  foreign  foes, 
who  for  centuries,  either  through  the  feuds,  the  perfidy, 
or  the  turbulence  of  the  Romans  themselves,  or  from 
their  own  ambition  or  hostility,  had  desolated  the  city. 
In  the  whole  circuit,  from  the  Porta  Flumentana  to  the 
Pyramid  of  Cestius,  and  so  all  round  the  city,  the  walls 


Chap.  XVn.  BUILDINGS  OF  NICOLAS  V.  129 

were  strengthened,  towers  erected,  fosses  deepened. 
The  Capitol  was  restored  to  its  ancient  strength  and 
solidity.  In  order  to  convey  his  building  materials  to 
the  city,  perhaps  provisions,  he  cleansed  the  channel  of 
the  Anio;  he  repaired  the  stately  aqueduct  which 
brought  the  Acqua  Vergine  to  the  Fountain  of  Trevi. 
He  restored  the  Milvian  bridge. 

The  munificence  of  Nicolas  confined  not  itself  to 
Rome.  Everywhere  in  the  Roman  territory  rose 
churches,  castles,  public  edifices.  Already  the  splen- 
did church  of  St.  Francis,  at  Assisi,  wanted  repair: 
Nicolas  built  a  church  dedicated  to  St.  Francis,  at  his 
favored  town  of  Fabriano ;  one  at  Gualdo  in  Umbria, 
to  St.  Benedict.  Among  his  princely  works  was  a  cas- 
tle at  Fabriano,  great  buildings  at  Centumcellae,  the 
walls  of  Civita  Castellana,  a  citadel  at  Narni,  with  bul* 
warks  and  deep  fosses;  another  at  Civita  Yecchia; 
baths  near  Viterbo ;  buildings  for  ornament  and  for 
defence  at  Spoleto.^ 

The  younger  Arts,  Sculpture  and  Painting  began 
under  his  auspices  still  further  to  improve.  Fra  An- 
gelico  painted  at  Rome  at  the  special  command  or 
request  of  Nicolas  V. 

Nicolas  v.,  on  his  death-bed,  communicated  to  the 
Cardinals,  who  stood  around  in  respectfiil  sorrow,  his 
last  Will  and  Testament.     This  solemn  appeal,  as  it 

1  On  the  astonishment  and  admiration  excited  by  the  buildings  of  Nico- 
las v.,  read  the  passages  of  ^neas  Sylvius,  Vit  Frederic.  III.  **  Quantum 
▼ero  aniino  hie  valeret,  et  quam  vastus  sit  ejus  animus,  ejus  sedificia  mon- 
strant,  quo  nemo  aut  magnificentius  aut  celerius  aut  splendidius  quam  ipse 
edificavit.  Nam  turres  et  muri  per  eum  constructi  nulli  priscorum  arte 
yd  magnitadiiM  cednnt.''  —  P.  18S.  **  Namque  ut  priscorum  Cae^amm 
molfls  toluis  urbis  stmctura  superat,  sic  sedificia  Nicolai  Papao,  quicquid 
nbiqoe  esset,  modem!  laboris  excellnnt"  —  P.  282.  The  Emperor  Fred- 
erick, himself  an  excellent  architect,  stood  in  amazement. 

▼OL.  YXU.  9 


130  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XHI. 

were,  to  God  and  man,  after  a  copious  and  minute  con- 
fession of  faith,  turned  to  his  architectural  works. 
These  holy  and  worldly  edifices  he  had  raised  not  from 
ambition,  from  pride,  from  vainglory,  or  for  the  per- 
petuation of  his  name,  but  for  two  great  ends,  the 
maintenance  of  the  authority  of  the  Church  of  Rome, 
and  her  more  commanding  dignity  above  all  Christian 
people,  as  well  as  her  security  against  lawless  persecu- 
tion. The  majesty  of  such  sacred  imperishable  monu- 
ments profoundly  impresses  the  mind  of  man  with  the 
perpetuity,  the  eternity  of  religion.  As  to  the  secular 
buildings,  the  walls,  towers,  citadels,  he  recounts  the 
dangers,  the  persecutions  of  Popes  from  early  days; 
Popes  insulted,  Popes  dethroned.  Popes  imprisoned, 
Popes  banished,  Popes  murdered,  from  Eugenius  II. 
through  all  the  darker  ages,  down  to  the  conspiracy  of 
Stephen  Porcaro  against  himself.  These  were  his  mo- 
tives for  the  conception  and  execution  of  so  many 
sumptuous  and  so  solid  edifices.  He  proceeds  to  that 
sad  burden  on  his  weary  soul,  the  taking  of  Constanti- 
nople. He  boasts  with  some,  but  surely  blameless 
pride,  of  the  peace  of  Italy ;  he  had  restrained,  allayed, 
appeased  the  fierce  wars  among  all  the  Princes  and  all 
the  Republics.^ 

Nor  does  he  speak  with  less  satisfaction  or  delight  of 
his  own  labors  in  the  cause  of  Letters ;  the  purchase  of 
books,  the  copying  of  manuscripts,  the  encouragement 
of  scholars ;  he  appeals  to  the  personal  knowledge  of 
the  Cardinals,  to  the  world,  even  to  higher  judgment. 


1  **  BeHa  ipsa,  qnibus  nndiqae  firementibus  jampridem  tota  hinc  inde  Italia 
▼ezabatnr,  ita  compescnimus,  ita  deniqne  sedavimnii,  ut  omnes  Prindpes, 
Baspublicas,  et  ItaloB  Populos  ad  mazimam  concordiam  sammamque  pa- 
oem  indaceremus.'* 


Chap.  XVn.  TRAITS  OF  NICOLAS  V.  181 

on  his  acquisition  and  his  employment  of  the  wealth  of 
the  Pontificate:  "all  these  and  every  other  kind  of 
treasure,  were  not  accumulated  hy  avarice,  not  by 
simony,  not  by  largesses,  not  by  parsimony,  as  ye 
know ;  but  only  through  the  grace  of  the  most  merci- 
ful Creator,  the  peace  of  the  Church,  and  the  perpetual 
tranquillity  of  my  Pontificate."  ^ 

Thus  in  Nicolas  V.  closed  one  great  age  of  the  Pa- 
pacy. In  Nicolas  the  Sovereign  Italian  Prince  and  the 
Pontiff  met  in  serene  and  amicable  dignity ;  he  had  no 
temptation  to  found  a  princely  family.  But  before  long 
the  Pontiff  was  to  be  lost  in  the  Sovereign  Prince.  Nor 
was  it  less  evident  that  the  exclusive  dominion  of  Latin 
Christianity  was  drawing  to  a  close,  though  nearly  a 
century  might  elapse  before  the  final  secession  of  Teu- 
tonic Christianity,  and  the  great  permanent  division  of 
Christendom.  Each  successive  Pontificate  might  seem 
determined  to  advance,  to  hasten  that  still  slow  but 
inevitable  revolution;  the  audacious  nepotism  of  Six- 
tus  IV.,  the  wickednesses  of  Alexander  VI.,  which 
defy  palliation ;  the  wars  of  Julius  II.,  with  the  hoary 
Pope  at  the  head  of  ferocious  armies ;  the  political  in- 
trigues and  disasters  of  Clement  VII. 

1  "Hsc  omnia  pleraque  alia  divitiarnm  et  gazanun  genera  nobis  non  ex 
ayariti&,  non  ex  simoni&f  non  ex  largitionibus,  non  ex  paraimonift  ut  scitis, 
aed  ex  divin4  dantaxat  benigniasimi  Creatoris  gratis,  et  ex  pace  Ecclesiastic^ 
perpetudqae  Pontificatus  noster  tranqnillitate  provenisse  non  dubitamus.** 
—  Ibid.  Manetti  seems  to  assert  that  tiiis  long  testament  was  read  by  the 
dying  Pope.  The  improbability  of  this  throws  no  doubt  on  its  authen- 
ticity 


182  LATIN  CHBISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 


BOOK     XIV. 


CHAPTER   I. 

SURVEY. 

Fbom  the  reign  of  Nicolas  V.  and  the  close  of  our 
history,  as  from  a  high  vantage  ground,  we  must  survey 
the  whole  realm  of  Latin  Christendom  —  the  political 
and  social  state,  as  far  as  the  relation  of  Latin  Christi<- 
anity  to  the  great  mass  of  mankind,  the  popular  religion, 
with  its  mythology;  the  mental  development  in  phi- 
losophy, letters,  arts. 

Eight  centuries  and  a  half  had  elapsed  since  the 
Pontificate  of  Gregory  the  Great  —  the  epoch  of  the 
supreme  dominion  of  Latin  Christianity  in  the  West. 
The  great  division  of  mankind,  which  at  that  time  had 
become  complete  and  absolute,  into  the  clergy  (includ- 
ing the  monks,  in  later  days  the  friars)  and  the  rest  of 
mankind,  still  subsisted  in  all  its  rigorous  force.  They 
were  two  castes,  separate  and  standing  apart  as  by  the 
irrepealable  law  of  God.  They  were  distinct,  adverse, 
even  antagonistic,  in  their  theory  of  life,  in  their  laws, 
in  their  corporate  property,  in  their  rights,  in  their  im- 
munities. In  the  aim  and  object  of  their  existence,  in 
their  social  duties  and  position,  they  were  set  asunder 
by  a  broad,  deep,  impassable  line.  But  the  ecclesiasti- 
cal caste  being  bound,  at  least  by  its  law,  to  celibacy, 


Chap.  L  BUBYXY.  188 

in  general  conld  not  perpetuate  its  race  in  the  ordinary 
course  of  nature;  it  was  renewed  by  drawing  forth 
from  the  laitj  men  either  endowed  with  or  supposed  to 
be  trained  to  a  peculiar  mental  turn,  those  in  whom  the 
intellectual  capacity  predominated  over  the  physical 
force.  Religion,  which  drove  many  out  of  the  world 
within  the  sacred  circle,  might  be  a  sentiment,  a  pash 
sion,  an  unthinking  and  unreasoning  impulse  of  the 
inward  being :  holy  ignorance  might  be  the  ambition, 
the  boast,  of  some  monks,  and  of  the  lower  friars ;  but 
in  general  the  commission  to  teach  the  religion  implied 
(though  itself  an  infused  gift  or  grace,  and  the  insepa* 
rable  consequence  of  legitimate  consecration  to  the 
office)  some  superiority  of  mind.  At  all  events  the 
body  was  to  be  neglected,  sacrificed,  subdued,  in  order 
that  the  inner  being  might  ripen  to  perfection.  The 
occupations  of  the  clergy  were  to  be  in  general  seden- 
tary, peaceful,  quiescent.  Their  discipline  tended  still 
further  to  sift,  as  it  were,  this  more  intellectual  class : 
the  dull  and  negligent  sunk  into  the  lower  offices,  or, 
if  belonging  by  their  aristocratic  descent  to  the  higher, 
they  obtained  place  and  influence  only  by  their  race 
and  connections,  wealth  and  rank  by  unclerical  powers 
of  body  and  of  mind.  These  were  ecclesiastics  by 
profession,  temporal  princes,  even  soldiers,  by  charact^ 
and  life.  But  this,  according  to  the  strict  theory  of  the 
clerical  privilege,  was  an  abuse,  an  usurpation.  Almost 
all  minds  which  were  gifted  with  or  conscious  of  great 
intellectual  capacity,  unless  kings,  or  nobles,  or  knights, 
whose  talents  might  lead  to  military  distinction,  ap-» 
peared  predestined  for,  were  irresistibly  drawn  into, 
or  were  dedicated  by  their  prescient  parents  or  guar- 
dians to  the  Church.   The  younger  sons,  especially  the 


184  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

illegitimate  sons,  even  of  kings,  far  more  of  princes  and 
nobles,  were  devoted,  as  the  Church  became  wealthy 
and  powerful,  to  this  career  as  a  provision.  But  even 
with  this  there  either  was,  or  according  to  general 
opinion  there  ought  to  have  been,  some  vocation  and 
some  preparation :  many  of  these  were  among  the 
ablest,  some  even  among  the  most  austere  and  pious  of 
churchmen.  The  worst,  if  they  did  not  bring  the 
more  fitting  qualifications,  brought  connection,  famous 
names  (in  feudal  times  of  great  importance),  and  thus 
welded  together,  as  it  were,  the  Church  with  the 
State. 

Education,  such  as  it  was  (and  in  many  cases  for  the 
idiicatioii.  times  it  was  a  high  education),  had  become, 
with  rare  exceptions,  their  exclusive  privilege.  Who- 
ever had  great  capacities  or  strong  thirst  for  knowledge 
could  neither  obtain  nor  employ  it  but  in  the  peaceful 
retirement,  under  the  sacred  character,  with  the  special 
advantages  of  the  churchman,  or  in  the  cloister.  The 
whole  domain  of  the  human  intellect  was  their  posses- 
sion. The  universities,  the  schools,  were  theirs,  and 
theirs  only.  There  the  one  strife  was  between  the 
secular  clergy  and  the  regulars  —  the  monks,  or  the 
friars  the  disciples  of  St.  Dominic  and  St.  Francis. 
They  were  the  canon  lawyers,  and  for  some  centuries, 
as  far  as  it  was  known  or  in  use,  the  teachers  and  pro^ 
fessors  of  the  civil  law.  They  were  the  historians,  the 
poets,  the  philosophers.  It  was  the  first  omen  of  their 
endangered  supremacy  that  the  civil  lawyers  in  France 
rose  against  them  in  bold  rivalry.  When  in  the  Em- 
pire the  study  of  the  old  Roman  law  developed  princi- 
ples of  greater  antiquity,  therefore,  it  was  asserted,  of 
greater  authority  than  the  canon  law,  it  was  at  once  a 


cshap.l  intellectual  education.  136 

aign  and  a  proof  that  their  absolute  dominion  was 
drawing  towards  its  close  —  that  human  intellect  was 
finding  another  road  to  distinction  and  power.  Physi- 
cal science  alone,  in  general,  though  witli  some  famous 
exceptions,  they  unwisely  declined:  they  would  not 
risk  the  popular  suspicion  of  magical  and  forbidden 
arts  —  a  superstition  which  themselves  indulged  and 
encouraged.  The  profound  study  of  the  human  body 
was  thought  inconsistent  with  the  fastidious  modesty  of 
their  profession.^  The  perfection  of  medicine  and  of 
all  cognate  inquiries,  indeed  in  general  of  natural  phi- 
losophy itself,  was  left  to  Jews  and  Arabs :  the  great 
schools  of  medicine,  Montpellier  and  Salerno,  as  they 
derived  their  chief  wisdom  from  these  sources,  so  they 
freely  admitted  untonsured,  perhaps  unbaptized  stu- 
dents. It  is  difficult  to  calculate  the  extent  of  this 
medical  influence,  which  must  have  worked,  if  in  se- 
cret, still  with  great  power.  The  jealousy  and  hatred 
with  which  Jews  or  supposed  unbelievers  are  seen  at 
the  courts  of  kings  is  a  secret  witness  to  that  influence. 
At  length  we  find  the  king's  physician,  as  under  Louis 
XI.,  the  rival  in  authority  of  the  king's  confessor.  In 
this  alone  the  hierarchical  caste  does  not  maintain 
its  almost  exclusive  dominion  over  all  civil  as  well  as 
ecclesiastical  transactions. 

For  it  is  not  only  from  their  sacred  character,  but 
from  their  intellectual  superiority,  that  they  are  in  the 
courts,  in  the  councils,  of  kings  ;  that  they  are  the  ne- 
gotiators, the  ambassadors  of  sovereigns ;  they  alone 
can  read  and  draw  up  state  papers,  compacts,  treaties, 

1  The  observant  Chaucer  gives  the  conyerse.  Physicians  were  then  un- 
der the  evil  fame  of  irreligion.  "  His  studie  was  but  littel  on  the  Bible." 
Prologue  on  the  Doctor  of  Physiqae. 


186  LATIN  CHBISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

or  &ame  laws.  Writing  is  almost  their  special  mys- 
tery ;  the  notaries,  if  not  tonsured,  as  they  mostly  were, 
are  directed,  ordered  by  the  Clergy :  they  are  in  gen- 
eral the  servants  and  agents  of  ecclesiastics.  In  every 
kingdom  of  Europe  the  Clergy  form  one  of  the  estates, 
balance  or  blindly  lead  the  nobles ;  and  this  too  not 
merely  as  churchmen  and  enrolled  in  the  higher  service 
of  God,  but  from  their  felt  and  acknowledged  preem- 
inence in  the  administration  of  temporal  afiairs. 

To  this  recognized  intellectual  superiority,  arising  out 
of  the  power  of  selecting  the  recruits  for  their  army 
according  to  their  mental  stature,  their  sole  possession 
of  the  discipline  necessary  to  train  such  men  fur  their 
loftier  position,  and  the  right  of  choosing,  as  it  were, 
their  officers  out  of  this  chosen  few  —  must  be  added 
their  spiritual  authority,  their  indefeasible  power  of 
predeclaring  the  eternal  destiny  of  every  living  layman. 

To  doubt  the  sentence  of  that  eternal  destiny  was 
now  an  effort  of  daring  as  rare  as  it  was  abhorrent  to 
the  common  sense  of  men.  Those  who  had  no  relig- 
ion had  superstition ;  those  who  believed  not  trembled 
and  were  silent ;  the  speculative  unbeliever,  if  there 
were  such,  shrouded  himself  in  secrecy  from  mankind, 
even  from  himself:  the  unuttered  lawless  thought  lay 
deep  in  his  own  heart.  Those  who  openly  doubted  the 
unlimited  power  of  the  clergy  to  absolve  were  sects, 
outcasts  of  society,  proscribed  not  only  by  the  detesta- 
tion of  the  clergy,  but  by  the  popular  hatred.  The 
keys  of  heaven  and  hell  were  absolutely  in  the  hands 
of  the  priesthood  —  even  more,  in  this  life  they  were 
not  without  influence.  In  the  events  of  war,  in  the 
distribution  of  earthly  misery  or  blessing,  abundance 
or  famine,  health  or  pestilence,  they  were  the  ^ter- 


gbap.i.  spmrruAL  power.  187 

cessors  with  the  saints,  as  the  saints  were  intercessors 
with  heaven.  They  were  invested  in  a  kind  of  omni- 
science. Confession,  since  the  decree  of  the  Lateran 
Council  under  Innocent  III.,  an  universal,  obligatory, 
indispensable  duty,  laid  open  the  whole  heart  of  every 
one,  from  the  Emperor  to  the  peasant,  before  the  priest- 
hood ;  the  entire  moral  being  of  man,  undistinguish- 
able  from  his  religious  being,  was  under  their  super- 
vision and  control,  asserted  on  one  side,  acknowledged 
on  the  other.  No  act  was  beyond  their  cognizance,  no 
act,  hardly  any  thought,  was  secret.  They  were  at 
once  a  government  and  a  police,  to  which  every  one 
was  bound  to  inform  against  himself,  to  be  the  agent  of 
the  most  rigid  self-delation,  to  endure  the  closest  scru- 
tiny, to  be  denied  the  least  evasion  or  equivocation, 
to  be  submitted  to  the  moral  torture  of  menaced,  of 
dreaded  damnation  if  he  concealed  or  disguised  the 
truth,  to  undergo  the  most  crushing,  humiliating  pen- 
ance. Absolution,  after  which  the  soul  thirsted  with 
insatiable  thirst,  might  be  delayed,  held  in  suspense, 
refused ;  if  granted  it  was  of  inestimable  price.  The 
sacraments,  absolutely  necessary  to  spiritual  life,  were 
at  their  disposal.  Baptism  to  the  infant  would  hardly 
be  refused ;  but  the  Eucharist,  Christ  himself  offered 
on  the  altar,  God  made  by  consecrated  hands,  God  mar 
terialized  down  to  the  rudest  apprehension,  could  be 
granted  or  withheld  according  to  the  arbitrary,  irre- 
sponsible judgment  of  the  priest.  The  body,  after 
death,  might  repose  in  consecrated  ground  with  the 
saints,  or  be  cast  out,  to  be  within  the  domain,  the  un- 
contested prey  of  devils.  The  Excommunication  cut 
the  man  off,  whatever  his  rank  or  station,  from  the 
Church,  beyond  whose  pale  was  utter  impossibiUty  of 


138  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV 

salvation.  No  one  could  presume  to  have  hope  for  a 
man  who  died  under  excommunication.  Such  were  the 
mculcated,  by  most  recognized,  at  least  apprehended, 
doctrines.  The  Interdict,  the  special  prerogative  of 
the  Pope,  as  the  antagonist,  the  controller  of  Sover- 
eigns, smote  a  kingdom  with  spiritual  desolation,  dur- 
ing which  the  niggardly  and  imperfect  rites,  the  baptism 
sparingly  administered,  the  rest  of  the  life  without  any 
religious  ceremony,  the  extreme  unction  or  the  last 
sacrament  coldly  vouchsafed  to  the  chosen  few,  the 
church-yard  closed  against  the  dead,  seemed  to  consign 
a  whole  nation,  a  whole  generation,  to  irrevocable  pei^ 
dition. 

Thus  throughout  the  world  no  man  could  stand 
alone  ;  the  priest  was  the  universal  lord  of  the  univer* 
sal  human  conscience.  The  inward  assurance  of  faith, 
of  rectitude,  of  virtue,  of  love  of  man  or  love  of  God, 
without  the  ratification  of  the  confessor ;  the  witness 
of  the  spirit  within,  unless  confirmed,  avouched  by  the 
priest,  was  nothing.  Without,  the  passport  to  everlast- 
ing life,  everlasting  life  must  recede  from  the  hopes, 
from  the  attainment  of  man.  And  by  a  strange  yet 
perhaps  unavoidable  anomaly,  the  sacredness  of  the 
priest  was  inalienable,  indelible,  altogether  irrespective 
of  his  life,  his  habits,  his  personal  holiness  or  unholi- 
ness.  There  might  be  secret  murmurs  at  the  avarice, 
pride,  licentiousness  of  the  priest :  public  opinion  might 
even  in  some  cases  boldly  hold  him  up  to  shame  and 
obloquy,  he  was  still  priest,  bishop,  pope ;  his  sacra- 
ments lost  not  their  efficacy,  his  verdict  of  condemna- 
tion or  absolution  was  equally  valid  ;  all  the  acts  of 
John  XXIII.,  till  his  depiisal,  were  the  acts  of  the  suc- 
cessor of  St.  Peter.     And  if  this  triumph  over  the 


Chip.  I.  MONKS  AND  FRIAB8.  139 

latent  moral  indignation  of  mankind  was  the  manifes- 
tation of  its  strength,  so  its  oppugnancj  to  that  indig- 
nation was  its  fall ;  it  was  the  premonition,  the  procla* 
mation  of  its  silent  abrogation  in  the  hearts  of  men. 
The  historian  lias  to  state  the  iact,  rather  than  curiously 
and  judicially  to  balance  the  good  and  evil  (for  good 
there  undoubtedly  was,  vast  good  in  such  ages  of  class 
tyrannizing  over  class,  of  unintermitting  war  on  a  wide 
or  a  narrow  scale,  of  violence,  lawlessness,  brutality) 
in  this  universal  sacerdotal  domination. 

It  is  impossible  to  estimate  the  fluctuating  proportion 
between  these  two  castes  of  the  Christian  jj^q^  ^n^i 
population  to  each  other.  The  number  of  ''*^' 
the  Secular  Clergy  was  of  course,  to  a  certain  extent, 
limited  by  the  spiritual  wants  of  the  community  and  the 
means  of  maintenance.  But  it  comprehended  within 
the  saci'ed  circle  of  immunity  and  privilege  a  vast  host 
of  unenroUed  and  subordinate  retainers,  those  who  had 
received  for  some  purpose  of  their  own,  some  who  in 
the  ruder  ages  had  been  compelled  to  take  the  simple 
tonsure,  some  admitted  to  what  were  called  the  lower 
orders,  and  who  in  all  large  churches,  as  sub-deacons, 
acolytes,  singers,  were  very  numerous,  down  to  those 
who  held  more  menial  offices,  sacristans,  beadles,  ser- 
vants of  all  classes.  But  there  was  absolutely  nothing 
to  limit  the  number  of  Monks,  still  less  that  of  the 
Friars  in  their  four  Orders,  especially  the  disciples  of 
St.  Dominic  and  St.  Francis.  No  one  was  too  poor  or 
too  low  to  become  a  privileged  and  sacred  Mendicant. 
No  qualification  was  necessary  but  piety  or  its  sem- 
blance, and  that  might  too  easily  be  imitated.  While 
these  Orders  in  the  Universities  boasted  of  the  most 
erudite  and  subtile,  and  all-accomplished  of  the  School- 


140  LATm  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV 

men,  they  could  not  disdain  or  altogether  reject  those 
who  in  the  spirit,  at  least  of  one  of  their  Foundera, 
maintained  the  superiority  of  holy  ignorance.  Instead 
of  being  amazed  that  the  Friars  swarmed  in  such  hordes 
over  Christendom,  it  is  rather  wonderful  that  the  whole 
abject  and  wretched  peasantry,  leather  than  be  trampled 
to  the  earth,  or  maddened  to  Flagellantism,  Jacquerie, 
or  Communism,  did  not  all  turn  able-bodied  religious 
Beggars,  so  the  strong  English  sense  of  Wycliffe  desig- 
nates the  great  mass  of  the  lower  Franciscans  in  En^ 
land.  The  Orders  themselves,  as  was  natural  when 
they  became  wealthy  and  powei'fid,  must  have  repressed 
rather  than  encouraged  the  enrolment  of  such  persons ; 
instead  of  prompting  to  the  utmost,  they  must  have 
made  it  a  distinction,  a  di£Sculty,  a  privilege,  to  be 
allowed  to  enter  upon  the  enjoyment  of  their  compar- 
atiyely  easy,  roving,  not  by  all  accounts  too  severe  life. 
To  the  serf  inured  to  the  scanty  fitre  and  not  infre- 
quent famine,  the  rude  toil  and  miserable  lodging ;  and 
to  the  peasant  with  his  skin  hard  to  callousness  and  his 
weather-beaten  frame,  the  fast,  the  maceration,  even 
the  flagellation  of  the  Friar,  if  really  religious  (and  to 
the  religious  these  self-inflicted  miseries  were  not  with* 
out  their  gratification),  must  have  been  no  very  rigor- 
ous exchange ;  while  the  freedom  to  the  serf,  the  power 
of  wandering  from  the  soil  to  which  he  was  bound 
down,  the  being  his  own  property,  not  that  of  another, 
must  have  been  a  strong  temptation.  The  door  must 
have  been  closed  with  some  care ;  some  stem  examina- 
tion, probation,  or  inquiry,  must  have  preceded  the 
initiation  and  the  adoption  of  brethren  into  the  frater- 
nity, or  the  still  enlarging  houses  had  been  too  narrow ; 
they  would  have  multiplied  into  unmanageable  num* 


Obaf.  l  friabs.  141 

bers.  Yet,  if  more  cold  and  repulsive  in  the  admission 
of  those  iinmbler  yotaries,  the  protests  of  the  Universi- 
ties, and  other  proofs,  show  that  the  more  promising 
and  higher  yoath  were  sought  with  ardent  proselytr 
ism.^ 

The  property,  especially  the  territorial  and  landed 
property  of  the  Hierarchy  and  the  Monastic  Orders,  it 
is  equally  impossible  to  estimate.  It  varied,  of  course, 
in  different  ages,  and  in  every  kingdom  in  Christen- 
dom. Nor  if  we  knew  at  any  one  time  the  proportion- 
ate extent  of  Church  lands  to  that  not  under  mortmain, 
would  it  be  any  measure,  or  any  sure  criterion,  of  their 
rdative  value.  This  property,  instead  of  standing 
secure  in  its  theoretic  inalienability,  was  in  a  constant 
fluctuation :  the  Papal  territory  itself  was  frequently 
during  the  darker  centuries  usurped,  recovered,  granted 
away,  resumed.  Throughout  Christendom  the  legal 
inalienability  of  Church  lands  was  perpetually  assailed 
in  earlier  times  by  bold  depredators,  and  baffled  by  in- 
genious devices  of  granting  away  the  usufruct.  We 
have  heard  perpetual  complaints  against  these  kinds  of 
endowments  of  their  sons  or  descendants  by  the  mar- 
ried clergy ;  the  unmarried  yet  dissolute  or  extravagant 
beneficiaries,  were  no  doubt  as  regardless  of  the  sanc- 
tity of  ecclesiastical  property,  and  as  subtle  in  convey- 
ing away  its  value  to  their  kinsmen,  or  for  their  own 
immediate  advantage.  Besides  all  these  estates,  held 
in  absolute  property,  was  the  tithe  of  the  produce  of 

1  On  the  degenerate  state  ti  the  Frinn  the  serious  prose  and  the  satiri- 
oal  poetrj  are  fall  of  details.  Read  too  the  Supplication  of  Beggars  (a 
later  productionf  temp.  Henry  Vm.))  and  the  inimitable  Colloquies  of 
Brasmus.  One  of  the  reasons  alleged  at  the  Council  of  Trent  against  sab> 
mitting  the  regulars  to  episcopal  discipline  was  their  **  numero  ecoessiyo.*' 
—  Sarpi,  111.  p.  15S.  Ed.  Helmstadt 


142  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

all  Other  landsJ  The  whole  sacerdotal  system  of  Latin 
Christianity,  first  from  analogy,  afterwards  %ls  direct 
precedent,  assumed  all  the  privileges,  powers,  rights, 
endowments  of  the  Levitical  priesthood ;  and  thus  ai^ 
raying  itself  in  the  irrefragable  authority  of  God's 
older  Word,  of  which  it  did  not  acknowledge  the  abro- 
gation where  its  interests  were  so  nearly  concerned, 
claimed  the  tithe  as  of  inherent,  perpetual,  divine  law. 
From  an  early  period  Christians  had  been  urged  to  de- 
vote this  proportion  of  their  wealth  to  religious  uses; 
a  proportion  so  easy  and  natural  that  it  had  prevailed, 
and  had  obtained  a  prescriptive  authority,  as  the  rule 
of  sacred  oblation  to  the  temples  among  the  customs 
of  many  Heathen  nations.^  The  perpetual  claim  to 
tithes  was  urged  by  Councils  and  by  Popes  in  the  sixth 
century.  Charlemagne  throughout  his  empire.  King 
Ethelwolf,  and,  later,  Edward  the  Confessor  in  Eng- 
land, either  overawed  by  the  declared  authority  of  the 
Old  Testament,  or  thinking  it  but  a  fair  contribution 
to  the  maintenance  of  public  worship  and  for  other  re- 
ligious uses,  gave  the  force  of  civil  law  to  this  presumed 
sacred  obligation.  During  several  centuries  it  was 
urged  by  the  preachers,  not  merely  as  an  indispensable 
part  of  Christian  duty,  but  as  a  test  of  Christian  per- 
fection.^ 


1  Hallam  has  summed  up  (Middle  Ages,  c  vii.)  with  his  usual  judgment 
and  accuracy  what  is  most  important  on  this  subject,  in  Father  Paul,  Mu- 
ratori,  Giannone,  Fleury,  and  Schmidt 

>  In  the  controversy  which  arose  on  the  publication  of  Selden's  book  on 
Tithes,  the  High-Church  writers,  Montague  and  Tildesley,  were  diffuse  and 
triumphant  in  their  quotations  from  Heathen  writers,  as  though,  by  show- 
ing the  concurrence  of  universal  religion  with  the  Mosaic  institutes,  to 
make  out  tithes  to  be  a  part  of  Natural  Beligion.  See  abstract  of  their 
arguments  in  Collier. 

*  Paolo  Sarpi,  quoted  by  Mr.  Hallam. 


Cbaf.  I.  TITHE.  148 

Tithe  was  first  received  by  the  Bishop,  and  distrib- 
uted by  him  in  three  or  in  four  portions  ;  to  himself,  to 
the  clergy,  for  the  fabric  of  the  churches,  for  the  poor. 
But  all  kinds  of  irregularities  crept  into  the  simple  and 
stately  uniformity  of  this  universal  tax  and  its  admin- 
istration. It  was  retained  by  the  Bishop  ;  the  impov- 
erished clergy  murmured  at  their  meagre  and  dispro- 
portionate share.  As  the  parochial  divisions  became 
slowly  and  irregularly  distinct  and  settled,  it  was  in 
many  cases,  but  by  no  means  universally,  attached  to 
the  cure  of  souls.  The  share  of  the  fabric  became  un- 
certain and  fluctuating,  till  at  length  other  means  were 
found  for  the  erection  and  the  maintenance  of  the 
Church  buildings.  The  more  splendid  Prelates  and 
Chapters,  aided  by  the  piety  of  Kings,  Barons,  and 
rich  men,  disdained  this  fund,  so  insufficient  for  their 
magnificent  designs  ;  the  building  of  churches  was  ex- 
acted from  the  devotion  or  the  superstition  of  the  laity 
in  general,  conjointly  with  the  munificence  of  the  eccle- 
siastics. So,  too,  the  right  of  the  poor  to  their  portion 
became  a  free-will  contribution,  measured  by  the  gen- 
erosity or  the  wealth  of  the  Clergy ;  here  a  splendid, 
ever-flowing  largess ;  there  a  parsimonious,  hardly-ex- 
acted dole. 

The  tithe  suflered  the  fete  of  other  Church  property ; 
it  was  at  times  seized,  alienated,  appropriated  by  vio- 
lence or  by  fraud.  It  was  retained  by  the  Bishops  or 
wealthy  clergy,  who  assigned  a  miserable  stipend  to  a 
poor  Vicar ;  it  fell  into  the  hands  of  lay  impropriators, 
who  had  either  seized  it,  or,  on  pretence  of  farming  it, 
provided  in  the  cheapest  manner  for  the  performance 
of  the  service  ;  the  Monasteries  got  possession  of  it  in 
large  portions,  and  served  the  cures  fi:om  their  Abbey 


144  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

or  Cloister.  In  England  it  was  largely  received  by 
foreign  Beneficiaries,  who  never  saw  the  land  from 
wliich  they  received  this  tribute. 

Still,  however  levied,  however  expended,  however  in- 
vaded by  what  were  by  some  held  to  be  sacrilegious 
hands,  much  the  larger  part  of  this  tenth  of  all  the 
produce  of  the  land  throughout  Christendom,  with  no 
deduction,  except  the  moderate  expense  of  collection, 
remained  in  the  hands  of  the  Hierarchy.  It  was  grad- 
ually extended  &om  the  produce  of  land  to  all  other 
produce,  cattle,  poultry,  even  fish. 

The  High  Aristocracy  of  the  Church,  from  the 
Pope  to  the  member  of  the  capitular  body,  might  not 
disdain  to  participate  in  this,  which  ought  to  have  been 
the  exclusive  patrimony  of  the  parochial  and  laboring 
clergy:  but  their  estates,  which  were  Lordships,  Bar- 
onages, Princedoms,  in  the  Pope  a  kingdom,  were  what 
placed  them  on  a  level  with,  or  superior  to,  the  Knights, 
Barons,  Princes,  Kings  of  the  world. 

These  possessions  throughout  Latin  Christendom, 
both  of  the  Seculars  and  of  the  Monasteries,  if  only  cal- 
culated fi*om  their  less  clerical  expenditure,  on  their  per- 
sonal pomp  and  luxury,  on  their  wars,  on  their  palaces, 
and  from  their  more  honorable  prodigality  qn  their  cathe- 
drals, churches,  monastic  buildings,  must  have  been  enor- 
mous ;  and  for  some  period  were  absolutely  exempt  from 
contribution  to  the  burdens  of  the  State.  ^  We  have  seen 
the  first  throes  and  struggles  of  Papal  nepotism  ;  we  have 
seen  bold  attempts  to  quarter  the  kinsmen  of  Popes  on 
the  territories  of  the  Papacy,  to  create  noble  patrimonies, 
or  even  principalities,  in  their  favor ;  but  there  is  no 

1  Some  estates  of  the  Church  vere  held  on  the  tenure  of  militaiy  mt- 
▼ioe,  most  in  Franealmoigne. — ff*ii*m- 


Chap.  I.  WEALTH  OF  THE  GLEBGY.  146 

Papal  family  of  the  time  preceding  Nicolas  V.  which 
boasts  its  hereditary  opulence  or  magnificent  palace^ 
like  the  Riarios,  Fameses,  Barberinis,  Corsinis,  of  later 
times.  The  Orsinis  and  Colonnas  were  Princes  created 
Popes,  not  descendants  of  Popes.  The  vast  wealth  of 
the  Archbishopric  of  Milan  has  shone  before  us ;  an 
Archbishop  was  the  founder  c^  the  Ducal  House  of 
Visconti.  In  Italy,  however,  in  general,  the  Prelates 
either  never  possessed  or  were  despoiled  of  the  vast 
wealth  which  distinguished  the  Ultramontane  Prelates. 
Romagna  had  become  the  Papal  domain;  Ravenna 
had  been  compelled  to  yield  up  her  rival  territory. 
The  Crusades  had  not  thrown  the  lands  into  their 
hands  by  the  desertion  of  their  lords.  In  the  commer* 
dal  wealth  of  Venice,  Genoa,  Pisa,  Florence,  they  had 
no  share.  At  Constance,  as  it  has  appeared,  the  Ultra- 
montanes  feared  that  the  poverty  of  the  Italian  Bishops 
would  place  them  at  the  command  of  the  Pope.  In 
Germany  the  Prince-Archbishops,  the  Electors,  were 
not  scrupulous  in  extending  the  wide  pale  of  their  ec- 
clesiastical principalities.  The  grant  of  estates,  of  ter- 
ritories, was  too  common  a  bribe  or  a  reward  from  a 
doubtful  aspirant  to  the  Imperial  throne.  How  many 
fiefs  held  by  Mentz,  by  Treves,  and  by  Cologne,  dated 
from  the  eve  of,  or  firom  the  coronation  of  an  Emperor, 
raised  to  the  throne  after  a  severe  contest  I  Among 
the  other  Prince-Prelates  of  the  Empire,  distracted  as 
Germany  was  for  centuries  by  wars  between  the  Popes 
and  the  Emperors,  wars  between  the  Emperor  and  his 
refiractory  subjects,  their  power  was  perpetually  in- 
creasing their  wealth,  their  wealth  aggrandizing  their 
power.  They  were  too  useful  allies  not  to  be  subsi- 
dized by  the  contending  parties ;  and  those  subsidies, 
VOL.  vm.  10 


146  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV- 

being  mostly  in  grants  of  lands,  enhanced  the  value  of 
their  alliance. 

In  France,  the  prodigality  of  the  weaker  Kings  of 
each  race,  and  each  race  successively,  from  the  fai- 
neant Merovingians,  seemed  to  dwindle  down  into  inevi- 
table weakness,  had  vied  with  each  other  in  heaping 
estates  upon  the  clergy,  and  in  founding  and  endowing 
monasteries.  If  the  later  Kings,  less  under  strong  re* 
ligious  impulses,  and  under  heavier  financial  embarrass- 
ments, were  less  prodigal ;  if  the  mass  of  secular  eccle- 
siastical property  is  of  earlier  date,^  few  reigns  passed 
without  the  foundation  of  some  religious  houses.  The 
Mendicant  Orders  had  their  spacious  and  splendid 
convents  in  Paris,^  and  in  the  other  great  cities  of 
France.8 

In  England  the  Statute  of  Mortmain  had  been  the 
National  Protest  against  the  perpetual  encroachment  of 
the  Church  on  the  landed  property  of  the  realm.     At 

^  The  Abb^  Maury,  in  the  debate  on  the  confiscation  of  church  property, 
aaserted  that  the  tenure  of  some  of  their  estates  vas  older  than  Clovis. 
(Lamartine,  Les  Constitnants,  Hi.  p.  113.)  In  the  debates  on  the  confisca- 
tion of  Church  property  in  the  National  Assembly  in  1789, 1790,  M  Tal- 
leyrand estimated  the  income  of  the  clergy  from  tithes  at  eighty  millions 
of  francs,  from  the  lands  at  seventy  millions;  total  one  hundred  and 
Afty  millions.  This,  I  presume,  did  not  include  the  lands,  at  least  not  the 
houses  of  the  monasteries.  (Buchon  et  Roux,  Hist.  Parlementaire  de  la 
R^v.  Fran^aise,  iii.  p.  156.)  In  the  proposal  for  the  suppression  of  the  re- 
ligious houses,  M.  Treilhard  declared  that  four  hundred  millions  might  be 
produced  by  the  sale  of  the  monastic  houses,  which  might  be  secularized. 
Those  in  Paris  alone  might  be  sold  for  one  hundred  and  fifty  millions.  A 
calculation  was  produced,  made  in  1776,  that  at  150  livres  the  toise,  they 
would  yfeld  217,309,000  livres.  In  another  report  it  was  stated  that  the 
clergy  held  one  fifth  of  the  net  revenue  from  land  in  France,  amounting  to 
two  hundred  millions,  exclusive  of  the  tithe.    (T.  v.  p.  328.) 

>  See  Dulaure,  Hist,  de  Paris,  a  book  with  much  valuable  information, 
bat  hostile  to  the  clergy. 

s  At  the  Revolution  six  Orders  had  three  houses  in  Paris,  some  others 
two.    They  must  have  amounted  to  between  forty  and  fifty. 


Chap.  L  DOOMSDAY.  147 

« 
length  the  subtlety  of  the  Lawyers  baffled  the  subtlety 

of  the  Churchmen;  the  strong,  stern  Law  could  be 
neither  infringed  nor  eluded.  But  it  left  the  Church 
in  possession  of  all  which  had  been  heaped  at  her  feet 
by  the  prodigal  Anglo-Saxon  Kings,  and  the  Normans 
hardly  less  prodigal.  If  it  had  not  passed  down  abso- 
lutely undiminished,  it  had  probably  on  the  whole  been 
constantly  enlarging  its  borders ;  if  usurped,  or  its  usu- 
fruct, if  not  the  fee,  fraudulently  made  away,^  it  had  in 
many  cases  widely  extended  itself  by  purchase,  as  well 
as  by  donation  and  bequest.^ 

There  are  four  periods  at  which  public  documents 
seem  at  first  sight  to  throw  a  steady  and  distinct  light 
on  the  extent  and  value  of  church  property  in  Eng- 
land, its  actual  if  not  its  relative  value.  Tet  on  ex- 
amination the  result  of  the  inquiry  becomes  dim,  con- 
fused, and  contradictory.  It  offers  no  more  th%n  a 
very  rude  and  uncertain  approximation  to  positive  con- 
clusions. 

I.  D&omsday-Book  gives  the  lands  in  the  possession 
of  ecclesiastics,  as  well  as  lay  holders,  those  of  bishops, 
chapters,  churches,  monasteries.  The  first  inspection 
of  Doomsday  may  seem  to  present  startling  facts.  In 
the  whole  County  of  Kent,  besides  the  King  (with 
whom  the  Churches  of  St.  Martin  in  Dover  and  the 


1  Churches  were  leased  to  ]a3rmen,  and  without  doubt  became  their 
actual  property;  as  such  were  bought  and  sold. 

*  The  Church  bought  largely.  The  statute  "  Quia  Emptores  "  shows 
abundantly  that  the  poesessions  of  the  Church  were  greatly  increased  by 
purchase  as  well  as  by  donation  and  bequest.  It  was  a  very  common 
practice  to  purchase  an  estate  in  reversion,  or  to  purchase  and  grant  the 
estate  to  the  former  Lord  fbr  his  life:  on  his  death  (si  obire  contigerit)  it 
(ell  to  the  Church.  Few  rich  men  entered  a  monastery  without  bringing 
some  estate  or  provision  with  them,  which  became  the  inalienable  property 
•f  the  Community.    See  instances  in  Taylor's  Index  Monasticus. 


148  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

Church  of  Canterbury  share  those  towns),  appear  as 
land-owners:  —  1.  The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury; 
2.  His  Monks  (Christchurch) ;  3.  The  Bishop  of 
Rochester;  4.  The  Bishop  of  Bayeux;^  5.  The  Ab- 
bey of  Battle;  6.  St.  Augustine's;  7.  Abbey  of  St. 
Peter's,  Ghent.  Only  four  knights,  and  Albert  the 
Chaplain.  In  Middlesex  are  the  King,  the  Archbishop, 
the  Bishop  of  London,  his  Canons  (of  St.  Paul's),  the 
Abbot  of  Westminster,  the  Abbot  of  the  Holy  Trinity 
in  Rouen,  the  Abbot  of  Barking,  with  eighteen  others, 
barons  and  knights.  In  Worcestershire  the  King,  the 
Church  of  Worcester,  the  Bishop  of  Hereford,  the 
Church  of  St.  Denys  near  Paris,  the  Church  of  Corm^ 
lies,  the  Abbeys  of  Westminster,  Pershore,  Evesham ; 
the  Bishop  of  Bayeux,  the  Church  of  St  Guthlac,  the 
Clerks  of  Wrehampton,  with  fifteen  laymen.  In  Berk- 
shire, among  sixty-three  holders,  are  the  Eling,  five 
Bishops,  among  them  Durham  and  Coutances,  ten 
Abbots  and  Abbesses.  In  Devonshire,  of  fifty-three, 
are  the  King,  two  Bishops,  Exeter  and  Coutances,  ten 
abbeys,  among  them  Rouen,  Mont  St.  Michael,  St.  Ste* 
phen  and  Holy  Trinity  at  Caen.  During  the  reign  of 
our  Norman  sovereigns  these  transmarine  monasteries 
held  their  lands  in  England.  They  were  either  cells  or 
dependent  priories  which  sent  their  revenues  across  the 
sea.  As  England  and  France  became  hostile  powers 
they  were  gradually  seized,  till  at  length,  in  the  time 
of  Henry  V.,  they  were  confiscated  by  the  strong  hand 
of  the  law,  and  vested  by  Act  of  Parliament  in  the 
Crown.^     Our  history  has  dwelt,  on  more  than  one 

1  Odo,  Bishop  of  Bsjreuz,  held  lands  in  sixteen  counties.  -«  Sir  H.  Ellis, 
IntrodnetioB. 

2  EUiSi  Introdnction  to  Doomsday.    Collier,  i.  p.  660. 


Cbap.  l  doomsday.  149 

occasion,  on  the  estates  and  benefices  held  by  foreign 
prelates,  chiefly  Italians. 

II.  The  valuation  made  in  the  reign  of  Edward  I., 
by  order  of  Pope  Nicolas  IV.  The  whole  ecclesiastical 
property  was  assessed  at  rather  more  than  200,000/.,  a 
valuation  much  higher  than  had  been  admitted  before  ; 
the  tenth  levied  was  above  20,000/.^ 

III.  The  remarkable  petition  of  the  Commons  to 
Henry  IV.,^  for  the  confiscation  of  the  whole  Church 
property  and  its  appropriation  to  the  maintenance  of  a 
nobility,  knighthood,  squirehood,  burghership,  and  alms* 
houses,  retaining  only  a  priesthood  of  16,000,  without 
distinction  of  Orders,  and  on  the  annual  stipend  of 
seven  marks  each.  This  wild  revolutionary  scheme 
estimated  the  temporalities  of  the  Church  at  822,000 
marks  a  year.^  They  were  thrown  together  in  large 
masses,  each  of  20,000,  as  •'—1.  The  see  of  Canter- 
bury, with  the  abbeys  of  Christchurch,  St.  Augustine, 
Shrewsbmry,  Coggleshal,  St.  Osyth.  2.  York  (not 
including  Fontaines,  Rivaux,  and  some  other  abbeys^, 
3.  Six  of  the  larger  abbeys,  Dover,  Battle,  Lewes, 
Coventry,  Daventry,  and  Toumay  (Thomey  ?)  make 
up  another  20,000.^  The  total  estimate  of  the  Church 
property  may  seem  to  have  been  based  on  the  valuation 
of  Pope  Nicolas,  the  established  cataster  which  had 
been  acted  upon  for  above  a  century.     It  is  curious, 

I  See  Tol.  yi.  p.  258,  and  note,  for  the  details,  A.  d.  1299. 

s  WaluDgham,  p.  879.    Introd.  Fox,  ii.  p.  726,  a.  d.  1410. 

s  That  is  (calculating  a  mark  at  two  thirds  of  a  pound,  18«.  4dL),  nearlj 
the  same  as  the  Papal  valuation. 

^  Walsingliam  seems  to  say  that  they  were  set  to  prove  this  vast  wealth 
of  the  clergy,  and  ihiled :  **  Sed  cam  niterentnr  oetendere  de  qaibus  locis 
tarn  grandes  snmmie  levari  possent,  unde  prsemissi  dotarentnr  vel  dltaren- 
tor,  defocerunt  scrutantes  scrutinio  et  dam  diligunt  vanitatem  quasivere 
mendacium." 


160  LATIN   CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIT. 

howeyer,  as  setting  down  the  annual  income  necessary 
to  maintain  the  state  of  an  Earl  at  8000  marks ;  of  a 
Knight  at  100,  with  four  plough-lands ;  an  Esquire  40, 
with  two  plough-lands.  How  the  poor  Priest  was  to 
live  on  his  seven  marks,  unless  by  the  bounty  and  hos- 
pitality of  his  parishioners  —  certainly  with  no  hospi- 
tality or  almsgiving  of  his  own  —  these  early  levellers 
seem  not  to  have  thought.^  About  this  period,  accord- 
ing to  another  statement,  there  were  in  England  46,822 
churches,  52,285  villae,  53,225  military  fiefe,  of  which 
the  ecclesiastics  and  religious  held  28,000.  Thus  they 
were  in  possession  of  above  one  half  of  the  knights* 
fees  in  the  realm.^ 

IV.  The  valuation  of  the  whole  church  property, 
immediately  before  the  suppression  of  the  larger  mon- 
asteries,^ as  compared  with  that  of  Nicolas  IV.,  might 
be  expected  to  furnish  at  once  a  positive  and  a  relative 


^  This  concurrence,  which  is  at  least  approximate,  may  appear  to  be  of 
higher  authority  than  the  calculation  drawn  from  a  passage  of  Knighton, 
which  would  more  than  double  the  amount  of  church  property.  In  the 
year  1837  two  Cardinal  Legates  came  to  England.  They  received  for  their 
expenses  50  marks  a  day,  which  was  raised  by  four  pennies  Arom  every  ben- 
efice, exempt  or  not  exempt.  The  revenue  of  the  Church  would  thus 
amount  to  2000  marks  a  day;  multiplied  by  365,  730,000  marks;  nearly 
500,000/.  Macpherson's  Annals  of  Commerce,  i.  519;  Hallam.  But  the 
Valor  of  Pope  Nicolas  was  framed  by  those  who  wished  as  much  as  possi- 
ble to  elude  or  lighten  their  taxation. 

s  This  rests  on  a  passage  in  the  Appendix  to  Heame*s  Avebury.  Mr. 
Sharon  Turner,  v.  166,  quotes  it.  Mr.  Hallam  appears  to  accept  its  results, 
Middle  Ages,  ii.  p.  506.  Other  authorities,  quoted  in  Taylor,  p.  xxiii., 
make  60,215  knights*  fees;  those  held  by  the  clergy  23,115.  Spelman 
brings  down  the  proportion  to  a  third;  so  too  Sir  W.  Temple. 

*  Ann.  Hen.  VHI.  26  A.  d.  1534,  published  by  the  Becord  Commission, 
to  be  compared  with  Speed's  Catalogue  of  Religious  Houses,  Benefices,  &c 
On  the  revenues  of  the  monasteries,  see  Dugdale  and  Stevens,  Mr.  Ka- 
smyth's  excellent  edition  of  Tanner's  Notitia.  No  book  is  more  instructive 
than  the  Index  Monasticus  of  the  Diocese  of  Norwich,  by  Mr.  Richd.  Tay- 
lor, London,  1821. 


Chap.  L    VALUATION  OF  CHURCH  PROPERTY.      151 

estimate  of  the  Church  possessions.  In  the  Act  for  the 
suppression  of  the  smaller  monasteries,^  those  with  an 
income  under  2001,  a  year,  it  was  supposed  that  about 
380  communities  would  be  dissolved  (about  100  then 
escaped  or  eluded  dissolution),  and  that  the  Crown 
would  derive  32,000Z.  of  yearly  revenue  from  the  con- 
fiscation, with  100,0002.  in  plate,  jewels,  money,  and 
other  valuables.  After  the  suppression  of  the  larger 
monasteries,^  the  amount  of  the  whole  ^revenue  es- 
cheated to  the  Crown  was  calculated  at  161,0002.^ 
A  little  before  this  period  the  revenue  of  England 
from  lands  and  possessions  had  been  calculated  at 
4,000,000/. :  ^  the  monastic  property,  therefore,  was  not 
more  than  a  twentieth  part  of  the  national  property. 
To  this  must  be  added  the  whole  Church  property  that 
remained,  that  of  the  Bishops,  Chapters,  Colleges,  and 
Parochial  Clergy.*  The  Valor  Ecclesiasticus  of  Henry 
YIII.  offers  no  sum  total ;  but,  according  to  Speed,  the 
whole  value  was  320,160/.  10«.  If  of  this,  186,512/. 
88.  ll^d,  was  the  gross  value  of  that  of  the  monasteries 
(the  sum  escheated  to  the  King,  161,000/.),  the  secular 
property  was  about  half  the  whole.     Together  the  two 

1  Baniet,  193,  222.  Rymer,  ziy.  674.  Stevens,  Appendix  to  Dagdale. 
Lingard,  c  iv.  Burnet  gives  ldl,607i.  6«.  id,  for  the  larger  monasteries, 
but  adds,  **  it  was  cU  hatt  ten  timet  tkt  turn  in  true  vahitJ'^ 

s  Loid  Herbert;  Speed;  Hume,  c.  81. 

*  It  is  singular  that  these  two  sums  amount  to  near  200,000/.  The  whole 
property  of  the  Church,  according  to  the  valuation  of  Nicolas  IV.,  stood 
at  about  204,000/.,  so  that  the  value  of  Monastic  proper^  was  then  near 
that  of  the  whole  Church  property  wider  Edward  I. 

4  This  is  stated  by  Hume,  and  on  such  a  subject  Hume  was  likely  to  be 
accurate,  but  he  does  not  g^ve  his  authority. 

*  One  insulated  point  of  comparison  has  offered  itself.  According  to 
the  Valor  of  Nicolas,  Christ  Church,  Canterbury,  was  assessed  at  856/. 
19«.  2dL,  under  Henry  VHI.  at  2,349/.  8<.  6<2.,  an  increase  of  about  seven 
times. 


162  LATIN  CHKISTIANITT.  BookHV. 

sums  would  amount  to  a  tenth  of  the  revenue  of  the 
kingdom  as  estimated  by  Hume.^ 

But  this  estimate  is  very  iallacious,^  both  as  to  the 
extent  and  the  actual  value '  of  the  Church  property. 
As  to  the  extent,  in  London  and  the  neighboring  coun- 
ties of  Middlesex,  Surrey,  Essex,  the  Church  lands,  or 
at  least  the  lands  in  which  the  Church  had  some  ten- 
ure,  must  have  been  enormous.  Hardly  a  parish  in 
Middlesex  did  not  belong,  certainly  so  far  as  manorial 
rights,  to  the  Bishop  of  London,  the  Dean  and  Chapter 
of  St.  Paul's,  the  Abbot  and  monks  of  Westminster, 
and  other  religious  houses  —  the  Carthusians,  St.  John's 
Clerkenwell  (the  Hospitallers),  Sion,  and  many  smaller 
foundations.  The  Chapter  of  St.  Paul's  swept  in  a 
broad  belt  round  the  north  of  London  till  they  met  the 
Church  of  Westminster  at  Hampstead  and  Padding- 


1  When,  by  Bishop  Barnet's  advice  (Bornet's  Own  Times,  edit.  Oxford, 
T.  p.  118),  the  FiiBt-Fraits  and  Tenths  were  made  over  to  the  Board,  called 
Qaeen  Anne's  Bounty,  the  tenths  were  reckoned  at  11,000^,  which  has 
now  remained  unaltered,  according  to  the  valuation  of  Henry  YIII.  This 
would  make  the  property  111,0002.  Speed  gives  111,207/.  14s.  2d.,  bat  a 
certain  portion  had  been  appropriated  to  the  Bishops  and  Chapters,  which 
makes  up  the  totaL 

3  Some  of  the  richer  monasteries  had  sunk  to  a  small  oligarchy.  Chert- 
sey  with  14  monks,  had  7402.  a  year;  Funiess,  with  30,  966iL  It  is  curious 
to  compare  Hume  and  Lingard.  Both  select  Fumess  as  their  example 
(Hume  puts  Fumess  in  Lincolnshire).  Hume  gives  the  small  number  of 
monks  as  compared  with  the  great  income ;  on  the  signal  iniquity  of  the 
mode  in  which  the  suppression  was  enforced  he  is  silent.  Lingard  is  coldly 
eloquent,  as  is  his  wont,  on  the  iniquity  —  of  the  small  number  of  monks 
not  a  word. 

<  On  the  important  question  of  the  relative  value  of  money  at  that  time 
and  the  present,  taking  in  the  joint  oonsideraticm  of  weight  of  silver  and 
price  of  provisions,  Mr.  Taylor,  in  1821,  would  multiply  by  15  times.  Land 
in  Norfolk  let  from  Is.  6c2.  to  2s.  6dL  an  acre;  wages  for  a  haymaker  were, 
during  Heniy  VII.  and  Heniy  VIIL,  Id.  to  Ud.  a  day.  The  whole  ec- 
clesiastical revenues  in  the  diocese  of  Norwich  would  be  worth  510,0002. 
a  year. 


OSAP.  I.  CONTRIBUTIONS  IK  KIND.  158 

ton.^     The  Abbot  of  Westminster  was  almost  a  prince 
of  Westminster.^ 

On  the  other  hand,  the  estates  and  manors  of  the 
Church  and  of  the  monasteries,  though,  as  probablj 
having  been  the  longest  under  cultivation,  the  best  cul- 
tivated, in  productive  value  were  far  below  their  imag- 
ined wealth.  The  Church  was  by  usage,  perhaps  from 
interest,  an  indulgent  landlord.  Of  the  estates,  a  large 
part  had  become  copyhold,  and  paid  only  a  moderate 
quit-rent,  and  a  small  fixed  fine  on  renewal.  Of  those 
on  which  the  Church  reserved  the  full  fee,  the  fines  on 
renewals,  whether  on  lives  or  for  terms  of  years,  were 
no  doubt  extremely  moderate.  They  had  become  he- 
reditary in  &milies,  and  acquired  the  certainty  of  actual 
possession.  The  rents  were  paid  in  money,  usually  of 
small  amount,  in  services  to  the  landlord  (the  Preben- 
dary or  the  Church),  in  the  cultivation  of  their  lands, 
and  to  a  considerable  extent  in  kind.  Probably  the 
latter  contribution  was  not  taken  into  the  account  of 
their  value.  But  not  only  had  each  monastery  its  com- 
mon refectory,  each  Chapter  had  its  common  establish- 
ment, its  common  table,  its  horses,  and  other  conven- 
iences, largely  supplied  by  the  growers ;  hay  and  straw, 
beasts,  poultry  furnished  at  specified  times  by  the  ten- 
ants. Each  had  its  mill,  its  brewhouse,  its  bakery; 
and  no  doubt  the  annual  expenses  of  the  House,  or 
Domus,  were  to  a  large  extent  supplied  from  these  un- 

1  Archdeacon  Hale  has  printed,  not  yet  published  (for  the  Camden  So- 
cietj),  what  he  calls  the  Domesday  of  St  Paul;  the  Visitation  of  the  man- 
ors of  the  Dean  and  Chapter  (not  the  separate  estates  of  the  prebendir* 
ries).  It  throws  great  light  on  this  point,  as  well  as  on  the  tenure  and  con- 
dition of  the  Church  property. 

*  At  the  Dissolution,  Westminster  was  the  most  wealthy  monastery  ^il 
was  estimated  at  3977^ ;  St  John's,  Clerkenwell,  the  richest  of  the  militair 
orders,  23862. ;  Sion,  the  richest  nunnery,  19442.  —  Speed. 


164  LATIN  CHMSTUNITT.  Book.  XIV. 

reckoned  sources.^  Yet  on  the  whole  the  tenants,  no 
doubt,  of  the  Church  shared  a  full  portion  of  the  wealth 
of  the  Church,  so  secure  and  easy  was  their  tenure ; 
and  it  was  not  uncommon  for  ecclesiastics  to  take  ben- 
eficiary leases  of  the  lands  of  their  own  Church,  which 
they  bequeathed  as  property  to  their  kindred  or  heirs, 
not  infrequently  to  their  children.  Besides  this,  over 
all  their  property  the  Church  had  a  host  of  oflScera  and 
retainers,  stewards  of  their  courts,  receivers,  proctors, 
lawyers,  and  other  dependents,  numberless  in  name  and 
function. 

But  of  the  wealth  of  the  Clergy,  the  landed  prop- 
erty, even  with  the  tithe,  was  by  no  means  the  whole ; 
and,  invaded  as  it  was  by  aggression,  by  dilapidation, 
by  alienation  through  fraud  or  violence,  limited  in  its 
productiveness  by  usage,  by  burdens,  by  generosity, 
by  maladministration,  it  may  be  questioned  whether  it 
was  the  largest  part.  The  vast  treasures  accumulated 
by  the  Avignonese  PontiiFs  when  the  Papal  territories 
were  occupied  by  enemies  or  adventurers,  and  could 
have  yielded  but  scanty  revenues,  testify  to  the  volun- 
tary or  compulsory  tribute  paid  by  Western  Christen- 
dom to  her  Supreme  Court  of  Appeal.     If  the  Bishops 

I  All  this  throws  light  on  a  very  curiooa  state  of  things  at  St  Paul's; 
DO  doubt  not  peculiar  to  St  PauPs.  The  Chapter  consisted  of  80  Preben- 
daries, each  with  his  separate  estate,  and  originally  his  right  to  share  in  the 
common  ftind,  on  condition  of  performing  certain  services  in  the  Church. 
The  Prebendaries  withdrew  each  to  the  care  and  enjoyment  of  his  Prebend, 
or,  if  a  Pluralist,  of  many  Prebends,  leaving  the  duties  to  be  performed 
by  certain  Residentiaries;  ^o  when  the  daily  mass,  the  perpetual  office  was 
imposed  as  a  burden,  it  was  difficult  to  keep  up  the  number  of  Residen- 
tiarie.4.  Tn  process  of  time  the  Common  Fund  grew  larger,  the  emoluments 
and  advantages  from  oblations,  obits,  and  other  sources  increased  in  value ; 
there  was  then  a  strife  and  a  press  to  become  a  Residentiary.  It  was 
necessary'  (the  exhausted  fund  was  the  plea)  to  obtain  Papal  or  Archiepia- 
oopal  decrees  to  limit  the  number  of  Residentiaries. 


Chap.  I.  OBLATIONS.  155 

mainly  depended  on  their  endowments,  to  the  Clergy, 
to  the  monastic  churches,  oblations  (in  many  cases  now 
from  free  gifts  hardened  into  rightftil  demands)  were 
pouring  in,  and  had  long  been  pouring  in,  with  incal- 
culable profusion.  Not  only  might  not  the  altars, 
hardly  any  part  of  the  church  might  be  approached 
without  a  votive  gift.  The  whole  life,  the  death  of 
every  Christian  was  bound  up  with  the  ceremonial  of 
the  Church  ;  for  almost  every  office,  was  received  from 
the  rich  and  generous  the  ampler  donation,  from  the 
poorer  or  more  parsimonious  was  exacted  the  hard- 
wrung  fee.  Above  all,  there  were  the  masses,  which 
might  lighten  the  sufferings  of  the  soul  in  purgatory ; 
there  was  the  prodigal  gift  of  the  dying  man  out  of 
selfish  love  for  himself;'  the  more  generous  and  no  less 
prodigal  gift  of  the  bereaved,  out  of  holy  charity  for 
others.  The  dying  man,  from  the  King  to  the  peasant, 
when  he  had  no  further  use  for  his  worldly  riches  would 
devote  them  to  this  end;^  the  living,  out  of  profound 
respect  or  deep  affection  for  the  beloved  husband,  par- 
ent, brother,  kinsman,  friend,  would  be,  and  actually 
was,  not  less  bountiftd  and  munificent.^     Add  to  all 

1 1  am  able  to  illustrate  this  fVom  the  records  of  St  Paal's,  which  have 
been  investigated  with  singular  industry  and  accuracy  by  my  fHend  Arch- 
deacon Hale,  to  whom  I  am  indebted  for  much  valuable  information. 

3  There  is  another  curious  illustration  of  the  wealth  of  the  Clergy.  The 
inventory  of  the  effects  of  Richard  Gravesend,  Bishop  of  London,  from 
1990  to  1303.  It  measures  28  feet  in  length :  it  gives  in  detail  all  his  pos- 
sessions, his  chapel  (plate  of  the  chapel),  jewels,  robes,  books,  horses,  the 
grain  and  stock  on  each  of  his  manors,  with  the  value  of  each.  The  total 
amounts  to  28711  7s.  10\d.    Com  was  then  4f.  per  quarter. 

s  We  have  in  St.  PauPs  an  account  of  the  obits  or  anniversaries  of  the 
deaths  of  certain  persons,  for  the  celebration  of  which  bequests  had  been 
oiade  in  the  fourteenth  century.  The  number  was  111.  The  payments 
made  amounted  in  the  whole  to  9678s.  5W.,  of  which  the  Dean  and  Ca- 
nons Residentiaiy  (present)  received  1461s.,  about  732. ;  multiply  by  16,  to 
bring  to  present  value,  10752. 


166  LATIN  CHRISTIAinTT.  Book  XIV. 

this  the  oblations  at  the  crosses  of  the  Redeemer,  or  the 
shrines  of  popular  and  famous  saints,  for  their  interces- 
sory prayers  to  avert  the  imminent  calamity,  to  assuage 
the  sorrow,  or  to  grant  success  to  the  schemes,  it  might 
be,  of  ambition,  avarice,  or  any  other  passion,  to  obtain 
pardon  for  sin,  to  bring  down  blessing:  crosses  and 
shrines,  many  of  them  supposed  to  be  endowed  with 
miraculous  powers,  constantly  working  miracles.^  To 
most  of  these  were,  made  perpetual  processions,  led  by 
the  Clergy  in  their  rich  attire.  From  the  basins  of 
gold  or  the  bright  florins  of  the  King  to  the  mite  of 
the  beggar,  all  feU  into  the  deep,  insatiable  box,  which 
unlocked  its  treasures  to  the  Clergy.^ 

Besides  all  these  estates,  tithes,  oblations,  bequests  to 
the  Clergy  and  the  monasteries,  reckon  the  subsidies  in 

1  £.  g.,  Richard  Preston,  citizen  and  grocer,  gave  to  the  shrine  of  St 
Erkenwald  his  best  sapphire  stone,  for  caring  of  infirmities  of  the  eyes,  ap- 
pointing that  proclamation  should  be  made  of  its  virtues.  — Dugdale,  p. 
21. 

<  We  have  an  aocount  of  the  money  found  in  the  box  under  the  great 
Cross  on  the  entrance  of  the  Cathedral  (Recepta  de  pixide  Crucis  Borealis). 
In  one  month  (May,  a.  d.  1344)  it  yielded  no  less  than  60/.  (pmter  arg^n- 
turn  firactum).  This  was  more  than  an  average  profit,  but  taken  as  an  aver- 
age it  gives  6002.  per  annum.  Multiply  this  by  15  to  bring  it  to  the  present 
value  of  money,  90002.  This,  by  an  order  of  the  Pope's  Commissary,  a.  d. 
1410  (Dugdale,  p.  90),  was  divided  among  the  Dean  and  Canons  Residen- 
tiary. But  this  was  by  no  means  the  only  box  of  ofierings — perhaps  not 
the  richest.  There  was  one  at  the  magnificent  shrine  of  St.  Erkenwald; 
another  at  that  of  the  Virgin,  before  which  the  offerings  of  wax  tapers 
ak>ne  were  so  valuable,  that  the  Dean  and  Chapter  would  no  longer  leave 
them  to  the  vergers  and  servants  of  ^e  Qmrch.  They  were  extinguished, 
carried  to  a  room  behind  the  chapter-house,  and  melted,  for  the  use  of  the 
said  Dean  and  Canons.  Archbishop  Arundel  assigned  to  the  same  Dean 
and  Canons,  and  to  their  successors  forever,  the  whole  profits  of  the  oblit- 
tion  box.  Dugdale  recounts  gifts  by  King  John  of  France,  especially  to 
the  shrine  of  St.  Erkenwald.  The  shrine  of  St  Thomas  at  Canterbury 
received  in  one  year  8322.  Us.  id. ;  in  another,  9542L  (U.  8dL  —  Bnmet,  Hist 
Reformat.,  vol.  i.  See  Taylor,  Index  ibr  our  Lady  of  Walsingham.  Our 
Chauntry  accounts  are  full  and  well  preserved,  and  would  furnish  a  veiy 
carious  illustration  of  the  oflce  and  income  of  the  Mass  Priest. 


Gbai>.I.  UNTTT  of  the  CLERGY.  167 

• 

kind  to  the  Mendicants  in  their  four  Orders  —  Domini- 
cans, Franciscans,  Angustiniana,  Carmelites.  In  eveiy 
country  of  Latin  Christendom,  of  these  swaims  of 
Friars,  the  lowest  *  obtained  sustenance :  the  higher 
means  to  build  and  to  maintain  splendid  churches, 
cloisters,  houses.  All  of  these,  according  to  their 
proper  theory,  ought  to  have  lived  on  the  daily  dole 
from  the  charitable,  bestowed  at  the  gate  of  the  palace 
or  castle,  of  the  cottage  or  hovel.  But  that  which  was 
once  an  act  of  charity  had  become  an  obligation. 
Who  would  dare  to  repel  a  holy  Mendicant  ?  The 
wealth  of  the  Mendicants  was  now  an  object  of  bitter 
jealousy  to  the  Clergy  and  to  the  older  monastic  Or- 
ders. They  were  a  vast  standing  army,  &r  more  vast 
than  any  maintained  by  any  kingdom  in  Christendom, 
at  once  levying  subsidies  to  an  enormous  amount,  and 
living  at  free  quarters  throughout  the  land.  How  on- 
erous, how  odious  they  had  become  in  England,  may  be 
seen  in  the  prose  of  Wycliffe  and  in  the  poetry  of 
Piers  Plouglunan.^ 

The  Clergy,  including  the  Monks  and  Friars,  were 
one  throughout  Latin  Christendom ;  and  through  them, 
to  a  great  extent,  the  Latin  Church  was  one.  u^}^  ^ 
Whatever  antagonism,  feud,  hatred,  estrange-  ^^'••^•'^y- 
ment,  might  rise  between  rival  Prelates,  rival  Priests, 
rival  Orders  —  whatever  irreconcilable  jealousy  there 
might  be  between  the  Seculars  and  Regulars  —  yet  the 
Caste  seldom,  and  but  on  rare  occasions,  betrayed  the 
interest  of  the  Caste.     The  high-minded  Churchman, 


I  Liter,  Speed,  ftom  the  SappUcatioii  of  Beggaiv,  asserts,  as  demon- 
itnted,  that,  reckoning  that  every  honeeholder  paid  the  five  Ordete  five- 
pence  a  jear  only,  the  sum  of  48,000i.  6f.  8d  was  paid  them  by  the  year, 
beaidee  the  revenues  of  their  own  lands. 


158  LATIN  CHMSTIAinTY.  BookXIV. 

who  regarded  his  country  more  than  the  Church,  was 
not  common  ;  the  renegade,  who  pursued  his  private 
interests  by  sacrificing  those  of  his  Order,  might  be 
more  so ;  but  he  stood  alone  a  hated  and  despised  apos- 
tate. There  might  be  many  traitors  from  passion,  ig- 
norance, obstinacy,  blindness  to  its  interests  —  few 
premeditated  and  deliberate  deserters  of  its  cause.  The 
Clergy  in  general  (there  were  noble  exceptions)  were 
first  the  subjects  of  the  Pope,  then  the  subjects  of  the 
temporal  Sovereign.  The  Papal  Legate,  the  Proconsul 
of  the  Pope,  the  co-Ruler  with  the  King,  was  not  de- 
pendent on  the  reception  of  a  cold  perhaps  or  hostile 
Court ;  he  could  almost  command,  rarely  did  not  re- 
ceive, the  unlimited  homage  of  the  Clergy :  to  him 
was  due  their  first  obedience.  The  Pope  claimed  and 
long  maintained  the  sole  right  of  taxation  of  ecclesias- 
tical property ;  only  under  his  authority  could  that 
property  be  assessed  by  the  State.  This  general  taxa- 
tion by  the  Pope  began  during  the  Crusades,  for  that 
holy  purpose ;  it  was  continued  for  all  other  Crasades 
which  he  might  command,  and  was  extended  to  his 
general  uses ;  he  condescended  from  time  to  time  to 
throw  some  part,  in  his  bounty,  to  the  temporal  Sover- 
eign ;  ^  but,  in  theory,  the  right  was  in  him  and  in  him 
alone.  It  was  asserted  over  the  whole  of  Christendom, 
and  made  him,  as  the  guardian,  so  in  some  respects  the 
Suzerain  of  Church  property  throughout  the  world. 
The  allegiance  of  the  hierarchy  to  the  Church  was  at 
once  compulsory  and  voluntary ;  the  Pope's  awful 
powers  held  in  check  the  constant  inevitable  tendency 

I  It  is  curious  to  see  the  words  **  caritativum  subBidiom  "  creep  into  the 
more  weak  demands  of  the  Popes  daring  the  schism.  — MS.,  B.  M.  passim 
at  that  period. 


'.r.  FRATEBNITT  OF  MONASTIC  ORDERS.  159 

to  rebellion  and  contumacy,  which  was  usually  that  of 
individual  Prelates  or  small  factions.  Among  them- 
selves the  Clergy  could  not  but  at  times  split  into  par- 
ties on  temporal  or  religious  subjects;  but  if  the  Papal 
or  hierarchical  authority  lost  ground  by  their  turbu- 
lence or  their  divisions,  they  were  soon  driven  back  to 
an  unanimity  of  dependence  on  the  Papal  power  by 
the  encroachments  of  the  State,  or  to  settle  their  own 
disputes.  They  fled  from  ruder  tyrants  to  the  throne 
of  St.  Peter ;  the  Pope  was  at  least  a  more  impartial 
judge  than  their  rival  or  antagonist  —  mostly  than  the 
civil  ruler.  On  the  whole  the  Order  of  the  Cler^ 
was  one  from  the  utmost  East  to  the  ferther  West, 
from  the  North  to  the  South. 

The  universal  fraternity  of  the  Monastic  Orders 
and  of  the  Friars  was  even  more  intimate.  Every- 
where, from  the  Scottish  islands  to  the  Spanish  frontier 
of  Christendom,  the  Benedictine,  the  Clugniac,  the 
Cistercian,  might  find  a  home ;  the  abbey  of  his  breth- 
ren opened  to  him  its  hospitable  doors.  This  was  of 
less  importance  to  the  elder  and  more  sedentary'  Ordera 
(they,  too,  travelled,  a  few  in  search  of  learning  — 
most  who  did  leave  their  homes,  as  pilgrims  to  Rome, 
to  other  famous  shrines,  or  to  the  East)  :  but  to  the 
wandering  Friars,  who  spread  all  over  Europe,  of  what 
incalculable  advantage  to  find  everywhere  brethren 
connected  with  them  by  a  closer,  as  they  thought  a  ho- 
lier tie,  than  that  of  kindred  or  consanguinity  ;  a  ready 
auditory  prepared  by  the  tertiaries  of  the  Order ;  allies 
in  their  invasion  on  the  parishes  of  the  secular  priests ; 
a  crawd  of  admirers  of  their  learning,  which  added 
feme  and  so  strength  to  their  Order,  and  of  their  zeal 
or  eloquence,  which  brought  in  new  proselytes ;  abetp- 


160  LATIN    CHMSTIANITT  Book  XIV. 

tors  and  maintainers  of  their  influence,  which  was  still 
wringing  further  wealth  for  the  Order  from  the  timid 
living  or  the  remorseful  dying  man.  This  all-compre- 
hending fraternization  had  the  power,  and  some  of  the 
mystery,  without  the  suspicion  and  hatred  which  at- 
taches to  secret  societies.  It  was  a  perpetual  campaign, 
set  in  motion  and'  still  moving  on  with  simultaneous  im- 
pulse  from  one  or  from  several  centres,  but  with  a  single 
aim  and  object,  the  aggrandizement  of  the  Society,  with 
all  its  results  for  evil  or  for  good. 

The  Clergy  had  their  common  language  throughout 
oommon  Wcstem  Chiisteiidom.  In  their  intercourse 
clergy.  with  cach  Other  they  needed  no  interpreter. 
This  was  far  more  than  their  bond ;  it  was  among  the 
most  lasting  guarantees  of  their  power.  It  was  not 
from  their  intellectual  superiority  alone,  but  from  their 
almost  exclusive  possession  of  the  universal  European 
language,  that  they  held  and  retained  the  administration^ 
of  public  afiairs.  No  royal  Embassy  was  without  its 
Prelate,  even  if  the  Ambassadors  were  not  all  Prelates, 
for  they  only  could  converse  freely  together  without 
mutual  misunderstanding  of  their  barbarous  jargon,  or 
the  precarious  aid  of  an  interpreter.  The  Latin  alone 
was  as  yet  sufficiently  precise  and  definite  in  its  terms 
to  form  binding  treaties ;  it  was  the  one  language  cur- 
rent throughout  Europe  ;  it  was  of  necessity  that  of  all 
negotiations  between  distant  kingdoms. 

Hence,  too,  in  some  respects,  the  Churchman  was  of 
all  countries.  His  knowledge,  at  least  the  knowledge 
of  the  Churchman  who  moved  beyond  the  bounds  of 
his  narrow  parish,  of  the  universal  Latin  —  the  ability 
(in  theory  possessed  by  all)  to  officiate  in  the  unchange- 
able service  of  the  Church  —  was  the  only  indispensa- 


Chap.  I.  COMMON  LAN6UAGK  161 

ble  qualification  for  any  dignity  or  benefice  throughout 
Christendom.  Latin  Christianity  had  invaded  the  East, 
and  planted  Latin  Bishops  to  celebrate  Latin  services 
almost  throughout  the  Byzantine  Empire.  German 
Popes,  French  Popes,  one  English  Pope,  a  Portuguese, 
a  Greek  or  Calabrese  Antipope,  have  occupied  or  have 
aspired  to  the  throne  el  St.  Peter :  none  of  them  were 
foreigners  in  tongue.  All  Christendom,  especially  Eng- 
land, saw  their  richest  benefices  held  by  strangers,^  igno- 
rant of  the  native  language,  and  these  did  not  always 
hold  their  remote  cures  as  honors  and  appendages  to 
their  Italian  dignities,  but  visited  them  at  least  occa- 
sionally, and  had  no  difficulty  in  going  through  the 
routine  of  religious  service.^  There  might  be  bitter 
complaints  of  the  imperfect  fulfilment  of  duty :  con- 
scientious men  might  refuse  preferment  among  a  people 
ci  strange  language ;  but  there  was  no  legal  or  canoni- 
cal disqualification;  all  that  could  be  absolutely  de- 
manded was  the  ability  to  recite  or  chant  the  Latin 
breviary ;  no  clergyman  was  a  stranger  or  foreigner 
among  the  Clergy  in  any  European  kingdom. 

That  ubiquity  of  the  Clergy,  as  belonging  to  one 
Order,  under  one  head,  imder  one  law  and  discipline, 
speaking  a  common  language,  to  a  certain  extent  with 
common  habits  of  life,  was  of  inestimable  importance,  as 
holding  together  the  great  commonwealth  of  European 
nations,  in  antagonism  to  the  Eastern  races,  aggregated 
into  one  horde  by  the  common  bond  of  the  Koran.  Had 
the  Christian  kingdoms  grown  up  separate,  isolated,  ad- 

1 1  hmve  noticed  (toI.  v.  p.  316)  the  pluralist  who  held  the  archdeaconiy 
of  Theasalonica  with  benefices  in  Norfolk. 

s  Michael  Scott  is  a  rare  instance  of  scmpalonsness  in  refusing  the  Arch- 
bisbopric  of  *Cashel,  on  account  of  his  ignorance  of  Irish.  The  olirjection 
does  not  seem  to  have  occurred  to  his  patron  the  Pope. 

VOL.  vm.  11 


162  LATm  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

Terse,  even  if  each  with  its  independent  national  hie- 
rarchy, still  with  hardly  any  communication  but  by  the 
war  of  neighboring  States  with  neighboring  States,  and 
with  commerce  restricted,  precarious,  unenterprising, 
there  must  have  been  either  one  vast  Asiatic  despotism, 
founded  by  some  mighty  conqueror  —  a  Charlema^e, 
without  his  sagacious  religious  as  well  as  civil  organiza- 
tion—  or  a  disruption  into  hard  repulsive  masses,  a 
shifting  and  conflicting  aggregate  of  savage  tribes. 
There  could  have  been  no  confederacy  to  oppose  the 
mighty  invading  league  of  Mohammedanism.  Chris- 
tendom could  only  have  a  religious  Capital,  and  that 
Capital  in  all  the  early  period  was  Rome;  to  Rome 
there  was  a  constant  ebb  and  flow  from  the  remotest 
borders  of  Europe,  and  this  chiefly  of  the  Clergy ; 
through  them,  knowledge,  arts,  whatsoever  remained 
of  the  older  civilization,  circulated  to  the  extremities. 
The  Legate,  the  Nuncio,  if  he  came  to  bow  kings  and 
nations  to  an  imperious  yoke  and  to  levy  tribute,  brought 
with  him  the  peaceful  pomp,  the  courtly  manners,  the 
knowledge,  the  refinement  of  the  South :  his  inaliena- 
'ble  character  was  that  of  an  emissary  of  peace ;  he  had 
no  armed  retainers  ;  he  found  his  retainers,  except  the 
few  who  accompanied  him,  in  the  land  which  he  visited 
—  the  Clergy.  He  might,  as  he  too  often  did,  belie  his 
character  of  the  Angel  of  Peace ;  ^  he  might  inflame 
civil  wars,  he  might  even  set  up  rebellious  sons  against 
Others,  but  his  ostensible  office  was  always  moderation : 
his  progress  through  interjacent  realms,  where  he  passed 
safe,  respected,  honored  by  the  deferential  veneration 
of  all  the  hierarchy,  was  an  homage  to  the  representa- 

i  This  is  the  title  perpetnally  introdaced  into  the  instnictions  and  powen 
given  to  the  Cardinal  or  other  Legates. 


Chap.  I.  SOCUL  EFFECTS.  168 

tive  of  one  whose  office  at  least  was  to  promote  peace ; 
it  was  an  universal  recognition  of  the  blessings,  the 
sanctity  of  peace.  However  the  acts  of  Popes,  of 
worldly  or  martial  Prelates,  or  of  a  rude  or  fierce 
Clergy,  might  be  at  issue  with  the  primal  principles 
of  the  faith,  yet,  at  the  same  time  that  they  practised 
this  wide  apostasy,  they  condemned  their  own  apos- 
tasy ;  their  language  could  not  entirely  throw  off,  far 
from  throwing  off,  it  dwelt  ostentatiously,  though 
against  themselves,  on  the  true  and  proper  aim  of 
their  interference.  Where  war  was  the  universal  occu- 
pation, though  swept  away  by  the  torrent,  they  were 
constantly  lifting  up  their  voice  against  war,  at  least 
against  war  of  Christian  against  Christian ;  they  would 
divert  the  whole  martial  impulses  of  Christendom  against 
the  Mohammedan.  Thus  for  centuries,  through  the 
length  and  breadth  of  Latin  Christendom,  was  propa- 
gated and  maintained,  even  by  those  who  were  con- 
stantly violating  and  weakening  their  own  precepts,  a 
sympathy  for  better  and  more  Christian  tenets  —  a 
feint  yet  undying  echo  of  the  angelic  annunciation  of 
Christianity,  appealing  to  the  whole  Christian  priest>- 
hood,  and  through  the  priesthood  to  universal  man; 
"  peace  on  earth,  good-will  to  men."  Through  the 
Hierarchy  Christian  Europe  was  one ;  and  Christian 
Europe  was  at  least  brooding  over  the  seeds  of  a  richer 
harvest ;  it  was  preparing  for  a  generous  rivalry  in 
laws,  letters,  arts,  even  in  religion. 

Another  result  of  the  ubiquitous  Hierarchical  influ- 
ence, though  not  so  much  a  result  of  its  ubi-  ^g^^  ^ 
qnity  as  of  its  inalienable  character,  must  not  •***■'  "'*• 
be  passed  by.     It  was  not  only  a  bond  which  held  to- 
gether the  Christian  nations,  of  different  races  and  of 


164  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIY- 

different  tongues,  but  in  every  nation  of  the  Christian 
commonwealth  the  Clergy,  and  the  Clergy  alone,  held 
together  the  different  ranks  and  classes.  The  old  Ro- 
man prejudice  of  the  inefl&iceable  distinction  between 
the  free  man  and  the  slave  lurked  in  the  minds  of  the 
aristocratic  Hierarchy  of  the  South.  The  Clergy 
could  not  but  be  deeply  impregnated  with  the  feudal 
respect  for  high  birth,^  but  they  could  not  efface  from 
the  i*ecord  of  the  faith,  from  the  older  traditions,  to  do 
them  justice  they  never  lost  sight  of,  the  saying  of  the 
Saviour,  that  the  poor  were  their  especial  charge ;  pov- 
erty was,  as  it  were,  consecrated  by  the  humble  lives 
of  the  Lord  and  his  Apostles.  Many  Popes  have  been 
seen  rising  from  the  meanest  parentage  to  the  Pontifical 
throne.  In  every  kingdom  some  of  the  highest  exam- 
ples of  Christian   piety  and  ability,  canonized  Saints, 

1  In  the  Papal  dispensations  we  constantly  find  "  nobilitas  generis  ** 
spoken  of  with  "  scientia  et  honestas;  '*  as  a  justification  of  the  permission 
to  hold  benefices  in  plurality.  —  MS.,  B.  M.  passim. 

I  select  one  illustration  as  in  every  way  remarkable,  not  the  less  as  pro- 
ceeding from  Nicolas  V.  It  is  an  answer  to  a  petition  firom  Greorge  Ne- 
ville, Canon  of  York,  son  of  his  beloved  son  Richard  Earl  of  Salisboiy. 
**  The  nobility  of  his  descent  (he  was  even,  as  he  said,  of  royal  lineage)  in- 
duced the  Pope  to  grant  him  a  dispensation  (he  being  fourteen  years  old) 
to  hold  a  canonry  in  the  Church  of  Salisbury,  with  one  in  York.  More- 
over, the  gracious  favor  of  the  Pope  (tuorum  intuitu  meritornm),  the  merit 
of  a  boy  of  fourteen  !  allowed  him  to  hold  those  or  any  other  two  incom- 
patible benefices,  with  or  without  cure  of  souls;  even  Parish  Churches,  or 
any  dignities,  below  the  highest;  to  hold  them  together,  or  to  exchange 
them  at  his  will  during  his  whole  life  (quoad  vixeris).  The  provision 
must  be  added,  that  the  benefices  were  to  be  properly  served,  and  the  cure 
of  souls  not  neglected."  —Rome,  a.  d.  1447,  July  7. 

At  twenty-three  yean  old  the  same  Gkorge  Neville  was  appointed  Bishop 
of  Exeter;  as  he  could  not  be  consecrated  for  four  years,  he  had  a  Bull  to 
receive  the  profits.  —  Collier,  i.  674.  He  was  afterwards  Archbishop  of 
York.  See  Collier,  682.  I  would  add  on  pluralities  that,  though  not  noble, 
Wykeham,  before  he  was  Bishop,  held  the  archdeaconry  of  Buckingham, 
the  Provostship  of  Wells,  twelve  other  prebends  or  canonries,  sacerdotiaqae 
eum  curA  plus  quam  satis.  — Godwin,  p.  286. 


GtaAP.L  SOCIAL  EFFECTS.  165 

were  constantly  drawn  up  from  the  humblest  of  man- 
kind. Once  a  Churchman,  the  hallowed  man  took  his 
position  from  liis  ecclesiastical  rank,  not  from  his  birth 
or  descent ;  that  higher  nobility  had  cancelled  all  the 
want  of  noble  ancestry.  There  might  be  at  some  pe- 
riods a  closer  brotherhood  —  a  kind  of  separate  corpo- 
rate spirit  —  between  ecclesiastics  of  high  or  generous 
lineage,  but  it  rarely  dared  to  be  exclusive ;  other 
qualities,  either  worldly  or  religious,  were  allowed  to 
dress  the  balance.  The  Bishop  with  royal  blood  in  his 
veins  was  no  more  a  Bishop  than  he  who  had  sprung 
from  the  dregs  o£  the  people ;  he  wore  the  same  dress ; 
according  to  his  possessions,  might  display  the  same 
pomp ;  was  often  not  less  proud  in  the  cathedral ;  not 
only  in  the  cathedral,  even  in  the  royal  Council  he 
occupied  the  same  seat ;  had  almost  as  fair  a  chance  of 
canonization.  The  power  of  overleaping  the  Une, 
which  lay  so  broad  and  deep,  between  the  high  and 
low,  the  noble  and  the  peasant,  the  lord  and  the  serf, 
must  have  been  a  perpetual  consolation  and  hope  in 
the  conscious  abasement  of  the  poor  man  and  of  the 
serf —  a  drop  of  sweetness  in  his  bitter  cup. 

This,  indeed,  could  be  but  the  lot  of  few ;  and  there 
might  in  the  lower  orders  be  much  envy  and  jealousy 
of  those  who  rose  from  their  ranks  to  the  height  of 
Churchmanly  dignity,  as  well  as  pride  and  emulation 
to  vie  with  their  success.  Men  do  not  always  love  or 
honor  those  who  have  outstripped  them  in  the  race  of 
fortune  or  distinction  ;  but,  whether  objects  of  envy  or 
of  encouragement,  these  were  but  rare :  and  most,  no 
doubt,  of  the  humbler  classes  who  were  admitted  into 
the  Hierarchy  rose  no  higher  than  the  meanest  frino- 
tions,  or  the  privilege  of  becoming  Holy  Mendicants. 


166  LATIN    CHRISTIANTTY.  Book  XIV. 

Bat,  in  the  darkest  periods,  when  all  other  Christian 
virtnes  were  nearly  extinct,  charity,  in  its  form  of 
almsgiving,  survived,  and  was  strong ;  and,  indeed,  in 
institutions  for  the  poor,  hospitals,  leper-houses,  charity 
was  not  only  recognized  as  a  duty  especially  incumbent 
on  Churchmen  ;  it  was  a  duty  ostentatiously  discharged. 
The  haughtiest  Pope  condescended  to  imitate  the  Lord 
in  washing  the  feet  of  poor  men.  Many  of  the  most 
worldly  Prelates  were  the  most  munificent ;  perhaps 
satisfied  their  consciences  in  the  acquisition  of  nnapos- 
tolic  pomp  and  wealth  by  applying  it  to  apostolic  uses. 
The  donation,  th^  bequest,  prodigally  bestowed  or  un- 
graciously yielded  by  the  remorseful  sinner  to  the 
Priest  or  Bishop,  as  it  was  made  to  God  and  his  Poor, 
however  much  of  it  might  linger  in  the  hands  of  the 
Clergy,  and  be  applied  to  less  hallowed  purposes,  nev- 
ertheless did  not  all  lose  its  way  ;  part  of  it  strayed  to 
its  proper  object  —  the  assuagement  of  human  indi- 
gence and  misery.  This  was  especially  the  case  with 
the  monastic  establishments :  it  has  been  said  that  they 
were  the  poor-houses  of  the  Middle  Ages  ;  but  if  poor- 
houses,  like  our  own  by  no  means  wisely  or  providently 
administered,  still  they  had  those  twofold  blessings  of 
acts  of  mercy  —  some  softening  of  the  heart  of  him 
who  gave,  some  consolation  to  the  victim,  in  those  days 
probably  more  often  of  the  hard  times,  than  of  his  own 
improvidence.  Latin  Christianity  may  point  to  still 
surviving  Foundations  for  the  good  —  the  temporal,  the 
intellectual  good  —  of  mankind ;  her  Hospitals  and 
her  Brotherhoods,  her  Universities  and  her  Schools, 
her  Churches  and  her  Missions,  in  large  part  owing  to 
the  munificence  or  the  active  agency  of  her  universal 
Hierarchy ;  and  may  thus  calmly  and  securely  appeal  to 


Chap.L  EQUAUTT  of  MANKIND.  IQT 

the  sentence  of  the  most  enlightened  Christianity  which 
will  ever,  as  it  may  be  hoped,  prevail  in  the  world. 

And  if  the  Hierarchy  drew  too  imperiously,  too 
sternly,  too  deeply  the  line  of  demarcation  Bqumuty  of 
between  the  hallowed  and  unhallowed  castes  "»»°"°'*- 
of  mankind,  it  had  the  inestimable  merit  ofi  asserting 
the  absolute  spiritual  equality  of  all  not  in  sacred  or- 
ders. On  the  floor  of  the  Church,  before  the  Priest, 
before  God  (however  there  might  be  some  and  not  al- 
ways unwise  distinction  in  place  and  in  the  homage  to 
rank),  the  King  and  the  Serf,  in  all  essential  points, 
stood  on  the  same  level.  The  same  Sacraments  were 
the  common  right  of  all.  They  were  baptized  in  the 
same  font,  heard  the  same  masses,  might  listen  to  the 
same  sermons,  were  married  by  the  same  rites,  knelt  at 
the  same  altar,  before  the  throne  of  the  same  Saint, 
received  the  body  and  blood  of  the  same  Redeemer, 
were  even  buried  •(though  with  very  different  pomp  of 
funeral)  in  ground  equally  consecrated.  The  only  dis- 
tinction was  excommunication  or  non-excommunica- 
tion. The  only  outlaw  was,  it  was  believed,  self-out- 
lawed by  wandering  beyond  the  pale  of  the  Church. 
The  faithiul  were  one  people.  Who  shall  estimate  the 
value,  the  influence,  the  blessing  of  this  perpetual 
assertion,  this  visible  manifestation,  of  the  only  true 
Christian  doctrine  of  equality  —  equality  before  God  ? 

One  subject  we  would  willingly  decline,  but  the 
historian  must  not  shrink  from  truth,  however  repul- 
sive. Celibacy,  which  was  the  vital  energy  of  the 
Clergy,  was  at  the  same  time  their  fiital,  irremediable 
weakness.  One  half,  at  least  a  large  portion,  of  human- 
kind could  not  cease  to  be  humankind.  The  universal 
voice,  which  arraigns  the  state  of  morals,  as  regai*ds 


168  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

sexual  intercourse,  among  the  Clergy,  is  not  that  of 
their  enemies  only,  it  is  their  own.  Century  after  cen- 
tury we  have  heard  throughout  our  history  the  eternal 
protest  of  the  severer  Churchmen,  of  Popes,  of  Leg- 
ates, of  Councils.  The  marriage,  or,  as  it  was  termed, 
the  concubinage,  of  the  Clergy  was  the  least  evil.  The 
example  set  in  high  places  (to  deny  the  dissoluteness 
of  the  Papal  Court  at  Avignon,  would  be  to  discard 
all  historical  evidence)  could  not  be  without  frightful 
influence.  The  Avignonese  Legates  bore  with  them 
the  morals  of  Avignon.  The  last  strong  effort  to  break 
the  bonds  of  celibacy  at  the  council  of  Basle  warned 
but  warned  in  vain.  It  is  the  solemn  attestation  to  the 
state  of  Germany  and  the  northern  kingdoms.^  Even 
in  his  own  age,  no  doubt,  Henry  Bishop  of  Liege  was 
a  monster  of  depravity.  The  frightful  revelation  of 
his  life  is  from  an  admonitorv  letter  of  the  wise  and 
good  Pope  Gregory  X.  His  lust  was  promiscuous. 
He  kept  as  his  concubine  a  Benedictine  Abbess.  He 
had  boasted  in  a  public  banquet  that  in  twenty-two 
months  he  had  had  fourteen  children  bom.  This  was 
not  the  worst  —  there  was  foul  incest,  and  with  nuns. 
But  the  most  extraordinary  part  of  the  whole  is  that 
in  the  letter  the  Pope  seems  to  contemplate  only  the 
repentance  of  the  Prelate,  which  he  urges  with  the 
most  fervent  solemnity.  Henry's  own  prayers,  and 
the  intercessory  prayers  of  the  virtuous  —  some  such, 
no  doubt,  there  must  be  in  Liege  —  are  to  work  the 
change  ;   and  then  he  is  to  administer  his  Pontifical 

1  See  vol.  Tii.  p.  562.  Before  the  Council  of  Trent,  the  Elector  of  Ba- 
varia declared  in  a  public  document,  that  of  50  Clergv  very  few  were  not 
ooncubinarii.  —  Sarpi,  viii.  vii  p.  414.  See  for  Italy  references  to  Justini- 
ani,  Patriarch  of  Venice ;  St.  Antoninus,  Archbishop  of  Florence ;  Weissen- 
berg,  Kirchen  VerBammlnngeni  ii.  p.  229 ;  again  for  GermanVi  ii.  p.  228. 


Obap  L  morals  of  the  CLEB6T.  169 

office,  so  as  to  be  a  model  of  holiness,  as  he  had  been 
of  vice,  to  his  subjects.  As  to  suspension,  degradation, 
deposition,  there  is  not  a  word.  The  Pope's  lenity 
may  have  been  meant  to  lure  him  to  the  Council  of 
Lyons,  where  he  was  persuaded  to  abdicate  his  See.^ 
Hardly  less  repulsive,  in  some  respects  more  so,  as  it 
embraces  the  Clergy  and  some  of  the  convents  of  a 
whole  province,  is  the  disclosure,  as  undeniable  and 
authentic,  of  sacerdotal  morals,  in  the  Register  of  the 
Visitations  of  Eudes  Rigaud,  Archbishop  of  Rouen, 
firom  1248  to  1269.^  We  must  suppose  that  only  the 
Clergy  of  notorious  and  detected  incontinence  were 
presented  at  the  Visitation.  The  number  is  sufficiently 
appalling :  probably  it  comprehends,  without  much  dis- 
tinction, the  married  and  concubinarian,  as  well  as 
looser  Clergy.  There  is  one  convent  of  females,  which 
might  almost  have  put  Boccaccio  to  the  blush.  I  am 
bound  to  confess  that  the  Records  of  the  Visitations 
firom  St.  Paul's,  some  of  which  have  been  published 
not  without  reserve,  too  fully  vindicate  the  truth  of 
Langland,  Chaucer,  and  the  Satirists  against  the  Eng- 
lish Clergy  and  Friars  in  the  fourteeilth  century.^  And 


1  **  Circft  diriniim  qaoqae  et  pontificaie  officium  sic  te  Bednlnm  et  devo- 
tmn  ezhibere  **  '*  Subditi.*'  Henry  of  Liege  was  of  prmcelj  race,  of  tho 
botiM  of  Queldres,  Cousin  -  German  to  the  Priest  -  Emperor,  William  of 
Holland:  he  became  Bishop  when  a  mere  boy.  Concilia  sub  ann.  1274. 
Hocsemios,  Vit.  Episcop.  Leodens.  p.  399. 

^  Registrum  Archep.  Rotomagensium,  published  by  M.  Bonnin,  Bonen, 

1546.  It  is  full  of  other  curious  and  less  unedifying  matter. 

-  *  Precedents  in  Criminal  Causes  edited  by  Archdeacon  Hale,  London, 

1547.  Then  is  enough  in  these,  the  Visitations  themselves  make  matters 
worse.  It  is  cnrious  that  much  earlier  under  the  reign  of  K.  Stephen, 
the  Dean  Ralph  de  Diceto  speaks  of  the  **  focarise,'*  of  the  canons.  Mr. 
Vroude  has  published  from  the  Records  (in  Eraser's  Magazine,  Feb. 
1867)  the  visitation  of  a  later  time,  of  Archbishop  Morton.  The  g^reat 
Abbey  of  St  Alban's  was  in  a  state  which  hardly  bears  description. 


170  LATIN   CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 


these '.Visitations,  which  take  note  only  of 
licly  accused,  hardlj  reached,  if  tbey  did  reach,  the 
lowest  and  the  loosest.  Only  some  of  the  Monks,  none 
of  the  Wandering  Friars,  were  amenable  to  Episcopal 
or  Archidiaconal  jurisdiction.  Whether  we  call  it  by 
the  holier  name  of  marriage,  or  the  more  odious  one 
of  concubinage,  this,  the  weakness  or  the  sin  of  the 
Clergy,  could  not  be  committed  by  the  Monks  and 
Friars.  They,  mostly  with  less  education  and  less 
discipline,  spread  abroad  through  the  world,  had  far 
greater  temptations,  more  fatal  opportunities.  Though 
they  had,  no  doubt,  their  Saints,  not  only  Saints,  but 
numberless  nameless  recluses  of  admirable  piety,  un- 
impeachable holiness,  fervent  love  of  God  and  of  man, 
yet  of  the  profound  corruption  of  this  class  there  can 
be  no  doubt.  But  Latin,  Roman  Christianity,  would 
not,  could  not,  surrender  this  palladium  of  her  power.^ 
Time  and^  the  vicissitudes  in  political  affairs  had 
made  a  great  difference  in  the  power  of  the  Clergy  in 
the  principal  kingdoms  of  Europe.  In  Italy,  in  his 
double  character  of  Italian  potentate  and  as  the  PontiflF 
of  Christendom,  the  Pope,  after  the  discomfiture  of  the 
Council  of  Basle,  had  resumed  in  great  measure  his 
ascendency.  He  now  aspired  to  reign  supreme  over 
Letters  and  Arts.  But  from  this  time,  or  from  the 
close  of  this  century,  the  Italian  Potentate,  as  has  been 

1  The  Boman  view  is  thus  given  in  an  argument  before  the  Pope  by  the 
Cardinal  de  Carpi.  "  Del  matriinonio  de'  Preti  ne  seguirk  che  avendo  ca- 
Ba,  moglie,  figli,  non  dipenderanno  del  Papa,  ma  del  buo  Principe,  e  la 
caritadella  prole  gli  fara  condescendere  ad  ogni  pregiudizio  della  Chiesa; 
cercaranno  anco  di  far  i  benefici  ereditari,  ed  in  brevissimo  spatio  la  Sede 
Apostolica  si  ristrinj^ra  a  Roma.  Innanzi  che  fosse  instituto  il  celibato 
non  cavava  frutto  alcuno  la  Sede  Komana  deir  altre  citUi  e  regioni;  per 
qucllo  e  fatta  padrona  de  tanti  benefizif  di  quali  il  matrimonio  il  privarebbe 
In  breve  tempo."  —  Sarpi,  L.  v.  Opere,  v.  ii.  p.  77. 


Qttr.JC      POWER  OF  CLERGY  IS  DIFFERENT  CITIES.     171 

said,  began  to  predoniBnte  ever  the  Pope.  The  suo- 
cessor  of  St.  Peter  was  either  chosen  finm  one  of  the 
great  Italian  families,  or  aspired  to  found  a  great  iain- 
ilj.  Nepotism  became  at  once  the  strength  and  the 
infirmity,  the  glory  and  the  shame,  of  the  Papacy :  the 
strength,  as  converting  the  Popes  into  the  highest  rank 
of  Italian  princes ;  the  weakness,  as  inducing  them  to 
sacrifice  the  interests  of  the  Holy  See  to  the  promotion 
of  their  own  kindred:  the  glory,  as  seeing  their  de- 
scendants holding  the  highest  offices,  occupying  splen- 
did palaces,  possessors  of  vast  estates,  sovereigns  of 
principalities  ;  the  shame,  as  showing  too  often  a  feeble 
fondness  for  unworthy  relatives,  and  entailing  on  them- 
selves some  complicity  in  the  guilt,  the  profligacy  or 
wickedness  of  their  favored  kindred. 

While  the  Pope  thus  rose,  the  higher  Prelates  of 
Italy  seemed  to  sink,  with  no  loss,  perhaps,  itaiy. 
of  real  dignity,  into  their  proper  sphere.  The  Arch- 
bishops of  Milan,  Florence,  Genoa,  Ravenna,  are  ob- 
scured before  the  Yiscontis  and  Sforzas,  the  Medicis 
and  Dorias,  the  hereditary  Sovereigns,  the  princely 
Condottieri,  the  republican  Podestas,  or  the  Dukes. 
Venice  adhered  to  her  ancient  jealous  policy ;  she 
would  have  no  ambitious,  certainly  no  foreign,  Prelate 
within  her  lagoons.  She  was  for  some  time  content  to 
belong  to  the  province  of  an  Archbishop  hardly  within 
her  territory ;  and  that  Archbishop,  if  not  a  stranger 
within  her  walls,  had  no  share  in  Venetian  power  or 
wealth.  The  single  Bishop  ip  Venice  was  Bishop  of 
one  of  the  small  islands,  Castello.  Venice  was  first 
erected,  and  submitted  to  be  erected,  into  a  patriarch- 
ate by  Nicolas  V.*     When  she  admitted  a  Bishop  or  a 

1  Ughelli,  Italia  Sacra. 


172  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

Patriarch  (perhaps  because  no  one  of  inferioi  dignity 
must  appear  in  St.  Mark's},  that  Bishop  received  his 
investiture  of  his  temporal  possessions,  his  ring  and  pas- 
toral staff,  from  the  Doge.  No  Synods  could  be  held 
without  permission  of  the  Council.  It  was  not  till  after 
her  humiliation  by  the  League  of  Cambray  that  Venice 
would  admit  the  collation  of  Bishops  to  sees  within  her 
territories ;  even  then  they  must  be  native  Venetians. 
The  Superiors  of  the  Monasteries  and  Orders  were 
Venetians.  Even  Papal  vacancies  were  presented  to 
by  the  Venetian  Cardinals.  The  Republic  maintained 
and  exercised  the  right  of  censure  on  Venetian  Bishops 
and  on  Cardinals.  If  they  were  absent  or  contuma- 
cious their  offences  were  visited  on  their  families  ;  they 
were  exiled,  degraded,  banished.  The  parish  priests 
were  nominated  by  the  proprietors  in  the  parish.  There 
was  a  distinct,  severe,  inflexible  prohibition  to  the 
Clergy  of  all  Orders  to  intermeddle  in  political  affairs. 
Thus  did  Venice  insulate  herself  in  her  haughty  inde- 
pendence of  Papal  as  of  all  other  powers.^  Paolo 
Sarpi  could  write,  without  fear  of  the  fulminations  of 
Rome  :  he  had  only  to  guard  against  the  dagger  of  the 
papalizing  fanatic.  There  was  a  complete,  universal 
toleration  for  foreign  rites ;  Greek,  Armenian,  and  Mo- 
hammedan were  under  protection.  Prosecutions  for 
heresy  were  discouraged. 

Ravenna  had  long  ceased  to  be  the  rival  of  Rome ; 
the  Malatestas,  not  the  Archbishop,  were  her  Lords. 
The  younger  branches  of  the  great  princely  families, 
those  who  were  disposed  to  ease,  lettered  affluence,  and 
more  peaceful  pomp,  by  no  means  disdained  the  lofly 

1  Daru,  Hist,  de  Venise,  L.  xxviii.  c.  xi.    The  saying  —  Siaino  Yeneti- 
•ni,  poi  Cbristiani  —  was  their  boast  or  their  reproadL 


Chap.  I.  FRANCE.  178 

titles,  the  dignity,  the  splendid  and  wealthy  palaces  of 
the  Prelature :  some  aspired  to  the  Popedom.  Those 
too,  and  they  were  by  no  means  wanting,  who  were 
possessed  with  a  profound  sense  of  religion,  rose,  from 
better  motives  and  with  the  noblest  results,  to  the  hon- 
ors of  the  Church.  The  Roman  Golonnas,  the  Vene- 
tian Contarinis,  the  Lombard  Borromeos,  some  of  the 
holiest  men,  were  of  famous  or  Papal  houses.  The 
Medicis  gave  two  Popes,  Leo  X.  and  Clement  VII., 
princes  rath^  than  Saints,  to  the  throne  of  St.  Pe- 
ter. Few  Prelates,  however,  if  any,  excepting  Popes, 
founded  princely  families.  The  Republics,  the  Tyrants 
who  overthrew  or  undermined  the  Republics,  the  great 
Transalpine  powers  which  warred  for  the  mastery  of 
Italy,  warred  by  temporal  arms  alone.  No  Prelates 
took  the  field  or  plunged  into  politics,  except  the  Pope 
and  his  Cardinals ;  even  from  them  excommunications 
had  lost  their  power.  They  warred  with  the  ordi- 
nary instruments  of  war,  soldiers,  lances,  and  artillery. 
Every  other  Prelate  was  content  if  he  could  enjoy  his 
revenues  and  administer  his  diocese  in  peace.  In  gen- 
eral, even  the  least  religious  had  learned  the  wisdom  or 
necessity  of  decency  ;  the  more  accomplished  indulged 
in  the  patronage  of  letters  and  arts,  often  letters  and 
arts  Pagan  rather  than  Christian;  the  truly  religious 
rarely  wrought  their  religion  to  fanaticism  ;  they  shone 
with  the  light  of  the  milder  virtues,  and  spent  their 
superfluous  wealth  on  churches  and  on  ecclesiastical 
objects.  Christian  Art  had  its  papal,  its  prelatical,  its 
monastic  impulses. 

In  France  the  Pragmatic  Sanction,  not  repealed  till 
the  reign  of  Francis  I.,  left  the  disposal  of  the  Fnnoe. 
great  preferments  in  the  power  of  the  Crown.     But,  as 


174  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

has  been  said,  the  Pragmatic  Sanction  was  no  bold 
assertion  of  religious  freedom,  no  generous  effort  for 
the  emancipation  of  the  universal  Church.  The  Gral- 
lican  liberties  were  throughout  a  narrow,  national  claim 
to  a  special  and  peculiar  exemption  from  that  which  was 
acknowledged  to  be  elsewhere  an  unlimited  autocracy. 
The  claim  rested  on  its  own  grounds,  was  more  en- 
deared to  France  because  it  was  distinctive ;  it  was  a 
perpetual  appeal  to  the  national  vanity,  the  vindication 
of  a  privilege  of  which  men  are  more  fond  than  of  a 
common  right.  As  Bxt  exceptional  case,  though  in  di- 
red  contradiction  with  its  first  principle,  it  affirmed  in 
all  other  countries  the  plenary  indispensable  power  of 
the  Pope.^ 

The  civil  wars  of  the  Armagnacs  and  the  Burgun- 
dians,  the  wars  with  England,  threw  the  hierarchy  of 
France,  as  it  were,  into  the  shade ;  more  violent  im- 
pulses agitated  the  realm  than  struggles  for  power 
between  the  Church  and  State.^  The  Churchmen 
were  divided  in  these  fatal  quarrels :  like  the  nobles  of 
France,  there  were  Orleanist  and  Burgundian  Bishops. 
The  King  of  England  named  Bishops,  he  had  Bishops 
for  his  unscrupulous  partisans,  in  the  conquered  prov- 
inces of  France.  It  was  the  Bishop  of  Beauvais  — 
with  the  Inquisitors  of  France  —  who  condemned  Joan 
of  Arc  as  a  witch,  and  burned  her  at  the  stake.  In 
this   wicked,   contemptible,   and    hateful    process   the 

^  Gioberti  has  somewhere  declared  the  Gallican  Liberties  a  standing 
Antipope. 

^  The  Parliament  of  Poitiers  compelled  Charles  VII.  to  renounce  an  ordi- 
nance, Feb.  14,  U24,  which  they  refused  to  register,  restoring  to  the  Pope 
the  nomination  to  the  Benefices.  This  weak  concession  had  been  obtained 
from  the  King  by  the  Queen  of  Sicily.  The  Parliament  declared  the  ordi- 
nance surreptitious,  and  contrary  to  the  rights  of  the  Bishops. — Ordon- 
nances  des  Rois,  Preface,  t.  xiii.    Sismondi,  Hist,  des  Fran9ai8,  xiii.  64. 


Chap.  I.  SPAIN  —  GERMANY.  175 

Church  must  share  the  guilt  with  England.  High 
feudal  names  during  all  this  period  are  found  in  the 
hierarchy  of  France,  but  the  rich  prelacies  and  abba- 
cies had  not  yet  become  to  such  an  extent  as  hereafter 
the  appanages  of  the  younger  branches  of  the  noble 
families.  So  long  as  the  King  possessed  the  inappre- 
ciable prerogative  of  rewarding  the  faithful,  or  pur- 
chasing the  wavering  loyalty  of  those  dangerous,  once 
almost  coequal,  subjects  by  the  bestowal  of  benefices, 
this  power  had  no  inconsiderable  influence  on  the 
growth  of  the  royal  authority.  At  all  events,  the 
Church  offered  no  resistance  to  the  consolidation  of 
the  kingly  power ;  the  ecclesiastical  nobles  were  most- 
ly the  obsequious  partisans  of  the  Crown. 

In  Spain  the  Church  had  not  begun  to  rule  her 
Kings  with  absolute  sway,  or  rather  her  8|wd». 
Kings  had  not  yet  become  in  mind  and  heart  Church- 
men. The  Crusade  still  continued  against  the  Mo- 
hammedan, who  was  slowly  and  stubbornly  receding 
before  the  separate  kingdoms,  Castile,  Arragon,  Portu- 
gal. Spain  had  not  yet  begun  —  might  seem  unlikely 
to  begin  —  her  crusade  against  the  rising  religious  liber- 
ties of  Europe.  She  aspired  not  to  be  the  Champion, 
and,  as  the  Champion,  the  Sovereign  of  Latin  Christen- 
dom ;  she  had  given  to  the  Church  St.  Dominic,  she  had 
yet  to  give  Ximenes,  Philip  II.,  Torquemada,  Loyola. 

In  Germany  the  strife  of  the  Papacy  and  the  Empire 
seemed  altogether  worn  out ;  the  Emperor  oennany. 
was  content  to  be  a  German  Sovereign,  the  Pope  to 
leave  the  German  sovereignty  to  the  German  Electors. 
The  Concordat  and  the  Articles  of  Aschaffenburg  had 
established  a  truce  which  might  settle  down  into  peace. 
If  the  Pope  had  been  satisfied  to  receive,  Germany 


176  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

would  hardly  have  been  unwilling  to  pay,  the  stipu- 
lated, before  long  the  customary,  tribute.  The  Bishop- 
Electors  no  longer  took  the  lead,  or  dictated  to  the 
Prince-Electors.  In  general  they  were  quietly  magniii- 
cent,  rather  than  turbulent  or  aggressive  Prelates.  Still 
the  possession  of  three  out  of  the  seven  suffrages  for  the 
Empire  maintained  at  once  the  dignity  of  the  Church, 
and  made  these  prizes  objects  of  ambition  to  the  prince- 
ly houses  of  Germany.^  Nor  did  these  archbishoprics 
stand  alone.  Metropolitans  like  those  of  Saltzburg, 
Prague,  Olmutz,  Magdeburg ;  Bishops  in  the  flourish- 
ing cities  of  the  Rhine,  Worms,  Spiers,  Strasburg,  or 
in  its  neighborhood,  Wurtzburg,  Bamberg,  Passau, 
Batisbon,  were,  in  their  domains,  privileges,  feudal 
rights,  and  seignoralties,  principalities.  Yet  all  was 
apparent  submission,  harmony,  mutual  respect;  per- 
haps the  terrors  of  the  Turkish  invasion,  equally  formi- 
dable to  Pope  and  Emperor,  aided  in  keeping  the 
peace.  The  balance  of  power  was  rather  that  of  the 
Prince  Electors  and  Princes  of  the  Empire  against  the 
Emperor  and  the  Pope,  than  of  Emperor  against  Pope.' 
The  estrangement  from  the  Papal  dominion,  the  once 
clamorous  demand  for  the  reformation  of  the  Church, 
the  yearning  after  Teutonic  independence,  had  sunk 
into  the  depths  of  the  national  mind,  into  which  it  could 
not  be  followed  by  the  most  sagacious  political  or  re- 
ligious seer.  The  deep,  silent,  popular  religious  move- 
ment, from  Master  Eckhart,   from  the  author  of  the 

1  In  the  fifteenth  century,  indeed,  the  BUboprics  began  to  be  commoolj 
bestowed  on  the  yo anger  sons  of  Sovereign  Princes;  the  Court  of  Borne 
&vored  this  practice,  from  the  conviction  that  the  Chapters  could  only  be 
kept  in  order  by  the  strong  hand  and  the  authority  of  Sovereign  power 
&c.  —  Ranke's  Germany,  Mrs.  Austen^s  Translation,  i.  p.  68.    . 

s  Compare  the  Introduction  of  Ranke. 


Chap.  I.  EKGLAND.  177 

Book  on  the  Imitation  of  Christ,  and  from  Tauler, 
above  all,  from  the  author  of  the  German  Theology 
and  his  disciples,  might  seem  as  if  it  was  amassing 
strength  upon  the  foundation  of  Latin  Christianity  and 
the  hierarchical  system ;  while  these  writers  were  the 
monitory  signs,  and  as  far  as  showing  the  uncongeni- 
ality  of  the  Latin  and  Teutonic  mind,  the  harbingers 
of  the  coming  revolution. 

England  had  long  ceased  to  be  the  richest  and  most 
obedient  tributary  province  of  the  Holy  See.  The 
Statutes  of  Mortmain,  Provisors,  Praemunire,  had  be- 
come the  law  of  the  land.  Peers  and  Conmions  had 
united  in  the  same  jealousy  of  the  exorbitant  power 
and  influence  of  the  Pope.  The  remonstrances  of  the 
Popes  against  these  laws  had  broken  and  scattered  like 
foam  upon  the  rocks  of  English  pride  and  English  jus- 
tice.* The  Clergy,  as  one  of  the  estates  of  the  realm, 
hold  their  separate  Parliament,  grant  their  subsidies  or 
benevolences ;  but  they  now  take  a  humbler  tone, 
meekly  deprecate  rather  than  fulminate  anathemas 
against  those  who  invade  their  privileges  and  immuni- 
ties. Trembling  for  their  own  power,  they  care  not  to 
vindicate  with  offensive  haughtiness  that  of  the  Pope. 
The  hierarchy,  awed  by  the  spreading  opinions  of  the 
Lollards,  had  thrown  themselves  for  protection  under  the 
usurping  hoase  of  Lancaster,  and  had  been  accepted  as 
&ithful  allies  of  the  Crown  under  Henry  IV.    Though 

^  Under  Hcniy  IV.,  the  Parliament  resolves  that  the  Pope*8  collector, 
though  he  had  the  Pope's  Ball  for  this  purpose,  hath  no  jurisdiction  within 
this  realm.  — 1  Henry  IV.  The  Prasmunire  is  confirmed  against  unlawftil 
communication  with  Rome,  at  the  same  time  that  the  Act  against  heresy 
is  passed;  and  this  act  is  not  a  Canon  of  the  Church,  but  a  Statute  of  the 
Bealm.  —  Parliamentary  History. 
VOL.  viu.  19 


178  LATIN  CHRISIIANTIT.  Book  XIV. 

the  Archbifiliop  of  York  is  at  the  head  of  the  great 
Northern  insurrection,  on  Henry's  side  are  tlie  sacces* 
sive  Primates  of  Canterbury,  Arundel,  and  Conrtenay. 
It  might  seem  that  the  Pope  and  the  CroTrn,  by  ad* 
Tancing  Englishmen  of  the  noble  houses  to  the  Pri* 
macy,  had  deliberately  determined  on  a  league  with 
the  Lords  against  the  civil  and  spiritual  democracy  — * 
on  one  side  of  Wat  Tyler  and  Jack  Straw,  on  the  other 
of  the  extreme  followers  of  Wyclifle.  The  first  act  of 
this  tacit  league  was  to  establish  the  throne  of  Henry 
Bolingbroke  and  put  in  execution  the  burning  statute 
against  heretics.  It  cannot  be  doubted  that  Archbishc^ 
Chicheley,  in  his  suppoii;  of  the  French  war,  sought 
less  to  propitiate  the  royal  favor  than  to  discharge  on 
France  some  of  the  perilous  turbulence  which  was  fer- 
menting in  England.  At  the  commencement  of  H«iry 
VI.  the  Cardinal  Beaufort  of  Winchester  is  striving 
for  supreme  power  with  the  Duke  of  Gloucester ;  but 
Beaufort  is  a  Prince  of  the  blood,  uncle  of  the  King, 
as  well  as  Bishop  and  Cardinal.^  In  the  French  wars, 
and  the  civil  wars,  the  Bishops  seem  to  have  shrunk 
into  their  proper  and  more  peacefiil  sphere.  Chicheley 
was  content  with  blowing  the  trumpet  in  the  Parlia- 
ment in  London ;  he  did  not  follow  the  King  with  the 
armed  retainers  of  Canterbury.  The  high  places  of 
the  Church  —  though  so  many  of  the  younger  as  well 
as  the  elder  sons  of  the  nobility  found  more  conge- 
nial occupation  in  the  fields  of  France  —  were  rarely 
A.i).i448.  left  to  men  of  humbler  birth.  Stafford, 
who  succeeded  Chicheley,  was  of  the  house  of  the 

^  Among  the  Ambassadors  of  England  to  Basle  were  the  Bishops  of 
London,  Lisieux,  Rochester,  Bayeux,  and  Aix,  and  other  English  and  Nor- 
man divines.  —See  Commission,  Fuller's  Church  History,  p.  ITS. 


Chap.L  high  places  OF  THE  CHURCH.  179 

Counts  of  Stafford,  Bourchier  of  the  Earls  of  Essex.^ 
Neville,  brother  of  the  Earl  of  Warwick,  a.d.  1464. 
was  Archbishop  of  York.*  In  the  wars  of  the  Roses, 
the  Nobles,  the  Somersets,  Buckinghams,  Warwicks, 
Cliffords  —  not  the  Canterburies,  Yorks,  or  Londons—- > 
are  at  the  head  of  the  conflicting  parties.  The  ban- 
ners of  Bishops  and  Abbots  wave  not  over  the  fields  of 
Barnet,  Towton,  Wakefield,  St.  Alban's,  Tewkesbury, 
It  is  not  till  the  war  is  over  that  they  resume  their  seat 
or  authority  in  the  Parliament  or  Council  board.  They 
acknowledge  and  do  homage  to  the  conquers,  York  or 
Lancastrian,  or,  like  Henry  YII.,^  blending  the  two 
titles.  From  that  time  the  Archbishop  is  the  first  sul>- 
ject  in  the  realm,  but  in  every  respect  a  subject  Some 
of  the  great  English  Prelates,  firom  Wykeham  to  Wol- 
sey,  seem  to  have  been  more  prescient  than  those  in 
other  kingdoms  of  the  coming  change.  It  is  shown  in 
their  consecration  of  large  masses  of  ecclesiastical 
wealth  and  landed  property  for  the  foundation  of  col- 

1  Chicheley  was  said  to  be  the  son  of  a  tailor.  —  Fuller,  p.  182.  His  bi- 
ographer rather  confirms  thiSf  speaking  respectfulljr  of  It  as  a  reputAbte 
tiade,  p.  S. 

3  The  Pope  still  maintained  the  form  of  the  appointment  to  the  Primacy. 
As  in  a  case  cited  abore  of  York,  the  monks  of  Canterbury  elected  Chi- 
ebeley  (no  doubt  under  royal  influence).  The  Pope  refused  the  nominatiim, 
but  himself  appointed  Chicheley  by  a  Papal  proWsion.  Chicheley  would 
not  accept  the  Primacy  till  authorized  by  the  King.  Stafford's  successor, 
Kemp,  was  in  like  numner  elected  by  the  Honks,  refVued,  and  then  nomir 
oated  of  his  own  authority  by  the  Pope.  —  Godwin,  in  Chicheley  and  Kemp. 
The  Pope  confirmed  the  election  of  Bourchier. —  Godwin,  in  'Bourchier. 
The  Pope  was  thus  content  with  a  specious  maintenance  of  his  right,  the 
more  practical  English  with  the  possession  of  the  real  power. 

'  "  This  king's  reign  «fforded  little  Church  storie,"  says  Fuller.  He  fills 
It  up  with  an  account  of  an  enormous  banquet  given  by  Neville,  Archbish- 
op of  York.  Neville  could  not  help  being  a  politician,  when  Edward,  after- 
wards the  I  V.th,  was  a  prisoner.  He  was  in  the  custody  of  Neville,  who 
docj*  not  seem  to  have  watched  him  too  carefully.  Neville  was  seized  and 
■ent  priaoaer  to  Calais  by  Edward  IV. 


180  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

leges  rather  than  monasteries,  by  Wykeham,  Wainfleet, 
Fox,  Wolsey.  It  can  hardly  be  doubted  that  some 
wise  Churchman  suggested  the  noble  design  of  Henry 
VI.  in  the  endowment  of  King's  at  Cambridge  and  of 
Eton.  Wolsey's  more  magnificent  projects  seem,  as  it 
were,  to  be  arming  the  Church  for  some  imminent  con- 
test ;  they  reveal  a  sagacious  foreknowledge  that  the 
Church  must  take  new  ground  if  she  will  maintain  her 
rule  over  the  mind  of  man. 

Still  on  the  whole  throughout  Christendom  the  vast 
Power  of  fiibric  of  the  hierarchy  stood  unshaken.  In 
nnflhAken.  England  aloue  there  was  suppressed  insurrec- 
tion among  the  followers  of  Wycliffe,  now  obscure  and 
depressed  by  persecution ;  and  in  Bohemia.  There  the 
irresistible  armies  of  Ziska  and  Procopius  had  not  only 
threatened  to  found  an  anti-hierarchical  State,  but  for 
the  mutual  antipathy  between  the  Sclavonian  and  Teu- 
tonic races,  they  might  have  drawn  Grermany  into  the 
revolt.  But  Bohemia,  again  bowed  under  hierarchical 
supremacy,  was  brooding  in  sullen  sorrow  over  her  lost 
independence.  In  no  other  land,  except  in  individual 
minds  or  small  despised  sects,  was  there  any  thought, 
any  yearning  for  the  abrogation  of  the  sacerdotal  au- 
thority. The  belief  was  universal,  it  was  a  part  of  the 
common  Christianity,  that  a  mysterious  power  dwelt 
in  the  hierarchy,  in'espective  of  the  sanctity  of  their 
own  lives,  and  not  dependent  on  their  greater  knowl- 
edge, through  study,  of  Divine  revelation,  which  made 
their  mediation  absolutely  necessary  to  escape  eternal 
perdition  and  to  attain  eternal  life.  The  keys  were  in 
their  hands,  not  to  unlock  the  hidden  treasures  of 
Divine  wisdom  in  the  Gospels,  or  solely  to  bind  and 
loose  by  the  administration  of  the  great  Sacraments; 


Chap.  I.         POWER  OF  HIERARCHY  UNSHAKEN.  181 

but  the  keys  absolutely  of  Heaven  or  Hell.  Not, 
indeed,  T;hat  death  withdrew  the  soul  from  the  power 
of  the  Priest;  not  even  after  it  departed  fit)m  the 
body  was  it  left  to  the  unerring  judgment,  to  the 
inexhaustible  mercy,  of  the  one  All-seeing  Judge. 
In  purgatory  the  Priest  still  held  in  his  hands  the 
doom  of  the  dead  man.  This  doom,  in  the  depths  of 
the  other  world,  was  hardly  a  secret.  The  torments  of 
purgatory  (and  the  precincts  of  purgatory  were  widened 
infinitely — very  few  were  so  holy  as  to  escape,  few  so 
desperately  lost  as  not  to  be  admitted  to  purgatorial 
probation)  might  be  mitigated  by  the  expiatory  masses, 
masses  purchased  by  the  wealthy  at  the  price  dictated 
by  the  Priest,  and  which  rarely  could  be  gained  with- 
out some  sacrifice  by  the  broken-hearted  relative  or 
friend.  They  were  more  often  lavishly  provided  for 
by  the  dying  sinner  in  his  will,  when  wealth  clung  to 
with  such  desperate  tenacity  in  life  is  thrown  away 
with  as  desperate  recklessness.  This  religion,  in  which 
man  ceased  to  be  the  guardian  of  his  own  soul  —  with 
all  its  unspeakable  terrors,  with  all  its  unspeakable 
consolations  (for  what  weak  mind  —  and  whose  mind 
on  such  points  was  not  weak?  —  would  not  hold  as 
inestimable  the  certain  distinct  priestly  absolution,  or 
the  prayers  of  the  Church  for  the  dead),  —  this  vicari- 
ous religion  was  as  much  part  of  the  ordinary  faith,  as 
much  an  article  of  Latin  Christianity,  as  the  retribu- 
tive judgment  of  God,  as  the  redemption  through 
Christ. 

It  is  difficult  (however  vain  it  may  be)  not  to  specu- 
late how  far  the  conservative  reformation  in  the  Pope 
and  in  the  Hierarchy,  urged  so  earnestly  and  elo- 
quently by  Gerson   and   D'Ailly,  more  vehemently 


182  LATIN  CHRISTUNITT.  Book  XIV. 

and  therefore  more  altrminglji  by  the  Council  of 
Basle,  might  have  averted  or  delayed  the  mcfre  revo- 
lutionary reform  of  the  next  century.  Had  not  the 
Papacy,  had  not  the  Hierarchy,  with  almost  judicial 
blindness,  thrown  itself  across  the  awakening  moral 
sense  of  man ;  had  it  not,  by  the  invidious  possession, 
the  more  invidious  accumulation,  of  power  and  wealth, 
with  all  the  inevitable  abuses  in  the  acquisition,  in  the 
employment,  of  that  power  and  wealth,  aggravated 
rather  than  mitigated  their  despotic  yoke ;  had  they 
not  by  such  reckless  defiance  as  the  lavish  preaching 
of  Indulgences  by  profligate  and  insolent  men,  in- 
sulted the  rising  impatience,  and  shown  too  glaringly 
the  wide  disruption  and  distance  between  the  moral 
and  the  ritual  elements  of  religion ;  had  not  this  fla- 
grant incongruity  of  asserting  the  Divine  power  of 
Christ  to  be  vested  in  men,  to  so  great  an  extent 
utterly  unchristian,  compelled  reflection,  doubt,  dis^ 
belief — at  length  indignant  reprobation  —  would  the 
crisis  have  come  when  it  came?  Who  would  have 
had  the  courage  to  assume  the  responsibility  for  his 
own  soul  ?  Who  would  have  renounced  the  privilege 
of  absolution  ?  Who  would  have  thrown  himself  on 
the  vaguer,  less  material,  less  palpable,  less,  may  it  be 
said,  audible  mercy  of  Grod  in  Christ,  and  in  Christ 
alone?  Who  would  have  withdrawn  from  what  at 
least  seemed  to  be,  what  was  asserted  and  believed  to 
be,  the  visible  Church,  in  which  the  signs  and  tokens 
of  Divine  grace  and  favor  were  all  definite,  distinct, 
cognizable  by  the  senses ;  were  seen,  heard,  felt,  and 
not  alone  by  the  inward  consciousness  ?  Who  would 
have  contented  himself  with  being  of  that  Invisible 
Church,  of  which  the  only  sign  was  tlie  answer  of  the 


OiCAP.  I.  SPECULATIONS.  183 

good  conscience  within,  faith  and  hope  nngnaranteed 
by  any  earthly* mediator,  unassured  by  any  authoritar 
tive  form  of  words  or  outward  ceremony?  Who 
would  have  rested  in  trembling  hope  on  the  witness 
of  the  Spirit  of  God,  concurrent  with  the  testimony 
of  the  spirit  within  ?  We  may  imagine  a  more  noise- 
less, peaceful,  alas,  we  must  add,  bloodless  change  I 
We  may  imagine  the  Gospel,  now  newly  revealed,  as 
it  were,  in  its  original  language  (the  older  Testament 
in  its  native  Hebrew),  and  illustrated  by  the  earlier 
Greek  Fathers,  translated  into  all  living  languages, 
and  by  the  new  art  of  Printing  become  of  general 
and  familiar  use,  gradually  dispersing  all  the  clouds 
of  wild  allegoric  interpretation,  of  mythology,  and 
materialism,  which  had  been  gathering  over  it  for 
centuries,  and  thus  returning  to  its  few  majestic  pri- 
mal truths  in  the  Apostolic  Creed.  We  may  even 
imagine  the  Hierarchy  receding  into  their  older  sphere, 
instructors,  examples  in  their  families  as  in  themselves, 
of  all  the  virtues  and  charities ;  the  religious  adminis- 
trators of  simpler  rites.  Yet  who  that  calmly,  philo- 
sophically, it  may  almost  be  said  religiously,  surveys 
the  power  and  strength  of  the  Latin  religion,  the  re- 
ligion of  centuries,  the  religion  of  a  continent — its 
extraordinary  and  felicitous  adaptation  to  all  the  wants 
and  necessities  of  man  —  its  sympathy  with  some  of 
the  dominant  Acuities  of  our  being,  those  especially 
developed  at  certain  periods  of  civilization  —  its  unity 
—  its  magisterial  authority  —  the  depth  to  which  it 
had  sunk  in  the  human  heart  —  the  feelings,  affections, 
passions,  fears,  hopes,  which  it  commanded :  wlio  that 
surveys  it  in  its  vast  standing  army  of  the  Clergy,  and 
Monks  and  Friars,  that  had  so  long  taken  service  in 


184  LATIN  CHRISTUNITT.  Book  XIV. 

its  defence,  with  its  immense  material  strength  of 
Churches,  Monasteries,  Established  Laws,  Rank ;  in 
its  Letters,  and  in  its  Arts;  in  its  charitable,  educa- 
tional. Institutions:  who  will  not  rather  wonder  at 
its  dissolution,  its  abolition  in  so  large  a  part  of  Chris- 
tendom, than  at  its  duration  ?  It  is  not  so  marvellous 
that  it  resisted,  and  resisted  with  success ;  that  it  threw 
back  in  some  kingdoms,  for  a  time,  the  inevitable 
change;  that  it  postponed  in  some  until  a  more  re- 
mote, more  terrible  and  iatal  rebellion  some  centuries 
after,  the  detrusion  from  its  autocratic,  despotic  throne. 
Who  shall  be  astonished  that  Latin  Christianity  so 
long  maintained  a  large  part  of  the  world  at  least  in 
nominal  subjection  ;  or  finally,  that  it  still  maintains 
the  contest  with  its  rival  Teutonic  Christianity  with- 
out, and  the  more  dangerous,  because  unavowed,  re- 
volt within  its  own  pale  —  the  revolt  of  those  who,  in 
appearance  its  subjects,  either  altogether  disdain  its 
control,  and,  not  able  to  accept  its  belief  and  disci- 
pline, compromise  by  a  hollow  acquiescence,  or  an 
unregarded,  unpunished  neglect  of  all  discipline,  for 
total  inward  rejection  of  belief? 


CBAP.n.  UmTT  OF  CREED.  185 


CHAPTER   II. 

BELIEF  OF  LATIN  CHRISTLOTITT. 

Latin  Christendom,  or  rather  tmiyersal  Christen- 
dom, was  one  (excepting  those  who  were  u„,^  ^ 
self-outlawed,  or  outlawed  by  the  dominant**^ 
authority  from  the  Christian  monarchy),  not  only  in 
the  organization  of  the  all-ruling  Hierarchy  and  the 
admission  of  Monkhood,  it  was  one  in  the  great  system 
of  Belief.  With  the  exception  of  the  single  article  of 
the  procession  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  the  Nicene  formulary 
had  been  undisturbed,  and  had  ruled  with  undisputed 
sway  for  centuries.  The  procession  of  the  Proc«Mion 
Holy  Ghost  from  the  Son  as  well  as  the  ohMt. 
Father  was  undoubtedly  the  doctrine  of  the  early  Latin 
writers ;  but  this  tenet  stole  noiselessly — it  is  not  quite 
certain  at  what  time  —  into  the  Creed.  That  Creed, 
framed  at  the  great  Council  of  Nicea,  had  been  re- 
ceived with  equal  unanimity  by  the  Greek  and  Latin 
Churches.  Both  Churches  had  subscribed  to  the  anath- 
emas pronounced  by  the  second  Council  of  Constan- 
tinople, and  ratified  by  the  first  Council  of  Ephesus, 
against  any  Church  which  should  presume  to  add  one 
word  or  letter  to  that  Creed.  Public  documents  in 
Rome  showed  that  Pope  Leo  III.  had  inscribed  on  a 
silver  tablet  the  Creed  of  Rome  without  the  words 
^^  from  the  Son,"  as  the  authorized  faith  of  the  Latin 


186  LATIK  CHBISTIANITT.  BoocXIY. 

Clmrch.  In  the  great  quarrel  with  Photius,  the 
Greeks  discovered,  and  charged  against  the  Latins, 
this  audacious  violation  of  the  decrees  of  the  Councils, 
this  unauthorized  impious  addition  to  the  unalterable 
Creed  of  Nicea.  The  Patriarch  of  Constantinople 
charged  it,  justly  or  unjustly,  against  his  own  enemy, 
Nicolas  I.^  In  the  strife  with  Michael  Cerularius, 
at  the  final  disruption  between  the  two  Churches, 
this  was  one  of  the  inexpiable  offences  of  the  Latin 
▲.».i06]k  Church,  The  admission  of  the  obnoxious 
article  by  the  Greeks  at  the  Council  of  Florence  waa 
indignantly  repudiated,  on  the  return  of  the  Legates 
from  the  Council,  by  the  Greek  Church.  But  tho 
whole  of  Latin  Christendom  disdained  to  give  ear 
to  the  protest  of  the  Greeks ;  the  article  remained^ 
with  no  remonstrance  whatever  from  the  West,  in  the 
general  Latin  Creed. 

But  the  Creeds  —  that  of  the  Apostles,  that  oi 
Unity  of  Nicea,  or  even  that  ascribed  to  St.  Athan»> 
religion.  sius,  and  chanted  in  every  church  of  tho 
West  —  formed  but  a  small  part  of  the  belief  of  Latiti 
Christendom.  That  whole  world  was  one  in  the  pop* 
ular  religion.  The  same  vast  mythology  commanded 
the  general  consent ;  the  same  angelology,  demonol- 
ogy ;  the  same  worship  of  the  Virgin  and  the  Saints, 
the  same  reverence  for  pilgrimages  and  relics,  the  same 
notions  of  the  life  to  come,  of  Hell,  Purgatory,  Heav- 
en. In  general,  as  springing  out  of  like  tendencies  and 
prepossesuons  of  mind,  prevailed  the  like  or  kindred 


1 1  knpw  BO  more  brief  or  better  luminarr  of  the  controveny  than  tha 
common  one  in  Pearson  on  the  Creed.  I  have  some  doubts  whether  the  ao- 
cQsation  of  Photiuf^  as  to  its  infioduction,  ia  personal  against  Pope  Nicolaa 
or  against  the  Roman  Chnwb. 


Chap.il         unity  of  populak  religion.  187 

traditions ;  the  world  was  one  in  the  same  vulgar  su* 
perstitions*  Already,  as  has  been  seen,  at  the  close  of 
the  sixth  century,  during  the  Pontificate  of  Gregory 
the  Great,  the  Christianization  not  only  of  the  specu-' 
lative  belief  of  man,  of  that  which  may  justly  be  called 
the  religion  of  man,  was  complete :  but  no  le^s  com- 
plete was  the  Christianization,  if  it  may  be  so  said,  of 
the  lingering  Paganism.  Man  had  divinized  all  those 
objects  of  awe  and  veneration,  which  rose  up  in  new 
forms  out  of  his  old  religion,  and  which  were  inter^ 
mediate  between  the  Soul  and  God,  '^  God,'*  that  is, 
^^in  Christ,"  as  revealed  in  the  Gospels.  Tradition 
claimed  equal  authority  with  the  New  Testament. 
There  was  supposed  to  be  a  perpetual  power  in  the 
Church,  and  in  the  Hierarchy  the  Ruler  and  Teacher 
of  the  Church,  of  infinitely  expanding  and  multiplying 
the  objects  of  faith  ;  at  length,  of  gradually  authorizing 
and  superinducing  as  integral  paits  of  Christianity  the 
whole  imaginative  belief  of  the  Middle  Ages.  Even 
where  such  belief  had  not  been  canonically  enacted  by 
Pope  or  Council,  the  tacit  acceptance  by  the  general 
practice  of  Priest  as  well  as  of  people  was  not  less  au- 
thoritative ;  popular  adoration  invested  its  own  objects 
in  uncontested  sanctity.  Already  the  angelic  Hierar- 
chy, if  not  in  its  full  organization,  had  taken  its  place 
between  mankind  and  God ;  already  the  Virgin  Mary 
was  rising,  or  had  fully  risen,  into  Deity ;  already 
prayers  rarely  ascended  directly  to  the  throne  of  grace 
through  the  one  Intercessor,  a  crowd  of  mediate  agen« 
cies  was  almost  necessary  to  speed  the  orison  upward, 
and  to  commend  its  acceptance,  as  it  might  thwart  its 
blessing.  Places,  things,  had  assumed  an  inalienable 
holiness,  with  a  concentred  and  emanative  power  of 


188  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

imparting  or  withholding  spiritual  influences.  Great 
prolific  principles  had  been  laid  down,  and  had  only  to 
work  in  the  congenial  soil  of  the  human  mind.  Now, 
by  the  infusion  of  the  Barbaric  or  Teutonic  element, 
as  well  as  by  the  religious  movement  which  had  stiiTed 
to  its  depths  the  old  Roman  society,  mankind  might 
seem  renewing  its  youth,  its  spring-time  of  life,  with 
all  its  imaginative  creativeness,  and  its  unceasing  sur- 
render to  whatever  appeared  to  satisfy  the  yearnings 
of  its  hardly  satisfied  faith. 

There  was  unity  in  the  infinite  diversity  of  the  pop- 
ular worship.  Though  each  nation,  province,  parish, 
shrine,  had  its  peculiar  and  tutelar  Saint,  none  was 
without  a  Saint,  and  none  denied  the  influence  of  the 
Saints  of  others.  Christianity  was  one  in  this  mate- 
rialistic intercommunion  between  the  world  of  man  and 
the  extramundane  ;  that  ulterior  sphere,  in  its  purer 
corporeity,  yet  still,  in  its  corporeity,  was  perpetually 
becoming  cognizable  to  the  senses  of  man.  It  was  one 
in  the  impersonation  of  all  the  agencies  of  nature, 
in  that  universal  Anthropomorphism,  which,  if  it  left 
something  of  vague  and  indefinite  majesty  to  the  Pri- 
mal Parental  Godhead,  this  was  not  from  any  high 
intellectual  or  mental  conception  of  the  incongruity  of 
the  human  and  divine ;  not  from  dread  of  the  dispar- 
agement of  the  Absolute  and  the  Infinite ;  from  no 
predilection  for  the  true  sublimity  of  higher  Spiritual- 
ism ;  but  simply  because  its  worship,  content  to  rest  on 
a  lower  sphere,  humanized  all  which  it  actually  adored, 
without  scruple,  without  limit ;  and  this  not  in  lan- 
guage only,  but  in  its  highest  conception  of  its  real 
existence. 

All  below  the  Godhead  was  materialized  to  the 


Obap.  n.  ANGELS.  189 

thought.  Even  within  the  great  Triune  Deity  the 
Son  still  wore  the  actual  flesh  which  he  had  assumed 
on  earth  ;  the  Holy  Ghost  became  a  Dove,  not  as  a 
symbol,  but  as  a  constantly  indwelt  form.  All  beyond 
this  supercelestial  sphere,  into  which,  however  contro- 
versial zeal  might  trespass,  awful  reverence  yet  left  in 
it  some  majestic  indistinctness,  and  some  confessed  mys- 
terious transcendentalism ;  all  lower,  nearer  to  the  world 
of  man,  angels  and  devils,  the  spirits  of  the  condemned 
and  the  beatified  Saints,  were  in  form,  in  substance 
however  subtilized,  in  active  only  enlarged  powers,  in 
affections,  hatred  or  attachment,  in  passions,  nothing 
more  than  other  races  of  human  beings. 

There  was  the  world  of  Angels  and  of  Devils.  The 
earlier  faith,  that  of  Gregory  the  Great,  had  Angei*. 
contented  itself  with  the  notions  of  Angels  as  dimly 
revealed  in  the  Scriptures.  It  may  be  doubted  if  any 
names  of  angels,  except  those  in  the  Sacred  Writings, 
Michael,  Gabriel,  Raphael,  or  any  acts  not  imagined 
according  to  the  type  and  precedent  of  the  angelic  vis- 
itations in  the  Old  and  New  Testament,  will  be  found 
in  the  earlier  Fathers.  But  by  degrees  the  Hierarchy 
of  Heaven  was  disclosed  to  the  ready  faith  of  mankind, 
at  once  the  glorious  type  and  with  all  the  regular  grada- 
tions and  ranks  of  the  Hierarchy  upon  Earth.  There 
was  a  great  celestial  Church  above,  not  of  the  beatified 
Saints,  but  of  those  higher  than  human  Beings  whom 
St.  Paul  had  given  some  ground  to  distinguish  by 
different  titles,  titles  which  seemed  to  imply  different 
ranks  and  powers. 

Latin  Christendom  did  not  give  birth  to  the  writer 
who,  in  this  and  in  another  department,  influenced 
most  powerfully  the  Latin  mind.     The  author  of  those 


190  LATIN  CHBISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

extraordinarj  treatises  "which,  from  their  obscure  and 
doubtful  parentage,  now  perhaps  hardly  maintain  their 
fame  for  imaginative  richness,  for  the  occasional  beautj 
of  their  language,  and  their  deep  piety  —  those  trea- 
tises which,  widely  popular  in  the  West,  almost  created 
the  angel-worahip  of  the  popular  creed,  and  were  also 
the  parents  of  Mystic  Theology  and  of  the  higher 
Scholasticism  —  this  Poet-Theologian  was  a  Greek. 
The  writings  which  bear  the  venerable  name  of 
iMonyninBthe  Diouysius  the  Areopagite,  the  proselyte  of 
▲reopogite.  gj.^  Paul,  first  appear  under  a  suspicious  and 
suspected  form,  as  authorities  cited  by  the  heterodox 
Severians  in  a  conference  at  Constantinople.^  The 
orthodox  stood  aghast :  how  was  it  that  writings  of  the 
holy  Convert  of  St.  Paul  had  never  been  heard  of 
before  ?  that  Cyril  of  Alexandria,  that  Athanasim 
himself,  were  ignorant  of  their  existence?  But  tlieae 
writings  were  in  themselves  of  too  great  power,  too 
captivating,  too  congenial  to  the  monastic  mind,  not  to 
find  bold  defenders.^  Bearing  this  venerable  name  in 
their  front,  and  leaving  behind  them,  in  the  Ektst,  if  at 
first  a  doubtiul,  a  growing  faith  in  their  authenticity,' 
they  appeared  in  the  West  as  a  precious  gifl  from  the 
Byzantine  Emperor  to  the  Emperor  Louis  the  Piou& 

^  Concilia  sub  ann.  638.  Compare  the  Preface  to  the  edition  of  Cor- 
delias. 

3  Photius,  in  tbe  first  article  io  his  Bibliotheca,  describes  the  work  of  a 
monk,  Theodorus,  who  had  answered  four  out  of  the  unanswerable  argu- 
ments against  their  authenticity,  as  the  writings  of  the  Areopagite ;  but 
about  the  answers  of  Theodoras,  and  his  own  impression  of  the  authonly 
and  value  of  the  books,  Photius  is  silent  —  Photii  Biblioth.  p.  1,  ed.  Bek- 
ker. 

*  There  is  a  quotation  from  them  in  a  Homily  of  Gregoiy  the  Great,  Lib. 
K.  Horn.  94,  Oper.  i.  p.  1907.  Gregory  probably  picked  it  up  during  bii 
controversy  in  Constantinople.  —  (See  vol.  i.  p.  435.)  There  is  no  other 
trace  of  an  earKer  version,  or  of  their  earlier  influence  in  the  West 


Chap.  IL  THE  CELESTIAL  HIERARCHT.  191 

France  in  that  age  was  not-  likely  to  throw  cold  and' 
jealous  doubts  on  writings  which  bore  the  hallowed 
name  of  that  great  Saint,  whom  she  had  already  boast- 
ed to  have  left  his  primal  bishopric  of  Athens  to  con- 
Tert  her  forefathers,  whom  Paris  already  held  to  be  her 
tutelar  Patron,  the  rich  and  powerful  Abbey  of  St. 
Denys  to  be  her  founder.  There  was  living  in  the 
West,  by  happy  coincidence,  the  one  man  who  at  that 
period,  by  his  knowledge  of  Greek,  by  the  congenial 
speculativeness  of  his  mind,  by  the  vigor  and  richness 
of  his  imagination,  was  qualffied  to  translate  into  Latin 
the  mysterious  doctrines  of  the  Areopagite,  both  as 
to  the  angelic  world  and  the  subtile  theology.  John 
Erigena  hastened  to  make  known  in  the  West  the 
**  Celestial  Hierarchy,"  the  treatise  "  on  the  Name  of 
God,"  and  the  brief  chapters  on  the  "  Mystic  Philoso- 
phy." These  later  works  were  more  tardy  in  their 
ftcceptance,  but  perhaps  more  enduring  in  their  influ- 
ence. Traced  downwards  through  Erigena  himself, 
the  St.  Victors,  Bonaventura,  to  Eckhart  and  Tauler 
in  Germany,  and  throughout  the  unfailing  succession 
of  Mystics,  they  will  encounter  us  hereafter.^ 

The  **  Celestial  Hierarchy  "  would  command  at  once, 
and  did  command,  universal  respect  for  its  ^j^^  c^,^^,^ 
authority,  and  universal  reverence  for  its  doc-  ^«"«*y' 
brines.  The  "  Hierarchy  "  threw  upward  the  Primal 
Deity,  the  whole  Trinity,  into  the  most  awftU,  unap- 
proachable, incomprehensible  distance ;  but  it  filled  the 
widening  intermediate  space  with  a  regular  succession 


1  The  Preface  of  Corderius  (Obsenrat.  xi.)  briefly  shows  the  coDnection 
of  the  psnedo-Dionysiua  with  Scholastioisin,  especially  with  Thomas  Aqui- 
nas. — Ohservat.  xii.  shows  the  innamerable  references  of  Aquinas  to  tfiOM 
works;  yet  Aquinas  was  far  less  mystic  than  other  schoolmen. 


192  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIT. 

of  superhuman  Agents,  an  ascending  and  descending 
scale  of  Beings,  each  with  his  rank,  title,  office,  funo 
tion,  superior  or  subordinate.  The  vague  incidental 
notices  in  the  Old  and  New  Testament  and  in  St.  Paul 
(and  to  St.  Paul  doubtless  Jewish  tradition  lent  the 
names),  were  wrought  out  into  regular  Orders,  who 
have  each,  as  it  were,  a  feudal  relation,  pay  their  feu- 
dal service  (here  it  struck  in  with  the  Western  as  well 
as  with  the  Hierarchical  mind)  to  the  Supreme',  and 
have  feudal  superiority  or  subjection  to  each  other. 
This  theory  erelong  became  almost  the  authorized  The- 
ology ;  it  became,  as  far  as  such  transcendent  subjects 
could  be  familiarized  to  the  mind,  the  vulgar  belief. 
The  Arts  hereafter,  when  mature  enough  to  venture 
on  such  vast  and  unmanageable  subjects,  accepted 
this  as  the  tradition  of  the  Church.  Painting  pre- 
sumed to  represent  the  individual  forms,  and  even,  in 
Milton's  phrase,  "the  numbers  without  number"  of 
this  host  of  heaven. 

The  Primal  Godhead,  the  Trinity  in  Unity,  was 
alone  Absolute,  Ineffable,  Inconceivable ;  alone  Essen- 
tial Purity,  Light,  Knowledge,  Truth,  Beauty,  Good- 
ness.^ These  qualities  were  communicated  in  larger 
measure  in  proportion  to  their  closer  approximation  to 
itself,  to  the  three  descending  Triads  which  formed  the 
Celestial  Hierarchy  :  —  I.  The  Seraphim,  Cherubim, 
and  Thrones.  II.  The  Dominations,  Virtues,  Powers 
III.  Principalities,  Archangels,  Angels.  This  Celestial 
Hierarchy  formed,  as  it  were,  concentric  circles  around 

^  The  writer  strives  to  get  beyond  Greek  copiousness  of  expression,  in 
order  to  sbroad  the  Godhead  in  its  utter  unapproachableness.  He  is  the 
Goodness  beyond  Goodness,  imepayadoc  dyador^^  the  Supei^Essential  E»- 
■ence,  tt(>ata  imepoxfota.  Godhead  of  Godhead,  inefideos  Oeor^r 


CHAP.n.        CELESTIAL  HIERARCHY.  193 

the  unapproachable  Trinity.  The  nearest,  and  as 
nearest  partaking  most  fully  of  the  Divine  Essence, 
was  the  place  of  honor.  The  Thrones,  Seraphim,  and 
Cherubim  approximated  most  closely,  with  nothing  in- 
termediate, and  were  more  immediately  and  eternally 
conformed  to  the  Godhead.  The  two  latter  of  these  were 
endowed,  in  the  language  of  the  Scripture,  with  count- 
less eyes  and  countless  wings.^  The  second  Triad,  of 
less  marked  and  definite  attributes,  was  that  of  the 
Powers,  Dominations,  Virtues.^  The  third,  as  more 
closely  approximating  to  the  world  of  man,  if  it  may 
be  so  said,  more  often  visited  the  atmosphere  of  earth, 
and  were  the  immediate  ministers  of  the  Divine  pur- 
poses. Yet  the,  so-called,  Areopagite  laboriously  inter- 
prets into  a  spiritual  meaning  all  the  forms  and  attri- 
butes assigned  in  the  sacred  writings  to  the  Celestial 
Messengers,  to  Angels  and  Archangels.  They  are  of 
i3ery  nature.  Fire  possesses  most  properties  of  the  Di- 
vinity, permeating  everything,  yet  itself  pure  and  un- 
xningled:  all  manifesting,  yet  undiscernible  till  it  has 
found  matter  to  enkindle  ;  irresistible,  invisible,  subdu- 
ing everything  to  itself;  vivifying,  enlightening,  renew- 
ing, and  moving  and  keeping  everything  in  motion ; 
and  so  through  a  long  list  of  qualities,  classed  and 
distinguished  with  exquisite  Greek  perspicuity.  He 
proceeds  to  their  human  form,  allegorizing,  as  he  goes 
on,  the  members  of  the  human  body,  their  wings,  their 
partial  nakedness,  their  bright  or  their  priestly  raiment, 

^  tLponitif  fikv  elveu  pjatf  ri^v  fcepl  Qedv  oiaav  &el^  Koi  irpd  tuv  dAAuv 
dfiiauc  ifvuttBat  napadeioftivfiyf  robe  re  yhp  dyiuranvc  ^povovc  koH  rd  im- 
'kooiqiara  xai  mXvmepa  rayftara  Xepovpifi,  'E^poicjv  ^vy,  xdl  Xepa^ft 
iguofioofuva  —  C.  vi. 

s  All  this  was  said  to  be  derived  from  St.  Paul.  Gregory  the  Great  (Lib. 
ii.  Moralia)  has  another  distribution,  probably  from  some  other  source. 

VOL.  vm.  13 


194  LATIN  CHRiaTUHITT.  Book  XIY. 

their  girdles,  their  wands^  tiieir  spears,  their  axes,  their 
measoring-oords,  the  winds,  the  clouds,  the  brass  and 
tin,  the  choirs  and  hallelujahs,  the  hues  of  the  different 
precious  stones ;  the  animal  forms  of  the  lion,  the  ox« 
the  eagle,  the  horse  ;  the  colors  of  the  symbolic  horses ; 
the  streams,  the  chariots,  the  wheels,  and  finally,  er&i 
the  joy  of  the  Angels.^  All  this,  which  to  the  wise 
and  more  reflective  seemed  to  interpret  and  to  bestow 
a  lofty  significance  on  these  images,  taken  in  its  letter 
—  and  so  &r  only  it  reached  the  vulgar  ear  —  gave  re- 
ality, gave  a  kind  of  authority  and  conventional  ceiv 
tainty  to  the  whole  Angeiie  Host  as  represented  and 
described  for  the  popular  worship.  The  existence  of 
this  regular  Cdestial  Hierarchy  became  an  admitted 
fact  in  the  higher  and  more  learned  Theology  ;  the 
Schoolmen  reason  npan  it  as  on  the  Godhead  itself: 
in  its  more  distinct  and  material  outline  it  became  the 
vulgar  belie£.  The  separate  and  occasionally  discerni- 
ble Being  and  Nature  of  Seraphim  and  Cherafaim,  of 
Archangel  and  Angel,  in  that  dim  confoaion  of  what 
was  thought  revealed  in  the  Scriptore,  and  what  was 
sanctioned  by  the  Church — of  image  and  reality; 
this  Oriental,  half  Magian,  half  Talmudic,  but  now 
ChristiaiiiBed  theory,  took  its  place,  if  with  less  positive 
authority,  with  hardly  less  quesdxmed  credibility,  amid 
the  rest  of  the  fiuth. 

But  this,  the  proper,  if  it  may  be  so  said,  most  faeav- 
enly,  was  not  the  only  Celestial  Hierarchy.  There 
was  a  Hierarchy  below,  reflecting  that  above ;  a  mor- 
tal, a  material  Hierarchy :  corporeal,  as  eomnrantcatiiig 
divine  light,  purity,  knowledge  to  corporeal  Beings. 
The  triple  earthly  Sacerdotal    Order  had  its  type  in 

1  Ch.  XV. 


Chap.  IL  CELESTIAL  HIERASCHT.  196 

beaven,  the  Cdeadal  Orders  their  antitype  on  earlb. 
The  tripk  and  novene  division  not  throughout,  and 
connected^  assimilated,  almost  identified  the  mnndane 
and  supermundane  Church.  As  there  were  three  de« 
grees  of  attainment,  Light,  Purity,  Knowledge  (or 
the  divine  vision),  so  there  were  three  Orders  of  the 
Earthly  Hierarchy,  Bishops,  Priests;,  and  Deacons; 
three  Sacraments,  Baptism,  the  Eucharist,  the  Holy 
Chrism  ;  three  classes,  the  Baptized,  the  Communi- 
cants, the  Monksw  How  sublime,  how  exalting,  how 
welcome  to  the  Sacerdotalism  of  the  West  dns  lofty 
doctrine !  The  Celestial  Hierarchy  were  as  <jei«idai 
themsehes ;  themselves  were  fcrmed  and  or- ™«»**y- 
gSAiased  after  the  pattern  of  the  great  Orders  in  heaven. 
The  whole  worship  of  Man,  in  which  they  administered, 
was  an  echo  of  that  above ;  it  represented,  as  in  a  mii^ 
ror,  the  angelic  or  su|»eraiigelae  worship  in  the  Em]^- 
rean.  All  its  splendor,  its  lights,  its  incense,  were  but 
the  material  symbols ;  adumbrations  of  the  immaterial, 
condescending  to  human  tboaght,  embod}ring  in  things^ 
dupiizaiUe  to  the  senses  of  man  the  adoration  of  tlMi^ 
Beii^  dose  to  the  tharone  sf  God.^ 

The  unamswerable  proof,  were  otkep  wanting,  of  the 
Greek  origin  of  the  Celestial  Hierarchy  is,  that  in  the 
Hierarchical  system:  there  is  no  place  for  the  Pope,  nor* 
even  —  this  perhaps  might  seem  more  eixtraordinary  to 
the  Gallic  Clergy  —  for  the  Metropolitan.  It  recog- 
nizes only  the  triple  ramk  of  Bishops,   Priests,   and 

1  "Eirei  folSk  dwardv  iariv  r^  Ka&*  {ffuti  vci,  irpdg  tj)v  &f)Xov  kKeivrjv  Ava- 
ndS^pm  iw  oCpavUjv  le^xxpxuiv  idftnohf  re  koH  i^euptov,  et  fi^  t§  Kai*  adrtw 
iXal^  XBipayt$yi^  xphPotTO  r^  ^  ^voftata  ko^  t^  ^o^ovw^  eifvpenutK' 
aireucovia/iOTa  Xoyi^fjtevo(f  Koi  rdf  ala^tiraf  evudias  kKTwrufuira  r^c  voih 
r^  dtaSoaeuff  Koi  i%  abXov  ^liTodoaiac  elxova  rd  {fXucik  ^ctra.  —  Lib.  i.  c. 
«.  p.  Sr 


196  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

Deacons.  Jesus  to  the  earthly  Hierarchy  is  as  the 
higher  Primal  Godhead,  as  the  Trinity,  to  the  Celestial 
Hierarchy.  He  is  the  Thearchic  Intelligence,  the  su- 
persubstantial  Being.^  From  him  are  communicated, 
through  the  Hierarchy,  Purity,  Light,  Knowledge. 
He  is  the  Primal  Hierarch,  that  imparts  his  gifts  to 
men ;  from  him  and  through  him  men  become  partak- 
ers in  the  Divinity.  The  Sacraments  are  the  chan- 
nels through  which  these  graces,  Purification,  Illumi- 
nation, Perfection,  are  distributed  to  the  chosen.  Each 
Hierarchical  Order  has  its  special  function,  its  special 
gifts.  Baptism  is  by  the  Deacon,  the  Eucharist  by  the 
Priest,  the  Holy  Chrism  by  the  Bishop.  What  the 
Celestial  Hierarchy  are  to  the  whole  material  universe 
the  Hierarchy  of  the  Clergy  are  to  the  souls  of  men ; 
the  transmittants,  the  sole  transmittants,  of  those  gra- 
ces and  blessings  which  emanate  firom  Christ  as  their 
primal  fountain. 

Still,  however,  as  of  old,^  angelic  apparitions  were 
Demonoiogy.  rare  and  infrequent  in  comparison  with  the 
demoniacal  possessions,  the  demoniacal  temptations  and 
interferences.  Fear  was  more  quick,  sensitive,  ever- 
awake,  than  wonder,  devotion,  or  love.  Men  might  in 
their  profound*  meditations  imagine  this  orderly  and  dis^ 
cipUned  Hierarchy  fiir  up  in  the  remote  heavens.  The 
visitations  to  earth  might  be  of  higher  or  lower  min- 
isters, according  to  the  dignity  of  the  occasion  or  the 
holiness  of  the  Saint.  The  Seraphim  might  flash  light 
on  the  eye,  or  touch  with  fire  the  lip  of  the  Seer ;  the 
Cherubim  might  make  their  celestial  harmonies  heard  ; 
the  Archangel  might  sweep  down  on  his  terrible  wings 
on  God's  mission  of  wrath ;  the  Angel  descend  on  his 

^  QtapxiKuraTOC  vo&r,  imepovoioc.  ^  Compare  vol.  ii.  p.  9fi* 


Chap.  H.  DEMONOLOGT.  197 

more  noiseless  mission  of  love.  The  air  might  teem 
with  these  watchftil  Beings,  brooding  with  their  pro- 
tecting care  over  the  Saints,  the  Virgins,  the  meek  and 
lowly  Christians.^  They  might  be  in  perpetual  contest 
for  the  sonls  of  men  with  their  eternal  antagonists  the 
Devils.  But  the  Angelology  was  but  dim  and  indis- 
tinct to  the  dreadful  ever-present  Demonology ;  their 
name,  the  Spirits  of  Air,  might  seem  as  if  the  atmos- 
phere immediately  around  this  world  was  their  inalien- 
able, almost  exclusive  domain. 

So  long  as  Paganism  was  the  antagonist  of  Christi- 
anity, the  Devil,  or  rather  the  Devils,  took  the  names 
of  Heathen  Deities  :  to  St.  Martin  of  Tours,  they  were 
Jove,  Mercury,  Venus,  or  Minerva.  They  wore  the 
form  and  the  attributes  of  those  rejected  and  degraded 
Gods,  no  doubt  fiimiliar  to  most  by  their  statues,  per- 
haps by  heathen  poetry  —  the  statues  not  yet  destroyed 
by  neglect  or  by  Christian  Iconoclasm,  the  poetry, 
which  yet  sounded  to  the  Christian  ear  profane,  idol- 
atrous, hateful.^  At  a  later  period  the  Heathen  Deities 
have  sunk  into  the  obscure  protectors  of  certain  odious 
vices.  Among  the  charges  against  Pope  Boniface 
VHI.  is  the  invocation  of  Venus  and  other  Pagan 
demons,  for  success  in  gambling  and  other  licentious 

^  Spenser^s  beaatiful  and  well-known  lines  express  the  common  feeling. 

s  *'  Nam  interdum  in  Jovis  personam,  plemmqae  Mercnzii,  persspe  etiam 
•e  Veneris  ac  Minervs  transflguratam  vultlbas  offerebat.  —  Sulp.  Sever. 
Vit  S.  Mat.  cxxiii.  Martin  was  endowed  with  a  singular  (acuity  of  dis- 
eeniing  the  Devil.  *'I>iabolum  vero  tarn  conspicabilem  et  subjectum 
octtlifl  habebat,  ut  stve  se  in  proprift  sulwtantiA  contineret,  sive  in  diversas 
figuras  spiritualesque  nequitias  transtalisset,  qualibet  ab  eo  sub  imagine 
yideretnr."  Once  Martin  promised  the  Devil  the  Divine  forgiveness  at 
the  Day  of  Judgment,  on  his  ceasing  to  persecute,  and  his  repentance  of 
his  sins.  "  Ego  tibi  vero  conflsus  in  Domino,  Christi  misericordiam  poK> 
liceor."  The  heterodox  charity  of  St  Martin  did  not  meet  the  same  aver- 
sion as  the  heterodox  theology  of  Origen. 


ISB  LATIN  CHmSTUKITY.  BookXIV. 

cocapationB.  So,  too,  in  the  conTenion  of  the  Ger- 
inans,  the  Tevrtonic  Grode  became  Demons.  The  usual 
ibrm  of  recantation  of  heathenism  was,  ^^Dost  thou 
renounce  the  Devils?  Dost  thou  renounce  Thonar, 
Woden,  Saxnote  ?  '*  ^  ^  Odin  take  70U,"  is  still  the 
equivalent  in  some  Northern  tongues  to  ^*the  Devil 
take  you."* 

But  neither  did  the  Greek  Mythology,  nor  did  that 
of  the  Germans,  offisr  any  conception  like  that  of  the 
later  Jewish  and  the  Christian  Antagonist  of  God. 
Satan  had  no  prototype  in  either.  The  Grerman  Teu- 
fel  (Devil)  is  no  more  than  the  Greek  Diabolos.  The 
'word  is  used  by  Ulphilas ;  and  in  that  primitive  trans*- 
lation  Satan  retains  his  proper  name.^  But  as  in  Greek 
and  Roman  heathenism  the  infernal  Deities  were  peiv- 
haps  earlier,  certainly  were  more  universally,  than  the 
deities  of  Olympus,  dark^ied  into  the  Demons,  Fiends, 
Devils  of  the  Christian  belief;  so  from  the  North^n 
mythology,  Lok  and  Hela,  before  and  in  a  greater  de- 
gree than  Odin  or  the  more  beneficent  and  wariike 
Gods,  were  relegated  into  Devils.  Pluto  was  already 
black  enough,  terribly  hideous  enough,  cruel  and  unre- 
lenting enough ;  he  ruled  in  Tartarus,  which  was,  of 
course,  identified  with  Hell :  so  Lok,  with  his  consun^ 
mate  wickedness,  and  consummate  wiliness,  as  the  en- 
emy of  all  good,  lent  and  received  much  of  the  power 
and  attributes  of  Satan. 

The  reverent  withdrawal  not  only  of  the  Primal 
Parental  Godhead,  the  Father,  but  likewise  of  the  two 
coeternal  Persons  of  the  Trinity  into  their  unapproach- 
able solitude,  partly  perhaps  the  strong  aversion  to 

1  6m  Tol.  fiSI.  p.  188.  »MaikiH.S8.    JohnxiH.tr.    Edit.  Zulm. 

a  Grimm.  Mjthologie,  p.  668. 


Obap.  O.  SATAN.  199 

Manicheisai,  kept  down,  as  itr  were,  the  antagonism 
between  Good  and  Evil  into  a  lower  sphere.  The 
Satan  of  Latin  Christianity  was  no  Eastern,  almost 
coeval,  coequal  Powej:  with  Christ ;  he  was  the  fallen 
Archangel,  one  it  might  be  of  the  highest,  in  that 
thrice-triple  Hierarchy  of  Angelic  Beings.  His  mortal 
enemy  is  not  God,  but  St.  Michael.  How  completely 
this  was  the  popular  behef  may  appear  from  one  illus- 
tration, the  Chester  Mysteiy  of  the  Fall  of  Lucifer.^ 
This  drama,  performed  by  the  guilds  in  a  provincial 
city  in  England,  solves  the  insoluble  problem  of  the 
origin  of  Evil  through  the  intense  pride  of  Lucifer, 
God  himself  is  present  on  the  scene ;  the  nine  Orders 
remonstrate  against  the  overweening  haughtiness  of 
Lacifer,  who,  with  his  Devils,  is  cast  down  into  the 
dark  dungeon  prepared  for  them. 

But  in  general  the  sublimity  even  of  this  view  of 
the  Antagonist  Power  of  Evil  mingles  not  with  the 
popular  conception.  It  remained  for  later  Poetry:  it 
was,  indeed,  reserved  for  Milton  to  raise  his  image  of 
Satan  to  appalling  grandeur ;  and  Milton,  true  to  tra- 
dition, to  reverential  feeling,  to  the  solemn  serene  gran- 
deur of  the  Saviour  in  the  Gospel,  leaves  the  contest, 
the  war  with  Satan,  to  the  subordinate  Angels  and  to 
Michael,  the  Prince  of  the  Angels.  The  Son,  as  co- 
equal in  Godhead,  sits  aloof  in  his  inviolate  majesty.^ 

^  That  speaka  Lucifer  to  the  Celastml  Hierarchy: 


Dastmi,  I  oommauBde  you  ft>r  to 
And  see  the  bewtya  that  t  Imub, 
AH  Umfrnk  •blnai  tliroagfa  mj  bili^tew, 
Tor  Ood  himaelf  ahinM  not  m  ekar. 

Chester  Mysteries^  p.  18. 

*  Remaric  'Miibcfn*B  wonderful  sublimity,  not  merely  in  hit  central  figure 
of  him,  who  had  not  **  lost  all  his  original  brightness/'  who  was  **  not  less 
than  archangel  ruined,"  but  in  his  creation,  it  may  almoat  be  said,  out  ef 


200  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

The  Devil,  the  Devils  of  the  dark  ages,  are  in  the 
DeTiis.  vulgar  notion  something  fiir  below  the  Luci- 

fer, the  fallen  Son  of  the  Morning,  They  are  merely 
hideous,  hateftd,  repulsive  —  often,  to  show  the  power 
of  the  Saint,  contemptible.  The  strife  for  the  mastery 
of  the  world  is  not  through  terrible  outbursts  of  power. 
The  mighty  destructive  agencies  which  war  on  man- 
kind are  the  visitations  of  God,  not  the  spontaneous, 
inevitable,  or  even  permitted  devastations  of  Satan.  It 
-is  not  through  the  loftier  passions  of  man,  it  is  mostly 
by  petty  tricks  and  small  annoyances,  that  the  Evil 
One  endeavors  to  mislead  or  molest  the  Saint.  Even 
when  he  offers  temptations  on  a  larger  scale,  there  is  in 
general  something  cowardly  or  despicable ;  his  very 
tricks  are  often  out-tricked.  The  form  which  he  as- 
sumed, the  attributes  of  the  form,  the  horns,  the  tail, 
the  cloven  foot,  are  vulgar  and  ludicrous.  The  stench 
which  betrays  his  presence :  his  bowlings  and  screech- 
ings  are  but  coarse  and  grovelling.  At  first,  indeed, 
he  was  hardly  permitted  to  assume  th<e  human  form:^ 

Seidell's  book,  and  the  few  allusions  in  the  Old  Testament,  of  a  new  De- 
monology.  He  throws  aside  the  old  Patristic  Hierarchy  of  Devils,  the  gods 
of  Greece  and  Rome,  whom  the  revival  of  classical  literature  had  now  re- 
instated in  their  majesty^  and  beauty,  as  seen  in  the  Poets.  He  raises  up  in 
their  stead  the  biblical  adversaries  of  the  Godhead  of  the  Old  Testament; 
the  Deities  of  the  nations,  Canaan  and  Sjnia,  circumjacent  and  hostile  to 
the  Jews.  Before  Milton,  if  Moloch,  Belial,  Mammon,  were  not  absolutely 
unknown  to  poetry,  they  had  no  proper  and  distinct  poetic  existence.  I 
owe  the  germ  of  this  observation,  perhaps  more  than  the  germ,  to  my  friend 
Mr.  Macaulay. 

^  Alors  qu'aux  yeux  du  vnlgaire  celui-ci  fnt  devenu  un  dtre  hideux,  in- 
coherent assemblage  des  formes  les  plus  animales,  et  les  plus  effrayantes; 
un  personnage  grotesque  k  force  d'dt<$re  laid.  — Mauiy,  L4$gendes,  Pieuses, 
p.  198. 

M.  Maury  says  that  the  most  ancient  representation  of  the  Devil  in  hu- 
man form  is  in  an  ivory  diptych  of  the  time  of  Charles  the  Bald,  p.  186, 
note.    See  also  text. 


CHAP.n.  THE  8EBPENT.  201 

his  was  a  monstrous  combination  of  all  that  was  most 
Qgty  and  hateful  in  the  animal  shape.  If  Devils  at 
times  assumed  beautiful  forms,  as  of  wanton  women  to 
tempt  the  Saints,  or  entered  into  ancf  possessed  women 
of  attractive  loveliness,  it  was  only  for  a  time ;  they 
withdrew  and  shrunk  back  to  their  own  proper  and 
native  hideousness. 

Even  Dante's  Devils  have  but  a  low  and  menial  ma- 
lignity ;  they  are  base  and  cruel  executioners,  torturers, 
with  a  fierce  but  dastardly  delight  in  the  pains  they 
inflict.  The  awful  and  the  terrible  is  in  the  human 
victims :  their  passions,  their  pride,  ambition,  cruelty, 
avarice,  treachery,  revenge,  alone  have  anything  of 
the  majesty  of  guilt :  it  is  the  diaboUc  in  man,  not  the 
Devils  acting  upon  men  and  through  men,  which  makes 
the  moral  grandeur  of  his  Inferno. 

The  symbol  under  which  the  Devil,  Satan  as  Lucifer, 
as  well  as  his  subordinate  fiends,  are  repre-  The  serpent. 
seuted  throughout  this  period,  the  Serpent,  was  some- 
times terrific,  often  sunk  to  the  low  and  the  ludicrous. 
This  universal  emblem  of  the  Antagonist  Power  of 
Evil  runs  through  all  religions,^  (though  here  and 
there  the  Serpent  is  the  type  of  the  Beneficent  Deity, 
or,  coiled  into  a  circular  ring,  of  eternity.)*  The 
whole  was  centred  in  the  fearful  image  of  the  great 
Dragon  in  the  Apocalypse.  St.  Michael  slaying  the 
Dragon  is  among  the  earliest  emblems  of  the  triumph 


1  The  connection  of  the  Dragon,  Serpent,  and  Wonn  with  the  Devil  in  its 
countless  forms  is  traced  with  inexhaustible  learning  by  M.  Maury,  in  his 
L^gendes  Pieuses,  pp.  131, 154.  So  too  the  growth  of  each  demoniac  beast 
out  of  other  notions,  the  lion,  the  wolf,  the  swine.  It  would  be  impossible 
to  enter  in  such  a  work  as  this  into  the  endless  detail. 

<  The  ample  reforences  of  M.  Maury  on  this  subject  might  be  enlarged. 
Bee  too  the  work  of  Mr.  Deane  on  the  Worship  of  the  Serpent. 


202  rATQ7  GHBtSnANITT.  BookXHT. 


of  Good  over  Evil.  From  an  emblem  it  became  a 
Ijgiaos  historical  &ct.  And  hence,  doubtless,  to  a  great 
extent,  the  Dragon  of  Romance;  St,  Geonge  is  but 
another  St  Michael  of  human  descent.  The  enmity 
of  the  serpent  to  the  race  of  man,  as  expressed  and 
seemingly  countenanced  by  the  Book  of  Genesis,  adds 
wiliness  to  the  simply  terrible  and  destructive  monster. 
Almost  every  legend  teems  with  serpent  demons.  Ser- 
pents are  the  most  dire  torturers  in  hell.  The  worm 
that  never  dieth  (Dante's  great  Worm)  is  not  alone ; 
snaJLes  with  diabolic  instincts,  or  snakes  actually  devils, 
and  rioting  in  the  luxury  of  preying  on  the  vital  and 
sensitive  parts  of  the  undying  damned,  ai«  everywiiera 
the  dreadful  instruments  of  everlasting  retribution. 

Closely  connected  with  these  demoniac  inflaenoea 
was  the  belief  in  magic,  witchcraft,  spells,  talismans, 
conjurations.  These  were  all  the  actual  delusions  or 
operations  of  obedient  or  assistant  Evil  Spirits.  The 
Legislature  of  the  Church  and  of  the  State,  from  Con^ 
stantine  down  to  a  late  period,  the  post^Papal  period  of 
Christianity;  Roman,  Barbarian,  even  modem  Codes 
recognized  as  real  facts  all  these  wild  hallucinations  of 
our  nature,  and  by  arraying  them  in  the  dignity  of 
heretical  impious  and  capital  offences,  impressed  more 
deeply  and  perpetuated  the  vulgar  belief.  They  have 
now  almost,  bat  by  no  means  altogether,  vanished  be* 
fore  the  light  of  reason  and  of  science*  The  most 
obstinate  fanaticism  only  ventures  to  murmur,  that  in 
things  BO  imiversally  believed,  condemned  by  Popes 
and  Councils,  and  confirmed  by  the  terrible  testimony 
of  the  excommunication  and  the  execution  of  thou- 
sands of  miserable  human  beings,  there  must  have  been 
something  more  than  our  incredulous  age  will  acknowl- 


GOAr.IL  THE  SAINTS.  208 

edge.^  Wisdom  and  humanity  may  look  with  patience, 
with  indnlgence,  with  sympathy,  on  many  points  of 
Christian  superstition,  as  bringing  home  to  hearts  which 
would  otherwise  have  been  untouched,  unsoftened,  un- 
consoled,  the  blessed  influences  and  peace  of  religion  ; 
but  on  this  sad  chapter,  extending  far  beyond  the  dark 
ages,  it  will  look  with  melancholy,  indeed,  but  unmit- 
igated reprobation.  The  whole  tendency  was  to  de- 
grade and'  brutalize  human  nature :  to  degrade  by 
^icouraging  the  belief  in  such  monstrous  follies,  to 
brutalize  by  the  pomp  of  public  executions,  conducted 
with  the  solemnity  of  civil  and  religious  state. 

All  this  external  worid-environing  world  of  Beings 
possessed  the  three  great  attributes,  ubiquity,  incessant 
activity  with  motion  in  inappreciable  time,  personality. 
Grod  was  not  more  omnipresent,  more  all-knowing, 
more  cognizant  of  the  inmost  secrets  of  the  human 
keart  than  were  these  angelic  or  demon  hosts.  These 
divine  attributes  •  might  be  delegated,  derivative,  per- 
mitted for  q)ecial  purposes ;  but  human  fear  and  hope 
lost  sight  of  this  distinction,  and  invested  every  one 
of  the  countless  prsetematural  agents  in  independent, 
self-existent,  self-willed  life.  They  had,  too,  the  power 
of  assuming  any  forms ;  of  endless  and  instantaneous 
transmutation. 

But  the  Angels  were  not  the  only  guardians  and 
protectors  of  the  faithftd  against  the  swarming,  busy, 
indefatigable  malignant  spirits,  which  claimed  the  world 
of  man  as  their  own.  It  might  seem  as  if  human  weak- 
ness required  something  less  impalpable,  more  sensibly 
real,  more  akin  to  itself,  than  beings  of  light  and  air, 

'  See  (SorreB,  Christliche  Mjstik.  that  strange  enidite  rhapsody,  which, 
Vitfa  all  ita  fenror,  fails  to  oonviiice  as  that  the  author  was  in  earnest. 


'  204  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

which  encircled  the  throne  of  God.  Those  Beings,  in 
Tbe  Saints,  their  cssence  immaterial,  or  of  a  finer  and 
more  ethereal  matter,  might  stoop  to  earth,  or  might  be 
constantly  hovering  between  earth  and  heaven ;  but 
besides  them,  as  it  were  of  more  distinct  cognizance  by 
man,  were  those  who,  having  worn  the  human  form, 
retained  it,  or  reassumed  it,  as  it  were  clothing  over 
their  spiritualized  being.  The  Saints,  having  been 
human,  were  more  easily,  more  naturally  conceived,  as 
still  endowed  with  human  sympathies ;  intermediate 
between  God  and  man,  but  with  an  imperishable  ine& 
faceable  manhood  more  closely  bound  up  with  man. 
The  doctrine  of  the  Church,  the  Communion  of  Saints, 
implied  the  Church  militant  and  the  Church  trium- 
phant. The  Christians  yet  on  earth,  the  Christians 
already  in  heaven,  formed  but  one  polity ;  and  if  there 
was  this  kindred,  if  it  may  be  so  said,  religious  consan- 
guinity, it  might  seem  disparagement  to  their  glory  and 
to  their  union  with  Christ  to  banish  them  to  a  cold  un- 
conscious indifference,  and  abase  them  to  ignorance  of 
the  concerns  of  their  brethren  still  in  the  flesh.  Each 
saint  partook,  therefore,  of  the  instinctive  omniscience 
of  Christ.  While  unabsorbed  in  the  general  beatified 
community,  he  kept  up  his  special  interest  and. attach- 
ment to  the  places,  the  companions,  the  fraternities  of 
his  earthly  sojourn  ;  he  exercised,  according  to  his  will, 
at  least  by  intercession,  a  beneficent  influence  ;  he  was 
tutelar  within  his  sphere,  and  therefore  within  that 
sphere  an  object  of  devout  adoration.  And  so,  as  ages 
went  on,  saints  were  multiplied  and  deified.  I  am 
almost  unwilling  to  write  it ;  yet  assuredly,  hardly 
less,  if  less  than  Divine  power  and  Divine  will  was  as- 
signed by  the  popular  sentiment  to  the  Virgin  and  the 


CHAP.n.  THE  VIRGIN.  206 

Saints.  They  intercepted  the  worship  of  the  Almighty 
Father,  the  worship  of  the  Divine  Son.  To  them, 
rather  than  through  them,  prayer  was  addressed  ;  their 
shrines  received  the  more  costly  oblations ;  they  were 
the  rulers,  the  actual  disposing  Providence  on  earth : 
God  might  seem  to  have  abandoned  the  Sovereignty 
of  the  world  to  these  subordinate  yet  all-powerfiil 
agencies. 

High  above  all  this  innumerable  Host  of  Saints  and 
Martyrs,  if  not  within  the  Trinity  (it  were  not  easy,  if 
we  make  not  large  allowance  for  the  wild  language  of 
rapturous  adoration,  to  draw  any  distinction),  hardly 
below,  was  seated  the  Queen  of  Heaven.^  The  wor- 
ship of  the  Virgin,  since  the  epoch  of  Gregory  the 
Great,  had  been  constantly  on  the  ascendant ;  the 
whole  progress  of  Christian  thought  and  feeling  con- 
verged towards  this  end.^  The  passionate  adoration 
of  the  Virgin  was  among  the  causes  of  the  discom- 
fiture of  Nestorianism  —  the  discomfiture  of  Nestori- 
anism  deepened  the  passion.  The  title  ^^  Mother  of 
God  "  had  been  the  watchword  of  the  feud ;  it  became 
the  cry  of  victory.     Perhaps   as  the   Teutonic  awe 

1  At  qiialis  cnmUf  cajus  aurigse  sunt  immortalee  Spiritus ! 

Qualis  nU  qu8B  asoendit,  et  cui  Dens  fit  obrius ! 

Haec  est  Regina  naturae,  et  psene  gratisB. 

Tali  pompH  excipienda  est  que  Deam  exceperat. 

Adsoige,  anima,  die  aliquid  sublimias. 

Ante  advenium  Maria  regnabant  in  cah  tres  pertona. 

Nee  (et?)  regnabant  tres  Reges. 

AUerum  (hronum  addidit  Homo  Deus ; 

Adventante  Maria  tertius  thronns  est  additos. 

EtDonc  triplex  in  coelo  regnnm  est,  ubi  erat  unicnm. 

Sedet  proxima  Deo  mater  Dei. 

Labb^  in  Elogiis.  —  Comp.  Augusti,  v.  iii.  p.  65. 
s  Compare  on  the  earlier  period  Beugnot,  Destmction  da  Paganitme,  ii. 
W7.    The  whole  subject  of  the  progress  of  the  worship  of  the  Virgm,  in 
liiigiisti,  Denkwurdigkeiten,  iii.  pp.  1,  ti  8eq,,  with  ample  illustrations. 


SM  ULTnr  cHRisnAinTr.  bom  jus. 

tended  to  throw  lack  into  more  remote  incoroprehen^ 
sibility  the  spiritual  G(»dhead,  and  therefore  the  mora 
distinct  human  ims^e  became  more  welcome  to  the 
soul ;  so  perhaps  the  purer  and  loftier  Teutonic  respect 
for  the  female  sex  was  more  prone  to  t^e  adoration  of 
the  Virgin  Mother^  Iconoclasm,  as  the  imager  of  the 
Virgin  Mother,  then  perhaps  usually  with  the  Child, 
were  more  frequent  and  regarded  with  stronger  attach- 
ment, would  seem  a  war  specialty  directed  against  the 
blessed  Mary ;  her  images^  when  they  rose  again,  or, 
as  was  common,  smiled  again  on  the  walk^  would  be 
the  objects  of  still  more  devout  wonder  and  love.  She 
would  vindicate  her  exalted  dignity  by  more  countless 
miracles,  and  miracles  would  be  multiplied  at  once  by 
the  frantic  zual  and  by  the  more  easy  credulity  of  her 
triumphant  worshippers ;  she  would  glorify  herself,  aad 
be  glorified  without  measure.  It  was  the  same  in  the 
East  and  in  the  West.  The  East  had  early  adopted  m 
the  popular  creed  the  groundwork,  at  least,  of  the  Gea* 
pel  of  the  Infancy  and  of  the  other  spurious  Gospels^ 
which  added  so  prodigally  to  the  brief  aliusions  to  the 
Mather  in  the  genuine  Gospels.^  The  Emperor  He* 
radius,  it  has  been  seen,  had  the  Virgin  on  his  banner 
of  war ;  to  the  tutelar  protection  of  the  Virgin  Con- 
stantinople looked  against  the  Saracen  and  the  Turk. 
Chivalry  above  all  would  seem,  as  it  were,  to  array  the 
Christian  world  as  the  Church  militant  of  the  Virgin.* 
Every  knight  was  the  sworn  servant  of  our  Lady ;  to 
her  he  looked  for  success  in  battle  —  strange  as  it  may 


1  PerhapB  the  reception  of  these  into  the  Korftn  as  part  of  the  nnivenal 
Chrittfni  belief  is  the  moot  fCrikiag  proof  of  this. 

2  On  the  chivalrou  wofship  of  the  Virgin,  Le  Grand  d*  Aos^,  Fabliaas, 
V.27. 


eiwLP.  IL  WORSHIP  OF  THE  VIRGIN.  207 

sound,  for  success  in  softer  cmterprises.^  Poetry  took 
even  more  irrererent  license  ;  its  admttion  m  its  inten- 
sity became  revoltingly  profane.  Instead  of  hallowing 
human  passion,  it  brought  human  passion  into  the 
sphere  of  adoration,  from  which  it  might  have  been 
expected  to  ihnnk  with  instinctive  modesty.  Yet  it 
must  be  known  ia  its  utmost  frenzy  to  be  judged 
rightly.a 

So  completdy  was  this  worship  the  worship  of  Chri^ 
tendom,  that  every  cathedral,  almost  every  spacious 
churchy  had  its  Chapel  of  our  Lady.  In  the  hymns 
to  the  Virgin,  in  every  breviary,  more  especially  in  her 
own  ^^  Hours  "  (the  great  universal  book  of  devotion^, 
ttot  merely  is  the  whole  world  and  the  celestial  world 
put  under  contribution  for  poetic  images,  not  only  is 
all  the  luxuriance  and  cc^iousness  of  ktngnage  est* 
hansted,  a  new  vocabulary  is  invented  to  eiq>ress  the 
yet  inexpressible  homage  ;  pages  follow  pages  of  glow<» 
ing  similitudes,  rising  one  above  another.  In  tiie 
Psalter  of  the  Virgin  almost  all  the  incommunicable 
attributes  of  the  Godhead  are  assigned  to  her ;  she 
aits  between  Cherubim  and  Seraphim  ;  she  commands^ 
by  her  maternal  influences,  if  not  hy  authority,  her 


I  The  poeCi7  of  the  Troabadotm  is  tali  of  this. 

s  C*Mt  ainsi  que  Is  mime  Osatier  (de  Corrm.)  coD^t  poor  la  Viergv 
Marie  un  amour  T^ritable,  qui  reaflamma,  le  d^vora  toate  ml  vie.  Elle 
^ast  pour  Itti  ce  qu'est  une  amante  poor  le  plus  passionn^  dea  homme».  D 
r^injsflait  pour  elle  toutes  leu  beaut^s  quMl  apercevait  dam  les  religieoser 
d*un  convent  quMl  dirigeait;  lui  adrefl»ait  chaque  .four  des  rers  pleins  d'am- 
muTy  d'^rotiquea  chansons;  il  fat  voyait  dans  ses  rires,  et  quelqnefois  mSme 
^mmd  ii  veiUait,  sons  les  ftmnes  les  plus  Tvluptueuaeai  et  la  croyvrt  Th^rolne- 
4ea  mille  arentures,  que,  dans  son  d^lire,  il  in^ntoH,  et  puis  raoontait  eir 
ven  mimmiinbles.  —  Hist  Litt^raire  de  la  Fnmce,  xix.  p.  S48. 

To  purify  his  imagination  from  this,  let  the  reader  turn  to  Petrarch's 
noble  ode  "  Vergine  bella,  ehe  di  sol  ▼eatita.* 


»t 


208  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

Eternal  Son.^  To  the  Festivals  of  the  Annunciation 
and  the  Purification  (or  the  Presentation  of  Christ  in 
the  Temple)  was  added  that  of  the  Assumption  of  the 
Virgin.^  A  rich  and  copious  legend  revealed  the 
whole  history  of  her  birth  and  life,  of  which  the 
Sacred  Scriptures  were  altogether  silent,  but  of  which 
the  spurious  Gospels  furnished  many  incidents,^  thus, 
as  it  were,  taking  their  rank  as  authorities  with  the 
Apostolic  four.  And  all  this  was  erelong  to  be  em- 
bodied in  Poetry,  and,  it  might  seem,  more  imperish- 
ably  in  Art.  The  latest  question  raised  about  the 
Virgin  —  her  absolute  immunity  from  the  sin  of  Adam 
—  is  the  best  illustration  of  the  strength  and  vitality 
of  the  belief.  Pious  men  could  endure  the  discussion. 
Though  St.  Bernard,  in  distinct  words  which  cannot 
be  explained  away,  had  repudiated  the  Immaculate 
Conception  of  the  Virgin*  —  though  it  was  rejected 
by  Thomas  Aquinas,^  that  Conception  without  any 
taint  of  hereditaiy  sin,  grew  up  under  the  authority 
of  the  rival  of  Aquinas.  It  became  the  subject  of 
contention  and  controversy,  from  which  the  calmer 
Christian  shrinks  with  intuitive  repugnance.  It  di- 
vided  the  Dominicans   and    Franciscans   into   hostile 


1  Ezcelsus  super  Cherubim  Thronns  ejus,  et  sedes  ejus  super  cardinea 
gobU.  —  Ps.  czlii.  Domina  Angelomm,  regina  Mundi  I  —  Ps.  xxxix.  Quod 
Deus  imperio,  tu  preoe,  VirgOi  facis  —  Jure  matris  impera  filio! 

'  Titian's  Assumption  of  the  Virgin  at  Venioei  to  omit  the  Muiilloe,  and 
those  of  countless  inferior  artists. 

s  See  these  Gospels  in  Thilo  Codex  Apociyphus. 

*  Mariam  in  peccato  conceptam,  cum  et  ipsa  yulgari  modo  per  libidinem 
maris  et  f<BminsB  concepta  est.  One  is  almost  unwilling  to  quote  in  Latin 
what  St  Bernard  wrote.  Ad  canon.  Lugdun.  It  is  true  St.  Bernard  made 
a  vague  submission  on  this,  as  on  other  points,  to  the  judgment  of  the 
Church. 

fi  Summa  Theologis,  iiL  27,  and  in  coane  terms. 


Chap.  U.  SAINTS.  209 

camps,  and  was  agitated  with  all  the  wrath  and  fury 
of  a  question  in  which  was  involved  the  whole  moral 
and  religious  welfare  of  mankind.^  None  doubted' 
that  it  was  witliin  the  lawful  sphere  of  theology.* 
Wonderful  as  it  may  seem,  a  doctrine  rejected  at  the 
end  of  the  twelfth  century  by  the  last  Father  of  the 
Latin  Church,  has  been  asserted  by  a  Pope  of  the 
nineteenth,  and  a  Council  is  now  sitting  in  grave  de- 
bate in  Rome  on  the  Immaculate  Conception.^ 

The  worship  gf  the  Saints  might  seem  to  be  endan- 
gered by  their  multiplicity,  by  their  infinity.  The 
crowded  calendar  knew  not  what  day  it  could  assign 
to  the  new  Saint  without  clashing  with,  or  dispossess- 
ing, an  old  one ;  it  was  forced  to  bear  an  endless 
accumulation  on  some  &vored  days.  The  East  and 
the  West  vied  with  each  other  in  their  fertility.  Th« 
Greek  Menologies  are  not  only  as  copious  in  the  puer- 


l  When  the  stranger  travelling  in  Spain  arFive<l  at  midnight  at  a  QOOr 
vent-gate,  and  uttered  his  "  Santissiraa  Virgen/'  he  knew  by  the  answer, 
ehher  "  Sin  pecsdo  concebida,"  or  by  the  silence  with  which  the  door 
opened,  whether  it  was  a  Frandacan  or  a  Dominican. 

S  Singular  it-may  seem,  the  doctrine  was  first  authorized  by  tiie  reform- 
mg  heterodox?    Council  of  Basle,  a.  d.  1439.    Session  xxv.  vi. 

9  Even  such  a  writer  as  Augustin  Theiner  was,  can  write  such  pages  as 
appear  in  the  Vie  de  Clement  XIV.,  i.  p.  341. 

4  Is  there  not  wisdom  enough  in  tiie  Church,  which  has  never  been 
thooght  wanting  in  wisdom,  to  consider  whether  it  is  wise  to  inflame  a 
passionate  paroxysm  of  devotion  in  a  very  few;  and  to  throw  back,  by  an 
inevitable  revulsion,  and  by  so  fatal  an  argument  placed  in  their  handA, 
mnltitndes  into  utter  unbelief  and  contempt  of  all  religion  ?  —  so  had  I  writ- 
ten in  1864:  the  Council  has  passed  its  decree;  by  all  who  own  its  authority 
the  Immaculate  Conception  is  admitted,  or,  what  is  very  different,  not  de- 
nied to  be  an  Article  of  the  Christian  creed.  But  is  not  the  utter  and  total 
apathy  with  which  it  has  been  received  (one  day's  Spectacle  at  Bome,  and 
nearly  silent  indifference  throughout  Christendom)  the  most  remarkable 
sign  of  the  times  —  the  most  unanswerable  proof  of  the  prostration  of  the 
strength  of  the  Roman  Church?  There  is  not  life  enough  for  a  schism  on 
this  vital  point. 

VOL.  viu.  14 


210  LATIN  CHMSTIANmr.  Book  XIV. 

flity  and  trivialness  of  their  wonders,  they  even  surpass 
the  Western  Hagiologies.  Bnt  of  the  countless  Saints 
of  the  East,  few  comparativelj  were  received  in  the 
West.  The  E^t  as  disdainfully  rejected  many  of  the 
most  fiimous,  whom  the  West  worshipped  with  the 
most  earnest  devotion  ;  they  were  ignorant  even  of 
their  names.  It  may  be  doubted  if  an  Oriental  ever 
uttered  a. prayer  in  the  name  of  St.  Thomas  of  Canter- 
bury. Still  that  multiplicity  of  Saints,  as  it  bore  un- 
answerable witness  to  the  vigor  of  the  belief,  so  also 
to  its  vitality.  It  was  constantly  renewing  its  youth 
by  the  elevation  of  more  fevorite  and  recent  objects 
of  adoration.  Every  faculty,  every  feeling,  every  pas- 
sion, every  affection,  every  interest  was  for  centuries  in 
a  state  of  perpetual  excitement  to  quicken,  keep  alive, 
and  make  more  intense  this  wonder-fed  and  wonder- 
seeking  worship.  The  imagination,  the  generous  ad- 
miration of  transcendent  goodness,  of  transcendent 
learning,  or,  what  was  esteemed  even  more  Christian, 
transcendent  austerity ;  rivalry  of  Church  with  Church, 
of  town  with  town,  of  kingdom  with  kingdom,  of  Or- 
der with  Order  ;  sordid  interest  in  the  Priesthood  who 
possessed,  and  the  people  who  were  permitted  to  wor- 
ship, and  shared  in  the  feme,  even  in  the  profit,  from 
the  concourse  of  worshippers  to  the  shrine  of  a  cele- 
brated Saint;  gratitude  for  blessings  imputed  to  his 
prayers,  the  fruitful  harvest,  protection  in  war,  escape 
in  pestilence ;  fear  lest  the  offended  Saint  should  turn 
away  his  face  ;  the  strange  notion  that  Saints  were 
under  an  obligation  to  befriend  their  worshippers ;  the 
still  bolder  Brahminical  notion  that  Saints  might  be 
compelled,  by  the  force  of  prayer,  or  even  by  the  lav- 
ish oblation,  to  interpose  their  reluctant  influence;  — 


Chap.  II.  CANONIZATION.  211 

against  all  this  stood  one  faculty  of  man  alone,  and 
that  with  diflSculty  roused  out  of  its  long  lethargy,  re- 
buked, cowed,  proscribed,  shuddering  at  what  might 
be,  which  was  sure  to  be,  branded  as  impiety  —  the 
Reason.  Already  in  the  earliest  period  to  doubt  the 
wild  wonders  related  of  St.  Martin  of  Tours  is  to 
doubt  the  miracles  of  the  Gospel.^  Popular  admira- 
tion for  some  time  enjoyed,  unchecked,  the  privflege  of 
canonization.  A  Saint  was  a  Saint,  as  it  were,  by  ac- 
clamation ;  and  this  acclamation  might  have  canoniaitioii. 
been  uttered  in  the  rudest  times,  as  during  the  Mero- 
vingian rule  in  France ;  or  within  a  very  limited  sphere, 
as  among  our  Anglo-Saxon  ancestors,  so  many  of  whose 
Saints  were  contemptuously  rejected  by  the  Norman 
Conqueror.  Saints  at  length  multiplying  thus  beyond 
measure,  the  Pope  assumed  the  prerogative  of  advan- 
cing to  the  successive  ranks  of  Beatitude  and  Sanctity. 
If  this  checked  the  deification  of  such  perplexing  mul- 
titudes, it  gave  still  higher  authority  to  those  who  had 
been  recognized  by  more  general  consent,  or  who  were 
thus  more  sparingly  admitted  to  the  honors  of  Beatifi- 
cation and  Sanctification  (those  steps,  as  it  were,  of 
spiritual  promotion  were  gradually  introduced).  The 
Saints  ceased  to  be  local  divinities ;  they  were  pro- 
claimed to  Christendom,  in  the  irrefragable  Bull,  as 
worthy  of  general  worship.^ 

^  Qtuuiquam  minimd  mimm  sit  si  in  operibas  Martini  infirmitas  humana 
dnbitaverit,  cum  multos  hodieque  videamus,  nee  Evangelicis  quidem  credi- 
disse.  —  Snip.  Sever.,  Dial.  ii.  16.  Sulpicias  almost  closes  the  life  of  St. 
Martinwith  these  words:  "Decaterosi  quis  infideliter  legerit,  ipae  pec- 
cabit" 

2  Canonization  has  been  distributed  into  three  periods.  Down  to  the 
tenth  oentnry  the  Saint  was  exalted  by  the  popular  voice,  the  suffrage  of 
the  people  with  the  Bishop.  In  the  intermediate  period  the  sanction  of  the 
Pope  was  required,  but  the  Bishops  retained  their  right  of  initiation.    Al- 


212  LATIN    CHBISTIANTTY.  Book  XIV. 

There  were  some,  of  course,  the  universal  Saints  of 
Christendom,  the  Apostles,  the  early  martyrs ;  some 
of  Latin  Christendom,  the  four  great  Fathers  of  the 
Latin  Church ;  some  few,  like  St.  Thomas  of  Canter- 
hur)',  the  martyr  of  the  ecclesiastical  Order,  would  be 
held  up  by  the  whole  Hieraschy  as  the  pattern  and 
model  of  sanctity ;  St  Benedict,  in  all  the  Benedictine 
monasteries,  the  founders  or  reformers  of  the  Monastic 
Institutes,  St.  Odo,  St.  Stephen  Harding,  St.  Bernard, 
St.  Romuald,  St.  Norbert*  At  a  later  period,  and, 
above  all,  wherever  there  were  Mendicant  Friars  (and 
where  were  there  not?)  St.  Dominic  and  St.  Francis 
would  have  their  images  raised,  their  legends  read  and 
promulgated  with  the  utmost  activity,  and  their  shrines 
heaped  with  offerings.  Each  Order  was  bound  espe- 
cially to  hold  up  the  Saints  of  the  Order ;  it  was  the 
duty  of  all  who  wore  the  garb  to  spread  their  fame 
with  special  assiduity.^  The  Dominicans  and  Francis- 
cans could  boast  others  besides  their  founders  :  the  Do- 
minicans the  murdered  Inquisitor  Peter  the  Martyr, 

flzander  III.  seized  into  the   hands  of  the  Pope  alone  this  great  and 
abused  Prerogative.  —  Mabillon,  Act.  St.  Benedict  Y.  in  Prof. 

^  The  great  authority  for  the  Lives  of  the  Saints,  of  eourse  with  strong 
predilection  for  the  Saints  of  the  West,  is  the  vast  collection  of  the  BoUand* 
ists,  even  in  the  present  day  proceeding  towards  its  termination.  On  the 
origin  and  the  writers  of  this  Collection,  consult  Pitra,  Etudes  sur  la  Col- 
lection des  Actes  des  Saints  par  les  Jesuites  Bollandistea.  To  me  the  1Hi(4o 
beauty  and  value  is  in  the  original  contemporary  form  (as  some,  for  in- 
stance, are  read  in  Pertz,  Monumenta  Germaniss).  In  the  Bollandists,  or 
even  in  the  Grolden  Legend  of  Jacob  a  Voragine,  they  become  cold  and  coo- 
tioveisial;  the  original  di^cuments  are  overlaid  with  dissertation.  Later 
writers,  like  Aiban  Butler,  are  apologetic,  cautious,  always  endeavoring  to 
make  the  incredible  credible.  In  the  recent  Lives  of  the  English  Saints, 
some  of  them  admirably  told,  there  is  a  sort  of  obiUy  psychological  justifi- 
oation  of  belief  utterly  irreconcilable  with  belief;  ths  writen  arg«  that  we 
Mghtt9  believe,  what  they  themselves  almost  confess  that  they  qmd.  oaify 
bolieve,  or  fiuicy  thi^  believt,  out  of  duty,  not  of  fiutb. 


CxAr.IL  UOOAL  SAINTS.  218 

and  St.  Thomas  Aquinas  ;  the  Franciscans  St.  Antony 
of  Padua,  and  San  Bonaventura.  Their  portraits, 
their  miracles,  were  painted  in  the  churches,  in  the 
cloisters  of  the  Friars ;  hymns  in  their  name,  or  sen* 
tences,  were  chanted  in  the  services.  AH  these  were 
world-wide  Saints :  their  shrines  arose  in  all  lands, 
their  churches  or  chapels  sprung  up  in  all  quarters. 
Others  had  a  more  limited  &me,  though  within  the 
pale  of  that  fame  their  worship  was  performed  with 
loyal  fidelity,  their  legend  read,  their  acts  and  miracles 
commemorated  by  architecture,  sculpture,  painting.  As 
under  the  later  Jewish  belief  each  Empire  had  its  guar* 
dian  Angel,  so  each  kingdom  of  Christendom  had  its 
tutelar  Saint  France  had  three,  who  had  each  his 
sacred  dty^  each,  as  it  were,  succeeded  to,  without  dis- 
possessing, the  other.  St.  Martin  of  Tours  was  the 
older ;  St.  Remi,  who  baptiased  Clovis  into  the  Catholic 
Church,  had  an  especial  claim  on  all  of  Prankish  de- 
scent But,  as  Paris  rose  above  Tours  and  Rheims,  so 
rose  St  Denys,  by  degrees,  to  be  the  leading  Saint  of 
France.  St.  Louis  was  the  Saint  of  the  royal  race.* 
St  Jago  of  Compostella,  the  Apostle  of  St.  James, 
had  often  led  the  conquering  Spaniard  against  the  Mus-^ 
sulman.  The  more  peaceful  Boniface,  with  others  of 
the  older  missionaries,  was  honored  by  a  better  title  in 
Geimany.  Some  of  the  patron  Saints,  however,  of 
the  great  Western  kingdoms  are  of  a  later  period,  and 
sprung  probably  out  of  romance,  perhaps  were  first 
inscribed  on  the  banners  to  distinguish  the  several  na* 

I  Glutrlemagii«  was  a  Saint  (Baronius,  utib  ann.  814).  He  was  anfbrtii* 
ntUfy  canoniaed  by  a  Pseudo-Pope  (Pascal).  He  was  worshipped  at  Aix> 
la-Cbapelle,  Hildesheim,  Osnabarg,  Minden,  Halberstadt  —  thus  a  Germati 
father  than  a  French  Saint  See  the  Hymn  to  him,  Daniel,  i.  p.  305,  finom 
the  Halberstadt  Breriaiy. 


214  LATm  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

tions  during  the  Crusades.  For  the  dignity  of  most  of 
these  Saints  there  is  sufficient  legendary  reason  :  as  of 
St.  Denys  in  France,  St.  James  in  Spain,^t.  Andrew 
in  Scotland  (there  was  a  legend  of  the  Apostle's  con- 
version of  Scotland),  St.  Patrick  in  Ireland.  Eng- 
land, however,  instead  of  one  of  the  old  Roman  or 
Saxon  Saints,  St.  Alban,  or  St.  Augustine,  placed  her- 
self under  the  tutelar  guardianship  of  a  Saint  of  very 
doubtftd  origin,  St.  George.^  In  Germany  alone,  not- 
withstanding some  general  reverence  for  St.  Boniface, 
each  kingdom  or  principality,  even  every  city,  town, 
or  village,  had  its  own  Saint.  The  history  of  Latin 
Christianity  may  be  traced  in  its  more  favored  Saints, 
first  Martyrs,  then  Bishops,  then  Fathers,  Jerome, 
Augustin,  Gregory,  then  Monks  (the  type  St.  Ben- 
edict). As  the  Church  grew  in  wealth.  Kings  or  No- 
bles, magnificent  donors,  were  the  Saints ;  as  it  grew 
in  power,  rose  Hierarchical  Saints,  like  Becket.  St. 
Louis  was  the  Saint  of  the  Crusades  and  Chivalry; 
St.  Thomas  Aquinas  and  Bonaventura  of  Scholasticism. 
Female  prophets  might  seem  chosen  to  vie  with  those 
of  the  Fraticelli  and  of  the  Heretics ;  St.  Catherine 
of  Sienna,  St.  Bridget^  (those  Brides  of  Christ),  who 


1  Dr.  Milner  (the  Roman  Catholic)  wrote  an  Essay  against  Gibbon's 
sertion  that "  the  infamous  George  of  Cappadocia  became  the  patron  Saint 
of  England."  He  was,  I  think,  so  far  saccessful;  but  it  is  much  more  easy 
to  say  who  St  George  was  not  than  who  he  was.  * 

s  St.  Bridget  was  beatified  by  Boniface  IX.,  canonised  by  John  XXIII. 
at  the  Council  of  Constance,  confirmed  by  St.  Martin.  The  Swedes  were 
earnest  for  their  Saint  (and  she  had  had  the  merit  of  urging  the  return  of  the 
Popes  from  Avignon).  But  Grerson  threw  some  rationalizing  doubts  on 
the  visions  of  St.  Bridget,  and  on  the  whole  bevy  of  female  Saints,  which 
he  more  than  obviously  hinted  might  be  the  dupes  or  accomplices  of  artful 
Confessors.  The  strange  wild  rhapsodies,  the  visions  of  St.  JBridget,  under 
the  authority  of  Turrecreraata,  were  avouched  by  the  Council  of  Basle. 
See  Gterson's  Tracts,  especially  de  probatione  spirituum,  de  distinctione  ve- 
ramm  visionnm  a  fidsis.  —  Helyot,  iv.  p.  25,  Shroeck,  xxxiii.  p.  189,  &c 


CHAP.n.  SAINT  WOBSHIPPERS.  216 

had  constant  personal  intercourse  with  the  Saints,  with 
the  Virgin,  with  our  Lord  himself.  In  later  days 
Christian  charity,  as  well  as  Mysticism,  had  its  Saints, 
St.  Vincent  de  Paul,  with  St.  Teresa,  and  St.  Francis 
de  Sales. 

To  assert,  to  propagate  the  fame,  the  miracles,  of  his 
proper  Saint  was  the  duty  of  every  King,  of  every 
burgher,  of  every  parishioner,  more  especially  of  the 
Priesthood  in  the  Church  dedicated  to  his  memory, 
which  usually  boasted  of  his  body  buried  under  the 
high  altar,  or  of  relics  of  that  body.  Most  churches 
had  a  commemorative  Anniversary  of  the  Saint,  on 
which  his  wonders  were  the  subjects  of  inexhaustible 
sermons.  It  was  the  great  day  of  pomp,  procession, 
rejoicing,  feasting,  sometimes  rendered  more  attractive 
by  some  new  miracle,  by  some  marvellous  cure,  some 
devil  ejected,  something  which  vied  with  or  outdid  the 
wonders  of  every  neighboring  Saint.  Of  old,  the 
Saint-worshippers  were  more  ambitious.  In  the  days 
of  St.  Martin,  Sulpicius  Severus  urges  on  his  friend 
Posthumianus  to  publish  everywhere,  in  his  distant 
travel  or  on  his  return  from  the  East,  the  fame  of  St. 
Martin.^  ^*  Pass  not  Campania  ;  make  him  known  to 
the  holy  Paulinus,  through  him  it  will  be  published  in 
Rome,  in  Italy,  and  in  Illyricum.  If  you  travel  to 
the  right,  let  it  be  heard  in  Carthage,  where  he  may 
rival  Cyprian ;  if  to  the  lefl,  in  Corinth,  who  will 
esteem  him  wiser  than  Plato,  more  patient  than  Soc- 
rates. Let  Egypt,  let  Asia  hear  the  fame  of  the  Gaul- 
ish  Saint."     That,  however,   was  when  Saints  were 

^Dom  recnrris  diversasqae  regiones^  loca.  portus,  insula9f  urbesque 
pneter  lefps,  Martini  nomen  et  gloriam  sparge  per  populos.  —  Y.  S.  Marti- 
al, Dialog,  iii.  p.  683. 


216  LATIN  CHHISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

Wire.  More  restricted  commerce,  and  the  preoccupa- 
tion of  every  land,  every  city,  every  chnrch  with  its 
own  patron  Saint,  confined  within  the  province,  city, 
or  hamlet,  all  who  had  not  some  universal  claim  to  re-> 
spect,  or  some  wide-spread  fraternity  to  promulgate 
their  name.  Yet  though  there  might  be  jealousy  or 
rivalry  in  the  worship  of  distant  or  neighboring  Saints ; 
as  the  heathens  denied  not  the  gods  of  other  nations, 
even  hostile  nations,  whom  themselves  did  not  worship 
as  gods ;  so  none  would  question  the  saintship,  the  in- 
tercessory powers,  the  marvels  of  another  Saint. 

Thus  throughout  Christendom  was  there  to  every 
Legendfl.  Community  and  every  individual  man  an  In«- 
tercessor  with  the  one  Great  Intercessor  between  God 
and  man,  some  intermediate  being,  less  awful,  more 
humble,  whose  office,  whose  charge,  almost  whose  duty 
it  was  to  si)eed,  or  who,  if  offended,  might  withhold 
the  suppliant  orison.  Every  one  of  these  Saints  had 
his  life  of  wonder,  the  legend  of  his  virtues,  his  mira- 
cles, perhaps  his  martyrdom,  his  shrines,  his  relics. 
The  legend  was  to  his  votaries  a  sort  of  secondary 
Gospel,  wrought  into  the  belief  by  the  constant  itera- 
tion of  its  names  and  events.  The  legend,  in  truth, 
was  the  dqminant,  universal  poetty  of  the  times.  Un- 
less it  had  been  poetry  it  had  not  ruled  the  mind  of 
man  ;  but,  having  been  poetry,  it  most  submit  to  re^ 
main  poetry.  It  is  the  mythic  literature  of  Christen- 
dom,^ interminable  in  its  extent ;  but,  as  its  whole  life 

^  M.  Manry's  work,  "  Les  L^gendes  Pieuses/'  has  exhausted  the  subject. 
Tl  e  more  cautions  readers  must  be  warned  that  M.  Maury  carries  up  his 
i^VF^ em,  where  few  Christians  will  follow  him,  with  hardlv  less  audacitv  than 
Strauss  himself,  into  the  Scriptural  narratives.  Bat  while  we  admit  that 
the  desire  of  conformity  with  the  Life  of  the  Saviour  suggested  a  great 
part  of  the  incidents,  and  that  the  Gospel  miracles  suggested  the  miiades 


Ckap.  n.  EELICS.  217 

is  in  its  particularity,  it  suffers  and  withers  into  dulness 
by  being  brought  into  a  more  compendious  form  ;  and 
so  it  is  that  Hagiography  has  withdrawn  into  its  proper 
domain,  and  left  the  province  of  human  affairs  to  his- 
tory, which  is  not  disdainful,  of  course,  of  the  inci- 
dental information  or  illustration  of  events,  manners, 
characters,  which  transpire  through  the  cloud  of  mar- 
vels. Even  the  philosophy  of  history  endeavors  only 
to  divine  how  men  believed,  or  believed  that  they  be- 
lieved,  this  perpetual  suspension  or  abrogation  of  the 
laws  of  nature ;  how  that  which  was  then  averred  on 
the  authority  of  experience  has  now  fallen  into  neglect 
as  contrary  to  all  experience :  so  that  even  the  most 
vigorous  attempt  to  reinstate  them  is  received  as  a  des- 
perate, hardly  serious,  effort  of  paradoxical  ingenuity, 
falls  dead. on  the  general  mind,  hardly  provokes  scorn 
or  ridicule,  and,  in  fact,  is  transcended  in  interest  by 
every  transitory  folly  or  new  hallucination  which  seems 
to  be  the  indispensable  aliment  required  by  some  part 
of  mankind  in  the  highest  as  in  the  lowest  social  of 
intellectual  state. 

The  legend  was  perpetually  confirmed,  illustrated, 
kept  alive  by  the  substantial,    if  somewhat  Reuoa. 
dimly  and  mysteriously  shown,  relics  which  were  either 
in  the  church,  under  the  altar,  or  upon  the  altar ;  the 
treasure  of  the  community,  or  the  property,  the  talis- 

of  the  later  Saints  —  the  originality,  the  truth,  the  unapproachable  dignity 
of  the  Crospel  type  is  not  only  unimpaired^  but  to  me  becomes  only  mors 
distinct  and  real.  There  is  an  intimRte  harmony,  nowhere  else  found,  be- 
tween the  moral  and  the  supernatural.  The  line  appears  in  my  judgment 
broad  and  ckar;  and  those  who,  like  the  modem  advocates  for  the  belief 
of  the  Middle  Ages,  resolve  the  whole  into  the  attainment  of  a  proper  frame 
of  mind  to  receive  legend  as  truth,  seem  to  me  to  cut  up  altogether  all  be- 
lief in  miracle. 
Compare  some  good  observations  of  Id.  Ampere,  Le9on  XIY. 


218  LATIN  CHRISTUNTTY.  Book  XIV. 

man  of  the  prelate,  the  noble,  or  the  king.  The  reli- 
quary was  the  most  precious  ornament  in  the  lady's 
chamber,  in  the  knight's  armory,  in  the  king's-  hall  of 
state,  as  well  as  in  that  of  the  Bishop  or  the  Pope. 
Our  history  has  perhaps  dwelt  on  relics  with  sufficient 
frequency.  Augustine,  in  the  earlier  times,  had  re- 
proved the  wandering  monks  who  made  a  trade  of  sell- 
ing martyrs'  limbs,  "  if  indeed  they  are  the  limbs  of 
martyrs."  *  The  Theodosian  Code  had  prohibited  the 
violation  of  the  tombs  of  the  martyrs,  and  the  removal 
and  sale  of  their  bodies.^  Gregory  the  Great  had  re- 
proved the  Greek  practice  of  irreverently  disinterring 
and  sending  about  the  bodies  of  Saints :  he  refused  to 
the  Empress  of  Constantinople  relics  of  St.  Paul.*  We 
have  seen  with  what  jealous  parsimony  he  distributed 
the  filings  of  the  chains  of  St.  Peter.*  But,  as  the 
world  darkened,  these  laws  fell  into  desuetude :  the  first 
reverential  feeling  died  away.  In  truth,  to  the  multi- 
plication, dissemination,  veneration  of  relics  conspired 
all  the  weaknesses,  passions,  innate  and  seemingly  in- 
extinguishable propensities  of  mankind ;  the  fondness 
for  cherishing  memorials  of  the  beloved,  in  human  af- 
fection so  excusable,  so  amiable,  how  much  more  so  rf 
objects  of  holy  love,  the  Saints,  the  Blessed  Virgin,  the 
Saviour  himself!  the  pride  of  possessing  what  is  rare; 
the. desire  to  keep  alive  religious  associations  and  relig- 
ious thoughts ;  the  ignorance  of  the  priesthood,  the 
pious  fraud  of  the  priesthood,  admitted  to  be  Christian 

1  De  oper.  Monachonim,  c.  8. 

3  Humauum  corpus  nemo  ad  alterum  locum  transferat,  nemo  martyrem 
detrahat,  nemo  mereetur. 

s  Ad  Imperat  Constant  —  Compare  Act.  Ordinis  S.  Benedict!  II.  Piicf. 
zxx. 

*  Vol.  u.  p.  98. 


Chap.  H.  RELICS.  219 

virtue  in  order  to  promote  devotion  and  so  the  spiritual 
welfare  of  man.  Add  to  all  this  the  inherent  indefea- 
sible power  ascribed  to  relics  to  work  miracles.  No 
wonder  that  with  the  whole  Christian  world  deeming 
it  meritorious  and  holy  to  believe,  dangerous,  impious 
to  doubt,  there  should  be  no  end  or  limit  to  belief;  that 
the  wood  of  the  true  Cross  should  grow  into  a  forest ; 
that  wild  fictions,  the  romance  of  the  Wise  Men  of  the 
East  transmuted  into  kings,  the  Eleven  Thousand  Vir- 
gins, should  be  worshipped  in  the  rich  commercial  cities 
on  the  Rhine ;  that  delicacy  and  even  reverence  should 
not  take  oflFence,  as  at  the  milk  of  the  Blessed  Virgin ; 
that  the  most  perishable  things  should  become  imper- 
ishable, the  garments  of  the  Saviour  and  the  Saints. 
Not  even  the  fiercest  feuds  could  detect  imposture. 
Tours  and  Poitiers  quarrelled  for  the  body  of  St.  Mar- 
tin ;  St.  Benedict  was  stolen  away  from  Italy :  we  have 
seen  the  rejoicing  at  his  arrival  in  France ;  and  the  ex- 
pedition sent  by  Eginhard  to  Italy  in  search  of  pious 
plunder.  There  were  constant  wars  between  monastery 
and  monastery  ;  marauding  campaigns  were  carried  on 
against  some  neighboring  treasure-house.  France  was 
smitten  with  famine,  because  Clotaire  II.  cut  off  and 
stole  an  arm  of  St.  Denys,  under  the  instigation  of  the 
Devil.*  It  was  virtue  in  St.  Ouen  to  steal  the  head 
of  St.  Marculph.  But  as  to  disputing  the  genuineness, 
unless  of  rival  relics,  or  questioning  their  wonder-work- 
ing power,  it  never  entered  into  the  profane  thought 
of  man.      How  the  Crusades  immeasurably  increased 

1  Annales  Dagobert.  Herman  Comer  gives  the  price  of  some  lelica. 
Egilmund,  Archbishop  of  Canterbuiy ,  boaght  for  his  Church  (a.d.  mxxi.) 
an  arm  of  St.  Augastine,  at  Pavia,  for  100  talents  of  pnre  silver  and  one 
of  gold« 


220  -LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book XIV. 

the  wealth  of  Western  Christendom  in  relics^  how  they 
opened  an  important  branch  of  traffic,  needs  no  further 
illustration.  To  the  very  verge  of  our  historic  period 
the  worship  of  relics  is  in  its  unshaken  authority.  At 
the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century  the  Duke  of  Betry 
obtains  a  piece  of  the  head  of  St.  Hilary  of  Poitiers  aa 
a  most  splendid  present  for  the  city  of  Poitiers  from  the 
Abbey  of  St.  Denys ;  ^  he  had  already  obtained  the 
chin.  The  exhibition  of  the  Holy  Coat  of  Treves  — 
a  treasure  possessed  by  more  than  one  other  Churchy 
and  more  than  one  avouched  by  Papal  authority  —  may 
show  how  deep-rooted  in  human  nature  is  this  strange 
form  of  religiousness.  One  of  the  most  remarkable 
illustrations  of  relic-worship  occurs  afier  the  close  of 
our  history,  during  the  pontificate  of  u£neas  Sylvius^ 
Pius  II.  The  head  of  St.  Andrew  (Amalfi  boasted 
the  immemorial  possession  of  the  body)  had  been  wor- 
shipped for  centuries  at  Patras.  As  the  Turks  ad- 
vanced in  the  Morea,  the  fugitive  Despot  would  not 
leave  this  precious  treasure  exposed  to  the  profane  in- 
sults of  the  unbelievers.  He  carried  it  with  him  in  hia 
flight.  Kings  vied  for  the  purchase ;  vast  sums  were 
offered.  The  Pope  urged  upon  the  Despot  that  he 
could  not  permit  such  a  relic  to  repose  anywhere  but  at 
Rome.  The  head  of  St.  Andrew  should  rest  by  that 
of  his  brother  St.  Peter ;  the  Saint  himself  would  re- 
sist any  other  arrangement.  The  Despot  arrived  at 
Ancona  with  his  freight.  It  was  respected  by  the 
stormy  seas.     A  Cardinal  of  the  most  blameless  life 


^  Partieulftm  qnandam  capitis  ejus  sancti,  a  parte  poetetiori  venoa  aarem 
lextram  ad  modum  triangalif  in  longitodine  et  latitudine  spaciam  triam 
digitorum.  —  Kel.de  St.  Denrs.  xiv.  16.  The  mntilatbii  Mem«  not  td 
have  been  thought  irreverent 


Chap.  H.  HELL.  221 

was  chofien  to  receive  and  inspect  the  relic ;  by  what 
signs  he  judged  the  head  to  be  that  of  St.  Andrew  we 
know  not.  Bnt  Romagna  was  in  too  dangerous  a  state 
to  allow  it  at  once  to  be  transported  to  Rome ;  the 
fierce  Piccinino  or  the  atheist  Malatesta  would  not 
have  scrupled  to  have  seized  it  for  their  own  use,  wor- 
shipped it,  or  sold  it  at  an  exorbitant  price.  It  was 
conveyed  for  security  to  the  strong  fortress  of  Nami. 
When  Piccinino's  forces  were  dispereed,  and  peace  re- 
stored, it  was  brought  in  stately  procession  to  Rome, 
It  was  intended  that  the  most  glorious  heads  of  St.  Pe* 
ter  and  St.  Paul  should  go  forth  to  meet  that  of  their 
brother  Apostle.  But  the  vast  mass  of  gold  which  en- 
shrined, the  cumbrous  iron  which  protected,  these  relics 
were  too  heavy  to  be  moved :  so  without  them  the 
Pope,  the  Cardinab,  the  whole  population  of  Rome 
thronged  forth  to  the  meadows  near  the  Milvian 
Bridge.  The  Pope  made  an  eloquent  address  to  the 
head ;  a  hymn  was  sung,  entreating  the  Saint's  aid  in 
the  discomfiture  of  the  Turks.  It  rested  that  day  on 
the  altar  of  St.  Maria  del  Popolo,  was  then  conveyed 
through  the  city,  decorated  with  all  splendor  (the  Jubi- 
lee under  Nicolas  V.  saw  not  Rome  more  crowded),  to 
St.  Peter's.  Cardinal  Bessarion  preached  a  sermon  ; 
the  head  was  deposited  with  those  of  his  brother  Apos- 
tles under  the  high  altar.^ 

Throughout  the  Middle  Ages  the  world  after  death 
continued  to  reveal  more  and  more  fully  its  awful  se- 
crets. Hell,  Purgatory,  Heaven  became  more  distinct, 
if  it  may  be  so  said,  more  visible.  Their  site,  their  to- 
pography, their  torments,  their  trials,  their  enjoyments, 
became  more   conceivable,   almost  more  palpable   to 

1  Commentarii  Pii  II. 


222  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

sense:  till  Dante  summed  up  the  whole  of  this  tradi- 
tional lore,  or  at  least,  with  a  Poet's  intuitive  sagacity, 
seized  on  all  which  was  most  imposing,  effective,  real, 
and  condensed  it  in  his  three  coordinate  poems.  That 
H«u.  Hell  had  a  local  existence,  that  immaterial 

spirits  suffered  bodily  and  material  torments  ;  none,  or 
scarcely  one  hardy  speculative  mind,  presumed  to 
doubt.^  Hell  had  admitted,  according  to  legend,  more 
than  one  visitant  from  this  upper  world,  who  returned 
to  relate  his  fearful  journey  to  wondering  man :  St. 
Fiercy,^  St.  Vettin,*  a  layman  Bernilo.*  But  all  these 
early  descents  interest  us  only  as  they  may  be  supposed 
or  appear  to  have  been  faint  types  of  the  great  Italian 
Poet.  Dante  is  the  one  authorized  topographer  of  the 
mediaeval  Hell.^  His  originality  is  no  more  called  ia 
question  by  these  mere  signs  and  manifestations  of  the 
popular  belief  than  by  the  existence  and  reality  of 

1  Scotus  Erigena,  perhaps  alone,  dared  to  question  the  locality  of  HeH, 
and  the  material  tortures  of  the  damned.  Diversas  suppliciorum  formas 
non  localiter  in  quadam  parte,  veluti  toto  hujus  visibilis  creaturae,  et  ut  sim- 
pliciter  dicam  neque  intra  diversitatem  totius  naturae  a  Deo  conditn  futunui 
esse  credimus;  et  neque  nunc  esse,  et  nusquam  et  nunquam.  The  punish- 
ment in  which  Erigena  believed  was  terrrible  remorse  of  conscience,  the 
sense  of  impossible  repentance  or  pardon.  At  the  final  absorption  of  all 
things,  that  genuine  Indian  absorption,  derived  from  his  master  the  Psea- 
do-Dionysius,  evil  and  sin  would  be  destroyed  forever,  not  evil  ones  and 
sinners.  Erigena  boldly  citen  Origen,  and  extorts  from  other  authorities  an 
opinion  to  the  same  effect,  of  the  final  salvation,  the  return  unto  the  Deity, 
of  the  Devil  himself.  There  is  nothing  eternal  but  God.  Omne  quod 
Btemum  in  Deo  solummodo  intelligi ;  nee  uUa  setemitas  extra  eum  qui  so- 
lus est  aetemus  et  setemitas.  He  thus  gets  rid  of  all  relating  to  eternal 
fire.  Read  the  remarkable  passage  in  the  5th  Book  de  Natura,  from  the 
xxv.th  at  least  to  xxxvi.th  chapters. 

3  Bede,  iii.  19.  Mabillon,  AcU  S.  Benedict!,  iii.  807.  The  BoUandista, 
Jan.  ii.  p.  44. 

«  Mabillon,  iv.  272. 

4  Flodoard,  iii.  3. 

«  See  Damiaui's  Hell  and  Heaven,  iv.  Ep.  xiv.  viii.  2.  Consult  alio 
CKdmon. 


Chap.  H.  HELL.  223 

tliose  objects  or  scenes  in  external  nature  which  he 
describes  with  such  unrivalled  truth.^  In  Dante  meet 
unreconciled  (who  thought  of  or  cared  for  their  recon- 
ciliation ?)  those  strange  contradictions,  immaterial 
souls  subject  to  material  torments :  spirits  which  had 
pat  off  the  mortal  body,  cognizable  by  the  corporeal 
sense.^  The  mediaeval  Hell  had  gathered  from  all  ages, 
all  lands,  all  races,  its  imagery,  its  denizens,  its  site,  its 
access,  its  commingling  horrors ;  from  the  old  Jewish 
traditions,  perhaps  from  the  regions  beyond  the  sphere 
of  the  Old  Testament;  from  the  Pagan  poets,  with 
their  black  rivers,  their  Cerberus,  their  boatman  and 
his  crazy  vessel;  perhaps  from  the  Teutonic  Hela, 
through  some  of  the  earlier  visions.  Then  came  the 
great  Poet,  and  reduced  all  this  wild  chaos  to  a  kind  of 
order,  moulded  it  up  with  the  cosmical  notions  of  the 
times,  and  made  it,  as  it  were,  one  with  the  prevalent 
mundane  system.  Above  all,  he  brought  it  to  the  very 
bordere  of  our  world ;  he  made  the  life  beyond  the 
grave  one  with  our  present  life ;  he  mingled  in  close 

1  There  is  a  Rtrange  book  written  at  the  beginning  of  the  seventeenth 
century,  "De  Inferno/'  bj  Antonio  Rusca  (Milan,  1621).  It  is  dedicated 
with  fearfUl  simplicity  to  our  Saviour.  It  settles  gravely,  logically,  as  it 
would  be  supposed  authoritatively,  and  not  without  erudition,  eveiy  ques- 
tion relating  to  Hell  and  its  Inhabitants,  its  place,  extent,  divisions,  tor- 
ments. 

2  This  was  embarrassing  to  the  philosophic  heathen.  "  Tantum  valuit 
crmr,  nt  corpora  cremata  cum  scirent,  tamen  ea  fieri  apud  inferos  fingerent, 
qnK  sine  corporibus  nee  fieri  pos9unt  nee  intelligi.  Animos  enim  per  seip- 
KM  viventes  non  poterant  mente  complecti,  formam  aliquam  figuramque 
quserebant."  —  Cicer.  Tusc.  i.  c.  16.  Rusca  lays  it  down  as  th^  Catholic 
doctrine,  "  Docet  tamen  Catholica  Veritas,  infernum  malorum  carcerem 
esse  locum  quendam  materialem  et  corporeum."  1.  c.  xxviii.  The  more 
enlightened  Peter  Lombard  speaks  of  "  non  corporalem,  sed  corpori  simi- 
lem.**  Souls  were  home  bodily  to  Heaven  by  visible  Angels,  fought  for  by 
visible  Devils.  See  the  battle  for  the  Soul  of  King  Dagobert.  Maury,  p. 
80. 


224  LATIN  CHBISTIANITT.  BooeXIV- 

and  intimate  relation  the  present  and  the  Aiture.  Hell, 
Purgatory,  Heaven  were  but  an  immediate  expansion 
and  extension  of  the  present  world.  And  this  is  among 
the  wonderfid  causes  of  Dante's  power,  the  realizing 
the  unreal  by  tlie  admixture  of  the  real :  even  as  in  bia 
imagery  the  actual,  homely,  everyday  language  or  si- 
militude mingles  with  and  heightens  the  fantastic,  the 
\  ague,  the  transmundane.  What  effect  had  hell  pro- 
duced, if  peopled  by  ancient,  almost  immemorial  ob- 
jects of  human  detestation,  Nimrod  or  Iscariot,  or 
Julian  or  Mohammed  ?  It  was  when  Popes  all  bat 
living,  Eangs  but  now  on  their  thrones,  Guelfs  who  bad 
hardly  ceased  to  walk  the  streets  of  Florence,.  Ghibel- 
lines  almost  yet  in  exile,  revealed  their  awful  doom  — 
this  it  was  which,  as  it  expressed  the  passions  and  the 
fears  of  mankind  of  an  instant,  immediate,  actual, 
bodily,  comprehensible  place  of  torment :  so,  wherever 
it  was  read,  it  deepened  that  notion,  and  made  it  more 
distinct  and  natural.  This  was  the  Hell,  cont<.'rminou8 
to  tlie  earth,  but  separate,  as  it  were,  by  a  gulf  parsed 
by  almost  instantaneous  transition,  of  which  the  Priest- 
hood held  the  keys.  These  keys  the  audacious  Poet 
had  wrenched  from  their  hands,  and  dared  to  turn  on 
many  of  themselves,  speaking  even  against  Popes  the 
sentence  of  condemnation.  Of  that  which  Hell,  Pur- 
gatory, Heaven  were  in  popular  opinion  during  the 
Middle  Ages,  Dante  was  but  the  full,  deep,  concentred 
expression ;  what  he  embodied  in  verse  all  men  believed, 
feared,,  hoped. 

Purgatory  had  now  its  intermediate  place  between 
PorgatoiT.  Hcaveu  and  Hell,  as  unquestioned,  as  undis- 
turbed by  doubt ;  its  existence  was  as  much  an  article 
of  uncontested  popular  belief  as  Heaven  or  Hell.     It 


Cb^.  n.  PUBQATORT.  225 

were  as  unjust  and  unphilosophical  to  attribute  all  the 
legendary  lore  which  realized  Purgatory,  to  the  sordid 
inyention  of  the  Churchman  or  the  Monk,  as  it  would 
be  unhistorical  to  deny  the  use  which  was  made  of 
this  superstition  to  exact  tribute  from  the  fears  or  the 
fondness  of  mankind.  But  the  abuse  grew  out  of  the 
belief;  the  belief  was  not  slowly,  subtly,  deUberately 
instilled  into  the  mind  for  the  sake  of  the  abuse.  Pur- 
gatory, possible  with  St.  Augustine,^  probable  with 
Grregory  the  Great,  grew  up,  I  am  persuaded  (its 
growth  is  singularly  indistinct  and  untraceable),  out 
of  the  mercy  and  modesty  of  the  Priesthood,  To  the 
eternity  of  Hell  torments  there  is  and  ever  must  be-<- 
notwithstanding  the  peremptory  decrees  of  dogmatic 
dieology  and  the  reverential  dread  in  so  many  religious 
minds  of  tampering  with  what  seems  the  language  of 
the  New  Testament  —  a  tacit  repugnance.  But  when 
the  doom  of  every  man  rested  on  the  lips  of  the  Priest, 
on  his  absolution  or  refusal  of  absolution,  that  Priest 
might  well  tremble  with  some  natural  awe — awe  not 
confessed  to  himself — at  dismissing  the  soul  to  an  irrev- 
ocable, unrepealable,  unchangeable  destiny.  He  would 
not  be  averse  to  pronounce  a  more  mitigated,  a  revers- 
ible sentence.  The  keys  of  Heaven  and  of  Hell  were 
a  fearful  trust,  a  terrible  responsibility;  the  key  of 
Purgatory  might  be.  used  with  &r  less  presumption, 
with  less  trembling  confidence.  Then  came  naturally, 
as  it  might  seem,  the  strengthening  and  exaltation  of 
the  efficacy  of  prayer,  of  the  efficacy  of  the  religious 
ceremonials,  of  the  efficacy  of  the  sacrifice  of  the  altar, 
and  the  efficacy  of  the  intercession  of  the  Saints :  and 
these  all  within  the  province,  within  the  power  of  the 

1  De  fide  et  oper.,  c  16.    On  Gregory,  lee  note,  vol  ii.  p.  101. 
VOL.  vni.  16 


226  LATIN  CHRISTIANmr-  Book  XIV. 

Sacerdotal  Order.  Their  authority,  their  inflaence, 
their  intervention,  closed  not  with  the  grave.  The  de- 
parted soul  was  still  to  a  certain  degree  dependent  upon 
the  Priest.  They  had  yet  a  mission,  it  might  be  of 
mercy ;  they  had  still  some  power  of  saving  the  soul 
after  it  had  departed  from  the  body.  Their  &ithfu] 
love,  their  inexhaustible  interest  might  yet  rescue  the 
sinner ;  for  he  had  not  reached  those  gates  —  over 
which  alone  was  written,  "  There  is  no  Hope  "  —  the 
gates  of  Hell.  That  which  was  a  mercy,  a  consola- 
tion, became  a  trade,  an  inexhaustible  source  of  wealth. 
Praying  souls  out  of  Purgatory  by  Masses  said  on  their 
MMMfl.  behalf,  became  an  ordinary  ofBce,  an  office 
which  deserved,  which  could  demand,  which  did  de- 
mand, the  most  prodigal  remuneration.  It  was  later 
indoicrenoM.  that  the  Indulgence,  originally  the  remission 
of  so  much  penance,  of  so  many  days,  weeks,  months, 
years  ;  or  of  that  which  was  the  commutation  for  pen- 
ance, so  much  almsgiving  or  munificence  to  churches  or 
Churchmen,  in  sound  at  least  extended  (and  mankind, 
the  high  and  low  vulgar  of  mankind,  are  governed  by 
sound)  its  significance :  it  was  literally  understood,  as 
the  remission  of  so  many  years,  sometimes  centuries,  of 
Purgatory.^ 

If  there  were  living  men  to  whom  it  had  been  vouch- 
safed to  visit  and  to  return  and  to  reveal  the  secrets  of 

1  Unde  quibusdam  in  locis  concedebantur  tandem  expresse  indolgentijB 
a  pand  tt  a  culpd^  licet  quidam  snranii  Pontifices  absurdam  censuisse  vi- 
dentnr  aliquas  indulgentias  a  paen&  €t  a  calp&  esse  nominandas,  cam  a  solo 
Deo  calpa  deleatur;  et  indulgentia  est  remissio  pcenn  temporalis,  .  .  . 
Unde  quidam  concessiones  hujusmodi  magis  deceptiones  quam  indulgentia- 
ram  concessiones  intcrpretantes  cum  eas  intentu  lucri  temporalis  fieri  jadi- 
cabant,  dicere  non  timebant,  anima  nostra  nauseat  saper  cibo  levissimo.^^' 
GobelinoB  Persona,  p.  320.  This  was  in  Germany  during  the  Schism, 
above  a  centoiy  before  Lather. 


Crap.  n.  HEAVEN.  227 

remote  and  terrible  Hell,  there  were  those  too  who 
were  admitted  in  vision,  or  in  actual  life  to  more  acces- 
sible Purgatory,  and  brought  back  intelligence  of  its 
real  local  existence,  and  of  the  state  of  souls  within  its 
penitential  circles.  There  is  a  legend  of  St.  Paul  him- 
self; of  the  French  monk  St.  Farcy;  of  Drithelm, 
related  by  Bede  ;  of  the  Emperor  Charles  the  Fat,  by 
William  of  Malmesbury.  Matthew  Paris  relates  two  or 
three  journeys  of  tlie  Monk  of  Evesham,  of  Thurkill, 
an  Essex  peasant^  very  wild  and  fantastic.  The  Pur- 
gatory of  St.  Patrick,  the  Purgatory  of  Owen  Miles, 
the  vision  of  Alberic  of  Monte  Casino,  were  among  the 
most  popular  and  wide-spread  legends  of  the  ages  pre- 
ceding Dante ;  and  as  in  Hell,  so  in  Purgatory,  Dante 
sums  up  in  his  noble  verses  the  whole  theory,  the 
whole  popular  belief  as  to  this  intermediate  sphere.^ 

If  Hell  and  Purgatory  thus  dimly  divulged   their 
gloomy  mysteries,  if  they  had  been  visited  by  those 
who    returned    to   actual    life.    Heaven   was  Hmwa. 
nnapproached,  unapproachable.     To  be  wrapt  to  the 

1  Vincent  of  Beanvais.  See  the  carious  Tolame  of  Mr.  Wright,  St  Pat- 
rick's Purgatory,  on  Tundale,  p.  32,  &c.  On  Patrick's  Purgatory  in  all  its 
fbrmsi  as  sanctioned  by  Popes,  and  by  the  Bollandist  writers,  as  it  appears 
in  Calderon's  poetry,  and  as  it  is  kept  up  by  Irish  popular  superstition  and 
priestcraft,  Mr.  Wright  has  collected  many  wild  details.  Papal  authority, 
as  shown  by  an  Inscription  in  the  cloister  of  St  Andrea  and  St  Gregorio 
in  Rome,  testifies  to  the  fact,  which,  I  suspect,  would  have  startled  St 
Gregoty  himself,  that  he  got  a  monk  out  of  Purgatory  at  the  expense  of 
thirty  masses. 

D.  0.  H. 

ClemenB  Papa  X. 

Cnltum  Glementiam  YIIL  tt  Villi. 

Imitatus  .  . 

In  hoc  S.  Gregorii  Temptum. 

tTbi  zxz  miflris  animam  monaohi 

Bz  Igne  pQigatorio  libentTit,  fro. 

Copied  by  an  accomplished  friend  of  the  aafhor. 


228  LATIN  CfHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

higher  Heaven  remained  thcprivil^e  of  the  Apoetle ; 
the  popular  conception  was  content  to  rest  in  modeat 
ignorance.  Though  the  Saints  might  descend  on  benef- 
icent missions  to  the  world  of  man  ;  of  the  site  of  their 
beatitude,  of  the  state  of  the  Blest,  of  the  joys  of  the 
supernal  world,  they  brought  but  vague  and  indefinite 
tidings.  In  truth,  the  notion  of  Heaven  was  inextri- 
cably mingled  up  with  the  astronomical  and  cosmogon^ 
ical  as  well  as  with  the  theological  notions  of  the  age. 
Dante's  Paradise  blends  the  Ptolemaic  system  with  the 
nine  angelic  circles  of  the  Pseudo  Dionysius ;  the  ma- 
terial heavens  in  their  nine  circles ;  above  and  beyond 
them,  in  the  invisible  heavens,  the  nine  Hierarchies ; 
and  yet  higher  than  the  highest  heavens  the  dwelling 
of  the  Inei&ble  Trinity.  The  Beatific  Vision,  whether 
immediate  or  to  await  the  Last  Day,  had  been  eluded 
rather  than  determined,  till  the  rash  and  presumptuous 
theology  of  Pope  John  XXH.  compelled  a  declaration 
from  the  Church.  But  yet  this  ascent  to  the  Heaven 
of  Heavens  would  seem  from  Dante,  the  best  intei^ 
preter  of  the  dominant  conceptions,  to  have  been  an 
especial  privilege,  if  it  may  be  so  said,  of  the  most 
Blessed  of  the  Blessed,  the  Saint  of  Saints.  There  is 
a  manifest  gradation  in  Beatitude  and  Sanctity.  Ac^ . 
cording  to  the  universal  cosmical  theory,  the  Earth,  the 
round  and  level  earth,  was  the  centre  of  the  whole  sys- 
tem.^    It  was  usually  supposed  to  be  encircled  by  the . 

^  The  Eaf  tern  notions  may  be  gathered  from  the  curious  Treatise  of  Cos- 
mas  Indioopleustes,  printed  by  Montfliacon,  in  his  Collectio  Nova.  Cosmas 
wrote  about  a.  d.  635.  He  is  periiaps  the  earliest  type  of  those  who  call 
themselves  Scriptural  Philosophers;  with  all  the  positiveness  and  con- 
temptuousness  of  ignorance,  he  proves  that  the  heavens  are  a  vault,  from 
leaiah  xi.  22;  from  Job,  according  to  the  LXX.,  and  St.  Paul's  imaji:e  of  a 
Tabernacle.  The  second  Prologue  is  to  refute  the  notion  that  the  earth  is 
a  sphere,  —  the  antipodes,  which  at  fint  mn  not  ao  diadainfmtty  denied,  Mtt 


obap.  il  hbavsk.  229 

TBstj  circamambient)  endless  ocean ;  bat  beyond  that 
ocean  (with  a  dim  reminiscence,  it  should  seem,  of  the 
Elysian  Fieldi  of  the  poets)  was  placed  a  Paradise, 
where  the  souls  of  men  hereafter  to  be  blest,  awaited 
the  final  resurrection*  Dante  takes  the  otlier  theory : 
he  peoples  the  nine  material  heavens -^  that  is,  the 
cycle  of  the  Moon,  Venus,  Mercury,  the  Sun,  Mars, 
Jupiter,  Saturn,  the  fixed  stars,  and  the  firmament 
above,  or  the  Primum  Mobile  — with  those  who  are 
admitted  to  a  progressively  advancing  state  of  glory 
and  blessedness.  All  this,  it  should  seem,  is  below  the 
ascending  circles  of  the  Celestial  Hierarchies,  that  im* 
mediate  vestibule  or  fore-court  of  the  Holy  of  HolieSt 
the  Heaven  of  Heavens,  into  which  the  most  perfect  of 
the  Saints  are  admitted.  They  are  commingled  with, 
yet  unabsorbed  by,  the  Redeemer,  in  mystic  union ; 
yet  the  mysticism  still  reverently  endeavors  to  maintain 

BOW  term«d  ypcaudeic  /ivi^m  :  men  would  fall  in  opposite  dinctionB.  PandiM 
is  beyond  the  circumfluent  Ocean;  souls  are  received  in  Paradise  till  tha 
last  day  (p.  316).  He  afterwards  asserts  the  absolute  incompatibility  of  the 
spherioal  notion  of  the  earth  with  the  resurrection.  He  fiyes  eevenl 
opinions,  all  of  which,  in  his  opinion,  are  equalh'  wrong.  01  fttu  k^  aiyrbif 
T^  ^X^  fj^oc  f^Tii  i&avaTW,  nepinoXeveiv  oihf  ry  a^tup^^  luH  Spav  ijroi 
yiyviiOKeiv  navra  Xiycvai'  ol  dk  Koi  fierevoufidTtiuiv  poiiXovrat,  koI  irpopUh 
H^  uowu^m,  olc  Ka  inercu  Xiyetv  k^  Lnokav&iai  Mrakbefr&ai  r^v  a^pav. 
The  heavens  are  indissoluble,  and  all  spiritualized  bodies  are  to  ascend  to 
heaven.  He  gets  rid  of  the  strong  passages  about  the  heavens  passing 
away,  as  meta]Aora  (this  in  others  he  treated  as  absurd  or  impious).  He 
dcniea  the  authenticity  of  the  Catholic  Epistlea. 

It  is  remarkable  that  what  I  presume  to  call  the  Angelology  of  thia 
Treatise  shows  it  to  be  earlier  than  the  Pseudo-Dionysius ;  that  work  can- 
not have  been  known  to  Cosmas.  One  office  of  the  Angels  is  to  move  — 
they  are  the  perpetual  movers  of,  the  Sun,  Moon,  and  Stars.  After  the 
Last  day,  the  stars,  sun,  and  moon  being  no  more  wanted,  the  Angels  will 
be  released  from  their  duty,  p.  164.  The  Angels  carry  the  rain  up  fVom 
heaven  into  the  clouds,  and  so  manage  the  stars  as  to  cause  Eclipses. 
These  are  guardian  Angela.  The  Angels  de  not  aaoend  above  the  atars, 
p.  316. 


230  LATIN    CHRISnANITY.  Book  XIV. 

gome  distinction  in  regard  to  this  Light,  which,  as  it 
has  descended  upon  earth,  is  drawn  up  again  to  the 
highest  Heavens,  and  has  a  kind  of  communion  with 
the  yet  Incommunicable  Deity.  That  in  all  the  Par- 
adise of  Dante  there  should  be  a  dazzling  sameness,  a 
mystic  indistinctness,  an  inseparable  blending  of  the 
real  and  the  unreal,  is  not  wonderful,  if  we  consider 
the  nature  of  the  subject,  and  the  still  more  incoherent 
and  incongruous  popular  conceptions  which  he  had  to 
represent  and  to  harmonize.  It  is  more  wonderful  that, 
with  these  few  elements.  Light,  Music,  and  Mysticism, 
he  should,  by  his  singular  talent  of  embodying  the 
purely  abstract  and  metaphysical  thought  in  the  live- 
liest imagery,  represent  such  things  with  the  most  ob- 
jective truth,  yet  without  disturbing  their  fine  spirit- 
ualism. The  subtilest  scholasticism  is  not  more  subtile 
than  Dante.  It  is  perhaps  a  bold  assertion,  but  what 
is  there  on  these  transcendent  subjects,  in  the  vast  the- 
ology of  Aquinas,  of  which  the  essence  and  sum  is  not 
in  the  Paradise  of  Dante?  Dante,  perhaps,  though 
expressing  to  a  great  extent  the  popular  conception  of 
Heaven,  is  as  much  by  his  innate  sublimity  above  it,  as 
St.  Thomas  himself.^ 


1  Bead  the  Anglo-Saxon  description  of  Paradise,  from  the  de  Phcenioe, 
ascribed  to  Lactantios,  in  the  Exeter  book  by  Thoipe,  p.  197. 

I  am  disposed  to  cite  a  description  of  Paradise  according  to  its  ordinaiy 
oonception,  almost  the  only  possible  conception — life  without  any  of  its 
evils  —  from  a  Poet  older  than  Chancer:  — 

There  Is  lyf  withoate  ony  deth. 
And  ther  is  youthe  withonts  ony  elde, 
And  ther  Is  elle  manner  welth  to  welde : 
And  ther  is  reete  without  ony  trarsUle  — 
And  ther  Is  pees  withont  ony  itrilbf 
And  ther  is  alle  mannere  likynge  of  Ulb — 
And  ther  it  bright  somer  ever  to  be : 
And  tber  is  nerere  wynter  in  that  enntree: 


C&4F.  a  HEAVEN.  231 

And  fh«r  is  mon  wonhipe  and  honour, 
Thfta  eTW  hadde  kynge  other  emperonr. 
And  ther  la  greter  melodee  of  annfelM  aoofa, 
And  ther  it  preydng  him  amonge. 
And  thar  ia  aUe  nuner  Mendahipe  that  mfj  be, 
And  ther  ia  erere  perfect  lore  and  chaiitle ; 
And  ther  ia  wisdom  withont  Iblye : 
And  ther  la  honeate  without  Tilenage. 
All  theae  a  man  may  Joyea  of  Herene  call, 
Ae  yatte  the  moat  aorereign  Joye  of  alle 
la  the  aight  of  Goddea  bright  ftoe, 
In  whom  reateth  alle  manere  grace. 

BitkmH  qf  BBUf^oU,  quoted  from  M8S.  by  Turner.    Hlat.  of  Sni^aad,  t.  SBB^ 


232  lATm  CHBISTIANnT.  BookHV. 


CHAPTER  m. 

LATIN  LETT£BS. 

Latin  Chbistianity  might  seem  to  prolong,  to  per- 
utin  letters,  petuate,  the  reign  of  Latin  letters  over  the 
mind  of  man.  Without  Christianity,  the  language  of 
Cicero,  of  Virgil,  and  of  Tacitus,  might  have  expired 
with  the  empire  of  Julius,  of  Augustus,  and  of  Tra- 
jan. At  the  German  invasion  it  must  have  broken  up 
into  barbarous  and  shifting  dialects,  as  the  world  into 
barbarous  and  conflicting  kingdoms.  But  as  the  lan- 
guage of  religion,  it  continued  to  be  the  language  of 
letters,  for  letters  were  almost  entirely  confined  to  those 
who  alone  could  write  books  or  read  books,  religious 
men.  Through  the  clergy,  the  secretaries  as  it  were 
of  mankind,  it  was  still  the  language  of  business,  of 
law,  of  public  affiiirs,  of  international  treaties  and  pri- 
vate compacts,  because  it  was  the  only  common  lan- 
guage, and  because  the  ecclesiastics,  the  masters  of 
that  language,  were  from  this  and  from  causes  already 
traced,  the  ministers  of  kings,  the  compilers  of  codes 
of  law,  mostly  the  notaries  of  all  more  important 
transactions.  It  only  broke  down  gradually  ;  it  never, 
though  defaced  by  barbarisms  and  foreign  terms  and 
forms  of  speech,  by  changing  grammar  and  by  the 
sfaintAiiMd  introduction  of  new  words,  fell  into  desue- 
luity.         tude.     It  even  just  before  its  abrogation  re- 


Chap.  HI.     VITALITY  OF  THE  LATIN  LANGUAGE.  283 

rived  in  something  approaching  to  purity,  and  resumed 
within  its  own,  and  that  no  narrow  sphere,  its  old  e^ 
tablished  authority.  The  period  at  which  Latin  ceased 
to  be  the  spoken  language,  in  which  the  preacher  ad- 
dressed his  flock,  the  magistrate  the  commonalty,  the 
demagogue  the  populace,  was  of  course  different  in  dif» 
ferent  countries,  especially  in  the  Romance  and  Teu- 
tonic divisions  of  mankind.  This  may  hereafter  be  the 
subject  of  very  difficult,  obscure,  it  must  be  feared^ 
unsatis&ctory  inquiry. 

But  if  Latin  was  the  language  of  public  affairs,  it 
was  even  more  exclusively  so  that  of  letters.  Not  only 
all  theologians,  for  a  time  all  poets  (at  least  those  whose 
poetry  was  written},  still  longer  all  historians,  to  the 
end  all  philosophers,  wrote  in  Latin.  Christian  liter- 
ature however  arose,  not  only  when  Latin  letters  had 
passed  their  meridian,  but  after  their  short  day  of  glory 
and  strength  had  sunk  into  exhaustion.  The  univeiv 
sal  empire  of  Rome  had  been  fatal  to  her  letters. 
Few,  indeed,  of  her  best  early  writers  had  been  Roman 
by  birth ;  but  they  were  Italians,  and  submitted  to  the 
spell  of  Roman  ascendency.  Even  under  the  Emper- 
ors, Graul  and  Spain  began  to  furnish  Latin  poets  and 
writers :  for  a  short  time  Rome  subdued  them  to  the 
rules  of  her  own  grammar  and  the  purer  usages  of  her 
speech.  But  in  the  next  century  Latin  letters,  except* 
ing  only  among  the  great  jurisprudents,  seem  almost 
to  have  given  place  to  Greek.  They  awoke  again  pro- 
foundly corrupt ;  the  barbariadng  Augustan  historians 
sink  into  the  barbarous  Ailimianus  Marcellinus.  Africa 
becomes  a  prolific  but  dissonant  school  of  heathen  and 
of  Christian  writers ;  ft*om  some  of  the  Panegyrists, 
who  were  Gallic  rhetoricians,  low  enough  in  style,  the 


234  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Borne  XIV. 

&11  is  rapid  and  extreme  to  Hilary  of  Poitiers.  Yet 
even  in  this  respect  Latin  owes  its  vitality,  and  almost 
its  Latinity,  to  Christian  writers.  Augustine  and  Je- 
rome, though  their  Latin  is  very  different  from  that  of 
Livy  or  of  Cicero,  have  a  kind  of  dexterous  manage- 
ment, a  vigorous  mastery,  and  a  copiousness  of  lan- 
guage, unrivalled  in  their  days.  Sulpicius  Sevcnis 
sui*passes  in  style  any  later  historical  work;  Salvian 
is  better  than  the  Panegyrists.  The  Octavius  of  Mi- 
nucius  Felix  has  more  of  the  older  grace  and  correct- 
ness than  any  treatise  of  the  day.  Heathenism,  or 
Indifierentism,  strangely  enough,  kept  up  the  Pagan 
supremacy  in  poetry  alone ;  Claudian,  and  even  the 
few  lines  of  Merobaudes,  stand  higher  in  purity,  as 
in  the  life,  of  poetry,  than  all  the  Christian  hexam- 
etrists. 

Latin  letters,  therefore,  having  become  the  absolute 
exclusive  property  of  the  clergy,  theology,  of  course, 
took  the  first  place,  and  almost  absorbed  into  itself 
every  other  branch  of  literature.  Oratory  was  that  of 
the  pulpit,  philosophy  was  divinity  in  another  form. 
Even  poetry  taught  theology,  or  at  its  highest  cele- 
brated the  holy  exploits  of  hermits  or  monks,  of  saints 
and  martyrs ;  and  so  it  was  through  centuries,  theology 
once  having  assumed,  held  its  unshaken  supremacy  over 
letters. 

But  at  the  time  of  Nicolas  V.  became  manifest  the 
great  revolution  within  Latin  Christianity  itself,  which 
was  eventually  to  be  fatal,  at  least  to  her  universal 
Behoiuti-  dominion.  The  great  system  of  scholastic 
•*~-  theology,  the  last  development  of  that  exclu- 

sive Hierarchical  science,  which  had  swallowed  up  all 
other  sciences,  of  which  philosophy  was  but  a  subject 


iSHAP.  in.  SCHOLASTICISM.  235 

province,  and  dialectics  an  humble  instrument,  found 
itseli^,  instead  of  the  highest  knowledge  and  the  sole 
consummate  dictatorial  learning  of  the  world,  no  more 
than  the  retired  and  self-exiled  study  of  a  still  decreas- 
ing few,  the  professional  occupation  of  a  small  section 
of  the  reading  and  inquiring  world.  Its  empire  had 
visibly  passed  away  —  its  authority  was  shaken.  In 
its  origin,  in  its  objects,  in  its  style,  in  its  immeasur- 
able dimensions,  in  its  scholasticism  in  short,  this  all- 
ruling  Theology  had  been  monastic ;  it  had  grown  up 
in  cloisters  and  in  schools.  There,  men  of  few  wants, 
and  those  wants  supplied  by  rich  endowments,  in  the 
dignity  which  belonged  to  the  acknowledged  leading 
intellects  of  the  age,  could  devote  to  such  avocations 
their  whole  undisturbed,  undivided  lives  —  lives,  at 
least,  in  which  nothing  interfered  with  the  quiet,  mo- 
notonous, undistracting  religious  services.  But  Theol- 
ogy, before  it  would  give  up  its  tenacious  hold  on 
letters,  must  become  secular ;  it  must  emancipate  itself 
from  scholasticism,  from  monasticism.  It  was  not  till 
after  that  first  revolution  that  the  emancipation  of  let- 
tefs  from  theology  was  to  come. 

Our  history,  before  it  closes,  must  survey  the  im- 
mense, and,  notwithstanding  its  infinite  variety  and 
complexity  of  detail,  the  harmonious  edifice  of  Latin 
theology.^     We  must  behold  its  strife,  at  times  success- 

1  That  survey  must  of  necessity  be  rapidi  and,  as  rapid,  imperfect ;  nor 
can  I  boast  any  extensive  or  profound  acquaintance  with  these  ponderous 
tomes.  The  two  best  guides  which  I  have  been  able  to  find  (both  have 
read,  studied,  profited  by  .their  laborious  predece89ors)  are  Ritter,  in  the 
Tolumes  of  his  Christliche  Philosophic,  which  embrace  this  part  of  his  his- 
t4iiry;  and  an  excellent  Treatise  by  M.  Haureau,  de  la  Philosophie  Scolas- 
tique  M^moire  Couronn^  par  T  Academic,  2  tomes,  Paris,  1850. 

In  England  we  have  no  guide.  Dr.  Hampden,  who,  from  his  article  in 
&e  Encyclopaedia  Metropolitana,  on  Thomas  Aquinas,  promised  to  be  the 


286  LATIN  CHRISTUNITY.  Book  XIV. 

fill,  always  obstinate,  with  philosophy  —  its  active  and 
skilful  employment  of  the  weapons  of  philosophy,  of 
dialectics,  against  their  master  —  its  constant  effort  to 
be  at  once  philosophy  and  theology ;  the  irmption  of 
Aristotelianism  and  of  the  Arabic  philosophy,  of  which 
the  Church  did  not  at  first  apprehend  all  the  peril* 
OQS  results,  and  in  her  pride  supposed  that  she  might 
bind  to  her  own  service ;  the  culmination  of  the  whole 
system  in  the  five  great  schoolmen,  Albert  the  Greats 
Thomas  Aquinas,  Bonaventura,  Duns  Scotus,  William 
of  Ockham.  All  this  scholasticism  was  purely  Latin 
—  no  Teutonic  element  entered  into  the  controversies 
of  the  philosophizing  theologians.  In  England,  in  Ger- 
many, the  schools  and  the  monasteries  were  Latin  ;  the 
disputants  spoke  no  other  tongue.  The  theology  which 
aspired  to  be  philosophy  would  not  condescend  to,  could 
not  indeed  as  yet  have  found  expression  in  the  unde- 
veloped vulgar  languages.^ 

Our  history  has  already  touched  on  the  remoter 
ancestors  of  the  Scholastic  theology,  on  the  solitary 
Scotus  Erigena,  who  stands  as  a  lonely  beacon  in  his 
dark  and  turbulent  times,  and  left  none,  or  but  remote^ 
followers.  The  philosophy  of  Erigena  was  what  the 
empire  of  Charlemagne  had  been,  a  vast  organizatioo, 
out  of  the  wreck  of  which  rose  later  schools.  He  was 
by  anticipation  or  tradition  (from  him  Berengar,  as  has 
been  shown,  drew  his  rationalizing  Eucharistic  system), 
by  his  genius,  by  his  Greek  or  Oriental  acquirements, 
by  his  translation  of  the  Pseudo-Dionysius,  a  Platonist, 

English  historian  of  this  remarkable  chapter  in  th«  history  of  the  human 
mind,  has  sunlc  ipto  a  qniet  Bishop. 

1  Die  Philosophie  des  Mittelalters  gehort  nicht  der  Zeiten  an  wo  das 
Deutsche  i£lement  die  Herrschaft  hatte,  sie  ist  rorhenchend  Romaniaohe 
Nator.  — Bitter,  p.37. 


CaAP.m.  MEDLfTAL  THEOLOGY.  287 

or  more  than  a  Platonist ;  at  length  by  his  own  fearless 
fiithoming  onwards  into  unknown  depths,  a  Pantheist. 
We  have  dwelt  on  Anselm,  in  our  judgment  the  real 
parent  of  mediaBval  theology — of  that  theology,  which 
at  the  same  time  that  it  lets  loose  the  reason,  reins  it  in 
with  a  strong  hand ;  on  the  intellectual  insurrection, 
too,  under  Ab^lard,  and  its  suppression.  Anselm's 
lofty  enterprise,  the  reconciliation  of  divinity  and  phi* 
loeophy,  had  been  premature  ;  it  had  ended  in  failure.^ 
Ab^lard  had  been  compelled  to  submit  his  rebellious 
philosophy  at  the  feet  of  authority.  His  fate  for  a 
time,  to  outward  appearance  at  least,  crushed  the  bold 
truths  which  lay  hid  in  his  system.  Throughout  the 
subsequent  period  theology  and  philosophy  are  contest- 
ing occasionally  the  bounds  of  their  separate  domains 
—  bounds  which  it  was  impossible  to  mark  with  vigor 
and  precision.  Metaphysics  soared  into  the  realm  of 
Theology;  Theology  when  it  came  to  Ontology,  to 
reason  on  the  being  of  God,  could  not  but  be  meta* 
physical.  At  the  same  time,  or  only  a  few  years  later 
dian  Aboard,  a  writer,  by  some  placed  on  a  level,  or 
even  raised  to  superiority,  as  a  philosophical  thinker 
orer  Ab^Iard,  Gilbert  de  la  Por^e,  through  the  ab- 
struseness,  perhaps  obscurity  of  his  teaching,  the  dig- 
nity of  his  position  as  Bishop,  and  his  blameless  charac- 
ter, was  enabled  to  tread  this  border  ground,  if  not 
without  censure,  without  persecution. 

But  below  that  transciendental  region,  in  which  the 
mind  treated  of  Being  in  the  abstract,  of  the  primary 
elements  of  thought,  of  the  very  first  conception  of 
God,  Theology,  in  her  proper  sphere,  would  not  endure 

1  L^entreprise  de  S.  Anselme  avait  ^hou^;  penonne  n^ayait  pa  concilier 
Wi  pbilorapbie  et  la  th^ologie.  — Haareau,  i.  p.  818. 


238  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

the  presence  of  her  dangerous  rival.  Theology,  rightly 
so  called,  professed  to  be  primarily  grounded  on  the 
Scriptures,  but  on  the  Scriptures  interpreted,  com- 
mented on,  supplemented  by  a  succession  of  writers 
(the  Fathers),  by  decrees  of  Councils,  and  what  was 
called  the  authority  of  the  Church.  The  ecclesiastical 
law  had  now  taken  the  abbreviated  form  of  a  code, 
rather  a  manual,  under  Ivo  of  Chartres.  So  Theology 
was  to  be  cast  into  short  authoritative  sentences,  which 
might  be  at  once  the  subject  and  the  rule  of  contro- 
versy, the  war-law  of  the  schools.  If  Philosophy  pre- 
sumed to  lay  its  profane  hands  on  these  subjects,  it  was 
warned  off  as  trespassing  on  the.  manor  of  the  Church. 
Logic  might  lend  its  humble  ministrations  to  prove  in 
syllogistic  form  those,  canonized  truths ;  if  it  proceeded 
further,  it  became  a  perilous  and  proscribed  weapon. 

Peter  the  Lombard  was,  as  it  were,  the  Euclid  of 
this  science.  His  sentences  were  to  be  the  irrefragable 
axioms  and  definitions  from  which  were  to  be  deduced 
all  the  higher  and  more  remote  truths  of  divinity  ;  on 
them  the  great  theological  mathematicians  built  what 
appeared  their  infallible  demonstrations. 

Peter  the  Lombard  was  born  near  Novara,  the 
Peter  the  native  place  of  Lanfranc  and  of  Anselm. 
Lombard.  jj^  ^^g  fiishop  of  Parfs  in  1159.  His  fer 
mous  book  of  the  Sentences  was  intended  to  be,  and 
became  to  a  great  extent,  the  Manual  of  the  Schools. 
Peter  knew  not,  or  disdainfully  threw  aside,  the  philo- 
sophical cultivation  of  his  day.  He  adhered  rigidly  to 
all  which  passed  for  Scripture,  and  was  the  authorized 
interpretation  of  the  Scripture,  to  all  which  had  bo- 
come  the  creed  in  the  traditions,  and  law  in  the  decre- 
tals, of  the  Church.     He  seems  to  have  no  apprehen- 


Cbap.  m.  PETER  THE  LOMBARD.  239 

sion   of  doubt  in   his   stern   dogmatism ;  he  will  not 
recognize  any  of  the  difficulties  suggested  by  philoso- 
phy ;  he  cannot,  or  will  not,  perceive  the  weak  points 
of  his  own  system.     He  has  the  great  merit  that,  op- 
posed as  he  was  to  the  prevailing  Platonism,  through- 
out the  Sentences  the  ethical  principle  predominates ; 
his  excellence  is  perspicuity,  simplicity,  definiteness  of 
moral  purpose.     His  distinctions  are  endless,  subtile, 
idle ;  but  he  wrote  from  conflicting  authorities  to  rec- 
oncile writers  at  war  with   each   other,  at  war  with 
themselves.     Their  quarrels  had  been  wrought  to  in- 
tentional or  unintentional  antagonism  in  the  '^  Sic  et 
Non "  of  Ab^lard.     That   philosopher,  whether  Pyr- 
ifaonist  or  more  than  Pyrrhonist,  had  left  them  in  all 
the   confusion  of  strife ;   he  had   set  Fathers  against 
Fathers,   each  Father   against    himself,    the   Church 
against   the   Church,  tradition   against   tradition,   law 
against  law.      The  Lombard  announced  himself  and 
was  accepted  as  the  mediator,  the  final  arbiter  in  this 
endless  litigation ;   he  would  sternly  fix  the  positive, 
proscribe  the  negative  or  sceptical  view  in  all  these 
questions.     The  litigation  might  still  go  on,  but  within 
the  limits  which  he  had  rigidly  established  ;  he  had  de- 
termined those  ultimate  results  against  which  there  was 
no  appeal.     The  mode  of  proof  might  be  interminably 
contested  in  the  schools ;  the  conclusion  was  already 
irrefragably  fixed.     On  the  sacramental  system  Peter 
the  Lombard  is  loftily,  severely  hierarchical.     Yet  he 
is  moderate  on  the  power  of  the  keys :  he  holds  only  a 
declaratory  power  of  binding  and  loosing — of  showing 
how  the  souls  of  men  were  to  be'  bound  and  loosed.^ 

1  Non  aatem  hoc  saoerdotibas  concessit,  quibns  tamen  tribnit  potestatem 
lolvendi  et  ligandi,  t.  e.  ostendendi  homines  ligatos  vel  solutos,  quoted  by 


/ 

\ 


240  LATIN  CDBISTU^'ny.  Book  XIV. 

From  the  hard  and  arid  system  of  Peter  the  Lom- 
bard the  profound  devotion  of  the  Middle  Ages  took 
refuge  in  Mysticism.  But  it  is  an  error  to  suppose 
Mysticism  as  the  perpetual  antagonist  of  Scholasticism ; 
the  Mystics  were  often  severe  Liogicians ;  the  Scholas- 
tics had  all  the  passion  of  Mystics.  Nor  were  the 
Scholastics  always  Aristotelians  and  Nominalists,  or 
the  Mystics,  Realists  and  Platonists.  The  logic  was 
often  that  of  Aristotle,  the  philosophy  that  of  Plato. 
Hugo  and  Richard  de  St.  Victor  (the  Abbey  of  St. 
Victor  at  Paris)  were  the  great  Mystics  of  this  period. 
The  mysticism  of  Hugo  de  St.  Victor  withdrew  the 
contemplator  altogether  from  the  outward  to  the  inner 
world  —  from  God  in  the  works  of  nature  to  God  in 
his  workings  on  the  soul  of  man.  This  contemplation 
of  God,  the  consummate  perfection  of  man,  is  immedi* 
ate,  not  mediate.  Through  the  Angels  and  the  Celes- 
tial Hierarchy  of  the  Areopagite  it  aspires  to  one  God, 
not  in  his  Theophany,  but  in  his  inmost  essence.  All 
ideas  and  forms  of  things  are  latent  in  the  human  soul, 
as  in  God,  only  they  are  manifested  to  the  soul  by  its 
own  activity,  its  meditative  power.  Yet  St.  Victor  is 
not  exempt  from  the  grosser  phraseology  of  the  Mystic 
—  the  tasting  God,  and  other  degrading  images  from 
the  senses  of  men.  The  ethical  system  of  Hugo  do 
Hugo  de  St.  Victor  is  that  of  the  Church,  more  free 
St.  victor.      ^^^  j^f^y  ^YisLU  the  dry  and  barren  discipline 

of  Peter  Lombard:'  it  looks  to  the  end  and  object, 

Ritter,  p.  499.  Ritter's  account  of  the  Lombard  appears  to  me,  as  compared 
with  the  Book  of  Sentences,  so  just  and  sagacious,  that  I  have  adopted  im* 
plicitly  his  conclusions,  to  a  certain  extent  his  words. 

1  Contemplatio  est  ilia  rivacitas  intelligentife,  qu»  concta  palam  Patris 
iiiaiufe8t&  viaione  oompieheiidit  — >H.  In  Eedea.  i.  p.  55,  quoted  bj  Rit- 
t0r,p.  688. 


Chap.  UI.  RICHARD  DE  ST.  VICTOR.  Ml 

not  merely  to  the  punctilious  performance  of  Church 
works.  Richard  de  St.  Victor  was  at  once  mehird  at 
more  logical  and  more  devout,  raising  higher  ^^  ^'***"" 
at  once  the  unassisted  power  of  man,  yet  with  even 
more  supernatural  interf*erence  —  less  ecclesiastical, 
more  religious.^  Thus  the  silent,  solemn  cloister  was 
as  it  were  constantly  balancing  the  noisy  and  pugna- 
cious school.  The  system  of  the  St.  Victors  is  the 
contemplative  philosophy  of  deep-thinking  minds  in 
their  profound  seclusion,  not  of  intellectual  gladiator»: 
it  is  that  of  men  following  out  the  train  of  their  own 
thoughts,  not  perpetually  crossed  by  the  objections  of 
subtle  rival  disputants.  Its  end  is  not  victory,  but  the 
inward  satisfiiction  .of  the  soul.  It  is  not  so  much 
conscious  of  ecclesiastical  restraint,  it  is  rather  self- 
restrained  by  its  inborn  reverence;  it  has  no  doubt, 
therefore  no  fear ;  it  is  bold  from  the  inward  conscious- 
ness of  its  orthodoxy. 

John  of  Salisbury,  though  he  professed  to  be  of  the 
school  of  the  St.  Victors^  had  something  of  j^^^  ^ 
the  practical  English  character.  He  was  far  8»>tobary. 
less  of  a  Monk,  more  of  an  observant  man  of  the 
world.  The  Mystic  was  lost  in  the  high  churchman. 
He  was  the  right  hand  and  counsellor  of  Becket, 
though,  Kke  Becket,  he  says  hard  things  of  the  Pope 
and  of  Rome ;  he  was  the  inflexible  assertor  of  the 
rights  of  the  Church.  John  has  the  fullest  &ith  in  the 
theological  articles  of  the  Church,  with  some  academic 
scepticism  on  the  philosophic  questions.  John  was 
neither  of  the  cloister  nor  of  the  school :  he  has  some- 

1  Ritter  has  drawn  the  distinction  between  these  two  writers  with  great 
eUll  and  nicety. 

yoLn  VIII.  16 


242  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

thing  of  the  statesman,  even  something  of  the  natural 
philosopher. 

Scholastic  philosophy  has  no  great  name  during  the 
last  quarter  of  the  twelfth  to  the  middle  of  the  thir- 
teenth century.  But  during  this  barren  and  mute 
period  came  gradually  and  silently  stealing  in,  from  an 
unobserved  unsuspected  quarter,  new  views  of  knowl- 
edge, new  metaphysical  modes  of  thought,  which  went 
up  into  the  primal  principles  of  theology ;  dialectic 
processes,  if  not  new,  more  perfect.  Greek  books,  as 
yet  unknown,  are  now  in  the  hands  of  the  studious ; 
works  of  Aristotle,  either  entirely  lost  for  centuries,  or 
imperfectly  known  in  the  abstracts  of  Augustine,  of 
Boethius,  and  Martianus  Capella.  It  was  from  the 
Arabic  language,  from  the  godless  and  accursed  Mo- 
hammedans, that  Christendom  received  tliese  inauspi- 
cious gifts. 

This  Mohammedan,  or  Graeco-Mohammedan  philo»» 
ophy,  was  as  far  removed  from  the  old  stem  inflexible 
Unitarianism  of  the  Kor&n  as  the  Kor&n  from  the  Gos- 
pel. Philosophy  was  in  truth  more  implacably  oppug* 
nant,  a  more  flagrant  heresy  to  Islam  than  to  mediaeval 
Christianity.  Islam,  like  Christianity,  the  Latin  hie- 
rarchical Christianity,  had  its  Motakhelim,  its  higb 
churchmen  ;  Its  Sufis,  its  mystic  monks  ;  its  Maatizali, 
its  heretics  or  dissidents :  its  philosophers,  properly  so 
called,  its  Aristotelians.  But  the  philosophic  schools 
of  Islam  were  as  much  or  more  foreign  to  the  general 
Mohammedan  mind  than  the  scholastic  oligarchy  of 
Christendom  to  that  of  Western  Europe.  In  the  gen- 
eral estimation  they  were  half  or  more  than  half  heret- 
ical, the  intellectual  luxuries  of  splendid  Courts  and 


CttARltL  ARABIC  PHILOSOPHY.  243 

Caliphs,  who  were,  at  least,  no  longer  rigid  Islamists.^ 
It  was  not,  as  in  Europe,  the  philosophy  of  a  great 
hierarchy. 

Of  all  curious  chapters  in  the  history  of  the  human 
mind,  none  is  more  singular  than  the  growth,  j^^^^^^ 
progress,  and  influence  of  the  Arabo-Aristo-  P*>"o«>p»»y- 
telian  philosophy.^  Even  in  the  second  century  after 
the  Hegira,  more  fully  in  the  third,  this  science  found 
its  way  among  the  Mohammedans  of  Syria.  Aft;er 
having  made  its  circuit,  five  or  six  centuries  later  it 
came  out  again  in  Spain,  and  from  the  schools  of  Cor- 
dova entered  into  the  Universities  of  France  and  Italy. 
In  both  cases  it  was  under  the  same  escort,  that  of 
medicine,  that  it  subjugated  in  turn  Islam  and  Christi- 
anity. Physicians  were  its  teachers  in  Damascus  and 
Bagdad,  in  Paris  and  Auxerre. 

The  Arabians  in  their  own  country,  in  their  free 
wild  life,  breathing  the  desert  air,  ever  on  horseback, 
had  few  diseases  or  only  diseases  peculiar  to  their 
habits.  With  the  luxuries,  the  repose,  the  indolence, 
the  residence  in  great  cities,  the  richer  diet  of  civiliza- 
tion, they  could  not  avoid  the  maladies  of  civilization. 
They  were  obliged  to  call  in  native  science  to  their  aid. 
Ab  in  their  buildings,  their  coinage,  and  most  hand- 
icraft works,  they  employed  Greek  or  Syrian  art,  so 

1  Mahomet  is  made  to  prophesy  in  as  stem  language  as  the  fiercest 
Catholic.  Hon  ^glise  sera  divis^e  en  pins  de  soixantedix  sectes :  il  n*y  a 
qa^une  qni  sera  sauy^e,  Ics  autres  iront  k  I'enfer;  or  ce  qu'il  a  pr^dit,  est 
arrir^.  —  Schmolders,  p.  89. 

*  On  ne  pourra  parler  d'nne  philosophie  Arahe  dans  le  sens  strict  da  mot 
....  On  n*entend  dire  antre  chose  qne  la  Philosophie  Grecqne,  telle  que 
lea  Arabes  la  cultivaient  —  Schmolders,  Essai  snr  les  Ecoles  Philosophi- 
)aei  des  Arabes,  p.  41. 

Again, 

"  Grada  capta  ferma  Tktoram  oeplt.** 


244  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIY. 

medicino  was  introduced  and  cultivated  among  them 
by  Syrians,  Greeks,  and  Jews,  They  received  thoae 
useful  strangers  not  only  with  tolerant  respect,  but  with 
high  and  grateftil  honor.  The  strangers  brought  with 
them  not  only  their  medioat  treatises,  the  works  of 
Hfppocrates  and  Galen,  and  besides  these  the  Alexan- 
drian astronomy,  which  developed  itself  in  the  general 
Asiatic  mind  into  astrology  ;^  but  at  length  also  and 
by  degrees  the  whole  Greek  philosophy,  the  Neo-Pla- 
tonism  of  Alexandria  and  the  Aristotelian  dialectics  of 
Greece.  The  assertors  of  the  one  Book,  the  destroyers 
9S  they  are  said  to  have  been  of  all  books  but  that  on«ti 
became  authors  so  prolific,  not  in  poetry  alone,  their 
old  pride  and  delight,  but  in  the  infinite  variety  and 
^nonnous  mass  of  their  philosophic  treatises,  as  to  equal 
if  not  surpass  the  vast  and  almost  incalcvilable  volumes 
of  Scholastic  divinity .^ 

As  in  Syria  of  old,  so  now  in  France  and  other  parts 
of  Christendom,  Philosophy  stole  in  under  the  protec- 
tion of  medicine.  It  was  as  physicians  that  the  famoua 
Arabian  philosophers,  as  well  as  some  Jews,  acquired 
unsuspected  fame  and  authority.  There  is  not  a  pbn 
losopher  who  has  not  some  connection  with  medicine, 
nor  a  physician  who  has  not  some  connection  with  phjp- 

1  Diese  Aosicht  der  Dinge,  welche  das  Geschehen  anf  der  Erde  mit  den 
Bewegungen  des  Himmels  in  einen  physischen  Zasammenhang  bringt,  i»t 
ein  characteristischer  Zng,  welcher  darch  alle  Lehre  der  Arabischen  Aristo- 
telischer  hindurch  geht.  Wenn  auch  schon  vor  ihnen  Astrologische  Lehren 
auf  die  Philosophie  einen  Einfloss  geiibt  batten,  so  bildeten  doch  die  zuerat 
die  Astrolbgie  zu  einem  philosophischen  Systeuie  aus.  —  Ritter,  viii.  p.  161. 
The  Astrolog;)'  of  the  Middle  Ages  no  doubt  owes  much  to  and  is  a  sign  of 
the  prevalence  of  the  Arabic  philosophy. 

'  La  masse  des  pr^tendus  Philosophes  est  si  grande,  leurs  oavrages  Bont 
num^riqaement  si  prodigieux,  que  toute  la  Scholastique  est  bien  pauirre  en 
oomparaison  des  Arabes.  —  Schmolders.  HaA  this  learned  author  calculated 
or  weighed  the  volumea  of  the  SchoolineQ  ? 


ORAP.m.  ABISTOTELIAN  PHILOSOPHT.  S4S 

lo6opby.  The  translators  of  the  most  famous  philos^ 
ophers,  of  Averrhoes  and  Avicenna,  were  physicians  { 
metaphysics  only  followed  in  the  train  of  physiciil 
science.^ 

The  Graeco- Arabic  philosophy  worked  into  the  sy^ 
tem  of  the  schools  in  two  diflFerent  modes:  —  I.  The 
introduction  of  works  of  Aristotle,  either  unknown  or 
now  communicated  in  a  more  perfect  form.  II.  The 
Arabic  philosophy,  which  had  now  grown  to  its  height 
under  the  Abbasside  Caliphs  in  the  East,  Almanzolf^ 
Haroun  al  Raschid,  Motakem,^  and  under  the  Ommn 
ades  in  Spain.  The  Eastern  school,  afbet  Alghazil  and 
Fakhreddin  Rhazis,  had  culminated  in  Avicenna  th9 
Western  in  Averrhoes*  Schools  had  arisen  in  Cor- 
dova, Seville,  Toledo,  Grenada,  Xativa,  Valencia,  Muf* 
cia,  Almeria.  Averrhoes  had  an  endless  race  of  suc- 
cessors. 

Profound,  it  might  seem  almost  impenetrable  dark^ 
.  ness,  covered  the  slow,  silent  interpenetration  ArWoteito* 
rf  both  these  influences  into  the  Christian  ^^"^^^ 
schools.  How,  through  what  channels,  did  Aristotld 
rise  to  his  ascendency  ?  to  what  extent  were  the  School- 
men acquainted  with  the  works  of  the  Arabian  philod^ 
Ophers  ?  The  first  at  least  of  these  questions  has  found 
a  satisfitctory  solution.^    During  all  the  earlier  periodf 

i  Bitter,  p.  676. 

s  The  Nestorian  Charches  in  Persia  a&d  Khorasan  w6te  iostmment&l  tb 
the  progress  of  philosophizing  Islamism. 

s  This  question  has  been,  if  I  may  so  saj,  judicially  detefmined  by  M. 
Jourdain,  necherches  Critiques  sur  TAge  et  TOrigine  des  TradactiohA  La- 
tines  d'Aristote,  new  edition,  revised  by  his  son,  Paris,  1^43.  These  ar6  thS 
general  conclusions  of  M.  Jourdain :  I.  That  the  only  works  of  Aristotlil 
known  in  the  West  until  the  twelfth  century  were  the  Treatises  on  Logie, 
which  compose  the  Organon.  (The  Analytics,  Topics,  and  Sophistic  Refu- 
tations are  more  rarely  cited.)    II.  That  from  the  date  of  the  following 


246  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIY. 

from  Anselm  and  Ab^lard  to  the  time  of  Albert  the 
Great,  from  the  eleventh  to  the  thirteenth  century, 
the  name  of  Aristotle  was  great  and  authoritative  in 
the  West,  but  it  was  only  as  the  teacher  of  logic,  as  the 
master  of  Dialectics.  Even  this  logic,  which  may  be 
traced  in  the  darkest  times,  was  chiefly  known  in  a 
secondary  form,  through  Augustine,  Boethius^  and  the 
Isagoge  of  Porphyry ;  at  the  utmost,  the  Treatises 
which  form  the  Organon,  and  not  the  whole  of  these, 
were  known  in  the  Church.  It  was  as  dangerously 
proficient  in  the  Aristotelian  logic,  as  daring  to  sub- 
mit theology  to  the  rules  of  Dialectics,  that  Abdlard 
excited  the  jealous  apprehensions  of  St.  Bernard.' 
Throughout  the  intermediate  period,  to  Gilbert  de  la 
Poree,  to  the  St.  Victors,  to  John  of  Salisbury,  to 
Alain  de  Lille,  to  Adelard  of  Bath,  Aristotle  was  the 
logician  and  no  more.^  Of  his  Morals,  his  Metaphysics, 
his  Physics,  his  Natural  History,  there  is  no  knowl- 
edge whatever.  His  fame  as  a  great,  universal  phiios* 
opher  hardly  lived,  or  lived  only  in  obscure  and  doubt- 
ful tradition. 

On  a  sudden,  at  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury, there  is  a  cry  of  terror  from  the  Church,  in  the 
centre  of  the  most  profound  theological  learning  of  the 

century,  the  other  parts  of  his  philosophj  were  translated  into  Latin.  IIL 
That  of  those  Translations  some  were  from  a  Greek,  some  from  an  Arabic 
text  M.  Jourdain  fairly  examines  and  states  the  names  of  former  writers 
on  the  subject,  —  Brucker,  Tiedemann,  Buhle,  Tenneman,  Heeren. 

^  On  the  books  translated  by  Boethlus  and  the  earlier  Translations,  Jonr- 
dain,  pp.  30,  62,  &c. 

'  See  vol.  iv.  B.  viii.  c.  5.  Compnre  Jourdain,  p.  34.  Ab^lard  confesses 
his  ignorance  of  the  Physics  and  Metaphysics.  Qusb  quidem  open  ipsios 
nuUus  adhuc  translata  lingus  Latinte  aptavit:  ideoque  minus  natura  eorum 
nobis  est  cognita.  —  Abelard.  Oper.  loed.  p.  200. 

*  The  name  of  Aristotle  is  not  to  be  found  in  Peter  the  Lombard.  —  Jour- 
dain, 28. 


QbAP.  m.        ABISTOTLS  COin>£MN£D  AT  PABIS.  247 

Church,  the  University  of  Paris,  and  the  cry  is  the  ir- 
refragable witness  to  the  influence  of  what  was  vaguely 
denounced  as  the  philosophy  of  Aristotle.  It  is  not 
now  presumptuous  Dialectics,  which  would  submit  the- 
ological truth  to  logi(.'al  system,  but  philosophical  the- 
ories, directly  opposed  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Church  ; 
•the  clamor  is  loud  against  certain  fatal  books  ^  but 
newly  brought  into  the  schools.*  Simon  of  Toumay,* 
accused  of  utter  infidelity,  may  have  employed  the 
perilous  weapons  of  Dialectics  to  perplex  his  hearers 
and  confiite  his  adversaries  ;  but  he  was  also  arraigned 
as  having  been  led  into  his  presumptuous  tenets  by  the 
study  of  the  Physics  and  Metaphysics  of  Aristotle. 
The  heresies  of  Amaury  de  Bene,  and  of  David  of  Di- 
nant,  were  traced  by  the  theologians  of  Paris  to  the 
same  fertile  source  of  evil.  An  exhumation  of  the  re- 
mains of  Amaury  de  Bene,  who,  though  suspected,  had 
been  buried  in  consecrated  ground,  was  followed  by  a 
condemnation  of  his  followers,  the  teachers  of  these 
dreaded  opinions.  Some  were  degraded  and  made  over 
to  the  secular  arm  (to  the  State),  some  to  perpetual 

1  These  books  are  said  by  the  continuator  of  Rigord,  William  the  Bret- 
on, to  have  contained  the  Metaphysics  of  Aristotle ;  and  in  two  other  writ- 
ers of  the  period,  in  Cssar  of  Heisterbach,  and  Hugh  the  Continuator  of 
the  Chronicle  of  Auxerre,  to  have  been  the  Physics.  The  Decree  for  burn- 
ing the  books  (see  below)  determines  the  point. 

s  Crevier,  t.  i.  p.  8dS,  or  rather  Du  Boulay,  asserted  that  these  books  had 
been  brought  from  Constantinople  about  1167,  and  translated  into  Latin. 
M.  Jourdain,  Note,  p.  46,  has  shown  the  inaccuracy  of  this  statement. 

s  Simon  of  Toumay  delivered  with  wonderful  applause  a  Lecture,  in 
which  be  explained  or  proved  all  the  great  Mysteries  of  religion  by  the 
Aristotelic  process.  *'Stay,"  he  closed  his  Lecture;  "to-morrow  I  will 
utterly  confute  all  that  I  have  proved  to-day  by  stronger  arguments.**  He 
was  struck  on  that  morrow  with  apoplexy,  and  lost  his  speech.  —  Crevier,  i. 
p.  309.  It  should  seem  that  Simon  de  Toumay  was  rather  an  expert  dia- 
lectician than  an  inquiring  philosopher. 


248  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

imprisonment.  There  was  a  solemn  prohibition  against 
the  reading  and  copying  of  these  books  ;  all  the  books 
which  could  be  seized  were  burned.^  Six  years  after, 
Robert  de  Cour^on,  the  Papal  Legate,  interdicted  the 
reading  of  the  Physics  and  Metaphysics  of  Aristotle  in 
the  schools  of  Paris.*  A  milder  decree  of  Gregory  IX. 
ordered  that  they  should  not  be  used  till  they  had  been< 
corrected  by  the  theologians  of  the  Church  ;  yet  two 
years  before  this  Gregory  had  fulminated  a  violent  Bull 
against  the  presumption  of  those  who  taught  the  Chris- 
tian doctrine  rather  according  to  the  rules  of  Aristotle 
than  the  traditions  of  the  Fathers,^  against  the  pro&ne 
usage  of  mingling  up  philosophy  with  Divine  revela* 
tion.  But  the  secret  of  all  this  terror  and  perplexity 
of  the  Church  was  not  that  the  pure  and  more  rational 
philosophy  of  Aristotle  was  revealed  in  the  schools ; 
the  evil  and  the  danger  more  clearly  denounced  were 
in  the  Arabian  Comment,  which,  inseparable  from  the 
Arabo-Latin  translation,  had  formed  a  system  fimitftd 
of  abuse  and  error.^ 


1  All  kinds  of  incongruoas  chaTges  were  heaped  on  the  memory  of  Am- 
aniy  de  Bene :  he  was  an  Albigensian,  believed  in  the  Eternal  Qospel. 

s  See  the  Decree  of  the  Archbishop  of  Sens  and  the  Council,  unknown  to 
Lannoi  and  earlier  authors,  Martene,  Nov.  Thes.  Anec.  iv.  1S6.  Corpoa 
ICagistri  Amaarici  extrahatur  a  cemeterio  et  projiciatur  in  terram  non  bene- 
dictam  et  idem  excommunicetur  per  omnes  ecdesias  totios  prorinciflB.  A 
list  of  names  follows,  isti  degradentur,  penitus  ssBculari  curiao  reliquendi ; 
another  list,  perpetuo  careen  mancipandi.  The  Books  of  David  de  Dinant 
are  to  be  burned,  nee  libri  Aristotelis  de  NahtraU  Philosophia,  nee  Com' 
menta  legantur  Parisiis  publice  vel  secreto. 

'  Non  legantur  libri  Aristotelis  de  Metaphysics  et  Natural!  PhiloeophiS 
nee  summa  de  eisdem,  aut  de  doctrin&  Mag.  David  de  Dinant,  ant  Almerid 
heretici,  aut  Mauritii  Hi»pan.  —  Stat.  Univ.  Par. 

*  On  voit  dans  ces  trois  condamnations  nne  diminution  successive  da 
s<$r^rit^.  La  premiere  est  la  plus  rigoureufse,  les  autres  s'en  vout  s'adou- 
dssant    Crevier  blames  this  mildness,  p.  312. 


Ohap.  in.  TRANSLATIONS  OF  ARISTOTLE.  249 

The  heresy  of  Amaury  de  Bene,  and  that  of  David 
de  Dinant,  was  Pantheism.^  The  Creator  and  the 
Creation  were  but  one ;  all  flowed  from  God,  all  was 
to  be  reabsorbed  in  God  —  a  doctrine  not  less  irrecon- 
cilable with  genuine  Aristotelism  tlian  with  the  doc- 
trine of  the  Church.2  But  the  greater  Schoolmen  of 
the  next  period  aspired,  with  what  success  it  may  be 
doubted,  to  the  nobler  triumph  of  subjugating  Aristo- 
telism to  the  science  of  Theology,  not  the  logical  science 
only,  but  the  whole  range  of  the  Stagirite's  philosophy.' 
It  was  to  be  an  obsequious  and  humble,  though  honored 
ally,  not  a  daring  rival ;  they  would  set  free,  yet  at  the 
same  time  bind  its  stubborn  spirit  in  their  firm  grasp, 
to  more  than  amity,  to  perfect  harmony. 

Albert  the  Great,  in  his  unbounded  range  of  knowl- 
edge, comprehends  the  whole  metaphysical,  moral, 
physical,  as  well  as  logical  system  of  Aristotle.^  He 
had  read  all,  or,  with  but  few  unimportant  exceptions, 
his  whole  works.  He  had  read  them  in  Latin,  some 
translated  directly  from  the  Greek,  some  from  the 
Arabic ;  some  few  had  been  translated  from  the  Arabic 
into  Hebrew,  and  from  the  Hebrew  into  the  Latin. 
Those  which  came  through  the  Arabic  retain  distinct 
and  undeniable  marks  of  their  transmission  —  Arabic 
words,  especially  words  untranslated,  Arabic  idioms, 
and  undeniable  vestiges  of  the  Arabic  vowel  system.* 

1  Roger  Bacon  noiu  apprend  que  ron  s^opposa  long  temps  ^  Paris  a  la 
philosophie  naturelle  et  k  la  m^taphysique  d'Aristote  eayxneespar  Avicenni 
€t  Averroes;  ceux  qui  8*en  servaient  furent  excommuni^s.  —  P.  194.  Se« 
the  following  quotation  from  Roger  Bacon,  and  the  whole  passage. 

'  See  the  sources  of  their  doctrines,  Jourdain,  p.  196. 

*  See  in  Jourdain  the  works  cited  by  William  Bishop  of  Paris,  who  died 
1848.  —  P.  31. 

^  Works  q^pted  by  Albert  the  Great  also,  p.  82. 

*  Jamais  une  version  d^riv^e  d'un  texte  Arabe  ne  pr^senta,  fid^lemcnt 


250  LATIN  CHRISTIANrrY.  Boom:  XIV. 

These  versions  from  the  Arabic  came :  I.  From  Spain 
and  from  Spanish  scholars  in  the  Soath  of  France,  at 
Marseilles,  Montpellier,  Toulouse.  II.  From  Sicily, 
where  Frederic  II.  had  fostered  Arabic  learning,  and 
had  encouraged  translations  from  that  toncrue.  Under 
his  auspices  the  femous  Michael  Scott  had  translated, 
at  least,  the  books  of  Natural  History.^  Besides  these 
some  had  come  through  the  Hebrew  ;  the  great  age  of 
Jewish  philosophy,  that  of  Aben-Esi*a,  Maimonides, 
and  Kimchi,  had  been  conteniporaneoui  with  tlie  later 
Spanish  school  of  Arabic  philosophy.  There  had  been 
an  intercommunion  or  rivalry  in  the  cultivation  of  the 
whole  range  of  philosophy.  The  translations  from  the 
Greek  were  as  yet  few,  imperfect,  inaccurate.^  The 
greater  Thomas  Aquinas  has  the  merit  of  having  en- 
couraged and  obtained  a  complete  translation  of  the 
works  of  Aristotle  directlv  from  tlie  Greek.^  The 
cultivation  of  Greek  had  never  entirely  ceased  in  the 
West.     After   Scotus   Erigena   and  Adelard  of  Bath 


orthographic,  an  mot  qui  aiura  passC  par  rintermediaire  de  TArabe,  langOA 
oil  la  prononciation  n'est  regime  que  par  lea  points  diacritiqaes  qui  son! 
rarement  bien  places.  Souvent  aussi  les  traducteurs  ne  connaissant  pas  la 
valear  d'un  ternie  l^ont  laisse  en  Arabe.  —  Jourdain,  p.  19.  See  the  whole 
passage,  and  also  p.  37. 

1  On  the  translation  by  M.  Scott,  from  the  Arabic,  not  through  the  He- 
brew, Jourdain,  p.  124,  et  seq.^  and  Herman  Alemannus,  with  whom  the 
older  Herman  Contractus  (the  Lame)  has  been  confounded.  —  Jourdain,  p. 
93. 

3  Among  the  earliest  Translations  from  the  Greek  was  the  Nicomacheaa 
Ethics,  by  no  less  a  man  than  Robert  Grostdte,  Bishop  of  Lincoln.  M. 
Jourdain  satisfactorily  proves  this  remarkable  fact  —  P.  59,  tt  uq, 

'  Scripsit  etiam  super  philosophiam  naturalem  et  moralem  et  super  meta* 
physicam,  quorum  librorum  procuravit  ut  tieret  nova  translatio  quae*  sen- 
tentiie  Aristotelis  contineret  clarius  veritatem.  —  Tocco.  ViU  C.  Th.  Aquin. 
Act.  SS.  March.  On  sait  que  ce  fut  par  les  conseils  et  les  soins  de  S. 
Thomas  d' Aquin  que  fut  faite  une  traduction  Latine  d' Ari8t(>te.  —  Tenne- 
man,  Manuel,  French  Translation. 


Chap.  HI.  TRANSLATIONS  OF  ARISTOTLE.  251 

trayelled  in  the  East,  these  casual  and  interrupted 
communications  grew  into  more  regular  and  constant 
intercourse.  But  now  the  Latin  conquest  of  Constan- 
tinople had  made  Eastern  and  Western  Christendom 
one.  If  the  conquering  army,  the  sovereign  and  the 
territorial  lords,  did  not  condescend  to  acquire  much 
of  the  language  of  their  subjects,  the  conquering 
Church  was  more  wise  and  enterprising.  Innocent 
III.  proposed  to  the  University  of  Paris  to  send  a 
colony  of  scholars  to  learn  the  tongue  of  the  people, 
among  whom  the  Latin  clergy  was  to  administer  the 
rites  of  the  ,Church ;  ^  a  school  for  youtlis  from  Con- 
stantinople was  to  be  opened  at  Paris.^  No  doubt 
many  Byzantine  exiles,  men  of  peace  and  learning, 
found  their  way  to  the  West.  The  Mendicant  Orders, 
spreading  over  the  world,  made  it  their  duty  and  their 
boast  to  acquire  foreign  tongues;  and  now  especially 
the  Dominicans  aspired  to  the  highest  places  in  learn- 
ing and  knowledge.  Thus  the  complete  and  genuine 
Aristotle  was  divulged.  Towards  the  end  of  the 
,  thirteenth  century  the  philosophers  of  Greece  and 
Rome  were  as  well  known,  as  in  our  own  days ;  the 
schools  rung  with  their  names,^  with  the  explanation 
of  their  writings.  A  scholastic  Doctor  was  not  thought 
worthy  of  his  name  who  had  not  publicly  commented 
on  their  writings.*  It  was  not  alone  as  a  servile  trans- 
lator of  the  Greek,  as  the  inert  and  uninven-  ^^j^^^n 
tive  disciple  of  the  Western  philosophy,  which  p*'"**®?'*/- 

1  Epistoln  Innocent  m.    Brequigny  et  Da  Theil,  ii.  712,  723. 

*  Sulcus,  iii.  iv. 

*  The  earlier  Western  students,  who  travelled  before  the  twelfth  century, 
OoDstantine  the  Monk,  the  famous  Gerbert,  Adelard  of  Bath,  sought  rathtr 
mathematical  or  astronomical  science. 

^  Jourdain,  p.  2. 


252  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

it  was  to  restore  to  its  forgotten  honors  in  the  West, 
that  Arabian  Philosophy  aspired,  if  not  to  rule,  to  in- 
fluence the  mind  of  Christendom.^  The  four  great 
Arabic  authors,  Avicenna,  Aven  Pace,  Avicembron, 
Averrhoes,  with  David  the  Jew,  and  others  of  less 
fame,^  introduced,  chiefly  perhaps  through  the  Jews 
of  Andalusia,  Marseilles,  and  Montpellier  (those  Drag- 
omans of  Mediaeval  Science),  are  not  only  known  to 
the  later  Schoolmen  ;  but  even  the  suspicion,  the  jeal- 
ousy, the  awe,  has  fallen  away.  They  are  treated  with 
courtesy  and  respect,  allowed  fair  hearing  ;  that  which 
at  the  beginning  of  the  century  appeared  so  perilous, 
so  formidable,  is  no  longer  the  forbidden  lore  of  heretics, 
of  unbelievers,  of  atheists.  The  Arabians  are  enter- 
tained as  grave  philosophers;  their  theories  are  ex- 
amined, their  arguments  discussed.  Their  authority, 
as  representatives  of  a  lofty  and  commanding  philoso- 
phy, which  has  a  right  to  respectful  attention,  is  fully 
acknowledged.®  Avicenna  and  Averrhoes  are  placed 
by  Dante  among  the  philosophers  who  wanted  only 
baptism  to  be  saved ;  and  Dante  no  doubt  learned  his 
respect  for  their  names  from  his  master,  St.  Thomas.* 
The  extent  to  which  Latin  Christianity,  in  its  high- 

1  See  Jourdain  on  the  Translations  from  the  Arabic,  by  Dominic  and 
John  the  Jew,  in  the  twelfth  centary. 

s  Ajoutons  que  les  philosophes  Arabes,  Avicenne,  Averroes,  Aren  Pace, 
etc.,  oubli^a  maintenant,  jouissaient  alors  d^une  grande  reputation. «— /MdL 

<  M.  Schmulders  is  of  opinion  that  the  Schoolmen  were  much  more 
indebted  to  the  Grseco-Arabic  philosophy  than  is  generally  supposed. 
L'influence  exerc^e  par  eux  sur  le  Scholastique  est  beaucoup  plus  grande 
qu'on  ne  la  suppose  ordinaircment.  Non  seulement  les  Scholastiques  sem- 
blent  en  con%'enir  eux-memes  a  cause  de  leurs  nombreuses  citations,  mais  il 
n*eflt  pas  difficile  de  prouver  quMls  sont  redevables  aux  Arabes  d'une  fonlc 
d*id^et«,  qu'on  leur  a  jusqa*k  present  attributes.  —  P.  104. 

*  Inferno,  iv.  This  shows  at  once  their  fame,  and  that  Arabic  philoM>- 
phers  were  not  popularly  rejected  as  impious  and  godless. 


Chap,  III.  THE  SCHOOLMEN.  g58 

est  schoIaBticism,  admitted,  either  avowedly  or  tacitly, 
consciously  or  imperceptibly,  the  influence  of  the  phi- 
losophy of  Bagdad  or  Cordova,  how  fer  reached  this 
ftision  of  refined  Islamism  and  Christianity,  our  His- 
tory wants  space,  the  Historian  knowledge  of  the 
yet  unfathomed  depths  of  Arabian  learning,  to  deter- 
mine.^ 

Now  came  the  great  age  of  the  Schoolmen.  Latin 
Christianity  raised  up  those  vast  monuments  armt  9m 
of  Theology  which  amaze  and  appall  the  mind  ttdsio. 
with  the  enormous  accumulation  of  intellectual  indus^ 
try,  ingenuity,  and  toil ;  ^  but  of  which  the  sole  result 
to  posterity  is  this  barren  amazement.  The  tomes  of 
Scholastic  Divinity  may  be  compared  with  the  pyra- 
noids  of  Elgypt,  which  stand  in  that  rude  majesty,  which 
is  commanding  from  the  display  of  imviense  human 
{lOweF)  yet  oppressive  from  the  sense  of  the  waste  of 
that  power  for  no  discoverable  use.  Whoever  pene* 
trates  within,  finds  himself  bewildered  and  lost  in  a 
l|J>yrinth  of  small,  dark,  intricate  passages  and  cham- 
Ws,  devoid  of  grandeur,  devoid  of  solemnity :  he  may 
wander  without  end,  and  find  nothing  I     It  was  not 

1 1  almost  fresume,  as  far  110  my  own  reading  extends,  to  doubt  whether 
fliere  are'sufficient  grounds  as  jet  for  deciding  this  question.  It  requires  a 
profeund  knowledge  of  Oriental  and  of  Mediaeval  loro  in  one  pereon.  M. 
Skchmolden  possesses  the  first,  M.  Ritter  perhaps  a  large  proportion  of  botU. 
M.  Haurean,  the  great  Master  of  Scholasticism,  rather*  declines,  Bi  least 
does  not  fully  enter  into  the  discussion. 

3  The  study  of  Arabic,  which  had  been  fostered  by  Fi^derick  II.,  carried 
to  high  perfection  by  Michael  Scott  and  others,  was  not  discouraj^ed  in  the 
Universities.  Honorius  IV.  proposed  an  endowment  for  this  study  in  the 
University  of  Paria  The  ostensible  object  was  the  education  of  Mi^siona- 
nes  to  propagate  the  Grospel  among  the  Islamites.  The  fbnndation  did  not 
take  place  till  the  Council  of  Vienne.  —  Crevier,  ii.  1 12.  At  an  early  pe- 
liod,  perhaps,  it  might  rather  have  promoted  the  invasion  of  Christianity 
by  the  Arabic  philosophy. 


264  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

indeed  the  enforced  labor  of  a  slave  population :  it 
was  rather  voluntary  slavery,  submitting  in  its  intel- 
lectual ambition  and  its  religious  patience  to  monastic 
discipline :  it  was  the  work  of  a  small  intellectual  oli- 
garchy, monks,  of  necessity,  in  mind  and  habits ;  for  it 
imperiously  required  absolute  seclusion  either  in  the 
monastery  or  in  the  University,  a  long  life  under 
monastic  rule.  No  Schoolman  could  be  a  great  man 
but  as  a  Schoolman.  William  of  Ockham  alone  was 
a  powerful  demagogue  —  scholastic  even  in  his  political 
writings,  but  still  a  demagogue.  It  is  singular  to  see 
every  kingdom  in  Latin  Christendom,  every  Order  in 
the  social  State,  furnishing  the  great  men,  not  merely 
to  the  successive  lines  of  Doctora,  who  assumed  the 
splendid  titles  of  the  Angelical,  the  Seraphic,  the  Ir* 
refragable,  the  most  Profound,  the  most  Subtile,  the 
Invincible,  even  the  Perspicuous,^  but  to  what  may  be 
called  the  supreme  Pentarchy  of  Scholasticism.  Italy 
FiTeGxwt  ^^^  Thomas  of  Aquino  and  Bonaventnra; 
Schoolmen.  Germany  Albert  the  Great ;  the  British  Islea 
(they  boasted  also  of  Alexander  Hales  and  Bradwar* 
dine)  Duns  Scotus  and  William  of  Ockham ;  France 
alone  must  content  herself  with  names  somewhat  in- 
ferior (she  had  already  given  Ab^lard,  Gilbert  de  la 
Por^e,  Amanri  de  Bene,  and  other  famous  or  suspected 
names),  now  William  of  Auvergne,  at  a  later  time 
Durandus.  Albert  and  Aquinas  were  of  noble  Houses; 
the  Counts  of  BoUstadt  and  Aquino  ;  Bonaventuia  of 
good  parentage  at  Fidenza ;  of  Scotus  the  birth  was  so 
obscure  as  to  be  untraceable ;  Ockham  was  of  humble 
parents  in  the  village  of  that  name  in  Surrey.     But 

1  Aquinas,  Bonaventura,  Alexander  Hales,  ^gidiiis  de  Colonna,  Ockham, 
Walter  Burley. 


Chap.  III.  THE  SCHOOLMEN.  255 

France  may  boast  that  tlie  University  of  Paris  was 
tlie  great  scene  of  their  studies,  their  labors,  their  in- 
struction :  the  University  of  Paris  was  the  acknowl- 
edged awarder  of  tlie  fame  and  authority  obtained  by 
the  highest  Schoolmen.  It  is  no  less  remarkable  that 
the  new  Mendicant  Orders  sent  forth  these  five  Patri- 
archs, in  dignity,  of  the  science.  Albert  and  Aquinas 
were  Dominicans,  Bonaventura,  Duns  Scotus,  Ockham, 
Franciscans.  It  might  have  been  supposed  that  the 
popularizing  of  religious  teaching,  which  was  the  ex- 
press and  avowed  object  of  the  Friar  Preachers  and 
of  the  Minorites,  would  have  left  the  higher  places  of 
abstruse  and  learned  Theology  to  the  older  Orders,  or 
to  the  more  dignified  Secular  Ecclesiastics.  Content 
with  being  the  vigorous  antagonists  of  her-  a„  ^^n^. 
esy  in  all  quarters,  they  would  not  aspire  also  '*°**' 
to  become  the  aristocracy  of  theologic  erudition.  But 
Ae  dominant  religious  impulse  of  the  times  could  not 
but  seize  on  all  the  fervent  and  powerfiil  minds  which 
sought  satisfaction  for  their  devout  yearnings.  No  one 
who  had  strong  reh'gious  ambition  could  be  anything 
but  a  Dominican  or  a  Franciscan  ;  to  be  less  was  to  be 
below  the  highest  standard.  Hence  on  one  hand  the 
Orders  aspired  to  rule  the  Universities,  contested  the 
supremacy  with  all  the  great  established  authorities  in 
the  schools ;  and  having  already  drawn  into  their  vor- 
tex almost  all  who  united  powerful  abilities  with  a 
devotional  temperament,  never  wanted  men  who  could 
enter  into  this  dreary  but  highly  rewarding  service, — 
men  who  could  rule  the  Schools,  as  others  of  their 
brethren  had  begun  to  rule  the  Councils  and  the 
minds  of  Kings.  It  may  be  strange  to  contrast  the 
popular  simple  preaching,  for  such   must   have   been 


256  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XI¥. 

that  of  St.  Dommic  and  St.  Francis,  such  that  of  th^ 
followers,  in  ordv.*r  to  contend  with  success  against  the 
plain  and  austere  Sermons  of  the  heretics,  wi^h  the 
Sum  of  Theology  of  Aquinas,  which  of  itself  (and  \i 
is  but  one  volume  in  the  works  of  Thomas)  would,  as 
it  might  seem,  occupy  a  whole  life  of  the  most  secluded 
study  to  write,  almost  to  read.  The  unlearned,  unrea- 
soning, only  profoundly,  passionately  loving  and  dream- 
ing St.  Francis,  is  still  more  oppugnant  to  the  intensely 
subtile  and  dry  Duns  Scotus,  at  one  time  carried  by  his 
severe  looric  into  Pela^ianism ;  or  to  William  of  Ock- 
ham,  perhaps  the  hardest  and  severest  intellectualist 
of  all ;  a  political  fanatic,  not  like  his  visionary  breth- 
ren, who  brooded  over  the  Apocalypse  and  their  own 
prophets,  but  for  the  Imperial  against  the  Papal  Sov- 
ereignty. 

As  then  in  these  five  men  culminates  the  age  of 
genuine  Scholasticism,  the  rest  may  be  lefl  to  be  desig- 
nated  and  described  to  posterity  by  the  names  assigned 
to  them  by  their  own  wondering  disciples. 

We  would  change,  according  to  our  notion,  the  titles 
which  discriminated  this  distinguished  pentarchy.  Al* 
bert  the  Great  would  be  the  Philosopher,  Aquinas  the 
Theologian,  Bonaventura  the  Mystic,  Duns  Scotuft  the 
Dialectician,  Ockham  the  Politician.  It  may  be  said 
of  Scholasticism,  as  a  whole,  that  whoever  takes  delight 
in  what  may  be  called  gymnastic  exercises  of  the  rea- 
son or  the  reasoning  powers,  efforts  which  never  liad, 
and  hardly  cared  to  have,  any  bearing  on  the  life,  or 
even  on  the  sentiments  and  opinions  of  mankind,  may 
study  these  works,  the  crowning  effort  of  Latin,  of 
Sacerdotal,  and  Monastic  Christianity,  and  may  ac- 
quire something  like  respect  for  these  forgotten  athletes 


Chap.  m.  ALBERT  THE  GREAT.  257 

in  the  intellectual  games  of  antiquity.  They  are  not 
of  so  much  moment  in  the  history  of  religion,  for  their 
theology  was  long  before  rooted  in  the  veneration  and 
awe  of  Christendom ;  nor  in  that  of  philosophy,  for  ex- 
cept what  may  be  called  mythological  subtilties,  ques- 
tions relating  to  the  world  of  angels  and  spirits,  of 
which,  according  to  them,  we  might  suppose  the  reve- 
lation to  man  as  full  and  perfect,  as  that  of  God  or  of 
the  Redeemer,  there  is  hardly  a  question  which  has  not 
been  examined  in  other  language  and  in  less  dry  and 
syllogistic  foim.  There  is  no  acute  observation  on  the 
workings  of  the  human  mind,  no  bringing  to  bear  ex- 
traordinary facts  on  the  mental,  or  mingled  mental  and 
corporeal,  constitution  of  our  being.  With  all  their 
researches  into  the  unfathomable  they  have  fathomed 
nothing :  with  all  their  vast  logical  apparatus  they  have 
proved  nothing  to  the  satisfaction  of  the  inquisitive 
mind.  Not  only  have  they  not  solved  any  of  the  in- 
soluble problems  of  our  mental  being,  our  primary 
conceptions,  our  relations  to  God,  to  the  Infinite,  nei- 
ther have  they  (a  more  possible  task)  shown  them  to 
be  insoluble.^ 

Albert  the  Great  was  bom  at  Lauingen  in  Swabia, 
of  the  ancient  house  of  the  Counts  of  Boll-  Albert  the 
stadt.  He  studied  at  Paris  and  in  Padua,  a.d.  ii88. 
In  Padua,  Jordan  the  Saxon,  the  head  of  the  Domin- 
icans, laid  on  him  the  spell  of  his  own  master-mind 
and  that  of  his  Order ;  he  became  a  Dominican.  He 
returned  to  Cologne,  and  taught  in  the  schools  1211. 

1  n  est  done  bien  difficile  aux  philosophes  d'avouer  que  la  philosophie 
consiste  platot  k  reconnaltre  la  limite  naturelle  de  rintelligence  hamalne 
qn*k  faire  de  pu^rils  efforts  pour  reculer  cette  limite.  —  Haareau,  ii.  p.  45, 
quoting  Locke,  whose  whole,  wise,  bat  strangely  misrepresented  work  is  a 
comment  on  that  great  axiom. 
VOL.  vin.  17 


258  LATIK  CUK18T1ANITT.  Book  XIT. 

of  that  city.  In  1228  he  was  called  to  fill  the  chair 
of  his  Order  in  the  Jacobin  convent  at  Paris.  There, 
though  his  text-book  was  the  rigid,  stone-cold  Sentences 
of  Peter  the  Lombard,  his  bold  originality,  the  conft* 
dence  with  which  he  rushed  on  ground  yet  untrodden, 
at  once  threw  back  all  his  competitors  into  obscurity, 
and  seemed  to  summon  reason,  it  might  be  to  the  aid, 
it  might  be  as  a  perilous  rival  to  religion.  This,  by  his 
admirers,  was  held  as  hardly  less  than  divine  inspira- 
tion, but  provoked  his  adversaries  and  his  enemies. 
**  God,"  it  was  said,  **  had  never  divulged  so  many 
of  his  secrets  to  one  of  his  creatures."  Others  mur- 
mured, '^  He  must  be  possessed  by  an  evil  spirit : " 
already  the  fame,  the  suspicion  of  a  magician  had 
b^un  to  gather  round  his  name.  After  three  years 
of  glory,  perhaps  of  some  danger,  in  Paris,  he  settled 
among  his  Dominican  brethren  at  Cologne.  At  Co- 
logne he  was  visited  by  the  Emperor  William  of 
Holland,  who  bowed  down  in  wonder  before  the  exr- 
traordinaiy  man.  As  Provincial  of  Germany,  com- 
missioned by  the  Diet  of  Worms,  he  visited  all  the 
monasteries  of  his  jurisdiction,  He  severely  reproved 
the  Monks,  almost  universally  sunk  in  ignorance  and 
idleness ;  he  rescued  many  precious  manuscripts  which 
in  their  ignorance  they  had  left  buried  in  dust,  or  in 
their  fimaticism  cast  aside  as  profane.  He  was  sum- 
iJOQ  moned  to  Rome,  and  named  Grand  Master 

*^*"  of  the  Palace — the  great  dignity  usually  held 

by  his  Order  —  by  Pope  Alexander  IV.  He  laid 
down  his  dignity,  and  retired  to  his  school  at  Cologne. 
He  was  compelled  to  accept  the  Bishopric  of  Ratisbon. 
After  three  years  of  able  administration  he  resigned  to 
PM inlaw.  Urban   IV.   the   unwelcome  greatness,  and 


CBAP.m.  THE  mnVESSAL  DOCTOB.  269 

again  retired  to  his  seclusion,  his  studies,  and  public 
instruction  at  Cologne.  Such  was  the  public  life,  such 
the  honors  paid  to  the  most  illustrious  of  the  School- 
men.^ 

Albert  the  Great  at  once  awed  bj  his  immense  eru- 
dition and  appalled  his  age.  His  name,  the  Universal 
Doctor,  was  the  homage  to  his  all-embracing  knowl- 
edge. He  quotes,  as  equally  familiar,  Latin,  Greek, 
Arabic,  Jewish  philosophers.^  He  was  the  first  School- 
man who  lectured  on  Aristotle  himself,  on  Aristode 
from  Graeco-Latin  or  Arabo-Latin  copies.  The  whole 
range  of  the  Stagirite's  physical  and  metaphysical  phi- 
losophy was  within  the  scope  of  Albert's  teaching.^  In 
later  days  he  was  called  the  Ape  of  Aristotle  ;  he  had 
dared  to  introduce  Aristotle  into  the  Sanctuaiy  itself.^ 
One  of  his  Treatises  is  a  refutation  of  the  Arabian 

1  Haureao,  t  ii.  p.  1,  et  teq,  I  owe  most  of  what  follows,  with  references 
to  the  original  works,  to  the  two  Chapters  on  Albert  the  Great  in  Ritter, 
ChristiiGfae  PhikMophie,  Tiii.  p.  181,  and  M.  Haarean,  De  la  Philotophie 
Scolastique,  ii.  p.  1.  I  think  the  German  has  an  unysnal  advantage  over 
the  Frenchman  in  the  order,  and  therefore  in  the  perspicuity,  with  which  he 
has  developed  the  sjstem  of  Albert  the  Great  In  his  sharp,  precise  Ian* 
g«ag«  the  Frenchman  resumes  his  superiority;  and  it  must  be  remembered 
that  the  object  of  M.  Haureau*s  work  is  the  Scholastic  Philosophy.  I  have 
also  read  M.  Rousselof,  Etudes,  and  some  of  the  older  writers. 

*£t  in  banc  sententiam  convenerunt  multi  Theologl  dirersarum  reti- 
gkniim  tarn  scilicet  Saracenomm  quam  Judsornm,  quam  Christianorum. 
—  Lib.  viii.  Physic  c.  vi.,  quoted  by  M.  Haureau,  ii.  p.  54.  Alexander 
Halea  (about  1922)  had  illustrated  Christian  Theology  fh>m  Aristotle  and 
Avicenna.  —  Bitter.  181.    Also  William  of  Auvezgne.    See  Haureau,  p.  11. 

'The  only  Treatises  which  the  Scholastic  Philosopher  might  seem  to  dis- 
dain were  the  popular  and  practical  ones,  the  Rhetoric,  Poetics,  and  the 
Politics —  Bitter,  p.  188. 

*  See  quotation  from  Thomasius  in  Haureau,  and  M.  Hanreau^s  refuta- 
tion. An  andem  Orteo  giebt  er  zu  erkennen,  er  wollte  hier  nnr  die  Mel- 
Bang  der  Peripatiker  wiedergeben;  wie  dieselbe  mit  der  Katholischen 
Lehre  ansgeglichen  werden  konne,  lasst  er  dahin  gestellt  seyn.  Bitter, 
however,  does  full  justice  to  his  religion,  p.  191.  De  unitate  intellectna 
eontra  Avenrfaoem.    His  works  fill  twenty-one  volumes  folio. 


260  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

Averrhoes.  Nor  is  it  Aristotle  and  Averrhoes  alone 
that  come  within  the  pale  of  Albert's  erudition  ;  the 
commentators  and  glossators  of  Aristotle,  the  whole 
circle  of  the  Arabians,  are  quoted,  their  opinions,  their 
reasonings,  even  their  words,  with  the  utmost  fioniliar- 
ity.  But  with  Albert  Theology  was  still  the  master- 
science.  The  Bishop  of  Ratisbon  was  of  nnimpeached 
orthodoxy ;  the  vulgar  only,  in  his  wonderful  knowl- 
edge of  the  secrets  of  Nature,  in  his  studies  of  Natural 
History,  could  not  but  see  something  of  the  magician. 
Albert  had  the  ambition  of  reconciling  Plato  and  Aris* 
totle,  and  of  reconciling  this  harmonized  Aristotelian 
and  Platonic  philosophy  with  Christian  Divinity.  He 
thus,  in  some  degree,  misrepresented  or  misconceived 
both  the  Greeks  ;  he  hardened  Plato  into  Aristotelism, 
expanded  Aristotelism  into  Platonism ;  and  his  Chris- 
tianity, though  Albert  was  a  devout  man,  while  it  con- 
stantly subordinates,  in  strong  and  fervent  language, 
knowledge  to  faith  and  love,  became  less  a  religion 
than  a  philosophy.  Albert  has  little  of,  he  might  seem 
to  soar  above  the  peculiar  and  dominant  doctrines  of 
Christianity;  he  dwells  on  the  nature  of  God  rather 
than  on  the  Trinity,  on  the  immortality  of  the  soul 
rather  than  the  redemption  ;  on  sin,  on  original  sin,  he 
is  almost  silent.  According  to  the  established  Chris- 
tian thpology.  Creation  and  Redemption  were  simul- 
taneously in  the  counsels  of  God.  In  the  new  system, 
Grace  was  a  gift  for  the  advancement  of  Man's  inde- 
feasible intellectual  nature.  But  thou^^h  Albert  thus 
dwells  on  the  high,  as  it  were  philosophic.  Godhead,  he 
reserves  religiously  for  God  a  sole  primary  existence ; 
he  rejects  with  indignation  his  master  Aristotle's  tenet 
of  the  coetemity  of  matter  and  the  eternity  of  the 


) 


CHAP.m.  ALBERT'S  THEOLOGY.  261 

world  ;  ^  but  he  rests  not  in  the  sublime  simplicity  of 
the  Mosaic  creation  by  the  Word  of  God  out  of  nothing. 
Since  St.  Augustine  the  Platonic  doctrine  of  the  pre- 
existence  of  the  forms,  or  the  ideas,  of  all  things  in  the 
mind  of  God,  had  been  almost  the  accredited  doctrine 
of  the  Church.  Even  Matter  was  in  God,  but  before 
it  became  material,  only  in  its  form  and  possibility. 
Man,  indeed,  seems  to  be  doomed,  if  he  can  soar  above 
the  corporeal  anthropomorphism  which  arrayed  the 
Deity  in  human  form  (the*  anthropomorphism  of  the 
poets,  the  sculptors,  and  the  painters),  to  admit  an  in- 
tellectual anthropomorphism ;  to  endeavor  to  compre- 
hend and  define  the  laws  and  the  capacities  of  the 
Divine  Intelligence  according  to  his  own.*  Yet  when 
Albert  thus  accepted  a  kind  of  Platonic  emanation 
theory  of  all  things  from  the  Godhead,^  he  repudiated 
as  detestable,  as  blasphemous,  the  absolute  unity  of  the 
Divine  Intelligence  with  the  intelligence  of  man.    This 

1  Gott  wurde  bediirftig  sein,  wenn  sein  Werken  eine  Materie  yorauBsetze. 
.  .  .  Dass  die  Materie  nicht  ewig  sein  konne,  wird  aber  audi  daratu  er- 
•chlossen,  dass  Gott,  die  ewige  Fonn,  und'  die  Materie  nicht  mit  einander 
gemein  haben  konnten,  also  aacht  nicht  die  Ewigkeit  Hier  gebrancht  Al- 
bert dlesen  Satz  des  Aristoteles  gegen  den  Aristoteles  selbst.  —  Ritter,  pp. 

aoi-2. 

>  Le  Dieu  des  philosophes,  c'est  ^  dire  des  Th^ologiens  ^clair^s,  ne  fiit 
pas,  il  est  vrai,  celai  des  sculptenrs  et  des  peintres ;  mais  il  eat  bien  avec 
lui,  poor  ne  rien  c41er,  quelques  traits  de  ressemblance.  Pour  repr^senter 
la  figare  de  Dieu,  Tartiste  avait  choisi  dans  la  nature,  avec  les  yeux  du 
corps,  les  formes  qui  lui  avaient  sembl^  r^pondre  le  mieux  an  concept  id^al 
de  la  beauts  parfaite,  et  il  s'^tait  efforc^  de  les  reproduire  sur  le  bois  ou  sur 
la  pierre.  Pour  representor  Dieu  comme  Tintelligence  parfaite,  le  philoso- 
phe  proc^a  snivant  la  m@me  m^thode;  arrivant  an  dernier  terme  de  Tab- 
straction,  il  trouva  dans  Pentendement  humain,  les  id^es  g^n^rales,  et  il  ne 
But  alors  mieux  faire,  que  de  d^finir  Tintelligence  de  Dieu  le  lieu  primordial 
de  ces  id^es.— Hauieau,  p.  84.  Compare  the  whole  passage,  as  just  as  it 
is  brilliant. 

s  Primum  principium  est  indefinienter  fluens,  quo  intellectus  nniversali- 
ter  agens  indesinenter  est  intelligentias  emittens.  —  Apud  Bitter,  p.  190. 


262  LATIN  CHWSTIANmr.  Book  XIV. 

doctrine  of  Averrhoes  destroyed  the  personality  of  man, 
if  not  rf  Grod.  He  recoils  from  Pantheism  with  relig- 
ions horror.  His  perpetual  object  is  to  draw  the  dis- 
tinction between  the  Eternal  and  the  Temporal,  the 
Infinite  and  the  Finite ;  how  knowledge  is  attained, 
how  the  knowledge  of  God  differs  from  the  enthusiastic 
contemplation  of  God.  God,  though  not  to  be  com- 
prehended, may  be  known,  and  that  not  only  by  grace, 
but  by  natural  means.  God  is  as  the  Light,  every- 
where seen,  but  every  wh^te  escaping  the  comprehen- 
sion of  the  vision.  God  is  omnipresent,  all-working, 
yet  limited  by  the  capacities  of  existing  things. 

God  the  Creator,  (and  Creation  was  an  eternal, 
inalienable  attribute  of  the  God)  was  conceived,  as 
having  primarily  called  into  being  four  coeval  things 
of  everlasting  duration,  —  the  primal  Matter,  Time, 
Heaven,  the  Everlasting  Intelligence.^  But  Matter, 
and  Time,  it  should  seem,  were  properly  neither  Mat- 
ter nor  Time.  Matter  has  no  proper  existence,  it  is 
only  privative  ;  it  is  something  by  which  and  in  which 
works  Intelligence.^  The  Heavens  exist  (and  in  the 
Heavens,  though  this  is  something,  as  it  were,  apart 
from  his  theory,  Albert  admits  the  whole  established 
order  and  succession  of  the  Angels  from  Dionysius  the 

1  nie  enim  mAzime  intelligibilis  est  et  omnu  intellectos  et  intelligibilia 
CftiisA  et  in  omni  intelligibilj  attingitar,  sicat  lumen  quod  est  actus  visibili- 
nm,  attingitur  in  omni  visibili  per  yisom.  Sicat  tamen  lomen  secnndnm 
immensitatem,  qnam  habet  in  rota  solis  et  secundum  immensitatem  pote- 
itatis,  qua  omnia  visibilia  comprehendere  potest,  non  potest  capi  vel  com- 
prehendi,  a  visa,  ita  nee  intellectus  divinus,  secnndnm  ezoellentiam,  qua 
•xcellit  in  se  ipso,  et  secundum  potestatem  qa&  inustrare  potest  super  om- 
nia, etiam  super  infinita  intelligibilia,  capi  vel  comprehend!  potest  ab  intel- 
lectn  creato.  Summa  Theolog.,  quoted  in  Ritter,  p.  196.  The  finite  cannot 
comprehend  the  Infinite.  But  Albert  always  presupposes  the  moral  as  well 
at  the  Christian  preparatiye  for  knowledge,  virtue,  and  faith. 

3  Ritter,  p.  905. 


CBAP.m.  ALBERT'S  THEOLOGY.  268 

Areopagite  ^)  and  Intelligence,  which  subsists,  though 
oppressed  and  bowed  down,  even  in  lifeless  things. 
But  between  the  higher,  imperishable  intelligence  of 
man  and  the  intelligence  of  God  there  is  nothing  inter- 
mediate;^ and  yet  there  is  eternal,  irreconcilable  dif- 
ference. The  Unity  of  God  must  develop  itself  in 
multiplicity.  Man's  Intelligence  is  a  continual  e£9ux 
from  God,  an  operation  of  God,  but  yet  not  divine. 
As  God  it  has  its  own  Free  Will.^ 

And  so  Albert  goes  on,  and  so  went  on  Albert's  suc- 
cessors, and  so  go  on  Albert's  interpreters,  with  these 
exquisitely  subtile  distinctions  of  words,  which  they  re- 
fuse to  see  are  but  words,  making  matter  immaterial,^ 
forms  actual  beings  or  substances;  making  God  him- 
self, with  perfect  free-will,  act  under  a  kind  of  ne- 
cessity; making  thoughts  things,  subtilizing  things  to 
thoughts ;  beguiling  themselves  and  beguiling  mankind 
with  the  notion  that  they  are  passing  the  impassable 
barriers  of  human  knowledge ;  approaching  boldly, 
then  suddenly  recoiling  from  the  most  fatal  conclu- 
sions. In  the  pride  and  in  the  delight  of  conscious 
power,  in  the  exercise  of  the  reason,  and  its  wonderfrd 


1  The  whole  UniverM  was  a  prog^ressiye  descendant  development,  and 
ascendant  moyement  towards  perfection. 

>  On  the  great  mediieval  qoestion  Albert  would  be  at  once  a  Realist,  a 
Conceptualist,  and  a  Nominalist.  There  were  three  kinds  of  Universals, 
one  abstract,  self-existing,  one  in  the  object,  one  in  the  mind.  — Bitter,  p. 
219.    Haurean,  p.  14.    M.  Hanreaa  treats  this  part  at  length. 

9  Yet  he  does  not  deny,  he  asserts  iit  other  places,  that  which  Christianity 
and  Islam,  Latin,  Greek,  and  Arabian,  equally  admitted,  the  operation  of 
Qod  in  the  soul  of  man  through  Angels. 

^  Daher  ist  das  Sein  an  einem  jeden  Geschopfe  verschieden  von  dem,  was 
as  ist.  —  Bitter,  p.  211.  The  matter  is  only  the  outward  vehicle,  as  it 
were,  —  the  Form  gives  the  Being.  This  is  the  Theon'  of  Everrhoes.  See 
on  this  subject  the  just  and  sensible  observation  of  M.  Haureau,  from 
page  84. 


264  LATIN    CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIT. 

instniment  Logic,  these  profound  and  hardy  thinkers 
are  still  reproducing  the  same  eternal  problems ;  de- 
taching the  immaterial  part  of  man,  as  it  were,  from 
his  humanity,  and  blending  him  with  the  Godhead; 
bringing  the  Godhead  down  into  the  world,  till  the  dis- 
tinction is  lost ;  and  then  perceiving  and  crying  out  in 
indignation  against  what  seems  their  own  blasphemy. 
The  close  of  all  Albert  the  Great's  intense  labors,  of 
his  enormous  assemblage  of  the  opinions  of  the  phi* 
losophers  of  all  ages,  and  his  efforts  to  harmonize  them 
with  the  high  Christian  Theology,  is  a  kind  of  Eclec- 
ticism, an  unreconciled  Realism,  Conceptualism,  Nomi- 
nalism, with  many  of  the  difficulties  of  each.  The 
intelligence  of  God  was  but  an  archetype  of  the  intelli- 
gence of  man,  the  intelligence  of  man  a  type  of  that 
of  God ;  each  peopled  with  the  same  ideas,  representa- 
tives of  things,  conceptional  entities,  even  words ;  ex- 
isting in  God  before  all  existing  things,  before  time, 
and  to  exist  after  time ;  in  man  existing  after  existing 
things,  bom  in  time,  yet  to  share  in  the  immortality  of 
the  intelligence.  Thus  religion,  the  Christian  religion, 
by  throwing  upward  God  into  his  unapproachable,  in- 
effable, inconceivable  Mystery,  is  perhaps,  in  its  own 
province,  more  philosophical  than  philosophy.  Albert, 
in  admitting  the  title  of  the  Aristotelian  or  Greek,  or 
Arabian  philosophy,  to  scrutinize,  to  make  comprehen- 
sible the  Divine  Intelligence ;  in  attempting,  however 
glorious  the  attenlpt,  the  Impossible,  and  affixing  no 
limits  to  the  power  of  human  reason  and  logic,  while 
he  disturbed,  to  some  extent  unintentionally  deposed, 
Theology,  substituted  no  high  and  coherent  Philoso- 
phy. Safe  in  his  own  deep  religiousness,  and  his 
doctrinal  orthodoxy,  he  saw  not  how  with  his  philo- 


Cbap.UI.  THOMAS  AQUINAS.  265 

sophic  speculations  he  undermined  the  foundations  of 
his  theology. 

But  this  view  of  Albert  the  Great  is  still  imperfect 
and  imjust.  His  title  to  fame  is  not  that  he  introduced 
and  interpreted  the  Metaphysics  and  Physics  of  Aris-. 
totle,  and  the  works  of  the  Arabian  phUosophers  on 
these  abstruse  subjects  to  the  world,  but  because  he 
opened  the  field  of  true  philosophic  observation  to  man- 
kind. In  natural  history  he  unfolded  the  more  precious 
treasures  of  the  Aristotelian  philosophy,  he  revealed  all 
the  secrets  of  ancient  science,  and  added  large  contri- 
butions of  his  own  on  every  branch  of  it ;  in  math- 
ematics he  commented  on  and  explained  Euclid ;  in 
chemistry,  he  was  a  subtile  investigator ;  in  astronomy, 
a  bold  speculator.  Had  he  not  been  premature  —  had 
not  philosophy  been  seized  and  again  enslaved  to  theol- 
ogy, mysticism,  and  worldly  politics  —  he  might  have 
been  more  immediately  and  successfully  followed  by 
the  first,  if  not  by  the  second,  Bacon.^ 

Of  all  the  schoolmen  Thomas  Aquinas^  has  left  the 
greatest  name.     He  was  a  son  of  the  Count  Thomaa 
of  Aquino,  a  rich  fief  in  the  Kingdom  of  Na-  ^9»*'»"- 
jJes.     His  mother,  Theodora,  was  of  the  line  of  the 
old  Norman  Kings ;  his  brothers,  Reginald  and  Lan- 
dolph,  held  high  rank  in  the  Imperial  armies.     His 

1  Nous  ii*avons  interrog^  que  le  philosophe ;  nons  n'avons  parcouru  que 
trois  ou  quatre  de  ses  vingt-un  volumes  in-folio,  oeuvre  prodigieuse,  presque 
BUrhuDiainef  a  laquelle  aucunc  autre  ne  saurait  6tre  compar^e:  que  nous 
anraient  appris,  n  nous  avions  eu  le  loisir  de  les  eonsulter,  le  th^ologien 
form^  k  r^ole  des  P^res,  le  scmpuleux  investigateur  des  mysteres  de  la 
nature,  le  chimiste  subtil,  Taudacieux  astronome,  Thabile  interpr^te  des 
theordmes  d'EucIide.  Le  r^sultat  des  travaux  d* Albert  n*a  ^t^  rien  moins 
qu^nne  veritable  revolution !  Cela  resume  tous  ses  titres  k  la  gloire.  —  Han- 
reau,  ii.  p.  103.    He  perhaps  rather  forboded  than  wrought  this  revolution. 

a  Bom  about  1327. 


266  LATIN  CHBISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

fiunily  was  connected  by  marriage  with  the  Hohenstau* 
fens ;  they  had  Swabian  blood  in  their  veins,  and  so 
the  great  schoolman  was  of  the  race  of  Frederick  II. 
Monasticism  seized  on  Thomas  in  his  early  youth  ;  he 
became  an  inmate  of  Monte  Casino ;  at  sixteen  years 
of  age  he  caught  the  more  fiery  and  vigorous  enthusi^ 
asm  of  the  Dominicans.  By  them  he  was  sent  —  no 
unwilling  proselyte  and  pupil  —  to  France.  He  was 
seized  by  his  worldly  brothers,  and  sent  back  to  Naples; 
he  was  imprisoned  in  one  of  the  fitmily  castles,  but  re- 
sisted  even  the  fond  entreaties  of  liis  mother  and  his 
sisters.  He  persisted  in  his  pious  disobedience,  his  holy 
hardness  of  heart;  he  was  released  after  two  years' 
impriBonment-it  might  seem  straBge-at  the'coo. 
mand  of  the  Emperor  Frederick  II.  The  godless  Em- 
peror, as  he  was  called,  gave  Thomas  to  the  Church. 
Aquinas  took  the  irrevocable  vow  of  a  Friar  Preacher. 
He  became  a  scholar  of  Albert  the  Great  at  Cologne 
and  at  Paris.  He  was  dark,  silent,  unapproachable 
even  by  his  brethren,  perpetually  wrapt  in  profound 
ooiogM,  meditation.  He  was  called,  in  mockery,  the 
1244, 1246.  great  dumb  ox  of  Sicily.  Albert  questioned 
the  mute  disciple  on  the  most  deep  and  knotty  points 
of  theology ;  he  found,  as  he  confessed,  his  equal,  his 
superior.  ^'That  dumb  ox  will  make  the  world  r^ 
sound  with  his  doctrines."  With  Albert  the  fitithful 
disciple  returned  to  Cologne.  Again  he  went  back  to 
Paris,  received  his  academic  degrees,  and  taught  with 
universal  wonder^  Under  Alexander  IV.  he  stood  up 
in  Rome  in  defence  of  his  Order  against  the  eloquent 
William  de  St.  Amour ;  he  repudiated  for  his  Order, 
and  condemned  by  his  authority,  the  prophecies  of  the 
Abbot  Joachim.     He  taught  at  Cologne  with  Albert 


Chap.IU.  philosophy  OF  AQUINAS.  267 

the  Great ;  also  at  Paris,  at  Rome,  at  Orvieto,  at  Yi- 
terbo,  at  Peibgia.     Where  he  taught,  the  world  lis- 
tened in  respectful  silence.     He  was  acknowledged  by 
two  Popes,  Urban  IV.  and  Clement  IV.,  as  the  first 
theologian  of  the  age.     He  refused  the  Archbishopric 
of  Naples.     He  was  expected  at  the  Council  of  Lyons, 
as  the  authority  before  whom  all  Christendom  jj^^j^  2 
might  be  expected  to  bow  down.     He  died  ^^*' 
ere  he  had  passed  the  borders  of  Naples  at  the  Abbey 
of  Rossa  Nuova,  near  Terracina,  at  the  age  of  forty* 
eight.     Dark  tales  were  told  of  his  death  ;^  only  the 
wickedness  of  roan  could  deprive  the  world  so  early 
of  such  a  wonder.     The  University  of  Paris  j„,  « 
claimed,  but  in  vain,  the  treasure  of  his  mor-  ^^* 
tal  remains.^     He  war  canonized  by  John  XXII. 

Thomas  Aquinas  is  throughout,  above  all,  the  The- 
ologian. God  and  the  soul  of  man  are  the  only  objects 
truly  worthy  of  his  philosophic  investigation.  This  is 
the  Ainction  of  the  Angelic  Doctor,  the  mission  of  the 
Angel  of  the  schools.  In  his  works,  or  rather  in  hia 
one  great  work,  is  the  final  result  of  all  which  has  been 
decided  by  Pope  or  Council,  taught  by  the  Fathers, 
accepted  by  tradition,  argued  in  the  schools,  inculcated 
in  the  Confessional.  The  Sum  of  Theology  is  the 
authentic,  authoritative,  acknowledged  code  of  Latin 
Christianity.     We  cannot  but  contrast  this  vast  work 

^  See  vol.  yi.  p.  130,  with  the  quotation  from  Dante.  One.  stoiy  was  that 
Charles  of  Anjon  had  attempted  violence  on  a  niece  of  St.  Thomas,  and 
that  the  Saint  had  determined  to  denounce  the  crime  hefore  the  Council  of 
Lvons;  others  said  that  Charles  resented  the  free  if  not  king-killing  doc- 
trines of  the  treatise  of  St.  Thomas  de  Regimine  Piindpom.  But  there  ia 
a  fall  account  of  the  calm,  pious  death  of  St  Thomas.  He  was  111  more 
tlian  a  month,  with  every  sign  of  natural  decay. 

>  Read  the  remarkable  letter  of  the  Universi^  in  the  Lift  in  the  Bol- 
landists. 


268  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV 

with  the  original  Gospel :  to  this  bulk  has  grown  the 
New  Testament,  or  rather  the  doctrinal  Ad  moral  part 
of  the  New  Testament.^  But  Aquinas  is  an  intellect- 
ual theologian  :  he  approaches  more  nearly  than  most 
philosophers,  certainly  than  most  divines,  to  pure  em- 
bodied intellect.  He  is  perfectly  passionless ;  he  has 
no  polemic  indignation,  nothing  of  the  Churchman's 
jealousy  and  suspicion  ;  he  has  no  fear  of  the  result  of 
any '  investigation  ;  he  hates  nothing,  hardly  heresy ; 
loves  nothing,  unless  perhaps  naked,  abstract  truth. 
In  his  serene  confidence  that  all  must  end  in  good,  he 
moves  the  most  startling  and  even  perilous  questions, 
as  if  they  were  the  most  indifferent,  the  very  Being  of 
God.  God  must  be  revealed  by  syllogistic  process. 
Himself  inwardly  conscious  of  the  absolute  harmony 
of  his  own  intellectual  and  moral  being,  he  places  sin 
not  so  much  in  the  will  as  in  the  understanding.  The 
perfection  of  man  is  the  perfection  of  his  intelligence. 
He  examines  with  the  same  perfect  self-command,  it 
might  almost  be  said  apathy,  the  converse  as  well  as 
the  proof  of  the  most  vital  religious  truths.  He  is 
nearly  as  consummate  a  sceptic,  almost  atheist,  as  he 
is  a  divine  and  theologian.  Secure,  as  it  should  seem, 
in  impenetrable  armor,  he  has  not  only  no  apprehen- 
sion, but  seems  not  to  suppose  the  possibility  of  danger; 
he  has  nothing  of  the  boastfulness  of  self-confidence, 
but  in  calm  assurance  of  victory,  gives  every  advan- 
tage to  his  adversary.     On  both  sides  of  every  ques- 

1  My  copy  of  the  Summa  of  Aquinas  has  above  twelve  hnndred  of  the 
▼eiy  closest  printed  folio  pages  in  double  columns,  without  the  indexes.  I 
pretend  not  to  have  read  it;  but  whoever  is  curious  to  know,  as  it  were, 
the  ultimate  decisions  of  the  Latin  Church  on  most  theological  or  ethical 
points  will  consult  it;  and  will  see  the  range  and  scope  of  that  theology, 
and  the  groundwork  of  all  the  later  casoistiy. 


OBAF.m.  WORLDS  OF  AQUINAS.  269 

tion  he  casts  the  argument  into  one  of  his  clear,  distinct 
syllogisms,  aifd  calmly  places  himself  as  Arbiter,  and 
passes  judgment  in  one  or  a  series  of  still  more  unan- 
swerable syllogisms.  He  has  assigned  its  unassailable 
province  to  Church  authority,  to  tradition  or  the  Fa- 
thers, faith  and  works ;  but  beyond,  Within  the  proper 
sphere  of  philosophy,  he  asserts  foil  freedom.  There 
is  no  Father,  even  St.  Augustine,  who  may  not  be  ex- 
amined by  the  fearless  intellect. 

Thomas  Aquinas  has  nothing  like  the  boundless 
range  of  Albert  the  Great ;  he  disdains  or  fears  Nat- 
ural Philosophy.  Within  their  common  sphere  he  is 
the  &ithful  disciple  of  the  master,  but  far  surpasses  him 
in  clearness,  distinctness,  precision,  conclusiveness.  He 
had  some  works  of  Plato,  unknown  to  Albert,  acquired 
perhaps  in  his  native  Magna  Grsecia ;  but,  with  Albert, 
he  rejects  the  coeternal  ideas  subsistent  without  and  be- 
yond the  Deity.  With  Albert  in  that  controversy  he 
is  a  high  Aristotelian,  but  repudiates  as  decisively  the 
eitemity  of  matter,  the  imperishability  of  the  Universe. 

Aquinas  has,  as  it  were,  three  distinct  and  unmin- 
gling  worlds :  the  world  of  God,  the  world  of  the  imma- 
terial angels  and  demons,  the  world  of  mingled  matter 
Wdd  intelligence,  —  that  of  man.  God  is  alone,  the 
One  absolute,  infinite,  self-subsistent,  whose  essence  it 
is  "  to  be."  No  Eastern  anti-materialist  ever  guarded 
the  primal  Godhead  more  zealously  from  any  intrusive 
debasement.  God  is  his  own  unique  form :  proceeds 
from  no  antecedent  form,  communicates  with  no  infe- 
rior form.  The  Godhead  is  in  itself,  by  itself,  all  that 
is.  It  is  preexistent  to  matter,  eternally  separate  from 
matter.^     But  Thomas  must  never  lose  the  Christian 

^  Compare  Haaiean,  p.  165. 


270  LiLTnf  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  ZIT. 

dieologian  in  the  philosopher.  All  this  abetract,  un- 
mingling,  solitary  Deity,  is  not  merely  to  be  endowed 
with  his  eternal,  immutable  attributes,  Omnipresence, 
Omniscience,  Providence,  but  reconciled  with  the  mys- 
terious doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  Thomas  has  not 
merely  to  avoid  the  errors  of  Plato  and  Aristotle,  but 
of  Arius  and  Sabellius ;  and  on  the  Trinity  he  is  al- 
most as  diflttse,  even  more  minute,  than  on  the  sole 
original  Godhead.  The  most  microscopic  eye  can 
hardly  trace  his  exquisite  and  subtile  distinctions,  the 
thin  and  shadowy  diflerences  of  words  which  he  creates 
or  seizes.  Tet  he  himself  seems  to  walk  unbewildered 
in  his  own  labyrinth ;  he  walks  apparently  as  calmly 
and  firmly  as  if  he  were  in  open  day ;  leaves  nothing 
unquestioned,  unaccounted  for ;  defines  the  undefinable, 
distinguishes  the  undistinguishable ;  and  lays  down  his 
conclusions  as  if  they  were  mathematical  truths. 

Aquinas's  world  of  Angels  and  Demons  compre* 
bended  the  whole  mystic  Hierarchy  of  the  Areopagite. 
Matter  is  not  their  substance ;  they  are  inmiateriaL 
They  are  not  self-subsistent ;  being  is  not  their  essence.^ 
They  are,  on  one  side,  finite ;  on  the  other,  infinite : 
npwaitis,  finite ;  for  they  are  limited  by  the  stem  line 
which  divides  them  firom  the  Grodhead :  infinite,  down- 
wards ;  for  they  seek  no  inferior  subject.  But  as  that 
which  diversifies,  multiplies,  and  individualizes,  is  mat- 
ter, and  divisibility  is  the  essential  property  of  matter, 
all  the  Angels,  thence,  logically,  would  be  but  one  An- 
gel, as  there  is  but  one  pure  spirituality.  In  this  point, 
and  about  the  whole  subject  of  Angels,  Thomas,  instead 

1  Esse  Angeli  non  est  essentia  sed  accidens.  —  Samma,  i.  qaast  xiL 
Alt.  4.  They  owe  their  being  to  a  free  act  of  the  divine  will.  Compars 
Hauiteo,  p.  155. 


Chap.  HI.  WORLDS  OF  AQTTINAS.  271 

of  being  embarrassed,  seemed  to  delight  and  revel ;  his 
luxury  of  distinction  and  definition,  if  it  be  not  a  con- 
tradiction, his  imaginative  logic,  is  inexhaustible.  He 
is  absolutely  wanton  in  the  questions  which  he  starts, 
and  answers  with  all  the  grave  satisfaction  as  on  solemn 
questions  of  life  and  death.^ 

The  third  world  is  that  of  matter  and  of  man.  The 
world  was  created  by  God  according  to  forms  (or  ideas) 
existent,  not  without  but  within  the  Deity ;  for  God 
must  have  known  what  he  would  create.  These  forms, 
these  ideas,  these  types  of  existing  things,  are  part  of 
God's  infinite  knowledge ;  they  are  the  essence  of  God ; 
they  are  God.  Man  is  inseparable  from  matter  ;  mat- 
ter cannot  exist  without  form.'  The  soul,  the  intelli- 
gence of  man,  constitutes  the  third  world.  It  shares, 
in  some  degree,  the  immateriality  of  the  two  higher 
orders.  It  is  self-subsistent ;  but  it  needs  the  material 
body,  as  its  organ,  its  instrument.  It  is  not,  however, 
preexistent ;  Origen  was  a  name  of  ill  repute  in  the 
Church  ;  his  doctrine  therefore,  by  some  subtile  logical 
effort,  must  be  rejected.  Each  separate  soul  is  not 
created  ere  it  is  infused  into  the  human  body ;  this 
creation  is  simultaneous ;  nothing  uncreate  is  presup- 
posed.* But  if  not  selfnsubsistent,  not  possibly  preex- 
istent, before  their  union  with  the  body,  how,  according 

1 E.  g.  Utrnm  in  Angelis  sit  cognitio  matutina  et  vespertina.  "  Whether 
angels  reason  bj  logic  "  had  been  discussed  before. 

<  God  cannot  create  matter  without  form ;  this  is  a  necessaiy  limit  of  his 
omnipotence.    It  would  be  a  contradiction.  —  Samma. 

s  Cum  anima  sine  corpore  existens  non  habeat  suae  natnrse  perfoctionem, 
nee  Deus  ab  imperfectis  sunm  opus  inchoaret,  simpHctter  fiitendum  est  ani- 
mas  simul  cum  corporibus  creari  et  infundi.  —  Sumroa,  i.  qucest.  xviil.  8. 
Creatio  est  prodnctio  alicnjus  rei  secundum  suam  totam  substantiam  nullo 
pnesapposito,  quod  sit  vel  increatum,  vel  ab  aliquo  creatum.  —  QuRSt 
bcv.  8. 


272  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  HV. 

to  the  orthodox  doctrine,  can  souls  be  self-subsistent 
after  the  dissolution  of  the  union  ?  St.  Thomas  takes 
refuge  in  the  Angelic  world.  This,  too,  was  created ; 
and  the  souls,  retaining  the  individuality,  which  they 
had  acquired  in  their  conjunction  with  matter,  with- 
draw as  it  were  into  this  separate  immaterial  and  un- 
mingling  world. 

It  is  obvious  that  our  space  only  permits  us  to  touch, 
and,  we  fear,  with  inevitable  obscurity,  some  of  the 
characteristic  views  of  St.  Thomas.  St.  Thomas,  like 
his  predecessor,  Albert,  on  the  great  question  of  uni- 
versals,  is  Eclectic  ;  neither  absolutely  Realist,  Concept- 
ualist,  nor  Nominalist.  Universals  are  real  only  in 
God,  and  but  seemingly,  in  potentiality  rather  than  ac- 
tuality :  they  are  subjective  in  the  intelligence  of  man ; 
they  result  objectively  in  things.  St.  Thomas  rejects 
the  Democritean  effluxes  of  outward  things,  by  which 
the  atomistic  philosophy  accounted  for  our  perceptions : 
he  admits  images  of  things  reflected  and  received  by 
the  senses  as  by  a  mirror,  and  so  brought  under  the 
cognizance  of  the  intelligence.  The  intelligence  has,  as 
it-  were,  only  the  power,  a  dormant  faculty  of  knowl- 
edge, till  the  object  is  presented,  through  the  image. 
But  the  conception  by  the  senses  is  confused,  indeter- 
minate ;  till  abstracted,  analyzed,  at  once  universalized 
and  individualized  by  the  intelligence.^ 

1  Cognitio  indistincta.  Ainsi  la  nensation  est  ant^rienre  a  rintellection, 
c'est  convenn;  mais  toute  sensation  est  ind^termin^ef  universellement  con- 
fiise.  avant  d'etre  acbev^e,  avant  d'etre  Tacte  qni  la  termina,  c*est-ii-dire 
Tid^e  individaelle  de  la  chose  sentie,  le  iknt6me;  de  m§ine  rintellectioii 
n'est  devenue  cette  id^e  claire,  positive,  absolument  distincte  de  tout  antre, 
qot  r^pond  au  mot  humanity  qu'apr^s  nn  travail  de  Tesprit  qui  distrait 
tout  le  propre  de  rhamanit^  de  la  notion  ant^rieure  et  confiise  de  Tanima- 
lit^.  On  ne  s'attendait  pent-^tra  pas  k  ce  trayail,  chez  un  doctenr  da  treiai- 
^me  si6de,  cette  savante  critiqae  de  la  hcalU  de  connaltie.  —  Haoreao,  p. 


Chap.  HI.  BONAVENTURA.  278 

Tet  Thomas  ruled  not  in  uncontested  supremacy 
even  in  his  intellectual  realm :  he  was  en-  FranciMaoi, 
countered  by  an  antagonist  as  severely  intellectual  as 
himself.  No  doubt  the  jealousy  of  the  rival  orders,  the 
Dominican  and  the  Franciscan,  had  much  to  do  with 
the  war  of  the  Scotist*  and  the  Thomists,  which  divided 
the  very  narrow  world  which  understood,  or  thought 
they  understood,  the  points  in  dispute,  and  the  wider 
world  who  took  either  side,  on  account  of  the  habit, 
Franciscan  or  Dominican,  of  the  champion.  It  is  sin- 
gular to  trace,  even  in  their  Scholasticism,  the  ruling 
character,  so  oppugnant  to  each  other,  of  the  two  Or- 
ders. In  Albert  the  Great,  and  in  St.  Thomas,  there 
is  something  staid,  robust,  muscular,  the  calmness  of 
conscious  strength  ;  their  reasoning  is  more  sedate,  if 
to  such  a  subject  the  term  may  be  applied,  more  pn^- 
tical.  The  intelligence  of  man  is  to  be  trained  by 
severe  discipline  to  the  height  of  knowledge;  and 
knowledge  is  its  high  ultimate  reward.  With  the 
Franciscans  there  is  still  passion :  in  Bonaventura,  the 
mild  passion  of  Mysticism  ;  in  Duns  Scotus,  Bonayentan. 
if  it  may  be  so  said.  Logic  itself  is  become  a  passion. 
Duns  is,  by  nature,  habit,  training,  use,  a  polemic.  In 
Ockham  it  is  a  revolutionary  passion  in  philosophy  as 
in  politics.  The  true  opposite,  indeed  rival  he  may  be 
called,  of  Thomas,  was  bis  contemporary,  his  friend 
Bonaventura.    These  two  men  we^e  to  have  met  at  the 

903.  I  have  made  this  extract,  not  merely  because  it  contains  an  important 
illnstration  of  the  philosophy  of  Aquinas,  but  because  it  is  such  a  remarka- 
ble indication  of  the  penetrative  good  sense,  which,  notwithstaodiog  all  hia 
scholastic  subtilty,  appears,  as  far  as  my  narrow  acquaintance  with  his 
works,  to  set  Aquinas  above  all  Schoolmen.  I  have  read  the  splendid 
quarto  volume  of  M.  Carle,  *  Histoire  de  la  Vie  et  des  Ecrits  de  St.  Thomas 
d*Aqnin,*  of  which  I  much  admire  the  —  tjl^e. 

VOL.  ym.  18 


274  LATIN  CHMSTIANITY.  Book  XIV 

Council  of  Lyons.  One  died  on  the  road,  the  other 
just  lived  to  receive  his  Cardinal's  hat,  with  the  fiill 
applause  of  that  great  QBcumenic  S}mod :  a  Pope,  an 
Emperor,  and  a  King,  attended  his  magnificent  funeraL 
In  Bonaventura  the  philosopher  Tecede%  ;  religious  edi- 
fication is  his  mission.  A  much  smaller  proportion  of 
his  voluminous  works  is  pure  Scholasticism :  he  is 
teaching  by  the  Life  of  his  Holy  Founder,  St.  Francis, 
and  by  what  may  be  called  a  new  Gospel,  a  legendary 
Life  of  the  Saviour,  which  seems  to  claim,  with  all  its 
wild  traditions,  equal  right  to  the  belief  with  that  of 
the  Evangelists.  Bonaventura  himself  seems  to  deliver 
it  as  his  own  unquestioning  faith.  Bonaventura,  if  not 
ignorant  of,  feared  or  disdained  to  know  much  of  Aris- 
totle or  the  Arabians :  he  philosophizes  only  because  ib 
his  age  he  could  not  avoid  philosophy.  The  philosophy 
of  Bonaventura  rests  on  the  theological  doctrine  of 
Original  Sin :  the  soul,  exiled  from  God,  must  return 
to  God.  The  most  popular  work  of  Bonaventmmi 
with  his  mystic  admirers,  was  the  Itinerary  of  the  Soul 
to  God.  The  love  of  God,  and  the  knowledge  of  God, 
proceed  hannoniously  together,  through  four  degrees  or 
kinds  of  light.  The  external  light,  by  which  we  learn 
the  mechanic  arts:  the  inferior  light,  which  shines 
through  the  senses,  by  these  we  comprehend  individuals 
or  things :  the  internal  light,  the  reason,  which  by  re- 
flection raises  the  soul  to  intellectual  things,  to  univor- 
sals  in  conception :  the  superior  light  of  grace,  which 
reveals  to  us  the  sanctifying  virtues,  shows  us  univep- 
sals,  in  their  reality,  in  God. 

Bonaventura  rests   not  below   this  highest   light.^ 
Philosophy  pretends  that  it  may  soar  to  the  utmost 

1  From  Haurean,  p.  S24. 


Orat.  in.  BOKATENTURl.  275 

beighte,  and  behold  the  Invisible  ;  it  presumes  to  arer 
that  thought,  by  dwdling  on  God,  may  behold  him  in 
spirit  and  in  truth.  Against  thk  doctrine  Bonaven* 
tura  protests  with  all  his  energy.  Reason  may  reach 
the  ultimate  bounds  of  nature ;  would  it  trespass  far* 
iher,  it  is  dazzled,  blinded  by  excess  of  light.  Is  faith 
in  the  intellect  or  in  the  affections  ?  it  enlightens  the 
intellect,  it  rules  over  the  affections.  Which  has  the 
greater  certitude,  knowledge  or  faith  ?  There  must  be 
a  distinction.  There  is  a  knowledge  which  is  confined 
to  human  things.  There  is  a  knowledge  which  is  the 
actual  vision  of  God.  This  ultimate  knowledge,  though 
of  faith,  is  superior  to  faith ;  it  is  its  absolute  perfeo- 
tion.  There  is  a  certainty  of  speculation,  a  certainty 
of  adhesion.  The  certainty  of  adhesion  is  the  certaiit* 
ty  of  faith ;  for  this  men  have  died.  What  Geometer 
ever  died  to  vindicate  the  certainty  of  geometry?^ 
All  this  lower  knowledge  ought  to  be  disdainftilly 
thrown  aside  for  the  knowledge  of  God.  All  sensible 
appearances,  all  intellectual  operations,  should  be  dish 
missed ;  the  whole  weight  of  the  affections  be  fixed 
and  centred  on  the  one  absolute  essence  in  God.  The 
faithful  Christian,  if  he  might  know  the  whole  of 
physical  science,  would,  in -his  loyal  adhesion  to  his  b^ 

>  Est  enfin  certitudo  speeolationis  et  est  certitado  adhsesionis ;  et  prima 
q»i<l«m  res)Hcit  intellectuin,  secunda  Ter»  renpicit  ipeam  affectum.  .  .  .  Sic 
major  est'  certitudo  in  ipsa  fide  quod  sit  in  habitu  scientise,  pro  eo  quod 
rera  fides  magis  facit  adhaerere  ipsum  credentem  veritati  credita:,  quam 
aliqua  sciantia  alieujus  rei  scitiB.  Videmus  enim  veros  fideles  neo  per  ai^u- 
menU,  nee  per  tormenta,  nee  per  bkuidimenta,  incliDari  posse  nt  verity 
tern  quam  credunt,  saltern  ore  tenus,  negent  Stoltos  etiam  esset  geometrm 
qui  pro  quacunqne  cert&  condusione  geometriie,  auderet  subire  mortem.  •-• 
In  Sentent.  xxJii.  qntest.  11  a  14,  quoted  by  Haurean,  p.  226.  Stnmg« 
pradietiau  o#  Galileo  I  Veros  fidelia  etiaa  si  sdret  totam  physicamt  maliot 
iotam  illam  ade&tiam  perdere,  qnam  nnum  solum  articulum  perdcre  vel  na 
gure,  adeo  adhserens  veritati  credita.  —  n>id. 


276  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

lief,  lose  all  that  science  rather  than  abandon  or  deny 
one  article  of  the  faith.  The  raptures  of  Bonaventura, 
like  the  raptures  of  all  Mystics,  tremble  on  the  borders 
of  Pantheism :  he  would  still  keep  up  the  distinction 
between  the  soul  and  God ;  but  the  soul  must  aspire 
to  absolute  unity  with  God,  in  whom  all  ideas  are  in 
reality  one,  though  many  according  to  human  thought 
and  speech.  But  the  soul,  by  contemplation,  by  beatif- 
ic vision,  is,  as  it  were,  to  be  lost  and  merged  in  that 
Unity.i 

Where  the  famous  Duns  Scotus  was  bom,  in  Scot- 
DmuSeotiu.  land,  in  Ireland,  in  Northumberland ;  why 
called  the  Scot,  what  was  his  parentage ;  all  is  utter 
darkness,  thick  and  impenetrable  as  his  own  writings, 
from  whence  some  derived  his  Greek  name,  Scotus. 
He  appeared  a  humble  Franciscan  at  Oxford ;  the 
subtile  Doctor  gathered  around  him  30,000  pupils. 
At  Paris  he  was  not  heard  by  less  eager  or  countless 
crowds.  From  Paris  he  went  to  Cologne,  and  there 
died.  The  vast  writings  of  Duns  Scotus,  which  as  lec- 
tures thousands  thronged  to  hear,  spread  out  as  the 
dreary  sandy  wilderness  of  philosophy ;  if  its  border 
be  now  occasionally  entered  by  some  curious  traveller, 
he  may  return  with  all  the  satisfaction,  but  hardly  the 
reward,  of  a  discoverer.  The  toil,  if  the  story  of  his 
early  death  be  true,  the  rapidity,  of  this  man's  mental 
productiveness,  is  perhaps  the  most  wonderful  fact  in 

I  Et  quoniam  cognowens  est  nnnm,  et  oo^ta  sunt  mnlta,  ideo  omoes 
ideas  in  Deo  sunt  nnnm,  secundom  rem,  sed  tamen  plnres  secandum  ratio- 
nem  intelligendi  sive  dicendi.  —  In  Intel,  i.  xxv.  1-3,  quoted  by  Ritter,  p. 
486.  Ta  autem,  o  amice,  circa  mysticas  visiones  corroborato  itinere  et  sen* 
BUB  deiere  et  intellectoales  operationes  et  aensibilia  et  invisibilia,  et  omne 
non  ens  et  ens,  et  ad  nnitatem,  ut  possibile  est,  inscios  restitnere  ipeiofl, 
qni  est  super  omnem  essentiam  et  scientiam.  Itin.  Ment.  ad  Denm,  2, 6,  T. 
-Ibid.  p.  408. 


CHAP.m.  DUNS  scoTUs.  277 

the  intellectual  history  of  our  race.  He  is  said  to  have 
died  at  the  age  of  thirty-four,  a  period  at  which  most 
minds  are  hardly  at  their  fullest  strength,  having  writr 
ten  thirteen  closely-printed  folio  volumes,  without  an 
image,  perhaps  without  a  superfluous  word,  except  the 
eternal  logical  formularies  and  amplifications.^  These 
volumes  do  not  contain  his  Sermons  and  Commenta- 
ries, which  were  of  endless  extent.  The  mind  of  Duns 
might  seem-  a  wonderful  reasoning  machine ;  whatr 
ever  was  thrown  into  it  came  out  in  syllogisms  :  of  the 
coarsest  texture,  yet  in  perfect  flawless  pattern.  Logic 
was  the  idol  of  Duns ;  and  this  Logic-worship  is  the 
key  to  his  whole  philosophy.  Logic  was  asserted  by 
him  not  to  be  an  art,  but  a  science  ;  ratiocination  was 
not  an  instrument,  a  means  for  discovering  truth :  it 
was  an  tdtimate  end ;  its  conclusions  were  truth.  Even 
his  language  was  Logic-worship.  The  older  School- 
men preserved  something  of  the  sound,  the  flow,  the 
grammatical  construction,  we  must  not  say  of  Cicero 
or  Livy,  but  of  the  earlier  Fathers,  especially  of  St. 
Augustine.  The  Latinity  of  Duns  is  a  barbarous  jar- 
gon.^ His  subtile  distinctions  constantly  demanded  new 
words :  he  made  them  without  scruple.  It  would  re- 
quire the  most  patient  study,  as  well  as  a  new  Diction- 
ary, to  comprehend  his  terms.     Logic  being  a  science, 

1  Hanreaa  adopts  this  account  of  the  age  of  Duns  without  hesitation;  it 
has  been  controyerted,  however,  rather  from  the  incredibility  of  the  fact 
than  from  reasons  drawn  from  the  very  few  known  circumstances  or  dates 
of  his  life.  See  Schroeckh.  xxiv.  437.  Trithemins,  a  very  inaccurate  writr 
or,  makes  him  a  hearer  of  Alexander  Hales  in  1245;  if  so,  at  his  death  in 
1308  he  must  have  been  above  sixty.  But  no  doubt  the  authority,  wha> 
ever  he  was,  of  Trithemius  wrote  Scholar  (follower),  not  Hearer. 

*  Scotus  has  neither  the  philosophic  dignity  nor  the  calm  wisdom  oi 
Thomas ;  he  is  rude,  polemic.  He  does  not  want  theologic  hatred.  Sara- 
oeni  —  villssimi  porci  —  asini  Manichei.  Ule  maledictus  Averrhoes. — 
Bitter,  p.  360. 


278  LATOr  CHBIBTIANrrT.  BookXIT. 

aot  an  art,  the  objects  aboat  which  it  is  conversant  are 
not  representatiyes  of  things,  bat  real  things ;  the  con^ 
captions  of  hnxnan  thought,  things,  according  to  the 
Thomist  theoiy,  of  second  intention,  are  here  as  things 
of  first  intention,  actual  as  snbsistent.  Dans,  indeed, 
condescended  to  draw  a  distinction  between  pure  and 
applied  Logic ;.  the  volgar  applied  Logic  might  be  only 
an  instroment ;  the  universals,  the  entities  of  pure  log* 
ic,  asserted  their  undeniable  reality.  Duns  Scotns  is 
an  Aristotelian  beyond  Aristotle,  a  Platonist  beyond 
Plato ;  at  the  same  time  the  most  sternly  orthodox  of 
TheologianB.^  On  the  eternity  of  matter  he  transcends 
his  master :  he  accepts  the  hardy  saying  of  Avicemr 
bron,^  of  the  universality  of  matter.  He  carries  mat- 
ter not  only  higher  than  the  intermediate  world  of 
Devils  and  Angels,  but  up  into  the  very  Sanctuaiy, 
into  the  Godhead  itself.  And  how  is  this  ?  by  dema* 
terializing  matter,  by  stripping  it  of  everything  which, 
to  the  ordinary  apprehension,  and  not  less  to  philo* 
sophic  thought,  has  distinguished  matter ;  by  spiritual* 
izing  it  to  the  purest  spirituality.     Matter  only  became 

1  Die  Ricbtimg,  welche  «r  seiner  Wiaseiucluift  gegeben  lutt,  ist  doichaoi 
kiichlicli.—  Ritter,  p.  836. 

'  Je  revieiis,  dit-il,  it  la  th^se  d'Avicembron  (ego  antem  ad  positionem 
ATicembronis  redeo),  et  je  soutiens  d*abord  que  toute  substance  cr^^e,  cor- 
porelle  on  spiritaeUe,  paiticipe  de  la  mati^re.  Je  pronre  enaidte  que  cetto 
mati^re  est  nne  en  tons  —  quod  sit  unica  materia.  —  Haurean,  p.  328. 
Selbst  die  Materie,  obwobl  sie  die  niedrigste  von  allem  Seienden  ist,  muss 
doch  also  ein  Seiendea  gedacht  werden  and  bat  ihre  Idee  in  Gott  —  Ritter, 
p.  438.  Tbe  modern  Baconian  pbilosopby  may  appear  in  one  sense  to  baTe 
rsacbed  the  same  point  as  tbe  metaphysical  philosophy  of  Duns  Scotos,  to 
haye  sabtillzed  matter  into  immateriality^  to  have  reached  the  point 
where  the  distinction  between  the  spiritoal  and  material  seems  to  be  kwt, 
and  almost  mocks  definition.  It  is  arrived  at  centres  of  force,  powers  Im- 
palpable, imponderable,  infinite.  But  it  is  one  thing  to  refine  away  all  the 
qualities  of  matter  by  experiment,  and  to  do  it  by  stripping  words  of  their 
conventional  meaning.  Mr.  Faraday^s  discoveries  and  his  ihme  will  not 
meet  the  fate  of  Duns  Sootus. 


Cmaf.  UL  SCOnSTS  AND  THOMISTS.  279 

material  by  being  conjoined  with  form.  Before  that 
it  subsisted  potentially  only,  abstract,  unembodied,  im- 
material ;  an  entity  conceivable  aloiie,  but  as  being 
conceivable,  therefore  real.  For  this  end  the  Subtile 
Doctor  created,  high  above  all  vulgar  common  matteri 
a  primary  primal,  a  secondaiy  primal,  a  tertiary  primal 
matter ;  and  yet  this  matter  was  One.  The  universal 
Primary  primal  matter  is  in  all  things ;  but  as  the  sec- 
ondary primal  matter  has  received  the  double  form  of 
the  corruptible  and  incorruptible,  it  is  shared  between 
these  two»  The  tertiary  primal  matter  distributes  it- 
self among  the  infinite  species  which  range  under  these 
genera.^  It  is  strange  to  find  Scholasticism,  in  both  its 
opposite  paths,  gliding  into  Pantheism.  An  universal 
infinite  Matter,  matter  refined  to  pure  Spiritualism, 
comprehending  the  finite,  sounds  like  the  most  extreme 
Spinosism.  But  Scotus,  bewildered  by  his  own  skilful 
word-juggling,  perceives  not  this,  and  repudiates  the 
consequence  with  indignation.  God  is  still  with  him 
the  high,  remote  Monad,  above  all  things,  though 
throughout  all  things.^  In  him,  and  not  without  him, 
according  to  what  is  asserted  to  be  Platonic  doctrinei 
are  the  forms  and  ideas  of  things.  With  equal  zeal, 
and  with  equal  ingenuity  with  the  Thomists,  he  at- 
tempts to  maintain  the  free-will  of  God,  whom  he 
seems  to  have  bound  in  the  chain  of  inexorable  neces- 
sity.^    He  saves  it  by  a  distinction  which  even  his 

1  Dicitur  materia  eecundo  prima  qua  est  subjectum  generationis  et  cor- 
raptionis,qiiam  mutant  et  transmntaiit  agentia  creata,  Beu  angelt  sen  agen- 
tia  comiptibilia;  qa«  at  dixi,  addit.ad  materiam  primo  primam,  quia  eiise 
subjectum  generationis  Bon  potest  sine  aliqu&  formal  substantiali  aut  siaa 
quantitate,  qun  sunt  extra  rationem  materis  primo  prima».  -^  Haureau. 

3  Haureau,  p.  359. 

'  L*origine  de  toutes  les  erreurs  propag^es  au  siyet  de  la  Creation  viont, 
dit-il,  de  oe  que  lea  philosophes  ont  t^m^rairement  assimiU  la  voloottf  di* 


280  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

subtilty  can  hardly  define.  Yet,  behind  and  without 
this  nebulous  circle,  Duns  Scotus,  as  a  metaphysical 
and  an  ethical  writer,  is  remarkable  for  his  bold  specu- 
lative views  on  the  nature  of  our  intelligence,  on  its 
communication  with  the  outward  world,  by  the  senses, 
by  its  own  innate  powers,  as  well  as  by  the  influence 
of  the  superior  Intelligence.  He  thinks  with  perfect 
freedom ;  and  if  he  spins  his  spider-webs,  it  is  impossi- 
ble not  to  be  struck  at  once  by  their  strength  and  co- 
herence. Translate  him,  as  some  have  attempted  to 
translate  him,  into  intelligible  language,  he  is  always 
suggestive,  sometimes  conclusive. 

The  war  of  Scotists  and  Thomists  long  divided  the 
Schools,  not  the  less  fierce  from  the  utter  darkness  in 
which  it  was  enveloped.  It  is  not  easy  to  define  in 
what  consisted  their  implacable,  unforgiven  points  of 
difference.  If  each  combatant  had  been  compelled 
figidly  to  define  every  word  or  term  which  he  em- 
ployed, concord  might  not  perhaps  have  been  impossi- 
ble ;  but  words  were  their  warfare,  and  the  war  of 
words  their  business,  their  occupation,  their  glory. 
The  Conceptualism  or  Eclecticism  of  St.  Thomas 
(he  cannot  be  caUed  a  Nominalist)  admitted  so  much 

▼ine  k  U  volont^  humaine;  aassi  combat-il  de  toutes  sea  forces  cetto  usimi- 
latioD,  sans  r^nasir,  toatefois,  k  d^mSler  d'une  manidre  satlsfiuaante  ce  que 
c*e8t  la  d^tennination  temporelle  d'une  acte  ^ternelle.  —  Haarean,  p.  368. 
The  reader  who  may  be  carious  to  learn  how  Dans  Scotns  solves  other  im- 
portant physical  and  metaphysical  questions,  the  principle  of  motion,  the 
personality  and  immortality  of  the  soul,  will  do  well  to  read  the  chapters 
of  M.  Haareaa,  compared,  if  he  will,  with  the  heavier  synopsis  of  Brucker, 
the  neater  of  Tenneman,  the  more  fall  and  elaborate  examination  of  Ritter. 
Ritter  dwells  more  on  the  theological  and  ethical  part  of  the  system  of 
Duns  Scotos,  ifhom  he  ranks  not  only  as  the  most  acute  and  subtilest,  bat, 
as  should  seem,  the  highest  of  the  Schoolmen.  The  pages  in  which  be 
traces  the  theory  of  Sootus  respecting  the  means  by  which  our  knowledge 
is  acquired  an  moft  able,  and  full  of  interest  for  the  metaphysical  reader. 


CHAP.m.  SCOTISTS  AND  THOMISTS.  281 

Realism,  under  other  forms  of  speech  ;  the  Realism  of 
DiCns  Scotus  was  so  absolutely  a  Realism  of  words, 
reality  was  with  him  something  so  thin  and  unsubstan- 
tial ;  the  Augustinianism  of  St.  Thomas  was  so  guarded 
and  tempered  by  his  high  ethical  tone,  by  his  assertion 
of  the  loftiest  Christian  morality;  the  Pelagianism 
charged  against  Scotus  is  so  purely  metaphysical,  so 
balanced  by  his  constant,  for  him  vehement,  vindication 
of  Divine  grace, ^  only  with  notions  peculiar  to  his  phi- 
losophy, of  its  mode  of  operation,  and  with  almost  un- 
traceable distinctions  as  to  its  mode  of  influence,  that 
nothing  less  than  the  inveterate  pugnacity  of  Scholas- 
tic Teaching,  and  the  rivalry  of  the  two  Orders,  could 
have  perpetuated  the  strife.^  That  strife  was  no  doubt 
heightened  and  imbittered  by  their  real  differences, 
which  touched  the  most  sensitive  part  of  the  MediaBval 
Creed,  the  worship  of  the  "Virgin.  This  was  coldly 
and  irreverently  limited  by  the  refusal  of  the  Domini- 
can to  acknowledge  her  Immaculate  Conception  and 
birth ;  wrought  to  a  height  above  all  former  height  by 
the  passionate  maintenance  of  that  tenet  in  every  Fran- 
ciscan cloister,  by  every  Franciscan  Theologian. 

But,  afler  all,  the  mortal  enemy  of  the  Franciscan 

I  Ritter,  p.  359.  He  is  not  only  orthodox  on  this  point;  he  is  hierarchi- 
cal to  the  utmost.  He  adopts  the  phrase  ascribed  to  St.  Augustine,  that  he 
would  not  believe  the  Gospel  but  on  the  witness  of  the  Church.  The  power 
of  the  ke3r8  he  extends  not  only  to  temporal  but  to  eternal  punishments — 
doch  mit  dem  Zusatze,  dass  hierbei,  so  wie  in  andem  Dingen  der  Priester 
nur  als  Werkzeug  Gottes  handle,  welcber  selbst  eines  bosen  Engels  sich 
bedienen  konnte  um  einer  gultige  Taufe  zu  voUziehn.  —  Scotus  draws  a 
distinction  (he  saves  everything  by  a  distinction  which  his  subtilty  never 
fiuls  to  furnish)  between  the  absolute  and  secondary  will  of  God. 

>  Ritter  thinks  their  philosophy  vitally  oppugnant  (p.  364),  but  it  is  in 
reconciliilg  their  philosophy  with  the  same  orthodox  theology  that  they 
igain  approximate.  One  defines  away  necessity  till  it  ceases  to  be  necea- 
aitj,  the  other  fetters  free-will  till  it  ceases  to  be  free. 


282  •  LATIK  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

scholasticism' was  in  the  Franciscan  camp«  The  relig^ 
ious  mysticism  of  Bonaventura,  the .  high  orthodox 
subtilism  of  Duns  Scotus,  were  encountered  by  a  more 
WiiUMB  of  dangerous  antagonist.  The  schism  of  Fran* 
ockham.  ciscanism  was  propagated  into  its  philosophy; 
the  Fraticelli,  the  Spiritualists,  must  have  their  cham- 
pion in  the  Schools,  and  that  champion  in  ability  the 
equal  of  those  without  and  those  within  their  Order,  of 
Aquinas,  Bonaventura,  Duns  Scotus.  As  deep  in  the 
very  depths  of  metaphysics,  as  powerfiil  a  wielder  of 
the  g]*eat  arm  of  the  war,  Logic;  more  fearless  and 
peremptory  as  less  under  the  awe  of  the  Church  in  his 
conclusions  •> —  William  of  Ockham  had  already  shaken 
the  pillars  of  the  hierarchical  polity  by  his  audacious 
assertion  of  the  more  than  coequal  rights  of  the  tern* 
poral  Sovereign;  by  his  stem,  rigid  nominalism,  he 
struck  with  scholastic  arguments,  in  the  hardest  scho 
lastic  method,  at  the  foundations  of  the  Scholastic  Phi- 
losophy.  William  was  of  undistinguished  birth,  from 
the  village  of  Ockham,  in  Surrey  ;  he  entered  into  the 
Franciscan  order,  and  was  sent  to  study  theology  under 
Duns  Scotus  at  Paris.  The  quarrel  of  Boniikce  VIII. 
and  Philip  the  Fair  was  at  its  height.  How  deeply 
the  haughty  and  rapacious  Pope  had  injured  the  Fran- 
ciscan order,  especially  the  English  Franciscans,  has 
been  told.^  How  far  William  of  Ockham  was  then 
possessed  by  the  resentment  of  his  Order,  how  far  he 
had  inclined  to  the  extreme  Fi*anciscanism,  and  con- 
demned his  own  Order,  as  well  as  the  proud  Prelates 
of  the  Church,  for  their  avarice  of  wealth,  does  not 
clearly  appear.  He  took  up  boldly,  unreservedly,  to 
the  utmost  height,  the  rights  of  temporal  Sovereigns. 

1  See  vol.  ri.  p.  990. 


CBJif.  m.  WILUAM  OT  OGKHAM.  288 


In  his  Disputation  on  the  ecclesiastical  power  ^  he 
fiised  to  acknowledge  in  the  Pope  any  anthoritj  what- 
ever as  to  secular  affairs.  Jesus  Christ  himself,  as  far 
as  he  was  man,  as  far  as  he  was  a  sojourner  in  this 
mortal  world,  had  received  from  his  heavenly  Father 
no  commission  to  censure  Kings ;  the  partisans  of  the 
Papal  temporal  omnipotence  were  to  he  driven  as  here* 
tics  from  the  Church.  In  the  strife  of-  his  Order  with 
John  XXII.,  William  of  Ockham  is,  with  Michael  of 
Cesena  and  Bonagratia,  the  fearless  assertor  of  absolute 
poverty.^  These  men  confronted  the  Pope  in  his  pow- 
er, in  his  pride,  in  his  wealth.  The  Defence  of  Poverty 
by  William  of  Ockham  was  the  most  dauntless,  the 
most  severely  reasoned,  the  most  sternly  consequent, 
of  the  addresses  poured  forth  to  astonished  a.s.  1828. 
Christendom  by  these  daring  Revolutionists.  Pope 
John  commanded  the  Bishops  of  Fen*ara  and  Bologna 
to  examine  and  condemn  this  abominable  book.  Five 
years  after,  William  of  Ockham,  Michael  de  Cesena 
and  Bonagratia,  were  arraigned  at  Avignon,  and  in 
close  custody,  for  their  audacious  opinions.  William 
of  Ockham  might  already,  if  he  had  any  fear,  shudder 
at  the  stake  and  the  fire  in  which  had  perished  so  many 
of  his  brethren.  They  fled,  took  ship  at  Aigues  Mor- 
tes,  found  their  way  to  the  Court  of  Louis  of  Bavaria. 
They  were  condemned  by  the  Pope,  cast  off  by  their 
own  Order.  The  Order  at  the  Synod  of  Perpignan  re- 
nounced the  brotherhood  of  these  men,  who  denounced 
their  wealth  as  well  as  that  of  the  Pope,  and  would 
admit  nothing  less  than  absolute,  more  than  apostoHc 
poverty.     Their  sentence   was  that   of   heretics   and 

1  DiKpatatio  saper  potesUte  eccIeBiaaticft  piwlatis  atqne  principibas  temt- 
ram  commissft.  —  In  Goldastat  de  Monarchia.    Compare  Haareau,  p.  419. 
>  Apnd  Brown,  Faacicnlna. 


284  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

schismatics,  deprivation  of  all  privileges,  perpetual  im* 
prisonment.  But  William  of  Ockbam,  in  the  Court 
of  Louis,  at  Munich,  laughed  to  scorn  and  defied  their 
idle  terrors.  He  became  the  champion  of  the  Imperial 
rights,  of  the  Franciscan  Antipope,  Peter  of  Corbara. 
He  did  not  live  to  put  to  shame  by  his  firmer,  and  more 
resolute  resistance  to  the  Pope,  the  timid,  vacillating, 
yielding  Louis  of  Bavaria. 

William  of  Ockbam  was  in  philosophy  as  intrepid 
and  as  revolutionary  as  in  his  political  writings.  He  is 
a  consummate  schoolman  in  his  mastery,  as  in  his  use  of 
logic ;  a  man  who  wears  the  armour  of  his  age,  en- 
gages in  the  spirit  of  his  age,  in  the  controversies  of 
his  age ;  but  his  philosophy  is  that  of  centuries  later.^ 
The  scholastic  theologian  can  discuss  with  subtilty 
equal  to  the  subtilest,  whether  Angelic  natures  can  be 
circumscribed  in  a  certain  place ;  the  Immaculate  birth 
and  conception  of  the  Virgin,  on  which  he  is  faithfully 
Franciscan ;  Transubstantiation,  on  which  he  enters 
into  the  most  refined  distinctions,  yet  departs  not  firom 
the  dominant  doctrine.  As  a  philosopher  Ockbam  rev- 
erently secludes  the  Godhead^  from  his  investigation. 
Logic,  which  deals  with  finite  things,  must  not  presume 

1  Qaodlibeta.    Compare  Schroeckh.  xxxiv.  196-7. 

^  Quodlibet  ii.  quest  ii.  Haureau,  422.  — In  another  part  M.  Hanreaa 
sums  op  Ockbam*8  awful  reserve  on  the  notion  of  God  so  boldly  formed  by 
the  older  Schoolmen :  *^  C*est  pr^cis^ment  cette  notion  rationnelle  de  la  sub- 
stance divine  que  Guillaume  d'Ockham  critique  et  r^duit  k  un  concept  ar- 
bitrairement  compost ;  compost  de  concepts  qui  expriment  bien,  sans  doute, 
quelque  chose  de  Dieu  {aUquod  Dei,)  mais  ne  d^signent  pas  Dien  lni-m6me, 
la  substance,  Tessence  de  Dien,  quod  est  Detu  ....  cette  notion  abstraite 
de  Dieu,  cette  notion  qui,  on  le  prouve  bien,  ne  r^pr^sente  pas  son  objet,  est 
la  seule  que  possdde  la  raison  humoine,  la  seule  qui  lui  permet  de  soup^on- 
ner,  de  diviner,  de  poser  I'entit^  myst^rieuse  de  la  supreme  cause.  Faut-il 
desirer  une  connaissance  plus  paifaite  de  cette  cause?  Sans  ancun  donte; 
mais  en  attendant,  il  faut  8*en  tenir  k  ce  qu^il  salt"  —  p.  454.  See  also  tha 
preceding  pages. 


Chap.  IIL  HIS  PHILOSOPHY.  285 

to  discuss  the  Infinite  First  Cause.  He  at  once,  and 
remorselessly,  destroys  all  the  idols  of  the  former 
schoolmen.  Realism  must  surrender  all  her  multifa- 
rious essences,  her  abstract  virtues,  her  species,  her  ideas. 
Universals  are  but  modes  of  thought ;  even  the  phan- 
tasms of  Aquinas  must  disappear.  Ideas  are  no  longer 
things ;  they  are  the  acts  of  the  thinking  being.  Be- 
tween the  subject  which  knows  and  the  object  known 
there  is  nothing  intermediate.  The  mind  is  one,  with 
two  modes  or  faculties,  —  sensibility  and  intelligence. 
Sensation  is  not  sufficient  to  impart  knowledge  ;  there 
must  be  also  an  act  of  intelligence  :  the  former  is  pure-^ 
ly  intuitive,  the  latter  is,  as  it  were,  judicial.  The 
difference  between  the  sensitive  and  intelligent  is  thus 
partly  by  experience,  partly  by  reason.  By  experience, 
the  child  sees  through  sensation,  not  through  intelli- 
gence ;  by  reason,  because  the  soul,  when  separate, 
sees  intellectually,  but  not  through  the  senses.  The 
sensitive  vision  is  the  potential  cause  of  the  intellectual 
vision,  but  not  the  potential  cause  of  the  intellectual 
assent.  After  intuition  comes  abstraction,  sensation,  or 
the  intuitive  notion,  being  always  singular ;  abstrac- 
tion may,  as  it  were,  insulate  that  which  is  singular, 
disengaging  it  from  all  its  surrounding*  circumstances ; 
it  may  introduce  plurality,  combine,  compare,  multiply. 
Thus  ideas  are  simple  perceptions,  or  conceptions,  and 
so  not  only  fall  away  the  Democritean  notions  of  actual 
images  which  have  a  local  existence,  and  pass  from  the 
object  to  the  sense,  but  likewise  even  the  impressions, 
as  of  a  seal,  which  is  the  doctrine  of  Scotus,  and  the 
real  phantasms  of  St.  Thomas.^     Of  course  he  denies 

^  D^8  que  lea  id^es  ne  sont  plas  conaid^r^  comme  d^s  choses  mais  com- 
me  des  actes  da  Bujet  peoBant,  qae  de  chimdres  s^^vanouiAsent  I  —  p.  439. 


286  LATIN  CHMSTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

not  the  images  or  similitude  of  things  in  the  organ  of 
sight,  but  they  are  as  the  reflections  in  a  mirror :  thej 
do  not  precede  and  determine,  though  they  accompany 
the  sensation.  The  universal  is  but  a  conception  of 
the  mind ;  and  as  these  conceptions  are. formed  or  peiv 
petuated  by  these  processes,  each  is  the  repetition,  the 
reflection  of  the  other,  in  intelligence,  speech,  writing. 
Universals  are  words,  whether  conceived,  spoken,  or 
written  words,  which  by  common  consent  express  un- 
der one  term  many  singular  things,^  In  this  respect, 
then,  is  William  of  Ockham  a  Nominalist  in  the 
strongest  sense. 

Thus  may  William  of  Ockham  seem  with  fine  and 
prophetic  discrimination  to  have  assigned  their  >  proper, 
indispensable,  yet  limited  power  and  office  to  the 
senses;  to  have  vindicated  to  the  understanding  its 
higher,  separate,  independent  ftmction;  to  have  ai^ 
ticipated  the  fiimous  axiom  of  Leibnits,  that  there  is 
nothing  in  the  intellect  but  from  the  senses,  except 
the  intellect  itself;  to  have  anticipated  Hobbes ;  fei^ 
shadowed  Locke,  not  as  Locke  is  vulgarly  judged, 
according  to  his  later  French  disciples,  but  in  him- 
self;^ to  have  taken  his  stand  on  the  same  ground 
with  Kant.  What  Ab^lard  was  to  the  ancestors  cf 
the  Schoolmen  was  Ockham  to  the  Schoolmen  them- 
selves. The  Schoolmen  could  not  but  eventuate  in 
William  of  Ockham ;  the  united  stream  could  not  but 

1  '*  Est  .  .  .  UDivefMle,  vox  yd  acriptnui,  Mit  qoodcaaqiM  alind  signoM 
ex  meditatione  vel  voluntario  usa,  significans  plant  tingalaria  universe." 
Qaoted  in  Haureau,  p.  409. 

s  I  must  be  allowed  to  refer  to  tfa«  excellent  article  on  Locke  in  ICr.  Hri> 
lam'R  Literary  History;  and  to  a  veiy  elaborate  and  able  review  of  this 
groimdwork  of  Loclce^s  ptrilosophy  in  the  *  Edinburgh  Review,*  Imtoly  r»> 
pabliahed  among  the  Essays  by  Mi.  Rogen. 


m.         SCHOOL  OF  MASSILIUS  FICINUS.  287 

endeavor  to  work  itself  dear;  the  incessant  activity 
of  thought  could  hardly  fiul  to  call  forth  a  thinker 
like  Ockham. 

Snch  was  the  character  of  the  Scholastic  Philosophy, 
such  the  chief  of  the  scholastic  philosophers,  such  the 
final  assertion  and  vindication  of  the  sole  dominion 
of  Latin  Christianity  over  the  mind  of  man.  Between 
the  close  of  this  age,  but  before  the  birth  of  modem 
philosophy,  was  to  come  the  Platonizing,  half  Pagan- 
izing, school  of  Marsilius  Ficinus :  the  age  to  end  in 
direct  rebellion,  in  the  Italian  philosophers,  against 
Christianity  itself.  But  it  was  an  extraordinary  fact, 
that  in  such  an  age,  when  Latin  Christianity  might 
seem  at  the  height  of  its  mediaeval  splendor  and  power, 
the  age  of  chivalry,  of  Cathedral  and  Monastic  archi- 
tecture, of  poetry  in  its  romantic  and  religious  forma, 
so  many  powerful  intellects  should  be  so  incessantly 
busy  with  the  metaphysics  of  religion ;  religion,  not 
as  taught  by  authority,  but  religion  under  philosophic 
guidance,  with  the  aid,  they  might  presume  to  say 
with  the  servile,  the  compulsory  aid,  of  the  Pagan 
Aristotle  and  the  Mohammedan  Arabians,  but  still 
with  Aristotle  and  the  Arabians  admitted  to  the  honor 
of  a  hearing:  not  regarded  as  odious,  impious,  and 
godless,  but  listened  to  with  respect,  discussed  with 
freedom,  refuted  with  confessed  difficulty.  With  all 
its  seeming  outward  submission  to  authority.  Scholas- 
ticism at  last  was  a  tacit  universal  insurrection  against 
authority ;  it  was  the  swelling  of  the  ocean  before  the 
storm ;  it  began  to  assign  bounds  to  that  which  had 
been  the  universal  all-embracing  domain  of  Theology. 
It  was  a  sign  of  the  reawakening  life  of  the  human 
mind  that   Theologians   dared,  that   they  thought  it 


288  LATIN  CHBISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

their  privilege,  that  it  became  a  duty  to  philosophize. 
There  was  vast  waste  of  intellectual  labor;  but  stiO 
it  was  intellectual  labor.  Perhaps  at  no  time  in  the 
history  of  man  have  so  many  minds,  and  those  minds 
of  great  vigor  and  acuteness,  been  employed  on  sub- 
jects almost  purely  speculative.  Truth  was  the  ob- 
ject of  research  ;  truth,  it  is  true,  fenced  about  by  the 
strong  walls  of  authority  and  tradition,  but  still  the 
ultimate  remote  object.  Though  it  was  but  a  tram* 
melled  reluctant  liberty,  liberty  which  locked  again 
its  own  broken  fetters,  still  it  could  not  but  keep  alive 
and  perpetuate  the  desire  of  more  perfect,  more  ab- 
solute emancipation.  Philosophy  once  heard  could 
not  be  put  to  silence. 

One  man  alone,  Roger  Bacon,  even  in  his  own  day, 
had  stood  aloof,  from  this  all-absorbing  Theology,  this 
metaphysical  or  ontological  philosophy,  which,  with 
all  the  rest,  was  the  dominant  aim  of  all  profound  and 
rigidly  syllogistic  investigation  ;  the  primary,  if  not  ex- 
clusive subject-matter  of  all  the  vast  volumes,  in  which 
the  same  questions,  argued  in  the  same  forms,  revolved 
in  eternal  round.  Roger  Bacon  alone  sought  other 
knowledge,  and  by  other  processes  of  thought  and  rea- 
soning. Not  that  physical,  or  mathematical,  or  even 
experimental  sciences  were  absolutely  disdained  or  pro- 
scribed among  the  highest  Theologians :  they  were  pur 
sued  by  Albert  the  Great  with  the  ardor  of  his  all 
grasping  intellect.  But  with  Roger  Bacon  they  were 
the  predominant  master  studies.  Even  he,  on  his  side, 
could  not  withdraw  entirely  from  that  which  had  been 
so  long,  and  was  to  be  still,  so  exclusively  the  province 
of  all  human  thought,  which  must  occupy  it  more  or 
less.  Theology ;  but  the  others  were  manifestly  the  en- 


CBAP.m.  ROGER  BACON.  289 

grossing  pursuit^  the  passion,  as  far  as  such  men  are 
Capable  of  passion,  of  his  mind.  Tet  Latin  Christian- 
ity  can  hardly  lay  claim  to  the  glory,  whatever  that 
might  be,  of  Roger  Bacon.  The  Church,  which  could 
boast  her  Albert,  Aquinas,  Bonaventura,  Duns  Scotus, 
repudiated  Roger  Bacon  with  jealous  suspicion.  That 
which  is  his  fame  in  later  days,  heaped  on  him,  in  his 
own,  shame  and  persecution.  For  at  least  ten  years  he 
was  in  prison  ;  it  is  not  quite  clear  that  he  ever  emerged 
from  that  prison.  Yet,  though  he  has  no  proper  place, 
though  he  is  no  way  the  son  or  the  scholar  of  Latin 
Christianity,  still,  in  justice  to  the  rulers  in  Latin  Chris-* 
tendom,  as  well  as  characterizing  their  rule  (the  ex- 
ceptional man  often  throws  the  strongest  light  on  the 
times),  must  be  instituted  a  more  close,  yet  of  necessity 
rapid  investigation  into  the  extent  and  causes  of  the 
persecution  of  Roger  Bacon. 

At  Oxford,  his  first  place  of  study,  Roger  Bacon 
was  remarked  for  his  zeal  in  mathematical  so„^,^„^ 
and  scientific  studies.^  But  Paris  was  at  that  ^^' 
time  to  Transalpine  Christendom  what  Athens  was  to 
later  Rome.  Without  having  attended  lectures  at 
Paris,  no  one  could  aspire  to  learned,  or  philosophical, 
or  theological  eminence.  At  Paris  his  great  talent  and 
acquirements  obtained  him  the  name  of  the  '^  Wonder* 
fal  Doctor."  It  was  at  Paris  no  doubt  that  he  matured 
those  studies,  which  he  afterwards  developed  in  his 
"  Greater  Work."^  He  could  no't  but  excite  wonder ; 
doubtless  he  did  excite  more  than  wonder,  for  he  dared 

^  It  is  disputed  whether  at  Merton  College  or  Brazenose  Hall.  As  Bacon 
was  not  a  member  of  Merton  College,  according  to  the  ftshion  of  the  day 
lie  may  possibly  at  diflferent  times  have  lodged  both  in  one  and  in  the  other. 
The  halls  were  merely  places  of  residence  for  Scholan* 

<  The  Opus  Majos. 

VOL.  vm.  19 


290  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV, 

to  throw  off  entirely  the  bondage  of  the  Aristotelian 
logic.  When  he  judged  Aristotle,  it  should  seem,  onlj 
by  those  parts  of  his  works,  matured  in  the  Dialectics 
of  the  Schools,  he  would  have  been  the  Omar  of  Aris- 
totle ;  he  would  willingly  have  burned  all  his  books,  as 
wasting  time,  as  causes  of  error,  and  a  multiplication 
of  ignorance.^  But  Aristotle,  as  a  philosopher,  espe» 
cially  as  commented  by  Avicenna,  after  Aristotle  the 
prince  of  philosophers,  is  the  object  of  his  profound 
reverence.  The  studies  of  Roger  Bacon  embraced 
every  branch  of  physical  science,  Astronomy,  Optics, 
Mechanics,  Chemistry.  He  seems  even  to  have  had 
some  glimpses  of  that  which  has  first  grown  into  a 
science  in  our  own  day.  He  was  an  industrious  stu- 
dent of  all  languages,  Hebrew,  Greek,  Arabic,  the 
modem  tongues.  He  had  a  dim  notion  of  their  kin- 
dred and  filiation.  He  had  a  vision  of  a  Universal 
Grammar,  by  which  all  languages  were  to  be  learned 
in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time.*  In  Paris  his  fel- 
low-student was  the  famous  Robert  GrostSte :  the  inti- 

1 "  Si  haberem  potestatem  snper  libros  Aristotelia,  ego  fiicerem  omnes 
cremari,  qaia  non  est  nisi  temporis  amissio  studere  in  illis,  et  causa  eiroris, 
et  mnltiplicati  erroris."  See  on  the  translators  of  Aristotle,  Opns  Majna, 
quoted  by  Jebb  in  Pnefat.  i.  c.  viii. 

3  As  his  astronomy  sometimes  tampered  with  astrology,  his  cbemistrr 
degenerated  into  alchemy,  so  his  knowledge  of  languages  was  not  without 
what,  in  modem  times,  might  be  branded  as  charlatanism.  He  professed 
that,  according  to  his  Universal  Grammar,  he  could  impart  to  an  apt  and 
diligent  scholar  a  knowledge  of  Hebrew  in  three  days,  of  Greek  in  as  many 
more.  '*  Certnm  est  mihi  quod  intrii  tres  dies  quemcunque  diligentem  et 
confidentem  docerem  Hebreum  et  simnl  legere  et  intelligere  quicqnid  sane- 
ti  dicunt  et  sapientes  antiqui  in  expositione  sacri  textiis,  et  quicquid  perti- 
net  ad  illius  textiis  oorrectionem,  et  expositionem,  si  vellet  se  exercere  se- 
cundum doctrinam  doctam:  et  per  tres  dies  sciret  de  Gneco  iterum,  ut  non 
solum  sciret  legere  et  intelligere  quicquid  pertinet  ad  theologiam,  sed  ad 
philosophiam  et  ad  linguam  Latinam.**  —  Epist.  de  Laud.  S.  Script,  ad  P. 
Clement  IT.    Here  too  he  is  breaking  up  the  way  to  Biblical  critidam. 


CBAP.m.  AT  OXFORD.  291 

mate  friendship  of  such  a  man  could  not  but  commend 
him  to  the  favor  of  some  of  the  loftier  Churchmen. 
He  returned  to  Oxford,  and  in  an  evil  hour  took  the 
&tal  step  (it  is  said  by  the  advice  of  Grostete,  who  was 
iniatuated  with  the  yet  ardent  zeal  of  the  Franciscans) 
of  becoming  a  Franciscan  Friar.  Thus  he  became  not 
merely  subject  to  the  general  discipline  of  the  Church, 
but  to  the  narrower,  more  rigid,  more  suspicious  rule 
of  the  Order.^  It  was  difficult  for  a  man  of  great 
powers  to  escape  being  a  Dominican  or  Franciscan. 
The  Dominicans  were  severe  and  jealously  orthodox. 
The  Inquisition  was  intrusted  to  them  ;  but  they  had  a 
powerful  and  generous  corporate  spirit,  and  great  pride 
in  men  of  their  own  Order  who  showed  transcen- 
dent abilities.  The  Franciscan  Generals  were,  with 
the  exception  perhaps  of  John  of  Parma,  and  of  St. 
Bonaventura,  men  of  mean  talent,  of  contracted  and 
jealous  minds,  with  all  the  timidity  of  ignorance.^  The 
persecutor  of  Roger  Bacon  was  Jerome  of  Ascoli,  the 
General  of  his  own  Order ;  first  when  as  Cardinal  he 
was  aspiring  towards  the  steps  of  the  Papal  throne ; 
afterwards  when  he  ascended  that  throne  as  Nicolas 
IV.*  Nor  indeed  were  wanting  at  that  time  causes 
which  might  seem  to  justify  this  ungenerous  timidity 
in  the  Franciscans.  They  were  watched  with  the 
jealousy  of  hatred  by  the  Dominicans.  Masters  of  the 
Inquisition,  the  Dominicans  would  triumph  in  the  de- 

'  Acording  to  some  he  became  a  Franciscan  at  Paris. 

*  ^  Les  Franciscains,  toajours  gouvern^s,  si  Ton  excepte  Saint  Bonaven- 
tnra,  par  des  g^neraux  d'un  menu  talent  et  d*un  mediocre  savoir,  ne  se 
sentaient  qu'humili^s  de  la  presence  et  de  la  gloire  des  homines  de  m^ 
rite,  qai  s'^taient  ^gar^  parmi  eux."  —  M.  V.  de  Clerc,  Hist.  Lit.  de  la 
Fmnce,  xx.  p.  230. 

'  Jerome  d*A.scoIi  was  at  Paris,  the  probable  date  of  Bacon's  persecution 
in  1278.    I  cannot  but  doubt  the  date  usually  assigned  to  his  birth. 


292  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  HT. 

tection  of  Franciscan  heretics.  There  had  been  already 
the  first  rending  of  their  body  by  the  &tal  schism,  un- 
der John  of  Parma,  hardly  allayed  by  the  gentle  and 
commanding  rule  of  Bonaventura.  The  fierce  dem- 
ocratic Ghibellinism  was  even  now  fermenting  among 
them,  hereafter  to  break  out  in  the  Anti-Papal  writings 
of  William  of  Ockham.  Roger  Bacon  himself  might 
seem  disposed  to  tamper  with  perilous  politics.  On  his 
return  to  Oxford,  he  preached,  it  is  said,  before  King 
Henry  III.,  and  denounced,  in  no  measured  terms, 
the  employment  of  French  and  Gascon  Nobles  and 
Prelates  in  the  great  offices  of  State ;  the  prodigality 
of  the  King  towards  these  foreign  favorites ;  his  blind 
confidence  in  the  Bishop  of  Winchester;  his  placing 
foreign  Poitevins  in  possession  of  the  chief  forts  and 
strongholds  in  the  realm.  Even  in  his  own  Order, 
Roger  Bacon  is  said  to  have  shown  the  natural  con- 
tempt of  a  man  of  his  high  acquirements  for  the  igno- 
rance and  superstition  of  his  brethren  ;  to  have  let  fidl 
alarming  words  about  Reform  in  the  Franciscan  Con- 
vents. Yet  was  he  not  without  powerful  friends ;  Gro»- 
tdte,  of  Lincoln,  and,  after  GrostSte's  death,  men  at 
least  of  wealth  and  liberality.  He  is  reported  to  have 
received  at  Oxford  no  less  a  sum  than  2,000  Paris 
livres  for  books  and  instruments.  Even  the  Church  as 
yet  seemed  more  disposed  to  admire  and  to  honor,  than 
to  look  with  cold  suspicion  on  the  wonderiul  man.  Pope 
A.D.1286.  Clement  IV.  accepted  the  dedication  of  the 
Work  which  contained  all  the  great  principles  of  his 
philosophy ;  all  on  which  his  awe-struck  brethren  looked 
as  fearftd  magic.  He  received  the  work  itself  with 
some  instruments  invented  by  Bacon  to  illustrate  his 
experiments.    These  Bacon,  notwithstanding  the  direct 


Chaf.  m.  CLEMENT  lY.  298 

prohibition  of  the  Rulers  of  his  Order,  who  threatened 
him  with  the  forfeiture  of  his  book,  and  the  penalty 
of  confinement  on  bread  and  water,  if  he  ctement  it. 
dared  to  communicate  with  any  one  what  12^1268. 
might  be  his  unlawful  discoveries,^  despatched  through 
John  of  Paris  to  Borne.  Philosophy  was  thus  as  it 
were  entering  its  appeal  to  the  Pope.  Clement  IV. 
was  a  Frenchman  ;  no  doubt  knew  the  fame  of  Bacon 
at  Paris.  He  had  written  a  letter  to  Bacon  entreating 
the  communication  of  his  famous  wonders.  Bacon  had 
not  dared  to  answer  this  letter  till  Clement  was  on  the 
Papal  throne ;  and  even  the  Pope  himself  dared  not 
openly  to  receive  this  appeal  of  philosophy.  He  stip- 
ulated that  the  books  and  the  instruments  should  be 
sent  as  secretly  as  possible.^  For  the  ten  years  which 
followed  the  death  of  Clement  lY.,  Bacon  lived  an  ob-^ 
ject  of  wonder,  terror,  suspicion,  and  of  petty  ^  ^  ^288- 
persecution  by  his  envious  or  hi&  superstitious  ^^' 
brethren.  He  attempted  to  propitiate  Honorius  IV.  by 
a  treatise  on  ^^  The  Mitigation  of  the  Inconveniences  of 
Old  Age."^  At  the  close  of  these  ten  years,  came  to 
Paris,  as  Legate  from  Pope  Nicolas  III.,  Jerome  of 
Ascoli,  General  of  the  Franciscan  Order.  Jerome 
was  a  true  Franciscan  ;  and  before  him  the  Franciscans 
fomid  ready  audience  in  the  arraignment  of  that  fear- 
ful magician,  their  Brother.  It  is  singular  that  among 
the  specific  charges  was  that  of  undertaking  to  predict 

!> "  Sab  pnecepto  et  paen&  amissions  libri  et  jejunio  in  pane  et  aquA  plu- 
ribns  diebns,  prohibueront  eum  a  communicando  scriptum  aliquod  a  se  fac- 
tum cam  aliis  quibuscunqne/*  —  Opus  Majus,  MS.  Cott.  fol.  3. 

s^'Hoc  quanto  Becrotios  poteris,  facies.'*  —  Wadding,  Ann.  11,  p.  39i, 
quoted  in  an  eztremelj  good  article  on  Roger  Bacon  in  Didot>  new  Bio- 
graphie  Unirereelle,  which  has  avoided  or  corrected  many  erron  in  the  old 
biograpliies. 

•  Honorius  lY.  not  Nicolas  IT.    See  Hist.  Lit  de  la  France,  p.  833. 


294  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

future  events.  Bacon's  own  words  show  that  the 
charge,  however  puerile,  was  true  :  "  But  for  the  stu- 
pidity of  those  employed,  he  would  have  framed  astro- 
nomical tables,  which,  by  marking  the  times  when  the 
heavenly  bodies  were  in  the  same  positions  and  con- 
junctions, would  have  enabled  him  to  vaticinate  their 
influence  on  human  affairs."^  That  which  to  us  was 
the  rare  folly  of  a  wise  man,  to  his  own  age  was  the 
crime  of  a  wicked  one.  The  general  accusation  was 
iar  more  wide  and  indefinite,  and  from  its  indefiniteness 
more  terrible.  It  was  a  compact  with  the  Devil,  from 
whom  alone  he  had  obtained  his  wonderful  knowledge, 
and  wrought  his  wonderful  works.  In  vain  Bacon  sent 
out  his  contemptuous  and  defiant  treatise  on  the  nullity 
of  magic :  "  Because  things  are  above  your  shallow 
understandings,  you  immediately  declare  them  works 
of  the  Devil."  In  such  words  he  arraigns  not  the 
vulgar  alone :  ^^  Theologians  and  Canonists,  in  their 
ignorance,  abhor  these  things,  as  works  of  magic,  and 
unbecoming  a  Christian."  And  thus  the  philosopher 
spoke  against  his  whole  Order ;  and  before  a  Cardinal 
Legate,  a  Master  of  that  Order.  Roger  Bacon  was 
consigned  to  a  Monastic  dungeon  at  least  for  ten.  years ; 
and  as  it  is  not  likely  that  Jerome  of  Ascoli,  as  Pope, 
would  mitigate  the  rigor,  no  doubt  conscientiously  ex- 
ercised, most  probably  for  five  years  more,  till  the  close 

^  Throughout  Bacon*8  astrological  section  (read  from  p.  237),  the  facAT- 
en\y  bodies  act  entirely  through  their  physical  properties,  cold,  heat,  moist- 
nre,  drought  The  comet  causes  war  (he  attributes  the  wars  then  raging 
in  Europe  to  a  comet)  not  as  a  mere  arbitrary  sign,  nor  as  by  ma^c  influ- 
ence (all  this  he  rejects  as  anile  superstition),  but  as  by  its  intense  heat  In- 
flamiug  the  blood  and  passions  of  men.  It  is  an  exaggeration  (unphilo- 
eophical  enough)  of  the  influences  of  the  planetary  bodies,  and  the  powers 
of  human  observation  to  trace  their  effects,  but  very  different  from  what  it 
ordinarily  conceived  of  judicial  astrology. 


CHAP.m.  ROGER  BACON'S  DISCOVERIES.  295 

of  the  Pontificate  of  Nicolas  IV.  If  he  emerged  firom 
the  darkness  of  his  prison,  it  was  not  more  than  a  year 
before  his  death. 

The  value  and  extent  of  Roger  Bacon^s  scientific  dis- 
coveries, or  prophecies  of  discoveries,  how  far  his  own, 
or  derived  from  Arabian  sources,  belongs  rather  to  the 
history  of  philosophy  than  of  Latin  Christianity.  His 
astronomy  no  doubt  had  enabled  him  to  detect  the  error 
in  the  JuUan  year:  three  centuries  too  soon  he  pro- 
posed to  Clement  IV.  to  correct  the  Calendar  by  his 
Papal  authority :  but  I  presume  not  to  enter  further 
into  this  or  kindred  subjects.  In  Optics  his  admirers 
assert  that  he  had  found  out  many  remarkable  laws,  the 
principle  of  the  Telescope,  the  Refraction  of  Light,  the 
cause  of  the  Rainbow.  He  framed  burning-glasses  of 
considerable  magnitude.  Mechanics  were  among  his 
favorite  and  most  successful  studies.*  In  his  Chemis- 
try he  had  reached,  or  nearly  reached,  the  invention  of 
gunpowder :  it  is  more  certain  that  he  sought  the  phi- 
losopher's stone,  or  at  least  a  transmuting  elixir  with 
unlimited  powers.  There  are  passages  about  mounting 
in  the  air  without  wings,  and  self-moving  carriages, 
travelling  at  vast  speed  without  horses,  which  sound 
like  vaticinations  of  still  more  wonderful  things.  He 
had  no  doubt  discovered  the  cause  of  the  tides.  It  is 
for  others,  too,  to  decide  how  far  in  the  general  princi- 
ples of  his 'philosophy  he  had  anticipated  his  greater 
namesake,  or  whether  it  was  more  than  the  sympathy 
of  two  kindred  minds  working  on  the  same  subjects, 
which  led  to  some  singular  yet  very  possibly  fortui- 
tous coincidences  of  thought  and  expression.^     This, 

1  See  Mr.  Forster's  **  Mohammedanism  Unyeiled,"  and  Mr.  Hallam*s  ja- 
Ikious  remarks,  Lit.  Hist. 


296  LATIN   CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

however,  is  certain,  that  although  the  second  Bacon^a 
great  work,  as  addressed  to  Europe,  might  condescend 
to  the  Latin  form,  it  was  in  its  strong  copious  Teut(HKic 
English  that  it  wrought  its  revolution,  that  it  became 
the  great  fountain  of  English  thought,  of  English  sa- 
gacity, the  prelude  to  and  the  rule  of  English  scientific 
discovery. 

Roger  Bacon  has  rather  thrown  us  back  in  our  chro- 
nology to  the  age  of  the  older  Scholasticism ;  but  Scho- 
lasticism ruled  supreme  almost  to  the  close  of  exclusive 
Latin  Christianity ;  it  expired  only  by  degrees ;  its 
bonds  were  loosened,  but  not  cast  off:  if  its  forma 
had  given  place  to  others  more  easy,  natural,  rhetor- 
ical, its  modes  of  thought,  its  processes  of  ratiocination, 
its  logic,  and  its  definitions,  still  swathed  the  dead  body 
of  Christian  Theology.  Gerson  was  still  in  a  great 
degree  a  schoolman,  Wycliffe  himself  at  Oxford  was 
a  schoolman.  But  Latin  Christianity  was  not  all 
scholastic  theology,  it  was  religion  also;  it  did  not 
altogether  forget  to  be  piety,  holiness,  charity ;  it  was 
not  content  with  its  laborious  endeavors  to  enlightea 
the  mind ;  it  knew  still  that  the  heart  was  its  proper 
domain.  The  religious  feelings,  the  religious  affec- 
tions, the  religious  emotions,  were  not  abandoned  for 
the  eternal  syllogisms  of  the  schools,  the  interminable 
process  of  twenty-fold  assertion,  twenty-fold  objection, 
twenty-fold  conclusion.  It  was  not  enough  that  the 
human  intelligence  should  be  taught  that  it  was  an 
efflux,  a  part  of  the  Divine  intelligence.  Nor  was  the 
higher  office  of  training  the  soul  of  man  to  commun- 
ion with  Christ  by  faith,  purity,  and  love,  altogether 
left  to  what  may  be  called  Scholastic  Mysticism.  In 
one  remarkable  book  was  gathered  and  concentred  all 


Cbap.IU.  D£  IMITATIONE  CUHISTI.  297 

that  was  elevating,  passionate,  profoundly  pious,  in  all 
the  older  mystics.  Gerson,  Rysbroek,  Tanler,  all  who 
addressed  the  heart  in  later  times,  were  summed  up, 
and  brought  into  one  circle  of  light  and  imitation 
heat,  in  the  single  small  volume,  the  "  Imi- ^  ^^'***- 
tation  of  Christ."  That  this  book  supplied  some  im- 
perious want  in  the  Christianity  of  mankind,  that  it 
supplied  it  with  a  fulness  and  felicity,  which  left  noth- 
ing, at  this  period  of  Christianity,  to  be  desired,  its 
boundless  popularity  is  the  one  unanswerable  testi- 
mony. No  book  has  been  so  often  reprinted,  no  book 
has  been  so  often  translated,  or  into  so  many  languages, 
as  the  ^^ Imitation  of  Christ."^  The  mystery  of  its 
authorship  as  in  other  cases  might  have  added  to  its 
fitme  and  circulation  ;  but  that  mystery  was  not  wanted 
in  regard  to  the  ^'  Imitation."  Who  was  the  author 
—  Italian,  German,  French,  Fleming  ?2  With  each 
of  these  races  it  is  taken  up  as  a  question  of  national 
▼anity.  Was  it  the  work  of  Priest,  Canon,  Monk  ? 
This,  too,  in  former  times,  was  debated  with  the  eager- 
ness of  rival  Orders.*  *  The  size  of  the  book,  the  nian- 

^  According  to  M.  Michelet  (whose  rhapsody,  as  usual,  contains  much 
which  is  striking  truth,  much  of  his  peculiar  sentimentalism)  there  are 
mztj  traoslationa  into  French ;  in  nome  respects  he  thinks  the  French  trans- 
hition,  the  **  Consolation/'  more  piou<(  and  touching  than  the  original. 

^  Italian,  French,  German  idioms  have  been  detected. 

•  Several  recent  writers,  especially  M.  On^sime  Roy,  "  Etudes  sur  les 
Mynt^res,*'  have  thought  that  they  have  proved  it  to  be  by  the  famous  Gerson. 
If  any  judgment  is  to  be  formed  from  Gerson's  other  writings,  the  internal 
eridencc  is  conclussive  against  him.  M.  Michelet  has  some  quotations  from 
Thomas  h  Kempis,  the  anthor  at  least  of  a  tliick  volume  published  under 
that  name,  which  might  seem  equally  to  endanger  his  claim.  But  to  me, 
though  inferior,  the  other  devotional  works  there  ascribed  to  Thomas  k 
Kempis,  the  Soliloquium  Anims,  the  Hortulus  Rosarum,  and  Vallis  Lilium, 
even  the  Sermons,  if  not  quite  so  pare,  are  more  than  kindred,  absolutely 
the  same,  in  thought  and  language  and  style.  See  the  Opera  T.  k  Kempis: 
Antwerp,  1515. 


298  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

ner,  the  style,  the  arrangement,  as  well  as  its  profound 
sympathy  with  all  the  religious  feelings,  wants,  and 
passions ;  its  vivid  and  natural  expressions,  to  monas- 
tic Christianity  what  the  Hebrew  Psalms  are  to  our 
common  religion,  to  our  common  Christianity ;  its 
contagious  piety;  all  conspii*ed  to  its  universal  dis- 
semination, its  universal  use.  This  one  little  volume 
contained  in  its  few  pages  the  whole  essence  of  the 
St.  Victors,  of  Bonaventura  without  his  Franciscan 
{)eculiarities,  and  of  the  later  mystic  school.  Yet  it 
might  be  easily  held  in  the  hand,  carried  about  where 
no  other  book  was  borne, — in  the  narrow  cell  or  cham- 
ber, on  the  journey,  into  the  solitude,  among  the  crowd 
and  throng  of  men,  in  the  prison.  Its  manner,  its 
short,  quivering  sentences,  which  went  at  once  to  the 
heart ;  and  laid  hold  of  and  clung  tenaciously  to  the 
memory  with  the  compression  and  completeness  of 
proverbs ;  ^  its  axioms,  each  of  which  suggested  end- 
less thought ;  its  imagery,  scriptural  and  simple,  were 
alike  original,  unique.  The  style  is  ecclesiastical  Latin, 
but  the  perfection  of  ecclesiastical  Latin  —  brief,  preg- 
nant, picturesque  ;  expressing  profound  thoughts  in  the 
fewest  words,  and  those  words,  if  compared  with  the 
scholastics,  of  purer  Latin  sound  or  construction.  The 
facility  with  which  it  passed  into  all  other  languages, 
those  especially  of  Roman  descent,  bears  witness  to  its 
perspicuitj',  vivacity,  and  energy.  Its  arrangement  has 
something  of  the  consecutive  progress  of  an  ancient  in- 
itiation ;  it  has  its  commencement,  its  middle,  and  its 
close ;    discriminating  yet  leading   up  the   student  in 

1  It  is  niiigular  how  it  almost  escapes  or  avoids  tliat  fatal  ▼ulgariam  of 
most  mystic  works,  metaphors  taken  from  oar  lower  senses,  the  taste,  the 
tooch. 


Chap.  in.  DE  IMITATIONE  CHRIST!.  299 

constant  ascent ;  it  is  an  epopee  of  the  internal  history 
of  the  human  soul. 

The  "  Imitation  of  Christ "  both  advanced  and  ar- 
rested the  development  of  Teutonic  Christianity ;  it 
was  prophetic  of  its  approach,  as  showing  what  was 
demanded  of  the  human  son),  and  as  endeavoring,  in 
its  own  way,  to  supply  that  imperative  necessity ;  yet 
by  its  deficiency,  as  a  manual  of  universal  religion,  of 
eternal  Christianity,  it  showed  as  clearly  that  the  hu- 
man mind,  the  human  heart,  could  not  rest  in  the  Imi- 
tation. It  acknowledged,  it  endeavored  to  fill  up  the 
void  of  personal  religion.  The  Imitation  is  the  soul 
of  man  working  out  its  own  salvation,  with  hardly  any 
aid  but  the  confessed  necessity  of  divine  grace.  It 
may  be  because  it  is  the  work  of  an  ecclesiastic,  a 
priest  or  monk,  but,  with  the  exception  of  the  exhorta- 
tion to  frequent  communion,  there  is  nothing  whatever 
of  sacerdotal  intervention  :  all  is  the  act,  the  obedience, 
the  aspiration,  the  self-purification,  self-exaltation  of 
the  soul.  It  is  the  Confessional  in  which  the  soul  con- 
fesses to  itself,  absolves  itself;  it  is  the  Direction  by 
whose  sole  guidance  the  soul  directs  itself.  The  Book 
absolutely  and  entirely  supersedes  and  supplies  the 
place  of  the  spiritual  teacher,  the  spiritual  guide,  the 
spiritual  comforter :  it  is  itself  that  teacher,  guide,  com- 
forter. No  manual  of  Teutonic  devotion  is  more  ab- 
solutely sufficient.  According  to  its  notion  of  Christian 
perfection.  Christian  perfection  is  attainable  by  its  study, 
and  by  the  performance  of  its  precepts  :  the  soul  needs 
no  other  mediator,  at  least  no  earthly  mediator,  for  its 
union  with  the  Lord. 

But  "  The  Imitation  of  Christ,"  the  last  efibrt  of 
Latju  Christianity,  is  still  monastic  Christianity.     It  is 


800  LATOr  GHSISTIANrrT.  Book  ZIT. 

absolatdj  and  entirely  selfish  in  its  aim,  as  in  its  acts. 
Its  sole,  single,  exclusive  object,  is  the  purification,  the 
elevation  of  the  individual  soul,  of  the  man  absolutely 
isolated  from  his  kind,  of  the  man  dwelling  alone  in  the 
solitude,  in  the  hermitage  of  his  own  thoughts ;  with 
no  fears  or  hopes,  no  sympathies  of  our  common  na- 
ture :  be  has  absolutely  withdrawn  and  secluded  hin^- 
self  not  only  firom  the  cares,  the  sins,  the  trials,  but  from 
the  duties,  the  connections,  the  moral  and  religious  fate 
of  the  world.  Never  was  misnomer  so  glaring,  if  just- 
ly considered,  as  the  title  of  the  book,  the  ^^  Imitation  of 
Christ."  That  which  distinguishes  Christ,  that  which 
distingubhes  Christ's  Apostles,  tbat  which  distinguishes 
Christ's  religion  —  the  Love  of  Man  —  is  entirely  and 
absolutely  left  out  Had  this  been  the  whole  of  Chris- 
tianity, our  Lord  himself  (with  reverence  be  it  said} 
had  lived,  like  an  Essene,  working  out  or  displajring  his 
own  sinless  perfection  by  the  Dead  Sea :  neither  on  the 
Mount,  nor  in  the  Temple,  nor  even  on  the  Cross. 
The  Apostles  had  dwelt  entirely  on  the  internal  emo- 
tions of  their  own  souls,  each  by  himself,  St.  Peter  still 
by  the  Lake  of  Gennesareth,  St.  Paul  in  the  desert  of 
Arabia,  St.  John  in  Patmos.  Christianity  had  been 
without  any  exquisite  precept  for  the  purity,  the  happi- 
ness of  social  or  domestic  life ;  without  self-sacrifice  for 
the  good  of  others ;  without  the  higher  Christian  pa- 
triotism, devotion  on  evangelic  principles  to  the  public 
weal ;  without  even  the  dev*otion  of  the  missionary  for 
the  dissemination  of  Gospel  truth  ;  without  the  hum- 
bler and  gentler  daily  self^acrifice  for  relatives,  for  the 
wife,  the  parent,  the  child.  Christianity  had  never 
soared  to  be  the  civilizer  of  the  world.  "Let  the 
world  perish,  so  the  single  soul  can  escape  on  its  soli- 


Chap.  in.  DE  DQTATIONE  CHBISTI.  801 

tary  plank  from  the  general  wreck,"  such  had  been  its 
—  terminates  in  self.  The  simple  exemplary  sentence, 
final  axiom.  The  "  Imitation  of  Christ "  begins  in  self 
**  He  went  about  doing  good,"  is  wanting  in  the  mo- 
nastic gospel  of  this  pious  zealot.  Of  feeding  the  hun- 
gry, of  clothing  the  naked,  of  visiting  the  prisoner, 
even  of  preaching,  there  is  profound,  total  silence. 
The  world  is  dead  to  the  votary  of  the  Imitation,  and 
he  is  dead  to  the  world,  dead  in  a  sense  absolutely  re- 
pudiated by  the  first  vital  principles  of  the  Christian 
fiuth.  Christianity,  to  be  herself  again,  must  not  mere- 
ly shake  off  indignantly  the  barbarism,  the  vices,  but 
even  the  virtues  of  the  Mediaeval  of  Monastic,  of  Latin 
Christianity. 


302  LATIN  CHBISTIANITT.  BookXIY. 


CHAPTER  IV. 

CHRISTIAN  LATIN  POETRY.    HISTORY. 

What  did  Latin  Christianity  add  to  the  treasures  of 
Latin  poetry  ?  Poetry,  as  in  Greece,  may  have  its  dis- 
tinct epochs  in  different  forms,  but  it  rarely,  if  ever, 
renews  its  youth.  ^  Hardly  more  than  half  a  century 
contains  all  that  is  of  tbe  highest  order  in  Latin  poetry 
—  Lucretius,  Catullus,  Virgil,  Horace,  the  Elegiacs, 
Ovid.  Even  that  noble  declamatory  verse,  which  in 
the  best  passages  of  Lucan,  in  Juvenal,  and  even  in 
Claudian  (this,  with  the  philosophic  and  didactic  poe- 
try, Lucretius,  Virgil,  and  the  exquisite  poetry  of  com- 
mon sense  and  common  life  in  Horace,  the  only  indi- 
genous poetry  of  Rome),  dies  feebly  out  in  the  triumph 
of  Christianity  over  Heathenism,  as  celebrated  by  Pru- 
dentius  in  his  book  against  Symmachus. 

The  three  earlier  forms  of  Christian  Latin  poetry 
chrtotfon  were  —  I.  Paraphrases  of  the  Scripture,  II. 
Pamphiues.'  Legends  of  Saints,  and  III.  Hymns,  with  a 
few  controversial  poems,  like  that  of  St.  Prosper  on 
Pelagianism.     1.  In  the  Scriptural  Poems  the  life  and 

I  It  has  done  so  besides  in  Greece,  in  England  alone,  hardly  in  Ifcalr,  un- 
less Alfieri  be  admitted  to  make  a  third  Epoch,  with  Dante  and  Petrardi, 
with  Ariosto  and  Tasso.  Spain  has  had  bat  one,  that  of  Lope,  Cen^antes 
and  Calderon ;  Germany  bat  one,  and  that  a  late  one,  of  Schiller  and  Goe- 
the. The  most  striking  parallel  is  in  India,  of  the  vast  Epics,  the  Maha- 
barata  and  Ramayana,  of  the  Drama  of  Calidasa,  of  the  Lyric  Gita  Govinda. 


Chap.  IV.  LATIN  SCRIPTURAL  POETRY.  803 

energy  of  the  biblical  annalists  or  poets  are  beaten  out 
to  pleonastic  and  wearisome  length  ;  the  antithetic  or 
parallelistic  form  of  the  Hebrew  poetry  is  entirely  lost ; 
the  uncongenial  Orientalism  of  t|;iought  and  imagery 
will  not  submit  to  the  hard  inirolutions  of  the  Latin : 
it  dislocates  the  harmony  of  the  verse,  if  verse  still  re- 
tains or  strives  after  harmony,  without  giving  its  own 
rude  strength  or  emphatic  force.  The  Vulgate  alone, 
by  creating  almost  a  new  language,  has  naturalized  the 
biblical  thoughts  and  figures,  which  obstinately  refuse 
to  be  bound  in  the  fetters  of  the  Latin  Hexameter. 
The  infallible  poetic  sentiment  of  mankind  will  still  re- 
fuse the  name  of  poetry  to  the  prolix,  though  occasion- 
ally vigorous,  versifications  of  Fortunatus,  Juvencus, 
Sedulius,  Arator,  Avitus,  and  the  rest.  As  to  the  old 
voyager  in  the  vast  interminable  ocean,  if  he  beheld  on 
some  dreary  mass  of  rock  a  patch  of  brilliant  green,  a 
tuft  of  graceful  trees,  a  cool  rush  of  water,  it  became  a 
paradise  —  a  Tinian  or  a  Juan  Fernandez  —  and  is 
described  as  one  of  the  Elysian  islands :  so  the  curious 
reader,  if,  on  travereing  these  endless  poems,  he  discov- 
ers some  lines  more  musical,  some  images  more  happily 
embodied  in  words,  some  finer  or  more  tender  thoughts 
expressed  not  without  nature,  he  bursts  out  into  rap- 
ture, and  announces  a  deep  mine  of  rich  and  forgotten 
poetry.  The  high-wrought  expectations  of  the  next 
visitants  revenge  their  disappointment  by  exaggerating 
perhaps  the  dreariness  and  the  barrenness.^     In  these 

1  Even  M.  Guizot,  in  his  Lectures  on  Civilization,  cites  passages  from 
these  authors,  with  praise,  as  it  seems  to  me,  far  beyond  their  due.  They 
are  pre-Miltonic,  as  he  asserts,  in  some  of  their  thoughts,  in  pome  of  their 
imagery,  that  is,  they  are  drawn  from  the  same  sources ;  but  what  they 
want  is,  what  Milton  has  given  them,  Poetry.  So  too  M.  Ampere  in  his 
valuable  Lectures.    The  passage  which  I  have  quoted  from  Dracontius  the 


304  LATIN   CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XHT. 

poems  creative  power  there  is  and  can  be  none :  inven* 
tion  had  been  a  kind  of  sacrilege.  The  Hebrew  poe- 
try, in  the  coldest  and  most  artificial  translarion,  pre- 
serves something  of  its  life  and  sententious  vigor,  its 
bold  figures  and  imagery :  in  the  many-folded  shroud 
of  the  Latin  poetic  paraphrase  it  is  a  mummy. 

The  Epic  Poetry  of  Latin  Christianity  (I  feel  the 
abuse  of  the  words)  had  done  its  work  of  paraphrase, 
or  had  nearly  exhausted  itself  in  a  few  centuries  ;  but 
if  it  sunk  almost 'into  silence  from  the  fifth  to  the 
eighth,  it  rose  again  more  ambitious,  and  seized  the 
office  of  the  historian,  or  that  which  had  been  the  sole 
function  of  the  humble  orator  under  the  later  empire, 
that  of  the  panegyrist.  Hardly  a  great  historic  event 
took  place,  hardly  a  great  man  ascended  a  throne  or 
achieved  fame,  but  some  monkish  versifier  aspired  to 
immortalize  him  with  an  interminable  length  of  harsh 
hexameter  or  of  elegiac  verse.  Charlemagne  indeed 
was  mostly  reserved  for  later  romance,  and  happily  had 
his  historian  Eginhard.  But  Louis  the  Pious  was  cele- 
brated- by  Ermoldus  Nigellus  in  a  long  poem  in  el^iac 
verse  ;  the  siege  of  Paris  by  the  Normans  was  sung  ib 
hexameters  by  Abbo ;  the  anonymous  panegyrist  en- 
deavored to  raise  the  Italian  Berengar  into  a  hero; 
Hroswitha  wrote  of  the  deeds  of  the  Emperor  Otho ; 
Gunther,  the  Ligurian,  those  of  Barbarossa ;  Donizo, 
the  Countess  Matilda,  from  whom  was  inseparable  the 
great  name  of  Gregory  VIL  William  the  Apulian 
described  the  conquests  of  the  Normans ;  William  of 

SfMoiard,  in  the  History  of  Christisnity  (iii  p.  470),  still  sppean  to  me  the 
mottt  favorable  example  which  has  occurred  in  the  coarse  of  my  reading: 
and  I  haw  toilsomely  read  much  of  that  age.  To  me  they  are  inferior  m 
Christian  Latin  Poetry  to  Sanazzaro  or  Vida  and  to  some  of  the  Jesoits, 
who  are  at  least  correct,  animated,  harmonioua 


Chaf.  IV.  LATER  LATIN  POETRY.  805 

Brittany,  Philip  Augustas ;  and  so  in  unexhausted  suc- 
cession to  the  Cardinal  Poet  of  CGelestine  V.  and  Bon- 
ifiice  YIII.  But  from  all  those  historical  poems,  who 
has  yet  struck  out  for  our  admiration  one  passage  of 
genuine  poetry?  Perhaps  their  great  merit  is  their 
want  of  poetry :  they  can  lie  under  no  suspicion  of 
invention,  hardly  of  poetic  embellishment:  they  are 
simply  verse  chronicles,  as  veracious  as  the  works  of 
the  contemporary  prose  historians  of  the  cloister. 

Nor  were  these  inexhaustible  and  inde&tigable  writ- 
ers in  Latin  verse  content  with  the  domain  of  Lat«LMia 
history,  or  the  reward  of  the  panegyrical  ora-  '~°**' 
tor.  They  seized  and  petrified,  either  for  their  amuse- 
ment, or  as  a  trial  of  skill,  or  for  the  solace  and  enter- 
tainment of  their  brother  Monks,  the  old  traditional 
Grerman  poetry,  the  &bulous  histories,  the  initiatory 
romances,  which,  in  their  rude  vernacular  form  and 
language,  began  to  make  themselves  heard.  What  the 
Court  or  the  Castle  Hall  listened  to  in  the  Lay  or 
the  Tale  of  the  Wandering  Minstrel,  was  heard  in  the 
Cloister  in  a  Latin  version.  The  Monks  converted  to 
their  own  use,  perhaps  supposed  that  they  were  sav- 
ing from  destruction,  by  transferring  into  imperishable 
Latin,  the  fleeting  or  expiring  songs,  which  became  the 
Niebelungen  and  the  Heldenbuch.  Such  doubtless  was 
the  origin  of  the  remarkable  poem  called  Waltharius, 
or  the  expedition  of  Attila,  founded  on  the  Legends  of 
Dietrich,  Siegfried,  and  Etzel.  But  even  in  this  very 
curious  work  it  is  remarkable  that,  although  the  innate 
poetry  of  the  subject  has  given  more  than  usual  anima- 
tion to  the  monkish  versifier,  yet  the  prosaic  and  his- 
toric element  predominates.  The  cloister  poet  labors 
to  make  that  history  which  is  pure  mythic  romance ; 

VOL.  via.  90 


806  LATIN  CHRIgTIANmr.  BooE  XIV. 

the  wild  song  is  hardened  into  a  chronicle.^  The  epic 
of  John  of  Exeter,  on  the  War  of  Troy  (as  no  doobt 
his  lost  Antiocheis),  is,  in  verse,  the  romance  histofj 
prevalent  under  the  authority  of  Dictys  Cretensis  and 
Dares  Phrygius,  during  the  Middle  Ages.^  With  other 
Poems  of  that  class,  it  mingles  in  discordant  confusion 
the  wild  adventures  of  the  romance  writers,  the  long 
desultory  tales  and  luxuriant  descriptions  of  the  Troo- 
vdres,  with  the  classical  form  of  verse.  Thwraghout  it 
is  the  Monk  vainly  laboring  to  be  the  Bard  ;  it  is  pop- 
ular poetry  cast  in  a  form  most  remote  from  popularity, 
not  only  in  a  language,  but  in  an  artificial  mould,  which 
unfitted  it  for  general  acceptance.  It  was  in  truth  the 
popular  poetry  of  a  small  class,  the  more  learned  of 
the  clergy  and  the  Monk  :  the  unlearned  of  that  class 
must  still  have  sought,  and  did  seek,  with  the  lay  vul- 
gar, their  poetic  enjoyment  from  the  vernacular  min- 
strel or  Trouvere.  Latinized,  it  was,  as  they  no  doubt 
thought,  chastened  and  elevated  for  their  more  pious 
and  fastidious  ears.  Latin  verse  condescended  to  this 
humbler  office,  little  suspecting  that  these  pc^ular  songs 
contained  elements  of  the  true  poetic  spirit,  which 
would  throw  all  the  Latin  epics  of  the  Middle  Ages  into 
irretrievable  obscurity.  Nothing  indeed  could  escape 
these  all-appropriating  indefatigable  versifiere  of  the 
cloister.  Almost  all  the  vernacular  poetry  of  the  Mid- 
dle Ages  has  its  Latin  counter-type,  poems  of  chivalry, 

^  De  Expeditione  AttileBf  edited  hy  FincheTf  Leipsic,  17S0:  and  later  bj 
Grimm  and  Schmeller,  Gottingen,  1838.  Compare  Gervinns,  Geschichte 
der  poetischen  Nat.  Lit.  der  Deutschen,  i.  p.  99  et  geq. 

s  Walton,  in  his  History  of  English  Poetry,  girea  some  spirited  yenea 
fipom  John  of  Exeter.  The  poem  may  be  read  (it  ia  hard  reading)  snb- 
joined  to  the  edition  of  Dictys  Cretensis  and  Dares  Phrygias.  Amsterdam, 
170S. 


Chap.  IV.  LIVES  OF  THE  SAINTS.  807 

poems  of  adventure,  of  course  Saint-Legends,  even  the 
long  fables,  which  the  Germans  call  beast-poetry,  and 
the  amatory  songs.  The  Latin  version  of  Reynard  the 
Fox  ^  has  not  been  able,  in  the  harsh  and  uncongenial 
form  of  Monkish  elegiac  verse,  altogether  to  quench 
the  drollery  of  the  original.  It  is  written  by  a  man 
with  a  singular  mastery  over  the  barbarous  but  expres- 
sive Latin  of  his  day,  of  extraordinary  ingenuity  in 
finding  apt  and  fitting  phrases  for  all  the  strange  no- 
tions and  combinations  in  this  bestial  allegory.  Bat 
"  Renardus  Vulpes  "  is  manifestly  of  a  late  period  ;  it 
is  a  bitter  satire  on  Monks  and  Monkery.  The  Wolf 
Isengrim  is  an  Abbot:  it  contains  passages  violently 
and  coarsely  Antipapal.^  It  belongs,  the  Latin  ver- 
sion at  least,  rather  perhaps  to  the  class  of  satiric  than 
of  epic  Latin  poetry. 

On  the  whole,  this  vast  mass  of  Latin  poetry  ofiers 
no  one  exception  to  the  eternal  irrepealable  law,  that 
no  great  poet  is  inspired  but  in  his  native  language. 
The  Crusades  were,  perhaps  happily,  too  late  even  to 
tempt  the  ambition  of  the  Cloister  poets.  By  that 
time,  the  art  of  Latin  versification,  if  not  lost,  was  not 
so  common  :  the  innate  poetry  of  the  subject  breaks 
occasionally  through  the  barbarous  but  spirited  prose 
of  William  of  Tyre  and  James  de  Vitry. 

II.  The  poems  on  the  Lives  of  the  Saints,  it  might 
have  been  supposed,  as  treating  on  subjects  ^^^  ^f  ^i^g 
in  which  the  mythic  and  imaginative  element  ^^^^' 

^  Renardoa  Vulpes.  Editio  Princepe.  Edited  by  M.  Mone.  Stuttgard 
et  Tabmg»,  1832. 

3  This  alone  would  confute  (if  confutation  were  necessary)  the  theory  of 
Ili0  editor  M.  Mone,  who  attributes  the  aim  of  the  Satire  to  certain  obscure 
personages  in  an  obscure  but  early  period  in  the  history  of  Flemish  Gaul. 
Kote,  p.  1,  el  seq.  The  Flemish  origin  of  the  poem  seems  now  proved,  but 
the  original  was  clearly  Teutonic,  not  Latin.  . 


308  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

of  Christianity  predominated,  would  at  least  display 
more  freedom  and  originality.  They  were  addressed 
to  the  higher  emotions,  which  poetry  delights  to  waken, 
wonder,  sympathy,  veneration,  pity  ;  they  were  legends 
in  which  noble  men  and  beautiful  women,  Saints  and 
Holy  Virgins,  were  at  issue  with  power,  with  cruelty, 
with  fate.  The  new  poetic  machinery  of  Angels  and 
Devils  was  at  the  command  of  the  poet ;  the  excited 
faith  of  the  hearers  was  ready  to  accept  fiction  for 
truth ;  to  believe  the  creation  of  the  poet  with  unsus- 
pecting belief.  But  legend  only  reluctantly  and  un- 
graciously submitted  to  the  fetters  of  Latin  verse  ;  the 
artificial  form  seemed  to  dull  the  inspiration.  Even  in 
the  earliest  period,  the  Saint-Poems  and  the  Martyr- 
doms (except  perhaps  some  pleasing  descriptions  in 
Paulinus  of  Nola)  are,  in  my  judgment,  far  inferior, 
even  in  poetic  merit,  to  the  prose  legends.  I  know 
nothing  equal  to  the  Martyrs  of  Vienne,  or  the  Per- 
petua  and  Felicitas,  even  in  the  best  of  Prudentius, 
who  is  in  general  insufferably  long,  and  suffocates  all 
which  is  noble  or  touching  (and  there  is  much  of  both} 
with  his  fatal  copiousness.  In  later  times  the  lives  of 
St.  Boniface,  St.  Gall,  and  St.  Anschar  have  more  of 
the  imaginative  tone  of  poetry  than  the  hard  harsh 
verses  of  the  period.  I  should  almost  say  that  the 
Golden  Legend  awakens  more  of  the  emotion  of 
poetry  than  any  of  the  poetic  lives  of  the  mediaeval 
Saints. 

III.  Even  in  the  Hymnology  ^  of  the  Latin  Church, 
her  lyric  poetry,  it  is  remarkable,  that,  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  Te  Deum,  those  hymns,  which  have  struck, 

I  Compare  Thesaaros  Hymnologicns.    H.  A.  Daniel.    Hales,  1S41.    A 
oopioos  and  excellent  collection. 


Chap.  IV.  HTMNOLOGT.  809 

as  it  were,  and  cloven  to  the  universal  heart  of  Chris- 
tendom, are  mostly  of  a  late  period.  The  stanzas 
which  the  Latin  Church  has  handed  down  in  her 
services  from  Prudentius  are  hut  the  flowers  gatliered 
from  a  wilderness  of  weeds.^  The  "  Pange  Lingua 
Oloriosi "  is  attributed  to  Venantius  Fortunatus,  or 
Mamertus  Claudianus,  in  the  fifth  century  ;  the  ^^  Sta- 
bat  Mater "  "and  the  "  Dies  IrsB  "  are,  the  ^rst  prob- 
ably by  Jacopone  da  Todi,  and  the  last  by  Thomas  di 
Celano,  in  the  fourteenth.  These  two,  the  one  by 
its  tenderness,  the  other  by  its  rude  grandeur,  stand 
unrivalled ;  in  melody,  perhaps  the  hymn  of  St.  Bonar 
▼entnra  to  the  Cross  approaches  nearest  to  their  ex- 
cellences.^   As  a  whole,  the  Hymnology  of  the  Latin 

1  The  two  or  three  stanzaSf  '*  Salyete  Flores  Mertyram/'  are  from  the 
middle  of  a  long,  it  most  be  confessed  tiresome  Poem.  Cathem.  xii.  y. 
IflS.  Pmdentiiu,  even  in  Germany,  was  the  great  popular  author  of  the 
Middle  Ages;  no  worki^nt  the  Bible  appears  with  so  many  glosses  (inter- 
pretations or  notes)  in  high  Crerman,  which  show  that  it  was  a  book  of 
popular  instruction.  Rodolf  Raumer,  Einwirknng  Christenthums  anf  die 
Althoch  Deutsche  Sprache,  p.  222.  —  Seine  Hymnen  und  die  des  Ambrosius, 
bilden  mit  den  Ubrigen  Christlichen  Lyrikem,  das  Gesangbuch  des  mittelal- 
teriichen  Klerus.  —  The  hynms  of  Ambrose  were  translated  into  Grerman 
in  the  ninth  century. 

*  The  two  former  are  t4X>  well  known  to  extract.    Take  two  stanzas  of 

tiie  latter:  — 

**  Beeofdare  lanottD  erads, 

Qui  perlbetam  riun  duds, 

Deleetare  Jugiter, 
SaiMta  oruela  vecordaTe. 
Bt  in  ipsft  meditare 

TnmtiaUliter. 

*(  Qanm  quiesoas  ant  labons, 
Quaodo  rides,  qnando  plonui, 

Doles  skwa  gaudeas, 
QuMido  Tadifl,  qnando  Tenia, 
In  aolatiis  in  poenia 

Cmoem  eorde  teneaa." 

Apud  Daniel,  U.  p.  102. 

Of  the  more  general  hymns  I  would  select  that  for  the  Evening,  the  **  De«s 


810  LATIN  CHRISTIANTTT.  Book  XIV. 

Church  has  a  singularly  solemn  and  majestic  tone. 
Much   of  it,   no   doubt,  like   the   Ijric  verse  of  the 

Creator  Omniam,"  for  its  gentle  cadence  (p.  17);  the  Paschal  Hymn  of  the 
Boman  Breviary  (usually  the  best),  p.  83 ;  In  Exequiis  Defonctonim  (p. 
187):  — 

"  Jam  moesta  qnieMe  qaeralay 

Lacrinuui  8U«peadite  matrea ; 

Nallus  sua  pignon  plangat, 

Hon  luBC  repaxatto  ritm  «tt.  * 

Qoidnam  tibi  saza  carata, 

Quid  pulcra  Tolunt  nonomenta 

Res  quod  nisi  creditur  iUis, 

Non  mortaa,  sed  data  eoumo." 

Or,  the  two  attributed  to  St  Bernard,  p.  227  and  432,  which  show  the 
height  of  his  mysticism.  Of  what  are  called  the  Rhythms,  by  far  the  finest 
is  that  on  Paradise,  attributed,  no  doubt  without  ground,  to  St.  AogBsCiiM, 
more  likely  by  Damiani.    It  was  never  chanted  in  the  Church;  — 

"  Ad  perennis  vitn  Ibntem  mens  sitiTit  arida, 
Claustia  oanods  pras to  fiangi  elausa  qoari t  aidma : 
GUadt,  amUt,  elnetatur  cxol  frui  patriaf 

"  Dam  prsMuiis  et  aBrumnis  at  gsmit  obnoziam, 
Qnam  amisit,  dum  deliquit,  oontemplator  gloriam, 
Pneaeas  malum  anget  boni  perdifci  memoriam. 

"  Nam  quia  promat  aummaB  paeis  quanta  dt  bstltia, 
Ubi  TiTla  margultia  aurgunt  aedifleia, 
Anio  oelaa  mieant  taeta,  xadianl  trieUnia : 

<*  Solis  gammia  pratioaia  baae  atmetoxta  naetltar, 
Auro  mnndo,  tanquam  vitro,  urbia  via  atamltur, 
Abeat  Umua,  daeat  flmoa,  loaa  nulla  oamltnr. 


•t 


HIema  homna,  aataa  tomoa  ilUe  nunqnam  aaanunt, 
rioa  perpetuua  roaanun  m  aglt  pacpatuom, 
Gandent  lUia,  rubeacit  oroeua,  audat  balaamum. 

"  Yirent  prata,  Temant  aata,  liTl  melUa  ooofluunt, 
Pigmentorum  apirat  odor,  Uqoor  at  aravatum, 
Pandent  poma  flofldomm  nee  lapaoxa  ncmonun. 

**  Non  altemat  Inna  Tieea,  aol  vel  eniraa  aUeram, 
Agnna  aat  fellda  orUa  lumen  inoeddnnm* 
Nox  at  tempua  daaunt  al,  diem  Ibrt  contiQaum." 

Daniel,  i.  p.  116;  and  in  woika  of  St.  AvgoallM. 


There  are  thirteen  more  stanxas. 


Chap.  IV.  HYMNOLOQT.  811 

Greeks,  was  twin-bom  with  the  music ;  it  is  insep^ 
anblj  wedded  with  the  music ;  its  cadence  is  musical 
rather  than  metrical.  It  suggests,  as  it  were,  the  grave 
full  tones  of  the  chant,  the  sustained  grandeur,  the  glo- 
rious burst,  the  tender  fidl,  the  mysterious  dying  away 
of  the  organ.  It  must  be  heard,  not  read.  Decom«- 
pose  it  into  its  elements,  coldly  examine  its  thoughts,  its 
images,  its  words,  its  versification,  and  its  magic  is  gone* 
Listen  to  it,  or  even  read  it  with  the  imagination  or 
the  memory  full  of  the  accompanying  chant,  it  has 
an  unfelt  and  indescribable  sympathy  with  the  relig*> 
ions  emotions,  even  of  those  whose  daily  service  it  does 
not  constitute  a  part.  Its  profound  religiousness  has 
a  charm  to  foreign  ears,  wherever  there  is  no  stem  or 
passionate  resistance  to  its  power.  In  fact,  all  Hym* 
nology,  vernacular  as  well  as  Latin,  is  poetry  only  to 
predisposed  or  habituated  ears.  Of  all  the  lyric  verse 
on  the  noblest,  it  might  be  supposed  the  most  poetic 
subject,  how  few  hymns  take  their  place  in  the  poetry 
of  any  language. 

But  out  of  the  Hymnology,  out  of  the  Ritual,  of 
which  the  hymns  were  a  considerable  part,  arose  that 
which  was  the  initiatory,  if  rude,  form  of  religious 
tragedy.  The  Christian  Church  made  some  bold  ad* 
vance  to  be  the  theatre  as  well  as  the  temple  of  the 
people.  But  it  had  an  intuitive  perception  of  the  dan- 
ger; its  success  appalled  its  religious  sensitiveness. 
The  hymn  which,  like  the  Bacchic  song  of  the  Greeks, 
might  seem  developing  into  scenic  action,  and  becom- 
ing a  drama,  shrank  back  into  its  simpler  and  more 
lonely  grandeur.  The  Ritual  was  content  to  worship, 
to  teach  the  facts  of  the  Scripture  history  only  by  the 
Biblical  descriptions,  and  its  significant  symbolic  cere- 


812  LATIN   CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIY. 

monial.  Tet  the  Latin  Mysteries,  no  doubt  because 
they  were  Latin,  maintained  in  general  their  grmva 
and  serious  character.  It  was  when,  to  increase  its 
power  and  popularity,  the  Mystery  spoke  in  the  yulgar 
tongue,  that  it  became  vulgar ;  ^  then  buffoonery,  at 
first  perhaps  from  rude  simplicity,  afterwards  from 
coarse  and  unrestrained  fun,  mingled  with  the  sacred 
subjects.  That  which  ought  to  have  been  the  high- 
est, noblest  tragedy,  became  tragicomedy,  and  was 
gradually  driven  out  by  indignant  and  insulted  re- 
ligion. 

In  its  origin,  no  doubt  the  Mystery  was  purely  and 
essentially  religious.  What  more  natural  than  to  at- 
tempt, especially  as  the  Latin  became  more  unfiuniliar 
to  the  common  ear,  the  representation  rather  than  the 
description  of  the  striking  or  the  awful  scenes  of  the 
Gospel  history,  or  those  in  the  lives  of  the  Saints ;  to 
address  the  quick,  awakened  and  inthralled  eye,  rather 
than  the  dull  and  palled  ear.^  There  was  already  on 
the  walls,  in  the  chapels,  in  the  cloisters,  the  painting 
representing  the  history,  not  in  words,  but  in  act ;  by 
gesture,  not  by  speech.  What  a  theatre  I  Such  relig- 
ious uses  could  not  desecrate  buildings  so  profoundly 
hallowed  ;  the  buildings  would  rather  hallow  the  spec- 
tacle. That  theatre  was  the  Church,  soaring  to  its 
majestic  height,  receding  to  its  interminable  length, 
broken  by  its  stately  divisions,  with  its  countless  chap- 

1  See  in  Warton  (the  passage  is  worth  reading)  the  dull  buffooneiy  in- 
troduced into  the  Mystery  on  the  Harder  of  the  Innocents,  peribrmed  by 
the  English  at  the  Conncil  of  Constance.  This,  however,  most  hare 
in  Latin,  but  probably  firom  an  English  original.  —  vol.  ii.  p.  76. 

I  (•  Bcgnios  irritant  aniuioi  demissa  per  •anm 
Quam  qua  rant  oeolis  snl^ta  fldelibiu." 

A.  P.  1. 180. 


i3HAP.IV.     MYSTERY  OF  THE  INNOCENTS.        318 

dsy  and  its  long  cloister,  with  its  succession  of  concen- 
tric arches.  What  space  for  endless  variety,  if  not  for 
change  of  scene  I  How  effective  the  light  and  shade, 
even  by  daylight ;  how  much  more  so  heightened  by  the 
command  of  an  infinity  of  lamps,  torches,  tapers,  now 
pouring  their  full  efiulgence  on  one  majestic  object, 
now  showing  rather  than  enlightening  the  deep  gloom  I 
How  grand  the  music,  either  pervading  the  whole  space 
with  its  rolling  volumes  of  sound,  or  accompanying 
some  solemn  or  tender  monologue !  If  it  may  be  said 
without  offence,  the  company  was  already  enrolled,  to  a 
certain  degree  practised,  in  the  dramatic  art ;  they 
were  used  to  enforce  their  words  by  significant  gesture, 
by  movement,  by  dress.  That  which  was  considered 
the  great  leap  in  the  Greek  drama,  the  introduction  of 
the  second  actor,  was  already  done  :  different  parts  of 
the  service  were  assigned  to  priest,  or  humbler  deacon. 
The  antiphonal  chant  was  the  choir  breaking  into  two 
responsive  parts,  into  dialogue.  There  were  those  who 
recited  the  principal  parts ;  and,  besides  them  the  choir 
of  men  or  of  boys,  in  the  convent  of  females  and  young 
girls ;  acolyths,  mutes  without  number.  Take,  as  an 
illustration  of  the  effect  of  these  dramas  in  their  simple 
form,  the  Massacre  of  the  Innocents.^  It  opens  with 
a  procession  of  Innocents,  doubtless  children  in  white 
robes,  who  march  in  long  lines,  rejoicing,  through  the 
long  cloister  of  the  Monastery,  and  chanting,  "  How 
glorious  is  Thy  Kingdom  I  Send  down,  O  God,  Thy 
Lamb.*'    The  Lamb  immediately  appears  ;  a  man,  with 

&  Published  bj  Mr.  Wright  —  Karly  Mysteries,  London,  1888.  Several 
Latin  Mysteries  have  been  published  in  Paris,  but  only  a  small  number  of 
copies  by  Bibliographical  Societies,  and  so  not  of  general  access.  But  in 
truth  the  Poem,  the  Mystery  itself,  forms  a  very  subordinate  part  of  these 
representations. 


814  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

a  banner,  bearing  the  Lamb,  takes  his  place  at  their 
head,  leading  them  up  and  down,  in  long  gleaming  pro* 
cession.  Herod  (doubtless  clad  in  all  the  splendor  of 
barbaric  and  Oriental  attire)  is  seated  on  his  throne. 
A  squire  appears,  hands  him  his  sceptre,  chanting,  ^^  On 
the  throne  of  David."  In  the  mean  time,  an  Angel 
alights  upon  the  manger,  singing,  ^^  Joseph,  Joseph, 
Joseph,  thou  son  of  Da^nd ; "  and  reciting  the  verse 
of  the  Gospel  commanding  the  flight  into  Egypt, 
*'  Weep  not,  O  Egypt."  His  armor-bearer  informs 
Herod  of  the  departure  of  the  Wise  Men :  he  bnrBts 
out  into  wrath.  While  he  is  raging,  the  children  are 
still  following  the  steps  of  the  Lamb,  and  sweetty 
chanting.^  Herod  delivers  the  fatal  sword  to  his  ar* 
mor-bearer.  The  Lamb  is  silently  withdrawn  ;  the  chil- 
dren remain,  in  their  fearless  innocence,  singing,  ^'  Hail, 
Lamb  of  God  I  O  hail  I  "  The  mothers  entreat  mer- 
cy. An  Angel  descends  while  the  slain  children  are 
dying,  while  they  lie  dead :  ^^  Ye  who  dwell  in  the 
dust,  awake  and  cry  aloud  I  "  The  Innocents  answer : 
"  Why,  O  God,  dost  thou  not  defend  us  from  blood- 
shed ?  "  The  Angel  chants  :  ^^  Wait  but  a  little  time 
till  your  number  is  full."  Then  enters  Rachel,  with 
two  women  comforting  her :  their  musical  dialogue  ia 
simple,   wild,   pathetic.^     As   they  lead   off   the  sad 

I  Agno  qui  noeto  pro  nobis  mortlfleato, 
Splendorem  patrte.  Rplendomn  rirglaitetit, 
Oflerimiu  Ctutoto,  sub  signo  ntuninis  lito. 

s  After  her  first  lament  they  reply:  — 

"  Noli,  Virgo  Rachel,  noU,  dalelnlflw  nwlw, 
Pro  Dec«  puTomm  fletm  retinere  dolomm. 
SI  qiue  triatark  ezulta  qoiB  laeTimarli, 
Namqne  till  natl  TlTant  inper  astn  beat!/' 

BACHH.<MnM. 

'*H0o!  hen!  hml 
Quomodo  gaodebo,  dam  mortua  mambra  vktobo! 


Chap.  IV.  MASSACRE  OF  THE  INNOCENTS.  815 

mother,  an  Angel,  hovering  above,  sings  the  antiphone, 
"Suffer  little  children  to  come  unto  me."  At  the 
voice  of  the  Angel  all  the  children  enter  the  choir, 
and  take  up  their  triumphant  song.  Herod  disappears ; 
Archelaus  is  on  his  throne.  The  Angel  summons  Jo- 
seph and  the  Virgin  from  Egypt.  Joseph  breaks  out 
into  a  hymn  to  the  Virgin.  The  cantor  of  the  Church 
intones  the  Te  Deum ;  the  whole  Church  rings  with 
the  august  harmony. 

I  have  chosen  this  brief  and  simple  episode,  as  it 
winre,  in  the  Gospel,  to  show  in  what  spirit,  with  what 
mm,  and  doubtless  with  what  wonderful  effect,  these 
sacred  representations  were  introduced  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  But  there  was  no  event,  however  solemn  and 
appalling,  up  to  the  Passion,  the  Resurrection,  the  As- 
cension, which  was  not  in  like  manner  wrought  into 
action,  preached  in  this  impressive  way  to  awe^struck 
crowds.  Legend,  like  the  Gospels,  lent  itself  ^  to  the 
same  purpose:  instead  of  being  read,  it  was  thrown 

Pom  >io  oommots  ^lero  per  Tisoera  tote ! 
M«  fkeiniit  T«rt  pueri  doe  fine  dolera ! 
0  dolor,  o  pAtmm  mutotaquo  gmudift  matrOm ! 
Ad  lugubres  luctus  lacrimamm  flindite  fluotOB, 
JndMB  11or«n  patrto  laerlmando  dolotvm." 

Alter  some  more  verses  the  consolations  end:  — 

^*  If  Qoiquld  fleodufl  est  iste 
Qui  regnam  poasidet  ooelsste ! 
Quique  prece  frequente 
Miseris  fratribns 
Apud  Deum  auxiliatar." 

Was  Rachel  represented  by  a  male  or  a  female?  A  Nun  deploring  the  loss 
of  her  children  had  been  somewhat  incongruous:  Did  tiie  Monks  and 
Nuns  ever  join  their  companies  ?  In  one  stage  direction  it  appears  the 
women  were  personated  by  men.  '*  Primum  procedunt  tres  fratres  pns- 
parati  et  vestiti  in  similitudinem  trium  Mariamm."  —  Mysterium  Besur- 
nctioQis,  quoted  by  M.  On^sime  de  Roy,  Mystdres,  p.  4. 

"  Gaude,  gaude,  gaudie  "* 
Haria  Tirgo,  ewtcUu  heerueSf^*  fro. 


816  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

into  a  sdrring  representation,  and  so  oflered  to  specta. 
tors  as  well  as  to  hearers.  When  all  were  believers, 
for  those  who  had. not  the  belief  of  faith  and  love,  had 
that  of  awe  and  fear,  these  spectacles  no  doubt  tended 
most  powerfiilly  to  kindle  and  keep  alive  the  religious 
interest ;  to  stamp  upon  the  hearts  and  souls  of  men 
the  sublime  truths,  as  well  as  the  pious  fictions  of  relig- 
ion. What  remains,  the  dry  skeleton  of  these  Latin 
mysteries,  can  give  no  notion  of  what  they  were  when 
alive ;  when  alive,  with  all  tlieir  august,  impressive,  in- 
thralling  accessories,  and  their  simple,  unreasoning,  but 
profoundly-agitated  hearers.  The  higher  truths,  as  well 
as  the  more  hallowed  events  of  our  religion,  have  in 
our  days  retired  into  the  reverential  depths  of  men's 
hearts  and  souls :  they  are  to  be  awAiUy  spoken,  not, 
what  would  now  be  thought  too  familiarly,  brought  be^ 
fore  our  eyes.  Christian  tragedy,  therefore,  could  only 
exist  in  this  early  initiatory  form.  The  older  Sacred 
history  might  endure  to  be  poeticized  in  a  dramatic 
form,  as  in  the  ^*  Samson  Agonistes  ; "  it  might  even, 
under  certain  circumstances,  submit  to  public  represen- 
tation, as  in  the  Esther  and  Athalie  of  Racine,  and  the 
Saul  of  Alfieri.  A  martyrdom  like  that  of  Polyeucte 
might  fiimish  noble  situations.  But  the  history  of  the 
Redeemer,  the  events  on  which  are  founded  the  solemn 
mysteries  of  our  religion,  must  be  realized  only,  as  it 
were,  behind  the  veil ;  they  will  endure  no  alteration, 
no  amplification,  not  the  slightest  change  of  form  or 
word :  with  them  as  with  the  future  world,  all  is  an 
object  of  "  faith,  not  of  sight."  * 

The  abbess  of  a  German  convent  made  a  more  ex- 
traordinary attempt  to  compel  the  dramatic  art  into  the 
service  of  Latin  Christianity.     The  motive  of  Hro»- 


Chap.  IV.  HROSWITHA.  317 

witha,  declared  by  herself,  is  not  less  strange  than  her 
design.^  It  was  to  wean  the  age  (as  far  as  we  can 
judge,  the  age  included  the  female  sex  —  it  included 
nuns,  even  the  nuns  of  her  own  rigid  order)  from  the 
£ital  admiration  of  the  licentious  comedy  of  Rome.^ 
"  There  are  persons,"  writes  the  saintly  recluse,  "  who 
prefer  the  vanity  of  heathen  books  to  the  Sacred  Scrip- 
tures, and  beguiled  by  tlie  charms  of  the  language,  are 
constantly  reading  the  dangerous  fictions  of  Terence, 
and  defile  their  souls  with  the  knowledge  of  wicked 
actions."  There  is  a  simplicity  almost  incredible,  but, 
from  its  incredibility,  showing  its  perfect  simplicity,  in 
Hroswitha's  description  not  only  of  her  motives  but  of 
her  difficulties.  The  holy  poetess  blushes  to  think  that 
she  too  must  dwell  on  the  detestable  madness  of  unlaw- 
ful love,  and  the  fatally  tender  conversation  of  lovers. 
If  however  she  had  listened  to  the  voice  of  modesty, 
she  could  not  have  shown  the  triumph  of  divine  Grace, 
as  of  course  Grace  in  every  case  obtains  its  signal 
triumph.  Each  of  the  comedies,  instead  of  its  usual 
close,  a  marriage,  ends  with  the  virgin  or  the  penitent 
taking  the  vow  of  holy  celibacy.  But  in  the  slender 
plots  the  future  saints  are  exposed  to  trials  which  it 
must  have  been  difficult  to  represent,  even  to  describe, 
with  common  decency.  Two  relate  to  adventures  in 
which  holy  hermits  set  forth  in  the  disguise  of  amorous 
youths,  to  reclaim  fallen  damsels,  literally  from  the  life 
of  a  brothel,  and  bear  them  ofi^  in  triumph,  but  not 
without  resistance,  from  their  sinful  calling.  Of  course 
the  penitents  became  the  holiest  of  nuns.     And  the 

1  These  plays  have  been  recently  edited,  and  translated  into  French  with 
great  care  by  M.  Magnin.  —  Th^&tre  de  Hroswitha.    Paris,  1843. 
9  Hroswitha  wrote  also  a  long  poem  in  hexameters,  Panegyris  Oddonum. 


818  lATDSr   CHRISTIANnT.  Book  XIV. 

curious  part  of  the  whole  seems  to  be  that  these  plays 
on  such  much  more  than  dubious  subjects  should  not 
only  have  been  written  by  a  pious  abbess,  but  were 
acted  in  the  convent,  possibly  in  the  chapel  of  the  con- 
vent. This  is  manifest  from  the  stage  directions,  the 
reference  to  stage  machinery,  the  appearance  and  dis- 
appearance of  the  actors.  And  nuns,  perhaps  young 
nuns,  had  to  personate  females  whose  lives  and  experi- 
ences were  certainly  most  remote  from  convent  disci- 
pline.^ The  plays  are  written  in  prose,  probably  b^ 
cause  in  those  days  the  verse  of  Terence  was  thought 
to  be  prose  :  they  are  slight,  but  not  without  elegance 
of  style,  derived,  it  should  seem,  from  the  study  of  that 
perilously  popular  author,  whom  they  were  intended  to 
supersede.  There  are  some  strange  patches  of  scholas- 
tic pedantry,  a  long  scene  on  the  theory  of  music,  an- 
other on  the  mystery  of  numbers,  with  some  touches 
of  buflFoonery,  strange  enough,  if  acted  by  nuns  before 
nuns,  more  strange  if  acted  by  others,  or  before  a  leai 
select  audience,  in  a  convent.  A  wicked  heathen,  who 
is  rushing  to  commit  violence  on  some  Christian  vir- 
gins, is,  like  Ajax,  judicially  blinded,  sets  to  kissing  the 
pots  and  pans,  and  comes  out  with  his  face  begrimed 
with  black,  no  doubt  to  the  infinite  merriment  of  all 
present.  The  theatre  of  Hroswitha  is  indeed  a  most 
curious  monument  of  the  times. 

No  wonder  that  the  severer  Churchmen  took  alarm, 
and  that  Popes  and  Councils*  denounced  these  theatric 
performances,  which,  if  they  began  in  reverent  sano 
tity,  soon  got  beyond  the  bounds  not  merely  of  rev- 

1  See  note  of  M.  Magnin  (p.  457 )« in  answer  to  Price,  the  editor  of  War- 
ton,  ii.  28.  M.  Magnin  baft  studied  with  great  industry  the  origin  of  tht 
Theatre  in  Europe. 


Objo'.  IV.  ANACREONTICS.  819 

erence,  but  of  decencj.  But,  like  other  abuses,  the 
reiteration  of  the  prohibition  shows  the  inveterate  ob- 
stinacy and  the  perpetual  renewal  of  the  forbidden 
pfactice.^  The  rapid  and  general  growth  of  the  ver- 
nacular Mysteries,  rather  than  the  inhibition  of  Pope 
and  Council,  drove  out  the  graver  and  more  serious 
Latin  Mysteries,  not  merely  in  Teutonic  countries  — 
in  England  and  Germany  —  but  in  France,  perhaps  in 
Italy.2 

Latin,  still  to  a  certain  extent  the  vernacular  lan- 
guage of  the  Church  and  of  the  cloister,  did  not  con- 
fine itself  to  the  grave  epic,  the  hymn,  or  the  Mystery 
which  sprang  out  of  the  hymn.  The  cloisters  had 
their  poetry,  disguised  in  Latin  to  the  common  ear,  and 
often  needing  that  disguise.  Among  the  most  curious, 
original,  and  lively  of  the  monkish  Latin  poems,  are 
those  least  in  harmony  with  their  cold  ascetic  discipline. 
Anacreontics  and  satires  sound  strangely,  though  in- 
termingled with  moral  poems  of  the  same  cast,  among 
the  disciples  of  St.  Benedict,  St.  Bernard,  and  St.  Fran- 
cis.    If  the  cloister  had  its  chronicle  and  its  hymn- 

^  The  prohibltiotis  sboir  that  the  ancient  use  of  musks  was  continued :  -^ 
^  ijiterdam  kkG  fiuat  m  ecclesiis  theatrales,  et  non  solum  ad  ludibriomm 
•pectacnla  introtmcontur  in  ets  monstra  larrarum,  veruro  etiam  in  aliqui- 
bus  festivitatibus  diaconi,  presbyteri  ac  subdiaconi  insaniae  sua  ludibric  ez- 
eroere  pnesnmunt,  mandamus,  quatenus  ne  per  hujuemodi  turpitudinem 
ecclesis  inquinetur  honestas^  prselibatam  ludibriorum  consuetudinem,  vel 
potins  comiptelam  cutvtis  a  vestris  ecclesiis  extirpare."  —  Decret  Greg. 
Boehmer,  Corpus  Juris  Canon,  t.  ii.  fol.  41S.  —  **  Item,  non  permittant  sa- 
ceidotes  ludos  theatrales  fieri  in  ecclesift  et  alios  ludos  inhonestos/*  —  Cone. 
Trev.  A.  D.  1227.  Hartzheiro^  iii.  p.  629.  Compare  Synod  Dioc.  Worm. 
A.  D  1316.    Ibid.  iv.  p.  258. 

*  Mary  Magdalen  was  a  favorite  character  in  these  dramas.  Her  earlier 
life  was  by  no  means  disguised  or  softened.  See  the  curious  extract  from 
a  play  partly  Latin,  partly  German,  published  by  Dr.  Hoffman,  Fundgru- 
ben  f^  Ge^chichte  Deutschen  Sprache,  quoted  by  Mr.  Wright  Preface  to 
'*  Early  Mysteries.**    London,  ISSS* 


820  LATIN  CHRISTIANltY.  BookXIY. 

books,  it  often  had  its  more  pro&ne  song-book,  and  the 
songs  which  caught  the  ear  seem  to  have  been  propt- 
gated  from  convent  to  convent.^  The  well-known  con- 
vivial song,  attributed  to  Walter  de  Mapes,  was  no 
doubt  written  in  England ;  it  is  read  in  the  collection 
of  a  Bavarian  convent.^  These,  and  still  more,  the 
same  satires,  are  found  in  every  part  of  Latin  Chris- 
tendom ;  they  rise  up  in  the  most  unexpected  quarters, 
usually  in  a  kind  of  ballad  metre,  to  which  Latin  lends 
itself  with  a  grotesque  incongruity,  sometimes  with 
Leonine,  sometimes  with  more  accurate  rhyme.  The 
Anacreontic  Winebibber's  song,  too  well  known  to  be 
quoted  at  length,  by  no  means  stands  alone :  the  more 
joyous  monks  had  other  Bacchanalian  ditties,  not  withr 
out  fancy  and  gay  harmony.^ 

1  Among  the  collections  which  I  have  read  or  consulted  on  this  prolific 
subject  are  the  old  one,  of  Flaodus  Illyricus.  —  Early  Mysteries  and  other 
Latin  Poems,  by  Thomas  Wright  London,  1S3S.  — Lateinische  Gedichie 
des  X.  and  XI.  J.  H.  von  Grimm  und  And.  SchmeUer.  Gottingen,  1838.' 
Poesies  Populaires  Latines  du  Moyen  Age.  Edelstan  da  Meril.  Paris, 
1847.  —  Popular  Songs  —  Poems  of  Walter  de  Mapes.  Camden  SodeQr  by 
Thomas  Wright 

3  This  Collection,  the  **  Carmina  Benedicto  Burana  "  (one  of  the  most  ca- 
rious publications  of  the  Stuttgard  Union),  the  Latin  Book  of  Ballads  it 
may  be  called  of  the  Convent  of  Benedict  Buren,  contains  many  love-vw- 
ses,  certainly  of  no  ascetic  tendency ;  and  this,  among  many  other  of  Um 
coarser  monkish  satires. 

*  "  Mihi  est  propositam  in  t&bemA  mod, 
Yinum  sit  appositom  morientls  ori, 
Bt  dioant  cum  venerint  Angeloram  ohori, 
Deus  lit  propitius  huio  potatori." 


"  Ave  !  color  Tini  clail, 
Dulcis  potus  non  amari, 
Tua  DOS  inebriari 

Dlgneris  potenttt. 
0  qoam  felix  creaturs, 
Qaam  produzlt  vltls  para, 
Omnii  mensa  sit  socaia 

In  tuft  prasentla. 


Chap.  IV.  ANACREONTIC  SONGS.  321 

The  Anacreons  of  the  cloister  did  not  sing  only  of 
wine :  they  were  not  silent  on  that  subject,  least  ap- 
propriate, but  seemingly  not  least  congenial,  to  men 
under  the  duty,  if  not  under  the  vow,  of  perpetual 
chastity.  From  the  variety  and  number  of  these 
poems,  which  appear  scattered  about  as  freely  and 
carelessly  as  the  moral  poems  and  satires,  it  might 
seem  that  there  was  a  constant  interchange  between 
the  troubadour  or  the  minnesinger  and  the  ecclesiastic 
or  the  monk.  Many  of  the  amatory  Latin  poems  are 
apparently  versions,  many  the  originals  of  those  sung 
by  the  popular  poets  in  the  vulgar  tongue ;  and  there 
can  be  no  doubt  about  the  authorship  of  most  of  the 
Latin  poems.  They  were  the  growth  as  they  were  the 
amusement  of  the  cloister.  They  were  written  for  the 
monks  and  clergy,  to  whom  alone  they  were  intelligi- 
ble. It  may  suffice  in  a  grave  history  (which,  however, 
as  endeavoring  to  reveal  the  whole  character  of  past 
times,  cannot  altogether  decline  such  topics)  to  select 
one  of  the  most  curious,  certainly  the  most  graceful, 
of  the  poems  of  this  class,  in  its  language  at  least,  if 
not  altogether  in  its  moral,  inoffensive.  It  is  a  kind  of 
Ek^logue,  in  which  two  fair  damsels,  Phyllis  and  Flora, 

"  0 !  qaam  plaoena  in  colore ! 
O !  qoun  firmgians  in  odon ! 
0!  qoam  aapidum  in  ore! 

Dnlce  linffun  Tincnlom ! 
lalix  Tenter  quern  entmbli ! 
Felix  gnttur  quod  rigabia ! 
l^Ux  oe  quod  tu  laTabia ! 

Kft  beate  labia ! 

<(  Irgo  Tinum  oollaudemuB ! 
Potatorae  exultemus ! 
Non  potentee  oonftindamuf 
In  letema  supplicla !  " 

Wriglit,  p.  190. 

VOL.  vm.  21 


322  LATIN  CURISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

one  enamored  of  a  Knight,  the  other  of  a  Clerk,  con* 
tend  for  the  superior  merit  of  their  respective  loven, 
and  submit  their  cause  to  the  decision  of  the  old  bear 
then  god,  Cupid.  The  time  of  this  Idyl  is  a  beautiful 
noon  in  spring,  its  scene  a  flowery  meadow,  under  tke 
cool  shade  of  a  pine  by  a  murmuring  stream.^  The 
fair  champion  of  the  knight  taunts  the  indolence,  the 
luxuriousness,  tlie  black  dress  and  shaven  crown  of  the 
clerk :  she  dwells  on  the  valor,  noble  person,  bravery, 
and  glory  of  the  knight.  The  champion  of  the  clerk, 
on  his  wealth,  superior  dignity,  even  his  learning.  His 
tonsure  is  his  crown  of  dominion  over  mankind ;  he  is 
the  sovereign  of  men  :  the  knight  is  his  vassal.'     After 

1  It  is  m.the  CMnuna  Benedicto  Burana,  p.  155 :  — 

6. 

SoMmbftt  modkom  et  in  Ipoo  grmmiiw 

Venttu  tempMtlTiii,  defloelwt  ririu, 

locus  ei»t  Tiridi  hnwi»  atqoa  gumlo 

gnmine  ftiCiTiu,  M urmure  ludTOS. 

7. 

Ut  pnellls  noeeat  TBntuUte  foUii, 

Calor  noUs  minus  late  pandeni  liniif, 

ftiit  Jnzu  riTnlam  dm  entmre  potent 

Spatlon  pinna  enlor  pengtinns. 

8. 
Conndere  TirginM  St  dnm  Mdf>t  ntnqoa 


Herb*  Mdam  dedit,  ae  in  sete  ndit, 

Phillii  propi  liTuIum,  amor  eorda  mlneimt 

Flora  long^  ledet,  et  ntramqne  tedit. 


Amor  est  interlus  pallor  genas  infldt, 

latens  et  oocnltns,  altorantnr  mltas, 

et  eorde  eertlssimos  sed  in  Tereenndtt 

didt  lingnltas.  ftaror  eat  sepnltns. 

s  I  omit  other  objections  of  Phyllis  to  a  clerical  lover.    This  is  the 

she  can  say:  — 

V. 

Orbam  enm  IsBtlfloaft  in  tonaoxt  capitis 

hora  Incis  fcstas  et  in  atift  teste 

tnno  apparet  cleriens  portans  teetlmoniom 

satis  inhonesto  Tolttntetis  mosstn. 


CiiAr.  IV. 


BALLAD  POETRY. 


823 


some  dispute,  they  mount,  one  a  fine  mule,  the  other  a 
stately  palfrey,  and  set  off,  both  splendidly  accoutred, 
to  the  Court  of  the  God  of  Love.  The  Paradise  of 
Cupid  is  described  rapidly,  but  luxuriantly,  with  much 
elegance,  and  a  profusion  of  classical  lore.  Silenus  is 
not  forgotten.  The  award  is  in  favor  of  the  clerk  ;  an 
award  which  designates  him  as  fitter  for  love :  and  this 
award  is  to  be  valid  to  all  future  times.^     Few  will 


To  this  Flora  rejoins:  — 

Non  dicas  opprobrium 
Si  cftgooKnut  morem, 
Teetem  nignun  clerioi  , 
conuuDD  breriorem ; 


UniTeFBa  clerioo 
Gonatat  ease  prona, 
et  signam  imperii 
portet  in  ooronA, 


otiosam  clerlcum 
semper  emejuru, 
tUss  apemit  opexas 
fiitteor  et  daras, 


Mens  est  in  parpuxft, 
tnosin  loricA; 
tuiu  est  in  proeHo 
mens  in  ketloftf 


87. 


88. 


89. 


40. 


habet  ista  cleriens 
ad  summum  lionorem, 
ut  sese  signiflcet 
omnibus  nuyjoxem. 


Impeiat  militibus, 
et  largitur  dona, 
fiunnlante  mis}or  ^^ 
imperans  persona. 


sed  com  ^ns  animns 
Xrolat  ad  curas, 
GoeU  Tias  dividit 
et  reram  naturas. 


nbi  ihota  prineipnm 
recolit  antiqua, 
scribit,  quserit,  cogitat — 
totum  de  amicft. 


1  The  dose  ib  delightfullj  naive.    I  must  only  subjoin  the  award:  -^ 

78. 


nnntotjostitte, 
Tsntilaot  Tigoram 
fentilant  et  xetrahimft 


Old  offiOTctn  cfcnciMffi 
dkunt  aptiorem. 
OomprobaTit  curia, 


79. 


Cnrin  ilgorem 
secundum  soientiam 
et  secundum  morem, 

dietionem  Juris, 
et  teneri  Toluit 
etiam  ftituris. 


This  poem  is  also  in  Mr.  Wright's  English  collection,  who  has  subjoined  a 
translation  of  the  time  of  Qneen  Elizabeth,  with  very  many  of  the  beau- 
ties, some  of  the  faults  of  tliat  age. 


824  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

question  whence  came  this  poem :  that  any  layman 
should  be  so  studious,  even  in  irony,  of  clerical  inter- 
ests, can  scarcely  be  suspected.  If  the  ballad  poetry 
of  a  people,  or  of  a  time,  be  the  best  illustration  of 
their  history,  this  poem,  without  doubt,  is  significant 
enough. 

It  were  unjust  not  to  add  that  there  is  a  great  mass 
of  this  rhyme,  not  less  widely  dispersed,  of  much  more 
grave  and  religious  import  —  poems  which  embody  the 
truths  and  precepts  of  the  faith,  earnest  admonitions  on 
the  duties  of  the  clergy,  serious  expostulations  on  the 
sufferings  and  oppressions  of  the  poor,  moral  reflections 
on  the  times.  The  monkish  poets  more  especially 
dwelt  on  the  Crusades.  Though  there  was  no  great 
poem  on  the  subject,  there  were  songs  of  triumph  at 
every  success  —  at  every  disaster  a  wild  poetic  wail.^ 
The  Crusade  was  perpetually  preached  in  verse,  half 
hymn,  half  war-song.^ 

Yet,  after  all,  the  strength  of  these  Monk-Poets  was 
in  satire.  They  have  more  of  Juvenal,  if  not  of  his 
majestic  march  and  censorial  severity,  of  his  pitiless- 
ness,  of  his  bitterness,  it  may  be  said  of  his  truculency, 
than  of  Catullus,  Terence,  or  Horace.     The  invectives 

1  Carmina  Benedicto  Buxuna,  xxu.  to  xxviii. :  ^ 

AgBdam  Chibtieola, 

M*  de  fide 
vq»aterli  MtoU, 
mida  martyr  in  agone, 
8p«  meroedis  at  ooronni, 
derelictfll  Babylone 
pngna 

]no  ooekati  reglone 
et  ad  Titun  te  oompone 
Pngnt. 

*  See  zxTi.  on  the  oonqoests  of  Saladhn ;  and  in  Edelstan  dn  Meril*8  Col- 
lection —  Lstara  Hiemsalem. 


Chai-.iv.  satiric  poems.  825 

against  Rome,  against  her  pride,  avarice,  venality  — 
against  Popes  and  Cardinals  —  against  the  Hierarchy, 
its  pomp,  its  luxury  —  against  the  warlike  habits  of  the 
Prelates,  the  neglect  of  their  holy  duties  —  even  against 
tlie  Monks,  put  to  the  test  their  rude  nerve  and  vigor ; 
and  these  poems  in  the  same  or  in  similar  strain  turn 
up  out  of  the  convent  libraries  in  many  parts  of  Ger- 
many, in  France,  in  England,  in  every  country  beyond 
the  Alps  (Italy  mostly  expressed  her  Antipapal  pas- 
sions in  other  ways).  They  are  of  all  ages ;  they  have 
tlie  merit  that  they  are  the  outpourings  of  overbur- 
dened hearts,  and  are  not  the  frigid  and  artificial  works 
of  mechanics  in  Latin  verse ;  they  are  genial  even  in 
their  ribaldry ;  they  are  written  by  men  in  earnest, 
bitterly  deploring  or  mercilessly  scourging  the  abuses 
of  the  Church.  Whether  from  righteous  indignation 
or  malignity,  from  moral  earnestness  or  jealousy  and 
hatred  of  authority,  whether  its  inspiration  was  holy 
and  generous  or  sordid  and  coarse,  or,  as  in  most  hu- 
man things,  from  mingling  and  contradictory  passions, 
tlie  monkish  Latin  satire  maintained  its  unretracted 
protest  against  the  Church.  The  Satirists  imperson- 
ated a  kind  of  bold  reckless  antagonist  against  Rome 
and  the  hierarchy,^  confounding  together  in  their  Go- 
lias,  as  Rabelais  in  later  days,  solemnity  and  buffoon- 

1  Mr.  Wright  has  abundantly  proved  this  in  his  preface  to  the  Poems  of 
Walter  de  Mapes.  (Introd.  p.  ix.,  &c.)  He  is  equally  successful,  according 
to  my  judgment,  in  depriving  of  the  glory,  or  relieving  from  the  reproach, 
of  these  compositions  the  celebrated  Walter  de  Mapes.  De  Mapes  had  a 
fend  with  the  Cistercians  or  White  Monks,  and  did  not  spare  his  enemies ; 
but  he  was  not  Golias.  Under  that  name  ranked  bards  of  a  considerabla 
period,  and  in  my  opinion  of  more  than  one  coimtry.  Mr.  Wright  is  not 
80  satisfactory  in  claiming  them  all  for  England :  one  poem  seems  to  show 
itself  written  in  Pavia.  Compare  the  copy  of  the  Confession  in  Wright 
(p.  71),  and  the  Carmina  Benedicto  Burana  (p.  57). 


826  LATIN   CHRISTIAiaTY.  Book  XIV. 

ery,  pedantic  learning  and  vulgar  humor,  a  profound 
respect  for  sacred  things  and  freedopi  of  invective 
against  sacred  persons.  The  Goliards  became  a  kind 
of  monkish  rhapsodists,  the  companions  and  rivals  of 
the  Jongleurs  (the  reciters  of  the  merry  and  licentious 
fabliaux)  ;  Goliardery  was  a  recognized  kind  of  medi- 
aBval  poetry.  Golias  has  his  Metamorphoses,  his  Apoc- 
alypse, his  terrible  Preachment,  his  Confession,^  his 
Complaint  to  the  Pope,  his  Address  to  the  Roman 
Court,  to  the  impious  Prelates,  to  the  Priests  of  Christ, 
to  the  Prelates  of  France ;  and,  finally,  a  Satire  on 
women,  that  is,  against  taking  a  wife,  instinct  with  true 
monastic  rigor  and  coarseness.  Towards  the  Pope 
himself — though  Golias  scruples  not  to  arraign  his 
avarice,  to  treat  his  Bulls  with  scorn  —  there  is  yet 
some  awe.^     I  doubt  if  the  Roman  Pontiff  was  yet  to 

1  The  Confession  contains  the  famoos  drinking  song.  The  dose  is  entiTO- 
ly  different,  and  shows  the  sort  of  common  property  in  the  poems.  Both 
poems  mention  Pavia.  Tet  the  English  copy  names  the  Bishop  of  Cor- 
entry,  the  German  '*the  Elect  of  Cologne,**  as  Diocesan. 

*  I  have  already  quoted  the  lines  in  one  of  those  songs  in  which  he  derires 
the  ^ord  Papa,  by  apocope,  from  pagare,  ^  pay,  pay.*'  In  his  complaint  to 
the  Pope,  Golias  is  a  poor  clerical  scholar  poet:  — 

Tnrpe  tibi,  pastor  bone, 
81  dirioA  lecttoiM 

BpretflL  flam  laieas, 
Vol  absolve  clerleatu, 
y«l  Ihe  Hi  in  clai  itato, 

PersATorBin  ctoiloas. 
Dnlds  erit  mihi  statos, 
Si  prebenda  maneratns 

Beddltn  Tttl  alio, 
ViTsm  Host  non  batranda, 
Saltern  mihi  detvr  viidB, 

Btodesm  da  propilo. 

From  a  vexy  different  author  in  a  different  tone  is  the  following :  — 

1. 
DioZllTOTites, 
DleeacaiaritM, 


Chap.  IV.  SATIRIC  POEMS.  327 

the  fiercest  of  these  poets,  as  to  the  Albigensians  and 
to  the  Spiritual  Franciscans,  Antichrist.     The  Cardi- 

Dle  x«m  eharitas, 
TJbl  nano  haldtuf 
Aut  in  nJl6  Vifiionii, 
Aut  In  thtono  Phanonis, 
Aut  in  alto  enm  Nerone, 
Ant  in  antro  cum  Timone, 
Vel  in  Tisoella  scirpcft 
Onm  Moyse  plorante, 
Vel  in  domo  Romulea 
Onm  buM  ftilmlnante. 

2. 

Bnlla  fnlmlnanto 
Snb  Judlce  tonanto, 
Bco  appellante, 
Sententia  gxavante, 
Teritaa  opprimitur, 
Diatrahitur  et  Tenditnr, 
Jnatftia  proatante, 
Itur  et  ncnrritur 
Ad  curiam,  nee  ante 
Quia  quid  oonaeqoatnr 
Doneo  eznltur 
Ultimo  quadrante. 

8. 

Beepondlt  Caritaa 
Homo  quid  dubitaa, 
Quid  me  solUoitaa? 
Non  sum  quod  uaitaa, 
Nee  in  euro,  nee  in  auatro, 
Neo  in  foro,  nee  in  clauatro. 
Nee  In  bysso,  nee  in  eueuUa, 
Neo  in  bello,  nee  in  bulla. 
De  Jericho  sum  Teniena. 
Ploro  cum  sauciato 
Quem  duplex  Levi  transiana 
Non  astltit  grabato. 

Gannina  Befiedloto  Buraoa,  p.  61. 

One  of  these  stanzu  is  contained  is  a  long  poem  made  up  very  uncriti- 
cally from  a  number  of  small  poems  (in  Flacdos  Illjricus,  p.  29,  &c.)  on 
Papal  absolution  and  indulgences:  — 

Noa  peeeata  lelazamua 
Abaolutoa  ooUoeamua 

Sedibus  ethereia, 
Noa  habemua  noatras  togas, 
Alligantea  omnea  legea 

In  manida  auxels. 

Ounn-f  B.  B.,  p.  17. 


328  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  HV. 

nals  meet  with  less  respect ;  that  excessive  and  prover- 
bial venality,  which  we  have  heard  denounced  centnrj 
after  century,  is  confirmed,  if  it  needed  confirmation, 
by  these  unsparing  satirists.^ 

The  Bishops  are  still  arraigned  for  their  martial 
habits,^  their  neglect  of  their  sacred  functions,  their 
pride,  their  venality,  their  tyranny.  Some  were  mar- 
ried :  this  and  universal  concubinage  is  the  burden  of 

1  See  the  Poem  de  Riim&  Boms.    Wright,  p.  217.  Cannina  B.  B.  16 :  — 

8. 

Vkli  Tidl  caput  rnnndl 
Instar  nurte  et  proftudl 
Toraz  gnttur  Slcnli; 
ibi  mundi  bithalamiB, 
•     ibi  sorbet  aunun  Cnanu 
et  argeatnm  saBculi. 

•       •       • 
Ibi  pugna  galeuum 
et  ooncunus  piratanun 
id  est  eardinaUum. 


26 

Cardinales  ut  pnodizi, 
NoTo  Jura  Crueiflxi 
Vaadani  patrimoninm, 
Petros  foris,  intos  Nero, 
Intos  lapa,  ftnis  mo 
ricut  ifni  OTinm. 

This  ifl  bat  a  sample  of  these  Poems. 

'  Ipiseopl  oomutl 
Gontieaen  mvtl, 
ad  pnedam  foat  paiatt 
•t  indeceater  ooronatl 
pro  Tirgft  fbrnnt  lancoam, 
pro  Inftalft  galeam, 
eUpeam  pro  stolft, 
(h»e  mortis  erlt  mda) 
lorieaiB  pro  albi, 
hsDC  oocaiio  eslva, 
peUsm  pro  hnmeiaUf 
proiUu  seenlail 
Sioat  fortes  inoednnt, 
•t  a  Deo  diseedmt,  9to. 


Chap.  IV.  SATIRIC  POEMS.  329 

the  complaint  against  the  Clergy.^  The  Satirists  are 
stem  monks  to  others,  however  their  amatory  poetry 
may  tell  against  themselves.^  The  Archdeacons'  Court 
is  a  grievance  which  seems  to  have  risen  to  a  great 
height  in  England.  Henry  II.  we  have  heard  bitterly 
complaining  against  its  abuses :  it  levied  enormous  sums 
on  the  vices  of  the  people,  which  it  did  not  restrain.^ 

Caim.  B.  Bonma,  p.  15.     Compare  Wright,  Senno  Golia  ad  Pnelatoe, 

p.  48. 

1  N«o  tn  particJpw 

Coi^ngia  vitaB  Tltio 
Namque  maltos  inTenlo 
qui  Hunt  hnyu  putkipM, 
ecoleidunm  priacipes. 

*  O  AMerdM  h«o  iwponde. 
qui  ft«qaenter  et  joconde 
earn  nzore  donnif ,  iinde 
HaiM  sargMU,  minam  diets, 
eorpTis  Chriatl  beDedicifl, 
poti  amplezQs  meretHeb, 
minus  qtuun  tu  peocatrids. 

•       •       •       • 
IdfOf  409,  Airar  plaiM 
qaod  rab  lllo  latst  pan* 
Corpus  Ghristi,  quod  prophana 
Tnictat  maaus  ilia  mane, 
Miror,  nisi  tu  mirMrls, 
quod  a  tenft  non  mrberis, 
enmque  snpe  prohiboiis 
itorare  non  rererls. 

Wright,  pp.  49,  60. 

S  Compare  in  Wright  the  three  carionfl  poems,  De  Concubinis  Sacerdo- 
tom,  Consnltatio  Sacerdotum,  Convocatio  Sacerdotom,  pp.  171, 174, 180. 

Eeoe  capltulum  togi  de  moribus 
Archdlaconi,  qui  suls  rieibns 
quioquid  a  prBesuUs  evadit  manibus 
Capit  et  laoerat  roetris  et  unguibus. 

Hie  plenus  ocuUs  sedet  ad  synodum, 
Lynx  ad  inridlas,  Janun  ad  cominodmii, 
Axgns  ad  animl  scelus  omnimodnm, 
Xt  Polyphemus  est  ad  artls  metodum. 

Doetoram  statnit  deonta  millium, 
Qoomm  est  pondns  supra  Jus  jurium, 


•>       ■>■'•' 

^  ^  J      J 

-     -    ^    .  '  ' 


330  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIY. 

AU  are  bitterly  reproached  with  the  sale  of  the  services 
of  the  Church,  even  of  the  Sacraments.^  The  monks 
do  not  escape ;  but  it  seems  rather  a  quarrel  of  diflfer- 
ent  Orders  than  a  general  denunciation  of  all. 

The  terrible  preachment  of  GoUas  on  the  Last  Judg- 
ment ought  not  to  be*  passed  by.  The  rude  doggerel 
rises  almost  to  sublimity  as  it  summons  all  alike  before 
the  Judge,  clerk  as  well  as  layman  ;  and  sternly  cuts 
off  all  reply,  all  legal  quibble,  all  appeal  to  the  throne 
of  St.  Peter.  The  rich  will  find  no  favor  before  Him 
who  is  the  Judge,  the  Author  of  the  sentence,  the  Wit- 
ness. Grod  the  Judge  will  jndge  Judges,  he  will  judge 
Kings ;  be  he  Bishop  or  Cardinal,  the  sinner  will  be 
plunged  into  the  stench  of  hell.  There  will  be  no  fee 
for  Bull  or  Notary,  no  bribe  to  Chamberlain  or  Porter. 
Prelates  will  be  delivered  up  to  the  most  savage  t<Nr» 
mentors  ;  their  life  will  be  eternal  death.' 

Uniim  qui  Mdmit,  leiu  eit  omnfaui, 
NU  nMtmit  priiu  muta^nm 

•       •       •       •       • 
Beeksiastlea  Jmm  mnalift, 
ftfdt  propAtalo,  ted  Tvnialla 
earn  Tenum  dederit.  Toeat  •  fmaSk 
quam  Don  InTBoieiM  TBnit  WoclMia. 

Wright,  p.  9. 

1  Jftcet  ordo  cleriealii 
in  nspeckn  laienlia, 
spina  ChristI  111  moranllt 
generoaa  generalli 
Veneant  altute, 
Tenit  eaebariitiA, 
enm  sit  nngatorift 
gntia  TenftUs. 

Carmin.  B.  Bnnuia,  p.  41. 

This  and  the  following  poems  dwell  on  simony  of  all  kinds.  See  the  Poem 
De  Crisis  Monachis,  Wright,  p.  54.  De  Clarevallensibos  et  CloniaoensilniSi 
ib.  p.  237.    De  Malis  Monachomm,  187. 

>  Qaid  dictari  miseri  samiu  ante  ttuoovflif 
Ante  tantnm  jndleem,  ante  sommnm  bonnm ; 


toAP.IV.  LATIN  HISTORY.  331 

History  throughout  these  centuries  bore  on  its  face 
that  it  was  the  work  not  of  the  statesman  i^y„ 
or  the  warrior,  unless  of  the  Crusader  or  of  '******'3r- 
the  warrior  Bishop,  it  was  that  of  the  Monk.  .  It  is 
universally  Latin  during  the  earlier  period :  at  first  in- 
deed in  Italy,  in  Latin  which  may  seem  breaking  down 
into  an  initiatory  Romance  or  Italian.  Erchempert 
and  the  Salernitan  Chronicle,  and  some  others  of  that 
period,  are  barbarous  beyond  later  barbarism.  When 
history  became  almost  the  exclusive  property  of  the 
Monks,  it  was  written  in  their  Latin,  which  at  least  was 
a  kind  of  Latin.  Most  of  the  earlier  Chronicles  were 
intended  each  to  be  a  universal  history  for  the  instruc- 
tion of  the  brotherhood.  Hence  monkish  historians 
rarely  begin  lower  than  the  Creation  or  the  Deluge. 
According  to  the  erudition  of  the  writer,  the  historian 
is  more  or  less  diffuse  on  the  pre-Christian  History,  and 
that  of  the  Caesars.    As  the  writers  approach  their  own 

Tune  son  erit  sliqulf  lociu  hie  pneconum, 
Oum  nestramm  pnemla  reddet  aetionom. 

Cum  perr»ntum  fberit  ezamen  Teri, 
Ante  thronnm  stabimus  judicis  aeTeii, 
Nee  erIt  dlitlnctio  laici  Tel  clexi. 
Nulla  DOS  excaptio  poteric  tueri. 

Hie  Don  erit  lleltuni  qulcquam  aUegarei 
Neque  Jus  n^ioere.  Deque  replican, 
Nee  ad  ApostoUcam  sedem  appellare, 
Ben*  tunc  damnabitur.  nee  dicetnr  quale. 

Cogitate  diTltes  qui  Tel  quales  estis, 
Quod  in  hoe  Judicio  ikcere  potestis ; 
Tunc  non  erit  aliquis  locun  hie  Digestls, 
Idem  erit  Deus  hie  Judex,  autor,  testis, 
Judicabitjudiees  Judex  generaliff, 
Nihil  ibi  proderit  dlgnitas  rrgaliM  ; 
Bed  foetorem  sentiet  pause  gehennalis, 
SlTe  sit  Epiicoptts,  sire  Cardinalis. 

NihU  ibi  dabitur  bullsB  Tel  scriptori, 
Nihil  eamerario,  nihil  Janitori ; 
fled  dabuntur  praesules  pemimo  tortori, 
Quibus  erit  TtTen  sine  fine  niorl. 

Wright,  p.  68. 


832  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

age,  the  brief  Chronicle  expands  and  registers  at  first 
all  that  relates  to  the  institution  and  interests  of  the 
monastery,  its  founders  and  benefactors,  their  lives  and 
miracles,  and  condescends  to  admit  the  affidrs  of  the 
times  in  due  subordination.  But  there  is  stiU  some- 
thing of  the  legend.  Gradually,  however,  the  actual 
world  widens  before  the  eyes  of  the  monkish  historian ; 
present  events  in  which  he,  his  monastery,  at  all  events 
the  Church,  are  mingled,  assume  their  proper  magni- 
tude. The  universal-history  preface  is  sometimes  ac- 
tually discarded,  or  shrinks  into  a  narrower  compass. 
He  is  still  a  chronicler ;  he  still,  as  it  were,  surveys 
everything  from  within  his  convent-walls,  but  the  world 
has  entered  within  his  convent.  The  Monk  has  be- 
come a  Churchman,  or  the  Churchman,  retired  into  the 
monastery,  become  almost  an  historian.  The  high  name 
of  Historian,  indeed,  cannot  be  claimed  for  any  medi- 
aeval Latin  writer ;  but  as  chroniclers  of  their  own  times 
(their  value  is  entirely  confined  to  their  own  times ;  on 
the  past  they  are  merely  servile  copyists  of  the  same 
traditions)  they  are  invaluable.^  Their  very  faults  are 
their  merits.  They  are  full  of,  and  therefore  represent 
the  passions,  the  opinions,  the  prejudices,  the  pardalir 
ties,  the  animosities  of  their  days.  Every  kingdom, 
every  city  in  Italy,  in  Germany  every  province,  has  its 
chronicler.^  In  England,  though  the  residence  of  the 
chronicler,  the  order  to  which  he  belongs,  and  the  office 
which  he  occupies,  are  usually  manifest,  it  is  more  of- 
ten the  affairs  of  the  realm  which  occupy  the  annals. 
France,  or  rather  the  Franco-Teutonic  Empire,  began 

1  E.  g.  in  the  Saxon  Chronicle. 

3  To  characterize  the  Chroniclea,  even  thoae  of  tha  different  nationa, 
woold  be  an  endleaa  labor. 


Chap.  IV.  CnRONICLERS.  338 

with  better  promise  ;  Eginhard  has  received  his  due 
praise ;  the  Biographers  of  Louis  the  Pious,  Thegan, 
and  the  Astronomer,  may  be  read  with  pleasure  as  with 
instruction  :  Nithard  falls  off.  In  England  Matthew 
Paris,  or  rather  perhaps  Roger  of  Wendover,  takes  a 
wider  range  :  he  travels  beyond  the  limits  of  England  ; 
he  almost  aspires  to  be  a  chronicler  of  Christendom. 
The  histories  of  the  Crusades  are  lively,  picturesque, 
according  as  they  come  directly  from  the  Crusaders 
themselves.  Perhaps  the  most  elaborate,  William  of 
Tyre,  being  a  compilation,  is  least  valuable  and  least 
effective.  Lambert  of  Hertzfield  (vulgarly  of  Aschaf- 
fenburg)  in  my  judgment  occupies,  if  not  the  first, 
nearly  the  first  place,  in  mediasval  history.  He  has 
risen  at  least  towards  the  grandeur  of  his  subject.  Our 
own  chroniclers,  Westminster,  Knighton,  and  Walsing- 
ham,  may  vie  with  the  best  of  other  countries.  As  to 
their  Latinity,  Saxo  Grammaticus,  the  Sicilian  Ugo 
Falcandus,  command  a  nobler  and  purer  style. 

Yet  after  all  the  Chronicle  must,  to  attain  its  perfec- 
tion, speak  in  the  fresh  picturesqueness,  the  freedom, 
and  the  energy  of  the  new  vernacular  languages.  The 
Latin,  though  in  such  universal  use,  is  a  foreign,  a  con- 
ventional tongue  even  among  Churchmen  and  in  the 
monastery.  Statesmen,  men  of  business,  men  of  war, 
must  begin  to  relate  the  affiiirs  of  States,  the  adven- 
tures and  events  of  war.  For  the  perfect  Chronicle 
we  must  await  Villehardouin,  Joinville,  Froissart. 
Villani  is  more  than  a  chronicler ;  he  is  approaching 
to  the  historian. 


834  LATIN  CHMSTIANITT.  Book  XIT. 


CHAPTER    V. 

CHRIS  rUN  LETTERS  IN  THE  NEW  LANGUAGES  OF  EUROPE. 

Christianitt,  indeed,  must  await,  and  not  in  his- 
tory alone,  the  creation,  gix)wth,  perfection  of  new  lan- 
guages, before  she  can  become  the  parent  of  genuine 
Christian  letters  and  arts  —  of  letters  and  arts  which 
will  maintain  permanent  influence  and  ascendency  over 
the  mind  of  man.  But  the  abrogation  of  the  Latin  as 
the  exclusive  language  of  Christian  letters  and  arts 
must  be  inevitably  and  eventually  the  doom  of  Latin 
Christianity.  Latin  must  recede  more  and  more  into  a 
learned  language  understood  by  the  few.  It  may  lin- 
ger in  the  religious  service  of  all  who  adhere  to  the 
Church  of  Rome,  not  absolutely  unintelligible  to  those 
whose  language  is  of  Latin  descent,  and  among  them 
with  a  kind  of  mvsterious  and  venerable  indistinctness 
not  unfavorable  to  religious  awe.  The  Latin  is  a  con- 
genial part  of  that  imposing  ritual  system  which  speaks 
by  symbolic  gestures  and  genuflexions,  by  dress,  by 
music,  by  skilful  interchange  of  light  and  darkness,  by 
all  which  elevates,  soothes,  rules  the  mind  through  the 
outward  senses.  A  too  familiar  Liturgy  and  Hymnol- 
ogy  might  disturb  this  vague,  unreasoning  reverence. 
With  the  coarsest  and  most  vulgar  Priesthood  these 
services  cannot  become  altogether  vul<jar ;  and  except 
to  the  strongest  or  most  practical  minds,  the  clear  and 


CiiAr.y.  MODERN  LANGUAGES.  335 

the  definite  are  often  fatal  to  the  faith.  Tet  for  popular 
instruction  either  from  the  Pulpit  or  through  the  Print- 
ing Press,  Christianity  must  descend,  as  it  does  descend, 
to  the  popular  language.  In  this  respect  Latin  has  long 
discharged  its  mission  —  it  is  antiquated  and  obsolete. 

But  while  the  modem  languages  of  Europe  survive  ; 
and  we  can  hardlj  doubt  the  vitality  of  French,  Italian, 
Spanish,  German,  and  our  own  English  (now  the  ver- 
nacular tongue  of  North  America  and  Australia,  that 
too  of  government  and  of  commerce  in  vast  regions  of 
Africa  and  Asia),  the  great  Christian  writers,  Dante, 
Ariosto,  Tasso,  Calderon  ;  Pascal,  Bossuet,  and  the 
pulpit  orators  of  France,  with  Corneille  and  Racine ; 
the  German  Bible  of  Luther,  the  English  Bible,  Shak- 
speare,  Milton,  Schiller,  some  of  our  great  divines, 
Hooker,  Jeremy  Taylor,  will  only  die  with  the  lan- 
guages in  which  they  wrote.  Descartes,  Bacon,  Locke, 
Reid,  Kant,  will  not  share  the  fate  of  the  scholastic 
philosophers,  till  the  French,  English  and  German  are 
to  new  races  of  men  what  mediaeval  Latin  is  to  us. 
And  religion  must  speak  to  mankind  in  the  dominant 
languages  of  mankind. 

It  might  seem  indeed  that  in  the  earliest  Latin  as 
distinguished  from  the  Teutonic  languages,  the  Ro- 
mance in  its  various  forms,  Sicilian,  Italian,  Catalan, 
Proven§al,  poetry,  the  primal  form  of  vernacular  liter- 
ature was  disposed  to  break  loose  from  Latin  Chris- 
tianity, from  hierarchical  utiity,  even  from  religion. 
The  Clergy  in  general  remained  secluded  or  shrunk 
back  into  the  learned  Latin ;  the  popular  poetry, 
even  the  popular  prose,  became  profane,  unreligious,  at 
length  in  some  part  irreligious.  The  Clergy,  as  has 
been  seen,  for  their  own   use  and  amusement,  trans- 


3^8  LATDi   CIIKISTIAXITY-  Boos  XIV. 

muted  much  of  the  popular  poetry  into  Latin,  bat 
it  ceased  thereby  to  be  popular  except  among  them- 
selves. They  shut  themselves  up  from  the  awakening 
and  stirring  world  in  their  sanctity,  their  aathority, 
their  learning,  their  wealth.  The  Jongleurs,  the  Troa- 
vdres,  the  Troubadours,  became  in  a  certain  sense  the 
popular  teachers ,  the  Bards  and  the  sacerdotal  order 
became  separate,  hostile  to  each  other.  The  Clergy 
might  seem  almost  content  with  the  intellect  of  man ; 
they  left  the  imagination,  except  so  fiu*  as  it  was  kept 
inth railed  by  the  religious  ceremonial,  to  others.  Per- 
haps the  Mysteries,  even  the  early  Latin  Mysteries, 
chiefly  arose  out  of  the  consciousness  of  this  loss  of 
influence  ;  it*  was  a  strong  effort  to  recover  that  which 
was  gliding  from  their  grasp.  Some  priests  were  Trou- 
badours, not  much  to  the  elevation  of  their  priestly 
character ;  Troubadours  became  priests,  but  it  was  by 
the  renunciation  of  their  poetic  fame ;  and  by  setting 
themselves  as  far  asunder  as  possible  from  their  former 
brethren.  Fulk  of  Marseilles  ^  became  the  furious  per- 
secutor of  those  who  had  listened  with  rapture  to  his 
poetry.  Later  one  of  the  most  famous  of  the  schoolr 
men  was  said  to  have  been  a  Troubadour.^ 

Chivaliy  alone,  so  far  as  chivalry  was  Christian,  held 
poetry  to  the  service  of  Christianity,  and  even  of  the 

1  For  the  histoiy  of  Fulk  of  Maneilles,  whose  poetic  fiune  endured  to  tiia 
days  of  Dante,  see  back,  vol.  iv.  p.  112. 

3  No  less  a  person  than  William  Durand,  the  great  general  of  the  Pope, 
the  great  Ecclesiastical  Legif  t,  almost  the  last  great  Schoolman,  the  aatbor 
of  the  Speculum  and  the  Rationale,  is  traditionally  reported  to  have  been  a 
Troubadour.  A  tale  is  told  of  him  very  similar  to  that  of  Romeo  and  Ju- 
liet Conceive  Romeo  growing  up  into  a  High  Churchman  and  a  School- 
man !  —  Ritter,  Christliche  Philosophie,  vii.  p.  19.  The  question  is  exam* 
ined  with  fairness  and  sagacity  in  the  xz.th  vol.  of  the  Hist.  Lit.  de  U 
France,  p.  485. 


Cmap.V.  PROVENCAL  POBTBY.  387 

Church  ;  bat  this  was  chiefly  among  {he  Trouveres 
of  Northern  France  or  the  Langue  d'Oil.  The  Pro- 
vencal poetry  of  the  South,  the  cradle  of  modem  song, 
contains  some  noble  bursts  of  the  Crusading  religious 
sentiment ;  it  is  Christian,  if  chivalry  be  Christian,  in 
tone  and  thought.  But,  in  general,  in  the  castle 
courts  of  the  Provenjal  Princes  and  Nobles  poetry 
not  only  set  itself  above  Christian  religion,  but  above 
Christian  morals.  The  highest  Idealism  was  amatory 
Platonism,  which  while  it  professed,  religious  adoration 
of  woman,  degraded  her  by  that  adoration.  It  may 
be  doubted  whether  it  could  ever  have  broken  forth 
from  that  effeminacy  to  which  it  had  condemned  itself. 
Grace,  perhaps  tenderness,  was  its  highest  aim ;  and 
Poetry  soars  not  above  its  aim.  But  this  subject  has 
already  found  its  place  in  our  history.  In  its  lower 
and  popular  form  Provencal  poetry,  not  less  immoral, 
was  even  more  directly  anti-hierarchical.  It  was  not 
heretical,  for  it  had  not  religion  enough  to  be  heretical : 
religion  was  left  to  the  heretic.  The  Fabliau,  the  Sa- 
tire, the  Tale,  or  the  Song^  were  the  broad  and  reck- 
less expression  of  that  aversion  and  contempt  into 
which  the  Clergy  of  Southern  France  had  fallen,  and 
tended  immeasurably  to  deepen  that  aversion  and  con- 
tempt. But  it  has  been  sadly  shown  how  the  Albigen- 
sian  war  crushed  the  insurrection  of  Provencal  poetry 
against  Latin  letters,  together  with  the  insurrection 
against  the  Latin  hierarchy.  The  earliest  vernacular 
poetry  perished  almost  without  heirs  to  its  fame ;  its 
language,  which  once  divided  France,  sunk  into  a  pro- 
vincial dialect.^ 

1  Etob  in  oar  days  ProTence  has  a  poet,  and  that  of  no  nndeserfed  ftait, 
Jmadnei  of  coune,  the  language  has  ondergona  much  change. 
VOL.  vui,  22 


888  LATIN  CHRISTUNITY.  Book  XIV. 

Christendom  owes  to  Dante  the  creation  of  Italian 
Poetry,  through  Italian,  of  Christian  Poetry.  It  re- 
quired all  the  courage,  firmness,  and  prophetic  sagacity 
of  Dante  to  throw  aside  the  inflexible  bondage  of  the 
established  hierarchical  Latin  of  Europe.  He  bad 
almost  yielded  and  had  actually  commenced  the  Di- 
vine Comedy  in  the  ancient,  it  seemed,  the  aniveraal 
and  eternal  language.^  But  the  Poet  had  profoundly 
meditated,  and  deliberately  resolved  on  his  appeal  to 
the  Italian  mind  and  heart.  Yet  even  then  he  had 
to  choose,  to  a  certain  extent  to  form,  the  pure,  vigor- 
ous, picturesque,  harmonious  Italian  which  was  to  be 
intelligible,  which  was  to  become  native  and  popular 
to  the  universal  ear  of  Italy.  He  had  to  create ;  out 
of  a  chaos  he  had  to  summon  light.^     Every  kingdom, 

1  Compare  among  other  authorities  the  valuable  essay  of  Perticari,  tha 
Bon-in-law  of  Monti  (in  Monti,  Proposta  di  alcune  Ck>rrezioni,  &c.  al  Vocab. 
della  Crusca,  v.  ii.  pte  ii.)*  Perticari  quotes  the  very  curious  letter  of  the 
Monk  Ilario  to  Uguccione  della  Faggiuola.  To  this  Monk  the  wandering 
Dante  showed  part  of  his  g^reat  work.  The  Monk  was  astounded  to  see 
that  it  was  written  in  the  vulgar  tongue.  "  lo  mi  stupiva  ch*  egli  avease 
cantato  in  quelle  lingua,  perch^  parea  coea  difficile,  anzi  da  non  credere, 
chd  quegli  aldssimi  intendimenti  si  potessero  significare  par  parole  di  vulgo; 
ne  mi  parea  convenire  chd  una  tanta  e  si  degna  scienza  fosse  vestita  a  quel 
modo  si  plebeo."  Dante  replied,  that  so  he  himself  had  originally  tbou^t. 
He  had  once  begun  hia  poem  in  Latin,  and  these  were  the  lines  ^ 

**  Ultima  regna  eanam,  fluido  contermina  mnndo, 
Bpiritfbus  quas  lata  patent,  qua  pnemia  solvunt 
Pro  meritis  ealcanque  tuis.'* 

But  he  had  thrown  aside  that  lyre,  ^*  ed  un  altra  ne  temperai  oonveniaate 
air  orecchio  de'  modemi."  The  Monk  concludes  "  molte  altre  coee  cen 
sublimi  affetti  soggiunse  '*  (p.  328).  Perticari  quotes  another  remonstrance 
addressed  to  the  poet  by  Giovanni  di  Virgilio  da  Cesena,  closing  with  these 
words:  "  Se  te  giova  la  fama  non  sii  contento  a  si  brevi  confini  ni  all*  efiaer 
&tto  glorioso  dal  vil  giudicio  del  volgo"  (p.  330).  Conceive  the  Divine 
Comedy  stranded,  with  Petrarch's  Africa,  high  on  the  barren  and  unap- 
proachable shore  of  ecclesiastical  Latin. 

*  **  Poscia  nel  libro  ch*  ei  nomina  del  Yulgare  Eloquenza,  c(iminci6  ad 
illnstrare  Tidioma  poetico  ch*  egli  creaoa.**  See  the  excellent  obeervatioas 
on  writing  in  a  dead  language,  Foacolo,  Discoiso  sul  Testo  di  Dante,  p.  Ml 


Chap.  V.  ITALIAN  LANGUAGE.  889 

every  province,  every  district,  almost  every  city,  had 
its  dialect,  peculiar,  separate,  distinct,  rude  in  con- 
struction, harsh,  in  different  degrees,  in  utterance. 
Dante  in  his  book  on  Vulgar  Eloquence  ranges  over 
the  whole  land,^  rapidly  discusses  the  Sicilian  and 
Apulian,  the  Roman  and  Spoletan,  the  Tuscan  and 
Genoese,  the  Romagnole  and  the  Lombard,  the  Tre- 
visan  and  Venetian,  the  Istrian  and  Friulian ;  all  are 
coarse,  harsh,  mutilated,  defective.  The  least  bad  is 
the  vulgar  Bolognese.  But  high  above  all  this  dis- 
cord he  seems  to  discern,  and  to  receive  into  his  pro- 
phetic ears,  a  noble  and  pure  language,  common  to 
all,  peculiar  to  none,  a  language  which  he  describes 
as  Illustrious,  Cardinal,  Courtly,  if  we  may  use  our 
phrase.  Parliamentary,  that  is,  of  the  palace,  the  courts 
of  justice,  and  of  public  affairs.^  No  doubt  it  sprung, 
though  its  affiliation  is  by  no  means  clear,  out  of  the 
universal  degenerate  Latin,  the  rustic  tongue,  common 
not  in  Italy  alone,  but  in  all  the  provinces  of  the 
Roman  Empire.^     Its  first  domicile  was  the  splendid 

^  I  can  have  no  doubt  whatever  of  the  authenticity  of  the  de  Vulgari 
Eloquenti&;  contested  because  Dante  threw  aside  the  vulgar  Tuscan  or 
Florentine  as  disdainfully  as  the  rest,  and  even  preferred  the  Bolognese. 
To  a  stranger  it  is  extraordinary  that  such  an  Essay  as  that  of  Perticari 
should  be  necessary  to  vindicate  Dante  from  the  charge  of  ingratitude  and 
want  of  patriotism,  even  of  hatred  of  Florence  (Florence  which  had  exiled 
him),  because  Florentine  vanity  was  wounded  by  what  they  conceived  in- 
justice to  pure  Tuscan.  See  also  the  Preface  to  the  de  Vulgari  Eloquio  in 
tiie  excellent  edition  of  the  Opera  Minora  by  Fraticelli.    Florence,  1833. 

^  Itaque  adepti  quod  quserebamus,  dicimus,  Illustre,  Cardinale,  Aulicum 
et  Curiale  Vulgare  in  Latio,  quod  omuis  Latiaa  civitatis  est  et  nullius  esse 
Tidetur,  et  quo  municipia  Vulgaria  omnia  Latinomm  mensurantur,  ponde- 
rantur  et  comparantur.  —  Lib.  i.  cxvi. 

*  Perticari  has  some  ingenious  observations  on  the  German  conquests, 
and  the  formation  of  Italian  firom  the  Latin.  The  German  war-terms 
weic  alone  admitted  into  the  language.  But  his  theory  of  the  origin 
of  the  Romance  out  of  the  ecclesiastical  Latin  and  still  more  his  no- 
'ion  that  the  ecclesiastical  Latin  was  old  lingua  rustica,  rest  on  two 


840  LATIN  CHMSTIANITT.  Book  XIV 

Sicilian  and  Apulian  Coort  of  Frederick  II.,  and  of 
his  accomplished  son.  It  has  been  boldly  said,  that  it 
was  part  of  Frederick's  magnificent  design  of  nnivei^ 
sal  empire :  he  would  make  Italy  one  realm,  nnder  one 
king,  and  speaking  one  language.^  Dante  does  homage 
to  the  noble  character  of  Frederick  11.^  Sicily  was  the 
birthplace  of  Italian  Poetry.  The  Sicilian  Poems  lire 
to  bear  witness  to  the  truth  of  Dante's  assertion,  which 
might  rest  on  his  irrefragable  authority  alone.  The 
Poems,  one  even  earlier  than  the  Court  of  Frederick,* 

bold  and  unproved  assumptions,  though  doubtless  there  is  some  truth  in 
both:  **La  flna  indnstria  degli  Ecclesiastic],  che  in  Romano  spiegando  la 
dottrina  Evangelica,  ed  in  Romano  scrivendo  i  fatti  della  chiesa  catfcolica, 
fkceyano  del  Romano  il  linguaggio  pontifical  e  Cattolica  cio^  umvenaU, 
Ma  quetla  non  era  pid  il  Latino  illustre;  non  1'  usato  da  Lncresio  e  da  Tal- 
lio,  non  V  udito  nel  Senate  e  nella  Corta  di  Cesare;  era  quel  i  asfiVo  che  par- 
lava  r  intero  volgo  deir  Kuropa  Latina  "  (p.  92).  Still  I  know  no  treatisa 
on  the  origin  of  tihe  Italian  language  more  ftill|  more  suggestive,  or  more 
valuable  than  Perticari's. 

1  '*  Federigo  II.  esperava  a  riunire  V  Italia  sotto  un  solo  principe,una  sola 
forma  di  govemo,  e  una  sola  lingua.**  —  Foscolo  sulla  lingua  Italiana,  p. 
150.  This  essay,  printed  (1850)  in  the  fourth  volume  of  my  poor  friend's 
Works,  has  only  just  ranched  ma. 

^  Quioquid  poetantur  Itali  Sicilianum  vocatur  ....  Sed  h«c  fama  Tri- 
nacriae  ten«,  si  recte  signum  ad  quod  tendit  inspiciamus,  videtor  tantum  in 
opprobrium  Italorum  Prindpum  remansisse  qui  non  heroico  mora,  sad  pie- 
beo  saqnuntur  superbiam.  Siquidem  illnstres  hetoes  Prederieos  Csaar,  at 
bene  genitus  ejus  Manfred  us  nobilitatem  ac  rectitndinem  sum  fomue  paa- 
dentes,  donee  fortuna  permansit,  humana  necuti  sunt,  bmtalia  dedignantv, 
propter  quod  corde  nobiles  atque  gratiarum  dotati  inhsrere  tantorum  ptm- 
cipum  majestati  conati  sunt :  ita  quod  eorum  tempore  qaicqnid  ezeeUeataa 
Latinorum  nitebantur,  primitus  in  tantomm  Coronatorum  aalft  prodibat 
Et  quia  regale  solum  erat  Sicilia,  fiictum  est  quicqnid  noatri  pTasdeceasanB 
▼ulgariter  protulerunt,  Sicilianum  vocatur.  Quod  qvidem  ratineons  at 
DOS,  nee  poster!  noetri  permutare  valebunt,  Kacha!  Raoha!  Quid  none 
parsonattuba  novissimi  Frederic!?  quid  tintinnabulum  fl.  CHroli?  qaid 
comua  Johannis  et  Azzonis  Marchionnm  potcntam?  quid  attomra  MagD»- 
tom  tibis?  nisi  Venite  camifices!  Venite  altripliees!  Venite  wmritMe  aao- 
tatores.  Sed  pnestat  ad  propositnm  repedare  quam  fVnatra  loqvL  — Da 
Vulgar.  Eloquio,  i.  xii.  p.  i^.  There  is  a  splendid  tmaslatioa  of  tiua  paa- 
eige  In  Dantesque  Italian  by  Foscolo,  Discorso,  p.  256. 

*  See  the  Rosa  fresca  olentissima,  FmooIo,  deUa  LiDgna,  p.  UO. 


Chap.  V.  DANTE.  841 

those  of  Frederick  bimself,  of  Pietro  della  Vigna,^  of 
King  Enzio,  of  King  Manfred,  with  some  peculiaritieB 
in  the  formation,  orthography,  use  and  sounds  of  word., 
are  intelligible  from  one  end  of  the  peninsula  to  the 
other.^  The  language  was  echoed  and  perpetuated,  or 
rather  resounded  spontaneously,  among  poets  in  other 
districts.  This  courtly,  aristocratical,  universal  Italian 
Dante  heard  as  the  conventional  dialect  in  the  Courts 
of  the  Caesars,^  in  the  republics,  in  the  principalities 
throughout  Italy .^    Perhaps  Dante,  the  ItaUan,  the 

^  Cosi  ne*  veni  segaenti  non  v'  e  on  onico  sgnunmaticaxnento  d«  siotaui, 
B^  on  modo  d*  esprimeni  indegante,  nk  nn  solo  vocabolo  che  potta  panre 
tvoppo  tntioo. 

*'  Non  Aleo  eba  alia  vottm  gnm  biHiiw 
OxvQglio  n<m  oonT«gna  e  sUato  bena, 
Gha  a  bella  donna  orgoglio  ben  oonfene, 
Gba  la  mantene  —  in  prefio  ad  in  grandMO^ 
Troppo  alteren — e  qualla  che  seonTene. 
Dl  grnnda  oigogUo  mal  bel  non  aTtene.*' 

Poett  del  lino  See.  1.  p.  196. 
See  Foeeolo,  p.  106. 

Peter  dells  Yigna  (Peter  de  Vinca)  did  not  write  Sicilian  from  want  of 
eommand  of  Latin :  his  letters,  including  many  of  the  State  Papers  of  hia 
master  Frederick  II.,  are  of  a  much  higher  Latinity  than  most  of  his  time. 

S  See  the  passages  from  Frederick  II.  and  King  Enzio,  Foscolo,  p.  185. 

*  See,  among  other  instances,  the  pure  Italian  quoted  from  Angelati  by 
Perticari,  written  at  Milan  the  year  before  the  birth  of  Dante.  Perticari's 
graceful  essay,  as  far  as  the  eailier  Italian  poetry  may  be  compared  witii 
that  cf  Foscolo,  sulla  Lingua;  the  other  poets  Cino  da  Pistoia,  the  Gnidos 
(Foscolo  ranks  Gnido  Cavalcanti,  Dante's  best  friend,  very  high)  may  be 
read  in  a  collection  printed  at  Florence,  referred  to  in  a  former  volume. 
Kor  must  the  prose  be  forgotten;  the  history  of  Matteo  Spinelli  is  good 
imiversal  Italian.  The  maritime  code  of  Amalfi  has  been  recently  discov- 
ered, in  Italian  perfectly  intelligible  in  the  present  day.  I  owe  this  infor* 
mation  to  my  accomplished  friend  Signr.  Lacaita. 

4  La  lingua  ch*  ei  nomina  cortegiana,  e  della  quale  ei  dispnta  tuttavia,  la 
sua  fortttna  vedevola  nascere  ed  ampliarsi  per  la  perpetua  residenca  de* 
Cesari  in  Roma,  e  fra  le  republiche  e  le  tirannidi,  tutte  confuse  in  nn  lol 
reame.  Di  questo  ci  ti  pare  certissimo  come  di  legge  preordinata  delta 
Providenza  e  connessa  al  sistema  del*  Universo.  —  Compare  qnotationa, 
Foeeolo,  Discorao,  p.  954. 


842  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

Ghibelline,  the  assertor  of  the  universal  temporal  mon- 
archy, dwelt  not  less  fondly  in  his  imagination  on  this 
aniversal  and  noble  Italian  language,  because  it  would 
supersede  the  Papal  and  hierarchical  Latin  ;  the  Latin 
with  the  Pope  himself,  would  withdraw  into  the  sanc- 
tuary, into  the  service  of  the  Church,  into  affairs  purely 
spiritual. 

However  this  might  be,  to  this  vehicle  of  his  noble 
thoughts  Dante  fearlessly  intrusted  his  poetic  immor- 
tality, which  no  poet  anticipated  with  more  confident 
security.  While  the  scholar  Petrarch  condescended  to 
the  vulgar  tongue  in  his  amatory  poems,  which  he  had 
still  a  lurking  fear  might  be  but  ephemeral,  in  his  A^ 
lica  and  in  his  Latin  verses  he  laid  up,  as  he  fondly 
thought,  an  imperishable  treasure  of  fame.^  Even  Boc- 
caccio, happily  for  his  own  glory,  followed  the  example 
of  Dante,  as  he  too  probably  supposed  in  his  least 
enduring  work,  his  gay  Decamerone.  Yet  Boccaccio 
doubted,  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  whether  the  Di- 
vine Comedy  had  not  been  more  sublime,  and  therefore 
destined  to  a  more  secure  eternity  in  Latin.* 

Thus  in  Italy,  with  the  Italian  language,  of  which, 
if  he  was  not  absolutely  the  creator,  he  was  the  first 
who  gave  it  permanent  and  vital  being,  arose  one  of 

^  Compare  Petrarch's  letter  (Epist.  Fam.  xi.  12),  in  which  he  haughtilj 
Tindicates  himself  from  all  jealousy  of  Dante.  How  should  he,  who  is  the 
companion  of  Virgil  and  Homer,  be  jealous  of  one  who  enjoys  the  hoana 
Applause  of  taverns  and  markets.  I  may  add  that  Mr.  Bruce  Whyte,  in 
his  curious  volumes,  Histoire  des  Langues  Romanes,  has  given  a  careful 
analysis  of  Petrarch's  *'  Africa,"  which  he  has  actually  read,  and  diflooT> 
ered  some  passages  of  real  merit  (vol.  iii.  ch.  xl.). 

*  *'  Non  dico  per6  che  se  in  versi  Latini  fosse  (non  mutato  il  peso  delle  pa- 
role vulgari)  ch*  egli  non  fosse  molto  piii  artificioso  e  p\ii  sublime:  percio* 
ch^  molto  piu  arte  e  nel  parlare  latino  ch^  nel  modemo."  —  Boccac  Comoi. 
Div.  Com.  f.  f.  As  if  sublimity  in  poetry  consisted  in  skilful  triumph  over 
difficulty.    But  on  the  old  age  of  Boccaccio,  see  Foscolo,  p.  213. 


(^lAP.V.  TACITUS  AND  DANTE.  843 

the  great  poets  of  the  world.  There  is  a  vast  chasm 
between  the  close  of  Roman  and  the  dawn  of  Italian 
letters,  between  the  period  at  which  appeared  the  last 
creative  work  written  by  transcendent  human  genius 
in  the  Roman  language,  while  yet  in  its  consummate 
strength  and  perfection,  and  the  first,  in  which  Italian 
Poetry  and  the  Italian  tongue  came  forth  in  their  maj- 
esty ;  between  the  history  of  Tacitus  and  the  Divina 
Commedia.  No  one  can  appreciate  more  highly  than 
myself  (if  I  may  venture  to  speak  of  myself),  the  great 
works  of  ecclesiastical  Latin,  the  Vulgate,  parts  of  the 
Ritual,  St.  Augustine :  yet  who  can  deny  that  there  is 
barbarism,  a  yet  unreconciled  confusion  of  uncongenial 
elements,  of  Orientalism  and  Occideutahsm,  in  the  lan- 
guage ?  From  the  time  of  Trajan,  except  Claudian, 
Latin  letters  are  almost  exclusively  Christian ;  and 
Christian  letters  are  Latin,  as  it  were,  in  a  secondary 
and  degenerate  form.  The  new  era  opens  with  Dante. 
To  my  mind  there  is  a  singular  kindred  and  simil- 
itude between  the  last  great  Latin,  and  the  Tadtiu  and 
first  great  Italian  writer,  though  one  is  a  poet,  ^°'** 
the  other  an  historian.  Tacitus  and  Dante  have  the 
same  penetrative  truth  of  observation  as  to  man  and 
the  external  world  of  man  ;  the  same  power  of  expres- 
sing that  truth.  They  have  the  common  gift  of  flash- 
ing a  whole  train  of  thought,  a  vast  range  of  images 
on  the  mind  by  a  few  brief  and  pregnant  words ;  the 
same  faculty  of  giving  life  to  human  emotions  by  nat- 
ural images,  of  imparting  to  natural  images,  as  it  were, 
human  life  and  human  sympathies :  each  has  the  intu- 
itive judgment  of  saying  just  enough  ;  the  stern  self- 
restraint  which  will  not  say  more  than  enou!:rh  ;  the 
rare  talent  of  compressing  a  mass  of  profound  thought 


844  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

into  an  apophthegm  ;  each  paints  with  words,  with  the 
fewest  possible  words,  yet  the  picture  li\'es  and  Speaks. 
Each  has  that  relentless  moral  indignation,  that  awfbl 
power  of  satire  which  in  the  historian  condemns  to  an 
immortality  of  earthly  infamy,  in  the  Christian  Poet 
aggravates  that  gloomy  immortality  of  this  world  by 
ratifying  it  in  the  next.  Each  might  seem  to  embody 
remorse.^  Patrician,  high,  imperial,  princely.  Papal 
criminals  are  compelled  to  acknowledge  the  justice  of 
their  doom.  Each,  too,  writing,  one  of  times  jnst 
passed,  of  which  the  influences  were  strongly  felt  in  the 
social  state  and  fortunes  of  Rome :  the  other  of  his 
own,  in  which  he  had  t>een  actively  concerned,  throws 
a  personal  passion  (Dante  of  course  the  most)  into  his 
judgments  and  his  language,  which,  whatever  may  be 
its  effect  on  their  justice,  adds  wonderfully  to  their 
force  and  reality.  Each,  too,  has  a  lofty  sympathy 
with  good,  only  that  the  highest  ideal  of  Tacitus  is  m 
death-defying  Stoic,  or  an  all-accomplished  Roman  Pro- 
consul, an  Helvidius  Thrasea,  or  an  Agricola ;  that  of 
Dante  a  suffering,  and  so  purified  and  beatified  Chris* 
tian  saint,  or  martyr ;  in  Tacitus  it  is  a  majestic  and 
virtuous  Roman  matron,  an  Agrippina,  in  Dante  an 
unreal  mysterious  Beatrice. 

Dante  is  not  merely  the  religious  Poet  of  Latin  or 
mediaeval  Christianitv ;  in  him  that  mediaeval  Chris* 
tiaiiity  is  summed  up  as  it  were,  and  embodied  for  per- 
petuity. The  Divine  Comedy  contains  in  its  sublimest 
form  the  whole  mythology,  and  at  the  same  time  the 
quintessence,  the  living  substance,  the  ultimate  conclo^ 
sions  of  the  Scholastic  Theology.     The  whole  course 

1  It  is  a  saTing  attributed  to  Tallejrand  of  Tacitus,  **  QuaDd  on  lit  cet 
bomme-Ui  on  est  an  Confessional.** 


Orap.V.  DANT£*S  ghibellinism.  845 

of  Legend,  the  Demonology,  Angelology,  the  extra 
mundane  world,  which  in  the  popular  belief  was  vague, 
fragmentary,  incoherent,  in  Dante,  as  we  have  seen, 
becomes  an  actual,  visible,  harmonious  system.  In 
Dante  heathen  images,  heathen  mythology  are  blended 
in  the  same  living  reality  with  those  of  Latin  Christi- 
anity, but  they  are  real  in  the  sense  of  the  early  Chris- 
tian Fathers.  They  are  acknowledged  as  part  of  the 
vast  hostile  Demon  world,  just  as  the  Angelic  Orders, 
virhich  from  Jewish  or  Oriental  tradition  obtained  their 
first  organization  in  the  hierarchy  of  the  Areopagite. 
So,  too,  the  schools  of  Theology  meet  in  the  Poet. 
Aquinas,  it  has  been  said,  has  nothing  more  subtile  and 
metaphysical  than  the  Paradise,  only  that  in  Dante 
single  lines,  or  pregnant  stanzas,  have  the  full  meaning 
of  pages  or  chapters  of  divinity.  But  though  his  doc- 
trine is  that  of  Aquinas,  Dante  has  all  the  fervor  and 
passion  of  the  Mystics ;  he  is  Bonaventura  as  well  as 
St.  Thomas. 

Dante  was  in  all  respects  but  one,  his  Ghibellinism, 
the  religious  poet  of  his  age,  and  to  manyj^^^,, 
minds  not  less  religious  for  that  exception,  ^^wbeuinkm. 
He  was  an ti- Papal,  but  with  the  fullest  reverence  for 
the  spiritual  supremacy  of  the  successor  of  St.  Peter. 
To  him,  as  to  most  religious  Imperialists  or  Ghibellines, 
to  some  of  the  spiritual  Franciscans,  to  a  vast  host  of 
believers  throughout  Christendom,  the  Pope  was  two 
distinct  personages.  One,  the  temporal,  they  scrupled 
not  to  condemn  with  the  fiercest  reprobation,  to  hate 
with  the  bitterest  cordiality :  Dante  damns  Pontiffs  with- 
out fear  or  remorse.  But  the  other,  the  Spiritual  Pope, 
was  worthy  of  all  awe  or  reverence ;  his  sacred  person 
must  be  inviolate  ;  his  words,  if  not  infallible,  must  be 


346  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIT. 

heard  with  the  profoundest  respect ;  he  is  the  Vicar  of 
Christ,  the  representative  of  God  upon  earth.  With  his 
Ghibelline  brethren  Dante  closed  his  eyes  against  the 
incongruity,  the  inevitable  incongruity,  of  these  two  dis- 
cordant personages  meeting  in  one :  the  same  Bonifiice  is 
in  hell,  yet  was  of  such  acknowledged  sanctity  on  earth 
that  it  was  spiritual  treason  to  touch  his  awful  person. 
The  Saints  of  Dante  are  the  Saints  of  the  Church  ;  on 
the  highest  height  of  wisdom  is  St.  Thomas,  on  the 
highest  height  of  holiness,  St.  Benedict,  St.  Dominic, 
St.  Francis.  To  the  religious  adversaries  of  the  Church 
he  has  all  the  stem  remorselessness  of  an  inquisitor. 
The  noble  Frederick  II.,  whom  .we  have  just  heard  de- 
scribed as  the  parent  of  ItaUan  poetry,  the  model  of  a 
mighty  Emperor,  the  CaBsar  of  Caesars,  is  in  hell  as 
an  archheretic,  as  an  atheist.^  In  hell,  in  the  same 
dreary  circle,  up  to  his  waist  in  fire,  is  the  noblest  of 
the  Ghibellines,  Farinata  degli  Uberti.  In  heU  for  the 
same  sin  is  the  father  of  his  dearest  friend  and  brother 
poet  Guido  Cavalcanti.  Whatever  latent  sympathy 
seems  to  transpire  for  Fra  Dolcino,  he  is  unrelentingly 
thrust  down  to  the  companionship  of  Mohammed.  The 
Catholic  may  not  reverse  the  sentence  of  the  Church. 

Petrarch,  as  an  Italian  poet,  excepting  in  his  Ode 
Petnrch.  to  the  Virgin,  stands  almost  aloof  from  the 
mediaBval  religion ;  it  is  only  as  a  Latin  poet,  and  in 
his  familiar  Letters,  that  he  inveighs  against  the  vices, 
the  irreligion  of  the  Court  of  Avignon. 

Boccaccio,  the  third  of  this  acknowledged  Trium- 
Boeeaccio.  viratc,  was,  on  the  other  hand,  in  his  one 
great  work,  unquestionably  as   regards  the  dominant 

1  Inferno,  x.  1119.    Piero  della  Vigna  Mils  him  — 

**  Al  into  Signor,  obe  tu  d*  amor  si  degno."  —  Inferno^  ziU.  76. 


Chap.v.  the  decamerone.  347 

religion  of  his  times,  its  monkhood  and  hierarchism, 
the  most  irreligious,  on  account  of  his  gross  immo- 
ralities, to  all  ages  an  irreligious  writer.  The  De- 
camerone centres  in  itself  all  the  wit,  all  the  inde- 
cency, all  the  cleverest  mockery  of  the  French  and 
Provencal  Fabliaux,  and  this  it  has  clothed  in  that 
exquisite,  all-admired  Florentine  which  has  secured 
its  undying  fame.  The  awfiil  description  of  the 
Plague  in  Florence  has  been  compared,  but  by  no 
means  with  justice,  to  that  of  Thucydides  and  that 
of  Lucretius.  This  grave  opening  of  the  Decame- 
rone might  be  expected  to  usher  in  a  book  of  the  pro- 
foundest  devotion,  the  most  severe,  ascetic  penitential. 
After  this,  another  Dante  might  summon  the  smitten 
city  to  behold  its  retributive  doom  in  the  Infernal 
Regions;  a  premature  Savonarola  might  thunder  his 
denunciations,  and  call  on  Florence,  thus  manifestly 
mider  divine  visitation,  to  cast  all  her  pomps  and 
vanities,  her  ornaments,  her  instruments  of  luxury, 
upon  the  frineral  pyre ;  to  sit  and  lament  in  dust  and 
ashes.  This  terrific  opening  leads,  but  not  in  bitter 
irony,  to  that  other  common  consequence  of  such 
dark  visitations,  the  most  reckless  license.  Tale  fol- 
lows tale,  gradually  sinking  from  indecency  into  ob- 
scenity, from  mockery  to  utter  profaneness.  The 
popular  religion,  the  popular  teachers,  are  exposed 
with  the  coarsest,  most  reckless  pleasantry.  Eras- 
mus, two  centuries  later,  does  not  scoff  with  more 
playful  freedom  at  pilgrimages,  relics,  miracles:  Vol- 
taire himself,  still  two  centuries  after  Erasmus,  hardly 
strips  their  sanctity  from  monks,  nuns  and  friars,  with 
more  unsparing  wit.  Nothing,  however  sung  or  told 
in  satiric  verse  or  prose  against  the  Court  of  Rome, 


848  LATIN  CHRISTIAKITY.  Book  XIV 

can  equal  the  exquisite  malice  of  the  story  of  the  Jew 
converted  to  Christianity  by  a  visit  to  Rome,  because 
no  religion  less  than  divine  could  have  triumphed  over 
the  enormous  wickedness  of  its  chief  teachers,  the 
Cardinals,  and  the  Pope.  Strange  age  of  which  the 
grave  Dante  and  the  gay  Boccaccio  are  the  repre- 
sentatives! in  which  the  author  of  the  Decamerone 
is  the  biographer  of  Dante,  the  commentator  on  the 
Divine  Comedy,  expounding,  pointing,  echoing,  as  it 
were,  in  the  streets  of  Florence  the  solemn  denuncia* 
tions  of  the  poet.  More  strange,  if  possible,  the  his- 
tory of  the  Decamerone.  Boccaccio  himself  bitterly- 
repented  of  his  own  work:  he  solemnly  warned  the 
youth  of  Florence  against  his  own  loose  and  pro&ne 
novels ;  the  scoffer  at  fictitious  relics  became  the  la- 
borious collector  of  relics  not  less  doubtful;  the 
scourge  of  the  friars  died  in  the  arms  of  friars,  be- 
queathing to  them  his  manuscripts,  hoping  only  for 
salvation  through  their  prayers.^  Yet  the  disowned 
and  proscribed  Decamerone  became  the  text-book  of 
pure  Italian.  Florence,  the  capital  of  letters,  insisted 
on  the  indefeasible  prerogative  of  the  Florentine  diar 
lect,  and  the  Decamerone  was  ruled  to  be  the  one 
example   of   Florentine.      The    Church    was    embar- 


1  See  in  the  works  of  Petrarch  the  very  curious  letter  to  Boccaccio,  dm 
Vaticinio  Morientium,  Opera,  p.  740.  Boccaccio  had  writteD  in  a  parox- 
jrsm  of  Buperstitious  terror  to  Petrarch  concerning  the  prophecies  of  a  cer- 
tain holy  roan,  Peter  of  Sienna,  on  the  death  of  the  two  poets.  Petrarch 
evidently  does  not  believe  a  word  of  what  had  frightened  poor  Boccaccio. 
He  alleges  many  causes  of  sui^picion.  "  Non  extenuo  vaticinii  pondus, 
quicquid  a  Christo  dicitiir  verum  est.  Fieri  nequit  ut  Veritas  mentiatnr.  At 
id  quseritur  Christiame  rei  hujus  autor  sit,  an  alter  quispiam  ad  oommeDti 
fidem,  quod  stepe  vidimus,  Christi  nomen  assumpserit."  The  poet  rnges 
Boccaccio,  at  great  length,  not  to  abandon  letters,  but  only  the  lighter  let- 
tan  of  his  youth. 


Ciup.  Y.  THE  DECAMERONS.  849 

rassed ;  in  vain  the  Decamerone  was  corrected,  muti- 
lated, interpolated,  and  indecencies,  profanenesses .  an- 
nulled, erased:  all  was  without  effect;  the  Decame- 
rone must  not  be  degraded  from  its  high  and  exem- 
plary authority.  The  purity  of  morals  might  suffer, 
the  purity  of  the  language  must  remain  unattainted ; 
till  at  length  an  edition  was  published  in  which  the 
abbesses  and  nuns,  who  were  enamored  of  their  gar- 
deners, became  pro&ne  matrons  and  damsels ;  friars, 
who  wrought  felse  miracles,  necromancers;  adulter- 
ous priests,  soldiers.  But  this  last  bold  effort  of 
Jesuitical  ingenuity  was  without  effect:  the  Decame- 
rone was  too  strong  for  the  censure  in  all  its  forms ; 
it  shook  off  its  fetters,  obstinately  refused  to  be  altered, 
as  before  it  had  refused  tp  be  chastened ;  and  remains 
to  this  day  at  once  the  cleverest  and  bitterest  satire, 
and  the  most  curious  illustration  of  the  religion  of  the 
age.1 

1  '^FmalnTente  nn  Dominicano  Italiano  e  di  natun  pid  facile  (chiamavasi 
Kiuftaehio  Locatelli,  e  mori  tmcovo  a  Reggio)  vi  b'  iiiterpo«e  «  per  essere 
•tato  confeflsore  de  Pio  V.,  impetr6  di  Gregorio  XIII.  che  il  Decamerone 
non  fosse  matilato,  se  non  in  quanto  bisognava  il  buono  nome  degli  Eccle- 
tiastici.*'  —  P.  249.  The  account  of  the  whole  transaction  at  length  may 
bt  read  in  the  Disoorso  prefixed  to  Foscolo's  edition  of  the  Decamerone, 
London,  1S25.  Compare  the  fifth  and  sixth  discourse  of  Foscolo;  the  most 
juftt  criticism  with  which  I  am  acquainted  on  Boccaccio,  his  merits,  his  in- 
fluence, his  style,  and  his  language.  I  quote  Boccaccio's  will  on  Foscolo's 
authority.  There  is  nothing  new  under  the  sun,  nothing  obsolete.  I  pos- 
sess a  translation  of  Eugene  Sue's  Wandering  Jew,  printed  on  the  coarsest 
paper,  the  rudest  type,  and  cheapest  form,  obviously  intended  for  the  lower 
Boman  Catholics,  in  which  the  Jesuit  becomes  a  Russian  spy;  all  that  is 
religious  is  transformed  into  political  satire. 


850  LATm  CHBISTIANITT.  Book  XIY 


CHAPTER  VI. 

LANGUAGE  OF  FRANCE. 

Ik 

Nothing  is  more  remarkable  in  the  civil  or  in  the 

« 

Fnno«.  religious  history  of  the  West,  nothing  led  to 
more  momentous  or  enduring  results,  than  the  seces- 
sion, as  it  were,  of  the  great  kingdom  of  France  from 
the  Teutonic,  and  its  adhesion  to  the  Latin  division  of 
Christendom  ;  the  fidelity  of  its  language  to  its  Roman 
descent,  and  its  repudiation  of  the  German  conqueror. 
For  about  four  centuries,  loosely  speaking,  Gaul,  fix>m 
the  days  of  Julius  CaBsar,  was  a  province  of  the  Roman 
Empire.  During  that  period  it  became  Romanized  in 
manners,  institutions,  language.  The  Celtic  dialect 
was  driven  up  into  the  North- Western  comer  of  the 
land.  If  it  subsisted,  as  seems  to  have  been  the  case 
in  the  time  of  Irenaeus,  still  later  in  that  of  Jerome,  or 
in  the  fifth  century,^  as  the  dialect  of  some  of  the  peaa- 


^  Aooording  to  Ulpian  in  the  second  century  wilb  might  be  drawn  m 
Latin  or  in  the  language  of  Gaul,  the  Celtic  therefore  had  a  legal  existence. 
St.  Jerome  in  the  fourth  century  compares  the  language  of  the  Asiatic  Ga- 
latians  with  that  which  he  had  heard  spoken  in  the  neighborhood  of 
Treves.  lA  the  fifth,  Sulpicius  Severus  desires  one  of  the  interlocutors  is 
a  dialogue  to  speak  in  Gallic  or  Celtic  (Dialog,  i.  tub^ne).  Sidonius  Apol- 
linarius  says  that  the  nobles  of  his  province  (Auve^gne)  had  only  jnut 
cast  off  all  the  scales  of  their  Celtic  speech:  this  may  have  been  the  pro- 
Donciation.  The  father  of  Ausonius,  a  physician  at  Bazas  in  Aquitaine, 
spoke  Latin  imperfectly.  Compare  Ampere,  Hist.  Lit.  de  la  Fnmoe,  pp.  36 
and  136. 


Cbaf.TL  FRENCH  LANGUAGS.  351 

antrj  ;  if  it  left  its  vestiges  in  the  names  of  plains,  of 
forests  and  mountains ;  if  even  some  sounds  and  words 
found  their  way  into  the  supervening  Latin,  and  be- 
came a  feeble  constituent  of  French  ;  yet  there  can  be 
no  doubt  that  the  great  mass  of  the  French  language, 
both  the  Langue  d'Oil  of  the  North,  and  the  Langue 
d'Oc  of  the  South,  is  of  Latin  origin.^ 

For  about  four  centuries,  Teutonic  tribes,  Goths, 
Bnrgundians,  Alemannians,  Franks,  ruled  in  Gaul, 
from  the  first  inroad  and  settlement  of  the  Visigoths  in 
the  South,  down  to  the  third  generation  after  Charle- 
magne. Clovis  and  his  race,  Charlemagne  and  his  im« 
mediate  descendants,  were  Teutons;  the  language  at 
the  Court  of  Soissons,  in  the  capitals  of  Neustria  and 
Austrasia,  as  afterwards  in  that  of  Charlemagne  at 
Aix-la-Chapelle,  was  German.  Nor  was  it  only  so  in 
the  Court ;  there  were  Germans  throughout  the  Frank- 
ish  realm  of  Charlemagne.  The  Council  of  Tours 
enacts  that  every  Bishop  should  have  homilies  in  both 
languages ;  he  should  be  able  to  expound  them  in  the 
rustic  Roman  and  in  the  Teutonic,  so  as  to  be  intelligi- 
ble to  the  whole  people.^ 

But  the  grandsons  of  Charlemagne  behold  Latin  and 
Teutonic  nationality,  the  Latin  and  Teutonic  sepamtioa. 
language,  dividing  the  Western  Empire.    The  *^'^'  ®*^' 
German  is  withdrawing,  if  not  beyond  the  Rhine,  to 

^  M.  Faariel  (Histoire  de  la  Po^sie  Provenpale,  i.  p.  195)  observes  of  the 
Provencal  that  there  are  more  words  not  of  Latin  origin  than  is  commonly 
supposed.  He  had  collected  3000.  The  whole  Proven^nl  literature  might 
perhaps  famish  him  as  many.  A  great  part  he  could  trace  to  no  known 
language.  Some  few  are  Arabic,  many  Greek,  some  Celtic,  some  Basque; 
not  above  fifteen  Teutonic.    The  whole  inveittigation  is  worthy  of  study. 

^A.  D.  812.  Labbe,  Concil.  vii.  1263.  This  injunction  was  renewed  at 
Bheims  and  at  Mentz  a.  i>.  847.  There  are  firagments  of  old  Grerman  ser 
mons.  —  Raumer,  p.  66. 


852  XATDT  CHRISIXAJNITT.  Book  XI Y. 

the  provinces  bordering  on  the  Rhine ;  Latin  is  resunn 
ing  its  full  dominion  over  France  and  the  French  lan- 
guage. At  Strasburg,  only  thirty  years  after  the 
Council  of  Toui-s,  France  has  become  French,  Ger- 
many German.  The  two  Kings  of  the  same  race, 
equally  near  in  blood  to  Charlemagne,  take  their  oaths 
in  languages  not  only  dialectically  different^  but  distinct 
in  root  and  origin.  Germany  still  recedes,  leaving  but 
few  traces  of  its  long  dominion ;  the  Celtic  element 
probably  contributes  more  to  the  French  language  than 
the  German.  In  truth  the  Germans  after  all  were  bat 
an  armed  oligarchy  in  France,  like  the  Turks  in  their 
European  provinces,  but  by  no  means  so  inaccessibly 
shut  up  in  their  Oriental  habits,  in  their  manners,  in 
their  religion.  Even  in  the  Visigothic  South,  no  sooner 
had  the  conquest  passed  over,  than  the  native  language, 
or  rather  the  naturalized  Latin,  reasserted  its  indepen- 
dence, its  jealous  and  exclusive  superiority :  and  this, 
although  the  Goths  were  routed  and  driven  out  by 
another  Teutonic  race,  the  Franks  of  the  North. 
France  returned  entirely  to  its  Latinity ;  and  from  its 
rustic  Roman  gradually  formed  that  language  which 
was  to  have  such  wide  influence  on  later  civilization. 

In  this  conservation  of  France  to  Latin  and  Latin 
Christianity,  no  doubt  Latin  Christianity,  and  the  hie- 
rarchy so  long,  even  under  the  German  sway,  of  Latin 
descent,  powerftdly  contributed.  The  unity  of  religion 
in  some  degree  broke  down  the  barrier  between  the  Teu- 
ton and  the  Roman  Graul ;  they  worshipped  the  same 
God  in  the  same  Church  ;  looked  for  absolution  from 
their  sins,  trembled  before,  or  sought  humbly  the  coun- 
sel of  the  same  Priest.  But  the  Clergy,  as  has  been 
seen,  remained  long  almost  exclusively  Roman.     The 


chaf.  yu  the  kobmans.  358 

Teutons,  who  aspired  to  the  high  places  of  the  Church 
(for  the  services  remained  olstinately  Roman),  were 
compelled  to  possess  one  qualification,  the  power  of 
ministering  in  that  Latin  service.  The  most  rude, 
most  ignorant,  most  worldly  Bishop  or  Priest  must 
leam  something,  and  that  lesson  must  he  the  recitation 
at  least,  or  pronunciation  of  Latin.  Charlemagne's 
achools,  wherever  the  Teutonic  element  was  the  fee- 
blest, would  teach  in  the  Rustic  Roman,  or  the  Roman 
more  or  less  rapidly  tending  to  its  new  form.  At  least 
in  the  Church  and  in  the  Cloister  the  Latin  ruled  with- 
out rival ;  among  the  people  the  Latin  element  was  far 
the  stronger :  the  stronger  is  ever  aggressive ;  and  the 
Teutonic  was  by  degrees  renounced,  and  driven  tow- 
ards the  Rhine,  or  over  the  Rhine.  The  German 
Teuton,  mindful  of  his  descent,  might  still  call  himself 
a  Frank,  but  the  Gallic  Frank  had  ceased  to  be  a  Geiv 
man.^ 

It  is  not  the  least  singular  &ct  in  the  history  of  the 
French  language,  that  another  German,  or  ^h©  not- 
kindred  Scandinavian  race,  wrests  a  large  °*°'' 
province  from  France.  Normandy  takes  its  name  from 
its  Norman  conquerors :  the  land,  according  to  Teu- 
tonic usage,  is  partitioned  among  those  adventurers ; 
they  are  the  lords  of  the  soil.  In  an  exceedingly  short 
time   the   Normans   cease  to   be   Teutons ;    they  are 

^  In  tfaa  epitaph  on  Gregory  V.  (997),  he  is  said  to  have  spoken  three 
languages:  Prankish  (Gennan),  the  Vulgar  (Romance  or  Italian),  and 
Latin:  — 

"  Uins  Francifleft,  rulgari,  et  Toce  Latinft 
InBtitoit  popolos  eloqnio  tripliei." 

Gregory  (Bruno,  cousin  of  the  Emperor  Otho)  was  a  Gkrman.  —  Muiator. 
Diss.  ii.  91.  At  this  time  in  Italy  traces  of  Italian  begin  to  appear  in  wills 
and  deeds.  —  Ibid.  p.  93. 

VOL.  VTII.  28 


864  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

French  or  Latin  in  language.  About  a  century  and  a 
A.D.  912-  '^^'f  ^^^^  ^^^  establishment  of  the  Normans 
1066.  ,  jjj  France,  the  descendants  of  RoUo  conquer 
Dngland,  and  the  Conqueror  introduces  not  a  kindred 
dialect,  but  the  hostile  and  oppugnant  Norman-French, 
into  Anglo-Saxon  England.  The  imposition  of  this 
foreign  tongue,  now  the  exclusive  language  of  the  Nor- 
mans, is  the  last  and  incontestable  sign  of  their  com* 
plete  victory  over  the  native  inhabitants.  This  is  not 
the  less  extraordinary  when  the  Italian  Normans  also 
are  found  for  some  time  obstinately  refusing  to  become 
Italians.  They  endeavor  to  compel  the  Italians  to 
adopt  their  French  manners  and  language  ;  histories 
of  the  Norman  conquest  are  written  at  Naples  or  with- 
in the  kingdom,  in  Norman-French.^  The  dialect  has 
adopted  some  Italian  words,  but  it  is  still  French.' 
Thus  within  France  Teutonism  absolutely  and  entirely 
surrenders  its  native  tongue,  and  becomes  in  the  North 
and  in  the  South  of  Europe  a  powerful  propagator  of 
a  language  of  Latin  descent. 

It  is  not  the  office  of  this  history  to  trace  the  obscure 
growth  of  the  French  language  out  of  the  preexisting 
elements  —  the  primal  Celtic  and  the  Latin.  It  most 
not  be  forgotten  that  higher  up  the  Celtic  and  the  Latin 
branch  off  from  the  same  family  —  the  Indo-Teutonic :  • 

1  **  MoriboB  et  linguflL  quoMiinqoe  Toilre  Tidebuit, 
Inlbmuuit  propria  gens  efflcfattnr  Qt  unnm.'- 

—  Qui.  Appal.  lib.  1. ;  Hnntorif  ▼.  SG6. 

1  Compare  on  this  subject  M.  Champollion  Figeac^s  preface  to  the  French 
Chronicle  of  the  Italian  Normans,  "  Les  Normans  '*  (publication  of  the 
Soci^t^  Ilistorique),  p.  xliv.,  &c.  with  the  references  to  Falconet,  Lebcsal^ 
Le  Grand  d'Aussy,  and  Tiiaboschi. 

S  This  fact  in  the  history  of  language,  first  established  by  onr  ooantiy- 
man,  Dr.  Prichard,  in  his  Essay  on  the  Eastern  Origin  of  the  Celtic  Na> 
tions,  is  now  admitted  by  all  writers  of  authority.    See  also  the  exeelleDt 


Chap.  VI.  THE  LANGU£  D'OC.  856 

SO  that  the  actual  roots  of  French  words  may  be  rea- 
sonably deduced  from  either.  The  Christian  language, 
all  the  titles,  terms,  and  words  which  related  to  the 
religion,  were  doubtless  pure  Latin,  and  survived,  but 
slightly  modified,  in  the  French.  Pronunciation  is 
among  the  most  powerful  agents  in  the  change  and 
formation  of  language,  in  the  silent  abrogation  of  the 
old,  the  silent  crystallization  of  the  new.  Certain  races, 
nations,  tribes,  families,  have  a  predilection,  a  predispo- 
sition, a  facility  for  the  utterance  of  certain  sounds. 
They  prefer  labial  or  guttural,  hard  or  sof);  letters; 
they  almost  invariably  substitute  the  mute,  the  surd, 
or  the  aspirate  letter  for  its  equivalent ;  there  is  an 
uniformity,  if  not  a  rule  of  change,  either  from  organ- 
ism or  habit.  The  Italian  delights  in  the  termination 
of  words  with  a  soft  vowel,  the  Langne  d'Oc  with  a 
consonant,  the  French  with  a  mute  vowel.  The  Latih 
of  the  Ritual  beini;  a  written  lan^cuage,  in  its  sflbet  of 
structure  as  well  as  in  its  words  would  inflex-  aerrice. 
ibly  refuse  all  change  ;  it  would  not  take  the  auxiliary 
Terb  in  place  of  its  conjugations,  the  article  or  the  prep- 
osition to  designate  its  cases ;  it  would  adhere  to  its 
own  declensions,  conjugations,  inflections,  and  thus  &r 
would  stand  aloof  from  the  gradual  change  going  on 
around  it ;  it  would  become  in  so  far  unintelligible  to 
the  vulgar  ear.  But  not  only,  the  roots  remaining  the 
same,  would  the  great  mass  of  the  words  retain  their 
significance ;  there  would  also  be  some  approximation 
in  the  tone  and  accent.  The  Clergy,  being  chiefly  of 
the  country,  and  in  their  ordinary  conversation  using 


treatise  of  M.  Pictet,  *'  L* Affinity  des  Langues  Celtiqaes  avec  le  Sontcrit." 
Mr.  Bruce  Whyte  was  unfortunately  not  master  of  this  branch  of  Philology 
grfaich  sapenedea  at  once  or  modifiea  hia  whole  system. 


856  LATIN   CHRISTUNITY.  Book  XIV. 

the  language  of  the  country,  would  pronounce  their 
Latin  with  a  propensity  to  the  same  sounds  which  were 
forming  the  French.  Latin  as  pronounced  by  an  Ital^ 
ian,  a  Frenchman,  or  a  Spaniard,  during  the  formation, 
and  after  the  formation,  of  the  new  tongue,  would  have 
a  tinge  of  Italian,  French,  or  Spanish  in  its  utterance. 
The  music  being  common  throughout  the  Church  might 
perhaps  prevent  any  wide  deviation,  but  whatever  de- 
viation there  might  be  would  tend  to  make  the  meaning 
of  the  words  more  generally  and  easily  comprehensible* 
So  there  would  be  no  precise  time  when  the  Latin  Rit- 
ual would  become  at  once  and  perceptibly  a  foreign 
tongue ;  the  common  rustic  Roman,  or  the  Romance, 
if  not  the  offspring  was  probably  akin  to  the  ecclesias- 
tical Latin,  at  all  events  all  Church  words  or  terms 
would  form  part  of  it.  And  so  on  the  one  hand  Latin 
Christianity  would  have  a  powerful  influence  in  the 
creation  of  the  new  language,  and  at  the  same  time 
never  be  an  unintelligible  stranger,  hers  would  be 
rather  a  sacred  and  ancient  form  of  the  same  language 
among  her  lineal  and  undoubted  descendants. 

The  early  poetry  of  the  Langue  d'Oil  was  either  the 
Legend  or  the  Poem  of  Chivalry.  The  Trouvdre  of 
the  North  was  far  more  creative  than  the  Troubadour 
of  the  South.  In  his  lighter  Fabliaux  the  Trouv^re 
makes  no  less  free  with  the  Christian  Clergy  and  with 
Christian  morals  than  his  brother  of  the  South,  but  his 
is  the  freedom  of  gayety  or  of  licentiousness,  not  of  bit- 
ter hatred,  or  pitiless,  and  contemptuous  satire.  There 
is  nothing  of  the  savage  seriousness  of  the  Provencal.' 

1  It  must  not  be  forgotten  that  Brunetto  Latini,  the  master  of  Dante  (so 
little  prescient  was  he  of  the  glory  of  bis  pupil),  wrote  his  Tesoretto  not  ia 
Italian  but  in  French,  as  of  all  the  vernacular  tongues  the  most  likely  to  be 
enduring. 


Chap.  VI.  ROMANCE  POETBY.  857 

But  the  higher  Epopee  of  the  Northern  Trouvdre 
was  almost  contemporaneous  in  its  rise  with  the  Cru- 
sades ;  its  flourishing  period  was  that  of  the  Crusades, 
and  as  far  as  that  was  a  real  and  actual  state  of  soci- 
ety, of  Chivalry.  It  is  the  heroic  poetry  of  medi- 
aeval Christianity.  The  Franks  were  the  warriors,  the 
Franks  the  poets  of  the  Cross.  In  both  the  great  Cy- 
cles, of  Charlemagne  and  his  Peers,  of  Arthur  and  the 
Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  in  the*  subordinate  cycles, 
as  of  Rinaldo,  or  the  four  Sons  of  Aymon,  the  hero 
was  ever  a  Christian  knight,  the  enemy,  whether  knight, 
giant,  or  even  dragon,  was  antichristian,  Saracen,  mi*, 
believer,  or  devil.  Charlemagne's  war  is  of  the  West 
against  the  East,  of  Latin  Christianity  against  Islam  ; 
the  Grascons  and  the  Basques  at  Roncesvalles  become 
the  splendid  Saracens  of  Spain  ;  the  whole  misbeliev- 
ing Elast  is  gathered  around  Christian  Paris.  The 
Church  avouched  the  wonders  of  Archbishop  Turpin, 
adopted  the  noble  fictions  about  Charlemagne  and  his 
Peers.  These  became  part  of  authorized  Christian 
Legend,  when  Legend  and  History  were  one  ;  when  it 
would  have  been  equal  impiety  to  assert  the  mythic 
character  of  the  former  as  that  of  the  authentic  Gos- 
pel.^ So,  too,  whether  Arthur  and  his  Knights  sprung, 
as  is  most  probable,  from  Breton  or  from  British  lays, 
the  Saxondom  of  his  foes  recedes,  the  Paganism,  even 
the  Saracenism  takes  its  place.  It  is  not  the  ancient 
British  King  and  his  British  warriors  warring  with 
Saxons  and  Anglians  on  the  borders  of  Wales,  Cum- 
berland, or  Cornwall  for  the  dominion  of  Britain ;  it 
is  the  Christian  King  and  the  Christian  Knight  waging 
a  general  war  of  adventure  against  unbelievers.     It  is 

1  Tiraboflchi,  1.  t. 


858  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

not  the  independence  of  Britain,  it  is  tke  mystic  San- 
greal,  the  cup  with  the  blood  of  the  Redeemer,  which 
is  the  holy  object,  the  ideal  reward  of  their  valor ;  it  is 
to  be  the  triumph  of  the  most  chaste  and  virtuous  as 
well  as  of  the  bravest  knight.  The  sons  of  Ajmon 
are  Southern  knights  keeping  the  Spanish  borders 
(Spain  reserved  her  Cid  for  her  own  noble  old  poem), 
but  the  Sons  of  Aymon  are  adopted  Northerns ;  the 
Troubadour  Poetry  knows  little  or  nothing  of  their 
chivalry.  Toulouse  owns  only  her  own  unidealized, 
unromanticized  Counts:  the  few  Provencal  poems  of 
chivalry  are  of  doubtfiil  origin  :  their  Epic  is  the  dull 
verse  chronicle  of  the  Albigensian  War. 

But,  after  all,  in  this  inexhaustible  fecundity  of  her 
Romance,  whether  from  the  rudeness  and  imperfection 
of  the  language  at  this  period  of  her  prolific  creative* 
ness,  or  from  some  internal  inaptitude  in  French  for 
this  high  class  of  poetry,  from  want  of  vigor,  metrical 
harmony,  and  variety,  or  even  iron  its  excellence,  its 
analytical  clearness  and  precision,  the  MediaBval  Poe- 
try of  Northern  France,  with  all  its  noble,  chivalrous, 
and  crusading  impulses,  called  forth  no  poet  of  endur- 
ing fame.  The  Homer  of  this  race  of  cyclic  poets  was 
to  be  an  Italian.  It  was  not  till  these  poems  had  sunk 
into  popular  tales ;  till,  from  the  poem  recited  in  the 
castle  or  the  court  of  the  King  or  the  Baron,  they  had 
become  disseminated  among  the  people ;  ^  not  till  they 

1  *'  Tutte  le  menviglie  ch*  oggi  legguuno  n6  romanzi  o  poemi,  che  baimo 
per  snggetto  i  Paladini,  erano  allora  raccontate  al  popolo  dai  novellatori; 
e  quest*  uso  rimane  in  alcane  cittii  e  specialmente  in  Venezia  e  in  Kapoli 
rino  a  quest*  ultimi  anni.  Chinnque  non  sapeva  leggere,  si  raoco^era 
quasi  ogni  sera  d*e8tate  intorno  il  noveUatore  su  la  riva  del  mare,**  &c  &c. 
FoscolOi  DiscorsOi  ▼.  p.  229.  This  accounts  at  once  for  the  adoption  of  socfa 
subjects  by  Pulci,  BoiardO|  and  Ariosto,  when  the  high  tide  of  classical  let- 


Chap.  YI.  MEMOIBS.  859 

had  spread  into  Italy,  and  as  the  ^'  Reali  di  Francia  '* 
had  been  over  and  over  again  recited  bj  the  profes- 
sional story-tellers,  and  been  rudely  versified  by  hum- 
bler poets,  that  they  were  seized  first  by  the  bold  and 
accomplished  Boiardo,  afterwards  by  the  inimitable 
Ariosto,  and  in  their  full  ancient  spirit,  yet  with  some 
fine  modem  irony,  bequeathed  to  mankind  in  the  most 
exquisite  and  harmonious  Italian.  Even  the  Crusades 
were  left  to  the  gentle  and  romantic  Tasso,  when  the 
religious  fire  of  the  Crusades  and  of  Chivalry  was  all 
but  extinct  in  its  cold  faint  embers. 

But  if  the  Crusades,  and  by  the  Crusades  Latin 
Christianity,  did  not  create  enduring  French  poetry, 
they  created  the  form  of  history  in  which  France  has 
excelled  all  Europe.  Perhaps  of  vernacular  history, 
properly  so  called,  the  Florentine  Villani  is  the  parent ; 
of  political  history,  Dino  Compagni ;  but  that  history, 
which  delights  from  its  reality  and  truth,  as  springing 
from  the  personal  observation,  instinct  with  the  per- 
sonal character,  alive  with  all  the  personal  feelings  of 
the  historian,  the  model  and  type  of  the  delightftil  Me- 
moir, is  to  be  found  first  in  Villehardouin  and  Joinville, 
to  rise  to  still  higher  perfection  in  Froissart  and  in  De 
Comines.  No  cold  later  epic  on  St.  Louis  will  rival 
the  poetry  of  Joinville. 

tera  had  not  paised  away;  as  well  as  for  the  unboanded  popularity  of  their 
poems,  and  of  countless  other  epics,  once  common  as  the  stones  in  the 
streets,  now  the  rarities  of  the  choicest  libraries. 


860  LATIN   CHJaSTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

TEUTONIC  LANGUAGES. 

In  all  the  Romance  languages,  as  it  has  appeared, 
Teutonic  ^^  ^^^  languages  of  Latin  descent,  Italian, 
langoagcfl.  French  both  in  its  northern  and  southern 
form,  Spanish  in  all  its  dialects,  the  religious  vocab- 
ulary, every  word  which  expressed  Christian  notions, 
or  described  Christian  persons,  was  Latin,  only  length* 
ened  out  or  shortened,  deflected,  or  moulded,  according 
to  the  genius  of  each  tongue ;  they  were  the  same 
words  with  some  difierence  of  pronunciation  or  form, 
but  throughout  retaining  their  primal  sense :  the  words, 
even  if  indistinctly  understood,  had  at  least  an  asso- 
ciated significance,  they  conveyed,  if  not  fully,  partially 
to  all,  their  proper  meaning. 

In  the  Teutonic  languages  it  was  exactly  the  reverse. 
For  all  the  primal  and  essential  Christian  notions  the 
German  found  its  own  words  ;  it  was  only  what  may 
be  called  the  Church  terms,  the  ecclesiastical  functions 
and  titles,  which  it  condescended  or  was  compelled  to 
borrow  from  the  Latin;^     The  highest  of  all,  "  God," 

i  M.  Regnier,  in  a  M^moire  in  the  last  year's  Transactions  of  the  Acade- 
my (p.  324 )f  has  stimmed  up  in  a  few  clear  French  sentences,  the  substance 
of  a  learned  work  by  Rudolf  Raumer,  which  I  have  read  with  much  profit 
'*  Die  Einwirkung  des  Christenthums  auf  die  althochdeutsche  Sprache.** 
Berlin,  1851.  "  Un  fait  remarquable,  et  qui  prouve  bien  avec  quel  soin  ja- 
loox  la  langae  se  conservait  pure  de  tonte  melange  ^trangdre,  c'est  qu'aa 


Chap.  VIL  TEUTONISM.  361 

with  all  its  derivatives,  the  '^  Godhead,  godlj,  god- 
like," was  in  sound  entirely  remote  from  ^^  Deus,  the 
deity,  the  divinity,  the  divioe."  As  to  the  attribates 
of  God,  the  German  had  his  own  word  for  almighti- 
neesj  for  the  titles  the  all-merciful  or  all-gracious.^  For 
the  Trinity,  indeed,  as  in  all  Indo-Teutonic  languages, 
the  numerals  are  so  nearly  akin,  that  there  would  be  at 
least  a  close  assonance,  if  not  identity,  in  the  words ; 
and  the  primitive  word  for  "  fiither  "  is  so  nearly  an 
universal,  that  the  Latin  "Pater"  might  be  dimly 
discerned  under  the  broader,  Teutonic  pronunciation, 
"Fader."  But  the  "Son  and  the  Holy  Ghost "« 
were  pure,  unapproaching  Teuton.  The  names  ot 
the  Saviour,  "  Jesus,"  and  "  the  Christ,"  passed  of 
course  into  the  creed  and  ritual ;  but  the  "  Lord," 
and  the  German  "  Herr,"  were  Teuton,  as  were  the 
^^  healer,  health,"  for  the  "  Saviour  and  salvation,"  the 
"atonement"  for  the  "propitiation."®  In  the  older 
versions  the  now  ignoble  words  "  hanging  and  the  gal- 
lows" were  used  instead  of  the  Crucifixion  and  the 
Cross :  the  "  Resurrection  "  takes  the  German  form.* 
The  "  Angels  and  the  Devils  "  underwent  but  littltf 
change ;  but  all  the  special  terms  of  the  Gospel,  "  the 

moment  mdme  de  rintrodaction  du  Christianisme,  qni  apportait  tant 
d^ldien  nouvelles,  elle  n*eut  pas  besoin  d'emprunter  au  Grec  et  an  Latin  lea 
mots  qui  les  rendaient,  que  ses  propres  ressources  lui  saffirent  en  grande  par- 
tie,  Burtout  pour  I'expreMion  des  sentiments  qui  appartenaient  4  la  foi 
Chr^tienne,  et  que  ce  ne  fut  fpi^re  que  pour  Torganisation  ext^rieure  de 
TEglise,  qu*elle  reput  en  partie  du  dehors  les  mots  avec  les  fkits.*'  —  In  a 
note  M.  Begnier  illustrates  these  assertions  by  examples,  many  of  them  the 
same  as  those  cited  in  my  text. 

^  Compounds  from  Maeht  —  Barmherzigkeit  —  Gnade. 

>  Der  Sohn,  der  Heilige  Geist. 

s  Der  Herr,  Heiland,  Ueil. 

*  Notker  and  Otfried  use  *^  hengan  und  galgen."  —  Aoferstehmg,  Bodolf 
Raomer,  b.  iii. 


362  LATIN  CHRISHANITY.  BookXTT 

soul,  sin,  holiness,  faith,  prayer,  repentance,  penance, 
confession,  convei*sion,  heaven  and  hell.  Doomsday, 
even  Baptism  and  the  Lord's  Supper,"  were  new  and 
peculiar.^  The  Book  ;  ^  the  Seer  not  the  Prophet ;  • 
above  all,  the  great  Festivals  of  Christmas  and  Easter,^ 
were  original,  witliout  relation  in  sound  or  in  letters 
to  the  Latin.  Of  the  terms  which  discriminated  the 
Christian  from  the  Unbeliever  one  was  different ;  the 
Christian,  of  course,  was  of  all  languages,  the  Gren- 
tile  or  the  Pagan  became  a  "  heathen."  So  too  "  the 
world "  took  another  name*  To  the  German,  in- 
structed through  these  religious  words,  the  analogous 
vocabulary  of  the  Latin  service  was  utterly  dead  and 
without  meaning  ;  the  Latin  Gospel  was  a  sealed  book, 
the  Latin  service  a  succession  of  unintelligible  sounds. 
The  offices  and  titles  of  the  Clergy  alone,  at  least  of 
the  Bishop  and  the  Deacon,  as  well  as  the  Monk,  the 
Abbot,  the  Prior,  the  Cloister,  were  transferred  and 
received  as  honored  strangers  in  the  land,  in  which  the 
office  was  as  new  as  the  name.^  ^^  The  Martyr  "  was 
unknown  but  to  Christianity,  therefore  the  name  lived. 


1  Seele,  Siinde,  Schuld,  Heiligkeit,  GUube,  Gebete,  Beue,  Basse,  Beichte, 
Bekehrung,  Himmelf  HollCf  Taufe,  Heiliges  Abendroahl. 

>  Kodolf  Raumer,  b.  iii. 

*  Ulphilas  used  the  word  praufetas.  See  Zahn^s  glossary  to  bis  edition 
of  Ulphilas,  p.  70.    The  German  word  is  Seher,  or  Wahrsager. 

4  Weihnacht.  Ostara  (in  Anglo-Saxon,  Easter)  paraft  avoir  d^sign^ 
dans  des  temps  plus  anclens  une  D^esse  Germaniqne  dont  la  ftlte  se  c^l^- 
brait  vers  la  meme  ^poque  que  notre  Fdte  de  P&ques,  et  qui  avait  donnd 
son  nom  au  mois  d*Avril. —  Grimm,  Mythologie,  p.  267,  8vo.,  2e  edit.,  Arc 
&C.  M.  Regnier  might  have  added  to  his  authorities  that  of  Bede,  who  In 
his  de  Comp.  Temporum  gives  tliis  derivation  ....  Pfingsten  is  Pen- 
tecost. 

s  Pfaffe,  the  more  common  word  for  Clericns,  is  from  Papa.  —  Banmer, 
p.  295.  It  is  curious  that  in  the  oldest  tnuuUtors  the  High  Priests,  Annas 
and  Caiaphas,  are  Bishops.  —  n>id.  297. 


Chap.  Vn.  THE  ANGLO-SAXONS.  868 

"  The  Church  "  the  Teuton  derived,  perhaps  through 
the  Gothic  of  Ulphilas,  from  the  Greek  ;  ^  but  besides 
this  single  word  there  is  no  sign  of  Greek  more  than 
of  Latin  in  the  general  Teutonic  Christian  language.* 
The  Bible  of  U]philas  was  that  of  an  ancient  race, 
which  passed  away  with  that  race ;  it  does  not  appear 
to  have*  been  known  to  the  Germans  east  of  the  Rhine, 
or  to  the  great  body  of  the  Teutons,  who  were  con- 
verted to  Christianity  some  centuries  later,  from  the 
seventh  to  the  eleventh.  The  Germans  who  crossed 
the  Rhine  or  the  Alps  came  within  the  magic  circle  of 
the  Latin ;  they  submitted  to  a  Latin  Priesthood ;  they 
yielded  up  their  primitive  Teuton,  content  with  for- 
cing many  of  their  own  words,  which  were  of  absolute 
necessity,  perhaps  some  of  their  inflections,  into  the 
language  which  they  ungraciously  adopted.  The  de- 
scendants of  the  Ostrogoths,  the  Visigoths,  the  Bur- 
gundians,  the  Lombards,  by  degrees  spoke  languages 
of  which  the  Latin  was  the  groundwork  ;  they  became 
in  every  sense  Latin  Christians. 

Our  Anglo-Saxon  ancestors  were  the  first  Teutonic 
race  which  remained  Teuton.  It  is  a  curious  ^  j^ 
problem  how  the  Roman  Missionaries  from  ^•*°"* 
the  South,  and  the  Celtic  Missionaries  from  the  North, 
wrought  the  conversion  of  Anglo-Saxondom.^  Proba- 
bly the  early  conversions  in  most  parts  of  the  island 
were  hardly  more  than  ceremonial ;  the  substitution  of 
one  rite  for  another;  the  deposing  one  God  and  ac- 
cepting another,  of  which  they  knew  not  much  more 

1  WalafVid  Strabo  gives   this  derivation  from  the  Greek  through   the 
Gothic    The  word  is,  I  believe,  not  found  in  the  extant  part  of  Ulphilas. 
*  Even  the  word  "  Catholic  **  is  superseded  by  **  Allgemeine.'* 
s  Angufltine  addressed  Ethelbert  through  an  interpreter.   The  Queen  and 
her  retinue  were  French,  and  used  to  intercourse  with  a  Latin  priesthood. 


864  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

than  the  name ;  and  the  subjection  to  one  Priesthood, 
who  seemed  to  have  more  powerful  influence  in  heaven, 
instead  of  another  who  had  ceased  to  command  success 
in  war,  or  other  blessings  which  they  expected  at  his 
hands.  This  appears  fi*om  the  ease  and  carelessness 
with  which  the  religion  was  for  some  period  accepted 
and  thrown  off  again.  As  in  the  island,  or  Jn  each 
separate  kingdom,  the  Christian. or  the  Heathen  King, 
the  Christian  or  the  Heathen  party  was  the  stronger, 
so  Christianity  rose  and  fell.  It  was  not  till  the  rise 
of  a  Priesthood  of  Anglo-Saxon  birth  under  Wilfrid, 
or  during  his  time,  that  England  received  true  Chris- 
tian instruction ;  it  was  not  till  it  had,  if  not  an  Anglo- 
Saxon  ritual,  Anglo-Saxon  hymns,  legends,  poetry, 
sermons,  that  it  can  be  properly  called  Christian  ;  and 
all  those  in  their  religious  vocabulary  are  Teutonic,  not 
Latin.  It  was  in  truth  notorious  that,  even  among 
the  Priesthood,  Latin  had  nearly  died  out,  at  least  if 
not  the  traditional  skill  of  repeating  its  words,  the 
knowledge  of  its  meaning. 

Our  Anglo-Saxon  Fathers  were  the  first  successfiil 
missionaries  in  Trans-Rhenane  Germany.  The  Celt 
Columban  and  St.  Gall  were  hermits  and  coenobites, 
not  missionaries ;  and  with  their  Celtic  may  have  com- 
municated, if  they  encountered  them,  with  the  aborigi- 
nal Gauls,  but  they  must  chiefly  have  made  their  way 
through  Latin.  They  settled  within  the  pale  of  Ro- 
man Gaul,  buil^  their  monasteries  on  the  sites  of  old 
Roman  cities ;  their  proselytes  (for  they  made  monks 
at  least,  if  not  numerous  converts  to  the  faith)  were 
Gallo-Romans.^     But  no  doubt  the  Anglo-Saxon  of 

I  Columban  has  left  a  few  lines  of  Latin  poetiy.    While  his  Celticifln 
appean  from  hit  obstinate  adherence  to  the  ancient  British  usage  about 


Chaf.  Vn.  CONVERSION  OF  GEBMANT.  865 

Winfnd  (Boniface)  and  his  brother  apostles  of  Ger- 
many was  the  means  of  intercourse ;  the  kindred  lan- 
guage enabled  them  to  communicate  freely  and  success- 
folly  with  the  un-Romanized  races :  Teutons  were  the 
apostles  of  Teutons.  It  was  through  the  persuasive  ac- 
cents of  a  tongue,  in  its  sounds  as  in  its  words  closely 
resembling  their  own^  not  in  the  commanding  tones  of 
foreign  Latin,  that  the  religion  found  its  way  to  their 
hearts  and  minds.  Charlemagne's  conversions  in  the 
farther  north  were  at  first  through  an  instrument  in 
barbarous  ages  universally  understood,  the  sword. 
Charlemagne  was  a  Teuton  warring  on  Teutons:  he 
would  need  no  interpreter  for  the  brief  message  of  his 
evangelic  creed  to  the  Saxons  — "  Baptism  or  death." 
Their  conversion  was  but  the  sign  of  submission,  shaken 
off  constantly  during  the  long  wars,  and  renewed  on 
every  successful  inroad  of  the  conqueror.  But  no 
doubt  in  the  bishoprics  and  the  monasteries,  the  relig- 
ious colonies  with  which  Charlemagne  really  achieved 
the  Christianization  of  a  large  part  of  Germany,  though 
the  services  might  be  in  Latin,  the  schools  might  in- 
struct in  Latin,  and  the  cloister  language  be  Latin, 
German  youths  educated  as  Clergy  or  as  Monks  could 
not  forget  or  entirely  abandon   their  mother-tongue.^ 

EasteTf  it  18  Btrsnge  that  he  nhoald  be  mixed  up  with  the  controversy  about 
the  "three  Chapters.'*  M.  Ampere  has  pointed  out  the  singular  contrast 
between  the  adulation  of  Columban's  letter  to  Pope  Boniface  on  this  sub- 
ject, "  pulcherrimo  omnium  totius  Europe  ecclesiarum  capiti  .  .  .  Papse 
pr«dict0f  pnecelso,  pnesenti  (prtestanti?)  pastomm  pastori  .  .  .  hnmillimuB 
celsistimo,  agrestis  urbano,'*  and  the  bold  and  definite  language  of  the  let- 
ter itself:  " Jamdiu  enim  potestas  apnd  vos  erit,  quamdiu  recta  ratio  per- 
manserit.  Dolere  se  de  infkmi&  qu»  cathedme  S.  Petri  innritur."  —  Annal. 
Benedict,  i.  274.  Compare  Ampere,  Hist  Lit.  de  la  France^  iii.  p.  9.  The 
Celt  is  a  Latin  in  language  rather  than  in  thought. 

1  Dem  Kloster  S.  Gallen  wird  im  lOten  Jahrhundert  nachgeriihmti  dass 
anr  die  kleinsten  Knaben  seiner  Schnle  sieh  der  deutschen  Sprache  be- 


366  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV 

Latin  .and  German  became  insensibly  mingled,  and  in- 
terpenetrated each  other.  As  to  the  general  language 
of  the  country,  there  was  an  absolute  necessity  that 
the  strangers  should  yield  to  the  dominant  Tentonism, 
rather  than,  like  Rome  of  old  in  her  conquered  prov- 
inces, impose  their  language  on  the  subject  people. 
The  Empire  of  Charlemagne  till  his  death  maintained 
its  unity.  The  great  division  began  to  prevail  during 
the  reign  of  Louis  the  Pious,  between  the  German  and 
the  Frank  portions  of  the  Empire.  By  that  time  the 
Franks  (though  German  was  still  spoken  in  the  north- 
east, between  the  Rhine  and  the  Meuse)  had  become 
blended  and  assimilated  with  those  who  at  least  had  be- 
gun to  speak  the  Langue  d*Oil  and  the  Langue  d'Oc.^ 
But  before  the  oath  at  Strasburg  had  as  it  were  pro- 
nounced the  divorce  between  the  two  realms,  Teutonic 
preachers  had  addressed  German  homilies  to  the  peo- 
ple, parts  of  the  Scripture  had  found  their  way  into 
Germany,  German  vernacular  poets  had  begun  to  fr- 
miliarize  the  Gospel  history  to  the  German  ear,  the 
Monks  aspired  to  be  vernacular  poets.^  As  in  Anglo- 
Saxon  England,  so  in  the  dominions  of  Louis  the  Pious, 

dienten ;  alle  ubrigen  aber  mussten  ihre  ConveTsation  LateiniMh  ftihren.  In 
den  meisten  Fallen  aber  lief  natilrlich  der  Gebraiich  der  deutschen  Hatter' 
sprache  neben  dem  der  Lateinischen  her.  Daher  ent«tand  jene  Hischang 
Lateinischer  mit  deutschen  Worten,  die  wir  in  so  vielen  GIoesenhandKhrifteD 
der  Althochdeutschen  Zeit  finden.  Man  erklarte  bei  der  Auslegung  Li- 
teinischer  Texte  die  schwierigeren  Wurter  entweder  durch  gelaufigere  Li- 
teinische  oder  auch  durch  entsprechende  Deutsche.  Dadurch  mui>9te  eine 
fortdauemde  Wechselwirkung  zwischen  dem  Lateinischen  und  Deatwrhoi 
in  den  KUistem  entstehen.  —  Raumer,  p.  SOI.  Otfried,  the  German  saaed 
poet,  owed  his  education  to  the  scholar  and  theologian,  H.  KhabannsMaums. 

}  See  above,  from  the  canons  of  the  Councils  of  Tours,  Rlieims,  and 
Mentz. 

3  See  on  the  Vienna  fVagments  of  the  old  Grerman  translation  of  St  Mat- 
thew, and  the  version  of  the  Go<tpel  Harmony  of  Ammianna,  Notker'i 
Psahns,  the  Lord's  Prayer,  and  Creed.  —  Baumer,  pp.  36  ei  $eq. 


Chap.YIL  conversion  OF  GEBKANT.  807 

and  of  Lothaire,  the  Heliand,  and  the  Harmony  of  the 
Grospels  by  Otfried,  had  opened  the  Bible,  at  least  the 
New  Testament,  to  the  popular  ear.  The  Heliand  was 
written  in  the  dialect  of  Lower  Saxony.  Otfried,  a 
Monk  of  Weissenberg  in  Alsace,  wrote  in  High  Ger- 
man. The  Heliand  is  alliterative  verse,  Otfried  in 
rhyme.  Otfried  wrote  his  holy  poem  to  wean  the 
minds  of  men  from  their  worldly  songs ;  the  history 
of  the  Redeemer  was  to  supplant  the  songs  of  the  old 
German  heroes.  How  far  Otfried  succeeded  in  his 
pious  design  is  not  known,  but  even  in  the  ninth  cen- 
tury other  Christian  poetry,  a  poem  on  St.  Peter,  a 
legend  of  St.  Grail,  a  poem  on  the  miracles  of  the 
Holy  Land)  introduced  Christian  thoughts  and  Chris- 
tian imagery  into  the  hearts  of  the  people.^ 

Thus  Christianity  began  to  speak  to  mankind  in 
Greek  ;  it  had  spoken  for  centuries  in  the  commanding 
Latin  ;  henceforth  it  was  to  address  a  large  part  of  the 
world  in  Teutonic.     France  and  Spain  were  Roman- 

1  On  the  Heliand  and  on  OtfHed  see  the  powerful  criticism  of  Gervinus, 
Geschichte  der  Poetischen  National  Literatur  der  Deutschen,  i.  p.  84,  tt  teq. 
Neither  are  translators ;  they  are  rather  paraphra^ts  of  the  Gospel.  The 
Saxon  has  more  of  the  popular  poet,  Otfried  more  of  the  religious  teacher; 
in  Otfried  the  poet  appears,  in  the  Saxon  he  is  lost  in  his  poetry.  Where 
the  Saxon  leaves  the  text  of  the  Gospel,  it  is  in  places  where  the  popular 
poetry  offers  him  matter  and  expression  for  epic  amplification  or  adorn- 
ment, as  in  the  Murder  of  the  Innocents ;  and  where  in  the  description  of 
the  Last  Judgment  he  reminds  us  of  the  Scandinavian  imagery  of  the  de- 
struction of  the  world :  in  this  not  altogether  unlike  the  fragment  of  the 
Muspeli  edited  by  Schmeller.  Instead  of  this,  OtfHed  cites  passages  of  the 
Prophets  Joel  and  Zepbaniah.  On  the  whole,  the  Saxon  has  an  epic,  Otr 
fried  a  lyric  and  didactic  character.  Gervinus  thinks  but  meanly  of  OtfHed 
as  a  poet  The  whole  passage  is  striking  and  instructive.  The  Heliand 
has  been  edited  by  Schmeller;  and  OtfHed  best  b}'  Graff,  Konigsberg, 
1831.  Compare  Lachman*s  article  in  firsch  und  Gruber*s  Encyclopftdie. 
The  Poem  on  St.  Gall  exists  only  in  a  fragment  of  a  Latin  translation  in 
Pertz,  ii.  p.  38.  The  first  is  in  Hoffman,  Geschichte  des  Deut«ichen  Kirch- 
enliedes;  the  last  in  Yit.  Altman.  in  Pez.  Script.  Rer.  Austriac.  i.  p.  117. 


368  LATIN  GHBISTIANnT.  Book  XIV. 

ized  as  well  as  Christianized.  Germany  was  Chris- 
tianized, but  never  Romanized.  England,  Germanized 
by  the  Anglo-Saxon  conquest,  was  partially  Romanized 
again  by  the  Normans,  who,  in  their  province  of 
France,  had  entirely  yieldcid  to  the  Gallo-Roman  ele- 
ment. Westward  of  the  Rhine  and  south  of  the  Dan- 
ube, the  German  conquerors  were  but  a  few,  an  armed 
aristocracy ;  in  Germany  they  were  the  mass  of  the 
people.  However,  therefore,  Roman  religion,  to  a  cer- 
tain extent  Roman  law,  ruled  eastward  of  the  Rhine, 
each  was  a  domiciled  stranger.  The  Teuton  in  char- 
acter, in  habits,  in  language,  remained  a  Teuton.  As 
their  tribes  of  old  united  for  conquest;  the  conquest 
achieved,  severed  again  to  erect  independent  kingdoms ; 
as  the  Roman  Empire  in  Germany  was  at  last  but  a 
half-naturalized  fiction,  controlled,  limited,  fettered  by 
the  independent  Kings,  Princes,  and  Prelates :  so,  as 
our  History  has  shown,  there  was  a  constant  struggle 
in  the  Grerman  Churchman  between  the  Churchman 
and  the  Teuton  —  a  gravitating  tendency  towards  Ro- 
man unity  in  the  Churchman,  a  repulsion  towards 
independence  in  the  Teuton.  But  for  the  Imperial 
claims  on  Italy  and  on  Rome,  which  came  in  aid  of 
the  ecclesiastical  centralization  under  the  Papacy,  Tea- 
tonism  might  perhaps  have  much  earlier  burst  free 
from  the  Latin  unity. 

The  Norman  conquest  brought  England  back  into 
the  Roman  pale ;  it  warred  as  sternly  against  the  in- 
dependence of  the  Anglo-Saxon  Bishop  as  against  that 
of  the  Anglo-Saxon  thane ;  it  introduced  the  Latin 
religious  phraseology.  Hence  in  England  we  in  many 
cases  retain  and  use  almost  indiflPerently  both  the  Latin 
and  the  Teutonic  terms ;  in  some  instances  only  we  in- 


Chap.  YII.  THE  NOBMANS.  869 

flexibly  adhere  to  our  vemacolar  religious  language, 
and  show  a  loyal  predilection  for  the  Saxon  tongue. 
^*  God  "  and  '^  the  Lord ''  retain  their  uninvaded  maj- 
esty. **  The  Son  '^  admits  no  rival,  but  we  admit  the 
Holy  Spirit  as  well  as  the  Holy  Ghost^  but  the  Holy 
Ghost  ^^  sanctifies."  The  attributes  of  God,  except  his 
Almightiness  and  his  wisdom,  ai*e  more  often  used  in 
theological  discussion  than  in  popular  speech.  There- 
fore his  "  omnipresence,"  his  "  omniscience "  (he  is 
also  "  all-knowing  "),  his  "  ubiquity,"  his  "  infinity," 
his  ^^  incomprehensibility,"  are  Latin.  In  the  titles  of 
Christ,  "  the  Saviour,"  the  "  Redeemer,"  the  "  Inters 
cessor,"  except  in  the  *^  Atonement,"  instead  of  the 
*^  Propitiation  or  Reconciliation,"  Latin  has  obtained 
the  mastery.  "  Sin  "  is  Saxon  ;  "  righteousness  "  a 
kind  of  common  property ;  "  mercy  and  love  "  may 
contend  for  preeminence ;  "  goodness  "  is  genuine  Ger- 
man ;  ^^  &ith  and  charity  "  are  Latin ;  ^^  love,"  German. 
We  await  "  Doomsday,  or  the  Day  of  Judgment ;  " 
but  *•  Heaven  and  Hell "  are  pure  Teutonisms.^  "  Bap- 
tism "  is  Latinized  Greek.  The  "  Lord's  Supper  "  con- 
tests with  the  "  Eucharist ; "  the  "  Holy  Communion  " 
mingles  the  two.  "Easter"  is  our  Paschal  Feast. 
We  speak  of  Gentiles  and  Pagans,  as  well  as  "  Hea- 
thens." Our  inherited  Greek,  "  Church,"  retains  its 
place ;  as  does  "  priest,"  firom  the  Greek  presbyter.  In 
common  with  all  Teutons,  our  ecclesiastical  titles,  with 
this  exception,  are  borrowed. 

During  this  period  of  suspended  Teutonic  life  in 
England,  Germany  had  not  yet  receded  into  her  rigid 
Teutonism.     The  Crusades  united  Christendom,  Latin 

1  The  German  Heiden  is  clearly  analogoiu  in  its  meaning  to  Pagan ;  the 
word  is  not  the  Greek  Ethnic 

TOL.  Tin.  M 


870  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Boo»  XIV. 

and  German,  in  unresisting  and  spontaneous  confedei^ 
acj.  The  Franks,  as  has  been  seen,  were  in  the  van  ; 
Germany  followed  sluggishly,  reluctantly,  at  intervals^ 
made  at  least  two  great  paroxysmal  efforts  under  the 
Emperors,  who  themselves  headed  the  armaments,  but 
then  collapsed  into  something  bordering  on  apathy. 
From  that  time  only  single  Princes  and  Prelates  girt 
themselves  with  the  Cross.  The  long  feud,  the  open 
war  of  the  Emperors  and  the  Popes,  was  no  strife  be- 
tween the  races ;  the  Emperor  warred  not  for  German 
interests,  but  for  his  own  ;  it  was  as  King  of  the  Ro- 
mans, with  undefined  rights  over  the  Liombard  and 
Tuscan  cities,  later  as  King  of  Naples  as  well  as  Em- 
peror of  Germany,  that  he  maintained  the  internecine 
strife.  If  Frederick  II.  had  been  a  German,  not  a 
Sicilian ;  if  his  capital  had  been  Cologne  or  Mentz  or 
Augsburg,  not  Palermo  or  Naples ;  if  his  courtly  lan- 
guage, the  language  of  his  statesmen  and  poets,  had 
been  a  noble  Grerman,  rising  above  the  clashing  and 
confused  dialects  of  High  and  Low,  Franconian,  Swib- 
bian,  Bavarian  ;  if  he  had  possessed  the  power  and  the 
will  to  legislate  for  Germany  as  he  legislated  for  Apu- 
lia, different  might  have  been  the  issue  of  the  conflict. 

Throughout  all  this  period,  the  true  mediaeval  period, 
Germany  was  as  mediaeval  ad  the  rest  <^  Christendom. 
Her  poets  were  as  fertile  in  chivalrous  romances ; 
whether  translated  or  founded  on  those  of  the  Troo-' 
vdres,  there  is  not  a  poem  on  any  of  the  great  cycles, 
the  classical  or  that  from  ancient  history,  those  of 
Charlemagne  or  of  Arthur,  not  a  tale  of  adventum, 
which  has  not  its  antitype  in  German  verse,  in  one  or 
other  of  the  predominant  dialects.  The  legends  of  the 
Saints  of  all  classes  and  countries  (the  romances  of 


CflAP.  TU.  THE  A^GLOHSAXON.  871 

religious  adventure)  are  drawn  out  with  the  same  in- 
exhaustible fecundity,  to  the  same  interminable  length.^ 
The  somewhat  later  Minnesingers  echo  the  amatory 
songs  of  the  Troubadours ;  and  everywhere,  as  in 
France  and  England,  the  vernacular  first  mingles  in 
grotesque  incongruity  with  the  Latin  Mystery ;  scenes 
of  less  dignity,  sometimes  broadly  comic  in  the  vul- 
gar tongue,  are  interpolated  into  the  more  solemn  and 
stately  Latin  spectacle. 

When  the  Norman  dynasty,  and  with  the  Noiman 
dynasty  the  dominance  of  the  Norman  language  came 
to  an  end,  nearly  at  the  same  period  the  English  con- 
stitution and  the  English  language  began  to  develop 
themselves  in  their  mingled  character,  but  with  Teu- 
tonism  resuming  its  superiority.  As  in  the  constitution 
the  Anglo-Saxon  common  law,  so  in  the  structure  and 
Vocabulary  of  the  language  the  Anglo-Saxon  was  the 
broad  groundwork.  Poetry  rose  with  the  language; 
and  it  is  singular  to  observe  that  the  earliest  English 
poems  of  original  force  and  fancy  (we  had  before  only 
the  dry  dull  histories  of  Wace,  and  Robert  of  Glouces- 
ter, Norman  rather  than  English  ^),  the  Vision  and  the 
Creed  of  Piers  Ploughman,  while  they  borrow  their 
allegorical  images  from  the  school  of  the  Romance  of 
the  Rose,  adopt  the  alliterative  verse  of  the  old  Anglo- 
-Saxon.    The  Romance  of  the  Rose  by  its  extraordi- 

^  Many  of  these  poems,  sacred  and  profane,  of  enormous  length,  Titurel, 
the  Kaiser  Chronik,  Eutnin,  as  well  as  the  great  "  Passional "  and  the 
"  Harienleben,*'  are  in  course  of  publication  at  Quedlinburg,  in  the  Biblio- 
tfaek  derDeutschen  National  Literatur. 

^  The  Ormulum,  excellently  edited  by  Dr.  Meadows  White,  Oxford, 
1852,  is  a  paraphrase  of  the  Gospels  (it  is  curious  to  compare  it  with  the 
older  Teutonic  Heliand  and  OtfKed)  in  Terse  and  language,  of  a  kind  of 
tnnMtion  period,  by  some  called  semi-Saxon.  See  on  the  Ormulum,  In- 
Ezoduction  to  Bosworth's  Anglo-Saxon  Dictionaiy. 


872  LATIN   CHBISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

nary  popularity  had  introduced  the  Impersonated  Vir- 
tues and  Vices,  which  had  almost  driven  out  the  knights 
and  the  saints  of  the  Romance  and  the  Legend ;  in- 
stead of  the  wild  tale  of  chivalrous  adventure,  or  the 
holy  martyrdom,  poetry  became  a  long  and  weary  alle- 
gory :  even  the  Mystery  before  long  gave  place  to  the 
Morality.  In  some  degree  this  may  have  been  the 
Morals  of  Christianity  reasserting  coequal  dignity  and 
importance  against  ritual  observances  and  blind  sacer* 
dotal  authority:  it  is  constantly  rebuking  with  grave 
solemnity,  or  keen  satire,  the  vices  of  the  Clergy,  the 
Monks,  and  the  Friars. 

Before  Chaucer,  even  before  Wycliffe,  appeared  with 
his  rude  satire,  his  uncouth  alliterative  verse,  his  home- 
ly sense,  and  independence  of  thought,  the  author  of 
Piers  Ploughman's  Vision.^  This  extraordinary  man- 
ifestation of  the  religion,  of  the  language,  of  the  social 
and  political  notions,  of  the  English  character,  of  the 
condition,  of  the  passions  and  feelings  of  rural  and 
provincial  England,  commences,  and  with  Chancer  and 
WycliflFe  completes  the  revelation  of  this  transition  pe- 
riod, the  reign  of  Edward  III.  Throughout  its  institu- 
tions, language,  religious  sentiment,  Teutonism  is  now 
holding  its  first  initiatory  struggle  with  Latin  Chris- 
tianity. In  Chaucer  is  heard  a  voice  from  the  court, 
from  the  castle,  from  the  city,  from  universal  England. 
All  orders  of  society  live  in  his  verse,  with  the  truth 
and  originality  of  individual  being,  yet  each  a  type  of 
every  rank,  class,  every  religious  and  social  condition 
and  pursuit.     And  there  can  be  no  doubt  that  his  is  a 

1  The  Vision  bean  its  date  about  1365.  Chaacer^s  great  woik  u  about 
twenty  yean  later.  Wycliffe  was  hardly  known,  bat  by  his  tract  on  tlM 
Last  Days,  before  1870.  Whitaker,  p.  xxxvi.  and  last  note  to  Introdoctioii. 
Also  Wrights  Preface. 


Chap.  Vn.  PEERS  PLOUGHMAN.  878 

voice  of  freedom,  of  more  or  less  covert  hostility  to  the 
hierarchical  system,  though  more  playful  and  with  a 
poet's  genial  appreciation  of  all  which  was  true,  health- 
Ail,  and  beautiful  in  the  old  &ith.  In  Wycliffe  is  heard 
a  voice  from  the  University,  from  the  seat  of  theology 
and  scholastic  philosophy,  from  the  centre  and  strong- 
hold of  the  hierarchy ;  a  voice  of  revolt  and  defiance, 
taken  up  and  echoed  in  the  pulpit  throughout  the  land 
against  the  sacerdotal  domination.  In  the  Vision  of 
Piers  Ploughman  is  heard  a  voice  from  the  wild  Mal- 
vern Hills,  the  voice  it  should  seem  of  an  humble  par- 
son, or  secular  priest.  He  has  passed  some  years  in 
London,  but  his  home,  his  heart  is  among  the  poor  rural 
population  of  central  Mercian  England.  Tradition,  un- 
certain tradition,  has  assigned  a  name  to  the  Poet,  Rob- 
ert Langland,  born  at  Cleobury  Mortimer,  in  Shrop- 
shire, and  of  Oriel  College,  Oxford.  Whoever  he  was, 
he  wrote  in  his  provincial  idiom,  in  a  rhythm  perhaps 
from  the  Anglo-Saxon  times  famiUar  to  the  popular 
ear ;  if  it  strengthened  and  deepened  that  feeling,  no 
doubt  the  poem  was  the  expression  of  a  strong  and 
wide-spread  feeling.  It  is  popular  in  a  broader  and 
lower  sense  than  the  mass  of  vernacular  poetry  in  Ger- 
many and  England.  We  must  rapidly  survey  the 
religion,  the  politics,  the  poetry  of  the  Ploughman. 

The  Visionary  is  no  disciple,  no  precursor  of  Wyc- 
lifie  in  his  broader  religious  views :  the  Loller  of  Piers 
Ploughman  is  no  Lollard;  he  applies  the  name  as  a 
term  of  reproach  for  a  lazy  indolent  vagrant.^  The 
Poet  is  no  dreamy  speculative  theologian  ;  he  acqui- 
esces seemingly  with  unquestioning  faith  in  the  creed 

1  PasBus  Sextas,  p.  76  and  elsewhere,  Loller's  life  is  begging  at  buttery 
batches,  and  loitering  on  Fridays  or  Feast  Days  at  Church,  p.  76. 


874  UlTIN  CHBISTIANITT.  book  XIV. 

and  in  the  usages  of  the  Church.  He  is  not  pro&ne 
but  reverent  as  to  the  Virgin  and  the  Saints.  Pilgrim- 
ages, penances,  oblations  on  the  altar,  absolution,  he 
does  not  reject,  though  they  are  all  nought  in  compari* 
son  with  holiness  and  charity;  on  Transubstantiation 
and  the  Real  Presence  and  the  Sacraments  he  is  almost 
silent,  but  his  silence  is  that  of  submission  not  of 
doubt.^  It  is  in  his  intense  absorbing  moral  feeling 
that  he  is  beyond  his  age :  with  him  outward  observ- 
ances are  but  hollow  shows,  mockeries,  hypocrisies  with- 
out the  inward  power  of  religion.  It  is  not  so  mach 
in  his  keen  cutting  satire  on  all  matters  of  the  Church 
as  his  solemn  installation  of  Reason  and  Conscience  as 
the  guides  of  the  self-directed  soul,  that  he  is  breaking 
the  yoke  of  sacerdotal  domination  :  in  his  constant  ap- 
peal to  the  plainest,  simplest  Scriptural  truths,  as  in 
themselves  the  whole  of  religion,  he  is  a  stem  reformer. 
The  sad  serious  Satirist,  in  his  contemplation  of  the 
world  around  him,  the  wealth  of  the  world  and  the 
woe,^  sees  no  hope,  no  consolation  but  in  a  new  order 
of  things,  in  which  if  the  hierarchy  shall  subsist,  it 
shall  subsist  in  a  form,  with  powers,  ih  a  spirit  totaD j 

1  There  is  a  veiy  cnriooB  pasaage  as  to  the  qaestions  even  then  ag^ 
tated:— 

**  I  hftTe  Heard  High  men, — eating  at  the  table, 
Oarp  aa  though  they  Oleika  warn, — of  Ghrlat  and  hk  mtghit 
And  laid  Fanlta  on  the  Vather  —  that  Vonned  na  aU  .  .  . 
Why  would  our  Saiionr  Snifer,  —  Sooh  a  worm  in  hk  bite 
That  bagnUad  the  wooiaa,  —  and  ttM  man  after." 

Wilght,  179. 

The  religious  poet  puts  down  these  questions  with  holy  indignation. 

I  quote  mostly  from  Dr.  Whitaker*s  edition,  sometimes  from  WrigfatTi, 
taking  the  liberty  of  modernising  only  the  spelling,  which  shows  how 
most  of  it  is  to  our  vernacular  English. 

*  "  And  BfarreUonaly  me  Met  —  aa  I  Hay  you  tell, 

AU  the  Wealth  of  the  World —and  the  Woo  both."— p.  2. 


C«1P.  Vn.  WEALTH  OF  CLERGY,  876 

opposite  to  that  which  now  rules  mankind.  The  my^* 
tenons  Piers  the  Ploughman  seems  to  designate  from 
what  quarter  that  reformer  is  to  arise.  Piers  the  Plough* 
man,  who  at  one  time  was  a  sort  of  impersonation  of  the 
Industrious  and  at  the  same  time  profoundly  religious 
man,  becomes  at  the  close  Piers  Pardon  Ploughman, 
the  great  publisher  of  the  pardon  of  mankind  through 
Christ.  In  him  is  the  teaching,  absolving  power  of 
the  Church ;  he  is  the  great  assertor  and  conservator 
of  Unity. 

With  Wycliffe,  with  the^  spiritual  Franciscans,  Lang* 
land  ascribes  all  the  evils,  social  and  religious,  of  the 
dreary  world  to  the  wealth  of  the  Clergy,  of  the 
Monks,  and  the  still  more  incongruous  wealth  of  the 
Mendicants.  With  them  he  asserts  the  right,  the  duty, 
the  obligation  of  the  temporal  Sovereign  to  despoil  the 
hierarchy  of  their  c6rrupting  and  fatal  riches.^  As  he 
has  nothing  of  the  scholastic  subtilty,  of  the  Predes^ 
tinarianism*  or  speculative  freedom  of  Wycliffe,  so  he 
has  nothing  of  the  wild  spiritualist  belief  in  the  proph- 
ecies of  ages  to  come.  With  the  Fraticelli,  to  him  the 
fatal  gift  of  Constantine  was  the  doom  of  true  religion ; 
with  them  he  almost  adores  poverty,  but  it  is  indus- 
trious down-trodden  rustic  poverty ;  not  that  of  the 
impostor  beggar,^  common  in  his  days,  and  denounced 

1 "  For  If  PoiMoloii  be  Potoon  —and  imPerftot  these  make 
The  Heads  of  Holy  Ohnrch, 

It  were  Ohaiity  to  disCharKe  them  (br  Holy  Church  sake, 
And  Puge  them  of  the  old  Poiaoii.*'  —  p.  386. 

See  the  whole  passage. 

3  See  Passos  iv.  where  Waster  refuses  to  Work,  and  Piers  sommons  Want 
to  seize  him  by  the  paunch,  and  wring  him  well.  The  whole  contrast  of 
the  industrions  and  idle  poor  is  remarkable.  Also  the  Impostors  and  Jolly 
Beggars,  as  of  oar  own  days,  and  the  favorable  view  of*'  God's  Minstrels/* 
—  Whitaker,  p.  154.    This  passage  was  not  in  Mr.  Wright's  copy. 


876  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIT. 

as  sternly  as  by  the  political  economy  of  oar  own,  stiD 
less  of  the  religious  mendicant.  Both  these  are  fierce- 
ly excluded  fi:x)m  his  all-embracing  charity.^ 

Langland  is  Antipapal,  yet  he  can  admire  an  ideal 
Pope,  a  general  pacificator,  reconciling  the  Sovereigns 
of  the  world  to  universal  amity.'  It  is  the  actual 
Pope,  the  Pope  of  Avignon  or  of  Rome,  levying  the 
wealth  of  the  world  to  slay  mankind,  who  is  the  object 
of  his  bitter  invective.*  The  Cardinals  he  denounces 
with  the  same  indignant  scorn ;  but  chiefly  the  Cardi- 
nal Legate,  whom  he  has  seen  in  England  riding  in  his 
pride  and  pomp,  with  lewdness,  rapacity,  merciless  ex- 
tortion, insolence  in  his  train.^  Above  all,  his  hati^  (it 
might  seem  that  on  this  all  honest  English  indignation 
was  agreed)  is  against  the  Mendicant  orders.  Of  the 
older  monks  there  is  almost  total  silence.  For  St.  Ben^ 
diet,  for  St.  Dominic,  for  St.  Francis  he  has  the  pitH 
foundest  reverence.^  But  it  is  against  their  degenerate 
sons  that  he  arrays  his  allegorical  Host ;  the  Friars  fiir- 

1  Pass.  vi.  p.  76. 

I "  Sithen  Pnyed  to  the  Pope, — hmTe  Pity  of  Holy  Ohvrah, 
And  DO  Oraoe  to  Orant  —  tiU  Good  lore  ware, 
Among  all  Kind  of  Kings — orer  Christian  people, 
Comnuuid  all  Conftason  that  any  King  shrive 
Bqjoin  him  Peace  for  his  Penance — and  Perpetaal  forgiveness." — p.  K. 

*  Simony  mnd  Civil  go  to  Rome  to  pnt  themselyes  under  the  Pope's  pfo- 
tectioD.  —  P.  iii.  p.  86. 

"  And  Ood  amend  the  Pope  —  that  Pilleth  Holy  Ohareh, 
And  Claimeth  hy  force  to  be  King  —  to  be  Keeper  over  Chrlstelldoa^ 
And  Connteth  not  how  Christian  Men  be  Killed  and  robbed, 
And  Findeth  Folk  to  Fight,  —  and  Christian  blood  to  apUI.** 

Do  Best,  p.  1,  p. 

Compare  p.  S97. 

*  *'  The  Oonntry  is  the  Cuneder,  —  that  Cardinala  Come  in. 
And  where  they  Lie  and  Linger,  —  Lechery  there  relgneth." 

Wright,  p.  420. 
A  Pass.  ▼.  p.  70. 


Chap.  VH.  LANGLAND  ANTIPAPAL.  877 

nish  every  impersonated  vice,  are  foes  to  every  virtue ; 
his  bitterest  satire,  his  keenest  irony  (and  these  weapons 
he  wields  with  wonderfiil  poetic  force)  are  against  their 
dissoluteness,  their  idleness,  their  pride,  their  rapacity, 
their  arts,  their  lies,  their  hypocrisy,  their  intrusion 
into  the  functions  of  the  Clergy,  their  delicate  attire, 
their  dainty  feasts,  their  magnificent  buildings,^  even 
their  proud  learning;  above  all  their  hardness,  their 
pitilessness  to  the  poor,  their  utter  want  of  charity, 
which  with  Langland  is  the  virtue  of  virtues. 

Against  the  Clergy  he  is  hardly  less  severe;*  he 
sternly  condemns  their  dastardly  desertion  of  their 
flocks,  when  during  the  great  plague  they  crowded  to 
London  to  live  an  idle  life :  that  idle  life  he  describes 
with  singular  spirit  and  zest.  Yet  he  seems  to  recog- 
nize  the  Priesthood  as  of  Divine  institution.  Against 
Ihe  whole  host  of  officials,  pardoners,  summoners.  Arch- 
deacons, and  their  functionaries  ;  against  lawyers,  civil 
as  well  as  ecclesiastical,  he  is  everywhere  fiercely  and 
contemptuously  criminatory. 

His  political  views  are  remarkable.^    He  has  a  notion 

I  He  scoffii  at  those  who  wish  their  names  to  appear  in  the  rich  p^in*^ 
windows  of  the  Franciscan  dwrches.  The  Friar  absolves  Mede  (Bribeiy) — 

"  And  sithen  he  seyde, 
We  hftTe  a  window  in  werkynge. 
Wof  dest  thon  glase  that  gablfe. 
And  grave  there  thy  name, 
Nigger  should  thy  sonl  be  ■ 
Heayen  to  have."  —  Wright,  p.  46. 

There  is  a  fhll  account  in  ^*  the  Creed"  of  a  spacious  and  splendid  domini- 
can  Convent,  very  curious.  "  The  Creed  '*  is  of  a  later  date,  bj  another 
author,  an  avowed  Lollard. 

*  He  declares  that  the  Clergy  shall  fall  as  the  Templars  had  fiiUen.  —  Do 
Bet,  i.  p.  297.    Bat  eompare  Wright,  i.  p.  238. 

*  There  is  a  strange  cross  of  aristocratical  feeling  in  Langland's  levelling 
actions.  That  slaves  and  bastards  should  be  advanced  to  be  clergymen  is  a 


878  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIY. 

of  a  king  mling  in  the  affections  of  the  people,  with 
Reason  for  his  chancellor,  Conscience  for  his  justiciary. 
On  such  a  King  the  commonalty  would  cheerfolly  and 
amply  bestow  sufficient  revenue  for  all  the  dignity  of 
his  office,  and  the  exigencies  of  the  state,  even  for  his 
conquests.  No  doubt  that  Conunonalty  would  first 
have  absorbed  the  wealth  of  the  hierarchy.^  He  is 
not  absolutely  superior  to  that  hatred  of  the  French, 
nor  even  to  the  ambition  for  the  conquest  of  France 
engendered  by  Edward's  wars  and  by  his  victories. 
And  yet  his  shrewd  common-sense  cannot  but  see  the 
injustice  and  cruelty  of  those  aggressive  and  sanguinary 
wars.' 

As  a  Poet  Langland  has  many  high  qualities.  He 
is  creating  his  own  language,  and  that  in  a  rude  and 
remote  province:  its  groundwork  is  Saxon-English^ 
exclusively  so  in  most  of  its  words  and  in  its  idioms* 
It  admits  occasionally  French  words,  but  they  appear 
like  strangers ;  his  Latinisms,  and  words  of  Latin  de> 

oying  grievance.  They  should  be  sons  of  finmkliiis  and  freemen,  if  not 
of  Lords: 

**  And  such  Bondamens  Bairns  ha^v  Been  made  Bidiopa, 
And  Barona  Baataxda  have  Been  Arehdeaeons, 

And  Soapen  (aoap-bollen)  and  their  Bona  for  SilTer  ham  been  Kolghta, 
And  Lorda  lona  their  labourers." 

The  Barons  mortgaged  their  estates  to  go  to  the  wars.  '  They  were  bought, 
this  is  curious,  by  traders. 

I  What  the  Ck>mmons  require  of  the  King  is  Law,  Love,  and  Truth,  and 
himself  for  their  Lord  antecedent  (p-  67): 

**  And  I  date  Lay  my  lUb  that  LoTe  ironld  Lend  that  rilTar 
To  Wage  (to  pay  the  wagea  of)  them,  and  help  Win  that  thou  Wlttest  alter, 
Moie  than  all  the  Merchants,  or  than  the  Mitred  Biahopa, 
Or  Lombards  of  Lnoca,  that  Lire  by  Lore  aa  Jews."  —  p.  74. 

*  Had  Mede  been  Seneschal  in  France,  K.  Edward  would  have  conqueied 
the  length  and  breadth  of  the  land.  —  Pass.  iv.  p.  61.  In  another  passage, 
be  had  won  France  by  gentleness.  —  Do  Wei,  p.  260. 


Chap.  VII.  ALLEGORY.  879 

acent,  might  seem  drawn  directlj  from  the  Vtilgate 
Scriptures  and  the  Church  services.  These  he  con- 
stantly cites  in  the  original  Latin.  With  his  Anglo- 
Saxon  alliteration  there  is  a  cadence  or  rhythm  in  his 
verse ;  while  Chaucer  is  writing  in  rhyme  Langland 
seems  utterly  ignorant  of  that  poetic  artifice.  The 
whole  poem  is  an  allegory,  hy  no  means  without  plan, 
but  that  plan  obscure,  broken,  and  conAised  ;  I  am  in* 
dined  to  think  wanting  its  close.  The  Allegory  is  all 
his  own.  The  universal  outburst  of  Allegory  at  this 
time  in  Paris,  in  Germany,  in  England  is  remarkable. 
Jt  had  full  vogue  in  Paris,  in  Rutebeuf,  and  in  the 
Romance  of  the  Rose,  which  Chaucer  translated  into 
English.  As  the  chivalrous  romance  and  the  fabliaux 
bad  yielded  io  the  allegorical  poem,  so  also  the  drama. 
It  might  seem,  as  we  have  said,  as  if  the  awakening 
moral  sense  of  men,  weary  of  the  saints,  and  angels, 
and  devils,  delighted  in  those  impersonations  of  the 
unchristian  vices  and  Christian  virtues.  That  which 
to  us  is  languid,  wearisome,  unreal,  seized  most  power- 
fully on  the  imagination  of  all  orders.  Nor  had  alle- 
gory fulfilled  its  office  in  the  imaginative  realm  of 
letters  till  it  had  called  forth  Spenser  and  Bunyan. 
Langland,  I  am  disposed  to  think,  approaches  much 
nearer  to  Bunyan  than  the  Romance  of  the  Rose  to 
the  Fairy  Queen.  But  Langland,  with  all  his  bold- 
ness, and  clearness,  and  originality,  had  too  much 
which  was  temporary,  much  which  could  not  but 
become  obsolete.  Bunyan's  vision  was  more  simple, 
had  more,  if  it  may  be  so  said,  of  the  moral,  or  of 
the  scheme,  of  perpetual,  universal  Christianity.  But 
Spenser  himself  has  hardly  surpassed  some  few  touches 
by   which   Langland   has   designated   his   personages; 


880  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

and  there  is  at  times  a  keen  quiet  irony  too  fine  for 
Bunyan. 

The  Poem  is  manifestly  in  two  parts:  the  poet, 
asleep  on  the  Malvern  Hills,  beholds  the  whole  world ; 
eastward  a  magnificent  tower,  the  dwelling  of  Tmth  ; 
opposite  a  deep  dale,  the  abode  of  unblessed  spirits; 
between  them  a  wide  plain,  in  which  mankind  are  fol- 
lowing all  their  avocations.  He  dwells  rapidly  on  the 
evils  and  abuses  of  all  Orders.  A  stately  lady,  in 
white  raiment  (Holy  Church)  offers  herself  as  guide 
to  the  Castle  of  Xruth,  in  which  is  seated  the  Blessed 
Trinity.  The  first  five  passages  of  the  first  part  are 
on  the  redress  of  civil  wrongs,  the  last  on  the  correo* 
tion  of  religious  abuses.  Mede  (Bribery)  with  all  her 
crew  are  on  one  side ;  Conscience,  who  refuses  to  be 
wedded  to  Mede,^  with  Reason  on  the  other.  It  closes 
with  the  King's  appointment  of  Conscience  as  his  Jus- 
ticiary, of  Reason  as  his  Chancellor.  In  the  Sixth 
Passage  the  Dreamer  awakes ;  he  encounters  Reason. 
As  Reason  with  Conscience  is  the  great  antagonist  o{ 
social  and  political  evil,  so  again,  Reason,  vested  as  a 
Pope,  with  Conscience  as  his  Cross  Bearer,  is  alone  to 


1  Conscience  objects  to  Mede  that  she  is  fklse  and  fkithless,  misleadiiig^ 
men  by  her  treasure^  leading  wives  and  widows  to  wantonness.  Fahehood 
and  she  undid  the  King's  Father  (Edward  11.),  poisoned  Popes,  impaired 
H0I7  Church;  she  is  a  strumpet  to  the  basest  Sizours  of  the  common  law, 
summoners  of  the  civil  law  prize  her  highly,  sheriffs  of  counties  would  be 
undone  without  her,  for  she  causes  men  to  forfeit  lauds  and  lives;  she 
bribes  gaolers  to  let  out  prisoners,  imprisons  true  men,  hangs  the  innocent. 
She  cares  not  for  being  excommunicated  in  the  Consistory  Court;  she  biiys 
absolution  by  a  cope  to  the  Commissary.  She  can  do  almost  as  much  work 
as  the  King's  Privy  Seal  in  120  days.  She  is  intimate  with  the  Pope,  as 
provisors  show.  She  and  Simony  seal  his  Bulls.  She  consecrates  Bishops 
without  learning.  She  presents  Rectors  to  prebends,  maintains  priests  in 
keeping  concubines  and  begetting  bastards  contrary  to  the  Canon,  &c.  &c. 
—P.  iii.  p.  46. 


Chap.vil         description  of  the  poem.  381 

subdue  religious  evil.  For  that  evil  God  is  visiting 
the  earth  with  awful  pestilences  and  storms.  To  avert 
God's  wrath  the  domestic  duties  must  be  observed  with 
fervent  affection ;  the  Pope  must  have  pity  on  the 
Church,  the  religious  Orders  keep  to  their  rule,  those 
who  go  on  pilgrimages  to  the  Saints  seek  rather  Truth. 
Truth  is  the  one  eternal  object  of  man.  After  Repent- 
ance has  brought  all  the  seven  deadly  sins  to  confes- 
sion ^  (a  strange  powerful  passage),  Hope  blows  a 
trumpet,  whose  blast  is  to  compel  mankind  to  seek 
Grace  from  Christ  to  find  out  Truth.  But  no  pilgrim 
who  has  wandered  over  the  world  can  show  the  way 
to  Truth.  Now  suddenly  arises  Piers  Ploughman ;  he 
has  long  known  Truth ;  he  has  been  her  faithful  fol- 
lower. Meekness  and  the  Ten  Commandments  are 
the  way  to,  Grace  is  the  Portress  of  the  noble  Castle 
of,  Truth.  After  some  time  Truth  reveals  herself. 
She  commands  Piers  to  stay  at  home,  to  tend  his 
plough  ;  of  the  young  peasantry  industry  in  their  call- 
ing is  their  highest  duty ;  to  the  laborious  poor  is  of- 
fered plenary  pardon,  and  to  those  who  protect  them, 
Kings  who  rule  in  righteousness,  holy  Bishops  who 
justly  maintain  Church  discipline.  Less  plenary  pardon 
is  bestowed  on  less  perfect  men,  merchants,  lawyers 
who  plead  for  hire.     What  is  this  pardon  ?  it  is  read 

1  The  oonfesBioii  of  oovetoiuness  is  admirable :  — 

"  Didst  thou  ever  make  restitution? 
Tea,  I  onee  Bobbed  some  Obapmen,  and  Rifled  their  trunks.'* 

CovetoQflness  would  go  hang  herself —  but  even  for  her  Repentance  has 
comfort:  — 

"  Have  Merey  in  thy  Mind  —  and  with  thy  Mouth  beseech  it, 
Vor  Goddee  Mercy  is  More  —  tlian  all  his  other  works, 
And  all  the  Wickedness  of  the  World  —  that  man  might  Work  or  think 
Is  no  More  to  the  Mercy  of  God  —  than  in  the  Sea  a  glede  (a  spark  of  fire).** 

Wright,  p.  M< 


882  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

by  a  Priest ;  it  contains  but  these  words :  ^^  They  that 
have  done  good  shall  go  into  life  eternal,  they  that  hare 
done  evil  into  everlasting  fire."^ 

Thus  with  Piers  Ploughman,  a  holy  Christian  life,  a 
life  of  love,  of  charity,  of  charity  especially  to  the  poor, 
is  all  in  all ;  on  the  attunment  of  that  life  dwells  the 
second  Vision,  the  latter  part  of  the  poem.  There  are 
three  personages  by  the  plain  names  of  Do  Well,  Do 
Bet  (do  better),  and  Do  Best.  The  whole  of  this 
ascent  through  the  different  degrees  of  the  Christian 
life  is  described  with  wonderfiil  felicity ;  every  power, 
attribute,  &culty  of  man,  every  virtue,  every  vice  is 
impersonated  with  the  utmost  life  and  truth.  The 
result  of  the  whole  is  that  the  essence  q{  the  Chrit- 
tian  life,  the  final  end  of  Do  Well,  is  charity.  Do  Bet 
appears  to  have  a  higher  office,  to  teach  other  men ;  and 
this  part  closes  with  a  splendid  description  of  the  R&* 
deemer's  life  and  passion,  and  that  which  displays  the 
poetic  power  of  Robert  Langland  higher  perhaps  than 
any  other  passage,  that  mysterious  part  of  the  Saviour's 
function  between  his  passion  and  resurrection  commonly 
called  the  ^*  harrowing  of  hell,'*  the  deliverance  of  tbit 
spirits  in  prison.'    In  Do  Best  Piers  Ploughman  a{K 

litis  added  — 

**  Wvt  win  men  ben  holden 
To  Parehaie  yon  Pudon  And  the  Popee  boltas, 
At  the  Dreedflil  Doom  when  the  Deed  ihaU  ariM, 
And  Come  all  belbre  GhriBt|  aeOoonts  to  yield 
How  thon  Leddeat  thy  life  here,  and  hla  Lawi  kept.    •    •   •    • 
A  Pouch  Aill  of  Pardons  tberd^  nor  PioTinelato  Lettan, 
Though  ye  be  Found  In  the  fraternity  of  all  the  Four  Ordeit, 
And  hate  InDnlgenoea  Double  fold,  If  Do  Wei  yon  hrip 
I  set  your  Patanta  and  your  Paidona  at  one  Plaa  worth.** 

Wtfght,  1.  p.  IM. 

*  It  is  odd  that  Mshamet  (Mahomet)  defends  the  realm  of  Ludftr  against 
the  Lord  with  guns  and  mangonels  —  a  whimsical  anticipation  of  Milton. 


Cha^th.  aioral  of  the  po£m.  888 

pears  as  a  kind  of  impersonation  of  the  Saviour,  or  of 
bis  faith ;  the  Holy  Ghost  descends  upon  him  in  light- 
ning ;  Gmce  arrays  him  with  wonderful  power  to 
sustain  the  war  with  coming  Antichrist;  Piety  has 
bestowed  upon  him  four  stout  oxen  (the  Evangelists) 
to  till  the  earth  ;  four  bullocks  to  harrow  the  land  (the 
four  Latin  Fathers)  >  who  harrow  into  it  the  Old  and 
New  Testaments ;  the  grain  which  Piers  sows  is  the 
cardinal  virtues.  The  poem  concludes  with  the  resur- 
rection and  war  of  Antichrist,  in  which  Piers,  if  victor, 
is  hardly  victor  — "  a  cold  and  comfortless  conclusion," 
aays  the  learned  editor.  Dr.  Whitaker.  I  am  persuaded 
that  it  is  not  the  actual  or  the  designed  conclusion. 
The  last  Passage  of  Do  Best  can  hardly  have  been 
intended  to  be  so  much  shorter  than  the  others.     The 

"  There  had  been  a  loud  cry.  Lift  np  your  heads,  ye  gates,  and  be  je  lift 
up,  ye  everlasting  doors."    At  length, 

*'  What  Lord  art  thou  ?  quoth  Lueifer.   A  toIoo  aLoud  said, 
Th«  Lord  of  Might  and  of  HeaTen,  that  Made  all  thin^, 
Duke  of  this  Dim  place.    Anon  unDo  the  gates 
That  Christ  may  eomen  in,  the  SUng's  son  of  heaven. 
And  with  that  Break  HeU  Brake,  with  aU  Belial's  Ban, 
Nor  any  Wight  or  Ward  Wide  opened  the  gates, 
Patriarehs  and  Prophets,  Populus  in  tenebria, 
Sang  out  with  Saint  John,  Ecce  Agnus  Dei." 

I  am  tempted  to  give  the  close  of  this  canto  —  so  characteristic  of  the  poem. 
He  had  said  in  Latin, tMercy  and  Charity  have  met  together;  Righteous- 
ness  and  Peace  have  kissed  each  other:  — 

"  Truth  Trumpeted  them,  and  sung  *  Te  Deum  landamus,* 
And  then  saLuted  Love,  in  a  Loud  note, 

Bcoe  quam  bonum  et  quam  Jocundum  est  habltare  fratres  in  nnum. 
Till  the  Day  Dawned,  ttiere  Damsels  Daunsed, 
'        That  men  Rang  to  the  Resurrection.    And  with  that  I  awaked, 
And  eaHed  Kitty  my  wife,  and  Kalotte  my  daughter, 
A  Rise  and  go  Rererenoe  Oods  Resurrection, 
And  Creep  on  knees  to  the  Gross,  and  Kiss  it  for  a  Jewel, 
And  RightftiUest  of  Reliqnes,  none  Richer  on  earth, 
Vor  Gods  Blessed  Body  it  Bare  for  our  Bote  (good). 
And  it  a  Feareth  the  Ilend ;  for  such  is  the  might, 
Hay  no  Orlsly  Ghost  Glide  where  it  shadoweth." 


384  LATIN  CHBISHANITT.  BookZIV. 

poet  may  have  broken  off  indeed  in  sad  despondency, 
and  left  his  design  unfinished ;  he  may  have  been  pre- 
vented irom  its  completion;  or,  what  is  fiur  less  im- 
probable, considering  the  way  in  which  the  Poem  has 
survived,  the  end  may  have  been  lost. 

The  Poet  who  could  address  such  opinions,  though 
wrapt  up  in  prudent  allegory,  to  the  popular  ear,  to  the 
ear  of  the  peasantry  of  England  ;  the  people  who  could 
listen  with  delight  to  such  strains,  were  fiur  advanced 
towards  a  revolt  from  Latin  Christianity.  Truth,  true 
religion,  was  not  to  be  found  with,  it  was  not  known 
by.  Pope,  Cardinals,  Bishops,  Clergy,  Monks,  Friars. 
It  was  to  be  sought  by  man  himself,  by  the  individual 
man,  by  the  poorest  man,  under  the  sole  guidance  of 
Reason,  Conscience,  and  of  the  Grace  of  God,  vouch- 
safed directly,  not  through  any  intermediate  human 
being,  or  even  Sacrament,  to  the  self-directing  soul. 
If  it  yet  respected  all  existing  doctrines,  it  respected 
them  not  as  resting  on  traditional  or  sacerdotal  author* 
ity.  There  is  a  manifest  appeal  throughout,  an  uncon- 
scious installation  of  Scripture  alone,^  as  the  ultimate 
judge ;  the  test  of  everything  is  a  moral  and  purely 
reUgious  one,  its  agreement  with  holiness  and  charity. 

English  prose  in  Wycliffe's  Bible,  the  higher  Eng- 
lish poetry  in  its  true  father,  Chaucer,  maintained  this 
prevailing  and  dominant  Teutonism.    Wycliffe's  Bible, 

1  <*  And  ]m  Run  to  Beligion,  and  hath  Rendored  the  Bibk, 
And  Preacheth  to  the  People  St.  Panics  words." 

Wright,  p.  166.  « 

He  quotes,  "Ye  suffer  fools  gladly"  (1  Cor.).  Is  this  Wydiffe?  Cktgj 
(Theology)  weds  a  wife ;  her  name  is  Scripture.  —  Wright,  p.  182.  I  take 
the  opportunity  of  observing  that  the  fiimous  prophecy,  ascribed  to  Lang- 
land,  about  the  King  who  should  suppress  the  monasteries,  is  merely  a 
Tague  and  general  prediction ;  though  the  naming  the  Abbot  of  Abingdon 
is  a  luc-ky  coincidence.  —  See  Wright,  p.  192. 


OBAP.Vn.  GEOFFBET  CHAUCER.  385 

as  translated  from  the  Vulgate,  had  not  so  entirely 
shaken  off  the  trammels  of  Latinity  as  our  later  ver- 
sions ;  but  this  first  bold  assertion  of  Teutonic  inde- 
pendence immeasurably  strengthened,  even  in  its  lan- 
guage, that  independence.  It  tasked  the  language,  as 
it  were,  to  its  utmost  vigor,  copiousness,  and  flexibility : 
and  by  thus  putting  it  to  the  trial,  forced  out  all  those 
latent  and  undeveloped  qualities.  It  was  constantly 
striving  to  be  English,  and  by  striving  became  so  more 
and  more.  Oompare  the  j&eedom  and  versatility  of 
Wycliffe's  Bible  with  Wycliffe's  Tracts.  Wycliffe  has 
not  only  advanced  in  the  knowledge  of  purer  and  more 
firee  religion,  he  is  becoming  a  master  of  purer  and 
more  fi'ee  English. 

Geofirey  Chaucer,  among  the  most  remarkable  of 
poets,  was  in  nothing  more  remarkable  than  in  being 
most  emphatically  an  English  poet.  Chaucer  lived  in 
courts  and  castles :  he  was  in  the  service  of  the  King, 
he  was  a  retainer  of  the  great  Duke  of  Lancaster.  In 
iise  court  and  in  the  castle,  no  doubt,  if  anywhere,  with 
the  Norman  chivalrous  magnificence  lingered  whatever 
remained  of  Norman  manners  and  language.  Chaucer 
had  served  in  the  armies  of  King  Edward  III. ;  he  had 
seen  almost  all  the  more  flourishing  countries,  many  of 
the  great  cities,  of  the  Continent,  of  Flanders,  France, 
Italy.  It  may  be  but  a  romantic  tradition,  that  at  the 
wedding  of  Violante  to  the  great  Duke  of  Milan  he 
had  seen  Petrarch,  perhaps  Boccaccio,  and  that  Frois- 
sart  too  was  present  at  that  splendid  festival.  It  may 
be  but  a  groundless  inference  from  a  misinterpreted 
passage  in  his  poems,  that  he  had  conversed  with  Pe- 
trarch (November,  1372)  ;  but  there  is  unquestionable 
evidence  that  Chaucer  was  at  Genoa  under  a  commisp 

VOL.  VIII.  25 


.  386  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

sion  from  the  Crown.  He  visited  brilliant  Florence, 
perhaps  others  of  the  noble  cities  of  Italy.  Five  years 
later  he  was  in  Flanders  and  at  Paris.  In  1378  he 
went  with  the  Embassy  to  demand  the  hand  of  a  French 
Princess  for  the  young  Richard  of  Bordeaux.  Still 
later  he  was  at  the  gorgeous  court  of  the  Visconti  at 
Milan. ^  Chaucer  was  master  of  the  whole  range  of 
,  vernacular  poetry,  which  was  bursting  forth  in  such 
young  and  prodigal  vigor,  in  the  languages  bom  from 
the  Romance  Latin.  He  had  read  Dante,  he  had  read 
Petrarch ;  to  Boccaccio  he  owed  the  groundwork  of 
two  of  his  best  poems  —  the  Knight's  Tale  of  Palamon 
and  Arcite  and  Griselidls.  I  cannot  but  think  that  he 
was  familiar  with  the  Troubadour  poetry  of  the  Langoe 
d'Oc ;  of  the  Langue  d'Oil,  he  knew  well  the  knightly 
tales  of  the  Trouvdres  and  the  Fabliaux,  as  well  as  the 
later  allegorical  school,  which  was  then  in  the  height 
of  its  fashion  in  Paris.  He  translated  the  Romance  of 
the  Rose. 

It  is  indeed  extraordinary  to  see  the  whole  of  the 
mediaeval,  or  post-mediaeval  poetry  (with  the  great  ex- 
ception of  the  Dantesque  vision  of  the  other  world) 
summed  up,  and  as  it  were  represented  by  Chaucer  in 
one  or  more  perfect  examples,  and  so  offered  to  the 
English  people.  There  is  the  legend  of  martyrdom  in 
Constance  of  Surrie ;  the  miracle  legend,  not  without 
its  harsh  alloy  of  hatred  to  the  unbeliever,  in  Hugh  of 
Lincoln  ;  the  wild,  strange,  stirring  adventures  told  in 
the  free  prolix  Epopee  of  the  Trouvdre,  in  its  roman- 
ticized classic  form,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida ;  in  the 
wilder  Oriental  strain  of  magic  and  glamour  in  the  half- 

1  Comptfe  the  lives  of  Cluiacer,  especially  the  latest  by  Sir  Harris  NieiK 
las. 


Chap.  Vn.  CHAUCER  ENGLISH.  387 

told  tale  of  Cambuscan ;  the  chivalroas  in  Palamon 
and  Arcite  ;  to  which  perhaps  may  be  added  the  noble 
Franklin's  Tale.  There  is  the  Fabliau  in  its  best,  in 
its  tender  and  gracefiil  form,  in  Griselidis  ;  in  its  gayer 
and  more  licentious,  in  January  and  May;  in  its 
coarser,  more  broadly  humorous,  and,  to  our  finer  man- 
ners, repulsive.  Miller's  Tale ;  and  in  that  of  the  Reve. 
The  unfinished  Sir  Thopas  might  seem  as  if  the  spirit 
of  Ariosto  or  Cervantes,  or  of  lighter  or  later  poets, 
was  struggling  for  precocious  being.  There  is  the 
genial  apologue  of  the  Cock  and  the  Fox,  which  might 
seem  an  episode  from  the  universal  brute  Epic,  the 
Latin,  or  Flemish,  or  German  or  French  Reynard. 
The  more  cumbrous  and  sustained  French  allegory  ap- 
pears in  the  translation  of  the  Romaunt  of  the  Rose ; 
the  more  rich  and  simple  in  the  Temple  of  Fame. 
There  are  a  few  slighter  pieces  which  may  call  to  mind 
the  Lais  and  Serventes  of  the  South. 

Yet  all  the  while  Chaucer  in  thought,  in  character, 
in  language,  is  English  —  resolutely,  determinately,  al- 
most boastfully  English.^  The  creation  of  native  poe- 
try was  his  deliberate  aim ;  and  already  that  broad, 
practical,  humorous  yet  serious  view  of  life,  of  life  in 
its  infinite  variety,  that  which  reaches  its  height  in 
Shakspeare,  has  begun  to  reveal  itself  in  Chaucer. 
The  Canterbury  Tales,  even  in  the  Preface,  represent, 
as  in  a  moving  comedy,  the  whole  social  state  of  the 
times  ;  they  display  human  character  in  action  as  in 

1  There  is  a  ctuiouB  passage  in  the  Prologue  to  the  Testament  of  Love  on 
the  Boveran  wits  in  Latin  and  in  French.  "  Let  then  Clerkes  enditen  in 
Latin,  for  thej  have  the  propertie  of  science,  and  the  knowlege  in  that  fac- 
nltie ;  and  let  Frenchmen  in  their  French  also  enditen  their  qaaint  termes, 
for  it  is  kindely  to  their  monthes ;  and  let  ns  shew  onr  fantasies  in  such 
wordes  as  wee  leameden  of  our  dames  tongue."  —  Fol.  271. 


888  LATIN  CHRISTIAOTTT.  Book  XIV. 

speech ;  and  that  character  is  the  man  himself,  the 
whole  man,  Mrith  all  his  mingling,  shifting,  crossing, 
contradictory  passions,  motives,  peculiarities,  his  great- 
nesses and  weaknesses,  his  virtues  and  his  vanities ; 
every  one  is  perfectly  human,  yet  every  one  the  indi- 
vidual man,  with  the  very  dress,  gesture,  look,  speedii, 
tone  of  the  individual.  There  is  an  example  of  every 
order  and  class  of  society,  high,*  low,  secular,  religioas. 
As  yet  each  is  distinct  in  his  class,  as  his  class  from 
others.  Contrast  Chaucer's  pilgrims  with  the  youths 
and  damsels  of  Boccaccio.  Exquisitely  as  these  are 
drawn,  and  in  some  respects  finely  touched,  they  are 
all  of  one  gay  light  class ;  almost  any  one  might  tell 
any  tale  with  equal  propriety ;  they  difier  in  name,  in 
nothing  else. 

In  his  religious  characters,  if  not  in  his  religious  tales 
(religion  is  still  man's  dominant  motive),  Chaucer  is 
by  no  means  the  least  happy.  In  that  which  is  purely 
religious  the  poet  himself  is  profoundly  religious ;  in 
his  Prayer  to  the  Vii^n,  written  for  the  Duchess 
Blanche  of  Lancaster,  for  whom  ako  he  poured  forth 
his  sad  elegy ;  in  his  Grentle  Martyrs  St.  Constantia  and 
St.  Cecilia :  he  is  not  without  his  touch  of  bigotry,  as 
has  been  said,  in  Hugh  of  Lincoln.  Bnt  the  strong 
Teutonic  good  sense  of  Chaucer  had  looked  more 
deeply  into  the  whole  monastic  and  sacerdotal  system. 
His  wisdom  betrays  itself  in  his  most  mirthful,  as  in 
his  coarsest  humor.  He  who  drew  the  Monk,  the  Par- 
doner, the  Friar  Limitour,  the  Summoner,  had  seen 
far  more  than  the  outer  form,  the  worldliness  of  the 
Churchman,  the  abuse  of  indulgences,  the  extortions 
of  the  friars,  the  licentiousness  of  the  Ecclesiastical 
Courts,  of  the  Ecclesiastics  themselves :  he  had  pen- 


CHAP.vn.  CHAtrCER'S  RELIGION.  889 

etrated  into  the  iimer  depths  of  the  religion.  Yet  his 
wisdom,  even  in  his  most  biting  passages,  is  tempered 
with  charity.  Though  every  order,  the  Abbot,  the  Pri- 
oress, the  Friar,  the  Pardoner,  the  Summoner,  are  im- 
personated to  the  life,  with  all  their  weaknesses,  follies, 
affectations,  even  vices  and  falsehoods,  in  nnsparing 
£reedom,  in  fearless  truth,  yet  none,  or  hardly  one,  is 
absolutely  odious ;  the  jolly  hunting  Abbot,  with  his 
dainty  horses,  their  bridles  jingling  in  the  wind,  his 
greyhounds,  his  bald  shining  head,  his  portly  person^ 
his  hood  fastened  with  a  rich  pin  in  a  love-knot :  the 
tender  and  delicate  Prioress,  with  what  we  should  now 
call  her  sentimentality,  virtuous  no  doubt,  but  with  her 
broad  and  somewhat  suspicious  motto  about  all-coib- 
quering  love :  the  Friar,  who  so  sweetly  heard  confes- 
sion, and  gave  such  pleasant  absolution,  urging  men, 
instead  of  weeping  and  prayers,  to  give  silver  to  the 
friars ;  with  his  lisping  voice  and  twinkling  eyes,  yet 
the  best  beggar  in  his  house,  to  whom  the  poorest 
widow  could  not  deny  a  farthing :  the  Pardoner  with 
his  wallet  in  his  lap,  brimful  of  pardons  from  Rome, 
with  his  relics  or  pillowbeer  covered  with  part  of  our 
Lady's  veil  and  the  glass  vessel  with  pig's  bones :  yet 
in  Church  the  Pardoner  was  a  noble  Ecclesiast,  read 
well,  chanted  with  such  moving  tones,  that  no  one 
could  resist  him  and  not  throw  silver  into  the  offertory. 
The  Summoner,  whose  office  and  the  Archdeacon's 
Court  in  which  he  officiated  seem  to  have  been  most 
unpopular,  is  drawn  in  the  darkest  colors,  with  his  fire- 
red  cherubim's  face,  lecherous,  venal,  licentious.  Above 
all^  the  Parish  Priest  of  Chaucer  has  thrown  off  Roman 
mediaeval  Sacerdotalism ;  he  feels  his  proper  place  ;  he 
arrays  himself  only  in  the  virtues  which  are  the  essence 


390  LATIN   CHRISTIAHriT.  BoosXIT. 

of  his  holy  fbnctioii.  This  nnriyalled  picture  is  the 
most  powerfiil  because  the  most  quiet,  nninsnlting,  un- 
exasperating  satire.  ChaWs  Parish  Priest  might 
have  been  drawn  from  Wycli£k,  from  W jcliffs  at  Lnt- 
terworth,  not  at  Oxford,  from  Wydiflfe,  not  the  fierce 
controversialist,  but  the  a£fectionate  and  beloved  teacher 
of  his  hnmble  flock.  The  Priest's  Tale  is  a  sermon, 
prolix  indeed,  but,  except  in  urging  confession  and 
holding  up  the  confessorial  office  of  the  Priesthood, 
purely  and  altogether  moral  in  its  scope  and  language.^ 
The  translation  of  the  Romaunt  of  the  Rose,  with  all 
its  unmitigated  bitterness  against  the  Friars,  is  a  fur- 
ther illustration  of  the  religious  mind  of  Chaucer.  If 
we  could  interpret  with  any  certainty  the  allegory  and 
the  mystic  and  poetic  prose  in  the  Testament  of  Love, 
we  might  hope  for  more  light  on  the  religion  and  on 
the  later  period  of  Chaucer's  life.*  It  is  evident  that 
at  that  time,  towards  the  close  of  his  life,  he  was  in 
disgrace  and  in  prison.  Other  documents  show  that 
his  pensions  or  allowances  from  the  Crown  were,  for  a 
time  at  least,  withdrawn.  There  is  no  doubt  that  his 
imprisonment  arose  out  of  some  turbulent  and  popular 
movements  in  the  City  of  London.  There  is  eveiy 
probability  that  these  movements  were  connected  with 
the  struggle  to  reinvest  the  Wycliffite  (and  so  long  as 
the   Lancastrian    party   was    Wycliffite)    Lancastrian 


1 1  have  little  doubt  that  in  the  Retractation  aaciibed  to  Chaneer  at  tiia 
doee  of  this  Sermon,  Tjmrhitt  is  right  in  that  part  wfcich  he  ma^s  (br  in- 
terpolation.   Bead  the  passage  without  it,  all  is  clear. 

^  Speght  in  his  argument  to  the  Testament  of  Love,  if  it  be  Spe|^t*a. 
^  Chaucer  did  compile  this  booke  as  a  comfort  to  himselfe  after  great  greefin 
conceived  for  some  rash  attempts  of  the  Commons,  with  which  bee  had 
joyned,  and  thereby  was  in  feare  to  lose  the  fiivour  of  his  best  firiends."  — 
Fol.  272. 


Chap.VIL  GERMAN  TEUTONISM.  891 

Mayor,^  John  of  Northampton  in  the  civic  dignity. 
The  Londoners  were  Lollards,  and  if  on  the  people's 
side,  Chaucer  was  on  the  Lollards'  side.  Chaucer,  in 
his  imprisonment,  would,  like  Boethius  of  old,  ftom 
whom  the  Testament  of  Love  was  imitated,  seek  con- 
solation, but  his  consolation  is  in  religion,  not  philos- 
ophy. His  aspiration  is  after  the  beautiful  and  all- 
excelling  Margarita,  the  pearl  of  great  price,  who,  like 
the  Beatrice  of  Dante,  seems  at  once  an  ideal  or  ideal- 
ized mistress,  and  the  impersonation  of  pure  religion. 
Love  alone  can  bestow  on  him  this  precious  boon  ;  and 
divine  love,  as  usual,  borrowing  some  of  its  imagery 
and  language  from  human  love,  puriBes  and  exalts  the 
soul  of  the  poet  for  this  great  blessing  by  imparting 
the  knowledge  of  God  in  the  works  of  his  power,  and 
the  works  of  his  grace  and  glory.  More  than  this  the 
obstinate  obscurity  of  the  allegory  refuses  to  reveal. 

We  must  turn  again  to  Germany,  which  we  left  in 
ite  intermwliate  state  of  slowly  dawning  Teutonism. 
Germany,  it  has  been  seen,  rejected  the  first  free  move- 
ment of  her  kindred  Teutons  in  England,  because  it 
was  taken  up  with  such  passionate  zeal  by  the  hostile 
Sclavonians.  The  reformation  in  Bohemia,  followed 
by  its  wild  and  cruel  wars,  civil  and  foreign,  threw 
back  the  German  mind  in  aversion  and  terror  upon 
Latin  Christianity.  Yet  Teutonism  only  slumbered, 
it  was  not  extinguished ;  it  was  too  deeply  rooted  ; 

1  See  the  whole  very  carious  but  obscure  passage,  fbl.  277 :  "  Then,  La- 
dy, I  thought  that  every  man  that  by  anye  way  of  right,  rightfully  done, 
may  helpe  any  commune  (helpe)  to  been  saved."  Chaucer  was  in  the  se- 
crets of  his  party,  which  he  was  urged  to  betray.  He  goes  on  to  speak  of 
the  *'  dtie  of  London,  which  is  to  me  so  deare  and  sweet,  in  which  I  was 
forth  growne;  and  more  kindly  love  have  I  to  that  place  than  to  anye  other 
in  yearth." 


892  ULTm  CHBISTIAIVITT.  Book  XIV. 

it  had  been  slowly  growing  up  from  its  undying  n)ot 
for  centuries.  The  strife  of  ages  between  the  Em- 
peror and  the  Pope  could  not  but  leave  a  profound 
jealousy,  and  even  antipathy,  tn  a  great  mass  of  the 
nation.  Throughout  there  had  been  a  strong  Impe- 
rialist, a  German  faction.  The  haughty  aggresskm 
of  John  XXII.  (a  Pontiff  not  on  the  Papal  throne 
at  Rome)  was  felt  as  a  mere  wanton  and  unprovoked 
insult.  It  was  not  now  the  Pope  asserting  against 
the  Emperor  the  independence  of  Italy  or  of  Rome ; 
not  defending  Rome  and  Italy  &om  the  agression  of 
Transalpine  barbarians  by  carrying  the  war  against 
the  Emperor  into  Grermany.  Louis  of  Bavaria  waald 
never  have  descended  into  Italy  if  the  Pope  had  left 
him  in  peace  on  his  own  side  of  the  Alps.  The  shame 
of  Germany  at  the  pusillanimity  of  Louis  of  Bavaria 
wrought  more  strongly  on  German  pride :  the  Pope 
was  more  profoundly  hated  for  the  self-«ought  humil- 
iation of  the  Emperor.  At  the  same  time  the  rise 
of  the  great  and  wealthy  commercial  cities  had  cre- 
ated a  new  class  with  higher  aspirations  for  freedom 
than  their  turbulent  princes  and  nobles,  who  yv^ire 
constantly  in  league  with  the  Pope  against  the  Em- 
peror, of  whom  they  were  more  jealous  than  of  the 
Pope ;  or  than  the  Prince  Bishops,  who  would  set 
up  a  hierarchical  instead  of  a  papal  supremacy.  The 
burghers,  often  hostile  to  their  Bishops,  and  even  to 
the  cathedral  Chapters,  with  whom  they  were  at  strife 
for  power  and  jurisdiction  in  their  towns,  seized  per- 
petually the  excuse  of  their  papalizing  to  eject  their 
Prelates,  and  to  erect  their  lower  Clergy  into  a  kind 
of  spiritual  Republic.  The  Schism  had  prostrated 
the  Pope  before   the  temporal  power ;  the  EmpercH* 


C»^.Vn.  GESICAN  TEUTOmSM.  398 

of  Grermanj  had  compeDed  the  Pope  to  summon  a 
Council ;  at  that  Council  he  had  taken  the  acknowl- 
edged lead,  had  almost  himself  dq)osed  a  Pope.  It 
is  true  that  at  the  close  he  had  been  out-manoeuTPed 
by  the  subtle  and  pertinacious  Churchman ;  Martin  Y. 
had  regained  the  lost  ground;  a  barren,  ambiguous, 
delusive  Concordat  had  baffled  the  peremptory  de- 
mand of  Germany  for  a  reformation  of  the  Church 
in  its  head  and  in  its  members.^  Yet  even  at  the 
height  of  the  Bohemian  war,  dark,  deepening  mur- 
murs were  heard  of  German  cities,  German  Princes 
joining  the  Antipapal  movement.  During  the  Council 
of  Basle,  wh«a  Latin  Christianity  was  severed  into  two 
oppugnant  parties,  that  of  the  Pope  Eugenius  lY.  and 
that  of  the  Transalpine  reforming  hierarchy,  Germany 
had  stood  aloof  in  cold,  proud  neutrality  :  but  for  the 
subtle  poUcy  of  one  man,  ^neas  Sylvius,  and  the 
weak  and  yielding  flexibility  of  another,  the  Exd- 
peror  Frederick  III.,  there  might  have  been  a  Ger- 
man spiritual  nationality,  a  German  independent 
Church.  The  Pope  was  compelled  to  the  humilia- 
tion of  restoring  the  Prelate  Electors  whom  he  had 
dared  to  degrade,  to  degrade  their  successors  whom 
he  had  appointed.  Gregory  of  Heimberg,  the  rep- 
resentative of  the  German  mind,  had  defied  the  Ro- 
man Court  in  Rome  itself,  had  denounced  Papal 
haughtiness  to  the  face  of  the   Pope.^     But  for  one 

1  Banke  has  written  thus  (I  should  not  quote  in  English,  if  the  English 
were  not  Mrs.  Austin's):  "  Had  this  course  been  persevered  in  with  unioB 
and  constancy,  the  German  Catholic  Church,  established  in  so  many  great 
principalities,  and  splendidly  provided  with  the  most  munificent  endow- 
ments, would  have  acquired  a  perfectly  independent  position,  in  which  she 
might  have  resisted  the  subsequent  political  storms  with  as  much  fiimneas 
as  England."  —  Reformation  in  Gennany,  vol.  i.  p.  48. 

'  Banke,  p.  49.    Compare  these  passages  above. 


894  LATIN  CHRISTUNITT.  Book  XIV. 

event,  all  the  policy  of  .tineas  Sylvius,  and  all  the 
subserviency  of  Frederick  III.  to  him  who  he  sup- 
posed was  his  counsellor,  but  who  was  his  ruler,  had 
been  unavailing.  As  the  aggressive  crusade  to  Pal- 
estine gave  the  dominion  of  Latin  Christendom  to 
the  older  Popes,  so  the  defensive  crusade  against  the 
terrible  progress  of  the  Turk,  which  threatened  both 
Teutonic  and  Latin  Christendom,  placed  the  Pope 
again  at  the  head,  not  in  arms,  but  in  awe  and  influ- 
ence, of  the  whole  West.  Germany  and  the  Pope 
were  in  common  peril,  they  were  compelled  to  close 
alliance.  In  justice  to  ^neas  Sylvius,  when  Pius  II., 
it  may  be  acknowledged  that  it  was  his  providential 
sagacity,  his  not  ungrounded  apprehension  of  the  great- 
ness of  the  danger,  which  made  him  devote  his  whole 
soul  to  the  league  against  the  Ottoman ;  if  it  was  also 
wise  policy,  as  distracting  the  German  mind  from 
dangerous  meditations  of  independence,  this  even  with 
Pius  II.  was  but  a  secondary  and  subordinate  con- 
sideration. The  Turk  was  the  cause  of  the  truce  of 
more  than  half  a  century  between  the  Papacy  and 
the  Empire. 

But  throughout  all  that  time  the  silent  growth  of  the 
German  languages,  the  independent  Teutonic  thought 
expressed  in  poetry,  even  in  preaching,  was  widening 
the  alienation.  During  the  century  and  a  half  in 
which  English  Teutonism  was  resolutely  bracing  it- 
self to  practical  and  political  religious  independence, 
and  the  English  language  ripening  to  its  masculine 
force,  with  the  Anglo-Saxon  successfully  wrestling 
for  the  mastery  against  the  Southern  Latin  ;  in  Grer- 
many  a  silent  rebellious  mysticism  was  growing  up 
even  in  her  cloisters,  and  working  into  the  depths  of 


Chap.  VH.  PREACamNG  IN  GERMANY.  895 

men's  hearts  and  minds.  The  movement  was  more 
profound,  more  secret,  and  unconseioas  even  among 
those  most  powerfully  under  its  influence.  There 
was  not  only  the  open  insurrection  of  Marsilio  of 
Padua  and  William  of  Ockham  against  the  Papal 
or  hierarchical  authority,  and  the  wild  revolt  of  the 
*  Fraticelli;  there  was  likewise  at  once  an  acknowl- 
edgment of  and  an  attempt  to  satisfy  that  yearning 
of  the  religious  soul  for  what  the  Church,  the  Latin 
Church,  had  ceased  to  supply,  which  was  no  longer 
to  be  found  in  the  common  cloister-Ufe,  which  the 
new  Orders  had  ceased  to  administer  to  the  wants  of 
the  people.  During  this  time,  too,  while  Germany 
luxuriated  in  the  Romance  Legend,  as  well  as  in  the 
Chivalrous  Romance,  and  the  Hymn  still  in  some 
degree  vied  with  the  Lay  of  the  Minnesinger,  Ger- 
man prose  had  grown  up  and  was  still  growing  up 
out  of  vernacular  preaching.  From  the  ear-  German 
liest  period  some  scanty  instruction,  catechet-  p^""***"*- 
leal  or  oral,  from  the  glosses  or  from  fragments  of  the 
Scripture,  had  been  communicated  in  German  to  the 
people :  some  German  homilies,  translated  from  the 
Latin,  had  been  in  use.  But  the  great  impulse  was 
given  by  the  new  Orders.  The  Dominican  Conrad 
of  Marburg  had  been  forced  at  times  to  leave  the 
over-crowded  church  for  the  open  air,  on  account  of 
the  multitudes  which  gathered  round  the  fierce  In- 
quisitor, to  hear  his  sermons,  to  witness  the  conclusion 
of  his  sermons,  the  burning  of  a  holocaust  of  here- 
tics. Far  different  was  the  tone  of  the  Franciscan 
Bertholdt  of  Winter thur,^  who  from  1247  to  Berthowt. 


1  Compare  Lejaer,  EinleitaDg.    Deutsche  Predigten  des  viii.  und  xiv. 
Jahrhnnderts,  Quedlinburg,  18dS,  p.  xvi.,  for  the  life  of  Bertholdt  GervinuB 


896  ULTix  cHBisTUNrnr.  Bookxiv 

1272  preached  with  amaang  sacoess  throoghoat  Bava- 
ria, Austria,  Moravia,  Thnringia.  EUs  sermons,  takes 
down  by  the  zeal  of  his  hearers,  were  popular  in  the 
best  sense ;  he  had  the  instinct  of  eloquence ;  he  is 
even  now  by  the  best  judges  set  above  Tauler  him- 
8el£  In  earnestness,  in  energy,  in  his  living  ima- 
gery from  external  nature,  Bertholdt  was  the  popular 
preacher  in  the  open  field,  on  the  hill-side,  Tauler 
the  contemplative  monk  in  the  pulpit  of  the  cloister- 
chapel.^  Nor  did  Bertholdt  stand  alone  in  these 
vivid  popular  addresses.  That  which,  notwithstand* 
ing  these  examples,  was  at  least  inefficiently  be- 
stowed by  the  Church,  stirring  and  awakening  ver>- 
nacnlar  instruction,  was  prodigally  poured  fi>rth  from 
other  quarters.  The  dissidents  under  their  various 
names,  and  the  Beghards,  were  everywhere.  At 
the  beginning  of  the  fourteenth  century  Alsace  was 
almost  in  possession  of  the  Brethren  and  Sisters  of 
the  Free  Spirit;  they  were  driven  out  and  scattered, 
but  expulsion  and  dispersion,  if  it  does  not  multiply 
the  numbers,  usually  increases  the  force  and  power  of 
such  communities.^  Mysticism  within  the  Church 
strove  to  fill  the  void  caused  by  their  expulsion.  Of 
these  Mystics  the  most  famous  names  are  Rysbroeck 
of  Cologne,  Master  Eckhart,  John  Tauler,  Nicolas 
of  Suso.  The  life  of  Tauler  will  show  us  the  times 
and  the  personal  influence  of  these  men,  and  that  of 
their  opinions.  It  occupies  all  the  early  part  of  the 
fourteenth  century. 

(Deutsche  Poeeie)  writes,  *'  Die  Tortrefflidikeit  der  Bertboldt'icheii  Predi^ 
ten,  die  weit  die  Schriften  Taalera  ilbertrifit."  —  Vol.  ii  p.  14S.  Sdunidl, 
Joannes  Tauler,  p.  82. 

^  Lejser,  Deutsche  Predigten. 

>  Schmidt,  Tauler,  p.  7.  In  1317,  there  wbs  a  Tident  penecatioo  by 
John  of  Ochsenatein,  Bishop  of  Straabuig. 


CttAP.  Vn.  TATTLER.  897 

John  Tauler^  was  bom  in  Strasburgin  1290.  At 
tJiie  age  of  eighteen  the  religious  youth  entered  the 
Dominican  cloister.  He  went  to  study  at  Paris ;  but 
at  Paris  the  Doctors  were  ever  turning  over  the  leaves 
of  huge  books,  they  cared  not  for  the  one  book  of 
life.^  Probably  on  his  return  to  Strasburg  he  came 
nnder  the  influence  of  Master  Eckhart.  This  re- 
markable man  preached  in  German ;  countless  hear- 
ers thronged  even  to  Eckhart's  vernacular  sermons. 
But  Eckhart  was  a  Schoolman  in  the  incongruous 
(rfBce  of  a  popular  preacher;  he  was  more  than  a 
Schoolman^  he  aspired  to  be  a  philosopher.  His  was 
not  a  passionate,  simple,  fervent  theology,  but  the 
mystic  divinity  of  Dionysius  the  Areopagite;  it  ap- 
proached the  Arabic  Aristotelian  philosophy.  He 
held,  indeed,  the  Creation  out  of  nothing,  and  in 
theory  repudiated  the  Eternity  of  Matter ;  but  Crefr- 
Hon  seemed  a  necessity  of  the  divine  nature.  The 
Universal  could  not  but  be  particular ;  so  Grod  was 
all  things,  and  all  things  were  God.  The  soul  came 
fefd)  from  God,  it  was  an  emanation ;  it  had  part  of 
the  light  of  God,  in  itself  inextinguishable,  but  that 
Kght  required  kindling  and  quickening  by  divine 
grace.^  Thus  man  stands  between  the  spiritual  and 
the  corporeal,  between  time  and  eternity.  God  will 
reveal  himself  fully,  pour  himself  wholly  into  the  rear 
sonable  soul  of  man.     It  is  not  by  love  but  by  in- 

^  JoAnnea  TaiUer  von  Strasbarg,  von  D.  Carl  Schmidt.    Hambufg,  1S41. 

3  Tauler,  p.  3.    Quotation  from  Tauler's  Sermon  in  note. 

8  See  the  Chapter  on  Eckhart.  Ritter,  Christliche  Philosophie,  iv.  p. 
488,  &c.  **  Eckhart  iat  mit  den  Theologen  seiner  Zeit  von  der  IJeberzeug- 
ung  durchdrangen,  dass  die  vemunftige  Seele  des  Menschen  dazu  bestimmt 
aei  in  der  innigsten  Verbindong  mit  Grott,  des  hochsten  Gutes,  ganz  und 
ohne  alle  Schmalerungf  theilhaftig  za  werden  •  .  .  Gott  soil  sich  ganz 
offenbaren,  wir  ihn  ganz  erkennen :  er  soil  ganz  unser  weiden."  — P.  503. 


898  LATIN  CHKISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

telligence  that  the  mystic  reunion  takes  place  with 
God ;  by  knowledge  we  are  one  with  God ;  that  which 
knows  and  that  which  is  known  are  one.  Master 
Eckhart  is  the  parent  of  German  metaphysical  theol- 
ogy. But  if  Tauler  was  caught  with  the  glowing 
language  in  which  Eckhart  clothed  these  colder  opin- 
ions, he  stood  aloof  from  the  kindred  teaching  of  the 
Beghards,  with  their  more  passionate,  more  religious 
Pantheism  —  the  same  in  thought  with  Eckhart,  more 
bold  and  fearless  in  expression. 

But  if  of  itself  the  soul  of  Tauler  sought  a  deeper 
and  more  fervent  faith,  the  dark  and  turbulent  times 
would  isolate  or  make  such  a  soul  seek  its  sympathy 
within  a  narrower  circle.  It  was  the  height  of  tlie  war 
between  John  XXII.  and  Louis  of  Bavaria,  and  no- 
where did  that  war  rage  more  violently  than  in  Straa- 
burg.  The  Bishop  John  of  Ochsenstein  was  for  the 
Pope,  the  Magistrates,  the  people,  for  the  Emperor,  or 
rather  for  insulted  Germany.  The  Bishop  laid  his  in- 
terdict on  the  city  ;  the  Magistrates,  the  Town  Council, 
declared  that  the  Clergy  who  would  not  perform  their 
functions  must  be  driven  from  the  city.*  The  Clei^, 
the  Monks,  the  Friars,  were  divided:  here  the  bells 
were  silent,  the  churches  closed ;  there  they  tolled  for 
prayers,  and  the  contumacious  Clergy  performed  for- 
bidden services.  No  wonder  that  religious  men  sought 
that  religion  in  themselves  which  they  found  not  in  the 
church  or  in  the  cloister ;  they  took  refuge  in  the  sanc- 
tuary of  their  own  thoughts,  from  the  religion  which 

1  **  Do  soltent  ro  ouch  f&rltM  slngen, 
Oder  aber  xu  dnr  atatt  spiingeii.*' 

Konigfho/fn  Orofueif ,  1S8-9. 
Schmidt,  p.  14. 
See  Book  zii.  c.  7. 


CHAP.Vn.  FRIENDS  OF  GOD.  899 

was  contesting  the  world.  In  all  the  great  cities  rose 
a  secret  unorganized  brotherhood,  bound  together  only 
by  silent  infelt  sympathies,  the  Friends  of  God.  This 
appellation  was  a  secession,  a  tacit  revolt,  an  assump- 
tion of  superiority.  God  was  not  to  be  worshipped  in 
the  church  alone,  with  the  Clergy  alone,  with  the 
Monks  alone,  in  the  Ritual,  even  in  the  Sacraments ; 
he  was  within,  in  the  heart,  in  the  life.  This  and  kin- 
dred brotherhoods  embraced  all  orders.  Priests,  Monks, 
Friars,  Nobles,  Burghers,  Peasants ;  they  had  their 
Prophets  and  Prophetesses,  above  all,  their  Preachers.^ 

1  On  the  "  Friends  of  God.**  see  Schmidt,  Anhang.  M.  Carl  Schmidt 
has  now  discovered  and  printed  some  very  curious  documents,  which  throw 
more  full  but  yet  dubious  light  on  the  "  Friends  of  God/*  and  their  great 
leader  Nicolas  of  Basle.  They  were  Mystics  to  the  height  of  Mysticism : 
each  believer  was  in  direct  union  with  God,  with  the  Trinity  not  the  Holy 
Ghost  alone.  They  were  not  Waldensians.  They  were  faithful  to  the 
whole  medieval  imaginative  creed,  Transubstantiation,  worship  of  the 
Virgin  and  Saints,  Purgatory.  Their  union  with  the  Deity  was  not  that 
of  Pantheism,  or  of  passionate  love ;  it  was  rather  through  the  fantasy. 
They  had  wonders,  visions,  special  revelations,  prophecies.  Their  peculiar 
heresy  was  the  denial  of  all  special  prerogative  to  the  Clergy,  except  the 
celebration  of  the  Sacraments ;  the  layman  had  equal  sanctity,  equal  com- 
munion with  the  Deity,  saw  visions,  uttered  prophecies.  Their  only  sym- 
pathy with  the  Waldensians  was  Anti-Sacerdotalism.  Neither  were  they 
Biblical  Christians ;  they  honored,  loved  the  Bible,  but  sought  and  obtained 
revelation  beyond  it.  They  rejected  one  clause  of  the  Lord*8  Prayer. 
Temptations  were  marks  of  Grod^s  favor  not  to  be  deprecated.  But  though 
suffering  was  a  sign  of  the  Divine  Love,  it  was  not  self-inflicted  suffering. 
They  disclaimed  asceticism,  self-maceration,  self-torture.  All  things  to  the 
beloved  were  of  God ;  all  therefore  indifferent,  seclusion,  poverty.  In  1367 
Nicolas  of  Basle,  with  his  twelve  friends  or  disciples  (so  commanded  by  a 
dream),  set  forth  from  the  Oberland  under  the  guidance  of  a  dog  to  find  a 
domicile.  After  a  wild  journey  over  moss  and  moor,  the  dog  barked  and 
scratched  up  the  earth.  They  determined  to  build  (with  the  permission  of 
the  Duke  of  Austria  to  whom  the  land  belonged)  a  chapel,  with  a  pleasant 
chamber  for  each;  here  they  dwelt,  recluses,  not  monks,  under  no  vows, 
withdrawn  from  the  world,  but  well  informed  of  what  passed  in  the  world 
Eight  of  them  afterwards  went  into  foreign  lands  to  Hungary,  to  Italy. 

They  had  other  places  of  retreat,  and  it  should  seem  multitudes  of  fol- 
'owers  attached  to  them  with  more  or  less  intimacy.    Nicolas  of  Basle,  as 


400  LATIN  CHSISTIAimT.  Book  XIV. 

Some  convents  were  entirely  in  thdr  power.  In  one 
thing  alone  they  sided  with  the  Town  Councils  —  in 
denouncing  the  unlawfulness,  the  wickedness  of  closing 
the  churches  against  the  poor ;  they  rejected  the  mon- 
strous doctrine  that  the  Pope  and  the  Bishops  might 
withhold  the  blessings  of  religion  from  the  many  for 
the  sins,  or  what  they  chose  to  call  the  sins,  of  the 
few.  Christian  love  was  something  higher,  holier  than 
Bishop  or  than  Pope.  John  Tauler  was  an  earnest 
disciple,  a  powerful  apostle  of  this  lofty  mysticism  ;  he 
preached  with  wonderful  success  in  Strasburg,  in  some 
of  the  neighboring  convents,  in  towns  and  villages,  in 
the  cities.  He  journeyed  even  to  Cologne,  the  seat 
of  this  high  mysticism;  there  the  fiunous  Rysbroeck 
taught  with  the  utmost  power  and  popularity.  Tauler 
was  ofien  at  Basle,  where  Henry  of  Nordlingen,  who 
had  respected  the  Papal  interdict  at  Constance,  re- 
sumed his  forbidden  functions.  Tauler  threw  aside  all 
scholastic  subtilties ;  he  strove  to  be  plain,  simple,  com- 


specially  inflpired,  held  boundless  influence  and  authority  over  all,  whether 
"  Friends  of  God,"  or  not,  over  Tauler,  Rulman  Merswin,  and  othen. 

As  the  days  of  the  Church  grew  darker  under  the  later  Popes  at  Avig- 
non, and  during  the  Schism,  visions,  dreams  multiplied  and  darkened 
aroimd  them.  Nicolas  visited  Gregoiy  XL  at  Rome;  he  reproved  the 
Pope's  inertness,  his  sins.  Gregory,  at  first  indignant,  was  overawed,  and 
won  by  the  commanding  holiness  of  Nicolas.  In  1278  Nicolas  with  his 
followers  prayed  together  from  the  17th  to  the  25th  March  to  God,  to  dispd 
tha  dark  weather  which  overhung  the  Church.  They  were  directed  to 
'*  wait."  The  time  of  '*  waiting  "  lasted  to  March  26th,  1383.  In  the  mean 
time  they  scrupled  not  to  speak  with  the  utmost  freedom  of  the  Pope  and 
the  Clergy.  They  disclaimed  both  Popes.  Many  awful  visions  were  sees 
by  many  believers;  many  terrible  prophecies  were  sent  abroad. 

At  length  Nicolas  and  some  of  his  chief  followers  set  out  as  preachers  of 
repentance.  In  1893  Martin  of  Maintz  was  buried  in  Cologne;  othen  in 
Heidelberg;  Nicolas  with  two  of  hia  chief  and  oonatant  disciplea  at  Vienna 
in  Danphiny.  —  See  die  Gotteafrennde  ia  xit.  Jahzhondeft  von  Cari 
Schmidt    lena,  1865. 


CHAP.Vn.  NICOLAS  OF  BASLE.  401 

prehensible  to  the  humblest  understanding ;  he  preached 
in  German,  but  still  with  deferential  citations  in  Latin. 
Tauler  sought  no  Papal  license ;  it  was  his  mission, 
it  was  his  imperative  duty  as  a  Priest,  to  preach  the 
Gospel. 

But  Tauler  was  to  undergo  a  sterner  trial,  to  be 
trained  in  another  school.  In  Basle  he  had  been 
marked  by  men  of  a  different  cast,  the  gauge  of  his 
mind  had  been  taken,  the  depth  of  his  heart  sounded, 
his  religion  weighed  and  found  wanting.  In  Strasburg 
appeared  a  stranger  who  five  times  sat  at  the  feet  of 
Tauler,  and  listened  to  his  preaching  with  serious, 
searching  earnestness.  He  was  a  layman,  he  sought 
an  interview  with  Tauler,  confessed  to  him,  received 
the  Sacrament  at  his  hands.  He  then  expressed  his 
wish  that  Tauler  would  preach  how  man  could  attain 
perfection,  that  perfection  to  which  he  might  aspire  on 
earth.  Tauler  preached  his  loftiest  mysticism.  The 
stem  man  now  spoke  with  authority,  the  authority  of 
a  more  determinate  will,  and  more  firm  convictions. 
"  Thou  art  yet  in  slavery  to  the  letter ;  thou  knowest 
not  the  life-giving  spirit ;  thou  art  but  a  Pharisee ;  thou 
trustest  in  thine  own  power,  in  thine  own  learning ; 
thou  thinkest  that  thou  seekest  God's  honor,  and  seek- 
est  thine  own."  Tauler  shuddered.  "  Never  man  be- 
fore reproved  me  for  my  sins."  He  felt  the  spell  of  a 
master.  "  Twelve  y6ars,"  said  the  layman  (who  was 
rebuking  the  self-righteousness  of  Tauler  1),  "  I  have 
been  toiling  to  the  height  of  spiritual  perfection,  which 
I  have  now  attained,  by  the  study  of  German  works, 
by  self-mortification  and  chastisements  which  have  now 
ceased  to  be  necessary."  He  gave  Tauler  certain  sim- 
ple moral  rules,  counselled  him  to  preach  no  more,  to 

▼OL.  VIII.  96 


402  JATIN  CHRISTIAiriTY.  Book  XIV. 

hear  no  more  confession,  to  deny  himself,  and  to  med- 
itate on  the  life  and  death  of  Christ  till  he  had  attained 
humility  and  regeneration.^  The  stronger,  the  more 
positive  and  peremptory  mind  subdued  the  gentler. 
Tauler,  for  above  two  years,  despite  the  wonder  of  his 
friends,  the  taunts  of  his  enemies,  was  silent.  The 
first  time,  at  the  end  of  that  period,  when  he  attempted, 
A.D.  1840.  under  permission  (for  the  inflexible  layman 
watched  him  unceasingly),  he  broke  down  in  floods  of 
tears.  This  stranger  was  the  famous  Nicolas  of  Basle. 
The  secret  influence  of  these  teachers,  unsuppressed  by 
years  of  persecution,  may  appear  irom  the  work  thus 
wrought  on  the  mind  of  Tauler,  and  from  the  fact  that 
it  was  not  till  towards  the  close  of  the  century,  long 
after  Tauler's  death,  that  Nicolas  of  Basle,  venturing 
into  France,  was  seized  and  burned  as  a  heretic  at  Vi- 
enne  in  Dauphiny. 

Tauler  adhered  to  the  Church ;  many  of  the  Wat 
denses  and  others  did  so  to  escape  persecution,^  and  to 
infiise  their  own  sseal ;  Tauler,  it  seems,  in  honesty  and 
simplicity.  But  from  that  time  the  German  preaching 
of  Tauler  —  now  unmingled  with  Latin,  in  churches, 
in  private  assemblies,  in  the  houses  of  Beguines,  in 
nunneries  —  was  more  plain,  earnest,  and,  as  usnal, 
flowed  from  his  own  heart  to  the  hearts  of  others.  He 
taught  estrangement  from  the  world,  self-denial,  pov- 

1  D.  Carl  Schmidt  has  taken  the  whole  of  this  from  an  old  narratiTe  **of 
a  Teacher  of  Holy  Scripture  and  a  Laynian/*  of  which  he  does  not  doubt 
the  authenticity.  It  is  well  translated  in  Miss  Winkworth*s  Life  and  Timea 
of  Tauler.     London,  1857. 

s  "  Auf  diese  Weise  die  Waldenser  in  die  Kirche  selber  Eingang  fiuid«a 
nnd  auf  die  beriihmtesten  Doctoren  und  namlich  auf  Domtnicaner,  deren 
Beruf  es  war  die  Ketzer  zu  bek&mpfen,  so  miichtig  wirkten  '*  —  Schmidt, 
p.  37.  But  M.  Schmidts  new  authorities  show  that  Nicolas  was  not  a 
Waldensian. 


CBAP.Vn.  OPINIONS  OF  TAULEB.  408 

erty  of  spirit,  not  merely  passive  surrender  of  the  soul 
to  God,  but,  with  this,  love  also  to  the  brethren  and 
the  discharge  of  the  duties  of  life.  Men  were  to  seek 
peace,  during  these  turbulent  times,  within  their  own 
souls.  He  not  only  preached  in  German,  he  published 
in  German,  "the  following  the  lowly  life  of  Christ."^ 
The  black  plague  fell  on  the  city  of  Stras-  a.d.  184S-9. 
burg,  on  Strasburg  still  under  the  ban  of  the  Pope.  In 
Strasburg  died  16,000,  in  Basle  14,000  victims.  Amid 
these  terrible  times  of  wild  visions,  wild  processions  of 
self-scourged  penitents,  of  crowded  cloisters,  massa- 
cred Jews,  the  calm  voice  of  Tauler,  and  of  some  who 
spoke  and  wrote  in  the  spirit  of  Tauler,  rose  against 
the  unpitying  Church.  A  remonstrance  was  addressed 
to  the  Clergy,  that  the  poor,  innocent,  blameless  people 
were  left  to  die  untended,  unabsolved,  under  the  inter- 
dict, and  boldly  condemning  the  Priests  who  refused 
them  the  last  consolations  of  the  Gospel.^  "Christ 
died  for  all  men ;  the  Pope  cannot,  by  his  interdict, 
close  heaven  against  those  who  die  innocent."  In  an- 
other writing  the  abuse  of  the  spiritual  sword  was 
clearly  denounced,  the  rights  of  the  Electors  asserted. 
The  broad  maxim  was  laid  down,  that  "  he  who  con- 
fesses  the  true  faith  of  Christ,  and  sins  only  against  the 
person  of  the  Pope,  is  no  heretic."  It  is  said  that  the 
people  took  comfort,  and  died  in  peace,  though  under 
the  Papal  interdict.  It  was  for  these  unforgiven  opin- 
ions that  Tauler  and  his  friends,  Thomas  of  Strasburg, 
an  Augustinian,  and  Ludolph  of  Saxony,  first  a  Do- 
minican then  a  Carthusian,  fell  under  the  suspicion  of 
the  new  Bishop  Bertholdt  and  the  Clergy.     He  had 

1  Der  Nachfolgang  des  armen  Lebens  Christi. 
9  Schmidt,  Tauler,  p.  52. 


404  ,  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Bouk  XIV. 

been  called  to  render  an  account  of  his  faith  before 
A.1).  1848.  Charles  IV.,  "  the  Priests*  Emperor/'  when 
at  Strasburg.  The  Mystics  were  commanded  to  recant, 
and  to  withdraw  from  their  writings  these  obnoxious 
tenets. 

Tauler  disappeared  from  Strasbnrg;  he  was  now 
heard  in  Cologne;  there  he  taught  his  own  simpler 
doctrines,  and  protested  against  the  Pantheistic  tenets 
of  the  Beghards,  and  even  of  those  dreamy  fanatics  who 
would  yield  up  their  passive  souls  to  the  working  of 
Divine  grace.  He  returned  to  Strasburg  only  to  die. 
&.D.  18S1.  His  last  hours  were  passed  in  the  garden  of 
the  convent  in  which  his  only  sister  had  long  dwelt, 
a  holy  and  blameless  nun.  He  sought  her  gentle 
aid  and  consolation.  One  hard  Mystic  reproached 
his  weakness  in  yielding  to  this  last  earthly  affection. 
He  was  buried  in  the  cloisters,  amid  the  respectful 
sorrow  of  the  whole  city. 

Tauler  had  been  dead  nearly  a  century  before  the 
close  of  our  History,  but  his  Sermons  lived  in  the 
memory  of  men ;  they  were  transcribed  with  pious 
solicitude,  and  disseminated  among  all  who  sou^t 
something  beyond  what  was  taught  in  the  Church,  or 
taught  by  the  Clergy;  that  which  the  Ritual,  per* 
formed  perhaps  by  a  careless,  proud,  or  profligate 
Priest,  did  not  suggest;  which  was  not  heard  in  the 
cold  and  formal  Confessional ;  which  man  might  learn 
for  himself,  teach  to  himself,  which  brought  the  soul 
in  direct  relation  with  God,  trained  it  to  perfectioii, 
to  communion,  to  assimilation,  to  unity  with  Grod. 
Herder,  perhaps  the  wisest  of  German  critics,  con- 
demns the  Sermons  of  Tauler  for  their  monotony :  ^ 

1  The  two  latter  parts  of  Dr.  Schmidt's  Tauler  are  on  Ihe  writiogs  and 


CHAP.Vn.  BiYSTICISBC.  406 

^^  He  who  has  read  two  of  Tauler^s  Sermons  has  read 
all."^  But  perhaps  in  that  monotony  lay  mneh  of 
their  strength.  Religious  men  seek  not  variety  but 
emotion ;  it  i&  the  key*note  which  vibrates  to  the 
heart.  Tauler  had  Mysticism  enough  to  awaken 
and  keep  alive  all  the  most  passionate  sentiments  of  r^ 
ligion,  yet  with  a  seeming  clearness  and  distinctness  as 
if  addressed  to  the  reason ;  his  preaching  appeared  at 
least  to  be  intelligible ;  it  addressed  the  whole  man, 
his  imagination,  his  reason,  his  affection. 

But  Tauler's  Mysticism  was  &r  beyond  the  sublime 
selfishness  of  the  Imitation  of  Christ;  it  embraced 
fiilly,  explicitly  the  love  of  others;  it  resembled  the 
Imitation  of  a  Kempis,  in  that  it  was  absolutely  and 
entirely  personal  religion,  self-wrought  out,  self-dis- 
ciplined, self-matured,  with  nothing  necessarily  in- 
termediate between  the  grace  of  God  and  the  soul  of 
man.  The  man  might  be  perfect  in  spirit  and  in 
tfuth  within  himself,  spiritualized  only  by  the  Holy 
Ghost.  Tauler's  perfect  man  was  a  social  being,  not 
a  hermit ;  his  goodness  spread  on  earth,  it  was  not  all 
drawn  up  to  heaven.  Though  the  perfect  man  might 
not  rise  above  duties,  he  might  rise  above  observances ; 
though  never  free  from  the  law  of  love  to  his  fellow- 
creatures,  he  claimed  a  dangerous  freedom  as  regard- 
ed the  law  and  usage  of  the  Church,  and  dependence  on 
the  ministers  of  the  Church.  Those  who  were  con- 
tent with  ritual  observances,  however  obedient,  were 
still  imperfect;  outward  rites,  fastings,  were  good  as 
means,  but  the  soul  must  liberate  itself  from  all  these 

doctrines  of  Taaler,  illustrated  with  abundant  extracts.    Miss  Winkworth 
has  well  chosen,  and  rendered  well  some  of  his  best  Sermons.    1857. 
1  Theologische  Briefe  41,  quoted  by  Schmidt,  p.  84. 


406  lATDT  GHBISTIANrnr.  Book  XIT. 

ootwaid  means.  The  soul,  having  dischai^ed  all  this, 
must  still  await  in  patience  something  higher,  some- 
thing to  which  all  this  is  but  secondary,  inferior ;  hav- 
ing attained  perfection,  it  may  cast  all  these  things 
awaj  as  nnnecessary.  Tanler's  disciple  respects  the 
laws  of  the  Chnrch  because  they  are  the  laws  of  the 
Chnrch ;  he  does  not  willingly  break  them,  but  he  is 
often  accDsed  of  breaking  them  when  intent  on  higher 
objects.  But  the  whole  vital  real  work  in  man  is 
within.  Penance  is  nooght  without  contrition :  **'  Mor- 
tify not  the  poor  flesh,  but  mortify  sin.''  Man  must 
confess  to  (jod;  unless  man  forsakes  sin,  the  absoIi>- 
tion  of  Pope  and  Cardinals  is  of  no  efiect ;  the  Con- 
fessor has  no  power  over  sin.  Tauler's  religion  is  still 
more  inflexibly  personal :  ^^  His  own  works  make  not 
a  man  holy,  how  can  those  of  others  ?  Will  God  re- 
gard the  rich  man  who  buys  for  a  pitiful  sum  the  pray- 
ers of  the  poor?  Not  the  intercession  of  the  Virgin, 
nor  of  all  the  Saints,  can  profit  the  unrepentant  siiv 
ner. 

All  this,  if  not  rebellion,  was  sowing  the  seeds  of 
rebellion  against  the  sacerdotal  domination ;  if  it  was 
not  the  proclamation,  it  was  the  secret  munliur  prepar- 
atory for  the  assertion  of  Teutonic  independence. 

Tauler  lived  not  only  in  his  writings  ;  the  cherished 
treasure  of  Mysticism  was  handed  down  by  minds  of 
kindred  spirit  for  nearly  two  centuries.  When  they 
were  appealed  to  by  Luther  as  the  harbingers  of  his 
own  more  profound  and  powerful  religiousness,  the 
Friends  of  God  subsisted,  if  not  organized,  yet  main- 
taining visibly  if  not  publicly  their  succession  of  Apos- 
tolic holiness. 

Ten  years  after  the  death  of  Tauler,  Nicolas  of 


Chap.VU.  friends  of  GOD.  407 

Basle,  not  yet  having  ventured  on  his  fatal  mission 
into  France,  is  addressing  a  long  and  pious  monition  to 
the  Brethren  of  St.  John  in  Strasburg.^ 

Near  the  close  of  the  century,  Martin,  a  Monk,  was 
arraigned  at  Cologne  as  an  in&tuated  disciple  of  Nico- 
las of  Basle.^  From  this  process  it  appears  that  many 
Friends  of  God  had  been  recently  burned  at  Heidel- 
berg.®  The  heresies  with  which  Martin  is  charged  are 
obviously  misconceptions,  if  not  misrepresentations,  of 
the  doctrine  of  perfection  taught  by  Tauler  and  by 
most  of  the  German  Mystics. 

Tauler  was  thus  only  one  of  the  voices,  if  the  most 
powerful  and  influential,  which  as  it  were  appealed  di- 
rectly to  God  from  the  Pope  and  the  Hierarchy  ;  which 
asserted  a  higher  religion  than  that  of  the  Church ; 
which  made  salvation  dependent  on  personal  belief 
and  holiness,  not  on  obedience  to  the  Priest ;  which 
endeavored  to  renew  the  long-dissolved  wedlock  be- 
tween Christian  faith  and  Christian  morality;  and 
tacitly  at  least,  if  not  inferentially,  admitted  the  great 
Wycliffite  doctrine,  that  the  bad  Pope,  the  bad  Bishop, 
the  bad  Priest,  was  neither  Pope,  Bishop,  nor  Priest. 
It  was  an  appeal  to  God,  and  also  to  the  moral  sense 

1  Schmidt,  Anhang  5,  p.  233,  dated  1377. 

9  **  Qnod  qoidam  Laicus  nomine  Nicolaus  de  Basiled,  cui  te  funditns 
snbmisisti,  clarios  et  perfectius  evangeliam  quain  aliqni  Apostoli,  et  beatus 
Paulas  hoc  intellexerit  ....  quod  praedicto  Nicolao  ex  perfectione  sub- 
missionis  sibi  facta  contra  pnecepta  cujuscunque  Pralati  etiam  Papae  licite 
et  nne  peccato  obediro."  —  He  was  accused  of  having  said,  That  he  was  re- 
stored to  his  state  of  primitive  innocence,  emancipated  from  obedience  of 
the  Church,  with  full  liberty  to  preach  and  administer  the  Sacraments 
without  license  of  the  Church.  Of  course  the  charge  was  darkened  into 
the  grossest  Antinomianism. 

<  1393.  **  Quod  judicialiter  convict!  et  per  ecclesiiam  condempnati  ac 
impenitentes  heretic!  aliquando  in  Heidelberg&  concremati  fuerunt  et  sunt 
amci  Dei."''  —  Anhang  6,  p.  238. 


408  LATIN  CHKISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

of  man  ;  and  throughout  this  period  of  nearly  two  cen- 
turies which  elapsed  before  the  appearance  of  Luther, 
this  inextinguishable  torch  passed  from  hand  to  hand, 
from  generation  to  generation.  Its  inOuence  was  seen 
in  the  earnest  demand  for  Reformation  hy  the  Coun- 
cils ;  the  sullen  estrangement,  notwithstanding  the  re- 
union to  the  sacerdotal  yoke,  during  the  Hussite  wars  ; 
the  disdainful  neutrality  when  reformation  by  the  Coun- 
cils seemed  hopeless  ;  it  is  seen  in  the  remarkable  book, 
the  "  German  Theology,"  attributed  by  Luther  to  Tau- 
ler  himself,  but  doubtless  of  a  later  period  J  Ruder 
and  coarser  works,  in  all  the  jarring  and  various  dia- 
lects, betrayed  the  German  impatience,  the  honest  bqt 
homely  popular  alienation  from  ecclesiastical  dominion, 
and  darkly  foreshowed  that  when  the  irresistible  Rer- 
olution  should  come,  it  would  be  more  popular,  more 
violent,  more  irreconcilable. 

1  Two  tnmslations  have  recentlj  appeared  in  England  of  this  book,  of 
which  the  real  character  and  importance  cannot  be  appreciated  without  a 
ftill  knowledge  of  the  time  at  which  it  oiiginallj  appeared.  It  was  not  •• 
mnch  what  it  taught  aa  "  Gennan  Theology,"  but  what  it  threw  aaide,  as  b» 
part  of  genoine  Christian  Faith. 


Chap.  Till.  CHRISTIAK  ABCHITECTUBE.  409 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURK 

LiTERATURB  was  thus  bursting  loose  from  Latin 
Christianity ;  it  had  left  the  cloister  to  converse  with 
men  of  the  world ;  it  had  ceased  to  be  the  prerogative 
of  the  Hierarchy,  and  had  begun  to  expatiate  in  new 
regions.  In  Italy  erelong,  as  in  its  classical  studies,  so 
in  the  new  Platonism  of  Marsilius  Ficinus  and  the 
Florentine  school,  it  almost  threatened  to  undermine 
Christianity,  or  left  a  Christianity  which  might  almost 
have  won  the  assent  of  the  Emperor  Julian.  In  all 
the  Teutonic  races  it  had  begun  to  assert  its  ft'eedom 
from  sacerdotal  authority ;  its  poets,  even  its  preachers, 
were  all  but  in  revolt. 

But  Art  was  more  &ithful  to  her  munificent  patron, 
her  bold  and  prolific  creator,  her  devout  wor-  Anhieeetaro 
shipper.     Of  ^  all  the  arts  Architecture  was  the  chnroh. 
that  which  owed  the  most  glorious  triumphs  to  Chris- 
tianity.    Architecture  must  still  be  the  slave  of  wealth 
and  power,  for  majestic,  durable,  and  costly  buildings 
can   arise   only  at   their   command ;    and  wealth   and 
power  were  still  to  a  great  extent  in  the  hands  of  the 
Hierarchy.     The  first  sign  and  prophetic  omen  of  the 
coming   revolution  was  when  in  the  rich  commercial 
cities   the   town-halls  began  to  vie  in   splendor  with  / 
the  Churches  and  Monasteries.     Yet  nobler  gratitude, 


I 


410  UlTIN    CHSISHANITT.  Book  XIT. 

if  sach  incentive  were  possible,  might  attach  Architec- 
ture to  the  cause  of  the  Church.  Under  the  Church 
she  had  perfected  old  forms,  invented  new ;  she  had 
risen  to  an  unrivalled  majesty  of  design  and  skill  in 
construction.  In  her  stateliness,  solemnity,  richness, 
boldness,  variety,  vastness,  solidity,  she  might  compete 
with  the  whole  elder  world,  and  might  almost  defy 
future  ages. 

Latin  Christianity,  during  a  period  of  from  ten  to 
Ghorehw  twelvc  ccuturies,  had  covered  the  whole  of 
chrirtendom.  Westcm  Europc  with  its  still  multiplying 
Churches  and  religious  buildings.  From  the  Southern 
shores  of  Sicily  to  the  Hebrides  and  the  Scandinavian 
kingdoms,  from  the  doubtfiil  borders  of  Christian  Spain 
to  Hungary,  Poland,  Prussia,  not  a  city  was  withoat 
its  Cathedral,  surrounded  by  its  succursal  churches,  its 
^nasteries,  and  convents,  each  with  its  separate  church 
j  or  chapel.  There  was  not  a  town  but  above  the  lowly 
houses,  almost  entirely  off  wood,  rose  the  churches  of 
stone  or  some  other  solid  material,  in  their  superior  di^ 
nity,  strength,  dimensions,  and  height ;  not  a  village 
was  without  its  sacred  edifice  :  no  way-side  without  its 
humbler  chapel  or  oratory.  Not  a  river  but  in  its 
course  reflected  the  towers  and  pinnacles  of  many  ab- 
beys ;  not  a  forest  but  above  its  \oftj  oaks  or  pines 
appeared  the  long-ridged  roof,  or  the  countless  turrets 
of  the  conventual  church  and  buildings.  Even  now, 
after  periods  in  some  countries  of  rude  religious  fanat- 
icism, in  one,  France  (next  to  Italy,  or  equally  with 
Italy  prodigal  in  splendid  ecclesiastical  edifices),  after 
a  decade  of  wild  iireligious  iconoclasm  ;  after  the  total 
suppression  or  great  reduction,  by  the  common  consent 
of  Christendom,  of  monastic  institutions,  the  secularian 


CHAP.Vin.  CHRISTIAN  ARCHITECTURR  411 

tion  of  th^ir  wealth,  and  the  abandonment  of  their 
bnildings  to  decay  and  ruin  ;  our  awe  and  wonder  are 
still  commanded,  and  seem  as  if  they  would  be  com- 
manded for  centuries,  by  the  unshaken  solidity,  spa- 
ciousness, height,  majesty,  and  noble  harmony  of  the 
cathedrals  and  churches  throughout  Western  Europe. 
We  are  amazed  at  the  imagination  displayed  in  every 
design,  at  the  enormous  human  power  employed  in 
their  creation  ;  at  the  wealth  which  commandt^d,  the 
consummate  sciehce  which  guided  that  power ;  at  the 
profound  religious  zeal  which  devoted  that  power, 
wealth,  and  science  to  these  high  purposes. 

The  progress  and  development  of  this  Christian  Arch- 
itecture, Roman,  Byzantine,  Romanesque  or  Lombard, 
Norman,  Gothic  in  its  successive  forms,  could  not  be 
compressed  into  a  few  pages  :  the  value  of  such  survey 
must  depend  on  its  accuracy  and  truth,  its  accuracy 
and  truth  on  the  multiplicity  and  fulness  of  its  details 
ahd  on  the  fine  subtilty  of  its  distinctions,  and  might 
seem  to  demand  illustration  from  other  arts.  It  is 
hardly  less  difficult  to  express  in  a  narrow  compass  the 
religious  hierarchical,  and  other  convergent  causes 
which  led  to  the  architectural  Christianization  of  the 
West  in  its  two  great  characteristic  forms.  These 
forms  may  perhaps  be  best  described  as  Cisalpine  (Ital- 
ian) and  Transalpine  (Gothic),  though  neither  of  them 
respected  the  boundary  of  the  other,  and  the  Teutonic 
Gothic  in  the  North  arose  out  of  the  Southern  Roman- 
esque. 

Our  former  history  has  surveyed  Christian  Archi- 
tecture in  its  origin ;  it  has  traced  the  primitive  form 
of  the  churches  in  the  East ;  ^  so  far  as  they  differed 

1  History  of  Chriatianity,  vol.  ii.  p.  298.    Church  of  Tyre,  described  by 
Eoflebiiu. 


412  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

in  their  distribution  from  the  Western,  resembling  the 
Pagan  rather  than  the  Jewish  temple,  yet  of  necessity 
assuming  their  own  peculiar  and  distinct  character.  It 
has  seen  in  the  West  the  Basilica,  the  great  hall  of 
imperial  justice,  offering  its  more  commodious  plan  and 
arrangements,  and  becoming  with  far  less  alteration  a 
Christian  edifice  for  public  worship  and  instruction.^ 
This  first  epoch  of  Christian  Architecture  extended, 
even  after  the  conversion  of  Constantine  and  the  build- 
ing of  Constantinople,  to  the  reign  of  Justinian,  un- 
der whom  Byzantine  Architecture,  properly  so  distin* 
guished,  drew  what  may  be  called  the  architectural 
division  between  the  East  and  the  West*  Even  in 
Architecture  the  Greek  and  Latin  Churches  were  to 
be  oppugnant ;  though  the  Byzantine,  as  will  appear, 
made  a  strong  effort,  and  not  without  partial  success, 
to  subjugate  the  West. 

To  Rome,  not  to  Greece,  Christian  Architecture 
jig^a^^  owed  its  great  elementary  principle,  the  key- 
wehitcetiira.  g^Q^e,  as  it  werc,  to  all  its  greatness;  and  this 
principle  was  carried  out  with  infinitely  greater  bold- 
ness and  fulness  in  the  West  than  in  the  East.  And 
surely  it  is  no  fanciful  analogy  .that,  as  the  Roman 
character  contributed  so  powerfully  to  the  great  hierar- 
chical system  of  the  West,  so  the  Roman  form  of  build- 
ing influenced  most  extensively  Christian  Architecture, 
temporarily  and  imperfectly  that  of  the  East,  in  per- 
petuity that  of  the  Latin  world.  After  a  few  centu- 
ries the  more  dominant  hierarchism  of  the  West  is 
manifest  in  the  oppugnancy  between  Greek  and  Latin 
Church  Architecture.  The  East  having  once  wrought 
out  its  aivhitectural  type  and  model  settled  down  in 

2  Vol.  ii.  pp.  411,  416,  and  vol.  iii.  p.  4S8. 


CHAP.Vra.  ROMAN  ARCHITECTURE.  418 

onprogressive,  tmcreative  acquiescence,  and  went  on 
copying  that  type  with  servile  and  almost  undeviating 
uniformity.  In  the  West,  within  certain  limits,  with 
certain  principles,  and  with  a  fixed  aim,  there  was  free- 
dom, progression,  invention.  There  was  a  stately  uni- 
ty, unity  which  seemed  to  imply  immemorial  antiquity, 
and  to  aspire  to  be  an  unalterable  irre])ealable  law  for 
perpetuity,  in  the  form  and  distribution,  in  the  propor- 
tions and  harmony  of  the  sacred  buildings  ;  but  in  the 
details,  in  the  height,  the  dimensions,  the  character,  the 
ornaments,  the  mechanical  means  of  support,  infinite 
inexhaustible  variety ;  it  ranged  from  the  most  bare 
and  naked  Romanesque  up  to  the  most  gorgeous 
Gothic.^ 

Latin  Christianity  by  its  centralization,  its  organiza- 
tion arising  out  of  Roman  respect  for  law  and  usage, 
its  rigid  subordination,  its  assertion  of  and  its  submis- 
sion to  authority,  with  a  certain  secondary  freedom  of 
action,  had  constituted  its  vast  ecclesiastical  polity ;  so 
one  great  architectural  principle  carried  out  in  infinite 
variety  and  boundless  extent,  yet  in  mutual  support 


^  Compare  Hope  on  Architecture,  p.  59.  All  that  has  been  discovered  of 
the  knowledge  and  me  of  the  Arch  in  Egypt  and  in  other  countries^  tends 
to  the  same  resalt  as  that  to  which  Mr.  Hope  arrived :  "  The  Arch  which 
tiie  Greeks  knew  not,  or  if  they  knew,  did  not  employ."  So  with  other 
nations.  It  was  first  among  the  Romans  an  elementary  and  universal  prin- 
ciple of  construction.  It  is  impossible  not  to  refer  with  respect  to  the  first 
modem  philosophical  and  comprehensive  work  on  Architecture,  that  by  the 
author  of  Anastasius.  Some  corrections,  manifold  details,  much  scientific 
knowledge,  have  been  added  by  the  countless  writers  on  Christian  Archi- 
tecture, of  which  England  has  famished  her  full  share,  —  Whewell.  Willis, 
Petit,  the  Author  of  the  Glossary  of  Architecture,  the  late  Mr.  Gaily 
Kni^t  But  who  of  all  these  will  not  own  his  obligations  to  Mr.  Hope? 
The  recollection  of  much  friendly  kindness  in  my  youth  enhances  the 
|deasnre  with  which  I  pay  this  tribute  to  a  man  of  real  and  original 
geuns. 


»» 


' 


414  LATIN  CHFOSTIANITY.  Book  XIV* 

a,nd  mutual  dependence,  that  of  the  Arch  (if  not  abso- 
l  lutelj  unknown,  of  rare   and  exceptional  application 
'  among  the  Greeks),  had  given  soHdity  and  stability  to 
tfie  gigantic  structures  of  Rome,  which  spread  out  and 
0oared  above  each  other  in  ambitious  unending  rivalir* 
/Hence  the  power  of  multiplying  harmonious  parts,  of 
/  enclosing  space  to  almost  infinite  dimensions,  of  sup- 
f    porting  almost  in  the  air  the  most  ponderous  roo&,  of 
making  a  vast  complicated  whole,  one  in  design,  one  in 
structure,  one  in  effect.     The  Greek  temples  and  the 
Roman  temples  on  the  Greek  model,  limited  in  size  and 
extent  by  the  necessity  of  finding  support  for  horizontal 
pressure,  were  usually  isolated  edifices,  each  in  its  ex- 
quisite harmony  and  perfection,  complete,  independent, 
simple.     If  they  were  sometimes  crowded  together,  as 
in  the  Acropolis  of  Athens,  or  the  Forum  at  Rome,  yet 
each  stood  by  itself  in  its  narrow  precincts ;  it  was  a 
separate  republic,  as  it  were  the  domain  and  dwelling 
of  ite  own  God,  the  hall  of  its  own  priesthood. 

But  through  that  single  principle  of  the  Arch  the 
Roman  had  attained  a  grandeur  and  vastness  of  con- 
struction as  yet  unknown.  It  was  not  like  the  colos- 
sal fsLixes  of  Egypt,  either  rocks  hewn  into  temples,  or 
rocks  transported  and  piled  up  into  temples ;  or  the 
fabrics  supported  on  the  immense  monolithic  pillars  in 
the  Eastern  cities  (which  the  Romans  themselves  in 
the  time  of  the  Antonines  and  their  successors  rivalled 
at  Baalbec  and  Palmyra)  ;  nor  yet  the  huge  terraced 
masses  of  brickwork  in  the  &rther  East.  The  tran- 
scendent and  peculiar  Architecture  of  the  Romans  was 
seen  in  their  still  more  vast  theatres  and  amphitheatres, 
which  could  contain  thousands  and  thousands  of  spec- 
tators ;  in  their  Caesarean  palaces,  which  were  almost 


OKAr.yin.  THE  BASILICA.  415 

cities  ;  in  their  baths,  in  which  the  population  of  con- 
sderable  towns,  or  whole  quarters  of  Rome,  found 
space  not  for  bathing  only,  but  for  every  kind  of  recre- 
ation and  amusement ;  in  their  bridges,  which  spanned 
the  broadest  and  most  turbulent  rivers;  and  their  aque- 
ducts, stretching  out  miles  after  miles,  and  conveying 
plentiful  water  to  the  central  city.  It  remained  only 
to  apply  this  simple,  universal  principle.  By  resting 
not  the  horizontal  entablature,  but  the  succession  of 
arches  on  the  capitals  of  the  pillars,  the  length  might 
be  infinitely  drawn  out ;  the  roof,  instead  of  being  lim- 
ited in  its  extent  by  the  length  of  the  rafters,  might  be 
vaulted  over  and  so  increased  enormously  in  width ; 
and  finally,  suspended  as  it  were  in  the  air,  soar  to  any 
height. 

Christian  Architecture,  when  the  world  under  Con- 
stantino became  Christian,  would  of  course  coMtantine 
begin  to  display  itself  more  boldly,  more  os-  "*®  ®"**' 
tentatiously.  It  would  aspire  to  vie  with  the  old  relig- 
ion in  the  majesty  of  its  temples.  Not  but  that  long 
before  it  had  its  public  sacred  edifices  in  the  East  and 
the  West.  Still  it  would  be  some  time  before  it  would 
confront  Paganism,  the  Paganism  of  centuries.  It  must 
still  in  vastness  and  outward  grandeur  submit  to  the 
supremacy  of  the  ancestral  temples  of  the  city.  The 
Basilica,  too,  in  its  ordinary  form,  though  in  its  length, 
height,  and  proportions  there  might  be  a  severe  and 
serious  grandeur,  was  plain.  A  high  unadorned  wall 
formed  its  sides,  its  front  was  unbroken  but  by  the  por- 
tals :  it  had  not  its  splendid  rows  of  external  columns, 
with  their  interchanging  light  and  shade ;  nor  the  rich 
and  sculptured  pediment  over  its  entrance.  Constan- 
tine,  before  his  departure  to  the  East,  erected  more 


416  LATIN  CHRISXIAKITT.  Book  XIV. 

than  one  clmrch,  no  doubt  worthy  of  an  imperial 
proselyte,  for  the  new  religion  of  the  empire.  But 
earthquakes,  conflagrations,  wars,  tumults,  the  prodigal 
reverence  of  some  Popes,  the  vast  ambition  of  others, 
have  left  not  a  vestige  of  the  Constantinian  buildings 
in  Rome.  The  Church  of  the  Lateran,  thrown  down 
by  an  earthquake,  was  rebuilt  by  Sergius  III.  That 
built  in  honor  of  St.  Peter  ^  (it  was  asserted  and  be- 
lieved over  the  place  of  his  mart^nrdom),  with  its  splen- 
did fore-court  and  its  five  aisles,  which  to  the  time  of 
Charlemagne,  though  the  prodigal  piety  of  some  Popes 
had  no  doubt  violated  its  original,  it  should  seem,  al- 
most cruciform,  outline,  and  sheathed  its  walls  in  gold 
and  precious  marbles ;  yet  maintained  the  plan  and  dis- 
tribution of  the  old  church.  It  stood,  notwithstanding 
the  ravages  of  the  Saracens,  the  si^es  of  the  Emper- 
ors, the  seditions  of  the  people,  on  its  primitive  Con- 
stantinian site  for  many  hundred  years  after,  and  was 
only  swept  away  by  the  irreverent  haughtiness  of  Ju- 
lius II.,  to  make  way  for  what  was  expected  to,  and 
which  does,  command  the  universal  wonder  of  man- 
kind, the  St.  Peter^s  of  Bramante  and  Michael  Angelo. 
The  noble  church  of  St.  Paul,  without  the  walls,  built 
by  Theodosius  the  Great,  stood  as  it  were  the  one  ma- 
jestic representative  of  the  Imperial  Christian  Basilica 
till  our  own  days.'  The  ground-plan  of  the  Basilica 
must  be  sought  in  the  humbler  Church  of  St.  Cle- 
mente,^  which   alone   retains  it  in  its  integrity :   St 

^  On  the  old  St.  Peter* s,  see  the  curious  work  of  Boiumni,  Historia  Tem- 
pli  Vatican!  (Roma,  1706),  and  the  elaborate  chapter  in  Bonsen  and  Plat- 
ner,  Rdm*s  Beschreibnng. 

<  The  author  saw  this  stately  and  venerable  building  in  the  nnnmer  of 
1822:  it  was  bnmed  down  in  the  autumn  of  that  year. 

*  See  the  St.  Clemente  in  Mr.  Gaily  Kaight's  tplendid  and  monil 


Chap.  VIIL  CONSTANTINOPLE.  417 

Maria  Maggiore,  St.  Lorenzo,  and  one  or  two  others, 
have  been  so  overlaid  with  alterations  as  only  to  reveal 
to  the  most  patient  study  distinct  signs  of  their  original 
structure. 

Constantinople  rose  a  Christian  city,  but  a  Christian 
city  probably  in  most  parts  built  by  Roman  hands,  or 
by  Greeks  with  ftiU  command  of  Roman  skill  and  sci- 
ence, and  studiously  aspired  to  be  an  eastern  Rome. 
As  her  Senators,  her  Patricians,  so  probably  many 
of  her  architects  and  artists  came  from  Rome ;  or  if 
Greeks,  were  instructed  and  willing  to  conform  to  Ro- 
man habits  and  usage.  The  courtiers  of  Constanti- 
nople, who  migrated  from  the  old  to  the  new  Rome, 
¥^re  surprised,  it  is  said,  to  find  palaces  so  closely  re- 
sembling their  own,  that  they  hardly  believed  them- 
selves to  have  been  transported  from  the  banks  of  the 
Tiber  to  the  shores  of  the  Bosphorus.  Constantine 
himself  was  a  Western  by  birth  and  education  ;  Rome 
therefore  rather  than  the  East  would  furnish  the  first 
model  for  the  Christian  Churches.  In  old  Byzantium 
there  were  probably  few  temples  of  such  magnificence 
as  to  tempt  the  Christians  to  usurp  them  for  their  own 
uses,  or  allure  them  to  the  imitation  of  their  forms. 
Nor  did  such  temples,  dilapidated  and  deserted,  as  in 
later  times  in  Rome  and  Italy,  furnish  inexhaustible 
quarries  from  which  triumphant  Christianity  might 
seize  and  carry  ofi^  her  legitimate  spoils.  There  were 
not  at  hand  rows  of  noble  pillars,  already  hewn,  fiuted 
or  polished,  with  their  bases  and  capitals,  which,  accus- 
tomed to  form  the  porch,  or  to  flank  the  heathen  tem- 
ple, now  took  their  stand  along  the  nave  of  the  church, 

work;  which  has  the  rare  excellence,  that  the  beauty  of  the  engnvinga 
does  not  interfere  with  their  scrupnlous  accuracy. 

voIn  viii.  27 


418  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV 

or  before  the  majestic  vestibule.  Though  Ckmstantine 
largely  plundered  other  w<Nrks  o^  art,  statues  of  bronae 
or  marble  (somewhat  incongruous  heathen  ornaments 
of  a  Christian  city),  yet  he  can  have  had  no  great 
quantity  of  materials  from  old  temples,  unless  at  much 
cost  of  freight  from  more  remote  cities^  to  work  up  in 
his  churches.^  On  the  other  hand  neither  were  there 
many,  if  there  was  a  single  Basilica,  such  as  were 
found  in  most  Italian  cities,  re&dy  to  undergo  the  slight 
necessary  transmutation.  Yet  there  can  be  no  doubt 
that  the  first  churches  in  Constantinople  were  in  the 
Basilican  form  ;  that  St.  Sophia  was  of  an  oblong 
shape  there  is  satisfiictory  authority;  it  was  not  tiU 
the  reign  of  Constantius  that  the  area  was  enlarged 
to  a  square.' 

This,  then,  which  may  be  called  the  Roman  or  Basil- 
ican, may  be  considered  as  the  first  Age  of  Christiaii 
Architecture. 

II.  Of  true  Byzantine  Architecture  Justinian  iras 
the  parent.  Time,  earthquakes,  seditions  nowhere  so 
fiirious  and  destructive  as  in  Constantinople,  especially 
the  famou:^  one  in  the  reign  of  Justinian  ;  more  ainl»» 
tions  or  more  prodigal  Emperors,  or  more  devout  and 
wealthy  Christians,  denied  duration  to  the  primitiTe 

1  See  Hist,  of  Christianity,  ii.  p.  409. 

2  It  was  of  great  length,  dpofUKOC  the  form  of  a  DronoK,  or  CiRts  Hr 
raceK.  See  Ducange,  Descriptio  S.  Sophin ;  and  also  oa  the  eolaigemeot 
by  Constantius.  The  Church  in  the  Blacbeme,  built  so  late  as  Justin,  had 
straight  rows  of  pillars  and  a  timber  roof.  The  Church  of  S.  .John  Studiin, 
still  existing,  is  of  the  basiliean  form  ef  that  period.  —  SchnaaM,  GescU* 
chte  der  Biklenden  Konst,  iiL  |i.  123,  note.  On  the  other  hand  the  Churdi 
of  Antioch,  described  by  Kusebius  and  by  Theophilus,  was  an  octagon,  as 
was  that  of  Nazianzum. — Scfanaase,  p.  194.  The  round  form,  not  ii»> 
known  in  the  East,  nor  in  the  West,  as  that  of  St.  Constanza  near  Borne, 
was  more  used  for  Baptisteries,  and  for  raonnmental  chapels,  as  the  tomb  of 
Galla  Placidia  at  Ravenna. 


Chap.  VIH.  ST.  SOPHIA.  419 

Charches  of  Constantinople.  The  edifices  of  Constan- 
tine,  in  all  likelihood  hastily  run  up,  and,  if  splendid, 
wanting  in  strength  and  solidity,  gave  place  to  more 
stately  and  enduring  churches.  The  St.  Sophia  of 
ConstantUie  was  razed  to  the  ground  in  a  fierce  tu* 
mult;  but  on  its  site  arose  the  new  St.  Sophia,  in 
the  East  the  pride,  in  the  West  the  wonder,  of  the 
world.'  The  sublime  unity  and  harmony  of  the  de- 
sign, above  all  the  lightness  and  vastness  of  the  cupola, 
were  too  marvellous  for  mere  human  science*  Even 
the  skill  of  the  fiimous  architects  Anthimus  o£  Tralles 
and  Isidore  of  Miletus  were  unequal  to  the  conception* 
An  angel  revealed  to  the  Emperor  (Justinian  himself 
must  share  in  the  gloiy)  many  of  the  forms  of  th« 
bnilding ;  the  great  principle  of  the  construction  of  the 
eupola,  sovght  in  vain  by  the  science  of  the  architects, 
flashed  across  the  mind  of  the  Emperor  himself  in  a 
dream^  The  cupola  did  not  seem,  according  to  the 
historian  Procopius,  to  rest  on  its  supports,  but  to  be 
let  down  by  a  golden  chain  from  heaven.^  Santa 
Sophia  was  proclaimed  in  the  West  as  the  most  con* 
sommate  work  of  Christian  Architecture.^ 


1  To  the  poem  of  Paulas  Sllentiarius,  on  the  building  and  dedication  of 
St.  Sophia  (Edition  Bonn),  are  appended  the  laborious  diasertation  of  Du- 
cange,  and  the  perspicuous  illustrative  essay  of  Bonduri.  They  oontaa 
everything  relating  to  the  structure. 

*  TovTov  de  Tov  KVKXorepovc  vctmuyt'^Q  knavaaniKvia  rug  aip<upoetd^ 
^6Xo(  noteiTcu,  abrd  6uu^p6vT(JC  evitpooumav  *  6oKd  d^  ovk  km  areppdf  r^ 
otKoSofiiag  6ia  rd  irapeifiivov  r^  olicodofuac  karavai^  dX^  r^  aeipy  ry  XP*^ 
in^  rov  cvpavoS  k^mtevri  Ka^amreiv  rdv  it^P^*  —  Procop.  de  ^dif.  i.  pw 
177,  Edit  Bonn. 

*  **  Cojus  opus  adeo  cuncta  »dificia  ekoelltt  ut  in  totis  terrarum  spabii 
baic  simile  non  possit  inTeniri."  — Paul  WamefHd.  St.  Sophia  and  some 
oCber  Constantinopolitaa  dmrches  have  become  better  known  during  tba 
last  year  (1854)  fVom  the  i^plendid  work  published  by  M.  8al»enberg,  at  the 
expend  of  the  King  of  Prussia.    An  Itidian  architect,  M.  Foesato,  having 


420  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

But  Justinian  was  not  content  to  be  the  founder  and 
lawgiver  of  Christian  art ;  as  in  empire,  so  he  aspired 
in  all  things,  to  bring  the  whole  Roman  world  under 
his  dominion.  To  conquered  Italy  he  brought  back 
the  vast  code  of  the  Civil  Law,  which  he  had  organ- 
ized and  adapted  to  Christian  use ;  to  Italy  came  also 
his  architecture,  an  immense  amplification  of  the  Ro- 
man arch,  which  was  to  be,  if  not  the  law,  the  perfect 
form  of  the  Christian  Church.  San  Vitale  arose  io 
Ravenna,  the  Constantinople  of  the  West.  In  dimen- 
sions only  and  in  the  gorgeousness  of  some  of  its  mate- 
rials, San  Vitale  must  bow  before  its  Byzantine  type 
Santa  Sophia,  but  it  closely  resembled  it  in  plan  and 
arrangement.  The  Mosaics  of  the  Emperor  and  of 
the  Empress  Theodora  in  the  choir  might  seem  as 
though  they  would  commend  San  Vitale  as  the  per- 
fect design  for  a  Christian  Church  to  subject  Italy 
and  to  the  West.  Rome  indeed  might  seem,  even 
in  Ravenna,  to  offer  a  more  gallant  resbtance  to  the 
arts  than  to  the  arms  of  Justinian.  To  San  Vitale 
she  would  oppose  the  noble  St.  Apollinaris,  in  her  own 
basilican  form.  Of  the  ancient  basilicas,  since  the 
destruction  of  St.  Paul  without  the  walls  at  Rome, 
St.  Apollinaris  at  Ravenna,  with  its  twenty-four  col- 
umns of  rich  Greek  marble  from  Constantinople,  and 
its  superb  mosaics,  is  undoubtedly  the  most  impres- 
sive and  august  in  the  world.* 

Thus,  then,  there  were  two  forms  which  contested 
for  the  supremacy  in  Italy.     One  was  the  old  Roman 

been  intrusted  with  the  re{>ain,  the  whole  stracture  has  been  sorvejedf 
mea«uredf  and  drawn.  Many  mosaics  covered  up  since  the  tnuismntatMNi 
into  a  mosque  have  for  a  time  revealed  again  in  all  their  brilliancy 
very  remarkable  specimens  of  Byzantine  mosaic  art. 
^  See  this  church  in  Gaily  Knight. 


CHAP.Vm.  BYZANTINE  STYLE.  421 

Basflica,  with  its  stately  length,  which  by  slow  and 
imperceptible  degrees  became  cruciform  by  the  exten- 
sion into  transepts  of  the  space  between  the  end  of 
the  nave  (where  rose  a  great  arch,  called  the  Arch 
of  Triumph,  as  opening  upon  the  holy  mysteries  of 
the  faith),  and  the  conch  or  apse,  before  which  stood 
the  high  altar.  The  other  was  square  or  octagon, 
which  in  the  same  manner  and  l^  the  same  slow  pro- 
cess broke  into  the  short  equal-limbed  Greek  cross.^ 
This  latter  form,  with  the  cupola,  was  the  vital  dis- 
tinction of  the  Byzantine  style.2  Rome  remained 
faithful  to  her  ancient  basilican  form ;  but  in  many 
of  ^the  cities  of  Northern  Italy  the  more  equal  propor- 
tion of  the  length  and  width,  with  the  central  cupola, 
sometimes  multiplied  on  the  extended  limbs  of  the 
transept ;  these,  the  only  creations  of  Byzantine  ar- 
chitecture, found  favor.  Venice  early  took  her  east- 
em  character ;  the  old  church  of  St.  Fosca  in  Torcello, 
in  later  times  St.  Mark's  maintained  the  Byzantine 
form.*  St.  Mark's,  with  her  Greek  plan,  her  domes, 
her  mosaics,  might  seem  as  if  she  had  prophetically 
prepared  a  fit  and  congenial  place  for  the  reception  of 
the  spoils  of  the  Constantinopolitan  Churches  after  the 
Latin  conquest.  But  many  other  of  the  Lombard 
Churches,  in  Pavia,  Parma,  the  old  cathedral  at  Bres- 

1  It  is  not  known  when  the  form  of  the  Cross  began.  Mr.  Gaily  Knight 
observes  that  the  form  of  the  Cross  was  for  many  centuries  the  exception 
rather  than  the  rule. 

3  Procopius  states  of  St  Sophia,  e^pog  dk  ain^  Kot  fi^Kog  cXnug  kv  hnnj- 
6ei(f)  kniTeropvevercUf  dare  Kcd  irepifj^icrfc,  Koi  dAo^f  eipela  oi}K  imb  rponoo 
eifufaeraif  p.  174.  —  So  too  that  of  St.  Mary  and  St.  Michael,  c.  iii.  p.  174.  St 
Anthimus,  c.  vi.  p.  194.  That  of  the  Apostles  was  a  Greek  Cross,  c.  iii. 
p.  188. 

'  The  round  churches,  which  were  few,  gave  place  to  Baptisteries,  for 
which  or  for  sepulchral  chapels  they  were  mostly  originally  designed. 


422  LAHN   CHBISTIAKITT.  Kook  XIT. 

cia,  were  square,  octagon,  or  in  the  form  of  the  Greek 
cross.  As  late  as  the  tenth  century  Ancona,  still  a 
Greek  city,  raised  the  Chorch  of  St.  Cyriac,  with 
mach  of  what  is  called  Lombard,  more  properly  Ro* 
manesque  ornament,  but  in  form  a  strictly  Byzantine 
Church.^ 

Yet  on  the  whole  the  architectural,  as  the  civil  con* 
siAranM  of  qnests  of  J.Qstinian,  were  bat  partial  and  un- 
ttuMTfiecs.  enduring.  The  Latin  Architecture,  with 
these  exceptions,  even  in  Italy,  adhered  to  the  basili- 
tan  form  or  to  the  longer  Latin  cross :  beyond  the 
Alps  the  square  form  was  even  more  rare.  But  it  is 
singular  to  observe  in  both  the  development  of  tbe 
hierarchical  principle  according  to  the  character  and 
circumstances  of  the  Eastern  and  the  Western  Church. 
As  the  worship  throughout  Christendom  became  more 
local,  more  material,  the  altar  was  now  the  Holy  of 
Holies,  the  actual  abode  of  the  Real  Presence  of 
Christ*  The  Clergy  withdrew  more  entirely  into  their 
unapproachable  sanctity  ;  they  would  shrond  thenn 
selves  from  all  profane  approximation  by  solemn  mys- 
tery, the  mystery  which  arises  from  remoteness,  from 
obscurity  or  dimness,  or  even  from  secrecy.  For  this 
tod,  to  heighten  the  awe  which  he  would  throw  around 
the  tremendous  sacrifice,  and  around  himself  the  hal- 
lowed minister  of  that  sacrifice,  the  Greek,  in  himself 
less  awful,  had  recourse  to  artificial  means.  The  Latin 
trusted  to  his  own  inherent  dignity,  aided  only  by  more 
profound  distance,  by  the  splendor  which  environed 

1  It  i«  carious  thut  Charlem«gne*§  caChedml  at  Aiz-la-^hApelle  is  the 
one  true  Bysantine  church  or  typ%  of  a  Bjxantine  chureh  beyood  the 
Alps  —  in  form,  construction,  even  in  mosaics.  Charlemagne  h«d  periuipa 
Greek  architects,  he  had  seen  Rarenna,  he  drew  ornaments  and  materiiUa 
from  Barenna.    Compare  Schnaase,  vol.  xir,  4SS  tt  seq. 


Chap.  YUI.  GREEK  AND  LATIN  CROSS.  423 

him,  splt»]dor  more  effective  as  heightened  by  sur- 
rounding darkness.  The  shorter  Greek  cross  did  notV 
repel  the  adoring  worshipper  far  enough  off;  tlie  Greek 
therefore  drew  a  veil.  At  length  he  raised  a  kind  of 
wall  between  himself  and  tlie  worshippers,  and  behind, 
in  that  enclosed  sanctuary,  he  performed  the  mys- 
tery of  consecration,  and  came  forth  and  showed  him- 
self in  turn  at  each  of  the  side-doors  of  the  Holy  of 
Holies,  rarely  at  the  central  or  royal  gate,  with  the 
precious  paten  and  chalice  in  his  hands.  When  the 
service  was  over,  he  withdrew  again  with  his  awful 
treasure  into  its  secret  sanctuary,^  In  the  longer 
Latin  cross  the  hierarchy  might  recede  to  a  command- 
ing distance  from  the  great  mass  of  worshippers,  yet 
all  might  remain  open  ;  the  light  rails  of  the  chancel 
were  suiScient,  with  their  own  inherent  majesty,  to 
keep  the  pro&ne  on  their  lower  level,  and  in  their 
humble  posture  of  far-off  adoration.  In  the  West  the 
crypt  under  the  altar,  to  contain  the  bones  of  the  saint 
or  martyr,  was  more  general ;  the  altar  therefore  was 
more  usually  approached  by  a  flight  of  steps,  and  thua 
elevation  was  added  to  distance :  and  to  distance  and 
elevation  were  added  by  degrees  the  more  dazzling 
splendor  of  the  altar-furniture,  the  crosses,  the  can- 
dlesticks, the  plate,  the  censers,  and  all  the  other  gor- 
geous vessels,  their  own  dresses,  the  violet,  green, 
scarlet,  cloth  of  gold,  the  blaze  of  lamps  and  tapers,  the 
clouds  of  incense.  At  one  time  the  altar  and  the  offi- 
ciating clergy  were  wrapped  in  the  mystery  of  sub- 
lime gloom,  at  the  next  the  whole  altar,  and  all  un- 

1  Smith's  account  of  the  Greek  Church,  p.  64.  This,  called  the  Iconos- 
ftasis,  is.  general  in  the  Russian  churches.  There  is  a  curious  ei^ample  «t 
Pcsth  in  Hungary. 


424  LATIN  CHRISTIANnT.  BckmlXIV. 

der  the  stately  Baldachin,  btii^t  out  into  a  concentred 
^brilliancy  of  light.  The  greater  length  of  the  build- 
ing, with  its  succnrsal  aisles  and  ambulatories  and 
chapels,  as  so  admirably  adapted  for  processional  ser- 
vices, wonld  greatly  promote  their  introduction  and 
use.  The  Clergy  would  no  longer  be  content  with 
dim  and  distant  awe  and  veneration ;  this  was  now 
inherent  in  their  persons:  and  so,  environed  with 
their  sacred  symbols,  bearing  their  banners  embla- 
zoned with  the  image  of  the  crucified  Redeemer,  of 
the  Virgin,  of  the  Saints,  and  the  crosses,  the  emblems 
of  their  own  authority  and  power,  and  in  their  snow- 
white  or  gorgeous  dresses,  they  would  pass  through 
the  rows  of  wondering  and  kneeling  worshippers,  vrith 
*  their  grave  and  solenm  chant,  or  amid  the  peals  of 
the  thundering  organ,  bringing  home,  as  it  were,  to 
the  hearts  of  all,  the  most  serious  religious  impres- 
sions, as  well  as  those  of  their  own  peculiar  inalienable 
sanctity. 

But  the  oppugnancy  was  not  only  in  the  internal  form 
and  arrangements  of  the  sacred  buildings  or  the  more 
effective  display  of  ecclesiastic  magnificence.  In  splen- 
dor of  dress,  in  the  richness  of  their  church  furniture 
and  vessels,  in  the  mysterious  symbolism  of  their  ser- 
vices, the  East  boasted  itself  even  superior  to  the  WesL 
But  the  more  vigorously  developed  hierarchical  spirit 
among  the  Latins  displayed  itself  in  nothing  more  than 
in  its  creativeness,  in  its  progressive  advancement  in 
Christian  Architecture.  The  Emperors  were  in  gen- 
eral the  founders  and  builders  of  the  great  Eastern 
Churches,  in  the  West  to  a  vast  extent  the  Church 
herself.  Though  kings  and  nobles  were  by  no  means 
wanting  in  these  signs  of  prodigal  piety  —  the  Catholic 


Chap.VIIL  wealth  OF  THE  CLERGY.  425 

Lombard  kings,  the  priest-ruled  Merovingians,  Charle- 
magne and  his  descendants,  the  sovereigns  in  Eng- 
land —  there  were  also,  besides  these  royal  and  noble 
devotees,  the  magnificent  Prelates,  the  splendid  Abbots, 
the  opulent  Chapters.  In  the  East  it  was  the  State 
acting  it  might  be  under  the  influence,  in  obedience  to, 
or  at  the  suggestion  of  the  Priesthood ;  in  the  West 
with  the  Monarch  and  the  Baron,  it  was  the  whole  ec- 
clesiastical Order  out  of  its  own  enormous  health  of 
wealth,  its  own  vast  possessions,  and  still  ac-  ***•  ***'*'' 
cumulating  property.  From  the  seventh  at  least  to  the 
close  of  the  fourteenth  century  this  wealth  was  steadily 
on  the  increase,  at  times  pouring  in  like  a  flood ;  if 
draining  ofi^,  draining  but  in  narrow  and  secret  chan- 
nels. It  was  in  the  nature  of  things  that  a  large  por- 
tion of  this  wealth  should  be  consecrated,  above  all 
others,  to  this  special  use.  It  had  long  been  admitted 
that  a  fifth,  a  fourth,  a  third  of  the  ecclesiastical  en- 
dowments belonged  to  the  sustentation^  to  the  embel- 
lishment of  the  religious  fabrics.  But  it  needed  no  law 
to  enforce  on  a  wide  scale  this  expenditure  demanded 
at  once  by  every  holy  and  generous  principle,  by  every 
ambitious  among  the  more  far-sighted  and  politic,  as 
well  as  by  every  more  sordid,  motive.  Throughout 
Christendom  there  was  the  high  and  pure,  as  well  as 
the  timid  and  superstitious  religion,  which  invited,  en- 
couraged, commanded,  exacted,  promised  to  reward  in 
this  world  and  in  the  next,  these  noble  works  of  piety. 
Without  as  within  the  Church  these  motives  were  in 
perpetual,  unslumbering  activity.  Church-building  was, 
as  it  were,  the  visible  personal  sacrifice  to  God,  a  sacrifice 
which  could  never  be  fully  accomplished ;  it  was  the 
grateful  or  expiatory  oblation  to  the  Redeemer  and  to 


426  LATIK  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

the  Saints.  The  dying  king,  the  dying  noble,  the 
dying  rich  man,  or  the  king,  noble,  or  rich  man,  undw 
strong  remorse  during  his  lifetime,  might  with  more 
lofty  and  disinterested  urgency  be  pressed  by  the  priest 
or  the  confessor  to  make  the  bequest  or  the  gift  to 
a  holy  work  in  which  the  clergy  had  no  direct  advan- 
tage, and  which  was  in  some  sort  a  splendid  public 
benefaction.  The  Church  was  built  for  the  poor,  for 
the  people,  for  posterity.  What  the  splendor  of  the 
old  Asiatic  monarchs  had  done  for  the  perpetuation 
of  their  own  luxury  and  glory,  the  Egyptians  for  their 
burying-places,  as  well  as  in  honor  of  their  gods; 
what  the  narrower  patriotism  of  the  Greeks  for  the 
embellishment  of  their  own  cities^  for  the  comfort  and 
enjoyment  of  the  citizens:  what  the  stem  pride  of 
the  older,  the  enormous  wealth  and  ostentation  of 
the  later  republicans  at  Rome ;  what  the  Pagan  j^m- 
perors  had  done,  the  elder  Caesars  to  command  the 
wonder,  gratitude,  adulation  of  the  mistress  of  the 
world ;  Trajan,  Hadrian,  the  Antonines,  from  policy, 
vanity,  beneficence,  on  a  wider  and  more  cosmopolitan 
scale  throughout  the  Empire  :  what  had  been  thus  done 
in  many  various  ways,  was  now  done  by  most  kings 
and  most  rich  men  in  one  way  alone.^  Besides  temples 
the  heathen  Caesars  had  raised  palaces,  theatres,  am« 
phitheatres,  circuses,  baths,  roads,  bridges,  aqueducts, 
senate-houses,  porticos,  libraries,  cemeteries.  Now 
the  only  public  buildings,  unless  here  and  there  a 
bridge  (until  the    burghers  in    the  conunercial  cities 

I  Let  it  be  remembered  that  in  Paris,  in  the  time  of  Philip  the  Fair,  the 
house  of  the  Templars  was  stronger  if  not  more  ma^niificent  than  the 
King's  palace  in  the  Louvre.  What  in  comparison  were  the  more  sumpt- 
uous religious  buildings? 


f  I 


Chap.  Till.  INCENTIVES  FOR  CHURCH  BUILDINGS.  427 

began  to  raise  their  guildhalls)  were  the  church  and 
the  castle.  The  castle  was  built  more  for  strength 
than  for  splendor.  Architecture  had  the  Church  alone 
and  her  adjacent  buildings  on  which  to  lavish  all  her 
skill,  and  to  expend  the  inexhaustible  treasures  poured 
at  her  feet.  To  build  the  Church  was  admitted  at 
once  as  the  most  admirable  virtue,  as  the  most  uncon* 
tested  sign  of  piety,  as  the  fullest  atonement  for  sin,  as 
the  amplest  restitution  for  robbery  or  wrong,  as  the 
bounden  tribute  of  the  loyal  subject  of  God,  as  the 
most  unquestioned  recognition  of  the  sovereignty  and 
mercy  of  God. 

If  these  incentives  were  forever  working  without  the 
Church,  besides  these,  what  powerful  concur-  incwitivei 

J         ,     .J.  ^.  .  ,.         for  Church 

rent  and  subsidiary  motives  were  in  action  buudings. 
within  the  Church !  Every  Prelate,  even  each  mem- 
ber of  a  Chapter  (if  he  had  any  noble  or  less  sordid . 
feeling  than  personal  indulgence  in  pomp  and  luxury, 
or  the  least  ecclesiastical  public  spirit),  would  feel 
emulation  of  his  spiritual  ancestors :  he  would  delight 
to  put  to  shame  the  less  prodigal,  the  more  parsimoni- 
ous, generosity  of  his  predecessor,  would  endeavor  to  | 
transcend  him  in  the  richness  of  his  oblation  to  God  } 
or  to  the  Patron  Saint.  He  would  throw  down  that 
predecessor's  meaner  work,  and  replace  it  by  some- 
thing more  splendid  and  enduring.  Posthumous  glory 
I  would  assume  a  sacred  character :  the  Prelate  would 
*  not  be  inflexibly  and  humbly  content  with  obscure 
goodness,  or  with  the  unwitnessed  virtues,  which  would 
rest  entirely  on  the  reward  in  the  world  to  come.  The 
best  and  wisest  might  think  that  if  their  names  lived 
on  earth  with  their  imperishable  Cathedrals,  it  was 
a  pardonable,  if   not  a  pious  and  laudable  ambition. 


/ 


428  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

Their  own  desire  of  glory  would  so  mingle  with  what 
they  esteemed  the  glory  of  God,  as  to  baffle  their  dis- 
crimination. So  too  national,  municipal,  coq)orate, 
lopal  pride  and  interest  would  disguise  themselves  as 
tae  love  of  God  and  man.  The  fane  of  some  tute- 
lary saint,  or  some  shrine  of  peculiar  holiness  or  of 
'onder-working  power,  which  attracted  more  numer- 
ous and  more  devout  pilgrims,  as  it  enriched  the 
Church,  the  city,  the  town,  the  village,  so  it  would 
demand  even  from  gratitude  a  larger  share  of  the 
votive  offerings.  The  Saint  must  be  rewarded  for 
his  favors,  for  his  benefits;  his  church,  his  chapel, 
and  his  shrine  must  be  more  splendid,  as  more  splen- 
did would  be  more  attractive ;  and  thus  splendor  would 
beget  wealth,  wealth  gladly  devote  itself  to  augment 
the  splendor. 

Throughout,  indeed,  there  was  this  latent,  and  un- 
The  Church,  couscious  it  might  be,  but  undeniable  infla- 
The  PrieBtii.  ^^^^  Operating  through  the  whole  sacerdotal 
Order,  through  the  whole  Monkhood,  and  not  less 
among  the  more  humble  Friars.  Every  church  was 
i^ot  merely  the  house  of  God,  it  was  dso  the  palace 
ivhere  the  religious  Sovereign,  the  Ek^clesiastic,  from 

i  ihe  Pope  to  the  lowliest  Parish  Priest,  held  his  state ; 

*  \t  was  the  unassailable  fortress  of  his  power ;  it  was,  I 
use  the  word  with  reluctance,  the  Exchange  where,  by 
the  display  of  his  wealth,  he  immeasurably  increased 
that  wealth.  To  the  Ecclesiastic  belonged  the  chancel, 
not  to  be  entered  by  unsanctified  feet ;  to  him  in  his 
solitary  or  in  his  corporate  dignity,  only  attended  by  a 
retinue  of  his  own  order ;  his  were  the  costly  dresses, 

*  the   clouds   of  incense.      The  more   magnificent   the 
church,  and   the   more  sumptuous  the  services,    the 


broader  the  line  which  divided  him  from  the  vulgar,  // 
the  rest  of  mankind.  If  he  vouchsafed  some  distinc- 
tion, some  approach  towards  his  unapproachable  majes- 
ty, as  when  the  Emperor  took  his  seat  at  the  entrance 
or  within  the  chancel,  read  the  Gospel,  and  was  gra- 
ciously permitted  to  perform  some  of  the  functions  of  a 
Deacon,  this  but  threw  back  the  rest  of  mankind  to 
more  humble  distance.  Those  passages  which  the 
haughtiest  Popes  alleged  in  plain  words,  as  "Ye  are 
Gods,"  which  was  generally  read,  "  Ye  are  Christs 
(the  anointed  of  God),"  almost  revoked,  or  neutralized 
in  the  minds  of  the  Priesthood,  the  specious  reservation 
that  it  was  God  in  them,  and  not  themselves,  which 
received  these  honors.  Popular  awe  and  reverence 
know  no  nice  theological  discrimination ;  at  least  a 
large  share  of  the  veneration  to  the  Saint  or  the  Re- 
deemer, to  God,  rested,  as  it  passed,  on  the  Hierarchy. 
They  were  recognized  as  those  without  whose  media- 
tion no  prayer  passed  onw^ard  to  the  throne  of  grace ; 
they  stood  on  a  step,  often  a  wide  step,  higher  in  the 
ascent  to  heaven.  Everywhere,  through  the  whole 
framework  of  society,  was  this  contrast,  and  the  con- 
trast was  to  the  advantage  of  the  Hierarchy.  The 
highest  and  richest  Bishop  in  his  episcopal  palace  might 
see  the  castle  of  the  Baron  not  only  in  its  strength, 
but  in  its  height,  its  domains,  its  feudal  splendor,  its 
castellated  richness,  frowning  contemptuously  down 
upon  him ;  he  might  seem  to  be  lurking,  as  it  were,  a 
humble  retainer  under  its  shadow  and  under  its  protec-  . 
tion.  But  enter  the  church  I  the  Baron  stood  afar  off, 
or  knelt  in  submissive,  acknowledged,  infelt  inferiority ; 
and  it  was  seldom  that  in  the  city  the  cathedral  did  not 
outsoar  and  outspread  with  its  dependent  buildings  —   . 


/ 


430  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

/ 

its  baptistery,  chapter-house,  belfiy,  cloisters  —  the 
rival  castle  with  all  its  oatbuildings.  That  which  in 
the  cathedral  city  long  held  the  Ecclesiastics  in  their 
separate  peculiar  majesty,  went  down  in  due  proportion 
through  the  town  to  the  village,  to  the  meanest  hamlet. 
In  the  feudal  castle  itself  the  chapel  w^as  almost  always 
the  most  richly  decorated.  During  war,  in  the  siege, 
in  the  boisterous  banquet,  the  chaplain  might  be  self- 
levelled,  or  levelled  by  a  lawless  chief  and  lawless  sol- 
diery, to  a  humble  retainer  ;  in  the  chapel  he  resumed 
his  proper  dignity.  It  was  his  &ult,  his  want  of  in- 
fluence, if  the  chapel  was  not  maintained  in  greater 
decency  and  splendor  than  the  rude  hall  or  ruder 
chamber ;  and  reverence  to  the  chapel  reacted  on  the 
reverence  to  him6el£ 

Add  to  all  this  the  churches  or  chapels  of  the  re- 
ligious houses,  and  there  was  hardly  a  religious  house 
without  its  church  or  chapel,  many  of  them  equal  or 
surpassing  in  grandeur,  in  embellishment,  those  of 
the  town  or  of  the  city.  In  a  religious  foundation  the 
Church  could  not,  for  very  shame,  be  leas  than  the 
most  stately  and  the  most  splendid  edifice.  Year  af- 
ter year,  century  after  century,  if  any  part  of  the 
monastery  was  secure  from  dilapidation,  if  any  part 
was  maintained,  rebuilt,  redecorated,  it  would  be  the 
church.  The  vow  of  humility,  the  vow  of  poverty  was 
first  tacitly  violated,  first  disdainfully  thrown  aside,  by 
the  severest  Order,  in  honor  of  God.  The  sackclotb- 
clad,  barefoot  Friar  would  watch  and  worship  on  the 
cold  stone  or  the  hard  board ;  but  within  walls  en- 
riched with  the  noblest  paintings,  tapestried  with  the 
most  superb  hangings,  before  an  altar  flashing  witk 
the  gold  pyx,  with  the  jewelled  vessels,  with  the 


ObiP.yin.  THE  CHUHCH  THE  PEOPLE'S.  4S1 

branching  candlesticks.  Assisi,  not  many  yeare  after 
the  deatli  of  St.  Francis,  bad  begun  to  be  the  most 
^lendid  and  highly  adorned  church  in  Italy. 

Thus  ^en  architecture  was  the  minister  at  once  and 
servant  of  the  Church,  and  a  vast  proper- ^h©  chnrt* 
tion  of  the  wealth  of  tlie  world  was  devoted  ****  p«>pie'»- 
to  the  works  of  ai'chitecture.  Nor  was  it  in  a  secular 
point  of  view  a  wasteful  pomp  and  prodigality.  If  the 
church  was  the  one  building  of  tlie  priest,  so  was  it  of 
the  people.  It  was  the  single  safe  and  quiet  place 
where  the  lowest  of  the  low  (oxmd  security,  peace,  rest, 
recreation,  even  diversion.  If  the  chancel  was  the 
Priest's,  the  precincts,  the  porch,  the  nave  were  open 
to  alL;  the  Church  was  all  which  the  amphitheatre, 
the  bath,  the  portico,  the  pubhc  place,  had  been  to  the 
poor  in  the  heathen  cities.  It  was  more  than  the  housd 
of  prayer  and  worship,  where  the  peasant  or  the  beg- 
gar knelt  side  by  side  with  the  burgher  or  the  Baron  ; 
it  was  tlie  asylum,  not  of  the  criminal  only,  but  of  the 
oppressed,  the  sad,  the  toilwom,  the  infirm,  the  aged. 
It  was  not  only  dedicated  to  God ;  it  was  consecrated 
to  the  consolation,  the  peace,  even  the  enjoyment  of 
man.  Thus  was  it  that  architecture  was  raising  all  its 
wondrous  structures  in  the  West,  if  for  the  advance- 
ment of  the  Hierarchy,  so  too  at  the  perpetual  unsleep- 
ing instigation,  at  the  cost,  and  it  should  seem  under 
the  special  direction,  of  the  Hierarchy :  for  no  doubt 
within  the  precincts  of  the  cathedral,  within  the  clois- 
ter, much  of  the  science  of  architecture  was  preserved, 
perpetuated,  enlarged  ;  if  tlie  architects  were  not  them- 
selves Ecclesiastics,  they  were  under  the  protection, 
patronage,  direction,  instruction  of  Ecclesiastics.  But 
it  was  also  of  the  most  indubitable  benefit  to  mankind. 


432  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIY. 

Independent  of  the  elevating,  solemnizing,  expanding 
effects  of  this  most  material  and  therefore  most  miiver- 
sally  impressive  of  the  Fine  Arts,  what  was  it  to  all 
mankind,  especially  to  the  prostrate  and  down-trodden 
part  of  mankind,  that  though  these  buildings  were 
God's,  they  were,  in  a  certain  sense,  his  own ;  he  who 
had  no  property,  not  even  in  his  own  person,  the  serf, 
the  villain,  had  a  kind  of  right  of  proprietorship  in  his 
parish  church,  the  meanest  artisan  in  his  cathedral.  It 
is  impossible  to  follow  out  to  their  utmost  extent,  or  to 
appreciate  too  highly  the  ennobling,  liberalizing,  hu- 
manizing. Christianizing  effects  of  church  architecture 
during  the  Middle  Ages. 

III.  The  third  period  of  Christian  architecture 
(reckoning  as  the  first  tjie  Roman  Basilica,  as  the 
second  the  proper  Byzantine,  with  its  distinctive  Greek 
cross  and  cupolas)  lasted  with  the  Norman  till  the  in- 
troduction of  the  Pointed  or  so-called  Gothic  in  the 
twelfth  century.  This  style  has  been  called  Lombard, 
as  having  first  flourished  in  the  cities  of  Northern  Ita- 
ly, which  under  the  later  Kings  attained  unwonted 
peace  and  prosperity,  and  in  which  the  cities  rose  to 
industiy,  commerce,  wealth,  and  freedom.  Assuredly 
Third  gtyie.  ^^  ^^  "^  invention  of  the  rude  Lombards, 
BywSSi.or  ^^^  brought  ovcr  the  Alps  only  their  con- 
Bomanwque.  q^^riug  anus  and  their  hated  Arianism.  It 
has  been  called  also  Byzantine,  improperly,  for  though 
it  admitted  indiscriminately  Byzantine  and  Roman 
forms  and  arrangements,  its  characteristics  seem  either 
its  own  or  the  traditions  of  Roman  principles,  the  ap- 
propriation and  conversion  to  its  use  of  Roman  exam- 
ples. Its  chief  characteristic  is  delight  in  the  multipli- 
cation of  the  arch,  not  only  for  the  support,  but  for  the 


CHAP.Vra.  THE  BYZANTINE  STYLE.  488 

ornamentation  of  the  building.  Within  and  without 
there  is  the  same  prodigality  of  this  form.  But  these 
rows  or  tiers  of  arches,  without  supporting  or  seeming 
to  support  the  roof,  or  simply  decorative,  appear  to 
be  no  more  than  the  degenerate  Roman,  as  seen  in 
the  Palace  of  Dioclesian  at  Spalatro,  and  useiuUy  as 
well  as  ornamentally  employed  in  the  Coliseum  and  in 
other  amphitheatres.  Gradually  the  west  front  of  the 
Church,  or  the  front  opposite  to  the  altar,  grew  into 
dignity  and  importance.  The  central  portal,  some- 
times the  three  portals,  or  even  five  portals,  lost  their 
square-headed  form,  became  receding  arches,  arches 
within  arches,  decorated  with  graceful  or  fantastic 
mouldings.  Above,  tier  over  tier,  were  formed  rows 
of  arches  (unless  where  a  rich  wheel  or  rose  window 
was  introduced)  up  to  the  broad  bold  gable,  which  was 
sometimes  fringed  as  it  were  just  below  with  small 
arches  following  out  its  line.  Sometimes  these  arches 
ran  along  the  side  walls ;  almost  always  either  standing 
out  more  or  less,  or  in  open  arcades,  they  ran  round 
the  semicircular  eastern  apse.  Besides  these,  slender 
compound  piers  or  small  buttresses  are  carried  up  the 
whole  height  to  the  eaves.  They  arrive  at  length  at 
the  severer  model  of  this  form,  San  Zeno  at  Verona, 
or  the  richer,  the  San  Michele  at  Lucca.  Within  the 
church  the  pillars,  as  the  models  of  those  in  the  an- 
cient buildings  disappeared  (the  Roman  Corinthian  long 
survived),  or  rather  as  the  ruins  of  ancient  buildings 
ceased  to  be  the  quarries  for  churches,  gradually  lost 
their  capitals.  From  those  sprung  the  round  arches  in 
a  bolder  or  more  timid  sweep,  according  to  the  distance 
or  solidity  of  the  pillars.  Above  the  nave  a  second 
row  of  arches  formed  the  clear-story  windows.     The 

VOL.  vni.  2S 


434  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

roof,  in  general  of  timber,  was  first  flat,  then  curved, 
at  length  vaulted.  Over  the  centre  of  the  cross  rose 
the  cupola,  round,  octagon,  or  of  more  ianciful  forms. 
In  the  seventh  century  the  introduction  of  bells,  to 
summon  to  the  service,  drew  on  the  invention  of  the 
architect.  The  dome  or  cupola  was  not  a  convenient 
form  for  a  belfry.  Beside  the  building  it  had  not  been 
unusual  to  erect  a  baptistery,  circular  or  polygonal, 
such  as  are  still  seen  in  the  richest  form,  and  almost 
rivalling  the  churches,  in  Florence  and  in  Parma. 
Throughout  Lombardy,  in  most  parts  of  Italy,  rose 
the  detached  campanile,  sometimes  round,  in  general 
square,  terminating  at  times  with  a  broad  flat  roof, 
more  rarely  towering  into  a  spire.  In  Italy  this  third 
epoch  of  architecture  culminated  in  the  Cathedral  of 
Pisa.  It  was  the  oblation  of  the  richest  and  most 
powerful  city  in  Italy,  at  the  height  of  her  prosperity, 
her  industry,  her  commerce,  her  fame  ;  it  was  made  in 
the  pride  of  her  wealth,  in  a  passion  of  gratitude  for  a 
victory  and  for  rich  plunder  taken  from  the  Mohain- 
inedans  in  the  harbor  of  Palermo.  Pisa  found  an  ar- 
chitect worthy  of  her  profnse  magnificence ;  the  name 
of  Boscheto  lives  in  this  his  .unrivalled  edifice.  It  is 
not  only  that  the  cathedral  makes  one  of  those  four 
buildings  —  the  Dome,  the  Baptistery,  the  Leaning 
Tower,  the  Campo  Santo  —  which  in  their  sad  gran- 
deur in  the  deserted  city  surpass  all  other  groups 
of  buildings  in  Europe :  the  cathedral  standing  alone 
would  command  the  highest  admiration.  On  the  ex- 
terior the  west  front  displays  that  profusion  of  tiers  of 
arches  above  arches,  arranged  with  finer  proportion, 
richness,  and  upward  decreasing  order,  than  elsewhere. 
But  its  suUiraity  is  within.     Its  plan,  the  Latin  cross 


Chap.  VIH.  TRANSALPINE  ROMANESQUE.  435 

in  the  most  perfect  proportion,  gives  its  impressive  uni- 
ty to  its  central  nave,  with  its  double  aisles,  its  aisled 
transepts,  its  receding  apse.  Its  loftiness  is  far  more 
commanding  than  any  building  of  its  class  in  Italy  had 
as  yet  aspired  to  reach.  The  Corinthian  pillars  along 
the  nave  are  of  admirable  height  and  proportion ;  ^  those 
of  the  aisles  lower,  but  of  the  same  style.  The  arches 
spring  boldly  from  the  capitals  of  the  pillars ;  the  tri- 
fbrium  above,  running  down  the  long  nave,  is  singu- 
larly picturesque.  While  the  long,  bold,  horizontal 
architrave  gives  the  sedate  regularity  of  the  Basilica ; 
the  crossings  of  the  transepts,  the  sweep  of  the  curved 
apse,  even  without  the  effective  mosaic  of  Cimabue, 
close  the  view  with  lines  of  the  most  felicitous  and 
noble  form. 

Nothing  can  contrast  more  strongly,  in  the  same  ar- 
chitecture, than  the  Transalpine  Romanesque  with  Pisa.^ 
It  is  seen  in  all  the  old  cities  on  the  Rhine  (the  earliest 
form  in  St.  Castor  at  Coblentz),  later  at  Spires,  Worms, 
Mentz,  Bonn,  the  older  churches  at  Cologne ;  east  of 
the  Rhine  in  the  older  cities  or  monasteries,  as  in  Corvey. 
It  is  more  rude  but  more  bold  ;  these  churches  might 
seem  the  works  of  the  great  feudal  Prelates ;  with  a 
severe  grandeur,  not  without  richness  of  decoration,  but 
disdaining  grace  or  luxuriance.  They  are  of  vast  size, 
as  may  beseem  Prelate  Princes,  but  of  the  coarse  red  or 
gray  stone  of  the  country,  no  fine-wrought  fi'eestone,  no 
glittering  marble.  The  pillars  are  usually  without  cap- 
itals, or  with  capitals  fantastic  and  roughly  hewn ;  they 
would  impress  by  strength  and  solidity  rather  than  by 

1  The  pointed  arch  from  the  nave  to  the  tnmsepts  is  of  later  date;  incon- 
graouB  but  not  without  effect. 
*  See  for  the  Saxon  Romanesque  Schnaase.  ^ 


486  LATIN  CHRISTIAMTT.  Book  XIT. 

harmony  or  regularity.^  Li  the  south  of  France  this 
style  is  traced  not  only  in  cathedral  cities,  but  in  many 
very  curious  parochial  churches.  With  few  exceptions, 
it  is  there  more  picturesque  and  fanciful  t!:an  grand  or 
solemn.  In  the  north  of  France  and  in  England  this 
architecture  received  such  a  powerful  impulse  from  the, 
Normans  as  almost  to  form  a  new  epoch  in  the  art. 

IV.  That  wonderful  people,  the  Normans,  though 
The  Nor-  without  Creative  power,  seemed  as  it  were  to 
"'*°*-  throw  their  whole  strength   and  vigor  into 

architecture,  as  into  everything  else.  They  had  their 
kingdoms  on  the  Mediterranean,  and  on  either  side  of 
the  British  Channel.  In  the  South  they  had  become 
Southerns  ;  even  in  architecture  they  anticipated  from 
the  Mohammedans  some  approximation  to  the  Gothic, 
the  pointed  arch.  In  the  North,  on  the  other  hand,  as 
by  adopting  and  domiciling  men  of  Roman  or  Italian 
cultivation,  they  had  braced  the  intellect  of  the  degen- 
erate Church  to  young  energy,  and  had  trained  learned 
Churchmen  and  theologians,  Lanfrancs  and  Anselms ; 
so  taking  the  form,  the  structure,  the  architectural 
science  of  universal  Latin  Christendom,  they  gave  it  a 
grandeur,  solidity,  massiveness,  even  height,  which  might 
seem  intended  to  confront  a  ruder  element,  more  wild 
and  tempestuous  weather.  The  Norman  cathednJs 
might  almost  seem  built  for  warlike  or  defensive  pur- 
poses ;  as  though  their  Heathen  ancestors,  having  in 
their  fierce  incursions  destroyed  church  and  monastery, 
as  well  as  castle  and  town,  they  would  be  prepared  for 
any  inroad  of  yet  un-Christianized  Northmen.  That 
great  characteristic  of  the  Norman  chwrches,  the  huge 
square  central  tower,  was  battlemented  like  a  castle. 

1  Mr.  Petit  has  pnblished  engravings  of  many  of  these  bnHdingk 


Cbap.YUI.  GOTHIC  ABCHTTECTUBE.  4S7 

The  whole  impression  is  that  of  vast  power  in  the  archi- 
tect, unshaken  duration  in  the  edifice ;  it  is  the  build- 
ing of  a  Hierarchy  which  has  un&iling  confidence  in  its 
own  strength,  in  its  perpetuity.  On  the  exterior,  in  the 
general  design  there  is  plainness,  almost  austerity ;  the 
walls,  visibly  of  enormous  thickness,  are  pierced  with 
round  arched  windows  of  no  great  size,  but  of  great 
depth;  the  portals  are  profound  recesses,  arch  within 
arch  resting  on  short  stubborn  pillars ;  the  capitals  ai*e 
rude,  but  boldly  projecting;  the  rich  ornaments  cut 
with  a  vigorous  and  decisive  hand :  the  zigzag  or  other 
moulilings  with  severity  in  their  most  prodigal  richness. 
In  the  interior  all  again  is  simple  to  the  disdain,  in  its 
greater  parts,  of  ornament.  The  low,  thick,  usually 
round  pillars,  with  capitals  sometimes  indulging  in  wild 
shapes,  support,  with  their  somewhat  low  arches,  the 
ponderous  wall,  in  its  turn  pressed  down  as  it  were  by 
the  ponderous  roof.  Such  are  the  works  of  our  Nor- 
man Kings,  the  two  abbeys  at  Caen,  Jumieges  in  its 
ruins,  St.  George  de  Boscherville ;  such  in  our  island, 
Durham,  parts  of  Peterborough  and  Ely,  and  Glouces- 
ter, the  two  square  towers  of  Exeter.  If  later  and 
more  splendid  cathedrals  inspire  a  higher  devotion, 
none  breathe  more  awe  and  solemnity  than  the  old 
Norman.^ 

V.  On  a  sudden,  in  a  singularly  short  period,  the  latter 
half  of  the  twelfth  century  (though  discerning  q^^^  ^^j. 
eyes  ^  may  trace,  and  acute  minds  have  traced  ^*""- 
with  remarkable  success  and  felicity,  this  transition), 

I  See  Mr.  Gaily  Enight*8  Nonnan  Tour,  and  Normans  in  Sicily.  Mr. 
Knight  dedicated  part  of  a  noble  fortune  to  these  studies,  illustrating  his 
own  excellent  judgment  by  the  well-ramunerated  labors  of  accomplished 
irtists. 

«  Dr.  Whewell,  Mr.  Willis,  Mr.  Petit, 


488  -LATIN  CHMSTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

Christian  architecture  beyond  the  Alps,  in  Germany, 
in  France,  in  England,  becomes  creative.  Nothing 
but  the  distribution  and  arrangement  of  the  parts  of  the 
church  remains  the  same ;  and  even  in  that  respect  the 
church,  instead  of  standing  alone  or  nearly  alone,  with 
the  other  edifices  in  humble  subordination,  is  crowded 
around  by  a  multitude  of  splendid  vassals,  partaking  in 
all  her  decorative  richness,  the  Lady  chapel  and  other 
chapels,  the  chapter-house,  the  monastery,  the  episcopal 
palace,  the  cloisters,  sometimes  the  belfiry. 

In  the  church  not  only  are  there  new  forms,  not 
only  is  there  a  new  principle  of  harmony,  not  only  a 
constant  substitution  of  vertical  for  horizontal  lines, 
new  and  most  exquisite  proportions,  an  absolutely  orig- 
inal character,  but  new  principles  of  construction  seem 
to  have  revealed  themselves.  Architecture  is  not  only 
a  new  art,  awakening  different  emotions  of  wonder, 
awe  aiid  admiration,  but  a  new  science.  It  has  dis- 
covered the  secret  of  achieving  things  which  might  ap- 
pear impossible,  but  which  once  achieved,  seem  per- 
fectly simple,  secure,  justificatoiy  of  their  boldness, 
firom  the  perfect  balance  and  equable  pressure  of  every 
part,  pressure  disguised  as  it  were,  as  distributed  on  a 
multitude  of  supports,  and  locked  down  by  superincum- 
bent weights.  Such  is  the  unity,  however  multi&rious, 
of  the  whole,  that  the  lightest,  though  loftiest  and  most 
vast  Gothic  cathedral,  has  a  look  of  strength  and  dura- 
tion as  manifest,  as  unquestioned,  as  the  most  ponder- 
ous and  massive  Romanesque  or  Norman. 

The  rapid,  simultaneous,  and  universal  growth  of 
Rapid  rise  this^so-called  Gothic,  its  predominance,  like 
rfoB.  its  predecessor  the  Romanesque,  through  the 

whole  realm  of  Latin  Christendom,  is  not  the  least  ex- 


CHAP.vm.  GOTHia  489 

traordinary  &ct  in  the  revolution.     It  has  had  marked 
stages  of  development  (now  defined  with  careful  dis- 
crimination by  the  able  and  prolific  writers  on  the  art) 
during  several  centuries  and  in  all  countries,  in  Ger- 
many, France,  England,  the  Netherlands,  Spain,  even 
Italy;    but  its  first  principles  might  almost  seem  to 
have  broken  at  once  on  the  wondering  world.     Every-  / 
where  the  whole  building  has  an  upward,  it  might  seem  j 
heaven-aspiring  tendency ;  everywhere  the  arches  be-  ! 
come  more  and  more  pointed,  till  at  length  they  arrive 
at  the  perfect  lancet ;  everywhere  the  thick  and  massy  i 
walls  expand  into  large,  mullioned  windows;   every-  \ 
where  th6  diminished  solidity  of  the  walls  is  supported   | 
from  without  by  flying  buttresses,  now  concealed,  now 
become  lighter  and  more  graceful,  and  revealing  them- 
selves, not  as  mere  supports,  but  as  integral  parts  of  the 
building,  and  resting  on  outward  buttresses ;    every-  i 
where  pinnacles  arise,  singly  or  in  clusters,  >  not  for   I 
ornament  alone,  but  for  efiect  and  perceptible   use ; 
everywhere  the  roof  becomes  a  ridge  more  or  less  pre- 
cipitate ;  everywhere  the  west  front  becomes  more  rich 
and  elaborate,  with  its  receding  portals  covered  with 
niches,  which  are  crowded  with  statues ;  everywhere 
the  central  tower  assumes  a  more  graceful  form,  or 
tapers  into  a  spire;  often  two  subordinate  towers,  or 
two  principal  towers,  flank  the  west  front ;  everywhere; 
in  the  exuberant  prodigality  of  ornament,  knosps,  shrine- 
work,  corbels,  gargoyles,  there  is  a  significance  and  a 
purport.    Within  the  church  the  pillars  along  the  nave 
break  into  gracefiil  clusters  around  the  central  shaft; 
the  vaulted  roof  is  formed  of  the  most  simple  yet  in- 
tricate ribs ;  everywhere  there  are  the  noblest  avenues 
of  straight  lines  of  pillars,  the  most  picturesque  cross- 


440  LATIN    CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

mgs  and  interminglings  of  arches;  everywhere  har- 
mony of  the  same  converging  lines;  everywhere  the 
aim  appears  to  be  height,  unity  of  impression,  with  in* 
finite  variety  of  parts ;  a  kind  of  heavenward  aspirin 
tion,  with  the  most  prodigal  display  of  human  labor 
and  wealth,  as  an  oblation  to  the  temple  of  God. 

The  rise  of  Gothic  Architecture,  loosely  speaking, 
was  contemporaneous  with  the  Crusades.^  It  was 
natural  to  suppose  that  the  eyes  of  the  pilgrims  were 
TheCru-  cawght  by  the  slender,  graceful,  and  richly 
"***••  decorated  forms  of  the  Saracenic  mosques,  with 

their  minarets  and  turrets.  Pointed  windows  were  dis- 
covered in  mosques,  and  held  to  be  the  models  of  the 
Gothic  cathedrals.  Even  earlier,  when  the  Normans 
were  piling  up  their  massy  round  arches  in  the  North, 
they  had  some  pointed  arches  in  Sicily,  apparently 
adopted  from  the  Mohammedans  of  that  island.^  But 
the  pointed  arch  is  only  one  characteristic  of  Gothic 
Architecture,  it  is  a  vast  step  from  the  imitation  of  a 
pointed  arch  or  window  (if  there  were  such  imitation, 
which  is  extremely  doubtful),  to  the  creation  of  a 
Gothic  cathedral.®  The  connection  of  the  Crusades 
was  of  another  kind,  and  far  more  powerful ;  it  was 
the  devotion  aroused  in  all  orders  by  that  universal 


1  The  theory  of  Warburton  deriring  the  Gothic  Cathedrals  from  an  iiii> 
itation  of  the  overarching  forests  of  the  ancient  Germans  (he  is  disposed  to 
go  back  to  the  Druids)  is  curious  as  illustrating  the  strange  and  total  neg> 
lect  of  Mediaeval  Church  History  in  this  country.  Here  is  a  divine  of  al- 
most unrivalled  erudition  (Jurtin  excepted)  in  his  day,  who  seems  to  sup> 
pose  that  the  Germans  immediately  that  they  emerged  from  their  foreata, 
set  to  work  to  build  Gothic  cathedrals.  He  must  either  have  supposed 
Gothic  architecture  of  the  fourth  or  fifth  century,  or  quietly  annihilated  the 
intervening  centuries  to  the  twelfth. 

2  Gaily  Knight,  "  Normans  in  Sicily." 

•  Compare  Whewell,  ^  Architectunl  Notes,"  p.  35. 


V 


Chap.  VIIL  FREEBiASONS.  441 

moYement,  which  set  into  activity  all  the  faculties  of     f 
man ;  and  the  riches  poured  into  the  lap  of  the  Clergy,     I 
which  enabled   them  to  achieve  such  wonders  in  so 
short  a  period.     Religion  awoke  creative  genius,  genius 
worked  fireely  with  boundless  command  of  wealth. 

This  apparently  simultaneous  outburst,  and  the  uni- 
versal promulgation  of  the  principles,  rules.  Theory  at 
and  practice  of  the  Gothic  Architecture,  has  FreenuwonB. 
been  accounted  for  by  the  existence  of  a  vast  secret 
guild  of  Freemasons,  or  of  architects.^  Of  this  guild, 
either  connected  with  or  latent  in  the  monasteries  and 
among  the  Clergy,  some  of  whom  were  men  of  pro- 
found architectural  science,  and  held  in  their  pay  and 
in  their  subservience  all  who  were  not  ecclesiastics, 
it  is  said,  the  centre,  the  quickening,  and  governing 
power  was  in  Rome.  Certainly  of  all  developments 
of  the  Papal  influence  and  wisdom  none  could  be  more 
extraordinary  than  this  summoning  into  being,  this  con- 
ception, this  completion  of  these  marvellous  buildings 
in  every  part  of  Latin  Christendom.  But  it  is  fatal 
to  this  theory  that  Rome  is  the  city  in  which  Gothic 
Architecture,  which  some  have  strangely  called  the 
one  absolute  and  exclusive  Christian  Architecture,  has 
never  found  its  place ;  even  in  Italy  it  has  at  no  time 
been  more  than  a  half-naturalized  stranger.  It  must 
be  supposed  that  while  the  Papacy  was  thus  planting 
the  world  with  Gothic  cathedrals,  this  was  but  a  sort 
of  lofty  concession  to  Transalpine  barbarism,  while  it- 
self adhered  to  the  ancient,  venerable,  more  true  and 
majestic  style  of  ancient  Rome.  This  guild  too  was  so 
secret  as  to  elude  all  discovery.  History,  documentary 
evidence  maintain  rigid,  inexplicable  silence.     The  ac- 

i  Hope  on  Architectare. 


442  LATIN  CHBISTUNTTT.  Book  XIV. 

counts,  which  in  some  places  have  been  found,  name 
persons  employed.  The  names  of  one  or  two  archi- 
tects, as  Erwin  of  Strasburg,  have  survived,  but  of 
this  guild  not  one  word.^  The  theory  is  not  less  un- 
necessary than  without  support.  Undoubtedly  there 
was  the  great  universal  guild,  the  ClCTgy  and  the  mo- 
nastic bodies,  who  perhaps  produced,  certainly  retained, 
state  of  employed,  guided,  directed  the  builders.  Dur- 
Europe.         jj^g  ^j^jg  p^nod  Latin  Christendom  was  in  a 

state  of  perpetual  movement,  intercommunication  be- 
tween all  parts  was  firequent,  easy,  uninterrupted. 
There  were  not  only  now  pilgrimages  to  Rome,  but  a 
regular  tide  setting  to  and  from  the  East,^  a  concourse 
to  the  schools  and  universities,  to  Paris,  Cologne, 
Montpellier,  Bologna,  Salerno :  rather  later  spread  the 
Mendicants.  The  monasteries  were  the  great  canir 
vansaries;  every  class  of  society  was  stirred  to  its 
depths;  in  some  cases  even  the  villains  broke^  the 
bonds  which  attached  them  to  the  soil ;  to  all  the  al>- 
bey  or  the  church  opened  its  hospitable  gates.  Men 
skilled  and  practised  in  the  science  of  architecture 
would  not  rest  unemployed,  or  but  poorly  employedt 
at  home.  Splendid  prizes  would  draw  forth  competi- 
tion, emulation.  Sacerdotal  prodigality,  magnificence, 
zeal,  rivah*y  would  abroad  be  famous,  attractive  at 
home ;  they  would  be  above  local  or  national  prepos- 
sessions.    The  prelate  or  the  abbot,  who  had  deter- 

1  All  the  documentary  evidence  adduced  by  Mr.  Hope  amounts  to  a  Pa- 
jMiI  privilege  to  certnin  builders  or  masons,  or  a  guild  of  builders,  at  Como, 
published  by  Muratori  (Como  was  long  celebrated  for  its  skill  and  devotion 
to  the  art),  and  a  charter  to  certain  painters  by  our  Henry  V''!.  Schnaaae 
(Geschic-hte  der  Hildende  Kunst,  iv.  c.  6)  examines  and  rejects  the  tboorr. 
He  citefl  some  few  instances  more  of  guilds,  but  local  and  municipal.  The 
first  guild  of  masons,  which  comprehended  all  Germany,  was  of  the  middk 
of  the  15th  centuiy. 


Chap.VUI.  state  of  EUROPE.  448 

mined  in  his  holy  ambition  that  his  cathedral  or  his 
abbey  should  surpass  others,  and  who  liad  unlimited 
wealth  at  his  disposal,  would  welcome  the  celebrated, 
encourage  the  promising,  builder  from  whatever  quarter 
of  Christendom  he  came.  Thus,  within  certain  limits, 
great  architects  would  be  the  architects  of  the  world,  I 
or  what  was  then  the  Western  world,  Latin  Christen-  / 
dom :  and  so  there  would  be  perpetual  progress,  com-/  I 
munication,  sympathy  in  actual  design  and  execuV  / 
tion,  as  well  as  in  the  principles  and  in  the  science  of  / 
construction.  Accordingly,  foreign  architects  are  frel-  / 
quently  heard  of.  Germans  crossed  the  Alps  to  teac  i  / 
Italy  the  secret  of  the  new  architecture.^  Each  natio  1/ 
indeed  seems  to  have  worked  out  its  own  Gothic  wit  v 
certain  general  peculiarities,  Germany,  France,  tlJa 
Netherlands,  England,  and  later  Spain.  All  seem  to 
aim  at  certain  effects,  all  recognized  certain  broad  prin- 
ciples, but  the  application  of  these  principles  varies  in- 
finitely. Sometimes  a  single  building,  sometimes  the 
buildings  within  a  certain  district,  have  their  peculiar- 
ities. Under  a  guild,  if  there  had  been  full  freedom 
for  invention,  originality,  boldness  of  design,  there  had 
been  more  rigid  uniformity,  more  close  adherence  to 
rule  in  the  scientifical  and  technical  parts. 

The  name  of  Gothic  has  ascended  from  its  primal 
meaning,  that  of  utter  contempt,  to  the  highest  honor ; 
it  is  become  conventional  for  the  architecture  of  the 


1  "  All  countries^  in  adopting  a  neighboring  style,  seem  however  to  have 
worked  it  with  some  pecaliarities  of  their  own,  so  that  a  person  conversant 
with  examples  can  tell,  npon  inspecting  a  building,  not  only  to  what  period 
it  belongs,  but  to  what  nation.  Much. depends  on  material,  much  on  the 
style  of  sculpture,"  &c.  —  Willis  on  Architecture,  p.  11.  Mr.  Rickman*8 
book  is  most  instructive  on  the  three  styles  predominant  successively  in 
England.  —  Compare  Whewell. 


444  LATIN  CHRISTUNITY.  Book  XIV. 

Middle  Ages,  and  commands  a  kind  of  traditionary 
reverence.  Perhaps  Teutonic,  or  at  least  Transalpine, 
might  be  a  more  fit  appellation.  It  was  bom,  and 
reached  its  maturity  and  perfection  north  of  the  Alps. 
Gothic,  properly  so  called,  is  a  stranger  and  an  alien  in 
Italy.  Rome  absolutely  repudiated  it.  It  was  brought 
across  the  Alps  by  German  architects ;  it  has  ever 
borne  in  Italy  the  somewhat  contemptuous  name  Gt^r- 
man-Gothic.^  Among  its  earliest  Italian  efforts  is  one 
remarkable  for  its  history,  as  built  by  a  French  archi- 
tect with  English  gold,  and  endowed  with  benefices  in 
England.  The  Cardinal  Gualo,  the  legate  who  placed 
the  young  Henry  III.  on  the  throne  of  England,  as  he 
came  back  laden  with  the  grateful  or  extorted  tribute 
of  the  island,  12,000  marks  of  silver,  encountered  an 
architect  of  fame  at  Paris :  he  carried  the  Northern 
itauan  with  him  to  his  native  Vercelli,  where  the 
A.D.  ma.  Church  of  St.  Andrea  astonished  Italy  with 
its  pointed  arches,  as  well  as  the  Italian  clergy  with 
the  cliarges  fixed  for  their  maintenance  on  Preferments 
in  remote  England.^  Assisi,  for  its  age  the  wonder  of 
the  world,  was  built  by  a  German  architect.  What  is 
called  the  Lombard  or  Italian-Gothic,  though  inhar- 
monious as  attempting  to  reconcile  vertical  and  hori- 
zontal lines,  has  no  doubt  its  own  admirable  excellen- 
ces, in  some  respects  may  vie  with  the  Transalpine. 
Its  costly  marbles,  inlaid  into  the  building,  where  they 
do  not  become  alternate  layers  of  black  and  white  (to 
my  judgment  an  utter  defiance  of  every  sound  principle 
of  architectural  effect),  its  gorgeousness  at  Florence, 
Sienna,   its   fantastic    grace   at    Orvieto,   cannot  but 

1  Gotioo  Tedesco.    Compare  Hope,  c  tetit. 
*  Compare  on  Cazdinal  Gnalo,  vol.  ▼.  p.  313. 


Chap.  VIII.  ITALIAN  GOTHIC.  446 

awaken  those  emotions  which  are  the  world's  recog- 
nition of  noble  architecture.^  Milan  to  me,  with  all 
its  matchless  splendor,  and  without  considering  the  ar- 
chitectural heresy  of  its  modem  west  front,  is  wanting 
in  rehgiousness.  It  aspires  to  magnificence,  and  noth- 
ing beyond  magnificence.  It  is  a  cathedral  which 
might  have  been  erected  in  the  pride  of  their  wealth 
by  the  godless  Visconti.  Nothing  can  be  more  won- 
derful, nothing  more  gi'aceful,  each  seen  singly,  than 
the  numbers  numberless,  in  Milton's  words,  of  the  tur- 
TOts,  pinnacles,  statues,  above,  below,  before,  behind, 
on  every  side.  But  the  effect  is  confusion,  a  dazzling 
the  eyes  and  mind,  distraction,  bewilderment.  The 
statues  are  a  host  of  visible  images  basking  in  the  sun- 
shine, not  glorified  saints  calmly  ascending  to  heaven. 
In  the  interior  the  vast  height  is  concealed  and  dimin- 
ished by  the  shrine-work  which  a  great  way  up  arrests 
the  eye  and  prevents  it  from  following  the  columns  up 
to  the  roof,  and  makes  a  second  stage  between  the  pa v ce- 
ment and  the  vault ;  a  decoration  without  meaning  or 
purport. 

There  can  be  no  doubt  that  the  birthplace  of  true 
Grothic  Architecture  was  north  of  the  Alps  ;  it  should 
seem  on  the  Rhine,  or  in  those  provinces  of  France 

1  Professor  Willis  lays  down  **"  that  there  is  in  fact  no  genuine  Gothic 
building  in  Italj/'  —  On  Italian  Architecture,  p.  4.  He  is  inclined  to 
make  exceptions  for  some  churches  built  in  or  near  Naples  by  the  Ange- 
vine  dynasty.  **  The  curious  result  is  a  style  in  which  the  horizontal  and 
vertical  lines  equally  predominate;  and  which,  while  it  wants  alike  the 
lateral  extension  and  repose  of  the  Grecian  and  the  lofty  upward  tendency 
and  pyramidal  majesty  of  the  Gothic,  is  yet  replete  with  many  an  interest- 
ing and  valuable  architectuml  lesson.  It  exhibits  pointed  arches,  pin- 
nacles, buttresses;  tracery  and  clustered  columns,  rib-vaultings,  and  lofty 
towers ;  all  those  characteristics,  in  short,  the  bare  enunciation  of  which 
is  considered  by  many  writers  to  be  a  sufficient  definition  of  Gothic."  — 
Ibid. 


446  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIT. 

which  then  were  German,  Burgundy,  Lorraine,  Al- 
sace, bordering  on  the  Rhine.  It  was  a  splendid  gift 
of  Teutonism  before  Germany  rose  in  insurrection  and 
set  itself  apart  froin  Latin  Christendom.  North  of  the 
Alps  it  attained  its  full  pei*fection  ;  there  alone  the 
Cathedral  became  in  its  significant  symbolism  the  im- 
personation of  mediseval  Christianity. 

The  Northern  climate  may  have  had  some  connection 
ciimafce.  with  its  Hsc  and  development.  In  Italy  and 
the  South  the  Sun  is  a  tyrant ;  breadth  of  shadow 
must  mitigate  his  force ;  the  wide  eaves,  the  bold  pro- 
jecting cornice  must  afford  protection  from  his  burning 
and  direct  rays ;  there  would  be  a  reluctance  altogether 
to  abandon  those  horizontal  lines,  which  cast  a  con- 
tinuous and  unbroken  shadow  ;  or  to  ascend  as  it  were 
with  the  vertical  up  into  the  unslaked  depths  of  the 
noonday  blaze.  The  violent  rains  would  be  cast  off 
more  freely  by  a  more  flat  and  level  roof  at  a  plane  of 
slight  inclination.  In  the  North  the  precipitate  ridge 
would  cast  off  the  heavy  snow,  which*  might  have 
lodged  and  injured  the  edifice.  So,  too,  within  the 
church  the  Italian  had  to  cool  and  diminish,  the  North- 
ern  would  admit  and  welcome  the  flooding  light.  So 
much  indeed  did  the  Gothic  Architecture  enlarge  and 
multiply  the  apertures  for  light,  that  in  order  to  restore 
the  solemnity  it  was  obliged  to  subdue  and  sheathe  as 
it  were  the  glare,  at  times  overpowering,  by  painted 
glass.  And  thus  the  magic  of  the  richest  coloring  was 
added  to  the  infinitely  diversified  forms  of  the  archi- 
tecture. 

The  Gothic  cathedral  was  the  consummation,  the 
completion  of  mediaeval,  of  hierarchical  Christianity. 
Of  that  mediaeval  ism,  of   that  hierarchism   (though 


Chap.  Yin.     SYMBOLS  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTURE.  447 

Italy  was  the  domain,  and  Rome  the  capital  of  tlie 
Pope),  the  seat  was  beyond  the  Alps.  The  media3val 
hierarchical  sei*vices  did  not  rise  to  their  full  majesty 
and  impressiveness  till  celebrated  under  a  Gothic  ca- 
thedral. The  church  might  seem  to  expand,  and  lay 
itself  out  in  long  and  narrow  avenues,  with  the  most 
gracpfuUy  converging  perspective,  in  order  that  the  wor- 
shipper might  contemplate  with  deeper  awe  the  more  re- 
mote central  ceremonial.  The  enormous  height  more 
than  compensated  for  the  contracted  breadth.  Nothing 
could  be  more  finely  arranged  for  the  processional  ser- 
vices ;  and  the  processional  services  became  more  fre- 
quent, more  imposing.  The  music,  instead  of  being 
beaten  down  by  low  broad  arches,  or  lost  within  the 
heavier  aisles,  soared  freely  to  the  lofty  roof,  pervaded 
the  whole  building,  was  infinitely  multiplied  as  it  died 
and  rose  again  to  the  fretted  roof.  Even  the  incense 
cnrling  more  freely  up  to  the  immeasurable  height, 
might  give  the  notion  of  clouds  of  adoration  finding 
their  way  to  heaven. 

The  Gothic  cathedral  remains  an  imperishable  and 
majestic  monument  of  hierarchical  wealth,  Symbousm  of 
power,  devotion ;  it  can  hardly  be  absolutely  tectuw. 
called  self-sacrifice,  for  if  built  for  the  honor  of  God  and 
of  the  Redeemer,  it  was  honor,  it  was  almost  worship, 
shared  in  by  the  high  ecclesiastic.  That  however  has 
almost  passed  away;  God,  as  it  were,  now  vindicates 
to  himself  his  own.  The  cathedral  has  been  described 
as  a  vast  book  in  stone,  a  book  which  taught  by  sym- 
bolic language,  partly  plain  and  obvious  to  the  simpler 
man,  partly  shrouded  in  not  less  attractive  mystery. 
It  was  at  once  strikingly  significant  and  inexhaustible  ; 
bewildering,  feeding  at  once  and  stimulating  profound 


448  ULTIN  CHRISTUKITY.  Book  XIY. 

meditadoD.  Even  its  height,  its  vastness  might  ap- 
|>ear  to  suggest  the  Inconceivable,  the  Incomprehen- 
sible in  the  Godhead,  to  symbolize  the  Infinity,  the 
incalculable  grandeur  and  majesty  of  the  divine  works ; 
the  mind  felt  homble  under  its  shadow  as  before  an 
awful  presence.  Its  form  and  distribution  was  a  con- 
fession of  faith ;  it  typified  the  creed.  Everywhere 
was  the  mystic  number ;  the  Trinity  was  proclaimed 
by  the  nave  and  the  aisles  (multiplied  sometimes  as 
at  Bourges  and  elsewhere  to  the  other  sacred  number, 
seven),  the  three  richly  ornamented  recesses  of  the 
portal,  the  three  towers.  The  Rose  over  the  west 
was  the  Unity ;  the  whole  building  was  a  Cross.  The 
altar  with  its  decorations  announced  the  Real  Per- 
petual Presence.  The  solemn  Crypt  below  repre- 
sented the  under  world,  the  soul  of  man  in  darkness 
and  the  shadow  of  death,  the  body  awaiting  the  res- 
urrection. This  was  the  more  obvious  universal  lan- 
guage. By  those  who  sought  more  abstruse  and 
recondite  mysteries,  they  might  be  found  in  all  tlie 
multifarious  details,  provoking  the  zealous  curiosity, 
or  dimly  suggestive  of  holy  meaning.  Sculpture  was 
called  in  to  aid.  All  the  great  objective  truths  of 
religion  had  their  fitting  place.  Even  the  Father, 
either  in  familiar  symbol  or  in  actual  form,  began  to 
appear,  and  to  assert  his  property  in  the  sacred  build- 
ing. Already  in  the  Romanesque  edifices  the  Son, 
either  as  the  babe  in  the  lap  of  his  Virgin  Mother, 
on  the  cross,  or  ascending  into  heaven,  had  taken  his 
place  over  the  central  entrance,  as  it  were  to  receive 
and  welcoVne  the  woi^shipper.  Before  long  he  appeared 
not  there  alone,  though  there  in  more  imposing  form  ; 
he  was  seen  throughout  all  Ids  wondrous  history,  with 


Chap.  Vm.    SYMBOLS  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTUEB.  449 

all  his  acts  and  miracles,  down  to  the  Resurrection, 
the  Ascension,  the  return  to  Judgment.  Everywhere 
was  that  hallowed  form,  in  infancy,  in  power,  on  the 
cross,  on  the  right  hand  of  the  Father,  coming  down 
amid  the  hosts  of  angels.  The  most  stupendous, 
the  most  multifarious  scenes  were  represented  in  re- 
liefs more  or  less  bold,  prominent,  and  vigorous,  or 
rude  and  harsh.  The  carving  now  aspired  to  more 
than  human  beauty,  or  it  delighted  in  the  most  hide- 
ous ugliness ;  majestic  gentle  Angels,  grinning  hate- 
ful sometimes  half-comic  Devils.  But  it  was  not  only 
the  New  and  the  Old  Testament,  it  was  the  Golden 
Legend  also  which  might  be  read  in  the  unexhausted 
language  of  the  cathedral.  Our  Lady  had  her  own 
chapels  for  her  own  special  votaries,  and  toward  the 
East,  behind  the  altar,  the  place  of  honor.  Not  only 
were  there  the  twelve  Apostles,  the  four  Evangelists, 
the  Martyrs,  the  four  great  Doctors  of  the  Latin 
Church,  each  in  his  recognized  form,  and  with  his 
peculiar  symbol,  —  the  whole  edifice  swarmed  with 
Saints  within  and  without,  on  the  walls,  on  the  painted 
windows,  over  the  side  altars.  For  now  the  mystery 
was  so  awful  that  it  might  be  administered  more  near 
to  the  common  eye,  upon  the  altar  in  every  succursal 
chapel  which  lined  the  building :  it  was  secure  in  its 
own  sanctity.  There  were  the  Saints  local,  national, 
or  those  especially  to  whom  the  building  was  dedi- 
cated ;  and  the  celestial  hierarchy  of  the  Areopagite, 
with  its  ascending  orders,  and  conventional  forms,  the 
winged  seraph,  the  cherubic  face.  The  whole  in  its 
vastness  and  intricacy  was  to  the  outward  sense  and 
to  the  imagination  what  Scholasticism  was  to  the  in- 
tellect, an  enormous  effort,  a  waste  and  prodigality 
VOL.  Yni.  29 


450  LATIN  CHBISTIAKITT.  Book  XIV. 

of  power,  which  confounded  and  bewildered  rather 
than  enlightened ;  at  the  utmost  awoke  vague  and  in- 
distinct emotion. 

But  even  therein  was  the  secret  of  the  imperishable 
power  of  the  Gothic  cathedrals.  Their  hieroglyphic 
language,  in  its  more  abstruse  terms,  became  obsolete 
and  unintelligible  ;  it  was  a  purely  hierarchical  dialect ; 
its  meaning,  confined  to  the  hierarchy,  gradually  lost 
its  signification  even  to  them.  But  the  cathedrals 
themselves  retired  as  it  were  into  more  simple  and 
more  commanding  majesty,  into  the  solemn  grandeur 
of  their  general  effect.  They  rested  only  on  the  won- 
derful boldness  and  unity  of  their  design,  the  richness 
of  their  detail.  Content  now  to  appeal  to  the  indelible, 
inextinguishable  kindred  and  aflSnity  of  the  human  heart 
to  grandeur,  grace,  and  beauty,  the  countless  statues 
from  objects  of  adoration  became  architectural  orna- 
ments. So  the  mediaeval  churches  survive  in  their 
influence  on  the  mind  and  the  soul  of  man.  Their 
venerable  antiquity  comes  in  some  sort  in  aid  of  their 
innate  religiousness.  It  is  that  about  them  which  was 
temporary  and  accessory,  their  hierarchical  character, 
which  has  chiefly  dropped  from  them  and  become  obso^ 
lete.  They  are  now  more  absolutely  and  exclusively 
churches  for  the  worship  of  God.  As  the  mediseval 
pageantry  has  passed  away,  or  shrunk  into  less  impos- 
ing forms,  the  one  object  of  worship,  Christ,  or  God  in 
Christ,  has  taken  more  full  and  absolute  possession  of 
the  edifice.  Where  the  service  is  more  simple,  as  in 
our  York,  Durham,  or  Westminster,  or  even  where  the 
old  faith  prevails,  in  Cologne,  in  Antwerp,  in  Strasbui^ 
in  Rheims,  in  Bourges,  in  Rouen,  it  has  become  more 
popular,  less  ecclesiastical:   everywhere  the  priest  is 


ChjlP.VUL    symbols  OF  GOTHIC  ARCHITECTUBK  451 

now,  according  to  the  common  sentiment,  more  the 
Minister,  less  the  half-divinized  Mediator*  And  thus 
all  that  is  the  higher  attribute  and  essence  of  Christian 
architecture  retains  its  nobler,  and,  in  the  fullest  sense, 
its  religious  power.  The  Gothic  cathedral  can  hardly 
be  contemplated  without  awe,  or  entered  without  devo- 
tion. 


462  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

CHRISTIAN  SCULPTURE. 

During  almost  all  this  pericMl  Christian  Sculpture 
ohrifltiaa  ^*^  accessary,  or  rather  subsidiary  to  archi- 
Beoiptore.  tccture.  The  use  of  Statues  was  to  ornament 
and  enrich  the  building.  In  her  Western  conquests, 
under  Justinian,  Constantinople  sent  back  no  sculptors; 
only  architects  with  her  domes,  and  her  Greek  cross, 
and  her  splendid  workers  in  mosaic.  The  prodigality 
with  which  Constantine,  as  Rome  of  old,  despoiled  the 
world  to  adorn  his  new  city  with  ancient  works  of 
sculpture,  put  to  shame,  it  should  seem,  rather  than 
awoke  the  emulation  of  Christian  Art.  We  have  seen 
Constantine  usurp  the  form,  the  attributes,  even  the 
statue  of  Apollo.^  We  have  heard  even  Theodosios 
do  homage  to  art,  and  spare  statues  of  heathen  deities 
for  their  exquisite  workmanship.  Christian  historians. 
Christian  poets,  lavish  all  their  eloquence,  and  all  their 
glowing  verse  on  the  treasures  of  ancient  art.  They 
describe  with  the  utmost  admiration  the  gods,  the  myth- 
ological personages,  those  especially  that  crowded  the 
baths   of  Zeuxippus ;  ^    which   perished  with  the  old 


^  HistoTy  of  Christianitj,  vol.  ii.  p.  408;  iii.  484.    The  whole  paaMge. 

'  Cedrenus,  ▼.  i.  p.  648,  Ed.  Bonn.  The  Ecphrasis  of  Christodoms,  is  a 
Poem,  for  its  age,  of  much  spirit  and  heaaty.  See  espedalljr  the  deaorip- 
lions  of  Hecaha  and  of  Homer.  —  Jacohe,  Anthologia. 


Chap.  IX.  CHRISTIAN  SCULPTURE.  458 

Church  of  St.  Sophia  in  the  &tal  conflagration  in  the 
fifth  year  of  Justinian.  In  the  Lausus  stood  the  unri- 
valled Cnidian  Venus  of  Praxiteles  ;  the  Samian  Juno 
of  Lysippus;^  the  ivory  Jove  of  Phidias.  The  whole 
city  was  thronged  with  statues  of  the  Emperors  and 
their  Queens,  of  Constantine,  Theodosius,  Valentinian, 
Arcadius,  and  Honorius,  Justinian,  Leo,  Theodora, 
Pulcheria,  Eudocia.^  It  is  even  said  that  there  were 
marble  statues  of  Arius,  Macedonius,  Sabellius,  and 
Eunomius,  which  were  exposed  to  filthy  indignities  by 
the  orthodox  Theodosius.^  It  appears  not  how  far. 
Sculpture  had  dared  to  embody  in  brass  or  in  marble 
the  hallowed  and  awfiil  objects  of  Christian  worship. 
It  should  seem  indeed  that  the  Iconoclastic  Emperors 
found  statues,  and  those  statues  objects  of  adoration,  to 
war  upon.  Though  in  the  word  Iconoclast,  the  image- 
breaker,  the  word  for  image  is  ambiguous ;  still  the 
breaking  seems  to  imply  something  more  destructive 
than  the  eflPacing  pictures,  or  picking  out  mosaics  :  it  is 
the  dashing  to  pieces  something  hard  and  solid.  This 
controversy  in  the  second  Nicene  Council  comprehends 
images  of  brass  or  stone ;  one  of  the  perpetual  prece- 
dents is  the  statue  of  the  Redeemer  said  to  have  been 
raised  at  Paneas  in  Syria.*  The  carved  symbolic  im- 
ages of  the  Jewish  ark  are  constantly  alleged.^  Those 
are  accursed  who  compare  the  images  of  the  Lord  and 


1  So  at  least  says  Cedrenns,  p.  564. 

3  All  these  will  be  found  in  the  description  of  Constantinople  bj  Petnu 
Gyllios.    The  work  was  translated  by  John  Ball,  London,  1729. 

s  Gjllios,  b.  ii.  c.  xxiii. 

<  Act  Concil.  Nicen.  ii.  a.  d.  737,  Mpiavri  r^  Xpurru.  It  was  said  to 
have  been  raised  by  the  woman  cured  of  an  issue  of  blood,  p.  14;  ianfoav 
ik  Kid  eUova  —  of  a  certain  Saint  in  an  oratory,  p.  23. 

•  The  Sculptilia  in  the  Old  Testament,  p.  46. 


454  LATIN  CHEISTIAKITT.  Book  XIY. 

of  the  Saints  to  the  statues  of  Satanic  Idols.^  If  we 
worship  stones  as  Gods,  how  do  we  worship  the  Mar- 
tyrs and  Apostles  who  broke  down  and  destroyed  id<^ 
dP  stone?*  The  homage  paid  to  the  statues  of  the 
Elmperors  was  constantly  nrged  to  repel  the  accusation 
of  idolatry.  Tet  probably  statnes  which  represented 
objects  of  Christian  worship  were  extremely  rare ;  and 
when  Image-worship  was  restored,  what  may  be  called 
its  song  of  victory,  is  silent  as  to  Sculptures  :*  the  Lord, 

'  1  Those  are  anaShemiitixed  —  ttv  eiKOva  -roi)  Kvpiov  uH  ruv  ^iuv  airoB 
6ftOiuc  Toec  AoavoiCTuv  Zaravuajv  ddulXuv  bvoftueccmac '  otnruc  «ai 
J[ytac  eUovmc  rdf  he  xp^'t'OTuv  koL  fiffAc  kqI  hipoQ  i'hn  hnn/deiuc  ^JC^ 
oj^  hf  rate  dyintf  tw  Beoo  kukkqaiaic,  iv  Upoic  ameoi  koI  £01^901  roijcatg 
re  Koi  aaviaip,  oLukc  re  xai  6do£(,  p.  37S.  In  this  minnte  enmnentioii  tha 
fixst  most  be  statnes.  The  letter  of  Taiasius  is  less  clear:  it  mentions  <mi1^ 
painting,  raosaies,  waxen  taWets,  and  amndef. 

'  £/  rode  JUdouc  uc  ^codf  do^d^iu  (if  I  give  really  divine  worship  to  theaa 
stones,  as  I  am  accused)  kus  riftu  xal  npooKwit  rove  fwpTvpac  tkot  ^iroeroXmif 
otnrrpiilMtvTag  kol  diro^oovroc  rii  Xidtva  ^udta ; — The  address  of  Leontios, 
p.4S. 

*  See  the  Poem  in  the  Anthologia  {xpumamKa  'EntYpdftfiara),  Jaoote 
i88. 

iXofipev  uktIc  rpc  aXi/deiac  iMtv 

Mat  rdf  Kopac  9fi/3Aan«  twv  itevdif/opuv  * 

^h^tv  eifaefieia,  ireirruKe  nXavif  • 

Kol  martf  av^d,  km  vXarifvcTai  xop^C' 

1(ViC  yup  <w^  Xpurrdc  dxavufftivof 

Kot  rdf  OKorecvdc  alpeauc  hfarphm, 
Ttc  daodov  6*  incep^tv,  u(-  dda  irv^, 
onjXoypa^Taij  lud  ^iXa^,  ^  irapdivoCf 
6va^  ik  Kol  npoedpoSy  uc  irXavorpoini 
a^  roif  avvepyoic  loropovvTai  vh/aiev  * 
kukX^  a  mnndc  o2a  fpovpti  rw  dofiav, 
voic  (Angeli)  ^Mt^i^ra^,  /tiprvptc,  dv^niXo^ 
Mev  tuJiovftev  XpurnnpikXivav  viop, 
rh^  nfiv  Xajcovra  c^tfeuf  xP^*^f^^H<''^9 
if  r&v  ^pawov  ixcvra  H^motov  Kwpia9, 
X^Mtrrav  <Se  fonv^t  X/MOTonTpvjunr  rvirovc 
Kol  Tov  ao^cvpyov  BCq^X  r^v  dxovo. 


Chap.  IX.  SCULPTURE  PROSCRIBED  BY  THE  GREEKS.  465 

the  Virgin,  the  Angels,  Saints,  Martyrs,  Priesthood, 
take  their  place  over  the  portal  entrance ;  but  shining 
in  colors  to  blind  the  eyes  of  the  heretics.  To  the 
keener  perception  of  the  Greeks  there  may  have  arisen 
a  feeling  that  in  its  more  rigid  and  solid  form  the  Image 
was  more  near  to  the  Idol.  At  the  same  time,  the  art 
of  Sculpture  and  casting  in  bronze  was  probably  more 
degenerate  and  out  of  use ;  at  all  events,  it  was  too 
slow  and  laborious  to  supply  the  demand  of  triumphant 
2seal  in  the  restoration  of  the  persecuted  Images.  There 
was  therefore  a  tacit  compromise ;  nothing  appeared 
but  painting,  mosaics,  engraving  on  cups  and  chalices, 
embroider}'  on  vestments.  The  renunciation  of  Sculp- 
ture grew  into  a  rigid  passionate  aversion.  chriBtum 
The  Greek  at  length  learned  to  contemplate  ?JSjJri^ 
that  kind  of  more  definite  and  full  represen-  "  ****  ■"*• 
tation  of  the  Deity  or  the  Saints  with  the  aversion  of 
a  Jew  or  a  Mohammedan.'  Yet  some  admiration  for 
ancient  Sculpture  of  heathen  objects  lingered  behind 
in  the  Grecian  mind.  In  his  vehement  and  bitter 
lamentation  over  the  destruction  of  all  the  beautiful 
works  of  bronze  by  the  Crusaders  in  the  Latin  Con- 
quest of  Constantinople,  Nicetas  is  not  content  with 

This  was  Michael  the  Drunkard,  son  of  Theodora  (Jacobs's  Note.)  Com- 
pare vol.  ii.  p.  141.  Was  the  Painting  of  Michael  the  Archangel,  celebrate 
od  in  two  other  Epigrams,  erected  on  this  occasion?  —  (Pp.  12, 13.) 

i  fjtera  roXft^etc  Kripbg  u.Tten'kdaaTO  * 

ot&e  ik  TtxyR 
XpofMoi  icopi&fuvaai  r^v  ^pev6(  Ueoi^. 

1  Nicephoms  Critopulos,  a  late  writer,  says,  tovtuv  oIk  elKOvai  ^  kuK^ata 

.kmUi  ob  yhfirrac  obde  Tua^tindj;  aXA«  ypairrit^  (lovov^  quoted  in  Suicer,  who 

speaks  justly  of  "  Imagines  sculptas  et  excisas,  ipsiusque  Dei  representa- 

tiones  apud  Grsecos  etiamnum  ignotas."    The  exquisite  nmaW  carvings  in 

ivory  were  permitted  seemingly  in  all  ages  of  Byzantine  art. 


456  LATIN  CHRISTIANmr.  Book  XIV. 

branding  the  avarice  which  cast  all  these  wonderftil 
statues  into  the  melting-pot  to  turn  them  into  money ; 
he  denounces  the  barbarians  as  dead  to  eveiy  sense  of 
beauty,^  who  remorselessly  destroyed  the  colossal  Juno, 
the  equestrian  Bellerophon,  the  Hercules ;  as  regardless 
of  the  proud  reminiscences  of  old  Rome,  they  melted 
th(i  swine  and  the  wolf  which  suckled  Romulus  and 
Remus,  and  the  ass  with  its  driver  set  up  by  Augustas 
after  the  battle  of  Actium  ;  they  feared  not  to  seize  the 
magic  eagle  of  Apollonius  of  Tyana.  Even  the  ex- 
quisite Helen,  who  set  the  world  in  arms,  notwithstand* 
ing  her  unrivalled  beauty  and  her  fame,  touched  not, 
and  did  not  soften  those  iron-hearted,  those  unlettered 
savages,  who  could  not  read,  who  had  never  heard  of 
Homer.*"* 

The  West  might  seem  to  assert  its  more  bold  and 
Sculpture  frcc  imago-worship  by  its  unrestrained  and 
West.  prodigal  display  of  religious  sculpture  ;  still  it 

was  mostly  sculpture  decorative,  or  forming  an  integral 
part  of  Architecture.  It  was  not  the  ordinary  occupar 
tion  of  Sculpture  to  furnish  the  beautiftil  single  statue 
of  marble  or  of  bronze.  Rome  had  no  succession  of 
Emperors,  whose  attribute  and  privilege  it  was  to  a  late 
period  in  Constantinople  to  have  their  image  set  up  for 
the  homage  of  the  people,  and  so  to  keep  alive  the  art 
of  carving  marble  or  casting  bronze.  But  gradually  in 
the  Romanesque,  as  in  the  later  Gothic  Architecture, 

^  Nicetas  Choniata  de  Signis^  ol  tov  koXov  avipaaroi  oOm  fiapfiapoi 
Some  called  the  equestrian  Bellerophon  Joshua  the  Son  of  Nun.  This  is 
remarkable. 

*  Of  Helen  he  ftajs  —  dp*  kfietXt^e  rove  dvofui^icnvc;  ip*  kftaX&a^e  rove 

etdijpo^povac ; aXkuc  re  mv  napd,  dypaftfJUiTot/c  ^op^opoic  xal  re- 

Xeov  avak^^ffToi/s  6vayv6atc  Kol  ypCtaic  tuv  hrl  mi  pmjfwdi/damjy  bcdpu^ 
hruv ;  —  Edit.  Bonn.,  p.  863. 


Chap.  IX.  SCULPTURE  IN  THE  WEST.  457 

the  west  firont  of  the  Churches  might  seem,  as  it  were, 
the  chosen  place  for  sacred  Images.  Not  merely  did 
the  Saviour  and  the  Virgin  appear  as  the  Gruardian 
Deities  over  the  portal,  gradually  the  Host  of  Heaven, 
Angels,  Apostles,  Martyrs,  Evangelists,  Saints  spread 
oyer  the  whole  fa9ade.  They  stood  on  pedestals  or  in 
niches ;  reliefi  more  or  less  high  found  their  panels  in 
the  walls ;  the  heads  of  the  portal  arches  were  carved 
in  rich  designs ;  the  semicircle  more  or  less  round  or 
pointed,  ahove  the  level  line  of  the  door,  was  crowded 
with  sacred  scenes,  or  figures.  But  in  all  these,  as  in 
other  statues  if  such  there  were,  within  the  Churches, 
Christian  modesty  required  that  human  or  divinized 
figures  must  be  fully  clad.  Sculpture,  whose  essence 
is  form,  found  the  naked  human  figure  almost  under 
proscription.  There  remained  nothing  for  the  sculp- 
tor's art  but  the  attitude,  the  countenance,  and  the 
more  or  less  graceful  fall  of  the  drapery ;  all  this  too, 
in  strict  subordination  to  the  architectural  efiect ;  with 
this  he  must  be  content,  and  not  aspire  to  centre  on 
himself  and  his  work  the  admiring  and  long  dwelling 
eye.^  The  Sculptor,  in  general,  instead  of  the  votary 
and  master  of  a  high  and  independent  art,  became  the 
workman  of  the  architect ;  a  step  or  two  higher  than 
the  carver  of  the  capital,  the  moulding,  the  knosp,  or 
the  finial.^  In  some  respects  the  progress  of  Gothic, 
though  it  multiplied  images  to  infinity,  was  unfavora- 

1  Even  of  the  Crucifix  Schnaase  has  jastlj  said,  **  Gleichzeitig  andertc 
sich  anch  die  Tracht  des  Gekreuzigten ;  die  lange  Tunica,  welche  friiher 
den  Korper  ganz  verhiillte,  wird  schon  in  12  Jahr.  kurzer,  im  13  und  noch 
allgemeiner  in  14  vertritt  ein  Schurz  um  die  Hiifte  ihre  Stelle/* — iv.  p. 
890. 

*  It  is  to  be  obeerved  tiiat  the  Statues  were  only  intended  to  be  seen  in 
front. 


458  LATIN  CHBISTIAKITY.  Book  XIT- 

ble;  as  the  niches  became  loftier  and  naxrower,  the 
Saints  rose  to  disproportionate  stature,  shrank  to 
meagre  gracilitj,  they  became  ghosts  in  long  shroads. 
Sometimes  set  on  high  upon  pinnacles,  or  crowded 
in  hosts  as  at  Milan,  thejr  lost  all  distinctness,  and 
were  absolutely  nothing  more  than  architectural  om«r- 
ments. 

All,  no  doubt,  even  as  regards  sculptural  exceUeuce, 
is  not  equally  rude,  barbarous,  or  barren.  So  many 
artists  could  not  be  employed,  even  under  conveatioaal 
restrictions,  on  subjects  so  suggestive  of  high  and  sol- 
emn emotion,  men  themselves  under  deep  devotional 
feelings,  without  communicating  to  the  hard  stone  some 
of  their  own  conceptions  of  majesty,  awAilness,  seren- 
ity, grace,  beauty.  The  sagacious  judgment  among  the 
crowds  of  figures  in  front  of  our  Cathedrals  may  discern 
some  of  the  nobler  attributes  of  Sculpture,  dignity,  ex- 
pression, skilful  and  flowing  disposition  of  drapeiy,  even 
while  that  judgment  is  not  prompted  and  kindled  by 
reverential  religiousness,  as  is  often  the  case,  to  imagine 
that  in  the  statue  which  is  in  the  man's  own  mind. 
In  the  reliefs,  if  there  be  more  often  confusion,  gro- 
tesqueness,  there  is  not  seldom  vigor  and  distinctness, 
skilful  grouping,  an  artistic  representation  of  an  impres- 
sive scene.  The  animals  are  almost  invariably  hard, 
conventional  emblems  not  drawn  from  nature ;  but  the 
human  figure,  if  without  anatomical  precision,  mostly 
unnecessary  when  so  amply  swathed  in  drapery,  in  its 
outline  and  proportions  is  at  times  nobly  developed. 
Yet,  on  the  whole,  the  indulgence  usually  claimed  and 
readily  conceded  for  the  state  of  art  at  the  period,  is  in 
itself  the  unanswerable  testimony  to  its  imperfection 
and  barbarism.     Christian  Sculpture  must  produce,  as 


Chap.  DC.  ARCHITECTURAL  SCUUTURE.  469 

it  did  afterwards  produce,  something  greater,  with  John 
of  Bologna  and  Michael  Angelo,  or  it  must  be  content 
to  leave  to  heathen  Greece  the  uncontested  supremacy 
in  this  wonderful  art.     Sculpture,  in  truth,  must  learn 
from  ancient  art  those  elementary  lessons  which  Chris- 
tianity could  not  teach,  which  it  dared  not,  or  would  not 
venture  to  teach ;  it  must  go  back  to  Greece  for  that 
revelation  of  the  inexhaustible  beauties  of  the  human 
form  which  had  long  been  shrouded  from  the  eyes  of 
men.     The  anthropomorphism  of  the  Greeks  grew  out 
of,  and  at  the  same  time  fully  developed  the  physical 
perfection  of  the  human  body.     That  j^erfection  was 
the  model,  the  ideal  of  the  Sculptor.     The  gods  in  stat- 
ure, force,  majesty,  proportion,  beauty,  were  but  super- 
human men.     To  the  Christian  there  was  still  some 
disdain  of  the  sensual  perishable  body ;  with  monasti- 
cism,  that   disdain   grew  into  contempt;    it  must  be 
abased,  macerated,  subdued.     The  utmost  beauty  which 
it  could  be  allowed  was  patience,  meekness,  gentlen&ss, 
lowliness.      To  the  fully  developed  athlete  succeeded 
the  emaciated  saint.     The  man  of  sorrows,  the  form 
"of  the  servant,"  still  lingered  in  the  Divine  Redeemer; 
the  Saint  must  be  glorified  in  meekness;  the  Martyr 
must  still  bear  the  sign  and  expression  of  his  humilia- 
tion.    The  whole  age  might  seem  determined  to  dis- 
guise and  conceal,  even  if  not  to  debase,  the  human 
form,  the  Sculptor's  proper  domain  and   study,  in  its 
free  vigorous  movement  or  stately  tranquillity.     The 
majestic  Prelate  was  enveloped   in   his   gorgeous  and 
cumbrous  habiliments,  which  dazzled  with  their  splen- 
dor;  the  strong,  tall,  noble  Knight  was  sheathed  in 
steel ;   even  the  Monk  or  Friar  was  swathed   in  •  his 
coarse  ungainly  dress,  and  cowl.     Even  for  its  drar 


460  LATIN  CHMSTIANITY.  BookXIF. 

peries   reviving  Sculpture  must  go  back  to  the  an- 
tique. 

There  was  oue  branch,  however,  of  the  art —  Monu- 
Monumentai  cental  Sculpturc — which  assumed  a  peculiar 
Sculpture,  character  and  importance  under  Christianity, 
and  aspired  to  originality  and  creativeness.  Even 
Monumental  Sculpture,  in  the  Middle  Ages,  was  in 
some  degree  architectural.  The  tomb  upon  which,  the 
canopy  under  which,  lay  the  King,  the  Bishop,  or  the 
Knight,  or  the  Lady,  was  as  careiully  and  as  elaborately 
wrought  as  the  slumbering  image.  In  the  repose,  in 
the  expression  of  serene  sleep,  in  the  lingering  majesty, 
gentleness,  or  holiness  of  countenance  of  these  effigies 
there  is  often  singular  beauty.^  Repose  is  that  in 
which  Sculpture  delights  ;  the  repose,  or  the  collapsing 
into  rest,  of  a  superhuman  being,  after  vigorous  exer- 
tion ;  nothing,  therefore,  could  be  more  exquisitely 
suited  to  the  art  than  the  peace  of  the  Christian  sleep- 
ing after  a  weary  life,  sleeping  in  conscious  immortality, 
sleeping  to  awake  to  a  calm  and  joyful  resurrection. 
Even  the  drapery,  for  Sculpture  must  here,  above  all, 
submit  to  conceal  the  form  in  drapery,-  is  at  rest.  Bat 
Monumental  Sculpture  did  not  confine  itself  to  the  sin- 
gle j*ecumbent  figure.  Tlie  first  great  Christian  Scalp* 
tor,  Nicolo  Pisano,  in  the  former  part  of  the  14th 
century,  showed  his  earliest  skill  and  excellence  in  the 
relie&  round  the  tomb  of  St.  Dominic  at  Bologna.^     It 


1  Among  the  noble9t  tombs  in  Italy  are  that  of  Benedict  XI.  at  Pemgia, 
by  John,  son  of  Nicolo  Pisano;  of  Gregory  X.,  by  Margaritone,  at  Arezso; 
of  John  XXIII.,  at  Florence,  by  Dunatello.  Our  own  Cathedrals  bars 
noble  specimens  of  somewhat  ruder  work — the  Edward  III.,  Queen  Phi- 
lippa,  and  Richard  II.  in  Westminster  Abbey. 

3  See  on  Nicolo  Pisano,  Cicognara  Storia  de  Scnltura,  ▼.  Ill,  with  Am 
illnstrative  Prints.    In  Count  Cioognara's  engravings  the  transition  ftoB 


CiiAP.  IX.  MONUMENTAL  SCULPTURE.  461 

is  remarkable  that  the  first  great  Chiistian  Sculptor  was 
a  distinguished  architect.  Nicolo  Pisano  had  manifestly 
studied  at  Rome  and  elsewhere  the  remains  of  ancient 
art ;  they  guide  and  animate,  but  only  guide  and  ani- 
mate his  bold  and  vigorous  chisel.  Christian  in  form 
and  sentiment,  some  of  his  figures  have  all  the  grace 
and  ease  of  Grecian  Art.  Nicolo  Pisano  stood,  indeed, 
alone  almost  as  much  in  advance  of  his  successors,  as  of 
those  who  had  gone  before.^  Nor  did  Nicolo  Pisano 
confine  himself  to  Monumental  Sculpture.  The  spa- 
cious pulpits  began  to  offer  panels  which  might  be 
well  filled  up  with  awful  admonitory  reliefs.  In  those 
of  Pisa  and  Sienna  the  master,  in  others  his  disciples 
and  scholars,  displayed  their  vigor  and  power.  There 
was  one  scene  which  permitted  them  to  reveal  the  naked 
form — the  Last  Judgment.  Men,  women,  rose  miclad 
from  their  tombs.  And  it  is  singular  to  remark  how 
Nicolo  Pisano  seized  all  that  was  truly  noble  and  sculp- 
tural. The  human  form  appears  in  infinite  variety  of 
bold  yet  natural  attitude,  without  the  grotesque  distor- 
tions, without  the  wild  extravagances,  the  writhing,  the 
shrinking  from  the  twisting  serpents,  the  torturing 
fiends,  the  monsters  preying  upon  the  vitals.  Nicolo 
wrought  before  Dante,  and  maintained  the  sobriety  of 
his  art.  •  Later  Sculpture  and  Painting  must  aspire 
to  represent  all  that  Poetry  had  represented,  and  but 


the  earliest  masters  to  Nicolo  Pisano,  is  to  be  transported  to  another  age,  tc 
overleap  centuries. 

I  Count  Cicognara  writes  thus :  all  that  I  have  seen,  and  all  the  Count's 
Qlastrations,  confirm  his  judgment:  —  Tutto  ci6  che  lo  aveva  proceduto 
era  multo  al  di  sotto  de  lui,  e  per  elevarsi  ad  un  tratto  fh  forza  d'  un  genio 
straordinario,  p.  223.  E  le  opere  degli  scolari  di  Niccolo  ci  sembreranno 
talvolta  della  mano  de  snoi  predecessori,  p.  234.  Guilds  of  Sculpture  now 
arose  at  Sienna  and  elsewhere.       * 


462  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

imperfectly  represented  in  words:  it  must  illustrate 
Dante. 

But  in  the  first  half  of  the  fifteenth  centuiy,  during 
the  Popedom  of  Eugenius  and  Nicolas  V.,  Sculpture 
broke  loose  firom  its  architectural  servitude,  and  with 
DonatellO)  and  with  Bnmelleschi  (if  Bmnelleschi  had 
not  turned  aside  and  devoted  himself  exclusively  to 
architectural  art)  even  with  Ghiberti,  asserted  its  dig- 
nity and  independence  as  a  creative  art.^  The  Evange- 
list or  the  Saint  began  to  stand  alone  trusting  to  his 
own  majesty,  not  depending  on  his  position  as  part  of 
an  harmonious  architectural  design.  The  St.  Mark 
and  the  St.  George  o(  Donatello  are  noble  statues,  fit 
to  take  their  place  in  the  public  squares  of  Florence. 
In  his  fine  David,  after  the  death  of  Goliath,  above  all 
in  his  Judith  and  Holofemes,  Donatello  took  a  bolder 
flight.  In  that  masterly  work  (writes  Yasari)  the 
simplicity  of  the  dress  and  countenance  of  Judith 
manifests  her  lofty  spirit  and  the  aid  of  God ;  as  in 
Holofernes  wine,  sleep,  and  death  are  expressed  in  his 
limbs ;  which,  having  lost  their  animating  spirit,  are 
cold  and  failing.  Donatello  succeeded  so  well  in  poi^ 
trait  statuary,  that  to  his  favorite  female  statue  he  said 
-^  Speak  I  speak  I  His  fame  at  Padua  was  unrivalled. 
Of  him  it  was  nobly  said,  either  Donatello  was  a  pro- 
phetic anticipation  of  Buonarotti,  or  Donatello  lived 
again  in  Buonarotti. 

Ghiberti's  great  work  was  the  gates  of  the  Bap- 

l  Donatello  born  1S83,  died  1466;  Bninelleschi  1896;  Ghiberti  1378,  died 
1455.  I  ought  perhaps  to  have  added  Jacobo  della  Quercia,  who  worked 
rather  earlier  at  Bologna  and  Sienna.  Read  in  Vasari  the  carious  cootaai 
between  Donatello  and  Brunelleiichi,  in  which  Donatello  owned  that  while 
himself  made  an  unrivalled  Contadioo,  BraneUeachi  made  a  Christ.  See 
Yasari  on  the  works  of  Donatello.         r 


Chap.  EX.  MONUMENTAL  SCULPTURE.  468 

firtery  at  Florence,  deserving,  in  Michael  Angelo's 
phrase,  to  be  called  the  Gates  of  Heaven ;  and  it  was 
from  their  copiousness,  felicity,  and  unrivalled  sculp-, 
tural  designs,  that  these  gates  demanded  and  obtained 
their  fame. 


464  LATIN  CHBISTIANITT.  Book  ZIV. 


CHAPTER    X. 

CHRISTIAN  PAINTINO. 

Painting,  which,  with  architecture  and  music,  at- 
GhTistiui  tained  its  perfect  and  consummate  excellence 
^^**^*  under  the  influence  of  Latin  Christianity,  had 
jet  to  await  the  century  which  followed  the  pontificate 
of  Nicolas  V.  before  it  culminated,  through  Francia 
and  Perugino,  in  Michael  Angelo,  Leonardo,  RaffiieQe, 
Correggio,  and  Titian.  It  received  only  its  first  in»- 
pulse  from  mediaeval  Christianity;  its  perfection  was 
simultaneous  with  the  revival  of  classical  letters  and 
ancient  art.  Religion  had  in  a  great  degree  to  contest 
the  homage,  even  of  its  greatest  masters,  with  a  dan- 
gerous rival.  Some  few  only  of  its  noblest  professors 
were  at  that  time  entirely  faithful  to  Christian  art. 
But  all  these,  as  well  as  the  second  Teutonic  school, 
Albert  Diu^r  and  his  followers,  are  beyond  oar 
bounds.^ 

Of  the  great  Epochs  of  Painting,  therefore,  two 

^  It  were  unwise  and  presamptuoos  (since  oar  sanrey  here  also  most  be 
brief  and  rapid)  to  enter  into  the  artistic  and  antiquarian  questions  which 
have  been  agitated  and  discussed  with  so  much  knowledge  and  indnstrr  bj- 
modem  writers,  especially  (thouf^h  I  would  not  pass  over  Lanzi,  still  lev 
the  new  Annotated  Edition  of  Vasari)  by  the  Ban«  Rumohr  (ItaiienisclM 
Forschungen),  my  friend  M.  Rio  (Art  Chretien),  by  Kugler  and  hb  all- 
accomplished  Translators,  and  by  Lord  Lindsay  (Christian  Art).  In  wtj 
summary  I  shall  endeavor  to  indicate  the  sooroes  from  irtiieh  it  can  be 
amplified  Justified,  or  filled  up. 


Obap.X  CHSISTIAN  PAINTmCL  466 

only,  prepw^&ry  to  the  Perfect  Age,  belong  to  our 
present  history:  I.  That  which  is  called  (I  cannot 
but  think  too  exclusively)  the  Byzantine  period ;  IL 
That  initiatory  Inranch  of  Italian  art  which  I  will  yen«- 
ture  to  name,  from  the  subjects  it  chose,  the  buildings 
which  it  chiefly  adorned,  and  the  profession  of  many 
of  the  best  masters  who  practised  it,  the  Cloistral 
epoch.  The  second  period  reached  its  height  in  Fra 
Angelico  da  Fiesole.^ 

It  is  impossible  to  doubt  that  Painting,  along  with 
the  conservation  of  some  of  its  technical  processes,  and 
with  some  traditionary  forms,  and  the  conventional  rep- 
resentation of  certain  scenes  in  the  Scriptural  History 
or  in  Legends,  preserved  certain  likenesses,  as  they 
were  thought  to  be,  of  the  Saviour  and  his  Apostles 
and  Martyrs,  designated  by  fixed  and  determinate  line- 
aments, as  well  as  by  their  symbolical  attributes.  The 
paintings  in  the  Catacombs  at  Rome  show  such  forms 
and  countenances  in  almost  unbroken  descent  till  near- 
ly two  centuries  after  the  conversion  of  Constantine.^ 
The  history  of  Iconoclasm  has  recorded  how  such  pic- 
tures were  in  the  East  religiously  defended,  religiously 

1  Bom  1387  —  became  a  Dominican  1407. 

3  Mach  has  been  done  during  the  last  few  years  in  the  Catacombs.  The 
great  French  Publication,  by  M.  Louis  Ferret,  is  beautiful ;  if  it  be  as  true 
as  beautiful,  by  some  inexplicable  means,  some  of  the  paintings  have  be- 
come infinitely  more  distinct  and  brilliant,  since  I  saw  them  some  thirty 
years  ago.  It  is  unfortunate  that  the  passion  for  early  art,  and  polemic 
passion,  are  so  busy  in  discovering  what  they  are  determined  to  find,  that 
flober,  historical,  and  artistic  criticism  is  fairly  bewildered.  There  are  two 
important  questions  yet  to  be  settled :  when  did  the  Catacombs  cease  to  be 
places  of  burial?  (what  is  the  date  of  the  later  cemeteries  of  Rome?) 
when  did  the  Catacomb  Chapels  cease  to  be  places  not  of  public  worship, 
but  of  fervent  private  devotion  ?  To  the  end  of  that  period,  whenever  it 
was,  Uiey  would  continue  to  be  embellished  by  art,  and  therefore  the  diffi- 
culty of  affixing  dates  to  works  of  art  is  increased. 

VOL.  VIII.  80 


466  LATm  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

• 

destroyed,  religiously  restored ;  how  the  West,  in  de- 
fiance, as  it  were,  and  contempt  of  the  impious  perse- 
cutor, seemed  to  take  a  new  impulse,  and  the  Popes 
of  the  Iconoclastic  age  lavished  large  sums  on  deconiF* 
tions  of  their  churches  by  paintings,  if  not  by  sculp- 
ture.    No  doubt,  also,  many  monk-artists  fled  from  the 
sacrilegious  East  to  practise  their  holy  art  in  the  safe 
and  quiet  West.     Even  a  century  or  more  before  this, 
it  is  manifest  that  Justinian's  conquest  of  Italy,  as  it 
brought    the   Byzantine    form   of  architecture,   so    it 
brought   the  Byzantine   skill,  the  modes   and  usages 
of  the   subsidiary  art.      The   Byzantine   painting  of 
that  age  lives  in  the  mosaics  (the  more  durable  process 
of  that,  in  all  its  other  forms,  too  perishable  art)  on  the 
walls  of  the  Church  of  San  Vitale,  and  in  St.  Apol- 
linaris,  in  Ravenna,  and  in  other  Italian  cities  under 
Greek  influence.     These  mosaics  maintain  the  indefea- 
sible character  ^  of  Greek  Christianity.     The  vast,  ma- 
jestic image  of  the  Saviour  broods  indeed  over  the  place 
of  honor,  above  the  high  altar;  but  on  the  chancel- 
walls,  within  the  Sanctuary,  are  on  one  side  the  Em- 
peror, Theodora  on  the  other,  not  Saints  or  Martyrs, 
not  Bishops  or  Popes.     It  cannot  be  argued,  from  the 
survival  of  these  more  lasting  works,  that  mosaic  pre- 
dominated over  other  modes  of  painting,  either  in  Con- 
stantinople or  in  the  Byzantinized  parts  of  the  West* 
But  as  it  was  more  congenial  to  the  times,  being  a 
work  more  technical  and  mechanical,  so  no  doubt  it 
tended  to  the  hard,  stiff,  conventional  forms  which  in 
general  characterize  Byzantine  art,  as  well  as  to  their 
perpetuity.     The  traditions  of  painting  lived  on.     The 

^  On  the  MoHUcs  of  Leo  lU.,  Anastaaiiu  in  vit.  compare  Sdmaaae,  Bil> 
dende  Kunst,  iii.  p.  605. 


Chap.X.  christian  PAINTING.  467 

descriptions  of  the  paintings  on  the  walls  of  the  Ro- 
mans^ by  the  poets  of  the  fourth  or  fifth  centuries  bear 
striking  resemblance  to  those  of  the  poets  of  Charle- 
ma<me  and  Louis  the  Pious,  of  the  works  which 
adorned  Aix-la-Chapelle  and  the  Palace  of  Ingelheim. 
How  far,  during  all  this  period,  it  was  old  Roman  art, 
or  Roman  art  modified  by  Byzantine  influences,  may 
seem  a  question  unimportant  to  general  history,  and 
probably  incapable  of  a  full  solution.  We  must  con- 
fine ourselves  to  that  which  is  specially  and  exclusively 
Christian  art. 

Of  all  Christian  painting  during  this  long  period, 
from  the  extinction  of  Paganism  to  the  rise  of  Italian 
art  (its  first  dawn  at  the  beginning  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury, brightening  gradually  to  the  time  of  Nicolas  V.), 
the  one  characteristic  is  that  its  object  was  worship, 
not  art.  It  was  a  mute  preaching,  which  addressed 
not  the  refined  and  intelligent,  but  the  vulgar  of  all 
ranks.^     Its  utmost  aim  was  to  awaken  religious  emo- 

1  In  the  Castle  Villa  of  Pontins  Leontius  on  the  Garonne,  in  the  venea 
of  Sidonias  Apollonius,  Carm.  xxii.,  were  painted  on  one  part  scenes  from 
the  Mithridatic  war  waged  by  Lucullus ;  on  the  other  the  opening  Chap- 
ters of  the  Old  Testament.  Recutitorum  primordia  Jndaeorum.  Sidonias 
seems  to  have  been  surprised  at  the  splendor  and  duration  of  the  colors : 

Perpetaum  pictura  mlcat,  nee  tempore  longo 
Depreoiata  suas  turpant  pigmenta  flguras.  — 0.  202. 

Fortunatus  mentions  wood-carving  as  rivalling  painting, 

Qnos  pietura  Bolet,  llgna  dedere  jocoa. 

See  Eimondus  Nigellus,  for  the  paintings  at  Ingelheim. 
'  See  the  Greek  Epigram  on  the  painting  of  Michael  the  Archangel. 

ic  voepi^  avayei  fof^ariv  hnvpm^iuv, 

Jacobs,  p.  14. 
This  whole  series  of  Epigrams  was  inscribed,  no  doubt,  either  mider 
paintings,  or  under  illuminations  in  MSS. 


468  lATDT   GHRISTIANnT.  Book  XIV. 

tion,  to  suggest  religious  thought.  It  was  therefore — 
more,  no  doubt,  in  the  East  than  in  the  West  —  rigidly 
traditional,  conventional,  hierarchical.  Each  farm  had 
its  special  type,  from  which  it  was  dangerous,  at  length 
forbidden  to  depart  Each  scene,  with  its  grou[>ing  and 
arrangement,  was  consecrated  by  long  reverence ;  the 
artist  worked  in  the  trammels  of  usage ;  he  had  faith- 
fully to  transmit  to  others  that  which  he  had  received, 
and  no  more.  Invention  was  proscribed ;  novelty 
might  incur  the  suspicion  almost  of  heresy  —  at  all 
events  it  would  be  an  unintelligible  language.  Sym- 
bolism without  a  key ;  it  would  either  jar  on  sacred 
associations,  or  perplex,  or  offend.^ 

From  the  earliest  period  there  had  been  two  tradi- 
tional conceptions  of  that  which  was  the  central  figure 
of  Christian, art,  the  Lord  himself.  One  represented 
the  Saviour  as  a  beautiful  youth,  beardless  —  a  purely 
ideal  image,  typical  perhaps  of  the  rejuvenescence  of 
mankind  in  Christ.'  Such  was  the  prevailing,  if  not 
the  exclusive  conception  of  the  Redeemer  in  the  West. 
In  the  East,  the  Christ  is  of  mature  age,  of  tall  stature, 
meeting  eyebrows,  beautiful  eyes,  fine-formed  nose, 
curling  hair,  figure  slightly  bowed,  of  delicate  com- 
plexion, dark  beard  (it  is  sometimes  called  wine-colored 

^  Kugler  has  Che  qaotation  from  the  Acts  of  the  Council  of  Nice,  which 
flhow  that  the  Byzantine  painters  worked  according  to  a  law,  diofioC'  But 
M.  Didron's  work,  Uanoal  d*Iconographie  Chr^tienne,  at  once  proved  the 
existence,  and  in  fact  published  this  law,  according  to  which,  in  his  vivid 
words  —  L*artiste  Grec  est  asservi  aux  traditions  comme  Tanimal  k  son  in- 
stinct, il  fait  une  figure  comme  Thirondelle  son  niU  ou  Tabeille  sa  ruche, 
p.  iv.  The  Greek  Painter's  Guide,  which  fills  the  greater  part  of  U.  Di- 
dron*B  book,  gives  all  the  rules  of  technical  procedure  and  design. 

*  Didron,  Hist,  de  Dieu,  and  a  translation  published  by  Bohn,  p.  849. 
But  compare  the  two  heads  Oom  the  Catacombs,  engraved  in  the  Transla- 
lifUl  of  Kugler.  These,  if  hoik  indetd  represent  the  Redeemer^  and  ors  pf 
Ae  period  tuppotedy  approximate  more  nearly  to  the  Eastern  type. 


chap.x.  christian  PAINTmO.  469 

beard),  his  face,  like  his  mother's,  of  the  color  of  wheat, 
long  fingers,  sonorous  voice,  and  sweet  eloquence  (how 
was  this  painted  ?),^  most  gentle,  qttiet,  long-'safFering, 
patient,  with  all  kindred  graces,  blending  the  manhood 
with  the  attributes  of  God.  In  the  fabulous  letter 
ascribed  to  Lentulus,  descriptive  of  the  person  of  the 
Redeemer,  this  conception  is  amplified  into  still  higher 
beauty.'  The  truth  seems  to  be  that  this  youthful 
Western  type  was  absolutely  and  confessedly  ideal; 
it  was  symbolic  of  the  calm,  gentle,  young,  world- 
renewing  religion.  In  one  place  the  Christ  seems 
standing  on  the  mystic  mountain  from  whence  issue 
the  four  rivers  of  Paradise,  the  Gospels  of  everlast- 
ing life.^  The  tradition  of  the  actual  likeness  was 
Eastern  (it  was  unknown  to  Augustine),  and  this  tra- 
dition in  all  its  forms,  at  the  second  Council  of  Nicea, 
and  in  the  writings  of  John  of  Damascus,  became 
historical  fact.  Though  at  that  time  there  was  not 
much   respect    for   Scripture   or  probability,   yet  the 

1  Didron,  p.  24S,  from  John  of  Damascus.  M.  Didron  has  fally  investi- 
gated the  subject,  but  with  an  utter  and  total  want  of  historical  criticism. 
He  accepts  this  controversial  tract  of  John  of  Damascus  (he  does  not  seem 
to  r^d  Greelc)  as  an  authority  for  all  the  old  Legends  of  Abgarus  oi 
Edessa,  and  the  likenesses  of  Christ  painted  or  carved  by  order  of  ConstaiH 
tine. 

3  Compare  Hist  of  Christianity,  iii.  p.  507,  for  the  translation  of  Len- 
tulus. I  am  astounded  at  finding  in  a  book  like  Kugler's  (the  English 
translation  especially  having  undergone  such  supervision)  the  assertion 
that  this  letter  of  Lentulus  may  "  possibly  be  assigned  to  the  third  cen- 
tury/' p.  12.  What  evidence  is  there  of  its  existence  before  the  ninth  or 
even  the  eleventh  century?  It  is  a  strange  argument,  the  only  one  that  I 
can  find,  that  the  description  resembles  some  of  the  earliest  so-called  Por- 
traits of  the  Saviour,  even  one  in  the  Catacombs.  It  is  dear  that  it  was 
unknown  to  the  early  Fathers,  especially  to  St.  Augustine.  If  known,  it 
must  have  been  adduced  at  the  Council  of  Nicea,  and  by  John  of  Damas- 
cus. But  even  the  fable  had  not  been  heard  of  at  that  time.  I  have  n«t 
the  least  doubt  that  it  was  a  fiction  growing  out  of  the  eontroveiBy. 

<  Didron,  p.  251.  • 


470  LATIN  CHRISTTANITY.  Book  XIV. 

yonthfol,  almost  boyish  type  of  the  Western  Charch, 
if  it  still  snrviyed,  was  so  directly  at  issue  with  the 
recorded  age  of  Jesus,  that  even  in  the  West  the  de- 
scription in  John  of  Damascus,  embellLshed  into  the 
bolder  fiction  of  Lentulns,  the  ofispring,  and  not  the 
parent  of  the  controversy,  found  general  acceptance  in 
the  West  as  in  the  East.^ 

But  the  triumph  of  Iconoclasm  had  been  a  monastic 
triumph  —  a  triumph  for  which  the  monks  had  so^ 
fered,  and  admired  each  other's  martyr  sufferings. 
Gradually  misery  and  pain  became  the  noblest,  dearest 
images ;  the  joyous  and  elevating,  if  still  lowly,  emo- 
tions of  the  older  faith,  gave  place  altogether  to  gloom, 
to  dreary  depression.  Among  one  class  of  painters, 
MonkBof  the  monks  of  St.  Basil,  there  was  a  reaction 
BimekSchodi.  to  absolute  blackucss  and  ugliness.  The 
Saviour  became  a  dismal,  macerated,  self-tortured 
monk.  Light  vanished  from  his  brow;  gentleness 
from  his  features;  calm,  serene  majesty  from  his  at- 
titude. 

Another  change,  about  the  tenth  century,  came 
Change  in  ovcr  the  image  of  the  Lord.  It  was  no 
oentory.  lougcr  the  mild  Redeemer,  but  the  temble 
Judge,  which  painting  strove  to  represent.  As  the 
prayers,  the  hymns,  gradually  declined  from  the  calm, 
if  not  jubilant  tone  of  the  earliest  Church,  the  song 
of  deliverance  from  hopeless  unawakening  death,  the 
triumph   in    the    assurance   of  eternal   life,  —  so   the 

1  Hence  too  the  Veronica,  the  vera  etKWf,  a  »in{^ilar  blending  of  Greek 
and  Latin  Action  and  language.    William  Grimm,  however,  in  bis  "  Die 
Sage  von  Ursprung  der  Christun  Bilder/*  treats  this  as  a  fancy  of  Mabil- 
Ion  and  Papebroch.    He  derives  it  firom  the  traditional  name,  fiepovuaf^  of 
the  woman  whose  issue  of  blood  was  stanched,  who  tradiiioitaOff  alio 
the  St  Veronica.  —  Beriin.  Transact.,  1843. 


Chap.  X.  MONKISH  ART.  471 

youthful  symbol  of  the  new  religion,  the  form  which 
the  Godhead,  by  its  indwelling,  beautified  and  glorified, 
the  still  meek,  if  commanding  look  of  the  Redeemer, 
altogether  disappeared,  or  ceased  to  be  the  most  ordi- 
nary and  dominant  character :  he  became  the  King  of 
tremendous  majesty,  before  whom  stood  shuddering, 
guilty,  and  resuscitated  mankind.^  The  Cross,  too,  by 
degrees,  became  the  Crucifix.'^  The  image  of  tiw  crucifix. 
the  Lord  on  the  Cross  was  at  firet  meek,  though  suffer- 
ing; pain  was  represented,  but  pain  overcome  by  pa- 
tience ;  it  was  still  a  clothed  form,  with  long  drapery. 
By  degrees  it  was  stripped  to  ghastly  nakedness ;  agony 
became  the  prevailing,  absorbing  tone.  The  intensity 
of  the  suffering  strove  at  least  to  subdue  the  sublime 
resignation  of  the  sufferer  ;  the  object  of  the  artist  was 
to  wring  the  spectator's  heart  with  fear  and  anguish, 
rather  than  to  chasten  with  quiet  sorrow  or  elevate 
with  faith  and  hope;  to  aggravate  the  sin  of  man, 
rather  than  display  the  mercy  of  God.  Painting  vied 
with  the  rude  sculpture  which  arose  in  many  quarters, 
(sculpture  more  often  in  wood  than  in  stone,)  and  by 
the  red  streaming  blood,  and  the  more  vivid  expres- 
sion of  pain  in  the  convulsed  limbs,  deepened  the  ef- 
fect ;  till,  at  last,  that  most  hideous  and  repulsive  ob- 
ject, the  painted  Crucifix,  was  offered  to  the  groaning 
worship  of  mankind.^ 

1  See  the  observations  of  Schnaase  above,  p.  599,  note. 

s  Schnaase  says  that  the  first  Byzantine  representation  of  the  Crucifix- 
ion is  in  a  Codex  of  the  time  of  Basil  the  Macedonian  (867-S86),  iii.  p. 
916. 

<  The  cnrions  and  just  observations  of  M.  Didron  should  be  home  in 
mind  in  the  History  of  Christian  Painting.  '*  Nous  dirons  h  cette  occasion, 
qu'il  n'y  aurait  rien  de  plus  int^ressant  qu'^  signaler  dans  I'ordre  chrono- 
logique  les  sujets  de  la  Bible,  du  Martyrologe,  et  de  la  Li^gende,  qiiR  les  dif- 
f(£rentes  ^poques  ont  surtout  aifectionn^.    Dans  les  catacoinbes  il  n*y  a  pas 


472  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIT. 

But  this  was  only  one  usage,  though  the  dominant 
one — one  school  of  Byzantine  art.  Painting,  both  at 
Constantinople  and  in  Italy,  was  more  true  to  its  own 
dignity,  and  to  Christianity.  It  still  strove  to  main- 
tain nobler  conceptions  of  the  God-Man,  and  to  ea^ 
body  the  Divinity  glorifying  the  flesh  in  which  it 
dwelt.  In  this  respect,  no  doubt,  the  more  durable 
form  of  the  art  would  be  highly  conservative;  pre- 
vented deeper  degeneration.  If  other  painting  might 
dare  to  abrogate  the  tradition  or  the  law,  Mosaic  would 
be  more  unable,  or  more  unwilling,  to  venture  upon 
dangerous  originality.  It  would  be  a  perpetual  protest 
against  the  encroachments  of  ugliness  and  deformity : 
its  attribute,  its  excellence  being  brilliancy,  strongly 
contrasted  diversity  and  harmony  of  rich  coloring,  it 
would  not  consent  to  darken  itself  to  a  dismal  monoto- 
ny. Yet  Mosaic  can  hardly  become  high  art ;  it  is  too 
artificial,  too  mechanical.  It  may  have,  if  wrought 
from  good  models,  an  imposing  e£Fect ;  but  the  finely- 
evanescent  outline,  the  true  magic  of  coloring,  the 
depth,  the  light  and  shade,  the  hal^tints^  the  blending 
and  melting  into  each  other  of  hues  in  their  finest  gra- 
dations, are  beyond  its  powers.  The  interlaying  of 
small  pieces  cannot  altogether  avoid  a  broken,  stippled, 
spotty  effect :  it  cannot  be  alive.  As  it  is  strong  and 
hard,  we  can  tread  it  under  foot  on  a  pavement,  and  it 
is  still  bright  as  ever :  but  in  the  church,  the  hall,  or 


une  Fc^ne  de  martyre,  mais  ane  fonle  de  aujeta  ralatift  k  la  r^nmcUiM. 
Les  Martyrs  et  lea  jugementa  demiera,  avec  lea  repr^aentatioaa  dea  anpplmn 
de  TeQfer,  abondent  pendant  le  moyen  age.  A  partir  de  la  miaiaaance  a 
nos  joan  c'eat  la  douceur,  et,  diaona  le  mot,  la  aentimentalit^,  qui  domi- 
nent;  alora  on  adopte  la  benediction  des  petita  enfanta,  et  lea  d^Totlaaa 
qui  ont  le  coeur  pour  Tobjet  II  fant  chercher  la  raison  de  tooa  cea  &ita.** — 
Didron,  Manuel  d*Iconographie,  p.  1S2,  note.    The  reason  ia  dear  enoa|^ 


Crap.  X.  MOSAIC  478 

the  chamber.  It  is  an  enamelled  wall — but  it  is  a  wall  ;^ 
splendid  decoration,  but  aspiring  to  none  of  the  loftier 
excellences  of  art.  But  throughoat  this  period  fiiithfiil 
conservation  was  in  truth  the  most  valuable  service. 
Mosaic  fell  in  with  the  tendency  to  conventionalism^ 
and  aided  in  strengthening  conventionalism  into  irre- 
sistible law.^ 

Thus  Byzantine  art,  and  Roman  art  in  the  West,  so 
&r  as  independent  of  Byzantine  art,  went  on  with  its 
perpetual  supply  of  images,  relieved  by  a  blazing  golden 
ground,  and  with  the  most  glowing  colors,  but  in  gen- 
eral stiff,  rigid,  shapeless,  expressionless.  Worship  still 
more  passionate  multiplied  its  objects ;  and  those  objects 
it  was  content  to  receive  according  to  the  established 
pattern.  The  more  rich  and  gaudy,  the  more  welcome 
the  offering  to  the  Saint  or  to  the  Deity,  the  more  de- 
vout the  veneration  of  the  worshipper.  This  character 
—  splendid  coloring,  the  projection  of  the  beautiful  but 
too  regular  face,  or  the  hard,  but  not  entirely  unpli- 
ant  form,  by  the  rich  background  —  prevails  in  all  the 
subordinate  works  of  art  in  East  and  West  —  enamels, 
miniatures,  illuminations  in  manuscripts.  In  these,  not 
so  much  images  for  popular  worship,  as  the  slow  work 
of  artists  dwelling  with  unbounded  delight  on  their  own 

1  Kogler  (p.  20)  is  almost  inclined  to  suspect  that  historic  painting  on 
waOs  in  Mosaic  arose  under  Christian  influences  in  the  fourth  century.  It 
was  before  on  pavements. 

*  The  account  of  the  earlier  Mosaics,  and  the  description  of  those  at 
Rome  and  at  Ravenna,  in  Kugler's  Handbook,  is  full  and  complete.  Ko- 
gler, it  is  to  be  observed,  ascribed  those  in  San  Vitale,  and  other  works  of 
Jostinian  and  his  age  in  the  West,  to  Roman,  not  Byzantine  Art.  This, 
periiaps,  can  hardly  be  determined.  The  later,  at  St.  Apollinaris  in  Ra- 
venna, at  St  Prassede,  and  other  Churches  in  Rome,  are  Byzantine  in  char- 
acter: on  those  of  Venice  Kugler  is  fhller.  The  Art  was  lost  in  Italy  at  tb« 
close  of  the  ninth  century,  to  revive  again  more  free  and  Italian  in  the 
sleveath  and  twelfth. 


474  LATIN  CHEISTIAinTT.  Book 

creadoDs,  seem  gradually  to  dawn  glimpses  of  more  re- 
fined beaaty,  fiices,  forms,  more  instinct  with  life :  even 
the  boundless  luxuriance  of  ornament,  flowers,  foliage^ 
animals,  &ntastic  forms,  would  nurse  the  sense  of  beau- 
ty, and  familiarize  the  hand  with  more  flowing  lines, 
and  the  mind  with  a  stronger  feeling  for  the  graceful 
for  the  sake  of  its  grace.  It  was  altogether  impossible 
that,  during  so  many  ages,  Byzantine  art,  or  the  same 
kind  of  art  in  the  West,  where  it  was  bound  by  less 
rigid  tradition,  and  where  the  guild  of  painters  did  not 
pass  down  in  such  regular  succession,  should  not  stru^ 
gle  for  freedom.^  The  religious  emotions  which  the 
painter  strove  to  excite  in  others  would  kindle  in  him- 
self, and  yearn  after  something  more  than  the  cold 
immemorial  language.  By  degrees  the  hard,  flat  lin- 
eaments of  the  countenance  would  begin  to  quicken 
themselves  ;  its  long  ungraceful  outline  would  be 
rounded  into  fulness  and  less  rigid  expression ;  the 
tall,  straight^  meagre  form  would  swell  out  into  some- 

^  I  mnst  decline  the  controversy  how  far  Westem  Art  was  Bjzmntme.  It 
may  be  possible  for  the  fine  sagacity  of  modem  judgment  to  discriminate 
between  the  inflaences  of  Bvzantine  and  old  Roman  Art,  as  regards  tlie 
forms  and  designs  of  Painting.  Yet  considering  that  the  Byzantine  Ar- 
tists of  Justinian,  and  the  Exarchs  of  Ravenna,  to  a  far  greater  extent 
those  who,  flying  from  the  Iconoclastic  persecution,  bronght  with  them  the 
secrets  and  rules  of  their  art,  were  received  and  domiciliated  in  the  Western 
Monasteries,  and  that  in  those  Monasteries  were  chiefly  preserved  the  tra- 
ditions of  the  older  Italian  Art;  that  nt  no  time  was  the  commercial  or  po- 
litical connection  of  Constantinople  and  the  West  quite  broken  off,  and 
under  the  Othos  the  two  Courts  were  cemented  by  marriage ;  that  all  the 
examples  of  the  period  are  to  be  sought  in  the  rigid  Mosaic,  in  miniaturea, 
ivories,  illuminations — there  must  have  been  so  much  intermingling  of 
the  two  streams,  that  such  discrimination  must  at  least  be  conjectural.  — 
Compare  Rio,  on  what  he  calls  Romano-Christian,  independent  of  Bysaa- 
tine  Art,  pp.  32  et  •eq.  Rumohr,  Italienische  Forschungen,  and  Kngler. 
Lord  Lindsay  is  a  strong  Byzantine ;  and  see  in  KugW,  p.  77 ;  but  Kngler 
will  hardly  allow  Byzantine  Art  credit  for  the  original  conception  or  exe- 
cution of  the  better  designs.  • 


Chap.X.  •        DAWN  OF  ART.  476 

thing  like  moyement,  the  stiff,  fettered  extremities 
separate  into  the  attitude  of  life ;  the  drapery  would 
become  less  like  the  folds  which  swathe  a  mummy;  the 
mummy  would  begin  to  stir  with  life.  It  was  impossi- 
ble but  that  the  Saviour  should  relax  his  harsh,  stem 
lineaments ;  that  the  child  should  not  become  more 
childlike ;  the  Virgin-Mother  waken  into  maternal 
tenderness.^  This  effort  after  emancipation  would  first 
take  place  in  those  smaller  works,  the  miniatures,  the 
illuminations  of  manuscripts.'  On  these  the  artist 
could  not  but  work,  as  has  been  said,  more  at  his  ease  ; 
on  the  whole,  in  them  he  would  address  less  numerous 
perhaps,  but  more  intelligent  spectators ;  he  would  be 
less  in  dread  of  disturbing  popular  superstition  :  and  so 
Taste,  the  parent  and  the  child  of  art,  would  strug- 
gle into  being.     Thus  imperceptibly,  thus  in  various 

^  Durandus,  in  his  Rationale,  i.  c.  3,  would  confine  the  representation  of  the 
Saviour  in  Churches  to  three  attitudes,  either  on  his  throne  of  glory,  on 
the  cross  of  shame,  or  in  the  lap  of  his  Mother.  He  adds  another,  as 
teacher  of  the  world,  with  the  Book  in  his  hand.  —  See  Schnaase,  iv.  387, 
for  the  various  postures  (ii.  p.  136)  of  the  Child  in  his  Mother's  arms. 
Schnaase,  Geschichte  der  Bildende  Kunst,  says  that  nbout  the  middle  of 
the  fifth  century  the  paintings  of  the  Virgin  Mary  hecame  more  common 
(one  has  heen  discovered,  which  is  asserted  to  be  of  an  earlier  period,  but 
we  have  only  the  authority  of  enthusiastic  admiration  and  polemic  zeal  for 
its  age)  in  the  Catacombs.  The  great  Mosaic  in  St.  ApoUinare  Nuovo  is  of 
the  first  quarter  of  the  sixth  century.  Her  image,  as  has  been  said,  floated 
over  the  fleet  of  the  Emperor  Heraclius  I. 

*  The  exquisite  grace  of  the  ivory  carvings  from  Constantinople,  which 
■how  so  high  and  pure  a  conception  for  art,  as  contras^ted  with  the  harsh 
glaring  paintings,  is  perfectly  compatible  with  these  views.  The  ivories 
were  the  works  of  more  refined  artists  for  a  more  refined  class.  The 
paintings  were  the  idols  of  the  vulgar  —  a  hard,  cruel,  sensual  vulgar; 
the  ivories,  as  it  were  talismans,  of  the  hardly  less  superstitious,  but  more 
opulent,  and  polished;  of  those  who  kept  up,  some  the  love  of  letters,  some 
more  cultivated  tastes  Even  the  illuminations  were  the  quiet  works  of 
the  gentler  and  better  and  more  civili7.ed  Monks :  their  love  and  their  study 
of  the  Holy  Books  was  the  testimony  and  the  means  of  their  superior  re- 
finement. 


476  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIT. 

quarterB,  these  better  qualities  cease  to  be  the  secret 
indulgences,  the  life-long  lalx»s  of  th^  emblazoner  of 
manuscripts,  tbe  illuminator  of  missals.  In  the  higher 
branches  of  the  art,  the  names  of  artists  graduaHy 
begin  to  transpire,  to  obtain  respect  and  fiune;  the 
fture  sign  that  art  is  beginning,  that  mere  technical 
traditionary  working  at  images  for  popular  worship  is 
drawing  to  its  close.  Already  the  names  of  Guido 
of  Sienna,  Giunto  of  Pisa,  and  of  Cimabue,  resound 
through  Christendom.  Poetiy  hails  the  birth  and  the 
youth  of  her  sister  art. 

Such,  according  to  the  best  authorities,  appears  to 
have  been  the  state  of  painting  from  the  iconoclastic 
controversy  throughout  the  darker  ages.  Faintly  and 
hesitatingly  at  the  commencement  of  the  twelfth  cen- 
tury,^ more  boldly  and  vigorously  towards  its  close,  and 
during  the  thirteenth  and  half  the  fourteenth,  Italian 
painting  rose  by  degrees,  threw  off  with  Giotto  the  last 
trammels  of  Byzantinism  which  had  still  clung  around 
Cimabue ;  and  at  least  strove  after  that  exquisite  har- 
mony of  nature  and  of  art,  which  had  still  great 
progress  to  make  before  it  reached  its  consummation. 
Turn  from  the  vast,  no  doubt  majestic  Redeemer  of 
Cimabue,  which  broods,  with  its  attendant  figures  of 
the  Virgin  and  St.  John,  over  the  high  altar  at  Pisa, 
Giotto.  to  the  ft*ee  creations  of  Giotto  at  Florence 
dtedisse.'      or  Padua.     Giotto  was  the  great  deliverer. 

1  **  Mir  selbst  aber  ist  es  wahrend  vieljahrig«r  Nachfonchung  durehaos 
nicht  gelungen,  irgend  ein  Beispiel  dea  Wiederaufstrebens  and  Fortschrei- 
tent  der  ItalieniKhen  Kanstiibung  auszufinden,  desaen  Alter  dea  Anbeginn 
det  zwolflen  Jahrhunderts  iiberateige.'*  —  Bumohr,  Italienisdie  Forschim- 
gen,  i.  p.  250. 

For  the  works  of  the  twelfth  century,  Kngler,  pp.  9  ef  iej.  KeTertib»- 
len  full  eighty  yean*  elapsed  before  this  development  made  any  fiutiier 
progrefiSf  p.  98.    Sculpture  in  relief  was  earlier  than  Painting. 


Cbap.X.  GIOTTO.  477 

Invention  is  no  sooner  free  than  it  expatiates  in  un- 
bounded variety.  Nothing  more  moves  our  wonder 
than  the  indefatigable  activity,  the  unexhausted  fer- 
tility of  Giotto :  he  is  adorning  Italy  from  the  Alps 
to  the  Bay  of  Naples;  even  crossing  the  Alps  to 
Avignon.  His  works  either  exist  or  liave  existed  at 
Avignon,  Milan,  Verona,  Padua,  Ferrara,  Urbino,  Ra- 
venna, Rimini,  Lucca,  Florence,  Assisi,  Rome,  Gaeta, 
Naples.^  Bishops,  religious  orders,  republics,  prin(*es 
and  potentates,  kings,  popes,  demand  his  services,  and 
do  him  honor.  He  raises  at  once  the  most  beautiful 
tower  in  architecture  —  that  of  Florence  —  and  paints 
the  Chapel  of  the  Arena  at  Padua,  and  the  Church  at 
Assisi.  Giotto  was  no  monk,  but,  in  its  better  sense, 
a  man  of  the  world.  Profoundly  religious  in  expres- 
sion, in  character,  in  aim ;  yet  religious  not  merely  as 
embodying  all  the  imagery  of  the  mediaeval  faith,  but 
as  prophetic,  at  least,  if  not  presentient  of  a  wider 
Catholicism.^  Besides  the  Scriptural  subjects,  in  which 
he  did  not  entirely  depart  from  the  Byzantine  or  earlier 
arrangement,  and  all  the  more  famous  Legends,  he 
opened  a  new  world  of  real  and  of  allegorical  beings. 
The  poetry  of  St.  Francis  had  impersonated  every- 
thing ;  not  merely,  therefore,  did  the  life  of  St.  Francis 
offer  new  and  picturesque  subjects,  but  the  impersona- 

1  Rio  nays,  perhaps  too  strongly,  that  all  his  works  at  Avignon,  Milan, 
Verona,  Ferrara,  Modena,  Ravenna,  Lucca,  Gaeta,  have  perished,  p.  65. 

3  There  is  g^at  truth  and  beauty  in  the  character  of  Giotto  as  drawn  by 
Lord  Lindsay  (ii.  p.  26S).  The  three  first  paragraphs  appear  to  me  moet 
striking  and  just.  Lord  Lindsay  divides  his  life  into  four  periods.  I.  His 
youth  in  Florence  and  Rome.  II.  About  A.  D.  1306  in  Lombardy,  the 
Arena  Chapel  at  Padua.  III.  Assisi.  IV.  Longer  residence  in  Florence, 
North  of  Italy,  Avignon,  Naples,  p.  165.  See  also  Mr.  Ruskin^s  Memoir. 
For  Giotto^fl  remarkable  Poem  against  voluntary  poverty,  see  Rumohr, 
i.  c.  9. 


478  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

tions,  Chastity,  Obedience,  Poverty,  as  in  the  hymns  of 
St.  Francis  they  had  taken  being,  assumed  form  from 
Giotto.  Reh'gious  led  to  civil  allegory.  Giotto  painted 
the  commonwealth  of  Florence.  Allegory  in  itself  is 
far  too  unobjective  for  art :  it  needs  perpetual  inter- 
pretation, which  art  cannot  give  ;  but  it  was  a  sign  of 
the  new  world  opening,  or  rather  boldly  thrown  open, 
to  painting  by  Giotto.  The  whole  Scripture,  the  whole 
of  Legend  (not  the  old  permitted  forms  and  scenes 
alone),  the  life  of  the  Virgin,  of  the  Saints,  of  the 
founders  of  Orders,  even  the  invisible  worlds  which 
Dante  had  revealed  in  poetry,  now  expanded  in  art, 
Dante,  perhaps,  must  await  Orcagna,  not  indeed  act- 
ually to  embody,  but  to  illustrate  his  transmundane 
worlds.  Italy  herself  hailed,  with  all  her  more  power- 
ful voices  —  her  poets,  novelists,  historians  —  the  new 
epoch  of  art  in  Giotto.  Dante  declares  that  he  has 
dethroned  Cimabue.  "  The  vulgar,"  writes  Petrarch, 
'^  cannot  understand  the  surpassing  beauty  of  Giotto^s 
Virgin,  before  which  the  masters  stand  in  astonish- 
ment." ^^  Giotto,"  says  Boccaccio,  ^'  imitates  nature 
to  perfect  illusion ; "  Villani  describes  him  as  tran- 
scending all  former  artists  in  the  truth  of  nature.^ 

During  the  latter  half  of  the  tliirteenth,  and  throu^H 
out  the  fourteenth  century,  the  whole  of  Italy,  the 
churches,  the  monasteries,  the  cloisters,  many  of  the 
civil  buildings,  were  covered  with  paintings  aspiring  af- 
ter, and  approximating  to  the  highest  art.  Sienna,  then 
in  the  height  of  her  glory  and  prosperity,  took  the  lead ; 

1        CredeCte  Cimabue  nella  pittam 
Tener  lo  campo,  ed  or'  ha  Qiotto  11  grido. 

Mitto  tabttlam  meam  beats  Virginia,  operis  Joeti  pictoris  egregii  in  cnjas 
palcritudmem  ignorantes  nee  intelligunt,  magiAtri  autem  artis  stapoit. 
Quoted  by  Vasari.    Decameron,  Giorn.  vi.  Nov.  5.    Villani,  11, 12. 


Chap.X.  mendicant  ORDERS.  '479 

Pisa  beheld  her  Campo  Santo  peopled  with  the  won- 
derful creations  6{  Orcagna.  Painting  aspired  to  her 
Inferno,  Purgatorio,  Paradiso :  Painting  will  strive  to 
have  her  Dante. 

This  outburst  was  simultaneous  with,  it  might  seem 
to  originate  in,  the  wide  dissemination,  the  ubiquitous 
activity,  and  the  strong  religious  passion  felt.  Mendicant 
propagated,  kept  alive  in  its  utmost  intensity  ^'^«"- 
by  the  Mendicant  Orders.  Strange  it  might  appear 
that  the  Arts,  the  highest  luxuries,  if  we  may  so  speak, 
of  religion,  should  be  fostered,  cultivated,  cherished, 
distributed  throughout  Italy,  and  even  beyond  the 
Alps,  by  those  who  professed  to  reduce  Christianity  to 
more  than  its  primitive  simplicity,  its  nakedness  of  all 
adornment,  its  poverty ;  whose  mission  it  was  to  con- 
sort with  the  most  rude  and  vulgar;  beggars  who 
aspired  to  rank  below  the  coarsest  mendicancy ;  accord- 
ing to  whose  rule  there  could  be  no  property,  hardly  a 
fixed  residence.  Strange  I  that  these  should  become 
the  most  munificent  patrons  of  art,  the  most  consum- 
mate artists  ;  that  their  cloistered  palaces  should  be  the 
most  sumptuous  in  architecture,  and  the  most  richly 
decorated  by  sculpture  and  painting ;  at  once  the  work- 
shops and  the  abodes  of  those  who  executed  most  ad- 
mirably, and  might  seem  to  adore  with  the  most  intense 
devotion,  these  splendors  and  extravagances  of  religious 
wealth.  Assisi  —  the  birthplace  of  St.  Francis,  the 
poor,  self-denying  wanderer  over  the  face  of  the  earth, 
who  hardly  owned  the  cord  which  girt  him,  who  pos- 
sessed not  a  breviary  of  his  own,  who  worshipped  in  the 
barren  mountain,  at  best  in  the  rock-hewn  cell,  whose 
companions  were  the  lepers,  the  outcasts  of  human  so- 
ciety —  Assisi  becomes  the  capital,  the  young,  gorgeous 


480  LATIN  CUBISTIANrnr.  book  juv. 

capital  of  Christian  Art.  Perhaps  in  no  single  city  of 
that  period  was  such  lavish  expenditure  made  in  all 
which  was  pnrely  decorative.  The  church,  finished  by 
a  German  architect  but  five  years  after  the  death  of  St. 
Francis,  put  to  shame  in  its  architecture,  as  somewhat 
later  in  the  paintings  of  Cimabue,  Simon  Memmi, 
Giunto,  Giotto,  probably  the  noblest  edifices  in  Rome, 
those  in  the  Lombard  Republics,  in  Pisa,  Sienna,  Flor- 
ence, and  as  yet  those  of  the  capitals  and  cathedral 
cities  of  Transalpine  Christendom.  The  Dominicans 
were  not  far  behind  in  their  steady  cultivation,  and 
their  profuse  encouragement  of  art^ 

Yet  this  fact  is  easy  of  explanation,  if  it  has  not 
already  found  its  explanation  in  our  history.  There  is 
always  a  vast  mass  of  dormant  religiousness  in  the 
world ;  it  wants  only  to  be  seized,  stimulated,  directed^ 
appropriated.  These  Orders  swept  into  their  ranks  and 
within  their  walls  all  who  yearned  for  more  intense  re- 
ligion. Devout  men  threw  themselves  into  the  move* 
ment,  which  promised  most  boldly  and  succeeded  most 
fully  in  satisfying  the  cravings  of  the  heart  There 
would  be  many  whose  vocation  was  not  that  of  the  ac- 
tive preacher,  or  the  restless  missionary,  or  the  argute 
schoolman.  There  were  the  calm,  the  gentle,  the  con- 
templative. Men  who  had  the  irresistible  calling  to  be 
artists  became  Franciscans  or  Dominicans,  not  because 
mendicancy  was  favorable  to  art,  but  because  it  awoke, 
and  cherished,  and  strengthened  those  emotions  which 
were  to  express  themselves  in  art.  Religion  drove 
them  into  the  cloister;  the  cloister  and  the  church 
offered  them  its  walls ;  they  drew  from  all  quarters  the 

1  Simon  Memmi  of  Sienna  painted  the  legend  of  St.  Dominic  in  the  Chap- 
el of  the  Spaniards  in  Santa  Maria  Novella  at  Florence.  —  Yasari  and  Rio^ 
p.  56. 


CnAP.X.  MONKISH  PAINTEBS.  481 

traditions,  the  technicalities  of  art.  Being  rich  enough 
(the  communities,  not  the  individuals)  to  reward  the 
best  teachers  or  the  more  celebrated  artists,  they  soon 
became  masters  of  the  skill,  the  manipulation,  the  rules 
of  design,  the  practice  of  coloring.  How  could  the 
wealth,  so  lavishly  poured  at  their  feet,  be  better  em- 
ployed than  in  the  reward  of  the  stranger-artist,  who 
not  only  adorned  their  walls  with  the  most  perfect 
models,  but  whose  study  in  the  church  or  in  the  clois- 
ter was  a  school  of  instruction  to  the  Monks  them- 
selves who  aspired  to  be  their  pupils  or  their  rivals? 

The  Monkish  painters  were  masters  of  that  inval- 
uable treasure,  time,  to  work  their  study  up  to  perfec- 
tion ;  there  was  nothing  that  urged  to  careless  haste. 
Without  labor  they  had  their  scanty  but  sufficient 
sustenance;  they  had  no  further  wants.  Art  alter- 
nated with  salutary  rest,  or  with  the  stimulant  of  art, 
the  religious  service.  Neither  of  these  permitted  the 
other  to  languish  into  dull  apathy,  or  to  rest  in  inex- 
pressive forms  or  hues.  No  cares,  no  anxieties,  proba- 
bly not  even  the  jealousies  of  art,  intruded  on  these 
secluded  Monks ;  theirs  was  the  more  blameless  rivalry 
of  piety,  not  of  success.  With  some,  perhaps,  there 
was  a  latent  unconscious  pride,  not  so  much  in  them- 
selves as  in  the  fame  and  influence  which  accrued  to 
the  Order,  or  to  the  convent,  which  their  works 
crowded  more  and  more  with  wondering  worship- 
pers. But  in  most  it  was  to  disburden,  as  it  were, 
their  own  hearts,  to  express  in  form  and  color  their 
own  irrepressible  feelings.  They  would  have  worked 
as  passionately  and  laboriously  if  the  picture  had  been 
enshrined,  unvisited,  in  their  narrow  cell.  They  wor- 
shipped their  own  works,  not  because  they  were  their 

voT^  vni.  31 


482  LATIN  CHRISTIANITV.  Book  XIV. 

own,  but  because  they  spoke  the  language  of  their 
souls.  They  worshipped  while  they  worked,  worked 
that  they  might  worship ;  and  works  so  conceived  and 
BO  executed  (directly  the  fetters  of  conventionalisia 
were  burst  and  cast  aside,  and  the  technical  skill  ac- 
quired) could  not  fail  to  inspire  the  adoration  of  all 
kindred  and  congenial  minds.  Their  pictures,  in 
truth,  were  their  religious  offerings,  made  in  single- 
minded  zeal,  with  untiring  toil,  with  patience  never 
wearied  or  satisfied.  If  these  offerings  had  their  meed 
of  fame,  if  they  raised  the  glory  or  enlarged  the  influ- 
ence and  so  the  wealth  of  the  Order,  the  simple  artists 
were  probably  the  last  who  would  detect  within  them- 
selves that  less  generous  and  less  disinterested  motive. 
If  the  Dominicans  were  not  inferior  to  the  Francis- 
cans in  the  generous  encouragement  of  the  ai*t  of  paint* 
ing,  in  its  cultivation  among  their  own  brethren  they 
attained  higher  fame.  If  Assisi  took  the  lead,  and 
almost  all  the  best  masters  kindled  its  walls  to  life, 
the  Dominican  convent  in  Florence  might  boast  the 
FriAngeUco.  works  of  their  own  brother  Fra  Angelico. 
To  judge  from  extant  paintings,  Angelico  was  the 
unsurpassed,  if  not  unrivalled,  model  of  what  I  pre- 
sume to  call  the  cloistral  school  of  painting.  The  per- 
fect example  of  his  inspiration  as  of  his  art  was  Fra 
Giovanni  Angelico  da  Fiesole.  Fra  Angelico  became 
a  monk  that  he  might  worship  without  disturbance, 
and  paint  without  reward.  He  left  all  human  pas- 
sions behind  him ;  his  one  passion  was  serene  devo» 
tion,  not  without  tenderness,  but  the  tenderness  of  a 
saint  rather  than  of  a  man.  Before  he  began  to  paint, 
he  knelt  in  prayer  ;  as  he  painted  the  sufferings  of  the 
Redeemer,  he  would  break  off  in  tears.     No  doubt. 


Crap.X.  FEk  AN6ELIC0.  488 

when  he  attained  that  expression  of  calm,  unearthly 
holiness  which  distinguishes  his  Angels  or  Saints,  he 
stood  partaking  in  their  mystic  ecstasy.  He  had 
nothing  of  the  moroseness,  the  self-torture  of  the 
monk ;  he  does  not  seem,  like  later  monastic  paint- 
ers in  Italy  and  Spain,  to  have  delighted  in  the  agony 
of  the  martyrdom  ;  it  is  the  glorified,  not  the  suffering, 
Saint  which  is  his  ideal.  Of  the  world,  it  was  human 
nature  alone  from  which  he  had  wrenched  away  his 
sympathies.  He  delights  in  brilliant  colors ;  the  bright- 
est green  or  the  gayest  hues  in  his  trees  and  flowers ; 
the  richest  reds  and  blues  in  his  draperies,  with  a 
profusion  of  gold.  Frk  Angelico  is  the  Mystic  of 
painting,  the  contemplative  Mystic,  living  in  another 
world,  having  transmuted  all  that  he  remembers  of 
this  world  into  a  purer,  holier  being.  But  that  which 
was  his  excellence  was  likewise  his  defect.  It  was 
spiritualism,  exquisite  and  exalting  spiritualism,  but 
it  w^as  too  spiritual.  Painting,  which  represents  hu- 
manity, even  in  its  highest,  holiest  form,  must  still  be 
human.  With  the  passions,  the  sympathies  and  affec- 
tions of  Giovanni's  mind  had  almost  died  away.  His 
child  is  not  a  child,  he  is  a  cherub.  The  Virgin  and 
the  Mother  are  not  blended  in  perfect  harmony  and 
proportion  ;  the  colder  Virgin  prevails ;  adoration  has 
extinguished  motherly  love.  Above  all,  the  Redeem- 
er fails  in  all  Angelico's  pictures.  Instead  of  the 
orthodox  perfect  God  and  perfect  Man,  by  a  singular 
heresy  the  humanity  is  so  efiaced  that,  as  the  pure 
Divinity  is  unimaginable,  and,  unincarnate,  cannot 
be  represented,  both  the  form  and  the  countenance 
are  stiffened  to  a  cold,  unmeaning  abstraction.  It  ia 
neitlier  the  human  nature,  with  the  infused  majesty 


484  LATIN  CHRISTIANITT.  Book  XIV. 

and  mercy  of  the  Godhead;  nor  the  Godhead  sulv 
dued  into  the  gentleness  and  patience  of  humanity. 
The  God-man  is  neither  (Jod  nor  Man.  Even  in 
the  celestial  or  beatified  beings,  angels  or  sainta,  ex* 
qaisite,  unrivalled  as  is  their  grace  and  beauty,  the 
grace  is  not  that  of  beings  accustomed  to  the  free  uae 
of  their  limbs;  the  beauty  is  not  that  of  our  atmos- 
phere. Not  merely  do  they  want  the  breath  of  life, 
the  motion  of  life,  the  warmth  of  life,  they  want  the 
trflth  of  life,  and  without  truth  there  is  no  consummate 
art.  They  have  never  really  lived,  never  assumed 
the  functions  nor  dwelt  within  the  precincts  of  life. 
Painting  having  acquired  in  the  cloister  all  this  tm^ 
worldliness,  this  profound  devotion,  this  refined  spii^ 
ituality,  must  emerge  again  into  the  world  to  blend 
and  balance  both,  first  in  Francia  and  Pemgino,  np 
to  the  perfect  Leonardo  and  Raffiielle.  Even  the 
cloister  in  Fra  Bartolomeo  must  take  a  wider  flight ; 
it  must  paint  man,  it  must  humaniie  itself  that  it  may 
represent  man  and  demand  the  genuine  admiration 
of  man.  It  is  without  the  walls  of  the  cloister  dist 
painting  finds  its  unrivalled  votaries,  achieves  its  moat 
Imperishable  triumphs. 

Transalpine  Painting  is  no  less  the  fiiithiul  con- 
Tnnnipine.  sorvator  of  the  ancient  traditions.  In  the 
riemtoh  art.  German  missals  and  books  of  devotion  theie 
is,  throughout  the  earlier  period,  the  fiiithiul  mainte- 
nance of  the  older  forms,  rich  grounds,  splendid  colors. 
The  walls  of  the  older  churches  reveal  paintings  in 
which  there  is  at  least  aspiration  after  higher  things, 
some  variety  of  design,  some  incipient  grace  and  noble- 
Qess  of  form.  The  great  hierarchical  cities  on  the 
Rhine  seem   to  take  the  lead.     William   of  Cologne 


Chap.  X.  GERMAN  AND  FLEMISH  ABT.  485 

and  Master  Stephen  seem  as  if  they  would  raise  up 
rivals  in  Teutonic  to  Italian  art  Above  all,  at  the 
close  of  this  period^  about  contemporary  with  An-* 
gelico  da  Fiesole,  the  Flemish  Van  Eycks,  if  not 
by  the  invention,  by  the  perfection  of  oil-painting, 
gave  an  impulse  of  which  it  is  difficult  to  calculate 
the  importance.  Those  painters  of  the  rich  conmier* 
cial  cities  of  the  Low  Countries  might  seem  as  deeply 
devout  in  their  conceptions  as  the  cloistral  school  of 
Italy,  yet  more  human  as  living  among  men,  nobler 
in  their  grouping,  nobler  in  their  dresses  and  dra^ 
peries ;  and  already  in  their  backgrounds  anticipating 
that  truth  and  reality  of  landscape  which  was  hereafter 
to  distinguish  their  country.  In  this  the  later  Flem* 
ish  painters  rise  as  much  above  the  Van  Eycks  as 
Leonardo  and  Rafiaelle  above  their  predecessors.  But 
at  first  Teutonic  might  seem  as  if  it  would  vie  for  -the 
palm  of  Christian  painting.^ 

The  works  of  Nicolas  V .  in  letters  and  in  arts 
have  ended  our  survey  of  these  two  great  depart* 
ments  of  Christian  influence,  and  summed  up  the 
account  of  Latin  Christendom.  The  papacy  of  Nico- 
las Y.  closed  the  age  of  mediaeval  letters ;  it  termi- 
nated, at  least  in  Italy,  if  Brunelleschi  had  not  already 
closed   it,   the   reign   of  medisBval   architecture.^     In 

1  Hubert  Van  Eyck,  bom  about  1366,  died  1428.  John  Van  Eyck,  bom 
about  1400,  died  1445.  —  See  for  Geman  Painting  the  Translation  of  Kug- 
ler,  by  Sir  Edmund  Head.    On  the  Van  Eycks,  Waagen's  Dissertation. 

3  Two  sentences  of  Vasari  show  the  revolution  arrived  at  and  taught  by 
that  great  Architect,  who  boasted  to  have  raised  the  majestic  cupola  of 
Florence.  ^^  Solo  V  intento  suo  era  1*  architettura  che  gia  era  spenta,  dioo 
gli  ordini  antichi  hvioniy  e  non  la  Ttdtica  e  barbara  la  quale  molto  si  usava 
nel  suo  tem|>o.  *  *  *  Eaveva  in  se  due  concetti  grandissimi;  1*  uno  erail 
toraare  al  luce  labuona  architettura,  credendo  egli  ritrovandola  non  lasciare 
manoo  memoria  di  se,  che  fatto  si  aveva  Cimabne  e  Giotto ;  1'  altro  di  trovar 
modo,  se  e  si  potesse,  a  voltare  la  cupola  di  S.  Maria  del  Fiore  di  Fireaze," 
p.  207,  edit  Milan.    Compare  p.  265. 


486  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  B4>ok  XIV. 

painting,  by  his  munificent  patronage  of  that  which 
was  then  the  highest  art,  but  which  was  only  the 
harbinger  of  nobler  things  to  come,  the  pontificate  of 
Nicolas  marked  the  transition  period  firom  the  ancient 
to  the  modem  world. 

But  Nicolas  Y.  was  only  a  restorer,  and  a  restorer 
not  in  the  hierarchical  character,  of  the  medieval 
architecture.  That  architecture  had  achieved  its 
great  works,  Strasburg,  all  that  was  to  rise,  till  the 
present  day,  of  Cologne,  Antwerp,  Rheims,  Bruges, 
Amiens,  Chartres,  St.  Ouen  at  Rouen,  Notre  Dame 
at  Paris,  our  own  Westminster,  York,  Salisbury, 
Lincoln.  This  great  art  survived  in  its  creative 
power,  only  as  it  were,  at  the  extremities  of  Latin 
Christendom.  It  had  even  passed  its  gorgeous  epoch, 
called  in  France  the  Flamboyant ;  it  was  degenerat- 
ing* into  luxury  and  wantonness;  it  had  begun  to 
adorn  for  the  sake  of  adornment.  But  Rome  was 
still  faithful  to  Rome;  her  architecture  would  not 
condescend  to  Teutonic  influence.  That  which  is 
by  some  called  Christian  architecture,  as  has  been 
said,  was  to  the  end  almost  a  stranger,  in  the  city 
still  acknowledged  as  the  capital  of  Christendom.^ 
Rome  at  least,  if  not  Italy,  was  still  holding  aloof 
firom  that  which  was  the  strength  of  Rome  and  of 
Latin  Christendom  —  Medisevalism ;  Nicolas  V.,  as 
it  were,  accomplished  the  divorce.  In  him  Rome 
repudiated  the  whole  of  what  are  called  the  Dark 
Ages.  Rome  began  the  revival  which  was  to  be  in 
the  end  the  ruin  of  her  supremacy. 

Nicolas  v.,  as  Pope,   as  sovereign  of  Rome,   as 

^  It  was  in  Rome  that  BraneUeschi  "  ritrovb  le  cornici  antiche,  e  V  ordina 
Toflcano,  Corinthio,  Dorico,  e  lonioo  alle  primarie  fonne  reatitui.**  — 
Vaaari. 


Cbap.X.  NICOLAS  V.  487 

patron  of  letters  and  arts,  stood,  consciously  per^ 
haps,  but  with  a  dim  perception  of  the  change,  at 
the  head  of  a  new  era.  It  was  an  epoch  in  Chris- 
tian civilization.  To  him  the  Pope  might  seem  as 
destined  for  long  ages  to  rule  the  subject  and  trib- 
utary world;  the  great  monarchies,  the  Empire, 
France,  Spain,  England,  were  yet  to  rise,  each  obe- 
dient  or  hostile  to  the  Pope  as  might  suit  their  policy. 
He  could  not  foresee  that  the  Pope,  from  the  high 
autocrat  over  all,  would  become  only  one  of  the  powers 
of  Christendom.  To  be  a  sovereign  Italian  prince 
might  appear  necessary  to  his  dignity,  his  security. 
It  was  but  in  accordance  with  the  course  of  things 
in  Italy.  Everywhere,  except  in  stern  oligarcliical 
Venice,  in  Milan,  in  Verona,  in  Ferrara,  in  Florence, 
princes  had  risen,  or  were  arising,  on  the  ruins  of  the 
Republics,  Viscontis,  Sforzas,  Estes,  della  Seal  as, 
Medicis.  Thomas  of  Sarzana  (he  took  this  name, 
he  had  no  other,  from  his  native  town)  so  obscure 
that  his  &mily  was  unknown,  had  no  ancestry  to 
glorify,  no  descendants  whom  he  might  be  tempted 
to  enrich  or  to  ennoble.  He  had  no  prophetic  fears 
that, -as  sovereign  princes,  his  successors  would  yield 
to  the  inevitable  temptation  of  founding  princely 
families  at  the  expense  of  the  interests,  of  the  estates 
and  dominions  of  the  Church.  Not  only  was  the 
successor  of  St.  Peter  to  be  merged  in  the  more 
ambitious  politics  of  the  world,  but  trammelled  in 
the  more  mean  and  intricate  politics  of  Italy.  Almost 
from  this  time  the  names  of  the  successive  Popes  may 
be  traced  in  the  annals  of  the  cities  and  petty  prin- 
cipalities of  Italy,  in  the  rolls  of  the  estates  of  the 
Church,  of  which  they  have  become  lords,  in  their 


488  LATIN   CHRISTUNITT.  Book  HV. 

magnificent  palaces  in  Rome.  Among  those  palaces 
there  is  but  one,  the  Colonna,  which  boasts  an  ancient 
name ;  but  few  which  bear  not  the  name  of  a  papal 
house.  Too  often  among  the  Popes  of  the  next  cen- 
tury the  character  (and  dark  indeed  was  that  charac- 
ter) of  tlie  Italian  sovereign  prince  prevailed  over  that 
of  the  Pope.  If  his  house  was  not  perpetuated,  it  was 
solely  from  the  indignant  hostility  and  execration  of 
mankind.^ 

As  to  Nicolas  V.  Italy,  or  rather  Latin  Christian- 
ity, mainly  owes  her  age  of  learning,  as  well  as  its 
fatal  consequences  to  Rome  and  to  Latin  Christianity, 
so  those  consequences,  in  his  honest  ardor,  he  would 
be  the  last  to  prognosticate  or  to  foresee.  It  was  the 
splendid  vision  of  Nicolas  V.  that  Christianity  was  to 
array  herself  in  the  spoils  of  the  ancient  world,  and  so 
maintain  with  more  universal  veneration  her  suprem- 
BsTinaof  ^^y  ^^^^  *^®  human  mind.  This,  however, 
Lstton.  ^jjg  revival  of  learning,  was  but  one  of  the 
four  great  principles  in  slow,  silent,  irresistible  opera- 
tion in  Western  Christendom,  mutually  cooperative, 
blending  with  and  strengthening  each  other,  ominous 
of  and  preparing  the  great  revolution  of  the  next  cen- 
tury. But  to  all  these,  signs  at  once  and  harbingers 
of  the  coming  change,  Nicolas  could  not  but  be  blind ; 
for  of  these  signs  some  were  those  which  a  Pope,  himself 
so  pious  and  so  prosperous,  might  refuse  to  see;  or,  if  not 
dazzled  by  his  prosperity,  too  entirely  absorbed  in  dan- 
gei*s  of  far  other  kind,  the  fall  of  Constantinople,  the 
advance  of  the  Turks  on  Western  Christendom,  might 
be  unable  to  see.     This  one  danger,  as  it  (so  he  might 

1  Pius  II.  Alienated  Badicoftni,  not  to  his  family,  bat  to  his  natire  d^, 
Sienna. 


Gbap.x.  reyiyal  of  lettebs.  489 

hope)  would  work  refonnation  ift  the  startled  Church, 
would  bring  the  alienated  world  into  close  and  obedient 
confederacj  with  her  head.  The  Pope,  like  Urban  of 
old,  would  take  his  place  at  the  head  of  the  defensive 
crusade. 

I.  —  Of  these  principles,  of  these  particular  signs, 
the  first  was  the  progre%9  of  the  human  inteUeet^  inevita- 
ble in  the  order  of  things,  and  resulting  in  a  twofold 
oppugnancy  to  the  established  dominion  of  the  Church. 
The  first  ofispring  of  the  expanding  intellect  was  the 
long-felt,  still  growing  impatience,  intolerance  of  the 
oppressions  and  the  abuses  of  the  Papacy,  of  the  Papal 
Court,  and  of  the  Papal  religion.  This  impatience  did 
not  of  necessity  involve  the  rejection  of  the  doctrines 
of  Latin  Christianity.  But  it  would  no  longer  endure 
the  enormous  powers  still  asserted  by  the  Popes  over 
temporal  sovereigns,  the  immunities  claimed  by  the 
clergy  as  to  their  persons  and  from  the  common  bur- 
dens of  the  State,  the  exorbitant  taxation,  the  venality 
of  Rome,  above  all,  the  Indulgences,  with  which  the 
Papal  power  in  its  decline  seemed  determined  wan- 
tonly to  insult  the  moral  and  religious  sense  of  man- 
kind. Long  before  Luther  this  abuse  had  rankled  in 
the  heart  of  Christendom.  It  was  in  vain  for  the 
Church  to  assert  that,  rightly  understood.  Indulgences 
only  released  from  temporal  penances ;  that  they  were 
a  commutation,  a  merciful,  lawful  commutation  for 
such  penances.  The  language  of  the  promulgators 
and  vendors  of  the  Indulgences,  even  of  the  Indul- 
gences themselves,  was,  to  the  vulgar  ear,  the  broad, 
plain,  direct  guarantee  from  the  pains  of  purgatory, 
from  hell  itself,  for  tens,  hundreds,  thousands  of  years ; 
a  sweeping  pardon  for  all  sins  committed,  a  sweeping 


490  LATIN  CHRISTIANnT.  Book  XTT- 

license  for  sins  to  be  committed :  and  if  this  fidse  con- 
struction, it  might  be,  was  perilous  to  the  irreligioiis, 
this  even  seeming  flagrant  dissociation  of  morality  from 
religion  was  no  less  revolting  to  the  religious.^  Nor 
was  there  as  yet  any  general  improvement  in  the  lives 
of  the  Clergy  or  of  the  Monks,  which  by  its  awiid 
sanctity  might  rebuke  the  vulgar  and  natural  interpre- 
tation of  these  Indulgences.^  The  antagonism  of  the 
more  enlightened  intellect  to  the  doctrines  of  the  medi- 
seval  Church  was  slower,  more  timid,  more  reluctant. 
It  was  as  yet  but  doubt,  suspicion,  indifference  ;  the 
irreligious  were  content  to  be  quietly  irreligious ;  the 
religious  had  not  as  yet  found  in  the  plain  Biblical  doc-> 
trines  that  on  which  they  could  calmly  and  contentedly 
rest  their  fitith.  Religion  had  not  risen  to  a  purer  spir- 
ituality to  compensate  for  the  loss  of  the  materialistic 
worship  of  the  dominant  Church.  The  conscience 
shrank  from  the  responsibility  of  taking  cognizance  of 
itself;  the  soul  dared  not  work  out  its  own  salvation. 
The  clergy  slept  on  the  brink  of  the  precipice.  So 
long  as  they  were  not  openly  opposed  they  thought  all 
was  safe.  So  long  as  unbelief  in  the  whole  of  their 
system  lurked  quietly  in  men's  hearts,  they  cared  not 
to  inquire  what  was  brooding  in  those  inner  depths. 
II.  —  The  second  omen  at  once  and  sign  of  change 
ReTinaof  ^^  ^^  cultivation  of  classical  learning.  Let- 
Lettera.         ^^  almost  at  once  ceased  to  be  cloistral,  hie- 

1  Chaucer's  Pardoner  is  a  striking  illustratioQ  of  the  popular  notion  and 
popular  feeling  in  England 

>  The  irrefragable  testimony  to  the  universal  misinterpretation,  the  natu- 
ral, inevitable  misinterpretation  of  the  language  of  the  Indulgences,  the 
misinterpretation  riveted  on  the  minds  of  men  by  their  profligate  vendors, 
is  the  solemn,  reiterated  repudiation  of  those  notions  by  Conncik  and  by 
PopeA.  The  definitions  of  the  Council  of  Trent  and  of  Pius  V.  had  not 
been  wanted,  if  the  Church  doctrine  had  been  the  belief  of  mankind* 


Chap.  X.  BEYIVAL  OF  LETTERS.  491 

rarchical,  before  long  almost  to  be  Christiaii.  In 
Italy,  indeed,  the  Pope  had  set  himself  at  the  head  of 
this  vast  movement ;  yet  Florence  vied  with  Rome. 
Cosmo  de'  Medici  was  the  rival  of  Nicolas  V.  Bat, 
notwithstanding  the  Pope's  position,  the  clergy  rapidly 
ceased  to  be  the  sole  and  almost  exclusive  depositaries 
of  lettera.  The  scholars  might  condescend  to  hold 
canonries  or  abbeys  as  means  of  maintenance,  as  hon- 
ors, or  rewards  (thns,  long  before,  had  Petrarch  been 
endowed),  but  it  was  with  the  tacit  understanding,  or 
at  least  the  almost  unlimited  enjoyment,  of  pei*fect  free- 
dom from  ecclesiastical  control,  so  long  as  they  did  not 
avowedly  enter  on  theological  grounds,  which  they 
avoided  rather  from  indifference  and  from  growing 
contempt,  than  from  resj^ect.  On  every  side  were  ex- 
panding new  avenues  of  inquiry,  new  trains  of  thought : 
new  models  of  composition  were  offering  themselves ; 
all  tended  silently  to  impair  the  reverence  for  the  rul- 
ing authorities.  Men  could  not  labor  to  write  like 
Cicero  and  Caesar  without  imbibing  something  of  their 
spirit.  The  old  ecclesiastical  Latin  began  to  be  repu- 
diated as  rude  and  barbarous.  Scholasticism  had 
crushed  itself  with  its  own  weight.  When  monks  or 
friars  were  the  only  men  of  letters,  and  monastic 
schools  the  only  field  in  which  intellect  encountered  in- 
tellect, the  huge  tomes  of  Aquinas,  and  the  more  sum- 
mary axioms  of  Peter  Lombard,  might  absorb  almost 
the  whole  active  mind  of  Christendom.  But  Plato 
now  drove  out  the  Theologic  Platonism,  Aristotle  the 
Aristotelism  of  the  schools.  The  Platonism,  indeed, 
of  Marsilius  Ficinus,  taking  its  interpretation  rather 
from  Proclus  and  Plotinus  and  the  Alexandrians, 
would  hardly  have  offended  Julian  himself  by  any  ob- 


492  LATIN  CHBISTIAirETT.  Book  XIY. 

tnisive  display  of  Christianitj.  On  his  death-bed  Cos- 
mo de'  Medici  is  attended  hy  Ficinus,  who  aa8ui«8 
him  of  another  life  on  the  anthoritj  of  Socrates,  and 
teaches  him  resignation  in  the  words  of  Plato,  Xeno- 
crates,  and  other  Athenian  sages.  The  cultivation  of 
Greek  was  still  more  fatal  to  Latin  domination.  Even 
the  familiar  study  of  the  Greek  Fathers  (as  &r  as  an 
imposing  ritual  and  the  monastic  spirit  consistent  with 
those  of  the  Latin  Church)  was  altogether  alien  to  the 
scholasticism  dominant  in  Latin  Theology.  They 
knew  nothing  of  the  Latin  supremacy,  nothing  of  the 
rigid  form,  which  many  of  its  doctrines,  as  of  Tran- 
substantiation,  had  assumed.  Greek  revealed  a  whole 
religious  world,  extraneous  to  and  in  many  respects 
oppugnant  to  Latin  Christianity.  But  the  most  fatal 
result  was  the  revelation  of  the  Greek  Testament, 
necessarily  followed  by  that  of  the  Hebrew  Scriptures, 
and  the  dawn  of  a  wider  Biblical  Criticism.  The 
proposal  of  a  new  translation  of  the  Scriptures  at  once 
disenthroned  the  Vulgate  from  its  absolute  exclusive 
authority.  It  could  not  but  admit  the  Greek,  and  then 
the  Hebrew,  as  its  rival,  as  its  superior  in  antiquity. 
Biblical  Criticism  once  begun,  the  old  voluminous  au- 
thoritative interpreters,  De  L3rra,  Turrecremata,  Cor- 
nelius a  Lapide,  were  thrown  into  obscurity.  Erasmus 
was  sure  to  come  ;  with  Erasmus  a  more  simple,  clear, 
popular  interpretation  of  the  divine  word.^  The  my^ 
tic  and  allegoric  comment  on  the  Scriptures,  on  which 
rested  wholly  some  of  the  boldest  assertions  of  I^tin 
Christianity,  fell  away  at  once  before  his  closer,  more 

^  The  Panphrwe  and  Notes  of  Erasmus,  in  my  judgment,  was  the  moat 
important  Book  even  of  his  day.  We  must  remember  that  it  was  almost 
lei^ly  adopted  by  the  Church  of  England. 


Chap.x.  modern  languages.  493 

literal,  more  grammatical  study  of  the  Text.  At  all 
events,  the  Vulgate  receded,  and  with  the  Vulgate 
Latin  Christianity  began  to  withdraw  into  a  separate 
sphere ;  it  ceased  to  be  the  sole,  universal  religion  of 
Western  Christendom. 

III.  —  The  growth  of  the  modem  languages  not 
merely  into  vernacular  means  of  communica-  Modem 
tion,  but  into  the  vehicles  of  letters,  of  poetry,  '^'^"•e*- 
of  oratory,  of  history,  of  preaching,  at  length  of  national 
documents,  still  later  of  law  and  of  science,  threw  back 
Latin  more  and  more  into  a  learned  dialect.  It  was 
relegated  into  the  study  of  the  scholar,  into  books  in- 
tended for  the  intercommunication  only  of  the  learned, 
and  for  a  certain  time  for  the  negotiations  and  treaties 
of  remote  kingdoms,  who  were  forced  to  meet  on  some 
common  ground.  It  is  curious  that  in  Italy  the  revival 
of  classical  learning  for  a  time  crushed  the  native  liter- 
ature, or  at  least  retarded  its  progress.  From  Dante, 
Petrarch,  Boccaccio,  to  Ariosto  and  Machiavelli,  ex- 
cepting some  historians,  Malespina,  Dino  Compagni, 
Vniani,  there  is  almost  total  silence :  silence,  at  least, 
unbroken  by  any  powerful  voice.  Nor  did  the  liberal 
patronage  of  Nicolas  V.  call  forth  one  work  of  lasting 
celebrity  in  the  native  tongue.  The  connection  of  the 
development  of  tfce  Transalpine,  more  especially  the 
Teutonic  languages,  has  been  already  examined  more 
,  at  length.  Here  it  may  suffice  to  resume,  that  the  ver- 
nacular translation  of  the  Bible  was  an  inevitable  result 
of  the  perfection  of  those  tongues.  In  Germany  and 
in  England  that  translation  tended  most  materially,  by 
fixing  a  standard  in  general  of  vigorous,  noble,  poetic, 
yet  idiomatic  language,  to  hasten,  to  perpetuate  the 
change.     It  was  natural  that  as  soon  as  a  nation  had 


494  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  Book  XIV. 

any  books  of  its  own,  it  should  seek  to  have  the  Book 
of  Books.  The  Church,  indeed,  trembling  for  the  so* 
premacy  of  her  own  Vulgate,  and  having  witnessed 
the  fatal  perils  of  such  Translations  in  the  successes  of 
all  the  earlier  Dissidents,  was  perplexed  and  wavered 
in  her  policy.  Now  she  thundered  out  her  awful  pro- 
hibition ;  now  endeavored  herself  to  supply  the  want 
which  would  not  remain  unsatisfied,  by  a  safer  and  a 
sanctioned  vei*sion.  But  the  mind  of  man  could  not 
wait  on  her  hesitating  movements.  The  free,  bold,  un- 
trammelled version  had  possession  of  the  national  mind 
and  national  language  ;  it  had  become  the  undeniable 
patrimony  of  the  people,  the  standaixi  of  the  language* 
IV. —  Just  at  this  period  the  two  great  final  Re> 
PrinUnguid  foi*mers,  the  inventor  of  printing  and  the 
P*i»r-  manufacturer  of  paper,  had  not  only  com- 

menced, but  perfected  at  once  their  harmonioas  invea* 
tions.  Books,  from  slow,  toilsome,  costly  productionft, 
became  cheap,  were  multiplied  with  rapidity  which 
seemed  like  magic,  and  were  accessible  to  thousands  to 
whom  manuscripts  were  utterly  unapproachable.  The 
power,  the  desire,  increased  with  the  facility  of  reading. 
Theology,  from  an  abstruse  recondite  science,  the  ex- 
clusive possession  of  an  Order,  became  popular ;  it  was, 
erelong,  the  general  study,  the  general  passion.  The 
Preacher  was  not  sought  the  less  on  account  of  this 
vast  extension  of  his  influence.  His  eloquent  words 
were  no  longer  limited  by  the  walls  of  a  Church,  or 
the  power  of  a  human  voice ;  they  were  echoed,  per* 
petnated,  promulgated  over  a  kingdom,  over  a  contH 
nent  The  fiery  Preacher  became  a  pamphleteer  ;  he 
addressed  a  whole  realm  ;  he  addressed  mankind.  It 
was  no  longer  necessary  that  man  should  act 


Chap.  X.  PBINTING.  495 

upon  man  ;  that  the  flock  should  derive  their  whole 
knowledge  from  their  Pastor,  the  individual  Christian 
from  his  ghostly  adviser.  The  man  might  find  satis&c- 
tion  for  his  doubts,  guidance  for  his  thoughts,  excite 
ment  for  his  piety  in  his  own  chamber  from  the  silent 
pages  of  the  theological  treatise.  To  many  the  Book 
became  the  Preacher,  the  Instructor,  even  the  Confe&- 
sor.  The  conscience  began  to  claim  the  privilege,  the 
right,  of  granting  absolution  to  itself.  All  this,  of 
course,  at  first  timidly,  intermittingly,  with  many  com- 
punctious returns  to  the  deserted  fold.  The  Hierarchy 
endeavored  to  seize  and  bind  down  to  their  own  service 
these  unruly  powers.  Their  presses  at  Venice,  at  Flor- 
ence, at  Rome,  displayed  the  new  art  in  its  highest 
magnificence ;  but  it  was  not  the  splendid  volume,  the 
bold  and  majestic  type,  the  industrious  editorial  care, 
which  worked  downwards  into  tlie  depths  of  society ; 
it  was  the  coarse,  rude,  brown  sheet ;  the  ill-cut  Ger- 
man type ;  the  brief,  sententious,  plain  tract,  which 
escaped  all  vigilance,  which  sunk  untraced,  unanswered, 
unconfuted,  into  the  eager  mind  of  awakening  man. 
The  sternest  vigilance  might  be  exercised^  by  the  Argus- 
eyes  of  the  still  ubiquitous  Clergy.  The  most  solemn 
condemnations,  the  most  awful  prohibitions  might  be 
issued ;  yet  from  the  birthday  of  printing,  their  sole 
exclusive  authority  over  the  mind  of  man  was  gone. 
That  they  rallied  and  resumed  so  much  power ;  that 
they  had  the  wisdom  and  the  skill  to  seize  upon  the 
education  of  mankind,  and  to  seal  up  again  the  out- 
bursting  springs  of  knowledge,  and  fi^e  examination, 
is  a  mighty  marvel.  Though  from  the  rivals,  the  oppo- 
nents, the  foes,  the  subjugators  of  the  great  Temporal 
Despots,  they  became,  by  their  yet  powerful  hold  on 


496  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIT. 

the  j^onsciencet  and  by  their  common  interests  in  keep- 
ing mankind  in  slavery,  their  allies,  their  ministers, 
their  rulers ;  yet,  from  that  hour,  the  Popes  must  en- 
coimter  more  dangerous,  pertinacious,  unconquerable 
antagonists  than  the  Hohenstaufens  and  Bavarians,  the 
Henrys  and  Fredericks  of  old.  The  sacerdotal  caste 
must  recede  from  authority  to  influence.  Here  they 
would  mingle  into  the  general  mass  of  society,  assim- 
ilate themselves  to  the  bulk  of  mankind,  become  cit- 
izens, subjects,  fathers  of  families,  and  fulfilling  the 
common  duties  and  relations  of  life,  work  more  prcH 
foundly  beneficial,  moral,  and  reli^ous  effects.  There 
they  would  still  stand  in  a  great  degree  apart,  as  a  sep- 
arate, unmingling  order,  yet  submit  to  public  opinion, 
if  exercising  control,  themselves  under  strong  control. 
This  great  part  of  the  sacerdotal  order  at  a  much  later 
period  was  to  be  stripped  with  ruder  and  more  remorse- 
less hands  of  their  power,  their  rank,  their  wealth  ; 
they  were  to  be  thrust  down  from  their  high  places,  to 
become  stipendiaries  of  the  state.  Their  great  strength, 
Monasticism,  in  some  kingdoms  was  to  be  abolished  by 
law,  which  they  could  not  resist ;  or  it  was  only  toler- 
ated as  usefiil  to  the  education,  and  to  the  charitaUe 
necessities*  of  mankind  ;  almost  everywhere  it  sunk  into 
desuetude,  or  lingered  as  the  last  earthly  resort  of  the 
world-weary  and  despondent,  the  refuge  of  a  rare  fanat- 
icism, which  now  excites  wonder  rather  than  wide- 
spread emulation.  From  Nicolas  V .,  seated,  as  it  were, 
on  its  last  suinmit,  the  Papal  power,  the  Hierarchical 
system,  commences  its  visible  decline.  Latin  Christi- 
anity had  to  cede  a  large  portion  of  its  realms,  which 
became  the  more  flourishing,  prosperous,  intellectual 
portion  of  the  world,  to  Teutonic  Christianity.     It  had 


C«Ar.X.  HYPOTHESIS.  497 

hereafter  to  ondergo  more  fierce  and  fiery  trials.  But 
whatever  may  be  its  future  doom,  one  thing  may  be 
asserted  without  fear,  it  can  never  again  be  the  univer- 
sal Christianity  of  the  West. 

I  pretend  not  to  foretell  the  fiiture  of  Christianily ; 
but  whosoever  believes  in  its  perpetuity  (and  to  disbe- 
lieve it  were  treason  against  its  Divine  Author,  apostasy 
from  his  faith)  must  suppose  that,  by  some  providential 
law,  it  must  adapt  itself,  as  it  has  adapted  itself  with 
such  wonderful  versatility,  but  with  a  faithiul  con- 
servation of  its  inner  vital  spirit,  to  all  vicissitudes 
and  phases  of  man's  social,  moral,  intellectual  being. 
There  is  no  need  to  discuss  a  recent  theory  (of  M. 
Comte)  that  man  is  to  become  all  intellect ;  and  that 
religion,  residing  rather  in  the  imagination,  the  afieo- 
tions,  and  the  conscience,  is  to  wither  away,  and  cede 
the  whole  dominion  over  mankind  to  what  is  called 
**  positive  philosophy."  I  have  no  more  faith  in  the 
mathematical  millennium  of  M.  Comte  (at  all  events 
we  have  centuries  enough  to  wait  for  it)  than  in  the 
religious  millennium  of  some  Judaizing  Christians. 

Latin  Christianity  or  Papal  Christianity  (which  is 
Latin  Christianity  in  its  full  development),  whatever 
it  may  be  called  with  least  offence,  has  not  only  ceased 
to  be,  it  can  never  again  be,  the  exclusive,  the  para- 
mount, assuredly  not  the  universal  religion  of  enlight- 
ened men.  The  more  advanced  the  civilization,  no 
doubt,  in  a  certain  sense,  the  more  need  of  Christian- 
ity. All  restrictive  views,  therefore,  of  Christianity, 
especially  if  such  Christianity  be  at  issue  with  the 
moral  sense,  and  with  the  progressive  reason  of  man, 
are  urged  with  perilous  and  fearful  responsibility. 
Better  Christianity  vague  in  creed,  defective  in  polity, 

VOL.  ym.  82 


498  LATIN  CHRISTIANITY.  BookXIY 

than  no  Christianity.  If  Latin  Christianity  were  to 
be  the  one  perpetual,  immutable,  unalterable  code,  how 
much  of  the  world  would  still  be  openly,  how  much 
secretly  without  religion  ?  Even  in  what  we  may  call 
the  Latin  world,  to  how  large  a  part  is  Latin  Christian- 
ity what  the  religion  of  old  Rome  was  in  the  days  of 
Caesar  and  Cicero,  an  object  of  traditionary  and  pru- 
dential respect,  of  vast  political  importance,  an  edifice 
of  which  men  fear  to  see  the  ruin,  yet  have  no  inward 
sense  of  its  foundation  in  truth  ?  On  more  religious 
minds  it  will  doubtless  maintain  its  bold  as  a  religion 
of  authority  —  a  religion  of  outward  form  —  an  objeo 
tive  religion,  and  so  possessing  inexhaustible  powers  of 
awakening  religious  emotion.  As  a  religion  of  author^ 
ity,  as  an  objective  religion^  as  an  emotional  religion, 
it  may  draw  within  its  pale  proselytes  of  congenial 
minds  from  a  more  vague,  more  subjective,  more  ra- 
tional faith.  As  a  religion  of  authority  it  spares  the 
soul  from  the  pain  of  thought^  from  the  harassing 
doubt,  the  desponding  scruple.  Its  positive  and  pez^ 
emptory  assurances  not  only  overawe  the  weak,  bot 
offer  an  indescribable  consolation  —  a  rest,  a  repose, 
which  seems  at  least  to  be  peace.  Independence  of 
thought,  which  to  some  is  their  holiest  birthright,  their 
most  glorious  privilege,  their  sternest  duty,  is  to  others 
the  profoundest  misery,  the  heaviest  burden,  the  re- 
sponsibility from  which  they  would  shrink  with  the 
deepest  awe,  which  they  would  plunge  into  any  abyss 
•to  avoid.  What  relief  to  devolve  upon  another  the 
oppressive  question  of  our  eternal  destiny  I 

As  an  objective  religion,  a  materialistic  religion,  a 
religion  which  addresses  itself  to  the  senses  of  man, 
Latin   Christianity   has  no  less  great  and   enduring 


Chap.  X.      OBJECTIVE  AND  SUBJECTIVE  RELIGION.  499 

power.  To  how  many  is  there  no  reality  without 
bodily  form,  without  at  least  the  outline,  the  symbol 
suggestive  of  bodily  form  1  With  the  vulgar,  at  least 
it  does  not  rebuke  the  rudest,  coarsest  superstition  ;  for 
the  more  educated,  the  symbol  refines  itself  almost  to 
spirituality. 

With  a  large  part  of  mankind,  a  far  larger  no  doubt 
of  womankind,  whose  sensibilities  are  in  general  more 
quick  and  intense  than  the  reasoning  faculties,  Christian 
emotion  will  still  either  be  the  whole  of  religion,  or  the 
measure,  and  the  test  of  religion.  Doubtless  some 
primary  elements  of  religion  seem  intuitive,  and  are 
anterior  to,  or  rise  without  the  consciousness  of  any 
reasoning  process,  whose  office  it  is  to  confirm  and 
strengthen  them  —  the  existence  of  God  and  of  the 
Infinite,  Divine  Providence,  the  religious  sense  of  right 
and  wrong,  retribution ;  more  or  less  vaguely  the  im- 
mortalitv  of  the  soul.  Other  doctrines  will  ever  be 
assumed  to  be  as  eternal  and  immutable.  With  re- 
gard to  these,  the  religious  sentiment,  which  lives  upon 
religious  emotion,  will  be  as  reluctant  to  appeal  to  the 
slow,  cold  verdict  of  the  judgment.  Their  evidence 
is  their  power  of  awakening,  keeping  alive,  and  render- 
ing more  intense  the  feeling,  the  passion  of  reverence, 
of  adoration,  of  awe  and  love.  To  question  them  is 
impiety ;  to  examine  them  perilous  imprudence ;  to  re- 
ject them  misery,  the  most  dreary  privation.  Emo- 
tional religion  —  and  how  large  a  part  of  the  religion 
of  mankind  is  emotional  I  —  refuses  any  appeal  from 
itself. 

Latin  Christianity,  too,  will  continue  to  have  a  firmer 
hold  on  the  nations  of  Latin  descent ;  of  those  whose 
languages  have  a  dominant  affinity  with  the  Latin.     It 


600  LATIN  CHRISTIANTTT.  Book  XIV. 

• 

is  not  even  clear  whether  it  maj  not  have  some  secret 
charm  for  those  instmcted  in  Latin  ;  at  all  events,  with 
them  the  religious  language  of  Latin  Christiani^  being 
more  intelligible,  hardly  more  than  an  antiquated  and 
sacred  dialect  of  their  own»  will  not  so  peremptorily 
demand  its  transferrence  into  the  popular  and  vemaco- 
lar  tongue. 

But  that  which  is  the  strength  of  Latin  Christianity 
in  some  regions,  in  some  periods,  with  some  races,  with 
some  individual  minds,  is  in  other  lands,  times,  nationB, 
and  minds  its  fatal,  irremediable  principle  of  decay  and 
dissolution ;  and  must  become  more  so  with  the  ad- 
vancement of  mankind  in  knowledge,  especially  in  hi^ 
torical  knowledge.  That  authority  which  is  here  a 
sacred,  revered  despotism,  is  there  an  usurpation,  an 
intolerable  tyranny.  The  Teutonic  mind  never  eat- 
tirely  threw  off  its  innate  independence.  The  long 
feuds  of  the  Empire  and  the  Papacy  were  but  a  nkb 
and  premature  attempt  at  emancipation  from  a  yoke  to 
which  Rome  had  submitted  her  conqueror.  Had  the 
Emperors  not  striven  for  the  mastery  of  the  Latin  world, 
had  they  stood  aloof  from  Italy,  even  then  the  iasoe 
might  have  been  different.  A  Teutonic  Emperor  had 
been  a  more  formidable  antagonist.  But  it  is  not  the 
authority  of  the  Pope  alone,  but  that  of  the  sacerdotal 
order,  against  which  there  is  a  deep,  irresistible  insur* 
rection  in  the  Teutonic  mind.  Men  have  b^un  to 
doubt,  men  are  under  the  incapacity  of  believing,  men 
have  ceased  to  believe,  the  absolutely  indispensable  ne- 
cessity of  the  intervention  of  any  one  of  their  fellow- 
creatures  between  themselves  and  the  mercy  of  GxmL 
They  cannot  admit  that  the  secret  of  their  eternal  def»» 
tination  is  undeniably  confided  to  another;  that  thej 


chap.x.    power  and  effect  of  toleration.         501 

must  walk  not  by  the  light  of  their  own  conscience, 
but  by  foreign  guidance;  that  the  Clergy  are  more 
than  messengers  with  a  mission  to  keep  up,  with  con- 
stant reiteration,  the  truths  of  the  Grospel,  to  be  pr6> 
pared  by  special  study  for  the  interpretation  of  the 
sacred  writings,  to  minister  in  the  simpler  ordinances 
of  religion ;  that  they  have  absolute  power  to  release 
from  sins :  without  omniscience  to  act  in  the  place  of 
the  Omniscient.  This,  which,  however  disguised  or 
softened  off,  is  the  doctrine  of  Latin,  of  medisBval,  of 
Papal  Christianity,  has  become  offensive,  presumptu- 
ous ;  to  the  less  serious,  ludicrous.  Of  course,  as  the 
relative  position  of  the  Clergy,  once  the  sole  masters 
of  almost  all  intellectual  knowledge,  law,  history,  fhi^ 
losophy,  has  totally  changed,  their  lofty  pretensions  jar 
more  strongly  against  the  common-sense  of  man.  Even 
the  interpretation  of  the  sacred  writings  is  no  secret 
and  esoteric  doctrine,  no  mystery  of  which  they  are  the 
sole  and  exclusive  hierophants. 

Toleration,  in  truth  —  toleration,  which  is  utterly  ir« 
reconcilable  with  the  theory  of  Latin  Christianity  — 
has  been  forced  into  the  mind  and  heart  of  Christen- 
dom, even  among  many  whose  so-called  immutable 
creed  is  in  its  irrevocable  words  as  intolerant  as  ever. 
What  was  proclaimed  boldly,  nakedly,  without  reserve, 
without  limitation,  and  as  implicitly  believed  by  little 
less  than  all  mankind,  is  now,  in  a  large  part  of  the 
civilized  world,  hardly  asserted  except  in  the  heat  of 
controversy,  or  from  a  gallant  resolution  not  to  shrink 
from  logical  consequences.  Wherever  publioly  avowed 
or  maintained,  it  is  thought  but  an  odious  adherence  to 
ignonuit  bigotry.  It  is  believed  by  a  still-diminishing 
few  that  Priest,  Cardinal,  Pope  has  the  power  of  ir- 


502  LATIN   CHBISTIANTTT.  Book  XIV. 

levocably  predeclaring  the  doom  of  his  fellow-men. 
Though  the  Latin  Church-language  may  maintain  it. 
unmitigated  severity,  it  is  eluded  by  some  admitted 
reservation,  some  implied  condition  utterly  at  variance 
with  the  peremptory  tone  of  the  old  anathema.  Ex* 
communication  is  obsolete;  the  interdict  on  a  nation 
has  not  been  heard  for  centuries ;  even  the  proscription 
of  books  is  an  idle  protest. 

The  subjective,  more  purely  internal,  less  demon* 
strative  character  of  Teutonic  religion  is  equally  im* 
patient  of  the  more  distinct  and  definite,  and  rigid  ob- 
jectiveness  of  Latin  Christianity.  That  which  seems 
to  lead  the  Southern  up  to  heaven,  the  regular  inter* 
mediate  ascending  hosts  of  Saints,  Martyrs,  Apostles, 
the  Virgin,  to  the  contemplative  Teuton  obscures  and 
intercepts  his  awful,  intuitive  sense  of  the  "Godhead, 
unspiritualizes  his  Deity,  whom  he  can  no  longer  wor* 
ship  as  pure  Spirit.  To  him  it  is  the  very  vagueness, 
vastness,  incomprehensibility  of  his  conception  of  the 
Godhead  which  proclaims  its  reality.  If  here  God 
must  be  seen  on  the  altar  in  a  materialized  form,  at 
once  visible  and  invisible ;  if  God  must  be  working  a 
perpetual  miracle ;  if  the  passive  spirit  must  await  the 
descent  of  the  Godhead  in  some  sensible  sign  or  sym- 
bol ;  —  there,  on  the  other  hand  (especially  as  the  laws 
of  nature  become  better  known  and  more  familiar,  and 
what  of  old  seemed  arbitrary  variable  agencies  are  b^ 
come  manifest  laws),  the  Deily  as  it  were  recedes  into 
more  unapproachable  majesty.  It  may  indeed  subtiluR 
itself  into  a  metaphysical  First  Cause,  may  expand  into 
a  dim  Pantheism,  but  with  the  religious  his  religion 
still  rests  in  a  wise  and  sublime  and  revered  system  of 
Providential  government  which  implies  the  Divine 
Personality. 


Chap.X.  teutonic  CHRISTIANITY.  608 

Latin,  the  more  objective  faith,  tends  to  materialism, 
to  servility,  to  blind  obedience  or  blind  guidance,  to 
the  tacit  abrogation,  if  not  the  repudiation,  of  the  moral 
influence  by  the  undue  elevation  of  the  dogmatic  and 
ritual  part.  It  is  prone  to  become,  as  it  has  become, 
Paganism  with  Christian  images,  symbols,  and  terms ; 
it  has,  in  its  consummate  state,  altogether  set  itself 
above  and  apart  from  Christian,  from  universal  mo- 
rality, and  made  what  are  called  works  of  faith  the 
whole  of  religion :  the  religion  of  the  murderer,  who, 
if  while  he  sheathes  his  dagger  in  the  heart  of  his  vic- 
tim, he  does  homage  to  an  image  of  the  Virgin,  is  still 
religious  ;  ^  the  religion  of  the  tyrant,  who,  if  he  retires 
in  Lent  to  sackcloth  and  ashes,  may  live  the  rest  of 
the  year  in  promiscuous  concubinage,  and  slaughter 
his  subjects  by  thousands.  So  Teutonic  Christian- 
ity, more  self<lepending,  more  self-guided,  more  self- 
wrought  out,  is  not  without  its  peculiar  dangers.  It 
may  become  self-sufficient,  unwarrantably  arrogant, 
impatient  not  merely  of  control,  but  of  all  subordina- 
tion, incapable  of  just  self-estimation.  It  will  have  a 
tendency  to  isolate  the  man,  either  within  himself  or 
as  a  member  of  a  narrow  sect,  with  all  the  evils  of 
sectarianism,  blind  2seal,  obstinate  self-reliance,  or  rather 
self-adoration,  hatred,  contempt  of  others,  moroseness, 
exclusiveness,  fanaticism,  undue  appreciation  of  small 
things.  It  will  have  its  own  antinomianism,  a  disso- 
ciation of  that  mond  and  religious  perfection  of  man 
which  is  Christianity ;  it  will  appeal  to  conscious  di- 
rect influences  of  Divine  Grace  with  as  much  confi- 
dence, and  as  little  discrimination  or  judgment,  as  the 

1  Bead  what  Mr.  Coleridge  lued  to  call  the  sublime  of  Ronan  Catholic 
Antinomianism.    CaldeTx>n,  Devocion  de  la  Cmz. 


604  LATIN  CHMSTIANTTT.  BookXIT. 

Latin  to  that  through  the  intennediate  hierarchy  and 
ritual  of  the  Church. 

Its  intellectual  faith  will  be  more  robust ;  nor  will 
its  emotional  be  less  profound  and  intense.  But  the 
strength  of  its  intellectual  faith  (and  herein  is  at  once 
its  glory  and  its  danger)  will  know  no  limits  to  its 
daring  speculation.  How  far  Teutonic  Christianity 
may  in  some  parts  already  hare  gone  almost  cm*  abso- 
lutely  beyond  the  pale  of  Christianity,  how  fiir  it  may 
have  lost  itself  in  its  unrebuked  wanderings,  posterity 
only  will  know.  What  distinctness  of  oonception, 
what  precision  of  language,  may  be  indispensable  to 
true  faith ;  what  part  of  the  ancient  dogmatic  system 
may  be  allowed  silently  to  fall  into  disuse,  as  at  least 
superfluous,  and  as  beyond  the  proper  range  of  hu- 
man thought  and  human  language;  how  fiir  the  Sa- 
cred records  may,  without  real  peril  to  their  truths 
be  subjected  to  closer  investigation ;  to  what  wider 
interpretation,  especially  of  the  Semitic  porti(»i,  those 
records  may  submit,  and  wisely  submit,  in  order  te 
harmonize  them  with  the  irrefutable  conclusions  of 
science;  how  far  the  Eastern  veil  of  allegory  which 
hangs  over  their  truth  may  be  lifted  or  tcNcn  away  to 
show  their  unshadowed  essence;  how  far  the  poetic 
vehicle  through  which  truth  is  conveyed  may  be  gently 
severed  from  the  truth ;  —  all  this  must  be  left  to  the 
future  historian  of  our  religion.  As  it  is  my  own 
confident  belief  that  the  words  of  Christ,  and  his  words 
alone  (the  primal,  indefeasible  truths  of  Christianity), 
shall  not  pass  away ;  so  I  cannot  presume  to  say  that 
men  may  not  attain  to  a  clearer,  at  the  same  time 
more  full  and  comprehensive  and  balanced  sense  of 
those  words,  than  has  as  yet  been  generally  received 


Chap.  X.  TEUTONIC  CHRISTIANITY.  605 

in  the  Christian  world.  As  all  else  is  transient  and 
mutable,  these  only  eternal  and  universal,  assuredly, 
whatever  light  may  be  thrown  on  the  mental  consti- 
tution of  man,  even  on  the  constitution  of  nature,  and 
the  laws  which  govern  the  world,  will  be  concentred 
so  as  to  give  a  more  penetrating  vision  of  those  un- 
dying truths.  Teutonic  Christianity  (and  this  seems 
to  be  its  mission  and  privilege),  however  nearly  in 
its  more  perfect  form  it  may  already  have  approxi- 
mated,  may  approximate  still  more  closely  to  the  ab- 
solute and  perfect  faith  of  Christ ;  it  may  discover 
and  establish  the  sublime  unison  of  religion  and  rea- 
son ;  keep  in  tone  the  triple-chorded  harmony  of  faith, 
holiness,  and  charity ;  assert  its  own  full  freedom,  know 
the  bounds  of  that  freedom,  respect  the  freedom  of 
others.  Christianity  may  yet  have  to  exercise  a  far 
wider,  even  if  more  silent  and  untraceable  influence, 
through  its  primary,  all-penetrating,  all-pervading  prin- 
ciples, on  the  civilization  of  mankind. 


INDEX. 


Jibeys  plnndered  by  gnat  prelates,  iii. 

.  886.    Property  of,  Tiii.  152. 

JUtdieatioHj  Papal.     See  Ooelestine  Y. 

Abitardy  It.  180.  His  birth  and  youth, 
196.  At  Parin.  197.  His  theology,  199. 
VUght  with  Heloisa,  202.  Marriage  and 
mutilation.  208.  Resumes  lectures, 
204.  His  treatise  on  the  Trinity  con- 
demned by  Council  of  Soissons,  206. 
His  contest  with  monks  of  St.  Oenys, 
206.  Founds  ''  The  Paraclete,"  207. 
Abbot  of  St.  GUd  <s  in  Brittany,  209. 
Hill  letters,  210.  Challenge  to  St.  Ber- 
nard, 211.  Appeals  to  Rome,  214.  Is 
condemned  at  Rome,  218.  Protected 
at  Clugny,  219.  His' death  and  bur- 
ial at  the  Paraclete,  220.  Opinions, 
221.    *<  Sic  et  Non,"  224. 

Absolwe  porerty,  question  of.  Til.  66. 
Asserted  by  Franciscan  Cliapter  of  Pe- 
ruglaj  68. 

AbeeUUton.  fbrm  ol,  among  Templars,  vi. 
468. 

Mmbeker.  successor  of  Mohammed,  ii. 
160. 

AeaeitUy  bisbop  of  Constantinople,  over- 
throws Basillscus,  i.  822.  His  power 
and  ambition,  8So.  Disputes  Roman 
supremacy,  826.  His  strife  with  Pope 
Felix,  881. 

Arerroy  Thomas  of,  r.  851. 

A£/€Merony  Bishop  of  Laon.  iii.  206. 

Adalbert^  son  of  Berengar,  Hi.  174.  Takes 
refuge  with  Saraoens,  179.  His  league 
with  Pope  John  XII.,  180. 

AdalBfTt  II.  (the  Rich),  Marquis  of  Tus- 
cany, iii.  156.  Marries  Bertha  —  de- 
Ibated  by  Lambert,  166.  GOs  power, 
167. 

Adalbert  of  Bremen,  iii.  888.  His  influ- 
enee  over  Henry  IV.,  934.  Combina- 
tion against,  888.    Fall  of,  889,  840. 

Adelaide y  Empress,  accuses  Henry  lY., 
iiL  619,  520. 


AFIIOA. 

Adtkttdey  widow  of  Lothair,  perseeutsd 
by  Berengar — marries  Otho  the  Great, 
iii.  176. 

Adelchixy  son  of  Desiderius,  il.  448.  Ob- 
tains aid  from  Constantinople,  452. 

Adelgis,  Duke  of  Bt^neTento,  iii.  87. 

Adeodatusy  Pope,  il.  288. 

Adhemcwy  Bishop  of  Puy,  Papal  Legate  in 
Crusade,  ir.  48. 

Adolph  of  Nassau,  tI.  281.  King  of  Ro- 
mans, 282.  Conditions  of  his  election, 
238.  His  alliance  with  England,  285. 
Stain  in  battle,  286. 

Adolph.  Archbishop  of  Cologne,  deposed, 
It.  619.    Restored.  584. 

AdoptianSj  sect  of,  ii.  ^99. 

Adriatiople,  battle  of,  t.  128. 

Mneas  SjItIus  Piccolomini  (Pius  IT.), 
Til.  666.  His  secret  influence,  Tiii.  64. 
I^rentage  and  youth,  66.  His  Journey 
to  England  and  Scotland,  67.  Immo- 
rality, 72.  At  Basle,  74.  His  History, 
76.  Hostility  to  Eugenius  IV.,  76. 
RecoTers  from  the  plague,  78.  ^re- 
tory  to  Felix  V.,  80.  Secretary  to  Em- 
peror, 81.  His  time-serring,  82.  In 
holy  orders,  84.  Letters  of,  86.  Comes 
round  to  Eugenius,  87.  His  mission 
to  Italy,  88.  Apology  to  Pope,  80. 
Mnde  Papal  Secretary,  90.  At  Frank* 
fort  —  his  journey  to  Rome,  91.  Again 
at  FmMkfbrt.  94.  His  danger  and  con- 
duct, 96.  Gains  OTer  Diet  to  the  Pope, 
96  Made  Bishop  of  Trieste,  96.  At 
Milan,  103.  At  Tabor  in  Bohemia, 
109.  Bishop  of  Sienna.  109.  Legate 
in  Gwmany,  114.  His  aread  of  Turks, 
118  Popedom  and  character,  120. 
Letter  to  Mahomet  II.,  121.  Zeal 
against  Turks,  122. 

AJrica^  the  parent  of  Latin  Christianity, 
i.  57.    Importance  of  to  Latin  Emptra, 

261.  Suffers    from    Donatist  schism, 

262.  (.'rnelties  of  the  Vandals  in,  468. 
Conquest  by  Belisarius,  466.  Retains 
Donatist  heresy,  ii.  66.  Moliammsdan 
conquest  of,  ISL 


508 


INDEX. 


ATUCAN. 

AfHean  Chareh.  ita  relatioiu  with  Roman 
See,  i.  268.  Its  difflcnltiee,  264.  As- 
serts iDdependenoe  of  Rome.  267.  Suf- 
ftirings  of  under  Vandals,  260.  Its 
reduced  state (11th  century),  ili.  894. 

Jg«g>etuSy  Pope,  ambassador  to  Constan- 
tinople, i.  458.  His  reception,  459. 
Dispute  with  Justinian,  460.  Triumph 
and  death,  461. 

Agaiho,  Pope,  ii.  288. 

AgUulph,  King  of  Lombards,  il.  77.  At- 
tacks Rome,  77. 

Agnes,  Empress,  guardian  of  Henzy  lY., 
iii.  290.  Weak  position  of,  828.  Her 
monastic  feelings,  487. 

Jgfus  of  Meran  marries  PUUp  Augus- 
tus, ir.  541,  542.  Her  separation.  5^. 
Dies,  554. 

Aidan^  Bishop  of  Lindisfkme,  ii.  192 

AiUff,  Peter  d'.  Cardinal  of  Cambray, 
his  miiwion  to  rival  popes  —  at  Rome, 
▼il.  283.  At  Avignon,  284.  His  ser- 
mon at  Constance,  448.  Extends  right 
of  suffrage,  459. 

Aiscelin,  Oilles  d',  Archbishop  of  Nar- 
bonne,  ▼!.  428. 

Aix-ia-ChapelU,  U.  472. 

Aix4aCkapeUe,  Diet  of,  U.  517.  Legis- 
lates for  the  Church,  520  Its  inde- 
pendence of  Rome,  520.  Seitlea  the 
succession  to  the  empire,  522,  528. 

Alainto  de  Lentini  deifends  Meosina,  tI. 
160  164 

Jiarii  defeated  by  Stilicho,  1.  144.  Hli 
second  ioTasion  of  Italy,  148.  Be 
degas  Rome,  148.  Accepts  ransom, 
150.  Sets  up  Attalus,  as  Emperor. 
152.  His  final  capture  of  Rome,  158. 
Spares  Christian  churches  and  sacred 
▼easels  156. 

Alberic,  son  of  Maroiia,  ill.  160.  Rises 
against  Hugh  of  Provence  —  Lord  of 
Rome,  169.    His  rule  and  death,  174. 

JJberit  da  Romano  tortured  to  death,  vi. 
54. 

AAert  of  Austria,  letter  of  Gregory  IX. 
to,  ▼.  867. 

Albert  of  Austria,  Emperor,  vi.  281.  De- 
ftats  Adolph  of  Nassau,  286.  Ezcom- 
manlcatad,  287.  Alliance  of  with 
Philip  the  Fair,  808.  ReconciliaUon 
with  Pope,  880.  His  oath,  881.  Mur- 
dered, 412. 

AlUrt  of  Aoatila,  King  of  the  RoBaos, 
▼Ul.  77. 

Albtrt  von  Beham,  ▼.  488.  489. 

Albert,  Archbishop  of  Mentx,  Iv.  108. 

ilbirt  the  Great.  viU.  219, 254.  His  birth 
and  teaching,  267.  His  learning — lee- 
(ures  on  Aristotle,  2S9.  Theology  of, 
990.    Philosophy.  265. 

JAs,  horeeies  in,  ▼.  147. 

AMgeiuian  war,  ▼.  185.  Innocent  m.'B 
conduct  in,  279. 


ALTKin. 

Albigensians.     See  Waldanaea. 

Albinus,  i.  487. 

Aiboin.  ii.  74.    His  death,  74. 

AlbomoXf  Cardinal,  legate  in  Italy*  ^tt- 
208.  Appoints  Riemd  senator,  Xft. 
Restores  Papal  power.  207.  ReeaivM 
Urban  V.  In  Italy  —  his  dsath,  216. 

Akuin,  ii.  508. 

Aid/rid,  King  of  Northnmbxia,  his  dis- 
pvles  ^ith  Wilfrid,  U.  219.  Hfa  i«- 
monie  and  death.  221. 

Aldhelm  of  Malmesbury,  Ii.  280. 

Alexander  II.  (AuMlm  of  Badagio).  fli. 
812.  Resists  marriage  of  clergy,  815. 
Elected  Pope  by  Cardinals.  821.  De- 
feated by  GadaloHS,  8>7.  His  eleetioB 
confirmed  at  Augsburg.  882  ;  and  ai 
Mantua,  841  Dies,  868.  Sane 
Norman  inv:«8ioM  of  England.  892- 

Alexander  III.,  Pope,  disputed 
of,  iv.  288.  Kimuimaakatea  Vrakwiek 
Barbaroasa,  393.  Hla  vojaae  to  Fxhml 
294.  Hte  relations  with  Becket,  SBV, 
Holda  council  at  Toun,  887.  Ab- 
aolves  Becket,  840.  His  iiabaiiaw 
ment  and  heaitation,  841,  8i«,  an. 
Gains  possession  of  Rome,  886.  9aa> 
pends  Becketa  sentaneas,  K^  80. 
Absolves  Bishops  of  London  and  8alfo> 
buiy,  880.  Hia  eoaneetion  with 
et's  career,  425.  Reception  of,  at 
427.  Makes  peace  with  Anpww  nft 
Venice,  483.    Hto  death,  438. 

Alexander  IT.,  Pope,  vi.  41.  ITiiltM 
English  against  Manfred,  48.  Hie  eoo. 
test  with  Brancaleooe,  46.  His  antip- 
athy to  Manfred,  61.  Fkvon  frian, 
68.  His  Bull  to  Univetaity  of  J^ifa, 
70.    His  death.  80. 

Alexander  V.,  his  obaeara  origin,  vIL  SO. 
Favors  Franciscans.  881.  Hia  BnU  In 
fevor  of  frian,  828.  Moiann  i 
826.    His  death.  828. 

Alexander  the  Mason,  oouneiUsr  off  KJ^g 
John,  V.  81. 

Alexandria^  qoanaii  at,  i.  816. 

Alexandria  (in  Piedmont).  Its  IbantetiaBL 
iv.  481,  482. 

Alexius  Comnenns,  hia  Jaalonqr  of  Cm* 
aadera,  iv.  40. 

Alexius  Comnenns  the  Elder,  depoaaa 
and  blinds  his  brother  Isaac,  v.  88. 
His  flicht.  108. 

Alexius  Gomnanns  the  YonnfBr, 
from   prison  —  fliaa   to  Rone,   v. 
Appeals  to  Crusadefs  at  Vaolea,  98. 
His  treaty  with  Cm«adan  at  Zara,  98. 

AUbnto  of  CastUe,  vl.  100. 

Al/onsoy  King  of  Leon,  ▼.  68. 

AffonaOf  King  of  Amnion,  vi.  ITL  On 
treaty  with  Chailaa  the  Lane,  178. 
Hia  death,  177. 

Alfonso^  of  Arragon.  vlU.  68. 

J^<l  anointed  by  the  Pope,  m.  148»  Id^ 


moKx. 


509 


n»  WMi,  144.  Gompab  Gnthrvm  to 
1m  UptiMd,  145.  liDftma  to  read,  146. 
His  love  of  Sajcon  books,  147.  Con- 
tinues poeiUA  of  CaBdiuoa  —  his  txmatr 
latioos  from  Latin,  147. 

Jii,  MoUauiuied's  Msooad  coaYert.  U.  126, 
126.    His  honor  and  loyalty,  161. 

AUegorical  paiutingii  tU.  160w 

Allegory,  viii.  879. 

AUUerative  v«i^«,  Tiii.  871. 

AlMtf,  dflsolatioa  of.  U.  288. 

AUtnaHy  fiuhop  of  Passau,  iU.  419.  Pa- 
pal legate  at  Tribnr,  447. 

AmuJeiti  of  daToy.     Set  Felix  T. 

Amalaxuntka^  widow  of  Theodorio.  iiia»- 
rieo  TiModotos,  i.  466.  Put  to  (death, 
466. 

Auiatory  poetry,  monkish,  tIU.  8S1. 

Amaury  do  Bene,  tIU.  247. 

Ambrose,  St.,  of  Milan,  i.  122, 128.  His 
anthority  quoted  for  marriaoe  of  clenrr, 
iil.  818.  -,  , 

AmmioHuSy  1. 109. 

AjBumsr.  St.,  ^Villiam,  resists  Friars,  yi. 
69.  HU  ^  Perils  of  the  Last  Times,'' 
74.    His  exile  and  popuUrity,  76. 

AnaeUtus  II.,  Antlpope,  It.  168.  Holds 
St.  AngBlo,  178.    His  death,  174. 

Atuureontics,  religions,  rlii.  320. 

Atuigni  thraateiMd  by  Bomans,  iL  48. 
Bonifboe  Vm.  at,  847.  Betrays  Pope, 
852.  Keecues  hha.  866.  CanUnals  at, 
▼U.240. 

ibwsfoMaM,  Smneror,  i.  832.  Enforces 
toleration,  883.     Deposes  Bishop  Bu- 

Shendus^  884.  His  aUeged  Mauiche- 
im,  887.  Dispute  with  Hacedonlns, 
888.  Critical  position  of,  840.  Hin  hu- 
mlUation,  848.    Appeals  to  Pope  Hor- 

8isd4S,  428.     Refects  oonditious,  ^7, 
8.    His  death,  429. 
Am»sta»ius  I.,  Pope,  i.  124. 
AMOstaaius  II.,  Pope,  his  leniency,  i.  849. 

His  death  —  his  memoir  detested,  350. 
AmataMu$  IV.,  Pope,  It.  268. 
AHOSUuius,    Bishop   of  Constantinople, 

his  intrigues  for  ArtaTaadus,  U.  824 

His  punbhmeut,  826. 
Ancomij  si^ge  of,  ir.  428. 
Andrew's,  St ,  head,  Tiii.  220. 
Andrew,  King  of  Hungary,  his  eon^r- 

aion,  iU.  272.   His  war  with  Henry  III., 

272. 
Aitdrew,  King  of  Hungary,  v.  71.    Grants 

Golden  Bull.  72.    His  crusade,  287. 
Andrew  of  Hungary  murdered,  vii.  148. 
Andronieus,  Greek  Bmperor,  restores  in- 
dependence of  Greek  Cliurch.  ▼!.  187. 
AngeiOy  St.,  siege  of,  ril.  293. 
Angels,  belief  regarding,  ii.  94 :  viii.  189, 

278.    Orders  of,  192. 
AnglO'Norman  hiemrchy,  It.  301. 
A^ijfiO'Saacon  Christianity,  Till.  368. 
Aii^Saxon  Curistian  poetry,  ii.  280. 


ABAKO. 

Angto-aaxam  Church,  dlTtsions  In,  11. 
196.    Monastidsm  of,  206. 

Anglo-Saxon  clergy,  decay  of,  ir.  2i)B. 
Kesist  Roman  clergy,  800. 

Attgio'Saron  lanf  uage.  Tin.  862. 

Anglo-Saxon  mimionaries.  Tiii.  864. 

Anglo- Saxon»,  their  heathenism,  ii.  176. 
Bxpel  Christianity  from  Britain,  17 ». 
CiTilia^  by  Chrintianity,  196.  Their 
zeTerenoe  for  Home,  200.  Churoh 
music  among,  281,  232.  Their  law8, 
282,  288.  Their  bitthopric*.  288,  284. 
Cfaristianitv  of,  \r.  296. 

Annate*,  tU.  270,  516.  619. 

Anne  of  Bohemia,  Til.  404. 

Ansckar,  his  visions,  iii.  186,  137.  His 
miraion  to  Denmark.  189  ;  to  Sweden, 
189.    Archbishop  of  Usmburg,  189. 

Anselm  of  Badagio.     Stf  Alexander  II. 

Anselm,  Bishop  of  Lucca,  iii.  490. 

Anselm,  St.,  at  Bee.  It.  198.  His  phi- 
loeophy,  194.  Aroubbthop  of  Canter- 
bury —  resists  the  crown,  808.  Was 
premature,  viii.  287. 

Anspert,  Archbishop  of  .Milan,  HI.  96y 
805. 

AnthemiuSf  Bmperor  of  the  West.  i.  818. 

Anthimus,  Bishop  of  Coustautinople, 
opposed  by  Agapetus  and  d^^ded, 
i.  460. 

Anthropomorphism  of  popular  Christian- 
ity, Tiii.  188,  261. 

Antioeh,  disturbances  in,  i.  818,  885. 

Antisacerdotalism^  T.  136.  Spreads  among 
burghers,  140.  In  South  of  France, 
147. 

Antisaeerdotalists,  Biblical,  t.  149. 

Anlonina  degrades  Pope  SUverius,  i.  468. 

Antonius,  Bishop  of  Fuseola.  i.  264.  His 
appeal  |o  tn«  Pope,  264. 

Antony  of  Padua,  a  Franciscan,  t.  270. 
Hitf  prf aching,  271. 

Aptarius  presbyter  at  Sicca,  i-  266.  De- 
posed —  appeals  to  Pope  Zosimus,  266. 
Confesses  his  guilt,  264 

Apostles  uf  Parma,  vii.  3^,  42. 

Appeal  to  Rome.  arofH!  out  of  prorincial 
jealousies,  i.  270  Subjected  to  royal 
consent.  It.  398. 

Apulia,  war  in,  t.  870.  Conspiracy  in, 
against  Frederick  II.,  484. 

Aquinas,  Thomas,  death  of,  Ti.  ISO.  One 
of  flTe  great  Schoolmen,  Tiii.  254.  His 
early  lifo,  265.  His  authority,  death, 
and  canonisation,  267.  His  ''Sum  of 
Theology,'  267.  Hid  opinions,  268. 
His  phih'Bophy,    269,  272. 

Arabia,     independence     and     supposed 
wealth  of,  ii.  110.    United  under  Mo- 
hammed, 183. 
Arabian  Jews,  tt.  ]29«  180. 

iira&/«  philosophy,  TiU.  243, 252.  School*, 

246. 
Arabic,  translations  from,  tUL  2ld. 


610 


INDEX. 


AKAB8 

Arabs^  their  Immutable  chAimcter,  it  112, 
118.    Their  love  of  war  and  rapine,  118. 

Arbon^  moDMtery  of,  ii.  244. 

Arch,  principle  of,  viii.  414. 

Arehitects,  eccleriastic.  Tiii.  481.  Ponign, 
448 

ArehiUeture,  Gbristiaiu  viii.  100.  Faith- 
Ail  to  the  church,  409.  Chriatiao,  lint 
epoch  of,  411.  Roman,  412.  Oreek 
and  Latin,  414.  Bjiantine,  418. 
Church,  influenced  by  ritual,  422. 
Ghriiitian,  pn^preidiTe,  424.  Lombud 
or  liomaiiMque,  482.  Norman,  488. 
Gothic,  487.  Aibcted  by  climate,  446. 
Medifeval,  486. 

ArdoiHy  Maniuia  of  iTrea,  iii.  222. 

Ariald,  iii  816.  His  itriib  with  Qnldo, 
846,  346.    Ub  flight  and  death,  847. 

Arian  clerffv  (Goths),  their  moderation, 
i.  4^4.     were  probably  Teutonic,  647. 

ArianUm  of  Teutonic  converts,  i.  871, 
877.  It*  propagators  unknown,  872. 
or  Goths,  418.  Put  an  end  to  in 
Spain,  ii.  tO.    In  Gaul,  70. 

Aristotelian  philosophy,  viii.  246. 

Aristotle^  Arabic  adoption  of,  viii.  248. 
Dialectics  of,  246.  Condemned  at 
Paris,  248.  Versions  of,  from  Arabic, 
249.    Becomes  known  in  original,  260. 

ArUs^  Council  of,  i.  102.  Archbishopric 
of,  271. 

Aries,  Cardinal  of,  vUi.  64.  At  Diet  of 
Frankfort,  94. 

Amauti,  William,  Inquisitor  at  ToulDuae, 
murdered,  vi.  86. 

Arnold  of  Brescia,  iv.  180,  229.  A  disci- 
ple of  Abilard,  280.  His  Republican- 
ism, 281,  282.     Preaches  in  Brescia, 

288.  Condemned  by  Laterau  Council, 
flies  to  Zurich,  288.  Protected  by  Gui- 
do  di  Castello,  237.  Persecuted  by  St. 
Bernard,  288.    Revered  by  Waldenaes, 

289.  Ill  Rome,  239.  Decline  of  his  In- 
fluence, 262.  Banished,  266.  Seiied 
and  exec  u  ted,  271.  Revival  of  his  opin- 
ions, V.  187. 

Arnold,  Abbot,  Papal  Legate  in  Langue- 
doc,  V.  192.  Persecutes  Count  Ray- 
mond, 197.  Made  Archbishop  of  Nar- 
bonue,  206.  Charges  against,  206.  At 
Latemii  Council,  212. 

JriMi^invades  Italy  —  sacks  Bergamo,iii. 
106, 107.  His  second  invasion  —  enters 
Bome  —  crowned  Kmperor,  109.  His 
sudden  illness  and  retreat,  109. 

Amulf^  Archbishop  of  Rheims,  iii.  206. 
His  treachery  to  Hugh  Capet,  206.  Is 
iMtrayed  and  imprisoned,  2k)6.  His 
deposition,  200. 

Amul/,  Bishop  of  Orleans,  his  speech 
agslnst  corruption  of  papacy,  iii.  210. 

Arni4iony  aOaiis  of^  v.  66.  Made  feuda- 
tory to  Pope,  67.  The  noblaa  and  peo- 
ple remonatiate,  6B. 


ATNiroir. 

Amgon,  House  of,    repi 
MaJDfted,  vi.  149.    Frandeeaa  prophe 
cies  about,  vii.  44. 

Arseniusy  Papal  Legate  in  Fiance,  iii.  6L 
Reinstates  Queen  Theutbeiga,  63.  Hie 
flight  and  death,  67. 

Art,  devotional,  ii.  296.  Objects  of.  848. 
Conventional,  viii.  468.  Dewlopaieiit 
of,  474.  Cultivated  by  Mendicant  or- 
ders,  479.     German  —  Flenush,  484. 

Ariaveudus  usurps  throne  of  Constanti- 
nople, ii.  824.  Is  defeated  and  blioded. 
826. 

ArtJuir,  King,  legends  of.  viii.  867. 

Arthur,  Prince,  death  of,  v.  17. 

Arunddf  Archbishop  of  Ouiterbonr.  vii- 
408.    Accuses  Lord  Cobham,  4Ii . 

Asehpalter.  Peter,  Arehbiahop  at  Meats, 
vi.  472,  611 :  vii.  60. 

Asiatie  Christianity,  feebleness  of,  ii.  HA. 

Assist,  birthplace  of  St.  Francis,  v.  964. 
Splendor  of  church  at,  vUi.  470,  480. 

Astolph,  Lombard  king,  selKS  Baveans, 
ii.  41  r.  Threatens  Borne,  418.  De- 
feated by  Franks — obtains  peace— 
besieges  Rome,  422.  Yields  to  Pepla, 
426.    His  denth,  427. 

Axfflum^  in  Barbaric  law,  i.  681, 680. 

Atka'ane.  son  of  Theodoric,  raised  to 
throne  of  Italy  —  his  death,  i.  460. 
Laws  of  on  church  matten,  615. 

AJthamasian  creed,  i.  100. 

Atkanasiu»y    1.  Oi.    His   aeoeadency  at 
Rome,  100.    Supported  bv  Pope  Iflie 
rius.  108. 

Athananus,  Bishop-Duke  of  Naplea,  flL 
88.  Unites  with  the  Bancvna,  90. 
Bzcommunicated  by  John  Till.,  kdi 
intrigues,  98. 

Attains  made  Kmperor  by  Alaiie,  L  IB. 
Deposed  by  him,  168. 

Attila,  his  unbounded  power,  1.800. 
invasion    of    Italy,    801. 
Rome,  801.     IndiMed  to  retire  by  Lao 
I.,  801.    Probable  causes  of  this,  801. 

Aeerrhoes,  vUi.  246,  262. 

Augustine,  .St.,  his  **City  of  God,"  i.  ICL 
Opposes  Pttlagius,  166.    The  kadcr  ef 
Latin  theology,  170.    Opinions  on  ia- 
fent  baptism,  171.     Peneeuise   Pi^ 
glana,  186. 18i . 

Augustine,  his  miaaion  to  Britain,  il.  66, 
178.  His  meeting  with  Etbelbert,  17B. 
Bishop  of  Canterbury,  180.  His  41ft- 
pute  with  British  clerg>-,  188.  Hto  as- 
tabiishment  at  Canterbury,  184. 

Augustinianism  coincides  with 
system,  1.  172.     On 
original  sin,  174.    Similar  to 
ism,  176.     RziUto  ceUbacy,  176. 

Augustus,  title  of  lUeoai,  vii.  160. 

Af^ctnna,  viU.  246,  %2. 

Avignon,  Pope  Clement  T.  at,  vl. 
ConsUtoiy  at,  490.    Its  poUtioal  rfl 


INDEX. 


511 


tlon,  tH.  16.  Becomes  qeat  of  pope- 
dom, 20.  Court  of,  under  Clement  vl., 
186.  Immorality  at,  138.  Sold  to 
Pope,  148.  Conristorr  of,  196.  Con- 
elare  at,  its  statutes,  TOO.  Papal  reri- 
denoe  at  oonoluded,  226.  Siege  of, 
286 

AauaUz,  battle  of,  Tii.  647. 

Autharisj  Uia  of  Lombards,  his  wan 
with  the  franks,  ii.  76.  Orerruns 
Italy,  76.    Uis  death,  76. 

Autorraefy  Pftp*l,  iprowth  of,  iT.  460. 

Aviiuty  Bii«hop  of  Tienne,  adheres  to  Clo> 
▼is,  i.  882.  His  ctmference  with  Gunde- 
bald.  888. 

AxtvedOy  Bishop  of  Oima,  ▼.  241. 


B. 


JBodyton,  name  applied  to  Rome,  ril.  86, 

<<  Babylomsh  captiTity  "  ended,  Tii.  226. 

Bacon,  Lord,  Tiii.  296. 

Baeotiy  Roger,  Tiil.  288.  At  Oxlbrd, 
289.  His  studies,  290.  Persecuted  by 
Nicolas  IV.,  291.  Dedicates  worlc  to 
Clement  IV.,  292.  His  astrology,  294. 
His  science  and  discoreries,  296. 

Beuibeey  John,  burned,  Tii.  416. 

Baidunn^  Count  of  Flanders,  Joins  the 
crusade,  ▼.  86.  At  Zara,  99.  Bmper- 
or  of  Constantinople,  106.  His  address 
to  Pope,  112.    His  captiTity,  120. 

Bitf.Johu,  711.887. 

Batthasar  Cosm.     i8lr«  John  XXIII. 

BanUterg,  Diet  at,  iv.  616.  Its  answer  to 
Pope  Innocent  III.,  617. 

Bankers^  Italian,  tI.  2S6. 

Bannerets,  at  Rome,  Tii.  277. 

Saptisrny  iiifiint,  question  of,  ▼.  142.  Com- 
pulsory, Tiii.  906. 

Baptisteries^  Tlii.  484. 

Barbaric  codes,  aflbcted  by  Christianity, 
i.  481.    Were  national,  614.     Rights  o^ 

gvnona  under,  627.  On  slarery,  627. 
n  sLaves'  marriages,  628.  On  the 
slaying  of  slaves,  680.  On  runaway 
slaTes,  681.  On  adultery  and  divorce, 
683.  Oo  property — on  church  prop- 
erty, 686.  Against  heresy — against 
witchcraft,  642. 

Barbarossa^  Frederick.  See  Frederick 
Barbarossa. 

Barbianoj  Alberie,  tU.  249.  Besieges  No- 
eera,  266.    Bnters  papal  service,  279. 

Barolij  asuembly  of,  ▼.  847. 

Barons^  English,  commence  redstanoe  to 
King  John,  t.  48.  Demand  charter  of 
Henry  I.,  47.  Extort  Biagna  Charta, 
60.  Pope  Innocent's  letter  to,  62. 
£zcommunicated,  68. 

Barons^  Roman,  submit  to  Riensi,  vil.  166. 
Are  seised  and  pardoned,  177,  l78. 


Bsour. 

Barsvmas  the  monk,  at  Synod  of  Ephe> 
SOS,  i.  287.  At  Council  of  Ohaloedon, 
294.    His  fiictious  conduct  in  exile,  818. 

Bartholomew  of  Carcassonne,  t.  2B&. 

Basil  the  Macedonian,  murders  Michael 
III.,  and  beeomes  Emperor,  iii.  84. 
Calls  Council  at  Constantinople,  and 
deposes  Bishop  Photius,  84.  Restoiet 
him,  and  dies,  86,  87. 

Basiliau,  viii.  06,  421. 

Basiliseus  usurps  Empire  —  fitvors  Buty- 
chianism^rafdstanoe  to,  i.  821.  W» 
tkll  822. 

BasUy  Council  of,  summoned  by  Martin 
v.,  Tii.  686.  Ambassadors  from,  666. 
Right  of  voting  at,  667.  Inhibited  by 
Eugenlus  IV.,  669.  Acknowledged  by 
Pope,  661.  Asserts  supremacy,  66& 
Eminent  deputies  at.  666.  Dohemlani 
at,  667.  Proposes  reform  of  clersjr,  669. 
Dispute  in,  viii.  16.  Summons  Pope 
and  Cardinals,  18.  Declares  suspen- 
sion of  Pope,  18.  Equips  a  fleet,  22. 
Indiflerenoe  to,  86.  Jealousy  of  Pope, 
62.  Quarrels  In,  68.  Declares  depoei> 
tlon  of  Pope,  66.  Appoints  a  Conclave, 
68.  Elects  FeUx  V.,  68.  Dissolved, 
102. 

Bathildis,  Queen,  ii.  896. 

Beatific  vision,  question  of,  vU.  116. 

Beatrice,  married  to  Otho  IV.,  iv.  684. 
Her  death,  684. 

Beauforty  Cardinal,  at  Constance,  vii.  682. 
Leads  crusade  against  Hussites,  688, 
648.    His  death,  684. 

Becy  Abbey  of,  its  origin,  iv.  192.  Its 
great  churchmen,  300. 

Bechety  his  character,  iv.  806.  Legend 
of  his  parentage,  309.  His  birth  and 
education,  811,  812.  At  Rome,  814. 
Appointed  Chancellor,  816.  His  pow- 
er, 817.  Ambassador  to  Paris,  his 
splendor,  818.  Elected  Archbish^, 
£28.  His  oliange  of  manner,  8w. 
Resigns  chancellorship,  826.  Attends 
Council  of  Touze,  827.  Quarrels  with 
Henry  II.,  328,  8«),  881.  Jealousy  of, 
884.  At  Parliament  of  Westminster, 
884.  Swears  to  Constitutions  of  Clar- 
endon, 887.  Refuses  to  seal  them, 
889.    Absolved   from    oath    by  Pope, 

840.  Attempts  to  fly  from  kingdom, 

841.  Breaks  his  oath,  842.  Cited  be- 
ftnre  Council  of  Northampton  and  fined, 
848.  Condemned  Ibr  peijuiy.  849.  His 
flight,  862.  Adventurer,  8l68.  Recep- 
tion of  in  France,  868.  At  Pontlgny, 
861.  Citee  the  King,  866.  Invested 
with  legatlne  power,  867.  At  Veaelay, 
868.  Exoommnnicatefl  Henry's  adher- 
ents, 869.  At  Sens,  871.  Controversy 
with  EnffUsh  clergy,  372.  His  letter  to 
Pope,  878.  His  quarrel  with  Papal  leg- 
ates, 879,  880.    His  indignation,  88L 


612 


INDEX. 


Utter  to  the  Carditiali,  888.  At  Mont- 
inirmUf884.  His  attempted  tnatj  with 
Henry  II.,  891.  Pliioei  SngUnd  ander 
interdict,  888.  King's  proelunatloa 
•gminst.  897.  His  letter  to  hia  soflka- 
fuia,  896.  Anger  epdnst  the  Pope, 
899.  Reconciliation  with  King,  402. 
Meete  Henry  at  Tours,  405.  Resiataoee 
to  his  restoration,  406.  Lands  at  Sand- 
wich, 408.  RefuiBB  afanlntfon  to  Bish- 
ops, 409.  Annoyed  by  his  enemies,  410. 
Angry  infeerrlew  with  the  four  knights, 
418.  Murdered,  416.  Miracles.  417. 
Balnt  and  mar^r — Kin^  Hsnry's  pen- 
ance at  tomb  of,  420.  was  martyr  fbr 
olarieal  immnnlty,  421.  Verdfet  of 
posterity  upon.  428. 

Btde^  U.  224.  His  leamfaig  and  thflotogy, 
225.    His  science,  226. 

Beliaariut^  oonaoen  AlHea,  i.  466»  Sn- 
ter«  Rome,  46i. 

BmetUct  I.,  Pope,  1.  476. 

Benedict  IT..  Pope.  11. 287. 

Benadiet  III.,  Pope,  ill.  20. 

BnutHct  IV.,  Pope,  lii.  154. 

BtnMdia  v..  Pope,  ill.  184  Deposed  by 
Otho  I.,  banished,  and  dies  at  Ham- 
burg, 186. 

Benedict  YI..  Pope,  mnideied  by  Bonl- 
floio.  tti.  188. 

Beiudiet  VTI..  Pope.  lii.  188. 

Benedict  Till.,  Pope,  iii.  224.  Crowns 
Henry  II..  225.  His  nctories  orer  Sar- 
■eens,  226. 

Benedict  IX.,  Pope,  a  boy,  hia  Tioes,  iil. 
229.  Sells  the  Papacy,  280.  Keelaimt 
it,  282.  Deposed  by  Henry  HI.,  238. 
His  return  and  flight,  288. 

Benedict  X.,  Pope,  elected  by  Roman  par^ 

a,  iil.  294.    His  flight,  297.    Degrada- 
m  and  death,  297. 

Bmediet  XI.,  his  prudence,  tI.  880.  Ab- 
aolTes  Philip  the  Fair.  861.  Restores 
the  Oolonnas,  862.  His  dsath,  867. 
Alleged  to  hare  be^n  poisoned.  867. 

Benedict  XII.,  his  election  and  flnt  meaa- 
urert,  tH.  121.  Builds  palace  at  Avig 
non,  128.  Negotiates  with  Louia  of 
BaTaria,128,124.  Hte  answer  to  Philip 
of  Valois.  182.  His  refoma  and  char- 
acter. 188. 

Benedict  XIII.,  tU.  274.  Called  on  to 
renounce  Papacy,  281.  His  counter- 
prqject,  281.  His  obstinate  reftisal, 
iB4.  Besieged  in  his  palace,  285.  His 
imprisonment  and  escape.  288.  Hb 
embassy  to  Bonilkce  IX.,  290.  U>tter 
to  Gregory  XII.,  297.  In  Italy,  801. 
Bxcommunicates  French  King.  904. 
His  flight,  806.  In  Spain,  807.  HU 
Council  at  Perplgnan,  810.  Declared 
deposed  at  Pisa,  817.  His  deputies  at 
ConsUnce,  457.  His  flrmnass.  610. 
H]sd«Uh,5U. 


UMMSAKD 

Benedict  Biseop,  wwnpanlcm  of  Wttlkid, 
iL  208.  Builda  monaateiy  «t  Wmt- 
mouth — imports  painttaci  and  IfflB., 
210,' 211. 

Benedict.  Cardinal,  Legale  to  Gooelaatf- 
nople,  T.  119,  120.  Hto  ■efllaMt  of 
Latin  Church,  121. 

Benedict,  St..  of  Nnnia,  ii.  22.  Hit  a|p 
fcTOFabletonaonastieiam.28.  HisMrth 
and  parentage,  24.  IfiiafCokNM  ae- 
counts  of  his  youth,  25.  His  IsnpCa- 
tions,  26.  His  Ihme  — his  mowaeteries 
at  Subiaco,  27.  Plotted  agaioai  by 
VkHVutias,  28.  Removes  to  Monte 
Casino  ~  his  rule,  29.80.  Sqloins  la- 
bor.  80.  His  liiioiM,  88.  mi  imtmr 
Tiew  with  Totlla.  88.    His  death.  84. 

Benedictine  conTents,  thdr  rapid  spread 
in  Italy,  11.  86.  In  Fiance,  86.  In 
Btagland,  87. 

Benedictine*  in  Sngland,  iU.  885. 

Benefice*,  sale  of,  tU.  270. 

Benrvento,  admits  Leo  IX..  ifl.  257. 
tleof,  t1.  95.    Seek  of;  97. 

Benxo.  iii.  828.    His  Influeaee  at  ......^ 

and  iBfWsttves  afidnat  HUdehinnd,  Mi. 
825. 

Ar«iigMr,lianinkorivi«a,iB.178.  KIib« 
of  Italy,  175,  178.  Tkkea  ptieoncr  by 
Otho  I.,  188. 

Berengv,  Dnke  of  FiiuU,  W   108.    S»- 
ftated  by  Ouldo,  104.     His  war  with 
Louis  of  ProTenoe.  156.    Crowned  fti 
peror  at  Borne,  16l.    Mnidefed.  164. 

Berengar  of  Toun.  a  pupQ  of  Ifrige— , 
iU.  281.  Hia  opiaions  on  the  BmI 
Presence,  2S2.  At  oouncil  of  VercoUL 
265.  Condemned  by  eounell  of  Pwfs 
—  submits,  267.  feDs  recantation  — 
revokes  it,  80O.  Banawa  qaostloo  tt 
Transobstantiation.  474.  Acquitted 
by  Oie^ry  VII.,  476. 

Beren^ana^  Queen  of  Leon,  t.  68. 

Beren^er  de  Talon,  vii.  68. 

Benu^bo  Tisconti.  his  crimes,  tA.  fXt. 

Bernard.  St.,  It.  156.  His  youth,  1A. 
At  Cite%ux.  164.  Founds  Clairtaax. 
166.  His  miracles,  167.  Bn 
eaoae  of  Innocent  II.,  168-175. 
oua  of  AbAlard,  208.  Oppoaos  him  at 
Sens,  218.  His  letter  to  Inaoeent  11., 
217.  Persecutes  Arnold  of  Breecla.  288^ 
His  power  orer  Bngenlns  III.,  244.  !»> 
teifbres  in  archbishopric  of  Toik,  2A7. 
Preaches  the  Crusade.  260. 
Louis  VII.  and  Bmperor  Conrad  to 
the  Cross,  251.262.  Protects  Jew«. 
His  Crusade  &ils. 254.  HisdMth,: 
Silences  beresica  In  the  south  of  F 
V.  146.  His  conquest  tnnsltory.  147. 
165.  His  address  to  Templars,  vi.  IBB 
Hymns  ascribed  to,  ettl.  810. 

Bemmrd,  Count  de  Foix,  ▼.  208. 

Bernard  da  Qolh.    Sm  Osmit  T 


INDEX 


518 


BBRWHARO. 

Bemhard.  gnDdnon  of  CharlemBgne,  U. 
SU.  King  In  Italy,  618.  His  unsuo- 
ceflsfnl  rebellion,  6^ ;  and  death,  525. 

Bernhardt  Duke  of  SeptlmaDia.  ii.  682. 
His  flight,  534 ;  and  retarn,  537. 

JBSerfAa,  a  Fnnkiah  prinoeefl,  U.  178. 
Qoeen  of  Bthelbert,  178. 

Bertha,  wife  of  Adalbert  of  TuBcanj,  iil. 
156.    Her  ambitions  intrigues,  156. 

Berthold,  Recent  of  Naples.  ▼.  616.  His 
weakness,  617 ;  and  treacnery,  618. 

Bertholdt  of  Winterthur,  his  preeohlng, 
▼lii.  896. 

Beaanfotk,  diet  at,  It.  276. 

Bessarion  of  Nicea,  viii.  89,  42.  Cardi- 
nal, 123. 

BezierSy  siege  of,  t.  187- 

BezierSf  Yisoount  of,  his  delbnee  of 
Camissonne,  V.  188.  Dies  in  prison, 
190. 

Bianea  Lancia,  mistress  of  Frederick  IT., 
▼.  331. 

Bible,  Hebrew,  rill.  492.  Interpretation 
of,  604.  Versions  of:  —  Ynlgate,  i.  117. 
Gothic,  876.  Moravian,  iii.  124.  Pro- 
Tencal,  t.  154.  Wycliffe's,  tU.  884; 
Tiii.  884. 498.    New,  126.    German,  367. 

Biblical  Antisaoerdotalists,  t.  160.  Criti- 
cism, Till.  492. 

Biordo,  chief  of  Condottieri,  tU.  276. 
AssaKsinated,  276. 

Birinus^  first  Bishop  of  Dorchester,  tt. 
192. 

Bishops,  under  Teutons,  become  warlike, 
i.  897.  Their  mixed  charact4'r,  898. 
Grow  into  a  separate  order,  399.  Un- 
der Jnstioian's  code,  487.  Ordered  to 
inspect  prisons  —  to  sappress  gaming, 
612.  How  elected.  621.  Their  muni- 
cipal authority,  625.  Their  power, 
648.    Appointed  by  Bmpcror.  ii.  495. 

BishapSy  English,  in  civil  war  of  Stephen 
and  Matilda,  It.  306.  Their  warlike 
character.  806.  Their  adrioe  to  Beck- 
et,  346,  346.  Their  controyersy  with 
Beeket,  872.  Address  the  Pope,  878. 
Their  hesitation,  389.  Their  fear  of 
Interdict,  897.  Excommunicated,  411. 
Satires  on.  Till.  829. 

Bishopries  of  Anglo-Saxons,  ii.  288,  234. 

Bishoprics,  Bngltoh,  law  of  election  to. 
It.  887. 

Banche  of  Castile,  Regent  of  France, 
▼i.  16.    Her  death,  81. 

Biastus  raises  the  Easter  question  at 
Home  —  deposed  by  Pope  Victor,  i.  64. 

Bobbio,  monasteiT  of,  ii.  246. 

Boeeaceio,  riii.  312.  His  "  Decamero- 
ne,"  847. 

Boethius,  a  Roman,  minister  of  The- 
odoric.  1.  487.  hU  trial  and  Impris- 
onmcnt,  439  (Jomposes  the  *'  Coo- 
Rolatioii  of  Philosophy,"  443.  His 
cruel  death,  444. 


BOIflFAOI. 

Bogoris,  King  of  Bulgaria,  his  oooTer- 
sion,  iii.  116.  Qaells  insurrection, 
117.    Applies  to  Pope  Nicolss  I.,  119. 

Bohemia,  conversion  of,  iii.  127.  Pol- 
icy of  Pope  Innocent  III.  towards,  ▼. 
70.  Connection  of  with  Bngiaod,  tU. 
406,  438.  Wyclifflsm  in.  426.  Isola- 
tion of,  486.  Indignation  in  at  death 
of  ilusfl,  499.  Hassite  war  in,  6^ 
Rises  against  Sigismund,  646. 

Bohemians,  their  memorial  to  Council  of 
Constance,  Til.  485.  At  Basle,  567.  Dia- 
senidons  among,  668.    ReTerfses,  568. 

Bologna,  John  XXIII.  Legate  in,  viii. 
330.    Conclare  at,  332. 

Bonaventura,  St.,  General  of  Francis- 
cans, t1.  73.  His  alleged  refusal  cf 
papacy,  123.  Dies,  130.  One  of  Mm 
great  Schoolmen,  viii.  264.  Mysticism 
of.  27^-276.  His  Hymn  of  the  Cross, 
809. 

Boni/ace  I.,  Pope,  his  disputed  election, 
i.  198.    His  character,  199. 

Boniface  11.,  contest  at  his  election,  I. 
464.  Attempts  to  nominate  his  suc- 
cessor, 467. 

Boni/ace  III.,  assumes  titte  of  "  UniTer- 
sal  Bishop,"  U.  264. 

Son(/a«  IV.,  11.266.  ^ 

Boniface  V.,  U.  266. 

Bow  face  VIII.  (Benedetto  Gaetani).  re- 
bukes Charles  the  Lame,  vi.  183.  His 
ascendency  at  Naples,  191.  His  elec- 
tion, 205.  Imprisons  Coelestine  V., 
208.  His  Tiews  of  Papal  authority, 
210.  His  experiences  as  L^pnte,  212. 
His  advances  to  Frederick  of  Arragon, 
216.  Summons  Charles  of  Valois  to 
Italy,  220.  His  jealousy  of  the  Co- 
lonnas,  222.  Excommunicates  the  Co- 
loanas,  226.  His  measures  in  Italy, 
280.  Excommunfcatea  Albert  of  Aus- 
tria, 236.  Forbids  wars  of  Edward  I., 
248.  Issues  bull  ''  Clericis  Laioos." 
259.  Second  bull  against  Philip  tht* 
Fair,  263-270.  Philip's  reply  to,  271. 
Arbiter  between  France  and  England, 
277.  Forbids  Edward's  Scotch  wan, 
280.  Institutes  Jubilee,  284.  At  the 
height  of  his  power,  287.  His  enemies, 
288.  Estranges  Franciscans,  290.  Per- 
secutes Fratioelli,  292.  Abandons  Scots, 
299.  His  quarrel  with  Philip  of  France, 
298.  Rumors  of  his  pride,  304.  Sends 
Legate  to  France,  306.  Receives  em- 
bassy from  King  Philip.  310.  His  bulls 
against  Philip,  811,  813.  816.  Address 
of  French  clergy  to.  821.  His  reply, 
323.  His  speech  before  Consistory, 
826.  Issues  bull  ■'  Onun  Sanctam," 
826.  Acknowledges  Albert  of  Austria 
Emperor,  330.  Acknowledges  Fred- 
erick of  Sicily.  881.  Offers  terms  to 
Philip,  832.    Kxcommuuicates  Philip, 


VOL.  VIIL 


33 


514 


INDEX. 


BOirXTACS. 

886.  CbugM  niftde  «g«iiut  him  at 
Pari*,  810.  At  Anagni,  847.  Hia  im- 
plies to  charp:^.  SiS.  Attacked,  851 ; 
and  impriaoa«d,  854.  Itoacued,  re- 
tnms  to  Rome,  855.  ReTolt  agaln»t 
—  bla  death — general  shock  at  tieat- 
mcMt  of,  856.  UU  mcmorv  p«>nwK:ated 
by  Philip,  868.  484.  HLb  defenders, 
490.  Opening  of  proceedings,  480. 
Witnesses  against,  4d8.  AUe|^  blas- 
phemy, 494.  ConVerwtion  with  Rogsr 
Loria,  497.  Charged  with  magie  and 
idolatry.  499.  Summary  of  evidence 
against,  500.  Judgment  of  Clement 
v.,  501.  His  Innocence  declared  by 
Council  of  Vienne,  507. 

Boniface  IX.,  his  election.  Til.  267.  Sup- 
ports LadisUus  of  Naples,  269.  His 
simony,  270;  and  nepotism,  272.  His 
able  conduct,  275.  Returns  to  Rome, 
276.  His  Buccesws.  279.  ReceiTes 
embassy  ftom  Benedict  XIII.,  290. 
His  death.  290. 

BoHifaee,  St.,  bis  birth  and  early  life,  U. 
24o.  Goefl  to  Rome  —  countenanced 
by  Pope  Gregory  II..  249.  Protected 
by  Chftrles  Msrtel,  249.  Goes  to  Tho- 
ringia— to  Vriesland,  260  ;  to  the  Sax- 
ons and  Hessians  —  fells  the  oak  of 

*   Geismar.   251,   252.     Archbishop   of 
Hents,  258.    His  proceedings  In  Ger- 
many,  254.     Death    and    burial    at 
Fnlda,    256.      His     charges    against 
Fraiikish  clergy,  415. 

Boniface^  ArchbiKhop  of  Canterbury,  t1. 
45.    Tyranny  of,  46. 

Bonifaxto^  murders  Benedict  VI. — as- 
sumes Papacy  —  flies  to  Constantino- 
ple, iii.  188.  Seises  John  XIV.,  puts 
him  to  death  in  prison,  and  assumes 
the  Papacy  — dies,  189. 

Books,  imported  into  England,  ii.  211. 
Growing  influence  of,  viii.  496. 

Bordeaux,  appointed  combat  at,  rl.  166. 
Scene  at.  Iw. 

Bom,  Duke  of  Lombardy,  adopted  by 
Pope  John  VIII.  as  hU  son,  ill.,  94. 
Made  King  of  ProTence.  96 

Bonra.  taken  by  Mohammedans,  ii.  166. 

Bouciaiut,  Biustial.  at  Avignon,  Tii.  286. 
Besieges  Papal  palace,  28o. 

Bourges,  Srnod  of,  Till.  84. 

Bouvines,  battle  of.  It.  486 ;  t.  47. 

Braeeio  Montone,  Tii.  626. 

Btadwarduu.  teacher  of  divinity,  vU. 
858. 

Branealeone,  Senator  of  Rome,  t.  612. 
Summons  Pope  to  Rome,  618.  His 
imprisonment  and  release,  vi.  48. 
Marches  against  Pope,  his  death, 
48. 

Breakspeare,  Nicolas.     See  Hadrian  IV. 

Bremen  and  Hamburg,  archbishopric  of, 
Iii.  140. 


21. 


BOtL. 

Bremen  burnt  hf  Hnngarians,  fll.  150^ 
Bretda,    revolntions   in,    Iv.    2SI, 

Arnold*B  preaching  in.  28? 

T.  416.    Revolt  of,  vi.  617. 

Henry  of  Loxembaif,  618. 
Bribery,  Papal,  vilL  M. 
Britain,  monastfeism  In,  ii. 

dictine  convents  in,  87.    First  corn 

sioa  of.  174.     Heathenlaed  by  Saxooa, 

176.     Partially  converted  by  Aagn*- 

tine,  179.     Its  relapse.  184;  and  re- 
covery. 186. 
British  church,  remnant  of  in  Wales,  ii. 

182.    Disputes  of  with  Roman  clergj, 

188. 
Brito,  Reginald,  iv.  412. 
Brixen,  Synod  of,  deposes  Orrgorv  VII., 

iii.  482.    Beets  Ouibert  Pope,  488. 
Brotherhoods,  secret  religious,  viii.  390. 
Bruce,  Robert,  excommunlcaled  by  dem- 
ent v.,  vi.  881. 
Brueys,  Peter  de,  v.  142. 
Bruges,  meeting  of  English  aad  Papal 

deputies  at,  vii.  870. 
Brunehaut,  her  vices —  rebuked  bj  BL 

Colnmban,  11:241. 
Brun^Ueschi,  viii.  462. 
Bruno.     See  Leo  IX. 
Bruno,  kinsman  of  Otho  HI.,  made  Popa, 

iii.  198.     FllM  flrom  Rome,  196. 

restoration  and  death,  197. 
Bulgaria,  Panlicians  in.  v.  158. 
Bulgarians,  defeated  by  Leo  the  Ai 

nlan,  11.  856.     Maoneni  of,  iii. 

Their    conversion    disputed 

Bast  and  West,  122.     Threaten  Coo- 

stantinople,  v.   120.     Tbeir  kinc  J»- 

baonitins,  128. 
BuU,  Papal,  '^Clericis  Laicos,'  ▼!.  2S0. 

Bead  in  English  Cathedrals.  2S2.    Ita 

reception  in  France.  266-    Its 

tlon.  878. 
BuU,  second,  of  Bonifece  Vni.,  vi. 
BuU  forbidding  invasion  of  Scotland,  vl. 

281. 
BuU  of  BonlliMse  VIII.  apinsi  PhiUp  Ite 

Fair,  vi.  811,  812. 
BuU,  the  Lesser,  vi.  818.    Its 

genuineness,  814. 
BuU,  the  Greater,  vi.  816. 

Paris,  818. 
BuU,  "  Unam  Sanctam,*'  vi. 

revocation,  876,  877. 
BuU  issued  at  Anagni.  vi.  847. 
BuU  of  Clement  v.,  ri.  408. 

France,  600,  601. 
BuU  of  Nicolas  IV.  on  Abmlntc  Poverty, 

vii.  66.     Annulled  by  John   XXII., 

61. 
BuU  of  John  XXII.  against 

vii.  60. 
BuU,  the  "  Golden,"  vii.  208. 
BuU  of  Alexander  V.  In  lavor  of 

tU.828. 


115. 


Boraad  ia 
826.     Its 


IKDKX. 


515 


BUBOHA,&D. 

Burehard^  Bbhop  of  Halberatadt,  Ul.  406. 

His  ei«cape,  448. 
Burdinus  (or  Bfaurice),  ArehbUhop  of 

Braga^iT  127. 
Burgun'iian  law,  1.  617. 
BuTgumdians^  cooTenion  of.  1.  876. 
Bitrgundy^  power  of,  yii.  432. 
ButiUo^  nephew  of  Urban  VI..  Tii.  258. 

His  cruelty  to  cardinals,  25o.    Taken 

priM>ner  iu  Nocem.  260.    Liberated  by 

Queen  Margaret,  202. 
Byzantine  architectuVe,  Tiii.  418,  482. 

Painting,  466-473. 

C. 

QuAa.  the,  H.  126. 

CadcUous^  Antipope,  iii.  822.  .  Occupies 
St.  Angelo.  384.  Flies  from  Rome, 
810.  I^iected  by  Council  of  Mantua 
—  dies,  811. 

Oatdmon.  ii.  228.  His  religious  songs, 
229.  Ilis  poetry  continued  by  Alfrwl, 
m.  147. 

Gsuortni,  Cardinal.  Pnwident  of  Coun- 
eU  of  Basle,  Tii.  663.  His  letter  to 
Bugenius  lY.,  668.  Meets  Oivek  Em- 
peror at  Venice.  Tiii.  26. 

Caliphx,  the  earliest  ii.  160. 

Calixtux  II.  (Ouido  of  Vienne),  Pope,  It. 
180.  Holds  Council  at  Rheims  — re- 
news Truce  of  God,  183.  His  nieetiog 
with  Henry  V.,  186.  Brealu  off  nego- 
tiations, 137.  Bxcommuuicates  Henry 
v.,  13J.  Meets  Henry  I.  of  England, 
138.  His  trium pliant  return  to  Rome, 
189.  Degrades  Gregory  VIII..  140. 
Consents  to  Concordat  of  Worms,  144. 
Pacifies  Rome  — his  death,  149. 

CkUixtus  III.,  Autipope,  It.  481.  Abdi- 
cates, 487. 

CaUistua  I.,  Pope,  his  early  history,  i. 
76.  Influence  OTer  Zephyrinus,  76.' 
Obtains  the  Popedom,  77.  Opposed 
by  Hippolytus,  78,  79. 

Callistus  III.,  Pope,  Tui.  120. 

Cbmaiius,  Patriarch  of  Constantinople, 
his  flight,  T.  106.  Takes  refuge  at 
Nioea,118. 

CampanUex^  Tiii.  484. 

Can  delta  Seala,  Chief  of  Verona,  Tii. 
71.    His  death,  110. 

Candidiantts,  President  of  Council  of 
Epheaus,  i.  229. 

Ocuionizationj  Tiii.  211. 

Canosa^  Gregory  VII.  and  Henry  TV.  at, 
U1.466. 

Canterbury y  monks  of,  reluctant  to  elect 
Becket,  It.  828.  Election  to  Archbish- 
opric of,  T.  20,  871  Archbishops  of, 
Tii.  862. 

Canterbury  Talee,  Tiii.  887. 

Canute^  his  pilgrimage  to  Rome,  Iii.  227, 


OATHOUO. 

Cbpe/,  Hngh,  Iii.  203. 

Carcassonne^  capture  of.  t.  188. 

CartiinaUy  college  of.  its  germ  in  th« 
third  centurv,  i.  74.  Made  Papal  eieo* 
ton,  iii.  299.  Remonstrate  with  En- 
genius  III.,  It.  249.  Addniss  of  French 
barons  to,  Ti.  320.  Their  reply,  822. 
King  Philip's  embassy  to,  864. 

Cardinals,  ifrench,  Ti.  876,  Tii.  199. 
Their  dismay  at  Pope-s  return  to 
Rome.  216.  At  Rome,  228.  At  Anag- 
ni,  240. 

Cardinalt^  Italian,  tII.  10.  Elect  Urban 
VI.,  283.  Violence  of  Romans  towards, 
284.  Their  dlscontenc,  286.  At  TiToli, 
239.  Arratit  of  by  Urban  VI.,  257. 
Tortured.  2&S.  Death  of,  269.  At 
ATigiion,  2S3.  Tlieir  embassy  to  Paris, 
286.  Summon  council,  807.  At  Con- 
stance, content  with  Emperor,  612. 
Pled^  themselTes  to  ivform,  687. 
Satires  on,  Tiii.  826. 

Carloman  enters  monastery  of  Monte 
C^uiiuo,  ii.  408.  His  imprisonment 
and  de.itn,  421. 

Carlomany  mou  of  Pepin,  liis  part  in  Bo 
man  fictionii,  ii.  436.     Jealous  of  his 
brother  Charles,  438.    His  death,  448. 

Carloman,  son  of  Louis  the  Germanic  — 
King  of  Italy,  iii.  91.    Dies,  94. 

Carloman^  son  of  Charles  ttie  Bald,  Iii. 
73.  An  abbot  —  heads  a  band  of  rol>- 
bers,  74.  His  depoiition,  79.  Is  blind- 
ed, and  dies,  80. 

Carloningian  empire,  extinction  of,  iii. 
102. 

Caroecio  of  Milan,  iii.  809.  Taken  al 
Corte  NuoTa,  t.  413. 

Carolinian  books,  ii.  602.  Sent  to  Pope 
Hadrian  I.,  603. 

Carpentras^  conclaTe  at,  Tii.  16- 

Cartha^r,  church  of,  its  intercourse  with 
that  of  Kome,  i.  81;  and  subsequent 
dispute,  88.  Council  at,  under  Cypri- 
an, 89. 

Cartkagf,  Council  of,  resists  decision  of 
Pope  SSosimus.  i.  182.  Appeals  to  Ho* 
norius.  188. 

Casaie,  Ubertino  dl,  Tii.  67. 

Cassianusy  i.  189.  His  attachment  to 
Chrysorttom,  190.  A  semi- Pelagian  — 
oppo^d  by  Augustinians,  191. 

Castile^  aff.tirs  of.  t.  62  Threatened 
with  interdict.  68. 

Castruceio  of  Lucca,  tII.  71,  88,  96. 
Created  senator  of  Rome,  99.  His 
death,  106. 

Cathari,  tI.  64. 

Catherine  of  Courtenay,  nominal  heiroM 
to  Greek  empire,  tI.  216. 

Catherine^  St..  of  Sienna,  her  mission  to 
ATignon,  Til.  228;  to  Ploreooe,  226. 

OaUholie  church  united,  i.  480-  J^ous 
of  Theodorlo  488.    Measures  of  in  ths 


616 


INDEX. 


CSAI 


484. 


Alkgad  eom^iMiM  of  at 


CbmdwotUlay  iL  189.  HtaeonqiMiit  oTSiit- 
mx,  217.  Hi*  eoavenioD,  218.  Goes 
to  Home  Ibr  abaolntioii — dieii,  218. 

Cbcco  d*A«eoli,  AJtrologer,  bumcd,  til. 
97. 

'*  Celestial  HiBnrehy,"  viii.  191.  Belfaf 
In,  192.    Qrmk  ocighi  of,  196. 

Cete$ti$u  I.,  Pope,  i.  200.  Pronoanciei 
agsiD«t  Nestoriaii,  221.  Sendb  onrojv 
lo  Oolutuitiiioplie,  228.  Bxeonunani- 
cated  NMtoriiu.  224.  His  letten  to 
the  Council  of  KpbMns,  238. 

OiMCiM,  a  follower  of  Pelagiai*,  i-  164. 
Appeals  to  Pope  Zosimus,  180.  !•  de- 
claxwl  orthodox,  181.  Bobeequentlj 
eondenmed,  184. 

CeUbaey,  honor  of,  U.  98. 

QUbaef  of  elez|nr,  i.  120 ;  t.  282.  Be- 
•Istanoe  to,  1. 121.  PrpTeots  degener- 
acy cX  ehorcb,  iii.  874.  Conseqaeoees 
of  Till.  188.    Iti  eflect  on  raorak,  168. 

Celidomius  —  his  appeal  to  Rome.  i.  273. 

Cendus  iieiaes  Pope  Gregory  Yll.,  iii.  425. 
Uis  flight.  427. 

CkneimSf  Consul  of  Rome.  iii.  602. 

Orry,  crusade  of,  t.  86. 

Cesena.  Michael  di,  general  of  Fraaeto- 
cans,  his  alignment,  rii.  60.  At  Atjic- 
non,  61.    Joins  Louis  of  BaTaria,  109. 

Osema^  massacre  of,  Tii.  224,  264* 

Chadijah^  wife  nf  Mohammed,  ii.  122. 
His  first  cooTert,  125. 

CkaleedoHy  S^ynod  of,  i.  342. 

Chaleedon^  Council  of,  rererses  sentence 
of  Synod  of  Ifiphesus,  i..292.  Con- 
demns DioMorus,  298.  Its  decrees 
eonflrmcd  by  Bmperor  Blaieian,  295. 
Equalises  Bishops  of  Rome  and  Con- 
stantinople, 296. 

CSIampeanx,  William  of,  It.  196. 

Ckamtery,  Papal,  Tli.  515. 

Chapters^  *-The  Three."  i.  465.  Dis- 
putes about,  467.  Condemned  by  Vi- 
gilius,468. 

Cfutrity  of  clergy.  Till.  166. 

CharUmagne  marries  Hermingard,  ii. 
488.  Divoroes  her  —  marries  Hilde- 
nrd,  442.  Sole  King,  448.  Besieges 
PaTia,  446.  At  Rome  — his  Donation 
to  Pope  Hadrian  I.,  447.  Destroys  the 
Lombard  Idngdom,  448.  His  second 
Tisit  to  ilmne,  461.  Suppraeses  rebel- 
lions, 462.  Crowned  by  Pope — conse- 
queoces  of  this  act,  468.  His  league 
with  the  Pope,  461.    Extent  of  his  em- 

Sire,  466.  His  power  personal,  468. 
[Is  chafaeter.  471.  His  wItss,  471. 
His  Saxon  wnrs,  472.  Destroys  the 
Irmin-Saule,  477.  His  succeAws,  480. 
rounds  bishoprics,  481.  His  ecelaslas- 
tkal  legislation,  488,  491.  Supremacy 
over  choreh,   484.      Orants   to   the 


IT. 


ehmch.  488.  His  iMtltvtes,  411. 
Rules  fbr  monasteries,  498.  ForehuvA 
goyemmeni.  494.  For  election  nf  blslH 
ope,  495  ;  and  of  parocliial  clergy,  4W. 
Holds  Council  of  Franklbri,  i\^.  His 
measumtf  strengthen  Papacy,  507.  life- 
emtnre  of,  606.  His  death,  618.  His 
defenees  against  Northmen  nqgiected 
after  his  detth.  iU.  180.  Legends  eC 
Tii.  867.    CooTcrsious  by,8t)5. 

CkarUs  Martel.  protects  St.  BonMkce.  fi. 
249.  Ub  Tictorf  at  Tooro.  Sjo.  Hat- 
ed by  the  Frankish  clerK%.  391.  401. 
His  Tiolation  of  Church  property,  4U>. 
His  death,  402. 

Charles  the  Bald,  his  birth,  ii.  682. 
Seises  Idngdom  of  Lorraine,  iii.  70. 
Combines  with  his  brother  l<ouis,  78. 
His  sons,  78  Usurps  empire  —  crown- 
ed by  Pope  John  Vin.,  82.  H»  de- 
feat br  Louis  of  Saxonr,  and  death, 
88,84." 

Chnrlfs  the  Fat  crowned  Anperor,  iU.  97. 
His  death,  102. 

C**arUs  of  Lonaine,  iii.  206. 

Claries  of  Ai^u,  his  treaty  with  Uitaa 
IV..  Ti.  85.  Senator  of  Rome,  90.  At 
Home,  98.  His  Tictory  at  Beneeento, 
96.  His  tyranny,  96.  Letter  of  Clem- 
ent IT.  to,  106.  Defeats  and  pota  to 
de:«th  Conradin,  114.  His  barbarity, 
118.  His  designs  on  CounUntioople, 
141.  Procuies  election  of  Martin  IT., 
148.  His  ambition,  145.  Hb  prepara- 
tions against  Peter  of  Arragon.  154. 
Htocondui't  during  Sieilian  insume- 
tion,  158.  Lays  sl^  to  Messina,  160. 
KnMTuates  Sicily.  164.  At  Botdeaux, 
168.    His  rererses  and  death,  170. 

darUs  II.  of  Naples  (the  I^me),  takea 
prisoner.  Ti.  170.  Surrenders  claim  to 
Sicily,  173.  His  Ubeiation,  174.  Show 
of  deferenee  to  Ovleetine  Y.,  187. 
Gets  Pope  into  his  power,  190.  Hb 
treaty  with  James  of  Arragon,  215. 
His  enmity  to  Templan,  469. 

Charles  III.  of  Naploi.  tU.  280.  C^n- 
•luctH  Urban  VI.  to  Naples,  258.  Gon- 
falonier  of  the  Church,  264.  Quarrels 
with  Pope.  265.  Besieges  Nocwm.  260. 
Murdered.  261. 

C'tarUs  of  Valois,  his  fruitless  attempt 
upon  Arragon.  Ti.  169.  Surrendsrs 
hw  rliiim,  217.  Invades  Sicily.  230. 
Hii*  vicniries  in  Flaodern,  276.  His  al- 
liance damages  Pope,  294.  Seeki 
empire,  418. 

Charts  the  Fair,  his  diTOrre  and  mi 
riage,  tU.  80.    Hb  attempt  on  ampiia, 
83. 

Charles  IV.  (of  MoiaTia),  pinelalaed 
King  of  Romans,  tII.  145  Hb  flight 
at  Ciecy,  147.  Proposals  of  Rbmi  to, 
187.    Hb  answer,  189.    Goes  to  Italy, 


DIDEX. 


617 


OBABLBSTI. 

202.  lunes  thfl  Golden  Ball,  203. 
Viiiits  ATignon,  215.  At  Rome,  217. 
Ring  of  Bohemia,  437. 

Charles  TI.  of  France,  attempts  to  end 
•chiam.  vii,  280.  Acknowledges  Bene- 
dict XIII.,  290.  Proclaims  neutrality 
between  Poptw,  806. 

Chastity^  laws  for  protection  of,  y.  890. 

Chaucer^  riii.  872.  An  English  poet,  885. 
His  travels,  reading,  385,  886  ;  and  po- 
etry.  387.  Creator  of  native  poetry, 
887.  His  pictures  of  ecclesiastics,  388. 
Imprisonment  of.  891. 

Ckiehdejf^  Archbisbop  of  Canterbury,  in- 
stigates Henry  T.  to  war,  tU.  680. 
fetter  of  Martin  V.  to,  581. 

OkUperie  deposed,  ii.  410. 

ChiveUry^  It.  35.  Its  origin  in  the 
Crusades.  01.  Of  the  Saracens,  60. 
Adopts  worship  of  Virgin,  vUi.  206. 

Chlum^  De,  Bohemian  noble,  protects 
Hnas,  Tli.  444.  447.  Supports  him  at 
Constance,  488,  489. 

Christy  sculptured  representations  of  in 
churches,  viii.  448.  Traditional  rep- 
resentations of,  468, 469.  Bepresented 
as  judge,  470. 

CStrisUiidom^  three  systems  of  law  in,  i. 
483.  State  of  at  accession  of  Innooent 
ni.,  !▼■  472.  Seeming  peace  of  under 
Innocent  III.,  t.  188.  Public  opinion 
in,  432.  Advance  of  in  the  North,  ri. 
539.  '  Contest  in,  Tii.  104.  Indignant 
at  Papal  schiam,  304. 

Christian  morale,  controreny  on,  1.  78. 
Jurisprudence,  479,  481.  It  is  mixed 
with  secular,  482.  Europe,  unity  of, 
▼ill.  163.  Literature,  283.  Terms,  Teu- 
tonic, 361.    Latin  terms,  899. 

Christian  mythology.     See  Legends. 

Christianity,  in  its  origin  Greek,  i.  19. 
Its  progressive  development,  80.  Ten- 
tonic,  28.  In  Rome;  its  gprawth,  47. 
Obscurity  of,  49.  Its  eaily  influence 
on  morals,  60.  Its  apparent  failure  to 
produce  good,  353.  Its  innate  goodness 
and  power,  354.  Becomes  warlike,  865. 
Barbarized  by  Teutonic  conquests,  897. 
Its  effect  on  Roman  law,  480  Its 
special  jurisprudence,  481.  Introdu- 
ces new  crimes,  512,  641.  Its  depend- 
ence on  Papacy,  ii.  4ti.  Asiatic,  its 
decline,  109.  In  Arabia,  Imperfect, 
187.  Eastern,  its  want  of  energy,  154. 
Feeble  resistance  to  Mohammedism, 
156.  Humiliation  of,  160.  Effect  of 
Mohammedan  conquests  on,  169.  The 
only  bond  of  union  in  Europe,  178. 
Its  extension  in  the  West.  1/4.  In 
Britain,  175.  Unites  the  Anglo-Saxons, 
238.  In  Sweden,  iii,.  189.  Allied  to 
mHitaxy  spirit,  iv.  85.  Popular  art!- 
elcs  of,  viii.  186.    Adapted  to  human- 


oiAsroov. 

Christi^her,  Pope,  iii.  166. 

OironieUs,  viU.  881. 

Chronology  of  flnfe  Ibur  centnries,  i.  83- 
89.  Fifth  centniy,  125.  Sixth  oen- 
tury,  810,  811.  Seventh  and  eighth 
centuries,  ii.  104-106.  From  a.  s.  800 
to  1050,  464,  465.  Eleventh  century, 
iii.  359.  Twelfth  century,  iv.  62,  68. 
Of  Innocent  m. ,  469.  Thirteenth  c«n- 
tury,  V.  282, 288.  Fourteenth  oentazy, 
8^.  Fourteenth  and  fifteenth  centu- 
ries, vii.  227. 

Chrysaphiusy  the  Eunuch,  minister  of 
ThAodosius  II.,  his  intrigues,  i.  284. 

Chrysostom,  translated  ttom  Antioch  to 
Constantinoa^,  i.  140.  Ixkeurs  enmity 
of  Areadins  —  appeals  to  Pope  and 
Western  Bishops,  141.  Supported  by 
Innooent  I.  and  Emperor  Honorius, 
141, 142. 

Churchy  Royal  supremacy  over.  i.  482. 
Growing  power  of  after  Charlemagne. 
Ii.  538.  Jealous  of  empire  in  Papal 
elections,  iii.  240.  Its  power  and  wealth 

'  lead  to  simony,  879.  Enriched  by  cru- 
sades, iv.  45.  Its  jmiovusy  of  law,  ▼. 
895.  The,  definition  of,  vii.  90.  Great 
field  Ibr  ambition,  866. 

Chureh-intilding,  viii.  425,  426.  Incen- 
tives for,  427.    Good  efEwts  of,  481. 

Church  property,  secured  by  Constan- 
tlne,  i.  606.  By  other  Emperors,  609. 
Rapid  growth  and  inviolability  of,  600- 
61i.  Alarming  increase  of,  in  Fnuiee, 
686.  Liable  to  taxation,  687.  Tbssd 
under  Becket's  ohanoelloFship,  iv.  820. 
Various  kinds  of,  viii.  141.  Extent  of, 
144. 

Church  services,  settled  by  Qregorj  the 
Great,  ii.  55.  EOect  of  on  languages, 
viii.  856. 

ChureheSy  sanctity  of,  ii.  99.  Burial  in, 
ii.  99.  In  Latin  Christendom,  viii.  410. 
In  Rome,  416.  In  Constantinople,  418. 
At  Ravenna,  420.  Of  Venice  and  Lom- 
bardy,421.  For  the  priests,  428.  Splen- 
dor of,  480.  The  people's,  481.  Medii»- 
▼al,  influence  of,  460. 

Gmabue,  tIU.  476. 

Circus^  contesto  of,  revived  by  Justinian, 
I.  451. 

Cisalpine  architecture,  viii.  411. 

Cistercian  order,  iv.  161.  Monks,  legates 
in  South  of  France,  v.  167. 

Citeauxy  monks  of,  iv.  162. 

Cities  under  Frederick  II.,  v.  887. 

Clairvaux.  Abbey  of,  founded  by  St.  Ber- 
nard, iv.  166.    Innocent  II.  visits,  170. 

Clara  Ibunds  Poor  Sisterhood  at  Aasiai, 
V.260. 

Clarendon,  Council  of,  Iv.  886.  Constitu- 
tions of,  887.  Condemned  by  Alexan- 
der UI.,  859. 


518 


INDEX. 


OLAUDUir. 

CUnuHau,  Ufl  poems  on  Sdlicho — his  li- 
teoM  about  OhiiBtlanitv,  i.  144. 

Ciaudiu*  of  Turin,  U.  660. 

CUmtfU  II.,  Pope,  iii.  287.  Crowns 
Henry  III.  Emperor — attempts  to  re- 
form Ohurch,  287.    Dies,  288. 

Oemfnt  III.  raconeiled  to  Romans,  ir. 
446. 

Clement  lY.,  legate  to  Cngland,  tI.  87. 
Holds  court  at  Boulogne,  89.  Cbosen 
Pope,  91.  Supports  Charles  of  Anjon, 
92.  Commands  crusade  against  Kog- 
lish  Barons,  100.  His  legate  in  Eng- 
land, 102.  His  treatment  of  James  of 
Arragon,  107.  Declaration  against  Con- 
zadin  —  adTlce  to  Charles  of  Anjou,  106. 
Accused  of  counselling  death  of  Con- 
radln,  116.  Dies,  117.  Countenances 
Roger  Bacon,  Till.  292. 

Clement  V.  (Bernard  de  Ooth).  ▼!.  878. 
His  secret  compact  with  Pnilip  the 
lUr,  874.  Elected  Pope.  876.  Coreo^ 
tion  at  Lyons,  876.  His  measures  in 
Vrench  interest,  876,  881.  AbeolTce 
Edward  I.  firom  oaths,  880.  Excom- 
municates Robert  Bruce,  881.  His  em- 
barrassment, 881.  Consents  to  call 
Council  of  Vienne,  382.  AbM)lTes  Wil- 
Uam  of  Nogaret,  88d.  Summons  Grand- 
masters of  MlUtaxy  orders,  890.  His 
indignation  at  the  arrest  of  Templars, 
409.  His  Bull  to  Edward  II.,  410.  His 
alarm  at  power  of  the  Valois,  418.  His 
dissimulation,  414.  His  racillation  in 
the  matter  of  the  Templars,  417.  4S0. 
Appoints  commission,  432.  His  in- 
TolTed  position  and  weakness,  474.  At 
ATignon — fidls  to  retard  proceedings 
against  Boniflioe  YIII.,  484.  His  dif- 
ficulties, 486.  Correspondence  with 
Philip.  487.  Claims  sole  jurisdiction  in 
matter  of  Bonifkoe  YIIL.  488.  Opens 
consistory  at  Arlgnon,  490.  Examines 
witnesses,  498.  Is  permitted  to  pro- 
nounce Judgment,  600.  His  Bull,  oOl ; 
and  Judgment,  602.  Holds  Council  of 
Ylenne.  604.  Lays  Yenice  under  inter- 
dict, 618.  His  league  with  Henry  of 
Luxemburg,  614.  His  death  —  his 
wealth  and  nepotism,  680.  Decline  of 
Papacy  in  him,  681.  UeTiew  of  his 
Popedom  and  policy,  681.  Pereeention 
of  heretics  under,  tU.  60.  Dispute 
about  his  wealth,  61. 

CUfnent  YI..  his  first  acts,  tII.  186.  His 
splendid  court,  186.  Nepotism  of,  188. 
Excommunicates  Louis  of  Bavaria, 
189, 144.  du pports  Charles  of  MoraTia, 
146.  Hi'<  declaimtion  against  Rienil, 
181.  Speech  in  defoDce  of  MetMUcants 
—  his  death,  198. 

Clement  VII.  (Robert  of  Genera)  com- 
mands mercenaries  in  Italy,  vii.  222. 
Sacks  Vfeeasa  and  Oesena,  224.  At  con- 


elaTB  at  Bome,  281. 

248.  His  acts— flies  from  1tafim',1»S 
Crowns  Louis  of  Aqjon  King  of  Naples, 
262.    At  ATignon,  2BS.    Deputation jo, 
fbom    University  of  Paris,  278. 
death,  278. 

Cementina^  The,  origin  of,  i.  61.  •»— - 
ism  of,  62.  Hatred  to  St.  Paol  becnjcd 
therein,  62. 

Clergy  encourage  superstitioo,  I.  400. 
Laws  of  Justinian  for.  486.  In  th« 
west  were  Latin,  646.  DelinqueocMre 
of,  661.  Sanctity  of,  mirarnloosl}  as- 
serted, il.  98.  Low-born,  enrouragv^l 
by  Louis  the  Pioun,  688.  Inferior,^ii> 
security  of.  iii.  62.  Plundered  h/ 
Northmen,  72.  Heredltarv.  danger  o^ 
876.  Their  luxury ,  ir  228i  Tbvir  iw- 
lations  with  people,  t.  281.  Taxatioa 
of,  819 ;  Ti.  268.  Their  hatred  of  Meu- 
dieants,  tU.  822.  Adminintratlve  in- 
fluence  of,  Till.  186.  Their  spiritual 
power,  186.  Their  wealth,  144.  Unity. 
167.  Their  common  language,  Itib. 
Ubiquity,  161.  Unite  Europe,  162. 
Effects  of  on  social  rank,  163.  Of  low 
birth,  166.  Charity  of —assert  equal- 
ity *of  mankind,  166,  167.  Mofml»  Qi; 
leS.    Buildings  of,  «». 

Ocrgy,  oeUbacy  of,  ▼.  282 ;  viii.  168. 

Gergy^  marriage  of,  allowed  In  Vbm  Greek 
churoh,  i.  79;  and  in  the  earl>  Roman, 
79.  Maintained  at  Milan,  m.  818.  <\m- 
demned  by  Stephen  IX.,  31t».  Prer- 
alence  of,  814-861.  Continued  utiHb 
about.  841-861.  Urged  upon  Couadl 
of  Basle,  rii.  662. 

Clergy^  married,  in  ItaJr,  liL  878.  Is 
Germany,  879.  In  nance,  fflO.  In 
England,  882 ;  vi.  106.  Hamh  decree 
of  Gregory  YII.  against,  Iii.  419.  Tbdr 
resistance  in  Fiance,  ^12. 

Clergy,  English,  their  benefits  to  civiliB. 
tion,  ii.  Zi8.  Remonstimte  against  P^ 
pal  exactions,  ▼.  486.  Subordinate  to 
King^s  courts,  ri.  289.  Approre  meas- 
ures of  Edward  I.,  244.     Taxation  << 

249.  Refuse  subsidy,  281.  Are  oot- 
lawed,  261.  They  tield,  288.  Gmt- 
dians  of  national  Utierties,  264.  Sub. 
Jeet  to  elril  laws,  ril.  846.  Allen,  ped- 
tlon  against,  tU.  874.  Promote  Fraick 
wars,  680.  Piers  Ploughman  on,  TliL 
477.  Of  Chancer.  889. 

CVrrgy,  French,  obey  Papal  Interdlet,  It. 

646.    Contempt  of  in  Prorenee,  164. 

In  crusade  against  heretics,  180.  206. 

At  Lateran  Council,  212.    Taxation  o^ 

▼1. 288.  Their  submimion  to  Philip  the 

Ikir,  274. 
Oergy,  German,  how  elected  under  Char> 

lemagne,  ii.  496.    Their  reTeouea.  486. 
dsffy,  Roman,  impress  Teutons  with  m* 

spect,  i.  806.    Their  self-devotion  aa4 


INDEX. 


519 


ouauiT. 

pfttienM,  860.  Th«ir  inflQeoee  in  wftra 
of  Vranks,  886.  Look  upoa  Vnnlu  as 
deUTenn,  887.  OooUniM  distinct,  888. 
Indulge  tIom  of  Teutonic  princes,  805. 
Subject  to  oommoQ  law  among  Teutonii, 
619,  622.  Admitted  to  national  coun- 
cils, 624.  Their  position  as  mediators, 
636. 

Ctergy,  in  Sicily.  laws  of  Frederick  II. 
about,  T.  886. 

dargy^  immunities  of.     See  Immunities. 

CltriaU  crimes,  ir.  880.  Jurisdiction 
separate,  established  by  William  the 
Conqueror,  888. 

Qermomt^  Council  of.  It.  28.  Determines 
on  Crusade,  81. 

Climate,  as  affecting  architecture,  viii. 
446. 

CUrisirai  painters,  riii.  481,  482. 

OotUda,  Queen  of  Clovis,  i.  879.  Is  the 
means  of  Cloris's  conversion,  880. 

CloviSf  a  pagan  Frankish  chief,  i.  878. 
Blarries  Clotilda,  879.  Ills  conrersion, 
880.  The  only  orthodox  soTereign,  881. 
His  religious  wars  against  Buzgundians, 
882.  i^nst  Visigoths,  884.  His  fe- 
rocity and  perfidy.  885. 

CSvgny,  abbey  of,    its   degeneracy,  It. 

CbMam,  Lord,  tU.  417.  His  trial,  420. 
Escapes,  421.  His  arrest  and  execution, 
424. 

Code  of  Justinian.     See  Justinian. 

Codes  previous  to  Juscinian,  1.  484. 

CaUsUne  II.  (Ouido  diCastello),  a  friend 
of  Ab^lard,  iv.  219.  Protects  Arnold 
of  Brescia,  287.  Sleeted  Pope,  241. 
His  death,  242. 

OotUsiine  III.,  crowns  Emperor  Henry 
YI.,  It.  448.  Queen  Eleanor's  letters 
to,  461.  Excommunicates  Emperor, 
466.  Removes  excommunication  after 
Henry's  death,  468. 

CaUstine  IV.,  his  election  and  death,  v. 
468. 

CaUsiine  V.  (Peter  Morrone),  his  monas- 
tieism,  vl.  188;  and  visions,  184.  Re- 
ceives announcement  of  his  election, 
186.  His  reluctance,  186.  Inaugura- 
tion, 188.  At  Naples,  190.  His  hermit 
followers,  187,  197.  Becomes  a  tool  of 
Charles  the  I^me,  191.  Abdicates,  194. 
Legality  of  the  act  doubted,  198. 
Beiaed  and  imprisoned— dies,  208.  His 
canonintlon.  200. 

QtUsHmanSy  vi.  210.  Unite  with  FraU- 
celU,  291. 

Coin^  debasement  of,  vi.  879. 

CbUegfS,  foundation  of.  viii.  179, 180. 

Cologne^  tumults  in,  iv.  411.  Burning 
of  heretics  at,  v.  161. 

Colonna^  Cardinal,  v.  461. 

CoUmna^  James,  vii.  102. 

CoUmnat  Otto.    See  Martin  V. 


coinUD. 


Colonna,  Sciam,  in  Italy,  vi.  851.    His 
attack  on'Bonifkoe  VIII.,  862.  Violent 


conduct,  864.  Excepted  from  Papal 
pardon.  868.  Captain  of  Roouui  peo- 
ple, vii.  96.  His  flight,  107.  Death, 
110. 

Cohntuiy  Stephen,  his  submission  to 
Riensi,  vii.  164. 

Colonneuy  vi.  178.  Their^seendency,  178. 
Bonitace  VIU  Jealous  of,  222.  Their 
power,  228.  Papal  Bull  against,  224. 
Their  reply,  226.  Excommunicat*^!, 
226.  Their  castles  taken,  228.  Their 
flight.  280.  Excluded  from  Jubilee.  286. 
Received  by  King  of  France,  805.  Their 
calumnies  against  Bonilaoe  VII.,  844. 
Restored  by  Benedict  XI.,  862.  Under 
Roman  republic,  176.  Defeated  by 
Rlenai,  179. 

Columban,  St.,  ii.  287.  His  birth,  288. 
His  travels,  288.  Foundfl  monastery  at 
Luxeuil,  and  abbey  of  Fontalues  —  his 
dispute  with  Gaulish  Bishops.  289.  Re- 
bukes King  Thierri  and  Queeu  Brune- 
haut,  240,241.  Is  banished,  243.  Re- 
turns to  France,  244.  His  strife  with 
pagans  in  Switierland — removes  to 
Bregens,  246.    Thence  to  Bobbio,  246. 

Comedies,  religious,  viii.  817. 

CommendamSf  vii.  619-621. 

Commissioners,  Papal,  at  Montmirail,  Iv. 
od4. 

Commissioners  in  the  matter  of  the  Tem- 
plars, vi.  419.  Their  sittings  at  Paris, 
42ii.  Call  on  Templars  to  appoidt  proo- 
tors,  486.  Continue  examinations,  447. 
Adjourn,  448. 

Commodus.  reign  of,  i.  66.  Toleration  of 
Christianity— death,  67. 

Commons,  English,  petition  against  hie- 
rarchy, vii.  866.  Petition  Henry  lY., 
viii.  149. 

Commons  of  France,  vi.  416. 

Conception^  Immaculate,  viii.  206. 

Conceptualism  of  Ab^lard,  iv.  228. 

ConeorrJat  of  Worms,  iv.  144. 

Concordats  of  Martin  V.  not  accepted  by 
nationrt,  vii.  620. 

Concubinage  legalised,  i.  603.  Of  clergy, 
111.244. 

Otnfession,  auricular,  v.  281;  viii.  187. 

Cunonj  Pope.  ii.  287. 

Conon.  Cardinal  of  Praeneste,  iv.  120. 

Conrad  the  Salic,  KIdk  of  Italy,  his  coro- 
nation at  Milan,  ill.  806,  807.  Crowned 
at  Rome  as  Emperor,  227. 

Conrad  III.,  Emperor,  invited  by  Roman 
insurgents,  iv.  240.  Takes  the  oro^s,  252. 

Conrad y  son  of  Henry  IV..  his  character, 
iii.  614.  His  league  with  Papal  faction 
—  accuf«es  his  father,  516.  Is  crowned 
Kingof  Italv.  516.  Marries  a  Norman 
prinrefis.  520,  521.  Dbiuherited  by 
Henry,  iv.  08.    Uis  death,  78. 


520 


INDEX. 


Qmrad,  King  of  Italy,  «lIfauiM  with 
Otho  of  B«Taria,  t.  492.  Defeated  by 
Henry  of  Thnringla,  483.  Bzcommn- 
nieated,  607-  Obtains  poawtwion  of 
Napleii,  511.  Jealoui  of  Manfred,  514. 
His  death,  515. 

Conrad  of  Lntaenberg,  ir.  481.  His  sab- 
missioQ  to  Innocent  III.  482. 

Conrad,  Archbishop  of  Hants,  It.  606. 
His  death,  509. 

Conrad,  Bishop  of  Wortibaig,  iv.  520. 
His  ui  order,  521. 

Conradin,  infiuit  son  and  suocmmmt  of 
Oourad,  ▼■  516:  Ti.  107.  Supported 
by  Romans,  111.  His  sucoesRes.  112. 
Knters  Home,  118.  Defeated  and  put 
to  death.  115. 

*'  ConsoiatioHs  of  Philosophy,"  i.  448.  Its 
want  of  Christianity,  444. 

Constancty  treaty  of,  iT.  489.  Town  of, 
Tii.  848. 

Constance,  Council  of.  Til.  ^26.  Prepan^ 
tlons  for,  427.  Ol^ts  of,  488.  Sermon 
before,  448.  Number  of  cleiigy  at,  460. 
Good  order,  458.  ReceiTes  deputies 
ftom  aDtipopes,  457.  Right  of  suf- 
ftage,  458.  Propoml  for  a  new  Pope, 
464.  Quarrel,  466.  Tumult,  469. 
D«claree  itself  supreme,  471.  Decrees 
of,  475.  Cit«e  the  Pope,  478.  De- 
elai^is  his  deposition,  479.  Its  views 
of  church  rvfurm,  480.  Condemns 
WyeliflH,  484.  Sends  to  interrogate 
Huss,  486.  Appearance  of  Hues  be- 
fore, 487.  Pronounces  against  admin- 
latntion  of  cup  to  laity.  498.  Sen- 
tences HuRS,  496.  Its  leniencT  to  Pope 
John  XXm. ,  506.  Censures '  doctrine 
of  Jean  Petit.  508.  Contest  of  with 
Benedict  XIII.,  510.  DiTisions  in,  512, 
613.  EndeaTors  for  reform,  519.  Con- 
elusion  of,  522.  Results.  528.  Unan- 
imous against  heresy,  524. 

Constan*  I.,  i.  101. 

ConttanM  II.,  his  Jealous  cruelty,  li.  274. 
Withdraws  the  Kethesis,  276.  Arrests 
Pope  Martin  I..  279.  Murders  his 
brother  Theodosius,  281.  At  Itome— 
plunders  tlie  churches — dies  atSyra- 
cujM!,  282. 

Constantia,  heiress  of  Sicily,  m*rriea 
Henry  V.,  iv.  441.  Taken  by  Tanered, 
and  released.  450.  Her  mildnens,  458. 
Swenrs  allegiance  to  Pope,  484.  Makes 
Innocent  III.  guardian  of  her  son  — 
dies,  484. 

Conatantine,  couTersion  of,  i.  98.  Grants 
priTilegf>B  to  Ronmn  church,  96.  Por- 
phvrv  font  of,  Tii.  171.  Churches  of, 
Tiii.  416. 

CbiMlonitfif  in.,  ii.  278.   His  death,  278. 

ComAantin*  the  Bearded,  Emperor  — 
summons  council  at  Constantinople, 
U.  288. 


oovnunnr. 

Constantime  Copronymtis,  bparar,  fi. 
823.  Tkkea  Constantinople,  aB&  Fol- 
lows up  the  plans  ot  Leo  —  rails  tUtd 
ooundi  of  Constantinople,  887.  Hia 
seTerity — persecutes  monks,  384,  885. 
His  eruelty  to  Patriarch,  886.  Uia 
character  and  death,  888. 

Con^anti$u  Porph^rogeuitus,  his  aeeas- 
rion  and  minority,  ii.  8fi.  His  eon- 
test  with  liis  mother  Irene.  86S. 
Sei»d  and  bUndod,  854.  Bis  death, 
854. 

Constantin*^  Pope(  Us  dispute  with 
Bishop  of  RaTenna,  ii.  290.  At  Con- 
stantinople. 291. 

Constantine  usurps  Popedom  —  dspoaad, 
ii.  432.  Blinded  and  cmeUy  treated, 
484,485. 

Chnstantinf,  Bisiiop  of  Sybenm, 
Bishop  of  Constantinople,  ii.  832 
graded  by  the  Anperor.  886.    Crael 
treatment  of  and  death,  887. 

ConsUuUitu,  founder  of  PauUrlana,  t. 
156. 

ConttoMtmopU,  foundation  of,  i.  98. 
Nestorian  question  iu,  218. 
of.  dependent  on  the  OoMirt,  296 
oliitions  in  mixed  up  with  rtU^oOf 
820.  Tumults  in,  888.  Claims  aa- 
premaey  of  Church,  ii.  70.  Ueroln* 
tlons  at,  on  death  of  HeneUoa,  273. 
Council  of,  condemns  monothelitism, 
284.  Tumults  in,  against  kMmoelaam, 
810.  Tliird  couucil  (rf,  condemns  imi- 
age-worship,  827-881.  RsTOlntioaa  in, 
T.  92.  Taken  by  Crusaders.  108.  Par- 
tition of,  104.  Sacked.  107.  Bfleets 
of  conquest  of,  125.  Taken  by  Turks, 
Till.  118.  Roman  art  in,  417. 
fen's  buildings  in,  420. 

Constamtiu*,   i.   99.     Hla 
Pope  Liberins,  108-106. 

Conuntfilation  of  God,  Till.  81D. 

CofUribMion*  to  Crusades,  t.  77 
eation  of,  85. 

Controvtrty  about  Easter,  i.  61 
tiao  morals,  78.  Lapel,  88. 
88.  Re-baptism  of  bereties,  88 
itarian,  96.  Pelagian.  164. 
lagiau,  192.  Nestorfan,  800.  217.  Pii»- 
cillUnite,  277.  Entychian.  382.  Of 
the  three  chapters.  ^.  Monothellte. 
ii.  266.  Of  iconoclasm,  298  Of  mar- 
riage  of  clerg>,  iU.  818,  {ut  tlergy). 
Of  inTestiture,  415 ;  It.  98.  Tsananb- 
stantiation,  iii.  476.  Predestination, 
iT.  182.  In&nt  baptism,  t.  148.  Ab- 
solute  poverty,  tU.  56.  Franriaran, 
58.  On  papal  power.  68.  Of  beatifla 
Tision,  116.  Of  ttw  cup  to  liOtT.  464. 
Immaculate  conception.  Till.  808 

Conventional  art,  tUI.  478. 

Contttas.     See  Monasteries. 

Conversion  of  Gannani  within  tfaa  ^n- 


Cbite- 


Trin- 


INDEX. 


521 


oovrooinov. 

piro,!.  866.  Of  Bor^nindlans.  877.  Of 
Fnoks,  878.  Of  Teutoiu,  its  effect,  889. 
Of  MoraTianSf  iii.  128.  Of  Hungary,  271. 

Cmvoeation,  tM.  876.    At  Oxford,  898. 

Otrbey,  abbej  of,  ill.  186. 

Cornelius^  Pope,  i.  88.  Ilia  confeasion, 
86.    His  exile  and  death,  85. 

CorreggiOy  Oheranlo  Papalict  Lord  of 
Parma,  t.  496. 

Coneara^  Peter  de.    See  Nicolas  V. 

Cosmieal  theories,  yiii.  228. 

Council^  General,  Pliilip  tfae  Fair's  ap- 
Deal  to,  Ti.  846.  Prnposals  for.  vU. 
246.    Assumption  of  power  by,  818. 

CkmnnlSy  Oeneral.  diserRditable  charac- 
ter of,  1. 226.  The  causn  of  this,  228, 
229. 

CotmeiU^  (Ecomentc,  of  Nicea,  i.  66. 
Carthage,  182.  Epheeus,  229.  Chal- 
eedon,  242  Second  Chalcedon,  291. 
Oonstaatinople,  ii.  284.  Second  Nicea, 
845.  Lyons,  yi.  129.  Constance,  rii. 
428.    Basle,  661. 

Councils^  (Ecumenic,  disputed,  Constan- 
tinople,  i.  466.  Third  Constantinople, 
ii.S27. 

Cmerttnay^  William,  Archbishop  of  Can- 
terbury, Til.  889.  Condemns  Wyclifb's 
tenets.  891. 

Conrtetfy  source  of.  In  Crusades,  It.  61. 

Cowtrai^  battle  of.  Ti.  827. 

Ckmrts  of  Justice,  English,  supersede  ba- 
ronial and  eoel«>iastical  courts,  vi.  249. 

CWcy,  battle  of,  Tii.  147. 

Crestentius^  Connul,  iii.  190.  His  rebel- 
lion, 194.  Appoints  Philagiithus  Pope, 
196.  His  ambition  —  beheaded  by 
Otho  ni.,  197. 

Oimet  made  capital  by  Christianity,  i. 
511.    Commuted  for  money,  587. 

Crimes  of  clervy,  ir.  380. 

Crvdjix,  Till.  471. 

Cntttfixion  abolished  by  Constantine,  i. 
6U. 

Ovaade^  First,  ir.  81.  Preached  by  St. 
Bernard,  260.  Disasters  of.  254.  Of 
Barbarossa,  447.  Preached  bv  Fnlk  of 
NeniUy,  t.  81.  Of  Cery,  86.  Against 
lieretics  in  south  of  FJranee,  175, 179. 
Adrance  of,  186.  Cruelties  of,  187. 
Its  sneceesfnl  progress,  194.  Of  Louis 
YIII.  of  France,  222.  Urged  by  Pope 
Honorins  III.,  286.  Delays,  and  in- 
difference to,  801.  Against  Emperor 
Frederick  II.,  484.  Of  St.  Louis,  t1. 
24.  In  Cyprus.  26;  and  at  Damietta, 
26.  Its  disastrous  end.  27.  Against^ 
Hanfted  of  Sicily,  48.  Against  Sicily, 
160.  Against  the  Colonnas,  227. 
Against  Pagans  in  Prussia,  587. 
Against  Dolcinitee,  tII.  46.  Agidnst 
Moors,  projected  by  Pliilip  de  Yalols, 
114.  Of  Pope  against  Pope,  896. 
Affsinst  Hussites,  646. 


Onuades,  ir.  16.  Sarlier  sehames  of,  34. 
Determined  at  Clermont.  81.  Their 
causes  and  results,  82,  84.  The  he- 
roic age  of  Ghxistianitv,  85.  InekientB 
of,  87.  Cruelties  during,  87.  Ei^ 
trange  Eastern  Empire,  88.  Increase 
Pap^  power.  41.  Increase  wealth  of 
cleigy,  46.  At  first  defensiTe,  49.  Af- 
terwards aggressiTe,  51.  Against  her- 
etics, 62.    Against  the  Pope's  enemies. 

68.  In  America,  58.     The  sonree  of 
chivalry,  54.    Blend  war  and  religion, 

69.  Their  effect  in  Germany,  68.  A 
resource  of  Papal  policy,  464.  Tliair 
Ikilure,  T.  73,  tI.  88.  Taxation  of 
clergy  fbr,  ▼.  79.  Indiflbrenee  to,  78, 
126.  Papal  emoluments  fttmi,  819 
Expire  with  Gregory  X.,  vi.  188.  Close 
of,  177.  Change  in  character  of,  887. 
Races  united  by.  Tin.  870.  Xlbeta  of 
on  architecture,  440. 

CnuaderSy  their  want  of  Ainds  for  equip- 
ment, iv.  47.  In  Germany,  68.  Th^r 
dissensions,  t.  74.  At  Venice,  90.  At 
Zara,  97.    Their  treaty  with  Alexins, 

99.  Their  embassy  to  Innocent  III., 

100.  Sail    ibr   Constantinople.    102. 
Take  Constantinople,  108.    Their  «k- 

.    cesses,  107. 

Crusading  tows,  princes  lettered  by,  ir. 
44. 

Cup\  administration  of  to  laity,  rii.  484. 

Cupolas,  Till.  421. 

Customs  of  Clarendon.     See  Clareodom. 

Cyprian  y  Bishop  of  Carthage,  the  parent 
of  Ufin  ChrisUanity,  i.  81.  His  con- 
test with  NoTatus,  81.  With  Noratian, 
83.  On  the  unity  of  the  Church  — 
admits  the  Roman  Bishop's  superior- 
ity, 87.  His  contest  with  Pope  Ste- 
phen, 88.    His  martyrdom,  90. 

Otfprus,  Frederick  II.  in,  T.  849.  St. 
Louis  at,  Ti.  25. 

Cyrily  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  opposes 
Nestorius,    i.  210.     His   character  — 

Sersecutes  NoTatlans,  211.  The  Jews, 
11.  Ferocity  of  his  partisans,  218. 
His  Jealousy  of  Constantinople,  216. ' 
His  episUes,  216,  217.  His  Tiolenee 
rebuked  by  Theodosins,  226.  At 
Sphesns,  SS8.  Returns  to  Alexan- 
dria, 246.  His  contest  with  Syrian 
bishops,  247;  and  treaty  of  peace, 
248. 
CyrU  (or  Constantine),  missionary  to 
Bulgaria,  iii.  118.  1^  MoraTU,  128. 
Rec<^niiied  in  Rome  —  his  Morarian 
Tersion  of  Scriptures,  126, 126. 


D. 


DemoiM^flgy,  Tlii.  196. 

Dalmatius  opposes  Nestoring,  1.  ML 


522 


INDEX. 


DAMABOUt. 

Damascus^  Ml  of.  ii.  167. 

Damasusy  I.,  Pope,  i.  108.    Tamulto  at 

his  election,  110.    His  riolence,  111. 
Damasus  n.,  Pope.  lii.  239. 
Damiani,   Pet(>r.    lii.    245,  289.     Made 

Cardinal.  818.    His  miflsion  to  MUao, 

819.  Condemns   clerical     marriage*, 

820.  His  letter  to  Hanoo  of  Cologne, 
880.  At  Coil  net)  of  Augaburg,  832. 
Contrasted  with  Uildebrand,  867. 

Damietta,  taken  by  Cruaaden.  r.  287. 
Retaken.  299.  Occupied  by  8t.  Loois, 
t1.  26.  Siege  of  —  capitalites  to  Sara- 
eens,  27. 
Danrlolo,  Doge  of  Venice,  r.  88.  His 
dealing*  with  Crusaders,  91.  Takes 
the  CroM.  92.  At  Zara,  97.  At  Con- 
stantinople. 110. 

Danegelt,  ir.  328. 

Datus  in  England,  iii.  144. 

Daniel  the  hermit,  i.  819.  Resists  Basi- 
liacus,  and  OTerthrows  his  empire, 
822. 

Dante  on  abdication  of  Coplestine  Y.,  Ti. 
195.  "DeMonar(*hi2,''521.  Doctrines 
of,  522.  His  lines  on  Dolcino.  rii.  49. 
Hifl  Hell,  Tiii.  224.  Creator  of  ItalUn 
literature,  888.  Compared  with  Tae- 
itus,  848.  The  religious  poet,  844. 
His  OhibelUnism,  845. 

Death,  state  after.  Ideas  of.  ii.  100. 

De  Bosham,  Beeket's  reader,  ir.  848, 868. 
His  adTice,  884. 

Deeameroruy  riii.  846.  The  example  of 
pure  Italian,  848. 

Deciiun,  persecution  bj,  i.  81.  Puts  to 
death  Pope  Fabianus,  82. 

De  Ctare,  house  of,  quarrel  with  Becket, 
It.  829.  884. 

Decretal,  the  Art t,  condemns  marriage  of 
clergr.  i.  120. 

Decretals,  False,  iii.  68.  Their  character, 
59.  Authorship  of  unknown,  60.  The 
period  of  their  appearance.  68.  Ac- 
cepted by  clergy,  64 ;  and  adopted  by 
Pope  Nicolas  I..  66.  Were  a  step  to 
InfiiUibility,  66.  Collected  by  Gregory 
IX.,  T.  896. 

"  Defence  of  Poverty,"  Till.  288. 

De  Gray,  named  Archbishop  of  Canter- 
bury, ▼.  22.  His  appointment  set  aside 
by  Innocent  III.,  W. 

**  Deliberation "  of  Pope  Innocent  m., 
It.  610. 

Delinquencies  of  clergy,  I.  651.  Scclesi- 
astlcal  punishments'for,  661. 

Demoifogues,  Roman,  Tiii.  114. 

Demetrius  tlie  Despot,  tIU.  47.  His  re- 
bellion, 60. 

Denmark^  Christianity  In,  lii.  186.  Be> 
laUons  of  with  Innocent  III.,  t.  70. 

Dtnyt,  St.,  said  to  be  Dionysius  the  Are- 
opagite.  It.  188,  206.  Abbey  of,  258. 
Platron  of  France,  tUI.  218. 


DOMIMIC. 

Deo  Oratias^  Bishop  of  Carthage,  L 
lielieTes  Roman  captiTes,  807. 

Desiderius,  King  of  Lombardy,  II. 
Takes  part  in  Roman  factions,  488. 
His  alllanoe  with  Charlemagne,  498. 
Protects  the  children  of  Carloman,  448. 
Attacks  the  Papal  territory,  444.  D». 
throned.  448. 

Devils^  belief  In  their  agency,  fi.  86. 
IdenUfled  with  Psgan  gods,  riU.  197. 
Ideas  of.  200. 

Deusdeditf  Pope,  Ii.  266. 

Dialertir.  exerrises.  It.  189. 

DiaUciies,  riU.  246. 

Di^hofd,  Count  of  Arerra,  It.  479.  De- 
feated by  Papalists  under  N'aJter  of 
Brienne,  491.  Takes  Walt4>r  prisoner, 
493.  ills  preKmineuoe  in  Napless,  4SM. 
Swears  allegiance  to  Otho  IV.,  629. 

*'  Dies  lrs9,"  Tiii.  809. 

Diet  at  Frankfbrt.  tU.  81.  At  RattsboB, 
84.  AtSpimd,87   AtFr:uikfort,Tiii.8i. 

Diets  in  Germany,  rii.  128. 

Dijon,,  Council  of,  t.  80. 

Dionysius,  Bishop  of  Alexandria.  1.  91. 

DionysiuSy  Pope,  a  Greek,  i.  91. 

Dionysius  the  Areopegite.  translated  by 
Seotus  (KrigenaK  if.  18S.  Suppoeed 
St.  Denvs.  188.  SM.  Writings  in  name 
of,  TiU.*190. 

Dioscorus.  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  pria- 
sidas  OTer  Synod  of  Epuesa«.  i.  286. 
His  Tiolenoe  to  Flarianns.  2W.  Con- 
demned and  di^raJed  h.  Council  of 
Chalcedon,  294.    Dies  in  exile.  316. 

Diospolis  ( LyUda),  Council  of.  i.  166. 

Dispensations  from  Cmaadee,  sale  oC  ▼ 
434 ;  Ttt.  616,  617. 

Dispensing  power  of  Popes,  tI.  175. 

Ditheism,  origin  and  meaning  of  tctm,  L 
75. 

Divinity  of  Christ,  1.  71.  Contests  about, 
72. 

J  ivorcCf  repngoant  to  early  Roman  maa- 
nera,  1. 600.  Its  later  preTalence,  601. 
Its  eflbct  on  Roman  society  —  re- 
strained by  Christianity.  601.  Refv- 
lated  by  Constantine,  and  by  TheodiK 
slus  II.,  602.  By  Justinian  —bis  b^vi 
on,  afterwards  repealed,  608. 

Doteinites,  in  the  Val  S«Ua,  tU.  4fi.  At> 
tacked,  47.  Their  brsTe  defence,  48 
Distress  fbr  Ibod,  48.  Bxtermii 
of,  49. 

Dolcino  of  NoTara,  rii.  88.  His 
trines,  42  Antipapaliun.  48.  Uasa 
of  Dante  on,  48.  His  death  by  tort- 
ure, 60. 

Dominie,  St.,  t.  168,  287.  His  birth  and 
education,  240.  Rebukes  Papal  Ur- 
ates In  lAnguedor.  242.  Miracles  of, 
248.  In  Alblgensian  war,  244.  His 
Order  and  Preachers,  246.  At 
—  his  Increasing  influeoce,  848. 


INDEX. 


523 


DOMI9I0AH8. 

Joins  TOW  of  poTerty,  250.    His  death 
and  eanoniiatton,  26^. 

Dominiains,  r.  287.  Their  rapid  prog- 
ress—  assembliea  ofl  249.  Their  ex- 
trayagant  belief,  2&2.  Didputen  with 
UniTvrsity  of  Paris,  -ri.  67,  70,  76. 
ControTeny  with  FraDciscans,  Tii.  68. 
In  Oormany,  82.    Artists,  Tiii.  480. 

Domitiany  persecution  by,  i.  62. 

DonateUo,  viii.  462. 

Donation  of  Constantine,  a  forgery,  i. 
9i.    Of  Charlemal^e,  ii.  448. 

Donatist  schism,  its  effects  in  'AfHca,  i. 
262. 

Donus,  Pope,  li.  283- 

Doomsday  Book,  Tiii.  147. 

Dorchester  (noM  Oxford),  see  of,  ii.  192. 

Dragon  as  an  emblem,  riii.  201. 

Drogo,  Bishop  of  Mets,  iii.  18. 

Dtms  Scotus  (Erigena)y  his  philosophy, 
iii.  261.  His  definition  of  the  Real 
Presence,  268.  From  Ireland  or  Scotch 
isles,  It.  186.  Refutes  Predestinarians, 
186.  His  rationalism,  187.  Flies  to 
England,  187.  His  traniilafion  of 
Dionyvius  the  Areopagito,  188;  riii. 
191.  His  pantheism,  287.  One  of 
the  great  schoolmen,  264.  Obscurity 
of  origin,  276.  His  logic,  277.  His 
lAtinity,  277.  His  opinions  alwut 
matter,  278. 

DuHstan^  iii.  881.  His  cruelty,  882.  Con- 
test with  secular  clergy,  886. 


JEosl,  state  of  (a.  d.  600),  i.  422.    Dis- 

Eutes  in,  466.  State  of  (7th  century), 
.108. 

EastanJUldy  Synod  of,  ii.  220. 

Easter,  cotitroTersy  about,  i.  64.  Set- 
tled at  Council  of  Nitrea,  66-  Question 
of,  iu  England,  ii.  196. 

Eastern  Church  mixed  with  court  in- 
trigues, i.  201.  Its  questions  on  the 
nature  of  the  Qodhead.  202.  Becomes 
Trinitarian  and  adopts  Nicean  creed, 
203.    Its  continued  distractions,  816. 

Eastern  Churches,  feuds  of,  i.  181.  Build- 
ings, yiii.  416. 

Eastern  Empire.    See  Empire. 

Eastern  prelates,  anti-Nestorian,  1. 282. 

Ebboj  Archbishop  of  Rheims,  ii.  644. 

Ebroin,  Mayor  of  the  Palace,  his  fall  — 
forced  to  iMcome  a  monk.  ii.  896.  Re- 
turns to  the  world,  896.  Slays  Bishop 
Leodegar,  897.    Assassinated,  899. 

Eeeelin  da  Romano,  r.  408. 

Recelin  da  Romano  (son  of  the  above),  ▼. 
408.  Accused  of  heresy,  609,  610.  His 
cruelty,  Ti.  62 ;  and  death,  68. 

EeeUsiastieal  jurisprudence,  1.  6ti.  Its 
growth,  648. 


Ecclesiastics.     See  Clsrgy. 

Eeihartj  riii.  897. 

Eethesis  of  Heraclius,  U.  270.     YiolMit 
opposition  to,  274. 

Edmund  of  England  titular  king  of 
Sicily,  Ti.  42. 

Education  of  clergy,  Tiii.  184. 

Edtoard  the  Confessor,  iii.  888. 

Edward  I.  of  England,  his  power.  tI. 
169,  178.  Compared  with  PhUip  the 
Fair,  242.  His  return  from  crusade 
and  designs,  248.  His  measures  ap- 
proved by  clergy,  244.  Deluded  by 
Philip  the  Fair  —  declares  war,  247. 
R^ects  ii^uDCtions  of  Boniface  VlII., 
248.  Borrows  Church  treasurw,  264. 
Enforres  subsidy,  266.  Compels  clergy 
to  yield.  262.  Seises  archbishop's  es- 
tates—  relents,  268.  Confirms  rliar- 
ters,  264.  His  league  against  Frauce, 
276.  His  ill  sncc(>ss  —  accepts  papal 
arbitration,  277.  His  treaty  with 
Philip,  278.  His  statement  of  claims 
on  Scotland,  29(3.  Valuation  of  church 
property  undrr.  tI.  200. 

Eduoard  11.,  hesitates  to  arrest  Templars, 
Ti.  411.     lliM  weakneK!*,  vii.  848. 

Edw<ird  III.,  his  meeting  with  Louis  of 
Bavaria,  Til.  180.  Gains  battle  of  Cre- 
cy,  147.  His  compact  with  Gregory 
XI.,  870.  His  last  years,  872.  His 
death.  876. 

Edtccwa,  Black  Prince,  approaches  AtUf- 
non,  Tii.  201.  Popular  loTe  of,  872. 
Dies,  876. 

Edwin,  King  of  Northumberland,  ii. 
186-  His  conTemion  and  early  ad- 
Tenturas,  187.  His  power,  189.  Do- 
feat  of  and  death,  190. 

Edwy,  King,  crnel  treatment  of,  ii. 
883. 

E^rid,  King  of  Northumbria,  ii.  212. 

EginKard,  his  Life  of  Charlemagne,  U. 
608. 

Egypt,  Mohammedan   conquest   of,   U. 

Egyptian  monks,  their  forocity.  Ses 
C.>ril,  Dioscorus. 

Seanor,  Queen,  her  letters  to  Coelestine 
III.,  iv.  461. 

Elections,  Papal.     See  Papal  Elections. 

Electors,  German,  Tii.  208.  Their  am- 
bassadors to  Rome,  Tiii.  91. 

Elgiva,   treatment  of  by  Dunstan,  iii. 

Ettas,  Brother,  first  general  of  Frand*- 

cans,  T.  272. 
Eloquenee,  power  of,  t.  284. 
EUterj  The,  battle  of,  iii.  484. 
Emenc,  King  of  Hungary,  t.  71. 
Emperors,  Church  supremacy  of,  I.  482. 

Election  of.  Ui.  164.      Weakened   by 

Crusades,  It.  464.     Two,  coronatioa 

of,  602. 


624 


INDEX. 


Empire^  B\<tem  or  Greek,  exkuutioa  of, 
ii.  39.  Kstnnged  from  tlto  Watt,  iv. 
88. 

Empire  J  Gemuui,  T^atonk,  or  Wortem, 
origio  of.  u  458.  Tagne  aathority  of, 
462.  Of  Cbarlemagne.  thrastened  di- 
riskm  ot,  613.  WeMiaan  of  ander 
Loaii,  531.  DiTidoa  into  two  putaea, 
537.  RelAtioiu  of  to  pftpuj,  iiL  396. 
Its  powen  and  vcakncflaes,  39S.  Va- 
eaaey  of,  ir.  496.  Last  strife  of  with 
papacy,  t.  321.  State  of  (time  of  Ur- 
ban lY.).  Ti.  82.  (Time  of  BonifiMse 
yill.)f  231.  Dis^naon  in,  riL  70. 
Protest  of  agaiast  John  XXII.,  81. 
Eleetions  to,  aettled  bj  Golden  Boll, 
303. 

Entire,  Latin,  extinction  of;  i.  314. 

Empire^  Latin  or  Frankiah  of  Constanti- 
nople, oppremireneu  of,  ▼.  104. 

BHgtand.  state  of  (10th  centary).  iii. 
151.  Married  clergy  in,  382.  Proa- 
peritr  of  under  Becket,  it.  817.  War 
with'France,  386.  Under  Intrrdict,  t. 
27.  Surrendered  by  John  to  Pope.  37. 
Dominieana  in,  250.  Inoocent  lll.'a 
policy  in.  279.  Sabjeetion  of  to  Rome 
under  Henry  111.,  314.  Italian  caurch- 
men  in.  315.  Resista  Italian  charrh- 
men,  817.  318.  Preparea  for  crusade, 
885.  Antipapal  fiDelings  in,  433.  470 ; 
▼ii.  268.  Contributions  from  to  Popes, 
T.  493,  506.  Reluctant  to  engage  in 
Sicilian  affiiira,  ri.  43.  Affidra  of  (time 
of  Urban  IV.),  86.  Barons  o^  de- 
nounced by  Clement  IV..  101.  Sub- 
jection of,  102.  Canon  law  in  —  mar- 
ried ciergv  in,  105,  106.  Coostitution 
of  ( time  of  Boniface  VI 1 1. ).  238.  War 
with  France.  247.  Arrejit  of  Templars 
in,  412,  456.  Religious  libertv  in,  Tii. 
214.  WycUffite«  in,  268.  Teutonic, 
846.  Insurrection  of  peasants  in.  386. 
CoDOordat  wich,  621.  Jounwr  of  JEne- 
as  Sylvius  through,  viii.  69.  Inde- 
pendent of  Pope,  111.  CiTil  wars  in, 
179.    Chronicles  of.  332, 838. 

English  Church,  indepeodeure  of.  It.  248. 
State  of  ( Ume  of  Henry  II. ),  306.  PriT- 
ileges  of,  307.  Its  wealth,  viii.  148, 149. 
Its  property,  proposed  confiscation  and 
estimated  amount  of,  149  Alltanoe  of 
with  Lancastrian  kings,  178. 

English  clergy  of  noble  birth,  viii.  179. 

Fitflish  language,  viii.  885.  Religions 
terms  in,  869.  Development  of,  870. 
^otonism  of,  884. 

English  miiisionaries,  ii.  247,  268. 

English  schooimen,  viii.  264. 

English  wars  in  France,  vii.  201,  86L 

finAam,  Council  at,  iii.  386,  886. 

JEaaio,  natural  son  of  Frederick  II.,  t. 
881.  Yiear-general  of  North  Italy,  447. 
Ifanries  heiress  of  Bariinia,  i49.    D»- 


BCTTCHI0S. 

leaUthe  Mongols,  457. 
ment,  498. 

Ephfsus^  Counril  of,  i.  22i 
of,  246.  ••  Robber  Svnod  *  of; 
Absolves  Sntyches.  268.  Oonfimed  by 
Tneodosias  II.,  289.  B«v«nad  at 
Council  of  ChmkwdoB.  292. 

Efiiaiity  of  mankind,  v^  167. 

Erasmus,  viii.  492. 

Ethelbert,  King  of  Kent,  his  reeeptioo  of 
Augustine,  U.  178.,   His  death.  184 

Etruscan  diviners,  *  tlieir  iiieantatMMv 
against  Alaric,  i.  149. 

EnrhariiU,  undefined  belief  regarding,  ill. 
259.     Wvrfiflie's  optiioos  on,  vii.  9H. 

Endo  de  Stella,  v.  148. 

Enilaxia^  Empress,  calls  in  Genaerie,  i. 
301. 

Em^nims  T.,  Pope,  ii.  281. 

JB^^atMs  ill..  Pope  (a  Ctstetdan),  Jtr. 
244.  Becowrs  Rome.  246.  Retires  in- 
to France,  247.  His  reiatipns  witti  Eo- 
man  republic,  261 :  and  death,  263. 

Engtnius  IV.,  his  election  and  cbacacter, 
vii.  688.  Seises  tnnsores  of  Martin  T., 
689.  Commands  dissolution  of  Co«n> 
eU  of  Basle,  652,  668.  Is  forced  to 
yield,  661.  Driven  from  Borne,  664. 
His  hostiUty  to  Counril,  666.  Nmo- 
tiates  with  Greek  Bmperor,  viiL  14. 
Proposes  to  remove  Counril  to  Italy, 
16.  Has  fleet  at  Cowtantinople,  SS. 
His  reception  of  Greek  Emperor  and 
Patriarch,  27.  At  Florence,  33.  Signs 
treaty  with  Byzantines,  44,  48.  His 
fame,  61.  Interview  with  MueM  Syl- 
vius, 88.  Ratifies  treaty  with  Geiu 
many  —  dies,  98. 

Enlalius^  di<*pnted  election  of  tir  pa- 
pacy, i.  196.    BxpeUed,  199. 

EnphemimSy  Bishop  of  Oonstantinopla  — > 
contest  of  with  Emperor  AnastasiiM.  L 
882. 

Europej  its  only  union  (Christianity,  fi. 
173.  State  of  (10th  century),  tit  U9. 
(At  accession  of  Innocent  III.),  ir.  4TS. 
(Time  of  Urban  T.),  vii.  211.  Divided 
between  rival  Popes,  244.  Stale  of 
communications  in,  viii.  442. 

EusebiuSy  Bishop  of  Doryieum,  scciisse 
Eutvches,  i.  2ra. 

Entifdusy  a  partisan  of  Qyxil,  i.  SI. 
Leader  of  monks — his  ignorance,  2tt. 
Excommunicated,  288.  Supported  by 
Bnnueh  Chrysaphios,  284.  App^ 
to  Chrislendom.  »6.  His  letter ^lo 
Leo  I.,  286.  Abmlved  by  Synod  of 
Ephesus,  288.  Removed 
stantinople,  291. 

Entjfekimnism^    rumased    by 
Leo,  L  830.    Bavtves  ium 
821. 

BmiifckiMS.  last  cxareh  of 
flight,  ii.  884. 


INDEX. 


525 


*  Swrlasting  CkMipel "  of  the  Francis- 
cans, Ti.  71;  Tii.  29.  ConUemued  bj 
Atexaoder  lY.,  30. 

Bveskam,  k>attl«  of,  tI.  101. 

Bvreux,  Bishopric  of,  iT.  134, 185. 

BxaretitUe  of  iCaTenna,  fMbleiiees  of,  ii. 
3S4. 

Exeommunieation^  fbree  of,  i.  224;  Hi. 
400;  Tiii.  196.  Its  frequent  use,  ill. 
4u0.  Letters  of,  secretly  introduced  by 
Berket,  It.  407.    Obsolete,  viU.  602. 

Expectaatcus^  vii.  616. 


F. 


Fhfrtantu,  Pope,  tiie  first  certain  papal 
martyr,  i.  32. 

Fatkrrs  of  Latin  Christianity,  i.  809. 

Felix,  Autipopa,  i.  104, 105.  His  expul- 
sion, 106. 

F*tix  III.,  Pope,  i.  828.  His  strile  with 
Acacius,  880,  881.  His  legates  at  Con- 
stantioople,  829,  880. 

FfUx  IT.,  Pope,  Ills  election,  i.  446. 
Death,  467. 

FtsHx  v.  ( Amadeus  of  Saroy),  Antipope, 
Tiii.  58.  His  coronation,  79.  Abdica- 
tion, 102. 

Ftrrand^  count  of  Flanders,  t.  41.  Pris- 
oner to  Philip  Augustus,  47. 

Femrtt,  meeting  of  Pope  and  Gkvek  Bm- 
peror  at,  Till.  27.    Plague  at,  81. 

RstiveOs  of  Saints,  Tiii.  216. 

Ftudal  system  estabttshed  by  Charle- 
magne, ii.  470. 

Etudal  nobility,  rapid  decay  of,  iii.  41. 

^'cl<lofLieB,ii.540. 

Fkmitian,  his  letter  against  Pope  Ste- 
phen, i.  88. 

FitZ' Stephen^  partisan  of  Beeltet,  It.  848. 

FUz-  Ursey  Rc^nald,  iT.  412. 

FlageUantSj  Ti.  65.    Outburst  otQQ. 

Flanders,  insurrection  in,  Ti.  82?.  Cru- 
sade In,  Tii.  897. 

Flavianua,  Bishop  of  Constantinople,  i. 
282.    InTolfed  in  court  intrigues,  284. 
Treatment  of  at  synod  of  Ephesus  —  liis 
death,  289. 

Flaviama^  Bishop  of  Antioeh,  i.  885. 
Deposed,  340. 

FUmisk  art,  Tiii.  484. 

FloTtnee,  ordeal  at,  Ui.  851,  862.  Anti- 
Imperialist,  Ti.  518,  519,  620.  Greg- 
ory XI. 's  negotiations  with,  tU.  225. 
Urban  y I. 's  treaty  with.  240.  Leagued 
with  Louis  of  A^jou,  827.  Council  re- 
mored  to.  Tiii.  82.  Prelates  at,  89. 
Acts  of  Council  at,  47.  ^)ominSoan 
CouTent  in.  482. 

FlorenitiM,  his  plots  against  St.  Benedict, 
ii.29. 

FTofte,  Peter.  Chancellor  of  Philip  the 
Fair,  Ti.  807.    Ambassador  at  Borne, 


FBAirctsCAirfl. 

811.  Denounced  by  Boniihee  Tin., 
825.    Killed  at  Courtrai,  827. 

Foliot,  Gilbert,  antagonist  of  Becket,  It. 
828.  His  character — Bishop  of  Lon- 
don, 824.  At  Northampton,  847.  At 
Sens,  357.  His  reply  to  Becket,  872. 
Bxcommunicated  by  Becket  —  appeals, 
887,  888.  Aspires  to  Primacy,  890. 
Receives  Papal  letters,  406.  Preaches 
at  Canterbury,  420. 

Fontaines,  abbey  of.  founded,  ii.  239. 

Foreheim,  Diet  of,  iii.  467.  Elects  Ru- 
dolph of  Swabia,  468. 

Fonnosus,  Bishop  of  Porto,  anathema- 
tixed  by  Pope  John  YIII.,  iii.  93.  Ab- 
solved by  Marinus,  101.  J^omes  Pope, 
105.  Crown&  Aruulf  emperor,  109. 
His  death,  110.  His  mission  to  Bulga- 
ria, 114. 

Fortunatus,  rival  of  Cyprian,  i.  85. 

Founders  of  Latin  Christianity,  i.  809. 

Four  parties  in  the  Ea«t,  i.  883. 

Fra  Angelico,  Tiii.  482.  Character  of  his 
paintings,  488. 

Fra  Angelo,  vii.  185. 

France,  Benedictine  couTents  in,  ii.  86. 
Ravaged  by  Northmen,  iii.  131.  State 
of  (10th  century),  151.  Married  cleiigy 
in,  880.  (With  Spain)  the  birthplace 
of  chiTalry,  iT.  65.  War  of,  with  Eng- 
land, 886.  Extension  of,  under  Philip 
Augustus,  588.  Under  interdict,  545. 
Heresies  in  South  of.  v.  146.  Maniche- 
ism  in,  147.  Legatee  of  Innocent  III. 
in,  167.  State  of  (time  of  BonifHce 
Yin.),  vl.  240.  War  wifh  England, 
247.  Insurgent  peasantry  in,  vii.  64. 
Oppressed  by  French  Popes,  264.  Eng- 
lish wars  in,  351.  Concordat  with,  521. 
Wealth  of  church  in,  viii.  146.  Church 
in,  174.  Its  secession  from  German 
empire,  860,  362. 

Francis,  St.,  ▼|1287.  His  birth  and 
youth,  254.  Embraces  mendicancy, 
257.  Instances  of  his  enthusiasm,  258. 
Appears  before  Innocent  III.,  259. 
Founds  Franciscan  order,  260.  Insti- 
tutes foreign  missions,  2iSl.  In  the 
East —  preaches  before  Saracen  Sultan, 
262.  His  gentle  character,  268.  His 
poetry,  264.  His  sermon  on  the  NatiT- 
ity,  266.  His  ''stigmata."  268.  His 
death.  268,  269.  Superstitious  worship 
of,  26d.    Rule  of,  278. 

Franeitcan  Order,  its  foundation  and 
principles,  T.  26().  Martyrs,  268.  Tei^ 
tiaries,  267.  Schoohnen,  Tiii.  273.  Ar- 
tists, 480. 

FVannscanUm,  character  of,  t.  268. 

^fonetj«an«  begin  to  repudiate  poTerty, 
T.  272.  Thdr  gpfowing  wealth  con- 
demned by  Matthew  Paris.  275. 
Schism  among,  vi.  73;  tU.  26.  Hos- 
tility of  to  Boni&ee  YUI.,  Ti.  288.    Itf 


526 


INDEX. 


fBAHOItOANS. 

eaaiM,  Til.  26.  Spiiitnsl,  27.  Chap- 
tor  of  at  Perugia,  68.  Become  Ohibel- 
Une.  61.  In  Rome,  receive  Louis  of 
Bafaria,  99.  Favored  by  Alezaoder 
v.,  821.    Heeinted  in  Franre,  825. 

F^neiseanSy  viii.  278. 

Franconian  Emperors,  ir.  140. 

Fmngipani,  (luDciiu,  seises  Pope  Gela- 
8iu.«  II.,  iT.  125. 

Frangipani^  (kmily  of,  ir.  106,  150  :  t. 
512.  Support  Alexander  III.,  iT.  429. 
lutermarry  with  Eastern  Emperor, 
432.  Adherents  of  Frederick  II.,  r. 
844. 

Frankfort^  Council  of,  ii.  497.  Co-idemna 
Adoptians  and  image-woryhip,  499. 
Canons  of,  504^  606.  Its  Indepen- 
dence of  Rome,  ^)6. 

Frankfort.  Diets  at,  t.  292 .  Tii.  81 ;  riii. 
94. 

Franki*k  Church  becomes  Teatoniaed, 
U.  898.  Its  wealth  and  corruption, 
899.  415. 

Ftankish  Icings  supreme  orer  Church,  i. 
619,  620. 

Franks^  Catholics.  1.  878.  OonTerted  by 
Latin  clergy,  886. 

Franks  (crusadiog),  their  contempt  for 
Greeks,  It.  40. 

FratictUi  blended  with  Coelestinians,  ?i. 
291.  Strife  with  wealthy  Franciscans, 
Tii.  27.  Denounce  worldllness  of  Popes, 
64.    Spread  of  their  doctrines,  66. 

Fravittay  Bishop  of  Constantinople,  i. 
882. 

Frederick  Barbarossa,  his  character.  It. 
266.  In  Italy,  271.  His  coronation, 
278.  Holds  Diet  at  Besan^oo,  276. 
Denounces  Papal  pretensions,  277. 
His  seeming  reconciliation,  and  march 
into  Italy,  278.  Hin  correspondence 
with  Hadrian  IV.,  281.  Supports  An- 
tipope  Victor  IV.,  298.  Takes  and 
destroys  MiUn,  296.  Makes  Paschal 
lU.  Pope,  296.  Negotlatee  with  Heonr 
II.,  868.  Pestileuoe  in  his  army,  878, 
480.  Takes  Rome,  429.  Retreats,  481. 
Defeated  at  Legnauo,  488.  His  meet- 
ing with  the  Pope,  435.  His  treaty 
with  Lombards  at  Constance,  488. 
Marries  bis  son  to  Constantia  of  Sicily, 
441.  Ills  crusade  —  drowned  in  Plai- 
dia,447. 

Frederick  II.,  his  birth,  iT.  466.  King  of  ' 
Romans,  467.  Made  ward  of  Pope  In- 
nocent III.,  484.  His  education,  494. 
His  claim  to  empire  set  aside  by  In- 
nocent III.,  611.  Joins  imiurgenta 
against  Otho  IV..  688.  Obtolns  em- 
pire, 687.  Innocent  III.'s  guardian- 
Hhip  of,  T.  276,  277.  Takes  the  Cross, 
289.  Correspondence  with  Uoiiorius 
III.,  291.  Hb  Kon  Henry  elected  his 
•accessor,  292.    His  letter  to  the  Pope, 


294.  His  coronation,  296.  His  laws  ia 
&Tor  of  ecclesiastics,  296.  Against 
heretics,  297.  In  Sicily,  298.  Hi*  eo- 
gagement  to  proceed  to  Palestine,  801. 
Marries  lolante,  802.  Com^pondenec 
witb  Honorius  III.,  806.  Hin  charao- 
ter  and  Tievrs,  822.  Admonished  by 
Gregory  IX..  827.  His  court,  3X8. 
His  poetry,  881.  Negotiates  with  Sal- 
tan of  Egypt,  884.  Prepares  for  Cm- 
sade,  885.  Sets  out  and  returns  —  ex- 
communicated, 837.  His  appeal  to 
sovereigns,  841.  His  allies  in  Rome, 
848.  ArriTes  in  the  East,  848.  Op. 
poAcd  by  religious  orders  of  Knights, 
860.  Occupies  Joppa,  862.  Sends  esn- 
bassy  to  Snltan  Kameel,  856.  Bfakei 
treaty,  858.  Visits  Jerusalem,  860. 
His  coronation  and  address,  860.  His 
compliances  with  Mohammedanism  JUk 
His  letter  to  Henry  III.  of  England, 
864,866.  AtPtolemais,369.  Betums 
to  Italy.  878.  His  successes  against 
Pope,  874.  General  feeling  in  Cavor 
of,  876.  Makes  treaty  with  Pope,  878. 
Legislates  for  kingdom  of  Naples,  881. 
Asserts  snpramacy  of  law,  8S8.  Coo- 
demns  heretics,  884.  His  laws  aboat 
cleigy,  886  ;  cities.  887 ;  and 
888.  Appoints  Parliaments, 
criminal  laws,  839.  Other  laws,  890. 
Commercial  measures,  891. 
ages  learning,  892.  His  taste 
magniflceooe,  894.  His  otU 
among  the  clergy,  886.  Periods  In  hii 
life,  897.  Assists  Pope  against  BooaDS, 
407-  Represses  his  son  Henry^s  rsbal 
lion,  409.  Declares  war  against  La«a 
bards,  410.  His  corraspondenee  wHIi 
Gregory  IX.,  412  Galas  Tietofy  of 
Corte  NuoTa,  418.  Bzcommonkatpd 
by  Pope,  416.  His  reply,  418.  Uto 
appeal  to  the  cardinals  —  to  the  Ro- 
mans, 421.  To  the  princes  of  Chrto- 
tendom,422.  To  Uie  oomnmnalty,  tffi, 
Pope's  reply  to,  4lXi.  Reported  say- 
Inn  of.  480.  His  rejoinder  to  Pops, 
481.      His  proclamation    to  Oaraan 

?rinces,  440.  War  with  Pope,  447. 
hieatens  Rome,  448.  His  cirenlar 
letters.  462,  466.  His  naval  Tictmy  and 
capture  of  prelates,  464.  Offers  peace 
to  Innocent  IV.,  460.  Ibises  Vttsrbtt, 
462.  Negotiates  with  Pope,  '" 
Complains  of  Pope's  flij^ht.  466. 
fuses  to  appear  at  Lyons,  477.  1 
clared  deposed,  479.  His  appeal 
Christendom,  480.  Conspiracy 
486.  Hischsjrge  against  Innocent  IT., 
466.  AsserU  hb  orthodoxy.  487.  His 
successes  in  Italy,  488.  At  Turin,  4M. 
Loses  Parma— tnming-poiiit  in  hia 
fortunes,  496.  UIk  defeat,  497.  Otbar 
disMters,  499.     His  death,  £00.    Bto 


INDEX. 


627 


FRXDBRIOK. 

chamcter,    501.      His    reUfrfon,    508. 

Fidelity    of    hte    friendf,    604.    506. 

Gompared  with  St.  Louis.  ▼!.  81. 
Firederick  III..  Emperor,  viii.  8U.     Rre- 

oncilcd    to    Eugeniun    IV.,   92.      His 

eUdms  on  Milan,  108,  104.     His  mai> 

riage    and  coronation  at  Rome,  118. 

Made  Viceroy  of  Sicily,  Ti.  177. 
Frederick  of  Lorraine.     See  Stephen  IX. 
Frederick  of  Arragon,  offers  of  Boniface 

VIII.  to,  Ti.  216.   Crowned  at  Palermo, 

218.  His  war  with  Charles  of  Naples, 

219.  Successful  rpsi^tance  to  Charles 
of  Valois,  220.  Defence  of  Sicily,  221. 
Excluded  from  J ubilee.  286.  A cknowl- 
edged  King  of  Sicily,  881. 

Frederick  of  Austria  candidate  for  Em- 
pire, Til.  70.  Taken  prisoner,  75.  His 
treaty  with  Louis  of  Bavaria,  85.  His 
death,  109. 

Frederick  of  Austria,  Til.  481.  Assists 
flight  of  John  XXUI.,  468.  Humilia- 
tion of,  476. 

Free  Companies  In  Italy,  Til.  220. 

Freemasons,  guild  of,  vlll.  441.  Theory 
of,  unfounded,  441. 

fVf«-wlll,  the  main  controversy  of  Latin 
Christianity,  1. 27.     See  Pelagianism. 

French  in  Sicily,  their  oppressiveness,  ri. 
147.     Massacre  of.  156. 

French  chronicles,  viii.  832.  838. 

French  clergy,  English  partiivns  among, 
▼lii.  174. 

French  invasion  of  Naples,  vi.  94-96. 

French  language,  Roman  origin  of,  viil. 
860. 

FVench  lawyers,  vl.  241. 

French  nobles  take  the  Crofl«,  ▼.  86. 
Their  embassy  to  Venice.  88.  Their 
embarrassment,  91.  At  Zara,  96. 
Condemn  conduct  of  Gregory  IX.,  487. 
Address  to  cardinals,  vi.  820. 

French  prelates  resist  Roman  supremacy, 
iil.  20d,  212.  Their  prowess  in  attack 
of  Constantinople,  v.  106.  Their  Jeal- 
ousy of  the  Venetians,  118.  Summoned 
to  Rome.  vl.  812,  828.  Address  Boni- 
fkce  VIII.,  821.  Assent  to  General 
Council.  846.  Adhere  to  Philip  the 
Fair,  847.  Support  Philip  affodnst 
Templars,  409. 

French  schoolmen,  viii.  266. 

French  writers  biased  against  the  Tem- 
plars, vi.  478. 

FrettecilUj  treaty  of,  iv.  402. 

JPWar,  Franciscan,  accused  of  poisoning 
Benedict  XI.  vl.  867. 

Friary  Mendicant,  anecdote  of,  vi.  160. 

Friars^  Preaching,  v.  287.  Their  firm 
adherence  to  Popedom,  i42.  Their 
activity  and  preaching,  44Q.  Contest 
with  hierarchy,  vi.  68.  Aim  at  ruling 
the  universities.  64.  Subjected  to 
episcopal  authority  by  Innocent  IV., 


OBKSCUO. 

68 .  Generals  of  orders,  72.  Unpopn* 
lar  at  Paris,  75.  Thdr  great  theolo* 
gians,  76.  Their  dispute  with  seculars, 
tS.  Their  drvotion  iu  the  plague,  vii. 
197.  Defended  by  Clement  VI.,  198. 
Their  proportion  to  monks,  viii.  189. 
Inducements  to  become,  140.  Cor- 
ruption of,  170. 

»'  FrTends  of  God,''  viii.  899,  406. 

Friesiandy  Bishop  M'ilfrid  in,  ii.  214.  St. 
Bonifnce  in.  250. 

Fulbert,  uncle  of  Heloisa,  iv.  201-204. 

Fulda,  monastery  of,  ii.  256. 

Fulk  of  Marseilles,  a  Troubadour,  Bistw- 
op  of  ToulouM,  V.  171.  Hbi  hostility  to 
Count  Raymond,  201.  At  Lutvraii 
Council,  218.  Hi.<*  tiencherous  advice 
to  citizens  of  Toulouse,  219.  Pen«> 
rutes  heretics,  vi.  82. 

FuUe  of  Neuiil>,  v.  81.  Preaches  tha 
Crusade,  82,  88.  Effects  of  his  preach- 
ing transient,  84.    His  death,  85. 

Fussola.  see  of,  created  by  St.  Augustine, 
i.  264.  Dispute  with  Rome  about  ito 
suppression,  265. 


G. 


GabrianOj  iv.  477. 

GaetOy  Gregory  XII.  at,  vii.  886. 

Galeria,  Count  of,  iii.  808. 

Gcdl,  St.,  11.  245.  Founds  monastery  at 
Arbon,  246. 

Gait,  St.,  monastery  of,  burnt  by  Hun- 
garians, iii.  150. 

Gallican  i'hurch.  rights  of,  vi.  817  ;  vii. 
451 ;  viii.  84. 

Callus.,  Emperor,  banishes  Pope  Come- 
hus,  i.  85. 

Gauly  the  first  Christians  in,  were  Greek, 
i.  55.  Church  in.  270.  Its  disputes, 
271.  Appeals  tec  Rome  from,  272.  Re- 
ligious wars  in,  884.  Monasticism  in, 
ii.  20.     Fall  of  Arianism  in,  64. 

Gaunt,  John  of,  vii.  865.  Popular  sus- 
picion of,  872.  Regent,  875.  Sup- 
ports Wycliffe,  877.  Decline  of  his 
power,  879. 

Gebhard  of  Eichstadt.     See  Victor  U. 

Geisrnar,  sacred  oak  of,  felled  by  8t. 
Boniface,  ii.  252. 

Gelasius  I.,  Pope,  I.  848.  His  letter  to 
Emperor  Anastaalus,  849. 

Gelasius  II.,  Pope,  seised  by  the  Frangi- 
panis,  iv.  12fi.  His  flight  to  Gaeta,  ^Sl. 
Excommunicates  Burdinus,  128.  Re- 
turns to  Rome  under  Norman  pro- 
tection, 128 .    Dies  at  Clugny ,  129. 

Gfnoa.  Heory  of  Luxemburg  at,  vi.  618. 

Genoese  ride  with  Pope  Gregory  IX.— 
their  fleet  defeated,  v.  458,  454. 

Oenseric  his  conquest  of  Africa,  i.  268. 
His  Aziaoism  and  cruelty.  269.     Cou- 


528 


INDEX. 


« 


OXRAKD. 

quen  Sirily  —  infited  to  attack  Rome 
by  Badoxia,  804.    Socka  Rome,  806. 

Gnard,  St.,  at  Toul,  iii.  269. 

Qerbert^  hia  birth  and  early  lift.  Ui.  202, 
208.  Adheres  to  Hugh  Capet,  207. 
Archbishop  of  Rheims,  21\.  Accused  by 
Papal  legate,  212.  Place!  under  In- 
terdict, 214.  Retires  to  court  of  Otho 
nt.,  215.  Made  Pope,  216.  His 
death,  220.  Suspected  of  necromancy, 
220. 

Gerhard^  Archbishop  of  Menti,  fi.  282. 

German  art.  Tlii.  484. 

German  bishoprics  founded.  U.  264. 

German  chwU  in  Italy,  iT.  479. 

German  Church,  its  dependenee  on 
Pome,  ii.  415. 

German  cities,  antipapalism  in,  Tiii. 
892. 

German  clergy  (married),  resist  GresoTT 
VII.,  ill.  414,420. 

German  ISmpire.   See  Empire. 

German  monasterleSjii. 256. 

German  poets,  Tiii.  867. 

German  preaching,  Till.  896 

GermcM  prelates,  their  pilgrimage  to 
Jerusalem,  ill.  838.  Resist  papal  em- 
bassy, 410, 411.  Renounce  allegiance 
to  Gregory  TU.,  431.  Maintd^  su- 
premacy of  Empire,  It.  278.  Take 
part  aeadnst  Innocent  III.,  618.  Di- 
Tided  between  Philip  and  Otho,  620, 
Remonstrate  with  Gregory  IX.j,t.  488. 
Indignant  against  Papacy,  489.  AC 
Constance,  tU.  462. 

German  schoolmen,  tUI.  264. 

"  German  Theology,"  tIU.  406. 

Gtrman  Torsions  of  Scriptures,  Tiii 
867. 

German  wars  ftnnented  by  Innocent  HI., 

German*.    See  Teutons. 

Germano,  San,  treaty  of,  t.  801,  878. 

Grrmanus^  Bishop  of  Constantinople, 
resists  Iconoclssm,  ii.  811.  His  degra- 
dation and  death,  818. 

Grrmany^  missionaries  in,  ii.  249.  Con- 
Tendon  of,  belonged  to  Latin  Christi- 
••nity,  200.  RaTamd  by  Northmen, 
lii.  188.  State  of  QOth  century),  161. 
Aiarried  clergy  in,  879,  418.  CItU  war 
in,  468  Eflect  of  crusades  in,  It.  68. 
CiTil  war  in,  80.  State  of  at  accession 
of  Innocent  III.,  496.  GiTil  war  In, 
508,  509.  Ferocity  of  war  In,  628. 
Renewed  strife  in,  584.  Acquittal 
of  Templars  in,  tI.  472.  Interdict  in, 
?ii.  128.  Asserts  its  independence  of 
Pope.  128.  Rejects  Papal  authority, 
129.  Indignant  at  humiliation  of  Em- 
peror Lotds,  148.  Concordat  with, 
620.  State  of  (during  Hussite  war), 
666.  IndUferent  to  Papal  sotiism,  tUI. 
Ca.    Power  of  elergj  in,  146.    Ohnvch 


In,  175.    S4>paTation  of  from  Franr«% 
851.    Heretics  in«  407. 

Gerold,  Patriarch  of  Jerusalem,  Us  how- 
tiUty   to  Frederick  II.,  t.  868. 
letter  to  Pope,  865. 

Gerson,  chancellor  of  Paris  —  at 
Til.  815.  Opposes  friars,  826.  Head 
of  French  deputies,  450.  His  axrlTaJ 
at  Constance,  461.  Hts  maxims.  471- 
Joins  in  proceedings  againrt  Jerome  of 
Prague,  502.  ili^  exile  and  death,  608, 
600 

GhibeUines.  It.  480;  t.  410.  Their  ha- 
tred  to  Boni&ee  Vm.,  t1.  298.  Great 
chiefii  of.  Til.  71.  Ascendency  of,  (time 
of  Gregory  XI.,)  221. 

GhibeUines  and  Guelfn,  iT.  488 ;  T.  801 , 
Ti.  58,  84, 179,  221 ;  tU.  71.  In  MUaa, 
Ti.  514. 

Gkiberti,  Tiii.  462. 

Gilbert  de  la  Poree,  It.  248. 

Gilbert,  Prior,  first  Dominican  preanhug 
in  Kiigland,  t.  250. 

Giidass  St.,  mopks  cf,  their  barbarism, 
iT.209. 

Giordano,  Patrldan  of  Rome,  It.  342. 

Giotto,  his  works,  tIU.  476.  AUegoriea 
paintings,  478. 

Giaxs  introduced  In  England,  ii  200. 

Godfathers,  i.  498;  U.  W. 

Godfrey  of  Lorraine,  iii.  247.  His  pen* 
anoe,248.  Marries  Beatrice  of  Tnaeaoy, 
286.  Raises  insurrection  in  Oenuan^ , 
288.  Marquis  of  Tuseany,  208.  Arbi- 
trates between  rlTal  Popes,  S27, 328. 

Godfrey  of  Boulogne,  It.  82.  Refrisea  to 
be  crowned,  88. 

Golden  Bull,  t.  72;  Til.  206. 

Golden  Legend,  Tiii.  808. 

Golden  Rose,  tH.  464. 

Geliards,  tIU.  826.  880. 

GoHas.  on  the  lAst  Judgment.  tW.  880. 

"  Good  Estate,"  laws  of.  tH.  168. 

Gothic  architecture.  Till.  437.  Its  rapid 
rise  and  extension,  438.  Contempora- 
neous with  Crusades,  440.  National 
features  in.  448.  lUlian.  444.  Svm- 
bolism  of,  447.  Mysteries  rvpreeenlad 
in.  449. 

Gothic  cathedrals.  Till.  446. 

Gothic,  name  of,  Tiii.  448. 

Goths  request  leaTe  to  settle  hi  Eastern 
Empire,  I.  878.  Their  paxtial  conTer- 
sion,  874.  Their  diTiskms,  875;  be- 
come Christian.  876.  Ariaoism  of,  418. 
Tkke  Rome,  472. 

Gotsehalk,  ir.  182.    Persecution  of,  184. 

Graco-Arcdric  philosophy,  Tlil.  268. 

Gratian,  Papal  locate,  It.  889.  Takes 
Beeket's  part,  891-.896. 

Greek  authors,  translations  of,  rvi.  128, 
124. 

Greek  books  intxndoeed  Quough  the  Ara- 
Md,  Tiii.  248. 


INDEX. 


629 


OBBIK. 

Grtek  Ghrbitiaolty,  speculative  character 
off  f.  20.  Not  aftgrewive,  22.  Deei^ 
of,  28.  Remalnn  a  peculiar  fkith.  24. 
Compared  with  Latiu,  26. 

Qr*ek  (.^hrisdans  In  Italy,  ▼.  885. 

Grtek  Church,  iU  sepaxution  from  the 
Latin,  i.  96.  Estmnged  by  conquest 
of  Constautinople,  t.  118.  Toleration 
to,  122.  Admits  supremacy  of  Rome, 
▼i.  120.  Ambassadors  of,  at  Lyons, 
181.  Returns  to  independence,  187. 
Attempted  recouciliation  of.  yU.  685; 
Tiii.  14.  Treity,  44,  46.  Treaty  re- 
sisted in  the  East.  49,  60. 

Qntk  Empire.     See  fhnpire. 

Greek  fire,  ii.  306,  810. 

Greek  lancu<ge,  its  preTalence,  I.  64. 
The  language  of  speculative  controver- 
■ieH.  60.    Studv  of.  viii.  250.  251. 

Greek  learuing,  491,  492. 

Greek  monasticium,  i.  28. 

Greek  prelates,  chimerical  views  of,  viii. 
20.  Embark  for  Italv.  23.  Their  voy- 
age, 24.  At  Ferrara,  27.  Their  dia- 
content,  29.  Jealouitie!*  among,  82. 
Removed  to  Florence,  88.  Their  dis- 
cu88ioni«,  48.    Sign  treaty,  44,  46- 

Greek  Testameut,  viii.  492. 

Greek  theology,  its  subtilty  of  definitions 
of  the  Godhead,  i.  24. 

Greeks  in  South  Italy,  iii.  276. 

Gregory  I.,  (the  Great, )  ii.  4Sl.  The  father 
of  mediaeval  Papacy.  44.  Uii)  birth 
and  early  sanctity,  44.  Becomes  ab- 
bot^ 46.  His  sevore  discipline,  47.  His 
design  of  couvercing  Britain,  48.  Sent 
to  Constantinople,  49.  HIa  ''Magna 
Moralia,*'  50.  His  return  to  Rome,  51. 
Is  made  Pope,  52.  Ketainn  hb  love  of 
monkhood,  54.  Settle:*  the  Church  ser- 
vices, 66.  His  preaching  —  improves 
ctuirch  music,  57.  UisHdmiuistration, 
67.  His  almsgiving,  59.  Euforcei*  dis- 
cipline iu  the  Church,  62.  Converts 
Spain  to  ortho'loxy,  64.  Opposes  Do- 
natism  in  Africa,  66.  Sends  Augustine 
to  Britain,  67. 178.  His  geiitlenei^s  and 
forbearance  to  ueathens,  68.  Humani- 
ty to  Jews,  68.  Tries  to  check  slave- 
trade,  69.  Letters  of,  71,  72.  Hia 
temporal  power,  78-  State  of  Rome  at 
hia  accession,  78.  Defends  Itome  and 
obtains  peace,  78.  His  influence  with 
Theodellnda  —  effects  conversion  of 
Lombards.  80.  Letter  about  monas- 
tics, 81.  His  adulation  to  Phocas,  88. 
BUnded  by  ecclesiastical  seal,  87.  His 
death.  87.  His  epitaph,  88.  His  praise 
of  oelibacT,  98.  His  policy  In  Britain, 
181. 

Qregary  n.,  ii.  811.    His  letter  to  Bm- 

Eror  Leo,  812.    Its  strange  anuments, 
8.    Its  defiant  language,  814.    Hii 
■eoond  lettar,  817.    His  love  of  images, 

VOL.  VIII.  84 


siiaeoHT. 

874.  Hb  peaceful  labors,  874.  His 
■upposed  dancer  of  assassination,  877. 
His  meeting  with  <Liutprand,  380.  Con- 
tributes to  separate  Rome  from  Km- 
nire,  8S0.    His  death,  882. 

Gregory  111.,  ii.  828.  Sends  embassy  to 
Constantinople,  382.  Condemns  Icon- 
oclasts, 888.  Au  image-worshipper,  884. 
AppeiiU  for  aid  to  Charles  Martel,  886. 
His  offers  to  Charles,  891.  His  death, 
402. 

Gregory  IV.,  adheres  to  sons  of  (^uia 
the  Pious,  ii.  540.  Visits  the  camp  of 
liouis,  541. 

Gregory  VI.,  Pope  by  purchase,  iii.  281. 
DepoNjd  by  Ueury  UI ,  238. 

Gregory  VII., (Hildebrand.)  iii.  240.  Pa- 
pal Legate  at  Tours,  267.  Proposes 
Oebhard  for  Pope,  285.  Elected  Pope, 
858.  Confirmed  by  Henry  IV.,  867. 
Hist  birth  and  youth,  864.    At  Ciugny, 

866.  Hirt  iutiueuce,  867.  His  desigus. 
869.  HiH  decrees  agninxt  iiiniony  and 
marriage  of  clergy,  &J9.  Ubt  letters  to 
Philip  I.  of  France,  390.  To  U'iUiam 
the  Conqueror,  892.  His  claims  of 
supremacy.  893.  894.  His  demands  on 
Emperor  Henry  IV.,  407,  410.  Calls 
S}  nod  on  investitures.  414.  His  breach 
with  Henry  IV.,  417.  His  harshness  to 
married  clergy,  423.  Hatred  against, 
428.  Seised  by  Ceucius,  425.  Rescued, 
424.  Hi- letter  to  Henry  IV.,  427.  His 
depoaitiou  declared,  4fl2.  His  speech 
to  Council.  435.  Interdicts  and  deposes 
Henry  IV.,  437.  Uis  manifesto.  444. 
Letters  to  Germany,  445,  446.  At  Ca- 
uosa,  453.  Imposes  terms,  457.  Ab- 
solves Henry,  45iB.  His  embarrassment, 
465.  Charged  with  guilt  of  civil  war, 
469.  Hi^  conduct  in  German  wars,  472. 
Acquits  Berengar  of  heresy,  476.  Pre- 
dicts Henry's  death,  481.  Is  declared 
to  be  deposed,  482.  His  critical  posi- 
tion and  intrepidity.  486.  Besieged  in 
Rome,  487.  Rejects  terms  of  peace, 
489.  Obtains  succors  in  money  flrom 
Normans.  491.  In  St.  Angelo,  492. 
Rescued  oy  the  Normans,  493.  Retires 
from  Rome,  496.  His  death  and  char- 
acter, 496.  His  system,  4)7.  His 
schemes  against  Mohammedanism,  iv. 
24. 

Gregory  Till.,  iv.  444,  445. 

Gregory  IX.,  ( Ugolino,)  v.  821.  His  first 
act,  S24.  His  letter  to  the  Lombards, 
827.  Incensed  at  delay  of  Crusado, 
886.  Hi-i  declaration  against  Freder- 
ick II.,  387  Excommunicates  Fredeiw 
ick,  887, 841,  844.  Driven  fh)m  Rome, 
845.  Hit*  inveteracy  against  Frederick, 
847.    Denounces  treaty  with  Saracena, 

867.  His  letter  to  Albert  of  Austria, 
867.    Invades  Apulia,  870.    Kaiaefl  war 


530 


INDEX. 


afftinfft  rrwleriek.  871.  Diittpproved 
by  Chrfeteudom,  874.  Bfetams  to 
Romr,  378.  Htf  trmtjr  with  Frederick, 
878.  Proaiulg»rM  the  DeereUla,  8il6. 
Hill  intriipief  with  Lombardn.  404.  His 
eorrmpondcDO*  with  FnMlt-rick,  411. 
ProtounrM  ezrommanicmtioD,  416. 
Jiepl>  tu  Fivdcnck,  427.  lBju«tioaB 
trom  Bnglifih  elergy,  484.  Oflfers  «in- 
pira  to  KobOTi  of  Frauet,  486.  Hia 
war  with  EmperoTf  447.    Hi*  •okma 

SroeeMioa  at  Rome,  4^.  SamiiMNM 
ouncil  to  Rome,  452.  His  dntth,  456. 
P<ac«M  InqubitioD  under  Frtan,  ri.  84. 
Favorn  Unirenity  of  P»rl«,  66. 

Grtgory  X.,  lii«  election  aod  Tiewv,  Ti. 
1!^,  ri4.  Hb  measures  of  pacification, 
125.  ApproTes  election  of  l&odolph  of 
Hapsbaig,  127.  Holds  Coaneil  of  Ly- 
ous,  12tf.  Uvgnlates  PMal  eiectionji, 
181.    His  death,  188. 

Qregory  XI.,  oOen*  to  mediate  between 
France  and  En^hind.  tU.  219.  Hie  dis- 
asters, 221.  His  mercenaiy  force  In 
Italy,  222.  His  Toyage  to  Itilv.  224. 
His  autaority  rejected.  225.  His  death, 
22S.  His  compact  with  Edwnrd  III., 
870.    Procwd*  agaUnst  VVycUde,  8M). 

Qregory  XII. ,  tH .  296.  His  letter  to  riral 
Pope,  29< .  His  doubtful  conduct,  298. 
His  excuses,  299;  and  delays,  801.  In 
Venetiau  territory,  837.  1^  Council, 
812.  Declared  dcpoeed  at  Pisa.  817. 
His  retreat  at  Qaeto— flic*  to  Uiniiui, 
886.    His  deputies  at  Constance,  467. 

Qregory.  Antipope,  iii.  224. 

Orim.  Edward,  tries  to  defend  Becket. 
It.  416. 

QHmoald,  Duke  of  Benerento,  U.  462. 

Qrosliit^  Robert,  Bishop  of  Lincoln,  t. 
624.  His  atrictness,  625.  Appears  be- 
fore Pope  lunocent  IV.  at  L>oui«,  526. 
Resists  command  of  Pope,  528.  Hia 
deiith  and  reputed  sanctity,  529. 

Oroves,  sacred,  of  Teuton*,  i.  361.  802. 

Qyolberto^  John,  Abbot  of  Vallombrosa, 
iii.  860. 

Qualo,  Cordinalf  Papal  Legato  in  Kng- 
land,  ▼.  818. 

OueU\  Duke  of  Bavaria,  opposes  Hen- 
ry IV.,  lil.  614.  His  breach  with  Papal 
party  &XZ.    Jolna  crusade,  iv.  70. 

Guelf^  of  Bararia,  the  younger,  marries 
Matilda  of  Tuscany,  ill.  612.  Quarrels 
with  her,  621.  Obtains  poa<>ession  of 
Tuscany,  It.  268. 

Ouel/M  in  Italy,  It.  480.  Beslst  Henry  of 
LuxeHibur)(,  vi.  618. 

Ontlfs  and  QhibelUnes,  It.  488 ;  ▼.  804 ; 
Tl.  58.  84, 179,  221;  tU.  71.  In  Milan, 
▼i.  614. 

Anitert,  Archbishop  of  RaTenna,  iii.  424. 
His  strife  wirh  Orefcory  VII.,  483,  4;j9. 
▲ntipope,  483.    CouMvxuted  at  liome, 


4BS.    Crowps  Hrarr  TT.  B 

DriTen  out  by  Victor  III.  a 

mans,  606-    Mitotain*  tafcasarlf  in 

617.    Condemned  at  CMiDril  of  I 

VI,  62D.    finally  cartndcd  from  ..^.i,^, 

622.     His  death.  It.  67. 

Gtido.  Duke  «f  Sp^tlet/*.  hb  attempt  oo 
BniKDHdv.  iii.  luB.  His  warn  in  Italy, 
104.    Flijrht  and  dMth.  Ki7. 

Oantfo,  Arciibisnop  of  Milan,  iii .  312.  Hia 
tfaniditv.  819.  t<erife  with  A  rial  1,  8*4. 
Resigns  his  aee,  8*7.    Div ,  848. 

Outdo  di  Montefeltro,  hi»  a^lTirp  tn  Beoi- 
ikce  VIII.,  Ti.  22^,  ::2l. 

Guido  delU  Torre.  In  Milan.  tI.  514,  S1&. 

Guiscartf,  Itobert,  ui.  8^1.  Attacks  Greek 
Empire,  486.  S^od*  snrror  to  Pnpr 
Gregurv  Vll.,491.  AdTancea on  Kone, 
498.  Firrt  tie  cit^^  494.  His  seTerity 
to  Itoniaun,  495. 

Chmdebald.  Bui]gundian  prinre.  ^lars  hia 
brothers,  i.  8<9,  383.  tiaTrs  hia'nieee 
Clotilda,  879.  Becomes  tributary  to 
CioTifl,  883. 

Oundirar^  the  Burgandlin,  I.  879. 

GuntAtr^  Arehbisbop  of  Cologne,  U.  46. 
Excommnnicateil  b\  Nictriax  I ..  47.  Re- 
tires to  France,  48.  IVnouneca  tiM 
Pope.  49.  Ab-iudoned  by  Lotaair,  60. 
His  humiliation  and  death,  69. 

Guntker^  of  2Scl»wa7tzp«i bur;:,  elected  Ite* 
peror  —  ivalgns  —  his  death.  Tii.  147. 

Guy,  Count  ot  Flanders,  Ti.  267- 
doued  by  UdwAni  I.,  299. 
ment  of;  806.  807. 


H. 


Hadrian  I.,  U.  441.  Attacked  by 
deritti.  444.  Sends  to  Cl 
445.  Endowed  by  Charlemague  with 
trrritorieii.  448.  Lor>l  of  the  Bsarehato, 
449.  iii.4  de;»th,  463.  His  defeiwnee  to 
Charlemagne,  5U4. 

HtuJriaa  II.,  condemns  Photins,  Ml.  86. 
HiA  reception  of  Lotbair  II..  69.  Ad- 
heres to  Louis  II.  against  Charles  tha 
Balfl,  71-  His  letter  to  Charke  the 
Bald,  74.  AbaiidoMS  Carlomaa,  79. 
His  death,  80. 

Hadrian  IV.  (Nicolas   Bceakspear),  It. 

.  2rt3.  ifis  miMdon  to  NorwaT,  MS. 
Omnti  IreUnd  to  Henry  if.,  264. 
Plitce*  Rome  ander  Interdict,  186. 
Puts  to  death  Arnold  of  Bieeria,  170. 
His  fear  of  Frederick  Barlaioaaa,  271. 
Crowns  him.  278.  Alliance  with  WU- 
liam  of  girilT,  274.  Hia  legatee  at 
Bemncou,  276.  Seeming  reconrlliattoa 
uith  Fivderick,  278.  His  rorreepim- 
deu<*e,  278 :  and  demand.<^,  281.  Bis 
flrninesx.  288.  Hit  n^n^  treatv  with 
Lombard  cities  ~  hi»  death,  Id5,'l8li. 


INDEX. 


531 


Baririaa  T.,  ▼!.  184. 

Haeretico  de  Comburendo,  statute,  tU. 
410. 

Hakim ^  Sultan  of  Bgypt,  peiaeciitef  pil- 
grims, It.  21. 

BkUam^  Robert,  Bishop  of  Salisbury,  at 
Constance .  yi  i .  461 .  Su  p  porta  Em  peror , 
466.  Condemns  punishment  of  death 
fbr  hereby,  501.     His  death,  512. 

Hamburg  and  Bremen,  Archbishopric  of, 
iii.  140. 

JSaniio,  ArehbiNhop  of  Cologne,  iii.  829. 
Carries  off  young  Emperor  H»*nry  IV., 
880.  Becomes  unpopular,  832.  Hli 
strife  with  Adalbert  of  Bremen,  88S. 
His  power,  339.  InsurrecUon  a^iost, 
411.     His  TengCiince.  412. 

MarUittfr,  Stephen,  founder  of  Cistercian 
order,  iv.  !>>!. 

Harold^  Prince  of  Denmark,  baptised  at 
Ingeliiiiui.  ill.  133. 

Batekwnod,  Captain  of  Free  Company, 
vil.  220. 

Jiartzbttrs:^  stronghold  of  Henry  IV.,  iU. 
40S.     Burnt  b>  Saxons,  409. 

Heathenism  extinct  under  Qregory  I.,  U. 
89. 

Heaven^  yiii.  228.   Dante's  theoiy  of,  229. 

Hfbrew  Scriptures,  yiii.  492. 

Hefrira,  U.  129. 

Htiffel'jerg,  l*ope  John  XXIII.  Imprisoned 
at,  yii.  480. 

Heiinburg,  Gregory  of,  yiii.  98. 

Helena.  Empress,  ii.  889. 

H'l/atif/,  The.  vili.  867. 

Heli,  tales  of  yisits  to,  ii.  101.  Ideas  of, 
yiii.  222.    Dante's,  224. 

Heioisa,  ir.  201.  Her  deyotion  to  Ab4- 
lard,  201.  Her  marriage  —  take^  the 
yeil.  203,  204.  Prioress  of  Argenteuil 
—  Abbess  of  the  Paraclete  —  her  let- 
ters. 210.    Buries  Abelard,  220. 

He  not  icon  of  Zeno.  its  temporary  success, 
i.  828.    Satisfies  no  p«rty,  827. 

Henry  II.,  Emperor,  iii.  222.  His  corona- 
tion. 224.  Oyerruna  Apulia  and  tukes 
Capor.,  226. 

Henry  III.,  Empwor,  tuanlts  at  his 
coronation,  iii.  228.  Degrades  the  three 
Popes,  288.  His  eoronation  and  oath, 
297  His  commanding  chapicter,  289. 
His  war  with  Hungary,  272.  IILs  meet- 
ing with  Leo  IX.,  278.  Marches  into 
Italy,  286.  Recalled  to  Germany,  287. 
Death  of,  288. 

Henry  IV.,  Emperor,  his  abduction  by 
Arohbishop  Hanno,  iii.  380.  His  re- 
sentment, 883.  Fayont  Adalbert  of 
Bremen,  884.  His  minority,  339.  Oon- 
flrms  election  of  Gregory  VII.,  857. 
His  character.  408.  His  marri.-^,  408. 
His  war  with  the  Saxons,  404.  Takes 
refuge  i'l  Worms —  regainx  ir.s  power, 
400.    His  braach  with  Gregory  VII., 


418.  Summoned  to  Rome.  428.  Calla 
Diet  at  Worms,  481.  Declares  Popa'a 
deposition,  482.  Letter  to  clergy  and 
people  of  Rome,  488.  Deposed  and  in- 
terdicted by  Pope,  437.  Conspiracy 
against,  440.  Deserted  by  prelates,  442. 
His  despt'r.ition,  448.  Retires  tfi  Spires, 
460.  In  Burgundy,  451.  At  Canosa, 
456.  llis  degrading  submission,  457; 
and  conditional  absolution,  469.  Re- 
tires to  Keggio,  462.  Grows  in  pojrer, 
466.  His  craft,  467.  Reaction  in  fa- 
yor  of  470.  Inyades  Swabia,  471.  His 
snecesi^es  oyer  Rudolph ,  478.  Again  ex- 
communicated,  478.  Renounces  Qr^- 
ory*s  authority,  482.  Defeated  at  the 
Elster — marches  into  Italy,  484.  Be- 
sieges Rome,  487.  Proposes  terms,  488. 
Wastes  Tuscany,  490.  Obtains  posses- 
sion of  Rome  —  crowned  by  Antipope, 
492.  Retires  before  Normans,  493.  Re- 
news war  with  Matilda,  618.  His  difll- 
culties  in  Germany,  614.  Ui^  son  Con- 
rad's rebellion,  616.  Disinherits  Con- 
rad, iy.  68.  Protects  Jews,  71-  Makes 
Henry  his  heir  —  his  prosperity,  72. 
Proclaims  peace  of  the  l^pire,  78. 
Fails  to  acknowledge  Paschal,  74.  His 
excommunication  renewel.  76.  His  son 
Henry  rebels  against  him,  79.  Deserted 
by  his  followers,  81  Deceiyed  by  his 
son  —  made  prisoner,  82.  His  humilia- 
tion, 88.     Popular  feeling  in  his  favor. 

84.  Hecoyers  strength — keeps  Easter 
at  Liege,  85.  His  death  —  treatment 
of  his  remains,  86-88.  His  funeral 
finally  celebrated.  114. 

Henry  V.,  made  heir  to  Emigre,  iy.  72. 
Rebels  ag.ii:ist  his  father,  79.  His  hy- 
pocrisy, 81 ;  and  treachery,  82.  Im- 
prisons his  f  itlier,  88.  Elected  Emper' 
or,  84.  Besieges  Cologne,  86.  His  treat- 
ment of  his  father's  remains,  87.  In- 
vites Paschal  II.  into  Germany.  91. 
Asiierts  ri^ht  of  investiture,  92.  Ilotds 
Diet  at  Ratiabon,  and  collects  his  forooa, 
98.    Enters  Italy  and  destroys  Novara, 

85.  Advances  on  Rome.  96.  His  treaty 
aith  Pope  —  gives  up  iuvestirure,  96. 
His  proo«s>ion  to  St.  Peter's,  100.  Hol- 
lowuess  of  his  compact,  101.  Impris- 
ons Pope.  104.  Contest  with  Romans, 
104.  Tr&itv  with  Pope,  107.  Crowned 
by  P«schal  II.,  108.  Returns  to  Ger- 
many. 109.  Excommunicated  by  Coun- 
cil of  Vienne.  112.  Celebrates  his  ftther's 
funeral.  114.  Enters  Italy  — takes 
possession  of  Tnscauy,  122.  Advances 
to  Rome,  128.  His  meeting  wich  (!a- 
lixtus  II.,  185.  His  afEairs  in  Germany, 
141.  Treaty  with  Siixons,  148.  0«n- 
cordat  with  the  Pope,  144.  His  death, 
149. 

Henry  VL,  marries  Constantia,  heireas  of 


582 


INDEX 


BSKET. 

SieilT— hli  feroritj,  It.  441.  Anccdot« 
of  hu  coronation,  449.  DtMCruja  i'us- 
culam  —  hia  war  with  TMurred.  449. 
Imprisons  Richard  Coeur  de  Liou,  461. 
RegMins  Apulia  and  Sicily,  454.  Over- 
runs Italy  —  his  cruelties,  465.  Kz- 
ooDimonicated,  4-56.  His  power  —  dis- 
mantles Capua  and  Naples —  hi»  death, 
468.  Buried  at  Palermo,  458.  Hb  pre- 
tended wUI,  491. 

Hntry^  son  of  Frederick  U.,  elected  suc- 
cessor to  his  father,  t.  292.  Declared 
hdr  both  of  the  Empire  and  the  King- 
dom of  Sicily,  847.  His  father's  rioe- 
SreDti]iQermanv,408.  His  rebellion. 
9. 

Henry  1.  of  England,  complaints  against, 
at  Council  of  Hheims,  It.  134.  His  in- 
terriew  with  Calixtus  II.,  188.  Ac- 
knowledges Innoovnt  11.,  171.  Settles 
question  of  luTe^titure.  304. 

Htnry  II.  of  Kogland,  his  power  aud 
abiUty,  iy.  807,  833.  Ace«Fsion  of.  315. 
Makes  liecket  chancellor,  816.  His 
blind  confldenre  in  Becket,  821.  Ap- 
points him  archbishop,  823.  Is  opposed 
by  him.  328.  Resistit  clerical  immuni- 
ties, 880.  Jealous  of  clerical  power, 
884.  Calls  parliament  at  \V(«tniin»ter 
—  resisted  by  Becket.  334.  Summons 
council  at  Clarendon,  338.  Esttiblishes 
Constitutions,  S37.  Negotiates  with 
Alexander  III.,  841.  His  niea.<>ures  on 
Becket's  flight,  868.  Send*  embassy  to 
Flanders  and  France,  354.  Banishes 
Beoket's  dependents,  361.  Makes  over- 
tures to  Frederick  Barbarossa,  368. 
Wavers  between  rival  Popes.  304.  Cited 
by  Becket,  366.  His  wrath  at  Becket's 
measures,  370.  Causes  Becket's  ex- 
pulsion from  Pontigny.  871.  Assists 
Alexander  III.  with  money,  875.  Re- 
eeives  Papal  legates,  880.  Meets  Becket 
at  MontmiraU,  385.  His  war  with 
France,  886.  His  intrigues  in  Italy. 
888.  Interview  with  Papal  legates, 
880.  Treaty  broken  oflF,  893.  Renews 
negotiations,  396.  His  proclamation, 
897.  Obtains  the  coronation  of  his 
son,  400.  His  reeonciliation  with  Beck- 
et. 403.  Receives  exeommunicated 
bishops,  411.  His  (htal  words,  4U. 
His  sorrow,  418.  Reconciliation  with 
Pope,  419.   Penance  at  Canterfonry,  420. 

Hnuy  III.  of  England,  his  minority,  v. 
811.  .\ccepts  crown  of  Naples  for  his 
■on,  611.  His  contributions  to  Pope, 
612.  Appeal  of  St.  Louis  to,  vi.  80. 
His  vanity,  42, 48.  His  war  with  barons, 
86.  His  imprisonment,  101 ;  aiid  vic- 
tory, 102.     Reaction  against,  104. 

JMmry  lY.  of  England,  accession  of,  vli. 
408.  His  dealings  with  pariiament,  418. 
Ghueh  property  under,  Till.  149. 


Henry  V.,  aooeralon  of.  vil.  417. 

carity  of  his  throne,  421. 

against  liol lards.  422. 
Henry ^  Prince,  son  of  Henry  II.,  his  eda- 

cation    intru«ted    to   Becket.  It.  8& 

Crowned  by  Arrhbhihop  of  Tovk,  400 
Htnry,  Count  of  Flanders,  iv.  854. 
Henry,  Emperor  of  Constantinople,  T. 

120. 
Henry^  youngest  son  of  Emperor  fnd- 

erick  II.,  his  death,  v.  Sib. 
Henry  I.,  King  of  France,  Impedes  Gonn- 

cll  of  Rheims,  iii.  249. 
Henry  the  Uou,  subdued  by  Fredofiek 

Barbarnssa,  iv.  488. 
Henry  of  Amitria,  vii.  74. 
Henry,  Bishop  of  Winchester,  iv.   806 

HU  advice  to  Beeket,  846,  8&6. 
Henry^  Bishop  of  Liege,  profligacy  of.  viH. 

168. 
Henry   the    Deacon,    v.    148.  144.    Hi« 

S reaching  and  proaelytes,  144.  HesUted 
V  St.  Bernard,  146. 

Henry  of  Castile,  vi.  110.  Sleeted  Sen*- 
tnr  of  Rome — adhere*  to  Conradio, 
111. 

Henry  of  Luxembnig,  King  of  Romans, 
vl.  414, 611.  Enten  Itoly,614.  Crowned 
in  Milan,  515.  Takes  Bresda— his 
poverty,  618.  Crowned  at  Uoma  —  his 
war  with  Naples,  620.  His  noble  char- 
acter and  death.  621.  Daute's  hero, 
622. 

Htnry  of  Thuringia,  antl-Smperor.  v. 
492.    His  death,  494. 

HeraeHuty  Emperor  In  the  Bast,  IL  146. 
Involved  in  Monothelite  controversy, 
267.  Publishes  the  Ecthesb,  270  His 
death,  fbllowed  by  revointions  272. 

Heredipiety  denounced  by  Jerome,  i.  118. 

Hereditary  clergy,  danger  of,  iii.  876. 

Heresy  a  new  crime,  i.  488.  Under  Jus- 
linian's  Uw,  512.  Under  barbaric  codca, 
641.  dUtutes  apdnst,  v.  226.  In- 
creased Heveritv  against,  228.  Is  not 
extinguished,  '228.  Supported  by 
preaching,  234;  and  by  vertiaenlur 
teaching,  286.  Laws  of  Frederick  II. 
against,  884. 

Heretics^  re-baptism  of,  eontroverqr 
about.  I.  ^.  Laws  agtlnst,  618.  Cru- 
sades agiCinst,  V.  181.  Tnive  classta 
of.  141.  Bumtfg  of;  148.  Laws  of 
Vn>JcHck  II.  agsiiu^t.  297.  IVrse- 
cuted.  4<i2.  Proce<lure  against,  vl. 
83.  Perr'ecution  of  in  France,  87. 
Burned  in  Germany.  vHi.  407. 

Heribert,  Archbishop  of  Milan,  crowns 
Conrad  the  Salic,  iii.  806-  His  wars. 
307.  His  coufawt  with  Conrad,  800. 
Hi«  death,  811. 

Heribtrt.  Archbishop  of  Bavenna,  Bi. 
807. 

HerUmbald^  hU    nal  a^dnst   mnrriad 


INDEX. 


588 


BRiLvnr. 

elergy,  ill.  848.  Hb  tyranny  at  Mtlan, 
846. 

Herluin^  founder  Of  Abbey  of  Beo,  It. 
800. 

Werman^  Archbishop  of  Oologna,  ill.  247. 

Herman  of  Salia,  Master  of  Teutonio 
Order,  his  fidelity  to  Trederick  IT.,  r. 
606.    His  hiffh  charaeter,  Ti.  686. 

HermenegiUi^  Spanish  prince,  it.  66. 
His  rebellion  and  death,  66. 

Hmningard  married  to  Charlemagne,  ii. 
488.    IMToroed,  441. 

HnTnintforri^  wife  of  Lonis  the  Pious,  ii. 
626.    Her  deathf  626. 

H>rtAa  (or  Herthus),  a  Teutonic  deity, 
i.869. 

Herulians,  i.  403. 

Hexham^  church  at,  ii.  210. 

Hierarchy  under  Charlemagne,  fltudal, 
ii.  486.  Strengthened  by  Charlemagne, 
497. 

Hierarchy  of  Middle  Ages,  benefits  of,  iii. 
600. 

HiemreAy,  strength  of,  r.  186.  Its  ^- 
anny,  187.  Contest  with  friars,  r\.  68. 
Power  of,  unshakeo,  viii.  180.  Celes- 
tial, 190.  Aflcendenev  nf,  428.  Jeal- 
ous of  diffusion  of  books,  496.  Decline 
of  its  power,  496. 

fltfrorcAy,  Anglo-Norman,  It.  804. 

Hierarchy,,  English,  rii.  8i52.  Commofis 
petition  against,  865. 

Hierarchy  of  France,  ii.  892 

Hierarchy  of  Germany,  becomes  Teuton- 
ic, ii.  616.  AriRtocrntic.  688.  Its  great 
increase  of  power,  iii.  46. 

Hierarchy^  Transalpine,  Its  perpetuity, 
iii.  41.  Supenwdes  feudal  nobility, 
^.  Sanctions  dlToroe  of  Theutberga, 
45. 

Hilarius  at  Synod  of  Bphesus,  i.  286. 
Made  Pope,  812.  Rebukes  Anthemius, 
818. 

HtlariiUf  ArchbL^hop  of  Aries,  i.  272. 
Denies  Papal  Jurisdiction.  278.  His 
death,  274.  Condemned  by  Valentin- 
ian  III.,  276. 

Hilary^  Bishop  of  Chichester,  urges 
Beeket  to  resign.  It.  846. 

HiliUbtrt^  Bishop  of  Le  Mans,  ▼.  144. 

Hildtbnuid.     See  Gregory  VII. 

Hincmar^  Archbishop  of  Kheims.  ill.  61. 
Accepts  Faloe  Decretals.  64.  Supports 
Charles  the  Bald,  72.  Letters  to  Ha- 
drian n.,  72,  77.  His  cruelty  to  his 
nephew,  80.     Persecutes  Ootschalk,  It. 

Hinemarj  Bishop  of  Laon,  (nephew  of 
Archbishop  Hlncmar),  ill.  76.  His 
quarrel  with  his  uncle,  76.  Support- 
ed by  Pope  Hadrian  II.,  77.  Is 
blinded,  80. 

Hippolytm^  Bishop  of  Portus,  i.  66. 
Probable  author  of  the  '^  Refutation 


of  all  Heresiee,"  75.  His  strleturse 
on  Pope  Callistus,  78.  His  banishment 
to  Sardinia,  and  martyrdom  at  Rome, 
80. 

Historical  Ohxietian  poets,  vlii.  806. 

History^  Latin,  Till.  881. 

Hohenburg,  battle  of,  iU.  406. 

Hohenstaa/en^  house  of.  It.  266. 

Holy  Island,  or  Lindisfame,  Ii.  190. 

Holy  Land,  rsTerence  for,  It.  16. 

Honorius  I.,  Pope,  acknowledges  Mono- 
theUtism,  U.  268. 

HoHoriug  n.  (Lambert  of  Ostia),  Papal 
legate  at  VTorms,  It.  144.  Elected 
Pope,  161.  His  peace  with  Bmperor 
LothAir,  152. 

H>noriuti  III.,  Pope,  supports  Simon  de 
Montfort,  t.  221.  Honors  St.  Dominlo, 
248.  Repose  of  his  Popedom,  284. 
His  mildness,  286.  Urges  the  Cru- 
sade, 286.  His  correspondence  with 
Frederick  II.,  291.  Crowns  Fred- 
erick, 296.  His  letter  to  Frederick, 
806.  Arbitrates  between  Frederick 
and  the  Lombard  League  —  his  death, 
808.  His  relations  with  England,  810. 
Assumes  protection  of  Henry  III.  of 
England,  811.  His  claim  on  English 
benefices,  816. 

Honorius  lY.,  Pope,  tI.  172. 

Honorius^  Emperor,  his  inactiTity,  I. 
187.  Espouses  the  cause  of  Chrysoe- 
tom,  142.  Destroys  Stilicho,  146.  HIa 
sopiiieness  during  Alaric's  iuTasionS) 
161.  His  rascript  against  Pelaglaninn, 
188. 

Hope  J  on  Architecture,  Till.  418. 

Hormisdas^  Pope,  supports  Yltalianus, 
i.  8€2.  Appealed  to  by  Bmperor  Anas- 
tasius,  4SSi.  His  embassy  to  Constan- 
tinople, 424.  His  demands,  425.  His 
second  embassy,  427.  Excites  sul^ts 
of  Empire  against  Anastasius,  428. 
Establishes  his  authority  in  the  East, 
481. 

Hones  sacrificed  by  Teutons,  1.  861. 

Hosiut  or  CordOTa,  i.  99, 101. 

HospitaUets^  t.  74.  Their  opposition  to 
Frederick  II.  in  Palestine,  fiSO.  . 

Hroswitha,  Till.  816,  817.  Her  religions 
comedies,  817. 

Hubert.  Archbishop  of  Canterbuiy,  death 
of,  T.  20. 

Hugh  Capet,  ifi.  206. 

Hitgh  of  Provence,  iii.  166.  Marries  Ma- 
rMia,  167.  Driren  out  of  Rome,  168. 
His  palace  at  Pavia,  171.  Conspiracy 
against,  172.  Is  deserted,  178.  Re- 
tires to  ProTence  and  dies,  174. 

Hugh  of  Lyons,  his  letters  to  Counteis 
Matilda,  lU.  604. 

ILigo  the  VVhite,  his  eharges  against 
Gregory  VII.,  Hi.  481. 

Hum/red^  Archbishop  of  BaTenna,  da 


534 


INDEX. 


mad 


by  Fope  Lao  IX..  9.  SiO.    Mea, 


Bmmfrtj^  Nonnm  prinee.  Hi.  280.  Obn- 
dneto  Lao  E(.  to  Kome.  281. 

BirJifafTinu,  fsracitj  ot  tti.  140.  Bxtrat 
of  their  rsvBgea,  160.  R«>iiit  expedi- 
tion or  PMar  the  Hermit,  tr.  30. 

Hmmgury,  ocenpied  hj  MaK^an,  iii.  ISO. 
Coaversion  of,  271.  AlLJn*  of,  t.  71. 
TIm  Httter  oC.  Ti.  68. 

HmmSy  terrota  of  tbeir  iiiTasioD.  i-  299. 

Hmss,  Jobn,  arriTca  ftt  CoD«>t»nea.  vii. 
488.  PiVTioiia  history  of,  438.  Rertor 
of  aniranitT  of  Pnfne.  440.  Hia  re- 
eaptiOD  at  Cbnatuice,  444.  Impriaoiied, 
446.  Abandoned  by  Braperor,  455. 
Hia  doctrine,  482.  In  urged  to  remnt. 
488.  Intemgation  of,  iSb.  Broaght 
before  COnnril.  486.  Charges  af^inst. 
487.  Hia  boldneea,  488.  Refiuwa  to 
ntmet,  481.  His  wridnga  burned, 
406.  Dapadation  of,  496.  Sxeeution 
of,  487.  Waa  m  martyr  to  the  hietai^ 
efay,  480.    Serere  treatment  of,  506. 

EbusHe  war,  Tii.  ML    Atroeity  of,  518. 

J&snl««,  thdr  aueceaaea.  Tii.  546.  Inmda 
Oennany,  540. 

Hymn*,  Latin,  Tiii.  808. 

Hfpatia  murdered  by  parUaana  of  Ctril, 
L215 

I.  J. 

J»teb  de  Miea,  hia  opinion*  about  admin- 

latratfon   of  Cup   to   Laity,   tH.   485. 

Condunned  by  Oonneil  of  Gonstaoce, 

486. 
Jaeopofiu  da  Todi,  Fianciaean  poet,  t1. 

186.  YerBM  against  Boni&ce  Till.,  281. 
/Of  o,  St.,  oi  Gompoatella.  viii.  218. 
Jmnes  I.  of  Anragon,  pruioner  to  Simon 

de  Montfort,  ▼.  208.     Solution  of  to 

Clement  IV..  Ti.  107. 
JtuHfs^  King  o^  Sicily,  ri.  171.    Succeeds 

to   throne   of  Arragon,  177.     Makes 

treaty  with  Angerioca,  215. 
Jatu,  of  Burgundy,  Ti.  588. 
Iceland^  Innoeent  in.*s  letter  to  Bishops 

of,  T.  70,  71. 
lamodasm,  begun  by  Leo  the  Imnrian. 

ii.  288.    Nature  of  controrerisy,  294. 

Was  premature,  286.  Important  points 

iuTolTod  in,  207.    Causes  tumults  at 

Constantinople,  800.     Condemned  by 

Moond  Council  of  Nleea.   848.     Sup- 

Kssed,  855.    ReriTed  by  Tlieophilus, 
.    Abhorrence  of  in  the  West,  878. 
Ei^olned    by  edict   at  Ravenna,  876. 
Directed  against  statues,  riii.  458. 
Idoiatrff  alleged   against    Templars,  tI. 

453.    Against  Boniface  Till..  500. 
/can  Petit  asaurta  le^ftlity  of  murder,  Yii. 

507. 
Jtrom*  denonacea  vices  ot  Roman  Churrh, 


uiaucgjii. 

L  118.  His  Inflneiiee  over  noble  ladlea, 
116.  Author  of  the  TnlKate.  117.  Be- 
tires  from  Roma.  119.  Hbi  arrount  at 
the  sack  of  Rome,  153.  Rreists  P»- 
laidn*,  166.  Persecuted  by  Pelagiuia, 
167. 

Jeramt  of  Prigue  joina  Huas  at  Con- 
staoca,  Tii.  480.  His  impnaonmcat 
and  rrtrictation,  501.  Remnt«  his 
recantation  —  bis  condemnation,  dU8. 
His  eonrag:e  and  execution,  5()5. 

Jenualem.  Churrh  of.  al«a\s  rabordia- 
ate,  i.  180.  Tiolei;t  quarrels  at,  316. 
Bee^wged  bv  Mohammedans,  1S9.  Ca- 
pitulates, 150.  Capture  of  by  Crusa- 
den.  iT.  86.  Lo«e  of.  444.  Yielded 
by  treaty  to  Frederick  II..  t.  8r>9. 

Jews  at  Alexandria,  i.  211-214.  Pto- 
tected  by  Thcodoric,  485.  Of  Arabia, 
their  strife  with  Mohammed,  ii.  131. 
Their  rudeness,  187.  Per*ecution  of 
In  Fianee,  ir.  22.  MaanacRd  by  Cru- 
saders, 51.  Protected  br  Ilenrr  TT., 
71.  Protected  by  ;it.  BeriMni,  253. 
Plundered  by  King  Philip.  Ti.  256. 
880.  Peraented  by  French  peasantry, 
Til.  66' 

l^iMfm*,  martyrdom  of,  i.  63. 

Jjgnatius,  Patriarch  of  Constaotinopla, 
iii.  28.  Banished  by  emperor  MicbMl 
ni ,  24.  His  sullerit^,  25.  Appears 
beCore  l*apal  legates  —  persifcution  of; 
27.    His  restoration  and  death.  36. 

Jgnoranee^  x«ligk>U8,  ot  lower  orJers, 
T.281. 

lUtfTicwm^  church  of,  sutt)acC  to  that  of 
Roma.  1.  270. 

ArM|r^«.  alleged  miraclea  In  defence  oC 
ii.  810.    Precedents  for.  Tiii.  458. 

Imtigt- worship^  ii.  296.  Edict  against, 
806.  Condemned  by  Council  of  Cy>n- 
stantinople.  827.  Heasnies  of  Tbco- 
phiiu9  a^inst.  863.  Restored  by  The- 
odora, 866.  PreTaib  in  Italy,  37& 
Condemned  in  Western  empire,  660. 

"  Imitation  of  Christ,"  Tin.  2»7.  Influ- 
ence of.  296.  Not  sacerdotal.  290.  Ra- 
markable  omission  in.  801. 

ImmaeMlatf  Conception,  eiU.  806. 

hnmmnities  of  deigy.  It.  880.  Abtil- 
ished  by  Council  of  Ckrendon,  888. 
Beeket  tlie  martyr  of,  42L  Resisted 
by  Edward  I.,  tU.  848. 

buiulgentfs,  TiU.  226.  Sale  of,  tU.  886: 
TiU.  480.    In  Bohemia,  TiL  442. 

In/antieide^  laws  of  Justinfam  against,  i. 

Jnge6iirga  of  Denmaik,  manied  to  Philip 
Augustus,  It.  540.  Ineun  hlsaTersioo, 
540.  ImprisonwI.  548.  Reinstated, 
551.    Neglected,  555. 

Iknorent  I..  Pope,  i.  134.  Asaerts  Roman 
supremacy,  135.  Hi:*  dominion  OTer 
the  western  chuelies,  187.    Supports 


INDEX. 


585 


nrxooMT. 

GhrvflOfltom,  189.  Pre^eot  at  flmt 
■hge  of  Room  bj  Alaric,  149.  JSm- 
bnces  opinioni  of  Augustine,  176. 
Pronounces  Mg^ioMt  Pttlagius,  178.  Uis 
death,  178. 

Jnnoctnt  II.,  It.  Ifi2.  Hi»  contest  with 
Anacletuff,  163.  Supported  by  trans- 
Alpine  sovereigns,  154.  Itetires  to 
France.  157.  At  Rheimfl  —  ruled  by 
St.  Bernard,  169.  Visits  Clairvauz  — 
acknowledged  bv  snvi>rei}?n.'!.  170  Ad- 
vances to  itome.  173.  At  Pisa,  174. 
Ho]d<  Lateran  Ominril.  176-  Hi::  wirs, 
178.  Condeuins  Ab^lard,  216.  Insur- 
rection a•»ain^t  iu  Koine,  240.  Ills 
dMth,  241. 

Innocent  ITI.,  \f.  468.  Elert<>d  Pope, 
471.  Uis  policy,  474 ;  and  adminis- 
tration, 475.  HiK  wars  i'l  Italy.  476, 
477.  War  with  Markwald  of  Anweiler, 
481.  IbtablishMi  power  in  Italy,  488. 
His  claims  on  kingdom  of  Naples,  484. 
Qnardian  of  Frederick  IT  ,  484.  £n- 
0iges  Walter  of  Briemie,  490.  Vosten 
strife  in  (Jermnnv,  499.  Hisi  demands 
on  Philip  the  Uohenstaufen,  600.  Uis 
policy  in  Germany.  604,  607.  Address 
to  Oemian  euTo^s,  607.  Ills  "Delib- 
eration." 610.  Declares  Otho  emperor, 
616.  Forced  to  acknowledge  Philip, 
628.  Crowns  Otho  IV.,  527.  HLs 
qnarrel  with  Otho,  629,  680.  Sup- 
ports Fn^derirk  II.,  582.  Forbids  di- 
▼oree  of  Philip  AugUittus,  641.  Medi- 
ates betw««en  Philip  and  Richard  of 
Sngland,  644.  Places  France  under 
Interdict,  646.  (Compels  restoration 
of  Ingebuiq^,  651.  Uis  alliance  with 
RIehard  T..  ▼.  13.  His  Inxitr  in  King 
John's  diTorce.  15.  Quanels  with 
King  John,  20.  Appoint*  Stephen 
Langton  Archbishop  of  Canterbury, 
24.     Places  Englnnd  under  Interdict, 

.  27.  Excommunicates  John.  80.  De- 
clares his  deposition,  83.  Obtains  sur- 
render of  England,  87.  His  commnnd- 
ing  position,  40.  Takes  part  with  King 
John  —  rebukes  Langton  and  tbtf  bar- 
ons, 49  Condemns  Magna  Chnrta.  60. 
Excommunicates  barons,  53.  Excoiit- 
munieates  Philip  Augu))tus.  67.  His 
death,  67.  Uis  measures  in  Spiiin,  62. 
Condemns  marriage  of  Alfonso  of  Leon 
—  threatens  Leon  and  Castile  with  In- 
terdict, 68.  Crowoa  Pedro  of  Arragon, 
09.  ReoeiTes  fealtj  of  Arragon,  69. 
His  policy  towards  Rohonia,  Denmark, 
and  Hungary,  70,  71.  Urgas  the  crn- 
■ade,  76.  Requires  contributions,  77. 
Fails  to  rouse  seal,  80.  Prohibite  oom- 
meroa  with  Saracens,  fiB.  ReoeiTea 
Alexias  Comnenus,  98.  Forbids  expe- 
dition to  Zara,  96.  Condemns  expedi- 
tion to  Constantinople,  101.    BeoaiTM 


IHQUMITION. 

addiurtlin  of  Baldwin  and  the  Vene- 
tians, 112,  118.  Uis  answer?,  118, 114. 
Sends  Cardinal  Be:- edict  legate  to  Con- 
stantinople, 119,  120.  Itetonintends 
toleration  of  Greeks,  122  Mediates 
between  Franks  and  Bulgarians,  128. 
Seeming  peace  of  his  Popedom,  183. 
His  measured  against  heretics  in  south 
of  France,  166.  His  letter  to  Count 
Raymond,  174.  Commands  crusade 
agjiinst  ProTenre.  176-  His  crafty 
conduct,  182,  191.  Receiyefi  Ham- 
mond at  Rome.  193.  His  he.'-it-itioM, 
206.  Holds  Lateran  Council,  2U. 
Dispute  l)efore  him,  215.  Ovvrb<»rue 
by  Tiolence  of  prelatee,  217.  Sliowa 
fsTor  to  young  liaymond  of  Tonlouw, 
218.  UiM  death,  220.  Uis  nweption 
of  St.  Franri*.  269.  m»  chamrter, 
276.  Sanctions  Dominican  and  Fran- 
iiM*an  orden>,  280.  lieview  of  his  pon- 
tificate, 276-281. 

Innocent  IV..  t.  469.  His  correspond- 
ence with  Fmlerick  II.,  460.  Enters 
Rome,  462.  Negotiates  with  Kmpei-or, 
463.  His  flight  to  Genoa,  466.  To 
Lyons,  467.  Excommuniratce  Emper- 
or, 468.  Offers  to  visit  Kugtand,  471. 
His  insecurity  at  Lyons,  472.  Gifts 
to,  from  French  prelates,  472.  At 
Council  of  Lyons,  478-  Ilii*  addre!<s, 
475.  Declares  deposition  of  Emperor, 
479.  Claims  temporal  authority,  483. 
Uis  crusade  against  Emperor,  4^.  Ke- 
jects  medfaitlon  of  Louin  of  France, 
488.  Attempts  to  raise  Germaio .  488. 
Declares  Henry  of  Thuringia  Emperor, 
492.  Blakes  VVilUam  of  Holland  J£m- 
peror,  494.  Hi.«  conduct  after  Fred- 
erick's death,  607.  Confers  crown  of 
Naples  on  Prince  Edmund  of  England, 
511.  Aims  at  possession  of  Naples, 
617.  Manfbed^s  submission  to,  519. 
His  entry  into  Naples,  520.  Offers 
realm  to  Charles  of  Anjou  —  his  death. 
521.  Visions  regarding,  622.  Resisted 
by  Robert  Grostdte,  628.  Hi.«  indiffer> 
enco  to  crusade  of  St.  Louis,  vi.  26. 
His  bull  subjecting  Mendicant  Qrders, 
yii.  327. 

Innocent  V.,  yi.  184. 

Innocent  YI.,  yil.  200  Uis  tranquil  Pa- 
picy.  201.  Acquiesces  in  Golden  Bull, 
203.    His  death,  207. 

Innocent  VIT.,  vii.  292.  His  flight  fhmi 
itome,  and  return.  296.    Death  of.  296. 

*'  Innoc^nts^  Massacre  of.'*  a  mastery, 
ylli.  312. 

Inqiuisition  founded,  y.  226.  Of  Ton- 
louse,  yi.  82.  Form  of  procedure  in, 
ffi.  Placed  under  Friar  Preachers,  84. 
Rebellion  against.  86.  In  France  — 
condemned  by  Pnilip  the  Fair,  829. 
On  Frandacan  heretics,  yli.  65. 


536 


IKDEX. 


htquisitob. 

Inquisitor  in  Franoef  examinsA  TUnplan, 
ri.  406. 

Inquisitors  murdexvd,  vi.  86.  Expelled 
from  P»rma,  vii.  40. 

Institutes  of  Chnrlemagne,  ii.  491. 

Institutes  of  Ju«tiiiiau,  luake  no  men- 
don  of  Chrbtianity,  1.  490. 

Insurrections,  religious,  Ti.  57. 

Intellectual  movementf*,  It.  179;  t.  2M. 

Interdict  at  Kome,  iv.  265.  Couimaaded 
by  Becket.  894.  In  Fmnce.  544  Ter- 
ror of,  545.  Kaised,  552.  lu  Euglaud, 
T.  27.  Effipcto  of,  28.  In  Gennanv. 
Tii.  128.  Vorce  of,  riii.  138.  Disused, 
602. 

Investiture,  iii.  415.    Lay.  forbidden  by 
Gregory  VII.,  416.    Si-tthjd  bv  Henry 
y.  Htid  Pope  Piu»chal  II.,  iv.  98.    Set 
tied    by    conrordat    of    WomiR,    145. 
Question  of  in  England,  804. 

Joachim,  Abbot.  bi8  "  Eternal  GoMpel," 
—  prophecies,  vii.  29. 

Joanna  of  Naples,  Tii.  148.  Appeals  to 
Rienii,168. 

Joanna  II.  of  Naples,  her  conduct  to 
rival  Popes,  Tii.  249.  Is  put  to  death, 
261. 

Job,  book  of,  Gregory  the  Great  on,  ii. 
49. 

Johanitius,  King  of  Bulgaria,  his  Tictory 
at  Adrianople,  t.  128.  Pope  Innocent's 
letter  to  —  hU  reply,  124. 

John,  St.,  knights  of,  riTals  of  Templan, 
vi.  887.    Conquer  Rhodes,  890. 

John  I.,  Pope,  ambassador  to  Constanti- 
nople, i.  440.  Uis  instructious  from 
Thcodoric,  441.  Results  of  his  mis- 
sion uncertain,  ^42.  Imprisonment 
of,  and  death,  4^. 

John  II..  i.  458.  KeoeiTee  embamy  ftom 
East,  458. 

John  III.,  reinstates  bishops  in  Gaul,  1. 
476.    Intercedes  with  Narses,  476. 

John  IV.,  ii.  272. 

John  v..  ii.  287. 

John  VI.,  U.  290.  . 

JoAn  VII.,  ii.  290. 

John  VIII.,  restoriM  Photius,  iii.  87.  His 
pmition,  81.  Crowns  Charles  the  Bald 
Etupcror,  82.  Hifl  alarm  at  Saracens, 
84.  HU  war  with  Naples.  89.  Pays 
tribute  to  Saracenrt,  90.  8eiied  by 
L'imbert — flies  to  France.  91.  Calls 
com. oil  of  Tro^eti,  92.  Crowus  Louis 
the  Stammerer  —  his  fhrquent  exoom- 
municatious,  98.  Adopts  Boso,  Duke 
of  Lombardy,  94.  EndeaTors  to  as- 
semble council  at  Pa  via,  95.  Excom- 
municates Anspert,  Archbishop  of 
Milan,  95.  Crowns  Charles  the  Fat 
Emperor.  97.  Proposes  to  massacre 
the  Saracens,  98.  Writes  to  Charles 
the  Fat  —  his  death,  99.  Conspiracy 
•gainst,  100. 


JOBN. 

John  IX.,  iii.  112. 

John  X.,  the  paramour  of  Theodofm,  ISL 
160.  TransHted  from  Ravenna,  100. 
Forms  league  against  Sameens  — 
crowns  Berengnr,  161.  Defeats  thm 
Saracens  —  his  contest  with  Mamrti, 
168.  His  impriiwnment  and  dwth, 
166. 

John  XT.,  son  of  Maraaia,  iii.  167.  In- 
prisoned  by  Alberic,  169.  Uis  dwith, 
170. 

John  XII.,  iii.  175.  Crowns  Otbo  I.,  178. 
His  treachery,  179.  Flies  ftom  Rome, 
180.  Cited  to  appear — nfuses,  182. 
His  return  to  Rome,  and  death,  184. 

John  XIII.,  expelled  by  Romans,  iii.  186. 
Restored  by  Otho  T..  186. 

John  XIV.,  imprisoued  by  BowifMio  — 
bin  deith.  iii.  189. 

Jo/m  XV.,  iii  191. 

John  XV!.     S^e  Philagathos. 

Joftn  XVII.,  iii.  222. 

John  XVni.,  iii.222. 

John  XIX.,  crown:*  Henry  III.,  iii.  217. 

John  XXI.,  Ti.  184.  Stori«i  ngarMnf 
hid  death,  185. 

John  XXII.,  election  of,  Tii.  18.  His  pfv- 
Tious  history,  19.  EstabHsbes  Piop»- 
dom  at  ATignon  —  appoints  Cariinida, 
21.  His  Uriels  to  French  King,  88. 
His  belief  in  maffic.  24.  ffis  aTaiioa, 
51.  PerMiCuteK  Spiritualists,  65.  Bali 
against  Franciscans.  60.  His  Ilaliaa 
>licy,  71.  Ijeagae  with  Robert  oT 
aples,  72.  Process  against  Louis  d 
BaTaria,  7&  Excommnnirates  Q»- 
leaoo  Visconti,  78  ;  and  Loais,  79. 
His  league  wltii  Charles  the  VUr,  89. 
His  deposition  declared,  101.  Coat* 
mands  pxayenia  his  behalf,  107.  Rec- 
onciled with  the  ViiKM>nti,  106.  Heath 
of  hid  enemies.  110.  Accused  of  hn- 
esy,  118.  His  estrani^ement  tieom 
French  King,  117.  Uis  reeantatioa 
and  death,  118.  His  wealth  and  ve- 
nality, 119.    Uis  cUaractw,  190. 

John  XXIII.  (Balthasar  Cnssa),  at  Piaa, 
Tii.  320.  Character  of,  828.  PreTioos 
history,  829.  Legate  at  Boloffna,  880. 
Uis  election,  832.  Quarrel  with  Ladis- 
laus  of  Naples,  887.  Consents  to  Coun- 
cil, 842.  His  interview  with  Siicismund, 
848.  His  journer  to  Constance,  480. 
Uis  policy,  484.  Uis  reception  of  Uusi^,. 
444.  Hbi  supremacy  in  tlie  Council, 
448.  Threatening  i<igns  against,  454. 
IDs  cession  deamnd*^.  457.  Charges 
against,  460.  PtM.uiiws  to  abdicaie. 
4i51.  Demands  u|ion,  468.  Interview 
«ith  St;;{smunl,  467.  FUght,  469. 
Letter  to  Council,  470.  At  SrhafThaa- 
sen  —  hi.<i  routpluiiir'.  472.  His  e<m- 
duct  and  wt«kneM.  474.  At  Friboofir, 
477.    Surrendexa,  479.    lUs  imprisoa- 


pol 
Nai 


INDEX. 


537 


JOHN. 

ment,  480.  Lenleot  treatment  of,  606. 
gnbmits  to  Pope  .>.artin  V.,  526.  In 
named  Cardinal  —  dies  at  Florence, 
£26,626. 

John  of  England,  hiR  Hcce^idon,  t.  16. 
DiTorces  liUi  wife  and  marries  Imbella, 
16.  War  with  Philip  AuguKtu!*  —  flten 
to  England,  18.  His  Iom  of  Norman- 
dy,  20.  His  qnanrvl  with  Tnnoceot 
III.,  21.  Opprea^es  clergy,  28.  Ex- 
rommnnlcated,  80.  Hifl  fnllv  and 
profligacy,  81.  Declared  deposed,  82. 
Collects  forces,  88.  U\*  (It^pemtian 
—  threatens  to  euibrace  Mohumme- 
danium,  84.  Hi"  wonknoMi,  85.  Sub- 
mits to  Papal  Legate,  86.  Surrenden 
England  to  Popn,  37.  Hi*  aboolntion, 
48.  Second  surrender  of  the  realm, 
46.  Conrillatp*  the  riergr,  47.  Sup 
ported  hy  Pope.  49.  Signs  Magna 
Chartn,  50.  Released  from  oath  br 
Pope,  61.  His  war  with  Barons,  68. 
Death  and  character,  68.  Hin  our- 
rendcr  of  realm  deoland  void  by  Par- 
liament, Tii.  869. 

Mt»  Tali^s,  i.  a24. 

John,  Bishop  of  Antioch,  attempts  to  ap- 
pease Nestorian  strlJb,  1. 228.  AtCoun- 
rll  of  Ephej*n«.  237.  Re!>iflts  Crril  and 
Memnon«  23S.  His  league  with  Cyril, 
249.  Alienates  his  own  supporter^*, 
260.   Enforces  their  submLMion,   251. 

John,  Imperial  Commissary  at  Ephesns, 
i.  241.  Arrests  the  ooutendiiig  pre- 
lates, 242. 

John„  Bishop  of  Alexandria,  i.  837. 

John  of  Cappadoria.  Bishop  of  Co^^stanti- 
nople,  his  ambition,  i.  480.  UniTsrsal 
Bishop,  ii.  70. 

John  of  Damascus,  his  origlnjil.  818. 
Writes  against  Ironocltsm,  820.  His 
three  orations,  821. 

John^  Archbishop  of  Rarenna,  resists 
Nicolas  I.,  iii.  Si.  Forced  to  submit, 
89. 

John  Cresoentitts,  Patrician  of  Rome,  iii. 
224. 

John  of  Salisbarv,  friend  of  Beck<*t,  Ir. 
820;  Tiii.  241.  His  advico  to  Becket, 
iT.  862.    At  Canterbury,  414. 

John  of  Oxfbrd,  ambassador  at  ^Vun- 
burg,  ir.  864.  ExcommunicatiMi  by 
Becket.  869.  His  intrigues  at  Kome, 
874.  At  Bt-nevento,  898.  Reinstiites 
Becket,  408. 

John^  King  of  Jerusalem,  in  the  West,  t. 
801.  His  quarrel  with  Frederick  IT., 
808. 

Tohn,  Prince  of  Naples,  Ti.  619. 

John  of  Bohemia  invades  Italy,  vii.  118, 
145.    Slain  at  Crecy,  147. 

Joiai'iUf^  Seneschal  of  St.  Louis,  tI.  29. 

loUuttfj  of  Jerusalem,  marries  Frederick 
II.,  ▼.  802.    Her  death,  881. 


ITALT. 
/0IM,il.l91. 

Joppa  occupied  by  Frederick  U.,  t.  862. 

Joxeph.  Patriarch  of  Constantinople,  hit 
▼anity,  Tiii.  20.  His  reception  at  Fer- 
rara.  28.  Indignities  to,  80.  His 
death,  45 

Irflanft,  papal  grant  of  to  Henry  II.,  It. 
264.    Examination  of  Templan  in,  Ti 
468. 

Iren/Bus^  Bishop  of  Yienne,  appeases  strlfc 
about  Easter,  i.  66. 

Irene,  ii.  889.  Empress,  842.  Vvron 
imagp-worfhip,  842.  Summons  Coun- 
cil at  Nicea,  846.  Her  intrigues  against 
her  iion,  852.  Seizes  and  blind8  him, 
854. 

Irish  founders  of  monasteries,  ii.  246. 

.&7Rtn-Saule,  a  Saxon  idol,  destroyed  by 
Chnrlemsgne,  ii.  477. 

^on  age  of  Christianity,  iii.  164. 

Txnar  Angelus,  Eastern  emperor,  t.  92. 96. 

Isabella  of  England,  Empress,  t.  410. 

Isifinre  of  Peluslnm.  i.  248. 

Isidore  of  Rossano.viii.  75.  ■ 

Js/tp,  Simon.  Archbishop,  founds  Canter- 
bury HaU,  Til.  862. 

Italian  clergy  in  England,  t.  815,  G27. 
Popular  threats  against.  817. 

Italian  defenders  ^  Boniface  YIII.,  Ti. 
490. 

Italian  houses  of  Papal  origin.  Till.  487, 
488. 

Italian  language  at  Court  of  Frederick 
II.,  T.  894.    Of  Boccaccio,  TiU.  848. 

Italian  nobles,  lawlesitness  of,  iii.  86. 

Italian  politics,  Tii.  71.  (Time  of  Nicolas 
v.),  Tiii.  106. 

Italian  prelatMj  iii.  170.  DecUoe  of  their 
power,  Tiii.  lil. 

Italian  schoolmen,  Tiii.  254. 

Italy  under  the  Ostrogoths,  {.  408 
InTaded  by  Lombards,  476;  ii.  89. 
Papal  policy  IktHl  to,  i.  477.  Mo- 
nasticiHm  in,  ii.  20.  Weakened  by 
Bysantine  conquest,  41.  OTerrnn  by 
Lombards,  74.  InTaded  by  Saracens, 
iii.  18.  State  of  (10th  century),  160. 
Southern  state  of  (11th  century),  276. 
Northern,  Tiolent  contests  in,  849. 
Climate  of,  fktal  to  German  popes, 
867.  Married  clergy  in,  878  State 
of,  at  accession  of  Innocent  III..  It. 
479.  Becomes  subject  to  papal  power. 
482.  Strife  in  cities  of,  t.  ^.  State 
of  (ISth  centurv),  804.  State  of  (time 
of  Urban  IV.),  tI.  84.  Wars  in,  tI. 
179.  Arrest  of  Templars  in  t1.  469. 
Aflkin  of  (time  of  Clement  V.),  512. 
State  of,  after  death  of  Henry  of  Lux- 
emburg, 524.  Defection  of  from  Louis 
of  BaTaria,  Tii.  lOR.  State  of  (time  of 
Urban  V.).  211.  214  :  (Gregnrv  XI.), 
219.  Antipapal  league  in,  221.  State 
of  in    papal  schism,  267.     Stata  of 


538 


INDEX. 


irmtftiiET. 

(Marttn  V.),  626.  Great  hoaKs  of. 
Till.  178.  StaUsB  of,  UDder  princes,  487 

"  rtinerarj/  of  the  soul  to  Ood."  viii.  274. 

JuinUt  (aJd.  laOO),  Ti.  284.  Pilgrims  to, 
285.  Kvery  fiftieth  y«ar,  Tii.  189, 156. 
Its  cflebmtioo,  185.  Irregular,  pro- 
claimed bv  Urban  VI.,  262.  Held  bj 
Bouitace  IX.,  278.  Numerous  atceud- 
anre  at  (a.d.  1450),  vlii.  108. 

JudaLm,  iu  hold  at  Kome,  i.  60,  68. 
Displnved  In  the  Clementina,  61. 

Jitd^mtktj  LoMt,  Golias  on,  Tiii.  330. 

Judith^  set'ond  wife  of  Louis  the  Pious,  U. 
626.  Accused  of  adultery,  532.  Com- 
pelled to  become  a  nun,  585.  Declared 
iuuocenc,  536.  A  prisoner,  541.  Ke- 
stored  to  her  huftband,  546.  Kecon- 
ciie^i  LouiJt  to  Lotuair,  548.  ^ 

JultaUy  Emperor,  i.  107. 

JuUaHuSf  Bishop  of  JicUuia,  founder  of 
Semi-PeUgiaMiam,  i.  185.     His  history 

—  deposed  by  Pope  Zosimus,  185, 186. 
Bxile  and  persecution  of,  187.  lAst 
years  and  death,  188. 

Julius  I..  Pope,  i.  100. 101. 

Jurupruflenct^  Curistian,  i.  479,  481. 

Jurisprudence y  Eccleaiaiitical,  1  542. 

JustiHj  £mp«ror,  his  ignorance,  i.  4Sllk 
Adheres  to  Ohaloedonian  council  -^ 
closes  the  forty  years'  schism,  480. 
PerMcutes  Aiians,  440. 

Jttaliu  II.,  supersedes  Narses,  i.  475. 

Justinian^  revives  greatness  of  Rome,  1. 
449.  Character  of — subservienoe  to 
Empress  Theodora,  450.  IVars,  462. 
His  conquest  of  Africa.  458.  Inter- 
course with  lUly,  457,  459.  His  con- 
queitt  of  Italy,  461.  His  theological 
interference,  465.  Disputes  with  Pope 
Vigilius,  46<-470.  Buildings  of,  viii. 
418. 

Justinian's  code,  i.  488 ;  viii.  420.  Was 
ChriKtiati,  i.  485.    Asserts  orthodoxy 

—  regulattous  for  cloivy,  485.  Bishops, 
487.    Monnsterien,  488. 

Justinian's  Institutes,  purely  llomao,  i. 
489.  Silence  about  Christianity,  490. 
Ou  Slaver^,  491.  Ou  Parental  l*ower, 
495,  504.  On  Marriage,  496.  On  Con- 
cubiunge,  503.  lufkuticiJe,  505.  Her- 
esy, 512. 

Justinian  II.,  Etuperor,  deposed,  ii.  289  ; 
and  restored,  290. 

Justinian,  uepauw  of  Justin,  assassinates 
Vitalianus,  i.  431. 

JuvenaiiSy  Bisaop  uf  Jerusatom,  i.  231. 


Kameely  Sultan  of  E«\  pt,  negotiates  with 
Fx«deriol(  li..  t.  334.  His  policy  in 
Syria,  363.    His  treaty  with  Fredeitel^, 


Lv:focrs. 

KentpiSj  i,  Thomns.  viii.  297 
Khaled.  his  victory  over  ...< 

151, 162. 
KAoosroo,  King  of  Persia,  n^ts  l»laiii> 

ism,  ii.  146,  146.    IVfeated  by  Hemo- 

lius,  147. 
Kings  in  Western  Burop^  beooma  roonka, 

ii.  407. 
Kirkshot,  ii.  238. 
Kiss  of  peace,  iv.  395. 
Knightkoo'L  Iv.  56.    Religiottd  cermM>> 

Dies  of,  67. 
Knight*,  the  fbnr.  of  Henry  n..  Iv.  413. 

Their  altercation    with    Beeket,    «i3. 

Murder  him.  416.    Their  fate,  41 S. 
Koran,  doubts  of  its  autaeuticit.,  li.  121 

Becomes  intolerant  to  .*«*wi«,  131.    <*a»u- 

mands  war  agaiusi  uubeiieveoa,   1^ 

( See  Mnh^mme  lxni'>ni.) 
KoreisAites,  the  tribe  of  .Vlohamnmi,  1. 

126.     Penecule  hint.  127. 


h. 


Ladislaus^  King  of  Naples,  hi*  puiicy  at 
Rome,  Tii.  298.  IWpulwl  f  ^oni  Kohm, 
296.  Second  attaiupt,  2J9.  U>a  iflila- 
enoe  over  Qnfgnrx  XTT..  3*10.  In  R<«Da, 
801.  Protects  GMgur.t  X: I.,  3^5.  Oiv 
cupies  Rome.  827.  IX'>|i*^lP'i  nt  ISiwra 
Seoca,  384.  Ui^  tnstt.  >vtt.A  «uin 
XXIIL,  336.  PluHlffn  iltiiur,  388. 
His  death,  344. 

Lambert^  Duka  of  Spoietn,  plualcn 
Kome,  iii.  87.  Assists  ^tni.t  Vlil., 
against  Naples,  88.  His  violenr*  lo 
the  Pope,  91. 

Lambert^  Mm  of  Guido,  claims  kiaipfloiB 
ofItaly,Ui.  107, 106. 

Lambert^  Duke  of  TuKany,  ill.  148. 
SeiKd  and  blinded  by  Uugu  of  Prov- 
ence, 168. 

Lambert  of  Hertifield,  vlii.  838. 

Landowners,  ecclesbistical,  viii.  148. 

Lanjranc  opposes  Bentugar,  iii.  265.  At 
Bee,  iv.  a».  Made  Primate  of  Boc- 
huid,  301.    His  death,  808. 

Langland,  supposed  author  i>f  Plan 
Ploughman's  Visio  i,  vili.  S78. 

Langton,  Simon.  Archbishop  oMf  York.  ▼. 
54. 

L/ington,  Stephen,  made  Archbishop  of 
Canterbury  by  Pope,  v.  25.  lligectod 
by  King  John,  26.  Heads  Barons* 
party,  48.  liesists  Papal  Legate,  46. 
His  conduct  in  conteMt  with  Baroos, 
50.  At  Rome,  65.  Supports  Dooita- 
leans.  250. 

Languages,  new,  £tvor  religious  uK>va> 
ment,  v.  235.  MoL-riu  viti  83'».  4tfS. 
Kaislish.  836.  Ititiut.  339.  ltoiua.Mt 
and  Teutonic.  8d0. 

Langut  d'Oil,  viii.  3-34. 


INDEX. 


689 


LAHOVUMMI. 

LumguedMy  h«reAicii  in,  t.  161.  Mftn- 
nera  of,  168.    State  of,  164. 

LajtzoofMilun,  iii.  810. 

iMpsiy  contrvver«y  about  at  Carthage,  1. 
(0.  At  Rome,  83.  Spaniah  Bfohopa 
among  the.  90. 

Lateran  OounHt  (Seennd),  ill.  297.  Set- 
tles Pap&l  «lectio.ii),  29d.  Condemns 
Berengarof  Toun,  300.  (Third),  ncene 
at,  434  ;  ir.  146.  Under  lunoovnt  II., 
1T6.  Decrees  of,  177.  Condeinn>i  Ar- 
nold of  Br»4cia,  *23<5.  ( l^ourtu),  ▼.  211. 
Secret  hlstorj  of.  212. 

Latin  Caristondom,  chorehes  in,  viii. 
410. 

Latin  ChriscianUy  compared  with  Qreek, 
i.  25,  28.  Iti«  mil  in  controTpny,  ttiat 
of  gnMM  and  free-will,  27.  Its  Imperial 
character,  28.  Its  centra  the  Roman 
Pontificate,  41.  Unit*-  of  its  history, 
42.  Epocris  in  it*  history,  42.  47. 
Arose  in  Airioa.  66-  TertullLin,  its 
first  great  writer,  57.  Cyprian,  its 
parent,  81.  UniCj  of,  gradually  estab- 
lished. 87.  Its  dominion  nroee  away 
from  Home,  123.  ^Va-t  anti-Pelagiau  — 
Hs  tendency  to  pre«lestinarlaniRro,  171 ; 
»nd  to  sacerdotaliMm,  172.  Indifferent 
to  Bsstem  disputen,  200.  Its  thrra 
neat  Fathers  —  its  two  first  foundeni, 
§09.  Germany  converted  to,  U.  260. 
M  Constantinople,  ▼.  105.  Wcaliness 
«f,  280.    Culminates,  Till.  99.    It*  ap- 

rointed  work,  100.  Learned  age  of, 
i5.  Its  strength  and  vitality,  183. 
Inflaenoe  of,  in  France,  851.  Secession 
from,  486.  Authority  of  weakened, 
497.  Its  enduring  power,  488,  499. 
Its  strength  and  weakness,  600.  Its 
intolerance  —  objectirenees  of,  501, 602. 
Tendencies  of,  508. 

LmUn  OliurRti,  sepur.iiion  of  from  Qreek, 
i.  97.  In  Constantinople,  T.  121. 
JealouEMes  in,  122. 

Latin  Kmpire.     Srr  HSmpire. 

Latin  binguagi*,  prfvaleuce  of  in  Weettern 
Church,  i.  2r,  547.  U.<^  of  in  the 
Church,  iii.  124.  Uuivunil  langu:iK<N 
Tiii.  160.  Maintiined  by  Christianity, 
282.  lias  diM;h.irguil  its  mission,  834. 
Late,  barbarism  of,  843.  Religious 
terms  in,  831.    DiiiUM  of,  493. 

Latin  monastioism,  energy  of,  i.  25. 

Latin  race  rettius  its  hold  on  Church, 
i.  856.  Nations  descended  from,  vili. 
499,500. 

Laurentius^  rival  of  Symmaehns  for 
Papaov,  i.  850.  Rejected  by  Theod- 
orio,  417.  Excites  tumults  at  Rome, 
419. 

LoMtrentius,  Bishop,  sncceeds  Augustine 
at  Caatorbury,  ii.  185. 

Lavaur,  capture  of — cruelties  on  the 
«Mkptivei,  V.  208. 


ISO. 

Law,  three  svstems  of.  i.  488.  Supreme 
ey  of,  T.  883. 

Laws  of  Thpoioric  and  Athnl-iric,  i.  515. 
Ostrogothic,  516.  l>ouibani,517.  Bur- 
gnndian  and  Yjjdj^th.  518.  Salic,  519. 
Against  heretics,  v.  3"^. 

Latcyers,  French,  v.  241.  807-  Bhsed 
againsiC  Templars,  478- 

LfetTH  in^  becooies  iadepcnden  t  of  Church, 
viii.  491.  ^ 

Lebuin  preacher  to  the  {^nxonn,  ii.  475. 

Legfites,  preacQers  of  crusiide,  ii .  427.  At 
Be^an^on.  iv.  276.  Of  Alexander  III., 
Becke(*s  appeNrauce  before,  31*9.  Meet 
Henry  IT.,  880.  Their  inhiintinn  against 
Becket,  3dl.  In  Geruuiuy.  515-  fhdr 
conte«t  with  Pr«i>enrRl  hcn'.»v.  y.  168. 
Tbeir  dMuiandK  ou  «'ount  lUymond. 
197.  In  En!.')  ind.  813.  316.  He  ireful 
character  of,  viii.  loZ. 

Legacies  to  t'le  flomnn  Ohnrrh.  i.  118. 

legends,  growcu  ul',  aud  importance,  11. 
90.  Were  not  mere  friud.<«.  103.  Of 
Sriiuts,  viii.  21d.  Popular.  L<atiuisiid, 
805.     Reprpwnitetl  in  «««rinn.  816. 

Le^nanOy  bntttv  of,  iv.  -kSi. 

Lfieester^  \FyclifllMin  at.  vil.  406. 

Leo  I.,  Pope,  tue  Great,  iiis  prearhintf,  i. 
56.  His  pontific'ite  Hnd  pt>ntne«s,  2d8. 
Uis  e^rly  distiiK'tiau  aiid  election,  256. 
Preaches  on  Roman  stipTvuincy,  256. 
Chariicter  of  hi«  sermons,  258.  De- 
nounces M'tnicho:uis.  259.  IIi»  contest 
with  Hilarius,  Bisuop  of  Aries,  273. 
His  letter  to  Bi<«hop^  of  Vienne.  274. 
Uis  iiutiiorit/  upheld  by  Valentinian 
ITT..  275.  .Appealed  to  In  Katychian 
question,  285.  IIIb  letter  to  Flaviauus 
agninst  Eutyches.  288.  Rejects  ran- 
tenoe  of  Bpiie^tLin  Synod,  291.  His 
letter  read  at  (^halcedon,  293.  His 
udulation  of  KarfCern  Kuiperont  —  am- 
hai«Aidor  to  Attila.  296.  299.  Success 
of  hin  eailiA'tsy,  801.  Ooe8  to  meet 
Oenseric,  3l>4.     IIIn  death.  809. 

Leo  II.,  ii.  1«7. 

Ltn  III.,  ii.  454.  Attempt  to  mntihito  — 
nid  vUit  to  Ch  .riuuiagne,  455,  456. 
CleHRt  himself  of  charfzeii.  4^.  Crowns 
Chitrliunagne  emperor,  458.  Hid  alli- 
ance with  rhnrlenia^ne.  461.  His  mag- 
nifli-eure,  512.  ilio  danger  from  insur- 
rection, 518.     His  death,  518. 

Lro  IT.,  iii.  18.  Strengthens  Roman  for- 
tifications, 20. 

Uo  v..  iii.  155. 

J>o  VIII..  made  Pope  by  OthoI..iii.l88. 
Die!(,  185. 

Leo  IX.  (Bruno),  Bithop  of  Toul  — hii 
pietv,  iii.  21J.  \i\»  pilgrimage  tu  ilome, 
241.*  Hiit  election  and  reforms,  243, 
244.  Visitation  beyond  the  Alps,  247. 
His  vitioos.  249.  Vi.iits  Fntnce,  249. 
Consecrates  St.  lUsml's  church,  holdi 


640 


INDEX. 


LSO. 

eonndl  of  Rhelnu,  250, 261 .  At  Mente, 
266.  Heturns  to  Rome,  266.  Holds 
council  at  Veroelli,  266.  Second  tnuw- 
alpioe  joaru«y,  268.  At  Tool,  209. 
Hi«  third  jonmey .  271.  Hi^  mediation 
In  Httu^riau  war  rfJectetL278.  Meets 
Henry  III.  at  WonnR,  2i8  Marehas 
against  Normans,  276.  Letter  to  Bast> 
em  Bmperor,  277.  Defeated,  280.  His 
deteution  and  penance,  280,  281.  His 
return  to  Rome,  281.  Death  and  sanc- 
tity, 288. 

Leo  the  Thracian.  Emperor,  i.  820. 

Leo  the  InauriaUj  early  liistory  of.  il.  806. 
Sares  Constantinople — persecutes  Jvwg 
and  herecicrf,  8U6.  Bdiots  of  against 
image-wor8hip,  806,  809.  Suppresses 
tumult,  810  iluDisted  by  Pope  and 
clergy,  811-  Hin  measures  against 
Gregory  II.,  382.  BxpediUon  to  Italy 
—  whipwivcked.  884. 

Leo  IV.,  EmpcTor,  ii.  840,  841. 

Leo  the  Armenian,  hix  Tictories,  ii.  866. 
Proscribes  image-worship,  867.  Mur- 
dered by  oonHpiratorw,  8w. 

Leoiiegv^  (St.  Leger,)  Bishop  of  Auton, 
U.  S»4.    His  death.  897. 

Xcoa,  aOars  of,  t.  62.  Threatened  with 
interdict,  68. 

LeoHtH*  city,  ill.  20:  tUL  127. 

Ltopold.  Imperial  Arehbishop  of  Menti, 
W.  618. 

Uopold  of  Austria,  tU.  88.  His  death, 
87. 

Leovigild,  Arlan  King  of  Spain,  il.  66. 

Lepan,  battle  of.  tU.  668. 

Ltptr*^  persecution  of,  vii.  66. 

Letterx,  revival  of,  riii.  488,  490. 

Liberius^  Pope,  his  contest  with  Constan- 
tiufl,  1. 102.  Kb  exile,  104.  Beitorsd, 
106.    Tumults  at  his  death,  106. 

Ubrary,  Vatican,  tUI.  128, 127. 

Lies,  Field  of,  il.  640. 

Limousin  Cardinals,  tU.  281. 

Lincoln,  battle  of,  t.  818.  Parliament 
of,  Ti.  296. 

Ltnifu/tini«,  bishopric  of.  founded,  Ii.  191. 

Literature,  Christian,  ^11.  288. 

Liutpold,  Archbishop  of  Ments,  ill.  274. 
Insults  Leo  IX.,  2i6. 

Liutprand,  King  of  Lombards,  II.  874. 
Takes  RaTcona,  876.  Marches  to  Rome, 
879.  Quarrels  with  Oregoty  III.,  886. 
His  intenriew  with  Pope  Zaeharias,  404. 
Grants  peace,  406.  Attacks  the  Kzar- 
chate,  406.  Abandons  his  conquests, 
407.    His  death.  409. 

LtutprandAH.  166.  Attends  Otho  I.  to 
Rome,  w2,  AmbasBMior  at  Oonstantl- 
nople,  186. 

Lok,  identifled  with  Satan,  Till.  196. 

LoUards,  Til .  404.    Their  petition  to  Par- 
liament,  407.     Statute  against^  411 
MaaauiM  of  Henry  Y.  against,  ' 


LDUXS. 

Lombard  laws,  I.  617,  687.  Laaffot,  t. 
804,  807.  RepubUea,  406.  Aiehitaci- 
nre,  Till.  482. 

Lombards  Invade  Italy,  i.  472;  Ii.  8B. 
Their  barbarltr  and  Aiianism,  40. 
Their  ferocity,  74.  Oremm  Italy,  7b. 
Converted  fimn  Arlanism,  79.  Po^»er> 
lul  kingdom  of,  874.  Detested  I7 
Popes,  876.  Their  disunion,  40^.  Rise 
against  Frederick  Barbaroeaa,  iv.  481. 
<Hln  victory  at  Legnano,  488.  INa«t- 
isfled  with  truce  of  Veniee^4S4.  Blake 
treaty  of  Constance,  489.  Wan  of  with 
Fraderick  II..  v.  826.  SapporC  Kiiif 
Henry's  rebellion.  410.  Defeated  at 
Corte  Nuova,  418. 

Lombard f,  Iron  Crown  at,  lii.  807;  vL 
616.  Padfloatlon  of  by  Qngorj  X., 
126.    Churches  of,  viii.  42L 

LomeniSf  Yisoount,  proeeas  agiinat  te 
wealth  of  Clement  V..  vU.  61. 

London,  bishopric  of,  li.  186,  196.  Ad- 
heres to  barons'  party — eitlaeoi  ot, 
excommunicated,  t.  66.  Populace  of 
supports  Wyclilfe,  vii.  881.  LoUanliam 
of,^. 

Lorta,  Roger,  his  naval  victory  oiver  An- 
gevines.  vi.  170.  Revolts  against  Frad- 
erick or  Arragon,  220.  Alibied  coavcr- 
sation  with  Bonifkee  TIU.,  496. 

Lothair,  Bmperor,  111.  16. 

Lothair,  King  of  italv,  U.  626.  At  Rone, 
628,  690.  Asserts  Imnerial  svpremacr, 
681.  His  rebellion,  686. 640.  Emperw, 
ill.  16.    Picture  of  his  homage,  iv.  276. 

Lothair  II.,  King  of  Lonraine,  Ul.  44. 
Divorces  his  queen  Thentberga.  45. 
Marries  Waldnida,  46.  His  subiulMion 
to  Nicolas  I.,  60.  CompeUcd  to  ivlii- 
state  Theutberga,  68.  At  itome,  68. 
His  death,  69. 

Lotbair.  son  of  Hugh  of  Provence  —  King 
of  Italy  ~  his  death.  111.  174.  # 

Lothair  the  Saxon,  Emperor,  iv.  168. 
Supports  Innocent  II.,  164.  Conducts 
him  to  Rome.  172.  Crowned  at  Rome, 
178.  Returns  to  Oennany,  17B.  Con- 
quers South  Italy,  174. 

Louis  the  Pious,  his  monkish  tastes.  11. 
614.  His  first  measures,  616-  Holds 
Diets  at  Alx-la-ChapeUe,  617. 690.  His 
church  laws,  690.  Settles  tne  unr- 
oession,  622  Puts  down  rebellion  of 
Bembard,  626.  Mairies  Judith,  826. 
His  penance,  627.  Decay  of  his  power, 
681.  His  sons'  rebelUon.  634.  Revo- 
lution  in  his  (kvor,  685.  His  none' 
second  rebellion,  640.  Deserted  by  his 
army,  641.  A  prisoner — hto  penanee, 
642.  Reaction  iu  his  Ikvor,  646.  Rec- 
onciled to  Lothair  —  <Uvides  the  empire 
between  lx>thair  and  Charles  (the  Bald), 
648.    His  death.  649. 

Lonis  II.,  Emperor ~ at   Rome — < 


Index. 


541 


I.0UI8. 

ftwed  by  NIeohui  T..  HI.  48.  His  claim 
to  crown  of  Lormiue,  70.  lit  f  apported 
by  Hadrian  IT.,  71.    Hln  drnth,  82. 

Louis  tbo  Statu  inervr.  King  of  Franoei 
Ui.  92. 

Louis  the  Fat,  of  France,  complains 
agninst  Henry  I.  of  England,  iT.  184. 
Pi*uttKrts  Innocent  II.,  168. 

Louis  VII.,  of  France  (the  Tonng).  m- 
Buuiefl  the  Cross,  ir.  261.  Reeeires 
Pope  Alexander  III.,  296.  His  hontili- 
ty  to  Henry  II.,  864.  At  meeting  near 
6iM>ni.  379.  At  Montmirall,  884.  His 
war  with  lienry  II.,  886 

Louis  Vm.,  of  Ihanoe,  his  claim  to  Eng- 
lish crown,  T.  66.  His  crusade  in 
lAngnedoc,  210.  His  second  crusade 
fiUU,  222.  Overmns  Languedoo — Ills 
death.  228.  Deserted  by  English  parti- 
sans, 812. 

Louis  IX.  (St.  Louis),  bis  treaty  with 
Kaymond  of  Toulouse,  t.  228.  His 
answer  to  Gregory  IX.,  486.  Obtains 
release  of  prelates  from  Emperor,  464, 
466.  His  cold  reception  of  Innocent 
IV.,  467.  Attempts  to  mediate  with 
Pope,  488.  His  minority,  ▼!.  16.  His 
austerities.  18.  Anecdotes  of.  19.  His 
Tirtues,  21 '.  His  impartiality  in  Church 
matters,  22.  Determines  on  a  crusade, 
28.  In  Cyprus.  26.  At  Damietta,  26. 
His  defeat  and  captirity,  26.  His  re- 
lease, 29.  Appeals  to  Henry  III.  of 
England  Ibr  aid,  80.  Deserted  by  his 
brothers  —  returns  to  Europe,  80. 
Compared  with  Emperor  Frederick  II., 
81,  88.  Escapes  being  a  persecutor, 
82, 87.  As  a  lawgiTer,  88.  On  offimces 
of  cleigy,  89.  J^oacts  Pragmatic  Sanc- 
tion, ^,  119.  Refuses  crown  of  Na- 
ples, 84.    His  death,  122. 

Louis  le  Hutin,  King  of  Fiance,  death  of. 
Til.  22. 

Louis  of  BaTaria.  son  of  Louis  the  Pious, 
ii.  628.  His  rebeUion,  640.  Excluded 
from  share  of  empire,  648.  Unites  with 
Charles  the  Bald,  Ui .  78.    His  death,  88. 

Louis  of  BaTaria,  Tii.  68.  His  Tictory  at 
Muhldorf,  76.  Papal  process  against, 
76.  His  apology,  77.  Excommuni- 
cated, 79.  His  treaty  with  Frederick 
of  Austria,  86, 86.  Holds  Diet  of  Spires 
as  Emperor  —  meditates  descent  on 
Italy,  87. 88.  His  war  of  writings  with 
John  XXII.,  89.  Declares  the  Pope  a 
heretic,  94.  Enters  Italy — crowned 
at  Milan  —  bis  quarrel  with  Oaleaan 
VIsconti,  96.  Enters  Rome,  98.  His 
coronation,  99.  Declares  John  XXII. 
deposed,  101.  Makes  Antipope.  106. 
LeaTes  Rome,  106.  Death  of  his  ad- 
herents— seises  Pisa,  106.  Defection 
of  his  followers,  109i  Sedu  i«coneilla- 
tion  with  Pope,  112.    Negotiates  with 


VAKFEXO. 

Benedict  XII.,  128.  His  anxiety  for 
absolution,  128.  Seeks  alliance  with 
Philip  of  Yalols.  126.  Meeting  with 
Edward  lU.,  180.  Appoints  Edward 
imperial  Ticar,  180.  His  weakness  and 
Ibar  of  the  Pope,  181.  Excommuni- 
cated by  Clement  VI.,  189.  His  tbcII- 
lation,  140.  Accepts  terms,  141.  De- 
serted by  Ctorman  electors,  146.  His 
death,  147. 

LouiSj  son  of  Lothair,  in  Rome,  ill.  17. 

Louis  of  I*roTence  crowned  Emperor,  ill. 
166.  Taken  by  Berengar  and  blinded, 
157. 

Louis  irf  AqJou,  adopted  by  Joanna  of 
Naples,  Tii.  262.  luTadcs  Naples,  2B2. 
His  death,  266. 

Louis  of  Ai^u,  King  of  Sicily,  assists 
escape  of  Benedict  XIII.,  tU.  288. 
Reduces  Rome,  827.  His  Tictory  at 
Rocca  Secea,  884.  Returns  to  France, 
884. 

Low  Countries,  painters  of.  Till.  486. 

Luei/er,  faU  of.  Till.  199. 

Lueius  II.,  Pope,  It.  242.  Attacks  Rome, 
is  kUled,  248. 

Lucius  ni..  Pope,  ir.  489.  His  death, 
440. 

Luna,  sacked  by  Northmen,  ill.  188, 
184. 

Luperealiay  continuance  of,  i.  814. 

Luxemburg^  Henry  of.  See  Henzy  of 
Luxemburg. 

tuxeuilf  monastery  at^.  289. 

Luxury  of  clergy.  It.  228. 

Lyons^  Pope  Innocent  IT.  at,  t.  467. 
Council  of,  478.  Declares  Emperor 
Frederick  II.  deposed,  479.  Second 
Council  of.  Ti  m.  Regulates  Papal 
elections,  181.  Papal  coronation  at, 
876.  Annexed  by  Philip  the  Fair,  626. 
ConclaTe  at,  Tii.  18. 

Lyons f  Poor  Men  ot.    See  Poor  Man. 


MacedoniuSf  Bishop  of  Constantinople, 
1.  884.  His  haughtiness  to  Emperor 
Anastaslus,  888.  Deposed  and  ban- 
ished, 889. 

Magic  charnd  against  BonllhM  Till.. 
Ti.499.    'Mais  for.  Til.  24. 

Magna  Charta,  t.  60.  Condemned  by 
Innocent  III.,51. 

"  Magna  Moralia."  by  Gregory  the 
Great,  11.  49.  ExtensiTe  aceeptatioo 
of,  61. 

Magyars  in  Hungary,  Hi.  160. 

Majorian,  his  efforts  to  restoiv  Rome,  i. 
808.    GasfUl,809. 

Maiebranea.  Cardinal,  tI.  188. 

Manasseh^  Archbishop  of  Aries,  HI.  172L 

Manfred^  son  of  Frederick   II.,  t.  60 


6j& 


INDEX. 


MAmoaiAiit. 

MainUini  kingdom  of  Naples  for  Con- 

'  nd)  610.  Aasame^  regency  of  Naplee, 
518.  HiNdiiwimula'ion,6t9.  Uto  ntoU 
and  flij{lic,  621.  ilU  victory.  621.  Gains 
Sicily  and  N-iple^,  ri.  41.  U  inade 
King,  50.  ilid  putTtir,  83.  AdTances 
on  Kome,  89.  Hin  defrat  and  death  at 
Beneveiito,  98. 

McMtehetMS^  their  obnoxious  doctrinee — 
condemned  by  Leo  the  Qreat,  i.  260; 
and  by  Valontinlan  TIL,  261.  In 
twelfth  century,  ▼.  141.  Persecution 
of,  1«). 

ilnnicJieisifiy  ▼.  160.  Iti  vitality,  166. 
In  the  West,  1^.  Survives  penecu- 
tioii,228. 

Mantya,  ikinncll  of,  iii.  841. 

Manuel^  £iuperor  of  Constantinople,  ln> 
trigues  in  lUly,  iv.  432. 

Marcella^  follower  of  Jerome,  i.  116. 
Her  sufferings  at  the  taking  of  Rome, 
168. 

Jfizrcrltiniw,  his  apostasy  fitbalons,  i.  91. 

MarctUinui  St.,  Cardinal,  Papal  legate  in 
France,  vi.  835.  His  failure  and  re- 
turn  to  Rome,  840. 

MareetliUy  legend  about,  i.  92. 

Mftreia^  Chrixtian  concubine  of  Com- 
mntlus,  i.  67. 

Mnreian  marries  Pulcheria,  i.  290.  Suc- 
ceeds her  in  the  Bniplre,  295.     Dies, 


Marigni^  Philip  de.  Archbishop  of  Sens, 
vi.  444.  His  summary  proceedings 
agiin«t  Templan.  446. 

Mnrgufriie  de  la  PoroCte,  ri.  63t. 

ifar/Niw,  Pope,  Hi.  101. 

Uatrk,  St..  church  of,  at  Venice,  ir.  436  ; 
viii.  421. 

Mark  of  Ephe«us,  vlii.  89,  48.  Resists 
union  of  Churches.  44. 

Markwald  of  Anwviler,  Iv.  479.  Strip- 
ped of  power  by  Innocent  III.,  481. 
His  intriguPM  In  Sirily,  486.  Hb  hoU 
low  reconcilktioB  with  Pope,  489.  Ex- 
communicated —  paiiM's  into  Sicily, 
489.  Defeated  bv  Papal  troops,  490. 
HU  league  with  Walter  the  ChauceUor, 
492. 

Harosf'a,  daughter  of  Theodora,  her 
Tices  and  power  at  Rome.  ill.  168.  Her 
conteHt  with  Pope  John  X. — manias 
Onldo,  Duke  of  Tus>cany,  164.  De- 
stroys Pope  John,  166.  Raines  her 
son,  John  XI.,  16ii .  Marries  Hugh  of 
Provence,  167. 

^funiage  of  clergy.     See  Clergy. 

Marriage ^   law    of,  Justinian's,   i.   496 
Treated  as  a  civil  eontnct— early  Bo- 
man  lav  of,  496.    Prohibited  degnea 
of,   497.     Prohibited  with   Infamoas 
persona,  499. 

MarsiUo  of  Padua,  his  book  "The  De- 
fender of  Peace,*'  vjl.  89.    His  deflni- 


T. 


tlon  of  the  Charcb.  90.  Rejects  Fa- 
pal  pretensions,  92.  CouoeiUor  of 
Louis  of  Bavaria.  140 

Martin  I.,  Pope.  ii.  276.  Condemns  Sfo- 
nothelitlsm.  277.  Arrested  by  order  of 
Con»teus,  279.  Taken  to  Constanti- 
nople—  cruel  treatini^nt  of —  Impria- 
ouuient.  279 ;  and  deata,  2ij0. 

Martin  IV.,  his  olection.  vi.  143.  His 
ii»e:wures  in  French  Interest.  144. 
Proclahn»  rrnwide  spdnst  Sicily,  169. 
ProhlbiU  cotub.it  at  Bordeaux.  166. 
His  exertions  a«iiln«t  Peter  of  Arr%- 
ron,  16G.  \M.    lii«  death,  171. 

Martin  V.  (Otto  Colonna),  his  election  at 
Conttta-ice,  vU.  613.  His  first  act.  616. 
His  address.  620.  Granto  separate 
concordats,  620.  Uis  departure  fh^m 
Constance,  623.  At  Florence,  615. 
Generosity  to  rival  Popes.  626.  Uis 
poTRrty,  627.  In  Rome,  629.  Strengttar 
ens  himself  in  Itely.  629.  Condeuna 
Statute  of  Pnemuaire,  681.  Saos- 
mons  council  at  Pavia,  634.  Pro- 
rogues It  to  Sienna.  686;  to  Baale^ 
dies,  686. 

Martin^  Cistercian  Abbot,  preaehce 
Bjule,  T.  86. 

Martin,  St.,  vill  218. 

Martin^  Pope's  Nuudo  in 
470. 

Martina.,  Empress,  banished,  U.  278. 

Martyrologifs,  the  ancient  Pifmm 
trustworthy,  i.  47. 

Martyrs,  Fraticlsran,  t.  968. 

Masses,  tIU.  166.    Sale  of,  181.  SM. 

*'  Master  of  Hungary,*'  the.  tI. 
leader  of  Shepherd  insurgsuta. 
In  Paris.  69.    SUtln  at  Bonigee,  68. 

MatiUlay  her  war  with  Stephen,  iv 
806. 

MatUfJa,  Cokintess  of  Toaeany,  a  sq»- 

G>rtef  of  Pope  Gragory  VII..  tti.  4St 
er  interoesaioa  for  Henir  IV.,  466. 
Her  territories  wasted  bj  Henrv  IV.. 
490.  VUiU  Rome,  600.  Oontln 
firm  to  Papal  partv.  611 
Guelf  of  Bayaria,  612.  Her  war  with 
Henry  IV..  618.  Diasen^n  with  her 
husband,  621.  Swean  allegiance  lo 
Henry  V..  iv.  96.    Her  de^th.  116. 

Matrimonial  que»tfc>us,  iU.  44. 

Matthew  Paris  againsi  Franrisrans.  t.  274. 

Maurice,  Emperor,  lettrra  of  Ofegory 
the  Great  to,  U.  71.  81.  Jealous  of 
Pope,  78,  84.  His  law  aboat  monaa- 
tics.  81.  Deposed  by  Phoems,  tt. 
Murdered,  86. 

Maur,  St.,  disciple  of  Beoediet,  U.  ». 
Founds  oenTeats  in  France,  86. 

Maximian^  Bishop  of  ronstantiaopla,  a 
partisan  of  Cyril.  I.  246. 

Maximin,  persecution  by,  ends  dlieot4 
in  the  Chnreh.  i.  80. 


INDEX. 


548 


Marimus  pa  to  to  drnth  Prineillian,  i. 
276.  AsitaMinatea  Valentiniaa  —  mar- 
rie«  KudoxU.  903.    SI  .in,  8)4. 

Maximus.  a  monk,  oppo-sea  Monothellt- 
isra,  il.  274.  His  cruel  treatment  by 
Coii8tan«,  281. 

M'cea.  Sanctity  of,  li.  126.  Moham- 
med's flight  from.  128.  Taken  bv 
Moh  imnu>d,  182.  Becomes  his  capital, 
13  i. 

Afrr/(>ca/ art  closed  with  Nicolas  Y.^tUI. 
48f5. 

Mrdical  influence,  viii.  135. 

Medici,  Cosmo  de',  viii.  491. 

M^rfieine  introduced  among  Arabs,  rlii. 
248.  Its  connection  with  philosophy, 
244. 

Aieflina.  receiyes  Mohammed,  ii.  129. 

Me'rhiar/es^  Pope,  i.  94. 

Metchisedele^  example  of,  qnoted,  i.  848. 

3If'un,  Council  of,  .lecri'es  against  here- 
tics, T.  227. 

Mffnnon,  Bishop  of  Ephesu<«,  1.  231. 

Munoir.t,  French  origin  of,  Tiii.  859. 

AUnagfries  of  Emperor  Frederick  II.,  t. 
893. 

Mf  n  licant  Orders,  t.  238. 

Mendicants  hated  by  clergy,  Til.  821. 
In  England,  860.  In  nnirprsities  — 
Mttacked  by  Wyeliffe,  860.  Subsidies 
to.  ▼iil.  157.  Schoolmen,  255.  Piers 
Ploughman  on,  876.  Cultivate  art, 
479. 

Mfndicants.     £>«  Friars. 

M'Htz,  Archbishopric  of,  founded,  ii. 
254.    Double  election  to,  ir.  509. 

M^ntx^  Council  of,  iii.  256. 

Merovingian,  kings,  polygamy  of,  and  In- 
<*e4tuou!<  marriages,  i.  896. 

MertoH  College,  rii.  357>  Famous  mem- 
bers of,  857. 

Mussina  capitulates  to  insurgents,  ▼!. 
157.  Besieged  by  Charles  of  Anjoa, 
160. 

Mfiaphyfics  and  theology,  ir.  195:  viii. 

•  237. 

M'ihodius,  Oreek  missiionary,  iii.  117, 
123.  Archbishop  of  Moravia  —  at 
Home.  128. 

Mftrcpoiitan  Sees  under  Charlemagne,  ii. 
493. 

Miehafl  III.,  the  Drunkard,  Eastern  Em- 
peror, iii.  28.  His  correspondeiA'e 
with  Pope  Nicolas  I.,  80.  His  murder, 
34. 

Michael  the  Stammerer,  made  Emperor 
br  a  conspiracy,  ii.  859.  His  charac- 
ter, 38D. 

Middlesex,  church  property  in,  viii. 
152. 

Milan.  Council  of,  1.  102.  Archbishop- 
ric of,  ill.  806.  Dissensions  in,  810. 
Tumults  in,  817.  Church  of,  asserto 
right  of  nu&rriage,  815.     Insurrection 


MOHAiniBDARS. 

in  against  Herlembald.  848.  Disputed 
bishopric.  It.  117.  Secret  le:«gue  of 
with  Hadrian  lY.,  2S6.  Revolt  against 
Frederick  Barbaroasa,  293.  Fall  of, 
295.  Ruin  and  restomtion  of,  425, 426. 
Heads  Louibar  1  league,  v.  804.  Heni^ 
of  Luxemburg  crowned  in,  vi.  516. 
Insurrection  in,  516.  Claims  to  duke- 
dom of,  viii.  103,  104.  Catiiedral, 
445. 

JIfflo,  Papal  Legate,  imposes  penance  o  i 
Count  Raymond,  v.  182. 

MUton,  viii.  199. 

Mitiervty  siege  and  capture  of,  ▼.  196. 

Minnesingers^  viii.  871. 

Minor  Frian  of  St.  Francis,  v.  234. 

Miracles  of  St.  Benedict,  ii.  24.  Of  St. 
Dominic,  v.  248. 

Moadhin,  Sultan  of  Dnmascus,  v.  846 
His  rivalry  with  Sultan  Ka  .  eel,  858. 

Modern  languages,  viii.  493. 

Mohammed,  his  etiaracter  and  plans  • 
problem,  ii.  119.  Ilix  early  life,  122. 
His  call  to  prophecy,  128.  Ills  visiouf , 
124.  Divine  mission,  125.  Slow  prog- 
ress. 124.  Is  persecuted,  127.  His 
flight  (Ile^ra) — received  at  Medina, 
128.  iUs  advances  to  the  Jews,  180. 
His  war  with  the  .lews  —  conquers 
Mecca,  181.  Unites  Arabia,  138.  His 
growing  intolerance,  184.  To  Jews, 
185.  To  Christians  185.  His  imper- 
fect knowledge  of  Judaism  and  (*!)ris- 
tianlty,  186.  Contemplates  vast  con- 
quests—  hb  letters  to  king«,  144,  145. 
His  war  with  Romans,  147.  His  ill- 
ness and  death,  149. 

MofjuimmeUanism^  appearance  of.  ii.  108. 
Energy  of,  114.  I  to  monot*)eism  — 
similarity  to  Judaism,  115.  I  to  (hn- 
ciful  teueto,  116.      Was  not  original, 

116.  Borrowed  fh>m  Jewish  legends, 

117.  Its  four  precepto:  Preyer,  Alms- 
giving, Fasting,  Pilgrimage,  118.  Ito 
articles  of  faith,  119.  Progress  of.  181. 
Recognises  slavery  and  polygamy,  140. 
Ito  war  Rgainsr  mankind,  141.  De- 
maiids  convention  or  tribute,  144.  Ito 
energy  greater  than  that  of  Christian- 
ity, 154.  Aggressive.  Iv.  fiO.  Averse 
to  philosophy,  viii.  242. 

Mohammedans  not  disunited  on  the 
Prophet's  death,  ii    150.     Their  con- 

Juest  of  Syria,  168.  Fanaticism  of, 
55.  Take  Bosra,  156-  Datnasrus. 
157.  Take  Jerusalem.  158.  <^nquer 
Persia  and  Bgvpt,  161.  Africa,  162. 
Causes  of  their  increase,  165.  Ex- 
tent of  their  conquests.  168.  Their 
rapid  civilization,  171.  Their  l«irning, 
171.  Expansion  of  their  creed.  172i 
Defiaated  at  Tours,  11.  886.  Formidable 
Invasion  of  Oanl,  400  Permit  pil- 
grimage to  Jerusalem  under    rcstric 


544 


INDEX. 


M0KAWKA8. 

tlon#,  iv.  rO.  Tn  Spain  defeated  at 
Narefl  d«  Tolosa,  t.  61.  Warfkre 
jigilnst.  181.  Sr.  FmnciH  among,  2^. 
DiMoniiions  among,  884.  Anger  of, 
at  reiiRion  ot  J«-ru«Hletu,  813. 

Mokawkas^  GoTemor  of  Egypt,  wel- 
comes Muhainmedjin  InTader^,  ii.  161. 

Motay^  Du,  Grand  Ma«ter  of  Templaro, 
▼i.  891.  At  Pari4,  892.  Uiii  advire 
concerning  the  Holj  Ijand,  894.  Hiii 
confenslon  of  charges,  406.  Brought 
before  oommisfiioners,  429,  481.  Mis- 
led by  William  de  PlaaUn,  428.  His 
ohancter,  478.  Brought  up  fbr  sen- 
tence, 526.  His  speech,  627.  Burned 
alire,  627.  His  propheoy — sympathy 
fbr,  528. 

Molesrruy  monastery  of,  its  origin,  ir. 
160. 

"  Monarekity  <U.'>^  Dante's  treatise,  tI. 
521. 

MonarehianUm  introdneed  at  Rome  by 
Praxem,  i.  70.  Why  called  Patripas- 
sianism,  78. 

Monasteries^  rules  of  Justinian  for,  i. 
488.  German,  tt.  256.  Plundered  by 
great  prelates,  iii.  886.  Older,  their 
wealth.  It.  168 ;  and  relaxed  discipline, 
159.    Schools  of,  189. 

Monastic  Orders,  union  of.  Till.  169. 
Versiflera,  806.  Amatory  poetry,  821. 
Satiric  poetry,  824.  Historians,  881. 
Representotions  of  Christ,  470.  Paint- 
ers, 479. 

Monastieism^  Greek,  i.  28  Latin,  25. 
In  Rome,  112,  114.  Increasing  power 
of,  117.  Eastern  and  Western  con- 
trasted, 847.  Of  early  Bngllsh  Church, 
il.  206.  Was  suited  to  the  times,  207. 
Reviyals  of,  iU.  887;  It.  155.  The 
parent  of  intellectual  moTements,  179. 
Antagonistic  to  wealth  of  clergy,  227. 
Did  not  instruct  the  people,  w.zSi. 

Monasticism,  Western.     See  Western. 

Money,  asssssment  of  crimes  for,  i.  616, 
588. 

Mongols  invade  Bnmpe,  r.  466.  De- 
feated by  Emdo,  457. 

MonkSs  Sastem,  1.  280.  Turbulence  or 
816.  Their  influence,  844.  Evils  of 
their  ivranny  and  Iknaticlsm.  845. 
Originally  lay,  649.  Law  of  Maurice 
about,  ti.  81.  Resist  Iconoclasm,  888. 
Persecuted  by  Gonstantine  Goprony- 
mus,  886.  OoDtest  with  8<vnlar9,  ill. 
886,  886.  Numbers  of,  yiU.  189.  Cor> 
ruption  of,  109. 

Monophysititmy  I.  812. 

MonotktlUe  oontroTersy,  il.  266. 

Monoth^Utism,  its  origin,  U.  266.  A 
compromise  with  Monophysitl^m.  268. 

MoHtamsm^  i.  6S.  Of  Phrygian  origin, 
austerity  of,  69.  Bmbrsiped  by  Ter 
tnllian,  70. 


KATI09t& 

Montanus.  i.  68. 

Monte  Casino.  Benedict's  oooTent  at,  II. 

29.     BMieged  b>  Murkwald,  It.  486. 
Montftrrai,  Marquis  of.  joins  Crusade  at 

Zara.  ▼.  98.     HU  treaty  t»U!i  Alexiojt, 

99. 
Montm trail,  mi*«ting  at.  It.  884.    Broken 

off,  886. 
Monumental  sculpture.  Till.  400. 
Morals  of  clergv.  Till.  169. 
Moravians^  conversion  of,  ill.  124. 
Moreale,   Fra,    Til.    206.     Ezecutetl    h> 

Riensi,  206. 
Morosini,  Thomas,  Tenetian    i*atTiarrli 

of  Constantinople,  v.  111.    Confiniird 

Innocent  HI.,  116.    Arrives  at  Con- 
stantinople —  the  Franks  jealous   of. 

118. 
Morrone,  Peter.     See  C«elestine  V. 
Mortmain,  statute  of,  vi.  260.    Its  ob- 
jects, 251 ;  Til.  268.    A  bulwark  against 

Church,  864 ;  viii.  146. 
Mareville.  Hugh  de,  iv.  412. 
MoMtM,  Tiil.  466,  472. 
Moseilama^  rival  of  Mohammed,  slain  by 

Khaled.  il.  162. 
'•  Mother  of  God,*'  viH.  205. 
Movements,    intelleetual,    iv.    179;    v. 

284. 
Muhldorf,  battle  of,  vU.  76. 
Murder  of  Becket,  It.  416.    Tto  ellMir. 

417.     Legality  of,   aMerted   by  Jean 

Petit,  vii.  607. 
Mmret,  battle  of,  v.  206. 
MmaiV,  Church,    improved   by  Grpgnr)- 

the   Great,   ii.   67.     In   Aaglo^SajBm 

church.  282. 
Mysteries,  viii.  812.    Dramatic  —  Impras- 

slveness  of.  816.    Symbolised  in  Gothic 

architecture,  447. 
Mystery  of  Innocents,  vUi.  818. 
Mysticism,  iv.  228. 
Mysticism  and  Scholasticism,  vffi.  S40. 

In  Germany,  886. 


Naples  in  league  with  Saracens,  ill.  90 
Frederick  II.'s  Constitutfon  for,  v.  881. 
University  of.  894.  Claiinants  to  crown 
of.  vi.  84.  Discontent  in  against  Frmrh, 
107.  Arrest  of  Templars  in.  412.  Rl- 
enii  interferes  in  sJEsirs  of,  vil.  108 
War  in.  251. 

Napoleon^  Orslni.  (Cardinal,  his  eomplaint 
to  Philip  the  Fair,  vii.  16. 

Nami  subdued  by  Innocent  III.,  iv. 
477. 

Norses,  Govwnor  of  Italy,  1.  475.  Dl»- 
graoed  —  threatens  rev^t  —  his  death, 
476.    Galls  in  Lombards,  ii.  89. 

Nations,  voting  by,  at  Oonstanoa,  ▼!! 
469. 


IKQEX. 


546 


VATXTITT. 

Nativitff.  St.  Francis  presehet  on,  t. 
266. 

Navarre^  affidn  of,  r.  66. 

Naves  de  Tolom,  battle  of,  t.  61. 

NfpotUm  of  Nico]a«  III.,  y\.  141.  Of 
Qregory  XII.,  vil.  <)08.  Preralenoe  of, 
▼1.580;  vii.272;  riii.  171. 

Neronian  persecution,  1.  BH. 

IVfginrian  controTi>rfiy.  narrownens  of  Its 
iMue,  i.  204.  Referred  to  Pope  Celes- 
tlne  I.,  220. 

Neitmiantsm  promulgated  at  CooAkanti- 
nople,  i.  207.  ReKUtance  to,  208. 
Proacribed  by  Imperial  Pdict,  251.  Its 
remarkablt>  cxfenitio  •  iu  the  Eaitr,  252. 

Nestorius^  a  Syrian,  i.  206.  His  f>ermon« 
at  Conlntintinople,  207.  His  prnecut- 
iog  spirit,  208.  Weakness  of  his  po- 
sition, 219.  His  letter  to  Pope  Cel«<- 
tine  I.,  220.  Condemned  by  Pope,  221. 
Strife  with  his  opponent'*,  224.  His 
influence  at  court.  225.  Proo«diugs 
against  at  Conncil  of  Ephefius,  2&. 
Ketires  to  Antioch,  245.  £xiled  to 
the  Oasis  —  hi«  sufferings*  and  death, 
249. 

Nmiily,  Fulk  of.     Se^  Fnlk. 

Aieea,  first  Council  of,  settles  the  Eas- 
ter question,  i.  66.  Its  hia^h  authority. 
266.  Its  decrees  misquoted  by  Zosi- 
mns,  266. 

iVteea,  second  Council  of,  it.  845.  Its 
proceedings,  846  ;  and  decree  in  fiivor 
of  image-worship,  348. 

Niefon  creed,  viii.  40. 

Nicephorus,  Emperor,  ii.  855. 

Kieepkorus  Phocas.  Eastern  Emperor,  iii. 
186. 

NieoUu  I.,  Pope,  entitled  '•  the  Great," 
iii.  21.  His  intenrention  at  Constanti- 
nople and  in  France  —its  results,  22. 
Sends  legates  to  Constantinople,  25. 
Supports  Ignatius  against  Photius,  29. 
Uis  contest  with  John  Bishop  of  Ra- 
Tenna,  39.  Reduces  him  to  submis- 
sion, 40.  Orerawes  Emperor  Louis  IT., 
48.  Domineers  over  French  prelates, 
49;  and  over  King  Lothair,  52.  His 
triumph  and  death,  56.  His  charac- 
ter, hi.  Sanctions  the  False  Decretals, 
68.    Uis  answer  to  Bogoris,  119. 

Xicolas  II.,  iii.  296.  Vesta  Papal  elec- 
tions in  Cardinals,  296.  Hi^  lesgue 
with  Normans,  801.    His  death,  804. 

Nirolax  III.,  his  designs,  vi.  186.  Ex- 
tends Papal  territories,  188.  His  nep- 
otism. 141;  and  sudden  death,  1^. 
His  intrigues  against  Charles  of  An- 
jou,  152. 

Nicolas  IV.,  Ti.  173.  Annuls  Charles 
the  Lame's  surrender  of  Sicily,  175. 
His  death,  179.  Persecutor  of  Roger 
Bacon,  vlil.  291. 

Nicolas  V.  (Thomiis  of  Sanana),   Papal 


M0E1BU]IBKSI.AK1>. 

legate  at  Frankfort,  viii.  90.  Elected 
Pope,  100.  HL«  prudent  conduct,  101 
His  character  and  poticv,  106.  Holds 
Jubilee,  106.  Crowns  Frederick  III., 
113.  Suppresses  conspiracy.  116.  His 
anxiety,  117.  Uis  death,  119.  A  pa- 
tron of  letters,  121.  Founds  Vat- 
ican Library.  123.  Employs  trans- 
lators from  Oroek  authors,  128,  124. 
His  design  for  St.  Peter *a,  126.  Re- 
pairs churches  and  walls  of  Rome, 
128.  His  buildings  in  Romagna,  129. 
His  death-bed,  129,  1.%.  His  papacy 
closed  mediaeval  letters  and  art,  486. 
Begins  new  era,  488.  Encourages 
classical  learning,  491. 

Nicolas  V.  (Peter  de  Corvara).  Antipope, 
▼ii.  103.  Uis  al^uration.  111.  Con- 
fined at  Avignon  —  his  death.  111. 

NieoUu,  Papal  legate  in  England,  ▼.  44. 

Nicolas  of  Basle,  viii.  402. 

Nitria^  monks  of,  i.  214. 

Nobility  a  ground  for  Papal  dispensa- 
tions, viii.  164. 

'^  Noble  Lesson''  of  the  Waldenses,  ▼ 
155. 

Nobles^  English,  alarmed  by  Becket's 
pretensions,  !▼.  884. 

Nogarct,  William  of,  ▼!.  807,  336.  His 
speech  aaainst  Bouifiioe  VIII.,  337.  In 
Italy,  851.  Altercation  with  Pope  at 
Anagni,  854.  Excepted  from  Papal 
pardon,  862.  His  protest.  877.  De- 
mands abeoltttion.  878.  His  services 
to  Philip  the  Fnir,  880.  Absolved  by 
Clement  V.,  883.  Accuses  Templars, 
893.  481.  Prosecutes  memory  of  Bon- 
iface VIII.,  489.  His  pleadings,  492. 
His  penance,  508 

Nominalists  and  Realists,  iv.  190. 

Norbert,  Archbishop  of  Magdeburg,  Jeal 
ous  of  Ab^lard,  iv.  206. 

Norbert,  St.,  Bishop  of  Utrecht.  ▼.  148. 

Norman  conquest  sanctioned  by  Pope, 
ir.  892.  Latinising  tendency  of.  viii. 
368. 

Norman  architecture,  viii.  486.  Cathe- 
drals, 487. 

Normans  in  South  Italy,  iii.  277.  Their 
victory  over  Leo  IX.,  279.  Their 
league  with  Pope  Nicolas  II..  301. 
Sack  and  burn  Rome.  494.  Vaw«ls 
of  Pope,  iv.  128.  Learned  church- 
men of.  298.  In  France,  viii.  858. 
Become  French,  854     In  Italy,  864. 

Northampton,  Council  of,  iv.  848.  Fines 
Becket,  344. 

Northmen,  ravages  of,  iii.  129.  In  France 
—  in  the  Mediterranean  —  sack  Luna. 
132,  183.  In  Germany,  183.  Their 
religion,  184. 

2Vor/Attm&<rWan(/,  kingdom  of,  ii.  186.  Be- 
comes Christian.  187.  Falls  into  heik- 
thenism,  190.    Its  rpconveraion,  192. 


VOL.  VIII. 


36 


546 


INDEX. 


MOITHimSBIAHt. 

Nortkumbnaiu  accept   Ghrtotiaiilfy,  ii. 

187. 
JVora/HM,  Antipope,  i.  88. 
Novatiamism^  ita  epwd  and  duation,  i. 

86. 
NovatuM  opposes  Qypriaa,  i.  82.  Adheres 

to  NoratiaD,  88. 


0. 


^' Obedience"  of  rival  Popei,  tU.  806, 
809. 

Obiai'ioH*,  Ttti.  166. 

Oekhnm^  \nillam  of,  vii.  28, 60.  His  ao- 
tipapal  writings,  94.  Counsellor  of 
Louifl  of  BaTuria,  140.  Of  Merto'i  Col- 
lege,  867.  A  Fxanciaean,  tIU.  266.  De- 
nie«Pa|wl  authority,  282.  Ifin  thcoloor, 
288 ;  and  philosophy,  284.  His  nomi- 
URlism,  286. 

Oetavian.     See  John  XII. 

Oetaf'an^  CardinaU  Papkl  L^ate,  It.  661. 
At  Soinmna.  662. 

Otlo^  Arrhbhnop,  his  outrage  upon  King 
Edwv,  iii.  888. 

Olio,  Duke  of  Burgundy.  It.  162. 

Odo  at  Ba3eux,  half  brother  of  William 
the  Conqueror,  \v.  J02. 

Odoacer,  King  of  Italy,  i.  814.  HU  d*- 
crpe  ac  election  of  Pcpe    Felix,  828. 

Makes  peace  with  Theodoric^his  death, 

404. 

Odilo,  abbot  of  Clugny.  ill.  886. 
(Ecumenic  council^.'    See  Councils. 
OideastU.     See  Cobbam. 
Ofi'fo,  John  Peter,  his  prophecies,  rii. 

88. 
CHtfmpiu.%  fiiTorite  of  Uonorins,  ruins 

StiUrho,  i.  148. 
Otnnr.  Caliph,  takes  Jerumlem,  ii.  168. 
Orcagna^  Till.  479. 
Orrffol,  i.  640 ;  iii.  46.    At  Florence,  862. 

858. 
Ori/ers^  Mfndicant.     &«  Friars. 
OreMex,  prefect  of  Alezandriii,  endeaTors 

to  maintain  peace,  i.  212.   His  hontiUty 

toC>ril,214. 
Oriental  manners.  w\.  888. 
Orxini,  feuds  of  at  itouie.  It.  477,  478. 

House  of.  Tl.  142,  148 ;  tU.  294. 
Orsini,  Cardinal,  at  ConcIaTe  at  Rome, 

tU.  282,  288.    His  death.  248. 
Osker,  Norman  chief.  III.  131. 
■Ostrogothie  kingdom  of  Italy,  I.  408.   Ito 

decline  after  Thcodoric,  466.     Laws, 

616. 
Oncnld^  in  Northumberland,  luTitcs  a 

bishop  tnm  lona.  ii.  191.    In  Wessez, 

192.    His  death,  192. 
0»win  murdered  by  Oswio,  il.  198. 
O»wto.    bis    Tictonr    OTer    Penda  —  his 

(tower.  Ii.  194,  195. 
Oi/rieil^  Till.  3(i7. 


PALAOLOOnS. 

Otho  I.,  the  OR«t,  Emperor— In  Italf 
—  marries  Adelaide.  iU.  176,  177. 
Crowned  at  Rome,  178.  John  XII.'s 
plota  against,  179.  Uarebes  against 
Rome,  180.  Qaells  insunrctlon  in 
Rome,  188.  Ills  third  expedition  into 
Italy.  186.    His  death,  187. 

Otho  II.,  Emperor.  prepareH  war  anlnst 
Saracens,  dieit  at  Rome,  iii.  188. 189. 

Otho  III.,  Emperor,  HI.  190.  Vudta 
Rome,  makes  Gregory  T.  Prjw  —  b 
crowned,  and  returns.  194.  luTadea 
Italy  — his  severities,  197.  Hi«  great 
designs,  201.  Enters  the  tomb  of 
Charlemagne.  202.  Appoints  OaHtert 
Pope,  216.  Visita  liome  —  poltDoed  by 
Stephania,  218. 

Otho  lY.  In  England,  It.  4ML  His  claim 
to  empire,  ^.  Crowned  at  Aix-la- 
Chapelle,  6<S.  AppeaL*  to  Innocent 
TIL,  508.  Declared  Emperor  br  Pope. 
614.  Proclaimed  by  legatee,  616.  His 
coronation  at  Rome.  627-  lu  Tuscany, 
629.  Quan^ls  with  Innocent  III..  G28. 
ExconUBunicati'd,  680.  Hiring  against 
in  Germany.  682.  Returns  to  Qcr- 
many.  683.  Marries  daughter  of  Em- 
peror Philip,  684.  Retii««  befom  Fred- 
erick II..  438.  His  ptrnanee  and  death. 
T.  288,  289. 

OlAo,  Cardinal  of  St.  Nicolas.  It.  875. 

OiAo,  Bishop  of  Bambeng,  It.  76. 

Otho  of  U'lttlesbach,  murders  King  Phil- 
ip, It.  626. 

Otho,  Papal  legato  In  Eisgland.  t.  SIA. 
488. 

Otho,  Duke  of  BaTaria.  t.  489.  Hia  fi. 
dellty  to  Emperor  Frederick,  489, 491. 

OUo.     See  Urban  II. 

Oitobmomi,  cardinal  legate  in  England,  vL 
99.  Hilt  senteirces.  108.  Constitutloas 
of.  106. 

Oxford,  Til.  857.     WycUffito,  a9L 


P. 


Paderbomy  diet  at,  II.  479. 

Paganifm,  extinction  of,  1. 128, 166. 

Pf^ans^  dispersion  of.  1. 160. 

Patnting,  encountged  bT  Nicolas  Y.,  tIB. 
129.  Christian,  464.'  Bysantin^,  466. 
DeTOtlonal,  46«.  Cloistral  school  of; 
481.    Transalpine,  484. 

Pnintingn,  B>antine.  Till.  478.  WaD, 
478. 

PaUrolognsf^  Michael.  Greek  Emperor.  tI. 
127.  Reconciles  Qrevk  and  Kooaa 
churches,  131.  I'lsurrertion  ag>«inst. 
137.  Excommunicated,  144.  His  death, 
146.  His  Intrigues  ngilust  Charlcw  of 
Anjou.  162. 

PaUtologus,  John  YI.,  riii.  14.  Negoti- 
ates with  Pope  and  C/uuncil  of  Basia, 


INDEX. 


547 


PALECI. 

14.  RenolTefl  on  Journey  to  Italy,  19. 
EmbHrlu,  28.  Hin  reception  at  Venice, 
25.  Goes  to  Femira^  27.  At  Florence, 
88.    Ileturns  to  Confftintinople.  48. 

PaUez  accuser  of  (Iu&h,  rii.  4S5,  490. 
Bn treats  him  to  yield,  493 

Palermo,  Archbishop  of,  v.  505. 

Palermo  ri^ea  agninst  French,  t1.  156. 

PaUstinfy  oacruU  places  iu,  iv.  18.  Affairs 
of,  T.  8*6. 

Pale.strina  HurrenJered  to  Boniface  YIII., 
Ti.  229. 

Paimari,  Synod,  i.  420.  Acquits  Sym- 
machuR,  421. 

PaniJtUphy  legate  to  King  John,  v.  85. 
Dictates  treaty,  36.  Prohibits  Philip's 
inv)f<ion  of  England,  41.  In  England, 
50,53. 

PantJitlphy  Biflhop  of  Norwich,  ▼.  816. 

^^Pan^e  Lingua  Oloriosi,"  viii.  809. 

Pantatfon^  Jttniei^.     See  Urban  IV. 

PatUJieism  of  Erigena,  iv.  187.  Hereby 
of,  viii.  249. 

Papacy  riws  on  decline  of  Empire,  i.  187. 
Temporal  power  of,  i  ijurious  to  spirit- 
nal,  478.  The  life  of  (Christianity,  ii. 
42.  MedisBTal.  its  servicer  to  Europe, 
48.  Seised  by  Toto,  482.  Under  Char- 
lemngne,  469.  State  of,  at  Charle- 
magne's death.  510.  AoHsement  of 
(10th  century),  iii.  152.  Sale  of,  230. 
i)«grad:ition  of,  23^.  Preserves  Christi- 
anity. 830.  KeviT.iI  of,  361.  Universal 
reverence  for,  3*^.  Itelatlons  of  to 
Empire,  395.  It«  powera.  398.  Strife 
with  Empire  terminated  by  Concordat 
of  Worms,  iv.  144  Idea  of,  463. 
Causes  of  its  strength,  466.  Humility 
of  its  language,  467.  S.itire^  upon,  v. 
18S.  Venality  of,  139 ;  vii.  529.  I^ast 
strife  of  with  Empire,  v.  321.  Vacincv 
of,  458;  Ti.  118,  122;  vii.  18.  Decline 
of.  vi.  299,  531.  Vitality  of,  870.  De- 
gradatioQ  of,  871.  Strengthened  by 
Council  of  Constance,  vii  523.  Re- 
stored bv  Nicolas  V.,  viU.  126.  Blind- 
ness of,  182.  Public  feeling  impatient 
of,  489. 

PapiU  authority  strengthened  by  Cru- 
sades, iv.  464.     Lofty  claims  of.  vi.  210. 

Paptit  claims  examined  by  Marsilio  of 
Padutt.  vii.  89. 

Papal  court,  its  Jealousy  of  Kiensi,  vii. 
176. 

Pc^tal  elections,  tumultuous  character 
of,  i.  196.  Regulated  by  Emperors,  200. 
Anomaly  in.  iii.  152  Violence  of,  155. 
Vest«d  in  Cardinals.  298.  Regulated 
at  Council  of  Lyon;*,  vi.  181. 

Papal  extortions,  vii.  881. 

Papal  legates,  iii.  53. 

Pnprd  power,  based  on  Friars^  orders,  t. 
412.  169.  Controversy  on,  vii.  00.  De- 
elimiof,d52j  viii.  99. 


PASTOraiAUX. 

Papal  prerogative,  growth  of.  vii.  516. 

Papal  revenues,  failure  of.  vii.  268.  From 
England,  848. 

Papal  schism.     See  Schism. 

Paper,  manufacture  of,  viii.  494. 

Paraclete^  the,  founded  by  Ab^lard,  It. 
208.  Occupied  by  Heloisa  and  nuns, 
210. 

Paraphrases,  viii.  802. 

Parental  power  under  Justinian,  i.  496. 
Was  never  absolute  in  practice,  604. 
Limitations  of,  604,  605. 

Paris,  universit)'  of,  vi.  66.  Its  contest 
with  citizens,  66.  Dispute  with  Do- 
minicans, 67,  70.  76.  Takes  part  with 
Philip  the  Fair,  847.  Condemns  Papal 
schism,  vii.  278.  Circular  lettftrs  of, 
280.  Kf^sists  friars.  824.  Looked  up  to 
by  schoolmen,  viii.  7S&. 

Parish  Priest,  Chaucer's,  viU.  889. 

Parliament  (of  Westminster),  iv.  834. 
Development  of,  vi.  288.  At  Bury,  260, 
261.  Of  Lincoln,  296.  Petitions  against 
hierarchy .  vii.  855.  Resists  Papal  ex- 
actions, 368.  '-The  Good  "878.  Strife 
in,  414. 

Parliament  (French),  vi.  818.  Addresses 
Pope    and    Cardinals,    820.    At    the 

'  liOuvre,  336.  Second  meeting  of,  840. 
At  Tours,  415.  Condemns  Templars, 
416. 

Parliaments  in  kingdom  of  Naples,  v. 
888. 

Parma  taken  by  Papalista,  y.  495.  Re- 
pulses Frederick  II.,  496.  Expulsion  of 
inquisitors  from,  vii.  40. 

Parma^  John  of,  General  of  Franciscans, 
vi.  72,  78. 

Pasrfiat  I.,  Pope.  ii.  619.  Charge  against, 
629.    His  death,  629. 

Pnsrhal  II.,  Pope,  iv.  67.  Not  acknowl- 
edged—f.trife  with  Henry  IV.,  76.  Ab- 
solves Pri^ice  Henry,  79.  His  relations 
with  Henry  V,,  89.  At  OuastaUa— in- 
vited into  Germany,  90,  91.  His  treaty 
with  Henry  V.,  98.  His  suspicion  and 
insincerity,  102.  Impri8on«<J,  104.  Hif 
treaty  with  Henry,  107.  Crowns  him, 
106.  His  clergy  remonstrate,  109.  His 
embarrassment,  110.  His  treaty  an- 
nulled, 111.  Confirms  excommunica- 
tion of  Henry  V.,  119.  Quarrels  with 
Roman  people,  121.  Retires  before 
Henry  V.,  12S.  His  death.  125.  Buried 
in  the  Lateran,  125. 
Paschal  III.,  Imperialist  Pope,  iv.  296. 
Accompanies  Frederick  Barbarossa  to 
Rome,  429.     In  Rome  —  dies,  481. 

Pastoureaux^  the,  vi.  57.  Their  progress 
and  hostility  to  clergy.  69. 60.  In  Paris 
—  at  Orleans,  60,  61.  In  Bourges, 
Bordeaux,  and  Marseilles.  62.  Sup- 
pressed, 6iB.  Second  outbreak  of,  vii. 
64.    Persecute  the  Jews,  66. 


548 


Paunmes,  iii.  81&  Vent  applied  to  lUa- 

ietaeuu,  ▼.  161. 
PeUripauiauitm,  i,  78.    St€  Maaardiian- 


Pavia  burnt   hj  HimgariaDK,    ffi.  150. 

Coaneil  oC,  decidai  Ibr  Tictor  IV.,  ir. 

2B2.    CooDcU  of,  Tu.  584. 
Patd,  St.,  hatred  of,  shown  in  tike  Cfe- 

mentina,  i.  63. 

PauTs,  St..  CoancU  in,  ri.  106.  Ustarb- 
anec  in,  Tii.  377     OifiA  Co.  rtii.  156. 

Paui.  Pope,  ii.  428.  His  adnlation  of  Pe- 
pin. 429.  FearoftheOrecki>,430.  Pon- 
tificate peaopfol.  432. 

Paul.  Bishop  of  Kioeita,  negotiatfS  p««ce 
with  Gjrii,  L  248. 

Paul^  BiHhop  of  Ooniitantinople.  ii.  275, 
341.  Uis  declaimtion  in  finTor  of  image- 
wonhip,  and  death,  343. 

Paulieians^  t.  158.  Pecsecutionfi  of,  un- 
der Theodora  — in  Balgaria.  159. 

Paulinui  eonrerts  King  Edwin,  ii.  187. 
(.k>nTert0  North umbriauii,  187.  Biehop 
of  York,  188.  Hia  flight  into  Kent, 
190. 

Prtiee  of  Germany,  ir.  73.  Iriuome  to 
the  nobles,  77. 

Peeuia,  eon  of  Penda,  coiiTersion  of.  ii. 
194. 

Peasants  under  Frederick  II.,  ▼.  887. 

Pedro  of  Arragon  makee  kingdom  feuda- 
tory to  Pope,  T.  67.  Hlfl  marriige  and 
Journey  to  Home,  68.  Id  Albigenslaii 
war,  199.     Protect*  Count  Raymond, 

205.  His  appeal  to  Pope  Innocent  HI., 

206.  Slain  at  M  urot,  208. 
Pelagian  controTersy,  1.  164.    Origin  of, 

in  human  nature,  168. 

Ptlagianism^  an  element  of  all  religious 
systems,  1. 168.  Indiflerence  to,  in  the 
«aMt,200. 

Pelagius  a  Briton,  i.  165.  In  Rome,  Af- 
rin,  and  Palestine — acquitted  of  her- 
esy—  opposed  by  Augustine,  and  by 
Jerome.  166.  Declared  orthodox  by 
Pope  Zosimus,  180.  Declaration  re- 
tracted, 188. 

Pelagius  I-,  Pope,  his  preTlons  history, 
I.  471.  Sent  by  TotUa  to  Constantino- 
ple —  made  Pope,  472.  Accused  of 
plotting  against  VIgllius  —  regarded 
with  suspicion,  473.  Supported  by 
Narses  —  his  death.  474. 

Pelagius  n.,  Pope,  i.  476. 

Penance  at  Canosa.  iii.  456.  Of  Henry 
II..  420.    Of  St.  Louis,  ri.  18. 

Penda^  his  victory  over  Edwin,  ii.  189. 
Over  Oswald,  192.  DeCaated  and  slaiu 
by  Oswlo,  194. 

Psnitential  system,  1.  660,  568.  AdTau- 
tages  of.  664. 

P^pin  the  Short,  unites  Pranev,  ii.  89(K 
Keotod  King.  418.  Teutonismi  Fn-nch 
monarchy,   410.     Anointed    by   Pope 


Stephen,  420.  Invades  Italy,  422. 
Beoood  inTMton  of  Italy,  428.  His 
meeeait.  ^27.  Entitled  *•*  Patrician  ot 
Rome,"  428. 

Pfpin.  KOI  of  Louis  tlie  Pious,  his  suc- 
cessful rebellion,  ii.  684.  Submits  to 
his  father,  537.  Rebels  again,  640. 
Dies.  648. 

Pepin,  Count,  in  Rome.  Tii.  182. 

''  Perils  of  the  last  Tim<«,''  bomad  be- 
fore Alexander  IT..  y\.  74. 

Persecution  by  Nero  and  Domitian,  1.  52. 
Under  Tnjfku    in  the  £a.Ht,  53.      K 
Maximin,  80.    By  Decius,  81     Of  pil- 
grims, iT  21.    Of  heretics  hi  La'.^.ti*- 
doc,  Ti.  82.    In  France,  37. 

Persia^  war  with.  ii.  106.  Moha'jini*>).(:i 
conquest  of.  161. 

Perugia,  eonclATe  at,  vi.  182,  872.  Bo:.i- 
faoe  IX.  in,  Tii.  275.  Tnmnlto  in,  27«. 
Abandoned  by  Pope.  276. 

Peter^  St.,  the  leading  person  of  the  Cleai- 
entina,  1.  62.  Roman  claim  of  descent 
from,  128. 

P*ter''Sy  St.,  Rome,  contest  for,  iii.  507- 
New  cathedral,  design  for,  Tiii.  126. 

Pel«r  the  Fuller,  his  intrigues  at  Antiocb. 
i.  317, 828.  Agrees  to  the  Henotieon. 
828.  Excommunicated  by  Pope  Felix. 
829. 

Peter  the  Stammerer,  Bishop  of  Alexan- 
dria, 1.  322. 

Peter  the  Archdeacon,  ivmarkable  death 
of,  U.  88. 

Peter,  Bishop  of  Florence,  ilf.  850. 

Peter  the  Hermit,  iv.  25.  His  pnsaehiBK 
and  influence,  27.    In  Germany,  70. 

Peter,  soo  of  Lso,  bis  influence  over  ft»- 
chal  II..  iT.  96.  His  paH  in  tteati 
with  Henry  Y.,  99. 

Petf-r  of  Blols,  his  account  of  death  of 
Urban  UI.,  It.  448.  Efforts  for  King 
Richard's  liberation,  451. 

Peter.  King  of  Hungary,  dethroned,  iii. 
272. 

Petrr  the  Venerable,  Abbot  of  Clugny, 
protects  Ab61ard,  It.  219.  Refntes  P^ 
tor  Ue  Brueys,  t.  1^ 

Pet*r  of  Capua,  legate  in  France,  iT.  642. 
Declares  Interdict,  644.  Papal  legate 
to  Cnuuulers  at  Zara,  t.  100.  Recnile  1 
by  Innocent  III.,  119,  120. 

Petfr  de  Ca.«telnau,  Lc^te  to  ProTfiiri*. 
T.  \'y<.  174.  Excommunicates  Count 
Raymoo'l.  174.  Murdered,  176.  Ilt« 
murder  ascribed  to  Count  Ravmond, 
177. 

Ptter.  Monk  of  Vau  .  Cvma^,  his  history 
of  AIbi|{ensian  war.  t.  l^o. 

Pi-ifT  uf  Arragnn,  Ti.  160.  PrepaRfS  for 
w  ir,  151.  Ills  sccn.'C.-.  153  Anivvj*  in 
Hicii » .  162.  Illii  embasey  to  Charles  of 
Anjott,  168.  Agrees  to  single  comlMt. 
164.  At  Bordeaux,  168.  HlidsMh,171. 


INDKZ. 


549 


F't^  Lombard,  "  SentauMS  ^'  of,  Till. 
288. 

Peier^s  pence,  iy.  890:  t.  814. 

Fetra^  coaqnered  by  Rome,  ii.  112. 

Pftrarch,  ''  de  Vita  fioUtaril."  vi.  195.  At 

*  ATij^aoD,  vii.  187.  His  opinion  of  Rien- 
ai.  193.  Ws  expostulation  to  Urban  V., 
215.     Religion  of,  Tiii.  846. 

Prtrobussiaru^  v.  142. 

Peymud^  Hugh  de,  vi.  428. 

Philagatktts^  a  Oreek  —  Antipope.  iil. 
196.  Cruel  treatment  of,  by  Otho  III., 
197. 

Philip  I.  of  France,  charges  agaimst,  by 
Gregory  VII.,  iii.  391.  His  character, 
524.    Exoouimunicated,  524. 

Philip  Augustus,  his  crusade,  ir.  447. 
Talces  part  with  Emperor  Philip,  502. 
Marries  Ingeburga  of  Denmark,  589. 
His  aversion  to  her,  540.  Marries  Ag- 
nes of  Meran,  542.  His  peace  with 
England,  544.  His  rage  at  Interdict, 
547.  Compelled  to  submit.  551.  Ac> 
knowledges  Ingeburga,  552.  Treats 
her  with  neglect  —  supports  Prince 
Arthur  of  England,  v.  15.  Abandons 
his  cause,  16.  Summons  John  of  Eng- 
land to  do  homage.  17.  Makes  war  on 
John,  18.  Takes  Normandy,  20.  Un- 
dertakes to  dethrone  King  John,  83. 
Forbidden  to  proceed  by  Pope,  41. 
His  rage,  41.  EHtabUshes  college  for 
Greeks  at  Paris,  117  Approves  cru- 
sade against  Provencal  lieretics,  180. 
Hill  Jealousy  of  Simon  de  Montfort, 
204,  211.    Death  of,  vi.  170,  171. 

Philip  the  Fair,  vi.  218.  Compared  with 
Edward  I.,  242.  His  policy,  246.  De- 
ludes Edward  I.,  246.  His  rapacity, 
255.  E  actions  front  Jew.4  and  bank- 
ers, 256.  From  nobles.  257.  Taxes 
clergy,  258.  Re»i.<(t«  Pope,  265.  De- 
tains daughter  of  Count  of  Flanders, 

267.  Bull  of  BouifNce  Vill.  against, 

268.  His  reply.  271-278.  His  war 
with  England,  275.  Successes  in 
Flanders.  276.  Willini;ness  for  peace. 
277.  Treaty  with  Edwani  1.,  278. 
Abandons  Scots,  299.  His  quarrel 
with  Pope,  299.  Its  ground:;,  800. 
Dlasatisfled    with    Papal    arbitration, 

802.  Alliance  with  Albert  of  Austria, 

803.  Arraigns  and  imprisons  Papal 
Legate,  8D7.  ills  reply  to  Le.«ser  Bull, 
814.  Bums  Greater  Bull,  818.  Con- 
demns the  Inquisition,  329.  His  re- 
ply to  Pope,  884.  Excommunicated 
—  holds  Parliament  at  the  Louvre, 
886.  His  ''Onlinanoe  of  Reforma- 
tion,'- 387.  Seises  Papal  despatches, 
840.  Appeals  to  General  Council,  845. 
Second  excomntu mention  of,  850.  His 
(•niUissy  to  Benedict  XI.  —  ob tains  ab- 
solutiua,  3G0,  331.     Persecutes  memo- 


nAomA. 

ry  of  Bonifliee  Yin.  —  his  embassy  to 
Cardinals,  868,  864.  Secret  eompaet 
with  Clement  V.,  874.  Inrists  on  con- 
demnation of  Bonifiice,  877.  His  vxr 
pedlents  for  raising  money,  379,  880. 
His  reception  of  Du  Molay,  892.  Ar- 
rests the  Tempburs,  898.  His  further 
proceedings  a^nst  them,  400.  Sends 
message  to  England,  410.  Seeks  em- 
pire for  his  brother  Charles,  414.  Calls 
on  Pope  to  condemn  Templars,  417.  Re- 
sponsible for  proceedings  against  Tem- 
plars, 475.  Contemporary  testimonv 
aoainst.  479.  Disappointed  of  spoils, 
4o0.  Urges  proceedings  gainst  mem- 
ory of  Boniface  VIII.,  486.  Refuses  to 
prosecute  before  Pope,  486.  .^bandots 
prosecution,  500.  Bums  Du  Molay, 
527.  His  death,  682.  Disasters  of  his 
la«t  years  —  his  poverty,  532.  Con- 
duct of  his  dan^hters-ln-law,  533  His 
death,  534.    Ills  sons,  vii.  22. 

Philip  de  Valiris,  propoaes  crusade  against 
Moors,  vii.  114.  His  estrangement  from 
John  XXII..  117.  Resolves  on  rVumde, 
125.  Prevents  Pope's  reconriliatkm 
with  Empire,  129.  Intercedes  for  Loais 
of  Bavaria,  132. 

Philip  the  Long,  King  of  France,  vii.  22. 
Distnrlianeee  in  his  reign,  64. 

Philip  the  Hohenstaufen,  his  claim  to 
Empire,  iv.  497.  His  negotiation  with 
Innocent  III.,  501.  Crowned  at  Ments. 
602.  His  address  to  Innocent  in.,  604^ 
His  adherents.  505.  Innocent  declares 
against  him,  512.  Holds  Diet  at  Ban- 
berg,  616.  Acknowledgi^  by  Innocent 
III.,  628.  Murdered,  625.  His  am- 
bassadors to  crusaders  in  iMhalf  of 
Alexius,  V.  98. 

Philip^  Duke  of  Burgundy,  viii.  92. 

PhUip,  elected  Pope  by  a  foction,  ii.  488. 

Philosophy,  forpign  to  Mohammedanism, 
viii.  242.  AristoteUan,  245.  Arabian, 
251. 

PkUoxenua.     See  Xenaias. 

Phoeas,  his  usurpation,  ii.  88  His  char- 
acter, 85. 

Photius,  h\a  learning,  iii.  24.  Appointed 
Patriarch  of  Constantinople  —  his  con- 
test with  Ignatius,  25.  His  letters  to 
Nicolas  I  ,  25,  28.  Deene  of  Nicolas 
against.  29.  Holds  Council  at  Con- 
stantinople, 88.  Deposed  by  Emperor 
Basil,  81.  Condemned  at  Council  cf 
Constantinople,  85.  His  restoration, 
second  deposition,  and  death,  87. 

Physical  science,  pr^udice  against,  viii. 
185. 

Piaeemay  Council  of,  iii.  617.  Orsat  aa- 
seuiblage,  618.  Receives  charges  against 
Henry  IV. —  its  decrees,  519.  Ffant 
mention  of  crusade  coldly  recdvcd, 
528. 


550 


INDEX. 


KcooLOMnn. 

Pieeolomhu,  Ikmlly  of,  fiil.  65. 

Fietures  of  Saints,  ii.  802.  Argament  in 
IkTor  of,  808.    Allegorieal,  Tii.  182. 

Fitn  Ploaghman's  Tiaion,  riii.  8i2.  Po- 
etry-of,  878.  On  wealth  of  citsinr.  875. 
Agminst  MendieaatB,  876.  Oo  clergv  — 
polities  of.  877.  AUcgory  of.  379.  The 
Vision.  380.  Its  moral,  882.  Proba- 
bly anflnifhed,  884. 

Pilgrimage^  opinions  of  the  Fathers  apon. 
It.  17.  Growing  tendency  to,  18. 
Commeree  of,  19.  Continaed  under 
Mohammedan  rule,  20.  Dangen  of,  21. 

Pitgrims  at  Rome,  plundered,  ill.  281, 
282.  PerMcuted  by  Tnrkii,  It.  21. 
To  Rome,  ri.  2S5. 

Pisoy  the  Papal  citv  under  Innocent  IT., 
ir.  174.  Catliedral  of — Council  of, 
▼ii.  812.  818.  Its  proceedings,  815. 
Deposes  riral  Popes,  817.  Elects  Alex- 
ander v.,  820.  Aichitectnra  of.  Tiii. 
485. 

PisanOy  Nicolo,  sculptor  and  architect, 
▼iU.  480. 

Pius  n.     See  iBneas  Sylvius,  ▼»!.  120. 

Plague  at  Rome,  11.  52.  At  Avignon,  vU. 
IM.  At  Ferrara,  viii.  81.  At  Basle, 
66,  78. 

PUuianj  William  of,  vi.  807.  His  charges 
against  Boni&ce  VIII.,  841.  His  ad- 
▼ice  to  Dn  Molay,  428  Prosecutor  of 
memory  of  Booifikce  VIII.,  489. 

Phmlities,  vUi.  164 

Poetiy^  ProTRU^,  ▼.  168;  Yiii.  887.  Of 
St.  Francis,  ▼.  264.  Vefnarular,  286- 
Barly  lulian,  ▼.  881.  Parisian  ▼ulgar, 
▼i.  76.  Christtan  Latin.  ▼IH.  801. 
Soriptural,  802.  Historical.  80(.  I^t- 
in,  806.  Lyiir,  820.  (Crusading,  324. 
Satiric,  825.  ItaUan,  888,  889.  Ro- 
mance, 856.    Rise  of  English.  871. 

Poggio  Bracciolini,  ▼iii.  128. 

Pottiers,  Clen.«nt  V.  at,  vi.  881.  417. 

PoUentia,  battle  of,  i  144. 

JP0/jreAroMiM.t  at  Constantinople,  ii.  286. 

PangUupo  of  Ferrara,  ▼ii.  87. 

Pnuard  de  Gisi  undertakes  defence  of 
Templars,  ▼i.  429.    Tortured,  480. 

Pontianus^  Pope,  banished  to  Sardinia  — 
martyrdom  of,  i.  80. 

PontiJieeOe,  Roman,  tlie  centre  of  latin 
Christianity,  i.  41. 

Pontignff^  Cistercian  monastery,  iv.  880. 
Backet's  retirement  there,  861. 

^OT  Men  of  Lyons.  ▼.  141.  151.  Con- 
demned by  Lucius  III.,  152.  Their 
doetrima,  158. 

Popes,  0Briy,  their  names  nearty  all 
Greek,  i.  4i.  Traditions  about  them 
irorthless,  48.  Their  obecurity,  real 
dignity,  and  power,  51,  52.  Danger 
of  their  post,  68.  Subject  to  Ihstern 
Xmperor,  476;  ii.  261.  Their  policy 
destructive  to  Italy,  i.  477,  478.    List 


pmoHiBinD. 

of,  firom  Orpgory  I.  to  Orvgoty  IT.,  B. 
260.  Temporal  power  of,  SS9.  R.npid 
surccesion  of  (9th  century),  iii.  111. 
Their  part  in  Imperial  elections,  154. 
Three  ri^al.  282.  All  dcgnitlcd  by 
Henry  III..  283.  Gain  power  froa 
Crusades,  !▼.  41,  464.  Kepp  aloof 
from  Crusades,  48.  Their  legite«,  45- 
Tictorv  o^er  Kmpire.  435.  Amiir^ 
of.  ▼.  433;  vii.  270.  Aliianre  wic.i 
Friars,  vi.  63.  Rapid  sucr«wion  of. 
133.  Favor  France  against  EngU  mI, 
vii.  214.  Rivnl,  246.  Thdr  niutti.ii 
distrust,  807.  Deposed  at  Pt<a,  31.. 
TajEation  by,  viii.  158.  Satin;*  on. 
326.  Opposition  to.  in  GemMn.» ,  3^^). 
Originators  of  houses,  487. 

Porroro,  Stephen,  viil.  114.  His  coo- 
spiracy  and  death,  116. 

Porto,.  Cardinal  of,  his  speech  to  Coneii*- 
tory,  vi.  824. 

Portttgal^  relations  of  to  Papacy,  ▼.  61. 

PortMSy  its  situation  and  bishopric,  i.  74. 

"  Possexitiomersy^'  vii.  401. 

Pojfety  Bernard  de.  Cardinal,  npputed  son 
of  Johu  XXII.,  I«g:tte  to  Lombaz^lj. 
vii.  72.    At  Bologna.  115. 

JVemNNtVr,  Statute  of,  vii.  854.  581. 

Pmgmatie  Sanction,  vl.  40.  119;  vHi.  81, 

m. 

Prague y  Rienii  at,  vU.  186.    Univctsfty 

of,  440.    Articks  of,  546. 
Praxeas  the  hereslareh,  i.  70. 
'-  Preachen  "  Ibunded  by  St.  Doininir,  ▼. 

246. 
Preaching,  disuse  of,  ▼.  280.     Was  Uie 

strpngth  of  herrsles,  284. 
Prebendaries,  ▼»!.  158. 
Predestination,  doctrine   of.  opposed  to 

hlenuvhy,  I  v.  188. 
Preferment,  Papal  right  of,  vii.  516. 
Presence^  Real,  Brigena*s  deflnitioQ  of,  iii. 

268. 
Priesthood^  tif  Teutons,  i.  868.    Power 

of,   viii.   180.    Its  loss  of  power,  4M. 

Its  claims,  601. 
Priests,  haughHneas  of,  jM.  438. 
Primogeniture,  ii.  628. 
Printing,  viii.  494. 
PrisciUian,  put  to  death  by  Mazimus,  i. 

276. 
Ptiseillianites  in  Spain,  i.  278. 
Procession  of  Holy  Ghost,  viii.  89,  46, 

185. 
Proeida,  John  of,  ▼i.  146.    His  intrfgnt*. 

152. 
Peoeius   preaebce   against   Nestmios,  i. 

209.    Bishop  of  Consteatioople,  260. 
Procopius,  ▼ii.  545,  547.    His  vieteriea. 

551.    Hisdmth.568. 
Pirocurationa,  v.  488. 
Progres*  of  intell«et.  viii.  489. 
Prohibited  degrrvs  of  marriage  —  ezteDd- 

cd  to  spiritual  reUtionahip,  i.  488. 


INDEX. 


551 


PBOPBROaS. 

Ptopkeeiex,  FranciMan,  vH.  28)  83. 

Prophetesses^  Teutonic,  i.  368. 

Property,  law  of,  as  affecting  the  church, 

i.  GOi',  635. 
Prosper^  a  partisan  of  Augastlne,  i.  191. 

His  poem.  1^2. 
Protertus^  murder  of,  i.  817. 
Proven^    poetry,    y.    163;    riii.    386. 

Olersry,  ▼.  164.    Language,  236. 
Provence^  sufaiject  to  kings  of  Naples,  rii. 

16. 
Provisions^  y\\.  516. 
Prorisors,  statute  of,  Tii.  268,  851.    Ra- 

enacted,  864. 
Prudentitts,  yiii.  308. 
Prussia,  paganism  in,  vl.  687.    Subject 

to  Teutonic  knighbi,  588. 
Ptotemaisj  Frederick  II.  at,  r.  849. 
'*  PiMicans,'^  doctrines  of,  v.  149.  Burnt 

as  heretics,  149. 
Pukheria,    sifter   of  Theodosius  II.,  1. 

243.    Ruius  Nestorius.  244.    Empress 

—  marries  Marcian,  290.    Her  death, 

295. 
Purgatory,  growth  of  belief  in,  ylli.  224. 

Visions  and  l<^nd3  of,  227. 
Pyrrhus,  Bishop  of  Constiintlnople,  flies 

to  Africa,  ii.  273.    At  Rome — his  moa- 

othelitiflm,   274.      Anathematised    by 

Pope  Theodorus,  275. 


Q. 


Vwstions.     See  ControTerries. 
Ouiuisextan  Council,  ii.  289. 
Qaod-ifttlt-Deus,    Bishop   of  Carthage, 
banished  to  Italy  by  Genseric,  i.  269. 


R. 


Races  of  Europe,  yiii.  870. 

Haehias,  a  Lombard  Idng,  attacks  Pe* 

rugia.  ii.  409.     Becomes   monk,  410. 

Reapp«ani,  428. 
Rainteri,  Bishop,  his  war  against  Dololn- 

ites,  Tii.  47. 
Rainer^  Papal  Legate  in  Spain,  t.  61, 

66. 
Randulph  de  Broc.  an  enemy  of  Becket, 

ir.  861,  406,  409. 
RntheriuSy  Bishop   of  Verona,   iii.  171, 

172. 
RaUionaUsm  of  Brigena,  It.  186. 
RatisboH,  Diet  at.  It.  93;  tU.  84. 
Ravennaj  monument  of  Theodoric  at,  1. 

448.     Exarchs  of,  their  weakness,  ii. 

871.     Tumults   in  —  taken    by  Liut- 

{>rand.  876.     Retaken,  877.     Parties 
n,  87o.    Ceded  to  Roman  Church  by 
Rudolph  of  Hapsbnrg,  Ti.  138.    De- 
cline of.  Til.  172.    Churches  of,  420. 
Raymondj  Count  of  Toulouse,  y.  171. 


EBims. 

His  difficult  po!«it{on,  178.  Excommu- 
nicated, 174.  Obarged  with  murder 
of  Papal  legate,  176.  Excommuni- 
cated by  Pope,  173.  His  8ubniii«sion 
and  penance,  188.  Compelled  to  Join 
crua-ide,  184.  Continued  persecution 
of.  192.  His  journey  to  Rome,  198. 
New  demand)*  upon,  197.  Takes  up 
armff,  200.  Hi<<  contest  in  Toulouse 
with  Bi.shop,  201.  Defeated  at  Muret, 
208.  His  submission — puts  to  death 
his  brotaer,  209.  Withdraws  to  Eng- 
land. 211.  DepoMd  by  Lateran  Coun- 
cil, 212.  Appears  before  the  Pope, 
213.  Recoyers  Toulou<se,  220.  His 
deach  —  his  body  refused  burial,  223 

RaymontJ  VII.  (the  younger)  of  Tou- 
louHe,  flies  to  Unglaud,  y.  211.  At 
Rome,  218.  Under  protection  of  In- 
nocent III.,  218.  His  war  with  De 
'  ontfbrt,  218.  Treaty  with  St.  Louis, 
223.  Penance.  224.  Rises  against 
Louis  IX.,  yi.  36.   Forced  to  fiubmit,  36. 

Raymond  de  Pe-inaforte,  y.  398. 

Realists  and  Nomlnalisti,  iy.  190,  191. 

Reason,  limits  of,  yiii.  275. 

Recared^  Catholic  King  of  Spain,  ii.  66. 

'•  Re/ormation,  Ordinunce  of,"  yi.  387. 

Reformation,  causes  of,  yiii.  182.  De- 
inand  for,  407. 

Reforms  of  Benedict  XII.,  yii.  133. 

*^  Refutation  of  all  Hersfies,''  Hippolytus 
its  probable  author,  i.  75. 

Reginaid,  Archbishop  of  Cologne,  iy. 
863.    His  death,  376. 

Relies,  ii.  96.  Tales  of  their  efficacy, 
97.  Supply  of,  from  Pales^iue,  iy. 
19.  Plunder  of,  at  Constantinople, 
y.  109.  Veneration  of  St.  Louij«  for, 
yi.  21.  Brought  into  hall  of  council 
at  Basle,  yiii.  54.  Veneration  for,  217. 
Want  respecting,  219. 

Religion,  popular,  yiii.  186.  Various  el- 
ements of,  499. 

Religious  wars  in  Oaul,  i.  884.  Origin 
of,  ii.  169.  £stabli.shed  by  CruNideit. 
iy.  49.  Their  subsequent  preyalence, 
53. 

Remi,  St.,  church  of.  consecrated,  iii. 
250.    Sa  .ctity  of,  yiii.  213. 

Remigius.  baptises  Cloy  is,  i.  381.  His 
remains  remoyed,  iii.  260. 

<'  Renardus  Vulpes."  yiii.  307. 

RepuUie  in  Rome,  iy.  239,  245.  Its  end. 
265,  266.    Under  Riensi,  yii.  167. 

Republics,  Italian,  extinct,  yiii.  487. 

Reservations,  yii.  516. 

Reserves,  Papal,  yii.  120. 

Revival  of  letters,  yiii.  488.  490. 

Revolution  in  Rome,  vii.  162.  Omens  of, 
yiii.  489,  490. 

Rhat/agaisus  inyades  Italy,  i.  145.  His 
defeat  and  death.  146,  146. 

Rheims,  wealth  and  importance  of,  i.  402. 


652 


INDEX. 


Bkrimu.  Coandl  of.  depoan  AnmlC  fii. 
a09.  CoaDcilof.251.  Its  dccivcs,  255. 
OoaneU  of,  hr.  133. 160. 

Bkydmu^  Uie,  ymi.  23.0. 

Bukard,  Coaot  of  Aneona,  his  erael 
dmth,  iT.  456. 

RUkard  Coear  de  Udd,  It.  447.  His  in- 
pricoomeut,  4til.  Protects  Otho,  496. 
Maktti  pcMe  with  France.  514.  His 
aliiuice  with  luDUoeat  III..  ▼.  14. 
His  death.  14. 

Rinard  II..  bis  ar cession,  vii.  819. 

Kirkarrf  of  Cornwall  elected  Emperor,  Ti. 
4».     lli$  death,  126. 

Rienzi.  at  ATiznoD.  Tii.  188.  155.  His 
•tor/  of  his  birth.  151.  Uts  carlj  iiis- 
tort'.  154.  Hi!«  >etter  to  Rome.  156. 
His  poTertv.  157.  CompUins  of  state 
of  Rome.  158.  His  dissimuhtion.  169. 
His  allegorical  pictures.  160.  Revola- 
ttonisH  Rome.  162.  Laws  of.  168.  D»- 
•cribes  his  soe^tss.  165.  His  justice, 
166.  Power,  167.  Tiacs,  169.  Respect 
fur  the  Church.  170.  The  height  of  his 
power,  171.  His  proclamation,  172; 
and  coronation,  178.  Propbecv  of  his 
fUl.  178.  His  ostontatkm,  174.  Ar- 
rests the  nobles — restores  them.  176. 
177.  His  Tlctory  over  Coloooas.  179. 
His  desponilf  Dcv,  180  Dennauced  bj 
Pope.  181.  Hi*  abdication.  182.  Ftiffht, 
183;  aud  retrvat  among  the  FiatieeUi, 
184.  Goes  to  l^ragrne,  186.  His  inter- 
Tiews  with  i.'iiarle8  I .  .,  187.  Impris- 
oned —  letter  of.  188.  Letter  to  Areh- 
bishop  of  Prague,  190.  Doubtful  mo* 
tiTes.  192.  Sent  prisoner  to  ATignon 
—  Petrarch's  opinion  of,  194.  His  trial 
and  imprisonment.  195.  Sent  to  Rome. 
205.  Made  Senator,  206.  Uts  capri- 
eiooa  rule.  206 ;  and  murder,  207 

Ripon,  church  at.  U.  209. 

Ripueriwa  law,  i.  517. 

Ritua\  T.  231. 

**  Robber  Synod."    See  Epbesns. 

Robert^  King  of  France,  his  snbmlsdon 
to  the  Chnreb,  iii.  390. 

Robert  of  France,  Pope  Gregory  oflers 
Imperial  crown  to,  t.  436. 

Robert,  King  of  Naples,  vi.  518.  Vicar  of 
Italy.  Til.  72.    Bcsi«gce  Ostia,  106. 

RodotJ  the  Norman,  iii.  226. 

Roflo'lph  of  Hapsburg  elected  Bmperor, 
¥i.l27.  His  gifU  to  Roman  church,  138. 

Roe*'r.  King  of  Sicilv,  upholds  Anaeletus 
II.,  iT  172.  His'wars  with  Innocent 
II.,  178. 

Ro^tr,  Archbishop  of  York,  an  enemy  of 
Becket,  iv.  313.  Made  Papal  Legate, 
311.  At  Northampton.  348.  Ambas- 
sador to  Louis  VU.,  354.  To  Pope  AWz- 
ander,  857.  t'rowns  Prince  Henry,  400. 
Suspended  by  Pope.  405.  Justifies 
murder  of  Beeket,  417. 


In- 


Rstemrf,  a  priest,  dclHen  to  IV>|ie  Oiqtw  ■ 
YU.  Henry  IV.'s  letter.  It.  484. 

Remagna,  tranqafllity  of.  under  TTinnlsi 
v.,  Tiii.  107. 

Remam  Bwfaop.  obaemily  of.  I.  80,  96. 
Abwiice    of   from    Cooncils,    99,   101. 
Greatness  after   leatwathm  of 
162.    Imperial  character  of,  168. 
diflereat    to   desUuctkm    of    W« 
Empire.  314. 

Roman  buildingB  restored  by 
i.410. 

Roman  ChiistiattS,  thetr  wealth  and 
bounty .  i.  53. 

Romam  chnrch.  its  Importance.  I.  57. 
The  centre  of  Christeadoa,  and  of  aU 
eontrofvrxies.  58,  50.  Centre  of  here- 
Fies.  59.  IMscord  in.  68.  CooipoMtinu 
of.  74.  Intereonrse  with  C^rtluce.  81. 
Subsequent  dLspnte.  88.  hnprMn.c^ 
of.  acknowledged  by  Cyprian.  89.  Head 
of  IVestem  cbnirbcs,  97.  Free  from 
speeulative  di«oord.  98.  Supports  Atha- 
nasiu^,  luO.  lu  decline  <^  Euipire,  IIS. 
Teneration  for,  128.  Growth  of  its  sa- 
preuiarx ,  129.  i<iieataggreMon  oC  130. 
Appeals  to.  135.  138.  Appealed  to  oo 
Pelagian  quexlioo.  177.  ^Vherein  its 
power  consisted.  179.  StrengtiieBed 
by  Eastern  contrntioos.  219r  Its  sa- 
premacy  over  Illyricom.  279.  Caom 
of  ite  strength,  297.  Remains  — aofo 
goremment  of  Rome,  807.  Power  of, 
in  absence  of  Eiuperor.  471.  Organic 
tton  of.  ii.  66.  Itn  estotm.  67.  Talna 
of  \Xa  prraerty,  69.  Infloence  of  in 
EngUnd.  200.  Deooanced  by  Fkaacia- 
can  prophets.  tU.  83,  3S,  43.  Sm  9mr 
pacy. 

Roman  conquest  of  Petra,  ii.  112. 

Roman  demagogues.  Tiii.  114. 

Roman  dominkw  of  Ganl,  Tiii.  360. 

Roman  Empire.  diTision  of.  i.  96.  State 
of  at  aceesaon  of  Leo  the  Great,  266. 

Roman  law  aflected  by  ChristianitT.  i. 
479.  Required  cons^hdation,  484. '  At- 
tempts to  organiae,  436.  Recogitiare 
slarery,  491. 

Roman  lilb.  cnrloas  pictnre  of.  1.  76. 

Roman  mmals,  their  corrupt  state — ^Ten- 
tonic  inflnenee  on.  i.  890. 

Roman  people,  character  of,  Til.  174. 

Roman  power  nrires  ander  Justinian.  1. 
449. 

Roman  snpieniasy,  qneation  of.  I.  824. 

Roman  territory,  depiedatloiu  of 
in,  iU.86. 

Romeuut  of  the  Rose.  Ti.  75. 

JSoinoaer  poetrr,  Tiii.  867. 
381. 

Romanesque     architectme.     TiH. 
Transalpine.  486 

AoiwaiM  welcome  Relisarins,  i.  461.    De- 
of  by    Mohamowdans,   H.    Ui. 


INDEX. 


558 


soMAinn. 

fUebfbl  to  Gregory  TIT.,  iii.  487.  Te- 
Bolity  of,  491.  Surrendtirt  4d8.  Rise 
ngainst  Normans,  4iM.  Rise  sgainfft 
Germans,  iT.  104.  Their  war  with 
Henry  V.,  106.  Quarrel  with  Paschal 
II.,  121.  lUae  H){aiiist  Innocent  II., 
MO.  Inyite  Bmperor  Conrad,  240. 
Defend  Bouwagaiust  Lucius  11.,  248. 
Rnibassy  to  FrMlerick  Birbnros^k.  271. 
Raise  cuuiuit — suppre-Md  by  Vreder- 
iclc  Barbarossa,  278.  DeftHiUKi  by  troops 
of  Frederick.  429.  Tiieir  rebellion  and 
insolence,  489.  Procure  de:< traction  of 
Tusculuui,  440.  iiifie  aJ{uin^t  Otho  IV., 
428.  Agsinst  Orejirory  IX.,  y.  845. 
Fickleness  of — their  enmity  to  Viter- 
bo,  404.  Rebel  ngainst  Gregory  IX., 
406.  Submit,  407.  Demand  a  Uoman 
Pope,  Til.  280. 

Romanus.  governor  of  Boura,  his  treach- 
ery and  apostasy,  ii.  156. 

Rome,  the  churcu  in,  was  origlually 
Greek,  i.  54.  Influence  of  the  name  of. 
188.  Siege  of  by  Alaric,  149.  Capitu- 
lates. 150.  Admits  AttalUH,  152.  Third 
riege  of,  and  capture,  158.  Sack  of, 
154.  BlitigHted  by  Christianity,  155, 
167.  Kemaios  Christian  —  reHtoration 
of,  161.  Destruction  of  was  partiil  — 
oapture  of  tended  to  Papal  greatness, 
161,  162.  Rumored  conspiracies  in, 
484.  Second  capture  by  Goths,  472. 
Ecclesiastical  snpremaey  of,  544.    Ap- 

{leuls  to,  546.  Plague  and  famine  at, 
i.  52.  State  of,  at  Gregory's  accerdnn, 
78.  Ingratitude  of  to  Gregory,  87. 
(*onncils  at,  condemn  Iconoelnsm.  ii. 
881, 888.  Anarchy  and  cruelties  in,  488. 
Unsettled  state  of,  iii.  158.  Attempted 
republicanism  in,  183-186.  Papal,  tur- 
bulence of,  ii.  511,  518.  Thn>atened 
by  Saracens,  iii.  84.  Siege  of,  by  Ilen- 
ry  IV.,  487.  Surrendered,  492.  Sur- 
prised and  burnt  by  Normans,  494. 
Repohlic  in.  iv.  289,  245.  Its  end,  265. 
Plaiced  under  interdict,  265.  Venality 
of,  428.  Pestilence  at.  480.  State  of  at 
accession  of  Innocent  III. —  submis- 
sion of,  478.  Feuds  in,  474.  War  with 
Viterbo,  476.  Anarchy  in,  478.  Ra- 
pacity of,  V.  86.  Takes  part  of  Conra- 
din,  yi.  111.  Dante  on  luiperial  desti- 
ny of,  521.  Deserted  by  Popes,  vii.  16, 
150.  Calls  on  John  XXll.  to  return, 
98.  Admits  Louis  of  Bavaria,  96.  Ri- 
ensi's  revolution  in,  162.  Submits  to 
Pope,  207.  Its  increasing  estrange- 
ment, 218.  Return  of  Pope  to,  217. 
Tumultuous  conclave  at,  228.  Pro- 
eeedings  in,  281, 232.  Disturbances  in, 
276,298.  Connril  of  (John  XXIII.)  — 
Incident  at,  885.  Pillaged  by  Neapol- 
itans. 888.  Miserable  condition  of 
(Martin  V.),  528.     Uises  against  £uge- 


SABAOHB. 

ttius  lY.,  664.  Centre  of  art  and  let- 
ters, viii.  126.  Architecture  of,  412. 
Churches  of.  416.  Christian  arefaitee- 
ture  unknown  in,  486. 

Rosetlin^  Nominalistic  doctrines  of,  It. 
191. 

Aojh',  the  Golden,  vii.  464. 

Rotharis^  i.  617. 

Rothroff,  Bishop  of  Soissons,  iii.  65.  Ap- 
pealK  against  Ui.icmar,  65. 

Rudolf  \U.  of  Burgundy,  iii.  227. 

Rudolph  of  Swabia,  rival  of  Henry  IV., 
ill.  466.  Blectpd  — crowned  at  Ments, 
468.  Low  state  of  his  aflEurs,  477.  Ac- 
knowledged king  by  Pope,  481.  His 
death,  484. 

Rule  of  St.  Francis,  t.  272. 

Russian  prelates  at  Florence,  viii.  89 

Rustand,  legate  in  Bngland,  vi.  48. 


S. 


Saaz,  batUe  of,  vii.  546. 

Sabellius,  I  78. 

SabiMtanuSy  Pope,  accuses  Gregory  I.  of 
waste,  ii.  262;  and  of  Iconoclasm,  268. 
His  deatli,  264. 

Sacrrdotal  nierarchy,  viii.  195. 

SagareUij  Gerard,  *of  Parma,  his  imita- 
tion of  the  Apostles,  vii.  88.  His  ex- 
travagances, ^.  Burnt  —  strange  ae- 
count  of,  40,  41. 

iSaintSj  their  protecting  power,  ii.  96. 
Belief  in.  viii.  204.  Deification  of,  205. 
Calendar  of,  209 ;  of  the  East  and  West, 
210.  General  and  local,  212.  National, 
213.  Festivals  of—  legends  of,  215. 
Lives  of,  versified.  808.  Buildings  in 
honor  of,  426. 

Sanset.  Papal  legate  in  France,  character 
of,  vi  805.  Arraigned,  808.  Impris- 
oned, 810. 

SaladtHy  iv.  444. 

Salerno  betrays  Empress  Constantia,  )t. 
450.    Punished  by  Henry  VI.,  464. 

Salic  law,  i.  619 ;  vii.  22. 

Salvian  on  chastity  of  the  Teutons,  i. 
892. 

Saneho,  King  of  Navarre,  v.  66. 

Sanction,  Pragmatic.  See  Pragmatic 
Sanction. 

Sia.  Sophia,  church  of,  viii.  418. 

Saracen  ladies  in  court  of  Frederick  II., 
v.88a. 

Saracens  defeated  by  Leo  the  Armenian, 
ii.  856.  Wars  of  with  Theophilus.  866. 
Invade  Italy,  iii.  18-  Threaten  Rome, 
84.  Dread  of,  86.  Their  stronghold  on 
the  Garigliano,  161.  Driven  out  by 
Pope  John  X.,  168.  In  South  Italy, 
276.  Chivalry  of,  iv.  60.  In  Sicily, 
489.  At  Capua,  v.  874.  In  Manfred's 
service,  vi.  91. 


554 


INDEX. 


■AIMOA. 

SanHm.  Coancil  of.  I.  101.    ErtabHdwa 

wgf^fmU  to  Boai«,  130. 
Sardinia,    raeowred  from  8ax»Deni,  BL 

228.    Affiin  of,  t.  448. 
Snrzana^  Thonuui  of.     Stt  Nieolu  V. 
Satiric  poetry.  monUib,  Tiii.  324.    Bw- 

nentnoM  of,  iB&. 
SoMtree,  ITillUai,  IfjcUfflte  martyr,  Til. 

412. 
Sarona^  meetiogof  fival  Popes  appoint- 
ed   at.    yiL    2M.      DeUyN    regardiof, 

901. 
Saxon    vara    of  Charlemax^e*    U-  472, 

475.      Their    bloody    character^   476. 

Were  relixions  warn,  480.     Primner^ 

eMape  ot,  iii.  443. 
Saxons,  iieTere  laws  of  agiinst  nnehaa* 

ttty,  i.  581.      Their  coaotry,  ii.  473. 

Their  enmity  to  the  Franlc.«,  474.     Bad 

reception  of    miavionaries,  475.     Be- 

•l«tance  to  Charlema^nie*  478.     Cou- 

Bnlaory  oonTersion,  480.  Bevolt  against 
[enry  IT.,  III.  401.  Their  declaration, 
405.  Defeated  at  UohenbuiSi  406. 
Their  sacrilege  at  fl&rtxbui|f,  400. 
Their  treaty  with  Henry  V.,  ir.  142. 

Sfrinko^  Archbishop  of  Prague,  rednts 
Unas,  tU.  480.  Bams  WycUOe's  books, 
441. 

SehaffhoMsen^  Pope  John  XXIII.  at,  iT. 
472. 

Sehum  of  tort/  years,  I.  831.  Its  cloee, 
481. 

Sckwn.  Papal.  Ui.  828 ;  ir.  201 ;  rii.  244. 
Terminated,  ir.  486.  Peraeentlons 
dnrinc,  tU.  264.  Attempts  to  termi- 
nate. 278,  270.  Sentence  ot  Coancil 
of  PiM  on,  817.  IndiCbrence  to,  Tiii. 
61. 

Srhlirk,  Caspar,  tUI.  88. 

SekotastieiMtn^  Tiii.  284.  UUn,  285; 
and  Mysticism,   240.      Great   en  of, 

253.  Unprofitableness,  257.  Tenden- 
cy to  Pantheism,  270.  Its  daration, 
206. 

SchoolnuA,  Ti.  76;  Tiii.  236.    FIts  great. 

254.  All  Mendicants,  265.  Their  ti- 
tles, 256. 

Schools  at  Athens  snppressed  by  Jus- 
tinian, i.  458.  Monastery,  It.  180. 
English.  Til.  855. 

Scotastita,  St.,  sister  of  Benedict,  ii.  25. 
Her  death,  84. 

Seotisu  and  Thomists,  Tiii.  280. 

Scotland,  resists  Edward  I.,  tI.  277.  Ap- 
Mals  to  Pope.  270.  Claimed  as  fief  by 
Pope,  281.  Claims  of  England  upon. 
204 .  Arrest  of  Templars  in,  456 ;  their 
examination.  468.  .fineas  SylTius's  ac- 
count of,  Till.  60. 

SeotMj  reply  to  claims  of  Edward  I..  Ti. 
207.  Abandoned  by  Pope  and  French 
King.  200. 

Scott,  Michael,  Till.  250. 


Seottiy  their  fcods  at  Boos*,  ir.  %a 
Scottish  clergy,  tbcir  da^aie  with  ■•» 

mans,  ii.  196. 
Seotus,  John.     See  Duna  fleotoa. 
Scmipttnr,  advance  of  nnder  Jfinbm  T^ 

Tiii.  120.    Christian,  4BL    Bare  in  tha 

Siist,  454.  Proaeribed  in  Oreek  Chareh, 

455.    Christian,  in  ttia  West,  456^    Ar- 

chitectanl.  457.     Rodeoess   o^   468. 

Monnmental.  49).  In  wood.  471. 
Sertarianism.  time  of  Innorwit  IH..  T. 

134.  Its  principle  of  nuioa.  135. 
S^rts  !•■  early  Christendom,  iii.  257. 
Sfcnlar  clerg> .  strile  of  with  moak».  iis. 

335;    39S.    Their  resistance    to  Dnn- 

stao.  385.    (Fiaoee),  dispute  with  61- 

•r*.  Ti.  78. 
StljukioHS.     See  Turks. 
Semi-  Pe'a^ian    rontroTersy , 

with  modentioo,  i.  108. 
Semi-Pelagianism,   i.   185. 

Oaut  under  Cassianua,  ISO. 

of,  198. 
Senatorship  of  Rome,  tL  141. 
Sens.  Connril  of.  iT.  218. 
**  Sente$ues  ■'  of    Peter 


ii 


Doel 


Seresui.  widow  of  StSUcbo,  pat  to  death, 

i.  m 

Serfdom,  t.  888. 

SnTgitu,  Bishop  of  Gonsfandnople,  etuto 
the  qnestimi  of  Hoootbelitism,  ii.  287. 
Pope.  287.  Rfpjccts  QniniaeztaB  Coan- 
cil, 288.     His  death,  280. 

Sergiu*  II..  Pope,  iii.  16. 

Sergiu*  UI.,  taltes  refuge  in  Tnscaqy, 
iii.  155.  Depoaes  Christopher  and  be- 
comes Pope,  157.  Obscurity  of  hk 
Papacy  —alleged  Tices.  158. 

Serglus  lY.,  Pope.  iii.  222. 

Sergius,  Duke  of  Naplefl.  his  leagne  with 
Sarareiis,  iii.  88.  Betrayed — his  mie- 
erable  d<nith,  88. 

Serpent,  symbol  of  Satan,  Tiii.  201. 

Srreice*.  Greek  and  Latin,  difiereaee  oil 
Tiii.  422. 

Sf^verinus,  Pope,  condemns  MonotheUt- 
ism,  ii.  71. 

Severus,  his  riots  in  Constantinople,  i. 
838.  Mide  Binhop  of  Antiocb,  810. 
Degmde^l.  430. 

Sew<ii^  Arc jbishop  of  York,  Ti.  44. 

Sforza,  LudoTico,  Tii.  626. 

S/orza,  Fraucb,  Tiii.  104.  Doke  of 
Milan.  105. 

Shepherds.  French  insuigenta.    See 
toureaux. 

"  SU  et  Non  "  of  Ab4Iard,  It.  224. 

Sieilian  exiles,  Ti.  148.    VespeiSj  156^ 

Sirilians  excluded  Crom  Jubilee.  Ti. 

Sicily,  Oriental  manners  in.  t. 
Discontent  of  against  Fren:h,  tI.  146. 
Insumction  in,  156.  Crusade  pro- 
claimed against,  150.    Allain  of  (I 


INDEX. 


565 


flOMnUID. 

of  Boni&ce  Tin.)i  216.  Resolute  in- 
-dependeDce  of,  218.  War  of,  219. 
Italian  language  in,  riii.  810.  King- 
dom of,  see  Naples. 

Siegjried^  Archbishop  of  Mentx,  ill.  411. 
Calls  synod  at  Krfhrt,  418.  Uis  flight, 
414.  Calls  synod  at  Hents  —  intimi- 
dated, 419. 

Siegfried^  Papal  Archbishop  of  Mcnts, 
i¥.  518.  Publishes  excommunication 
of  Otho  IV.,  590.  681. 

Siennuy  viii.  109. 

Sienna^  Council  at,  tH.  5%.  iEneas 
Silvius,  Bishop  of,  yiii.  109. 

Stgnmund^  Emperor,  character  of,  tU. 
839.  laterriew  with  John  XXIII., 
843.  Invites  Uuss  to  Constance,  448. 
Arrires  at  Constance,  448.  Ills  pover- 
ty, 450.  Abandons  lltiss,  455.  ISz- 
ooses  for,  456.  Detains  Pope.  465. 
Interview  with  Pope,  467.  Ills  em- 
barrassment in  the  matter  of  Hoss, 
484.  Uis  declaration  against  Huss, 
491.  Uis  ^[>ology  to  Bohemians.  500. 
His  contest  with  Cardinals,  512.  Takes 
leave  of  Council  of  Constance.  £22. 
Succeeds  to  Bohemian  crown.  544.  In- 
surrection and  war  against,  545.  Ne- 
gotiates with  Bohemians,  549.  His 
Srogress  through  Italy,  557.  At 
i«nna.  558.  His  coronation,  561.  At 
Council  of  Basle,  562.  Decline  of  his 
power,  565.    Uis  death,  viii*.  83,  84. 

SUoeriuSy  Pope,  son  of  Hormisdas,  i. 
461.  D^raded  by  Theodora — appeals 
to  Justinian,  468.  Returns  to  Rome — 
his  banishment  and  death,  464. 

SiloesteTf  Pope,  i.  94.  Donation  of  Con- 
stantine  to,  95. 

Silvester  II.     See  Oerbert. 

Simeon  Stylites  applied  to  by  Theo- 
dosius,  i.  247.  His  sanctity.  818. 
Death  and  fUneral  at  Antioch,  8x9. 

Simon  de  Montfort  takes  the  Cross,  y. 
86.  AtZ»ra,96.  Leaves  the  army,  102. 
Leads  Crusade  against  heretics,  187. 
Invested  with  conquered  lands,  190. 
His  power,  200.  Uis  character,  200. 
Takes  Lavaur,  208.  His  sovereignty, 
205.  Gains  victory  at  Muret,  208. 
Chosen  King  of  Languedoc — reaction 
against — war  with  young  Raymond, 

218.  Suppresses  risings  in  Toulouse, 

219.  Besieges  TouIoum,  220-  Is  slain, 
221. 

Simon  de  Hontfort,  Earl  of  Leicester, 
excommunicated,  vi.  88.  His  death 
— a  popiilar  saint,  101, 102. 

Simon  of  Toumay,  viii.  247 

fiSimony,  measures  against,  iii.  287. 
Prevalence  of,  244.  Caused  by  wealth 
and  power  of  Church,  870.  Tendii  to 
impoverish  the  Church,  873.  Papal, 
vii.  270. 


£^'mp/»eiK5, '  Pope  at  extinction  of  Ro- 
man Empire,  i.  814.  Remonstrates 
against  Acacius,  326.    Death  of,  827. 

SirieiuSy  Pope,  issues  the  first  Decretal, 
i.  119. 

Sixiust  Pope,  i.  250. 

Slavfrtf  recognised  by  Justinian,  i.  491. 
Regulations  concerning  —  previous 
mitigations  of,  498.  Under  barbaric 
laws,  527.  Gradually  changed  to  serf- 
dom, 582. 

Staves^  their  llfSs  and  person  protected, 
i.  498.  Marriages  of,  494.  Trade  in 
was  legal,  435.  Marriages  of  under 
Barbaric  law,  528.  Their  lives  unpro- 
tected, 530.  Runaway  —  emancipation 
of,  582. 

Slavian  language  used  in  eharebcs,  iii. 
124. 

Soissons^  election  of  Pepin  at,  ii.  418. 
Council  of,  condemns  Ab^tard,  iv.  205. 
Council  of,  553. 

Sopkronius^  Bishop  of  Jerusalem,  capit- 
ulates to  Mohammedans,  U.  158.  Re- 
si.<fts  Monothelitism,  270. 

Spainj  unsettled  state  of  in  5th  century, 
1.  276.  MonasticiRm  in,  ii.  21.  Con- 
verted flrom  Ariauism,  64,  65.  And 
France,  birthplace  of  chivalry,  iv.  55. 
Innocent  III.'s  measures  in,  v.  60. 
Aflkirs  of  (time  of  Clement  IV.),  vi. 
106.  Acquittal  of  Templars  in,  471. 
Church  in,  viii.  175. 

Spanish  Bishops  among  the  Lapsi,  i.  90- 

&>eetades  at  Rome  under  Theodorio,  i. 
411. 

Spencer^  Bishop  of  Norwich,  his  crusade 
in  Flanders,  vii.  397. 

Spires,  Diet  at,  vi.  512 ;  vii.  87. 

^iritucUists^  vii.  27.  Prophecies  of.  29, 
88.  Avow  the  ''  Eternal  Gospel,"  81. 
Followers  of  Coelestine  V.,  82.  Perse- 
cuted by  John  XXII.,  65.  For  Em- 
peror against  Pope,  82. 

Squino  di  Florian  professes  to  tell  secrets 
of  Templars,  vi.  396.  His  monstrous 
chains,  397. 

'<  Stabat  Mater,"  viii.  809. 

States  General .    See  Parliament.  Freiieh . 

Statms  in  churches,  viii.  458.  De- 
stroyed by  Crusaders,  456. 

Statutes  of  Toulouiw,  v.  225. 

Stedinger,  heresy  of,  v.  401. 

Stephaniay  widow  of  Crescentius,  poisons 
Otho  III.,  iU.  218. 

Stephen,  Pope,  his  dispute  with  Cyprian 
—  with  Firmilian,  i.  88.  His  lenity  to 
Spanish  Bishops,  90. 

Stephen  II.,  Pope,  treats  with  Astolph, 
ii.  417.  Applies  for  aid  to  Constanti- 
nople—  sets  out  for  France,  418.  Is 
met  by  Prince  Chiirles.  419.  ObtainM 
promiw  of  aid  agiiinst  Lombards,  420. 
Anoiiitd  Pepin  and  his  sons,  420.    Atr 


666 


IKPKX. 


«Mk«d  \m  Rom«  by  Astolph,  422.    His 

Mton  to  P«pia,  4^  424. 
Sttphgn  III.,  l\>p«,  cruvltle*  at  his  else- 

tioo,  U.  488.    VaoUoiM  In  his  Popedon, 

484.      Supported  by  Lombards,  435. 

KttDioutftratM   agalust   Cliarlemagiie's 

niarria^,  489. 
St€pk»»  XV.,  Foptt,  fliss  from  Borne,  ii. 

618.  Crowns  Louis  the  Pioas  at  Ilhelms, 

Stephen  V.,  Pope,  iil.  105. 

St4pkin  VI.,  Pope,  insults  rsnains  of 
Vormosus,  ill.  110.  Btrangled  in  pris- 
on, 111. 

Sievhen  IX.  (Frederick  of  Lorraine),  Ul. 
249.  Vlies  from  Henry  III.,  286.  Be- 
stored  bv  Pope  Victor  II.  —  Abbot  of 
Monte  Casino,  289.  Pope,  his  high 
language  at  Constantinople.  291.  De- 
nounces Patriarch.  292.  His  plans 
against  Normans,  293.    His  death,  294. 

Stephen^  King,  war  of  with  Matilda,  It. 

SfepheH,  St.,  King  of  Hungary,  ilL  271. 

Stephen,  the  monk,  denounces  loono- 
dasm,  ii.  884.  Imprisoned  and  mur- 
dered, 834. 

Siigand,  Saxon  Archbishop,  deposed  by 
IVillfaun  the  Conqueror,  It.  801. 

''  Stigmata'^  of  St.  Francis,  y.  268. 

Stilieho  defeats  Alario.  i.  144  ;  and  Uia- 
dagaisus.  145.  His  di»mee  and  death, 
14o.  His  memory  blackened,  147. 
Consequences  of  his  death,  148. 

Strasburg,  religious  contests  in.  Tiii.  896. 
Resistance  to  Pope  in,  408. 

Stratford,  Arehbiihop  of  Canterbury,  Tii. 
852. 

Straw,  Jack,  vli.  887,  888. 

Sturmiy  a  follower  of  St.  Bonilkee,  jour- 
ney of,  ii.  257.  Founds  monastery  at 
Fulda,  268. 

SMriaeo^  monasteries  of,  ii.  27. 

Subsidiee  of  rleigy,  wi.  254. 

Subsidies  to  Mendicanto,  Tiii.  167. 

Sueeution^  principles  of.  unsettled,  ii.  410. 

Sudbury,  Simon  de.  Archbishop,  behead- 
ed by  in^urg«nu,  vii.  886. 

Suffrage,  right  of  at  Councils,  Tii.  468. 

Suger,  of  8t.  Denys,  minister  of  French 
Kings,  ir.  266.  His  early  lift.  267. 
Regent  of  France  —  his  death,  259. 

"  Sum  of  Theology,"  riii.  267. 

Suputo,  Reginald  di,  attacks  Pope  Booi- 
fiioo  VIII.  at  Anagnl,  Ti.  852.    Colleets 
486. 


Skpremacjf  of  Bmperor  OTer  Church,  i. 
482.  Of  barbarian  kings.  488.  Spiritr 
ual  and  Feudal,  Ti.  818, 828.  Of  Bo. 
man  Chureh,  see  Roman  Church. 

Sweden,  Christianity  in,  iii.  189.  Par- 
tial ctmTcrsion  ot,  141. 

Symbolism  of  Oothio  architeotare,  Tiii. 
447. 


Symmaekus^  heathen  orator,  i.  1S8. 

SjfmmaeJui*,  son  of  tho  aboTo,  Pivfcpt 
of  Rorae,  f .  1S6. 

SymmaekMS,  Pope,  atrift  at  his  election, 
i.  860,  416.  His  iaTeeUve  against  Ba- 
peror  Anastasios,  8&L  Conflnard 
by  Theodoric.  418.  Accusations 
against,  419.  Acquitted,  421.  Dmtii 
of.  428. 

Symmackms,  chief  of  the  Senate,  i.  448. 
Put  to  death  by  Theodoric,  444 

Syria  becomes  Mohammedan,  ii.  163. 
Eaqr  conquest  of,  153. 

Syrian  Bishops,  at  Ephesus,  i.  287. 
Condemn  proceedings  of  Cyril  and  tha 
minority,  288.  At  Chatoedon,  218. 
Synods  of,  247.  Their  treaty  with  Cy- 
ril, 248.    Resist  John  of  Andoch,  a»> 

SynnndmSf  riii.  28. 


T. 


Taass,  battle  of;  tU.  640. 

Tabor,  in  Bohemia,  Tiii.  106. 

'<  ro^oriles,''  Tii.  648,  647  ;  Tia.I10. 

Taeitus  compared  with  Dante,  Tiii.  818. 

Tagliaeaxzo^  battle  of,  Ti.  114. 

IhUeyrand,  Cardinal,  tU.  200. 

TkneheliHf  of  Antwerp,  t.  147. 

Tanered.  of  Sicily,  his  war  with  Haoty 
VI.,  iT.  460.  Beleaaes  Empress  Con- 
stantia,461.    Death  of.  458. 

21anuJiM,  Bishop  of  Constantinople,  IL 
844.  His  desiipis  in  fsTor  of  Imago- 
worsliip,  846. 

Tarsus,  Synod  of,  i.  247. 

TassUo,  his  mediUted  rsTolt,  it  46S. 
Imprtooned  in  a  monastery,  604. 

Tmder^  John,  Tiii.  897.  His  preachiM, 
400.  German  writiqgs,  402.  Death, 
404.    SennoDS,  406. 

Taxation  of  clergy,  t.  819. 

Ttmplan,  abuse  tneir  priTUegre,  t.  76. 
Oppose  Froderick  II.  in  Palestine.  860. 
Origin  and  history  of,  Ti.  884  Their 
priTileges  and  immunities.  885,  886l 
Their  independence  and  rivalry  with 
Knights  of  St.  John,  887.  Their  Tk«s, 
888.  889.  Retain  power  after  loss  x^ 
Palestine,  889.  Wealth  of,  894.  Arru- 
•ations  against,  897.  (In  France)  mon- 
•tioos  ehams  against.  897.  Sudden 
arrest  of,  888.  Trial  by  tortnrs  408. 
Confessions,  404.  Qnesttoos  put  to, 
406.  Amst  of  in  Bnglaud.  412.  In 
Naples,  412.  Jealousy  of,  416.  Bz- 
amined  by  Pope  Clement  V..  419. 
Cited  bifors  CommissioneTV  at  Paris, 
428.  Brought  fkom  the  proTinccs,  4S. 
Asked  if  they  will  defend  the  Onler— 
their  Implies,  488,  481.  Proceedii«a  of 
court  against.  485.  442.  Treated  aa  re- 
lapsed  heretics,  445.    Many  burned  to 


INDEX. 


66T 


9. 


dnth,  446.  Bnrned  in  the  prorlnees, 
448.  CwifeMions,  450.  Rasaltofeon- 
fttsions,  461.  Armt  of  in  Bngland 
and  Scotland,  456.  Examination  in 
Sngland,  466.  Nothing  proved  againit 
tbe  Order,  467.  Witnenee  against,  467. 
Strange  eyidence,  469-464.  Conftining 
witneaeee,  466.  Sentences  upon  in 
England — examination  of  in  Scotland 
and  Ireland,  468.  In  Italy,  468.  In 
Spain.  471.  In  Germany,  tbeir  protMt 
aud  acquittal,  472.  Difflcolty  of  ques- 
tion of  their  guilt,  478.  Bridence 
Hgainst  worthless,  476.  Charges  against 
improbable,  477.  Were  sacrificed  for 
tbeir  wealth,  479.  Their  lands  given 
to  Hospitallers,  480.  The  Order  abol- 
ished, 481.  Abolition  eooflrmed  at 
Council  of  Vieitne,  506.  Commission  on 
great  dignitaries  of,  625. 

ThnpU  at  Paris,  tI.  898. 

TtnanU  of  Church  lands,  Till.  164. 

Tenths^  leried  by  Oregory  XI.,  tU.  201. 

Termes^  capture  of,  t.  196. 

TertiartfSy  Dominican,  t.  250.  Francis- 
can, 266. 

TertitUian^  the  first  great  Christian  writer 
in  Latin,  i.  57.  Adopts  Montanism, 
70. 

Ikulonie  eharacter,  i.  866.  Was  eoD* 
genial  to  Chrl«tiauity,  857. 

Teutonie  Christianity,  i.  28.  Asserts  in- 
dividual  rpsponsibility ,  29.  Tendencies 
of,  viil.  608.    Its  future,  606. 

Teutonic  Bmplre.     See  Empire. 

Teutonic  languaj^es,  viii.  860.  Religious 
terms  derived  from,  861. 

Teutonic  nations,  tbeir  religion,  i.  857. 
Their  human  sacrifices,  8(>0.  Which 
were  common  to  all  the  tribes,  861. 
Animal  saerlfloes,  861. 

Teutonic  order,  vi.  585.  Origin  of,  685. 
Its  crusades  in  North  of  Germany,  636. 
Its  sovereignty,  688. 

Teutonic  painting,  viii.  485. 

Teutonic  rulers  of  Gaul,  viU.  851. 

Teutonitm,  improves  Roman  morals,  i. 
889.  Exoeptious  to  this,  894.  Disap- 
pears in  France,  viii.  852.  Opposed  to 
Roman  unity,  888.  In  Oennany,  891. 
Ita  independence,  601.  dubjective, 
602. 

Teutons^  rapid  conversion  of,  i.  856.  Tbeir 
sacred  groves,  862.  Belief  in  a  future 
state,  their  priests,  df{2.  Prophetesses, 
863.  Encounter  Christianity,  864.  Re- 
spect Roman  civilisation  and  the  clergy, 
866.  Converted  by  captives,  869.  Blend 
their  previous  notions  with  Christiani- 
ty, 370.  Their  successlvo  oonversion 
—  Arianism,  871.  Eflects  of  their  con- 
version, 889.  Their  eontioence,  891, 
882.  Their  ferocity  and  lieentiousDess 
i<i  Gaul,  894.     Become  corrupted  by 


suceefli,  896.  Hake  Christianity  bar- 
barous,  886.  Chrlstianisd  from  Rome, 
ii.  260. 

Thmddeus  i3€  Suessa,  Emperor's  envoy  at 
Lyons,  V.  474  His  speech,  476.  Coura- 
geous defence  of  Frederick  II.,  477. 
Taken  anil  Hiain  before  E^rina.  497. 

Tkeganf  historian  of  Louis  the  l*iou9.  de- 
nounces the  low-born  eiervy,  ii.  58^. 

Theobaidy  Archbishop,  tv.  806.  Patron 
of  you.ii;  Becket,  813.  Supports  Hen- 
ry II.,  816.    Dies,  321. 

Th^oeraetf  of  Gregory  VII.,  lii.  499. 

Tkeodelinda,  Queen  of  liombards,  ii.  80. 

Theodisc.  adviser  of  Innocent  III.,  v. 
194. 

Vieodora^  Bmpreos,  her  profligacy — in- 
fluence of,  i.  461.  Interferes  in  re- 
ligion, 452.  Supports  Anthimos,  462. 
Death  of,  467. 

l^eodota^  Empress  of  Theophilus,  ii.  862. 
Her  secret  image-worship,  887.  Em- 
press, 86B. 

Theodora  (of  Rome),  her  vloes,  Influenca 
in  disposal  of  Papacy,  iii.  168.  Ap- 
points John  X.,  160. 

Theodore  Lascaris,  v.  118. 

Theodorie,  his  war  with  Odoacer,  i.  408. 
King  of  Italy,  404.  Etideiivors  to  unite 
races  —  his  Roman  minit^ters,  406.  Di- 
vision of  lands,  407.  Bocouriiges  agri- 
culture, 408.  Peace  and  security  of 
his  reign,  400.  His  public  works,  410. 
Liberality,  411.  ExhiMto  spectacles, 
411,  418.  His  toleration,  412.  Im- 
partiality —  treats  Catholic  clergy  with 
respect,  418.  His  gifts  to  the  Church, 
414.  Decides  contested  Papal  election, 
417.  His  visit  to  Rome,  418.  Review 
of  his  sitnatk>n,  482.  Extent  of  hte 
power,  482.  Conspiracies  against  — 
protects  Jews,  434,  485.  Disarms  Ro- 
man population — state  of  his  family 

—  danger  of  his  kingdom,  436.  Corres- 
pondence with  Emperor  Justin,  439. 
Urges  toleration  of  Arlans  — sends 
Pope  John  ambassador  to  Constanti- 
nople, 440.  Imprisons  him  on  his  re- 
turn, 442.  Puts  to  death  Boethius 
and  Symmachus  —  the  latter  years  of 
his  reign,  444.  Appoints  Felix  Pope, 
446.  His  death,  447.  Tales  of  his  re- 
morse and  Ikte  after  death  —  his  tomb 
at  Ravenna,  447.  His  laws  Roman, 
615. 

Theodonu,  Pope,  anathematises  Pyrrhns. 
U.  274,  276. 

Theodorus,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  U. 
212.  Supersedes  WitfHd,  218.  His  re- 
morse and  death,  219.  Founds  a  Greek 
school  at  Canterbury,  224. 

Theodosius  II.,  i.  206.    Favors  Nestorlup 

—  rebukes  Cyril.  225  Summons  Coun- 
cil at  Epbestts,  226.    His  rescripts,  241. 


558 


INDEX. 


Sumnoiw  Ooaoeil  at  Chmleedon,  242. 
InTokM  aM  of  St.  SioMon  StyUtM,  247. 
Death  oC;2Q0. 

Tk*odotiu^  marrlea  and  pats  to  death 
Amalasttotha,  i.  466-  Uiii  MobaMjr  to 
CoaJtUntliiople,  450.    Hia  threao,  469. 

T%eologif  and  lletaphyriee,  Ir.  195. 

Tktologg^  monantic,  Tiii.  235.  And  pbi- 
loNopiiy.  237, 287.    Popular,  489. 

TJuophiimSy  noQ  of  Michael,  hb  marriage, 
ii.  aOO.  Character,  961.  Bfagniflcence, 
362.  Peraecutes  iniage-worshippertf, 
868.    Wan  with  the  Saraoens,  836. 

TheotgimJy  Archbishop  of  Treves,  iii.  46. 
Aooompaulet  Quather  of  Cologne  in 
exile,  ^. 

TlUutUrga.  Queen  of  Ix>thair  TI.,  di- 
Torced,  iii.  40.  Reinstated  bj  Papal 
legate,  58.  Prays  for  dissolution  of 
marriage,  65,  68. 

TkierrL,  lUog  of  Bnignndy.  his  vices,  ii. 
241.    BaniMbes  8t.  Colnmbu.  248. 

Thomas^  Christian  governor  of  rwtii>i.««^ 
defi9atof,ii.  156,157. 

Thomists  and  teodstA,  viii.  280. 

Tkorpe,  \rilllam,  tU.  416. 

Thwingia,  Ti«ited  by  St.  Bonilhoe,  U. 
2uO. 

Timotkeus  Allunu,  i.  815.  Rnks  Bmpcror 
Badliscus,  821. 

TimothetUf  Bishop  of  Constantinople,  i. 
839. 

Tithe*  granted  by  Charlemsgne,  U.  489. 
Original  institution  of,  TiU.  148. 

Titles^  ecclesiastical,  vera  Lstin,  viii. 
369. 

TivoU^  war  of  with  Roma— spand  by  In- 
nocent II..  It.  240. 

ToUtio,  council  of,  ii.  64. 

Tbrfure  continued  under  Justinian,  L  511. 
Applied  to  Templars,  ri.  402. 

Tsmsiue,  question  of  in  Kngland,  ii.  197. 

TotUa  takes  Home,  i.  472.  TisiU  St. 
Benedict,  ii.  88. 

T»to  selaes  Papacy,  ii.  482. 

Thutouse,  Uenry  II.  ^s  war  in,  ir.  818. 
Counts  of,  ▼.  162.  Bishopric  of,  170. 
Count  Raymond  of.  171.  Supports 
Count  Raymond,  200.  Civil  war  in, 
201.  urretidermi  to  Simon  de  Mont- 
fort,  209.  iUse«  sgsinst  De  Montfort  — 
betrayed  by  Bishop,  219.  Admite 
Count  RaymoDd — siege  of,  220.  Stat- 
utes of,  225.    Inquisition  of,  vi.  82. 

ToMTf,  wealth  and  importance  of,  i.  402. 
Battle  of.  ii.  385.    CouneU  of,  Iv.  827. 

TVncy,  William  de,  iv.  412. 

2>«;aa,  persecution  by,  L  58. 

Thuutaipime  architecture,  viii.  410.  Paint- 
ing,  484. 

Tratukuioiu  from  the  Greek,  viii.  128, 
124. 

TVansubstantiatiom,  term  first  used,  iii. 
260.    Question  of;  renewed  by  Beren- 


0ur,  474.  Its  importance  to  sacerdotal 
power,  476.  WydiSB's  opinions  oo. 
vii.  894.     Unss  questioned  upon,  487. 

Triai  by  battle,  i.  640. 

JViboHian,  a  reputed  atheist,  i.  490.  401. 

ZW6a(r,  diet  at,  iii.  446.  Its  dcclacatioa 
•gainst  Henry  IT..  447. 

Tribute,  Bnglish,  to  Rome,  discnsrioo  ow, 
tU.86;^ 

Trimitarian  contit>veisy.  i.  96. 

Triniiy,  Ab41ani^«  treatbe  on,  iv.  20^. 

Troubadours^  v.  168.    Priestly,  viU.  386. 

Trouvirt*,  viii.  806.    Northern.  856. 

Truce  of  God,  iv.  56.  Proclaimed  at 
Rheims,  18a 

Turaik  Shah,  Sultan  of  Bgypt,  captor  of 
St.  Louis,  vi.  26.    Murdered,  28. 

Turks,  masters  of  JeruMlem  — pefseeuta 
pilgrims,  iv.  28.  Victnrica  of.  viii.  IS, 
14.    Tkke  Constantiuople,  110. 

Tuseamy^  Marqulsate  of.  iii.  155.  In- 
vaded by  Heury  IT.,  490.  Dispatsd 
sueceitsion  to.  iv.  116,  484,  441. 

Tasca/ain,  Counts  of,  their  power  in  Pa- 
pal elections,  iii.  228,  224.  Bnmitj 
with  Rome,  iv.  428.  Dismantled  ^ 
Almnder  III.,  and  rribrtified,  482. 

Twtl/th  century,  epochs  in,  tv.  64.  B^ 
view  of —  its  great  men,  65,  66. 

Ttfeagc,  Robert,  resists  Roman  dataMi 
V.  818.  Carries  remonstnncas  t0 
Rome,  488. 

"  Type  ->  of  Xmperor  Constaas,  fl.  276. 
Condemned  by  Pope  Martin  I.,  277. 

IVvf,  MuBsm  Sylvius  in,  tU.  81. 


U,  ▼. 

l^coMtrs,  vil.  616. 

Fa^Nlmf'aa,  Emperor,  1.  107. 
appeals  to  Roman  Clbnreh,  188. 

YaUntiui^M,  III.  supports  Leo  the  Oreat, 
i.  275.  Flies  to  Rome  IhNB  AttUa,  801. 
Mnrdrred,  808. 

Fotia,  lAureotlut,  viU.  128. 

faloisy  house  of,  its  powur,  vl.  418, 611. 
Vail  of;  vil.  21. 

Vandeds  conquer  AfHea,  I.  268.  Sack 
Rome,  806. 

Foa  Eycks,  the,  vill.  486. 

VaiicM  built,  vi.  188.  Ubrarv,  vUi.  128. 
127. 

Venetiaiu,  nudsrtaka  eonveymnee  of  Cru- 
saders, V.  88.  Their  terma,  89.  At 
Zara,93.  Bxoooimunicated,  100.  IN*- 
regard  exoommnnieation,  100.  Di- 
vide churehei  of  Constantinople  with 
Franks.  109.  Appoint  the  Patriarch, 
110.    Their  address  to  Pope.  lis. 

Venice^  tmee  of,  Iv.  481.  Rise  or  v.  87. 
Advantages  secured  by,  127.  Was  no* 
an  arehiepisoopal  seat.  128.  Oar  com- 
meree — imports — works  of  art,  180. 


INDEX. 


559 


▼noiLLr. 

Voder  Interdiet,  tI.  618.  RweiTes 
Onwk  Buip«roraod  Patrfjirch,  Tiii.  26. 
Doge  of.  bis  lulTioe  to  Greek  Emperor, 
26.  Jtuftloofl  of  tlw  Church,  171.  St. 
Markka  at  421. 

VeretUi,  Council  of,  iii.  266.  Cathedral 
of,  Tlii.  444. 

Vernacular  languages  and  poetry,  ▼.  285, 
286.  Literature,  antiMcerdotal,  viii. 
885. 

Vespasian,  tablet  of.  rl\.  161. 

Vesprrs^  Siclli.in,  ri.  156. 

Vex f lay y  church  and  inonaaterr  of,  iy. 
868. 

Ugo  Kalcodi.     Sef  Clement  IY. 

U^olino„  Cardinal.     See  Oregory  IX. 

Vuema^  John  of,  a  frlir  preacher,  y.  448. 
Ilia  Kenuou  near  Verona,  446.  His 
political  conduct,  446,  446. 

Victory  St.  t  Hugo  de,  myaticiam  of,  tUI. 
240. 

Victor,  St.,  Richard  de,  Tiii.  241. 

Victor,  Pope,  i.  64.    Farora  Praxeas.  70. 

Ffctor  II.  (Oebhard  of  KichatAdt),  hia  in- 
fluence with  Henry  III.,  iii.  276.  Re- 
iuctiut  acceptance  of  Papacy,  2S5. 
Hoia.4  council  at  Florence,  287.  At- 
tempt on  hiii  life,  287.  Present  at 
death  of  Henry  III.  —  made  guardian 
to  his  son,  288.  His  power,  289.  Hia 
death,  290. 

Victor  III.,  Pope  (Desiderlua),  his  elec- 
tion, iii.  601.  His  reluctance,  608. 
Flies  from  Rome,  608.  Resumes  Pon- 
tificate, 606.  Holds  council  at  Bene- 
yento,  607.  Anathematises  Ouibert, 
607.    Death  of;  606. 

rtctor  IV.,  AnUpope,  ly.  288.  His  death, 
296. 

Vienne,  Council  of,  exeommunicatea  Hen- 
ry v.,  iy.  112.  Council  of,  yi.  604. 
Abolishes  Order  of  Templars,  606. 
Declares  innocence  of  Boniface  VIII., 
607.    Acts  of,  608. 

IHgUius,  his  compact  with  Theodora,  i. 
462.  Pope— embraces  Eutychianism, 
466.  At  Constantinople  —  hated  by 
Romans,  466.  His  absence  fortunate, 
466.  lUs  yadllation,  467.  468.  His 
sufferings,  469.  Submission  to  Jus- 
tiniiin,  and  death,  470. 

VilleharfJouiHy  concludes  treaty  with 
Venetians,  y  88. 

VineA,  Peter  de.  Chancellor  of  Bmperor 
Frederick  IT.,  y.  499.  His  disgrace  and 
death,  600. 

Virgin  Mary,  worship  of,  I.  204.    Its  ori- 

8 in,  205.    Importance  of,  ii.  68.    Del- 
ed, yiii.   187.    Head  of  saints,  205. 
Extravagant  worship  of,  207.    Immaoa- 
late  conception  of,  208. 
Visconti,  Matteo,  yii.  71.    Exoommunl- 

cated,  74.    His  death,  76. 
VUconti,  Qaleaao,  captures  Papal  gen- 


USBA5. 

eral,  yii.   78.     Excommunicated,    79. 
His  quarrel  with  Louis  of  Bavaria,  96. 
His  death.  108. 
Visconti,  Ulan  Galeano,  yii.  269.     Hto 
power  and  ambition,  276.    IUa  death, 

Viseontis  in  Milan,  yi.  616;  yii.  211.  In- 
teruiarry  with  France  and  England, 
211.  Ineffpctual  crusade  against,  212. 
Their  power,  221. 

Visigoth  Uw.  i.  618,  687.  Agiiinst  here- 
sy. 618. 

Visigoth  kings  supreme  oyer  Church,  1. 
621. 

Vitnlianus.  revolt  of,  i.  842-  Supported 
by  l*ope  Horuiisdas,  842.  Murdi^nrd  by 
Justinian,  481. 

Vitcdianus,  Pope,  ii.  281.  Hia  receptlou 
of  Emperor  Tonatans  —  his  dispute 
with  Ravenna,  282. 

ViteUesrhi.  John,  vii.  664. 

Viterbo,  subdued  by  Innocent  III.,  i%. 
476.  Hostility  of  Rome  to.  v.  404. 
Expels  Imperialists,  462.  Pupal  resi- 
dence, vi.  80.  81. 

Vivian,  Papal  legate,  iv.  889, 895. 

Uiphilas,  parentage  of — Bishop  of  the 
Ooths  —  uis  embassy  to  Valeus,  i.  872, 
878.  Becomes  head  of  a  Christian 
community— translates  the  Scriptoree, 
876,  876. 

Ultramontane  cardinals,  vii.  239. 

Unity  of  Church  under  Justinian,  i.  460. 

Universities,  rise  of,  vi.  64.  EogUaii,  vii. 
a56. 

University  of  Paris.     See  Paris. 

Urban  II.  (Otto),  Bishop  of  Ostia,  la 
nearly  elected  Pope,  iii.  606.  Elected 
at  Terracina,  610.  Comes  to  Rome, 
and  retires,  611.  His  poverty,  617. 
Holds  Council  at  Piaoensa,  618  Visits 
France,  620.  Acknowledged  by  Eng- 
lish Church,  623.  Excommunicates 
Philip  I.,  624.  His  interview  with 
Peter  the  Hermit,  iv.  26.  Holds  Coun- 
cil of  Clermont,  28.    His  speech,  29. 

Urban  III.,  Pope,  Archbishop  of  Milan, 
iv.  440.  Refuses  to  crown  Prince  Hen- 
ry, 441.  Strife  with  Emperor  Freder- 
ick, 448.    Story  of  his  death,  448. 

Urban  IV.,  election  of.  vi.  80.  Early  his- 
tory, 80.  Appoints  French  Cardinals, 
82.  His  situation,  82.  Offers  crown 
of  Naples  to  St.  Louis,  84.  To  Charles 
of  Anjou,  86.  Supports  Henry  III. 
against  barons,  88.  His  league  with 
Charles  of  AiOou.  90.    His  death,  91. 

Urban  V.,  his  reforms,  vii.  209.  Excom- 
municates Bemabo  Visconti,  212.  Pe- 
trarch's appeal  to,  215.  His  voyage  to 
Rome.  216.  His  amity  with  Emperor, 
217.  Uis  return  to  Avignon ,  and  death, 
218. 

Urban  VI.,  his  election,  vii.  283.    His 


660 


IXDEX. 


munonos. 

ohaneter,  286.  Condeinn.<*  laxnrr  of 
Cardinals,  287.  Hi«  imperloiif  n«Mi,  288. 
Cardinals  declare  against,  240.  Ilifi 
imprudent  acta.  241.  Creates  twenty- 
iiz  Cardinal*,  243.  Hisactii,247.  Suc- 
cesses, 249.  Hostility  to  Qocen  Joanna, 
251.  At  Naples,  258.  Per^ernten  op- 
ponents, 254.  Qoanwls  with  Cbarles 
ill.  of  Naples,  255.  Arrests  Cardinals 
at  Nocera,  25?.  His  cruelties  to  Cardi- 
nals, 258  Escapes  to  Genoa,  259. 
Proclaims  Jubilee,  2IS2.  His  death,  and 
alleged  madness.  268. 

UrtieintUy  rival  of  Damasus,!.  109,  111. 

Utraquists^  yii.  546. 

VulgeUey  its  merits  and  iofloenee,  i.  117. 
Completed  by  Jerome  at  Bethlehem, 
119.    Discredit  of,  TUi.  482. 


W. 


Wagons,  Harnite,  Til.  548. 

Wdki,  grandson  of  Charles  Martel,  li.  516. 
Becomes  a  monk,  516.  FiiTors  rebellion 
of  Bernhard — disgraced  by  Louis  the 
Pions,  524.  Recalled  to  court  —  his  in- 
fluence over  Louis.  527-  His  mission 
to  Rome,  528.  Joins  in  rebellion  of 
Louis's  sons,  584,  589.    His  death,  547. 

Waldenses  revere  Arnold  of  Brescia,  ir. 
289.  At  Rome,  ▼.  151.  Their  tnosls- 
tion  of  Scriptures,  154.  Their  teachers. 
225. 

Waido,  Peter,  t.  150-154. 

Watdrada^  concubine  of  Lothair  II.,  HI. 
46.  Hade  Queen,  46.  Excommnni> 
cated  by  Nicolas  T.,  55.  Rfstored  to 
communion  by  Hadrian  II.,  08. 

WaUaee,  WilUam,  ri.  277. 

Walter  of  Brienne,  It.  490.  Commands 
forces  of  Innocent  III. — defeats  Ger- 
mans before  Capua,  491/  His  death, 
498. 

WalUr  of  Troja,  Papal  chancellor,  delieats 
Markwald,  It.  490.  Jealous  of  Walter 
of  Brienne — Intrigues  with  Mnrkwald. 
482. 

Wttr,  results  of  on  eleiKy,  t1.  249. 

Wat  Tyler,  tU.  885. 

Wearmouth,  monasterr  of,  Ibunded.  ft. 
211. 

Wttneeslaus,  Emperor,  tH.  289. 

WenzeL  Prince  and  Saint  of  Bohemia,  iii. 
127. 

Ifenxe/JWenoeslaus),  King  of  Bohemia, 
Til.  487.  Favors  Huss.  488.  His  death, 
544. 

Werner,  IkTorlte  of  Henry  IT.,  Hi.  884. 
887. 

Weuezy  conTeraion  of,  it.  92. 

Wettem  Church,  Its  emancipntioti  caused 
by  Mohammedanism,  ii.  870.  And  by 
other  causes,  871,  872. 


WtCUFTM. 

Western  chnrrhes,  viii.  4Z1.  422. 

Western  Empire.     S^e  Empire. 

W^stfrn  Mona.«ticism  eootrastod  with 
Eastern,  ii.  15.  Its  ebaiarter,  M. 
Varlv,  in  Italv.  20.  In  Gaul,  20.  Iv 
Spain,  21.  In  Britain,  21.  Fitnme 
notio-is  of  on  relibsr,v.  81. 

Westminster,  Parliament  at,  iT.  884. 

}Vhi*0!f,  9vnod  at.  ii.  196. 

Wirfekind,  Saxon  chief,  ii.  478. 

Wilfrid,  his  early  hL<torT.  li.  200.  TrsT- 
eis  to  Lyons,  2Ul.  To'Rome.  202.  iU» 
turns  to  Northambrli.  2n8.  Coum*- 
cratcd  Bishop,  204.  Adventure  with 
Su$(i>ex  pirates,  'IM.  Bttiiop  nf  York. 
205.  Builds  churches  at  York.  Ripoo. 
209;  and  Hexham,  210  :  IIi-«  rfver^r^. 
212.  Superseded  —  appeals  to  Pope, 
214.  Thrown  on  coast  of  Friesland  — 
at  Rome,  214,  216.  In  Sussex,  214. 
Found«  monastery  of  Seise  v.  217.  Con- 
Terts  Cetdwalla,  218.  Restored  to  York, 
219.  UiM  expnioion,  22U.  Second  jour- 
ney to  Rome,  221     His  death,  222. 

Wilhelmina,  her  gospel,  vii.  85.  Her  her- 
esy overlooked.  86. 

WiUiam  I.  of  England,  supported  br 
Pope,  iii.  892.  Refuses  fealty.  8B1 
Mak»(  Lanfranc  Primate  —  depOH»>  Sax- 
on prelates,  iv.  801.  His  respect  ftMr 
lAnfranc,  802. 

WiUiam  Rnfust,  his  cupidity  icstraiQcd 
by  Lanfhinc,  Iv.  802.  Makes  An.<*rlm 
A'rchbisbop,  808. 

WiUiam    of    Holland.  anti-Bmprmr.   v 
494.    His  death,  vi.  40. 

WiUiam.  BNliop  nf  Utrecht,  ill.  481.  432. 
Kxcommunicares  Gregory  VU.,  489. 
His  fiudden  denth,  440. 

Wil'iam,  King  of  Sicily,  hb  alUuaee  with 
Hndrian  IV.,  iv.  275. 

WiUiam  of  Pavia,  Legate  of  Alezaoder 
TIT.,  iv.  874. 

WiUiam,  St.,  Airhbishop  of  York,  iv.  247. 

WiUiam  of  Castries.  Albigenriaii.  v. 

WiUvt.  Professor,  Ttti.  445. 

Winrhehea,   Robert  of,    Primate, 
SJward  I.,  tI.  261.    HU  estates  selaed, 
262;  bnt  rsstored.  268. 

Witckerajl,  laws  against,  i.  54S.  Ascribed 
to  evil  spirits.  Till.  202. 

Witififs,  King  of  Goths  in  Italy,  1.  456. 

Woden  compared  with  Mercury  by  the 
Romans,  i.  858. 

Wood,  religious  sculpture  in.  tOI.  471. 

World's  end,  expectation  iA  (a.b.  lOOOL 
iii.  199. 

irorm.<.  Synod  of,  iU.  48L  Coneocdal  oi; 
It.  144. 

Writings,  antlpapal,  vli.  80-85. 

WulMan  of  Wo.  tester,  It.  801. 

Wtanbwg,  treaty  of.  iv.  142.  MsC  oT, 
868. 

Wfcliffe,  his  birth,  tU.  866.    At  Oltad,