THE
LIFE OF POGGIO BRACCIOLINI.

THE
LIFE
OF
POGGIO BRACCIOLINI.

BY
THE REV. WM. SHEPHERD, LL. D.

LIVERPOOL.
PRINTED BY HARRIS BROTHERS,
FOR LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN & LONGMAN, LONDON.
1837.

PREFACE
TO
THE FIRST EDITION.

The services rendered to the cause of literature by Poggio Bracciolini, have been noticed with due applause by Mr. Roscoe in his celebrated Life of Lorenzo de’ Medici. From the perusal of that elegant publication, I was led to imagine, that the history of Poggio must contain a rich fund of information respecting the revival of letters. A cursory examination of the Basil edition of his works convinced me that I was not mistaken; and I felt a wish to direct the attention of the public to the merits of an author, whose productions had afforded me no small degree of pleasure. Being apprized that Monsieur L’Enfant had given an account of the life and writings of Poggio, in two 12mo. volumes, entitled “Poggiana,” I at first bounded my views to a translation of that work. Upon perusing it, however, I found it so ill arranged, and in many particulars so erroneous, that I was persuaded it would be a much more pleasant task to compose a new Life of Poggio, than to correct the mistakes which deform the Poggiana. In this idea I was fully confirmed by the perusal of Recanati’s Osservazioni Critiche, in which Monsieur L’Enfant is convicted of no less than one hundred and twenty-nine capital errors.

I next turned my thoughts to the translation of the Life of Poggio, written by Recanati, and prefixed by him to his edition of Poggio’s History of Florence. But finding this biographical memoir, though scrupulously accurate, too concise to be generally interesting, and totally destitute of those minute particularities which alone can give a clear and correct idea of individual character, I was persuaded that the labours of Recanati by no means superseded any further attempts to elucidate the history of Poggio. I therefore undertook the task of giving a detailed account of the life and writings of that eminent reviver of literature; and being convinced, from a perusal of his epistolary correspondence, that his connexions with the most accomplished scholars of his age would impose upon his biographer the duty of giving some account of his learned contemporaries, whilst his situation in the Roman chancery in some degree implicated him in the political changes which, in his days, distracted Italy, I carefully examined such books as were likely to illustrate the literary, civil, and ecclesiastical history of the period of which I had to treat. From these books I have selected whatever appeared to be relevant to my subject; and I have also introduced into my narrative, such extracts from the writings of Poggio as tend to illustrate, not only his own character, but also that of the times in which he lived.

I now submit the result of my inquiries to the public inspection, not without experiencing considerable anxiety respecting the fate which awaits my labours; but at the same time, conscious that I have spared no pains in searching for information, and that I have in no instance wilfully deviated from the truth of history. The number and minuteness of my references to authorities will indeed vouch for my industry, and for my willingness to facilitate that examination which may occasionally convict me of error. For errors and inadvertencies I could plead an excuse, which would perhaps tend to mitigate the severity of criticism, namely, that the life of Poggio was written during the short intervals of leisure allowed by a laborious occupation. But of this excuse I cannot conscientiously avail myself; for I have long been persuaded that the habits of industry, acquired by the recurrence of daily employment, are much more productive of that exertion of mind which is necessary to the successful study of literary composition, than the dignified, but enervating leisure of the dilettante.

PREFACE
TO
THE SECOND EDITION.

When I first began to collect materials for the writing of the life of Poggio Bracciolini, I was much indebted to the kindness of my late friends Mr. Roscoe and Mr. William Clarke, who liberally allowed me the free use of the scarce books which they possessed, illustrative of the revival of letters in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. From various passages which occur in some of these works, I was convinced that there existed in the public libraries of the city of Florence several manuscripts, from which much information might be gathered respecting the history of the scholar, to whose early exertions for the promotion of sound learning I wished to do justice. In consequence of this persuasion, I felt a strong desire to visit the Tuscan capital, for the purpose of copying and analyzing such documents, suitable to my purpose, as I might there discover. But my professional engagements not allowing me to be absent from home for the requisite length of time, I was obliged, however reluctantly, to give up this project as impracticable, and to proceed in my task with the aid of such printed books as were accessible to me. Soon after the publication of the first edition of this work, however, I found that a very interesting portion of the documents which I wished to inspect existed in my native country. The late Col. Johnes, of Hafod, having read my Life of Poggio, wrote to me in the spring of the year 1803, to inform me that he had in his library a manuscript volume of Letters written by my hero, which he would with pleasure permit me to examine, on the condition of my coming over to Hafod for that purpose. So frank an invitation I eagerly accepted, and at my earliest leisure I repaired to the Colonel’s romantic residence, where I was received with that elegant hospitality, by the exercise of which Mr. Johnes was distinguished, even in a country where strangers are generally greeted by the resident gentry with a hearty welcome. On a cursory examination of the volume which had thus attracted me to the wilds of Cardiganshire, and which was beautifully written on the finest vellum, I found that it contained many letters of Poggio which had not been printed. From these I immediately commenced making extracts of such passages as tended to throw new light on the particulars of Poggio’s history; and this task I resumed at future visits which I paid to Hafod, till, at length, the intercourse between Mr. Johnes and myself ripening into the confidence of intimate friendship, my kind host was pleased to present me with the volume itself, which I keep among the most precious of my few literary treasures, and which I especially value, as the gift of an accomplished and warm hearted man, whose memory I shall gratefully cherish to the close of my mortal existence.

Under the guidance of this manuscript I was enabled to settle various dates of occurrences in the Life of Poggio, which were not supplied by any printed record which had fallen into my hands; and also to collect several traits illustrative of his character, which would naturally be traced in his epistolary correspondence. Other engagements, however, for some time prevented me from arranging these memoranda, which I had originally collected with a view to an improved edition of my work. At a certain period, also, I deferred this task, in hopes of profiting by the annotations which I was apprized that the learned Dr. Spiker, librarian to the King of Prussia, had appended to a translation which he had made of my Life of Poggio into the German language. To my great mortification, however, the Doctor’s manuscript, which had been put into the hands of a printer at Berlin, was irrecoverably lost in the confusion which followed upon the conquest of Prussia by the Emperor Napoleon after the battle of Jena. The French version of my work by the Compte de Laubepin, which was published at Paris in the year 1819, I found to be faithful, and elegant in its style; but its Appendix threw little new light upon the subject of my lucubrations. My papers relating to Poggio lay, then, undisturbed in my portfolio, till the appearance in the year 1825 of the Cavaliere Tonelli’s translation of my work into Italian once more drew my attention to them, and revived the wish which I had so long ago entertained to publish an improved edition of the Life of Poggio. For the Cavaliere had completely smoothed to me the work of correction. Having had access, not only to a manuscript copy of Poggio’s letters deposited in the Riccardi library at Florence, of which the volume given to me by Colonel Johnes is a duplicate, but also to other collections of Poggio’s epistles, which he had discovered in various libraries on the continent of Europe, with the first volume of a selection from which he favoured the literary world in the year 1832, he was enabled to supply my deficiencies, as well as to rectify the mistakes into which I had in some few instances fallen, by relying too much on secondary authorities. This he has done in the notes appended to his translation, which in their substance exemplify the industry in research of a zealous lover of literature; and in their temper and style the urbanity of a gentleman. With such aid to facilitate my labours I experienced little difficulty in preparing for the press this second edition of the Life of Poggio, which I now submit to the public, with that confidence in its accuracy, which is founded upon the circumstance, of its having been improved by the suggestions of a critic, who has acquired a knowledge, at once minute and extensive, of the literary history of the period of which I treat, and whose opinions I cannot but respect, as the result of varied information and of enlightened judgment.

CHAP. I.

Birth of Poggio—His education at Florence—John of Ravenna—Poggio goes to Rome—Enters into the service of Boniface IX—State of Italy—Schism of the West—Urban VI—The Antipope Clement VII—Boniface IX—Distracted state of Italy—The Antipope Benedict XIII—Wars in Italy—Letter of Poggio—Poggio’s arrival in Rome—Innocent VII—Poggio introduces Leonardo Aretino into the pontifical chancery—Memoirs of Leonardo—His contest with Jacopo d’Angelo—Insurrection in Rome—Gregory XII—Alexander V—Distractions of the Pontificate—Poggio visits Florence—John XXII—Leonardo Aretino elected chancellor of Florence—His marriage, and letter to Poggio—Convocation of the council of Constance.

CHAP. I.

Poggio,[1] the son of Guccio Bracciolini, was born on the eleventh day of February, in the year 1380,[2] at Terranuova, a small town situated in the territory of the republic of Florence, not far from Arezzo. He derived his baptismal name from his grandfather,[3] concerning whose occupation and circumstances, the scanty memorials of the times in which he lived, do not furnish any satisfactory information.[4] From his father, Poggio inherited no advantages of rank or fortune. Guccio Bracciolini, who exercised the office of notary, was once indeed possessed of considerable property; but being either by his own imprudence, or by misfortune, involved in difficulties, he had recourse to the destructive assistance of an usurer, by whose rapacious artifices, his ruin was speedily completed, and he was compelled to fly from the pursuit of his creditors.[5]

But whatever might be the disadvantages under which Poggio laboured, in consequence of the embarrassed state of his father’s fortune, in a literary point of view the circumstances of his birth were singularly propitious. At the close of the fourteenth century, the writings of Petrarca and Bocaccio were read with avidity, and the labours of those eminent revivers of letters had excited throughout Italy the emulation of the learned. The day-star had now pierced through the gloom of mental night, and the dawn of literature was gradually increasing in brilliancy. The city of Florence was, at this early period, distinguished by the zeal with which its principal inhabitants cultivated and patronized the liberal arts. It was consequently the favourite resort of the ablest scholars of the time, some of whom were induced by the offer of considerable salaries, to undertake the task of public instruction. In this celebrated school, Poggio applied himself to the study of the Latin tongue, under the direction of Giovanni Malpaghino, more commonly known by the appellation of John of Ravenna. This eminent scholar had, for a period of nearly fifteen years, been honoured by the friendship, and benefited by the precepts of Petrarca, under whose auspices he made considerable progress in the study of morals, history, and poetry. After the death of his illustrious patron, he delivered public lectures on polite literature, first at Venice, and afterwards at Florence. At the latter place, besides Poggio, the following celebrated literary characters were formed by his instructions—Leonardo Aretino, Pallas Strozza, Roberto Rossi, Paulo Vergerio the elder, Omnebuono Vicentino, Guarino Veronese, Carlo Aretino, Ambrogio Traversari, and Francesco Barbaro.[6]

It has been asserted by most of the writers who have given an account of the early history of Poggio, that he acquired a knowledge of the Greek language at the Florentine University under the tuition of the celebrated Manuel Crysoloras—but it is evident from a letter addressed by him to Niccolo Niccoli, that he did not commence his Greek studies till the year 1424, when he entered upon them at Rome, trusting for success in this new pursuit to his own industry, guided by the occasional instructions of a friend of his of the name of Rinuccio, an accomplished scholar, who afterwards became secretary to Pope Nicholas V.[7]

When he had attained a competent knowledge of the Latin language, Poggio quitted Florence, and went to Rome in the year 1403. Soon after his arrival in that city, on the recommendation of his venerated tutor Coluccio Salutati, he obtained the appointment of secretary to the Cardinal Rudulfo Maramori, Bishop of Bari; and in the month of August or September in the ensuing year, he entered into the service of the reigning pontiff Boniface IX. in the capacity of writer of the apostolic letters.[8]

A. D. 1403.—At the time of Poggio’s admission into the pontifical chancery, Italy was convulsed by war and faction. The kingdom of Naples was exposed to the horrors of anarchy, consequent upon a disputed succession to the throne. Many of the cities of Lombardy, now the unresisting prey of petty tyrants, now struggling to throw off the yoke, were the miserable theatres of discord and of bloodshed. The ambition of the Lord of Milan carried fire and sword from the borders of Venice to the gates of Florence. The ecclesiastical state was exposed to the predatory incursions of banditti; and the cities over which, as portions of the patrimony of St. Peter, the pope claimed the exercise of authority, took advantage of the weakness of the Roman court to free themselves from its oppression. At the same time, the lustre of the pontificate was dimmed by the schism, which for the space of more than twenty years had divided the sentiments, and impaired the spiritual allegiance of the Christian community.

As this celebrated ecclesiastic feud, which is commonly distinguished by the name of the Schism of the West, commenced only two years before the birth of Poggio; as no fewer than five of his patrons were implicated in its progress and consequences, and as it was terminated by the council of Constance, which assembly he attended in quality of secretary to John XXII. it will be necessary to enter a little at large into its history.

The joy experienced by the inhabitants of Rome, on the translation of the papal court from Avignon to its ancient residence, by Gregory XI. was suddenly damped by the death of that pontiff, which event took place on the 28th of March, 1378. The Romans were apprehensive, that if the choice of the conclave should fall upon a native of France, he would again remove the holy see beyond the Alps.[9] They sighed for the restoration of that splendor, with which the pomp of the successors of St. Peter had formerly graced their city. Their breasts glowed with indignation, when they saw the states of the church, in consequence of the absence of its chief, successively falling under the dominion of usurpers. During the residence of the popes at Avignon, the devout pilgrimages, once so copious a source of gain to the inhabitants of the capital of Christendom, had been suspended; the tombs of the martyrs had been neglected, and the churches were fast hastening to decay. Dreading the renewal and the aggravation of these evils, the Roman clergy and populace assembled in a tumultuous manner, and signified to the cardinals, who happened to be at Rome at the time of the death of Gregory XI. their earnest wishes, that they would appoint some illustrious Italian to fill the pontifical chair. Amidst the clamours of the people, the conclave was held in the Vatican, under the protection of a guard of soldiers. This assembly was composed of thirteen French and four Italian cardinals. Notwithstanding this preponderance of ultramontane suffrages, in consequence, as Platina says, of a disagreement among the French,[10] or more probably, as was afterwards alleged by the Gallic ecclesiastics, in consequence of the overawing influence of the Roman populace, the election was concluded in favor of a Neapolitan, Bartolomeo, Archbishop of Bari, on whom the conclave conferred the name of Urban VI.[11] The French cardinals, after protesting against his nomination to the papal chair, as an act in which they had been obliged to concur through a dread of rousing the popular indignation, fled from the city. In the course of a little time, however, they returned to Rome, and made their peace with Urban by confirming his election, and paying him the customary homage. But this reconciliation was not lasting. The manners of Urban were haughty and stern, and his disposition was severe and revengeful. Disgusted by his pride, and dreading the effects of his resentment, the foreign cardinals again withdrew, first to Anagni, and afterwards to Fondi, a town situated in the territories of Naples. Here, being emboldened by the protection of Joanna, queen of that country, they renewed their protest against the election of Urban, and proceeding to form a new conclave, they proclaimed the cardinal of Ginevra, under the name of Clement VII. the true successor of St. Peter. This was the beginning of that schism, which for so long a space of time perplexed the true believers, by the inexplicable phenomenon of the co-existence of two supreme and infallible heads of the church, each proscribing his competitor, and fulminating the terrors of damnation against the adherents of his rival.

In this contest the Gallic cardinals did not restrict themselves to the use of spiritual weapons. They assembled a body of mercenary soldiers, whom they employed in making an incursion into the Roman territory. These troops were at first successful in their operations; but engaging the pontifical army near Marina, they were defeated with considerable loss.[12]

The resentful spirit of Urban, stimulated by the hostile conduct of the rebellious cardinals, prompted him to meditate a severe revenge. He instantly dispatched an ambassador to Lodovico, king of Hungary, with instructions to proffer to that monarch his assistance in punishing the queen of Naples, for the imputed murder of her husband Andrew, brother to the Hungarian sovereign, who it was alleged had, with her concurrence, been put to death by Luigi, prince of Taranto.[13] Lodovico, who had long thirsted for vengeance, eagerly accepted the offers of Urban, and gave orders to Carlo, son of Luigi di Durazzo, the descendant of Charles II. and heir apparent to the throne of Naples, to march with the Hungarian troops, which were then engaged in hostilities against the Venetians, and to co-operate with the pope in an attack upon the kingdom of Naples.[14] Carlo, after taking Arezzo, and making peace with the Florentines on the condition of their lending him forty thousand crowns of gold, repaired to Rome, where he held a conference with Urban. Thence he directed his march to Naples, of which city he easily made himself master. Joanna, after sustaining a short siege in the Castello Nuovo, was taken prisoner, and, according to the directions of the inexorable king of Hungary, smothered between two mattresses.[15]

This vindictive deed being perpetrated, Urban repaired to Naples, and, according to the terms of an agreement which had been concluded before the departure of the prince of Hungary from Rome, he demanded, on behalf of his nephew, the possession of the principality of Capua, and of several other places in the kingdom of Naples. On Carlo’s refusing to accede to this demand, Urban, with characteristic impetuosity, had recourse to threats, to which the king answered by putting the pontiff for some days under an arrest. Urban, dissembling his indignation, requested, and obtained of the prince, permission to retire to Nocera for the benefit of his health. The first step which he took on his arrival at that place, was to strengthen its fortifications, and recruit its garrison. He then proceeded to the nomination of new cardinals, and threw seven members of the sacred college into prison, alleging, that at the instigation of Carlo, and of his rival Clement, they had formed a conspiracy against his life. Having cited the Neapolitan monarch to appear and answer to the charges which he had to prefer against him, he proceeded to his trial. Carlo treated the summons with contempt, and sent Count Alberico, grand constable of his kingdom, at the head of an army to lay siege to Nocera. Urban, escaping from that city, embarked with his prisoners on board some Genoese galleys, which had been prepared to aid his flight. Exasperated to the highest degree of cruelty, the fugitive pontiff vented his fury on the captive cardinals, five of whom he caused to be tied up in sacks, and thrown into the sea.[16]

On the death of Carlo, who, having usurped the throne of Hungary, which belonged of right to Maria, the daughter of the late monarch, was murdered by assassins hired by the deposed queen, Urban endeavoured to make himself master of the kingdom of Naples. Being frustrated in this attempt, he returned to Rome, where he died on the 15th of October, 1389. We may easily credit the assertion of Platina, that “few were the persons who wept at his death.”

Poggio, in a letter to Angelotto, cardinal of St. Mark, ascribes the violent conduct of Urban to a derangement of intellect, consequent upon his elevation to the pontifical dignity;[17] and he has recorded in his Facetiæ an anecdote, which may be quoted as proving the prevalence of an opinion that he was afflicted with insanity.[18]

A. D. 1389.—Urban was succeeded by Boniface IX. a Neapolitan, of the family of the Tomacelli, who was raised to the chair of St. Peter at the early age of thirty years.[19] The distracted state of Italy required indeed the exertions of a pontiff endowed with the vigour and activity of the prime of life. That beautiful country was the devoted prey of war, rapine, and civil discord. The native country of Poggio did not escape the general calamity. Galeazzo, lord of Milan, having declared war against Florence and Bologna, sent a powerful body of forces under the command of Giovanni Ubaldino, with orders to lay waste the territories of those states. In this extremity, the Florentines dispatched a considerable army, under the command of their general Auguto, to make a diversion in the Milanese, and successfully solicited the assistance of Stephen, duke of Bavaria, and of the count d’Armagnac. The campaign was opened with brilliancy by the conquest of Padua; but the duke of Bavaria, having been seduced from his fidelity to his allies by the tempting offers of the enemy, returned to his own dominions. The count d’Armagnac, descending into Italy by the way of Turin, with the intention of co-operating with Auguto, who had advanced to Bergamo, was also successful in his first operations. But his troops, encountering the enemy under the walls of Alessandria, were put to the rout, and the count himself, exhausted by his exertions, was carried a prisoner into the town, where he soon afterwards expired in consequence, it is said, of drinking a copious draught of cold water. In these critical circumstances, the Florentines were greatly indebted to the extraordinary military talents of Auguto, who with an inferior force, effected a retreat through the heart of the Milanese, and held in check the army of Galeazzo, which had made an irruption into the Tuscan territories. Both parties being at length weary of a contest which was productive only of mutual injury, they listened to the paternal admonitions of Boniface, who interposed between them in the quality of mediator; and, under the auspices of the pontiff and the duke of Genoa, a peace was concluded between Galeazzo and the Florentines, on the basis of mutual restitution.[20]

When will a sufficient number of instances have been recorded by the pen of history, of nations harrassing each other by the outrages of war, and after years of havock and bloodshed, when exhausted by exertions beyond their natural strength, agreeing to forget the original subject of dispute, and mutually to resume the station which they occupied at the commencement of the contest. “Were subjects wise,” what would be their reflections, when their rulers, after the most lavish waste of blood, coolly sit down and propose to each other the status quo ante bellum. Happy would it be, could the status quo be extended to the widow and the orphan—to the thousands and tens of thousands, who, in consequence of the hardships and accidents of war, are doomed to languish out the remnant of their lives in torment and decrepitude.

A. D. 1393.—In the year 1393, the antipope Clement VII. dying at Avignon, the schismatic cardinals, still persisting in their rebellion against the Italian pontiff, elected as the legitimate successor of St. Peter, Pietro da Luna, who assumed the name of Benedict XIII.[21]

For the space of five years after the pacification of Genoa, Florence enjoyed the blessings of peace; but at the end of that period its tranquillity was again disturbed by the ambition of Galeazzo, who had now obtained from the emperor Wenceslaus, the title of duke of Milan. This turbulent chieftain, being encouraged by the death of Auguto,[22] the experienced commander of the Florentine forces, sent into Tuscany a strong body of troops, which made incursions to the very gates of the capital. Ruin and devastation attended the progress of the Milanese forces, who laid waste the country with fire and sword, and led a great number of the inhabitants into captivity. The following letter, addressed on a similar occasion by Poggio to the chancellor of Siena, is at once a document of the misery to which the small states of Italy were at this time exposed in consequence of the wasteful irruptions of their enemies, and a record of the benevolent dispositions of the writer’s heart.

“I could have wished that our correspondence had commenced on other grounds than the calamity of a man for whom I have a great regard, and who has been taken captive, together with his wife and children, whilst he was engaged in the cultivation of my estate. I am informed that he and one of his sons are now languishing in the prisons of Siena. Another of his children, a boy of about five years of age is missing, and it is not known whether he is dead or alive. What can exceed the misery of this lamentable destiny? I wish these distresses might fall upon the heads of their original authors: but alas! the wretched rustics pay the forfeit of the crimes of others. When I reflect on the situation of those on whose behalf I now intercede with you, my writing is interrupted by my tears. For I cannot help contemplating in the eye of imagination the woe-worn aspect of the father—the pallid countenance of the mother—the exquisite grief of the unhappy son. They have lost every thing except their life, which is bereft of all its comforts. For the father, the captors demand, by way of ransom, ten, for the son, forty florins. These sums it is impossible for them to raise, as they have been deprived of their all by the rapacity of the soldiers, and if they do not meet with assistance from the well-disposed, they must end their days in captivity. I take the liberty of earnestly pressing this case upon your consideration, and I entreat you to use your utmost exertions to redeem these unfortunate people on the lowest terms possible. If you have any regard for my entreaties, or if you feel that affection which is due from one friend to another, I beseech you with all possible importunity to undertake the care of this wretched family, and save them from the misery of perishing in prison. This you may effect by exerting your interest to get their ransom fixed at a low rate. Whatever must be paid on this account, must be advanced by me. I trust my friend Pietro will, if it be necessary, assist you in this affair. I must request you to give me an answer, informing me what you can do, or rather what you have done, to serve me in this matter. I say what you have done, for I know you are able, and I trust you are willing to assist me. But I must hasten to close my letter, lest the misery of these unhappy people should be prolonged by my delay.”[23]

The uneasiness which the Florentines experienced, in consequence of the hostile incursions of Galeazzo’s forces, was considerably augmented by the accession of territory and of strength, which that enterprising warrior at this time obtained by the acquisition of the cities of Bologna, Pisa, Siena, and several fortresses bordering on the territories of the republic. Perugia also having thrown off its allegiance to the pope, had sheltered itself from his indignation under the protection of the duke of Milan.[24]

The year of the jubilee was now approaching, and the Romans, ever delighted with the frivolity of magnificent spectacles, sent a deputation to Boniface, who had studiously withdrawn from Rome, requesting him to honour his capital with his presence. With this request, Boniface hesitated to comply, alleging, as the reason of his hesitation, that the choice of magistrates, which the Roman people had lately made, was by no means pleasing to him. Unwilling to forego the amusements and profits of the approaching festival, the compliant citizens of Rome gratified the pontiff with the selection of the principal officers of state, and moreover, supplied him with a considerable sum of money. Boniface, in return for these acts of submission, vouchsafed to make his public entry into Rome; and employed the money which he had received, as the price of his condescension, in fortifying the Mole of Adrian, in modern times better known by the name of the castle of St. Angelo, and other posts, which gave him the command of the city. Thus had the Romans the satisfaction of celebrating the jubilee with extraordinary pomp, at the expense of the remnant of their liberty.[25]

A. D. 1400.—In the mean time the Florentines, being hard pressed by the duke of Milan, derived a ray of hope from the assistance of the newly-elected emperor Robert duke of Bavaria, who promised to come to their aid, with a powerful body of troops. The joy which they felt on this occasion was however but of short continuance; for soon after his entrance into Italy, the emperor was totally defeated by the duke of Milan, and the remnant of his army being driven over the mountains, was obliged to take shelter in the city of Trent. By the retreat of the imperial troops, the Florentines were reduced to the utmost extremity. Abandoned by their allies, and exposed to the inroads of their neighbours, they implored the assistance of Boniface. The pontiff, who felt deep resentment against Galeazzo on account of his seizure of several cities in the ecclesiastical state, readily entered into the views of the Florentines, and without hesitation concluded a treaty, by which he engaged to bring into the field an army of five thousand men, which was to co-operate with the Tuscan forces. But soon after the commencement of the campaign, the Florentines were happily relieved from their anxiety, by the death of their inveterate enemy Galeazzo, whose career of conquest was terminated by a fever, of which he died at Marignano,[26] on the third of September, 1402. Soon after the death of this powerful prince, many cities, of which he had at different times forcibly taken possession, were seized by various petty tyrants, who took advantage of the odium excited by the vices of his son and successor Giovanni Maria; and Boniface availed himself of the general confusion to reduce Bologna and Perugia to their ancient allegiance to the papal see.[27]

It has been already observed, that Poggio arrived in Rome in the year 1403. He was then in the twenty-fourth year of his age. At this dangerous season, though animated with a lively fancy, and stimulated by an ardent constitution, he was not allured into dissipation, by the temptations of a corrupt and luxurious court. We learn indeed from the introductory conversation of his dialogue on Avarice, that the appointments of the pontifical secretaries were not very splendid. Antonio Lusco, one of the interlocutors in that dialogue, is there represented as declaring, that their income was scarcely sufficient to maintain the dignity of their office.[28] It is probable therefore, that the scantiness of Poggio’s revenues had no unfavorable influence on his moral conduct and his studies. In the preface to his Historia disceptativa convivialis, he acknowledges, that he frequently had recourse to literary pursuits, in order to beguile the anxiety which he experienced in consequence of the narrowness of his circumstances.[29] Poverty is not unfrequently the parent of knowledge, and the stern, but salutary guardian of virtue. Whatever might be the cause, certain it is, that Poggio diligently devoted his leisure hours to study, and cultivated the acquaintance of those whose conversation might tend to the improvement of his mind. As literary pursuits had at this æra acquired the currency of fashion, the character of the scholar was frequently found united with that of the man of the world. To this circumstance we may ascribe the union of learning, politeness, and knowledge of the human heart, which shines so conspicuously in the writings of Poggio.

On the 1st October, 1404, Poggio sustained a considerable loss by the death of his patron, Boniface IX. “Nothing would have been wanting,” says Platina, “to complete the glory of this pontiff, had he not tarnished the lustre of his fame by his excessive partiality towards his relations. These flocked in crowds to Rome; and the numerous acts of simony of which they were guilty, greatly impaired the authority of the keys.”[30]

A. D. 1404.—On the death of Boniface, Cosmo, cardinal of Santa Croce, was elected to the pontificate, and assumed the name of Innocent VII. The new pontiff was by no means insensible of the merits of Poggio, whom he continued in the office to which he had been promoted by the favour of Boniface. He appears indeed to have treated him with particular kindness and respect. Poggio availed himself of his interest with Innocent, to testify the sincerity of his friendship for Leonardo Aretino, who during his residence at Florence, had been the associate of his studies, and the companion of his festive hours. Leonardo, whose paternal appellation was Bruni, derived the name of Aretino from Arezzo, in which city he was born in the year 1370. His parents, though not graced by the honours of nobility, held a respectable rank in society, and were sufficiently wealthy to be enabled to bestow on their son a good education.[31] In his early youth, Leonardo was incited to a love of letters by an extraordinary accident. A body of French troops, who were marching to Naples to assist Louis duke of Anjou in maintaining his claim to the sovereignty of that kingdom, at the solicitation of the partizans of a faction which had been banished from Arezzo, made an unexpected attack upon that city; and after committing a great slaughter, carried many of the inhabitants into captivity; and among the rest the family of Bruni. Leonardo being confined in a chamber in which was hung a portrait of Petrarca, by daily contemplating the lineaments of that illustrious scholar, conceived so strong a desire to signalize himself by literary acquirements, that immediately upon his enlargement he repaired to Florence, where he prosecuted his studies with unremitting diligence, under the direction of John of Ravenna and Manuel Crysoloras.[32] During his residence at Florence, he contracted a strict intimacy with Poggio. This intimacy was not interrupted by the separation of the two friends, which took place upon the removal of the latter to Rome. On the contrary, Poggio being informed by Leonardo, that he wished to procure a presentation to some place of honour and emolument in the Roman chancery, took every opportunity of commending his virtues, and of bringing his talents into public notice, by communicating his letters to the literary characters who frequented the pontifical court.[33] In consequence of Poggio’s address, the fame of Leonardo reached the ears of Innocent, who was induced, by his extraordinary reputation, to invite him to Rome, at which city he arrived, March 24, 1405. On this occasion the interest of Leonardo was powerfully promoted by a letter addressed to Innocent, by Coluccio Salutati,[34] the chancellor of the city of Florence, in which he detailed the merits of the young candidate in the most flattering terms. The reception which Leonardo met with on his first presentation at the pontifical court, though in some respects flattering, was on the whole inauspicious. Innocent observed to him in the presence of his courtiers, that he seemed to be in every other respect well qualified for the place to which he aspired; but that an office of great trust required more discretion than could be expected from his early years. This observation stimulated Jacopo d’Angelo, a scholar of considerable reputation, who had formerly been a rival of Leonardo in the Florentine university, to offer himself as a candidate for the office in question. The age of Jacopo was more mature than that of Leonardo, and a residence of four years in the pontifical court seemed to give a decided superiority to his claims over those of the stranger.[35] Poggio sympathized in the disappointment and anxiety of his friend. Fortunately however for Leonardo, Innocent having at this time received certain letters from the duke of Berry, determined to assign to each of the competitors, the task of drawing up an answer to them. The compositions of the two candidates being compared, the prize was unanimously adjudged to Leonardo, who was in consequence of this decision, instantly advanced to the dignity of apostolic scribe. This transaction was the means of cementing the friendship of Poggio and Leonardo, which endured, without interruption till their union was severed by death.[36]

Before his accession to the chair of St. Peter, Innocent was accustomed to blame the negligence and timidity of the Italian pontiffs, and to attribute to their incapacity the continuance of the schism which gave such occasion of triumph to the enemies of the true faith. But when he was invested with the pontifical purple, he was convinced by mortifying experience, that it was much easier to find fault with the conduct of his predecessors, than to redress the grievances of Italy, and to restore the peace of the church. [A. D. 1405.] He found himself indeed obliged to exert all his power, to repress the spirit of liberty which prompted the Roman people to demand the restitution of the capitol, the castle of St. Angelo, and of the other places of strength which had been wrested from them by the policy of his predecessors. The animosity excited in the breasts of the populace, by the refusal of Innocent to accede to these demands, was exasperated to the highest degree, by the culpable impetuosity of his nephew Lodovico, who attacking a deputation of the citizens, who had waited on the pontiff with a view of composing the differences which subsisted between him and the people, had seized eleven of their number, and put them to death. Two of these were members of the council of seven, which presided over the city, and the remaining nine were citizens of illustrious rank. Irritated by this act of cruel treachery the populace flew to arms, and revenged the death of their chiefs by the slaughter of several of the servants of the pontiff. Innocent, who was unconscious of the treachery of his nephew, was totally unprepared to resist the fury of the multitude. The pontifical residence was indeed strongly fortified; but it was not furnished with sufficient provisions to be enabled to stand a siege; and the troops of Ladislaus, king of Naples, were said to be hastening to the assistance of the insurgents. In this extremity, Innocent determined to seek his safety in flight. He accordingly left the palace, under the escort of a sufficient guard, at two o’clock in the afternoon of the sixth of August, and after a hasty march of two days, in the course of which several of his attendants died of fatigue, arrived at Viterbo.[37] Most of his servants, and among the rest Poggio and Leonardo, the latter of whom narrowly escaped falling a victim to the indiscriminate rage of the insurgents, were the companions of his flight.[38]

The Roman patriots were now masters of almost every part of the city. They were however soon dispirited, when they saw their territory laid waste by the pontifical troops, and agreed to terms of pacification with Innocent, who returned in triumph to his capital, towards the latter end of March, 1406.[39] [A. D. 1406.] The pontiff did not long enjoy this favorable reverse of fortune, as he died on the sixth of November, of the same year.[40]

When the intelligence of the death of Innocent reached France, the dukes of Berry, of Burgundy, and of Orleans, who, in the quality of regents, administered the affairs of that kingdom during the mental indisposition of Charles VI. repaired to Avignon, and conjuring Benedict XIII. to concur in putting an end to a schism which had been the source of so much scandal and calamity, proposed, that he should voluntarily divest himself of the pontificate. With a view of softening the harshness of this proposal, they engaged, that whosoever should be elected at Rome as successor to Innocent, should be obliged to take the same step. The antichristian competition being thus terminated, it was to be hoped, they said, that the assembled cardinals would agree in the election of a pontiff, who would be universally acknowledged as the legitimate head of the church. Invitations to resign dignity, splendour, and power, are seldom received with complacence. Benedict made many general protestations of his zeal for the welfare of the church, but peremptorily refused to quit the pontifical chair. Fearing that the regents would attempt to enforce their propositions by arms, he strengthened the fortifications of Avignon, in which city he was in a manner besieged for the space of some months. Being at length reduced to extremities, he embarked on the Rhone, and proceeding down that river to the Mediterranean, he fled into Spain, where he found a refuge from the power of his enemies in his native province of Catalonia.[41]

In the mean time, each of the cardinals who happened to be at Rome, at the time of the death of Innocent VII. took a solemn oath, that if in the ensuing election of a sovereign pontiff, the choice of the conclave should happen to fall upon himself, he would resign the pontificate, provided Benedict would follow his example.

This arrangement was proposed in order to appease the mutual jealousy of the French and Italian cardinals, as neither of these subdivisions of the ecclesiastical senate would consent to sacrifice their representative without the concurrence of their antagonists in a similar measure. These preliminaries being adjusted, on the 30th of November, the conclave proceeded to fill the vacant chair, by the election of Angelo Corraro, cardinal of St. Mark, who on his advancement to the pontifical dignity, adopted the name of Gregory XII.[42]

Though the new pontiff had, immediately after his election, subscribed a ratification of the oath which bound him to abdicate his newly acquired honours, yet upon frivolous pretexts, he from time to time deferred the fulfilment of this sacred engagement. Benedict his competitor, having repaired to Savona, and afterwards to Porto Venere, with a view, as he asserted, of settling the peace of the church, by an amicable conference with Gregory; the latter insisted upon it, that they should meet in some inland town, where they might jointly comply with the requisition of the cardinals. Benedict on the contrary asserting, that he could not deem himself safe in the interior of Italy, demanded that Gregory should for that purpose, meet him in some sea-port. With this proposal, Gregory, on pretence of apprehended danger to his person, refused to comply. Thus as Leonardo Aretino humorously observes, “The one, like an aquatic animal, was afraid of trusting himself on dry land; and the other, like a terrestrial animal, had an equal dread of the water.”[43] Scandalized by the duplicity of the rival pontiffs, and alarmed by the violence of Gregory, the cardinals quitted Lucca, to which city they had accompanied him in hopes that he would adopt the requisite steps to put an end to the schism, and assembled at Pisa. Here, constituting themselves a council of the church, they deposed both Gregory and Benedict, substituting in their place, Pietro Filardo, a native of Candia, who assumed the appellation of Alexander V.[44]

During these distractions of the Roman court, the officers of the pontifical household, according to their various views of duty, or considerations of interest, pursued different plans of conduct. Many of them, with prudent foresight, deserting the falling fortunes of Gregory, accompanied the cardinals from Lucca to Pisa; others, in the number of whom was Leonardo Aretino, adhered to their master.[45] In these delicate circumstances, Poggio seems to have steered a middle course. He removed indeed from Lucca, but he exchanged the intrigues and dissensions of the pontifical palace, for the tranquil delights of friendship which he enjoyed at Florence in the society of his literary acquaintance.[46] On this occasion he experienced the most seasonable assistance from the countenance and support of the celebrated Niccolo Niccoli. This distinguished patron of literature was the son of Bartolomeo de’ Niccoli, a merchant of Florence, and was born in the year 1363.[47] His father wished to have trained him up to the mercantile profession; but Niccolo, preferring the cultivation of the liberal arts to the accumulation of riches, entered upon his studies, under the instruction of Lodovico Marsilio,[48] a scholar of considerable reputation. So ardent was his love of learning, that when he had attained a competent knowledge of the Latin language, he went to Padua, for the express purpose of transcribing the compositions of Petrarca. On his return to Florence, he brought with him a copy of the Africa, and of various other works of that author. He had hardly attained to the period of manhood, when he conferred a memorable obligation on the learned, by erecting, at his own expense, a suitable edifice, for the reception of the library which the celebrated Bocaccio had by his last will bequeathed to the convent of the Holy Spirit at Florence. His house was the constant resort of scholars and students, who were freely indulged with the use of his copious collection of books, and were moreover incited by his example, to make the most active exertions in the prosecution of their literary labours. The patronage of this illustrious citizen, who had the discernment to distinguish, and the inclination and ability to assist the lovers of learning, Poggio justly valued at a high rate. And on the other hand, Niccolo was so much pleased with the accomplishments and the amiable dispositions of Poggio, that he honoured him with his sincere friendship and cordial esteem.

Gregory, refusing to acknowledge the legitimacy of the acts of the council of Pisa, withdrew to Rimini, where he was honourably entertained by Carlo Malatesta.[49] Benedict was not more obedient to the decree which announced his deposition. After holding a council at Perpignan, he defied his foes, and thundered his anathemas from the walls of the strong Spanish fortress of Paniscola.[50]

The well known virtues of Alexander V. had inspired the friends of the church with sanguine expectations of witnessing the speedy revival of the power and dignity of the holy see. But these flattering hopes were at once dissipated by his death, which took place in the eighth month of his pontificate.[51] It was strongly suspected that his days were shortened by poison, administered to him by Baldassare Cossa, cardinal of St. Eustachio, who succeeded him in his pontifical honours.[52]

At an early period of his life, Baldassare seems to have aspired to the highest ecclesiastical dignity. When he had finished his studies at Bologna, he determined to repair to Rome. Being asked by some of his friends who saw him making preparations for his journey, whither he was going, he replied, “to the pontificate.” Soon after his arrival in the capital of the church, he was advanced by Boniface IX. to the confidential office of private chamberlain; and in the course of a little time he obtained, from the favour of the same patron, the dignity of cardinal of St. Eustachio, and was sent, invested with the office of legate, on an important mission to Bologna. In the exercise of this office, he greatly contributed, by the exertion of considerable political and military talents, to the establishment and extension of the authority of the holy see. It is said, that the power and the money with which this situation supplied him, were the principal instruments of his exaltation to the chair of St. Peter. [A. D. 1410.] However that may be, he was unanimously elected to the sovereign pontificate, on the 19th of May, 1410, and assumed the name of John XXII.[53]

About this time Leonardo Aretino was, by the concurrent voice of the people, elected to the chancellorship of the city of Florence. He did not, however, long retain this office, which he found to be attended with more labour than profit. In the latter end of the ensuing year, 1411, he abdicated his municipal honours, and entered into the service of John XXII. The return of his friend to the pontifical chancery was highly gratifying to Poggio, who during the late storms had retained his situation, and regulating his conduct by the decrees of the council of Pisa, had acted as apostolic scribe to Alexander V., and was now, in the same capacity, a member of the household of that pontiff’s successor.

Shortly after the resumption of his functions in the Roman court, Leonardo took a journey to Arezzo, where he married a young lady of considerable distinction in that city. The event was of course very interesting to the colleagues and friends of the bridegroom; and Poggio wrote to him on the occasion, informing him of the witticisms to which his present predicament had given rise, and inquiring what opinion his short experience had led him to form of the comforts of the conjugal state. Leonardo replied to Poggio’s letter without delay. By the tenor of his answer, he seems to have found nothing unpleasant in matrimony, except its costliness. “It is incredible,” says he, “with what expense these new fashions are attended. In making provision for my wedding entertainment, I emptied the market, and exhausted the shops of the perfumers, oilmen, and poulterers. This however is comparatively a trivial matter; but of the intolerable expense of female dress and ornaments, there is no end. In short,” says he, “I have in one night consummated my marriage, and consumed my patrimony.”[54]

Whilst Poggio and his associates were making themselves merry at the expense of the new married man, the superior officers of the pontifical court were engaged in very serious deliberations. Sigismund, who had been elected to the imperial throne, July 21st, 1411, being earnestly desirous of the extinction of the schism, demanded of John the convocation of a general council; which the cardinals who had assembled at Pisa in the year 1409, had declared to be the only measure which could restore to Christendom the blessings of peace. But the pontiff inherited the prejudices of his predecessors, against those dangerous assemblies which were so apt to trench upon the prerogatives of the head of the church. He would gladly have evaded complying with the requisition of Sigismund, and with this view proposed that the intended council should be summoned to meet at Rome. But danger awaited him in his own capital. Ladislaus, king of Naples, whom he had endeavoured to secure in his interest, invaded the territory of the church, made himself master of Rome, and compelled the pontiff successively to seek refuge in Florence, in Bologna, and in Mantua. From this latter city, John went to Lodi, where he was met by Sigismund, who, accompanied by a numerous retinue, attended him on his return to Mantua. Thus finding himself in the power of the emperor, and flattered by the magnificent promises of that potentate, who professed his readiness to assist him in expelling the enemies of the church from the patrimony of St. Peter, John was persuaded to take the desperate step of summoning a general council, and to appoint the city of Constance as the place of its meeting.[55]

CHAP. II.

John XXII. opens the council of Constance—John Huss arrives at that city—His imprisonment—Disagreeable proposals made to John XXII.—He escapes from Constance—His deposition—Death of Manuel Crysoloras—Poggio’s epitaph on Crysoloras—Trial and execution of John Huss—The pontifical household dispersed—Poggio remains at Constance—His Hebrew studies—His visits to the baths of Baden—His description of those baths—Jerome of Prague—Poggio’s account of Jerome’s trial and execution—Reflections.

CHAP. II.

The reluctance which John XXII. felt at the proposal of his authorizing the meeting of a general council, was increased by the importunity of his relations and dependants, who prophetically warned him to take care, lest, though he went to such an assembly as a pope, he should return as a private man.[56] The death of his enemy Ladislaus, who was cut off by a violent distemper as he was on his march to besiege the pontiff in Bologna, seemed also to relieve him from the necessity of submitting to the requisitions of Sigismund. But the Christian world was weary of the schism which had for so long a period tarnished the lustre of the church. The zeal of Sigismund had accelerated every necessary preparation for the assembling of the council. Sanguine expectations had been awakened throughout Europe, of the blessed consequences which were likely to result from the labours of an assemblage of the most dignified and learned members of the Catholic community. The intrepidity of John shrunk from the idea of encountering the obloquy which would be poured upon his character, should he, by refusing to fulfil the engagements into which he had entered with Sigismund, disappoint the reasonable hopes of the friends of union and of peace. Poggio has recorded it to the praise of Zabarella, cardinal of Florence,[57] who seems to have enjoyed much of the pontiff’s favour and confidence, that he faithfully impressed these considerations upon the hesitating mind of the father of the faithful.[58] Impelled by that prelate’s arguments and in treaties, John took the decisive step and set out for Constance, in which city he arrived on the 28th of October, 1414. He was accompanied on his journey by the greater part of his court, and among the rest by Poggio, whom he had promoted, from the office of apostolic scribe to the still more confidential employment of secretary.[59] In the course of a few weeks after his arrival, Poggio had the pleasure of welcoming his friend Leonardo, who after a dreary journey over the Alps, of which he has left an interesting description in a letter to Niccolo Niccoli, embarked on the lake of Constance, and landed at that city towards the latter end of December.[60]

Three principal objects demanded the utmost exertion of the wisdom of the council—the termination of the schism—the reformation of the church—and the extirpation of heresy. The pontiff earnestly wished to confine the attention of the assembled fathers to the last of these points. He accordingly availed himself of the earliest opportunity to engage them in prosecuting the enemies of the orthodox faith. John Huss, a celebrated Bohemian reformer, had repaired to Constance with an avowed intention of vindicating the correctness of his creed, and of retracting any errors, of which he might be convinced by the learning of his opponents. Aware of the danger to which he would be exposed in defending his cause in the midst of his prejudiced adversaries, he had taken the precaution of procuring from the emperor a safe conduct, by which all princes, as well ecclesiastical as secular, were strictly enjoined “to let him freely and securely pass, sojourn, stop, and repass.”[61] But the unfortunate Bohemian soon found to his cost, that the imperial mandate was insufficient to protect a reputed heretic. He had not resided at Constance many days, before he was taken into custody, and imprisoned in the monastery of the Dominicans. Whilst he was there labouring under the aggravated evils of severe sickness, and uneasiness of mind, his enemies were employed in making preparations for his trial, and his friends in vain protested against the violation of the law of nations, which had been committed in his imprisonment. In consequence of their remonstrances, Sigismund had indeed given positive orders for Huss’s release: but these orders were disobeyed: and when the emperor arrived at Constance, on Christmas day, sufficient reasons were alleged by the pope, to induce him to pardon this act of resistance to his authority, and to resign the too credulous prisoner to the jurisdiction of an ecclesiastical tribunal.

But though Sigismund consented to sacrifice a defenceless individual to the religious zeal, or to the crooked policy of the pontifical court, he entertained designs by no means friendly to the interests of John XXII. As the jealous suspicion of the partizans of the pontiff had foreseen, the emperor, with the concurrence of the council, proposed to his holiness, that, in order to put an end to the schism, he should solemnly engage to resign the tiara, in case his competitors, Gregory XII. and Benedict XIII. could be persuaded to concur with him, by taking a similar step. John with difficulty smothered the indignation which this proposal excited within his ardent mind. Professing however his readiness to comply with the wishes of the assembled representatives of the Christian church, he threw every possible obstacle in the way of their completion. Being at length pushed to extremity by the importunity of Sigismund, who had in a manner compelled him to read the instrument of his resignation in open council, he meditated the desperate design of withdrawing from Constance. By the assistance of the duke of Austria he was enabled to put this design into execution. That prince, in order to favour the flight of the pontiff, instituted a grand tournament on the 20th day of March, which was the eve of the festival of St. Benedict. While the attention of all orders of men was absorbed by this magnificent spectacle, John easily found an opportunity of passing through the city gates in the disguise of a postillion.

The fugitive pontiff withdrew first to Schaffausen, and afterwards to Lauffenbourg. Not thinking himself sufficiently secure even in this latter place, he took shelter in Fribourg. Here he at length deemed himself beyond the reach of his adversaries; and in the pride of confidence, he sent to the council certain extravagant demands, which that assembly treated with contempt. In the mean time the duke of Austria had been put under the ban of the empire; his territories had been invaded on all sides; many of his towns had been taken; and he was given to understand, that nothing less than the most unequivocal acts of humiliation, and the delivering up of the contumacious pontiff, could reconcile him to his imperial sovereign. He accordingly repaired to Constance, and in a most solemn assembly of the council, craved pardon of Sigismund, and surrendered to him the remnant of his dominions.

The council now proceeded to summon John to appear and answer to divers articles of impeachment, which had been preferred against him; and on his refusing to attend, either in person or by proxy, the members of that assembly proceeded to exercise a memorable act of supremacy, [May 14th, A. D. 1415.] by first suspending him from the discharge of the pontifical functions, and afterwards decreeing and proclaiming his deposition. John, finding himself deserted by the duke of Austria, and at the absolute disposal of the emperor, submitted to the ordinance of the council. After the annunciation of his sentence, the officers of his household were discharged from their customary attendance on his person, and he was sent a prisoner to the fortress of Gotleben, whence he was soon afterwards transferred to Heidleberg. The articles of impeachment, declared by the council to have been proved against John, charged him with the most atrocious vices incident to the vilest corruption of human nature. Influenced however by the consideration of the exalted rank which he had lately held, and perhaps mollified by the meekness of his submission, his judges were satisfied with the measure of punishment which they had already inflicted, in degrading him from his dignity, and depriving him of liberty.

Whilst the council was thus occupied in contention with the head of the church, it was deprived of an illustrious member by the death of Manuel Crysoloras. It has been already observed, that this eminent scholar, by his assiduous labours, diffused a knowledge and admiration of Grecian literature, amongst a numerous assemblage of pupils in the university of Florence. After a residence of three years in the Tuscan capital, Manuel was summoned to Milan by his sovereign, the eastern emperor, who, in the course of his progress through Italy, was then paying a visit to Giovanni Galeazzo.[62] Having received advantageous proposals from the latter prince, and being deterred from returning to Florence, by the violence of Niccolo Niccoli, who had become his bitter enemy, he undertook to read lectures on the Greek language in the academy of Ticino, an institution which had been just founded by the late duke of Milan, the father of Giovanni.[63] The tumult and anarchy which ensued after the death of his patron, compelled Manuel to quit the Milanese, and take shelter in Venice, whence, at the recommendation of his pupil Leonardo Aretino, he was invited to Rome. In this city his talents and his virtues raised him to such a degree of respectability, that in 1413 John XXII. empowered him, jointly with Zabarella, cardinal of Florence, to treat with Sigismund upon the choice of a place proper for the holding of the approaching council; and it was with his concurrence that the city of Constance was fixed upon as being well adapted for that purpose.[64] Having faithfully executed this important commission, he returned to Constantinople, where he was appointed by the emperor of the east to attend the council as one of the representatives of the Greek church. He accordingly repaired to Constance, where the delicacy of his constitution sinking under the fatigues of business, he died on the 15th of April, 1415.[65] His remains were deposited in the Dominican monastery, and a monument was erected to his memory, on which was engraven the following inscription, said to have been composed by his disciple Pietro Paulo Vergerio.[66]

“Ante aram situs est D. Emanuel Crysoloras, eques Constantinopolitanus, ex vetusto genere Romanorum, qui cum Constantino Imperatore migrarunt, Vir doctissimus, prudentissimus, optimus, qui tempore Generalis Concilii diem obiit, eâ existimatione, ut ab omnibus summo sacerdotio dignus haberetur, die XV. Aprilis, MCCCCXV.”[67]

Poggio also, availing himself of this last opportunity of testifying his sense of the merits of Crysoloras, dedicated to his memory the following epitaph:

“Hic est Emanuel situs

Sermonis decus Attici:

Qui dum quærere opem patriæ

Afflictæ studeret huc iit.

Res belle cecidit tuis

Votis, Italia; hic tibi

Linguæ restituit decus

Atticæ, ante reconditæ.

Res belle cecidit tuis

Votis, Emanuel; solo

Consecutus in Italo

Æternum decus es, tibi

Quale Græcia non dedit,

Bello perdita Græcia.”[68]

In the mildness of the sentence passed by the council upon the delinquent pontiff, the members of that assembly seem to have exhausted their stock of leniency. Their mercy was reserved for dignified offenders; and it appears by their subsequent conduct, that however tender and gentle they might be in punishing immorality of practice, the unrelenting fury of their vengeance was excited by errors in matters of opinion. The process against John Huss was expedited with all the ardour of ecclesiastical zeal. The unfortunate reformer was at various times brought in chains before a tribunal, on which his enemies sat in quality of judges; and, surrounded by a military guard, he was called upon to answer to a long series of articles of accusation, the greater part of which related to the most mysterious and subtile points of doctrine. To some of these articles he pleaded not guilty. Many of the propositions which were imputed to him as errors in faith, he defended as true; at the same time declaring his readiness to retract any doctrine, of the erroneousness of which he should be convinced. His judges having in vain endeavoured to enlighten his understanding by argument, had recourse to the terrors of authority. They declared him guilty of heresy, and attempted to overawe him to a recantation, by the dread of a painful death. But the constancy of Huss was unshaken. He firmly refused to purchase life at the expence of truth and honour. After various unsuccessful efforts to persuade him to make his peace with the church, by timely submission, the council proceeded to degrade him from his priestly office, and after proclaiming the awful sentence which condemned him as an obstinate heretic, delivered him over to the secular power. [July 6th, A. D. 1415.] On the sixth day of July, 1415, Huss was led to the fatal pile, where he suffered death with the intrepidity of a resolute mind, supported by the consciousness of rectitude, and by the firm conviction of sincere religious faith, which, happily for the oppressed, are not the exclusive privileges of any sect, but bestow their animating influence on the persecuted advocates of every varying shade of theological belief.

On the dispersion of the pontifical household, consequent upon the deposition of John XXII., Leonardo Aretino returned to Italy, where he resumed his literary pursuits with great assiduity. Poggio remained at Constance, for the purpose of improving any opportunity which might there occur, of promoting his own interest, or that of his friend. As he had now a good deal of leisure, he employed his vacant hours in studying the Hebrew language, under the direction of a Jew who had been converted to the Christian faith.[69] His continuance in Germany was not however productive either of immediate pleasure, or of present emolument. He was wearied and disgusted by the tedious protraction of the debates of the council. He regarded the proceedings of that assembly, with the prejudices which naturally rendered them odious to the members of the papal court; and the mortifications experienced at Constance by several of his friends, excited in his breast sentiments of sorrow and indignation.[70] His hopes of preferment became more and more faint, as the power of his patrons was diminished by the intrigues of their adversaries; and in short, wheresoever he turned his eyes, his prospect was gloomy and discouraging. The study of Hebrew does not seem to have possessed sufficient charms to beguile the uneasiness which he experienced, in consequence of these various distresses. The rudiments of that language are peculiarly intricate; and Poggio was not stimulated by incentives sufficiently powerful, to induce him to surmount the difficulties which presented themselves at the commencement of this new pursuit. For all the purposes of the Christian faith he had been taught, and in all probability believed, that St. Jerome’s translation of the Jewish scriptures was amply sufficient. As he was not disposed to call in question the prevailing creed, he did not wish to make himself master of the oriental tongues, with a view of providing himself with the weapons of religious controversy. In the brief and authoritative precepts of the Israelitish moralists, he looked in vain for the flow of eloquent argument, which had captivated his attention in the ethic disquisitions of Cicero. The abrupt transitions, and swelling metaphors of the Hebrew poets, though, in a variety of individual instances, striking in effect, generally shrunk from the severe test of the rules of Aristotle and Quintilian.[71] The Hebrew language was not, like the Latin tongue, of practical use in the daily affairs of a literary or political life; and finally, his instructor was a man of no talents or respectability of character, and soon became the butt of his ridicule, and the object of his sovereign contempt. These causes concurred to check his progress in biblical studies, in which he does not appear to have made any great proficiency.

The amusement which he in vain sought for in the extension of his literary attainments, he found in a total suspension of his studies. [A. D. 1416.] In the spring of the year 1416, he took advantage of the leisure time afforded him, by the termination of his functions as secretary to the deposed pontiff, to make an excursion to the baths of Baden.[72] Of these baths he gave a description in the following letter, which he addressed to Niccolo Niccoli; and which, whilst it exhibits an interesting picture of a fashionable watering place of the fifteenth century, displays a sportiveness of fancy, and an expansion of good humour, which were characteristic and attractive features of Poggio’s mind.

“I wrote to you from Constance, on the first of March, if my memory be correct, a letter, which, if it came to hand, I imagine made you tolerably merry. It was rather long, and pregnant with wit. I gave you in it a long account of my Hebrew studies, and passed many jokes upon my tutor, a stupid, unsteady, and illiterate man; which indeed is the general character of those who are converted from Judaism to Christianity. But I am inclined to suspect, that this letter, and another which I addressed to Leonardo Aretino, did not reach their destination. Had you received my epistle, you would surely have answered it, were it only with the view of congratulating me on my new course of study, which you have so frequently exhorted me to undertake. I cannot find that the study of Hebrew adds to my stock of philosophical knowledge; but it so far promotes my acquaintance with literature, that I am thereby enabled to investigate the principles upon which St. Jerome founded his translation of the scriptures. But I write to you from these baths, (to which I am come to try whether they can remove an eruption which has taken place between my fingers) to describe to you the situation of the place, and the manners of its inhabitants, together with the customs of the company who resort hither for the benefit of the waters. Much is said by the ancients of the pleasant baths of Puteoli, which were frequented by almost all the people of Rome. But in my opinion, those boasted baths must, in the article of pleasure, yield the palm to the baths of Baden. For the pleasantness of the baths of Puteoli was founded more on the beauty of the circumjacent country, and the magnificence of the neighbouring villas, than on the festive manners of the company by which they were frequented. The scenery of Baden, on the contrary, has but few attractions: but every other circumstance relating to its medicinal springs, is so pregnant with delight, that I frequently imagine that Venus, and all her attendant joys, have migrated hither from Cyprus. The frequenters of these waters so faithfully observe her institutes, so accurately copy her manners, that though they have not read the discourse of Heliogabalus, they seem to be amply instructed by simple nature. But I must in the first place give you an account of my journey hither. On the first day I sailed down the Rhine twenty-four miles to Schaffausen. Here we were obliged to pass the falls by land; and at the distance of ten miles from Schaffausen we arrived at a fortress, situated on the Rhine, and known by the name of Keisterstul, that is, Cæsar’s seat. From the name of this place, and from its commanding situation, (for it is built on a high hill overhanging the river, across which is thrown a small bridge, which effects a communication between France and Germany) I conjecture it was formerly a Roman station. In this day’s journey we saw the Rhine precipitating itself from a considerable height, over craggy rocks, with a sound which seemed to express the indignation of the river at being thus impeded in its course. When I contemplated this sight, I recollected the stories which are related concerning the cataracts of the Nile, and I did not wonder that the people who live in the vicinity of those waterfalls, were deprived of their hearing by their noise, when a river of so comparatively small a magnitude, that with respect to the Nile it may be denominated a torrent, may be heard to the distance of half a mile. The next town is Baden, which word, in the German language, signifies a bath. Baden is a place of considerable opulence, situated in a valley surrounded by mountains, upon a broad and rapid river, which forms a junction with the Rhine, about six miles from the town. About half a mile from Baden, and on the bank of the river, there is a very beautiful range of buildings, constructed for the accommodation of the bathers. These buildings form a square, composed of lodging houses, in which a great multitude of guests are commodiously entertained. Each lodging house has its private bath, appropriated to its tenants. The baths are altogether thirty in number. Of these, two only are public baths, which are exposed to view on every side, and are frequented by the lower orders of people, of all ages, and of each sex. Here the males and females, entertaining no hostile dispositions towards each other, are separated only by a simple railing. It is a droll sight to see decrepit old women and blooming maidens, stepping into the water, and exposing their charms to the profane eyes of the men. I have often laughed at this exhibition, which reminded me of the Floral games of Rome. And I have at the same time admired the simplicity of these people, who take no notice of these violations of propriety, and are totally unconscious of any indecorum. The baths belonging to the private houses are very neat. They too are common to males and females, who are separated by a partition. In this partition, however, there are low windows, through which they can see and converse with, and touch each other, and also drink together; all which circumstances are matters of common occurrence. Above the baths are a kind of galleries, on which the people stand who wish to see and converse with the bathers; for every one has free access to all the baths, to see the company, to talk and joke with them. As the ladies go in and out of the water, they expose to view a considerable portion of their persons; yet there are no door-keepers, or even doors, nor do they entertain the least idea of any thing approaching to indelicacy. Many of the baths have a common passage for the two sexes, which circumstance very frequently occasions very curious rencounters. The men wear only a pair of drawers. The women are clad in linen vests, which are however slashed in the sides, so that they neither cover the neck, the breast, nor the arms of the wearer. The ladies frequently give public dinners in the baths, on a table which floats on the water; and the men often partake of these entertainments. Our party received several invitations. I paid my share of the reckoning; but though I was frequently requested to favour them with my company, I never accepted the summons; not through modesty—which would, on these occasions, be mistaken for rudeness, and want of good breeding, but on account of my ignorance of the language. For it seemed to me an act of folly in an Italian, who could not take any part in conversation, to spend all the day in the water, employed in nothing but eating and drinking. But two of my companions were not so scrupulous. They visited the ladies in the baths, and assisted at their entertainments. They conversed with them, by the medium of an interpreter; and when their fair hostesses were incommoded by the heat, they had the honour of fanning them. On their return they spoke with great pleasure of the kind reception which they had experienced. When they thus visited the ladies, they were clothed in linen gowns. From the gallery which I have mentioned above, I was a witness of this scene; and I was astonished to behold, with what unsuspecting simplicity they conducted themselves, and with what full confidence the husbands suffered their wives to be handed about in their dishabille by strangers. They were not uneasy; they did not even attend to the circumstance, but saw every transaction in the most favourable light. They are well prepared to embrace the doctrine of Plato, who would have all things in common; for without instruction, they are already in a great measure converts to his principles. In some of the private baths, the men mix promiscuously with their female relatives and friends. They go into the water three or four times in a day; and they spend the greater part of their time in the baths, where they amuse themselves with singing, drinking and dancing. In the shallower part of the water they also play upon the harp. It is a pleasant sight to see young lasses tuning their lyres, like nymphs, with their scanty robes floating on the surface of the waters. They look indeed like so many Venuses, emerging from the ocean. The women have a custom of playfully begging from the men who come to see them bathe. The latter throw down small pieces of money, which they direct to the fairer damsels. The ladies below stretch out their hands, and spread their bathing gowns, to receive these gifts, which frequently give rise to a general scramble. This scramble, you will easily conceive, occasions very laughable incidents. Besides money, garlands and crowns of flowers are thrown down, with which the ladies ornament their heads while they remain in the water. As I only bathed twice a day, I spent my leisure time in witnessing this curious spectacle, visiting the other baths, and causing the girls to scramble for money and nosegays; for there was no opportunity of reading or studying. The whole place resounded with songs and musical instruments, so that the mere wish to be wise, were the height of folly; in me especially, who am not like Menedemus, in the play, a morose rejecter of pleasure, but one of those who take a lively interest in every thing which concerns their fellow mortals. My pleasure was however much less than it would have been, had I been able to converse with my new acquaintance. Circumstanced as I was, I could only feast my eyes, wait on the ladies, and attend them to the rendezvous of amusement. I had also an opportunity of paying my court to them, as against this there was no prohibitory law. Besides these various pastimes, there is also another, which is a source of no small gratification. There is a large meadow behind the village, near the river. This meadow, which is shaded by abundance of trees, is our usual place of resort after supper. Here the people engage in various sports. Some dance, others sing, and others play at ball, but in a manner very different from the fashion of our country. For the men and women throw, in different directions, a ball, filled with little bells. When the ball is thrown, they all run to catch it and whoever lays hold of it is the conqueror, and again throws it at somebody for whom he wishes to testify a particular regard. When the thrower is ready to toss the ball, all the rest stand with outstretched hands, and the former frequently keeps them in a state of suspense, by pretending to aim, sometimes at one, and sometimes at another. Many other games are here practised, which it would be tedious to enumerate. I have related enough to give you an idea what a numerous school of Epicureans is established at Baden. I think this must be the place where the first man was created, which the Hebrews call the garden of pleasure. If pleasure can make a man happy, this place is certainly possessed of every requisite for the promotion of felicity.

“But you will perhaps wish to know what are the virtues of the waters. Their virtues are various and manifold; but they have one quality, which is truly wonderful, and in a manner divine. I believe there are no baths in the world more efficacious in promoting the propagation of the human species. This may indeed be in some measure accounted for by the following circumstance.—An innumerable multitude of persons of all ranks repair to this place from the distance of two hundred miles; not with a view of recruiting their health, but of enjoying life. These baths are the general resort of lovers and their mistresses, of all, in short, who are fond of pleasure. Many ladies pretend to be sick, merely with a view of being sent for cure to this watering place. You consequently see here a great number of handsome females without their husbands, and not protected by any male relations, but attended by a couple of maids and a man servant, or some elderly cousin, who is very easily imposed upon. And they come adorned with such costly apparel, that you would suppose they were coming to a wedding, rather than to a watering place. Here we find Vestal, or to speak more correctly, Floral virgins. Here we meet with abbots, monks, friars, and priests, who live with greater license than the rest of the company. These ecclesiastics, forgetting the gravity of their profession, sometimes bathe with the ladies, and adorn their hair with silken ribbons. For all people here concur in banishing sorrow, and courting mirth. Their object is, not to divide that which is common, but to communicate that which is appropriated. It is an astonishing circumstance, that in so great a multitude (nearly a thousand persons) of various dispositions, and so much given to riot, no discord or dissension ever arises. The husbands see their wives gallanted, and even attended tête à tête by strangers, and yet they are not disturbed or rendered uneasy. Hence it happens, that the name of jealousy, that plague, which is elsewhere productive of so much misery, is here unknown. How unlike are the manners of these people to ours, who always see things on the dark side, and who are so much given to censoriousness, that in our minds the slightest suspicion instantly grows into full proof of guilt. I often envy the apathy of these Germans, and I execrate our perversity, who are always wishing for what we have not, and are continually exposed to present calamity by our dread of the future. But these people, content with little, enjoy their day of life in mirth and merriment; they do not hanker after wealth; they are not anxious for the morrow; and they bear adversity with patience. Thus are they rich by the mere disposition of their minds. Their motto is, “live while you live.” But of this enough—it is not my object to extol my new friends at the expense of my countrymen. I wish my epistle to consist of unqualified good humour, that I may impart to you a portion of the pleasure I derived from the baths of Baden.”

Soon after Poggio’s return from Baden to Constance the Council proceeded to the trial of Jerome of Prague, an intimate friend and associate of John Huss. When Jerome was apprized of the arrest and imprisonment of his brother reformer, he deemed himself bound in honour to repair to Constance, to administer to him comfort and assistance. He accordingly arrived in that city on the 24th of April, 1415.[73] But alarmed by the violence of spirit which seemed to rage against reputed heretics, he soon fled from Constance, and went to Uberlingen, whence he sent to the council to demand a safe conduct. Instead of this instrument of protection, the members of that assembly addressed to him a citation to appear before them, and answer to a charge of heresy.[74] Justly dreading the consequences of encountering the prejudices of the ecclesiastical dignitaries, whose morals and principles he had so often branded with infamy, he refused to obey this citation, and set off on his return to Bohemia. He proceeded without molestation as far as Hirsaw; but there he was arrested by the officers of the duke of Sultzbach, who sent him in chains to Constance.[75] Immediately after his arrival in that city, he underwent an examination, after which he was committed to prison. The severity which he there experienced, the importunity of some of his prosecutors, and his solitary meditations on the dreadful catastrophe of Huss, at length shook his constancy, and on the 15th of September, 1415, he read in open Council, a recantation of his errors.[76] At this price he purchased a relaxation of the rigour of his confinement: but, notwithstanding the remonstrances of Zabarella, and of three other cardinals, who contended, that by his renunciation of error, he had satisfied public justice, he was detained in custody. In the course of a few months after his recantation, new articles of impeachment were exhibited against him. To these he pleaded in a solemn assembly of the council, held for that purpose, on the 26th May, 1416.[77] Poggio, who was present at this second trial of Jerome, gave the following interesting account of it to his friend Leonardo Aretino.[78]

“Soon after my return from Baden to Constance, the cause of Jerome of Prague, who was accused of heresy, came to a public hearing. The purport of my present letter is to give you an account of this trial, which must of necessity be a matter of considerable interest, both on account of the importance of the subject, and the eloquence and learning of the defendant. I must confess that I never saw any one who in pleading a cause, especially a cause on the issue of which his own life depended, approached nearer to that standard of ancient eloquence, which we so much admire. It was astonishing to witness with what choice of words, with what closeness of argument, with what confidence of countenance he replied to his adversaries. So impressive was his peroration, that it is a subject of great concern, that a man of so noble and excellent a genius should have deviated into heresy. On this latter point however, I cannot help entertaining some doubts. But far be it from me to take upon myself to decide in so important a matter. I shall acquiesce in the opinion of those who are wiser than myself.

“Do not however imagine that I intend to enter into the particulars of this cause. I shall only touch upon the more remarkable and interesting circumstances, which will be sufficient to give you an idea of the learning of the man.

“Many things having been alleged against the prisoner as proofs of his entertaining heretical notions, and the council being of opinion, that the proof was sufficiently strong to warrant further investigation, it was ordered that he should publicly answer to every particular of the charge. He was accordingly brought before the council. But when he was called upon to give in his answers, he for a long time refused so to do; alleging, that he ought to be permitted to speak generally in his defence, before he replied to the false imputations of his adversaries. This indulgence was however denied him. Upon which, standing up in the midst of the assembly—What gross injustice is this! exclaimed he, that though for the space of three hundred and forty days, which I have spent in filth and fetters, deprived of every comfort, in prisons situated at the most remote distances from each other, you have been continually listening to my adversaries and slanderers, you will not hear me for a single hour! The consequence of this is, that while on the one hand, every one’s ears are open to them, and they have for so long a time been attempting to persuade you that I am a heretic, an enemy of the true faith, a persecutor of the clergy; and on the other hand, I am deprived of every opportunity of defending myself; you have prejudged my cause, and have in your own minds condemned me, before you could possibly become acquainted with my principles. But, says he, you are not Gods, but men, not immortals, but mortals, liable to error, and subject to imperfection. We are taught to believe that this assembly contains the light of the world, the prudent men of the earth. You ought therefore to be unremittingly careful not to do any thing rashly, foolishly or unjustly. I indeed, who am pleading for my life, am a man of little consequence; nor do I say what I do say through anxiety for myself (for I am prepared to submit to the common lot of mortality)—but I am prompted by an earnest desire, that the collective wisdom of so many eminent men may not, in my person, violate the laws of justice. As to the injury done to myself, it is comparatively of trifling consequence; but the precedent will be pregnant with future mischief. These and many other observations he made with great eloquence; but he was interrupted by the murmurs and clamours of several of his auditors. It was decreed, that he should first answer to the charges exhibited against him, and afterwards have free liberty of speech. The heads of the accusation were accordingly read from the desk. When, after they had been proved by testimony, he was asked whether he had any remarks to make in his defence, it is incredible with what skill and judgment he put in his answers. He advanced nothing unbecoming a good man; and if his real sentiments agreed with his professions, he was so far from deserving to die, that his principles did not even give just ground for the slightest offence. He denied the whole impeachment, as a fiction invented by the malice of his enemies. Amongst others an article was read, which accused him of being a detractor of the apostolic see, an oppugner of the Roman pontiff, an enemy of the cardinals, a persecutor of prelates, and an adversary of the Christian clergy. When this charge was read, he arose, and stretching out his hands, he said in a pathetic tone of voice, Fathers! to whom shall I have recourse for succour? Whose assistance shall I implore? Unto whom shall I appeal, in protestation of my innocence?—Unto you?—But these my persecutors have prejudiced your minds against me, by declaring that I entertain hostility against all my judges. Thus have they artfully endeavoured, if they cannot reach me by their imputations of error, so to excite your fears, that you may be induced to seize any plausible pretext to destroy your common enemy, such as they most falsely represent me to be. Thus, if you give credit to their assertion, all my hopes of safety are lost. He caused many to smart by the keenness of his wit, and the bitterness of his reproaches. Melancholy as the occasion was, he frequently excited laughter, by turning to ridicule the imputations of his adversaries. When he was asked what were his sentiments concerning the sacrament, he replied, that it was by nature bread; but that at the time of consecration, and afterwards, it was the true body of Christ, &c. according to the strictest orthodoxy. Then someone said, but it is reported that you have maintained, that there remains bread after consecration.—True, said Jerome, there remains bread at the baker’s. When one of the order of preaching friars was railing against him with uncommon asperity, he said to him—Hold thy peace, hypocrite! When another swore by his conscience, this, said he, is a very safe mode of deceiving. One man, who was particularly inveterate against him, he never addressed but by the title of ass or dog. As, on account of the number and importance of the articles exhibited against him, the cause could not be determined at that sitting, the court was adjourned to another day, on which the proofs of each article of impeachment were read over, and confirmed by more witnesses. Then he arose and said, since you have attended so diligently to my adversaries, I have a right to demand that you should also hear me with patience. Though many violently objected to this demand, it was at length conceded to him that he should be heard in his defence. He then began by solemnly praying to God, so to influence his mind, and so to inspire his speech, that he might be enabled to plead to the advantage and salvation of his soul. He then proceeded thus—I know, most learned judges, that many excellent men have been most unworthily dealt with, overborne by false witnesses, and condemned by the most unjust judgments. Illustrating this position by particular instances, he began with Socrates, who was unjustly condemned by his countrymen, and who could not be persuaded by the dread of the most formidable evils, imprisonment or death, to avail himself of an opportunity which was presented to him of escaping out of custody. He then proceeded to mention the captivity of Plato, the torments endured by Anaxagoras and Zeno, and the unjust condemnations of many other gentiles—the banishment of Rutilius, the unmerited death of Boetius, and of others mentioned in the writings of that author. He then passed on to the instances which are recorded in the Jewish history—and in the first place, he observed, that Moses, the deliverer and legislator of the Jews, was frequently calumniated by his own countrymen, as a seducer and contemner of the people. He also instanced Joseph, who was sold to slavery, in consequence of the envy of his brethren, and afterwards imprisoned under a groundless suspicion of incontinence. Besides these, he enumerated Isaiah, Daniel, and almost all the prophets, who were calumniated and persecuted, as despisers of God and sowers of sedition. He also alluded to the trial of Susannah, and of many others, who, notwithstanding the integrity of their lives, perished by unjust sentences. Coming down to the time of John the Baptist and our Saviour, he observed, that all are agreed that they were unjustly condemned, upon false charges, supported by false witnesses. He next quoted the case of Stephen, who was put to death by the priests; and reminded the assembly that all the apostles were condemned to die, as seditious movers of the people, contemners of the gods, and workers of iniquity. He maintained that it was a scandalous thing that one priest should be unjustly condemned by another; that it was still more scandalous, that a college of priests should be guilty of this crime; and that it was most scandalous of all, that it should be perpetrated by a general council. Nevertheless he proved from history that these circumstances had actually occurred. Upon these topics he enlarged in so impressive a manner, that every body listened to him with fixed attention. But as the weight of every cause rests upon the evidence by which it is supported, he proved, by various arguments, that no credit was due to the witnesses who deposed against him, more especially as they were instigated to give evidence against him by hatred, malevolence, and envy. He then so satisfactorily detailed the causes of the hatred which he imputed to his prosecutors, that he almost convinced his judges of the reasonableness of his objections against their testimony. His observations were so weighty, that little credit would have been given to the depositions of the witnesses for the prosecution, in any other cause except in a trial for heresy. He moreover added, that he had voluntarily come to the council, in order to defend his injured character; and gave an account of his life and studies, which had been regulated by the laws of duty and of virtue. He remarked, that holy men of old were accustomed to discuss their differences of opinion in matters of belief, not with a view of impugning the faith, but of investigating the truth—that St. Augustine and St. Jerome had thus differed in opinion, and had upon some points even held contrary sentiments, without any suspicion of heresy. All the audience entertained hopes that he would either clear himself by retracting the heresies which were objected to him, or supplicate pardon for his errors. But he maintained that he had not erred, and that therefore he had nothing to retract. He next began to praise John Huss, who had been condemned to the flames, calling him a good, just, and holy man, a man who had suffered death in a righteous cause. He professed that he himself also was prepared to undergo the severest punishment with an undaunted and constant mind, declaring that he submitted to his enemies, and to witnesses who had testified such shameful falsehoods; who would however, on some future day, give an account of what they had said, to a God who could not be deceived. When Jerome made these declarations, the assembly was affected with the greatest sorrow; for every body wished, that a man of such extraordinary talents should repent of his errors and be saved. But he persisted in his sentiments, and seemed to court destruction. Dwelling on the praises of John Huss, he said, that he entertained no principles hostile to the constitution of the holy church, and that he only bore testimony against the abuses of the clergy, and the pride and pomp of prelates: for that since the patrimony of the church was appropriated first to the poor, then to strangers, and lastly to the erection of churches, good men thought it highly improper that it should be lavished on harlots, entertainments, dogs, splendid garments, and other things unbecoming the religion of Christ. It may be mentioned as the greatest proof of Jerome’s abilities, that though he was frequently interrupted by various noises, and was teased by some people who cavilled at his expressions, he replied to them all, and compelled them either to blush or to be silent. When the clamour incommoded him, he ceased speaking, and sometimes reproved those who disturbed him. He then continued his speech, begging and entreating them to suffer him to speak, since this was the last time they would hear him. He was never terrified by the murmurs of his adversaries, but uniformly maintained the firmness and intrepidity of his mind. It was a wonderful instance of the strength of his memory, that though he had been confined three hundred and forty days in a dark dungeon, where it was impossible for him to read, and where he must have daily suffered from the utmost anxiety of mind, yet he quoted so many learned writers in defence of his opinions, and supported his sentiments by the authority of so many doctors of the church, that any one would have been led to believe, that he had devoted all the time of his imprisonment to the peaceful and undisturbed study of philosophy. His voice was sweet, clear and sonorous; his action dignified, and well adapted either to express indignation, or to excite compassion, which however he neither asked nor wished for. He stood undaunted and intrepid, not merely contemning, but like another Cato longing for death. He was a man worthy to be held in everlasting remembrance. I do not commend him for entertaining sentiments hostile to the constitution of the church; but I admire his learning, his extensive knowledge, the suavity of his eloquence, and his ability in reply. But I am afraid that all these endowments were bestowed on him by nature, in order to effect his destruction. As he was allowed two days for repentance, several learned men, and amongst the rest the cardinal of Florence, visited him, with a view of persuading him to change his sentiments, and turn from the error of his ways. But as he pertinaciously persisted in his false notions, he was condemned as guilty of heresy, and consigned to the flames. No stoic ever suffered death with such constancy of mind. When he arrived at the place of execution, he stripped himself of his garments, and knelt down before the stake, to which he was soon after tied with wet ropes and a chain. Then great pieces of wood, intermixed with straw, were piled as high as his breast. When fire was set to the pile, he began to sing a hymn, which was scarcely interrupted by the smoke and flame. I must not omit a striking circumstance, which shows the firmness of his mind. When the executioner was going to apply the fire behind him, in order that he might not see it, he said, come this way, and kindle it in my sight, for had I been afraid of it, I should never have come to this place. Thus perished a man, in every respect exemplary, except in the erroneousness of his faith. I was a witness of his end, and observed every particular of its process. He may have been heretical in his notions, and obstinate in perservering in them, but he certainly died like a philosopher. I have rehearsed a long story, as I wished to employ my leisure in relating a transaction which surpasses the events of ancient history. For neither did Mutius suffer his hand to be burnt so patiently as Jerome endured the burning of his whole body; nor did Socrates drink the hemlock as cheerfully as Jerome submitted to the fire.”[79]

They who are admitted within the veil which hides the daily transactions of the great from the profane eyes of the vulgar, rarely entertain an excessive reverence for dignities. From a variety of passages which occur in the works of Poggio, it is evident, that he was by no means insensible of the corruptions of the pontifical court; and on more occasions than one, he drew upon himself the severity of reproof, by the freedom with which he exposed the vices of the clergy.[80] Whether his indignation against the disgraceful conduct of the teachers of the Catholic doctrine had shaken his belief in the Catholic creed, his prudence has rendered it impossible to ascertain. It is certain, that he thought a reformation of the manners of ecclesiastics absolutely necessary to the credit of the church; and though he was not inspired by the zeal which prompted John Huss, and Jerome of Prague, publicly to arraign the conduct of their ecclesiastical superiors, let it be recorded to his honour, that he did not, as many have done, reprove and ridicule prevailing corruptions in private, and at the same time join in the persecution of those who had sufficient courage to impugn the same corruptions by open hostility. The feeling manner in which he describes the trial and execution of Jerome, evinces a heart which daily intercourse with bigoted believers and licentious hypocrites could not deaden to the impulses of humanity. Indeed the manifest interest which he took in the fate of a man, who was held by the church as an object of unqualified abhorrence,[81] awakened the fears of Leonardo Aretino on his behalf. Leonardo was undoubtedly apprehensive, lest his admiration of the abilities, and his compassion for the fate of the heretic, should be attributed to a latent love of heresy. He therefore thought it requisite to admonish his friend in the following terms. “I received the day before yesterday, by the medium of Barbaro, your letter on the subject of the execution of Jerome of Prague. I very much admire its elegance; but you seem to give a more ample testimony to the merits of the heretic than I could wish. You take care indeed frequently to put in proper caveats; but upon the whole, you show too great an affection for his cause. I must advise you henceforth to write upon such subjects in a more guarded manner.”[82]

The cold caution of Leonardo may be a quality conducive to the insurance of personal safety; but the generous warmth of Poggio lays an irresistible claim to the applause of every ingenuous mind.

CHAP. III.

Poggio receives a copy of Francesco Barbaro’s treatise De Re Uxoriâ—Memoirs of Francesco Barbaro—Poggio’s journey in quest of ancient manuscripts—Account of the ancient authors recovered by him—Death of Cardinal Zabarella—Poggio’s oration pronounced at Zabarella’s funeral—Account of Zabarella—Martin V. elected to the pontificate—Termination of the Schism—Dissolution of the Council—Poggio attends the pontiff to Mantua—He visits England, at the instance of Beaufort, bishop of Winchester—He is disappointed—State of literature in Britain—Several of Cicero’s works recovered in Italy—Quarrel between Leonardo Aretino and Niccolo Niccoli—Poggio obtains a small benefice—He is still dissatisfied—He returns to Italy—Notices of the state of society in Britain which occur in his works.

CHAP. III.

Soon after the execution of Jerome of Prague, Poggio received from Guarino Veronese,[83] a copy of a treatise, De Re Uxoriâ, i. e. on the duties of a wife, which had been lately published by Francesco Barbaro, a Venetian scholar, who was now beginning to attain a considerable degree of celebrity. His opinion of this composition he expressed in the following terms. “I thank you, my dear Guarino, for the little volume which you have been so kind as to communicate to me. My obligation to you would be immense, had I any thoughts of matrimony; but I must acknowledge, that the perusal of this treatise has done away the little inclination which I previously felt to enter into the married state; for how can I expect to find a help-mate who concentrates in her character all the good qualities, the union of which, in the opinion of wise judges, constitutes a good wife. But to be serious. As soon as I received the book, I began to peruse it; and found the subject so novel, the style so excellent, and the method so clear, that I hastily ran over the whole in one day. I afterwards read it again more deliberately. The subject is indeed a pleasant one; and he has illustrated it by numerous and well arranged examples. I am however most of all captivated by the gravity of his diction. This dissertation on the duty of a wife, is, in my opinion, worthy to be classed with Tully’s Offices. You know that I am no flatterer, but that I always speak from the impulse of the heart. Barbaro unites with the greatest eloquence a dignity of sentiment, worthy of a man of consummate gravity. Earnestly exhort him to cultivate those talents, the first fruits of which are so admirable.”[84]

The warm approbation which Poggio expressed of this treatise De Re Uxoriâ, led the way to an intercourse of mutual good offices between him and its author, in whose character were united the dignity of the patrician, and the accomplishments of the scholar.

Francesco Barbaro was descended from a noble Venetian family, which formerly bore the name of Magadesi, but exchanged that appellation for the honourable title of Barbaro, or de’ Barbari, which was conferred upon it in the twelfth century, in consequence of the valorous exertions of Marco Magadesi, in a battle fought against the Saracens, near Ascalon. Francesco was born at Venice, in the year 1398. At an early age he was placed under the tuition of John of Ravenna, and was afterwards entrusted to the care of Gasperino Barziza.[85] Under the auspices of these instructors he made a surprisingly rapid progress in the study of the Latin tongue. In the acquisition of the rudiments of the Greek language he was assisted by Guarino Veronese, and not, as some have erroneously supposed, by Manuel Crysoloras. So suddenly did the talents of Francesco come to maturity, that he made a public exhibition of his acquirements in the eighteenth year of his age, at which early period he pronounced the funeral eulogium of Giovanni Corrodino, a physician of Padua; and also, at the command of the directors of the Paduan university, delivered an oration on the occasion of the conferring the degree of doctor of civil and canon law on Alberto Guidalotti, a noble Perugian. But a more singular instance of the precocity of his mind was displayed in the course of the same year, in the publication of his treatise De Re Uxoriâ, which was received by the learned with universal applause.[86] The vacancy of the pontifical throne still affording to the officers of the Roman chancery a considerable degree of leisure, Poggio about this time undertook an expedition of no small importance to the interests of literature. Having received information that many ancient manuscripts of classic authors were scattered in various monasteries, and other repositories in the neighbourhood of Constance, where they were suffered to perish in neglected obscurity, he determined to rescue these precious relics from the hands of barbarians, who were so little sensible of their value. He was not deterred from this laudable design by the inclemency of the season, or by the ruinous state of the roads; but with an industry and perseverance, which cannot be too highly applauded, he made several excursions to the places which were said to contain the objects of his research. These excursions he even extended to the city of Paris. For the fatigue and trouble which he encountered in these inquiries he was requited by the most signal success. A great number of manuscripts, some of which contained portions of classic authors, which the admirers of ancient learning had hitherto sought for in vain, were the reward of his literary zeal. The scholars of Italy took a lively interest in these investigations of their learned countryman. The noble art of printing has in modern times rendered books so easily accessible to all ranks of men, that we cannot enter into the feelings of those whose libraries were scantily furnished with volumes, which were slowly multiplied by the tedious process of transcription. But the epistolary correspondence of the studious of the fifteenth century contains frequent and striking intimations of the value which was then set upon good modern copies of the works of classic writers. It may therefore be easily presumed, that the discovery of an ancient manuscript was a common subject of exultation to all the lovers of the polite arts. In the following letter from Leonardo Aretino to Poggio, congratulating him on the success of his expedition, and particularly on his acquisition of a perfect copy of Quintilian’s treatise on Oratory, the writer speaks the sentiments of the literary characters of the age.

“I have seen the letter which you wrote to our friend Niccolo, on the subject of your last journey, and the discovery of some manuscripts. In my opinion the republic of letters has reason to rejoice, not only on account of the acquisition of the works which you have already recovered, but also on account of the hope which I see you entertain of the recovery of others. It will be your glory to restore to the present age, by your labour and diligence, the writings of excellent authors, which have hitherto escaped the researches of the learned. The accomplishment of your undertaking will confer an obligation, not on us alone, but on the successors to our studies. The memory of your services will never be obliterated. It will be recorded to distant ages, that these works, the loss of which had been for so long a period a subject of lamentation to the friends of literature, have been recovered by your industry. As Camillus, on account of his having rebuilt the city of Rome, was stiled its second founder, so you may be justly denominated the second author of all those pieces which are restored to the world by your meritorious exertions. I therefore most earnestly exhort you not to relax in your endeavours to prosecute this laudable design. Let not the expense which you are likely to incur discourage you from proceeding. I will take care to provide the necessary funds. I have the pleasure of informing you, that from this discovery of yours, we have already derived more advantage than you seem to be aware of; for by your exertions we are at length in possession of a perfect copy of Quintilian. I have inspected the titles of the books. We have now the entire treatise, of which, before this happy discovery, we had only one half, and that in a very mutilated state. Oh! what a valuable acquisition! What an unexpected pleasure! Shall I then behold Quintilian whole and entire, who, even in his imperfect state, was so rich a source of delight? I entreat you, my dear Poggio, send me the manuscript as soon as possible, that I may see it before I die. As to Asconius and Flaccus, I am glad that you have recovered them, though neither of these authors have conferred any additional grace on Latin literature. But Quintilian is so consummate a master of rhetoric and oratory, that when, after having delivered him from his long imprisonment in the dungeons of the barbarians, you transmit him to this country, all the nations of Italy ought to assemble to bid him welcome. I cannot but wonder that you and your friends did not eagerly take him in hand, and that, employing yourselves in the transcription of inferior writers, you should have neglected Quintilian—an author, whose works I will not hesitate to affirm, are more an object of desire to the learned than any others, excepting only Cicero’s dissertation De Republicâ. I must next admonish you not to waste your time on the works which we already possess, but to search for those which we have not, especially the works of Cicero and Varro.”[87]

Poggio was far from being unconscious of the good service which he had done to the cause of letters, by the successful assiduity of his researches after the lost writers of antiquity. [A. D. 1416.] On the sixteenth of December of this year, he wrote to Guarino Veronese an epistle, in which, after duly extolling the importance and agreeable nature of the intelligence which he was about to announce, he gave him a particular account of the treasure which he had lately brought to light. From this letter it appears,[88] that in consequence of information which Poggio had received, that a considerable number of books were deposited in the monastery of St. Gall, he took a journey to that town, accompanied by some of his friends. There they found a large number of manuscripts, and among the rest a complete copy of Quintilian, buried in rubbish and dust. For the books in question were not arranged in a library, but were thrown into the lowest apartment or dungeon of a tower, “Which,” says Poggio, “was not even a fit residence for a condemned criminal.” Besides Quintilian they found in this obscure recess the three first, and one half of the fourth books of the Argonautics of Valerius Flaccus, and Asconius Pedianus’s comment on eight of Cicero’s orations. The two latter manuscripts Poggio himself transcribed, with an intention of sending them to Leonardo Aretino, who, as appears by his letters quoted above, was so much elated by the revival of Quintilian, that he speaks of the discovery of Asconius and Flaccus as a matter of comparatively trifling moment.[89]

Poggio zealously concurred in the wish of his friend Leonardo, to rescue from obscurity the lost works of Cicero. Nor were his endeavours to accomplish this valuable object entirely unsuccessful. In a monastery of the monks of Clugny, in the town of Langres, he found a copy of Cicero’s Oration for Cæcina, of which he made a transcript for the use of his Italian friends. In the course of various journeys, which the vicissitudes of fortune obliged him to take at different periods of his life, he had the satisfaction to discover the following orations of the same author, the loss of which had been long deplored by the learned—De lege Agrariâ contra Rullum liber primus—Ejusdem liber secundus—Contra legem Agrariam ad populum—In L. Pisonem. A copy of these orations is preserved in the Abbey of Santa Maria, at Florence, to which is affixed a memorandum, which records the fact of their having been discovered by Poggio. This memorandum indeed makes mention of seven orations as having been found by him in France and Germany; and the catalogue prefixed to the manuscript, besides the works above mentioned, enumerates the Oration pro C. Rabirio Pisone—Pro C. Rabirio perduellionis reo—and pro Roscio Comœdo—but these orations have been torn from the volume in question.[90] With the assistance of Bartolomeo di Montepulciano, Poggio also restored to light the poem of Silius Italicus—Lactantius’s treatise de irâ Dei et opificio hominis—Vegetius de re Militari—Nonius Marcellus—Ammianus Marcellinus[91]—Lucretius[92]—Columella and Tertullian.[93]

Before the time of Poggio, eight only of the comedies of Plautus were known to the classical student. But by the industry or good fortune of one Nicolas of Treves, whom Poggio employed in continuing the researches in the monasteries of Germany, which he was unable to conduct in person, twelve more were brought to light. When Poggio had notice of this discovery, he was highly elated, and strenuously exhorted the cardinal Ursini to dispatch a trusty messenger to bring these valuable treasures to Rome. “I was not only solicitous, but importunate with his eminence,” says Poggio in a letter to Niccolo Niccoli, “to send somebody for the books.” The cardinal did not however second the impatience of the Italian literati, who waited nearly two years before the manuscripts in question arrived in Rome, whither they were brought by Nicolas of Treves himself.[94]

Besides Plautus’s comedies, Nicolas of Treves brought to Rome a fragment of Aulus Gellius.

Poggio also found a copy of Julius Frontinus de Aquæductis, and eight books of Firmicus’s treatise on the mathematics, lying neglected and forgotten in the archives of the monastery of Monte Cassino; and at the instance of Niccolo Niccoli he prevailed upon the governors of that religious house, to allow him to convey these manuscripts to his own residence, for the purpose of decyphering and copying them. After he had transcribed Frontinus with his own hand, he returned the original manuscript to the library where it had been discovered.[95] He also procured at Cologne a copy of Petronius Arbiter, a small fragment of which author he had before discovered in Britain. By his exertions also the entire work of Columella was brought to light, of which only fragments had been known to the earlier scholars. For the preservation of Calpurnius’s Bucolic also, the republic of letters is indebted to the sagacious diligence of Poggio.[96]

In a long and elaborate letter which Poggio received from Francesco Barbaro, and which bears the date of June 7th, 1417, this learned patrician congratulates his correspondent on the glory which he had acquired by his labours in the cause of learning, and ascribes to the unremitted diligence of his investigations, the recovery of the works of the following authors, in addition to others which have been already enumerated; Manilius, Lucius Septimius, Caper, Eutychius, and Probus. From this letter of Barbaro, it appears, that the republic of letters had expected that Poggio would have been materially assisted in his inquiries after the relics of ancient literature by Bartolomeo di Montepulciano, but that in consequence of the ill state of his associate’s health, he was under the necessity of taking upon himself almost the entire conduct and trouble of the research.

The expense occasioned by these literary excursions was a heavy incumbrance upon Poggio, whose property could by no means bear any extraordinary diminution: and the fatigue and inconvenience which he experienced in the course of his travels in quest of manuscripts, induced him at one time to declare to Niccolo Niccoli that he could not possibly spend more time in this pursuit.[97] This declaration was however nothing more than the result of a temporary dejection of spirits. During the remainder of his life he eagerly took advantage of every opportunity of recovering the lost works of the writers of antiquity, many of which he transcribed with his own hand. In several of his letters the zeal with which he endeavoured to procure good copies of the Latin classics is strikingly conspicuous. His inquiries were incessantly and anxiously directed after the ancient compositions which had not yet been rescued from beneath the ruins of ages. In the course of his investigations, he once entertained hopes of recovering the lost Decads of Livy. A Swede, of the name of Nicolaus, had solemnly assured him, that he had seen a perfect copy of Livy’s Roman history in a monastery of Cistercian monks in Hungary. On the receipt of this intelligence, he immediately applied by letter to Niccolo Niccoli, not doubting but that he could persuade Cosmo de’ Medici to dispatch one Gherardo de’ Buris to the monastery where the manuscript was said to be deposited. He was also in hopes that cardinal Ursini would send a confidential agent to procure this valuable work; but in these expectations he was disappointed.[98] The testimony of Nicolaus the Swede being a few years afterwards corroborated by another traveller, Poggio wrote a letter to Leonello d’Este, Marquis of Ferrara, giving him an account of the information which he had received, and intimating, that though the authority upon which it rested was not of the highest nature, still it was worthy of attention. Whether Leonello was induced by Poggio’s letter to institute any inquiry after the manuscript in question, cannot perhaps now be ascertained. Certain it is, that the learned still lament the imperfect state of the history of Livy.[99]

Poggio had also at one time conceived hopes of obtaining from a German monk a copy of the works of Tacitus, containing many portions of that historian’s writings, which had till then lain neglected beneath the accumulated dust of ages. These hopes were likewise frustrated. By the course of events, however, it was afterwards proved that they were not void of foundation: for during the pontificate of Leo. X. an ancient manuscript containing five books of the history of Tacitus, which had been long regarded as irrecoverably lost, was found in Germany, and presented to that pontiff, according to whose directions it was deposited in the Laurentian library at Florence.[100]

Amongst the literary characters whose applause animated Poggio to persevere in his researches after the lost writers of antiquity, a place of distinguished honour is due to Ambrogio Traversari. This learned ecclesiastic was the son of Bencivenni dei Traversari, and was born on the 16th of September, 1386, in Portico, a town of Romagna. His biographers are not agreed whether his family was poor or rich, plebeian or noble.[101] It appears however from incontestible evidence, that soon after he had completed his fourteenth year, he was admitted into the Camaldolese convent Degli Angioli, at Florence, and that he there took the monastic vows, on the sixth day of November, 1401. At the time of his entrance into this religious seminary, it was governed by Matteo di Guido, a Florentine, who, happily for the welfare of the ecclesiastical fraternity committed to his care, tempered the severity, and beguiled the wearisomeness of the cloistered life, by the study of polite letters. Kindly desirous of communicating to others the pleasure which he himself experienced in literary pursuits, he personally superintended the education of the youths whom puerile enthusiasm, or parental authority, had secluded from the world within the walls of his monastery. Under the care of this enlightened superior, Ambrogio continued his Latin studies, which he had commenced under the guidance of John of Ravenna. In the Greek language he was instructed by Demetrius Scaranus, an eminent scholar, whom the alarming inroads of the Turks had caused to fly from Constantinople, and who was induced by the liberality of Matteo to read lectures on the Grecian classics, in the cloisters of this convent.[102] As Ambrogio was actuated by the genuine enthusiasm of literary zeal, he made a rapid progress in knowledge. In the prosecution of his studies, indeed, he enjoyed peculiar advantage. The retirement of the monastic life afforded him considerable leisure. The library of his convent was well furnished with books, and he had moreover the free use of the copious collection of Niccolo Niccoli, who regarded him with parental affection, and assiduously fostered his ripening talents by the most liberal patronage. Inspired by a profound veneration of the models of just taste, which are to be found in the writings of antiquity, he assiduously employed a considerable portion of his time in multiplying the copies of the classic authors: and his elegant transcripts of the works which Poggio had rescued from obscurity, at once testified his love of literature, and the high estimation in which he held the labours of his friend.[103]

After the deposition of John XXII. Poggio still remained at Constance, anxiously hoping that the appointment of a successor to that ill-fated pontiff would enable him once more to establish himself in the Roman chancery. In the prosecution of his interests, he had great dependance upon the support and patronage of Zabarella, cardinal of Florence. But his expectations of preferment from this quarter were unfortunately destroyed by the death of that illustrious ecclesiastic. [A. D. 1417.] This event, which occurred on the twenty-sixth of September, 1417, deprived the council of one of its ablest members, and Poggio of a kind and zealous friend. The obsequies of Zabarella were celebrated with extraordinary pomp; and on this occasion, Poggio fulfilled the last duties of friendship, by commemorating his virtues in a funeral oration. Impressed by the solemnity of the subject, and the dignity of his audience, he exerted in the composition of this oration the full powers of his eloquence and learning. After a modest exordium, he proceeded to give a brief account of his departed friend—he then entered into the detail of his good qualities, and concluded by an impassioned burst of sorrow for the loss which the lovers of union and peace had sustained; and by an exhortation to the assembled dignitaries to pay to their deceased brother the honours due to his virtues, and to imitate the moral graces which they had so much admired in his conduct.

Francesco Zabarella was a native of Padua. His parents, who moved in the superior circles of society, readily indulged his early love of literature, and procured him the best instructions which their city could afford. Having finished his preparatory education, Francesco applied himself to the study of the civil law, tempering the severity of this pursuit by the cultivation of polite letters. When he was arrived at years of maturity, he delivered public lectures on the science of jurisprudence. In discharging the duty of instruction, he gained the respect and love of his pupils, by the variety of his knowledge and the benevolence of his disposition. The celebrity which he acquired by the ability with which he filled the professor’s chair, attracted the notice of John XXII., who, without any solicitation on his part, nominated him to the bishopric of Florence, and afterwards raised him to the dignity of cardinal. Stimulated by an earnest desire to put an end to the schism, he successfully exerted his influence with the pontiff to induce him to assent to the wishes of the emperor of Germany, by summoning a general council; and being deputed on the part of the pope, to confer with the representatives of Sigismund, concerning the place where the council should assemble, he concurred with them in fixing, for that purpose, upon the city of Constance. He entered with great zeal into the discussion of the various subjects which engaged the attention of that renowned synod. The ardour of his mind indeed hastened his end. Engaging with uncommon warmth in a tumultuous debate, at a time when he was languid with sickness, he found himself so much exhausted, that making a last effort, he declared, that the speech which he had just concluded was his testamentary oration, and that he felt himself dying in defence of the church. He did not long survive this exertion. After a short residence at the baths of Baden, which seemed to be of service in recruiting his constitution, he returned to renew his labours at Constance, where he soon died, a victim to the ardour of his zeal, and to the unremitting toil of his exertions.[104]

In the funeral eulogium which Poggio pronounced over the remains of Zabarella, he asserts, that had the life of his friend been prolonged, he would in all probability have been invested with the pontifical purple. All orders of men now began impatiently to demand the election of a sovereign pontiff. [A. D. 1417.] In compliance with their wishes, the cardinals assembled in conclave on the tenth of November, and after the usual vehemence of dissention, they at length agreed in the nomination of Otto Colonna, who immediately after his election assumed the appellation of Martin V.[105]

Thus was terminated the famous schism of the west. Gregory XII. had died on the 18th of October preceding the election of Martin:[106] and though Benedict XIII., confident in the strength of the fortifications of Paniscola, refused to submit to the decrees of the council, and still assumed the style, and pretended to exercise the functions of the pontificate, his adherents were so few, and the tide of general opinion ran so strongly in favour of Martin V., that he was henceforth regarded rather as an object of contempt than of fear.

The council had given an awful admonition to heretics. It had also, by an extraordinary exertion of authority, effected an union of the true believers under a legitimate head. But a most important and difficult matter remained unaccomplished, namely, the reformation of the church. The newly elected pontiff listened with apparent complacence to the petitions which were from time to time preferred to him, by the various subdivisions of the council, beseeching him to prosecute this good work by all the means in his power; but he contrived by studied delays so to protract the consideration of the particular heads of reform, that the members of the assembly, weary of their long residence in Constance, were eager to embrace the first opportunity of returning to their respective homes. This opportunity was afforded them on the twenty-second day of April, 1418, on which day the pope formally dismissed the council.[107] On the sixteenth of May he left Constance, and passing through Schaffausen, he proceeded by easy stages to Geneva, where he arrived on the eleventh of June.[108] At this city he kept his court for some months. Quitting Germany on the twelfth day of September, he proceeded to Milan, and afterwards to Mantua. Here he fixed his residence during the remainder of the year, being prevented from visiting his capital by the anarchy which the long absence of legitimate authority had occasioned in the states of the church. As a grateful return for the hospitality with which he was received by the duke of Milan, he mediated a peace between that prince and Pandolfo Malatesta, who, after having taken Bergamo, had directed his march to Brescia, and by the vigour of his operations had caused the duke to tremble for the safety of the rest of his dominions.[109]

Though it does not appear that Poggio held any office under the new pontiff, he travelled in the suite of Martin V. to Mantua. At this city he suddenly quitted the Roman court with a determination to spend some time in England, to which country he had been invited by Beaufort, bishop of Winchester. This prelate, who is well known to all the admirers of Shakspeare by the title of cardinal Beaufort, was the son of the celebrated John of Gaunt, duke of Lancaster, and uncle to the reigning English monarch Henry V. whose studies he had superintended during his residence at Oxford. In the year 1397 he was elected bishop of Lincoln. After having enjoyed this promotion for the space of eight years, he succeeded William of Wickham in the see of Winchester. He was a man of boundless ambition, well versed in the crooked policy of court intrigue, and enormously rich. In the course of a pilgrimage which he undertook to make to Jerusalem, he visited the council of Constance,[110] where it is probable he first became acquainted with the merits of Poggio.

Nothing but some suddenly conceived dissatisfaction with his actual situation, or the prospect of considerable emolument, could have induced Poggio to fix his residence in Britain, a country regarded by the Italians as the remotest corner of the globe, and as the abode of ignorance and barbarity. He was in fact led to entertain great expectations by the magnificent promises of the bishop of Winchester. But when he arrived in London, he found himself doomed to the common lot of those who depend upon the patronage of the great. Beaufort wanted either leisure or inclination to minister to the wants and wishes of his guest; and Poggio began to feel all the inconveniences of straightened circumstances, aggravated by the reflection that he was situated at so serious a distance from his native land. His communication with his early friends, and the companions of his youthful years, was interrupted. He experienced the embarrassments necessarily incident to those who are thrown into a new circle of society, to the habits of which they are entirely unaccustomed; and his mind became the prey of discontent and anxiety. He was also much chagrined on observing the uncultivated state of the public mind in Britain, when compared with the enthusiastic love of elegant literature which polished and adorned his native country.[111] The period of his arrival in England has been justly pronounced by one of our most accurate historians, to be in a literary point of view one of the darkest which occur in the whole series of British annals.[112] Leland indeed and other writers enumerate long lists of scholars, whom they indiscriminately grace with the title of most learned. These champions of literature were however nothing more than monks and astrologers, who were regarded with superstitious admiration by an ignorant age, but whose works are now deservedly buried in oblivion. The occult sciences, scholastic philosophy, and the mysteries of theology, absorbed the attention of the contemptible few who advanced any pretensions to the cultivation of learning. Of the principles of composition and the graces of style they were totally ignorant—nay so imperfect was their knowledge of the Latin tongue, that almost every sentence of their writings is deformed by the barbarous introduction of English words, miserably metamorphosed by a Latin termination.[113]

The respectable author, whose opinion of the state of British literature in the fifteenth century has been quoted above, ascribes the neglect of learning which disgraces this portion of our history to the following causes.—The wars in which the English had been so long engaged against France—The schism of the west—The little encouragement afforded to learned men—and the scarcity of books.

With respect to the first of these causes, it may be observed, that a state of warfare by no means in itself precludes the extension of science, and the cultivation of letters. The most renowned luminaries of Greece flourished during the devastation of the Peloponnesian war. Julius Cæsar and Cicero were not diverted from their literary pursuits by the tumult of faction, and the din of arms. And at the time when literature was revived in Italy, the provinces of that country were frequently laid waste by hostile invasions, and its cities were agitated by the discord of contending parties. As to the second cause, namely, the distraction occasioned by the schism, it may be remarked, that though this distraction was felt to a superior degree in Italy, it did not in that country operate as the slightest check to the progress of learning.—The want of encouragement to learned men, is rather a consequence than a cause of the forlorn state of literature. Some degree of knowledge and taste is requisite to form the character of a patron of the studious.

The neglect of the liberal arts which spread the gloom of barbarism over our ancestors of the fifteenth century, may perhaps be more justly ascribed to the operation of the feudal system. This primary cause prevented that excitation of the public mind, which is necessary to the successful cultivation of literature. The feudal system was a system of strict subordination, which prescribed to every member of the political community his particular rank and place, and surrounded him by a circle, beyond which he was forbidden to pass. In the spirit of this system, till the reign of Henry IV., no farmer or mechanic was permitted to send his children to school; and long after that period, a license from his lord was necessary to enable a man of this description to educate a son for the church. Whilst the majority of the people were thus impeded in their approach to the fountains of knowledge, it was impossible for learning to raise her drooping head. The feudal superiors, exalted by the accident of their birth to the enjoyment of power and plenty, had no motive to induce them to submit to the labour of study. The younger branches of noble families were early taught to depend upon their swords for subsistence; and the acquisition of learning was an object far beyond the scope of the oppressed and humble vassal.

The influence of the feudal system in checking the progress of intellect will be more plainly visible, if we consider the circumstances of Italy during the period in question. In that country, the ambition of adventurers, and the extension of commerce, had broken the fetters of feudalism; and had enabled the bold and daring in every species of exertion to rise to the pitch of consequence which their talents could vindicate. Hence the dormant powers of the human mind were roused, and the expansion of learning and the liberal arts was promoted. The equalizing tyranny of the petty princes who usurped the sovereignty of various cities of Lombardy, whilst it repressed the power of the aristocracy, called into life the abilities of all the orders of society. The precarious title by which these chieftains held their exalted stations induced them to court popularity, by freeing the mass of the people from invidious restraints. During the residence of the popes at Avignon, and during the continuance of the schism, the feeble rule exercised by the pontifical deputies over the ecclesiastical cities enabled the inhabitants of those cities to defy the authority which endeavoured to confine their exertions within the limits of slavish subordination. The factions which disturbed the peace of the Italian republics tended also in an eminent degree to call forth the full energy of abilities, which in other circumstances would have been buried in obscurity. Great talents are too frequently united with turbulence of spirit. In times when the order of society is inverted by the tumults of civil broils, while men of peaceful souls retire trembling from the conflict, he who is endued with the energy of genius, comes forth, conscious of his strength, and despising every danger, exults in the hope of vindicating his claim to promotion.

It is evident, that these various stimulants of intellect which occurred in Italy did not occur in Britain. On this account, whilst the liberal arts were cultivated and respected in the former country, they were neglected and despised in the latter.

Another cause of incitement to the study of letters, which operated in Italy, and was wanting in Britain, arose from the subdivision of the former country into a variety of petty states. These states maintained a constant intercourse with each other, by the medium of ambassadors, who were usually selected from among the most distinguished candidates for literary fame. Thus one of the most honourable offices in the civil department of the state was presented to inflame the ambition of the studious, and the diplomatic profession became the nurse of learning.

When the wish of acquiring knowledge was excited, the numerous copies of the works of the ancients, which were scattered throughout Italy, afforded ample means of instruction; while the penury of Britain in this respect repressed the exertions of inquiry, and excluded the nascent scholar from the cultivated regions of classic taste.[114]

The vexation which Poggio experienced, when he contemplated the gloomy contrast which Britain exhibited, when compared with his native land, was encreased by the receipt of letters from Italy, informing him, that whilst he was wasting his days in the unprofitable pursuit of preferment, his late associates were enjoying, with scholastic rapture, the perusal of some valuable manuscripts, which had been discovered at Lodi by Gerardo Landriani, bishop of that city. This prelate had rescued from a heap of rubbish a very ancient copy of various works of Cicero, written in a character so antique, that few were able to decypher it. The manuscript in question contained, besides Cicero’s treatise on Rhetoric, which was already in the hands of collectors of books, the following works of the same elegant writer, which had till this period escaped the researches of the learned—The three books De Oratore, entire—Brutus de claris Oratoribus—and the Orator ad Brutum. Nobody could be found at Milan who was able to read the character in which these treatises were written. But Cosmo of Cremona, a scholar of excellent accomplishments, decyphered and copied the treatise De Oratore; and the celebrated Flavio Biondo[115] undertook and soon accomplished the task of transcribing Brutus de claris Oratoribus. From these transcripts copies were speedily multiplied, and dispersed all over Italy, while Poggio was waiting with the utmost impatience, till Leonardo Aretino could convey one of these copies to the distant region in which his friend then resided.[116]

At this inauspicious period, Poggio was filled with anxiety on account of the destitute condition of his mother, and also by the dissolute conduct of one of his brothers.[117] In these circumstances his uneasiness and vexation were greatly aggravated by the receipt of a letter from Niccolo Niccoli, containing grievous complaints against Leonardo Aretino, and informing him, that the bond of friendship, by which his correspondent and Leonardo had for so long a space of time been united, was for ever sundered.

The quarrel which took place between Leonardo Aretino and Niccolo Niccoli, originated in a cause, which has, in every age, been productive of the fiercest and most fatal contentions, namely, the uncontrolled gratification of the passion, or rather of the appetite, of love. The following are the principal circumstances which gave rise to this unfortunate disagreement. Giovanni, the younger brother of Niccolo, kept a mistress of the name of Benvenuta. As the two brothers resided in the same house, Niccolo had frequent opportunities of seeing this syren, whose charms and allurements gained such an ascendancy over his better principles, that after having for some time carried on an intrigue with her in private, he at length, in defiance of all decency, openly robbed his brother of his fair companion, and established Benvenuta in his own apartments.[118] It may easily be imagined, that Giovanni did not tamely submit to such an injury. In consequence of his resentment, the neighbourhood was daily disturbed by the outrages of fraternal discord. One of the worst effects produced by such disgraceful connections as that which Niccolo had formed with Benvenuta, is the absolute ascendancy which artful and wicked women thereby gain over men of weak minds; and which they uniformly exercise, in setting their lovers at variance with their relations and friends. The history of Niccolo confirms the truth of this observation. By the crafty insinuations of his mistress his affections were alienated from those with whom he had formerly been united by the bonds of consanguinity and friendship. Influenced by her suggestions, he dropped all intercourse with his five brothers, and quarrelled with Lorenzo de’ Medici, whom he had till this unfortunate transaction been proud to enumerate amongst his dearest associates. In the height of her insolence, Benvenuta had the audacity to defame the character of the wife of Jacopo, one of the brothers of Niccolo. Jacopo, for some time, endured her insolence with patient contempt; but at length exasperated by her petulance, he asked the advice, and demanded the assistance of his brothers. They sympathized with him in his resentment, and readily gave him the aid which he required. Proceeding to the house of Niccolo, they seized the termagant beauty, and exalting her on the back of one of their attendants, to the great amusement of the by-standers, they inflicted on her a species of chastisement, in the administration of which convenience and severity are consulted much more than modesty. Niccolo was a helpless witness of the pain and disgrace suffered by Benvenuta. This spectacle had such an effect on his feelings, that, vowing vengeance against his brothers, he retired to his house, and delivered himself up to the most immoderate transports of grief. Hearing that he was thus afflicted, several of his acquaintance paid him visits of condolence, from which they returned, ridiculing his folly, and fully persuaded that his anger had impaired his reason. In this conjuncture, Leonardo Aretino, being aware that Niccolo was not in a mood to listen with patience to the remonstrances which he thought it his duty to make to him on the extravagance of his conduct, cautiously avoided going to his house. This circumstance did not escape the observation of the mourner, who sent word to Leonardo, that he was surprised that he had not received from him the common offices of friendly consolation. To this message Leonardo replied, that he was surprised that Niccolo should expect consolation from his friends on so trifling a subject of sorrow as the chastisement of his cook-maid; and that he thought it was time for him to put an end to his folly. This message added fuel to the flame of Niccolo’s wrath. He now kept no measures with Leonardo; but abjured his friendship, and eagerly embraced every opportunity of inveighing against him with the utmost bitterness.[119] Leonardo did not submit with patience to the angry maledictions of his former associate. In a bitter invective which he published against Niccolo, under the designation of Nebulo Maleficus, he returned railing for railing; and, notwithstanding the mediation of their common acquaintance, and, amongst the rest of Poggio, the breach of friendship which had been thus unhappily occasioned by the intemperate passions of Niccolo, daily became wider.[120]

Whilst the feelings of Poggio were thus wounded by the dissension of his dearest friends, he earnestly solicited from his patron some recompense for the long journey which he had undertaken, at his invitation, and in reliance on his promises of preferment and support. His solicitations were for a long time entirely fruitless. He found, by mortifying experience, that men of exalted rank are much more ready to make promises than to fulfil their engagements. “At length,” to adopt his own expression, “the mountain laboured, and produced a mouse.” The wealthy and powerful Bishop of Winchester presented his client with a benefice, the annual income of which was nominally one hundred and twenty florins; but in consequence of various deductions, its revenues did not in fact amount even to that inconsiderable sum. Poggio had always entertained great objections to the clerical life. His objections were not founded upon a contempt of the institutions of religion. On the contrary, they proceeded from the exalted idea which he entertained of the duties of the clerical office. Sensible, as he himself says in a letter to Niccolo Niccoli, of the serious charge which they impose upon themselves, who undertake the cure of souls, he was diffident of his qualifications to execute the duties of an office, the faithful discharge of which demanded the most indefatigable industry, and the most scrupulous correctness of moral conduct.[121] Influenced by these considerations, which certainly bear very satisfactory testimony to the purity of his principles, though he was soon promoted to a much richer living, he wished to exchange it for a benefice without cure of souls. To meet his wishes in this respect a canonicate was offered him; but it is uncertain whether this arrangement was perfected.[122] However this may be, he was weary of his residence in England, and impatiently longed to return to his native land. At this juncture, he received from Italy two proposals, the one on the part of Alamano Adimaro, Archbishop of Pisa and Cardinal of St. Eusebius, who invited him to accept the office of Secretary to the Roman pontiff; the other from Piero Lamberteschi, who offered him a situation, the nature of which is not precisely known, but which was probably that of public professor in one of the Italian universities. Poggio seems to have received the proposal of Lamberteschi with considerable satisfaction. On this subject he thus expresses himself in a letter to Niccolo Niccoli.

“The day before yesterday, I received two letters from you, and one from Piero Lamberteschi. These letters I have read with great attention. I am pleased with Piero’s plan, and I think I shall follow your advice. He says, that he will do his endeavour to procure me five hundred gold florins for three years’ services. Make them six hundred, and I will agree to the proposal. He lays before me flattering hopes of future profitable contingencies, and I am inclined to believe, that these hopes may probably be realized: yet I think it more prudent to covenant for something, than to depend upon hope alone. I like the employment to which he invites me, and I hope I shall produce something worth reading; but for this purpose, as I have informed him, I must be indulged with leisure and retirement.”

The invitation of the cardinal of St. Eusebius was not so satisfactory to the wishes of Poggio. In the letter from which the foregoing extracts have been made, he thus expresses himself.

“I observe what the cardinal writes on the subject of the secretaryship. If I had valued that office as highly as some do, I should long ago have returned to Rome. I have less esteem for the pontificate and its members, than they imagine; for I wish to be a free man, and not a public slave. Ratify the offers of Piero, and you shall see that I shall avoid the Roman court with more diligence than many people would be apt to believe. I must earnestly request that you will not communicate my plans to any one, since we are ignorant of what may happen—for man proposes, but God directs the issues of things.”[123]

The event of these negociations demonstrated the prudence of Poggio, in not precipitately rejecting the invitation of Adimaro. Some obstacle intervened to prevent the execution of the plan proposed by Lamberteschi; and we may estimate the impatience with which Poggio endured his exile from Italy, by the undoubted fact, that notwithstanding the above confession of his dislike of the pontifical court, he accepted the office of Secretary to Martin V. He accordingly quitted England, where his hopes had been so severely disappointed, and after a journey, of the incidents of which no record appears in his works, he once more took up his residence at Rome.

It is very probable, that Poggio communicated to his Italian correspondents an account of the remarkable circumstances which he observed in the course of his journey to England, and of his return to his native land. It is also reasonable to suppose, that some of the letters which he wrote from this country would contain his opinion of the manners and customs of our ancestors. If this was the case, we have reason to lament that these interesting documents are not yet made public. Though incidental mention is frequently made in the works of Poggio, of his residence in Britain, he never dwells upon this topic. A trait of the manners of the English in the fifteenth century occurs in his dialogue on Nobility, in which he thus notices the English aristocracy.—“The nobles of England deem it disgraceful to reside in cities, and prefer living in retirement in the country. They estimate the degree of a man’s nobility by the extent of his estates. Their time is occupied in agricultural pursuits, and they trade in wool and sheep, not thinking it at all derogatory to their dignity to be engaged in the sale of the produce of their lands. I have known a wealthy merchant, who had closed his mercantile concerns, vested his money in land, and retired into the country, become the founder of a noble race; and I have seen him freely admitted into the society of the most illustrious families. Many persons also of ignoble blood have been advanced to the honours of nobility by the favour of their sovereign, which they have merited by their warlike achievements.”[124]

In his Historia Disceptativa Convivialis, he relates another trait of the manners of our forefathers, which he records as an instance of their politeness. A splenetic traveller would probably have quoted it as a proof of their love of good living. “The English,” says he, “if they meet with any one at whose table they have dined, even if the rencounter should take place ten days after the feast, thank him for his good entertainment; and they never omit this ceremony, lest they should be thought insensible of his kindness.”[125]

From the following story, which Poggio has chronicled in his Facetiæ, we learn, that at this early period the English were addicted to the practice of diverting themselves at the expense of their brethren on the other side of St. George’s channel, and that when he visited this country, an Irishman was already become the common hero of an English tale of absurdity.

“When I was in England, I heard a curious anecdote of an Irish captain of a ship. In the midst of a violent storm, when all hands had given themselves over for lost, he made a vow, that if his ship should be saved from the imminent danger which threatened to overwhelm her, he would make an offering at the church of the Virgin Mary of a waxen taper, as large as the main-mast. One of the crew observing that it would be impossible to discharge this vow, since all the wax in England would not be sufficient to make such a taper,—hold your tongue, said the captain, and do not trouble yourself with calculating whether I can perform my promise or not, provided we can escape the present peril.”[126]

CHAP. IV.

State of Italy during Poggio’s residence in England—Martin V. retires to Florence—Retrospect of the history of that city—Martin is dissatisfied with the conduct of the Florentines—Baldassare Cossa is liberated from confinement, and submits to the authority of Martin V.—His death—Martin V. transfers his court to Rome—A reconciliation is effected between Leonardo Aretino and Niccolo Niccoli—Poggio’s letter to Leonardo on this event—Council of Pavia—The council is transferred to Siena, and there dissolved—Hostility of Alfonso of Arragon against Martin V.—Unsuccessful attempts to crush the reformers in Germany—Termination of the schism—Poggio’s dialogue on Avarice—The Fratres Observantiæ satirized by Poggio—Poggio excites displeasure by curbing the zeal of the Fratres Observantiæ—His letter on this subject—His opinion of the monastic life and itinerant preachers—Reflections.

CHAP. IV.

Whilst Poggio was living in a kind of exile in England, the sovereign pontiff was in a manner banished from his capital. On his arrival in Italy, Martin V. found the states of the church in the hands of troops of banditti, who had taken advantage of the disorders of the times, to spread ruin and devastation through every quarter of the pontifical dominions. The passes, and places of strength, were so generally occupied by these adventurers, who were in the pay of a noted chieftain, named Braccio di Montone, that the pontiff did not dare to expose himself to their outrages, by attempting to establish himself in Rome. The inhabitants of Bologna also, espousing the cause of John XXII., had shut their gates against him. He was therefore reduced to the necessity of taking refuge in some friendly territory. In this extremity, the Florentines offered him an asylum, and Martin accordingly removed his court from Mantua to their city, into which he made his public entry with extraordinary pomp, on the twenty-sixth of February, 1419.[127] His residence in Florence did not, however, produce within his mind any friendly sentiments towards his hosts. The Florentines indeed, by their behaviour to their illustrious guest, greatly diminished the value of the favour which they had conferred upon him, in affording him a place of rest. At this period, they were elated with the self-confidence occasioned by a long series of almost uninterrupted prosperity. Filippo, who upon the death of his brother, Giovanni Maria, had succeeded to the ducal throne of Milan, disclaiming the hostile views of his predecessors, had lived in a state of friendship with his Tuscan neighbours, and did not even interpose to prevent them from reducing the district of Pisa under their dominion. In the year 1408 the repose of the Florentines had been disturbed by an invasion of their territories by Ladislaus, king of Naples, who had taken possession of a considerable portion of the ecclesiastical states; but with the assistance of Louis of Anjou, they had discomfited the usurper, and had expelled him from the dominions of the church. By his death, which happened in the year 1414, they had been freed from all fear of hostile incursions, and for the space of five years from that event, they had enjoyed the blessing of peace. During this period they had extended their commerce, and greatly encreased their opulence and power. In the insolence of their pride, they looked upon the wandering pontiff with contempt. Insensible to those delicate impulses which prompt man to regard the unfortunate with respect, they wantonly published the sentiments of their hearts; and Martin was irritated and disgusted by hearing his name made the subject of ridicule, and the burden of contumelious songs.[128] The Florentine populace were betrayed into these violations of decorum by their attachment to the interests of Braccio di Montone; and this undisguised partiality to his enemy exasperated the indignation of the pontiff. Yielding, however, to the pressure of circumstances, he was persuaded, by the solicitations of the Florentine government, to agree to terms of pacification with Braccio, whom he invested, in quality of Vicar of the church, with the government of the cities of Perugia, Assisi, Jesi, and Todi; in return for which condescension, the rebellious chieftain gave up to the pontiff the towns of Narni, Terni, Orvieto, and Orta.[129] Braccio being thus reconciled to the head of the church, and being encouraged by the promise of an ample recompense for his services, turned his arms against his late brethren in rebellion; and reduced the Bolognese to submission to the Roman see.[130]

During these transactions, Cosmo de’ Medici, who had been united by the strictest ties of friendship to Baldassare Cossa, the deposed pontiff, was very urgent in his petitions to Martin V. to liberate his unfortunate predecessor from confinement. Martin at length graciously assented to Cosmo’s request; and despatched the necessary orders to Heidleberg. But the impatience of Baldassare, who was weary of seclusion from the world, had already stimulated him to purchase his freedom from the Count Palatine, (to whose custody he had been assigned) at the price of thirty thousand pieces of gold. Having thus obtained his liberty, he crossed the Alps, and arrived safely in Italy. The well-known turbulence of his spirit led many to expect that he would reclaim the pontifical honours, and distract the Christian church by a renewal of the schism. But to the surprise of every body, he repaired with all convenient speed to Florence, where he arrived on the 13th of May, 1419, and there, kissing the feet of Martin, he acknowledged him as the only true and legitimate successor of St. Peter. The spectators of this extraordinary scene were melted into tears, and the compassion and generosity of the pontiff were excited by this unexpected act of submission. Deeply affected by the serious instance of the instability of human greatness, which was thus presented before his eyes, Martin received his humble predecessor with kindness; and endeavoured to alleviate his sense of the degradation which he had experienced, by creating him cardinal, and bishop of Toscolano. The haughty spirit of Baldassare did not long undergo the mortification of witnessing the pomp and splendour of which he had been so rudely deprived. He died at Florence, on the twenty-second day of December, and was interred with much pomp in the church of St. John. Cosmo de’ Medici erected to his honour a magnificent monument, on which he caused to be engraven the following simple inscription: BALTHASSARIS COSSÆ IOHANNIS XXII. QUONDAM PAPÆ CORPUS HOC TUMULO CONDITUM.[131] Platina asserts in his Lives of the Popes, that Baldassare, at the time of his death was possessed of immense treasures, which were inherited or seized by the family of the Medici; and in this assertion he has been copied by subsequent writers. But Muratori maintains, on the contrary, that it is clearly proved by his last will, that the deposed pontiff died poor rather than rich.[132]

The territories of the church being restored to peace by the active exertions of Braccio di Montone, and no obstacle remaining to prevent the pontiff from visiting his capital, he departed from Florence and proceeded to Rome, to which city he was welcomed by the enthusiastic joy of the populace, on the twenty-second of September, 1420.

The Pontifical household being once more regularly established in the capital of the church, Poggio, as it has been before observed, was induced, by the invitation of the cardinal of St. Eusebius, to accept the office of Secretary. The time of his arrival in Rome may be fixed sometime in the spring of 1423,[133] and it appears that his first care, after his re-establishment in the sacred chancery, was to renew with his friends the personal and epistolary communication, which his long absence from Italy had interrupted. The unfortunate quarrel of Leonardo Aretino and Niccolo Niccoli also engaged his early attention. Nothing is more painful to a man of an ingenuous mind, than the occurrence of dissension between those for whom he entertains an equal degree of friendly regard. Poggio, therefore, embraced the first opportunity which presented itself, of exerting his utmost endeavours to effect a reconciliation between the angry disputants. A long letter, which Leonardo had dispatched to him during his residence in London, with the view of giving him a full account of the cause of this disgraceful strife, had never reached him; but soon after his arrival at Rome, Leonardo supplied this deficiency by sending him a copy of this letter, which he had kept for the inspection of his other friends.[134] Poggio soon found, that in his endeavours to terminate this unhappy difference, he was likely to experience as serious obstacles in the wounded pride of Leonardo, as in the infatuated wrath of Niccolo.[135] In this difficult affair, therefore, he thought it advisable to avail himself of the assistance of the common friends of both parties. Ambrogio Traversari had already, indeed, interposed his good offices to bring about the desired reconciliation, but without effect.[136] Poggio however conceived great hopes, that the mediation of Francesco Barbaro, for whom Leonardo entertained a high degree of respect, would have considerable weight; and when that eminent scholar, being vested with the office of ambassador extraordinary of the Venetian Republic, paid a visit to Rome,[137] where he was met by Leonardo, he flattered himself that the reconciliation which he so ardently wished would be effected. Francesco was equally desirous with Poggio to discharge the duties of a peace-maker; but he found Leonardo so determined upon requiring from his antagonist a very ample apology for his conduct, that he was almost induced to give up the cause in despair: and Leonardo, being perhaps apprehensive that at the time of his departure from Rome his friends would renew their efforts to shake his resolution, withdrew from the city in so sudden and secret a manner, that Poggio had not an opportunity of taking leave of him. For this conduct the latter gently reproved his friend in a letter, in which he stated to him his opinion, that in his affair with Niccolo, it was by no means advisable to use recrimination, or to demand an apology, and that nothing was requisite but a mutual oblivion of the past. “Remember,” says he, “that it is the characteristic of a great mind, to forget and not to revenge injuries, and that the duties of friendship are paramount to all other considerations. You seem to me to attach too much importance to trifles, which it will be more conducive to your glory to despise, than to make them the subjects of serious concern.”[138] In a second letter on the same subject he informed Leonardo, that he could not, without the utmost vexation, witness the interruption of a friendship which had been established on the best foundation of mutual esteem, and which had continued for so long a period; and that his concern was much increased, when he observed that their disagreement was detrimental to the good fame of both parties.[139] In this letter he grants, that Niccolo has his failings, but reminds his correspondent, that imperfection is the common lot of mortality, and that it is our duty, according to the instructions of the apostle, to bear one another’s burdens.[140]

The obstinacy of Leonardo for some time withstood the solicitations of his friends. But Francesco Barbaro, proceeding from Rome to Florence, laboured with such earnestness and prudence to allay the heat of his resentment, that he at length consented once more to enrol Niccolo in the number of his friends. The news of this event drew from Poggio a letter of thanks and congratulation to the mediator, and the following prudent and friendly admonition to Leonardo.

“I have just received intelligence of an event, the most delightful which could possibly have occurred at the present time; namely, the reconciliation which has taken place between you and Niccolo. This circumstance inspires me with the greatest pleasure, especially because it proves that you do not belie the promise of your former years; but that you support the consistency of your excellent character. It must now be your care to act with such prudence, that this reconciliation may be improved into a renewal of friendship. It is not enough that your hatred is at an end. Love and kind affection must succeed in the place of animosity. These are the indications of an upright, ingenuous, and virtuous mind. Reassume then I beseech you, that familiar and friendly intercourse with Niccolo, which I have for so long a space of time witnessed with so much pleasure. Carefully avoid every thing which may tend to impair your mutual good will; and act in such a manner that this reconciliation may appear to have been effected, not merely by the interposition of your friends, but by your own free will, and with your hearty concurrence. By your conduct you have obtained the greatest glory, and I trust you will find it the source of the most exquisite pleasure. I can assure you that this event has given the utmost satisfaction to all our friends at Rome—I say our friends; for I have the happiness of being connected by the bonds of friendship with all your associates in the pontifical court. The reputation which you have acquired by your conduct in this affair, you must support by perseverance and firmness of mind; for your late enmity would soon have injured the reputation both of yourself and of Niccolo. By your reconciliation however you have maintained your dignity, and conciliated the esteem of the virtuous and the learned. I have written a short letter to Niccolo, and am anxious to receive his answer; for I am surprised that neither you nor he should have given me the least intimation of this event; especially when you were both fully sensible how much I was interested in it.”[141]

In the thirty-ninth session of the council of Constance it had been decreed, that for the suppression and prevention of heresy and schism, at the end of five years after the dissolution of the existing council, another should be summoned; a third at the expiration of seven years from the breaking up of the second; and that after these extraordinary meetings, general councils should be regularly held once in every ten years. At the expiration of the prescribed term, therefore, Martin V. according to the tenor of the first head of this decree, summoned the representatives of the different nations of Christendom to repair to Pavia. [A. D. 1423.] Nothing however having lately occurred, particularly to interest the Christian powers in the proceedings of the Roman hierarchy, the inconsiderable numbers of this assembly formed a striking contrast with the multitudes who had a few years before this time flocked on a similar occasion to the city of Constance. The plague having made its appearance in Pavia, the council was removed to Siena, where it began to be more numerously frequented. Alfonso, king of Arragon, took this opportunity of supporting, in opposition to Martin V., the pretensions of Piero da Luna, who still assumed the name of Benedict XIII. and maintained a sort of pontifical splendour in the fortress of Paniscola. Alfonso was prompted thus to trouble the peace of the church, by the resentment which he felt against Martin, in consequence of that pontiff’s refusing to acknowledge the legitimacy of his pretensions to the throne of Naples. On the death of Ladislaus, the crown of that distracted realm was inherited by his sister, Johanna II.,[142] who soon after her accession married Jacques, count of La Marche, a prince of the royal blood of France. The ambition of Jacques, who, not contented with administering the government in the name of his wife, wished to be acknowledged as sovereign paramount of the kingdom, occasioned serious disputes between him and Joanna, which terminated in his being obliged to quit the territories of Naples, and flee to France. Soon after his arrival in that country he renounced the pursuit of secular concerns, and assumed the habit of the Franciscan order. In this conjuncture, Louis III. of Anjou revived the claims of his house upon the throne of Naples, and marched into Italy, at the head of a considerable army, with the intention of prosecuting his rights by the sword.[143] Seeing the necessity of opposing against this invader an adversary of distinguished abilities, Joanna adopted as her son, Alfonso, king of Arragon, a prince of great courage and military skill, by whose active exertions, Louis of Anjou was soon driven from the Neapolitan territories. The adopted son of Joanna being unfortunately influenced by the views of her late husband, and wishing to rule by his own sole authority, that princess was justly disgusted by his ingratitude, and in the year 1423, she annulled the act of his adoption, substituting in his place his rival, the duke of Anjou. This circumstance gave rise to an obstinate war between the two parties, in the commencement of which Martin entered into an alliance with Louis, and by bestowing on him the investiture of the kingdom of Naples, supported his claims, in opposition to those of Alfonso. Prompted by the spirit of revenge, the Arragonese monarch exerted all his influence to raise a party against Martin in the council of Siena. The pontiff, alarmed by the intrigues of Alfonso, hastily dissolved that assembly early in the year 1424, summoning another to meet at the end of seven years, in the city of Basil.[144]

But the dissolution of the council did not shelter Martin from the consequences of Alfonso’s indignation. Braccio di Montone, taking advantage of the embarrassments of the pontiff, again invaded the states of the church; and after making himself master of several towns in the ecclesiastical district, laid siege to Aquila. Alarmed by the loss of these places, and apprehensive, that should Braccio make himself master of Aquila, he would in fact keep Rome itself in a state of blockade, the pontiff applied for succour to Joanna of Naples, and by the assistance of that princess raised a considerable body of forces, which he sent to stop the career of the invader. In this expedition the army of the church was signally successful. Braccio quitting a most advantageous position, advanced to give battle to the pontifical troops in the open field, on the second day of June, 1424. The encounter of his cavalry was fierce and impetuous; but in consequence of his rashness, his army was defeated, and Braccio himself, being mortally wounded, was carried prisoner into Aquila, where he died in the course of a few hours after his arrival. His body was conveyed to Rome, and buried without the walls in unconsecrated ground. By the death of Braccio, the pontiff recovered Perugia, Assisi, and the other cities, which the successful rebellion of that chieftain had compelled him to yield to his dominion. The states of the church were now restored to tranquillity. The roads were cleared of the banditti by which they had been so long infested—the traveller journeyed without molestation or fear—the laws were respected, and peace and order succeeded to anarchy and rapine.[145] The quiet of the church was also further secured by the death of Benedict XIII., who in the beginning of this year closed his earthly career at Paniscola, at the advanced age of ninety.[146] In the summer of this year, the Pontiff having retired to Tivoli to avoid the plague, which was raging in Rome, Poggio went to Rieti, where he remained two months, entirely occupied with literary pursuits. This appears from a letter addressed by him to Niccolo Niccoli after his return to Rome, in which he laments the loss of a brother on whom he had depended as the support of his family, and especially of his mother, who was then labouring under the evils of old age and sickness.[147]

About this time Martin had an opportunity of gratifying the animosity which he entertained against the Florentines, by secretly fomenting certain disputes which had taken place between the administrators of their republic and the duke of Milan. Encouraged by the connivance of the pontiff, that prince declared war against the Tuscan state, the territories of which he menaced with a considerable army. In the course of this contest, which was singularly obstinate and bloody, the pontiff had the satisfaction of retaining in his own hands the balance of power; and of beholding the supercilious Tuscans, humbled by disasters and defeats, suing to him for assistance, and entreating his mediation for the restoration of peace. Martin, though he professed the strictest impartiality between the hostile parties, not only refused to assist the Florentines, but still continued secretly to stimulate the ambition of their adversary. Being thus disappointed in their application to the pontiff, the Florentines had recourse to the Venetians, whose dread of the growing power of the duke of Milan induced them readily to enter into an alliance with his antagonists. Animated by this accession of strength, the Florentines prosecuted the war with renewed vigour, and with such success, that the duke was glad to accept of the mediation opportunely proffered by his friend the pontiff, under whose auspices a peace was concluded at Ferrara in the year 1428.[148]

When the pontiff had declared his readiness to interpose his good offices between the contending powers, for the restoration of peace, the Florentines sent Leonardo Aretino to the Roman court, invested with the dignity of embassador of the Tuscan republic.[149] In the nomination of their representative, they gratified the wishes of Martin V. who had long entertained a great respect for Leonardo, and had in vain attempted, by the offer of considerable preferment, to induce him to enter into his service.[150] So highly did Leonardo’s constituents approve of his conduct in his diplomatic capacity, that immediately after his return to Florence, in the latter end of the year 1427, they appointed him to fill the honourable and lucrative office of Secretary or Vice-chancellor of the Florentine state. If credit may be given to his own assertion in a letter to Feltrino Boiardo, he accepted this dignity with reluctance, and lamented the imperious necessity, which compelled him, from a sense of duty, to relinquish the pleasures of literary retirement, for the cares incident to a public station.[151] His reluctance is, however, otherwise accounted for in an epistle which Poggio wrote to him on this occasion, and from which it appears, that when the office in question was first offered to his acceptance, it was proposed that the marks of dignity usually attached to it should be withdrawn; but that on his refusal to accept it on those conditions, the administrators of the government agreed to confer upon him the full honours which had been received by preceding Vice-chancellors, to which terms he acceded. When Poggio was informed that his friend was established in his new office, he congratulated him by letter on this accession to his civic honours, which, however, he observed, was, like matrimony, likely to be attended with considerable difficulty, trouble, and uneasiness.[152]

The satisfaction which Martin V. experienced in witnessing the peaceful and happy condition of that portion of Christendom, the civil interests of which were intrusted to his immediate care, was not a little lessened by the contumacy and rebellion of the Bohemian reformers. These high-spirited men had been fired with indignation, when they were informed of the sad catastrophe of their beloved apostles, John Huss, and Jerome of Prague. The censures of the church, which were fulminated against their opinions, they treated with contempt. Taking advantage of the weakness of Winceslaus, their king, they possessed themselves of several churches in Prague and its environs, where they caused the communion to be administered in both kinds, and openly defied the pope, the emperor, and the council of Constance. Upon the death of Winceslaus, their confidence in their strength, and the ardour of their zeal, impelled them to risk a contest with the power of Sigismund, his successor. Led on by the intrepid Zisca, they encountered danger without fear; and in the shock of battle, their impetuosity was irresistible. For the space of four years, the military talents of their favourite commander discomfited the armies of the emperor, who was at length reduced to the mortifying necessity of entering into a treaty with a man, whom he could regard in no other light than as an obstinate infidel, and a rebellious subject. This treaty was interrupted by the death of Zisca, who was cut off by the plague, on the sixth of October, 1424, at the castle of Priscow. After the death of this formidable antagonist, Sigismund, in hopes that the courage of the Bohemians would expire with their chieftain, again appealed to arms. But he was disappointed in his expectation. Great occasions produce great men. The heretics chose as the successor to Zisca, Procopius, an officer whose valour and skill they had frequently seen put to the proof. Procopius maintained the contest with courage, conduct, and success, and worsted the imperial forces in various engagements. The intelligence of these continued disasters filled the mind of the pontiff with vexation. Resolving to aid the emperor with the temporal and spiritual power of the church, he proclaimed a crusade against the heretics, and sent a commission to cardinal Beaufort, authorizing him, in quality of legate, to wield the sword of the church, and chastise her rebellious sons. This commission was by no means disagreeable to the turbulent spirit of Beaufort. In pursuance of the instructions which he received from the pontiff, he appropriated to the purposes of the crusade, a tenth part of the revenues which accrued from England to the Roman see.[153] With this money he raised an army of four thousand men, at the head of which he encamped in the neighbourhood of Dover, waiting for a favourable wind to pass over to Flanders. [A. D. 1429.] Here he received letters from the duke of Gloucester, regent of the kingdom, requesting him to transport his troops into France, and march to the assistance of the duke of Bedford, who was at that time hard pressed by the Dauphin. In compliance with the regent’s request, Beaufort repaired with his army to Paris, whence he soon afterwards proceeded to Bohemia. The terrors of the crusade, thus aided by the power of the cardinal legate, did not dismay the heretics, who rushed to the combat with unabated fury, and routed the army of the church. The pontiff, sensibly mortified by this disaster, and attributing the ill success of his arms to the imprudence of Beaufort, recalled that haughty prelate, substituting in his place Bartolomeo da Piacenza. The new legate was not more fortunate than his predecessor. The orthodox army still continued to experience a series of defeats. Hoping that a change of his representative might effect a change in the fortune of his arms, Martin superseded Bartolomeo da Piacenza, and committed the direction of the war to Giuliano Cæsarino, Cardinal of St. Angelo.[154]

This was one of the last acts of the pontificate of Martin V., who died on the 20th of February, 1431. Though this pontiff was unable to accomplish the extinction of heresy, he had the good fortune to witness the termination of the famous schism of the West. Benedict XII. dying at Paniscola in the year 1424, two cardinals who had adhered to him in the midst of his misfortunes, at the instance of Alfonso of Arragon elected as his successor the Canonico Egidio of Barcelona, who, accepting the empty title bestowed upon him by this diminutive conclave, assumed the appellation of Clement VII. But soon after this transaction, Martin, having composed his differences with Alfonso, sent a legate into Spain, who easily persuaded Egidio, in consideration of the gift of the bishopric of Majorca, to abdicate the vain honours which rendered him ridiculous, and to renounce all claim to the pontifical dignity. In order to prevent the cardinals who had placed the tiara on the head of Egidio from again disturbing the peace of the church by proceeding to a new election, the Italian legate caused them to be arrested and thrown into prison.[155]

Thus were the latter days of Martin V. passed in a state of tranquillity, which was disturbed only by the rumours of the distant war in Bohemia, and by a transitory revolt of the citizens of Bologna, who, after a feeble attempt to vindicate their freedom, were soon reduced to their wonted subjection. The fear of the plague, indeed, which at this period occasionally manifested itself at Rome, compelled the Pontiff to fly for safety to the neighbouring villages. When on these hasty removals his master required his attendance, Poggio devoted himself to a careful examination of the remains of antiquity, which were to be found in the places where the Papal court from time to time fixed its temporary residence. But whenever he was enabled to return to Rome, he took advantage of this period of domestic quiet to prosecute his studies.[156] He was now deeply engaged in the composition and correction of various works, and among the rest, of his dialogue on Avarice, which he submitted to the inspection of Niccolo Niccoli and others of his literary friends, in the year 1429. In the prefatory address to Francesco Barbaro, which is prefixed to this dialogue, he intimates, that he had not yet made a sufficient progress in the Greek language to be able to present to the public what was at that time held in the highest estimation—a version of any of the Græcian classics; but at the same time expresses his hopes, that this his first essay may be deemed not altogether destitute of merit. It should seem, however, that when he had given the last polish to his work, he was induced for a while to suppress it. Martin V. was impeached of the vice of avarice; and his secretary, whilst he did ample justice to the kind feelings of his master, was doubtful how far it would be prudent, by the publication of his dialogue, to run the risk of the imputation of making his sole failing the object of satirical comment.[157] Besides this, Niccolo Niccoli, in perusing the work in question, without reserve declared his opinion that it was by no means worthy of the known talents of the author.[158] Encouraged however by the flattering encomiums of Francesco Barbaro, and others of his literary friends, to whom he had communicated his manuscript, and emboldened by the consciousness which he felt, that when compared with the productions of the times, his dialogue was possessed of considerable merit, he yielded to the suggestions of scholastic ambition; and immediately after the death of Martin V. by its publication proclaimed himself a candidate for the laurel of literary fame.[159]

In the introduction to the dialogue on Avarice, Poggio intimates that Antonio Lusco, Cincio, and others of the pope’s secretaries, paying a visit to Bartolomeo di Montepulciano, the conversation after supper turned upon the character of Bernardino,[160] a famous preacher who was at that time exercising his talents at Rome. After a very favourable testimony to this preacher’s merits on the part of Lusco, Cincio observes, “In one respect both Bernardino and other preachers of the same description seem to me to fall into an error. They do not preach with a view of doing good, but for the purpose of displaying their eloquence. They are not so anxious to cure the mental diseases which they profess to heal, as to obtain the favour and applause of the mob. They learn a few phrases by heart, and utter them indiscriminately before audiences of every description. Treating of recondite and obscure matters, they soar beyond the comprehension of the vulgar, and tickle the ears of women and fools, whom they dismiss as ignorant as they found them. Some vices they reprove in such a manner that they seem rather to teach, than to correct them, and in their thirst for gain, they forget the promotion of the cause of religion.”

After various other observations have been made on the defects of the preachers of that time, Bartolomeo remarks, that though luxury and avarice are the most copious sources of vice, these failings are rarely reprehended from the pulpit; or if at any time they happen to become the subject of clerical animadversion, they are treated in a dry, jejune and ludicrous manner, without dignity of thought or energy of expression. He therefore proposes that the company then assembled should, in a friendly conversation, enter into a discussion of the nature of these vices. To this proposal Lusco assents, expressing, however, his opinion, that it will be advisable for them to confine themselves to the subject of Avarice. While they are arranging the order in which they are to deliver their sentiments, they are joined by Andrew of Constantinople, a man of great erudition, and the most respectable character. After the interchange of the customary salutations, the new guest is informed of the proposed subject of discourse, and Bartolomeo proceeds to utter an eloquent invective against Avarice. This oration being ended, Lusco replies in extenuation of that vice, and in the course of his harangue reprobates the opposite error of luxury and extravagance. Lusco’s speech displays considerable ingenuity. The most striking passages which it contains are levelled against the professors of the civil law, and against the mendicant friars, both which descriptions of men are treated with great severity. Alluding to the latter, Lusco says, “Look through the whole city—the market—the streets—the churches—and if you can find any body who professes that he wishes for no more than a bare sufficiency, depend upon it you have found a prodigious rarity. Do not cite as instances in contradiction to my assertion, those slovenly hypocritical vagabonds, who, under the pretext of religion, get their living without labour, and make their pretended poverty and contempt of worldly things a most copious source of gain. A well constituted state will not encourage these lazy rogues, but it will prefer those citizens who are willing to work for the benefit of the human race.”[161]

Andrew of Constantinople, in quality of moderator, replies to Lusco, and points out the distinction which the latter had artfully confounded, between a desire of the good things of life, and Avarice. This desire, says he, if moderate, is virtuous; if immoderate, it degenerates into covetousness, and becomes a vice. He then proceeds to answer the arguments of Lusco in regular order. In the course of his harangue he takes occasion to stigmatize the avaricious disposition of sovereign princes, and of the clergy; and in conclusion he supports his opinion by various quotations from the fathers and the ancient classic authors. The remarks of Andrew meeting the approbation of his auditors, the conference is closed.[162]

In the sentiments of disapprobation with which the good taste of Poggio led him to regard the harangues of the popular preachers of his time, he is supported by the weighty suffrage of Tiraboschi. “Some of the sacred orators of the fifteenth century,” says that judicious critic, “are mentioned with praise, not merely by vulgar and unpolished, but also by the most cultivated writers.—On the other hand, we have an opportunity of inspecting the discourses of these famed orators; and generally speaking, we cannot see in them the shadow of that eloquence for which they are so highly commended. Let any one read the sermons of S. Bernardino da Siena, Fra Roberto da Lecce, B. Alberto da Sarteano, Fra Michele da Carcano, and of many others, who, as the writers of that age inform us, attracted whole cities and provinces to hear them: and then judge whether they deserve the character of eloquent orations. They are generally nothing more than dry treatises on scholastic points, or on matters of theological morality, full of quotations of sacred and profane authors, where we see coupled together St. Augustine and Virgil, Chrysostom and Juvenal. The force of their eloquence consists in some exclamations, to which is sometimes joined a description of the vices of the times, which would now excite the most immoderate laughter, but which then caused the audience to melt into tears.”[163]

The friars whom Poggio satirizes with such severity in his dialogue on Avarice, were a branch of the order of Franciscans, who, on account of the extraordinary strictness with which they professed to exercise their conventual discipline, were distinguished by the title of Fratres Observantiæ. The founder of this new subdivision of the ecclesiastical order was the above-mentioned Bernardino, of Siena, who appears by the testimony of Poggio to have been a man of great virtue and of considerable talents. Several of his disciples, however, who were not endued either with his good principles or his abilities, emulous of the reputation which he had acquired by preaching, began also to harangue the people from the pulpit.

Of these self-constituted instructors Poggio has drawn the following striking picture. “Inflated by the pretended inspiration of the Holy Spirit, they expound the sacred scriptures to the populace with such gross ignorance, that nothing can exceed their folly. I have often gone to hear them for the sake of amusement; for they were in the habit of saying things, which would move to laughter the gravest and most phlegmatic man on the face of the earth. You might see them throwing themselves about as if they were ready to leap out of the pulpit; now raising their voices to the highest pitch of fury—now sinking into a conciliatory whisper—sometimes they beat the desk with their hands—sometimes they laughed, and in the course of their babbling they assumed as many forms as Proteus. Indeed they are more like monkeys than preachers, and have no qualification for their profession, except an unwearied pair of lungs.”[164]

Though the impudence of these men, which was equal to their folly, disgusted people of good sense, they had numerous partizans and admirers among the populace. Elated by their success, they arrogated to themselves considerable consequence. Some of them, in the pride of their hearts, scorned to hold inferior stations in the convents in which they were established, and solicited the erection of new monasteries, of which their ambition prompted them to expect to become the superiors. Scandalized by these irregularities, the assertors of discipline summoned an assembly of the brothers of the Franciscan order from every province of Italy, for the purpose of remedying these evils, which were likely to bring disgrace upon their fraternity. This assembly, which consisted of eighty members, decreed, that a general chapter of their order should be held on the ensuing feast of Pentecost—that in the interim, six only of the friars should be allowed to preach—and that no new convent should be erected for the accommodation of the Franciscans, till the pleasure of the above-mentioned general chapter should be known. The task of drawing up these decrees was assigned to Poggio—a task which it may be presumed he undertook with pleasure, and executed with fidelity. The mortified preachers and their partizans, imagining that Poggio was not only the registrer, but the author of these unwelcome restrictions, inveighed against his conduct with great bitterness. Soon after the publication of the above-mentioned decree, Carlo Ricascolo, a devout citizen of Florence, presented to the Fratres Observantiæ a small estate pleasantly situated in the neighbourhood of Arezzo. On this estate the friars immediately began, in defiance of the prohibition so lately issued by the heads of their order, to lay the foundation of a new monastery. Poggio thought it his duty to represent this act of contumacy to the pontiff, who immediately issued orders to the bishop of Fiesole to put a stop to the prosecution of the building. This circumstance still farther excited against Poggio the animosity of the indignant ecclesiastics, who industriously vilified his character, representing him as an enemy of the Christian faith, and a malignant persecutor of the true believers. Niccolo Niccoli, with his usual impetuosity, gave credit to these accusations, and wrote to Poggio a letter of remonstrance. To this letter Poggio replied, first simply stating the facts of the case, and then protesting that he was no enemy either to religion or its professors—“on the contrary,” says he, “I make a point of behaving with the utmost reverence to those ecclesiastics who adorn their religion with virtuous conduct. But,” proceeded he, “I have been so often deceived, so frequently disappointed in the good opinion which I had conceived of men, that I know not whom or what to believe. There are so many wicked people, who conceal their vices by the sanctity of their looks, and the humility of their apparel, that confidence is in a manner destroyed. In the pontifical court we have too many opportunities of becoming acquainted with iniquitous transactions, of which people in general are ignorant. I am not however surprised,” says he in the conclusion of his letter, “that these friars should complain of their being prevented from establishing themselves in such a pleasant district. The excellence of our wine is a powerful allurement, both to strangers and to our own countrymen. Plato, who was no Christian, chose for the scite of his academy an unhealthy spot, in order that the mind might gain strength by the infirmity of the body. But these pretended followers of Christ act upon a different system. They select pleasant and voluptuous places—they seek not solitude, but society—they do not wish to promote the cultivation of the mind, but the pampering of the corporeal appetites.”

These sarcasms were communicated by Niccolo to Alberto da Sarteano,[165] a brother of the Franciscan order, who was so much displeased by them, that he expostulated with Poggio on the alleged impropriety of his conduct, in a long letter, to which the latter replied in a grave strain of irony, defending and confirming the remarks which had been so copious a subject of animadversion. Towards the conclusion of his letter, he bestowed upon his correspondent the following seasonable advice. “Do you apply yourself to your preaching, and attend to your peculiar province. Leave the building of religious houses to others, and be assured, that wheresoever you are, there you may acceptably serve and worship God.”

This letter to Alberto, Poggio enclosed in another, which he addressed to Ambrogio Traversari. To the learned monk of Camaldoli he could venture to write, even upon this delicate subject, with all the freedom of jocularity. “I cannot help thinking,” says he, “that the benevolence of many persons is too great, who prefer the public good to their private interest; and who, through their anxiety for the salvation of others, lose their own souls. I could wish that these men would retire to woods and deserts, where they might attain to the perfection of holy living, rather than settle in such pleasant places, in which they run such risk of falling into temptation. Your favourite St. Jerome says, that it is better and safer to be in a situation where it is impossible to err, than even to escape from imminent danger. I am afraid some people have too much confidence in their own fortitude. But I have done.—Let every one bear his own burden.—Farewell, and pray that your friend Poggio may amend his ways.”[166]

The lenient influence of time did not abate the dislike and contempt which Poggio entertained for those ecclesiastics who adopted the religious habit as a convenient cloak for the concealment of indolence or luxury; and who, by the mere appearance of extraordinary sanctity, endeavoured to attain those worldly honours which they affected to despise. When he was declined into the vale of years, he attacked those pests of society in a dialogue on Hypocrisy, a composition which abounds in the keen sarcasms of polished wit, and in acute observations on the human character. It is no doubt on account of the boldness with which he inveighs against the evil practices of pretenders to uncommon strictness in the observance of religious duties, that the editors of his works have suppressed this dialogue, which has been preserved and circulated by the industrious zeal of protestantism.[167] The freedom with which he therein speaks of the vices, not merely of individuals, but of whole classes of religious hypocrites, is truly astonishing. The following remonstrance against the folly and wickedness of the monastic life savours more of the eighteenth, than of the fifteenth century, and is drawn up in the spirit of a Gallic œconomiste, rather than in the style of a secretary to the sovereign pontiff. “I do not wish to scrutinize into the secret life of these cœnobites, which is known only to God. I will not inquire whether they are sober or otherwise; whether they are chaste or unchaste; whether they employ their time in study, or waste it in idleness; whether they are the prey of envy; and whether they are continually hunting after preferment. It is not sufficient that they keep within doors, oppressed with a load of garments, and do no public and open mischief. Let me ask, of what utility are they to the faith, and what advantage do they confer on the public? I cannot find that they do any thing but sing like grasshoppers, and I cannot help thinking they are too liberally paid for the mere exercise of their lungs. But they extol their labours as a kind of Herculean task, because they rise in the night to chant the praises of God. This is no doubt an extraordinary proof of merit, that they sit up to exercise themselves in psalmody. What would they say if they rose to go to the plough, like farmers, exposed to the wind and rain, with bare feet, and with their bodies thinly clad? In such a case no doubt the Deity could not possibly requite them for their toil and sufferings. But it may be said, there are many worthy men amongst them. I acknowledge it. It would be a lamentable thing indeed, should there be no good men in so vast a multitude. But the majority of them are idle, hypocritical, and destitute of virtue. How many do you think enter upon the religious life through a desire to amend their morals? You can recount very few who do not assume the habit on account of some extraneous cause. They dedicate, not their minds, but their bodies to devotional exercises. Many adopt the monastic garb on account of the imbecility of their spirits, which prevents them from exerting themselves to gain an honest livelihood. Some, when they have spent their property in extravagance, enter into religious houses, because they think that they shall there find a rich pasture; others are induced to hide in these abodes the infamy which they have contracted by their ignorance, and by their dissolute and abandoned course of life.”

In the same dialogue Poggio recounts several instances of artful priests abusing the confidence of auricular confession, for the indulgence of their licentious appetites. He also mentions, with due reprobation, a set of fanatical profligates, who propagating and acting upon the doctrine, that those who were in a state of grace were made perfect, and could not possibly commit sin, had lately debauched a considerable number of women in the city of Venice.

In modern times, enthusiasts have the audacity, whilst they make a public acknowledgment of gross violations of the duties of morality, to proclaim their confidence, that their sins are forgiven, and to declare their firm persuasion, that whatever may be the complexion of their future conduct, they cannot forfeit the favour of the Almighty. Though it would be unjust to charge these men with an imitation of the actions of the sanctimonious Venetians, whose vile deeds are recorded by Poggio, certain it is, that their principles, if carried into practice, would grant a license even to these flagrant acts of wickedness. Thus, in the wide circle of immorality, there is a point, where the extreme of enthusiasm and the extreme of libertinism meet together. When reason is shaken from her throne, the passions make even Religion herself the promoter and the instrument of vice.

CHAP. V.

Eugenius IV. raised to the pontificate—His persecution of the Colonnas—He offends the duke of Milan—Ill success of the pontifical army in Germany—Poggio foresees the disasters of the papal troops—His consolatory letter to cardinal Julian—Julian’s answer—Poggio’s reply—Angelotto, cardinal of St. Mark—Meeting and proceedings of the council of Basil—Poggio attempts to persuade Julian to desert the council—Violent proceedings of that assembly against the pontiff—The ecclesiastical states invaded by Francesco Sforza and Niccolo Fortebraccio—Poggio again attempts to gain Julian over to the interests of the pontiff—Eugenius accedes to the wishes of the council—Insurrection in Rome—Flight of Eugenius—Poggio taken captive, and obliged to ransom himself by a sum of money—He repairs to Florence.

CHAP. V.

On the death of Martin V., Gabriello de’ Condolmieri, a Venetian, of an ancient, though not of a noble family, was elevated to the pontifical dignity. During his residence in his native country, Gabriello had not obtained any high ecclesiastical honours: but being persuaded to repair to Rome under the protection of a nephew of his countryman Gregory XII., he so skilfully insinuated himself into the good graces of that pontiff, that by his favour he was promoted to the lucrative office of treasurer of the holy see; and successively advanced to the episcopal throne of Siena, and to the dignity of Cardinal of St. Clement. Having conducted himself with singular spirit and steadiness in the execution of various important commissions with which he was entrusted by Gregory XII. and his successors, he daily increased his reputation; and on the vacancy of the pontifical chair, occasioned by the demise of Martin V., he was raised, by the vote of the conclave, to the summit of ecclesiastical preferment. [March 3rd. A. D. 1431.] On this occasion, in compliance with the established custom, he changed his name, and assumed the appellation of Eugenius IV.[168]

During the course of the fifteenth century, the peace of most of the cities of Italy was continually disturbed by the intrigues of rival families, who disputed with each other the distribution of municipal honours, and the possession of civic power. On the accession of Eugenius, the contentions of the Colonnas and the Orsini, who had long presided at the head of opposite factions, still gave rise to disorder and tumult in Rome. The new pontiff had no sooner ascended the chair of St. Peter, than the chiefs of the latter family directed his attention to the great wealth which their competitors had amassed, in consequence of the partiality which his predecessor had shewn towards his kinsmen, in the distribution of the honours and emoluments which were at the disposal of the head of the church. On an inquiry being made into the conduct of the Colonnas, it was found that, not contented with the sum which they had gained from the munificence of their uncle, they had taken possession of the public treasure, which he had appropriated to the liquidation of the expenses of an expedition against the Turks, and had also conveyed away several jewels, and much furniture belonging to the pontifical palace. Being therefore determined to take legal proceedings against the principal offenders, Eugenius ordered Stefano Colonna, the general of the church, to arrest Oddo Piccio, Vice-chamberlain of his predecessor, but to treat him with civility. These orders were ill obeyed. The guards sent on this duty sacked the house of Oddo, and ignominiously dragged him through the streets as a common criminal. The pontiff having threatened to call Stefano to account for this harsh conduct, the latter fled from Rome, and joined the rest of his family in a rebellion against Eugenius. Provoked by this contumacy, the pontiff proceeded with such unsparing severity against those who had been elevated to places of honour and profit, by the favour of his predecessor, that more than two hundred persons employed by Martin V. in various offices, were, upon being convicted of various offences, put to death by the hand of the executioner. The sagacity of Poggio, who was a witness of these cruel transactions, clearly foresaw the evil consequences which were likely to result from them.[169] The distractions of civil tumult soon demonstrated the justice of his apprehensions. The Colonnas, flying from Rome, solicited the assistance of their powerful relatives and friends, who resided in various parts of Italy. Having collected a sufficient body of troops, they marched to Rome; and being admitted into the city through the Appian gate by some of their partizans, they directed their course to the Piazza Colonna, where they were met by the soldiers of the pope. After a fierce encounter, the assailants were compelled to retire. Being thus frustrated in their attempt to make themselves masters of the city by open force, they endeavoured to accomplish their purpose by treachery. The vigilance of Eugenius however rendered their designs abortive. Having received intelligence that the archbishop of Benevento, the son of Antonio Colonna, and Masio his brother, were meditating some desperate enterprise, he caused them to be apprehended. Masio being put to the torture, confessed that they had laid a plan to seize the castle of St. Angelo, and to banish the pope and the Orsini from Rome. This treasonable project the unfortunate youth expiated by his death. He was beheaded in the Campo di Fiore, and his quarters were suspended to public view in four of the most frequented streets of the city. Soon after this event, the heart of Eugenius being mollified by a dangerous sickness, he became weary of the violence and hazard of civil strife; and by the medium of Angelotto Fosco, a citizen of Rome, he intimated to the Colonnas, that he was disposed to agree to a pacification. The terms of this pacification being settled, and solemnly proclaimed on the twenty-second of September, [A. D. 1471.] Rome once more enjoyed the blessing of domestic tranquillity.[170]

Thus did the merciless harshness of Eugenius, on his accession to the chair of St. Peter, expose his capital to the miseries of civil discord. At the same time he rashly ran the hazard of involving himself in a war with Filippo Maria, the duke of Milan. After the conclusion of the peace of Ferrara, that crafty prince, with a view of inducing his most formidable antagonists to exhaust their strength, had encouraged the Florentines to attack the territories of the republic of Lucca, which had incurred the hatred of the Tuscans by the strenuous assistance which it had afforded to the duke in the late war. But while he professed to desert his former allies, Filippo secretly ordered the Genoese, over whom he exercised an almost absolute authority, to march to the relief of the city of Lucca, which the Florentines had reduced to extremity. In obedience to his injunctions, the Genoese sent into the Lucchese territories a considerable body of troops under the command of Piccinino, who compelled the Tuscan general to raise the siege of the capital, and entirely routed his army. When the Florentines were apprized of the secret machinations of the duke of Milan, they renewed their alliance with the Venetians: and on the other hand, the duke openly declaring himself in favour of the republic of Lucca, strengthened himself by the assistance of the Sienese. Such was the state of affairs in the western districts of Italy, when Eugenius was called to ascend the pontifical throne. This event was a subject of great joy to the Florentines, who hoped that the partiality of the new pontiff to his countrymen, their allies, would induce him to take decisive measures in their favour. Nor were they disappointed. Soon after his accession, Eugenius sent a legate to Siena, with instructions to endeavour to prevail upon the administrators of that republic to desert from the cause of the duke of Milan. At the same time he sent to the Tuscan army a reinforcement of one thousand horse, which seasonable accession of strength enabled the Florentines once more to commence the siege of Lucca.[171]

The duke of Milan did not deem it expedient instantly to resent the proceedings of the pontiff: but the edge of his anger was not blunted by time, and when a convenient opportunity presented itself, he convinced Eugenius to his cost, that it is the height of folly gratuitously to interfere in the disputes of belligerent states.

The pontificate of Eugenius did not commence with happier omens in the distant provinces of Christendom. He had confirmed the commission of his predecessor, which authorised Julian, cardinal of St. Angelo, to exercise in Germany the office of legate of the holy see; and in pursuance of this commission, the cardinal had laboured with unremitting activity for the extinction of heresy. The Bohemian reformers, however, ridiculed his pastoral admonitions, and despised his menaces. During his residence in Constance, Poggio had witnessed in the case of two individuals, the intrepidity with which the human mind is inspired by the operation of religious zeal; and he seems to have wisely calculated the efforts which this powerful stimulus was likely to produce, by diffusing its increasing energy through the breasts of an enthusiastic multitude. On this account, when he was informed of the important enterprise which had been undertaken by his friend the cardinal, though he applauded the alacrity which he manifested in the discharge of his duty to his spiritual sovereign, he advised him maturely to consider, not the degree of courage with which he was endowed, but the number of troops which he could bring into the field; and bade him beware, lest in attempting to subdue the heretics, he should take a wolf by the ears.[172] The event justified the fears of Poggio. A vigorous invasion of Bohemia was meditated by Frederic, marquis of Brandenburg, who had been appointed to the chief command of the ecclesiastical forces;[173] but as the success of his plan in a great measure depended on the co-operation of several independent powers, it experienced the usual fate of enterprizes conducted on that most hazardous principle. It had been concerted, that whilst the marquis of Brandenburg made an irruption into the Bohemian territory by the route of Thopa, Albert duke of Austria should make a diversion on the side of Moravia. But as some of the confederates had not prepared their forces in due time, the commander in chief was obliged to defer the opening of the campaign beyond the appointed period. In the mean time Albert advanced into Bohemia; but finding himself unsupported by his allies, he thought it prudent to retire. The duke of Austria had no sooner withdrawn his forces, than the cardinal, who had at length raised an army, consisting of forty thousand cavalry, and nearly an equal number of infantry,[174] appeared on the frontiers of Bohemia, where he took and destroyed several towns which had been garrisoned by the reformers. The Bohemians were not, however, discouraged by the number of their foes, but boldly advanced with a determination to give them battle. The papal forces did not await the encounter of these formidable antagonists. When they were apprized of the approach of the enemy, they were seized with a sudden panic, and in spite of the remonstrances of their general, they fled in the utmost disorder.[175] Mortified by this defeat, and despairing of being able to subdue the heretics by means of the forces at present under his command, the legate determined to apply for assistance in the task of the extirpation of the impugners of the true faith to the general council, which, in pursuance of the summons of the late pontiff Martin V., was soon to be held in the city of Basil.[176]

When Poggio received the intelligence of the discomfiture of the papal army, he thus addressed the Cardinal legate, in a consolatory epistle.—“I am truly sorry, my good father, for the ridiculous and disgraceful issue of this German expedition, which you have planned and prepared with so much pains and labour. It is astonishing that your troops should have been so completely destitute of courage, as to fly like hares, terrified by an empty breeze of wind, even before the enemy was in sight. My grief is however alleviated by the following consideration, that I not only foresaw this event, but foretold it when I last had the pleasure of conversing with you. On that occasion I remember you treated my opinion lightly, and said, that as prophets of evil were generally justified by the common course of human things, I prophesied on the safe side when I foreboded disasters. I did not however hazard a random guess at the issue of the proposed expedition; but formed a rational conjecture on the subject, by comparing past with present circumstances, and by reflecting upon the necessary relation of cause and effect. Impressed by these ideas, I thought I clearly foresaw an approaching tempest: and the occurrences of every succeeding day tend to confirm me in my opinion. There formerly existed Christian kings and princes, by whose assistance the church defended herself against her enemies; and tempest-tossed as she has frequently been, she has hitherto always found some haven in which she could shelter herself from the fury of the storm. But whither can she now flee without incurring the danger of suffering shipwreck? A common insanity has persuaded almost all men to rejoice in our calamities, and to pray for our destruction. Let us however hope for the best, and patiently bear the worst. For my own part I make it my study, in all circumstances to be resigned to the will of Providence, and to become so independent of externals, as not to be distressed by the capriciousness of fortune. In my present situation, indeed, I am not very obnoxious to the malice of that goddess, whose wrath, like the thunderbolt, is directed against the high and the lofty. But whatever may be her pleasure, it is certainly the truest wisdom not to suffer our minds to be shaken by her impulse, and not to be too deeply affected in our private capacity by the distresses of the public. Let us however entreat the Deity not to put our wisdom to these serious proofs; for we know not whether we should be able to practise the piety and philosophy which we recommend. I hear that you have convoked a council, which is already well attended. I commend your prudence—you did well, on the ill success of your arms, to have recourse to an assembly of priests, on whom we cannot but have great reliance, on account of the uprightness of their lives, and their zeal to extinguish the pest of heresy.

“The Germans were formerly a warlike people.—They are now strenuous only in their eating and drinking, and they are mighty in proportion to the wine which they can swallow. When their casks are empty, their courage must needs be exhausted. On this account I am inclined to think, that they so shamefully deserted their posts, not through fear of the enemy, whom it seems they never saw, but because provisions were scarce in those quarters. You were of opinion, that sobriety constituted a part of the soldier’s duty. But if this expedition is to be again attempted, I trust you will change your system, and allow that wine constitutes the sinews of war. The ancients inform us, that Ennius never undertook to celebrate warlike achievements till he was mellow; and it must be acknowledged that, inasmuch as it is a more serious task to fight a battle than to describe it, flowing cups are absolutely requisite to enable a man to handle arms, and encounter the dangers of the field. I am afraid you have fallen into the error of judging of others by your own dispositions. Beware of repeating this error in the matter of the council, and remember what I said to you before your departure from Italy—take care to feed them well—But enough of this levity. We enjoy the blessing of peace; but the pontifical court is poor, and shorn of its splendour. This is occasioned by the war in Germany, and by the sickness of his holiness, which has lasted much longer, and has been much more severe, than could have been wished. I have written to Angelotto, cardinal of St. Mark, a letter which I wish you also to read. I therefore send you a copy of it, not because I flatter myself that there is any excellence in its style, but because I trust its perusal may divert your thoughts from the anxious affair of the council.”[177]

A mind irritated by disappointment and disgrace is but ill prepared to bear with patience the lashes of satiric wit. The cardinal of St. Angelo was by no means pleased with the jocular style of Poggio’s letter; and though he affected to answer it in a similar strain of levity, he appears to have written with the ill grace which generally betrays the attempt to conceal resentment under the veil of good humour; and in the course of his epistle, his vexation burst forth in an angry reproof of the irregular life of his correspondent. Unfortunately the morals of Poggio were not entirely free from reproach.—Whilst the uncertainty of his future destination had prevented him from entering into the married state, his passions had gained the mastery over his principles, and he had become the father of a spurious offspring. Reminding him of this circumstance, “you have children,” said the cardinal, “which is inconsistent with the obligations of an ecclesiastic; and by a mistress, which is discreditable to the character of a layman.” To these reproaches Poggio replied in a letter replete with the keenest sarcasm. He pleaded guilty to the charge which had been exhibited against him, and candidly confessed, that he had deviated from the paths of virtue. “I might answer to your accusation,” said he, “that I have children, which is expedient for the laity; and by a mistress, in conformity to the custom of the clergy from the foundation of the world. But I will not defend my errors—you know that I have violated the laws of morality, and I acknowledge that I have done amiss.” Endeavouring however to palliate his offence—“do we not,” says he, “every day, and in all countries, meet with priests, monks, abbots, bishops, and dignitaries of a still higher order, who have families of children by married women, widows, and even by virgins consecrated to the service of God? These despisers of worldly things, as they style themselves, who travel from place to place, clothed in coarse and vile raiment, with downcast looks, calling on the name of Jesus, follow the precept of the apostle, and seek after that which is not their own, to use it as their own, and scorn to hide their talent in a napkin. I have often laughed at the bold, or rather impudent profession of a certain Italian abbot, who waited on Martin V., accompanied by his son, who was grown up to man’s estate. This audacious ecclesiastic, being interrogated on the subject, freely and openly declared, to the great amusement of the pope, and the whole pontifical court, that he had four other sons able to bear arms, who were all at his holiness’s service.” After noticing other scandalous enormities, which brought disgrace upon the character of some ecclesiastics of those times, Poggio thus concluded—“As to your advice on the subject of my future plans of life, I am determined not to assume the sacerdotal office; for I have seen many men whom I have regarded as persons of good character and liberal dispositions, degenerate into avarice, sloth, and dissipation, in consequence of their introduction into the priesthood.—Fearing lest this should be the case with myself, I have resolved to spend the remaining term of my pilgrimage as a layman; for I have too frequently observed, that your brethren, at the time of their tonsure, not only part with their hair, but also with their conscience and their virtue.”[178]

Angelotto, cardinal of St. Mark, whom Poggio mentions at the conclusion of his consolatory epistle to the cardinal of St. Angelo, was by birth a Roman, and was promoted by Eugenius, from the bishopric of Cavi, to a seat in the sacred college, on the nineteenth of September, 1431.[179] On this addition to his honours, Poggio addressed to him a letter, in which he exercised the privilege of friendship, in administering to him much wholesome and seasonable advice. He introduced his admonitions by observing, that it was customary for the friends of those who had been exalted to any new dignity, to express their congratulations by the transmission of magnificent presents; but that being prevented by his poverty from giving such indications of the satisfaction with which he had received the intelligence of Angelotto’s promotion, he was determined to bestow upon him a gift, which he was assured he would value at its just rate—the gift of friendly council. By a variety of instances, recorded in the pages of history, he shewed, that he who in compliance with the dictates of duty gives good advice to the great and powerful, runs considerable risk of drawing down upon himself the indignation of those whose welfare he wishes to promote by the free communication of his opinions. In candidly imparting his sentiments to Angelotto, however, a man of considerable learning, who had himself been accustomed to indulge in the most unlimited freedom of speech, he declared that he did not apprehend that he incurred the least danger of giving offence. He then proceeded to exhort the newly created cardinal to continue to cultivate, in his present high station, those virtues which he had exhibited in the inferior degrees of ecclesiastical preferment; and to act up to the professions which he had been accustomed to make before the period of his exaltation. He reminded him of the dangerous temptations which surround eminence of rank, and assured him, that so far from withdrawing any restraints to which he had formerly been obliged to submit, his present promotion imposed upon him additional obligations to be prudent and circumspect in his conduct; since the splendour of eminence makes the failings and vices of the great the more conspicuous. Warning his correspondent against the debasing influence of flattery, he thus apologized for the boldness with which he offered his advice. “Those who are not acquainted with me, will perhaps condemn the freedom with which I inculcate these heads of admonition on one who is more fully instructed than myself on such topics. But I am induced by my affection for you to recall to your memory these points of duty, in the discharge of which, even the well informed have been sometimes known to fail.”

If credit may be given to the opinion of Angelotto’s contemporaries, Poggio’s attempt to inculcate upon him the lessons of wisdom, was by no means a superfluous task. In such small estimation was his understanding held, that on the day of his election to the dignity of cardinal, a Roman priest of the name of Lorenzo went through the streets of the city, shewing indications of the most extravagant joy; and being asked by his neighbours what was the cause of his exultation, he replied, “I am truly fortunate—Angelotto is created cardinal; and since I find fools and madmen are promoted to that dignity, I have great hopes of wearing the red hat myself.”[180] On the same occasion, as the officers of the pontifical household were conversing about the transactions of the day, one Niccolo of Anagni, a man of great literary accomplishments, but of an irregular life, and of a very satirical disposition, complained of his own ill fortune.—“No person living,” said he, “is more unlucky than myself; for though this is the reign of folly, and every madman, nay even Angelotto, gains considerable promotion, I alone am passed over without notice.”[181] The friendship which Poggio professed to entertain for the newly created dignitary did not prevent him from indulging at his expense, his propensity to sarcastic wit. A new cardinal is not permitted to take any part in the debates of the consistory till he has obtained the pontiff’s permission to speak, which is granted by the performance of a short ceremony, entitled the opening of his mouth. Poggio one day meeting the cardinal of St. Marcellus in the pontifical palace, asked him what had been done that morning in the sacred college. “We have opened Angelotto’s mouth,” said the cardinal. “Indeed,” replied Poggio, “you would have acted more wisely if you had fixed a padlock upon it.”[182] These anecdotes, which are selected from Poggio’s Facetiæ, sufficiently prove, that the unfortunate cardinal of St. Mark was a fruitful subject of ridicule to the officers of the Roman court. From the same source of information it appears, that his churlish moroseness on the following occasion subjected him to the shame of being put to confusion by the petulant wit of a child. Some of his friends having introduced to him a boy of ten years of age, who was remarkable for the brilliancy of his talents, he asked him a variety of questions, in his answers to which the boy displayed astonishing knowledge and sagacity. On which Angelotto, turning to the by-standers, said, “They who manifest such quickness of parts at this early age, generally decrease in intellect as they increase in years, and become fools when they have attained to maturity.” Hurt by the unfeeling rudeness of this remark, the stripling immediately replied, “If this be the case, most reverend father, you must have been a very forward youth.”[183]

In congratulating a man of Angelotto’s character on his accession to high ecclesiastical honours, Poggio may be suspected of practising the duplicity of a courtier. But it may be alleged in his defence, that his letter breathes the spirit of freedom; and that though he takes occasion in general terms to commend the talents and virtues of the new cardinal, his commendations are so sparingly interspersed in the midst of a variety of salutary hints of advice, that they are evidently introduced for no other purpose than to render his admonitions more palatable, and consequently more useful. We have too much reason to believe that these admonitions were like good seed sown in an unproductive soil; and that the conduct of Angelotto, subsequent to his elevation to a seat in the consistory, reflected disgrace on himself, and on the authors of his promotion.[184]

In summoning the general council, cardinal Julian had acted in conformity to the powers which had been conferred on him by the late, and confirmed by the present pontiff;[185] but Eugenius, though he did not think it advisable openly to oppose this measure, looked forward to the convening of this assembly with no small degree of apprehension. The popes had always regarded general councils with the jealousy which monarchs of arbitrary principles uniformly entertain of those constitutional bodies, which, under various denominations, have occasionally attempted to curb the pride of despotic authority. In the deposition of John XXII. the council of Constance had established a most dangerous precedent; and when Eugenius reflected upon the power and activity of his enemies, he dreaded the consequences which might result from the assembling of a deliberative body, which claimed a superiority over the head of the church. The cardinal of St. Angelo, however, either was not acquainted with the views of the pontiff, or thought it his duty not to sacrifice the interests of the Christian community to the timidity or ambition of its spiritual sovereign. In compliance with his injunctions, John de Polmar, auditor of the sacred palace, and John de Ragusio, doctor in theology of the university of Paris, repaired to Basil on the nineteenth of July, 1431, and opened the council in the chapter house of the cathedral church.[186] On the fourteenth of December the first session was held, at which the cardinal of St. Angelo presided in person, and delivered to the assembled ecclesiastics an exhortation to labour diligently, and to watch with vigilance for the welfare of the Christian religion. Then were read the decree of the council of Constance, touching the summoning of general councils; the instrument by which the city of Basil was appointed as a proper place for the holding of such an assembly, and various other documents, which establish the legitimacy of the present synod. It was then publicly declared, that the attention of the council would be directed to three points—the extirpation of heresy—the prevention of wars amongst Christians—and the reformation of the church.[187]

After the publication of a bull, which thundered an anathema against all those who should impede any one in his passage to or from the city of Basil, on the business of the council, and the recital and adoption of several rules for the regulation of the proceedings of that assembly, the first session was closed.[188]

When Eugenius found that he could not prevent the convocation of the dreaded synod, he began to deliberate upon the best method of preventing those encroachments upon the pontifical prerogatives, which he had so much reason to apprehend from its decrees. Upon mature consideration, he did not think it prudent to risk so bold a step as the dissolution of the council: but he flattered himself, that by removing it to some city under his own dominion, he would be enabled to control its proceedings, and to avert the threatened danger. He therefore issued a bull, whereby he commanded the cardinal of St. Angelo to transfer the council from Basil to Bologna.[189] On the receipt of this bull, the cardinal wrote to Eugenius a long and elaborate letter, in which he endeavoured to persuade him by every argument which was likely to influence his judgment, and by every appeal to the principles of virtue which was calculated to make an impression on his heart, to withdraw his opposition to the proceedings of the council, and to assist with zeal in its efforts to promote the welfare of the Christian community.[190] The members of that assembly, also, sent deputies to his holiness, with instructions to implore and require him to retract the aforesaid bull, and by his assistance and advice to support the council in the good work which it had begun. The assembled fathers did not, however, entirely rely upon the persuasive eloquence of their embassadors. Confiding in the protection of the emperor Sigismund, in the second session, which was held on the fifteenth of April, 1432, they took very decisive measures for the establishment of their authority. With this view they recited and confirmed a decree of the council of Constance, wherein it was asserted, that every Synod, lawfully assembled in the Holy Spirit, constituting a general council, and representing the church militant, derives its authority immediately from Christ, to which authority all persons, of what state or dignity soever, not excepting the pope, are bound to pay obedience in matters pertaining to the faith, the extirpation of schism, and the general reformation of the church in its head and members. They also issued a declaration, that the council then assembled could not legally be dissolved, prorogued, or transferred to any other place, by any power, no not even by the pontifical authority, without the consent of its members.

The deputies who had been sent to Eugenius returning without having effected the object of their mission, the council, by a public decree, dated April the twenty-ninth, 1432, supplicated, required, and admonished the pontiff to revoke the bull of dissolution with the same formality with which it had been published. By the same decree, Eugenius was summoned to appear in the council in the space of three months, either in person or by deputies furnished with full powers to act in his name. He was also duly forewarned, that should he refuse to comply with these requisitions, the council would, according to the dictates of justice, and the Holy Spirit, provide for the necessities of the church, and proceed according to the precepts of divine and human laws.[191] After these acts of open hostility, prudence dictated to the members of the council the necessity of abridging the influence and authority of their adversary as much as possible; and for this purpose, in their fourth session, which was held on the twentieth of June, [A. D. 1432.] they decreed, that in case of a vacancy of the holy see, the successor to Eugenius should be elected in the place where the council should happen to be sitting; and that during the existence of that assembly, the pope should be prohibited from creating new cardinals.

The council proceeded to still more daring extremities. On Sunday, September 6th, after the solemnization of the mass, two procurators of that assembly presented a petition, which set forth, that whereas Eugenius, having been regularly summoned to revoke the bull which he had issued, ordaining the dissolution of the council, and also to appear in person in the said council, within the space of three months, had neglected to obey the said summons, and had on the contrary persisted in his endeavours to put a stop to the proceedings of the legal representatives of the Christian church, they demanded that the said Eugenius should be declared contumacious; and that further proceedings should be had according to law. This petition having been read, the bishop of Constance, who on that day presided in the assembly, commanded the bishops of Perigord and Ratisbon, to make inquisition whether the pope, or any one duly authorised on his behalf were present in the council. These prelates accordingly made the requisite proclamation thrice from the steps of the altar, and as many times at the gates of the church. No one appearing to answer to this summons, a representation of this fact was made to the president; after which the archbishops of Tarento and Colossi, and the bishop of Magdalon, and Antonio di Santo Vito, auditor of the sacred palace, entered the assembly in quality of deputies of the pope. On inquiry, however, it was found, that they were not provided with the plenary powers demanded by the decrees of the council, in consequence of which a protestation was made against their acts. Being, however, permitted to speak, they exhorted the assembled dignitaries, as they wished for the good of the church, to drop these harsh proceedings against the common father of the faithful. After some deliberation, the president replied in the name of the council, that the members of that august body would deliberate upon the matters which had on that day been proposed to their consideration; and that they would endeavour to act in such a manner as to obtain the concurrence of the whole Christian world. After thanking the president for this gracious answer, the deputies of Eugenius withdrew.[192] On the eighteenth of December the council was pleased to enlarge the term prescribed for the submission of Eugenius for the space of sixty days; and at the same time prohibited all ecclesiastics or others from attempting to establish at Bologna, or elsewhere, any synod in opposition to the council then sitting at Basil.[193] At the expiration of the above-mentioned term of sixty days, the procurators of the council, on the nineteenth of February, 1433, again demanded sentence against the contumacious pontiff, and were again informed by the president, that this important affair would be the subject of the future deliberations of the assembly.[194] The result of these deliberations was, that the council, out of its great clemency, indulged Eugenius with the still further space of sixty days, at the same time declaring, that should he not within that time fully and unreservedly acknowledge and submit to its authority, he should stand convicted of notorious contumacy, and should be suspended from the administration of all pontifical functions, both in spirituals and in temporals.[195]

It may easily be imagined, that these violent proceedings of the council excited no small degree of uneasiness in the mind of Eugenius. The pride of the pontiff was wounded by the decree, which pronounced the subordination of the papal dignity to the mandate of a collective body, the individual members of which were accustomed to prostrate themselves before the chair of St. Peter, with the homage of unreserved submission. His resentment was roused by the denunciation of the punishment which awaited his refusal to concur in his own humiliation; and when he considered the popularity which the council had acquired, in consequence of the general persuasion of the Christian world, that its deliberations would tend to the benefit of the church, his breast was agitated by a sense of the danger which he incurred in counteracting its operations. Poggio entered with dutiful zeal into the feelings of his patron, and resolved to attempt, by friendly admonition and remonstrance, to persuade the cardinal of St. Angelo to withdraw his countenance and support from the rebellious ecclesiastics of Basil. With this view he addressed to him an elaborate letter, in which he entreated him to consider, that though in summoning the council he was actuated by the most upright intentions, and by a sincere desire to promote the good of the church, yet he was in duty bound to believe, that the pope was influenced by the same motives in the formation of his opinion, that such an assembly was inexpedient and dangerous. He reminded him, that he was by no means authorized to set up his private sentiments in opposition to the decision of the head of the church. He further observed, that they who began the reformation so loudly demanded, by manifesting their contempt of the pontifical dignity, were the most dangerous partizans and promoters of heresy. He then proceeded solemnly to forewarn his friend, that if he persisted in his determination, he would forfeit his peace of mind for ever; for he would have the mortification of seeing the plans which he had meditated for the benefit of the church converted into the means of her destruction. After assuring him that the council was likely to become subservient to the ambition of one sovereign prince, and to the hatred which another had conceived against Eugenius, who was already doomed to deposition—he thus proceeded—“You will perhaps say, I know nothing of the intentions of others; but as to myself, I am conscious that I am prompted by zeal for the promotion of the general good; and whatever may be the consequences of the measures which I adopt, the rectitude of my intentions will secure me from blame. But take care, my good friend, lest you be led astray. I know that your intentions are excellent: but I also know that you cannot answer for the integrity of your associates. Affairs may issue in a manner directly contrary to your expectations. It is a most difficult task to curb resentment, hatred, and avarice; and it is very certain that men are corrupted by being freed from salutary restraints. When you take into consideration the different views by which mankind are actuated, the hopes of the public benefit which you expect to derive from this council should not render you insensible of the danger with which it is attended. You ought therefore to dread incurring a weight of responsibility by obstinately persevering in your own opinion. In explaining to the pontiff the reasons which convince you of the expediency of summoning a council, you have acted as becomes a virtuous and prudent man. His holiness is, however, of opinion, that the present is not a proper time for the holding of such an assembly.—Do you think it right to maintain your sentiments by arms and violence? Plato says that we ought not bear arms against our native country or our parents—And who is more truly our parent than the earthly representative of our Father in Heaven; and what country is more dear to us than the church in which we are saved? You and the pontiff are aiming at the same end, but by different means—Which of you ought to give way to the other? Consider, I entreat you, the dispositions and views of those who countenance this assembly, and you will be convinced that they entertain the most pernicious designs. If you do not recede, you will inflict upon the church a wound, which, however you may wish, you will be unable to heal.”[196]

The doctrine of passive obedience may be seriously maintained by those who bask in the sunshine of princely favour, and by those who are pleased or satisfied with the conduct of the powers that be; for men feel no disposition to resist measures which operate to their own advantage, or which they themselves approve. But when they are required to do that which is subversive of their interests, or repugnant to their feelings, they generally find reasons, to themselves at least satisfactory, for opposing the dictates even of long established authority. So it was with the cardinal of St. Angelo. Dazzled by the splendours which beamed around the presidential throne, he could not see the cogency of the reasons which urged him to forego his newly acquired honours; and the arguments of Poggio had no influence upon his conduct. On the contrary, he deemed it strictly compatible with his duty to the common father of the faithful still to preside in the rebellious synod, which on the eleventh day of September again met in solemn assembly. [A. D. 1433.] In this session, the procurators of the council, after representing, that notwithstanding the lenity which had been exercised towards Eugenius, in deferring the process which his obstinacy justly merited, the pontiff still refused to submit to the ordinances of the august representatives of the Christian church, demanded, that without any delay, he should be put upon his trial, as being impeached of contumacious opposition to the exercise of legitimate authority. To this demand the archbishop of Spoleto and the bishop of Cervi, in the name of Eugenius, made certain frivolous objections, which were immediately over-ruled. The pontifical deputies were then informed by the president, that if they were prepared to announce the determination of their master to comply with the requisitions of the assembly in whose presence they stood, this welcome intelligence would be received with the utmost joy—but that if they were not authorised so to do, they might rest assured, that the members of the council would prefer death to the adoption of any measures which were likely to endanger the church of Christ. The envoys of Eugenius not being authorised to make the required concessions, withdrew from the assembly, and it was expected that a legal process would have been instantly commenced against their refractory constituent.

In this crisis Eugenius was sheltered from the threatened storm by the friendship of the emperor Sigismund. Towards the latter end of the year 1431, that monarch had come into Italy with the intention of receiving the imperial crown from the hands of the pope.[197] Eugenius, however, taking umbrage at his intimate connexion with the duke of Milan, whom he regarded as a secret enemy to himself, and the avowed foe of his country, refused to permit him to visit Rome.[198] The emperor being thus frustrated in the attainment of the object of his journey across the Alps, quitted Milan, and after visiting Piacenza, Parma, and Lucca, at length went to Siena, where he fixed his abode for the space of several months. During his residence in this city he carried on a negociation with the pontiff, in the course of which he found means to calm the jealous apprehensions of Eugenius, who at length consented to admit the imperial petitioner into his capital. Sigismund accordingly made his triumphant entry into Rome, where he was received on the twenty-first of May, 1433, by the acclamations of the populace; and on the thirty-first of the same month he was crowned with all due solemnity in the church of the Vatican.[199] The festivity which occurred on this occasion was increased by the joy diffused throughout Italy, on account of the termination of the war between the duke of Milan and the Florentines, who had been induced, by the mediation of the marquis of Este, to sign a treaty of peace at Ferrara about three weeks before Sigismund’s arrival in Rome.[200] During the emperor’s residence in that city, he experienced from Eugenius the respectful hospitality which was due to his exalted rank and the excellence of his character.[201] In return for the kindness of the pontiff, he determined to promote his interests by moderating the violence of the council. He accordingly sent by his ambassadors a letter to that assembly, in which, after recounting the good services which he had rendered to the council of Constance, which, he observed, bore sufficient testimony of the zeal which he felt for the good of the church, he requested that the term appointed for the probation of Eugenius might be further prolonged for the space of thirty days. With this request the council immediately complied, and issued a decree accordingly.[202] Soon after the promulgation of this decree, the emperor arrived in Basil, and his influence was speedily visible, in the additional lenity shewn to the pontiff, by the prorogation of further proceedings against him for the space of ninety days, from the sixth of November, 1433, on which day Sigismund assisted in person at the sitting of the council, adorned with all the insignia of imperial authority.

Whilst Sigismund was thus exerting his influence to avert from Eugenius the evil consequences of his stern refusal to concur in any act derogatory to the prerogatives of the sovereign pontificate, the proceedings of the council afforded the enemies of the pontiff a pretext to gratify their ambition and revenge, by the invasion of his territories. It has been before observed, that in the course of the late war which the duke of Milan had waged with various success against the Florentines, that prince had been greatly irritated by the support given to his adversaries by the pontiff, on whom he determined to signalize his vengeance whenever a convenient opportunity should present itself. When, therefore, the council of Basil had decreed, that the refusal of the pontiff to concur in its measures should render him liable to the penalty of suspension from all pontifical functions whatsoever, the duke aided and abetted Francesco Sforza, who, under pretence of enforcing the decrees of the council, made an irruption into the states of the church, and took possession of Jesi, Monte d’Olmo, Osimo, Ascoli, and Ancona. At the same time, the very centre of the ecclesiastical territories was invested by three noted Condottieri, Taliano, Furlano, Antonello da Siena, and Jacopo da Lunato, who, also professing to act on behalf of the council, invaded the duchy of Spoleto. Nor did the difficulties of Eugenius end here; for he now found by sad experience, that he who in the hour of prosperity injures a benefactor, may in the season of adversity find that benefactor in the number of his most implacable enemies. His territories were harrassed by the able warrior Niccolò Fortebraccio, who had formerly commanded the pontifical troops with great courage and fidelity, and had reduced under the ecclesiastical dominion the towns of Vetralla and Civita Vecchia; but when he demanded the recompense to which he justly imagined himself entitled, had indignantly received for answer, that the booty which he had taken in the expedition in which he had been engaged was an ample remuneration for his services. Poggio, who regarded his native country with that proud partiality which has always been a striking feature in the character of the Italians, was greatly chagrined when he saw the dominions of the pontiff laid waste by a war, the flames of which were kindled by a convention of Germans. His attachment to his master also filled him with the deepest concern, when he beheld the difficulties and dangers to which Eugenius was exposed by the incursions of his enemies. His sense of the pontiff’s misfortunes was the more acute, as he was well aware, that the comforts and emoluments of the officers of the pontifical household were liable to be materially diminished by the interruption of business, and the defalcation of the papal revenues, which must be the inevitable consequence of the present disturbances. Recollecting the disagreeable situation in which he had been formerly placed by the deposition of John XXII., he was fearful lest the council of Basil should dethrone his present lord, by which circumstance he would be reduced to the disgraceful alternative of either quitting the line of preferment, in which he had fixed all his hopes of future subsistence, or of adhering to the fortunes of a master, whose embarrassments would deprive him of the means of giving his servants a remuneration at all adequate either to their merits, or to their necessities. Full of these gloomy presages, he determined once more to address himself to the cardinal of St. Angelo, whom he regarded as at least the innocent author of the calamities which affected every considerate mind with sorrow. He accordingly transmitted to him the following letter, in which, wisely forbearing to reproach his friend for his past conduct, or to enforce with importunate energy the necessity of adopting new measures, he gave him such an account of the state of Italy, and of his own feelings, as was well calculated to make an impression upon his heart.

“Being some time ago alarmed by the prospect of impending calamity, and clearly foreseeing the tempests which have now begun to rage with the utmost violence, I detailed my apprehensions in a letter which I intended, most reverend father, to have addressed to you. That letter, which the nature of its subject caused to be extended to an extraordinary length, I did not send to you, according to my original design—not through fear of exciting your displeasure (for I know you too well to entertain any apprehensions on that subject) but through dread of giving offence to others. For though I am conscious that I was prompted to write merely by a wish to promote the public good, I was apprehensive lest my motives should be misconstrued, and lest it should be thought that my letter was dictated by flattery. You, however, and many other respectable characters, can bear witness, that flattery is not by any means among the number of my failings, and that neither a love of reputation, nor a regard for my own interest, ever induces me to prostitute my opinions, or to approve in words, what I disapprove in my heart. On some occasions indeed I have been materially injured by the freedom with which I am accustomed to speak my sentiments. But sensible as I was, that the dissensions of the powerful are always dangerous, and that the dissensions of ecclesiastics are attended with peculiar peril, inasmuch as they involve the hazard of immortal souls; having also frequently read and heard, that trifling disagreements have been inflamed into the greatest animosity and strife, to the utter ruin of states and empires, I was afraid lest this new contention amongst the chiefs of the sacerdotal order, should involve the Christian world in difficulties, which neither you nor your associates, whatever might be your inclination, would be able to obviate. When we are called to the task of deliberation, we may forbear to act if we please. But when we have begun to act, fortune, the arbitress of human affairs, directs the event; and directs it rather according to the dictates of her caprice, as Sallust observes, than according to the principles of reason. When you have once put yourself in motion, you cannot stop when you please. In perilous seasons it is the duty of the wise to try to preserve the ship by retaining it in the harbour. When you have committed yourself to the winds, you are compelled to obey their impulse. In these circumstances the most skilful pilot may suffer shipwreck, or at least, despairing of making any effectual resistance against the fury of the gale, he may be carried into regions far distant from those to which it was his wish to steer his course. When I reflected on these topics, I was in a manner irresistibly impelled, by my affection for our common country, to acquaint you with my sentiments. After having resided for so many years in the Roman court, I was grieved to see our affairs reduced to such a state, that we had every thing to fear, and but little to hope. In these circumstances I had no consolation for my sorrow: for I have not, like others, been so intent upon amassing riches, as to be able to lose my sense of the public calamity in the contemplation of my private prosperity. I could wish to be numbered amongst those

“Whose walls now rise, who rest in soft repose.”

“Though I am sensibly affected by the distresses of our church, yet I must confess, that if my own fortunes were not involved in the common danger, I should feel little compassion for those who have brought mischief upon their own heads, by the obstinate folly of their councils. But I am now distressed by a double grief. For as I have two countries, namely, the land of my nativity and the Roman court, the theatre of my industrious exertions, the ruin of the latter, which seems to be fast approaching, cannot but bring calamity upon the former. And certainly, matters are now brought to such an extremity, that human wisdom seems incompetent to the healing of the evil. A fire is kindled, which nothing but the most extensive ruin can extinguish. Much better would it have been that this unfortunate council had never assembled, than that it should have occasioned the devastation of Italy. We daily behold the fortresses and towns of this unhappy country plundered by a lawless soldiery.—Slaughter, fire, rapine, the violation of helpless females, swell the catalogue of her woes. Great occasion have we to lament, that the Holy Spirit (if indeed it now deigns to dwell amongst us) has changed its nature, and instead of being the author of peace and concord, is become the exciter of hatred and malevolence. Some people have entertained an opinion, that Italy has too long enjoyed the blessings of tranquillity, and they have supplied the ambitious with the means of disturbing the public peace. By this conduct they attempt to cure a slight indisposition by the introduction of a dangerous disease. For though it may be justly said, that the ecclesiastical body was in some respects out of order, the complaint was not of so serious a nature as to require the application of such violent remedies as are now resorted to. It can never be the part of wisdom to correct one error by the commission of a greater. But let us submit the issues of things to the direction of Providence. One thing I foresee, that some nations will derive advantage from our ruin, whilst others will share our afflictions. But I am not anxious about the destiny of other countries. I mourn over the calamities which I am well aware will be brought upon Italy by the oppression which we endure, and by the ambition of a prince who wishes to reign according to the dictates of his own arbitrary will. You must remember that I prophesied, that these evils would flow from the convocation of the council; and I have resolved to address you once more on this subject, in order to assure you that I was not prompted by resentment thus to communicate my opinion, and to prognosticate impending mischiefs. I beg that you will not be displeased either by my former, or by my present letter. If your conscience acquits you, regard my remarks as referring to others, and not to yourself. If you have inadvertently fallen into error, you ought to be grateful to him, who in the honest language of admonition, lays before you his own sentiments, or the opinions of the world at large concerning the nature of your conduct. For though your virtue has raised you to the highest degree of dignity, yet I know that you are but a man, that many circumstances escape your observation, that various matters elude your inquiries, and in short, that it is impossible for you to attain to universal or infallible knowledge.”[203]

It does not appear that this attempt of Poggio to induce the cardinal of St. Angelo to adopt the views of the Roman court was productive of any benefit either to himself or the pontiff. Eugenius, indeed, finding himself involved in the greatest difficulties, had determined to yield to necessity, and acknowledge the legality of the council. He accordingly commissioned the archbishop of Taranto, and the bishop of Cervi, to present to the assembled fathers a letter, in which he declared, that whereas great dissensions had arisen in consequence of his having dissolved the council then sitting at Basil, he was willing to testify his regard for the church by confirming the proceedings of that assembly, which he acknowledged to have been legally held and continued; unreservedly revoking the bulls by which its proceedings had been condemned, and professing that he would henceforth cease from doing any thing to the prejudice of the council, or of any of its adherents.[204] This letter, which was publicly read in the cathedral of Basil on the 5th of February 1434, gave considerable satisfaction to the friends of reformation and peace, who hoped that the happiest consequences would result from this union of the head and the principal members of the ecclesiastical body.—Together with his conciliatory epistle, Eugenius sent a commission, empowering several eminent dignitaries of the church to act as his representatives, and in his name to preside at the debates of the council. Such, however, was the jealousy with which the proceedings of the pontiff were observed, that before these deputies were permitted in their official capacity to take any part in the deliberations of the council, they were compelled to take an oath, whereby they bound themselves to maintain all the ordinances of that assembly, and particularly that decree which asserted, that the authority of a general council is paramount to that of the pope.[205]

Though by these acts of concession Eugenius appeared to have made his peace with the council, his dominions continued to feel the scourge of war. The freebooters by whom they were infested, in fact despised the debates of churchmen; and though they pretended that they invaded the ecclesiastical states in order to compel Eugenius to submit to the power of the council, they did not manifest any disposition to withdraw their forces when the pretended object of their expedition was accomplished. In these circumstances Eugenius endeavoured to diminish the number of his foes by soliciting Sforza to agree to terms of pacification. In this instance his efforts were crowned with the desired success. Sforza, on condition of his being appointed to the government of the Marca d’Ancona, with the title of apostolic vicar and gonfaloniere of the Roman church, not only consented to abstain from further hostilities against his holiness, but promised to defend the pontiff from the attacks of his other enemies. In pursuance of this promise, he turned his arms against Fortebraccio, whom he fought and defeated near Tivoli. The duke of Milan was greatly displeased by the change which had so suddenly taken place in the politics of Sforza; and still persisting in his determination to harrass the pontiff, he excited Niccolò Piccinino to attempt the conquest of his native city Perugia. Piccinino marching into Romagna with this intention, kept Sforza in check, and thus favoured the operations of Fortebraccio. The latter chieftain having received a reinforcement of troops from Viterbo, pushed his light cavalry to the very gates of Rome. On the approach of his forces, the faction of the Colonnas, who, though not openly, yet deeply resented the cruelty with which their chiefs had been treated at the commencement of Eugenius’s pontificate, and had long been waiting for an opportunity of taking vengeance on their adversaries, flew to arms, exhorting the populace to assert their liberty. [May 29th, A. D. 1433.] The insurrection soon became general, and the rebellious Romans, not contented with imprisoning Francesco Condolmieri, the nephew of Eugenius, surrounded with guards the residence of the pontiff himself. Eugenius, however, disguising himself in the habit of a monk, had the good fortune to elude their vigilance; [June 5th] and, attended by two only of his domestics, threw himself into a small bark, with an intention of taking refuge in Ostia. But he had not proceeded far down the Tyber, before he was recognised by the populace, who, crowding to the banks of the river, almost overwhelmed him with a shower of stones and arrows. So fierce was their attack, that it was not without considerable difficulty that the fugitive pontiff effected his escape, and retired, first to Leghorn, and afterwards to Florence.[206]

On this occasion the officers of the pontifical household were dispersed, each providing for his own safety according to the dictates of his prudence, or his fear. The greater number of them, embarking in some small coasting vessels, set sail for Pisa; but were met in the course of their voyage by some Corsican pirates, who plundered them of all their property. Others, attempting to proceed to Florence by land, were exposed to various vexations. Poggio had the misfortune to fall into the hands of the soldiers of Piccinino, who detained him in captivity, in the expectation of extorting from him a considerable sum of money, by way of ransom.[207] When the intelligence of this event reached the Tuscan territory, it excited the deep concern of all his acquaintance, and particularly of Ambrogio Traversari, who, without delay, earnestly solicited Francesco, count of Poppio, to exert all his influence to procure his liberation.

“Since I wrote to you,” says he in his letter to the count, “I have received information that my most intimate friend, the dear associate of my studies, Poggio, the papal secretary, is detained in captivity by the magnificent lord and excellent captain Niccolò Piccinino. Believe me this intelligence is very painful to my feelings—but the concern which I experience is much alleviated by the opinion which I have long entertained of your humanity, and which induces me to hope that I shall not make a request to you in vain.—I beg and beseech you therefore, my lord, to use all diligence to effect the liberation of one whom you know to be most dear to me. I presume that the illustrious chieftain, at whose disposal he now is, can deny you nothing, especially when you make a reasonable request on behalf of a friend. I should be more diffuse in my petition did I think it were needful, and were I not assured, that fewer words than those which I have already written will be sufficient to induce Piccinino to restore so learned and so liberally minded a man as Poggio to liberty.”[208]

The endeavours of Ambrogio to procure the gratuitous release of Poggio were ineffectual. The rugged soldiers who detained the learned secretary in captivity, had no sympathy with the feelings of friendship. They respected not the accomplishments of the scholar; and in all probability their observation of the esteem in which their prisoner was held by his friends, served only to enhance the price which they demanded for his liberation. Finding that he had no other means of deliverance, Poggio purchased his freedom at the expense of a sum of money, which the narrowness of his circumstances rendered it very inconvenient for him to pay; and immediately on his enlargement, he continued his route to Florence.[209]

CHAP. VI.

State of parties in Florence—Cosmo de’ Medici at the head of the faction of the people—His banishment—Poggio’s letter to him on that occasion—Francesco Filelfo an enemy of the Medici—Poggio’s quarrel with Filelfo.

CHAP. VI.

At almost any other period than that of the flight of Eugenius from Rome, the dangers and inconveniences to which Poggio was exposed in following the fortunes of his master, would have been in a great measure counterbalanced by the opportunity which the translation of the pontifical court to Florence afforded him of revisiting the scene of his youthful studies. He was accustomed to regard the Tuscan capital as a sure refuge in the season of calamity, as a hospitable retreat, where, whenever he was oppressed by adverse fortune, he might sooth his cares to rest in the bosom of friendship. But how frequently do events demonstrate the fallaciousness of human expectations! When at the termination of his journey, the stately towers of Florence rose to the view of Poggio, he experienced a sentiment of deep dejection, in reflecting, that amongst the friends whose eagerness to congratulate him on his safe arrival, he anticipated, in pleasing imagination, he should not now behold his illustrious protector, Cosmo de Medici, whom the intrigues of faction had lately banished from his native land. This celebrated man had inherited from his ancestors a considerable property, which he had improved by his own industry and skill in mercantile affairs. In popular governments, riches, if they are diffused with a liberal hand, generally become the means of acquiring power; and if the possessor of wealth unite with generosity the discernment of prudence and the graces of urbanity, he almost infallibly secures to himself the permanent favour of the people. To Cosmo, therefore, in whose character these virtues met in happy conjunction, the Florentine populace looked up with sentiments of enthusiastic admiration. Examining the history of his native city with the eye of a statesman, and meditating upon the civic revolutions which he himself had witnessed, that sagacious politician had observed, that in the contentions for power which had frequently taken place between the aristocracy and the lower orders of the state, the plebeian faction had almost always failed, through want of a leader whose authority might restrain their irregularities, and whose judgment might give to their efforts the consistency and energy of system. In order to supply this deficiency, he placed himself at the head of the popular party, presuming no doubt, that whilst he exercised his splendid talents for the benefit of his adherents, he could at the same time make use of the favour of the people to promote his own emolument and glory.[210] Acting with these views, he soon gained a degree of ascendency in the republic, which enabled him to embarrass the measures of the aristocracy. Cosmo now found by experience, that he who engages in civil dissensions embarks on a sea of troubles. The chiefs of the opposite party regarded him with that hatred, which the privileged orders usually entertain against those who attempt to restrain their ambition and diminish their power. At the head of the nobility was Rinaldo degli Albizzi, who watched the proceedings of Cosmo with all the vigilance of factious jealousy, and resolved to seize the earliest opportunity to effect his destruction. With this view Rinaldo procured the appointment of Bernardo Guadagni, a declared enemy to popular rights, to the office of gonfaloniere, or chief magistrate of the republic. No sooner was Guadagni invested with his new honours, than he made the requisite preparations to subdue the faction of the people. At this time Cosmo was at his country seat at Mugello, a pleasant valley, situated at a small distance from Florence,[211] whither he had withdrawn, in order to avoid the confusion of civil discord; but the proceedings of Guadagni could not be concealed from his partizans, who immediately sent messengers to inform him that his adversaries were meditating some enterprise of a hostile nature. On the receipt of this intelligence Cosmo repaired to Florence, and waiting on some of the chief magistrates whom he regarded as his personal friends, he represented to them the reasons which he had to be alarmed for his safety. Being either ignorant of the designs of Rinaldo, or eager to secure their victim by the base artifices of treachery, these men assured him that he had nothing to fear; and in order to lull his apprehensions to sleep, nominated him as one of a council of eight, by whose advice, as they said, they wished to be guided in the government of the state.[212] Cosmo put so much confidence in these demonstrations of friendship, that he readily obeyed a summons which he soon afterwards received, requiring him to attend at a council which was to be held on the seventh of September, 1433, to deliberate upon the best method of securing the tranquillity of the republic. He was no sooner arrived at the palace, than the square in front of that edifice was lined with armed men, commanded by Rinaldo and the other chiefs of the aristocracy. Under the control of this guard the people were summoned to elect two hundred deputies, to whom was to be delegated the important business of deciding upon the reforms which were necessary in the administration of public affairs. These deputies were no sooner chosen, than their attention was directed to Cosmo by his enemies, some of whom loudly demanded his death, as necessary to the preservation of the public tranquillity; whilst others, more moderate in their views, and more merciful in their dispositions, insisted upon it, that this desirable end would be effectually accomplished, by banishing him to a distance from the territories of the republic. During this awful deliberation, Cosmo was detained a prisoner in the palace, from the windows of which, whilst he anxiously endeavoured, by watching the gestures of his judges, to prognosticate his fate, he heard the din of arms, and observed the movements of the troops. The fear of some of the deputies, and the secret attachment of others to the person of Cosmo, preventing the assembly from coming to any immediate determination of his destiny, he was for the present committed to the custody of Federigo Malavolti. Finding himself thus in the power of his enemies, and understanding that they had not been able to prevail on the deputies to decree his death, he was apprehensive that they would attempt to take him off by poison. Powerfully impressed by this idea, for the space of four days he declined taking any food, except a small portion of bread. The pride of Federigo was offended by this suspicion of his prisoner, whom he is said to have addressed in the following terms:—“Through fear of dying by poison, Cosmo, you are destroying yourself by famine. And have you so little reliance on my honour as to think that I would be accessary to such villainy? So numerous are your friends, that I do not think your life is in any danger; but should your destruction be determined upon, rest assured, that your adversaries will find other means than my assistance to effect their purpose. I would not imbrue my hands in any one’s blood, much less in yours, who have never offended me. Be of good courage—take your food, and live for your friends and your country; and that you may take your repast in full confidence, I will partake of whatsoever you eat.” Overcome by this manly address, Cosmo, with tears in his eyes, embraced his keeper, and vowed, that if fortune should ever put it in his power, he would testify his grateful sense of his kindness.

When the adherents of Cosmo were informed of his imprisonment, they took up arms with a determination to effect his deliverance: but by the direction of his particular friends, who were justly apprehensive that Rinaldo would be provoked by any hostile attempt on their part to signalize his vengeance by the murder of his prisoner, they retired without accomplishing any thing in his favour. When the news of the arrest of Cosmo reached Venice, the seigniory of that republic took such a lively interest in his fate, that they sent to Florence three ambassadors, who were instructed to exert all their influence in his favour. At last these plenipotentiaries could obtain from the Florentine magistracy nothing more than an assurance that the person of Cosmo should be safe. When he was at length sentenced to be banished to Padua for ten years, they requested from the magistrates that during the term of his exile he might be permitted to reside in their city. The petition of the Venetians was granted; but the triumphant nobles still detained Cosmo in custody as an hostage, to secure the acquiescence of his partizans in the new measures which they intended to adopt for the regulation of the state. They were also prompted to protract his imprisonment by the malicious hope, that the hazardous nature of his situation would injure his commercial credit. When Cosmo found himself thus unexpectedly detained, with the connivance of his keeper he sent a message to his friends, directing them to purchase the favour of Guadagni by the timely application of a sum of money. Influenced by this powerful motive, the mercenary chief magistrate, on the night of the third of October, liberated his prisoner from custody, and conducting him through one of the city gates, suffered him without further molestation to proceed on his route to Padua, from whence he proceeded to Venice. On his arrival at the latter city, the illustrious exile was met by the principal citizens, who received him with every mark of honour and respect; and he had not long resided there, before the administrators of the Tuscan government were persuaded, by the reiterated instances of the seigniory, to enlarge the sphere of his liberty to the full extent of the territories of the Venetian republic.[213]

In the days of his prosperity, Cosmo had been distinguished as the munificent patron of learned men. To them his doors were constantly open; and his purse was always ready to assist their efforts to promote the diffusion of literature. Poggio had long enjoyed the happiness of being honoured by his particular favour. The pleasing interchange of beneficence and gratitude, which had at an early period taken place between the learned secretary and the princely merchant of Florence, had been matured into the intimacy of the most cordial friendship. Poggio was not one of those sycophants who reserve their homage for the prosperous; and who, with the base foresight which is too frequently dignified with the name of prudence, studiously disengage themselves from the fortunes of a falling family. When he received information that his benefactor had been obliged to yield to the fury of his enemies, he experienced all the emotions of affectionate sympathy; and hastened to testify his undiminished regard for his persecuted friend in the following consolatory epistle.

“Though the serious misfortune in which you are involved is too great to be alleviated by consolation, especially by such consolation as can be administered by one of my moderate abilities—yet, following the dictates of my affection for you, I had rather run the hazard of exposing the feebleness of my genius, than fail in the duty of friendship. It is said that trifling circumstances sometimes produce considerable effects in affairs of the greatest moment; and I may be permitted to indulge the hope, that this epistle may tend, in some small degree, to lighten the weight of your affliction. You have experienced the capriciousness of fortune, (for this goddess we may blame with impunity) and you are fallen from a station of considerable eminence. Now, though I have always observed that you are endowed with a strength of mind which enables you to regard with indifference afflictions which would overwhelm the generality of men, yet when I consider the magnitude of your misfortunes, I cannot but be apprehensive of the effect which they may have upon your feelings. If in your present circumstances you rise in the confidence of courage, superior to the assaults of fortune; if you have placed your independence upon the security of a pure conscience, rather than upon external good; and if you value the blessings of the present life at no higher a rate than is consistent with the dictates of true wisdom—I congratulate you on the acquisition of that happy constitution of mind which renders consolation unnecessary. If, on the other hand, in consequence of the natural frailty incident to humanity, this sudden change in your circumstances has disturbed the tranquillity of your temper, (and before this trial the constancy of the most illustrious men has been found to give way) you must have recourse to the principles of reason, which will suggest to you, that you have lost nothing which can be truly called your own. Dignities, authority, and honours, riches, power, and health, are liable to be impaired by the shocks of fortune, and the machinations of our enemies. But prudence, magnanimity, probity, fortitude, and fidelity, are qualities which we obtain by our own exertions, and which we may retain in defiance of external injury and distress. These virtues you have cultivated as your firmest defence in the hour of danger; and whilst you are possessed of this rich endowment, you should rejoice in the enjoyment of such exquisite blessings, rather than grieve on account of the wrongs which you suffer from your foes. I am well assured, that you are not of the number of those who fix their hopes of happiness on the kindness of fortune. For, notwithstanding the ample possessions, and the exalted honours which you have formerly attained, (possessions and honours superior to any which have fallen to the lot of any other citizen of our state) you have always made it your study to acquire those good qualities of the heart, which render a man independent of externals. In public affairs, uniting prudence in deliberation, with ability in execution, you have always acted with such good faith and integrity, that you reserved for yourself nothing, save honour and glory. Would all men follow so worthy an example, our republic would enjoy much greater tranquillity than falls to her lot at present. You have given the most ample proof of your dutifulness to your native country, of liberality to your friends, and benevolence to all men. You have been the support of the needy, the refuge of the oppressed, the patron and friend of the learned. You have used the gifts of fortune with such moderation, modesty, and kindness, that they appeared to be nothing more than the due reward paid to your virtue and merits. I forbear to dwell upon the literary pursuits in which you have been engaged from the days of your youth, and in which you have made such progress, that you are justly deemed an ornament and an honour to learning. When the important affairs of a public nature, by which your time has of late years been occupied, prevented you from dedicating to study as much time as you wished to have appropriated to that pursuit, you sought instruction and gratification in the conversation of learned men, whom you invited to partake of the hospitality of your house. From these eminent scholars you imbibed the precepts of wisdom, which you resolved to adopt as the rule of your conduct in all circumstances and situations.

“The consciousness of innocence, and the remembrance of virtuous deeds, is the greatest source of consolation in adversity. He who can appeal to his own heart in proof of the uprightness of his intentions—he who can truly say that he has acted honourably both in his public and private capacity, that he has always studied the promotion of the general good, that he has assisted his friends with wholesome advice, and the poor with money; that he has hurt no one, not even those who had injured him—this man must be well prepared to endure the shock of adversity. A course of conduct, regulated by these principles, confers true and solid dignity. On this foundation you have established your character as a worthy man and an excellent citizen. Acting on these principles, you have risen to immortal glory. Wherever you go, that best of blessings, the testimony of a good conscience, will attend you; and the memory of your virtues will survive when you are laid in the grave.

“Now, since the retrospect of your past conduct affords you such a pure delight, you ought to feel yourself elated by conscious dignity: for on what can we justly pride ourselves, except on the reputation which we have acquired by our virtues? Since, then, you have so strong a fortress, in which you can take refuge in time of trouble, turn your attention to those things which accompany you in your exile, namely, your liberality, your prudence, your gravity, your upright intentions, your discernment, your attachment to your native country, for which you have always testified the utmost affection; and especially in the late civil broils to which you have fallen a victim. I need not remind you of your literary pursuits, which so signally contribute to the alleviation of sorrow, and to the strengthening of the mind by the examples and precepts of the most worthy men. For you know that philosophers of old have maintained, that the mind of the wise man is beyond the reach of the impulses of fortune, and that it mocks the efforts of external violence—that virtue is the chief good—and that all other possessions are blessings, or the contrary, according to the disposition of the possessor. But I do not require that you should be of the number of those faultless friends of wisdom, who have, perhaps, never existed, excepting in idea. I only hope that you will be found worthy to class with those, who, according to common acceptation, and the general course of human conduct, are reputed wise.

“And, in the first place, consider how far fortune has exercised her tyranny in your case. For, if you could divest yourself of the first impressions of grief, and coolly consider what she has taken away, and what she has left, you will find that you have sustained little injury—nay, that you have derived benefit from her caprice. She has banished you from your native country, which you have often voluntarily quitted—but she has restored to you your liberty, which you did not enjoy when you seemed to be the freest man in the state. She has deprived you of a certain specious appearance of dignity, and of the respect of the vulgar, who are always mistaken in their estimate of true felicity—but she has left you your children, your wife, your riches, your good health, and your excellent brother: and, surely, the pleasures which these blessings bestow upon you ought far to outweigh the mortification which you experience in consequence of your losses. She has taken away from you a kind of civic pomp, and a popularity full of trouble, labour, envy, anxiety, and continual cares. These honours many men eminent for their prudence have despised. Their loss may be a matter of sorrow to those who have endeavoured to convert them into a source of gain; but you, whom they involved in so much labour and difficulty, ought not to be concerned at being deprived of them, especially as they never were the objects of your desire or ambition. For you did not enter upon public offices with a view of promoting your own interest, or of increasing your importance, but with an ardent desire of doing good to the public. Fortune has restored you to real liberty. You were formerly, in fact, a mere slave. You could not follow your own inclinations, either in sleeping or waking, in eating or in taking exercise. Frequently were you prevented, by the imperious claims of public business, from assisting your friends, and indulging in the delights of retirement. Your time was at the disposal of others, and you were obliged to attend to every person’s sentiments. Many favours you were compelled to grant, in direct opposition to your own wishes, nay, even in opposition to the dictates of equity; and you were frequently reduced to the disagreeable necessity of practising the art of dissimulation. This change of fortune has, however, set you at liberty, for it has certainly restored to you the freedom of your will. It has also enabled you to put to the test the constancy of those who professed themselves your friends; and it has, moreover, called into exercise the steady fortitude of your soul. All your acquaintance had seen with how great politeness, gentleness, clemency, equity, and moderation, you conducted yourself in the season of prosperity—a season in which men who have attained to some eminence in wisdom have frequently been betrayed into evil. This new species of trial gives you an opportunity of showing the vigour with which you can struggle against the storms of adversity. Many can bear prosperity, who shrink before the impulse of misfortune. Others, who have shone conspicuously in the season of sorrow, have given way to the emotions of vanity and pride in the hour of their exaltation. But you we have beheld neither inflated by arrogance in prosperity, nor sunk into dejection by adversity. In either fortune, you have exhibited an example of the most unruffled equanimity.

“Let the following consideration support you in the midst of your trials—that you are not the first, and that you will not be the last man whose services to his country have been repaid by unmerited exile. History abounds in instances of excellent men, who have been cruelly persecuted by their ungrateful fellow citizens. They who cannot bear the splendour of another’s virtues are unwilling to look upon it. Envy is commonly the companion of glory—envy which always torments those who cannot attain to the eminence of honour; and instigates them to persecute with slander and malevolence the illustrious characters whose virtues they are unable to imitate. Hence it happens, that very few men of superlative talents escape the fury of civil tempests. The fear of giving offence deters me from dwelling upon the instances of this nature, which have occurred in modern times, and in our own republic. But whosoever examines the records of antiquity will find, that the odium excited by civil discord has occasioned the banishment of a considerable number of excellent citizens—and that, not in our country alone, but in other states of the greatest eminence. To say nothing of the Greeks and Barbarians, the Roman republic, even at the time when it is represented as having attained to the highest pitch of glory, was afflicted with this infirmity. A few examples will be sufficient to demonstrate the truth of my assertion. Which of his contemporaries was equal in valour, probity, and illustrious deeds to Furius Camillus? Yet, in consequence of the malevolence of the tribunes and the populace, he was compelled to retire into exile; at a time too when his country stood very much in need of his assistance. You well remember the important services rendered to the Roman commonwealth by Scipio Africanus; you recollect the moderation, continence, and gravity, which shone so conspicuously in the life of the illustrious conqueror of Hannibal—yet he too was driven from his native country by the rage of the tribunes. The uprightness and sanctity of P. Rutilius were the very causes of his banishment. When this man had an opportunity of returning to his country in consequence of Sylla’s victory, he had the honest pride to refuse to fix his residence in a state in which arms were superior to the laws. The villany of Clodius expelled M. T. Cicero, the saviour of his country, who is said to have been accustomed to boast, that he was carried back to Rome on the shoulders of all Italy. History has recorded the names of several other renowned men who have shared the same fate: but I have only mentioned these four, the consideration of whose destiny may prevent you from being surprised at your own misfortunes. I shall not pretend to maintain that you are equal to these exalted characters in fame and splendour—but this I will say, that, like them, you have experienced an ungrateful return for your good services to your fellow citizens; and that in one respect your glory is not at all inferior to theirs. For, in my opinion, you deserve to be held in everlasting remembrance for the deference which you paid to the decree of the magistrates, though you knew the doom which awaited you. For when, as it is commonly reported, you could have repelled the meditated injury by the assistance of your partizans, and the interference of the populace, you thought it better to submit to wrong, than to avert it by violence.[214] And as civil tumults never end in good, consulting for the quiet of your country, and the tranquillity of your fellow citizens, you prudently suffered this sudden storm to waste its fury on yourself and your connections, rather than endanger the republic by exciting the flame of war. By this conduct you have attained to the height—I say not of modern, but of ancient glory. For what is more laudable than that disposition which prompts a man to expose himself to the fury of the billows for the sake of the general safety? Under the influence of that virtue which prefers public to private good, other states have flourished, and the Roman republic attained to universal dominion.

“Protected then as you are by the most illustrious virtues, you ought not to complain. You ought to be thankful to fortune, which has called these virtues into exercise, and has summoned you to a contest, in which you will gain the highest commendation on earth, and eternal glory in heaven. These two things are the objects of the most ardent wishes of good men; for they are the meed of virtue. During the remainder of your life, then, enjoy the blessings which you still possess with a tranquil and peaceful mind; and in whatever land your lot may be cast, think that your country, the theatre of your dignity—the spot where you are called to exert your talents for the promotion of the public good.”[215]

Such were the counsels by which Poggio endeavoured to fortify the mind of his banished patron against the shafts of adverse fortune. His letter breathes the spirit of enlightened friendship, and his choice of topics of consolation evinces an accurate knowledge of the human heart. It may be reasonably conjectured, that Cosmo was highly gratified by this proof of his sincere attachment, and that he profited by his good advice. But the administration of wholesome counsel was not the only mode in which Poggio, on this occasion, testified his zeal in the cause of his persecuted benefactor. In the intercourses of friendship, his temperament disposed him strongly to sympathize with the resentment of those whom he regarded with sentiments of esteem and affection. Consequently the injuries sustained by Cosmo inspired him with the utmost degree of animosity against the family of the Albizzi, and all their partizans and abettors. This animosity against the enemies of his exiled friend, which he took no pains to disguise, soon involved him in a most violent quarrel with the celebrated Francesco Filelfo, who had been induced by the turbulence of his temper, to intermeddle in the political disputes which had for a long space of time disturbed the tranquillity of Florence, and to discharge the venom of his spleen against the house of Medici and all its adherents.

This extraordinary man was born at Tolentino, on the twenty-fifth of July, 1398. Having given early indications of a love of literature, he was sent to prosecute his studies in the university of Padua. In this seminary he made such an uncommon proficiency, that when he had attained the age of eighteen, he read lectures on eloquence to numerous audiences. The reputation which he had acquired by this early display of brilliant talents procured him an invitation to instruct the noble youth of Venice in polite literature. This invitation he readily accepted; and in the discharge of his public duties he acquitted himself so much to the satisfaction of his employers, that he was presented with the freedom of the state. In the course of a little time after his settlement in Venice, the seigniory testified their sense of his merits by appointing him to the office of secretary to the embassy which they usually maintained at Constantinople. This office he retained for the space of two years, at the end of which period he entered into the service of the Greek emperor, John Palæologus, who employed him in affairs of the greatest consequence. In the character of confidential agent or envoy of that monarch, he visited the courts of Amurath II. the Turkish sultan, and of Sigismund, emperor of Germany. During his residence at Constantinople he married Theodora, the daughter of a noble Greek, the celebrated John Crysoloras. In the year 1427 he quitted Constantinople and returned to Venice. As he had assiduously improved the opportunities which he had lately enjoyed of cultivating the knowledge of Grecian literature, he expected, on his return to his adopted country, to be hailed as the champion of science, and the restorer of learning.[216] But in this expectation he was disappointed. His name no longer possessed the charm of novelty. The interest which was occasioned on his first visit to Venice, by the circumstance of his filling the professor’s chair at so early an age, was naturally weakened by the lapse of nearly eight years; and in all probability the jealous aristocracy of the Venetian capital resented his quitting the service of their state for the honours and emoluments of the Byzantine court. These causes concurred to render his reception at Venice by no means flattering to his feelings. The mortification which he experienced on this occasion was heightened by the deplorable state of his finances, which the expenses of his increasing family had reduced to a very low ebb. From these circumstances of embarrassment he was relieved by the liberality of the citizens of Bologna, who invited him to read lectures on eloquence and moral philosophy in their university; and engaged to requite his services by an annual stipend of four hundred and fifty gold crowns. Readily accepting this invitation, he repaired to Bologna with all convenient speed. Soon after he had entered upon his new office, that city, which had lately revolted from Martin V., was doomed to suffer the horrors of a siege, in consequence of which literary pursuits were entirely suspended. Thus circumstanced, Filelfo began to feel no small degree of anxiety, not only concerning the means of his future support, but also for the safety of himself and his family. His uneasiness was, however, mitigated by the receipt of very friendly letters from Niccolo Niccoli and Pallas Strozza, urging him to quit Bologna, and exercise his talents for public instruction in Florence.[217] After a negociation of some length, he agreed to give lectures on the Greek and Roman classics, for the consideration of an annual salary of three hundred gold crowns, to be paid out of the revenues of the state. But when he had concluded this agreement, he experienced very considerable difficulties in effecting his departure from Bologna, which was closely invested by the pontifical army. These difficulties being at length overcome, he hastened to Florence, where he was received with every demonstration of respect, and commenced his labours with the utmost zeal.[218] The following sketch of his first lectures, which is preserved in the works of Ambrogio Traversari, demonstrates that in the execution of his engagement he exerted a most laudable degree of industry. At the dawn of day he explained and commented upon Cicero’s Tusculan questions, the first decad of Livy, Cicero’s treatise on Rhetoric, and Homer’s Iliad. After an interval of a few hours, he delivered extraordinary lectures on Terence, Cicero’s Epistles and Orations, Thucydides and Xenophon. In addition to this laborious course of instruction, he also daily read a lecture on Morals.[219] Such was the arduous task undertaken by Filelfo—a task which demanded the exertions of a literary Hercules. He was, however, animated to the endurance of toil by the number and dignity of his audience, which daily consisted of four hundred persons, many of whom were not less eminent for their literary acquirements, than for the rank which they held in the state.[220]

On Filelfo’s arrival in Florence, he found the inhabitants of that city divided into factions, and was by no means insensible of the difficulties which he had to encounter in endeavouring to avoid being involved in their disputes.[221] For the space of two years he seems to have acted with becoming discretion, and to have pursued his literary occupations without rendering himself subservient to the views of either party. His prudence was rewarded by an increase of his salary, which was augmented, towards the latter end of the year 1432, to the sum of three hundred and fifty gold crowns.[222] Unfortunately however for his peace of mind, he had not resided long at Florence, before he began to suspect that Niccolo Niccoli and Carlo Aretino, the latter of whom was one of the most accomplished of the Tuscan scholars, moved by envy of his literary fame, regarded him with sentiments of determined hostility. The irritable temper of Niccolo was indeed provoked by the supercilious pride of the new Coryphæus, who, without the least reserve of diffidence, assumed the high degree of eminence in the scale of importance to which he deemed himself entitled, and looked down upon the learned Florentines with undisguised disdain. Well knowing the intimacy which subsisted between Niccolo Niccoli and Cosmo de’ Medici, Filelfo took it for granted, that the latter would adopt the quarrels of his friend, and consequently apprehended that he had much to dread from the effects of his resentment. In this apprehension he was confirmed by the manifest coolness with which he was treated by Lorenzo, the brother of Cosmo; and he regarded the assurances which he received from the latter, that his suspicions with respect to himself were groundless, as a refinement of malice, intended to betray him into a fatal security.[223] His dread of the machinations of his enemies was also increased by a violent attack made upon him in the streets of Florence, by one Filippo, a noted assassin, by whom he was severely wounded in the face.[224]

Whilst Filelfo was brooding over his real or imagined wrongs, a contest arose between the two factions which divided the city of Florence, in consequence of a quarrel which had occurred between the houses of Soderini and Guzano.[225] On this occasion he publicly enlisted himself on the side of the aristocracy, and under the pretext of honest indignation against injustice, gratified his personal resentment, by publishing a poetical philippic against the factious disposition of the Florentine populace, into the commencement of which he introduced a violent attack upon the family of the Medici.[226] Not contented with this act of provocation, he afterwards turned the artillery of his wrath directly against Cosmo, whom he insulted in a satire against confidence in riches, in which he attempted to disguise the reproaches of malevolence in the garb of philosophic advice.

The well known liberality of Cosmo’s disposition, the laudable uses to which he appropriated a considerable portion of his vast wealth, and the engaging familiarity with which he was accustomed to converse with people of merit in every class of life, constituted the most convincing proof of the malignant falsehood of this libel; and the adherents of the house of Medici would have done well, had they treated it with contempt. But thirsting for revenge, they endeavoured to expel the offending satirist from the city, by inducing the assembly of the people considerably to diminish the salaries allowed to the public instructors maintained by the state. To this defalcation of their revenues, the other professors patiently submitted; but Filelfo appealed to the senate, and by the power of his eloquence persuaded that body to restore their literary servants to their former footing in point of emolument. He had also the good fortune to procure the abrogation of a second ordinance obtained by his enemies, whereby the whole of the sums annually granted for the support of public education were marked as objects of retrenchment.[227]

Irritated by these hostile measures, Filelfo declared open war against Cosmo and his friends. He poured forth a torrent of invective in a series of satires, in which the severity of Juvenal, and his nauseous delineations of atrocious vices, are much more successfully imitated than the sublimity of his moral precepts, or the dignity of his style. The bitterness of Filelfo’s wrath was particularly directed against Niccolo Niccoli, whom, sometimes under the contemptuous appellation of Utis, and sometimes under the fanciful designation of Lycolaus, he charged with envy of the learned—hatred of the virtuous—extravagant anger—infidelity—blasphemy—and the most disgusting impurities which have ever swelled the black catalogue of human crimes.[228]

The arrest of Cosmo de’ Medici filled the heart of Filelfo with the greatest joy, as it not only freed him from the dread of a formidable adversary, but also gratified his pride, by fulfilling certain prophetic denunciations with which he had concluded his satire against confidence in wealth. In the exhilaration of triumph, he exulted over the fallen demagogue, to whom he gave the fictitious name of Mundus, in a copy of verses, in the conclusion of which he earnestly exhorted the Florentine nobility not to endanger the safety of the state, by commuting the punishment of death, which their prisoner merited, for the lighter penalty of banishment.[229] Happily for Cosmo, as it has been already related, the sanguinary counsels of his personal enemies were rejected.

Thus when Poggio arrived in Florence, he found the party of his kindest friends reduced to a state of irksome humiliation—his most powerful protector driven into exile; and his most intimate associates daily annoyed by the rancorous effusions of a libeller, whose malignant imagination seemed to supply an inexhaustible store of topics of abuse. In these circumstances, by the fidelity of his attachment to the persecuted partizans of the Medici, he drew down upon his own head the lightning of Filelfo’s wrath; and he soon found himself exhibited as a conspicuous figure in the groups of outrageous caricaturas drawn by the bold hand of the enraged satirist.[230] During the exile of Cosmo, his dread of incurring the displeasure of the ruling faction induced him to submit to obloquy in silence; and Filelfo enjoyed the mean triumph of those who wantonly malign an adversary whose pen is restrained by the strong hand of the civil power. But this triumph was of short duration. The first year of Cosmo’s banishment was not expired, before he was recalled by the commanding voice of the people. On his approach to the city his enemies fled; and amongst the rest, Filelfo, conscious of the provocations by which he had stimulated his resentment, hastily quitted Florence, and withdrew to Siena.[231]

Poggio expressed his joy on the return of his friend in a long epistle, in the commencement of which he intimated, that he had chosen that mode of address in preference to a personal congratulation, in order that his commendation of his patron might be diffused amongst such of the learned as felt an interest in the perusal of his compositions. He then proceeded to dilate at considerable length upon the unanimity with which the Florentine people passed the decree of the recall of Cosmo, which, he justly observed, was a most distinguished proof of his merits. “This is,” said he, “in my opinion, the greatest subject of congratulation in your case—that all ranks concurred in bearing testimony to your dignity and virtue. So earnest was the desire of your return, that the inconveniences resulting to yourself from your exile, must be far overbalanced by the unprecedented honour and affection with which your fellow citizens have received you on your return to your native country.” He concluded this epistle by exhorting his friend to persevere in those virtuous principles which had been his support in the day of adversity, and which had caused him to be restored to the exalted rank in the state from which he had been for a short period displaced by the intrigues of faction.[232]

Poggio had long meditated a signal retaliation of the insults which he had experienced from Filelfo; and no sooner did the Medici regain their ascendancy in the republic, than he proceeded to administer to the acrimonious Tolentine the merciless severity of a literary castigation. Wisely stepping forward as the indignant friend of the injured Niccolo Niccoli, rather than as the avenger of his own wrongs, he published an invective against Filelfo, in which he almost exhausted the Latin language in the accumulation of epithets of abuse. Noticing the obscenity of the satire which, as he says, Filelfo “had vomited forth against his friend, from the feculent stores of his putrid mouth,” he reproved him for the use of terms and phrases which even a strumpet of any degree of reputation would be ashamed to utter. The propensity of the satirist to the adoption of such language, he ascribed to the early taste which he had acquired for impurity, in consequence of the occupation of his mother, whom he represented as living at Rimini, engaged in the most sordid offices.[233] Tracing the history of his antagonist from his earliest days, he alleged, that he was banished from Padua, in consequence of his indulgence of the most depraved propensities; and that, when he had been hospitably entertained at Constantinople by John Crysoloras, he repaid the kindness of his host by debauching his daughter. By the perpetration of this crime, if credit may be given to the assertions of Poggio, Filelfo obtained the hand of a lady, to whom, if her conduct had been in any degree answerable to the nobility of her descent, he would never have had the audacity to aspire.[234] Finally, the enraged secretary accused his adversary of bartering the honour of his wife for the most vicious gratifications, and concluded his invective by proposing to ornament his brows—not with a wreath of laurel, but with a crown more befitting the filthiness of his conversation.[235]

This scurrility, as it might have been naturally expected, served only to inflame the hostile passions which had so long rankled in the breast of Filelfo, and to direct his fury against his new assailant. The exiled professor, accordingly, once more dipping his pen in gall, traduced the morals, and vilified the talents of Poggio, in a bitter satire of one hundred verses in length; of the virulence of which the reader may form some idea from the following translation of its commencement.

Poggio! ere long thy babbling tongue shall feel

The keen impression of the trenchant steel;

That tongue, the herald of malicious lies,

That sheds its venom on the good and wise.

What mighty master in detraction’s school,

Thus into knavery has matured a fool?

Has Niccolo—that scandal of the times,

Taught thee to dare the last extreme of crimes?

Yes! taught by Niccolo, thou spreadst thy rage

O’er the wide area of thy feeble page.

Fain wouldst thou pour the torrent of thine ire

From lips that glow with all a Tully’s fire;

But, thy weak nerves by stale debauch unstrung,

Thy half-formed accents tremble on thy tongue.

Of filth enamoured, like a hideous swine,

Daily thou wallowest in a sea of wine.

Earth, air, and ocean, join their ample store,

To cram thy maw, that ceaseless craves for more;

And, worse than beast! to raise thy deaden’d gust,

In nature’s spite thou satest thy monstrous lust.

Black list of crimes! but not enough to fill

Poggio, thy ample register of ill.

Like some black viper, whose pestiferous breath

Spreads through the ambient air the seeds of death,

Obscure and still thou wind’st thy crooked way,

And unsuspecting virtue falls thy prey.[236]

The publication of this poem again roused the vindictive spirit of Poggio, who retorted the acrimony of his adversary in a second invective, in which he accused him of the basest ingratitude to those who had treated him with the most distinguished kindness. Amongst these he particularly enumerated Niccolo Niccoli, Ambrogio Traversari, Carlo and Leonardo Aretino, Francesco Barbaro, Guarino Veronese, and several others, all of whom, he asserted, being disgusted by the petulance and scandalous immorality of Filelfo, had found themselves compelled to withdraw from him their countenance and support. Warmed by his subject, Poggio concluded this philippic with the following impassioned burst of scurrility. “Thou stinking he-goat! thou horned monster! thou malevolent detracter! thou father of lies and author of discord! May the divine vengeance destroy thee as an enemy of the virtuous, a parricide who endeavourest to ruin the wise and good by lies and slanders, and the most false and foul imputations. If thou must be contumelious, write thy satires against the suitors of thy wife—discharge the putridity of thy stomach upon those who adorn thy forehead with horns.”

Such was the style in which Poggio and Filelfo, two of the most learned men of their age, conducted their disputes. In their mutual accusations, so evidently do they aim at exhausting every topic of obloquy, without the slightest regard to veracity, that it is impossible for the acutest judgment, by the most careful examination of the odious mass of their allegations, to distinguish truth from falsehood. Thus does their acrimony defeat its own purpose: for who will give credit to those, who, in the heat of altercation, set decency at defiance; and forgetting what is due to their own dignity, concentrate all their powers in an endeavour to overwhelm their adversary by virulent and foul abuse? It may, however, be observed, that in this unmanly warfare Filelfo had the advantage, in consequence of his superior sagacity in the choice of his weapons. In these encounters, a prose invective is like a ponderous mace, the unmanageable weight of which is the best security of him at whom the blow is aimed. But he who annoys his antagonist by poetic effusions, assails him with an instrument, which affords full scope for the exercise of the most consummate dexterity. The effect of abusive attacks against character or talents upon him who is the subject of obloquy, is generally proportionate to the reception which those attacks experience from the public. And it is obvious to remark, that a dilated oration is almost uniformly wearisome to the reader, and few of its passages are remembered after its perusal; but the happy turn of an epigram, or the pointed numbers of a lengthened satire, captivate the fancy, strongly arrest the public attention, and make a durable impression on the memory. Thus do the lashes of poetic wit produce a poignant and a lasting smart; and truly unfortunate is he who, in consequence of the provocation of literary wrath, becomes

“The sad burthen of some merry song.”

CHAP. VII.

The Romans submit to the arms of the pontiff—Severities exercised upon the revolters by Vitelleschi—Eugenius concludes a peace with his enemies—He seizes a part of the Neapolitan territories—Proceedings of the council of Basil—Poggio purchases a villa, in Valdarno—He is exempted from the payment of taxes—His love of ancient sculptures and monuments of art—His dispute with Guarino Veronese—His marriage—His dialogue “An seni sit uxor ducenda”—His letter on his marriage to a learned ecclesiastic—Poggio accompanies the pontiff to Bologna—His letter to the cardinal of St. Angelo on the subject of his matrimonial felicity—His letter to the Marquis of Mantua—His reconciliation with Guarino Veronese—He publishes a collection of his letters—Death of Niccolo Niccoli—Poggio’s funeral oration on that occasion—Character of Niccolo Niccoli.

CHAP. VII.

Soon after the commencement of the late insurrection, which, as it has been already related, compelled Eugenius to provide for his safety by a precipitate flight, the Roman populace proceeded to the election of seven officers, to whom they delegated the most ample authority to enforce the preservation of the public peace, and to promote the general welfare. On the departure of the pontiff, these new magistrates found themselves masters of the whole of the city except the castle of St. Angelo. They immediately commenced the siege of this fortress; but their efforts to reduce it were vain. In the mean time the troops of Sforza made frequent incursions to the very gates of the city, spreading terror and devastation through the surrounding territory. The garrison of the castle also harrassed the citizens by daily sallies. Wearied and disheartened by the inconveniences resulting from this concurrence of external and internal warfare, the degenerate Romans, at the end of the fifth month of the enjoyment of their delusive liberty, surrendered their principal places of strength to Giovanni de’ Vitelleschi, bishop of Recanati, who took possession of them in the name of the pontiff.[237]

Though the standard of revolt no longer waved defiance against established government from the walls of Rome, and though the populace seemed to be desirous of atoning by the humblest submission for the outrages which they had lately committed, not only against the authority, but also against the person of their sovereign, Eugenius did not yet venture to revisit his capital. He wisely dreaded the effects of that agitation which usually accompanies the subsiding of the stormy sea of political contention. It was also the opinion of his counsellors, that it was necessary to punish the ringleaders of the late revolt with the utmost severity; and he perhaps thought that those princes act consistently with the dictates of prudence, who, whilst they personally interpose in the performance of beneficent and merciful actions, delegate to inferior agents the odious task of inflicting the sanguinary penalties of political vengeance. He accordingly instructed Vitelleschi to take such measures as he should deem necessary for the extinction of the latent sparks of rebellion. For the purposes of severity he could not have selected a fitter instrument than Vitelleschi, a man of haughty demeanour, a bigotted assertor of the rights of established power, whose promptitude in action was guided by the dictates of a cool head, and an obdurate heart. When the inhabitants of the pontifical states were informed that their destiny was committed to the disposal of this merciless ecclesiastic, they were struck dumb with fear;[238] and suspicion and terror spread a gloom over the whole of the papal dominions. No long space of time intervened before the threatening cloud burst upon the heads of the Colonnas and their partizans. Vitelleschi, personally assuming the command of a body of troops, laid siege to the fortresses which sheltered the despairing remnant of rebellion. In the course of a few weeks he took and sacked Castel Gandolfo, Sabello, Borghetto, Alba, Città Lanuvie, and Zagarola. All the inhabitants of these places who survived the carnage which occurred at their capture he carried in chains to Rome. On his return to the capital he proceeded to level with the ground the houses of the principal insurgents. Determined by still severer measures to strike terror into the enemies of the pontiff, he seized one of the ringleaders of the late revolt, and after publicly exposing him to the horrible torture of having his flesh torn with red hot pincers, he terminated his sufferings, by causing him to be hanged in the Campo di Fiore. At the same time, with a view of ingratiating himself with the populace, who dreaded the horrors of approaching famine, he imported into the city an abundant supply of provisions. By this alternate exercise of severity and conciliation, he at length completely re-established the authority of the pontiff in Rome.[239]

Fortune now began to dispense her favours to Eugenius with a liberal hand. In the spring of the year 1435, Fortebraccio, having received intelligence that Francesco Sforza had marched into Romagna to oppose Piccinino, who was preparing to invade that district at the head of a large body of troops, made a forced march, and surprising Leone Sforza, who had been left at Todi with an army of one thousand horse and five hundred foot, compelled him and the greater part of his forces to surrender at discretion. His triumph was, however, but of short duration. Whilst he was employed in the siege of Capo del Monte, he was attacked by Alessandro Sforza, and after an obstinate engagement, in which he received a mortal wound, his troops were entirely defeated. This event, which rid Eugenius of a formidable and implacable foe, prepared the way for a treaty of peace between him and his various enemies. The pontiff derived considerable advantages from the terms of this treaty, in consequence of which he regained possession of Imola and Bologna, and saw Romagna freed from the miseries of war.[240]

On the second of February in this year Joanna, queen of Naples, died, by her last will leaving the inheritance of her kingdom to Regnier of Anjou. The claim of Regnier was, however, disputed by Alfonso of Arragon, who, by virtue of the act of adoption which Joanna had annulled, asserted his title to the Neapolitan crown. Whilst the kingdom of Naples was divided and harrassed by these contending claimants, Eugenius ordered Vitelleschi to take possession of certain towns situated on its frontiers, the sovereignty of which had long been asserted, and occasionally enjoyed, by the Roman pontiffs. Vitelleschi executed this commission with his usual good fortune; and by the conquests which he made in the Neapolitan territories, still farther extended the power of his master.[241]

Whilst the flames of war which had been kindled against Eugenius by the machinations of the duke of Milan were thus gradually extinguished, the members of the council of Basil proceeded with considerable diligence in the execution of the difficult task which they had undertaken—the reformation of the church in its head and members. After settling some preliminary arrangements, with a view of facilitating the union of the Greek and Latin churches, and promoting the conversion of the Jews,[242] the assembled fathers proceeded to denounce against those priests who disgraced their profession by keeping concubines, the penalty of the forfeiture of their ecclesiastical revenues for the space of three months; and the further penalty of deprivation in case they continued, after solemn admonition, to persevere in their flagitious conduct.[243] In a very long and particular decree they laid down wholesome regulations for the decent solemnization of public worship; and strictly prohibited the continuance of those sacrilegious buffooneries which it had been customary in some countries to celebrate in the churches on Innocents’ day, or the feast of fools.[244] Eugenius perhaps felt no repugnance to give his assent to these articles of reformation. But he could not consider with complacency a decree of the ninth of June, whereby the payment of annates, and of the first fruits of benefices, into the pontifical treasury, was prohibited as an unlawful compliance with a simoniacal demand.[245] This ordinance he naturally detested, as tending materially to impair his revenues, and consequently to diminish his power. The spirit of hostility against the undue influence of the head of the church, which actuated the deliberations of the council, was further manifested by a decree of the twenty-fifth of March, 1436, whereby the pontiff was prohibited from bestowing the government of any province, city, or territory appertaining to the church, on any of his relatives, to the third generation inclusive.[246] These proceedings evidently proved, that whatever benefits the synod of Basil might extend to the general community of Christians, the successor of St. Peter was likely to sustain considerable loss in consequence of its labours; and Eugenius determined to seize the earliest opportunity of throwing off its yoke.[247]