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From The Life of Poggio Bracciolini, by The Rev. Wm. Shepherd, LL. D.; Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, Green and Longman; Liverpool; 1837; pp. 45-81.
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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.1 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, 48 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,2 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.3 Impelled by that prelate’s arguments and intreaties, John took the decisive step and set out for Constance, in which city he arrived on the 18th 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.4 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.5
Three principal objects demanded the utmost exertion of the wisdom of the council —s; the termination of the schism — the reformation of the church — and the extirpation of heresy. The pontiff earnestly wished to confine the attention 49 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.”6 But the unfortunate Bohemian soon found to his cost, that he 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 50 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 interest 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.
51The 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 proceed 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 52 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.7 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, 53 the father of Giovanni.8 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.9 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, 1415.10 His remains were deposited in the Dominican monastery, and a monument was erected to his memory, on which was engraved the following description, said to have been composed by his disciple Pietro Paulo Vergerio.11
54“Ante aram situs est D. Emanuel Crysoloras, equs 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 haberatur, die xv. Aprilis, MCCCCXV.”12
Poggio also, availing himself of this last opportunity of testifying his sense of the merits of Crysoloras, dedicated to his memory the following epitaph:
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 gently 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 56 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.14 His continuance in Germany was not however productive 57 of either 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.15 His hopes of preferment became more and more faint, as the power of his patrons was diminished by the intrigues of his 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. 58 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.16 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 59 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 he 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.17 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 60 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 me 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 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 he 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 61 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, 62 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 not 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 occurrences. Above the baths are a kind of galleries, on which the people stand who wish 63 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 64 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 the 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 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 65 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 the 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 that 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, 66 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 in 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 67 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 objects 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 68 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, 1415.18 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.19 Justly dreading the consequences of encountering the prejudices of the ecclesiastical dignitaries, whose morals and principles 69 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.20 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.21 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 of May, 1416.22 Poggio, who was present at this second trial of Jerome, gave the following interesting account of it to his friend Leonardo Aretino.23
“Soon after my return from Baden to Constance, the 70 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 later 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 the case. 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. 71 He was accordingly brought before the council. But when he was called upon to give 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 immortal, 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 72 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 73 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 some one 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, 74 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, and 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 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 instance 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 75 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 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 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 76 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 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 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 77 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 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 78 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 hi, 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 the flame. I must not omit a striking circumstance, 79 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 persevering 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.”24
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 80 the vices of the clergy.25 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 the man, who was held by the church as an object of unqualified abhorrence,26 awakened the fears of Leonardo Aretino on his behalf. Leonardo was 81 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.”27
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.
1 Platina, vol. i. p. 391.
2 The correct title of Zabarella, was that of cardinal of St. Como and St. Damien; but he is now generally known by the designation of cardinal of Florence.
3 Poggii Opera, p. 255.
4 Poggii Histor. Florent. p. 76
5 Leon. Aret. Epist. lib. iv. ep. iii.
6 L’Enfant‘s History of the Council of Constance, book i. sect. xxxix.
7 Hodius de Græcis illustribus, p. 14.
8 Hodius, p. 19.
9 Hodius, p. 15.
10 Ibid
11 Pietro Paulo Vegerio was a native of Capo d‘Istria, a town situated at the extremity of the Adriatic gulf, not far from Trieste. He was eminent for his knowledge of the civil law, and made considerable proficiency in the study of philosophy and the mathematics. Under the instruction of Manuel Crysoloras, he also attained a respectable knowledge of the Grecian language. He composed a treatise De moribus ingenuis, which was received, by the literary characters of his time with considerable applause; and at the request of the emperor Sigismund, he translated into Latin Arrian’s history of the expedition of Alexander the Great. In the execution of this translation, he purposely avoided the cultivation of elegance of style, through an apprehension, as he himself said, lest his royal reader should stand in need of the assistance of an interpreter. He testified his zeal for the honour of classical learning, by publishing an invective against Carlo Malatesta, who, in detestation of heathens and heathenism, had removed from the market place of Mantua, a statue of Virgil. In the latter period of his life he lost his reason, which however returned at intervals before his death, the date of which event is uncertain.
12 Hodius, p. 23.
13 Hodius, p. 23.
14 Poggii Opera, p. 297.
15 Leonardo Aretini Epist. lib. iv. ep. iv. This letter is erroneously dated January 10, 1415. Aretino wrote from Constance a description of his journey to that city, on the 29th of December, 1414. It is therefore evidently impossible that he could have returned to Italy, and have there received letters from Poggio within twelve days from that date. For 1415, we should certainly read 1416.
16 Leonardo Aretino, who does not appear to have possessed the slightest knowledge of Hebrew, in a very curious letter to Giovanni Cirignano, entered into a long train of argument, to prove the inutility of the study of that language. Nothing is more disgusting, than the propensity of men of narrow minds to undervalue those acquisitions in knowledge, to which they have not themselves attained; and which they consequently have not the means of appreciating. Excellent indeed is the precept of the Apulian bard,
This letter of Leonardo also shews the unhappy influence of religious bigotry and sacerdotal tyranny, in checking the progress of science. The most cogent argument which he advances, to prove the folly of spending time in the perusal of the Hebrew scriptures, is this, that St. Jerome having translated the Old Testament into Latin, whosoever presumes to study that book in the original, manifests a distrust of the fidelity of Jerome’s version.
17 In the letter which Poggio wrote from Baden to Niccolo Niccoli, he says, that he wrote to him from Constance on the 19th of February, 1416; and in another letter, addressed to Leonardo Aretino, he says, that the trial of Jerome of Prague took place a few days after his return to the council. As Jerome’s last hearing, to which Poggio evidently alludes, took place May 30th, 1416, the date of Poggio’s journey to Baden is fixed between the above mentioned periods, that is, in the spring of 1416.
18 L’Enfant’s History of the Council of Constance, vol. i. p. 167.
19 Ibid. p. 188.
20 L’Enfant’s History of the Council of Constance, vol. i. p. 204.
21 Ibid. p. 512.
22 Ibid. p. 584.
23 In the Fasciculus Rer. expet. et fugiend. It is erroneously asserted that the following letter was addressed to Niccolo Niccoli.
24 Poggii Opera, p. 301-305.
25 See a letter from Poggio to Alberto di Sarteano, which is preserved in the collection of Ambrogio Traversari’s epistles, edited by Mehus, (lib. xxv. ep. xxii.) in which he defends his strictures on the immoralities of the clergy; his dialogue on Hypocrisy, printed in the second volume of the Fasciculus Rerum expetend. et fugiend.; his treatise on Avarice; and many of his epistles.
26 The sentence passed by the council upon Jerome concluded with the following declaration. “Propter quæ eadem fancta synodus cundem Hieronymum palmitem putridum et aridum, in vite non manentem, foras mittendum decernit: ipsumque hæriticum, et in hæresim relapsum, excommunicatum, anathematizatum pronunciat et declaret atque damnat.”
27 Leon. Aret. Epist. lib. iv. ep. x.
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