Complete Works of D.H. Lawrence (Illustrated), page 909
Such a situation was madness. The crusade was never begun, for neither pope had any money. Each court incurred the usual expenses, with not half the income to meet these expenses. So both the popes tried squeezing the countries that remained faithful to them. But none of the countries was willing to be squeezed. There was no money for the popes.
They had recourse to other methods. The sale of indulgences began. On little scraps of parchment were written pardons for such and such sins. Priests and friars filled their wallets with these scraps of parchment, which were sent by pack-load to every bishopric, and set off to preach indulgences. Standing in some open place, or even in a church, they would preach to men and women how the Pope had power to pardon all sins: how he had written out on parchment such pardons; and now all good Christians were called upon to purchase a pardon which would wipe out for ever from the Judgment Book any sin that had been committed. Small sins cost small sums, greater sins cost greater sums.
When Urban died a new Italian pope was elected, Boniface ix. When Clement died, a Spaniard, Peter de Luna, was elected Benedict XIII. But France did not like a Spanish pope at Avignon, so he was blockaded in his palace by Marshal Boucicault and starved into surrender. He was kept in prison for five years by the French before he escaped.
The Schism was now becoming a real nuisance. All churchmen wished to end it. A great Council of the Church was called at Pisa in 1409, and though it decided nothing, yet now a new ecclesiastical power arose, a power greater than the Pope himself. This was the council of all great churchmen, called the Great Council. The Great Council claimed the power even to depose a pope. It was therefore much dreaded by the later popes, who were kept a little in check by their fear.
Meanwhile new heresies had arisen. About 1380 John Wycliffe translated the Bible into English and began to teach the real meaning of the Scriptures. He denounced the wickedness of the clergy and attacked the authority of the Pope. Many followers came to him, and they got the name of Lollards. But the Lollards were moving spirits in Wat Tyler’s rebellion, so the English Government began to attack them. Wycliffe’s bones were burned at Lutterworth, in Leicestershire, in 1428, and his ashes scattered on the river, so that the spirit of such a heretic should never find its body at the Resurrection.
His teachings, however, spread to the Continent. Thousands of English students went to France to hear the great teacher Abelard. Many wandered on from monastery to monastery, university to university. So they carried the Lollard or Wycliffe writings with them, and the new doctrines spread.
One of the greatest disciples of Wycliffe was the Bohemian, John Huss. Huss was the son of prosperous peasants, who had given him a good education. He entered the Church, became a priest. But he was very clever. He took his Master of Arts degree in 1396, and became a teacher in the university and a preacher in his town. Soon he was the most honoured teacher in the university and the most famous preacher in Prague. The chapel where he preached was called Bethlehem. There the people flocked to hear him, for he was a passionate, brave man. He told his people that Christ was the Head of the Church, not the Pope, and that it was Christ’s teaching they must follow. He also told them that the sale of indulgences was a scandalous money-making trick. But this was not enough to make him a heretic. However, the bishops were furious.
At this time Europe was making a determined effort to end the Schism. The two popes had now become three, Gregory XII., Benedict XIII., and Pope John XXIII. The Emperor Sigismund demanded that another General Council should be called. The free imperial city of Constance was chosen for the meeting-place.
In October 1414 the members of the Council began to arrive. The beautiful little city that stands where the Rhine runs out through low banks from Lake Constance had never seen anything so brilliant as this gathering. Pope John opened the Council in November. But it was not till Christmas Eve that Sigismund arrived. His boats, flickering with gay lights, came sailing across the lake in the wintry darkness. At two hours after midnight the Emperor with his brilliant retinue landed at Constance, and marched to the palace, torches flaming everywhere. On Christmas day Pope John preached in the cathedral to a vast number of townsfolk, nobles, doctors, cardinals, whilst the Emperor read the lessons from the Gospel — ‘ There went out a decree from Caesar Augustus — ’
The Council met for three purposes: to end the Schism, to reform abuses in the Church, to extirpate heresy. For the last purpose, John Huss was summoned to Constance. He received his summons when he was in Prague, and his heart sank. He felt he would never return. His people clamoured round him, saying he should not go. But then the Emperor Sigismund promised a safe-conduct. So Huss began to put his affairs in order. He still felt he would not return.
At last he set off across South Germany, and arrived in Constance. He had received the Emperor’s safe-conduct, but was none the less kept fast in prison. In the spring he was brought out for trial for heresy.
They could prove nothing against him. But they wanted to make him say he had erred, and he refused, for he felt he had done only what was right. And so they condemned him to be burned. On 6 July 1415 the noble- minded Huss was burned in the market-place of Constance. The Emperor Sigismund stood looking on, remarking that the safe-conduct which he had given held good only for tne journey, he had not meant it to protect the heretic from just condemnation in Constance.
Next year, in May 1416, they burned Jerome of Prague, the follower of Huss, also in Constance. An eye-witness writes: ‘ Both met their death with a constant mind, and hastened to the fire as if invited to a feast, uttering no sound that could reveal their agony. When they began to burn they sang a hymn, which the flame and the crackling of the fire could scarcely prevent.’
The Council sat on. It kept Pope John prisoner, then charged him with many crimes. He was deposed from the papacy, and ended his days peacefully as a cardinal. The old Pope Gregory XII. resigned, and died in 1417. But the Spaniard, Benedict XIII., refused all persuasion. He insisted that he was still Pope, and fortified himself in his rock-fortress on his own estate. The Council, however, declared he was no longer Pope, and men decided to take no further notice of him. At last, in 1417, the Roman nobleman, Cardinal Colonna, was elected Pope, and became Martin v.
Thus the Schism was ended. But the power of the popes was also finished. They were no longer absolute — they might be deposed by a General Council. They no longer claimed universal power over Europe, but remained in Italy, and took part in Italian politics rather than in European.
The Bohemians, however, were up in arms after the burning of Huss. The Czechs determined not to submit to Sigismund, who had burned their leader so treacherously. Armed with their deadly scythes, or ‘ flails,’ and led by the famous blind general, Ziska, they rose in a revolt which shook Europe. Crusades were preached against them. Henry, Bishop of Winchester, came to take part in the Holy War against the Hussites. For years the fighting went on. Through long practice the peasants became very fierce and expert. They were hard, vindictive veterans. They could give twenty or thirty strokes with their terrible flail in a minute, and each stroke was enough to cut a man down. They hated the Emperor’s men and the Pope’s men with a perfect hatred, branding their prisoners with a cross upon the forehead. Then the imperialists took to branding a cup on the forehead of any captured Hussite, because the Bohemians demanded to drink of the sacramental wine at the Communion Supper, whereas the Catholics allowed only the bread to the communicant.
Ziska died in 1424. In 1431 Sigismund invaded Bohemia with a great army, but was defeated because his German peasant soldiery sympathised with the Hussites and would not fight for him. So the war dragged on, till at last the Pope invited the Bohemians to send representatives to the Council of Basle, to patch things up. This was done, and in 1434 Sigismund was accepted King of Bohemia, and the Hussites received liberty of worship. They alone, of all the catholic nations, were allowed to partake of the sacred wine, as well as of the wafer, at Communion. It was the first victory against the Church.
In Italy the popes had lost their sacred power. When Urban vi. sent two legates to excommunicate the Tyrant Bernabd Visconti at Milan, Bernab6 received the legates and rode with them to the bridge over the river Naviglio. There he took out the papal Bulls of Excommunication, and looking at the legates, asked them whether they preferred to eat or to drink. The legates turned pale, for the river was rushing swiftly below. They looked at the dangerous flood, and at the tough parchment of the papal Bulls. Then they said faintly they preferred to eat. And Bernabd made them eat the Bulls they had brought. What did he care for excommunication!
The Church was not reformed. Popes and cardinals were more rich, lavish, and openly wicked than ever they had been. Reformers rose up in Italy, preaching a purer life. The greatest of these preachers was Savonarola. In 1490 Lorenzo the Magnificent, hearing of the fame of this preaching friar, invited him to Florence to add to the renown of the city. Savonarola came. He was a swarthy, narrow-browed, hulking friar, haggard with fasting so that his great bones showed and his dark eyes burned. His voice was weak, and his movements were clumsy and ugly.
Yet he had a truly magnetic power over the people. They thronged in crowds to hear him. He preached in San Marco in Florence and then in the Duomo, the domed cathedral. He wished to purify the land from the flaunting gay wickedness he saw around him. Using strange, gruesome language, he pictured the horrors that would come on Italy as a judgment for her lusts and vices, all the ghastly plagues and burnings and death. He harshly denounced from his pulpit the Pope, the clergy, and even his patron Lorenzo di Medici.
Lorenzo had a gay and beautiful court in Florence, thronged with the most exceptional people. The Italians of the later Renaissance, having studied Latin and Greek, were fascinated with the beautiful old pagan myths, they became indifferent or careless of Christianity and its severe teaching. They loved beautiful, rich things, and delicious pleasures. Beauty, pleasure, knowledge, skill, these were their aim. So Savonarola, who wished all men to go in sackcloth and ashes, for fear of hell, abused the witty Lorenzo, and tried to work up the citizens against their tyrant, to restore the liberty of Florence. When Lorenzo was dying, in 1492, Savonarola was his confessor. The dark, fanatic monk bent over the dark, subtle Lorenzo, who was so wise in the wisdom of the world and the ages. Lorenzo confessed his sins and affirmed his ‘ perfect faith.’
‘ Wilt thou restore Florence to liberty, and to the enjoyment of her popular government as a free commonwealth? ‘ sternly said the fanatic friar. Lorenzo turned his dying face away, as if weary at this question, and said no more.
In 1494 Charles VIII. of France invaded Italy and the Medici fled from Florence. Savonarola had been prophesying that tyrants would flee before a deliverer. The people went wild, thinking the prophecy had come true. Savonarola, who was now Prior of the Dominican House of San Marco, swayed all Florence. The city was completely under his spell now the Medici were gone.
A strange change took place. After all the games and sports and carnivals of the Medici days, men became desperately religious. The city looked suddenly grey, for none wore bright clothes any more. Bands of men went about wringing their hands, lamenting their sins, and destroying sinful objects. Bands of children clothed in white patrolled the streets singing hymns, entering the palaces and smashing those statues they thought were immoral, slashing up the lovely pictures. These holy children assumed authority over the citizens, and none dared oppose them. For the followers of Savonarola, called the Weepers or Snivellers, were masters of the town.
Then Jesus Christ was proclaimed King of Florence, and the citizens went round crying loudly ‘ Viva Cristo! Viva Cristo! ‘ — Long live Christ! When carnival came, the time for wild festivity, a great Bonfire of Vanities was arranged. Savonarola’s followers, the Weepers, marched in solemn procession through the streets, and the Innocents, the children, made their rounds of inspection. People brought their silks and ornaments, their books of stories such as the Decameron, and their books of profane poetry, their fans, perfumes, mirrors, statues, statuettes, the classic books supposed to be immoral, and some priceless pictures. Sandro Botticelli, an old, lame man now, threw on the heap in the public square many of his drawings and paintings — and then, to loud chanting, the whole pile of worldly treasures was burned, many exquisite things that could never be replaced.
Meanwhile Savonarola’s preaching became more and more wild, the city was going mad in intense religious excitement. Savonarola prophesied in the pulpit, a worn, hectic, strange figure. He listened to an epileptic monk in his convent, asking the poor epileptic, whom he supposed to be inspired, for advice. And then he told the people the real reign of Christ was at hand, that angels came down and told him so.
Alexander vi., the great but wicked Borgia pope, tried to lure Savonarola to Rome. He did not succeed, so he suspended the friar from preaching. Savonarola was silent for a time, but in 1496 he preached his Lent sermons, denouncing the wickedness of the Pope and clergy, threatening an end, and promising strange, stupendous miracles. The end of the world was near, the Saviour was to come to Florence. The Florentines were beside themselves with excitement, though sane men did not like this return to the dreadful superstitions of the early Middle Ages. The governors of the city, seeing their town out of hand and beside itself, turned against the fanatic friar. Taking advantage of this, the Pope excommunicated Savonarola, in 1497. For six months the friar ceased to preach, remaining in his convent. On Christmas Day he Celebrated Mass in San Marco, and in February preached once more. The populace were drunk with frenzied excitement. The Signory, that is, the Gonfaloniere of Justice and the Council of Eight Priors, suspended Savonarola from preaching.
Savonarola now wrote letters to the sovereigns of Europe, calling for a general council. In Florence he had continually spoken of miracles that were to come. His opponents, even his followers, demanded the miracle. A Franciscan monk offered to pass through flames, if Savonarola would do the same. Savonarola was still sensible enough to see that this was tempting Providence. But he had gone too far. His friends wildly believed in his power to perform a miracle: his enemies urged him to try. He agreed.
Tremendous preparations were made, the stacks ready to be ignited for the passage through the fire were built in the great square. On April 7, 1498, thousands of people assembled in the early morning, waiting to see the miracle. The nobles and rich had platforms and reserved places. Slowly, towards midday, the Franciscans approached from one direction, the Dominicans with Savonarola from another. The masses could hardly contain themselves.
They were going to see a miracle, a miracle like those recorded in the New Testament.
But then started a long quibbling. The Dominicans raised objections, saying the Franciscan monk’s clothing had been charmed by magic against fire, and he must change everything. This was done, and then the Franciscans began to raise objections, saying that Savonarola should not carry the Host in his hand as he passed through the fire, as this would be burning the body of the Lord. Savonarola would not agree. The argument went on before the wildly excited mob. The city authorities prepared to stop the ordeal. Then the bright sky clouded, thunder was heard, and a heavy shower fell, soaking the piles of wood. All was abandoned for the day.
The mob were furious. Next day they attacked San Marco. Savonarola and his two chief supporters, Fra Domenico and Fra Silvestro, the epileptic, were arrested. At the Pope’s command Savonarola, worn with excitement, fasting, anxiety, and frenzy, was tortured to make him confess his errors. Perhaps he cried out in his agony that he was no true prophet: how shall we know what he confessed in the secret torture-chamber? He and his two followers were declared heretics and schismatics, traitors to the state, and condemned to execution.
Three high gibbets were erected in the great square. ‘ From the Church militant and triumphant I separate thee,’ said the Bishop of Vasona as he unfrocked Savonarola. ‘ From the Church militant, yes; from the Church triumphant, no; that is not yours to do,’ answered the doomed Prior of San Marco’s.
So the three were hanged on the high gibbets, and fires were lighted under the bodies, as they hung in chains, to consume them. The people in the square, looking on the three crosses, were reminded of Calvary. But they did nothing to save their prophet. They hated him now.
Savonarola had tried to reform the abuses and wickedness of the Church, and to make life pure and moral, but he had gone the wrong way about it. Instead of making men understand with all their soul and with all their mind what they were doing, and what was good to do, he had gone back to the old methods. He talked as if he knew magical secrets, as if he had magical powers. He made the people believe he could Gpen heaven and earth. He filled them with a wicked madness of destruction, and an ugly lust for exciting events. He set them craving for supernatural powers and supernatural scenes. They ceased to be human men and women. Under the spell of Savonarola they were like frenzied demons. Truth, beauty, happiness, wisdom, these meant nothing to such fanatics. They wanted magical violence and wonderful horrors. They were greedy for pains and penalties and severities, instead of for pleasures and delights such as the Borgia pope lusted for.
And so Savonarola’s great movement was felt only as a shock, horrifying Italy and yet further weakening the old order. Savonarola, the last, almost degenerate representative of the Dark Age of Faith, perished and was detested and despised as a fraud.
Chapter XIII. The Renaissance
Perhaps the most wonderful century in all our Europe’s two thousand years is the fifteenth century. Then lived the greatest painters, great poets, great architects, sculptors, scientists and men of learning, such as had not been seen before. Then men were alert and keen, full of enthusiasm, full of imagination, full of life.
