“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.