Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio, known more simply as Caravaggio (1571–1610), was the greatest and most influential painter of the Baroque style. He was also a quick-tempered Bohemian who was often jailed for brawling and was forced to flee from the law and his enemies, escaping to Naples, Malta, and Sicily at various times. His "travels" helped to spread his extraordinary style, which was soon imitated across Europe.
Caravaggio infused his work with more gritty naturalism than any previous artist, hiring common people as models for saints and apostles, which shocked many of his contemporaries. He dramatized his religious scenes by throwing a diagonal light across his subjects, highlighting some of their features (to emphasize certain emotions and actions) and leaving the rest in shadow.
Caravaggio's lighting technique is called tenebrism, from the Italian word tenebroso, which means "gloomy" or "murky." His paintings recount climactic moments while powerfully suggesting the events that precede and follow them.
Caravaggio created his dramatic lighting effects by letting natural light stream through a high window or with a highly placed lamp that threw a beam down onto his subjects. This technique, known as cellar lighting, yields dramatic effects if the artist positions his models well.
In Calling of Saint Matthew (1599–1600; created for the Contarelli Chapel), the cellar light slashes across the back wall and illuminates the faces of some of the men crowded around a wooden table where Matthew counts his money. Three of Matthew's companions regard Jesus, who has just entered and stands in the shadows. The cellar lighting streaming through the window almost traces the line of Jesus' index finger, which points at the tax collector Matthew, who's about to change jobs. But the future apostle resists, avoiding Jesus' eyes and staring stubbornly at the stack of coins on the table. The painting illustrates the tug-of-war going on inside Matthew. The tension between light and dark, between pointing fingers and gazing eyes staring in opposite directions, heightens the drama to the breaking point.
Notice that despite Matthew's reluctance to sign on, Jesus' feet are already turned toward the exit and the future. Caravaggio was the first to depict a single tense moment and let the tension stretch the moment backward and forward in time.
To help break the barrier between a painting and the viewer, Caravaggio and other Baroque painters placed highly illusionistic objects — a bed, a copper bowl, someone's foot — at the bottom edge of their paintings so that the objects appear to project into the viewer's space. You feel that you can touch these objects, so you become more involved in the painting.
The following sections highlight artists who were influenced by Caravaggio.
Orazio Gentileschi: Baroque's gentle side, more or less
Orazio Gentileschi (1563–1639) was the first of Caravaggio's many followers. Gentileschi emphasized realism like Caravaggio and placed his subjects close to the viewer in a stop-action moment as in his The Lute Player (1610). In this sensitively rendered painting, a female lute player, illuminated by Caravaggio's cellar lighting, gently strums her instrument. It's a fine work, but there's no tension and no stirring sensuality as in Caravaggio's The Musicians (1595–1596) and The Lute Player (1595–1596). The stop-action in the Gentileschi painting is truly stopped. The frozen moment doesn't pull us in multiple directions as in a Caravaggio painting. One of Gentileschi's most moving works is his Madonna with Child in the Gallery Borghese in Rome. The tender warmth in the mother's face as she gazes at her child is magnified by the lighting.
Shadow and light dramas: Artemisia Gentileschi
Artemisia Gentileschi (1593–c. 1652) wasn't the only female artist in the Baroque period, but she is one of the few to paint historical and religious paintings. Most other female artists were pigeonholed into portrait, still life, and devotional paintings.
Among Artemisia's greatest works are Susanna and the Elders (1610), Judith Slays Holofernes (1620), and Lucretia (1621). Like the heroines in Lucretia and Susanna and the Elders, Artemisia was raped. Her personal experience resonates in these works. Like her father Orazio and Caravaggio, Artemisia placed her figures intimately close to the viewer.
19.5.08
Declaring Independence for America
Starting in 1763, England and her American colonies began to irritate each other almost incessantly. Once blood was spilled at Lexington and Concord, war became inevitable, even though there were some efforts on both sides to avoid it. Despite the fact that fighting had actually started, in 1776 there were many in the Continental Congress, and throughout the colonies, who were still not all that keen on breaking away completely from Britain. The radicals who were ready for a break needed a spark to light a fire under those who were still reluctant to act. They got two sparks.
Sparking an interest
The first motivator was a political blunder by the English government. The Brits needed more fighters, but English citizens did not fall all over themselves trying to sign up, since being an English soldier often meant brutal treatment, poor pay and food, and the chance someone might kill you.
So British officials hired the services of the soldiers who worked for a half-dozen German princes. Eventually, they rented about 30,000 of these soldiers, called "Hessians," after the principality of Hesse-Kassal, where many of them came from.
The Americans were outraged at this. It was one thing for the mother country and her daughters to fight, but it was a real affront for Mom to go out and hire foreigners to do her killing for her. (Eventually, about 12,000 Hessians deserted and remained in America after the war as citizens of the new country.)
The second spark came from the pen of a 38-year-old tomato-faced Englishman with a big nose. Thomas Paine arrived in the colonies in November 1774. He had been a seaman, a schoolmaster, a corset maker, and a customs officer, and wasn't too successful at any of these occupations. With the help of Benjamin Franklin, Paine got a job as editor of a Philadelphia magazine.
On Jan. 10, 1776, Paine anonymously published a little pamphlet in which he set forth his views on the need for American independence from England. He called it "Common Sense."
It was straightforward, clear, and simple in its prose. Basically, it said the king was a brute, with no reasonable mandate to rule in England, let alone America; that England was a leech feeding off the back of American enterprise; and that it was time for the colonies to stand up on their own and become a beacon of freedom for the world.
The pamphlet electrified the country. It sold 120,000 copies within a few months, and eventually sold a staggering 500,000 copies, or one for every five people in America, including slaves. (Paine never made a dime from it, having patriotically signed over royalties to Congress.) It was read by soldiers and politicians alike, and it shifted the emphasis of the fight to a struggle for total independence, and not just for a new relationship with England.
Writing history
On June 7, 1776, Congress began to deal with the issue in earnest. A delegate from Virginia, Richard Henry Lee, prepared a resolution that the colonies "are, and of a right ought to be, free and independent states." A few days later, the representatives appointed a committee of five to draft a formal declaration backing Lee's resolution, just in case Congress decided to adopt it.
The committee consisted of Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, a Connecticut lawyer named Roger Sherman, a New York iron mine owner named Robert Livingston, and a 33-year-old red-haired lawyer from Virginia named Thomas Jefferson. (The committee got on well enough, although Sherman apparently had a habit of picking his teeth, which provoked Franklin into warning that if he didn't stop it, Franklin would play his harmonica.)
Jefferson was selected to be the chief writer. Why? As Adams explained it to him when Jefferson tried to decline, "Reason first: You are a Virginian, and a Virginian ought to appear at the head of this business. Reason second: I am obnoxious, suspect, and unpopular. You are very much otherwise. Reason third: You can write 10 times better than I can." "Well," replied Jefferson, "if you are determined, I will do as well as I can."
Jefferson set to work at a portable desk he had designed himself, and a few weeks later produced a document that has come to be regarded as one of the most eloquent political statements in human history. True, he exaggerated some of the grievances the colonists had against the king. True, he rather hypocritically declared that "all men are created equal," ignoring the fact that he and hundreds of other Americans owned slaves, whom they certainly did not regard as having been created equal.
Overall though, it was a magnificent document that set forth all the reasons America wanted to go its own way — and why all people who wanted to do the same thing should be allowed to do so. A bit of tinkering by Franklin and the document was presented to Congress on June 28.
At the demand of some Southern representatives, a section blaming the king for American slavery was taken out. Then, on July 2, Congress adopted the resolution submitted by Lee. "The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch [instant of time] in the history of America," predicted John Adams. He missed it by two days, because America has chosen to remember July 4 instead. That's the day Congress formally adopted the Declaration of Independence, or as one member put it, "Mr. Jefferson's explanation of Mr. Lee's resolution."
With Independence declared, Congress now had to find a substitute form of government. Starting in August 1776, and continuing into 1777, members finally came up with something they called the Articles of Confederation. Basically, it called for a weak central government with a virtually powerless president and congress. Most powers to do key things, such as impose taxes, were left to the states. Even so, it took the states until 1781 to finish ratifying the articles, so reluctant were they to give up any of their power. It was a poor excuse for a new government, but it was a start. In the meantime, the new country was looking for a few foreign friends.
Sparking an interest
The first motivator was a political blunder by the English government. The Brits needed more fighters, but English citizens did not fall all over themselves trying to sign up, since being an English soldier often meant brutal treatment, poor pay and food, and the chance someone might kill you.
So British officials hired the services of the soldiers who worked for a half-dozen German princes. Eventually, they rented about 30,000 of these soldiers, called "Hessians," after the principality of Hesse-Kassal, where many of them came from.
The Americans were outraged at this. It was one thing for the mother country and her daughters to fight, but it was a real affront for Mom to go out and hire foreigners to do her killing for her. (Eventually, about 12,000 Hessians deserted and remained in America after the war as citizens of the new country.)
The second spark came from the pen of a 38-year-old tomato-faced Englishman with a big nose. Thomas Paine arrived in the colonies in November 1774. He had been a seaman, a schoolmaster, a corset maker, and a customs officer, and wasn't too successful at any of these occupations. With the help of Benjamin Franklin, Paine got a job as editor of a Philadelphia magazine.
On Jan. 10, 1776, Paine anonymously published a little pamphlet in which he set forth his views on the need for American independence from England. He called it "Common Sense."
It was straightforward, clear, and simple in its prose. Basically, it said the king was a brute, with no reasonable mandate to rule in England, let alone America; that England was a leech feeding off the back of American enterprise; and that it was time for the colonies to stand up on their own and become a beacon of freedom for the world.
The pamphlet electrified the country. It sold 120,000 copies within a few months, and eventually sold a staggering 500,000 copies, or one for every five people in America, including slaves. (Paine never made a dime from it, having patriotically signed over royalties to Congress.) It was read by soldiers and politicians alike, and it shifted the emphasis of the fight to a struggle for total independence, and not just for a new relationship with England.
Writing history
On June 7, 1776, Congress began to deal with the issue in earnest. A delegate from Virginia, Richard Henry Lee, prepared a resolution that the colonies "are, and of a right ought to be, free and independent states." A few days later, the representatives appointed a committee of five to draft a formal declaration backing Lee's resolution, just in case Congress decided to adopt it.
The committee consisted of Benjamin Franklin, John Adams, a Connecticut lawyer named Roger Sherman, a New York iron mine owner named Robert Livingston, and a 33-year-old red-haired lawyer from Virginia named Thomas Jefferson. (The committee got on well enough, although Sherman apparently had a habit of picking his teeth, which provoked Franklin into warning that if he didn't stop it, Franklin would play his harmonica.)
Jefferson was selected to be the chief writer. Why? As Adams explained it to him when Jefferson tried to decline, "Reason first: You are a Virginian, and a Virginian ought to appear at the head of this business. Reason second: I am obnoxious, suspect, and unpopular. You are very much otherwise. Reason third: You can write 10 times better than I can." "Well," replied Jefferson, "if you are determined, I will do as well as I can."
Jefferson set to work at a portable desk he had designed himself, and a few weeks later produced a document that has come to be regarded as one of the most eloquent political statements in human history. True, he exaggerated some of the grievances the colonists had against the king. True, he rather hypocritically declared that "all men are created equal," ignoring the fact that he and hundreds of other Americans owned slaves, whom they certainly did not regard as having been created equal.
Overall though, it was a magnificent document that set forth all the reasons America wanted to go its own way — and why all people who wanted to do the same thing should be allowed to do so. A bit of tinkering by Franklin and the document was presented to Congress on June 28.
At the demand of some Southern representatives, a section blaming the king for American slavery was taken out. Then, on July 2, Congress adopted the resolution submitted by Lee. "The second day of July, 1776, will be the most memorable epoch [instant of time] in the history of America," predicted John Adams. He missed it by two days, because America has chosen to remember July 4 instead. That's the day Congress formally adopted the Declaration of Independence, or as one member put it, "Mr. Jefferson's explanation of Mr. Lee's resolution."
With Independence declared, Congress now had to find a substitute form of government. Starting in August 1776, and continuing into 1777, members finally came up with something they called the Articles of Confederation. Basically, it called for a weak central government with a virtually powerless president and congress. Most powers to do key things, such as impose taxes, were left to the states. Even so, it took the states until 1781 to finish ratifying the articles, so reluctant were they to give up any of their power. It was a poor excuse for a new government, but it was a start. In the meantime, the new country was looking for a few foreign friends.
18.5.08
King Phillip IV, Pope Clement V, and the Fall of the Knights Templar — Part II
King Phillip IV of France set his sights on the fabled riches of the Knights Templar. His aim was to destroy the Templar Order and confiscate all their treasuries and properties in France, but he had to achieve it legally. The one surefire way was to accuse them of crimes so heinous that, if proved, no one would dare come to their rescue. It was no good to simply accuse the Grand Master or a handful of leaders. It had to be all of them, and he had to find a way to make the charges stick. And he had to be quick about it, because battle-hardened Templar knights were already returning to France, partly because of tensions on Cyprus between the Templars and the island's king. Phillip needed no more knights to cope with.
King Phillip's audacious plan was to arrest every Templar in France, charge them with heresy, and exact immediate confessions from them by torture before Pope Clement V or anyone else could protest on their behalf. By making the charges religious in nature, Phillip would be seen not as an avaricious thief, but as a noble servant of God.
Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, had been called to Poitiers, France, for the purpose of discussing with the new pope a new crusade to retake the Holy Land. For almost two years, he shuttled back and forth between the pope and King Phillip, essentially stamping out various diplomatic fires, such as the proposal to merge all the military orders.
In June 1307, de Molay rode into Paris at the head of a column of his knights, with a dozen horses laden with gold and silver, to begin the financing of the new Crusade. For the next several months, Phillip treated the aging Grand Master with interest and diplomacy, and de Molay believed he and the Order were at a new turning point. He didn't know how right he was.
October 1307: An unlucky Friday the 13th
The end began at dawn on Friday, October 13, 1307. The sealed order to Phillip's bailiffs had gone out a full month before. It was accompanied by a personal letter from the king, filled with lofty prose about how heart-rending it was to be compelled to do his duty, while detailing frightening accusations against the Templars. The letter would have had an eye-popping effect on the king's men, and their secrecy was undoubtedly assured. The sealed arrest order was not to be opened until the appointed day.
At this time, France was the most populous nation of Europe, even including Russia. And it was no tiny country either; France took up more than 40,000 square miles, an enormous area to cover from the back of a horse. Yet Phillip IV managed to carry off a stunning piece of work. Hundreds of the king's men simultaneously opened letters all over the country ordering them to converge on every Templar castle, commandery, preceptory, farm, vineyard, or mill.
It was shockingly effective, instantly chopping off the head of the Order. Phillip obviously had a hit list of the most important knights to nab. Accounts differ wildly, but the most respected ones agree that 625 members of the Order were arrested in the first wave. These included the Grand Master; the Visitor-General; the Preceptors of Normandy, Cyprus, and Aquitaine; and the Templars' Royal Treasurer.
The arrested Templars, whose average age was 41, were put into isolation and immediately subjected to the gruesome tactics of medieval "interrogation" on the very first day of their arrest. The technique of the strapaddo was common. It involved binding the victim's wrists behind his back, passing the rope over a high beam, pulling him off of the ground, and suddenly dropping him, snapping his arms and dislocating his shoulders. Stretching the victim on the rack was another favored method. Perhaps the most horrible was coating the victim's feet in lard or oil, and then slowly roasting them over a flame. Subjected to these agonies, the overwhelming majority of the knights confessed to every charge that was put to them.
The confessions
Phillip's goal was to arrest all the Templars, subject them to torture immediately, and exact confessions from them on the very first day. He knew that the pope would be livid over his actions, and that Church officials would be wary of agreeing to the kinds of interrogations Phillip had in mind, so time was of the essence. He wanted to hand Clement V a stack of confessions so damning that the pope would lose his stomach for siding with the Order.
The pope reacted just as Phillip had planned. His outrage over the arrests turned to dread and resignation as the "evidence" was presented to him. Phillip leaned on Clement to issue papal arrest warrants all across Europe, which were largely ignored or skirted by other monarchs. Very few show trials went on outside of France, and there were no cases (outside of the tortured knights in France) of Templars who admitted to the charges of heresy.
In an outburst of courage and remorse, most of the arrested Templars subsequently recanted their confessions and proclaimed to Church officials that their statements were made under the pain of torture and threat of death. To intimidate the remaining Templars, Phillip ordered 54 of the knights to be burned at the stake in 1310, for the sin of recanting their confessions.
In 1312, Clement finally decided to end the situation at a council in Vienna. Just to make certain the decision went the way he intended, Phillip stationed his army on the outskirts of the city. The pliant pope officially dissolved the Order, without formally condemning it. All Templar possessions apart from the cash were handed over to the Knights Hospitaller, and many Templars who freely confessed were set free and assigned to other Orders. Those who did not confess were sent to the stake. Phillip, ever the cheap gangster, soothed his loss of the Templars' tangible assets by strong-arming a yearly fee from the Hospitallers to defray his costs of prosecuting the Templars.
King Phillip's audacious plan was to arrest every Templar in France, charge them with heresy, and exact immediate confessions from them by torture before Pope Clement V or anyone else could protest on their behalf. By making the charges religious in nature, Phillip would be seen not as an avaricious thief, but as a noble servant of God.
Jacques de Molay, Grand Master of the Knights Templar, had been called to Poitiers, France, for the purpose of discussing with the new pope a new crusade to retake the Holy Land. For almost two years, he shuttled back and forth between the pope and King Phillip, essentially stamping out various diplomatic fires, such as the proposal to merge all the military orders.
In June 1307, de Molay rode into Paris at the head of a column of his knights, with a dozen horses laden with gold and silver, to begin the financing of the new Crusade. For the next several months, Phillip treated the aging Grand Master with interest and diplomacy, and de Molay believed he and the Order were at a new turning point. He didn't know how right he was.
October 1307: An unlucky Friday the 13th
The end began at dawn on Friday, October 13, 1307. The sealed order to Phillip's bailiffs had gone out a full month before. It was accompanied by a personal letter from the king, filled with lofty prose about how heart-rending it was to be compelled to do his duty, while detailing frightening accusations against the Templars. The letter would have had an eye-popping effect on the king's men, and their secrecy was undoubtedly assured. The sealed arrest order was not to be opened until the appointed day.
At this time, France was the most populous nation of Europe, even including Russia. And it was no tiny country either; France took up more than 40,000 square miles, an enormous area to cover from the back of a horse. Yet Phillip IV managed to carry off a stunning piece of work. Hundreds of the king's men simultaneously opened letters all over the country ordering them to converge on every Templar castle, commandery, preceptory, farm, vineyard, or mill.
It was shockingly effective, instantly chopping off the head of the Order. Phillip obviously had a hit list of the most important knights to nab. Accounts differ wildly, but the most respected ones agree that 625 members of the Order were arrested in the first wave. These included the Grand Master; the Visitor-General; the Preceptors of Normandy, Cyprus, and Aquitaine; and the Templars' Royal Treasurer.
The arrested Templars, whose average age was 41, were put into isolation and immediately subjected to the gruesome tactics of medieval "interrogation" on the very first day of their arrest. The technique of the strapaddo was common. It involved binding the victim's wrists behind his back, passing the rope over a high beam, pulling him off of the ground, and suddenly dropping him, snapping his arms and dislocating his shoulders. Stretching the victim on the rack was another favored method. Perhaps the most horrible was coating the victim's feet in lard or oil, and then slowly roasting them over a flame. Subjected to these agonies, the overwhelming majority of the knights confessed to every charge that was put to them.
The confessions
Phillip's goal was to arrest all the Templars, subject them to torture immediately, and exact confessions from them on the very first day. He knew that the pope would be livid over his actions, and that Church officials would be wary of agreeing to the kinds of interrogations Phillip had in mind, so time was of the essence. He wanted to hand Clement V a stack of confessions so damning that the pope would lose his stomach for siding with the Order.
The pope reacted just as Phillip had planned. His outrage over the arrests turned to dread and resignation as the "evidence" was presented to him. Phillip leaned on Clement to issue papal arrest warrants all across Europe, which were largely ignored or skirted by other monarchs. Very few show trials went on outside of France, and there were no cases (outside of the tortured knights in France) of Templars who admitted to the charges of heresy.
In an outburst of courage and remorse, most of the arrested Templars subsequently recanted their confessions and proclaimed to Church officials that their statements were made under the pain of torture and threat of death. To intimidate the remaining Templars, Phillip ordered 54 of the knights to be burned at the stake in 1310, for the sin of recanting their confessions.
In 1312, Clement finally decided to end the situation at a council in Vienna. Just to make certain the decision went the way he intended, Phillip stationed his army on the outskirts of the city. The pliant pope officially dissolved the Order, without formally condemning it. All Templar possessions apart from the cash were handed over to the Knights Hospitaller, and many Templars who freely confessed were set free and assigned to other Orders. Those who did not confess were sent to the stake. Phillip, ever the cheap gangster, soothed his loss of the Templars' tangible assets by strong-arming a yearly fee from the Hospitallers to defray his costs of prosecuting the Templars.
King Phillip IV, Pope Clement V, and the Fall of the Knights Templar — Part I
The Crusades of the Knights Templar were failures, but their ultimate doom came from outside the Order — from the manipulation of church and state by a greedy French king.
King Phillip the Fair
King Phillip IV of France — nicknamed Phillip the Fair for his looks, not his ethics — was one of the most remarkable figures of the early 14th century, a king so forward-looking and modernistic that he seemed to have been born out of his time and place. Chicago in the 1930s should have been his time and place. The only difference between this guy and Al Capone was the pinstriped suit.
Kingship was the ultimate power trip in the Middle Ages, and all kings have had their little eccentricities. Phillip the Fair's eccentricity — in fact, his obsession — was money. In the course of his reign, one lousy decision after another was brought about by his mania for gold, and his belief that enough of it would make of him a great king and of France a great nation. Phillip's monumental avarice knew no bounds of decency or fear of consequence. It's true that he left the nation larger than he found it, but this wasn't through the usual route of conquest; he bought new towns and counties. He seemed to believe there was absolutely nothing that money couldn't buy. Phillip hid behind the skirt of the power of his royal position to trump up charges against any group in the land that seemed to have a little bit of green. It began with the Lombards.
The Lombards were Italian bankers living in France to do business there. The word was that Phillip had borrowed from them, heavily. Suddenly, the wealthiest among them had various charges brought against them that had them expelled from France. The king, of course, kept their goods and money. Finally, he had all the remaining Lombards expelled and swooped in to gather up their money, too.
Next, in 1306, he turned his sights on France's Jews, a group that few Christians were willing to risk their own lives to defend. Many of the Jewish moneylenders of France had done fairly well in the previous two centuries, and, of course, as with the Lombards, it was rumored that Phillip was personally in hock to them. Charging that they "dishonored Christian custom and behavior," he expelled them from France, stealing all their money and belongings.
Looking back, it seems obvious that Phillip's actions against the Lombards and the Jews were practice runs, simply to see if he could pull it off. By that time, he clearly had another organization in his sights, one with fabled wealth — enough gold, Phillip thought, to make even him feel secure. Phillip clearly had his eye on the Knights Templar.
Pope Clement V
Unfortunately for the Knights Templar, at the beginning of the 14th century, a papal disaster was brewing, a political and religious mess that no one could ever have foreseen. It would be the final blow, the one from which they would not recover. Catholics often refer to it as the Babylonian Captivity. Nowadays, it's usually called the Avignon Papacy or the Great Schism. Either way, an atom bomb by any other name still blows everything to bits.
King Phillip IV of France and his personal henchman Guillaume de Nogaret had been in severe conflict with the then-reigning pope, Boniface VIII. The pope had declared that the king of France had no right to tax Church property, and the money-hungry king Phillip had, obviously, disagreed. De Nogaret kidnapped an important French bishop, and the pope had come out swinging over it. He issued a papal bull proclaiming that kings must be subordinate to the Church, and that popes held ultimate authority over both spiritual and temporal matters on earth. To make sure they got the message, Boniface excommunicated Phillip and de Nogaret. Phillip answered his challenge by sending the brutal, devious, and bad-tempered de Nogaret at the head of an army to meet up with Italian allies and capture the pope. Boniface was, indeed, kidnapped and held for three days. After being beaten to a pulp, he was released; a month later, he died. The French king had proved just who was subordinate to whom, and he didn't mind a little papal blood on his hands. Pope Boniface's successor, Pope Benedict XI, lasted only a year in office — poisoned, it was said, by de Nogaret.
But there were diplomatic difficulties to suffer for killing two popes. Consequently, King Phillip decided it would be easier to just buy one. He began procuring cardinals, pulling strings behind the scenes until the number of French cardinals in the Vatican's College of Cardinals was equal to the Italian ones. They then obligingly elected his handpicked candidate, Bertrand de Goth, making him Pope Clement V. The city of Rome was in turmoil, and the safety of the Vatican was in question. So, it didn't take much to convince the new French pope that his life would be in serious danger by living there. Clement obliged by staying in France, having his ceremony of investiture in Lyons. In 1309, he moved the Holy See to the city of Avignon (which was actually owned by the king of Sicily), right on Phillip's back doorstep.
Clement had everything Phillip wanted in a pope: He was puny, weak, new in the job, and owed everything to his French king. Now was the time for the boldest move of Phillip's reign — the arrest of the Knights Templar.
King Phillip the Fair
King Phillip IV of France — nicknamed Phillip the Fair for his looks, not his ethics — was one of the most remarkable figures of the early 14th century, a king so forward-looking and modernistic that he seemed to have been born out of his time and place. Chicago in the 1930s should have been his time and place. The only difference between this guy and Al Capone was the pinstriped suit.
Kingship was the ultimate power trip in the Middle Ages, and all kings have had their little eccentricities. Phillip the Fair's eccentricity — in fact, his obsession — was money. In the course of his reign, one lousy decision after another was brought about by his mania for gold, and his belief that enough of it would make of him a great king and of France a great nation. Phillip's monumental avarice knew no bounds of decency or fear of consequence. It's true that he left the nation larger than he found it, but this wasn't through the usual route of conquest; he bought new towns and counties. He seemed to believe there was absolutely nothing that money couldn't buy. Phillip hid behind the skirt of the power of his royal position to trump up charges against any group in the land that seemed to have a little bit of green. It began with the Lombards.
The Lombards were Italian bankers living in France to do business there. The word was that Phillip had borrowed from them, heavily. Suddenly, the wealthiest among them had various charges brought against them that had them expelled from France. The king, of course, kept their goods and money. Finally, he had all the remaining Lombards expelled and swooped in to gather up their money, too.
Next, in 1306, he turned his sights on France's Jews, a group that few Christians were willing to risk their own lives to defend. Many of the Jewish moneylenders of France had done fairly well in the previous two centuries, and, of course, as with the Lombards, it was rumored that Phillip was personally in hock to them. Charging that they "dishonored Christian custom and behavior," he expelled them from France, stealing all their money and belongings.
Looking back, it seems obvious that Phillip's actions against the Lombards and the Jews were practice runs, simply to see if he could pull it off. By that time, he clearly had another organization in his sights, one with fabled wealth — enough gold, Phillip thought, to make even him feel secure. Phillip clearly had his eye on the Knights Templar.
Pope Clement V
Unfortunately for the Knights Templar, at the beginning of the 14th century, a papal disaster was brewing, a political and religious mess that no one could ever have foreseen. It would be the final blow, the one from which they would not recover. Catholics often refer to it as the Babylonian Captivity. Nowadays, it's usually called the Avignon Papacy or the Great Schism. Either way, an atom bomb by any other name still blows everything to bits.
King Phillip IV of France and his personal henchman Guillaume de Nogaret had been in severe conflict with the then-reigning pope, Boniface VIII. The pope had declared that the king of France had no right to tax Church property, and the money-hungry king Phillip had, obviously, disagreed. De Nogaret kidnapped an important French bishop, and the pope had come out swinging over it. He issued a papal bull proclaiming that kings must be subordinate to the Church, and that popes held ultimate authority over both spiritual and temporal matters on earth. To make sure they got the message, Boniface excommunicated Phillip and de Nogaret. Phillip answered his challenge by sending the brutal, devious, and bad-tempered de Nogaret at the head of an army to meet up with Italian allies and capture the pope. Boniface was, indeed, kidnapped and held for three days. After being beaten to a pulp, he was released; a month later, he died. The French king had proved just who was subordinate to whom, and he didn't mind a little papal blood on his hands. Pope Boniface's successor, Pope Benedict XI, lasted only a year in office — poisoned, it was said, by de Nogaret.
But there were diplomatic difficulties to suffer for killing two popes. Consequently, King Phillip decided it would be easier to just buy one. He began procuring cardinals, pulling strings behind the scenes until the number of French cardinals in the Vatican's College of Cardinals was equal to the Italian ones. They then obligingly elected his handpicked candidate, Bertrand de Goth, making him Pope Clement V. The city of Rome was in turmoil, and the safety of the Vatican was in question. So, it didn't take much to convince the new French pope that his life would be in serious danger by living there. Clement obliged by staying in France, having his ceremony of investiture in Lyons. In 1309, he moved the Holy See to the city of Avignon (which was actually owned by the king of Sicily), right on Phillip's back doorstep.
Clement had everything Phillip wanted in a pope: He was puny, weak, new in the job, and owed everything to his French king. Now was the time for the boldest move of Phillip's reign — the arrest of the Knights Templar.
Visiting the Homeland with Pope John Paul II
The year 1979 was the 900th anniversary of the martyrdom of St. Stanislaus, and Pope John Paul II made it clear that he had every intention of returning to his native Poland (under Communist rule, at the time) to take part in the festivities honoring his predecessor as Archbishop of Krakow.
Polish authorities stood in the middle of a game of tug-of-war. On one side, the Vatican and Cardinal WyszyÒski were putting pressure on them to allow Pope John Paul II to visit Poland as part of the anniversary festivities, and on the other hand Moscow didn't want Pope John Paul II playing the part of a victorious warrior returning home.
What followed then were a series of blunders by the Polish government, which came out as distinct advantages for Pope John Paul II. The pope wanted to be in Poland on May 8, 1979 (for the Feast of St. Stanislaus). Authorities fought this, seeing in it too outward a connection between the circumstances of St. Stanislaus's standing up to the state and the papal visit. They were against his coming in May and suggested the trip be the following month. Trip organizers agreed, and what was to be a two-day visit to two cities became a nine-day visit to six cities. In addition, the new dates meant that Pope John Paul II would be in Poland for the Feast of Pentecost, the traditional "birthday" of the Church, when the Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles and empowered them to preach and teach in the name of Christ. The religious significance of that day was not lost on the people.
The next mistake on the part of the government was the offer to broadcast parts of the visit on national television. They did so for selfish reasons, hoping the ability for people to watch from their own living rooms would minimize the crowds. Not only was televising the visit ineffective in keeping the crowds away, but now the elderly and homebound were able to watch what they would never have had the chance to see, thanks to the government.
In the following sections, we look at the impact created by Pope John Paul in his pilgrimages to Poland.
The first papal visit as Pope John Paul II
In all, Pope John Paul II made eight trips (or pilgrimages, as he considered all of his apostolic journeys) to Poland. But the first visit was the one witnessed by the world and widely considered the one that began the eventual peaceful demise of Communist rule in Poland (as well as the eventual demise of the Soviet Union).
Pope John Paul II arrived in Warsaw on June 2, 1979. Warsaw had become a sea of people, as an estimated three million Poles turned out to be with the pope. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the route from the airport to the inner city just to catch a glimpse of Pope John Paul II.
During the open-air Mass in Victory Square that followed, Pope John Paul II told them he came to fulfill Pope Paul VI's wish to visit Poland as a pilgrim. He told them he was there to commemorate the 900th anniversary of the martyrdom of St. Stanislaus, who was killed for standing up in the face of civil authority for the truth (something the Poles did very well). As he stood under a 50-foot cross built for the outdoor celebration of Mass, he reminded the Polish people that they had often been called to give witness to the power of the cross in the life of a Christian, and that as much as past rulers and enemies in Poland's history had tried to eliminate Christianity, Jesus Christ cannot be taken out of history.
The following day, Pope John Paul II remembered his roots as a college chaplain and celebrated a Mass for university students before flying to the town of Gniezno to visit the relics of St. Adalbert, the first missionary to Poland back in the tenth century. The next day, he traveled to Jasna Gora, the "bright mountain," which was home to the Paulist monastery and the Polish national treasure of the icon of Our Lady of Czestochowa, followed by a meeting with the natives of the region and a meeting with the sick.
Returning to Krakow and Wadowice
The schedule of meetings with various groups of clergy, religious, and laity continued, until he flew to Krakow for an emotional homecoming. There, he stayed in his old rooms at the Archbishop's Palace, all the while being serenaded by crowds of teens and college students who stood beneath his window and urged him to join them in singing (which he did until past midnight).
Pope John Paul II retraced his steps as a child by making a pilgrimage to Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, named for a 17th-century governor of Krakow who built a series of chapels on the side of a mountain to resemble the shrines and chapels built in Jerusalem at the places Jesus Christ walked on the way to his death on Mount Calvary. Over the years, chapels were added that took into account the traditional lore of Mary's whereabouts during her son's Passion (suffering).
Following this trip to Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, Pope John Paul II returned to his hometown of Wadowice, where he was met by 30,000 people. Later, he traveled to Oswiecim, the site of the Auschwitz concentration camp, where he celebrated Mass and made a trip to the cell where, in 1941, the Polish Franciscan friar Maximilian Kolbe had voluntarily taken the place of another man and was killed as retribution for an escaped prisoner.
On the evening of June 8, he had an emotional meeting with the young people of Krakow. The high they were feeling during the pope's visit, combined with their own natural zeal and fervor, made the situation somewhat frightening: What if these young people took matters into their own hands and started to openly and violently revolt against the government? Pope John Paul II mixed humor and paternal advice and teaching to keep them calm and nonviolent.
The last day of the pope's visit was June 10, 1979, and it began with a Mass on the Krakow commons attended by a crowd of two to three million people.
Words do not do justice to the feelings of joy and happiness that the papal visit brought to the Polish people. Thousands of people opened their homes to strangers to give travelers places to sleep. Churches remained opened around the clock for prayers and the practical necessities of the pilgrims. Homes, storefronts, and huge apartment houses were decorated as if the Holy Father were going to inspect the decorations himself.
An estimated 13 million people saw Pope John Paul II in person, and he left them with the gift of hope. For the first time, they felt there was a real opportunity to change their lives through peaceful means. The sacrifices made by so many to travel to the different places where the Holy Father would be showed them how many they were in numbers compared to the government troops. Suddenly the Polish people realized how they outnumbered those who supposedly were in the majority and in charge of the country.
Polish authorities stood in the middle of a game of tug-of-war. On one side, the Vatican and Cardinal WyszyÒski were putting pressure on them to allow Pope John Paul II to visit Poland as part of the anniversary festivities, and on the other hand Moscow didn't want Pope John Paul II playing the part of a victorious warrior returning home.
What followed then were a series of blunders by the Polish government, which came out as distinct advantages for Pope John Paul II. The pope wanted to be in Poland on May 8, 1979 (for the Feast of St. Stanislaus). Authorities fought this, seeing in it too outward a connection between the circumstances of St. Stanislaus's standing up to the state and the papal visit. They were against his coming in May and suggested the trip be the following month. Trip organizers agreed, and what was to be a two-day visit to two cities became a nine-day visit to six cities. In addition, the new dates meant that Pope John Paul II would be in Poland for the Feast of Pentecost, the traditional "birthday" of the Church, when the Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles and empowered them to preach and teach in the name of Christ. The religious significance of that day was not lost on the people.
The next mistake on the part of the government was the offer to broadcast parts of the visit on national television. They did so for selfish reasons, hoping the ability for people to watch from their own living rooms would minimize the crowds. Not only was televising the visit ineffective in keeping the crowds away, but now the elderly and homebound were able to watch what they would never have had the chance to see, thanks to the government.
In the following sections, we look at the impact created by Pope John Paul in his pilgrimages to Poland.
The first papal visit as Pope John Paul II
In all, Pope John Paul II made eight trips (or pilgrimages, as he considered all of his apostolic journeys) to Poland. But the first visit was the one witnessed by the world and widely considered the one that began the eventual peaceful demise of Communist rule in Poland (as well as the eventual demise of the Soviet Union).
Pope John Paul II arrived in Warsaw on June 2, 1979. Warsaw had become a sea of people, as an estimated three million Poles turned out to be with the pope. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the route from the airport to the inner city just to catch a glimpse of Pope John Paul II.
During the open-air Mass in Victory Square that followed, Pope John Paul II told them he came to fulfill Pope Paul VI's wish to visit Poland as a pilgrim. He told them he was there to commemorate the 900th anniversary of the martyrdom of St. Stanislaus, who was killed for standing up in the face of civil authority for the truth (something the Poles did very well). As he stood under a 50-foot cross built for the outdoor celebration of Mass, he reminded the Polish people that they had often been called to give witness to the power of the cross in the life of a Christian, and that as much as past rulers and enemies in Poland's history had tried to eliminate Christianity, Jesus Christ cannot be taken out of history.
The following day, Pope John Paul II remembered his roots as a college chaplain and celebrated a Mass for university students before flying to the town of Gniezno to visit the relics of St. Adalbert, the first missionary to Poland back in the tenth century. The next day, he traveled to Jasna Gora, the "bright mountain," which was home to the Paulist monastery and the Polish national treasure of the icon of Our Lady of Czestochowa, followed by a meeting with the natives of the region and a meeting with the sick.
Returning to Krakow and Wadowice
The schedule of meetings with various groups of clergy, religious, and laity continued, until he flew to Krakow for an emotional homecoming. There, he stayed in his old rooms at the Archbishop's Palace, all the while being serenaded by crowds of teens and college students who stood beneath his window and urged him to join them in singing (which he did until past midnight).
Pope John Paul II retraced his steps as a child by making a pilgrimage to Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, named for a 17th-century governor of Krakow who built a series of chapels on the side of a mountain to resemble the shrines and chapels built in Jerusalem at the places Jesus Christ walked on the way to his death on Mount Calvary. Over the years, chapels were added that took into account the traditional lore of Mary's whereabouts during her son's Passion (suffering).
Following this trip to Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, Pope John Paul II returned to his hometown of Wadowice, where he was met by 30,000 people. Later, he traveled to Oswiecim, the site of the Auschwitz concentration camp, where he celebrated Mass and made a trip to the cell where, in 1941, the Polish Franciscan friar Maximilian Kolbe had voluntarily taken the place of another man and was killed as retribution for an escaped prisoner.
On the evening of June 8, he had an emotional meeting with the young people of Krakow. The high they were feeling during the pope's visit, combined with their own natural zeal and fervor, made the situation somewhat frightening: What if these young people took matters into their own hands and started to openly and violently revolt against the government? Pope John Paul II mixed humor and paternal advice and teaching to keep them calm and nonviolent.
The last day of the pope's visit was June 10, 1979, and it began with a Mass on the Krakow commons attended by a crowd of two to three million people.
Words do not do justice to the feelings of joy and happiness that the papal visit brought to the Polish people. Thousands of people opened their homes to strangers to give travelers places to sleep. Churches remained opened around the clock for prayers and the practical necessities of the pilgrims. Homes, storefronts, and huge apartment houses were decorated as if the Holy Father were going to inspect the decorations himself.
An estimated 13 million people saw Pope John Paul II in person, and he left them with the gift of hope. For the first time, they felt there was a real opportunity to change their lives through peaceful means. The sacrifices made by so many to travel to the different places where the Holy Father would be showed them how many they were in numbers compared to the government troops. Suddenly the Polish people realized how they outnumbered those who supposedly were in the majority and in charge of the country.
Visiting the Homeland with Pope John Paul II
The year 1979 was the 900th anniversary of the martyrdom of St. Stanislaus, and Pope John Paul II made it clear that he had every intention of returning to his native Poland (under Communist rule, at the time) to take part in the festivities honoring his predecessor as Archbishop of Krakow.
Polish authorities stood in the middle of a game of tug-of-war. On one side, the Vatican and Cardinal WyszyÒski were putting pressure on them to allow Pope John Paul II to visit Poland as part of the anniversary festivities, and on the other hand Moscow didn't want Pope John Paul II playing the part of a victorious warrior returning home.
What followed then were a series of blunders by the Polish government, which came out as distinct advantages for Pope John Paul II. The pope wanted to be in Poland on May 8, 1979 (for the Feast of St. Stanislaus). Authorities fought this, seeing in it too outward a connection between the circumstances of St. Stanislaus's standing up to the state and the papal visit. They were against his coming in May and suggested the trip be the following month. Trip organizers agreed, and what was to be a two-day visit to two cities became a nine-day visit to six cities. In addition, the new dates meant that Pope John Paul II would be in Poland for the Feast of Pentecost, the traditional "birthday" of the Church, when the Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles and empowered them to preach and teach in the name of Christ. The religious significance of that day was not lost on the people.
The next mistake on the part of the government was the offer to broadcast parts of the visit on national television. They did so for selfish reasons, hoping the ability for people to watch from their own living rooms would minimize the crowds. Not only was televising the visit ineffective in keeping the crowds away, but now the elderly and homebound were able to watch what they would never have had the chance to see, thanks to the government.
In the following sections, we look at the impact created by Pope John Paul in his pilgrimages to Poland.
The first papal visit as Pope John Paul II
In all, Pope John Paul II made eight trips (or pilgrimages, as he considered all of his apostolic journeys) to Poland. But the first visit was the one witnessed by the world and widely considered the one that began the eventual peaceful demise of Communist rule in Poland (as well as the eventual demise of the Soviet Union).
Pope John Paul II arrived in Warsaw on June 2, 1979. Warsaw had become a sea of people, as an estimated three million Poles turned out to be with the pope. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the route from the airport to the inner city just to catch a glimpse of Pope John Paul II.
During the open-air Mass in Victory Square that followed, Pope John Paul II told them he came to fulfill Pope Paul VI's wish to visit Poland as a pilgrim. He told them he was there to commemorate the 900th anniversary of the martyrdom of St. Stanislaus, who was killed for standing up in the face of civil authority for the truth (something the Poles did very well). As he stood under a 50-foot cross built for the outdoor celebration of Mass, he reminded the Polish people that they had often been called to give witness to the power of the cross in the life of a Christian, and that as much as past rulers and enemies in Poland's history had tried to eliminate Christianity, Jesus Christ cannot be taken out of history.
The following day, Pope John Paul II remembered his roots as a college chaplain and celebrated a Mass for university students before flying to the town of Gniezno to visit the relics of St. Adalbert, the first missionary to Poland back in the tenth century. The next day, he traveled to Jasna Gora, the "bright mountain," which was home to the Paulist monastery and the Polish national treasure of the icon of Our Lady of Czestochowa, followed by a meeting with the natives of the region and a meeting with the sick.
Returning to Krakow and Wadowice
The schedule of meetings with various groups of clergy, religious, and laity continued, until he flew to Krakow for an emotional homecoming. There, he stayed in his old rooms at the Archbishop's Palace, all the while being serenaded by crowds of teens and college students who stood beneath his window and urged him to join them in singing (which he did until past midnight).
Pope John Paul II retraced his steps as a child by making a pilgrimage to Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, named for a 17th-century governor of Krakow who built a series of chapels on the side of a mountain to resemble the shrines and chapels built in Jerusalem at the places Jesus Christ walked on the way to his death on Mount Calvary. Over the years, chapels were added that took into account the traditional lore of Mary's whereabouts during her son's Passion (suffering).
Following this trip to Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, Pope John Paul II returned to his hometown of Wadowice, where he was met by 30,000 people. Later, he traveled to Oswiecim, the site of the Auschwitz concentration camp, where he celebrated Mass and made a trip to the cell where, in 1941, the Polish Franciscan friar Maximilian Kolbe had voluntarily taken the place of another man and was killed as retribution for an escaped prisoner.
On the evening of June 8, he had an emotional meeting with the young people of Krakow. The high they were feeling during the pope's visit, combined with their own natural zeal and fervor, made the situation somewhat frightening: What if these young people took matters into their own hands and started to openly and violently revolt against the government? Pope John Paul II mixed humor and paternal advice and teaching to keep them calm and nonviolent.
The last day of the pope's visit was June 10, 1979, and it began with a Mass on the Krakow commons attended by a crowd of two to three million people.
Words do not do justice to the feelings of joy and happiness that the papal visit brought to the Polish people. Thousands of people opened their homes to strangers to give travelers places to sleep. Churches remained opened around the clock for prayers and the practical necessities of the pilgrims. Homes, storefronts, and huge apartment houses were decorated as if the Holy Father were going to inspect the decorations himself.
An estimated 13 million people saw Pope John Paul II in person, and he left them with the gift of hope. For the first time, they felt there was a real opportunity to change their lives through peaceful means. The sacrifices made by so many to travel to the different places where the Holy Father would be showed them how many they were in numbers compared to the government troops. Suddenly the Polish people realized how they outnumbered those who supposedly were in the majority and in charge of the country.
Polish authorities stood in the middle of a game of tug-of-war. On one side, the Vatican and Cardinal WyszyÒski were putting pressure on them to allow Pope John Paul II to visit Poland as part of the anniversary festivities, and on the other hand Moscow didn't want Pope John Paul II playing the part of a victorious warrior returning home.
What followed then were a series of blunders by the Polish government, which came out as distinct advantages for Pope John Paul II. The pope wanted to be in Poland on May 8, 1979 (for the Feast of St. Stanislaus). Authorities fought this, seeing in it too outward a connection between the circumstances of St. Stanislaus's standing up to the state and the papal visit. They were against his coming in May and suggested the trip be the following month. Trip organizers agreed, and what was to be a two-day visit to two cities became a nine-day visit to six cities. In addition, the new dates meant that Pope John Paul II would be in Poland for the Feast of Pentecost, the traditional "birthday" of the Church, when the Holy Spirit descended upon the Apostles and empowered them to preach and teach in the name of Christ. The religious significance of that day was not lost on the people.
The next mistake on the part of the government was the offer to broadcast parts of the visit on national television. They did so for selfish reasons, hoping the ability for people to watch from their own living rooms would minimize the crowds. Not only was televising the visit ineffective in keeping the crowds away, but now the elderly and homebound were able to watch what they would never have had the chance to see, thanks to the government.
In the following sections, we look at the impact created by Pope John Paul in his pilgrimages to Poland.
The first papal visit as Pope John Paul II
In all, Pope John Paul II made eight trips (or pilgrimages, as he considered all of his apostolic journeys) to Poland. But the first visit was the one witnessed by the world and widely considered the one that began the eventual peaceful demise of Communist rule in Poland (as well as the eventual demise of the Soviet Union).
Pope John Paul II arrived in Warsaw on June 2, 1979. Warsaw had become a sea of people, as an estimated three million Poles turned out to be with the pope. Hundreds of thousands of people lined the route from the airport to the inner city just to catch a glimpse of Pope John Paul II.
During the open-air Mass in Victory Square that followed, Pope John Paul II told them he came to fulfill Pope Paul VI's wish to visit Poland as a pilgrim. He told them he was there to commemorate the 900th anniversary of the martyrdom of St. Stanislaus, who was killed for standing up in the face of civil authority for the truth (something the Poles did very well). As he stood under a 50-foot cross built for the outdoor celebration of Mass, he reminded the Polish people that they had often been called to give witness to the power of the cross in the life of a Christian, and that as much as past rulers and enemies in Poland's history had tried to eliminate Christianity, Jesus Christ cannot be taken out of history.
The following day, Pope John Paul II remembered his roots as a college chaplain and celebrated a Mass for university students before flying to the town of Gniezno to visit the relics of St. Adalbert, the first missionary to Poland back in the tenth century. The next day, he traveled to Jasna Gora, the "bright mountain," which was home to the Paulist monastery and the Polish national treasure of the icon of Our Lady of Czestochowa, followed by a meeting with the natives of the region and a meeting with the sick.
Returning to Krakow and Wadowice
The schedule of meetings with various groups of clergy, religious, and laity continued, until he flew to Krakow for an emotional homecoming. There, he stayed in his old rooms at the Archbishop's Palace, all the while being serenaded by crowds of teens and college students who stood beneath his window and urged him to join them in singing (which he did until past midnight).
Pope John Paul II retraced his steps as a child by making a pilgrimage to Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, named for a 17th-century governor of Krakow who built a series of chapels on the side of a mountain to resemble the shrines and chapels built in Jerusalem at the places Jesus Christ walked on the way to his death on Mount Calvary. Over the years, chapels were added that took into account the traditional lore of Mary's whereabouts during her son's Passion (suffering).
Following this trip to Kalwaria Zebrzydowska, Pope John Paul II returned to his hometown of Wadowice, where he was met by 30,000 people. Later, he traveled to Oswiecim, the site of the Auschwitz concentration camp, where he celebrated Mass and made a trip to the cell where, in 1941, the Polish Franciscan friar Maximilian Kolbe had voluntarily taken the place of another man and was killed as retribution for an escaped prisoner.
On the evening of June 8, he had an emotional meeting with the young people of Krakow. The high they were feeling during the pope's visit, combined with their own natural zeal and fervor, made the situation somewhat frightening: What if these young people took matters into their own hands and started to openly and violently revolt against the government? Pope John Paul II mixed humor and paternal advice and teaching to keep them calm and nonviolent.
The last day of the pope's visit was June 10, 1979, and it began with a Mass on the Krakow commons attended by a crowd of two to three million people.
Words do not do justice to the feelings of joy and happiness that the papal visit brought to the Polish people. Thousands of people opened their homes to strangers to give travelers places to sleep. Churches remained opened around the clock for prayers and the practical necessities of the pilgrims. Homes, storefronts, and huge apartment houses were decorated as if the Holy Father were going to inspect the decorations himself.
An estimated 13 million people saw Pope John Paul II in person, and he left them with the gift of hope. For the first time, they felt there was a real opportunity to change their lives through peaceful means. The sacrifices made by so many to travel to the different places where the Holy Father would be showed them how many they were in numbers compared to the government troops. Suddenly the Polish people realized how they outnumbered those who supposedly were in the majority and in charge of the country.
Napoleon: Being a Hero in a Troubled Nation
After military successes in Egypt, Napoleon was treated as a returning hero of mythic proportions in 1799. To the French people, he was Caesar and Alexander rolled into one. The streets were full of his admirers. The Council of Ancients (one of France's legislative bodies) gave him a standing ovation when he appeared before them.
Behind all the public show was a floundering government. Various political factions, ranging from radical Revolutionaries on one side to royalists on the other, were vying for power. Military success in the field, most especially by General André Masséna, had at least temporarily stymied the efforts of the Second Coalition (the alliance of Austria, Russia, and England to overthrow the French government), but domestic problems loomed. Some of the problems included the following:
Some areas, such as the Vendée, were again considering secession from France.
Chouan rebels, conservative Catholic royalists supported by the clergy and whose leaders were paid by the British, were threatening civil war.
The highways were as unsafe as they had been in the years leading up to the Revolution. (Even Napoleon's baggage had been broken into on the trip to Paris.)
Armed groups of hoodlums, some quite large, terrorized the populace.
Napoleon wondered out loud what had happened to his country, and it was a good question. The government and citizens understood that something needed to be done, but few could agree on what that something was.
Napoleon knew he was very popular, but he also understood the fleeting nature of popularity. The question What have you done for me lately? has sunk many a political career, and Napoleon was determined not to let it happen to him. Everywhere he looked, he saw incompetence and threats to his beloved French Republic, and he was determined to play a major role in protecting the gains of the Revolution.
At first, he considered becoming a member of the Directory. This step would have been simple enough but for the fact that he was only 30 and the constitution required Directory members to be at least 40. There was little support for changing a constitution to put a general on the Directory, so Napoleon had to dig deeper.
Analyzing the political situation
The French political situation was chaotic at best. The legislative branch had come under the strong influence of a strong royalist faction, and there was a possibility that royalists would soon control that branch of the government.
The executive wing, the Directory, was a major defender of the Revolution. Yes, it was corrupt and mainly interested in staying in power long enough to get rich (which didn't actually take that long, as it happens), but it was also more in tune with the wishes and needs of the people than was the legislative branch.
Another, perhaps surprising, supporter of the Revolution (and hence part of the "liberal" wing of government) was the army. In the old days, the army had been run by the nobility, but now there was scarcely a noble to be found in or out of the army. Made up largely of the very common people the Revolution was designed to protect, the army was, by and large, interested in protecting the Revolution. It had become a strong political force, and anyone who sought to change the government would need the support of the army.
Unveiling conspiracies
Against this backdrop, a major plot was under way to replace the government. Well, actually, there were at least two major plots. Paul Barras, a member of the Directory who had helped bring Napoleon to the forefront, was involved in a major effort to bring back a Bourbon monarchy. A corrupt womanizer to his very core, Barras was less a royalist than a man seeking additional power and wealth, in this case perhaps as many as 12 million francs.
In addition to Barras on the right, the minister of war, General Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, a strong supporter of Jacobin causes, was considering leading a coup of his own. Bernadotte had married Napoleon's first girlfriend, Désirée Clary, and though he would serve in Napoleon's army, he would always be his rival and ultimately turn on him.
Barras and Bernadotte were not the only people involved in conspiracies. One of the major players in the third significant plot was none other than Napoleon's youngest brother, Lucien Bonaparte. Long active in Revolutionary politics, he had been elected to the Council of Five Hundred (the other legislative branch) and, just months earlier, had become its president.
Lucien was supporting a plot by Emmanuel Joseph Sieyès and Roger Ducos, both of whom he had helped become members of the Directory. Sieyès had been a major player in the very earliest days of the Revolution and now believed it was his job to give France a more stable and effective government, as well as to protect it from any royalist plots. To do that, Sieyès and his supporters believed they needed to replace the Directory with a three-man Consulate that would run France more or less as a dictatorship.
Sieyès and Lucien Bonaparte had enlisted the support of several other powerful politicians in Paris, including Joseph Fouché, Jean-Jacques Régis de Cambacérès, and Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, better known simply as Talleyrand. Talleyrand had previously failed to alert the Turks of the French expedition to Egypt and had thus caused Napoleon a great deal of difficulty.
This group had the support of a number of other politicians, but all recognized that they needed the support of the army. To get that, they needed their "sword," a general who would support them and who could bring support of the army with him. Hmmmm. Who do you suppose will end up with that job?
Actually, Sieyès originally had someone else in mind. General Barthelemy Joubert was born in the same year as Napoleon and had established a good name for himself, largely in Italy. Sieyès thought he could control Joubert, which made him an ideal candidate. Unfortunately for these plans, to say nothing of the young Joubert, he was killed at the Battle of Novi in Italy on Napoleon's 30th birthday, August 15, 1799.
Providing a sword
Sieyès then turned to plan B. That would be B as in Bonaparte. Napoleon had far more to offer than any other general. For starters, he was a national hero. Any enterprise that involved him would have instant credibility and popularity, at least at the beginning. Napoleon was also one of the most competent people around. Not only was he an excellent and successful general, but he had already shown his administrative abilities in Italy, Malta, and Egypt. Moreover — and this was very important to Sieyès — Napoleon had well-established republican beliefs; he would be an excellent shield against any royalist efforts. Of course, Sieyès wasn't too happy with Napoleon's obvious ambition, but he figured he could keep that under control.
Besides, time was of the essence. Barras and Bernadotte were not going to dawdle forever; there was no time like the present to get things underway. Napoleon was offered the chance to play his role, and after some consideration, he accepted. He knew that something had to be done to improve France's government, and he wanted to be the one to do it.
The plot thickens
The conspirators began to take action, and at first all went well. On November 9, 1799, the Council of Ancients put Napoleon in charge of the troops in Paris and its outlying areas, and then it decreed that the legislative bodies would move to the suburbs, to a town called St. Cloud, for their own security. This move was really intended just to get them out of Paris proper and away from the prying eyes of Parisian citizens. Meanwhile, Talleyrand was sent to bribe Barras to resign from the Directory. The bribe was eagerly accepted.
The stage was set, but one of the actors did not behave as well as he could have. That would be none other than Napoleon. On November 10th, Napoleon first went to the Council of Ancients to convince them of the need for change. According to at least some eyewitnesses, Napoleon lost his cool and may even have become somewhat incoherent. He seemed, to some, to be threatening force. He was roundly booed and left the hall in disgrace.
Napoleon then went to the Council of Five Hundred, where Lucien was presiding, to seek their support for change. This encounter should have been a cakewalk, but again Napoleon found himself facing increasingly angry politicians. Curses were shouted, and Napoleon was actually physically attacked. Several soldiers came in and escorted him to safety. The members of the Council then turned on Lucien, demanding that he declare his brother an outlaw. He refused but was able to calm the crowd down somewhat. He sent a note to Napoleon indicating that he had but a few minutes to act.
Napoleon's first thought was his brother's safety, so he sent a group of soldiers in to rescue Lucien. Ever the loyal brother, Lucien then addressed the soldiers who were assembled outside the Council's meeting hall — soldiers who were thoroughly confused as to what was going on — and told them that armed royalists were attempting to seize control and it was up to them to take action to protect the republic. Holding his sword up, Lucien promised to run it through Napoleon himself if necessary in the republic's defense.
Napoleon then spoke to his soldiers. He had really hoped not to have to use force in this coup, but force was clearly needed now, else he be declared an outlaw and shot. His composure now back in full order, he told his soldiers that he had attempted to speak to the Council and had been instead attacked with daggers. The soldiers were outraged; the drums sounded, and the grenadiers, bayonets fixed, marched into the hall. Many of the members of the Council took the opportunity to discover the joys of a quick exit through the windows.
Remaining members of the two branches of the legislature immediately met and appointed Napoleon, Sieyès, and Ducos as Consuls in a new provisional government. It was a bloodless coup; that, at least, had gone according to plan.
The days of November 9th and 10th fall into the Revolutionary calendar month of Brumaire, so Napoleon's rise to power is usually referred to as the Coup d'état de Brumaire.
Consolidating power
Napoleon was only one of three provisional Consuls and, in theory, not necessarily any more powerful than the other two. This fiction must have lasted all of a few minutes. Napoleon very quickly took charge, leading discussions about everything imaginable. Sieyès is said to have remarked that Napoleon was a man who knew how to do everything, was able to do everything, and wanted to do everything. He was exactly right. Napoleon and his new allies quickly appointed their supporters to important positions and began to write a constitution.
Napoleon was determined that the new constitution would be progressive and give new rights to the people. So the constitution included universal male suffrage at age 21 and a system of plebiscites (public votes) to confirm the new constitution and its new government. A legislative branch was established, but it was clear to one and all that the real power rested in the executive branch, embodied by the three Consuls.
Sieyès tried to marginalize Napoleon's power, but in the end the First Consul had the real power in the government, and Napoleon was to be First Consul. Sieyès was convinced to resign and accept the presidency of the Senate. Ducos also resigned and accepted a series of relatively minor political positions.
Napoleon then appointed Jean-Jacques Régis de Cambacérès, a respected lawyer, as Second Consul and Charles François Lebrun, a moderate known for his expertise in finances, as Third Consul.
The French people adopted the new constitution on December 14, 1799. At the ripe old age of 30, Napoleon was the leader of France. A lot of things had contributed to his rise to power, including
Personal characteristics such as his intelligence, determination, and force of will
Family support
Powerful and influential friends
His willingness to take risks
The opportunities afforded by the French Revolution and its aftermath
His luck
Most importantly, his sheer ability
Europe was about to find out just how important the events of late 1799 had been.
Securing domestic peace
Napoleon's first order of business as First Consul was to eliminate some of the internal threats to the public order. The previous government had been reluctant to send the army after the rebel bands, but Napoleon, aware that domestic peace was crucial to the success of his new government, had no such qualms. He sent soldiers in with a vengeance, along with proclamations that warned citizens that they would be shot on sight if caught collaborating with rebel groups.
Adding the carrot to the stick, Napoleon offered generous terms to those rebels who would renounce their efforts. He offered to allow nobles who had left during the Revolution, called émigrés, to return peacefully, though without having their lands restored. Priests, who had also suffered under the Revolution, were also given fair terms without actually restoring their powers.
By February 1800, most of France's internal disorder had been eliminated, and Napoleon could turn to other matters.
Behind all the public show was a floundering government. Various political factions, ranging from radical Revolutionaries on one side to royalists on the other, were vying for power. Military success in the field, most especially by General André Masséna, had at least temporarily stymied the efforts of the Second Coalition (the alliance of Austria, Russia, and England to overthrow the French government), but domestic problems loomed. Some of the problems included the following:
Some areas, such as the Vendée, were again considering secession from France.
Chouan rebels, conservative Catholic royalists supported by the clergy and whose leaders were paid by the British, were threatening civil war.
The highways were as unsafe as they had been in the years leading up to the Revolution. (Even Napoleon's baggage had been broken into on the trip to Paris.)
Armed groups of hoodlums, some quite large, terrorized the populace.
Napoleon wondered out loud what had happened to his country, and it was a good question. The government and citizens understood that something needed to be done, but few could agree on what that something was.
Napoleon knew he was very popular, but he also understood the fleeting nature of popularity. The question What have you done for me lately? has sunk many a political career, and Napoleon was determined not to let it happen to him. Everywhere he looked, he saw incompetence and threats to his beloved French Republic, and he was determined to play a major role in protecting the gains of the Revolution.
At first, he considered becoming a member of the Directory. This step would have been simple enough but for the fact that he was only 30 and the constitution required Directory members to be at least 40. There was little support for changing a constitution to put a general on the Directory, so Napoleon had to dig deeper.
Analyzing the political situation
The French political situation was chaotic at best. The legislative branch had come under the strong influence of a strong royalist faction, and there was a possibility that royalists would soon control that branch of the government.
The executive wing, the Directory, was a major defender of the Revolution. Yes, it was corrupt and mainly interested in staying in power long enough to get rich (which didn't actually take that long, as it happens), but it was also more in tune with the wishes and needs of the people than was the legislative branch.
Another, perhaps surprising, supporter of the Revolution (and hence part of the "liberal" wing of government) was the army. In the old days, the army had been run by the nobility, but now there was scarcely a noble to be found in or out of the army. Made up largely of the very common people the Revolution was designed to protect, the army was, by and large, interested in protecting the Revolution. It had become a strong political force, and anyone who sought to change the government would need the support of the army.
Unveiling conspiracies
Against this backdrop, a major plot was under way to replace the government. Well, actually, there were at least two major plots. Paul Barras, a member of the Directory who had helped bring Napoleon to the forefront, was involved in a major effort to bring back a Bourbon monarchy. A corrupt womanizer to his very core, Barras was less a royalist than a man seeking additional power and wealth, in this case perhaps as many as 12 million francs.
In addition to Barras on the right, the minister of war, General Jean-Baptiste Bernadotte, a strong supporter of Jacobin causes, was considering leading a coup of his own. Bernadotte had married Napoleon's first girlfriend, Désirée Clary, and though he would serve in Napoleon's army, he would always be his rival and ultimately turn on him.
Barras and Bernadotte were not the only people involved in conspiracies. One of the major players in the third significant plot was none other than Napoleon's youngest brother, Lucien Bonaparte. Long active in Revolutionary politics, he had been elected to the Council of Five Hundred (the other legislative branch) and, just months earlier, had become its president.
Lucien was supporting a plot by Emmanuel Joseph Sieyès and Roger Ducos, both of whom he had helped become members of the Directory. Sieyès had been a major player in the very earliest days of the Revolution and now believed it was his job to give France a more stable and effective government, as well as to protect it from any royalist plots. To do that, Sieyès and his supporters believed they needed to replace the Directory with a three-man Consulate that would run France more or less as a dictatorship.
Sieyès and Lucien Bonaparte had enlisted the support of several other powerful politicians in Paris, including Joseph Fouché, Jean-Jacques Régis de Cambacérès, and Charles Maurice de Talleyrand-Périgord, better known simply as Talleyrand. Talleyrand had previously failed to alert the Turks of the French expedition to Egypt and had thus caused Napoleon a great deal of difficulty.
This group had the support of a number of other politicians, but all recognized that they needed the support of the army. To get that, they needed their "sword," a general who would support them and who could bring support of the army with him. Hmmmm. Who do you suppose will end up with that job?
Actually, Sieyès originally had someone else in mind. General Barthelemy Joubert was born in the same year as Napoleon and had established a good name for himself, largely in Italy. Sieyès thought he could control Joubert, which made him an ideal candidate. Unfortunately for these plans, to say nothing of the young Joubert, he was killed at the Battle of Novi in Italy on Napoleon's 30th birthday, August 15, 1799.
Providing a sword
Sieyès then turned to plan B. That would be B as in Bonaparte. Napoleon had far more to offer than any other general. For starters, he was a national hero. Any enterprise that involved him would have instant credibility and popularity, at least at the beginning. Napoleon was also one of the most competent people around. Not only was he an excellent and successful general, but he had already shown his administrative abilities in Italy, Malta, and Egypt. Moreover — and this was very important to Sieyès — Napoleon had well-established republican beliefs; he would be an excellent shield against any royalist efforts. Of course, Sieyès wasn't too happy with Napoleon's obvious ambition, but he figured he could keep that under control.
Besides, time was of the essence. Barras and Bernadotte were not going to dawdle forever; there was no time like the present to get things underway. Napoleon was offered the chance to play his role, and after some consideration, he accepted. He knew that something had to be done to improve France's government, and he wanted to be the one to do it.
The plot thickens
The conspirators began to take action, and at first all went well. On November 9, 1799, the Council of Ancients put Napoleon in charge of the troops in Paris and its outlying areas, and then it decreed that the legislative bodies would move to the suburbs, to a town called St. Cloud, for their own security. This move was really intended just to get them out of Paris proper and away from the prying eyes of Parisian citizens. Meanwhile, Talleyrand was sent to bribe Barras to resign from the Directory. The bribe was eagerly accepted.
The stage was set, but one of the actors did not behave as well as he could have. That would be none other than Napoleon. On November 10th, Napoleon first went to the Council of Ancients to convince them of the need for change. According to at least some eyewitnesses, Napoleon lost his cool and may even have become somewhat incoherent. He seemed, to some, to be threatening force. He was roundly booed and left the hall in disgrace.
Napoleon then went to the Council of Five Hundred, where Lucien was presiding, to seek their support for change. This encounter should have been a cakewalk, but again Napoleon found himself facing increasingly angry politicians. Curses were shouted, and Napoleon was actually physically attacked. Several soldiers came in and escorted him to safety. The members of the Council then turned on Lucien, demanding that he declare his brother an outlaw. He refused but was able to calm the crowd down somewhat. He sent a note to Napoleon indicating that he had but a few minutes to act.
Napoleon's first thought was his brother's safety, so he sent a group of soldiers in to rescue Lucien. Ever the loyal brother, Lucien then addressed the soldiers who were assembled outside the Council's meeting hall — soldiers who were thoroughly confused as to what was going on — and told them that armed royalists were attempting to seize control and it was up to them to take action to protect the republic. Holding his sword up, Lucien promised to run it through Napoleon himself if necessary in the republic's defense.
Napoleon then spoke to his soldiers. He had really hoped not to have to use force in this coup, but force was clearly needed now, else he be declared an outlaw and shot. His composure now back in full order, he told his soldiers that he had attempted to speak to the Council and had been instead attacked with daggers. The soldiers were outraged; the drums sounded, and the grenadiers, bayonets fixed, marched into the hall. Many of the members of the Council took the opportunity to discover the joys of a quick exit through the windows.
Remaining members of the two branches of the legislature immediately met and appointed Napoleon, Sieyès, and Ducos as Consuls in a new provisional government. It was a bloodless coup; that, at least, had gone according to plan.
The days of November 9th and 10th fall into the Revolutionary calendar month of Brumaire, so Napoleon's rise to power is usually referred to as the Coup d'état de Brumaire.
Consolidating power
Napoleon was only one of three provisional Consuls and, in theory, not necessarily any more powerful than the other two. This fiction must have lasted all of a few minutes. Napoleon very quickly took charge, leading discussions about everything imaginable. Sieyès is said to have remarked that Napoleon was a man who knew how to do everything, was able to do everything, and wanted to do everything. He was exactly right. Napoleon and his new allies quickly appointed their supporters to important positions and began to write a constitution.
Napoleon was determined that the new constitution would be progressive and give new rights to the people. So the constitution included universal male suffrage at age 21 and a system of plebiscites (public votes) to confirm the new constitution and its new government. A legislative branch was established, but it was clear to one and all that the real power rested in the executive branch, embodied by the three Consuls.
Sieyès tried to marginalize Napoleon's power, but in the end the First Consul had the real power in the government, and Napoleon was to be First Consul. Sieyès was convinced to resign and accept the presidency of the Senate. Ducos also resigned and accepted a series of relatively minor political positions.
Napoleon then appointed Jean-Jacques Régis de Cambacérès, a respected lawyer, as Second Consul and Charles François Lebrun, a moderate known for his expertise in finances, as Third Consul.
The French people adopted the new constitution on December 14, 1799. At the ripe old age of 30, Napoleon was the leader of France. A lot of things had contributed to his rise to power, including
Personal characteristics such as his intelligence, determination, and force of will
Family support
Powerful and influential friends
His willingness to take risks
The opportunities afforded by the French Revolution and its aftermath
His luck
Most importantly, his sheer ability
Europe was about to find out just how important the events of late 1799 had been.
Securing domestic peace
Napoleon's first order of business as First Consul was to eliminate some of the internal threats to the public order. The previous government had been reluctant to send the army after the rebel bands, but Napoleon, aware that domestic peace was crucial to the success of his new government, had no such qualms. He sent soldiers in with a vengeance, along with proclamations that warned citizens that they would be shot on sight if caught collaborating with rebel groups.
Adding the carrot to the stick, Napoleon offered generous terms to those rebels who would renounce their efforts. He offered to allow nobles who had left during the Revolution, called émigrés, to return peacefully, though without having their lands restored. Priests, who had also suffered under the Revolution, were also given fair terms without actually restoring their powers.
By February 1800, most of France's internal disorder had been eliminated, and Napoleon could turn to other matters.
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