In spite of all this propaganda, the prospect that history might repeat itself and a general council would convene to curb the pope’s authority, or even depose him and create a new pontiff, was not a chimera. Even in the sixteenth century, the various monarchs of Europe did not hesitate to intimidate the pope with such a possibility. Thus, in 1511, the French king, supported by the German emperor, ignored the Execrabilis bull and instigated a council in Pisa. One of the main issues was the deposition of Pope Julius II, on the charge that his conduct was ruining the church (and getting too much in the way of French interests and ambitions). Pope Julius countered by convoking the Fifth Lateran Council, which to no one’s surprise immediately annulled the acts of the Pisan assembly.
The Stanza d’Eliodoro frescoes, painted shortly afterwards by Raphael in the Vatican Palace, are certainly related to these events, but again the allusions to current issues are put in general terms. In 1508, the still relatively unknown Raphael had taken on the commission to decorate one of the rooms of the papal apartment, what is known as the Stanza della Segnatura. This room probably served as the pope’s library, and the paintings accordingly show famous authors and scholars from all ages (fig. 14). They astounded the pope so much that he immediately ordered Raphael to continue and decorate the adjoining Stanza d’Eliodoro. In all likelihood, this room was an audience chamber, and thus subjects with a more political content were chosen. Begun in 1511, the frescoes on the four walls show instances of divine intervention (fig. 15);21 in all four scenes a pope is shown as present, even if the story itself does not require him or his presence is downright anachronistic. In the first fresco, three heavenly creatures, in answer to the Jewish high priest Onias’s prayer for help, drive out Heliodorus trying to rob the temple treasury (fig. 16).22 A pope is miraculously included as an eyewitness to this episode from the Old Testament. In the second fresco, an angel liberates Saint Peter from prison (fig. 17).23 In the third fresco, Saints Peter and Paul appear in the sky to assist Pope Leo I in deterring Attila and his Huns from advancing to Rome in 452 (fig. 18). In the final fresco, representing a miracle that took place at Bolsena in 1263, the communion wafer exudes real blood, releasing the celebrating priest from his doubts about the question whether the eucharistic transformation really changes the host into the body of Christ (fig. 19). A pope appears here too, though none was present when the miracle occurred. The relevance of these four events for the current pope has been highlighted by giving the painted pontiffs (except Saint Peter himself) the facial traits of Julius II and his successor Leo X, who continued the decoration project after Julius’s death.
Although it is tempting to relate the depicted events to the current political situation, particularly the threat of the French, it is actually hard to connect them directly to specific circumstances. Julius II was already likened to the high priest Onias before the problems with the French began,24 and Leo I dispelling the Huns—at first sight an apt reference to Pope Julius’s military campaign against the French in 1511—a general example to demonstrate the papacy’s divinely supported independence.25 Moreover, specific details of the preparatory sketches indicate that the paintings had already been planned in 1510, well before the Council of Pisa and the Fifth Lateran Council convened. In a more general sense, the paintings demonstrate that in every age, from biblical times to the present, God will support the leader of his faithful, whether the pope or his precursor, the Jewish high priest. The popes included in the paintings visibly convey that they feel secure in God’s helping presence. They seem quiet and undisturbed in spite of the dangers threatening them. Thus, the paintings create an image of the papacy as a divinely supported authority that through the ages has overcome doubts about its teachings and attacks against its power and institutions. Details from the present relate the events from the past to contemporary problems, without becoming too specific, making it clear that the papacy will prevail over the current troubles, as it will over those of the future. Just as in the doors for Eugenius IV and the paintings for Sixtus IV, a balance is struck between generality and specificity, which makes the paintings serve as fitting propaganda for the pope who commissioned them as well as for his successors.
The three cases discussed are just a few instances of the wave of propaganda issued by the papacy, in painting and sculpture as well as many other forms of art: writing, music, and temporary manifestations such as parades and theater festivals. In this respect, the papal court did not really differ from that of secular rulers, who also employed art as an important tool to promote their status and authority. But neither the amount nor the quality of the papal propaganda could change the fact that, a century after the Council of Constance, the position of the papacy was still unstable. The conciliar battle in 1511 showed that the days when the pope’s authority was taken for granted were definitely over.
Meanwhile there were other factors starting to contribute to the dwindling respect for the papacy. In spite of an urgent need to deal with all kinds of abuses and thoroughly reform the church in accordance with the call of the Council of Constance, the successive popes had never wholeheartedly embarked upon this major challenge. With myopic persistence, they had refused to tackle the core issues and continued to perform cosmetic surgery. Yet the need for reforms was real and could neither be ignored nor suppressed. All over Europe initiatives had emerged that found support on a local level, and reformers increasingly turned to secular rulers for endorsement. The papacy in Rome came to be viewed with suspicion, as an obstacle to rather than a promoter of reform. The result was disunity and regionalism, and a general climate of distrust and unhappiness with Rome. The atmosphere grew even more alarming for the papacy with the appearance of Martin Luther. This monk from a reformed Augustinian congregation not only joined the European choir chanting songs of lamentation about the abuses of the church, but started to sing a lead part in directly challenging the position of the papacy. However, like so many other attempts to put an end to the abuses in the church, Luther’s calls fell on deaf papal ears.
Besides complaints, Luther also confronted the church with a view on faith that basically made the priesthood and consequently the entire church hierarchy unnecessary. In his view, the relationship between God and man is a direct one, which is not and cannot be administered by the church. Man’s knowledge about God results from his own individual understanding of the Bible, not from the interpretation that the church imposes upon him through the priesthood. Every individual believer is therefore, according to Luther, his or her own priest. Even more importantly, man is not freed from his burden of sin by the church’s absolution, but by inner grace and faith.
Luther’s view presented a double threat for the papacy. Considering human salvation an individual affair between man and God implied that the church and its complete hierarchy, including the papacy, were marginal institutions. Not only was the door then open for the faithful to disagree with or ignore the teachings of the church—as