THE MERCHANTS OF BABYLON The Sale of Sacred Authority

An investigation of Francesco Guicciardini’s Storia d’Italia, the commerce of the Renaissance papacy, and the New Testament's testimony concerning the one everlasting High Priest.

“And the light of a candle shall shine no more at all in thee; and the voice of the bridegroom and of the bride shall be heard no more at all in thee: for thy merchants were the great men of the earth; for by thy sorceries were all nations deceived.” — Revelation 18:23 (KJV)

Part One — Evidence of alleged witchcraft and dealings with the Devil is examined in Part Two.

When Jesus Christ drove the merchants and money changers from the temple, he did not ask whether their trade had been authorised by the religious authorities, whether their businesses enjoyed ancient privileges, or whether their activities produced sufficient revenue to maintain the sanctuary. He condemned the transformation of a house devoted to God into a place of merchandise. The question raised by that event becomes immeasurably more serious when the commodity is no longer an animal brought for sacrifice, but ecclesiastical authority itself: an office supposedly established by Christ, a dignity supposedly bestowed through the Holy Spirit, or a spiritual privilege offered to men and women seeking forgiveness and salvation.

What happens when those claiming to administer the sacred things of God become the merchants selling them? What becomes of the distinction between serving Christ and exploiting those who believe in him when ecclesiastical offices are exchanged for money, religious sanctions are employed to obtain territories, and the revenues raised through spiritual privileges are directed towards the advancement of powerful families?

These are not accusations which require us to rely upon the extravagant rumours so frequently associated with Renaissance Rome. They emerge from the historical testimony of Francesco Guicciardini (1483–1540), the Florentine statesman, historian and administrator who served under the Medici popes Leo X and Clement VII. His twenty-book Storia d’Italia (see attached) recounts the Italian wars and the political and ecclesiastical struggles of the period from 1490 to the 1530s, drawing upon his own experience of government and the political information available to him.

Guicciardini was not a Protestant polemicist seeking to destroy the Roman Church. He accepted important traditional claims concerning its spiritual authority and openly condemned aspects of Martin Luther's teaching. This makes his testimony particularly revealing. He could defend the institution's spiritual "claims" while describing practices which exposed its highest offices to the accusation of corruption, commercial exploitation, violence and dynastic ambition.

If an ecclesiastical office exists to serve the souls redeemed by Jesus Christ, by what authority may those who occupy it sell its privileges, pledge its revenues, purchase its honours, or employ its claimed spiritual powers to enrich their own families?

The Pontificate Bought with Money: Alexander VI

In August 1492, following the death of Innocent VIII, Cardinal Rodrigo Borgia became Pope Alexander VI. Guicciardini attributed the outcome partly to divisions between the powerful cardinals Ascanio Sforza and Giuliano della Rovere, but identified something considerably more disturbing as the principal means by which Borgia secured sufficient support.

He wrote:

“comperò palesemente, parte con danari parte con promesse degli uffici e benefici suoi, che erano amplissimi, molti voti di cardinali.”

“He openly purchased many cardinals’ votes, partly with money and partly with promises of his offices and benefices, which were very extensive.”

Guicciardini did not describe an ordinary political negotiation in which individuals merely exchanged assurances of cooperation. He alleged the purchase of votes in an election whose participants claimed to be choosing the supreme "earthly representative" of Jesus Christ. His condemnation of the participating cardinals is especially significant:

“i quali, disprezzatori dell’evangelico ammaestramento, non si vergognorono di vendere la facoltà di trafficare col nome della autorità celeste i sacri tesori, nella piú eccelsa parte del tempio.”

“Who, despising evangelical teaching, were not ashamed to sell the power to traffic in sacred treasures under the name of heavenly authority, in the highest part of the temple.”

(Storia d’Italia, I.2, pp. 6–7; PDF pp. 9–10.)

Notice what Guicciardini himself identified as the enormity of the transaction. It was not simply that wealthy men had influenced an election. It was that men invoking heavenly authority were exchanging privileges attached to the sacred things of God for material advantage. The very institution which claimed to administer those treasures had become, in his description, their marketplace.

He named a beneficiary. Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, who played a leading role in assembling support for Borgia, was promised the vice-chancellorship, one of the most powerful offices at the Roman court. The bargain also concerned churches, castles and Borgia's richly furnished Roman palace. Guicciardini described the vice-chancellorship as “per prezzo di tanta sceleratezza” — “as the price of so great a wickedness.”

No complete financial ledger or total sum paid in the conclave is provided by Guicciardini, and an account of his allegations must not invent one. What he does identify is the exchange itself: ecclesiastical revenues, property and administrative power offered in return for electoral support (apparently the Holy Spirit required a considerable financial incentive before making His choice!). A cardinal's vote was valuable because it could help confer control over an institution whose offices and resources could then be distributed among the successful candidate's supporters.

If the appointment was truly the exercise of a divine office, how could one of its highest positions become consideration in a bargain for votes? Did the authority of the Holy Spirit require the vice-chancellorship, churches, castles and a furnished palace to persuade these men to recognise the supposedly appointed candidate? And when an elector accepted such rewards, was he discerning the will of Christ or negotiating the value of his political support?

Guicciardini's testimony cannot establish the private intention of every cardinal, but it establishes a precise historical accusation which reaches the centre of the institution's claim to sacred authority.

A Captive Prince and Forty Thousand Ducats a Year

The financial importance of papal political power was not limited to ecclesiastical appointments. Guicciardini also recounted the treatment of Cem, the Ottoman prince whose existence posed a threat to the rule of his brother, Sultan Bayezid II.

Bayezid had a powerful interest in preventing Cem from returning to Ottoman territory or passing into the hands of rulers who might use him as a rival claimant. Guicciardini described a yearly payment associated with keeping the prince in custody:

“pagava ciascun anno, sotto nome delle spese che si facevano in alimentarlo e custodirlo, ducati quarantamila a’ pontefici.”

“He paid the pontiffs each year, ostensibly for the expenses incurred in feeding and guarding him, forty thousand ducats.”

(I.17, p. 111; PDF p. 114.)

The stated amount was 40,000 ducats annually (approximately €16 million in today's gold value). The precise route and chronology of the payments require care, since Cem's custody had previously involved other authorities, and the passage must not be taken to prove that every annual instalment arrived punctually in the papal treasury. Nevertheless, the underlying arrangement presents an extraordinary spectacle: the continued detention of a human being possessed substantial diplomatic and financial value.

Cem was not sold as a chattel slave, and describing him as such would obscure the actual arrangement. His political captivity was itself the asset. His freedom threatened one ruler; his detention benefited another; and the papal court could exercise influence and receive money because it controlled his person.

When human liberty acquires a recurring financial value, one must ask whether those responsible are protecting a person or profiting from the circumstances which deny him freedom. The questions raised by such arrangements extend far beyond the custody of an Ottoman prince. They concern the willingness of religious rulers to use human beings as instruments of political advantage.

Twelve Cardinalates, a Jubilee and the Army of Cesare Borgia

The connection between ecclesiastical privileges and dynastic warfare becomes unmistakable in Guicciardini's account of the year 1500.

Alexander VI was seeking resources for the military advancement of his son (yes, his son—apparently the obligation of clerical celibacy was conveniently overlooked by the man claiming to be Christ’s earthly vicar!). Cesare Borgia, known as Valentino. Cesare's campaigns were directed towards the acquisition and consolidation of territories in central Italy. The pope, according to Guicciardini, found money through the creation of cardinals and through the Jubilee.

Of the appointments he wrote:

“avendo questo anno medesimo creati, con grandissima infamia, dodici cardinali non de’ piú benemeriti ma di quegli che gli offersono prezzo maggiore.”

“Having in that same year created, to his very great disgrace, twelve cardinals, not from the most deserving, but from those who offered him the highest price.”

(V.2, p. 439; PDF p. 442.)

Twelve cardinalates, Guicciardini asserted, were awarded not according to superior merit, but according to the amounts offered. This was not merely an instance of a relative receiving preferment, or a ruler favouring a political supporter. The historian explicitly identified price as the determining consideration.

The same passage describes a further means of obtaining revenue. The Jubilee, ordinarily associated with pilgrimage to Rome and spiritual privileges, was extended so that people who did not travel to the city could obtain its benefits through the provision of money.

Guicciardini explained the arrangement in terms which are particularly important for tracing the money:

“dando facoltà di conseguirlo a ciascuno che, non andato a Roma, porgesse qualche quantità di danari: i quali tutti, insieme con gli altri che in qualunque modo poteva cavare de’ tesori spirituali e del dominio temporale della Chiesa, somministrava al Valentino.”

“Granting the opportunity to obtain it to anyone who, without having gone to Rome, offered some quantity of money: all of which, together with whatever else he could draw from the spiritual treasures and temporal dominion of the Church, he supplied to Valentino.”

(V.2, p. 439; PDF p. 442.)

There is the financial mechanism in the historian's own words. A privilege presented as spiritual was associated with a monetary contribution; ecclesiastical and territorial revenues were gathered; and Guicciardini identified Cesare Borgia as the beneficiary.

The passage does not give a complete amount, and it does not prove that every person making a Jubilee payment was physically coerced. It does, however, directly attribute the direction of the revenues to Alexander's son.

The distinction matters because the gravest accusation is not necessarily that every payer was forced to surrender money. It is that spiritual privileges were employed as sources of revenue for a military and dynastic enterprise. Money offered in connection with religious hopes was allegedly redirected towards the territorial ambitions of the ruler's own family.

Who authorised the pope to convert spiritual privileges into resources for his son's army? 

If Christ's sacrifice was sufficient, and if forgiveness and access to God belong to his mediatorial work, what spiritual benefit could genuinely become a commodity whose proceeds were placed at the disposal of a military commander?

Peter had already answered the attempted purchase of a divine gift: “Thy money perish with thee, because thou hast thought that the gift of God may be purchased with money” (Acts 8:20, KJV). Yet Guicciardini described an ecclesiastical government in which religious dignity itself could be sold to the highest bidder.

And this was not merely a commercial arrangement conducted far away from the consequences of the money being raised. The subsequent campaigns of Cesare Borgia included some of the most disturbing acts of calculated violence in the history.

The Blood Behind the Borgia Territories

In 1501, Cesare Borgia acquired Faenza, where the young ruler Astorre Manfredi had resisted him. According to Guicciardini, the surrender terms guaranteed the inhabitants' safety and secured Astorre's personal liberty, including the freedom to travel and retain his private income.

The historian noted that Cesare observed the conditions given to the townspeople, but detained the young ruler under a courteous pretext. Astorre was subsequently taken to Rome, where he and an illegitimate brother were killed.

“fu occultamente insieme con uno suo fratello naturale privato della vita.”

“He was secretly deprived of life together with an illegitimate brother of his.”

(V.4, pp. 443–444; PDF pp. 446–447.)

The text does not identify the actual executioner in that sentence, nor does it supply a signed order from Alexander VI. The episode nevertheless places the detention and deaths within Cesare's acquisition of Faenza. A young man had surrendered under terms protecting his liberty; the undertaking was followed by captivity and death.

During the conquest of Camerino in 1502, Guicciardini attributed still more explicit responsibility to Cesare. After obtaining control of the territory, Cesare had its ruler, Giulio Cesare da Varano, and two of his sons strangled.

The historian wrote:

“gli fece, con la medesima immanità che usava contro agli altri, strangolare.”

“He had them strangled, with the same savagery he employed against others.”

(V.9, p. 474; PDF p. 477.)

In this case Guicciardini attributes the order to Cesare. The death of the displaced ruler and his sons followed the appropriation of their territory. The value of the episode for understanding the Borgia enterprise is not dependent upon speculation concerning poison or private sexual behaviour. It concerns the direct relationship between conquest, removal of political opponents and lethal force.

An even stronger case occurred at Senigallia, at the end of December 1502 and in January 1503.

Cesare faced commanders whose loyalties had become uncertain and who had participated in opposition to him. He arranged an apparent reconciliation and received them under circumstances designed to produce confidence. Once they were in his power, he ordered their capture.

Two of the men, Vitellozzo Vitelli and Oliverotto da Fermo — called Liverotto by Guicciardini — were strangled. Guicciardini wrote:

“fece strangolare in una camera Vitellozzo e Liverotto.”

“He had Vitellozzo and Liverotto strangled in a room.”

(V.11, p. 492; PDF p. 495.)

Paolo Orsini and the duke of Gravina, Francesco Orsini, were later strangled after developments involving the arrest of Orsini relatives in Rome. The central operation is corroborated by Niccolò Machiavelli's near-contemporary Descrizione del modo tenuto dal Duca Valentino nello ammazzare Vitellozzo Vitelli, Oliverotto da Fermo, il signor Pagolo e il duca di Gravina Orsini. Machiavelli's account helps establish the deliberate trap, the seizures and the killings, although the precise dating in older Florentine accounts must be interpreted according to the calendar conventions then in use.

These were political rivals, and nothing in their deaths automatically establishes that they were martyrs for Christ. Nor can every act Cesare ordered simply be attributed personally to his father. But the central facts are grave enough: apparent reconciliation was followed by imprisonment and strangulation, and the elimination of the captains strengthened the position of the Borgia regime.

Meanwhile, Alexander VI acted in Rome.

Guicciardini recounts that, following communications with Cesare, Alexander summoned Cardinal Orsini under a pretext and imprisoned him. Other members of the family were arrested, and steps were taken to secure their lands. The pope, according to the historian, sent another of his sons to take possession (another son! Good heavens, this supposedly celibate pope had certainly been keeping himself busy!).

“il pontefice mandò il principe di Squillaci suo figliuolo a pigliare la possessione delle terre di Pagolo e degli altri.”

“The pope sent his son, the prince of Squillace, to take possession of the lands of Paolo and the others.”

(V.12, pp. 494–495; PDF pp. 497–498.)

Here the historian attributes an act directly to the pontiff: an order for the appropriation of the political opponents' property by a member of his own family. The claim that Cardinal Orsini's subsequent death in confinement resulted from poisoning is presented as a widely held belief, not as something Guicciardini proves. The seizure of territory, however, is plainly part of his account.

What should astonish us is not merely the brutality of Renaissance warfare, widespread as that brutality was. It is the conjunction of such methods with claims to possess supreme spiritual authority over Christians. The institution which professed to guide souls towards Christ was simultaneously participating in territorial conflicts conducted through deception, imprisonment, dispossession and killing.

Other accusations associated with the Borgia family — that Cesare arranged the murder of his brother Giovanni, duke of Gandia, that the family engaged in incestuous relationships involving Lucrezia Borgia, or that Alexander himself died after accidentally drinking poisoned wine prepared for Cardinal Adriano da Corneto — must not be presented as established historical facts. Guicciardini reports or discusses such stories, sometimes expressly indicating their doubtful character. The separate allegation of sexual abuse surrounding Astorre Manfredi is similarly qualified and does not identify a proven perpetrator.

There is no need to make every rumour true in order to establish the severity of the conduct which the stronger evidence describes. The well-attested stranglings, the seizure of territories and the financial use of ecclesiastical powers are sufficient grounds for serious moral judgment.

Revelation 9:21 (KJV)

“Neither repented they of their murders, nor of their sorceries, nor of their fornication, nor of their thefts.”

Julius II: The Spiritual Sword Turned Against the Temporal Enemy

The death of Alexander VI did not end the entanglement of ecclesiastical office with political bargains and military force. Giuliano della Rovere, elected as Julius II in November 1503, was himself presented by Guicciardini as a man whose election involved extensive promises to those whose assistance could secure the pontificate.

Guicciardini recognised Giuliano's personal reputation, established friendships and influence, but also described:

“le promissioni immoderate e infinite fatte da lui a cardinali a príncipi a baroni e a ciascuno che gli potesse essere utile a questo negozio.”

“The excessive and countless promises he made to cardinals, princes, barons, and anyone who could be useful to him in this business.”

(VI.5, pp. 544–546; PDF pp. 547–549.)

This is not a receipt proving that every supporter was paid a bribe. It is an explicit account of ecclesiastical advancement being pursued through far-reaching promises of patronage and advantage.

The significance becomes particularly striking in 1511, when Julius issued legislation against simony in papal elections. Guicciardini commented that the pontiff wished to prevent others from obtaining the dignity by the same means which he himself had employed:

“volendo proibire agli altri d’ascendere a tanto grado per quel mezzo col quale vi era asceso egli.”

“Wishing to forbid others to rise to so high a rank by the means by which he himself had risen.”

(X.4, p. 922; PDF p. 925.)

The anti-simony legislation was real, although Guicciardini's characterisation of Julius's own election must be distinguished from documentary proof of each alleged payment. Nevertheless, the irony he intended is unmistakable. The pontiff who legislated against buying the papacy was portrayed by this historian as having obtained it through the very practices he wished to prohibit.

If such practices were unlawful and contrary to the sacred character of the office, why should their prohibition become urgent only after a successful candidate had secured the position?

Nor was money the only consideration offered in ecclesiastical bargains. In 1507 Julius attempted to obtain Giovanni Bentivoglio and his son Alessandro as prisoners from Louis XII of France. In return, he offered an ecclesiastical dignity to another man:

“offerendo, in caso gli fusse consentito questo, mandare l’insegne del cardinalato al vescovo d’Albi.”

“Offering, if this were granted to him, to send the insignia of the cardinalate to the bishop of Albi.”

(VII.8, p. 659; PDF p. 662.)

Louis declined to surrender the prisoners, considering that their guilt had not been properly established and that he was bound by earlier undertakings. The bargain was therefore not completed. Yet the offer itself is remarkable. The elevation of a man within the ecclesiastical hierarchy was proposed as consideration for the delivery of political opponents into papal custody.

If the dignity of a cardinal was attached to the service of Christ, why was it available as a reward for handing over prisoners?

Excommunication, Confiscation and the Enslavement of Persons

Julius II's conflict with Venice in 1509 provides one of the most troubling examples of religious sanctions employed as instruments of political coercion.

During the war associated with the League of Cambrai, Julius issued a monitory against the Venetians. The dispute involved not only territories claimed by the Papal States but ecclesiastical appointments, revenues, rights of jurisdiction and the political position of the republic. Guicciardini recorded a demand that Venice restore territories and their revenues within twenty-four days, accompanied by threats of excommunication and interdict extending beyond the ruling authorities to communities and places receiving Venetians.

The most remarkable provision was directed towards other Christians. Guicciardini wrote:

“a’ quali concedeva facoltà di occupare per tutto le robe loro e fare schiave le persone.”

“To whom he granted authority everywhere to seize their property and enslave their persons.”

(VIII.4, pp. 715–716; PDF pp. 718–719.)

This language must be confronted without disguising its implications. The historian reports a declaration under which the property of Venetians could be seized and Venetians themselves made slaves. The original bull and its subsequent implementation would need independent examination before claiming that particular numbers of persons were actually enslaved under it. But the authorization as reported is itself an extraordinary measure.

The dispute concerned the authority, possessions and jurisdiction of an ecclesiastical ruler. Its sanctions purported to permit actions against human beings who were treated as enemies on account of their political allegiance.

How could a man claiming to represent the Redeemer authorise Christians to enslave other human beings as part of a conflict over ecclesiastical territory and jurisdiction? Where did Christ command his shepherds to defend their jurisdiction by making men and women liable to seizure as property?

The arrangement following Venetian submission adds another dimension. In February 1510, absolution was negotiated on terms affecting the republic's jurisdiction and ecclesiastical revenues. Venice was required to surrender or restrict certain claims over appointments, ecclesiastical causes and taxation.

One condition was:

“Non conferissino o in qualunque modo concedessino benefici o degnità ecclesiastiche.”

“They were not to confer or in any way grant benefices or ecclesiastical dignities.”

(VIII.16, pp. 791–792; PDF pp. 794–795.)

Venetian ambassadors subsequently participated in a public penitential ceremony and were readmitted to Mass. No direct cash price for forgiveness is established by the narrative; it was a complex political and jurisdictional settlement. Yet the connection between spiritual reconciliation and concessions of material or administrative value is undeniable.

The keys which Roman pontiffs "claimed" to exercise were being employed amid negotiations concerning revenues, jurisdiction and the control of territories. Was the reconciliation primarily concerned with the spiritual restoration of persons before God, or with the restoration of the Roman court's contested authority? The evidence shows both religious and political elements, but it makes impossible the claim that such sanctions operated independently of temporal interests.

In 1511, Julius extended ecclesiastical coercion to Florence and Pisa because of their involvement with a council opposed to his authority.

“dichiarò essere sottoposte allo interdetto ecclesiastico le città di Firenze e di Pisa.”

“He declared the cities of Florence and Pisa subject to ecclesiastical interdict.”

(X.5, p. 927; PDF p. 930.)

An interdict was no ordinary diplomatic protest. It could interfere with the public religious life of whole communities. The exact local consequences require separate investigation, but the declaration applied ecclesiastical penalties to entire cities embroiled in a contest concerning the pope and a rival council.

What spiritual offence had every ordinary inhabitant committed merely by living under a government implicated in this dispute? If access to religious observances could be curtailed as pressure upon magistrates and princes, were the souls of the people being shepherded or placed within a struggle for jurisdiction?

Thirty Thousand Ducats for Siena

Julius's dynastic plans were equally revealing. Shortly before his death in 1513, Guicciardini recorded a secret arrangement through which the pope sought to acquire Siena for his nephew, the duke of Urbino:

“aveva comperato secretamente, per prezzo di trentamila ducati da Cesare la città di Siena per il duca d’Urbino.”

“He had secretly purchased the city of Siena from the emperor for thirty thousand ducats for the duke of Urbino.”

(XI.8, p. 1070; PDF p. 1073.)

Here Cesare means the emperor, not Cesare Borgia. The reported sum was 30,000 ducats (approximately €12 million in today’s gold value). A separate proposal involving a loan of 40,000 ducats secured against Modena belonged to another transaction and must not be combined with the Siena figure.

The arrangement over Siena did not establish that the inhabitants had consented to the transfer or that Julius had already obtained effective possession. It concerned rights and authority claimed by an emperor and sought by a pontiff for the advantage of his nephew.

The nature of the intended benefit remains clear. The pope was seeking territorial aggrandisement for his family through ruler-to-ruler bargaining.

Guicciardini also recounted the murder of Cardinal Francesco Alidosi in 1511 by Francesco Maria della Rovere, duke of Urbino and nephew of Julius II. The duke killed him with a dagger:

“ammazzò di sua mano propria con uno pugnale.”

“He killed him with his own hand with a dagger.”

(IX.18, pp. 901–902; PDF pp. 904–905.)

Julius was deeply grieved by Alidosi's murder, according to Guicciardini, and it would be false to attribute the killing to an order from the pope. Yet in the later proceedings under Leo X, the duke's absolution was described as having been granted by grace rather than in recognition of his innocence (XII.21, p. 1219; PDF p. 1222).

The distinction is important. A pope's grief over a murder is not evidence that he commissioned it. Nevertheless, the involvement of ecclesiastical rulers and their close relatives in affairs of armed violence and political privilege remains an integral part of the history.

Another example of violent misconduct within the cardinalate concerned Cardinal Ippolito d’Este (hang on, was “Thou shalt not covet” not one of the Ten Commandments? Apparently, even that had escaped the attention of a prince of the Church!). Guicciardini describes his jealousy of his brother Giulio, whose eyes a woman had admired, and alleges that the cardinal ordered servants to attack him during a hunt:

“gli fece da alcuni suoi staffieri, bastandogli l’animo a stare presente a tanta sceleratezza, cavare gli occhi.”

“He had some of his grooms gouge out his eyes, having the heart to remain present at such wickedness.”

(VI.16, p. 608; PDF p. 611.)

The permanent medical consequences cannot be established solely from this passage, but the accusation of a deliberately arranged attack is explicit. This was the alleged personal crime of a cardinal rather than an institutional decree. It is nevertheless a disturbing illustration of the lives and rivalries of men who held the Church's most exalted dignities.

Guicciardini's Judgment on Julius II

Following Julius's death, Guicciardini offered a "judgment" which goes directly to the distinction between secular greatness and Christian ministry. He acknowledged the pope's remarkable determination and political achievements, but questioned whether the very qualities which might have brought glory to an earthly prince were appropriate to a pontiff.

He criticised those who regarded it as more fitting for popes to expand the dominion of the Apostolic See “con l’armi e col sangue de’ cristiani” — “with weapons and the blood of Christians” — than to labour for the salvation of souls through good example and the correction of abuses.

He ended the comparison by referring to the souls:

“per la salute di quelle anime, per la quale si magnificano che Cristo gli abbia costituiti in terra suoi vicari.”

“For the salvation of those souls, for whose sake they boast that Christ "constituted" them his vicars on earth.”

(XI.8, pp. 1072–1073; PDF pp. 1075–1076.)

Guicciardini did not reject the existence of a papal spiritual office in this passage. His accusation was that the men claiming that office had directed their energies towards military power rather than the salvation of souls.

But his criticism raises an even deeper question. If the justification of the office is the care of those already redeemed by Christ, and the office is instead used to expand territory through war and the shedding of Christian blood, what authority has converted the shepherd's ministry into the prerogatives of a secular prince?

The distinction cannot be dismissed as a minor imperfection of otherwise sacred government. The alleged transformation concerns the fundamental purpose for which the authority was claimed.

Prato: The Price Paid by Those Who Did Not Rule

The human consequences of dynastic restoration become appallingly clear in the Sack of Prato in August 1512.

Spanish soldiers participating in the campaign which facilitated the return of the Medici to Florence stormed the city. Guicciardini described the deaths of people who were not fighting:

“Morirno non combattendo, perché alcuno non combatté, ma o fuggendo o supplicando, piú di duemila uomini.”

“More than two thousand men died, not in combat — because no one fought — but while fleeing or pleading.”

(XI.4, p. 1043; PDF p. 1046.)

The reported death toll exceeded 2,000. Guicciardini's description is not one of combatants dying in a contested field but of inhabitants killed while escaping or begging for mercy.

Cardinal Giovanni de’ Medici (yes, that Medici family—the enormously wealthy Florentine banking dynasty, now producing princes of the Church!), the future Leo X, accompanied the campaign. Guicciardini expressly records that the cardinal protected women who had taken refuge in the principal church by arranging guards for them. This important detail must remain part of the account. The historian does not say Giovanni ordered the massacre, and the protection of those women was a real act of restraint amid atrocities committed by the allied soldiery.

But the campaign's political objective was the restoration of the Medici, and that objective was achieved amid immense suffering. The wider settlement imposed substantial financial burdens upon Florence.

Guicciardini records payments of 80,000 ducats for the army (approximately €32 million in today’s gold value), with half due immediately and the remainder within two months; 20,000 ducats for the viceroy personally; and 40,000 ducats to the king of the Romans.

The wording concerning the viceroy was:

“al viceré, per l’esercito, ottantamila, la metà di presente il rimanente fra due mesi, e per sé proprio ventimila.”

“To the viceroy, eighty thousand for the army — half immediately and the balance within two months — and twenty thousand for himself.”

(XI.4, p. 1045; PDF p. 1048.)

These reported conditions amounted to 140,000 ducats (approx 56 million euros) distributed among distinct military and political beneficiaries. They were not indulgence receipts or ecclesiastical tithes; they were burdens imposed through a political and military settlement.

Yet the people bearing those burdens were the inhabitants of a republic whose political fortunes had been altered through war. In what sense were the families who lost relatives at Prato, or the Florentines who paid the price of the settlement, beneficiaries of a programme undertaken to restore the ruling position of the Medici?

The question is not whether Giovanni de' Medici personally committed every outrage of the army. The evidence says he did not, and credits him with protecting some of its intended victims. The question is why the political advancement of a family closely connected with the highest ecclesiastical offices became entangled with warfare on such a scale.

Leo X: The Medici Family and the Commerce of Ecclesiastical Power

Giovanni de' Medici was elected pope in 1513 and took the name Leo X. Guicciardini specifically described his election as:

“senza simonia o sospetto di macula alcuna.”

“Without simony or suspicion of any stain.”

(XI.8, p. 1074; PDF p. 1077.)

That statement must be retained. It would be factually wrong to claim that Guicciardini accused Leo of buying the papacy, as he did Alexander VI. The seriousness of Leo's later actions is not diminished by distinguishing his election from his administration.

Under Leo, the relationship between papal authority and Medici family advancement emerged through appointments, territorial acquisition, military expenditure and the assignment of ecclesiastical revenues.

Conspiracy, Execution and the Price of Clemency

In 1517, Leo confronted a conspiracy associated with Cardinal Alfonso Petrucci, who was accused of plotting to poison the pope through a surgeon. Guicciardini describes evidence of communications, the involvement of other cardinals and proceedings which included severe interrogations. He also records a disputed safe-conduct given to Petrucci before his return to Rome.

Following the proceedings, Petrucci was degraded and handed over for punishment. Guicciardini wrote:

“Alfonso, la notte prossima, fu occultamente nella carcere strangolato.”

“Alfonso was secretly strangled in prison the following night.”

(XIII.7, p. 1268; PDF p. 1271.)

(Amidst all the murder, bloodshed, treachery and corruption, has anyone thought to look for the Beast yet? Or are we still waiting for him to arrive?)

Petrucci's guilt cannot simply be denied because his punishment was severe. Guicciardini presented the plot as a serious threat to Leo's life. Yet the proceedings also produced an extraordinary series of financial arrangements involving men whose ecclesiastical dignities had been compromised.

Cardinal Bandinello Sauli recovered his position following the payment of money:

“pagati certi danari, lo restituí alla degnità del cardinalato.”

“After certain monies had been paid, he restored him to the dignity of cardinal.”

(XIII.7, p. 1268; PDF p. 1271.)

Cardinal Raffaele Riario was also restored after undertaking to pay a very large sum. Adriano Castellesi and Francesco Soderini, associated with Volterra in the account, were treated differently, but Guicciardini reports further payments made quietly. The exact sums and the full individual circumstances require additional records.

The essential distinction is between punishment for alleged criminal misconduct and the monetary conditions attached to clemency and the restoration of ecclesiastical dignity. Yet even making that distinction leaves a troubling question.

Was the possession of a cardinal's dignity a matter of spiritual qualification and lawful judgment, or could money alter the treatment and restoration of those who had fallen under the pontiff's displeasure?

One man was secretly strangled; others regained their standing after financial arrangements. The evidence does not prove that every distinction between them was determined by wealth, but it does show that money entered the management of ecclesiastical punishment and restoration.

Thirty-One New Cardinals

Following the Petrucci crisis, Leo enlarged the College of Cardinals dramatically. Guicciardini records that thirty-one cardinals were created in a single consistory.

The appointments served several purposes. Some benefited relatives of the pope, including two sons of his sisters. Others rewarded servants, accommodated the nominations of princes, or recognised learned men and the heads of religious orders.

But many appointments, according to Guicciardini, were made for money:

“molti ne creò per danari, trovandosi esausto e in grandissima necessità.”

“He created many of them for money, finding himself depleted and in very great need.”

(XIII.7, pp. 1269–1270; PDF pp. 1272–1273.)

It would be inaccurate to assert that all thirty-one cardinalates were sold, since the historian expressly distinguishes several categories of appointment. He nevertheless states that many were sold because the pope needed money.

Later estimates of the financial proceeds differ substantially. The historian Ludovico Antonio Muratori reports a figure of approximately 200,000 gold ducats (approximately €80 million in today’s gold value), connected with the paid appointments, while Pasquale Villari reports an estimate of 500,000 ducats. Neither figure appears as an aggregate total in the quoted Guicciardini passage, and neither should be represented as independently established by his testimony.

The uncertainty surrounding the total does not remove the central fact asserted: ecclesiastical appointments were employed to raise revenue.

What did these purchasers believe they were acquiring? Was it an income, a voice in the government of the Church, access to political power, an honourable title, or an office supposedly conferred for the care of Christ's flock? If the appointments were genuinely spiritual, why did financial necessity increase the availability of dignities for paying candidates?

The institution had created a hierarchy in which advancement could possess considerable financial and political value. The pope, controlling access to that hierarchy, could use appointments to relieve his treasury.

That is not an accidental resemblance to commerce. It is a commercial relationship applied to an ecclesiastical dignity.

Urbino: A Duchy for the Pope's Nephew

The most revealing Medici enterprise involved Urbino, whose acquisition Leo pursued for his nephew Lorenzo de' Medici.

The duchy belonged to Francesco Maria della Rovere, who had inherited the position within a family long associated with earlier papal power. Leo's government raised charges against him, including failure to perform military obligations and the killing of Cardinal Alidosi. Those charges formed the asserted legal grounds for deprivation and cannot simply be omitted.

But Guicciardini also identified the pressure exerted by Lorenzo and his mother, Alfonsina Orsini, whose dynastic aspirations encouraged the acquisition. Not every member of the Medici family agreed: Giuliano de' Medici opposed action against a family which had assisted him during exile, while Cardinal Domenico Grimani objected to the proposed investiture.

Leo nevertheless pursued the proceedings:

“Leone, seguitando il processo cominciato, ne privò per sentenza Francesco Maria, e di poi ne investí nel concistorio Lorenzo suo nipote.”

“Leo, continuing the proceedings he had begun, deprived Francesco Maria of it by judgment, and afterward invested his nephew Lorenzo with it in consistory.”

(XII.21, p. 1223; PDF p. 1226.)

The territory was reported to yield no more than 25,000 ducats annually. Yet the seizure and the subsequent struggle for possession created an enormous military expense. When Francesco Maria attempted to recover the duchy, the resulting conflict in 1517 lasted approximately eight months.

Guicciardini recorded:

“Perché dalla parte del pontefice furono spesi ottocentomila ducati, la maggiore parte de’ quali, per la potenza che aveva in quella città, furno pagati dalla republica fiorentina.”

“For on the pope's side eight hundred thousand ducats were spent, the greater part of which, because of the power he held in that city, were paid by the Florentine republic.”

(XIII.8, pp. 1276–1277; PDF pp. 1279–1280.)

The reported total was 800,000 ducats, of which Florence bore the greater part. It was money spent upon a conflict resulting from the acquisition of a principality for the pope's relative.

The sums are staggering even before any attempt at modern valuation. Comparing 800,000 ducats with the duchy's stated annual income of 25,000 gives the equivalent of thirty-two years of that nominal income. This is not an economic calculation of actual profit or loss, since different periods, revenues and expenditures are involved. It nevertheless illustrates the magnitude of the campaign.

Guicciardini later revisited the financial burdens placed upon Florence. He attributed more than 500,000 ducats to the occupation and defence of Urbino alone:

“nella occupazione e poi nella difesa del ducato di Urbino, ducati piú di cinquecentomila.”

“In the occupation and subsequent defence of the duchy of Urbino, more than five hundred thousand ducats.”

(XVIII.10, p. 1779; PDF p. 1782.)

This later retrospective figure concerns the Florentine burden rather than the entire cost of the 1517 war and is therefore not to be added mechanically to the previous 800,000 ducats.

The same retrospective passage associates approximately another 500,000 ducats with Leo's war against France, 300,000 ducats with payments linked to imperial commanders, and more than 600,000 ducats with later conflict involving Charles V. These are different categories of expenditure over an extended period, not one audited papal account.

Yet the political pattern is clear. Florence's public resources repeatedly supported policies associated with Medici power. The family which supplied the pontiff could benefit from ecclesiastical authority, while the republic was made to bear heavy expenditure connected with the dynasty's ambitions.

By what principle of Christian stewardship should the money of a city finance the conquest of a principality for the pope's nephew? How does the office of shepherd become a legal and military instrument for creating secular rulers among the shepherd's own relatives?

If the territory was properly acquired under feudal law, that question does not disappear. The issue is precisely why a spiritual office was so extensively involved in territorial acquisition, dynastic preferment and warfare.

Two Thousand Ducats for the Gates of Ferrara

Leo's ambitions were not confined to Urbino. In 1520, Guicciardini describes an attempt to obtain access to Ferrara through a German captain named Ridolfel, who served Alfonso d'Este.

Ridolfel allegedly offered to facilitate the entry of papal forces through one of the city's gates. Guicciardini identifies a payment made through Uberto da Gambara:

“a chi per ordine del pontefice erano stati dati da Uberto da Gambara circa dumila ducati.”

“To whom, by the pope's order, about two thousand ducats had been given by Uberto da Gambara.”

(XIII.16, p. 1312; PDF p. 1315.)

The amount was approximately 2,000 ducats. Ridolfel had informed Alfonso of the plan, and the attempted operation was frustrated. The episode therefore concerns an unsuccessful covert attempt at territorial acquisition, not a completed conquest.

Once again, however, Guicciardini describes a pope employing money, deception and military organisation in pursuit of secular dominion. The title claimed for the religious ruler did not prevent him from acting according to the methods of an Italian territorial prince.

Indulgences: The Commerce of Purgatory and the Pope's Sister

Among all the transactions described by Guicciardini, the administration of indulgences under Leo X provides perhaps the most direct challenge to the commercialisation of spiritual things.

Indulgences were presented within the Roman theological system as privileges concerning temporal punishment for sins. Their collection and administration became the subject of profound controversy, particularly in Germany, where the religious disputes associated with Martin Luther gained increasing support.

Guicciardini described commissioners who obtained authority to exercise indulgence concessions through payments made to the Roman court:

“la piú parte de’ quali comperava dalla corte la facoltà di esercitarle.”

“Most of whom purchased from the court the authority to administer them.”

(XIII.15, p. 1307; PDF p. 1310.)

This describes a two-stage commercial relationship. The commissioner purchased the authority to distribute a spiritual privilege; the faithful then made payments in connection with that privilege. The first transaction supplied the right to collect. The second produced income from those seeking the purported spiritual benefit.

Guicciardini condemned the abuses associated with such collection, including reports that the privilege of liberating souls from purgatory was being offered cheaply or even gambled away in taverns. These particular instances of tavern commerce require independent corroboration, but their inclusion in the historian's account shows the scandal which such practices had provoked.

A further allegation was even more directly connected with the Medici family.

Guicciardini wrote that Leo:

“donò a Maddalena sua sorella lo emolumento e l’esazione delle indulgenze di molte parti di Germania.”

“Gave to his sister Maddalena the proceeds and collection of indulgences in many parts of Germany.”

(XIII.15, p. 1307; PDF p. 1310.)

Read that again! Indulgences were sold to "supposedly" relieve souls suffering in purgatory, yet the proceeds went to the pope’s own sister!

“Through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you” (2 Peter 2:3, KJV).

The administration was associated with Bishop Arcimboldo, whom Guicciardini accused of avarice and extortion. According to his narrative, resentment increased because the money collected in the affected regions was believed to be destined not for the pope or the Apostolic Camera, where at least some might have been employed for public purposes, but for the benefit of Maddalena.

The original financial concession and the subsequent remittance records have not been independently verified in the two dossiers, so the precise allocation remains Guicciardini's testimony rather than a fully reconstructed banking transaction. Nor does the text say that every indulgence payment made anywhere in Germany reached Maddalena. It specifies many regions.

Even with that limitation, the accusation is exceptionally serious. Spiritual privileges, presented to believers in connection with suffering, forgiveness and the dead, were allegedly providing income for the pope's sister.

If a commission concerning the spiritual hopes of the faithful could be purchased from the court, and its proceeds assigned to a member of the ruling family, where exactly did the care of souls end and the ownership of a revenue stream begin?

How could the gift of God become something administered through purchased commercial concessions? How could the fears of ordinary Christians concerning the fate of their departed relatives become an opportunity for financial advantage?

Guicciardini was deeply hostile to much of Luther's later theology. Yet he acknowledged the scandal caused by these practices. His criticism of the indulgence traffic therefore cannot simply be dismissed as Protestant propaganda. A historian who defended the religious authority of Rome nevertheless described a financial practice which made that authority detestable to many of those subjected to it.

The importance of this evidence is heightened by Leo's deteriorating finances. On his death, the papal treasury was burdened with debts and encumbrances. Guicciardini says that jewels had been pledged and that the creation of revenue-producing offices had diminished the Church's future income:

“con diminuzione di quarantamila ducati di entrata annua della Chiesa.”

“With a reduction of forty thousand ducats in the Church's annual revenue.”

(XIV.11, p. 1386; PDF p. 1389.)

In other words, the sale or creation of offices could provide immediate receipts at the expense of future income. Guicciardini's account identifies a reduction of 40,000 ducats every year.

This is the logic of spending tomorrow's revenues to meet today's financial needs. The ecclesiastical institution did not merely possess wealth; it could create and distribute offices with financial value, use future revenues as an asset and suffer the consequences when extraordinary spending exhausted available resources.

A church whose head claimed authority over the spiritual welfare of Christendom had come to operate through mechanisms familiar from secular government: debt, mortgages, revenue concessions, patronage and the sale of offices.

The questions which Jesus and the apostles raised concerning the sale of sacred things were therefore not remote from the political economy of Renaissance Rome. They reached into its very financial structure.

Clement VII: Electoral Bargains, Armed Reprisals and Ecclesiastical Revenue as Security

Leo's successor, Adrian VI, occupied the pontificate only briefly. Guicciardini treated the cardinals' subsequent explanations of his unexpected election, including appeals to the Holy Spirit, with scepticism. His criticism was directed at the contrast between their ambitious calculations and the suggestion that the result could simply be credited to divine inspiration.

In 1523, Giulio de' Medici became Clement VII. Guicciardini attributed a decisive part of the election to a secret bargain with Cardinal Pompeo Colonna.

The bargain concerned the vice-chancellorship and a splendid Roman palace previously associated with Cardinal Riario. Guicciardini states that Giulio made his undertaking in writing:

“per una cedola di mano propria, secretissimamente gli promesse l’officio della vicecancelleria.”

“By a note in his own hand, in the utmost secrecy, he promised him the office of vice-chancellor.”

(XV.6, p. 1462; PDF p. 1465.)

Colonna then helped bring further electors to Giulio's side. The reported autograph undertaking has not been independently inspected, so the promise remains the testimony of Guicciardini rather than a surviving document reproduced in these dossiers.

The historian also mentions speculation about additional financial advantages, but those conjectures should not be confused with the specific reported promise. The identifiable transaction is already significant enough: an ecclesiastical office and valuable palace were offered in exchange for electoral support.

One might ask how often the Church's most powerful offices could change hands before the underlying claim of purely spiritual appointment became impossible to maintain without serious qualification.

Under Clement, as under his predecessors, the political interests of the pontiff were inseparable from the struggles of Italian rulers. In 1526, following an armed attack upon papal Rome associated with the Colonna family, Clement pursued reprisals against their possessions.

Guicciardini described the pope's intention:

“disegnando di abbruciare e fare spianare tutte le terre loro.”

“Intending to burn and level all their territories.”

(XVII.15, p. 1715; PDF p. 1718.)

The papal forces burned Marino and Montefortino and demolished Gallicano and Zagarolo. Clement also deprived Cardinal Pompeo Colonna of his ecclesiastical dignity.

These were reprisals within an open political and military conflict, not an attack launched without any previous provocation. Yet that context does not remove the importance of the fact that a pontiff claiming to represent Christ employed the armed machinery of territorial punishment and ecclesiastical degradation against his opponents.

Were these actions the duties of a high priest, or the methods of a sovereign defending his temporal state? The distinction was increasingly difficult to maintain, because the same office combined the authority to impose spiritual penalties with the power to conduct war.

Three Cardinalates Sold as Rome Approached Disaster

The crisis reached its dreadful culmination in 1527, when imperial troops advanced upon Rome.

As the danger became imminent, Clement sought money for defence through the creation of new cardinals. Guicciardini wrote with devastating simplicity:

“creò per danari tre cardinali.”

“He created three cardinals for money.”

(XVIII.8, p. 1764; PDF p. 1767.)

The historian adds that the payments did not arrive in time to help meet the military emergency. It would therefore be false to describe the promised amounts as money certainly received and successfully spent upon the defence. The attempted sale, however, is explicit.

Even at the point when Rome faced invasion, ecclesiastical dignity was a financial resource which could be offered in exchange for money.

What was the nature of an office that could be created and sold in response to an approaching army? Was the number of men divinely called to such dignities determined by spiritual need, or by the need to raise cash?

The subsequent Sack of Rome was a catastrophe in which Clement himself and the inhabitants of the city became victims of imperial forces. It would be historically indefensible to count the plunder committed by those soldiers as theft personally ordered by Clement. The violence, ransom demands and destruction also cannot be identified as a demonstrable act of divine judgment merely because they followed ecclesiastical corruption.

But the disaster exposed how deeply the Roman court was bound to the military and financial system of European rulers.

Clement's captivity required substantial payments, and the arrangements for obtaining them involved merchants and ecclesiastical revenue. Guicciardini described efforts to raise the first 150,000 ducats, including:

“partiti fatti con mercatanti genovesi sopra le decime del regno di Napoli e sopra la vendita di Benevento.”

“Arrangements made with Genoese merchants secured on the tithes of the kingdom of Naples and the sale of Benevento.”

(XVIII.12, p. 1788; PDF p. 1791.)

Here the merchants appear directly in the financial mechanism. Papal agents sought funds through agreements involving Genoese financiers, with the tithes of Naples and the prospective disposal of Benevento serving as sources of security or repayment.

The pope was a prisoner under coercive conditions, not merely a wealthy ruler borrowing for personal indulgence. That distinction is necessary. Nevertheless, the arrangement reveals how ecclesiastical revenues and territorial possessions could be pledged within the financial markets of Renaissance politics.

The financial rights attached to the Church were treated as assets supporting large obligations. Tithes, ecclesiastical income and territorial rights were capable of being incorporated into commercial credit.

This is an important distinction in the investigation of Revelation's merchants. A merchant did not need to stand within a church building selling holy objects in order to profit from ecclesiastical power. The financial apparatus could involve bankers, lenders, commissioners, officeholders, military suppliers and rulers exchanging legal rights over revenues.

The two research dossiers do not establish a complete banking syndicate or identify every account through which the money passed. They do, however, identify concrete arrangements demonstrating that ecclesiastical income was entangled with the wider machinery of state finance.

Barcelona: Kings, Bishoprics and the Restoration of a Dynasty

In 1529, Clement concluded arrangements with Charles V in connection with the Treaty of Barcelona. These formed part of a settlement concerning Italian affairs, the Papal States, imperial interests and the restoration of Medici authority in Florence.

The agreements involved a remarkable combination of temporal and ecclesiastical provisions. Guicciardini describes the recovery of papal territories, political cooperation, the investiture of Naples, dynastic marriage negotiations and ecclesiastical privileges granted to the emperor.

One provision concerned appointment rights over twenty-four cathedral churches:

“e gli conceda la nominazione di ventiquattro chiese cattedrali.”

“And grant him the nomination to twenty-four cathedral churches.”

(XIX.11, pp. 1898–1900; PDF pp. 1901–1903.)

Other arrangements concerned one quarter of revenues from certain benefices for defence against the Turks, a renewed crusade-related concession, and the absolution of offenders against the Apostolic See. The proposed dynastic marriage settlement also involved an annual income of 20,000 ducats.

These are separate rights and financial quantities. Twenty-four cathedral nominations were not twenty-four bishoprics proven to have been sold for cash, and a projected annual income of 20,000 ducats was not a lump-sum payment for ecclesiastical office. The distinctions matter because a treaty combining legitimate political negotiation with ecclesiastical privileges cannot be reduced to a fictitious ledger of bribes.

Yet the fundamental nature of the arrangement remains striking. Appointment rights in the ecclesiastical hierarchy formed part of negotiations between a pope and an emperor, while the pope's family stood to benefit from imperial assistance.

The agreement also contemplated coordinated measures against religious dissent, combining papal spiritual action with the armed power of rulers. The same diplomatic structure which negotiated territories and revenues could address the enforcement of religious conformity.

When the nomination of bishops becomes a term in a political treaty, whose authority determines the shepherds of Christ's people: the Holy Ghost, or the settlement negotiated by princes?

A defender of papal government might argue that the appointment of bishops had long been entangled with secular authority and required practical accommodation. That explanation may describe the historical circumstances; it does not settle the scriptural question. The apostles did not teach that a Christian ruler acquired authority over the flock by obtaining nomination privileges through diplomatic exchange.

Florence Restored to the Medici: The Cost of Clemency

Following the surrender of Florence in 1530, the promise of an amnesty became a matter of bitter dispute.

Guicciardini describes how an undertaking to forgive offences against the pope and his friends was interpreted narrowly, allowing punishment for offences characterised as being against the republic itself. In his assessment, the words of the settlement were preserved while their intended protection was evaded.

He attributed the direction of this policy principally to Clement's intention, known to only a few, and recorded the punishments:

“ne furono decapitati sei de’ principali, altri incarcerati e relegatine grandissimo numero.”

“Six of the leading men were beheaded, others imprisoned, and a very large number banished.”

(XX.2, pp. 1938–1939; PDF pp. 1941–1942.)

Six men were executed, while many others were imprisoned or exiled. The resulting political order strengthened Medici power in a city already exhausted by conflict and severe economic pressure.

The text does not reproduce a secret papal instruction ordering each execution, and the defendants cannot automatically be classified as innocent martyrs. Guicciardini nevertheless explicitly connected the repression with the restoration of a government approaching the absolute authority of a hereditary prince.

Florence had borne immense military expenditure in connection with Medici enterprises. It had experienced sack, political upheaval, siege and a succession of imposed settlements. Now the restoration of the ruling family was accompanied by executions, imprisonment and banishment.

At what point does the spiritual mission of an ecclesiastical ruler disappear entirely beneath the demands of dynastic sovereignty? If restoring the power of relatives requires armies, coerced settlements and the execution of political opponents, how is the enterprise distinguished from the ambitions of any secular dynasty?

Guicciardini's subsequent judgment on Clement's intentions was severe. He accused the pope of pursuing not simply the restoration of moderate government, as had been publicly claimed, but:

“la cupidità di farla tornare nella tirannide de’ suoi.”

“The desire to bring it back under the tyranny of his own family.”

(XX.3, p. 1941; PDF p. 1944.)

This is Guicciardini's assessment of political motivation, not a private confession by Clement. But it comes from a historian who had served the Medici administration and was familiar with the realities of Florentine politics.

The Roman Court: An Apparatus for Extracting Money

The final books of Storia d’Italia move beyond individual transactions and examine the broader grievances against the financial and administrative system of the Roman court.

Around 1530–1531, demands for ecclesiastical reform were widespread in Germany. Guicciardini observed that the desire for a council was not confined to Lutherans. People who continued to hold Catholic opinions also sought relief from the burdens and abuses of the Roman administration.

The historian enumerated the means by which money was obtained: indulgences, dispensations, annates, charges incurred in the administration of benefices, and the expenses associated with the numerous offices of the curia.

Annates were payments associated with the revenues of ecclesiastical benefices, often involving income from their first year. Dispensations could involve payments for privileges or exceptions granted by ecclesiastical authority. The multiplication of offices produced additional administrative channels through which fees and resources could be collected.

Guicciardini wrote of the Roman court:

“con volere l’annate de’ benefizi che si conferivano, e con le spese che nella espedizione d’essi si facevano negli uffizi tanto moltiplicati di quella corte.”

“By demanding the annates of the benefices being conferred, and through the expenses incurred in processing them in the greatly multiplied offices of that court.”

He went further:

“pareva che non attendesse ad altro se non a esigere, con questa arte, quantità grande di denari da tutta la cristianità.”

“It seemed to be concerned with nothing except extracting, by this method, great amounts of money from all Christendom.”

(XX.3, p. 1940; PDF p. 1943.)

The word “pareva”, “it seemed,” is important. Guicciardini was describing a prevailing judgment about an administrative system, not presenting a complete audited statement proving that no money was ever used for good purposes.

His complaint nevertheless extended beyond excessive charges. He criticised the concentration of incompatible benefices in individual hands and the distribution of offices to persons favoured through connections rather than merit. He referred to candidates unsuitable because of youth, ignorance or scandalous conduct.

This was not simply a criticism of wealthy churchmen possessing expensive clothing or magnificent buildings. This was not the care of souls; it was the buying and selling of religious power, with sacred offices treated as merchandise and the faithful as a source of wealth. But our souls have already been redeemed by the blood of Christ! By what authority did these men presume to sell spiritual privileges when salvation was purchased at a price no amount of gold could ever pay?

The contrast could scarcely be sharper. Christ spoke of shepherds who care for the sheep. Guicciardini described an administrative apparatus whose critics believed it was drawing immense sums from Christendom while failing to attend adequately to the spiritual welfare of the people supporting it.

A voluntary gift made for an identifiable religious purpose is not the same thing as a bribe or an extortionate charge. Nor does every historical ecclesiastical tax prove theft. But the specific transactions described throughout this investigation reveal far more than the ordinary costs of administering a religious community.

They reveal votes exchanged for offices, dignities granted to paying candidates, spiritual concessions sold to commissioners, indulgence revenues directed towards relatives, and the privileges of ecclesiastical jurisdiction employed in political and territorial struggles.

Was the institution maintained by the willing generosity of Christ's people, or had it developed financial powers which made those people a permanent source of revenue? And where an ecclesiastical office could be bought, who was being served by the appointment: the community requiring pastoral care, or the man who had paid for advancement?

Why Clement Feared a Council

The same chapter provides an unusually revealing account of Clement VII's reluctance to summon a general council. 🤔

Guicciardini presents several possible fears. A council might restrict the discretionary powers of the papacy, reform abuses, investigate questions concerning Clement's eligibility for office, or examine the political injuries inflicted upon Florence. The historian also mentions suspicion concerning the circumstances of Clement's election and the dealings with Cardinal Colonna.

The alleged simony remained a suspicion, not a conclusive judicial finding. But Guicciardini's account identifies why independent ecclesiastical scrutiny might threaten the power and reputation of the Roman court.

Clement offered practical objections to a council, including the instability of relations between Christian rulers and the danger that religious divisions might be worsened. Such concerns were not inherently irrational. Yet Guicciardini interpreted his reluctance as substantially influenced by the possibility that reform would reduce papal authority or expose damaging conduct.

If a ruler professes responsibility for the spiritual welfare of Christians, should an examination of abuses be regarded as an enemy of his office or as a necessary safeguard for the people entrusted to him?

The legitimacy of a shepherd's authority cannot be measured only by whether he can prevent others from questioning it.

The Advancement of Alessandro Farnese

Following Clement's death in 1534, Alessandro Farnese was "elected" as Pope Paul III.

Guicciardini described him as a man of learning and apparent propriety who had exercised the cardinalate more respectably than he had originally obtained it. His judgment about the earlier advancement was pointed:

“è certo che il pontefice Alessandro sesto aveva conceduta quella degnità non a lui ma a madonna Giulia sua sorella, giovane di forma eccellentissima.”

“It is certain that Pope Alexander VI had conferred that dignity not upon him but upon Lady Giulia, his sister, a young woman of extraordinary beauty.”

(XX.7, p. 1959; PDF p. 1962.)

Guicciardini's language is a pointed allegation of advancement through the influence of Farnese's sister Giulia, closely associated with Alexander VI. It is not a claim that Giulia legally occupied the cardinalate, nor does it independently prove every allegation concerning her personal relationship with Alexander.

Its significance lies in the historian's depiction of another mechanism through which ecclesiastical dignity could be influenced by favour and personal relationships rather than pastoral merit.

Placed alongside purchased appointments, family preferment and political nomination, the episode reveals the variety of worldly interests which could affect advancement in the ecclesiastical hierarchy.

The narrative also contains other troubling reports of violence and suspected poisoning involving powerful families, including the later deaths of members of the Medici dynasty. Guicciardini's retrospective references to suspicions concerning Ippolito de' Medici and the murder of Alessandro de' Medici by his relative Lorenzo must not be collapsed into a single proven conspiracy. The suspicion of poisoning is not forensic proof.

The same evidentiary restraint is necessary regarding sorcery. The text contains rumours about charms or magical interference attributed to Ludovico Sforza, together with stories of prodigies, omens and prophetic warnings. These do not establish that the Roman pontiffs practised ritual magic or necromancy. The historical case must stand upon the crimes and financial mechanisms which the surviving testimony can actually support.

Guicciardini's Own Verdict: Spiritual Authority Made the Servant of Temporal Power

Perhaps the most comprehensive indictment in Storia d’Italia appears not in the account of one particular pope, but in Guicciardini's historical examination of how Roman pontiffs accumulated temporal dominion.

In Book IV, chapter 12, he describes the gradual expansion of their worldly power and the alteration of their priorities. He writes that they came to use spiritual authority:

“né usando piú l’autorità spirituale se non per instrumento e ministerio della temporale.”

“No longer using spiritual authority except as the instrument and servant of temporal authority.”

(IV.12, p. 414; PDF p. 417.)

This phrase identifies the central problem exposed by the historical incidents examined above. Religious authority had become the instrument of another objective. Instead of worldly resources serving a spiritual ministry, spiritual power was being employed to accomplish worldly purposes.

Guicciardini continued with a remarkable catalogue of activities which he regarded as incompatible with the proper work of a pontiff. Their concerns, he said, had become armies, wars against Christians and the accumulation of treasure:

“ma accumulazione di tesoro, nuove leggi nuove arti nuove insidie per raccorre da ogni parte danari; usare a questo fine senza rispetto l’armi spirituali, vendere a questo fine senza vergogna le cose sacre e le profane.”

“But the accumulation of treasure, new laws, new devices and new stratagems for gathering money from every direction; using spiritual weapons without restraint for this purpose, and selling sacred and secular things without shame.”

(IV.12, p. 414; PDF p. 417.)

He went on to criticise luxury, immoral conduct and the advancement of children, nephews and other relatives to extraordinary riches, principalities and kingdoms. His accusations concerned not merely the personal failings of individual rulers but the conversion of an entire sphere of religious government towards temporal ambitions.

Guicciardini acknowledged that indignation over public suffering had carried his language beyond the restraint he considered appropriate to historical writing. That admission is important: his passage is a forceful historical and moral judgment, not a neutral statistical survey. Its universals must not be transformed into claims that every appointment or every official was corrupt.

Nevertheless, the specific transactions already examined show that his indignation did not arise in a vacuum.

There were purchased votes, identifiable beneficiaries, sold cardinalates, revenues directed towards dynastic campaigns, cities threatened with spiritual penalties, territories acquired for relatives, named prisoners strangled, and very large sums imposed upon communities whose resources were directed towards the advancement of ruling families.

If those actions were carried out by ordinary secular princes, would anyone mistake them for the ministry of Jesus Christ? Why, then, should the possession of ecclesiastical titles automatically transform the same actions into the exercise of sacred authority?

The Forged Donation and the Growth of Roman Power

Guicciardini's account of the development of papal territorial dominion also brings us to one of the most consequential documents employed in the historical defence of Roman power: the Donation of Constantine.

The text purported to record extraordinary grants made by Emperor Constantine to Pope Sylvester, including rights, honours and territorial authority which later writers used to support claims concerning the Roman Church and its temporal possessions.

The document was a medieval fabrication, probably composed after the middle of the eighth century. In the fifteenth century, Lorenzo Valla famously exposed its weaknesses through historical and linguistic criticism in De falso credita et ementita Constantini donatione.

Guicciardini himself rejected the account of Constantine's supposed transfer of Rome and extensive territories to the pontiffs:

“è dagli autori piú probabili riprovata, e molto piú dalle cose stesse.”

“It is rejected by the more credible authors, and still more by the facts themselves.”

(IV.12, p. 405; PDF p. 408.)

The significance of this admission should not be minimised. A document purporting to establish ancient imperial grants to the Roman pontiffs could not withstand historical examination. The claim to those particular gifts was supported by an invented account of the past.

Another important body of fabricated ecclesiastical authority was the Pseudo-Isidorian Decretals, substantially assembled in the ninth century, probably in the Frankish territories associated with the Reims ecclesiastical province and the manuscript traditions of Corbie. This collection mixed genuine material with forged early papal letters and altered legal texts.

Its immediate concerns included the protection of bishops against irregular prosecution and excessive intervention by metropolitan authorities. Appeals to Rome served an important role within that framework. In later centuries, the materials could also be employed to support broader claims about Roman jurisdiction and ecclesiastical government.

The Donation and the Pseudo-Isidorian Decretals were distinct forgeries with different origins and functions. They did not create Christianity or the entire Roman episcopate, and Guicciardini did not himself undertake a study of Pseudo-Isidore in the passages examined here. Nor does their existence prove that every later person relying upon their authority knew them to be false.

But their historical importance is profound.

If an institution claims that Christ established a particular authority, why should the defence of that authority require documents falsely attributed to earlier centuries? Where genuinely apostolic authority exists, ought it not to withstand examination against the actual testimony of Christ and his apostles?

The relevant question is not whether every Roman claim originated in forgery. It is whether later claims to jurisdiction and temporal supremacy can establish an authentic divine mandate through documents which falsely represent their own antiquity.

Indeed, Guicciardini himself recognised Peter as the first Roman pontiff and described the spiritual authority of the pontiffs as "founded by Jesus Christ": “fondata da Giesú Cristo l’autorità loro nelle cose spirituali” (IV.12, p. 403; PDF p. 406).

WHERE?

That statement must not be hidden. Guicciardini accepted the historical and theological understanding of papal authority current in his own tradition. His account is evidence for how that authority was understood and exercised; it is not proof that Christ personally instituted the complete system of Roman succession and universal jurisdiction.

The claim itself must still be tested against Scripture.

Babylon, Her Merchants and the Souls of Men

The historical record now brings us to the language of Revelation, not because Guicciardini explicitly identified the papacy as Babylon — he did not — but because the commercial and political practices he described invite a grave comparison with the system condemned in the biblical text.

Revelation 18:3 declares:

“For all nations have drunk of the wine of the wrath of her fornication, and the kings of the earth have committed fornication with her, and the merchants of the earth are waxed rich through the abundance of her delicacies.”

The chapter proceeds to describe merchants lamenting the ruin of an enormously wealthy commercial power:

“And the merchants of the earth shall weep and mourn over her; for no man buyeth their merchandise any more.” — Revelation 18:11

The catalogue is extraordinarily comprehensive. It includes:

“The merchandise of gold, and silver, and precious stones, and of pearls, and fine linen, and purple, and silk, and scarlet, and all thyine wood, and all manner vessels of ivory, and all manner vessels of most precious wood, and of brass, and iron, and marble,

And cinnamon, and odours, and ointments, and frankincense, and wine, and oil, and fine flour, and wheat, and beasts, and sheep, and horses, and chariots, and slaves, and souls of men.” — Revelation 18:12–13

The passage presents an immense network of wealth, political power, luxury, trade and human exploitation. Precious metals, jewels, textiles, expensive furnishings, building materials, spices, food, livestock and transport all belong to its economic world. At the end of the inventory appear slaves and the lives of human beings.

Not every item can be individually connected to a corrupt papal transaction in the evidence examined here. The presence of gold, jewels, silk, marble or horses in a wealthy Renaissance court would not by itself identify that court as the Babylon of prophecy. Such goods were used throughout the commercial world.

Guicciardini does describe considerable movable wealth, splendid palaces, papal jewels pledged as security, ecclesiastical revenues, military provisioning and the financing of dynastic campaigns. Those features place the Roman court firmly within the world of rulers, commerce, creditors and material luxury, but the stronger parallels concern the mechanisms by which authority, wealth and human beings were treated as instruments of power.

We have seen a captive prince whose detention was associated with a recurring payment of 40,000 ducats; a papal monitory authorising the seizure of Venetian property and the enslavement of persons; ecclesiastical offices awarded through monetary bargains; and spiritual privileges administered through concessions purchased by commissioners.

These are not all the same kind of transaction, nor do they establish that indulgences were literally the sale of human souls. Revelation's reference to “slaves, and souls of men” appears within a commercial inventory whose immediate meaning concerns human beings treated as merchandise.

But the broader moral parallel cannot be ignored. Human beings become sources of value for those who control their circumstances, their labour, their liberty or their religious expectations.

Peter's warning is therefore of particular importance:

“And through covetousness shall they with feigned words make merchandise of you: whose judgment now of a long time lingereth not, and their damnation slumbereth not.” — 2 Peter 2:3

Read with verses 1–2, this is a warning about false teachers whose destructive practices dishonour the truth. The historical evidence of financial greed does not independently establish every doctrinal accusation contained in the passage. Yet the warning concerning covetous exploitation provides a powerful test of religious leaders who turn their supposed authority into revenue.

The Roman court did not merely collect voluntary offerings. Guicciardini describes the purchase of ecclesiastical advancement, the sale of indulgence administration rights, payments attached to the restoration of cardinal dignity, and the financial use of ecclesiastical privileges and offices. These are precisely the kinds of practices which compel us to distinguish between serving believers and making believers profitable.

The final verses of Revelation 18 bring the charge of deceptive influence into sharper focus:

“For thy merchants were the great men of the earth; for by thy sorceries were all nations deceived.” — Revelation 18:23

Revelation 9:21 likewise speaks of people who refused to repent:

“Neither repented they of their murders, nor of their sorceries, nor of their fornication, nor of their thefts.”

These passages should be read seriously, but not manipulated to manufacture evidence. The research of Guicciardini's twenty books did not establish a substantial case of papal necromancy, spell-casting or ritual sorcery (evidence for that comes next). A rumour about magical charms, a story of poison, or an example of superstition is not proof that the papal court conducted occult rites. Nor may the alleged crimes of one individual automatically be attributed to an entire institution.

What the historical evidence does establish is a record of commercially influenced appointments, coercive religious government, dynastic ambition, violent political conduct and a financial system criticised by contemporaries for exploiting Christendom.

A theological interpretation may argue that such practices resemble the moral and political features of Babylon. But the precise prophetic identity of Babylon remains an interpretive question requiring consideration of Revelation 17–18 as a whole.

The historical accusation is powerful enough without forcing every element of the prophecy into a preconceived conclusion.

The essential question remains: when religious rulers gain wealth and power through the confidence which believers place in sacred offices and spiritual promises, are they ministering the freedom purchased by Christ, or making merchandise of those whom he redeemed?

The Living Temple Cannot Be Owned by Its Merchants

There is another difficulty for any system which claims that access to God depends upon an earthly religious hierarchy possessing uniquely transmissible sacred power.

Jesus told the Samaritan woman:

“Woman, believe me, the hour cometh, when ye shall neither in this mountain, nor yet at Jerusalem, worship the Father.” — John 4:21

He continued:

“God is a Spirit: and they that worship him must worship him in spirit and in truth.” — John 4:24

The apostles did not teach that Christ's departure required the establishment of a new earthly sanctuary at Rome, or that the presence of God would become concentrated in the authority of its bishop.

Paul declared:

“God that made the world and all things therein, seeing that he is Lord of heaven and earth, dwelleth not in temples made with hands.” — Acts 17:24

And to the Corinthians:

“Know ye not that ye are the temple of God, and that the Spirit of God dwelleth in you?” — 1 Corinthians 3:16

Peter likewise described believers themselves as the spiritual house of God:

“Ye also, as lively stones, are built up a spiritual house, an holy priesthood, to offer up spiritual sacrifices, acceptable to God by Jesus Christ.” — 1 Peter 2:5

These passages do not prohibit Christians from meeting in buildings or providing for legitimate ministry. They do, however, destroy the assumption that God's saving presence can be possessed by an earthly capital or transferred through control of its offices and wealth.

If God's temple is his people, what becomes of a hierarchy which treats those people as the source of revenue required to sustain its own temporal power?

Christ does not depend upon the sale of cardinalates, the extraction of annates, the assignment of indulgence revenues, the acquisition of territories, or the collection of money secured against the future income of believers.

The New Testament nowhere suggests that the price of retaining Christ's presence among his people is the maintenance of an earthly religious principality.

That brings the investigation to its most fundamental question.

Christ Never Vacated His Office: The Claim to an Earthly Vicar Examined

It is not sufficient to condemn the misconduct of the Renaissance pontiffs while leaving the institution's foundational claim entirely unexamined. A man may behave wickedly while occupying a legitimate office; therefore, corruption alone does not logically prove that the office itself was never established by Christ.

The stronger question is whether Jesus Christ actually instituted the permanent Roman office whose occupants claimed to govern his entire Church as his earthly vicars.

The answer must begin not with the powers which later pontiffs claimed, the ceremonies surrounding their election, the forgeries used to enlarge their jurisdiction, or the assumption that the passing of many centuries converts an institution into a divine command. It must begin with the distinction the New Testament makes between the priesthood of the former covenant and the everlasting priesthood of Jesus Christ.

God appointed earthly representatives under the former covenant because that covenant possessed an earthly sanctuary, a mortal priesthood and a ministry which passed from one generation to another through death. Its priests could not remain in office indefinitely. Their ministries necessarily ended because their lives ended.

But the entire argument of Hebrews is that Christ brought that order to its fulfilment, not that he transferred its authority to a new dynasty of religious rulers.

The distinction is stated with exceptional clarity:

“And they truly were many priests, because they were not suffered to continue by reason of death: But this man, because he continueth ever, hath an unchangeable priesthood.” — Hebrews 7:23–24

This passage does not merely declare Christ to be a superior high priest among other high priests. It explains why his priesthood differs fundamentally from the old.

Death made succession necessary under the Law; death has no power to remove Christ from his office.

The former priests were many because they could not continue. Christ possesses an unchangeable priesthood because he continues forever. If his priesthood is permanent, what succession could replace him? If he remains alive, what vacancy has arisen? If the very purpose of the former succession was to overcome the mortality of those who served, why should the immortal High Priest require a continuing succession of mortal men to occupy his place?

Hebrews continues:

“Wherefore he is able also to save them to the uttermost that come unto God by him, seeing he ever liveth to make intercession for them.” — Hebrews 7:25

He ever liveth. He does not intercede for a limited period before yielding the office to another. He does not disappear from the spiritual government of his people. He is neither absent nor incapable of fulfilling his ministry.

Nor did Christ tell his disciples that his departure would leave his Church without his presence until another earthly head could be appointed.

He promised:

“I will not leave you comfortless: I will come to you.” — John 14:18

He promised the Holy Ghost, whom the Father would send in his name, to teach his people and bring his words to their remembrance (John 14:26). And following his resurrection, he declared:

“Lo, I am with you alway, even unto the end of the world.” — Matthew 28:20

If Christ himself remains present, if he continues forever in his priesthood, if he has promised his Spirit to the Church, and if he makes intercession for those who come to God through him, what essential office of his remains unoccupied?

Scripture identifies the mediator explicitly:

“For there is one God, and one mediator between God and men, the man Christ Jesus.” — 1 Timothy 2:5

It identifies the head of the Church:

“And hath put all things under his feet, and gave him to be the head over all things to the church, Which is his body, the fulness of him that filleth all in all.” — Ephesians 1:22–23

And again:

“And he is the head of the body, the church.” — Colossians 1:18

The New Testament does not describe Christ's headship as an office temporarily exercised until a Roman bishop assumes its earthly administration. It identifies Christ himself as the continuing Head.

If Christ is the living Head of his body, what authority can establish a second universal head over that same body?

A Catholic defence will respond that a vicar is a subordinate representative rather than a replacement for Christ, and that the unique saving mediation of Jesus does not exclude the appointment of human ministers. The existence of teachers, elders and overseers in the New Testament supports the latter distinction. Christ did appoint servants to minister to his Church.

But that does not establish the much larger proposition that one particular bishop, governing from Rome, inherits a unique and universal jurisdiction over all Christians by divine appointment.

That is precisely the claim which requires proof.

The Keys Given to Peter Are Not a Roman Throne

The principal scriptural defence of papal authority begins with Matthew 16:18–19, where Christ speaks to Peter concerning the rock, the Church and the keys of the kingdom of heaven.

Whatever interpretation one adopts concerning the rock, Christ's words plainly confer a responsibility upon Peter (Peter’s authority was apostolic, not episcopal; it was conferred personally by Christ upon an apostle, not upon a bishop of Rome, and therefore could not be inherited through episcopal succession) . They do not, however, explicitly identify the bishop of Rome, establish a hereditary or institutional succession of universal pontiffs, or declare that every believer must submit his conscience to a particular Roman office.

Moreover, Christ elsewhere spoke to the disciples collectively concerning binding and loosing (Matthew 18:18). Following the resurrection, he commissioned them to go forth in his name (John 20:21–23). The responsibility to proclaim, teach, shepherd and exercise discipline was not presented as the private possession of a political capital.

In Luke 22:31–32, Jesus prayed particularly for Peter, instructing him to strengthen his brethren after his own restoration. In John 21:15–17, he commanded Peter to feed his lambs and sheep. These are substantial pastoral responsibilities, but the commands concern service to Christ's flock, not the transfer of Christ's everlasting priesthood or universal headship to a future Roman monarchy.

The question remains: where does Christ say that Peter's pastoral commission will pass to the bishops of Rome as an office possessing supreme jurisdiction over the entire Church?

Where does he establish the method by which this universal authority is to be transmitted? Where does he define a College of Cardinals as electors of his earthly representative? Where does he authorise the office to confer territorial dominion, distribute bishoprics as diplomatic privileges, or place entire communities under spiritual penalties as a means of obtaining political concessions?

The absence of an explicit New Testament institution of the later Roman vicariate is not remedied by pointing to the fact that Christians subsequently developed systems of government and episcopal succession. Historical development must not be confused with a directly recorded command of Christ.

By what conceivable reasoning would Christ establish the universal seat of His Church in Rome—the very power that crucified Him and later shed the blood of His followers? Are we seriously expected to believe that Christ entrusted supreme authority over His people to the city whose imperial rulers persecuted and slaughtered them? Where did Christ ever declare that the seat of His persecutors would become the throne of His Church?

Peter's own testimony is particularly revealing. Addressing the elders, he instructed them to feed the flock of God, willingly and without seeking dishonest gain:

“Neither as being lords over God's heritage, but being ensamples to the flock.” — 1 Peter 5:3

He then identified the one to whom the shepherds remained accountable:

“And when the chief Shepherd shall appear, ye shall receive a crown of glory that fadeth not away.” — 1 Peter 5:4

Peter did not present himself as the supreme earthly monarch of God's heritage. He described the responsibility of elders, warned them against domination and identified Christ as the chief Shepherd.

How can his instruction not to lord over God's heritage be reconciled without qualification with a later history in which pontiffs claimed political submission, conducted wars, exercised temporal sovereignty and sometimes employed ecclesiastical penalties to defend territorial interests?

The Roman claim must be tested against Peter's words, not used to silence them.

The Royal Priesthood and the Opened Veil

The New Testament makes an even more radical statement about the relationship between redeemed believers and God.

Peter wrote:

“But ye are a chosen generation, a royal priesthood, an holy nation, a peculiar people; that ye should shew forth the praises of him who hath called you out of darkness into his marvellous light.” — 1 Peter 2:9

The apostle did not describe the redeemed as a spiritual population whose access to God depended upon an indispensable earthly high priest. He described them as a holy and royal priesthood, called to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable through Jesus Christ.

This teaching agrees with the argument of Hebrews concerning the sanctuary and the sacrifice of the Son of God.

“Having therefore, brethren, boldness to enter into the holiest by the blood of Jesus, By a new and living way, which he hath consecrated for us, through the veil, that is to say, his flesh.” — Hebrews 10:19–20

The veil has been opened through Christ's flesh. The believer's access rests upon the blood of Jesus, not upon the permission of an earthly pontiff. The sacrifice has been accomplished; the mediator continues; the High Priest remains alive.

Paul makes the same principle clear:

“For through him we both have access by one Spirit unto the Father.” — Ephesians 2:18

Through him. By one Spirit. Unto the Father.

The passage does not establish an additional indispensable intermediary occupying a Roman office.

This is not an argument that the Church has no pastors, elders, teachers or overseers. Ephesians 4 expressly acknowledges ministries given for the edification of the body of Christ. The Holy Ghost distributes gifts and the Church requires mutual service, instruction and discipline.

But ministries which Christ gives to his body are not the same thing as a universal earthly office which claims to stand in the place of the living Head. No minister may become a second saving mediator, purchase or sell the divine gift, or make access to Christ depend upon recognition of his personal supremacy.

To appeal to Moses and Aaron as proof that Christ must have a Roman vicar is therefore to argue backwards from the shadow to the substance, from the mortal priesthood to the immortal Priest, and from an earthly sanctuary to the living temple of God.

The former system required succession because its priests died. Christ does not die. The former system possessed an earthly sanctuary; the redeemed are now God's spiritual house. The former system possessed repeated sacrifices; Christ's sacrifice was offered once for all. The former system required its ministers to serve under the limitations of mortality; Christ's priesthood is everlasting.

If the whole argument of Hebrews announces the fulfilment of that order in Jesus Christ, why should the ancient necessity of a succession of mortal priests be used to establish an indispensable succession of universal earthly pontiffs?

The logic reverses the direction of the apostolic teaching.

A Sacred Title Is Not a Divine Appointment

Guicciardini described ambassadors arriving in Rome to render homage to the newly elected pope:

“a adorare, come vicario di Cristo in terra, e a offerire di ubbidire il nuovo pontefice.”

“To render homage to the new pontiff as Christ's vicar on earth, and to offer obedience.”

(I.2, p. 8; PDF p. 11.)

The verb adorare, in this diplomatic setting, denotes ceremonial homage and should not automatically be translated as a claim that the ambassadors were offering the pope divine worship. But the passage illustrates how the title of Christ's earthly vicar operated publicly. Rulers and their representatives acknowledged the pontiff's dignity through elaborate ceremonies of obedience.

The existence of such ceremonies proves that the authority was claimed and recognised within the political and religious structures of the age. It does not prove that Jesus Christ personally instituted the office in the form in which those pontiffs exercised it.

This is the difference between an inherited institutional title and an appointment demonstrably established by God.

The Donation of Constantine could not supply the original authority it pretended to record, because its account was fabricated. The Pseudo-Isidorian Decretals cannot prove that their purported early papal letters were genuine, because the relevant texts were later constructions. Centuries of ceremony cannot turn an unrecorded command into a recorded command.

And the presence of corruption within a religious institution cannot be excused by saying that its rulers are accountable only to God while their claim to divine authority is insulated from the examination of Scripture.

Where, then, is Christ's command establishing a permanent Roman vicariate?

Where does he declare that the bishop of Rome shall inherit supreme jurisdiction over every Christian?

Where does he command his redeemed people to submit their consciences to a continuing succession of earthly pontiffs whose appointments may be shaped by electoral negotiations, political patronage or monetary bargains?

Where does he transfer his unique priestly position to an institution capable of selling ecclesiastical dignities, using spiritual sanctions for territorial ends, or directing revenues associated with religious privileges towards the advancement of its ruling families?

These questions are not answered by pointing to the existence of Peter's pastoral responsibilities. Nor are they answered by demonstrating that Christians later recognised the bishop of Rome as an important leader, or even by defending some form of historical Roman primacy.

An institution cannot manufacture a divine appointment simply by giving itself a sacred title.

The burden remains upon those who assert a universal Roman vicariate by divine right to establish that particular office from the words of Christ and his apostles. The New Testament explicitly establishes Christ's everlasting priesthood, continuing mediation and permanent headship. It explicitly establishes a community of believers indwelt by the Holy Ghost and served by ministers who are not to lord over God's heritage. It does not explicitly establish the later Roman system of a universal pontiff governing the whole Church in Christ's place.

The argument does not require the impossible proposition that human ministers cannot represent Christ in any subordinate sense. They plainly can, and Scripture requires them to do so faithfully.

It requires a distinction between representing Christ through service and claiming an indispensable universal authority over his redeemed people which Christ did not explicitly institute.

That distinction is decisive.

The Question Which the Merchants Cannot Answer

The history examined here records pontiffs who obtained office through transactions involving ecclesiastical rewards, created cardinals for money, supported the advancement of relatives through military campaigns, assigned or allegedly diverted revenues associated with spiritual privileges, employed ecclesiastical sanctions in political struggles, and treated religious offices and fiscal rights as instruments within the financial government of European states.

Guicciardini did not establish every accusation circulating about these men. Poisoning stories, sexual rumours and claims of sorcery require independent evidence, and the historian's own judgments must sometimes be distinguished from demonstrated actions.

But the strongest facts require no such assistance.

Alexander VI's election was described as influenced by purchased votes and benefices. The creation of twelve cardinals was linked to the offers of the highest bidders. Jubilee revenues were said to support Cesare Borgia. Named rulers and captains were strangled in operations intended to consolidate Borgia dominion. Julius II used religious sanctions in territorial conflict, including a monitory which Guicciardini described as permitting the seizure of persons. Leo X created many cardinals for money, invested his nephew with Urbino and employed ecclesiastical revenues within a system heavily burdened by dynastic warfare. Clement VII was associated with further electoral bargains, monetary appointments, territorial reprisals and a restoration of Medici power which brought repression upon Florence.

These are substantial historical accusations supported by specific passages, people, circumstances and financial mechanisms. They can be tested against contemporary diaries, diplomatic correspondence and surviving administrative records; some, particularly the killings at Senigallia, possess significant near-contemporary corroboration.

Yet the final issue goes beyond what any papal chronicle can establish.

The Church described by the apostles is the body of Christ. Its members are the living stones of God's spiritual house. Their High Priest continues forever. Their mediator ever lives to make intercession. Their Head has not relinquished his authority, nor abandoned them to the governance of a substitute.

Christ purchased his people with his blood; he did not leave their spiritual inheritance as an asset to be traded through offices, titles, benefices and dynastic political bargains.

When Peter warned that false teachers would, through covetousness, “make merchandise of you,” he described an exploitation which should cause every claimant to Christian authority to examine the relationship between money, power and the people of God.

And when Jesus drove the merchants from the temple, he revealed that a sacred title and a religious setting could never justify turning the things of God into merchandise.

The historical question is how men claiming to be Christ's earthly representatives came to exercise powers which allowed them to sell dignities, employ spiritual penalties for temporal ends, and entangle the resources of the faithful with the fortunes of ruling families. The scriptural question is more fundamental: where did Christ command them to possess such authority in the first place?

For the former covenant had mortal priests who required successors. Christ is the immortal Priest who remains. The former covenant had an earthly sanctuary. Christ has made his people a spiritual house. The former covenant required repeated sacrifices. Christ offered himself once, and by his own blood opened the way to the Father.

No earthly pontiff has succeeded to a vacancy in Christ's priesthood, because Christ has never vacated it.

And no amount of gold, ecclesiastical ceremony, inherited privilege, imperial decree or claimed apostolic succession can establish a divine command which has not been demonstrated from the words of the Lord himself.

“And he is the head of the body, the church.” — Colossians 1:18

There is one living Head. There is one everlasting High Priest. There is one mediator between God and men. And the redeemed belong to him — not to the merchants who presume to trade in his name.

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