was twice on the point of being stoned when he professed to be God’s son, but both times he managed to walk away unharmed. The foreground of the painting prominently displays an episode that is literally the key passage of the papal institution: Christ handing the keys of heaven and earth to Saint Peter, according to the text in Matthew.18 Again it is hard to miss the reference to the pope’s plenitude of power and, by implication, to the unsubstantiated claims of the general council.
Just as in the bronze doors of Saint Peter’s, a balance is struck in the chapel frescoes between generality and specificity. They all represent episodes from the Bible, whose importance for any believer in any time is beyond doubt, and imply that if God helped (the leaders of) the faithful in the past, he will also sustain them in the future. The urgency of this message is underlined by the inclusion of contemporary details, such as portraits of members of the papal court and present-day buildings in Rome. Thus, they link the disastrous attempts to challenge the authority of Moses and Christ to the endeavor to curb the power of the pope in the 1470s and ’80s, making it clear that any attempt to dispute papal authority is bound to fail. Just like Christ’s biblical parables, the paintings appeal to those who have ears to hear.19 The direct and continuing link between Moses and Christ and the present-day pope (whoever may hold that position) is further illustrated by the series of popes painted between the windows, above the biblical scenes (fig. 12). They show (fantasized) portraits of the supreme pontiffs from Saint Peter until the year 313, when Constantine the Great officially recognized Christianity. The implication is that this series is continued by the living pope. Thus, a direct connection is visualized from the current pope, via his predecessors, to Christ and Moses, the lawgivers of the New and Old Testaments, whose authority was divinely instituted. Within this scheme, Sixtus IV himself is notably present, just as Eugenius was personally included in the representations on the bronze doors of Saint Peter’s. The original altarpiece in the chapel (now lost) showed Pope Sixtus together with Saint Peter and the other apostles as a witness of the assumption of Saint Mary (fig. 13). Furthermore, the inscription on the triumphal arches in the painting of The Threat [Conturbatio] to Jesus (fig. 11) praises his piety.20 Thus, Sixtus IV represents the papacy in general, embodying the claims and entitlements of himself and every other pope.
In spite of all this propaganda, the prospect that history might repeat itself and a general council would convene to curb the pope’s authority, or even depose him and create a new pontiff, was not a chimera. Even in the sixteenth century, the various monarchs of Europe did not hesitate to intimidate the pope with such a possibility. Thus, in 1511, the French king, supported by the German emperor, ignored the Execrabilis bull and instigated a council in Pisa. One of the main issues was the deposition of Pope Julius II, on the charge that his conduct was ruining the church (and getting too much in the way of French interests and ambitions). Pope Julius countered by convoking the Fifth Lateran Council, which to no one’s surprise immediately annulled the acts of the Pisan assembly.
The Stanza d’Eliodoro frescoes, painted shortly afterwards by Raphael in the Vatican Palace, are certainly related to these events, but again the allusions to current issues are put in general terms. In 1508, the still relatively unknown Raphael had taken on the commission to decorate one of the rooms of the papal apartment, what is known as the Stanza della Segnatura. This room probably served as the pope’s library, and the paintings accordingly show famous authors and scholars from all ages (fig. 14). They astounded the pope so much that he immediately ordered Raphael to continue and decorate the adjoining Stanza d’Eliodoro. In all likelihood, this room was an audience chamber, and thus subjects with a more political content were chosen. Begun in 1511, the frescoes on the four walls show instances of divine intervention (fig. 15);21 in all four scenes a pope is shown as present, even if the story itself does not require him or his presence is downright anachronistic. In the first fresco, three heavenly creatures, in answer to the Jewish high priest Onias’s prayer for help, drive out Heliodorus trying to rob the temple treasury (fig. 16).22 A pope is miraculously included as an eyewitness to this episode from the Old Testament. In the second fresco, an angel liberates Saint Peter from prison (fig. 17).23 In the third fresco, Saints Peter and Paul appear in the sky to assist Pope Leo I in deterring Attila and his Huns from advancing to Rome in 452 (fig. 18). In the final fresco, representing a miracle that took place at Bolsena in 1263, the communion wafer exudes real blood, releasing the celebrating priest from his doubts about the question whether the eucharistic transformation really changes the host into the body of Christ (fig. 19). A pope appears here too, though none was present when the miracle occurred. The relevance of these four events for the current pope has been highlighted by giving the painted pontiffs (except Saint Peter himself) the facial traits of Julius II and his successor Leo X, who continued the decoration project after Julius’s death.
Although it is tempting to relate the depicted events to the current political situation, particularly the threat of the French, it is actually hard to connect them directly to specific circumstances. Julius II was already likened to the high priest Onias before the problems with the French began,24 and Leo I dispelling the Huns—at first sight an apt reference to Pope Julius’s military campaign against the French in 1511—a general example to demonstrate the papacy’s divinely supported independence.25 Moreover, specific details of the preparatory sketches indicate that the paintings had already been planned in 1510, well before the Council of Pisa and the Fifth Lateran Council convened. In a more general sense, the paintings demonstrate that in every age, from biblical times to the present, God will support the leader of his faithful, whether the pope or his precursor, the Jewish high priest. The popes included in the paintings visibly convey that they feel secure in God’s helping presence. They seem quiet and undisturbed in spite of the dangers threatening them. Thus, the paintings create an image of the papacy as a divinely supported authority that through the ages has overcome doubts about its teachings and attacks against its power and institutions. Details from the present relate the events from the past to contemporary problems, without becoming too specific, making it clear that the papacy will prevail over the current troubles, as it will over those of the future. Just as in the doors for Eugenius IV and the paintings for Sixtus IV, a balance is struck between generality and specificity, which makes the paintings serve as fitting propaganda for the pope who commissioned them as well as for his successors.
The three cases discussed are just a few instances of the wave of propaganda issued by the papacy, in painting and sculpture as well as many other forms of art: writing, music, and temporary manifestations such as parades and theater festivals. In this respect, the papal court did not really differ from that of secular rulers, who also employed art as an important tool to promote their status and authority. But neither the amount nor the quality of the papal propaganda could change the fact that, a century after the Council of Constance, the position of the papacy was still unstable. The conciliar battle in 1511 showed that the days when the pope’s authority was taken for granted were definitely over.
Meanwhile there were other factors starting to contribute to
