READING HALL

DOORS OF WISDOM

A HISTORY OF THE POPES FROM THE GREAT SCHISM TO THE SACK OF ROME

BOOK V. THE ITALIAN PRINCES

CHAPTER I.

PAUL II.

1464—1471.

So long as the struggle against the conciliar movement continued, the objects of the papal policy were determined; it was only when the papal restoration had been practically achieved that the difficulties of the papal position became apparent. Nearly a hundred years had passed since there was an undoubted Pope who had his hands free for action of his own; and in those hundred years the central idea on which the Papacy rested—the idea of a Christian Commonwealth of Europe—had crumbled silently away. A dim consciousness of decay urged Pius II to attempt to give fresh life to the idea before it was too late. The expulsion of the Turks from Europe was clearly an object worthy of united effort, and the old associations of a crusade would set up the Papacy once more as supreme over the international relations of Europe. But Pius II’s well-meant effort for a crusade was a total failure, and only his death prevented the failure from being ludicrous. He left unsolved the difficult problem. In what shape was the Papacy to enter into the new political system which was slowly replacing that of the Middle Ages? A still more difficult problem, as yet scarcely suspected, lay behind. How was the ecclesiastical system which the Middle Ages had forged to meet the spirit of criticism which the New Learning had already called into vigorous lift?

Some sense of these problems was present to Pius II as he lay upon his deathbed, and the Cardinals dimly felt that a crisis was at hand. Pius II's corpse was brought to Rome, and his obsequies were performed with befitting splendor. Then on August 24 the twenty Cardinals who were in Rome entered the Conclave in the Vatican. The first day was spent in preliminaries. On the second day the electors made an effort to check the growth of papal autocracy by imposing constitutional restraints. They framed a series of regulations which each swore that he would observe in case he were elected. These regulations began with an undertaking to continue the war against the Turks, and summon a General Council within three years for the purpose of stirring up princes to greater enthusiasm for the faith. But this was only the formal prelude to promises which more nearly affected the interests of the College. The future Pope undertook to limit the number of Cardinals to twenty-four, who were to be created only after a public vote in a consistory. None were to be created who were not of the age of thirty at least, graduates in law or theology, and not more than one relative of the Pope was to be amongst them. The Cardinals were to be consulted on appointments to the more important posts, and the wills of members of the Curia were to be respected on their death. As a guarantee for the observance of this agreement a clause was added empowering the Cardinals to meet twice a year and consider if it had been duly regarded; if not, they were to admonish the Pope, “with the charity of sons towards a father”, of his forgetfulness and transgression.

When this agreement had been drafted and signed by all, the Cardinals proceeded to a scrutiny. The majority seem to have made up their minds, for the first voting showed twelve votes in favour of Pietro Barbo, Cardinal of S. Marco. As soon as this was announced four Cardinals at the same moment declared their accession, and then to make the election unanimous Bessarion asked each, separately if they agreed. Cardinal Barbo was elected with a unanimity and a rapidity which were of rare occurrence in the annals of papal elections. Only the old Scarampo was opposed to one against whom he had a long-standing grudge, for Barbo had consistently opposed his influence over Eugenius IV.

Pietro Barbo was a nephew of Eugenius IV, by whom he had been made Cardinal. He was a man of handsome appearance, naturally suave and courteous, with all a Venetian’s love of splendor. He learned in the Curia how to use his natural gifts to good purpose. He could easily ingratiate himself into the favour of his superiors, and was a favorite of Nicolas V and Calixtus III. To the keen-sighted Pius II his supple manners were not so acceptable, and he did not so readily have his wishes satisfied. Yet he was an incorrigible beggar, and had recourse even to tears if entreaties failed, so that Pius II laughed at him and gave him the name of ‘Maria pientissima’. But the complacency of Barbo was not confined to his superiors. He was fond of popularity and was genuinely kindly. He never abandoned the cause of any whom he took under his protection. He visited members of the Curia when they were sick, tended them carefully, and supplied them with unguents and medicines which he obtained from Venice. His enemies attributed his kindliness to interested motives, and accused him of hunting legacies; but this could not be the reason of his affability to the Roman citizens, whom he delighted to entertain with refined magnificence. His first act in the Conclave after his election showed that his natural impulse was towards considerate courtesy. He advanced to embrace his old enemy Scarampo, who was so crippled with gout that he could not leave his chair : seeing a crestfallen look upon his face he consoled him and bade him be of good cheer, assuring him that the past was forgotten. To his personal popularity and his supposed sympathy with the reforming policy of the College, Barbo chiefly owed his election, though the political cause which brought him into prominence was the alliance with Venice against the Turks which Pius II bequeathed to the Papacy. Barbo was in the prime of life, of the age of forty-eight; when asked what name he would bear as Pope, he said ‘Formosus’. The Cardinals were afraid that this would be interpreted as his own estimate of his handsome appearance. At their request he chose another name; but his next choice of Mark did not please them better, for it was the Venetian war cry. Finally he took the title of Paul II, and was consecrated on September 16.

The Cardinals, who had counted on the complaisance of the new Pope, soon found themselves mistaken. In spite of his promises Paul intended to be as absolute as his predecessors. He had signed the agreement drawn up in the Conclave with the remark that, even if its provisions had not been drafted, he would have observed them for their intrinsic usefulness. But his first act as Pope was to set aside this compact. He drew up another of his own, which he said was better, but which was full of ambiguities. He summoned the Cardinals one by one into his chamber and requested them to sign his draft as preferable to their own. When they remonstrated he overwhelmed them with reproaches; when they wished to read the document and discuss its contents, he covered it with his hand and bade them sign. When Bessarion refused and tried to escape, the Pope seized him, dragged him back, locked the door, and threatened him with excommunication if he did not immediately obey. Dismayed and overborne the Cardinals one by one complied, except the brave and upright Carvajal, who said, “I will not do in my old age what I never did as a youth. I will not repent of my integrity; but I will bear you no grudge”. When Paul II had extorted all the signatures except that of Carvajal, he flung his document into a chest and locked it up; the Cardinals were not allowed even to have a copy of the amended regulations which the Pope consented to observe. It was a bitter disappointment to them. Under Nicolas V, Calixtus III, and Pius II the College had not been able to mold the papal policy. Under Paul II it hoped for a return to power; but the Pope burst its bonds as a lion breaks through a net. The Cardinals were downcast; but at last a dim consciousness that probably each of them would have behaved in a like manner found expression in a joke which the Cardinal of Avignon made to the Pope: “You have made good use of your twenty-four years’ study of the College to deceive us once”.

Thus Paul swept away the last remnants of the conciliar principles, and asserted that nothing could bind a Pope. It is true that he could plead that such an attempt had been distinctly forbidden by a Constitution of Innocent VI in 1353. He could urge that such a scheme on the part of the electors to the Papacy to secure their own interests was entirely contrary to the canonical conception of the plenitude of the papal power; that the method adopted of signing a joint agreement was singularly unfortunate; that to refuse to sign would have meant exclusion from office, while to fulfill the agreement after election would have been an unlawful diminution of his authority, which the new Pope was bound to maintain and hand down intact. But the fact remains that Paul broke a solemn promise and so closed the door to the only possible means of guaranteeing reform.

But though Paul did not intend to increase the power of the Cardinals, he had no objection to increase their grandeur. He reserved to the Cardinals the privilege of wearing red hats, and allowed them to use purple cloaks and trappings for their horses, which had been formerly reserved for the Pope; he gave them also raised seats in consistories and in churches. Moreover, he made a monthly allowance of 100 gold florins to Cardinals whose yearly revenues were below 4.000 florins, and he showed a like liberality to poor Bishops. All this was part of his policy to make his pontificate remarkable by personal splendor. If Nicolas V aimed at making Rome the literary and artistic capital of Christendom, Paul II aimed at making the grandeur of the papal court a model to the princes of Europe. He loved magnificence, and claimed it as a special prerogative of the Papacy. He delighted to walk in procession, where his tall figure overtopped all others; his dignity and impressiveness in celebrating the mass enchanted even his assistants in the ceremony. His love of ornaments was shown by his revival of the use of the Regnum or triple crown, first worn by Urban V, but since abandoned he had one made studded with jewels valued at 120,000 ducats. “When he appeared in public it was”, says Platina, “like another Aaron, with form more august than man”.

Paul was a zealous collector of cameos and medals, lucky opportunity soon threw in his way a means of acquiring a large collection. Cardinal Scarampo died in March, 1465, and by his will left all his possessions to two nephews, who were by no means fit persons to enjoy the vast treasures which Scarampo had amassed at the expense of the Church. He was suspected of having appropriated the wealth of Eugenius IV, and when he carried his enmity against Paul so far as to make no restitution to the Church at his death, everyone thought that the Pope was amply justified in setting aside his will, and seizing his goods. Men even wondered at Paul's clemency towards Scarampo’s nephews; when they attempted to flee with some of their uncle's treasures they were only imprisoned for a few days, and Paul made them a handsome allowance out of the money which he received.

Paul was not a practised politician like Pius II; he was averse from war, as was natural in one who loved the splendors of peace. He had no desire to meddle unnecessarily with the affairs of Europe, and the results of the journey to Ancona were not encouraging for a continuance of crusading schemes. Still Paul sent subsidies to Mathias of Hungary, and declared himself ready to contribute 100,000 ducats for the purpose of a crusade if other powers would contribute in proportion. But Europe was apathetic: North Italy was disturbed by the death of Cosimo de' Medici, and the Venetians hung back. Nothing was done, and the Turks continued to advance steadily, checked only by the brave resistance of Scanderbeg in Albania.

Perhaps Paul was not sorry to find that no heroic measures were expected from him. His interests lay in the arts of peace, and he took a large view of the obligations of the work that lay immediately at his doors. For a time, at the beginning of his pontificate, he seems to have seriously contemplated a reform of some of the worst abuses of the papal system. He consulted a consistory about the desirability of abandoning grants of benefices in expectancy. Different opinions were given, but that of Carvajal prevailed. He said that the Papacy had laboured long to break down the opposition of ordinaries to papal provisions; now that the prerogative had been established, it would be dangerous to let it fall into abeyance. It was an argument unfortunately only too plausible at all times. Abuses soon pass into rights, and the technical mind deprecates the surrender of claims which it cannot undertake to defend. Paul did not venture to decree the abolition of grants in expectancy; but for his own part he declined to make such grants. Though he loved magnificence, he was too high-minded to resort to unworthy means for raising money. He did his utmost to put down simony and repress the sale of indulgences; but personal efforts were unavailing on the part of one who had cut himself off from the cooperation of his natural advisers. All he could do by himself was to bequeath to his successors a fruitless example of personal purity.

So, while Paul refused to admit principles which might secure lasting reforms, he turned his attention to matters of detail in the organization of the Curia. The army of officials, who composed the administrative Staff of the papal court, were divided into several departments, chief of which was the Chancery, presided over by a Cardinal who took the title of Vice-Chancellor. The Chancery preserved the papal archives, and conducted the papal correspondence. For this last purpose there were two sets of officials, the papal secretaries and the abbreviators. Since the reorganization of the Curia by Martin V it had been recognized that the secretaries stood in confidential relations towards the Pope, and their office frequently ended with the death of their patron. The abbreviators, who were not concerned with the private correspondence of the Pope, but only prepared formal documents, held office for life, and were appointed by the Vice-Chancellor. The lucrative post of Vice-Chancellor had been bestowed by Calixtus III on his nephew Cardinal Borgia. Pius II, had no friendly feelings towards Borgia, and liked to exercise patronage himself. Accordingly he formed the abbreviators into a College, fixed their number at seventy, and limited the nominations of the Vice-Chancellor to twelve. He filled the College so constituted with favorites of his own, Sienese friends and literary dependents. Paul, probably with justice, regarded the abbreviators as the —source of much corruption and venality; perhaps he was not sorry to rid himself of the Sienese element which Pius II had so largely introduced into the Curia. He abolished the arrangements of Pius II, ejected his nominees from their posts, and did away with the order of abbreviators altogether. This again was a barren attempt at reform. Sixtus IV—restored the College, and Innocent VIII increased it that he might make money out of the sale of offices.

No step is more unpopular than one of administrative reform, and Paul’s reputation has suffered in consequence. Great was the dismay, bitter the indignation, and loud the cries of the dispossessed officials. Many of them were scholars and men of letters, and according to the temper of their class considered that they conferred more distinction on the Curia than they received from it. The Pope's action was resented as an insult to the entire literary fraternity, and the abbreviators were at first sure that if they raised their complaints the Pope would be forced by public opinion to give way. Moreover, as the office of abbreviator was frequently bought by candidates, they put in a legal claim to its possession as a freehold for life. Platina, the most distinguished of their number, urged their cause with warmth, and demanded that their claims should be submitted to the legal decision of the auditors of the Rota. He little knew the resoluteness of the Pope. Paul looked at him with a scowl; “Do you talk of bringing us before judges, as if you did not know that all law is seated in our breast? If you talk in that way, all shall be dismissed. I care not; I am Pope, and can at my good pleasure rescind or confirm the acts of others”. Platina found Paul as immovable as a rock, and when remonstrance failed he determined to have recourse to threats. He wrote a haughty letter to the Pope, saying that if he persisted in depriving the abbreviators of their legal rights, they would complain to the princes of Europe and entreat them to summon a Council which would call the Pope to account for his illegal conduct. It is a striking testimony to the power of the revived literature of Italy that such a threat should have been conveyed to such a Pope. The humanists must indeed have had a high sense of their own importance before they could dream of disturbing the peace of Europe by a question concerning their position in the papal court.

The answer of Paul was quick and decided. He ordered Platina to be put in prison on a charge of treason. In vain Platina justified his action by reference to censorial power in the Roman Republic; for four months he lay in his cell, bound by heavy chains, without a fire in the wintry weather. He was at length released through the entreaties of Cardinal Gonzaga, who warned him not to leave Rome, but to stay there quietly. “If you were to go to India”, he added, “Paul would find means to bring you back”. Platina was humbled, and on his release from prison lived quietly in Rome, till he again excited the Pope's anger and suffered still worse treatment at his hands.

With equal decision Paul applied himself to the practical details of the government of Rome. He inquired into the prices of provisions, and when the merchants pleaded scarcity as a reason for their high charges, the Pope sent envoys of his own to procure corn and meat for the Roman market. So successful was he in this undertaking that prices fell more than a I half. While he thus provided for the comfort of the people, he sternly repressed disorder and demanded obedience to the laws. He had a horror of violence and wished all men to live in peace. In carrying out his measures he showed a happy mixture of firmness and mercy. Turbulent spirits were cooled by a few days’ imprisonment; no malefactors were allowed to escape; but Paul was averse from severity, and above all from bloodshed. Though willing to remit the full penalty inflicted on smaller crimes, his sense of justice would not allow him to pardon homicide, while his clemency shrank from the infliction of capital punishment. The prisons were filled with culprits, and the magistrates clamored for their execution. “Do you think it a small thing”, said the Pope, “to put to death a man, so admirable a piece of God’s workmanship, and molded for use by human society through so many years of toil?”. He devised a new punishment for grave offenders by sending them to serve in his galleys, with strict orders to the captains that they should be mercifully treated. Compassion was inherent in the temperament of Paul. He rescued birds from their captors and let them go free. He could not even endure to see a bullock being led to the shambles, but would stop and buy it from the butcher that its life might be spared.

In other matters which affected the well-being of the city, Paul showed equal sagacity. He cleansed the sewers and aqueducts, and repaired the bridges over the Tiber. He preferred to take part in the city life rather than enjoy the somewhat solitary grandeur of the Vatican. He lived chiefly in the Palazzo of S. Marco, which he had built as Cardinal, and which still stands as a memorial of his architectural taste. From its windows he could enjoy the sight of the Roman Carnival which he delighted to organize and encourage. There were races of all kinds in the long straight street which led to his palace, and which took from his day the well-known name of the Corso. All classes and all ages might enjoy themselves; there were foot races for the Jews, for youths, for adults and for old men. There were horse races, donkey races, and races for buffaloes. There were pageants of giants and cupids, Diana and her nymphs, Bacchus and his attendant fauns; there were processions of civic magistrates escorted by wagons laden with grotesque figures, while songs in honor of the Pope resounded on all sides. On the last day of the Carnival, Paul gave a magnificent banquet to the magistrates. The remnants, including all the furniture of the table, were distributed amongst the people, and the Pope himself threw small silver coins to be scrambled for by the crowd. Some shook their heads at these heathenish vanities as unbefitting a Pope; but Paul, while desirous to check abuses, had none of the spirit of asceticism, though he himself was most temperate in his pleasures, and seldom took more than one meal a day, and that a simple one. He possessed, however, the spirit of genuine charity, and besides showing liberality in cases of conspicuous need, chose almoners, men and women of high character, whom he supplied with money, which they expended secretly in the relief of the destitute.

In the States of the Church Paul did what he could to stop administrative corruption. He forbade the governors of cities to receive presents, except of provisions, and of these not more than a supply for two days. He gave the castles into the hands of prelates, thinking that they were more trustworthy than the neighboring barons. Moreover he was enabled to take an important step towards securing the peace of Rome, which since the days of Eugenius IV had been disturbed by the turbulent baron Everso, Count of Anguillara, who was little better than a bandit, and made the approaches to Rome dangerous by the robber hordes whom he encouraged. He held his power by virtue of opposition to the Popes: he intrigued with the discontented in Rome and kept the city in constant disquiet. At his death, in September, 1464, he was master of most of the towns in the Patrimony. Paul resolved to recover the possessions of the Church from the two sons of Everso, who promised to restore the castles which their father had seized. The promise was not kept, and in June, 1465, Paul II sent his troops against them. There was a party in Rome which was in their favor, a party which wished to maintain any sort of check on the power of the Pope. Paul acted with the wisdom of a states­man. He summoned an assembly of the Roman people, and plainly put before them his policy and his aims. The opposition was at once overborne, and Rome was united in desiring to be rid of a horde of robbers at its gates. Not a blow was struck in behalf of Everso’s sons: one fled to Venice, the other was made prisoner. Thirteen castles were at once surrendered to the Church, and by the end of 1465 Paul was master of the Patrimony. Towards the general politics of Italy the attitude of Paul was at once wise and dignified. He studied above all things to maintain peace, and refused to join in any of the leagues, or countenance any of the plans, which the Italian States were so fertile in forming against their neighbors. He would not offend anyone, but he would seek no one’s favor. He had no objects of his own to pursue, but aimed at holding an independent position as arbiter amongst conflicting interests.

In the external relations of the Papacy, Pius II had left one important question for settlement, and when the need for action was clearly apparent Paul II could act with a resolution unknown to his predecessor. The last thing that Pius II had done before departing for Ancona was to summon to Rome the heretical King of Bohemia, George Podiebrad. It was reserved to Paul II to bring to an end the Bohemian difficulty, and the fact that he entertained no political projects of his own enabled him to concentrate his attention on the purely ecclesiastical side of George Podiebrad’s position. We have seen how George of Bohemia strove to emerge from the isolation in which as a Utraquist he stood amongst the powers of Europe. He tried every means, and even threatened to break down the hierarchical basis of the state system of Europe. First he endeavored to win the Imperial crown, and failing that, to reform the Empire according to his ideas; finally he set on foot a scheme for a new organization of international affairs, by means of a parliament of European princes. This last attempt had warned the Papacy of its danger, and Pius II resolved to crush George by every means in his power. The death of Pius II suspended for a time the process against George which the Pope had threatened. George had a short period of respite while Paul II paused to survey the ground.

Though George Podiebrad had done great things in restoring order into Bohemia and raising its credit abroad, he was still no nearer to a permanent settlement than he was at the beginning of his reign. The Catholics of Breslau refused to recognize him as their king, and were under the protection of the Pope. Bohemia was still distracted, and the key to the papal policy was to be found in the saying of the Archbishop of Crete to the complaint of the men of Breslau, that not the Rhine, the Danube, and the Tiber could quench the flame of heresy in Bohemia. “The Moldau alone will suffice”, was his answer. In truth, the Bohemian nobles looked with some suspicion on the king who had risen from their own ranks, and whose efforts were directed to increase the kingly power. They were gradually becoming more discontented; and though they would not venture to take up arms simply at the Pope's bidding, for the large majority of the people was Utraquist, they were ready to seek a political pretext which might bring them into alliance with the Pope. Early in 1465 a baron who had been always hostile to King George, Hynek of Lichtenberg, rose against the King, and the States of Moravia declared war against him as a disturber of the peace. His castle of Zornstein was besieged, whereupon Hynek fled to Rome and besought the Pope to take cognizance of his case. The Bishop of Lavant, who had been appointed legate for Bohemian affairs in Germany, wrote from Rome, forbidding all Catholics in Moravia and Bohemia to continue the siege of Zornstein; Hynek, as being a good Catholic, was under the protection of the Pope.

King George now knew what he had to expect from the new Pope. He wrote to Paul assuring him that Hynek was not persecuted on account of his faith, but was being punished for his rebellious conduct. The Bishop of Lavant from Neustadt threatened with interdict all who took part in the siege of Zornstein. Paul answered George's letter, not to himself, but to the Bohemian States, saying that he was sorry to hear charges against an orthodox man like Hynek; as he who ordered proceedings to be taken against Hynek had no power and authority, since he refused obedience to the Church, the Pope declared Hynek to be no rebel, and repeated his orders that the siege of Zornstein should be raised. Of course the papal letter did not carry conviction, and Zornstein fell before its besiegers in June, 1465.

The letter of Paul was meant to be a declaration of war; by his defence of Hynek he showed the means by which he intended to wage it, and invited allies. He did not act without knowledge; by his side stood the stubborn Carvajal, who since the days of Eugenius IV, had directed the papal diplomacy in Germany and Bohemia. George was not long in feeling the results of this policy. The discontented barons, who dreaded the steady growth of the royal power, gathered together secretly and formed themselves into a League under the guidance of Bishop Jost of Breslau. At the head of these nobles stood Zdenek of Sternberg, once the firm friend of King George, but who had gradually been estranged from him. It was agreed that the religious question was to be carefully excluded from their complaints, and that their action was to be founded on the grounds of national patriotism. A list of grievances was drawn up and presented to the King in a Diet held at Prague on September 25, 1465. The discontented barons absented themselves; but their written complaint contained twelve articles accusing the King of diminishing the rights of the nobles, employing foreigners rather than Bohemians, and allowing Rokycana and his priests to disturb the peace of the land. To these complaints the King returned a dignified answer; but it was clear that the grievances were merely a pretext, and that the object of the League was hostility against George. On November 28, the discontented barons, with the Bishops of Breslau and Olmütz, entered into a League for five years for the purpose of mutual defence.

Side by side with this action of the Bohemians the Pope proceeded on his way. Indignant at the fall of Zornstein, he nominated a commission of three Cardinals, amongst whom were Carvajal and Bessarion, to report on the process which Pius II had instituted against George. On receiving their report he renewed, on August 2, the citation to “George of Podiebrad, who calls himself King of Bohemia”, to appear within 180 days to answer to the charges of heresy, perjury, sacrilege, and other crimes. On August 6 the Pope further commissioned the Bishop of Lavant to loose all ties of allegiance or alliance between George and his subjects or allies. The Pope did not wait to give George a chance of appearing to his citation. The notoriety of his misdeeds was held to be apparent, and the legate was bidden to lodge complaints against him in all the courts of Germany.

King George at once realized the danger in which he stood. He saw that the papal policy tended to isolate him, not only in Europe, but in his own kingdom. He judged it wise to make a movement of retreat, to try to renew the position in which he had first stood towards Pius II. He looked for mediators with the Pope. In the Emperor he could put little trust; from Mathias of Hungary, who stood high in the Pope’s favour, he hoped much; from Lewis of Bavaria he borrowed the pen of his chancellor, Dr. Martin Mayr. Acting on Mayr’s advice he pleaded his inability to come to Rome, and demanded a Council in the neighborhood of Bohemia before which he would willingly appear. Lewis of Bavaria sent an envoy to Rome in November, 1465, bearing George’s proposals for reconciliation. He offered to lead a crusade against the Turks, and drive them from Constantinople, on condition that he received as a reward the Imperial crown of the Eastern Empire; in Bohemia the existing condition of the religious question was to continue : the compacts were to rest on their own basis without any papal recognition: George's son was to succeed him on the Bohemian throne, and another son was to receive the archbishopric of Prague, which he was to hold from the Pope: much of the possessions and privileges of the Church should be restored to the Catholic clergy.

Paul was not captivated by this fantastic proposal. He was of a practical turn of mind and had no taste for daring and adventurous schemes. His mind was made up about George, and he was resolved to give no quarter. He gave a decisive proof of his intractability by his treatment of a Bohemian envoy who brought him a letter from George in December. “Holy Father”, said the envoy, “this letter is sent by your faithful son the King of Bohemia”. The Pope took the letter and flung it on the ground. “How, you beast, can you be so bold as in our presence call him king whom you know to be a condemned heretic? To the gallows with you and your heretical ruffian”. Paul could be both plain-spoken and resolute when he chose; and we are not surprised to find that the envoy waited for three weeks for an answer, but none was given. Finally at Christmas the Pope, seeing him in the church of S. Maria Maggiore, sent a chamberlain to turn him out. Lewis of Bavaria, in answer to his mediation, received a sharp reproof, and a vigorous criticism of George's proposals. A forsworn heretic, said the Pope, asks for further favours: let him first keep his promises : better the infidel who knows not the truth than a heretic and schismatic. Diplomacy was no longer possible between the Pope and the King.

Though a breach was now imminent, all parties hesitated. George had everything to gain by moderation and still hoped to escape the storm. The League of Bohemian nobles was not strong enough to attack him, and negotiated with the Pope for money and support. The Pope answered that they were not fighting for the Catholic cause, but only for their own interests; if they declared themselves on the side of Breslau and the Catholic faith he would help them, but not otherwise. The League hesitated and made a truce with George, who was constant in his desire for peace. The Pope meanwhile did not venture to proceed to extremities and declare George deposed till he saw some means of enforcing the sentence. George could not be overcome save by the arms of some foreign power, and it was not easy to find a prince who was ready to undertake the difficult task of attacking so powerful an adversary. The Emperor was of course hopeless, and the Princes of Germany were too busy with their own schemes of aggrandizement. There remained Mathias of Hungary and Casimir of Poland; but Mathias, though professing himself ready to obey the Pope in all matters, was occupied against the Turks in his own dominions, and Casimir maintained a doubtful attitude towards the Pope's proposals. The time passed by for George’s appearance in Rome to answer the charges against him, and still the Pope hesitated to proceed to extremities. The question was discussed in a consistory on December 21, 1466, till Carvajal, true to his inflexible principles, confirmed the wavering minds of the Cardinals. “Why do we measure all things by human judgments Must not something in difficulties be left to God? If the Emperor and the Kings of Poland and Hungary will not help us, God will help us from His holy seat and will bruise the head of the wicked. Let us do our duty; He will perform the rest”. His view prevailed, and on December 23, in an open consistory, sentence was given against George as a heretic; he was deprived of all his dignities, and his subjects were released from their allegiance.

The effect of this determined attitude of the Pope was at once felt in Germany, where the old antipathy against the Bohemians began in some measure to revive. The students of Leipzig and Erfurth sold their books and bought arms for a crusade against the heretic: the Emperor and the German princes began to draw further away from George. The Barons’ League formed itself definitely into a Catholic League, and elected as its leader Zdenek of Sternberg; but it was clear that the League would be powerless unless it found allies outside the kingdom. George had a wise adviser and a skillful diplomat in Gregory of Heimburg, whose skillful appeals to the German Princes did much to strengthen George's position. Acting under Heimburg’s advice, George on April 14, 1467, met the Pope's Bull by a formal appeal. On the grounds that the proceedings against him were contrary to justice, and were dictated merely by personal hatred, he appealed first to the Roman See itself, against which, George added, he had no grievances, but only against its present occupant, who was a mortal man, subject to mortal passions; secondly, he appealed to a General Council; and thirdly, to Paul's successor, and to all corporations in Christendom which loved right and justice. This appeal produced no results save that it gave a technical ground for Catholics to continue on the side of George without severing their allegiance to the Pope.

War now broke out between the Barons’ League and King George; but it was a war of plundering raids and sieges of castles in which George had the balance of success. Both sides grew weary of this fruitless seeks for devastation, and a truce was made in November. George behaved with singular moderation; he wished only for a lasting peace, and did not care to pursue a temporary advantage. The Pope fulminated against George, but that produced little effect; the real question was whether the Polish or Hungarian King would come to the help of the League. There were long negotiations with Casimir of Poland; but he shrank from the arduous task and offered his services as a mediator. Mathias of Hungary was more easily won over. Though bound by many ties to George Podiebrad, he had become gradually estranged from him and regarded him with feelings akin to jealousy. He had married George’s daughter, but her death in 1464 loosened his personal ties to the Bohemian King. In truth the attitude of Bohemia was a stumbling block in the way of the policy of Mathias. The existence of the Hungarian kingdom was threatened by the invasion of the Turks, and Mathias needed the help of Europe to repulse them. A close alliance with Bohemia was the most natural means of gaining help; but an alliance with Bohemia, in the existing condition of the papal policy, meant isolation from the rest of Europe. Mathias had to choose between an alliance with Bohemia against Rome and the Turk, or an alliance with Rome against Bohemia and the Turk. By identifying himself with the cause of the Church he saw a means of convincing Europe that his war against the Turk was waged in the cause of Christendom; he saw also a chance of obtaining for himself the crown of Bohemia, and thereby uniting the resources of the two countries. He resolved to cast in his lot with the Papacy, if it were necessary for him to take one side or the other.

The opportunity for which Mathias waited was not long in coming. King George had made a truce with the Catholic League that he might have his hands free to strike a blow against the Emperor. He regarded Frederick III with growing animosity, and saw in him a centre for papal intrigues which might unite Germany as well as Hungary against Bohemia.

Frederick had submitted to the German Diet at Nurnberg, in June, letters from the Pope demanding help against George, and the election of a new King of Bohemia. Though the Diet did not entertain these proposals, yet Frederick had shown his hostility towards George, who now resolved to meet it. He hoped by striking at Austria to raise up troubles within the Emperor's dominions, and convince Mathias of the need of an alliance with Bohemia against the Turk. In the beginning of 1468 George’s son, Prince Victorin, defied Frederick III as Duke of Austria, and advanced into his territory. The stroke was not decisive, as the Austrians managed to make some sort of resistance, and Frederick III turned for help to Mathias. The decision of Mathias was at once taken. Summoned by the Pope, summoned by the Catholic League, and summoned by the Emperor to attack Bohemia, he saw himself supported on so many sides that victory would be sure to bring him the Bohemian crown. At the end of March he declared war against King George.

That Mathias Hunyadi should at the Pope’s bidding turn his arms against George Podiebrad was the irony of history on the policy of the restored Papacy. As the Papal head of Christendom the Pope summoned Europe to war against the Turk; as head of the ecclesiastical system of Christendom the Pope strove to restore the outward unity of the Church; and these two objects proved to be contradictory. Pius II hoped to combine them by his crusade, which should again unite Europe under the Papal leadership, and sweep away the dangerous and revolutionary schemes of George Podiebrad. Events showed that Pius II had striven after what was unattainable, and Paul II had to consider which aim he should put foremost. If Europe as a whole would not advance against the Turk, the best chance of holding the Turk at bay was the maintenance in Eastern Europe of a strong power, such as might be formed by a close alliance between Bohemia and Hungary. Paul II cast to the winds all thought of the real interests of Europe, that he might secure the interests of the Church. To reduce Bohemia to obedience to the Papacy he did not scruple to plunge into warfare—which could only end in mutual destruction—the two most capable rulers in Europe, whose territories were the natural bulwarks against the advance of the Turk. When we deplore the selfish and grasping policy which prevailed universally in the succeeding age, we must regret that such a Pope as Paul did not bequeath an example of greater care for the general good.

The news of Mathias’ decision awakened the wildest joy of Rome. Cardinal Ammannati wrote to the Pope, “On reading today copies of two letters of the truly most Christian King of Hungary, I raised my eyes and hands to heaven, and gave thanks to God’s goodness which at length has regarded us, and raised us to a hope of salvation, and kindled the spirit of Daniel who will tread down Satan under our feet ... The Lord has awakened, as it were, from sleep, like a giant refreshed with wine. The vengeance for the blood of His servants which has been shed, has entered into His sight. Our enemies, in the words of the Apostle, will be made a footstool under our feet ... The issue is grave; for nothing can be more joyous for the Catholic people, nothing more glorious for the Apostolic Seat, than victory, nothing more sorrowful than defeat. The torch is destructive which may spread a daily conflagration on our heads and those of all faithful people. Wherefore we must the more propitiate the God of Hosts, and aid the pious King by the prayers of the Church, that while he fights there may rain over the Bohemian sinners snares, fire and sulphur, and the breath of storms may be the portion of their cup, for which they shed their own and others’ blood”.

With these aspirations of Ammannati it is worthwhile to compare the words of Gregory of Heimburg, who still remained a keen critic of the papal policy, convinced of the mischief which it had wrought in Germany, and prepared to withstand it to the last. Yet Heimburg had learned from his experiences with Sigismund of Tyrol that it was hard to fight against the Papacy; and though the keenness of his pen is the same as at first, his expressions are more moderate, and the joy in battle has cooled. Heimburg is no longer acting on the offensive, but uses all his skill to parry the blows of an adversary whom he feels to be too powerful for him. His last appeal in behalf of George was written in the middle of 1467; and in it Heimburg put forth all his skill. His object is to defend George against the Pope's procedure, and he carefully narrows the issue before him. Beginning with an apology for venturing to speak against dignitaries, he says that he is distracted between reverence and patriotism; if he speaks, it is after the example of S. Paul, who raised his voice even against the High Priest, when he behaved wrongfully. He then declares George’s fervent desire to clear himself of the charge of heresy, and by giving an account of arguments used in George’s Council, he skillfully manages to set George’s high-mindedness in contrast with the corruption of the Curia, representing him as combating the suggestions made by his advisers, who recommended him to take advantage of the venality and prevarication which prevailed at Rome. He enlarges on the injustice of the Pope’s procedure, and to explain the hatred of the Pope against George he tells once more the story of the means by which the Papacy overcame the German neutrality, and points out how it wishes to keep Germany in chains, by means of its alliance with the feeble Emperor. He dwells on the papal arrogance in German and Bohemian affairs, and then continues: “O Paul, bishop of bishops, who have received the sheep of Christ, not to shear, or milk, or slaughter, but to feed; would it not have become your office of Shepherd to have granted the King’s request for a fair trial, especially as he offered to bring into accordance with the Compacts anything that might be found contrary to the ritual of the Roman Church? Could you not have granted a certain latitude to Bohemia, as Gregory the Great did to Augustine of Canterbury when he wrote: If the same Christ is worshipped, variance of ritual matters not? But you were afraid that the authority of General Councils, which you and the Emperor had trampled underfoot, might again revive, and your filthiness be spread abroad throughout the world. You would have lacked also the delight that you have received from the slaughter of women great with child, whom your cutthroats, beneath the banner of the Cross of Christ, have massacred ... Remember, Holy Father, that as long as you are weighed down with the burden of the flesh, you are a man liable to sin, and therefore may reckon true what is other than the truth ... What gain do you hope to obtain if so much blood be shed in war that the Danube, red with the blood of the slain, dyes the Scythian sea? Will the Bohemians be heard at length even in your despite, and peace again be restored? God will provide what is best”.

Heimburg writes as though the time for the pen were past, and matters must be decided by the sword. Mathias entered Bohemia in April, 1468. Paul II supported him by issuing Bulls of extraordinary severity against those who in any way helped George, or had any commercial dealings with him; and by holding out extraordinary inducements to those who joined in the crusade against him. George was attacked by three enemies at once: Mathias of Hungary, the Catholic League, and the hosts of crusaders who assembled at the Pope’s bidding. They naturally gained some advantage; but Mathias soon saw that the conquest of Bohemia was no easy matter. He tried to win over Casimir of Poland, but George offered to procure from the Estates of Bohemia the election of a son of Casimir for his successor, and the Polish King listened more readily to George than to Mathias. The war went on, and George was sorely pressed; but as the schemes of Mathias became more apparent, the Emperor grew terrified at his too mighty ally. He wished to be rid of George Podiebrad, but he hoped to secure the crown of Bohemia for the Austrian house. Mathias, on his side, aimed not only at the throne of Bohemia, but at the dignity of King of the Romans, as a reward for his labors for the good of Christendom.

In his helplessness Frederick III resolved to try what could be gained from the old alliance which he had formed with the Papacy. Under the pretext of fulfilling a vow which he had made in his troubles of 1462, he started on a pilgrimage to Rome in November, 1468. He placed Austria under the protection of Mathias, whose interests he professed to have chiefly at heart in seeking an interview with the Pope. In fact, however, he regarded Mathias with terror, while Mathias looked on him with suspicion.

Paul II was not well pleased at the news of the Emperor’s coming. In spite of the Pope’s efforts for peace, Italy was not very quiet, and Imperial visits gave opportunities for disturbance. The death of Cosimo de' Medici in 1464, and of Francesco Sforza in 1466, had placed the direction of affairs in North Italy in less experienced hands. In the South, Ferrante of Naples looked with a jealous eye on the success of the Pope in consolidating the possessions of the Church. It is true that in February, 1468, Paul II had succeeded in bringing about a general pacification of Italy; but the Italian League existed in name rather than in reality. A prudent counselor pointed out to the Pope that a general disarmament would only cast adrift a number of mercenary soldiers who would seek some occupation for their arms. “It is our duty”, said the Pope, “to be true to our pastoral office; God who rules all things will dispose matters according to His will”. Paul was personally averse from war. He kept only a few troops, enough to act as mounted police. He used to say that the only expense which he grudged was the pay of his soldiers.

But the more the Pope showed a pacific disposition, the more did Ferrante push his claims. He wished to recover the territory with which Pius II had enriched his nephew Antonio, and he made difficulties about the payment of the tribute due from Naples. Paul II, though peaceful, was firm, and refused to accept the merely formal tokens of the vassalage of Naples, the white horse and the hawk. When the Neapolitan envoy urged that this refusal would anger the King, who could not afford to pay the tribute, Paul answered, “We will wait: someday he will pay us”.

While matters were in this unstable condition, a small thing sufficed to create a disturbance. In October, 1468, died Gismondo Malatesta, lord of Rimini, who since his humiliation by Pius II had been warring against the Turks in the Morea. On his death Paul II claimed Rimini, as Gismondo died without any legitimate heir, and his possessions therefore reverted to their lord the Pope. Venice acted as protector of Rimini during the absence of Gismondo, who was fighting on their behalf; and Rimini itself was held by Gismondo’s famous wife Isotta. Paul had taken into his employment Roberto, a natural son of Gismondo, and Roberto offered to win the city for the Pope. He was successful in his conquest, but held Rimini for himself, and entered into alliance with Ferrante of Naples. It seemed only too probable that round the walls of Rimini would rage a war into which all the Italian powers would be drawn.

When the time of Frederick III’s arrival at Rome drew near, Paul showed all a Venetian’s suspiciousness and foresight. He called his troops into the city, and awaited Frederick’s movements with some anxiety. But the feeble Frederick III was equally powerless for good or evil. Attended by 600 knights, he entered Rome on the evening of December 24, 1468, and was welcomed by the Cardinals, who, in a torchlight procession, conducted him to S. Peter’s, where the Pope was awaiting his arrival. Twice the Emperor knelt as he approached the Pope’s throne; then the Pope, slightly rising from his seat, gave him his hand and kissed him. The seat assigned to him was no higher than the Pope’s feet, and there Frederick sat while lauds were sung. He retired to the Vatican, and after a few hours’ rest attended mass on Christmas Day and read the Gospel attired as a deacon. In all the festivities that followed Frederick III showed himself desirous to pay all respect to the Pope, who treated him with patronizing condescension. In processions he took the Emperor’s right hand with his left, and with his right blessed the people. According to custom, the Emperor dubbed knights on the Bridge of S. Angelo, while the Pope looked on. Strict attention was paid to ceremonial usage, and the papal Master of Ceremonies, Agostino Patrizzi, drew up an elaborate account of all that was done, that it might serve as a precedent to future times.

The record of Patrizzi was of little use for this purpose, as the visit of Frederick III was the last appearance of an Emperor in Rome. Certainly the Empire had never sunk lower than in the hands of Frederick III. Patrizzi writes: “Great was the kindness which the Pope on all occasions showed the Emperor; and it was esteemed all the greater because the papal authority is no less than it was in old times, while its power and strength are much greater. For the Roman Church, by God’s will, through the diligence of the Popes, especially of Paul, has so grown in power and wealth that it is comparable with the greatest kingdoms. On the other hand the authority and strength of the Roman Empire have been so diminished and reduced that, save the name of Empire, scarcely anything remains. I do not forget that former Popes have shown themselves respectful to Emperors, and sometimes to Kings. The power of the Pope used to be what princes allowed; but now things are changed—a trifle at their hands, a mere act of courtesy, is held a very great matter”. Patrizzi tells us the abiding policy of the Curia— it advanced pretensions, and time turned them into realities. But precedents become dangerous after a certain point, and we are not surprised that Frederick III’s successors gave the Curia no chance of enforcing the precedent which it so triumphantly established.

Of course the Pope and the Emperor solemnly discussed the project of a crusade. The Pope asked the Emperor what he advised, and Frederick judiciously answered that he had come to receive, not to give counsel: but at last he proposed a conference of princes at Constance, where he promised that he and Mathias of Hungary would be present. Paul II doubted the expediency of this course, and nothing was decided. A crusade was indeed hopeless; but Frederick III wished to gain from the Pope a recognition of his claim to inherit the crowns of Bohemia and Hungary, and to transfer the Electoral dignity of Bohemia to Austria. But the papal cause was identified for the present with that of the Hungarian king, and Paul II would not displease so necessary an ally; as to Bohemia, he wished to strike it out of the number of kingdoms and divide it into a number of duchies. The Imperial visit was productive of no results to the Emperor, who on January 9, 1469, left Rome, to find on his return to his own dominions that a revolt had broken out in Styria. Mathias of Hungary was not sorry to see his uneasy ally employed at home.

After Frederick’s departure from Rome Paul II turned his attention to the affairs of Rimini. Venice, equally with the Pope, resented the position of Roberto Malatesta, and in May, 1469, an alliance was made between them. Roberto was supported by Milan, Florence, and Naples; Federigo of Urbino, who saw with alarm the spread of the papal power over the neighboring barons, deserted the Pope’s service and put himself at the head of the army which marched to Roberto’s defence. In August the papal forces were defeated and obliged to retreat, and in face of the menacing attitude of Ferrante of Naples and the advance of the Turks upon Negroponte, Paul did not judge it wise to prolong the war. Negotiations were set on foot which ended, on December 22, 1470, in the renewal of the League of Lodi, made in 1454, and in a general pacification of Italy. Roberto Malatesta was left in quiet possession of Rimini, where he strengthened himself by marriage with a daughter of Federigo of Urbino.

Meanwhile Paul II pursued his design of organizing the government of the city of Rome. In 1469 he issued a commission for the revision of its statutes, which dated from 1363, on the grounds that some were of ancient and popular origin, others contrary to the liberty of the Church, others useless and obsolete, while others needed amendment. The reforms were made after consultation between the citizens and the Curia, between the magistrates and the prelates. The revised statutes were printed soon afterwards, probably in 1471, and their publication marked an epoch in the legislation of the Roman city. They are divided into three books, dealing with civil and criminal law and administration, Paul did not attempt to destroy the old liberties of the city: its political power had been merged in the Papacy, and the Pope did not limit its old right of self-government. Senators, conservators, and captains of regions remained as before, and formed a court whose decrees were laid before the general assembly, in which every male over the age of twenty had a place. The clergy were excluded from the government, and no Roman layman was to answer before an ecclesiastical court. To put down the murders which the blood feuds of the Romans made so frequent, a special court was established and special penalties prescribed. The only striking point in the administrative regulations is the sumptuary laws forbidding luxury in clothing and festivals. The magnificent Paul II wished to appropriate splendor and display as a prerogative of the papal office.

In Bohemia Mathias of Hungary found his task more difficult than he expected. Early in 1469 he entered the country and George gathered his forces to repel him. Owing to a heavy fall of snow Mathias was surprised in the narrow passes of Wilemow, where he could neither advance nor retreat. George was ready to listen to overtures for a truce: he wished for peace and determined to trust to the generosity of Mathias : he thought that a renewal of the old alliance with Hungary was still possible, and was more likely to be brought about by negotiation than by a victory in the field. Accordingly he allowed Mathias to withdraw after promising to make peace. Great was the dismay of the Papal Legate Rovarella, who threatened Mathias with excommunication if he carried his promise into effect. The possibility of a pacification ensuing from the meeting between George and Mathias, which took place in Olmütz on March 24, filled the nobles of the Catholic League with terror. They resolved to bind Mathias to the cause which he had undertaken, and on April 12 formally elected him King of Bohemia. Mathias had now a position to fight for; he informed George that he had agreed to the conditions of Wilemow on the understanding that George would abjure his heresy.

War again broke out; but George was now filled with personal hostility against Mathias. He saw that his scheme of forming a powerful Bohemian kingdom on a Utraquist basis had failed, and he saw that the failure prevented him from handing down to his sons the heritage of a kingdom. Resolved to secure Bohemia against the ambitious designs of Mathias, he suggested to the Diet, which met in June at Prague, the election of Ladislas, son of Casimir of Poland, as his successor. The election was accepted, and George renewed the war with a feeling that he had gained an ally. Everywhere was disturbance. There were troubles in the dominions of the Emperor as well as in Hungary, and a Turkish host invaded Bosnia and Croatia. The papal policy had plunged Eastern Europe into helpless confusion.

The King of Poland and Mathias both looked to the Pope for confirmation of their pretensions to the Bohemian throne; but Paul II's answers were ambiguous. He wished to use them both to crush George, and thought it best to leave both the claimants with much to hope from his decision. The war went on, and Mathias found Bohemia hard to subdue. The political interests of Germany again centered in Bohemia; there was even talk of an alliance between George and Charles of Burgundy. Even the Catholics of Silesia began to tire of war, and in Breslau there were preachers who spoke of the blessings of peace. But in March, 1471, George Podiebrad died: Rokycana died a month before him. With them the ideas that animated the policy of the Utraquist party passed away. The Bohemian question entered into a new phase; and Ladislas and Mathias were left to fight for the Bohemian crown.

Paul II did not long survive his great antagonist. On July 26 he was struck with apoplexy and was found dead in his bed. Men said that he had been strangled by a spirit which he kept imprisoned in one of his many rings. He had done nothing worthy of note in his last years, save that he decreed to lessen to twenty-five years the interval between the years of jubilee, and found a field for his magnificence in the reception of Borso of Este, on whom he conferred the title of Duke of Ferrara in April 1471.

It is impossible to suppress a feeling of regret that so strong a man as Paul II, who possessed many of the qualities of a statesman, did not succeed in giving a more decided impulse towards the settlement of the future policy of the Papacy. He saw the dangers that beset it, and for his own part he was resolved to escape them. He would not allow the Papacy to sink to the level of an Italian principality, nor would he adopt the dangerous plan of identifying it with the New Learning. He would not permit the abuses of the Curia to become stereotyped, but did what he could to repress their more flagrant forms. All these were tendencies difficult to resist, and by his resistance Paul exposed himself to much obloquy and misunderstanding. These negative merits would in ordinary times have constituted a high claim on our respect. Unfortunately the days of Paul II demanded in the Pope a constructive policy, and Paul was not sufficiently experienced in statesmanship to make his meaning clear and impress it upon others. The good that he did was rapidly swept away. His one great undertaking, the reduction of Bohemia, was of doubtful service to the Papacy.

As the nephew of Eugenius IV, Paul had been brought up amidst the traditions of the papal restoration. Amidst his search after other objects to pursue he seems to have clung to these traditions as founded on such certain wisdom that hesitation was impossible. Bohemia was the abiding memorial of the papal degradation, and he was resolved that that memorial should be obliterated. Of his force and resoluteness there can be no question; they are expressed even in the formal documents of his Chancery, which discard the graces of style which Pius II loved, and speak with a directness that is rare in diplomatic records. Paul II died with a belief that he had reduced Bohemia. George and Rokycana were dead: Heimburg took refuge in Saxony, was reconciled with the Church under Paul’s successor, and died early in 1472. The loss of its leaders destroyed the political power of the Utraquist party in Bohemia, and again left free course to the current of the Catholic reaction. But the papal candidate did not succeed to the Bohemian throne; the Diet chose Ladislas of Poland, and in spite of all that Mathias could do, Ladislas made good his position. Eastern Europe was distracted by the contest, and the Turkish arms reaped the advantage of this disunion amongst their Christian opponents. Ladislas succeeded because his weakness compelled him to be tolerant; he needed the help of the Utraquists against the Hungarians. The Compacts were tacitly recognized; the existing condition of religious matters was maintained. All that the Papacy gained was the substitution of a Catholic for a Utraquist King of Bohemia, and the price which it paid was the advance of the Turkish arms. No doubt there was in this more gain than appears at first sight. A man with the political sagacity and wide aims of George Podiebrad threatened a dangerous revolution in the international organization of Europe.

Moreover, the papal policy had unexpected influence on the course of religious feeling in Bohemia; it did much to call into existence a new organization that was more decidedly opposed to the principles of the Roman Church. George Podiebrad in his desire for a strong national unity had done his utmost to put down the more fanatical sects which had been formed out of the remnants of the Taborites; he wished to stand simply but decidedly on the basis of the Compacts, and in this he was seconded by Rokycana. This position no doubt corresponded to the desires of the nation, but it was not in itself a strong one for opposition to the Roman Church. The religious movement in Bohemia was so closely united in its origin with political feeling, that it spread only amongst the Czechs and was powerless to influence the German element within Bohemia itself. The Compacts expressed the compromise which a general desire for peace rendered necessary; and the Council of Basel succeeded in paring down Utraquism to its lowest point. Still, however the actual details might be diminished, the fundamental position of Utraquism remained—it asserted the authority of the Scriptures against the authority of the Church. The weakness of Utraquism lay in the fact that after establishing this principle it limited the sphere of its application to the single question, of the reception of the Communion under both kinds. Rokycana, in his desire to save Bohemia from its isolation, adhered to the Catholic ritual and doctrine, discarded all that was adverse to the system of the Church, and retained only the cup for the laity. The probability was that such a symbol would become meaningless, and that a protest restricted within such narrow limits would lose all real power.

In this state of things we are not surprised to find that some earnest minds reverted to the principles from which the Hussite movement originally began, and in deep moral seriousness went back to the position assumed by Mathias of Janow and other precursors of Hus. Chief amongst such men was Peter Chelcicky, who was dissatisfied alike with the yielding attitude of Rokycana and with the savage spirit of the Taborites. He could not follow Rokycana in admitting Transubstantiation, the priestly power of Absolution, or the doctrine of Purgatory and Indulgences; about the Sacrament of the Altar he reverted to the position of Wycliffe, that by virtue of the words of consecration, the substance of bread and the Body of Christ were alike present in the hands of the priest.

But it was not doctrine so much as practice that occupied the mind of Peter Chelcicky; he thirsted for a moral reformation, which the fury of the Hussite wars had thrust far into the background. Chelcicky sought for the real basis of the life of the individual Christian, and found it in the love of God apart from all human ordinances. He defined Christianity as the kingdom of the spirit and of freedom, in which man pursues what is good, and in which war and contention are unknown. Heathenism is servitude to the flesh; from it spring dissension and wickedness, which must be compelled to order by means of temporal government. Thus temporal authority rests on no Christian basis, but is founded on heathenism—that is, on the wickedness of man’s carnal nature; it is in itself an evil, but a necessary evil. Historically, the Primitive Church was destroyed when under Constantine it became associated with the Empire. The union of the priesthood with the temporal power turned the priests into “satraps of the Emperor”, and made them forget their Christian duties. From this destruction of the idea of the state followed in Chelcicky’s teaching the unholiness of war and bloodshed; even defensive war was no better than murder.

The ideas of Chelcicky received an impulse from the progress of the Catholic reaction under Ladislas I, which filled Rokycana with dismay and led him to preach earnestly against the prevailing lukewarmness and sin. Amongst his hearers was one whose soul was deeply moved, and who is known only by the name of Brother Gregory. He was referred by Rokycana to the writings of Chelcicky, which so impressed him that he soon outstripped the zeal of Rokycana, which began to cool when the accession of George Podiebrad opened out better hopes for the moderate Utraquists. Rokycana prevailed on King George to give Gregory and his adherents a settlement at Kenwald in 1457. The colony rapidly increased, and counted amongst its members men of every class and occupation. They called themselves ‘Brothers’ and formed a community on a religious basis, according to the principles of Chelcicky. At first they employed the ministrations of a neighboring priest, but in 1467 they went so far as to ordain priests of their own; following the precedent of the Apostles in the choice of Matthias, they selected nine and then cast lots for three. This act marked a breach not only with the Roman Church, but also with the Utraquists, and Rokycana demanded that the Brotherhood should be suppressed. King George saw in these ‘Brethren of the Law of Christ’, as they now called themselves, the heretics whom the Pope called on him to root out of his kingdom. They defended themselves by offering to prove from Scripture “that men are right in laying aside obedience to the Roman Church, that the authority of the Pope is not grounded on the power of God's Spirit, that his rule is an abomination before God, that Christ’s word gives him no power of blessing or of cursing, that he has not the keys to decide between right and wrong, nor the power to bind and to loose”. There could be no clearer expression of the difference between the new church and the old. King George prepared to put down these heretics in 1468, but the inroad of Mathias called him to employ his energy elsewhere. What George could have accomplished was too hazardous for his successor. The Bohemian Brothers were sometimes threatened and sometimes persecuted; but they continued to hold together, living a life of Christian socialism. At the end of the century their numbers were computed at 100,000, and they formed a compact body whose power of protest against the Roman Church was far more influential than that of the vacillating Utraquists whom the Papacy was so keen to destroy. By its violent proceedings against Bohemia the Papacy only intensified, by concentrating, the opposition which it strove to overcome.

However we regard the Bohemian policy of Paul II, we see that, if the gain was dubious, the loss was manifest.

CHAPTER II.

PAUL II AND HIS RELATIONS TO LITERATURE AND ART

While considering the pontificate of Nicolas V we saw one side of the revival of learning in Italy, when the movement retained its first freshness, when Papacy its tendencies were as yet undeveloped, and the Papacy hoped to use it as a means of spreading its new glories. Besides the prevailing fashion of the age, the struggle against the Council of Basel and the negotiations with the Greeks had led the Papacy to feel the need of learned and literary champions of the new school. While the Italian courts patronized literary adventurers who were ready, like Lorenzo Valla, to use their pens against the Pope, even a monk like Eugenius IV did not venture to repulse the new learning. While the Council of Basel was a field where ambitious scholars might flesh their pens in invective against the Pope, the Papacy could not afford to dispense with literary gladiators. The Council of Florence brought to the West a train of learned Greeks, whose help was useful to the Latin theologians in combating the metaphysics of the orthodox party among the Greeks. The Papacy was too much indebted to the Humanists to repudiate them. Nicolas V placed himself at their head, and was a patron of scholars, whom he employed in making known the records alike of classical and biblical antiquity. He was without fear of the results, and showed no consciousness of the antagonism between the traditions of the Church and the lore of the ancients.

The literary glories of the pontificate of Nicolas V were but an episode in the history of Rome. Nicolas V had been trained in Florence, and the literary men of his court had mostly been formed under the patronage of Cosimo de' Medici. Rome did not long contend with Florence as the centre of Humanism. The work of Nicolas V was short-lived, and Pius II did not attempt to carry it on. Perhaps he felt a little uneasy about the future. Perhaps he had a dim remembrance of his own attitude towards religious and moral questions in his early days. At all events, he stood aloof from the main current of the Renaissance, and did not try to enlist the Humanists in the service of the Papacy.

There were, indeed, manifold signs that the new learning was eating out the heart of the religious sentiment of Italy, and that in so assiduous a way that it was hard to see when and how the voice of protest should be raised. The Renaissance did not set before its votaries a definite system of thought, nor did it oppose any of the doctrines of the Church. It was an attitude of mind rather than a scheme of life. It did not attack Christianity, but it turned men’s eyes away from Christianity. It did not contradict ecclesiastical dogma, but it passed it by with a shrug as unworthy of the attention of a cultivated mind. The discovery of antiquity showed so much to be done in this world that it was needless to think much of the next. The Humanists were content to pursue their studies, to steep themselves in classical ideas, and to leave theology to those whose business it was. They were in no sense reformers of the world around them. So long as they were respected and patronized, they found the world a very pleasant place, and did not wish to change it. Their studies did not lead them to action, but supplied a mental emancipation. Outward affairs might go as they pleased : the man of culture had a safe refuge within himself. He lived in a world of beauty which was his own possession, won by his own learning. For him there were no fetters, no restraints; he regarded himself as privileged, and his claim was generally allowed. To him the aim of life was to develop the powers of the individual, who was justified in using any means to find a sphere in which these powers could be fully exercised.

The danger of these tendencies must have been apparent to many minds, but it was not so obvious how the danger was to be met. A heresy might be condemned: an intellectual attitude could scarcely even be defined. Pius II did nothing more than refuse to patronize the Humanists, who repaid his neglect by insulting his memory. Meanwhile the new learning was making strides. It was raising up a new school of philosophy, whose bearing towards the Church at first seemed orthodox, and round the new philosophy it was attaining to a definite organization.

The new philosophy was a direct result of the Council of Florence, and the consequent introduction into Italy of Greek scholars, more numerous and more learned than had been known before. Amongst those who came to Italy with John Palaeologus in 1438 was a remarkable man who is known by the name of Gemistos Plethon;

Georgios Gemistos was born at Constantinople in 1355, and travelled in pursuit of occult knowledge in various quarters. He finally settled at Mistra, near the site of the ancient Sparta, in the Peloponnese. There he became famous as a teacher, and gathered round him many scholars, chief amongst whom was Bessarion. He was summoned, as the most learned of the Greeks, to take part in the disputes against the Latins. But though he came to Italy at the bidding of the Greek Church, theological questions had no interest for him. He was already convinced that the spirit of the Greeks was degenerate, and could only be restored by a new religion and a revived philosophy. He told his views to his scholars, though probably they only regarded them as the visions of a student. When he came to Florence, a venerable old man of eighty-three, with long flowing beard and calm dignified mien, he created an enthusiasm amongst the Florentine scholars. There was a general curiosity in Italy to know something of Plato, and Gemistos was well versed in Plato’s writings. Instead of attending the Council he poured forth his Platonic lore, and uttered dark sentences to a circle of eager Florentines. Cosimo de' Medici was delighted with him, and hailed him as a second Plato. Gemistos modestly refused the title, but playfully added to his name, Gemistos, the equivalent, Plethon, which approached more nearly to his master’s name.

Amidst this admiring circle of Florentine scholars Gemistos uttered strange sayings for an orthodox theologian of the Greek Church. He spoke of a new universal religion, which was to absorb all existing systems, Christendom and Islam alike. He pointed for its source to the inspiration of classical antiquity. Most probably the Florentines did not pay much attention to these vague utterances. They were not in search of a religion, they aspired to no scheme of national regeneration; but they longed for a knowledge of Plato’s philosophy as the source of greater illumination.

Gemistos Plethon returned from Florence to his school at Mistra, and plunged still further into his scheme of a new religion. As his philosophical ideas awakened so much enthusiasm in Italy, it is worthwhile examining the religious conceptions to which they led. In 1448 Gemistos wrote a treatise on the question of the Procession of the Holy Ghost, defending the Greek view against that of the Latins. He wrote, however, not as a theologian but as a philosopher, not from the point of view of Scriptural evidence, but from the reasonableness of the thing in itself. He set up what he calls “the Hellenic theology”, by which he meant his own religious system, in opposition to that of the Church, and then proved the orthodox doctrine from this new theology. He argued that all difficulties about the Procession of the Holy Ghost vanished if, instead of the doctrine of the Church that the Son was equal to the Father, the teaching of the Hellenic theology was accepted, whereby were recognized many children of the Supreme Being, differing in power and other attributes. He sent his book to the Patriarch Gennadios, himself a distinguished scholar under his former name of Georgios Scholarios. Gennadios was in a difficult position. The book supported the orthodox doctrine, and few would care to follow him in inquiring too closely into its method. Gemistos was an old man, of great reputation, and it was not worthwhile to risk a quarrel with him. Gennadios answered with much tact, approving the object of the treatise, but delicately rebuking its arguments. At the end, however, he uttered words of warning :

“After God’s revelation of Himself, how is it possible that there should be men willing to construct new gods, and attempt to rekindle the unreasoning theogonies that have long been quenched? How can they go back to Zoroaster, and Plato, and the Stoics, gathering a crowd of senseless words? If such like writings should ever fall into my hands, I will expose their emptiness, and many others will do likewise. I would subject them to arguments, not to the fire; the fire is more fitting for their authors”.

Yet Gennadios was not as good as his word. After the death of Plethon his Book of the Laws fell into the hands of Gennadios, who, after reading it, committed it to the flames, and ordered all copies to be burned. He found it “full of bitterness against Christians, mocking at our beliefs, not gainsaying them by argument, but setting forth his own”.

The efforts of Gennadios were successful, and only fragments of the treatise of Gemistos have survived; but they show a wondrous attempt to revive paganism on a philosophic basis. Gemistos represents himself as seeking the way of truth ignored by men. He took as his guides the law-givers and wise men of antiquity, especially Pythagoras and Plato, and by their help constructed a new theogony, in which Zeus was set up as the supreme god, whose attributes were being, will, activity, and power. From him sprang two orders of inferior deities, one legitimate, the other illegitimate children. The legitimate children of Zeus are the Olympian gods at whose head stands Poseidon; the bastard children are the Titans. This strange classification was due to Gemistos’ desire to construct a theogony which should harmonize with his system of logic. The Olympian gods were the eternal ideas; the Titans were the ideas expressed in form and matter. Below these supra-celestial gods were the legitimate and illegitimate children of Poseidon, who range from planets to demons; below them again were men and beasts and the material world.

This new religion Gemistos seriously elaborated into a system by drawing up a calendar, a liturgy, and a collection of hymns. He gathered round him a band of converts who looked upon their master as inspired by the spirit of Plato. It is a testimony to the influence of Gemistos on Italy that five years after his death his bones were brought from their resting place in the Peloponnesus by the impious Gismondo Malatesta, who placed them in a sarcophagus set in the side arcade of his wondrous church at Rimini. The inscription calls Gemistos “the chief philosopher of his time”.

The system of Gemistos was a fantastic revival of Neo-platonism; and never did philosophy make a more futile attempt to provide a religion than in the logical cosmogony of Gemistos, from which the religious element has entirely disappeared. A student of philosophy imperfectly understanding the system which he professed to follow, clothed his philosophic ideas in the incongruous garments of a religion with which he had long since ceased to sympathize. Gemistos saw that men seemed to need a religion; he threw his opinions into what he supposed to be a religious shape. Yet crude as was his attempt, it pointed to an intellectual question which was of great moment in the future. The theology of the Schoolmen had been built up in accordance with the system of Aristotle, whose philosophy was regarded as entirely orthodox. The discovery of Plato threatened to overthrow the supremacy of Aristotle. How were the opinions of Plato likely to influence the movement of thought? Plato corresponded to the imaginative yearnings with which the new learning filled the minds of its nobler students. It is true that his writings were imperfectly known, and that his system was confounded with that of the later Alexandrian writers. Yet men seized upon the poetical side of his teaching, which they adapted to the dreams of an intellectual childhood. The more religious minds felt the charm of Plato's conception of linking together the material and the immaterial world, and they set themselves to examine how far the doctrines of Christianity were contained implicitly in Plato's teaching. In Italy this process led to a dangerous paring away of the edges af ecclesiastical dogma; in Germany it animated the rise of a new theology which sought after a direct consciousness of relationship between the soul and God.

The influence of Gemistos Plethon was carried to Rome by his distinguished scholar, Cardinal Bessarion, whose orthodoxy was above suspicion, but who nevertheless was in some degree imbued by his master’s spirit. On the death of Gemistos, Bessarion wrote a letter of condolence to his sons. “I hear”, he says, “that our common father and guide, laying aside all mortal garments, has removed to heaven and the unsullied land, to take his part in the mystic dance with the Olympian gods”. This isstrange language in a Cardinal’s mouth, but does not show that Bessarion had any sympathy with the paganism of Gemistos. It shows, however, the double life which the Humanists led: they were ready to talk the language of the Bible or the language of classical antiquity, as occasion needed. They had ceased to be conscious of much antagonism between the two, each of which corresponded to different sides of their nature. The new learning had become an insidious solvent of any definiteness in religious beliefs.

Bessarion did much for the study of Plato. He freed himself from the extravagances of Gemistos, and in the controversy which raged between the partisans of Aristotle and those of Plato he held a moderating position. But George of Trapezus carried his attack upon Plato so far that he drew from Bessarion a work "Against the Calumniator of Plato" which raised the knowledge of Plato to a higher level than it had before reached, and established the claim of that philosopher to the attention of the orthodox. Bessarion, moreover, was the centre of a literary circle, and the Academy called by his name was famous throughout Italy. He formed a large library, which he bequeathed to Venice, where it formed the nucleus of the library of S. Marco.

POMPONIUS LAETUS.

The system of Academies rapidly spread throughout Italy, and gave the men of the new learning a definite organization whereby they became influential bodies with a corporate existence. In Rome Bessarion’s example furnished a model to the Roman Academy, whose founder was another of those who owed something to the influence of Gemistos. He was a strange man, who loved to shroud his private life in mystery. He called himself Pomponius, as being a good old Roman name, and to this he added Laetus, as a description of the joyousness of his temperament, though at times Laetus was exchanged for Infortunatus.

The real name of Pomponius Laetus was Piero: he was a native of Calabria, a bastard of the noble house of the Sanseverini. In early life he came to Rome and was a pupil of Lorenzo Valla, whom he succeeded as the chief teacher among the Roman Humanists. Whether he travelled in Greece or no we cannot say; but he seems to have come in the way of Gemistos, who probably quickened his taste for a revived paganism. Pomponius, however, was not a Platonist, and did not devote his attention to the study of Greek antiquity. He had no interest in inaugurating a new religion, but was content to imbibe the inspiration of the city of Rome, and gave himself unreservedly to its influence. “No one”, says his friend Sabellicus, “admired antiquity more; no one spent more pains in its investigation”. He explored every nook and corner of old Rome, and t stood gazing with rapt attention on every relic of a bygone age : often, as he looked, his eyes filled with tears, and he wept at the thought of the grand old times. He despised the age in which he lived and did not conceal his contempt for its barbarism. He sneered at religion, openly expressed his dislike of the clergy, and inveighed bitterly amongst his friends against the pride and luxury of the Cardinals. A story is told that one day an enemy asked him publicly if he believed in the existence of God; “Yes”, he answered, “because I believe that there is nothing He hates more than you”. The deity which Pomponius adored was the Genius of the City of Rome. He set an example, which was long followed, of celebrating the city's birthday with high festivities amongst a circle of congenial spirits. In later times men dated from the festivals of Pomponius the beginning of the downfall of faith.

The temper of Pomponius, as shown in the affairs of life, was that of a Stoic. He was poor and sought none of the prizes which literary men in his day so keenly pursued. When his wealthy relatives wished to claim him after he had become famous, and invited him to come and live at Naples, he returned them an answer which has become famous as a model of terseness. “Pomponius Laetus to his relatives sends greeting. What you ask cannot be. Farewell”. He lived simply in a little house on the Esquiline, and hired a vineyard in the Quirinal, which he cultivated according to the precepts of Varro and Columella. His other amusement was to keep birds, whose habits he carefully observed. He always dressed in the same manner; though simple in all things, he was scrupulously clean and neat. His only interests were in exploring classical antiquity and teaching the students who flocked to his lectures. He rose early in the morning, and often needed the help of a lantern to guide him to his school, where there was scarcely room for the overflowing audience which had already assembled. There was nothing striking in his appearance. He was a small common-looking man, with short curly hair that turned grey before its time, and little eyes deep-set beneath beetling brows; only when he smiled did his face become expressive.

Pomponius was a genuine teacher, who was interested in his scholars. He did not try to make a name by writings, for he said that, like Socrates and Jesus, his scholars should be his books. He gave his attention to his lectures, and delighted in organizing revivals of the old Latin comedies. He trained the actors and superintended the smallest details of stage management when any great man opened his house for the representation of a play of Plautus or Terence. He took the young men of Rome under his fatherly care, and would reprove their misdoings by a shake of the head and a remark, “Your ancestors would not have behaved thus”.

The house of Pomponius was filled with relics of classical art, and the Academy which centered there was the home of very unorthodox opinions. After the Roman dissolution of the College of Abbreviators the Roman Academy became naturally the meeting place of the aggrieved scholars. There they abused the Pope to their hearts’ content, while Pomponius sat by and smiled. They vented their spleen by organizing a foolish protest against the Church and its ceremonies; and the example of Pomponius suggested to them a plan by which they bound themselves into an esoteric society. Instead of their baptismal names, given them from Christian saints, they chose new names from classical antiquity. Filippo Buonacursi called himself Callimachus Experiens, and we find besides Asclepiades, Glaucus, Petreius, and the like. The festival which Pomponius had instituted for the observance of the foundation day of the city suggested in like manner a parody of pagan rites. As a protest against Paul II, Pomponius Laetus was hailed as Pontifex Maximus, and many of the others took priestly titles. They held meetings in the catacombs, and parodied the beginnings of the Christian Church. It was an outburst of silly petulance on the part of men whose heads were turned by vanity, till they showed their spite against the Pope by threatening a revival of paganism.

Perhaps no one took these proceedings seriously except Paul II. He had condemned to do public penance some Fraticelli who had been sent for trial from Poli; how could he punish heresy and allow profanity to flaunt itself unashamed? Perhaps he was not much affected by the display of animosity towards himself, but he could not be indifferent to the dangers of a republican revival in Rome. The examples of Porcaro and Tiburzio were still warnings to a statesman that Brutus was a hero whom it was perilous to resuscitate. The follies of the Roman Academy might lead to political disturbances.

We cannot wonder that Paul II regarded the Roman Academy with suspicion. Its florid classicism, its hostility against the Church, its silly affectation of paganism, were enough to account for his disapproval. But sufficient ground for action was wanting till some vapouring talk of Callimachus Experiens was brought to the Pope’s ear. Then Paul II proceeded to act with promptitude. During the Carnival of 1468 several Roman youths were arrested, and Platina was dragged from the house of Cardinal Gonzaga to the Pope’s presence. Paul II looked on him with scorn, and said, “So you have conspired against us under the leadership of Callimachus”. In vain Platina pleaded his innocence; he was ordered to be taken to the Castle of S. Angelo and be examined by torture. A letter of Pomponius Laetus, who was absent in Venice, which addressed him as “Pater Sanctissime”, was regarded as proof of a conspiracy, and Platina was further accused of trying to urge the Emperor to summon a Council and create a new schism.

Pomponius was sent back from Venice, “dragged in chains”, says Platina, “through Italy like another Jugurtha”. When brought before his inquisitors he showed at first his accustomed spirit. When they asked his reason for assuming the name of Pomponius, he answered, “What would it matter to you or the Pope if I called myself Hayrick?”. But his stoicism rapidly gave way before imprisonment. He set himself to win the good graces of the Castellan of S. Angelo, Rodrigo de Arevalo, a famous theologian, best known by his later title of Bishop of Zamora. At first Pomponius wrote to Rodrigo in terms of scarcely concealed sarcasm; he lauded Paul II in extravagant terms, and compared his magnanimity with that of Christ, who when He was smitten offered the other cheek : even so the Pope, in a crisis of unexampled danger, had pursued his course unmoved. Rodrigo showed himself a match for Pomponius in irony. He congratulated him on the lucky chance now offered to a philosopher of showing his constancy and fortitude, which would otherwise have found no field for their display in the trivial concerns of ordinary life. After receiving this answer, Pomponius began to view the matter more seriously, and while admitting the greatness of the opportunity which he enjoyed, pleaded his innocence of any offence, and asked for books to cheer his solitude. Instead, however, of Lactantius and Macrobius, which were the captive’s choice, Rodrigo sent a treatise of his own, Against the Errors of the Council of Basel, which he doubtless considered to be a proper remedy for the deplorable unorthodoxy of his prisoner. What Pomponius really said when condemned to this unwonted literary diet we can only guess; what he wrote in reply was a fulsome eulogy of Rodrigo’s eloquence, which he preferred to the highest flights of Cicero, because it was animated by a truly Christian spirit. By this letter Pomponius thought that he had cleared the way for a petition. He wrote on the same day in an altered strain; he said that he had been recalling all that the poets sang in praise of solitude; but their solitude, he found, was the solitude of the woods and fields, where they were gladdened by the delights of nature; he, pent in his prison walls, felt the need of kindly friends with whom he might exchange his thoughts. Rodrigo’s turn had now come to triumph in this war of wits, and he had an easy task in penetrating the flimsy armor of stoicism within which Pomponius had professed to stand secure. He dwelt on the pure delights of inward contemplation, treated the complaints of Pomponius as the result of a passing mood, and affectionately besought him not to show himself unworthy of his philosophy. After enjoying his discomfiture for a day or two he took compassion on his prisoners, and allowed them to meet together for talk. Pomponius, in expressing their gratitude, throws his philosophy to the winds. “Man”, he says, “always pines for what he does not possess; when weary of society he praises solitude; when in captivity he longs for freedom; if Diogenes had had bounds set, within which only he might roll his tub, he would have neglected philosophy to devise some means of overcoming his limits”. In this frame of mind Pomponius reconciled his former principles to actual conditions. He longed for liberty, and sought it by writing an abject apology to the Pope, in which he confessed his errors, threw the blame on others, and begged to be released. Paul perhaps felt that such characters as these were scarcely deserving of serious consideration, and might be trusted to profit by the lesson which they had received. Pomponius was soon set free, and was allowed to continue his lectures as before.

Platina did not escape so easily. He was kept in prison for a year and was subjected to many inquisitions. No definite proofs against him seem to have been forthcoming, but Paul was resolved to teach the Roman Humanists a lesson. If he had any suspicions of serious designs, Platina’s letters from prison must have convinced him of the futility of any plots that could be devised by men of such poor spirit. In truth, there was nothing heroic about Platina, and he wrote abjectly, once and again, beseeching the Pope to release him. A prison did not at all suit the luxurious man of letters; he was ready to promise anything, to gain his release. “I undertake”, he writes, “that if I hear anything, even from the birds as they fly past, which is directed against your name and safety, I will at once inform your Holiness by letter or messenger. I entirely approve your proceedings for restraining and reproving the license of the scholars; it is the duty of the chief shepherd to preserve his flock from all infection and disease”. He admits that in his pecuniary straits when he was dismissed from office he lamented unworthily against God and man; but he will never so far forget himself again. If only set at liberty and freed from poverty he will celebrate with all his friends in prose and verse, the name of Paul. Even when attempting to write seriously he cannot forget his literary vanity nor his classical allusions. “Poets and orators are necessary in all states, that the memorials of illustrious men may not perish through want of chroniclers”. He bids the Pope remember that Christ is known through the writings of the Evangelists, the deeds of Achilles through the verses of Homer. If the Pope will only release him he will promise to turn from his classical studies to theology, “where, as in a fertile and flowery meadow, I will gather herbs that are healthful both for body and soul. If he erred it was through academic licence, the freedom engendered by universal study”. In like strain he wrote to all whom he thought had any influence with the Pope, Cardinals Bessarion, Marco Barbo, Borgia, Gonzaga, Ammannati. He repeated to them all the same protestations; he was accused of irreligion; but he had always attended confession, gone to church, and observed God's laws as far as human frailty allowed. Yet in a letter to Pomponius he confessed that the proceedings of the Academicians had given ground for suspicion. “We ought to bear with equanimity that the Pope took heed for his own safety and for the Christian religion”. Platina groveled, but he did not enjoy the process. He took his revenge in later years by writing a life of Paul II. Few of those who read his biography have read his letters, or they would hesitate to give much credence to his ill-natured hints. It is a strong testimony in favor of Paul II that Platina has so little to say against him.

On his release from prison Platina hoped that his persistent groveling had softened the Pope’s heart, and that he would obtain some mark of favor in return for his sufferings. Paul pardoned him, but gave him no reward. It was enough for the Pope that he had satisfied himself that Platina and his friends were only foolish talkers, incapable of doing much mischief; but Platina was strangely mistaken in thinking that Paul had any need of his pen. He was allowed to go back to his former obscurity a little crestfallen, and with vengeance in his heart. Pomponius in like manner resumed his teaching in Rome, where he died in 1498, and was honored by a public funeral. Paul, however, dissolved the Roman Academy and declared that all who mentioned its name, even in jest, were guilty of heresy. Like most of Paul's doings, this decree was reversed by his successor. Sixtus IV allowed the Academy to revive, and it continued till it disappeared in the misery that followed the sack of Rome in 1527.

This persecution of the Roman Academy is a trivial matter in itself, but it has largely influenced the judgment of posterity. In Platina’s life of Paul II this incident is raised into the foremost place, and Paul is represented as hating and despising literature to such a degree that he branded literary men as heretics. From these words of Platina more recent writers have seen in Paul's proceedings a consciousness of the perils wherewith the Renaissance movement threatened the system of the Church.

In truth, however, Paul II was not hostile to literature, and was himself deeply imbued with the spirit of the Renaissance; nor did he foresee in the revival of learning the precursor of the Reformation. Platina has skillfully succeeded in making himself the type of a martyr to learning, instead of an offensive braggart who trusted that the privileged position of a man of letters would cover any insolence or folly. Paul did not persecute scholars, but he put down the Roman Academy as a nuisance, a centre of unseemly buffoonery and sedition, as well as irreligious talk. It would seem that at first the Pope was suspicious of a definite plot against himself. When no evidence was forthcoming on that charge he fell back upon the notorious character of the proceedings of the Academy and decreed its suppression. His precautions may have been exaggerated; his action was certainly high-handed. But the Humanists needed a reminder that they were required to observe the same rules as ordinary citizens, and that no ruler could permit their follies to pass beyond a certain limit.

However, Platina outlived Paul and had the opportunity of telling his story in his own fashion. He had tried conclusions with Paul and had been worsted: but no one thought very seriously of the matter. Sixtus IV made Platina his librarian, and in that dignified position Platina’s early misdoings were forgotten. He liked to tell the tale of his sufferings, and no doubt the tale grew darker every time that it was told, till Platina verily believed himself to have been a martyr to literature, and stamped this legend on the mind of the rising generation of scholars.

No doubt such a belief would not have taken root if Paul II had attached to himself any men of letters. This, however, he showed no desire to do, though Campanus offered to write a history of his pontificate, and Filelfo was desirous to take up his abode in Rome. Paul was civil to Filelfo, and received from him a translation of Xenophon’s Cyropaedia, for which he rewarded the needy old scholar by a present of 400 ducats; but he did not encourage his hope of becoming a regular dependent on the Papal bounty. In fact Paul II found literary men troublesome; they were foul-mouthed and slanderous, and Paul could not endure their license. Even the literary veteran, George of Trapezus, was sent to prison for a month to teach him not to speak evil of previous Popes who had been his patrons. Paul took a common-sense view of the venal literature of his age. He did not care for poetry or rhetorical panegyrics, but he was a student of the Scriptures, of canon law, and history. Both in public and private matters Paul loved directness. Though he was no orator he spoke for himself in public business, and did not heed the sneers at his lack of the finished style of Pius II. In private consistories he discarded Latin and spoke in Italian, which no doubt was a severe shock to official propriety.

Paul II was not only destitute of literary friends; he had few friends of any kind and no favorites. The Cardinals never forgave him for shaking himself loose from the shackles with which they endeavored to bind him at his accession, and Ammannati regarded his sudden death as a judgment upon him for his want of faith. Paul was too sensitive not to feel the breach that had so been created, and he had not the qualities which enabled him to repair it. He grew more and more reserved, and led a somewhat solitary life amidst his outward grandeur. “He is surrounded by darkness”, wrote Ammannati, “he is not wont to make rash assertions, but is more ready to hear than to speak”. This change in his disposition after his election corresponds to his mental attitude. He felt that things were amiss, but he did not see how to mend them, and the Cardinal College had no advice to give. The older Cardinals were the zealots of the Papal restoration; Carvajal could advocate warmly the reduction of Bohemia, but pronounced against any reform of the Church. The younger Cardinals were, like Ammannati, friends of Pius II, or, like Cardinal Gonzaga, men who had been created because their relatives were politically useful in re-establishing the position of the Papacy in Italy. Paul did not find among them any counselors after his own heart; they sufficed for the conduct of current business, but that was all.

In the course of his pontificate Paul created ten Cardinals. He did not, however, increase the College, but merely filled up the vacancies caused by death. In his selection of men for this dignity he showed the same mixed motives as are displayed in the rest of his policy. He did not entirely rise above personal considerations, as he created three of his nephews, the Venetians Marco Barbo, Battista Zeno, and Giovanni Michael; but they were all men of high character, who proved themselves not unworthy of their office. None of them became his favorite, or was especially influential with him, or was unduly enriched. Of the other Cardinals created by Paul II, two, the Neapolitan Caraffa and Francesco of Savona, were chosen for their learning; and the others, amongst whom were Thomas Bouchier, Archbishop of Canterbury, and the Frenchman La Balue, were intended to add to the representative character of the College. When La Balue, in 1469, was imprisoned by Louis XI for his traitorous correspondence with the Duke of Burgundy, Paul did not take his stand on ecclesiastical privilege. La Balue was tried and condemned in France; the Pope contented himself with sending a few judges to assist at the trial.

In the creation of Cardinals Paul II showed his general impartiality and his good intentions. His fame has suffered because he was impartial and well-intentioned, because he identified himself with no party, and pursued no personal ends. Reserved and sensitive he went on his way, and where his mind was made up he made all bend to his will. With him, as with many men of a fine nature which has not been disciplined by experience, geniality in a private capacity gave way to coldness in the discharge of public duty. Naturally kindly and sympathetic, he shrank from responsibility, and only assumed it by an effort of self-repression, which he knew that any display of personal feeling would destroy. As a consequence his manner seemed abrupt, and he was misjudged and misrepresented. It pained him to refuse petitions which were presented to him, and he more and more withdrew himself from granting audiences, which was put down to heedlessness and neglect of his duties. It is characteristic of him that he received petitioners as he walked about, that he might not be obliged to see their imploring faces, and might be spared the sight of their disappointment. But when he detected imposture his anger was aroused. One day he turned round sternly and said to one who pleaded, “You are not speaking the truth”; whereupon a pet parrot who was perched in the room immediately flew upon the object of the Pope's anger, exclaiming, “Turn him out, turn him out, he is not speaking the truth” .

The same shrinking from causing pain made Paul II merciful as a ruler of Rome. Whenever he heard the bell of the Capitol toll for an execution he turned pale and clutched his breast to check the beating of his heart. This unwillingness to disappoint others led him to live by himself and shun interviews. He was apparently troubled by asthma and could not sleep at night; he took this as an excuse for turning night into day. Men naturally grumbled and accused him of capriciousness and arrogant disregard of others. Personally Paul II was not popular. His stately figure and dignified bearing commanded respect; but men feared rather than loved him. He felt this and was saddened by the feeling. One day a Cardinal asked him why, when he had all that he could desire, he was not content. “A little wormwood”, said the Pope, “can pollute a hive of honey”.

Even the points which Paul II had most in common with his age were not appreciated. He loved magnificence, and it was counted as vainglory. He was a patron of architecture; this was reckoned to be merely a desire to commemorate his name. He was an ardent collector of works of art; because his collection went beyond the prevailing fashion he was accused of simple avarice. Paul had as passionate a love for antique beauty as had Pomponius Laetus; because he had the temperament of an artist and not the pedantry of a scholar he was handed down to posterity as an uncultivated barbarian.

In his love for art Paul went far beyond his time, and may rank as a type of the high-minded and large-souled patron and collector. He knew his own tastes and did not follow the prevailing fashions. The mighty Palazzo di Venezia, as it is now called, remains as a memorial of the great conceptions of Paul and marked the definite triumph of Renaissance architecture in Rome. It was begun while Paul was a Cardinal, and was finished during his pontificate. The adjoining basilica of S. Marco was restored, adorned with frescoes, and its windows were filled with stained glass. He built three rows of arcades in the first court of the Vatican, and erected a pulpit from which the Pope might give the benediction. He resumed the work of Nicolas V in building the tribune of S. Peter's. He preserved the ancient monuments of the city, and most of its churches owe something to his care. His chief architect was Giuliano di San Gallo, and he kept in constant employment a number of jewelers and embroiderers who made vestments and ornaments which he bestowed on the Churches in the Patrimony.

The distinguishing feature of the private life of Paul II was that he was an enthusiastic collector of objects of art. He began the habit in his youth, and when he died ha had brought together in his Palace of S. Marco the richest artistic collection that had been formed since the fall of the Roman Empire. As soon as he became Cardinal he commissioned agents to search for him throughout Italy; and many a struggle, such as collectors love, he waged for the possession of some prized object with the Medici, Alfonso of Naples, and Leonello of Este. How skillful he was may be gathered from a letter of Carlo de' Medici, who wrote that he had picked up in Rome from a servant of the great medalist, Pisanello, thirty silver medals. Cardinal Barbo heard of this find, met the unsuspecting Carlo in church one morning, took him graciously by the hand and walked with him to his house, here he contrived to get hold of Carlo’s purse containing the medals, relieved it of its treasures and refused to return them. No doubt he paid their full value; for he did not like to be under any obligation, and when he was Pope he wrote to the King of Portugal, who sent him a sapphire ring, “our custom, long and diligently observed, is not to receive gifts”. He showed the same temper about his manuscripts, for it was observed that he was always ready to lend and slow to borrow.

Before he became Pope his museum in the Palace of S. Marco was large and precious; during his pontificate he was always eager to increase it. Cardinal Ammannati wrote to a friend, Helianus Spinula, who was anxious to obtain the Pope’s good graces for his son, that he had spoken on his behalf. Paul II interrupted him, “I know the man; he has the same tastes as we have, and uses his eyes to discern things that are of excellent workmanship. He has treasures which he has gathered from Greece and Asia. He could do me a great favor by letting me have some things from his collection, not, however, as a gift, for our custom has always been to pay, and to pay liberally, for what pleases us”. Ammannati asked what the Pope chiefly desired. “Images of the saints”, answered Paul, “of old workmanship, which the Greeks call Icons, Byzantine tapestries, woven or embroidered, old pictures and sculptures, vases, especially of precious stones, ivory carvings, gold and silver coins, and such like”.

Paul’s tastes were catholic, and he was not merely content with collecting, but had excellent taste and a great knowledge of archaeology. It was remarked with wonder that he knew at a glance the busts of the various Roman Emperors. He caused his collection to be catalogued and every object carefully described. The descriptions show us that mythology was imperfectly understood, and that the knowledge of emblems was still in a rudimentary stage. From this catalogue we learn that Paul had gathered together forty-seven antique bronzes, two hundred and twenty-seven cameos, three hundred and twenty intaglios, ninety-seven ancient gold coins, and about a thousand silver coins and medals, besides Byzantine ivories, mosaics, enamels, embroideries, and paintings, as well as jewelry, goldsmith's work, and tapestries of his own age, and a large number of uncut precious stones. This splendid collection was appropriated by Paul’s successor. The precious stones were sold to Lorenzo de' Medici, the bronzes probably formed the nucleus of the Capitoline Museum, the rest was gradually dispersed. Even in this point also the achievements of Paul II were remorselessly swept into oblivion.

The reason why Paul’s enjoyment of art was not understood by his contemporaries, was probably because it was merely sensuous and not antiquarian. He loved things for their own preciousness, not for the associations which hung around them. Men in those days had no sympathy with his habit of playing with precious stones and gazing with delight upon their luster; in such a simple source of pleasure they saw only the gloating of avarice. It must be owned that Paul carried his passion to the verge of childishness. He took jewels to bed with him; he kept them in hiding-places that he might refresh himself by the sight of them when he had a moment of solitude. After the death of Sixtus IV, Cardinal Barbo recognized in the Pope’s private room a writing-desk which had been a favorite piece of furniture of his uncle. On looking into it he found a secret drawer containing seven large sapphires and other stones to the value of 12,000 ducats.

Paul II was in all things a child of his age; but his fineness of character showed him that his age was in no good way. For himself, he strove to check its worst impulses, and uphold a standard of justice and honor. His only luxury was magnificence; in his private life he was simple and even abstemious. He lacked the force necessary to give decisive effect to his good intentions, and men saw only the outside of his life and character. The beginnings that he made towards better things were so entirely swept away by his impetuous successor that posterity gave him no credit for his fruitless efforts. His pontificate was a time of conscious perplexity in himself, which he was too reserved to confide to others. He acted tentatively, almost despondingly, and led a solitary life. Later times dated from him the decline of the Papacy. It must be admitted that he made organic reform impossible, and lowered the standard of honor amongst the Cardinals. He lived long enough to see the hopelessness of personal efforts to amend a system which refused all help from outside, and admitted no restraint upon its omnipotence. He learned the lesson that autocracy is practically dependent upon its officials, whom it is powerless to restrain.

CHAPTER III.

SIXTUS IV AND THE REPUBLIC OF FLORENCE

1471—1480.

The death of Paul II was so unexpected that only seven Cardinals out of the twenty-six were present at the Conclave on August 6. It would seem that there was no decided motive in choosing a new Pope, and the first voting was very scattered. In the second voting Cardinals Estouteville, Calandrini, Capranica, and Ammannati united in favor of Bessarion as the oldest member of the College, a man of note, and one whose election was likely to cause a speedy vacancy. But the old objection to Bessarion as a Greek again revived, and he would not be politically acceptable to France or to the Italian princes. Cardinals Borgia, Orsini, and Gonzaga set up against him Francesco of Savona, whose claims on the ground of learning and high character might fairly be opposed to those of Bessarion. It was urged against him that he had only been a Cardinal for four years, and that his election was a decided slight to many senior to himself; but his supporters managed to clear away objections, and Francesco was elected on August 9.

The election of Francesco di Savona awakened great surprise, and showed that the Cardinals still adhered to their policy of having a Pope who would extend their privileges and rule according to their will. At the same time it was a testimony to the influence of Paul II that they did not venture to choose an entirely obscure and weak man. Francesco had won his way to the Cardinalate solely by his reputation for theological knowledge and for a blameless life. He was of such lowly origin that he had not a name of his own. His father was a poor peasant in a little village near Savona, and at the age of nine Francesco was handed over to the Franciscans to be educated. He acted for a time as tutor with the family of Rovere in Piedmont, and from them he took the name by which he was afterwards known. His talents and his industry were great, and he lectured on philosophy and theology at Bologna, Padua, Pavia, Florence, and Perugia. At Pavia Bessarion attended Francesco's lectures, and was struck by his learning. When he rose to the post of General of the Franciscan Order, and distinguished himself by his reforming zeal, the recommendations of Bessarion found an echo in the inclinations of Paul II, and Francesco was elevated to the Cardinalate. At Rome he was regarded as a profound scholar, and he increased his reputation by a treatise On the Blood of Christ, a contribution to the controversy between the Dominicans and the Franciscans, which Pius II had vainly striven to appease. At the time of his election he was fifty-seven years old.

A reputation for learning and a high character would not have been enough to secure Francesco's election to the Papacy. The Cardinals were entirely undecided, and there was a good opportunity for adventurous intrigue. It would seem that this was clear to a young Franciscan, Piero Riario, the nephew and favorite of Cardinal Francesco, who acted as his attendant in the Conclave. Piero, seeing the prevailing indecision, had no scruple in making a bargain with the most influential Cardinals; and its results were seen immediately after the election, when Cardinal Orsini was made Chamberlain, Cardinal Borgia received the rich abbey of Subiaco, and Cardinal Gonzaga that of S. Gregorio. The gratitude of the new Pope had been already discounted by the operations of his nephew Piero, and with the election of Sixtus I began a system of personal intrigue which rapidly grew into a serious scandal. The beginning of his pontificate was tumultuous. Angered at a crush caused by a sudden stoppage of the cavalcade, the crowd threw stones at the Pope's litter, when, on August 25, he was crowned under the title of Sixtus IV.

The-first steps of Sixtus IV promised a return of the Papacy to the region of European politics. The new Pope resumed the plans of Pius II, and again set forth to Christendom the duty of a crusade against the Turks. He issued an encyclical letter for this purpose, and negotiated with the Emperor for the summons of a Council to prepare for the Holy War. Frederick III proposed Udine for its meeting-place. Sixtus IV replied that the Italian powers would not consent to Udine, and he himself dared not go so far from the Papal States; he proposed Rome, but offered to go to Mantua or Ancona. The negotiations for a Council came to nothing; but Sixtus IV sent out legates, Bessarion to France, Borgia to Spain, Marco Barbo to Germany, and appointed Caraffa admiral of a fleet which, after the example of Calixtus III, he began eagerly to build on the Tiber.

The legates met with no better success than their predecessors in the same business. Bessarion found Louis XI too busied with his plans against England and the Duke of Burgundy to pay any attention to projects for a crusade. He succeeded in establishing better relations between the King and the Holy See, but returned without having furthered the object of his mission, and died of fever in Ravenna in November, 1472. Borgia went to Spain, delighted to display his magnificence in his native Valencia, where he met with a splendid reception; but the Spanish kingdoms had troubles of their own to occupy their attention, and Borgia was scarcely likely to kindle spiritual zeal by the exhibition of his vanity and self-seeking. It is not surprising that he also accomplished nothing. In Germany Barbo had a more difficult task. Sixtus IV espoused the cause of Mathias against Ladislas in Bohemia, and threatened the adherents of Ladislas with excommunication. The legate’s energies were consumed in fruitless attempts to arrange the strife for Bohemia between the Kings of Poland and Hungary, and to bring about a good understanding between the Emperor and the Electors; he returned in 1474 empty-handed from Germany.

Meanwhile Sixtus IV had equipped twenty galleys against the Turks, and gave his solemn benediction to the admiral’s ship before it set out to Brindisi to join the contingents of Venice and Naples. The combined fleet made a series of plundering raids on the Turkish coast, but caused more terror than damage to the foe. In January, 1473, Caraffa returned to Rome and made a triumphal entry with twelve camels and twenty-five Turkish prisoners. It was a novel spectacle, but a scanty return for the expenses of the armament.

Sixtus IV had now gained sufficient experience of the prospects of a crusading policy. It would seem that he had resolved to give a fair trial to the old political traditions of the Papacy before entering upon a new sphere of action. He paused to justify in his own eyes the transition from a Franciscan reformer to an Italian prince. He was not prepared to adopt the tentative attitude of Paul II, but was resolved to pursue some definite course of his own. If his energy could be employed in carrying out the plan already marked out by his predecessors, he was willing to devote himself to that work; but the results of the survey of Europe which was taken by his legates were not encouraging. Everywhere were struggles conducted for national aggrandizement. Religious principles were everywhere weak, morals were corrupt, spiritual agencies were feeble. Before a crusade was possible, years of conciliatory diplomacy and ecclesiastical reform would be necessary to heal the breaches of Europe and revive the religious basis of its life.

Perhaps Sixtus IV saw that this was the issue which lay before him j if so, he rapidly dismissed it as uncongenial to his character. Beneath the frock of the Franciscan, beneath the retiring habits of a student, was concealed the passionate nature of an Italian of the Renaissance. Sixtus IV was determined to leave his mark upon the events of his pontificate; he was strong in the strength of an individual character. Already the Italian spirit had invaded the traditions of the papal office; and since the days of Eugenius IV each Pope had thought more of signalizing his own pontificate than of upholding the continuity of the papal policy. In Sixtus IV the Italian spirit entirely triumphed, and the Papacy boldly adopted the current aims and methods of the Italian powers which hemmed it in.

If Europe in general was in an evil plight, Italy was even more corrupt than other countries. During the dark days of the Schism and the General Councils, when the papal power was practically in abeyance, Italian politics had developed with marvelous rapidity. Commerce had prospered; wealth and luxury had increased; the desire for material comfort had absorbed men’s energies; the culture of the Renaissance had thrown a graceful veil of paganism over self-seeking. Popular liberty had everywhere disappeared before absolutism. The State centered round the person of its individual ruler, who contented his subjects by a display of outward magnificence, and condoned his tyranny by fostering commerce and affording full scope for the particular interests of his people. The stronger rulers made their power still more absolute; the condottieri strove to become independent princes; the smaller lords served the greater, and by their military activity protected themselves against the results of their reckless tyranny.

In the midst of this seething sea of intrigue lay the Papal States, a tempting prize to adventurers small and great. It might well be a question for a sagacious Pope how he was to preserve the temporal sovereignty of the Papacy in the existing movement of Italian politics. The state of Italian thought and feeling left no room for sentiment, and paid no heed to the lofty claims of the Papal office. Ladislas of Naples had aimed at secularizing the lands of the Church; his plans had been eagerly pursued by Braccio; and only a lucky accident had diverted Francesco Sforza from seeking his fortunes at the expense of the Papacy. Ferrante of Naples was not a neighbor who could be trusted to withstand the temptation of a favorable opportunity. Rome itself was turbulent and was exposed to the constant intrigues of petty tyrants in the neighborhood. The Counts of Anguillara had long defied the Pope; hordes of bandits made access to Rome difficult and pillaged pilgrims on their way to the tombs of the Apostles. Within Rome itself the Popes could not feel themselves secure. Eugenius IV had been driven out; the conspiracies of Porcaro and Tiburzia against Popes so excellent as Nicolas V and Pius II showed the presence of threatening elements of disaffection, and suggested suspicions of dangerous intrigues on the part of some of the Italian powers.

No doubt the Papacy, if it had been strong in its moral hold of Europe, could have disregarded the menacing condition of Italian affairs. But the repeated negotiations about the crusade showed the Papacy clearly enough that nothing was to be expected from a united Christendom. Italian politics only expressed with greater definiteness the prevalent condition of Europe. Everywhere men were busy with questions that concerned their own material well-being. The hold of the Church was slight over men's affections. The chief ecclesiastics were relatives of kings and princes and were engaged in secular pursuits. The Papacy had not behaved towards Germany in a way to inspire respect; the French crown had laid a firm hand on the Church by means of the Pragmatic Sanction. The great allies of the Papacy in a former age, the Preaching Friars, had forfeited their hold upon the people; and the attempt of Eugenius IV to galvanize them into renewed vitality had proved a failure. Pius II had shown the hopelessness of uniting Europe for any common object. Paul II had swept away the last ecclesiastical problem which faced the Papacy by crushing George Podiebrad in Bohemia,

It is to the credit of Sixtus IV that he did not begin a new policy till he had convinced himself of the futility of the traditional policy of his office. When that was clearly hopeless he turned to the question which lay immediately at hand. If no loftier aim demanded his energies, they should at least be devoted to a useful purpose, to the organization of the papal dominions into a compact state. Previous Popes had trusted for the maintenance of their dominions to the respect generally felt towards the Papacy, and to the support of the powers of Europe; Sixtus felt that neither of these was secure. He resolved no longer to shelter himself behind the claims of the Papacy as an institution, but as a man to enter into Italian politics, and establish his temporal sovereignty by means of men, their weapons and their enterprise. When he looked around him he found the Papacy without friends in Italy. The pacific policy and the moderating position of Paul II had only been maintained by a resolute effort of self-restraint; it was not understood by other powers, and there was no guarantee that it could be safely continued. Sixtus did not think it worthwhile to give it a trial, but decided that he would use the resources and the authority of his office for the protection and extension of its temporal possessions.

For this purpose he combined natural affection with statecraft, and elevated nepotism into political principle. If the Pope were to act decisively, he must have lieutenants whom he could entirely trust, whose interests were bound up with his, and who could use for the furtherance of the papal rule the resources which the Pope could supply. Other Popes had been nepotists a little, but to Sixtus IV nepotism stood in the first place. The schemes of Urban VI for his nephews’ aggrandizement had been wild and crude; Boniface IX had used his relatives as trusty henchmen; Martin V had employed the existing power of the Colonna family for his own purposes; Calixtus III had given his nephews a secure position in Rome; and Pius II had gratified his strong feeling of affection towards his native place by surrounding himself with Sienese relatives. Sixtus IV disregarded all considerations of decorum; he took his nephews, men of no position and little capacity, and placed at their disposal all the resources of the Roman See. They were to be magnificent puppets on the stage of Italian politics, moved by the Pope’s hand, executing the Pope's schemes, and bringing back their spoils to the Pope's feet

Sixtus had only taken possession of the papal throne, when in December 15, 1471, he raised to the Cardinalate two of his relatives, Giuliano della Rovere, son of his brother Raffaelle, and Piero Riario, the orphan son of his sister, whom he had brought up from early years. Piero was aged twenty-five, and as yet unknown save for his dexterity in the Conclave; the other nephew, Giuliano, was also a Franciscan, of the age of twenty-eight, equally undistinguished. The Cardinals vainly opposed the creation of two youths, of obscure parentage and of no experience in affairs: they lamented the disregard shown by the Pope to the regulations laid down by the Conclave; they recognized sadly that supreme power meant supreme licence, and they said that Sixtus would heed them no more than Paul II.

On Cardinal Riario the Pope heaped preferment. He first made him Bishop of Treviso; then the bishoprics of Sinigaglia, Mende, Spalato, Florence, the patriarchate of Constantinople, the abbacy of S. Ambrose at Milan, and other dignities rapidly followed. His revenues exceeded 60,000 gold ducats. He was omnipotent in Rome and lived a life of luxury and splendor such as had never been seen before. “He gathered”, says a contemporary, “vessels of silver and gold, splendid raiment, tapestries and embroideries, and high-mettled horses; he was surrounded by a countless retinue, clad in silks, with curled hair, rising poets and painters: he delighted in celebrating games, not only the civic games, but tournaments”.

Another nephew, Leonardo della Rovere, brother of Giuliano, was made Prefect of Rome in February, 1472, and soon afterwards was married to a bastard daughter of Ferrante of Naples. He was a small man, and his mind corresponded to his person, says Infessura; but for his sake the Pope sacrificed the papal claims on Naples, remitted the yearly tribute, and restored the Duchy of Sora. Ferrante undertook to guard the shores from pirates, and to send a steed to Rome each year in recognition of the papal suzerainty. Many of the Cardinals murmured at this abandonment of the papal rights; but Sixtus IV was bent upon a close alliance with Naples as a means of securing himself against the powers of Northern Italy, while he carried out his plans against the aggressors in the neighborhood of Rome.

This new policy of the Papacy received a splendid, almost a dramatic, embodiment in June, 1473, when Leonora, another illegitimate daughter of Ferrante of Aragon passed through Rome on her way to Ferrara after her marriage with Duke Ercole d'Este. The magnificence of the papal nephews was employed to certify the firmness of the Pope's friendship to Naples in a way which startled even the luxurious princes of Italy. On Whitsun-eve, June 5, Leonora, with a magnificent suite, entered Rome, and was escorted by the two Cardinal nephews to Riario’s palace next the Church of SS. Apostoli, while the streets were thronged with the Cardinal's retinue. The piazzo in front of the palace was covered in, and turned into a vast theatre. The palace itself was adorned as though S. Peter were descended from heaven to earth again. The walls were entirely hung with the richest stuffs and tapestries; the splendid hangings of Nicolas V, representing the works of the Creation, formed the curtains of the doors which led into the banqueting-hall. Sideboards groaned with costly plate; couches and chairs were covered with the finest stuffs. Fourteen bedchambers were adorned with equal splendor, and in the most magnificent was an inscription, “Who would deny that this chamber is worthy of highest Jupiter? Who would deny that it is inferior to its prince?”. Even the smallest articles of use were made of gold and silver.

On Whitsunday the two Cardinals conducted the Duchess to S. Peter’s, where the Pope celebrated mass and gave her his benediction. At midday a miracle play of Susanna and the Elders was performed by Florentine actors. Next day the splendour of the entertainment reached its height in a grand banquet at which the two nephews, the Duchess, and three of the most illustrious guests sat at one table; three other members of the Duchess’s suite at another. The plate was constantly varied; the attendants were dressed in silk, and the seneschal four times changed his dress during the repast, appearing each time with richer collars of gold and pearls and precious stones. The tables groaned with an endless multitude of dishes, some so vast that they required four squires to bear the gold trays on which they were placed. There was a representation in viands of Atalanta’s race, of Perseus, Andromeda, and the dragon. Peacocks were dressed with their feathers, and amongst them sat Orpheus with his lyre. The name of the Duchess's husband gave occasion for confectioneries shaped to represent the labours of Hercules. During the banquet was a concert and masques. The famous lovers of antiquity, Hercules and Deianira, Jason and Medea, Theseus and Phaedra, danced in triumph: then centaurs entered and tried to carry off the ladies, and a mimic fight ensued. A mountain of sugar was carried in, from which emerged with gestures of amazement a wild man who recited a few verses. A roast bear in his skin, with a stick in his mouth, was one of the most wonderful dishes in this repast, for which every country had been ransacked. Next day was given a representation of the miracle of Corpus Christi, the day following another of the life of John the Baptist. Finally Leonora departed from Rome with rich presents from the all-powerful nephew, who seemed to be son, not brother, of the great Emperor Caesar, and was honored more than the real Pope. No doubt some beholders were struck with amazement at this splendid scene; but more must have exclaimed with Infessura, “See in what things the treasure of the Church is spent”.

Cardinal Riario was, in truth, the ruler of Rome, and the Pope sank into secondary importance. Suitors to the Pope first sought the powerful Cardinal, whose audiences thronged by a crowd of sycophants recalled the days of the Roman Empire. When Riario rode through the streets, he was attended by a troop of a hundred horsemen, and visited the Vatican like a prince. Though insolent he was not unkindly, and liked to distribute favors with a lordly hand. Not content with displaying his magnificence in Rome, he made a progress in the autumn of 1473, armed with extraordinary powers as legate of Umbria. He visited Florence, where he went to take possession of the archbishopric, Bologna, Ferrara, and Milan. Everywhere he was received with royal honors; everywhere were splendid festivities, and venal poets poured forth endless verses in the Cardinal's glory. In Milan, the aspiring Duke, Galeazzo Sforza, besought Cardinal Riario to obtain for him from the Pope the title of King of Lombardy; in return, he promised to aid him to the Papacy on the death of Sixtus IV, and even hinted that Sixtus might be compelled to resign in his nephew’s favor. From Florence the Cardinal proceeded to Venice, and then retraced his steps to Rome. Soon after his return he died, early in 1474, worn out by his excesses at the age of twenty-eight, a warning that an upstart, ignorant of the virtue of moderation, secures his own destruction.

Cardinal Riario was a startling exhibition of the results of nepotism. A lavish expenditure of the wealth of the Church created a prince of the type which Italy could understand. The Pope himself could not enter the lists; but all that he was restrained from doing by virtue of his office, the Cardinal nephew could do in his behalf. The princes of Italy were eclipsed by his grandeur; the resources of the Church were openly exhibited; the political influence of the Papacy was exerted entirely for the glory and advancement of a family. It was clear that the Papacy was a power with which the rulers of Italy would have to reckon, Piero Riario himself had no qualities to commend him save his audacity, and he made no pretence to decorum. He was as profligate as he was luxurious, and flaunted his mistresses in attire of surpassing costliness; even their slippers were embroidered with pearls. So great was his extravagance that during the two years of his Cardinalate he spent 200,000 ducats, and left debts to the amount of 60,000 more. When he died, no one regretted him save the Pope and those who had battened on his follies. Sixtus IV commemorated his nephew by a tomb in the Church of SS. Apostoli; and the recumbent effigy of Piero Riario is one of the best portrait sculptures in Rome. The strongly marked features and aquiline nose give a sense of power, which is borne out by the thin compressed lips, the imperious expression, and the coarse sensual chin. The epitaph which Sixtus IV set over him records his grace, liberality, and high-mindedness; "he had conceived and gave promise of greater things", says the Pope, and we can only hope that his judgment was true.

Sixtus IV bewailed the loss of his nephew with a depth of grief that was thought unbecoming: he called him his son, his only hope. His first thought was one of regret that he had permitted unrestrained profligacy to cut short the life of his favorite, and with characteristic impetuosity he proceeded to frame rules for the regulation of the lives of the Cardinals. A series of articles was drawn up forbidding Cardinals, when they went abroad, to have more than thirty attendants, of whom twelve at least were to be clerical. It is a sign how all ecclesiastical discipline had been relaxed, that the Pope goes on to enjoin that these clerical attendants should wear garments reaching as far as the knee, and were not to dress in various colors. The Cardinals were to content themselves with two courses of meats at table, which, together with relishes, sweets, and dessert, was judged to be sufficient. They were not to keep dogs, indulge in hunting, or have gold trappings for their horses. They were also bidden to wear the tonsure and cut their hair so that the ears were visible. The Pope wished to warn others from the fate of Piero Riario, and thought that this could be done by regulations about outward things. It is needless to say that these sumptuary enactments were rapidly disregarded.

In fact Sixtus soon lost his interest in the good estate of the Cardinals. He soothed his grief for Piero’s death, and found comfort by transferring his affections to Piero’s brother Girolamo, who was a layman. For him he bought from the Duke of Milan the district of Imola; and the purchase included the hand of Caterina Sforza, the Duke's illegitimate daughter. By this transaction Girolamo Riario was fairly launched in Italy, and might be trusted to make his way. Besides him there was yet another nephew to be established, Giovanni della Rovere, brother of the Cardinal Giuliano. He was married to the infant daughter of Federigo of Urbino, who in August, 1474, was invested by the Pope with the title of duke. To give Giovanni a fair start in life, Sixtus conferred on him the district of Sinigaglia and Mondovi, part of the territory which Federigo had with difficulty won for Pius II from Gismondo Malatesta; in 1475 Leonardo della Rovere died, and the Pope further gave Giovanni his office of Prefect of Rome.

It was but natural that this openly avowed policy of family aggrandizement on the part of the Pope should awake a certain amount of uneasiness amongst Italian powers which felt that they might be its victims. Sixtus found Italy at peace in virtue of the pacification made in 1470 by Paul II: but that pacification recognized a separate league between Naples, Florence, and Milan, in reference to the affairs of Rimini. Sixtus was anxious to abolish this separate league as being a hindrance to his schemes. He pleaded that Italy should be entirely united and should offer a firm front against the Turk; he urged that the reasons for a separate league against Paul II did not apply to himself. The diplomacy of the Curia was, however, ineffectual. When Sixtus succeeded in detaching Ferrante of Naples from the league, the only result was that Venice took his place. In 1474 a league of the northern powers stood watching the Pope and the King of Naples.

So matters stood when the year of jubilee came round in 1475. Few pilgrims visited Rome, where there was indeed little to be found to attract the pious soul. Europe was still ringing with stories of the pagan luxury of Cardinal Riario, and Italy was full of uneasy suspicion. The chief pilgrim was Ferrante of Naples, who gave another proof of his good understanding with the Pope. His visit was interpreted only as a political conference of the two powers, who were bent on breaking up the northern league, whose union prevented Girolamo Riario from extending his dominions towards Tuscany and Ferrante from winning back the towns which Venice held in his kingdom.

It was between the Pope and Florence that the rupture first took place; and the two foremost men in Italy, Sixtus IV and Lorenzo de' Medici, stood suddenly and the forward in bitter antagonism. Amidst the changes which had befallen the Italian republics, Florence still remained the most truly Italian. Personal government had taken the place of the civic community, and the prince everywhere represented the state. But in Florence the ruler still remained a Florentine burgher, and owed his position to the fact that his family was so closely connected with the fortunes of the city that it had become by mere force of events the city's representative in all that it held most dear. Other cities had been seized by treachery, had fallen before adventurers, or had passed into the hands of condottieri generals; in Florence the family of the Medici slowly absorbed the state by a complete identification of itself with the city's interests. This had not happened without struggles, and the dangerous ascendency of the Medici had not been gained without craft; but affairs had gone so far that Cosimo de' Medici had no alternative save to rule or quit Florence forever. He made his ascendency complete, but kept it closely veiled. To the outward seeming Florence was governed as before, and Cosimo was but its chiefest and wealthiest citizen; in reality the magistrates were his nominees, and he was counted as an equal by the princes of Europe. Cosimo was succeeded by a weaker son, Piero, whose death in 1469 left the chief position to his two sons Lorenzo and Giuliano. Lorenzo was only twenty-one when the chief men of the city requested him to take care of the state as his grandfather and father had done; and he accepted the task for the preservation of his friends and his substance

At first the relations between the young Lorenzo and Sixtus were most cordial. Lorenzo went as ambassador of Florence to congratulate the Pope on his accession. He was received with great honor, and was given many valuable presents from the artistic treasures left by Paul II. Moreover, as Paul II left little ready money and a large collection of precious stones, Sixtus sold them to Lorenzo at a moderate price, and Lorenzo made a large profit in retailing them afterwards to other princes. He also made Lorenzo treasurer to the Papacy, and so gave the papal business to the Medici Bank which was managed in Rome by Giovanni Tornabuoni, Lorenzo’s uncle. But Lorenzo expected still more from the Pope: his keen eye saw the advantage which would be gained by the Medici family if it could exercise a permanent influence on the Papacy, and he besought Sixtus to raise his brother Giuliano to the dignity of the Cardinalate. The Pope listened, but did not commit himself, though Lorenzo after his return repeatedly urged his wish. The first creation of two nephews gave no sign of the Pope's intention; but the creation in May, 1473, of eight Cardinals, amongst whom Giuliano de' Medici was not included, convinced Lorenzo that he reckoned vainly on any hope of influencing the papal policy.

Moreover the action of Sixtus grew decidedly antagonistic to the Medici. In 1474 he appointed as Archbishop of Pisa, Francesco Salviati, a man politically opposed to the Medici, who vainly tried to have L the nomination set aside. Still more did Florence feel aggrieved at the papal purchase of Imola, on which Florence itself had long had designs. Imola had been in the hands of the Manfredi; but dynastic quarrels had driven them to commit the town to the protection of the Duke of Milan, who had not ventured to sell it to Florence, but could with greater safety hand it over to Girolamo Riario. The Florentines watched with growing anxiety this advance of the papal nephews towards their frontiers, and another occurrence soon increased their suspicions. In the spring of 1474 civic factions in Todi led to a rising against the Pope which spread to Spoleto. Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere showed his military capacity by promptly reducing the rebellious cities; and Spoleto was savagely sacked by his ill-disciplined forces. Finding that Niccolo Vitelli, lord of Citta di Castello, had helped the insurgents, he was not sorry for a pretext to reduce a too powerful vassal of the Holy See. He laid siege to Citta di Castello, whereon the Florentines, alarmed at this disturbance so close to their frontiers, sent forces to Borgo San Sepolcro. Federigo of Urbino came to the camp of the legate, and by the terror of his name Vitelli was driven to make peace, though the terms were not so favorable as the Pope desired. Sixtus IV resented bitterly the attitude of Florence, and complained that it prevented him from becoming master in his own dominions.

At the end of the year 1476 an event occurred which created a profound sensation throughout Italy—the murder of Galeazzo Maria Sforza, Duke of Milan. The impression produced by this assassination was not so much due to the fact in itself as to the motives of the conspirators, which awakened an instinctive sympathy in Italian hearts. Galeazzo Sforza was a typical Italian ruler of his age—splendid in his court, liberal to his subjects, a patron of art and learning, an astute politician, yet oppressive in his taxation, arbitrary in his exactions, and in his private life a lustful tyrant, who behaved with capricious savagery to those who thwarted his will. There was a superfluity of naughtiness in the insolence with which he disregarded all restraints in gratifying his appetites and punishing those whom he suspected. He delighted in the sight of corpses in a tomb : he punished a poacher who had caught a hare by making him eat his capture, skin, entrails and all, till the unhappy man died. Many stories were told of his strange ways and reckless cruelty, and he outraged by his conduct the deepest sentiments of the human heart. Some Milanese youths who attended the lectures of one Cola de' Montani, a teacher of classics, were stirred by the examples of classical antiquity, which his teaching set before them, till they thirsted to follow in the steps of Harmodius and Aristogeiton, Brutus and the rest, who had freed their country from tyranny.

At last three of them, Olgiati, Lampognano, and Visconti, agreed to assassinate the duke according to the models of ancient tyrannicide. Yet reminiscences of Christianity strangely mingled with paganism; and the conspirators prayed at the shrine of S. Ambrose each time they met to practise the method of assassination by attacking one another with the sheaths of their daggers. On the morning of S. Stephen's Day the duke went to mass in the Church of S. Stefano: the three conspirators managed to draw near and slew him as he entered. They had taken no steps to secure any results from their deed; they supposed that liberty naturally followed on the death of a tyrant. Lampognano was cut down in the Church; Olgiati was refused shelter by his father, was made prisoner and condemned to death. In prison he wrote a Latin epitaph on the dead tyrant. On the scaffold he summoned up his courage, saying: “Collect yourself, Girolamo; the memory of your deed will endure; death is bitter, fame is everlasting”. The sole result in Milan of this assassination was that Galeazzo Maria was succeeded by his son Giovanni Galeazzo, a child of eight years old, under the guardianship of his mother Bona of Savoy, and a way was thereby opened to the intrigues of his uncle, Ludovico Sforza. When Sixtus IV heard of the death of Galeazzo Maria, he exclaimed with a truly prophetic spirit: “Today is dead the peace of Italy”.

The murder of the Duke of Milan excited much admiration in Italy. It was so entirely conceived in the antique spirit that it was applauded for its classical motive. A staid Florentine could say that it “was a worthy, manly, and laudable attempt, deserving of imitation by all who live under a tyrant or one like a tyrant”. The example of the Milanese conspirators found imitators in a case where the tyranny was not so manifest, and where the profits to those engaged in the assassination were likely to be larger. A scheme was planned for upsetting the rule of the Medici in Florence; and however the scheme was constructed to begin with, it ended in a poor imitation of the Milanese patriots, with the patriotism and the classical accessories omitted in favor of self-interested motives.

Florence seemed to rest peaceably under Lorenzo de' Medici's rule, which was exercised quietly, and allowed others to wear the appearance of power while the practical direction of affairs remained in Lorenzo's hands. The government of the Medici secured to the Florentines all that they wished for: commercial prosperity, artistic and literary splendor, and a gay life for the people. Yet Lorenzo was always cautious, and never forgot that the power which his grandfather had secured by craft must be maintained in the same way as it had been acquired. He was careful to keep down possible rivals, and allowed no one's influence to vie with his own. However much he might try to conceal this policy, it was impossible that its objects should not recognize and resent it. The wealthiest and most important family in Florence after the Medici was that of the Pazzi, with whom Cosimo had entered into a close alliance by giving his daughter Bianca in marriage to Guglielmo de' Pazzi. Under Lorenzo the good relationship between the two families somewhat cooled; and the Pazzi Bank at Rome was an obstacle to the designs of Lorenzo, who in his anxiety to prevent the sale of Imola to the Pope’s nephew Girolamo, tried to avert it by putting financial difficulties in the Pope's way. The Pope, however, obtained the money by applying to the Pazzi; and as the relations between the Pope and Lorenzo became more unfriendly, he transferred the office of Papal receiver from the Medici to the Pazzi Bank. Thenceforth the Pazzi were on the Pope's side, and the coolness between them and the Medici increased.

It is, however, improbable that the difference would have been serious had not other interests been involved. Girolamo Riario felt his lordship of Imola endangered by the hostility of Florence, One who owed the position entirely to the Pope was only secure during the Pope's lifetime; and the change of government at Milan left him at the mercy of Florence in case the Pope died. Girolamo was no short-sighted politician; he formed the bold scheme of overthrowing the power of the Medici, and used the Pazzi as his instruments for that purpose. Accordingly, he won over to his plan Francesco de' Pazzi, the head of the Bank at Rome, and the Archbishop of Pisa, Francesco Salviati, who nourished his wrongs against Lorenzo, on account of his archbishopric. It soon became obvious to the conspirators that the Medici rule was too securely founded to be upset by any ordinary means; when Francesco de' Pazzi mentioned the matter to his uncle Jacopo at Florence, he found him convinced of the impossibility of success. It was necessary to obtain the Pope's sanction if adherents were to be secured; and Sixtus approved of the overthrow of the Medici if it could be accomplished without bloodshed.

Count Girolamo’s first scheme was to invite Lorenzo de' Medici to Rome and there have him assassinated; he could then proceed against Giuliano in Florence. Lorenzo, however, did not showmuch zeal in accepting Girolamo’s invitation; and it was resolved to attack him in his own city. For this purpose confederates were needed, and an army must be in preparation to take advantage of the confusion in Florence. Count Girolamo chose as his agent a general in his employ, Giovan Battista da Montesecco. When the matter was first confided to him, Montesecco remarked that it was a great and difficult undertaking:

“How will it please the Pope?”, he asked. 

“The Pope”, answered the conspirators, “will do what we wish: moreover he wishes evil to Lorenzo and desires his fall above all things”.

“Have you spoken to him about it?”. 

“Yes”, was the answer, “and we will make him speak to you and tell you his intention”.

When the interview with the Pope took place, Sixtus IV said that he wished for a revolution in Florence, but without the death of any man. 

“Holy Father”, said Montesecco, “it can hardly be done without the death of Lorenzo and Giuliano, and perhaps others”.

Sixtus answered, “I do not wish the death of any man on my account, since it fits not my office to consent to any one’s death; and though Lorenzo is a rascal, I would not have his death, but only a change of government”.

Count Girolamo interposed, “All will be done that is possible to prevent it; only when it has happened your Holiness will pardon him who has done it”.

Sixtus replied to the Count, “You are a beast: I tell you that I do not wish any man’s death, but a change of government”.

Count Girolamo and Archbishop Salviati returned to the charge.

“When you have Florence at your disposal you will dictate to half Italy, and all will wish to have you for their friend; therefore be content that everything be done to arrive at this end”.

The Pope ended the interview by saying, “I tell you I will not have it; go and do what you will, provided there be no killing”.

The Archbishop answered, “Holy Father, be content that we steer this ship, and that we will steer it well”.

The Pope answered, “I am content”.

The attitude of Sixtus in the matter was this: as a states­man he wished for the overthrow of the Medici and gave his countenance to a plan for that object; as Pope he could not be privy to any scheme of assassination. The plot was not of his making; he prudently abstained from asking for details; and the conspirators prudently abstained from confiding them to him. Sixtus cannot be convicted of being privy to an assassination; it may be urged that he expressly stated his objection to any such deed. But he did not demand any assurance that no such thing was contemplated; he heard it hinted and disavowed it, but he did not make his sanction conditional upon its entire withdrawal from the plan. The utmost that can be said in his behalf is that he saved the honor of his office, but he certainly did so in an ambiguous manner.

Armed with the Pope's sanction, Montesecco visited Florence, viewed the scene of action, and succeeded in winning over to the conspiracy Jacopo de' Pazzi, who was reluctantly persuaded. Troops were massed quietly at Imola and confederates were prepared in Florence. Archbishop Salviati found a pretext for visiting Florence, and everything was ready. Count Girolamo thought it well to initiate a young relative into political life under auspicious circumstances, and made a tool of his young nephew, Raffaelle Sansoni, a lad of eighteen, studying at the University of Pisa, whom Sixtus had shamelessly made a Cardinal in December, 1477. Girolamo caused young Cardinal Raffaelle to pay a visit to Florence in April, 1478, as the entertainment of an illustrious guest would offer opportunities to the conspirators. The first plan was to assassinate the brothers at a banquet which was given to the Cardinal in the Medici villa that lies below Fiesole; but Giuliano was unable to be present through sickness and the attempt was put off. The Cardinal then proposed a visit to the Medici at their palace in Florence, and expressed a wish to attend mass in the cathedral on Sunday, April 26. Giuliano sent a message saying that he would not fail to be present in church: and this determined the conspirators to choose that sacred place for their murder. The change of place proved fatal to the success of the plan. The bluff soldier Montesecco, who had undertaken the death of Lorenzo, shrank from the profanation of a church and refused to "make Christ witness of a crime". Two priests, Antonio Maffei and Stefano da Bagnone, undertook the work from which the soldier recoiled in horror; but though less scrupulous, they also showed themselves to be less skillful.

On the morning of April 26, Cardinal Raffaelle arrived at Lorenzo's palace and robed himself for the mass. He was accompanied to the Duomo by Lorenzo. At the door Archbishop Salviati made an excuse for going away; he had undertaken to seize the Palazzo Pubblico during the tumult. The Cardinal entered the choir and took his place beside the altar. Mass was begun before the conspirators saw that Giuliano de' Medici was not there. Francesco de' Pazzi and Bernardo Bandini, the two who had undertaken his death, slipped away to bring him; and as they walked with him to the church, Francesco de' Pazzi familiarly put his arm round his victim to discover if he wore any armor of defence. Giuliano advanced into the choir; Lorenzo stood outside; and close by each were the appointed assassins. When the priest had taken the communion, a signal was given and Bandini stuck his dagger into the breast of Giuliano, who took a step backwards, tottered and fell; whereon Francesco de' Pazzi rushed upon him and stabbed him again and again with such fury that he wounded himself in the thigh.

The assassins of Lorenzo were not so successful. Maffei aimed at Lorenzo’s throat, but only wounded him slightly in the neck. Lorenzo with instant self-possession pulled off his cloak, wrapped it round his left arm for a shield, and sprang into the choir. Bandini, satisfied with his work on Giuliano, dashed at Lorenzo, who was protected by a friend at the cost of his own life. The delay gave time for others of Lorenzo's friends to gather round him and hurry him away to the sacristy, where the doors were shut and bolted against assailants. All was confusion; but though the partisans of the Pazzi were armed, those of Lorenzo quickly assembled and escorted him safely to his palace. Cardinal Raffaelle was left crouching at the altar, and was with difficulty saved from the mob. So great was his terror, that his face wore an ashen hue to the end of his days.

Archbishop Salviati’s attempt to seize the Palazzo Pubblico failed. His stammering speech aroused the suspicions of the Gonfaloniere, who had risen to greet his eminent visitor. The Archbishop's eye wandered to the door, and the Gonfaloniere, seeing that others were behind, loudly called the guards and made them prisoners. The cries in the street warned him of danger; the gates of the Palazzo were made fast, and the bands of the Pazzi could gain no entrance. The only man amongst the conspirators who showed any decision was the one who had been slowest to join the plot. Jacopo de' Pazzi boldly raised the cry of 'Liberty'; but the people did not rise; showers of stones were hurled at him and his band, and he was driven to his house, where he found his nephew Francesco so severely wounded by his own hand that he could not flee. Francesco was seized by the crowd, dragged to the Palazzo Pubblico, and hanged. When the news of Giuliano’s death reached the magistrates, they hanged out of the palace window Jacopo Bracciolini, son of the famous Poggio, and after him Archbishop Salviati. It is said that Salviati in his death struggle fixed his teeth in a despairing clutch in Jacopo's shoulder. In all the streets the conspirators were cut down by the people, and Florence was filled with slaughter.

Jacopo Pazzi was made prisoner outside Florence and was put to death. The Pazzi family was well-nigh annihilated. Montesecco was imprisoned and closely examined about the Pope’s complicity in the conspiracy: he was afterwards beheaded. All the chief conspirators were put to death. Bandini, who managed to escape to Constantinople, was delivered up by the Sultan Mohammed II. The failure of the plot was a splendid testimony to the devotion of Florence to Lorenzo, and completed its identification with the Medici family. Lorenzo had no need to take any action against his enemies; the spontaneous outburst of popular feeling wrought vengeance for him.

Lorenzo had escaped the danger which threatened him in Florence: but Count Girolamo’s troops were still at Imola. Florence was not prepared for a siege, and no one knew how widely the roots of the conspiracy were spread. Lorenzo was anxious to discover how far the Pope was committed, and hence the careful examination of Montesecco; Sixtus IV, if supported by powerful allies, might plunge Florence into troubles which might shake its allegiance to the Medici. Lorenzo waited eagerly for the first movements of the Pope.

When the news of the failure of his plot reached Rome, Girolamo Riario was beside himself with rage. With three hundred armed men he went to the house of the Florentine ambassador, Donato Acciaiuoli, and in spite of his remonstrances dragged him to the Pope's presence. Sixtus IV disavowed this violence and dismissed him with an assurance of his safety. Acciaiuoli wrote to Florence urging the immediate release of Cardinal Raffaelle; when this was not immediately granted vengeance was taken on the Florentines resident in Rome, and the Bishop of Perugia was sent to bring back the Cardinal. There was some delay, and not till June 12 did the Cardinal begin his journey from Florence.

It would seem that at first Sixtus IV wished to exculpate himself from complicity in the attempt at assassination, and even wrote a letter of condolence to Florence. But the examination of Montesecco, the delay in releasing Cardinal Raffaelle, and the rumors of the menacing attitude of the Florentines, supplied Count Girolamo with means to kindle the Pope's wrath. On June 1, Sixtus IV issued a Bull against Lorenzo de' Medici and his adherents, the magistrates of Florence. He called Lorenzo a son of iniquity and a child of perdition. He declared him and his partisans to be anathematized, incapable thenceforth of holding any office ecclesiastical or civil, or of receiving legacies or performing any legal acts; their goods were to be confiscated, their houses thrown down and reduced to ruins for ever; if they were not condignly punished within a month, Florence was threatened with an interdict and the deprival of her episcopal dignity. The grounds for this severe sentence were set forth at length; they were the hostility of Lorenzo to the Holy See, as shown by his help to Niccolo Vitelli, his unjust dealings with the Archbishop of Pisa, his persistent ingratitude and ill-will towards the Pope, finally the violation of clerical rights by the execution of Archbishop Salviati and the capture of Cardinal Raffaelle. The Pope did not say a word about the murder of Giuliano de' Medici; he merely mentioned scornfully “some civil and private dissensions amongst the citizens”. The Pope’s proceedings were indeed high­handed. He behaved as though the Holy See were so entirely above suspicion that it did not require even a shadow of vindication. His Bull of denunciation was followed by an interdict before the end of the month.

The proceedings of the Florentines are characteristic of the Italian method of dealing with the Papacy. Florence had men who could write as well as the entire papal secretaries, and who had the personal knowledge which enabled them to strike home. Papal thunders could no longer roll on unchecked; the culture of Humanism had provided weapons of sarcasm which were powerful against denunciation. On July 21 the Signoria of Florence sent an answer to the Pope. “You wish us”, it ran, “to cast out of the state Lorenzo de' Medici on two grounds, because he is our tyrant, and because he opposes the welfare of the Christian religion. We do not see that by driving out Lorenzo we should recover our liberty, if we acted at your bidding. To save you trouble, we may say that we have learned how to get rid of tyrants and how to manage our state without the advice of others. Collect yourself, we pray you, Holy Father, and return to those sentiments which become the gravity of the Holy See. You call Lorenzo a tyrant: we, speaking in the name of all our citizens, regard him as the defender of our freedom, and are prepared to risk everything for his safety. Your invectives against him provoke our laughter by the emptiness, not to say malignity, of their invention. If Lorenzo had allowed himself to be slaughtered by your emissaries, if your traitors had succeeded in seizing our Palazzo Pubblico, if we had given ourselves up to you for slaughter, we would have had none of this controversy with you”. The letter defends the Medici family, tells of its good deeds towards Christendom and the Papacy, and ends by saying that Florence identified itself with the Medici, and was ready to fight for its religion and its liberty.

Florentine canonists framed an appeal to a future Council, and decided that the force of the interdict was not so great as to forbid public worship. The priests were ordered by the magistrates to perform the Church services as usual, and even if they felt scruples they judged it wiser to obey. It seems that the Archbishop of Florence held a synod, which gave occasion to the publication of a furious invective against the Pope. We cannot suppose that this document was the production of an ecclesiastical assembly: it bears too strongly the marks of being the work of one man. Probably Gentile, Bishop of Arezzo, a staunch friend of the Medici, used the opportunity to issue as a pamphlet an answer to the papal Bull. It was framed on the models of vituperation which the Humanists had employed in their private squabbles, but which had never yet been turned against a Pope. The relations of Sixtus to the Church were assailed in a series of choice metaphors; and the Pope was styled “minister of adulterers”, “vicar of the devil”, “pilot of the Church’s bark who steered it only to Circe’s island”. The writer of the document was in possession of information supplied by the magistrates, for he quoted the confession of Montesecco and gave an account of the conspiracy. Then he repelled one by one the charges of the Pope’s Bull against Lorenzo; the true cause of the papal interdict was that Florence might be punished for Count Girolamo, the victim for the assassin. “May God preserve you”, it ends, “from false shepherds, who come in sheep’s clothing, but inwardly are ravening wolves”.

Clerical denunciation overshot the mark on one side as much as on the other. The Florentine bishop met the Pope with insolent abuse. More weighty was the Apology for the Florentines from the pen of the Chancellor Bartolommeo Scala, which was addressed to all and several whom it might meet. Scala strikes a note of true statesmanship by saying that he has an unheard-of thing to relate; “while the enemy of our religion hangs over our necks and threatens Rome, Pope Sixtus and his excellent advisers lend themselves to abandoned acts of treachery, plot against the life and liberty of peoples, harass with anathemas all good men, and wage war against Christians”. He gives in full the confession of Montesecco and a temperate statement of the facts of the assassination of Giuliano. Then he proceeds: “What treason has failed to do, ecclesiastical censures backed by arms now attempt. We are defending our liberty, which is dearer to us than life, while the troops of the Pope attack our territory. God, how long wilt Thou endure such iniquity? We turn to you. Emperor Frederick, believing that in us the welfare of Christendom is at stake. We turn to you, Louis of France, to succor the perils of Christendom. Unless Christian princes and peoples help us, we doubt about the commonwealth of Christ. Haste and consult for its welfare”.

Sixtus answered in a tone of lofty indignation which concealed a crafty policy. In a letter addressed to the Duke of Este he besought the Italian powers to join with him in restoring the peace of Italy by crushing the infamous policy of Lorenzo. He had no ill-will against Florence, but Lorenzo had shown himself persistently hostile to all that was right; taking advantage of an ill-judged conspiracy at Florence he had disregarded the holy canons, had put to death an Archbishop, had treated a Cardinal with indignity, and had bespattered with abuse the Holy See. In the interests of order, of Italian unity, of a crusade against the Turk, Florence must be rescued, by the joint endeavor of all Catholic princes, from the yoke of such an impious man.

This letter of Sixtus expressed the political issue which Lorenzo well understood. It was of little moment what literary triumphs each side might win. Sixtus had his troops in the field and was allied with the King of Naples. The time for the blow against Florence had been well chosen, as the northern league was dissolved by the death of the Duke of Milan, The attack of Sixtus was directed, not against Florence but against Lorenzo, and Venice had a good excuse for not interfering in a personal quarrel. Florence was not prepared to meet her enemies in the field, and only received slight help from her allies while the papal forces under Federigo of Urbino advanced along the Chiana valley.

Lorenzo’s greatest hope was in the friendship of Louis XI, who had always been on friendly terms with the Medici, and since his dealings with Pius II had looked with no great favor on the Papacy. Louis XI expressed his sympathy with Lorenzo and sent Philip de Commines as his ambassador to Italy. He had a scheme of reducing Florence to admit the suzerainty of France and then establishing the French power over Northern Italy; with this he combined a renewal of the old anti-papal policy of France. He published an ordinance on August 16, forbidding the execution of papal provisions and the export of money to Rome; he urged on Sixtus IV the summoning of a General Council to be held at Orleans, and sent envoys to the Pope to negotiate for that purpose.

But the papal diplomacy was superior to that of the French king. Sixtus had an answer ready to every proposal made to him, and showed much skill in throwing on the Florentines the blame of refusing to submit to a compromise, though the Emperor and the Kings of Hungary and England united with Louis XI in urging peace upon the Pope. The position of Sixtus was cleverly chosen; he dissociated Lorenzo de' Medici from Florence, and professed his readiness to make peace with the Republic if Lorenzo would give satisfaction for the wrongs which he had done. Lorenzo, on his side, could not humiliate himself before the Pope without sacrificing his position in Florence, where the ill-success of the arms of the Republic caused growing uneasiness. While Lorenzo’s allies threatened the Pope with a Council, the papal and Neapolitan forces ravaged the Florentine territory, and in November, 1479, captured Poggibonsi and Certaldo. A truce was made for the winter; but Lorenzo saw clearly that Florence could not endure much longer, and that peace must be made in some more expeditious way than by the negotiations of Louis XI.

Lorenzo had already considered the difficulties which beset him, and saw that if peace was hopeless from the Pope, it might be obtained from the King of Naples. Though Ferrante was desirous of obtaining hold on Tuscany, he dreaded the schemes of Louis XI, and saw the dangers that impended from a continuance of war in Italy. Lorenzo gradually prepared the way for an understanding with Ferrante. On December 5 he called together the chief citizens of Florence and told them that he was resolved to do what he could to procure peace for the city; the King of Naples professed himself the friend of Florence, though the enemy of the Medici; he would put himself in the King's hands and would himself go to Naples to negotiate. On December 18 Lorenzo landed in Naples, and was honorably received by the King.

It was a bold stroke on Lorenzo’s part, and he had staked all on its success. No doubt he had previously assured himself of Ferrante’s good intentions; but there were many obstacles to be overcome before these intentions could be carried into effect, as it was a serious matter for Ferrante to break from his league with the Pope. Negotiations were slowly carried on while Ferrante waited to see if Lorenzo’s absence from Florence produced any change in the temper of the Florentines. Sixtus IV objected to Ferrante’s intercourse with Lorenzo, and tried by all means to break it off. When he found that terms of peace were being discussed, he insisted that Lorenzo should first go to Rome and make his personal submission. When Lorenzo refused, the Pope asserted that his dignity and honor would not allow him to consent to peace on other terms. He reminded Ferrante that he had spent a fountain of money in the war, and had the victory in his own hands; Lorenzo was in the King’s power and might be compelled to act as he chose. Lorenzo had many anxious moments during his stay at Naples, but he made his way by his personal qualities which commended him to the King and won friends amongst the King’s advisers. He succeeded in establishing a basis of peace, and at the end of February, 1480, left Naples, and was received with joy in Florence. The conditions of peace were published in March, and damped the popular rejoicing; they were hard for Florence, but February were such as the vanquished might expect. The towns taken in the war were to be restored at the King's pleasure, and the Duke of Calabria was to receive a yearly payment as general of the Republic.

Peace was made with Naples, and Sixtus, as the ally of Naples, ratified it; but he was bitterly enraged, and renewed his censures against Florence. Moreover, the alliance with Naples alienated Venice from Florence, and in April Sixtus IV concluded a separate treaty with Venice. Nor could Florence feel confident of the good intentions of Naples. The Duke of Calabria took up his head-quarters at Siena and behaved as its lord; he seemed to be nourishing a design of making himself master of Tuscany.

A sudden shock compelled the Italian powers to lay aside their ambitious schemes and unite for common defence. While they were plotting against one another they were startled by the news that the Crescent was waving on Italian ground. The Turkish fleet which had been repulsed from Rhodes made a dash upon Italy and occupied Otranto on July 28. The inhabitants were massacred, the fortifications were strengthened, and the new settlers supplied themselves with provisions by ravaging the neighboring territory. Such was the mutual suspicion of Italian powers that the Venetians were accused of inviting the Turks as a means of avenging themselves on Ferrante, while Lorenzo was suspected of having had a share in an event which proved advantageous to him in more ways than one.

The news of this Turkish invasion called the Duke of Calabria homewards and ended his intrigues at Siena. It drove the Pope to proclaim a truce throughout Italy, and summon all to take up arms against the Infidel. Florence judged the opportunity favorable for making peace with the Pope, who could not with good grace refuse. Twelve of the chief citizens were sent to Rome, with instructions to preserve the honor of the city, but obtain a reconciliation if possible. On the evening of November 25 they entered Rome, but as they were still under excommunication they did not meet with the reception usually accorded to envoys. On the 27th they were admitted to a private consistory, where the Bishop of Volterra asked pardon for the excesses committed against the Pope and the Church. The Pope dismissed them with a few words, saying that he must consult his Cardinals; meanwhile, let them be of good courage and hope for the Pope's mercy. Conferences were held and terms were arranged. At last, on December 3, the formal reconciliation took place. It was the first Sunday in Advent, when the Pope was wont to be present at service in S. Peter's. The Florentine envoys were admitted to the portico where Sixtus IV, surrounded by his Cardinals, was seated on a purple litter in front of the middle door. The Florentines prostrated themselves, and humbly asked pardon for their offences. Luigi Guicciardini spoke on their behalf; but as he was seventy years old his voice was feeble and he was scarcely heard. The Pope ordered one of his notaries to read the terms of peace offered by the Florentines; they promised to obey the Pope, never to wage war against the Church, nor impose taxes on the clergy. The Pope as a penance for their offences ordered them to provide fifteen galleys against the Turks, and the envoys took oath that they would observe these conditions.

Then Sixtus addressed them: “You have sinned, my sons, grievously; first against our God and Savior by slaying the Archbishop of Pisa and other priests of God, for it is written, Touch not mine anointed”. You have sinned against the Roman pontiff, who holds on earth the place of our Savior Jesus Christ, by defaming him throughout the world. You have sinned against the sacred order of Cardinals by imprisoning a Cardinal legate of the Holy See. You have sinned against the whole clerical order, by exacting tribute from the clergy within your dominions against their will, and by your disobedience to our apostolical admonitions have caused rapine, fire, and slaughter. Would that at first you had come to us, your spiritual father; doubtless then we need not have tried arms to avenge the injuries done to the Church. We certainly have done what we have done against our will, but our apostolic office drove us to act. Now, my sons, when you come to us humbly, we receive you into the bosom of our favor; when you confess your errors and excesses, we forgive you. Sin no further. You have sufficiently experienced the power of the arm of the Church; you have found how hard it is to dash your heads against the shield of God and attempt to break His breastplate”.

Then taking a rod, as is customary in conferring absolution, the Pope struck on the head each of the envoys as he knelt humbly before him, while he and the Cardinals chanted the penitential strains of the Miserere. Again the Florentines kissed his feet and received his benediction. The doors of S. Peter’s were opened and mass was said. After the ceremony the envoys, now free from excommunication, were escorted home with the honors due to their dignity. A few days afterwards they left Rome, somewhat heavy in heart on account of the fifteen galleys, which were a severe tax on the resources of Florence already drained by the war.

Sixtus IV might hide his discomfiture by a ceremonial humiliation of Florence, but the fact remained that his hand had been forced by Lorenzo de' Medici. He had spent large sums of money in a war whose object was to overthrow the power of the Medici, and had not gained his object. He had shown himself a dangerous leader of Italian politics; and the only result of his policy had been a temporary change in the balance of power. Instead of the league of the Pope and Naples against Florence, Milan, and Venice, he had substituted a league of the Pope and Venice against Naples, Milan and Florence. Moreover, a change in the existing relationships of Italy was sure to lead to another war.

CHAPTER IV.

ITALIAN WARS OF SIXTUS IV.

1481—1484.

The peace which at length prevailed in Italy was not due to the pacific intentions of Sixtus IV, but to the terror caused by the Turkish occupation of Otranto. It was obviously a matter of importance to the whole of Italy that these aliens should be driven from the Italian soil. Sixtus proclaimed a crusade throughout Christendom, manned galleys for an expedition against Otranto, and gave them his solemn benediction previous to their departure. But it may be doubted whether the arms of the Pope and of Naples would have prevailed against the Turks, had not the death of the great Sultan Mohammed II released Europe from the dread which his name inspired. His death in May, 1481, was followed by a civil war between his sons Bajazet and Djem. In this confusion of the Turkish Empire the commander of Otranto judged it prudent to retire, and gave up the city in September to the Duke of Calabria, who had besieged it for some months. On this the papal galleys returned home, though the King of Naples wished to use the opportunity for further expeditions against the Turks; but the Pope's fleet had no supplies, and nothing further was done.

In truth the interest of Sixtus was centered solely in Italy, where his great object was to extend the possessions of Count Girolamo, who had not wasted the opportunities afforded by the Florentine war. He attempted to seize Pesaro, and when this failed succeeded in acquiring Forli, where the legitimate line of the Ordelaffi came to an end in 1480. The people of Forli, wearied of the tyranny of the Ordelaffi, put themselves under the protection of the Pope, who sent Girolamo as captain of his forces. Girolamo occupied the castle, seized and put to death an illegitimate son of the late Ordelaffi lord, and added Forli to his dominion of Imola. He looked out for fresh acquisitions, and the new alliance of Sixtus with Venice gave him grounds for hoping that with Venetian help more might be won. In September, 1481, he visited Venice, where he was received with great honors and was admitted into the role of Venetian nobles. The object of his visit was soon apparent; Venice had sundry grievances against Duke Ercole I of Ferrara, and Sixtus was willing to aid her in attacking a powerful vassal of the Church, whose dominions might further enrich the papal nephew.

Pretexts were not wanting for the war which began in May, 1482, and drew all Italy into its vortex. The King of Naples sent troops in defence of his son-in-law Duke Ercole; Florence and Milan joined him in opposing the schemes of the Pope; even Federigo of Urbino exclaimed that it was monstrous that the peace of Italy should be disturbed by the dark designs of a rash young man. He refused to serve Sixtus IV, and Roberto Malatesta of Rimini was made papal general in his stead.

The time which Sixtus had chosen for the declaration of war against Ferrara was not fortunate. Rome was disturbed by a bloody feud which divided it into two opposite factions, whose struggles gave ample opportunity to the Pope's enemies to interfere with effect. The Papacy had pursued a policy so fully in accordance with the traditions of the turbulent Roman barons, that they naturally hastened to follow the example which it set. Paul II, by impartiality in Italian politics, was enabled to govern Rome with justice; the rash designs of Sixtus awakened the elements of civic discord, and revived a barbarous past which had only been thrust for a time into the background. The rise of a blood feud in Rome in the days of Sixtus stands in marked contrast to the culture of the Renaissance, and sounds like an echo from a bygone age.

In the tumultuous plundering of the palace of Sixtus after his election to the papal office, Francesco di Santa Croce was wounded by a member of the Valle family. He waited his time, and cut the tendon of his adversary's heel as he was walking one day in the Campo dei Fiori. The Valle in turn went in disguise to the house of Prospero di Santa Croce, his brother-in-law, where he knew that Francesco was at supper. With a stroke of his sword he cleft the head of the unsuspecting man, whose blood spurted over the table. It was now Prospero’s turn to take vengeance; but the feud was declared and the Valle were cautious. Prospero vainly sought his foe; at length his patience was exhausted, and he found another victim in Francesco’s father-in-law, Piero Margani, an old man of seventy, when he slew standing at his own door. Margani was a wealthy man and an adherent of Count Girolamo. The feud, intensified by this murder, soon spread through the city, as the Valle were supported by the Colonna, the Santa Croce by the Orsini. For a time the fear of the Turks found occupation for these turbulent spirits in the camp of Alfonso before Otranto; but when they returned to Rome the feud again blazed forth, and grew in violence under the influence of Naples. When Sixtus determined on war against Ferrara, he summoned the Roman barons from the camp of Alfonso. The Orsini obeyed the Pope’s summons; the Savelli and Colonna remained; and Alfonso was not sorry to have adherents who might create disturbances in Rome.

Disturbances were not long in arising. On the night of April 3 the Santa Croce, aided by some of the papal guards whom Count Girolamo despatched on this service, attacked the Valle palace and killed in the fray Girolamo Colonna, a natural son of Antonio, prefect of the city. On this Sixtus ordered the house of the Santa Croce to be razed to the ground. This did not much mend matters, as Prospero Colonna, enraged at his brother's death, withdrew from Rome and joined Alfonso, who appeared at the head of his troops and asked leave to pass through the papal dominions on his way to Ferrara. When the Pope refused, Alfonso advanced to the Latin Hills, and the Colonna and Savelli fortified themselves in the strong castle of Marino, whence they ravaged the Campagna and even dashed in a pillaging raid into the city itself. The Neapolitan galleys appeared off Ostia, and Rome was threatened with a siege.

Sixtus retaliated by imprisoning Cardinals Colonna and Savelli on the charge of treasonable correspondence with Naples. The Romans, meanwhile, murmured at the loss of their harvest from the Neapolitan troops, and Sixtus was so alarmed at their discontent that he dared not send his forces against the foe. He was afraid that if he were left unprotected in Rome the city would rise against him, and judged it more prudent to await the arrival of reinforcements from Venice. Meanwhile, the Vatican was guarded like a fortress, and the Pope's chamber was watched by night and day. Rome, which for some months had been turned into a manufactory of arms, now experienced all the forms of military licence. Even the churches were not spared; Count Girolamo took possession of the Lateran and turned the sacristy into a club-room, where he and his friends played cards and draughts upon the reliquaries.

At last, on July 23, Roberto Malatesta arrived before the walls of Rome and was received with the greatest joy by the people as their deliverer. His forces were not numerous at first, and he had to wait for troops which were raised at the cost of Venice. On August 15 a large army was collected and defiled through the Piazza of S. Peter, where the Pope gave them his benediction from a window in the Vatican. On August 18 they marched from the gate of S. Giovanni against the foe, amidst the muttered curses of the Romans, whose vineyards had been destroyed and whose city had been rendered pestilential by the soldiers.

On the approach of the papal forces, which outnumbered his own, the Duke of Calabria withdrew from Cività Lavigna and took up a strong position in the desolate and unhealthy district of woods and marshes which reaches down to the sea. The spot where he entrenched himself bore the ill-omened name of Campo Morto, a little hill accessible only by two entrances from the neighboring marsh. According to the courtesies of Italian warfare Malatesta arranged with Duke Alfonso the day and time of battle, and on August 21 the fight began. After the capitulation of Otranto, Alfonso had taken into his pay some of the janissaries, who now appeared in Italian warfare; their valor and the strength of the position repulsed the first onslaught of the papal infantry; but Malatesta, with desperate bravery, reformed his broken lines and meanwhile a diversion in the rear threw the Neapolitan camp into confusion. A storm of rain damped their powder and prevented them from using their artillery. Alfonso, fearful for his safety, stole away and made to the sea-coast, whence he fled to Terracina; his army was completely routed. The battle was memorable amidst the bloodless contests of Italy; more than 1000 men were slain and many Neapolitans were made prisoners.

The news of this victory awakened the greatest delight in Rome, which was increased by the surrender of Marino and other strong places held in the neighborhood by the Neapolitans. The exertion of the battle amid the marshy ground proved fatal to Roberto Malatesta, who returned to Rome and died on September 10, after receiving supreme unction at the hands of Sixtus. He was honorably buried in S. Peter's, and the city mourned for its deliverer; but the death of Roberto freed the Pope from a friend who might have become too powerful. His wife received on the same day the news of the death of her husband, and of her father Federigo of Urbino, whose long military career was ended by a fever which he caught in the marshes of Ferrara while leading the troops of the league against Venice.

The victory of Campo Morto freed Rome from peril, but did not win anything for the Pope. The Neapolitans still held strong positions in the papal territory; Ferrara was not yet conquered; and Sixtus began to dread the overweening power of Venice. Moreover a still more serious danger invited Sixtus to greater caution in his rash designs. An attempt was made to raise again the cry for a reforming Council; and the attempt was fostered by foes whom the Italian policy of the Pope had embittered against him. That such a danger should terrify the Pope is a sign of the weakness of the new attitude assumed by the Papacy. If the papal position was to be chiefly political, it was but natural that the Pope's political opponents should attack him from the ecclesiastical side, and that the question of reformation should be reserved as a convenient weapon against a Pope who threatened to become too powerful. While the papal forces triumphed at Campo Morto the enemies of Sixtus retaliated by the menace of a renewal of the Council of Basel. The threat was empty and its instrument was insignificant, but it nevertheless fulfilled its purpose.

Andrea Zuccalmaglio, Archbishop of Krain, by birth a Slav, a member of the Dominican Order, was sent to Rome as ambassador by the Emperor Frederick III. He seems to have been a simple-minded man, without much knowledge of the world or much experience of affairs. Not unnaturally he was shocked by much that he saw at Rome and ventured to speak his mind plainly to the Pope. Sixtus IV did not resent his remonstrances, but hinted to the Emperor that he had not chosen a discreet envoy. Frederick III accordingly recalled Andrea, who meanwhile had waxed bolder and had openly denounced the Pope and his relatives. On the withdrawal of the Emperor's commission he was imprisoned in June, 1481, in the Castle of S. Angelo, but was soon released and departed for Germany, smarting under a sense of wrong. He had come to Rome hoping for the Cardinalate, and had received imprisonment as the reward of his apostolic frankness. His vanity was wounded; and on his way homeward he published his wrongs till some wily politicians of Northern Italy confirmed him in the belief that he ought to take steps to redress them.

Accordingly the Archbishop of Krain used his dignity of imperial ambassador as a means of opening a formidable attack upon the Pope. Instead of returning to Vienna, he went to Basel with the intention of reviving the traditions of the last reforming Council. He gave himself the name of Cardinal and papal legate, and was lucky enough to find a clever secretary in Peter Numagen, a notary of Trier. On March 25, 1482, he entered the cathedral during the time of service, denounced Pope Sixtus and solemnly proclaimed a Council. He demanded of the city magistrates a safe-conduct in the Emperor's name, and the burghers of Basel had no objection to anything that was likely to bring strangers to their city.

The news of this strange proceeding awakened much anxiety in Rome : it seemed impossible that the Archbishop of Krain should proceed so far without being sure of powerful support. Sixtus IV suspected that the Emperor was secretly abetting him, and indeed Frederick III, when appealed to by the magistrates of Basel, gave ambiguous answers; he was willing to wait and see if there was anything to be gained from the phantom Council. Everyone laughed at the Archbishop of Krain, whom his own secretary held to be light-headed; but every one enjoyed the Pope’s discomfiture, and no one was quite sure how matters might turn, whether or not the burlesque might become earnest.

Sixtus was alarmed at the attitude of the Archbishop of Krain, and even amidst the pressure of events in Rome, did not neglect any means to get him into his power. Envoy after envoy was sent to the Emperor and to the citizens of Basel : but Frederick III did not absolutely order the men of Basel to take the Archbishop prisoner, and without the Emperor’s orders the magistrates refused to seize him. Meanwhile Archbishop Andrea thundered forth invectives against the Pope, and summoned him to appear before a Council of which he himself was as yet the sole representative. On July 20 he placarded his summons in Basel: “Francesco of Savona, son of the devil, you entered your office not through the door but through the window of simony. You are of your father the devil, and labor to do your father’s will”.

Sixtus excommunicated him, and a Dominican inquisitor in Basel denounced him as a schismatic and heretic. The Archbishop answered by an invective against the Dominicans, though he himself belonged to the Order. It was an unwise step, for it set all the preachers against him: every church rang with their denunciations. The Pope laid Basel under an interdict, but it was not observed. The conciliar principle was not yet dead, and the Curia feared a revival of the Council of Basel. So late as September, an official of the Pope wrote a letter to the Provost of the Church of Basel in which he combated the position that a Council might meet without the Pope’s summons. In so doing he did not venture to impugn the decrees of Constance, but only argued that they had not been carried out and therefore had lapsed by common consent. The Council of Basel had been transferred either to Lausanne or to the Lateran, according as men thought; but in either case it had separated without fixing a place for meeting again, and it was now impossible to revive the Council of Basel without a new summons. The treatise throughout is curious, as showing the dread which the threat of a Council still inspired, and the difficulties of canonists in arguing against it.

Matters were now so far serious that in September Florence and Milan sent envoys to see what was to be made out of this new movement. The Florentine envoy reported to Lorenzo de' Medici that the Archbishop of Krain was a resolute and determined man, well adapted to harass the Pope and Count Girolamo. He promised the men of Basel that the Italian League would help them to reform the Church, and he rejoiced to find the Pope as much hated beyond the Alps as in Florence. But in spite of this intelligence, the Italian powers did not care to commit themselves; and the Emperor at last discovered that he had nothing to gain. On October 20 a letter arrived in Basel, bidding the magistrates imprison the rebellious Archbishop, who was acting contrary to his instructions. After this the papal legate demanded that the Archbishop be given up to him as a prisoner, but the magistrates refused for some time. At last, on December 18, a solemn assembly was held. Andrea protested his obedience to the Emperor and his fidelity to the Church, but asserted that he was justified in his attempt to hold a Council for the reformation of the Church, and declared that he had not calumniated the Pope, as he had said nothing but what was notoriously true. He was put in prison by the magistrates, who refused to give him up to the legate. Their city was laid under the greater excommunication, but they continued steadfast. Andrea remained in prison in Basel, till in November, 1484, he hanged himself in his cell. Then a papal legate was sent to seize his papers and give absolution to the city. The corpse of the unhappy man was thrown into the Rhine.

This attempt at a Council was ludicrous enough, and its significance lies only in its influence on the papal policy. If Sixtus had continued in his war against the Italian League, they might have found means to blow up a flame of opposition in Basel. The position of the Pope as Head of Christendom had sunk to be subsidiary to his position as an Italian prince, and was merely a source of weakness to his political plans. Sixtus IV recognized this fact, and the papal policy underwent a sudden change. The Spanish envoys in Rome negotiated a peace between the Pope and Naples; and on December 11 Sixtus wrote to his ally, the Doge of Venice, bidding him withdraw from the war against Ferrara which was being waged successfully. On December 13 Sixtus celebrated his peace in Rome by a solemn procession to the Church of S. Maria della Virtù, the name of which he changed to S. Maria della Pace, and resolved to rebuild the church in token of his thankfulness. A few days afterwards the Duke of Calabria paid Rome a visit and was welcomed by the Pope in the Vatican. On December 30 he set out to the aid of Ferrara with the Pope’s benediction on his arms. Sixtus suddenly altered his political attitude, but was only waiting to see what new object he might pursue. He had certainly gained nothing by the war in which he had engaged against Ferrara.

Moreover, the Pope’s change of attitude was as complete as it was sudden. Not content with leaving Venice in the lurch, he ordered her to make peace with Ferrara immediately. The Venetian senate answered with some dignity, “You might easily at the beginning have led us to forget our grievances; now, after we have spent more money than Ferrara is worth, and when victory is in our grasp, your exhortation to peace is simply an attempt to wrest from us what we have won, and hold us up to the ridicule of the world. Why do you grudge us our success? We have not summoned a Council, nor promoted a schism”. Venice naturally did not see why her interests should be sacrificed to the Pope's panic. But Sixtus did not do things by halves; he joined the league of Naples, Milan, and Florence against his former ally, and on May 25, 1483, even excommunicated the Venetians for warring against Ferrara, disturbing the peace of Italy, and thereby preventing the pacification of Europe for a crusade against the Turks. The Venetians answered by appealing to a future Council. Sixtus pronounced their appeal to be ipso facto null and void; it could rest only on one of two grounds, either that Christ had not given power on earth to S. Peter and his successors, which was heretical, or that an appeal was possible from Christ's Vicar to Christ Himself, which was contrary to the canons, seeing that the two tribunals were identical. At the same time Sixtus IV was careful to assure himself of the support of Louis XI of France, the only king who was likely to help Venice in the matter of a Council. He sent an envoy to point out the dangers of Venetian aggression. As Louis XI had no friendly feeling towards Venice, he permitted the excommunication to be published in his kingdom.

The real reason of the change of the papal policy was a hope of wresting from Venice the towns of Cervia and Ravenna by means of his new allies. Venice was not successful in the campaign of 1483, and tried to make peace with the Pope. Cardinal Costa undertook the office of mediator, and Venice agreed that the papal flag should wave over the towns which she had captured and that papal governors should be admitted. Sixtus demanded that the Venetian garrisons should also be withdrawn, which was equivalent to claiming for himself the Venetian conquests. Cardinal Costa found that he was mocked in his attempts to negotiate, as Count Girolamo showed him a document signed by the Pope, that peace was not to be made till Venice had been driven from Cervia and Ravenna. No wonder men said that Sixtus preferred war to peace.

Meanwhile, in the city of Rome peace had not put an end to the disorderly spirit which prevailed. On January 22, 1483, died Cardinal Estouteville, at the age of eighty. He had been Cardinal for eight-and-thirty years and his possessions were enormous. His funeral was the occasion of an unseemly quarrel between the Monks of S. Agostino and the Canons of S. Maria Maggiore, who both claimed as their perquisites the rich trappings of the bier. In the tumult that arose the rings were torn off the fingers of the dead prelate, the disputants charged one another with their lighted torches, and swords were drawn by the bystanders. The corpse was only saved from further indignity by being hurried into the sacristy of S. Agostino till the fight was over. In February the Carnival was revived with great splendor after being for seven years in abeyance; but a disturbance arose which drove the magistrates to flee into the Capitol.

If Rome was turbulent, the papal policy did not tend to pacify it. Sixtus seems to have had an ungovernable liking for discord. In the peace which had been made with Naples nothing was said about the Roman allies of King Ferrante; so the Cardinals Colonna and Savelli were still kept in prison, and were not released till November 15. The Colonna grew more and more suspicious of the Pope, since Count Girolamo Riario was avowedly on the side of the Orsini, and on the same day as Cardinal Colonna was freed from prison, Gian Battista Orsini was raised to the Cardinalate. The avowed animosity of these two families kept Rome unquiet, and early in 1484 faction fights again burst out so that the festivities of the Carnival could not be celebrated. On April 28 the head of the Colonna, the protonotary Oddo, returned to Rome, and the Orsini at once took up arms. The magistrates appealed to the Pope to save them from civil war, and Sixtus summoned Oddo to the Vatican. Oddo sent his excuses to the Pope, declaring that he was in arms not against the Church but against his personal foes. Sixtus repeated his summons, and Oddo mounted on horseback to obey; but on the way his friends surrounded him, pointed out the danger which he ran, warned him that he would never return alive, and that if he failed them they were all undone. At last some exclaimed that it were better for them to cut him in pieces than leave him to his enemies; his horse was seized and he was dragged back to his palace. Again the Pope repeated his summons; again Oddo was dragged back by his friends. Then Sixtus declared him to be guilty of treason and sent orders for his capture. The Orsini stormed and sacked the Colonna palace, till Oddo, slightly wounded, surrendered to Virginio Orsini, who carried him to the Pope, but had some difficulty in saving his prisoner from Count Girolamo Riario, who made several attempts to stab him by the way.

Oddo Colonna was examined by the Pope and then imprisoned in the Castle of S. Angelo. Meanwhile the Colonna palaces were being plundered; and though the Cardinals urged that they be spared, the Pope issued an order that they be razed to the ground. Pillage and slaughter raged in the city, and every man avenged his private grievances upon his foes. The papal forces were sent against the castle of Marino where Fabrizio Colonna maintained himself. The city magistrates in vain pleaded with Count Girolamo to make a truce:—he would with difficulty allow them access to the Pope, who answered that he would neither have truce nor peace till he had the lands of the Colonna in his hands. Count Girolamo was implacable, and even attacked Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere in the Pope's presence for having given refuge in his palace to some barons of the Colonna party; Giuliano answered that the violence of the Count was enough to ruin Pope and Cardinals alike. The Colonna offered to give up to the College of Cardinals Marino, Rocca del Papa, and Ardea; but the Pope answered, at Girolamo’s dictation, that he would have their castles by force in their despite. Count Girolamo was master of Rome, and in the Pope's name exacted money from the clergy, even from the papal secretaries, that he might provide artillery for the siege of Marino. On June 23 Sixtus went to inspect the guns before they set out for Marino; raising his eyes to heaven he made the sign of the cross and blessed them, praying that God would endow them with such virtue, that wherever they went they might turn to fight the enemies of the Church. It was a new form of warfare for the Christian faith that Sixtus invented and set forth with all the forms of ecclesiastical ritual.

To save the life of his brother, Fabrizio Colonna surrendered to the Pope, on June 25, Marino and Rocca del Papa; but he trusted to a broken reed if he put any confidence in the Pope’s mercy. Oddo Colonna was subjected to the mockery of a trial and was sentenced to be executed on June 30. When he came to the block his confession was read : he turned to those standing by and protested that he had spoken under cruel tortures what was not true, that he wished to inculpate no man, but was content to die. Then he commended his spirit to God, and his head was severed from his body with the name of Jesus on his lips. His body was placed in a coffin and carried to the Church of S. Maria in Trastevere, thence to SS. Apostoli, where his luckless mother received it weeping. Opening the coffin she gazed on her son's mangled remains, and exclaimed : “See the head of my son and the faith of Pope Sixtus, who promised that if we gave up Marino he would give up my son. He has Marino and I have my son’s corpse; such is his faith”. A week after, the desolate mother died.

Still Sixtus found, as had several of his predecessors, that it was a hard matter to destroy a powerful family like the Colonna. The castle of Cavi held out for three weeks against Count Girolamo and his artillery. The Colonna then retired to Palliano, where they made such desperate resistance, and so harassed the besiegers by constant sallies, that Count Girolamo wrote mournfully to the Pope asking for reinforcements, and owning that he had little hopes of success. Sixtus was greatly depressed at this news: he had hoped for an easy victory over the Colonna, and was not prepared for their desperate resistance. In the middle of June he had been ill of a fever and his health began to give way. When envoys came on August 11 to announce that his allies had made peace with Venice, Sixtus could hardly speak to express his indignation. “You bring a peace”, said the dying man, “full of disgrace and confusion; I can never accept it”. The legates tried to mollify his wrath, and he dismissed them with a motion of his hand that might be taken either as a blessing or as a command to be gone. His attendants tried to console him, but he grew gradually weaker, and died early next morning, August 12.

Sixtus was a man of strongly marked character, who exercised a powerful influence, both on Italy in his own day and on the future of the Papacy. Machiavelli says of him with truth: “he was the first Pope who began to show the extent of the papal power, and how things that before were called errors could be hidden behind the papal authority”. The papal power which Machiavelli had before his eyes was not the moral authority of the Head of Christendom, but the power of an Italian prince who was engaged in consolidating his dominions into an important state.

However much the formation of the Papal States might be a lawful object of papal endeavor there remains the question of its importance. Sixtus pursued it passionately to the exclusion of the other duties of his office. He paid no heed to the pacification of Christendom, and though sometimes the talk of a crusade appears in his letters, it is mere hollow pretence. All thought of the policy of Pius II was entirely abandoned. The affairs of Bohemia and Hungary were left to settle themselves. The sphere of the Pope’s political activity was narrowed to Italy only, and Sixtus inaugurated a period of secularization of the Papacy which continued till the shock of the Reformation startled it again into spiritual activity. Under Sixtus the Papacy became an Italian power, which pursued its own political career with force and dexterity. What Sixtus began Alexander VI continued, and Julius II brought to a successful issue. The Papal States were won, but Italy fell under foreign domination, and the Papacy lost its hold on Northern Europe almost as soon as the work was accomplished.

The object which Sixtus set before himself was not a lofty one, nor fitted to absorb all the papal energies. But when Sixtus adopted it he pursued it with all the force and determination of a powerful and resolute character. His strongly marked personality produced a deep impression on Italy and left abiding traces on the Papacy. The vigorous nature that raised the low-born upstart to the papal throne finds its parallel in the condottieri generals who mounted from the cottage to the dukedom, who ruled with munificence and burned to hand down their glory to future ages. Sixtus had an up­start’s desire to raise his family and spread the glory of his name. Four of his relatives were made Cardinals, and others were enriched at the expense of the Church. Two were wedded to relations of the King of Naples, and were provided for in the Neapolitan domains. Another was married to the daughter of the Duke of Urbino, and his son substituted the name of Rovere for that of Montefeltro in the ducal seat. These all won their way by peaceful means, supported only by the Pope's influence; but Girolamo Riario was reserved to be the instrument of the Pope's policy in winning back and organizing the possessions of the Church. For him the Pope plunged into one war after another and lavished all the resources of his temporal and spiritual authority.

Yet Girolamo Riario had nothing to commend him except his readiness to accept the part which the Pope wished him to play. If Sixtus was resolute and unscrupulous, Girolamo surpassed him in his determination to let nothing slip that might promote his own advancement We have seen how his zeal outsped that of Sixtus in his desire to overthrow Lorenzo de' Medici; and in all other matters he acted with equal disregard to morality. Arrogant, uncultivated, and brutal, he took pleasure in nothing but the chase, which he raised to a magnificence never equaled since the days of the Roman Circus. Under the shadow of the Pope’s protection he carried all before him in Rome, and those who were not prepared to become his creatures were exposed to his vengeance. His violence shocked even his relatives, and Cardinal Giuliano openly reproved him. His cousin, Antonio Basso, on his deathbed denounced the crimes of Count Girolamo, who came to bid him farewell. “Whether his mind was deranged or he wished to ease himself of the venom which had long been retained”, says an eye-witness, “he inveighed vehemently against the Count. He told him of deeds of his that were everywhere condemned, of his character everywhere reprobated. We who stood by the bedside blushed for shame, and some quietly withdrew”. The dying man ventured to speak out the truth to the favorite who enjoyed the entire confidence of the Pope.

Indeed it is impossible not to feel that the low savagery and brutal resoluteness of Count Girolamo were echoes of the natural man of Sixtus which had been in some measure tempered by early training and the habits of self-restraint. The policy of Sixtus is marked by wild energy rather than by any greatness of conception. He set an object definitely before himself, and pursued it by any means that offered. The existing generation of Italian statesmen were polished and prudent diplomatists: they had won their position by fraud or force, but aimed at retaining it by wisdom and caution. Sixtus went back to the traditions of the more barbarous age of condottieri adventurers. Hence he spread dismay amongst the politicians of Italy, because he revived a past which they were striving to forget. The diplomatic webs of Lorenzo de' Medici and Ludovico Sforza were useless to enchain Sixtus, who remained an incalculable element in their schemes. It was through his restless energy, not through his wisdom, that Sixtus IV caused dread. His plans, such as they were, never succeeded; yet none the less he raised the Papacy to the level of a great power. He failed to overthrow Lorenzo de' Medici; he failed to win anything from Ferrara, or from Naples, or from Venice; he failed to overcome the Colonna faction in Rome. Yet all whom he attacked felt that he might have succeeded, and acknowledged the power of their foe.

Great as was the political energy of Sixtus it did not hinder his activity in other directions. He was a mighty organizer and builder, as well as a patron of art and literature. If his policy left an abiding impress on the Papacy, no less did his care leave a permanent mark on the outward aspect of the city of Rome. It is at first sight astonishing to find a violent politician like Sixtus busied with art and architecture; but Italy in that age was full of contradictions, and Sixtus was above all things an Italian. If he borrowed his policy from his neighbors, he borrowed with equal readiness their patronage of art; or rather in both points he developed the exclusively Italian elements which the Papacy, as an Italian power, necessarily contained. Yet here, as well as in politics, we see the traces of overpowering energy rather than of individual feeling or clear conception. Sixtus did not understand the splendid dream of Nicolas V, the conversion of Rome into the literary and artistic capital of Christendom; still less had he the fine taste which made Paul II a passionate amateur, with all an amateur’s exclusiveness and selfish delight in amassing delicate treasures full of fascination to himself.

In spite of its apparent culture the period of the Renaissance was woefully one-sided in its interests and its appreciation. A student of ancient art cared nothing for the works of his own age; few could regard sculpture and painting as sister arts; builders made no scruple in pulling down the precious remains of antiquity to provide materials for their new edifices. Every man was engaged in some one pursuit to the exclusion of all others; and if the men of the Renaissance saved some of the treasures of antiquity with one hand, they destroyed almost as much with the other. Sixtus regarded Paul II's cameos and medals as baubles of little consequence; the larger objects he kept, and with them formed the nucleus of the Capitoline Museum. It is characteristic of Sixtus that he was heedless of things whose size did not fit them for public display.

The same want of appreciation was shown by Sixtus in his treatment of the remains of antiquity. He restored the celebrated equestrian statue of Marcus Aurelius which now stands in front of the Capitol, and he forbade the destruction of ancient monuments; but he empowered his architects to quarry where they pleased to obtain stones for his new works. The Sistine Bridge was built from the blocks of the Coliseum: the temple of Hercules was entirely swept away. In estimating what Sixtus did for the city of Rome we can appraise his achievements, but we can only guess what he destroyed.

Still the practical sense and energy of Sixtus enabled him to work more lasting results than were accomplished by the finer taste of his predecessors. He had no plan of transforming Rome into a magnificent city, but for that very reason he did much towards making it more habitable. Rome in the Middle Ages was far below other Italian cities in the outward accompaniments of civilized life. It was a wild, desolate, uncared-for place. The streets were crooked and narrow, destitute of pavement, and encumbered with porticoes which harbored dirt. Infessura says that Ferrante of Naples on his visit to the Pope in 1475 pointed out the strategical disadvantages of such irregular streets; he told Sixtus that he could never be master of a city where barricades could be so easily constructed, and where a few women from the top of the over­hanging balconies could keep a troop of soldiers at bay. Whether in consequence of this advice or no cannot be said, but Sixtus took in hand the work of rearranging the chief streets of his capital. He straightened their labyrinthine turns, swept away the projecting porches, and paved the streets with tiles. The works were begun in 1480 under the direction of commissioners, and were carried out with promptitude. The Romans at first murmured, but gradually saw the advantages of the Pope's proceedings. Moreover, Sixtus had a summary manner of dealing with objectors. One day, when he went to view the works in progress, he found a burgher who refused to allow the papal workmen to widen the approach to the Bridge of S. Angelo by throwing down the booths which he had built to contain his wares. The Pope ordered the man to prison, and stood by till he saw his house as well as his booths demolished.

By such vigorous measures Sixtus succeeded in working some reforms in the Roman streets. He secured a clear communication between the Vatican and the Bridge of S. Angelo, thence through the Campus Martius to the Capitol. Moreover, in preparation for the Jubilee of 1475, he built the bridge across the Tiber which still bears his name, the Ponte Sisto. He was mindful of the disaster which had occurred in the Jubilee of 1450, through the crowding on the Bridge of S. Angelo, which was the only available means of communication with S. Peter’s. The new bridge was strongly built of blocks of travertine, and its architect aimed at a solid rather than a graceful structure. In another matter Sixtus deserved well of the Romans : he cared for the water supply and brought down the Acqua Vergine from the Quirinal to the Trevi fountain. In everything that could improve and beautify Rome, Sixtus took a keen and active interest. He did much to give the city its modern aspect, and if he had lived long enough he would have transformed it entirely. He did his best to encourage others to follow his example by giving right of ownership to all who built houses in the district of Rome. The Cardinals, especially Estouteville, were incited to build, and many palaces owe their foundation to the energy of the Rovere family and their imitators.

The monumental works of Sixtus have borne the impress of his activity to the present day more distinctly than have the buildings of his predecessors. In the Vatican he erected a block, containing a library on the ground floor, and above it the famous Sistine Chapel which still bears the Pope’s name. The requirements of the Vatican library have long outsped the modest provision made by Sixtus, and this building now serves as offices. The Chapel owes its fame to the mighty pencil of Michael Angelo and not to any architectural merits. It if nothing more than a large room, coldly ornamented with pilasters along the sides, with a flatly vaulted roof. There is nothing in the construction of the Chapel that bespeaks its purposes, yet its very bareness and simplicity seem to have fitted it for papal ceremonies; its structure has remained unchanged, and it has owed its dignity to the master's hand which has made the blank walls vocal with his genius.

So was it with the other buildings of Sixtus. None of them are great architectural creations. Vasari assigns them to the Florentine Baccio Pontelli; but they seem to have been chiefly the work of smaller men, Meo del Caprina, Giacomo di Pietra Santa, and others whose names only survive. Sixtus wanted his work done, and cared more for its rapid execution than for its fine design. Moreover, his age was not distinguished by any great architect. The stars of Brunelleschi and of Leo Battista Alberti had set, and their great conceptions were reproduced by timid copyists. The works of Sixtus are interesting as showing the modest beginnings in Rome of the triumph of the Renaissance, opposed as it was to the sentiment of the city’s past, over the Gothic architecture. In S. Maria della Pace and S. Maria del Popolo we find traces of Gothic influence in the rose windows, the clustered pillars, and the vaulted nave; but the octagonal dome, the simple treatment of the façade, and the pilasters of the portico mark them as works of the Renaissance. Poor as they are in details, they form the link between Brunelleschi and Bramante. The ideas of Brunelleschi are being applied experimentally till the free hand of Bramantean give them full expression.

The Church of S. Maria del Popolo became the favorite Church of the Rovere family, and its monuments make it a museum of Renaissance art. The Church of S. Maria della Pace was not finished by Sixtus, but his successor continued the work. Besides these chief buildings of Sixtus, the Churches of S. Pietro in Vincoli, S. Balbina, SS. Nereo de Achilleo, S. Quirico, S. Susanna and others were restored; and the tribune of SS. Apostoli was rebuilt. Still more characteristic is the building of the great hospital of S. Spirito which Sixtus began immediately on his accession. The octagonal cupola with pointed windows and the tower of the neighboring Church of S. Spirito, are perhaps the happiest remains of the architecture of Sixtus. The restoration of this ruined hospital is a memorial that Sixtus was not so entirely engrossed in worldly schemes as to forget altogether his mission as a Christian priest.

In painting, Sixtus had a larger choice of artists, and summoned to Rome almost all the great masters of his day. The large room of the hospital of S. Spirito was adorned with a series of frescoes, now much ruined, representing the life of the Pope. They set forth the dream of her child's greatness which his mother dreamed; the miracles that accompanied his childhood; the foundation of the hospital; the restoration of the Roman churches; the ceremonial receptions given to sovereigns; the canonization of S. Bonaventura and the like. There is no mention of the wars of Sixtus: the only allusion to martial exploits is the victory of the papal fleet over the Turks. If the history of Sixtus were read by the aid of the record which he himself has left, we should picture a kindly and devout old man entirely devoted to the discharge of his spiritual duties.

For the decoration of his buildings Sixtus summoned to Rome Perugino, Sandro Botticelli, Domenico, Ghirlandaio, Cosimo Roselli, Melozzo da Forli, Filippino Lippi, Luca Signorelli, Piero da Cosimo, Fra Diamante, and others of less note. Even in his dealings with painters we see his practical spirit, for he united them into a confraternity under the patronage of S. Luke; and the confraternity was afterwards raised by Gregory XIII in 1577 to the dignity of a corporate academy for the painters of Rome. Yet though Sixtus protected artists, they had to be careful how they offended him. During the siege of Cavi, a young Roman painted the scene with such exactness that it filled Rome with admiration. The tents and standards of the besiegers, the guns, and the troops engaged in conflict were portrayed with spirit. The Pope sent for the picture and at first was pleased with it; but he grew angry as he saw that it represented the defeat of the soldiers of the Church, and the discovery of an episode which seemed to mock at Count Girolamo filled up the measure of his wrath. He ordered the luckless painter to be imprisoned, to receive ten stripes, and on the next day to be hanged and his house to be pulled down. The Pope’s wrath was only mitigated by the plea that the man was light-headed; his life was spared but he was banished from Rome.

Perhaps the feeling that they served an uncertain master weighed on the spirits of the great painters who paintings came to Rome; perhaps they were fettered by the Pope’s directions; perhaps the atmosphere of the place was still strange to their art, and there was nothing to inspire them. At all events, none of them produced a masterpiece in their decoration of the Sistine Chapel, and few rose to their ordinary level. Yet the conception of the twelve pictures which adorn the side walls is dignified. On one side are six episodes from the life of Moses; on the other side six corresponding events in the life of Jesus, showing His fulfillment of the types set forth by the lawgiver of the Old Dispensation. The art of the painter has been too much bound down by the didactic nature of the task assigned him. Each picture contains several distinct motives; thus Botticelli represents, in one picture, Moses staling the Egyptian, fleeing to Midian, driving away the shepherds from the fountain, watering Zipporah’s sheep, kneeling before the burning bush, and finally returning to Egypt. The eye wanders vainly amid this multitude of details, which are not separated by any formal division; nor is the size of the picture large enough to admit of the treatment of any one of these subjects. Ghirlandaio and Perugino have succeeded best because their chief pictures, the call of S. Andrew and S. Peter, and the delivery of the keys to S. Peter, were naturally of sufficient importance to occupy the entire space. Most probably the great artists of the Sistine Chapel, Perugino, Botticelli, Roselli, Signorelli, and Ghirlandaio, had their subjects assigned by the Pope and were bound to put into their pictures as much as he wanted. We have seen that Sixtus took a quantitative view of artistic excellence, and there are traces of an opinion that the Pope's taste was sadly uncultivated. Vasari tells the story that Sixtus offered a prize to the artist who should acquit himself best. Cosimo Roselli, feeling that he had no chance on other grounds, set himself to captivate the Pope by the brilliancy of his coloring. His rivals laughed at his gaudy colours, his profusion of gold and ultramarine; but Cosimo knew his man and turned the laugh against the scoffers; when Sixtus came to judge he was caught by Cosimo’s trap, and awarded him the prize.

Besides these great painters, Melozzo da Forli enjoyed the patronage of the Pope and his nephews. Much of his work in Rome has been destroyed; but the picture in the Vatican gallery is of great historical interest. Originally it was a fresco which adorned the walls of the library, but it has been transferred to canvas. It represents Sixtus founding the Vatican library. The Pope, with a face characterized by mingled strength and coarseness, his hands grasping the arms of his chair, sits looking at Platina, who kneels before him—a man whose face is that of a scholar, with square jaw, thin lips, finely cut mouth, and keen glancing eye. Cardinal Giuliano stands like an official who is about to give a message to the Pope, by whose side is Piero Riario, with aquiline nose and sensual chin, red-cheeked and supercilious. Behind Platina is Count Girolamo with a shock of black hair falling over large black eyes, his look contemptuous and his mien imperious.

This picture of Melozzo represents Sixtus in his relation to literature, which also he prided himself on patronizing. The cloud which hung over men of letters in the days of Paul II was rolled away and they again basked in the sunshine of Papal patronage. The unlucky Platina was again taken into favor, the lectures of Pomponius Laetus were again thronged with students. The Vatican library, which was committed to Platina’s charge, contained 2500 volumes, of which the greater part were theological works and the remainder Greek and Latin classics. Platina had four assistants, with whose help he began the more important labour of cataloguing the papal archives, and had advanced so far as to fill three large volumes at the time of his death in 1481. Under Sixtus there was no doubt of the triumph of Humanism at the papal court. Greek literature had flourished under the protection of Bessarion; Theodore Gaza and George of Trebizond lived and quarreled in Rome. But these three scholars died soon after the accession of Sixtus, and their place was taken by John Argyropoulos, who counted among his hearers in his lectures on Thucydides the learned German, Johann Reuchlin. Sixtus endeavored to attract to Rome the Florentine, Marsiglio Ficino, but he was too closely bound to the Medici to quit Florence. Failing him, the Pope welcomed the veteran Filelfo, who after venting his spite against Pius II and Paul II for their want of appreciation of his merits, still hankered after the sweets of papal patronage. He came to Rome in 1475, with the promise of an annual salary of 600 florins; and though then seventy-seven years of age, lectured with vigor for four hours a day. Rome pleased him in many ways, especially for “the incredible liberty which there existed”. In this judgment Filelfo’s experience renders him a great authority; probably nowhere could a man who enjoyed the Pope's protection speak or behave more freely than in Rome; if the Pope was tolerant so was everyone else. Filelfo, however, did not stay long in Rome, where his only published work was a translation of a Greek treatise, “About the Priesthood of Christ amongst the Jews”, which showed by quotations from the Greek fathers, that Christ exercised amongst the Jews the office of priest. Even this was a work done many years before and hastily revised as suitable for dedication to the Pope. Filelfo did not stay long at Rome, where his salary was irregularly paid by the papal treasurer. Sixtus IV was better in promises than in the careful administration which is necessary to secure their fulfillment. Filelfo, who was poor, began with supplications and remonstrances, which soon passed into violent abuse. He went to Milan to visit his ailing wife in 1476, and never returned to Rome, but died at Florence in 1481, at the age of eighty-three.

Sixtus himself had been in early days famous as a theologian, and had taken part in the controversies in which the Franciscans were engaged against the Dominicans. Besides his treatise, About the Blood of Christ, he wrote also a work in behalf of the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin, and a logical work, De Futuris Contingentibus. Nor did he, in the midst of his political projects, forget his theological interests. At first sight it would seem that there was as little in common between Pope Sixtus and Fra Francesco di Savona as there was between the magnificent restorer of Rome and the poor friar who, when he came to Rome as Cardinal, had to borrow money to make his dwelling habitable. Yet the pontificate of Sixtus stands in marked contrast to that of his successors through the fact that it left a great impress on the doctrine and organization of the Church. Sixtus did not forget his debt to the Franciscan Order, and showed his wonted energy in repaying it. He confirmed and enlarged the privileges of the Mendicants, and he decisively favored those tenets of the Franciscans which were winning their way in popular theology.

Two Bulls issued in 1474 and 1479 mark the highest advance of the Mendicant Orders, which are termed the two rivers which flow from Paradise, the Seraphim raised on wings of heavenly contemplation above all earthly things. Their exemption from the jurisdiction of ordinaries, the privileges of their churches, their power of hearing confessions and administering the sacraments against the will of parish priests—all that they strove for and claimed was acknowledged in the most ample terms. Moreover, Sixtus strongly adhered to the favorite belief of the Franciscans in the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin, who was to him a special object of veneration. To her were dedicated his two great churches in Rome—S. Maria del Popolo and S. Maria della Pace. He issued in 1477 a special office for the festival of the Conception of the Virgin, and granted indulgences to those who used it. He carefully observed all the festivals of the Virgin, and prayed so fervently before her image that it was observed he never even moved his eyes for the space of an hour. When this avowed partisanship of the Pope gave rise to bitter controversies, he interfered in 1483 by a decree which recognized the belief in the Immaculate Conception as an open question not yet decided by the Apostolic See, and forbade the disputants on either side to accuse their adversaries of heresy.

Moreover, the pontificate of Sixtus was marked by the institution of the tribunal known as the Spanish Inquisition. Since the beginning of the thirteenth century the office of extirpating heresy had been committed to the Dominican Order, and their zeal had been sufficient to protect the purity of the Christian faith. But as the Spanish kingdoms gained in coherence, and could look forward to the day when the Moors would be driven out of the land, the old fervor of the crusading spirit grew strong among the people. There rose a national jealousy against the numerous Jews, some of whom had embraced Christianity, but their prosperity awakened cupidity, and their lives suspicion. To protect the Christian faith and maintain the purity of Spanish blood, Ferdinand and Isabella applied in 1478 for the Pope’s authority to appoint inquisitions for the suppression of heresy throughout their realms. Permission was granted; but the real work of the Spanish Inquisition was not begun till 1483 by Thomas of Torquemada, whom Sixtus empowered to constitute the Holy Office, and Spain unfortunately proved a fruitful soil for its activity. This institution, it is true, did not proceed from Rome, but was of native growth. Still Sixtus apparently lightheartedly and with small sense of responsibility sanctioned in an age of enlightenment the erection of a rigorous system for the repression of opinion. He had no objection to regard the Christian faith as a test of loyalty; and so he made it possible for despotism to use it as a cloak for oppression.

It was not by neglect of his priestly duties, but by his frank acceptance of the world as it was, that Sixtus is to be regarded as the beginner of the secularization of the Papacy. Other Popes had been keen politicians; but none had openly ventured to play the same game as their neighbors and for the same stakes. Sixtus came forward as an Italian prince, who was relieved from ordinary considerations of decency, consistency, or prudence, because his position as Pope saved him from serious disaster. His theology was a survival of his early training; his new interest in politics stood in the foreground and was immediately influential. During his pontificate the Cardinal College was hopelessly debased and the whole course of life in Rome was changed for the worse. The old Cardinals who represented the traditions of Nicolas V and Pius II died out, and were succeeded by others who bore the impress of an age of luxury and intrigue unredeemed by serious effort. Sixtus IV created thirty-five new Cardinals, and at his death there were only five members of the College who did not owe their dignity to his choice. Amongst the creations of Sixtus there were some members of the Franciscan Order who were men of merit; but they were old and soon died. The Cardinals who lived at Rome and were the Pope's companions were either his relatives or men appointed solely on political grounds: Giovanni of Aragon, son of Ferrante of Naples, Ascanio Sforza, Cardinals Colonna, Orsini, Savelli, de' Conti, and the like. Few were chosen for learning or capacity. The papal court became a centre of luxury and magnificence: it represented and reflected the contemporary life of Italy. The older Cardinals looked with dismay on the beginnings of this new system, and strove to avert it. In June, 1473, Cardinal Ammannati wrote to Cardinal Borgia: “In May eight Cardinals were created; in June there would have been as many more had not God's mercy intervened. But the matter is only put off, not abandoned; and others will tell you what sort of men are prepared for our disgrace. Such was the violence of him who has the power, that how we escaped this peril I still wonder. His reputation established for so many years, the entreaties of many Cardinals, my testimony to the facts, had no weight with his impetuous mind”.

Sixtus changed the course of life in Rome because his outspoken recklessness was heedless of decorum. Hitherto the Roman court had worn a semblance of ecclesiastical gravity, which the extravagances of Cardinal Piero Riario overthrew in a moment. Conventional propriety is of slow growth; it is easily destroyed and is restored with difficulty. Perhaps Sixtus IV thought that the papal dignity might be maintained by himself and a few of the older Cardinals, while the young bloods might be of service by making a display in a world which was singularly impressionable. Perhaps he wished to make the papal court a microcosm in which men of all sorts might go their own way. The result was that the worse elements rose to the top, and Rome became more famous for pleasure than for piety. It is true that Paul II had advanced in this direction by encouraging the festivities of the Carnival; but Paul II’s attitude was that of a kindly patron who wished to promote the amusement of his people. The banquets, the hunting parties, the gambling bouts, the nightly revels of Cardinal Riario and Count Girolamo were a new departure in the social traditions of the court. Neither Pius II nor Paul II was overburdened with scruples; but conduct which they would not have tolerated for a moment, became common in the days of Sixtus. It is true that he meant nothing by his tolerance; but the Rovere stock was hard to civilize.

A stern, imperious, passionate, resolute man, Sixtus IV did not inspire much attachment, and we hear of few traits of his personal life. Yet he inspired deep hatred; and Infessura, who was an adherent of the Colonna family and had the spirit of a republican, has blackened his memory with accusations of the foulest crimes. These charges, made by a partisan who writes with undisguised animosity, must be dismissed as unproved. Sixtus impressed his contemporaries as a great and vigorous personality, as a skillful organizer, a munificent patron, and a man of indomitable resolution. On a survey of the results of his doings we must admit that his energy was crude and misdirected; that he was deficient in elevation of mind and largeness of view; that his force too much resembled unreflecting brutality; and that in all his magnificence there is the trace of a vulgar upstart.

The serious charge against Sixtus is that he hopelessly lowered the moral standard of the Papacy. Other Popes had pursued secular ends; had fought for their temporal dominions, and had pursued a purely selfish policy; but while doing so they regarded the dignity of their office, and sought for decent pretexts for their actions. Sixtus had not been Cardinal long enough for the traditions of the Curia to curb the violence of a strong and coarse nature. His nepotism was unblushing, and he did not conceal the fact that he meant to use his nephew as a means of establishing his temporal power while he reserved himself for the functions of ecclesiastical head of Christendom. He allowed himself to become an accomplice in a scheme for assassination which shocked even the blunted conscience of Italy; when it failed he visited with the severest penalties of the Church the irregularities which its victims not unnaturally committed. Hitherto the Papacy had on the whole maintained a moral standard; for some time to come it tended to sink even below the ordinary level. The loss that was thus inflicted upon Europe was incalculable. In an age when faith was weak, when the old ideals had vanished and nothing had taken their place, it was a serious matter that self-seeking, intrigue, and effrontery should be too plainly visible to be overlooked in the acknowledged head of Western Christendom. Under Sixtus IV the Papacy ceased to offer any resistance to the corruption of the age. It was not a strong bulwark before; but at least it upheld the forms of better things. Henceforth, not only do the lowest motives prevail, but they are unblushingly avowed. Sixtus made possible the cynicism of Machiavelli; he debased the moral tone of Europe and prepared the way for still unworthier successors in the chair of S. Peter.

CHAPTER V.

INNOCENT VIII.

1484—1492.

The death of Sixtus IV plunged Rome into confusion. The barons armed themselves; the palace of Count Girolamo was attacked, its garden destroyed, its doors and windows broken; the corn magazines on the Ripa were sacked; the Genoese banks were plundered: everywhere were pillage and disorder. The camp before Palliano was broken up; and the besieged, hearing of the Pope's death, made a sally and seized the artillery which the besiegers were preparing to carry off. On August 14 Count Girolamo came hurriedly with his troops to Rome, where his wife, Caterina, held the Castle of S. Angelo and the Vatican. The Colonna followed Girolamo and took possession of their palace, whereon Girolamo withdrew to Isola. Barricades were erected in the streets, and Rome was turned upside down. The Orsini on Monte Giordano, the Colonna in the palace of SS. Apostoli, stood under arms. The citizens in alarm built up the entrances To the bridges so that horsemen might not pass; and the magistrates besought the Cardinals to hasten the election as the only means of averting civil war. Meanwhile the funeral rites of Sixtus IV were hastily performed. So quickly was the Vatican stripped of its furniture that Burchard could scarcely find the necessary vessels for washing the corpse. At the funeral many of the Cardinals of the Colonna party were not present, on the ground, that they did not think it safe to pass the Castle of S. Angelo.

At length a truce was arranged, and on August 25 the Castle of S. Angelo was surrendered to the Cardinals by Count Girolamo in exchange for 7000 ducats. Thereon the Orsini agreed to withdraw for a month to Viterbo, provided the Colonna also left the city. When this was done the Cardinals, on August 26, entered the Conclave.

During this period many negotiations had passed about the election, which was a very open question. Ferrante of Naples urged the claims of his son Giovanni, but this was too obviously a political Measure; and Cardinals Barbo and Costa were discussed as the two men of highest character amongst the Cardinals. On August 23 Ascanio Sforza entered Rome and laid down a principle which the other Cardinals accepted, that it was necessary to elect a Pope who would not be offensive to the League. When Giovanni of Aragon saw that his chance was thus destroyed, he approached Ascanio, and on the eve of the Conclave they agreed whom they would exclude, but could not determine whom they would elect; Ascanio favored the Novarese Arcimboldo; the Cardinal of Aragon wished for the Neapolitan Caraffa. Meanwhile Cardinal Borgia did his utmost to put himself forward; he offered money, benefices, offices, even his own palace, in return for votes. But corrupt as the Cardinals were, they still retained some prudence, and their fears of the pride and perfidy of Borgia outweighed their cupidity.

The first proceeding of the twenty-five Cardinals in Conclave was to repeat the useless formality of drawing up elaborate regulations to bind the future Pope. Their chief object was to secure the privileges of the Cardinals, but one of the provisions is noticeable as a protest against the nepotism of Sixtus IV; the new Pope was made to promise that he would not confer any important office or administration on any layman whatsoever. In the matter of the election Cardinal Borgia was so confident of his own success that he had his palace barricaded to preserve it against the pillage that was sure to ensue. But the first scrutiny showed Borgia that his party was not so strong as he imagined. The candidate who obtained most votes was the Venetian Cardinal Barbo, for whom ten gave their voices, induced, it would seem, by a desire to return to the decorous days of his uncle Paul II. Cardinal Rovere now took the lead and worked for the election of a Pope under whom he might himself be powerful. The chief supporter of Borgia against Barbo was the Cardinal of Aragon; Rovere offered to negotiate with Barbo the transference of three additional votes to his side if he would give up to the Cardinal of Aragon the Palazzo of S. Marco. Barbo did not fall into the snare, but answered that it would destroy the peace of the city if so strong a fortress were in the hands of Naples. Cardinal Rovere had now set the Cardinal of Aragon against Barbo: he next turned to Borgia and proposed to him that they two should unite their parties against Barbo and so secure a Pope in their common interest; and Borgia consented to sink his own claims in order to prevent Barbo’s election. They agreed on the Genoese Cardinal Cibo; and during the night of August 28, after the Cardinals had retired to rest, Borgia and Rovere visited them privately and secured by promises of papal favours the necessary majority for their new candidate. Legations, rich abbeys, palaces, castles, were promised in Cibo’s behalf, and Cardinal Rovere despoiled, himself of some of his own possessions to win the necessary votes. Before the morning all the Cardinals, except six of the eldest and most respectable, had been won over and nineteen votes were secured. The six who had been deemed incorruptible were awakened.

“Come and let us make a Pope”. 

“Whom?” they asked.

“Cardinal Cibo”. 

“How is that?”, they inquired in amazement. 

“While you slept”, they were told, “we gathered all the votes except those of you drowsy ones”.

They felt that nothing was to be done, and when the scrutiny was held they also gave their votes for Cardinal Cibo, whose unanimous election was announced on August 29.

Giovanni Battista Cibo was born in Genoa in 1432. His father was a statesman who held the office of Viceroy in Naples for René of Anjou, and was made Senator of Rome by Calixtus III in 1453. The son was a favorite of Cardinal Calandrini, who initiated him into the manners of the Curia. He was made Bishop of Savona by Paul II, and was elevated by Sixtus IV to the bishopric of Molfetta, and in 1473 to the Cardinalate. He was not remarkable in any way, save for kindliness and geniality. He had little experience of politics, and was not famous for learning. He was a tall, stalwart man, fifty-two years old, and was chiefly notorious for his open avowal of an illegitimate family. How many sons and daughters he had cannot be said with certainty; but a daughter, Teodorina, was married to a Genoese merchant, Gerardo Usodimare; and a son, Franceschetto Cibo, took his place at the papal court, where he was called the Pope’s nephew.

On September 12, Cardinal Cibo was crowned under the name of Innocent VIII. As he owed his election influence to the influence of Cardinal Rovere he was at first entirely in his hands. Rovere lived in the Vatican, Rovere dictated the Pope's actions, and made him revoke things done without his consent. The Pope’s position was indeed a difficult one. The policy of Sixtus had been so entirely personal that it was impossible to gather together its threads. Cardinal Rovere was in the confidence of Sixtus, but had by no means unreservedly approved of his actions. He was the best man to unravel the tangled skein of confusion.

The power and greed of the Cardinals and the Curia had developed with great rapidity under the rule of Sixtus, and the new Pope was helpless, even if he had wished, to put any barrier to their demands. The city of Rome was the first to suffer. It strove to defend itself by exacting from the Pope a promise that all offices within the city, benefices, abbeys, and the like, should be conferred only on Roman citizens. But this was soon set aside; the Cardinals seized the chief dignities in the city; citizens who had bought posts for life from Sixtus were dismissed without receiving compensation, and Innocent maintained that Cardinals were reckoned amongst the citizens of Rome. He gave an office to his Genoese son-in-law, and when the magistrates objected that he was not a citizen, he ordered his name to be entered on the burgess- roll so as to do away with the technical objection. All expectations of reform from the new Pope were rapidly dashed to the ground. Men said that he would follow in the steps of Sixtus. “He was elected in darkness”, said the Augustinian general, “he lives in darkness, and in darkness he will die”.

The factions of the Roman nobles had been too successfully aroused Under Sixtus IV to sink at once into Roman quietness. In March, 1485, Innocent VIII was seriously ill, and there were rumors of his death. The Orsini attempted to seize the city gates. The Colonna at once took up arms, and there was war in the Campagna. The Colonna recovered the castles of Cività Lavigna, Nemi, Genazzano, and Frascati. At last, in July, the Pope managed to interfere in this contest. He summoned both parties before him, and demanded that their quarrels should be submitted to his decision. The Colonna obeyed and agreed to place in the hands of the Pope the disputed castles: the Orsini refused the Pope's mediation.

But the quarrels of the Roman barons soon widened into a broader issue. Innocent VIII had inherited a dislike to the Aragonese power in Naples, and Cardinal Rovere considered that Sixtus had parted with the rights of the Church in his desire to win Ferrante to his side. The tribute due from the vassal kingdom of Naples had been commuted into the yearly gift of a white palfrey as a recognition of the papal suzerainty. Innocent refused to accept this commutation, and demanded the payment of the former tribute. He counted on the growing discontent of the Neapolitan barons against Ferrante’s strong rule. Ferrante had learned in his early days the dangerous power which the protracted struggle between the houses of Anjou and Aragon had given to the barons of Naples. He steadily pursued a policy of diminishing the baronial privileges; and as the barons became conscious of his meaning they were anxious to rise before it was too late. The changed attitude of the Papacy towards Naples gave them the encouragement which they required.

Ferrante, though a capable ruler, was oppressive in his financial exactions, and was regarded as false and treacherous. But his eldest son, Alfonso, Duke of the Calabria, threw his father’s unpopularity into the shade; violent, cruel and perfidious, he had all the instincts of a despot. He did not conceal his hatred of the barons, and his growing influence over his aged father increased their alarm. In the summer of 1485 a treacherous act of Alfonso fired the smoldering discontent. He managed to inveigle into his hands the Count of Montorio, lord of Aquila, in the Abruzzi, a free city which recognized the supremacy of the Neapolitan crown. The imprisonment of the Count of Montorio and his family was a menace to the Neapolitan barons, and alarmed the Colonna, whose lands adjoined the territory of Aquila. On October 17 the men of Aquila put themselves under the Pope's protection. War was imminent, but neither side was ready. Ferrante strove to gain time and summoned his barons to a parliament, but only three obeyed his summons. He sent his son, the Cardinal of Aragon, to negotiate with the Pope; but on October 16 he died in Rome, immediately after his arrival. The first allies whom Ferrante succeeded in gaining were the Orsini, who ravaged the Campagna and threatened Rome with a famine.

The obvious form for war with Naples to assume was to set up an Angevin claimant to the crown. But the luckless René of Anjou outlived his son Jean, and on his death, in 1481, bequeathed to Louis XI, of France his lands and rights. The only representative of his line was the son of his daughter Yolante, wife of Count Frederick of Baudremont. Innocent offered to invest this son, René II, Duke of Lorraine, with the kingdom of Naples; but Charles VIII of France hesitated to recognize his claims on Naples or give him any support. Still the dread of French interference prompted Florence and Milan to side with Ferrante; while the Pope and the Neapolitan barons appealed for help to Venice. But Venice did not wish to involve itself in war, and did no more than detach for the Pope's service the condottiere general Roberto di Sanseverino, who proceeded leisurely to gather troops. Meanwhile Ferrante enlisted on his side the discontented barons of Rome; and Virginio Orsini was enough to reduce the Pope to great straits. He seized the Porta Nomentana and reduced the city to a state of siege. Innocent was terrified and sat barricaded within the Vatican. In his terror he ordered all malefactors banished for their offences to return to Rome and guard the city; they obeyed his summons, but only added crime and violence to the general confusion. Cardinals Rovere, Savelli, and Colonna took charge of affairs; they visited the walls and set the watch, and inflamed to the utmost the wrath of Virginio by ordering his palace on Monte Giordano to be burned down, Virginio retaliated by scattering in the city documents exhorting the people to rise against the Pope and drive him and his Cardinals from the city; he was no true Pope, for he was not canonically elected; it was unworthy of the Roman people to be ruled by a Genoese skipper; let them make a true Pope and true Cardinals. Especially did his anger blaze against Cardinal Rovere; he exhorted all men to destroy him as a man steeped in unnatural vices; he threatened, if God gave him the victory, to carry his head on a lance through the city. He even sent a message to the Pope that he would throw him into the Tiber. It was long since Rome and the Pope had suffered such indignities, and the arrival of Sanseverino with a force of thirty-three squadrons of horse on Christmas Day was hailed with heartfelt joy by all in Rome.

Sanseverino drove the Orsini from the Ponte Nomentano, but won no decisive victory. His soldiers plundered friend and foe alike, and the imperial ambassadors who wished to come to Rome under his escort were stripped to their shirts by his lawless troops. Rome was not much encouraged by his presence. On January 21, 1486, a rumor of the Pope's death threw the city into a panic. The members of the Curia gathered what they could and prepared to flee; the Cardinals fortified their houses. As regards the war, neither Alfonso of Calabria nor Roberto of Sanseverino showed any military capacity. Innocent VIII began to suspect the good faith of his general, and shrank before the dangers which beset him. In March he sent Cardinal Rovere to Genoa, that he might summon René and negotiate with the French king for help. On his part Ferrante had nothing to gain from the war; he could not restore order within his kingdom till he had peace abroad. Florence and Milan were anxious to stop the Pope's dealings with France, which might bring a dangerous foe into Italy. Thus every one wished for peace, and the Florentines are said to have added to the Pope’s terrors by contriving that letters should be intercepted which spoke of Roberto of Sanseverino as intriguing with his enemies.

Dread of French intervention banded many of the Cardinals together. Ascanio Sforza expressed his opinions strongly against its dangers; and the Spanish party in the Curia, headed by Cardinal Borgia, seconded him. In the beginning of June a majority of the Cardinals besought the Pope to make peace; they offered on Ferrante’s part the payment of the accustomed tribute by Naples and the surrender of Aquila to the Church. The French Cardinal La Balue opposed the peace as dishonorable to the Church, and there was a stormy scene between him and Cardinal Borgia; Borgia called La Balue a drunkard, and La Balue answered with still coarser taunts; they almost came to blows in the Pope’s presence. Innocent, bereft of the counsel of Cardinal Rovere, was helpless. He had no money; he did not trust his general Sanseverino; Rome was in confusion; Cardinals Borgia and Sforza openly negotiated with the Orsini. In June the approach of the Duke of Calabria increased the Pope's alarm, and the pressure of the Cardinals soon prevailed over his feeble will. On August peace was made with Naples through the intervention of the Milanese general Gian Giacopo Trivulzio. Ferrante agreed to pay the tribute of 8000 ducats, to respect the rights of the Church, to leave Aquila at liberty, and pardon his rebellious barons

This peace was dishonourable to the Pope, who abandoned his allies to the mercy of Ferrante, and gained no advantage from the war. Roberto Sanseverino was dismissed, but the Orsini did not lay down their arms and continued their raids against the Colonna. The city of Aquila was occupied by Neapolitan troops and the papal governor was put to death. Roberto di Sanseverino was pursued on his departure from Rome by the Duke of Calabria, and with difficulty managed to escape into the Venetian territory; the Neapolitan barons found themselves left at the mercy of Ferrante. The chief leader of the revolt, the Prince of Salerno, judged it wiser to flee to France than return to Naples; and the event proved that he judged rightly, as the other rebels were seized by Ferrante and thrown into prison, whence they never reappeared. Nor did the Pope gain even the purely ecclesiastical points which his treaty with Ferrante guaranteed. When he sent next year to ask for the promised tribute, Ferrante answered that he had spent so much money for the Church that he could not pay. When the Pope complained that Ferrante wrongfully conferred benefices within his kingdom, he was told that the king knew best who were worthy of office, and that it was enough for the Pope to confirm his nominations. When he complained of the imprisonment of the Neapolitan barons, he was referred to the example of Sixtus IV, who dealt with the Colonna as he thought fit. Having thus answered the Pope’s legate, Ferrante mounted his horse and went out hunting.

The peace with Naples covered Innocent with ridicule as a statesman. Yet it was welcomed gladly by the Roman people, whom the war had reduced to in Rome, misery, while the lawless spirit which it encouraged led to entire anarchy within the city. Innocent issued Bulls against evil-doers; but law was powerless. Women were carried off by night: each morning brought its tale of murders and of riots; the wild justice of armed revenge was the only one which prevailed. Men did not even abstain from sacrilege; a piece of the true Cross, enshrined in silver, was stolen from the sacristy of S. Maria in Trastevere, and the holy relic was found denuded of its setting, thrown away in a vineyard. It was said that the Pope connived at the flight of malefactors who paid him money, and granted pardons for sins before their commission. No public executions testified to the power of the law; sometimes men were found hanged in the morning from the Torre del Nono, but their names and their crimes were unknown. Men imprisoned on the most fearful charges were released on payment. When the Vice-Chancellor Borgia was asked why justice was not done, he answered, “God desires not the death of a sinner, but rather that he should pay and live”.

The Cardinals were the chief abettors of this lawlessness. Their palaces were fortified and strengthened with towers. Their spacious courtyards housed great numbers of retainers, and each household maintained the quarrels of its members or interfered in a body in any passing fray. Such justice as there was powerless against these combinations. Often also these house­holds came into collision. One day the captain of the court of Cardinal Savelli was arresting a debtor near the palace of Cardinal La Balue. There was a tumult, and Cardinal La Balue from a window forbade the arrest of any one within the precincts of his palace. The arrest, however, was made, whereon La Balue ordered his retainers to attack the Savelli, and Cardinals Savelli and Colonna called out their men to retaliate. The Pope summoned them all to the Vatican, where the Cardinals heaped abuse on one another in the Pope's presence, till a sulky reconciliation was brought about. These quarrels of the Cardinals descended amongst the people and were identified with the feuds of the Roman barons. The last days of the Roman Republic were restored, when the city was filled with magnates and their dependents. The example of Popes like Sixtus IV and Innocent VIII was easily followed, and the Cardinals imitated their master in a career of personal aggrandizement and the foundation of a princely family; they had sons or nephews whom they strove to enrich, and each surrounded himself with a court composed of parasites and bravoes.

Politically, Innocent showed all the waywardness of a weak and irresolute man. He had foolishly entered the Neapolitan war at the bidding of Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, who at an early period of his career displayed his willingness to work his own ways by means of foreign help. But when Cardinal Rovere was gone to negotiate with France, Innocent VIII's resolution failed him and he could not await his return. When he came back he found the Pope wincing under his ignominious treatment by Ferrante, and tried to resume his former influence, and induce him to renew the war against Naples. But Innocent was afraid of his former master and wanted to try his own hand in politics. He found employment for Rovere by sending him to besiege Osimo, where a private citizen, Boccalino Gozzone, had made himself master of the city, driven out the papal governor, and when the peace with Naples left him helpless had even made overtures to the Turkish Sultan. In April, 1487, Rovere set out for Osimo; but the Pope mistrusted his zeal and recalled him in June, whereon he returned to Rome in disgrace. Cardinal La Balue succeeded him, and with help from Trivulzio reduced Boccalino to surrender on August 1. Even then the mediation of Lorenzo de' Medici was needed, and Boccalino received 7000 ducats, with which he took refuge in Florence.

Free from Cardinal Rovere, Innocent tried to discover a policy of his own. Venice had shown itself well-disposed towards the Pope in the Neapolitan war, and had a common interest in putting down a free-booter such as Boccalino at Osimo. Innocent accordingly formed a league with Venice, which was published early in 1487; he hoped that his new alliance would keep Ferrante of Naples in check, regardless of the fact that it awakened the distrust of Florence and Milan. When Lorenzo de' Medici heard of it, he poured out his wrath to the Ferrarese ambassador. “I can believe anything bad”, he said, “of this Pope; the States of the Church have always been the ruin of Italy, for their rulers are ignorant of the art of government, and so bring danger on every side”. But Lorenzo set himself to guide the incapable ruler of the Church; he offered his help in the troublesome matter of Osimo, and insinuated that an alliance with Florence was preferable to an alliance with Venice. Lorenzo had personal aims to serve and personal advantages to offer. He felt that the power of his house was declining in Florence, and resolved to secure himself by family connections. He played upon the Pope’s parental feelings by proposing a marriage between his daughter Maddelena and the Pope’s son Franceschetto. The bait was too tempting for the political consistency of Innocent; his alliance with Venice was scarcely concluded before it gave way to an alliance with Florence. No wonder that such feeble self-seeking awakened the scorn of all. The bluff soldier Trivulzio; who went to Rome after the capture of Osimo, bluntly expressed his opinion of Innocent. “The Pope is full of greed, cowardice, and baseness, like a common knave; were there not men about him who inspired him with some spirit he would crawl away like a rabbit, and grovel like any dastard”. Perhaps Italy was not sorry when Innocent fell into the hands of Lorenzo de' Medici.

The alliance of Lorenzo with the Pope gave him the position of mediator between Rome and Naples, and thereby secured for a time the peace of Italy, and averted the danger of foreign intervention. In Rome itself it altered the attitude of the Pope towards the baronial factions. Hitherto, under the influence of Cardinal Rovere, he had favored the Colonna; but the marriage of his Son Franceschetto brought him into alliance with the Orsini; for Maddelena de' Medici’s mother was Clarice, sister of Virginio Orsini. Innocent at once accepted this result of his family arrangements, made peace with Virginio in June, 1487, and admitted him to his favour. This was a blow to Cardinal Rovere, whose brother the Prefect was imprisoned, and the Castellan of S. Angelo was removed as being a staunch adherent of the Rovere. On this the Cardinal withdrew for a while from Rome.

Thus the policy of Sixtus IV was entirely reversed. Lorenzo de' Medici, whom he had labored to overthrow, was installed as the Pope's chief adviser; the persecuted Orsini were recalled to favor; the Rovere family lost its influence, and fortune still further declared against it. On April 14, 1488, Girolamo Riario, for whom Sixtus IV had labored so strenuously, was murdered by three of his bodyguard, who wished to rid the world of a second Nero. They entered the room where Girolamo was sitting after supper, and fell upon him unawares; his naked corpse was thrown out of the palace window, and the people at once rose with the cry of ‘Liberty’, sacked the palace, and took prisoner Girolamo’s wife, Caterina Sforza, who was far advanced in pregnancy. But the castle of Forli still held out and threatened to make a stubborn resistance. Caterina offered to negotiate for its surrender, and went to confer with the governor, leaving her children behind as hostages. When she reached the castle she caused the gates to be shut, and told the rebels that they might kill her children if they would; she had one son safe at Imola and bore another in her womb. Her courage inspired the garrison of the castle to resist. That Innocent VIII was privy to the plot is doubtful; but the rebels looked to him for help and their envoys were graciously received at Rome. Forli was taken under the protection of the Church, and the governor of Cesena went to its aid. But the Duke of Milan sent troops to defend his relative, Caterina; the papal garrison were made prisoners, the assassins were put to death, and Caterina's young son, Ottaviario Riario, was set up as lord of Forli. Caterina, regent, could wreak her vengeance upon the rebellious people, and Innocent did not attempt to interfere further. Men said that he allowed his sheep to be devoured by wolves, and did to Forli as he did to Aquila.

Really Innocent was incapable of any policy, and could not persevere in any intention which disturbed his complacent indolence. He was incompetent, and his incompetence was hereditary. None of his relatives showed any taste for statesmanship, and there was no one at hand to direct the Pope. Early in 1488, Cardinal Rovere returned to Rome and began again to assume his former influence over the yielding Innocent VIII. The only matter that interested the Pope was the marriage of his granddaughter Peretta, daughter of the Genoese merchant Gerardo Usodimare, who had married the Pope's daughter Teodorina. The marriage feast of Peretta and Alfonso del Caretto, Marquis of Finale, was celebrated in the Vatican on November 16. It caused great stir in Rome; for it was contrary to all custom that women should sit at table with the Pope. Most men would at least have respected the traditional decorum of their office; but Innocent VIII aimed at nothing more than the pleasures of a father of a family.

One act of papal authority, however, Innocent was ready to perform: the creation of new Cardinals. Though he had promised at his election not to increase the number of Cardinals beyond twenty-four, he paid no heed to his promise. On March 9, 1489, he created five new Cardinals, and nominated three others secretly, reserving their actual appointment for the present. One of the Cardinals created was Lorenzo Cibo, a son of the Pope’s brother, whose nomination caused some scandal as he was a bastard. One of those created in petto was Giovanni de' Medici, youngest son of Lorenzo, a boy of fourteen. Lorenzo thought it well to use his opportunity as a cautious Florentine merchant, and secure his son’s accession to the Cardinalate while he had the power. But Innocent refused to publish the creation of so young a Cardinal till a period of three years had elapsed; and Lorenzo watched with anxiety the Pope’s uncertain health, which threatened to throw obstacles in the way of his design of establishing the Medici in the Curia.

The remainder of the new Cardinals were insignificant men, save one who earned his creation by a service which marks a disgraceful episode in the history of Europe. This was Pierre d'Aubusson, Grand Master of the Knights of S. John, who had distinguished himself by his brave defence of Rhodes against the Turks in 1480. Mohammed II was preparing to renew the siege when his death, in 1481, was the signal for a civil war between his two sons, Bajazet and Djem. Djem was defeated at Broussa, and hopeless of his cause, sought refuge among the Knights of Rhodes, by whom he was courteously received in July, 1482. He soon found, however, that though he came as a guest he was detained as a prisoner. He was treated as a valuable hostage for the good behavior of Bajazet II, who trembled at the thought of a rival backed by Christian arms. The Sultan made peace with the Knights of S. John and agreed to pay them a yearly tribute of 45,000 ducats, ostensibly for the expenses of his brother’s maintenance. The conduct of the Knights of Rhodes was bad enough, but they were not allowed to enjoy the fruits of their breach of faith. The sum of 45,000 ducats yearly awakened universal cupidity, and the Knights of S. John found it more prudent to remove their lucrative captive to the mainland for safer keeping. He was carried to the Commandery of Bourgneuf in Poitou, where he was under the protection of the King of France. There were many claimants for the honor and profit of entertaining him. The Sultan of Egypt was willing to make war in his behalf; the Spanish sovereigns were engaged in war against the infidel; Mathias of Hungary desired to have Djem’s help to drive the Turks from the Danube valley; Ferrante of Naples pleaded that he was the natural protector of the Mediterranean waters; Innocent claimed as Pope to be the proper head of all crusading movements. The Regent of France, Anne of Bourbon, put Djem up to auction amongst these eager competitors, and delayed any decision that she might reap a richer harvest.

The Pope, however, had means at his command which the others lacked. Djem could not be disposed of without the consent of the Knights of S. John, and Innocent promised their Grand Master a Cardinal’s hat if Djem were handed over to himself. Moreover France had need of the Pope's good offices. The marriage of Anne, heiress of Brittany, was a matter of the greatest moment to the French monarchy. A strong party in Brittany wished to give Anne in marriage to Alain d'Albret of Beam, to whom she had been promised by her father. This marriage, however, required a papal dispensation on the ground of consanguinity, and the price of the Pope's refusal to grant it was the surrender of Djem. Feeble as Innocent might be in other ways, he showed himself clever at striking a bargain, and would not pay till the goods were ready for delivery; D'Aubusson was not made Cardinal till Djem was nearly at the walls of Rome. Nor did this miserable huckstering end here. Others felt that they might follow in the steps of Pope and Kings. Franceschetto Cibo, before Djem’s arrival, tried to curry favour with Venice by promising to deliver over to the Republic the Turkish prince as soon as Innocent was dead. Some of those who stood closest to the Pope went further, and offered Sultan Bajazet to poison Djem if he would pay a sufficient price. No incident displays in a more lurid light the cynical corruption of the time in every nation.

The entry of Djem into Rome, on March 13, was a wondrous sight for the citizens. Djem, accompanied by the Prior of Auvergne, was escorted by Cardinal La Balue and Franceschetto Cibo. The other Cardinals sent their households to greet him, and a white horse, a present from the Pope, was waiting for him at the city gate. Djem showed the unmoved bearing of an Oriental; he wore a turban, and his face was shrouded by a veil. The ambassador of the Sultan of Egypt, who was in Rome at the time, came to meet him at the gate. He dismounted, and with profound reverences threw himself on the ground, kissed the horse's foot, then Djem’s foot and knee, while tears filled his eyes. Djem in a word bade him mount his horse again, and the mingled cavalcade of Moslems and Christians swept onward through the chief streets of Rome to the Vatican. It was a strange spectacle, the coming of one who claimed to be the head of the Mohammedan world to the palace of the chief priest of Christendom.

The significance of such an event did not trouble Innocent. To him Djem was a princely guest, to be received with befitting ceremony. Charles VIII of France was too good a Christian to admit the infidel prince to an interview; but Innocent had no such scruples. Fanaticism had no place in Rome, nor did the papal court trouble itself about trifles. Next day Djem was received by the Pope in a consistory. He was carefully instructed in the proper ceremonial, but entirely declined to follow it. Short, corpulent and broad-chested, with an aquiline nose and blind in one eye, while the other flashed uneasy glances on every side, he strode up to the Pope, with his turban on his head, after making an almost imperceptible inclination of his body. He did not kneel nor kiss the Pope’s foot, but standing upright kissed his shoulder; then by means of an interpreter conveyed his greetings to the Pope. The Pope assured him of his friendliness, and Djem at his departure wished to kiss the Pope on the face; but Innocent drew back his head and offered him his shoulder. He sent Djem many presents, but the haughty Turk did not even honor them with a look. He stayed in his rooms, watched by a few knights of Rhodes, and treated like a prince. His only dread was lest he should be poisoned by some emissaries of his brother. Sometimes he indulged in sport, music, and banquets. He was a cultivated man, fond of literature; but he felt the hopelessness of his fortunes, and most of his time was passed in sleep or in apathetic indolence.

The captivity of Djem in Rome was a means of extending the relations between Christendom and Islam. Bajazet was willing to pay a large sum to have Djem put to death, or to pay a yearly tribute to have him kept safely in prison where he could do no mischief. Rome soon saw the testimony of the Sultan’s wishes in both these ways. In May, 1490, an attempt to poison Djem and the Pope was discovered. A baron of Castel Leone, Cristoforo Castanea, who had been dispossessed of his lands, went to Constantinople and offered himself as an agent to the Sultan. He came to Rome with a poison which he was to put into the well whence the water for the use of the Vatican was ordinarily drawn. When he was taken prisoner he breathed dark hints of a vast number of men engaged in the same design. He was dragged naked through the city and torn with pincers; finally he was killed with a blow from a wooden mallet and was quartered. At the end of November came an embassy from Bajazet bringing the Pope three years’ salary for the maintenance of Djem, and promising peace with Christendom so long as he was kept in security. The ambassador, however, was cautious enough to demand an interview with Djem to assure himself that he was really alive. Djem refused to receive the ambassador otherwise than as a sultan. The approach to the Vatican was hung with splendid tapestry, and Djem surrounded by his attendants and two prelates was seated on a lofty throne. Every precaution against poisoning was taken; before being admitted the ambassador was rubbed down with a towel and was made to kiss it. Thrice he prostrated himself before Djem and presented to him a letter from his brother; he was called upon to lick it all over before it was received. Then an attendant read it, and the ambassador proffered gifts on which Djem did not cast his eyes.

It is no wonder that men were startled at these heathenish doings in the Vatican, that they saw portents in the sky and listened to prophesyings. In 1491 a man of unknown nation, dressed in beggar’s rags, wandered through Rome and preached in the streets: “I tell you Romans, that in this year ye will weep much and suffer many tribulations. Next year the woe will extend through Italy. Florence, Milan, and the other states will be deprived of their liberty and placed under the yoke of another, while Venice will be deprived of her possessions on land. In the third year the clergy will lose their temporal power; there will be an Angelical Shepherd who will care only for the life of souls and spiritual things. I tell you the truth; believe me. The time will come when you will not call me foolish”. Then he passed on, bearing in his hands a wooden cross. We hear in Rome a forecast of the spirit which was growing in the breast of a Dominican friar, Girolamo Savonarola, in Florence. But Rome was hardened and few listened to the preacher’s words; he passed away unnoticed as he came. Yet there was an uneasy feeling of disquiet. Men sought a cause for the decay of faith, and found it in the corruption brought by foreign influences. There was a great influx into Italy of Jews and Moors from Spain who fled before the Inquisition and the conquering arms of Ferdinand and Isabella. They brought the plague, and it was thought that they also brought heresy in their train. An attempt was made to mend matters by an investigation into the orthodoxy of the members of the Curia, amongst whom was found a priest who in the mass service substituted words of derision for the solemn words of consecration. More than 1500 households in Rome were condemned to pay fines for heretical opinions; and we cannot think that Roman inquisitors were likely to err on the side of severity.

Already the heedless secularity of the Papacy was beginning to afford a means of political attack. Innocent had good cause to be dissatisfied with Ferrante of Naples, who refused to pay the promised tribute and set at naught the papal authority. In vain the Pope remonstrated; Ferrante counted on the Pope’s weakness and entered upon the career of cynical indifference to others which precipitated the fall of his kingdom and of the independence of Italy. Innocent made some show of undertaking war against Naples; and in June, 1489, he invested Niccolo Orsini, Count of Pitigliano, as Captain General of the Church, as the negotiations with France about the surrender of Djem gave him hopes of foreign aid. On September, 1489, he declared in a consistory that the kingdom of Naples had lapsed to the Holy See through the non-payment of the tribute. The Neapolitan ambassador appealed to a future Council, and offered to prove that the tribute was not rightfully due. In this critical state of affairs Lorenzo de' Medici interposed to keep the peace. With the genius of a true statesman he pointed out to the Pope that Naples could not be conquered unless Venice and Milan remained neutral and either France or Spain joined in the attack. He went on to consider the chances of effective help from France or Spain, and ended with the warning that whoever became king of Naples would settle his own accounts. Innocent hesitated before the dangers of either French or Spanish intervention, and satisfied himself with complaining of Ferrante’s conduct. Ferrante on his side thought that France was sufficiently occupied at home and paid no heed to the gathering storm. In May, 1490, on the occasion of one of the interminable disputes about precedence amongst ambassadors at the papal court, the Neapolitan envoy prepared to force his way by violence into the papal chapel; and to prevent a scandal the other envoys were requested to absent themselves till the matter was settled. Soon afterwards the Pope was disturbed by hearing that Ferrante had written Maximilian, King of the Romans, telling him of the life and morals of the Pope and Cardinals, their sons and daughters, their simony, luxury and avarice, beseeching him to provide according to God's precept for the tottering Church. Italy was beginning to use the scandal of the papal court as a political engine of attack, and cried to Germany to undertake the task of reform which was beyond her own moral capacity.

The instability of the papal rule was soon exhibited with startling clearness. In September, 1490, Innocent was ill, and on the 27th there was a rumor that he was dead. Immediately the shops were shut and men armed themselves in expectation of a tumult. Franceschetto Cibo left his father's deathbed to make a swoop on the papal treasury. When he was frustrated in his attempt, he tried to get hold of Djem as an opening for financial speculations. Next day the Cardinals thought it well to secure the Pope's treasure against Franceschetto’s designs; they went in a body to the Vatican and proceeded to make an inventory, after which they left Cardinal Savelli in charge. Though it was suspected that much of the Pope’s treasure was already deposited in Florence, yet the Cardinals found in one chest 800,000 ducats, and in another 300,000. When Innocent recovered, he was very angry at this investigation into his possessions; he said that he hoped to outlive all the Cardinals, though they plotted against his life.

While Innocent sat inactively on the papal throne, engaged only in feeble bickerings with the King of Naples, events of momentous importance were occurring in Europe. The consolidation of the French kingdom, which had been skillfully pursued by Louis XI, became an accomplished fact; and the marriage of Charles VIII with Anne of Brittany was the last step in the incorporation of the provinces under the crown of France. This marriage, however, was brought about in a way dishonorable to all concerned. Innocent VIII had been willing to prevent the marriage of Anne to Alain d'Albret; but another suitor came forward in the person of Maximilian. With the utmost secrecy Anne, a girl of thirteen, was affianced to the future emperor, who, however, took no steps to succor his bride against the arms of France. At last it seemed the shortest way to annex Brittany to the French crown by marrying Anne to Charles VIII, though she was betrothed to Maximilian and Charles VIII was betrothed to Margaret, Maximilian’s daughter, a child of ten years old already at the French court. The papal dispensation was required both on the ground of previous contracts and because Anne stood within the prohibited degrees to Charles. Anne’s consent was wrung from her by the dread of the French arms, and Charles VIII so far presumed on the Pope’s complaisance that he did not await his formal dispensation for an act which shocked even the low sense of decorum of the day. The marriage was celebrated on December 6, and the French ambassadors demanding the Bulls only entered Rome on December 5; the Bulls themselves were issued ten days after the marriage had taken place.

There could be no doubt of the political importance of this event. It warned Ferrante of Naples that France was likely to seek occupation for her energies abroad. The desire for a good understanding with the French king was the cause of the Pope's complaisance, and the effect of the good understanding was soon obvious on Neapolitan diplomacy. Ferrante listened more heedfully to the advice of Lorenzo de' Medici; he agreed to pay the tribute for Naples which the Pope demanded, and in the middle of February, 1492, peace was made between Ferrante and Innocent VIII.

A second great event occurred about the same time. On January 2, 1492, Grenada, the last stronghold of capture of the Moors in Spain, surrendered to King Ferdinand the Catholic. The union of the crowns of Aragon and Castile, by the marriage of Ferdinand and Isabella, had led to a vigorous crusade which ended in the expulsion of the Moors from the peninsula. The effect of a great enterprise, founded on an appeal to Christian sentiment, was to weaken provincial jealousies and combine the Spanish peoples into a nation. The crusading spirit, which could not be kindled in Eastern Europe, was strong in the West, and Spain rose at once to be a great power in Europe. But Italy did not understand the mighty change that was being wrought by the creation of powerful kingdoms, and there was no statesman in the Roman court who could perceive the signs of the times. Rome, celebrated the triumph of Christian arms after her wonted fashion. There were processions and bonfires, races of men and boys and buffaloes. Bread and wine were distributed to the populace. The Spanish ambassadors gave a representation of the capture of Grenada by erecting a wooden tower in the Piazza Navona and offering prizes to those who could first climb up its walls. Cardinal Borgia entertained the people by a bull-fight in which five bulls were killed.

Rome was a city of festivals, and was enlivened on November 22 by the magnificent entry of the young Florentine Cardinal, Giovanni de' Medici. The three years' term which Innocent had imposed when first he secretly created Giovanni Cardinal was at an end, and Lorenzo at last enjoyed the realization of his most cherished scheme. Lorenzo had carefully prepared Giovanni to be an ecclesiastical personage. He used his influence with Louis XI of France to obtain for him in his childhood an abbey in France: the Pope declared him capable of holding benefices, and conferred on him the dignity of a protonotary. Shortly afterwards Louis XI made him Archbishop of Aix; but the Pope refused his confirmation to this monstrous nomination. Still, at the age of fourteen Giovanni was promised the Cardinalate, and at the age of seventeen was thought of mature years to take his place amongst the Pope’s counselors. He was invested with the insignia of his dignity at Fiesole, and Florence celebrated with unwonted rejoicings the honor conferred upon her chief family. When the young Cardinal set out for Rome, he was escorted two miles out of Florence by the chief citizens. At Siena he was received with as much honor as if he had been the Pope himself. At Viterbo he was met by Franceschetto Cibo, who escorted him to Rome, where the whole city came out to meet him in spite of torrents of rain. He went through the ceremonial of presentation to the Pope with dignity and with address, and paid the accustomed visits to his brother Cardinals. Amongst them was Raffaelle Riario, who had played such a suspicious part in the conspiracy of the Pazzi. He felt visit by the presence of Cardinal Orsini. It is said that he and Giovanni de' Medici turned deadly pale at their meeting, and could scarcely stammer out a few formal sentences.

Soon after his arrival in Rome the young Cardinal received from his father a letter of advice. The letter is honorable to Lorenzo, and shows that he was by letter of no means destitute of principle. He urges upon Giovanni gratitude to God for His mercies—gratitude to be shown by a holy, exemplary, and upright life. He beseeches him not to forget the lessons of his early training, not to neglect the means of grace afforded by Confession and Communion. “I know that by going to Rome, which is a sink of all iniquities, you encounter greater difficulties than hitherto. Not only is there the danger of bad example, but many will endeavor to allure and corrupt you. Your elevation at your age to the Cardinalate caused much envy, and many who could not prevent your dignity will endeavor to diminish it by blackening your life and casting you into the ditch where they have fallen themselves. Your youth will encourage them to hope for an easy, success. You must withstand these dangers with greater firmness, as there is at present less virtue in the College of Cardinals. Yet there are some men in the College learned and good and of holy life. Follow their example, and you will be the more esteemed as you are the moredistinguished from the rest”.

So far Lorenzo had spoken as a moralist; his concluding remarks are those of a statesman and observer of life. He warns his son to avoid hypocrisy, to observe a mean in all things, to shun austerity and severity, to give no offence. He dwells on the difficulty of life amid men of different characters, and urges geniality, reasonableness, and care not to make enemies. On this first visit to Rome it were better to use his ears than his tongue. “You are devoted to God and the Church; yet you will find many ways to help your city and your house. You are the chain that binds this city with the Church, and your house goes with the city. You are the youngest Cardinal; be the most zealous and the most humble. Let no one have to wait for you. Encourage as little intimacy as may be with the less reputable of your brethren, but in public converse with all. In all matters of display, be under rather than over the mean. Let your establishment be refined and well ordered rather than rich and splendid. Silks and jewels are not becoming; collect rather a few elegant antiques and rare books. Let your attendants be well conducted and learned, rather than numerous. In entertainments, do nothing superfluous, but invite more often than you are invited. Let your food be plain and take plenty of exercise; for men of your cloth easily contract infirmities if they are not careful. The dignity of Cardinal is as secure as it is great; let not this security beguile you into negligence, as it has done many. Rise in good time in the morning; this habit is not only good for your health but gives you time to arrange what you have to do in the day. Every evening think over the morrow’s business, that you be not taken unawares. In consistory, submit your opinion to that of the Pope on the ground of your youth. Beware of carrying petitions to the Pope or of troubling him, for his character is to give most to those who ask him least”. Surely it was from Italy that Polonius learned his saws.

This letter of Lorenzo’s was his last testament to his son. He died at the age of forty-four, and Italy lost its one great statesman. Lorenzo had striven to identify the Medici family with Florence, and had been himself the representative and expression of the desires and aspirations of Florentine life and culture. He had also learned that the existence of Italy depended upon the maintenance of internal peace, and his efforts for that end had for the last ten years of his life been unceasing. His early experience had taught him how difficult was the position which he had to maintain, that of the chief citizen of a free city, whose fortunes and whose very existence depended on exercising absolute power without seeming to do so. It is easy to accuse him of insidiously destroying Florentine liberty; but the policy of Sixtus IV left him no choice between such a course and retirement from Florence, and he may be pardoned if he doubted whether his abdication would conduce to the welfare of the city. He has been accused of abetting the moral enervation and corruption of his people; but the causes of this corruption are to be found in the general character of Italian life, and Lorenzo did no more than follow the prevailing fashion in lending his refinement to give expression to the popular taste. Lorenzo did what all Italian statesmen were doing; he identified his city for good and ill with his own house. He worked craftily and insidiously, not by open violence, and in the midst of his self-seeking he retained the large views of a statesman and embodied the, culture of his age.

Florence was the most eminently Italian of all Italian cities, and had long shown herself to be the brain of Italy. It was there that the culture of the Renaissance found its highest and most serious expression, and there the first attempt was made to bring the ideas of the new learning into relation with the old system of thought on which the life of Christendom was founded. The Aristotelian logic had furnished the phraseology and the method of the teaching of the Schoolmen; the scholars of the Renaissance sought in Plato a larger expression of their widening views. At Florence this was done deliberately by the patronage of Cosimo de' Medici, who founded a Platonic Academy and chose as its first head the son of his physician Marsilio Ficino, who was carefully educated in the Greek language. Marsilio was a scholar of fine mind and keen susceptibilities, who entered with fervor upon the study of Plato, and established a religious cult of his great master. A shrine was built to Plato, and a lamp burned before it his bust was crowned with laurels, and his birthday was celebrated with a high festival. The Florentine Academy met and discussed the writings of Plato, and Marsilio spent his life in their translation and exposition. Though a philosopher, Marsilio was also a sincere Christian. At the age of forty he took orders after serious deliberation, but he did not seek high office or large revenues from the Church. He lived and died a poor man, and his works were published at the expense of Lorenzo de' Medici and other wealthy Florentines.

Ficino’s knowledge of Plato was neither accurate nor profound. He lacked the critical faculty which was necessary to understand the Platonic system. He did not distinguish between the writings of Plato and those of the Alexandrian mystics of later times; to him Plotinus was a true interpreter of his master. Ficino seized on the mystical side of Plato, and found in it a means of reconciling Christianity with the new philosophy. He saw in Plato an Attic-speaking Moses; he compared the life of Socrates with that of Jesus; he discovered in the doctrines of Plato a forecast of Christian dogma. He did this with all sincerity and earnestness. It was the first attempt to unify the intellectual world, to weave into a system the old and new beliefs.

This intellectual movement, which Ficino expressed, was carried further by his scholar, Giovanni Pico della Mirandola. Son of the Count of Mirandola, he early devoted himself to study and at the age of twenty came to Florence, where he showed himself a zealous disciple of Ficino. He went to Paris in quest of more learning, and set himself to supplement Ficino’s system by researches into Jewish tradition. The teaching of the Alexandrian school had largely affected the Jews, and a body of tradition, called the Cabbalah, had gradually grown up which expanded the teaching of Moses into a theosophy. From the Cabbalah, from astrology, from magic, Pico obtained proofs of the truth of Christian doctrine, and carried into the more obscure regions of mediaeval knowledge the unifying process which Ficino had begun. In i486 Pico visited Rome, and in a fit of youthful self-sufficiency promulgated nine hundred theses which he was ready to maintain in public disputation. His theses dealt with theology, philosophy, in fact all human knowledge down to magic and the Cabbalah. This audacity awakened enemies who were not slow in pointing out heresies which lay lurking in some of Pico’s propositions. Innocent VIII issued a brief against the more dangerous theses, and Pico, foreseeing a storm, left Rome, published an apology protesting his orthodoxy, and took refuge in France. Pico dreaded a citation to Rome and possible imprisonment; and the influence of Lorenzo de' Medici was needed to induce the Pope to suspend proceedings. Pico returned to Florence after a while, but only Lorenzo’s exertions prevailed on the Pope to stay his hand.

The Florentine Neo-Platonism was an attempt to bring the new learning into connection with Christian doctrine. It aspired to a restoration of the unity of human thought, and was aimed against the prevalent materialism and indifference to religion. It was a protest against the ignorance of the clergy, who were rapidly being left stranded by the advance of men's interest and the development of an intelligent and critical curiosity about all speculative matters. According to Ficino, the priest and the philosopher were identical; religion was to be rescued from ignorance and philosophy from godlessness. The soul came from God, and yearned after the consciousness of its union with Him. All religions were the expression of this desire; the Christian religion alone was true, and showed its truth by the completeness of the union between God and man which it revealed. Ficino and Pico alike aimed at a complete identification of wisdom and piety, as only being different aspects of the same quality. Hence they took up an attitude of large intellectual tolerance. The truth to them was one and indivisible; all that was good and noble was but a reflection of the complete truth which was fully revealed in Christ. Ficino and Pico were men of undoubted piety, but their teaching did not produce any deep impression. On the one side it did not prove an effective barrier against the growing materialism of the Aristotelian school; on the other side it easily passed into a vague philosophic theism which attracted a character like that of Lorenzo de' Medici. In no way was it fitted to impress the mass of mankind and turn them back to piety.

Lorenzo was the centre of a literary circle which sometimes listened to the Platonic philosophy of Ficino and Pico, sometimes to the moral disputations of Cristoforo Landino, and sometimes to the burlesques of Luigi Pulci. The first force of the classical revival was spent, and men brought back the knowledge they had gained from the study of style to deck their native literature. Pulci’s Morgante Maggiore was the beginning of a revived romanticism. The legends of chivalry were again told in the vulgar tongue, with no serious purpose and with a strong infusion of popular buffoonery. Pulci refined the literature of the market-place, and introduced it into cultivated society. His poem contains a strange mixture of piety and mocking skepticism. He jests with Scripture, with miracles, with sacred words, without any sense of incongruity. He is under the humor of the moment; his seriousness and his laughter are alike transient; his piety and his profanity rest equally on no basis of firm conviction.

The greatest man in this Florentine circle was Angelo Poliziano, so called from his birth-place of Monte Poliziano. He was the foremost scholar in Italy, and his lectures were thronged by an eager audience. He was so far master of Latin that he wrote Latin poems with an ease of style and mastery of expression which entitled him to rank as an original Latin poet. He stands, moreover, first among the poets of the revived Italian tongue. The passion, the fire of true poetry rings through his songs; but his greatest poems are only graceful trifles, and he wasted his powers on such themes as a tournament at which Giuliano de' Medici bore away the prize. There were mastery of language and gifts of genius, but there was no depth of feeling, no grasp of reality. Italy was enjoying a dream of beauty and lived only for the day.

Amongst these literary men Lorenzo moved, not merely as a patron, but as one who himself had won a foremost place. His Italian poems are careful and pleasing, though they lack the spontaneity of Poliziano. Florence was proud of its literary chief and Lorenzo gratified every taste; he wrote sonnets for the cultivated, a coarse satire on drunkenness for the rude, and a collection of sacred lauds for the pious. Moreover he turned his artistic gifts to the organization of the festivals which the Florentines loved so well. At Carnival time the young men used to ramble through the city in masques, singing and dancing. Lorenzo aimed at giving greater variety to these songs and dances. He wrote Canzoni a ballo, and had them set to music. He arranged costumes for the masqueraders, and designed for them chariots filled with mythological figures which they drew through the streets. They sallied forth after dinner, sometimes to the number of three hundred, and traversed the city with their songs and dance still the stars began to fade.

These Carnival songs give us a surprising insight into Lorenzo's mind and the tone of thought in his days. They openly incite to breaches of the moral law; they clothe profligacy with the veil of gallantry; they take the ordinary occupations of life and turn them into elaborate innuendoes of obscenity. The ruler of Florence himself devised and encouraged this means of corrupting what remained of moral sentiment among the Florentine youth. Lorenzo's example might not be edifying, his tone of thought might not be noble, but these only directly affected those who were in his immediate circle. By his Carnival songs, he carried to all ranks and classes the incitement to abandon self-restraint and adopt as a rule of life the pursuit of self-indulgence. He gave them as their motto:—

Quant' è bella giovinezza,

Che si fugge tuttavia!

Chi vuol esser lieto, sia;

Di doman non c' è certezza.

Even Poliziano was amazed at Lorenzo’s versatility, at the ease with which he changed his tone from his songs for the masquerades to his lauds for the pious penitents.

Amongst the memorials of the Medici in Florence, few are more interesting than the Convent of S. Marco, which Cosimo rebuilt with splendid magnificence. Michelozzo Michelozzi labored for six years to make a worthy monument of Cosimo’s liberality; and in it Cosimo established a branch of the Dominicans of Lombardy, to whose care he committed the first public library of Italy, of which the collection of Niccolò Niccoli formed the nucleus. Everything favored Cosimo’s desire to make the Convent of S. Marco a monumental building. Fra Angelico came from Fiesole and adorned its walls with fresco; the holy Archbishop of Florence, S. Antonino, shed round it the memories of his sanctity.

To this Convent of S. Marco, thus richly endowed by the patronage of the Medici, came in 1482 a young brother, Girolamo Savonarola. He was a native of Ferrara, born in 1452; his father wished to educate him as a classical scholar, but Girolamo showed a decided preference for the works of S. Thomas Aquinas. A disappointment in love is said to have done much to wean his mind from the world, but his own reading and reflection did more. At the age of twenty-two he left his parents and found a refuge for his weary soul amongst the Dominicans of Bologna. On his departure from home he left behind him, to console his father, a short treatise On Contempt of the World, which shows how deeply he felt the wickedness around him. “Everything is full of impiety, of usury and robbery, foul and wicked blasphemies, fornication, adultery, sodomy, and all uncleanness, murder and envy, ambition and pride, hypocrisy and falseness, crime and iniquity. Virtues are turned into vices and vices into virtues. There is none that doeth good, no not one. Men are summoned to penitence by disasters, earthquakes, hail­stones, and storms of wind; but they do not hearken. They are summoned by floods, diseases, famines; but they do not hearken. They are summoned by the impious deeds of the overweening Turks; but they do not hearken. They are summoned by the affectionate voice of preachers and servants of God; but they do not hearken. All, in fine, are summoned by the natural pricks of conscience; but they do not hearken”.

With these feelings in his heart Savonarola quietly performed his noviciate at Bologna, whence in 1842 he was sent by order of his superiors to preach at Ferrara. He found that he had no honor in his own country; but the outbreak of the war into which Sixtus IV plunged Ferrara soon drove him to seek another refuge, and he entered the Convent of S. Marco at Florence. In 1483 he began to preach and testify against the prevalent corruptions. He was not, however, successful; his rugged oratory, his passionate appeals, did not attract the cultivated Florentines, who looked upon sermons as rhetorical exercises. Savonarola was left to preach to empty benches in S. Lorenzo while everybody flocked to S. Spirito to hear the favorite preacher of Lorenzo de' Medici, Mariano de Genazzano. They admired his voice, his management of his breath, his graceful action. Their critical sense was satisfied by his periods, his dexterous transitions, his pathos, his command of his main argument while seemingly wandering at his pleasure. They were delighted at his artificial simplicity, entirely destitute of dignity. They applauded the orator all the more because he had not the bad taste to aim at convincing their minds or carrying truth to their hearts.

Savonarola grieved over his own want of success, but it only convinced him of the hardness of men’s hearts. He read with greater fervor the writings of the Hebrew prophets, till their spirit took possession of his soul. He felt that to him too had come a mission from on high, a mission to announce God’s coming judgment to an unrepentant world; and his fiery zeal made him realize the imminence of the impending doom. In his Lenten sermons, preached at S. Gemignano in 1484 and 1485, he foretold that the scourge of God’s wrath would rapidly fall upon the Church, which should be purified and revived by punishment. These sermons were eagerly listened to, and Savonarola acquired confidence by seeing that his ideas could awaken the sympathy of others. He returned to Florence, strengthened in his own beliefs and with growing faith in his own mission. In 1486 he was ordered to preach at Brescia. There he expounded the Apocalypse with terrible vividness, so that his fame as a preacher of righteousness was spread abroad in Northern Italy, where he continued to preach till 1490, when he was ordered by his superiors to return to Florence.

In Florence he undertook the work of teaching the novices in S. Marco; but many people sought him out and besought him to give expository lectures on the Apocalypse. At first he spoke in the cloister, but his audience increased so rapidly that he had to transfer himself to the church. There he produced a marked impression on his hearers and became a ruling power in Florence. In the Lent of 1491 he preached to a crowded congregation in the cathedral, and his triumph as a preacher was assured.

The object of Savonarola’s teaching was to awaken men to a sense of righteousness, temperance, and judgment to come. He called them back from the study of Plato and Plotinus to the study of the Scriptures. He bade them renounce their life of pleasure for a life of communion with God. He besought them to turn their eyes from the newly discovered glories of this world to the eternal splendor of the world to come. In this he did not differ from the earnest spiritual teachers of all times. But he did not appeal to men only as a teacher; he warned them as a prophet. The prevailing corruption was so vividly present to his mind that he saw with equal vividness and certainty the scourge of God's vengeance. He called upon his hearers not merely to flee from God's wrath hereafter, but to prepare for a speedy manifestation of His judgment upon earth. The deep sense of universal wickedness was combined in his mind with an ideal of a pure and holy Church. He saw God's hand already stretched out to work through suffering and woe a mighty process of purification, and he expressed the results of his insight with the imperiousness and certainty of the Hebrew prophets. He found the pleadings of reason, the arguments of experience, cold and inconclusive; overmastered by his sense of prophetic insight, he was driven to rest his admonitions on the certainty of immediate punishment. His preaching rested upon prophecy; and an age whose enlightenment had not advanced beyond the realm of unfettered imagination needed a prophet. Men who with all their culture believed in astrology and magic were riveted by the fire of Savonarola's denunciations, though they would have paid little heed to his reasonings.

Between the spiritual movement set on foot by Savonarola and the ideas of Lorenzo de' Medici there could be little sympathy. Savonarola justly regarded Lorenzo's government as one great source of Florentine corruption; he held aloof from the Medicean circle, and assumed an independent attitude. Five of the chief citizens went to him and advised him to be more moderate in his language, “I see that you are sent to me by Lorenzo”, said Savonarola. “Tell him to repent of his sins, for the Lord spares no one and fears not the princes of the earth”. They spoke to him of the probability of exile. “I fear not your exile”, he answered, “for this city of yours is like a grain of lentil on the earth. Nevertheless, though I am a stranger and Lorenzo the first citizen in your city, I must remain and he must depart”. When in July, 1491, Savonarola was elected Prior of S, Marco, he refused to pay the usual visit of ceremony to Lorenzo. “I owe my election to God only”, he said, “and to Him will I pay my obedience”. Lorenzo, when this speech was told him, said in jest, “You see, a stranger has come into my house and does not even think fit to visit me”. It was the passing rebuke of a statesman to what he considered the discourtesy of ecclesiastical pretentiousness.

Lorenzo on his part could not sympathize with the exalted enthusiasm of Savonarola’s preaching. He could not fail to recognize that it contained elements of political danger, and he looked to the popular Franciscan, Mariano of Genazzano, to outdo Savonarola’s eloquence. But Mariano overshot the mark in a sermon on the text, “It is not for you to know the times and seasons”. His invective was so violent that it failed to carry conviction, and Mariano’s failure left Savonarola more popular than before. Lorenzo treated Savonarola with kindly tolerance; he visited the Convent of S. Marco as before, though Savonarola studiously kept out of his way. In his behaviour towards Lorenzo, Savonarola’s zeal led him to take up the position of a partisan. As a preacher of repentance he might have labored to influence Lorenzo amongst other sinners. As it was, he did not strive to bring Lorenzo to better ways, but aimed at a reformation in his despite.

Lorenzo bore no animosity against Savonarola, but respected him for his good intentions and was willing that the florentines should enjoy a preacher of their own choice. In the beginning of 1492 he suffered greatly from gout; and already on the departure of his son Giovanni for Rome, there were but slight hopes of his recovery. His disease grew worse and he prepared to die like a Christian. On April 7 he sent for a priest to administer to him the Holy Communion. He dragged himself from his sick bed, supported by his attendants, to go and meet the host, before which he knelt with expressions of devout contrition. The priest, seeing his weakness, besought him to lie down in bed, where he received the last solemn rites of religion. He then summoned his son Piero and gave him his last advice. He looked with a smile on Poliziano, who was at his bedside; “Ah! Angelo”, he said, and pressed his old friend’s hands. He asked for Pico, and bade him farewell, saying pleasantly, “I wish that death had left me time to finish your library”. When Pico had gone another visitor appeared, Fra Girolamo Savonarola. He came at the request of Lorenzo, who wished to die in charity with all men. Savonarola addressed a few words of exhortation to the dying man. He admonished him to hold the faith: Lorenzo replied that he held it firmly. He exhorted him to amend his life, and Lorenzo promised to do so diligently. Finally he urged him to endure death, if need be, with constancy. “Nothing could please me more”, said Lorenzo, “if it were God’s will”. Savonarola prepared to depart. “Give me your blessing, father, before you go”, Lorenzo asked. He bowed his head and with pious mien joined in Savonarola’s prayers, while all around gave way to uncontrolled grief. After this Lorenzo rapidly sank. He bade farewell to his servants and asked their forgiveness if he had in aught offended them. He desired to have read to him the Passion of our Lord, and his lips moved as he followed the reader. A crucifix was held before him; he raised himself to kiss it, fell back and died.

The death of Lorenzo was of grave moment to the politics of Italy, and bereft Innocent of his adviser. Innocent did not survive Lorenzo many months, and their record is that of a succession of festivals. On May 27, Don Ferrantino, Prince of Capua, son of Alfonso of Calabria, entered Rome in pomp, to celebrate the reconciliation of Naples with the Pope. He was entertained by Cardinal Ascanio Sforza at a banquet of incredible splendor, so that the chronicler Infessura declares himself unequal to the task of describing it. His retinue of 900 horse­men and 260 mules laden with luggage proved troublesome guests; they sold in the market much of the food with which the Pope supplied them, and at their departure they despoiled their quarters of all their furniture.

The arrival of Ferrantino was rapidly succeeded by an imposing ecclesiastical ceremony. The Sultan Bajazet, in his desire to ingratiate himself with his brother’s gaoler, sent the Pope a valuable present, the head of the lance with which the Saviour was pierced. There was some discussion among the Cardinals about the reception of this holy relic. It was pointed out that already both Paris and Nurnberg claimed to possess the same thing: it was urged that the Sultan, an enemy of the Christian faith, might be sending this gift in derision. The majority of the Cardinals were in favor of receiving it without any solemnity and waiting to make inquiries about its genuineness. But the Pope thought otherwise, and sent a Cardinal to receive it at Ancona and bring it reverently to Rome. On May 29 the Sultan's ambassador arrived and was conducted in state to his lodgings. It was thought well that he should come in advance of the prelates who bore the relic, so as not to mix an incongruous figure in the solemnity, which was fixed for Ascension Day, May 31. Meanwhile the question was raised how the next day should be spent. The vigil of the Ascension was a fast day; but Burchard, the papal Master of Ceremonies, gave it as his opinion that under present circumstances a fast, instead of inspiring devotion, might cause many to blaspheme. He suggested as an amendment to the fast that fountains of wine should play in the street through which the procession was to pass. The Pope so far followed his opinion as to say nothing about the fast in his proclamation of the ceremonies.

On May 31 Innocent VIII advanced to the Porta del Popolo and received the Holy Lance, which was borne in procession to the Vatican. The Pope was too feeble to attend the mass, but gave his benediction to the people from the loggia of the portico, while Cardinal Borgia standing by his side held aloft the relic. He then received the Sultan's ambassador and returned to his room, leaving the Cardinals to finish the ecclesiastical part of the ceremony.

Yet the ailing Pope could still nerve himself for a family festival. Ferrante of Naples, in his desire to detach the Pope from France, was willing to cement his political alliance by a marriage. He asked the hand of the Pope's granddaughter, Battistina Cibo, daughter of Gerardo Usodimare, for his grandson Don Luigi, Marquis of Gerace; and the marriage took place on June 3 in the Vatican, amidst a brilliant throng of lords and ladies. After this token of friendship the Prince of Capua received the investiture of Naples, which Innocent in 1489 had declared to have reverted to the Holy See.

From this time the health of Innocent grew worse, till in the beginning of July there were small hopes of his recovery. The Cardinals began to prepare against any tumults that might arise on his death. They placed Djem in a safe place over the Sistine Chapel, as they were afraid that an attempt might be made to seize so lucrative a prisoner. They gathered troops to protect the Vatican, and proceeded to make an inventory of the property of the Church. The dying Pope asked their permission to distribute 48,000 ducats amongst his relatives; they acceded to his request, and he made provision for his grandchildren. A fever seized him, and he sank slowly. At the last, he became so feeble that he could take no nourishment except woman’s milk. It is said that a Jew doctor offered to cure the Pope by transfusion of blood. Three boys of ten years old were chosen for this purpose, and were paid a ducat each; they died in the experiment, and the Pope obtained no benefit. On the night of July 25 Innocent died; he was buried on August 5 in S. Peter's, where his grave is adorned by a brazen monument of Pollaiuolo, which represents the Pope seated, and in the act of giving the benediction.

The inscription on the tomb of Innocent, “the constant guardian of the peace of Italy”, records his one claim to respect. Coming between Sixtus IV and Alexander VI, Innocent VIII seemed to play a harmless part in Italian politics. His easy good nature was a quality which all men appreciated, and which made Innocent an involuntary benefactor to Italy. He was incapable of any great design and willingly yielded himself to others. At first he was in the hands of Giuliano della Rovere, who urged him to follow the bold career of Sixtus IV. But Innocent had no capacity for facing difficulties, and shrank back at the approach of danger. He withdrew from his fiery adviser and placed himself in the hands of Lorenzo de' Medici, who skillfully used the Papacy as a great factor in the Italian balance of power which he strove to bring about. Moreover, Lorenzo used his opportunity to connect the interests of Rome and Florence, and establish the Medici family in the Curia, which thus became more widely representative of Italian politics.

In other matters also, he was helped by his incompetence. He enriched his family, but he had not the energy or capacity to do so by far-reaching schemes. He made his son Franceschetto, Count of Cervetri and Anguillara; but Franceschetto had no ambition beyond an easy life and on his father's death he sold his territory to Virginio Orsini. One of his nephews, Lorenzo Cibo, he created Cardinal; a dignity which Lorenzo worthily filled. But it was clear that the Cibo family was in no way remarkable. Innocent seems most at his ease when engaged in family festivals in the Vatican, which during his pontificate began to wear a home­like aspect. It was often graced with the presence of ladies, and Innocent VIII set the example of an estimable father of a family.

There were, however, affairs in which the easy good nature of Innocent did not stand him in such good stead. He was incapable of dealing with the turbulence of Rome, and his administration varied between outbursts of severity and periods of neglect. Generally the Vice-Chancellor Borgia and Franceschetto Cibo divided between them the fees that could be obtained from the administration of justice; and a lawless spirit of revenge prevailed amongst the dwellers in Rome. Innocent VIII was in sore need of money; he was not a good manager, and the troubles of the early part of his reign left him in great straits. To recruit his finances he followed the example of Sixtus IV and created new offices in the Curia, which he sold to aspiring candidates. He increased the number of papal secretaries to twenty-six, and sold these posts for 62,400 ducats. The new officials multiplied the general business of the Curia and exacted taxes on all appointments to offices in the Papal States; even from the officers who superintended the Roman markets. Moreover Innocent appointed fifty-two Plumbatores, whose duty was to seal the Bulls; each of them paid the Pope 2500 ducats on their appointment. This multiplication of needless offices as a means of raising money, not only increased the extortions of the Curia, but also lowered the character of its officials. In September, 1489, two papal secretaries and four subordinates were seized and imprisoned on the charge of forging papal Bulls. These two secretaries confessed that during the preceding two years they had forged and sold upwards of fifty Bulls, giving dispensations of various kinds. One of them adopted the ingenious process of obliterating portions of Bulls granted for small matters, and filling in the blank with matters of weightier moment. The Pope was naturally incensed at this discovery, and the criminals were burnt to death in spite of the efforts of wealthier relatives to buy them off. There were other irregularities in the Curia; many Jews and Marrani made their way to high places, and held the posts of scribes and protonotaries. But the general condition of the Curia was such that it was useless to be scrupulous about the lesser officials. The Cardinals lived lives of luxury ill-befitting the princes of the Church. It was said that in two nights' gambling at the palace of Raffaelle Riario, Franceschetto Cibo lost 14,000 ducats, and Cardinal La Balue 800. Riario was famous for his good luck, and Franceschetto, with characteristic feebleness, complained to the Pope of foul play. Innocent ordered Riario to restore the money, but was answered that it was already spent in paying for the new palace which he was engaged in building. It is no wonder that Cardinal Ardicino della Porta, a learned theologian, found Rome a dangerous place for one who had aspirations after a spiritual life. He laid aside his robes and left Rome secretly by night, with the intention of entering the monastery of Camaldoli. But he had only advanced to Roncilione when a messenger from the Pope commanded his return, as he had acted irregularly in laying aside his Cardinalate without the Pope's permission. The Cardinals objected to this bad example of seeking after saintliness; but Ardicino did not trouble them long; soon after his return to Rome he sickened and died.

Innocent was not a man of learning or of culture, though he welcomed Poliziano at Rome and received the dedication of his translation of Herodotus. Pomponius Laetus contrived to be the literary dictator of the city, and the classical revival took deeper and deeper hold of men's minds. In 1485 the Renaissance even discovered its saint. Some workmen engaged in excavations at the Via Appia found a marble sarcophagus, which when opened showed the body of a Roman girl who had been embalmed. Men's excited imaginations found in this mummy unsurpassed beauty; the maiden lay in all the loveliness of youth, her golden hair encircled with a fillet of gold; her eyes and mouth were partly open, and the roseate hue of health was on her cheek. Pilgrims from all parts of Italy flocked to Rome, amongst them many painters who wished to make sketches of this classic model. But the corpse gradually began to decompose through exposure to the air, and one night it was quietly buried on the Appian road in the tomb believed to be that of Cicero’s Tullia: nothing save the empty sarcophagus was left for the disappointed votaries. Of course the body was identified, and the general opinion was in favor of Julia, daughter of Claudius; though others claimed her as Priscilla, wife of Abascantius, Domitian’s minister, whose burial is sung by Statius.

Innocent continued the architectural decoration of Rome. He adorned the piazza of S. Peter's with a marble fountain, in the form of two vases one above the other, so finely wrought that it was reckoned to be the fairest work of the kind in Italy. He made some additions to the Vatican and to S. Peter's; but his chief work was the Villa Belvedere, designed by Antonio Pollaiuolo, which was erected in the Vatican gardens, and still stands joined by a cortile to the central block of buildings. A small chapel, dedicated to S. John, adjoined the Belvedere, and Andrea Mantegna was employed by the Pope to adorn it. This he did with so much care that the walls and ceiling seemed painted in miniature rather than fresco. A picture of the Baptism of Christ above the altar was remarkable for the realism shown in depicting the efforts of the crowd to divest themselves of their garments before entering the water. Innocent was an irregular paymaster, and one day when he visited the chapel he found Mantegna at work on an allegorical figure. He inquired the subject, and the painter with a meaning smile answered “Discretion”. “Set Patience beside her”, was Innocent’s answer. When the works were finished the Pope paid Mantegna liberally and dismissed him contented. These works of Mantegna were destroyed by Pius VI, who pulled down the chapel that he might enlarge the Vatican Museum.

Eight miles out of Rome in the direction of the sea Innocent built a country house, La Magliana, which was a favorite resort of his successors; but the advance of the malaria rendered it unhealthy and it now lies in ruins. It is still a massive pile of buildings and the name of Innocent may still be seen inscribed above the windows. In the city of Rome Innocent’s great work was the rebuilding of the ancient Church of S. Maria in Via Lata. For this purpose he removed the arch of Diocletian which stood on the site. Only the main building, as the church is at present, belongs to the time of Innocent; its façade and the decoration of the interior date from 1660,

The pontificate of Innocent was ignoble. He drifted with the stream, and his example was disastrous to the discipline of the Church. The general corruption of morals in Italy advanced unchecked during his pontificate. A Pope whose son and daughter were openly recognized in the Vatican could do nothing towards stemming the irregularity of the clergy. The Papacy under Innocent was merely a factor in Italian politics of which Lorenzo de' Medici made a prudent use; in the affairs of Christendom its voice was scarcely heard. The best that can be said of Innocent VIII is that in politics he was too indolent to do anything mischievous, and he was pacific because he shrank from effort. In minor matters he was generally complaisant, and England owed him some gratitude for a Bull which helped to reestablish peace by securing the succession of the crown to the children born of Henry VII and Elizabeth of York or any future wife. Henry VII further obtained from him a Bull which diminished the rights of sanctuary, an important concession to a king who was troubled by persistent rebellions. Bacon gives a true picture of Innocent when he says that this Bull was granted in return for a complimentary oration delivered by the English ambassadors: “The Pope knowing himself to be lazy and unprofitable to the Christian world was wonderfully glad to hear that there were such echoes of him sounding in so distant parts. He was willing to barter ecclesiastical immunities for a little judicious flattery".

CHAPTER VI.

BEGINNINGS OF ALEXANDER VI

1492—1494.

On August 6, 1492, the twenty-three Cardinals in Rome entered the Conclave. The death of Innocent VIII had been long foreseen, and the probabilities of the future election had been discussed. Innocent’s nephew, Lorenzo Cibo, was anxious for the election of someone bound to his house by ties of gratitude. His candidate was the Genoese Cardinal Pallavicini; but Cardinal Cibo shared the incompetence of his family, and when he saw that his first proposal was unacceptable he had no one else to propose. Charles VIII of France was anxious to secure the election of Cardinal Rovere, and sent 200,000 ducats to a Roman bank as a means of furthering his desire. A Pope in the French interest was dreaded by Milan; and Cardinal Ascanio Sforza was resolutely opposed to Rovere. Sforza did not judge it wise to put himself forward as a candidate; he rather wished to have a Pope who would owe everything to him, and he joined with Raffaelle Riario in pressing the election of Cardinal Borgia. There were many reasons why Borgia should be acceptable. As a Spaniard he would hold a neutral position towards political parties in Italy, and the recent successes of the Spanish monarchs had turned men's eyes to Spain as a power which was rising to importance in the affairs of Christendom. Moreover Borgia was the richest Cardinal in Rome; his election would vacate many important offices, for which there were eager candidates. The former objections to his personal character disappeared in the low tone of morality which was now almost universal.

The first days of the Conclave were spent in the futile proceeding of making regulations to bind the future Pope. Ascanio Sforza, seconded by Orsini, was working hard to secure the election of Borgia, who debased himself to make the most humble entreaties. Borgia’s wealth was a useful argument to confirm the minds of waverers; Ascanio Sforza’s zeal was increased by the promise of the office of Vice-Chancellor and Borgia’s palace; Orsini, Colonna, Savelli, Sanseverino, Riario, Pallavicini, even the nonagenarian Gherardo of Venice, all received promises of benefices or gifts of money. So matters proceeded smoothly in the Conclave, and late in the evening of August 10 the election of Rodrigo Borgia was unanimously accomplished.

We are told that the first utterance of the newly-elected Pope was a cry of joy, “I am Pope and Vicar of Christ”. Cardinal Sforza said that the election was the work of God, and that “great things were expected of the new Pope for the good of the Church”. Borgia replied that he felt his own weakness, but trusted to God’s Holy Spirit. He showed great haste in clothing himself with the pontifical vestments, and ordered the Master of the Ceremonies to write the fact of his election on pieces of paper and throw them out of the window. It was late in the evening when the election was made, and not till the early dawn did the crowd assemble outside the Vatican and hear the customary proclamation from the window; then the bells rung and Rome was filled with rejoicing. When Borgia was asked what name he would take, and “Calixtus” was suggested in remembrance of his uncle, he answered, “We desire the name of the invincible Alexander”. Cardinal Medici, alarmed at the demeanor of the new Pope, whispered in the ear of Cardinal Cibo, “We are in the jaws of a rapacious wolf; if we do not flee he will devour us”. Alexander VI was enthroned in S. Peter’s, where Cardinal Sanseverino, a man of huge stature, lifted the new Pope in his arms and placed him on the high altar.

Rodrigo Borgia was born at Xativa, in the diocese of Valencia, on January 1, 1431. His parents, Jofre and Isabella Borgia, were cousins, and belonged to a family which may have had far-off claims to nobility, but was poor and of small account. The young Rodrigo was early destined to a clerical career, in which his uncle Alfonso, Bishop of Valencia, could help him to preferment. The elevation of Alfonso Borgia to the pontificate brought Rodrigo a Cardinalate at the age of twenty-five, and soon afterwards the lucrative office of Vice-Chancellor. At the time of his election to the Papacy, he had had thirty-six years' experience of the Curia, and had served under five Popes. He went with Pius II to the Congress of Mantua, and had been the legate of Sixtus IV to Spain in the first fervor of his crusading zeal. He had seen the old ideals of the Papacy die away, and had gracefully accommodated himself to changes as they came. He was always influential but never powerful, and cultivated useful friends. He was capable in business and used his opportunities to amass money, so that no Cardinal, except Estouteville, ever established so great a reputation for wealth.

On great occasions he displayed a becoming magnificence, as at the festival of Pius II at Viterbo, and the celebration in Rome of the fall of Grenada; but he was not given to prodigality or luxury. He lived with careful economy, and when he was Pope preferred to make his meal of one dish only, so that lovers of good fare found it an infliction to dine with him. He built himself a splendid palace near the river; but in so doing he only followed the fashion of his time. He was kindly, and showed active benevolence to those who were in want. But the most striking thing about him was his fascinating appearance and attractive manners. “He is handsome”, says a contemporary, “with a pleasant look, and honeyed tongue; he attracts ladies to love him, and draws them to him in a wondrous way more than a magnet draws iron”.

Cardinal Borgia’s fascinations for women were not always kept in check by rigorous self-restraint. When he was at Siena in 1460, Pius II reproved him for unseemly gallantry. Cardinal Ammannati at a later date wrote and exhorted him to a change of life. Indeed, there were evidences enough that Cardinal Borgia was not true to his priestly vow of chastity. He had a daughter Girolama who was old enough to be married in 1482. A son, Pedro Luis, lived in Spain, and Cardinal Borgia used some of his wealth to buy for him the duchy of Gandia; he died, however, in 1488, before his father's accession to the Papacy. Besides these children, whose mother we do not know, Cardinal Borgia had four others, Giovanni, Cesare, Lucrezia, and Jofre, whose mother's name was Vanozza dei Catanei, a Roman. The testimonies that we have of Vanozza speak of her as an excellent woman, and the inscription on her tomb calls her upright, pious and charitable. Her youngest son Jofre was born in 1480 or 1481; and either immediately before or after his birth she was married to a scribe, Giorgio della Croce, and after his death in 1485, she married a second husband, Carlo Canale, a secretary of the Penitentiary. Vanozza lived a quiet and secluded life; we never hear of her presence at the Vatican, or of any recognition shown her by the Pope. She sighs a letter to her daughter Lucrezia “La Felice et Infelice Madre Vanozza Borgia”. “The happy and unhappy mother”—that was the summary of her chequered life. She was happy in her children, their worldly success, their splendid opportunities; she was unhappy because there was a bar between them and her, and she could only witness their triumphs from a distance. She lived to the age of seventy-six, and died respected in 1518.

These facts about the private life of Cardinal Borgia must have been known to the majority of his electors. But the election of Innocent VIII had already shown that the current feeling, even amongst Churchmen, was not rigorous in judging breaches of the priestly vow. Cardinal Borgia was a loving and tender father, who took care betimes for the advancement of his children. They were probably all brought up by relatives of his at Rome. Girolama was comfortably married at an early age; Giovanni succeeded to his brother's duchy of Gandia in Spain; Cesare was destined for a clerical career, and in 1488 Sixtus IV granted him a dispensation from proving the legality of his birth, and allowed him to receive minor orders at the age of seven. In 1482 another act of Sixtus IV appointed Cardinal Borgia administrator of the revenues of any ecclesiastical benefices which might be conferred upon this young clerk before he reached the age of fourteen. The tolerance of Sixtus IV and the example of Innocent VIII had relaxed the bonds of ecclesiastical discipline into accordance with prevalent morality. Cardinal Borgia was a kindly man and likely to make a capable ruler: his elevation to the Papacy suited the self-interest of the College of Cardinals. They looked no further into his private life; and Italy in general was quite satisfied with the choice which they made.

The Romans rejoiced in the election of Alexander VI, which opened to them the prospect of a splendid pontificate. On the night of his enthronement the magistrates rode in procession by torchlight to the Vatican to do him honor. For a mile the streets and squares gleamed with the brightness of midday. “Even Mark Antony”, exclaims a spectator, “did not receive Cleopatra with such splendor. I thought of the nocturnal sacrifices of the ancients, or the Bacchanals bearing torches in honor of their god”. The Pope received them graciously, and gave his benediction, from the top of the Vatican.

On August 26 the coronation of Alexander VI was celebrated with unwonted magnificence. The Cardinals vied with one another in the splendor of the dresses of their equipage for the procession which accompanied the Pope in his progress to the Lateran. The streets were adorned with triumphal arches, with tapestries, flowers and paintings which celebrated the glories of Cardinal Borgia in the past and foretold his successes in the future. There were processions of allegorical figures and addresses in profusion. The inscriptions in the streets were framed in terms of extravagant adulation; and the Borgia arms, a grazing bull on a gold field, lent itself to mythological interpretations of surpassing ingenuity. By the Palazzo of S. Marco was a gigantic figure of a bull, from whose horns, eyes, nostrils and ears flowed water, and from its forehead a stream of wine. The procession moved slowly, and the intense heat of an August sun was so oppressive to the Pope, who sweltered beneath the weight of his magnificent apparel, that when he reached the Lateran he could scarcely stand. He had to be propped up by two Cardinals; and when he sat down at last on the papal throne he fainted, and was supported by Cardinal Riario till he recovered consciousness.

Alexander repaid the loyalty of the Roman citizens by taking steps for the restoration of order within Rome. It was computed that in the interval between the death of Innocent VIII and the coronation of Alexander no fewer than 220 men had been assassinated in the streets. Alexander made an example of the first assassin whom he could discover. He sent the magistrates to pull down his house; he hanged the culprit and his brother. It was so long since Rome had seen such vigor in the administration of justice, that the citizens ascribed it to the direct disposition of God. Alexander further established commissioners for the trial of disputes, and appointed days of public audience in which he himself decided quarrels. He gave every sign of vigor and good intentions and even undertook to reform in the Curia. “He has promised”, wrote the Ferrarese ambassador on August 17, “to make many reforms in the Curia, to dismiss the secretaries and many tyrannical officials, to keep his sons far from Rome, and make worthy appointments. It is said that he will be a glorious pontiff and will have no need of guardians”. We have no reason for thinking that Alexander's intentions were not sincere; but the love of his relatives was strong within him, and his good intentions fell before his regard for his own kin. On September 1 he raised to the Cardinalate a nephew, Juan Borgia, Bishop of Monreale, and issued a Bull in which, “by the consent of the Cardinals, and the plenitude of the Apostolic power”, he absolved himself from keeping the restrictions imposed by the regulations of the Conclave on the nomination of Cardinals.

If Rome was well content with the new Pope, so also were the Italian powers. Congratulatory embassies poured into the city, and vied with one another in praising the majestic appearance, the tried capacity, and large experience of Alexander. Italy was sincere in its good wishes; it felt the need of a guiding hand in its political perplexities. Men were enjoying prosperity to the full, and only longed for peace in which to reap the harvest of pleasure. But a vague presentiment of coming misfortune mingled with their satisfaction; and the prophecies of Savonarola owed their force to the fact that they corresponded to a concealed uneasiness. The death of Lorenzo de' Medici removed a powerful influence for peace; Italy looked for guidance to the new Pope.

The chief source of danger to the peace of Italy lay in the condition of affairs at Milan. The assassination of Galeazzo Maria Sforza, in 1476, left the duchy of Milan in the hands of his infant son, Gian Galeazzo. His mother, Bona of Savoy, undertook the regency, and managed to hold it in spite of the machinations of the four brothers of the deceased duke. But Bona’s government was feeble, and the eldest of these brothers, Ludovico Sforza, surnamed Il Moro, succeeded in 1479 in wresting the power from her hands. Ludovico ruled as regent of Milan, and was helped at Rome by his brother, the Cardinal Ascanio. In 1482 Bona appealed to King Louis XI of France, but the death of Louis XI delivered Ludovico from danger. The young Gian Galeazzo was kept in retirement at Pavia and Ludovico reigned supreme. But Gian Galeazzo had been affianced by his mother to Isabella, daughter of Alfonso, Duke of Calabria, and when in 1489 he reached the age of twenty, Ludovico had no pretext for refusing to fulfill the contract. Gian Galeazzo was married with all due festivity, and then returned with his wife to Pavia. In 1490 Isabella gave birth to a son, and it became increasingly difficult for Ludovico to keep his nephew any longer in tutelage. In 1491 Ludovico married Beatrice d'Este, daughter of the Duke of Ferrara, and the indignation of Isabella was increased by seeing another receive the homage and enjoy the splendor which she justly considered to be her own. She appealed to her father Alfonso for help to restore her husband to his rightful station, and Alfonso was willing to attend her summons. The old age of Ferrante made him cautious, and the influence of Lorenzo de' Medici had preserved peace hitherto; but war was imminent unless Ludovico Sforza withdrew from his usurped authority. Both sides waited anxiously to see the policy of the new Pope; and Italy generally hoped that he might play the part of mediator. The death of Innocent VIII left the Papacy at peace with Naples; but Alexander VI owed his election to Ascanio Sforza, brother of Ludovico Il Moro. The political position of the new Pope was delicate, and the consequences of his action were likely to be momentous.

On December 11, Don Federigo, Prince of Altamura, second son of Ferrante, arrived in Rome to congratulate the new Pope and offer him the obedience of Naples. He was magnificently entertained by Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere during his stay. There was every outward manifestation of good-will between the Pope and Don Federigo; but difficulties had already begun to arise. Federigo besought the Pope to side with Naples in a family matter. Mathias Corvinus, King of Hungary, had married Beatrice, an illegitimate daughter of King Ferrante. On the death of Mathias in 1490, Beatrice lent her influence to procure the Hungarian succession for Wladislaf, King of Bohemia, on condition that he married her in return. Wladislaf succeeded to the Hungarian crown, but sought a dispensation from his promise of marriage. Don Federigo begged the Pope to refuse this dispensation, and when Alexander VI refused to make any promise in the matter, Federigo was aggrieved.

It is not surprising that Alexander was not over anxious to please the King of Naples. He had received the news of a transaction which he could not look upon without alarm, and which was clearly due to Neapolitan intrigues. On the death of Innocent VIII his son Franceschetto Cibo had withdrawn to Florence, to live under the protection of his brother-in-law, Piero de' Medici. Franceschetto had no ambition beyond that of leading a comfortable life, and did not care for the responsibilities attaching to a baron in the States of the Church. He had not aspired to found a principality, and at his father's death he hastened to dispose of lands which Innocent VIII had conferred upon him, the lordships of Cervetri and Anguillara. As early as September 3, he sold them for 40,000 ducats to Virginio Orsini; and Piero de' Medici negotiated the bargain between his two brothers-in-law. As Virginio Orsini was a firm adherent of Ferrante of Naples, it was clear that Ferrante had supplied the money for this purchase. Alexander was justified in objecting to this unauthorized transfer of lands held under the Pope; and Ludovico Il Moro regarded with suspicion a transaction which opened up the road from Naples to Tuscany, and which showed a good understanding between Piero de' Medici and Ferrante.

In the delicate equilibrium of Italian politics a small matter sufficed to bring powerful parties into antagonism. Alexander, urged by Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, protested against the transfer of Cervetri and Anguillara. The cause of Naples was espoused by Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, who had been the Neapolitan candidate for the Papacy, and who was supported by the Colonna and the Orsini. Giuliano was opposed to Ascanio Sforza, and was resolved that one or other of them should quit the Curia. Hostile feeling went so far between them, and Alexander was so clearly allied with Ascanio, that Giuliano suspected the Pope of forging some plot to ruin his reputation and deprive him of his dignities, and did not consider Rome a safe place of residence. At the end of January, 1493, he withdrew to his bishopric of Ostia, where he surrounded himself with armed men. This was a direct menace, as Ostia commanded the mouth of the Tiber and might cut off supplies from Rome; and Alexander was alarmed at this hostile demonstration. One day, when he was going to picnic at Innocent VIII's villa of La Magliana, he was so terrified by the sound of some cannon which were fired in honor of his approach, that he returned in haste to Rome, amid the murmurs of his attendants, who were disappointed of their dinner. He suspected a landing of Neapolitan troops at Ostia, and an attempt to seize his person.

Ludovico II Moro, on his side, was alarmed at the alliance between Florence and Naples, and sought to meet it by a league between the Pope, Milan, and Venice. Ferrante of Naples saw, with the wisdom of long experience, the dangers which would follow a breach of the peace of Italy. He was willing to gather together a party which might make him formidable to the Pope; but he hastened to adopt the position of mediator and do away with all causes of dispute. He sent envoys to Alexander urging the cause of peace. He sent envoys to Florence, even to Milan, to plead for pacific counsels, and to make proposals for a peaceful settlement of the question of Anguillara. Alexander so far listened to Ferrante as to propose a marriage of his young son Jofre with Donna Lucrezia, a granddaughter of Ferrante. But either Alexander did not trust Ferrante, or he wished to terrify him further, or the influence of Milan was still too strong in Rome. He gathered troops and prepared for war; he fortified the walls between the Vatican and the Castle of S. Angelo. Ludovico Sforza pursued his negotiations for a league; and Venice was won over by the dread of a predominance of the power of Naples in North Italy, if Ferrante succeeded in ousting Ludovico in favor of Gian Galeazzo, who would be entirely dependent on Naples. On April 25 Alexander, accompanied by an armed escort, celebrated mass in the church of S. Marco, and after mass published his league with Venice, the Duke of Milan, Siena, Mantua, and Ferrara. The bells of the Roman churches were rung in sign of joy, and Rome wore a military aspect.

When the news reached Naples, the king's eldest son, Alfonso, wished, to unite at once with Piero de' Medici, arouse the Orsini and Colonna, and attack Rome. The more cautious Ferrante checked a plan which would have plunged Italy into confusion. Yet he saw only too clearly the dangers of an alliance between Ludovico Sforza and France, and in his alarm he turned for help to the Spanish king. He wrote a long invective against the Pope, who so terrorized his Cardinals that they dared not speak the truth, and dreaded lest they should be driven away from Rome like Cardinal Rovere; Alexander had found Italy in profound peace, and had already created discord. Ferrante gave his own account of the Pope's policy and then proceeded, “He leads a life that is abhorred by all, without respect to the seat which he holds. He cares for nothing else save to aggrandize his children by fair means or foul. From the beginning of his pontificate he has done nothing else than plunge us into disquietude”. Ferrante showed his foresight; he had penetrated the Pope’s policy of regaining the possessions of the Holy See, and of promoting the interests of his children. He saw that Alexander was resolute and unscrupulous, and he found out the weak point in his position when he urged against him the disorders of his private life.

Spain was at this time connected with the Pope about a most momentous matter. The Genoese, Cristoforo Colombo, arrived at the Spanish court in March, 1493, with the astounding news of the discovery a new continent. The mediaeval love of adventure, which found its expression in the crusading spirit, had taken a new shape under the inspiration of the awakening curiosity of the Renaissance, and Colombo had gone forth in quest of new regions which might be added to Christendom. The ardor of the explorer, strengthened by the fervor of religious zeal, had led to a great discovery. The idea of the New World filled men's minds with strange excitement, and Colombo set out again to extend the field of knowledge.

Meanwhile Ferdinand and Isabella thought it wise to secure a title to all that might ensue from their new discovery. The Pope, as Vicar of Christ, was held to have authority to dispose of lands inhabited by the heathen; and by papal Bulls the discoveries of Portugal along the African coast had been secured. The Portuguese showed signs of urging claims to the New World, as being already conveyed to them by the papal grants previously issued in their favor. To remove all cause of dispute the Spanish monarchs at once had recourse to Alexander, who issued two Bulls on May 4 and 5 to determine the respective rights of Spain and Portugal. In the first, the Pope granted to the Spanish monarchs and their heirs all lands discovered or hereafter to be discovered in the western ocean. In the second, he defined his grant to mean all lands that might be discovered west and south of an imaginary line, drawn from the North to the South Pole, at the distance of a hundred leagues westward of the Azores and Cape de Verde Islands. In the light of our present knowledge we are amazed at this simple means of disposing of a vast extent of the earth's surface. We have to remind ourselves that no one grasped the importance of the new impulse which Europe had received; and the Pope's solution of the difficulties likely to arise between Spain and Portugal was sufficiently accurate for the knowledge of his age.

A Pope who had shown himself so ready to reward the Christian zeal of Spain had no cause to dread any untoward results to himself from Spanish intervention, though the Spanish rulers looked on him with no good will. “They fear”, writes Peter Martyr, “lest his cupidity, his ambition, or, what is more serious, his tenderness towards his children, should expose the Christian religion to peril”. Their fears were not without good grounds. Alexander was occupied in using the position which he held in Italian politics as a means of furthering the interests of his children. He had already striven to provide for his daughter Lucrezia, by betrothing her in 1491, at the age of thirteen, to a Spaniard, Don Cherubin de Centelles. Scarcely was the betrothal accomplished before Cardinal Borgia found a better husband in another Spaniard, Don Gasparo da Procida, to whom she was contracted in the same year. But his elevation to the papal dignity enabled Alexander to look still higher for a son-in-law; the contract with Don Gasparo was dissolved, and Alexander used his alliance with the Sforza to wed his daughter to Giovanni Sforza, lord of Pesaro. The marriage was celebrated in the Vatican on June 12, in the presence of the Pope, ten Cardinals, and the chief nobles of Rome, whose wives, to the number of a hundred and fifty, were also invited. The marriage feast was magnificent; the Roman ladies were presented by the Pope with silver cups full of sweetmeats, which were in many cases thrown into their bosoms; magnificent gifts were offered to the bridal pair. After the banquet there was a ball, and the Pope and his companions spent the whole night in this splendid entertainment, which was varied by comedies of a questionable character. The Pope married his daughter with the splendor becoming his secular greatness; but he gave, at the same time, an open manifestation of disregard for ecclesiastical discipline, and certainly set the tongues of men wagging with hints of graver irregularities.

Three days after this festivity the Spanish envoy, Don Diego Lopez de Haro, arrived in Rome to offer the obedience of the Spanish monarchs. He had many questions to discuss with the Pope. There were points to be settled about the discovery of the New World and the steps to be taken for its evangelization; and Ferdinand the Catholic needed grants of Church revenues to enable him to carry on his crusading projects, which he hoped to extend as far as the recovery of the Holy Land. Moreover, Spain was aggrieved at the reception into the Papal States of the refugee Jews or Moors who were driven from Spain by the stringency of the Inquisition. The Spaniards, in the assertion of their nationality, were desirous to rid themselves of all foreign elements, and employed the Inquisition for that purpose. The crowds of luckless Marrani, as they were called, awakened the compassion of the Italians who saw them arrive on their coast; and many of them came to Rome, where they were subjected to no persecution. A crowd encamped outside the Appian Gate, and were the means of bringing an outbreak of plague into the city. The papal tolerance was displeasing to the Spanish rulers, and the ambassador expressed his wonder that the Pope, who was the head of the Christian faith, should receive into his city those who had been driven from Spain as enemies to the Christian faith. We do not find that Alexander paid much heed to these remonstrances; the Papacy in its spirit of toleration was far in advance of public opinion.

The most important object, however, of the Spanish ambassador was to urge on Alexander the maintenance of the peace of Italy, as the means of preventing French interference. To make his intervention more powerful the envoy set forth ecclesiastical grievances which needed remedy at the hands of the Pope. He pointed out the extortions of the Curia, the abuse of dispensations for pluralities, the heedlessness shown in ecclesiastical appointments and such like matters, which since the days of the Council of Constance had been standing complaints against the Papacy, to be urged in all negotiations for other purposes. The real point which Spain wished to press on the Pope was peace with Naples. Ludovico Il Moro, though strong in his league with the Pope and Venice, did not trust much to the sincerity of his allies. He carried on a double policy, and negotiated with Charles VIII, whose fancy was so fired by the Milanese ambassador, Belgioso, that he entered into a secret agreement with Ludovico, who, though warned of the dangers of his course, trusted that a disturbance in Italian affairs would turn out to his own profit. He wished to be prepared against all risks.

The pleadings of the Spanish ambassador were enforced by a hostile demonstration on the part of Naples. Don Federigo of Altamura came to Ostia with eleven galleys, and was welcomed by Cardinal Rovere, Virginio Orsini, and the Colonna. Alexander VI agreed to negotiate, and a truce was made. Don Federigo came to Rome, and was followed on July 24 by Cardinal Rovere and Virginio Orsini. Rome rejoiced at the expectations of peace which the representations of the Spanish envoy at length succeeded in making. Virginio Orsini was allowed to keep the castles which he had bought from Franceschetto Cibo on condition that he again paid the purchase money, 40,000 ducats, to the Pope; and peace with Naples was cemented by a marriage between the Pope’s son Jofre and Sancia, a daughter of Alfonso. As Jofre was only thirteen years old, the marriage could not take place immediately; but it was agreed that he should go to Naples and receive his wife’s dowry, the principality of Squillace. This agreement with Naples was only concluded when the ambassador of Charles VIII, Perron de Basche, who had been sent to try the dispositions of the Italian powers towards the French invasion of Naples, arrived in Rome, He came too late to win over Alexander and was dismissed with vague admonitions.

Ferrante of Naples rejoiced that by his alliance with the Pope all difficulties were now at an end, and the schemes of France were baffled; but he wished to be sure of the Pope's good intentions, and urged the withdrawal of papal favour from Cardinal Ascanio Sforza. In this he was seconded by Cardinal Rovere, who showed all his uncle’s resoluteness in prosecuting his animosities. Alexander adopted a policy of conciliation; he did not dismiss Ascanio, but he showed signs of favor to Rovere. He wished to unite the Cardinal College that he might decorously accomplish a creation of new Cardinals. Accordingly he used his opportunity when both parties had much to hope from his favor in the future, and on September 20 created twelve new Cardinals without encountering any decided opposition to his choice, though it is said that only seven of the old Cardinals gave their assent.

The new Cardinals were fairly chosen from various parts of Christendom. Amongst them was an English-man, John Morton, Archbishop of Canterbury, a Frenchman, a Spaniard, Raymund Perrault, Bishop of Gurk, a favorite of Maximilian, Ippolito d'Este, son of Duke Ercole of Ferrara and of Leonora, daughter of Ferrante of Naples; and the rest represented various Italian powers. But two of the new Cardinals owed their position to the personal favor of the Pope. One was the Pope’s son, Cesare Borgia, a youth of eighteen, who had been carefully educated at Rome, and afterwards had studied at the Universities of Perugia and Pisa. Innocent VIII conferred upon him the bishopric of Pampluna, and Alexander VI that of Valencia, which he had held himself before his pontificate. Cesare was regarded as a young man of great promise, the rising hope of the Borgia family.

Another creation which gave rise to greater scandal was that of Alessandro Farnese, who afterwards became Pope Paul III. The Farnese family had not hitherto been of much importance in Rome. They took their name from the Isola Farnese, a castle built on the ruins of the ancient Veii, but had not made themselves important amongst the dynasties of small barons who held the Tuscan Campagna. Alessandro Farnese was, however, a man of some capacity, and was Protonotary of the Church. He owed his good fortune under Alexander VI to his sister Giulia, who in 1489 married Orsino Orsini, whose mother Adriana was a relative of Alexander, and brought up his daughter Lucrezia. Giulia was a great favorite with the Pope, and her influence founded the fortunes of the Farnese family in Rome, so that Alessandro was mockingly called “Il Cardinale della gonella”, the petticoat Cardinal. The relations of Alexander to Giulia were a matter of common rumor, and men openly spoke of her as the Pope’s mistress.

We might hesitate to believe the voice of rumor on such a matter, in an age when men's tongues were unrestrained by any thoughts of decency. But a letter written by the Pope's own hand to his daughter Lucrezia, in July, 1494, expresses the greatest concern at Giulia's departure from Rome without his express permission, and rebukes Lucrezia for her want of consideration to himself in having allowed this departure to take place during his absence. Moreover, the new Cardinal Alessandro, and the Florentine Lorenzo Pucci, his brother-in-law, who also became a Cardinal later, certainly believed in the connection between Giulia and the Pope. They recognized a daughter of Giulia, born in 1492, as the Pope’s child, and speculated as early as 1493 on matrimonial projects for this infant. Pucci paid Giulia a visit and was struck by the resemblance which her daughter bore to the strongly-marked features of the Pope; Giulia’s husband was, in his opinion, amply compensated for his equivocal position by a few castles near Basanello. It is difficult to doubt this evidence. Alexander, though now of the age of sixty-two, still possessed the power of “drawing women to him as a magnet draws iron”. Giulia Farnese lived under his protection, and used her influence to promote the interests of her family. It was regarded as natural by the Cardinals that such should be the case, and no one in Italy was particularly scandalized at this state of things. It was universally recognized that the Pope was an Italian prince, and that his policy largely depended on arrangements for his domestic comfort.

The political condition of Italy received a further shock by the death of Ferrante of Naples on January 25, 1494. He was seventy years old and had reigned Ferrante for thirty-five years. Cruel and treacherous as Ferrante had shown himself, he was not a harsh ruler to the people, though he ruthlessly crushed the barons. He had great political experience and had learned caution in his long and tortuous career; he was profoundly impressed with the evils likely to follow on French intervention in Italy, and his last efforts had been directed to prevent it. Since the death of Lorenzo de' Medici he was the only Italian who deserved the name of statesman. He died regretted not so much for any merits of his own as from dread of his successor Alfonso II, whose violent and brutal character had created universal terror.

The death of Ferrante gave Charles VIII an opportunity to advance formally his claims on the Neapolitan kingdom, and Alexander at first made a show of drawing to the French side. On February 1, he issued a brief taking Charles VIII under his protection and authorizing him to come with an army to Rome on his way to a crusade against the Turks. No mention was made of Naples; but Charles VIII’s claims were notorious. The French ambassadors, supported by a strong party among the Cardinals, protested against Alfonso II’s investiture with the Neapolitan kingdom; but Alexander had much to gain from Alfonso’s gratitude, and perhaps saw the dangers of a French invasion, though he was willing to use it as a threat when his own purposes required. He agreed to recognize Alfonso II, and appointed a legate to confer on him the Neapolitan crown, whereon the French ambassador appealed to a future Council. Cardinal Rovere now abandoned the cause of Naples, when Naples was allied with the Pope; filled with distrust and hatred of Alexander he again retired to Ostia. In April he took ship to Genoa and thence made his way to the French king, who received him with respect. He bitterly complained of Alexander, and his personal animosity led him to aid the foreigners to enter Italy, a step the evil effects of which he afterwards vainly strove to counteract.

Alfonso II was crowned in Naples on May 7, and his daughter’s marriage with Jofre Borgia was celebrated with pomp and rejoicings. Jofre was made Prince of Squillace, with a revenue of 40,000 ducats; his eldest brother, the Duke of Gandia, was made Prince of Tricarico; and Cardinal Cesare was enriched by Neapolitan benefices. Ostia, the stronghold of the rebellious Cardinal Rovere, was captured by the papal forces. Thus Alexander had reduced his enemies and enriched his family. But his arrangements had no permanent foundation; while he developed his plans Charles VIII was gathering his army.

Alexander and Ludovico Sforza had been willing to use the French invasion as a threat; it was rapidly becoming a reality. Yet Alexander cannot fairly be accused of having caused this beginning of the ruin of Italy, and when it actually came to pass he did his best to stay it. But he was no wiser and no more disinterested than the other Italian princes of the time; he alternately invoked and dissuaded to suit his own purposes. A resolute attitude, a moderating spirit at the beginning of his pontificate, might have averted the impending disaster. Italy had been only too successful in enchaining the Papacy and bringing it entirely within the sphere of its moral and political ideas. The secularization of the Papacy had become so complete that at a crisis in the fate of Italy, the Pope had no higher ideas than the aggrandizement of his own family, and no greater political influence than a secondary Italian power.

CHAPTER VII.

CHARLES VIII IN ITALY

1494—1495.

The Italian expedition of Charles VIII marks a new epoch in the politics of Europe. While Italy was busied with the emancipation of men's minds and the organization of intellectual life, a great political change was passing over Europe. France and England, after a long period of destructive warfare and internal troubles, had attained a national unity which they had never known before. Spain, by united action against the Infidels, had gained the elements of a strong national life. Even in distracted Germany the long reign of Frederick III had made the Austrian House the centre of German affairs; and Frederick's son Maximilian was spreading into outlying regions the claims and influence of the House of Austria. Everywhere there were signs of new and powerful political organizations centring round a monarchy. As Italy found that the intellectual forms of the Middle Ages were no longer fit to contain the new wine of man's spirit, so other lands drifted away from the mediaeval conception of politics. Feudalism was crumbling; and the different classes in the State were being brought into more direct connection with the Crown. There was a growing consciousness of national unity, which was the sure forerunner of a wish for national aggrandizement.

France was the first nation which realized her new strength. Charles VII reconquered France from the English; but he owed his conquest greatly to the help of the Dukes of Brittany and Burgundy. Louis XI was aided by fortune as much as by his own cleverness in his endeavours to make himself really King of France. The Dukes of Berry, Burgundy, Anjou, and Brittany died without male heirs; Louis XI inherited Berry from his brother, and managed to gain from the Burgundian heritage the towns on the Somme and the Duchy of Burgundy. René of Anjou died in 1480 and left Anjou to the French Crown; his other possessions, Provence and the Angevin claim to Naples, he bequeathed to his nephew Charles of Maine, who died next year, after having instituted Louis XI his universal legatee. At the accession of Charles VIII Brittany only remained as a bulwark of feudalism against the might of the Crown. The young king's nearest relative, the Duke of Orleans, made common cause with the Duke of Brittany; but the royal army was successful; the Duke of Orleans was imprisoned, and the Duke of Brittany died of chagrin. There were still elements of discord, as England threatened to interfere in Brittany, and Maximilian was betrothed to its heiress. But the young king Charles VIII in 1491 assured the internal peace and accomplished the unity of France by freeing Louis of Orleans from his prison and treating him as a friend, while by marriage with Anne of Brittany he united the last great fief to the French Crown. France entered upon a period of prosperity unknown before, and its king was eager to find a field for his energies

The assertion of the old claims of the House of Anjou on Naples opened up a prospect which might well have turned a wiser head than that of Charles VIII. With them was united the title to the kingdom of Jerusalem; Naples was the stepping-stone to a great crusading expedition, in which the French king, strong in his national forces, might stand at the head of Europe and strike a deadly blow at the common enemy of Christendom. The old spirit of adventure joined with the new desire for national aggrandizement, and still strove to accommodate itself to the religious ideal of the past. The policy of France rested on a visionary basis.

Charles VIII, however, would never have been able to realize his dream if Italy had not invited him. The views of Italian statesmen were bounded by the artificial equilibrium of Italian politics. They were accustomed to a system of constantly changing combinations depending on the interests of the moment. They played a game of ceaseless check and counter check till they lost all sense of the reality of political forces. They had used the threat of French intervention as a weapon in extremities till they had forgotten its actual meaning. Ludovico Sforza regarded it as a means of producing new combinations of political forces in Italy, and did not scruple to use it for his own purposes. But none of the other powers offered any decided resistance when the project began to take definite form. Venice was coldly cautious; Alexander VI dallied with the idea as a means of driving Naples into close alliance; Cardinal Rovere, in his hatred of the Pope, fled to France, and added his entreaties to those of Ludovico Sforza. Italy was devoid of national feeling, and its statesmen, in spite ot their boasted astuteness, knew nothing of the real forces which lay beyond the borders of Italy. The substitution of cleverness for principle was Italy’s ruin.

Before undertaking his expedition to Italy, Charles VIII was careful to protect himself against a coalition of enemies. In 1492 he made peace with Henry VII of England, and undertook to pay him for all his claims. In 1493 he made peace with Spain, and ceded the frontier provinces of Roussillon and Cerdagne which were matters of dispute. He even mollified Maximilian, whom he had robbed of his bride, by giving up the claims of France to parts of the Burgundian heritage. He made large sacrifices of the interests of France that he might feel himself free to prosecute the splendid enterprise on which his heart was set. In March, 1494, Charles went to Lyons, where he spent his money in festivities and lived a life of pleasure that seemed a strange prelude to a warlike expedition. His counselors strove to dissuade him from his purpose, and his envoys in Italy reported that the alliance between the Pope, Naples, and Piero de' Medici was firm; Venice remained neutral; only the Duke of Savoy, the Marquis of Montserrat, the Marquis of Saluzzo, and Duke Ercole of Ferrara, declared themselves friendly to France. The rest of Italy was cautiously waiting to join the winning side. Even Ludovico Sforza hesitated, till the military preparations of Alfonso II showed him that his ruin, was at hand unless he gained the help of France.

When the danger from France was imminent Alexander VI and Alfonso II cemented their alliance by an interview on July 14, at Vicovaro, where they resolved on the measures to be taken for their common protection. Alexander was anxious for the safety of his own dominions; and it was agreed that Alfonso II should wait with his troops on the border of the Abruzzi, while Virginio Orsini should defend the Papal States; Alfonso's son, Ferrantino, was to advance through the Romagna towards Milan, drive out Ludovico, and occupy the French in Lombardy; meanwhile the Neapolitan fleet was to surprise Genoa and command the northern coast. The plan was good enough in itself, but it ought to have been devised sooner and carried out with promptitude. As it was, the French fleet assembled to defend Genoa, and the French army crossed the Alps to succour Milan, before Naples had struck a blow.

Don Federigo, Alfonso’s brother, finding Genoa too strong to be surprised, began an onslaught on the towns along the Riviera. His first attempt on Porto Venere, which commands the promontory of the Gulf of Spezia, was an entire failure. The inhabitants made a resolute resistance, hurled down stones on their assailants and repulsed them with great loss; so that Federigo was driven to retire to Livorno to repair his fleet. Charles VIII sent Louis Duke of Orleans with some Swiss troops to Genoa, where a French fleet was assembling. Not till September 8 did Federigo again advance. He took Rapallo, a little town about twenty miles from Genoa, where a body of Genoese exiles landed and took up a strong position. The Duke of Orleans attacked them by land and sea and completely routed them, while Federigo’s fleet lay idle at Sestri di Levante. A hundred of the vanquished were left dead on the field, and Rapallo was sacked and pillaged by the Swiss. Italy was amazed at warfare conducted on these bloodthirsty principles. The battles of condottieri had been exercises of strategy, in which prisoners were taken for ransom, and no one was slain unless he had the misfortune to be trampled to death as he lay on the ground. The sack of Rapallo convinced Italy that she had to do with assailants who meant to carry on war in earnest. The immediate result of this engagement was that Federigo returned with his fleet to Naples, leaving the sea open to the French.

On September 8 Charles crossed the Alps and next day arrived at Asti, where he was welcomed by Ludovico Sforza, and received the news of the victory at Rapallo. Charles was young, inexperienced, badly educated, and destitute of military talents. He scarcely knew what were his plans, and he had no money to pay his troops. Ludovico Sforza advised a rapid advance southwards as a means of withdrawing the Neapolitan forces from the Romagna, and furnished money to the King for this purpose. An attack of small-pox rendered Charles unable to move for a while; but early in October he advanced to Pavia and paid a visit to the luckless Duke Gian Galeazzo. The sight of his helplessness, his bodily weakness, and his entreaties that the King would take care of his infant son, moved the compassion of the French; and Ludovico Sforza saw with terror that he was regarded with little favor by the French nobles. He hurried the King from Pavia to Piacenza, whither, on October 21, came the news that Gian Qaleazzo was dead. Every one accused Ludovico of having poisoned his nephew; he hurried to Milan, and by a packed assembly of his own partisans was requested to assume the ducal scepter. He had now gained all that he had schemed for; he was Duke of Milan, and Naples was occupied with France. So soon as France had terrified Naples sufficiently, Ludovico had no further interest in his ally.

The French successes soon found an echo in Rome, and troubled Alexander. The barons of the French party, the Colonna and Savelli, prompted by Ascanio Sforza, gathered their troops and threatened the city. On September 18 Fabrizio Colonna seized Ostia in the name of Cardinal Rovere and hoisted the French flag, while French galleys from Genoa brought reinforcements and anchored off the mouth of the Tiber. This was a serious menace to Rome, and crippled the Neapolitan forces in the Romagna, as they dared not advance against Milan through fear of leaving Rome unprotected. It was not long before Caterina, the widow of Girolamo Riario, declared for France at Imola, and so made the position of the army in the Romagna doubly insecure. Alexander was seriously alarmed, but tried to put on a bold face, and on October 6 issued a proclamation against those who had seized Ostia and demanded its restitution under pain of excommunication. However, he showed his terror by removing Djem into the Castle of S, Angelo for safe keeping, and sent Cardinal Piccolomini as an envoy to Charles VIII, who refused to receive him, saying that he hoped to meet the Pope himself in Rome.

If Alexander VI trembled at the occupation of Ostia, he was still more terrified at the unexpected movements of the French army. The Duke of Calabria had taken up a strong position at Cesena to check the French advance; but Charles by the advice of Ludovico Sforza, who wished that a blow should be struck against his enemy, Florence, chose the more difficult road over the Apennines in preference to the easier road by Bologna. By this means he kept near his fleet.

The state of affairs in Florence was critical, and Piero de' Medici showed none of his father’s sagacity. He forgot Lorenzo’s advice: “Remember that you are nothing more than a Florentine citizen, as I am”. Lorenzo was conscious that he had created a position which was difficult for his successor to fill. He himself had concealed the extent of his power and wore the semblance of an influential citizen; but his marriage with Clarice Orsini, his connexion with the Roman nobles, the dignity of the Cardinalate which he had won for his son Giovanni, and his own far-reaching influence, combined to create in Piero's mind an undue sense of the greatness of the Medicean house; so that he pursued his own policy without identifying Florence with it. The alliance of Florence with France was of long standing and could not easily be set aside. When Piero refused to abandon the cause of Naples, Charles banished the Florentine merchants from his kingdom and thereby struck a blow at the material interests of the city. The old republican party began to revive; the enemies of the Medici held up their heads. Even Piero’s cousins, Giovanni and Lorenzino de' Medici, made their way to Charles at Piacenza and besought him to free Florence from Piero’s yoke; they affirmed that the Florentine people were on the side of France, and that Piero alone was the king’s enemy.

Perhaps the strongest support of the French cause in Florence was to be found in the preaching of Fra Girolamo Savonarola. After Lorenzo’s death Savonarola became more and more convinced that his mission lay in Florence; as the heart was the centre of man, so, he said, was Florence the centre of Italy, and in Florence he resolved to stay. The Convent of S. Marco was subject to the Dominican Congregation of Lombardy; and Savonarola, as its prior, was subordinate to the command of the superiors of the Congregation and so might easily be silenced. Wishing to obtain an independent position, he urged the separation of the Tuscan Congregation from that of Lombardy, and in this he was aided by Piero de' Medici. Piero did not foresee any evil results from Savonarola's preaching, and thought that the existence of a separate Congregation of Tuscany would add to the dignity of Florence; perhaps, too, he was willing to further any scheme which might mark his opposition to Ludovico Sforza. The question was referred to Alexander early in 1493, when the Pope was entirely on the side of Milan; and at first the application of Florence, being opposed by Ludovico Sforza, had little success. But it was warmly favoured by Cardinal Caraffa, who prevailed on Alexander to sign, on May 22, a Bull which accomplished the separation. Savonarola had himself transferred to the Tuscan Congregation, was re­elected Prior of S. Marco, and was afterwards chosen Vicar-General of the Tuscan Congregation. By this means he was subject to no ecclesiastical authority save that of the Pope and the General of the Dominican Order. This free position Savonarola used to work a reform in the discipline of the Convent of S. Marco, so as to bring it back to the original rule of S. Dominic. In this reform he carried the brethren with him, and his convent became the centre of a genuine religious life.

In the Advent season of 1493 Savonarola resumed his preaching in Florence, with increased reputation amongst the people and increased confidence in his own mission. In Lent, 1494, he continued a series of expository lectures on the Book of Genesis which he had begun in 1492. He reached the history of the building of the Ark by Noah, and lingered over it; each plank and nail had its mystic meaning; but the general purpose of his discourses was to urge all men to enter the Ark of the Lord, that they might save themselves from the coming tribulation. Already Florence was disturbed by the expectation of the army of Charles VIII, and Savonarola recognized in the French army the scourge of God which was to afflict but purify the Church.

In September he resumed his preaching. At first he put forth his visions as parables; then he tried to drop the subject, but was haunted by sleepless nights of remorse till he felt that he was bound to speak in obedience to God's commands. More and more he spoke like a prophet, and introduced his utterances with the phrase, “Thus saith the Lord”. On September 21, St. Matthew’s Day, he reached the text, “Behold I bring a flood of waters upon the earth”. His hearers, excited by the news that the French had entered Italy, recognized a miraculous guidance in the preacher’s subject. Amazed they listened to the preacher's denunciations, and Savonarola himself was overpowered with the sense of his own inspiration. The congregation dispersed half dead with terror.

When it was too late, Piero de' Medici perceived the perilous position in which he stood. He had drawn upon his head the animosity of the French King; he had no forces to oppose him, and the Florentines were not united. Still there was an opportunity for a vigorous resistance, as the Florentine frontier was guarded by the strong castles of Sarzanella and Pietra Santa; and the road through Lunigiana was difficult, so that a few resolute men could have held the passes and checked the advance of the French. In the uncertain state of feeling that prevailed, a check to the French army would have ruined its prestige, and the elements of a strong opposition would rapidly have gathered. At first Piero thought of resistance, and sent his brother-in-law, Paolo Orsini, to reinforce Sarzana. But he was alarmed at the sullen discontent of the Florentines, and suddenly resolved to make peace with Charles VIII. He bethought himself of the example of his father, Lorenzo, who in the crisis of his life re-established his position by a bold journey to his chief foe, Ferrante of Naples. Piero determined to imitate his father’s courage, without possessing his father's wisdom. He set out from Florence, and at Pietra Santa asked Charles for a safe-conduct to his presence. When he arrived in the French camp his courage entirely deserted him; he fell on his knees before the King and besought his pardon—he professed himself ready to make amends for his errors. He was asked to recall the Florentine troops from the army in Romagna; to give up to the King the fortresses of Sarzana, Sarzanella, Pietra Santa, Pisa, and Livorno, to be returned when the French were masters of Naples; and finally to lend the King 200,000 ducats. To these conditions Piero at once assented, though he saw before his eyes Sarzanella offering a stubborn resistance. The French in proposing these conditions never expected that they would be accepted, and were amazed at Piero’s ready agreement. Though the treaty was to be signed in Florence, they demanded that the fortresses should be given up at once. Sarzana and Sarzanella were delivered to the French, and the road was now open before them. It is no wonder that the French began to consider their success as miraculous, and looked upon themselves as the instruments of God.

In Florence the news of Piero’s proceedings filled the city with dismay. The Signori summoned the Florentine chief citizens to a consultation. Piero Capponi, a man whose political experience and sterling worth commanded universal esteem, rose and gave expression to the feeling which was in all men's minds. He was no orator, but went straight to the point, and one sentence in his speech became the motto of Florence. “It is time”, he exclaimed, “to have done with the government of children, and to recover our liberty”. The Signori, moved by the popular feeling, agreed to send ambassadors to Charles to undo, if possible, the mischievous results of Piero’s activity. Amongst the five were Piero Capponi and Fra Girolamo Savonarola, who was chosen because he had all the love of the people. They set out on November 6 with instructions which left it to their discretion to modify in any way the conditions which Piero had so basely accepted. Next day they found Charles at Lucca, and followed him to Pisa, where with difficulty they obtained admittance to his presence; the King received them coldly and said that he would arrange the terms of peace in Florence. Savonarola stood forth, and spoke words of prophetic warning: “Know that you are an instrument in the hands of the Lord, who has sent you to heal the woes of Italy and to reform the prostrate Church. But if you do not show yourself just and pitiful, if you do not respect the city of Florence and its people, if you forget the work for which the Lord has sent you, He will choose another in your place, and will pour upon you His wrath. I speak in the name of the Lord”. These warnings harmonized with the prevailing temper of the French, who regarded their success as miraculous, and Charles was impressed by Savonarola’s words, though impressions did not produce any enduring, results on his feeble mind.

When Piero de' Medici heard of the despatch of this embassy he thought that it was time for him to return and watch over affairs at Florence. He returned to the city on November 8, and men believed that he meant to summon the people and compel them by his armed forces to declare him absolute lord of Florence. It was known that Paolo Orsini had advanced with his troops and was close by the Porta di San Gallo; so Florence was full of suspicion, and when Piero next morning proceeded with a large company of attendants to the Palazzo of the Signori he found the door shut, and was told that he alone would be admitted by the postern gate. Piero replied by a gesture of contempt and turned away. One of his partisans among the Signori sent a messenger to recall him. Again Piero stood at the gate; but some of the Signori descended in anger, and after a scuffle took possession of the entrance. After a wordy altercation between the Signori and Piero, the door was shut in his face. These unwonted proceedings caused a crowd to gather rapidly; there were cries to Piero, “Go away and do not disturb the Signori”; hisses were heard, and stones began to fly. Piero stood irresolute with his drawn sword in his hand till his attendants hurried him away. He withdrew to his palace and armed himself; meanwhile his brother Cardinal Giovanni tried to raise the people with the Medicean cry of “Palle, Palle”; no one answered, and Giovanni was obliged to return home. Piero and his brother Giuliano meanwhile made their way to the Porta di San Gallo and tried to rally the people of that suburb, who had always been partisans of the Medici. Here, also, he was unsuccessful, and lost all courage. His terror infected the troops of Paolo Orsini and they began a rapid flight towards Bologna. Cardinal Giovanni, disguised as a Franciscan friar, managed to make his escape from Florence. The three Medici brothers were coldly received at Bologna, and passed on to Venice, the home of Italian exiles. In Florence the Medici palace was sacked by the mob; the Signori set a price on Piero and Giovanni, alive or dead; every trace of the Medicean rule was rapidly abolished, and Florence exulted in the recovery of its liberty.

The overthrow of the Medicean rule in Florence was an event of momentous importance to Italy; yet in the prevailing excitement it attracted little notice. For sixty years Florence had been identified with the Medici house, and they had been years of great prosperity and glory. Cosimo and Lorenzo had made Florence the centre of all that was most eminently Italian, and from Florence had radiated the artistic and literary energy of Italy. Moreover, Lorenzo had established Florence as the mediating power in Italian politics, and had spread her influence in every Italian state. The overthrow of the Medicean house was a dislocation of the state-system of Italy, and the influences which produced it aimed at remodelling the Italian conceptions of life and action. The blundering of Piero was the occasion of the Florentine revolution; but the sentiment which caused it was the expression of the popular desire for a sounder and nobler life. The general uneasiness created a revival of the old republican feeling, and the preaching of Savonarola awakened moral aspirations which the rule of the Medici had lulled to sleep.

The new republic of Florence had soon to face the fact that revolutions do not come singly. The news was brought that, on the same day on which Florence expelled the Medici, Pisa had revolted from the Florentine yoke. The luckless city of Pisa since its conquest by Florence had seen its commerce decay and its glory disappear. With sullen resignation the Pisans submitted to the rule of Florence, but they regarded themselves as slaves rather than subjects. “The Florentines”, says Machiavelli, “were not wise enough to follow the example of the ancient Romans. They forgot that if they wished to hold Pisa they must either associate her with themselves or destroy her”. Pisa, plundered and humiliated, but neither reconciled nor destroyed, only longed for an opportunity to rise against her masters. On the evening of November 9 a deputation of Pisan citizens approached the French king. Their spokesman, who spoke in French, set forth with passionate energy the wrongs of Pisa; he flung himself before Charles and adjured him to remember his lofty calling of liberator of Italy. A sympathetic murmur arose from the French nobles who were present; Charles was moved, and answered that he was content. He spoke without much reflection, “understanding little what the word liberty signified”, says Commines. But the Pisans knew what they meant by liberty; raising the cry “Viva Francia!” they rushed through the city, cast into the Arno the Florentine emblem of the Marzocco, a lion on a marble column, killed the Florentine merchants who were not lucky enough to escape by flight, and seized the fortresses. The Pisan revolution was rapidly accomplished, before Charles had learned what liberty meant; he did not trouble himself about matters further, but left a garrison of 300 Frenchmen and passed on next day to Empoli.

The Florentines were too alarmed for themselves to pay much attention to the revolt of Pisa. They sent ambassadors to Charles to make terms with him; but Charles gave his usual answer that he would arrange matters in the ‘gran villa’, as he called Florence with a mixture of French and Italian. Florence, did her best to receive with fitting honor her dangerous visitor; with ill-concealed anxiety the magistrates went forth to meet a guest whom they feared to be a foe. On the evening of November 17 the French army entered the city, and created mixed feelings of wonder and terror. First came the musicians; then thirty-six cannon drawn by sturdy horses; next the Swiss infantry with short coats of different colors, carrying their halberts of hammered iron. The Gascons followed, small and active, armed with bows and swords, and dressed in white and violet. Then came the archers, followed by 800 men-at-arms, the flower of the French nobles, mounted on powerful horses, attired in rich cloaks of silk with collars of gold. The light cavalry came next; then the archers of the guard dressed in cloth of gold; and, finally, 100 bodyguards preceded the king.

Charles mounted on a war-horse, the gift of Ludovic6 Sforza, advanced beneath a rich baldachino. He was armed, save his helmet, in gilt armor enriched with precious stones; over this he wore a cloak of cloth of gold, and on a white cap he wore his crown. He bore himself in military fashion; carrying his lance in rest as a token that he came as conqueror. But Charles was not a man to adorn a triumph or inspire awe by the majesty of his presence. The liberator of Italy made but an insignificant figure; a little man, with a very large head, aquiline nose, big protruding eyes and huge mouth, he had little slender legs which ended in large and deformed feet. If he disappointed the Florentines when they saw him on horseback, they were still more amazed when they saw his full deformity, as he dismounted at the door of the cathedral, where he went to give thanks.

Now that Charles had entered the ‘gran villa’ the Florentine magistrates pressed for a definite understanding, and Charles considered that he had come as a conqueror; but the Florentines were not so much impressed by the exact position of his lance as to accept that view of the case. They were ready to accept Charles as a friend and ally of the Republic, but not to submit to his dictation. It soon became clear that the views of the king and the Florentine magistrates differed. Charles pressed for the restoration of Piero de' Medici, who would thus be rendered absolutely dependent on France. The Signori summoned the chief citizens to deliberate. All answered that they would never consent to the return of the Medici; anything might be granted rather than that. The city was full of alarm and suspicion; shops were shut and a threatening crowd gathered in the Piazza. The sight of some Italian prisoners led in chains by their Swiss captors caused a riot which threatened to become serious. Houses were barricaded; stones were flung from windows and housetops; and peace was only restored by the intervention of many French nobles and of the magistrates. The French saw that warfare in the streets of Florence would be no easy matter. If the French army in Florence numbered 20,000 men, the Florentines could raise 50,000. Though the French could easily have defeated them in the open field, they might be excused for shrinking from a combat in a labyrinth of narrow lanes. Charles judged it wise to abandon his attitude of treating Florence as a conquered city to which he might dictate terms, and consented to make an alliance. Negotiations proceeded with difficulty; Charles wavered in his demands and the suspicions of the Florentines increased. The king’s request for money seemed to them unreasonable; his proposal to leave a deputy who should be present at all their discussions and whose assent should be necessary to their proceedings was an outrage to Florentine independence. The Florentine commissioners remonstrated; Charles insisted and bade his secretary read the conditions which he would accept. Again the commissioners refused; “Then we will blow our trumpets”, said the king in an angry voice. Piero Capponi seized the paper from the secretary's hand and tore it in pieces, saying, “And we will ring our bells”. It was a rash act on Capponi’s part, and the next moment was decisive for the fate of Florence. But Charles knew and respected Capponi, who had been an ambassador in France; he was a resolute man, whose active mind had driven him to serve Lorenzo de' Medici, but who was now leader of the Republican party in Florence. Charles felt that it was unwise to provoke a breach with Florence; he recalled the departing commissioners; “Ah, Capponi, Capponi”, he said; “you are a bad capon”. The king smiled at his poor joke and the conference was renewed. The daring act of Capponi was the only memory of the French invasion on which Italy could look back with pride. It was the sole display of the old Italian spirit, and its rashness was justified by its success. Capponi had beliefs and spoke out manfully; he and Savonarola are the only prominent Italians of the time of whom this can be said.

The terms of the agreement between Florence and Charles were at length drawn up in twenty-seven articles. Their general purport was that Florence recognized Charles as protector of its liberties, left in his hands till the end of the French expedition against Naples the fortresses already occupied by the French, and undertook to pay him 120,000 ducats; Pisa was to be restored to Florence, which agreed to pardon the Pisans for their revolt; Piero de' Medici and his brothers were to be exiled from Florence, but their goods were to be restored to them. The agreement was substantially the same as had been made by Piero de' Medici. When it had been signed on November 24, the city rang its bells and lit bonfires in token of rejoicing. But the joy of the citizens was short-lived, when they saw that Charles gave no signs of departing. Again they feared that he meditated the sack of the city: again Florence wore a somber aspect of suspicion. Savonarola, true to his prophetic mission, approached the king with words of warning. "The people", he said, "are afflicted by your stay in Florence, and you waste your time. God has called you to renew His Church. Go forth to your high calling lest God visit you with His wrath and choose another instrument in your stead to carry out His designs". Charles received Savonarola with respect and listened to his admonitions. On November 28 the French army left Florence.

Alexander, meanwhile, was in sore perplexity, and appealed to Ascanio Sforza to come to his aid. He wrote to him with his own hand, beseeching him by his old friendship, and by his oath as a Cardinal, to come and put his shoulders as a pillar to support the tottering fabric of the papal power. Ascanio did not refuse to do his office as a good Cardinal, but demanded that, as hostage for his security, Cesare Borgia should go to Marino and be in the custody of the Colonna. When this was done Ascanio went to Rome with Prospero Colonna on November and had a long conference with the Pope, who told his Cardinals afterwards that Ascanio had advised him to make terms with the French king. “But”, he went on, “I am assured of the justice of my cause and would lose my mitre, my lands, and my life, rather than fail Alfonso in his need”. Ascanio, after receiving this answer, rode cheerfully away to Ostia; and men conjectured that the Pope, for all his brave words, had sent him to make overtures to Charles.

While Charles was at Florence a discovery was made which threw a still darker light upon the Pope’s Alexander character, and which was calculated to become a serious weapon against him in the hands of the French king. In his anxiety for his own safety Alexander determined to leave no stone unturned and besought even the Sultan to help him against France. The captivity of Djem and the payment of a yearly allowance to his gaoler had opened up diplomatic intercourse between Rome and Constantinople. Soon after his accession to the pontificate Alexander sent one of his secretaries, Giorgio Buzardo, to demand the customary payment; Buzardo returned in January, 1493, with the report that Bajazet II had refused to pay any more and had dismissed him with empty hands. The French invasion gave Alexander VI a reason for closer communication with the Sultan. In July, 1494, he again sent Buzardo to inform Bajazet that the French king was marching against Rome with the intention of seizing Djem, and using him as a pretext for making war against Constantinople; if he succeeded he would be joined by Spain, England, and Maximilian, and would give the Sultan much trouble. The Pope, therefore, begged Bajazet to pay him the money due, to use his influence to induce Venice to withstand the French, and further to make common cause with himself and Alfonso. Bajazet received Buzardo graciously, paid him the 40,000 ducats which the Pope demanded, and sent him back accompanied by an envoy of his own, who should confer further with the Pope. Unfortunately for Alexander Buzardo fell into the hands of Giovanni della Rovere, brother of the Cardinal, at Sinigaglia, on his homeward journey. The 40,000 ducats were taken from him, and what was still more serious, the Pope’s instructions and the Sultan’s letters in reply were discovered and were forwarded at once to Cardinal Rovere at Florence. The Pope's instructions to Buzardo were sufficiently startling; but the Sultan's answer was still more amazing. It was contained in four letters written in Turkish characters and one written in Latin. The Turkish documents praised Buzardo, commended to the Pope the Turkish envoy, and, strangely enough, asked him to confer the Cardinalate on Niccolò Cibo, Archbishop of Arles, whom Bajazet II had known in the days of Innocent VIII. The Latin letter suggested to Alexander a short way of dealing with Djem : let the Pope put him to death and so defeat the plans of the French king: if the Pope would send his dead body to Constantinople, Bajazet would give in exchange for it 300,000 ducats, “wherewith your highness may buy some dominions for your children”. This monstrous proposal was made, the Sultan says, after full deliberation with the Pope's envoy Buzardo. It cannot, therefore, be dismissed as the wild dream of an oriental who did not know the insult which such a proposition contained. It is not surprising that Cardinal Rovere thought the contents of these letters to be “a stupendous matter, fraught with danger to Christendom”. He had the Turkish documents translated, and put copies of them into the hands of the chief counselors of the French king.

It was but natural that Alexander in later years should deny these dealings with the Sultan, and declare that they were inventions of his enemy, Giovanni della Rovere. He could not avoid the knowledge that his conduct had seriously shocked even the low sentiment of Europe, and he could not defend it. But it was not unnatural for a man like Alexander to seek for help where he could find it, and to recognize community of interest as the most binding tie. Venice and Naples had set the example of negotiating with the Turk; and Alexander was rather an Italian prince than the head of Christendom. He was free from prejudice and was not restrained by the traditions of his office. He and his family treated Djem with kindness. The Turkish prince rode out in public with the Pope, going in front of the cross which was carried in the procession. The Duke of Gandia was seen in Turkish attire riding by the side of Djem; he even took the Turkish prince into the Lateran Church and showed him its curiosities. There was no intolerance about the court of Alexander, and his tolerant spirit easily extended itself into politics. If the Emperor was unwilling or unable to come to his aid, it seemed natural to apply to the Sultan. When he disavowed the fact he probably disavowed the extreme inferences which his enemies drew from it. Alexander was eminently versatile and light-hearted; he probably wondered why people attached so much importance to a trifle; and after a little while Europe took his view of the matter.

At the time, however, the possession of these documents enabled the Pope's enemies to produce an impression on the mind of Charles VIII. On November 22, probably the very day on which the news of the capture of the Pope’s envoy reached Florence, Charles issued a general statement of his intentions. In high-sounding language he announced his object to be war against the Turk and the restoration of Christendom: to carry out this design more surely he purposed first to assert his hereditary claim to the kingdom of Naples; he required Alexander to give him safe passage through the lands of the Church; if this were refused the blame of untoward consequences would rest on those who through perfidy and iniquity attempted to hinder this pious plan. He protested beforehand that he would lay all injuries which he might suffer before the universal Church and the princes of Europe, whom he purposed to summon for the accomplishment of his crusading scheme. It was a warning to Alexander that he might be impeached before a General Council as a traitor to the interests of Europe if he persisted in his opposition to the French king.

After this declaration the French army rapidly advanced, and on December 2 was at Siena. Alexander still hoped to defend the papal frontier, and sent troops to Viterbo, where they were refused admittance. He protested to the German ambassador at Rome and called the Emperor to his aid; he ordered the Romans to defend their city; he provisioned the Castle of S. Angelo, which shortly before had been connected by a covered corridor with the Vatican. Above all, he revoked his troops to Rome; now that Florence was lost, the army in the Romagna served no useful purpose. On December 9 the Duke of Calabria, at the head of 5000 infantry and 1500 cavalry, entered Rome.

Yet the Pope’s position was hopelessly insecure. Ostia was open to the French; there was a strong party in their favor among the Cardinals; the Colonna were ready to make common cause with them. Encouraged by the Neapolitan troops, Alexander determined to strike terror into his foes. On the evening of December 9 he ordered four of the Cardinals to be arrested as they left a Consistory. Ascanio Sforza, who had just returned to Rome, and Sanseverino were confined in the Vatican; Prospero Colonna and Estouteville were shut up in the Castle of S. Angelo.

This resolute attitude of the Pope did not long continue. Alexander was like a drowning man catching at a straw. He was encouraged for a moment by the Neapolitan forces, though those forces were quite inadequate to offer any real resistance to the French. On December 10 he told the French envoys that he would not give the king passage through his territories. On the same day Charles VIII entered Viterbo, and everywhere the towns opened their gates to him. The Pope was sorely perplexed, and on December 14 used the opportunity of Ascanio Sforza’s presence at mass to open up communications with his prisoner. “During the whole mass”, says Burchard, “the Pope talked with him, even after the elevation of the holy sacrament; when it was time for standing he sat, that he might talk more conveniently”. The colloquy with Ascanio did not reassure him, but he still hoped to hold out. He sent for some of the chief Germans resident in Rome and besought them to form a troop of their compatriots for the defence of the city. After some consultation amongst themselves, they answered that they were under the commands of the city’s magistrates and could not renounce their proper officers. The Pope’s allies saw that resistance was hopeless. On December 15 Charles was at Nepi, and Virginio Orsini sent to offer him admission to his castles, so that on December 19 Charles' headquarters were in the Orsini castle of Bracciano. This defection of the Orsini was the last blow to the hopes of the Pope and of Naples alike; Virginio Orsini was Constable of Naples, was connected by marriage with the Neapolitan king, and his family had an hereditary alliance with the Aragonese house.

Alexander was now seriously alarmed. He released his captive Cardinals and sent his possessions into the Castle of S. Angelo, while his more precious goods were packed in readiness for flight; horses stood always ready for his departure. But flight meant almost certain ruin. If the French king came to Rome he needed a responsible ruler with whom he could treats. If Alexander were to flee he must for his own security take with him all his Cardinals; but already many had openly joined Charles; probably there were few who would follow the Pope of their own free will. There would certainly gather round the French king a large majority of the College, who would be willing to declare Alexander deposed and proceed to a new election. Alexander had not the moral character which alone enables a man to act resolutely in a crisis. He prepared to retreat from his position, and sent envoys to Charles at Bracciano. They besought the French king to remember his ancestors and do no hurt to Rome; the Pope had wished him to submit his claims on Naples to arbitration; since, however, he had seen fit to proceed by arms, let him choose another road and not disturb the Pope; if he wished to visit the holy places of Rome let him come without his troops. Finally, the Pope exhorted him to pay no heed to his detractors, who were restless and unquiet men whom no kindness could satisfy. This was not a happy stroke of papal diplomacy, as it awakened the wrath of Cardinals Rovere, Sforza, Perraud, Savelli, and Sanseverino, who were with Charles. The envoys, by their advice, were dismissed with scanty courtesy; and the French advanced, uncertain whether they were to enter Rome as friends or foes. On December 23 Cardinal Perraud wrote to the Germans in Rome that their lives and goods would be respected in case of an attack on the city. At last, on December 24, the Pope assembled a Consistory and announced his intention of making terms with Charles. He sent his nephew, the Cardinal of Monreale, to the French camp at Bracciano. Charles demanded that the Pope should at least declare himself neutral, and give free passage to the French troops; in return he promised a safe-conduct to the Duke of Calabria, and professed his reverence for the Pope as the head of Christendom. Still Alexander wavered. Next day he made an agreement with the Duke of Calabria that he might be received in Naples in case of need; he stipulated that he should have possession of Gaeta and receive a yearly allowance during his stay; he celebrated mass in his chapel and gave his benediction to the Duke, saying, “God will help us”. On December 31 the Neapolitan troops retired from Rome, and Alexander sent Burchard, his Master of the Ceremonies, to meet Charles. Burchard was desirous of instructing Charles in matters of ceremonial ; but the king answered that he meant to enter Rome without pomp. He kept Burchard by his side, and asked him many questions about the Pope's personal character and about Cesare Borgia; unfortunately Burchard has not told us his answers.

The same evening the French army entered Rome by the Porta del Poplo. From three o'clock till nine he procession lasted before the astonished eyes of the Romans, and the wavering light of torches added to the terrible aspect of the soldiers. As on entering Florence, Charles was clad in armor and bore his lance by his side. With him were the Cardinals della Rovere, Sforza, Savelli, and Colonna, who mixed strangely with the martial throng. The French artillery awakened the greatest wonder amongst the Romans, who had never seen such guns before. Amid cries of ‘Francia’, ‘Colonna’, and ‘Vincula’, the king moved along the Corso to the Palazzo of S. Marco, where he took up his abode. Cannon were posted round the Palazzo, and two thousand men were posted in the Campo dei Fiori, where they kept watch all night.

Only the Tiber separated the king from the Pope, and Alexander was ill at ease. Centuries had passed since a king with a hostile army had entered the walls of Rome, and a more sensitive mind than that of Alexander would have deeply felt his humiliating position. But Alexander had no thought of the dignity of his office: he cared only for his personal safety. Really the French king could ill afford to provoke the determined hostility of the Pope, as complications with the head of Christendom would have given an opportunity for the interference of Germany and Spain, which were watching with ill-concealed jealousy the astounding successes of France. Charles’ counselors were eager for the plunder of Naples, and wished to accomplish rapidly the main object of their expedition. His special favorite Briçonnet, Bishop of S. Malo, longed for the dignity of the Cardinalate, which would be endangered by an open breach with the Pope. On the other hand, Cardinals Rovere and Sforza urged Charles to call the Pope to account, to summon a Council and depose him as simoniacally elected. Ascanio Sforza had been the chief agent in this election, and had earned his share of the money spent in simony; but this did not restrain him from urging the charge against Alexander when it suited his own purposes. Charles may be pardoned if he doubted his own fitness to superintend the work of reforming the Church. He had neither the intellectual nor the moral qualities for such a task. Feeble in mind, contemptible in appearance, sunk in profligacy, and incapable of serious purpose, he was wise in not undertaking a labor far beyond his strength. Alexander might be unfit to be Pope, but Charles was equally unfit to say so. Charles showed some political wisdom when he said that he wished for a reformation of the Church, but not the deposition of the Pope.

Charles, however, was in Rome, and Alexander was driven to come to terms. Quarrels between the French soldiers and the Roman citizens were inevitable. Frenchmen were murdered by night, and their comrades retaliated by plunder. The house of Vanozza, the mother of Alexander’s children, was sacked: the Bank was pillaged, and it required all the efforts of Cardinal Colonna to prevent graver disorders. On January 2 Alexander sent several of his Cardinals, amongst them Cesare Borgia, Carvajal, and Raffaelle Riario, to the king, who received them coldly. They addressed him in a speech of much cleverness, which took occasion to refute the charges brought against the Pope, and entreated Charles to follow the example of his predecessors, Pepin and Charles the Great, They regretted that he had shown ill-will towards the Pope, who was only laboring for the peace of Christendom. “What”, they proceeded significantly, “do you think that other Christian princes will say if it be bruited abroad that you besiege the Pope and claim to judge him, to whom God has committed the judgment of all men?”. The Pope had urged that the French claim to Naples should be decided by arbitration, not by arms, because he feared lest Alfonso in his fear might call the Turk to his aid and so bring the Infidels into Italy. They retorted with crushing logic on the rebellious Cardinals: “Alexander VI has his detractors; but he knows that Jesus was accused as a wine-bibber and a friend of publicans and sinners. Let slanderers tell what tales they will, Alexander VI is holier, or at least as holy, as he was at the time of his election. He did not impose on his electors by hypocrisy, or win their good-will by any new pretence. For thirty-seven years he approved himself in high office, so that his doings and sayings were not hid from them. The very men who now withdraw their votes were the chief in procuring his election”. The argument was true and cogent. Alexander was no hypocrite; his electors had been rewarded for their trouble, and had no just ground for complaining of the man whom they had chosen.

This speech produced some effect, as Alexander had prepared the way by bribes judiciously administered to the French counselors of the king. The Italians did not sympathize with the move of Alexander’s enemies to use against him the irregularities of his private life. In their opinion it was a low trick; it was an attempt to throw dust in the eyes of the ignorant Frenchmen and apply to the Pope a standard of holiness which had long ago been pronounced impossible in Italy. “The French”, says Sigismondo de' Conti, “and those who dwell in the remoter parts of Christendom, think that the Pope is not made like other men, but is like one sent down from heaven, who cannot be moved by human feelings and has not, as S. Paul says, a law in his members contrary to the law in his mind”. Sigismondo pronounces the charges against the Pope to be trifling, and the French learned to take the Italian view of moral considerations. One of the results of the French invasion of Italy was that the nations beyond the Alps lost their superstitious respect for the Pope's sanctity. The counselors of Charles soon convinced him that Alexander's personal character had nothing to do with his own political ends.

So Charles dismissed his reforming schemes, and answered that he was ready to render obedience to the Pope and enter into strait alliance with him on three conditions: that the Castle of S. Angelo be occupied by a French garrison; that Cesare Borgia accompany the French army to Naples as Legate; and that Prince Djem be handed over to the king. Alexander objected strongly to these conditions, and Charles gave him six days for consideration. On January 5 so many French nobles came to kiss the Pope’s foot and receive his benediction, that Alexander fainted. After deliberating with his Cardinals he answered the French king that he could not consent to give up the Castle of S. Angelo for fear of Cardinal Rovere, who would occupy it and be master of Rome; if it were besieged he would expose on its walls the holiest relics. After sending this answer Alexander was seized with terror, and fled into the Castle of S. Angelo accompanied by six Cardinals. A piece of the wall of the castle had fallen on the day when Charles entered Rome. It was repaired hastily and fell again. Men looked on this as an evil omen; Alexander regarded it as a sign that the castle was not a secure refuge. Twice the French artillery was pointed against the walls; twice it was withdrawn. At last, on January 11, a compromise was made, and terms of peace were arranged. The Pope agreed to give up to the king Cività Vecchia, to appoint governors whom the king chose in the cities of the Patrimony, to receive into his favor the Cardinals and nobles who had favored the French cause, to deliver up Prince Djem, and send Cardinal Cesare Borgia as legate with the French army for four months. Charles withdraw his demand for the Castle of S. Angelo.

When peace had thus been made, Charles ventured for the first time to traverse the streets of Rome and visit its churches and antiquities. On January 15 the treaty was signed by the king, and Rome rejoiced at being free from danger. Next day Charles took up his abode in the Vatican, and a meeting between him and the Pope was arranged. Charles was walking in the Vatican garden when Alexander issued from the corridor which led to the Castle of S. Angelo. Twice the king, uncovering his head, bowed to the Pope; but Alexander professed not to see him. On the third genuflexion Alexander also uncovered his head, and taking the king's hand prevented him from kissing his feet. Then he walked by his side and expressed his joy at this meeting. They passed together into the hall of the Consistory, where the king set forth his reverence for the Pope, and asked as a favor the elevation of the bishop of S. Malo to the Cardinalate. Alexander assented, and led the way to the room where the creation of Cardinals was declared. On the way he fainted; Burchard regarded it as a pretence that he might demand the attentions of the king. When he recovered he nominated Briçonnet a Cardinal, conferred on him the insignia of his dignity, and assigned him rooms in the Vatican. Alexander had now recovered his self-possession. So long as he had a serious political problem to solve, he was helpless and allowed matters to drift; now that it was a question of managing men, his subtlety and astuteness returned. He was ready to make the most of Charles, and lived with him on terms of the most complete friendliness. The Cardinals who had joined the party of Charles saw themselves entirely abandoned. Ascanio Sforza and Lunate fled from Rome; Prospero Colonna, Savelli, and Perraud reconciled themselves with the Pope. Perraud afterwards boasted that he had spoken his mind to Alexander and had reproved him for his evil life, his simony, and his dealings with the Turk. Probably the loquacious Cardinal told his friends what was in his mind rather than on his tongue. Cardinal Rovere alone remained steadfast in his hostility, and preferred to accompany Charles rather than remain in Rome.

On January 19 Alexander had the satisfaction of receiving from Charles the obedience of France. The conqueror of Italy entered the capital of the Pope who opposed him, and formally recognized his authority without obtaining a withdrawal of his opposition. It is true that he showed some signs of using pressure, and kept the Consistory waiting for an hour before he appeared. Then his orator demanded the investiture of Naples, which Alexander refused, saying that he could not prejudice the rights of another without due deliberation with the Cardinals; he vaguely added that he wished in all things to please his dear son, the King of France. If Charles’ advisers wished to overawe the Pope, the king threw away the opportunity; he rose at once and said in French, “Holy Father, I have come to do obedience and reverence in the same way as my predecessors”. During the ceremonial speeches which followed, the French who were present broke out into such loud expressions of disgust that the Cardinals crowded round the Pope's throne for protection. If Alexander showed his incapacity before Charles entered Rome, Charles showed still greater want of capacity when he was master of the situation. It might be unwise to attempt the Pope's overthrow; but to offer him the obedience of France was to strengthen the position of an enemy who had only been driven by superior force to dissemble his hostility for the moment.

A few more days were spent by Charles in Rome, and were largely given to ecclesiastical ceremonial, till at last Alexander saw with relief that Charles prepared to take his departure. Prince Djem was handed over to him and was received with courtesy and marks of respect. The Pope bestowed pardons on the numerous nobles who thronged to ask for them, and Cesare Borgia presented the king with six magnificent horses. Then, on January 28, Charles, with Djem on his left and Cesare Borgia on his right, rode out of Rome, in full confidence that he had won the lasting friendship of the Pope. But this belief was soon dispelled; on the evening of January 30, Cardinal Cesare, disguised as a groom, fled from the French quarters at Velletri. He rode rapidly to Rome and took refuge in the house of a papal official. The Roman magistrates came trembling to the Pope, and begged him to order Cesare’s departure, lest the king return to take vengeance. Cesare was safely conveyed to Spoleto, and Alexander was well contented to know that Charles no longer had in his power a hostage for his fidelity. When Charles sent to demand Cesare’s return, the Pope declared that he knew nothing of his flight nor of his hiding-place. Charles saw, when it was too late, that he had been the Pope's dupe.

The reason of Cesare’s bold step is not difficult to find. On the day of his flight two Spanish ambassadors presented themselves before Charles at Velletri, and demanded that he should desist from his attempt against Naples. Ferdinand of Spain considered that he had done enough to deserve the grant of Roussillon; he bethought himself of his old alliance with Naples, and his envoys urged that if Naples did not belong to Alfonso II, it belonged to Ferdinand of Aragon as the legitimate heir of Alfonso I. They proposed that the question be referred to the arbitration of the Pope; Charles answered, “Alexander VI is a Spaniard”, and dismissed them. Still he received an unpleasant intimation of the jealousy which his success was causing. Cesare Borgia saw that France had dangerous enemies, and that the Papacy was still a useful centre round which they might rally. Feeling satisfied that Charles would hesitate to return to Rome in search of new hostages, he judged that the time had come for flight.

Naples, however, itself offered no opposition to the French advance. Alfonso II was as cowardly as he was cruel, and saw expressed in the faces of his subjects the hatred which his conduct had inspired; men said that he was haunted at nights by the ghosts of the barons whom he had treacherously put to death. He had not the courage to defend himself, and judged that the sole chance of saving his dynasty was to abdicate in favor of his innocent son Ferrantino. On January 23 he resigned his crown and prepared to flee to Sicily. The weather was too stormy to set sail at once and he spent some days in terror, crying out that he heard the French advancing, that the very trees and stones cried ‘France’; at last he escaped to Sicily, and took refuge in the Olivetan monastery of Mazara.

Ferrante II was crowned amidst ominous silence from the crowd. He did what he could to win the affections of his subjects. He implored help from Ludovico Sforza, even from the Sultan Bajazet; then he set out for the camp at San Germano, resolved to merit the glory of a worthy prince. But the news that the French had stormed Monte San Giovanni and massacred all its inhabitants filled the Neapolitan army with terror, so that it hastily abandoned the strong position of San Germano, which was the key to Naples, and fell back on Capua. Ferrante II hastened to Naples to gather reinforcements; during his absence his general, Trivulzio, made terms with Charles and Capua was opened to the French. Naples rose in tumultuous confusion and Ferrante bade his subjects a dignified farewell. “Fortune has declared against me, and I withdraw. I absolve you from your homage and counsel you by obedience to mitigate the natural pride of the French. If their barbarity awaken your hatred and make you wish for my return, I will be ready at your call to risk my life in your service. If you are satisfied with their rule I will never disturb the peace of the realm. I have wronged no man; the sins of my fathers, not my own, are visited on my head”. On February 21 he sailed for Ischla, and next day Charles entered Naples amidst the joyous greetings of the people, who had already sent to tell him that they awaited his coming as did the Jews that of the Messiah. Only the two castles of Naples held out for Ferrante, and they were reduced to submission on March 20.

The success of Charles was marvelous. The states of Italy had fallen before him at the first touch. They had no root of patriotism or national sentiment; each lived for itself and for the immediate present, and the expediency of the moment was the sole element in each man’s calculations. Those who had been most strongly attached to the House of Aragon in Naples, and who owed everything to its favor, were the first to prostrate themselves before the victorious King of France. A saying was put into the mouth of Alexander that “the French came into Italy with wooden spurs, carrying in their hands chalk to mark their billets”. Indeed, they scarcely needed any other appliances, for where they came to conquer they were welcomed as friends. It is no wonder that Charles struck a medal in Naples with the inscription Missus a Deo, “sent by God”.

Now that Charles was master of Naples it was in his power to carry out his great design of warring against the Turk. Bajazet II was a feeble ruler; Commines was of opinion that he might have been dispossessed of his throne as easily as Alfonso of Naples, since the Greeks were ready to rebel at the first news of the French advance. But Charles does not seem to have been much more in earnest about a crusade than those who had professed their zeal in previous days, and such intentions as he had were dispelled by the death of Prince Djem on February 25. On, the journey Djem caught a cold which developed into bronchitis, under which he sank. Men said that the Pope had poisoned him before he left Rome; but we must doubt the operation of a poison which worked so slowly as to produce death only after a month’s interval. Yet this version of the cause of Djem’s death was believed on all sides by Alexander's contemporaries, who clearly thought that the Pope would shrink from no crime which might bring him advantage. Alexander throughout his whole career had to pay the penalty for the known disorders of his life, and no accusation against him was incredible. However, the death of Djem seems to have arisen from natural causes. It was not singular that one who had led for many years a sedentary life should succumb before a winter journey, during which his regular habits of life were disregarded. Alexander may fairly be acquitted of the charge of poisoning Djem.

Djem’s death and the delights of Naples dispelled the crusading schemes of Charles. His vanity was in fully satisfied by his triumphal procession through Italy, and his inglorious campaign required its meed of enjoyment. Charles was contented to compare himself with Charles the Great without incurring any further risks. The French nobles were bent only on apportioning among themselves the spoils of the Neapolitan kingdom. There was no statesman to point out that the commanding position which Charles assumed could only be maintained by some further exploit which would silence jealousy. Charles revelled in the delights of the Neapolitan gardens, which seemed to him “a terrestrial paradise save for the absence of Adam and Eve”. His troops followed his example in their way, and indulged in the strong cheap wine of Naples till their drunken licentiousness filled the Neapolitans with hatred and terror. Commines admits that the French did not regard the Italians as men; they had had only too much justification for their contempt and did not scruple to show it. The offices of the state were all given to needy Frenchmen, and though Charles promised large remissions of taxation, the luxury of his court prevented his promises being carried into effect. The Neapolitans soon regretted their faithlessness to Ferrante II.

Meanwhile all the powers of Europe felt themselves menaced by this accession of power to France. Ferdinand of Spain feared for Sicily; Maximilian was alarmed at the preponderance which France had won in Europe; Ludovico Sforza saw that by opening Italy to France he had taken a dangerous step. The Duke of Orleans was the descendant of Valentina Visconti, the last representative of the Visconti line, and could produce as good a title to Milan as Charles had urged successfully on Naples. Venice and the Pope were both alarmed. There were many negotiations amongst these powers during the progress of the French invasion; the conquest of Naples led to decisive steps. On March 31 a league was concluded at Venice between Maximilian, Ferdinand, Ludovico Sforza, the Pope, and Venice. Its ostensible objects were, war against the Turks, the preservation of peace in Italy, and the mutual defence of the territories of the allies; its real object was the expulsion of the French from Naples.

Prudence dictated to Charles a speedy departure from Naples before his enemies had time to collect their forces; but vanity made him desirous of a formal coronation, and he wasted time in fruitless negotiations with the Pope. He still hoped by fair-promises to detach Alexander from the League, and obtain from him the investiture of the Neapolitan kingdom. But Alexander was promised help from Venice and refused the king's proposals. On May 12 Charles was crowned by the Archbishop of Naples, and on May 20 set out on his return to France. Alexander fled before his coming and took refuge in Orvieto; as Charles advanced and invited him to a conference, he removed for greater safety to Perugia.

Everywhere as Charles returned he was confronted by complications which his previous want of foresight had created. When he arrived at Poggibonsi he had to choose between the roads through Florence or through Pisa. He had given the Pisans freedom from Florence; he had promised the Florentines to restore Pisa to their rule; so that both regarded him with suspicion. Florence sent envoys to Poggibonsi, amongst whom was Savonarola. Again Charles listened to the words of the prophet: “You have provoked the anger of the Lord because you have not kept faith with Florence, and have abandoned the reform of the Church, for which purpose you were sent”. Charles showed his usual inconsistency; he promised at first to restore Pisa to Florence, but afterwards said that his engagement to Pisa was made before that with Florence. Then he pursued his road to Pisa, where the citizens received him with joy, and next day with lamentable cries besought him not to hand them over to Florence. As usual he answered that he would do what they wished. Charles was incapable of forming any policy or deciding any question.

The French were not to leave Italy so easily as they entered it. The troops of the League were called into the field by Ludovico Sforza, who had been the chief agent in summoning the French into Italy, and was now the most eager to drive them from it. Louis Duke of Orleans had through sickness been left behind at Asti, where a small force was posted to keep open communications with France. The neighbourhood of Louis disquieted Ludovico. The Duke of Orleans claimed the title of Duke of Milan; Ludovico felt that his subjects were discontented with his rule, and feared that the presence of Louis might give the opportunity for a rising against himself. No sooner was the League concluded than he summoned the Duke of Orleans to evacuate Asti, and proceeded to gather troops. Contrary to the orders of Charles, Orleans obtained succours from France and resolved to act on the offensive. On June 13 he seized Novara, and this act of aggression was enough to absolve the Italian powers from their promises of neutrality to Charles. Venice gathered an army under the command of Francesco Gonzaga, Marquis of Mantua. Novara was besieged, and Gonzaga prepared to intercept Charles near Fornovo on the little river Taro.

The battle was fought on July 5, a battle big with the destinies of Italy. An invader had broken into her cities and had disturbed her peace. Internal dissensions had favored him, and men had not seen at first the danger his presence brought. But now Italy had recovered from her first stupor. She was united in a way that she had not been for centuries. It was too late to retrieve the past; but she might so chastise the rash intruder as to make his fate a warning for the future. Italian independence had been threatened of old, but had been nobly vindicated. Fornovo might be in the annals of Italy as glorious a memory as Legnano.

The army of the League had every advantage. It was twice as numerous as the French, which had been weakened by leaving garrisons in Naples and elsewhere. It was fresh and had plenty of provisions, while the French were wearied with a laborious march and were suffering from hunger. It had the choice of position, while the French emerging from the gorge amongst the mountains had perforce to cross the Taro and make their way towards Piacenza. Charles judged it wiser not to fight a battle, but to pursue his route. For this purpose he exposed his flank to the enemy and marched along the skirts of the mountains. Francesco Gonzaga endeavored to intercept him. There was some confused fighting and much bloodshed. But some of Gonzaga’s soldiers fell to plundering; he himself charged at the head of a division and left no orders for his reserves, who stood idly by their tents, passive spectators of the fight. Charles pursued his way, leaving much booty in the enemy’s hands. The Italians rejoiced over their victory; but the French had better reason for rejoicing. The battle of Fornovo displayed the military incapacity of Italy.

When Charles reached Asti he had to consider if he intended to pursue the war in Lombardy, where the Duke of Orleans was still besieged in Novara. Alexander, who had recovered from his fright and returned to Rome on June 27, issued on August 5 a papal admonition to Charles, bidding him cross the Alps and no longer disturb the peace of Italy; in case of disobedience he summoned the king to Rome to show cause why he should not be excommunicated. Even Charles had wit enough to reply: “I wonder that the Pope is so desirous to see me at Rome, as he did not wait for me when I was there last. I hope to obey him by opening the road again, and must beg him to wait a little while”. At first Charles thought of bringing Swiss soldiers and relieving Novara. But Ludovico Sforza was anxious to be rid of the French, and offered to make terms with the king. Novara was restored to him, and he undertook to give free passage through his territories to the French troops when they marched to Naples. Venice, aggrieved at this desertion of the League, regarded Ludovico as a traitor, and his own subjects joined in the same opinion. Ludovico, who had been the cause of the French invasion, was the man who most rejoiced to see the French safely out of Italy; like most clever schemers he had rid himself of one danger only to incur another.

Before he had returned to France Charles had lost Naples. Ferrante returned on July 7, aided by Spanish troops from Sicily under the command of Gonzalvo de Cordova. The Neapolitans rose against the French, and welcomed back their former king with frantic joy. Place after place was lost to the French, who still gallantly defended themselves. Charles talked of sending reinforcements and of making another expedition, but while he talked his troops in Calabria wasted away. In November, 1496, the last remnants of the French occupation had disappeared.

There is something fantastic, almost grotesque, in this French invasion of Italy. The rashness of the attempt, its instantaneous success, and its absence of result are equally amazing. Still more amazing is it to find in the contemporary records of Italy no sense of the importance of the events that were happening. The Italian had no sense of national unity; he regarded the French as 'barbarians', but felt no shame that the barbarians should dispose of Italy at their pleasure. He reckoned them to be only a temporary factor in the changing combinations of political parties to which he had been so long accustomed. The idea of national honor, the dread of national danger, never occurred to his mind. Even the most sincere man amongst the Italians of the time, Girolamo Savonarola, regarded the French king as the scourge of God who was to chastise and purify the Church. Italy, enervated by prosperity, corrupted by over-rapid mental enfranchisement, was limited by narrow conceptions of self-interest. The papal restoration had succeeded in checking the adventurous schemes of an Italian kingdom which had floated before the eyes of Giovanni Visconti, of Ladislas of Naples, of the condottiere Braccio. It had made possible the artificial balance of Italian states which had given Italy half a century of luxurious enjoyment and now left it helpless when danger was at hand. Never was a time when resoluteness was more required, and the only Italian capable of political courage was Giuliano della Rovere, whom passionate resentment carried into the camp of France.

Yet the Italian expedition of Charles was a turning-point of the intellectual and political life of Europe. It revealed at once the glory and the helplessness of Italy. The peoples of the North had just reached the point of intellectual development when they could understand, if they were incapable of creating, the beauties and the refinement of Italian life and thought. The earthly paradise once discovered was never again free from the foot of the invader. Charles pointed out the splendid prey which lay before the strongest, and Italy became the battlefield of the newly-organized nations of Europe. From the beginning she enthralled her captors. The spoils of Naples were carried back to France, where Charles VIII began to remodel the Castle of Amboise. The French nobles, weary with their gloomy castles, which since the development of artillery had ceased to be impregnable, followed the fashion of Italy and changed their castles into luxurious country houses. The printing press gave a ready means for the multiplication of books. French literature, which was beginning to wear a courtly dress under Clement Marot, received a new impulse from Italy. Charles carried beyond the Alps a vague yet powerful fragrance of the spirit of the Italian Renaissance. The result was not entirely good. If French manners had been rude before, they rapidly became dissolute. The sojourn of the French in Naples called into existence a plague which went by the name of 'the French evil,' the product of the physical and moral uncleanness of the age.

In another way, also, Italy spread her influence over Europe. The League which was formed against Charles was an extension into European politics of the principles which had been developed in Italy. A deliberate check was planned against French aggrandizement, and the artificial balance which prevailed in Italian politics was introduced into a larger sphere. Round Italy gathered dynastic jealousies, which were strongly interwoven with national aspirations, and in the struggles for the possession of Italy a new system of European states slowly emerged.

CHAPTER VIII.

ALEXANDER VI AND FRA. GIROLAMO SAVONAROLA

1495—1498

The end of the year 1495 was most disastrous for the city of Rome. The waters of the Tiber rose suddenly to a height unknown before, and inflicted irreparable damage. The flood almost reached the top of the arches of the Ponti di Sisto. The waters spread through the streets, drowned many, ruined property, and undermined houses. The churches and public buildings especially suffered; tombs and altars were swept away, mosaic pavements were destroyed, and many precious memorials of the early Renaissance art were obliterated. The loss was estimated at 300,000 ducats, and it was computed that Rome would not recover from the damage for a quarter of a century.

Alexander was occupied at home by attempting to repair the ravages of this terrible inundation. But he was equally in earnest in his desire to strengthen the League against France, which was joined by Henry VII of England in the end of July. Though the League was imposing in appearance, Alexander found, it no easy matter to stir it to take any definite action. Negotiations were carried on with Maximilian to discuss the details of a joint expedition; and the Pope's legate made the modest request that all cities and castles taken by the French in the Neapolitan kingdom should be placed in the Pope's hands as supreme lord. There was much talk about the division of spoil, much flattering of his imperial majesty, and a sincere desire that Maximilian would do the bidding of Italy against the French king. But Germany felt no interest in Maximilian's imperial policy, and the Italian members of the League were not prepared for any great undertaking.

In truth Italy had been profoundly shaken by the French invasion, and her statesmen had not recovered their nerve. They felt that ruin had been terribly near; they dimly saw their individual mistakes, but each threw the greater part of the blame on his neighbor. Ludovico Sforza said to the Venetian Foscari: “I confess that I have done great mischief to Italy, but I did it to keep myself in my place, and I did it against my will. The fault lay with King Ferrante, and also in some degree with Venice, because it would not interpose. But afterwards, have you not seen my continuous efforts for the freedom of Italy? Rest assured that if I had delayed any longer in making the peace of Novara, Italy would have been undone, for our affairs were in the most desperate condition”. Ludovico was driven to admit his fault, but had no better policy for the future than a franker recognition by every one of the instability of Italian politics. Italy was to be protected by a cautious protection of her fragility, not by an endeavor to establish a sounder foundation. So the allies shrank from any definite action. The French were gone for the present, and it was better to wait. When Venice heard of continued reverses of the French in Naples she secretly tried to dissuade Maximilian from his expedition.

However, if something was to be done, there was one object which seemed to be within the power of the League.

The sole Italian state which still maintained its alliance with France was Florence. The French invasion had brought to Florence the expulsion of the Medici and the loss of Pisa. The Florentines were bent on preventing a Medicean restoration and on recovering Pisa, and they thought that these objects could best be obtained by an alliance with France. The aim of the League was a pacification of Italy against France; and this principle, as applied to Florence, would have meant the restoration of the Medici and the recognition of the independence of Pisa. Florence on political grounds was not prepared to make such a sacrifice to secure the unity of Italy. The preaching of Savonarola had led a large number of her citizens to regard Charles as the scourge of God who should purify the Church; and Florentine vanity was gratified by the thought that she was to serve as a model to the regenerate world. The influence of Savonarola was a strange mixture of good and evil. It awakened a higher sense of Christian zeal and of moral effort; but it also rested on a definite scheme of politics, according to which Charles was a heaven-sent deliverer, and the rights which Florence recognized as inherent in her own citizens were denied to the citizens of Pisa. As a moral and religious teacher Savonarola deserves all praise; as a politician he taught Florence to take up a position adverse to the interests of Italy, to trust to France blindly in spite of all disappointments, and to war against Pisa for casting off the Florentine yoke in the same way as Florence herself had cast off the yoke of the Medici. We cannot wonder that this attitude awakened no sympathy in Italy, and that the efforts of the League were directed to the subjugation of Florence.

After the expulsion of the Medici the Florentines found some difficulty in arranging a new government. Some wished to keep the existing system, and to inspire it with the old vigor of the Florentine republic. Others wished to establish a more popular form, and turned their eyes to Venice for an example. Just as the Spartan constitution was the ideal of Athenian philosophers, so Venice was regarded by Italians as the state which had solved the problem of attaining political stability. The Consiglio Grande, of which every Venetian noble was a member, formed the basis of the Venetian constitution; the popular party at Florence demanded that a great council of the chiefest citizens should be set in a similar position in Florence. Feeling ran high, and men were sorely divided between these proposals when Savonarola interposed. He summoned to the Duomo the magistrates and all the citizens, excluding women and children. Before them he stood as a Christian teacher who believed that Christianity had power to regenerate society, and that its principles were applicable to political organization. The prophet who saw in Charles the instrument of God to deliver, yet chastise Florence, felt himself called to set the Government in a path where it might advance to the accomplishment of its mighty destiny. He spoke with the zeal of a Christian moralist, and enforced his words by the lofty assurance of a prophet. He defined the requisites of good government and applied his principles to the existing needs of Florence. He put before his hearers four great objects to be followed—the fear of God as the foundation of moral reform, love for the common welfare as superior to private interests, universal peace and amnesty to the partisans of the Medici, finally a form of government which should comprise all eligible citizens, so as to prevent factions and the consequent rise of individuals to domination. Savonarola's advice prevailed. On December 23 the Consiglio Grande was adopted by a large majority, and the democratic principle became the basis of the new constitution of Florence.

In thus venturing into the field of party politics, Savonarola took a step which drew upon him many enemies. Those who were opposed to the democratic constitution saw in Savonarola its great upholder, and worked to overthrow his influence. They found little difficulty in enlisting on their side the jealousy of the Franciscans against the Dominicans, and an attempt was made to get rid of Savonarola from Florence, by an order from his superior that he should preach at Lucca. The Florentine magistrates with some difficulty obtained from Alexander VI a suspension of this order. It would, indeed, have been difficult to withdraw Savonarola from Florence, where he stood as the head of the dominant political party and was striving to direct the energies of the city towards a revival of religious and moral life. He professed that he did not meddle with the affairs of the state, and he believed that he was laboring to establish a kingdom of Christ on earth. But, to an outside view, he had encouraged Florence to set up an independent form of government, resting on principles difficult to understand, and to pursue a policy which was not in accordance with the interest of the rest of Italy. Moreover, however much he might desire a united Florence, it was inevitable that the new constitution should have some opponents. Savonarola linked his fortunes with those of a political party. His friends were contemptuously known as the Piagnoni, because they wept at the eloquence of their master; his foes were called the Arrabiati, because of the fury of their attacks upon him. Watching these two parties were the partisans of the Medici, who only awaited an opportunity to raise their heads.

Savonarola was not ignorant of the dangers which beset him. In a sermon preached on December 21, 1494, he compared himself to one who has gone out fishing, and has been carried from sight of the shore while intent on his occupation.

“Oh, my Florence, I am that man! I was in a safe haven, the life of a friar; I looked at the waves of the world and saw therein much fish; with my hook I caught some, that is, by my preaching I led a few into the way of salvation. As I took pleasure therein the Lord drove my bark into the open sea. Before me on the vast ocean I see terrible tempests brewing. Behind I have lost sight of my haven: the wind drives me forward, and the Lord forbids my return. On my right the elect of God demand my help; on my left demons and wicked men lie in ambush. On high I see eternal life, and my soul rising on the wings of desire seeks its heavenly home, but falls helpless and overwhelmed with sadness because it must yet wait a long time. Below I see hell, which fills me with terror. I communed last night with the Lord, and said, ‘Pity me, Lord; lead me back to my haven’. “It is impossible; see you not that the wind is contrary?’. ‘I will preach, if so I must; but why need I meddle with the government of Florence?”. 

“If thou wouldst make Florence a holy city thou must establish her on firm foundations, and give her a government which favors virtue”. 

“But, Lord, I am not sufficient for these things”.

“Knowest thou not that God chooses the weak of this world to confound the mighty? Thou art the instrument, I am the doer”.

Then I was convinced, and cried, “Lord, I will do Thy will; but tell me, what shall be my reward?”. 

“Eye hath not seen nor ear heard”. 

“But in this life, Lord?”. 

“My son, the servant is not above his master. The Jews made Me die on the Cross : a like lot awaits thee”. “

Yea, Lord, let me die as Thou didst die for me”. 

Then He said, “Wait yet a while; let that be done which must be done, then arm thyself with courage”.

These predictions of troubles were soon realized. It was inevitable that the political attitude of Florence should be challenged, and that Savonarola's responsibility should be brought to light. When the League against France was being formed Alexander VI strove to draw Florence into it, but his envoy reported that the city was entirely under the power of Savonarola.

In July, 1495, the Pope invited him to come to Rome and explain his claims to a divine commission. Savonarola excused himself on the ground of ill-health, and for a time his excuses were admitted. He referred the Pope to his book, Compendium Revelationum, which was just on the point of appearing, and which contained a simple account of the growth of his belief in his own mission. In this book he recognizes the arguments against this belief they had sorely tried his own mind till he saw in them temptations of the devil to lead him away from his duty. The tempter suggested to him that he was misled by his moral enthusiasm to seek a sanction for his words, and urged that prophets ought to prove their commission by performing miracles. Against him Savonarola quoted the examples of Jonah and John the Baptist, who were prophets sent from God to call men to repentance, but who had no power beyond that of their words. The book ends with a prediction of the Virgin that Florence after trials and tribulations would come forth more glorious than before.

We may doubt if Alexander VI read Savonarola’s book. He had no objection to Savonarola preaching or prophesying as he chose, but he could not understand the political attitude of Florence. Charles had left Italy without restoring Pisa, and the Florentines had nothing to hope from French help, yet they showed no disposition to enter the League. Alexander VI on September 8 addressed to them a letter, in which he professed his desire for peace, declared his intention of excommunicating Charles if he again attempted to invade Italy, and threatened all who aided him with like penalties. He exhorted the Florentines not to endure the reproach of being the only men who sought the ruin of Italy. Besides this general admonition the Pope issued a brief, specially addressed to Savonarola, declaring that he had been led astray by novel and perverse doctrine, had spoken rashly, and despite his warnings had published his sermons. Till the case was further investigated he suspended Savonarola from preaching.

Savonarola replied by entreating the Pope to inform himself better before deciding. Meanwhile, as an attempt at the restoration of the Medici caused a ferment in the popular mind at Florence, he again preached on October 11. On October 16 came a second letter from the Pope, reproaching him with disturbing the peace of the city and again ordering him to be silent.

Savonarola bowed to the Pope's command, and during Advent his voice was not heard in the pulpit. The Florentine people were discontented at his silence. In truth Savonarola occupied a position seldom gained by a preacher, for he was the centre of a great revival of religious zeal, of a moral reformation, and of a new system of government which strove to carry out his principles. The feverish ardor of his followers needed the stimulus of his exhortations. Florence believed in his prophetic gift and longed for his consolations to support her in the repeated disappointments of the recovery of Pisa. The magistrates were urgent that the Pope should recall his suspension, as the city had with difficulty endured Savonarola's silence during Advent. On February 11, 1496, the Signori decreed that Savonarola should preach in Lent, or earlier if he chose, under pain of their severe displeasure. It would seem that Alexander, pressed to recall his suspension, made some vague remark that Savonarola might preach as he pleased provided he did not speak evil of the Pope or the Court of Rome. This remark was communicated to Savonarola by his friend Cardinal Caraffa, and Savonarola regarded it as sufficient permission.

The Carnival of 1496 gave a striking exhibition of Savonarola’s moral influence over the city. Instead of the licentious masques wherewith Lorenzo de' Medici had gratified the popular taste, Savonarola organized religious processions. Instead of the Carnival songs the streets of Florence echoed with the music of lauds. Savonarola had always attracted the young. He had raised seats for them in the cathedral where they might listen without disturbing the crowd below. He had enrolled them into guilds for the promotion of moral reform, and to the great consolation of sober citizens had checked the silly and brutal custom of stone-throwing, whereby the youth of the city disturbed the peace of respectable elders. He now produced a deep impression on the popular imagination by processions of children, varying in age from six to sixteen, who bore olive branches in their hands and chanted lauds with cries of “Viva Cristo e la Vergine Maria nostra regina”. Their parents were moved by the memory of Christ’s entry into Jerusalem, and felt the meaning of the words “out of the mouths of babes and sucklings hast thou perfected praise”. Such was the zeal of these youthful enthusiasts that their mothers could not keep them in bed on the mornings when the friar preached, so eager were they to be in their places in the cathedral. No wonder that this childish zeal was contagious. Pious hearts were deeply touched and said “This is the Lord’s doing”.

It was natural that Savonarola should be stirred by this testimony to his moral power. It is inevitable that the preacher and the social reformer should be nurtured on the enthusiasm which he excites, and should forget the strength of opposing forces which are hidden from his eyes. To Savonarola Italy was centered in Florence, and Florence was swayed by his words. The papal inhibition did not remind him that there were larger interests beyond, and that his conception of the mission of Florence was opposed to the current views of the stability of Italian affairs. He appeared before the Florentines with unabated confidence in his own prophetic mission, and declared his loyalty to the Catholic Church, by which he meant the Church of Rome; to its decision he was always ready to submit himself and his teaching. But, he went on to say, no papal prohibition could move him from the path of duty. “We are not bound to obey all commands. If they come through false information, they are not valid. If they contradict the law of love set forth in the Gospel, we must withstand them as S. Paul withstood S. Peter. We cannot suppose such a possibility: but if it were so, we must answer our superior, You err; you are not the Roman Church, you are a man and a sinner”.

These were bold words; but if they were reported to Alexander he does not seem to have paid any heed to them on personal or ecclesiastical grounds. He had suffered enough from one French invasion and was resolved to run no risk of a second. He was bent upon banding Italy against the invader, and Florence must be won over to the Italian League. He had no quarrel against Florence, no ill-will against Savonarola; but Florence must abandon its alliance with France, and Savonarola was the leader of the French party in Florence. Alexander wished to settle matters quietly, and, as a man of the world, was amazed at the infatuation of Florence for a “chattering friar”. He had allowed Savonarola to preach on the tacit understanding that he should keep away from politics and confine himself to religion. He was indignant when he heard that Savonarola had shown himself more obstinate than before in his political ideas and even dared to brave the Pope's displeasure. So long as Savonarola confined himself to the things of the kingdom of Heaven, the Pope was content that he should go his own way; but he could not be allowed to interfere longer with the Pope's views about the affairs of his earthly kingdom.

Alexander VI was too much of a practical statesman to push matters to extremity. The words of Savonarola provoked a passing anger; but Alexander was not intolerant of plain speaking. He thought it beneath the papal dignity to quarrel with a friar. The enemies of Savonarola were numerous, and they filled the Pope’s ear with complaints against him. They magnified his influence in Florence, they distorted his words, they forged letters from him to Charles urging a new French invasion of Italy. But Alexander was not greatly moved by any of these things. From time to time he warned Savonarola; but he had no wish to proceed severely against him. He bent all his efforts to induce Florence to break off its alliance with France and enter the Italian League. He knew that Savonarola was the chief obstacle to his wish; but he was willing to try all other means before attacking Savonarola himself.

So matters stood when Maximilian proposed to enter Italy. The League was powerful and Florence was weak. It was suffering from a long famine; its people were impoverished by the long war; its castles were badly fortified and ill prepared to endure a siege; help from France was no longer to be expected. The envoys of the Pope and of the League made fair promises of the restoration of Pisa, if only the French alliance were abandoned. Florence was in great straits and for a moment its citizens wavered. But they valued their newly won liberty; they dreaded that the triumph of the League would mean the restoration of the Medici; they could not put much faith in promises made by a body of allies whose separate interests were so diverse. They resolved that they would not try a new fortune, whatever risks their resolution might bring. 

Maximilian and his allies came to teach Florence a lesson. They were joyously received at Pisa, and in the middle of October undertook the siege of Livorno. The Venetian ships blockaded it by sea and cut off supplies from the famished Florentines. Attempts to bring provisions were frustrated by a storm which scattered the ships laden with corn from Marseilles. Florence was in great distress and men turned to Savonarola for comfort. On October 28 he preached a stirring sermon and promised them speedy help. On October 30 the miraculous image of the Virgin of S. Maria della Impruneta was carried in procession through the city; and the strains of the penitential litany were suddenly broken by a shout of joy. A messenger came from Livorno bringing the news that some ships from Marseilles, taking advantage of a storm which scattered the Venetian squadron, had entered the harbor of Livorno with supplies.

This transient success would have availed the Florentines little if the allies had resolutely pushed the siege. But the Venetians and Milanese were suspicious of one another, and neither of them really wished to see Maximilian obtain a foothold in Italy. The storms of autumn wrecked the Venetian fleet, and Maximilian himself was in peril of his life. The ships were disabled, and Maximilian, weary of his profitless enterprise, left Pisa on November 21, and hastened into Lombardy. There he bitterly reproached the Milanese and Venetians for their conduct; then he returned ingloriously across the Alps. Savonarola’s predictions were fulfilled; Florence was saved, and looked with greater confidence upon its prophet

It would seem that Alexander had not put great confidence in the success of this expedition as a means of solving the Florentine difficulty. He negotiated privately with Savonarola that he might win him to his side. He sent to Florence the Proctor-General of the Dominicans, Luigi of Ferrara, who for three days reasoned with the prophet. At last, when he had exhausted his arguments, he said: “The Pope, confident in your virtue and wisdom, will raise you to the Cardinalate if you will cease to foretell the future”. “I cannot abandon the embassy of the King, my Master”, replied Savonarola. “Come to my sermon tomorrow, and I will answer you”. Next day Savonarola asserted anew his belief in his prophecies; then he went on: “I seek no earthly glory; far be it from me. It is enough, my God, that Thy blood was shed through love for me. I only wish to be glorified in Thee. I seek neither hat nor mitre, I desire only what Thou hast given to Thy saints—death. Give me a hat, a red hat, but red with blood; that is my desire”. Fra Luigi had his answer and returned to Rome.

Savonarola’s bitterest and most skillful enemies were those of the Dominican Order, who were jealous of his reputation and viewed his reforms with alarm. One of them, Francesco Mei, suggested to the Pope a plan by which this inconvenient politician might be silenced. Savonarola was strong in Florence by virtue of his independent position as head of the Tuscan Congregation of the Dominican Order. That position had been conferred on him by a papal brief; inasmuch as he misused his power, let the Pope take it away. This could easily be done by a redistribution of the Dominican convents. Savonarola had induced the Pope to separate the Tuscan Congregation from the Congregation of Lombardy. Plausible reasons could be adduced for a further change, for the formation of a new Congregation which should unite the Convent of Marco at Florence with some convents detached from the Congregations of Lombardy and of Rome. Grounds of convenience in ecclesiastical organization could easily be found for the creation of this Tusco-Roman Congregation, which would destroy Savonarola's independent position and subject him to the orders of an ecclesiastical superior.

No doubt this was an unworthy maneuver; but it was a skillful one. Savonarola could not urge much against it; for he himself had used the Pope's authority to arrange for his own purposes the distribution of the Dominican convents. It was true that his plan was founded upon a sound principle and had met with success. It was equally true that the new scheme set forth by the Pope’s brief was opposed to all sound principles, was almost impracticable, and had no other end than the removal of Savonarola from Florence. But men not versed in details could not so clearly see the issue. Even the Florentine envoy at Rome wrote home that Savonarola was bound to obey the Pope, whose plan was not directed against himself, but was solely for the honor of God.

The papal brief was issued on November 7, 1496, ordering the priors and monks of the convents named to join the new Congregation under penalty of excommunication. Savonarola did not disguise from himself the weight of the blow which had fallen upon him; “The children of my mother”, he exclaimed, “have fought against me”. He resolved to offer a resolute but moderate resistance. It would be unfair to say that he was moved thereto solely by personal considerations. Great as was his influence in Florence, much as he believed in his mission to the city, he was above all things true to his convent. He lived amongst his brethren; he fired them with his own zeal for righteousness; he cared for their souls. If the proposed change were made, his work in S. Marco would be undone, his reforms would be swept away, his devoted band of brethren would be dispersed. For their sake, for God’s sake, he felt it to be his duty to resist.

His first steps showed his straightforwardness. He gathered together the parents of his monks, who were mostly members of noble families, and asked their opinion. They answered unanimously that they were opposed to the new scheme, and if it were carried out, would remove their sons. Then Savonarola gathered together his brethren, who to the number of two hundred and fifty set their hands to a letter to the Pope in which they declared that they would suffer any hardship rather than consent to the proposed union.

Here this matter rested for a time. The failure of Maximilian and his allies at Livorno was hailed by the Florentines as a great deliverance. The republican party was strengthened, and Savonarola's influence in Florence was secure. But he felt that the plots against him were gradually producing an effect. Each attack might be repulsed, but it involved some loss. Savonarola was more and more driven to stand on the defensive, and a false step at any moment was sure to be fatal. He was more and more diligent in his work as a moral reformer, and found an enthusiastic helper in Fra Domenico da Pescia, to whom he especially committed the training of the young. The Carnival of 1497 was signalized by the puritan efforts of Savonarola’s boys. They went from door to door asking for ‘vanities’, and gathered a huge pile of miscellaneous objects which the consciences of the people prompted them to give up. Immodest books, pictures, ornaments, frivolous articles of attire, whatever was thought to stand in the way of godliness, all were heaped up in the Piazza de' Signori and were solemnly burned. It was the most striking and the most dramatic testimony to Savonarola's influence over the luxurious and artistic Florentines.

Meanwhile Alexander was steadily pursuing his policy of detaching Florence from France. He appealed to the self-interest of the Florentines by offering on behalf of the Italian League to restore Pisa, provided the Florentines would show themselves ‘good Italians’ by breaking their alliance with France and joining the League. The promise was fair; but the Florentines asked themselves how it was to be fulfilled. If they could not win back Pisa for themselves, they doubted if the Pope and the League could win it for them. The Florentine envoy in Rome, Bracci, was instructed to tell the Pope that Florence would not abandon its French alliance. He did so, adding that nevertheless the Florentines were ‘excellent Italians’, and that their alliance with France involved no obligation to injure in any way any Italian power. Alexander's answer was characteristic of his resoluteness and plain speaking. “Sir secretary”, he said, “you are as fat as we are, but you have come with a thin commission; and if you have nothing else to say you may be gone. We see that your masters stand on their customary fair speeches and excuses; we tell you that if you do not wish our blessing, it shall be far from you. We shall be blameless before God and man if, after having done our duty as a good shepherd towards your city, you yourselves wish to be the cause of your own ill, which, we tell you, is closer than you think. You will find that, since you do not choose to come to our side through goodwill, you will have to come of necessity, through force and through means whereby we can make a great revolution in your affairs. We do not know whence springs this obstinacy of yours”. He paused and went on in a still more angry voice, “We believe that it has its root in the prophecies of your chattering friar”. Then he went on to complain that the government of Florence allowed Savonarola to speak evil of himself.

The immediate result of the Pope’s menace was an attempt by Piero de' Medici to surprise Florence. Piero was driven from its gates on April 28, and the Medicean party in Florence was consequently discredited. The Arrabbiati gained political ascendency, and the new magistrates were not so warmly in Savonarola’s favor. This encouraged his opponents, who seized the opportunity of his next appearance to make a demonstration against him. He was to preach on Ascension Day, May 4, and the previous night some young men managed to enter the Duomo and fill the pulpit with filth. The news of this outrage produced great excitement amongst Savonarola’s congregation. Men listened with excited feelings, and when during the sermon the chest for receiving alms was pushed over and fell with a clang, there was a general uproar. A body of Savonarola's friends gathered round the pulpit and drew their swords. Savonarola in vain tried to quiet the disturbance. He knelt a while in silent prayer; then he left the Duomo, and was escorted home by a band of armed adherents.

This scandalous scene caused much talk throughout Italy. The Florentine magistrates issued an order prohibiting friars of any order to preach without their permission, and the benches which had been erected in the Duomo for Savonarola's congregation were all removed. Though they hastened to inform the Pope what they had done, and at the same time spoke slightingly of the disturbance which had taken place, their apologies came too late. On May 13 the Pope signed a brief excommunicating Savonarola, on the grounds that he was suspected of preaching dangerous doctrines, that he had refused the Pope’s summons to come to Rome and clear himself, had continued preaching in spite of the Pope’s prohibitions, and refused to obey the Pope's orders to unite the Convent of S. Marco to a newly-instituted Congregation.

Still, though the brief was signed, it was not published till June 18. Alexander did not wish to quarrel with the Florentine people, but wished to strike Savonarola only. The brief was not addressed to the people and clergy of Florence; but briefs were sent to the several convents, and were published by the brethren at their discretion. Savonarola replied by a letter addressed to all Christians, in which he argued that an unjust excommunication was invalid. He quoted Gerson as an authority for resisting a Pope who misused his power. He quoted the decrees of Constance and Basel as to the limitation of excommunications. But the arguments of a letter sounded cold to those who had hung on the prophet's lips. There was nothing to kindle the enthusiasm of Savonarola's followers, and they mourned that they were 'deprived of the Word of God'. A reaction against puritanism set in. The taverns were again filled with customers, and the games at the street corners were resumed. Savonarola's friends were put on the defensive. They were assailed with ridicule, and were driven to defend them­selves by argument in which they did not always get the best.

Still the magistrates of Florence strove to induce the Pope to withdraw his brief of excommunication. Alexander was much grieved by the death of his son the Duke of Gandia, who was found murdered on June 15. He spoke of reforming the Church, and instituted a commission of six Cardinals to whom he committed Savonarola's case. Savonarola wrote a letter of condolence to the Pope, in which he urged that zeal for the faith was the one consolation for sorrow. Alexander VI was not displeased at this frankness, but he soon recovered from his distress and returned to his political interests. Letters expressing confidence in Savonarola were sent to the Pope, one signed by all the brethren of S. Marco, another signed by three hundred and seventy of the chief citizens of Florence. On June 27 Alexander VI told the Florentine envoy that the publication of the brief of excommunication was contrary to his wishes. But the zeal of Savonarola's friends stirred up a corresponding zeal on the part of his enemies, whose letters accusing Savonarola poured in upon the Pope; and Alexander took no steps to recall his excommunication.

Savonarola remained quietly in his cell at S. Marco, while Florence in the month of August was convulsed by a great strife. Evidence came to light which fixed the blame of the Medicean rising in April on five of the chief citizens of Florence, whose complicity had hitherto been unsuspected. There was great excitement and much discussion as to what was to be done. Ultimately the conspirators were put to death without the chance of appeal. The result of this firmness was the supremacy in Florence of Savonarola's friends the Piagnoni. Savonarola himself took no part in this affair; he was engaged in publishing his great theological work, 'Il Trionfo della Croce'. He had good hopes that the Pope would revoke his censure, and was content to wait quietly, and allow the arguments of his friends to sink into the minds of the people. He did not wish to scandalize his weaker brethren, though he did not hope to justify himself to his opponents. He was prepared to maintain that the excommunication was issued on erroneous grounds, and that the Pope had overstepped the limits of justice; but he waited for a time before taking any definite action.

At last Savonarola stood forward in opposition to the Pope’s excommunication. On Christmas Day he celebrated the mass in S. Marco. The Florentine magistrates declared themselves on his side by going on the Epiphany to make offerings in S. Marco, where they kissed Savonarola’s hand as he stood by the high altar. He was invited to resume his preaching, and the seats were again erected in the Duomo. The vicar of the Archbishop of Florence attempted to prevent this; but the Signori threatened to declare him a rebel unless he withdrew his opposition. On February 11, 1498, Savonarola again entered the pulpit and preached to an anxious crowd. Regarding the excommunication he said: “God governs the world by secondary agents, which are instruments in His hand. When the agent withdraws himself from God, he is no longer an instrument; he is a broken iron. But you will ask how I am to know when the agent fails. I answer: compare his commands with the root of all wisdom, that is, good living and charity: if they are contrary thereto the instrument is a broken iron, and you are no longer bound to obey. Those who by false reports have sought my excommunication wished to do away with good living and good government, to open the door to every vice”. Savonarola appealed from the Pope to the better informed conscience of his hearers. He explained his position more fully to the envoy of the Duke of Ferrara, to whom he said: “I could not take my commission to preach from the Signori, nor even from the Pope, seeing that he continues in his present manner of life. I await my commission from One superior to the Pope and to every other creature”.

When the envoy represented the possible scandal that might arise, Savonarola answered: “If I knew that the excommunication was justified I would have respected it. Moreover, I am more than certain that my preaching will cause no scandal nor disorder in the city”.

Savonarola overestimated the weight attaching to good intentions when they lead to a course opposed to recognized order. “Many”, says one of his Florentine followers, “refused to go to his preaching through fear of the excommunication, saying : Just or unjust, it is to be feared I myself was one of those who did not go”. Men of this cautious turn of mind did not make their voices heard, but their attitude was dangerous, Savonarola listened only to the eager disciples who crowded round him, saying, “When will you preach again? We are dying of hunger"”. He satisfied their desires. His sermons followed thick and fast during the month of February. In the Carnival, on February 27, Savonarola said mass in S. Marco, and with his own hand communicated all the brethren of the convent and several thousands of men and women. Then he advanced to a pulpit outside the church, bearing in his hand the consecrated host, and adjured God to strike him dead if he had spoken anything false, if he deserved the excommunication. Popular excitement ran high, and many expected to see signs and wonders. There was another ‘Burning of Vanities’ in the Piazza. His opponents mocked and said, “He is excommunicated himself and communicates others”. Sober citizens who believed in his commission thought that he was making a mistake, and abstained from showing themselves on his side.

Savonarola’s first sermon was circulated throughout Italy and produced much comment. Alexander could scarcely enjoy being called ‘a broken iron’; but he was not a man to attach importance to hasty words. He showed no resentment against Savonarola, and listened to the Florentine envoys who pleaded in his favor. He was anxious only for the success of his political plans, and on February 22 again pressed the envoys to know if Florence would lay aside its alliance with France. When they held out no hopes he rose in anger and left the room. At the door he paused and said, “Go on and set Fra Girolamo to preach. I could never have believed that you would have treated me thus”. In vain the envoys tried to calm him. On February 25 he threatened to lay Florence under an interdict. Next day he issued two briefs, one to the Canons of the Duomo ordering them to prevent Savonarola from preaching in their church, the other to the Signori bidding them send Savonarola to Rome. Still he showed himself placable to the Florentine envoys. He was still ready to work for the restoration of Pisa, if Florence would join the League: if Savonarola would cease from preaching he was willing to absolve him. On March 1 he assembled the ambassadors of the League and proposed to them the restitution of Pisa to Florence. All agreed except the Venetian envoy, who expressed distrust of Florence and tried to irritate the Pope against her by quoting Savonarola’s sermons and exaggerating their expressions against the Pope. Alexander answered with calmness, exhorting the Venetians to agree to a step which was for the common good of Italy: he himself would not allow any private injury to stand in the way of that end.

But Alexander was now resolved to reduce Savonarola to silence. He commissioned Savonarola's old enemy, Fra Mariano da Genazzano, to preach against his doctrines at Rome. Fra Mariano lost himself in unworthy and scurrilous abuse, to the disgust of his audience. Yet the Florentine ambassador regarded his sermon as an ominous sign of the Pope's displeasure. Piero de' Medici was frequently seen at the Vatican, and the Pope showed him manifest signs of his favor. The Florentine merchants in Rome were threatened with the withdrawal of the Pope's protection and the confiscation of their goods; they petitioned the Florentine-magistrates to act in their behalf. The scheme for the restoration of Pisa was held before the Florentine envoy, and the Pope declared that he would no longer favor Florence unless Savonarola were silenced. The envoy wrote anxious letters home. The majority of the magistrates who had come into office did not belong to Savonarola’s party, but they would not at once abandon him. They wrote, on March 3, a dignified defence of his wonderful influence as a moral reformer; and said that they could not obey the Pope's commands without causing serious disturbances in Florence. When this letter was laid before the Pope he expressed his surprise. “No attention has been paid to my brief. If Savonarola is not stayed from preaching, I will lay Florence under an interdict. I do not condemn him for his good teaching, but because he preaches though excommunicated, and does not seek absolution”. He looked at the letter of the magistrates and declared that he recognized it as composed by Savonarola,

The Pope knew that the Florentine magistrates were beginning to give way. On March 9 he issued another brief which was written with great moderation. He could not suffer an excommunicated man to continue preaching, and he ordered the magistrates to prevent him. “As regards Fra Girolamo”, he continued, “we only demand that he should repent and come to us: we will receive him readily, and after restoring him to the Church by our absolution, we will send him back to save souls in your city by preaching the word of God”. Savonarola’s answer to the brief was that he could not free himself from embarrassment by trampling on his conscience; he was certain that his teaching came from God.

The Florentine magistrates, on March 14, summoned a council to deliberate. There were various opinions; but the majority was in favor of suspending Savonarola from preaching. Still the magistrates held their hands, and on March 17 again summoned some of the chief citizens to give their advice. The general conclusion was to persuade Savonarola to abstain from preaching, but to answer that the other demands of the Pope were unworthy of the city. On March 18 Savonarola preached his last sermon and took farewell of his congregation. For his own part, he said, he was glad to be relieved of the labor of preaching; he was glad to betake himself to study; he would carry on by his prayers the work which he had begun by his sermons; God would send another to take his place.

The letters of the Florentine magistrates telling of this resolution did not reach Rome till March 22. Alexander was angry at this long delay, and had uttered many threats to the Florentine envoy, who was relieved to have some answer to carry to the Pope. The answer fell far short of what Alexander VI desired; Savonarola was not commanded, but only persuaded, to abstain from preaching; he was not sent to Rome to ask for absolution. Moreover the Pope had addressed a brief to the Florentine magistrates; he received no direct answer from them, but only a communication through their envoy. However, Alexander received the answer in good part. He said, “If Fra Girolamo will obey for a time and then ask for absolution, I will willingly give it him and give him liberty to preach. I do not condemn his doctrine, but only his preaching without absolution, his evil speaking of us, and his despite of our censures. If we endured such things there would be an end of the apostolic authority”.

But though Alexander spoke fairly, he was resolved to act resolutely. He was angered at hearing that though Savonarola’s voice was silenced, his followers, chief of whom was Fra Domenico da Pescia, continued fervently to deliver their master's messages to the Florentine people. On March 31 he told the Florentine envoy that he purposed sending a prelate to Florence to demand that Savonarola should come to Rome and make his submission. The envoy saw in this a change from the Pope’s previous attitude of indifference; and Alexander VI had motives concerned with weightier matters than the political combinations of Italy, to urge him to deprive Savonarola of the power of attack.

Alexander had many enemies who were ready to use against him any weapon that could be found. Cardinal Rovere had urged Charles VIII. to summon a Council and inquire into the simoniacal election of the Pope. Charles had shrunk from a task of such magnitude, from which he had little to gain, and for which his own character rendered him unfit. But in the end of 1497 a change came over Charles. The death of his infant son had given him a shock, and he began to think more seriously of his duties. He laid before the Sorbonne a series of questions. Were the decrees of Constance for the summoning of future Councils binding on the Pope? If the Pope did not summon a Council, could the scattered members of the Church gather together of themselves? If other princes refused, could the King of France call together a Council for the good of the Church? The Sorbonne replied in the affirmative to all these questions.

It was natural for Alexander to dread this possible revival of the conciliar spirit. He knew how Charles had been impressed by Savonarola. He knew that Savonarola’s prophetic claims, his moral earnestness, and his wonderful influence at Florence, made him an important personage. Savonarola had spoken boldly of the need of reform in the head of the Church and of the corruptions of the Roman Curia: in a General Council he would prove a dangerous adversary. Alexander had been willing to try and win him over; when once he had broken with him it was necessary to reduce him to silence. There is no reason to think that he wished for more than Savonarola’s submission; but that he must have. Savonarola had called him a 'broken iron', had rejected his excommunication as unjust, and when driven to extremities had approached the subject of a Council. On March 9 he said in his sermon, “Tell me, Florence, what is a Council? Men have forgotten; but how comes it that your sons know nothing of it, and there is no Council now? You answer, Father, it cannot be gathered together’. That is perhaps true. A Council is the Church, all good prelates, abbots, and scholars. But there is no Church without the grace of the Holy Spirit; and where is that to be found? Perhaps only in some obscure good man. And for this reason you may say that there can be no Council. A Council would have to make its own reformers. It would have to punish all the evil clergy, and perhaps there would be left none who were not deposed. This is why it is hard to summon a Council. Pray the Lord that it may one day be possible”.

On the arrival of the Pope’s last brief, Savonarola wrote a dignified letter with his own hand to Alexander. He said that he had labored for the salvation of souls and the restoration of Christian discipline; he had been assailed by many foes, and had hoped for help and comfort from the Pope, but the Pope had joined his enemies; he could only submit himself patiently to God, who sometimes “chose the weak things of this world to confound the mighty”. “May your Holiness”, he ended, “make haste to provide for your own salvation”. After this, there could only be avowed hostility between the Pope and the ardent apostle of righteousness.

Savonarola knew that many of the Cardinals were in favor of summoning a Council. He employed several of his friends in Florence, who had relatives amongst the Florentine envoys at foreign courts, to submit to them a memorandum on the motives for summoning a General Council. This was sent to the Emperor and the Kings of France, Spain, England and Hungary. Meanwhile Savonarola in his cell was preparing letters which would carry the matter farther.

Savonarola had been driven into a position where he was likely to create a movement in the ecclesiastical politics of Europe. His weakness was that he was too closely identified with the particular politics of Florence. He had begun as a moral reformer in the great centre of the life of Italy. He had aimed at regenerating Florence so that it should be a city set on a hill, whose light would spread far and wide. He had interpreted its political events as warnings from on high, and had led it to adopt a political attitude which seemed to him to have the sanction of God. This political attitude of Florence had many political opponents. When they could not move Savonarola as a politician, they attacked him as a prophet. With some difficulty they brought against him the authority of the head of the Church, and forced him into collision with the ecclesiastical system. Savonarola set to work to enlist on his side the longings of the nations of Europe for ecclesiastical reform. Till this could be done he rested on the approval of his own conscience, on his individual sense of a divine guidance. His followers believed in him on the ground of his own assertions. His enemies hastened to take advantage of his isolation, and challenged him to bring to some clear and palpable test his claims to a divine mission.

Savonarola in his later sermons had expressed his inmost feelings of profound trust in God. Like the Hebrew Psalmist he saw God on the side of the just; he perceived the nothingness of the wicked; he believed that when troubles pressed most near the hour of God’s deliverance was close at hand. Now that he was put to silence his enemies gathered round him and cried, “There, there, so would we have it”. The deadly struggle of the world against the righteous man raged round Savonarola, and made him a hero of the eternal tragedy Of the human soul.

The dealings of the Florentine magistrates with the Pope, the consultations of the citizens, the political intrigues, the flying rumors, had awakened a feverish excitement in the city. When Savonarola’s voice was silenced the voices of smaller men began to be heard. The enemies of Savonarola had always been well represented in the pulpit. The Franciscans of S. Croce had seen with jealousy the growing importance of the Dominicans of S. Marco. The Franciscan preachers had always been ready to point out the errors of Savonarola’s teaching; but hitherto their eloquence had met with little attention. There was no case to be made against Savonarola; nothing that could be offered as an equivalent to the interest attaching to his bold and fervent treatment of religious and social questions. But the papal excommunication and Savonarola's refusal to heed it opened out a fertile field for polemics. Savonarola’s conduct might be justifiable, but it was certainly revolutionary. Many men were undecided and wished to hear both sides before making up their minds. The Franciscans had little to say that men cared to hear, so long as they attacked in Savonarola the moral reformer, the political regenerator of Florence; but now a controversy concerning the meanings and limits of the power of excommunication was one in which every Florentine was willing to take a part. Hence came the importance of silencing Savonarola. So long as the stream of his impassioned eloquence continued, he could confirm the waverers, and his adversaries were little heeded. When Savonarola's voice was no longer heard his opponents redoubled their attacks, and the pulpit of S. Croce rang with denunciations of the false prophet, the heretic, the excommunicated monk.

Savonarola's friends waxed equally warm in his defence. Fra Domenico da Pescia was his chief champion, and on March 27, in an impassioned sermon, declared his readiness to enter into the fire to prove his belief in the truth of Savonarola’s teaching. Next day he repeated his offer, and declared that many others of the brethren of S. Marco were ready to do likewise. Turning to his congregation he added, “yes, and many of you would do so too”. Many women rose in their excitement and cried, “I too am ready”. The Franciscan preacher, Francesco da Puglia, at once took up the challenge. “I believe”, he said, “that I shall be burned; but I am ready to die to free this people. If Savonarola does not burn, you may believe him to be a true prophet”. He set aside the offer of Fra Domenico, and matched himself only with Savonarola.

In the prevailing excitement the rhetoric of two contending preachers was seized upon by Savonarola’s foes. The Compagnacci at a supper in the Pitti Palace resolved to use the opportunity. Their leader, Dolfo Spini, assured the Franciscans that they had nothing to fear: the trial would be prevented and Savonarola would be ruined. He found it easy to stir up the populace to wild excitement about the proposal. He enlisted the magistrates on his side by showing them that it afforded a safe way out of their difficulties.

The trial by fire was a remnant of the old judicial system of the ordeal—a system which had been discountenanced by the Church, and had fallen out of use. But its memory still lingered in men's minds, and it seemed to them to apply to the exceptional case before them. Formal documents were drawn up and signed by the champions on either side. Savonarola refused to submit himself to the test. He had not challenged it; but if his champion failed, the consequences would fall upon him. He told his friends that he was sure that God was on his side and would work wonders for him; but He would do so in His own good time; he would not tempt God; the signs which he had already wrought by the results of his preaching were enough to convince those who were open to conviction.

When the news of the proposal reached Rome, Alexander expressed his disapproval. The revival of the ordeal was against the laws of the Church. Moreover, the intention to submit directly to the judgment of God a case which had been called before the Pope’s tribunal was in itself a denial of the Pope's spiritual authority. Alexander protested against the ordeal to the Florentine envoy; but he did not send to Florence a formal prohibition. The envoy assured him that there was no means of stopping the trial by fire save by removing the excommunication of Savonarola. This Alexander refused to do, and left things to take their course.

On the morning of Saturday, April 7, the people of Florence thronged with eagerness to the Piazza de' Signori, where a platform, sixty yards long and ten yards broad, was erected and piled at either side with logs smeared with oil and pitch. At S. Marco Savonarola addressed his friends. Miracles, he said, were useless where reason could suffice; he went to the trial with a clear conscience, because he had been provoked and could not shrink back without betraying his cause. He committed himself to the hands of God, and besought his friends to stay and pray for him. The brethren of the convent, walking in procession two by two, advanced to the Piazza. Fra Domenico was vested in a chasuble, and by his side went Savonarola, in a white cope, bearing in his hand the consecrated host. As they went they sang the processional psalm, “Let God arise and let his enemies be scattered”, and the vast throng that followed joined in the strains. They entered the Piazza and took up their position in the Loggia de' Lanzi, of which half was assigned to them and half to the Franciscans

Fra Domenico was ready, but the Franciscan champion was in the Palazzo. Presently a message was brought demanding that Fra Domenico should lay aside his chasuble, on the ground that it had been enchanted by Savonarola, to whom his enemies wished to ascribe magical arts. Fra Domenico at once assented. Then came a second demand, that he should change his other clothes for a similar reason. Again he agreed, saying that he was ready to wear the dress of any of his brethren. He retired into the Palazzo to change his garments, and when he returned was carefully kept from the neighborhood of Savonarola lest he should be enchanted afresh. The crowd meanwhile were weary of waiting. They had stood since the early morning and were fasting. A tumult arose, and a band of Compagnacci, who had been waiting their opportunity, made a rush for the Loggia. They were repulsed by the readiness of one of Savonarola’s friends, who drew a line upon the ground and dared them to cross it. When order was restored, a heavy thunderstorm burst over the city and the torrents of rain gave a new pretext for delay.

At last the storm was over and preparations were again begun. The Franciscans asked Fra Domenico to lay aside the crucifix which he held in his hand. He did so and took in its stead the consecrated host. To this the Franciscans raised great objections; would he dare to expose the host to fire? This time Savonarola stood firm. His adversaries had done their utmost to show that if he succeeded in the trial it was due to magic; he claimed to be allowed to have God's presence in the Sacrament as a sign that God, and God only, was his defence. He answered the objection to the possible desecration of the host, by saying that, in any case, only the accidents and not the substance of the Sacrament would be destroyed. The theological discussion occupied much time; at last the magistrates sent a message that the trial would not take place that day. The two bodies of monks retired to their convents.

The crowd angrily dispersed from the Piazza, and the Compagnacci used their opportunity of turning against Savonarola the popular disappointment. The bystanders had not understood what passed. Some of them had come to see a sight and had been disappointed. Many had come expecting to see the prophet, give a clear sign of his divine mission. He had spoken of signs and wonders; he had foretold the purposes of God; his followers had gone readily to the trial. The Franciscans, on the other hand, had claimed no divine mission. They had from the first declared that they expected to be burned, and were content to be burned for the sake of unmasking an impostor. It was not for them to show a sign: it was for Savonarola. In the eyes of the people he had failed, and they lost all faith in their prophet; disappointment led to bitterness and a keen sense of deception.

The Compagnacci were well organised and resolved to take advantage of this change of the popular feeling. Next day, Palm Sunday, a body of Compagnacci raised a crowd which rushed to S. Marco, killed such of Savonarola's followers as they met, and stormed the convent with fire and sword. For a time the brethren offered a stubborn resistance, till the magistrates sent a body of men to arrest Savonarola, Fra Domenico, and Fra Silvestro; who were led to the Palazzo amid the shouts of the angry crowd, who heaped upon them every indignity and insult.

When the news of these events reached Rome, Alexander VI was delighted. He had been long suffering toward Savonarola at first; but when once he declared against him he was resolved upon his humiliation. He had protested against the trial by fire—he could scarcely do otherwise—but when it ended in Savonarola’s fall he was quite satisfied. He wrote to the Franciscans and praised their holy zeal, which he would ever hold in grateful memory. He wrote to Fra Francesco da Puglia and incited him to persevere in this good and pious work till the evil were entirely destroyed. He wrote to the Florentine magistrates and praised their action. He absolved the city from all censures which had been incurred through any irregularities committed in the late tumults. The Florentine magistrates used the opportunity of the Pope’s graciousness to ask for a grant of a tenth of ecclesiastical revenues, as their exchequer sorely needed replenishing. Alexander VI replied by a request that Savonarola should be handed over to him for trial. Though the magistrates did not agree to this request, they were anxious in their conduct of the trial to gratify the Pope to the utmost.

The miserable story of Savonarola's trial may be briefly told. A commission of seventeen members was appointed to examine him. They put to the torture the nervous sensitive monk already worn out by asceticism and toil. They questioned him and reduced his incoherent answers to such shape as they pleased. When this did not seem enough to ruin his character they falsified the deposition, and when he heard it read in silence, extorted his signature and announced that he had confessed to being a deceiver of the people. Everything was carefully arranged to ruin him in, popular estimation. It was the weakness of Savonarola’s career that his efforts sprang too exclusively from a belief in his own individual mission. When his followers saw their prophet in the hands of his enemies they had not the courage to stand alone. The so-called confession of Savonarola sufficed for the time to dispel their faith. “He confessed”, says one of them, “that he was not a prophet and had not from God the things that he preached. He confessed that many things which happened during the course of his preaching were contrary to what he had represented. When I heard this confession read I stood in stupor and amazement. My soul was grieved to see so grand an edifice fall to the ground because it was built on the sorry foundation of a lie. I was waiting to see Florence a new Jerusalem, whence would go forth the laws and example of a good life; I was waiting for the renewal of the Church, the conversion of unbelievers, the consolation of the just. I felt that it was all the contrary, and could only heal my woe by the cry, Lord, in Thy hands are all things”.

This sense of profound discouragement amongst Savonarola's followers was the result of the skillful way in which Savonarola’s enemies had placed the issue before them. “Savonarola”, they said, “is a prophet with a special mission from God. We do not profess to be prophets. We know that the fire will burn us, but we are willing to be burned if he burns too. We are willing to do anything that may convince you that your prophet is no true prophet, and has no special mission”. Savonarola’s entire position was made to depend exclusively on his prophetic claims. Amongst these claims was put, by the suggestion of his enemies and the excited feelings of his friends, the claim of working wonders which Savonarola himself had always repudiated. His entire faith in God's providence led him to face the trial so skillfully proposed. When he was found to be merely a man, like other men, his followers for the moment felt that they had been deceived. They did not stop to ask whether the deception was due to their own enthusiasm or to their master's assertions. Perplexed and disheartened, Savonarola's party melted away.

Even the brethren of S. Marco deserted their great leader, and wrote to the Pope begging his forgiveness. They pleaded that, in their simplicity, they had been beguiled by the commanding intellect and pretended sanctity of Savonarola. “Let it suffice your Holiness to punish the head and front of this offence; we like sheep who have gone astray return to the true shepherd”. No abasement could be more complete.

The fate of Savonarola was the subject of much negotiation between the Pope and the Florentine magistrates. The Pope wished that he should be delivered to him for punishment; the Florentines urged that such a course was injurious to the dignity of their city. At last Alexander VI agreed to send two commissaries to Florence who were to judge the spiritual offences of Savonarola, while he left the Florentines to judge his offences against the city. At the same time he granted them his permission to impose a tax of three-tenths upon ecclesiastical revenues. “Three times ten make thirty”, said some of those who still remained true to Savonarola; “our master is sold for thirty pieces like the Savior”.

On May 19 the papal commissioners arrived in Florence. They were Gioacchino Torriano, General of the Dominicans, and Francesco Remolino, Bishop of Ilerda. Concerning Remolino we have the testimony of Cesare Borgia that “he had no mind for ecclesiastical affairs”, but the qualifications of the commissaries was not an important matter, as they made no secret that they came to condemn Savonarola, not to judge him. Again Savonarola was put to the torture to see if any further information could be obtained about his plan of summoning a General Council. The commissaries were anxious to find out if he had any confederates amongst the Cardinals; but they discovered nothing. On May 22 they declared him and his two companions guilty of heresy and gave sentence against them. Then they were condemned to death by the magistrates, and Savonarola as a last favor was allowed to see his two friends and gave them his benediction. On the morning of May 23 they met to receive the viaticum, and Savonarola was permitted to communicate with his own hands. He knelt and professed his faith, asked pardon for his sins, and committed himself to God.

The scaffold had been erected in the Piazza de' Signori. The gibbet on its projecting arm bore three nooses and three chains, while underneath was a pile of wood to burn the bodies. When first the gibbet was erected it looked like a cross, and the Piagnoni murmured, “They are going to crucify him, like his Master”. One arm was sawn away to destroy the comparison.

The condemned descended the steps of the Palazzo, and were led to a tribunal where sat the Bishop who had been commissioned by the Pope to degrade them from their ecclesiastical rank. They were stripped of their vestments; their tonsures and their hands were scraped. The Bishop took Savonarola by the hand, and in the confusion of the moment made an error in the words of degradation. “I separate you”, he said, “from the Church militant and triumphant”. “Militant, not triumphant”, Savonarola corrected him; “that is not in your power”. “Amen”, said the Bishop; “may God lead you there”. Then they passed to the next tribunal where the papal commissioners read the sentence which condemned them as heretics, schismatics, and despisers of the Holy See. Remolino said, “His Holiness is pleased to deliver you from the pains of purgatory by granting you a plenary indulgence. Do you accept it?”. They bowed their heads in token of assent.

Next they were handed over to the civil power and were led to the last tribunal, where sat the magistrates, who condemned them to be hanged and their bodies burned. They moved onwards to the scaffold in silent prayer. Savonarola had enjoined on his companions that they should say nothing; he did not wish to justify himself in the eyes of men, or say anything which might cause a tumult. When a friend murmured words of comfort, Savonarola gently answered, “God only can console men at their last hour”.

Fra Silvestro was the first to suffer, exclaiming, “Lord, into Thy hands I commend my spirit”. Then Fra Domenico, with a face of joy, seemed not so much to go to death as to a festival. Last of all Savonarola cast his eyes for a moment over the assembled crowd, who still held their breath in suspense, hoping for some miracle. His lips moved, but nothing was audible. Then a suppressed murmur ran through the crowd as they saw his body hanging in the air. The corpses were hung in chains, and the pile below was fired. The ashes were gathered and were thrown into the Arno. Yet faithful souls scraped together some precious relics of the charred fragments; and three days afterwards women so far forgot their fear as to kneel in passionate devotion on the spot where their great teacher had been burned. In spite of persecution there were many who loved Savonarola because they knew what he had done for their souls. His books were eagerly read, biographies of him were written, his defence was passionately undertaken, the place of his execution was crowned with flowers on the anniversary of his death.

The last days of Savonarola’s life in prison were spent in writing a meditation on the fifty-first Psalm. This together with his other devotional writings enjoyed a wide popularity and went through many editions. It fell into the hands of Luther, who republished it in 1523, with a preface in which he claimed Savonarola as one of his predecessors in setting forth the doctrine of justification by faith only. He writes in his usual trenchant style: “Though the feet of this holy man are still soiled by theological mud, he nevertheless upheld justification by faith only without works, and therefore he was burned by the Pope. But he lives in blessedness and Christ canonises him by our means, even though Pope and Papists burst with rage”. It is not worthwhile to examine the grounds of Luther’s statement. Savonarola's words are full of ardent faith in Christ, but Luther’s position was far from his mind. He taught nothing which was opposed to the accepted doctrines of the Church; he never denied the papal headship, and he received submissively the plenary indulgence which Alexander VI granted him before his death. Savonarola was a great moral reformer, who was driven at the last to take up the position of an ecclesiastical reformer also; but he followed the lines of Gerson and Ailli, and wished to take up the work which the Council of Constance had failed to accomplish. His conception of moral reform led him into politics, and his political position brought him into collision with the Papacy. Rather than abandon his work he was prepared to face a conflict with the Papacy, but his enemies were too numerous and too watchful, and he fell before their combined force.

Savonarola's fate is a type of the dangers which beset a noble soul drawn by its Christian zeal into conflict with the world. More and more he was driven to fight the Lord’s battle with carnal weapons, till the prophet and the states­man became inextricably entangled, and the message of the new life was interwoven with the political attitude of the Florentine republic. Little by little he was driven into the open sea till his frail bark was swallowed by the tempest. He encouraged Florence to adhere to an untenable position till all who wished to bring Florence into union with Italian aspirations were drivento conspire for his downfall.

This great tragic interest of the lofty soul overborne in its struggle against the world has made Savonarola a favorite character for biography, romance, and devotional literature. But the historical importance of Savonarola goes deeper than the greatness of his personal character or his political importance. Savonarola made a last attempt to bring the New Learning into harmony with the Christian life. He strove to inspire the Florence of Lorenzo, Ficino, and Pico with the consciousness of a great spiritual mission to the world. He aimed at setting up a commonwealth of which Christ was the only king; animated by the zeal of a reformed Church, the State was to guide men’s aspirations towards a regenerate life. The individual force and passion of Savonarola was the offspring of the Renaissance, but it had to force its way to expression through the fetters of Scholasticism. Savonarola’s sermons present a strange contrast of the forcible utterance of personal feeling with the trivialities of an artificial method of exposition. He palpitates with the desire to reconcile conflicting tendencies and enter into a larger world. He falls back upon the mysterious utterances of prophecy to point men’s eyes to a larger future than he was able to define. His words are now vague to our ears, his political plans are seen to be dreams, his prophetic claims a delusion. But his character lives and is powerful as of one who strove to restore the harmony of man’s distracted life.

It is unjust to represent Alexander as the chief author of Savonarola’s ruin; but he gave his sanction at the last to the schemes of Savonarola's foes. It is needless to discuss the technical points at issue between Savonarola and the Pope; it is enough that the papal policy in Italy demanded the destruction of a noble effort to make Christianity the animating principle of life. Even a Pope so purely secular as Alexander is said in later years to have regretted Savonarola’s death; Julius II ordered Raffaelle to place him amongst the Doctors of the Church in his Disputa; and his claims to canonization were more than once discussed. The Church silently grieved over his loss when he was gone, when political difficulties had passed away, and the memory of the fervent preacher of righteousness alone remained.

CHAPTER IX.

ALEXANDER VI AND THE PAPAL STATES

1495—1499

In following the fate of Savonarola we have seen the reluteness with which Alexander pursued one great object of his policy, the union of Italy to resist French intervention. A second object which employed his care was the reduction of the Roman barons so as to secure the peace of the Papal States. Alexander had felt his helplessness before the advance of Charles, and had learned how many enemies he had to face at his own doors. The feeble rule of Innocent VIII had reversed the resolute measures of Sixtus IV. Ostia was held against the Pope; the Orsini castles threatened him on every side; Rome itself was a scene of constant feuds, and brawls and assassinations were common in its streets.

The first measure of Alexander was to strengthen the fortifications of the Castle of S. Angelo and connect it more readily with the Vatican. He first gave it the appearance of a mediaeval castle, with walls, towers, and ditches of defence. He caused the houses which had clustered round it to be pulled down, and laid out the street now called the Borgo Nuovo which leads from it to the Vatican. These works, which took some years to complete, were begun in 1495, and were a heavy drain on the papal treasury.

He next proceeded to strengthen himself in the College of Cardinals, where he had many enemies and where he encountered much opposition to his plans. On February 19, 1496, he announced the creation of four new Cardinals, all Spaniards, and one his nephew, Giovanni Borgia. As this raised the number of Spanish Cardinals to nine, much discontent was expressed, and many efforts were made to induce the Pope to create some Italian Cardinals. The Marquis of Mantua offered 16,000 ducats to have the dignity conferred upon his brother; but Alexander steadily refused. He had seen the dangers to which the Papacy was exposed from the introduction of the political jealousies of Italy into its councils. It was enough that the Sforza and the Medici were already powerful in Rome, and that Cardinal Rovere led a political party of his own. Alexander VI was ready to meet his enemies with their own weapons. He was resolved to form a strong party which had no connection with Italian politics, and he was willing to face the unpopularity of pursuing an independent line of action.

The downfall of the French power in Naples afforded Alexander an opportunity of striking a blow at the Roman barons who had sided with the French king. Ferrante II was aided in expelling the French by the troops of Spain under the leadership of the great general, Gonsalvo de Cordova. Gonsalvo’s military skill and the awakened patriotism of the Neapolitans rapidly prevailed against the French, who received no reinforcements from home. In August, 1496, their last stronghold, Atella, capitulated; its garrison undertook to depart from the kingdom, and a general amnesty was declared. Amongst those included in this capitulation was Virginio, the head of the Orsini house, who would fain have embarked with the French, but Ferrante, at the Pope’s request, kept him as prisoner. Alexander had prepared measures against the Orsini. On June 1 he declared them rebels against the Church and confiscated their goods; he summoned to his aid Guidubaldo, Duke of Urbino, proclaimed the young Duke of Gandia Gonfaloniere of the Church, and appointed the Cardinal of Lanate as his legate for the war. On October 26 the Pope blessed the standard which he handed to his son, and next day the papal army set out from Rome.

At first the papal arms were successful, and ten castles of Orsini were captured within a month ; but a determined resistance was offered by Bracciano, which was strong in its position on the lake. Bartolommea Orsini, Virginio’s sister, showed masculine daring in baffling the besiegers, who suffered from exposure to the winter weather. Moreover, she amused herself at their expense. One day a donkey was driven out of the castle bearing a placard, “Let me pass, for I go as ambassador to the Duke of Gandia”; underneath its tail was fastened a letter full of bitter mockery. The siege of Bracciano was raised in January, as the troops of the Orsini threatened Rome. At last, on January 23, 1497, a battle was fought by Soriano in which the Orsini were completely victorious. The Duke of Urbino was taken prisoner; the Duke of Gandia was wounded in the face; he and Cardinal Lanate with difficulty escaped to Rome.

The position of Alexander was now precarious. The troops of the Orsini laid waste the Campagna and cut off supplies from the city. Ostia, which commanded the approach by sea, was garrisoned by French troops. Alexander turned for help to Gonsalvo de Cordova, who was sitting idly in Naples; but the Venetian envoys urged upon him the need of peace with the Orsini, and on February 5 an agreement was made. Anguillara and Cervetri were given up to the Pope, and the Orsini were to retain the rest of their possessions on paying 50,000 ducats. Those who were in prison at Naples were to be released; but this stipulation did not affect Virginio, who had died in prison a few weeks before. The Pope paid no heed to his captive ally, the Duke of Urbino, who was left to negotiate his own ransom. The Pope was shameless enough to leave the Orsini a victim from whom they might extort the money which they were to pay to him. The Duke of Urbino was childless, and Alexander already coveted his domains for one of his own sons.

Alexander’s first attempt at recovering the Papal States had not been successful. He hoped for better things from his next enterprise. On February 19 Gonsalvo de Cordova came to Rome and undertook the reduction of Ostia, which was bravely defended by a Biscayan corsair, Menaldo de Guerra. Gonsalvo took with him 600 Spanish horse and 1000 foot, so badly armed and equipped that the Italians laughed at their poor appearance. Gonsalvo answered, “They are so naked that the enemy has nothing to gain from them”. Ostia capitulated, and on March 15 Gonsalvo was welcomed with a revival of the old Roman triumph. Before him rode Menaldo in chains; he himself was escorted by the Duke of Gandia and the Pope’s son-in-law, Giovanni of Pesaro. The procession swept along to the Vatican, where Alexander received them seated on his throne. Menaldo threw himself before the Pope and asked for pardon; Alexander made him no answer, but presently turning to Gonsalvo, left the fate of the captive in his hands. Gonsalvo was generous and gave him his liberty.

Alexander went the next day to Ostia to settle the affairs of his new possession. He bestowed on Gonsalvo every mark of his gratitude; but the haughty Spaniard refused on Palm Sunday to receive a palm from the Pope’s hand because it was offered to him after the Duke of Gandia.

The Romans, so soon as the fear of their foes at Ostia was removed, looked with displeasure on the Spanish Pope with his Spanish army, and the solemnities of Holy Week were marred by riots between the Spanish soldiers and the people, who even threatened to stone the Pope as he went in procession through the streets. Gonsalvo did not care to stay long in the ungrateful city, and went back to Naples at the end of March.

The Neapolitan restoration and the capture of Ostia restored Alexander to power, and he was resolved to assert it. The Cardinals of the French party, Colonna and Savelli, returned to Rome; Orsini no longer dared to oppose the Pope; Rovere preferred exile to submission. The Cardinal of Gurk was ordered to return to Rome or confine himself to his diocese of Foligno; he stayed at Foligno, protesting to the Florentine ambassador that he was not bound to follow the Pope to do evil. “When I think”, he said, “on the life of the Pope and some of the Cardinals, I have a horror of the court of Rome, and have no wish to return till God reforms His Church”.

A bystander might indeed be pardoned for feeling some doubts about the Pope’s intentions. The incidents of the life of his family gave rise to much scandal, and it was quite clear that the Pope was not careful of his own reputation or of the reputation of his office. In Holy Week men’s tongues were set wagging by the sudden flight from Rome of Giovanni Sforza, lord of Pesaro, Lucrezia Borgia’s husband. He went, on the pretext of performing his religious duties, to the Church of S. Onofrio, outside the Porta Romana. There a swift horse was ready for him; he mounted and rode in haste to Pesaro, leaving his wife at Rome. The reason for this strange departure was not at first known; presently it appeared that there was a question of Giovanni’s divorce from Lucrezia on the ground of impotence. Giovanni resisted the Pope’s proposals that he should consent to a divorce, and judged it wise to leave Rome before the pressure became irresistible. He was a weak man, and had not been of much use to the Pope's policy; Alexander was desirous of a more influential son-in-law. Giovanni Sforza gave out that he was in fear of his life, and trembled before the threats of Cardinal Cesare. What was Lucrezia’s attitude towards her husband we do not know; in the beginning of June she retired from Rome to the Convent of S. Sisto, preferring to remain in quiet till the matter was settled.

Meanwhile Alexander pursued his policy of aggrandizing his sons. Ferrante II of Naples died childless and was succeeded by his uncle, Federigo, Prince of Altamura. The Pope used the opportunity afforded by the demand for his coronation to revive some old claims of the Papacy; he erected Benevento into a duchy, comprising also Terracina and Pontecorvo, and conferred the duchy on the Duke of Gandia. None of the Cardinals dared to oppose him, save Cardinal Piccolomini, whose remonstrances were seconded by the Spanish ambassador. Even the opposition of all the Cardinals did not prevent the Pope from nominating his son Cesare as legate for the coronation. He resolutely sought the advancement of his children, and held everything else as secondary to that object.

The Pope’s schemes were doomed to a terrible disappointment, and Rome was suddenly startled by the news of the death of the Duke of Gandia by a mysterious murder. On the evening of June 14 he had gone to sup with his mother Vanozza in her house by the church of S. Pietro in Vincula. There was a large party, amongst whom were the Cardinals Cesare and Giovanni Borgia. It was night when the Duke of Gandia and Cesare mounted their horses, accompanied by a small retinue. When they arrived at the Palazzo Cesarini, where Cardinal Ascanio Sforza lived, the Duke of Gandia took leave of his brother, saying that he had some private business to transact. He dismissed all his attendants save one, and followed a masked figure, who had for the last month frequently visited him at the Vatican, and who had come to speak with him that night during supper. He turned back to the Piazza Giudea, and there ordered his one attendant to wait for him; if he did not soon return he was to make his way back to the Vatican. Then he took the masked figure on his mule and rode away. The servant, as he waited for his master, was attacked by armed men, from whom he with difficulty escaped with his life and was left speechless. In the morning the Pope was uneasy at his son’s absence, but supposed that he had gone on some amorous intrigue and did not wish to leave the lady’s house in daylight. But when the night did not bring him back Alexander grew seriously alarmed, and sent the police to make inquiries. They found a Slavonian wood seller who gave them some information. He plied his trade on the Ripetta, near the Ospedale degli Sciavoni. He had unladen his cargo, and to protect his wares from theft was sleeping in the boat, which was moored by the bank. He saw two men, about one o'clock in the morning, peer cautiously from the street on the left of Ospedale. When they saw no one they returned, and were followed by two others who used equal caution. Seeing no one they made a sign. A horseman then came forward, riding on a white horse. Behind him was a corpse with the head hanging down on one side and the legs on the other; it was held in its place by the two men who had first appeared. They went to a spot where rubbish was shot into the Tiber, and there the horse was backed towards the river. The two men on foot seized the corpse and flung it into the water. The horseman asked if it had sunk, and was answered “Yes, sir”. He looked round and saw the mantle floating on the surface, and one of the men pelted it with stones till it sank; then they all went away.

When this story was told to the Pope, he asked why the wood seller had not informed the police. The answer was that he had seen in his days a hundred corpses thrown into the river in that spot, and no questions had been asked about them. It was a terrible testimony to the condition of Rome under the papal government.

The fishermen and sailors of the Tiber were set to work to search the river. They discovered the body of the Duke of Gandia, with the throat cut, and eight wounds upon the head, legs, and body. He was fully dressed, and in his pocket was his purse containing thirty ducats. The corpse was placed on a barge and was conveyed to the Castle of S. Angelo, and thence was carried to the Church of S. Maria del Popolo, where it lay in state.

When Alexander heard that his son was dead, and thrown like dirt into the river, he gave way to passionate grief. He shut himself up in his chamber, and would admit no one. His terrified attendants stood by the door and listened to his sobs; for three days he refused all food. Inquiries were made throughout Rome; but nothing was discovered which could throw any light upon the murderers. Rumours were rife and many were suspected. Some accused the Orsini, especially Bartolommeo de Alviano, others Giovanni Sforza of Pesaro, whose flight from Rome was explained on the most abominable grounds. Others again considered that Cardinal Ascanio Sforza was the author of this act of vengeance, being irritated against the Duke of Gandia for having caused the assassination of his chamberlain, whose free speaking had given offence. Ascanio was so much alarmed at the rumour about himself that he did not venture into the Pope's presence.

On June 19 the Pope appeared in a Consistory, and received the condolences of all the Cardinals, except Ascanio Sforza. The Pope spoke with difficulty: "The Duke of Gandia is dead. Our grief is inexpressible because we loved him dearly. We no longer value the Papacy or anything else. If we had seven Papacies we would give them all to restore him to life. Perhaps God has punished us for some sin; it is not because he deserved so cruel a death. It is said that the lord of Pesaro has killed him; we are sure that it is not so. Of the Prince of Squillace it is incredible. We are sure also of the Duke of Urbino. God pardon whoever it be. For ourselves we can attend to nothing, neither the Papacy nor our life. We think only of the Church and its government. For this purpose we institute a commission of six Cardinals, with two auditors of the Rota, to set to work for its reformation, to see that benefices are given solely by merit, and that you Cardinals have your share in the councils of the Church".

Then the Spanish ambassador rose and explained the absence of Cardinal Ascanio; he was afraid of the rumours that he, as the head of the Orsini faction, had planned the Duke of Gandia’s murder. “God forbid”, said the Pope, “that I should suspect him, for I hold him as a brother”. Then the envoys in turn presented their condolences to the Pope, and all went away amazed at his good intentions.

Alexander wrote letters to all the princes of Europe, telling them of his loss and of his sorrow. He received letters of condolence from all sides, even from Savonarola and Cardinal Rovere, who expressed their sorrow and counselled Christian resignation to the Pope. For a time Alexander was sincere in his desire to act more worthily of his office. Men heard with astonishment of the proposals which the six commissioners for reform put forward. The sale of benefices was prohibited; they were to be conferred on worthy persons. The revenues of a Cardinal were not to exceed 6000 florins, nor their households to contain more than eighty persons. No Cardinal was to hold more than one bishopric; offenders against this rule were at once to choose which they would resign; pluralities were similarly forbidden to the inferior clergy. It was even proposed that the decrees of the Council of Constance should be made binding. There was also a noticeable provision that the Pope should maintain 500 foot and 3000 horse to chastise the subjects of the Church. These were admirable proposals, and would have been welcomed by Christendom with delight. But Alexander’s interest in ecclesiastical matters diminished with his sorrow. He was a man of quick and strong feelings. The blow at first crushed him, and he turned in his remorse to bethink himself of forgotten duties. But his natural disposition soon reasserted itself; he regained his self-control, and returned to his original plans. Reform of the Church meant loss of money, and money was above all things necessary for his political projects. The report of the reform commission was no sooner ready than it was set aside as derogatory to the privileges of the Papacy.

Every effort was made to discover the murderer of the Duke of Gandia, but without avail. The suspicions of the police were especially directed against Count Antonio della Mirandola, whose house was not far distant from the place where the body was found. He had a daughter who was famous for her beauty, and it was conjectured that she was the bait by which the mysterious visitor allured the duke to put himself unattended in his hands. But nothing definite was discovered, and it was agreed that the assassination was a masterpiece in its way. In the absence of any certainty, everyone was at liberty to form his own opinion about the murderer. Probably the most natural conjecture is the truest—that the Duke of Gandia fell a victim to the jealousy of some lover or husband whose honor he had attacked. The rumors current in Rome mentioned every one who might possibly have an interest in the Duke of Gandia’s death, amongst these his brother Jofre, Prince of Squillace, because he would presumably be his heir. When it appeared that Cardinal Cesare was to succeed to his place in the Pope's affections, rumor transferred the guilt to him. As Cesare became an object of dread in Italy men repeated this charge more constantly, and Guicciardini and Machiavelli have raised it to the dignity of an historical fact. But it was not preferred against Cesare till nearly nine months after the event, and it rests upon no better foundation than do the suspicions against the Orsini, Ascanio Sforza, Giovanni Sforza, Antonio della Mirandola, or Jofre Borgia. When so many rumors were afloat it is clear that they all rested on mere conjecture, and that it is impossible to pronounce any certain opinion.

In spite of the Pope’s assurance that he entirely acquitted Ascanio Sforza of any share in the murder, Ascanio judged it prudent to retire from Rome to Grottaferrata, and when on July 22 Cardinal Cesare Borgia set out for Naples to crown Federigo, all Rome was convinced of Ascanio’s guilt. Cesare performed with splendor his duties of legate, and crowned the last Aragonese King of Naples at Capua on August 10. His stay in the kingdom was a source of expense to the impoverished treasury, and Federigo was glad to see his costly guest depart. On September 6 Cesare was received by all the Cardinals and was escorted to the Vatican. Alexander was still so little master of himself that he could not trust himself to speak to his son, but greeted him in silence.

Perhaps it was due to Cesare’s influence that Alexander rapidly recovered his spirits and returned to his old plans, foremost amongst them the overthrow of the Orsini. He gathered troops, allied himself with the Colonna, and assumed such a threatening attitude that the Orsini sought the good offices of Venice. Venice warned the Pope that it took the Orsini under its protection, and Alexander sullenly gave way to its remonstrances. The Romans changed their opinion about the murderer of the Duke of Gandia, and now were sure that his death was the work of the Orsini.

Alexander at the same time steadily pursued his family policy. He enriched Cardinal Cesare with the benefices of Cardinals who died, while he matured a plan for releasing him from ecclesiastical obligations and opening to him the career which the Duke of Gandia’s death had left vacant. Similarly he prosecuted the divorce of Lucrezia from Giovanni of Pesaro, which had been referred to a commission presided over by two Cardinals. The alleged cause was Giovanni Sforza's impotence. Giovanni protested against it with all his might, as besides the ridicule which it threw upon him, it involved the restoration of Lucrezia’s dowry, 31,000 ducats. He went to Milan and implored Ludovico Il Moro to use his influence to prevent it. But Ludovico and his brother Ascanio had no wish to quarrel with the Pope; they rather urged Giovanni to give way and resign himself to what was inevitable. He was at last driven to sign a paper in which he owned that Lucrezia was still a virgin. But he revenged himself for his discomfiture by imputing to Alexander the most abominable motives for his conduct. The divorce was in itself a sufficiently scandalous proceeding, and everything concerning it was rapidly spread throughout Italy. Men made merry over the matter after the manner of the time. Alexander's family affairs had already become a subject of considerable amusement to the wits of the day. A refined, scurrilous, and profligate society could not have had a subject for conversation which suited them better. The accusations of Giovanni Sforza had an immediate success; they passed from mouth to mouth and lost nothing in the telling. Alexander was neither liked nor respected, but he was dreaded. He was exactly the man against whom scandalous stories were the only weapon available for his victims. From this time forward stories of incest and unnatural crime were rife about the Pope and his family. Alexander had done enough to make anything seem credible about him. He had outraged public opinion in every way, and the tongue of slander took its revenge. The death of the Duke of Gandia, the divorce of Lucrezia, the proposed dispensation of Cesare from the Cardinalate—all these following one another in a few months filled men with bewilderment and made them ready to catch at any explanation however monstrous it might be. In September these rumors had reached Rome and set men’s tongues wagging freely. We may agree with the sagacious judgment of the Venetian envoy in Rome. “Whatever may be the truth, one thing is certain : this Pope behaves in an outrageous and intolerable way”. It is bad enough that Alexander gave a colorable pretext to such slanders. The slanders themselves rest on no evidence that justifies an impartial mind in believing them.

The corruption of the papal court was notorious, and was deplored on all sides. Not only Savonarola, but a churchman like Petrus Delfinus, General of the Camaldolensians, longed for reform and hailed Alexander's temporary repentance with joyful expectancy. On every side were murmurs. Charles of France expressed his regret that he had not used his opportunity and summoned a Council. The Spanish princes sent envoys to remonstrate with the Pope on his disorderly life. The disorganization of the Curia was shown by the sudden arrest on September 14 of the Pope's secretary, Bartolommeo Florido, Archbishop of Cosenza, on the charge of forging papal briefs. He had trafficked in dispensations and exemptions, and was said to have issued as many as 3000 briefs on his own authority. One of them was issued in favor of a nun of the royal race of Portugal, and allowed her to leave the convent and marry a natural son of the late king. This act of audacity seems to have led to detection of the fraud, and Florido was induced to confess his crimes. He was degraded from his ecclesiastical offices and was condemned to perpetual imprisonment in a subterranean dungeon in the Castle of S. Angelo, where he was fed on bread and water, was supplied with oil for a lamp, and was allowed to have his breviary and a bible. He died after a few months' confinement.

Another mysterious death in Alexander's household again set men’s tongues wagging. On February 14,1498, the Pope’s favourite chamberlain, Piero Caldes, known as Perotto, was found drowned in the Tiber. Together with him, it was said, was the corpse of a maid in the service of Lucrezia. Again men darkly hinted that the drowned girl was a mistress of the Pope. In later times the death of Perotto was put down to Cesare Borgia, who is said to have killed with his own hand the wretched man, who clung to the Pope's mantle, while his blood spurted into the Pope’s face. Again we can trace the growth of an incredible story.

These frequent murders and the insecurity of life in Rome to some degree justify Alexander’s desire for a strong position, where he might put down disorder and feel secure. Rome was in utter anarchy and the Pope was helpless in his own city. The feud between the Orsini and the Colonna raged violently, and the Pope was powerless to keep the peace. Federigo of Naples had confiscated the Orsini fiefs in his kingdom and conferred them on the Colonna. The Orsini could not brook to see their rivals increase in power; both sides gathered armed men, and the Pope was driven at times to take refuge before their tumults in the Castle of S. Angelo. A desultory warfare was carried on in the Campagna, till on April 12, 1498, the Orsini met with a crushing defeat at Palombara. Both parties saw that a continuance of the struggle would only weaken themselves and benefit the Pope.' They refused his offers of mediation and made peace in July, on the understanding that they would both unite against the Pope, would ally with the King of Naples, and submit their disputes to his decision. The union of these rival houses was felt to be a severe blow against Alexander. Mocking verses were found attached to a column of the Vatican, bidding the Pope prepare to find another victim offered to the Tiber, as the rest of the Borgia family were to share the fate of the Duke of Gandia. The wits of Rome were certainly cruel.

Alexander frankly accepted the situation, and resolutely set himself to meet his enemies with their own weapons. In the precarious condition of Italian politics allies were not to be trusted unless their fidelity was secured by interested motives; so Alexander used the marriage connections of his family as a means to secure for himself a strong political party. He had no one whom he could trust save his own children, whom he regarded as instruments for his own plans. If Italian politics changed rapidly he was ready to change as rapidly as they. The spiritual office of the Papacy afforded him a safe mooring; he would use every opportunity that offered for increasing its temporal power. He was the first Pope who deliberately and consciously recognized the advantages to be reaped in politics from the papal office, and set himself to make the most of them. For this reason he inspired dread in the minds of Italian statesmen like Machiavelli. He was an incalculable force in politics; he was engaged in the same game as the rest of the players, but none of them knew the exact nature of his resources.

The nepotism of Alexander was not merely a passionate and unreasoning desire for the advancement of his family, but was founded on calculation and pursued with resoluteness. Marriage projects for Lucrezia were eagerly sought, and there were many rumors about their progress. The death of the Duke of Gandia made the Pope anxious to have another general whom he could trust; but Cesare’s resignation of the Cardinalate involved a considerable sacrifice. His ecclesiastical revenues amounted to 35,000 ducats yearly, and it was not easy to find an equally valuable position for a layman. Alexander's first thoughts turned to Naples. A firm alliance with Federigo would make him secure in Rome, and would enable him to deal with the overweening power of the Roman barons. He proposed Neapolitan marriages both for Lucrezia and Cesare; but Federigo had no love for the Pope and dreaded his interference in the affairs of his kingdom. However, after much pressure from the Duke of Milan he consented to the marriage of Lucrezia with Don Alfonso, Duke of Biseglia, a natural son of Alfonso II; and the marriage was quietly celebrated in the Vatican in August, 1498. But he steadfastly resisted the further proposal of the Pope that he should give his daughter Carlotta to Cesare Borgia. He said at last: "It does not seem to me that a Pope's son, who is a Cardinal, is in a position to marry my daughter, though he is the son of a Pope. Let him marry as a Cardinal and keep his hat; then I will give him my daughter".

While these negotiations were pending a change came over European politics owing to the death of Charles VIII of France. He died suddenly in April from striking his head against a low doorway in his new castle of Amboise, which he was erecting as a reminiscence of the splendor he had seen in Italy. He was succeeded by his distant cousin Louis, Duke of Orleans, who had so persistently urged his own claims to the duchy of Milan, as representing the old Visconti house. Louis XII was of mature years, and was likely to act more energetically than the feeble Charles. He showed a pacific temper in France, and said, "the king does not remember the wrongs done to the duke". He was careful and thrifty and showed from the beginning a resoluteness to assert his rights which filled Ludovico Sforza with alarm.

The downfall of Savonarola seemed to have secured the success of the Italian League against France. But the League held loosely together, and it needed very little to dissolve it. The Venetians and Ludovico Il Moro were mutually jealous, and each suspected the other of designs on Pisa; the Pope had little confidence in his Italian allies; Federigo of Naples was helpless; Maximilian had his grievances both against Milan and Venice. It was a question which of the allies should be first to use a new combination for his advantage.

Fortune favored Alexander. Louis XII had been married to Jeanne, youngest daughter of Louis XI, when she was a child of nine years old. She bore her husband no children, and there was nothing in common between them. On the other hand, Charles left a young widow of twenty-one, Anne of Brittany, whose hand carried with it the last great fief which was not yet consolidated with the French crown. Louis XII wished to put away his wife and marry Anne in her stead; and if ever the dissolution of a marriage could be justified on grounds of political expediency, the justification might be urged in this case. Alexander used the opportunity offered by the application for a divorce. He proposed a close alliance with France, and offered to send his son Cesare to negotiate further. He left Cesare’s marriage projects in the hands of Louis XII, and employed Cardinal Rovere, who was at Avignon, to prepare the way for his proposals. It is a sign of the astuteness of Alexander's policy that his determined enemy found it useless any longer to oppose him. Cardinal Rovere had urged Charles VIII to invade Italy, to summon a Council and depose the Pope; he had garrisoned Ostia to be a thorn in Alexander's side, and had retired haughtily to France. Alexander had escaped all Cardinal Rovere’s designs against him; he had taken Ostia, and thereby diminished the Cardinal's income, though he made some restitution and offered to restore Ostia if the Cardinal would return to Rome. Rovere found himself neglected in France; he was weary of his hopeless isolation, and judged it well to seek reconciliation with the Pope while he might still have something to offer. Alexander was not vindictive. He agreed to restore Ostia and receive the Cardinal into his favor, provided that he acted as his agent at the French court.

The Pope entertained great hopes of the fruits of a French alliance, and gathered money to equip Cesare in splendor for his embassy. When he showed some care for ecclesiastical discipline, men said that he was moved by a desire to extort money from the culprits. The Marrani who were expelled from Spain flocked to Rome, and spread their heresies even in the papal court. In April, 1498, the aged Bishop of Calagorra, steward of the Pope’s household, was accused of heresy and was committed to prison. The charge against him was that he had relapsed into Judaism and denied the Christian revelation. In July 300 Marrani did public penance. Men laughed in Rome and said that all this was done to provide for Cesare’s outfit.

At last Cesare’s preparations were made. In a secret Consistory on August 17 he rose and said that from his earliest years he had been inclined to secular pursuits; at the Pope’s earnest wish he had become a churchman, had received deacon’s orders, and had been laden with benefices; as he still found that the bent of his mind was secular, he besought the Pope to dispense him from his ecclesiastical obligations, and asked the Cardinals to agree to his request. They readily consented to leave the matter in the Pope’s hands. The dispensation followed in due form, and Alexander declared that he granted it for the salvation of Cesare’s soul. It might be retorted that he should have considered that object before raising him to a position for which he was unfitted. On October 1, Cesare, magnificent in cloth of gold, set out from Rome on his journey to France. He took with him 200,000 ducats in money and in splendid attire.

Cesare’s progress was marked with royal state. On December 18 he entered Chinon, where was the French king, with grandeur which long lived in the memory of the French. His robe was stiff with jewels; his steed’s trappings were of finely wrought gold. Louis XII laughed at this vainglory and foolish boasting, and turned at once to business. The Pope's commissioners granted a dispensation from his marriage with Jeanne of France; and Cesare Borgia brought with him a Cardinal’s hat for the king’s favourite, George of Amboise, Archbishop of Rouen, who received it on December 21 from the hands of Cardinal Rovere as the Pope's legate. Cesare had already received from the French king part of the reward of the Pope’s compliance with his wishes. He had been invested with the counties of Valentinois and Diois, to which the Papacy had a long-standing claim on the ground of their bequest to the Church by the last Dauphin. There remained, however, the question of Cesare’s marriage. He was still anxious to have for his wife Carlotta, daughter of Federigo of Naples, that thereby he might have a claim upon the Neapolitan throne. Federigo had refused; but Carlotta, who was the daughter of a French princess, was in France, and Cesare hoped to win her through the influence of the French king. Carlotta, however, remained firm in her refusal, sorely to the dismay of the Pope, who complained to Cardinal Rovere that he was made a laughing stock by this failure of his plans. In his disappointment he threatened to abandon the French alliance and join with Milan, Naples, and Spain. To pacify him, Louis offered Cesare a further choice of two French princesses, nieces of his own, the daughter of the Count of Foix or the sister of the King of Navarre. Cesare chose the beautiful Charlotte d'Albret, a girl of sixteen years. It was some time before the preliminaries of the marriage could be arranged, and Cesare had to undertake that a Cardinal's hat should be bestowed on Aimon d'Albret, Charlotte’s brother. At last, on May 22, 1499, Alexander announced to the Cardinals that the marriage had been celebrated, and Rome blazed with bonfires at the news, “to the great scandal”, says Burchard, “of the Church and the Apostolic seat”.

The good understanding between Alexander and France was viewed with alarm by other powers, and led to remonstrance with the Pope. Ascanio Sforza saw his brother menaced in Milan, and feared for his own influence in Rome. Alexander never discouraged plain speaking, and was ready to answer with equal plainness. In a Consistory in December, 1498, Ascanio told the Pope that his French alliance would be the ruin of Italy. Alexander answered, “It was your brother who first summoned the French”. Warm words passed between them, and Ascanio went away threatening to call on Maximilian and Spain to join in convoking a General Council. The threat of a Council was now a common device in Italian politics, and Alexander knew its futility. His ecclesiastical position was entirely secondary to his political importance, and so long as he had a place in the combinations of Italian affairs he was safe enough. He did not even show any resentment against Ascanio. He was not the man to strike one whose doom was being prepared by others.

The remonstrances of Spain were more serious than those of Cardinal Ascanio. The Spanish sovereigns were not strong enough to oppose the schemes of Louis XII in Italy, and judged it prudent to make a treaty of neutrality with France. But they hoped that the Italian powers would unite in resisting him, and were alarmed at his alliance with the Pope. The Spanish envoy, Garcilasso de la Vega, presented a letter from his sovereigns on December 18, in which they complained of the corruption of the papal court, and hinted at the summons of a Council. The Pope angrily answered that they were misled by false information sent by their ambassador from Rome. Garcilasso went on to refer to the promises held out by the Pope after the death of the Duke of Gandia, and their failure before his scheme for promoting Cesare. Alexander with increasing bitterness said: “Your royal house has been afflicted by God, who has deprived it of posterity; this is because they have laid impious hands on the possessions of the Church”. In January, 1499, there was a still more stormy scene. Alexander tried to tear the paper from Garcilasso’s hands, and threatened to have him thrown into the Tiber; he accused Queen Isabella of unchastity. The envoys wished to make a formal protest in the Pope’s presence, but were not allowed.

Alexander knew himself to be strong enough to defy remonstrances. His league with France was joined by Venice, which wished to have a share of the dominions of Milan and to rid itself of a troublesome neighbor. Their alliance with France was secretly sworn on February 9, and was published on April 15. Cesare Borgia was present at the ceremony, and Cardinal Rovere held the missal on which the oath was taken. It was an eventful moment for Italy. The gates were opened by her own hand for foreign intervention, and the knell of Italian independence was sounded. The self-seeking of Venice and the desire of the Pope for a strong ally overpowered all larger considerations. There was no national feeling, no sense of patriotism or of consistency. Savonarola had been sacrificed that the French might be shut out of Italy; now the very men who worked for his overthrow adopted his politics which they had condemned. The Italian League had faded away. Old foes were reconciled by new motives of self-interest. Cardinal Rovere had sought French help to drive Alexander from his seat; when that failed, he aided Alexander to seek the help of France to establish himself more securely.

Alexander, however, did not openly declare his alliance with France, but watched the progress of Cesare’s marriage projects with uneasiness. Even after he was satisfied on that score, his attitude was so ambiguous that it was not till July 14 that Ascanio Sforza became certain of his hostility. He fled from Rome in the early morning, pretending to be going out hunting, and made his way to Milan, where his brother Ludovico was making preparations to resist his foes. Ludovico was cunning and vainglorious; but he mistook craft and self-assertion for statesmanship. After the retreat of Charles VIII he had exulted in the success of his schemes. He boasted that he had the Pope for his chaplain, the Venetians for his treasurers, Maximilian for his condottiere general, and the King of France for his messenger to come and go at his pleasure. Now in the hour of his peril Ludovico found himself without allies. Federigo of Naples was trembling for himself; Maximilian was engaged in war against the Swiss; Florence was still busied with Pisa. The only device that Ludovico could find was the dastardly plan of instigating the Turks to make a diversion in his favour. This helped him little. When the French troops advanced on the west, and the Venetians on the east, Ludovico could offer no resistance. The cities in his territory opened their gates to the invaders. Only the citadel of Milan professed to hold out, and that was betrayed by its commander. Ludovico fled into the Tyrol, and on October 6 Louis XII entered Milan amidst the joyous shouts of the crowd. With him rode the Duke of Valentinois and Cardinal Rovere, both prepared to reap what advantage they could from the success of France.

Alexander VI meanwhile was engaged in adjusting his plans to match the change of his political attitude. The Neapolitan marriage of Lucrezia was now of no use to him, and his son-in-law the Prince of Biseglia felt himself out of place in the Vatican. Early in August he secretly left Rome and went to Naples, whence he sent word to the Pope that he could not stay in the Vatican, which was filled with partisans of France who spoke ill of the Neapolitans. Federigo summoned also the Prince of Squillace and his Neapolitan wife to return to their possessions. The Pope sent away Dona Sancia and refused to give her any money for the journey; the Prince of Squillace stayed at Rome. The Neapolitan marriages were now a trouble to the Pope. Lucrezia needed her husband's care and wept over his absence; to distract her mind and make Alfonso's return more easy, Alexander on August 8 appointed his daughter regent of Spoleto. Spoleto was one of the few cities in the Papal States which had not fallen under a tyranny, but was governed by a papal legate, generally a Cardinal. Alexander was so heedless of precedent or decorum that he did not scruple to send as its governor a girl of nineteen, his own daughter. He was absolutely unfettered by the traditions of his office; and others did not feel bound to be more careful of his reputation than he was himself.

Soon the Pope gave another sign of his affection for his daughter. Ascanio Sforza was driven to resign his office as regent of Nepi, and Nepi also was conferred on Lucrezia. Her husband rejoined her at Spoleto, and on September 25 Alexander left Rome to meet Alfonso and Lucrezia at Nepi, whither she went to take possession. In the middle of October Lucrezia returned to Rome, where she gave birth to a son on November 1. This event seems to have reconciled the Pope and his son-in-law; and the brilliant life of the papal household was happily resumed.

CHAPTER X

ALEXANDER VI AND CESARE BORGIA

1500-1502.

The plan which Alexander VI had most deeply at heart was the centralization of the States of the Church. It was no new scheme, but had forced itself on the attention of his predecessors. The States of the Church during the Middle Ages had shared the same fate as the lands of the rest of Europe; they had been granted out to vassals, who had tended to become independent rulers, and during the Avignonese Captivity, Cardinal Albornoz had seen no better way of maintaining the papal authority than by recognizing the position won by these vassal lords. The abasement of the Papacy, the Great Schism, and the Reforming Councils had still further strengthened the Pope’s vassals; and the restored Papacy enjoyed only a nominal sovereignty over the greater part of its dominions, as the power of the Malatesta hampered Pius II and Paul II. When Sixtus IV found no other object for the Papacy to pursue, he turned to the extension of the temporal power. But the entire result of his passionate endeavors was to form Imola and Forli into a principality for his nephew Girolamo. The feeble pontificate of Innocent VIII let slip all that the Papacy had gained; and Alexander VI, in a time when the air was full of political changes, had to consider what object he had best pursue.

The French invasion had startled Italy, but had not kindled any spirit of national patriotism. The Italian League had fallen to pieces, and each state pursued its separate interests as keenly as before. The Papacy had to choose whether it would strive to centralize its power or would submit to see its vassals fall before their more powerful neighbors. The fertile district of the Romagna was a network of small principalities, on which Venice, Milan, and Florence all cast a hungry eye. So long as the balance of Italian politics was maintained, they were secure; but if, by any chance, Venice, Milan, and Florence were agreed upon a partition, the Papacy would be helpless to prevent it. Alexander VI was resolved to obviate this danger, to rid the Papacy of its troublesome vassals, and reduce the Romagna to one principality directly under the Church.

It was hopeless for a Pope to undertake this task himself, if, indeed, Alexander VI had wished to do so. We need not analyses his motives, or determine how much was due to policy, how much to a desire to aggrandize his family. Nepotism has a deservedly hateful name; but by no other means could a Pope accomplish his object. The Romagna must be won by one who had his heart in the work, and by one whom the Pope could entirely trust. Pius II had not done much with Antonio Piccolomini; Sixtus IV had only raised Girolamo Riario to a small position; the Cibo family had been altogether without resources. Alexander VI felt that he and Cesare were made of other stuff, and that the times were in his favor. There was nothing exceptional in his undertaking; he only pursued his end more entirely, more resolutely, and more successfully than his predecessors. The end and the means alike had become a recognized part of the papal policy; only when, in the hands of Alexander VI and Cesare Borgia, they seemed likely to be accomplished, did they awaken universal terror. Italy quailed at the prospect of a powerful state in the centre, which was backed by the far-reaching influence of the Papacy, and could thereby command foreign allies at any emergency. Churchmen were terrified at the danger of the Papacy being made dependent on a powerful Duke of the Romagna. The fruitful and sturdy stock of the Borgia swarmed in Rome, and the Papacy might become hereditary in the Borgian family. Few were far-sighted enough to see at first the full meaning of Alexander VI’s policy; but all were made uneasy, and every step in the development of that policy revealed its bearing more clearly and produced deeper-seated alarm and hatred.

So soon as the French success in Milan was rendered probable, Alexander VI proceeded to pave the way for his plans. He sent Cardinal Borgia as his legate to Florence and Venice, to see if they would consent to an attack on the duchy of Ferrara. Both gave guarded answers in the negative. The Pope saw that he had nothing to expect from the Italian powers, and proceeded to act more cautiously with the aid of France. After the fall of Ludovico Sforza, neither Florence nor Venice could object to the expulsion of his relatives from their possessions in the Romagna, where Cesena was the sole town which remained in the hands of the Church. Taking that as a centre, Cesare might extend his dominion over Imola, Forli, and Pesaro. The better to disarm opposition he accepted the title of Vicegerent of the French king, and was supplied with French troops for his enterprise.

Little was as yet known of the character or capacity of Cesare Borgia. As a Cardinal he had led a tolerably profligate life; but that was no rare occurrence amongst the members of the Sacred College. His journey to France showed a pretentiousness which was somewhat wanting in taste; but Cardinal Rovere wrote to the Pope in January that his “modesty, prudence, dexterity, and excellence both of mind and body, had won the affections of all”. In Milan, so good an observer as Bernardo Castiglione, the author of Il Cortegiano, described him as a gallant youth. It was yet to be seen what capacities he had for the political task which lay before him.

The first cities singled out for attack were Imola and Forli, which were held by Caterina Sforza, widow of Girolamo Riario, as regent for her young son. So entirely was Cardinal Rovere on the side of the Pope, that he became bond for Cesare to the city of Milan for a loan of 45,000 ducats; and this was to help Cesare to overthrow the son of his own cousin, for whom his uncle Sixtus IV had made such sacrifices. In addition to his Italian troops, Cesare had 300 French lances and 4000 Gascons and Swiss. Imola at once opened its gates, and the town of Forli surrendered; but Caterina Sforza bravely held out in the fortress till it was no longer tenable, and was stormed on January 12, 1500. Caterina Sforza was made prisoner, but was treated with leniency. She was sent to Rome, where she was lodged at first in the Belvedere of the Vatican. She refused to resign her claims to the lands of which she had been dispossessed, and attempted to escape. This led to her more rigorous confinement; but after eighteen months’ imprisonment she was set at liberty, and ended her days in a monastery in Florence. She had married as her second husband Giovanni de' Medici, of the younger branch of that family, but became in 1498 a second time a widow. By her second husband she left a son, Giovanni de' Medici, known as Giovanni delle Bande Nere, who was famous in later Florentine history.

Cesare’s joy at the capture of Forli was dashed by the news of the death of his cousin, Cardinal Borgia, on January 16. He was on his way to Rome and had reached Urbino, when he was attacked by a fever. His fever seemed to be mending, but when he heard the news of the fall of Forli he mounted his horse to go and congratulate Cesare in person. He reached Fossombrone, where he had a serious relapse of his fever and died. Suspicions were so rife that there were rumors of foul play, and in later times it was said that Cesare had him poisoned because he feared his influence with the Pope. This also is one of the groundless rumors which were spread against the Borgia.

After his success at Forli Cesare prepared to set out against Pesaro; but his plans were overthrown by Return of a sudden change in the affairs of Milan. As usual the French could conquer but could not govern, and their arrogance disgusted their new subjects, who found that they had exchanged one tyranny for another that was less tolerable. Ludovico Sforza hired a body of Swiss mercenaries and advanced into his old dominions, where his arrival was greeted with joy by the fickle people. His duchy had been quickly lost and was as quickly won; in February he and Ascanio again entered Milan in triumph.

At the news of the advance of Ludovico the French troops were withdrawn from Cesare'’ army, and he was left with only a small force. He vainly asked for help from the Venetians, who were not sorry to see the Pope’s ambitious schemes so rapidly checked. Cesare was driven to abandon all hopes of further conquest for the present, and on February 26 he returned to Rome, where the Pope ordered all the Cardinals to greet him with a triumphal entry. Clad in black velvet with a gold chain round his neck, and attended by 200 squires leading horses caparisoned in black velvet, amidst the blare of trumpets he rode to the Vatican, where the Pope received him with joy. Cesare addressed his father in Spanish and was answered in the same tongue, which perplexed the bystanders and made them feel that aliens were in the midst of Italy. The Pope was so overcome with joy that he laughed and cried at once. He loaded Cesare with honors, solemnly instituted him Gonfaloniere of the Church, and conferred on him the golden rose. The festivities of the Carnival were made splendid by a representation of the triumph of Julius Caesar in the Piazza Navona. Cesare was set side by side with the mighty founder of the Roman Empire.

The year 1500 was a year of jubilee. Alexander VI in due state had struck with a silver mallet the Golden Gate of S. Peter’s, which was only opened at those times. Its exact position could not be found with certainty, and a new gate was made by Alexander VI’s orders, with sculptured lintels, so that its place might be visible even when walled up. Alexander VI, with stately appearance and dignified bearing, delighted in ceremonies. Few Popes were more ready for public appearances, or more scrupulously performed the external duties of their office. Pilgrims from every land flocked to Rome, that they might earn the indulgences granted to those who visited the tombs of the Apostles. The disturbed state of Northern Italy and the insecurity of the roads deterred many; but the crowds who came testified to the deep hold which religion still had on Christendom, and to the veneration which still existed for the Holy See. On Holy Thursday it was computed that 100,000 were assembled for the public benediction. “I rejoice”, wrote Peter Delphinus, General of the Camaldolensians, “that the Christian religion does not lack the testimony of pious minds, especially in these times of failing faith and depravity of morals. ‘I have left’, saith the Lord, ‘7000 men who have not bowed the knee to Baal’.”

Yet the pious minds that went to Rome can hardly have been much edified, apart from their religious observances, by the stories they heard or the sights they saw. The Romans, no doubt, told them many scandalous tales about the Pope and his family. Those who saw the triumphal entry of Cesare Borgia would be reminded of the temporal ambition rather than of the spiritual zeal of the Papacy, Rome itself would not strike them as a well-ordered or as a moral city. Brawls were common in the streets, and crimes of blood were frequent. One day in May eighteen corpses swung upon a gallows on the Bridge of S. Angelo. Thirteen of them were members of a robber band which had stripped the French envoy at Viterbo on his way to Rome. But a notable criminal was a doctor of the hospital of S. Giovanni in Laterano, who used in the early morning to shoot with arrows those who passed along the empty streets, and then rob their dead bodies. He further had an understanding with the confessor of the hospital, who told him which of the sick were wealthy; he poisoned them and shared their spoils with his confederate. Sights too of secular splendor were displayed to the pilgrims’ eyes. One day there was a duel on Monte Testaccio between a Burgundian and a Frenchman; the Princess of Squillace backed one of the combatants and Cesare Borgia backed the other. Another day the Piazza of S. Peter’s was enclosed with barriers; six bulls were let loose into the ring, and Cesare Borgia gave the Romans an exhibition of Spanish fashions. Mounted on horseback he slew five with his lance, and cleft off the head of the sixth with one stroke of his sword.

The figure of Cesare Borgia now dominated Rome. He was tall, handsome, well-made, full of energy and vigour. The Borgia nature pulsed with the joy of living. Cesare delighted in enjoying himself and was ready to contribute to the enjoyment of others. Himself magnificent, he was liberal in his gifts, and the Pope vainly strove to check his extravagance. Fortune again smiled upon his plans. No sooner was Ludovico Sforza in possession of Milan than he again lost it, and this time for ever. The French troops advanced against Milan, and on April 10 Ludovico’s Swiss mercenaries betrayed him into the hands of his enemies. His brother Ascanio was taken prisoner by the Venetians. Alexander VI demanded that he should be given up to him; but the Venetians preferred to hand him over to the French king. Ludovico was imprisoned in the Castle of Loches in Berry; Ascanio at Bourges. The Pope made some show of interceding on behalf of a Cardinal; but he allowed the man who made him Pope to linger in a French prison. The fate of the Sforza brothers awakens little sympathy. Crafty, unscrupulous, unprincipled, they plunged light-heartedly into intrigues which they mistook for statesmanship. Their combinations were short-sighted; their self-confidence was overweening; their selfishness was utter. They led Italy to destruction, and were the first victims of the storm which themselves had raised.

Alexander VI rejoiced over the entire downfall of the Sforza house, which opened out the career of Cesare; but Cesare was reminded that he must make haste to secure himself, as his prospects hung upon a thread. Alexander VI’s life was uncertain. His physical constitution, though robust, was exceptional, and his life was often in peril, as he was liable to fainting fits which might at any time lead to a serious accident. In April he had a severe attack of fever which threatened his life. On June 27 he had a miraculous escape from destruction. A violent thunderstorm burst over Rome, and the wind blew down a chimney in the Vatican, which fell through the roof, wrecked the room below, and burst through the floor, sweeping amid the ruins three attendants who were killed. The mass of masonry fell into the chamber where the Pope was sitting and overwhelmed his chair. The Cardinal of Capua and a secretary who were present saved themselves by springing into the aperture of the window. When they saw the Pope’s chair covered by the ruins they cried out, “The Pope is dead”. The news spread through Rome and men took up arms expecting a riot. But when the ruin was examined the Pope was found alive. The beam immediately above his head had been clamped with iron outside the wall of the room, so that, though broken in two, it had not fallen, but had bent over the head of the Pope so as to make a screen. He escaped with a few trifling wounds on his head and arms.

The cloud of marvel and mystery was never long lifted from the Borgia family. Scarcely had Rome done talking about the Pope's escape before another and more terrible occurrence was noised abroad. On the evening of July 15, the Duke of Biseglia, the husband of Lucrezia Borgia, was attacked by assassins on the steps of S. Peter's as he was on his way from the Vatican. The assassins fled to a troop of horsemen, who were awaiting them, and rode off through the Porta Portese. The wounded man was carried into the house of the nearest Cardinal. At first he refused medical aid and seems to have shown great suspicion of those around him. He sent word to the King of Naples that his life was not safe in Rome, and the king dispatched his own physician to attend him.

Men said in Rome that this deed was wrought by the same hand as had slain the Duke of Gandia; no doubt they meant that it was the doing of Cesare Borgia. The position of the Duke of Biseglia in the Vatican had long been unpleasant. The Pope was allied with the enemy of Naples; Milan had fallen, and the turn of Naples was to come next. Alfonso dwelt amidst the active foes of his country and his father's house; he wandered disconsolate and helpless amidst aliens. The vigor, the brilliancy, the resolute daring of Cesare must have been hateful to him, and Cesare doubtless showed him scanty consideration. Moreover, there was another cause of ill-feeling between the two men. Alexander VI had dispossessed the Gaetani of their lands, and sold Sermoneta by a fictitious sale to his daughter Lucrezia. Sermoneta was a fief of Naples, and this was the easiest way of getting it into the hands of the Borgia; but Cesare is said to have grudged Lucrezia this possession on the ground that a woman was not strong enough to hold it. As the irritation increased, Cesare suspected that Alfonso was intriguing with the Colonna, who were allied with Naples, while Alfonso found another cause for anger in the divorce which Alexander VI pronounced, on April 5, between the King of Hungary and his wife Beatrice, daughter of Ferrante II of Naples. Every one said that the divorce was due to French influence, and Alfonso bitterly complained to the Neapolitan envoy. The suspicion of an understanding between Alfonso and the Colonna was enough to arouse the wrath of the Orsini; and possibly the attempted assassination was the work of the Orsini, but probably Cesare was privy to it. At all events he was afraid of some outbreak of violence, as he issued an order prohibiting any one to wear arms between S. Peter's and the Bridge of S. Angelo.

Alfonso’s wounds slowly healed, but he did not conceal his suspicions of Cesare, nor did Cesare show him any friendliness. The state of things is sufficiently explained by the Florentine envoy, who wrote, “There are in the Vatican so many causes of grudges, both old and new, so much envy and jealousy, both on public and private grounds, that scandals will necessarily arise”. Alfonso vowed revenge, and Cesare sullenly dared him. Their undisguised hostility awakened the alarm of Lucrezia and the Princess of Squillace, who vainly tried to mediate; but Alfonso accused Cesare of attempting his murder, and Cesare accused Alfonso of secretly plotting against him. Alexander VI set a guard of sixteen trusty attendants round Alfonso's chamber to try and keep the peace. Pacific counsels were, however, unavailing. One day Alfonso, seeing from his window Cesare walking in the garden, seized a bow and shot at him. Cesare’s wrath blazed up in a moment: he ordered his men to cut the duke in pieces. His orders were promptly obeyed, and the luckless Alfonso was murdered in his room.

Alexander VI was helpless before his imperious son. He listened to his excuses and tried to make the best of them. Some of Alfonso’s servants were imprisoned and tortured to extract confessions of their master's guilt, but it does not seem that much was discovered which would bear stating. Alexander VI told the Venetian ambassador at his court that the Duke of Biseglia had tried to murder Cesare, and had paid the penalty for his rashness. He promised to send a detailed account of the results of the process which he was instituting; but no report was ever sent, and the Pope considered it best to hush the matter up. Alfonso was privately buried in S. Peter's, and nothing more was said about his death.

This terrible deed was a testimony to Cesare’s resolute and unscrupulous character. Rome felt that it had a master who would spare no one who crossed his path. Men's imagination was stirred and their fears were awakened. The numerous assassinations, which were of common occurrence in the streets of Rome, were put down to Cesare’s mysterious designs. The Pope himself entertained for his son a mixture of affection, respect and fear. The Venetian ambassador, who looked calmly on, judged that Cesare had the requisite qualities for success in Italian political life; "This duke", he said, "if he lives, will be one of the first captains of Italy".

Alexander VI did not long distress himself about the Duke of Biseglia’s death, which he regarded as an unfortunate but trivial accident. “This Pope”, says the Venetian envoy, “is seventy years old, and grows younger every day. Cares never weigh on him more than a night; he loves life; he has a joyous nature, and does what may turn out useful to himself”. Alexander VI had the buoyant temperament of one fitted for practical life; he rose above troubles; he faced things as they were, he knew his own mind and used the means that offered themselves for the accomplishment of his purposes; he was free from scruples and rapidly forgot the past. The tearful face of Lucrezia, who was genuinely attached to her late husband, annoyed him. On August 31 he sent her to Nepi that she might overcome her grief and recover her spirits. He did not like to have around him any one who was not as joyous as himself.

During all these occurrences in his own family Alexander VI had been pursuing his plans for the conquest of the Romagna. It required much negotiation to overcome the opposition of Venice to his proposal of the conquest of Rimini and Faenza; and Venice only gave way before long pressure, because it needed the Pope’s help for a crusade against the Turks, who had alarmed the Republic by the capture of Modon. Not till September 16 did Venice at last send the Pope an answer that, although it considered the time inopportune for an attack on Faenza and Rimini, it would offer no opposition. Alexander VI was overjoyed at this news, and declared that he reckoned the friendship of Venice above that of France or Spain.

Alexander VI had already declared the vicars in the Romagna deposed from their offices, on the ground that they had not paid to the Holy See the dues which they owed; in the beginning of August he further declared the vicars of Pesaro, Rimini, and Faenza to be excommunicated. Preparations for an armament were made at Rome; and amongst them was a creation of twelve Cardinals, which was made on September 28. The creation was avowedly made in the interest of Cesare Borgia, who openly visited the old Cardinals and asked them to agree to the new nominations that he might be supplied with money for his enterprise against the Romagna. Of the new Cardinals, two were of the fruitful stock of the Borgia, and four others were Spaniards. Besides them were Cesare’s brother-in-law, d'Albret, a Venetian, Marco Correr, and the Pope's secretary and chief minister, Gian Battista Ferrari. Immediately after their creation the new Cardinals were entertained by Cesare at a banquet, where they assured him of their fidelity and proceeded to settle their accounts. Cesare obtained from their gratitude the respectable sum of 120,000 ducats. To fulfill his undertaking with Venice, Alexander VI issued Bulls for a crusade, and appointed legates to kindle the zeal of the princes of Christendom. He even said that he would go on the crusade in person if the King of France would go also, an offer which might be made without much prospect of the fulfillment of its condition. As a further sign of the good will of Venice Cesare Borgia was on October 18 enrolled as a member of the Venetian nobility. The proud Venetians can scarcely have believed Cesare to be steeped in every crime, or they would not have conferred on him this special distinction. The Florentines were amazed at their condescension. “The time will come”, said they, “when the Venetians will confess the truth of the proverb, Whatever the monk gets he gets for the monastery”.

Emboldened by this mark of favour from Venice, the Duke of Valentinois left Rome in October with an army of 10,000 men, French, Spaniards, and Italians. With him were Paolo Orsini, Gian Paolo Baglioni of Perugia, and Vitellozzo Vitelli, all famous captains. Pandolfo Malatesta at Rimini, and Giovanni Sforza at Pesaro, judged resistance to be hopeless; they abandoned their possessions, and their subjects hailed Cesare’s entrance with joy. Faenza offered a more determined resistance, in which it was supported by Florence and Giovanni Bentivoglio of Bologna, both of whom trembled for their own safety. It did not capitulate till April 20, 1501. Its young lord, Astorre Manfredi, was by the terms of the capitulation free to go where he chose; but he stayed or was detained in Cesare’s camp, whence he was taken to Rome. There he was confined in the Castle of S. Angelo, and was found drowned in the Tiber with a stone round his neck, on June 9, 1502.

When Cesare was master of Faenza he suddenly demanded the surrender of Castel Bolognese, which was in the territory of Bologna, and lay between Imola and Faenza; its possession was necessary to round off the dominions which Cesare had acquired. Giovanni Bentivoglio was unprepared for war, and ceded Castel Bolognese on condition that the Pope should confirm the ancient privileges of Bologna.

Cesare was now lord of a large territory, and Alexander VI conferred upon him indefinite rights by giving him the title of Duke of the Romagna. He prepared the way for future exploits by excommunicating Giulio Cesare Varano, lord of Camerino, as another rebellious vicar of the Holy See. But the Orsini, who were with Cesare, urged him to a more important enterprise, an attack upon Florence and the restoration of Piero de' Medici. Cesare asked leave to march to Rome through the Florentine territory. Florence was in a condition of great exhaustion through its long war with Pisa; its magistrates were timorous and were afraid to refuse. Cesare raised his demands, and the Florentines at last consented to buy him off by taking him into their service for three years with a salary of 36,000 florins. Cesare was glad to make such terms, because the French king showed that he would not allow an enterprise against Florence, and Alexander VI, alarmed at Cesare’s audacity, recalled him to Rome. He marched his disorderly army through the Florentine territory to Piombino, which he failed to carry by assault. Leaving some troops to carry on the siege, he hastened along the Maremma to Rome, where he was welcomed by the Pope on June 17, as though he had conquered the lands of the infidels and not of devoted subjects of the Holy See

Cesare found Rome the scene of new intrigues which were of the most momentous importance for the future of Italy. Louis XII, after the success of his plans in Milan, resolved to pursue the conquest of Naples. But the French advance in Italy naturally provoked the jealousy of Spain. Louis XII was not strong enough to carry out his plan if Spain offered resolute opposition; Spain was not inclined to wage a war in behalf of a king on whose dominions Ferdinand of Aragon already cast a longing eye. Matters were arranged between the two powers, and a secret treaty was entered into at Granada on November 11, 1500, in which they agreed to divide the Neapolitan dominions. Their ostensible motive for this act of robbery was the alliance which the terrified Federigo of Naples had unluckily made with the Turks. The Kings of France and Aragon, to preserve the peace of Christendom against the aggressions of the Turks, generously resolved to merge their conflicting claims on Naples and divide it between them; France was to have the northern provinces; Spain would be content with Apulia and Calabria. This infamous treaty was the first open assertion in European politics of the principles of dynastic aggrandizement. It was the first of a series of partition treaties by which peoples were handed over from one government to another as appendages to family estates.

The preparations for the French expedition against Naples were openly made; but Federigo hoped, with the help of the Colonna, to offer determined resistance on the Neapolitan frontier. He trusted that Spain would interpose on his behalf; and Gonsalvo de Cordova, who had been assisting the Venetians in a campaign against the Turks, brought the Spanish fleet to anchor off Sicily. In June the French army under D'Aubigny reached the neighbourhood of Rome. Then Alexander VI was called upon to ratify the treaty which had hitherto been kept a profound secret. On June 25 he issued a Bull deposing Federigo as a traitor to Christendom by alliance with the Turks, approving of the partition of Naples between the Kings of France and Aragon, and investing them with the lands which they proposed to take. The act of spoliation received the sanction of the head of the Church because, with a friendly power in Naples, he saw his way to reduce the Roman barons to subjection. There was, of course, a fair-sounding pretext; France and Spain, after reducing the treacherous King of Naples, were to combine against the Turks. Meanwhile the money raised for a crusade was to be spent in the conquest of Naples; there was always some trifling preliminary business to be done before Christendom could unite to expel the Infidel.

Federigo found himself abandoned and betrayed on all sides. Cesare Borgia joined the French troops; Gonsalvo de Cordova advanced into Calabria. Capua, which offered resistance, was stormed by the French and sacked with horrible barbarity, and Federigo, wishing to spare his people from further massacres, withdrew to Ischia on August 2, and surrendered to the French. Louis XII conferred on him the duchy of Anjou and a yearly pension. He died in 1504, and unlike most fallen kings, was cheered to the last by friends who were faithful to him in his adversity, amongst them the poet Sannazaro. Federigo was a kindly man of gentle disposition, who in favourable times might have pacified and reorganized the Neapolitan kingdom; but the turbulent days in which his lot was cast left no place for gentleness or good intentions. The Nemesis which pursued his house struck down as its victim the most guileless of the race. The house of Aragon had come as strangers to Naples, but rapidly became more Italian than the Italians themselves. Alfonso I rivalled Cosimo de' Medici as a patron of art and letters; Ferrante developed the crafty statesmanship which was Italy's ruin; Alfonso II displayed the refined savagery which was the sign of Italy's moral decadence; now the gentle Federigo saw Naples sink into bondage to alien domination.

The downfall of Naples brought with it the reduction of the Colonna faction, which could not venture to stand against a Pope supported by France, and helped by their hereditary foes, the Orsini. The Colonna thought it wise to prepare for what was inevitable, and tried to make terms by committing their castles to the custody of the College of Cardinals. This Alexander VI would not allow; and the Colonna and their friends the Savelli were driven to open their castles to the papal forces. Many of their vassals came to Rome and did homage to the Pope, who on July 27 left Rome to visit his new possessions. During his absence Lucrezia Borgia was left with power to act as his deputy. It was an unheard-of thing, and shocked official decorum, that a woman should be seated in the Vatican as the Pope’s representative. Lucrezia was commissioned to open the Pope’s letters, and in case of need, to consult Cardinal Costa. One day she sought the Cardinal’s advice. He answered that the custom was for the Vice-Chancellor to gather and record the votes of the Cardinals when the College was consulted. Lucrezia, impatient at this official reserve, exclaimed impetuously, “I can write well enough myself”. “Where is your pen?” said the Cardinal with a smile. They parted in laughter

The Pope had a reason for giving Lucrezia an air of political importance, as he was diligently pursuing a plan for her marriage with Alfonso, son of Ercole, Duke of Ferrara. In the early part of Lucrezia’s widowhood her hand had been used as a lure to the Orsini and the Colonna in turn. Now that they were no longer formidable, an alliance with Ferrara commended itself to the Pope, both as honorable to Lucrezia and as politically useful, since it secured Cesare in the Romagna, and opened up the road to Tuscany. It was true that Duke Ercole did not show himself very desirous of this connection with the Borgia, and Alfonso was strongly opposed to it. But Alexander VI made use of Louis XII to overcome their reluctance. By a combination of threats and allurements he pursued his design, and nothing is a stronger proof of his resoluteness than the way in which he drove the proud house of Este to ally themselves with his family. He sacrificed the rights of the Church to his own projects, and remitted for three generations the tribute due from Ferrara to the Apostolic See. On September 4 the news was brought to Rome that the marriage contract was concluded, and Lucrezia rode in magnificent attire to offer thanks at the Church of S. Maria del Popolo, whither she was escorted by four bishops and 300 horsemen. She gave her robe, which had never been worn before, and was worth 300 ducats, to her court-buffoon, who afterwards put it on and rode in mock procession through the streets of Rome, crying “Hurrah for the most illustrious Duchess of Ferrara! Hurrah for Pope Alexander VI!”. The delight of the Pope at his daughter's good fortune was boundless. He always showed a frank satisfaction in his own success, and made no secret of his pleasure in his family. He was naturally expansive, and called upon others to share his joy. He gave splendid entertainments at the Vatican, and looked, as a delighted spectator, on the dances in which Lucrezia’s fine figure showed to advantage. He could not refrain from calling the Ferrarese envoy to admire her: “The new duchess, you see, is not lame”.

Before Lucrezia left Rome, Alexander VI made provision for her son by the Duke of Biseglia, Rodrigo, a child of two years old, and also for another Borgia infant of dubious parentage, by name Giovanni. This Giovanni was legitimatized by the Pope in two briefs dated September 1, 1501. In the first, he is said to be the offspring of Cesare unmarried, and an unmarried woman; in the second, he is called the son of Cesare married and an unmarried woman. Then the brief proceeds to say that the defect in legitimacy does not come “from the aforesaid duke, but from us and the aforesaid unmarried woman, which for good reasons in the previous letter we did not wish specifically to express”. It is difficult to explain these two contradictory statements; but it is clear that the Pope wished to provide, as far as he could, against all contingencies. We may either suppose that, in his desire to secure Cesare's bastard son against the possible claims of legitimate children, he executed a second instrument in his favour, and took upon himself a guilt which was not his; or we must hold that this child of three years old was the son of the Pope at the age of sixty-eight, and that Cesare consented to recognize him as his own. In either case the Pope’s conduct was scandalous enough, and showed a shamelessness of inventive skill in molding legal forms to suit his purposes. Giovanni and Rodrigo were both endowed with the possessions of the Roman barons. Rodrigo was made Duke of Sermoneta; Giovanni, Duke of Nepi and Camerino. Later times accepted Giovanni’s parentage as dubious, and called him indifferentlyson of Cesare or of the Pope.

When these family affairs had been arranged, Lucrezia was ready to go to her third husband. But Ercole of Ferrara was a cautious man, and demanded that the Pope should obtain from the Cardinals a ratification of his promise to remit the tribute due from the Duke of Ferrara to the Holy See. This occupied a little time; but the Cardinals at last consented. A splendid escort for Lucrezia was sent from Ferrara, and was magnificently entertained at Rome. There were banquets and balls and bull-fights; there were pageants and theatrical performances—amongst other plays the Menaechmi of Plautus was represented before the Pope and Cardinals. The labours of Hercules, the deeds of Julius Caesar, and the glory of Lucrezia gave endless scope for the adaptive ingenuity of the masters of the revels. Vast sums of money were spent on these entertainments and on the outfit of Lucrezia, who left Rome in royal splendour on January 5, 1502, carrying a dowry of 100,000 ducats from the papal treasury. Her journey to Ferrara was a triumphal progress, and Ferrara strove to vie with Rome in the magnificence of her reception. Lucrezia, who was still only twenty-two years old, was personally popular through her beauty and her affability. Her long golden hair, her sweet childish face, her pleasant expression and her graceful ways, seem to have struck all who saw her. Much as her husband disliked the notion of his marriage, he was soon won over by his wife, and Lucrezia lived a blameless life at Ferrara. However unhappy she may have been in her early days as the puppet of her father's political schemes, she found in Ferrara a peaceful home. She seems to have inherited her father's frank and joyous nature, but she was in no way remarkable. If Alexander VI hoped that she would become a political personage, he was disappointed. She showed no aptitude in that direction; but she seems to have been a good wife to Alfonso. When the power of Alexander VI and Cesare came to an end, Alfonso of Ferrara did not try to rid himself of the wife who had been forced upon him. She died in 1519, regretted by her husband, and on her deathbed wrote to Pope Leo X, begging for his benediction before she died. The evil repute of her father and brother fell upon her in later days, and in her own time the tongue of scandal associated her name with shameless charges. But from the time that she left Rome no voice was raised against her; and there are no facts proved which tend to her discredit. Romance has busied itself with her life and has converted Lucrezia Borgia into a heroine of unmentionable wickedness.

It was at this period, when the power of the Borgia was seen to be rising, and filled men's minds with terror for the future, that some of the most savage libels against the Pope were written. At the end of 1501 there appeared in Rome a pamphlet, in the form of a letter to Silvio Savelli, one of the dispossessed barons who had been driven to flee before the papal arms. It professed to be written from the camp of Gonsalvo before Tarento, on November 15, 1501, to Silvio in Germany, and besought him to stir up the Emperor against a Pope who was a disgrace to Christendom. It is clear that it was dictated through political terror, and is a set piece of declamation gathering together every possible charge against the Pope. He is a ‘new Mahomet’ and Antichrist; he gained his seat by simony, and uses his power solely for the good of his family. The Vatican is like the jaws of hell, guarded by a second Cerberus, the Cardinal of Modena, who sells everything to gain money which the Pope spends on his own pleasures and in buying jewels for Lucrezia. The Vatican is the scene of abominable orgies, in which all sense of shame is lost. In Rome there is a reign of terror; poison and the dagger of the assassin are directed against everyone who stands in the Pope’s way. In short the document is a summary of all the charges brought against Alexander VI, and seems to have furnished the basis for the statements of contemporary historians. If such a document were accepted as literally true, history would have to be rewritten. It is, however, a valuable testimony to the hatred which Alexander VI inspired, and to the dangerous weapons which his notorious irregularities furnished to his enemies.

Alexander VI had this libel read to him; but he knew Rome too well to feel much annoyance at it. He took no steps to discover its author or to prohibit its circulation; and Silvio Savelli, in whose interest it was written, returned to Rome in safety and was admitted to the Pope’s presence. Alexander VI was willing to face the chances of war and did not object to receive his share of knocks. Cesare Borgia, however, was not so patient, and this libel roused his wrath against evil-speakers. At the end of November a man wearing a mask, who in the Borgo had inveighed against the duke, was seized by his orders and was punished by having one hand and the tip of his tongue cut off. A Venetian who had translated some scandalous document from the Greek and sent it to Venice, was seized and put to death, in spite of the remonstrances of the Venetian ambassador. The Pope deplored the vindictiveness of his son. He said to the Ferrarese ambassador: “The duke is good-hearted, but he cannot bear injuries. I have often told him that Rome is a free country, where a man may say or write what he will; that much is said against me, but that I do not interfere. He answered: If Rome is accustomed to write and speak slanders, well and good; but I will teach them to repent. For my own part I have always been forgiving—witness the Cardinals who plotted against me when Charles VIII invaded Italy. I might have rid myself many times of Ascanio Sforza and Giuliano della Rovere, but I have not done so”. Alexander V. spoke truly; he was not revengeful nor did he bear ill-will. He was determined to go his own way, but he did not conceal from himself that his course was sure to awake violent opposition. He only struck at those who were dangerous; if they would withdraw their opposition he was ready to receive them back into his favor. He regarded it as only natural that envy should attend upon success.

The outspoken unscrupulousness of Alexander VI and Cesare Borgia made them, even during their life-time, the objects of exceptional reprobation. Other statesmen might be criminal, but their criminality was not so openly recognized or commented upon. Whether men be right or wrong, they thought that Alexander VI would hesitate at nothing. Two private letters written to Machiavelli by a friend in Rome express with cynical frankness the moral depravity of Roman society under a Pope whom every one regarded with dread. “His mind”, says the writer in 1501, “longs to play the part of Sulla and enjoy proscriptions; he takes one man’s goods, another man's life, a third he drives into exile, a fourth he condemns to the galleys, a fifth he deprives of his house and puts therein some Spanish heretic; and all this for no reason or a slight one”. Men certainly thought that Alexander VI poisoned his Cardinals when he was in want of money, and almost every death of any member of the College was attributed to this cause. Thus Machiavelli's correspondent speaks of the death of Cardinal Lopez, and continues: “If you wish to know by what kind of death he died, it is commonly reputed to be by poison, since the great Gonfaloniere (Cesare) was unfriendly to him, so that such deaths are frequently heard of in Rome”. Such assertions can neither be proved nor disproved: it is bad enough that the Pope’s conduct did not make them incredible. Men saw the Pope greedily seizing on the goods of dying Cardinals, without any attempt to conceal his pressing need of money and his readiness to receive it from every source. They can hardly be blamed for not stopping to reflect that even Cardinals must die, and that the number who died during Alexander's pontificate was not beyond the average.

The insatiable avidity of the Pope and Cesare, the pains they took to gain information and devise new projects, and their astonishing good fortune, all combined to fill men with a sense of helplessness as well as dread. Cesare’s troops disturbed the peace of Rome, and Cesare’s mysterious habits of secrecy and silence threw an air of darkness over the city. “The dead of nigh” says Egidius of Viterbo, “covered all things. To say nothing of domestic tragedies, never was sedition and bloodshed more rife in the States of the Church; never were bandits more numerous; never was their more wickedness in the city; never did informers and assassins more abound. Not in their houses, in their chambers, or in their towers were men safe. Law of man and God alike was set at naught. Gold, violence, and lust bore undisputed sway”. It would seem that during the last two years of Alexander VI's pontificate Rome was filled with uneasy suspicion. Everything was possible when so much was unintelligible; all sense of security had gone, and men trembled at the thought of future horrors.

In the early part of 1502 Alexander VI and Cesare were watching their opportunity. On February 17 the Pope Set out by sea to inspect the fortifications which Leonardo da Vinci was erecting for Cesare at Piombino. Six galleys were manned by sailors pressed for the Pope's service. At Piombino Alexander VI was entertained by dances of maidens in the market-place, and it was observed that he and the Cardinals ate meat though it was the season of Lent. On his return to Rome he had a stormy voyage. Though the wind was contrary the Pope refused to put back, till at length the sailors were compelled to try and make for Corneto, but found it impossible to gain the harbor. All were panic-stricken save the Pope, who sat in the stern, and when a heavy sea washed over the ship exclaimed "Jesus", and crossed himself. His peril did not destroy his appetite and he asked for dinner; but was told that the winds and the waves together made it impossible to kindle a fire. At last there was a slight lull, and it was possible to cook a few fishes. As the wind fell the ship reached Porto d'Ercole in safety, and on March 11 Alexander VI returned to Rome. There he set to work to strengthen the Castle of S. Angelo, which he supplied with artillery at the expense of the Colonna. He heard that several guns had been buried at Frascati, whither he went to explore. He compelled by torture some peasants to discover the hiding-places, and brought the guns to Rome. He also bought for 13,000 ducats the artillery of the dispossessed King of Naples. By this means he was well supplied with means of defence, which he acquired at a cheap rate.

Meanwhile the position of affairs in Italy seemed to open out a fresh prospect for the ambitious plans of Cesare Borgia. France and Spain began to quarrel about the boundaries of their respective shares of the Neapolitan kingdom; war between the two powers was imminent, and each of them was anxious to have the Pope as an ally. Louis XII was preparing for an expedition against Naples, and Alexander VI knew that he might count upon his complaisance in the affairs of Central Italy. Venice was still engaged in war against the Turks, and adopted an attitude of watchful neutrality. It was important for Cesare to seize this moment of suspense and make the most of it. Rome was quiet; the barons of the Campagna were reduced; the greater part of the Romagna was in Cesare’s hands; Ferrara was his ally; Piombino afforded him a means of attacking Florence and Pisa. With these advantages much might be done.

Alexander VI could supply Cesare with money; but for troops he was largely dependent on condottieri generals. Chief amongst them were the Orsini, who hoped by Cesare's help to restore the Medici to Florence; and Vitellozzo Vitelli, who burned to revenge on the Florentines the death of his brother Paolo, who had been executed on the charge of treachery in his conduct of the war against Pisa. Another was Oliverotto Eufreducci, who, after serving under Vitellozzo, determined to increase his importance. Accordingly he returned in January, 1502, to his native town of Fermo, which was ruled by his uncle Giovanni Fogliani. One day he invited Giovanni and the chief citizens to dinner, and afterwards, saying that he wished to speak with them privately about the Pope and Cesare, withdrew with them to another room, where he had posted soldiers who sprang out and killed them all. Oliverotto mounted his horse and slaughtered all his uncle's friends in Fermo; then he sent word to the Pope that he held Fermo as Vicar of the Church.

Such instruments were necessary, but they were undoubtedly dangerous. They had, however, one useful quality, that they could be disavowed in case of need. Accordingly Vitellozzo Vitelli was allowed to encourage Arezzo to rebel against Florence, while Cesare in Rome was gathering troops, ostensibly for his long threatened expedition against Camerino. Arezzo rebelled on June 4, and Vitellozzo hastened thither with his forces. Alexander VI expressed his regret at this invasion of the Florentine territory, which was under the protection of the French king, and asserted that neither he nor Cesare was privy to it; but no one believed him.

Soon news was brought to Rome that Pisa had raised the banner of the Duke of the Romagna, and elected him her lord. Though Alexander VI declared that Cesare could not accept such an offer, still Florence felt herself attacked on two sides at once, and was thrown into great alarm. On June 12 Cesare left Rome with 700 horsemen and 6000 infantry, to go against Camerino. He advanced to Spoleto, then to Cagli in the dominions of Guidubaldo, Duke of Urbino. Suddenly the town was seized in Cesare’s name, and the unsuspecting Guidubaldo received the news just in time to flee before Cesare advanced to Urbino, which opened its gates to him on June 21. Cesare wrote to the Pope, saying that he was driven to this sudden action by the discovery that Guidubaldo was conspiring with the lord of Camerino, had sent him supplies, and was prepared to seize his artillery on its passage by Gubbio. It is not improbable that Guidubaldo was only half-hearted in his promises to help Cesare against Camerino, and that he did not relish the fall of so many of his neighbours before Cesare’s arms; but it is tolerably certain that Cesare intended this surprise of Urbino before he left Rome, and that Alexander VI expected the news.

Cesare treated his new conquest gently, and made few alterations in its government. While he stayed at Urbino he was revolving in his mind a scheme for rendering his position more independent. This was only possible by securing an Italian alliance which would enable him to dispense with the support of the French king; and if this alliance could be gained by the sacrifice of his condottieri generals he would be free from another source of embarrassment. He had used the condottieri to terrify Florence, and Florence was the ally of France; if he could draw Florence into a close alliance with himself by sacrificing his condottieri, he might be in a position to hold the balance between France and Spain.

Accordingly Cesare demanded that Florence should send an envoy to Urbino; and Florence, which was sunk in deep despondency, sent the Bishop of Volterra, with Niccolò Machiavelli as his secretary. To him Cesare offered the alternative of close friendship or decided hostility; he was willing to serve Florence, to renew his old connection with her as her general, and to rid her of her assailants. “I am not here to play the tyrant”, he said, “but to extinguish tyrants”. He thus made an offer, the meaning of which was afterwards understood, that he would rid Florence of the Orsini and Vitellozzo. In return he demanded that Florence should establish a stable government, favorable to himself, that he might know with whom he had to do. The Bishop of Volterra was impressed by the sincerity with which he spoke, and Machiavelli admired a man who knew his own mind and successfully pursued his course. “This lord”, he wrote, “is splendid and magnificent, and is so bold that there is no enterprise so great that it does not seem to him small. To gain glory and win dominions he robs himself of repose and knows neither fatigue nor danger. He comes to a place before his intentions are understood. He makes himself well liked amongst his soldiers, and has chosen the best men in Italy. These things make him victorious and formidable, with the aid of perpetual good fortune”.

The Florentines may be pardoned for hesitating to enter into an alliance with so dubious a person as Cesare. The people were strongly opposed to it. “We did not fear the King of France”, they said, “with 30,000 soldiers; shall we fear a few ragamuffins led by the unfrocked bastard of a priest?”. The envoys were bidden to temporize, for news was brought that Louis XII was advancing into Northern Italy. Cesare saw at once what was the object of the Florentines. “I am no merchant”, he said to Soderini,“and I came prepared for frank dealing. You answer me with words, and I can see that you wish to beguile me. You trust in the French king; you forget that he cannot be always in Italy. You will find that he will help me. One day you will be sorry that you tried to abuse my goodness and simplicity”.

The sudden arrival of Louis XII at Asti caused a cessation of further scheming till the king's intentions were known. Cesare made sure of Camerino, which fell before his troops on July 20. Louis XII sent some troops to aid the Florentines, and Cesare ordered the reluctant Vitellozzo to quit Arezzo and Città di Castello, which were again occupied in the name of Florence. Louis XII had come into Italy at an unfortunate time for Cesare, whose enemies flocked with complaints to the French king. The Florentines told their grievances; the dispossessed lords of Urbino and Camerino carried their tale of woe to Milan; Cardinal Orsini went to remind the king of the services rendered by his house to France, and of the losses it had consequently endured. There was a general hope that Louis XII would direct his arms against Cesare, and so restore Italian peace. But the Pope was busy in his negotiations with the French king, and Cesare offered to accompany him with 2500 men in an expedition against the Spaniards in Naples. They excused themselves of any privity to Vitellozzo’s attempt on the Florentine territory, and though Alexander VI expressed his wish to punish Gian Giordano Orsini and Giovanni Bentivoglio of Bologna, he submitted himself to the pleasure of the French king. The Pope's diplomatic activity was incessant. Cesare judged it better to take the matter into his own hands; leaving Urbino he journeyed with a few attendants to Milan, and was honorably received by Louis XII on August 5.

Thus Cesare went to arrange matters with France, while Alexander VI made fair promises to the Spanish ambassadors. Their diplomacy was successful. In return for Cesare’s promises of help against Naples Louis XII. allowed him to proceed against Giovanni Bentivoglio of Bologna, and work his will on the Orsini, the Baglioni, and the Vitelli. Cesare stayed with Louis XII till September 2, when he returned to Asti; then he set off for Imola to prepare his attack on Bologna. But suddenly the terror which his schemes inspired found an expression, and Giovanni Bentivoglio succeeded in convincing his neighbors of their own danger. Cardinal Orsini had learned in Milan something of the plan for the destruction of his house. Vitellozzo and the Baglioni were indignant with Cesare for disavowing them in their attempt on Arezzo; he had cleared himself before Louis XII at their expense. Cesare’s government in the Romagna, which was creditable to his desire for order and justice, alarmed those who profited by lawlessness. A formidable league was formed against Cesare, and the confederates met at the Castle ot Mugione on Lake Trasimene. Thither went Cardinal Orsini, Paolo and Franciotto Orsini, Francesco Orsini Duke of Gravina, Oliverotto of Fermo, Vitellozzo, Gian Paolo Baglioni, with representatives of Guidubaldo of Urbino, Petrucci and Bentivoglio. They swore to be true to one another; they discussed schemes for warring against Cesare; they arranged for common deliberation about their common affairs. This confederacy against Cesare soon brought him into difficulties. There was a rising in Urbino in favour of the old duke, and a body of Cesare’s forces was defeated by the rebels; Urbino was lost, and the lords who had been driven from the Romagna were all preparing to return. The schemes of Alexander VI and the labours of Cesare seemed likely to be destroyed in a moment.

In this emergency the Pope and Cesare exerted all their powers. Cesare’s first need was soldiers; his forces had been sorely diminished by the defection of his condottieri, and he made haste to reinforce them. For this purpose Alexander VI supplied him with money. He had had a stroke of good luck by the death of the wealthy Cardinal of Modena on July 20, to the great rejoicing of the Curia. Gian Battista Ferrari had been the Pope’s chief agent in matters of business, and had been created Cardinal in 1500 in recognition of his services in many matters of confidence. His death was attributed to poison, administered by his secretary, Sebastian Pinzone, who was believed to have acted as the Pope's executioner. Burchard, however, gives a circumstantial account of Cardinal Ferrari’s illness, which does not bear out that supposition. He was taken ill on July 3, of a fever, and refused to use the remedies which his physicians ordered; after five days' illness he prescribed for himself a diet of bread sopped in wine. His fever abated for a time and then returned with renewed violence; many physicians visited him, but he refused their medicine. In his delirium his mind was full of his business, and he complained of someone who had cheated him of ten ducats. The rumor of the Pope’s complicity in his death probably arose from the unseemly way in which, after a last visit to the dying man, he ordered an inventory to be taken of all his goods. The moment he was dead the Pope seized his possessions, which amounted to 50,000 ducats, and at once distributed his benefices. The bishopric of Modena was given to the Cardinal’s brother, and several of his smaller benefices to his secretary Pinzone. Perhaps the Pope wished to recompense them for the loss of legacies which they might have expected had Ferrari made a will. However, the guilt of Pinzone and the Pope’s complicity were generally believed, so much so that Pinzone was called to account under Julius II in 1504. Perhaps Julius II was not sorry to use Pinzone’s unpopularity as a means of striking a blow at one of the creatures of Alexander VI and emphasizing his dissent from the actions of his predecessor. It can hardly be taken as an avowal of guilt that Pinzone did not submit himself to trial, but preferred to be deprived of his offices for contumacy.

It was not through any love for Cardinal Ferrari that so much attention was given to his death, for seldom was a man so universally hated. He was a hard man of business and added personal rudeness to his extortionate practices. A shower of epigrams followed him to his grave, the mildest of which gives a brief account of him : “Earth has his body, the Pope his goods, the Styx his soul”. His unquiet spirit is represented as calling on the passer-by : “Say not. Light lie the earth, nor scatter flowers: if you would give me rest, chink money on my tomb”.

The money of Cardinal Ferrari enabled Cesare to raise forces, and he was soon at the head of an army of 6000 men. But he did not seek to meet the confederates in the field; he looked for allies, and strove to separate his enemies. Alexander VI proposed to the Venetian envoy a close alliance with Venice. “Though we are Spanish by birth”, he said, “and though we sometimes show ourselves French in policy, we still are Italians. Our seat is in Italy; here we have to live, as also our duke”. On the other hand Venice was invited by Spain to unite in freeing Italy from the Borgia, “a disease which infects it all”. “God”, said the Spanish envoy, “has given you an opportunity which should not be lost”. Venice, however, true to its cautious policy, preserved a neutral attitude, and gave general answers to the Pope and Spain alike. Louis XII held to his alliance with the Pope, sent troops to Cesare, and expressed his anger against the rebel lords. Cesare pursued his request for an alliance with Florence, which in September had assumed a more stable government by electing Piero Soderini as Gonfaloniere for life; but the Florentine people distrusted Cesare, and Soderini thought it best to temporise. For this purpose he sent as envoy the secretary Niccolò Machiavelli, a man of no great distinction, but one whose acuteness might be trusted; and in the conduct of this negotiation with Cesare Machiavelli first showed his marvelous powers of political observation.

Cesare got no help save from France; but that was enough to prevent all Italy from turning against him and gave him time to manage the confederate lords. He and Alexander VI used all their adroitness to face the emergency; they well understood another and acted in admirable concert. Both were cool and resolute, and they soon showed themselves more than a match for their foes. The confederate lords were bold enough when they were together; but they had no leader, and each was seeking only his own interest. They were afraid of the power of France, and had no confidence in themselves. Cesare showed no signs of alarm; Alexander VI assured the Orsini of his good will towards them. Negotiations were carried on both by Cesare and the Pope with various members of the confederacy. The aged Paolo Orsini was soon won over by Cesare’s promises, and undertook the office of negotiator; Cardinal Orsini confided in the Pope's fair speeches, though even children warned him of his folly. He smiled in the consciousness of superior wisdom, and said that all his differences with the Pope had only ended to his own advantage. On October 28 an accord was drawn up by which peace was restored between Cesare and the confederates. Urbino and Camerino were to be restored to Cesare, who undertook to protect the confederates against all enemies, save the Pope and the King of France; the differences between the Pope and Giovanni Bentivoglio were referred to the arbitration of Cesare, Cardinal Orsini, and Pandolfo Petrucci. Paolo Orsini had some difficulty in persuading his allies to accept these terms; Vitellozzo especially demurred. It was indeed disgraceful to them that they abandoned Guidubaldo of Urbino, and left Giovanni Bentivoglio to the uncertainty of a commission. But Paolo Orsini was deaf to remonstrances; he carried his point and persuaded the rebels to accept the peace. Cardinal Orsini was so infatuated as to return to Rome and boast before the Pope of his services in saving Cesare from ruin.

Bystanders saw that the agreement was hollow, and that there was no real confidence on either side. The Pope called the confederates a “sorry company” to the Florentine envoy. “See”, he said, “how they accuse themselves of treason”. Machiavelli in the court of Cesare heard the duke’s secretary mutter about Vitellozzo : “This traitor has given us a blow with a dagger and hopes to heal it with words”. Alexander VI and Cesare quietly strengthened themselves and took advantage of the perfidy of the confederates. Giovanni Bentivoglio, who had been abandoned by his allies, entered into negotiations with the Pope, who agreed to confirm the privileges of Bologna, and leave Giovanni in possession of the city in return for troops for the service of Cesare. This agreement so irritated Cardinal Orsini that he reproached the Bolognese envoy in the Pope's presence, and angry words passed between them. Alexander VI saw with amusement that he had succeeded in sowing discord between his opponents.

Cesare, meanwhile, showed no great haste to recover his lost possessions. Guidubaldo again fled from Urbino, but many of the castles of the duchy were still held by the troops of the Orsini. On December 10 Cesare marched from Imola to Cesena, prepared for some important expedition, and it was soon rumored that he intended to attack Sinigaglia, which since the days of Sixtus IV had been held by Giovanni della Rovere, Prefect of Rome. Giovanni married the sister of Guidubaldo of Urbino; and on his death, in 1501, his son was heir to the possessions of the Montefeltri. The boy and his mother were now in the castle of Sinigaglia, and despite the entreaties of Cardinal Rovere, Alexander VI resolved that Sinigaglia also should go to Cesare. The last of the family of Sixtus IV was to be sacrificed to the political emergencies of his successor.

Yet Cesare seemed slow in his movements, and tarried at Cesena to the growing impatience of the Pope. Alexander VI was eager for news; he could not contain his wrath at Cesare’s inactivity, and vented his anger in no measured terms. Cesare at Cesena weakened his forces by dismissing his French auxiliaries, to the amazement of all, so that there were rumors of a breach between him and the French king. At the same time he showed signs of a change of policy in his rule of the Romagna. His governor, a Spaniard, Don Ramiro de Lorqua, who had made himself feared by his severity, was suddenly committed to prison, and two days afterwards was beheaded in the Piazza of Cesena. No one knew the exact reason; some said that Cesare owed him a private grudge, others that he was suspected of intriguing with the rebels against the duke. Machiavelli contents himself with remarking, “So it pleased the prince, who shows that he can make and unmake men at his will according to their deserts”. Whatever Cesare’s motive may have been, the deed itself was acceptable to the condottieri generals, who saw themselves rid of a man whose severity they dreaded, and about whom they complained to Cesare. The execution of Don Ramiro was most probably ordered because it would be popular both with the people of the Romagna and with the condottieri.

While Cesare tarried at Cesena, his repentant generals showed their good will by attacking Sinigaglia. The town surrendered at once; but the castle held out, and its governor refused to give it up to any one save the duke in person. Cesare sent word that he was coming and would confer with the condottieri generals about future enterprises. There were at Sinigaglia, Oliverotto of Fermo, Paolo Orsini, the Duke of Gravina, and Vitellozzo Vitelli, each of whom had schemes of his own which he hoped to further. Preparations were made for Cesare's coming. Oliverotto’s troops were quartered in Sinigaglia; those of the other generals were sent to some little distance to make room for Cesare’s men. On December 31 Cesare advanced from Fano and was Met outside Sinigaglia by Paolo Orsini, the Duke of Gravina and Vitellozzo. He showed great pleasure at meeting them, shook hands warmly and embraced them on the cheek. Not seeing Oliverotto with them, he gave a significant glance to his captain, Don Michele, who rode off into the town. There he found Oliverotto amongst his troops, and carelessly said that it was a pity to keep the men under arms, as their lodgings might be occupied by Cesare's troops through mistake; it would be better to go and meet the duke. Oliverotto accordingly went forward, and was greeted with every sign of affection. When they reached the palace where Cesare was to stay, the four generals prepared to take leave of him; but Cesare invited them to enter, as he had something to say. As soon as they were inside they were seized and made prisoners by the gentlemen of the guard. Then Cesare’s troops were sent to disarm and disband the forces of Oliverotto in Sinigaglia, and those of the other generals in the neighboring castles. As they were entirely unsuspicious, this was easily accomplished; the victors on their return to Sinigaglia proceeded to sack the town, and were withdifficulty checked by Cesare.

Cesare sent for Machiavelli and received him with the “best cheer in the world”. He reminded him that he had given him previous hints of his intentions, but added, “I did not tell you all”. He used the moment of his triumph to urge again on Machiavelli his desire for a firm alliance with Florence: he had undone the most powerful enemies of himself, the French king, and Florence, and expected the gratitude of Florence for having uprooted these tares in the garden of Italy. Cesare showed scant mercy to his captives. That same night Oliverotto and Vitellozzo were strangled, and both died abjectly. Oliverotto with tears accused Vitellozzo of being the instigator of his rebellion against the duke; Vitellozzo besought Cesare to beg the Pope to grant him a plenary indulgence for his sins

The two Orsini captives were spared till Cesare learned how the Pope had sped in his part of the business. Alexander VI’s eagerness for news from Cesare was natural since he knew how large was the interest at stake. On January 1, 1503, he heard the news of the fall of Sinigaglia, and said significantly: “The duke’s nature is not to pardon injuries or leave vengeance to others. He has sworn to slay Oliverotto with his own hands if he can lay hold of him”. On the night of January 2 a messenger arrived from Cesare, and the Pope summoned armed men to the Vatican. He was resolved to strike a blow at the Orsini; and so terrified was the secretary, who had read Cesare’s letter, that he did not leave the Pope’s presence all night, lest, if the scheme failed, he should be suspected of giving information. Next morning Cardinal Orsini was summoned to the Vatican. He came without suspicion of evil, as he was on the best terms with the Pope, and two days before had celebrated Mass in his presence. When he alighted from his mule, it was taken to the Pope’s stable. When he entered the Pope’s chamber he found it full of armed men; he and several of his followers were at once arrested and imprisoned. Rome was filled with confusion at this news; but there was no leader and nothing was done. Next day, the Pope summoned the ambassadors in Rome to give them an account of what had happened. He said that Don Ramiro de Lorqua, before his execution, had confessed to Cesare a conspiracy of Vitellozzo and Oliverotto against his life; they intended to have him shot on the march to Sinigaglia; to provide for his own safety Cesare imprisoned them; they confessed their guilt and had been put to death; their accomplices were still in prison, and as the Cardinal Orsini was suspected he had been imprisoned likewise. It was a plausible tale, but the Venetian envoy remarks: “As he told me this he seemed to be conscious himself that it was a fiction, but he went on coloring it as best he could”.

The Pope proceeded rapidly with his measures against the Orsini. The Cardinal’s palace was dismantled, and all his goods were seized by the Pope; his luckless mother, at the age of eighty, was turned into the streets, and begged in vain for shelter, as everyone was afraid to receive so dangerous a guest. The Prince of Squillace was sent with troops to seize the Orsini castles in the neighborhood, and they were all surrendered in terror. The Cardinals went to the Pope to plead the cause of their imprisoned colleague; the Pope only multiplied his accusations against Cardinal Orsini, and declared that he should have full justice. Other prelates of the Orsini faction were imprisoned likewise. There was a general panic in Rome, and many of the wealthiest men thought it wise to flee at once. The Pope was triumphant, and boastfully said: “What has been done is nothing to what will be done soon”. The Cardinals were terrified, especially those who had ever opposed the Pope. When the Pope spoke with unwonted kindness to Cardinal Medici every one regarded him as a doomed man. So great was the terror that Cardinal Piccolomini besought the Venetian envoy to advise his Republic to interpose and stay the general ruin.

It is amazing that this treacherous deed should have awakened no remonstrances, and should have been completely successful; but in the artificial politics of Italy everything depended on the skill of the players in the game. The condottieri represented only themselves, and when they were removed by any means, however treacherous, nothing remained. There was no party, no interest which was outraged by the fall of the Orsini and Vitellozzo. The armies of the condottieri were formidable so long as they followed their generals; when the generals were removed, the soldiers dispersed and entered into other engagements. Every one breathed more freely when Vitellozzo and the rest were out of the way. Florence and Venice, as well as Cesare and the Pope, were rid of troublesome neighbors and were glad of their destruction. The question of the means employed in their overthrow was quite of secondary importance. Most men admired Cesare’s consummate coolness in the matter; many had foreseen that he could never really forgive the rebels. Their fate awakened no sympathy; they deserved no mercy, for they were stained with every crime. Cesare crushed them as he would have crushed a noxious insect and did not think that any excuse was needed for the way in which he got them into his power. No outrage was done to current morality. Italy was in a state of transition in which it had lost old principles of conduct and was groping after new ones. Old political landmarks had disappeared; old states had vanished; everything was at hazard, and no one could even dimly foresee the future. Most men in Italy accepted as sufficient Cesare’s remark to Machiavelli: “It is well to beguile those who have shown themselves masters of treachery”. Cesare’s conduct was judged by its success, and that was sufficiently brilliant; but more than his ability Machiavelli admired his good fortune. The downfall of the Orsini was an immense step towards securing the permanence of Cesare’s power in the future. Now that the Colonna and the Orsini were both crushed, a new Pope would not be under the influence of either of the old Roman factions, and Cesare might look forward to commanding the support of the Papacy even after his father's death.

CHAPTER XI

DEATH OF ALEXANDER VI.

1503

The immediate result of the massacre of Sinigaglia was to bring new territories to obedience to the Church.Città di Castello and Perugia at once submitted to Cesare, who next turned his arms against Siena. On January 18 Paolo Orsini and the Duke of Gravina were put to death, and Alexander VI, eager to complete the destruction of the Orsini family, summoned Cesare to reduce the castles which were too strong for the arms of the Prince of Squillace. But Cesare did not entirely show his father's eagerness; he needed friends near Rome to help him in the event of the Pope's death, and was willing to trust to the gratitude of those whom he spared. The chiefs of the Orsini were Giovanni Giordano, lord of Bracciano, who was serving in Naples under the French king, and the Count of Pitigliano, who was in the pay of Venice. They and their friends prepared for resistance, and Cesare thought it best to leave them alone; he contented himself with besieging Ceri. Alexander VI was impatient at the slow progress of the siege; “I wish to root out this house” he exclaimed; and for his own part he pursued his object steadfastly. On February 22 the Cardinal Orsini died in his prison, and the story of his last days is ghastly. His luckless mother did all she could to keep him alive; she paid the Pope 2000 ducats for the privilege of sending him a daily supply of food. She even sent a mistress of the Cardinal to present the Pope with a costly pearl which he had envied. The Pope received it graciously, and renewed his permission to send food to the Cardinal; but men believed that he had already drunk a draught of deadly wine mixed by the Pope's orders. After his death Alexander VI was anxious to show that he died from natural causes; but his fate had been so long foreseen that no one was curious to know how it was brought about.

At the end of February Cesare came to Rome, but went about masked and gave no public sign of his presence. He was always given to mystery, and envoys found it hard to approach him unless he wished to see them. He sat up late at night, slept during the day, and was careless of conventional formalities. It was clear that he did not agree with the Pope's desire to root out the Orsini, and was in favor of sparing Gian Giordano at the request of the French king. The Pope threatened to excommunicate him if he did not reduce Bracciano, and on March 14 Cesare unwillingly set out to the siege of Ceri, which surrendered on April 5. Giulio Orsini returned to Rome with Cesare and was well received by the Pope. He was sent to negotiate with Gian Giordano for the surrender of his possession; this was provisionally accomplished, and the Pope was now master of the Patrimony.

On April 11 Rome was startled by the news of the death of Cardinal Michiel, the nephew of Pope Paul II. There were strong suspicions of poisoning, which was very probable from the symptoms of the case. His death brought the Pope 150,000 ducats, and men did not hesitate to say that he had fallen a victim to the Pope's desire for money. However unwilling we may be to accuse a Pope of poisoning, there can be no doubt of the prevalence of the belief amongst Alexander VI's contemporaries; and the deaths of Cardinals Orsini and Michiel were accompanied by such suspicious circumstances that we cannot dismiss the belief as entirely groundless in their cases.

On the fall of the Orsini, Alexander VI could look round with triumph on the work which he had accomplished. He had inherited a troubled and precarious seat; by his prudence and energy, Rome had been reduced to submission; the Papal States had been rescued from petty tyrants; the rival factions who disturbed the Papacy in Rome had been annihilated. But all this only offered to Alexander VI the opportunity for a new departure. Cesare had done much; but more might still be done. It was true that he had well-nigh accomplished all that was possible in the existing condition of Italian affairs; if his dominions were to be extended it must be in Tuscany, and there the French king forbade his advance. The advantages to be gained by the French alliance were nearly exhausted; but new combinations were possible, which might open up new fields for adventure. Cesare had expressed his wish for an alliance with Florence; Alexander VI urged repeatedly on Venice a proposal for a close alliance which might enable them to interfere in the affairs of Naples. The Venetian envoy Giustinian tells us of a characteristic interview with Alexander VI on April 11. The Pope pleaded the need of uniting ‘this poor Italy’; Giustinian answered that it would be well to unite not only Italy but all Christendom against the Turk. This was far beyond the sphere of Alexander VI’s political calculations; he laughed, and answered: “You are talking nonsense Considerations of the good of Christendom as a whole, had since the days of Sixtus IV vanished from the papal policy”.

The war between France and Spain for the possession of Naples meanwhile went on. All Italy rejoiced at the renewal of its military glory by the tournament at Barletta, in which thirteen Italians overcame their French opponents. Men boasted that Italians could now meet the French in the field; but they forgot that the Italian champions were not fighting for a national cause, but only to set one foreign conqueror in the place of another. Nothing shows more clearly the utter want of patriotism in Italy than its readiness to accept the tournament of Barletta as a great national exploit, to be celebrated in prose and verse. It was the military skill of Gonsalvo de Cordova, not the prowess of the Italians, which drove the French from Apulia. In May Gonsalvo entered Naples, and the French took refuge in Gaeta. Louis XII was no more successful in the Neapolitan kingdom than the former claimants of the Angevin house.

Alexander VI was prepared to readjust his position and ally himself with Spain if anything was to be gained. He made proposals to Venice, who betrayed them to France. On May 18 the Pope's confidential secretary, Trocchio, fled from Rome, most probably that he might carry to the French king proofs of the Pope’s machinations against France; he was, however, captured in Corsica, brought back to Rome and strangled by Cesare’s orders. To prepare himself for further activity Alexander VI raised a large sum of money by creating nine new Cardinals. Giustinian computes that the Pope received from 120,000 to 130,000 ducats from his new creations, and also raised 64,000 ducats by the sale of new offices of abbreviators, which he erected in the Curia, already overburdened with extortionate officials. He offered to help Louis XII in an expedition against Naples on condition that Sicily were given to Cesare; and he offered to help Spain if Cesare could thereby gain Siena, Bologna, and Pisa. Cardinal Piccolomini besought Venice to form an Italian League to free Italy from the foreigners; Spain offered Venice its alliance that they might join in settling Italian affairs without the interference of France or the Pope. Every diplomatic possibility was freely discussed, and no one could foresee what would happen. Cesare gathered troops, and at the end of July was said to be preparing for a journey to Perugia; men thought that he meant to make an attack on Siena, perhaps on Tuscany. He showed his troops that he was not a man to be trifled with. Some Albanians quitted his service because they were offended at the captain whom he set over them; Cesare allowed them to leave Rome, but they were pursued and their two ringleaders were put to death, as a warning to the rest of Cesare’s mercenaries.

Still Cesare stayed at Rome, and the Pope's attitude towards France and Spain was still ambiguous. A French army was on its way to relieve Gaeta, and no one knew whether Cesare would join it or no. Meanwhile the weather became extremely hot, and the inhabitants of Rome sickened in great numbers. On August 1 died the Pope’s nephew, Giovanni Borgia, Cardinal of Monreale. Men said that he had “gone the way of the rest”, and that Cesare had poisoned him for his money. On August 13 both Alexander VI and Cesare were attacked by the fever. The Pope was bled, and his attendants remarked with wonder how vigorous was the flow of blood for a man of his age. The fever declared itself to be a tertian, and the exact condition of the Pope was kept as secret as possible; but on August 18 he received the Eucharist and soon after fell into a stupor. His physician was of opinion that the fever was complicated by apoplexy; he rapidly sank, and died on the evening of August 18. Cesare was too ill to visit him; but in the Pope's last moments sent his confidential officer, Michelotto, who with his dagger drawn extorted from the fears of the chamberlain the keys of the papal treasury, and carried off all the plate and some 100,000 ducats in gold.

There is no more striking illustration of the hatred which Alexander VI inspired than the rapid spread of the belief that he died of poison. So many strange things had happened during his pontificate that men could not suppose that it ended in a natural way. There was something wonderful in the fact that the Pope and Cesare were both taken ill at the same time. Their illness declared itself after a supper in the garden of Cardinal Hadrian of Corneto, who was also himself attacked by sickness. It is scarcely surprising that this coincidence should have suggested the idea of poison; and when once the idea was entertained, a story rapidly grew. It was said that a scheme was devised by the Pope and Cesare to poison a wealthy Cardinal, but owing to a mistake of the server the poisoned wine was given to themselves. This story was readily believed, and in some form or other is repeated by all the historians of that time; but it rests on no authentic basis. There is nothing to confirm it in the description of the Pope’s illness as given by eye-witnesses. Rome was in a pestilential condition, and a supper in the open air was not unlikely to lead to an attack of fever. It is not surprising that two men, living under the same conditions and in the same place, should suffer from fever at the same time. Contemporaries saw a proof of the effects of poison in the rapid decomposition of the Pope’s body, which grew black and swollen. This has been repeated by more modern writers, who ought to have known that it was evidence only of the condition of the atmosphere. There is no real reason for attributing the death of Alexander VI to other than natural causes.

The Borgia have become legendary as types of unrestrained wickedness, and it is difficult to judge them fairly without seeming to palliate iniquity. Yet justice demands a consideration how far they represented the tendencies of their age, and how far they went beyond them. The secularized Papacy and the immoral politics of Europe can excite nothing but disgust; but the secularization of the Papacy was begun by Sixtus IV, was as profound under Innocent VIII as under Alexander VI, and was not much mended under Julius II and Leo X. Political perfidy was universal in Italy; and Louis XII and Ferdinand of Aragon were as perfidious as the Pope. The end of the fifteenth century shows the political and social corruption that followed on the decay of religious belief, just as the history of the sixteenth century shows how long a time was needed before a religious revival could re-establish morality or influence politics. The exceptional infamy that attaches to Alexander VI is largely due to the fact that he did not add hypocrisy to his other vices. But however much his own times may have forgotten that there was any meaning in the position of Head of the Christian Church, it is impossible for after times to adopt the same forgetfulness.

Though the career of Alexander VI was that of an active and unscrupulous statesman, yet he was not forgetful of the formal duties of his office. In the year of jubilee, Burchard asked for a remission of some of the obligations for an indulgence on the ground of his duties. Alexander VI did not treat the matter with levity; he considered the application and refused it. Few Popes appeared more frequently in public, or were more attentive to matters of ecclesiastical ceremonial. Alexander VI was a good man of business and was endowed with great activity; he never allowed pleasure to stand in the way of his occupations, and would work till late at night. The dispatches of the various envoys at Rome show us a man who was unsparing of himself, and whose mind was always active. He was not so entirely immersed in politics as to neglect little matters. He regulated the Curia, and saw that salaries were punctually paid, a point of which many Popes were neglectful. In times of scarcity at Rome he organized a corn supply from Sicily, so that the city suffered little from want. He discharged the ecclesiastical duties of his office with the same diligence that he showed in other matters.

Yet Alexander VI was profoundly secular, and was so recognized by his contemporaries. The irregularities of his private life, his open disregard of public opinion, his avowed delight in his children, and his political unscrupulousness, all these combined to emphasize the secular character of his pontificate in a marked manner. It is true that the times in which Alexander VI lived required in a Pope the genius of a statesman. The Papacy as a temporal power was threatened; the political equilibrium of Italy had been shattered by the French invasion, and Alexander VI had been seriously menaced. He awaited his opportunity, and found means to realize the dream of many of his predecessors, by laying the foundation of a strong state in Central Italy. But he did this in a way that filled men with apprehension. In the eyes of churchmen, the lands of the Church were being recovered for Cesare Borgia, and the Borgia family was being set up as supreme disposers of the Papacy. The statesmen of Italy, who were alarmed about themselves, saw for the first time the nature of the papal power in politics, and were terrified at the prospect. Their own states were powerless before the armies of the stranger, and they found themselves suddenly in the presence of interests which their political craft was entirely unable to control. Their perplexity turned to terror when they saw that the Pope was the one Italian power which had a strong position outside Italy. The weakness of other Italian powers was his strength, and by watching his opportunity, he could dispose of them according to his will. Machiavelli’s words explain the hatred felt against Alexander VI; “he was the first who showed how much a Pope, with money and forces, could make his power prevail”.

Moreover, Alexander VI was the only man in Italy who clearly knew what he wanted to do, and who steadily pursued his purpose. Venice was watching affairs with an uneasy jealousy, which it tried to pass off as calculating caution. Florence was helplessly clinging to the French alliance, which it had already found to be worthless. The smaller states were desperately endeavouring to patch up a political system which had been hopelessly shattered, and to form new political combinations which were doomed to fall before the first shock. There was a dim consciousness that all these attempts were futile, and no one ventured to predict the future. A childish belief in good luck took the place of political wisdom, and all the luck seemed to fall to the lot of the Borgia, who came into no misfortune like other folk, and whatever they did prospered. They entered as strangers into the hazardous game of Italian politics, and soon showed that they could play it better than those who thought that it was entirely in their own hands. Alexander VI frankly accepted the principles of the game, but broke through its flimsy conventions; whereon other players felt that their tricks were turned against them by a player of superior skill, and loudly cried out that they were cheated. Alexander VI dealt unscrupulously with unscrupulous men, and played for higher stakes than they had dreamed of. Amongst the uncertain, hesitating, bewildered statesmen of Italy, Alexander VI and Cesare boldly pursued a successful course.

The personal qualities of the Borgia family increased the terror which their success inspired. Alexander VI was full of life and vigor; he was physically and mentally a strong man. His children, Cesare and Lucrezia, showed the same marvelous capacity of adapting themselves to circumstances, and winning from life all that it had to give. Alexander VI combined great natural gifts with great power of self-restraint. He had a large and strong nature, which he worked and directed to his purposes. His active brain was always devising fresh schemes. His keen intelligence was trained by diligent observation; but he was not naturally qualified to be a statesman, to intrigue, and to calculate. Handsome, joyous, and genial, he was best fitted to attract ladies by his winning ways, and cajole them by his honeyed speeches. He was amiable and pleasant, a man who wished to enjoy life himself, and make others enjoy it. When he entered upon a political career, he carried into it the same zest, the same eagerness, the same clear purpose of getting all that was to be got. He had a boyish frankness in the pursuit of his object which was taken for profound dissimulation. He was fertile in forming schemes, which he discussed with an energy and sincerity which were almost convincing at the time; if any practical difficulty occurred, he was equally ready the next day with an entirely different plan, about which he was equally in earnest. He was childishly delighted when his schemes succeeded; his extreme fertility of invention made him almost unconscious when they failed. He was constantly talking, and found it almost impossible to keep a secret. The ambassadors at his court were entirely baffled by him, and took for duplicity this restlessness of a mind which retained in old age the vigor of youth. Cesare Borgia did not inherit this openness of his father, which indeed seems to have annoyed him. When he was at Rome he kept much to himself, and did his best to avoid interviews with ambassadors, nor did he appear with the Pope in public business. Giustinian tells of a scene which shows the characteristics of the two men. In May, 1503, Alexander VI urged, as he had done before, a close alliance between himself and Venice. He spoke with feeling, and showed on his face deep concern. He sent for Cesare to take a walk in the vineyard, and when Cesare entered he casually mentioned the subject of conversation, and repeated what he had said; whereon Giustinian repeated his answer. Cesare stood immovable, and only muttered a few words in Spanish to the Pope, who thereupon taxed Venice with betraying his counsels to the French king—a charge which Giustinian denied, but which was nevertheless true.

We see the two men; Alexander VI impetuous, eager, full of great designs; Cesare cold, cautious, keen-eyed, and suspicious. There was complete confidence and sympathy between the two; but at times, Cesare was contemptuous of his father's garrulity, and at times Alexander VI thought Cesare needlessly prudent and too much given to use the high hand. Men said in Rome that the Pope was afraid of his son.

The frankness and amiability of Alexander VI were not qualities which did him any service; they rather added to the terror which he inspired. Alexander VI genuinely wished people to agree with him, and tried his utmost to lead them as he would have them to go; unfortunately his way lay in a direction contrary to their interests, and it only added bitterness to their sense of helplessness that the Pope tried by his geniality to gain their assent to their own ruin. It is hard to combine entire resoluteness with kindliness; and sympathy which is not accompanied by concession is looked upon as hypocrisy. Alexander VI’s policy required that he should act tyrannically; it was no comfort to the sufferers to be assured that tyranny went against the Pope’s grain, and that he wished them to take a sensible view of the situation.

The desire of Alexander VI to do unpleasant things in a pleasant manner may be illustrated by Giustinian’s account of what happened in Rome after the imprisonment of Cardinal Orsini. The suddenness of the stroke threw the city into terror; there were rumors of impending punishments, and many sought safety by flight. The Pope sent for the city magistrates that he might restore confidence; he assured them that he had made all the arrests which he intended; they might live in peace and quietness under an equal rule, before which Colonna and Orsini would be both as one; if no new cause for complaint were given him he would forget all old grievances. Then he added with a laugh, “See that you make fine shows this Carnival time. Let men enjoy themselves, and they will forget all their suspicions”.

It is no wonder that this light-heartednes awakened terror and made the Pope seem almost inhuman. Yet it was quite natural to him to turn lightly from one thing to another. He was keen in politics and keen in enjoyment. He seems always to have lived at the highest pressure, and never to have felt the strain of life. He worked hard, but he was always buoyant; he never showed fear, and he was ready to enter into any form of amusement. He sat at his windows and laughed heartily at the buffooneries of the Carnival; he delighted to see handsome women engaging in the dance, and often had comedies acted in his presence. In all his enjoyments he was frank, and paid no heed to conventional decorum. In February, 1503, he gave a public festival in the Vatican, at which a comedy was performed. Many Cardinals were present, some in their robes, others in masquerade costumes. Fair ladies thronged round the Pope's seat, and some were seated on footstools at his feet. There was nothing wicked in this; but it was certainly indecorous, and such scenes were easily exaggerated into scandals.

In truth Alexander VI lived in the moment, and was thorough both in his pleasures and in his business. He was so interested in what he was doing that he lost all sense of its moral aspect, and he went beyond all his contemporaries in his disregard of social decorum and of diplomatic conventions. His reputation has suffered for his frankness. The larger elements of vigorous life, which made him greater than those around him, were looked upon as signs of more deliberate wickedness. His undisguised affection for his children, his natural impulsiveness, his geniality and good humour, were all put down to unnatural feelings or to sinister motives.

In his private life it is sufficiently clear that he was at little pains to repress a strongly sensual nature. Yet he was by no means universally self-indulgent, but was sparing in food and drink, was satisfied with little sleep, and was above the temptations of luxury and indolence. We may hesitate to believe the worst charges brought against him, but the evidence is too strong to enable us to admit that even after his accession to the papal office he discontinued the irregularities of his previous life. The Vatican was frequently the scene of indecent orgies, at which the Pope did not scruple to be present. Men shrugged their shoulders at these things, and few in Rome were seriously shocked. The age was corrupt, and the Pope’s example sanctioned its corruption.

Alexander VI had no friends because his policy was manifestly a personal policy and was carried on for the good of his own family. He was profuse in the creation of Cardinals, but none of them were men of mark, or felt much gratitude towards their patron. Alexander VI was genial and friendly; but after the fall of Ascanio Sforza no one felt that they could trust to his favor. He wanted instruments not advisers, and made use of men like Ferrari; but Cesare Borgia was the only man whom he trusted. The Cardinals felt that they were helpless and had to give way; if they resisted, the Pope in a business-like manner reduced them to obedience. Cardinal Rovere was an instance of the uselessness of opposition : he resisted as long as he had any hope of French help: then he became reconciled with the Pope, but was a doubtful friend and watched an opportunity to oppose him. Alexander VI was afraid of his influence with the French king, and in June, 1502, dispatched his secretary Trocchio and the Cardinal d'Albret to inveigle Giuliano at Savona; the plan was to invite him on board their galley and then set sail for Rome, but Giuliano escaped by refusing the invitation. Alexander VI was not revengeful and had no objection to opposition provided it was harmless for practical purposes. Capello says that the Cardinal of Lisbon spoke openly against the Pope; but the Pope only laughed and did not answer. He was satisfied to know that the Cardinals could do nothing against his will.

There was not much moral sense in Europe to be shocked by the conduct of Alexander VI. Men did not say much about it, for it was useless to talk when there was no obvious method of mending matters. Now and then the old call for a Council was renewed, and longings for reform were hidden in many hearts. But there was no opening for any definite effort, and right-thinking men said little of the shame they felt. We catch a glimpse, however, of the common talk of Europe in an ironical letter addressed by some German knights to the Pope. They had been summoned to Rome, to answer for wrongs done by them to the Abbey of Wesenberg near Speyer, and wrote to excuse themselves for not appearing. They were not scholars, they pleaded, and could do nothing in Rome; but they were good Christians, and served a good master, the Pfalzgraf, “who worships God, adorns His temples, loves justice, hates vice, was never accused of adultery, nor even of an indecent act or word, who is truthful and upright”. They go on to make a profession of their faith :

“We believe in one Church and one Roman See, to which each Catholic head ascends, not by bribery, but by just election; nor does he defile that highest dignity by evil manners or bad example; nor does he cast stumbling-blocks in the way of the sheep redeemed by Christ’s blood, but is the universal father and judge, whom all men are bound to obey. We believe, too, in a just God, who will punish with eternal fire all sins, such as robbery, sacrilege, pride, violence, vanity, abuse of Christ's patrimony, concubinage, simony, and other horrible crimes, through which the Christian religion totters and Christians of every age are scandalized”.

The reference to the Pope's manner of life was so clear, that Burchard has preserved this letter as one of the many good stories current in the year of jubilee. The times were indeed evil when a rehearsal of the rudiments of Christian morality became a witticism by their manifest contrast to the life of the Head of the Church. It is not his contemporaries, but the writers of the next generation who have branded Alexander VI as a monster of iniquity. This fact is a sign of an awakening conscience in Italy, when it began to see the havoc which its corruption had wrought. Of this corruption the pontificate of Alexander VI marked the highest point. Before that time the degradation of the Papacy had been gradual; in Alexander VI the Papacy stood forth in all the strength of its emancipation from morality. Italy recognized how completely it was secularized when they saw it pursuing objects of its own outside the limits of Italian interests. The traditions of priestly life were gone, and the Papacy no longer represented Christian morality in the international relations of Europe. Its self-seeking was open and avowed : it joined with glee in the scramble for Italy which foreign invaders had begun. We cannot wonder that, in an after age, men detached Alexander VI and Cesare Borgia from their place in history and clothed them with abnormal wickedness; that they pictured as monsters the men of alien race who, in a time of general helplessness, schemed to exalt themselves by erecting an Italian monarchy on the basis of a secularized Church.

CHAPTER XII.

THE FALL OF CESARE BORGIA. PIUS III—JULIUS II.

1503-1504.

The unexpected death of Alexander VI, at a time when Cesare was confined to bed by sickness, was a contingency for which Cesare was not prepared; still his position was a strong one, as Rome was filled with his troops. On the other hand, the Spanish army was close to Rome, while the French forces were still at some distance. Under any circumstances the Orsini were sure to rise and attempt the recovery of their possessions; as it was, Cesare could not take the field against them or secure himself from their machinations in Rome. He felt that he could not stand alone, and promptly made overtures to the Colonna party, whom he had only deprived of their castles, whereas he had shed the blood of the Orsini. His overtures were not rejected; the Colonna were willing to oppose the Orsini, but were not likely to lend Cesare effective help for his own purposes.

Cesare’s position was attacked on every side at once. Round Rome the Orsini gathered troops; in the Romagna the dispossessed lords prepared to return, and Venice was ready to help them, in hopes of sharing the spoil. Cesare could only resist them if he were supported by the Papacy, and his first object was to secure the election of a Pope who would be in his interest, or who at least would feel himself obliged to lean on his protection. Everything depended on Cesare’s power of managing the Conclave. He must exercise his influence decidedly, without giving any plausible ground for complaint of undue pressure. For this purpose, the attitude of a sick and helpless man had some advantages. If Cesare could not act openly with all the insolence of over­bearing power, the next best thing was to make his enforced inactivity serve as a cloak for his schemes.

Amongst the Cardinals were seventeen Spaniards, on whose fidelity Cesare relied. The question was, if they were strong enough to carry their own candidate; and this depended on the number of Cardinals present at the election, and on the pressure which Cesare could indirectly bring to bear. Cesare could scarcely flatter himself that the College of Cardinals as a whole was devoted to his interests; but he might so manage matters that they would not venture to elect a Pope openly hostile to himself. The situation was very delicate and depended on small matters for its issue.

The first to move was Cardinal Caraffa, who immediately after Alexander VI's death summoned his brother Cardinals to meet in the Church of S. Maria sopra Minerva. They took precautions for guarding the city, and ordered an inventory to be made of the late Pope’s goods; luckily one room had escaped the scrutiny of Michelotto, and in it were found precious stones to the value of 25,000 ducats. Next day they met again and sent a message to Cesare, that they could not enter the Conclave in the Vatican till the Castle of S. Angelo was in their hands. On this Don Michele made an armed demonstration by riding with 200 horse into the Piazza of Minerva. The citizens were alarmed, and offered to protect the Cardinals, who answered they had no fear. That night barricades were erected in the streets, which made them impassable for horsemen. Cesare saw that it was useless to attempt any form of intimidation, and from his sick bed he disavowed his agent. He ordered the governor of the Castle of S. Angelo to take an oath of allegiance to the Cardinals; he explained that he only kept his troops in Rome for his personal safety, till he was well enough to travel; he professed the most dutiful obedience towards the College. Really he was seeking the political support of Spain; he gathered round him the Spanish Cardinals, pursued his negotiations with the Colonna, and professed himself entirely in the Spanish interest. Eleven Cardinals declared that they would elect a Spanish Pope, or would cause a schism. Cesare sent galleys and troops to prevent his chief enemy, Cardinal Rovere, from entering Rome.

The Cardinals who wished to make an independent election found it no easy matter. On the one side they were exposed to the pressure of Spain, on the other side to the pressure of France. They besought Venice to send troops for their protection; when Venice cautiously refused they found that they could not dispense with Cesare, and offered to confirm him in his office of Gonfaloniere of the Church provided that all his captains took an oath of allegiance to the College. Cesare was not prepared to give way so far. Probably at his instigation Prospero Colonna entered Rome with 100 horse on August 23 : he was followed next day by Fabio Orsini, and Rome was disturbed by brawls between the rival factions. Cesare hoped that the Cardinals would turn to him for help : they turned instead to the ambassadors present in Rome, and besought them to guarantee the withdrawal of all troops to a distance of ten miles from the city; the Colonna, the Orsini, and Cesare were alike to withdraw. This was agreed; but as soon as the Orsini were gone Cesare found that the state of his health prevented him from leaving Rome, and that he would not be safe outside the walls of the Vatican. He was offered an abode in the Castle of S. Angelo, and long negotiations went on about the number of his attendants.

At last it became clear to Cesare that it was dangerous to delay the election longer, that he could not hope to stay in Rome and overawe the College, but must trust to the activity of his adherents in the Conclave. On September 1 he agreed to retire and withdraw his troops, on condition that the College took his person under their protection, gave him full liberty of passing through the territory of the Church, and used their influence to prevent Venice from helping his enemies in the Romagna. On September 2, borne in a litter, he departed from Rome with his troops, his cannon, and his goods; he went first to Tivoli, and thence to Nepi, and Cività Castellana

Cesare's departure was followed by the arrival in Rome of Cardinal Rovere, who at once began to take a the leading part in the intrigues about the papal election. Louis XII thought that he had a claim on one whom he had so long protected, and commended to him his favorite, Georges d'Amboise, whose election he was anxious to secure. But Rovere at once cast aside all his obligations to the French king. “I am here”, he said, “to do my own business, not that of others. I will not vote for the Cardinal of Rouen unless I see that he has so many votes that he will be elected without mine”. He put himself at the head of the Italian party and wished to secure his own election. Besides him there flocked to Rome the other Cardinals who had fled before Alexander VI, Colonna and Raffaelle Riario. Finally on September 10 came the Cardinal Amboise, bringing with him the Cardinal of Aragon, brother of the dispossessed Federigo of Naples, and Ascanio Sforza, who was released from his long captivity in Bourges that he might give his vote in the French interest. Ascanio, however, was no sooner in Rome than he began to scheme in his own behalf.

When on September 16 the thirty-seven Cardinals entered the Conclave every one was doubtful about the issue of the election. At first each party put forward its own candidate. The Spaniards chose Cardinal of Castro, a native of Valencia; the French worked for the Cardinal of Rouen; the Italians were divided between Giuliano della Rovere and Ascanio Sforza. The first scrutiny on September 21 showed that the voting was very scattered, but Amboise, Rovere, and Castro were almost equal. It was not a time which admitted of delay, and all parties had already contemplated the probability of a compromise. The night was spent in private colloquies, till at last Amboise and Ascanio Sforza agreed on Cardinal Piccolomini, who proved to be generally acceptable. His election was at once accepted, and was formally made and announced on the morning of September 22.

Francesco Todeschini de' Piccolomini was sister’s son of Pope Pius II, by whom he had been raised to the Cardinalate. He was a man of considerable learning and great personal amiability, who had lived a quiet and simple life. He had been employed in several legations and had discharged his public duties with tact. His character stood high in all men's estimation, though he was the father of a large family of children. He had held aloof from the political intrigues which had so largely occupied the activity of the Cardinals under the last three Popes, was not committed to any party and had offended no one. He had always been on good terms with Alexander VI, and Cesare Borgia expected to find in him a friend. His election awakened no animosity, but every one foresaw that his pontificate would be brief, as he was sixty-four years old, and suffered from an abscess in his leg which threatened to be fatal before long.

The new Pope took the name of Pius III in memory of his uncle. He had at once to face the question of his relations with Cesare Borgia, whose dominions began at once to fall in pieces. Venice supplied troops to Guidubaldo, who advanced into his former duchy of Urbino; Jacopo d'Appiano returned to Piombino; Pandolfo Malatesta occupied Rimini; Giovanni Sforza entered Pesaro; even the nephews of Vitellozzo were welcomed in Città di Castello. There was a general restoration of those whom Cesare had ousted from their states. In the Romagna an attempt was made, with the aid of Venetian troops, against Cesena, but the governor was loyal to Cesare and Cesena still held out. The day after his election Pius III expressed to the Venetian envoy his surprise that Venice should have helped in disturbing the peace of Italy. Giustinian answered that it was natural for the dispossessed lords to seek their own. “God”, said the Pope, “has willed to chastise them for their sins, though it might be with a sorry instrument”. He added with a smile that perhaps God might restore them after they had done sufficient penance. The envoy gathered that the Pope was under obligations to the Spanish Cardinals, and could not take up a hostile attitude towards Cesare. When Cardinal Rovere petitioned for the restoration of his nephew Francesco to Sinigaglia, the Pope gently but firmly refused. On September 25 he issued a brief reproving the chiefs of the league against Cesare, and bidding them cease from their attacks upon the Church.

Pius III had no affection for Cesare, who had carried away from the Vatican everything that he could and had left the treasury laden with debts. But Pius III desired peace above all things. “We will not”, he said, “allow any one to bring war on Italy under pretence of helping us”. He spoke of reforming the Church, and thought that Cesare might be left to the judgment of heaven. Cesare for his part was anxious to secure himself in Rome before taking up arms, and his illness gave him a plausible pretext. On October 3 he returned to Rome, bringing with him only 150 men-at-arms, 500 infantry, and a few cavalry; still he spoke confidently, and said that he would soon enjoy his own again. His enemies pointed out the danger of a rising of the Orsini, and urged the Pope to order him to disarm. Pius III listened but did nothing, and Cesare had great hopes of winning his good will. But fortune was adverse to Cesare’s plans; on October 14 the Pope, who had been suffering much from his leg, was seized with fever, and the Orsini on this news set a watch to prevent Cesare from leaving Rome. He attempted to make his escape, but was so hotly pursued that he judged it wise to return, and took refuge in the Castle of S. Angelo, where he was regarded as a prisoner, and was only allowed two attendants.

The expectations which led to the election of Pius III were soon fulfilled. He died on October 18, to the regret of all those who wished for peace. No sooner was he dead than the Orsini demanded of the Cardinals that they should keep Cesare in ward till the election of a new Pope; but the death of Pius IImade Cesare again a person of some importance. He commanded the votes of the Spanish Cardinals, which would be weighty in deciding the new election. The possible candidates were regarded as Caraffa, Rovere, and Riario; the chances of Georges d'Amboise had gone, those of Rovere had risen. It was not in Cesare’s power to procure the election of one of his own party, or of the Cardinal of Rouen; but it was still possible for him to prevent that of Rovere. It was still possible, if he was driven to desperation, that a disputed election might lead to another schism. The Cardinals would not provoke him; they declared him free to stay in the Castle of S. Angelo or go at his pleasure.

Cardinal Revere meanwhile pursued his candidature openly by promises and bribes. Giustinian, ordered by Venice to favor his election, wrote home that contracts were made in public, no expense was spared, the pontificate was put up to auction for the highest bidder. Cesare Borgia saw that he could do nothing better than make a good bargain with Cardinal Rovere. On October 29 there was a secret meeting between the two, and Rovere undertook to confirm Cesare as Gonfaloniere of the Church, to restore him in the Romagna, and give his nephew, with his claims on Sinigaglia, in marriage to Cesare’s daughter. He said, with a smile to the Venetian ambassador, that men in a strait were often driven to do what they did not wish; when they were freed they did otherwise. He was prepared to do anything to secure the Papacy, and his plans were so well laid that when the Cardinals entered the Conclave on October 31 no one had any doubt of the result. Even the name to be assumed by the new Pope was known, and had been engraved on the papal ring to be ready at once. The Conclave was almost held in public, as the window of the door was not closed. The proceedings were purely formal, and scarcely occupied an hour. On November 1 it was announced that Cardinal Rovere was elected Pope, and had assumed the name of Julius II.

The new Pope wished at first to be on good terms with everyone. He heaped dignities on the Cardinal of Rouen; he took Cesare Borgia under his protection and gave him rooms in the Vatican; at the same time he assured Venice of his good will and of his gratitude. But he let it be known that he had a policy of his own about the Romagna. “Our promise to Cesare”, he said, “extends to the safety of his life and goods; but his states must return to the Church, and we wish for the honor of recovering what our predecessors have wrongly alienated”. The Venetians by no means took this view of the situation. They had promoted the election of Julius II because they reckoned on his hostility to Cesare Borgia to help their plan of restoring the dispossessed lords of the Romagna in dependence upon themselves.

It is a noticeable feature of the times that the Pope’s coronation was deferred till November 26 because the “astrologers promised on that day a lucky conjunction of the stars”. The adventurous politics of Italy, being founded on no definite principles, were supposed to be influenced by luck. Cesare Borgia’s good fortune excited the admiration of Machiavelli, and Julius II was anxious to begin his pontificate under a lucky star. He had already formed his own plans, but he was in no haste to declare them. He did not intend to allow Venice to extend its dominion over the Romagna. He had no forces at his command to prevent them, and determined meanwhile to make use of the influence of Cesare Borgia for that end. Some castles in the Romagna were still held in Cesare’s name; he might be useful in resisting the Venetians. Accordingly, on November 19 Cesare with 130 horsemen was permitted to leave Rome for Ostia, whence he was to proceed by sea to some Florentine port. The Florentines, through fear of Venice, were willing to give him passage through their territory and help him to reach Imola.

Immediately after Cesare’s departure came the news that Faenza was on the point of falling before the Venetians. Julius II spent a sleepless night; he was afraid lest the appearance of Cesare should create such dread of his vengeance that the other cities of the Romagna would throw themselves into the hands of Venice. Next day he sent the Cardinal of Volterra to Ostia to make a new agreement with Cesare. He asked that Cesare should order his captains to surrender into the hands of the Pope the fortresses which they still held in the Romagna, on condition that they should be restored to Cesare when the danger from Venice was past. This plan had been previously discussed, but Julius II put it aside, saying that he would break faith with no man. He now resumed it; but Cesare, rejoicing in his newly acquired liberty, refused to consent. It was the last act in Cesare’s political career. Julius II instantly sent orders that his galley should not be allowed to set sail from Ostia, and commanded the troops to be disbanded which were being sent by land to aid him. On November 29 Cesare returned to Rome and was committed to the care of one of the Cardinals. His course was run; but he was still useful as a means of enabling Julius II to get into his hands the fortresses of the Romagna. Guidubaldo of Urbino came to Rome and Cesare Borgia had an interview with the man whom he had so greatly wronged. The result of this meeting was that Cesare gave up to Guidubaldo the watch­word of his castles in the Romagna, and restored the books and tapestries which he had carried off from the palace of Urbino.

Julius II at once sent to take possession of the castles; but the Captain of Cesena refused to receive orders from a master who was kept a prisoner, and even hanged the Pope's messenger. Julius II was angry at this failure of his schemes, and ordered Cesare to be confined in the Castle of S. Angelo. The Spanish Cardinals strove to procure his liberation. There was a plan that he should go to Cività Castellana under the guardianship of one of the Cardinals, and as soon as the castles were surrendered to the Pope, should be set at liberty; but the Cardinal chosen for the office of guardian found that his health did not permit him to undertake this perilous duty. Cesare still remained in Rome, and Julius II showed growing anger against Venice.

France and Spain were still engaged in war about Naples, but the defeat of the French on the Garigliano and the consequent surrender of Gaeta saw the Spaniards in entire possession of Naples in the beginning of 1504. Julius II was disappointed at this result, for he had more to hope from France than from Spain. He was, however, careful to preserve an appearance of neutrality, though he showed his humanity to the French fugitives, who in the depth of winter made their way almost naked to Rome. The Romans remembered too well what they had suffered from French arrogance, and left the unhappy men to die in crowds upon the dung heaps where they sought shelter. The Pope clothed and fed as many as he could, and provided for their passage to France. In February a truce for three years was concluded between France and Spain, though every one knew that it was hollow.

Julius II had no better object to pursue than the possession of the castles which were still held for Cesare—Cesena, Forli and Bertinoro. The captains were faithful, and refused to give them up to the Pope till their master was at liberty. Long negotiations were carried on between Julius II, Cesare, and the castellans; negotiations which the Venetian envoy found “more intricate than the labyrinth”. Julius II could not obtain the castles without Cesare’s consent, and Cesare wished to secure his freedom before he consented. At last it was agreed that Cesare should go to Ostia under the charge of the Cardinal of S. Croce, who should set him at liberty as soon as he was satisfied with the arrangements for the surrender of the castles. When this was done the captains of Cesena and Bertinoro were ready to admit the Pope's forces, but the captain of Forli demanded 15,000 ducats for payment of his troops. On this new difficulties arose, and Julius II was so ungenerous as to require Cesare to give security for this sum. Cesare at last agreed, and on April 19 the Cardinal of S. Croce declared that Cesare had done all that was in his power and allowed him to set out for Naples. Julius II was by no means pleased with the Cardinal of S. Croce, who acted on his own responsibility, because he was afraid that the Pope would raise fresh difficulties as a means for keeping Cesare in his power.

Cesare was welcomed in Naples by Gonsalvo de Cordova, who gave him an ample safe-conduct. His friends gathered round him, and he looked for some opportunity to restore himself to a position of importance in political affairs. He proposed to go to the help of Pisa against Florence; but a rising in Piombino gave him a more favourable opening. He was preparing to lead troops thither, and was on the point of setting out, when on May 26 he was made prisoner by Gonsalvo’s orders. This was done by the command of Ferdinand of Spain, moved thereto by the representations of Julius II that Cesare was bent on disturbing the peace of Italy. Anyhow it was a treacherous deed, and Gonsalvo felt it to be such. His first care after Cesare’s imprisonment was to recover the safe-conduct which he had given him and destroy it. Even prejudiced by­standers like the Venetian ambassadors judged the conduct of the Spanish king to be dishonorable. In his second captivity Cesare Borgia despaired of any further power in Italy. He wrote to the captain of Forli that "fortune had grown too angry with him" and ordered the surrender of the castle to the Pope. This was done on August 10, and ten days afterwards Cesare was released from prison in Naples and was sent to Spain. There he remained in close confinement for two years, though his brother-in-law, Jean d'Albret, King of Navarre, pleaded for his release. At length a plan of escape was contrived, and in November, 1506, Cesare fled from his prison and took refuge in Navarre. There he took arms in the service of the king against his rebellious vassal the Count of Lerin, and besieged the castle of Viana. The Count of Lerin made a sortie which was repulsed, and Cesare followed hotly in pursuit. The Count met with reinforcements and faced upon his pursuers, who fled in turn. Cesare, with only one companion, stood his ground till he was overwhelmed and slain on March 12, 1507.

Cesare Borgia’s fate was the same as that of his predecessors who had trusted to the favor of an individual Pope as a means of procuring a political position in Italy. He differed from them only because he was more resolutely supported by a Pope who was his father, and who was free from any restraints imposed by his office or by his sympathy with the political feeling of Italy. Alexander VI had frankly set forward as the great object of his policy the advancement of his son. Cesare had brought to his task considerable capacity, and the state of Italian affairs had given scope to his cleverness. Resolute and unscrupulous, this stranger had acted boldly on the principles which Italian statesmen adopted without daring to admit. They had only to apply their principles upon a small scale, to maintain or readjust what they already possessed; Cesare had to begin his career from the beginning, and did so with a thoroughness and precision which awakened the mingled terror and admiration of bystanders. He was resolute to acquire and strong to maintain. He attacked his enemies with their own weapons. He remorselessly swept all obstacles from his course, and used at every moment the means which the vicissitudes of affairs placed at his disposal. But he aimed at justifying his violent measures by his good government of his conquests. He brought law and order into the Romagna, as it had never been before, and his subjects regretted his downfall. He knew that his design was hazardous, and that he had but a short time in which to work it out; in the supreme moment of his fortunes fate was against him and his prosperity crumbled away.

The exceptional odium which Cesare Borgia inspired is due partly to the terror caused by his rapid success, and partly to his personal character. It was not so much his violent and treacherous deeds which horrified his contemporaries as his strange and mysterious life. A man might smile and be a villain, and his villainy was easily overlooked; but Cesare rarely smiled, and practised duplicity from mere love of the art. He made no friends; he gathered no body of followers; he eschewed the intercourse of his fellows except when his own designs required it. He affected darkness and seclusion; he enshrouded even his licentiousness in mystery; he spoke to his father in Spanish in the presence of others; he avoided all visitors, and refused to talk even with his own followers. Perhaps he deliberately chose to act as a foil to his father's restless garrulity; perhaps he thought that an affectation of secrecy was best calculated to help his plans. At all events he succeeded in creating universal dread. In his misfortunes he was pitied by few, and after his fall the sense of relief from the presence of one who would not let himself be understood swept away all the admiration which his success inspired.

Yet the career of Cesare Borgia was a great epoch in Italian politics. It made all men dimly conscious of the direction in which they were tending. It showed them that Italy had become the prey of adventurers, and they shuddered at the thought. The ordinary man, who looked to the past, laid upon Cesare the blame of originating the state of things which he used. A political thinker like Machiavelli strove to construct the only possible ideal of the future, that a prince, endowed like Cesare, but with more than Cesare’s good fortune, should follow in Cesare’s steps. The only hope that he saw for Italy, divided and helpless, was the resolute brain and the strong hand of one who would heal her breaches by the only means of which the times admitted.

CHAPTER XIII.

FIRST PLANS OF JULIUS II

1504—1506.

The removal of Cesare Borgia from Italy was of little service to Julius II, save that it cleared the way for his open hostility to Venice. Venice had been eager in promoting the election of Julius II to the Papacy, in the hope that his animosity against Cesare Borgia would lead him to acquiesce in a Venetian protectorate over the Romagna, and was disappointed when Julius II showed a resolute determination to recover the Romagna for the Church. But the Pope was powerless, and bitterly resented his impotence. So long as Cesare was still an object of dread he was driven to temporize; but when Cesare was imprisoned in Naples, he said with a smile to the Venetian envoy that now Venice had no excuse for keeping the lands of the Church. “Venice”, he added, “makes both herself and me the slaves of every one—herself that she may keep, me that I may win back. But for this we might have been united to find some way to free Italy from foreigners”. It was a remarkable confession that Julius II saw clearly whither the course of his policy would lead. Rather than endure the action of Venice he would be the “slave of every one”, and would try every possible combination to win back from Venice its ill-gotten gains. Yet at the bottom of his heart he was an Italian patriot, and longed for the freedom of his country from the yoke of foreigners. He regretted that Venice had thought fit to behave so as to compel him in self-defence to rivet more firmly his country’s chains. Italian patriotism was a distant ideal, which he was compelled to sacrifice to the needs of the present.

It was always so in Italian history. Large considerations of general utility were in the background awaiting a convenient season. The liberator was always preparing himself for the task. There was just one enemy to overcome by any means that could be found, and then a nobler policy would be possible. Italy was ruined beyond redemption by the selfishness of her rulers before the favorable opportunity arrived. The struggles of the Italian states against one another were justified by constant expectation of some general benefit which never was attained. Local patriotism dictated treachery to the common interest. Treason to Italy was committed with a sigh in vague hope of some splendid act of reparation. Patriotism was on all men’s lips, but no one dared to set an example of patriotic self-sacrifice. Men sinned with the knowledge that they were sinning, but were helpless to see how they could avoid sinning without running the risk of destruction.

Of all this Julius II was fully conscious. His experience of France enabled him to see whither Italy was tending. He had seen how cruel were the tender mercies of the foreigner; he had heard the jests of the invader, and had witnessed the havoc which he wrought. His position as Pope enabled him, had he wished, to act upon his knowledge and set an example of patriotic forbearance. The Papacy could afford to wait for the Romagna, and Julius II might well have hesitated to seize all that had been won by the crooked ways of Alexander VI. But Julius II was too entirely an Italian to escape from the unblushing self-seeking of his time: he was too obstinate, too self-willed, to sacrifice anything to which he considered that he had a claim. He had invoked French help to do him right when he was Cardinal; as Pope he was ready “to be the slave of every one”, rather than sit down patiently under a sense of wrong. He desired to free Italy from the stranger, but first he would use the stranger to humble the pride of Venice. There was in this a cynical consciousness of political wrong-doing that is as revolting as the frank unscrupulousness of Alexander VI.

“We will do our duty, and will use all possible means for the preservation of our honour and the maintenance of the Church. The Venetians wish to treat us as their chaplain, but that they shall never do”. So spoke Julius II, and Venice would have been wise to give way. But the Venetians trusted that they would wear out the Pope’s firmness, and would not abandon their policy of cautiously grasping at every opportunity of aggrandizement. In this they had been so successful that they had awakened universal jealousy, and the Italian powers looked with dread on the advance of Venice towards universal rule in Italy. Maximilian complained of its aggressions on the imperial territory; Ferdinand of Spain grudged the towns which Venice held in the Neapolitan domains; Alexander VI had seen in Venice the great obstacle to his plans for Cesare, and had striven to raise up a coalition against her. The diplomatic intrigues of the rulers of Europe made it easy for Julius II to revive the idea of a dismemberment of Venice. He exhorted Maximilian to enter Italy, protect the Church, and come to Rome to receive the imperial crown. He sent envoys to France and Spain, begging them to unite and recover from Venice all that she had unjustly acquired; her spoil would pay the expenses of the war, and would be a rich recompense for the undertaking. His proposals were embodied in the treaty which was signed at Blois, on September 22, 1504, between Louis XII, Maximilian, and his son the Archduke Philip. This treaty expresses the desire of Louis XII to secure the alliance of Maximilian against Spain at any cost. He had no intention to carry out a plan for securing to the house of Austria an almost universal monarchy; yet the treaty provided that Philip's son Charles, who was heir to Maximilian on one side, and to Ferdinand and Isabella on the other, should marry Claude of France, and receive in dowry the French claims on Milan, Genoa, Burgundy, and the heritage of Brittany. To separate the Pope from Spain, and to prevent him from making any accord with Venice, another treaty provided for an alliance with him against Venice to win back the territories of which she had deprived the confederates.

If Julius II rejoiced when this treaty was concluded, he was doomed to speedy disappointment. Its immediate object in the eyes of Louis XII, a separation between the house of Austria and Spain, was achieved by other means. The death of Isabella of Castile on November 26 caused a more serious breach between Ferdinand and the Austrian house. The Archduke Philip claimed the regency of Castile by virtue of his wife Joanna, the daughter of Ferdinand and Isabella; but Ferdinand had been too long accustomed to rule in his wife’s name to give up his power without a struggle. He strove to win over Louis XII to his side, and a little reflection convinced Louis that the treaty of Blois was dangerous to the interests of France. The plan for the partition of the Venetian territories was suspended while Ferdinand negotiated with Louis XII. But Venice was well informed of what had been devised against her, and was somewhat alarmed. Both the Pope and Venice were keenly watchful of political possibilities. Venice thought it wise to abstain from awaking further animosity by attempting to extend her hold on the Romagna. The Pope, as he saw the chances of an attack on Venice grow more remote, was disposed to secure what he could obtain at present. Negotiations were cautiously carried on by the mediation of the Duke of Urbino, and Venice undertook to restore all her conquests in the Romagna except Rimini and Faenza. Julius II, conducted his negotiations with consummate skill. He received all that Venice would give, but avoided any guarantee for her right to retain Rimini and Faenza, When pressed for a brief to confirm the accord with Venice, Julius II replied, “It is not in our power to alienate the lands of the Church. I have done enough in pledging my word”. It was clear that the papal accord was worth nothing; it was only a recognition that nothing better could be done at the present. Venice could only hope that the confederates who sought her ruin might find employment in other matters, or that the Pope might be involved in some difficulty.

The fixed idea of Julius II was to carry on the schemes of territorial aggrandizement which Sixtus IV had begun and which Alexander VI had so successfully continued; but Julius II had a horror of the doings of the Borgia, and wished to emphasize his desire to abolish all their traditions. What Alexander VI had done ignobly as a means of enriching his son, Julius II would do with persistent resoluteness for the glory of the Church. He had no other aim than his predecessors; he was not much more scrupulous in his choice of means than they had been; but his aim was clear and was not mixed with personal considerations, so that it gained in grandeur as it was made intelligible. Men feared and hated Julius II, but they respected him, and his fiery impetuosity lent him a dignity which was wanting to the supple Alexander VI. He did nothing to raise the Church from its purely secular course of policy, but he succeeded in making that policy respectable.

For this purpose he emphasized the difference between himself and Alexander VI; and in 1504 deprived Rodrigo Borgia of the Duchy of Sermoneta, which he restored to the Gaetani. In his Bull of restitution he openly gave as his reasons, “Our predecessor desiring to enrich his own kin, through no zeal for justice but by fraud and deceit, sought for causes of depriving the Gaetani of their possession”. Rarely had a Pope been so outspoken in condemning the man whom he succeeded in the Chair of S. Peter.

Though Julius II abandoned nepotism as a political weapon, he did not forget the claims of his relations. In his first creation of Cardinals there were two of the Rovere family; in his second creation there was another. His nephew Francesco Maria, son of the Prefect, was adopted by his childless uncle, Guidubaldo of Urbino, as heir to his duchy, so that he needed no special favor from the Pope, The marriage of another nephew, Niccolò della Rovere, was curious, and seemed to show a desire on the part of Julius II to quit old scores and live in charity with all men. In November, 1505, Niccolò was married in the Vatican to Laura, the reputed daughter of Orsino de' Orsini, but whose parentage was generally attributed to Alexander VI. It was clear that the antipathy which Julius II felt to Alexander VI rested on personal and political grounds, not on moral reprobation. Julius II, like his predecessor, was a father, and his daughter Felice was welcomed in Rome; but his parental fondness gave rise to no scandals, and Felice was not raised to any great dignity. Her father proposed to marry her to Roberto Sanseverino, a nephew of Guidubaldo of Urbino, Prince of Salerno, but dispossessed of his principality by the Spaniards. Felice, however, showed some spirit and refused to marry a husband without territory and without revenues; so another husband was provided, Giangiordano Orsini, whom she married in 1506; and the unrestrained display of affection made by the bridegroom at the wedding sorely shocked many of the bystanders. Thus Julius II showed no undue partiality for his own relatives, and so did much to abate one of the most grievous scandals of the Papacy. Moreover, the marriages with the Orsini were a surer way of turning the old Roman barons into nobles of the papal court than was the aggressive policy of Alexander VI.

The subject of the reformation of the Church was one to which every Pope felt bound to give a passing recognition. As Julius II, when Cardinal, had pressed for a Council, and had denounced the conduct of Alexander VI, it was natural that for the sake of consistency he should make a show of doing something. In November, 1504, he appointed a commission of six Cardinals to report; but commissions had so often been appointed that no one took the matter seriously, and we have no evidence that a report was ever presented. But Julius II felt that some step was necessary for a vindication of the papal dignity, and though he was not prepared to reform the Church, he tried to abate the scandals attaching to papal elections. He issued a protest—for it could be nothing more than a protest—against the simony which he had witnessed and even practised. A constitution published on January 19, 1505, declared that any gift, or promise, of money or benefices invalidated the election of him who had made it: even enthronization could not do away with the defect of title; all Cardinals, even those who had been guilty of receiving bribes, were bound to avoid the simoniacally elected Pope as a heathen and a heretic; it was their duty to depose him and call in the secular arm, if need were, to their aid. The publication of such a constitution was a bold measure, and showed a strong sense of the need of amendment. Perhaps Julius II was in some degree animated by a desire to separate himself from the misdoings of Alexander VI, to fasten upon him the obloquy of the past, and shake himself free from his own former self.

In several ways Julius II showed a desire for a better state of things in Rome, and endeavored to bring the Cardinals to a more decorous way of life. Thus on Whit Sunday, 1505, he sent Paris de Grassis, his Master of Ceremonies, with a message to the Cardinals forbidding them to be present at a comedy which was to be acted next day. “It was not fitting”, he said, “for Cardinals to be seen in public, looking at the amusements of boys”. Paris found some difficulty in delivering this unwonted message in an intelligible form.

The reform of the Curia was not, however, the object that was foremost in the thoughts of Julius II. He burned with desire to distinguish himself as a politician and to shed luster over the Church. He grieved over his enforced inaction, and prepared for the time when activity would be possible. He knew that pretensions were useless unless backed by force, and he knew that troops needed money; so he lived with careful frugality, and spent no more as Pope than he had done as Cardinal. He was even miserly, and tried to escape paying his debts. It is no wonder that the work of reform was not vigorously prosecuted; for reform meant the abandonment of the sale of ecclesiastical offices, and however much Julius II, might condemn simony from which the Papacy obtained no advantage, he regarded it in another light when it supplied the means of carrying on a spirited policy in behalf of the Church. But though the desire for money checked any attempts at reform, it did not lead the Pope into any acts of violence or extortion. Men said that at least the Pope did not seek money to enrich his family.

It was not, however, solely for warlike purposes that Julius II hoarded his money, nor was it only by the sword that he wished to increase the dignity of the Church. He inherited the traditions of Sixtus IV, and carried them out with greater nobility of aim. Sixtus IV had done much for the architectural restoration of Rome; Julius II was resolved to do still more. Even Alexander VI had felt the artistic impulse which swept over Italy, though he confined his work chiefly to the neighborhood of the Vatican. He summoned Antonio di Sangallo to superintend the restoration of the Castle of S. Angelo, in which he fitted up rooms for his own use, and employed Pinturicchio to paint them. In the Vatican he built the rooms which he delighted to inhabit, and which still bear his name. The Torre di Borgia, or Appartimenti Borgia, form part of the present library, and were built along the court of the Belvedere which Innocent VIII had laid out. Nowhere is the beauty of Pinturicchio’s decorative work more delicately displayed than in the allegorical figures of the planets, the intellectual virtues, the saints, and sacred histories with which he has adorned the lunettes and wall spaces of these rooms. The story ran that Giulia Farnese served as model for the Madonna in a fresco over one of the doors, and that Alexander VI had his own portrait painted in an attitude of devout adoration of her beauty. This story is characteristic of the way in which the legends that grew round Alexander VI were repeated without verification even of the most obvious details. Giulia Farnese may, or may not, have been the model for Pinturicchio's Madonna; but the Madonna in his picture is adored only by cherubim, and the portrait of Alexander VI is in another room, as one of the shepherds who kneel before the infant Christ.

Perhaps the story may have owed its birth to the refusal of Julius II to inhabit the rooms occupied by the man whom he so profoundly hated. In 1507 he removed to another part of the Vatican, saying that he could not endure to look at the portrait of his enemy, whom he called a Jew, an apostate, and a circumcised wretch. When his attendants laughed at this last epithet, Julius II reduced them to silence by a scowl. When Paris de Grassis suggested that the walls might be cleared of the obnoxious pictures, the Pope answered, “That would not be decorous; moreover, I will not live in rooms that recall memories of crime”. In estimating the character of Alexander VI it should be remembered that no Pope had a successor who was so outspoken in his hostility.

Alexander VI was too much engaged in politics to be a great patron of art. It was in his early days as Cardinal that he left a more important memorial than any of his works as Pope, by building one of the most renowned palaces in Italy. It is now known as the Palazzo Sforza- Cesarini, and has undergone many alterations which have destroyed its former character, save in the inner court. This palace of Cardinal Borgia marked a new epoch in the architectural history of Rome, in which church building was laid aside, and Cardinals vied with one another in the splendor of their houses. The only ecclesiastical buildings during Alexander VI's pontificate were due to the liberality of foreigners. Charles VIII left a memorial of his abode in Rome in the Church of S. Trinità dei Monti, which was built at the cost of the Cardinal of S. Malo; and the Germans in 1500 began the Church of S. Maria dell' Anima in connection with their national hospital.

Still in the days of Alexander VI a new era in the architectural history of Rome was opened by the coming in Rome, of Bramante. Born in Urbino, he had worked in various places till he settled in Milan, where he left many traces of his industry. On the fall of Ludovico Sforza in 1499 he went to Rome, where his first work was the emblazonment of the Borgia arms over the Porta Santa at the Lateran, in honour of the Jubilee. The sight of the ancient monuments of Rome filled him with enthusiasm; he rambled as far as Naples in quest of Roman remains, and Hadrian's Villa at Tivoli especially attracted his careful study. Cardinal Caraffa was the first to see his merits, and for him Bramante planned the cloisters attached to the Church of S. Maria della Pace; but two mighty palaces, which he designed for two Cardinals, first revealed his genius.

There are still no buildings of the Renaissance time in Rome which can compare in beauty with the palaces which Bramante built for the Cardinals Raffaelle Riario and Hadrian of Corneto. Cardinal Riario wished to have his palace attached, as was the custom, to the Church of S. Lorenzo in Damaso. Bramante altered the old basilica and connected it with the palace already in course of erection, for which he designed the noble façade and the arcades of the courtyard, which are the finest examples of the graceful and refined simplicity of his style. It is sad to say, that the granite pillars which support the arcade were taken from the basilica of S. Lorenzo; but the builder of the church, had in his day carried them off from the portico of the neighboring theatre of Pompeius. In every age architects have borrowed and destroyed, while they praised and studied, the work of those who went before.

More massive and severe in style was the palace which Bramante built for Cardinal Hadrian of Corneto in the Borgo Nuovo, which Alexander VI had laid out. Cardinal Hadrian stood high in the Pope’s favor, and wished to please him by decorating his new street. It was in Hadrian's garden that Alexander VI supped in the evening before his fatal illness. He had gone perhaps to see the progress of Bramante's work, which was there uninfluenced by any need of adaptation, and consequently conceived a simple but stately dwelling for a great noble. A plain basement of rustica work with square windows was surmounted by a floor more richly decorated for the habitation of the master. Round-headed windows are set within massive square cornices, and the wall space between them is adorned by two graceful pilasters. The upper story, designed for the use of dependents, has the same decoration of pilasters with smaller and simpler windows.

In the days of Alexander VI Cardinal Rovere had not seen much of Rome. He needed architects for practical purposes, and summoned from Florence Giuliano di San Gallo to fortify his castle at Ostia. He afterwards employed Giuliano to build a palace at his native place, Savona, and when he felt it wise to withdraw to France, Giuliano went with him. There Giuliano made a model of a palace which was presented to Charles VIII at Lyons, and was the astonishment and delight of the King and his Court. On the election of his patron to the Papacy, Giuliano di San Gallo hastened to Rome; but Julius II knew enough of architecture to discover the superiority of Bramante and he was determined that whatever he did should be done by the foremost men of his day. His views were magnificent, and were prompted not so much by a love for art as by a desire to perpetuate his own fame. He had none of that delight in beauty which led him to surround himself with lovely things. He was not a patron of jewelers or workers in embroidery—indeed he was the first man who drew a clear line of distinction between the lesser and the greater arts. He saw the permanent value of architecture, painting, and sculpture, and treated with respect the great men who pursued them. In this deliberate determination to patronize only what was great and lasting, Julius II has been amply justified by the result. He may be forgotten as a warrior or as a statesman, but he will live as the patron of Bramante, Raffael, and Michel Angelo.

Giuliano di San Gallo was disappointed to find that Julius II had made Bramante his architect in chief, and employed him busily at the Vatican. The Pope devised a great plan of connecting with the Vatican palace, by means of covered porticoes, the garden house of the Belvedere which Antonio Pollaiuolo had designed for Innocent VIII. The distance was about four hundred yards, but the inequality of the ground caused exceptional difficulties. A little valley lay between the two buildings, and the first floor of the Vatican was on a level with the ground floor of the Belvedere. Bramante designed a double loggia with a flight of steps leading from the lower ground. The lower loggia was adapted from the Doric pillars of the Theatre of Marcellus; over it was a gallery adorned with Ionic pillars, but enclosed and furnished with windows. The upper part of the space contained within this courtyard was to be a terraced garden: the lower part, nearest the Vatican, an open-air theatre for games and tournaments, while the spectators could sit in the loggia, which commanded a view of Rome on the one side and of the wooded hills of the other. The Pope was delighted with this magnificent plan, and ordered Bramante to push on the work with feverish haste. The earth dug out during the day was carried away by night, so that there should be no hindrance to the progress of the work. Julius II wished his walls to grow rather than be built and the result of this over haste was that the foundations in aftertimes gave way, and the portico has needed continual repairs. Still, with all the haste that Bramante made, his work was not finished. At the death of Julius II the greater part of the corridor on the side towards Rome had been built, but on the opposite side only the foundations were laid. Nor did posterity respect Bramante's magnificent design. It is true that Pius IV carried on the corridor; but Sixtus V made impossible the execution of the original plan by building his library across the court. He walled up Bramante’s arcades, and severed what might have been the most stately court in the world into two disconnected portions. The building of the Braccio Nuovo in 1817 still further filled up the space. There are now two courts and a garden on the ground where Bramante strove to present a striking picture of a mighty palace with all its dependencies for comfort and amusement blended into harmony by his architectural skill. Had his plan been carried out, Julius II would have left his successors a palace unrivalled for beauty and convenience.

If we are to believe Vasari, care for his future fame was amongst the first thoughts that occupied Julius II when he ascended the Papal throne. The design for his own tomb after death was a strange object of solicitude for one who was only at the beginning of his career; but the passionate desire for posthumous glory was a leading motive with the men of the Renaissance who were drunk with a new sense of power over their own lives and over the world around them. The assertion of their individuality was their chief delight; the sense of common life and common interests was weak. Society was necessary as the sphere of the individual’s activity; but society had no rights against him. He strove to act so that his actions should stand out clearly and decidedly his own, distinct from those of his fellow-men. He wished his name to be frequent in the mouths of those who came after, and his memory to live associated with some great undertaking. Vanity suggested sepulchral monuments as a ready means of satisfying this desire for fame. Men vied with one another in elaborating great designs. Sculpture was encouraged in a way which at no other time has been possible, and the churches of Italy were filled with stately tombs which are still their chief ornaments.

In Rome this taste for monumental sculpture had grown strong. Perhaps the honor paid by Cosimo de' Medici to the deposed Baldassare Cossa, whose tomb adorns the Baptistery of Florence, awakened the emulation of the rightful Popes. At all events the tomb of Martin V in the Lateran Church is the first of a splendid series. It was the work of Antonio Filarete and was simple in its design; before the papal altar lies the recumbent figure of Martin V in papal robes, wrought in bronze. The tomb of Eugenius IV in the Church of S. Salvatore in Lauro was more in accordance with the ordinary design; on a white marble sarcophagus, enclosed by an architrave supported by pillars, lies the figure of the Pope; in the space above the sarcophagus is carved in relief the Madonna and an adoring angel. The tombs of Nicolas V, Calixtus III, and Paul II were destroyed by the work of Julius II in S. Peter's, and only portions of the delicate figures which Mino da Fiesole made for Paul II now remain. Pius II was more fortunate; his monument was removed to the Church of S. Andrea della Valle, where it still remains, a vast architectural erection in four divisions, overladen with pillars, cornices, and reliefs. Happier were Sixtus IV and Innocent VIII, whose tombs by Antonio Pollaiuolo still adorn S. Peter's. On the bronze lid of a sarcophagus Sixtus IV is represented as reposing with folded hands; the face is strong and vigorous even in the quietness of death. The figure of the Pope is surrounded by an ornamental border in which are allegorical figures of Virtues in relief, while the beveled edge of the lid is adorned with figures representing the various branches of intellectual study. It is noticeable as a sign of the times that the figure of Theology has been studied from Diana; over her shoulders she carries a quiver and in her hand a bow; an angel holds an open book before the reclining figure, but her face is turned away as though she were on the watch for some more practical object of pursuit. Sixtus IV fared better at the hands of Pollaiuolo than did Innocent VIII, whose tomb is more pretentious, but fails in energy and in architectural arrangement. The Pope lies on a bronze sarcophagus, and above is again represented as in life; one hand is raised in benediction, the other holds the point of the Holy Lance which the Sultan Bajazet had sent as a precious relic. Over Alexander VI no tomb was erected. Julius II caused the coffin of his enemy to be taken from S. Peter's to the Church of S. Giacomo degli Spagnuoli, whence it was again transferred to the Spanish Church of S. Maria di Monferrato. No man ventured to raise a memorial to one whose name was hateful to his successor and whose pontificate every one wished to forget.

Nor was it only the Popes whose fame was thus perpetuated. All the chief churches of Rome are full of tombs of the Cardinals of this time. It would almost seem that the great ones among them were content to let their deeds speak for them, while the more obscure sought the assistance of the artist to perpetuate their name.

No great monuments remain of Torquemada, Bessarion, Carvajal, Ammannati, or Prospero Colonna; but the Church of S. Maria del Popolo abounds in tombs of the Rovere and other relatives of Sixtus IV, and there are others in the Church of SS. Apostoli. Everywhere throughout Rome are traces of the chisel of Mino da Fiesole, Paolo Romano, Andrea Sansovino, and other sculptors whose names have perished.

Julius II. was a complete representative of the Italian temper of his time, and resolved to be commemorated by a tomb which should tower above all others in its grandeur and magnificence. He was fortunate in his opportunity. As a new epoch in architecture had been opened by the genius of Bramante, so Julius II witnessed the beginning of a new epoch in sculpture. A young Florentine, Michel Angelo Buonarotti, came to Rome in 1496 in the service of Cardinal Raffaelle Riario. The study of the ancient sculptures in Rome rapidly developed his conceptions of the possibilities of his art, and the Pietà which he executed for the French Cardinal la Grolaye was at once recognized as a masterpiece. The mighty Mother bends her head in agony over the body of the Son, which lies in death upon her lap, as peaceful as when He slumbered as a babe. When some critics remarked that the Virgin was represented as too young, Michel Angelo answered that purity enjoyed eternal youth. We cannot fail to read on this statue the profound impression produced in his mind by the world around him. He expressed the helpless agony of the strong upright nature which had to endure in patience the outrages of those who were powerful only for evil; he portrayed the despair of hopeless disappointment, not the patience of resignation. But whether or no his contemporaries caught the grandeur of his conception, they admired his technical skill and truth in modeling; and his fame, which this work raised high, was still further enhanced by the statue of David which he made on his return to Florence. When Julius II bethought him of his tomb, he had no doubt about entrusting the work to Michel Angelo as the foremost sculptor in Italy.

The plan which Michel Angelo submitted was sufficiently magnificent to satisfy even the aspirations of Julius II. Over the spot where the Pope lay buried was to rise a mighty sculptured chapel. Its pillars were to be supported by figures in bonds, representing the arts and sciences, which were so closely connected with the Pope that at his death they also died. The pillars were so massive that each had two niches holding statues of Victories with the cities and provinces captured by the Pope chained to their feet. This huge pedestal was to contain altogether forty statues. At the four corners of the cornice were to be placed figures of Moses and S. Paul representing the religious life, and Rachel and Leah, whom Dante had taught men to regard as allegories of the contemplative and the practical life. Above them were to tower two colossal figures supporting the bier on which lay the sarcophagus of the Pope. One of these figures was Heaven rejoicing to receive the soul of Julius II, the other was Earth bewailing her irreparable loss.

Julius II was anxious to have this design carried out at once, and Michel Angelo set to work with characteristic ardor. He superintended the quarrying of the marble, and brought it to Rome by sea, till half the Piazza of S. Peter's was filled with unhewn blocks. So eager was the Pope to see the progress of the work, that he had a drawbridge made by which he might pass, when he would, to Michel Angelo’s studio from the corridor which ran between the Vatican and the Castle of S. Angelo. At first all went well; but misunderstandings soon arose between the Pope and the sculptor.

Michel Angelo thought only of his art; Julius II thought only of himself; both were impetuous and exacting. As Julius II became more deeply involved in politics he cared less about his tomb, and Michel Angelo could not get money to pay for his marble. His fruitless visits to the Vatican galled his independent spirit, and he grew unduly sensitive. One day, when he was waiting while the Pope at table was turning over the wares of a jeweler, he heard Julius II say, “I will not spend another farthing on stones, either small or great”. He looked on the remark as significant of a change of purpose; and when an official told him, in answer to his application for money, that he need not come again for some time, he left Rome in indignant despair at the end of 1505, after writing a letter to the Pope: “I was this morning driven from the palace by order of your Holiness; if you require me further you must seek me elsewhere than in Rome”.

The tomb of Julius II was unlucky from the first; its work was often suspended, its design altered, its fragments scattered; and Michel Angelo’s design fared worse than did Bramante’s at the Vatican.

Julius II’s plans tripped up one another by their rapid succession. If we are to trust Vasari, the discussion about the place where Michel Angelo’s monument was to stand led to the rebuilding of S. Peter's. The vast structure which Michel Angelo had designed required an open space around it that it might be seen to advantage. While considering this point the Pope went back to the scheme of Nicolas V for rebuilding the old basilica; but the conservative restoration which Nicolas V had begun in the tribune made way for a more splendid plan of Bramante. The old basilica was to be swept away, and a building in the new classic style was to take its place. Bramante's design was a building in the form of a Greek cross, with spacious tribunes at the ends of the three arms. The middle was to be surmounted by a mighty dome, on either side of which rose a bell tower; the façade was adorned by a spacious vestibule supported by six pillars.

In vain the Cardinals murmured and remonstrated at this destruction. The Pope’s purpose was fixed. Even an age greedy of novelty and full of confidence in itself was startled at the demolition of the most venerable church in Christendom to make way for something new. The basilica of S. Peter's had been for ages the object of pilgrimages from every land. Outside, it gleamed with mosaics, of which the ship of Giotto is now the only survival; inside, its pavement was a marvel of mosaic art; its pillars dated from the days of Constantine; its monuments told the history of the Roman Church for centuries. Men may praise at the present day the magnificence of S. Peter's; they forget what was destroyed to make room for it. No more wanton or barbarous act of destruction was ever deliberately committed; no bishop was ever so untrue as was Julius II to his duty as keeper of the fabric of his church. His boundless vanity and self-assertion was accompanied by insolence to the past; a new era was to date from himself, and all that had gone before might be forgotten. Half of the old basilica was pulled down with ruthless haste. Mosaics were taken up; monuments were torn down; pillars, which might have been used elsewhere, were shattered. Michel Angelo's wrath was stirred by the ruthless havoc which Bramante wrought, and he indignantly but vainly pleaded for more respect to the precious relics of the past. A few fragments only were preserved and placed in the Grotte Vaticane, where they still keep some memory of what was lost. The tombs and inscriptions there remaining range from the sarcophagus which tells that Junius Bassus, Prefect of Rome, went to God in A.D. 359 to the remnants of the lovely tomb which Mino da Fiesole carved for Paul II, The tombs of other Popes were removed by their relations to smaller churches; Julius II himself had no care for the memory of any save his uncle Sixtus IV.

The Grotte Vaticane, as they are called, are the row of chapels which had been erected under the old basilica, where many burials had taken place. Julius II was driven to respect the bones of the dead, and gave orders that the burying-place should be as little as possible disturbed, and that the foundations of the pillars which were to bear the roof of the new church should be laid below the old chapels. On April 18, 1506, the ceremony of laying the foundation stone was performed by the Pope. It was the pillar against which is now erected the altar of S. Veronica. Here a deep pit had been excavated, and the bottom was full of water, which was being bailed out as fast as possible by workmen. The Pope courageously descended the ladder, accompanied by two Cardinals; but he was fearful lest the crowd above should cause the earth to slip, and shouted to them to stand further back. His courage in running the risk of an attack of giddiness was regarded as a sign of his trust in God and his boundless reverence for S. Peter.

On the same day Julius II wrote with pride to Henry VII of England to announce the fact; “in sure hope”, he says, “that our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, by whose monition we have undertaken to renew the old basilica, which is perishing through age, will, through the prayers of the Apostle, give us strength—so that what was begun with so much zeal may be finished to the praise and glory of God”. The hope of Julius II was not to be fulfilled, for when he died only a small part of his design had been executed. The building of S. Peter’s went through many changes, and was not finished for 150 years. Julius II demanded that Christendom should join in his pride at the greatness of his undertaking; but Christendom was ceasing to feel that the centre of its interests lay in the city of Rome, or that its affairs were directed by the Pope. The contributions levied for the building of S. Peter's did much to make men feel the weight of the papal yoke and to criticize the grounds on which they were taxed by a foreign priest. The church which Julius II strove so diligently to raise never met with the reverence which had been paid to the venerable building which he overthrew; it was never to be the great central church of the Germanic peoples.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE LEAGUE OF CAMBRAI

1506-1510.

The care of architecture and sculpture did not divert the attention of Julius II from politics. His scheme against Venice had failed for the present. The league of Blois came formally to an end in October, 1505, when Louis XII entered into an alliance with Ferdinand of Spain; and the struggle between Ferdinand and his son-in-law Philip was the point of interest in the politics of Europe. Italy was at peace save for the war which still dragged on between Florence and Pisa. It needed little to break this peace, and Julius II determined to be the first to do so. He made preparations, but kept their object secret. He allowed the Venetian envoy to think that he intended an expedition against Naples, for which he refused to accept the homage of Spain. At last it became known that the Pope intended to reduce Perugia and Bologna under the obedience of the Roman See. It was an undertaking which Alexander VI had found too large to be contemplated; but Julius II calculated on the neutrality of all and the help of many. Venice remained still; Louis XII of France reluctantly promised help; Florence was ready to do anything which would annoy Venice; the Dukes of Mantua, Ferrara, and Urbino promised troops.

Gianpaolo Baglione of Perugia and Giovanni Bentivoglio of Bologna were, in name, papal vicars of their states: in reality they ruled as independent lords. The rule of the Baglioni had been tyrannical, and the city suffered from bloody feuds; so that Julius II was in some measure justified in declaring that he went to free Perugia from a tyrant. But he had on his accession confirmed the privileges of Bologna; and Giovanni Bentivoglio was an ally of Louis XII and was under French protection. A more cautious man might have doubted of the success of his enterprise against such foes; but Julius II trusted to his audacity. Machiavelli instances his success as a proof of the advantage of promptitude. Julius II, he says, ordered the Venetians to remain neutral, and ordered the French king to help him; had he given them time to deliberate they probably would not have obeyed him; but he took the field at once, and they saw nothing else to do but fall in with his wishes.

Julius II left Rome before sunrise on August 26, having committed the care of the city to Cardinal Cibò. He was mounted on horseback, and wore a rochet; before him was carried a cross, and a bishop bore the Host. But as the bishop's horse had to be led by an attendant on foot, the Pope on the second day sent him along the road, while he himself chose to ride through the woods; he seems to have wished to lay aside his ecclesiastical character as much as possible and adopt the manners of the camp. He set out with twenty-four Cardinals, but only with a force of 500 men. He advanced by way of Nepi and Viterbo to Orvieto, where he was joined by the Duke of Urbino, whose martial ardor was checked by an attack of the gout, and who was on that account better fitted for the office of mediator. Gianpaolo Baglione saw no one to help him and was afraid of the Pope's threat that he would expel him from Perugia. He thought it better to come to terms, and offered to put in the hands of the Pope all the castles in the territory of Perugia, and the gates oi the city itself, and also to aid him with his forces in the expedition against Bologna. As Bologna was the chief object of Julius II he did not wish to waste time over Perugia; on September 8, Gianpaolo Baglione came to Orvieto and made submission to the Pope, who, with the Cardinals, the Duke of Urbino, and Gianpaolo Baglione, entered Perugia in state on September 13. His troops had not yet taken possession of the city, and he was attended only by a small guard.

Machiavelli, who was in his train, wondered at the Pope’s rashness. “The Pope and the Cardinals”, he wrote comments the Same day to Florence, “are at the discretion of Gianpaolo, not he at theirs. If he does no mischief to the man who has come to upset his power it will be owing to his good nature and humanity”. He repeated the same remark after mature reflection. “Prudent men who were there noted the rashness of the Pope and the cowardice of Gianpaolo; they could not understand how it was that he did not, to his lasting fame, rid himself at one blow of his enemy and enrich himself with booty, as he had in his power the Pope and Cardinals with all their luxuries. It was not goodness nor conscience that restrained him, for he was incestuous and a parricide; but he did not dare to do a deed which would have left an eternal memory. He might have been the first to show priests how little a man is esteemed who lives and rules as they do. He would have done a deed whose greatness would have outweighed all its infamy and all the danger which might have followed”.

The passage is remarkable as showing the hatred against priests which the secular career of the Papacy had necessarily produced. The condition of Italian politics emboldened the Popes to pursue their own advantage as temporal princes, and by so doing they ran the risk of being treated as on the same footing as other Italian rulers. But Machiavelli's judgment also shows the confusion which lay beneath his political subtlety. He thought it possible that selfish villains should pursue some ideal end, and did not see that in a crisis all great conceptions necessarily vanished from their minds and self-interested motives alone remained. Why should Gianpaolo, being what he was, care to bring upon himself the retribution which would surely follow any violence offered to the Pope? He could not even have been sure of Perugia, had he done so, and he had no allies to support him. As it was, he had made good terms for himself owing to his insignificance; Bologna was the Pope's object, and he himself was honorably saved. It is the weakness of Machiavelli’s political method that, while professing to deal with politics in a practical spirit, he is not practical enough.

Julius II was received in Perugia with due respect, and ordered mass to be celebrated in the Church of S. Francesco, where he had been ordained when a simple scholar. He restored the Perugian exiles and labored to promote peace within the city. The Marquis of Mantua joined him with forces, and on September 21 he set out for Bologna by way of Gubbio and Urbino; thence, to avoid the Venetian territory of Rimini, he traversed the rugged road over the Apennines by San Marino to Cesena. There he received a definite promise of the aid of France, for the powerful adviser of Louis XII, the Cardinal of Rouen, had been won over to the Pope’s side by the promise of the Cardinalate to three of his nephews. His influence prevailed with the king, and the French troops, which had marched out of Milan to aid Bologna, received orders to join the Pope. Julius II was triumphant, and on October 7 issued a bull of excommunication against Giovanni Bentivoglio and his adherents as rebels against the Church; their goods were given as prey to anyone who seized them, and plenary indulgence was offered to those who slew them. The Pope with pride enumerated his forces to Machiavelli, and said, “I have published a crusade against Messer Giovanni, that every one may understand that I will make no terms with him”. It was part of his policy to give others no chance of drawing back.

Giovanni Bentivoglio would not have feared either the Pope’s forces or the Pope’s ban; but the advance of 8000 French troops under Charles d'Amboise, the Marshal of Chaumont, filled the people of Bologna with dread of pillage. Giovanni wavered for a time, and then threw himself on the protection of France, which had already betrayed him; on November 2 he left Bologna and retired to Chaumont's camp. The Bolognese sent envoys making submission to the Pope. It was time that they did so : for the French troops were longing for the pillage of Bologna, and Julius II had to pacify Chaumont by giving him large sums of money. The Bolognese only kept the French army at a distance by opening the sluices of their canal and so flooding the neighborhood of the French camp.

Julius II hastened to take possession of Bologna. The astrologers tried to dissuade him from entering at once on his arrival, saying that the stars were enters unpropitious. But Julius II now cared not for astrologers, and answered, “Let us go on and enter in the name of the Lord”. The splendor of the Pope’s entrance might recompense the weary Cardinals for the hardships of their journey. The populous city, with 70,000 inhabitants, welcomed the Pope as the liberator of Italy, the expeller of tyrants. Julius II, borne in his litter upon men's shoulders, was hailed as a second Julius Caesar. The weather was exceptionally warm, and the roses, which blossomed in abundance, were strewn in his path; men said that he was lord even of the planets and the skies.

Julius II was master of Bologna, but he had exhausted the papal treasury to gain his object, and had bound himself by many engagements. Bologna was hard to regulate, and Julius II was obliged to guarantee the old privileges of the city and leave its government in the hands of a council of forty, over whom was set a papal legate. The Bentivogli had taken refuge with the French king, who refused to surrender them to the Pope. Julius II could not be secure against attempts at revolt, and he made a bad choice of his first legate, Cardinal Ferrari. Ferrari's extortion was so notorious that he was recalled in a few months and was imprisoned in S. Angelo. His successor, Cardinal Alidosi, was still more oppressive to the Bolognese, and Julius II soon felt that it was easier to conquer than to govern. It was an ominous sign that his first act was to lay the foundations of a fortress by the Porta Galera, a strange measure for the liberator of the land and the expeller of tyrants.

Julius II was resolved to perpetuate in Bologna the memory of his triumph. He had been vexed at the hasty departure of Michel Angelo from Rome, and wrote peremptory letters to Florence ordering his return. In vain Michel Angelo asked permission to execute his work at Florence and send it, as it was finished, to the Pope; the haughty artist was at last ordered by the Gonfaloniere Soderini to go to Bologna and make his peace. Julius II looked at him angrily. “It seems”, he said, “that you have waited for us to come to you, instead of coming to us”. Michel Angelo knelt and asked pardon; he had acted in anger, but he could not endure the treatment which he had met with in Rome. A bishop, who was a friend of Soderini’s, tried to calm the rising indignation of the Pope. Artists, he said, were men of no education; they only knew their art and did not know how they ought to behave. In a moment the Pope’s wrath found a new object. “How do you dare”, he exclaimed, “to say what I would not have said? It is you who are ignorant, not he. Out of my sight with your impertinence”. The astonished bishop was hustled out of the room by the attendants. Then Julius II looked with an amused look at Michel Angelo, gave him pardon and bade him not leave Bologna. Soon afterwards Michel Angelo was ordered to execute a bronze statue of the Pope to adorn his new possession. When he said that he could not be sure of the success of his first casting, the Pope answered, “You must cast till you succeed, and you shall have as much money as you need”. Michel Angelo modeled a seated statue, three times the size of life. The right hand was raised; the Pope was asked what should be done with the left. Michel Angelo suggested that it might hold a book. “Nay”, said the Pope, “give me a sword, for I am no scholar”. Then as he looked at the statue he caught the severe expression with which the sculptor had clothed his face. “What is my right hand doing?” he asked; “am I blessing or banning?”. “You are admonishing the Bolognese to be wise”, was Michel Angelo’s answer. The statue was placed over the portal of S. Petronio, and was unveiled in February, 1508. In its final form the Pope held neither book nor sword in his left hand, but the keys of S. Peter.

When Julius II had gained Bologna he felt that he had taken the first step towards the reduction of Venice and the conquest of the Romagna; his plan of a league against Venice revived and he was again hopeful. The death of the Archduke Philip at Burgos, in September, 1506, removed the great cause of European discord and left the French king more free to act. Julius II strove to reconcile Louis XII and Maximilian, and renew the undertaking which had been laid aside. In this he was doomed to disappointment, and events occurred which made him suspicious of France. The city of Genoa had long been under the suzerainty of France, as a free republic with a French governor. The party quarrels of the Genoese nobles favored the growth of a strong popular party, till, weary of the avarice of the French governor and the bloody deeds of the nobles, the Genoese rose in revolt. They expelled the nobles, besieged the French garrison, elected a dyer as their Doge, and abolished the suzerainty of France. Louis XII was indignant and vowed revenge; he entered Italy with a large army, and refused to hear the rebels, who could offer no resistance, punished them with great severity, imposed a heavy fine upon the city and abolished all its privileges.

Julius II vainly tried to interpose. As a native of the Genoese territory he loved his country; as a man sprung from the people he was inclined to the popular side; as an Italian he looked with alarm at the presence of a powerful army with no definite object in view; as Pope he feared the designs of the Cardinal of Amboise, who was known to hanker after the Papacy and was capable of devising a scheme for his deposition. His friendship with France gave place to alarm. He refused an interview with the French king, and quitted Bologna for the greater safety of Rome. There he arrived on March 27, and enjoyed a triumphal entry. On all sides was heard the clang of trumpets and the din of war as Julius, seated in his car, swept through the streets amidst the shouts of the people. It was Palm Sunday, and the Romans thought that they did honor to the day by welcoming Christ’s Vicar with the cry, “Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the Lord”. When the Pope reached S. Angelo he was met by a chariot containing a globe on which danced ten boys attired like angels. Suddenly the globe opened and another angel stepped forth and offered the Pope a palm, saying in neat Latin verses that the Pope had brought on Palm Sunday the palms of victory to Rome. No one thought it incongruous that this military parade should end with the Pope giving the benediction from S. Peter’s.

When Julius II looked around him he saw the political condition of Europe to be threatening on all sides. In Germany Maximilian was freer to work his will than he had been hitherto. Maximilian seemed a careless adventurer, but he had a fixed policy of opposition to France, and a desire to maintain the rights of the Empire and secure supremacy for his own house. The rivalry between France and the house of Austria had already begun and was the determining element in the politics of Europe. Maximilian found himself strong enough to take up a decided position of resistance to the French advance in Italy. In June, 1507, he summoned a diet at Constance, and laid before it his grievances. The French king, he said, was endeavoring to rob the German nation of the Empire; he had made his plans for securing the Papacy for France, and for this end was plotting against the Pope; to prevent this Maximilian asked the Diet to help with men and money, that he might make an expedition into Italy, receive the imperial crown, and assert the rights of the Empire in the Milanese. The Diet decreed that it would help the Emperor, and Maximilian won the Swiss confederates by promising them territory in the Trentino.

Meanwhile Ferdinand of Spain had been visiting his Neapolitan kingdom, where he wished to make sure of the fidelity of Gonsalvo de Cordova, who was loyal to his own cost. Even after the death of Philip had freed Ferdinand from any immediate dread, the suspicious king removed Gonsalvo from Naples, which was afterwards governed by a viceroy. The attitude of Maximilian drew Ferdinand and Louis XII more closely together, and Ferdinand sailed from Naples to have an interview with the French king at Savona. Julius II wished to see him on his way, and went to Ostia for that purpose; but Ferdinand was ill-disposed to the Pope, who refused to grant him the investiture of Naples. He sailed past Ostia, and at the end of June confirmed the Franco-Spanish alliance by a conference with Louis XII.

The politics of Europe had now definitely settled down into a struggle for ascendency between France, Spain, and the house of Hapsburg, and it was recognized that Italy was the battlefield of their arms and their diplomacy alike. The Papacy had elected to enter Italian politics as a secular power, and as a consequence of that decision must be prepared to defend its own interests. Julius II had refused to cast himself unreservedly on any side, and was known to have plans of his own about Italian affairs. The three great Powers had therefore a common interest in getting rid of him, and in dealing with the States of the Church according to the requirements of their own policy. If a common agreement had been possible, the Papal States would have been secularized, and the Papacy, as an institution, would have been completely changed; but, as usual, the strength of the Papacy lay in the want of statesmanlike capacity in its opponents. The desirability of dealing with the Papacy was frankly recognized on all sides. In Spain the zeal of the clergy was fervent, and the party in favor of reform was strong. Ferdinand discussed with Louis XII a plan for convoking a General Council, and this plan was warmly seconded by the Cardinal of Rouen, who hoped that Julius II might be deposed in favor of himself. On the other hand Maximilian’s adventurous mind had conceived a scheme of uniting the Papacy with the Empire. On June 10 he wrote a mysterious letter to the Bishop of Trent in which he said that the fox (Louis XII) would find the cock or the hen (the Pope and the Empire) flown from the tree. His own plan was to go to Rome and become Pope and Emperor in one.

This astounding scheme shows the power of the ideas of the Renaissance even in Germany. Anything was considered possible. The ideas of Charles the Great had made way for the ideas of Augustus; the titles of Caesar and Pontifex Maximus might be again combined in the same person as they were when Augustus began the restoration of order in the distracted world. But if the ideas of the Renaissance fostered visionary plans, the Church did nothing to dispel them. The Popes were surrounded by none of the awe inspired by the sight of the duties of the priest's office discharged in the spirit of a priest. It was long since holiness or a care for the well-being of the Church as a spiritual power had been the leading features of the Papacy. Maximilian might truly plead that he could carry on the work of Sixtus IV, Alexander VI, and Julius II with as pious a mind and as much priestly decorum as they themselves had shown. Moreover the reformers at Basel, by their choice of Amadeus of Savoy, had suggested the view that a reformation of the Church was only possible by a union of temporal and ecclesiastical power.

The plan of Maximilian was kept a profound secret amongst a few of his confidential advisers, to whom was added a discontented Cardinal, Hadrian of Castello. Cardinal Hadrian had been influential under Alexander VI, was a man of considerable experience in politics, and was a friend of Henry VII of England, by whose permission he held the bishopric of Bath and Wells. He bemoaned his exclusion from affairs under Julius II; even his verses about the Pope's expedition against Bologna had not advanced him in the papal favor. He seems to have striven to win the good graces of Henry VII of England by writing calumnious letters against the Pope, which Henry VII forwarded to Julius II. Fearing the Pope's wrath, Hadrian suddenly left Rome, to every one's astonishment. Then he wrote from Spoleto asking for pardon, and on September 10 returned to Rome. Those who wondered at his departure wondered still more at his inconstancy; and his conduct became still more inexplicable when, on October 6, he again fled in disguise from Rome. The Pope knew nothing of his reason, and could only suspect some conspiracy against himself. Hadrian made his way into the Tyrol, where he lived in obscurity, and nothing more was heard about him in Rome; but a letter of Maximilian's shows that Hadrian was his secret adviser in this scheme for securing the Papacy, and it was a plan which Maximilian never dismissed from his mind.

Julius II knew nothing of Maximilian's designs, but rumors were rife concerning those of Louis XII and Ferdinand. He was not, however, much disturbed about himself, but boldly entered into the game of diplomacy, in which he showed much dexterity. He was still bent on the overthrow of Venice, and for this purpose strove to reconcile France and the Emperor. When the dangers that might follow to Italy were pointed out to him he answered impatiently, “Let the world perish provided I obtain my wish”. He professed himself ready to ally with France and with the Emperor at the same time; he tried to reconcile the two foes, but he was trusted by neither

Meanwhile the Venetians had to decide which party they would choose. As France already had possessions in Italy, while Germany lay outside, they thought that it was best to oppose the new invader, and answered Maximilian's request for passage through their territory by saying that, if he came peacefully with a small escort, like his father, they would admit him, but not if he came accompanied by an army. Maximilian could not shake this determination, and advanced against Venice as a foe. Early in 1508 he assembled his troops and passed on to Trent, where on February he took a step of which contemporaries did not appreciate the importance. Preceded by the imperial heralds and the naked sword, Maximilian went in solemn procession to the Cathedral, where the Bishop of Gurk announced to the people Maximilian’s journey to Rome, and in so doing called him by the title of Emperor elect. No papal representative gave formality to this act, which was meant to be an assertion of the inherent authority of the Empire and its emancipation from the Church. It claimed that the German king became by his election Emperor, and needed no further confirmation. Heretofore the chosen of the electors had styled himself King of the Romans, and only took the title of Emperor after he had received his crown from the hands of the Pope in the imperial city of Rome. Maximilian swept away the claims of Rome to bestow the Empire when, without any direct authority from the Pope, he took the title of 'Emperor elect'. He asserted that the choice of Germany, not the choice of Rome, gave validity to the imperial dignity. In former days this assertion would have been stoutly withstood; as it was, it was either unobserved or misunderstood.

Maximilian wished, before starting on his Italian expedition, to secure some memorial of his attempt; Julius II did not wish to see him in Rome, and was glad to satisfy him so far as titles went. He had already offered to send a legate for his coronation in Germany; and though he was not consulted by Maximilian before his assumption of the title, he at once recognized it and addressed Maximilian by the name which he had chosen. Maximilian's assumption of the imperial title was more enduring than any other of his exploits. None of his successors went to Rome for coronation. Charles V was crowned at Bologna; but afterwards the title of 'Emperor elect' was taken after coronation at Aachen or Frankfurt, and the word 'elect' was soon dropped by courtesy except in formal documents. The imperial title was vindicated for Germany and for Germany alone by Maximilian, who with his romantic policy thought that he had taken a great step by this assertion of the rights of the German folk; really, he had but recognized the fact that Rome had become the city of the Pope. While maintaining the universal rights of the Empire, he had associated it with the German nation. To make the Empire more powerful he called in to his aid the principle of nationality whose growth proved the Empire to be a dream.

From Trent Maximilian pursued his way into the Venetian territory, where he threatened Vicenza, while his generals attacked Roveredo and Cadore. But his troops fell away, and the Swiss did not come to his help. He was beaten back on all sides by the Venetian troops, who won victory after victory.

At the end of May Venice had captured Trieste and passed on into Friuli; and on June 6 Maximilian made a truce for three years with Venice, allowing her to keep all her conquests.

This triumph of Venice seemed to overthrow all the plans of Julius II, as Venice, which he wished to isolate, was negotiating for an alliance with France and Spain. Louis XII had secretly given help to the Venetians, and Maximilian was enraged against him. The Pope himself had reasons to be suspicious of the French king. There had been a rebellion at Bologna, instigated by the dispossessed Giovanni Bentivoglio, who lived under French protection in Milan, and was ready to take advantage of any disturbance at Bologna. The rising was put down; and Louis XII reluctantly withdrew his protection from the Bentivogli, who fled to Venice, where they took sanctuary. Julius II demanded their surrender, and the Doge pleaded against him the rights of asylum. On this the Pope issued a brief, withdrawing the right of sanctuary from homicides, incendiaries, and rebels against the Church; he empowered the Doge to use his discretion in seizing any who at the time were guilty of these crimes. Nothing was done, and the Pope’s anger against Venice grew more fierce. Soon another cause of quarrel arose, as Venice refused to allow him to nominate to the bishopric of Vicenza and exercised its own right of election. This was only according to custom; but Julius II was indignant and said”, Even if it cost me my mitre I will be Pope and maintain the jurisdiction of the Papacy”.

Julius II did not speak without some grounds of assurance. Already the scheme was drawn up which afterwards resulted in the formation of the League of Cambrai. The papal legate, Cardinal Carvajal, together with the Spanish envoy, the French Governor of Lombardy, Marshal Chaumont, some representative of the Emperor, and the Marquis of Mantua, had drafted proposals for the settlement of disputes in Italy. They set forward a league between Maximilian and Louis XII, by which all their differences were to be arranged. A common expedition was to be undertaken against Venice, that Maximilian might recover all that Venice had usurped from the Empire and the house of Austria; while Louis XII was to recover all that Venice held to the detriment of his claims in the Milanese. The Pope and the Kings of Hungary and Aragon were to have the opportunity of entering the league also, to recover their rights from Venice.

If Maximilian had this plan seriously before him, it mattered little to him how the Venetian war was ended; indeed, it was all the better that Venice should gain important advantages, and thereby inspire greater animosity. Louis XII was offended by the haste with which Venice concluded its advantageous truce with Maximilian, without considering his interests or including in it the Duke of Gueldres, whom Louis XII, in the interest of Venice, had encouraged to attack Brabant. The triumph of Venice was on all sides regarded with sullen suspicion. Venice knew of the danger which threatened her, but took no steps to gain allies. Already the foreigner had set his foot in Italy, but this had not taught the Italian powers to draw more closely together. Separate interests were still as powerful as ever, and the growth of one Italian state was still regarded as a menace to the rest. They preferred the yoke of the stranger to the consolidation ot Italy under any state save their own. Individual Italians might sympathize with Venice; the Italian states hailed her approaching ruin with glee.

The league for the partition of the possessions of Venice on the mainland was signed at Cambrai on December 10, 1508, by Margaret of Austria, Regent of Netherlands, on behalf of her father, Maximilian, and by Cardinal Amboise as representative of the French king. It provided that Padua, Verona, Brescia, Friuli, Aquileia, and the other territories claimed by Maximilian should be restored to him; France was to have all that was wanting to the duchy of Milan; the lands belonging to the Church were to be restored to the Pope; the King of Aragon was to have the cities occupied by Venice on the Neapolitan coast; Hungary was to have Dalmatia; the Duke of Savoy the island of Cyprus; while the Duke of Ferrara and the Marquis of Mantua were to recover all their losses.

The League of Cambrai was a great political crime. In a time of peace, without any provocation, the powers of Europe deliberately determined to combine for the purpose of international robbery. Old claims were revived: an arbitrary principle of legitimacy was assumed. Venice was singled out as the aggressor who had defrauded others of their rights, and Europe nobly determined to redress the wrong; it was of no consequence to the allies that every one of them was liable to similar claims against themselves. Separate interests converged for the overthrow of Venice, and the partition of the Venetian territory was recognized as an undertaking of European importance. No feeling of honor stood in the way; no treaty was recognized as binding. Maximilian had made a three years’ truce with Venice at the time when he was meditating an alliance against her; Louis XII professed himself her friend; Julius II had pledged his word not to disturb her in her possessions. All this went for nothing. Self-seeking, without any other end alleged, was recognized as the principle by which the newly formed nations of Europe were to guide their course. The man who above all others devised this plan, and the man who urged it persistently upon the rest, was the nominal head of European Christianity, Pope Julius II.

It was not merely the possession of a couple of cities in the Romagna that impelled Julius II. He wished to see Venice thoroughly humbled, so that she could no longer be a hindrance in his path. He was clear-sighted enough to perceive that a strong power in Northern Italy was a hindrance to the growth of the States of the Church. With Spain in Naples, and France in Milan, it was possible for the Church to grow into a strong power in Central Italy. The Pope might hold the balance between two foreign powers jealous of one another; but a strong Italian power was an obstacle to his success in this design. Julius II wished to be rid forever of any such danger. His object was to reduce the threatening power of Venice into limits within which he was strong enough to cope with it. He had no love for France, for Germany, or for Spain; he was ready to attack them all, and to unite Italy under the Church, if that might be. His policy was intelligible, and in a measure it succeeded; Venice was reduced, and the States of the Church were created by Julius II. But this policy cannot claim to be regarded as patriotic. Julius II did his best to destroy the one state in Italy which might have made head against the foreigner; and he did so in the interest of the States of the Church. The Church as a temporal power was in consequence of his policy established in Central Italy; but this result was won by the sacrifice of any chance of Italian independence.

The subsequent action of Julius II led contemporaries to think that he sought only the restoration of the cities in the Romagna, and that the obstinacy of Venice turned him reluctantly against her. This opinion at once heightens and lowers our estimate of the Pope's policy. He pursued a plan which was more extensive than immediate gain; but the plan was more selfish, and was more disastrous to the interests of Italy as a whole. He did not at once give in his adhesion to the League of Cambrai, though it was the result of his own endeavor. He was not sure that it would succeed, or that the agreement made at Cambrai would lead to any better results than that previously made at Blois. He was not sure that the King of France was friendly to himself, and he would not commit himself till he saw that others were in earnest. In January, 1509, the Venetian envoy reported that the Pope was ill pleased with the league; in February he said that he wished to be neutral; in March, after France had proclaimed war against Venice, he said that he would not enter the league if it was directed specially against Venice. At last when he saw that France was in earnest, he entered the league on March 25, and agreed to furnish 500 men-at- arms, and 4000 infantry. When Venice wished to reduce the number of her foes, and offered on April 7 to restore Faenza and Rimini to the Pope, her offer was contemptuously refused, and the Pope said, “Do what you will with your lands”.

Moreover, the Pope was resolved to inflict on the Venetians all the harm that he could. Venice tried to engage the Orsini to fight on her side, and the Orsini received money from the Venetian envoys. Julius II forbade this engagement, and succeeded by threats and negotiations in prevailing on the Orsini to remain quiet. But he went further than this; he threatened to imprison the Venetian envoys, and he ordered the Orsini not to return the money which they had received. On April 27, when he saw that France had begun the war, he published a Bull of excommunication against Venice, couched in the strongest terms. He interpreted his Bull by telling the Orsini that he absolved them for keeping the money of Venice, because it was the money of excommunicated persons. “Holy Father”, said one of the Orsini, “we do not wish to blacken our good faith”. “Do not by any means restore the money”, was the Pope’s angry answer. It is some comfort to know that the Orsini had higher views of honor than the Pontiff and managed to give back 3000 ducats to the Venetian envoy.

When war was inevitable, Venice prepared to offer a firm resistance. The French army crossed her frontier, the papal troops under the Pope's nephew, Francesco della Rovere, now Duke of Urbino, attacked the Romagna. But Maximilian and Ferdinand of Aragon were both quiet, and waited on events; if Venice could prolong the war it was possible that the confederacy against her would quickly dissolve. The French advanced, capturing cities on their way, and the Venetian troops were ordered to defend the passage of the river Adda; but there were divided counsels in the Venetian camp, and a mistake in tactics enabled the French to bring on a battle. At Ghiara d' Adda or Vaila, the Venetians were defeated on May 14, and the mercenary troops fell into hopeless disorder. The loss inflicted in the battle was not considerable, and Venice had still 25,000 men in the field, but the mercenaries could not be reorganized; they fled to Mestre, and lost all discipline. Venice was rendered practically helpless by a slight reverse. Her haughty nobles fell into abject terror, and the subject cities on the mainland rejoiced that they had escaped from Egyptian bondage. The Venetian oligarchy had never trusted the people whom it governed, and had never taught them to defend themselves. The insignificant defeat at Valla upset all the statecraft of Venice, its government fell into unreasoning despondency. Machiavelli utters a severe, yet truthful judgment. "If the Government of Venice had possessed any heroism, it could easily have repaired its loss, and showed a new face to fortune. It might in time either have conquered, or lost more gloriously, or made more honorable terms. But the cowardice caused by the want of good organization for war made them lose at once their courage and their dominions".

Venice could devise no policy save submission. Louis XII was allowed to conquer all that he claimed as belonging to the Milanese, and then he retired. Verona, Vicenza, and Padua admitted the representatives of the Emperor, who did not find it necessary even to appear in arms. The towns on the Neapolitan coast were restored to Ferdinand. Rimini, Faenza, Cervia, and even Ravenna were surrendered to the Pope’s legate, Cardinal Alidosi, on May 28. The Venetians wished first of all to make their peace with the Pope, as a step towards breaking up the formidable league against them; it was hopeless to turn to Louis XII or Maximilian. But they found that the tender mercies of the Pope were indeed cruel. The Venetian officials in the surrendered towns were imprisoned, contrary to the terms of the agreement. They were not allowed to remove their artillery from Rimini, on the ground that it belonged to the city, not to the Venetians. On June 5 the Doge wrote to the Pope in terms of the most abject submission : “Your Holiness knows the state to which Venice has been reduced. Let the bowels of your compassion be moved; remember that you are the earthly representative of Him who was gentle, and who never casts away suppliants who flee to His mercy”.

Julius II, however, was implacable. In his ordinary talk he called the Venetians heretics and schismatics; he would send his Bull of excommunication throughout the world, and make it impossible for them to live. The Cardinals murmured at this extreme ferocity. “He has his lands”, they said; “why should he wish to consummate the ruin of Venice, which would be his own ruin also, and that of all Italy?”. So they thought, and with good reason. The overthrow of Venice had been accomplished too quickly and too entirely. The glory had all gone to Louis XII, and the French power seemed firmly established in Northern Italy. Maximilian had been reconciled to the French king, and had reaped the fruits of the French success. Julius II thought that the only policy for himself was to pursue his victory to the uttermost so as to secure firmly what he had won; meanwhile he could watch events and use them for his purposes.

Venice accordingly was allowed to negotiate with the Pope, but every hindrance was put in the way of an agreement. Julius II would not break up the League of Cambrai till he was sure that there was nothing more to be gained by it. Venice was led to think that the Pope was ready to remove the excommunication, and appointed six envoys extraordinary to arrange matters. When the envoys arrived at Rome, on July 2, they were chilled by their reception; as excommunicated persons they were not permitted to enter the city till night­fall, and the Cardinals were forbidden to meet them in the way in which envoys were customarily received. They were bidden to occupy the same house; they were not allowed to hear mass, nor to go out together on diplomatic business; only one of them might go at once. On July 8 the Pope sent for one of the envoys, whom he had known previously, Hieronimo Donado. He gave him absolution first, that he might be able to speak to him; then he broke into an angry speech. The provisions of the League of Cambrai must first be fully carried out, then the Venetians might come with a halter round their necks and ask for pardon. He would have nothing to say to the proposals which the envoys were empowered to lay before him, but demanded that Udine and Treviso should be given to the Emperor, that Venice should resign all its possessions on the mainland, should no longer claim the Adriatic Gulf as Venetian waters, should make a money payment to Louis XII and Maximilian, and give up to the Pope the nomination to benefices and the right to tax the clergy. He ended by giving Donado a paper containing the terms on which he was prepared to give Venice absolution, a paper which Donado calls devilish and shameful.

When this letter of Donado was read before the Pregadi, there was a general exclamation that the Pope sought their utter ruin and wished to root out Venice from the earth. Lorenzo Loredan, son of the Doge, said loudly: "We will send fifty envoys to the Turk before we do what the Pope asks". There was no possibility of negotiating on these terms, as Julius II, who only wished to temporize, was well aware. On July 26 Antonio Grimani came from Rome to Venice, and reported that the Pope had said that the French and Germans wished to destroy Venice, but he had prevented them. Grimani gave it as his opinion that the Pope would never absolve Venice so long as Louis XII was in Italy; he wished to maintain his own position, and to be on the strongest side; the more he was entreated, the worse would be his demands.

Grimani’s judgment was in a great measure true, as events had already proved. On July 17 Venice showed unexpected signs of vitality by recovering Padua from Maximilian’s captain, and at the same time news was brought to Rome that Cardinal Amboise had died at Milan. Donado said to the Pope, “The dragon is dead who wished to devour this seat”; and the Pope laughed a sardonic laugh. The news of the death of Amboise was, however, premature. It is true that he was seized with an illness which proved mortal next year, but the Pope soon discovered that he was not entirely freed from his foe. Julius II wore an appearance of firmness when he really was perplexed; and the Venetian Cardinals wrote at the end of July that “the Pope was in a maze”. He could not throw in his lot with France, for Louis XII was ill content with him; it was useless to hold by Maximilian, for Maximilian's constant demand was for money; he did not wish to join Venice, for he was afraid lest Venice might recover its strength, reconquer the Romagna, and even threaten Urbino. Hence he was greatly grieved at the recovery of Padua, which was soon followed by other conquests. Verona threatened to follow the example of Padua, and the Marquis of Mantua was marching to the aid of the imperial governor when he was made prisoner by the Venetian troops. Julius II was so wrathful when this news reached him, that he dashed his cap on the ground and blasphemed S. Peter. He was now driven to watch anxiously the result of Maximilian's attempt to recapture Padua, which would be a sign how things were likely to turn. To avoid the importunities of the Cardinals and ambassadors in Rome he wandered in the end of August to Ostia, Civita Castellana, and Viterbo. There he led an easy joyous life which gave rise to ill-natured sayings.

Maximilian's attempt against Padua failed. He wearied the Pope with requests for money and was angry because they were not granted. Early in October he departed ingloriously from Italy; and about the same time Julius II was involved in a quarrel with Louis XII. The Bishop of Avignon died at Rome; and Julius II, according to the custom in the case of vacancies occurring in the Curia, appointed his successor. Louis XII objected to this on the strength of an agreement which he had made in July with Cardinal Alidosi, an agreement that the Pope should give up to the king the nomination to bishoprics within his dominions, while the king undertook that he would not extend the protection of France over any vassal or subject of the Church. It would seem that Julius II did not consider this agreement to override the old customary rights of the Pope, while Louis XII applied it without exception. Each was obstinate, but Louis XII used a practical argument; he stopped the payment of ecclesiastical revenues in the Milanese to all those who were in Rome attending on the Pope. Julius II threatened to withhold admission to the cardinalate from the Frenchmen whom he had lately nominated; but reflection brought prudence, and Julius II reluctantly gave way. The Venetians rejoiced that he should learn what French influence in Italy brought upon the Holy See.

The Pope had expressed himself dissatisfied with the terms in which the submission of Venice to his censures had been couched, in the powers which had been given to the Venetian envoys; and this was the ostensible ground of his refusal to negotiate further. In September a fuller form of submission was sent from Venice and was laid by Dunado before the Pope, who still regarded it as insufficient; so that Dunado could report no advance towards a settlement. Still the Venetian Signory were encouraged by their success in defending Padua, and by the Pope's quarrel with the French king. They resolved to use their advantage, and on October 26 wrote to their envoys that it was long since they had received any communication from them; they saw no use in all staying at Rome; five might return and Dunado alone remain. On the same day that this letter was written, Julius II had taken a step towards Venice. He was alarmed by the news of an interview between Maximilian and Chaumont, the Grand Master of Milan, and feared the revival of some plan against himself. He accordingly sent for the Venetian Cardinal Grimani and told him the terms which he was ready to accept from Venice—a thing which he had hitherto refused to do; and the envoys were allowed to discuss these terms with Cardinals Caraffa and Raffaelle Riario. The Pope’s demands were severe, and aimed at the complete subjection of Venice to the authority of the Church; they covered all the points, temporal and spiritual alike, which had ever been subjects of dispute between Venice and the Holy See. Venice was to give up its claim to nominate to bishoprics and benefices, was to allow appeals in ecclesiastical cases to go direct to the Roman Rota, and was not to try the clergy in its courts or impose taxes on them without the Pope's consent. In like manner it was not to meddle with the subjects of the Church in any way, was to recompense the Pope for his expenses in recovering his possessions and restore the revenues which had been unjustly received, was to open the navigation of the Adriatic Gulf, withdraw its official Visdomino from Ferrara, and be ready to supply galleys to the Pope on his request.

Just as these negotiations had begun came the revocation of the five Venetian envoys. Julius II was too wary a diplomatist to pay any heed to the hint which this step was meant to convey. “Not only five shall go”, he exclaimed to Cardinal Grimani, “but all the six; I will have twelve before I remove the excommunication”. To this determination he remained firm; either all of them should go or none. He showed no signs of modifying his conditions; really he felt no desire that the matter should be ended. In the middle of November the Venetian envoys flattered themselves that they had gained a new friend. Christopher Bainbridge, who had been elected Archbishop of York, in 1508, came as English ambassador to Rome. The new King of England, Henry VIII, was already an object of curiosity. Henry VII had been content to hold aloof from the great questions of European diplomacy; Henry VIII was young and war­like, and had a well-filled coffer. Venice and Julius II alike hoped to make use of him as an enemy to France. Bainbridge assured the Venetians that his master was warmly on their side. Julius II gave him permission to sit with Cardinals Caraffa and Riario to hear the Venetian answer to his proposals. When Bainbridge expressed himself satisfied, Julius II said, “We will write to the King of England, and ask his opinion”. The Venetians thought that this consultation would make the decision a very protracted matter.

The Venetians, whose hopes had risen after their success at Padua, suffered a severe disaster at the end of the year. Their fleet, which blockaded the mouth of the Po to punish the Duke of Ferrara, was severely injured by an unexpected fire from batteries skillfully constructed on the land. Venice was again humbled; and on December 29 the Signory, not being able to do otherwise, agreed to the Pope's conditions. They proposed two modifications—that the Gulf of Venice should be open only to the subjects of the Church, and that they should be allowed to substitute a Consul for a Visdomino at Ferrara, who should protect their interests. As this agreement involved a cession of the laws and jurisdiction of Venice, a majority of three-fourths was needed in the Senate. On the first ballot this was not obtained; the question was again put to the vote, and was only carried by the bare majority required. The pride of Venice was tried to the uttermost; but it had to be tried still more severely before its business with the Pope was finished. Julius II paid no heed to the modifications which Venice proposed, but rather increased his demands. On January 9, 1510, he declared that the Gulf of Venice must be free to all, and added a requirement that in case of war against the Turks Venice should be obliged to furnish fifteen galleys. The abolition of all custom dues was a severe blow to Venetian finance; war with the Turks meant the suspension of Venetian commerce. At last the Pope consented to restrict his claim for free navigation of the Gulf of Venice to the subjects of the States of the Church; while Venice accepted the obligation of furnishing galleys for a crusade, stipulating only that it should not be expressly mentioned in the written conditions, lest their relations with the Turks should be needlessly embroiled.

At length, on February 4, Julius II laid the absolution of Venice before the Consistory of Cardinals. Fifteen gave their opinions in favor, eleven were against it. Only the French Cardinals were entirely opposed; the rest considered that it should be deferred for the present. Julius II had fortified himself by an opinion of the doctors of the University of Bologna to the effect that he could not with justice do otherwise than absolve Venice. Cardinal Carvajal thought that it would be well for the Pope to consult his allies. “What have we to do”, exclaimed the Pope, “with the opinions of others about the duties of our office?”. Before the Consistory separated all the Cardinals had, in some form or other, given way to the Pope's will. Still the Venetian envoys were beset with technical questions of procedure. Exception was taken to their powers as insufficient for the purpose of seeking absolution. Cardinal Caraffa was commissioned to draw up a proper document, in forma camerae, as it was put. The Venetians wondered what was meant; if this forma camerae were used by princes, it were well; if not, they were obliged to conclude, “we must do sometimes as we can, not as we would”. It was soon made clear to them that the form required was one which contained a confession of the justice of their excommunication. It was almost too much that they should be called upon to endorse the language of Julius II, language such as might be used of street robbers and assassins. The Venetian Senate tried to modify the wording of the document which was sent for their acceptance; but the Pope would have his way to the uttermost. The final mandate to the envoys empowered them to confess and allow that the papal monitory had come to their knowledge, and had been lawfully issued on true and lawful grounds; and further to beg his Holiness humbly and devoutly for pardon and absolution from the censures therein contained. The submission of Venice was made complete; all that the luckless envoys could do was to entreat the Pope to deal with them as gently as he could, and to have regard to their honor.

Julius II was too wise a statesman to wish to inflict any personal humiliation, and showed himself willing to make the ceremony of absolution as little burdensome as possible. Paris de Grassis, the Master of Ceremonies, had been diligently seeking precedents for months, and laid his report before the Pope. The customary form of absolution was to strike the penitent on the shoulder with a rod; and in some cases the shoulders were bared. Julius II omitted the use of the rod altogether, and only required that the ceremonial should be such as to set forth his own power and greatness. On February 24 the portico of S. Peter's was hung with tapestries and strewn with carpets; in the middle was erected a throne for the Pope, who was borne thither in his litter. The Cardinals stood round him, but they met with little respect from the crowd of other prelates who mingled with them. The five Venetian envoys, dressed in scarlet, advanced and kissed the Pope's foot; then they retired and knelt upon the steps. Dunado in a few words begged for absolution; he was asked for his mandate, and produced it. When it had been accepted as sufficient, a papal secretary read the agreement made with the Pope. He read it in so low a voice that no one but the Pope could hear its contents; but this tedious process lasted for an hour, and the envoys had great difficulty in maintaining their kneeling posture. When the reading was over, the envoys rose, and placing their hands on a missal held by some Cardinals, swore to observe the terms. Then the Pope chanted the Miserere, and after a few prayers gave them absolution, imposing on them, as a penance, a visit to the seven basilicas of Rome, where they were to pray and give alms. Then the doors of S. Peter's were opened, and the penitentiary led the Venetians into the Church from which they had been outcasts. Mass was said in the Chapel of Sixtus IV; but the Pope retired to the Vatican, for he never was present at long services. He ordered his household to escort the envoys home, and they returned from S. Peter's in state, each riding between two prelates. So far as concerned the mode in which absolution was given the Venetians were well satisfied.

In spite of the splendid example which Julius II had given of the power of the Papacy, he was not in heart very proud of his triumph. He could scarcely hide from himself that his action was scarcely defensible on ecclesiastical grounds; and his utterances to the Venetian envoys show that he was somewhat ill at ease. When he absolved them he said a few words. He had wished before excommunicating them that they had come into the right way; as they would not give up their occupation of the patrimony of S. Peter he had acted promptly so as to recover it; following the example of Christ he now accepted their repentance. When the envoys took leave of him on February 25, he said, “Do not think it strange that we have been so long in removing the interdict. The Signory was the cause; it ought to have satisfied our demands. We grieve over the censures we were driven to use. Be mindful to stand well with Popes; then it will be well with you, and you will not lack favors”. These were mere common­places, as everyone knew that the Pope had wrung all he could out of Venice, and was only anxious to prevent the gain of France and Germany from turning to his own loss. He absolved Venice as a step towards checking the progress of France : and he dared not absolve her till she had shown herself strong enough to beat back Maximilian from Padua. He had brought about the ruin of Venice to serve his own interests; he wished, in the defence of these interests, to prevent that ruin from being complete.

Julius II might indeed flatter himself that his policy was successful. He had set up the States of the Church in Central Italy; he had reduced the haughty power which seemed supreme in North Italy to a condition of vassalage to the Church. Venice had been forced to surrender her privileges, had been rendered harmless for the present, and was bound in the immediate future to look to the Papacy as her sole protection. But Venice had not given way so thoroughly as the Pope supposed; she bowed before the storm, but she did not mean to surrender any of her rights. The Council of Ten resolved to leave a record of their opinions to those who came after. They gave way before the necessity of an overwhelming crisis, but they did not consider that it was in their power to alienate to the Pope the rights of their civil government. On the same day that they sent the final powers to their envoys at Rome, they executed a legal protest against the validity of their deed. Their protest set forth that they had, contrary to justice, suffered intolerable wrongs; that the Pope, ill informed, refused them absolution save on unjust conditions and the renunciation of their rights. On these grounds the Doge protested that he acted, not voluntarily but through violence and fear; that his acts were null; that he reserved the right of revoking them, and presenting his rights before a better informed Pope. It was a clumsy way of asserting that self-preservation is the first law of states; that treaties are the recognition of existing necessity; that no generation of statesmen can alienate for ever the fundamental rights of a community.

Such a protest may be regarded as a mean subterfuge; the history of the Papacy, however, had supplied a precedent. Eugenius IV protested on his deathbed that his concessions to Germany were not to be understood by his successors to derogate from the privileges of the Holy See. If the Church claimed rights which could not be alienated, civil communities had also an inalienable right to existence. Julius II had used spiritual censures as a means of temporal warfare, and had compelled Venice to plead guilty to sins which it did not admit. Venice registered the fact that its admission was outward only, and did not express its real mind. It waited its opportunity to take back what it had been forced to abandon; and the papal grasp over the Venetian Church was not long permitted. Venice never recognized the agreement with Julius II as legal. In no long time it reasserted its independence, and devised means for its protection against papal encroachments. The next attempt to excommunicate Venice ended in signal failure.

Another protest against the Pope which proceeded from Venice deserves attention. It was a fly-sheet circulated amongst the people, criticizing, in moderate and dignified language, the conduct of Julius II, judged by the standard of his high office. It took the form of a letter, according to the custom of the times—a letter addressed by Christ to His unworthy Vicar. Christ died, so ran the contents, to redeem mankind; He chose His disciples to hand on the testimony of His gracious will; He committed to them the administration of all things which concerned men's salvation. This pastoral office was well discharged by S. Peter; let Julius compare himself with that example. Has he shown Peter’s humility, gentleness, and love for souls? Has he not been the cause of deeds of blood and shame?. “Numbers of souls”, so Christ is made to say, “have gone to perdition for whom We, who created heaven and earth, suffered such bitter passion; ay, and We would suffer it anew, to save one of the least of all those who through your fault have gone into eternal fire, and who call to Us for vengeance on your wicked deeds. All this evil comes from your desire for temporal rule; and the ill that has befallen is but a small part of what will follow if you do not amend. Think for a moment; if one of your servants withstood your designs about temporal things, how great would be your anger, how severe his punishment. What then shall We do, whose wishes for men's salvation are being withstood by you? We use the rod of correction before We draw the sword of judgment”.

There is no mention of national loss in this document, and no appeal to national patriotism. The New Learning set before men’s minds the inherent dignity of man. On one side the overmastering sense of individual power led to moral recklessness : on another side it led to a deeper religious earnestness. The Middle Ages had been concerned chiefly with the outward organization of the Church and its doctrines; the Renaissance passionately emphasized the value of the individual soul. It is this yearning after a regenerate society, which shall encourage a noble life in the individual man, that makes Savonarola so attractive, so different from those who went before him. The same feeling is expressed in this Venetian broadside. Many things might have been said against Julius II; what the writer chose to emphasize was the pitiful sight of the loss of souls for whom Christ died—a sight sad enough under all circumstances, but made terrible by the thought that these horrors were the work of him who was Christ's Vicar upon earth. The Papacy seemed to be in its most glorious days. It was carrying the strong organization which the Middle Ages had forged into the battlefield which the Renaissance had opened out. But the Renaissance was by no means wholly immoral or wholly irreligious; and the words of the Venetian clerk were but an echo of the sense of misery and sadness which filled many humble souls who looked out on the distracted world.

CHAPTER XV.

THE WARS OF JULIUS II

1510-1511.

When Julius II absolved Venice and thereby withdrew from the League of Cambrai, he boasted that he had stuck a dagger into the heart of the French king. It was a treacherous blow. The Pope had been foremost in urging the spoliation of Venice; and when he had despoiled her to his heart's content, he grudged France the share that she had won. As soon as Venice had been reduced to become the handmaid of the Pope, he was desirous to raise her up again sufficiently to be a check to the preponderance of France in North Italy. He had succeeded in isolating Venice; he was now anxious to isolate France. Having broken up one league as soon as he gained his own ends by it, he wished to form another directed against the instrument of his first success.

It was, however, useless to irritate France until he was sure of allies. He counted on reviving the old hostility of Maximilian against Louis XII; he expected that Henry VIII of England would be ready to seize a good opportunity for prosecuting the old claims of England against France : if a movement was once begun he knew that Ferdinand of Spain would join. Accordingly he began a series of negotiations which did not at first succeed. Maximilian refused the Pope's overtures with anger, and summoned the Diet, which promised him aid in carrying on the war against Venice. However, Julius II had not a great opinion of Maximilian; he looked on him as a 'naked child', and comforted himself with the assurance that before the year was over, Germany would be at war with France. But both Julius II and the Venetians received a severe blow when the news was brought in April that Henry VIII had renewed his father’s league of amity with France. When Bainbridge, the English envoy, protested to the Pope that he knew nothing about the matter, Julius II answered in anger, “You are all villains”.

But though Julius II found that the powers of Europe hung back from hos proposed league against France, he still showed his own feelings. One day in April the French Cardinal of Albi read a letter from his brother, who was engaged in defending Verona against the Venetians. He told the Pope that the Venetians had almost made an entry, in which case the French and Germans would have been cut to pieces; but God willed otherwise. “The devil willed otherwise”, was the Pope’s angry exclamation. Julius II did not cease to prosecute his plans; he bribed Matthias Lang, Bishop of Gurk, the chief adviser of Maximilian. More important was an alliance which he made with the Swiss through the help of Matthias Schinner, Bishop of Sitten. The Swiss had been the mercenary allies of France, but their alliance for ten years was expired, and Louis XII refused to grant the terms which they demanded. Schinner had already been employed by Julius II to raise 200 Swiss as a bodyguard for the Pope. The Swiss guard of Julius II was retained by his successors, and still exists, wearing the picturesque uniform which Michel Angelo is said to have designed. Julius II recognized the cleverness of Schinner in discharging his first commission, and gave him legatine powers; through his persuasions the Swiss made an alliance for five years with the Pope and undertook to enter Lombardy with 15,000 men. When Julius II heard this news he could not repress his delight, and said to the Venetian envoy, “Now is the chance to drive the French out of Italy”. He could not rest for thinking over his designs. “These Frenchmen”, he said, “have taken away my appetite and I cannot sleep. Last night I spent in pacing my room, for I could not rest. My heart tells me all is well; I have hopes that all will be well after my troubles in the past. It is God’s will to chastise the Duke of Ferrara and free Italy from the French”.

The schemes of Julius II were directed to a new conquest for the Church. He had won Bologna and the Romagna; he now cast longing eyes on the duchy of Ferrara, which was a fief of the Roman See. The Duke of Ferrara was a member of the League of Cambrai and had extended his dominions at the expense of Venice. He had not followed the Pope in deserting the league, but remained a firm ally of Louis XII, under whose protection he was. An attack upon him was a declaration of war against France; and towards this Julius II resolutely advanced. Hitherto he had refused to recognize either Louis XII or Ferdinand as King of Naples, and had demanded that their claims should be submitted to his decision. On June 17 he invested Ferdinand with Naples, without, however, obtaining from him any definite promise of immediate help.

With the prospects of war the spirits of Julius II rose, and he talked ceaselessly of his assured triumph. The Frenchmen found Rome unpleasant for them; Cardinal Tremouille in July tried to escape, but was brought back and imprisoned in the Castle of S. Angelo, where he was not even allowed to see his chaplain. When he pleaded that the constitutions made in the Conclave provided that no Cardinal should be imprisoned without a trial in Consistory, the Pope answered, “By God’s body, if he makes me angry I will have his head cut off in the Campo de' Fiori”. When some of the Cardinals tried to intercede, the Pope angrily asked if they wished to share his prison. He stormed at the French so that the Venetian envoy remarked with complacency that they were treated one half worse than they themselves had been the year before.

Julius II began his war in the manner, which had now become customary, of publishing a Bull of excommunication against Alfonso, Duke of Ferrara. He took a childish joy in preparing it, and said to the Venetian envoy, “It will be more terrible than the Bull against you; for you were not our subjects, but he is a rebel”. When the Bull was laid before a Consistory, all the Cardinals gave their assent save the Cardinal of S. Malo; it was of little use to remonstrate with a Pope who threatened imprisonment as a reward for counsel. The charges against Alfonso ranged from general complaints of ingratitude towards the Holy See to the specific crime of making salt at Comaccio to the prejudice of the papal mines at Cervia; and he was excommunicated as a son of iniquity and a root of perdition. The Pope ordered his Bull to be printed and sent everywhere, and men read with amazement the vigorous language of the Pope; it could not have been stronger if the existence of Christianity had been at stake.

The plan of the Pope’s campaign was skillfully devised. The Swiss detachment of the papal forces advanced by and to cooperate with the Venetian fleet in an attack upon Genoa; another marched into the territory of Ferrara, where it was joined by the Venetian troops; at the same time the Swiss entered Lombardy. But though the plan was well laid it was ill executed. The Genoese did not rise as was expected, and the French fleet brought reinforcements, so that the expedition against Genoa was a failure. The Swiss crossed the Alps to Varese and thence marched to Como; but they showed no eagerness to fight, and the French commander Chaumont bribed their leaders to return. The mercenary soldiers recrossed the mountains and left the French troops free to march to the aid of Ferrara. Their leaders wrote to the Pope saying that they had entered into an agreement for the protection of the Pope’s person, but found that they were expected to war against the King of France and the Emperor; this they were not willing to do, and they offered their services to mediate for the settlement of differences between the Pope and his adversaries.

Julius II wrathfully replied: “Your letter is arrogant and insolent. We did not want your help for the defence of our person, but we hired you and called you into Italy to recover the rights of the Roman Church from the rebellious Duke of Ferrara. Amongst his helpers is certainly Louis, King of France, who in this and other things has greatly injured us. Against the Emperor far be it from us to think or do anything, because we know his filial reverence towards the Holy See. In writing to us to lay aside our plots and make peace, you are not only impudent but impious and insulting. They are the true plotters who by good words and deceitful promises seek to deceive us. In offering yourselves as mediators you show yourselves arrogant and forgetful of your condition. Princes of high dignity daily offer themselves, and we can make peace without you. You ought not to desert our service after receiving our pay. We cannot bring ourselves to believe that you purpose to make an agreement with the French king and fight against the Roman Church. If you do, we will reconcile ourselves with the French king, will league ourselves with him and the Emperor against you, and will use all our temporal and spiritual arms against breakers of their faith and deserters of the Church. We will send your letters and your sealed agreements throughout the world, that all men may know that they can have no dealings with you or put trust in your words; so that you may be in all nations hateful and infamous”.

These were brave words, and they show a resolute policy. In fact, resolute action was the one redeeming quality of the statesmanship of Julius II; he knew what he wanted, and his prompt action filled his opponents with alarm. Louis XII was astonished, and supposed that the Pope had secured powerful allies. Instead of acting promptly he was desirous of establishing an accord with other powers, and wished to temporize till he was sure of Maximilian and Henry VIII. So instead of attacking the Pope by armed force, he weakly decided to carry the struggle into the field of ecclesiastical politics. He summoned a synod of French bishops, which met at Tours on September 14. Eight questions were submitted, and were answered according to the royal wishes. The prelates of France declared the wrongfulness of the Pope’s actions and the right of the king to defend himself; they revived the decrees of the Council of Basel and approved of the summons of a General Council which should inquire into the conduct of the Pope.

In the eyes of a shrewd politician like Machiavelli, all this was sheer waste of time, and proceeded from inability to grasp the facts of the case. “To put a bridle on the Pope”, he wrote, “there is no need of so many emperors, or so much talking. Others who made war upon the Pope either surprised him, as did Philip le Bel, or had him shut up in the Castle of S. Angelo by his own barons, who are not so much extinguished that they cannot be revived”. Machiavelli knew the real weakness of the Pope’s temporal power, which would fall at once before a determined onslaught; but the French king took matters seriously, and wished to give his opposition to the Pope an appearance of ecclesiastical regularity. It was a grave mistake; for a General Council could not well deal with questions which were purely political, nor was there any reasonable chance of obtaining the assent of Europe to such a Council. Henry VIII of England was already forming plans of using the embarrassment of France for his own advantage; Maximilian still entertained the preposterous plan of making himself Pope as well as Emperor; Ferdinand of Spain was quite content that the Pope should harass France as much as he pleased. The hesitation of Louis XII left the field open for Julius II’s plans.

Still Julius II found it more difficult than he had expected to conquer Ferrara. His troops, joined with the Venetians, took Modena, but were not strong enough to besiege Ferrara, which was well fortified. In the beginning of September the Pope set out from Rome to enjoy the triumph which he then thought secure; but as he drew near to Bologna he learned much that made him uneasy. The Bolognese were discontented with the government of Cardinal Alidosi, a worthless man for whom the Pope showed an unaccountable fondness. Already Alidosi had been charged with peculation, had been summoned to Rome to answer, and had been acquitted. He was hated by the people whom he governed; he was lukewarm in his conduct of the war against Ferrara; he was strongly suspected of intriguing with the French. In spite of all this Julius II persisted in trusting him, even when in Bologna he found nothing save disappointment. To the other causes of his grief was soon added the news that five Cardinals, amongst them Carvajal, had gone to Florence and thence made their way to the French camp. It was clear that they would lend their authority to Louis XII’s plan of summoning a Council, which might end in another schism.

The news of the withdrawal of the Swiss reached the Pope at Bologna, and he soon found out its serious effect. Chaumont, the Grand Master of Milan, turned his troops southwards and made a feint of attacking Modena; when the papal troops had gathered for its defence, he suddenly turned and marched against Bologna. By this movement he divided the papal forces, and Bologna was ill fitted to offer any resistance. Only 600 footmen and 300 horse were left for its defence; it was ill supplied with victuals; the people were discontented: the expelled Bentivogli were hovering near, and a rising might be expected at a favorable moment. Julius II was ill of a fever and was confined to his bed; he could not flee, as the country was beset by parties of French horsemen, and on October 19 Chaumont was within ten miles of Bologna.

Julius II did what he could. He promised many boons to the people of Bologna, who mustered under arms and received his message with applause. He dragged himself from his bed and, seated on the balcony, gave them his benediction; but he did not put much trust in the Bolognese. His courage left him and he gave himself up for lost; he told the Venetian envoy that if the Venetian army did not cross the Po within twenty-four hours he would make terms with the French; “Oh, what a fall is ours!” he exclaimed. Negotiations were already opened with Chaumont, and it was believed that Cardinal Alidosi was in a secret understanding with him. Chaumont's proposals were that the Pope should again join the League of Cambrai and abandon Venice; that the question of Ferrara should be left for settlement by the Kings of France, Spain, England, and the Emperor; that the Pope should give the French king the power of appointing to all benefices within his dominions. These demands were crushing to Julius II, but he saw no way of escape. All night he lay in restless misery, uttering delirious cries of despair; “I shall be taken by the French. Let me die. I will drink poison and end all”. Then he burst into passionate reproaches—every one had broken faith and deserted him. Then he uttered exclamations of revenge and swore that he would ruin them all. At last he made up his mind to sign the agreement with Chaumont; he ordered all to leave him and went to sleep. Every one thought that the agreement was actually signed; but suddenly Spanish and Venetian reinforcements made their appearance, and the Pope’s spirits revived. Chaumont had wasted his time and lost his opportunity by his negotiations. He shrank from seizing the Pope when he was defenceless; he did not venture an attack now that Bologna was reinforced. The French forces sullenly withdrew, and the first use that the Pope made of his freedom was to publish an excommunication against Chaumont and all in the French camp.

It was some time before the Pope recovered from his fever. During his illness he allowed his beard to grow, and did not shave it on his recovery. He was the first Pope who wore a beard, and in this he adopted a fashion which, though not adopted by his successor, was followed by Clement VII and afterwards found favor with the Popes, Men said he grew his beard through rage against France; indeed, it was in keeping with the character of Julius II that he wished to wear the appearance of a warrior rather than a priest.

As soon as he was recovered of his illness he burned to wipe away the memory of his failure, which had indeed been signal. He had narrowly escaped a crushing disaster, and had escaped only by the incapacity of his foes. He had run into danger without due consideration; his action had been bold, but he had lacked the political foresight necessary for carrying out great plans. When he looked around him he found that his camp was in disorder, and he was disappointed in the number of his troops. He was no judge of men, and was ill served by those whom he most trusted. He still clung blindly to Cardinal Alidosi, and he prevailed on the Venetians to release from prison the Marquis of Mantua and appoint him commander of their forces. He seemed to think that previous imprisonment was a guarantee of fidelity; but both Alidosi and the Marquis of Mantua were untrustworthy. They did not believe in the Pope's schemes, and thought only of keeping on good terms with the French king. Julius II was resolute in the choice of ends; he lacked the sagacity needed for the choice of means.

The Pope’s forces were insufficient for the siege of Siege of Ferrara; but he was determined not to end his campaign ingloriously. He joined his troops with those of Venice and attacked an outpost of the dominions of Ferrara, the County of Mirandola, which was held by the widow of Count Ludovico, a daughter of Gian Giacomo Trivulzio, a Milanese general in the pay of France. The two castles of Concordia and Mirandola lay on the west of Ferrara, and by holding them the Pope could prevent the advance of the French troops to its aid. Concordia soon fell; but the widowed countess held Mirandola with stubbornness. The winter was severe and the ground lay deep in snow. It was contrary to the traditions of Italian warfare to carry on military operations in the winter, but Julius II overbore all opposition to his plans. He resolved to shame the lukewarmness of his generals by going in person to the camp. On January 2, 1511, he set out for Bologna, and reached Mirandola on January 6, borne in a litter through snow which was nearly three feet deep.

The Pope showed himself well fitted for military life. His generals trembled before him as he roundly abused them for their incapacity, and called them "thieves and villains", with a copious garniture of military oaths and coarse jests. He spared no one, not even his nephew, the Duke of Urbino. He threw off entirely the decorum of his priestly office and behaved as a general. Though old and just recovered from a long illness he walked about in the snow, showed himself to all, and created amusement by the vigorous energy with which he kept on repeating “Mirandola must be taken”, till the words flowed with rhythmic cadence from his mouth. He presided at councils of war, arranged the position of the cannon, directed military operations, and inspected his troops. Still, in spite of all his efforts Mirandola held out; till the Pope, to encourage his soldiers and strike terror into his foes, gave out that if it did not surrender at once he would give it up to pillage. This seemed to the Cardinals to be a strong measure, and the Cardinal of Reggio suggested that it would be better to exact a heavy ransom. The Pope replied, "I will not do that, for there will be no fair division; the poor soldiers will get nothing, and the ransom will all go to the Duke of Urbino; I know how these things are managed. If they choose to surrender at once I will deal gently with them; if not, I will give them up to pillage".

The Pope's threat did not reduce Mirandola, which bravely returned the fire of the cannon. One day the Pope's headquarters were struck by a ball, and one of his servants was killed. He removed to other quarters, and they likewise were struck; so in the evening the Pope came back to his first abode and ordered the damage to be repaired at once. His personal courage awakened the admiration of the soldiers; “Holy Father”, said the Venetians, “we look upon you as our officer”. Julius II delighted in such tokens of recognition; his spirits rose, and he lived as a boon companion with the Venetian generals and officials. “He sits and talks”, wrote Lippomano, “of all sorts of things; how different people live, about different kinds of men, about the cold weather he had felt at Lyons, about his plans against Ferrara. There is no need for anyone else to speak”.

At last, on January 19, Mirandola was driven to surrender. In the council held to decide on terms Julius II went back from his original menace; he proposed to spare the inhabitants of Mirandola, but exact them a sum of money which should be divided among his troops; all foreign soldiers were to be put to the sword. Fabrizio Colonna interposed, “Holy Father, for a hundred foreign soldiers will you raise this disturbance? Let them ransom themselves like the rest”. The Pope angrily answered, “Begone, I know better than you”. Luckily there were no French troops found in the little garrison of Mirandola, and the Pope was saved from an act of butchery. He entered Mirandola through a breach in the wall, as there was no other mode of entrance, for the gate had been walled up and the drawbridge destroyed. When once Mirandola was taken the Pope’s anger passed away, and he did his utmost to restrain his troops from pillage and to protect the people. The countess was brought before him and knelt at his feet; he looked at her with a clouded face and said, “So you would not surrender? Get you gone, for I wish to give this land to Gian Francesco”—the brother of the late duke, who was in the Pope's camp. He ordered the countess to be honorably escorted to Reggio.

The capture of Mirandola had tasked the resources and the personal energy of Julius II; and he could not really exult in his triumph, for it only showed how difficult was the attainment of his ultimate end, the reduction of Ferrara. Julius II, in person, had taken Mirandola; he could not continue to exercise the office of general, and he had no capable general in his employ. He felt this and stormed at the Duke of Urbino and the rest; but he could devise no other way of mending matters than bursts of passionate language. When he had to design a plan of future action he was irresolute, and changed his opinion from day to day. He negotiated with the Duke of Ferrara that he should abandon his alliance with France, but the duke refused. To detach Maximilian from France the Pope gave up Modena, which was a fief of the empire, to the imperial general and advised him to demand Reggio also on the same ground. By this means Reggio and Modena would serve as a further barrier between Ferrara and the French troops at Milan; and if the surrender of Reggio was refused, Julius II hoped that the refusal might lead to a breach between France and Maximilian.

None of the Pope’s plans succeeded, as the Duke of Ferrara defeated the papal and Venetian forces on February 28. The Pope’s treasury was well-nigh exhausted; so he listened to overtures for a general pacification, and meanwhile endeavored to strengthen himself by a new creation of the unwonted number of eight Cardinals. Amongst them was Christopher Bainbridge, Archbishop of York, and Matthias Schinner, Bishop of Sitten, his legate amongst the Swiss. The Venetian envoy calculated that the Pope obtained an average of about 10,000 ducats for each of his creations, and with his treasury thus enriched Julius II could keep his forces for some time longer in the field. To every one's surprise he chose Cardinal Bainbridge as legate in his army. "It is a great matter", wrote the Venetian envoy, "that an Englishman should hold such a post. He is capable enough and quite Italianate".

Meanwhile, in March, representatives of France, Germany, and Spain met for a conference at Mantua, and drew up proposals for the restoration of peace. The imperial minister, Matthias Lang, Bishop of Gurk, was deputed by them to carry their resolutions to the Pope, who had returned to Bologna. There Lang appeared on April 10, and astonished the Curia by his magnificence, his pride, and his disdain of the offers by which the Pope sought to win him to his side. Venice was ready to bribe a man who could bring about peace between herself and Maximilian; Julius II had reserved for him a Cardinal’s hat, and promised him the rich patriarchate of Aquileia and other benefices to the annual value of 1,000,000 florins. But Lang showed no desire for these good things. He behaved like a king rather than an ambassador; he sat in the Pope's presence, and did not remove his biretta when he spoke to him. He proposed to the Pope schemes of pacification; when the Pope refused, he warned him that the Emperor and the Kings of France and Aragon would resist his unreasonable doings. On April 25 he left Bologna; and his escort as they rode out of the town raised the cries of 'The Empire!', 'France!' and even the rallying cry of the Bentivogli. Men marveled at the magnanimity of the Bishop of Gurk, and said that the Pope would be deposed by a Council and another elected in his stead.

Julius II prepared for a renewal of war by an excommunication of the Duke of Ferrara and all who protected the enemies of the Church. He had, however, a new general to oppose him, one who understood the Pope's weakness, and was withheld by no scruples. Chaumont, the French commander in Lombardy, died in March, and on his deathbed sent to beg for the Pope's absolution; Louis XII appointed as his successor Gian Giacomo Trivulzio, who as the father of the dispossessed Countess of Mirandola had a personal reason of hostility against Julius II. When negotiations were broken off, Trivulzio repeated the plan of Chaumont and made a sudden dash on Bologna. Julius II. had already had experience of what might befall him in that unlucky city, and hastily withdrew to Ravenna, leaving the care of Bologna to Cardinal Alidosi and the Duke of Urbino. The discord between the two prevented common action. Cardinal Alidosi was afraid of a rising of the Bolognese on behalf of the Bentivogli, and after a futile attempt to call out the city levies, fled by night from his post. The Duke of Urbino followed his example; his troops were pursued by Trivulzio, and suffered heavy losses. On May 23 Trivulzio entered Bologna, and the Bentivogli were restored. The people hailed with delight the return of their former lords; they pulled down the castle which Julius II had built; they overthrew his statue which Michel Angelo had cast; it was sold as for old bronze to the Duke of Ferrara, who recast it into a cannon which he mockingly christened 'Giulio'.

The loss of Bologna was followed in a few days by the loss of Mirandola, which surrendered to Trivulzio. All the Pope's conquests had vanished in a moment; his political plans seemed at an end, and he was helpless. Still Julius II, when the news was brought him at Ravenna, showed no signs of discouragement. His first impulse was to defend himself where he knew that he was indefensible, for his confidence in the legate Alidosi. He summoned his Cardinals, and told them that Bologna had fallen, not through the fault of Alidosi, but through the treachery of the citizens; then he suddenly discharged his pent-up wrath against the Duke of Urbino, saying, “If the duke, my nephew, should come into my hands, I would have him drawn and quartered as he deserves”. He next turned his attention to the condition of his army, and heard to his grief that it had been attacked by the rustics during its retreat, and was almost entirely dispersed. After another fit of passion he set to work to devise means for the reconstitution of his forces, and sent for the Duke of Urbino to confer with him.

Cardinal Alidosi had shut himself up in the castle of Rivo for security; but when his friends in the Curia told him that the Pope’s anger was not directed against himself, but against the Duke of Urbino, he decided to come to Ravenna, and take measures for securing himself in his legation. Early next day he arrived in Ravenna, and after a short rest mounted his mule to visit the Pope. Julius II knew of his coming, and cut short a stormy interview with the Duke of Urbino, that he might be ready to receive his favorite. When the duke, beside himself with rage, was returning through the street, he met Alidosi, who uncovered his head and greeted him with a mocking smile. The duke leapt from his horse, and furiously seized the bridle of Alidosi’s mule. The Cardinal dismounted in alarm, and the duke, drawing his sword, struck him on the head, saying, “Take that, traitor, as you have deserved”. The Cardinal’s retinue, which had drawn up to salute the duke, uttered a cry, and some rushed forward; but the duke bade them be still, and as they paused, doubtful if he was executing the Pope’s vengeance or his own, he redoubled his blows till Alidosi fell to the ground, and was dispatched by two of the duke’s attendants. While all stood irresolute, the duke mounted his horse and rode off to Urbino.

The murder was horrible enough; but no one save the Pope regretted Alidosi’s death. With uplifted hands the Cardinals gave thanks that he was gone, while Julius II, gave way to an unrestrained display of grief. He wept passionate tears, beating his breast and refusing all food; he could not endure to stay in Ravenna, but left it next day for Rimini, whither he was carried in a litter, with drawn curtains through which were heard the lamentable cries of the Pope. He entered Rimini by night, that no one should see him in his broken state. Next day the Cardinals ventured to comfort him, and suggested that Alidosi’s death was not an unmixed loss. Julius II listened, and with the astounding capacity which he possessed for quick change of mood, soon began to rail at Alidosi as a villain. The vigor of Julius II rested on an acceptance of what the day might bring forth, and he wasted none of his energy on useless regrets.

It is hard to account for the infatuation of Julius II towards Cardinal Alidosi, and we cannot wonder that contemporary scandal attributed it to the vilest motives. It is certainly a blot upon his reputation as a statesman that he persisted in giving his confidence to a man who was entirely worthless, and whom every one suspected of betraying his interests. Alidosi only sought his own profit; his government of Bologna was as bad as possible; he was guilty of misappropriating the Pope's money, and when the charge was clear, he was nevertheless acquitted. Julius II had the capacity for forming great designs, and had the courage to carry them out; but he had no power of choosing fitting agents, or of inspiring others with his own zeal. He undertook an expedition of the utmost moment, with no better counselor than Alidosi and no better general than his own nephew the Duke of Urbino. Even then he did not care to enforce unity of action between the two, but listened to Alidosi’s complaints against the duke, and so fomented jealousy which was sure to lead to political disaster and which ended in a brutal murder.

When Julius II arrived at Rimini there was fixed on the door of the Church of S. Francesco a document summoning a General Council to meet at Pisa on September 1. This citation rehearsed the decrees of the Council of Constance, set forth the Pope's neglect to summon a Council in accordance with their provisions, pointed out the difficulties of the Church, and assumed the adhesion of the Emperor and the French king to the proposed Council. It bore the signatures of nine Cardinals, all known to be discontented. Four of them, however, declared that they had given no authority for the use made of their names, and withdrew their signatures. The leader of this revolt of the Cardinals was the Spaniard, Carvajal; with him were Borgia and Sanseverino, and the French Cardinals Briçonnet and Brie. It is difficult to estimate fairly the motives which induced Carvajal to take this step. He was a man of high character, great learning, and much experience of affairs. In his early years he had distinguished himself by a book defending the authenticity of the donation of Constantine against the criticism of Lorenzo Valla. Sixtus IV summoned him to Rome and made him chamberlain; Alexander VI was delighted to find in the Curia a Spaniard on whom he could confer the dignity of Cardinal; and Carvajal was employed by him in many negotiations, so that he thoroughly understood the politics of Europe, and was well known in all the European courts. On Alexander VI's death he seemed the most likely man for his successor, and was aggrieved at the intrigues of Cardinal Rovere which led to the election of Pius III as a make-way for his own election. It would seem that Carvajal took Rovere’s early life for his model. As Rovere had opposed Alexander VI and tried to depose him by French help, so Carvajal used the same arts against Rovere when he became Pope. He waited till he saw him engaged in a perilous undertaking which raised against him many enemies; then he put himself at the head of a band of discontented Cardinals, and relying on the support of France, raised the old cry of a reforming Council. Perhaps Carvajal was sincere in his desire for reform; he was certainly sincere in a desire for his own advancement. He trusted to his large experience and to his personal knowledge of European sovereigns; and tried every means to form a strong party against Julius II by a judicious mixture of personal, political, and ecclesiastical grounds.

Julius II was well informed of Carvajal’s intrigues; indeed Henry VIII of England had forwarded to him Carvajal’s letters to himself. The summons of a schismatic Council was no surprise to the Curia; but when the citation appeared no one ventured to speak to the Pope about it. Julius II did not stay long at Rimini, but went southwards to Ancona, where he issued a terrible excommunication against the revolted Bologna. Then he made his way slowly to Rome, which he entered sadly on June 27.

Though he had suffered great reverses, Julius II did not regard himself defeated. He knew the weakness of his opponent, and pitted his own resolute spirit against the feeble mind of Louis XII. Louis XII did not wish to push the Pope to extremities and did not use his opportunities, but hoped to obtain peace by menaces. After the capture of Bologna, Trivulzio, who might easily have taken the Pope prisoner and entered Rome as a conqueror, was ordered to withdraw his troops to Milan. In like manner Louis XII encouraged the rebellious Cardinals to summon their Council at Pisa, and then entered into negotiations for peace with Julius II. The Pope at once saw the weakness of his adversary, and made use of the delay. He answered the rebellious Cardinals on July 18 by convoking a Council to be held at the Lateran on April 19, 1512. Moreover, in his letter of summons, he boldly met his opponents in the point where his own case was weakest. They might fairly urge against him that they were only following the example which he had set. As Cardinal he had besought the French king to call a Council and depose a Pope who was disturbing the peace of Christendom; where he had failed they were successful. Julius II accepted the position. The Cardinals, he said, accused him of neglecting to call a Council, Was it not his zeal for a Council that had drawn on him the hostility of Alexander VI? Had he not been tossed about by land and sea, had he not faced the perils of the Alps, solely that he might revive this laudable custom which had fallen into disuse? He lamented that the troubles of the times had prevented him from summoning a Council before. The times were still perilous; nevertheless he was prepared to undertake the holy work of extinguishing schism, reforming the Church, and arranging a crusade against the Turk. For these purposes he summoned a Council to Rome as the safest and fittest place. It was sagacious policy on the part of Julius II, and deprived the Council of Pisa of all claim to legitimacy. It was useless for a few Cardinals to hold a General Council against a contumacious Pope, when the Pope had declared his willingness to meet them, and had summoned a Council himself.

Meanwhile Julius II was engaged in carrying on meaningless negotiations with Louis XII. He had no wish for peace so long as he had any prospect of gaining allies, and he knew that allies were at hand. King Ferdinand of Spain had at length decided to abandon the League of Cambrai; he had recovered from Venice all that he could claim, and he did not wish to see the French arms making further progress in Italy. Already, in June, Ferdinand had offered to help the Pope in the recovery of Bologna, and held out hopes that Henry VIII of England might join the alliance. Even in his negotiations with England Julius II showed his incapacity to find trustworthy agents. He had sent from Bologna an envoy, Hieronimo Bonvixi, apparently recommended by Cardinal Alidosi, who made known to the French envoy in London all that passed between himself and the English king. Henry VIII suspected him and set spies to watch him. His treachery was discovered, and he confessed that he was acting in pursuance of Alidosi’s instructions. Henry VIII informed the Pope, who requested him to punish Bonvixi according to his deserts. This incident serves to show the weakness of Louis XII, who was content to negotiate with an enemy whom he knew to be devising an alliance against him. He was well acquainted with the Pope’s plan, which rapidly took shape. It was arranged that Ferdinand was to send troops to aid the Pope against Bologna and Ferrara: England was to attack France, while Venice by sea and land invaded the French possessions in Italy.

Before this treaty could be definitely arranged, Rome was thrown into alarm by the illness of the Pope. On August 17 Julius II was confined to his bed, and three days later his life was despaired of. There were fears that the Orsini would seize the city in the name of France, and the Colonna hastened to return. The Cardinals began to dispose of the succession of Julius II; even the renegades at Pisa prepared to return to Rome for the approaching Conclave. On August 21 Julius II was unconscious, and the city was full of excitement; an attempt was even made to revive the old republican spirit, and seize the opportunity of beginning a new epoch in the history of Rome. The leader was Pompeo Colonna, Bishop of Rieti, a man full of vigor and energy, whose youth had been spent in the camp. He had fought with bravery in the Neapolitan campaigns, but was driven by his uncles to take orders that he might inherit the ecclesiastical offices of Cardinal Giovanni Colonna. Against his will, Pompeo had entered the Cardinal’s household, and on his death, in 1508, had been appointed to the rich bishopric of Rieti. Pompeo had watched with keen interest the stirring events in which he had no share; he longed for an active life, and scorned the atmosphere of clerical intrigue which surrounded Rome. As a Roman noble he looked down upon the strangers whom Julius II raised to the Cardinalate, and was indignant that no Roman was called to that dignity. At an assembly of the Roman people in the Capitol, Pompeo Colonna appeared and spoke with passionate energy. He exhorted the Romans to rise and recover the liberty of which they had been robbed by the deceitful arts of priests. It was for them to rule the city: it was for priests and Popes to take care of the Church, and if they did so rightly they would not fail to receive due respect. As it was, Rome lay at the mercy of the avarice and lusts of a handful of priests, and had lost all memory of its true position. The old Roman stock was well-nigh destroyed; half-barbarous strangers lorded it over the city. The Romans were stirred by this unwonted outburst of patriotic feeling, and agreed to arm and compel the Cardinals, before the approaching Conclave, to take oath that they would abolish the taxes and restore the old government of the Roman Republic. They arranged to guard the Conclave and extort from the new Pope a similar oath before they would allow him to proceed to his coronation.

The Cardinals who hankered after the succession of Julius II, and the Romans who girded themselves to recover their liberty, were alike doomed to disappointment. Julius II recovered consciousness on August 22, and rapidly showed his old energy. He asked for a drink of wine, which the doctors refused. The Pope sent for the captain of his guard and said, “If you do not give me wine, I will have you shut up in the Castle of S. Angelo”. He had his own way, and his willfulness did not prevent his recovery. He prepared for approaching death by pardoning his nephew the Duke of Urbino, who was in Rome awaiting his trial for Alidosi’s murder. Julius II was by this time convinced of Alidosi’s treachery, on which alone the duke rested his defence; he gave him absolution, and sent for 36,000 ducats from his treasury, which he distributed amongst his two nephews and his daughter Felice.

The Roman barons, who had been so brave at the Capitol, now found their position awkward. With a view of putting a good face on their action, they met on August 28 and signed an agreement of peace amongst themselves, undertaking to lay aside their private feuds and live in amity. At first no one ventured to tell the irascible Pope what had happened during his illness, and one of his first acts was to appoint Pompeo Colonna his legate in Lombardy. Pompeo was somewhat surprised at this mark of favor, but after a few days went to visit the Pope. By this time Julius II had been informed of Pompeo’s conduct; for once he was mindful of his dignity and sent him a message: “Tell him that I will not bandy angry words with an insolent rebel”. Pompeo left the Vatican and withdrew from Rome. He took refuge in Subiaco, and most of the Roman barons judged it wise to flee from the Pope’s wrath. Pompeo turned to martial ambition, and wished to raise forces and join the French army, but was restrained by the warm remonstrances of his uncle Prospero.

CHAPTER XVI.

THE HOLY LEAGUE. 1511-1513.

After his recovery Julius II hastened to arrange definitely his measures against France. On October 5 a league between the Papacy, Ferdinand, and Venice, for the recovery of Bologna and the defence of the Church, was published in Rome; Henry VIII of England and Maximilian were allowed time to join it, and on November 17 Henry VIII signified his adhesion. Julius II could now look proudly around him. He had succeeded in enlisting two of the kings of Europe and the powerful republic of Venice as supporters of his policy and defenders of the Holy See.

The first use which the Pope made of his secure position was to strike a blow against the schismatic Cardinals of Pisa. On October 24 he declared the policy of Cardinals Carvajal, René de Brie, Borgia, and Briçonnet to be deprived of their dignities, and he annulled their Council summoned at Pisa. They on their side were ready to carry on the ecclesiastical warfare against the Pope; but they were only faintly supported. Louis XII, engaged in fruitless negotiations with Julius II, was only half-hearted about the Council's business. Maximilian at first took the matter seriously in hand, and requested a learned professor at Heidelberg, Jacob Wimpheling, to draw up a list of the grievances of the German Church and to report on the means for their redress. He devised a Pragmatic Sanction for Germany after the model of that which had proved to be a failure in France. He wrote to the Florentines and commended the Council to their care, saying, “We intend to prosecute it, nor will we by any means desist, for we see that it is necessary for the whole commonwealth of Christendom”. But Maximilian’s good intentions were thwarted by his fantastic aim of having himself elected Pope, and his interest in ecclesiastical matters was bounded by this object. The illness of Julius II awakened his hopes, and he thought that the Cardinals would raise few difficulties. He wrote to his daughter that he was scheming “to have himself appointed coadjutor to the Pope, so that after his death we may be assured of having the Papacy and becoming priest, and afterwards a saint; so that you will be under the necessity of adoring me after my death, of which I shall be very proud”. With such childish aims before him, Maximilian was not likely to support the Council with vigor. He and Louis XII had different objects, though both wished to terrify the Pope. Julius II was not terrified, and met this clumsy artifice of a Council with a resolute bearing which condemned it at once to failure. No one could hope that the Council of Pisa would benefit the Church; Henry VIII of England only said what everyone felt when he wrote to Maximilian that the Council was the result of private animosity and would do more harm than good.

Moreover the Council met with but a cold welcome in the place which had been chosen for its session. Florence had not been able to resist the request of the French king that the Council should sit at Pisa; but as the time of its meeting drew near, the government of Florence feared to incur the manifest enmity of the Pope. The Gonfaloniere Soderini was conscious that he had many enemies, and that the faction of the Medici had been steadily growing in power. The Florentine Republic depended for its maintenance upon the French power in North Italy, and so was regarded with disfavor by the Pope. Soderini shrank from increasing the Pope's ill-will, and wished to withdraw the permission for the Council to sit at Pisa. In September Machiavelli was sent to the Cardinals to try and prevail upon them to abandon their Council; his efforts were naturally useless, and he proceeded to France on the same errand. Louis XII answered that he desired nothing better than peace with the Pope, but if he abandoned the Council the Pope would be less disposed to peace than ever; if he were to change the place of the Council he would offend the Cardinals; but he thought it possible that after one or two sessions had been held at Pisa, the Council might be transferred to Vercelli or some other place. It was clear that as the time drew nigh when the threatened Council was on the point of becoming a reality, every one who had encouraged it was afraid. Julius II showed an amount of caution which was scarcely to be expected from his rash and impetuous nature, in his efforts to crush the Council. He was alive to its possible importance, and neglected no means to deprive it of adherents.

The Cardinals at Pisa found themselves in a poor position but there was no way of drawing back, and they advanced with uneasy dignity. On September 1, the day fixed for the opening of the Council, three proctors appeared, and in an empty church went through the formalities necessary to call the assembly into existence. On September 11 the schismatic Cardinals wrote to their brethren at Rome saying that they would wait for a short time in hopes that the Pope would summon a Council to some neutral place: they could not accept his summons to the Lateran, as Rome was not free and safe for all men. They were answered that the Pope's intentions had been already declared. Accordingly they proceeded on November 1 to begin the work of the Council at Pisa. There were present the Cardinals Carvajal, Briçonnet, Brie, and d'Albret; commissioners claimed to represent three other Cardinals—Borgia, Sanseverino, and Philip of Luxemburg. Besides these there were only fifteen prelates and five abbots, representatives of Louis XII, the Universities of Paris, Toulouse, and Poitou, with a few French doctors.

The Council was ill received in Pisa. The Florentine Government was thoroughly alarmed by the Pope’s menaces, though they feared his political rather than his ecclesiastical action. He laid Florence under interdict for favoring schism; but this produced little effect, for Soderini sent orders to the friars that they should perform divine services in the churches under pain of expulsion from Florence. The friars were not like the secular clergy, and had nothing to lose by the Pope’s displeasure: they obeyed Soderini’s commands, and the Florentines did not suffer any inconvenience from the interdict. More significant, however, was the appointment of Cardinal Medici as legate in the Romagna. The party opposed to Soderini in Florence was thus provided with a leader who was backed by all the power of the Church. Soderini felt his weakness and was only desirous to escape the Pope's anger by ridding himself of the Council as soon as possible. He refused to allow any large body of French troops to enter Pisa for the defence of the Council, and only admitted an escort of 150 French lances, commanded by Odet de Foix, Sieur de Lautrec, who was sent by Louis XII.as protector of the Council.

The people and the clergy of Pisa showed no respect to the fathers of the Council. When on November 1 the procession advanced to the cathedral it found the doors closed, and had to return to the Church of S. Michele for its opening ceremonies. There was much point in the sermon, which dwelt on the small beginnings of the Christian Church, and the great results which followed from the energies ofa scanty band of resolute men.

On November 5 the first session was held in the cathedral, which was now placed at the disposal of the Council, but the magistrates of Pisa refused to close the shops or give any sign of popular recognition. The Council proceeded with due regard to forms. It declared its own legitimacy, annulled all measures directed against it, summoned all prelates to attend, and took under its protection the persons and goods of all who came to Pisa. Cardinal Carvajal was appointed president, and Lautrec protector of the Council. Finally notaries and other officials were elected. On November 7 the second session recognized the decrees of the Council of Toledo as regulating the order to be observed in its proceedings, and declared that all causes concerning members of the Council were to be judged in the Council only and nowhere else; for which purpose four French bishops were appointed judges.

The third session was fixed for November 14; but it was never held. Soderini was only anxious to be rid of the Council; and the unfriendly attitude of the citizens of Pisa did not encourage the Cardinals to stay in a place where they were so coldly welcomed. On November 6 Machiavelli came to remind Cardinal Carvajal of the promise of Louis XII that the Council should be transferred as soon as was decorous. He pointed out that the Pope’s hostility would be less if the Council were removed further from his neighborhood; moreover in France or Germany the people would be more obedient, for the King or the Emperor could use compulsion which the Florentine magistrates had no means of employing towards their subjects. Carvajal said that he would consider what was best. His consideration was quickened by the outbreak of riots between the servants of the Council and the Pisans. They quarreled in the market about buying food; they quarreled in the streets over their ignoble pleasures. At last a serious riot took place, and the rioters tried to storm the Church of S. Michele in which the Cardinals were deliberating. The officers who strove to quell the disturbance were wounded. There was much bloodshed and great excitement. It was clearly time for the Council to leave Pisa; so on November 12 a meeting of emergency was held in Carvajal’s house, at which the Council first decreed that it could not be dissolved till the Church had been reformed, and then decreed its translation to Milan.

The departure from Pisa was dignified. Carvajal thanked the city magistrates for their courtesy, and informed them that the transference of the Council was due to sufficient reasons. The Cardinals were honorably escorted as far as Lucca. “They all departed”, says Ammirato, “to the great delight of the Florentines, the Pisans, and the Council itself, so that on November 15 there remained in Pisa no vestige of this Council”.

This ignominious beginning of the Council was a decided triumph for Julius II. The ecclesiastical opposition was driven to admit that it could find no shelter save directly under the wing of France. It was now apparent to Europe generally that a few French Cardinals and a few French bishops were used as the tools of the French king to annoy the Pope. Carvajal seems to have felt that it was necessary to make a new departure. Before leaving Pisa the Council sent envoys to Julius II, proposing to unite with his Council if it were summoned to some convenient place, either in Italy or outside, provided it were not in the dominions of the Pope or of Venice; they were also to offer the intervention of the Cardinals in settling the affairs of Bologna and Ferrara. The Council's envoys sent from Florence to ask for a safe-conduct; but their messenger was so threatened in Rome that he fled for his life and the envoys advanced no further.

On December 7 the Cardinals entered Milan in state, but were obliged to defer the session which had been fixed for December 13. Milan was reduced to great straits by a formidable invasion of the Swiss, whom Julius II had again employed against his foes. The money of the Pope, the urgency of Cardinal Schinner, and growing ill-will towards France, combined to make the Swiss confederates ready for another expedition into Italy. In the middle of November a force of 20,000 footmen crossed the San Gothard. The French troops in vain tried to prevent them from emerging from the Alpine pass; in the end of November they were at Varese, and the French slowly retreated before them towards Milan. On December 14 the Swiss were in the neighborhood of Milan, where the French were preparing to stand a siege. But the Swiss had no artillery and no supplies; the cold was intense and food was scarce; no messengers came from the Pope or from the Venetians. The Swiss hesitated what to do; then they conferred with the French, and finally retreated across the Alps, marking their way with fire and slaughter.

Again the Pope was angered by the remissness of the Swiss: again his affairs were ill managed. The Holy League moved too slowly for the impatient Pope; the Papal forces were disorganized by the flight from Bologna, and only with Spanish troops could Julius II hope to win back the rebellious city. But the Spanish general, Raimondo de Cardona, Viceroy of Naples, showed no haste in moving; the Venetians were delighted at the advance of the Swiss, but did not join them. The opportunity of striking a decisive blow at the French power was lost by want of combined action amongst the allies.

Freed from the fear of the Swiss invasion, the Council proceeded with its business at Milan; but even when under the immediate protection of France, it received no popular support. The papal interdict was leveled against Milan, and many of the priests observed it, though the governor threatened them with deprivation of their benefices. The people mocked at the Cardinals when they appeared in public, and treated them with no respect. There was no accession to the members of the Council, as Maximilian still refused to send proctors, and no prelates appeared from Germany. There were only five Cardinals and twenty-seven bishops and abbots at the session held on January 4, 1512. There the Cardinals related the ill success of their efforts to negotiate with the Pope, and a term of thirty days was allowed him to change the place of his Council summoned to the Lateran, and so render union possible.

The eyes of Julius II were fixed on the expedition which he had sent into Lombardy. Scarcely had the Swiss retired from Milan before the army of the League marched into the territory of Ferrara with a combined force of Spanish and papal troops of about 20,000 men, led by Raimondo de Cardona. The territory south of the Po fell at once into their hands, and they passed on to the siege of Bologna, where the Bentivogli were aided by Odet de Foix and Ivo d'Allegre.

The Pope already counted on the success of his arms, and wrote letter after letter to his legate, Cardinal Medici, urging prompt action and commissioning him to inflict summary punishment on the Bentivogli.

But the Pope's expectations were doomed to disappointment. France had a general in Italy who knew how to act with decision, Gaston de Foix, Duke of Nemours, a nephew of the French king. Though only twenty-two years old, Gaston de Foix was both a skillful general and a wise statesman. He saw the importance of preventing a junction between the Spanish and Venetian forces, and in the piercing cold of winter hurried across the snow-covered Apennines to the aid of Bologna, which he entered on February 5. His rapid march disconcerted the plans of Cardona, who was driven to withdraw from Bologna into the Romagna. Scarcely had he gone before news was brought that Brescia, always averse to the French rule, had opened its gates to the Venetians. Gaston de Foix at once made a hurried march to Brescia, which he reached in nine days, and took by storm. He was resolved to suppress rebellion by severity. Brescia was given up to pillage, and for two days was ravaged by the fury of a horde of brutal soldiers; more than 8000 were slain, and many of the French were so laden with spoil that they returned home to enjoy it.

Julius II chafed at the ill success of his arms. He bitterly complained that he was entirely in the hands of the Spaniards, who robbed him of his money and did nothing in return. In fact Ferdinand of Spain was more bent upon diplomacy than on military exploits. He was stirring up Henry VIII of England to attack France, and was endeavoring to draw Maximilian into the League. He was not anxious to restore Bologna to the Pope, and ordered his general, Cardona, to avoid a battle; so that Julius II was left to fume and fret over the inactivity of the troops in the Romagna. His legate Cardinal Medici was overwhelmed with complaints, which he vainly tried to pass on to Cardona, who answered that priests knew nothing about war, and their ignorance led them to precipitate counsels. The Council of Pisa appointed Cardinal Sanseverino as its legate in Bologna; and Sanseverino, who was a man of war, was more readily listened to by Gaston de Foix. Moreover Sanseverino’s influence was powerful among the Roman barons, and he strove to stir up the Orsini against the Pope. Rome was so insecure that Julius II withdrew into the Castle of S. Angelo, and the city magistrates urged him to make peace with France; a French victory, they said, would lead to the loss of the Romagna and a tumult in Rome. Julius II answered that he was not opposed to peace, but he must first recover Bologna. Unsafe in Rome, and ill served by the Spanish general, Julius II felt that his position was one of serious danger.

His alarm was well founded, for Gaston de Foix was resolved to give his enemies no rest. Not contented with thwarting their plans and reducing them to inactivity, he wished to strike a decisive blow. Already Gaston’s energy had dazzled the Italians, and the veteran general, Trivulzio, said with a smile, “Fortune is like a woman, who favors the young and slights the old”. Gaston prepared to tempt fortune once more. From Brescia he returned to Milan to gather his troops, who numbered 7000 cavalry and 17,000 infantry—Germans, French, and Italians. With these he advanced into the Romagna, determined to force a battle; a decisive victory might end the war, might prevent Maximilian from joining the league, check Henry VIII’s projected invasion of Normandy and leave the Neapolitan kingdom an easy prey

Cardona on his side did not wish to fight. His forces were somewhat smaller, 6000 cavalry and 16,000 of infantry, of whom the majority were Spaniards; but the fame of the Spanish infantry was great, and their fighting qualities might be held to make up for the slight inferiority of numbers. But the same reasons which made Gaston de Foix desire a battle, made Cardona wish to avoid one; Spain had everything to win by delay, while only a victory could save France from a powerful combination against her. As the French army advanced to Ravenna, Cardona withdrew to Faenza. Gaston de Foix on April 9 attacked Ravenna unsuccessfully; but it was clear that he would soon take it if it were not relieved. Cardona dared not abandon its garrison, and was reluctantly compelled to return. On April 11—it was Easter Day—the two armies met on the marshy plain between Ravenna and the sea. There was nothing in the ground to allow of tactics on either side; the day was decided not by strategy but by hard fighting. On the side of the French was conspicuous the stalwart form of Cardinal Sanseverino, clad in full armor and eager for the fight; the papal legate, Cardinal Medici, was present in the rear of the army of the League, but wearing the garments of his office. The battle began with a heavy discharge of artillery on both sides; but the artillery of Ferrara was skillfully posted so as to play on the flank of the army of the League. The Spanish infantry lay flat upon the ground and escaped, while the Italian cavalry fell thick before the destructive fire. Fabrizio Colonna urged an immediate charge, but the Spanish general wished to act on the defensive. At last Fabrizio could endure no longer. “Shall we all be destroyed for nothing?”, he exclaimed, and dashed upon the foe. The Spaniards were bound to follow, and the fight raged along the banks of the Ronco. The cavalry of the League were the first to flee, and with them fled the Spanish general, Cardona. The Italian infantry were hard pressed by the Gascons, and were finally routed by an attack of the French cavalry under Ivo d'Allegre, who lost his life in the charge. The Spanish infantry still held their ground and hewed their way into the middle of the opposing square of German mercenaries who fought for France. Gaston de Foix, seeing the cavalry of the League in flight, ordered a body of horse to charge the Spaniards, who were driven backwards by the shock. Still they preserved their ranks unbroken, and protecting one flank by the river, prepared to retreat still fighting and in good order. Gaston de Foix burned to make his victory complete, and led his cavalry to drive the Spaniards into the river. His horse was killed and he fell to the ground; the Spaniards rushed upon him, and heedless of a cry, “He is our general, the brother of your queen”, slew him where he lay. There was no longer any opposition to their flight, and they retired in safety

Rarely was a more bloody battle fought. Of the 45,000 men engaged, between 10,000 and 12,000 lay dead upon the field. The loss of generals was especially great on the French side, while the generals of the League showed their discretion by a speedy flight. Cardona never drew rein till he reached Ancona; the routed soldiers made their way to Cesena and then dispersed. Cardinal Medici was swept away by the crowd of fugitives, was made prisoner and handed over to his old friend Cardinal Sanseverino, who treated him with great respect.

The victors were left paralyzed by the death of Gaston de Foix, Lautrec, and Ivo d'Allegre. They sacked Ravenna, and under the leadership of La Palisse occupied the cities of the Romagna; then they paused, uncertain what to do. Had Gaston de Foix been left alive he would have pressed on to Rome and Naples, would have reduced the Pope to terms and annihilated the Spanish power in Italy; but Gaston was laid in his grave amidst the tears of his army.

The recumbent statue of the young warrior, a remnant of his broken tomb, still witnesses to the charm which he exercised as the type of all that was noblest and most beautiful in the chivalry of the Renaissance.

On April 14 a trembling fugitive brought to Rome the news of the battle of Ravenna. The Cardinals weakness gave themselves up as lost, and with tears besought the Pope to make peace with France on such terms as he could. Pompeo Colonna and many of the Orsini gathered troops and prepared to join the French army in its expected march on Rome, and Julius II thought of flight as the sole means to escape humiliation. But next day arrived Giulio de' Medici, cousin of the captive Cardinal, who had gained permission to send a messenger to the Pope. Cardinal Medici had seen enough to know that the French had suffered almost as severely as the League; their army was demoralized; their counsels were divided. Cardinal Sanseverino disputed with La Palisse the office of General-in-chief; the Duke of Ferrara withdrew into his own territory; there was no danger of an immediate blow, as La Palisse had sent to Louis XII for further instructions, for he hesitated to march against Rome for fear of leaving Milan exposed to an attack of the Swiss. Julius II's spirits revived at this intelligence; he saw that if he could escape immediate danger he still had hopes. The increase of the power of France by the victory of Ravenna would bind the League more closely together. He only needed time to direct a stronger force against the French; and to gain time he again entered into negotiations with Louis XII, while he strained every nerve to gather money and reorganize his broken army. Again Louis XII weakly listened to the Pope, and allowed the opportunity won by the valor of Gaston de Foix to be aimlessly wasted.

The victory of Ravenna was also the triumph of the Council of Milan. In proportion as the French arms were successful, the boldness of the Council increased. On March 24 the Pope was accused of contumacy for not sending legates to the Council or listening to its admonitions; the Council which he had summoned to the Lateran was declared null, and he was admonished to withdraw all proceedings against the Council of Milan. On April 19, after the news of the battle had reached Milan, an accusation for contumacy was formally presented against Julius II. On April 21 he was cited to appear, and when no one was present to answer on his behalf he was declared contumacious and was suspended from his office. These were brave words; but the Council could not flatter itself that its decrees were of much value. Cardinal Carvajal was the object of popular ridicule in the streets, while the captive Cardinal Medici was welcomed with every token of respect. The people thronged round him and begged his blessing: many went to him for absolution for having been compelled to hold intercourse with the excommunicated Cardinals.

Julius II was busily engaged in preparing for war, and in bribing or flattering the Roman barons into quietness. Still he did not disregard the necessity of overthrowing the ecclesiastical opposition; he was anxious to set his Council of the Lateran against the schismatics at Milan. He was urgent in gathering members and in arranging for an imposing opening ceremony; and every care was taken that the Council of Milan should be entirely thrown into the shade. Eight Cardinals were appointed a commission to make necessary preparations, and regulate the Curia so that it should present an orderly appearance befitting the decorum of the papal office. The Master of the Ceremonies, Paris de Grassis, was bidden to search the records of the Council of Florence, and submit for due decision any obscure parts of ceremonial. The disturbed state of Italy after the battle of Ravenna rendered impossible the meeting of the Council on April 19, as had been originally fixed; but on May 3 Rome was so far quiet as to permit its assembling.

In the evening of May 2 Julius II was carried in his litter to the Lateran Palace. Before him rode opening armed troops of the Knights of Malta, who were guardians of the Pope and of the Council; behind him came fifteen Cardinals, and the members of the Council, twelve Patriarchs, ten Archbishops, fifty-seven Bishops, two Abbots, and three Generals of monastic orders, almost all Italians; a strong body of soldiers brought up the rear, and during the Council kept watch in the neighborhood to prevent a rising in the interest of France. An immense crowd thronged to witness the splendid ceremony with which the Council was opened on May 3. The sermon of the learned General of the Augustinians, Egidius of Viterbo, produced a profound impression on his hearers, and was long regarded as a masterpiece of oratory. In turns men marveled at his eloquence and were moved to tears by his passionate earnestness. He began by saying that he had long preached throughout Italy of the evils of the time and the need of reform; at length he saw the long-expected work begin; the winter was past, the summer was at hand; the light of the Council would again warm and make fertile the field of the Church. Distress might for a time wax great, but Jesus said, “A little time and ye shall see Me”. All the troubles of the Church in past times had been healed by Councils; this Council had its work to do, to restore the authority and order of the Church. Nine years had Julius II sat on the papal throne; he had done great things in Rome, he had warred for the recovery of the lands of the Church. Two things remained to do: to summon a Council, and lead Europe against the Turk.

All good men longed to see the Church reformed by a Council and the Turks expelled from Europe. Not by violence, in days of old, but by deeds of piety had the Church won Europe, Asia, and Africa; she lost Asia and Africa because she exchanged the golden panoply of an ardent spirit for the iron arms of Ajax in his fury. Unless true holiness of life were restored by the Council, religion would be lost and the commonwealth of Christendom would be undone. When was life more effeminate? When was sin less bridled? When was religion less esteemed? When was schism more dangerous? When was bloodshed more rife? When had dawned a more disastrous Easter Day than that which saw the slaughter on the field of Ravenna? All these things were warnings from on high; for the facts of the world's history were the voices of God, He ended by an earnest prayer for the purification of Christendom, the expulsion of the Turks, the revival of Christian love, and the restoration of the Church to her ancient purity.

They were noble words and finely spoken, and they expressed the opinions of a large party within the Church; but they had little connection with possibilities, and arraigned the conduct of Julius II while they professed to support him. Julius II deplored the battle of Ravenna because its issue had gone against himself; he was more concerned for the recovery of Bologna than of the Holy Land, and was more at his ease in the camp than in the Council. However, he curbed his natural restlessness and sat through the long ceremonial with a patience that astonished those who knew his ordinary ways. But he had forgotten to prepare a speech in which to state the business of the Council, and further procedure was put off till the first session on May 10; even then Julius II could only stammer through a few sentences, in which he said that it was needless to state the reasons for summoning the Council, as they were well known. At the second session, on May 17, the real business of the Council was done, by a decree which declared the proceedings of the Council of Pisa to be null and void and its adherents to be schismatics. The Council was then prorogued till November 3; it had served its immediate purpose of showing the strength of the Pope's ecclesiastical position, and of answering the schismatics at Milan.

In fact, Julius II had no time for Councils. On the same day on which this session was held he published anew the Holy League, which had now received the adhesion of Maximilian; and Rome blazed with bonfires in honor of this new triumph of the Pope. But Leagues were useless without soldiers, and Julius II knew that he again had forces in the field. He had brought about an agreement between Maximilian and the Venetians, and Venice had raised money to hire another army of the Swiss; Maximilian's consequent entrance into the League gave the Swiss an easy access into North Italy through the Tyrol. On May 25 the Swiss, who had mustered at Trent, descended to Verona; and the French general, La Palisse, who had wasted his time in the Romagna, was suddenly recalled to the defence of Milan. The Swiss were joined by the Venetians, and their force was formidable; but a battle was made impossible by the publication of an order from Maximilian bidding the German mercenaries in the French army return home under pain of death. The greater part of the veterans who had won the battle of Ravenna obeyed, and La Palisse was unable to resist; he withdrew to Pavia, where he was followed by Trivulzio, who had no hope of holding Milan. The remnants of the French army retired across the Alps, and the French rule in North Italy disappeared with them. Even Genoa shook off the yoke of France and welcomed Giano Fregoso as its Doge.

The withdrawal of the French troops from Milan necessarily meant the suppression of the Council. The schismatic Cardinals retired to France with the intention of continuing their proceedings at Lyons; and in their train was the captive Cardinal Medici, who had the good fortune to escape on the way. When he reached Bassignana, on the bank of the Po, he counterfeited illness and asked to be allowed to rest for the night. Meanwhile his friends assembled secretly and roused the neighborhood in his behalf; were the Italians, they asked, going to allow the French to carry away a Cardinal as their prisoner? Next day, when half the French escort had crossed the river, a sudden rush was made upon those who were left behind. In the tumult Cardinal Medici was rescued, and after hiding for a few days made his way to Mantua, where he was safe from pursuit.

The Pope was not slow to reap the fruits of the French withdrawal from the Romagna. He had managed to gather together some forces, and he did not scruple to use for his own ends the lucky results of the treacherous conduct of the Duke of Urbino. Still sulking under the Pope's displeasure at the murder of Cardinal Alidosi, the Pope's nephew had refused to march with his forces to join the army of the League, and after the battle of Ravenna he was prepared to make common cause with the French; but the inactivity of La Palisse gave him no opportunity, and when the fortunes of France were desperate, the Duke of Urbino was again ready to join the winning side. Julius II readily forgave a want of zeal which events had proved to be true discretion. He made the Duke of Urbino general of his forces, with orders to march at once against Bologna. The Bentivogli fled, and the city opened its gates to receive again a papal legate as its governor, on June 13.

From Bologna the papal forces proceeded to Parma and Piacenza; but Ferrara was still the great object of the desire of Julius II. It was evident to Duke Alfonso that he could not hold out without allies against the force which was now directed against him. He resolved to throw himself on the Pope's magnanimity and seek a personal interview. Fabrizio Colonna, who had been captured in the battle of Ravenna, was in Duke Alfonso's hands. Alfonso earned his gratitude by refusing to give him up to Louis XII, who wished him to be sent as a prisoner to France. He released him without ransom, and by the mediation of the Duke of Mantua and the Spanish king, obtained from the Pope a safe-conduct to Rome, for the purpose of reconciling himself with the Pope and obtaining absolution from his excommunication. On July 4 he entered Rome with Fabrizio Colonna, attended by a troop of horse. Julius II received him kindly; he had no wish to humble his enemies, but only aimed at reducing them; he did not demand from Alfonso a public humiliation, but gave him absolution privately in the Vatican without the ceremony of striking him with a rod. But he said to the Venetian envoy, “I wish to deprive him of Ferrara; I have given him a safe-conduct for his person, not for his state”. After Alfonso’s personal reconciliation came the discussion of a lasting peace. The negotiations were entrusted to a commission of six Cardinals; but it soon became obvious that the Pope would be satisfied with nothing but the immediate surrender of Ferrara. He offered to indemnify Alfonso with the principality of Asti, and while the matter was under discussion his troops under the Duke of Urbino pressed the siege of Reggio. He raked up old charges against Alfonso and declared that they rendered his safe-conduct invalid. He threatened imprisonment and death, hoping to terrify him into submission; but Alfonso was not cowed, and steadily argued against the Pope's charges and refused his terms. Julius II persisted in his policy of intimidation, angrily refused him permission to leave Rome, and ordered the guards at the gates to be increased. When Fabrizio Colonna heard this he felt his own honor to be at stake. After vainly pleading with the Pope, he took the matter into his own hands. Taking a retinue sufficient to overawe the guard at the Lateran Gate he escorted Alfonso to Marino, where he remained in safety till he could reach the sea and make his way back to Ferrara, which his brother, Cardinal Ippolito, still held against the papal forces.

The conduct of Julius II towards the Duke of Ferrara excited general alarm. Ferdinand of Spain expressed his disapproval, and praised the action of Fabrizio Colonna. “If”, said he, “the Pope meddles with Fabrizio or Prospero Colonna for what they have done, I will make him understand that they are my soldiers, and that I will not fail to protect them. As to Ferrara, let the Church recover its tribute and its jurisdiction; but I do not wish to see the Duke of Ferrara robbed of his lands. The Pope should be satisfied with the recovery of Bologna. No power in Italy should help him to take Ferrara and make of the Duke of Urbino a second Cesare Borgia. The Pope has warred against France in behalf of the liberty of Italy; Italy must not have another tyrant, nor must the Pope govern it at his will”.

Guicciardini, who was the Florentine ambassador at the Spanish court, saw that there were great dangers in the political condition of Italy. The downfall of the French power had been too rapid and too complete; the work of reorganization was fraught with difficulty; there were too many conflicting interests, and the balance of power was hard to establish. “Italy is already made into a new world”, wrote Guicciardini, “and it might easily happen that through the question of Ferrara it was made into another. The Pope demands too much; and when the League begins to fall in pieces, things may go in a strange fashion. But all will be to the loss of Italy, which is in a worse way than ever, if the Italians are not united, which will be difficult”.

Julius II soon began to weary of his alliance with Spain, and said that he hated the Spaniards as much as he had hated the French. He again talked of driving the foreigner out of Italy, and dreamed of ridding himself of Spain by means of the arms of the Swiss. His audacity knew no bounds; he believed in endless possibilities of skillful combinations, by means of which each power in turn was to have its own way for a little time as a reward for helping the Papacy. In the conflicts which he hoped to foment all in succession were to be ousted, while meanwhile the Papacy was steadily to gain, till in the end it would be strong enough to overcome its last ally, and then would bear undisputed sway in Italy. The policy of Julius II did not differ from that of Cesare Borgia which won the admiration of Machiavelli. But Cesare Borgia, as he advanced, would have consolidated his dominions and trained an Italian army; Julius II could neither weld together his conquests nor rekindle into patriotism the local feeling which he destroyed. Cesare Borgia governed as well as conquered the Romagna; Julius II had no capacity for organizing, and the papal government by Cardinal-legates could never awaken a national feeling, which alone could make Italy strong. Julius II was no far-sighted statesman; his aims were dictated by the opportunities of the moment, and his patriotism throughout his career was an afterthought. He sought the help of the stranger to crush his Italian foes, and indulged in the vain hope that at his will he could give new life to Italy, which he had destroyed.

However much Julius II might wish to treat the Spaniards as he had treated the French, he still had work for them to do. The spoils of France must be divided, and the Pope and his allies assembled to decide the share of each. In August their representatives met at Mantua for discussion. Maximilian and Ferdinand wished to obtain the duchy of Milan for their grandson Charles, son of the Archduke Philip and Juana of Spain, who was to marry Renée of France, the second daughter of Louis XII, and so unite the conflicting claims; Julius II was opposed to the establishment of a foreign power in North Italy, and favored the restoration of the Sforza family. The son of Ludovico II Moro, Massimiliano Sforza, had been brought up at the court of Maximilian. He was now some thirty years old, and showed no marked capacity for affairs. His feeble character made him acceptable to the Swiss, who wished for a neighbor who would be dependent on them for help, and would be willing to pay for their good offices. The Venetians hoped that they might in time make conquests at the expense of an uncertain ruler. The settlement of the question lay with the Swiss, who were the real masters of Milan; and through their decision the restoration of Massimiliano Sforza as Duke of Milan was accepted by the allies. The Swiss took care that they were well paid for their past and future help; and Julius II demanded the towns of Parma and Piacenza, which he claimed for the Church on the ground of the bequest of the Countess Matilda of Tuscany, who had died in 1115, leaving all her lands to S. Peter.

Another question engaged the attention of the confederates at Mantua—the political position of Florence. Florence had never renounced its alliance with France, and during the last war had maintained an attitude of benevolent neutrality. The Gonfaloniere, Piero Soderini, was an upright man; but was not a strong statesman. The growing influence of Cardinal Medici encouraged the Medicean faction, so that Florence was distracted; and Soderini was not the man to heal its breaches. After the retreat of the French army from Italy, Julius II sent orders to the Archbishop of Florence to make processions and hold thanksgiving services for the deliverance of Italy. The government did not resent this needless insult, and the citizens looked on with indifference; but a studied affectation of indifference was not the way to meet approaching danger, or to avert the hostility of a man like Julius II. Soon afterwards the Pope sent Cardinal Pucci with a demand that the Gonfaloniere should lay down his office, that the exiles should be restored, and that Florence should enter the Holy League. Soderini gave a dignified refusal; but the time was past when words without deeds could avail. The papal project of restoring the Medici to Florence, and so separating the Republic from the French alliance, was secretly agreed to by the Congress of Mantua. The Florentine ambassador at the Congress, Giovan Vittorio Soderini, was carefully kept in the dark, and the Florentines were on all sides deluded into the belief that the divergent interests of the allies gave them practical security. Ferdinand of Spain said to Guicciardini that the Pope wished to treat Spain as he had treated France, and that Florence in the hands of the Medici would only give the Pope more power in Italy: Julius II told Cardinal Soderini that he would not see the influence of Spain increased, and that he did not wish to see Florence attacked by Spanish troops. While Florence hugged herself in false security, her doom was being sealed at Mantua, and she made no preparations to avert the danger.

On August 21 the Spanish viceroy, Raimondo de Cardona, entered Tuscany with 8000 infantry, 500 men-at-arms, and 600 light horse. It was not a formidable army for the reduction of a powerful state; and Florence, at the advice of Machiavelli, had reorganized its old force of citizen militia, and had 30,000 men whom she could set in the field. But by the side of the Spanish general rode Cardinal Medici and his brother Giuliano, who represented a powerful faction in Florence. The Florentines were divided in opinion; their successes since the expulsion of the Medici had not been striking; the downfall of the French power left them isolated in Italy, and many thought that their present government was clearly untenable and that its fall was only a question of time. When the demands of the viceroy for the abolition of the power of the Gonfaloniere and the restoration of the Medici were brought to Florence, Soderini called the Great Council together. He asked them to decide if they wished for the Medici; if so, he was ready at once to retire. The unanimous answer was given: “We wish for you, and not the Medici”. Many brave words were spoken, and troops were sent to hold Prato against the advance of the Spaniards.

The citizen forces of Machiavelli were not prepared for the terrible earnestness with which the Spaniards made war, and the peasants were terrified by the wholesale slaughter which followed any attempt at resistance. The Spaniards, however, found great difficulty in obtaining supplies, since the Florentine troops cut off their communications with Bologna. Raimondo de Cardona cared little for the restoration of the Medici, and was willing to withdraw from the Florentine territory if his troops were supplied with food. In an evil hour for Florence the proposal was rejected, and Cardona led his starving troops to Prato, and told them that within its walls were food and plunder. The Spaniards felt that they were fighting for their lives, and continued the assault with terrible earnestness till a breach was made in the wall; it was useless for the garrison to try and keep out the famished horde; on August 29 Prato was stormed and sacked. No records in history are more horrible than those that tell of the fiendish cruelty, the brutal lust, the insatiable thirst for gold, of the Spanish soldiers. It is said that 5000 of the inhabitants of Prato were slain; those who survived were tortured, mutilated, and dishonored. We may well believe the story that Pope Leo X was haunted on his deathbed by the remembrance of the horrors wherewith the greatness of the Medicean family was again established.

Men trembled in Florence at this awful news. Cardona triumphant offered them the choice of war or the Medici; and Soderini shrank from exposing Florence to the fate of Prato. While he hesitated a band of four young men, who were of the party of the Medici, forced their way into the Palazzo, and bade him lay down his office. Soderini had not the soul of a hero, and had already begun to despair; he asked that his life should be spared, and that he might quit Florence. Without any formal deposition, without any popular rising against him, without waiting to strike a blow for his country, he quitted Florence, and made his way to Siena. It is no wonder that Machiavelli sentenced the silly soul of Piero Soderini to the limbo of infants; it is no wonder that a Republic with so faint­hearted a leader had no hopes of life.

The downfall of Florence was due to the feeling of political helplessness which had been growing in Italy in view of the rapid changes which baffled all attempts at calculation. The old idea of liberty had ceased to have any definite meaning, and political thinkers asked themselves vainly, “Where is freedom to be found?”. In the absence of any answer, they fell back upon incredulity; they abandoned any search for a principle on which to found political life, and accepted party struggles as rough scrambles for the sweets of power. The Florentine Francesco Vettori frankly expresses the sentiments on which he acted. “The changes made by the Medici”, he says, “may be called tyrannical. It is true that in Plato’s Republic and in Thomas More’s Utopia there are examples of governments which are not tyrannical; but all the republics and states of which I have read in history or which I have seen smack of tyranny. We may say that all governments are tyrannical. In the case of Florence the city is populous; many citizens wish to share in its advantages, and the good things to be distributed are few. One party is driven to govern and enjoy honors and advantages; the other must look on and criticise the game". Such were the cynical considerations whereby Florence was induced to submit to the imposition of its former yoke.

Next day, September 1, Giuliano de' Medici entered Florence and the Palleschi, as the partisans of the Medici were called, gathered round him. A Gonfaloniere was elected for a year, and the old government by means of the consiglio grande was still retained. The Palleschi wished for a more thorough change; they found Giuliano too gentle for their leader, and submitted their views to Cardinal Giovanni. He entered Florence in state accompanied by the viceroy, and by his advice the Palleschi, on September 16, took possession of the Palazzo and remodeled the constitution of Florence. Theconsiglio grande was abolished; the Gonfaloniere’s tenure of office was restricted to two months; the franchise was confined to men who could be trusted: in short the republican reforms of 1494 were swept away and Florence was brought back to the condition in which it had been under Lorenzo.

The impetuosity of Julius II carried away his judgment in permitting the restoration of the Medici to Florence by Spanish arms. He was pursuing an old design which altered circumstances had made dangerous rather than useful to his ends. So long as the French power was strong in Italy, the Pope had an interest in trying to separate Florence from its alliance with France, and the overthrow of the republican government by means of the Medici was the easiest course to pursue. When the French power had fallen the Republic of Florence was left isolated and feeble. It would have been wise policy for the Pope to have left Florence in this condition of weakness. The restoration of the Medici by Spanish help reproduced the state of things which Julius II had been striving to overthrow. Florence allied to Spain was just as dangerous to the Papacy as Florence allied to France; and the Pope, who aimed at driving the foreigner out of Italy, was ill-advised in helping the dominant foreign power to win an ally such as Florence. Florence under Soderini would have been powerless; Florence under the Medici was sure to be an obstacle in the way of the Pope's plans. Julius II did not foresee the extent of the disaster which he wrought for the Papacy. He could not foresee that the Medici would weave the fortunes of their house with the fortunes of the Papacy, and would inflict on both the direst disaster. But he did not use such foresight as he possessed, and was bent on satisfying an old grudge, heedless of all else; he could not forgive Soderini for harboring the schismatics at Pisa. Even when Soderini had fallen, Julius II strove to get him into his power, and Soderini only escaped from the Pope’s anger by fleeing to Ragusa.

Julius II looked round with satisfaction on the results achieved by the Holy League. The French were driven from Italy and were menaced by the forces of England and Spain; Ferdinand's army occupied Navarre; the English forces threatened Guienne and the English fleet ravaged the Breton coast. France was hard pressed on every side and had no ally save Scotland; the Pope had nothing to fear from a revival of French influence in Italy. Moreover Julius II had won Parma and Piacenza for the Holy See. He had not, it is true, succeeded in winning Ferrara; but Modena and Reggio were in the hands of his troops.

There were other members of the League who were not so well satisfied. Maximilian and the Venetians could not agree about the division of the territories won to the French. Julius II desired above all things to establish his authority beyond dispute by the splendor of his Council at the Lateran, whose sessions had been suspended during this interval of war. For this purpose he needed the accession of the Emperor: when that was gained, France with its schismatical Cardinals at Lyons would be as completely isolated in ecclesiastical as it was in temporal affairs. Again Julius II tried to win over Maximilian's adviser, the powerful Bishop of Gurk, of whom it was currently said, “Gurk is not the chief bishop in the Emperor’s court; but the chief king who dances attendance on Gurk is the Emperor”. Gurk came to Rome to confer with the Pope on November 5, and was received with all the honor shown to sovereigns. The Venetians soon found that Julius II was entirely on the Emperor's side. He was accustomed by this time to use his allies solely for his own purposes, and had no scruple in ordering them to submit to his dictation. Venice was bidden to make peace with Maximilian on the terms which he offered; they were to give up Verona and Vicenza, and hold Padua and Treviso as fiefs of the Empire subject to an annual payment. The Venetian envoys in Rome refused to accept these terms, whereon the Pope in anger cried out, “If you will not take them, we will all go against you”. He was ready to renew the League of Cambrai against Venice, and on November 19 signed an accord with the Emperor which was published on November 25. After this he hastened to enjoy his triumph. On December 3 was held the third session of the Lateran Council, in which the Bishop of Gurk declared the adhesion of the Emperor to the Council, pronounced in his name all the proceedings of the Council of Pisa null and void, and further asserted that the Emperor had given it no mandate. France was laid under an interdict for harbouring schismatics; and in the fourth session, held on December 10, proposals were made for the formal abolition of the Pragmatic Sanction of France, but the question was deferred for a time.

The Pope enjoyed his ecclesiastical triumph, but he paid a great price for it. It is the most remarkable feature in the policy of Julius II that he spared no pain to extinguish the beginnings of a schism. It might have been expected that the Pope, immersed in political schemes, would have disregarded the intrigues of a few discontented Cardinals or would have satisfied himself with defeating them on political grounds. But Julius II seems to have felt this ecclesiastical revolt more deeply than any interruption of his temporal plans, and never laid aside his efforts to establish his ecclesiastical authority in undisputed grandeur. For this purpose he curbed his fiery disposition; he grew cautious and patient; he made unexpected sacrifices. The adhesion of Maximilian to the Lateran Council was no great matter in itself: yet Julius II was determined to have it, though Ferdinand of Spain pointed out the danger of alienating the Venetians, who would be driven to ally themselves with France and so bring back French influence into Italy.

Maximilian urged the excommunication of Venice, but Julius II shrank from pressing Venice too hardly; he threatened, but did not excommunicate. Venice was anxious to avoid a rupture, and declared its adhesion to the Lateran Council. One motive of temporal policy led Julius II to unite with the Emperor. He was above all things desirous of the conquest of Ferrara, and urged the Emperor to recall the German mercenaries who were in the service of Duke Alfonso. He hoped that Alfonso's army would thereby fade away like the army of La Palisse. But no one was willing to further the Pope's schemes: Maximilian refused to move; the Spanish forces abode at Milan and preferred to enjoy themselves in the festivities which followed on the restoration of Duke Massimiliano Sforza. Julius II saw with displeasure that operations against Ferrara were suspended for the winter months, that he had little to hope from his allies, and that the negotiations between Venice and France threatened new dangers for the future. The only success which the Pope could reckon was the occupation of Pesaro by the Duke of Urbino in the end of October.