SIXTUS THE FIFTH
The most remarkable of Popes--State of Rome under Gregory
XIII--Murders, thefts and robberies openly perpetrated in the
streets--Brigandage rife up to the very gates of the city--Sixtus V
wins the election--Seizes the reins of government with masterful
hands--Sternly vindicates the law by the summary execution of
offenders--Earliest efforts directed against brigandage--Curbs the
insolent daring of robbers--Represses every kind of crime--The
story of Vittoria Accoramboni--Boons conferred by Sixtus upon
Rome--His accumulation of great wealth--St. Angelo his
Treasury--His onerous taxation resented by the people, who lampoon
him continually--Pasquinades.
A strong government was now to follow one of the weakest. Gregory XIII
was succeeded by Sixtus V, the most remarkable pope who ever sat upon
the papal throne, famous in history for his romantic rise to power, and
for the austere manner in which he exercised it. Gregory, although
learned in the law, was a feeble, timid ruler whose authority was
scouted, and the wildest disorder prevailed in the city. The worst
crimes were committed with impunity, and the period became a by-word
with coming generations. The expression “in the time of Gregory” was
held to be the equivalent of lawlessness and unrestrained violence.
During his papacy, assassination and brigandage incessantly vexed
society; perpetual conflicts were fought in the streets between the
retainers of powerful families. Cardinals and great ecclesiastics were
attacked when they drove out in their carriages, were seized and
prevented from returning to their own houses, and obliged to seek the
protection of armed escorts. On one occasion the police, having arrested
a criminal belonging to the Orsini faction, were forced by the adherents
of three great families to surrender their prisoner. The fight lasted
for three days, during which the streets were strewn with dead and
wounded, the shops were closed and the turmoil extended over the whole
city. The matter was settled at last by the sacrifice of the Bargello,
or chief police officer, who was handed over to the Orsini and
immediately put to death.
Outside Rome still greater disorder reigned. Bandits infested the
Campagna and the neighbouring provinces. They were led by the highest
nobles, who shared their plunder and in return gave them protection and
support. Some of the most reckless and unprincipled will be described
more particularly when dealing with the government of Sixtus V. The
election of this resolute and capable pontiff has been called an
accident and it certainly came as a surprise, but the result was mainly
due to his consummate cleverness in playing a part which deceived
everyone and gained him a preponderance of votes. There were many
conflicting parties in the
[Illustration: _Cardinal Felice Peretti, Afterward Pope Sixtus V_
Though of humble origin, the most remarkable pope who ever ruled in
Rome. Famous in history for his romantic rise to power and for the
austere manner in which he exercised it in the suppression of
brigandage and crime. He was a favourite subject for pasquinades on
account of his habit of hoarding money.
]
conclave, all bitterly jealous of each other, and this Cardinal
Montalto, as he was commonly called, although his real name was Felice
Peretti, secured general support because no one was afraid of him or
thought he had the smallest chance of success. For some years past,
Montalto had posed as an imbecile, afflicted prematurely with all the
infirmities of age. He was generally despised by the whole college of
cardinals as a foolish old dotard, helpless and incapable of good or
ill, and was held up to common ridicule by the nickname given him of the
“ass of La Marca,” referring to his native province. His conduct and
demeanour for years past had, no doubt, encouraged the opinion conceived
of him. Pope Gregory, with whom he had been associated in Spain, when
Gregory went there as legate, had treated him with indignity and
contempt, had withdrawn his pension and withheld all preferment.
Montalto, with marked meekness and humility, accepted his position; he
effaced himself as much as possible, seldom if ever attending a
consistory or congregation; he held aloof from all public transactions
and never mixed himself in any of the intrigues always active in the
papal court. He resided in a small house he had bought in Rome, among
the vineyards near S. Maria Maggiore and occupied himself wholly with
good works.
Let me digress for one moment to relate how this modest and unpretending
monk (for he belonged to the Franciscan order), came to be a cardinal
and a prince of the church. He was born in the village of Grottamarina
in the province of La Marca D’Ancona and was keeping pigs at the age of
nine, when a priest who had lost his way sought his guidance to the town
of Ascoli, where he was going to preach. The child beguiled the way with
many shrewd remarks and pertinent questions and the priest charmed with
his intelligence, took him by the hand, and at once decided to educate
him. Little Felix made such surprising progress that he was accepted as
a novice in the Franciscan order at the early age of fourteen. He rose
rapidly in the Church, and having the gift of eloquence, became a
learned theologian, a popular preacher, and an able disputant, so that
he was held in general esteem. One bishop told him that if he were pope,
he would soon give Felix a cardinal’s hat. Very liberal and tempting
proposals were made to him to remain in Spain when he went there with
Gregory, but his heart clung to Rome, to which he returned, when he was
made general of the Franciscan order, a bishop and later a cardinal. He
had also the direction of the papal councils and it may be noted that
the bull of excommunication fulminated against Queen Elizabeth of
England was drawn up by him.
“It was about this time,” says one of his biographers, “that he secretly
began to indulge ambitious dreams and looked to succeed some day to the
papacy.” He became humble, patient and affable, artfully concealing the
natural impetuosity of his temper and comporting himself with extreme
gentleness and moderation toward all. Nevertheless he was generally
despised and overlooked, but he showed no disappointment or resentment
and quietly bided his time. His opportunity came at the death of Gregory
XIII when the conclave assembled to choose his successor. There were
several candidates, each with nicely balanced claims. No one party was
powerful enough to win the day for its nominee, and it seemed to one and
all that the best plan would be to favour the election of some aged
invalid who would speedily make way for another election. Montalto was
just the person, and when the three most influential cardinals came to
tell him of their choice, he was seized with such a violent fit of
coughing that they feared he would expire on the spot. He recovered
himself so far as to assure them that his reign would not last many
days, that he breathed with difficulty and that his strength was quite
unequal to the weighty cares of office. He went further, and would not
give his consent to wear the tiara unless they promised to assist him
with their counsels, saying: “If you are resolved to make me pope, you
will really be placing yourselves upon the throne; I shall be content
with the bare title, let them call me pope and you are welcome to the
power and authority.”
When his point was gained and his election assured, he threw off the
mask he had worn for fourteen years or more and appeared in his true
colours. It was a complete transformation. He no longer leaned
painfully on his crutches, but held himself erect, gave up coughing, and
spoke with a strong and authoritative voice; his manner was completely
changed, his humility was gone; he ceased to be quiet and submissive,
and treated everyone with marked haughtiness, more especially those who
had helped him to the papal throne, and ignoring their reminders, boldly
declared he meant to rule alone; that with God’s assistance he felt
strong enough to insure a good government. The people now viewed with
astonishment the seemingly worn-out old man who had suddenly developed
so much vigour and determination. His strongly lined face, his firm
mouth, his small, but brilliant brown eyes, were those of a masterful
man, born to command. Many emotions played upon his countenance; at one
time kindliness, even tenderness, and again his features hardened into
severity. His complexion was swarthy, his cheeks high coloured, his
cheek bones prominent; he wore his beard full and bushy--it was auburn
in colour fast turning into gray; his whole person was impressive,
imposing rather than majestic; there was nothing regal in his manner,
but it was plainly evident that he was master.
Pope Sixtus had barely ascended the throne of St. Peter when it was felt
that the reins of power were grasped by powerful hands. He made it clear
at once that he was bent upon securing peace and good order in his
dominions. The day after his election, he summoned the conservators of
the city to his presence and sternly bade them to see that justice was
firmly administered. In an edict published before his coronation, he
forbade the carrying of fire arms and visited the breach of this
injunction with the extreme penalty of the law. Four young brothers were
taken with arquebuses in their hands, tried, convicted and sentenced to
death. As the coronation procession filed across the bridge of St.
Angelo, it met the ghastly spectacle of these four corpses swinging in
the air. It had been the custom on coronation day to throw open the
prison gates and make a general gaol delivery. But when the governor of
St. Angelo came to Sixtus seeking the usual permission, he was angrily
rebuked and reminded that it was no affair of his, in the following
words: “Pardons do not come within your scope; acts of grace are my
prerogative and now that I find my predecessor has left the judges idle
for thirteen years, I intend to make up for his neglect. No one shall be
released except by process of law. Let all prisoners be brought to
speedy trial so that the prisons may be emptied of their present
occupants and room made for others. I will not bare the sword in vain,
but will execute judgment upon all wrong doers.” He gave orders then
that four of the most notorious offenders in St. Angelo should be tried
and, if found guilty, publicly executed, two by the axe and two by the
halter, on the occasion of his coronation. The college of cardinals
vainly protested against this bloodthirsty proceeding, but the pope was
inexorable.
Another incident may be quoted illustrating this pope’s determined
vindication of the penal law. One day when the streets were crowded to
see the new pope as he passed, one of the Swiss guard, in clearing the
road, unfortunately struck a Spanish gentleman who was a stranger in
Rome. A little later this same soldier was on his knees before the altar
in St. Peter’s, when the Spaniard saw him and seizing a pilgrim’s staff
that lay at hand, struck the soldier so violent a blow on the head that
he was killed immediately. The Spaniard took refuge in the Spanish
ambassador’s house. News of the murder reached the pope’s ears and
stirred him to take vigorous measures against the culprit. The governor
of the city would have paused to enquire into the affair before taking
action, but Sixtus would brook no delay; condign punishment must be
meted out promptly. The governor pleaded that as the Spaniard was under
the momentary protection of his ambassador, more circumspection should
be shown. But the pope answered furiously, “This is no time for forms
and ceremonies. I will have that Spaniard hanged before I sit down to
dinner, and I shall dine early to-day.”
Sixtus V was no doubt terribly in earnest and Rome trembled. He was
determined to establish order and terrify all who had hitherto
tyrannised over quiet and well disposed people. He insisted that the
police should take cognisance of all offences, and to make sure that the
judges would do their duty, removed all of lenient disposition from the
bench and replaced them by men of sterner stuff, not afraid to use the
powers entrusted to them. His chief efforts were directed against
brigandage, which had long been the scourge of the papal states. It was
calculated that during the later years of Gregory’s reign, the total
number of bandits in active prosecution of their evil trade varied from
12,000 to 27,000 persons. The states of the Church were infested with
organised bands, large and small, who terrorised and laid waste the
country. They were well disciplined, well clothed, well armed and well
led by reckless outlaws, many of them of good family who had quarrelled
with authority and set the law absolutely at defiance. They drew their
recruits from the entire criminal population; every village sent its
contingent and the people generally were in close relations with the
banditti, whom they supported and admired for their daring deeds and
unbounded contempt for danger. They befriended and sided with the
bandits against the soldiery sent in pursuit of them, for the bandits
treated them well, while the soldiers robbed and ill-used them so that
they were stigmatised as the “slaughterers,” and thus the defenders of
the public peace were more dreaded than its disturbers.
At this time, there were three principal brigand chiefs, Piccolomini,
Guercino and Lamberto Malatesta. The first was a nobleman, Duke of Monte
Marciano, of an illustrious family in Sienna, which had given a pope,
Pius II, to the pontificate. This highborn brigand was long the lord and
master of the papal states and ravaged them from end to end. Sometimes
he made descents on Rome; sometimes he raided the Romagna and the two
Marches. He moved always with lightning-like rapidity, suddenly
appearing before some stronghold, which he captured, forthwith putting
its garrison to the sword. He generally beat off the troops sent against
him, but if worsted skilfully made good his escape. Many stories were
current of his misdeeds; the mere expression of his face framed in with
long flowing hair struck terror to the hearts of his victims, but he
treated the peasants kindly and was almost as much loved as feared by
them. He threatened to carry his depredations into the very heart of
Rome and declared he would hold the city at his mercy until reinstated
in his confiscated possessions. Some sort of compromise was entered into
by the pope, in Gregory’s time, and although he did not recover his
estates, he was bought off by the grant of a pension to his sisters.
Nothing could exceed the insolent boldness of the brigands when Sixtus
assumed power. They came up to the very gates of Rome; indeed they
entered the Holy City and often carried off people whom they took out of
their beds. Outside, they intercepted communications, stopped the mails
and robbed messengers of the ambassadors. Sixtus waged war vigorously
against them; he called upon the people in a bull, issued within a week
of his election, to fly to arms when the alarm-bell rang and offer
determined resistance. A price was set upon the heads of the leading
brigands; full pardon was promised to any who would betray or kill their
fellows. A new and more capable commander, Cardinal Colonna, headed the
soldiers in attacking the banditti, who were driven off with great loss
of life. Guercino, the priest, was among the slain. After this the
smaller towns joined in the campaign, which was pursued with so much
energy that by the end of the year the brigands were completely driven
out of the Campagna.
After Piccolomini had retired into private life, Lamberto Malatesta
became the most formidable leader. He also was a man of rank and
belonged to the family of Rimini who had once reigned almost as
sovereign princes. His operations were conducted on a large scale and
with the utmost audacity. He ravaged Romagna, Umbria and the Marches; he
attacked and took fortified castles; he scaled the walls of Imola, an
important town in the Romagna, and was strongly backed by the grand-duke
of Tuscany, with whom he found secure winter quarters and all necessary
reinforcements. The pope was constrained to threaten the duke with war
unless he withdrew his support from this outrageous criminal. Sixtus
spoke in the most indignant terms. “It astonishes me that you should
tolerate a man who has been discarded by the Holy Church, that you
should allow him to levy men in your states to the detriment of mine.”
He went on to threaten coercive measures unless Malatesta was at once
given up to him. The grand-duke yielded with a good grace; arrested
Malatesta and sent him to Rome, where his arrival caused great
consternation and a general exodus of many secret supporters who dreaded
the result of his revelations. No better proof could be afforded of the
extent of Malatesta’s nefarious operations and of the number of allies
he had secured. It was said that at one time he had conceived the most
ambitious schemes,--nothing less than the invasion of Italy by
Protestant princes from the north and the overthrow of the papal power
in Europe, in coöperation with his hordes of robbers. Sixtus made short
work of this aristocratic criminal; he was put upon his trial, the suit
was pressed forward and he was speedily condemned. Out of consideration
for his family, the sentence of death passed upon him was carried out by
decapitation on the battlements of St. Angelo. So efficacious were the
uncompromising measures undertaken against brigandage that when barely
two years had elapsed after the pope’s election, it had practically
ceased to exist.
Sixtus V was uniformly severe in the repression of all kinds of crime.
He was, no doubt, by nature cruel; he spared no one and punished wrong
doing inexorably. A man of austere virtue, he condemned all immorality
and would suffer no breaches of the law. His rule was harsh and
unrelenting, but it extricated Rome from the old chaos of tumult and
disorder. A long list might be made of the summary regulations he
enforced for the good government of the city. He issued stringent laws
against astrologers, fortune tellers, card sharpers and blasphemers; he
obliged all ecclesiastics to appear with the tonsure and in the dress of
their order; he threatened death to the newsmongers if they spread any
report that ought to remain secret or might be prejudicial to the honour
of private persons. In this connection it may be said that capital
punishment was comparatively rare and reserved mostly for homicides
after fair trial. Impunity for misconduct was no longer conceded to
birth, position, connections or benefit of clergy. It was dangerous to
make a joke of the law. Several youthful members of the best families,
Orsini Sforza and Incoronati, dared to place cats’ heads on pikes on the
bridge of St. Angelo to ridicule some public execution, and they were
all forthwith arrested, but escaped with a reprimand. The son of a
cardinal, D’Altemps, was guilty of abduction, and despite the protests
of his father, was seized and shut up in the castle of St. Angelo. Here
he lay for four months under sentence of death, the proper penalty for
his offence; and although the sacred college resented the action, the
pope long refused to forgive the offender, who was only released to
oblige his uncle, a German of high rank, who came to Rome on purpose to
plead his cause. Two servants of another cardinal, Sforza, quarrelled
and blood was shed, but the offenders made their escape. Sixtus ordered
the cardinal to give them up under pain of being locked up himself in
St. Angelo. Another cardinal was arrested for disobeying the pope’s
orders, and when Cardinal de Medicis pleaded for him, Sixtus sharply
reproved him, declaring that he meant to be master both in Rome and in
Christendom. The pope’s arrogant demeanour naturally did not endear him
to the cardinals and several of them would have no intercourse with the
Vatican and attended neither the consistories nor the ceremonies of the
Church.
A few more instances may be quoted to illustrate the punishment and
condition of crime in the time of Pope Sixtus V. Very soon after his
accession, the servant of the German ambassador was found wearing a
sword, which was forbidden, and for which he was imprisoned and received
three lashes. The diplomatic body was loudly indignant and insisted that
the governor of Rome who had enforced the punishment should be called to
account. But Sixtus positively refused to interfere and boldly declared
that if one of the ambassadors themselves had been caught, he would have
been equally punished for it; and more, that were the emperor to come
in person to Rome he should be compelled to obey the laws laid down by
His Holiness. Another story is told of the time when brigandage was
rampant. Count Giovani Pepoli was the head of a great family in Upper
Italy and a bandit had taken refuge at one of his castles in Bologna.
The governor of the province called for his immediate surrender, but
Count Pepoli refused, claiming that his castle was a fief of the German
Empire. The governor attempted to lay forcible hands upon the brigand
but failing in the attempt, caused the count himself to be arrested. The
pope entirely approved of this summary act, and threatened the old count
with death and confiscation unless he delivered up the bandit. The
sturdy old nobleman still refused and sought the protection of the
emperor in a letter, which was intercepted, and in which he had
imprudently said that he counted upon being soon out of the hands of
this monkish tyrant. Sixtus positively refused to spare the count, whom
he charged with constant collusion with brigands and whom he said must
pay the penalty. This was enforced by sentence of death and the count
was accordingly strangled in prison. This severity was condemned by
public opinion in Rome as excessive. “Everyone who knew this excellent
nobleman feels horrified,” wrote one of the cardinals. On the other
hand, there were those who believed that this execution would tend to
increase public security. It was no doubt an act of great boldness, for
the state of Bologna was disaffected. The Bolognese were a turbulent
people and might be expected to rise in rebellion against the pope, but
they lacked the courage to oppose Sixtus, who saw that he had struck a
decisive blow which created a profound impression in Italy and beyond
it.
The pope showed no mercy to his own order, and offending ecclesiastics
were called to strict account. A friar who had imposed upon the
credulity of the devout by pretending to work miracles with an image of
the Virgin, was ignominiously paraded from one end of the Corso to the
other, and then publicly flogged. A Franciscan, one of his own order,
who had been guilty of many crimes, was hanged upon the bridge of St.
Angelo. A clerical newsmonger was barbarously executed at the same
place, having been first degraded and unfrocked. Before he died on the
gibbet his hands were cut off and his tongue torn out. A list of his
crimes were written on a board and hung over him; they included
calumniation of persons of all ranks, the dissemination of false news,
and correspondence with heretical princes. A mother who had permitted
her daughter to become the mistress of a noble, was hanged on the bridge
of St. Angelo, and the girl dressed in rich clothes, the gift of her
seducer, was forced to witness the execution. An impostor who had
manufactured and disposed of false bulls was executed upon a gilded
gibbet. The mere name Sixtus V inspired wholesome terror. When quarrels
and affrays occurred in the public streets, they were instantly quelled
if the passers-by called out, “Remember that Sixtus V reigns.” The pope
was the universal bogey, and even mothers quieted their children by
crying, “Hush! Sixtus is coming!”
This stern ruler had a long memory. The passage of the years brought no
forgiveness for ancient and half forgotten offences. He cherished a
vindictive feeling for many years against the murderer of his nephew
Francesco Peretti, the unfortunate husband of that famous beauty,
Vittoria Accoramboni. This crime had been perpetrated in the time of
Gregory, when Sixtus was still Cardinal Montalto and held of small
account. The reigning pope would take no proper action, and the real
authors of the murder were screened; one was a man of the highest rank,
an Orsini, Duke of Bracciano, with whom Gregory was afraid to interfere.
A brief account of this most reprehensible affair may fitly be
introduced here.
The Accoramboni were a noble family of Gubbio, in Umbria, the chief of
which had married an ambitious Roman lady, who hoped to achieve a
leading position in society through her daughter, one of the most
fascinating women known to history. Her charms are amply set forth in
contemporary records. She was singularly beautiful, had a quick wit and
a cultivated mind, a sweet voice, with every natural gift and most
attractive manners. Many suitors came to pay her court, chief among
them being Paolo Giordano Orsini, the above mentioned duke of Bracciano,
whom she no doubt favoured, and who was distinctly acceptable to the
mother in spite of his evil reputation. He was said to have strangled
his first wife, Othello-like, in a fit of jealousy. He was also closely
allied with the brigands whom he sheltered, both in Rome and in the
provinces, where he had vast possessions. He was very stout, no longer
young or handsome, and hardly the kind of man to captivate a woman. But
he pleased Vittoria and being deeply in love would no doubt have married
her except for Accoramboni, the father, who intervened, fearing some
scandal, and gave his daughter to Francesco Peretti, of course an
inferior, but by no means a bad match. The young couple came to live
with Cardinal Montalto in the modest house near S. Maria Maggiore. They
were fairly happy, but ill-matched. Vittoria was a fashionable lady,
recklessly extravagant, devoted to social functions and the smartest
clothes. She was an unconscionable flirt, many men were continually at
her feet, and foremost among them was her old lover the duke. Family
quarrels and dissensions were of constant occurrence, when one night
Francesco was assassinated in the street, it was supposed by Marcello
Accoramboni, his brother-in-law, with whom he had been last seen, but
who had, no doubt, been incited to the murder by the duke of Bracciano.
Montalto was overwhelmed with grief, but got no redress from the pope,
who merely ordered the prosecution of a person who had made a false
confession of the crime and who was at a safe distance from Rome. There
could be little doubt as to the chief instigator, for a few days later
Vittoria ran away from the cardinal’s house and sought the protection of
the duke of Bracciano. Moved now by public indignation, the pope issued
a warning ordering Vittoria to go home to her father and break with
Orsini, whom she was forbidden to marry. All these orders were defied;
she constantly visited the duke, and it was afterwards known that two
distinct marriages between them took place about this time. But the pope
vindicated his authority and sent the police to arrest Vittoria, and she
was conveyed to the castle of St. Angelo, where she was imprisoned for
nearly a year. The duke, however, who stood well at the court, managed
to secure her enlargement, openly declaring that he had given up his
idea of marrying the woman, who, as a matter of fact, was already his
wife. A third marriage was solemnised at the very time of the election
of Sixtus V.
It was now Montalto’s turn; the murderers of Francesco Peretti might
look at last for a sharp reckoning. The duke of Bracciano had not
hesitated to pay homage to the new pope, although on his appearance at
the Vatican he was received with a coldness that boded ill. Vittoria
likewise had the effrontery to visit Camilla, the pope’s sister and the
mother of her first husband. It was very plain to the Braccianos that
their position in Rome was insecure and, escaping in the night, they
fled into the country and eventually took refuge at Salo, in the
territory of the Venetian republic. The matter slept for a time but was
revived by the arrest of a servant of the duke’s for another crime, who
made many damaging allegations against his former master when on the
rack. Now Donna Camilla implored her brother to avenge the murder of her
son, and Sixtus V applied for the extradition of the duke of Bracciano.
He had first perused all of the documents on the case, which had been
deposited in the castle of St. Angelo, and was moved to fresh
indignation. Death, however, removed the duke from the scene and Sixtus
instead asked for Marcello Accoramboni, who was in prison at Padua for
another offence. The Venetian senate demurred, but at length surrendered
him, and Marcello was taken to Ancona where he was tried, convicted and
executed.
Vittoria’s fate was cruel, but perhaps not wholly undeserved. The duke,
who died in her arms, had left her a large portion of his wealth, but at
the mercy of the Orsini family. Ludovico, who was in the service of
Venice, hurried to Salo and subjected Vittoria to much indignity,
obliging her to surrender all her jewelry and valuables. She, foreseeing
worse, fled to Padua and applied to her uncle-in-law for help and
protection. Sixtus V had always liked her and willingly lent her his
countenance in her poverty and distress, but it was too late. A number
of armed miscreants broke into the palace, which she inhabited with her
brothers, and murdered her when she was at her prayers. The crime was
brought home to Ludovico, who stoutly resisted capture, but he was soon
taken and the doge at once decided that he should lose his life. Three
days afterward he was strangled in prison and his accomplices hanged on
the public place of Padua.
The consolidation of peace and good order in his dominions was not the
only boon conferred by Sixtus on his people. A motto ascribed to him,
“Severity and the accumulation of riches,” indicated the guiding
principles of his reign. We have seen how he administered justice; I
will now refer briefly to his wise financial policy.
The visitor to the castle of St. Angelo is shown the Treasure Chamber
created by Sixtus. It is reached, after passing through the oil stores
and the Cannon Ball Court, by a long narrow corridor from which open the
so-called historical prisons, all of which are associated by tradition
with some famous occupant. One is that known as the “Petroni,” so-called
after the wife of Francesco Cenci, the stepmother of the unhappy
Beatrice; another is said to have been the resting place of Beatrice
herself, and yet another the place of durance of Benvenuto Cellini.
Cellini’s cell still preserves traces of a figure drawn in charcoal
representing “Christ Triumphant,” attributed to the famous artist’s own
hand, and there is internal evidence to show that this was the very cell
from which he started on his memorable escape. After wrenching from its
hinges the door which stood at the top of the steps, he made his way to
a small platform, which projected from the keep in the form of a
balcony, and lowered himself from this point by using the rope he had
manufactured out of his sheets. We view these hideous cells with horror;
they are dark and airless--the exact counterpart of mediæval
dungeons--and we can enter into the feelings of their wretched inmates
who languished there for years with little hope of release except by
death. From the level of these prisons, we mount to the first floor of
the papal apartments, and enter the hall named after Giulio Romano, and
pass into a circular chamber, really in the very centre of the castle,
which was the receptacle of the secret records and the papal treasury.
Walnut wood shelves in the plain style of Paul III surround this chamber
and it contains a number of huge boxes in oak, bound with iron and of
immense strength. The largest of these was the cash box of Sixtus V, and
in the smaller ones the crown jewels, the sceptres and tiaras and
precious relics were preserved.
Sixtus V became the richest sovereign of the day; he was often heard to
say that a king without money was nobody, and he always had plenty
ready to his hand. There were no means of borrowing in those days; only
two public banks existed, those of Venice and Genoa, and neither of them
lent money even on the most undeniable security. Any man, even the head
of a state, if he wanted to lay his hand on specie must save it and put
it by. Sixtus was wedded to economy, and the fruits thereof were
deposited in St. Angelo. He bent every effort to gather in the rich
harvest. He taxed his people heavily; imposed duties upon all articles
of produce, even for a time upon wine, a most unpopular measure. His
savings in due course amounted to vast sums; his deposit in the castle
at the end of his reign was three million scudi in gold, and a million
scudi in silver, all of which constituted a very solid backbone of
wealth. Not that this implied a solid financial system; for the moneys
thus hoarded were taken out of circulation and meant so much dead
capital withdrawn from currency and useless in fostering commercial
industry. Moreover, the taxation by which the pope gathered his funds
together was undoubtedly burdensome and injurious to the people.
It is little likely that such a despotic ruler as Sixtus V would escape
criticism; he was constantly lampooned and held up to ridicule in the
manner dear to the witty Romans, but full of danger even when it was
done anonymously. He was constantly exposed to satirical jests which
were pasted up on the statue called the Pasquino, the mutilated part of
a great group representing Menelaus dragging the dead body of Patroclus
from the walls of Troy. This statue stood against the walls of the
Orsini palace close to the corner where another more splendid building,
the Braschi palace, was afterwards built. This shapeless fragment was
generally considered one of the noblest works of ancient art. A witty
tailor, named Pasquino, at one time kept a shop nearly opposite the
statue, which was nicknamed after him. The wits of the city frequented
Pasquino’s shop to interchange scandalous gossip and pungent jokes and
the place became famous. When the street was repaired the statue was
removed and was erected alongside the shop, and the custom was
established of making it a sort of notice board; the epigrams pasted up
were known as _pasquinata_, the origin of our word “pasquinade.” This
was early in the sixteenth century, from which time forth Pasquino
became a name much dreaded and the vehicle of many bitter sayings. The
government vainly tried to silence him and get rid of the statue. One
pope, Adrian VI, who had been deeply offended by some sarcastic lines,
would have thrown it into the Tiber, but a wise Spanish legate warned
him to forbear lest the frogs in the river should learn to croak
pasquinades. Another pope, Paul III, was asked by the statue how much he
would give it to hold its tongue? A collection of the early pasquinades
preserving a great number of the epigrams is extant but exceedingly
rare.
In one of the pasquinades Clement VII was told, “Papa non est errare;”
the word _errare_ having the double meaning, might be taken to imply
that he claimed to be infallible and could not go wrong, or might refer
to the fact that he was held a prisoner in St. Angelo by the constable
of Bourbon, and could not wander at will.
Pasquino had a rival. There was a second statue, that called the
Marforio, standing near the Capitol and used for the same purpose,
chiefly in carrying on a dialogue in which people were criticised and
sharply attacked. Thus Pasquin is asked why he is wearing a dirty shirt
and he tells Marforio that he cannot get a clean one because Sixtus V
had made his washerwoman a princess. The reference is to the pope’s
sister, Camilla, who had originally been a laundress. This libel greatly
displeased the pope, who was very much attached to his relations, and he
ordered a strict search to be made for its author. At last, after
fruitless enquiry, Sixtus promised the writer a thousand pistoles and
his life if he would come forward and give himself up; on the other
hand, that if he were discovered by other means he should be hanged. The
libellist, hungry for the reward, made full confession and then demanded
the money, and, as promised, that his life should be spared. The pope
was as good as his word; he handed over the money, but ordered that the
offender should have his hands cut off and his tongue bored through so
as to curb his wit. “I only promised you your life,” he said, “and you
have got it, but you deserve punishment, not so much for having written
the pasquinade, but for avowing it.”
Another instance may be related of the ruthless severity with which
Sixtus prosecuted offenders. In addition to the cases mentioned above,
there was that of the parricide Count Attilio Baschi, who had killed his
father forty years before and was now brought to trial, found guilty and
executed. Many other criminals whose offences were all but forgotten,
were also indicted and sentenced. This led to the composition of another
pasquinade affixed to the beautiful statues of St. Peter and St. Paul,
which are still standing at the entrance to the bridge of St. Angelo.
St. Peter was given a bag which he carried on his back and St. Paul was
made to ask why. “I am off on my travels,” was St. Peter’s reply; “if I
stay here I expect to be prosecuted for having cut off the High Priest’s
ear.” Again the pope’s parsimony was ridiculed. Marforio asked Pasquino
why he washed his linen on Sunday. “Because Sixtus is going to put the
sun up at auction to-morrow,” was the reply.
On the whole Sixtus V was a benefactor to his country; he restored peace
and tranquillity to the papal states and the people enjoyed a prosperity
hitherto unknown. The severe measures taken were against wrong doers,
the outlaws who committed crimes, the brigands in open warfare with the
government, the members of great families at variance with one another
who set law and order at defiance. At the same time while protecting the
city, he beautified it and endowed it with many new works. He built
bridges, constructed roads, founded the Vatican library and was a
liberal patron of the arts. A notable instance of his charitable action
was his gift of three thousand crowns to the funds collected for the
redemption of Christian slaves captured by the Algerian pirates. He did
much in a very brief space of time, for he reigned only five years and
died suddenly with a strong suspicion that he had been poisoned.