From Rome to Forlì with bag and baggage.—First presentation of a new
lord and lady to their lieges.—Venice again shows a velvet paw to a
second Riario.—Saffron-hill in brocade and ermine.—Sad conduct on
the part of our lieges.—Life in Rome again.—"Orso! Orso!—Colonna!
Colonna!"—A Pope's hate, and a Pope's vengeance.—Sixtus finally
loses the game.
Journeys in the fifteenth century were important
undertakings,—especially journeys of women and children. But this
expedition of the Count Girolamo and his family was a very serious
affair indeed. His departure from Rome resembled a veritable exodus.
For he determined on transporting to Forlì, not only the whole of
his numerous establishment of servants and retainers of all kinds,
but also all his immense wealth in goods and chattels of all sorts.
This kind of property formed a very much larger part of a rich man's
substance in those times, than it does in these days of public debts
and investments in all kinds of industrial undertakings. A rich
man's wealth in the fifteenth century consisted of large masses of
hoarded coin,—very much smaller in numerical amount, however, than
the sums with which the traders and men of property of our day are
daily conversant,—of horses, and long trains of richly caparisoned
mules,—of large quantities of silks and other rich stuffs, both for
clothing and furniture,—of arms and armour,—of jewels, and gold
and silver plate,—and of the various other articles of household
plenishing. In all such things the Count Riario, who had inherited all
those rich possessions of his spendthrift brother the Cardinal, which,
we are assured,[87] were for their quantity and magnificence one of
the wonders of that age, was rich beyond any other individual of his
contemporaries. And all this vast mass of miscellaneous property he now
carried with him from Rome to Forlì.[88]
[Sidenote: ALONG THE ROAD.]
For eight days[89] the long road by Orte, Terni, Spoleto to Perugia,
and thence over rough and picturesque Apennine passes to Ancona, and so
through the flat and rich plains of Romagna to the distant provincial
city, was thronged with beasts of burden and vehicles, and the servants
and men-at-arms guarding them. As far as the eye could reach from the
highest tower-top in Forlì over the straight dusty line of the ancient
Via Emilia, long strings of laden mules, and carts, might be seen
labouring onwards under the July sun, and, at length, slowly passing
under the city gateway into the welcome shade of the narrow streets.
Each mule load was covered with an embroidered cloth, showing the arms
of Rovere and Sforza; and was bound with silken cords; and each cart
similarly protected. For eight days the citizens of Forlì watched with
ever-increasing wonder the arrival within their little city of all
this wealth; and congratulated themselves on belonging to a master,
whose riches, they trusted, would have the effect of making him less
extortionate towards his new subjects.
At Rome, meanwhile, much gossip and speculation was excited by this
departure of Girolamo, with bag and baggage; men observed, and
whispered to each other, that Sixtus was growing old, and was latterly
much broken. Some went so far as to assert, that his death had been
foretold as to occur in the July or August of that year.[90] At all
events, the Pontiff could not be expected to survive many years.
And Rome, always a turbulent and dangerous place for wealthy men
during the lawless interval between the death of one Pope and the
election of his successor, would be like to be especially so to the
immoderately enriched kinsman of a very much hated Pontiff. It was
surmised, accordingly, that the prudent Count judged it to be time to
think of abandoning a falling house, and preparing himself to ride
out the storms which were sure to follow the death of Sixtus, in the
comparatively safe anchorage of the provincial city he had made his
own, during the hay-making time of Papal sunshine.
Catherine and her husband reached Forlì on the 15th of July, 1481,
having been preceded by their children and goods. Prepared by all they
had witnessed during the previous eight days, to expect something very
magnificent, indeed, when their hitherto unseen lord should at length
make his appearance, the citizens of Forlì did their utmost to welcome
their young sovereigns. Nor, as it appears from the details of their
festal entry preserved to us,[91] were the young couple less anxious
to impress their subjects favourably. All the youth of both sexes,
dressed uniformly in white, and bearing olive branches in their hands,
went out to meet them, headed by the clergy and magistrates, in full
canonicals and robes of office. On meeting this procession, the Count
and Countess descended from their horses, and received their greetings
standing. Catherine, we are told, had decked herself for the occasion
in the most magnificent gala dress she possessed, and had put on all
her most precious pearls and diamonds. "Her mind and intellect being
filled moreover with the choicest Roman manners," says Burriel, "and
joining to these her own elegance, and select and polished diction,
and dexterously taking care, moreover, that the dazzling beauty of her
personal perfections was not hidden from the spectators," she made
conquest at first sight of the eyes and hearts of the Forlivesi.
[Sidenote: ENTRY INTO FORLÌ.]
Girolamo also did his best to make his entry as imposing as possible;
and came attended on his journey by a party of the first nobles in
Rome. It is very curious, and strikingly indicative of the degree to
which Papal splendour outshone all other splendour in the old capital
of the world, and Papal favour lifted the objects of it, be they what
they might, far above all other grandeurs and greatnesses, however
proud, during the brief period of a Pope's incumbency, to find this
low-born kinsman of a mendicant friar attended on his journey by a
Colonna,[92] two princes of the Orsini, one of the great Savelli
family, and others of the oldest patrician families of Rome.
Inside the city every sort of revelry prevailed for three days. In the
principal square of Forlì, admirably adapted, say the Forlì writers,
for such purposes, from its handsome regularity and ample size, a
tournament was held, in which the Roman princes condescended to run
a course; and then a vast wooden castle, constructed in the middle
of the square for this purpose, was besieged and defended by two
parties of the townsfolk, with a reward from the Count to the first
of the besieging party who should enter it; a distinction cheaply won
by a Forlì youth, at the cost of an eye poked out by the zeal of the
defenders.
Then there was a magnificent ball, in which the Count and Countess led
off the dance, followed first by the Roman guests, and then by all the
"beau monde" of Forlì. The chronicler, Leon Cobelli, who is recorded
to have been also a painter, musician, and ballet-master, was there
playing on his rebeck at the Count's elbow; and winds up his account of
the festival by saying that he had never seen such a ball, and never
should again in his days.
There were, of course, triumphal arches, allegorical paintings, cunning
carpentry devices moving by unseen means, eating, drinking, and
speechifying, in prose and verse, to a wonderful extent. "And charming
it was to see the Lady Countess and all her damsels come forth in
different magnificent dresses every day for a whole week, and the great
buffets, ten feet high, in the banqueting hall of the palace, loaded
every day with a fresh service of silver and gold."[93] Every room in
the palace, too, was hung with tapestry, "however large, and however
irregular in form."
[Sidenote: NEW BROOMS SWEEP CLEAN.]
But the crowning joy of all was, when, on the occasion of receiving the
homage of the city, offered in "a very elegant oration by Dr. Guido
Peppi, a perfect master not only of the vulgar tongue, but of Latin,
Greek, and Hebrew,"[94] the gracious Count was pleased to remit the
corn duties to his loving subjects of Forlì. Yet while relinquishing
this important source of revenue, the new sovereigns, at the same time,
undertook various expensive works for the amelioration and improvement
of their cities of Forlì and Imola. At the former, the strong fortress
of Ravaldino, commenced by the preceding dynasty, was carried to
completion. The palace was enlarged and newly ornamented. The public
square was adorned with new buildings and handsome porticoes. Schools
were established both there and at Imola. In the latter city, such
portions as had been built of mud were destroyed, and rebuilt of
stone. The public square was enlarged and beautified, the paving of
the streets improved, and an Academy of Fine Arts instituted.[95] In
short, the young sovereigns seem to have been really anxious for the
well-being of the people committed to their rule; and to have started
at least with some idea of having duties to perform, and some intention
of performing them.[96]
After thus winning golden opinions in Forlì, Girolamo and Catherine
left that city for their other capital, Imola, on the 12th of August;
having sojourned among the Forlivesi a little less than a month. There
a similar welcome, and similar gala doings on a somewhat smaller
scale, awaited them. There also their time was as busily occupied in
making beneficent arrangements for the improvement of the town, and in
striving to obtain the affections of their subjects; and their stay as
short. For Girolamo was called away from these duties and interests
more properly his own, by the necessity of attending to affairs of
the Pope, which made it necessary for him to visit Venice. For this
purpose he left Imola together with Catherine, on the 2nd of September,
after a stay there of three weeks only.
All Italy was filled with uneasy suspicions and jealousies
at this visit of the Pope's nephew, favourite, general and
right-hand-man-in-ordinary to the powerful republic. Every little court
was on thorns, and had spies on the alert to ascertain if possible
the object and the degree of success attending the move. All sorts
of things were suspected, asserted, and chattered of by these busy
gentry; and subsequent historians have had to pick a somewhat thorny
path amid their contradictory statements.[97] The most probable, and
indeed scarcely doubtful explanation of the matter seems, however,
sufficiently simple.
The Turks were in possession of Otranto. The Turkish raids were the
constant terror and bugbear of Italy in these centuries, as were
those of the Danes to our own island at an earlier period. Like the
Danish inroads too to our monarchs, the aggressions of the Turks were
sometimes a motive, and constantly a pretext to the popes for raising
troops and money, and requiring the assistance of the other states of
Italy. The Venetians had in the year before granted no such aid to
Sixtus against the infidels. To obtain the promise of such now from
the Signory was the avowed motive of the Count's visit. But no Italian
potentate ever believed anything that was avowed. Besides, whenever the
Pope was bent on hiding the real causes of movements, whose true scope
was some iniquitous spoliation or ambitious scheme, he always had the
Turks in his mouth.
[Sidenote: FELONS IN ERMINE.]
Now for the real motive. Hercules, Duke of Ferrara, had quarrelled with
the Venetians. He was also in disgrace with Sixtus. In the war, which
had ensued between the Pope and Florence, in consequence of the Pazzi
affair, and the hanging of the Archbishop of Pisa, Duke Hercules had
accepted the place of General on the Florentine side. For which highly
irreligious conduct Heaven's vicar had excommunicated him, and declared
him deprived of his dukedom. Hercules of Ferrara however declared, that
excommunicated he might be, but that Duke of Ferrara he would live and
die by the grace of his own right arm.
The business in hand therefore between Sixtus and the Republic was
first to unite their force for the destruction of this audacious rebel,
and then to decide who was to have the spoil. The Republic said they
would have Ferrara;—and meant it. The Pope said that it should belong
to the Church; but meant, that it should fall to the lot of Girolamo,
and form the main pillar of that edifice of family greatness, for which
Sixtus lived and laboured.
But in stating the high policy of princes with this naked
brutality,—into which the necessity of brevity has betrayed the
writer—there is a danger, that perverse and ill-constituted
idiosyncrasies may picture to themselves Counts, high and mighty
Signors, and even Heaven's Vicegerent himself under the figure and
similitude of some Bill Sikes, Artful Dodger, and reverend Fagin
contending with mutually deceptive intentions respecting some equally
nobly won booty. It becomes the historian therefore to lose no time
in having recourse to those means, which the time-honoured practice
and general consent of the world have appointed for the decorous
draping and nobilitating similar passages of history. Bill Sikes
in Doge's bonnet and ermine cloak, a venerable Fagin duly tiara-ed
and apostolically elected, and an Artful Dodger in knightly guise,
with a lovely and brilliant she-dodger by his side, gracefully going
through decorous festivities in ducal halls in the midst of admiring
satellites, will offend no proprieties.
Hasten we then to the all-potent upholstery, which decently differences
the monarch and the burglar.
Of these Venetian festivities, it so happens, that our old Roman friend
Jacopo of Volterra has left us the account of an eye-witness. Taking
a rare holiday from diary-writing in the capital of the world, he had
gone, he tells us,[98] to visit certain relations at Lucca. And thence,
led by the desire of seeing the world, "videndi studio," he visited
Bologna, Ferrara, and Padua. In the latter city he heard that the Count
Girolamo and his noble lady had just arrived at Venice, having passed
not by the route of Padua, but by Comacchio and the marshes, for the
sake of avoiding Ferrara. So our curious Jacopo, who like a gadabout
gossip as he was, could not resist the temptation of being present on
such an occasion, left his horses with the innkeeper at Padua; and
hiring a boat on the Brenta, sailed for Venice—"Navigavi Venetias."
The day after his arrival was Sunday, on which day at noon "the noble
Virgins of Venice, to the number of an hundred and thirty-two, all,
if not equally beautiful, equally loaded with gems, gold, and pearls,
offered the Count, in the great hall of the ducal palace, a most
magnificent spectacle, worthy of being remembered throughout all time."
Giovanni Mocenigo, the Doge, sat on a lofty dais between Girolamo
and Catherine. All the nobility of Venice were ranged tier above tier
around the hall, in such numbers, that Jacopo never remembered having
seen such an assembly even at Rome, except on occasion of the jubilee.
Dancing was kept up till it was dark. Then white wax-candles were
lighted in such numbers that night became more brilliant than day.
Games of various kinds were then exhibited till the fourth hour after
sunset. Then the feasting began—feasting of which it was difficult to
say whether quantity or quality were the more wonderful! The women's
dresses, "_ut a peritis intelligo_,"—as I am given to understand
by such as are up in such matters, were estimated to be worth three
hundred thousand gold pieces.
[Sidenote: FESTIVALS AT VENICE.]
Other particulars of the doings at Venice on this occasion, and of the
great honour shown to the Count by the Signory, have been preserved in
a letter[99] by the Archdeacon of Forlì, to Lorenzo de' Medici, from
the tone of which it should seem that, although in the suite of his
sovereign, his real business at Venice was to act as spy for Lorenzo.
This good Archdeacon tells his correspondent that it cannot be denied
that the Signory have treated the Count in the most distinguished
manner, that any prince was ever treated by them in the memory of
man. He relates how forty noble citizens were sent to meet him at
Malamocco; how the Senators themselves, with the Doge on board the
Bucentaur, and an hundred and fifteen noble ladies to do honour to the
Countess Catherine, came out to St. Clement in the Lagoon, two miles
from Venice, and escorted him into the city, with every possible
mark of respect and rejoicing; how the Doge received him the next
day standing at the foot of the Giant's staircase; how he had been
created "Gentilhuomo di Venezia;" and how the Senate had assembled and
proceeded in his presence to transact certain business, in order that
he might see their mode of procedure. Notwithstanding all which, adds
this traitor Archdeacon, and clever spy, "I am certain that this visit
has produced no fruit, which need give umbrage to your Lordship, or our
other friends. Nor am I by any means sorry that it has taken place;
as I know, that despite all this show of respect, the Count has seen
here certain things, which have been discouraging to him rather than
otherwise."
And, indeed, the experience of his brother the Cardinal's visit
to Venice, and its results, ought to have been sufficient to warn
Girolamo, that the grave Senators of the Republic were not unwont to
laugh in their sleeves, while fooling vain young courtiers to the top
of their bent with all sorts of external honours and gala-making, and
sending them away wholly unsped, as regarded the substantial objects of
their mission. How far Count Girolamo, and Catherine on whose counsel,
we are told, he relied much on occasion of this visit to Venice,
having taken her thither for the express purpose of availing himself
of it, were contented with the result of their negotiations, we have
no means of knowing, though Burriel undertakes to say, that he was
highly dissatisfied. But it will be seen in the sequel, that Lorenzo's
correspondent, the Archdeacon, had found the means of arriving at a
very correct opinion of the real intentions of the Venetian statesmen.
[Sidenote: CONSPIRACIES.]
The Count and Countess reached Imola on their return on the 23rd of
September, and remained there till the 9th of October. While still
busy there, according to the historians, in making various provisions
for the amelioration of their territories and the benefit of their
subjects, they received news from Forlì of the discovery of a dangerous
conspiracy for the purpose of restoring the dynasty of the Ordelaffi.
The conspirators proposed to assassinate Girolamo on his journey from
Imola to Forlì; and then with the help of the Lord of Faenza, who was
an uncle of the banished Ordelaffi, of the Lord of Bologna, and above
all of Lorenzo de' Medici, who had by no means forgotten the ill turn
he owed the Riarii, to secure the city for its ancient masters.
It is upon the occasion of this conspiracy that we learn, for the
first time, from the reluctant admission of the historians, that two
others having the same object had already been crushed by the vigilance
of Francesco Tolentino, governor of Forlì, in the course of the year
1480, before the new sovereign had yet visited his principality. On
both these occasions the clergy implicated in them had been exiled
for a while, and the laymen hung in the orthodox manner.[100] And now
the turbulent artisans of Forlì are trying again the same desperate
game. The only consolation to the feelings of the injured sovereigns,
was to be found in the fact, says Burriel, that no noble was engaged
in the affair. Happily our vigilant Tolentino has the leaders of the
conspiracy safe in the fort of Ravaldino before any mischief is done,
beyond the painful effect of so much ingratitude on the feelings of the
gracious sovereigns.
The historians are diffuse in indignant moralising on this
"ingratitude," and perverseness. It seems true, indeed, that Girolamo
and Catherine showed themselves inclined to govern according to
the best extant lights of state-craft. But these writers omit to
remember, that the Riarii were usurpers; and that the ousted family,
and old familiar name, with its three centuries of history clinging
round it, now represented by two young men, known to the Forlì
artisans only by their unmerited misfortunes, were sure in absence
and exile to be remembered with affection, and associated with a
thousand "good-old-times" recollections, more potent over the minds
of ignorantly patriotic burghers, than modern fiscal reforms. The
Ordelaffi pretenders have no biographers except their enemies; and
we must trust therefore to our imaginations for their view of these
recurring conspiracies.
The Count and Countess hastened to Forlì on hearing these tidings from
Tolentino. All danger was however over; and Girolamo with magnanimous
clemency—much praised by his biographer—gave orders that no vengeance
should be inflicted ... till after he had left Forlì.
This he immediately did, starting for Rome with Catherine on the 14th
of October. And ten days afterwards, the good people of Forlì received
the necessary lesson from the sight of four corpses dangling from as
many windows of the _Palazzo Pubblico_.
The second residence in Rome, which followed this return in October,
1481, was characterised by events of a very different kind from those
which had imparted so festive a character to those first four years.
In the early days of his Papacy, the efforts of Sixtus to turn his
elevation to account in the only manner in which it was valuable
to him, had been crowned with success by the establishment of his
son—or nephew—as prince of the third-rate states of Forlì and Imola.
The bolder attempt, which followed, to acquire for him the dominion
of Florence at the expense of so much black and odious guilt had, as
has been seen, not only failed, but had entailed on Italy two years
of war. And now the same undying ambition and insatiable avarice was
driving him into the still greater misfortunes, which resulted from his
endeavours to appropriate the dukedom of Ferrara.
[Sidenote: ITALIAN POLITICS IN 1481.]
Though much discontented with Girolamo's failure in the object of his
visit to Venice, in as much as the Signory, while giving him abundance
of fair words, had steadily evaded any engagement as to relinquishing
their pretentions to Ferrara, when its Duke should be driven out by
their joint forces, Sixtus, nevertheless, determined on continuing his
alliance with them, in the hope that, when the prey was hunted down,
he might find the means of appropriating it to himself. The Venetian
Senators were doubtless guided in their secret counsels by similar
considerations.
Every effort was at first made at Rome to conceal the existence of such
an understanding; and the Pope was in public loud in his abuse of the
Republic. But Ferdinand, the crafty and cautious old King of Naples,
was not to be taken in by any such means. And the first consequence of
the Pope's policy was the necessity of sending troops with Girolamo at
their head to the Neapolitan frontier to oppose the hostile movements
of the Neapolitans, who, under the command of Alfonzo, the King's
son, threatened to force their way through the Roman states, for the
purpose of going to the assistance of the Duke of Ferrara. Most of the
other states of Italy, as usual, joined in the quarrel; the greater
potentates for the protection of their own, or the hope of acquiring
new dominions; and the lesser, as usual, in the capacity of mercenaries
and "condottieri" captains. Thus all Italy was in a state of war and
confusion.
In order to meet Alfonzo with as powerful a force as possible, Girolamo
sent to his trusty governor, Tolentino, to come from Forlì, and bring
with him as strong a band of Forlivesi as he could raise. The Bishop
Magnani was appointed governor in his absence.[101] But his reverence,
frightened at the remembrance of former conspiracies, and seeing
ground of suspicion in everything, so used his authority, imprisoning,
confiscating, and racking the lieges, even to death, right and left,
that the commander of the fortress, after fruitlessly remonstrating
with the bishop, wrote to Girolamo, that if he wished to preserve
his position in Forlì, he must lose no time in putting a stop to the
proceedings of his churchman governor. So Tolentino had to be sent back
in a hurry.
At length, on the 21st of August, 1482, Girolamo at the head of the
Papal troops, and the celebrated "condottiere," Robert Malatesta,
at the head of the Venetians, gave battle to the Neapolitans near
Velletri, and won a victory over them. The success, such as it was,
produced no very important or decisive consequences; but of course
the utmost was made of it at Rome. Girolamo marched into the city in
triumph, and prisoners and standards were paraded and presented to his
lady Countess, who must have felt, thinks Burriel, that this was the
happiest day in her life. It may well be doubted, however, whether
Catherine felt much happiness on the occasion, though she no doubt
played her sovereign part before the public eye as well on that day as
on so many others. She had little cause for happiness. Things were not
looking well for her and hers in those days. News had recently been
received of the siege of Forlì by some of the allies of the Duke of
Ferrara; and though the attack had been beaten off, mischief had been
done: there was expense to be incurred, and future danger to be feared.
[Sidenote: GREAT SCARCITY.]
Rome itself, moreover, was by no means a place to be happy in during
these latter years of Sixtus IV.'s Papacy. The scarcity of all
necessaries was extreme, the distress very great, and the discontent
threatening. A large portion of the Papal force, however much needed
in the field, was obliged to be retained in Rome for fear of a rising
of the people. Wine was hardly to be procured. Many taverns were shut
up, from absolute impossibility of obtaining food and drink to offer
their customers.[102] Grain was at an unprecedented price; and the
bakers were compelled, under pain of fine and imprisonment, to purchase
their supplies at granaries established by the Pope, for the storing
of inferior corn imported by him at a low price from Naples, and
sold at an enormous profit. And the bread made from this grain, says
Infessura,[103] "was black, stinking, and abominable, eaten only from
necessity, and the cause of much disease."
Another misfortune was the death of the great soldier Robert Malatesta,
who survived his Velletri victory only fifteen days. He died in Rome,
in all probability of fever caused by his exertions in the battle.
But public rumour, as usual, spoke of poison, and attributed his death
to Girolamo's jealousy of his share in the command of the forces. Such
accusations are of interest only as indicative of the motives which the
public mind of the time deemed with probability attributable to its
great men, and of the deeds which were considered likely to have been
perpetrated.
He was buried in the church of St. Peter with all honour, "with
sixty-four torches and many banners and many standards, of which one
bore his arms and this motto: '_Veni, vidi, vici; victoriam Sixto
dedi; Mors invidit gloriæ_;' and a catafalque as if he had been a
pope."[104] The more mordant contemporary diarist, Infessura, in
recording these funeral honours, writes that once upon a time Siena
having been liberated from the Florentines by some great captain, the
Sienese were at a great loss what honours and recompense to award him.
Whereupon a citizen rose and said, "Let us put him to death, and then
worship him as a saint, and so make him our perpetual protector;" which
was accordingly done. "Now, it is said—not that I altogether believe
it," honestly adds Infessura, who bitterly hated Sixtus—"that the
Pope imitated these Sienese in the matter of Malatesta's death and the
honours shown to his dead body."
Many curious indications of the strange disorder and wretched state of
Rome during these years may be gleaned from the prolix daily notices of
these laborious old diarists.
On the 23rd of January, 1483, died "the poor old Cardinal de Rohan,
who was robbed in life and robbed in death. For just before his death,
Messer Bernardo de' Massimi" (a scion of a princely house!) "broke
into his dwelling through the church of St. Apollinare, and robbed it
of thirty thousand ducats' worth of richly wrought plate, with which
he got clear off to Venice. And when the body was being carried to his
burial, the friars of St. Augustin fought with the friars of Santa
Maria Maggiore for certain gold brocade with which the corpse was
covered, and belaboured each other with the torches. And then there was
such a row that swords were drawn, and the rings that the corpse had on
its fingers and the mitre on its head were stolen."
[Sidenote: ROMAN ANECDOTES.]
Here is another queer little picture furnished by the same anonymous
"Notary of Nantiporto:"
One of the great Savelli family, the Signor Mariano, is a prisoner in
St. Angelo. One night, the 25th of July, 1483, the cardinal-governor
of the castle, the constable and other authorities are supping in the
garden behind the fortress; and after supper sit playing cards till
three in the morning. While they are thus engaged, Signor Mariano
contrives to escape from the prison. At four A. M., armed men
are searching all Rome for him, in vain; for he is safe out of the
city. A bad business for the convives of that pleasant supper and card
party; for that same day, Pope Sixtus, who does not like his prisoners
to escape him, goes in person and in a great passion to St. Angelo,
"and stayed there almost the whole day, and drove out the governor and
the constable and the whole of the rest of the party."
Shortly afterwards we have the following anecdote preserved for us by
Stefano Infessura:
A certain youth, one Messer Gianantonio di Parma, a deformed hunchback,
and "monster of a man," grossly ignorant besides, and of infamous
character, had paid down two hundred and fifty ducats to Count
Girolamo, and promised a thousand to the Pope for a place. So Sixtus
sends this promising youth to the Auditors of the Rota, the highest,
most learned, and most respected legal body in Rome, with orders to
admit him at once as one of their number! The members of that court
demurred; humbly pointing out that it was contrary to all law and
custom to appoint as Auditor of the Rota one not qualified by the usual
preparatory degrees and examinations. The Pope, in reply, ordered a
body of guards to march down to the court, and take all the members
prisoners. But that grave and learned body, having received notice
of what was coming, quickly broke up their sitting, and "stole off
secretly, every man to his own house, not by the direct way, but by
Trastevere, for fear of being caught and taken to prison." Hereupon
Messer Gianantonio, baulked of his place, demanded his two hundred
and fifty ducats back again from the Count. But it by no means suited
that magnanimous Prince to refund. So he angrily answered that the
money had been an unconditional gift! In which characteristic story,
it is doubtful whether the Pope's audacious attempt, in despite of all
law, decency, and reason, or the apparent ease with which the Papal
vengeance was escaped, is the more strange.
But nothing is more curiously indicative of the disjointed state of
society, and general disorder prevailing in these times, than the
frequent apparent powerlessness of rulers wielding despotic authority
to do as they would with things immediately, as it should seem, beneath
their hand. Nothing works regularly. Appointed forces abdicate their
functions; and the position of the baulked autocrat puts one in
mind of that of the old woman of the nursery rhyme: "Fire won't burn
rope,—rope won't hang man;" and the despot can't get over the small
stile that impedes the path of his wishes. The immediate instruments
of the tyrant's will, act as if he were a bad child or dangerous
madman. If his orders can be evaded, or escaped from for the day, it
is probable that the morrow may find him busy with some new freak of
power. As there is no inviolable law, there is no certain line of
demarcation between the criminal and the correct citizen. And all the
mass of society is prepared to oppose at least such inert resistance as
it can with safety, to the unreasonable will of an unrespected master.
[Sidenote: TRAITS OF MANNERS.]
Another curious trait of manners has been preserved by two of the
diarists so frequently cited.[105] Girolamo had besieged and driven
out the Colonnas from one of their castles in the neighbourhood of
Rome. This achievement was of course made much of in the city; and
a young painter, one Antonio, son of Giuliano, made the bombardment
the subject of a picture. All the fight was, we are told, painted to
the life with its various incidents and episodes. But in one corner
of the picture, the painter, in one of those whimsical moods so often
indulged in by the artists of that day, had represented[106] a lady in
closer conversation with a Franciscan friar than was consistent with
strict propriety. The painting was talked of; and to the poor painter's
great delight, the Pope desired to see it. Sixtus was at first much
pleased; but then observing the two figures above mentioned, he took
it into his head that the lady was intended to represent the Countess
Catherine. Whereupon, without further ado, he ordered the painter to be
put on the rack, and then hung,—his house to be sacked, and all his
and his father's substance confiscated. All of which was done, except
the hanging, for which exile was substituted, on the pretext that the
offender was little better than crazy.
The constant cause, however, of the worst and most frequent of the
disorders that then rendered Rome little better than a den of outlaws
and anarchy, was the great feud between the Colonnas and the Orsini,
in which the Pope and Girolamo warmly espoused the side of the latter.
No pretext was too flimsy, no injustice too flagrant, no violence too
lawless, for these rulers to commit, in pursuit of the utter ruin of
the hated family.
At length, on the 29th of March, 1484, there was "such work in Rome, as
I never saw the like in my day,"[107] says the Notary of Nantiporto.
All the Orsini and Girolamo Riario with them, armed themselves for a
night attack on the palaces of the Colonnas, with the especial purpose
of destroying the Protonotary Colonna, the head of that family. They,
well knowing of the intended attack, which was in no wise kept secret,
made the best preparations for defence that they could, barricading the
streets with loads of hay and beams, &c. Thus, during that whole day,
"Rome was in great trouble, and every one was in arms." Every body made
their own dwelling as secure as possible; and "I," says the Notary,
"put two carts full of stones before my door, and shored it up well
with beams, and did the same to the windows; and all night long I heard
them crying on the bridge, 'Orso! Orso! Chiesa! Chiesa!' with much
sounding of trumpets, and continual discharges of fire-arms."
[Sidenote: DOWN WITH THE COLONNA!]
The magistrates of Rome, the "Conservatori," the Senators, the
"Caporioni," and many notable citizens, went to the Pope in the midst
of the tumult, to endeavour to bring about a pacification. But the
fierce and vindictive old man would hear of no terms of submission or
reconciliation till the Protonotary should give himself up into his
hands. There was little doubt what would be the result of such a step.
But the Colonna, seeing that it was the only chance of appeasing the
storm that threatened to destroy his whole race, at length declared
that he would go to the Pope. The other members of his family, however,
would not permit him to do so; but determined that he should pass the
night in the house of the Cardinal Colonna, his kinsman.
That night, after a regular bombardment, in the course of which many
lives were lost on both sides, the houses both of the Cardinal and
the Protonotary were taken by assault, and given up to pillage. The
dwellings of many private citizens were also sacked in the tumult and
confusion. At last, the Protonotary surrendered to Virgilio Orsini,
who, together with the Count Girolamo, dragged him off to the Pope.
As for the Cardinal, "all that he possessed was given up to plunder;
his gold and silver, his robes, rich tapestry, and household goods,
even to his hat."[108] As Virgilio Orsini and Girolamo Riario took the
Protonotary through the streets, the Count made several attempts to
put an end to their prisoner with his arquebuss, but was prevented by
Orsini. "Ah! ah! traitor," screamed the Count to his enemy, "when I get
you into my hands I will hang you by the neck."
The Pope ordered him to be taken to St. Angelo; and there Girolamo did
get him into his hands. The torments to which he was subjected in those
secret thick-walled torture chambers, are described as horrible. "At
last," writes Infessura,[109] goaded by his feelings into the unwonted
eloquence of irony, "the most holy Father in Christ, our Lord and
Master, together with his accomplice, the Count Girolamo, according
to their innate and wonted clemency, mercy, and justice, which they
have ever shown, and still show, towards the faithful sons of holy
Mother Church, have given us a crowning proof of their admirable
qualities and hearts. For the medical men summoned by themselves to
the prison of the Protonotary Colonna, have declared, that the varied
and most excruciating tortures to which he has been subjected, have
made it impossible that he should live." He then proceeds to give a
detailed account, according to the report of the surgeons, of the
injuries inflicted on every part of the unfortunate man's body, which,
curious as it is in its indications of the scientific ingenuity of the
torturers, is too painful for reproduction.
But though the Colonna was dying, he did not die fast enough. On the
30th of June, therefore, the anniversary, as Infessura remarks, of the
decapitation of St. Paul by Nero, "His Holiness, our Lord and Master,
inflicted a similar fate on the Protonotary." The mutilated body was
then dressed in vile and grotesque rags in mockery of his late rank and
state, and so sent to his mother. "And I, Stefano Infessura, the writer
of this history, saw it with these eyes, and buried his body with these
hands! For no other citizen of the Colonna faction would meddle in the
matter, as I suppose, from fear."
[Sidenote: THE PAPAL HORIZON DARKENS.]
It is to be observed therefore that our chronicler was evidently a
warm partizan of the persecuted family. But his narrative has all the
characteristics of truthfulness as to its facts. Whenever any ill-deed
of the opposite faction rests only on common report, or suspicion, he
records the accusation, but always marks it as only a report. Besides
that he is in the main perfectly corroborated by the apparently
impartial Notary of Nantiporto.
After the death of the Protonotary the Colonnas attempted by submission
to make peace with Sixtus, so as to preserve some remnant of the family
possessions. But Sixtus, though trembling on the verge of the grave
himself, would hear of no peace or reconciliation as long as there
remained anything belonging to a Colonna, which might be wrenched from
them for the enriching of a Riario.
Yet the horizon was daily growing darker around the fortunes and
long-cherished hope and aims of the rapidly declining Pontiff. Some
months previously to the events just related, he had found himself
forced to change suddenly and scandalously his policy with regard to
the Venetians. As soon as their success against the Duke of Ferrara
seemed imminent, almost all the other states of Italy became seriously
alarmed at the prospect of so great an accession of territory and power
to the great Republic already so formidable to its neighbours. They
united in urging these views on the Pope, who seems to have become
aware about the same time, that if the Venetians conquered, they would
conquer for themselves, and that in such case he would have no chance
of obtaining the coveted dukedom. He therefore suddenly united himself
with the other states in a "santissima lega," against Venice, still
intending to direct its forces also against Ferrara, and hoping thus to
win the prize he could not bring himself to relinquish.
Rarely has been seen a more striking instance of that strangely
interesting but painful spectacle of an unworthy ruling passion strong
in death, than that offered by the dying Sixtus. For what had he
prostituted to mean aims the awful powers and solemn position intrusted
to him? for what wholly disregarded every most dread responsibility;
brought scandal, disgrace, and scoffing on his great office; and made
the title of Heaven's Vicegerent a blasphemy? for what had he plunged
Italy into war, and made Rome a bandit's lair? For a name!—a name
that a few years before had been borne from father to son by unknown
fishermen, happy in their obscurity! That his "family" might be great
among the great ones of the earth!—the family of a mendicant friar and
sworn Romish priest!
This was the one passion for which Sixtus IV. lived, and sinned, and
died. Yes! died for it. For the misery of failure in his hope was the
malady that crushed him into the grave. The game was going all against
him. For as all Italy was united in the determination that Venice
should not possess Ferrara, and the Republic saw clearly that she could
never succeed in taking it in defiance of them all, there was little
obstacle to the peace Italy so much needed. But the Holy Father (!)
would hear of no peace. Each courier that brought news from the camp,
which indicated the probability of such a solution, inflicted a blow
that prostrated him. He was seen by the few who had access to him,
plunged in deep melancholy, and totally unable to rally his failing
strength.
[Sidenote: THE POPE'S DEATH.]
At length came envoys with the news that peace was made;—made without
consent, intervention, or stipulation of his! The messengers with
decorously malicious hypocrisy, pretended to think that they were
the bearers of acceptable tidings,—enlarged on the blessings thus
secured to Italy, which must be so consolatory to the paternal heart
of the father of the faithful, and congratulated him on the prospect
of durable repose opened to the bleeding country. Every word was a
rankling stab to the heart of the despairing but still implacable
Pontiff. Willingly would he have clutched with those shaking hands,
which he was compelled to raise in hypocritical benediction, the
throats of these babblers of peace and reconciliation. But the blow was
fatal to the sinking old man. Ferrara and its fair dukedom would never
now belong to kith or kin of his. So Sixtus turned his face to the wall
and died.[110]