The Family is founded.—But finds it very difficult to stand on its
Foundations.—Life in Rome during an Interregnum.—Magnificent Prince
short of Cash.—Our Heroine's Claims to that Title.—A Night Ride to
Forlì, and its Results.—An Accident to which splendid Princes are
liable.
Yet, to a certain extent, Sixtus had done his work and attained the
desire of his heart. The "family" _was_ founded, though not with
all the splendour and all the guarantees for durability which he so
ardently wished. The poor Franciscan monk's long studious vigils in
his lonely cell, unquenchable ambition, hard upward struggle, patient
self-denial in the acquirement of the reputation that was to be his
ladder, and audacious spurning of that ladder when the height was
won, had obtained the desired reward. The name of Riario was written
among those of the princes of Italy. And all those deep theological
readings, so well and earnestly pursued as to have made this poor friar
the "greatest theologian of the day," "profound casuist," confessor,
doctor, general of all Franciscans, and finally, apostolically chosen
head of all Christ's Church, never led him to doubt the adequacy of
such reward in return for a soul smirched, and moral nature degraded!
Well! we must not attempt to weigh in our nineteenth-century atmosphere
the deeds done, and still less, the thoughts conceived in the grosser
fifteenth-century air, or presume to judge even a pernicious Pope. But
for his "theology," his science of God.... I think that there are some
materials here for forming a judgment of that.
[Sidenote: CATHERINE'S ENERGY.]
The "noble" family had got founded. From base-born father and base-born
mother, very unexceptionably legitimate and "noble," princes had been
born by due application of properly paid sacerdotal rites at proper
times and seasons. Strange to think of! And now the business in hand
was only to keep what had been gained, to "defend our legitimate
position, and the birthright of our children." And that holding our own
without an apostolic uncle, may be more difficult than was the making
it our own with that assistance.
In truth, the difference between the position of Girolamo and his wife,
as long as the breath of life lingered in the nostrils of the terrible
old man, and that which it became the instant that breath had departed
was tremendous. The fall was a stunning one.
But Catherine was not stunned. Though alone in Rome at that critical
moment—for Girolamo was with the troops engaged in driving the
Colonnas out of their fastnesses in the neighbourhood of the city—she
showed herself, on this her first meeting with difficulty and danger,
as promptly energetic and as equal to the emergency as she did on many
a subsequent not less trying occasion. Anticipating the more tardy
action of the Sacred College, now the only existing authority in Rome,
she threw herself into the Castle of St. Angelo, and taking possession
of it in the name of her husband, as Commander of the Forces, found
there a safe asylum for herself and children, during the first outburst
of anarchy that followed the Pontiff's death.
The step was by no means a stronger one than the necessities of the
case required. When Girolamo returned to Rome on the 14th, he found his
home a ruin. The state of Rome was like that of a city given up to
pillage. The streets were filled with citizens carrying property of all
sorts hither and thither, in the endeavour to find some comparatively
safe place of stowage for it. Those who had just sacked the houses
of others were as much at a loss to preserve their plunder as the
more legitimate owners were to save their property. All who were in
any wise connected with the Riarii were of course more especially
exposed to danger. The large magazines belonging to a certain Giovanni
Battista Pallavicini, a brother-in-law of Count Girolamo, which had
for several years escaped, by fraudulent connivance, from all visits
of the tax-gatherer, were utterly gutted. The mob found in them, we
are specially told,[111] all the wax intended for the obsequies of the
Pontiff, a large quantity of alum, and much quicksilver. The Genoese
merchants, of whom there were many at Rome, were particularly obnoxious
to the mob, as countrymen of the deceased Pope. But little property of
value was found in the Count's palace. We have seen it all prudently
packed off in time to Forlì. But the mob revenged themselves for their
disappointment by almost destroying the house itself. Marble doorways
and window-cases were wrenched from the walls, and carried off. What
could not be removed was destroyed. The green-houses, and even the
trees in the gardens, were utterly devastated. One mob rushed out of
the city to a farm belonging to the Count in the neighbourhood, and
there made booty of a hundred cows, as many goats, and a great number
of pigs, asses, geese, and poultry, which belonged, says Infessura, to
the Countess. Other indications of our heroine's good house-keeping
were found in enormous stores of salt meat, round Parma cheeses, and
very large quantities of Greek wine. The huge granaries, also, from
which Sixtus had derived so unrighteous a gain, fell, of course, an
easy prey to the plunderers.
[Sidenote: LEAVES ROME.]
By the 22nd of August the Sacred College had succeeded in some degree
in restoring Rome to a condition of not more than usual disorder. On
that day Girolamo formally undertook to give up into the hands of the
Cardinals, the castle and all the fortresses of the Church—but not
till they had consented to discharge his little bill of 4000 ducats for
arrears of pay as General of the forces.
It would seem, however, as if his active and energetic partner had
conceived at the last moment some idea of maintaining her position in
St. Angelo contrary to her husband's undertaking—probably until the
result of the coming election should be ascertained. For the College
was informed, that during the night between the 24th and the 25th,
which had been fixed for the handing over of the fortress, a hundred
and fifty armed men had been quietly marched into it. The Cardinals
were exceedingly indignant at this breach of good faith. It must be
concluded, however, that Catherine, strong-hearted as she was, did not
find herself sufficiently strong for the contest she clearly seems to
have meditated. For Infessura concludes the incident by saying that
"the Cardinals, nevertheless, took care that the Countess with all
her family, and with the said hundred and fifty men at arms, should
evacuate the Castle on the 25th," as had been stipulated.
Accordingly, on that day, she and Girolamo left Rome, and arrived at
Forlì on the 4th of September.
On the 29th, while they were still on their journey, Cardinal Cibo was
created Pope by the name of Innocent VIII.
The news of this election was most important and most welcome to the
sovereigns of Forlì; for Innocent VIII. had been most materially
assisted in his elevation by the two Riario Cardinals, one the cousin
and the other the nephew of Girolamo. Infessura lets us into quite
enough of the secrets of the Conclave which elected Innocent VIII.,
to make it clear how grossly simoniacal was their choice—an affair
of unblushing bargain and barter altogether. And it may be safely
concluded that Girolamo and his fortunes were not forgotten in the
agreement for the price of the voices of the Cardinals his kinsmen.
Accordingly, on the fourth day after their arrival at Forlì, arrived
three documents, executed in due form: the first recognising and
confirming the Count's investiture, with the principalities of Forlì
and Imola; the second continuing his appointment as General of the
Apostolic forces; and the third dispensing with the residence in Rome
which his office in usual course entailed.[112]
Notwithstanding these great points gained, the position of Girolamo
and Catherine was a difficult one, and very different indeed from what
it had been at the period of their last arrival in their capital. On
this occasion we hear nothing of festal processions and olive branches,
of balls, tournaments, or speechifications. The Forlivesi, doubtless,
already appreciated by anticipation the great difference, soon to be
more vividly brought home to them, between belonging to an enormously
wealthy Papal favourite, who had the means of freely spending among
them a portion of the immense revenues derived from sources which in
no way wrung _their_ withers, and being the subjects of a needy prince,
who expected to draw from them the principal part of his income.
[Sidenote: DANGERS IN THE PATH.]
Besides, the abortive attempts to increase his possessions, which had
formed the leading object of his life for the last eight years, had
most materially contributed to increase the difficulties of holding
what he _had_ acquired under his present changed circumstances. Lorenzo
de' Medici, at Florence, whom he had failed to assassinate, Hercules
d'Este, at Ferrara, whom he had failed to drive from his dukedom by
force, and the Venetians whom Sixtus had suddenly jilted the year
before to ally himself with their enemies, and had then excommunicated,
were none of them likely to be very cordial or safe neighbours, and
were not unlikely to lend a favourable ear, and, under the rose, a
helping hand to those persevering Ordelaffi youths, who were always in
search of some such means of recovering the heritage of their ancestors.
Thus the four years following the death of Sixtus were little else
for Girolamo and Catherine, than a period of continually increasing
difficulty and struggle. To the sources of trouble indicated above
Girolamo soon added by his imprudence another, which in the sequel
led to consequences still more fatal. At the time of the Pope's death
he had, as may easily be imagined from some little indications we
have had of his theory and practice of administration of the Papal
affairs, a very considerable sum of ready money in his hands. But for
the last thirteen years of his life his command of resources had been
practically almost unlimited; and he was wholly unused to the necessity
of abstaining from what he wished on account of considerations of
cost. He was a man of magnificent and expensive tastes; and like his
apostolic kinsman, had especially that, most fatal to the pocket, of
building. At the same time, the extremely distressed state of the
people of his principalities at the period of his second arrival among
them from Rome, arising from the war and the consequently neglected
state of industry and agriculture, made it absolutely necessary to do
something for their relief. Girolamo remitted the tax on meat; and at
the same time launched out into great and costly building enterprises.
Besides enlarging and beautifying their own residence, and raising the
fine vaulting of the cathedral, which still remains to testify to the
skill of the builders and the ungrudging orders of their employers,
the Count and Countess completed the fortress of Ravaldino[113]
on a greatly increased scale of magnificence and cost. It was now
made capable of accommodating 2000 men-at-arms, besides containing
magnificent apartments for their own dwelling in case of need, immense
storehouses of all sorts, and last, though very far from least in
importance, ample prisons. Then, again, there were certain ugly Pazzi
and Colonna reminiscences, which made it only common prudence to
invest a considerable sum in building a convent or two, considering,
as our modern insurance offices remind us, the uncertainty of life. So
a Franciscan cloister, and a nunnery of Santa Maria were built "con
incredible spesa," says Burriel. The former tumbled down when just
finished, and had to be built a second time. Let us hope, that the
catastrophe was not due to any unhandsome attempt at palming off cheap
work on "the recording angel."
[Sidenote: HER YOUNGER CHILDREN.]
All these various sources of expenditure in a short time reduced the
Count from being a rich man, to the condition of a poor and embarrassed
one. This led him to the re-imposition of the taxes he had taken off.
And the latter step led to the very unpleasant results indeed, which
the sequel of the present chapter has to tell.
In the meantime Catherine presented her husband with three other sons.
Her fourth child, and third son, was born on the 30th of October, 1484,
and named Giorgio Livio. A fourth was born on the 18th of December,
1485; and a fifth on the 17th of August, 1487. The second of these
was christened Galeazzo, after Catherine's father; and it is worth
noticing, that one of the child's sponsors at the baptismal font was
the envoy sent to the court of Forlì by Lorenzo de' Medici. Now, we
have abundant evidence that the feelings of Lorenzo were anything but
friendly to Girolamo, as indeed it was hardly to be expected that
they could have been. And this public friend-like manifestation is an
instance of a kind constantly recurring in Italian history, of the mode
in which the "_viso sciolto, pensieri stretti_" wisdom was carried into
practice, that is far less pleasing to trans-Alpine barbarians than to
the Macchiavelli and Guicciardini schooled statesmen of Italy.
From this Galeazzo descend, it may be noted, the present family of the
Riarii.
Catherine's sixth child was christened Francesco Sforza, and was
generally known by the familiar diminutive Sforzino.
There would be neither instruction nor amusement to be got from reading
page after page filled with detailed accounts of the various occasions
on which the chronic state of conspiracy against the Riarii burst out
ever and anon into overt acts, during these years. Correspondence was
well known to be actively kept up by the Ordelaffi with their friends
within the city; and every now and then some butter woman, or friar,
or countryman driving a pig into market, was caught with letters in
his possession, and had to be hung. Then would occur attempts at
insurrection, which occasioned fines and banishment, and beheading and
hanging upon a larger scale. And the historians adverse to the Riarii
assert that he hung and beheaded too much, and could expect no love
from subjects thus treated; while the writers of opposite sympathies
maintain, that he hung and beheaded so mildly and moderately, that the
Forlìvesi were monsters of ingratitude not to love and honour so good a
prince.
Thus matters go on, perceptibly getting from bad to worse. Cash
runs very low in the princely coffers, and the meat tax has to be
re-imposed, occasioning a degree of discontent and disaffection
altogether disproportioned to the gratitude obtained by its previous
repeal. Unceasing vigilance has to be practised, stimulated by the
princely but uncomfortable feeling, that every man approaching is as
likely as not to be intent on murdering you. Girolamo and his Countess,
one or other, or both, have to rush from Forlì to Imola, and from Imola
to Forlì, at a moment's notice, for the prompt stamping out of some
dangerous spark of tumult or insurrection.
[Sidenote: A HARD LIFE.]
In a word, this business of great family-founding on another man's
foundations seems to have entailed a sufficiently hard life on those
engaged in it. And though that "last infirmity of noble (?) minds,"
which prompts so much ignoble feeling, and engenders so many ignoble
actions, vexing as it did their prince, vexed also the cultivators of
the rich alluvial fields around Forlì by corn taxes, salt taxes, meat
taxes, and other "redevances," yet on the whole it may be well supposed
that "fallentis semita vitæ" at the plough tail had the best of it,
despite occasional danger from the summary justice of the _Castellano_
of Ravaldino. That black care, which rode so inseparably and so hard
behind the harassed prince backwards and forwards between Forlì and
Imola, did more than keep the balance even between hempen jerkin and
damasqued coat of mail; and the least enviable man in Forlì and its
county was in all probability the founder of the greatness of the
Riarii.
One consolation, however, this hard-worked prince had in all his
troubles, and that perhaps the greatest that a man can have. His wife
was in every way truly a help meet for him. Catherine was the very
_belle idéale_ of a sovereign châtelaine in that stormy fifteenth
century. Her aims and ambitions were those of her husband; and she
was ever ready in sunshine or in storm to take her full share of the
burden of the day; and, indeed, in time of trouble and danger, far
more than what was even then deemed a woman's share in meeting and
overcoming them. Dark to all those higher and nobler views of human
morals and human conduct which have since been slowly emerging, and are
still struggling into recognition, as we must suppose that vigorous
intelligence and strong-willed heart to have been, nourished as it
was only on such teaching, direct and indirect, as "ages of faith"
could supply, still Catherine had that in her, which, if it may fail
to conciliate our love, must yet command our respect, even in the
nineteenth century. From what she deemed to be her duty, as far as we
can discern, this strong, proud, energetic, courageous, masterful woman
never shrank. And it led her on many a trying occasion into by no means
rose-strewed paths. Her duty, as she understood it, was by all means
of all sorts,—by subtle counsel when craft was needed, by lavished
smiles where smiles were current, by fastuous magnificence where
magnificence could impose, by energetic action when the crisis required
it, by gracious condescension when that might avail, by high-handed
right-royal domineering when such was more efficacious, by fearlessly
meeting peril and resolutely labouring, to aid and abet her husband
in taking and holding a place among the sovereign princes of Italy,
and to preserve the same, when she was left to do so single-handed for
her children. And this duty Catherine performed with a high heart, a
strong hand, and an indomitable will, throwing herself wholly into
the turbulent objective life before her, and perfectly unmolested
by any subjective examination of the nature of the passions which
conveniently enough seemed to range themselves on the side of duty,
or doubt-begetting speculations as to the veritable value of the aims
before her and the quality of the means needed for the attainment of
them.
In March, 1487, Catherine went to visit her relations and connections
at Milan, leaving her husband at Imola; but had been there a very
few weeks when she was hurriedly summoned to return. Girolamo had
been seized with sudden and alarming illness at Imola.[114] Catherine
reached his bedside on the 31st of May, and found him given over by his
medical attendants. She judged, however, that he had not been properly
treated, and lost no time in obtaining the best medical advice in
Italy, we are told,—from Milan, Ferrara, and Bologna. She also nursed
him indefatigably herself, and had the gratification of seeing him
slowly recover.
[Sidenote: A NEW CASTELLANO.]
While he was still unable to leave his chamber alarming news arrived
from Forlì. The faithful Tolentino had died some time previously, and
one Melchior Zocchejo, of Savona, had been appointed _Castellano_
of Ravaldino. This man is described[115] as having been previously
a corsair, and as being a most ferocious and brutal man, worthless,
moreover, in all respects. The seneschal of the palace at Forlì at this
time was a certain Innocenzio Codronchi, an old and faithful adherent
of the Riarii. He had made a sort of intimacy with Zocchejo, as a
brother chess-player, and used to go into the fortress frequently to
play with him, for the duties of the _Castellano_ did not permit him
ever to leave the fort for an hour. This same impossibility made, it
seems, an excuse for the seneschal to offer to send a dinner into the
fort, since he could return the governor's hospitality in no other way.
Introducing thus several bravoes in the guise of servants, Codronchi
suddenly poinarded Zocchejo at table, and with the assistance of his
men seized the fort.
It was supposed at once in Forlì, that, old retainer of the family
as Codronchi was, he had been gained by the Ordelaffi; and that the
fortress, and in all probability the city also, was consequently lost.
The consternation was great; and a messenger, despatched in all haste
to Imola, reached the sick room of the Count late at night with these
alarming tidings. He was still too far from well to leave his room.
Catherine was expecting her fifth confinement every day. Still the
matter was too urgent to be neglected. She at once got into the saddle;
and by midnight that night was before the gate of Fort Ravaldino in
Forlì, summoning Codronchi to give an account of his conduct.
"Dearest lady," replied the seneschal,[116] appearing on the
battlements, and speaking thence to his mistress below, "the fortress
should not have been entrusted to the hands of such a man as the
governor, a worthless drunkard. To-night I can say no more than this.
Go, I entreat, and seek repose, and to-morrow return here to breakfast
with us in the fort."
Old servants, it must be supposed, occasionally take strange liberties
in all climes and ages; but certainly this address does, under the
circumstances of the case, seem one of the strangest.
Catherine, with one attendant before the closed gates of her castle
at midnight, had nothing for it but to do as this audacious seneschal
advised her. The next morning she went according to invitation,
carrying with her, we are told, the materials for an excellent
breakfast. But on reaching again the still closely barred gates of
Ravaldino, the lady was told from the battlements, that she herself,
and the breakfast, with one servant to carry it would be admitted,
but no more. If matters looked bad before, this insolent proposition
certainly gave them a much worse appearance; and made it very necessary
for the Countess to reflect well before acceding to it. If indeed
the seneschal had been bought by the Ordelaffi, his conduct was
intelligible enough, and her fate would be sealed if she trusted
herself within the fortress. It might be, however, that Codronchi,
alarmed at the daring step he had taken, was only thinking of providing
for the immediate safety of his own neck from the first burst of his
mistress's wrath, when he refused to admit any followers with her.
Again, it might be that he was wavering in his allegiance, and might
yet be confirmed in it.
[Sidenote: A BOLD STEP.]
Catherine, after a few minutes of reflection, decided in opposition to
the strongly urged advice of her counsellors in the city, on accepting
the man's terms; and she and the breakfast and one groom passed into
the fortress. All Forlì was, meanwhile, on the tip-toe of anxious
expectation for the result. Of what passed at this odd breakfast, we
have no means of knowing anything, inasmuch as the citizens of Forlì,
including the writers who have chronicled the strange story, remained
then and ever after in perfect ignorance on the subject. Catherine, we
are told, shortly came forth, and summoning to her one Tommaso Feo, a
trusted friend of her own, returned with him into the fortress. And
Codronchi immediately gave over the command of it into his hands; which
done, he and Catherine, leaving Feo as _Castellano_, came away together
to the Palazzo Pubblico of Forlì, where a great crowd of the citizens
were waiting to hear the result of these extraordinary events.
The Countess, however, spoke "only a few mysterious words" to the
crowd. "Know, my men of Forlì," said she, "that Ravaldino was lost
to me and to the city by the means of this Innocenzio here; but I
have recovered it; and have left it in right trusty hands." And the
seneschal voluntarily confirmed what the lady said, remarking that it
was true enough! Whereupon this self-confessed traitor and the Countess
mounted their horses, and rode away to Imola together, apparently in
perfect understanding with each other! "And the next morning, two hours
after sunrise, Catherine gave birth, without any untoward accident
whatever, to a fine healthy boy."[117]
The whole of which queer story, reading as it does, more like a sort of
Puss-in-boots nursery tale than a bit of real matter-of-fact history,
gives us a very curious peep at the sort of duties and risks these
little sovereigns of a city and its territory had to meet, and the
sort of footing on which they often were obliged to stand with their
dependants.
This night-ride to Forlì, too, may under all the circumstances of the
case be cited in justification of the assertion, that our dashing,
vigorous, little scrupulous heroine, had some stuff of fine quality in
her after all. And it was on the eve of being yet more severely tried.
Girolamo had recovered and returned with Catherine to Forlì. Being
hardly pressed for money, he had farmed out the much-hated meat-tax
to one Checco, of the Orsi family, to whom he appears to have owed
considerable arrears of pay for military service. Checco d'Orsi wanted,
not unreasonably, to stop the arrears due to him out of the sum
coming to the Prince from the tax. But this did not suit the Prince's
calculations, and he threatened the noble Orsi with imprisonment.
[Sidenote: MURTHER!]
Yet, notwithstanding these sources of ill-feeling, the Count seems
to have received him courteously, when on the evening of the 14th
of April, 1488, he presented himself at the Prince's usual hour of
granting audiences. It was after supper, and Catherine had retired to
"her secret bower," a point of much importance to Checco d'Orsi and
his friends. Entering the palace they made sure that the business in
hand should not be interrupted by interference of hers, by placing a
couple of their number at the foot of the turret stair which led to
her private apartments. The others passing on to the great hall,—Sala
dei Ninfi,—they found Girolamo leaning with one elbow on the sill of
the great window looking on to the Piazza Grande, and talking with his
Chancellor.[118] There was one servant also in the further part of the
hall.
"How goes it, Checco mio?" said he, putting out his hand kindly.
"That way goes it!" replied his murderer, stabbing him mortally as he
uttered the words.
So Catherine became a widow with six children, at twenty-six years of
age.