A nation of good haters.—Madama's soldier trade.—A new Pope has
to found a new family.—Catherine's bounty to recruits.—A shrewd
dealer meets his match.—Signs of hard times.—How to manage a
free council.—Forlì ungrateful.—Catherine at bay.—"A Borgia!
A Borgia!"—A new year's eve party in 1500.—The lioness in the
toils.—Catherine led captive to Rome.
Dr. Samuel Johnson ought to have been a warm admirer of Italian
character had he been acquainted with it; for he "liked a good
hater." And assuredly the leading physiological characteristic which
colours the whole course of Italian history, and furnishes the
most universally-applicable master-key to the understanding of its
intricacies, is the intensity of mutually-repellant aversion which has
always existed among all the constituent elements of society. Private
hatred between man and man; clan hatred between family and family;
party hatred between blacks and whites, or longs and shorts, or any
other distinctive faction-cry; political hatred between patricians
and plebeians; social hatred between citizens and the inhabitants of
the fields around their walls; and, by no means least though last,
municipal hatred between one city and another, has ever been in Italy
the master passion, vigorous in its action and notable in its results
in proportion to the vigour of social life animating the body of the
nation.
Orsini clans no longer level Colonna palaces with the soil in the
streets of Rome; the story-graven flagstones of the old Florentine
Piazza are no longer stained with the blood of _Bianchi_ or _Neri_;
Siena no more sends out her war-car against Pisa, nor does Genoa
fit out fleets against Venice. Despotism has crushed out all vigour
from the life and torpified every pulse; and having made a deathlike
"solitude, calls it peace."
[Sidenote: LAW OF PROGRESS.]
And has not, then, Despotism done well, even on the showing of the
preceding statements? asks its apologists.
The true and enlightened believer in a god-governance, and no
devil-governance, of the world, will of course answer unhesitatingly,
No! But to answer from the conscience, No!—with faith still as firm
as when the nineteenth century was young and proud with chimerical
hopes—to answer with convictions still undefeated by the defeats of
'48, for ever No!—requires, it must be admitted, a strong and clear
belief in the immutability of the causes that result in human good and
evil; a lively perception of the truth that no faults of a nation's
life can best be remedied by national death; and such a whole-hearted
persuasion of the universality of God's law of progress as can cast out
all doubt of the fact, that every nation on earth's surface must either
advance to improved civilisation, or else prepare to quit the scene, as
some little improvable peoples have done and are doing, and leave the
valuable space they occupy to more highly-gifted races.
The Italian writers of every age, from the sixteenth century to the
present day, are naturally inclined to attribute all the misfortunes
of their country to foreign wrong-doing and aggression. And they date
the sunset of Italian prosperity, as Guicciardini does in the passage
previously referred to, from the French invasion in the last years
of the fifteenth century. But not even the dangers to be anticipated
from the pretensions of the French monarch, nor the actual presence of
foreign troops on the soil of Italy, could avail to check, even for a
time, the deadly hatred of city against city.
This had blazed out fatally between Florence and Pisa in 1496, and
was still raging in the early months of 1499. Pisa was assisted by
the Venetians; and the strength of the two maritime republics seems
to have tried the resources of the Florentines severely. Like the
other second-rate princes of Italy, our "Madama di Forlì" drove a
considerable and important trade in hireling troops. This species of
business was in every respect profitable to the rulers of these petty
states. They thus, besides pocketing considerable sums, maintained
bodies of troops owing allegiance to them and fighting under their
flag, which their own resources would have been wholly insufficient to
support. And the power of hiring out these to either of two contending
powers caused their alliance to be bid for by their more powerful
neighbours, and gave them an importance in the political calculations
of the time disproportioned to the size of their little territories.
Madama had had considerable dealings of this sort with the Florentines.
Ottaviano had taken service with the wealthy republicans, and drew a
handsome stipend from them as General. Early in 1499 the Republic had
sent proposals for a fresh body of troops, and Madama desired nothing
better than to execute the order. But times were hard in Forlì, and
were daily threatening to become harder. Pestilence had been raging
throughout the city and territory, and had inopportunely raised the
value of the raw material of armies.
[Sidenote: ROME'S DUES.]
Worse still, in March of this year Pope Alexander, in full conclave,
had declared Catherine and sundry other little potentates of Romagna
deposed from their sovereignties, for not having punctually paid up
their dues to the Apostolic Chamber. Catherine, indeed, forthwith sent
up envoys to Rome—doctors learned in law and others—to point out to
Pope Alexander that there was an outstanding account due to her late
husband, the noble Count Riario, which had not been settled at the time
of Sixtus IV.'s death; and that she would readily pay anything that
at a fair settling might be found due. One would have thought that a
Riario's wife might have known the Apostolic court better than to have
taken such useless trouble. Did she think Uncle Sixtus of holy memory
was the only Pope who had a family to found? Of course her envoys
were sent about their business without having been allowed to speak a
syllable of their errand.
These dues, a feudal tribute always reserved to the Holy See in its
bulls of investiture, seem rarely to have been heard anything of as
long as a friendly pope occupied the chair of St. Peter; but as soon
as ever an excuse was wanted at Rome for getting rid of an obnoxious
princeling, the Holy Father looked up his ledger and pronounced
sentence of dechéance against the debtor.
Now, Pope Alexander had sons, whom he did not even take the trouble of
calling nephews; and he was, to say the least, quite as royal-minded as
the Franciscan Sixtus. His eldest hope, Cesare Borgia, was exceeding
royal-minded too. And so the Borgias had to be founded as well as the
Riarii; and, unhappily for the other princes of Romagna, as well as
for Catherine and her son, upon a much wider foundation.
Thus from the early spring of 1499, things wore a stormy and troubled
appearance at Forlì. Not that it is to be imagined that Catherine for
an instant dreamed of submitting to the sentence pronounced against
her. Such a course would have been unheard of in her day. Holy Father
might say what he pleased, hail bulls, and do his worst. The Countess
of Forlì would hold her son's sceptre for him, as long as the walls of
the city and fortress would hold together!
And besides, this old debauchee of a Pope might die any fine morning.
He was well stricken in years, and his life said to be none of the
best. And then there would be a fresh shuffle of the cards, and a new
deal, with who knows what new fortunes, and Borgias nowhere in the race.
Meantime it was very desirable to keep on good terms of friendship with
Florence, and Madama accordingly set about preparing the body of troops
desired by the Republic. But symptoms unpleasant enough of Rome's ban
having already begun to produce dangerous effects were not slow to
manifest themselves.
[Sidenote: DISAFFECTION.]
Two deputies were appointed for each ward of the city to make out lists
of all the men capable of bearing arms; and the roll having been duly
sent in to the castle, all those named in it were ordered to present
themselves in the space in front of the citadel at a given hour, to
receive, as they were bound to do, their sovereign's orders.[137]
Catherine and her officers were there to receive their brave lieges.
But time came—time went—and not a man appeared. The lady was angered
to a degree she rarely suffered herself to appear; and issued orders
that officers should that night go round to every house in Forlì at
midnight, when the inmates were sure to be found there, and warn each
enrolled man severally, that if he did not appear at the appointed hour
on the morrow, he should be dangling from a gallows before the next
nightfall. But the result of this vigorous measure by no means tended
to mend matters. For the threatened men, almost to a man, used the
remaining hours of that night to escape from the city; a contingency
against which no provision had been made; as it had never entered into
the head of Catherine or her counsellors that the daring disaffection
of her subjects could proceed to such lengths. The anger of the baffled
sovereign may be imagined. But it was still worse to find, from the
unusually loud mutterings of the citizens, that public opinion was
in favour of the deserters. One said that citizens unaccustomed to
soldiership could be of no use in war; another, that it was hard for
men with families to be called on to abandon them for Madama's affairs,
and merely because she willed it; while others, more daringly meddling
with matters of state policy, maintained, that it was against all
reason that Forlì should unite herself with Florence, which could be
of no use to her, against the Venetians, with whom was the principal
commerce of the city.
The incident was assuredly an ominous one. But Catherine was not to be
easily frightened or diverted from her intent; and for this time the
required levies were obtained from the apparently more docile and more
long-suffering peasants of the territory.
A little later in July of this year 1499, we find the Florentines
again negotiating with Catherine, and no less a man than Niccolò
Macchiavelli was the agent sent to her by the Republic. The written
instructions received by him from the Signory on the occasion of this
embassy, and seven letters from him to the Gonfolonière and council,
giving an account of his proceedings, have been printed from the
originals preserved in the Archives at Florence.[138]
The business in hand was the signing of a new engagement for another
year with the Count Ottaviano, as general in the army of the Republic.
The young count was now just twenty years old. But he does not appear
to have taken any part in the matter, leaving his mother to make the
best bargain for his services that she could. But Florence wanted
to reduce his pay from the twelve thousand ducats it had been fixed
at the previous year, to ten thousand; and this was the point which
Macchiavelli was urged to use all his state-craft and subtilty in
gaining. The arguments used, the considerations put forward, and the
weighing of the probabilities as to the opposite party yielding or
holding out, are very amusingly similar in tone and turn of mind, to
those of any Florentine driving a hard bargain at the present day; and
show us the learned and profound Secretary of the Republic almost a
match for any chafferer of the Mercato nuovo.
He alleges the exhausted condition of the Florentine treasury for
the moment; enlarges much on the advantages to be drawn from the
friendship of Florence, and speaks largely of her well-known gratitude
to her supporters. At the same time he points out, that the present
proposition of the Republic is solely motived by its wish to continue
a connexion honourable to both parties, as, for the present, it has
absolutely no need of the noble Count's services.
[Sidenote: MACCHIAVELLI AT FORLÌ.]
But the astute Secretary had met with a match for his diplomacy.
Catherine said, that she had ever found the Florentines, as now,
abounding in most satisfactory assurances and courteous words, but that
their acts matched badly with them. She thought she merited better
treatment at their hands, having exposed her State to the inroads of
the Venetians by her faithful adherence to them. She wished nothing
but to continue on the good and friendly terms they had hitherto been
on. And as for this matter of the reduction of the salary, it pained
her, because it was seeming to cast a slight upon her son to diminish
his appointments, while those of other generals were maintained by the
Republic at the old amount. Besides, there was the Duke of Milan, her
relative, now offering to engage Ottaviano at twelve thousand ducats:
and what excuse could she make to him, if she refused his offer, and
accepted a worse one from Florence? Then again, the stipend due for
last year had not been paid yet; and really she wished to see that
settled before entering on new engagements.
Macchiavelli writes home, that he strove hard to content her with
good words, saying everything he could think of to cajole her; but
was forced to come away convinced, he says, that "words and reasoning
will not avail much to satisfy her, unless some partial performance be
added to them." As to this offer from the Duke of Milan, he fears there
may be some grounds of apprehension concerning it, as Messer Giovanni
Casale, the Duke's envoy, had been at Forlì for the last two months,
and evidently had much influence there.
It is amusing, knowing as we do right well, what was in the minds of
either party, to read the abundance of complimentary speeches, duly
detailed by the careful secretary, in which all these bargainings were
carefully wrapped up.
At last Macchiavelli writes home to his masters to the effect, that
he thinks they must pay off the old score, and increase their present
offer to twelve thousand ducats. And the treaty was eventually signed
for that amount.
There are signs however in these letters of Macchiavelli, that the
Florentine coffers were really running low. The envoy had been
instructed to ask for a body of 500 troops; and writes back, that they
may be had; and that Catherine will take all care to send picked men,
well armed, and faithful;—_but_ that the cash must be sent beforehand,
five hundred ducats at the least, before a man could march. If the
above sum were sent, they might reckon on having the five hundred
men before Pisa in fifteen days; but the ready cash was an absolute
sine-quâ-non. And the result of this communication from the envoy was,
that the Signory suffered the negociation quietly to drop.
Then come orders to purchase sundry war-stores and ammunitions; to
which the reply is, that Catherine had neither powder nor balls to
spare, being but badly provided for her own exigences. To show however
her wish to do everything in her power for the Republic, Madama had
consented to let the Signory have the half of a parcel of twenty
thousand pounds of nitre, which she had succeeded in purchasing at
Pesaro.
And so on the 25th of July Macchiavelli left Forlì, having been obliged
to yield every point in dispute to our business-like heroine.
[Sidenote: EVIL DAYS.]
But the evil days were at hand. Louis XII., who had succeeded to
Charles VIII., entered into a league with the Venetians and Pope
Alexander, with the understanding that the king should be assisted
in seizing the Duchy of Milan, while Cesare Borgia was to be helped
to possess himself of the various small principalities of Romagna,
specially those of Imola and Forlì. Early in November, Borgia with a
numerous army, chiefly French, appeared before Imola. Ottaviano hurried
thither immediately, and having done what he could to persuade the
little city to make a vigorous defence, returned to the more important
care of preparing Forlì to stand a siege.
Imola surrendered at the first summons of Borgia. But not so did
Dionigi Naldi the _Castellano_ of the fortress. To every threat of the
enemy he replied, that he was determined to do his duty to the last;
and in fact only yielded when the fortress had been battered into ruins
around him.
Meanwhile Madama and her son were taking every means to defend Forlì.
The country was laid waste around, and everything portable brought into
the city. The fortifications were repaired, Ottaviano himself labouring
as a porter to encourage his subjects, and Madama herself personally
superintending the work. But the conduct of Imola made Catherine
feel, that unless the Forlìvesi really intended to stand by her and
defend their city, it would be much wiser to employ all her efforts in
preparing for an obstinate resistance in the fortress, and leave the
town to itself. She therefore determined to call a general council of
the citizens, and invite every one to speak his opinion freely on the
measures to be adopted, for raising the necessary supplies. Her own
plans and intentions were first fully explained, and then any who had
objections to make were desired to speak. Whereupon many rose to put
forward different views, to whom the superior advantages of the lady's
plans were duly pointed out. But it so happened, that the objectors
were still unconvinced. Whereupon Madama became so angered, that "she
regarded this circumstance as an abuse of her kindness; and being
resolved to tolerate such opposition no further, caused a gallows to be
forthwith raised on the piazza, and a rack to be erected by the side of
it; wishing thus to let it be understood to the terror of all, that,
though her goodness was great, it had its limits."[139]
Yet these conciliatory measures do not seem to have had all the
effect that could have been desired on the minds of the citizens.
For notwithstanding the persuasive nature of the arguments mentioned
above, it seems, that the result of one or two other councils of her
lieges finally convinced Catherine that no hope was to be placed in
the fidelity of the city; and that she had nothing to look to but the
strength of the fortress, and her own energy in defending it.
In these nearly desperate circumstances the still undaunted Countess
determined on the 11th of December to send her son away into Tuscany,
that _his_ safety at least might in case of the worst be secured, while
she remained to face the storm. The division between the town and the
citadel now became complete. The citizens made no longer any secret of
their intentions to open their gates to Borgia, and tender him their
allegiance; while all those who were personal adherents of the Riarii,
or who determined still to link their fortunes with that of Madama and
her sons retreated into the fortress.
[Sidenote: CATHERINE AT BAY!]
The citizens had thus abandoned and defied in her danger and extremity
the high-handed and haughty mistress, before whom they had so often
trembled; and were doubtless congratulating themselves in having been
permitted so easily to change their allegiance from a sinking house to
one in the ascendant, when they were suddenly reminded that they were
not yet well "off with the old love," by the opening of the fortress
guns on the city. The astonishment was great, that Catherine, who must
well know that she would shortly have need of every arm and every
ounce of powder she could muster, should thus commence a contest with
a second enemy, as if the Borgia were not enough. But the proud Dame
held that all those who were not for her, were against her; and could
ill brook the disobedience and desertion of her vassals. But this
cannonading her own city, was, under any provocation, an act but poorly
excusable by the motives set forth in its defence by Burriel;—that
the enemy might not suppose that she was an acquiescing party in the
abandonment of the city, or that she was alarmed or discouraged by it.
On the other hand it must not be imagined that the injury inflicted
on the citizens by such a measure was in any way comparable to that
which we naturally picture to ourselves, as the result of firing on a
city from the walls of a fortress. The proportion between the means of
offence and defence at the disposal of European combatants, has for
the last four hundred years been continually changing in favour of
the former. So that the mischief done in a given time by any military
operations is infinitely greater now than was the case when Catherine
battered Forlì.
On the 19th of December Cesare Borgia made his triumphal entry into
Forlì, with all those theatrical circumstances of personal pomp and
bravery which in the conceptions of those peacock-like southern
idiosyncracies form so large and essential portion of the idea of
"greatness." The troops and their officers having filed into the
city before him, the great man,—most wicked, base, and incapable of
any great or noble thought of all men there;—the great man, most
reverenced, admired, and obeyed of all men there, advanced stately in
full armour on a white horse, with an heraldically embroidered silk
tunic over his armour, a tall white plume nodding above his helmet, and
in his hand a long green lance, the point of which rested on the toe of
his boot.
And these well selected properties answered their purpose so perfectly,
that no man in the vast concourse there guessed, that Cesare Borgia
was not a great man, even when to the considerable discomfiture of
all the scenic arrangements a sudden torrent of rain threatened to
wash out all visible distinction between his Highness and ordinary
mortals. The magistrates and deputation of nobles, who were receiving
him at the gate, turned and fled in scamping disorder, each man to
the nearest shelter.[140] Borgia hastily rode round the piazza in
performance of the recognised symbol of taking possession of the city,
and then hurried off to the lodging prepared for him. But the storm
was productive of far more serious evil to the unfortunate townsfolk.
For all the officers, having hurried away to their various quarters,
no one remained to superintend the billeting of the soldiers with any
regularity. And the consequence was, that they rushed pell-mell through
the city, forcing their way into the houses, and finding lodging for
themselves according to their own discretion.
[Sidenote: WILD WORK IN FORLÌ.]
The results of this irruption, and of the license which followed it,
were almost equivalent to the sack of the city. The town became a
perfect hell, writes one chronicler.[141] The shops were gutted. The
_Palazzo Pubblico_ was almost entirely devastated. The great council
hall was turned into a tavern, and all the seats burned. The guard-room
and the offices of the customs were made a slaughter-house; and the
utmost confusion and disorder prevailed everywhere. "In the houses,"
writes Burriel, "neither could any business be carried on, nor could
their inmates even live there, as the soldiers entered in parties, made
themselves masters of everything, and ill-treated the owners;—not to
mention the worse lot of widows, and of those who had daughters, and
could find no place of safety for them."
The citizens began to find that things could hardly have been worse
with them had they rallied round their courageous liege lady, and
bravely defended their walls.
Borgia twice had parley with Madama at his request; and used every
argument to induce her to give up the fortress, wholly in vain. Towards
the end of December the attack was commenced; and for about a week
continued without much result. And then, at the beginning of the new
year and century, a truce was agreed on for a few days. The French
during this time gave themselves up to festivities and amusements,
which seem not a little to have astonished the more civilised Italians.
For instance, writes one of the historians, D'Aubigny and Galvani,
two of Borgia's generals, lodging in the house of Messer Giovanni
Monsignani determined on inviting a party of their brother officers.
A sufficiently ample banqueting hall was provided by boarding up the
arches of the "loggia" or open arcade so common in Italian domestic
architecture; and provision for a feast intended to last two entire
days was obtained at small cost by a razzia upon the peasants. When the
guests arrived, they were followed, we are assured, by a mob of all
sorts of people, who, while the convives sat at table, stood around
eating and drinking all they could lay their hands on. And when the
repast was finished, two men, "according to their barbarous, and truly
too outrageous custom," sprung on the table, and dancing on it, smashed
and destroyed all the plates and other utensils thereon, and threw
the wreck with all the remnant of the eatables to the ground. "Then
came in an exceedingly long procession of men and women," (of whom a
considerable number, it should seem, accompanied the camp;) "driving
before them a man on horseback in a long gown and cap like a mitre on
his head. This procession stood around the tables drinking and making
merry, with much laughter. Then all went out arm in arm, parading
the streets, and roaring out their tasteless disagreeable songs to
the exceeding wonder of the Forlìvesi."[142] We can easily believe
it;—easily imagine too the scene produced by the Lord of Misrule, who
may probably be recognised in the gentleman with the long gown and
mitre, and his roystering crew of roaring swash-bucklers startling
the echoes from the tall stone walls of the old Italian town, amid
the cautious peeping of the scared and scandalised burghers, quite
at a loss to understand the meaning and intention of this strange
manifestation of the barbarians.
[Sidenote: THE BEGINNING OF THE END.]
On the 10th of January, 1500, the attack on the fortress was renewed,
and by mid-day on the 12th, the breach was nearly practicable. Borgia
left the attack, we are told, at that hour, to go to dinner! and while
at table, made a bet of thirty ducats with some of his officers, that
he would have Catherine in his hands within three days. Returning to
the walls, he found that fortune had prepared for him a more rapid
victory than he had hoped for. Either by treachery, as the Forlì
historians, of course, maintain, or by the efforts of the enemy, a
fire had broken out in the fort, which paralysed the garrison; and
driving them from their defences, caused the principal part of the
fortifications to fall into the hands of the enemy.
The case was now clearly hopeless; but Catherine retiring into the
principal tower, still stood at bay. At the same time another tower,
which had served as the magazine, and into which a large number of the
enemy had penetrated, was fired by some of Catherine's people; and all
those within it met with a fearful death. This act of useless cruelty
so exasperated the soldiers of Borgia, that a general massacre of the
garrison was commenced. At this juncture, Borgia once again demanded
to parley with the Countess, who accordingly presented herself at a
window of her tower. They spoke together at length, while he strove to
persuade her of the uselessness of prolonging the struggle. But while
she still stood at the window speaking with him, a French soldier, who
had found some means of entrance into the tower, stepped up behind her,
and made her prisoner in the name of his captain.
All this took place on the afternoon of the 12th of January. Catherine
was that night kept prisoner in the citadel, where Borgia and the
French general visited her, and talked with her, it is recorded, for
more than an hour;—an hour sufficiently bitter, one may suppose, to
that haughty dame, who had to listen to the courtesies of her captors,
while the sounds of falling masonry, and exploding mines, the shouts
of the pursuers, and the cries of the conquered as they fell, ever and
anon came through the thick walls, and gave clear evidence of the work
of destruction which was in progress.
The Forlì historians recount at much length the cruelties and insults
which their forefathers had to suffer from the victorious barbarian
army during several days,—the insatiable rapacity of all classes
of the soldiers, the wanton destruction of that which could not be
appropriated, and the general devastation of the city. But all this is
unhappily too common, and too well known a story, to need repeating
here.
History has for centuries been preaching to mankind from her great
stock text, on war and its consequences;—and at last not so wholly in
vain, as in the good old time. But if so terrible an amount of evil be
inseparable from the most glorious war,—and the valorous assertion of
right, against wrong-doing might is, and must ever be, glorious,—what
shall be said of slaughter-matches, in which no high idea or noble
feeling had any, the least share; by which the basest passions are
intensified, the lowest motives alone brought into action, with only
this distinction, that the higher the social rank of the "noble
soldier," the baser were the objects he proposed to himself as the
prizes of the fight!
[Sidenote: ONCE MORE TO ROME.]
Towards the end of January, Borgia left Forlì, wholly submitted to his
authority, and led away his noble captive to Rome. Catherine, clothed,
it is recorded, in a black satin dress, made the journey on horseback,
riding between her conqueror and one of the French generals. She
arrived in Rome on the 26th of February, 1500. And, as she once again
entered that Porta del Popolo, the dethroned widow can hardly have
failed to contrast the circumstances of her return with those of her
first arrival in the Eternal City.