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The accession of the new sultan, however, had not taken place
with the
tranquillity which his right as elder brother and his father’s
choice of
him should have promised. His younger brother, D’jem, better known
under
the name of Zizimeh, had argued that whereas he was born in
the
purple—that is, born during the reign of Mahomet—Bajazet was born
prior
to his epoch, and was therefore the son of a private individual.
This
was rather a poor trick; but where force is all and right is naught,
it
was good enough to stir up a war. The two brothers, each at the head
of
an army, met accordingly in Asia in 1482. D’jem was defeated after
a
seven hours’ fight, and pursued by his brother, who gave him no time
to
rally his army: he was obliged to embark from Cilicia, and took
refuge
in Rhodes, where he implored the protection of the Knights of St.
John.
They, not daring to give him an asylum in their island so near to
Asia,
sent him to France, where they had him carefully guarded in one of
their
commanderies, in spite of the urgency of Cait Bey, Sultan of Egypt,
who,
having revolted against Bajazet, desired to have the young prince in
his
army to give his rebellion the appearance of legitimate warfare.
The
same demand, moreover, with the same political object, had been
made
successively by Mathias Corvinus, King of Hungary, by Ferdinand, King
of
Aragon and Sicily, and by Ferdinand, King of Naples.
On his side
Bajazet, who knew all the importance of such a rival, if he
once allied
himself with any one of the princes with whom he was at war,
had sent
ambassadors to Charles VIII, offering, if he would consent to
keep D’jem with
him, to give him a considerable pension, and to give to
France the
sovereignty of the Holy Land, so soon as Jerusalem should be
conquered by the
Sultan of Egypt. The King of France had accepted these
terms.
But then
Innocent VIII had intervened, and in his turn had claimed
D’jem, ostensibly
to give support by the claims of the refugee to a
crusade which he was
preaching against the Turks, but in reality to
appropriate the pension of
40,000 ducats to be given by Bajazet to any
one of the Christian princes who
would undertake to be his brother’s
gaoler. Charles VIII had not dared to
refuse to the spiritual head of
Christendom a request supported by such holy
reasons; and therefore
D’jem had quitted France, accompanied by the Grand
Master d’Aubusson,
under whose direct charge he was; but his guardian had
consented, for
the sake of a cardinal’s hat, to yield up his prisoner. Thus,
on the
13th of March, 1489, the unhappy young man, cynosure of so
many
interested eyes, made his solemn entry into Rome, mounted on a
superb
horse, clothed in a magnificent oriental costume, between the Prior
of
Auvergne, nephew of the Grand Master d’Aubusson, and Francesco Cibo,
the
son of the pope.
After this he had remained there, and Bajazet,
faithful to promises
which it was so much his interest to fulfil, had
punctually paid to the
sovereign pontiff a pension of 40,000
ducats.
So much for Turkey.
Ferdinand and Isabella were reigning
in Spain, and were laying the
foundations of that vast power which was
destined, five-and-twenty years
later, to make Charles V declare that the sun
never set on his
dominions. In fact, these two sovereigns, on whom history
has bestowed
the name of Catholic, had reconquered in succession nearly all
Spain,
and driven the Moors out of Granada, their last entrenchment; while
two
men of genius, Bartolome Diaz and Christopher Columbus, had
succeeded,
much to the profit of Spain, the one in recovering a lost world,
the
other in conquering a world yet unknown. They had accordingly, thanks
to
their victories in the ancient world and their discoveries in the
new,
acquired an influence at the court of Rome which had never been
enjoyed
by any of their predecessors.
So much for Spain.
In
France, Charles VIII had succeeded his father, Louis XI, on the 30th
of
August, 1483. Louis by dint of executions, had tranquillised his
kingdom and
smoothed the way for a child who ascended the throne under
the regency of a
woman. And the regency had been a glorious one, and had
put down the
pretensions of princes of the blood, put an end to civil
wars, and united to
the crown all that yet remained of the great
independent fiefs. The result
was that at the epoch where we now are,
here was Charles VIII, about
twenty-two years of age, a prince (if we
are to believe La Tremouille) little
of body but great of heart; a child
(if we are to believe Commines) only now
making his first flight from
the nest, destitute of both sense and money,
feeble in person, full of
self-will, and consorting rather with fools than
with the wise; lastly,
if we are to believe Guicciardini, who was an Italian,
might well have
brought a somewhat partial judgment to bear upon the subject,
a young
man of little wit concerning the actions of men, but carried away by
an
ardent desire for rule and the acquisition of glory, a desire based
far
more on his shallow character and impetuosity than on any
consciousness
of genius: he was an enemy to all fatigue and all business, and
when he
tried to give his attention to it he showed himself always
totally
wanting in prudence and judgment. If anything in him appeared at
first
sight to be worthy of praise, on a closer inspection it was found to
be
something nearer akin to vice than to virtue. He was liberal, it
is
true, but without thought, with no measure and no discrimination. He
was
sometimes inflexible in will; but this was through obstinacy rather
than
a constant mind; and what his flatterers called goodness deserved
far
more the name of insensibility to injuries or poverty of
spirit.
As to his physical appearance, if we are to believe the same
author, it
was still less admirable, and answered marvellously to his
weakness of
mind and character. He was small, with a large head, a short
thick neck,
broad chest, and high shoulders; his thighs and legs were long
and thin;
and as his face also was ugly—and was only redeemed by the dignity
and
force of his glance—and all his limbs were disproportionate with
one
another, he had rather the appearance of a monster than a man. Such
was
he whom Fortune was destined to make a conqueror, for whom Heaven
was
reserving more glory than he had power to carry.
So much for
France.
The Imperial throne was occupied by Frederic III, who had been
rightly
named the Peaceful, not for the reason that he had always
maintained
peace, but because, having constantly been beaten, he had always
been
forced to make it. The first proof he had given of this
very
philosophical forbearance was during his journey to Rome, whither
he
betook himself to be consecrated. In crossing the Apennines he
was
attacked by brigands. They robbed him, but he made no pursuit. And
so,
encouraged by example and by the impunity of lesser thieves, the
greater
ones soon took part in the robberies. Amurath seized part of
Hungary.
Mathias Corvinus took Lower Austria, and Frederic consoled himself
for
these usurpations by repeating the maxim, Forgetfulness is the best
cure
for the losses we suffer. At the time we have now reached, he had
just,
after a reign of fifty-three years, affianced his son Maximilian
to
Marie of Burgundy and had put under the ban of the Empire
his
son-in-law, Albert of Bavaria, who laid claim to the ownership of
the
Tyrol. He was therefore too full of his family affairs to be
troubled
about Italy. Besides, he was busy looking for a motto for the house
of
Austria, an occupation of the highest importance for a man of
the
character of Frederic III. This motto, which Charles V was
destined
almost to render true, was at last discovered, to the great joy of
the
old emperor, who, judging that he had nothing more to do on earth
after
he had given this last proof of sagacity, died on the 19th of
August,
1493; leaving the empire to his son Maximilian.
This motto was
simply founded on the five vowels, a, e, i, o, u, the
initial letters of
these five words
"AUSTRIAE EST IMPERARE ORBI UNIVERSO."
This
means
"It is the destiny of Austria to rule over the whole
world."
So much for Germany.
Now that we have cast a glance over
the four nations which were on the
way, as we said before, to become European
Powers, let us turn our
attention to those secondary States which formed a
circle more
contiguous to Rome, and whose business it was to serve as armour,
so to
speak, to the spiritual queen of the world, should it please any
of
these political giants whom we have described to make encroachments
with
a view to an attack, on the seas or the mountains, the Adriatic Gulf
or
the Alps, the Mediterranean or the Apennines.
These were the
kingdom of Naples, the duchy of Milan, the magnificent
republic of Florence,
and the most serene republic of Venice.
The kingdom of Naples was in the
hands of the old Ferdinand, whose birth
was not only illegitimate, but
probably also well within the prohibited
degrees. His father, Alfonso of
Aragon, received his crown from Giovanna
of Naples, who had adopted him as
her successor. But since, in the fear
of having no heir, the queen on her
deathbed had named two instead of
one, Alfonso had to sustain his rights
against Rene. The two aspirants
for some time disputed the crown. At last the
house of Aragon carried
the day over the house of Anjou, and in the course of
the year 1442,
Alfonso definitely secured his seat on the throne. Of this
sort were the
claims of the defeated rival which we shall see Charles VIII
maintaining
later on. Ferdinand had neither the courage nor the genius of
his
father, and yet he triumphed over his enemies, one after another he
had
two rivals, both far superior in merit to him self. The one was
his
nephew, the Count of Viana, who, basing his claim on his
uncle’s
shameful birth, commanded the whole Aragonese party; the other was
Duke
John of Calabria, who commanded the whole Angevin party. Still
he
managed to hold the two apart, and to keep himself on the throne by
dint
of his prudence, which often verged upon duplicity. He had a
cultivated
mind, and had studied the sciences—above all, law. He was of
middle
height, with a large handsome head, his brow open and admirably
framed
in beautiful white hair, which fell nearly down to his
shoulders.
Moreover, though he had rarely exercised his physical strength in
arms,
this strength was so great that one day, when he happened to be on
the
square of the Mercato Nuovo at Naples, he seized by the horns a
bull
that had escaped and stopped him short, in spite of all the efforts
the
animal made to escape from his hands. Now the election of Alexander
had
caused him great uneasiness, and in spite of his usual prudence he
had
not been able to restrain himself from saying before the bearer of
the
news that not only did he fail to rejoice in this election, but
also
that he did not think that any Christian could rejoice in it,
seeing
that Borgia, having always been a bad man, would certainly make a
bad
pope. To this he added that, even were the choice an excellent one
and
such as would please everybody else, it would be none the less fatal
to
the house of Aragon, although Roderigo was born her subject and owed
to
her the origin and progress of his fortunes; for wherever reasons
of
state come in, the ties of blood and parentage are soon forgotten,
and,
’a fortiori’, relations arising from the obligations of
nationality.
Thus, one may see that Ferdinand judged Alexander VI with
his usual
perspicacity; this, however, did not hinder him, as we shall
soon
perceive, from being the first to contract an alliance with
him.
The duchy of Milan belonged nominally to John Galeazzo, grandson
of
Francesco Sforza, who had seized it by violence on the 26th of
February,
1450, and bequeathed it to his son, Galeazzo Maria, father of the
young
prince now reigning; we say nominally, because the real master of
the
Milanese was at this period not the legitimate heir who was supposed
to
possess it, but his uncle Ludovico, surnamed ’il Moro’, because of
the
mulberry tree which he bore in his arms. After being exiled with his
two
brothers, Philip who died of poison in 1479, and Ascanio who became
the
cardinal, he returned to Milan some days after the assassination
of
Galeazzo Maria, which took place on the 26th of December 1476, in
St.
Stephen’s Church, and assumed the regency for the young duke, who
at
that time was only eight years old. From now onward, even after
his
nephew had reached the age of two-and-twenty, Ludovico continued
to
rule, and according to all probabilities was destined to rule a
long
time yet; for, some days after the poor young man had shown a desire
to
take the reins himself, he had fallen sick, and it was said, and not
in
a whisper, that he had taken one of those slow but mortal poisons
of
which princes made so frequent a use at this period, that, even when
a
malady was natural, a cause was always sought connected with some
great
man’s interests. However it may have been, Ludovico had relegated
his
nephew, now too weak to busy himself henceforward with the affairs
of
his duchy, to the castle of Pavia, where he lay and languished under
the
eyes of his wife Isabella, daughter of King Ferdinand of
Naples.
As to Ludovico, he was an ambitious man, full of courage and
astuteness,
familiar with the sword and with poison, which he used
alternately,
according to the occasion, without feeling any repugnance or
any
predilection for either of them; but quite decided to be his
nephew’s
heir whether he died or lived.
Florence, although she had
preserved the name of a republic, had little
by little lost all her
liberties, and belonged in fact, if not by right,
to Piero dei Medici, to
whom she had been bequeathed as a paternal
legacy by Lorenzo, as we have
seen, at the risk of his soul’s salvation.
The son, unfortunately, was
far from having the genius of his father: he
was handsome, it is true,
whereas Lorenzo, on the contrary, was
remarkably ugly; he had an agreeable,
musical voice, whereas Lorenzo had
always spoken through his nose; he was
instructed in Latin and Greek,
his conversation was pleasant and easy, and he
improvised verses almost
as well as the so-called Magnificent; but he was
both ignorant of
political affairs and haughtily insolent in his behaviour to
those who
had made them their study. Added to this, he was an ardent lover
of
pleasure, passionately addicted to women, incessantly occupied
with
bodily exercises that should make him shine in their eyes, above
all
with tennis, a game at which he very highly excelled: he
promised
himself that, when the period of mourning was fast, he would occupy
the
attention not only of Florence but of the whole of Italy, by
the
splendour of his courts and the renown of his fetes. Piero dei
Medici
had at any rate formed this plan; but Heaven decreed
otherwise.
As to the most serene republic of Venice, whose doge was
Agostino
Barbarigo, she had attained, at the time we have reached, to her
highest
degree of power and splendour. From Cadiz to the Palus Maeotis,
there
was no port that was not open to her thousand ships; she possessed
in
Italy, beyond the coastline of the canals and the ancient duchy
of
Venice, the provinces of Bergamo, Brescia, Crema, Verona, Vicenza,
and
Padua; she owned the marches of Treviso, which comprehend the
districts
of Feltre, Belluno, Cadore, Polesella of Rovigo, and the
principality of
Ravenna; she also owned the Friuli, except Aquileia; Istria,
except
Trieste; she owned, on the east side of the Gulf, Zara, Spalatra,
and
the shore of Albania; in the Ionian Sea, the islands of Zante and
Corfu;
in Greece, Lepanto and Patras; in the Morea, Morone, Corone,
Neapolis,
and Argos; lastly, in the Archipelago, besides several little towns
and
stations on the coast, she owned Candia and the kingdom of
Cyprus.
Thus from the mouth of the Po to the eastern extremity of
the
Mediterranean, the most serene republic was mistress of the
whole
coastline, and Italy and Greece seemed to be mere suburbs of
Venice.
In the intervals of space left free between Naples, Milan,
Florence, and
Venice, petty tyrants had arisen who exercised an absolute
sovereignty
over their territories: thus the Colonnas were at Ostia and at
Nettuna,
the Montefeltri at Urbino, the Manfredi at Faenza, the Bentivogli
at
Bologna, the Malatesta family at Rimini, the Vitelli at Citta
di
Castello, the Baglioni at Perugia, the Orsini at Vicovaro, and
the
princes of Este at Ferrara.
Finally, in the centre of this immense
circle, composed of great Powers,
of secondary States, and of little
tyrannies, Rome was set on high, the
most exalted, yet the weakest of all,
without influence, without lands,
without an army, without gold. It was the
concern of the new pope to
secure all this: let us see, therefore, what
manner of man was this
Alexander VI, for undertaking and accomplishing such a
project.
CHAPTER III
RODERIGO LENZUOLO was barn at
Valencia, in Spain, in 1430 or 1431, and
on his mother’s side was descended,
as some writers declare, of a family
of royal blood, which had cast its eyes
on the tiara only after
cherishing hopes of the crowns of Aragon and
Valencia. Roderigo from his
infancy had shown signs of a marvellous quickness
of mind, and as he
grew older he exhibited an intelligence extremely apt far
the study of
sciences, especially law and jurisprudence: the result was that
his
first distinctions were gained in the law, a profession wherein he
soon
made a great reputation by his ability in the discussion of the
most
thorny cases. All the same, he was not slow to leave this career,
and
abandoned it quite suddenly far the military profession, which
his
father had followed; but after various actions which served to
display
his presence of mind and courage, he was as much disgusted with
this
profession as with the other; and since it happened that at the
very
time he began to feel this disgust his father died, leaving
a
considerable fortune, he resolved to do no more work, but to
live
according to his own fancies and caprices. About this time he became
the
lover of a widow who had two daughters. The widow dying, Roderigo
took
the girls under his protection, put one into a convent, and as the
other
was one of the loveliest women imaginable, made her his mistress.
This
was the notorious Rosa Vanozza, by whom he had five
children—Francesco,
Caesar, Lucrezia, and Goffredo; the name of the fifth is
unknown.
Roderigo, retired from public affairs, was given up entirely to
the
affections of a lover and a father, when he heard that his uncle,
who
loved him like a son, had been elected pope under the name of
Calixtus
III. But the young man was at this time so much a lover that
love
imposed silence on ambition; and indeed he was almost terrified at
the
exaltation of his uncle, which was no doubt destined to force him
once
more into public life. Consequently, instead of hurrying to Rome,
as
anyone else in his place would have done, he was content to indite
to
His Holiness a letter in which he begged for the continuation of
his
favours, and wished him a long and happy reign.
This reserve on
the part of one of his relatives, contrasted with the
ambitious schemes which
beset the new pope at every step, struck
Calixtus III in a singular way: he
knew the stuff that was in young
Roderigo, and at a time when he was besieged
on all sides by
mediocrities, this powerful nature holding modestly aside
gained new
grandeur in his eyes so he replied instantly to Roderigo that on
the
receipt of his letter he must quit Spain for Italy, Valencia for
Rome.
This letter uprooted Roderigo from the centre of happiness he
had
created for himself, and where he might perhaps have slumbered on
like
an ordinary man, if fortune had not thus interposed to drag him
forcibly
away. Roderigo was happy, Roderigo was rich; the evil passions
which
were natural to him had been, if not extinguished,—at least lulled;
he
was frightened himself at the idea of changing the quiet life he
was
leading for the ambitious, agitated career that was promised him;
and
instead of obeying his uncle, he delayed the preparations for
departure,
hoping that Calixtus would forget him. It was not so: two months
after
he received the letter from the pope, there arrived at Valencia
a
prelate from Rome, the bearer of Roderigo’s nomination to a
benefice
worth 20,000 ducats a year, and also a positive order to the holder
of
the post to come and take possession of his charge as soon as
possible.
Holding back was no longer feasible: so Roderigo obeyed; but as
he did
not wish to be separated from the source whence had sprung eight
years
of happiness, Rosa Vanozza also left Spain, and while he was going
to
Rome, she betook herself to Venice, accompanied by two
confidential
servants, and under the protection of a Spanish gentleman named
Manuel
Melchior.
Fortune kept the promises she had made to Roderigo:
the pope received
him as a son, and made him successively Archbishop of
Valencia,
Cardinal-Deacon, and Vice-Chancellor. To all these favours
Calixtus
added a revenue of 20,000 ducats, so that at the age of
scarcely
thirty-five Roderigo found himself the equal of a prince in riches
and
power.
Roderigo had had some reluctance about accepting the
cardinalship, which
kept him fast at Rome, and would have preferred to be
General of the
Church, a position which would have allowed him more liberty
for seeing
his mistress and his family; but his uncle Calixtus made him
reckon with
the possibility of being his successor some day, and from that
moment
the idea of being the supreme head of kings and nations took such
hold
of Roderigo, that he no longer had any end in view but that which
his
uncle had made him entertain.
From that day forward, there began
to grow up in the young cardinal that
talent for hypocrisy which made of him
the most perfect incarnation of
the devil that has perhaps ever existed; and
Roderigo was no longer the
same man: with words of repentance and humility on
his lips, his head
bowed as though he were bearing the weight of his past
sins, disparaging
the riches which he had acquired and which, according to
him, were the
wealth of the poor and ought to return to the poor, he passed
his life
in churches, monasteries, and hospitals, acquiring, his historian
tells
us, even in the eyes of his enemies, the reputation of a Solomon
for
wisdom, of a Job for patience, and of a very Moses for his
promulgation
of the word of God: Rosa Vanozza was the only person in the
world who
could appreciate the value of this pious cardinal’s
conversion.
It proved a lucky thing for Roderiga that he had assumed this
pious
attitude, for his protector died after a reign of three years
three
months and nineteen days, and he was now sustained by his own
merit
alone against the numerous enemies he had made by his rapid rise
to
fortune: so during the whole of the reign of Pius II he lived
always
apart from public affairs, and only reappeared in the days of Sixtus
IV,
who made him the gift of the abbacy of Subiaco, and sent him in
the
capacity of ambassador to the kings of Aragon and Portugal. On
his
return, which took place during the pontificate of Innocent VIII,
he
decided to fetch his family at last to Rome: thither they came,
escorted
by Don Manuel Melchior, who from that moment passed as the husband
of
Rosa Vanozza, and took the name of Count Ferdinand of Castile.
The
Cardinal Roderigo received the noble Spaniard as a countryman and
a
friend; and he, who expected to lead a most retired life, engaged
a
house in the street of the Lungara, near the church of Regina Coeli,
on
the banks of the Tiber. There it was that, after passing the day
in
prayers and pious works, Cardinal Roderigo used to repair each
evening
and lay aside his mask. And it was said, though nobody could prove
it,
that in this house infamous scenes passed: Report said the
dissipations
were of so dissolute a character that their equals had never
been seen
in Rome. With a view to checking the rumours that began to
spread
abroad, Roderigo sent Caesar to study at Pisa, and married Lucrezia to
a
young gentleman of Aragon; thus there only remained at home Rosa
Vanozza
and her two sons: such was the state of things when Innocent VIII
died
and Roderigo Borgia was proclaimed pope.
We have seen by what
means the nomination was effected; and so the five
cardinals who had taken no
part in this simony—namely, the Cardinals of
Naples, Sierra, Portugal, Santa
Maria-in-Porticu, and St.
Peter-in-Vinculis—protested loudly against this
election, which they
treated as a piece of jobbery; but Roderigo had none the
less, however
it was done, secured his majority; Roderigo was none the less
the two
hundred and sixtieth successor of St. Peter.
Alexander VI,
however, though he had arrived at his object, did not dare
throw off at first
the mask which the Cardinal Bargia had worn so long,
although when he was
apprised of his election he could not dissimulate
his joy; indeed, on hearing
the favourable result of the scrutiny, he
lifted his hands to heaven and
cried, in the accents of satisfied
ambition, "Am I then pope? Am I then
Christ’s vicar? Am I then the
keystone of the Christian world?"
"Yes,
holy father," replied Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, the same who had
sold to
Roderigo the nine votes that were at his disposal at the
Conclave for four
mules laden with silver; "and we hope by your election
to give glory to God,
repose to the Church, and joy to Christendom,
seeing that you have been
chosen by the Almighty Himself as the most
worthy among all your
brethren."
But in the short interval occupied by this reply, the new pope
had
already assumed the papal authority, and in a humble voice and
with
hands crossed upon his breast, he spoke:
"We hope that God will
grant us His powerful aid, in spite of our
weakness, and that He will do for
us that which He did for the apostle
when aforetime He put into his hands the
keys of heaven and entrusted to
him the government of the Church, a
government which without the aid of
God would prove too heavy a burden for
mortal man; but God promised that
His Spirit should direct him; God will do
the same, I trust, for us; and
for your part we fear not lest any of you fail
in that holy obedience
which is due unto the head of the Church, even as the
flock of Christ
was bidden to follow the prince of the
apostles."
Having spoken these words, Alexander donned the pontifical
robes, and
through the windows of the Vatican had strips of paper thrown out
on
which his name was written in Latin. These, blown by the wind, seemed
to
convey to the whole world the news of the great event which was about
to
change the face of Italy. The same day couriers started far all
the
courts of Europe.
Caesar Borgia learned the news of his father’s
election at the
University of Pisa, where he was a student. His ambition had
sometimes
dreamed of such good fortune, yet his joy was little short of
madness.
He was then a young man, about twenty-two or twenty-four years of
age,
skilful in all bodily exercises, and especially in fencing; he
could
ride barebacked the most fiery steeds, could cut off the head of a
bull
at a single sword-stroke; moreover, he was arrogant, jealous,
and
insincere. According to Tammasi, he was great among the godless, as
his
brother Francesco was good among the great. As to his face,
even
contemporary authors have left utterly different descriptions; for
same
have painted him as a monster of ugliness, while others, on
the
contrary, extol his beauty. This contradiction is due to the fact
that
at certain times of the year, and especially in the spring, his face
was
covered with an eruption which, so long as it lasted, made him an
object
of horror and disgust, while all the rest of the year he was the
sombre,
black-haired cavalier with pale skin and tawny beard whom Raphael
shows
us in the fine portrait he made of him. And historians, both
chroniclers
and painters, agree as to his fixed and powerful gaze, behind
which
burned a ceaseless flame, giving to his face something infernal
and
superhuman. Such was the man whose fortune was to fulfil all
his
desires. He had taken for his motto, ’Aut Caesar, aut nihil’: Caesar
or
nothing.
Caesar posted to Rome with certain of his friends, and
scarcely was he
recognised at the gates of the city when the deference shown
to him gave
instant proof of the change in his fortunes: at the Vatican the
respect
was twice as great; mighty men bowed down before him as before
one
mightier than themselves. And so, in his impatience, he stayed not
to
visit his mother or any other member of his family, but went straight
to
the pope to kiss his feet; and as the pope had been forewarned of
his
coming, he awaited him in the midst of a brilliant and
numerous
assemblage of cardinals, with the three other brothers standing
behind
him. His Holiness received Caesar with a gracious countenance; still,
he
did not allow himself any demonstration of his paternal love,
but,
bending towards him, kissed him an the forehead, and inquired how he
was
and how he had fared on his journey. Caesar replied that he
was
wonderfully well, and altogether at the service of His Holiness:
that,
as to the journey, the trifling inconveniences and short fatigue
had
been compensated, and far mare than compensated, by the joy which
he
felt in being able to adore upon the papal throne a pope who was
so
worthy. At these words, leaving Caesar still on his knees, and
reseating
himself—for he had risen from his seat to embrace him—the pope
assumed a
grave and composed expression of face, and spoke as follows, loud
enough
to be heard by all, and slowly enough far everyone present to be able
to
ponder and retain in his memory even the least of his words:
"We
are convinced, Caesar, that you are peculiarly rejoiced in beholding
us on
this sublime height, so far above our deserts, whereto it has
pleased the
Divine goodness to exalt us. This joy of yours is first of
all our due
because of the love we have always borne you and which we
bear you still, and
in the second place is prompted by your own personal
interest, since
henceforth you may feel sure of receiving from our
pontifical hand those
benefits which your own good works shall deserve.
But if your joy—and this we
say to you as we have even now said to your
brothers—if your joy is founded
on ought else than this, you are very
greatly mistaken, Caesar, and you will
find yourself sadly deceived.
Perhaps we have been ambitious—we confess this
humbly before the face of
all men—passionately and immoderately ambitious to
attain to the dignity
of sovereign pontiff, and to reach this end we have
followed every path
that is open to human industry; but we have acted thus,
vowing an inward
vow that when once we had reached our goal, we would follow
no other
path but that which conduces best to the service of God and to
the
advancement of the Holy See, so that the glorious memory of the
deeds
that we shall do may efface the shameful recollection of the deeds
we
have already done. Thus shall we, let us hope, leave to those who
follow
us a track where upon if they find not the footsteps of a saint,
they
may at least tread in the path of a true pontiff. God, who has
furthered
the means, claims at our hands the fruits, and we desire to
discharge to
the full this mighty debt that we have incurred to Him; and
accordingly
we refuse to arouse by any deceit the stern rigour of His
judgments. One
sole hindrance could have power to shake our good intentions,
and that
might happen should we feel too keen an interest in your
fortunes.
Therefore are we armed beforehand against our love, and therefore
have
we prayed to God beforehand that we stumble not because of you; for
in
the path of favouritism a pope cannot slip without a fall, and
cannot
fall without injury and dishonour to the Holy See. Even to the end
of
our life we shall deplore the faults which have brought this
experience
home to us; and may it please Gad that our uncle Calixtus of
blessed
memory bear not this day in purgatory the burden of our sins,
more
heavy, alas, than his own! Ah, he was rich in every virtue, he was
full
of good intentions; but he loved too much his own people, and among
them
he loved me chief. And so he suffered this love to lead him
blindly
astray, all this love that he bore to his kindred, who to him were
too
truly flesh of his flesh, so that he heaped upon the heads of a
few
persons only, and those perhaps the least worthy, benefits which
would
more fittingly have rewarded the deserts of many. In truth, he
bestowed
upon our house treasures that should never have been amassed at
the
expense of the poor, or else should have been turned to a
better
purpose. He severed from the ecclesiastical State, already weak
and
poor, the duchy of Spoleto and other wealthy properties, that he
might
make them fiefs to us; he confided to our weak hands
the
vice-chancellorship, the vice-prefecture of Rome, the generalship of
the
Church, and all the other most important offices, which, instead
of
being monopolised by us, should have been conferred on those who
were
most meritorious. Moreover, there were persons who were raised on
our
recommendation to posts of great dignity, although they had no
claims
but such as our undue partiality accorded them; others were left
out
with no reason for their failure except the jealousy excited in us
by
their virtues. To rob Ferdinand of Aragon of the kingdom of
Naples,
Calixtus kindled a terrible war, which by a happy issue only served
to
increase our fortune, and by an unfortunate issue must have
brought
shame and disaster upon the Holy See. Lastly, by allowing himself to
be
governed by men who sacrificed public good to their private
interests,
he inflicted an injury, not only upon the pontifical throne and
his own
reputation, but what is far worse, far more deadly, upon his
own
conscience. And yet, O wise judgments of God! hard and
incessantly
though he toiled to establish our fortunes, scarcely had he left
empty
that supreme seat which we occupy to-day, when we were cast down
from
the pinnacle whereon we had climbed, abandoned to the fury of the
rabble
and the vindictive hatred of the Roman barons, who chose to
feel
offended by our goodness to their enemies. Thus, not only, we tell
you,
Caesar, not only did we plunge headlong from the summit of our
grandeur,
losing the worldly goods and dignities which our uncle had heaped
at our
feet, but for very peril of our life we were condemned to a
voluntary
exile, we and our friends, and in this way only did we contrive
to
escape the storm which our too good fortune had stirred up against
us.
Now this is a plain proof that God mocks at men’s designs when they
are
bad ones. How great an error is it for any pope to devote more care
to
the welfare of a house, which cannot last more than a few years, than
to
the glory of the Church, which will last for ever! What utter folly
for
any public man whose position is not inherited and cannot be
bequeathed
to his posterity, to support the edifice of his grandeur on any
other
basis than the noblest virtue practised for the general good, and
to
suppose that he can ensure the continuance of his own fortune
otherwise
than by taking all precautions against sudden whirlwinds which are
want
to arise in the midst of a calm, and to blow up the storm-clouds I
mean
the host of enemies. Now any one of these enemies who does his worst
can
cause injuries far more powerful than any help that is at all likely
to
come from a hundred friends and their lying promises. If you and
your
brothers walk in the path of virtue which we shall now open for
you,
every wish of your heart shall be instantly accomplished; but if
you
take the other path, if you have ever hoped that our affection will
wink
at disorderly life, then you will very soon find out that we are
truly
pope, Father of the Church, not father of the family; that, vicar
of
Christ as we are, we shall act as we deem best for Christendom, and
not
as you deem best for your own private good. And now that we have come
to
a thorough understanding, Caesar, receive our pontifical blessing."
And
with these words, Alexander VI rose up, laid his hands upon his
son’s
head, for Caesar was still kneeling, and then retired into
his
apartments, without inviting him to follow.
The young man remained
awhile stupefied at this discourse, so utterly
unexpected, so utterly
destructive at one fell blow to his most
cherished hopes. He rose giddy and
staggering like a drunken man, and at
once leaving the Vatican, hurried to
his mother, whom he had forgotten
before, but sought now in his despair. Rosa
Vanozza possessed all the
vices and all the virtues of a Spanish courtesan;
her devotion to the
Virgin amounted to superstition, her fondness for her
children to
weakness, and her love for Roderigo to sensuality. In the depth
of her
heart she relied on the influence she had been able to exercise over
him
for nearly thirty years; and like a snake, she knew haw to envelop
him
in her coils when the fascination of her glance had lost its power.
Rosa
knew of old the profound hypocrisy of her lover, and thus she was in
no
difficulty about reassuring Caesar.
Lucrezia was with her mother
when Caesar arrived; the two young people
exchanged a lover-like kiss beneath
her very eyes: and before he left
Caesar had made an appointment for the same
evening with Lucrezia, who
was now living apart from her husband, to whom
Roderigo paid a pension
in her palace of the Via del Pelegrino, opposite the
Campo dei Fiori,
and there enjoying perfect liberty.
In the evening,
at the hour fixed, Caesar appeared at Lucrezia’s; but he
found there his
brother Francesco. The two young men had never been
friends. Still, as their
tastes were very different, hatred with
Francesco was only the fear of the
deer for the hunter; but with Caesar
it was the desire for vengeance and that
lust for blood which lurks
perpetually in the heart of a tiger. The two
brothers none the less
embraced, one from general kindly feeling, the other
from hypocrisy; but
at first sight of one another the sentiment of a double
rivalry, first
in their father’s and then in their sister’s good graces, had
sent the
blood mantling to the cheek of Francesco, and called a deadly
pallor
into Caesar’s. So the two young men sat on, each resolved not to be
the
first to leave, when all at once there was a knock at the door, and
a
rival was announced before whom both of them were bound to give way:
it
was their father.
Rosa Vanazza was quite right in comforting
Caesar. Indeed, although
Alexander VI had repudiated the abuses of nepotism,
he understood very
well the part that was to be played for his benefit by his
sons and his
daughter; for he knew he could always count on Lucrezia and
Caesar, if
not on Francesco and Goffredo. In these matters the sister was
quite
worthy of her brother. Lucrezia was wanton in imagination, godless
by
nature, ambitious and designing: she had a craving for
pleasure,
admiration, honours, money, jewels, gorgeous stuffs, and
magnificent
mansions. A true Spaniard beneath her golden tresses, a
courtesan
beneath her frank looks, she carried the head of a Raphael Madonna,
and
concealed the heart of a Messalina. She was dear to Roderigo both
as
daughter and as mistress, and he saw himself reflected in her as in
a
magic mirror, every passion and every vice. Lucrezia and Caesar
were
accordingly the best beloved of his heart, and the three composed
that
diabolical trio which for eleven years occupied the pontifical
throne,
like a mocking parody of the heavenly Trinity.
Nothing
occurred at first to give the lie to Alexander’s professions of
principle in
the discourse he addressed to Caesar, and the first year of
his pontificate
exceeded all the hopes of Rome at the time of his
election. He arranged for
the provision of stores in the public
granaries with such liberality, that
within the memory of man there had
never been such astonishing abundance; and
with a view to extending the
general prosperity to the lowest class, he
organised numerous doles to
be paid out of his private fortune, which made it
possible for the very
poor to participate in the general banquet from which
they had been
excluded for long enough. The safety of the city was secured,
from the
very first days of his accession, by the establishment of a strong
and
vigilant police force, and a tribunal consisting of four magistrates
of
irreproachable character, empowered to prosecute all nocturnal
crimes,
which during the last pontificate had been so common that their
very
numbers made impunity certain: these judges from the first showed
a
severity which neither the rank nor the purse of the culprit
could
modify. This presented such a great contrast to the corruption of
the
last reign,—in the course of which the vice-chamberlain one day
remarked
in public, when certain people were complaining of the venality
of
justice, "God wills not that a sinner die, but that he live
and
pay,"—that the capital of the Christian world felt for one brief
moment
restored to the happy days of the papacy. So, at the end of a
year,
Alexander VI had reconquered that spiritual credit, so to speak,
which
his predecessors lost. His political credit was still to be
established,
if he was to carry out the first part of his gigantic scheme. To
arrive
at this, he must employ two agencies—alliances and conquests. His
plan
was to begin with alliances. The gentleman of Aragon who had
married
Lucrezia when she was only the daughter of Cardinal Roderigo Borgia
was
not a man powerful enough, either by birth and fortune or by
intellect,
to enter with any sort of effect into the plots and plans of
Alexander
VI; the separation was therefore changed into a divorce, and
Lucrezia
Borgia was now free to remarry. Alexander opened up two negotiations
at
the same time: he needed an ally to keep a watch on the policy of
the
neighbouring States. John Sforza, grandson of Alexander Sforza,
brother
of the great Francis I, Duke of Milan, was lord of Pesaro;
the
geographical situation of this place, an the coast, on the way
between
Florence and Venice, was wonderfully convenient for his purpose;
so
Alexander first cast an eye upon him, and as the interest of
both
parties was evidently the same, it came about that John Sforza was
very
soon Lucrezia’s second husband.
At the same time overtures had
been made to Alfonso of Aragon, heir
presumptive to the crown of Naples, to
arrange a marriage between Dana
Sancia, his illegitimate daughter, and
Goffreda, the pope’s third son;
but as the old Ferdinand wanted to make the
best bargain he could out of
it; he dragged on the negotiations as long as
possible, urging that the
two children were not of marriageable age, and so,
highly honoured as he
felt in such a prospective alliance, there was no hurry
about the
engagement. Matters stopped at this point, to the great annoyance
of
Alexander VI, who saw through this excuse, and understood that
the
postponement was nothing more or less than a refusal.
Accordingly
Alexander and Ferdinand remained in statu quo, equals in the
political
game, both on the watch till events should declare for one or
other. The
turn of fortune was for Alexander.
Italy, though tranquil,
was instinctively conscious that her calm was
nothing but the lull which goes
before a storm. She was too rich and too
happy to escape the envy of other
nations. As yet the plains of Pisa had
not been reduced to marsh-lands by the
combined negligence and jealousy
of the Florentine Republic, neither had the
rich country that lay around
Rome been converted into a barren desert by the
wars of the Colonna and
Orsini families; not yet had the Marquis of Marignan
razed to the ground
a hundred and twenty villages in the republic of Siena
alone; and though
the Maremma was unhealthy, it was not yet a poisonous
marsh: it is a
fact that Flavio Blando, writing in 1450, describes Ostia as
being
merely less flourishing than in the days of the Romans, when she
had
numbered 50,000 inhabitants, whereas now in our own day there are
barely
30 in all.
The Italian peasants were perhaps the most blest on
the face of the
earth: instead of living scattered about the country in
solitary
fashion, they lived in villages that were enclosed by walls as
a
protection for their harvests, animals, and farm implements;
their
houses—at any rate those that yet stand—prove that they lived in
much
more comfortable and beautiful surroundings than the ordinary
townsman
of our day. Further, there was a community of interests, and many
people
collected together in the fortified villages, with the result
that
little by little they attained to an importance never acquired by
the
boorish French peasants or the German serfs; they bore arms, they had
a
common treasury, they elected their own magistrates, and whenever
they
went out to fight, it was to save their common country.
Also
commerce was no less flourishing than agriculture; Italy at this
period was
rich in industries—silk, wool, hemp, fur, alum, sulphur,
bitumen; those
products which the Italian soil could not bring forth
were imported, from the
Black Sea, from Egypt, from Spain, from France,
and often returned whence
they came, their worth doubled by labour and
fine workmanship. The rich man
brought his merchandise, the poor his
industry: the one was sure of finding
workmen, the other was sure of
finding work.
Art also was by no means
behindhand: Dante, Giotto, Brunelleschi, and
Donatello were dead, but
Ariosto, Raphael, Bramante, and Michael Angelo
were now living. Rome,
Florence, and Naples had inherited the
masterpieces of antiquity; and the
manuscripts of AEschylus, Sophocles,
and Euripides had come (thanks to the
conquest of Mahomet II) to rejoin
the statue of Xanthippus and the works of
Phidias and Praxiteles. The
principal sovereigns of Italy had come to
understand, when they let
their eyes dwell upon the fat harvests, the wealthy
villages, the
flourishing manufactories, and the marvellous churches, and
then
compared with them the poor and rude nations of fighting men
who
surrounded them on all sides, that some day or other they were
destined
to become for other countries what America was for Spain, a
vast
gold-mine for them to work. In consequence of this, a league
offensive
and defensive had been signed, about 1480, by Naples, Milan,
Florence,
and Ferrara, prepared to take a stand against enemies within or
without,
in Italy or outside. Ludovico Sforza, who was more than anyone
else
interested in maintaining this league, because he was nearest to
France,
whence the storm seemed to threaten, saw in the new pope’s
election
means not only of strengthening the league, but of making its power
and
unity conspicuous in the sight of Europe.
CHAPTER
IV
On the occasion of each new election to the papacy, it is the
custom for
all the Christian States to send a solemn embassy to Rome, to
renew
their oath of allegiance to the Holy Father. Ludovico Sforza
conceived
the idea that the ambassadors of the four Powers should unite and
make
their entry into Rome on the same day, appointing one of their
envoy,
viz. the representative of the King of Naples, to be spokesman for
all
four. Unluckily, this plan did not agree with the magnificent
projects
of Piero dei Medici. That proud youth, who had been appointed
ambassador
of the Florentine Republic, had seen in the mission entrusted to
him by
his fellow-citizens the means of making a brilliant display of his
own
wealth. From the day of his nomination onwards, his palace
was
constantly filled with tailors, jewellers, and merchants of
priceless
stuffs; magnificent clothes had been made for him, embroidered
with
precious stones which he had selected from the family treasures. All
his
jewels, perhaps the richest in Italy, were distributed about
the
liveries of his pages, and one of them, his favourite, was to wear
a
collar of pearls valued by itself at 100,000 ducats, or almost,
a
million of our francs. In his party the Bishop of Arezzo, Gentile,
who
had once been Lorenzo dei Medici’s tutor, was elected as
second
ambassador, and it was his duty to speak. Now Gentile, who had
prepared
his speech, counted on his eloquence to charm the ear quite as much
as
Piero counted on his riches to dazzle the eye. But the eloquence
of
Gentile would be lost completely if nobody was to speak but
the
ambassador of the King of Naples; and the magnificence of Piero
dei
Medici would never be noticed at all if he went to Rome mixed up
with
all the other ambassadors. These two important interests, compromised
by
the Duke of Milan’s proposition, changed the whole face of Italy. |
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