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But the Duke of Valentinois, eager to keep as warm as possible
his great
friendship with his ally and relative Louis XII, was, as we
know,
staying with him at Milan so long as he remained there, where, after
a
month’s occupation, the king retraced his steps to his own capital,
the
Duke of Valentinois ordered his men-at-arms and his Swiss to await
him
between Parma and Modena, and departed posthaste for Rome, to
explain
his plans to his father viva voce and to receive his final
instructions.
When he arrived, he found that the fortune of his sister
Lucrezia had
been greatly augmented in his absence, not from the side of her
husband
Alfonso, whose future was very uncertain now in consequence of
Louis’s
successes, which had caused some coolness between Alfonso and the
pope,
but from her father’s side, upon whom at this time she exercised
an
influence mare astonishing than ever. The pope had declared
Lucrezia
Borgia of Aragon life-governor of Spoleto and its duchy, with
all
emoluments, rights, and revenues accruing thereunto. This had so
greatly
increased her power and improved her position, that in these days
she
never showed herself in public without a company of two hundred
horses
ridden by the most illustrious ladies and noblest knights of
Rome.
Moreover, as the twofold affection of her father was a secret to
nobody,
the first prelates in the Church, the frequenters of the Vatican,
the
friends of His Holiness, were all her most humble servants;
cardinals
gave her their hands when she stepped from her litter or her
horse,
archbishops disputed the honour of celebrating mass in her
private
apartments.
But Lucrezia had been obliged to quit Rome in
order to take possession
of her new estates; and as her father could not
spend much time away
from his beloved daughter, he resolved to take into his
hands the town
of Nepi, which on a former occasion, as the reader will
doubtless
remember, he had bestowed on Ascanio Sforza in exchange for
his
suffrage. Ascanio had naturally lost this town when he attached
himself
to the fortunes of the Duke of Milan, his brother; and when the pope
was
about to take it again, he invited his daughter Lucrezia to join
him
there and be present at the rejoicings held in honour of his
resuming
its possession.
Lucrezia’s readiness in giving way to her
father’s wishes brought her a
new gift from him: this was the town and
territory of Sermoneta, which
belonged to the Caetani. Of course the gift was
as yet a secret, because
the two owners of the seigneury, had first to be
disposed of, one being
Monsignore Giacomo Caetano, apostolic protonotary, the
other Prospero
Caetano, a young cavalier of great promise; but as both lived
at Rome,
and entertained no suspicion, but indeed supposed themselves to be
in
high favour with His Holiness, the one by virtue of his position,
the
other of his courage, the matter seemed to present no great
difficulty.
So directly after the return of Alexander to Rome, Giacomo
Caetano was
arrested, on what pretext we know not, was taken to the castle of
Sant’
Angelo, and there died shortly after, of poison: Prospero Caetano
was
strangled in his own house. After these two deaths, which both
occurred
so suddenly as to give no time for either to make a will, the
pope
declared that Sermoneta and all of her property appertaining to
the
Caetani devolved upon the apostolic chamber; and they were sold
to
Lucrezia for the cum of 80,000 crowns, which her father refunded to
her
the day after. Though Caesar hurried to Rome, he found when he
arrived
that his father had been beforehand with him, and had made a
beginning
of his conquests.
Another fortune also had been making
prodigious strides during Caesar’s
stay in France, viz. the fortune of Gian
Borgia, the pope’s nephew, who
had been one of the most devoted friends of
the Duke of Gandia up to the
time of his death. It was said in Rome, and not
in a whisper, that the
young cardinal owed the favours heaped upon him by His
Holiness less to
the memory of the brother than to the protection of the
sister. Both
these reasons made Gian Borgia a special object of suspicion to
Caesar,
and it was with an inward vow that he should not enjoy his new
dignities
very long that the Duke of Valentinois heard that his cousin Gian
had
just been nominated cardinal ’a latere’ of all the Christian world,
and
had quitted Rome to make a circuit through all the pontifical
states
with a suite of archbishops, bishops, prelates, and gentlemen, such
as
would have done honour to the pope himself.
Caesar had only come to
Rome to get news; so he only stayed three days,
and then, with all the troops
His Holiness could supply, rejoined his
forces on the borders of the Euza,
and marched at once to Imola. This
town, abandoned by its chiefs, who had
retired to Forli, was forced to
capitulate. Imola taken, Caesar marched
straight upon Forli. There he
met with a serious check; a check, moreover,
which came from a woman.
Caterina Sforza, widow of Girolamo and mother of
Ottaviano Riario, had
retired to this town, and stirred up the courage of the
garrison by
putting herself, her goods and her person, under their
protection.
Caesar saw that it was no longer a question of a sudden capture,
but of
a regular siege; so he began to make all his arrangements with a view
to
it, and placing a battery of cannon in front of the place where
the
walls seemed to him weakest, he ordered an uninterrupted fire, to
be
continued until the breach was practicable.
When he returned to the
camp after giving this order, he found there
Gian Borgia, who had gone to
Rome from Ferrara and was unwilling to be
so near Caesar without paying him a
visit: he was received with effusion
and apparently the greatest joy, and
stayed three days; on the fourth
day all the officers and members of the
court were invited to a grand
farewell supper, and Caesar bade farewell to
his cousin, charging him
with despatches for the pope, and lavishing upon him
all the tokens of
affection he had shown on his arrival.
Cardinal Gian
Bargia posted off as soon as he left the supper-table, but
on arriving at
Urbino he was seized with such a sudden and strange
indisposition that he was
forced to stop; but after a few minutes,
feeling rather better, he went an;
scarcely, however, had he entered
Rocca Cantrada when he again felt so
extremely ill that he resolved to
go no farther, and stayed a couple of days
in the town. Then, as he
thought he was a little better again, and as he had
heard the news of
the taking of Forli and also that Caterina Sforza had been
taken
prisoner while she was making an attempt to retire into the castle,
he
resolved to go back to Caesar and congratulate him on his victory;
but
at Fassambrane he was forced to stop a third time, although he had
given
up his carriage for a litter. This was his last halt: the same day
he
sought his bed, never to rise from it again; three days later he
was
dead.
His body was taken to Rome and buried without any ceremony
in the church
of Santa Maria del Populo, where lay awaiting him the corpse of
his
friend the Duke of Gandia; and there was now no more talk of the
young
cardinal, high as his rank had been, than if he had never existed.
Thus
in gloom and silence passed away all those who were swept to
destruction
by the ambition of that terrible trio, Alexander, Lucrezia, and
Caesar.
Almost at the same time Rome was terrified by another murder.
Don
Giovanni Cerviglione, a gentleman by birth and a brave soldier,
captain
of the pope’s men-at-arms, was attacked one evening by the sbirri, as
he
was on his way home from supping with Dan Elisio Pignatelli. One of
the
men asked his name, and as he pronounced it, seeing that there was
no
mistake, plunged a dagger into his breast, while a second man with
a
back stroke of his sword cut off his head, which lay actually at
his
feet before his body had time to fall.
The governor of Rome lodged
a complaint against this assassination with
the pope; but quickly perceiving,
by the way his intimation was
received, that he would have done better to say
nothing, he stopped the
inquiries he had started, so that neither of the
murderers was ever
arrested. But the rumour was circulated that Caesar, in
the short stay
he had made at Rome, had had a rendezvous with Cerviglione’s
wife, who
was a Borgia by birth, and that her husband when he heard of
this
infringement of conjugal duty had been angry enough to threaten her
and
her lover, too: the threat had reached Caesar’s ears, who, making a
long
arm of Michelotto, had, himself at Forli, struck down Cerviglione in
the
streets of Rome.
Another unexpected death followed so quickly on
that of Don Giovanni
Cerviglione that it could not but be attributed to the
same originator,
if not to the same cause. Monsignore Agnelli of Mantua,
archbishop of
Cosenza, clerk of the chamber and vice-legate of Viterbo,
having fallen
into disgrace with His Holiness, how it is not known, was
poisoned at
his own table, at which he had passed a good part of the night
in
cheerful conversation with three or four guests, the poison
gliding
meanwhile through his veins; then going to bed in perfect health, he
was
found dead in the morning. His possessions were at once divided
into
three portions: the land and houses were given to the Duke
of
Valentinois; the bishopric went to Francesco Borgia, son of
Calixtus
III; and the office of clerk of the chamber was sold for 5000 ducats
to
Ventura Bonnassai, a merchant of Siena, who produced this sum
for
Alexander, and settled down the very same day in the Vatican.
This
last death served the purpose of determining a point of law
hitherto
uncertain: as Monsignore Agnelli’s natural heirs had made some
difficulty
about being disinherited, Alexander issued a brief; whereby
he took from
every cardinal and every priest the right of making a will,
and declared that
all their property should henceforth devolve upon him.
But Caesar was
stopped short in the midst of his victories. Thanks to
the 200,000 ducats
that yet remained in his treasury, Ludovico Sforza
had levied 500 men-at-arms
from Burgundy and 8000 Swiss infantry, with
whom he had entered Lombardy. So
Trivulce, to face this enemy, had been
compelled to call back Yves d’Alegre
and the troops that Louis XII had
lent to Caesar; consequently Caesar,
leaving behind a body of pontifical
soldiery as garrison at Forli and Imola,
betook himself with the rest of
his force to Rome.
It was Alexander’s
wish that his entry should be a triumph; so when he
learned that the
quartermasters of the army were only a few leagues from
the town, he sent out
runners to invite the royal ambassadors, the
cardinals, the prelates, the
Roman barons, and municipal dignitaries to
make procession with all their
suite to meet the Duke of Valentinois;
and as it always happens that the
pride of those who command is
surpassed by the baseness of those who obey,
the orders were not only
fulfilled to the letter, but beyond it.
The
entry of Caesar took place on the 26th of February, 1500. Although
this was
the great Jubilee year, the festivals of the carnival began
none the less for
that, and were conducted in a manner even more
extravagant and licentious
than usual; and the conqueror after the first
day prepared a new display of
ostentation, which he concealed under the
veil of a masquerade. As he was
pleased to identify himself with the
glory, genius, and fortune of the great
man whose name he bore, he
resolved on a representation of the triumph of
Julius Caesar, to be
given on the Piazzi di Navona, the ordinary place for
holding the
carnival fetes. The next day, therefore, he and his retinue
started from
that square, and traversed all the streets of Rome, wearing
classical
costumes and riding in antique cars, on one of which Caesar stood,
clad
in the robe of an emperor of old, his brow crowned with a golden
laurel
wreath, surrounded by lictors, soldiers, and ensign-bearers, who
carried
banners whereon was inscribed the motto, ’Aut Caesar aut
nihil’.
Finally, an the fourth Sunday, in Lent, the pope conferred upon
Caesar
the dignity he had so long coveted, and appointed him general
and
gonfaloniere of the Holy Church.
In the meanwhile Sforza had
crossed the Alps and passed the Lake of
Como, amid acclamations of joy from
his former subjects, who had quickly
lost the enthusiasm that the French army
and Louis’s promises had
inspired. These demonstrations were so noisy at
Milan, that Trivulce,
judging that there was no safety for a French garrison
in remaining
there, made his way to Navarra. Experience proved that he was
not
deceived; for scarcely had the Milanese observed his preparations
for
departure when a suppressed excitement began to spread through the
town,
and soon the streets were filled with armed men. This murmuring
crowd
had to be passed through, sword in hand and lance in rest; and
scarcely
had the French got outside the gates when the mob rushed out after
the
army into the country, pursuing them with shouts and hooting as far
as
the banks of the Tesino. Trivulce left 400 lances at Novarra as well
as
the 3000 Swiss that Yves d’Alegre had brought from the Romagna,
and
directed his course with the rest of the army towards Mortara, where
he
stopped at last to await the help he had demanded from the King
of
France. Behind him Cardinal Ascanio and Ludovico entered Milan amid
the
acclamations of the whole town.
Neither of them lost any time, and
wishing to profit by this enthusiasm,
Ascanio undertook to besiege the castle
of Milan while Ludovico should
cross the Tesino and attack
Novarra.
There besiegers and besieged were sons of the same nation; for
Yves
d’Alegre had scarcely as many as 300 French with him, and Ludovico
500
Italians. In fact, for the last sixteen years the Swiss had
been
practically the only infantry in Europe, and all the Powers came,
purse
in hand, to draw from the mighty reservoir of their mountains.
The
consequence was that these rude children of William Tell, put up
to
auction by the nations, and carried away from the humble, hardy life
of
a mountain people into cities of wealth and pleasure, had lost,
not
their ancient courage, but that rigidity of principle for which they
had
been distinguished before their intercourse with other nations.
From
being models of honour and good faith they had become a kind
of
marketable ware, always ready for sale to the highest bidder. The
French
were the first to experience this venality, which later-on proved
so
fatal to Ludovico Sforza.
Now the Swiss in the garrison at Novarra
had been in communication with
their compatriots in the vanguard of the ducal
army, and when they found
that they, who as a fact were unaware that
Ludavico’s treasure was
nearly exhausted, were better fed as well as better
paid than
themselves, they offered to give up the town and go over to
the
Milanese, if they could be certain of the same pay. Ludovico, as we
may
well suppose, closed with this bargain. The whole of Novarra was
given
up to him except the citadel, which was defended by Frenchmen: thus
the
enemy’s army was recruited by 3000 men. Then Ludovico made the
mistake
of stopping to besiege the castle instead of marching on to Mortara
with
the new reinforcement. The result of this was that Louis XII, to
whom
runners had been sent by Trivulce, understanding his perilous
position,
hastened the departure of the French gendarmerie who were
already
collected to cross into Italy, sent off the bailiff of Dijon to levy
new
Swiss forces, and ordered Cardinal Amboise, his prime minister, to
cross
the Alps and take up a position at Asti, to hurry on the work
of
collecting the troops. There the cardinal found a nest-egg of 3000
men.
La Trimouille added 1500 lances and 6000 French infantry; finally,
the
bailiff of Dijon arrived with 10,000 Swiss; so that, counting the
troops
which Trivulce had at Mortara, Louis XII found himself master on
the
other side of the Alps of the first army any French king had ever
led
out to battle. Soon, by good marching, and before Ludovico knew
the
strength or even the existence of this army, it took up a
position
between Novarra and Milan, cutting off all communication between
the
duke and his capital. He was therefore compelled, in spite of
his
inferior numbers, to prepare for a pitched battle.
But it so
happened that just when the preparations for a decisive
engagement were being
made on both sides, the Swiss Diet, learning that
the sons of Helvetia were
on the paint of cutting one another’s throats,
sent orders to all the Swiss
serving in either army to break their
engagements and return to the
fatherland. But during the two months that
had passed between the surrender
of Novarra and the arrival of the
French army before the town, there had been
a very great change in the
face of things, because Ludovico Sforza’s treasure
was now exhausted.
New confabulations had gone on between the outposts, and
this time,
thanks to the money sent by Louis XII, it was the Swiss in the
service
of France who were found to be the better fed and better paid.
The
worthy Helvetians, since they no longer fought far their own
liberty,
knew the value of their blood too well to allow a single drop of it
to
be spilled for less than its weight in gold: the result was that,
as
they had, betrayed Yves d’Alegre, they resolved to betray
Ludovico
Sforza too; and while the recruits brought in by the bailiff of
Dijon
were standing firmly by the French flag, careless of the order of
the
Diet, Ludovico’s auxiliaries declared that in fighting against
their
Swiss brethren they would be acting in disobedience to the Diet,
and
would risk capital punishment in the end—a danger that nothing
would
induce them to incur unless they immediately received the arrears
of
their pay. The duke, who a spent the last ducat he had with him, and
was
entirely cut off from his capital, knew that he could not get money
till
he had fought his way through to it, and therefore invited the Swiss
to
make one last effort, promising them not only the pay that was
in
arrears but a double hire. But unluckily the fulfilment of this
promise
was dependent on the doubtful issue of a battle, and the Swiss
replied
that they had far too much respect for their country to disobey
its
decree, and that they loved their brothers far too well to consent
to
shed their blood without reward; and therefore Sforza would do well
not
to count upon them, since indeed the very next day they proposed
to
return to their homes. The duke then saw that all was lost, but he
made
a last appeal to their honour, adjuring them at least to ensure
his
personal safety by making it a condition of capitulation. But
they
replied that even if a condition of such a kind, would not
make
capitulation impossible, it would certainly deprive them of
advantages
which they had aright to expect, and on which they counted
as
indemnification for the arrears of their pay. They pretended,
however,
at last that they were touched by the prayers of the man whose
orders
they had obeyed so long, and offered to conceal him dressed in
their
clothes among their ranks. This proposition was barely plausible;
far
Sforza was short and, by this time an old man, and he could not
possibly
escape recognition in the midst of an army where the oldest was not
past
thirty and the shortest not less than five foot six. Still, this was
his
last chance, and he did not reject it at once, but tried to modify it
so
that it might help him in his straits. His plan was to disguise
himself
as a Franciscan monk, so that mounted an a shabby horse he might
pass
for their chaplain; the others, Galeazzo di San Severing, who
commanded
under him, and his two brothers, were all tall men, so, adopting
the
dress of common soldiers, they hoped they might escape detection in
the
Swiss ranks.
Scarcely were these plans settled when the duke heard
that the
capitulation was signed between Trivulce and the Swiss, who had made
no
stipulation in favour of him and his generals. They were to go over
the
next day with arms and baggage right into the French army; so the
last
hope of the wretched Ludovico and his generals must needs be in
their
disguise. And so it was. San Severino and his brothers took their
place
in the ranks of the infantry, and Sforza took his among the
baggage,
clad in a monk’s frock, with the hood pulled over his
eyes.
The army marched off; but the Swiss, who had first trafficked in
their
blood, now trafficked in their honour. The French were warned of
the
disguise of Sforza and his generals, and thus they were all
four
recognised, and Sforza was arrested by Trimouille himself. It is
said
that the price paid for this treason was the town of Bellinzona; far
it
then belonged to the French, and when the Swiss returned to
their
mountains and took possession of it, Louis XII took no steps to get
it
back again.
When Ascanio Sforza, who, as we know, had stayed at
Milan, learned the
news of this cowardly desertion, he supposed that his
cause was lost and
that it would be the best plan for him to fly, before he
found himself a
prisoner in the hand’s of his brother’s old subjects: such a
change of
face on the people’s part would be very natural, and they might
propose
perhaps to purchase their own pardon at the price of his liberty; so
he
fled by night with the chief nobles of the Ghibelline party, taking
the
road to Piacenza, an his way to the kingdom of Naples. But when
he
arrived at Rivolta, he remembered that there was living in that town
an
old friend of his childhood, by name Conrad Lando, whom he had helped
to
much wealth in his days of power; and as Ascanio and his companions
were
extremely; tired, he resolved to beg his hospitality for a single
night.
Conrad received them with every sign of joy, putting all his house
and
servants at their disposal. But scarcely had they retired to bed when
he
sent a runner to Piacenza, to inform Carlo Orsini, at that
time
commanding the Venetian garrison, that he was prepared to deliver
up
Cardinal Ascanio and the chief men of the Milanese army. Carlo
Orsini
did not care to resign to another so important an expedition,
and
mounting hurriedly with twenty-five men, he first surrounded
Conrads
house, and then entered sword in hand the chamber wherein Ascanio
and
his companions lay, and being surprised in the middle of their
sleep,
they yielded without resistance. The prisoners were taken to Venice,
but
Louis XII claimed them, and they were given up. Thus the King of
France
found himself master of Ludovico Sforza and of Ascania, of a
legitimate
nephew of the great Francesco Sforza named Hermes, of two bastards
named
Alessandro and Cortino, and of Francesco, son of the unhappy
Gian
Galeazza who had been poisoned by his uncle.
Louis XII, wishing
to make an end of the whole family at a blow, forced
Francesco to enter a
cloister, shut up Cardinal Ascanio in the tower of
Baurges, threw into prison
Alessandro, Cartino, and Hermes, and finally,
after transferring the wretched
Ludovico from the fortress of
Pierre-Eucise to Lys-Saint-George he relegated
him for good and all to
the castle of Loches, where he lived for ten years in
solitude and utter
destitution, and there died, cursing the day when the idea
first came
into his head of enticing the French into Italy.
The news
of the catastrophe of Ludovica and his family caused the
greatest joy at
Rome, for, while the French were consolidating their
power in Milanese
territory, the Holy See was gaining ground in the
Romagna, where no further
opposition was offered to Caesar’s conquest.
So the runners who brought the
news were rewarded with valuable
presents, and it was published throughout
the whole town of Rome to the
sound of the trumpet and drum. The war-cry of
Louis, France, France, and
that of the Orsini, Orso, Orso, rang through all
the streets, which in
the evening were illuminated, as though Constantinople
or Jerusalem had
been taken. And the pope gave the people fetes and
fireworks, without
troubling his head the least in the world either about its
being Holy
Week, or because the Jubilee had attracted more than 200,000
people to
Rome; the temporal interests of his family seeming to him far
more
important than the spiritual interests of his
subjects.
CHAPTER XI
One thing alone was wanting
to assure the success of the vast projects
that the pope and his son were
founding upon the friendship of Louis and
an alliance with him—that
is,—money. But Alexander was not the man to be
troubled about a paltry worry
of that kind; true, the sale of benefices
was by now exhausted, the ordinary
and extraordinary taxes had already
been collected for the whole year, and
the prospect of inheritance from
cardinals and priests was a poor thing now
that the richest of them had
been poisoned; but Alexander had other means at
his disposal, which were
none the less efficacious because they were less
often used.
The first he employed was to spread a, report that the Turks
were
threatening an invasion of Christendom, and that he knew for a
positive
fact that before the end of the summer Bajazet would land
two
considerable armies, one in Romagna, the other in Calabria; he
therefore
published two bulls, one to levy tithes of all ecclesiastical
revenues
in Europe of whatever nature they might be, the other to force the
Jews
into paying an equivalent sum: both bulls contained the
severest
sentences of excommunication against those who refused to submit,
or
attempted opposition.
The second plan was the selling of
indulgences, a thing which had never
been done before: these indulgences
affected the people who had been
prevented by reasons of health or business
from coming to Rome for the
Jubilee; the journey by this expedient was
rendered unnecessary, and
sins were pardoned for a third of what it would
have cost, and just as
completely as if the faithful had fulfilled every
condition of the
pilgrimage. For gathering in this tax a veritable army of
collectors was
instituted, a certain Ludovico delta Torre at their head. The
sum that
Alexander brought into the pontifical treasury is incalculable, and
same
idea of it may be gathered from the fact that 799,000 livres in gold
was
paid in from the territory of Venice alone.
But as the Turks did
as a fact make some sort of demonstration from the
Hungarian side, and the
Venetians began to fear that they might be
coming in their direction, they
asked for help from the pope, who gave
orders that at twelve o’clock in the
day in all his States an Ave Maria
should be said, to pray God to avert the
danger which was threatening
the most serene republic. This was the only help
the Venetians got from
His Holiness in exchange for the 799,000 livres in
gold that he had got
from them.
But it seemed as though God wished to
show His strange vicar on earth
that He was angered by the mockery of sacred
things, and on the Eve of
St. Peter’s Day, just as the pope was passing the
Capanile on his way to
the tribune of benedictions, a enormous piece of iron
broke off and fell
at his feet; and then, as though one warning had not been
enough, on the
next day, St. Peter’s, when the pope happened to be in one of
the rooms
of his ordinary dwelling with Cardinal Capuano and Monsignare Poto,
his
private chamberlain, he saw through the open windows that a very
black
cloud was coming up. Foreseeing a thunderstorm, he ordered the
cardinal
and the chamberlain to shut the windows. He had not been mistaken;
for
even as they were obeying his command, there came up such a furious
gust
of wind that the highest chimney of the Vatican was overturned, just
as
a tree is rooted up, and was dashed upon the roof, breaking it
in;
smashing the upper flooring, it fell into the very room where they
were.
Terrified by the noise of this catastrophe, which made the whole
palace
tremble, the cardinal and Monsignore Poto turned round, and seeing
the
room full of dust and debris, sprang out upon the parapet and shouted
to
the guards at the gate, "The pope is dead, the pope is dead!" At
this
cry, the guards ran up and discovered three persons lying in the
rubbish
on the floor, one dead and the other two dying. The dead man was
a
gentleman of Siena ailed Lorenzo Chigi, and the dying were two
resident
officials of the Vatican. They had been walking across the floor
above,
and had been flung down with the debris. But Alexander was not to
be
found; and as he gave no answer, though they kept on calling to him,
the
belief that he had perished was confirmed, and very soon spread
about
the town. But he had only fainted, and at the end of a certain time
he
began to come to himself, and moaned, whereupon he was discovered,
dazed
with the blow, and injured, though not seriously, in several parts
of
his body. He had been saved by little short of a miracle: a beam
had
broken in half and had left each of its two ends in the side walls;
and
one of these had formed a sort of roof aver the pontifical throne;
the
pope, who was sitting there at the time, was protected by
this
overarching beam, and had received only a few contusions.
The two
contradictory reports of the sudden death and the miraculous
preservation of
the pope spread rapidly through Rome; and the Duke of
Valentinois, terrified
at the thought of what a change might be wrought
in his own fortunes by any
slight accident to the Holy Father, hurried
to the Vatican, unable to assure
himself by anything less than the
evidence of his own eyes. Alexander desired
to render public thanks to
Heaven for the protection that had been granted
him; and on the very
same day was carried to the church of Santa Maria del
Popalo, escorted
by a numerous procession of prelates and men-at arms, his
pontifical
seat borne by two valets, two equerries, and two grooms. In this
church
were buried the Duke of Gandia and Gian Borgia, and perhaps
Alexander
was drawn thither by same relics of devotion, or may be by
the
recollection of his love for his former mistress, Rosa Vanazza,
whose
image, in the guise of the Madonna, was exposed for the veneration
of
the faithful in a chapel on the left of the high altar. Stopping
before
this altar, the pope offered to the church the gift of a
magnificent
chalice in which were three hundred gold crowns, which the
Cardinal of
Siena poured out into a silver paten before the eyes of all, much
to the
gratification of the pontifical vanity.
But before he left Rome
to complete the conquest of the Romagna, the
Duke of Valentinois had been
reflecting that the marriage, once so
ardently desired, between Lucrezia and
Alfonso had been quite useless to
himself and his father. There was more than
this to be considered: Louis
XII’s rest in Lombardy was only a halt, and
Milan was evidently but the
stage before Naples. It was very possible that
Louis was annoyed about
the marriage which converted his enemy’s nephew into
the son-in-law of
his ally. Whereas, if Alfonso were dead, Lucrezia would be
the position
to marry some powerful lord of Ferrara or Brescia, who would be
able to
help his brother-in-law in the conquest of Romagna. Alfonso was now
not
only useless but dangerous, which to anyone with the character of
the
Borgias perhaps seemed worse, the death of Alfonso was resolved
upon.
But Lucrezia’s husband, who had understand for a long time past
what
danger he incurred by living near his terrible father-in-law,
had
retired to Naples. Since, however, neither Alexander nor Caesar
had
changed in their perpetual dissimulation towards him, he was
beginning
to lose his fear, when he received an invitation from the pope and
his
son to take part in a bull-fight which was to be held in the
Spanish
fashion in honour of the duke before his departure: In the
present
precarious position of Naples it would not have been good policy
far
Alfonso to afford Alexander any sort of pretext for a rupture, so
he
could not refuse without a motive, and betook himself to Rome. It
was
thought of no use to consult Lucrezia in this affair, for she had two
or
three times displayed an absurd attachment for her husband, and
they
left her undisturbed in her government of Spoleto.
Alfonso was
received by the pope and the duke with every demonstration
of sincere
friendship, and rooms in the Vatican were assigned to him
that he had
inhabited before with Lucrezia, in that part of the building
which is known
as the Torre Nuova.
Great lists were prepared on the Piazza of St.
Peter’s; the streets
about it were barricaded, and the windows of the
surrounding houses
served as boxes for the spectators. The pope and his court
took their
places on the balconies of the Vatican.
The fete was
started by professional toreadors: after they had exhibited
their strength
and skill, Alfonso and Caesar in their turn descended to
the arena, and to
offer a proof of their mutual kindness, settled that
the bull which pursued
Caesar should be killed by Alfonso, and the bull
that pursued Alfonso by
Caesar.
Then Caesar remained alone an horseback within the lists, Alfonso
going
out by an improvised door which was kept ajar, in order that he might
go
back on the instant if he judged that his presence was necessary. At
the
same time, from the opposite side of the lists the bull was
introduced,
and was at the same moment pierced all over with darts and
arrows, some
of them containing explosives, which took fire, and irritated
the bull
to such a paint that he rolled about with pain, and then got up in
a
fury, and perceiving a man on horseback, rushed instantly upon him.
It
was now, in this narrow arena, pursued by his swift enemy, that
Caesar
displayed all that skill which made him one of the finest horsemen
of
the period. Still, clever as he was, he could not have remained
safe
long in that restricted area from an adversary against whom he had
no
other resource than flight, had not Alfonso appeared suddenly, just
when
the bull was beginning to gain upon him, waving a red cloak in his
left
hand, and holding in his right a long delicate Aragon sword. It was
high
time: the bull was only a few paces distant from Caesar, and the risk
he
was running appeared so imminent that a woman’s scream was heard
from
one of the windows. But at the sight of a man on foot the bull
stopped
short, and judging that he would do better business with the new
enemy
than the old one, he turned upon him instead. For a moment he
stood
motionless, roaring, kicking up the dust with his hind feet, and
lashing
his sides with his tail. Then he rushed upon Alfonso, his eyes
all
bloodshot, his horns tearing up the ground. Alfonso awaited him with
a
tranquil air; then, when he was only three paces away, he made a
bound
to one sides and presented instead of his body his sword,
which
disappeared at once to the hilt; the bull, checked in the middle of
his
onslaught, stopped one instant motionless and trembling, then fell
upon
his knees, uttered one dull roar, and lying down on the very spot
where
his course had been checked, breathed his last without moving a
single
step forward.
Applause resounded an all sides, so rapid and
clever had been the blow.
Caesar had remained on horseback, seeking to
discover the fair spectator
who had given so lively a proof of her interest
in him, without
troubling himself about what was going on: his search had not
been
unrewarded, far he had recognized one of the maids of honour
to
Elizabeth, Duchess of Urbino, who was betrothed to Gian
Battista
Carraciualo, captain-general of the republic of Venice.
It
was now Alfonso’s turn to run from the bull, Caesar’s to fight him:
the young
men changed parts, and when four mules had reluctantly dragged
the dead bull
from the arena, and the valets and other servants of His
Holiness had
scattered sand over the places that were stained with
blood, Alfonso mounted
a magnificent Andalusian steed of Arab origin,
light as the wind of Sahara
that had wedded with his mother, while
Caesar, dismounting, retired in his
turn, to reappear at the moment when
Alfonso should be meeting the same
danger from which he had just now
rescued him.
Then a second bull was
introduced upon the scene, excited in the same
manner with steeled darts and
flaming arrows. Like his predecessor, when
he perceived a man on horseback he
rushed upon him, and then began a
marvellous race, in which it was impossible
to see, so quickly did they
fly over the ground, whether the horse was
pursuing the bull or the bull
the horse. But after five or six rounds, the
bull began to gain upon the
son of Araby, for all his speed, and it was plain
to see who fled and
who pursued; in another moment there was only the length
of two lances
between them, and then suddenly Caesar appeared, armed with one
of those
long two handed swords which the French are accustomed to use, and
just
when the bull, almost close upon Don Alfonso, came in front of Caesar
he
brandished the sword, which flashed like lightning, and cut off
his
head, while his body, impelled by the speed of the run, fell to
the
ground ten paces farther on. This blow was so unexpected, and had
been
performed with such dexterity, that it was received not with
mere
clapping but with wild enthusiasm and frantic outcry. Caesar,
apparently
remembering nothing else in his hour of triumph but the scream
that had
been caused by his former danger, picked up the bull’s head, and,
giving
it to one of his equerries, ordered him to lay it as an act of homage
at
the feet of the fair Venetian who had bestowed upon him so lively a
sign
of interest. This fete, besides affording a triumph to each of the
young
men, had another end as well; it was meant to prove to the populace
that
perfect goodwill existed between the two, since each had saved the
life
of the other. The result was that, if any accident should happen
to
Caesar, nobody would dream of accusing Alfanso; and also if any
accident
should happen to Alfonso, nobody would dream, of accusing
Caesar.
There was a supper at the Vatican. Alfonso made an elegant
toilet, and
about ten o’clock at night prepared to go from the quarters he
inhabited
into those where the pope lived; but the door which separated the
two
courts of the building was shut, and knock as he would, no one came
to
open it. Alfonso then thought that it was a simple matter for him to
go
round by the Piazza of St. Peter’s; so he went out unaccompanied
through
one of the garden gates of the Vatican and made his way across
the
gloomy streets which led to the stairway which gave on the piazza.
But
scarcely had he set his foot on the first step when he was attacked by
a
band of armed men. Alfonso would have drawn his sword; but before it
was
out of the scabbard he had received two blows from a halberd, one on
his
head, the other on his shoulder; he was stabbed in the side, and
wounded
both in the leg and in the temple. Struck down by these five blows,
he
lost his footing and fell to the ground unconscious; his
assassins,
supposing he was dead, at once remounted the stairway, and found
on the
piazza forty horsemen waiting for them: by them they were
calmly
escorted from the city by the Porta Portesa. Alfonso was found at
the
point of death, but not actually dead, by some passers-by, some of
whom
recognised him, and instantly conveyed the news of his assassination
to
the Vatican, while the others, lifting the wounded man in their
arms,
carried him to his quarters in the Torre Nuova. The pope and Caesar,
who
learned this news just as they were sitting down to table, showed
great
distress, and leaving their companions, at once went to see Alfonso,
to
be quite certain whether his wounds were fatal or not; and an the
next
morning, to divert any suspicion that might be turned
towards
themselves, they arrested Alfonso’s maternal uncle, Francesco
Gazella,
who had come to Rome in his nephew’s company. Gazella was found
guilty
on the evidence of false witnesses, and was consequently
beheaded.
But they had only accomplished half of what they wanted. By
some means,
fair or foul, suspicion had been sufficiently diverted from the
true
assassins; but Alfonso was not dead, and, thanks to the strength of
his
constitution and the skill of his doctors, who had taken
the
lamentations of the pope and Caesar quite seriously, and thought
to
please them by curing Alexander’s son-in-law, the wounded man was
making
progress towards convalescence: news arrived at the same time
that
Lucrezia had heard of her husband’s accident, and was starting to
come
and nurse him herself. There was no time to lose, and Caesar
summoned
Michelotto.
"The same night," says Burcardus, "Don Alfonso,
who would not die of his
wounds, was found strangled in his bed."
The
funeral took place the next day with a ceremony not unbecoming in
itself,
though, unsuited to his high rank. Dan Francesca Bargia,
Archbishop of
Cosenza, acted as chief mourner at St. Peter’s, where the
body was buried in
the chapel of Santa Maria delle Febbre.
Lucrezia arrived the same
evening: she knew her father and brother too
well to be put on the wrong
scent; and although, immediately after
Alfonso’s death, the Duke of
Valentinois had arrested the doctors, the
surgeons, and a poor deformed
wretch who had been acting as valet, she
knew perfectly well from what
quarter the blow had proceeded. In fear,
therefore, that the manifestation of
a grief she felt this time too well
might alienate the confidence of her
father and brother, she retired to
Nepi with her whole household, her whole
court, and more than six
hundred cavaliers, there to spend the period of her
mourning.
This important family business was now settled, and Lucrezia
was again a
widow, and in consequence ready to be utilized in the pope’s
new
political machinations. Caesar only stayed at Rome to receive
the
ambassadors from France and Venice; but as their arrival was
somewhat
delayed, and consider able inroads had been made upon the
pope’s
treasury by the recent festivities, the creation of twelve new
cardinals
was arranged: this scheme was to have two effects, viz., to
bring
600,000 ducats into the pontifical chest, each hat having been priced
at
50,000 ducats, and to assure the pope of a constant majority in
the
sacred council.
The ambassadors at last arrived: the first was M.
de Villeneuve, the
same who had come before to see the Duke of Valentinois in
the name of
France. Just as he entered Rome, he met on the road a masked man,
who,
without removing his domino, expressed the joy he felt at his
arrival.
This man was Caesar himself, who did not wish to be recognised, and
who
took his departure after a short conference without uncovering his
face.
M. de Villeneuve then entered the city after him, and at the Porta
del
Populo found the ambassadors of the various Powers, and among them
those
of Spain and Naples, whose sovereigns were not yet, it is true,
in
declared hostility to France, though there was already some
coolness.
The last-named, fearing to compromise themselves, merely said to
their
colleague of France, by way of complimentary address, "Sir, you
are
welcome"; whereupon the master of the ceremonies, surprised at
the
brevity of the greeting, asked if they had nothing else to say.
When
they replied that they had not, M. de Villeneuve turned his back
upon
them, remarking that those who had nothing to say required no answer;
he
then took his place between the Archbishop of Reggia, governor of
Rome,
and the Archbishop of Ragusa, and made his way to the palace of the
Holy
Apostles, which had been, got ready far his reception.
Same days
later, Maria Giorgi, ambassador extraordinary of Venice, made
his arrival. He
was commissioned not only to arrange the business on
hand with the pope, but
also to convey to Alexander and Caesar the title
of Venetian nobles, and to
inform them that their names were inscribed
in the Golden Book—a favour that
both of them had long coveted, less far
the empty honour’s sake than for the
new influence that this title might
confer. Then the pope went on to bestow
the twelve cardinals’ hats that
had been sold. The new princes of the Church
were Don Diego de Mendoza,
archbishop of Seville; Jacques, archbishop of
Oristagny, the Pope’s
vicar-general; Thomas, archbishop of Strigania; Piero,
archbishop of
Reggio, governor of Rome; Francesco Bargia, archbishop of
Cosenza,
treasurer-general; Gian, archbishop of Salerno, vice-chamberlain;
Luigi
Bargia, archbishop of Valencia, secretary to His Holiness, and
brother
of the Gian Borgia whom Caesar had poisoned; Antonio, bishop of
Coma;
Gian Battista Ferraro, bishop of Modem; Amedee d’Albret, son of the
King
of Navarre, brother-in-law of the Duke of Valentinois; and
Marco
Cornaro, a Venetian noble, in whose person His Holiness rendered back
to
the most serene republic the favour he had just received.
Then, as
there was nothing further to detain the Duke of Valentinois at
Rome, he only
waited to effect a loan from a rich banker named Agostino
Chigi, brother of
the Lorenzo Chigi who had perished on the day when the
pope had been nearly
killed by the fall of a chimney, and departed far
the Romagna, accompanied by
Vitellozzo Vitelli, Gian Paolo Baglione, and
Jacopo di Santa Croce, at that
time his friends, but later on his
victims.
His first enterprise was
against Pesaro: this was the polite attention
of a brother-in-law, and Gian
Sforza very well knew what would be its
consequences; for instead of
attempting to defend his possessions by
taking up arms, or to venture an
negotiations, unwilling moreover to
expose the fair lands he had ruled so
long to the vengeance of an
irritated foe, he begged his subjects, to
preserve their former
affection towards himself, in the hope of better days
to come; and he
fled into Dalmatia. Malatesta, lord of Rimini, followed his
example;
thus the Duke of Valentinois entered both these towns without
striking a
single blow. Caesar left a sufficient garrison behind him, and
marched
on to Faenza.
But there the face of things was changed: Faenza
at that time was under
the rule of Astor Manfredi, a brave and handsome young
man of eighteen,
who, relying on the love of his subjects towards his family,
had
resolved on defending himself to the uttermost, although he had
been
forsaken by the Bentivagli, his near relatives, and by his allies,
the
Venetian and Florentines, who had not dared to send him any aid
because
of the affection felt towards Caesar by the King of France.
Accordingly,
when he perceived that the Duke of Valentinois was marching
against him,
he assembled in hot haste all those of his vassals who were
capable of
bearing arms, together with the few foreign soldiers who were
willing to
come into his pay, and collecting victual and ammunition, he took
up his
position with them inside the town.
By these defensive
preparations Caesar was not greatly, disconcerted; he
commanded a magnificent
army, composed of the finest troops of France
and Italy; led by such men as
Paolo and Giulio Orsini, Vitellozzo
Vitelli and Paolo Baglione, not to steak
of himself—that is to say, by
the first captains of the period. So, after he
had reconnoitred, he at
once began the siege, pitching his camp between the
two rivers, Amana
and Marziano, placing his artillery on the side which faces
on Forli, at
which point the besieged party had erected a powerful
bastion.
At the end of a few days busy with entrenchments, the breach
became
practicable, and the Duke of Valentinois ordered an assault, and
gave
the example to his soldiers by being the first to march against
the
enemy. But in spite of his courage and that of his captains beside
him,
Astor Manfredi made so good a defence that the besiegers were
repulsed
with great loss of men, while one of their bravest leaders,
Honario
Savella; was left behind in the trenches.
But Faenza, in spite
of the courage and devotion of her defenders, could
not have held out long
against so formidable an army, had not winter
come to her aid. Surprised by
the rigour of the season, with no houses
for protection and no trees for
fuel, as the peasants had destroyed both
beforehand, the Duke of Valentinois
was forced to raise the siege and
take up his winter quarters in the
neighbouring towns, in order to be
quite ready for a return next spring; for
Caesar could not forgive the
insult of being held in check by a little town
which had enjoyed a long
time of peace, was governed by a mere boy, and
deprived of all outside
aid, and had sworn to take his revenge. He therefore
broke up his army
into three sections, sent one-third to Imola, the second to
Forli, and
himself took the third to Cesena, a third-rate town, which was
thus
suddenly transformed into a city of pleasure and luxury.
Indeed,
for Caesar’s active spirit there must needs be no cessation of
warfare or
festivities. So, when war was interrupted, fetes began, as
magnificent and as
exciting as he knew how to make them: the days were
passed in games and
displays of horsemanship, the nights in dancing and
gallantry; for the
loveliest women of the Romagna—and that is to say of
the whole world had come
hither to make a seraglio for the victor which
might have been envied by the
Sultan of Egypt or the Emperor of
Constantinople.
While the Duke of
Valentinois was making one of his excursions in the
neighbourhood of the town
with his retinue of flattering nobles and
titled courtesans, who were always
about him, he noticed a cortege an
the Rimini road so numerous that it must
surely indicate the approach of
someone of importance. Caesar, soon
perceiving that the principal person
was a woman, approached, and recognised
the very same lady-in-waiting to
the Duchess of Urbino who, on the day of the
bull-fight, had screamed
when Caesar was all but touched by the infuriated
beast. At this time
she was betrothed, as we mentioned, to Gian Carracciuola,
general of the
Venetians. Elizabeth of Gonzaga, her protectress and
godmother, was now
sending her with a suitable retinue to Venice, where the
marriage was to
take place.
Caesar had already been struck by the
beauty of this young girl, when at
Rome; but when he saw her again she
appeared more lovely than on the
first occasion, so he resolved on the
instant that he would keep this
fair flower of love for himself: having often
before reproached himself
for his indifference in passing her by. Therefore
he saluted her as an
old acquaintance, inquired whether she were staying any
time at Cesena,
and ascertained that she was only passing through, travelling
by long
stages, as she was awaited with much impatience, and that she
would
spend the coming night at Forli. This was all that Caesar cared to
knew;
he summoned Michelotto, and in a low voice said a few wards to
him,
which were heard by no one else.
The cortege only made a halt at
the neighbouring town, as the fair bride
had said, and started at once for
Forli, although the day was already
far advanced; but scarcely had a league
been revered when a troop of
horsemen from Cesena overtook and surrounded
them. Although the soldiers
in the escort were far from being in sufficient
force, they were eager
to defend their general’s bride; but soon same fell
dead, and ethers,
terrified, took to flight; and when the lady came dawn from
her litter
to try to escape, the chief seized her in his arms and set her in
front
of him on his horse; then, ordering his men to return to Cesena
without
him, he put his horse to the gallop in a cross direction, and as
the
shades of evening were now beginning to fall, he soon disappeared into
the darkness. |
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