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 Library 
 
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 http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924092592140 
 
CELEBRATED CRIMES 
 
 ', VOL. I. 
 
 \ 
 
EiBrarg ^tritwtt tit %vtrt 
 
 CELEBRATED 
 CRIMES 
 
 By 
 ALEXANDRE DUMAS 
 
 ILLUSTRATED WITH EIGHTEEN PHOTOGRAVURE PLATES FROM 
 ORIGINAL DRAWINGS BV 
 
 EDMUND H. GARRETT 
 
 AND FROM RARE PRINTS 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. — Volume I. 
 
 BOSTON 
 
 L. C. PAGE & COMPANY 
 
 MDCCCCII 
 
 U^ 
 
bbl 
 
 Copyright, 1896 
 By Joseph Knight Company 
 
 ©nibetsitg Press 
 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge. U.S.A. 
 
 ;■! 1 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In preparing for publication the following work of 
 one of the most popular French writers of the 
 present day, the translator has carefully removed 
 from it several of the blemishes of the modern 
 school of literature to which it belongs, — levity of 
 expression on serious subjects, indelicacy of language, 
 and a desire to gratify the vulgar appetite for hor- 
 rible and revolting details. These faults vitiate 
 many productions which are otherwise of value and 
 importance ; and which, simply by revision, may 
 be accommodated to correct taste and moral feeling, 
 and rendered not only unexceptionable, but inter- 
 esting and useful. This, it is believed, will be found 
 to be the case with the "Crimes Cdlfebres" of M. 
 Alexandre Dumas. 
 
 Several of the histories in the collection are 
 founded chiefly on the " Causes C^lfebres " of Gayot 
 de Pithaval, that unparalleled storehouse of the 
 
iv PREFACE. 
 
 romance of real life. M. Dumas, however, has 
 divested them of the formality of the old French 
 lawyer, suppressed or condensed the tedious tech- 
 nical pleadings and details of judicial proceedings, 
 and given rapidity, animation, and dramatic effect 
 to the narrative. At the same time, not only in 
 these stories, but in those which he has derived 
 from other sources, he appears to have been scrupu- 
 lously accurate with regard to facts ; having collated 
 the authorities within his reach, and given every 
 incident according to the most satisfactory evidence 
 which he could obtain by his researches. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Page 
 
 The Eokgias 1 
 
 The Comtesse de Saint-Gtbban 231 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 Page 
 Cesake Borgia and Rosa Vanozza . . Frontispiece 
 
 Statue of Lorenzo the Magnificent .... 6 
 
 Castle of San Angelo 123 
 
 Portrait of Gikolamo Savonarola 142 
 
 Portrait op Nicolo Machiavelli 202 
 
 " Then, turning to the young girl, he gaily 
 
 drank her health" 233 
 
THE BORGIAS. 
 
CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 THE BORGIAS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 On the 8th of April, 1492, in a chamber of the Careggi 
 Palace, situated about a league from Florence, three men 
 were grouped around a bed, upon which a fourth was 
 lying in the agonies of death. The first, seated near his 
 feet, and half concealed by the curtains of gold brocade 
 (as if to hide his tears), was Ermolao Barbaro, the author 
 of the treatises " On Celibacy " and " Studies on Pliny, " 
 who, being at Rome as the accredited ambassador of the 
 Florentine republic, had been raised in the preceding 
 year to the patriarchate of Aquileia by Pope Innocent 
 VIII. The second, kneeling and still pressing the hands 
 of the dying man between his own, was Angelo Politiano, 
 the Catullus of the fifteenth century, whose mind was so 
 imbued by the classic spirit of antiquity that we might 
 almost consider him to have been a poet of the Augustan 
 period. The third, standing near his head, and watch- 
 ing with the deepest grief the coming shadows of death 
 over the face of the sufferer, was the illustrious Pico of 
 Mirandola, who at twenty years of age had offered to 
 reply in twenty-two languages to seven hundred questions 
 
 TOL. 1. — 1 
 
2 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 to be proposed by twenty of the most learned men of the 
 age, if they could be assembled in Florence. 
 
 The object of this solicitude was Lorenzo the Magnifi- 
 cent, who, attacked at the beginning of the year by a 
 violent fever, which was aggravated by the hereditary 
 malady of his family, the gout, and finding that the 
 drinks of dissolved pearls, which the charlatan Leoni di 
 Spoleto had ordered him to take, as if to regulate his 
 remedies rather by the superfluity of wealth than the 
 urgency of disease, were powerless and vain, and that he 
 must resign the charms of social intercourse, — the poets, 
 whose lays had been so long his recreation, and the lux- 
 uries of his palaces, — had required for the absolution of 
 his sins the presence of the Dominican Grirolamo Fran- 
 cesco Savonarola. Nor was it without some secret dread 
 that he awaited the arrival of this stern and fearful 
 preacher, whose voice shook Florence, and upon whose 
 pardon his hopes of future happiness depended. For 
 Savonarola was one of those men of marble who come, 
 like the statue of the Commander in " Don Juan, " to 
 knock at the gates of the voluptuous, and warn them, 
 amid the riot of their festivals and orgies, that it is 
 nevertheless the hour to direct their thoughts toward 
 heaven. Born at Ferrara, to which his family, one of 
 the most illustrious of Padua, had been invited by the 
 Marquis Nicola d'Este, carried away by his impassioned 
 sensibility, he had fled at twenty-three years of age from 
 his father's house, and had made his religious profession 
 of faith in the cloister of the Dominicans of Florence. 
 There, selected to give lectures in philosophy, the young 
 novice had at first to contend with the defects of a harsh 
 and feeble voice, a defective pronunciation, and the total 
 prostration of physical strength, caused by an excess of 
 discipline. From that period he had devoted himself to 
 
THE BORGIAS. 3 
 
 the most absolute seclusion; he disappeared amid the 
 recesses of his convent, as if the tomb had closed on his 
 career. Kneeling in constant prayer before a crucifix, 
 excited by his penances and vigils, meditation became 
 ecstasy, and then it was he first felt that secret prophetic 
 impulse which urged him to preach the reformation of 
 the Church. 
 
 The reformation of Savonarola was more reverential 
 than that of Luther. UnHke the German monk, he was 
 guided not by reason, but enthusiasm; he was not the 
 theologian, but the prophet. Bowing to the authority of 
 the Church, he stood erect before the power of the State. 
 Religion and liberty to him were equally sacred; and 
 Lorenzo appeared not less guilty in overthrowing the one 
 than Innocent VIII. in dishonouring the other. Conse- 
 quently, so long as he was Lorenzo the Magnificent, 
 Savonarola had resisted all entreaties to sanction by his 
 presence a power he had regarded as illegitimate; but 
 Lorenzo had summoned him to the bed of death; the 
 man and events wore a changed aspect; the austere 
 preacher yielded, and barefooted and uncovered he obeyed 
 the summons, trusting not only to save the soul of a 
 dying penitent, but to obtain the liberty of the republic. 
 
 Lorenzo awaited his presence with impatience and 
 anxiety. On the sound of his footstep, the dying man's 
 pale complexion assumed a more cadaverous hue, and, 
 raising himself, he signified by a gesture his desire to be 
 alone. His friends obeyed ; and scarcely had they retired 
 by one door, when, pale and unmoved, the monk ap- 
 peared upon the threshold of another. Lorenzo, reading 
 on his brow the impassive inflexibility of a marble statue, 
 breathed a sigh, so deep that it might have seemed 
 his last, and fell back upon his bed. The monk glanced 
 around the room, as if to assure himself that he was 
 
4 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 alone; then, with a slow, solemn step, he advanced 
 toward the bed. Lorenzo regarded him with terror, and 
 exclaimed, as he stood near him : — 
 
 " Oh, my father! I have greatly sinned." 
 
 " The mercy of God is infinite, " replied the monk ; 
 " and I am charged with its divine extension toward 
 thee! " 
 
 " And think you, then, that God will, indeed, for- 
 give ? " said the sufferer, gathering fresh hope from these 
 unexpected words. 
 
 " Thy sins and thy crimes God wiU entirely forgive ! " 
 replied Savonarola. " He will forgive, as regards thy 
 sins, thy frivolous pleasures, adulterous enjoyments, and 
 obscene festivals ; and for thy crimes, God will forgive 
 thee, — the reward of two thousand florins to him who 
 should bring thee the heads of Dietisalvi, Nerone Nigi, 
 Angelo Antinori, and of Nicolo Soderini, and of twice 
 that sum to him who should deliver them to you alive. 
 He will forgive thee the death upon the scaffold or the 
 gibbet of the son of Papi Orlandi, Francesco di Brisi- 
 ghella, Bernardo Nardi, Jacopo Frescobaldi, Amoretto 
 Baldovinetti, Pietro Balducci, Bernardo di Baudino, 
 Francesco Frescobaldi, and of more than three hundred 
 others, whose names, less celebrated, were yet not less 
 dear to Florence!" And, as Savonarola slowly pro- 
 nounced each name, his eye intently fixed upon the 
 dying man, Lorenzo answered by a groan, which proved 
 how accurate was their fearful enumeration. 
 
 " And think you, father, " replied he, the accents of 
 doubt still faltering upon his lips, " that of my sins and 
 crimes God will forgive me all ! " 
 
 " All ; but upon three conditions ! " 
 
 " What are they ? " 
 
 " The first is, that you feel an entire faith in the power 
 and mercy of God." 
 
The borgias. 5 
 
 " Father, " replied Lorenzo, with earnestness, " that 
 faith I feel in the inmost recesses of my heart." 
 
 " The second, " said Savonarola, " is, that you restore 
 the property you have unjustly confiscated and retained ! " 
 
 " And will time be allowed me for this ? " 
 
 " God will grant it thee, " answered the monk. 
 
 Lorenzo closed his eyes for undisturbed reflection ; then, 
 after a short silence, " Yes, father, I will do it, " he 
 replied. 
 
 " The third, " resumed Savonarola, " is, that you will 
 restore the ancient liberty and independence of the 
 republic ! " 
 
 Lorenzo raised himself, by a convulsive effort, upon 
 his bed; his eyes interrogated every feature of the Do- 
 minican, as if he sought to know whether he had not 
 deceived himself, — that he had, indeed, heard cor- 
 rectly. Savonarola repeated the words. 
 
 " Never, never ! " exclaimed Lorenzo, again falling 
 upon his bed, with gestures of denial, " never ! " 
 
 Without one word of reply, the monk turned to 
 depart. 
 
 " Father, father ! " exclaimed the dying man, " quit me 
 not thus ! Have pity on me ! " 
 
 " Have pity upon Florence ! " said the monk. 
 
 " But, father, " exclaimed Lorenzo, " Florence is free, 
 Florence is prosperous ! " 
 
 "Florence is enslaved; Florence is poor, — poor in 
 genius, in money, and in courage: in genius, because 
 Lorenzo will be succeeded by his son Pietro; in money, 
 because it is by draining the resources of the republic 
 that thou hast maintained the regal state of thy family and 
 thy commercial credit ; in courage, because thou hast de- 
 prived the recognised magistracy of the authority intrusted 
 to them by the constitution, turning thy fellow-citizens 
 
6 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 from the paths of military and civil duty, in which, 
 hefore they were enervated hy thy luxury, they had dis- 
 played the antique virtues, the bygone greatness of their 
 race; insomuch that when the day shall dawn on Flor- 
 ence, — and it is not far off, " continued he, his eyes fixed 
 and glowing, as if he read and were the prophet of the 
 future, — " when foreign hordes shall descend the moun- 
 tains, the walls of our cities shall fall at the mere sound 
 of the trumpet, as those of Jericho of old." 
 
 " And you wish that I should dispossess myself, upon 
 the bed of death, of that power which has been the glory 
 of my life ! " exclaimed Lorenzo. 
 
 " I do not ; it is thy God ! " coldly replied Savonarola. 
 
 " Impossible, impossible ! " murmured Lorenzo. 
 
 " Then die as thou hast lived, amid thy courtiers and 
 adulators; and, as they have condemned thy body, so 
 let them sacrifice thy soul ! " and with these words the 
 Dominican, unmoved by the cries of the dying Lorenzo, 
 went from the room, with the same unimpassioned fea- 
 tures, the same measured step, that had marked his 
 entrance. He seemed a spirit, freed already from the 
 trammels of earth, soaring beyond the interests and pas- 
 sions of the world. 
 
 At the cry which burst from Lorenzo as he saw 
 Savonarola disappear, Ermolao, Politiano, and Mirandola 
 re-entered the room, and found their friend grasping con- 
 vulsively in his hands a rich crucifix, which he had taken 
 from the pillow of his bed. In vain did they seek to 
 reinspire hope. Lorenzo replied to their friendly encour- 
 agement only by tears and broken sobs; and, one hour 
 after his interview with Savonarola, with his lips still 
 pressed upon the emblem of the Saviour, he expired in 
 the arms of these three men, of whom the most favoured, 
 although all were young, was not destined to survive 
 
statue of Lorenzo the Magnificent. 
 
 Photo-Etching. — From a Photograph. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 1 
 
 him beyond two years. " As his death was the necessary 
 precursor of calamity, Heaven, " said Nicolo Machiavelli, 
 " deigned to presage the coming evil by the most un- 
 doubted omens : lightning struck the dome of the church 
 of Santa Eeparata, and Eodrigo Borgia was elected 
 Pope." 
 
 Toward the close of the fifteenth century, — that is to 
 say, at the period when this recital commences, — the place 
 of St. Peter at Eome was far from presenting that im- 
 posing sight which now bursts upon those who approach 
 it by the Piazza Dei Rusticucci. The basilica of Con- 
 stantine no longer existed; and that of Michael Angelo, 
 the chef-d'ceuvre of thirty Popes, the labour of three 
 centuries, at the expense of two hundred and sixty mil- 
 lions, was not then erected. The ancient edifice, which 
 had withstood the slow decay of eleven hundred and 
 forty-five years, had toward 1440 fallen into so ruinous 
 a state that Nicholas V., that tasteful precursor of Julius 
 II. and of Leo X., had pulled it down, as well as the 
 temple of Probus Anicius, and laid, in the space they 
 had occupied, the foundations of a new church to be 
 erected by the architects Eosselini and Baptista Alberti. 
 But upon the death of Nicholas, the Venetian Paul II. 
 being unable to advance more than five thousand crowns 
 toward the continuance of his predecessor's design, the 
 building, then scarcely raised above ground, was stopped, 
 and thus presented in its formless state an appearance 
 even more saddening than a ruin. 
 
 For the place itself, it had not, as may be readily im- 
 derstood from the preceding description, either its beau- 
 tiful colonnade by Bernini, its fountains, or Egyptian 
 obelisk, which, according to Pliny, had been erected by 
 Pharaoh Nuncorus, in the city of Heliopolis, and thence 
 
8 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 brought to Eome by Caligula, who placed it in the circus 
 of Nero, where it stood until 1586. But as the circus 
 was situated upon the very space where the cathedral 
 now arises, and as this obelisk covered, by its base, the 
 ground-plan of the present sacristy, it seemed to shoot up 
 like an enormous needle, amid the half-formed columns 
 of the unequally raised walls, and the rough unfinislied 
 blocks of stone. To the right arose the Vatican, that 
 splendid Tower of Babel, upon which, for a thousand 
 years, all the celebrated architects of the Roman school 
 have exercised their genius ; but at this period it had not 
 its richly decorated chapels, twelve great halls, twenty- 
 two courts, thirty-two staircases, and two thousand cham- 
 bers; for Sixtus v., who effected so much in the five years 
 of his papacy, had not yet been enabled to add that 
 extensive building which commands towards the east the 
 court of St. Damasus; but it was yet the old and conse- 
 crated palace, hallowed by remembrances of the olden 
 time, in which Charlemagne enjoyed the hospitality of 
 Leo III., when he received from him the imperial crown 
 of the West. 
 
 On the 9th of August, 1492, it seemed as if the entire 
 population of Eome, from the Gate of the People to the 
 Coliseum, and from the baths of Diocletian to the castle 
 of San Angelo, had assembled by appointment in the 
 place of St. Peter. For so dense was the multitude that 
 its pressure filled the streets adjacent, and radiating from 
 one common centre, like the rays of the star, the vast 
 mass was seen ascending the basilica, grouping themselves 
 among the blocks of stones, clinging around the columns, 
 winding along the broken outline of the walls, disap- 
 pearing at intervals within the different houses, and re- 
 appearing at the windows in such a manner that each 
 casement seemed walled up with heads. The eyes of all. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 9 
 
 from every quarter, were intently fixed upon one part of 
 the Vatican, for the conclave was there assembled; and 
 as Innocent VIII. had been dead sixteen days, the car- 
 dinals were proceeding to the election of the new Pope. 
 
 Rome is truly the city of elections. From her foun- 
 dation to the present day, — that is, during the course 
 of about twenty-six centuries, — she has constantly 
 elected her kings, consuls, tribunes, emperors, and 
 Popes: hence, during the sitting of the conclave, Eome 
 seemed excited by a strange fever, urging all ranks 
 towards the Vatican, or Monte Cavallo, according as the 
 scarlet assembly was held in the one palace or the other. 
 
 The election of a new Pope is of universal interest 
 to Christendom; as, from the days of St. Peter to those 
 of Gregory XVI. , the reign of every Pope may be 
 averaged at eight years, so, according to the character 
 of the elected, is this period one of tranquillity or of 
 disorder, justice or venality, peace or war. And never, 
 possibly, from the hour when the first successor of St. 
 Peter ascended the throne of the pontiffs, had so much 
 inquietude been exhibited as that which was now observ- 
 able among the people. Nor was it without cause, for 
 Innocent VIII. , who had obtained the honourable title 
 of the Father of his People, arising very probably from 
 the fact of his having increased the number of his sub- 
 jects by eight sons and as many daughters, had died, as 
 has been stated, after a licentious life, exhausted by a 
 lingering disorder, during the progress of which, if we 
 maj' rely upon the statement of Stefano Infessura, no 
 less than two hundred and twenty murders had been 
 committed in the streets of Rome. 
 
 During the temporary suspension of the papal author- 
 ity, the executive devolves upon the president of the 
 apostolic chamber; but its duties, — the coinage of 
 
10 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 money with his name and arms, the removal of the ring 
 from the finger of the deceased Pope, the embalming 
 and other ceremonies, and the interment, after nine days 
 of funeral obsequies, of the body in the niche provision- 
 ally appointed, until the death of the succeeding Pope 
 should consign it to its final place of rest, — these, 
 together with the necessity of closing up the door of the 
 conclave, and the window of the balcony from whence 
 the election is proclaimed, had not permitted a moment's 
 attention to be paid to municipal regulations, so that 
 assassination had remained unchecked, if not encouraged; 
 and the people now loudly demanded the energetic 
 repression of this increasing evil. 
 
 The eyesof the spectators were therefore, as has been 
 said, fixed upon the Vatican, and particularly upon a 
 chimney whence the first signal should issue, when 
 suddenly, at the hour when the Ave Maria announces 
 the close of day, cries mixed with shouts of laughter 
 arose from the crowd, — a discordant murmur of raillery 
 and menace; for, at that moment, a small column of 
 smoke was discerned ascending like a fleecy vapour to 
 the sky. And this announced that Kome was yet with- 
 out a ruler, the world still deprived of a pontiff; for 
 this smoke was the sign that the ballot lists were burnt, 
 and that the cardinals had not yet decided the election. 
 No sooner was it seen than the countless crowds, well 
 aware that until the assembly of the cardinals in the 
 morning there was nothing further to expect, retired in 
 hurried throngs, and a jesting humour, as if after the 
 last discharge of fireworks; so that in the place where, 
 but a few minutes before, a nation seemed collected, a 
 few groups only were now idly scattered, composed of 
 those whom curiosity might detain, or of others, who, 
 from residing in the immediate neighbourhood, were 
 
THE BORGIAS. 11 
 
 less eager to depart. Even these imperceptibly dimin- 
 ished, for at half-past nine the streets of Eome were 
 insecure; and after the hour struck, the hurried step of 
 some casual passer-by was alone occasionally heard, 
 doors were successively closed , the lights in the windows 
 gradually disappeared, until as ten was repeated from 
 the chimes around, except from one window of the 
 Vatican, whence the lamp still threw its fitful light 
 around, houses, squares, and streets were alike wrapped 
 in darkness. 
 
 At this moment a man enveloped in a mantle , whose 
 dimly shadowed form arose against one of the unfinished 
 columns of the basilica, glided slowly and cautiously 
 among the blocks of stone scattered around its founda- 
 tions, and advanced to the fountain which then formed 
 the centre of the square, on the spot where the obelisk 
 now stands; on reaching which he stopped, and, con- 
 cealed by the obscurity of the night and the deeper 
 shadow of the monument, he glanced furtively around 
 as if to be sure he was unobserved, then, drawing his 
 sword, he struck three times upon the pavement, pro- 
 ducing at each blow light sparks from its point. This 
 signal, for it was one, was not lost; the lamp in the 
 Vatican was extinguished, and at the same moment a 
 packet was thrown out, which fell at a few paces from 
 him; guided by its ringing sound as it reached the 
 pavement, he instantly seized it, in spite of the dark- 
 ness, and hurried away. He had proceeded thus about 
 half-way down the Borgo Vecchio, when he turned to 
 the right and entered a street, at the other extremity of 
 which was a figure of a Madonna with its lamp ; approach- 
 ing this, he took from his pocket the enclosure he had 
 picked up, which in fact was merely a Roman crown, 
 only that it was hollow and divided, and contained in 
 
12 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the interior a letter, which, notwithstanding the risk of 
 being recognised, the stranger instantly read, — so great 
 was his anxiety to be acquainted with its contents. It 
 was at the risk of being recognised, because in his eager- 
 ness this nocturnal correspondent had thrown back the 
 hood of his mantle, so as entirely to expose his features 
 to the light of the lamp, by which it was easy to discern 
 a handsome youth apparently about twenty-five or 
 twenty -six years of age, dressed in a violet-coloured 
 doublet, open at the shoulders, and slashed at the 
 elbows, with a cap of the same colour, the long black 
 plume of which waved darkly around him. He stopped, 
 however, but a short time, for hardly had he read the 
 billet he had so mysteriously received, when he replaced 
 it in his silver pocket-book ; and, readjusting his mantle 
 so as entirely to conceal his figure, he walked on with 
 a rapid step, traversed Borgo San Spirito, and followed 
 the street Delia Lingara to where it opens upon the 
 church Eegina Coeli. On reaching this place he knocked 
 thrice quickly at the door of a large house, which was 
 instantly opened; then, rapidly ascending the staircase, 
 he entered a room, where two ladies awaited his arrival 
 with the utmost impatience. 
 
 On his entrance they both exclaimed together, " Well, 
 well , Francesco , what news ? " 
 
 "Excellent! mother, — excellent! sister," replied the 
 youth, embracing the one, and extending his hand to 
 the other. " My father has gained three votes to-day, 
 but he requires yet six to obtain the majority. " 
 
 " And cannot these be purchased ? " asked the elder of 
 the two ladies, while the other, in default of speech, 
 interrogated him by a look. 
 
 "Yes, yes, mother," replied the youth. "That is 
 precisely the point which my fatlier has well considered. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 13 
 
 He gives to the Cardinal Orsini his palace at Eome, 
 with his two villas of Monticello and Soriano; to 
 Cardinal Colonna, the abbey of Subiaco; to Cardinal 
 San Angelo, the bishopric of Porto, with his furniture 
 and wines ; to the cardinal of Parma, the town of Nepi ; 
 the cardinal of Genoa, the church of Santa Maria-in- 
 via-lata; and to Cardinal Savelli, the church of Santa 
 Maria Maggiore and the town of Civita Castellana; and 
 as for Cardinal Ascanio Sforza, he is already aware that 
 we sent him two days ago four mules heavily laden with 
 money, and gold and silver plate ; and with this supply 
 he has engaged to give five thousand ducats to the 
 cardinal patriarch of Venice." 
 
 " But what measures shall we adopt to intimate the 
 intentions of Eodrigo to the others ? " 
 
 " My father has provided for this also, and points out 
 to us an easy way ; you know, mother, with what cere- 
 mony their dinner is now carried to the cardinals ? " 
 
 " Yes, in a basket, with the coat of arms of the indi- 
 vidual for whom the meal is destined. " 
 
 " My father has bribed the bishop who inspects this, 
 and to-morrow being a flesh day, chickens will be sent 
 to the Cardinals Orsini, Colonna, Savelli, of San 
 Angolo, of Parma, and of Genoa, each of which will 
 contain a formal donation made by me, in my father's 
 name, of houses, palaces, or churches." 
 
 "Excellent!" exclaimed the inquirer; "everything, 
 I am now convinced, will proceed as we could wish. " 
 
 "And by the grace of God," replied the younger 
 lady, with a derisive smile, " our father will be elected 
 Pope." 
 
 " A fortunate event for us, " said Francesco. 
 
 " Oh! and for Christianity," answered his sister, with 
 an expression still more sarcastic. 
 
14 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 "Lucrezia, Lucrezia," said her mother, "you are 
 unworthy of the happiness we expect." 
 
 "What matters it, if nevertheless it comes? More- 
 over, you remember the proverb, ' The Lord blesses the 
 increase of families,' — a blessing especially due unto 
 our own, considering that our domestic life has borne 
 such a close resemblance to the patriarchal. " 
 
 As she uttered this, she cast upon her brother a 
 glance of such meaning that even he was abashed ; but 
 as the pleasures of his incestuous love were for the 
 moment of less interest, he summoned four servants, and 
 whilst they armed themselves to accompany him, he 
 drew up and signed the six donations which were on 
 the morrow to be sent to the cardinals; and, not wishing 
 to be seen at their abodes, he thought of profiting by 
 the night, and thus delivering the papers unobserved to 
 those who had agreed to convey them at the dinner 
 hour as described. This done, and the servants ready, 
 Francesco departed, leaving his mother and sister to 
 indulge their golden reveries of coming greatness. 
 
 Eager and excited as before, the populace thronged, 
 at break of day, to the square before the Vatican, where 
 again, at ten o'clock, the appearance of the smoke, still 
 announcing that no one of the cardinals had obtained 
 the requisite majority of votes, provoked the jeers and 
 murmurs of the crowd. It was , nevertheless, rumoured 
 that the election was narrowed to the choice of one of 
 three candidates , Rodrigo Borgia, Giuliano della Rovere, 
 and Ascanio Sforza ; for the people were ignorant of the 
 fact of the four mules, and the treasures they bore to 
 the last-mentioned cardinal , on account of which he had 
 ceded his votes to his competitor. 
 
 Amid the agitation that this fresh disappointment 
 had excited, the sound of sacred music was heard, and 
 
THE BORGIAS. 15 
 
 a procession of monks advanced, headed by the president 
 of the apostolic chamber, who had proceeded from the 
 Ara Coeli to the capitol, visiting the principal Madon- 
 nas, and most frequented churches, to obtain the inter- 
 cession of Heaven for the prompt election of a Pope. 
 As soon as the silver crucifix which preceded it was 
 seen, the deepest silence prevailed; the people simulta- 
 neously knelt, and an impressive silence succeeded to 
 the noise and tumult which had hitherto prevailed, and 
 which was every moment assuming a more menacing 
 character. Thus many thought this procession had as 
 much of policy as of religion in its design ; and that its 
 influence must be as effective upon earth as in heaven. 
 At any rate, had this scheme been projected by the 
 cardinal president, he had not deceived himself as to its 
 effect: the result was as he wished; the procession 
 moved on, the laughter and raillery continued, but the 
 threatening cries of the multitude were heard no 
 more. 
 
 Thus the day glided away, for at Home no one works ; 
 men are there either cardinals or valets, and live they 
 know not how. The crowd was still , therefore , of the 
 densest, when toward two o'clock another procession, 
 which had as much effect in causing commotion as the 
 other had in imposing silence, traversed in its turn the 
 place of St. Peter, — it was the procession of the cardi- 
 nals' dinner. The people welcomed its approach with 
 their habitual shouts of laughter; irreverent as they 
 were, they little knew that with this procession, much 
 more efficacious than the last, the Pope had entered the 
 Vatican. Day closed as before ; expectation was again 
 defeated ; at half-past eight the customary signal of the 
 smoke was seen. But as at the same time a whispered 
 rumour from the Vatican was spread, announcing that 
 
16 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 in all probability the election would be decided on the 
 morrow, this signal was observed with patience. 
 
 Dark and stormy the day broke on the following 
 morning, the 11th of August, 1492 ; but the crowd was 
 still the same. To the people, indeed, this weather 
 was a blessing, for though they might still suffer from 
 heat, they were secured from the more scorching rays of 
 the sun. Toward nine o'clock a violent storm burst in 
 terrific fury over the Transtevere; but rain, lightning, 
 and thunder — of what consequence were they to a 
 people expecting a new Pope % The election had been 
 promised; and it was easy to perceive that, if the day 
 passed without it, a tumult would certainly ensue. 
 Nine, half-past nine, the minute-hand advanced toward 
 ten; no event occurred to destroy or excite hope. At 
 last the first stroke of ten was heard, the chimney 
 attracted all eyes; slowly the bells tolled the hour, 
 every note falling on the hearts of the people. The 
 last stroke sounded; its vibrations faintly faded on the 
 ear, and a loud shout, echoing from one thousand voices, 
 succeeded to the stillness which had prevailed. " Non 
 v' 6 fumo," — "There is no smoke;" that is to say, 
 "We have a Pope!" 
 
 The rain fell unregarded, so great was the excitement 
 and the joy of the populace. A stone was detached 
 from a window which had been lately walled up, and 
 on which attention was now centred; a general shout 
 welcomed its descent; by degrees the opening was 
 enlarged, and in a few minutes it was sufficiently wide 
 to enable a man to advance upon the balcony. This 
 was the Cardinal Ascanio Sforza; but as he stepped 
 forth, frightened by the rain and lightning, he hesitated 
 and drew back; immediately there burst from the multi- 
 tude around cries mingled with imprecations and threats 
 
THE BORGIAS. 17 
 
 that they would demolish the Vatican, and seek them- 
 selves the Pope. The cardinal, more alarmed by this 
 tempest of human passion than by the storm which 
 darkened the face of heaven, again advanced, and 
 between the interval of two terrific claps of thunder, 
 amid a silence incomprehensible to those who had wit- 
 nessed the preceding outburst, he read the following 
 announcement: " I announce to you tidings of great joy ; 
 the most eminent and reverend Signor Eodrigo Lenzuoli 
 Borgia, archbishop of Valencia, cardinal deacon of San 
 Nicolo-in-Carcere, vice-chancellor of the Church, has 
 been elected Pope, and has assumed the title of 
 Alexander VI." 
 
 This nomination gave the most singular satisfaction. 
 Eodrigo Borgia, it is true, bad the reputation of being a 
 dissolute man, but libertinage had ascended the throne 
 with Sixtus IV. and Innocent, so that the anomalous 
 position of a Pope with a mistress and five children was 
 by no means new to the Romans. But it was important 
 that the power of the State should be confided to an 
 energetic mind ; and it was still more important for the 
 tranquillity of Rome that the new Pope should inherit 
 rather the sword of St. Paul than the keys of St. Peter. 
 Thus the essential character of the festivals given upon 
 this occasion was far more warlike than religious, and 
 had a greater likeness to the election of a young con- 
 qiieror to a throne than to the elevation of an old pontiff 
 to the papal chair. 
 
 With regard to the new Pope, he had no sooner dis- 
 charged the ceremonial duties which were consequent 
 upon his elevation, and paid his debts of simony, than 
 from the heights of the Vatican he surveyed the plains 
 of Europe, that vast political chess-board, the movement 
 of whose pieces he hoped to govern according to the in- 
 
 VOL. I. — 2 
 
18 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 clinations of his genius. It was one of those epochs of 
 exciting interest when everything fluctuates between the 
 period which is finished and the era which commences. 
 Turkey, Spain, France, and Germany were successively 
 assuming that weight in the political scale whose influ- 
 ence must so powerfully affect the future interests of the 
 minor States. We will, therefore, with Alexander, cast 
 a rapid glance around, and review their respective posi- 
 tion as regarded Italy, the possession of which they alike 
 coveted as a prey. 
 
 Constantine Paleologus Dragozes, besieged by 300,000 
 Turks, after he had in vain appealed to Christendom for 
 support, unwilling to survive the loss of his empire, 
 had been found mingled with the slain near the gate 
 Tophana ; and on the 30th of May, 1463, Mahomet II. 
 had entered Constantinople, where, after a reign which 
 bestowed upon him the surname of Fatile, or the Con- 
 queror, he died leaving two sons, the eldest of whom 
 ascended the throne as Bajazet II. But this did not 
 occur with the tranquillity that both his right of primo- 
 geniture and the choice of his father should have guar- 
 anteed. Djem, his younger brother, better known by the 
 name of Zizime, had contested the succession upon the 
 ground that he was in fact Porphyrogenitus, — that is to 
 say, born during the reign of Mahomet, — whilst Bajazet, 
 born prior to that period, could be considered only as 
 the son of a private person. This was chicanery, and 
 of the worst kind ; but there, where power is all in all, 
 and I'iglit and justice are of no consideration, it was suf- 
 ficient to excite war. 
 
 The two brothers, each commanding a large army, met 
 in conflict in Asia, in 1482. Djem was defeated, and 
 hotly pursued by his brother, who allowed him no time 
 to rally his broken forces ; he was obliged to embark in 
 
THE BORGIAS. 19 
 
 Cilicia, and to take refuge at Ehodes, where he besought 
 the protection of the Knights of St. John. But they, 
 not daring to extend this protection, conveyed him to 
 France, and guarded him with jealous care in one of their 
 commanderies, in spite of the reclamations of Caib-Bey, 
 Sultan of Egypt, who, having rebelled against Bajazet, 
 desired to legitimise his defection by the presence of the 
 young prince in his army. 
 
 A similar demand, to suit the same political purpose, 
 had been successively made by Mathias Corvinus, King 
 of Hungary ; by Ferdinand, King of Aragon and Sicily ; 
 and by Ferdinand, King of Naples. Bajazet, well aware 
 of the importance of such a rival in the hands of an 
 opponent, had sent ambassadors to Charles VIII., en- 
 gaging, should he undertake to keep Djem in his custody, 
 not only to pay a considerable pension, but to yield the 
 sovereignty of the Holy Land to France, as soon as 
 Jerusalem should be conquered from the Sultan of 
 Egypt, which offer the king had accepted. But Innocent 
 VIII. had thereupon interposed, and in his turn had 
 claimed Djem, apparently to make the rights of the pro- 
 scribed a pretext for a crusade against the Turks, but in 
 reality to get possession of the forty thousand ducats 
 promised by Bajazet to one of the European princes, 
 whoever he might be, who would imprison his brother. 
 Charles VIII., not daring to refuse a request advanced by 
 the spiritual head of Christianity and supported by such 
 sacred motives, had consequently released Djem, under 
 the charge of Grand Master d'Ambussin; who, in con- 
 sideration of a cardinal's hat, had consented to deliver up 
 his prisoner. 
 
 Thus this unfortunate youth, the object of so many 
 conflicting interests, had made, upon the 13th of March, 
 1489, his public entry into Rome on horseback, clothed 
 
20 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 in the magnificent costume of the East, between the 
 Prior of Auvergne, nephew of the Grand Master, and 
 Francesco Cibo, son of the Pope. From that period he 
 had remained there, and Bajazet, faithfnl to promises, 
 in the due fulfilment of which he had so much at stake, 
 had regularly paid the annual pension of forty thousand 
 ducats to the sovereign pontiff. Such was the state of 
 Turkey. 
 
 Ferdinand and Isabella reigned in Spain, and had 
 already laid the foundation of that vast empire which 
 twenty-five years later enabled Charles V. to indulge in 
 the proud boast that the sun never set upon his domin- 
 ions. These two sovereigns had successively conquered 
 and driven the Moors from Granada, their last retreat, 
 whilst the genius of two men, Bartholomew Diaz and 
 Christopher Columbus, had for their advantage recovered 
 a world lost, and conquered a world unknown. Thus, 
 by the result of their victories in the old and their dis- 
 coveries in the new world, they had acquired at the 
 Court of Rome an influence unknown to their prede- 
 cessors. Such was the state of Spain. 
 
 In France, Charles VIII. had succeeded, on the 30th 
 of August, 1483, to his father, Louis II., who, by means 
 of the scaffold, had left him a kingdom enslaved, but 
 suited to its political condition ; namely, the government 
 of a child under the regency of a woman, — a regency, 
 however, which had restrained the pretensions of the 
 princes of the blood royal, terminated the civil wars, and 
 reunited to the crown what yet remained of the inde- 
 pendent fiefs. Charles VIII. at twenty-two years of 
 age was, if we may rely upon the testimony of La 
 Tremouille, a prince of diminutive stature, but endowed 
 with much greatness of soul; if we may rely upon 
 Comiaes, an infant scarcely freed from the restraints of 
 
THE BORGIAS. 21 
 
 childhood, equally destitute of intellect as of means, 
 feeble and self-willed, and surrounded by fools rather 
 than by good councillors ; or, finally, if we may trust 
 Guicciardiui, who, as an Italian, may be suspected of 
 partial views, an inexperienced youth, excited by an 
 ardent thirst of dominion, the increase of power, and 
 the desire of fame, — a desire arising much more from 
 his fickleness and impetuosity than from his conscious- 
 ness of genius, — indolent, and averse to all occupation, 
 to which, whenever he was led to direct his attention, 
 he betrayed almost always an equal want of judgment 
 and discernment. It is true he was liberal, but it was a 
 liberality exercised without stint and without discrimina- 
 tion. He was at times inflexibly resolute. This was 
 obstinacy rather than firmness; and what his flatterers 
 called goodness of heart merited much more the appella- 
 tion of insensibility and infirmity of purpose. As for 
 his body, it was ia singular accordance with his imbe- 
 cility and want of character. He was of low stature, 
 his head large, neck short and thick, his breast and 
 shoulders broad and high. His limbs were shapeless, 
 long, and slim, and withal his features were ugly, yet 
 capable of dignified and forcible expression ; and as every 
 limb was in disproportion, his appearance was monstrous 
 rather than human. Such was the man whom fortune 
 destined for a conqueror; the being for whom Heaven 
 had reserved more glory than he could sustain. So much 
 for the state of France. 
 
 The throne of the Empire was occupied by Frederic 
 III., rightly called the Pacific; not only by reason of 
 his having always maintained peace, but through the 
 mere fact that being constantly defeated he had been 
 invariably constrained to receive peace as the lot of the 
 vanquished. The first proof that he had given of this 
 
22 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 truly philosophic spirit of forhearance was during his 
 journey to Rome, to which he proceeded to be crowned. 
 Traversing the Apennines, he was attacked by brigands, 
 who pUlaged and escaped with their booty, unscathed 
 and unpursued. Example is contagious; the impunity 
 of the bandit was the encouragement of the noble ; the 
 robbers differed but in. rank. Amurath seized upon a 
 part of Hungary; Mathias Corvinus overran the lower 
 Austrian dominions. 
 
 Frederic was unmoved, and consoled himself for their 
 loss by repeating the maxim, " Forgetfulness is the 
 remedy of misfortune." At the period now described, 
 he was, after a reign of fifty -three years, about to betroth 
 his son, Maximilian, to Mary of Burgundy, and to place 
 his son-in-law, Albert of Bavaria, who had claimed 
 possession of the Tyrol, under the ban of the Empire. 
 He was, therefore, too much occupied with his family 
 affairs to feel any solicitude about the public interests of 
 Italy. And, moreover, he was engaged in researches for 
 a device for the house of Austria, — an occupation of the 
 utmost importance to a being endowed with such facul- 
 ties as Frederic III. At last this device, the prophetic 
 realisation almost of the reign of Charles V., was found, 
 to the great joy of the old emperor, who, feeling that 
 after this last intellectual effort of his sagacity, earth had 
 no further claims upon his attention, died on the 19th of 
 August, 1493, leaving the Empire to his son Maximilian. 
 This device was the five vowels, A, E, I, O, U, which 
 formed the initials of the following five words : — 
 
 " Austria est imperare orbi universo." 
 
 Such was the state of Germany. 
 
 Having now considered the political condition of the 
 four nations gradually tending to become European 
 
THE BORGIAS. 23 
 
 powers, let us review those secondary States which en- 
 circled Rome, the proper protectors of the spiritual 
 Queen of the world, if it might be the ambition of any 
 among these political giants to attack her, and for this 
 purpose to cross the sea or the mountains, the Adriatic 
 Gulf or the Alps, the Mediterranean or the Apennines. 
 These States were the kingdom of Naples, the duchy of 
 Milan, the magnificent republic of Florence, and that of 
 Venice. 
 
 The kingdom of Naples was governed by Ferdinand, a 
 man advanced in years, whose birth was not only illegiti- 
 mate, but probably incestuous in its origin. His father, 
 Alfonso of Aragon, held his crown from Joan of Naples, 
 who had adopted him for her successor. But as, through 
 fear of there being no heir to the throne, the queen upon 
 her deathbed had appointed two instead of one, Alfonso 
 had to maintain his rights against Rene. The two pre- 
 tenders disputed the succession for some time. At last 
 the house of Aragon triumphed over that of Anjou, and 
 during 1442 Alfonso established himself upon the 
 throne ; and it was the rights of the ejected pretender, as 
 we shall presently see, which were reclaimed by Charles 
 VIII. 
 
 Ferdinand possessed neither the good qualities nor the 
 genius of his father; nevertheless, he successively sub- 
 dued his enemies. His two competitors were of superior 
 merit. The one was the Count of Viana, his nephew, 
 who, denouncing the shameless birth of his uncle, 
 directed the party of the Aragonese ; the other was Duke 
 John of Calabria, at the head of the Anjou party. But 
 he defeated both, and maintained himself upon his 
 throne by his prudence, which degenerated not unfre- 
 quently into duplicity. He had a cultivated mind, pos- 
 sessed much scientific knowledge, and was well versed in 
 
24 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 legislation. He was of middling stature, his head large 
 and well formed, the forehead bold and projecting, and 
 impressively set off hy his long white hair, which fell in 
 flowing locks upon his shoulders. With respect to his 
 physical strength, although he had rarely exhibited it in 
 martial exercises, it was yet so great that one day, being 
 accidentally in the market-place at Naples, he seized by 
 the horns a bull which had broken loose, and pinioned it 
 to the spot in spite of the efforts of the animal to free 
 itself from his grasp. 
 
 The election of Alexander was to Ferdinand a source 
 of great inquietude ; and, despite his prudence, he could 
 not forbear expressing to the bearer of the news that " he 
 not only regretted the election, but did not believe that 
 any good Christian could rejoice at it, inasmuch as 
 Borgia, having ever been a wicked man, would inevit- 
 ably become a bad pontiEf. Admitting even, " he added, 
 " that the choice were good, were it even justly satisfac- 
 tory to others, it would not the less be fatal to the house 
 of Aragon, from the very fact that he was bom a subject 
 of it, — that it had been the source of his rise and 
 progress; for if reasons of state are able to sever the 
 dearest ties of kindred, much more can they destroy the 
 simpler relations of obligation and allegiance." 
 
 Ferdinand estimated the character of Alexander with 
 his habitual tact; but as we shall see in the sequel, his 
 opinions did not prevent his being the first to contract an 
 alliance with him.- 
 
 The duchy of Milan belonged nominally to Giovanni 
 Galeasso, grandson of Francesco Sforza, who had in- 
 vaded it the 26th of February, 1450, and had bequeathed 
 it to Galeasso Mario, his son, father of the reigning 
 prince. It belonged only nominally to him, because, in 
 fact, the real possessor of the Milanese was at this period 
 
THE BORGIAS. 25 
 
 not the lawful heir, but his uncle Ludovico, surnamed 
 " II Moro, " on account of the mulberry-tree which he 
 bore in his escutcheon. Exiled with his two brothers, 
 Filippo, who died by poison in 1479, and Ascagno, who 
 was raised to a cardinalship, he returned to Milan a few 
 days after the assassination of Galeasso Mario, which 
 took place on the 26th of December, 1476, in the basilica 
 of St. Stephen, and seized the regency of the young 
 duke, then only eight years of age. Since that period, 
 although his nephew had attained the age of twenty-two, 
 Ludovico had governed in his name, and, in all probabil- 
 ity, would continue so to do; for a few days after the 
 unfortunate youth had expressed a wish to exercise his 
 rights, he fell sick, and it was openly averred that he 
 had taken one of those slow, yet mortal poisons that the 
 sovereigns of that day so constantly employed, — so 
 unhesitatingly, indeed, that when even death arose from 
 any natural malady, the cause was always sought for in 
 its connexion with some political or personal interest. 
 However this might be, Ludovico had consigned his 
 nephew, too feeble to occupy himself in future with the 
 affairs of his duchy, to the castle of Pavia, where he 
 languished before the eyes of his wife, Isabella, daughter 
 of the king, Ferdinand of Naples. As for Ludovico, he 
 was ambitious, crafty, and of daring courage, unscrupu- 
 lous in the use of the sword or poison, which, as occasion 
 required, without the slightest predilection or repugnance 
 for one or the other, he alternately employed; and, 
 moreover, was resolutely bent upon being the successor 
 of his nephew, whether he lived or died. 
 
 Florence, although still retaining the name of a repub- 
 lic, had gradually become enslaved, and belonged in fact, 
 if not by right, to Pietro de' Medici, to whom Lorenzo, 
 as has been related, had bequeathed it like a patrimonial 
 
26 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 possession. Unfortunately the son had not the genius of 
 the father. He was handsome, it is true; Lorenzo, on 
 the contrary, was particularly plain. His voice was agree- 
 ably modulated ; Lorenzo snuffled. He was well read in 
 classical literature, his conversation was ready and re- 
 fined, and he could extemporise in verse almost as fluently 
 as he who was surnamed " the Magnificent ; " but igno- 
 rant himseK of politics, he was haughty and overbearing 
 to those who had made them their pursuit, — in addi- 
 tion, a man ardent in the pursuit of pleasure, passion- 
 ately addicted to women, incessantly occupied in such 
 manly exercises as would best recommend him to their 
 notice, particularly tennis, a game in which he was ex- 
 ceedingly expert, and now proposing, as soon as his 
 mourning was laid aside, to dazzle not only Florence but 
 Italy by the splendour of his court and the magnificence 
 of his f§tes. Such at least was the resolution of Pietro, 
 but Heaven had otherwise decided. 
 
 As regarded the republic of Venice, of which Agostino 
 Barbarigo was the doge, she was at this period in the 
 full ascendency of her power and splendour. From 
 Cadiz to the Palus Mseotides every port was opened to 
 her thousand vessels; she possessed in Italy, beyond the 
 boundary of the lagoons, and of the ancient duchy of 
 Venice, the provinces of Bergamo, Brescia, Cremona, 
 Verona, Vicenza, and Padua, the Trevisano, which com- 
 prises the Feltrino, and the principality of Ravenna. 
 She retained the Frioul except Aquileia, Istria except 
 Trieste, upon the eastern coast of the gulf, Zara, Spoleto, 
 and the shores of Albania ; in the Ionian Sea, the islands 
 of Zante and of Corfu ; in Greece, Lepanto and Patras ; 
 and in the Morea, Moron, Ceron, Napoli de Romania, 
 and Argos; and in the Archipelago, Candia and the 
 iingdom of Cyprus. Thus the possessions of the repub- 
 
THE BORGIAS. 27 
 
 lie extended from the mouth of the Po to the eastern 
 shores of the Mediterranean, and Italy and Greece 
 formed the suburhs of Venice. 
 
 The territory left free by Naples, Milan, Florence, 
 and Venice was the booty of petty tyrants who exercised 
 a despotism therein ; thus the Colonna were established 
 at Ostia and at Nettuno, the Montefeltri at Urbino, the 
 Manfredi at Faenza, the Bentivogli at Bologna, the 
 Malatesta at Rimiai, the Vitelli at Cita di Castello, 
 the Baglioni at Perugia, the Orsini at Vicovaro, and 
 the Princes d'Este at Ferrara. 
 
 Lastly, placed at the summit of the spiral elevation of 
 this immense circle, composed of the greater European 
 powers, of minor States, and of petty tyrants, Rome ap- 
 peared the most prominent, but the weakest of all, desti- 
 tute of influence and territory, poor, unarmed, and de- 
 fenceless. All this it was the object of the newly elected 
 pontiff to remedy and to restore. Let us consider, then, 
 the character of the man who had undertaken to accom- 
 plish such a project. 
 
 Eodrigo LenzuoU was born at Valencia, in Spain, in 
 1430 or 1431, and, according to various authors, was the 
 descendant, upon his mother's side, of a family originally 
 of regal extraction, and who, before the tiara was the 
 object of their ambition, had preferred claims to the 
 crowns of Aragon and Valencia. The vivacity of his 
 mind was remarkable in his infancy : he early evinced a 
 great aptitude for the sciences, particularly the legisla- 
 tive, and was thus soon distinguished as a jurist; and 
 by his ability in discussing and deciding the most intri- 
 cate cases, he acquired an extensive reputation. He was 
 soon weary of his civilian's honours, which he abandoned 
 suddenly for the military profession; but after some 
 actions suificient to show his courage and presence of 
 
28 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 mind, he became disgusted with this also ; and as at the 
 moment when this new feeling prevailed his father died, 
 and left him a considerable fortune, he resolved to for- 
 sake all pursuits, and to live as the capriciousness of his 
 fancy might dictate. It was at this period he became 
 attached to a widow with two daughters. She died. 
 Tlodrigo became the guardian of her children; he placed 
 one in a convent, and as the other was one of the great- 
 est beauties of the day, he reserved her for his mistress. 
 This was the celebrated Eosa Vanozza, by whom he had 
 five children, Francesco, Cesare, Lucrezia, and Giofre; 
 the name of the fifth is unknown. 
 
 Retired from public life, Eodrigo lived entirely se- 
 cluded amid his family, when he heard that his uncle, 
 who had ever loved him as a son, had been chosen Pope, 
 under the name of Calixtus III. But love had so 
 silenced the whispers of ambition that the exaltation of 
 his uncle became almost the source of fearful regret lest 
 it might recall him from his retreat. Accordingly, 
 instead of proceeding to Home, as another in his situa- 
 tion would have done, he was content with merely 
 addressing a letter to his Holiness, entreating the contin- 
 uance of his protecting kindness, and praying he might 
 enjoy the happiness of a long and prosperous pontificate. 
 This moderation of one of his relations, amid the grasp- 
 ing ambitions which met the pontiff at every step, partic- 
 ularly impressed Calixtus; he knew and felt the value 
 of Eodrigo, and, pressed on all sides by the importunities 
 of a miserable mediocrity, he more highly appreciated 
 the capacity which so modestly withdrew. He therefore 
 instantly replied; and his reply was an injunction to his 
 nephew to proceed immediately to Rome. 
 
 This letter destroyed those schemes of happiness that 
 Rodrigo had devised, and in the fulfilment of which he 
 
THE BORGIAS. 29 
 
 might have slumbered through life as an ordinary man, 
 had not fortune thus drawn him from so narrow a sphere. 
 Eodrigo was happy, Eodrigo was rich ; his evil passions, 
 if not extinct, were dormant ; he shrank from the con- 
 trast of the happy repose of his present mode of life with 
 the excited, ambitious career which the future offered. 
 He delayed his departure, in the hope that Calixtus 
 would forget him. The hope was unfulfilled; two 
 months afterward, a Roman prelate, the bearer of the 
 nomination of Eodrigo to a benefice of the annual value 
 of twenty thousand ducats, and a command to the incum- 
 bent to take immediate possession, arrived at Valencia. 
 He could no longer delay; he obeyed, therefore; but 
 since he was unwilling to sever himself from the source 
 of his happiness for eight years, Rosa Vanozza departed 
 also, and, whilst he proceeded to Rome, she journeyed 
 to Venice, accompanied by two servants, under the care 
 of a noble Spaniard, named Manuel Melchiori. Fortune 
 was faithful to her promises ; the Pope received him as 
 his son, and Rodrigo was made successively Archbishop 
 of Valencia, cardinal, deacon, and vice-chancellor. To 
 these, Calixtus added a revenue of forty thousand ducats ; 
 and thus, at scarcely thirty-five years of age, Rodrigo 
 was equal, both in wealth and power, to a prince. 
 
 It was with reluctance, however, that he accepted the 
 cardinalship, which fixed his residence at Rome; he 
 would have preferred the appointment of vicar-general 
 of the Church, — a position which offered greater facili- 
 ties of intercourse with his mistress and his family ; but 
 Calixtus pointed out the possibility of his future election 
 to the pontificate, and from that hour the thought of 
 being the supreme ruler of kings and nations so forcibly 
 mastered and absorbed aU the desires of his mind that the 
 vision which his uncle had presented was ever before his 
 
30 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 eyes. Thenceforward he displayed that intense hypoc- 
 risy which made him the most perfect incarnation of the 
 Evil One that has ever probably existed upon earth. 
 Eodrigo was no longer the same man; the words of 
 humility and repentance ever trembled on his lips ; with 
 downcast look he seemed to bend beneath the remorse of 
 his past life. Despising the wealth which he had ac- 
 quired, and which, being, as he said, the property of the 
 poor, ought to be distributed for their good, he spent his 
 life in churches, in monasteries, or hospitals, — acquir- 
 ing, even among his enemies, the reputation of a Solo- 
 mon for wisdom, of a Job for patience, and of Moses for 
 the promulgation of the Word of God. One person 
 only could estimate the value of the pious cardinal's 
 conversion, — that person was Rosa Vanozza. 
 
 This pious fraud was of advantage, for his protector 
 died after a reign of three years, three months, and nine- 
 teen days, and it was the opinion of his merits that alone 
 sustained him against the numerous enemies his rapid 
 fortune had raised up. Thus, during the entire pontifi- 
 cate of Pius II. he remained in seclusion, nor did he re- 
 appear until under Sixtus IV., who gave him the abbey 
 of Subiaco, and appointed him legate to the courts of 
 Aragon and Portugal. Upon his return, which took 
 place under the pontificate of Innocent VIII., he decided 
 upon removing his family to Rome; they were, there- 
 fore, brought thither by Don Melchiori, who from that 
 time passed as the husband of Vanozza, under the name 
 of Count Ferdinand of Castile. The Cardinal Eodrigo 
 welcomed the noble Spaniard as a compatriot and a 
 friend ; and he, intending to pass his life in retirement, 
 occupied for that purpose a house in the street Delia 
 Lungara, near the church Eegina Coeli, upon the banks 
 of the Tiber. It was here, after a day passed in prayer 
 
THE BORGIAS. 31 
 
 and works of piety, that Kodrigo came every evening to 
 lay aside the mask of hypocrisy he had worn. Then, 
 it was said (although of this no one can adduce proof), 
 commenced the most infamous practices. It was ru- 
 moured that incestuous intercourse was carried on be- 
 tween the parents and their children, and between 
 Lucrezia and her brothers; and these opinions were so 
 general that to silence them, or divert their current, 
 Eodrigo sent Cesare to study at Pisa, and married 
 Lucrezia to a young noble of Aragon, so that Vanozza 
 and her two sons alone remained at _Eome. Such was 
 his domestic life when Innocent VIII. died, and Kodrigo 
 Borgia was elected in his place. 
 
32 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 We have seen the means employed to secure the nomi- 
 nation. The five cardinals, therefore, who had not par- 
 ticipated in this act of simony, protested against its 
 ratification; but, no matter by what means, Eodrigo 
 had the majority; and, whether they were underhand 
 or not, he was, nevertheless, the two hundred and six- 
 teenth successor of St. Peter. Although he had thus 
 gained his end, Alexander VI. did not yet venture to 
 throw aside the mask so long worn by the Cardinal 
 Borgia; nevertheless, upon the announcement of his 
 election, he could not conceal his joy. With hands 
 upraised to heaven, and with the accent of satisfied 
 ambition, he cried : — 
 
 " Am I then Pope ? Am I, indeed , the vicar of 
 Christ, — the keystone of the arch of the Christian 
 world?" 
 
 "Yes, holy father," replied the Cardinal Ascanio 
 Sforza, the man who had sold the nine votes at his dis- 
 posal in the conclave, " yes; and we shall trust by this 
 election to have given glory to God, peace to the Church, 
 and joyful satisfaction to Christianity, inasmuch as you 
 have been chosen by the Eternal Spirit as more worthy 
 than your brethren. " 
 
 Short as was this reply, the new Pope had already 
 regained the complete mastery of his emotions, and in 
 a low voice, and with his hands crossed upon his breast, 
 he said: " It is our prayer, my brethren, that God may 
 
THE BORGIAS. 33 
 
 accord to us his merciful protection, and bless our 
 labours, as he did those of the Apostle to -whom he con- 
 fided the government of the Church, — a government 
 which, deprived of Divine assistance, we should be 
 totally unable to undertake ; but Heaven has promised 
 its spiritual direction to him that seeks it, and we pray 
 that it may be granted us. You, my brethren, we 
 doubt not will manifest to us that obedience which is 
 due to the head of the Church, imitating in this respect 
 the submission which the flock of Christ evinced toward 
 the chief of the apostles. " 
 
 This discourse finished, Alexander clothed himself 
 in the pontifical robes, and caused the slips of paper 
 upon which his name was written in Latin to be thrown 
 from the window; these, scattered by the wind, seemed 
 to bear to the world the news of the great event, so soon 
 to change the political destiny of Italy. 
 
 Cesare Borgia received the news of the election of 
 his father at the University of Pisa. He had some- 
 times indulged in reveries of such prosperous ambition; 
 nevertheless their fulfilment was unexpected, and his 
 joy almost extravagant. He was then a youth of about 
 two or three and twenty, adroit in all manly, and par- 
 ticularly martial exercises, riding unsaddled horses of 
 the highest spirit, and able to sever a bull's head from 
 his body by a single stroke of his sword. His disposi- 
 tion was haughty, jealous, and dissembling; according 
 to Tommasi, he was great among the impious, as his 
 brother Francesco was good among the great. As to his 
 personal appearance , even contemporaneous authors have 
 transmitted to us the most contradictory descriptions. 
 According to some, he was an abortion of ugliness, 
 whilst others, on the contrary, are highly laudatory of 
 his beauty. This contradiction arises from the circum- 
 
 VOL. I. — 3 
 
34 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 stance that at certain periods of the year, particularly in 
 spring, his face was covered with blotches, which made 
 him, for the time, an object of horror and disgust, 
 whilst during the rest of the year he appeared a thought- 
 ful-looking cavalier, with black flowing hair, pale com- 
 plexion, and auburn beard, such as he is represented in 
 the beautiful portrait painted of him by Eaphael. His- 
 torians, chroniclers, and painters, all are agreed upon 
 the intense expression of his eyes, describing them as 
 emitting an incessant lustre, and investing him with 
 the character of something infernal, or unearthly. 
 
 Such was the man whose hopes were to be so soon 
 gratified, and who had taken for his motto, Aut Caesar, 
 aut nihil, — "Caesar, or nothing." Upon his father's 
 election, he instantly departed for Eome, and scarcely 
 was he recognised at the gates when the honours paid 
 him bore witness to his change of fortune. At the 
 Vatican these were increased : the nobles bowed before 
 him, as to one greater than themselves. Thus impa- 
 tient, and without visiting his mother, or any other 
 member of his family, he went immediately to the 
 presence of the Pope, who, aware of his arrival, received 
 him amid a brilliant and numerous assembly of the 
 cardinals, his three brothers standing behind him. The 
 manner of his Holiness was kind, yet unaccompanied by 
 any marks of paternal feeling; he stooped and kissed 
 his son's forehead, and made inquiry as to his health, 
 and the mode of his return. Cesare rei^lied that he was 
 well, and entirely at the commands of his Holiness; 
 that, as for the short fatigues and trifling inconveniences 
 he had suffered during his return, they were more than 
 compensated by the joy he felt in thus submissively 
 offering his respects to one in every way so deserving of 
 the pontificate. At these words, leaving Cesare still 
 
THE BORGIAS. 35 
 
 kneeling, and reseating himself with dignity, the Pope, 
 with a calm and sedate manner and expression, after an 
 interval thus addressed him, sufficiently loud to be 
 heard by all , and slowly, so that every word might be 
 well considered and remembered : — 
 
 " We are well persuaded, Cesare, that you heartily 
 rejoice to see us thus elevated, so far beyond our merits, 
 to a height which it has pleased the Divine goodness to 
 permit us to ascend. That joy was due to us, first as 
 gratitude for the affection we have ever borne you, and 
 still bear ; and further on account of your own interest, 
 since you might justly hope to receive hereafter, from 
 our hands, the rewards that doubtless the excellence of 
 your life will merit. But if your joy (and we address 
 ourselves to you as we have already done to your 
 brothers) be founded on any other supposition, you 
 have then greatly deceived yourself, and assuredly you 
 will find, CesarCj every expectation disappointed. We 
 have aspired — perhaps, and we confess it with humility 
 before you all, with an immoderate desire — to the sov- 
 ereignty of the pontificate; to reach which we have 
 followed every path that human industry could open; 
 but we have done so with the solemn resolution that, 
 once arrived at the point to which it led, our way 
 thenceforward should be that only which leads toward 
 the more spiritual worship of the Deity, and a greater 
 veneration of the Holy See , — to the end that the 
 memory of the good we shall do may efface the igno- 
 minious recollection of the things which we have done. 
 And this, in such a manner that we shall be enabled, 
 we trust, to leave to our successors a route wherein, if 
 they trace not the steps of a saint, they may find and 
 follow at least those of a pontiff. He who has favoured 
 the means, now claims their result, and well disposed 
 
36 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 are we most fully to liquidate the debt contracted ; and 
 therefore is it we tremble to awake by fraud, on our 
 parts, the rigour of his justice. 
 
 " One hindrance could alone frustrate our designs : it 
 would be, to feel too great an interest in your advance- 
 ment. Thus have we steeled ourselves beforehand 
 against the influence of affection, and have prayed that 
 we may be sustained, that we falter not on your account, 
 for the pontiff who slips in the paths of favouritism 
 falls, and cannot fall without dishonour to the Holy 
 See. We shall deplore to the end of our life those 
 faults to which we owe the experience of this truth ; and 
 God grant that Calixtus, our uncle, suffer not even now 
 in purgatory from the weight of our sins, much rather 
 than by reason of his own. Alas! he was so richly 
 endowed with virtue, his heart was so disposed to good; 
 but he loved too much his kindred, and among them 
 ourselves, so that following blindly the dictates of this 
 feeling, he accumulated upon a few, and these the least 
 deserving, the benefits which should have recompensed 
 the merits of many. Indeed, he gathered unto our 
 house those treasures which he should not have amassed 
 to the deprivation of the poor, or which should have 
 been more righteously employed. He dismembered the 
 ecclesiastical States already so limited and unprotected, 
 
 — the duchy of Spoleto, as well as other rich domains, 
 
 — in order that we might possess them as fiefs ; he 
 trusted to our infirmities the oilices of vice-chancellor 
 and vice-prefect of Rome, the generalship of the Church, 
 and other grave responsibilities, which, instead of being 
 thus monopolised by us, should have been conferred on 
 those who were far more worthy of such rewards. 
 
 " There were some, indeed, elevated to offices of dig- 
 nity upon our recommendation, but whose only merit 
 
THE BORGIAS. 37 
 
 was our too partial favour, whilst others were neglected 
 or depressed, whose only fault was the jealousy they 
 inspired by their worth. To despoil Ferdinand of 
 Aragon of the kingdom of Naples, he kindled a terrible 
 war, the prosperous result of which only tended to aug- 
 ment our greatness, whilst defeat would have brought 
 only loss and dishonour to the Holy See. Finally, by 
 permitting himself to be thus governed by those who 
 sacrificed the public good to their private interests, he 
 prejudiced and endangered, not alone the pontificate, 
 but his renown, and that which was far more momentous, 
 his immortal soul. 
 
 "Nevertheless, behold the wisdom of the judgments 
 of God! firmly and constantly as he laboured for the 
 establishment of our fortunes, no sooner had his death 
 vacated the chair we occupy than we were thrown down 
 from the height we had reached, abandoned to the rage 
 of the people, and to the vindictive passions of those 
 Eoman nobles who resented, as a wrong to themselves, 
 the favours he had extended to their enemies. Inso- 
 much that, not only was it necessary to dispossess our- 
 selves of the wealth and dignities with which our uncle 
 had enriched us, but still more, to save our lives, and 
 those of our friends , to condemn ourselves to a voluntary 
 exile, — by the favour of which we were alone enabled 
 to shelter ourselves from the storm which the envy of 
 our greatness had excited. To us it brought the full 
 conviction that, God frustrating the designs of men, 
 when those designs are unjust, it is a great error for a 
 pontiff to direct his attention to the welfare of a house 
 which can be but of a few years' duration, rather than 
 to the prosperity of a Church which is ordained to be 
 eternal; that it is a foolish policy which, possessing a 
 power neither hereditary nor transmissive, seeks to erect 
 
38 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 dominion and greatness upon any basis but that of great 
 virtues, dedicated to the common good. Similarly also 
 is it with politicians, who seek to give duration to their 
 schemes by any other means than those which restrain 
 the unexpected whirlwinds which, rising, may raise a 
 tempest amid a calm, — that is, create a mass of enemies, 
 the determined action of one of whom will be more 
 destructive to their interests than the deceitful demon- 
 strations of a hundred friends. If you and your brothers 
 pursue the honourable path which we now open to you, 
 you will form no desire that will not be instantly grati- 
 fied; but if, on the contrary, you hope to find our afiec- 
 tion the handmaid of your irregular desires, you will 
 be quickly convinced that we are the pontiff for the 
 Church , and not for a family ; and that, as the vicar of 
 Christ, we desire to act as we shall judge to be for the 
 good of Christianity, but not as you may consider to be 
 for your advantage; and, this well understood, receive, 
 Cesare, our benediction." 
 
 With these words, Alexander VI. arose, laid his hand 
 upon his son, who was still kneeling, and then retired 
 to his apartments, without inviting him to follow. 
 
 The youth remained stupefied by a discourse so unex- 
 pected, and which destroyed at a single blow his long- 
 cherished expectations. Then, rising confused, and 
 tottering like a drunken man, he left immediately the 
 Vatican, and proceeded to his mother, of whom he had 
 not at first thought, and to whom he returned in his 
 distress. Vanozza united at once all the virtues and 
 the vices of a Spanish courtesan, — devout to the 
 Madonna to the lowest superstition; kind to her chil- 
 dren even unto weakness; submissive to Eodrigo, even 
 to debauchery; but, nevertheless, confident of the pos- 
 session of a power which she had wielded for thirty 
 
THE BORGIAS. 39 
 
 years, and certain, like the serpent, of being able to 
 crush in her folds when she could not fascinate by her 
 looks. 
 
 Vanozza knew the profound hypocrisy of her para- 
 mour, and consequently had no hesitation in reassuring 
 the hopes of Cesare. She was right so to do. In fact, 
 Alexander VI. , declaim as he might against the abuses 
 of family patronage, had already calculated the political 
 advantage he could derive from the concurrence of his 
 own family ; he felt that he might entirely rely, if not 
 upon Francesco and Giofre, at least upon Lucrezia and 
 Cesare. She, in truth, was the counterpart of her 
 brother. Licentious from an impure imagination, 
 impious from natural impulse, ambitious upon calcula- 
 tion, Lucrezia panted after pleasure, flattery, the honours 
 of rank, gold, jewels, rich dresses, and courtly palaces. 
 A Spaniard under her light hair, a courtesan under her 
 open, guileless manner, she had the features of one of 
 Raphael's Madonnas, and the heart of Messalina; she 
 was doubly dear to Rodrigo, who saw reflected in her 
 his passions and his vices. 
 
 At first nothing belied the principles which Alexander 
 had professed in his address to his son , and the first year 
 of his pontificate surpassed the hopes which the Romans 
 had indulged since his election. He so liberally pro- 
 vided for the supply of the public granaries that in the 
 memory of man there had never been such wondrous 
 abundance ; and that this blessing might descend to the 
 poorest, successive grants, raised upon his private for- 
 tune, enabled them to share in the general plenty, from 
 which they had been so long excluded. He provided 
 for the safety of the city, by establishing, a few days 
 after his accession, a vigilant police, and a court of 
 justice, composed of men of irreproachable reputation. 
 
40 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 charged with the prosecution of all those nocturnal out- 
 rages so frequent under the preceding pontificate that 
 even their number insured impunity; and the first judg- 
 ments of the newly appointed officers of justice indicated 
 a determined severity, which neither the rank nor 
 power of the accused could mitigate. This presented 
 so great a contrast with the preceding corruption, during 
 which the vice-chamberlain publicly replied to those 
 who denounced the venality of the tribunals, " God 
 willeth not the death of a sinner, but rather that he 
 should live, and purchase the pardon of his offences," 
 that the capital of the Christian world believed the pure 
 days of the pontificate now dawned on it again. 
 
 Thus, at the expiration of a year, Alexander had 
 regained the spiritual power his predecessors had lost. 
 It remained, toward the full success of the first outlines 
 of his colossal design, to re-establish also his political 
 influence. There were two modes of effecting this, — 
 by alliances or by conquests. He decided for the first. 
 The noble Aragonese who had married Lucrezia, at that 
 time merely the daughter of the Cardinal Eodrigo 
 Borgia, was neither by birth, fortune, nor genius 
 capable of mingling with any degree of influence in the 
 political intrigues of Alexander VI. Separation, there- 
 fore, was decreed to be divorce, and Lucrezia Borgia 
 was free to re-marry. 
 
 The Pope opened two negotiations at the same time ; 
 he required an ally who could carefully watch the 
 policy of the neighbouring States. Giovanni Sforza, 
 grandson of Alexander Sforza, brother of Francesco, 
 Duke of Milan, was lord of Pesaro, the local situation 
 of which near the sea, between Florence and Venice, 
 was most conveniently adapted for his purpose : he was 
 therefore selected; and as their interests were the same, 
 
THE BORGIAS. 41 
 
 Giovanni Sforza became soon the second husband of 
 Lucrezia. At the same time overtures had been made 
 to Alfonso of Aragon, to conclude a marriage between 
 Donna Sancia, his natural daughter, and Giofrd, the 
 third son of the Pope; but as Ferdinand wished to 
 obtain every possible advantage by this alliance, he 
 delayed the negotiations, alleging that the children 
 were not yet of a marriageable age, and that conse- 
 quently, how great soever the honour of such an alliance, 
 nothing at present urged its fulfilment. Thus affairs 
 stood, to the great discontent of Alexander, who did not 
 deceive himself as to the real cause of this evasion, but 
 received it as it was meant — for a refusal. Alexander 
 and Ferdinand retained then their former positions, 
 political gamesters of equal skill, and waiting till 
 events should declare for the one or the other. Fortune 
 decided for Alexander. 
 
42 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Italy, although at peace, felt instinctively that it was 
 but the calm which precedes the storm. She was too 
 rich, too prosjserous, not to be a source of envy to all 
 other nations. The neglect and jealousy of the Floren- 
 tine republic had not yet converted, indeed, the plains of 
 Pisa into a swamp ; the contests of the Colonna and the 
 Orsini had not yet changed the rich campagna of Rome 
 into a barren desert; the Marquis of Marignano had not 
 yet razed to the ground one hundred and twenty villages 
 in the republic of Sienna alone ; the " Marenima" were 
 unwholesome, but not then deadly ; and Flavio Bionao, 
 in 1450, describing Ostia, which now reckons but thirty 
 residents, remarks that it was less flourishing than dur- 
 ing the time of the Romans, — that is, when it com- 
 prised fifty thousand. The peasantry of Italy were at 
 this period in the most prosperous condition : instead of 
 living scattered and separated from one another, they 
 inhabited well-enclosed towns, which protected their har- 
 vests and cattle; and their houses, at least such as remain, 
 exhibit more of taste, of art, and wealth than those of 
 our citizens at the present time ; and this union of com- 
 mon interests, this confederacy of individuals in fortified 
 villages, had by degrees given them an importance which 
 neither the peasantry of Prance nor the serfs of Germany 
 had ever possessed. They were armed, had a common 
 treasury, and magistrates of their own choice ; and when 
 they fought, at least they fought for the defence of their 
 country. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 43 
 
 Kor was commerce less flourishing than agriculture. 
 Manufactories of silk, wool, hemp, furs, alum, sulphur, 
 and bitumen were everywhere seen ; productions not in- 
 digenous to the soil were brought from the Black Sea, 
 Egypt, Spain, and France, and reshipped frequently for 
 the countries whence they had been imported, after the 
 labour of the artist had redoubled their value ; the rich 
 contributed their merchandise, the poor their labour ; the 
 one was sure not to be deprived of industry, the other 
 not to want occupation. 
 
 Nor had the fine arts been neglected; Dante, Giotto, 
 Brunelleschi, Donatello were dead, but Ariosto, Raphael, 
 Bramante, and Michael Angelo were rising. Rome, 
 Florence, and Naples inherited the chefs-d'mwores of 
 antiquity; and the manuscripts of ^schylus, of Sopho- 
 cles, and Euripides, owing to the conquest of Mahomet 
 II., had been added to the statues of Xantippus, Phidias, 
 and Praxiteles. 
 
 The principal sovereigns of Italy, when viewing these 
 plains waving with the most abundant harvests, the 
 wealthy villages, flourishing manufactories, and richly 
 decorated churches, and then remarking the comparative 
 barbarism of the nations which surrounded them, were 
 well aware, however uncertain the time, that their coun- 
 try would yet become to other nations what America was 
 to Spain, — a vast mine of gold to work and pillage. 
 Consequently, from 1480, Naples, Milan, Florence, and 
 Ferrara had signed a league offensive and defensive for 
 mutual protection. Ludovico Sforza, from the contiguity 
 of his possessions to France, the most interested in its 
 maintenance, saw in the election of Alexander a fresh 
 opportunity, not only of rendering it closer, but also of 
 impressing upon Europe an opinion of its power and 
 unity. 
 
44 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 It was customary upon the election of a pontiff for the 
 Christian States to send a solemn embassy to Rome, to 
 renew in the name of each their vows of ohedience to the 
 Holy See. Ludovico Sforza conceived the project of 
 assembling the ambassadors of the four powers so as to 
 enable them to make their public entry together into 
 Rome upon the same day, and to commission one only of 
 their number, the envoy of the King of Naples, to ad- 
 dress the pontiff in behalf of all. The plan was not, 
 unhappily, in accordance with the splendid designs of 
 Pietro de' Medici. This proud youth, who had been ap- 
 pointed ambassador from the Florentine republic, saw in 
 the mission intrusted to him by his fellow-citizens an 
 opportunity only of displaying his love of ostentation 
 and his wealth. From the day of his appointment, his 
 palace was thronged with tailors, jewellers, and merchants 
 of stuffs. He had prepared the richest dresses, embroi- 
 dered with precious stones taken from the acquisitions 
 of his family. The richest jewels were stuck upon 
 the clothes of his pages, one of whom, his favourite, 
 wore a collar of pearls valued at one hundred thousand 
 ducats. 
 
 On the other hand, the Bishop of Arezzo, Gentile, 
 who had been the preceptor of Lorenzo, who was ap- 
 pointed the coadjutor of Pietro, and upon whom devolved 
 the duty of offering the congratulations of the republic, 
 had prepared his discourse and relied as much upon the 
 charms of his eloquence to influence his hearers as Pietro 
 upon his wealth to dazzle the spectators. Now the elo- 
 quence of the former was merely thrown away if the 
 address were delivered by the envoy of the King of 
 Naples, and the magnificent retinue of Pietro would be 
 unobserved if he entered Rome amid the mixed cohort 
 of the other ambassadors. And these two important 
 
THE BORGIAS. 46 
 
 interests, compromised by the proposal of the Duke of 
 Milan, revolutionised the state of Italy! 
 
 FerdLaand had already agreed to the plan suggested by 
 Ludovico Sforza, when, influenced by Pietro, he sud- 
 denly withdrew his consent. Sforza sought the cause of 
 this retractation, and found that the influence which had 
 overcome his own was that of Pietro. Unable to com- 
 prehend the real motives which had prompted this oppo- 
 sition, he saw in it a secret league against him, and 
 attributed it to a change of policy consequent upon the 
 death of Lorenzo. Whatever the cause might be, it was 
 evidently detrimental to his interests. Florence, the old 
 ally of Milan, abandoned him for Naples. He resolved 
 to equalise the scale, and, revealing to Alexander the 
 policy of Pietro and Ferdinand, he proposed an alliance, 
 offensive and defensive, to include also the repubHc of 
 Venice, while at the same time the Duke of Ferrara 
 should be summoned to decide which party he would 
 join. Alexander, mortified by the previous conduct of 
 Ferdinand, accepted the proposals of Ludovico ; and the 
 confederation, by which the new allies bound themselves 
 to maintain, for the preservation of the public peace, an 
 army of twenty thousand horse and ten thousand foot 
 soldiers, was signed on the 22d of April, 1493. 
 
 Ferdinand watched this alliance with anxiety, but he 
 thought to neutralise its effects by stripping Ludovico 
 Sforza of his dominions ; he therefore claimed from the 
 Duke of Milan the resignation of the sovereign power into 
 the hands of his nephew, with the threat otherwise of de- 
 claring him a usurper. The blow was terrible, but carried 
 with it the risk of urging Ludovico to one of those polit- 
 ical combinations before which he never recoiled, how- 
 ever dangerous they might be. This actually occurred. 
 Sforza, disturbed in the possession of his duchy, resolved 
 
46 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 to menace Ferdinand with the loss of his kingdom. 
 Nothing was more easy; he knew the warlike inclina- 
 tions of Charles VIII., and the pretensions of the crown 
 of France to the throne of Naples. He despatched two 
 ambassadors to urge the youthful monarch to claim the 
 rights of the house of Anjou usurped by that of Aragon; 
 and the further to engage him in so distant and hazardous 
 an enterprise, he offered him a free and friendly passage 
 for his troops through his territories. 
 
 Such a proposal made to Charles VIII. could not fail; 
 a radiant horizon extended itself around as if by enchant- 
 ment; what Ludovico Sforza offered him was the control 
 of the Mediterranean, the government of Italy; and it 
 was also through Naples and Venice that the way was 
 opened for the conquest of Turkey or the Holy Land, 
 according as inclination led him to revenge the disasters 
 of Nicopolis or of Mansourah. The proposal was gladly 
 accepted; and, through the medium of Count Charles of 
 Belgiojoso and Count of Cajazzo for Ludovico Sforza, 
 and of the Bishop of St. Malo and the S&^chal de 
 Beaucaire for Charles VIII., a secret convention was 
 signed by which it was agreed : that the King of France 
 should attempt the conquest of the kingdom of Naples; 
 that the Duke of Milan should open to the King of 
 France a passage through his estates, and should join 
 him with five hundred lances ; that the Duke of Milan 
 should permit the King of France to arm as many vessels 
 at Genoa as he might require ; finally, that the Duke of 
 Milan should lend to the King of France two hundred 
 thousand ducats, payable upon his departure. 
 
 Upon his side Charles engaged : to defend the indi- 
 vidual authority of Ludovico Sforza over the duchy of 
 Milan against whoever should attempt to deprive him 
 of it; to leave in Asti, a city belonging to the Duo 
 
THE BORGIAS. 47 
 
 d' Orleans, two hundred Trench lances, always ready to 
 succour the house of Sforza ; lastly, to surrender to his 
 ally the principality of Tarentum, upon the conquest of 
 the kingdom of Naples. The treaty scarcely concluded, 
 Charles, who overrated its results, sought instantly to 
 free himself from every hindrance that might possibly 
 retard or shackle his design. This was a requisite pre- 
 caution, for his relations with the great European 
 powers were far from being such as he could desire. 
 Henry VII. had landed at Calais with a formidable 
 army, and menaced France with another invasion. Fer- 
 dinand and Isabella of Spain, if they had not contributed 
 towards the fall of the house of Anjou, had, at least, 
 assisted the branch of Aragon with money and soldiers. 
 The war with the King of the Romans was excited still 
 more by the return of Marguerite of Burgundy to 
 Maximilian, her father, and the marriage that Charles 
 had contracted with Anne of Brittany. By the treaty 
 of Naples, dated the 3rd of November, 1492, Henry 
 VII. withdrew himself from his alliance with the King 
 of the Romans, and engaged no further to pursue his 
 conquests. 
 
 This cost Charles VIII. seven hundred and forty-five 
 thousand crowns of gold, and the expenses of the war in 
 Brittany. By the treaty of Barcelona, dated the 19th 
 of January, 1493, Ferdinand and Isabella were bound 
 not to assist their cousin, the King of Naples, and to 
 offer no opposition to the projects of the court of France 
 with regard to Italy. This cost Charles VIII. Per- 
 pignan, the county of Rousillon, and La Cerdagne, 
 which Juan of Aragon had pledged to Louis XL for 
 three hundred thousand ducats, and of which Louis XI. 
 had refused the equitable redemption, so clearly did the 
 royal old fox perceive the importance of those gates 
 
48 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 opening upon the Pyrenees, whicli, in case of war, he 
 could close from within. Finally, by the treaty of 
 Senlis, dated the 23rd of May, 1493, Maximilian con- 
 descended to forgive France the insult he had received 
 from its king. This cost Charles VIII. the countries 
 of Burgundy, Artois, Charolais, and the signory of 
 Noyers, which he had received as the dowry of Mar- 
 guerite; and, moreover, the cities of Aire, Hesdin, and 
 Bethune, which he engaged to deliver up to Philip of 
 Austria, upon his attaining his majority. 
 
 At the expense of these sacrifices, Charles was at 
 peace with his neighbours, and could now undertake the 
 project suggested to him by Ludovico Sforza, who had 
 conceived it, piqued at the refusal to concur in his plan 
 for the deputation, — a refusal arising from the desire of 
 Pietro de' Medici to display his costly jewels, and of 
 Gentile to manifest his eloquence. Thus the vanity 
 of a pedant and the pride of a scholar were about to 
 convulse the world from the gulf of Tarentum to the 
 Pyrenees. Alexander VI., in the centre of this extend- 
 ing earthquake, of which as yet Italy had not felt the 
 shocks, had profited hy the absorbing interests of the 
 times, to falsify in the first instance the opinions he 
 had avowed, by creating Juan Borgia, his nephew, — 
 who had been in the preceding pontificate made Bishop 
 of Montreal and Governor of Rome, — a cardinal. 
 
 This promotion was announced without the slightest 
 opposition; it was a feeler put forth by Alexander, and 
 its success induced him shortly after to collate Cesare 
 Borgia to the archbishopric of Valencia, — a benefice he 
 himself had held prior to his election to the pontificate. 
 But here the opposition was from the side of the recipient 
 of the gift. The impetuous youth, with all the pas- 
 sions and the vices of a captain of condottieri, felt 
 
THE BORGIAS. 49 
 
 repugnance to assume even the mere appearance of the 
 clerical virtues; but knowing, from his father's positive 
 assertion, that the higher secular dignities were reserved 
 for his eldest brother, he decided upon accepting the 
 proffered benefit, for fear of obtaining nothing else; but 
 his hate of Francesco was increased, for thenceforth he 
 was doubly his rival, — in love and in the paths of 
 ambition. 
 
 Suddenly Alexander VI. received overtures from 
 Ferdinand; but he was too wary a politician to welcome 
 this return without inquiring into its cause. He soon 
 learnt the designs of the court of France against the 
 kingdom of Naples, and all was explained. It was 
 now his turn to dictate the terms of an alliance. He 
 required, then, the immediate marriage of Giofr^, his 
 third son, with Donna Sancia, the natural daughter of 
 Alfonso. He required, as her dowry, the principality 
 of Squillace, and the county of Cariati, with a revenue 
 of ten thousand ducats, and the rank of prothonotary , 
 which was one of the seven chief offices of the crown, 
 for her husband. He required for his eldest son, whom 
 Ferdinand the Catholic had created Duke of G-andia, 
 the principality of Tucarico, the counties of Chiara- 
 monte, Lauria, and Carinola, with an annuity of twelve 
 thousand ducats , and the appointment to the first of the 
 seven great offices which might become vacant. He 
 required that Virginio Orsini, his ambassador at the 
 Neapolitan court, should hold the third of these offices, 
 which was that of constable, the highest of all. Lastly, 
 he required that Giuliano della Eovere, one of the five 
 cardinals who had protested against his election, and 
 who had intrenched himself at Ostia, should be forced 
 to quit that city, which was to be placed in his posses- 
 sion. And all that he required was conceded. 
 
 VOL. I. — 4 
 
50 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 In return, the Pope engaged only, not to withdraw 
 from the house of Aragon the investiture of the king- 
 dom of Naples, which had been granted to it by his 
 predecessors. This was paying rather a high price 
 for a simple promise; but upon this promise, if faith- 
 fully kept, depended the legitimacy of Ferdinand's 
 power. For Naples was a fief of the Holy See; and 
 to the Pope alone belonged the right of deciding the 
 equitable claims of each competitor. The continuance 
 of the investiture was of the highest importance, there- 
 fore, to the house of Aragon, at the moment when 
 that of Anjou was rising in arms, to strip it of its 
 possessions. 
 
 Thus a year had scarcely elapsed since his accession, 
 and Alexander had greatly promoted the extension of 
 his political power. He himself held, it is true, the 
 least of the Italian States, but by the alliance of his 
 daughter Lucrezia with the sovereign of Pesaro, and 
 that of the Prince of Squillace with Donna Sancia, 
 together with the territorial concessions made to the 
 Duke of Gandia, his influence extended from Venice to 
 the confines of Calabria. 
 
 This treaty, so advantageous for him, being once 
 signed, as Cesare complained of being invariably neg- 
 lected in the distribution of the paternal bounty, he 
 created him cardinal of Santa Maria Novella. But as 
 hitherto the Church could not produce an instance of a 
 bastard assuming the purple, the Pope found four wit- 
 nesses who avouched Cesare to be the son of Count 
 Ferdinand of Castile. Don Melchiori was in fact an 
 inestimable man ; he played the character of father with 
 as much natural ease as that of husband. The marriage 
 of his natural children, however afiiliated, was cele- 
 brated with due splendour, with the pomp of royalty 
 
THE BORGIAS. 51 
 
 and of the Church; and as the Pope had arranged that 
 they should reside near him, the new cardinal, Cesare 
 Borgia, undertook the regulations both of their entry 
 and reception at Rome, to which Lucrezia, who enjoyed 
 an influence unexampled at the papal court, desired to 
 add all the eclat in her power. The one, therefore, 
 proceeded to receive the bride with a magnificent escort 
 of cardinals and nobles, whilst the other awaited their 
 arrival in one of the halls of the Vatican, surrounded by 
 the noblest and most beautiful ladies of Eome. A 
 throne was erected there for the Pope, and at his feet 
 were placed cushions for Lucrezia and Donna Sancia; 
 " so that, " says Tommaso Tommasi , " by the appearance 
 of the assembly, the general conversation, and manners 
 which prevailed, one might rather have imagined him- 
 self present at the splendid and voluptuous audience of 
 a king of Assyria rather than at the severe consistory of 
 a Eoman pontiff, who ought in every action to add 
 brighter purity to the sacred name he bears. But," 
 adds the same historian, "if the vigils of Pentecost 
 were so becomingly passed, the ceremonies with which, 
 upon the following day, they celebrated the descent of 
 the Holy Spirit, were not less reverential, nor less in 
 accordance with the spirit of the Church. " Here fol- 
 lows what the master of the ceremonies has entered in 
 his daily journal : — 
 
 " The Pope entered the Basilica of the Holy Apostles, and 
 near him were seated, by the marble desks, where generally 
 the canons of St. Peter chant the epistle and the gospel, 
 Lucrezia, his daughter, and Sancia, his daughter-in-law ; and 
 around them, to the disgrace of the Chnrch and the extreme 
 scandal of the people, many more Eoman ladies, much more 
 worthy of inhabiting the city of Messalina than that of St. 
 Peter." 
 
52 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Thus, at Eome and Naples, they slept amid the expec- 
 tations of the coming storm ; thus they wasted time and 
 dissipated their treasure; and this whilst the French, 
 alert and eager, shook on high the torches with which 
 they were about to wrap Italy in flames. The ambi- 
 tious intentions of Charles VIII. were, indeed, now no 
 longer a matter of doubt. The young king had sent an 
 embassy, composed of Perron de Baschi, of Bri5onnet, 
 of Aubigny, and the president of the parliament of 
 Provence, to the different States of Italy, whose instruc- 
 tions were to require from the Italian princes their 
 co-operation in recovering for the house of Anjou the 
 rights usurped by the crown of Aragon. 
 
 Overtures were first made by them to the Venetians, 
 whose advice and assistance they solicited on the part 
 of the king, their master; but the Venetians, faithful to 
 their political system, which had earned for them the 
 nickname of the "Jews of Christianity," replied that 
 they regretted they could not assist the young king, 
 their troops being necessarily always under arms to 
 guard against surprise by the Turks; and that as for 
 advice, they were far from presuming to proffer it to a 
 prince surrounded by experienced generals and the wisest 
 councillors. 
 
 Perron de Baschi, unable to obtain any other reply, 
 next addressed himself to Florence. Pietro de' Medici 
 received him in full council, having for this purpose 
 assembled not only the seventy, but also all the gon- 
 falonieri belonging to the signory for the last thirty- 
 four years. The ambassador requested a passage for the 
 French troops through the States of the republic, and 
 their requisite supplies of provisions and forage, at the 
 expense of the king. The republic replied that if the 
 army of Charles were directed against the Turks , instead 
 
THE BORGIAS. 53 
 
 of against Ferdinand, they would most readily assent to 
 his request; but, connected as they were with the house 
 of Aragon by a formal treaty, they could not betray it 
 by complying with this proposal. Whereupon they 
 proceeded to Sienna. This inconsiderable republic, 
 alarmed by the honour of the king's attention, answered 
 that it was their fervent desire to maintain an exact 
 neutrality, the State being too weak to declare itself 
 beforehand for or against such rivals, obliged as it 
 necessarily would be to follow the banners of the 
 victor. 
 
 Provided with this reply, which at least had the 
 merit of frankness to recommend it, the envoys set for- 
 ward to Eome, and, at an audience of the Pope, 
 demanded on behalf of their master the investiture of 
 the kingdom of Naples. Alexander replied that, his 
 predecessors having given this to the princes of the 
 house of Aragon, he could not withdraw it without proof 
 that the house of Anjou had stronger claims than he 
 whom they sought to dispossess; further, he reminded 
 Perron de Baschi that, Naples being a fief of the Holy 
 See, to the Pope alone belonged the right of appoint- 
 ing the sovereign, and that consequently to attack the 
 present possessor of the throne was to war with the 
 Church. 
 
 The result of the embassy was not very promising to 
 Charles; he resolved, therefore, to rely for aid only upon 
 his ally, Ludovico Sforza, and to refer all other points 
 to the decision of the sword. The news which reached 
 him about the same time still further confirmed his 
 resolution : it was the death of Ferdinand. On return- 
 ing from the chase, the aged monarch was attacked by 
 a catarrhal cough, from the effects of which he died on 
 the 25th of January, 1494, at tlie age of seventy, after 
 
54 CELEBRATED CHIMES. 
 
 a reign of thirty -six years, leaving his throne to his 
 eldest son, Alfonso, who was immediately proclaimed 
 his successor. 
 
 The new king was not a novice in war, — had already 
 "earned his spurs;" he had fought, and successfully; 
 against the Florentines and Venetians, and had driven 
 the Turks from Otranto; he passed, moreover, for a man 
 as subtle as his father in the tortuous policy then so 
 much prized and employed by the several courts of 
 Italy; nor did he despair of being enabled to enrol, 
 even among his allies, Bajazet II., with whom he was 
 then at war. When he was made acquainted with the 
 designs of Charles, he despatched, therefore, Camillo 
 Pandone to Bajazet to awaken his attention to the fact 
 that the Italian expedition was but a mere pretext of 
 the King of France to advance nearer the Mahometan 
 conquests; and that, once upon the Adriatic, Charles 
 could transport in two days his army to Macedonia, 
 and, by land, thence march upon Constantinople. He 
 required, therefore, from the emperor, in defence of 
 their common interests, six thousand horse and as many 
 foot-soldiers, to be maintained at his cost during their 
 service in Italy. Pandone was to have been joined at 
 Tarentum by Giorgio Bucciarda, commissioned by the 
 Pope to solicit also in his name the aid of the Turks 
 against the Christians. But whilst awaiting the reply 
 of Bajazet, which might be for some months delayed, 
 Alfonso proposed a meeting between the Pope, Pietro 
 de' Medici, and himself, to deliberate upon points of 
 urgency. This meeting was fixed at Vico-varo, near 
 Tivoli, where the ."several members of it met upon the 
 day appointed. Alfonso, who, upon his departure from 
 Naples, had already arranged his plan of naval opera- 
 tions, and given to his brother Frederic the command of 
 
THE BORGIAS. 65 
 
 a fleet of thirty-five galleys, eighteen large and twelve 
 smaller vessels-of-v?ar, with which to watch the fleet 
 which Charles was arming in the port of Genoa, was 
 now more particularly bent upon concerting with his 
 allies the opening of the campaign by land. He had at 
 his immediate disposal, and without reckoning the con- 
 tingent his allies were engaged to furnish, one hundred 
 squadrons of heavy cavalry and three thousand cross- 
 bowmen and light-horse. He proposed, therefore, to 
 advance immediately upon Lombardy to eflect a revolu- 
 tion in favour of Galeasso and to drive Ludovico Sforza 
 from Milan before the French army should arrive; so 
 that at the instant he descended the Alps Charles should 
 find an enemy it would be requisite to combat, instead 
 of an ally who had promised a free passage through his 
 dominions, together with troops and money. 
 
 This was a proposal at once of a great politician and 
 of a daring commander; but as each was intent on his 
 private interests, and not on the public good, this advice 
 was coldly received by Pietro, who saw in it no greater 
 part allotted him to play in war than had been proposed 
 in the embassy ; and was directly opposed by Alexander, 
 who calculated upon the employment of the troops of 
 Alfonso for his own advantage. He reminded, there- 
 fore, the King of Naples that one of the promised 
 conditions of the investiture was the expulsion of the 
 Cardinal Giuliano della Eovere from the city of Ostia, 
 and the cession of that city to him, according to the 
 articles of the treaty. Moreover, the favours conferred 
 upon Virginio Orsini, consequent upon his embassy to 
 Naples, had raised against him the enmity of Prospero 
 Colonna and his brother, to whom belonged all the 
 villages lying around Eome. 
 
 Now the Pope could not be left exposed to such 
 
56 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 powerful enemies, and the most pressing point was, 
 therefore, his deliverance; it being most important that 
 he should be in safety, inasmuch as the Holy See was 
 the life and soul of a league of which the others were 
 but the trunk and members. Although Alfonso very 
 readily detected the flimsy motives which influenced 
 Pietro de' Medici, whilst Alexander had scarcely 
 rendered it requisite for him to inquire for a moment as 
 to his, he was yet obliged to yield to the decision of 
 his allies, leaving to the one the defence of the Apen- 
 nines, and aiding the other in ridding himself of his 
 Eomagnese neighbours. He pressed, therefore, the 
 siege of Ostia, and gave to Virginio, who then com- 
 manded two hundred men-at-arms of the Pope's, a 
 squadron of his light-horse, with orders to encamp about 
 Rome and keep the Colonna in check. The remainder 
 of his troops he divided into two divisions, the one 
 under the command of his son Ferdinand, with which 
 to scour the Eomagna and compel the several petty 
 princes to furnish their promised contingents, whilst 
 he himself with the other defended the passes of the 
 Abruzzi. 
 
 On the 23rd of April Alexander was relieved from 
 the first and the most dangerous of his enemies. 
 Giuliano della Eovere, seeing the impossibility of with- 
 standing the troops of Alfonso, embarked on board a 
 brigantine which was to convey him to Savona. As for 
 Virginio Orsini, he commenced from that day the cele- 
 brated partisan war which has converted the campagna 
 of Rome into the most poetic desert of the earth. 
 
 In the mean time Charles VIII. was at Lyons, not 
 only uncertain as to the route he should take, but begin- 
 ning even to reflect upon the hazard of the expedition. 
 Ludovico Sforza excepted, he had met with no support, 
 
THE BORGIAS. 57 
 
 so that it was not improbable that he would find not 
 only the kingdom of Naples, but Italy, against him. 
 He had expended almost all the funds at his disposal in 
 the mere preparations for war; the Lady of Beaujeu and 
 the Due de Bourbon condemned strenuously the enter- 
 prise ; BriQonnet, its adviser, shrunk from its defence ; 
 finally, more irresolute than ever, Charles had already 
 countermanded the advance of some portion of his 
 troops, when the Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, 
 expelled from Italy by the Pope, arrived at Lyons, and 
 sought an audience of the king. He hastened to his 
 presence , urged at once by hate and the hope of revenge , 
 and found Charles prepared to abandon his designs. He 
 related to him the division which prevailed amongst 
 his enemies, and its cause; he showed him how each 
 was governed by self-interest; Pietro de' Medici follow- 
 ing the dictates of his pride, Alexander seeking only 
 the political advancement of his house. He pointed 
 out that his fleets already occupied the ports of Villa 
 Franca, Marseilles, and Genoa, of which the equipments 
 would be lost; he reminded him that he had already 
 sent Pierre d'Urfe, his master of the horse, to prepare 
 a splendid residence for him in the palaces of the 
 Spinolas and the Dorias. Lastly, he depicted the 
 ridicule, the disgrace, which would inevitably accrue, 
 if he abandoned an enterprise so loudly vaunted, and 
 for the execution of which he had been compelled 
 to sign treaties so onerous in their conditions as those 
 with Henry VII., Maximilian, and Ferdinand the 
 Catholic. 
 
 Giuliano della Eovere had aimed well ; he struck the 
 pride of the young king, who no longer hesitated. He 
 ordered his cousin, the Due d' Orleans, to take the com- 
 mand of the fleet, and repair immediately to Genoa, and 
 
58 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 he despatched a courier to Antoine de Bassey, Baron of 
 Tricastel, with directions to lead to Asti the two thou- 
 sand foot soldiers whom he had raised in the Swiss 
 cantons. Lastly, he himself advanced from Vienne in 
 Dauphiny on the 23rd of August, crossed the Alps at 
 Mont Genevre without the slightest opposition, and 
 descended into Piedmont and the Montferrat, which 
 were then governed by two regents, the Princes Charles 
 Jean Aime and Guillaume Jean, the sovereigns of these 
 two principal cities being, the one six, the other eight 
 years of age. They advanced to meet Charles, each at 
 the head of a numerous and brilliant court, and both 
 shining with jewels and precious stones. Charles, aware 
 that, notwithstanding their friendly indications, they 
 had, nevertheless, signed a treaty with his enemy, 
 received them with the greatest courtesy ; and , as they 
 were profuse in their professions of amity, he suddenly 
 required of them a proof; it was to lend him the 
 diamonds they then wore. The two regents could but 
 obey a request which possessed all the characteristics of 
 a command. They took off their collars, rings, and ear- 
 rings, for which Charles gave them a detailed receipt; 
 he then pledged them for 24,000 ducats. Provided 
 with this money, he advanced towards Asti, of which 
 the Due d' Orleans had retained the sovereignty, and 
 where he was joined by Ludovico Sforza and his father- 
 in-law, the Duke of Perrara. They brought with them 
 not only the troops and money agreed upon, but a court 
 also, composed of the handsomest ladies of Italy. Balls, 
 festivals, and tourneys then commenced, with a mag- 
 nificence which surpassed anything previously witnessed 
 in Italy. 
 
 But these were suddenly interrupted by the illness of 
 the king. This was the first indication in Italy of that 
 
THE BORGIAS. 59 
 
 infection, brought by Columbus from the new world, 
 called by the Italians the French, by the French the 
 Italian, disease. The greater probability is that a part 
 of the crew of Columbus, then at Genoa, or in its 
 environs, had already introduced from America that 
 strange and cruel equivalent for its mines of gold. 
 Restored to health at the expiration of a few weeks, 
 Charles advanced to Pavia, whither, in a dying state, 
 proceeded also the young Duke Juan Galeasso. The 
 King of France and he were cousins-german, sons of 
 two sisters of the house of Savoy. He accordingly 
 could not avoid an interview, and went, therefore, to 
 the castle in which he resided far more as a prisoner 
 than as its lord. He found Charles half recumbent 
 upon a couch, pale and exhausted by voluptuous habits, 
 according to some ; a victim of a slow and mortal poison , 
 according to others. But how great soever his desire to 
 obtain redress, the poor youth dared not address the 
 king, for his uncle Ludovico Sforza did not for one 
 instant quit his presence. But at the moment when 
 Charles arose to depart, a door opened and a graceful 
 woman in the bloom of youth appeared, who threw her- 
 self at his feet ; it was the wife of the unfortunate Juan 
 Galeasso, who earnestly supplicated him to abandon his 
 designs against Alfonso and his brother Ferdinand. 
 Upon this the brow of Sforza became contracted, gloomy, 
 and menacing, as of one uncertain what impression this 
 might produce on his ally ; but he was soon reassured. 
 Charles replied that it was now too late to retract, that 
 it concerned the glory of his name and the interest of 
 his kingdom, — motives too important to be sacrificed 
 to any feeling of pity, however earnest and sincere. 
 The unhappy wife, whose last hope rested on this attempt, 
 rose, and threw herself sobbing into the arms of her 
 
60 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 husband; Charles VIII. and Ludovico Sforza departed. 
 The fate of Juan Galeasso was sealed. 
 
 The third day after this occurrence, Charles advanced 
 toward Florence, accompanied by his ally, but they had 
 hardly reached Parma before a messenger arrived, and 
 announced to Ludovico Sforza the death of his nephew. 
 Ludovico expressed his regret that he must now leave 
 the king to continue his journey alone, but the events 
 which recalled him to Milan were of such import, he 
 said, that his presence under the circumstances could 
 not longer be delayed. It was true ; he went to inherit 
 the succession of the man he had murdered. Charles 
 nevertheless continued his march, though not without 
 inquietude. The sight of the dying prince had deeply 
 affected him; he was strongly impressed with the con- 
 viction that Ludovico had caused his death, and he felt 
 that an assassin could become a traitor. His way lay 
 through a country with which he was unacquainted; 
 before him an avowed enemy, upon his rear a doubtful 
 friend; they were entering the mountainous defiles; 
 where, as the army was not regularly provisioned, but 
 subsisted on the day's supply, the slightest check might 
 cause a famine. Before them was Fivizzano, — merely 
 a small fortified town, it is true, but behind them rose 
 the fortresses of Sarzana and Pietra Santa, which were 
 considered impregnable; and in addition they were 
 traversing a country at all times unwholesome, more 
 particularly so in October, the only product of which 
 was oil, obtaining its corn even from the neighbouring 
 districts; thus the entire army might be in a few days 
 destroyed by malaria and want, even more readily than 
 by the facilities of attack which every step of ground 
 offered to an opponent. 
 
 The situation was perilous; but the pride of Pietro 
 
THE BORGIAS. 61 
 
 de' Medici again freed Charles from his embarrassments. 
 Pietro had engaged, as has been stated, to defend Tuscany 
 against the French; but, relying less confidently upon 
 his own troops, as he witnessed their descent of the 
 Alps, he demanded succours from the Pope. The 
 rumour, however, of this ultramontane invasion had 
 been scarcely bruited about Eomagna, when the Colonnas 
 raised their standard in the name of the King of France, 
 and, collecting all their forces, made themselves masters 
 of Ostia, where they awaited the French fleet in order 
 to offer him a passage toward Rome. Thus the Pope, 
 instead of despatching troops to Florence, was obliged 
 to recall his forces around his capital; he therefore 
 merely promised Pietro that, if Bajazet sent him the 
 troops he had solicited, he would immediately place 
 them at his disposal. Pietro de' Medici was still irreso- 
 lute and undecided, when he learnt that the Marquis of 
 Tordinovo had betrayed to the French the unprotected 
 side of Fivizzano, so that the French had carried it by 
 storm, and had put the garrison and inhabitants to the 
 sword; whilst about the same time Gilbert de Mont- 
 pensier, who watched the coast, to keep open the com- 
 munications between the army and the fleet, had 
 encountered a detachment sent by Paul Orsini to rein- 
 force the garrison at Sarzana, and had cut it to pieces. 
 Quarter had been resolutely refused; and all the fugi- 
 tives they could overtake were massacred. 
 
 This was the first time that the Italians, accustomed 
 to the chivalrous combats of the fifteenth century, had 
 met the fierce ultramontanes, who, less civilised than 
 themselves, considered war not as a game of skill, but 
 as the shock of mortal strife. The news, therefore, of 
 these two butcheries caused a great sensation at Florence : 
 every citizen depicted to himself the French army as 
 
62 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 similar to those hordes of ancient barbarians who extin- 
 guished fire with blood ; and the prophecies of Savonarola, 
 who had predicted this invasion, and the terrible conse- 
 quences which would ensue , being now recited, so great 
 an excitement prevailed that Pietro, resolved to obtain 
 peace at all hazards, procured a decree of the republic 
 that ambassadors should be sent to the conqueror, — 
 with the secret determination of joining them, and of 
 submitting himself entirely to the will of the king. He 
 consequently quitted Florence with four more deputies, 
 and on reaching Pietra Santa, he demanded of Charles 
 a safe conduct for himself. The following day Brigonnet 
 and De Piennes arrived there, and brought him before 
 Charles. 
 
 Notwithstanding his name and influence, in the eyes 
 of the French nobility, who considered it a dishonour 
 to be engaged in any lucrative pursuit, Pietro de' Medici 
 was but a wealthy merchant, with whom it was need- 
 less to be on much ceremony. Charles received him, 
 therefore, on horseback, and demanded in the haughty 
 tone of a master to his inferior, from whom and whence 
 he derived the arrogance that had encouraged him to 
 dare to dispute his advance into Tuscany. Pietro de' 
 Medici replied that, with the full consent of Louis 
 XI., his father, Lorenzo, had concluded a treaty of 
 alliance with Ferdinand of Naples, that he therefore 
 had been compelled to adhere to pre-existing engage- 
 ments; but, unwilling to carry this devotion to the 
 house of Aragon to excess, in opposition to that of 
 France, he was prepared to accept whatever terms the 
 king might dictate. Unprepared for so much humility 
 from his enemy, the king demanded the cession of 
 Sarzana, with which Pietro immediately complied. 
 The conqueror then, as if anxious to ascertain the limits 
 
THE BORGIAS. 63 
 
 of this deferential submission of the ambassador of the 
 high and mighty republic, replied that this concession 
 was far from sufficient ; that in addition he must possess 
 Pietra Santa, Pisa, Lihrafetta, and Leghorn. Pietro 
 consented with equal facility to this also, upon one 
 single guarantee, — the promise of Charles that these 
 cities should be restored to the republic when he had 
 completed the conquest of the kingdom of Naples. 
 Lastly, Charles, perceiving that the ambassador who 
 had been deputed to him was so ductile and submissive, 
 exacted as a final condition, but also as the sine qua non 
 of his royal protection, that the republic should lend 
 him a sum of two hundred thousand florins. 
 
 Pietro, who disposed of the treasure of the republic 
 with as much ease as of its fortresses, replied that his 
 fellow-citizens would be proud to be enabled thus to 
 assist their new ally. Charles thereupon desired him 
 to mount his horse, and directed him to go before and 
 commence the fulfilment of his engagements by the 
 cession of the fortresses he had named. Pietro obeyed ; 
 and the Prench army, conducted by the grandson of 
 Cosmo the Great and the son of Lorenzo the Magnifi- 
 cent, continued its triumphal march across the plains of 
 Tuscany. Arriving at Lucca, Pietro learnt that the 
 concessions he had made to the king had occasioned the 
 greatest excitement at Florence. The republic had 
 limited the probable demands of Charles to a free pas- 
 sage through its territory ; the discontent was therefore 
 general upon the news of the conduct of Pietro, and 
 this was increased upon the arrival of the ambassadors, 
 whom he had not even condescended to consult in the 
 negotiations. Por himself, thinking his return requi- 
 site, he demanded of Charles permission to precede his 
 arrival. As he had fulfilled all his engagements, except 
 
64 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the loan, and as the terms of this could be negotiated 
 only in Florence, the king consented, and the same 
 evening Pietro re-entered his palace in the Via Larga. 
 
 On the following morning he was anxious to meet the 
 senate, but, on arriving at the Piazza Del Vecchio 
 Palazzo, the gonfalonier, Jacopo de Nerli, advanced to 
 meet him, and pointed to Lucas Corsini standing at its 
 gates,, with his sword drawn, and having behind him 
 the city guards, prepared, if requisite, to prevent his 
 entrance. Pietro was astonished at this unexpected 
 opposition, but did not even attempt its repression. He 
 returned home, and wrote to Paolo Orsini, his brother- 
 in-law, to join him with his soldiers. Unfortunately 
 for him, this letter was intercepted, and the senate saw 
 in it an attempt at rebellion. They called upon the 
 citizens for aid; these, hastily armed, rushed in crowds, 
 and assembled before the square of the palace. 
 
 In the mean time the Cardinal Giovanni de' Medici 
 had mounted on horseback, and, believing that Orsini 
 was prepared to support him, he traversed the streets, 
 accompanied by his retainers, shouting his war-cry, 
 " Palle ! palle ! " But it was in vain ; the cry was not 
 re-echoed, and when the cardinal reached the street De 
 Calzaioli, it was received with such murmurs that he 
 saw at once that, instead of endeavouring to excite 
 Florence in his behalf, his most politic course would be 
 to quit the city before the excitement was at its height. 
 He retreated, therefore, immediately to his palace, 
 expecting to meet there his brothers Pietro and Julian ; 
 but they, protected by Orsini, had already left Florence 
 by the gate of San Gallo. The danger was extreme ; 
 Giovanni de' Medici sought to follow their example, 
 but wherever he appeared the clamours of the citizens 
 became each moment more menacing. At last, perceiv- 
 
THE BORGIAS. 65 
 
 ing that the danger increased at every step, he dis- 
 mounted, and took refuge in a house the door of which 
 was open. It communicated, fortunately, with a con- 
 vent of Franciscans, one of the brothers of which lent 
 his robe to the fugitive, and, protected by this humble 
 disguise, he escaped, and rejoined his brothers on the 
 Apennines. 
 
 On the same day the republic proclaimed the Medici 
 to be traitors and rebels, and sent another embassy to 
 the King of France. They found him at Pisa, where 
 he restored the freedom of the city, which for eighty- 
 seven years had been under the dominion of Florence. 
 Charles VIII. gave no reply to the messengers of the 
 republic, but merely signified his intention to advance 
 immediately to Florence. Such a reply, as may be 
 supposed, occasioned extreme alarm. Florence had no 
 forces ready for its defence, nor time to raise them; 
 nevertheless, every powerful family assembled its ser- 
 vants and vassals, and having armed them, awaited the 
 arrival of the French, resolved not to commence hostili- 
 ties, but determined to defend themselves to the utter- 
 most, if attacked. 
 
 It was agreed that if necessity exacted a general levy, 
 the tolling of the bells from the various churches should 
 be the signal. The palaces which remain of that period 
 are still in every respect so many fortresses, and the 
 incessant contests of the Guelphs and the Grhibellines 
 had familiarised the Tuscans with street warfare. On 
 the 17th of November the king arrived at the gate of 
 San Friano; he found there the nobility of Florence, 
 magnificently dressed, accompanied by the clergy, sing- 
 ing hymns, and surrounded by the populace, who, 
 pleased at the prospect of all change, hoped to obtain 
 also some concessions of their former freedom by the 
 
 VOL. I. — 5 
 
66 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 downfall of the Medici. Charles stopped for a few 
 minutes beneath a gilt canopy they had erected for 
 him; then replying in an evasive manner to some 
 expressions of welcome the senate had addressed to him, 
 he called for his lance, which he brought to its rest 
 upon his thigh, and gave orders to enter the city; and, 
 traversing this in its entire extent with his army, he 
 dismounted finally at the palace of the Medici, which 
 had been prepared for his reception. 
 
 The negotiations commenced on the following morn- 
 ing, but with little chance of agreement on either side. 
 The Florentines had received Charles as a guest; he, 
 on the contrary, had entered their city as a conqueror. 
 Thus, when the deputies of the senate spoke of ratifying 
 the treaty of Pietro de' Medici, the king replied that it 
 was annulled, since they had expelled the person by 
 whom it had been drawn up; that Florence was his 
 conquest, as he had shown by entering it, lance in 
 hand; that he reserved for himself its sovereignty, and 
 should decide according to his good pleasure upon the 
 point; that consequently he would communicate to them 
 whether he should delegate his authority to the senate, 
 or re-establish the Medici ; and that, as regarded other 
 points, he would acquaint them with his ultimatum 
 upon the morrow. 
 
 This answer excited the greatest consternation ; never- 
 theless it only the more confirmed the Florentines in 
 their resolutions of defence. Charles VIII. had been 
 also struck by the extraordinary population of the city, 
 for not only were the streets through which he rode 
 almost impassable for the crowd, but every house, from 
 its terraces to the smallest outlets of its cellars, seemed 
 to swarm with inhabitants. In fact, Florence, owing 
 to the increase of its population, numbered nearly one 
 hundred and fifty thousand souls. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 67 
 
 On the morrow the deputies obtained audience of the 
 king, and the discussions recommenced; but, as there 
 seemed to be no chance of agreement, the king's secre- 
 tary, standing at the foot of the throne, where Charles 
 was seated, produced a paper, and began reading, article 
 by article, the conditions granted by Charles to the 
 republic ; but one third of this was scarcely read before 
 the debates became still more violent; and Charles 
 having threatened that unless these terms were ratified 
 he would sound the trumpets and assemble his troops, 
 Pietro Capponi, the secretary of the republic, and who 
 was called the Scipio of Florence, snatched from the 
 hands of the king's secretary the shameful capitulation 
 he proposed, and tearing it in pieces, exclaimed, " Be 
 it so then, sire! Sound your trumpets; we will ring 
 our bells ! " Then, throwing the fragments of the 
 capitulation in the face of the astonished secretary, he 
 rushed from the chamber to give the fearful order that 
 was to change the fair city of Florence into a field of 
 battle. 
 
 Contrary to all expectation, this bold conduct saved 
 the city. The French thought that the utterance of so 
 bold a threat was not mere gasconade, but that the 
 Florentines possessed secret resources upon which they 
 could rely ; and as some of the more influential coun- 
 sellors of Charles advised him to abate his proposals, 
 Charles consented to oifer more reasonable terms, which 
 were accepted and proclaimed on the 26th of November, 
 in the cathedral of Santa Maria de' Fiori. The terms 
 were these : that the senate should pay to Charles VIII., 
 as a subsidy , the sum of one hundred and twenty thou- 
 sand florins, in three sums ; should rescind the sequestra- 
 tion placed upon the property of the Medici , and revoke 
 the decree which placed a price upon their heads; 
 
68 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 should publish an amnesty for all political offences as 
 regarded Pisa, on account of which the Pisans should 
 renew their allegiance to Florence ; and, lastly , should 
 admit the claims of the Duke of Milan upon Sarzana 
 and Pietra Santa, but that these should be referred to 
 future arbitration. In consideration of which, the king 
 engaged to restore the other fortresses of which he was 
 in possession, either upon the capture of Naples or upon 
 the conclusion of the war, by peace, or truce for two 
 years, or upon his quitting Italy for any reason he 
 might assign. 
 
 Two days after the announcement of this treaty, 
 Charles, to the great joy of the senate, quitted Florence, 
 and advanced toward Rome by way of Poggibondi and 
 Sienna. The Pope now shared in the general conster- 
 nation ; he was aware of the massacres of Fivizzano, of 
 Lunigiano, and of Imola, that Pietro de' Medici had 
 surrendered the fortresses of Tuscany, that Florence had 
 capitulated, and Catherine Sforza had negotiated with 
 the conqueror; he daily saw the dispirited Neapolitan 
 soldiers passing through Rome to fall back upon the 
 Abruzzi, so that whilst thus unprotected, the French 
 army advanced toward him, master of the entire extent 
 of the Eomagna, and stretching in one line from 
 Piombino to Ancona. 
 
 It was about this time that Alexander received the 
 reply of Bajazet, delayed in consequence of the ambas- 
 sadors having been detained by Giovanni della Eovere, 
 brother of the Cardinal Giuliano, upon their landing at 
 Sinigaglia. They were bearers of a verbal answer to 
 his Holiness : that the emperor being then at war with 
 the King of Hungary, the Sultan of Egypt, and the 
 Greeks of Macedon and Epirus, could not, in spite of 
 his sincere desire, then aid him with his army. They 
 
THE BORGIAS. 69 
 
 were accompanied also by a favorite of the sultan, the 
 bearer of a private letter, in which upon certain condi- 
 tions Bajazet offered to aid Alexander VI. by a subsidy. 
 The despatch was to the following effect: After the 
 recital of the titles of Bajazet, and the customary 
 felicitations to the Pope : — 
 
 " Your envoy Bucciarda having stated to us that the King 
 of France, who is now at war with your Holiness, has ex- 
 pressed a wish that our brother Djem, now in your charge, 
 should be transferred to his protection, we think it due to you 
 to state that, not only is this in direct opposition to our will, 
 but that it would be followed by events equally prejudicial to 
 your Holiness and to Christianity. Eeiieoting therefore upon 
 this circumstance in conjunction with your envoy, we are of 
 opinion that it would be well for the repose, the interests, and 
 the honour even of the Holy See, and at the same time for our 
 personal satisfaction, that our brother Djem, who as a man is 
 subject to death, should be put to death with the least un- 
 necessary delay ; seeing that, situated as he is, this would be 
 happiness to him, most serviceable to your Hohness, favour- 
 able to the preservation of peace, and highly satisfactory to 
 me, your friend. And if, as we trust, this proposal should be 
 welcomed by your Holiness, it would be better in such case 
 that it should be hastened rather than delayed ; and that, by 
 the surest means it may please your Holiness to employ, our 
 brother Djem should be freed from the pains of this world, 
 and enter into the tranquil joys of another in which he will find 
 repose. And should your Holiness adopt this plan, and de- 
 liver to us the body of our brother, we, the Sultan Bajazet, 
 engage on our part to remit to whatever place, and to whom- 
 soever you may appoint, the sum of three hundred thousand 
 ducats, which we further engage to place in the hands of a 
 third party, to the intent that your Holiness may be assured 
 of their receipt on the day appointed consequent upon the 
 delivery of the body of our brother. Moreover, I promise, 
 for the more complete satisfaction of your Hohness, that so 
 
70 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 long as you shall occupy the throne of the pontiff, neither by 
 me, my compatriots, or retainers, shall any injury be offered 
 or done unto the Christians, whatever their condition, upon 
 land or sea ; and to the end that no doubt may arise as to the 
 full and entire accomplishment of the stipulations here made, 
 I have sworn, and attested in the presence of your envoy Buc- 
 ciarda, upon the gospels of the true God whom we adore, that 
 item by item they shall be observed, from the first even unto 
 the last; and now, at this present, for your more complete 
 security, that no doubt may linger upon your mind, I, the 
 undersigned Sultan Bajazet, swear by the one true God, who 
 created the heaven and the earth, and all that therein is, to 
 observe religiously the engagement here made, and neither to 
 conceive nor undertake aught in future against the welfare or 
 interest of your Holiness. 
 
 "Written at Constantinople, in our palace, the 12th of 
 September, 1494." 
 
 His Holiness read this missive with the greatest satis- 
 faction. The aid of four or five thousand Turks had 
 become ineffectual in the existing state of affairs, and 
 would only tend the more to compromise the spiritual 
 head of the Christian world; but three hundred thousand 
 ducats was a sum highly advantageous to receive under 
 any circumstances whatever. It is true that during the 
 life of Djem Alexander enjoyed an annuity of sixty 
 thousand, representing a capital of about six hundred 
 thousand ; but the want of ready money made him will- 
 ing to submit to a sacrifice. 
 
 Nevertheless, Alexander postponed the acceptance of 
 the terms, and resolved to be guided by the course of 
 events. The most urgent point for his decision was the 
 policy he should pursue with regard to the King of 
 France. His success was unexpected; and Alexander, 
 as we have seen, had based the future greatness of his 
 family upon his alliance with the house of Aragon. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 71 
 
 But the throne of Aragon was tottering, and a volcano 
 more terrible than Vesuvius threatened to destroy Naples. 
 It was necessary, therefore, to abandon his former plans, 
 and to combine his interests with those of the King of 
 Prance, — a matter not easily accomplished, for Charles 
 still highly resented the investiture he had granted the 
 house of Aragon. He therefore sent the Cardinal Francis 
 Piccolomini to the king. 
 
 This selection of the envoy seemed at the first glance 
 impolitic, inasmuch as the cardinal was the nephew of 
 Pope Pius II. , who had strenuously opposed the house 
 of Anjou; but Alexander was influenced by motives 
 which those around him could not fathom. He foresaw 
 that Charles would not readily grant an audience to the 
 cardinal, and that in the conferences which must there- 
 upon ensue, he must of necessity be brought much in 
 contact with those who chiefly influenced the king. 
 Now, apart from his ostensible mission to Charles, 
 Piccolomini had secret instructions for his principal 
 ministers. These were BriQonnet and Philippe de 
 Luxembourg, to whom the envoy was empowered to 
 promise the cardinal's hat. It occurred as Alexander 
 had foreseen; the envoy, refused an audience, was 
 obliged to confer with the councillors. This was pre- 
 cisely what the Pope desired. Piccolomini returned to 
 Rome with the refusal of the king, but with the promise 
 of BriQonnet and Philippe de Luxembourg, to exert all 
 their influence in the Pope's behalf, and to induce the 
 king to receive another envoy. 
 
 In the mean time, the French continued to advance, 
 never remaining more than forty-eight hours in any 
 city; so that it became hourly more urgent to enter 
 into arrangements with Charles. The king had entered 
 Sienna and Viterbo without resistance. Yves d'Alegre 
 
72 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 and Louis de Ligney had obtained possession of Ostia 
 from the Colonnas; Civita Vecchia and Corneto had 
 opened their gates; the Orsini had submitted; and 
 Giovanni Sforza had retired also from the Aragonese 
 alliance. Alexander considered it was now time to 
 abandon his ally, and sent therefore the bishops of 
 Concordia, of Terni, and his confessor, to the king. 
 They were empowered to renew the promise made to 
 Brigonnet, and to Louis de Luxembourg, and had full 
 powers to negotiate in their master's name, whether 
 Charles wished to include Alfonso in the treaty, or was 
 bent on signing no engagement but with the Pope. 
 They found Charles fluctuating between the insinua- 
 tions of Giuliano della Rovere, who, as witness of the 
 simony of the Pope, urged the assembly of a council to 
 effect his deposition, and the secret support and protec- 
 tion of the bishops of Mans and of St. Malo ; so that 
 the king, decided upon making himself acquainted with 
 the facts without prejudging the case, continued his 
 route, and dismissed the ambassadors, in company with 
 the Marechal de Gie, the Senechal de Beaucaire, and 
 Jean de Gannay, first president of the parliament of 
 Paris, who were charged to acquaint the pontiff that the 
 king was above all things anxious to enter Rome with- 
 out resistance; that on condition of this voluntary, 
 frank, and loyal admission, he would respect the author- 
 ity of his Holiness, and the privileges of the Church; 
 that the king desired that Djem should be delivered up 
 to him, in order that he might be made available 
 against the sultan when he should carry the war into 
 either Macedonia, Turkey, or the Holy Land; that, 
 as for the other conditions, they were unimportant and 
 might be arranged at the first conference. The ambas- 
 sadors added that the French army was only two days' 
 
THE BORGIAS. 73 
 
 march from Eome, at the expiration of which time the 
 king would probahly himself arrive to receive the 
 answer of the Pope. 
 
 Negotiations were of no avail with a prince of such 
 resolute activity. Alexander therefore intimated to 
 Ferdinand that, for his own safety, it was desirable that 
 he should instantly quit Kome. To this, however, he 
 would not listen, and declared that he would leave it 
 by one gate only when Charles should enter by another. 
 But his departure was not long delayed. Two days 
 afterwards, about eleven in the morning, a sentinel 
 placed on the watch upon the castle of St. Angelo 
 exclaimed that he saw the vanguard of the French army 
 slowly emerging from the horizon. Alexander and the 
 Duke of Calabria immediately ascended the terrace 
 which commands the fortress, and ascertained the truth 
 of the alarm. Then only did the Duke of Calabria 
 depart, leaving Rome by the gate of San Sebastiano at 
 the instant when the vanguard of the French halted 
 within five hundred paces from the gate Del Popolo. 
 It was the 31st of December, 1494. 
 
 At three in the afternoon, being joined by the main 
 body, the advanced guard of the army resumed its 
 march, with drums beating and colours flying, consist- 
 ing, according to Paulus Jovius (lib. ii., p. 41 of his 
 history), of the Swiss and Germans, clothed in short 
 tight surcoats of various colours, armed with the old 
 Eoman double-edged sword, and carrying ashen lances 
 ten feet in length, the heads of which were narrow and 
 sharp-pointed. A fourth part only of these bore, 
 instead of lances, halberds in the form of a hatchet, 
 fitted either to cut or thrust. The first ranks of each 
 battalion wore helmets and cuirasses, which defended 
 the head and chest, so that when in battle the soldiers 
 
74 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 presented to the enemy a triple row of lances, which 
 rose and fell as the quills of a porcupine. To every 
 thousand soldiers a company of one hundred fusileers 
 was attached , and the commanders wore lofty plumes in 
 their helmets, to distinguish them from the privates. 
 Following these came the crossbowmen of Gascony, 
 whose plain uniform was strongly contrasted with that 
 of the Swiss, to whom also they seemed comparatively 
 diminutive; these were five thousand strong, excellent 
 soldiers, active and courageous, and highly valued for 
 their rapidity and skill in the use of the crossbow. 
 
 The cavalry next advanced, the elite of the French 
 nobility, with their glittering helmets and collars, and 
 surcoats of velvet and of silk; their swords each bear- 
 ing a name; their shields each representing a noble 
 house ; and their colours each emblematic of some chiv- 
 alrous lady-love. Besides his defensive weapons, every 
 cavalier carried a mace at his saddlebow, either plated 
 on all sides or covered with spikes. Their horses were 
 large and powerful, and, according to the prevalent 
 custom, had their ears and tails docked; but, unlike 
 those of the Italians, they had not leathern defensive 
 armour, and were therefore more exposed in the charge. 
 Every cavalier was attended by a page and two esquires, 
 who fought always on the right hand and left hand of 
 their liege lord. Thus they formed not only the most 
 splendid, but the most numerous body of soldiers in the 
 army, amounting, with their attendants, to ten thousand 
 men. Five thousand light-horse succeeded, armed with 
 bows, and, like the English archers, discharging their 
 long arrows at a distance. They were the most useful 
 auxiliaries in battle ; for they could be brought rapidly 
 to any quarter of the field, from one wing to another, 
 to the van or rear, pour in their flight of arrows, and, 
 
THE BORGIAS. 75 
 
 their quivers being exhausted, retire at full gallop, 
 exposed to no danger of pursuit from the infantry or 
 heavy horse. The defensive armour was the helmet 
 and hauberk; some in addition carried a javelin, to 
 transfix an opponent if unhorsed ; all wore long cloaks, 
 ornamented with aiguillettes and the armorial bearings 
 of their leaders, emblazoned on plates of silver. 
 
 The king's body-guard closed the long array: it con- 
 sisted of four hundred archers, of whom one hundred 
 were Scotch ; whilst two hundred of the most illustrious 
 knights, bearing heavy maces upon their shoulders, 
 marched on foot by his side. Charles, in rich armour, 
 and his horse splendidly accoutred, advanced amid this 
 cohort, accompanied on his right and left by the cardi- 
 nals Ascanio Sforza, brother of the Duke of Milan, and 
 Giuliano della Rovere, who was subsequently Pope 
 Julius II. The cardinals Colonna and Savelli were 
 next seen, and behind them Prospero and Fabrizio 
 Colonna, and the several petty princes and Italian 
 generals who had sided with the king. 
 
 The crowd which had assembled to witness the march 
 of these troops, fearful alike to them from their numbers 
 and strange armour, had remarked also, and with great 
 anxiety, a heavy sound, every moment increasing, and 
 advancing like a rolling peal of thunder ; soon the earth 
 seemed to tremble, the windows shook in their case- 
 ments, and, as the escort of the king defiled, thirty-six 
 brass cannons, each drawn by six horses, were seen 
 closing the rear. These were eight feet in length, their 
 bores large enough to admit a man's head, and the 
 weight of each was estimated at about six thousand 
 pounds. The culverins and falconets, the former six- 
 teen feet in length, the latter adapted for balls of the 
 size of a grenade, followed, forming an artillery entirely 
 
76 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 unknown to the Italians, and the effect of which was 
 increased at once by their astonishment and fears. 
 
 Six hours had elapsed from the time of the entrance 
 of the advanced guard into Rome, and night closed in 
 ere the artillery had passed; and as one of the six 
 artillerymen attached to each gun bore a torch, the 
 lurid, uncertain light gave to the objects on which it 
 fell an appearance far more gloomy and threatening than 
 they would have presented by day. The young king 
 alighted at the Venetian palace; the artillery was 
 arranged and pointed upon the square and streets 
 adjacent, and the rest of the army was quartered in the 
 different districts of the city. The same evening, far 
 more as a token of respect than to ease his mind of any 
 fears as to his personal safety, the keys of Rome and 
 those of the gates of the garden of the Belvedere were 
 presented to the king. And the same ceremony, it may 
 be observed, had taken place with the Duke of Calabria. 
 The Pope, as before stated, had retired to the castle of 
 San Angelo with a retinue only of six cardinals; so 
 that on the following morning the young king found 
 himself surrounded by a court very different, both in 
 numbers and appearance, from that of the spiritual head 
 of the Church. 
 
 The question as to the propriety of summoning a 
 council, which, convicting Alexander of simony, should 
 next proceed to his deposition, was again taken into 
 consideration. But the councillors of the king, bribed, 
 as we have seen, by the promises of the Pope, observed 
 that the period was exceedingly inopportune for this 
 discussion, as it would tend to excite a new schism in 
 the church at the very moment when they were prepar- 
 ing to march against the infidels. As this coincided 
 with the king's opinion, there was not much difficulty 
 
THE BORGIAS. 11 
 
 in convincing him of its propriety, and it was finally 
 agreed to enter into negotiations with his Holiness. 
 Scarcely, however, were these commenced when they 
 were suspended; for the first stipulation on the part of 
 Charles was the surrender of the castle of San Angelo. 
 On the other hand, the Pope, considering retention of 
 this castle to he his sole security, was determined to 
 reject the stipulation. 
 
 Thrice in his impetuosity the king was resolved to 
 obtain by force what was refused to his demand, and 
 levelled the artillery at the gates of the castle of San 
 Angelo ; but the Pope was unmoved by any such demon- 
 stration, and, obstinate as he was, this time the King of 
 Prance gave way. That article was, therefore, aban- 
 doned, and they agreed upon the following terms: that 
 between his Majesty the King of Prance and his Holi- 
 ness the Pope, a sincere friendship and firm alliance 
 should thenceforth exist; that, until the definitive con- 
 quest of the kingdom of Naples, the King of Prance 
 should occupy the fortresses of Civita Vecchia, of 
 Terracina, and of Spoleto; lastly, that the Cardinal 
 Valentino (this was Cesare Borgia, designated from his 
 archbishopric of Valencia) should accompany the king, 
 Charles VIII. , as the apostolic legate, or rather as an 
 hostage, for the fulfilment of the above conditions. 
 
 These terms concluded, they next regulated the cere- 
 monial of the interview. The king left the Venetian 
 palace, and went to reside at the Vatican. At an ap- 
 pointed hour he entered by one door the garden belong- 
 ing to the palace ; whilst the Pope, who had not quitted 
 the castle of San Angelo, descended into it by another. 
 The result of this arrangement was that the king instantly 
 perceived the Pope, and bent his knee for the first time; 
 but the Pope feigned not to see him, whereupon the king 
 
78 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 advanced a few steps and repeated the ceremony ; but as 
 his Holiness was then half concealed by a clump of 
 trees, here was an additional excuse; the king, strictly 
 observing the ceremony, again arose, and was about to 
 kneel for the third time , when his Holiness, fortunately 
 seeing him, hastened forward as if to prevent it, removed 
 his cap, embraced him, and, raising him, kissed his 
 forehead, and would not consent to be himself covered 
 until the king put on his cap, which Alexander assisted 
 him to do. After a short interval and the interchange 
 of some expressions of courtesy and friendship, the king 
 requested that his Holiness would be pleased to collate 
 to the Sacred College, Guillaume Brigonnet, Bishop of 
 St. Malo. Although a previous understanding had 
 existed between that prelate and Alexander, yet as the 
 king was ignorant of this, the Pope still wished to 
 have the merit of readily conceding this request, and 
 ordered, therefore, one of his attendants to obtain imme- 
 diately from his nephew, the Cardinal Valentino, a 
 mantle and cap. Then, taking the king's hand, the 
 Pope led him into the adjoining hall, where the cere- 
 mony of admitting the new cardinal took place. The 
 form of taking the oath of obedience was deferred until 
 the morrow. 
 
 On that day all the wealth and grandeur of Rome, as 
 reflected in her nobility, clergy, and military rank, was 
 assembled around his Holiness, whilst Charles VIII. 
 proceeded at the same time to the Vatican with a 
 splendid suite of prelates, princes, and noble com- 
 manders. At the palace he was met by four cardinals ; 
 two placed themselves on each side, the otliers imme- 
 diately behind him. With this retinue he traversed a 
 long succession of apartments lined with guards and 
 attendants, until finally he entered the presence-chamber 
 
THE BORGIAS. 79 
 
 where the Pope was seated upon his throne , behind which 
 stood Cesare Borgia. Upon reaching the door the king 
 complied with the customary ceremonials of kneeling, 
 kissing the feet, the hand, and forehead of the pontiff; 
 then rising, he stood, whilst the president of the parlia- 
 ment of Paris, advancing a few steps, thus addressed his 
 Holiness : — 
 
 " You behold here, most holy father, my king, who 
 is wholly inclined to take that oath of obedience to you 
 which is due, but it is customary in Prance that he who 
 tenders his vassalage to his lord obtains also the conces- 
 sion of such acts of favour as he may demand. His 
 Majesty, therefore, though well resolved to exercise 
 toward your Holiness a kingly munificence far exceed- 
 ing its return, yet now asks the immediate concession of 
 three acts of grace. These are : first, the confirmation of 
 all privileges already granted to the king, the queen his 
 wife, and to the dauphin his son; secondly, the investi- 
 ture for himself and his successors of the kingdom of 
 Naples; and thirdly, the delivery to him of Sultan 
 Djem, the brother of the emperor of the Turks." 
 
 The Pope was for a moment stupefied at these de- 
 mands, which Charles had thus publicly made, to deprive 
 him of all opportunity for their refusal. But, quickly 
 recovering his presence of mind, he replied that he 
 would willingly confirm all privileges granted to the 
 house of France by his predecessors; that as for the 
 investiture of the kingdom of Naples, it was a matter 
 for deliberation in the council of the cardinals, but that 
 he would do everything in his power to influence the 
 decision in his favour; and that, as regarded the brother 
 of the sultan, he would refer the consideration of the 
 subject at some more fitting period to the Sacred Col- 
 lege ; but, as this demand could not but be of advantage 
 
80 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 to the general interests of Cliristianity, as it was pre- 
 ferred solely in the desire of bringing a crusade to a suc- 
 cessful issue, he assured the king that it would be his 
 earnest wish to obtain, on this point also, the concession 
 he required. Upon this Charles inclined himself, to 
 indicate his satisfaction; and, still standing uncovered 
 before the Pope , the president renewed his discourse : 
 
 " It is an ancient custom, most holy father, of Chris- 
 tian kings, more particularly the most Christian kings 
 of France, to express through their ambassadors the 
 respect they entertain for the Holy See, and for the 
 sovereign pontiffs whom Divine Providence raises to 
 that eminence. But the most Christian king, desirous 
 of visiting the tombs of the Holy Apostles, has sought, 
 not by his ambassador, nor by any delegate, but in 
 person , to acquit himself of this religious duty , — a 
 duty which possesses a sacred character in his opinion. 
 And therefore is it, most holy father, that his Majesty 
 recognises in you the true vicar of Christ, the legitimate 
 successor of the Holy Apostles St. Peter and St. Paul , 
 and promises and vows to you that filial, reverential 
 faith and obedience which the kings his forefathers have 
 been wont to vow, devoting himself and the power of 
 his kingdom to the service of your Holiness, and the 
 interests of the Holy See." 
 
 The Pope arose with every feeling of satisfaction; 
 for this oath so publicly taken, disburdened his mind of 
 all fears of a council, and inclined him from that 
 moment toward a full concession of all the king could 
 claim. He took, therefore, his left hand, making a 
 short and friendly reply, and addressing him as the 
 eldest son of the Church. The ceremony over, they 
 quitted the presence-chamber, the Pope still retaining 
 the king's hand, and thus they walked until they arrived 
 
THE BORGIAS. 81 
 
 at the room where the sacred robes are kept; upon 
 reaching which, the Pope feigned a desire to reconduct 
 the king to his apartments, but Charles not permitting 
 this, they again saluted each other and retired. 
 
 The king's departure was delayed for eight days, 
 during which his demands were discussed and decided 
 to his satisfaction. The Bishop of Mans was made 
 cardinal ; the investiture of the kingdom of Naples was 
 promised to the conqueror; and, finally, it was agreed 
 that the Pope should deliver Djem to the care of the 
 King of France, in consideration of a sum of 120,000 
 livres only. Wishing, however, to extend to the utter- 
 most his hospitality, the Pope invited Djem to dine 
 with him on the day of his departure from Eome, under 
 the charge of his new protector. On the day of his 
 departure, Charles, surrounded by a brilliant and num- 
 erous escort, repaired to the Vatican; on reaching the 
 entrance he dismounted, and leaving his attendants in 
 the Piazza di San Pietro, he entered it with only a few 
 noblemen of his suite. The Pope received him with 
 the accustomed honours ; on his right hand was the 
 Cardinal Valentino, on his left Djem, and about him 
 were thirteen cardinals. 
 
 The king, having first bent the knee, craved the 
 benediction of his Holiness, and inclined himself as if 
 to kiss his feet; but Alexander, preventing this action, 
 embraced him, and with the lips of a father and the 
 heart of an enemy, kissed him tenderly on the forehead. 
 He next introduced to the king the son of Mahomet II. , 
 a noble-looking youth, the richness of whose oriental 
 robes contrasted strongly with the close and simpler 
 costume of the Christians. Djem met the king without 
 humility, yet without pride ; and as the son of an 
 emperor who discourses with a king, he kissed his hand 
 
82 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 and liis shoulder; then, turning toward his Holiness, he 
 besought his recommendation to the monarch who had 
 taken him under his protection, assuring the pontiff he 
 should never regret having given him his liberty, and 
 expressing to the king his hope to have reason to be 
 thankful to him if, after the capture of Naples, he 
 carried the war into Greece, as he proposed. These 
 words were uttered with so much dignity and gentleness 
 that the king extended his hand to the sultan with 
 frank cordiality, as to a companion in arms. 
 
 After this, Charles for the last time took leave of the 
 Pope, and rejoined his escort. He then awaited the 
 arrival of the Cardinal Valentino, who was to accom- 
 pany him as a hostage, but who yet lingered in conver- 
 sation with his father. Cesare soon arrived, mounted 
 upon a mule in splendid trappings, having behind six 
 beautiful led horses, — a present from the Pope to the 
 king. Charles mounted immediately upon one of these 
 to testify his appreciation of the gift, and, quitting 
 Eome with the remainder of his army, arrived the same 
 evening at Marino. 
 
 He was there informed that Alfonso, false to his 
 reputation, both as a skilful politician and a great 
 general, had embarked with all his treasures in a flotilla 
 of four galleys, leaving the conduct of the war and 
 the government of his kingdom to his son Ferdinand. 
 Thus every circumstance favoured the triumphant pro- 
 gress of Charles; the cities surrendered as he advanced, 
 his enemies fled without resistance, and, without a 
 single battle, he had already won the title of conqueror. 
 The next morning at sunrise the army continued its 
 marcli, and arrived in the evening at Velletri. The 
 king, who had been on horseback the whole day, accom- 
 panied by the cardinal and Djem, quitted the former at 
 
THE BORGIAS. 83 
 
 his quarters, and proceeded with the latter to his palace. 
 Cesare in the mean time had directed his attendants to 
 remove from one of the twenty heavily laden waggons 
 which accompanied the baggage of the army the mag- 
 nificent service of plate he was accustomed to use, and 
 to prepare supper. In the mean time, night having 
 closed in, he retired to a private chamber, and there, 
 divesting himself of his cardinal's dress, he put ou that 
 of a groom. By favour of this disguise he left his 
 quarters unrecognised, traversed rapidly the streets, and 
 regained the open country. At a short distance from 
 the city a servant awaited him with two fleet horses, 
 and, retaking immediately the road toward Kome, he 
 arrived there with his companion at break of day. He 
 dismounted at the house of Signor Flores, the auditor 
 of the Kota, and having procured a fresh horse, and laid 
 aside his disguise, he went immediately to his mother, 
 who uttered a cry of joy as she met him; for, reserved 
 and taciturn to every one, even to her, the cardinal had 
 concealed the design of his speedy return to Rome. 
 
 The cry of joy which Vanozza uttered was far less of 
 love than of revenge. One evening, during the festivi- 
 ties of the Vatican, whilst Charles and Alexander were 
 indulging in those lip professions of friendship which 
 were far from the heart of either, a messenger arrived 
 from Vanozza, requiring the immediate presence of 
 Cesare at her house in the street Delia Sengara. Cesare 
 questioned the messenger, but in vain; he was told that 
 what he desired to know, his mother would relate. He 
 therefore immediately proceeded to her, dressed in a 
 layman's habit, and wrapped in a large mantle. On 
 approaching the house he was struck by the signs of 
 recent tumult it presented. The street was strewn with 
 broken fragments of furniture and remnants of rich 
 
84 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 draperies. Around the entrance he remarked that the 
 windows were broken, before which the half-destroyed 
 curtains still fluttered in the wind; everything bore the 
 marks of plunder and of riot; so that, unable to com- 
 prehend its cause, he rushed into the house, passing 
 through various apartments, all deserted and ransacked. 
 At last, guided by a light in one chamber, he entered, 
 and found his mother seated on the remains of an ebony 
 chest, which had been richly inlaid with ivory and 
 silver. As Cesare entered, she rose, her face pale, her 
 hair disordered, and, pointing with her hand to the con- 
 fusion around, she exclaimed: — 
 
 "Behold, Cesare! Behold the work of your new 
 friends! " 
 
 " What means this ? " demanded the cardinal. 
 " Whence arises this disorder ? " 
 
 "It means," replied Vanozza, and her face was livid 
 with rage, — " it means that the serpent that you have 
 warmed has stung me, fearing doubtless to break its 
 fangs on you." 
 
 " Who has done this ? " exclaimed Cesare. " Name 
 him, and I swear to you, by Heaven! this injury shall 
 be tenfold repaid ! " 
 
 "Who has done this?" she answered; "the king, 
 Charles VIII. of France, by the agency of his most 
 faithful allies, the Swiss. It was known Melchiori was 
 absent, and consequently that I was protected only by 
 a few miserable servants ; therefore came they , bursting 
 the doors as if they had stormed Rome ; and whilst the 
 Cardinal Valentino was feasting their master, they pil- 
 laged his mother's house, overwhelming her with out- 
 rages and insults, unexpected even from the worst 
 barbarians of the Turks and Saracens." 
 
 " It is well I it is well ! " he replied. " Be composed. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 85 
 
 Blood will wash out the stains of shame. As to our 
 loss, remember it is nothing in comparison to what we 
 risked ; and my father and I will restore far more than 
 you have lost." 
 
 " I ask not promises, it is revenge that I require ," 
 she replied. 
 
 " Mother," said the cardinal, "you shall be avenged, 
 or I will forfeit the name of son. " 
 
 Having reassured her by these words, he conducted 
 her to the palace of Lucrezia, and returned to the 
 Vatican, whence he gave orders for the immediate resto- 
 ration of his mother's house to more than its former 
 splendour. It was amid this luxury, with an unabated 
 feeling of hatred in her heart, that Cesare met his 
 mother. They exchanged but a few words, and Cesare 
 then returned to the Vatican, which he had left but two 
 days before as a hostage. Alexander, informed of his 
 intended flight, had not only approved it, but moreover, 
 as sovereign pontiff, had absolved his son from'^the guilt 
 of his perjury; he received him, therefore, with joy, 
 but advised concealment, as Charles in all probability 
 would not delay to claim him at his hands. In fact, on 
 the morning following, his flight was soon discovered ; 
 and Charles, uneasy on account of his non-appearance, 
 sent to inquire as to its cause. He was informed that 
 Cesare had left his quarters at nine o'clock the night 
 previous, and had not since returned. Charles imme- 
 diately suspected he had fled, and in the first excitement 
 of his anger proclaimed this act of perjury to the army. 
 
 The soldiers, recollecting the twenty waggons so 
 heavily laden, from one of which the cardinal had 
 publicly taken the magnificent service of gold and 
 silver, immediately broke them to pieces, not doubting 
 they contained articles of equal value; they were mis- 
 
86 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 taken, they found there only sand and stones, which 
 proved that his flight had been prearranged, and 
 redoubled the king's anger against the Pope. He 
 despatched upon this Philippe de Bresse, afterwards 
 Duke of Savoy, to Rome, and commanded him to 
 express to the Pope his extreme dissatisfaction at the 
 conduct of his son. But the Pope replied that he was 
 in every respect ignorant of his flight, for which he 
 expressed the sincerest regret, averring that he knew 
 not where he was, but at all events, that he was not in 
 Eome. The Pope spoke truth, inasmuch as Cesare had 
 retired with the Count Orsino to one of his estates, 
 where for the present he was concealed. This answer 
 was conveyed to Charles by two envoys, the bishops of 
 Nepi and of Sutri, and the people also sent, as on their 
 part, Monsignor Porcari, charged to express to the king 
 their extreme displeasure at this breach of faith. Little 
 disposed as he was to be satisfied by empty expressions, 
 Charles felt that it was requisite to direct his attention 
 to matters of more importance; he therefore continued 
 without delay his march upon Naples, which he entered 
 the 22nd of February, 1493. 
 
 Four days afterward the unhappy Djem, who had 
 sickened at Capua, died at Castel Nuovo. In parting 
 from him, and at the farewell banquet, Alexander had 
 tried upon him the strength of that poison which he 
 proposed hereafter so frequently to employ upon the 
 cardinals, and by the effects of which, as a just retribu- 
 tion, he was himself to perish. Thus, by the success 
 of his double speculation upon the unfortunate youth, 
 he had sold his life for one hundred and twenty thou- 
 sand livres to Charles VIII., and his death for three 
 hundred thousand ducats to Bajazet. But the payment 
 of the last sum was delayed, for it will be remembered 
 
THE BORGIAS. 87 
 
 that the emperor of the Turks had covenanted to pay 
 the fratricidal gold only upon condition that he received 
 the body of his brother, and this by order of Charles 
 had been buried at Gaeta. When Cesare received this 
 intelligence, he rightly concluded that the king, occu- 
 pied by the ceremony of his installation in his new 
 capital , had too much to occupy his attention to permit 
 him to be any longer a matter of interest; he returned, 
 therefore, to Rome, stimulated by the desire of fulfil- 
 ling his promise to his mother, which he soon evinced 
 by an act of revenge. 
 
 The cardinal had in his pay a Spaniard whom he had 
 made the chief of his bravoes; he was a man between 
 thirty-five and forty years of age, whose whole life had 
 been one long outrage against all social laws ; he recoiled 
 from no action, provided he was rewarded in proportion 
 to its importance. Don Michel Corregha, who earned 
 for himself a murderer's celebrity under the name of 
 Michelotto, was truly a being fitted for the purposes of 
 Cesare ; and thus, whilst Michelotto was entirely devoted 
 to him, Cesare placed an unlimited confidence in his 
 retainer. Don Michel was commanded to overrun the 
 campagna of Kome, and to massacre all the French he 
 should meet with. He applied himself so diligently to 
 the task that within the lapse of a few days the most 
 satisfactory results were obtained; more than one hun- 
 dred persons were pillaged and put to death, and among 
 the latter was the son of the cardinal of St. Malo, who 
 was returning to Paris, and upon whom Michelotto 
 found a sum of three thousand crowns. Por himself 
 Cesare had reserved the Swiss; for the Swiss it was 
 who had destroyed the house of his mother. The Pope 
 at this period had about one hundred and fifty of these 
 in his service, who had settled with their families in 
 
88 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Rome, enriched by their pay and other occupations. 
 These the cardinal disbanded, with an order to quit 
 Rome in twenty -four hours, and the Roman States 
 within three days. These unfortunate beings were all 
 assembled, in obedience to an order issued, together 
 with their wives, children, and movables, in the Piazza 
 di San Pietro, when suddenly the cardinal caused them 
 to be surrounded on all sides by two thousand Spaniards, 
 who commenced a rapid fire upon them, charging at 
 intervals upon the mass with their swords, whilst 
 Cesare and his mother enjoyed the spectacle of the 
 carnage from a window. About fifty or sixty were in 
 this manner butchered j but the remainder, joining in 
 a body, made a bold resistance, and, not allowing them- 
 selves to be separated, fought and retreated until they 
 reached a house, which they so valiantly defended that 
 the Pope had time to send thither the captain of his 
 guard, who, by the aid of a strong detachment, was 
 enabled to conduct them in safety, to the number of 
 forty, beyond the walls of the city; the rest had fallen 
 in the streets or in the house. 
 
 But this was not the revenge that Cesare sought; it 
 did not reach Charles VIII. , the sole author of all the 
 distress and vexation that the Pope and his family had 
 experier.eed. He soon abandoned, therefore, as beneath 
 him, these common plots, for designs of greater import, 
 and applied himself with all the energy of his mind to 
 renew the league of the Italian princes, broken by the 
 defection of Sforza, the exile of Pietro, and the over- 
 throw of the King of Naples. This was accomplished 
 with greater facility than the Pope expected. The 
 Venetians had witnessed, and not without inquietude, 
 the march of Charles across their immediate territory, 
 and they feared that, once master of Naples, his ambi- 
 
THE BORGIAS. 89 
 
 tion might prompt the conquest of all Italy. On his 
 part, Ludovico Sforza, observing the rapidity with 
 which the king had dethroned the house of Aragon, 
 was already haunted by the fear that he would soon for- 
 get the distinction between his enemies and his friends. 
 Maximilian sought hut an opportunity to break the 
 truce he had agreed to, solely on account of the impor- 
 tance of its concessions. Ferdinand and Isabella were 
 connected with the dethroned prince. Thus all, how- 
 ever widely separated by motives of self-interest, were 
 yet united by one common fear, and all were agreed 
 upon the necessity of driving Charles from Naples and 
 from Italy; and they engaged by every means in their 
 power — negotiation, surprise, or force — to contribute 
 to this result. The Florentines alone declined to take 
 part in this raising of bucklers, and remained faithful 
 to their engagements. 
 
90 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 According to the articles agreed to by tlie confeder- 
 ates, the alliance was to exist for twenty-five years, and 
 its ostensible object was to defend the majesty of the 
 Roman pontiff and the interests of Christianity ; so that 
 it would have had all the appearance of a league against 
 the Turks if the ambassador of Bajazet had not constantly 
 attended their meetings, although the Christian princes 
 had not yet ventured to enrol the name of the Emperor 
 of Constantinople among their own. In furtherance of 
 their design they were bound to levy an army of four 
 thousand horse and twenty thousand foot; and each was 
 to supply his contingent, — the Pope four thousand 
 horse, Maximilian six thousand, the King of Spain, the 
 Duke of Milan, and the republic of Venice each eight 
 thousand. Each contracting power was bound also to 
 raise and equip, within six weeks from the signature of 
 the treaty, four thousand foot-soldiers. The fleets were 
 to be supplied by the maritime powers, but their expenses 
 were to be equally defrayed by all. 
 
 This league was proclaimed on the 12th of April, 1493, 
 through all the States of Italy, amid, and this particu- 
 larly at Rome, festivals and public rejoicings. Immedi- 
 ately upon the publication of its apparent design, the 
 confederates commenced the fulfilment of its secret arti- 
 cles. Ferdinand and Isabella were engaged to send to 
 Ischia, whither the son of Alfonso had fled, a fleet of 
 sixty galleys, carrying six hundred horse and five thou- 
 
THE BORGIAS. 91 
 
 sand foot, to assist in the recovery of his throne. These 
 troops were to be placed under the command of Gonsalvo 
 de Cordova, who had acquired by the conquest of Gra- 
 nada the reputation of being the first general in Europe. 
 On their part, the Venetians engaged to attack with a 
 fleet of forty galleys, under the orders of Antonio Gri- 
 mani , all the possessions of the French on the shores of 
 Calabria and Naples. The Duke of Milan promised to 
 intercept all succours coming from France, and to expel 
 the Duo d'Orleans from Asti. Maximilian and Bajazet 
 alone remained: the former was to invade the French 
 frontier, and the latter to assist with his money, his 
 fleet, and troops, the Venetians or the Spaniards, accord- 
 ing as he might be called upon by Barberigo or Ferdinand 
 the Catholic. 
 
 This league was the more dangerous to Charles, inas- 
 much as the enthusiasm with which he had been received 
 had now entirely subsided ; for it had happened to him, 
 as to conquerors in general who are blessed with good 
 fortune rather than with great abilities, that, instead of 
 making among the Neapolitan and Calabrian nobles and 
 chief vassals a party inherent to and rooted in the soil, 
 by confirming their privileges and augmenting their 
 power, he had inflicted an injury upon all, by conferring 
 the honours, the employments, and fiefs upon those who 
 had followed him from France, so that the great offices 
 of the kingdom were exclusively possessed by strangers. 
 
 As soon, therefore, as the treaty was made known, 
 Tropea and Amantea, given by Charles to the Lord of 
 Preey, revolted, and displayed the banner of Aragon; 
 and the Spanish fleet had only to anchor before Eeggio 
 in Calabria to induce that city, more dissatisfied with the 
 new than with the former government, to open its gates, 
 whilst Don Federigo, brother of Alfonso, and uncle of 
 
92 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Ferdinand, who had never quitted Brindisi, had only in 
 a similar manner to appear before Tarentum to be wel- 
 comed by the citizens as a liberator. 
 
 Charles VIII. heard this unwelcome intelligence at 
 Naples, whence, already weary of his new conquest, 
 which imposed upon him plans, and the labour of ar- 
 rangements of which he was utterly incapable, he looked 
 earnestly toward France, where triumphal festivals 
 awaited him on his return. He at once yielded, there- 
 fore, to the advice of his councillors to begia his return, 
 menaced as he was on the north by the Germans, and on 
 the south by the Spaniards. In consequence, he ap- 
 pointed Gilbert de Montpensier, of the house of Bourbon, 
 his viceroy; D'Aubigny of the Scottish house of Stuart, 
 lieutenant of Calabria; Etrenne de Vere, commandant 
 of Gaeta; and Don Giuliano, Gabriel de Montfaucon, 
 GuUlaume de Villeneuve, George de SiUy, Bailly de 
 Vitry, and Graziano Guerra, governors of San Angelo, 
 Manfredonia, Trani, Catanzaro, Aquila, and Sulmone. 
 Then, leaving with Montpensier the half of his Swiss 
 troops and Gascons, eight hundred Trench lancers, and 
 about five hundred Italian men-at-arms, — these last 
 under the charge of the prefect of Kome, Prospero and 
 Fabrizio Colonna, and Antonio Savelli, — he quitted 
 Naples on the 20th of May, to traverse the extent of 
 the Italian peninsula with the remainder of his army, 
 consisting of eight hundred French lancers, two hundred 
 gentlemen of his own guard, one hundred Italians, three 
 thousand Swiss, and a thousand French and Gascons. 
 He relied also upon being met in Tuscany by Camillo 
 Vitelli and his brothers, at the head of two hundred and 
 fifty men-at-arms. 
 
 Eight days prior to his departure from Naples, Charles 
 bad despatched Monseigneur de St. Paul, brother of the 
 
THE BORGIAS. 93 
 
 cardinal of Luxembourg, to Rome, and immediately 
 afterwards the Bishop of Lyons, upon a similar mission, 
 both charged to assure Alexander that the King of 
 France was still most firmly and sincerely his ally. 
 Charles, indeed, had nothing so much at heart as to 
 detach the Pope from the league, to obtain thereby at 
 once a spiritual and temporal support for himself ; but 
 a youthful king, at once ambitious, bold, and brave, 
 was not the neighbour Alexander sought: he would 
 listen, therefore, to no overtures whatever; and as the 
 troops he had demanded from the doge, and from 
 Ludovico Sforza, had not yet arrived in sufficient force 
 for the defence of Rome, he amply provisioned the 
 castle of San Angelo, placed there a strong garrison for 
 its defence, and, leaving the Cardinal St. Anastasius to 
 receive Charles, retired with Cesare Borgia to Orvieto. 
 
 Charles remained but three days at Eome , chagrined 
 that, in spite of his entreaties, Alexander had refused 
 to await his arrival. Thus, instead of adopting the 
 advice of Giuliano della Eovere, to call a council, and 
 to depose the Pope, he delivered up to the Roman 
 commanders the fortresses of Terracina and of Civita 
 Vecchia, trusting to effect a reconciliation with the 
 Pope by this act of amity, keeping only that of Ostia, 
 which he had promised to restore to Giuliano. At the 
 expiration of three days he quitted Rome. Directing 
 his march in three columns toward Tuscany, and travers- 
 ing the papal States, he arrived at Sienna on the 13th; 
 where he was rejoined by Philippe de Comines, whom 
 he had sent as ambassador extraordinary to the republic 
 of Venice, and who announced to him that his enemies 
 had forty thousand men under arms, and were preparing 
 to cut off his retreat. This news had only the effect of 
 causing the utmost merriment, both to the king and to 
 
94 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the nobles of his army ; for they had conceived so great 
 a contempt for their enemies, arising from the easy con- 
 quest of their territory, that they could not believe that 
 any army, whatever its strength might be, would risk 
 such an attempt. Charles was obliged to confess his 
 mistake when he learnt at San Toranzo that the advanced 
 guard, commanded by the Marechal de Gie, and com- 
 posed of six hundred lances and fifteen hundred Swiss, 
 on arriving at Fornovo had found themselves opposed 
 to the confederate army encamped at Guiarola. The 
 marshal instantly halted and drew up his troops, profit- 
 ing by the heights he occupied, the country around 
 being well adapted for defensive operations. This done, 
 he sent to demand from Francesco de Gonzaga, Marquis 
 of Mantua, generalissimo of the confederates, a free 
 passage for the army of the king, with provisions at a 
 fair price, forwarding also at the same time a courier to 
 Charles, requesting him to hasten his march, as well as 
 that of the artillery and the rear-guard. 
 
 The confederates returned an evasive reply ; for they 
 were doubtful whether they should risk in one battle 
 the army of Italy, or whether they should endeavour at 
 one blow to destroy the king, thus burying the con- 
 queror amid his conquests. The courier found Charles 
 occupied in directing the transport of his artillery over 
 the heights of Pentremoli , — a matter of great difii- 
 culty; for there being no open road, they were forced to 
 drag up and lower the guns by main strength, which 
 occupied at least two hundred men for each piece. But 
 this being at last effected, Charles set forward for 
 Fornovo, where he arrived on the following morning 
 with his body-guard. From the summit of the moun- 
 tain, where the Marechal de Gie was posted, Charles 
 at one view surveyed the ground occupied by the two 
 
THE BORGIAS. 95 
 
 camps. They were on the right hank of the Taro, at 
 the extremity of a circle of a chain of hills rising as an 
 amphitheatre around; so that the space between the 
 two camps, a vast basin bounded by a swollen torrent, 
 was a broken, gravelly plain, equally unsuited for the 
 movements of cavalry or infantry. To the right lay a 
 little wood which followed the western declivity of the 
 hill, stretching out from the Italian toward the French 
 army, and now occupied by the Stradiotes, who, avail- 
 ing themselves of its coverts, had been already engaged 
 in slight skirmishes with the French troops during their 
 two days' halt to await the arrival of the king. 
 
 This position was not encouraging, for, from the 
 height he occupied, the king could readily survey, and 
 calculate the numerical difference between, the two 
 armies. Indeed, the French army, weakened by the 
 numerous garrisons it had been obliged to leave in the 
 cities and fortresses it had so lately conquered, now 
 scarcely amounted in all to eight thousand soldiers, 
 whilst the number of the enemy exceeded thirty-five 
 thousand men. Charles resolved therefore to negotiate, 
 and sent Comines to the Venetian Proveditori, with 
 whom, owing to his great merits, he possessed consider- 
 able influence. He was charged to say, in the name of 
 the King of France, that his master's only desire was 
 iminterruptedly to continue his march; that therefore 
 he required a free passage across the plains of Lombardy, 
 which extended before him to the foot of the Alps. 
 
 Great dissension prevailed amongst the confederates 
 when Comines arrived. The advice of the Milanese 
 and the Venetians was to allow the march of the king 
 unchecked, — too fortunate, said they, if thus he aban- 
 doned Italy without further loss to them; but this 
 opinion was opposed by the Spaniards and Germans. 
 
96 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 For as their sovereigns had no troops in the army , and 
 their quota of expense had been already paid, they 
 could but profit by a battle ; since if gained, they would 
 gather the fruits of victory, and if defeated, would 
 scarcely suffer from the results. 
 
 The king passed a night of great anxiety ; there had 
 been every indication of rain during the past day, and 
 as the Taro is rapidly swollen by the mountain streams, 
 its bed, fordable to-day, might be impassable on the 
 morrow; and the delay which the confederates had 
 imposed upon Comines was probably demanded only to 
 increase the difficulties of the French army. At night 
 a terrible storm burst over the Apennines, which raged 
 until the break of day ; and the Taro , which before had 
 glided as a gentle stream, had now overflowed its banks, 
 and was rushing onward with a torrent's force. The 
 king, therefore, at an early hour, already armed and 
 on horseback, summoned Comines, and ordered him to 
 proceed to the place appointed by the confederates for 
 the continuance of the negotiations; but scarcely was 
 the order given, when loud cries were heard from the 
 extreme right of the French army. The Stradiotes, 
 sheltered by the woods, had surprised an outpost, cut 
 it to pieces, and carried, according to their custom, the 
 heads of the vanquished at their saddlebows. 
 
 A detachment of cavalry had been sent to check and 
 pursue them, but, like beasts of prey, they had retreated 
 to their woods, where they were soon out of sight. 
 This unexpected attack, incited probably by the Spanish 
 and German ambassadors, produced along the line the 
 effect of a spark upon a train of powder. Comines, on 
 his part, as well as the Venetian Proveditori, endeav- 
 oured, but in vain, to put a stop to the disorder; the 
 light-horse pressed forward, and, following, as was too 
 
THE BORGIAS. 97 
 
 much the custom, the dangerous influence of personal 
 courage, were already engaged, descending into the 
 plain, as into a circus, and seeking an opportunity for 
 distinction. For a moment the young king, betrayed 
 by a similar feeling, was about to forget also his respon- 
 sibility as a general, to act as the soldier; but the 
 Marechal de Gie, M. Claude de La Chatre, M. de 
 Guise, and M. de La Tremouille, checked his impetu- 
 osity, and induced him to adopt a wiser course, which 
 was to cross the Taro without provoking, but without 
 avoiding an engagement, if the enemy should attempt 
 to prevent his passage. 
 
 Acting upon this advice, the king drew up liis army 
 in the following manner: The first division was com- 
 posed of the advanced guard and a corps destined for its 
 support, computed at three hundred and fifty men-at- 
 arms, the best and bravest of the army, commanded by 
 the Marechal de Gie and Jacques Trivulce, and three 
 thousand Swiss, under the orders of Engelbert de Cleves 
 and De Lornay, to whom were added three hundred 
 archers of the guard, on foot, in aid of the cavalry. 
 The second, led by the king, and which formed the main 
 body of the army, consisted of the artillery commanded 
 by Jean de Lagrange, of one hundred gentlemen of the 
 guard, with their banner borne by Gilles Carrmel, the 
 pensioners of the king's household, under D'Aymar de 
 Prie ; the Scotch ; two hundred mounted crossbowmen ; 
 and the remainder of the French archers under the com- 
 mand of M. de Crussol. The third, or rear-guard, pre- 
 ceded by the baggage, was composed of three hundred 
 men-at-arms, under M. de Guise and De La Tremouille ; 
 and this was the least effective division of the army. 
 
 These orders executed, Charles directed the advanced 
 guard to cross the river, which was instantly done oppo- 
 
 VOL. 1. — 7 
 
98 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 site to Fornovo, the water being up to the knees of the 
 horsemen, and the foot-soldiers holding on by the tails 
 of the horses. When he saw they had gained the 
 opposite side, he put his trooijs in motion, to ford the 
 river at the same spot, commanding De Guise and De 
 La Tremouille to regulate the march of the rear upon 
 that of his division. De Guise strictly obeyed his 
 instructions, and about ten o'clock in the morning the 
 whole of the French army were upon the left bank of 
 the Taro; and at the same time, as the enemy were 
 rapidly advancing, the baggage, under Odet de Eiberac, 
 was removed from the rear to a position on the extreme 
 left. Francesco de Gonzaga, general-in-chief of the 
 confederates, had regulated his plans by those of the 
 king. By his orders the Count of Cajazzo, with four 
 hundred men-at-arms, and two thousand foot-soldiers, 
 was to cross the Taro, near the Venetian camp, to 
 oppose the French advanced guard, whilst he, ascend- 
 ing the river as far as Fornovo, should effect a passage 
 by the same ford as Charles, to attack his rear. Be- 
 tween the two fords he had drawn up the Stradiotes, 
 with orders that as soon as they saw the French attacked 
 both in front and rear, they should cross the river, and 
 engage them in flank. In addition, Gonzaga, in case of 
 retreat, had left upon the other bank of the river three 
 corps of reserve, — one to protect the camp, under the 
 orders of the Proveditori, and the others, under 
 Antonio de' Montefeltro and Annibale Bentivoglio, 
 drawn up in echelons, so as to support each other. 
 
 These manoeuvres had not passed unobserved by 
 Charles, who recognised in them that skilful strategy 
 which made the generals of Italy the first tacticians of 
 the world; but, unable to avoid the danger, he ordered 
 the army still to advance. This onward movement was 
 
THE BORGIAS. 99 
 
 hardly commenced before he was attacked by Cajazzo, 
 with his four hundred men-at-arms and two thousand 
 infantry, and by Gonzaga, who, as arranged, charged 
 the rear with six hundred men, a squadron of Stradiotes, 
 and more than five thousand foot-soldiers, forming the 
 elite of his force, and greatly exceeding in this one 
 division the entire force of the French. When De Guise 
 and De La Tremouille found themselves thus hemmed 
 in, they ordered their men to wheel about, whilst De 
 Gie and Trivulce, who commanded the advanced divi- 
 sion, drew up, and brought their lances to rest. In the 
 mean time the king, stationed in the centre, knighted 
 such of the gentlemen as, by their valour, or his esteem 
 for them, had claims to this distinction. 
 
 Suddenly the cries of a violent onset were heard; it 
 was from the rear, now engaged with the Marquis of 
 Mantua. In this encounter, where each had selected 
 his opponent, as in a tourney, many lances were broken, 
 particularly among the Italians, for theirs, being hol- 
 lowed to make them lighter, were consequently less 
 solid. Those who were thus disarmed immediately 
 drew their swords; and as they greatly exceeded his 
 troops in numbers, the king saw them suddenly fall 
 upon the right wing, as if to surround it, whilst at the 
 same time loud shouts were heard in front of the centre 
 division, which proceeded from the Stradiotes, who 
 had now crossed the river, and commenced their attack. 
 The king instantly divided his force into two detach- 
 ments; and, giving the command of one to the Bastard 
 of Bourbon, to enable him to hold the Stradiotes in 
 check, he charged with the other to the aid of the 
 advanced guard, throwing himself into the thickest of 
 the melee, striking like a king, but fighting like the 
 lowest of his commanders. Thus relieved, the rear 
 
100 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 maintained their position, although the enemy was as 
 five to one, and here the combat was maintained with 
 the most inveterate courage. 
 
 The Bastard of Bourbon threw himself before the 
 Stradiotes, according to the king's orders, but, carried 
 away by his horse, he was borne into their ranks, and 
 instantly cut down. This loss of their chief, the 
 strange costume of their antagonists, and their peculiar 
 mode of warfare, caused at first some confusion among 
 his troops; the centre fell into disorder, and gave way, 
 breaking their ranks, instead of keeping together and 
 resisting as a mass. This false steis would have been 
 destructive, if many of the Stradiotes, seeing the bag- 
 gage exposed, had not, instead of following up their 
 advantage, rushed toward it in the hope of winning a 
 rich booty. The main body, however, still remained, 
 pressing vigorously the French, and rendering their 
 lances useless by their terrible scimitars. 
 
 At this moment the king, who had repulsed the 
 attack of the Marquis of Mantua, returned to the aid of 
 the centre , and charged the Stradiotes at the head of the 
 gentlemen of his household, armed no longer with his 
 lance, which he had broken, but with his sword, which 
 flashed round his head like lightning; but, whether 
 carried forward by his horse, or urged onward by his 
 impetuous spirit, he was suddenly entangled amid the 
 Stradiotes, accompanied only by eight of his men, one 
 of his esquires, and his standard-bearer. The cry of 
 " France, France, France ! to the rescue ! " quickly 
 rallied the remainder, who, seeing that the danger was 
 less than was at first suspected, began to take speedy 
 vengeance on the Stradiotes for the blows they had 
 received. 
 
 Things went still better in front, which Cajazzo was 
 
THE BORGIAS. 101 
 
 to have attacked; for although commanding a division 
 greatly superior in numbers to the French, and although 
 he seemed at first to intend a formidable assault, he 
 drew up suddenly at full charge about twelve paces 
 from his opponents, and wheeled about without crossing 
 a single lance. The French wished to pursue ; but De 
 Gie, fearful it might be a snare to separate the front 
 from the centre, ordered this line to maintain its posi- 
 tion. The Swiss, however, ignorant of the order, or 
 neglecting it, followed the enemy, and although on foot, 
 overtook and engaged thorn, slaying about a hundred, 
 which threw the remainder into such disorder that some 
 fled straggling over the plain, whilst others crossed 
 the river to regain their camp. De Grie, upon this, 
 despatched a hundred men to aid the king, who, still 
 fighting with the utmost courage, risked his life at 
 every instant, constantly separated from his oificers, 
 who could not follow him, throwing himself with the 
 rallying cry of " France! " wherever the danger was the 
 greatest, and regardless of support. He no longer 
 fought with his sword, which he had broken as well as 
 his lance, but with a heavy battle-axe, of which_^very 
 stroke was fatal, whether from the blow or thrust. 
 
 The Stradiotes , thus pressed, had changed their attack, 
 into defence, and their defence into flight. It was then 
 the king was exposed to the greatest danger; for, follow- 
 ing their retreat with his accustomed impetuosity, he 
 was again alone and surrounded by them in such num- 
 bers that, had not panic rendered them unobservant to 
 their advantage, they had only to unite to crush both 
 horse and rider. "But he is well protected," says 
 Comines, " whom God protects ; and God preserved the 
 King of France." Nevertheless, the rear was still 
 much harassed, for though De Guise and La Tremouille 
 
102 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 still maintained their position, yet it is probable they 
 must have yielded to superior force if succour had not 
 unexpectedly arrived from two quarters. The first was 
 brought by the king, who, freed from danger amid the 
 fugitives, sought it again amid the combatants. The 
 second was from the retainers of the army, who, upon 
 the flight of the Stradiotes, arming themselves with the 
 axes used to cut the wood for erecting the tents, fell 
 upon the enemy, hamstringing the horses, and breaking 
 the helmets of the dismounted cavaliers. 
 
 The Italians could not resist this double shock; the 
 furiafrancese defied all the calculations of strategy. For 
 a century they had forgotten or laid aside these bloody 
 contests for the kind of tournament they had nicknamed 
 war; so that, notwithstanding the efforts of Gonzaga, 
 the rear hesitated, wheeled around and fled, recrossing 
 in great haste, and with the utmost diflB.Gulty, the Taro, 
 now stm more swoUen by the raiu which had fallen con- 
 tinuously during the conflict. Charles was advised by 
 some to follow up his advantage, for such was the dis- 
 order of the confederates that from the field of battle, 
 which the French had so honourably won, they were 
 seen flying scattered in all directions; but the Marechal 
 de Grie and De Guise and La TremouiUe, who could not 
 even be suspected of recoiling before any fancied danger, 
 restrained this impulse, observing that both men and 
 horse were now so fatigued that an attempt of this kind 
 might risk the victory already in their hands. Their 
 opinion was adopted, although opposed by Trivulce, 
 CamiUo Vitelli, and Francesco Secco. The king, there- 
 fore, retired to a little village upon the left bank of the 
 Taro, where he dismounted and took off his armour. 
 Of all the officers and soldiers of his army, he had prob- 
 ably been the best and bravest combatant. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 103 
 
 The stream of the Taro was so increased during the 
 night that the Italians, even had they recovered from 
 their shock, could not have advanced in pursuit. Charles, 
 on his side, having conquered, had no desire to show 
 signs of flight ; he remained, therefore, the next day under 
 arms, sleeping the same evening at Medesina, a village a 
 mile only from the spot where he had first rested after 
 the battle. But reflecting that he had done enough to 
 maintain the honour of his army, having beaten an enemy 
 whose numbers were quadruple his own, leaving three 
 thousand of their dead upon the field, and having waited 
 the renewal of the combat for a day and a half, had they 
 desired to retrieve their loss, he ordered his watch-fires 
 to be renewed to induce the confederates to believe 
 him still encamped, and then, two hours before daybreak, 
 his troops, now nearly beyond danger of attack, were 
 silently put in motion and advanced upon Borgo San 
 Donino. 
 
 In the mean time the Pope had re-entered Rome, 
 where news quite in accordance with his policy soon 
 reached him. Ferdinand had gone from Sicily into 
 Calabria with six thousand volunteers and a considerable 
 number of Spanish horse and foot, headed by the famous 
 Gonsalvo de Cordova, whose reputation as a general was 
 great, although slightly tarnished by the defeat at Senii- 
 nora. About the same time the Aragonese fleet had de- 
 feated the French; and the battle of the Taro, although 
 a defeat for the confederates, was yet a victory for the 
 Pope, as its result was to open a retreat toward Prance 
 of the monarch whom he regarded as his deadliest enemy. 
 Thus assured that he had no more to fear, he despatched 
 a mandate to Charles, — who had delayed his march to 
 succour No vara, — by which, in virtue of his pontifical 
 authority, he ordered him to quit Italy with his army 
 
104 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 and to recall all his troops from Naples within the space 
 of ten days, on pain of being excommunicated and sum- 
 moned to appear before him in person. Charles VIII. 
 replied that he was at a loss to conceive how the Pope 
 could order him to quit Italy, seeing that the army of 
 the League, of which he was the head, had not only re- 
 fused, but also had endeavoured, though in vain, to pre- 
 vent his free return to Prance, — a fact of which probably 
 his Holiness was aware; secondly, that as to the recall 
 of his troops from Naples, he could not be guilty of an 
 act so irreligious, considering they had entered that city, 
 not only with the full consent, but with the apostolic 
 benediction of his Hohness; thirdly, that as to his 
 appearance in person in the capital of the Christian 
 world, he was astonished that such a demand should be 
 now made, seeing that scarcely six weeks before, when 
 he earnestly desired to obtain an interview to evince his 
 filial reverence and obedience, his Holiness, instead of 
 granting the favour he solicited, had quitted Rome with 
 such precipitation that he could not effect his purpose, 
 how great soever his diligence had been ; that as for this 
 last article, however, he would promise his Holiness, if 
 he would engage to await his arrival, to give him the 
 fullest satisfaction upon this point by returning to Rome 
 as soon as the affairs of state, which had recalled him to 
 his kingdom, were arranged to his satisfaction. 
 
 However Charles might indulge in this haughty rail- 
 lery, he was not less constrained to obey in part the 
 strange mandate he had received. In fact, notwithstand- 
 ing the arrival of a reinforcement of Swiss, he was con- 
 strained, so urgent was the necessity of his return to 
 France, to conclude a treaty with Ludovico Sforza, by 
 which he ceded to him Novara, whilst Gilbert de Mont- 
 pensier and D'Aubigny, after having defended, step by 
 
THE BORGIAS. 105 
 
 step, Calabria and Naples, were reduced, after a siege of 
 thirty-two days, to sign the capitulation of Atella on the 
 20th of July, 1496. By this Ferdinand was acknowl- 
 edged King of Naples, and put in possession of all the 
 fortresses and places belonging thereto, but which he 
 enjoyed only for three months, as he died on the 7th of 
 September at the castle of Somma, near Vesuvius. He 
 was succeeded by his uncle Frederic; and thus within 
 three years Alexander, whilst he established his power 
 on the throne of the pontiffs, had witnessed the transi- 
 tion of five kings on the throne of Naples: Ferdinand 
 I., Alfonso II., Charles VIII., Ferdinand II., and 
 Frederic. 
 
 Every such event was, however, of great advantage to 
 Alexander, since every successive king was king only 
 upon the condition of receiving investiture from the 
 Pope. The result was that both in power and opinion 
 Alexander was the only one who had gained by these 
 changes, having been successively recognised, in spite of 
 his acts of simony, as the supreme head of the Church by 
 the Duke of Milan, the republics of Florence and of 
 Venice, and in addition flattered and courted by the five 
 kings who had occupied the throne of Naples. He 
 thought, therefore, that the period was now arrived to 
 advance his plans for the future greatness of his house ; on 
 the one hand by the Duke of Gandia, who should possess 
 all the temporal dignities, and on the other by Cesare, 
 who could be raised to all the ecclesiastical offices. 
 
 To execute this design the Pope elevated four Spaniards 
 to the cardinalship, which, increasing the number of his 
 countrymen in the college to twenty-two, assured him a 
 constant and certain majority. It was next a point of 
 political importance to sweep away from the environs of 
 Rome all those petty nobles known as vicars of the 
 
106 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Church, but whom Alexander called " handcuffs of the 
 papacy." He had already started the movement by 
 exciting the Orsini against the Colonnas, when the inva- 
 sion of Charles obliged him to desist, and to combine 
 all the resources of his mind and the forces of the papal 
 States to provide for his own protection. The Orsini, 
 the ancient friends of the Pope, had, however, joined the 
 French, and entered with them into the kingdom of 
 Naples ; and Virginio, one of the chiefs of that powerful 
 family, had been made prisoner during the war, and was 
 now a captive in the hands of Ferdinand. This was an 
 opportunity Alexander could not neglect; therefore, 
 having first commanded the King of Naples not to release 
 his prisoner, whom, since the 1st of June, 1496, he had 
 declared a rebel, on the 26th of October following, 
 immediately subsequent to the accession of Frederic, 
 whom he knew to be entirely dependent upon him, not 
 having yet received the investiture, he proceeded to pro- 
 nounce a sentence of confiscation against Virginio and the 
 Orsini; but as a mere sentence of confiscation was in- 
 effectual, and as it was requisite to dispossess them of 
 their estates, he made overtures to the Colonnas, alleging 
 that as a mark of his esteem he intrusted to them, under 
 the direction of his son Francesco, Duke of G-andia, 
 the execution of the decree against their enemies, — thus 
 constantly weakening his neighbours by availing himself 
 of their mutual hatred, until he could with safety attack 
 and destroy both. The Colonnas accepted his projjosal; 
 the Duke of Gandia was named general of the Church, - ■ 
 an office which his father conferred upon him in tl;e 
 church of St. Peter. 
 
 At first everything proceeded to the Pope's satisfac- 
 tion, and before the close of the year the papal army was 
 in possession of many castles and fortresses belonging to 
 
THE BORGIAS. 107 
 
 the Orsini, so that they considered themselves lost; when 
 Charles VIII. — whose aid they had solicited, with 
 but faint hopes, preoccupied as he was with the affairs 
 of his own kingdom, so that he could not greatly assist 
 them — sent them, in default of troops. Carlo, son of 
 Virginio Orsinio, and Vitellozzo Vitelli, brother of 
 Camillo Vitelli, one of the three valiant condottieri who 
 had fought with him at the battle of the Taro. Their 
 acknowledged bravery and military skill, aided by a con- 
 siderable sum of money with which Charles had provided 
 them, was attended with the most favourable results; 
 for no sooner had they arrived at Citta-di-Castello, and 
 announced their intention to raise troops, than men 
 everywhere enlisted under their banner. These were 
 soon organised; and as the Vitelli had, during their resi- 
 dence in France, particularly studied the military system 
 there in use, which was superior to the Italian, they 
 adopted the improvements it suggested. These consisted 
 chiefly in changes connected with the artillery, and in 
 substituting for the arms generally in use pikes similar to 
 those borne by the Swiss but two feet longer, in the 
 management of which Vitelli exercised his men for four 
 months; at the expiration of which time, having obtained 
 some auxiliaries from Perusia, Todi, and Narni, he 
 advanced toward Bracciano, to which the Duke of 
 Urbino, in the interest of the Pope, had laid siege. 
 The Venetian general, hearing of Vitelli's approach, 
 advanced to meet him, and the two armies met at 
 Swiano, where an engagement immediately took place. 
 
 The army of the Pope had a division of about eight 
 hundred Germans, upon which the Dukes of Urbino and 
 of Gandia principally relied ; and justly so, they being in 
 fact the best troops in Europe. Vitelli, however, attacked 
 them with his infantry, who, armed with their formid- 
 
108 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 able pikes, transfixed their opponents, whose weapons 
 were four feet shorter, before tliey could return their 
 thrust. At the same time his light artillery, keeping 
 pace with the most rapid movements of the army, soon 
 silenced the enemy's fire; so that, after a long resistance, 
 the papal troops fled, carrying with them, toward Ron- 
 ciglione, the Duke of Gandia, wounded in the face by 
 a pike, Fabrizio Colonna, and the legate. The Duke of 
 Urbino, who fought in the rear to protect the retreat, was 
 taken prisoner, with all his artillery and baggage. Great 
 as this success was, it did not mislead Vitelli as to his 
 position ; he knew that the Orsini were too much weakened 
 to continue the war, that their military fund would be soon 
 exhausted, and that the disbandment of their troops must 
 then ensue. He hastened, therefore, to excuse his victory 
 by ofifering terms that he would probably have refused 
 to sign if he had been beaten ; and these were instantly 
 acceded to by the Pope, who, in the interval, had heard 
 that Trivulce was about to repass the Alps, and to return 
 to Italy with three thousand Swiss, and feared, more- 
 over, that this was but the advanced guard of the King 
 of France. It was consequently agreed that the Orsini 
 should pay seventy millions of florins for the expenses 
 of the war, and that the prisoners should be exchanged 
 on both sides without ransom, excepting the Duke of 
 Urbino. As security for the payment of the sum agreed 
 upon, the Orsini surrendered the fortresses of Anguillara 
 and of Cervetri; and as, upon the day appointed for 
 its payment, the amount was not forthcoming, they de- 
 livered up, instead, the Duke of Urbino (whose ran- 
 som, fixed at 40,000 ducats, was nearly equivalent) to 
 the papal commissioners, the Cardinals Sforza and San 
 Severino. 
 
 Alexander VI., a rigid observer of stipulations upon 
 
THE BORGIAS. 109 
 
 this occasion, exacted from his own general, taken pris- 
 oner in his service, the ransom which was due to his 
 enemies. Moreover, he remitted to Carlo Orsino and 
 Vitellozzo Vitelli the dead body of Virgiuio, in default of 
 his living person. By fatality the prisoner had died 
 only eight days before the signature of the treaty, of the 
 same malady which had carried off so suddenly the brother 
 of Bajazet. It was just as this treaty was signed that 
 Prospero Colonna and Gonsalvo de Cordova, whom the 
 Pope had requested Frederic to send to his assistance, 
 arrived with a force of Spaniards and Neapolitans. Un- 
 able to direct them against the Orsini, and unwilUng to 
 appear as preferring a useless request, he employed them 
 for the reduction of Ostia. Gonsalvo was recompensed 
 for this by receiving from the hands of the Pope the 
 consecrated " golden rose, " the highest distinction his 
 Holiness could confer, and which honour he shared with 
 Maximilian, the King of Prance, the Doge of Venice, 
 and the Marquis of Mantua. 
 
 Meanwhile, the festival of the Assumption drew nigh, 
 at which Gonsalvo was invited to assist. In consequence 
 he quitted his palace, and went in great pomp to meet 
 the papal cavalry, placing himself upon the left of the 
 Duke of Gandia, whose personal beauty, heightened by 
 his splendid retinue, attracted universal attention ; for he 
 was followed by a suite of pages and valets, whose liveries 
 exceeded in splendour anything previously witnessed in 
 Eome, the city of religious pomp. These were all 
 mounted on horses, in rich caparisons of velvet with deep 
 silver fringes, amid which were hung, at regular dis- 
 tances, bells of the same metal. The duke himself was 
 clothed in a robe of gold brocade, wearing around his 
 neck a string of the most costly oriental pearls, and on 
 his cap a cham of gold, ornamented with diamonds, the 
 
110 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 smallest of which was valued at twenty thousand ducats. 
 This magnificence was the more enhanced by its contrast 
 with the plain costume of Cesare Borgia, whose purple 
 robe admitted of no ornament whatever. Cesare's hatred 
 of his brother was increased by the murmurs of applause 
 that everywhere greeted his approach; and from that 
 moment he had decided upon the fate of the man who 
 incessantly crossed the path of his pride, his passions, 
 and his ambition. As for the Duke of Gandia, " it was 
 well for him to leave, " says Tommasi, " by this fete a 
 public memorial of his gracefulness and of his splendour, 
 as this pomp was but the precursor of his funeral. " 
 
 But Alexander was not content that his son should 
 enjoy a merely vain triumph of wealth and pride, and 
 the war with the Orsini not having realised its proposed 
 results, he decided to increase his possessions by doing 
 that for which in his discourse he had reproached Calix- 
 tus; namely, by separating from the papal estates the 
 cities of Benevento, Terracina, and Pontecorvo, and 
 erecting them into a duchy, to be given as an appanage 
 to the Duke of Gandia. This was proposed and decided 
 upon in full consistory, and served still more to exas- 
 perate the hatred of Cesare, who nevertheless shared in 
 the paternal favours, being appointed legate a latere at 
 the court of the King of Naples. 
 
 Lucrezia, who had arrived at Rome ostensibly to be 
 present at the festival, but in truth to be again the means 
 of promoting the ambitious designs of her father, after 
 having passed a few days with him and her brothers, had 
 secluded herself in the convent of San Sisto, without 
 any known reason for this step, and in spite of the re- 
 peated solicitations of Cesare that she should delay her 
 resolution till the day of his departure for Naples. This 
 obstinacy on her part awakened suspicions on hisj for 
 
THE BORGIAS. HI 
 
 from the day when the Duke of Gandia had so attracted 
 the attention of the people, he thought she evinced an 
 increasing coldness toward him; and his hatred toward 
 the rival of his shameless passion rose to such a height 
 that he resolved to sweep him from his path, whatever 
 might be the consequence. He desired, therefore, the 
 chief of his shirri to attend him in his palace the same 
 evening. 
 
 Michelotto was well prepared for these mysterious mes- 
 sages, the objects of which generally were to serve some 
 amour, or to accomplish some deed of vengeance ; and, 
 as in either case he was well rewarded, he was prompt at 
 the rendezvous at the appointed hour. Cesare awaited 
 his arrival, carelessly leaning against a large projecting 
 chimney-piece, clothed no longer in the cardinal's robe 
 and hat, but in a doublet of black velvet, the slashes of 
 which displayed a satin vest of the same colour. One 
 of his hands played mechanically with his gloves, whilst 
 the other rested upon a poisoned dagger, never absent 
 from his side. This was the costume usually worn by 
 him upon his nocturnal adventures; it excited in Miche- 
 lotto, therefore, no surprise; he remarked only that 
 Cesare's eyes flashed more luridly than usual, and his 
 cheeks, generally pale, were then absolutely livid. Miche- 
 lotto at one glance saw the coming shadow of a deed of 
 evil. Cesare motioned to him to close the door; he was 
 obeyed; then, after a short interval, during which the 
 eyes of Borgia seemed as if they would scan every 
 thought and feeling of the reckless bravo who stood un- 
 covered before him, — 
 
 "Michelotto," he said, with a voice of which a slight 
 accent of raillery betrayed the only sign of emotion, 
 " what think you ; does this costume become me ? " 
 
 Habituated as the bravo was to the circumlocutions 
 
112 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 with whicli Ms master most frequently prefaced his de- 
 signs, this question was so unexpected that for a moment 
 he was silent, then answered : " Admirably ! and, thanks 
 to it, your Excellency has now the appearance, as well 
 as the heart, of a brave soldier." 
 
 " I am well pleased that this is your opinion, " replied 
 Cesare ; " and now can you tell me why, instead of this 
 dress, which I can wear only at night, I am forced to 
 disguise myself by day beneath the robe and hat of a 
 cardinal, and to spend my life in riding from church to 
 church, consistory to consistory, instead of leading to the 
 field of battle some noble army, in which you should 
 hold the rank of captain, in lieu of being, as you are, the 
 poor chief of a band of miserable sbirri ? " 
 
 " Yes, monsignor, " replied Michelotto, who had 
 guessed, from his first words, the intentions of Cesare, 
 " yes ; he who is the cause of this is Francesco, Duke of 
 Gandia and of Benevento, your elder brother. " 
 
 " Know you, " resumed Cesai e, giving to this answer 
 no further sign of approbation than a slight movement of 
 his head, whilst a ghastly smile lingered upon his fea- 
 tures, — "know you who has the wealth and not the 
 genius ; who has the casque and not the head ; who has 
 the sword and not the hand ? " 
 
 " Again the Duke of Gandia ! " said Michelotto. 
 
 " Know you, moreover, the man who is ever in the 
 way of my ambition, my power, and my love ? " 
 
 " Still the Duke of Gandia ! " 
 
 " And what think you of it ? " demanded Cesare. 
 
 " I think — that he must die ! " coolly replied the 
 bravo. 
 
 " And your opinion is mine, Michelotto, " said Cesare, 
 advancing toward him, and grasping his hand ; " and my 
 sole regret is, not to have thought so before ; for had I 
 
THE BORGIAS. 113 
 
 last year borne but a sword, instead of a crozier, I shotild 
 be now the possessor of some rich domain. The Pope 
 wishes to advance the greatness of his house ; it is well, 
 but he mistakes the means. It is I he should create a 
 duke; it is my brother he should nominate a cardinal. 
 Had he done this, one thing is most certain : I should 
 have united to the authority of his power the intrepidity 
 of a heart resolute to make that authority and power 
 more effective. He whose ambition would ruin a State 
 or a kingdom must trample under foot the obstacles in 
 his path; he must strike with the sword or the poniard, 
 nor fear to steep his hands in his own blood. He should 
 follow the example left by all the founders of empires, 
 from Eomulus to Bajazet, who became kings by fratri- 
 cide ! And well have you said, Michelotto ; what their 
 position was is mine, and I am resolved never to recoil 
 before it. You now know for what purpose you have 
 been summoned. Was I right, — can I depend on 
 you?" 
 
 Michelotto, who saw his own advantage in the crime, 
 was indifferent to the rest ; he answered, therefore, that 
 he was entirely at Cesare's disposal ; he had only to in- 
 timate the time, place, and mode of execution. Cesare 
 replied that as to the time, it must be soon, as he him- 
 self was about to depart for Naples ; as to the place and 
 mode of execution, these would necessarily depend upon 
 their opportunities, but that in the mean time both must 
 watch, and seize the first favourable occasion. 
 
 On the following morning Cesare learnt that the day 
 of his departure was fixed for the 15th of June, and re- 
 ceived at the same time an invitation from his mother to 
 sup with her on the 14th. Michelotto was directed to 
 be in readiness that night at eleven. 
 
 The table was arranged in the open air, and in an 
 
 VOL. I. — 8 
 
114 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 extensive vineyard that Vanozza possessed, near San 
 Pietro ad Vincula. The guests were, Cesare Borgia, the 
 Duke of Gandia, the Prince de SquUlaoe, Dona Sancia, 
 his wife, the Cardinal of Monte Reals, Francesco Borgia, 
 son of Calixtus III., Don Kodrigo Borgia, Don God- 
 fredo, brother of Cardinal Giovanni Borgia, and Don 
 Alfonso Borgia, nephew of the Pope, — in fact, all the 
 family, Lucrezia excepted, who, residing still at the con- 
 vent, had refused to be present. It was a splendid re- 
 past. Cesare seemed as gay as was his wont; the Duke 
 of Gandia more animated than usual. They were yet 
 at table when a man masked brought to the young duke 
 a letter, which he instantly opened, whilst his cheeks 
 were flushed with joy. After reading it, he merely 
 said, " I will go. " He then thrust it hastily into his 
 pocket, — but not so quickly as to elude the rapid glance 
 of Cesare, who thought he recognised in the address the 
 handwriting of his sister Lucrezia. 
 
 The messenger departed without attracting the atten- 
 tion of any one but Cesare, for it was then the custom 
 for messages of assignation to be brought either by men 
 whose features were concealed by a mask, or by women 
 hidden by a veil. At ten o'clock the guests arose from 
 the table ; yet, as the air still breathed the calm luxury 
 of an Italian climate, tliey walked for some time among 
 the beautiful pines which shaded Vanozza's palace, but 
 without Cesare' s losing sight for one minute of his 
 brother. At eleven the Duke of Gandia went away; 
 Cesare did the same, alleging as a reason that he was 
 desirous of proceeding that evening to the Vatican, to 
 take leave of the Pope, — a duty he could not discharge 
 on the morrow, his departure being fixed for the break 
 of day. 
 
 The brothers, therefore, departed together, mounted 
 
THE BORGIAS. 115 
 
 their horses and proceeded side by side until they 
 reached the Palazzo Borgia, where the Cardinal Ascanio 
 Sforza then resided, having received it as a gift from 
 the Pope on the day of his election. The Duke of 
 Gandia here separated from his brother, saying, with a 
 smile, that it was not yet his intention to return home, 
 as he must first keep an engagement he had made. 
 Cesare replied that he was in all respects the master of 
 his own actions, and bade him good-night. The Duke 
 of Gandia turned to the right, Cesare to the left, remark- 
 ing, only, that the street down which the duke proceeded 
 led toward the monastery in which Lucrezia resided; 
 then, with this slight confirmation of his suspicion, he 
 turned his horse toward the Vatican, where, having found 
 the Pope, he took leave, and received his benediction. 
 Prom that hour all is as obscure as the darkness which 
 shrouded the terrible event now to be related. 
 
 On quitting Cesare, the Duke of Gandia appears to 
 have dismissed his attendants and proceeded with a valet 
 toward the Piazza della Giudecoa. He here found the 
 man who had spoken to him during the banquet, and, 
 forbidding his servant to follow him any farther, he de- 
 sired him to await his return in the street in which they 
 then were, adding that in about two hours he would 
 rejoin him. At the time mentioned the duke returned, 
 dismissed his masked conductor, and proceeded toward 
 his palace; but scarcely had he passed the corner Del 
 Ghetto, when he was attacked by four men on foot, 
 directed by a man on horseback. Supposing that he 
 either was assailed by robbers, or was the victim of some 
 mistake, the Duke of Gandia called out his name; but 
 this, instead of arresting the daggers of the murderers, 
 served but to redouble their blows, and he soon fell dead 
 by the body of his dying servant. 
 
116 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 The horseman, who, passive and motionless, had hith- 
 erto witnessed the scene, now reined his horse backward 
 toward the body, which was placed by the four assassins 
 behind him ; these then walked on the right and on the 
 left of the horseman, to conceal the body and keep it in 
 place, and the party soon disappeared in the narrow 
 street which leads to the church Santa Maria di Monti- 
 celli. As for the servant, believing him to be dead, 
 they left him stretched upon the pavement. But as he 
 partially recovered, his groans were heard by the inmates 
 of a poor dwelling-house, who raised and placed him 
 upon a bed, where he instantly expired, without being 
 able to give the slightest indication of the assassins, or of 
 their victim. 
 
 The duke's return was awaited at his palace that night 
 and the following morning ; expectation became fear, and 
 fear soon became alarm; his friends sought the Pope and 
 informed him that since his departure from his mother's 
 house, the duke had not been seen. But Alexander 
 endeavoured to dissipate their anxiety and his own, hop- 
 ing that his son, overtaken by daylight in some intrigue, 
 was awaiting the closing-in of night, to return home. 
 But the night passed as the day, — he came not ; so that 
 the following morning the Pope, a prey to the saddest 
 forebodings, abandoned himself to grief, unable to give 
 utterance to more than these words, a thousand times 
 repeated : " Search for him ; search for him ; ascertain 
 how my poor son died!" His wish was earnestly com- 
 plied with, for the duke was beloved by all; but inquiry 
 was in vain, they discovered only the body of the valet ; 
 of the master there was no trace. Thinking, however, 
 that he had probably been thrown into the Tiber, they 
 commenced their search, ascending the river from the 
 street DeUa Eipetta, inquiring of all the boatmen, or 
 
THE BORGIAS. 117 
 
 fishermen, who might have seen, either from their win- 
 dows or from their boats, whatever had happened in their 
 vicinity during the two preceding nights. At first all 
 inquiry was useless, but on reaching the street Del Fon- 
 tanone, they found a man who stated that during the 
 night of the fourteenth or fifteenth he had witnessed a 
 circumstance that might have some connexion with the 
 subject of their anxiety. The following was his state- 
 ment : — 
 
 " Having left, on Wednesday evening, my cargo of 
 wood upon the bank, I remained in my boat enjoying 
 the freshness of the night, and watching lest another 
 should remove what I had just discharged, when, to- 
 ward two o'clock in the morning, I observed two men 
 advance from the street to the left of the church of San 
 Geronimo, whose cautious glances, directed on all sides, 
 showed they had come thither to observe whether any 
 one was passing but themselves. Assured that the 
 street was empty, they returned, and from it two more 
 shortly emerged, using the same precaution, as if to 
 satisfy themselves that all was as before ; which being so, 
 they gave a signal to their comrades to rejoin them. A 
 man on horseback now came forward, having behind him 
 a corpse, the head and arms of which hung down on one 
 side, the legs upon the other, supported by the two men 
 I had first noticed examining the street and places 
 adjacent. Three of them now approached the river, 
 whilst the others watched the street, and, turning toward 
 the spot where the filth of the city is discharged into the 
 Tiber, the horseman backed his horse toward the stream, 
 and the two men at his side taking the body, one by the 
 feet, the other by the head, swung it to and fro a few 
 times, and then threw it with all their strength into the 
 river. On hearing the noise of its fall into the water, 
 
118 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the cavalier asked, ' Is all over ; is it done ? ' The men 
 replied, 'Yes, signer.' He turned his horse round, and 
 seeing a dark mass floating upon the stream, he inquired 
 what that might be. ' Signor, it is his mantle, ' replied 
 one, whereupon another, running toward the place where 
 it was yet seen, sunk it immediately with stones. This 
 done, they retired, proceeding along the principal street, 
 but soon disappearing in the narrow way which leads 
 you toward San Giacomo. " 
 
 Upon this, which destroyed all hopes, even in the 
 hearts of those in whom hope had hitherto lingered, one 
 of the servants of the Pope demanded why, being the 
 witness of such a scene, he had not instantly denounced 
 it to the governor. But the man repHed that since he 
 had begun to work upon the river he had seen bodies 
 throvra. in a similar manner a hundred times into its 
 stream, without hearing that it had ever caused the 
 slightest anxiety; he was persuaded, therefore, that it 
 would be as before, and had not considered it to be a 
 duty to speak, believing no greater importance would be 
 attached to the present than to any former occurrence of 
 the sort. 
 
 Guided by the information thus obtained, the servants 
 of his Holiness collected immediately the boatmen and 
 fishermen of the river, and, promising a high reward to 
 him who should- first discover the body, they had soon 
 more than a hundred of them at work, so that before 
 evening of the same day, two bodies were brought up, 
 one of which was instantly recognised as that of the 
 murdered duke. The first examination of it left no 
 doubt as to the cause of his death. He had been stabbed 
 in nine places, his clothes remained untouched, his purse 
 was filled with gold ; it was evidently an act of revenge, 
 and not one of robbery. The boat in which the body 
 
THE BORGIAS. 119 
 
 was placed ascended the river to the castle of San Angelo, 
 where, upon its arrival, it was clothed in the splendid 
 dress the duke had worn at the festival of the Assump- 
 tion, and near it were arranged the insignia of the general 
 of the Church. It remained thus exposed for one day to 
 all hut his father, whose grief would not suffer him to 
 witness the scene. At night his most faithful attendants 
 hore the hody to the church della Madonna del Popolo, 
 with all that pomp with which the court and the Church 
 could at once invest the funeral of a Pope's son. 
 
120 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 In the mean time Cesare Borgia had placed with his 
 blood-stained hands the crown upon the head of Frederic 
 of Aragon. This blow had deeply affected Alexander; 
 but, ignorant at first whom to suspect, he had given the 
 most rigorous orders to discover the assassins. But 
 slowly the hideous truth revealed itself before him. 
 He saw that the blow which had thus stricken his house 
 proceeded from his house. His despair became frenzy. 
 He ran like one frantic through the Vatican, and, enter- 
 ing the consistory, his clothes torn, his hair dishevelled 
 and covered with ashes, he confessed with broken sobs 
 all the crimes and disorders of his past life, acknowledg- 
 ing the blow, inflicted on his own blood by his own 
 blood, to be the just retribution of God; then retiring 
 into one of the darkest and most secret recesses of his 
 palace, he shut himself up, determined, as he said, to 
 starve himself to death. And, in fact, for more than 
 sixty hours he denied himself all food and rest, reply- 
 ing to those who sought to divert him from his purpose 
 with tears and groans, or the bowlings of a wild beast ; 
 so that at length Giulia Parnese, his new mistress, in 
 general known as Giulia Bella, unable to influence 
 him, was obliged to seek Lucrezia to overcome his 
 fatal resolution. Lucrezia left her retreat, where she 
 yet sorrowed over the death of the Duke of Gandia, to 
 endeavour to console her father. At her voice the door 
 opened, and then only the Cardinal of Segovia, who 
 
THE BORGIAS. 121 
 
 had been nearly a whole day kneeling upon the thresh" 
 old, imploring his Holiness to subdue his grief, was 
 enabled to enter with the attendants, who brought in 
 some wine and refreshments. 
 
 The Pope remained alone with Lucrezia three days 
 and nights; he then reappeared in public, calm, if not 
 resigned. Guicciardini assures us that his daughter 
 had clearly shown how dangerous it would be for him 
 to evince before the assassin, who was about to return, 
 the great aflfection which he bore toward the assassin's 
 victim. Cesare was still at Naples, remaining there as 
 well to give the father's grief time to abate as to con- 
 clude another negotiation with which he was charged, 
 which was no less a matter than proposals of marriage 
 between Lucrezia and Don Alfonso of Aragon, Duke of 
 Bicelli and Prince of Salerno, natural son of Alfonso 
 II., and brother of Donna Sancia. It is true that 
 Lucrezia was married to the Signor di Pesaro, but then 
 she was the daughter of a father upon whom Heaven 
 had bestowed a power to bind and to loose. This was 
 no obstacle ; when the betrothed was ready, the divorce 
 was at hand. Alexander was too good a politician to 
 allow his daughter to remain married to a son-in-law 
 no longer of service to his interests. 
 
 Toward the end of August, it was reported that the 
 legate, having terminated his embassy to the satisfaction 
 of all, was on the point of returning to Rome. He did 
 so about the 5th of September, nearly three months 
 after the death of the Duke of Gandia; and on the 
 morning of the sixth he went to the church Santa 
 Maria Novella, from the entrance to which, according 
 to custom, the cardinals and the ambassadors of Spain 
 and Venice attended him on horseback to the Vatican, 
 where he was received by the Pope, who, in compliance 
 
122 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 with the ceremony, gave him his henediction and 
 embraced him. Then, accompanied in the same manner 
 as upon his entrance, he was reconducted to his apart- 
 ments, whence, as soon as he was alone, he returned to 
 those of the Pope ; for in the consistory neither of them 
 had spoken, and the Pope and his son had much to con- 
 verse upon, — not, as might be supposed, relative to 
 the death of the Duke of Gandia, for his name was 
 never mentioned; and indeed from that hour he seemed 
 to have been tacitly forgotten, as though he had never 
 existed. It was rightly rumoured that Cesare was the 
 bearer of good news; King Frederic consented to the 
 proposed marriage; and consequently that of Sforza 
 and Lucrezia was annulled for a simulated cause. He 
 authorised also, the disinterment of the body of Djem, 
 which to the Pope was of the value of three hundred 
 thousand ducats. 
 
 Then, as Cesare had desired, it was he who succeeded 
 to the influence of the Duke of Gandia with the Pope ; 
 and of this the Eomans were soon aware. There was 
 an endless succession of fStes, balls, masquerades, and 
 hunting parties, where Cesare, who began to lay aside 
 his cardinal's robe, appeared in a French dress, followed 
 like a king by the retinue of the papal court; so that 
 the city was entirely given up to lewdness and debauch- 
 ery, and had never been, says the Cardinal of Viterbo, 
 even in the days of Nero or Heliogabalus, more dis- 
 posed to sedition, more devoted to luxury, or more 
 stained with murder. The number of robbers was so 
 great, and such was their audacity, that it was dangerous 
 to pass without the walls, unsafe to remain within 
 them. Neither house nor palace was a defence; justice 
 and law were fled. Gold, force, and pleasure governed 
 Rome. And now, by the just retribution of Heaven, 
 
Castle of San Angela. 
 
 Photo-Etching. — From a Photograph. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 123 
 
 Alexander and Cesare began to covet the fortunes of 
 those even who, through their simony, had raised them 
 to their present state. The first essay that they made 
 in this new mode of coining money was upon the 
 Cardinal of Cosenza. 
 
 A dispensation had been granted to the last heiress 
 to the throne of Portugal, a professed nun, by virtue of 
 which she had been married to a natural son of the late 
 king. This marriage was extremely prejudicial to the 
 interests of Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain ; they sent, 
 therefore, ambassadors to Alexander, to complain of this 
 proceeding, at the moment when the house of Aragon 
 was about to contract an alliance with the Holy See. 
 Alexander understood and resolved to rectify his error. 
 He in consequence denied all knowledge of the brief, 
 for the signature of which he had received 60,000 
 ducats, and accused the Bishop of Cosenza, secretary of 
 the apostolic briefs, of having granted a forged dispen- 
 sation. Upon this charge the archbishop was conveyed 
 to the castle of San Angelo, and proceedings against 
 him commenced. But as proof was not readily to be 
 obtained, particularly if the archbishop persisted in his 
 assertion that the dispensation was really the act of the 
 Pope, they resolved to lay a snare, of the success of 
 which there was no doubt. 
 
 One evening the archbishop saw the Cardinal Valen- 
 tino enter his prison, with that open, affable, and 
 sincere manner which he so well knew how to assume 
 when it suited him. The cardinal frankly stated the 
 embarrassments of the Pope, assured him that his Holi- 
 ness felt that he alone, as his best friend, could relieve 
 him from them. The archbishop replied that he was 
 willing to act as his Holiness desired. Then Cesare, 
 seating himself at the table upon which he had found 
 
124 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the captive leaning at his entrance, explained to him 
 the position in which the Holy See was placed ; it was 
 sufficiently embarrassing. At the moment of contract- 
 ing an alliance so important as that with the house of 
 Aragon, they could not avow that for a few miserable 
 ducats his Holiness had signed a dispensation which 
 conferred upon the husband and the wife all legitimate 
 rights to a crown upon which Ferdinand and Isabella 
 had no other claims but that of conquest. The arch- 
 bishop would then clearly understand what the Pope 
 required; it was the mere avowal that he had taken 
 upon himself to grant the dispensation. As the punish- 
 ment of such an error would devolve upon Alexander, 
 the archbishop might readily suppose that it would be 
 truly paternal; and moreover, as the judgment and the 
 recompense were in the same hands, while the judg- 
 ment would be that of a father the reward would be that 
 of a king. And this reward would be the appointment 
 to he jiresent, as legate, and with the rank of cardinal, 
 at the marriage of Lucrezia and Alfonso. 
 
 The archbishop was well aware of the characters of 
 the men with whom he had to deal; he knew they 
 shrunk from no measures to obtain their ends. He 
 knew they possessed a powder which had the taste and 
 smell of sugar, of which it was impossible to ascertain 
 the admixture in aliments, which caused death, slow 
 or quick according as they desired, and without the 
 slightest trace of its presence. He knew the secret of 
 the poisoned key which the Pope kept by him, and that 
 when his Holiness wished to rid himself of some one of 
 his familiars, he desired him to open a certain wardrobe; 
 but as the lock of this was difficult to turn, force was 
 requisite before the bolt yielded, so that a small point 
 in the handle of the key left a slight, but fatal, scratch 
 
THE BORGJAS. 125 
 
 upon the hand. He knew also that Cesare wore a ring, 
 composed of two lions' heads, the stone of which he 
 turned inward when he wished to press the hand of a 
 friend. It was then the lion's teeth heeame those of 
 a viper; and the friend died cursing the villany of 
 Borgia. Partly influenced hy his fears, partly by the 
 hope of recompense, the archbishop yielded, and Cesare 
 returned to the Vatican possessed of the precious paper 
 by which the Archbishop of Cosenza acknowledged he 
 alone was guilty of the dispensation granted to the 
 royal nun. 
 
 Two days after, by aid of the proofs which the arch- 
 bishop had himself supplied, the Pope, in presence of 
 the governor of Eome, the auditor of the apostolic 
 chamber, and other judicial officers, pronounced his 
 sentence, which condemned him to the loss of all his 
 possessions, the degradation from all ecclesiastical orders, 
 and the delivery over of his body to the civil power. 
 Soon after, the civil magistrate arrived at the prison to 
 fulfil his mission, accompanied by a registrar, two 
 attendants, and four guards. The sentence was read, 
 the attendants stripped the prisoner of his episcopal 
 robes , and clothed him in a robe of coarse cloth, drawers 
 of the same material, and heavy shoes. The guards 
 then put him into one of the deepest dungeons of the 
 castle of San Angelo, where he found for furniture a 
 crucifix of wood, a table, a chair, and a bed ; for recre- 
 ation a lamp, Bible, and breviary ; and for nourishment, 
 two pounds of bread, and a small cask of water, which 
 were to be renewed, as well as the oil for the lamp, 
 every three days. At the expiration of a year the arch- 
 bishop died of despair, after having gnawed his own 
 arms in his agony. 
 
 The same day that he was thus consigned to his living 
 
126 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 tomb, Cesare, who had so well managed this trans- 
 action, received from the Pope all the estates of the 
 archbishop. Moreover, his perfidy in this respect had 
 the desired effect: Isabella and Ferdinand could not 
 impute to Alexander the signature of the dispensation, 
 so that no further obstacle existed to the marriage of 
 Lucrezia and Alfonso, — a matter of great satisfaction to 
 the Pope, who thought now of increasing its importance 
 by another union between Cesare Borgia and Donna 
 Carlotta, daughter of Frederic. 
 
 Indeed, since the death of his brother, Cesare's actions 
 had always indicated his aversion for the ecclesiastical 
 profession, so that it caused no astonishment when, 
 Alexander having one morning assembled the consistory, 
 Cesare entered, and addressing the Pope, said that from 
 his earliest youth his inclinations had ever been toward 
 secular pursuits, and that it was only in obedience to 
 the absolute commands of his Holiness that he had 
 entered the Church, and had accepted the purple and 
 his other dignities. That feeling at his age it was as 
 unbecoming for him to yield to his desires as it was 
 impossible to resist them, he humbly entreated his 
 Holiness so to consider them that he might be permitted 
 to resign the habit and the ecclesiastical dignity, — 
 that he might re-enter the world and contract a lawful 
 marriage. 
 
 At the same time he besought the cardinals to inter- 
 cede for him with his Holiness, to whom he now 
 resigned, of his free will, the churches, abbeys, and 
 benefices, as well as all other dignities and gifts with 
 which the Pope had endowed him. The cardinals 
 remitted the decision to the Pope, and he, as a good 
 father, unwilling to constrain the inclinations of his 
 son, accepted his renunciation; Cesare therefore laid 
 
THE BORGIAS. 127 
 
 aside his mantle, with which, says Tommaso Tommasi, 
 he indeed had no af&nity except that it was the colour 
 of blood. 
 
 This renunciation was in fact urgent, and no time 
 was to be lost. Charles VI.II. on returning, heated and 
 fatigued from the chase, had been struck by apoplexy 
 soon after supper, and had died, leaving his throne to 
 Louis XII. Alexander, always on the watch for every 
 political change, saw at once the advantage he could 
 gain from this circumstance, and was prepared to profit 
 by any request the new king might be induced to prefer. 
 Louis XII. was, in fact, in want of his temporal aid 
 for his expedition against the duchy of Milan, and of 
 his spiritual aid to dissolve the marriage with Jeanne, 
 daughter of Louis XT., who was barren and horribly 
 deformed, and whom he had married solely from fear of 
 his father. Now, Alexander was willing to grant 
 these, and moreover to raise his friend, George 
 d'Amboise, to the cardinalship, if on his part the King 
 of France would use his influence with his sister Donna 
 Carlotta, to effect her marriage with his son. Negotia- 
 tions to this end were already much advanced on the 
 day when Cesare had laid aside the purple and assumed 
 the secular dress, and then it was that the Seigneur de 
 Villeneuve, envoy to King Louis XII., who was to 
 conduct Cesare into France, arrived at Home, and pre- 
 sented himself before the ex-cardinal, who during one 
 month received and entertained him with all that luxury 
 and flattering attention with which he so well could 
 flatter those whose services he required; after which 
 they departed, preceded by a courier of the Pope's, who 
 ordered the different towns and cities through which 
 they passed to receive them with every mark of honour 
 and respect. 
 
128 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 A similar order had been transmitted throughout 
 Erance, where they provided the illustrious travellers 
 with so numerous a guard, and the population so densely- 
 crowded to see them, that some of Cesare's suite wrote 
 to Eome that in Erance they had seen neither trees, 
 houses, nor walls, but only men, women, and the rays 
 of the sun. The king, pretending to go to the chase, 
 received his guest at two leagues from the city ; and as 
 he knew that Cesare liked the name of Valentino , which 
 he had borne as cardinal, and still retained with the 
 title of count, although he had resigned the archbishopric 
 from which it had been derived, he granted to him the 
 investiture of Valence, in Dauphiny, with the rank of 
 duke, and a pension of twenty thousand francs; and 
 after having made him this kingly present, and con- 
 versed with him for two hours, he departed, to allow 
 Cesare time to arrange the splendid procession he had 
 prepared for his entry into the city of Chinon. 
 
 His retinue consisted, first of twenty -four mules, 
 covered with red caparisons, ornamented with escutch- 
 eons, bearing the arms of the duke, and laden with 
 coffers and trunks, carved and incrusted with ivory and 
 silver; then came twenty-four more, also in yellow and 
 red caparisons, being the livery of the King of France; 
 then, after these, ten others, covered with yellow satin, 
 with red bars across it, and ten covered with striped 
 gold-brocade, of which one stripe was of raised gold- 
 thread, the other of smooth gold. Behind these came 
 sixteen war-horses, led by as many esquires on foot; 
 and these were followed by eighteen hunting-horses, 
 ridden by eighteen pages, all between fourteen and fif- 
 teen years of age, sixteen of whom were clothed in 
 crimson velvet, and two in fine gold-thread brocade. 
 To these succeeded six handsome mules, all harnessed 
 
THE BORGIAS. 129 
 
 in crimson velvet, led by six valets, clothed in velvet 
 of the same colour. The third group consisted of two 
 mules, entirely covered with cloth of gold, each carry- 
 ing two coffers, in which were the treasures of the duke, 
 the rich present he brought for his betrothed, and the 
 relics and bulls that his father had charged him to 
 deliver to his good friend Louis XII. They were fol- 
 lowed by twenty gentlemen of his suite, clothed in gold 
 and silver brocade, amongst whom were Paolo Giordano 
 Orsino and many barons and knights. Then came two 
 tambourines, a rebec, and four soldiers sounding silver 
 trumpets and clarions; and then, surrounded by twenty- 
 four lackeys , half of them in dresses of crimson velvet, 
 the others in yellow silk, Messire George d'Amboise 
 and the Due de Valentinois. who was mounted upon a 
 noble courser in a rich robe of red satin and of gold 
 brocade, embroidered with pearls and precious stones. 
 Around his cap was a double row of rubies, the size of 
 beans, which cast so rich a glow that they realised the 
 idea of those carbuncles we read of in the "Arabian 
 Nights ; " from his neck hung a collar valued at two 
 hundred thousand francs; nor was there a point, even 
 to his boots, that was not laced with gold twist, and 
 embroidered with pearls. His horse was covered with 
 a cuirass composed of leaves of gold, of the most admi- 
 rable workmanship, enriched by bouquets of pearls and 
 clusters of rubies. As a termination to this magnificent 
 cortege, behind the duke came twenty -four mules, in 
 rich red caparisons, with his arms; these bore the silver 
 plate, tents, and baggage. 
 
 But that which bestowed on the cavalcade the appear- 
 ance of exhaustless luxury was that all these mules and 
 horses were shod with shoes of gold , so badly fastened 
 that more than three fourths remained upon the road. — 
 
 VOL. I. — 9 
 
130 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 an extravagance for which Cesare was highly censured, 
 it being held an act of great indecorum to put beneath 
 the feet of horses a metal of which the crowns of kings 
 are made. Nevertheless, all this parade was thrown 
 away upon her for whom it had been displayed, for 
 when it was mentioned to Donna Carlotta that it was in 
 the hope of winning her aifections that Cesare had come 
 into France, she replied that she would never marry a 
 man who was not only a priest, but the son of a priest; 
 not only an assassin, but the assassin of his brother; 
 not only a man infamous by his birth, but still more 
 infamous by his principles and actions. 
 
 In default of the fair Aragonese, Cesare found another 
 princess, who accepted him; this was Mademoiselle 
 d'Albret, daughter of the King of Navarre, who, on 
 condition that the Pope would endow her with one 
 hundred thousand ducats, and make her brother a cardi- 
 nal , was married to him the 10th of May ; and on the 
 day of Pentecost ensuing the Due de Valentinois 
 received the order of St. Michael, first founded by 
 Louis XII. , and then the most valued decoration of the 
 kingdom. 
 
 The announcement of this marriage, which cemented 
 the alliance between Home and Louis XII. , was received 
 with great joy by the Pope, who celebrated it with 
 much pomp. On his part, Louis, besides the gratitude 
 he felt toward the Pope for having divorced him from 
 Jeanne of France, and authorised his marriage with 
 Anne of Brittany, considered it indispensably requisite 
 to have his Holiness for an ally, in furtherance of his 
 plans upon Italy. He promised, therefore, the Due de 
 Valentinois that as soon as he should possess Milan, 
 he would place three hundred lances at his command, 
 whom he might use for his own purposes and against 
 
THE BORGIAS. 131 
 
 any adversary, excepting always the allies of France; 
 and this conquest would be undertaken when Louis had 
 secured the support, or at least the neutrality of the 
 Venetians, to whom he had sent envoys, empowered to 
 promise in his name the cession of Cremona and of 
 Ghiera d'Adda, upon his becoming master of Lombardy. 
 Every circumstance was favourable at this period to 
 the foreign policy of Alexander VI. , when he was 
 obliged to withdraw his attention from Erance, and de- 
 vote it exclusively to Florence. It was on this account: 
 in Florence there was a man, without duchy, crown, or 
 sword; possessing no other power but his genius, no 
 other armour but his purity, no offensive weapon but 
 his eloquence, and who was becoming more dangerous 
 to him than could be all the kings, dukes, or princes of 
 the earth; and this man was the poor Dominican, 
 Girolamo Savonarola, — he who had refused absolution 
 to Lorenzo de' Medici, because he was unwilling to 
 restore liberty to his country. Girolamo Savonarola 
 had predicted the French invasion of Italy, and Charles 
 VIII. had conquered Naples ; he had predicted to that 
 monarch that, because he fulfilled not the liberative 
 mission intrusted to him by God, he should be stricken 
 by a great misfortune, and Charles VIII. had died; 
 finally, like the man who daily paced the holy city, 
 crying for eight days, " Woe to Jerusalem ! " and on 
 the ninth, "Woe unto myself!" — so had Savonarola 
 predicted his own destruction. But the Florentine 
 reformer was incapable of recoiling before his own 
 danger; nor was he less resolved upon attacking the 
 colossal abomination enthroned in the seat of St. Peter; 
 so that every fresh debauch, which had been shame- 
 lessly paraded in the face of the day, or covered in the 
 gloom of night, had been pointed at, and given up to 
 
132 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the execration of the people. Thus had he denounced 
 the illicit connexion of Alexander with the beauteous 
 Giulia Farnese ; thus had he pursued -with his maledic- 
 tions the murder of the Duke of Gandia, — that fratri- 
 cide caused by incestuous jealousy; and thus had he 
 shown to his countrymen the lot which awaited them 
 when the Borgias, lords of petty principalities, should 
 attempt the conquest of duchies and republics. 
 
 To Alexander, Savonarola was at once a spiritual and 
 temporal enemy , whom it was requisite to crush at any 
 cost. Great, horwever, as was the power of the Pope, 
 this was not easily to be effected. Savonarola, who 
 preached the austere principles of liberty, had formed, 
 even in rich and voluptuous Florence, a strong party, 
 known as the Piangioni, or Penitents, consisting of 
 citizens who, desirous at once of a reform in the Church 
 and the republic, accused the Medici of having enslaved 
 their country, and the Borgias of having shaken the 
 foundations of faith, and demanded that the republic 
 should revert to its popular principles, and religion to 
 her primitive simplicity. They had already made great 
 progress with regard to the first point ; for, despite two 
 powerful factions (that of the Arrabiati, or the " En- 
 raged," which consisted of the noblest and most wealthy 
 aristocratic youths of Florence, who desired an oli- 
 garchy, and that of the Bigi, or the "Grey," who 
 designed the recall of the Medici, and were so called 
 from their stealthy meetings), they had obtained by 
 degrees an amnesty for all past political offences, the 
 abolition of the Balia, an aristocratic privilege, the 
 establishment of a council of eighteen hundred citizens, 
 and the substitution of popular elections for nominations 
 by lot, or at the pleasure of the oligarchy. 
 
 The first measure Alexander employed against the 
 
THE BORGIAS. 133 
 
 increasing power of Savonarola was to declare him a 
 heretic, and as such to interdict him the pulpit; but the 
 monk eluded this by appointing Domenico Bonvicini 
 of Pescia, his disciple and friend, to preach in his 
 place. The only result was that the precepts of the 
 master were uttered by another; and the seed, though 
 scattered by a different hand, did not fall upon a less 
 fertile soil. Moreover, Savonarola (offering to the 
 future the example which Luther so advantageously 
 followed when, twenty -two years afterwards, he burnt 
 at Wittemberg the excommunication of Leo X.), weary 
 at last of silence, had declared, upon the authority of 
 Pope Pelagius, that an unjust excommunication was of 
 itself inefficacious, and that he against whom it had 
 been thus pronounced had not even need of absolution. 
 He therefore announced, on Christmas-day, A. d. 1697, 
 that the Lord had directed him to renounce the obedi- 
 ence of the servant, owing to the corruption of the 
 master; and had thereupon resumed his duties in the 
 cathedral church, with a success the greater because his 
 discourses had been interrupted, and an influence the 
 more formidable because it rested upon those sympathies 
 which an unjust persecution invariably excites amongst 
 the masses. Alexander upon this applied to Leonardo 
 de' Medici, vicar of the archbishopric of Florence, who, 
 in obedience to his orders, published a mandate forbid- 
 ding the faithful to follow the ministry of Savonarola. 
 By the terms of this rescript those who did so would 
 be denied both confession and the communion, should 
 they die, as infected with heresy; their bodies would 
 be drawn upon a hurdle, and be deprived of the rites 
 of sepulture. On the publication of this mandate, 
 Savonarola appealed from his superior to the people and 
 the senate, and by their united decision the episcopal 
 
134 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 vicar received, early in 1498, an order to leave Plorenee 
 within two hours. 
 
 This expulsion was a fresh triumph for Savonarola, 
 and wishing to avail himself of his increasing influence 
 as a means towards the improvement of public morals, 
 he resolved to change the last day of the carnival, a 
 day previously dedicated to earthly pleasures, into one 
 of religious contrition. In consequence, on Shrove 
 Tuesday a considerable number of children, having 
 assembled before the cathedral, divided themselves into 
 companies, and, traversing the city, went from house to 
 house, demanding the profane books, sensual paintings, 
 lutes, harps, cards, and dice, the cosmetics and per- 
 fumes, — in short, all those inventions and products of 
 a corrupt state of society by means of which Satan 
 weans the heart of man from the ordinances of God. 
 And the inhabitants of Florence, obeying this injunc- 
 tion, came to the Duomo, bearing all these instruments 
 of perdition, which soon formed an immense pile, to 
 which the youthful reformers set fire, singing at the 
 same time hymns and religious psalms. Many copies 
 of Boccaccio, of the " Morgante Maggiore," and several 
 pictures by Fra Bartolomeo were then destroyed; and 
 from that hour the genius of the artist was consecrated 
 entirely to the conception and expression of religious 
 subjects. A reform of this description was fearful for 
 Alexander. He resolved, therefore, to assault Savonarola 
 by the aid of the weapon with which he was attacked, 
 — by eloquence. He selected for this purpose a preacher 
 of acknowledged ability, named Fran5ois de Pouille, 
 and sent him to Florence, where he preached in the 
 church della Santa Croce, and accused Savonarola of 
 heresy and impiety. Moreover, at the same time he 
 declared by a new brief that if the senate did not 
 
THE BORGIAS. 135 
 
 silence the heresiarch, the property of the Elorentine 
 merchants situated within the papal territory would be 
 sequestered, and an interdict laid upon the republic, as 
 a declared enemy to the Church. 
 
 The senate, abandoned by France, and witnessing the 
 fearful increase of the Pope's temporal power, was now 
 obliged to give way, and intimated to Savonarola its 
 desire upon the point. Savonarola obeyed, and addressed 
 his audience for the last time in a discourse replete 
 with eloquence and dignified resolution. But his 
 retreat, instead of subduing, increased the excitement; 
 people spoke of his prophecies and their fulfilment; 
 and the disciples, more ardent than their master, 
 ascending from inspiration to miraculous powers, asserted 
 that Savonarola had offered to descend into the tombs 
 of the cathedral with his antagonist, and there, as a 
 solemn proof of the truth of his doctrine, to resuscitate 
 a dead body, promising to admit his errors if his antag- 
 onist performed the miracle. Rumours of this assertion 
 reached Frangois de Pouille, and he being one of those 
 impassioned men who reckon life as nothing when its 
 sacrifice can advance their cause, declared that he 
 acknowledged, in deep humility, that he was too miser- 
 able a sinner to suppose that God would accord him 
 such a measure of grace as to perform a miracle ; but he 
 offered another proof, — to enter with Savonarola into a 
 burning pile. He knew, he said, that he should perish, 
 but he felt that lie should die in vindicating the cause 
 of religion, since he was certain to destroy also the 
 tempter who had seduced the souls of so many, with his 
 own, to eternal damnation. 
 
 The proposal of Brother I'ran5ois was reported to 
 Savonarola, but as he had not originated the first de- 
 fiance, he hesitated upon accepting the second ; where- 
 
136 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 upon his disciple, Domenico Bonvicini, more confident 
 than his master as to the extent of his spiritual power, 
 declared that he was willing to accept the ordeal on his 
 own behalf, assured that God would work a miracle at 
 the intercession of his prophet. Immediately a rumour 
 was spread throughout the city that the challenge was 
 accepted, and the partisans of Savonarola, all zealots, 
 had not the slightest misgiving as to the triumph of 
 their cause. His enemies were overjoyed to witness 
 the self-sacrifice of a heretic; and the indifferent regarded 
 the trial proposed as a spectacle of the most exciting 
 interest. But this devotion of Brother Bonvicini of 
 Pescia did not answer the purpose of Brother Eran^ois 
 de Pouille; he was perfectly willing to die even in so 
 terrible a way, but upon condition that Savonarola 
 should die with him. And indeed, of what conse- 
 quence to him was the death of an obscure disciple like 
 Bonvicini ? It was the master it was requisite to 
 strike, — the high priest of the doctrine wliom he 
 desired to hurry with him in his fall. He declared 
 tlien that he would not ascend the pile unless with 
 Savonarola, and that, playing so fearful a game in his 
 own person, he never would agree that his adversary 
 might play it by proxy. Upon this an unexpected 
 event took place, for instead of Brother Frangois de 
 Pouille, who would not contend but with the master, 
 two Franciscans offered to combat with the disciple. 
 These were brothers Nicolas de Pilly and Andre 
 Rondinelli. Upon seeing this reinforcement brought 
 to their antagonists, the partisans of Savonarola pre- 
 sented themselves in crowds to dare the fiery trial. The 
 Franciscans on their part were unwilling to retreat, — 
 and thus the fervour of both was daily more excited. 
 Florence now had all the appearance of a great mad- 
 
THE BORGIAS. 137 
 
 house; every one wished for the pile, all desired to 
 enter into its flames ; the shout of defiance was no longer 
 limited to the men, hut was echoed by women and 
 children, vehemently demanding to imdergo the ordeal. 
 At last the senate, reserving the rights of the first com- 
 batants, ordered that this strange duel should take place 
 between only Bonvicini and Eondinelli, and ten citizens 
 were appointed to arrange the proceedings ; the day fixed 
 upon was the 7th April, 1498, and the place, the square 
 hefore the palace. 
 
 The citizens selected discharged their task very faith- 
 fully. A scaffold was erected on the place appointed; 
 it was five feet high, ten broad, and seventy-four feet 
 long. Through this, which was completely covered 
 with fagots and heather, and enclosed by rails made of 
 the driest wood they could procure, two paths, two feet 
 each in breadth, and seventy long, were constructed, the 
 entrance to both being in the Loggia de' Lanzi, and the 
 outlet at the opposite extremity. The Loggia was 
 divided by a partition; thus each champion had a kind 
 of apartment in which to prepare himself for action, as 
 at a theatre every actor has his dressing-room; but 
 licre the tragedy to be performed was no fiction. The 
 Franciscans arrived and occupied the place appointed 
 for them, without the slightest religious demonstration. 
 Not so Savonarola; he on the contrary appeared in 
 procession, clothed in his sacerdotal rohes, and holding 
 in his hands the host, exposed to the view of all, being 
 enclosed in a tabernacle of crystal. The hero of this 
 scene, Domenico of Pescia, followed with a crucifix; 
 next to him the Dominicans, each holding a red cross 
 in his hand, and singing psalms ; after these the prin- 
 cipal citizens of their party, carrying torches, so certain 
 of the triumph of their cause that they wished them- 
 
138 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 selves to set fire to the pile. As for the place itself — 
 it was a dense mass of human life, the overflowing of 
 which filled all the streets adjacent; at every door and 
 window heads were seen in regular gradation, one row 
 above another; every housetop was crowded; even the 
 roof of the Duomo and of the cupola was studded with 
 spectators. 
 
 However, as the trial drew nigh, the Franciscans 
 raised such difficulties that it was clear their champion's 
 resolution was failing. They first expressed their fear 
 that Bonvicini was an enchanter, and as such was pro- 
 vided with some secret talisman or charm, which would 
 protect him against the flames. They required, there- 
 fore, that he should be stripped of the clothes he then 
 wore in exchange for others to be examined by them. 
 To this Bonvicini made no opposition. Next, observ- 
 ing that Savonarola had placed in his hands the host, 
 they exclaimed it was an act of profanation to expose it 
 to the flames; that it was not included in the terms; 
 and that unless Bonvicini renounced this supernatural 
 aid, they would forego the trial. Savonarola replied 
 that it could be no matter of surprise that the champion 
 of the true faith, having placed his trust in God, should 
 carry in his hands that God from whom he expected 
 his salvation. This reply was unsatisfactory to the 
 Franciscans, who would not swerve from their demands. 
 Savonarola, on his side, was inflexible; thus four hours 
 passed away in fruitless discussion. 
 
 In the mean time the populace, crowded together 
 from the break of day, suffering from hunger and thirst, 
 betrayed their impatience in such murmurs that the 
 partisans of Savonarola, still confident of victory, 
 implored him to yield the points in dispute. Savona- 
 rola answered that were he himself about to undergo 
 
THE BORGIAS. 139 
 
 the ordeal, he would readily comply ; but since another 
 was to be exposed to danger, he could not be too cir- 
 cumspect. Two hours more were spent, his partisans 
 vainly endeavouring to overcome his refusal. At last, 
 as night was closing in, the murmurs for a long time 
 heard became so menacing that Bonvicini declared he 
 was ready to pass through the burning pile with only 
 the crucifix in his hands. This it was impossible to 
 refuse ; Eondinelli yielded, and it was announced that 
 the terms were agreed upon, and that the ordeal would 
 immediately take place. Upon this the excitement of 
 the populace died away ; but at the moment when the 
 torches were applied, and the smoke and flames of the 
 pile arose, a storm, which had long been gathering, 
 burst over Morenoe with such force that these were 
 instantly extinguished, and the pile made incapable of 
 being relit. The populace now considered themselves 
 tricked; enthusiasm was converted into contempt; and, 
 not knowing from which side the difficulties that 
 retarded the ordeal had proceeded, they threw the blame 
 upon both. 
 
 The senate, foreseeing the disorder that would ensue, 
 commanded the crowds to disperse; but no attention 
 was paid to this, and the people, notwithstanding the 
 rain, awaited the departure of the two champions. 
 Eondinelli was conducted home, pursued by hootings 
 and a shower of stones. Savonarola, through respect to 
 his sacerdotal robes and the host that he bore in his 
 hands, passed quietly through the crowds, — a miracle 
 hardly less remarkable than if he had traversed unhurt 
 the flames of the pile! But it was the sacred host 
 which had protected him whom they regarded from that 
 hour as a false prophet; and it was with great regret 
 that the mob, excited by the Arrabiati, who had long 
 
140 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 proclaimed Savonarola to be a liar and a hypocrite, had 
 allowed his return to the convent unmolested. On the 
 morrow, therefore, which was Palm Sunday, when he 
 appeared in the pulpit to explain his conduct, he was 
 unable, amid insults, hisses, and jeers, to obtain a 
 moment's hearing. The cries, at first of derision, soon 
 became menacing; and Savonarola, unable, owing to 
 the weakness of his voice, to control the tumult, quitted 
 the pulpit and retired into the sacristy, from which he 
 retreated to his convent, where he shut himself up in 
 his cell. At this instant a cry was heard, caught, and 
 repeated immediately by all around: "To St. Mark's! 
 To St. Mark's! " and this party of insurgents was 
 recruited as it traversed the streets by a vast multitude, 
 who rushed on, like a rising tide, to level the walls of 
 the convent. The gates, closed as they approached, 
 soon crashed beneath their resistless force; and Savona- 
 rola and his two adepts, Bonvicini and Marufii, arrested 
 in their cells, were conveyed to prison amid the insults 
 of the populace, who, ever in the extreme of enthusiasm 
 or hatred, would have torn them in pieces, and were 
 restrained only by the assurance that the magistracy 
 would compel the prisoners to undergo the ordeal 
 which they had avoided. Alexander VI. , although not 
 present, had not been, as may be supposed, an unin- 
 fluential party to this rapid and strange apostasy ; and 
 no sooner was he apprised of the arrest and fall of 
 Savonarola than he reclaimed him as a subject of 
 ecclesiastical authority. 
 
 But notwithstanding the indulgences with which the 
 Pope accompanied this demand, the senate insisted that 
 the trial of Savonarola should take place at Plorence; 
 but, to avoid all appearance of a desire to withdraw the 
 accused from the papal authority, requested the Pope to 
 
THE BORGIAS. 141 
 
 add two ecclesiastical judges to the Florentine tribunal. 
 Alexander, perceiving he could obtain no further con- 
 cession, consented, and deputed Joachimo Turriano of 
 Venice, and Prancesco Eamolini, — provided before- 
 hand with the decree that pronounced Savonarola and 
 his accomplices heretics, schismatics, persecutors of the 
 holy Church, and misleaders of the people. After all, 
 this apparent firmness of the Florentines in the main- 
 tenance of their rights was but an empty exhibition; 
 for in fact the tribunal was packed, and consisted of 
 eight of the most unscrupulous enemies of Savonarola. 
 His trial was preceded by torture; feeble in body, of 
 a nervous, irritable constitution, Savonarola had been 
 unable to endure the torture of the cord, and, overcome 
 by pain (at the moment when, hoisted up by the wrists, 
 the executioner had suddenly let him fall within two 
 feet of the ground), had confessed, in the hope of some 
 mitigation, that his prophecies were but simple con- 
 jectures. It is true that on re-entering his prison he 
 had protested against this confession, asserting that his 
 physical weakness and his inability to endure torture 
 had wrung it from him; but that the truth was, the 
 Lord had oftentimes appeared to him in his trances, and 
 had inspired what he had foretold. This led to a repe- 
 tition of the torture, during which Savonarola again 
 yielded, and admitted what he had retracted. 
 
 But hardly unbound, with every limb yet quivering 
 beneath the rack, he declared that his confession was 
 the work of his tormentors, and would recoil upon their 
 heads; but that, for himself, he again protested against 
 all past and future admissions on his part. For a third 
 time , torture wrung from him the same confession, and 
 repose brought its retractation; so that at last his judges, 
 after having condemned him and his disciples to the 
 
142 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 flames, decided that his confession should not be read 
 publicly at the pile, being assured that if it were, then 
 even as before he would deny it aloud, — a circumstance 
 which might be, considering the fickleness of public 
 opinion, productive of the very worst results. On the 
 23rd of May the funeral pile, so long promised, was 
 reconstructed before the palace ; and now the multitude 
 reassembled, confident that they would not be this time 
 deprived of a spectacle for which they had so long 
 yearned. Accordingly, toward eleven o'clock, Girolamo 
 Savonarola, Domenico Bonvicini , and Selvestre Maruifi 
 were brought to the place of execution ; and, being first 
 degraded from their rank by the ecclesiastical judges, 
 were bound in the centre of an immense pile of wood, 
 all three to the same stake. Then the Bishop Pagna- 
 noli declared to the condemned that he separated them 
 forever from the Church. " From the militant ! " 
 replied Savonarola, who from that hour, owing to his 
 martyrdom, entered into the glories of the church trium- 
 phant. This was all the victims uttered; for at that 
 moment an Arrabiato, a personal enemy of Savonarola, 
 breaking through the line formed by the guards around 
 the scaffold, snatched a torch from the hands of the 
 executioner, and set fire to the four corners of the pile. 
 When the smoke arose, Savonarola and his disciples 
 began to sing a psalm ; and still, when wrapped in the 
 devouring flames, the solemn strain was heard, which 
 ascended to open for their souls an entrance through the 
 gates of heaven. 
 
Portrait of Girolamo Savonarola. , 
 
 Photo-Etching. — From original Etching by William 
 Unger. 
 
h\ ISSPPROPHETy£'Ei'!'[Gi 1: S ■'■ 
 
THE BORGIAS. 143 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Thus freefl from tlie most dangerous enemy that as yet 
 had ever risen against him, Alexander VI. nevertheless 
 pursued the condemned with unrelenting vengeance even 
 after death. Yielding to his importunity, the senate 
 gave orders that the ashes of the prophet and of his dis- 
 ciples should be thrown into the Arno ; but some half- 
 burnt bones were notwithstanding treasured up by the 
 very soldiers whose duty it was to keep back the popu- 
 lace from the pile, and these sacred relics are exposed 
 even now, all blackened with the flames, to the adora- 
 tion of the faithful, who, if they regard Savonarola no 
 longer as a prophet, yet at least revere him as a martyr. 
 
 The French army in the mean time were preparing 
 once more to cross the Alps, under the command of 
 Jacques Trivulce. Louis XII. had proceeded as far as 
 Lyons to accompany Cesare Borgia, and Giuliano della 
 Eovere, — whom he had contrived to reconcile with 
 each other, — and at the beginning of May had pushed 
 forward his advanced guard, which the main body soon 
 followed. The king's forces consisted of sixteen hun- 
 dred lances, five thousand Swiss, four thousand Gascons, 
 and three thousand five hundred foot-soldiers, levies 
 raised from every district of France. On the 13th of 
 August the army, amounting to nearly fifteen thousand 
 men, which was to combine its movements with those 
 of the Venetians, arrived before the walls of Arezzo, 
 to which it immediately laid siege. The position of 
 
144 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Ludovico Sforza was hopeless; he now sirffered the 
 punishment of his imprudence in inviting the French 
 to invade Italy; every ally abandoned him, either on 
 account of their own more pressing interests, or intimi- 
 dated by the powerful enemy he had raised up. Maxi- 
 milian, who had promised to send him four hundred 
 lances, instead of renewing hostilities against Louis, 
 had concluded a treaty with the Circle of Suabia to 
 attack the Swiss, whom he had declared rebels to the 
 Empire. 
 
 The Florentines, who had promised to provide him 
 three hundred men-at-arms, and two thousand infantry, 
 on condition that he should aid them in the reduction 
 of Pisa, had retracted their engagement, at the threats of 
 Louis XII. , and had agreed to remain neutral. Lastly, 
 Frederic reserved his troops for his own dominions, for 
 he reasonably concluded that, Milan taken, he should 
 have again to defend Naples; and notwithstanding his 
 engagements, withheld all succour, both in men and 
 money. Ludovico Sforza, thus thrown entirely upon 
 his own resources, gave orders for the immediate fortifi- 
 cation of Annone, Novara, and Alexandria; sent Cajazzo 
 to that part of the Milanese which borders on the 
 States of Venice ; and collected on the Po the remainder 
 of his army. But all these measures were useless, 
 opposed to the impetuous attack of the French. In a 
 few days Arezzo, Annone, Novara, Voghiera, Castel- 
 nuovo, Ponte-Corona, Tortona, and Alexandria were 
 taken, and Trivulce advanced upon Milan. 
 
 Upon this, Ludovico, despairing of maintaining his 
 capital, resolved to retreat into Germany, with his 
 children, his brother Ascanio, and his treasures, which 
 in eight years had decreased from the value of fifteen 
 hundred thousand to two hundred thousand ducats. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 145 
 
 But before his departure he left the defence of the castle 
 of Milan to Bernardino da Corte. In vain did his 
 friends advise distrust of this man ; in vain did Ascanio 
 ofifer to defend the castle to the last extremity. Ludo- 
 vico was inflexible ; he quitted Milan on September 2, 
 leaving in the citadel three thousand foot-soldiers, and 
 a sufficiency of provisions, and supplies of arms and 
 money to maintain a siege of several months. Two 
 days after his departure the French entered Milan. 
 Ten days later, before a shot was fired, Bernardino da 
 Corte surrendered the citadel. Twenty-one days had 
 been sufficient to enable the French to take possession 
 of the towns, capital, citadel, and territories of their 
 opponent. 
 
 Louis received at Lyons the news of the success of 
 his troops, and departed instantly for Milan, where he 
 was welcomed with the sincerest demonstrations of joy. 
 All ranks of citizens came three miles beyond the walls 
 to welcome him; and forty children, clothed in gold- 
 brocade and silk, preceded him, singing hymns written 
 by poets of the day, which hailed the king as a liber- 
 ator, and the messenger of liberty. This welcome of 
 the Milanese was caused by a rumour which the par- 
 tisans of Louis XII. had industriously spread, that the 
 King of France was sufficiently wealthy to abolish all 
 taxes. These, indeed, he slightly reduced upon the 
 morning of his entry ; distinguished also by his favours 
 many Milanese gentlemen; and gave to Trivulce, as a 
 reward for this rapid and glorious campaign, the city of 
 Vigavano. 
 
 Meanwhile Cesare Borgia, who had followed Louis 
 XII., to win either the hound's fee or the hawk's 
 reward in Italy, no sooner saw the king's object accom- 
 plished than he reminded him of his promise, which, 
 
 VOL. I. — 10 
 
146 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 with his proverbial good faith, the king hastened to 
 fulfil. He placed, therefore, immediately at Cesare's 
 disposal three hundred lances, commanded by Yves 
 d'Alegre, and four thousand Swiss, to enable him to 
 subdue the vicars of the Church. We must explain 
 whom we mean by this expression. 
 
 During the long contests of the Guelphs and the 
 Ghibellines, and the exile of the Popes at Avignon, 
 the greater number of the cities and fortresses of the 
 Romagna had been conquered or usurped by a multitude 
 of petty tyrants, who, for the most part, had received 
 from the empire the investiture of their possessions; 
 but since the German influence had declined, and the 
 Popes had again made Rome the centre of the Christian 
 world, all these petty princes, deprived of their original 
 support, had rallied round the Holy See, and had again 
 received the investiture from the pontiffs, paying an 
 annual tenure-due, on account of which they enjoyed 
 the titles of dukes, counts, or lords, and the general 
 denomination of vicars of the Church. 
 
 Now it had been easy for Alexander, upon a rigid 
 examination of the acts and deeds of each of these 
 vassals, to pick out some slight infraction of the agree- 
 ment between them and their liege lord. He had, 
 therefore, miide a formal presentation of his grievances 
 before a tribunal specially appointed, and had obtained 
 a decision in his favour, by which the vicars of the 
 Church, as having broken their engagements, were 
 deprived of their domains, which henceforth reverted 
 to the Holy See ; but as the Pope had to do with men 
 against whom it was far more easy to pronounce judg- 
 ment than to execute it, he had appointed as his 
 captain-general, and with permission to reconquer their 
 territories on his own account, his son, the Due de 
 
THE BORGIAS. 147 
 
 Valentinois. The vicars-general were the Malatesti of 
 Rimini, the Sforzas of Pesaro, the Manfredi of Faenza, 
 the Riarii of Imola and Forti, the Varani of Camerino, 
 the Montefeltri of Urbino, and the Gaetani of Sermoneta. 
 The Due de Valentinois, for the purpose of still more 
 increasing the friendship which his relative and ally, 
 Louis XII. , evinced toward him, had remained at 
 Milan during the period of his residence in that city ; 
 but at the expiration of a month, the king having 
 departed for France, he gave orders to his troops to 
 await his arrival between Parma and Modena, and went 
 in the mean while to Rome to lay his future plans before 
 his father, and to receive his final instructions. 
 
 He found upon his arrival that his sister Lucrezia 
 had acquired a great accession of wealth and power dur- 
 ing his absence, not by means of her husband, Alfonso, 
 whose future prospects, owing to the successes of 
 Louis, were now most doubtful, — a circumstance which 
 had already caused a great coolness between him and 
 Alexander, — but from the liberality of her father, over 
 whom at this period she exercised an influence more 
 surprising than ever. In fact, Lucrezia Borgia of 
 Aragon had been declared possessor for life of Spoleto 
 and its duchy, with all the rights and emoluments there- 
 unto depending, — a dignity which had so increased 
 and ennobled her position that she now never appeared 
 in public but with a retinue of two hundred horses, 
 ridden by the most illustrious ladies and the noblest 
 cavaliers of Rome. Moreover, as the very peculiar 
 affection of her father for Lucrezia was no secret, the 
 greatest prelates of the Church, the habitues of the 
 Vatican, the intimates of his Holiness, had become her 
 humblest servants, insomuch that cardinals pressed 
 around to assist her when she dismounted from her 
 
148 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 horse, and archbisliops were jealous of the honour of 
 performing mass in her apartments. 
 
 It had been requisite, however, for Lucrezia to leave 
 Home to take possession of her new dominions; but as 
 the Pope could not long endure the absence of his 
 daughter, he resolved to add to his other donation the 
 city of Nepi, formerly bestowed for his vote upon 
 Ascanio Sforza. Ascanio had necessarily forfeited this 
 city by his adherence to his brother's fortunes; and as 
 the Pope was now proceeding thither, he invited his 
 daughter to accompany him, and be present at the festi- 
 vals consequent upon its reversion to the Holy See. 
 The eagerness which Lucrezia showed to comply with 
 her father's wishes was rewarded by an additional gift, 
 of the city and territory of Sermoneta, which belonged 
 to the Gaetini. It is true that at present his intention 
 in this respect was not divulged, inasmuch as it was 
 first requisite to get rid of the two possessors of the 
 territory; one being Giacomo Gaetano, the apostolic 
 prothonotary , the other, a youth of great expectations, 
 Prospero Gaetano ; but as they resided at Eome , utterly 
 unsuspicious, the first believing that by his position, 
 and the second, that by his courage, they were both 
 high in the estimation of his Holiness, the difficulty 
 in both cases appeared extremely trifling. In fact, as 
 soon as Alexander had returned to Rome, under pretext 
 of some recently discovered crime, Giacomo was arrested, 
 imprisoned in the castle of San Angelo, and there 
 poisoned; and Prospero Gaetano was strangled in his 
 own house. Owing to these deaths, — so sudden that 
 neither had been enabled to make a will, — the Pope 
 declared their property to devolve upon the apostolic 
 chamber, which sold them to Lucrezia for eighty thou- 
 sand crowns, a sum which the Pope returned to his 
 
THE BORGIAS. 149 
 
 daughter on the morning of its receipt. Thus, what- 
 ever his haste, Cesare found upon his arrival at Rome 
 that the Pope already had preceded him in the path of 
 conquest. 
 
 The position of another relative had also greatly 
 advanced during Cesare's residence in France; it was 
 that of Giovanni, nephew of the Pope, who to the hour 
 of his death had been one of the most faithful friends 
 of the Duke of Gandia. It was said, indeed, that ho 
 owed the favours which his Holiness heaped upon him, 
 less to the memory of the brother, than the protection 
 of the sister. There were two reasons which made 
 Giovanni particularly obnoxious to Cesare, and it was 
 whilst secretly resolving not to allow him a long pos- 
 session of the dignity, that the Due de Valentinois 
 heard that his cousin had just been appointed cardinal 
 a latere of all the Christian world, and had quitted 
 Eome to visit the papal States, with a suite of arch- 
 bishops, and other dignitaries and knights, that might 
 have done honour to the Pope. 
 
 Cesare remained but three days at Eome; then, col- 
 lecting all the forces his Holiness could spare, rejoined 
 his army at Euza, and marched immediately upon Imola, 
 which, abandoned by its owners, who had retired to 
 Porli , was obliged to yield ; whereupon Cesare advanced 
 on Porli. Here a determined resistance checked his 
 further progress, and this was owing to the courage and 
 noble bearing of a woman. Catherine Sforza, widow 
 of Girolamo, and mother of Ottaviano Eiario, had shut 
 herself up in this city, and had excited and maintained 
 the courage of the garrison, by placing herself and pos- 
 sessions under its protection. Cesare saw that nothing 
 was to be gained here by a coup de main,, but that he 
 must apply himself to a regularly conducted siege. He 
 
150 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 made, therefore, tlie necessary arrangements, and, erect- 
 ing a battery against the point where the walls appeared 
 to him most defenceless, he desired his artillery to 
 maintain a heavy fire until a breach was effected. 
 Returning from giving these orders, he found in his 
 camp his cousin Giovanni, who, proceeding from Ferrara 
 toward Eome, was unwilling to pass so near without 
 visiting the duke. Cesare welcomed him with the 
 sincerest joy, detained him for three days, and on the 
 fourth invited all his officers and courtiers to a fare- 
 well banquet, and, having delivered to his cousin some 
 despatches for the Pope, he took leave of him with all 
 those marks of aifection which had greeted his arrival. 
 The cardinal had started for Eome on quitting the 
 table, but on reaching Urbino, he found himself seized 
 by so strange and sudden an indisposition that he was 
 obliged to remain there. Rallying a little, however, 
 after a short time he resumed his journey; yet scarcely 
 had he arrived at Eoaca Gontrada when he was again so 
 ill that he resolved to proceed no farther. Feeling 
 himself again better and hearing that Forli was taken, 
 and Catherine Sforza a prisoner, he thought of return- 
 ing to felicitate Cesare upon his victory ; but at Fossom- 
 brone, although he had substituted a litter for his 
 carriage, he was constrained to stop for the third time, 
 and the last; three days afterward he was dead. His 
 body was conveyed to Eome, and buried without pomp 
 in the church of Santa Maria del Popolo, near the grave 
 of his friend, the Duke of Gandia, — and, notwithstand- 
 ing his high rank, without this event exciting more 
 attention than if the youthful cardinal had never 
 existed; for thus silently disappeared everything borne 
 away by the awful current of the ambition of that 
 terrible trinity, — A.lexander, Cesare, and Lncrezia. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 151 
 
 Almost at the same time Rome was terrified by 
 another murder. Don Giovanni Cerviglione, a gentle- 
 man by birth, and a brave soldier, captain of the men- 
 at-arms of his Holiness, on returning from supping with 
 Don Eliseo Pignatelli, a knight of St. John, was 
 attacked by sbirri, one of whom demanded his name, 
 and on his reply, seeing that he was not mistaken, 
 stabbed him instantly in his breast, whilst another, 
 with a back stroke of his sword, struck off his head, 
 which rolled at the feet of the body, even before it 
 fell. 
 
 The governor of Rome complained of this assassina- 
 tion to the Pope, but perceiving by the manner of his 
 Holiness that he had acted unwisely, and that silence 
 would have been more prudent, he stopped the inquiries 
 he had commenced, so that the murderers were never 
 arrested; only it was rumoured at Rome that during 
 Cesare's short residence there he had obtained an inter- 
 view with the wife of Cerviglione, who was a Borgia, 
 and that her husband being made acquainted with this 
 fact, was so excited as even to threaten both her and 
 her paramour; and that this had been reported to 
 Cesare, who, calling Michelotto to his aid, had from 
 Forli extended the arm which struck Cerviglione in the 
 midst of Rome. 
 
 Another death followed so unexpectedly and imme- 
 diately upon that of Don Cerviglione that rumour did 
 not fail to attribute it, if not to the same cause, at least 
 to the same source. Monsignor Agnelli, of Mantua, 
 Archbishop of Cosenza, clerk of the chamber, and vice- 
 legate of Viterbo, having fallen, without any known 
 reason, under the displeasure of his Holiness, was 
 poisoned at his own table, where, whilst death glided 
 secretly through his veins, he had spent a great portion 
 
152 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 of the night in animated conversation with three or four 
 guests, and retiring in full health, he was discovered in 
 the morning lying a corpse in his bed. His possessions 
 were subjected to a threefold division: his lands and 
 houses became the property of the Duo de Valentinois; 
 Francesco Borgia, son of Pope Calixtus III., obtained 
 his bishopric; and the place of clerk of the apostolic 
 chamber was sold for five thousand ducats to Ventura 
 Benassai, a Siennese merchant, who, upon payment of 
 the sum into the hands of Alexander, came on the same 
 day to reside at the Vatican. This last death decided 
 also a point upon which hitherto much uncertainty had 
 prevailed. The heirs of Monsiguor Agnelli not sub- 
 mitting to their disinheritance without a murmur, and 
 making some attempts to prevent it, Alexander pub- 
 lished a brief, depriving all cardinals and priests of 
 the right and power of bequest, and declaring also 
 that the possessions of the archbishop had now reverted 
 to the Holy See. 
 
 In the mean time Cesare's victories had received a 
 sudden check. By means of the two hundred thousand 
 ducats yet in his possession, Ludovico Sforza had raised 
 five thousand Burgundians and eight thousand Swiss 
 infantry, with which he had re-entered Lombardy. 
 Trivulce, therefore, had been compelled, in order to 
 oppose the enemy, to recall Yves d'Alegre, and the 
 troops that Louis had placed at the command of Cesare ; 
 and he consequently, leaving a part of the papal troops 
 in garrison at Imola and Forli, returned with the rest 
 to Eome. Alexander was desirous that his entry should 
 be considered as a triumph; and, hearing that the 
 quartermasters of the army were but a few miles from 
 the city, he sent messengers, inviting the several ambas- 
 sadors, princes, cardinals, prelates, Eoman barons, and 
 
THE BORCIAS. 153 
 
 municipal authorities, to proceed to meet the Due de 
 Valentinois, with all their retinue; and, as the baseness 
 of those who yield is always greater than the pride of 
 those who command, his orders were not only obeyed, 
 but exceeded. 
 
 The entry of Cesare took place the 26th of February, 
 1500; and although the jubilee was at its height, the 
 festival of the carnival commenced nevertheless on the 
 morrow, far more noisy and licentious than ever. Under 
 pretence of a masquerade , and as if determined to assume 
 the glory, the genius, and success of the great man 
 whose name he bore, he resolved to represent the 
 triumphs of Caesar in the Piazza Navone, which was 
 ordinarily reserved for the festivities of the carnival. 
 He set out, therefore, from this spot, and traversed the 
 streets of Eome with the costume and chariots of the 
 ancients, standing erect in his car, arrayed in the purple 
 of the emperors, his head crowned with the golden 
 laurel, and surrounded by lictors, soldiers, and standard- 
 bearers, whose flags bore this device, Aut Ccesar, aut 
 nihil ! 
 
 On the last Sunday in Lent the Pope conferred upon 
 him that dignity which had so long been the object of 
 his ambition. Cesare was declared general and gon- 
 falonier of the holy Church. Meanwhile Sforza had 
 crossed the Alps and the Lake of Como, amid the 
 acclamations of his former subjects, who no longer 
 cherished the enthusiasm which the Trench army and 
 the promises of Louis XII. had first excited. These 
 demonstrations were so very unequivocal that Trivulce, 
 considering that the position of the French garrison at 
 Milan was insecure, withdrew it toward Novara. The 
 result proved the correctness of his opinion ; for no 
 sooner did the Milanese perceive the preparations for 
 
154 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 his departure than a general excitement prevailed, and 
 the streets were filled with armed men. It was requi- 
 site to cut through the still increasing crowd, with 
 sword in hand and lance in rest; and hardly had the 
 French cleared the gates when the people inundated the 
 open country, following their retreat with hootings and 
 cries to the banks of the Tesino. 
 
 Trivulce left at Novara four hundred lances, and 
 more than three thousand Swiss, that Yves d'Alfegre 
 had brought to him from the Komagna, and advanced 
 with the remainder of his army to Mortara, where he 
 halted until he should be joined by the reinforcements 
 he had required from Louis. Ludovico Sforza and his 
 brother Ascanio in the mean while had entered Milan, 
 amid the acclamations of the city. No time was lost 
 by either; and, availing themselves of the present enthu- 
 siasm in their behalf, Ascanio undertook the siege of 
 the citadel, whilst Ludovico passed the Tesino, to 
 attack Novara. The besiegers and besieged were now 
 fellow-countrymen, for Yves d'Alegre had barely three 
 hundred French, and Ludovico five hundred Italians. 
 
 The truth was that for six years the Swiss had formed 
 the infantry of Europe, and, money in hand, all the 
 continental powers had raised their levies from their 
 mountains. The rude descendants of William Tell, thus 
 put up at auction by nations, and led by their various 
 engagements from their bleak and barren mountains to 
 the most beautiful and productive coimtries, even whilst 
 maintaining their ancient courage, had now lost, by con- 
 tact with foreigners, that firmness of principle which had 
 caused them to be so long cited as models of honour and 
 of good faith, and had degenerated into a kind of mer- 
 chandise, always ready to sell themselves, without the 
 slightest hesitation, to the highest bidder. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 155 
 
 The French were the first sufferers from a venality 
 which subsequently became so fatal to Ludovico Sforza. 
 For the Swiss garrison of Novara having contrived an 
 intercourse with those of their countrymen who formed 
 the outposts of the ducal army, and understanding that 
 the latter, who as yet were unacquainted with the 
 exhaustion of the finances of Ludovico, were better kept 
 and paid than themselves, engaged to surrender the city 
 and to enlist under the Milanese colours, on condition 
 of receiving the same pay. This offer, as may be sup- 
 posed, Ludovico readily accepted. Novara, the citadel 
 excepted, was given up, and the enemy was recruited 
 by three thousand men. But instead of immediately 
 marching with his reinforcement upon Mortara, Ludovico 
 committed the error of besieging the citadel of Novara. 
 The consequence was that Louis XII., apprised of the 
 dangers of his position, through the courier despatched 
 by Trivulce, had hastened the departure of the French 
 troops, and directed Cardinal d'Amboise to station him- 
 self at Asto, and hurry forward the recruitment of the 
 army. The cardinal found here already a division of 
 three thousand men ; La Tremouille brought him fifteen 
 hundred lances, and six thousand French infantry ; the 
 Bailli of Dijon arrived with six thousand Swiss, so that, 
 together with the troops Trivulce had under him at 
 Mortara, Louis XII. was at the head of the finest army 
 that a king of France had ever raised and sent into the 
 plains beyond the Alps. By a skilful march, before 
 even Ludovico was aware of its being assembled or of 
 its strength, this army threw itself suddenly between 
 Novara and Milan, cutting off from the duke all com- 
 munication with his capital ; and, in spite of his inferi- 
 ority, he was consequently obliged to prepare for au 
 immediate engagement. 
 
156 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 But whilst botli parties were preparing for a decisive 
 action, the Diet, informed that the hired troops of the 
 same cantons were about to slaughter each other, sent 
 an order to the Swiss serving in both armies to annul 
 their engagements and return home. Moreover, during 
 the two months' interval between the surrender of 
 Novara and the arrival of the Prench army before that 
 city, affairs had greatly changed, owing to the exhausted 
 state of Ludovico's finances. Fresh conferences had 
 taken place at the outposts, and this time, by favour of 
 the money sent by Louis XII., it was the Swiss in the 
 service of the King of France who found themselves 
 better kept and paid than their compatriots. These 
 honourable Helvetians, since they no longer fought for 
 liberty, knew too well the value of their blood to suffer 
 one drop to be shed, if that drop were not paid for in 
 gold; the result was, those who had betrayed Yves 
 d'Alfegre did not hesitate to deceive Ludovico, and 
 whilst the recruits raised by the Bailli of Dijon, not- 
 withstanding the injunctions of the Diet, remained 
 faithful to the French colours, the auxiliaries of 
 Ludovico declared that in fighting against them they 
 would be considered as guilty of rebellion, and would 
 expose themselves to a punishment which the imme- 
 diate receipt of their pay, now due, could alone induce 
 them to incur. 
 
 The duke, who had spent his very last ducat, and 
 was cut off from his capital, to which victory alone 
 could open him the way, promised not only the pay that 
 was due them, but twice its amount, if they would but join 
 him in a final effort. This promise was unfortunately 
 contingent upon the doubtful chances of a battle; the 
 Swiss declared they loved their countrymen too much 
 to think of shedding their blood without their pay, and 
 
THE BORGIAS. 157 
 
 revered the Diet too much to disobey its orders; and 
 that therefore Sforza must not longer rely upon them, 
 inasmuch as they had decided upon immediately return- 
 ing to their cantons. The duke, perceiving that every- 
 thing was lost, made a last appeal to their honour, and 
 besought them at least to insure his personal safety in 
 the capitulation they were about to make. But they 
 replied that such a clause would render the capitulation, 
 if not impossible, at least void of those advantages they 
 had a right to expect, and upon which they reckoned as 
 compensation for their arrears of pay. Yet as if they 
 were at last moved by his entreaties, they offered to 
 conceal him under their uniform and in their ranks. 
 
 This proposal was purposely illusory. Sforza was 
 old, and short of stature, and could not escape recogni- 
 tion amidst men the eldest of whom was not thirty, and 
 the shortest not less than five feet six inches high. But 
 it was his last resource, and without entirely rejecting 
 it he sought by its modification to use it with success. 
 He disguised himself, therefore, as a Franciscan friar, 
 and, mounted upon a horse of inferior quality, passed 
 himself off for their chaplain. Galeas de San Severino, 
 who commanded under him, and his two brothers, being 
 tall, assumed the uniform of the soldiers, hoping thus 
 to escape unobserved in the Swiss ranks. They had 
 hardly done so when the duke heard that a capitulation 
 had been signed between Trivulce and the Swiss; but 
 no stipulation being made for the safety of the duke, or 
 for that of his officers, they were obliged, as their only 
 chance of escape, to trust to their disguise. 
 
 The army began to defile, but the Swiss, after having 
 made money by their blood, now thought to sell their 
 honour. The French received information of the con- 
 cealment of Sforza and his generals in their ranks ; they 
 
158 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 were all recognised, and. Sforza was taken by La Trd- 
 mouille himself. It was said the price paid for this act 
 of treason was the city of Bellinzona, which belonged to 
 the French, but which the Swiss seized upon in their re- 
 treat, without any effort being made by Louis XII. for 
 its repossession. 
 
 When Ascanio Sforza, who had remained at Milan, 
 heard of this base desertion and betrayal of his brother, 
 he resolved upon flight before, through one of those 
 sudden changes so familiar to the populace, he should be 
 made prisoner by the former subjects of his brother, to 
 whom the idea might occur to purchase their pardon 
 at the price of his liberty. He escaped, therefore, by 
 night, accompanied by the principal chiefs of the Ghi- 
 belline nobility, and took the road to Plazenza, to regain 
 the kingdom of Naples. Upon reaching Eivolta, he re- 
 membered that a friend of his youth, and one upon whom 
 in the days of his power he had conferred much wealth, 
 resided there; and as both himself and his companions 
 were extremely fatigued, he resolved to solicit his hospi- 
 tality for the night. 
 
 Conrad received them with the liveliest joy, and placed 
 his house and servants at his disposal; but scarcely had 
 they retired to rest, when he sent a courier to Plazenza, 
 to acquaint Carlo Orsino, who commanded the Venetian 
 garrison, that he was ready to deliver up the Cardinal 
 Ascanio and the principal chiefs of the Milanese army. 
 Orsino, unwilling to trust another with a matter of so 
 much importance, set out immediately with twenty-five 
 horsemen, and, surrounding the house, entered the room 
 in which Ascanio and his companions slept, who, thus sur- 
 prised, surrendered themselves without resistance. They 
 were conducted to Venice, and subsequently delivered up 
 to Louis, who now detained as prisoners Ludovico and 
 
THE BORGIAS. 159 
 
 Ascanio; a legitimate nephew of the great Francesco 
 Sforza, whose name was' Hermes; two natural sons, 
 Alexander and Contino ; and lastly, Francesco, son of the 
 unfortunate Giovanni Galeasso, who had been poisoned 
 by his uncle. 
 
 Louis XII., resolved to crush the family at one blow, 
 forced Francesco to enter into a convent, threw Contino, 
 Alexander, and Hermes into prison, confined Ascanio in 
 the tower of Bourges, and lastly, after transferring the 
 unhappy Ludovico from the fortress of Pierre Encise to 
 the Lys St. George, he consigned him definitively to the 
 castle of Loches, where he died after a captivity of ten 
 years, regretting to the last hour of his life the moment 
 when, misled by his ambition, he had paved the way for 
 the invasion of Italy by the French. 
 
 The news of the fall of Ludovico and of his family 
 caused the greatest joy at Rome, for, consolidating the 
 power of the French in the Milanese, it established also 
 that of the Holy See in the Eomagna, since no further ob- 
 stacles existed to the conquests meditated by Cesare. The 
 couriers, therefore, who brought the news were liberally 
 recompensed ; and soon the cries of " France, France ! " 
 and of " Orso, Orso ! " on behalf of France and the 
 Orsini, were echoed in the streets, which were illumi- 
 nated as though Constantinople or Jerusalem had been 
 taken. 
 
 Money alone was now wanting to insure the success of 
 the vast projects that the Pope and his son based upon 
 the friendship and alliance of Louis XII. ; but Alex- 
 ander was not a man to endure any such distress. It 
 is true the profits arising from the sale of benefices were 
 exhausted, that the ordinary and extraordinary imposts 
 of the year were already anticipated, that the inheritance 
 of the cardinals and prelates was now almost unproduc- 
 
160 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 tive, inasmuch as the richest had been poisoned ; other 
 resources remained, not the less ef6.cacious because less 
 employed. The first was to circulate throughout Chris- 
 tendom the rumour of an approaching invasion by the 
 Turks ; that the Pope was well aware that summer would 
 not pass away before Bajazet had disembarked two power- 
 ful armies, one in the Eomagna, the other in Calabria. 
 Thereupon he published two buUs : one, to raise a tenth 
 upon all ecclesiastical revenues; the other, to extort a 
 similar sum from the Jews; and these missives con- 
 tained the severest excommunications against all those 
 who refused to submit, or attempted the slightest op- 
 position. The second was the sale of indulgences, — a 
 resource hitherto unknown. The deprivation of these 
 indulgences had weighed heavily on those whose health 
 or affairs had precluded their arrival at Eome during 
 the jubilee ; but by this gracious expedient of the Pope 
 the journey was now unnecessary, and for the third of the 
 sum it had previously cost, their sins were as fully and 
 satisfactorily remitted as though the faithful had com- 
 plied with all the conditions of their pilgrimage. 
 
 Por the collection of this tax, if it might be so called, 
 an army of collectors was established, of which Ludovico 
 de la Torre was appointed chief. The sums thus raised 
 and paid to Alexander were incalculable ; some idea may 
 be formed of them by the fact that the territory of 
 Venice alone paid seven hundred and ninety-nine thou- 
 sand pounds' weight of gold. But as the Turks made 
 actually some warlike demonstrations in the direction of 
 Hungary, which the Venetians feared might be the pre- 
 cursor of an attack on them, they sent to demand succour 
 from the Pope; whereupon his Holiness decreed that 
 throughout the papal States an " Ave Maria " should be 
 chanted at midnight, to pray that God would defend the 
 
THE BORGIAS. 161 
 
 republic from the threatened danger. This was the ex- 
 tent of the aid the Venetians obtained in exchange for 
 the seven hundred and ninety-nine thousand pounds' 
 weight of gold they had transmitted to the Holy See. 
 
 But, as if the crimes of Alexander had moved Divine 
 Justice to warn him from the evil of his way, upon the 
 vigil of St. Peter, as he approached the Campanile, pro- 
 ceeding to the place where the papal benediction is be- 
 stowed, an enormous bar of iron fell suddenly from it at 
 his feet; and, as if one warning were not sufficient, on 
 the morrow, being St. Peter's Day, whilst the Pope was 
 in one of his usual apartments, with Cardinal Capuano 
 and Monsignor Poto, he saw through the open windows 
 so dense a mass of clouds gathering around that, antici- 
 pating a tempest, he ordered the cardinal to let them 
 instantly be closed. He was scarcely obeyed when a 
 furious blast of wind struck the highest chimney of the 
 Vatican, which fell upon the roof, and, breaking through 
 this, carried with it a portion of the upper floor into the 
 chamber where the Pope and his attendants were. Upon 
 this fall, which shook the palace, and the noise they 
 heard behind them, the Cardinal Capuano and Monsignor 
 Poto turned round, and, seeing the apartment choked 
 with dust and covered with fragments of the building, 
 rushed to the windows, exclaiming, "The Pope is dead! 
 the Pope is dead! " whereupon the guards entered, and 
 found three men stretched among the rubbish, one dead, 
 the others dying. They were a Siennese gentleman and 
 two commensals of the Vatican, who, passing through 
 the upper apartments, had been struck down by the 
 falling bricks around them. 
 
 Meanwhile all search for Alexander was fruitless, and, 
 since there was no reply to the frequent shouts of his 
 name, the belief of his death was confirmed, and was sooa 
 
 VOL. I. — 11 
 
162 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 circulated througliout the city. But after an interval 
 they heard his groans, and he was then found recovering 
 from a swoon, still confused by the blow, and wounded, 
 though not dangerously, in many parts of his body. 
 He had been saved by a kind of miracle : the beam had 
 been broken in the middle, and had left each of its 
 extremities in the side walls; one of these had thus 
 formed a roof above the papal throne, so that his Holi- 
 ness, who was seated thereon at the instant of its fall, 
 had been protected by the vault it formed. The two 
 contradictory statements of the sudden death and the 
 miraculous preservation of the Pope were soon dissemi- 
 nated throughout Rome; and the Due de Valentinois, 
 alarmed by the effect that the slightest accident to his 
 father would exercise upon his interests, hastened to the 
 Vatican, unable to feel reassured of his safety but by his 
 presence. 
 
 As for Alexander, he wished by a public act to render 
 thanks to Heaven for the protection it had accorded, and 
 immediately proceeded, accompanied by a numerous 
 escort, to the church of Santa Maria del Popolo, in 
 which were interred the bodies of the Duke of Gandia 
 and Giovanni Borgia, — whether led so to do by a 
 momentary gleam of devotion stiU lingering in his heart, 
 or drawn thither by the impious love which he felt for 
 his former mistress, Vanozza, who, beneath the form of 
 the Madonna, was exposed to the veneration of the 
 faithful in a chapel to the left of the high altar. On 
 reaching the altar his Holiness presented to the church a 
 magnificent chalice, within which were three hundred 
 gold crowns, which the Cardinal of Sienna, to the great 
 gratification of the papal vanity, exposed to the view of 
 all in a patina of silver. 
 
 Before leaving Eome to undertake the conquest of the 
 
THE BORGIAS. 163 
 
 Eomagna, the Due de Valentinois had reflected how 
 useless hoth to him and to his father had now become the 
 marriage once so earnestly desired between Lucrezia and 
 Alfonso. Nor was this all. The present repose of 
 Louis XII. in Lombardy was evidently no more than a 
 halt, and Milan a mere stage on the road to Naples. 
 Moreover, this union might possibly become a source of 
 distrust to Louis, inasmuch as it made the nephew of his 
 enemy the son-in-law of his ally. But, Alfonso dead, 
 Lucrezia might remarry some powerful Seigneur de la 
 Marche, du Ferrarais, or de la Bresse, who might aid 
 her brother in the conquest of the Eomagna. 
 
 Alfonso became, therefore, not only dangerous as a 
 connexion, but useless as an ally, which latter to a 
 Borgia was a crime; his death was decided upon. In 
 the mean time the husband of Lucrezia, who had been 
 long aware of the risk he incurred by residing near his 
 fearful father-in-law, had retired to Naples. But as, 
 with their habitual dissimulation, neither Alexander nor 
 Cfsare had in any way justified his suspicions, these had 
 gradually abated, when he received an invitation from 
 the Pope and his son to take part in a grand bull-fight 
 after the Spanish mode, to be given upon the occasion 
 of the duke's departure. In the precarious situation of 
 the house of Naples, so lately ejected, so recently re- 
 stored to the throne, it was the policy of Alfonso to give 
 Alexander no excuse for enmity; he was anxious on this 
 account not to refuse without an adequate motive, and 
 therefore set out for Rome. But as the Pope and Cesare 
 did not consider it desirable to consult Lucrezia in this 
 affair, inasmuch as upon several occasions she had 
 exhibited a ridiculous attachment to her husband, she 
 was allowed to remain undisturbed in her government at 
 Spoleto. Alfonso was received at Rome with every 
 
164 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 demonstration of sincere friendship, and was lodged at 
 the Vatican in the apartments he had before occupied 
 with Lucrezia. The lists were prepared in the Piazza di 
 San Pietro, the streets of which had heen barricaded, 
 whilst the adjoining houses were fitted up with galleries 
 for the spectators, the Pope and his court occupying the 
 balconies of the Vatican. 
 
 The festival began with hired bull-fighters. When 
 they had exhibited their strength and skiU, Alfonso of 
 Aragon and Cesare Borgia entered the arena, and as a 
 proof of the good feeling that existed between them, it 
 was agreed that the bull which pursued Cesare should be 
 slain by Alfonso, and that the one which pursued Alfonso 
 should be slaiu by Cesare. Cesare entered the lists on 
 horseback alone, Alfonso retiring, but ready to rejoin 
 him when he should judge his presence to be required. 
 At the same time the bull was let in, and instantly 
 covered with darts and arrows, to which some fireworks 
 were attached; and these exploding irritated the animal 
 to such a degree that, after rolling on the earth, it arose 
 maddened, and rushed instantly at Cesare, still awaiting 
 it in the arena. It was then that Cesare displayed that 
 consummate skill which made him one of the most 
 accomplished horsemen of the period. Nevertheless his 
 skill had been of no avail against such an adversary in so 
 limited a space, where his only resource was flight, if, at 
 the moment when the animal gained upon him, Alfonso 
 had not suddenly appeared, shaking in his left hand a 
 red cloak, and holding in his right a long and thin 
 Aragonese sword. 
 
 It was time to act; the bull was but a few steps from 
 Cesare, and his danger seemed so imminent that a cry of 
 fear was heard from one of the windows ; but upon see- 
 ing Alfonso the enraged beast suddenly stopped, and 
 
THE BORGIAS. 165 
 
 after throwing up the dust with its hiad feet, pawing the 
 earth, and lashing its sides with its tail, with bloodshot 
 eyes, and tearing up the earth with its horns, it rushed 
 upon him. Alfonso quietly awaited its approach, and 
 then, when the animal was withiQ three steps of him, 
 sprang quickly on one side, holding toward it his sword, 
 which was suddenly slieathed up to the hilt; and imme- 
 diately the bull, arrested in full career, remained for a 
 moment motionless, yet quivering ia every fibre, then 
 fell upon its knees, breathed heavily, and lay dead upon 
 the spot where it had been struck. So ably and rapidly 
 was the blow struck that applause burst from all around; 
 as for Cesare, he had remained unconcerned on horse- 
 back, endeavouring only to discover from whom the cry 
 had proceeded which betrayed so marked an interest in 
 him ; and he soon recognised one of the ladies of honour 
 of Elizabeth, Duchess of Urbino, then betrothed to 
 Giovanni Baptisti Carracciolo, captain-general of the 
 Venetian republic. 
 
 Another bull was now let in, and excited in the same 
 manner, with darts and lighted arrows, and like the 
 former, upon seeing the horseman, rushed instantly upon 
 him. An extraordinary race now commenced, during 
 which so rapid were the movements, that it was impos- 
 sible to know whether the horse pursued the bull, or the 
 bull the horse ; nevertheless, after a few rounds, fleet as 
 was the Andalusian steed which bore Alfonso, the bull 
 began to gain upon him, so that soon there was scarce 
 the distance of two lances between them, when Cesare 
 in his turn suddenly appeared, armed with a two-handed 
 sword, and at the instant when the bull, now pressing 
 upon the horse's flank, rushed past him, he raised his 
 sword and smote with such force that the blade, gleam- 
 ing around like a flash of lightning, at one blow struck 
 
166 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 off its head, whilst the body, still borne onwards by ita 
 impetus, fell ten steps from him in the lists. This was 
 so unexpected, and had been executed with so much 
 skill, that it was witnessed and greeted with applause 
 bordering on frenzy. But Cesare, as if amid his triumph 
 he was mindful only of the cry caused by the danger to 
 which he had been first exposed, lifted up the head of 
 the bull, and giving it to one of his squires, desired him, 
 as an act of homage upon his part, to lay it at the feet of 
 the beautiful Venetian who had expressed so lively an 
 interest in his behalf. 
 
 This festival, besides the triumph that it had won 
 for the combatants, had another object; it was to show 
 the intimate feeling which existed between them, so that, 
 whatever might occur to Alfonso, no one could accuse 
 Cesare, — nor could Alfonso be accused of any evil 
 accruing to Cesare. 
 
 There was a grand supper at the Vatican; Alfonso 
 was elegantly dressed, and toward ten in the evening 
 quitted the detached wing in which he resided, to enter 
 that in which the Pope's apartments were situated ; but 
 the door dividing the two courts was closed, and re- 
 mained unopened to his repeated knookings. He then 
 thought of going round by the Piazza de San Pietro; 
 and, unattended, proceeded along the dark streets which 
 led to the staircase ascending to it. Hardly had his foot 
 rested on the first steps, when he was attacked by a troop 
 of armed men. Before he could draw his sword, he had 
 received five wounds in different parts of his body, and 
 fallen senseless. His assassins, supposing him to be 
 dead, immediately reascended the steps, and finding in 
 the Piazza de San Pietro a guard of forty horsemen who 
 awaited them, quietly left the city under their protec- 
 tion, by the gate of Portese. Alfonso was found by 
 
THE BORGIAS. 167 
 
 some passers-by, who bore him in a dying state to his 
 apartments in the Torre-Nova. 
 
 Upon receiving information of this, the Pope and 
 Cesare appeared so afflicted that they quitted their 
 guests, and repaired immediately to Alfonso, as if to 
 assure themselves whether his wounds were mortal or 
 not; and the following morning, to avert any suspicions 
 that might incline toward them, they arrested Francesco 
 Gazella, his maternal uncle, who had accompanied his 
 nephew to Eome. Convicted by suborned testimony, 
 Gazella was beheaded. But the work had been only 
 half performed ; however diverted, there was yet such a 
 sufficiency of suspicion that no one dared to name the 
 real assassins; and Alfonso was not dead, for, owing to 
 the excellence of his constitution and the skill of his 
 attendants, who, believing the grief of the Pope and of 
 his son to be sincere, had exerted their utmost skill in 
 his favour, he was now advancing toward convalescence. 
 Moreover, Lucrezia, hearing of the attack upon her hus- 
 band, had set out to join him, with the intention of 
 nursing him herself. There was therefore no time to 
 lose, — Cesare desired the attendance of Michelotto. 
 " The same night, " says Burchard, " Don Alfonso, who 
 was not willing to die of his wounds, was strangled in 
 his bed. " The following morning he was buried, if not 
 with the pomp due to his rank, yet with becoming re- 
 spect. The same evening Lucrezia arrived; she too 
 well knew the character both of her father and brother 
 to be deceived by them; and although the Due de 
 Valentinois, on the death of Don Alfonso, arrested not 
 only his physicians, but a poor valet, she nevertheless 
 saw whence the blow proceeded, and, fearful that the 
 grief she now really felt might deprive her of the con- 
 fidence of her relatives, she retired to Nepi with her 
 
168 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 household, to pass the period of her mourning in that 
 city. 
 
 The affairs of the family being thus arranged, and, 
 Lucrezia being once more a widow, and consequently in 
 a position to further the new political alliances of the 
 Pope, Cesare remained at Eome only for the purpose of 
 receiving the ambassadors of France and Venice. But 
 as their arrival was slightly delayed, and as the expense 
 of the last festivals had in some degree depleted the 
 papal treasury, Alexander created another batch of twelve 
 cardinals, whose promotion had a twofold result: first, 
 that of obtaining six hundred thousand ducats; and sec- 
 ondly, that of securing him a decided majority in the 
 Sacred College. The ambassadors at last arrived; the 
 first, M. de Villeneuve, who had formerly come in the 
 name of the King of Prance to visit Cesare, on the point 
 of entering into Rome was accosted by a man in a mask, 
 who expressed to him the pleasure he felt upon his 
 arrival. This man was Cesare, who, unwilling to be 
 recognised, after a short conference withdrew, but with- 
 out removing his disguise. M. de Villeneuve entered 
 the city behind him, and found at the gate Del Popolo 
 the envoys of the different continental powers, even those 
 of Spain and Naples, whose sovereigns, it is true, were 
 not yet at open war with Prance, although commencing 
 the withdrawal of their friendly relations with that court. 
 Afraid of being compromised, the latter restricted them- 
 selves to merely saying to their colleague of Prance, 
 " You are welcome, monsieur. " The master of cere- 
 monies, surprised at so concise a compliment, asked them 
 whether they had anything further to say; and, upon 
 receiving a negative, M. de Villeneuve turned his back 
 upon them, adding that to those who had nothing to say, 
 no answer was due ; then placing himself with the Arch- 
 
THE BORGIAS. 169 
 
 bishop of Eeggio, the governor of Eome, and the Arch- 
 bishop of Ragusa, he proceeded to the palace of the Holy 
 Apostles, which had been prepared for his reception. 
 
 A few days afterward Maria Georgi, ambassador ex- 
 traordinary from the Venetian republic, arrived. He 
 was charged not only to regulate with the Pope the im- 
 mediate interests of the State, but also to bear to Alex- 
 ander and Cesare the title and inscription of their names 
 as noble Venetians, — a favour they had long earnestly 
 desired, not for its mere honour, but for the real influ- 
 ence it could secure them. The Pope next proceeded to 
 bestow the hats upon those to whom he had sold the 
 cardinalship, after which, as there was no other business 
 to delay the departure of the Due de Valentinois, he 
 remained only to complete a loan with a rich banker 
 named Augustino Chigi, brother of Lorenzo, who had 
 been killed by the fall of the chimney at the Vatican, 
 and then departed for the Romagna, accompanied by 
 Vitellozzo Vitelli, by Giovanni Paolo Baglioni, and by 
 Giacomo de Santa Croce, then his friends, and shortly 
 afterward his victims. His first enterprise was against 
 Pesaro, — a piece of brotherly attention of which Gio- 
 vanni Sforza well understood the consequences; for, 
 instead of attempting to defend his territories by arms, 
 or to contend for them by negotiations, and unwilling to 
 expose the beautiful country he had so long governed to 
 the vengeance of an irritated enemy, he committed him- 
 self to the affectionate fidelity of his subjects, in the hope 
 of some future change of fortune, and fled to Dalmatia. 
 Malatesta of Rimini did the same, and Cesare, leaving 
 garrisons in these cities, had advanced toward Faenza. 
 This city was then under the government of Astor 
 Manfredi, a brave youth of eighteen, who, although 
 abandoned by the BentivogU, by his relatives, and by hia 
 
170 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 allies, the Venetians and Florentines, resolved, knowing 
 the affection of his subjects for his family, to defend him- 
 self to the last. Upon hearing that the duke was 
 advancing against him, he hastily assembled all those of 
 his vassals who were capable of bearing arms, and the 
 few soldiers who were willing to enlist in his service, 
 and, having collected provision and military stores, he 
 shut himself up with his small force in the city. These 
 preparations caused no disquiet to Cesare ; he had an ex- 
 cellent army, composed of the best troops of France and 
 Italy, who, excluding himself, reckoned amongst their 
 chiefs Paolo and Giulio Orsini, Vitellozzo Vitelli, and 
 Paolo Baglioni, the best captains of the day. Having 
 surveyed the place, he began the siege by encamping 
 between the two rivers, the Anima and the Marziano, 
 placing his artillery upon the side which looks toward 
 Forli, where the besieged had also erected a heavy 
 battery. 
 
 After a few days, the breach being practicable, the 
 duke directed an attack to be made, which as an example 
 to his soldiers he himself commanded. But, notwith- 
 standing his courage and that of his captains, Astor 
 Manfredi made so stout a defence that the besiegers were 
 repulsed with great loss, leaving in the ditches of the 
 city Honorio Savello, one of their best chiefs. In spite 
 of the courage and the devotion of its defenders, Faenza 
 could not have long withstood the attacks of so powerful 
 an army, had not winter advanced to its relief. Over- 
 taken by the severity of the season, without shelter for 
 his troops, and unable even to procure wood for fire, as 
 the peasantry had laid waste the country, the duke was 
 obliged to raise the siege, and to quarter his army in the 
 adjacent cities, ready to open the campaign upon the 
 return of spring ; for Cesare, who could not endure that 
 
THE BORGIAS. 171 
 
 a small city, accustomed to a long peace, governed by a 
 minor, and deprived of every ally, should thus check his 
 progress, had sworn to take merciless revenge for this 
 delay. He divided, therefore, his army into three divi- 
 sions, — the first being quartered at Imola, the second at 
 Forli, posting himself with the third at Cesena, which, 
 from a third-rate city, found itself suddenly changed into 
 one of luxury and splendour. Indeed, to the active 
 mind of Cesare, wars or festivals were always requisite ; 
 the war being suspended, the festivals commenced, 
 sumptuous and exciting as he could make them ; the days 
 were passed in games and cavalcades, the nights in balls 
 and debauchery, for the most beautiful women of the 
 Eomagna had arrived to form a seraglio for the victor 
 that the Sultan of Egypt or of Constantinople might have 
 envied. 
 
172 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER ATEI. 
 
 It was in one of those excursions which, surrounded hy 
 his courtiers and titled courtesans, the Due de Valentinois 
 made in the environs of the city, that he saw advancing 
 from the road to Eimini a retinue sufficiently numerous 
 to induce him to believe that it accompanied some person 
 of rank. And, soon remarking that this was a lady, he 
 advanced, and recognised in her the attendant of the 
 Duchess of TJrbino, who had attracted his attention by 
 the cry she had uttered when believing him to be endan- 
 gered during the bull-fight. She was then betrothed to 
 Giovanni Carracciolo, general of the Venetians; and 
 Elizabeth of Gonzaga, her patroness and godmother, had 
 now sent her, under a becoming escort, to Venice, where 
 the marriage was to be solemnised. At Rome, Cesare had 
 been much struck by her extreme beauty, which feeling 
 this interview served but to increase, and from that mo- 
 ment he resolved to possess her, reproaching himself for 
 the indifference he had manifested. In consequence he 
 addressed her as an old acquaintance, inquired if it were 
 her intention to remain any time at Cessna, and under- 
 stood from her that she should only pass through, as, 
 being impatiently expected, she allowed as few delays 
 as possible, and was anxious to reach Eorli, where she 
 should sleep that night. This was all Cesare wished to 
 know : he called Michelotto, and whispered some words 
 to him unheard by anybody else. The cortege proceeded 
 on its way as the fair betrothed had stated, making but a 
 
THE BORGIAS. 173 
 
 momentary halt at Cesena; and although the day was 
 far advanced, departed immediately for Forli ; but hardly 
 had it advanced a mUe, when it was surrounded by a 
 troop of horsemen from Cesena. Although inferior in 
 numbers, the soldiers of the escort nevertheless defended 
 their charge ; but some being cut down, others fled, and 
 as the lady meanwhile had descended from, her litter and 
 attempted to escape, the leader of the horsemen seized 
 her in his arms, placed her before him upon his horse, 
 and, ordering his soldiers to return to Cesena, he rode 
 instantly across the country, and was soon lost in the 
 obscurity of the night. 
 
 The account of this was conveyed to Carracciolo by 
 one of the fugitives who had recognised in the horsemen 
 the soldiers of the Due de Valentinois. At first he 
 seemed as one who understands not what is said, so 
 difficult was it to give credence to a tale so fraught with 
 pain. He again required its recital ; then, after remain- 
 ing for a few moments motionless, as though stunned by 
 a thunderbolt, he suddenly started from this unnatural 
 stupor and rushed toward the ducal palace, where the 
 Doge Barberigo and the Council of Ten were already 
 assembled, and advancing amid them, at the very instant 
 they received the intelligence of this outrage of the 
 duke, he exclaimed : — 
 
 " Most illustrious senators, resolved to risk in private 
 revenge that life it was my hope to have dedicated to 
 the service of the republic, I appear now before you to 
 bid you respectfully farewell. I have been injured in 
 the noblest feelings of the heart — in my honour. I 
 have been robbed of that which was more dear to me 
 than all else I possessed, — my wife; and he who has 
 done this is the most perfidious, the most sacrilegious, 
 the most infamous of men, — the Due de Valentinois. 
 
174 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Be not ofiFended, most illustrious senators, if thus I 
 characterise a man who boasts to be of your nobility, and 
 honoured by your protection. It is not so : he lies ; his 
 baseness and his crimes render him undeserving of both, 
 as he is unworthy of that life of which I will deprive 
 him by this sword. It is true that a man — the incar- 
 nation of sacrilege by his birth, a fratricide, the usurper 
 of another's rights, an oppressor of the innocent, the 
 assassin of the highway, a man who violates every law, 
 that even which is sacred among nations the most bar- 
 barous, the law of hospitality; a man who, in his own 
 territories, waylays and attacks a woman; one who, on 
 the contrary, had not only a right to claim the respect 
 due to her sex and rank, but also the homage due to the 
 republic, whose general I am, — such a man, I repeat it, 
 deserves death, but by another hand than mine. But as 
 he who ought to punish, instead of being prince and 
 judge, is a father as guilty as the son, I will myself seek 
 out the author of this crime, and I will sacrifice my life, 
 not only to revenge my own wrong, and the blood of the 
 guiltless, but for the safety of this republic, at whose 
 destruction he aims, when he has accomplished that of 
 the other princes of Italy." 
 
 Tho doge and senators, already aware of the event 
 which had thus brought Carracoiolo before them, listened 
 to his discourse with feelings of the deepest interest and 
 indignation, — for, as he had truly said, the republic was 
 insulted in this injury to its general; they swore, there- 
 fore, by their honour, that if he would confide in them 
 instead of yielding to his thirst for revenge, of which he 
 would assuredly be the victim, either his wife should be 
 restored uninjured to his arms, or they themselves would 
 exact redress in proportion to the injury he had sustaiued. 
 As a proof of their earnestness, the tribunal immediately 
 
THE BORGIAS. 175 
 
 despatched Luigi Manenti, secretary of the Council of 
 Ten, to Imola, where, it was said, the duke then was, to 
 express the extreme displeasure of the republic at this 
 outrage. They, at the same time also, had an interview 
 with the Frenoli ambassador, requesting him to proceed 
 himself with Manenti to the Due de Valentinois, to de- 
 mand, in the name of Louis XII., the immediate freedom 
 of the lady who had been thus waylaid. The envoys 
 proceeded to Imola, where they found Cesare, who lis- 
 tened to their demands with every indication of surprise, 
 declaring himself free even from the imputation of the 
 crime, the authors of which he authorised Manenti and 
 the ambassador to pursue, declaring that he too would 
 cause the most active inquiries to be made. He exhibited 
 so much good faith that for a moment the envoys were 
 deceived, and commenced the strictest investigation. For 
 this purpose they visited the place where the incident 
 occurred, and the following was the information they 
 obtained : The dead and wounded had been found upon 
 the high-road. A horseman had been seen carrying away 
 a woman at full gallop across the country; a peasant, 
 returning from the fields, had seen him appearing and 
 disappearing, like a shadow, in the direction of a lonely 
 house; an old woman declared she saw him enter it. 
 Yet on the following morning the house had disappeared 
 as if by enchantment; the plough had passed over it, and 
 none could tell what had become of her they sought, 
 since the inmates of the house and the house itself were 
 gone. Manenti and the ambassador returned, related 
 what the duke had said, what they had done, and the 
 fruitless results of their inquiries. No one doubted that 
 Cesare was guilty of the crime, but none could prove 
 the fact ; the council, therefore, engaged in a war with the 
 Turks, were unwilling to commit themselves with the 
 
176 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Pope, and forbade Carracciolo to seek redress ; so that by 
 degrees the excitement died away, and the incident was 
 soon forgotten. 
 
 Upon the return of spring, Cesare reassembled his 
 troops, and again led them to the attack upon Taenza. 
 Another breach was effected, whereupon he ordered a 
 general assault, which again he headed; but, notwith- 
 standing his courage, and the brave support of his sol- 
 diers, they were repulsed by Astor, who led on his men 
 to the defence of the ramparts, from the heights of 
 which the women rolled down stones and trunks of trees 
 upon their assailants. After an hour's contest, Cesare 
 was forced to retreat, leaving two thousand men in the 
 ditches of the fortification, and amongst these Valentino 
 Farnese, one of his bravest condottieri. Then, as nei- 
 ther excommunications nor assaults availed him, the duke 
 converted the siege into a rigorous blockade ; and as he 
 had remarked some symptoms of a revolt at Cessna, he 
 placed there as governor Kamiro d'Orco, — a man of the 
 most remorseless resolution, with the power of life and 
 death over its inhabitants. 
 
 At the expiration of a month, during which Faenza 
 endured all the horrors of famine, commissioners arrived 
 at the duke's camp to propose terms of capitulation. 
 Cesare, pressed by his extensive designs in the Eomagna, 
 listened very willingly to their proposals, and it was 
 agreed that the city should surrender upon condition that 
 the lives and property of its inhabitants should be 
 spared; that Astor Manfredi should be allowed to retire 
 where he pleased, and should still retain his patrimonial 
 revenue. 
 
 These terms were scrupulously observed as regarded 
 the city, but Cesare, upon meeting Astor, struck by his 
 appearance, which, from his youth, was rather feminine. 
 
THE BORGIAS. VII 
 
 detained him in his camp, paying him all the respect due 
 to a prince, and appearing to have for him the sincerest 
 friendship. But Astor, like the betrothed of Carracciolo, 
 soon after disappeared, no one knew where ; Cesare even 
 appeared uneasy, but intimated he had probably escaped, 
 and sent couriers after him in every direction. A year 
 after this, in the Tiber, a little above the castle of San 
 Angelo, the body of a beautiful woman, whose hands 
 were tied behind her back, and that also of a handsome 
 youth, around whose neck yet hung the bow-string with 
 which he had been strangled, were found. The woman 
 was the betrothed of Carracciolo, the youth was Astor, 
 for a year victims of the lust of Cesare, who had them 
 then thrown into the Tiber. By the conquest of Faenza 
 he obtained the title of Duke of Eomagna, which was 
 first bestowed upon him in full consistory by the Pope, 
 and next ratified by the King of Hungary, the republic 
 of Venice, and the Kings of Castile and Portugal. 
 
 The news of this ratification reached Eome on the 
 anniversary of the foundation of the eternal city, which 
 caused it to be celebrated with increased splendour. But 
 the ambition of the duke increased as it was gratified. 
 No sooner was he master of Faenza, than, stimulated by 
 the Mariscotti, the ancient enemies of the Bentivogli, he 
 meditated the conquest of Bologna; but Giovanni de 
 Bentivoglio, whose ancestry from time immemorial had 
 possessed the city, had not only made every requisite 
 preparation for a protracted defence, but had also placed 
 himself under the protection of France; and no sooner 
 did he hear that Cesare was advancing upon Bologna 
 with his army than he despatched an envoy to Louis, to 
 request the fulfilment of his promise. Louis fulfilled it 
 with his accustomed honour; and when Cesare reached 
 Bologna, he was met by a request from the King of 
 
 VOL. I. — 12 
 
178 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 France to abandon his enterprise against his ally Benti- 
 voglio; but not being inclined to retreat without com- 
 pensation for his march, he proposed terms to which 
 Bentivoglio acceded, too happy to be freed from his 
 enemy at the price demanded, — the cession of Castel- 
 Bolenese, a fortress situated between Imola and Faenza, 
 a tribute of nine thousand ducats, and the maintenance 
 in Cesare's service of one hundred men-at-arms, and two 
 thousand foot-soldiers. In return for these advantages, 
 the duke acquainted Bentivoglio that he was indebted 
 for this visit to the suggestions of the Mariscotti ; then, 
 reinforced by the contingent of his new ally, he took the 
 road to Tuscany. He was hardly out of sight, when 
 Bentivoglio closed the gates of Bologna, and directed his 
 son Hermes to assassinate with his own hand Agamemnon 
 Mariscotti, while he himself massacred thirty-four of his 
 brothers' sons, daughters, or nephews, and two hundred 
 of their relatives and friends. This butchery was effected 
 by the noblest of the youth of Bologna, whom Benti- 
 voglio compelled to steep their hands in blood, the more 
 strongly to attach them to him, through fear of reprisals. 
 The designs of Cesare against Florence were now no 
 longer to be concealed; early in January he had sent to 
 Pisa B,egnier della Sassetta, and Pietro de G-amba Corti, 
 with a powerful force ; and the conquest of the Eomagna 
 effected, he despatched Oliverotto da Fermo thither also 
 with additional detachments. He had also reinforced 
 his army by the levies from Bologna; he had been 
 rejoined by Vitellozzo Vitelli, lord of Citta-di-Castello, 
 and by the Orsini at the head of two or three thousand 
 men, so that exclusive of those at Pisa, he had now 
 seven hundred men-at-arms, and five thousand foot- 
 soldiers. Yet notwithstanding this, upon entering into 
 Tuscany, he declared that his intentions were entirely 
 
TtlE B ORG IAS. 179 
 
 pacific, that he sought only to pass through the territory 
 of the republic upon his return to Rome, and offered to 
 pay upon the spot for whatever provisions his army 
 might require. But when lie had passed the defiles of 
 the mountains, and had reached Barberino, knowing 
 then that the city was in his power, and that its 
 approaches were defenceless, he placed a price upon the 
 friendship he had offered, and began to impose condi- 
 tions, rather than to submit to them. These were, that 
 the republic should recall Pietro de' Medici, the relation 
 and ally of the Orsini ; that six burgesses of the city, 
 to be named by Vitellozzo, should be delivered up to 
 him, that their death might atone for the unjust execu- 
 tion of Paolo Vitelli by the "Florentines; that the 
 senate should engage to withhold all succour from the 
 lord of Piombino; and that, lastly, Cesare should be 
 engaged in the service of the State, with a pay in pro- 
 portion to his claims. But whilst things were at this 
 point, he received the commands of the King of France 
 to join him with his army against Naples, the conquest 
 of which he was now enabled to undertake. He dared 
 not refuse compliance, but as the Florentines were 
 ignorant of this summons to quit Tuscany , he fixed the 
 price of his retreat at the payment of a sum of thirty-six 
 thousand ducats a year, for which he engaged to main- 
 tain three hundred men-at-arms, always ready to defend 
 the republic upon any emergency that might arise. 
 Hurried as he was by his engagements with the King 
 of France, he yet hoped to conquer the territory of 
 Piombino, and to carry its capital by a sudden assault; 
 but he found that Giacomo d'Appiano was prepared to 
 meet him, and had already laid waste the country 
 around, destroying even the fountains which might 
 supply water to his troops. Nevertheless, in a few 
 
180 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 days he was master of Severito, Scarlino, the island of 
 Elba, and Pianosa, but he was checked by the citadel, 
 which offered a determined resistance; and as Louis 
 XII. continued his march toward Rome , he was obliged 
 to quit his army, leaving Vitellozzo and Baglioni to 
 continue the siege. Louis now advanced toward Naples, 
 not with the thoughtless impetuosity of Charles VIII. , 
 but with his habitual circumspection. Besides his 
 alliances with Florence and Rome, he had concluded a 
 secret treaty with Perdinand the Catholic, who put 
 forth, through the line of Duras, the same claims upon 
 the kingdom of Naples as Louis through the house of 
 Anjou. 
 
 By this treaty, the kings divided their spoil; Louis 
 was to possess Naples and the Abruzzi, with the title of 
 King of Naples and of Jerusalem; Ferdinand was to 
 obtain Apulia and Calabria, with the title of duke of 
 those provinces; the investiture of which they were 
 both to receive from the Pope. The French army, 
 which was now joined by the Due de Valentinois, was 
 composed of one thousand lances, four thousand Swiss, 
 and six thousand Gascons, whilst Philippe de Eoben- 
 stein conducted by sea an additional force of six thou- 
 sand five hundred men. Against this force, the King of 
 Naples had only seven hundred men-at-arms, six hun- 
 dred light-horse, and six thousand foot-soldiers to bring 
 into the field; but he relied much upon Gonsalvo de 
 Cordova, who was to rejoin him at Gaeta, and to whom 
 he had, therefore, opened all the fortresses of Calabria. 
 
 But this confidence in his faithless ally was not of 
 long duration; upon arriving at Rome the French and 
 Spanish ambassadors presented to the Pope the secret 
 treaty signed at Granada the 11th of November, 1500, 
 between Louis and Ferdinand. Although Alexander 
 
THE BORGIAS. 181 
 
 in his provident sagacity had freed himself by the death 
 of Alfonso from every engagement with the house of 
 Aragon, he nevertheless still raised some objections to 
 its terms; but when it was pointed out that they had 
 been drawn up solely to give the Christian princes an 
 increased opportunity of attacking the Ottoman empire, 
 such considerations, it may be well conceived, overcame 
 whatever scruples he entertained; and he decided, 
 therefore, on the 26th of June, in full consistory, to 
 declare Frederic no longer King of Naples. Frederic, 
 indeed, on hearing of the arrival of the French army, 
 the treachery of Ferdinand, and the act of dethronement 
 published by Alexander, perceived that all was lost; 
 but, nevertheless, he was unwilling it should be said 
 that he renounced his kingdom without at least an 
 attempt for its defence. He directed, therefore, Fabricio 
 Colonna and Eanucio de Marciano to check, if possible, 
 the French before Capua with three hundred men-at- 
 arms, some light-horse and infantry; he himself occu- 
 pied Aversa with another division, whilst Prospero 
 Colonna, with the remainder, was to defend Naples and 
 oppose the Spaniards in Calabria. 
 
 These arrangements were scarcely made, when 
 D'Aubigny, passing the Volturno, laid siege to Capua, 
 which he at once invested on both sides of the river. 
 The French had hardly encamped, when their artillery 
 was brought into play, to the great terror of the besieged, 
 who were almost all merely fugitives from the neigh- 
 bouring districts. Thus, although the assaults of the 
 enemy had been bravely repelled by Fabricio Colonna, 
 so great and headstrong was their terror that every one 
 talked of immediate surrender, and it was with the 
 utmost difficulty that Colonna could induce the multi- 
 tude to understand that it was at least desirable to profit 
 
182 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 by the check the besiegers had experienced, and thus to 
 obtain favourable terms of surrender. But this was not 
 the interest of Cesare Borgia; any capitulation -whatever 
 would deprive him. of the booty and pleasure that the 
 sack of a city so rich and densely populated as Capua 
 must insure. He therefore, upon his own account, 
 entered into stipulations with one of the chiefs stationed 
 to defend a gate of the city, — negotiations which, by 
 the weight of gold, were far more efificacious than any 
 others. 
 
 Whilst Fabricio Colonna was discussing on the bas- 
 tions the terms of surrender with the French com- 
 manders, sudden cries of terror and for mercy arose from 
 the besieged; for Borgia, without the slightest intima- 
 tion of his design , had entered the city at the head of 
 his troops, and was cutting down the garrison, who, 
 relying on the signature of the treaty, had withdrawn 
 from their posts. The French on their side, perceiving 
 that half of the city had surrendered, rushed through 
 the gates with such impetuosity that all further resist- 
 ance was useless. The butchery and pillage had begun, 
 and in vain did Fabricio Colonna, Marciano, and Don 
 Ugo de Cardona attempt, by the few men they had 
 hastily assembled, to make head at once against the 
 French and Spaniards. Fabricio and Ugo were made 
 prisoners; Ranucio fell wounded into the hands of the 
 Duo de Valentinois; seven thousand of the besieged 
 were massacred in the streets, including the traitor who 
 had betrayed the gate; the churches were pillaged, the 
 nunneries attacked, and the inmates of these were seen 
 to throw themselves down the wells, or into the river, 
 to escape the brutal passions of the soldiers. Three 
 hundred of them, daughters of the noblest families of 
 Capua, had taken refuge in a tower ; the Due de Valen- 
 
THE BORGIAS. 183 
 
 tinois burst open its gates, selected forty of the most 
 beautiful for himself, and abandoned the rest to his 
 army. The pillage lasted three days. 
 
 Capua taken, Frederic felt that any further attempts 
 to defend himself were useless ; he in consequence shut 
 himself up in the Chateau ISTeuf , and allowed Gaeta and 
 Naples to enter into terms with the conqueror. Gaeta 
 was spared on the payment of sixty thousand ducats, 
 and Naples on the surrender of the citadel , which was 
 yielded up by Frederic to D'Aubigny upon condition of 
 his being allowed to retire to Ischia, with his treasures 
 and jewellery, and to reside there unmolested during 
 six months with his family. This capitulation was 
 faithfully adhered to on both sides; D'Aubigny entered 
 into Naples, and Frederic withdrew to Ischia. 
 
 Thus fell for ever that branch of the house of Aragon, 
 after a reign of sixty -five years. Frederic, its head, 
 demanded and obtained permission to enter France, 
 where Louis XII. granted him the duchy of Anjou and 
 a pension of thirty thousand ducats, upon condition that 
 he should never leave the kingdom, where he died 
 September 9, 1504. His eldest son, Don Ferdinand, 
 Duke of Calabria, withdrew into Spain, where he died 
 in 1550. Alfonso II. , who had accompanied his father 
 into France, died poisoned, it was said, at Grenoble, at 
 the age of twenty-two; lastly Cesare, the third son, 
 died at Ferrara in his eighteenth year. Carlotta, his 
 daughter, was married in France to Nicolas, Comte de 
 Saval, governor and admiral of Brittany; one daughter, 
 the result of this marriage, was Anne de Saval, who 
 was married to Frangois de La Tremouille, and it is 
 through her that the house of La Tremouille inherited 
 those rights which they subsequently made good upon 
 the kingdom of the Two Sicilies. The surrender of 
 
184 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Naples freed the Due de Valentinois from his engage- 
 ments; he quitted, therefore, the French army, after 
 having received from its commander renewed assurances 
 of the friendship of Louis XII., and returned to the 
 siege of Piombino. 
 
 In the mean time the Pope visited the conquests of 
 his son, and traversed the Romagna, accompanied by 
 Lucrezia, who, at last consoled for the loss of her hus- 
 band, had never been so high in his Holiness's favour; 
 and upon her return to Rome she inhabited the same 
 apartments as her father. The consequence of this 
 renewal of papal friendship was two bulls, which raised 
 to a duchy the cities of Nepi and of Sermoneta; one 
 was given to Giovanni Borgia, and the other to Don 
 Kodrigo of Aragon, son of Lucrezia and of Alfonso, 
 and the territories of the Colonna were awarded as an 
 appanage to these two duchies. Besides this, Alexander 
 was already planning a further increase to his prosperity 
 by a union between Lucrezia and Don Alfonso d'Este, 
 son of Hercules, Duke of Ferrara, in favour of which 
 Louis XII. had interested himself. 
 
 On the same day that he received intelligence of the 
 fall of Piombino, he heard also that Duke Hercules had 
 given his consent to the King of France. This news, in 
 both respects , was of the greatest interest to Alexander, 
 although one greatly exceeded the other in importance ; 
 the marriage of Lucrezia with the heir presumptive of 
 the duchy of Ferrara was, in fact, received with a joy 
 that savoured a little of the upstart. 
 
 The Due de Valentinois was invited to return to 
 Home, to assist at the public festivals, and the day of 
 the announcement of the marriage the governor of the 
 castle of San Angelo received orders to fire the cannon 
 every fifteen minutes, from noon till midnight. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 185 
 
 At two o'clock Lucrezia left the Vatican, accom- 
 panied by her brothers, the Due de Valentinois and 
 the Duke of Squillaoe, accompanied by all the nobility 
 of Rome, and proceeded to the church della Madonna 
 del Popolo, wherein the Duke of Gandia and Giovanni 
 Borgia were buried, to return thanks for this additional 
 sign of the favour and protection of Heaven ; and in the 
 evening, accompanied by the same cavalcade, rendered 
 still more brilliant by the light of torches and the 
 glare of the illuminations, she passed throughout the 
 city amid cries of " Long live Pope Alexander VI. ," 
 "Long live the Duchess of Ferrara," which were 
 shouted by two heralds, dressed in cloth of gold. 
 
 On the following morning various public games, in- 
 cluding a bull-fight and masquerades, were announced. 
 A few days after this Lucrezia proceeded to the Vatican, 
 where the Pope, the Due de Valentinois, Cardinal 
 d'Este, and Don Ferdinand, proxy of the Duke Alfonso, 
 awaited her arrival. The ceremony of the betrothals 
 being completed. Cardinal d'Este presented to Lucrezia 
 four costly jewelled rings, and then placed upon the 
 table a casket, richly inlaid with ivory, from which he 
 took a quantity of jewels, chains, and collars of pearls 
 and diamonds, the workmanship of which was not less 
 valuable than the materials ; and these he also requested 
 her to accept until Don Alfonso could himself offer 
 others more deserving her attention. Lucrezia most 
 joyfully received them, and then retired, leaning on the 
 Pope's arm, and accompanied by the ladies of her court, 
 leaving the Due de Valentinois to entertain the ambas- 
 sadors at the Vatican. 
 
 The ceremony of the espousals concluded, the Pope 
 and the Due de Valentinois occupied themselves with 
 the arrangements for her departure. Anxious that this 
 
186 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 should be conducted with great pomp, the Pope ap- 
 pointed, as a becoming escort for his daughter, besides 
 her two brothers-in-law, and the gentlemen of their 
 retinue, the senate of E,ome, and all those nobles whose 
 fortune enabled them to display the greatest magnifi- 
 cence in their dresses and liveries. Among them were 
 Oliviero and Eamiro Mattel, sons of Pietro Mattel and 
 of a daughter that was born to the Pope by another con- 
 nexion than that with Vanozza; moreover, his Holiness 
 appointed Trancesoo Borgia, Cardinal de Cosenza, legate 
 a latere, to accompany his daughter to the frontiers of 
 the papal States. The Due de Valentinois at the same 
 time gave orders that Lucrezia should be received 
 throughout the cities of the Eoniagna as their sovereign, 
 and thereupon great preparations were made to comply 
 with his desire. The messengers, however, appointed 
 for this purpose, reported that they greatly feared much 
 dissatisfaction would be expressed at Cesena, where it 
 will be remembered Cesare, to retain it in subjection, 
 had left Eamiro d'Orco governor, with power of life 
 and death over the citizens. Eamiro d'Orco had so 
 well discharged the duty intrusted to him that there 
 was nothing more to fear as regarded rebellion, for one- 
 sixth of the inhabitants had perished upon the scaffold. 
 A city in mourning for its dead could not be expected 
 to offer the same demonstrations of joy as would be 
 exhibited at Imola, Paenza, or Pesaro; but the duke 
 remedied this inconvenience with a promptitude and 
 success which was peculiarly his own. On awaking 
 one morning the inhabitants of Cesena found a scaffold 
 erected in the public square of the town, upon which 
 was a man, quartered; and this was surmounted by his 
 head, affixed to the end of a pike. This was all that 
 remained of Eamiro d'Orco. By whom this scaffold 
 
THE BORGIAS. 187 
 
 had been erected, by whom this terrible execution had 
 taken place, was entirely unknown; but the republic 
 of Florence, requiring from Machiavelli, their envoy to 
 Cesena, his opinion of the act, received for answer, — 
 
 Illustrious Lords, — I can give you no information rela- 
 tive to the execution, except that Cesare Borgia is a prince 
 who knows the beat how to make and to unmake men accord- 
 ing to their merits. 
 
 NrcoLo Machiavelli. 
 
 The duke's forethought was successful; the Duchess 
 of Ferrara was warmly received in every city through 
 which she passed, and particularly in the city of Cesena. 
 Whilst thus Lucrezia proceeded to Ferrara, to meet her 
 fourth husband, Alexander and the Due de Valentinois 
 resolved to make a tour in their latest conquest, the 
 duchy of Piombino. The apparent motive of this was 
 to receive the oath of submission from the duke's new 
 subjects, but the real motive was to form an arsenal in 
 the capital of Giacomo Appiano, bearing upon Tuscany, 
 their designs on which neither the Pope nor his son 
 had ever seriously renounced. They embarked, there- 
 fore, at Corneto in ten galleys, accompanied by a great 
 number of cardinals and prelates, and arrived the same 
 evening at Piombino. Here the papal court remained 
 for some days, as well for the duke to receive the alle- 
 giance of the citizens, as to assist at some church cere- 
 monies, the principal of which was held by the Pope, 
 upon the third Sunday in Lent; at which the Cardinal 
 of Cosenza chanted the mass, assisted by the Pope, and 
 attended by the Due de Valentinois. Then, that his 
 habitual pleasures might relieve the performance of 
 these serious duties, the Pope desired the attendance 
 of the most beautiful girls of the country to go through 
 
188 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 their national dances in his presence. To these, festi- 
 vals of the most sumptuous kind succeeded, at which, 
 although it was Lent, the Pope made no secret of his 
 neglect of the abstinence enjoined. 
 
 The object of these festivals was also to spend a con- 
 siderable sum of money in the country, and to make the 
 duke popular by weakening as much as possible the mem- 
 ory of the unfortunate Giacomo d'Appiano. After Piom- 
 bino they visited the Isle of Elba, where they remained 
 only so long as was requisite to inspect the old, and 
 give orders for the construction of some new, fortifica- 
 tions. They then re-embarked to return to Rome, but 
 the weather became stormy, and the Pope being unwil- 
 ling to put back to Porto Ferrajo, they remained five 
 days in the galleys, which had on board provisions for 
 two days only. During the last three days the Pope 
 subsisted only upon some fried fish, obtained with great 
 difficulty, owing to the weather. They arrived off 
 Corneto, where the duke, who was in another galley, 
 disembarked, whilst the Pope was forced to continue 
 his course toward Pontercola, which he finally reached 
 after encountering so violent a tempest that all his 
 attendants were completely exhausted, either by its 
 effects or by the fear of death. The Pope alone was 
 calm and collected, remaining on the deck, seated in 
 an easy-chair, invoking the name of Jesus, and making 
 the sign of the cross. He joined the Duke of Corneto, 
 and thence by short stages they proceeded by Civita 
 Vecchia and Palo, and so returned to Rome. Almost 
 at the same time Cardinal d'Albret arrived to receive 
 the " promised hat" from the Pope ; he was accompanied 
 by the two infants of Navarre, who were welcomed, not 
 only with the honours due to their rank, but also as the 
 brothers-in-law of the Due de Valentinois, who was 
 
THE BORGIAS. 189 
 
 anxious to evince the importance he attached to their 
 alliance. 
 
 It was now requisite for the duke to resume his con- 
 quests, and as on the 1st of May in the preceding year, 
 the Pope had in full consistory pronounced the sentence 
 which deprived Giulio Cesare de Varano of his estates, 
 and the annexation to the Holy See, as a punishment 
 for the murder of his brother Rodolpho, and the protec- 
 tion he had granted to the Pope's enemies, Cesare 
 quitted Rome to execute that decree. Upon his arrival 
 on the frontiers of Perouse belonging to his general, 
 Giovanni Paolo Baglioni, he despatched Oliverotto da 
 Fermo and Gravina Orsini to lay waste the march of 
 Camerino, requesting at the same time the aid of Guido 
 d'Ubaldo di Montefeltro, Duke of Urbino, in the enter- 
 prise, which the duke, in the strictest amity with the 
 Pope, and having no reason to suspect the intentions of 
 Cesare, did not dare refuse. But the same day that his 
 troops marched toward Camerino, those of the Due de 
 Valentinois entered the duchy of Urbino, and made 
 themselves masters of Cagli, one of the four cities of 
 this minor State. 
 
 The duke foresaw the consequences of resistance; he 
 fled, therefore, disguised as a peasant, so that within 
 less than eight days Cesare was in possession of his 
 duchy, excepting the fortresses of Maiolo and of San 
 Leo. The duke now returned to Camerino, which still 
 held out, animated by the presence of Giulio Cesare de 
 Varano, and of his two sons Venantio and Annibale; 
 the eldest, Giovanni Maria, he had sent to Venice. 
 Cesare's arrival led to conferences. A capitulation was 
 drawn up, by which security of life and the possession 
 of their property was conceded to the besieged. But 
 this was not in accordance with the objects of Cesare; 
 
190 CELSBXATED CRIMES. 
 
 therefore, profiting by the relaxation, of vigilance, which 
 naturally ensues upon the announcement of a capitula- 
 tion, he surprised the city the night prior to its surren- 
 der, and made Varano and his two sons prisoners, who 
 were all strangled, the father at Pergola, and the two 
 sons at Pesaro, by Don Michel Correglia, who, although 
 promoted to a captaincy, returned at intervals to his 
 earlier avocations as a shirro. 
 
 In the mean time Vitellozzo Vitelli, with the title of 
 vicar-general of the Church, having under his command 
 eight hundred men-at-arms and three thousand infantry, 
 had, in compliance with the secret and verbal instruc- 
 tions he had received from Cesare, strictly carried out 
 the system of invasion, which was to encompass Plorence 
 in a net of iron, and render her defence impossible. A 
 scholar worthy of the master, taught to employ either 
 the slyness of the fox or the strength of the lion, he 
 had intrigued with some youthful nobles of Arezzo to 
 deliver up to him the city. 
 
 Meanwhile, the conspiracy being discovered by Gu- 
 glielmo de' Pazzi, the Florentine commissioner, he caused 
 the arrest of two of its members; but the others, far 
 more numerous than had been supposed, assembling in 
 all parts of the city, and urging an appeal to arms, the 
 republicans, who in any revolution saw the means of 
 throwing off the Florentine yoke, joined them, set free 
 the captives, seized Guglielmo, and having proclaimed 
 the re-establishment of the ancient constitution, laid 
 siege to the citadel, where Cosmo de' Pazzi, Bishop of 
 Arezzo, had taken refuge, who, finding himself sur- 
 rounded on all sides, immediately despatched a courier 
 to Florence to demand aid. Unfortunately for the car- 
 dinal, the troops of Vitelli were nearer to the besiegers 
 than those of Florence to the besieged ; so that, instead 
 
THE BORGIAS. 191 
 
 of auxiliaries, the army of the enemy approached. This 
 was commanded by Vitelli, Baglioni, and Orsini; and 
 along with them were the two Medici , who hastened to 
 every quarter where there was a league against Florence , 
 and who placed themselves entirely in the hands of 
 Borgia, ready to enter the city from which they had 
 been expelled, under any stipulation whatever. An- 
 other reinforcement, both in artillery and money, from 
 Pandolfo Petrucci arrived the following morning, so 
 that the citadel, unsupported by Florence, was obliged 
 on the 18th of June to surrender. 
 
 Vitellozzo intrusted the charge of the city to the 
 Aretini, garrisoned the citadel with a thousand men 
 under Fabio Orsino, and, profiting by the terror which 
 the successive conquests of the duchy of Urbino, Cam- 
 erino, and Arezzo had created, he marched upon Monte 
 San Severino, upon Castiglioni-Aretino, Cortona, and 
 the other cities of the Val de Chiana, all which surren- 
 dered almost without defence. Thus within ten or 
 twelve leagues from Florence, yet not daring to attack 
 it, he sent to receive instructions from Cesare, who, 
 thinking the time had now arrived to strike the blow 
 so long suspended, departed immediately to be the mes- 
 senger of his own reply to his lieutenants. But if 
 the Florentines had sent no succours to Guglielmo de' 
 Pazzi, they had at least required them from Chaumont 
 d'Amboise, governor of the Milanese for Louis XII., 
 pointing out not only the danger incurred, but also the 
 ambitious projects of Cesare, who, first invading the 
 minor, then the secondary States, would probably be so 
 excited by the pride of conquest as to attack the terri- 
 tories of the king. 
 
 At this time the state of Naples was unsatisfactory ; 
 serious differences already had arisen between the Comte 
 
192 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 d'Armagnac and Gonsalvo de Cordova. Louis XII. 
 might soon require the assistance of Florence, always 
 hitherto faithful. He resolved, therefore, to stop 
 Cesare's further advance; and not only did he send him 
 an order to stop the march of his troops, but, to insure 
 its fulfilment, he marched instantly four hundred lances, 
 under Imbaut, into Tuscany. Upon the frontiers, 
 therefore, Cesare received a copy of a treaty concluded 
 between the republic and the King of France, in which 
 the former was bound to aid her ally against all enemies 
 whatever, and along with it the formal order from the 
 king forbidding his further advance. Cesare heard 
 at the same time that, in addition to the force under 
 Imbaut, Louis, on arriving at Asti, had immediately 
 directed two hundred men-at-arms, three thousand 
 Swiss, and a powerful train of artillery, to advance 
 toward Parma, under Louis de La Tremouille. He saw 
 in these combined movements hostile designs toward him- 
 self, and instantly changed, with his customary ability, 
 his policy to his purpose. Profiting by his merely ver- 
 bal instructions, he wrote to Vitellozzo, reproaching him 
 with having compromised his interests for the further- 
 ance of his own, desiring him immediately to restore to 
 the Florentines the cities and fortresses he had captured , 
 threatening to march against him if these were longer 
 retained. This done , he set out for Milan , where Louis 
 had just arrived, offering by the very fact of the evacu- 
 ation of the captured cities a convincing proof that he 
 had been misrepresented to the king. He was also 
 empowered by the Pope to renew for eighteen months 
 the title of legate a latere, conferred upon Cardinal 
 d'Amboise, the friend rather than the minister of Louis. 
 Owing to this public proof of his innocence and his 
 influence, Cesare was soon reconciled to the king. Nor 
 
THE BORGIAS. 193 
 
 was this all : ever bent upon rising the greater from the 
 event designed to crush him, he calculated at once the 
 possible advantages to be derived from this pretended 
 disobedience of his lieutenants. Their power was 
 already a source of uneasiness to him, and he thought 
 the time was perhaps at hand when, by their destruc- 
 tion and the possession of their estates, he might obtain 
 some indemnification for the loss of Florence, which 
 invariably escaped from his grasp when most it seemed 
 within his power. The lieutenants of the Due de Val- 
 entinois, like those of Alexander, were already too 
 powerful, and Borgia must inherit their domains if he 
 wished to prevent their inheritance of his. He obtained 
 three hundred lances from Louis to march against them. 
 Vitellozzo, however, had no sooner read the letter of 
 Cesare than he foresaw that he was sacrificed to the fear 
 of offending the King of France; but he was not one 
 thus coolly to be offered up in expiation of a fault. 
 Moreover, the examples of Marano and Manfredi were 
 before him ; and , death for death , it was better to fall 
 with arms in his hands. He convoked, therefore, at 
 Maggione, all those whose lives and domains were men- 
 aced by this new change in the policy of Cesare. These 
 were, Paolo Orsino, Giovanni Paolo Baglioni, Hermes 
 Bentivoglio, Antonio de Venafro, Oliverotto da Fermo, 
 and the Duke of Urbino; the first six had everything 
 to lose ; the last had lost all. They signed a league for 
 mutual defence, whether they were attacked conjointly 
 or separately. 
 
 The first intimation of this treaty was brought to 
 Cesare by its results. The Duke of Urbino, beloved 
 by his subjects, had no sooner arrived with a few soldiers 
 before the fortress of San Leo than it surrendered, and 
 in less than eight days the entire duchy was reunited 
 
 VOL. I. — 13 
 
194 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 under the government of the duke. Cesare was at Imola, 
 where he awaited the arrival of the French troops, but 
 almost without soldiers; so that, had Bentivoglio and 
 the Duke of Urbino united their forces and marched 
 against him, it is probable either that he would have 
 been made prisoner, or constrained to quit the Eomagna; 
 this was made more probable by the fact that Don Ugo 
 de Cardona and Michelotto, having misunderstood his 
 instructions, had found their communications with him 
 suddenly cut off. He had, in fact, desired them to fall 
 back upon Eimini, and to bring him two hundred light- 
 horse and five hundred infantry which they commanded; 
 but, unacquainted with the danger of his position, 
 whilst they attempted to carry Pergola and Fossonbrone 
 by surprise, they were surrounded by Orsino, Gravina, 
 and Vitellozzo. Ugo de Cardona and Michelotto made a 
 stout defence, notwithstanding which their troops were 
 cut to pieces. The former was made prisoner; the latter 
 escaped only by concealing himself among the dead; 
 then at nightfall he took refuge at Fano. The confed- 
 erates, however, notwithstanding the weakness of his 
 force, did not venture to attack Cesare, — whether 
 through fear, or through respect for him as the ally of 
 the King of France ; they therefore contented themselves 
 with the reduction of the surrounding cities and for- 
 tresses, many of which fell into the hands of Vitellozzo, 
 Orsino, and Gravina; whilst Giovanni Maria de Varano, 
 who had escaped the massacre of his family, re-entered 
 Camerino amid the acclamations of his people. 
 
 Yet these successes by no means diminished the con- 
 fidence of Cesare in his good fortune; and whilst on the 
 one hand he hastened the arrival of the French troops, 
 and enlisted in his pay the numerous roving bands then 
 known as the "lances brisees," he opened negotiations 
 
THE BORGIAS. 195 
 
 with his enemies, certain that the day which should 
 bring them to a conference would witness their destruc- 
 tion. Cesare had, in fact, been endowed by Heaven 
 with the fatal gift of persuasion, so that, well aware as 
 men might be of his duplicity, there was no means to 
 resist it, — not so much because of his eloquence, as 
 owing to that air of frank bonhoTrde which he so well 
 knew how to assume, and which Machiavelli so highly 
 praised, who, subtle politician as he was, had been 
 frequently deceived by its address. To induce Paolo 
 Orsino to treat with him at Imola, he sent the Cardinal 
 Borgia to the confederates as a hostage. Paolo there- 
 upon hesitated no longer, and reached Imola the 20th 
 of October, 1502. The duke welcomed him as one 
 welcomes an old friend, from whom he has been sepa- 
 rated for a few days by some trifling and momentary 
 disagreement. He frankly avowed that the wrong was 
 on his side, since he had alienated from him men who 
 were at once loyal nobles and brave captains; but, he 
 added, among men of their character, an open and sin- 
 cere explanation such as he now offered ought to restore 
 everything to its former friendly footing. Then, as a 
 proof that it was not fear but good-will that had induced 
 him to seek a reconciliation, he showed to Orsino the 
 letters of Cardinal d'Amboise, announcing the imme- 
 diate arrival of the French troops; he drew out before 
 him his new recruits, desiring they should be well con- 
 vinced that what he principally regretted was not so 
 much the loss of captains so distinguished that they 
 were the soul of his vast designs, but that he had for 
 one instant induced the world to believe he had not 
 recognised their merit; that in consequence he relied 
 upon him, whom he had ever preferred to all, to induce 
 his colleagues to conclude with him a peace which 
 
196 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 should be as profitable as war was prejudicial to their 
 interests, and that for himself he was ready to enter into 
 any arrangements not derogatory to his honour. 
 
 Orsino was a man in every respect suited for Cesare's 
 purposes, proud and self-conceited, — a sincere believer 
 of the proverb, that a Pope could not reign for eight 
 days against the will of the Colonna and the Orsini. 
 He trusted, therefore, if not to Cesare's good faith, at 
 least to his necessities, and signed, October 18, 1502, 
 the following convention : — 
 
 His Excellency the Duke of Romagna on the one hand, 
 and on the other the Orsini, with their confederates, being 
 desirous of putting an end to the enmities which have arisen 
 between them, agree to the following terms : that there shall 
 be a perpetual peace and alliance between the contracting 
 parties ; and that in conformity with that design, his Excel- 
 lency the Duke of Romagna shall receive as confederates all 
 the aforesaid nobles, each promising to defend the estates of all 
 in general, and of each in particular, against whoever may 
 attack them, excepting always his Holiness the Pope Alexan- 
 der VI., and his most Christian Majesty Louis XII., King of 
 France. The undermentioned nobles agree also in the same 
 terms to defend the person and estates of his Excellency as 
 well as those of the illustrious nobles, Don Godfredo Borgia, 
 Don Roderigo Borgia, and Don GiovanniBorgia, all brothers or 
 nephews of the Duke of Romagna. Moreover, as the rebellion 
 and conquest of the duchies of Urbino and Camerino have 
 occurred during the late differences, the aforesaid nobles agree 
 to assist in their recovery, and his Excellency the Duke of 
 Romagna is boimd to continue to the Orsini and Vitelli their 
 former military engagements, and upon the same conditions. 
 He promises, moreover, to demand the personal service but of 
 one of the confederates ; that of the others being voluntary. 
 He engages also the ratification of the second treaty, which 
 releases Cardinal Orsino from his residence at Rome, except as 
 it may be in conformity with his own desires. And as differ- 
 
THE BORGIAS. 197 
 
 ences have arisen between the Pope and Giovanni Bentivoglio, 
 these shall be submitted to the arbitrament without appeal of 
 Cardinal Orsino, the Duke of Bomagna, and of Pandolfo 
 Petrucci. The aforesaid nobles agree also upon the requisition 
 of the Duke of Eomagna, to place in his hands, as hostages, 
 one of the legitimate children of each, at the time and place it 
 may please him to indicate. Moreover, if any of the contract- 
 ing parties are made aware of designs prejudicial to the inter- 
 ests of another, they are bound to apprise him and the other 
 confederates of the fact. Finally, to consider, as their com- 
 mon enemy, whoever fails in the fulfilment of the present 
 stipulations, and to combine for the destruction of such estates 
 as may oppose them. 
 
 Cesahe. 
 
 Paul Oesino. 
 
 Agapit, Secretary. 
 
 When Orsino reported to the confederates the signa- 
 ture of the treaty, Bentivoglio, unwilling to submit to 
 the arbitration, made proposals to Cesare for the termi- 
 nation of their differences by a separate agreement, and 
 sent his son to him, to draw up its terms, which, after 
 some conferences, were settled as follows: Bentivoglio 
 was to withdraw from the confederates, to furnish for 
 eight years nine hundred men-at-arms and a hundred 
 mounted cross-bowmen to the duke, and to pay twelve 
 thousand ducats annually to Cesare, for the recruitment 
 of one hundred lances. On which account his son 
 Annibal was to have the niece of the Due de Valentinois 
 in marriage ; and the Pope would acknowledge his sov- 
 ereignty over Bologna. The King of France, the Duke 
 of Ferrara, and the republic were to be the guarantees 
 for its fulfilment. 
 
 Meanwhile the convention signed by Orsino met with 
 considerable opposition. Vitelli , above all , never ceased 
 to warn his confederates that this peace was far too 
 
198 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 prompt and easy not to be the covert of a snare ; but as 
 the duke had now raised a powerful force at Imola, 
 the four hundred lances from Louis XII. having now 
 reached him, he and Oliverotto decided upon its signa- 
 ture, and to intimate to the Duke of Urbino and the 
 Lord of Camerino their resolution; whereupon the 
 former withdrew to Citta-di-Castello, and the latter to 
 Naples. The Due de Valentinois in the mean time, 
 without any indication of his design, had commenced 
 his march on the 10th of December, advancing toward 
 Cesena with the powerful force he had collected. Alarm 
 was everywhere excited, not only in Eomagna, but 
 throughout the north of Italy. Florence feared that its 
 retreat from her territories concealed a snare, and 
 Venice, observing its approach, immediately despatched 
 an army to the Po. Cesare, perceiving this, and fearing 
 it might prejudice his interests by creating distrust, dis- 
 missed at Cesena his French auxiliaries, excepting one 
 hundred men-at-arms, commanded by M. de Candale, 
 his brother-in-law, reducing his force to two thousand 
 cavalry and ten thousand infantry. 
 
 Some days were spent in conferences at Cesena, for 
 the duke here met the envoys of the confederates who 
 were with their troops in the duchy of TJrbino ; but from 
 the very first deliberation upon the course to be pursued 
 with respect to the completion of its conquest, so many 
 difficulties were started that it was felt that an inter- 
 view between Cesare and one of the other parties to the 
 treaty was requisite. Thereupon Oliverotto da Fermo 
 proposed to him either to march upon Tuscany, or to 
 seize upon Sinigaglia, — the last place in the duchy of 
 Urbino not yet restored to his power. Cesare replied 
 that he was unwilling to carry war into Tuscany, the 
 Tuscans being his allies; but he approved the latter 
 
THE BORGIAS. 199 
 
 project, and consequently marched toward Fano. But 
 the daughter of Frederic, the former Duke of Urbino, 
 who held the citadel of Sinigaglia, aware that defence 
 was impossible, committed it to the charge of an officer, 
 desiring him to obtain for the city the most favourable 
 terms he could. 
 
 The duke heard of this at Eimini by a courier from 
 Vitelli and the Orsini, who informed him that the gov- 
 ernor of the citadel had declined its surrender to them, 
 but was willing to enter into terms with him, and they 
 in consequence advised him to proceed to the city. 
 Cesare replied that in accordance with their recommen- 
 dation he should dismiss at Cesena and Imola a part of 
 his troops, for, as he should join theirs (his only object 
 being to give peace to the duchy), these, together with 
 his own escort, would be sufficient; but that this pacifi- 
 cation was impossible if his former friends continued so 
 distrustful as to submit the settlement of their mutual 
 interests to agents. The confederates admitted the cor- 
 rectness of his opinion, but did not the less hesitate to 
 agree to his request. Vitellozzo in particular evinced a 
 distrust that nothing seemed able to overcome, though 
 he at last consented to meet the duke , — much rather 
 from a wish not to appear more timid than his compan- 
 ions than from any confidence he felt in the sincerity of 
 the friendship of Borgia. 
 
 Their decision was conveyed to the duke upon his 
 arrival at Pano, the 20th of December, 1502. He 
 immediately summoned eight of his most faithful adher- 
 ents, amongst whom were M. d'Enna, his nephew, 
 Michelotto, and Ugo de Cardona, and ordered them, 
 upon their arrival at Sinigaglia, when they observed 
 Oliverotto, Gravina, Vitellozzo, and Orsino advancing to 
 meet him, to place themselves, as a mark of respect, side 
 
200 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 by side with them, two to one, so that upon a given 
 signal they could either arrest or stab them. Then 
 describing to each the chief he should accompany, he 
 recommended them not to quit him until they should 
 arrive at the quarters prepared for them at Sinigaglia; 
 after which he directed his soldiers to assemble eight 
 thousand strong upon the banks of the Metauro, — a little 
 river of Umhria, which flows into the Adriatic, and 
 near which Asdrubal was defeated. The duke arrived 
 at the appointed rendezvous upon the 31st of December, 
 and sent forward immediately two hundred horsemen 
 and the infantry, which he followed with his men-at- 
 arms, coasting the Adriatic, having on his right the 
 mountains, and upon his left the sea, though at times 
 the road was so narrow that the army could not advance 
 with more than ten abreast in front. After a four 
 hours' march, the duke, at a turn of the road, perceived 
 Sinigaglia situated about a mile from the sea; a bow- 
 shot from the mountains, a little river flowed between 
 the city and the army, the banks of which it was requi- 
 site to follow for some time in their descent; at last he 
 found a bridge thrown across it, opposite to one of the 
 quarters of the city. Here the duke ordered the cavalry 
 to halt; the cavalry being drawn up in two files, the 
 infantry defiled between, entered the city, and were sta- 
 tioned in the principal square. 
 
 To admit the entry of the duke's army, Vitellozzo, 
 Gravina, Orsino, and Oliverotto had cantoned their 
 soldiers in the environs; the latter alone had retained 
 about a thousand foot and a hundred and fifty horsemen 
 in a barrack near to the suburb through which the duke 
 passed. Scarcely had Cesare approached the city, 
 when he observed Vitellozzo, the Duke of Gravina, 
 and Orsino advancing to meet him , — the last two sufi&- 
 
THE BORGIAS. 201 
 
 ciently gay and unsuspecting, but the first so sad and 
 depressed that it seemed as though he had foreseen his 
 fate. Indeed, this seemed to be the case; for, upon 
 quitting his army, he had bidden his soldiers farewell, 
 as if never destined to rejoin them, and had committed 
 his family to the protection of his officers, shedding 
 tears as he embraced his children, — a weakness which 
 appeared strange on the part of so brave a soldier. 
 Valentinois advanced and extended his hand in a man- 
 ner so frank and loyal that Gravina and Orsino no longer 
 doubted his sincerity; Vitellozzo alone remained as 
 dejected as before. 
 
 In the mean time the trusty agents of the duke had 
 obeyed his instructions, taking their places on the right 
 and left of their victims, excepting Oliverotto, whom 
 the duke, not perceiving, sought for with much anxiety, 
 until he observed him exercising his troops in their 
 quarters. He immediately sent Michelotto and M. 
 d'Enna with instructions to induce him to withdraw 
 his troops into their quarters, lest quarrels should arise 
 between the duke's soldiers and his own, and then 
 to join his companions, who were now with Cesare. 
 Oliverotto, betrayed by his destiny, made no objection, 
 and, escorted by them, immediately galloped toward his 
 friends. As soon as he drew near, the duke held out 
 his hand, and advanced toward the palace prepared for 
 him, leaving his victims in the rear. 
 
 Cesare alighted and made a sign to the leader of his 
 men-at-arms to await his further orders; he then entered, 
 followed by Oliverotto, Gravina, Vitellozzo, and Orsino, 
 each attended by their acolytes; but scarcely had they 
 reached the apartments when the door was closed upon 
 them, and Cesare, turning round, exclaimed, "The 
 hour is come ! " whereupon each of the confederates was 
 
202 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 seized, and with the dagger at his throat, obliged to sur- 
 render up his arms. Immediately after, Cesare opened 
 the window, gave the preconcerted signal to the com- 
 mander of his men-at-arms, who proceeded directly to 
 the barracks wherein the troops of Oliverotto were quar- 
 tered, and these, being thus surprised, were made pris- 
 oners to a man. 
 
 The troops then pillaged the city, and Machiavelli 
 was summoned to the presence of the duke. Their 
 interview lasted two hours, during which Cesare ex- 
 pressed his pleasure at the success of his stratagem, 
 which would destroy at a blow the enemies of the king, 
 of the Florentine republic, and of himself, and put an 
 end to all cause of dissension and future strife in Italy, 
 — concluding with two requests : that the republic 
 should advance its cavalry toward Bergo, for the pur- 
 pose, if need were, of marching with him upon Cartello 
 and Perugia; and, secondly, that it would authorise the 
 arrest of the Duke of Urbino, should he take refuge 
 within the Florentine territory on hearing of the deten- 
 tion of Vitellozzo. Upon Machiavelli's objecting that, 
 with respect to the latter, it would compromise the dig- 
 nity of the republic, and therefore never could be agreed 
 to, Cesare approved of his decision, and added that it 
 would be sufficient if he were detained^ and not set at 
 libertj' without his consent. 
 
 The same night eight men in masks descended into 
 the dungeons in which the prisoners were confined, who 
 thought the fatal hour had struck for them all. But 
 the executioner's duty for the present was limited to 
 Vitellozzo and Oliverotto. When their sentence was 
 announced to them, Oliverotto burst forth into violent 
 reproaches against Vitellozzo, declaring he had induced 
 him to rise in arms against the duke; as for Vitellozzo, 
 
Portrait of Nicolo Machiavelli. 
 Original Etching by William Unger. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 203 
 
 he merely prayed the Pope would grant him a plenary 
 indulgence for his sins. They were then led out heyond 
 the ramparts of the city, strangled, and their bodies 
 thrown into two graves already prepared for their recep- 
 tion. The fate of the others was only retarded until 
 news arrived of the arrest of Cardinal Orsino by the 
 Pope, upon which Gravina and Orsino were similarly 
 strangled. 
 
 The duke quitted Sinigaglia upon the execution of 
 Vitellozzo, leaving some instructions to Michelotto, and 
 assuring Machiavelli that his only desire had been to 
 restore peace to the Romagna and Tuscany, and that he 
 thought he had gained his object in thus putting to death 
 those who had been the cause of all the troubles by 
 which their territories had suffered; that, as for any 
 future revolts, they would be as sparks that a drop of 
 water might extinguish. 
 
 No sooner was the Pope aware of the success of his 
 son's stratagem than, anxious to play his own part, he 
 sent (although it was midnight) to acquaint the Car- 
 dinal Orsino that Sinigaglia was taken, and invited 
 him to come in the morning and converse with him 
 upon the good news. In consequence, at an early hour, 
 Orsino went on horseback to the Vatican; but at the 
 corner of the first street he met the governor of Rome 
 with a detachment of cavalry, who congratulated him 
 upon the accident which had made them thus compan- 
 ions, and accompanied him to the door of the palace ; 
 here the cardinal alighted, and ascended the staircase, 
 which he had hardly done before his mules and retinue 
 were seized. He also, upon entering the hall, found 
 himself suddenly surrounded by the guards, who led 
 him to another hall, where he found the Abbe Alviano, 
 the prothonotary Orsino, Giacomo Santa Croce, and 
 
204 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Binaldo Orsino prisoners also; and at the same time 
 the governor received orders to take possession of the 
 chateau of Monte Giardino, belonging to the Orsini, 
 and to bring away all the jewels, silver plate, and what- 
 ever valuable property it contained. This order was 
 most conscientiously obeyed, — everything, even to the 
 cardinal's account-books, being brought to the Vatican. 
 
 Two items particularly struck the Pope upon inspect- 
 ing the accounts : the first was an entry of two thousand 
 ducats due to the cardinal, but without the name of the 
 debtor; the second, that, three months before, the car- 
 dinal had purchased , for fifteen thousand Koman crowns, 
 a costly pearl, not forthcoming among those his Holi- 
 ness now had in his possession; whereupon he gave 
 orders that until the cardinal's accounts were properly 
 balanced, the men who twice a day brought food to the 
 prisoner should not be allowed to enter the castle of San 
 Angelo. Upon the same day the cardinal's mother 
 brought the two thousand ducats, and his mistress, in 
 man's clothes, the missing pearl; but the Pope was so 
 struck by her beauty under that disguise that he restored 
 it to her at the price she had originally given. The 
 Pope moreover allowed food to be conveyed to the car- 
 dinal, prepared in such a manner that he died , poisoned, 
 upon the 22nd of February; that is to say, two days 
 after his accounts had been examined and corrected. 
 Upon the evening of his decease, the Prince de Squil- 
 lace took possession of his territories in the name of the 
 Pope. 
 
 In the mean time the Due de Valentinois marched 
 upon Citta-di-Castello and Perugia, which he took with- 
 out a blow. Sienna alone remained, in which Pandolfo 
 Petrucei, the last of the confederates, had taken refuge; 
 but Sienna was under the protection of the French, and 
 
THE BORGIAS. 205 
 
 beyond the dominions of the Church. Cesare was con- 
 tent to exact, therefore, the retirement of Petrucci to 
 Lucca, which was done; whereupon , the Eomagna being 
 entirely subjected, he resolved to return and assist the 
 Pope in the destruction of what yet remained of the 
 Orsini. 
 
 Prior to this, the attention of Louis of France being 
 engaged by some reverses he had experienced at Naples, 
 Cesare seized successively upon Vicovaro, Palembera, 
 Sanzano, and Cervetti, and having thus extended the 
 papal States from the frontiers of Naples to those of 
 Venice, he marched to Rome, intending to consult his 
 father upon the means of raising his dukedom into a 
 kingdom. He came in time to divide with Alexander 
 the inheritance of the Cardinal Giovanni Michele, who 
 had just died, poisoned by a cup he had received from 
 the Pope. He found his father preoccupied also by an 
 important speculation; he had decided upon creating 
 nine cardinals upon the approaching solemnity of St. 
 Peter, from which the following advantages would 
 accrue: first, the benefices of the new cardinals would 
 revert to the Pope, who would sell them; next, the 
 nine selected would purchase the dignity, more or less 
 dearly, according to their means, — the price, left to 
 the Pope's discretion, would vary from ten thousand to 
 forty thousand ducats; lastly, as cardinals, having lost 
 the right of bequest, the Pope became their successor. 
 He had only to poison them, and he became their heir; 
 placing himself in the situation of the butcher, who, in 
 want of money, has only to slaughter the fattest sheep 
 of his flock. 
 
 The nomination took place, the nine cardinals were 
 elected, the price of their simony was paid, and their 
 vacant benefices were sold. The Pope now selected 
 
206 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 those it was requisite to poison. The number was fixed 
 at three: Cardinal Casanova, Melchiore Copis, and 
 Adriano Castellense, who had taken the title of Adrien 
 de Corneto, and who, by his numerous offices, had 
 amassed an immense fortune. When these points were 
 settled between Cesare and the Pope, they invited their 
 select party of guests to sup with them at a villa near 
 the Vatican, belonging to Cardinal de Corneto; and 
 early in the morning they sent thither their maitre 
 d'hotel, to make the requisite arrangements, and Cesare, 
 at the same time, gave to the Pope's butler two bottles 
 of wine prepared with a white powder, resembling sugar, 
 whose fatal properties he had so often tested, — desiring 
 him at the same time not to serve it but upon hia orders, 
 nor to any but those whom he should specially mention. 
 On this account the butler had placed the wine upon the 
 sideboard, apart from the rest, and particularly desired 
 the servants not to touch it, it being specially reserved 
 for the Pope's use. 
 
 Toward evening Alexander quitted the Vatican on 
 foot, leaning upon Cesare's arm, and accompanied by 
 Cardinal Caraffa; but as the heat was great, and the as- 
 cent was somewhat steep, upon reaching its summit, he 
 stopped for a few minutes to recover himself; which he 
 had hardly done when, putting his hand to his breast, 
 he found he had forgotten a gold chain and a medal- 
 lion, which latter contained a consecrated wafer. It was 
 his custom to wear this suspended to his neck, owing 
 to an astrologer's prediction that so long as he wore the 
 consecrated host, neither steel nor poison could affect 
 him. Deprived, therefore, of his talisman, he desired 
 Caraffa to return immediately to the Vatican, and bring 
 it to him without delay. Then, as the walk had made 
 him thirsty, still making signs of haste to the cardinal. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 207 
 
 he turned toward a servant, and desired him to bring 
 some wine ; and Cesare gave a similar order. Now, by 
 strange fatality, it happened that the butler had returned 
 to the Vatican for some fine peaches which had been 
 sent as a present to the Pope, and which he had forgot- 
 ten; the servant upon this spoke to the under-butler, 
 saying that his Holiness and the duke, being thirsty, 
 had desired some wine. Whereupon, observing two 
 bottles placed apart from the rest, and having heard 
 they were reserved for the Pope, he gave one to the ser- 
 vant, with two glasses upon a salver, and this wine the 
 Pope and his son took, without the slightest supposition 
 that it was of the vintage reserved for their guests. 
 
 In the mean time Caraifa had reached the palace, and, 
 familiar with its interior, entered the apartments of the 
 Pope, a candle in his hand, but unaccompanied by any 
 domestic. As he entered a corridor, the wind extin- 
 guished his light; but, directed as he had been where 
 to find the medallion, he advanced. Upon opening the 
 door of the room, he fell back with a cry of terror; for 
 before him, between the door and the table upon which 
 the chain was, he saw Alexander VI. stretched motion- 
 less and livid on a bier, at the four corners of which 
 were lighted flambeaux. He stood for a moment petri- 
 fied by fear, unable to advance or to retire; but, think- 
 ing it probably the effect of his imagination, or caused 
 by the agency of the Evil One, he made the sign of the 
 cross, whereupon all disappeared, and then, although a 
 cold sweat burst from every pore, he advanced to the 
 table, and returned with the medallion. He found the 
 guests assembled, and the Pope, who was extremely 
 pale, the moment he appeared, came forward to meet 
 him; but upon stretching out his hand to receive the 
 medallion, he fell back and uttered a loud cry, whicli 
 
208 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 was instantly followed by the most violent convulsions; 
 and a few minutes afterward, as he advanced to his 
 assistance , Cesare was seized with the same symptoms. 
 They were carried side by side to the Vatican, to their 
 separate apartments, and from that hour they never met 
 again. The Pope was now attacked by a violent fever, 
 which defied all the resources of medical skill, and ren- 
 dered requisite the administration of the last sacraments 
 of the Church; yet, owing to the excellence of his con- 
 stitution, he struggled for eight days against death, — 
 eight days of agony, at the expiration of which he died, 
 without once mentioning either Cesare or Lucrezia, the 
 two pivots upon which had revolved both his affections 
 and his crimes. He died at sixty-two, after a reign of 
 eleven years. 
 
 As for Cesare, whether he had taken less of the fatal 
 liquid than his father, or whether the strength of his 
 youth overcame the strength of the poison, or whether, 
 according to some, he had, upon reaching the Vatican, 
 immediately swallowed an antidote known only to him- 
 self, he was less violently affected. He did not, how- 
 ever, for a moment lose sight of his dangerous situation, 
 but summoned his faithful Michelotto , with those of his 
 men upon whom he could chiefly rely, and distributed 
 them throughout the anterooms, and ordered their chief 
 not to quit the foot of his bed, but to sleep upon his 
 coverlid with his hand upon the hilt of his sword. 
 
 The remedies adopted for Cesare were the same as 
 those for the Pope , except that they added extraordinary 
 baths, which Cesare had himself directed to be prepared, 
 having heard that in a similar case they had cured King 
 Ladislaus of Naples. Pour posts were erected in his 
 room, firmly fi.xed in the floor and ceiling, similar to 
 the machine used for shoeing horses; every day a bull 
 
THE BORGIAS. 209 
 
 ■was brought in, thrown upon its back, and tied by its 
 limbs to the posts. An incision was then made in its 
 stomach about one foot and a half in length, through 
 which the intestines were extracted, and Cesare then 
 entering, while the body yet palpitated with life, 
 enjoyed a bath of blood. He was then wrapped in 
 warm cloths, by which, after profuse perspiration, he 
 felt in general relieved. Every two hours, notwith- 
 standing his own state, he sent to inquire about the 
 Pope, and when he heard that he was dead, resuming 
 that energy and presence of mind which were habitual 
 to him, he desired Michelotto to close the doors of the 
 Vatican, and to allow no one admission to his apart- 
 ments until he was master of his father's gold and the 
 papers he had left. 
 
 Michelotto obeyed, and sought instantly the Cardinal 
 Casanova, placed a dagger at his throat, and made him 
 surrender the keys of the rooms and the cabinets of the 
 Pope; and, guided by him, he took away two chests 
 of gold, to the value of one hundred thousand Roman 
 crowns, and a great quantity of jewels, silver plate, and 
 precious vases, all of which were carried into Oesare's 
 apartments; the guards were then doubled, and the gates 
 of the Vatican being reopened, the death of the Pope 
 was announced. 
 
 This, although expected, nevertheless was a matter of 
 extreme dread to the city, for Cesare's state of health 
 kept every one in a fearful suspense. Had he indeed 
 been sitting sword in hand upon his war-horse, events 
 would never have appeared uncertain or indecisive ; but 
 he was confined to his bed, and although the thought 
 to plan remained, the power to execute was gone, and 
 he was obliged to submit and follow the course of 
 events, instead of governing circumstances by his will. 
 
 VOL. I. — 14 
 
210 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 The enemies he had most to fear were the Orsini and 
 Colonnas: the one family he had robbed of life, and the 
 other of possessions; he addressed himself, therefore, to 
 those to whom he could restore what he had taken, and 
 opened negotiations with the Colonnas. In the mean 
 time arrangements were made for the papal obsequies; 
 the vice-chancellor had summoned the different supe- 
 riors and minor orders of the clergy, on pain of being 
 deprived of their dignities, to repair in their respective 
 costumes to the Vatican, whence the body was to be 
 conveyed to St. Peter's for interment. They found 
 upon their arrival the body abandoned by every retainer, 
 for every Borgia, Cesare excepted, had concealed him- 
 self, — and wisely ; for shortly after, Fabio Orsino, 
 meeting one by chance, instantly stabbed him, and in 
 sign of the mortal hatred he had sworn, washed his 
 hands and mouth with his victim's blood. 
 
 So great was the excitement which prevailed at Eome 
 that at the moment when Alexander's body was borne 
 into the church, there arose one of those uncertain and 
 vague rumours which in times of commotion produce so 
 violent an effect upon the public feeling. The guards 
 drew up in order of battle, the clergy sought shelter in 
 the sacristy, and the Pope's body, from the fear of its 
 bearers, fell upon the steps, whilst, the people tearing 
 aside the coverings, all could gaze with impunity upon 
 him who but fifteen days since had been, from one 
 extremity of the world to the other, the cause of fear to 
 princes, kings, and emperors. Nevertheless, by impulse 
 of that religion of the grave which every one instinc- 
 tively feels, and which survives all other feelings, even 
 in the heart of the atheist, the body was taken up and 
 placed before the high altar, and there exposed to the 
 public view; but the Pope's body had become so black, 
 
THE BORGIAS. 211 
 
 so deformed and swollen, that it was fearful to gaze on, 
 and, owing to its rapid decomposition, no one now drew 
 nigh, to offer the last customary marks of religion and 
 respect. Toward seven in the evening, — that is, when 
 the decline of day adds its subduing spirit to the silence 
 of the church, — some workmen carried the body to the 
 chapel where it was to be interred, and, removing from 
 it the funeral decorations, placed it in a common niche 
 destined for its reception. On the morrow the following 
 was found written upon his tomb : — 
 
 " Vendit Alexander claves, altaria, Christum ; 
 Emerat ille prius, vendere jure potest." 
 
 " The keys, the altar, and his God he sold ; 
 He had a right to sell, who bought with gold." 
 
212 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 By the effect the death of Alexander produced at Eome, 
 we may estimate its influence, not on Italy only, but on 
 the world. For a moment Europe was shaken, as the 
 column which sustained the vault of the political edifice 
 crumbled into pieces, and the star around which all had 
 revolved was extinguished; and for an interval darkness 
 and silence prevailed. But as the feeling died away, all 
 who had an injury to avenge appeared, and rushed to the 
 quarry. The Orsini and other nobles obtained posses- 
 sion of their estates ; but the Eomagna remained faithful, 
 for the people had never been so happy as under the 
 government of Cesare. As for the Colonnas, they agreed 
 to remain neutral, having regained their estates in better 
 condition than prior to their expulsion, the Pope having 
 fortified and adorned them. 
 
 Cesare still remained writhing, like a wounded lion, 
 upon his bed of torture, protected by his troops, whilst 
 the cardinals, whose fears were subsiding, had begun to 
 assemble, either at the Minerva or at the palace of 
 Cardinal Caraffa. But, still alarmed at the forces 
 which remained under the command of Michelotto, they 
 raised at their own expense an army of two thousand 
 soldiers under Charles Taneo, with the title of Captain 
 of the Sacred College, hoping thus that peace would be 
 preserved, when they heard that the forces of Prospero 
 Colonna and of Eabio Orsino had entered Rome, at the 
 interval of one day only between the two arrivals, — 
 such was their mutual eagerness and rivalry. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 213 
 
 Thus five armies were encamped at Kome in presence 
 of one another : Cesare's, which held the Vatican and the 
 Borgo; the Bishop of Nicastro's, at the castle of San 
 Angelo, that of the Sacred College, and those of Prospero 
 Colonna and of Fabio Orsino, the one quartered at the 
 Capitol, the other at Eipetta. Thus situated, at the 
 instance of the cardinals the ambassadors of Germany, 
 France, Spain, and of Venice, assembled, and for the 
 purpose of insuring the public safety, ordered the Orsini, 
 the Colonnas, and the Due de Valentinois, to quit 
 Rome. The Colonnas and the Orsini obeyed; Cesare 
 alone remained. He was willing, he said, to go, 
 but upon conditions; and if they were refused, he 
 declared that, the cellars of the Vatican being mined, he 
 would blow himself up with those who advanced to 
 seize him. It was, therefore, agreed that he should 
 withdraw unmolested with his army, artillery, and mili- 
 tary stores, and that he should be supported by a troop 
 of four hundred infantry, in the pay of the Sacred 
 College, to enforce obedience to these terms. On his 
 part Cesare engaged to retire ten miles from Rome 
 during the sitting of the conclave, which was similarly 
 promised by Fabio Orsino and Prospero Colonna. 
 
 The duke quitted Eome by the gate of the Vatican ; 
 he reclined upon a bed covered with a scarlet canopy, 
 borne by twelve of his halberdiers. His lips were livid, 
 and his eyes bloodshot ; beside him was his drawn sword, 
 and near his litter his war-horse caparisoned in black 
 velvet with his arms emblazoned ; he was surrounded by 
 his troops with pikes and halberds elevated, but without 
 their customary music; thus an impressive funereal char- 
 acter was given to the procession, which at the gates of 
 the city was joined by Prospero Colonna, who awaited 
 it with a considerable force. Cesare's first thought wa.s 
 
214 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 that, faithless to his word, as he so frequently had been 
 to his, Colonna was about to attack him. Colonna, 
 perceiving this, immediately advanced toward his litter 
 unaccompanied, and offered to escort him, as he feared 
 some ambuscade on the part of Fabio Orsino, who had 
 sworn to avenge his father's death. Cesare thanked him, 
 but added that, Orsino being unsupported, he had 
 nothing to fear. Whereupon Colonna rejoined his troop 
 marching toward Albano, whilst Cesare took the road to 
 Citta Castellana. Here he was not only master of his 
 own lot, but the disposer of that of others. Twelve of 
 the twenty-two votes which he had in the Sacred College 
 had remained faithful, and as the conclave was in all com- 
 posed of thirty-seven cardinals, he was enabled by these 
 to incline the majority as he chose. He was consequently 
 courted by the Spanish party and the French, each 
 desiring to elect a pope from the cardinals of their nation. 
 He listened without promising, but finaUy bestowed them 
 upon Francesco Piccolomini, Cardinal of Sienna, who 
 had remaiiied his friend, and who was elected October 8, 
 as Pius I^T. BDe was not deceived: Pius III. im- 
 
 mediatel; ' , ter his election sent him a safe-conduct to 
 
 tS b -^ 
 
 return t T xiome, where the duke reappeared at the head 
 
 of two hundred and fifty men-at-arms, two hundred and 
 
 fifty light-horse, and eight hundred infantry. 
 
 The Orsini, still pursuing their projects of revenge, 
 
 llevied troops at Perugia and in its environs, to attack 
 
 Cesare even in the streets of Rome, whilst he in the 
 
 mean time had signed a new treaty with Louis XII., by 
 
 T*hich he engaged to maintain him in his conquest of 
 
 Naples, both with troops and in person, as soon as he 
 
 could remount his horse, Louis guaranteeing the domains 
 
 he now retained, and his aid to recover those of which he 
 
 had been dispossessed. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 215 
 
 The day when this treaty was published, Gonsalvo de 
 Cordova proclaimed, by sound of trumpet, the order for 
 every subject of the King of Spain to throw up his 
 engagements in every foreign army, under pain of high 
 treason. The duke was deprived by this measure of 
 twelve of his best officers, and nearly three hundred 
 soldiers. The Orsini upon this entered Rome supported 
 by the Spanish ambassador, and cited Cesare before the 
 Pope and the Sacred College, to answer for his crimes ; 
 but, faithful to his engagements, the Pope replied that as 
 a sovereign prince, and for his temporal government, 
 Cesare was answerable to God alone. Nevertheless, 
 aware that, despite his good-will, he could not long 
 protect him, he advised his endeavouring to effect a junc- 
 tion with the French, still advancing toward Naples, 
 imder whose protection he could alone remain in 
 safety. 
 
 Cesare resolved to retire to Bracciano, where Giovanni 
 Orsino, who alone of his family had not declared against 
 him, offered him an asylum in the name of Cardinal 
 Amboise ; he gave orders, therefore, one morning to his 
 troops to march toward that city, and, placing himself 
 amid them, quitted Rome. But although he had con- 
 cealed his resolution, the Orsini were aware of his design, 
 and pushed forward troops in puch a manner that upon 
 his arrival at Storta, the duke found the army drawn up 
 in battle array hi force very superior to his own. To 
 engage these Cesare felt was to rush into destruction; he 
 therefore ordered a retreat, which he conducted with such 
 ability as to re-enter Rome without the loss of a soldier. 
 He retired to the Vatican, to place himself more com- 
 pletely under the Pope's protection, and arranged his 
 soldiers so as to command all the outlets. 
 
 The Orsini, bent on Cesare's destruction, attacked him 
 
216 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 on all sides, without regard to the sacredness of the spot, 
 but in vain, so excellent were the discipline and tactics 
 of his troops. Unable to force the castle of San Angelo, 
 they hoped to have greater success by returning to the 
 attack at the gate Torione, but this movement had been 
 foreseen, and they found it barricaded and guarded. They 
 did not, however, abandon their design ; and, having sur- 
 prised the outposts, they set the gate on fire, and advanced 
 into the gardens of the castle, where Cesare awaited them, 
 at the head of his cavalry. 
 
 In the presence of danger, the duke's energies revived ; 
 he threw himself upon his enemies, caUing loudly upon 
 Orsino, in order to slay him if they met; but either 
 Orsino heard not the challenge, or declined the combat;' 
 so that, after an obstinate struggle, Cesare saw his un- 
 equally matched forces cut to pieces, and, notwithstanding 
 a display of the greatest personal courage, was obliged to 
 re-enter the Vatican. He found the Pope expiring ; tired 
 of a contest with him, upon his promise given to the Due 
 de Valentinois, the Orsini, through Pandolfo Petrucci, 
 had bribed the surgeon of his Holiness, who had placed 
 a poisoned plaster upon a sore in his leg. He was at the 
 point of death, when, pursued by his enemies, and cov- 
 ered with dust and blood, Cesare entered his apartments ; 
 the Pope raised himself in his bed, gave him the key of 
 the corridor, leading to the castle of San Angelo, and an 
 order to the governor to receive and defend him to the 
 last extremity, and to allow him to quit the fortress when 
 he desired. 
 
 Cesare took his daughters and the youthful dukes of 
 Sermoneta and of Nepi, and led them to the last refuge 
 which remained. The same night the Pope expired, 
 after a reign of only twenty-six days. At the moment 
 of his death, at about two in the morning, Cesare, who 
 
THE BORGIAS. 217 
 
 had thrown himself upon his bed, heard the door of his 
 room open, and not knowing what could cause this visit 
 at such an hour, he raised himself upon his side and 
 grasped his sword; but at a glance he recognised his 
 nocturnal visitor, — it was Giuliano della Eovere. Half- 
 consumed by poison, abandoned by his troops, fallen 
 from his high estate — he, who could do nothing for him- 
 self, could make a Pope ! Giuliano came to purchase his 
 votes. Cesare proposed the terms ; they were accepted. 
 Elected Pope, Giuliano should aid Cesare to recover his 
 estates; Cesare was to remain general of the Church; and 
 Francesco Maria deUa Eovere, Prefect of Eome, was to 
 marry one of Cesare's daughters. Upon these terms 
 Cesare sold his votes to Giuliano. 
 
 On the 31st of October, 1503, Giuliano deUa Eovere 
 was elected Pope ; and his first care upon his enthrone- 
 ment was to recall Cesare, who, now recovering his 
 health, began also to occupy himself with the recovery of 
 his domains and power. In fact, the defeat of his army, 
 his retreat to the castle of San Angelo, where he was 
 now supposed to be confined, had already produced great 
 changes in the Eomagna. All the towns of this extensive 
 district had either revolted or returned to the sway of 
 their former possessors, the citadels excepted, which in 
 all cases had remained faithful to the Due de Valentinois. 
 Thus it was not the defection of the towns, which might 
 readily be reconquered, that disturbed the Pope or Cesare, 
 but it was the claim of right that Venice had advanced 
 toward them; for, freed from her eternal enemies, the 
 Turks, Venice had begun to push her troops toward 
 the Eomagna, which she had always coveted, and had 
 placed them under the command of Jacopo Venieri, who 
 had failed in an attack upon Cesena, owing to the courage 
 of its citizens ; but this failure had been compensated by 
 
218 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the surrender of the fortresses of Val de Lamone, Fa- 
 enza, Firlempopoli, and of Eimini, which Pandolfo 
 Malatesta exchanged for the lordship of Citadella, in the 
 territory of Padua, and the rank of a Venetian noble. 
 
 Cesare now proposed to the Pope to make a tempo- 
 rary cession of his estates to him, that thus the respect 
 the Venetians bore to the papal authority might save the 
 cities from their attacks ; " but, " says Guicciardini, " the 
 Pope, in whom ambition, so natural to sovereigns, had 
 not entirely stifled every feeling of probity, declined it, 
 fearing to yield subsequently to the temptation of their 
 retention." Meanwhile, as the danger was urgent, he 
 proposed to Cesare to quit Rome, to embark at Ostia, 
 and proceed by sea to Spezzio, where Michelotto was to 
 join him at the head of one hundred men-at-arms and a 
 hundred light-horse, the remains of his splendid army, 
 and thence advance by land to Ferrara and Imola, where, 
 once arrived, he should sound his battle-cry, so that it 
 should be re-echoed throughout the Eomagna. It was 
 advice after Cesare's heart ; he instantly accepted it, and 
 the resolution was ratified by the decision of the Sacred 
 College. 
 
 Cesare felt at last free ; once more he anticipated the 
 pleasure of mounting his war-horse, and commanding an 
 army in the places where he had already fought; when, 
 upon reaching Ostia, he was overtaken by the cardinals 
 of Sorrento and Volterra, who now asked in the Pope's 
 name the cession of those very fortresses which three 
 days before he had declined. It arose from the circum- 
 stance that, the Venetians having made fresh conquests, 
 the Pope perceived Cesare's scheme to be the only one 
 that could arrest their further progress. But Cesare 
 now in his turn declined their cession ; distrustful of this 
 sudden change, and, fearful it might conceal some snare. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 219 
 
 he declared the Pope's request to be useless, since he 
 trusted to be in the Eomagna within eight days. On 
 the following morning, as he stepped on board the galley, 
 he was arrested in the Pope's name. Ifor a moment he 
 felt that he was lost. Well acquainted with the process 
 in such cases, he knew how short is the passage from the 
 prison to the tomb, — a passage which in his case would 
 be very simple, since, if the Pope willed, there was no 
 deficiency of pretexts to form a charge against him. But 
 the heart of Julius II. was of a temperament different 
 from his own, — sudden in anger, but open to clemency; 
 so that, upon his return to Rome in custody of his guards, 
 the irritation caused by his refusal had abated, and he 
 was received by the Pope in his palace with his accus- 
 tomed courtesy, although it was easy to perceive that he 
 was watched. 
 
 In return for this reception, Cesare consented to the 
 cession of the fortress of Cesena, as a town which, having 
 belonged to the Church, should revert to it; whereupon 
 the Pope, placing this act, signed by Cesare, in the 
 hands of Pietro Oviedo, ordered him to go and take 
 possession of the fortress in the name of the Holy See. 
 Pietro Oviedo obeyed, and, empowered by this act of 
 cession, he presented himself before Don Diego Chignone, 
 a Spanish condottiere, who held the fortress in the 
 duke's name; but, after perusing the paper, Don Chi- 
 gnone replied that, knowing his lord and master to be a 
 prisoner, it would be base for him to obey an order most 
 probably obtained by violence; and that as for the 
 bearer of it, he deserved death for having undertaken so 
 disgraceful a commission; and therefore he ordered his 
 soldiers to seize upon Oviedo, and throw him down from 
 the battlements, which order was obeyed upon the spot. 
 
 This act of fidelity proved nearly fatal to Cesare, for, 
 
220 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 upon hearing of the death of his officer, the Pope was so 
 excited that for the second time his prisoner gave him- 
 self up for lost; he was therefore the first to propose 
 terms, which were drawn up as a treaty, and rendered 
 valid hy a hull. By these Cesare was hound to cede 
 within forty days the fortresses of Cesena and of Ber- 
 tinoro, and to countersign the order for the surrender of 
 Forli, and this upon the guarantee of two hankers of Rome, 
 who were bound in a sum of fifteen thousand ducats, the 
 amount of the expenses which the governor alleged had 
 been incurred in the place upon the duke's account. 
 Upon his part, the Pope agreed to conduct Cesare to 
 Ostia under the guard only of the Cardinal St. Croix and 
 of- two officers, who should set him at liberty upon the 
 completion of his engagements ; but in case of their non- 
 fulfilment, Cesare would be reconducted to Rome, and 
 confined in the castle of San Angelo. 
 
 StUl, fearing that even after the cession of the for- 
 tresses Julius II. might violate his promise and detain 
 him prisoner, Cesare made application through the 
 Cardinals Borgia and Eemolino, who had retired to 
 Naples, for a pass to Gonsalvo de Cordova, and two 
 galleys to enable him to rejoin him; the safe-conduct 
 arrived, and a courier announced that the galleys would 
 not be long delayed. Upon this, and hearing that by 
 the duke's orders the governors of Cesena and of Berti- 
 noro had given up these fortresses to the captains of his 
 Holiness, the Cardinal St. Croix relaxed by degrees the 
 severity of his restraint, and permitted him, aware that 
 he would soon be set at liberty, to go out without a 
 guard. Pearful, therefore, of another detention at the 
 moment of his embarkation, he concealed himself in a 
 house bfivond the city walls, and at nightfall, mounting 
 a peasant's horse, he gained Nettuno, where, hiring a 
 
THE BORGIAS. 221 
 
 small bark, he set sail for Monte Dragone, and thence 
 reached Naples. Gonsalvo welcomed him with so much 
 cordiality that Cesare was deceived, and thought himself 
 safe at last. This confidence was redoubled when, upon 
 his relating his designs to Gonsalvo, having stated that he 
 trusted to gain Pisa, and thence to pass into the Eomagna, 
 Gonsalvo allowed him to enlist at Naples as many 
 soldiers as he desired, promising also two galleys to 
 enable him to embark with them. Thus deceived, he 
 remained six weeks at Naples, in daily communication 
 with Gonsalvo upon his plans. But the governor had 
 detained him only to gain time to acquaint the King of 
 Spain that his enemy was in his power; so that, confi- 
 dent even to the moment of his embarkation, all his 
 preparations made, Cesare returned to the castle to take 
 leave of Gonsalvo. 
 
 Gonsalvo received him with his usual courtesy, wished 
 him every prosperity, and embraced him at parting; but 
 at the gate of the castle, one of Gonsalvo's ofiicers, 
 named Nunc Compejo, arrested him in the name of 
 Ferdinand the Catholic. He was immediately carried to 
 prison, hopeless of all aid, for the only devoted friend he 
 now had was Michelotto, and he too had been arrested 
 at Pisa by orders of Julius II. The morning after his 
 arrest, May 27, 1504, he was taken on board a galley, 
 which set sail for Spain, where, upon his disembarkation, 
 he was confined in the castle of Medina-del-Campo. Ten 
 years subsequent to this, Gonsalvo, proscribed in his 
 turn, avowed at Loxa, upon his death-bed, that two 
 actions of his life then burdened his conscience, — the 
 one his treason toward Ferdinand, the other his betrayal 
 of Cesare. 
 
 The Due de Valentinois remained two years in prison, 
 always hoping that Louis XII. would reclaim him from 
 
222 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 his captors as a peer of Prance ; but the king, paralysed by 
 the loss of the battle of Garigliano, which deprived him 
 of the kingdom of Naples, was too much occupied with 
 his own to think of the interests of his cousin. He 
 began to despair, when, breaking one morning the loaf 
 supplied for his breakfast, he found therein a file, a 
 phial containing a narcotic liquid, and a note from 
 Michelotto, to acquaint him that, having escaped from 
 prison, he had followed him into Spain, and was now 
 concealed with the Count of Beneventuni, in the adjoin- 
 ing village ; he added that from the next day the count 
 and he would await his arrival every night upon the 
 road from the fortress to the village, with three fleet 
 horses, and that therefore it was for him to avail himself 
 of the means placed at his disposal. Thus, when the 
 world had abandoned the Duke of Eomagna, a sbirro 
 was faithful in misfortune. 
 
 Freedom was too great a boon for Cesare to neglect; 
 the same day he used the file upon the bars of the win- 
 dow, which opened upon an inner court, and had soon 
 so loosened it that it required but a slight blow to detach 
 it. But, besides that this was seventy feet from the 
 ground, the entrance to the court was by a private door 
 reserved for the governor, of which he alone had the key, 
 which never quitted his possession; here was then the 
 principal diificulty. But, prisoner as he was, he had 
 been invariably treated with the respect due to his rank, 
 dining every day with the commandant, who received 
 him at his table with the manners of a noble and courte- 
 ous gentleman. Don Manuel being also an old captain, 
 having honourably served King Ferdinand, whilst still 
 obeying his orders, yet felt a great respect for his pris- 
 oner, whose stories of his battles he listened to with 
 pleasure. He insisted that Cesare should sup as well as 
 
THE BORGIAS. 223 
 
 dine at his table, which hitherto he had refused fortu- 
 nately, as, owiug to this, he had been enabled to obtain 
 the tools supplied by Michelotto. Now it happened on 
 the day they were received, Cesare, going up to his 
 room, made a false step and sprained his foot; at the 
 dinner hour he tried to come down, but pretended to 
 suffer so much that he gave up the attempt. In the 
 morning he was no better; the governor visited him as 
 before, but, finding his prisoner low-spirited and wearied 
 by his solitude, he offered to come and sup with him. 
 Cesare accepted this offer very gratefully. 
 
 It was now for the prisoner to act the part of the host; 
 Cesare's manner was, therefore, animated and courteous; 
 and the governor, profiting by this circumstance, spoke 
 to him upon the subject of his arrest, and as an old 
 Castilian, for whom honour had still its charms, inquired 
 as to the truth of the imputed breach of faith of Ferdi- 
 nand and Gronsalvo. Cesare showed every willingness 
 to explain the matter, but indicated by a sign that the 
 servants should retire. This precaution appeared so nat- 
 ural that the governor desired them to withdraw. Cesare 
 filled his glass and that of the governor, and proposed 
 the health of the king. He then commenced his narra- 
 tive, but hardly had he done so ere the eyes of his host 
 became fixed as by magic, and he fell upon the table in a 
 profound sleep. ^ 
 
 ' The poison of the Borgias, according to contemporaneous 
 authors, was of two sorts, — the solid and the liquid. The first 
 was. a kind of white meal, almost impalpable, having the taste of 
 sugar, which was called cantarelle. Its composition is unknown. 
 The liquid (according to the accounts given of it) was prepared in 
 too singular a manner to be passed over in silence : we hut relate 
 what has been written, fearful that modern science may negative 
 the circumstances recorded. A bear was made to swallow a strong 
 dose of arsenic ; then, at the moment it began to act, he was sua- 
 
224 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 Upon the return of the servants, they found the two 
 guests one upon the other beneath the table ; which not 
 being an event sufficiently extraordinary to induce them 
 to pay any particular attention to it, they contented 
 themselves by carrying Don Manuel to his chamber, and 
 by placing Cesare upon his bed; then, closing the door 
 with the greatest care, they left the prisoner alone. Eor 
 a moment he remained motionless, as if plunged in the 
 deepest sleep; then, as he heard the steps echo in the 
 distance, he raised his head, glided from his bed, walked 
 toward the door, slowly, it is true, but without appearing 
 to suffer by the injury to his foot ; then raising his head 
 proudly, he seemed to breathe freely for the first time 
 since the departure of his keepers. 
 
 There was no time to lose; Cesare fastened the door 
 as firmly within as it was secured without; he put out 
 his lamp, opened the window, and removed its bars. 
 This done, he took off the bandages from his limb, tore 
 the curtains from his window and from his bed, and cut 
 them into strips, adding to this his sheets, table-cloth, 
 and napkias. By these he formed a kind of rope of 
 about sixty feet in length, with knots at intervals, tied it 
 firmly to the bar yet remaining in the window, and then 
 descended, grasping it firmly by his feet and hands. He 
 reached its extremity without an accident, but as he 
 hung by its last knot he sought in vain for the earth with 
 his feet, — the rope was too short. His situation was 
 fearful; the darkness of the night rendered it impossible 
 for him to ascertain the distance from the ground, and 
 his fatigue cut off all hopes of being able to reascend. 
 
 pended by his Mnd feet; convulsions quickly succeeded, and a 
 copious deadly stream of foam was discharged from the animal's 
 throat. It was this, collected in a silver plate, and kept in a bottle 
 hermetically sealed, that formed the liquid poison. 
 
THE BORGIAS. 225 
 
 He hesitated for a moment, let the cord go, and fell 
 about fifteen feet to the earth. His peril was too great 
 to permit his noticing a few contusions he had received ; 
 he arose immediately, and, guiding jhimself by the direc- 
 tion of his window, went direct to the door opening from 
 the court ; here he stopped, a cold sweat stood upon his 
 brow, for — whether he had forgotten it in his room or 
 had lost it in his fall he knew not — he had not the key ! 
 Recollecting himself, he was soon convinced that the lat- 
 ter was the only probable cause of its loss ; he therefore 
 traversed the court, endeavouring to find the place where 
 it could have fallen ; but the key was so small, and the 
 night so dark, that he almost despaired of success; but, 
 nevertheless, as upon this now depended his safety, he 
 redoubled every effort he had made. A door suddenly 
 opened, and a patrol advanced, preceded by torches ; he 
 now thought escape impossible, but, recollecting a cistern 
 which was behind him, he immediately plunged into it, 
 leaving his head only above the water, and anxiously 
 followed the movements of the soldiers, who passed 
 within a few steps of him, crossed the courtyard, and 
 disappeared through another door. Short as was the in- 
 terval, Cesare's eye had espied by the light of their 
 torches the key so long desired ; and hardly had the door 
 closed upon the soldiers when he was master of his 
 liberty. Halfway from the castle to the village two men 
 on horseback, with a horse ready saddled, met him; 
 these were the count and Michelotto ; Cesare grasped the 
 hands of both, and immediately galloped toward the 
 frontiers of Navarre, which he reached in three days, 
 and where he was warmly welcomed by the king, Jean 
 d'Albret, the brother of his wife. 
 
 From Navarre, Cesare had calculated on passing into 
 France, and thence, with the aid of Louis XII., on 
 vot. I. — 15 
 
226 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 making an attempt for the recovery of his estates in 
 Italy ; hut during his captivity the king had made peace 
 with Ferdinand of Spain; so that upon hearing of his 
 escape, instead of assisting him, as he had a right to 
 expect, he deprived him of the duchy of Valentinois and 
 of his annuity. But there yet remained to him two 
 hundred thousand ducats with the bankers of Genoa ; he 
 wrote to desire the transmission to him of this sum, with 
 which he hoped to raise some troops in Spain and 
 Navarre, and thus to attack Pisa. Five hundred men, 
 two hundred thousand ducats, his name, and his sword, 
 were more than was requisite still to justify the indul- 
 gence of hope. The bankers cenied the deposit. 
 
 Cesare was at the mercy of his brother-in-law. One 
 of the vassals of the King of Navarre had just then 
 revolted; Cesare assumed the command of the troops 
 that Jean d'Albret sent against him, followed by Miche- 
 lotto, the faithful companion of his prosperity and misfor- 
 tunes. Owing to his courage and excellent arrangements, 
 the Prince Alarino was at first defeated ; but, rallying his 
 forces soon after, he renewed the engagement. It was 
 obstinately maintained for nearly four hours, when, 
 toward dusk, Cesare wished to decide the battle by 
 charging himself at the head of a hundred men-at-arms, 
 against a corps of cavalry which formed the main force 
 of the enemy ; but, to his great surprise, they fled in the 
 direction of a little wood, wherein they seemed desirous 
 to take refuge. Cesare pursued them to its outskirts, 
 when suddenly they faced about, and three or four hun- 
 dred archers rushed from its coverts to their assistance. 
 Cesare's troops, perceiving that they had fallen into an 
 ambuscade, immediately fled, and basely abandoned their 
 commander. Though left alone, he would not recoil one 
 step; he had probably become weary of life, and his 
 
THE BORGIAS. 227 
 
 heroism was perchance as mucli the result of disgust as 
 courage. Whatever it might proceed from, he defended 
 himself like a lion at bay ; but, pierced with arrows and 
 crossbow bolts, his horse fell with him, and rolled over 
 upon his leg. His opponents immediately rushed upon 
 him, and one, thrusting at him with a sharp-pointed spear, 
 pierced his corselet, and ran him through the chest. 
 Cesare uttered a blasphemy agaiust Heaven, and died. 
 
 The enemy, however, owing to the courage of Miche- 
 lotto, was defeated; but, upon returning to the camp, he 
 heard from those who had deserted Cesare that he had 
 not since been seen. Too well assured, from the known 
 courage of his master, that he had fallen, he wished to 
 give the last sad proof of his attachment, by rescuing his 
 body from the wolves and birds of prey. He caused 
 torches to be lighted, and, accompanied by a dozen of 
 those who had pursued the cavalry with Cesare to the 
 wood, he commenced his search for his master's body. 
 On reaching the spot, they found five men lying dead 
 side by side ; four were yet in their armour, but the fifth 
 was entirely stripped. Michelotto alighted from his 
 horse, raised the head upon his knee, and by the light of 
 the torches recognised the Duke of Eomagna. Thus 
 fell, on the 10th of March, 1607, upon a field of battle 
 now unknown, near an obscure village called Viana, and 
 in a miserable skirmish with the vassals of a petty prince, 
 he whom Machiavelli has held up to the respect of 
 princes, as a model of address, of policy, and of valour. 
 
 Lucrezia, the beautiful Duchess of Ferrara, died full 
 of years and honours, adored by her subjects as a queen, 
 and addressed by Ariosto and Bembo as a goddess. 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-GEKAN. 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-GERAN. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Toward the close of the year 1639, a party of horse- 
 men arrived, about noon, in a little village at the ex- 
 tremity of Auvergne , from the direction of Paris. The 
 country people assembled at the noise, and recognised 
 the provost of the district and his attendants. The heat 
 was overpowering, the horses were wet with sweat, the 
 riders were covered with dust, and appeared to be return- 
 ing from some important expedition. One of the escort, 
 detaching himself from the rest, inquired of an old 
 woman, who was spinning at her door, whether there 
 was any inn in the place. This woman and the children 
 pointed out to him a sign hanging above a door, at the 
 bottom of the only street in the village ; and the party 
 once more put itself in motion. Among these horse- 
 men was observed a young man of noble mien, richly 
 dressed, who appeared to be a prisoner. This discovery 
 redoubled the curiosity of the crowd, and the peasants 
 followed the cavalcade to the door of the inn. The 
 landlord came forward, cap in hand, and the provost 
 demanded of him, with an air of authority, if his paltry 
 town was sufllciently large to accommodate his party, 
 man and beast. The host replied that he had the best 
 
232 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 wine in the country to offer to his Majesty's servants, 
 and. that there would be no difficulty in collecting in 
 the neighbourhood sufficient litter and provender for 
 their horses. The provost listened with an air of in- 
 credulity to these magnificent promises, gave the neces- 
 sary orders to his followers as to how they should dispose 
 of themselves, and dismounted from his horse with a 
 muttered oath, drawn from him by the heat and fatigue. 
 The horsemen placed themselves closely round the j'oung 
 man; one held his stirrup, and the provost made way 
 for him with deference as he entered the inn. There 
 could be no further doubt that he was a prisoner of im- 
 portance, and every one began to wonder who he could 
 be. The men asserted that it must have been some great 
 crime for which a young gentleman of such quality had 
 been permitted to be arrested; the women, on the con- 
 trary, maintained that it was impossible that any one 
 with so noble an air should be otherwise than innocent. 
 
 In the interior of the inn all was in an uproar : the 
 assistants hurried from cellar to garret ; the host swore 
 and despatched his servants to the neighbours; while 
 the hostess scolded her daughter, who remained motion- 
 less at the window of the little parlour, gazing at the 
 handsome young man. 
 
 There were two tables in the principal room of the 
 village inn. The provost went to the one, and gave up 
 the other to the soldiers, who left the room, one by one, 
 to look to their horses, stabled in a shed in the court- 
 yard; he then seated himself on a stool, opposite the 
 prisoner, and, striking the table with his heavy cane, 
 commenced a conversation with him. 
 
 "Ah! " cried he, with a groan of weariness, " I ask 
 your pardon. Monsieur le Marquis, for the miserable 
 wine I am compelled to offer you." 
 
" Then, turning to the young girl , he gaily drank 
 her health." 
 
 Photo- Etching. — From Painting by Edmund Garrett. 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 233 
 
 The young man smiled gaily. 
 
 " The wine matters not, Monsieur le Pr^v6t," he 
 answered, " but I do not conceal from you that I regret 
 our halt ; for, however entertained I may be with your 
 company, I am in haste to escape from my ridiculous 
 situation, and anxious to reach our destination, the 
 sooner to put a stop to this foolish affair." 
 
 The host's daughter, who was approaching the table, 
 carrying a pewter pot, fixed her eyes at these words upon 
 the prisoner, with a satisfied look which seemed to say, 
 " I knew that he was innocent. " 
 
 "However," continued the marquis, raising his glass 
 to his lips, " this wine is not so bad as you say, Mon- 
 sieur le Prevot. " 
 
 Then, turning to the young girl, who was staring at 
 his gloves and embroidered ruff, he gaily drank her 
 health. 
 
 " But, " said the provost, who was astonished at tills 
 easy indifference, " I trust you will excuse your poor 
 accommodation for the night." 
 
 " What! " said the marquis, " are we to sleep here ? " 
 
 "Monsieur," replied the provost, "we have sixteen 
 long leagues to go ; our horses are knocked up ; and as 
 forme, I declare to you that I am no better than my 
 horse." 
 
 The marquis beat impatiently upon the table, and 
 showed all the signs of great vexation. The provost, 
 in the mean time, sighed with pain, stretched out his 
 immense boots, and wiped his forehead with his hand- 
 kerchief. He was big and pursy, with a puffed-up face, 
 and not made for the endurance of more than ordinary 
 fatigue. 
 
 "Monsieur le Marquis," he continued, "although 
 your company, to return your compliments, is very 
 
234 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 agreeable to me, you cannot doubt that I wish to enjoy 
 it upon a better footing. If it is in your power, as you 
 say, to deliver yourself from the hands of the law, it is 
 my fervent desire that you may soon do so. But I 
 beseech you to consider in what a state we are. Eor 
 my part, it is impossible that I can continue in the 
 saddle one hour longer to-day; and you yourself, are you 
 not oppressed with this long ride in such hot weather? " 
 
 " I must confess that I am, " said the marquis, affect- 
 ing to let his arms fall wearily to his side. 
 
 " Well, then, let us rest here for the night; we will 
 sup, if we can, and start again to-morrow, with renewed 
 strength, in the freshness of the morning." 
 
 " So let it be, then," replied the marquis; "but let 
 us pass the time in a creditable way. Here are two 
 pistoles, for these brave fellows to drink with. It is 
 but right that they should regale at my expense, since 
 it is on my account they have so much trouble." 
 
 He threw two pieces of gold upon the soldiers' table, 
 who shouted in chorus, " Long live the marquis! " The 
 provost rose, went out to post sentinels, and thence 
 returned to the kitchen, where he ordered the best 
 supper that could be obtained. The soldiers procured 
 dice, and began playing and drinking. The marquis 
 hummed a tune, curling his moustache, pirouetting 
 round the room, and looking here and there, i;n observed 
 by them ; then , drawing softly a purse from a concealed 
 part of his dress, as the girl of the house came and went, 
 he threw his arms around her neck as if to embrace her, 
 and, sliding ten louis into her hand, he whispered in 
 her ear, " The key of the outer door in my chamber, and 
 a couple of bottles to the sentinels, will save my life." 
 
 The girl drew back to the door, and returned an ex- 
 pressive look, seeming to say yes to his request. The 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G£RAN. 235 
 
 provost came in, and two hours afterward the supper 
 was ready. He ate and drank like a man who can sup- 
 port fatigue better at table than on horseback. The 
 marquis plied him with bumpers, and, sleep aiding the 
 fumes of some tolerably strong wine, he began to nod 
 and half close his eyes. 
 
 " Morhleu ! Monsieur le Marquis, I cannot believe 
 you to be such a great villain as they say; you seem to 
 me ratlier to have the air of a good fellow. " 
 
 The marquis thought him quite drunk, and began to 
 coax tlie girl of the house; but, to his great disappoint- 
 ment, when the hour came for him to retire, the provost 
 summoned his sergeant, gave him his instructions in a 
 low voice, and declared loudly that he would himself 
 have the honour to conduct M. le Marquis to his bed- 
 room, and that he would not go to rest until he had 
 rendered him that duty. Accordingly, with three of 
 his men carrying lights, he accompanied the marquis to 
 his room, and, having made himself perfectly acquainted 
 with its situation, he left him with ceremonious respect. 
 
 The marquis threw himself, booted as he was, upon 
 his bed, and listened to a clock which was striking 
 nine. He heard the noise of the horsemen, moving to 
 and fro in the stables and the courtyard. 
 
 An hour later, however, as every one was fatigued, 
 all had sunk into silence. Then the prisoner softly 
 rose, and, groping along, sought upon the chimney, the 
 table, and in the pockets of his clothes, for the key 
 which he expected to find. It was not there. Never- 
 theless, he could not be mistaken in the tender interest 
 of the young girl ; he could not believe that she had 
 been making game of him. The marquis's chamber had 
 a window which looked out upon the street, and a door 
 opening upon a crazy wooden gallery, which formed the 
 
236 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 balcony, and from which the staircase descended through 
 the most frequented rooms of the house. This gallery 
 extended along the courtyard, at the same height from 
 the ground as the window. The marquis's only alter- 
 native, therefore, was to leap either from the one or 
 the other, and he remained a long time in doubt which 
 course to adopt. He had almost made up his mind to 
 throw himself into the street, at the risk of breaking 
 his neck, when a gentle knock was heard at the door. 
 He started with joy, and as he opened it said, " I am 
 saved." An indistinct shadow glided into the room; 
 it was the girl, trembling in every limb; she had not 
 the power of uttering a word. The marquis reassured 
 her by his caresses. 
 
 "Ah, monsieur," said she, "I shall die if they dis- 
 cover me." 
 
 "But," answered the marquis, "your fortune is made 
 if you effect my escape. " 
 
 " God is my witness that I would do so with all my 
 heart ; but I have such bad news — " 
 
 She stopped, overwhelmed with conflicting emotions. 
 The poor girl had come to him with bare feet, fearful 
 of the noise of her shoes being heard, and was shivering 
 with cold and terror. 
 
 " What is it ? " inquired the marquis, impatiently. 
 
 " Before he went to bed, " continued she , " the provost 
 ordered my father to deliver to him all the keys in the 
 house, and made him swear a solemn oath that he had 
 retained none. My father has given him all; and, 
 more than that, there is a sentinel placed at every door 
 of the house; but they are very tired. I overheard 
 them murmuring, and I gave them more wine than you 
 told me." 
 
 "They will fall asleep," said the marquis; "and, at 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 237 
 
 any rate, it is a great piece of good fortune that they 
 have granted to my quality the privilege of not holting 
 me into this room. " 
 
 " There is," said the girl, " a passage from the garden, 
 leading into the fields, which is closed only by a gate of 
 no great strength ; hut — " 
 
 " Where is my horse ! " 
 
 " In the stable, doubtless, with the others." 
 
 " I shall jump into the yard." 
 
 " You will kill yourself. " 
 
 "So much the better! " 
 
 " Ah! Monsieur le Marquis, what can you have 
 done ? " said the girl , sadly. 
 
 "Trifles! hardly anything; but for which they will 
 take away my life and my honour. I must lose no more 
 time; I am decided." 
 
 " Stay," cried the girl, catching him by the arm; " at 
 one corner of the yard there is a large heap of straw; 
 the gallery runs above it — " 
 
 " Admirable ! I shall make less noise, and do myself 
 less injury. " 
 
 He made a step as if to depart ; the young girl, with- 
 out knowing what she did, endeavoured to prevent him, 
 but, disengaging himself from her hold, he opened the 
 door of his room. The moon was shining brightly 
 upon the yard, and not a sound was to be heard. He 
 advanced nearly to the end of the wooden balustrade, 
 and discovered the dunghill, which was of considerable 
 height; the girl made the sign of the cross. The mar- 
 quis listened attentively, and, hearing nothing, mounted 
 upon the balustrade. He was about to jump, when 
 suddenly deep, muttered voices came upon his ear. 
 They proceeded from two horsemen, who were convers. 
 ing together over a bottle of wine. The marquis held 
 
238 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 his breath as he regained his door, where the girl was 
 waiting upon the threshold. 
 
 "I told you before that it was not yet time," said 
 she to him. 
 
 " Have you a knife," said the marquis, " that I may 
 ^lant it in the throats of these rascals ? " 
 
 " Wait, I beseech you, wait one hour, only one hour," 
 murmured the girl, "and in that time they will be 
 asleep." 
 
 The hour passed, and the marquis once more opened 
 the door. He heard no sound but the distant baying of 
 dogs in the adjacent country, breaking the deep silence. 
 He leant over the balustrade, and distinctly saw a sol- 
 dier lying, with his face to the ground, upon some straw. 
 
 " Should they awake ? " whispered the girl, with 
 emotion. 
 
 "At all events, they shall not retake me alive; be 
 calm," said the marquis. 
 
 "Farewell, then," said the sobbing girl, "and may 
 Heaven protect you! " 
 
 He mounted the balustrade, crouched down for a 
 moment, and dropped upon the straw. 
 
 The girl saw him run to the shed, saddle a horse, 
 mount it, pass behind the walls of the stable, rush 
 through the garden, spur his horse against the barrier, 
 overturn it, and gain the open country. 
 
 The poor girl stood transfixed at the end of the gal- 
 lery, with her eyes fixed upon the sleeping horseman, 
 ready to disappear at the slightest movement. The 
 noise of the spurs upon the pavement, and the horse's 
 hoofs at the bottom of the court, had half roused him. 
 He started up, and, fearing some surprise, ran to the 
 stable. His horse was not there; the marquis, in the 
 haste with which he fled, had taken the first that came, 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-GERAN. 239 
 
 and it happened to be this soldier's. He immediately 
 gave the alarm, and his comrades awoke. Running to 
 the prisoner's room, they found it empty. The provost 
 was roused from his bed, confused and irritated. The 
 prisoner was gone. The girl, who pretended to have 
 just risen in consequence of the noise, impeded the prep- 
 arations, concealed the harness, and, under pretext of 
 assisting the horsemen, did everything in her power to 
 delay them ; nevertheless, in a quarter of an hour tho 
 whole troop were in full pursuit. The best horses took 
 the lead, and the sentinel, who had mounted the mar- 
 quis's horse, and had the greatest interest in the capture 
 of the prisoner, having been the principal cause of his 
 escape, advanced considerably before his companions. 
 He was followed by the sergeant, equally well mounted; 
 and as they could see, from the height, by which way 
 he had flown, in a few minutes the fugitive, although at 
 a great distance, was in view. 
 
 The marquis meanwhile lost ground ; the horse upon 
 which he was mounted was the worst in the troop, and 
 he had already pushed it to its utmost speed. Turning 
 round, he saw the soldiers within gunshot of him. In 
 vain he attempted to spur his horse to increased exer- 
 tion; breathless and exhausted, it stumbled and fell. 
 The marquis rolled with it upon the ground, but, in 
 the act of falling, he grasped the saddle, and perceived 
 for the first time that the holsters were furnished with 
 pistols ; he remained lying by the horse as if insensible, 
 with a loaded pistol in his hand. The man who was 
 mounted upon his own valuable steed, and who was 
 about two hundred paces in advance of his sergeant, was 
 the first that came up. The marquis rose, and, before 
 he had time to make any defence, shot him through the 
 bead; the horseman fell, and in an instant the marquis 
 
240 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 had thrown himself upon his own horse, without put- 
 ting his foot in the stirrup, spurred it into a gallop, and 
 disappeared like an arrow, leaving the sergeant about 
 fifty paces behind him, thunderstruck at what he saw. 
 
 The rest of the party came up at a gallop, and, seeing 
 the soldier lying in the road, cried out that he was 
 taken. The provost shouted to them, with a stento- 
 rian voice, not to kill him; but, on reaching the spot, 
 they discovered that it was the sergeant endeavouring 
 to succour the unfortunate soldier, whose skull was 
 horribly fractured, and who had been killed on the 
 spot. 
 
 By this time the marquis was out of sight; fearful of 
 a new pursuit, he had struck into a crossway, on which 
 he proceeded for an hour without drawing bridle. Hav- 
 ing almost cleared the boundaries of the district, and 
 being convinced that, by this time, he was beyond the 
 reach of his poorly mounted pursuers, he resolved to 
 halt, to refresh his horse. He was riding through a 
 narrow path, when he saw a peasant advancing toward 
 him; throwing him a sou, he inquired of him the way 
 to the Bourbonnais. The man picked up the money, 
 and replied to his question, but appeared hardly to 
 know what he was saying, and gazed earnestly at him 
 with an amazed countenance. The marquis ordered 
 him to pass on his way ; but the peasant planted him- 
 self in the middle of the path, and would not move a 
 step. The marquis advanced upon him in a menacing 
 manner, and asked him how he dared have the insolence 
 to gaze at him in that manner ? 
 
 The peasant, by way of reply, pointed to the shoulder 
 and collar of the fugitive, who now observed for the 
 first time that his doublet was soiled with blood, which, 
 joined to his disordered dress, and the mud with which 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 241 
 
 he was covered, gave him a sufficiently frightful 
 appearance. 
 
 " I know what it is, " said he ; " my servant and my- 
 self were separated this morning in an encounter we had 
 with some drunken Germans; and whether it be that I 
 am a little scratched, or that, in collaring one of the 
 rascals, I have transferred some of his blood to my own 
 clothes, 1 know not, except that this comes of the prank. 
 However, I do not feel at all the worse." 
 
 So saying, he affected to laugh heartily. 
 
 "Nevertheless," continued he, "I should have no 
 objection to make myself decent; and I am exhausted 
 with thirst and heat; my horse, too, is no better off 
 than myself. Can you inform me where I can refresh 
 myself?" 
 
 The peasant offered him the use of his own house, 
 which was at no great distance. A woman and her chil- 
 dren, who were working, discontinued their labours, 
 from respect, and went in search of the refreshments he 
 required; wine, water, and fruit, together with a large 
 piece of black bread, were set before him. The mar- 
 quis sponged his doublet, drank a deep draught, and, 
 calling the people of the house, began to question them 
 with apparent indifference. He again obtained infor- 
 mation as to the various roads which led to the Bour- 
 bonnais, whither he was travelling to take refuge with 
 a relative, — the different villages, cross-roads, and dis- 
 tances; and, from speaking of the country, the crops, 
 and such matters, he proceeded to inquire if anything of 
 importance had lately occurred in the neighbourhood. 
 
 The peasant replied that " he was astonished there 
 should have been an encounter upon a road which was 
 at that time covered with soldiers, who were about to 
 make an important capture." 
 
 VOL. I. — 16 
 
242 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 " Who is it ? " inquired the marquis. 
 
 " Oh! " said the peasant, " it is a gentleman accused 
 of great crimes." 
 
 " What ! a gentleman in the hands of justice ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, and who stands a good chance of losing 
 his head ! " 
 
 " What has he done 1 " 
 
 " Oh, the most abominable things! The whole coun- 
 try is in a ferment about it. " 
 
 " Do you know him 1 " 
 
 " No ; but we have his description." 
 
 As this information was rather alarming, the marquis, 
 after having asked some further questions of the same 
 sort, and thrown some silver to the peasant, mounted 
 his horse, and disappeared in the direction pointed out 
 to him. 
 
 The provost had advanced by this time half a league 
 farther, although he knew the pursuit to be all but 
 hopeless; he despatched one of the soldiers with direc- 
 tions that descriptions of the fugitive, and orders for 
 his apprehension, might be sent to all quarters of the 
 province, and returned himself to the village from which 
 he had started. Some of the marquis's kinsmen lived in 
 that neighbourhood, and he thought it probable that he 
 would conceal himself with them. The whole village 
 ran out to meet the returning party, who were com- 
 pelled to confess that they had been outwitted by the 
 handsome prisoner. The country people received this 
 intelligence with different feelings, and it occasioned a 
 great sensation. The provost returned to the inn in 
 high ill-humour, striking his fist on the table, and vent- 
 ing his spleen upon everybody that came in his way; 
 while the girl of the house, relieved from the most 
 torturing anxiety, could hardly conceal her joy. 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G£RAN. 243 
 
 The provost threw his papers upon the table, as if to 
 nourish his vexation. 
 
 " The greatest rascal in the world ! " he cried. " Why 
 was I not more suspicious ? " 
 
 " He had such a nohle air ! " said the hostess. 
 
 " An infernal villain! Do you know who he is ? He 
 is the Marquis de Saint-Maixent." 
 
 "The Marquis de Saint-Maixent!" cried she, with 
 horror. 
 
 " Yes," replied the provost, "the Marquis de Saint- 
 Maixent, accused, and almost convicted, of uttering 
 false money and of sorcery." 
 
 " Ah ! " 
 
 " Guilty of the crime of incest! " 
 
 " Good heavens! " 
 
 " Of having strangled his wife in order to marry 
 another woman, whose husband he had formed a scheme 
 to assassinate ! " 
 
 " The saints preserve us ! " 
 
 All crossed themselves. 
 
 "Yes, good people," continued the furious provost, 
 " this is the amiable nobleman who has made his escape 
 from the punishment due to his crimes." 
 
 " And is there no hope of catching him ? " inquired 
 the host. 
 
 " But little, I fear, if he has taken the road to the Bour- 
 bonnais ; for in that province there are many noblemen 
 of his family, who will not suffer him to be retaken." 
 
 The fugitive, in fact, was no other than the Marquis 
 de Saint-Maixent, who was accused of all the enormous 
 crimes laid to his charge by the provost, and who, by 
 his audacious flight, rendered himself once more able to 
 take an active part in the strange story which we have 
 yet to relate. 
 
244 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 A FORTNIGHT after these events, a horseman rang the 
 bell of the chg,teau de Saint-Geran, in the neighbour- 
 hood of Moulins. The hour was late, and the inmates 
 did not seem in haste to open the gate. The stranger 
 kept the bell in motion, as if he had been master of the 
 ch&teau, and at last saw a man running toward him from 
 the bottom of the avenue. The servant reconnoitred 
 him through the grate, and being able, in the dusk of 
 the evening, to distinguish only a disordered traveller, 
 with clothes covered with mud, and no sword, inquired 
 of him what he wanted. The stranger replied, coolly, 
 that he wished to see the Comte de Saint-Geran, and 
 that he was in haste. The servant informed him that it 
 was impossible ; upon which the stranger grew angry. 
 
 " Who are you ? " inquired the domestic. 
 
 "Fool! " cried the horseman, "have done with your 
 nonsense! Go to M. de Saint-Geran, and tell him that 
 the Marquis de Saint-Maixent, his kinsman, wishes to 
 see him immediately." 
 
 The servant was profuse in his apologies, opened the 
 gate, and then hastened in advance of the marquis. He 
 proceeded to announce his arrival to the master of the 
 ch9,teau. The count was going to supper when thus 
 interrupted; he immediately rose to receive the mar- 
 quis, embraced him several times, and gave him a most 
 friendly reception. He wished to hurry him immedi- 
 ately into the supper-room, and to introduce him to his 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G£RAN. 245 
 
 family ; but the marquis pointed out to him the state of 
 his dress, and begged to be allowed a few minutes to 
 put himself in order. The count conducted him to his 
 apartment, where he made him dress himself from head 
 to foot in his clothes, and whilst so doing, they entered 
 into conversation. The marquis told some story, we 
 know not what, relative to the accusation against him. 
 But whatever it was, the count continued to testify 
 great interest in behalf of his kinsman, who found that 
 he might calculate upon the chateau de St. Saint-Geran 
 as a place of refuge. When he had finished dressing, he 
 followed the count, who introduced him to the countess 
 and the rest of the family. 
 
 It is now necessary that we make our readers ac- 
 quainted with the inmates of the ch§,teau; and, in order 
 to render the following circumstances more intelligible 
 to them, that we go back to certain circumstances which 
 preceded the commencement of our story. 
 
 The Marechal de Saint-Geran, of the noble house of 
 Guiche, and governor of the Bourbonnais, had married 
 Anne de Tournon, by whom he had a son, Claude de la 
 Guiche, and a daughter, who married the Marquis de 
 Bouille. On the death of his wife he entered into a 
 second marriage with Suzanne aux Epaules, who in like 
 manner was the widow of the Comte de Longaunay, to 
 whom she had given a daughter, Suzanne de Longaunay. 
 
 The marshal and his lady, Suzanne aux Epaules, for 
 the mutual advantage of their first children, resolved to 
 make a match between them; and, accordingly, Claude 
 de la Guiche, son of the marshal, was married to 
 Suzanne de Longaunay. 
 
 This proceeding gave great vexation to the Marquise 
 de Bouille, the marshal's daughter, who was living in 
 
246 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 seclusion with her mother-in-law; besides being, as she 
 said, married to a man who gave her great cause of 
 complaint, and whose only good quality was that he was 
 seventy years of age. 
 
 The contract of marriage between Claude de la 
 Guiche and Suzanne de Longaunay was executed at 
 Eouen, on the 17th of February, 1619; but, owing to 
 the extreme youth of the bridegroom, who was yet 
 scarcely eighteen, he was sent on his travels to Italy. 
 He returned at the ond of two years; and, had it not 
 been for the want of offspring, their marriage would 
 have been, in every point of view, a most happy one. 
 The countess was much aiiflicted on account of this ste- 
 rility, which threatened the extinction of a great name 
 and a noble family. She made vows and pilgrimages, 
 consulted physicians and empirics ; but all in vain. 
 
 The Marechal de Saint-Geran died on the 30th of 
 December, 1632, full of disappointment at not having 
 any descendants from the marriage of his son. Claude, 
 now Comte de Saint-Geran, succeeded his father in the 
 government of the Bourbonnais. 
 
 In the mean time, the Marquise de Bouille had been 
 separated, by divorce, from the old marquis her hus- 
 band, and had taken up her residence at the ch§,teau de 
 Saint-Geran, very much encouraged by the results of 
 her brother's marriage, whose whole wealth she would 
 succeed to in the event of his leaving no other heir, 
 which at present seemed more than probable. 
 
 It was in this state of affairs that the Marquis de 
 Saint-Maixent arrived at the chateau. Being young, 
 handsome, lively, and agreeable, he found great favour 
 in the eyes of the ladies, and even succeeded in pleasing 
 the widow of the deceased Marechal de Saint-Geran, 
 who was living with her children. He soon saw plainly, 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 247 
 
 too, that he and the Marquise de Bouille understood 
 each other. 
 
 The fortune of the Marquis de Saint-Maixent was 
 much impaired — almost ruined, indeed — by dissipa- 
 tion and judicial proceedings. The marchioness was 
 the apparent heiress of the count; he calculated upon 
 the speedy death of her husband; and the life of an old 
 septuagenarian was not a sufficient obstacle to embarrass 
 the plans of such a man as the marquis. He resolved to 
 marry the marchioness, and thus become the wealthiest 
 man in the province. 
 
 He began, therefore, to pay her all the attentions in 
 his power, without exciting the suspicions of the rest 
 of the family. It was, however, extremely difficult to 
 make himself understood by the marchioness without 
 drawing other eyes upon him. But she, being already 
 prepossessed by his agreeable person, quickly under- 
 stood him, though they had very few opportunities for 
 confidential intercourse. The countess innocently took 
 part in their conversations. The count frequently carried 
 away the marquis to hunting-parties, and they generally 
 spent the day together. M. de Saint-Maixent had not 
 yet said that which every virtuous woman should be 
 deaf to; and in spite of his manoeuvres the intrigue 
 crept but slowly on. 
 
 The countess, notwithstanding the lapse of twenty 
 years, still clung to the hope that her prayers for an 
 heir to her husband's name would be granted to her. 
 She had. confided, with unwearied credulity, in all sorts 
 of quacks, who in those days obtained belief, even from 
 people of quality. At one time she sent for a kind of 
 astrologer from Italy, who, by the use of some horrible 
 medicine, almost succeeded in poisoning her, and was 
 obliged to fly for refuge to his own country, too happy 
 
248 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 to escape so easily. This affair drew upon Madame de 
 Saint-Geran the serious remonstrances of her confessor; 
 till at length, by the assistance of time, she became 
 accustomed to the painful conviction that she would 
 never have a child, and sought consolation in the duties 
 of religion. The count, who treated her with unvary- 
 ing tenderness, had long since given up the hope of an 
 heir, and had made his will accordingly. The expecta- 
 tions of the marchioness were now changed into cer- 
 tainty; and M. de Saint-Maixent, perfectly secure on 
 his part, did not hesitate any longer with regard to his 
 intentions respecting Madame de Bouill^. Such was 
 the state of affairs when, about the end of November, 
 1640, the Comte de Saint-Geran was compelled, by some 
 affairs of moment, to set off with all speed to Paris. 
 
 The countess, who could not endure the thought of 
 being separated from her husband, proposed that she 
 should accompany him. The marquis, delighted with 
 the opportunity which would leave him almost alone in 
 the chateau with Madame de Bouille, represented the 
 journey to Paris in such glowing colours that every one 
 decided in favour of the plan. The marchioness, on 
 her part, had been manoeuvring with the same object. 
 It was agreed, therefore , that the countess should accom- 
 pany her husband; and, after a few days of preparation, 
 they departed upon their journey. 
 
 The marquis had now no hesitation in disclosing his 
 passion to its fullest extent, and found no difficulty in 
 securing the hold which he already had upon Madame 
 de Bouill^. He affected the most violent love, and she 
 fully responded to his advances. They escaped the 
 observation of the domestics by long walks, and would 
 often pass the whole day in some retired corner of the 
 park, or shut up in the apartments of the ch&teau. But 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 249 
 
 it was impossible that these doings should not give rise 
 to certain rumours among a host of servants j and, accord- 
 ingly, such rumours soon began to circulate. 
 
 The marchioness found it necessary to gain over, by 
 means of bribes, her waiting-maids, — two sisters, of 
 the name of Quinet. She had no great difficulty in 
 effecting this object, for they were both devoted to her 
 person. This was the first degradation of Madame de 
 Bouille, and the first step in the corruption of her crea- 
 tures, who from this time became deeply engaged in a 
 most infamous conspiracy. There was at the chateau de 
 Saint-Geran an upper servant, a pompous, self-conceited 
 personage, with just sufficient intelligence to be able to 
 execute a bad action without the ability to devise one. 
 This man was placed in authority over all the other ser- 
 vants; originally a poor peasant, whom the marshal had 
 taken into his service, he had been promoted by the 
 count, step by step, to the post of steward, on account 
 of his long service in the family. He was thus, in the 
 count's absence, left in charge of the servants and estab- 
 lishment. The marquis took this man apart, sounded 
 him cunningly, gave him money, and gained him over 
 completely. These several agents undertook to stop the 
 gossip of the servants' hall ; and from that time the lov- 
 ers were able to carry on their intrigue without restraint. 
 
 One evening, as M. de Saint-Maixent and the mar- 
 chioness were at supper tete-a-tete, they heard a loud 
 ringing at the gate of the chateau, and presently a 
 noise, to which they did not at first pay much attention. 
 In the mean time a courier, who had arrived express 
 from Paris, had already dismounted in the courtyard, 
 with a letter from the Comte de Saint-G^ran to the 
 marquis. He was brought into the room, followed by 
 nearly the whole establishment. The marquis inquired 
 
250 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the meaning of the turmoil, and made a sign of dismissal 
 to the crowd of domestics ; but the courier exclaimed 
 that M. le Comte had given orders that the letter of 
 which he was the bearer should be read to the whole 
 house. The marquis opened it without reply, ran his 
 eye over the contents, and, without the least alteration 
 of manner, read it in a distinct and loud voice. The 
 count announced to his good kinsfolk, and to his whole 
 house, that the countess had at length shown the usual 
 symptoms of being enceinte; that almost immediately 
 upon her arrival at Paris these signs had begun to show 
 themselves; and that there remained in the minds of 
 the medical men no doubt as to her situation ; that, as 
 to himself, he was in the greatest joy at this event, 
 which had ever been the height of his wishes. He 
 directed, therefore, that all sorts of rejoicings should be 
 immediately commenced; informed them that his letter 
 would precede their arrival at the chateau only by a few 
 days, and that the countess, for greater security, would 
 be conveyed thither in a litter; and concluded by desir- 
 ing various sums of money to be distributed amongst 
 the domestics. 
 
 The servants shouted for joy; the marquis and the 
 marchioness exchanged but one look, but that look was 
 sufi&cient to express their feelings. They contained 
 themselves, however, sufficiently to put on the appear- 
 ance of great satisfaction ; and the marquis even went so 
 far as to congratulate the domestics upon their attach- 
 ment to their master and mistress. The guilty pair, 
 left by themselves, listened gloomily to the noise of fire- 
 works, and sounds of music under the windows. They 
 remained for some time in silence, musing on what they 
 had heard. Their first reflection was that the count and 
 countess were mistaken; that the symptoms of which 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 251 
 
 he wrote were common and insignificant; that it was 
 impossible to suppose that anything of the sort should 
 occur after the lapse of twenty years; and, in short, 
 that it was a false alarm. 
 
 The next day they walked together in a solitary part 
 of the park , and discussed the chances of their situation. 
 M. de Saint-Maixent pointed out to the marchioness the 
 enormous loss that this occurrence must occasion her ; he 
 then remarked that, supposing the news to be true, there 
 were still several dangerous stages to be passed through. 
 He trusted that no accident would happen to the coun' 
 tess, and that the accoucheTnent might be successful. 
 " The child may die, " said he at last. 
 
 He went on to make some remarks upon the small 
 evil that the loss of such a being, without mind, inter- 
 ests, or consequence, would be to the world. It was 
 only, he said, "an ill-organised piece of matter. Yet 
 why should we disturb ourselves ? " continued he, impa- 
 tiently ; " the countess is not with child ; it is not so — 
 cannot be. " 
 
 A gardener, who was working near them, overheard 
 this part of their conversation, but, as they were walk- 
 ing away from him at the time, he was unable to hear 
 anything more. 
 
 A few days after this some servants on horseback ap- 
 peared at the chateau; they had been sent forward by 
 the count, with the information that their master and 
 mistress were only a little way behind. Accordingly 
 they were quickly followed by the travellers. The 
 countess was in the litter, and the count on horseback 
 by her side. They were received in great triumph ; all 
 the peasantry had left their labours, and were rending 
 the air with their shouts. The domestics ran out to 
 meet their mistress ; the oldest among them wept with 
 
252 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 joy at seeing the count so happy, and at the thought 
 that his noble qualities would now be perpetuated in 
 his heir. The Marquis de Saint-Maixent and Madame 
 de Bouille did their best to assume the appearance of 
 the joy which animated every one else. 
 
 The widow of the deceased Mar^chal de Saint-G^ran 
 hastened to the chateau the same day; and she, who 
 had expressed the greatest doubts of the intelligence, 
 became now fully convinced of its truth. The count 
 and his wife were very much beloved in the province ; 
 this event caused, therefore, general satisfaction, partio- 
 ularl}' in those numerous families who were attached 
 to them by the ties of blood. During the two or three 
 following days upwards of twenty ladies of quality 
 arrived, in all haste, upon a visit to the chateau, to 
 show how much they were interested in the condition of 
 the countess. The usual symptoms had now become so 
 manifest that no remaining doubt could be felt in the 
 mind of any one, and the country physicians were per- 
 fectly agreed in opinion. The count retained one of 
 these physicians at the ch§,teau, and consulted with the 
 Marquis de Saint-Maixent about procuring an experi- 
 enced midwife, who, he also intended, should reside in 
 the chateau. The count's mother, who was to give a 
 name to the child, ordered the most expensive and mag- 
 nificent presents to be prepared. 
 
 The marchioness, in the mean time, had stifled her 
 vexation; and, amongst people who were blinded by 
 their own joy, none perceived the feelings which preyed 
 on her mind. She daily saw the marquis, who only 
 augmented her disappointment and irritation by repeat- 
 ing that the count and countess were enjoying her mis- 
 fortune , and by insinuating that this expected birth was 
 a mere fabrication, invented in order to disinherit her. 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G^RAN. 253 
 
 He had begun, as usual in such cases, by corrupting the 
 marchioness's mind, and gradually making her familiar 
 with the idea of crime. 
 
 The marquis was one of those libertines, happily so 
 rare in those times (which, after all, were not so bad as 
 they have been called), who could turn the last discover- 
 ies in science to the account of atheism. It is worthy of 
 remark that all the great criminals of that time, Sainte- 
 Croix, for example, and Exili, the atrocious poisoners, 
 were also the greatest free-thinkers, and had outstripped 
 the most learned men of the day in the study of phil- 
 osophy, as well as in the science of physics, from which 
 they acquired the knowledge of the composition of their 
 poisons. Passion, interest, and hate struggled in favour 
 of the marquis in the breast of Madame de Bouill^; and 
 she consented to all that he required of her. 
 
 The Marquis de Saint-Maixent had a man in his 
 service, crafty, bold, and dexterous, whom he had sent 
 for from his estates, — a confidential servant quite worthy 
 of such a master. This man he had despatched on some 
 business in the neighbourhood of Saint-G^ran. 
 
 One evening, as the marquis was going to bed, the 
 man returned from one of his expeditions, came into his 
 apartment, and putting a paper in his hand, on which 
 were written some names of places and persons, informed 
 him that he had discovered the object of his search. 
 
 The next morning, at daybreak, the marquis had two 
 of his horses saddled, pretending that an afiair of impor- 
 tance called him home. Leaving word that he would be 
 absent for three or four days, and begging that his 
 apologies might be given to the count, he set ofif at full 
 speed, followed by his servant. That night they slept 
 at a small inn, on the road to Auvergne, in order to mis- 
 lead people who might recognise them ; then, travelling 
 
254 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 by cross-roads, they arrived in two days at a large town 
 in quite a different direction. 
 
 In the outskirts of this town there resided a woman 
 who exercised the profession of midwife, but who, it 
 was said, had mysterious and infamous secrets, which 
 she made known to such persons as would pay her well 
 for the information. At auy rate, she made a large 
 profit from the influence which her art gave her over 
 credulous people. She professed to cure the cruels, 
 prepared philters and love-potions, managed intrigues, 
 and even practised sorcery for the country 'people about. 
 She had, however, managed so well that her real char- 
 acter was but little known, except by those unfortunate 
 persons who were as much interested in the preservation 
 of her secrets as herself; and as her assistance was never 
 given, except for a stipulated sum of money, she lived 
 in tolerable prosperity, in a house which belonged to 
 herself, and of which, as being more convenient for her 
 proceedings, she was the only inmate. Moreover, she 
 enjoyed a good reputation in her trade, and was held in 
 great regard by many persons of high quality. The 
 name of this woman was Louise Goillard. 
 
 As she was sitting alone one evening, she heard a 
 violent knocking at her door. Accustomed to receive 
 guests at all hours of the night, she took up her lamp 
 and opened the door without hesitation. An armed man 
 burst into the room, apparently in great agitation. 
 Louise was so startled and terrified by this apparition 
 that she fell into a chair : it was the Marquis de Saint- 
 Maixent. 
 
 " Compose yourself, my good woman, " said the 
 stranger, interrupting her as she was about to speak. 
 "Be calm, I pray you; it is not you, but I who should 
 be agitated. I am no malefactor; and instead of your 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G£RAN. 255 
 
 having anything to fear from me, I am come to request 
 your assistance." 
 
 He threw his cloak into a corner, unbuckled his belt, 
 and laid aside his sword, then dropping wearily into a 
 chair, he requested permission to take some repose. 
 
 The marquis wore a travelling-dress ; and although he 
 did not make himself known, Louise Goillard saw at a 
 glance that he was far from being what she had at first 
 believed, — that he was, on the contrary, a gentleman 
 of quality whom her good fortune had brought there. 
 
 " I pray you to pardon me, " said she, " a mistrust, 
 which did you injustice. Your entrance was so sudden 
 that I had not time to see whom I had the honour of 
 receiving: My house stands in a solitary situation, I am 
 alone, and there are people who would take advantage of 
 these things to ruin a poor lone woman, who has no need 
 of additional misfortunes, — times are so bad. You seem 
 faint — shall I bring you a little wine ? " 
 
 " Let me have only a glass of water." 
 
 Louise Groillard stopped into another room, and 
 returned with water. 
 
 The marquis, having put it to his lips and seemed to 
 drink, said, " I am come from a great distance, upon a 
 matter of the utmost importance, and reckon upon your 
 assistance. " 
 
 He felt in his pocket, and drew from it a purse, which 
 he passed to and fro in his hands. 
 
 " First, " continued he, " I shall require you to swear 
 thafc you will observe the strictest secrecy. " 
 
 " It is not necessary with us, " said Louise Goillard ; 
 " in our business it is always the first condition. " 
 
 " I must have, however, stronger guarantees, — I must 
 have your oath that you will reveal to no one what I am 
 about to tell you." 
 
256 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 " I give you my word, since you require it; but once 
 again, it is unnecessary, — you do not know me." 
 
 " Consider that the matters of which I am about to 
 speak are most important, — that it is as if I were pla- 
 cing my life in your hands; and that I would sooner 
 sacrifice my own life a thousand times than that this 
 secret should be revealed to any one." 
 
 " And you also will please to consider, " calmly replied 
 the woman, " that we ourselves have the greatest interest 
 in the preservation of the secrets intrusted to us; that 
 one indiscretion may lose us the confidence of our em- 
 ployers, and in some cases, perhaps — You may pro- 
 ceed without hesitation." 
 
 The marquis, much encouraged by her apparent sincer- 
 ity, consented. 
 
 " I know you to be a very skilful woman." 
 
 " In your service I should wish to prove so. " 
 
 " That you have carried the study of your art as far as 
 possible. " 
 
 " You have, perhaps, overrated the merits of your 
 humble servant." 
 
 " And that, in your labours, you have discovered the 
 means of knowing the future." 
 
 " In that you are mistaken. " 
 
 " I have been told it as true. " 
 
 " You have been deceived." 
 
 "Why should you deny it? Do you already refuse 
 to be of use to me ? " 
 
 Louise Goillard held out on this point for a long 
 time : she could not believe that a man of his quality 
 could give credence to her powers of prophecy, which 
 she professed only to the common people and rich 
 farmers; but the marquis appeared so serious that she 
 knew not what to think. 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-GERAN. 267 
 
 " Listen, " said he ; " it is useless to attempt to 
 deceive me — I know all. Be calm ; we play a game 
 with a thousand to one in your favour; and, besides, 
 here is something, in the mean time, to make up to you 
 for my importunities." 
 
 He laid a pile of gold upon the table. The woman 
 feebly admitted that she occasionally made trials of 
 astrological combinations, but that they did not always 
 succeed, and that she had been led on so far solely by 
 their connexion with the phenomena of her art. The 
 secret of her nefarious practices was thus forced in its 
 first intrenchments. 
 
 "If it is so," replied the marquis, "you must be 
 already aware of my situation. You must already know 
 that, hurried away by blind and ardent passion, I have 
 betrayed the confidence of an old gentleman of quality, 
 and violated the laws of hospitality by seducing his 
 daughter in his own house, — that things are now come 
 to extremity with me, and that this young lady, whom I 
 love to distraction, being in a state which cannot longer 
 be concealed, is on the point of losing her life and 
 honour by the discovery of her fault, which indeed is 
 mine. " 
 
 The woman answered that nothing could be foreseen 
 respecting any one, saving by particular interrogations; 
 and to produce effect upon the marquis, she brought 
 into the room a kind of box, covered with ciphers and 
 strange-looking emblems. She opened it, and, having 
 combined some figures which it contained, said that it 
 was quite true, and that the marquis's situation was 
 most unfortunate. With the view of frightening him, 
 she told him that he was threatened with still greater 
 misfortunes, but observed that it would be easy to fore- 
 see and counteract these events by means of consultations. 
 
 VOL. I. — 17 
 
258 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 "Madame," answered the marquia, " there is but one 
 thing upon earth that I dread, — it is the dishonour of the 
 woman whom I love. Have you no means of remedying 
 the usual embarrassments of an aocouchement ? " 
 
 " I know of none ," said the matron. 
 
 " The young lady has managed to conceal her situa- 
 tion, and might lie in secretly." 
 
 " She has already endangered her life; and I will not 
 consent, for fear of accident, to have any hand in this 
 matter. " 
 
 "Is it not possible," said the marquis, " to have an 
 accouchement without suffering? " 
 
 " As to that, I know nothing. I would never think of 
 any method which might thwart the designs of nature." 
 
 "You deceive me; you do know such a method, — 
 you employed it upon a person whose name I could give 
 you." 
 
 " Who has dared to traduce me in this way 1 In all 
 my operations I am guided entirely by the decisions of 
 the faculty. God forbid that I should be stoned by all 
 the doctors in the country, or driven, perhaps, out of 
 France ! " 
 
 "Will you leave me, then, to despair? If I were 
 capable of making a bad use of your secrets, I might do 
 so already, for I know them. In Heaven's name, do 
 not dissemble any longer, but tell me how it is possible 
 to prevent the pains of delivery. Do you wish more 
 money ? Here it is. " 
 
 He laid some pieces of gold upon the table. 
 
 " Stay," said the matron, " there is indeed a method 
 of which I am the discoverer, and which, although 
 never tried upon any one, I believe to be effectual." 
 
 " But if you have never yet used it, may it not be 
 dangerous and hazard the life of the woman I love ? " 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 259 
 
 "When I say never, I am wrong; I have used it 
 once, and with complete success. Be calm." 
 
 " Ah ! " cried the marquis, " I shall ever be grateful 
 to you! But," continued he, " might it not he possible 
 to prevent the accouchement altogether, and to cause the 
 immediate disappearance of every symptom ? " 
 . " Monsieur, it is a great crime that you are talking 
 of." 
 
 "Alas!" answered the marquis, as if speaking to 
 himself in a paroxysm of grief, " I would rather deprive 
 myself of a child, the pledge of our love, than introduce 
 into the world an unfortunate being, who most likely 
 would be its mother's destroyer." 
 
 " For the love of God, monsieur, speak no more of it; 
 it is a horrible sin even to think of such a thing! " 
 
 " What ! then , is it better to be the means of destroy- 
 ing two persons, and throwing, perhaps, a whole family 
 into despair? Oh, madame, I implore you to save us 
 from this misery ! " 
 
 The marquis hid his face in his hands, and sobbed as 
 though he were weeping violently. 
 
 " Your despair has moved me deeply ," said the 
 matron ; " but consider that for a woman like me to be 
 engaged in such a thing is as much as my life is worth! " 
 
 " Why do you talk of your life ? Are not our secret, 
 and our safety, our honour involved? Nothing could 
 reach you till after the death and dishonour of all I 
 hold dear in the world." 
 
 "In that case, perhaps, I can; but it will be neces- 
 sary to forearm me against the annoyances of the law, 
 and to insure me, if necessary, an easy escape from the 
 kingdom." 
 
 " Let not that trouble you ; take my fortune ; take 
 my life ! " And he threw the whole purse on the table. 
 
260 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 " In that case, and solely to save you from the great 
 danger in which I see you are, I consent to provide you 
 with a beverage, and some instructions, which will 
 immediately deliver the lady from her burden. It will 
 be necessary to use the strictest precautions, and that she 
 study exactly the directions which I am about to give 
 you. My God! nothing but the desperate emergency 
 in which you are placed could induce me to — Stay ! " 
 
 She took a flask from a cupboard, and continued: 
 
 " Here is a liquor which has never yet failed in 
 effect." 
 
 "Ah, madame, you will save our honour, which is 
 dearer to us than our lives ! But this is not sufficient ; 
 tell me how and in what quantities this liquor must be 
 administered. " 
 
 " On the first day," replied the midwife, " the patient 
 must take one spoonful; on the second, two; on the 
 third — " 
 
 " I shall never remember all that : write me this pre- 
 scription, I beg you, in my pocket-hook." 
 
 The midwife hesitated a moment, but, as the pocket- 
 book was opened, a bank-note for five hundred francs 
 fell to the ground; the marquis picked it up and pre- 
 sented it to her. 
 
 "Take it," said he; "it is not worth the trouble of 
 putting it back." 
 
 This last gift was so magnificent that any suspicions 
 which yet remained in the mind of the midwife were 
 removed, and she wrote the prescription in the marquis's 
 pocket-book. 
 
 The marquis put the flask in his pocket, took the 
 pocket-book from her hand, examined it to see if the 
 instructions were complete, and then turned to the mid- 
 wife with a diabolical smile. 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-GERAN. 261 
 
 " At last," cried he, "I have you! " 
 
 " What mean you, monsieur % " inquired the aston- 
 ished woman. 
 
 "I mean," continued the marquis, "that you are an 
 infamous witch, and a vile poisoner. I mean that I 
 have here the proof of your guilt, and that you will 
 either do what I command you, or perish at the stake." 
 
 " Mercy ! mercy ! " cried the woman, falling at his 
 feet. 
 
 "My mercy rests with yourself," calmly replied the 
 marquis. 
 
 " Speak ! what must I do ? " inquired the midwife ; 
 " I am prepared for everything. " 
 
 "Listen, then; it is now my turn to tell my secrets, 
 
 — but I shall be careful not to write them." 
 
 "Say on, monsieur; you shall have no reason to 
 complain of my devotion." 
 
 " Sit down, then, and hear what I have to say." 
 
 The woman rose from her knees, and threw herself 
 into a chair. 
 
 " So, then, I see that you understand me," said the 
 marquis. "The prison, the torture, and the stake, or 
 three times as much gold as I have already given you, 
 
 — in short, your destruction or prosperity for the rest 
 of your life." 
 
 The midwife's eyes recovered their brightness, and 
 she bent her head, as if to signify that she was his, 
 body and soul. 
 
 " There is, " continued the marquis, fixing his pierc- 
 ing look upon the poor woman, — " there is, in a 
 chateau about three leagues hence, a lady of quality, 
 now some months gone with child. The birth of this 
 child is hateful to me. You will have the charge of 
 the accouchement. I will tell you what you must do, 
 
262 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 and you will do whatever I tell you. It is necessary to 
 set out this very night. You will accompany me. I 
 have horses waiting within a short distance of this 
 house, and I will leave you at a place where you will 
 wait my orders. You shall be informed when the time 
 of your service arrives, and in the mean time shall want 
 for no comfort that money can procure." 
 
 " I am ready," answered the midwife, briefly. 
 
 " You will obey me in everything 1 " 
 
 "I will." 
 
 " Let us go, then." 
 
 She asked only for time to pack up a few necessaries; 
 she put some things in order, locked her doors, and 
 quitted the house with the marquis. A quarter of an 
 hour afterward they were galloping along, in the mid- 
 dle of the night, without her knowing whither the mar- 
 quis was taking her. 
 
 The marquis returned to the chateau three days after- 
 ward, and found the count's family as he had left them; 
 that is to say, in the utmost excitement of hope and 
 impatience for the delivery of the countess. He apol- 
 ogised for his sudden departure, alleging the importance 
 of the business which occasioned it. While speaking 
 of his journey, at dinner, he related the sensation which 
 had been caused in the place from which he had returned 
 by a surprising event, of which he had been almost an 
 eye-witness. A lady of quality was suddenly taken 
 with the pains of labour. All the skill of the doctors 
 was at fault; the lady was about to perish; when at 
 last, in despair, they ordered a woman who was imuoh 
 thought of in the country among the peasants, but who 
 was little known among the higher orders, to be sent 
 for. This woman presented herself modestly before 
 them, mistrustful of herself. Froia her first remedies 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-GERAN. 263 
 
 the pains ceased, as if by magic, and in a ifew hours the 
 mother was happily delivered of a most beautiful child ; 
 but, immediately upon its birth, she was seized with 
 a violent fever, which almost brought her to the grave. 
 It was then resolved to call in physicians, in opposi- 
 tion to the wish of the master of the house, who placed 
 great confidence in the woman. Their treatment only 
 increased the fever. Recourse was again had to the 
 midwife, and in three weeks the lady was miraculously 
 restored to health. " This occurrence," continued the 
 marquis, " has confirmed the woman's reputation so 
 completely that nothing is now spoken of in the town 
 and its neighbourhood but her wonderful ability." 
 
 This story called to the minds of the company the 
 condition of the countess. Her mother-in-law remarked 
 that they were too apt wrongfully to despise these 
 humble country practitioners, and that perhaps experi- 
 ence and sound sense discovered secrets to them which 
 study and pride denied to the members of the faculty. 
 The count agreed in this remark, and exclaimed that he 
 would seek a midwife who should resemble the woman of 
 whom they spoke. After this the subject was dropped, 
 the marquis being the first to change the conversation ; 
 he was satisfied with having thus, without apparent 
 design, sown the first seeds of his project. 
 
 After dinner the company walked upon the terrace. 
 The count's mother, not being able to walk, owing to 
 her great age, sat down on a bench, with the countess 
 and Madame de Bouille. The count and M. de Saint- 
 Maixent continued walking together for a long time. 
 The marquis naturally inquired whether all had gone 
 on well, and if Madame de Saint-Geran had had any 
 increase of indisposition during his absence; for her 
 approaching accouchement had become the most engross- 
 
264 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 ing subject in the family. By this inquiry the con- 
 versation was turned to its former channel. 
 
 "Apropos," said the count, " you talked, very oppor- 
 tunely, of a skilful midwife; would it not be possible 
 to have her here 1 " 
 
 "I certainly think," answered the marquis, "that 
 you could not choose better, and that in this neighbour- 
 hood there are none who can compare with her. " 
 
 " I have a great mind to send for her immediately, 
 and to retain her from this time in the service of 
 the countess, by having her here before her assistance 
 is required. She would the better understand the 
 countess's constitution. Do you know where she is to 
 be found 1 " 
 
 "Let me see," said the marquis; " she lives in some 
 village, but I cannot remember where it is." 
 
 " Do you recollect her name ? " 
 
 "Hardly; Louise Boyard, I think, or Polliard; I do 
 not know which." 
 
 " What! have you not even retained the name in 
 your memory ? " 
 
 " I heard the story, and that is all. Who the devil 
 can remember a name which passes in at one ear and out 
 at the other 1 " 
 
 " Had you, then, no thought of the countess? " 
 
 " It is so far from hence that I never imagined you 
 would wish to engage this' woman. I thought you were 
 already provided." 
 
 " How can ^he be discovered ? " 
 
 " Easily enough ; I have a servant who knows every 
 corner of the country, who will not fail to find her; if 
 you wish it, I will send him in search of the woman." 
 
 " If I wish it, do you ask? Certainly, this moment! " 
 
 The same evening the servant received his commis- 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 265 
 
 sion, the instructions of the count, and, above all, those 
 of his master, and set off. Of course he had not far to 
 go in search of his object, but he remained purposely 
 away for three days, at the end of which time Louise 
 Goillard was installed in the chateau. 
 
 She was a woman of a plain and simple appearance, 
 and quickly gained the confidence of everybody. The 
 machinations of the marquis and of Madame de Bouille 
 seemed now to be in the way of success, when an acci- 
 dent occurred, which had almost rendered them useless, 
 and which, by nearly causing a great misfortune, would 
 have had the effect of averting a great crime. 
 
 The countess, in going to her apartment, entangled 
 her foot in a carpet, and fell heavily upon the floor. 
 Alarmed by the cries of a servant, who had witnessed 
 the accident, the whole household assembled. The 
 countess was carried to bed, and all was dismay and 
 terror. This accident, however, had no bad conse- 
 quences, and only occasioned new visits from the neigh- 
 bours, to prove once more their interest in her welfare. 
 This took place toward the end of the seventh month. 
 
 At last the time of the countess's confinement ap- 
 proached. Everything had long since been prepared 
 for the expected birth. The marquis had employed 
 the interval in dissipating the scruples of Madame de 
 Bouille. He saw, too, Louise Goillard several times 
 privately , and gave her instructions ; but he knew that 
 the corruption of the steward Baulieu was also necessary 
 to his plans. Baulieu was already partly won by the 
 presents he had received; a large sum of money and 
 larger promises did the rest. The marchioness, in the 
 mean time, by the instigation of M. de Saint-Maixent, 
 was labouring to induce her maids, the sisters Quinet, 
 to give their assistance to the abominable project. Thus 
 
266 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 this excellent family were entirely surrounded by plots 
 and conspiracies, carried on by those whom they most 
 loved and trusted. The conspirators, thus prepared, 
 impatiently waited their time. 
 
 On the 16th of August, 1641, the Comtesse de Saint- 
 Geran was taken with the pains of labour in the chapel 
 of the chateau, where she had been attending mass. 
 She was carried to her room before its conclusion. The 
 pains continued with the most frightful paroxysms. 
 The count, in tears, listened to the agonised cries of 
 his wife- Many persons were spectators of the scene. 
 The two daughters of the marshal's widow by her 
 second marriage, one of whom, aged sixteen, was after- 
 wards married to the Due de Ventadour, and appeared 
 at the trial, had wished to be present on an occasion of 
 such deep interest to this noble family. Besides these, 
 there were Madame de Saligny, sister of the deceased 
 Marechal de Saint-Geran, the Marquis de Saint- 
 Maixent, and the Marquise de Bouille. 
 
 As it became evident that the pains increased without 
 result, that the case was most dangerous, and that the 
 countess was in a precarious state, expresses were sent 
 to the neighbouring parish churches, to offer up prayers 
 for the mother and child. At Moulins the holy sacra- 
 ment was exposed in the churches. 
 
 The midwife alone attended the countess in her 
 labour. She had pretended that, from this arrange- 
 ment, .she would be more at ease; her slightest wish 
 was eagerly obeyed. The countess did not speak a 
 word, and only interrupted the dismal silence by the 
 most heart-rending cries. Suddenly Madame de Bouille, 
 who pretended to be busily occupied, remarked that 
 the large company present disturbed the countess, and 
 taking upon herself an air of authority, authorised by 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 267 
 
 seeming tenderness, she requested that every one should 
 retire from the patient's bedside excepting those who 
 were absolutely necessary for her attendance, and, that 
 no one might imagine themselves excepted, she trusted 
 that the count's mother would set the example. The 
 count was thus drawn away from the melancholy scene, 
 and every one followed the old lady from the sick-room. 
 Even the countess's two waiting-maids were not per- 
 mitted to remain, but were provided with employment 
 elsewhere. It was represented as a cause for their 
 removal that two young girls, the eldest hardly fifteen, 
 ought not to be present on such an occasion. The only 
 persons that remained, therefore, were the Marquise de 
 Bouille, the midwife, and the two sisters Quinet; and 
 the poor countess was thus left in the hands of her most 
 deadly enemies. 
 
 It was seven o'clock in the evening; the pains con- 
 tinued unabated. The count and his mother sent every 
 minute for the latest intelligence, to which the answer 
 that all was well, and that in a short time their hopes 
 would be fulfilled, was invariably returned; but the en- 
 trance to the chamber was forbidden to all the domestics. 
 
 Three hours later, the midwife declared that the 
 countess could not hold out without procuring some 
 repose. She made her swallow a liquid, which she 
 poured into her mouth by spoonfuls. Immediately 
 afterward the countess fell into so deep a sleep that 
 she appeared as if dead. The younger of the Quinets, 
 believing they were about to murder her, began to cry in 
 a corner of the room, but Madame de Bouill^ brought 
 her to reason. 
 
 During this fearful night, a shadowy figure glided 
 through the corridors, silently crossed the salons, came 
 as far as the door of the sick-room, and spoke in low 
 
268 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 tones to the midwife and the marchioness. It was the 
 Marquis de Saint-Maixent, who gave his orders, encour- 
 aged his people, watched every point of his plot, and 
 was all the while a prey to those pangs which must 
 accompany the perpetration of a great crime. 
 
 Owing to her great age, the count's mother was 
 persuaded to take some repose. The count sat up, 
 exhausted with fatigue, in a room within a few steps 
 from the place where a set of fiends were working the 
 ruin of all he held most dear. 
 
 The countess, while in this state of lethargy, was, 
 unconsciously to herself, delivered of a boy, who thus 
 fell, upon entering the world, into the hands of his 
 enemies, without his mother ever having the means of 
 defending him, by cries or tears. The door was opened, 
 and a man, who had been waiting, entered the room; 
 it was the steward Baulieu. The midwife, under pre- 
 tence of paying the first attentions to the child, had 
 turned aside with it into a corner. Baulieu observed 
 one of her movements, and, throwing himself upon her, 
 held her hand. The wretched woman attempted to 
 force her fingers into its skull. He snatched the poor 
 infant from her arms; but, all his life, the count's son 
 bore the marks of her violence. The Marquise de 
 Bouille, perhaps, had not been able to resolve upon per- 
 mitting her to commit so great a crime, but we think it 
 more likely that the steward prevented it by the orders 
 of M. de Saint-Maixent. The probability is that the 
 marquis, doubting the fulfilment of the promise which 
 Madame de Bouille had made to marry him after the 
 death of her husband, wished to preserve this child, as 
 a means of compelling her to keep her word, by his 
 having the power of threatening her with its production 
 in the event of her proving false to him. At least, 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-GARAN. 269 
 
 there are no other apparent reasons for a man of his 
 character taking so much care of his victim. 
 
 Baulieu, having snatched the child, put it into a 
 basket, hid it under his cloak, and went in search of 
 the marquis with his prey. They consulted together 
 for some time, after which the steward went out by a 
 side gate, which opened upon the moat of the ch§,teau ; 
 thence he crossed a terrace, and over a bridge which led 
 into the park. This park had twelve gates, to all of 
 which he had the keys. He mounted a good horse, 
 which he had in readiness hidden behind a wall, and 
 went off at full gallop. 
 
 The same day he passed through the village of Esche- 
 rolles, about a league from Saint-G^ran, where he 
 stopped at the house of a nurse , a woman of the name of 
 Claude, by trade a glover, who suckled the child; but 
 the steward, not daring to prolong his stay in a village 
 so near Saint-Geran, crossed the river Allier at the 
 Port de la Chaise; and, having once more dismounted 
 at the house of one Boucaud, where the mistress of the 
 house again gave the child its nourishment, he pursued 
 his way toward Auvergne. 
 
 The weather was exceedingly hot, the horse was worn 
 out, and the child seemed uneasy. A carrier happened 
 to pass, who was on his way to Eiom. This man's 
 name was Paul Boithion; he was the ordinary carrier 
 on this road. . Baulieu made a bargain with him to 
 convey the child in his cart, into which he himself 
 mounted, holding it in his arms. The horse followed, 
 tied behind. 
 
 In the conversation which he had with this man, 
 Baulieu began to inform him that he should not take so 
 much care of the child, if he did not belong to the first 
 family in the Bourbonnais. He arrived about noon at 
 
270 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the village of Che. The mistress of the house where 
 they stopped, who had nurslings of her own, consented 
 to give a little of her milk to the poor infant, who was 
 covered with blood ; she warmed some water, washed' its 
 head and feet, and dressed it properly. 
 
 The carrier took them with him as far as Eiom. 
 Arrived there, Baulieu got rid of him, and, making a 
 false appointment with him, turned his horse's head in 
 the direction of the abbey de Lavoine, and arrived at 
 the village of Descoutaux, in the mountains between 
 Lavoine and Thiers. In that place the Marquise de 
 Bouille had a chateau, to which she was in the habit of 
 retiring from time to time. At Descoutaux the child 
 was nursed by a woman of the name of Gabrielle 
 Moinot, who, it was arranged, was to receive her pay- 
 ment a month in advance; however, it remained under 
 her charge only seven or eight days, owing to- her being 
 refused the name of the father or mother, or any place 
 to which she might address herself, to give intelligence 
 of her foster-child. This woman having spread this 
 story about, no other nurse could be found to take 
 charge of the infant. It was, therefore, removed from 
 the village of Descoutaux. The persons who carried it 
 away took the road to Burgundy; and, as they passed 
 through a country covered with wood, all further traces 
 of them were lost. 
 
 These details were afterward proved by the nurses, 
 the carrier, and other persons who were witnesses at 
 the trial. We relate them so minutely because they 
 were of great importance in the evidence. In the 
 accounts of this case, from which we have gathered our 
 facts,, it has not been told how the steward's absence 
 was accounted for at the chS^teau; but the marquis, 
 doubtless, was provided^ with a sufficient pretext. 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G£RAN. 271 
 
 The lethargy of the countess continued until day- 
 break. She woke very weak, but in a state of comfort, 
 which convinced her she was eased of her burden. Her 
 first words were of her child. She wished to see and 
 to embrace him, and inquired where he was. The mid- 
 wife answered her, with the greatest coolness, — so 
 indifferently that the maids who were there were com- 
 pelled to turn away, astounded at her effrontery, — that 
 no accouchement had taken place. The countess asserted 
 the contrary, and as she appeared greatly excited, the 
 midwife, to calm her, assured her that the delivery 
 would not be much longer delayed, and that, to judge 
 from the symptoms observed during the night, she would 
 most likely have a boy. This promise comforted the 
 count and his mother, but failed in convincing the 
 countess, who declared positively that her child was 
 already born. 
 
 The same morning a servant maid met a woman 
 descending to the brink of the moat of the chateau, 
 carrying a parcel in her arms. She recognised the 
 midwife, and inquired of her what she was carry- 
 ing, and where she was going so early. She answered 
 that the girl was very curious, and that it contained 
 nothing of consequence; but, pretending to be angry 
 with this reply, the girl opened one of the ends of 
 the parcel, before the midwife had time to prevent 
 her, and discovered several cloths, all covered with 
 blood. 
 
 " Madame has, then, been brought to bed? " said she 
 to the midwife. 
 
 " No! " answered she, hastily, " no such thing! " 
 
 " How can that be ? " continued the servant, persist- 
 ing, "since Madame de Bouill^, who was present, has 
 said so." 
 
272 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 "If she has said so," answered the midwife, quite 
 confoimded, " she has a very long tongue. " 
 
 This girl's evidence was afterward one of the princi- 
 pal causes of the conviction of the criminals. 
 
 The irritation of the countess increased next day. 
 She insisted, with cries and tears, that they would at 
 least tell her what had hecome of her child, still assert- 
 ing that she knew she was not mistaken in saying that 
 she had heen delivered. The midwife answered, coldly, 
 that " the new moon was unfavourable to childbirth, 
 and that they would have to wait its waning, — a more 
 propitious period. " 
 
 The opinions of sick people are not generally received 
 with great confidence; nevertheless, the firmness of the 
 countess would have convinced every one sooner or 
 later, had not the count's mother remembered that, on 
 one occasion of her being enceinte, toward the end of 
 the ninth month, she too had shown all the signs of 
 immediate confinement, although it did not take place 
 till six weeks afterward. 
 
 This information restored some confidence. The mar- 
 quis and Madame de Bouille did all they could to 
 make the family rest satisfied with it; but the countess 
 continued to resist, and her continued transports of grief 
 and agitation produced the utmost alarm. 
 
 The midwife, who no longer knew how to gain time, 
 and was losing all hope, from the steadiness of Madame 
 de Saint-G-eran in her assertion, now resolved in her 
 terror to destroy her. She persuaded the family that, 
 in the peculiar situation of the countess, some violent 
 exercise was necessary, and advised the countess to sub- 
 mit to it. The countess, still firm in her opinion, 
 refused to concede to this advice; but the count, his 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-GERAN 273 
 
 mother, and the whole family begged her so earnestly 
 to agree to it that she yielded. 
 
 She was placed in a close carriage, and once every day 
 Was carried out, over the roughest and most difficult 
 roads. Thus was she shaken about until she was quite 
 breathless ; and nothing but the very strong constitution 
 which she possessed could have withstood this pain, in 
 the delicate state of her health. She was carried back 
 to her bed after this cruel drive ; and seeing at last that 
 no one would believe her assertions, she committed her- 
 self to Providence, and sought consolation in religion. 
 Although the midwife had administered violent medi- 
 cines under various pretences, still she withstood all 
 these attempts on her life, and slowlj- recovered. 
 
 Time, which heals the greatest wounds, by degrees 
 alleviated those of the countess; although for some time 
 her grief broke out afresh upon the least occasion, she 
 finally overcame it, until it was again revived by the 
 events which we have still to relate. 
 
 There had been, previously to this, residing in Paris 
 a fencing-master, who boasted that he belonged, through 
 one of his brothers, to the service of a great family, and 
 who was married to Marie Pigoreau, the daughter of a 
 comedian. This man had died shortly before the com- 
 mencement of our story, leaving his widow in a state 
 of indigence, with the charge of two children. The 
 woman Pigoreau was of a very doubtful character, and 
 no one knew how she lived, when all at once, after 
 several short absences, and repeated visits from a 
 stranger in the evenings, with his face muffled in his 
 cloak, it was remarked that she lived in greater com- 
 fort, and wore better clothes, and at last it became 
 known that she was bringing up a strange child. 
 
 About the same time it was said that she had de- 
 
 TOL. I. — 18 
 
274 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 posited Wo thousand livres in the hands of a tradesman 
 in the neighbourhood, named Raguenet; and some days 
 after this, they having doubtless delayed the baptism 
 of the child for fear that its origin should be traced, 
 Pigoreau undertook to have it christened at Saint Jean- 
 en-G-reve. She had not recourse to the neighbours to 
 bring him to the font, and found means to produce a 
 father and mother at the church. She took as godfather 
 the grave-digger of the parish, named Paul Marmion, 
 who called the child by the name of Bernard. 
 
 Pigoreau remained in a confessional during the cere- 
 mony, and gave ten sous to this man. The godmother 
 was Jeanne Chevalier, a poor woman of the parish. 
 
 On the parish registry the following was written : 
 
 " On the seventh day of March, sixteen hundred and forty- 
 two, was baptised Bernard, the son of and of ; 
 
 Paul Marmion, labourer and grave-digger of this parish, the 
 godfather, and Jeanne Chevalier, widow of Pierre Thibou, 
 the godmother." 
 
 A few days afterward Pigoreau put the child to nurse 
 with an acquaintance of hers, residing in the village of 
 Torcy en Brie, and whose husband was called Paillard. 
 She told her it was a child of quality, who had been 
 confided to her care, and that she would not hesitate, if 
 he died, to redeem his life by the life of one of her own 
 children. This nurse did not keep the infant long, as 
 she fell sick; and Pigoreau placed the child with the 
 widow of a peasant called Marc Peguin, who lived in 
 the same village. The nurse's allowance was regularly 
 paid in advance, and the infant treated in every way 
 like a child of quality. Here also Pigoreau informed 
 them of its noble birth, and that sooner or later it 
 would make the fortune of those who had anything to 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-GERAN. 276 
 
 do with it. The child was often, visited by a middle- 
 aged man, who was believed to be the father, but who 
 Pigoreau assured them was only her brother-in-law. 
 
 When the child was eighteen months old, Pigoreau 
 again took it under her charge and weaned it. This 
 woman had had two sons by her husband : the first was 
 called Antoine; the second, who had he lived would 
 have been named Henri, was born on the 9th of August, 
 1639, a short time after the death of his father, who 
 had been killed in the month of June in the same year. 
 Pigoreau determined to give to the stranger child the 
 name and station of her own son, and thus to bury for 
 ever in obscurity the secret of its birth. With this 
 object she quitted the quarter where she had been resid- 
 ing, and took up her abode in a parish where she was 
 unknown. 
 
 The child was brought up in this manner under the 
 name of Henri, the second son of Pigoreau, until he 
 attained the age of two years and a half; but at this 
 period, whether it was that her engagement to keep him 
 extended only up to this time, or that she had spent the 
 two thousand livres, and further remuneration was 
 refused her for its maintenance, — at any rate, she 
 resolved to rid herself of her charge. 
 
 This woman had been heard to say that she had little 
 anxiety about her eldest son, because she was quite cer- 
 tain as to the prospects of the second ; and, when some 
 one said to her that, being obliged to part with one of 
 her children, she had better keep the second, who was 
 a very fine child, she answered that that did not depend 
 on her, as this child's godfather was an uncle in easy 
 circumstances, who would take charge of him. She 
 often talked about this uncle, her brother-in-law, who, 
 she said, was steward in a great family. One morning 
 
276 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the porter of the hotel of Saint-Geran came to tell 
 Baulieu that a woman, carrying a child, wished to see 
 him at the gate. Baulieu, we must here explain, was the 
 brother of the deceased fencing-master, and the father- 
 in-law of Pigoreau's second son. It will therefore be 
 guessed who the stranger had been who had given her 
 the charge of the child of quality, and had been to visit 
 him to the nurse's house. Pigoreau earnestly repre- 
 sented the hardships of her situation. The steward, 
 much moved, took the child, and told Pigoreau to wait 
 for him at a place which he pointed out at a short dis- 
 tance from the house. 
 
 Baulieu's wife exclaimed loudly against this increase 
 to her family; but he succeeded in calming her, by 
 representing to her the poverty of his sister-in-law, and 
 the ease with which, in a house like that of the count, 
 they might relieve her of the burden. He then went in 
 search of his master, to request permission to bring up 
 the child in the house. The count and countess were 
 at first opposed to the proposal, remarking that as he 
 already had five children, it would be imprudent in him 
 to take upon himself this new burden ; but he continued 
 to implore them to allow it with so much earnestness 
 that they finally consented to the plan. The countess 
 wished to see the child, and as she was about to start 
 for Moulins, she ordered him to be placed in the car- 
 riage with her women. When he was shown to her, 
 she exclaimed involuntarily, " What a lovely child! " 
 
 He was indeed a beautiful boy, with fair hair, large 
 blue eyes, and regular features. She caressed him a 
 hundred times, and the child returned her caresses in an 
 engaging manner. 
 
 When they arrived at the ch3,teau de Saint-G^ran, 
 her tenderness for Henri (which name the child still 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G£RAN: 277 
 
 retained) increased. She would often gaze upon him 
 with sadness, and then, embracing him tenderly, would 
 hold him for a long time to her breast. The count 
 shared her feelings for the pretended nephew of Baulieu, 
 and he became in a manner adopted as their son, and 
 educated as a child of quality. 
 
 The Marquis de Saint-Maixent and Madame de 
 Bouille were not married, although the old Marquis de 
 Bouille had been long since dead. It seemed as though 
 this project had been given up. The marchioness was 
 doubtless restrained by her scruples, while the marquis 
 was indisposed to it by his dissolute habits. 
 
 It is believed that other engagements and enormous 
 sums of money indemnified him for this broken promise. 
 
 The Marquis de Saint-Maixent had seduced a girl 
 named Jacqueline de la Garde. This girl often heard 
 him boast, as a clever intrigue, of having carried off the 
 son of a governor of a province, and grandchild of a 
 marshal of France; and, speaking of the Marquise de 
 Bouille, he had been heard to say that it was he who 
 had made her wealthy, and that to him she owed her 
 whole opulence. On one occasion, when he had taken 
 Jacqueline to a beautiful spot, upon grounds belonging 
 to himself, and she admired its situation, remarking 
 that " C'etait un beau lieu," he replied, laughingly, 
 with a play upon words, that he " connaissait un autre 
 Baulieu, qui lui avait procure le moyen de faire une 
 fortune de cinq cent mille ecus." 
 
 In a journey to Paris along with Jadelon, Sieur de la 
 Barbesange, the marquis allowed to escape from him 
 that the Comtesse de Saint-Geran had been delivered of 
 a son, who was then in his power. 
 
 The marquis had not seen Madame de Bouill^ for a 
 long time; their common danger once more brought 
 
278 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 them together. They had both learnt with terror the 
 presence of Henri at the hotel de Saint-Geran. They 
 consulted together upon this subject, and the marquis 
 undertook to make matters safe. However, he dared 
 not undertake anything rashly against the child; and 
 his situation was the more difficult because, owing to 
 some of his adventures having come to the ears of the 
 Saint-G-erans, he was now upon very cold terms with 
 the family. 
 
 Baulieu, the constant witness of the tenderness of 
 the count and countess for little Henri, was a hundred 
 times on the point of confessing all to them. He was 
 torn with remorse. He frequently let fall words which 
 he believed, from the length of time which had elapsed, 
 would not have been noticed, but which were, neverthe- 
 less, observed. He sometimes remarked that he held in 
 his hands the life and honour of Madame de Bouille, 
 and that the count and countess had more reasons than 
 they knew for loving Henri. One day he laid before a 
 clergyman the following question of conscience : Has a 
 man, who has assisted in the abduction of a child, done 
 enough to satisfy his conscience when he has restored it 
 to its father and mother, without their knowing who it 
 is ? The answer of the priest is not known, but to all 
 appearance the steward was by no means reassured by it. 
 Upon being congratulated by an inhabitant of Moulins 
 on having a nephew who received such kind treatment 
 from his master and mistress, he replied that they might 
 well love the child, for that it was very closely allied to 
 them. 
 
 These expressions were remembered by other persons 
 than those who had the deepest interest in them. One 
 day a dealer in foreign wines came to offer for sale to 
 Baulieu some Spanish wine, and. gave him a flask to 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G£RAN. 279 
 
 taste as a Esample. The same evening lie was taken hor- 
 ribly ill. He was carried to his bed, where he lay 
 writhing and uttering the most fearful cries. When 
 his suiferings left him any reason, one single thought 
 governed him, and in his agony he kept repeating that 
 be wished to ask pardon of the count and countess for a 
 great loss which he had caused them. The persons who 
 surrounded his bedside replied that this was of little 
 importance, and that he ought not to sadden his last 
 moments with such reflections; but he continued to cry 
 so piteously for them to come to him that some one went 
 to inform them of his wish. The count, believing it 
 related to some trifling loss, some small amount of 
 money embezzled from the expenses of the house, and 
 fearing to hasten the death of the unfortunate man by 
 shame and the avowal of a fault, sent back word that he 
 forgave him, that he might die tranquilly, and declined 
 coming to see him. Baulieu expired shortly after, 
 carrying his secret with him to the grave. This was in 
 1648. 
 
 The child was now seven years old , and the count and 
 countess felt their love for him increasing with his 
 growth; they had him taught dancing and fencing, 
 clothed him in the dress of a page, and were served by 
 him in that capacity. It was against him that the mar- 
 quis now turned his machinations. He was scheming, 
 no doubt, in his mind, a plot no less criminal than the 
 preceding, when justice at last reached him through 
 other enormous crimes of which he was accused. He 
 was arrested one day, in the street, while talking to a 
 servant of the Saint-Geran family, and was taken to the 
 prison of the Conciergerie. Whether owing to his 
 imprudent observations, or to the other indications 
 which we have related, reports began to be current in 
 
280 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 the Bourbonnais of the true state of the case ; these con- 
 fused rumours at length reached the ears of the count 
 and countess, but they served only to renew their grief 
 without offering any proof of the truth. 
 
 In the mean time, the count went to take the waters 
 at Vichy, accompanied by the countess and Madame de 
 Bouille. Chance ordained that in this town they should 
 meet with Louise Goillard the midwife. This woman 
 renewed her acquaintance with the family, and paid fre- 
 quent visits to the Marquise de Bouille. One day, the 
 countess coming suddenly into the apartment of the 
 marchioness, found them conversing together in a low 
 voice. Upon her entrance they immediately ceased, 
 and appeared disconcerted. 
 
 The countess, although she saw their agitation, at- 
 tached no importance to it, but inquired the subject of 
 their conversation. 
 
 " Oh! nothing," answered the marchioness. 
 
 " If it is nothing, tell me what it is, " said the 
 countess, observing that they had both coloured. 
 
 The marchioness, in her confusion, could not find an 
 answer, and felt her agitation increasing. 
 
 " Louise Goillard," said she at length, "was praising 
 my brother for having received her so kindly." 
 
 "And why," said the countess, turning to the mid- 
 wife, " should Louise Goillard have apprehended an 
 unkind reception from my husband ? " 
 
 " I feared," said the midwife, adroitly, " that he could 
 not but entertain a bad feeling toward me after what 
 passed when we believed you to be about to have a child." 
 
 The mystery of these words, and the agitation of the 
 two women, instantly struck the countess with suspi- 
 cion; she restrained herself, however, and did not carry 
 the conversation further. Nevertheless, her emotion 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 281 
 
 did not escape the eyes of the marchioness. The next 
 day she retired to her estate at Lavoine; this imprudent 
 step, of course, only strengthening the suspicions of the 
 countess. 
 
 The first resolution of the countess was to have Louise 
 Goillard arrested; but she felt that, in an affair of such 
 importance, nothing should be done without careful 
 consideration. She consulted her husband and his 
 mother, and it was determined to send for the midwife, 
 and, without allowing her to suspect anything, suddenly 
 to question her upon the subject. She hesitated and 
 contradicted herself several times; besides which, her 
 evident fright was alone a sufficient proof of her guilt. 
 She was placed in the hands of justice, and the Comte 
 de Saint-Geran made his charge against her before the 
 vice-seneschal of Moulins. 
 
 The midwife, upon undergoing a first interrogation, 
 confessed the fact of the accouchement having taken 
 place, but averred that the child was still-born, and had 
 been buried under a stone, near a staircase, which led 
 up to a barn in the courtyard. 
 
 The judge, accompanied by a physician and a surgeon, 
 searched the place which she had mentioned, but found 
 neither stone, skeleton, nor any other indication of her 
 story being true ; they sought also in vain in every other 
 place where there was the least probability of discover- 
 ing any clue to the afifair. 
 
 Upon this being told to the count's mother, she said 
 that proceedings against this infamous woman ought to 
 be immediately commenced. The preliminary procedure 
 accordingly took place before the juge d' instruction. 
 
 Louise Goillard, in a second interrogation, averred 
 that the countess had not been delivered at all; in a 
 third, that she had had a miscarriage; in a fourth that 
 
282 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 sli« had given birth to a boy whom Baulieu had carried 
 off in a basket; in a fifth, on which occasion she 
 answered from the sellette,^ she asserted that the avowal 
 of the aocouehement of the countess had been drawn 
 from her by violence. 
 
 In all her declarations she laid nothing to the charge 
 of Madame de Bouille, or the Marquis de Saint-Maixent. 
 
 As soon as she was imprisoned, she despatched her 
 son, Guillemin, to the marchioness, to inform her 
 merely that she had been arrested. The marchioness 
 understood the threat, and was in great consternation. 
 She immediately sent the Sieur de la Foresterie, her 
 equerry, to the lieutenant-general, who was her counsel, 
 and the mortal enemy of the count, that she might have 
 his assistance in this emergency, and be instructed by 
 what means she might assist the midwife, without in 
 any manner appearing herself. The advice of the lieu- 
 tenant-general was, to stifle the proceedings, and to 
 obtain a decree prohibiting the continuation of the suit. 
 By a lavish expenditure of money the marchioness 
 obtained this decree ; but almost immediately afterward 
 it became useless, and the prohibition was removed. 
 
 La Foresterie had instructions afterward to proceed 
 to Riom, where the sisters Quinet were now residing, 
 and by a liberal use of money to induce them to persist 
 in keeping the secret. The eldest of them, on leaving 
 the service of the marchioness, to whose horrible secrets 
 she was privy, had flourished her fists in her mistress's 
 face, telling her that she should one day repent having 
 turned them away, as she would confess everything, 
 though she should be hanged for it. These girls now 
 sent her word that they begged to return to her service ; 
 
 ' A stool on which prisoners were placed when examined tinder 
 strOTig circumstances of suspicion. 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G£RAN. 283 
 
 that the countess had made them advantageous proposals, 
 if they would speak out; that they had even been ques- 
 tioned in her name, but that as yet they had told noth- 
 ing, but only asked for time to consider their answer. 
 The marchioness was compelled to take back these girls ; 
 she kept the younger, and married the other to Delisle, 
 her steward. 
 
 La Foresterie to whose ears (during these commis- 
 sions with which he had been intrusted) some strange 
 revelations had come, quitted the house disgusted with 
 the service of such a mistress. The marchioness, on 
 parting with him , addressed him in these words : " If 
 you are indiscreet enough to reveal one word that you 
 have heard from these girls, the Quinets, I shall punish 
 you by the dagger of my steward Delisle." Having 
 thus fortified her position, she believed herself safe 
 from any attack ; but it happened that a person of the 
 name of Prudent Berger, gentleman and page of the 
 Marquis de Saint-Maixent, who was in the confidence 
 of his master, and had been to visit him at the Con- 
 ciergerie, where he was imprisoned, threw some strange 
 lights upon this affair. The marquis had told him the 
 whole story of the accouchement of the countess, and 
 the abduction of the child. 
 
 "I am astonished, monsieur," the page had answered, 
 " that having so many troublesome affairs hanging over 
 your head at present, you do not lighten your conscience 
 of this one." 
 
 " It is my purpose, " replied the marquis, " to give up 
 this child to his father ; I have been enjoined to do so 
 by a priest, to whom I confessed having carried off the 
 grandson of a marshal of France, and the son of the 
 governor of a province." 
 
 The marquis was permitted to leave his prison from 
 
284 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 time to time upon parole. This will not surprise those 
 who know how strong a reliance was placed in those 
 days upon the honour of a gentleman, even although he 
 were the greatest criminal. The marquis, profiting by 
 this privilege, took the page to see a beautiful child, 
 about seven years old. 
 
 " Page," said he, " look well at this child, that you may 
 recognise him when I send you to inquire about him." 
 
 He afterward confessed to the page that this was the 
 son of the Comte de Saint-Geran, of whom he had 
 spoken to him. These reports were spread at a time 
 when other proceedings had commenced against the mar- 
 quis, which left him no means of struggling against the 
 discovery of his crimes. Officers of justice were sent to 
 the Conciergerie, but the gaolers stopped them on their 
 entrance, and informed them that the marquis was ill, 
 and engaged with a clergyman from whom he was receiv- 
 ing the sacrament. As they insisted upon admission, 
 the officers of the prison led the way to his cell. They 
 met the clergyman coming out, who called to them to 
 send immediately for persons to whom the marquis had 
 a secret to reveal ; that he was in a desperate state, and 
 had confessed that he had poisoned himself. The party 
 entered the cell. M. de Saint-Maixent was on his 
 truckle-bed, rolling about in agony, now howling like a 
 wild beast, now talking wildly and incoherently. 
 
 " Monsieur le Comte — send for him — the Comtesse 
 de Saint-Geran — why do they not come ? " 
 
 The officers drew near, and urged him to explain 
 himself. 
 
 The marquis fell into a swoon; when he again opened 
 his eyes he went on as before. 
 
 " Send for the countess. I wish their forgiveness — 
 1 will tell them all!" 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G£RAN: 285 
 
 To induce him to speak, one of the officers said that 
 the count was there. The marquis turned toward 
 them, faintly muttering, " I will tell you — " But 
 he suddenly stopped, uttered one fearful cry, and 
 expired. 
 
 It now appeared as if fate had resolved to stop every 
 tongue from which the truth might escape. Neverthe- 
 less, this death-bed avowal of a revelation to make to 
 the Comte de Saint-G^ran, together with the deposition 
 of the clergyman who attended the dying man, made a 
 considerable addition in the evidence. 
 
 The court, collecting all the circumstances of the case 
 which we have related, drew from them a body of proof 
 which convinced every one of the truth. The carrier, 
 the nurses, and the servants were brought forward; the 
 various adventures of the child were traced, from the 
 time of the accouchement until his arrival at the village 
 of Descoutaux. 
 
 The judicial authorities, in tracing the origin of the 
 crime, could not avoid criminating the Marquise de 
 Bouill^; but there is reason to believe that they were 
 prevented from this by a great effort of the Comte de 
 Saint-Geran, who could not make up his mind to 
 destroy his sister, whose dishonour would have been 
 reflected upon himself. The marchioness brooded over 
 her remorse in solitude, and never reappeared in society. 
 She died some time afterward, carrying to the grave the 
 burden of her guilty secret. 
 
 The court of Moulins finally passed sentence upon 
 the midwife, accused and convicted of having carried 
 off and concealed the countess's child, by which she was 
 condemned to be hanged, after being put to the torture. 
 The woman appealed against the sentence, and was after- 
 ward removed to the Conciergerie. 
 
286 CELEBRATED CR/MES. 
 
 The proofs thus successively brought forward by these 
 proceedings had already partially opened the eyes of the 
 noble pair at Saint-Geran, and the affection which 
 nature had long since planted in their breasts did the 
 rest. They had now no remaining doubts that their 
 page was no other than their son, and having made him 
 throw off his menial dress, he was saluted by the titles 
 due to his rank, and was called the Comte de la Palice. 
 
 In the mean time a person named Sequeville in- 
 formed the countess of an important discovery made by 
 him: this was that, in the year 1642, a child had been 
 baptised at Saint Jean-en-Greve, and that a woman of 
 the name of Pigoreau had been the principal party in 
 the ceremony. A thorough investigation was instituted 
 upon this intelligence, and it was discovered that the 
 child had been suckled in the village of Torcy. 
 
 The child, when shown, in the presence of the court, 
 to the nurses and the witnesses at Torcy, was instantly 
 recognised by them, as well from the colour of his hair 
 and eyes as from the mark of the midwife's fingers 
 upon his head, which was still plainly visible. This 
 indelible proof of the woman's crime became the prin- 
 cipal evidence against her. The witnesses deposed that, 
 upon the child being visited by Pigoreau, accompanied 
 by a person who had the appearance of a man of quality, 
 she frequently repeated that he was the son of a great 
 nobleman, who had been confided to her care, and who, 
 she trusted, would be the means of making, not only 
 her fortune, but also the fortunes of all those who had 
 assisted in bringing him up. The child's godfather, 
 the grave-digger Paul Marmion, the grocer Eaguenet, in 
 whose hands the two thousand livres had been deposited, 
 Pigoreau's servant, who had heard her say that the 
 count was forced to take this child, and several wit- 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAINT-G&RAN. 287 
 
 nesses who had heard her say that he was of too noble 
 birth to wear the livery of a page, made all together aa 
 unbroken chain of evidence ; but this was not the whole. 
 It was at Pigoreau's house that the Marquis de Saint- 
 Maixent, accompanied by his page, had visited the 
 child, who, residing at the hStel de Saint-G^ran, fre- 
 quently went to see her as his mother. Prudent Berger, 
 the marquis's page, instantly recognised the woman 
 Pigoreau, and also identified the child as being the 
 same he had seen at her house, and whose story the 
 marquis had told him. These and other circumstances 
 which transpired rendered it necessary to extend the 
 accusation. A summons was issued against Pigoreau, 
 who had not been involved in the previous proceedings. 
 
 The widow of the Due de Ventadour, daughter of the 
 wife of the deceased Marechal de Saint -G^ran by her 
 second marriage, and sister of the count on the father's 
 side, together with the Comtesse du Lude, daughter of 
 the Marquise de Bouille, from whom the young count 
 would carry off the rich succession of M. de Saint- 
 Geran, took great interest in this profceeding, and spoke 
 of entering the lists against him. Pigoreau sought 
 them out, and concerted joint measures with them. 
 Then began that celebrated trial which long engrossed 
 the attention of all France, — of a case similar to that 
 decided by Solomon, in which a child was claimed by 
 two mothers. 
 
 The Comte de Saint-Geran's adversaries in this cause 
 were Pigoreau and the ladies Du Ludo and De Venta- 
 dour. These ladies, doubtless, were sincere in disbe- 
 lieving the existence of the crime ; for if they had been 
 aware of the truth, it is to be presumed they would not 
 have been capable of holding out so long and so obsti- 
 nately. The midwife had fallen sick in prison; but 
 
288 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 they made common cause with her, and it was resolved 
 that the parties accused should appeal against the crimi- 
 nal proceedings; that Pigoreau should petition against 
 the judgment ordering her personal appearance and con- 
 frontation with the witnesses: and lastly, in order to 
 create a greater diversion in their favour, that Pigoreau 
 should deny the maternity of the countess by reclaiming 
 the child as her own; and that the ladies should main- 
 tain that the accoucJiement of the countess was a mere 
 fabrication, which had been arranged in order that she 
 might adopt another child as her own. To put on a 
 greater appearance of disinterestedness, the two ladies 
 pretended that they had not had any previous under- 
 standing with Pigoreau. 
 
 At this juncture, the midwife died in prison of a 
 disease aggravated by grief and remorse. After her 
 death, her son Guillemin confessed that she had often 
 told him that the countess had been delivered of a son, 
 whom Baulieu had carried off, and that the child of 
 whom Baulieu had undertaken the charge at the hotel 
 de Saint-Geran was the same who had been formerly 
 carried off by him ; this young man added that he had 
 concealed this truth as long as it could prove injurious 
 to his mother, and further, that the ladies De Ventadour 
 and Du Lude had assisted her in prison with their 
 money and advice. 
 
 The petition of the parties accused and the interven- 
 tion of the ladies were discussed in seven sittings of the 
 three chambers united. The trial crept on with all the 
 slowness and against all the impediments of those times. 
 After long and specious pleadings on both sides, Biguon, 
 the advocate-general, took the side of the Comte and 
 Comtesse de Saint-Geran; and by a judgment of the 
 Court of the Tournelle, on the 18th of August, 1657, the 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SArNT-G&RAN. 289 
 
 appeals of the ladies and the accused parties were dis- 
 missed, with fines and costs, and Pigoreau was pro- 
 hibited from quitting the town and suburbs of Paris, on 
 pain of conviction. 
 
 The ladies Du Lude and De Ventadour, and their 
 party, were at first much cast down by this reverse of 
 fortune, but they soon renewed the attack with greater 
 vigour than ever. These ladies, who, in all the exami- 
 nations , had taken Pigoreau with them in their carriage, 
 suggested to her, as a means of keeping back the sen- 
 tence, that she should present a new petition, demand- 
 ing tliat the witnesses of the alleged pregnancy might 
 be confronted with her. The court upon the 28th of 
 August, 1658, issued an order to that effect, but with 
 the condition that Pigoreau should within three days 
 surrender herself a prisoner in the Conciergerie. 
 
 This proceeding, of which Pigoreau dreaded the con- 
 sequences, terrified her to such a degree that, after 
 weighing in her mind the profit she might derive from 
 the trial, which would be lost to her by flight, against 
 the danger in which she was placing her own life by 
 thus venturing into the hands of the law, she gave up 
 her cause, and secretly fled for refuge abroad. This last 
 circumstance seemed sufficient to discourage the two 
 ladies from any further resistance, but they were not yet 
 at the end of their resources, or their obstinacy. 
 
 Pigoreau having been outlawed, and the proceedings 
 against the other accused parties being ripe for judgment, 
 the Comte de Saint-Geran set ofl' for the Bourbonnais, 
 in order to carry into effect the decree ordering the con- 
 frontation of witnesses. 
 
 He had scarcely arrived in the province when he was 
 obliged to interrupt his labours to receive the king 
 and the queen-mother, who passed through Moulins in 
 
 VOL I. — 19 
 
290 CELEBRATED CRIMES. 
 
 returning from Lyons. He presented the young Comte 
 de la Palice to their Majesties as his son, and they 
 received him as such ; but during the visit of the king 
 and queen, the Comte de Saint-Gr&an was taken ill, 
 probably exhausted by the zeal which he had shown, in 
 the midst of his own affairs, to give their Majesties a 
 proper reception. During his illness, which lasted only 
 a week, he made his will, in which he renewed his 
 recognition of his son, named as his executors M. de 
 la Barriere, intendant of the province, and the Sieur 
 Vialet, treasurer of France, and committed to their care 
 the termination of the cause. 
 
 His last words were of his wife and child, his only 
 regret being that he left their cause unsettled. He died 
 on the 31st of January, 1659. 
 
 The two ladies De Ventadour and Du Lude obtained 
 letters of administration as heiresses of the Comte de 
 Saint-Geran. They appealed at the same time from 
 the sentence of the lieutenant-general of the province, 
 which intrusted the tutelage of the young count to his 
 mother, the countess, and his guardianship to the Sieur 
 de Bompr^. The countess, on the other hand, appealed 
 against the confirmation of the letters of administra- 
 tion, and did everything in her power to bring back the 
 contest to the Court of the Tournelle. The ladies 
 carried their appeal into the supreme court, maintain- 
 ing that they were not parties to the proceedings in the 
 Tournelle. 
 
 We shall not carry our readers further into the laby- 
 rinth of the proceedings which followed, or give a 
 recital of the stratagems and counter-stratagems which 
 the spirit of litigation suggested to the contending par- 
 ties. The countess, at the end of three years, obtained, 
 upon the 9th of April, 1661, a decree, by which the 
 
THE COMTESSE DE SAIJVT-G£EAN. 291 
 
 king in person referred the whole proceedings to the 
 court composed of the three chambers united. 
 
 The countess was now once more upon her former 
 field of battle. The advocates and attorneys on both 
 sides exhausted their skill and resources, and displayed 
 their legal tactics in mountains of voluminous pleadings, 
 which are still extant. After a new course of proce- 
 dure, apparently interminable, and pleadings longer 
 and more complicated than ever, a final judgment was 
 at length pronounced, fully recognising the rights of the 
 young count, as the Comte de Saint-Geran's legitimate 
 son, and dismissing, with costs, the claims of the ladies 
 De Ventadour and Du Lude. Pigoreau at the same 
 time was condemned to be hanged, if apprehended; if 
 not, to be hanged in effigy in the Place de Greve. 
 
 Never, perhaps, was there a cause more obstinately 
 contested on both sides, especially on the side by which 
 it was lost. As \f> the countess, she took it so deeply to 
 heart that she often told the judges, while canvassing 
 them (in the fashion of the time), that if they refused 
 to recognise her son, she would marry him, and endow 
 him with all her property. 
 
 The young Comte de la Palice, who, by his father's 
 death, became Comte de Saint-Geran, married, in 1667, 
 Claude PranQoise Madeleine de Varignies, only daughter 
 of PrauQois de Manfreville and Marguerite Jourdain 
 de Canisi. He had only one daughter, who took the 
 veil; and his death, at the age of fifty-five, was the 
 extinction of this noble family. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
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