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diff --git a/old/53475-0.txt b/old/53475-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 0778126..0000000 --- a/old/53475-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,11974 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The End of the Middle Ages, by A. Mary F. Robinson - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - -Title: The End of the Middle Ages - -Author: A. Mary F. Robinson - -Release Date: November 7, 2016 [EBook #53475] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE END OF THE MIDDLE AGES *** - - - - -Produced by KD Weeks, deaurider and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note: - -This version of the text cannot represent certain typographical effects. -Italics are delimited with the ‘_’ character as _italic_. Superscripts, -e.g. the abbreviation for ‘folio’, are indicated as ‘f^o’ or ‘f^{os}’, -where there are more than one character. - -Minor errors, attributable to the printer, have been corrected. Please -see the transcriber’s note at the end of this text for details regarding -the handling of any issues encountered during its preparation. - -Footnotes, which appeared at the bottom of the page, have been moved to -appear after the paragraph in which they are referenced. They have been -renumbered sequentially for uniqueness. - - THE END OF - THE MIDDLE AGES - - ESSAYS AND QUESTIONS IN HISTORY - - - - - BY - A. MARY F. ROBINSON - (_Madame James Darmesteter_) - - - - - LONDON - T FISHER UNWIN - 26 PATERNOSTER SQUARE - MDCCCLXXXIX - - - - -[Illustration] - - - - - DEDICATION. - -[Illustration] - - -MY DEAR MR. SYMONDS,—_I send you a little book; different from the many -volumes, plump with documents and the dignity of History, which I -intended for you long ago. But, since I have no better thing to offer, -take—dear Master—these rough and scattered pages. For to whom, if not to -you, should I dedicate the book? When I look back, I see you at my side -in all my studies; for the last ten years, there is not one of them -which has not been confided to you, and, most of all, my dreams of -History. So that whatever I write belongs in some sort to you; but -especially this little volume of which we talked so much in your study -at Davos two years ago. Do you remember how you guided me through the -innumerable pages of Litta and of Muratori in quest of the secret of the -French Claim to Milan? We did not find much of that, but we found so -many better things; and, best of all, the happy hours which you -illuminated! Hours in which you evoked for me, as we plunged deeper and -deeper into your Chronicles, the great figures of the Past. At first -they rose before me, pale and mute—silent and immaculate as the white -recesses of your Alps; but, at the touch of your wand, they assumed -their ancient colour and consistence—the very smile, the gait, the -accent, the passions, that had moved them once beneath this sun that has -survived them; their voices magically issued out of the silent yellow -pages; the sound of their battles clashed anew along your windless -valleys and eagle-haunted mountain tops. And, once alive, they remained -alive for me._ - -_As I sat and wondered, a new desire awoke in me, an eager wish to seize -these brilliant apparitions, to strip them of their faded purple, to -strip them of their form and colour, to lay them bare to their innermost -tissue and catch the reason and the secret of their being._ - -_And, first of all, to understand exactly what they did, and when, and -why. Our beautiful chronicles were not always quite precise. I began to -see that what I wanted must be sought in manuscripts and foreign -archives. And, half afraid, I told you of my project for exchanging a -cheerful holiday in Switzerland against a week or two of dull research -in Paris. Since then I have worked long and hard, in Paris, in London, -in Florence, and the writing of dead hands has grown familiar to me; but -I have never forgotten that it was first in the solitude of your lofty -valley, that my task grew plain before my mind. And now to whom, if not -to you should I offer these scattered ruins of the thing undone—these -first ineffectual sketches of that_ History of the French in Italy, -_which still I mean to write? From Davos they took their flight; let -them seek the nest again!_ - -_If I had better profited by your lessons and your example, it would not -have been a mere sheaf of fragments that I should have offered you -to-day, but a Book, a solid and coherent whole consistently animated, in -all the complexity and the unity of its subject, by an epoch, an idea, a -man, or an event. Nothing else is really durable, permanently useful. It -is true that I have tried (and may the candour of this avowal excuse its -weakness!)—yes, I have tried, after the manner of essayists, to give an -apparent unity to my fragments by means of a title, large and -comfortable as the cloak of charity which covers in its vague expanse a -host of strangers._ - -_For, after all, what has Schwester Katrei to do with Charles VIII., or -Isotta of Rimini with Mechtild of Magdeburg? Shall I avow that the -volume is really the fragmentary essays towards two unwritten -histories—one of the house of Hohenstaufen, the other of the French in -Italy? Also I can imagine you remarking that, from the thirteenth -century to the sixteenth, my Middle Ages take long a-dying:_ - - “_Les gens que vous tuez se portent assez bien._” - -_And you might add that in a book on the end of the Middle Ages, it is -strange to find not a line on the Loss of Constantinople, and not a -chapter on the invention of Printing or the Discovery of America._ - -_What can I do but acknowledge my incompleteness? Nay, I will even -confess to you that I have my private doubts whether the Middle Ages are -over yet—whether any period comes to an end at a given epoch, but does -not rather still subsist, diminished yet puissant, stealing in unnoticed -currents along the vast veins and secret fabric of the world. In many a -turn of thought and habit, in many a disregarded constitution—in May Day -and Manor Court, in the Land laws and the Judenhetze—the Middle Ages are -not over yet. Here and there they reappear and startle us in unexpected -corners. That form of Nature which we know as History is, like every -other evolution of Nature, too complex to be accurately fixed in words. -Words only give the vague surroundings; they are the ill-fitting, -ready-made clothes of a thought._ - -_Therefore, despite their official end, we may doubt whether we be done -with the Middle Ages. And yet you will agree with me that the personages -of my essays belong no longer wholly to the age in which they lived. -Something came to an end then; something slowly began. Race of Cain and -race of Abel, mystics lost in ecstasy, or captains of prey and -plunder,—yet Eckhart, the forerunner of Hegel, and the sinister -Giangaleazzo dreaming in a different fashion the dream of Count Cavour, -was each unconsciously a precursor of the Modern Age._ - - * * * * * - -_The Beguines, bringing the dissolvent of mysticism to the authority of -Rome; the Pope, in quitting his true capital for Avignon; the Cardinals -by opening the Schism: these, between them, have invented the -Reformation.... Giangaleazzo Visconti, when he made his daughter of -Orleans his heir, prepared the battles of Marignano and Pavia, and -condemned Francis I. to his captivity in Spain. Even as the Feud of -Orleans and Burgundy began the long rivalry of Francis and the Emperor, -the great descendants of those angry houses.... Meanwhile the numerous -invasions of Italy under the Dukes of Orleans, and still later, the -triumphal journey of Charles VIII., brought back to France the splendour -of the Renaissance. Thus Hallam closes the Middle Ages with the taking -of Naples, in 1494. However this be, if you are indulgent, dear Master, -you may consider my essays a very humble and inadequate Introduction to -the study of your Sixteenth Century._ - -_Perhaps I am the only reader who will have learned anything from the -little book. And, after all, I am contented that it should be so. It is -so much pleasanter to learn than to instruct; and in learning one meets -with so many friends and helpers. I cannot tell you here of all who have -befriended me, but I must at least mention to you the names of Canon -Creighton, unfailing critic and sympathizer; of Mr. Bryce, who reached -out an experienced hand to me and spared me several more mistakes in -Feudal Law; of Mr. H.F. Brown of Venice, who procured me my Venetian -transcripts; of Professor Villari and Professor Paoli of Florence (it -was the latter who taught me Palæography); and of Comte Albert de -Circourt of Paris, in whom I have found a quite invaluable adviser and -correspondent,—for probably no historian in Europe is so familiar with -the Lombard schemes of Louis d’Orléans as he._ - - * * * * * - -_To you I owe the largest debt of all. It is not only for the writing of -a book I thank you here--_ - - _Ever sincerely yours_, - - A. MARY F. DARMESTETER. - - - - - CONTENTS. - -[Illustration] - - - THE BEGUINES AND THE WEAVING BROTHERS.> - PAGE - - In 1180, Lambert of Liége founds the first Beguinage; the 8 - rapid spread of the Order; invention of the kindred - guild of the Beghards or Fratres Textores - - In 1216 the invention of the Tertiary Orders of St. Dominic 12 - and St. Francis supplies a monastic equivalent for - Beguinism - - Beguinism is awhile preserved from decadence by the prestige 14 - of Mechtild of Magdeburg - - After her death, heresy and mysticism swiftly undermine 24 - the Beguine Orders - - Opinions of the Beguines 25 - - The Church resolves on their suppression 29 - - The plague of the Wandering Orders 30 - - The Beguines are absorbed into the Tertiary Orders 31 - - The Beguines of Strasburg join the Dominican Order 32 - - And heresy begins to appear among the Dominicans of 33 - Strasburg - - Meister Eckhart and his doctrines 33 - - Swester Katrei 34 - - The Beguines are suppressed; but their ideas, stealthily 38 - kept alive in quiet places, burst out again in the XVI. - century - - THE CONVENT OF HELFTA. > - - Religious distinction of Thuringia in the 13th century 45 - - Gertrude of Helfta enters the Convent of Rodardesdorf 46 - about 1234; arrival of her sister Mechtild - - Life in the Convent 48 - - In 1251 Gertrude is elected Abbess 55 - - And removes the Convent to her Castle of Helfta 56 - - Mechtild of Magdeburg enters the Convent, 1265 57 - - The miracles of St. Gertrude 61 - - Death of Mechtild of Magdeburg 67 - - Illness of St. Gertrude 68 - - Her death 71 - - THE ATTRACTION OF THE ABYSS. > - - The science of Mysticism 74 - - The bottom of the Soul 75 - - The Soul and God alone real, the world non-existent 75 - - The bottom of the Soul is Nothingness 8 - - God is the supreme Non-Existence 82 - - And created Matter _purum nihil_ 84 - - The world is Nothing 85 - - Superiority of the position of the Mystics to the position 87 - of Theologians - - THE SCHISM. > - - The Pope comes to Avignon. The Popes remain there 95 - seventy years. In 1377 the Pope re-enters Rome - - Changed aspect of Rome 96 - - Robert of Geneva leads the Papal armies against the Italians 97 - on revolt - - Death of Gregory XI. The Conclave in Rome 97 - - Bartolommeo Prignano is elected 97 - - Triumph of the Italian party 98 - - The unpopularity of Prignano as Urban VI. 99 - - The rumour grows that his election was invalid. In 100 - September, 1378, Robert of Geneva is elected Pope at - Fondi as Clement VII. - - The Schism 100 - - VALENTINE VISCONTI. > - - Birth of Valentine Visconti, 1366 102 - - Her parentage and childhood 103 - - The rise of her father, Giangaleazzo 104 - - Description of Valentine 107 - - Conquests of Giangaleazzo 110 - - Valentine Visconti is betrothed to Louis, only brother of 111 - Charles VI. of France - - Reasons for the marriage 112 - - The dowry of Valentine 113 - - Antagonism of Prince Louis to his uncle of Burgundy 115 - - Burgundy resists the marriage 116 - - Valentine arrives at Court 118 - - Description of the King and Orleans 119 - - Mediæval Paris 122 - - Ascendancy of Valentine over the King 127 - - Her husband acquires the Duchy of Orleans, 1391 128 - - The King goes mad 129 - - The people suspect Orleans 131 - - And say the Duke of Orleans is a wizard 133 - - Madness of the King 134 - - People say that Valentine is a witch, and that she and her 137 - husband compass the King’s madness - - Reasons for popular irritation against Valentine 138 - - Rivalry of France and Visconti in Genoa 139 - - Visconti and Orleans play into each other’s hands 140 - - The Kingdom of Adria 145 - - Death of Clement VII. 146 - - France checkmates Orleans and Visconti in Genoa 147 - - There is talk in France of a Lombard campaign 149 - - But the disaster of Nicopolis compels the French to keep 150 - friends with Milan - - Nicopolis 151 - - Tyranny of Orleans in France 156 - - Death of Giangaleazzo Visconti 162 - - Orleans leads an army into Lombardy 164 - - And suddenly returns to Paris 165 - - The King bestows on him the royal claim to Pisa 165 - - The Florentines take Pisa 167 - - And Orleans turns his ambition towards Luxemburg, to the 169 - detriment of Burgundy - - Orleans is murdered in Paris 170 - - Burgundy avows the deed 173 - - Valentine struggles to vindicate her husband’s memory 174 - - She dies broken-hearted 178 - - THE FRENCH CLAIM TO MILAN. > - - Valentine Visconti brings the Milanese succession into the 181 - House of Orleans - - Her marriage contract provides that on extinction of male 184 - descent she shall inherit Milan - - The Duke of Milan thus disposes of an Imperial fief 186 - - Ambiguity of his conduct and intention 189 - - He intends to secure himself equally against France and 190 - against the Empire - - Unsubstantiality of Imperial power 192 - - The will of Giangaleazzo Visconti confirms the French claim 193 - to Milan - - Fate of the children of Valentine 196 - - Orleans and Angoulême, in 1441, send Dunois to Milan to 197 - demand the restitution of Asti from their uncle Filippo - Maria Visconti - - Illness of the Duke of Milan 199 - - The rival claims of his heirs 200 - - He talks of adopting the Dauphin Louis 202 - - Meanwhile Louis and Savoy plan the conquest of Milan 203 - - League between the Dauphin and the Duke of Milan 205 - - Death of the Duke of Milan 206 - - His will 207 - - The French prepare to assert the rights of Orleans 209 - - Raynouard du Dresnay begins the campaign 210 - - The Duke of Orleans arrives at Asti, October 17, 1447 213 - - He sends an embassy to Venice asking aid 215 - - The Venetians procrastinate 217 - - Intrigues of Savoy 220 - - The Venetians determine to assassinate Francesco Sforza 221 - - Suddenly the Milanese accept Sforza 229 - - His position as regards Orleans, and before the feudal law 231 - - The Venetians again determine to assassinate him 233 - - Efforts of Sforza to legalize his position 237 - - The Dauphin promises the Venetians to invade Italy, and 240 - dispossess Sforza - - In December, 1453, Venice incites the Dauphin to seize 241 - the Milanese and expel Sforza—She professes her - readiness to aid him with men or money; or she will do - as much for the Duke of Orleans in the same undertaking. - (A note quotes Venetian documents to show how, about - the same time, Genoa, Milan, Venice, and Florence were - taking measures to secure Italy against invasion.) - - In April, 1459, Venice makes peace with Sforza 242 - - Opposite policy of Charles VII. and the Dauphin 243 - - Death of King Charles VII. 245 - - Louis XI. becomes the firm ally of Sforza, but discards 245 - Savoy, Orleans, Dunois, and Anjou - - In December, 1463, Louis XI. cedes to Sforza the French 245 - claim to Genoa - - Death of Charles, Duke of Orleans 246 - - Death of Louis XI., August 30, 1483 247 - - January 16, 1484. Venice sends to Charles VIII. and to 250 - the young Duke of Orleans pointing out the French - claim to Venice and to Naples - - The Embassy is renewed in February; but a new peace in 251 - Italy and the struggles of Orleans for the Regency in - France postpone any further plans for a French invasion - - The invasion of Italy by Charles VIII. takes place in 1494 252 - at the instigation, not of Naples, but of Milan - - Illness detains Orleans at Asti, within a league or two of 252 - Lodovico Sforza at Milan - - Venice and Florence begin to intrigue with Orleans, and 254 - suggest that the French take Milan instead of Naples - - Giangaleazzo Sforza, Duke of Milan, dies in prison 257 - - Rights of the Regent, Lodovico il Moro 257 - - A diploma from the Emperor declares him Duke 256, 257 - - The relation between the French and Lodovico Sforza 258 - become strained - - In March, 1495, Venice, Milan, the Emperor, Castile, and 260 - Arragon unite in a league to expel the French, unless - they retire without offence - - In June Orleans takes Novara 263 - - The blockade of Novara. Orleans is released by composition 264 - - Peace between France and the League is concluded in 265 - October, 1495—The French evacuate Italy - - Florence entreats Orleans to invade Italy, and insists upon 266 - his rights to Milan, 1497 - - Orleans refuses to leave France 266 - - Death of Charles VIII. 267 - - Orleans becomes King of France as Louis XII. 267 - - Louis XII. conquers Lombardy, 1499 268 - - The Emperor confirms his victories, and annals the 269 - privileges bestowed on Lodovico Sforza - - Rights of Louis XII. and of Francis I. to Milan 269 - - The French lose Milan at the Battle of Pavia 270 - - Efforts to regain Milan, 1527-1536 271 - - The treaty of Crépy 271 - - The death of Charles II. of Orleans leaves Milan to the 272 - Spaniards - - THE MALATESTAS OF RIMINI. > - - Carlo Malatesta, Lord of Rimini, being childless, adopts his 274 - dead brother’s three natural sons in 1427 - - And procures their legitimation before his death in 1429 275 - - He is succeeded by the eldest, Galeotto, a visionary ascetic 276 - - In 1430 Gismondo, his younger brother, drives back the 279 - Papal armies and delivers Rimini, being at the time - twelve years of age - - Galeotto expels the Jews 279 - - And dies 280 - - Gismondo succeeds, drives back the armies of Urbino and 281 - Pesaro, betroths himself to the daughter of Carmagnola, - and marries Ginevra of Este, 1432 - - He rebuilds the Rocca, and becomes acquainted with Isotta 284 - degli Atti - - Character of Isotta 285 - - In 1440 the wife of Gismondo dies suddenly—In 1442 he 287 - marries, not Isotta, but the daughter of Sforza - - He rebuilds the church of Rimini in honour of Isotta 287 - - Architecture and decoration 287-294 - - Sudden death of Polissena Sforza 294 - - Triumphs and treacheries of Gismondo as a captain 295 - - He deserts from Arragon to Anjou 296 - - His reverses begin 296 - - At this moment his enemy, Æneas Sylvius Piccolomini, is 296 - elected Pope, 1453 - - The effigy of Gismondo is buried in the streets of Rome, and 297 - he is excommunicated - - He seeks help in vain of the Angevines at Naples 297 - - He marries Isotta, and leaves her as Regent in Rimini 297 - - He hires himself to the Venetians, conducts the campaign 298 - of the Morea, and brings home the bones of Gemisthus - Pletho in 1465 - - Ruin and death of Gismondo Malatesta 299 - - THE LADIES OF MILAN. > - - Murder of Galeazzo Maria Sforza in 1476 300 - - The Duchess Bonne and her children leave the conduct of 300 - affairs to Cecco Simonetta, secretary of the late Duke - and of his father, the great Francesco Sforza - - Simonetta exiles the brothers of the late Duke 301 - - He falls out with the favourite of the Duchess, who 302 - persuades her to recall her brother-in-law, Lodovico - il Moro - - Lodovico returns secretly to Milan; beheads Simonetta 303 - - And shuts his two little nephews in the Tower 303 - - He rules Milan by the title of Regent, and exiles the 304 - Duchess - - His nephew, Giangaleazzo Sforza, marries Isabel of Arragon, 305 - granddaughter of the King of Naples - - Lodovico Sforza marries Beatrice d’Este, daughter of the 306 - Duke of Ferrara - - Jealousies of Beatrice and Isabel 306 - - Isabel appeals to Naples, and induces her father and 306 - grandfather to declare war on Lodovico in defence of - the rights of Giangaleazzo - - Lodovico invites the French to invade Italy in support of 307 - the French claim to Naples, 1494 - - Death of the Duchess Beatrice, January, 1496 309 - - Sforza and Visconti portraits 312 - - THE FLIGHT OF PIERO DE’ MEDICI. > - - Charles VIII. invades Italy, 1494 315 - - Enthusiasm of the people and of Savonarola for the 315-319 - French - - Savonarola 319 - - Piero Capponi 320 - - Piero de’ Medici 321 - - His light-minded and frivolous government leaves Florence 322 - at the mercy of the French - - Piero secretly leaves Florence and goes to make terms with 325 - Charles VIII. - - Assents to the extravagant demands of the King 331 - - Indignation of Florence 335 - - Piero is expelled the city 337 - - THE FRENCH AT PISA. > - - Gabriel’ Maria Visconti, Lord of Pisa, declares himself the 340 - vassal of the King of France, 1404 - - Marshal Boucicaut is sent as French Governor to Genoa, 341 - 1402 - - Character of Boucicaut 341 - - His schemes for capturing a town in Lombardy 341 - - But his allies, the Florentines, are too busy in laying 342 - siege to Pisa - - Louis of Orleans marches towards Lombardy, 1403 343 - - And suddenly returns to France 343 - - Boucicaut having accepted Visconti as the vassal of the 345 - King for Pisa - - The King transfers to Orleans all the royal rights on Pisa 345 - - Florence remonstrates with Boucicaut, her ally, asserting 345-8 - that she has more right than the French have to Pisa - - Meanwhile the Pisans expel Gabriel’ Maria Visconti, who 350 - takes refuge at Genoa, and demands succour of the - French King, his liege lord - - Boucicaut attempts to arrange affairs _a l’amiable_ 351 - - The Pisans refuse to accept Gabriel’ Maria, but offer to 351 - give themselves directly to France, even as Genoa had - done before - - Boucicaut induces Gabriel’ Maria to accept a compensation, 352 - and sends a French garrison and a galley of provisions - to Pisa - - The Pisans seize the crew of the galley, cast them into 352 - prison, and provision the city for a long resistance at - Boucicaut’s expense - - Visconti sells Pisa to the Florentines 353 - - Boucicaut persuades the King of France to accept the 354 - Florentines as his vassals for Pisa - - The King agrees and signs a treaty to that effect; yet in 365 - the next year he declares Burgundy and Orleans Lords - of Pisa, and bids Boucicaut help them against the - Florentines. Boucicaut refuses - - The Florentines take Pisa. Anger in France. The Duke of - Orleans casts the Florentine ambassadors into prison: - they are released by his widow after his death - - Seventy years of slavery for Pisa 367 - - But when, in 1494, Charles VIII. of France invades Italy 368 - - He undertakes to maintain the Pisans in their liberties 369 - - The Pisans expel the Florentines, and constitute themselves 369 - a Free Republic - - Divided opinions in the camp of Charles 370 - - Charles solemnly swears to Florence that he will restore 371 - Pisa on his return from Naples - - The Pisans send an advocate to the King in Rome, beseeching 373 - him not to deliver them to Florence - - Louis de Ligny—Luxemburg, with other adherents of the 376 - party of Orleans, favours the Pisans’ cause - - Savonarola meets the King at Poggibonsi, and summons him 378 - to return by Florence - - But the King returns by Pisa, and does not yield the city, 380 - - The King promises to let the Florentines know his decision 385 - so soon as he arrives at Asti - - Meanwhile he leaves Entragues with a French garrison in 385 - Pisa - - The King, arrived at Turin, summons Entragues to yield 388 - Pisa to the Florentines - - Entragues refuses 390 - - He treats with the Pisans 391 - - Pisa becomes nominally a Free Republic 393 - - Distress of the French in Naples 394 - - Distress of Florence 395 - - Milan and Venice intrigue for Pisa 396 - - And Pisa never forgives the French her liberty 396 - - - - - THE BEGUINES AND THE WEAVING - BROTHERS.[1] - - - I. - -With the approach of the thirteenth century, the world awoke from its -long and dreamless sleep. Then began the age of faith, the miraculous -century, starving for lack of bread and nourished upon heavenly roses. -St. Louis and St. Elizabeth, Dominic the eloquent and the fiery -Bonaventura, Thomas Aquinas and Francis the _glorioso poverello di Dio_, -proclaim the enthusiastic spirit of the age. It is an age of chivalry no -less in religion than in love, an age whose somewhat strained and -mystical conception of virtue is sweetened by a new strong impulse of -human pity. The world begins to see; and the green growth of the earth, -the birds of the air, the fishes of the sea, become clear and noticeable -things in the eyes of the saints. The world awakes and feels. Jean de -Matha and Félix de Valois, gentlemen of Meaux, visit the prisons of -France, and redeem many hundred captives from Morocco. On all sides men -begin to love the sick, the poor, the sinful; even to long for sickness -and poverty, as if in themselves they were virtuous; even to wonder -whether sin and evil may not be a holy means for mortifying spiritual -pride. To rescue the captive, to feed the hungry, to nurse the leper, as -unawares Elizabeth of Hungary tended Christ in her Thuringian city—this -is the new ideal of mankind. And this age of feeling is no less an age -of speculation, of metaphysical inquiry, of manifold heresies and -schisms. No new Bernard stops with his earnest dogma the thousand -theories which everywhere arise and spread. - -Footnote 1: - - The principal sources for this and the two following articles are as - follows:—Mosheim, “Institutiones Historiæ Ecclesiasticæ;” Dr. - Schmidt’s “Strasburger Beginen-häuser im Mittelalter” and other pages - by this master of mediæval religious thought; Dr. Preger’s “Geschichte - der deutschen Mystik im Mittelalter;” the volume on “Le Panthéisme - populaire au Moyen Age” of M. Auguste Jundt; Stockl’s “Geschichte der - Philosophie: Meister Eckhardt;” the writings on the School of - Alexandria of M. Vacherot and M. Barthélemy Saint Hilaire; Mr. - Vaughan’s “Half-Hours with the Mystics;” and last, not least, the - sermons of Eckhardt, the poems of Mechtild of Magdeburg, and the - meditations and lives of Saint Gertrude and Saint Mechtild of Helfta. - -The modern age has begun. The saints of the preceding years had been men -of a more militant or monastic turn, dogmatic minds like Bernard of -Clairvaux, Norbert, Thomas à Becket. The era of charity and speculative -thought begins when the twelfth century is drawing near the close. - -From the last year of the eleventh century until the Christians were -finally driven out of Syria in 1291, there had been scarcely a break in -the continual crusade. Throughout the twelfth century this enthusiasm of -pity for the dead Redeemer left in the hands of infidels was maintained -at fever heat. Later it was softened and widened by the new spirit of -charity towards ailing and erring humankind. But during the first -hundred years of the Holy War it absorbed all that was holiest and -purest, most ardent and noblest in European manhood. All went to fall -upon the fields of Palestine, or to return strangely altered after many -years. France, England, Germany, and Flanders, each in her turn -commanded the pious host; but just as these countries were glorious in -the East were they barren and empty at home. Whole districts of corn -land and pasture lapsed again into moss and marsh. Whole countrysides -were thinned of their hale and active men. A vast distress and indigence -spread over Europe. Those were hard years for desolate women. Their -spinning and broidery could not buy them bread, and bitter was the -effort to live until their bread-winners returned. Even when the armies -came back from Palestine there were many who did not return: many had -died of strange Asiatic pestilences, many had not survived the long -journey; the bones of some were bleached on the desert sand, and others -whitened in the sea. And some of them had gained the crown which every -pious soul then strove and yearned to win. They had fallen, as Mechtild -of Magdeburg wished to fall, their heart’s blood streaming under the -feet of heathen. And when the thinned and feeble ranks of the survivors -came to their own country, a very dreadful cry went up from all the -destitute widows in Europe. - -Cruel indeed was their condition. Some, truly, sought for rest and quiet -in the cloister; but in those days the cloister was death to the world. -The charitable orders of Francis and Dominic were as yet undreamed of. -Only the great meditative orders offered absolute renunciation and -absolute seclusion. Timid and clinging hearts could not so utterly -forego their world; many busy energetic spirits felt no vocation for the -dreamy quiet of the cloistered nun. And for these the world was hard. -They must beg the bread which their labour could very seldom earn. One -dreadful trade indeed, which the desires of men leave ever open to the -despair of women, one trade found many followers. But there were pure -and holy women, and venerable women, and dying women, who could not live -in sin. And there might be seen in every market-place miserable and -hungry petitioners, crying, “For God’s sake, give us bread; bread for -the love of Christ!” - -_Swestrones Brod durch Got._ Sisters of bread for the sake of God. The -name often strikes us in later writing. The singular title has become -familiar. For when we read of piteous uncloistered piety, and when we -read of humble merit rebuking the sins of arrogant Churchmen, and in the -account of strange mystical heresies, and in the lists of interdicts and -burnings, we shall often meet in the monkish Latin of Germany and -Flanders that outlandish phrase: we shall hear again of the _Swestrones -Brod durch Got_. - - - II. - -In the year 1180, there lived in Liege a certain kindly, stammering -priest, known from his infirmity as Lambert le Bègue. This man took pity -on the destitute widows of his town. Despite the impediment in his -speech, he was, as often happens, a man of a certain power and eloquence -in preaching. His words, difficult to find, brought conviction when they -came. This Lambert so moved the hearts of his hearers that gold and -silver poured in on him, given to relieve such of the destitute women of -Liege as were still of good and pious life. With the moneys thus -collected, Lambert built a little square of cottages, with a church in -the middle and a hospital, and at the side a cemetery. Here he housed -these homeless widows, one or two in each little house, and then he drew -up a half-monastic rule which was to guide their lives. The rule was -very simple, quite informal: no vows, no great renunciation bound the -_Swestrones Brod durch Got_. A certain time of the day was set apart for -prayer and pious meditation; the other hours they spent in spinning or -sewing, in keeping their houses clean, or they went as nurses in time of -sickness into the homes of the townspeople. They were bidden to be -obedient; and to be chaste so long as they remained of the sisterhood, -but they might marry again at will with no disgrace. If rich women chose -to join the new and unsanctioned guild, they might leave a portion of -their riches to any heir they chose. Thus these women, though pious and -sequestered, were still in the world and of the world; they helped in -its troubles, and shared its afflictions, and at choice they might -rejoin the conflict. - -Soon we find the name _Swestrones Brod durch Got_ set aside for the more -usual title of Beguines, or Beghines. Different authorities give -different origins for this word. Some, too fantastic, have traced the -name to St. Begge, a holy nun of the seventh century. Some have thought -it was taken in memory of the founder, the charitable Lambert le Bègue. -Others think that, even as the Mystics or Mutterers, the Lollards or -Hummers, the Papelhards or Babblers, so the Beguines or Stammerers were -thus nicknamed from their continual murmuring in prayer. This is -plausible; but not so plausible as the suggestion of Dr. Mosheim and M. -Auguste Jundt, who derive the word Beguine from the Flemish verb -_beggen_, to beg. For we know that these pious women had been veritable -beggars; and beggars should they again become. - -With surprising swiftness the new order spread through the Netherlands -and into France and Germany. Every town had its surplus of homeless and -pious widows, and also its little quota of women who wished to spend -their lives in doing good, but had no vocation for the cloister. The -Beguinage, as it was called, became a home and refuge to either class. -Before 1250 there were Beguines, or Begging Sisters, at Tirlemont, -Valenciennes, Douai, Ghent, Louvain, and Antwerp in Flanders; at all the -principal towns in France, especially at Cambray, where they numbered -over a thousand; at Bâle and Berne in Switzerland; at Lübeck, Hamburg, -Magdeburg, and many towns in Germany, with two thousand Beguines at -Cologne and numerous beguinages in the pious town of Strasburg. - -So the order spread, within the memory of a man. Lambert may have lived -to see a beguinage in every great town within his ken; but we hear no -more of him. The Beguines are no longer for Liege, but for all the -world. Each city possessed its quiet congregation; and at any sick-bed -you might meet a woman clad in a simple smock and a great veil-like -mantle, who lived only to pray and to do deeds of mercy. They were very -pious, these uncloistered sisters of the poor. Ignorant women who had -known the utmost perils of life and death, their fervour was warmer, -fonder, more illiterate than the devotion of nuns; they prayed ever as -being lately saved from disgrace and ruin and starvation. Their quiet, -unutterable piety became a proverb, almost a reproach; much as, within -our memories, the unctuous piety of Methodists was held in England. When -the child Elizabeth of Hungary fasted and saw visions in the Wartburg, -the Princess Agnes, her worldly sister-in-law, could find no more cruel -taunt than this: “Think you my brother will marry such a Beguine?” This -is in 1213, only eight-and-thirty years since Lambert built the first -asylum for the destitute widows of Liege. - - - III. - -The success of the Beguines had made them an example; the idea of a -guild of pious uncloistered workers in the world had seized the -imagination of Europe. Before St. Francis and St. Dominic instituted the -mendicant orders, there had silently grown up in every town of the -Netherlands a spirit of fraternity, not imposed by any rule, but the -natural impulse of a people. The weavers seated all day long alone at -their rattling looms, the armourers beating out their thoughts in iron, -the cross-legged tailors and busy cobblers thinking and stitching -together—these men silent, pious, thoughtful, joined themselves in a -fraternity modelled on that of the Beguines. They were called the -Weaving Brothers. Bound by no vows and fettered by no rule, they still -lived the worldly life and plied their trade for hire. Only in their -leisure they met together and prayed and dreamed and thought. Unlettered -men, with warm undisciplined fancies, they set themselves to solve the -greatest mysteries of earth and heaven. Sometimes, in their sublime and -dangerous audacity, they stumbled on a truth; more often they wandered -far afield, led by the will-o’-the-wisp of their own unguided thoughts. -In the long busy hours of weaving and stitching they found strange -answers to the problems of human destiny, and, in their leisure, -breathless and eager, discussed these theories as other men discussed -their chance of better wage. Such were the founders of the great -fraternity of Fratres Textores, or Beghards as in later years the people -more generally called them. And their philosophy is so strangely -abstract and remote that we could not explain it, did we not know that -from time to time some secular priest or wealthy and pious laymen joined -the humble fraternity. And the priest would bring, to their store of dim -wonderings, the Alexandrian theories of the pseudo-Dionysius, then, in -all the monasteries of Christendom, deemed the very corner-stone of -sacred philosophy. We can imagine how eagerly these simple folk would -seize the hallowed fragments of Erigena and of the Areopagite, and how -they would treasure them as holy secrets in the depth of their tender -and mystical souls. We know that now and then a consecrated priest would -join the unsanctioned but pious order of the Beghards; it is no great -stretch of fancy to suppose that from time to time, some Crusader, fresh -from the East, would bring them his memory of Eastern theories; that -some scholar would add a line from Avicenna or Averroes. Through some -channel, it is evident, the Beghards received the last feeble stream of -Alexandrian theory. Their vague, idealistic pantheism is but an echo of -Plotinus and his school. From the monasteries, from the Arabian -commentators on Aristotle, or directly from the East, these fragments of -neoplatonist philosophy must have reached them; and out of them there -should be evolved, first of all, the great metaphysical heresies of the -Middle Ages; and, later on, the habit of mind that should produce the -German Reformation. - - - IV. - -While the Beghards and the Beguines were slowly, imperceptibly nearing -the great abyss of heresy, the creation of two new orders at Rome -insidiously took from them the greater part of their prestige. Until the -Franciscans and Dominicans obtained the sanction of the Pope, the -beguinage had seemed the natural mean between the life of the cloister -and the life of the world. But the new charitable orders had all the -activity, the beneficence of the Beguines, and therewith the friendship -and protection of Rome. For some time longer the Beguines flourished, -still orthodox and reputable; but the order had received its death-blow -on the day when Francis and Dominic obtained the Papal sanction for -their Tertiary Orders of Penitence. - -The tertiary orders of Dominic and Francis were a new departure from the -exclusive theories of Roman monasticism. They were invented for men and -women of holy life, married and still living in the world, who wished -for some nearer association with the Church than belongs to the ordinary -member of a congregation. They took their part in worldly joys and -sorrows, triumphs and failures; but they prayed longer than other -worldly folk, did more good works, looked more for heaven. The -institution of these orders was a wide breach in the barrier which -divides the cloister from the world, the sacred from the profane. They -were, in fact, as the reader has perceived, merely an hierarchic version -of those fraternities which the unconsecrated poor had made among -themselves: Beguines and Beghards protected by the Church. - -Thus the idea of the secular beguinage was transformed into a sacred -thing. The example of the Beguines had been followed by the Church, who, -in consecrating these new orders, made an immense reform in the old -exclusive monastic ideal, a tremendous concession to the new democratic -spirit inspiring all men. Hitherto the cloister had been a refuge and -asylum from the noisy nations without. It had been as an ark, floating -over the stormy waters, offering safety indeed to those inside it, yet -not concerned with the clamorous multitude that drowned and struggled -beyond it in the increasing flood. The aim of Francis and of Dominic was -to quit this aloof and lofty shelter, to go and reprove the erring and -rescue the ignorant, to be the friend and brother of sinners and -publicans, of Magdalens and lepers, to revert, in fact, to the old -democratic ideal of the Christian Church. They were to be poor among the -poor, armed only with the armour of faith. They were to be in the world -the heralds of God. The sisters of the orders were to be humble women, -the brothers mendicant friars. At first they took no more from the world -than the wandering Beguines took in later days—only water, bread, and a -garment. But this strict rule of absolute poverty was soon removed, and -the Dominicans, at all events, were never destitute. - -Each order had its different mission. The Dominicans, the preaching -brothers, should persuade the hard of heart, strengthen the failing, -console the desolate, warn the erring, and exterminate the heretic. Yet, -singularly enough, this most orthodox order, these watch-dogs of the -Lord, were to become in Germany a centre of mystical heresies. The order -of St. Francis, the Lesser Brothers, had a more tender and ecstatic -ideal. They went begging through the world, tending the sick, loving the -helpless, preaching to the birds and the fishes, full of a quaint -compassionate unworldliness, a holy folly. There were few hearts so hard -that, though unshaken by the storms of Dominic, they did not melt before -the sweet Franciscan sanctity. And so the two orders traversed the -world, twin forces and voices of pity. But the chivalrous and militant -pity of Dominic, eager to avenge the outraged Christ continually -crucified by infidels, too often took the form of wrath and burnings, -while Francis loved the erring with a simple human pity. In return the -world bestowed, and still bestows, upon him something of the wondering -compassionate reverence which Eastern nations give to the Pure Fool, the -man unsoiled by the wisdom of the world and still wrapped round with the -simplicity of God. Between them, the two orders were to divide the -Christian world. Sanctioned in the same year and under the same -hospitable rule of Augustine, they went out triumphantly upon their -different missions. Inspired, it is most probable, by the example of the -Beguines, they would soon absorb the secular order into their mighty -forces. And the real decline of Beguinism begins, not in 1250, when -first the secular fraternities became conspicuous for heresy, but on -that day of the year 1216 when the learned Dominic and the visionary -Francis met and embraced each other in the streets of Rome. - - - V. - -At first the external position of the Beguines and the Beghards appeared -in no danger and no disadvantage. Their fraternity had always been a -secular fraternity; their condition of pious laymen was one which -offered sanctity with independence. The beguinages still thrived and -multiplied. In the Low Countries especially, and in Cambray, Strasburg, -and Cologne,—places where mysticism has ever been dear, and -ecclesiastical authority never a welcome yoke—Beguinism grew apace. But -there is no doubt that one great cause which for thirty years averted -the ruin of the secular fraternities was the presence in their midst of -one of the most remarkable women of her century; a woman who, to the -Beguines, was all that St. Elizabeth was to the Franciscans, or that -Catherine of Siena should become to the order of St. Dominic. This -gifted and singular creature was the prophetess Mechtild of Magdeburg. - -We do not know the name of the castle where, in the year 1212, Mechtild -of Magdeburg was born. It cannot have been very far from the city which -was to be her refuge, and whose name she bears. The title of her father -is also lost; but it is certain she came of noble and courtly stock. Her -family were probably religious people, for we know that her brother -Baldwin became one of the Dominicans of Halle. - -Mechtild was, as she herself recalls, the dearest of her parents’ -children; and these courtly and pious Thuringian nobles seem to have -been as proud as they were fond of their little daughter. She received a -liberal education. Her book on the flowing light of Godhead is written -with an energy, sweetness, and variety of style strongly in contrast -with the Gertrudenbuch and the Mechtildenbuch of Helfta. The music of -her verse proves her familiar with the lyrics of the Minnesingers. They -may no doubt have visited her father’s castle. But the little Mechtild -did not dream of poetry and of knights-at-arms. It was later that she -would deplore the poor vain minstrels who in hell weep more tears than -there are waters in the sea.[2] Her thoughts in childhood were all for -the saints in heaven. When she was twelve years old, the little girl was -(as she records it) visited by the Holy Spirit; and from that moment she -desired to quit the world. - -Footnote 2: - - “Der viel arme Spielmann der mit hohem Mŭthe sündliche Eitelkeit - machen kann, der weint in der Hölle mehr Thränen denn alles Wassers - ist in dem Meer.” I like to give the reader a line of Mechtild’s - book—from what I have read of it, that is to say, in the pages of Herr - Preger and elsewhere—to show him the musical lilt of her style, the - emotional charm (foreshadowing Heinrich Suso), and a certain easy - lightness of heart I remember in no other mystical book, except in the - exquisite Fioretti di San Francesco. - -It was a moment of intense spiritual exaltation, this year 1224. Close -at hand in the Wartburg the seventeen-year-old Landgravine Elizabeth was -exciting the wonder of her people by her pieties and sweet austerities. -The bread miraculously turned into heavenly roses, the leper whom she -tended transformed into the shining Christ, the stories of her visions -and her scourgings would certainly be familiar to the little Mechtild. -The Emperor Frederic II. was already collecting his nobles for his -ill-starred and heretic crusade. On Monte Laverna, in this very year, -St. Francis received the stigmata. Blanche of Castile and the child St. -Louis were ruling Paris as King Arthur might have ruled his court at -Camelot, by the authority of love and gentleness. At the same time the -ghastly prevalence of leprosy and pestilence, of war and hideous famine, -made the world as dreadful as heaven was desirable. Those who recall the -condition of Eisenach, as revealed by the life of St. Elizabeth, may -imagine the sights of human suffering which little Mechtild must have -encountered every day. And close by, in the vast woods of Prussia, dwelt -heathen folk who knew of nothing better than this cruel world. In that -very year some of the crusader knights had set out to conquer that pagan -kingdom. Thus with on one hand holy Thuringia and with heathen Prussia -on the other, with war, famine, and pestilence frequent petitioners at -her gates, it is not surprising that the little Mechtild shared the -spiritual fervours of her time, and longed to give herself to Heaven. - -But she did not, like Gertrude and Mechtild of Hackeborn, enter a -convent in her infancy. Most likely she yielded to the entreaties of her -family, “of whom she was ever the dearest.” Year after year passed on, -and Mechtild still dwelt in her father’s castle. Yet, after that one -childish moment of ecstacy, the sweetness and honour of the world were -to her as vain and perishable things. And still she was not visited -again with trance or vision. She was no dreamer, this eager Mechtild, -but a vigorous and healthy girl, in the flower of her beautiful and -lusty youth, alert, passionate, with a mind awake to all the questions -and interest of the world around her. Such a nature is not by instinct a -mystical nature; but the strange contagion of the time had touched her, -and worked slowly through her innermost being. Stronger and stronger -grew the strenuous unworldly prompting: “_without sin, to be disgraced -before the world_.” - -For eleven years the desire waxed and strengthened; for eleven years did -Mechtild combat this desire. Daily it grew more impelling, more -subduing. At last, in the year 1235, the year of the canonization of -Elizabeth, when Mechtild was twenty-three years old, she secretly left -her father’s house, and fled to Magdeburg. She left all behind -her—brothers and sisters, father and mother, “of whom she was the -dearest,” and the courtly honourable life, and the quiet happiness of -love and safety. _Frau Minne, ihr habt mir benommen weltlich Ehre und -allen weltlichen Reichthum!_ Everything indeed she left, to follow the -goading impulse of Sacred Love. - -When she reached the strange city, when she had left far behind her the -distant home where even now her kinsmen would wonder, and miss her, and -make a search, when the night fell on her in Magdeburg, Mechtild desired -a shelter. Weary with her flight, she resolved to ask some nunnery to -lend her its asylum. Within those holy walls she could more truly yield -herself to God. - -She knocked at a convent door, and begged for shelter, saying she -desired to become a nun. But the quiet sisters distrusted this -beautiful, travel-stained young woman of three-and-twenty, without -means, or friends, or reference, alone at night in the turbulent city -streets—this girl who, by her own confession, had fled her father’s -house. Soon those doors were closed against her. There were, however, -many convents in a great archiepiscopal city such as Magdeburg. To -convent after convent went the despairing girl, finding at each, no -doubt, rest for the limbs and food for the body, but in none of all of -them a home. For no religious house would admit this unfriended and -suspicious creature into its pure community. When the last doors had -closed upon her, Mechtild stood in the street, alone in Magdeburg. It -must have come upon her then, I think, that at last her great desire was -granted—_Without sin, she was disgraced before the world._ - -When Mechtild left her parents’ castle, she had chosen Magdeburg to be -her hiding-place, because in that town there lived a friend of her -family. She had thought to stay her heart upon the thought of this -unvisited friend, who might be her last resource in case of extremity. -But now the need was felt, Mechtild did not seek him. He would, she -knew, endeavour to persuade her from the path that she had chosen, and -Mechtild was in need of all her courage. - -So, unfriended, alone, she stood in the streets of Magdeburg. Then she -bethought her of another shelter, humble indeed, but safe. And she had -left home only to be humbled. What humiliation would there have been in -entering, like the dear St. Elizabeth, the holy order of St. Francis? Or -what abasement had she, like her brother, embraced the rule of Dominic, -“dearest to me,” she avers, “of all the saints”? Here there was no -spiritual sacrifice. And what sacrifice of life, of social habit, of -esteem could she have made had she entered one of the great Cistercian -or Benedictine convents, where the nobles of Saxony and Thuringia were -proud to send their daughters? Mechtild was glad that they had rejected -her; it seemed to her that at last, pure of pride, free of weak desire, -she saw her own will made plain and the directing will of God. - -She moved now; she knew what to do and where to go; she was no longer -unguided and alone. She went to the beguinage, the home of mendicant -widows, the almshouse of the holy poor who gave themselves to God. At -that door, which debarred no one from the outer world, Mechtild knocked. -A poor woman opened to her, clad in a plain smock and a great mantle -covering head and shoulders. Such another gown and cloak was lying by, -ready for the welcome Mechtild. She entered the house. - -That night Mechtild stood in her little cell. It was much like any -convent cell; but it was without a convent’s restrictions or its -privileges. Mechtild might quit those walls this year, next year, any -year. She might marry and have children. She had, after all, offered up -no sacrifice of her own body; she was not dead to the world, but was to -live and labour in it more nearly now than in her father’s castle. No -great barrier should stand henceforth between her soul and sin. The -battle was not over; it was but just begun. - -Far easier had been the greater sacrifice, done once and done for ever! -Far more peaceful the quiet nunnery, hallowed to rapture and seclusion! -Mechtild was now the servant only, and not the bride of Christ. She was -a Beguine, not a nun. The accomplished daughter of nobles, she was the -companion of the destitute and lowly. It was better thus, better to be -lowly and despised, even as Christ was despised. All these thoughts of -dismay, rapture, weariness, and exaltation, rushed and clashed through -the tired breast of Mechtild. Then, for a second time, the trance crept -over her, and she sank unconscious into the ever-present arms of God. - -Then, in a vision, Mechtild saw how henceforward her life should be -doubly glorious and doubly beset with peril. For she beheld the angel -and the devil, who to this moment had been permitted to guide her and -assail her, each miraculously changed into twain. Now at her right there -stood a cherub, with gifts and holy wisdom on his azure wings, and a -seraph bearing her a heart of love. But on the left two devils watched -her—two devils who, in all times, have lain in wait for the mystic and -the solitary visionary. And the name of the one was Vain-Glory, and that -of the other Vain-Desire. - - - VI. - -From the night of that vision begins the career of Mechtild and the -history of her visions and her prophecies. At first, indeed, occupied in -conquering her strong and lusty youth, the visions of Mechtild of -Magdeburg are little different from those of any convent saint. Angels -and devils, the beautiful manhood of our Lord, fragments from the Song -of Solomon, the rapture of the Spiritual Nuptials—such are the -inevitable themes. But this woman, we feel, is no mere Gertrude or -Mechtild of Hackeborn. The whole world interests her, and the destinies -of the world. In reading the book in which she wrote her visions, the -book of the flowing light of Godhead, we soon pass over this initial -stage to a second and wider phase. - - “Ich habe gesehen ein Stat; - Ihr Name ist die ewige Hass.” - -These pregnant words begin Mechtild’s “Vision of Hell.” The plan of this -great vision, which beholds, built in succeeding and widening terraces, -the habitations of sinners, with fire and darkness, stench and cold, and -pain in the bottommost pit, no less than the scheme of the poem, which -lashes many a prevalent sin of the Church, both alike recall a far -greater poet yet unborn, one who should also explore the depths of hell -and the heights of heaven, one who should accept as his guide towards -Paradise a certain mysterious Matilda, - - “Cantando come donna innamorata,” - -in whom the learned Herr Preger has recognized our earnest minstrel of -heaven, the loving and singing Mechtild of Magdeburg. - -The form of Mechtild’s visions did not make her popular among the -churchmen of her city. The people caught up the lilting, dancing -measures of her songs. The pious sang her visions. And girls, to whom a -nun had ever seemed a cold and sacred being, could understand the happy -verses of the fearless love of God, in which Mechtild claims for herself -an impulse as natural, as irresistible, as any maiden’s love of her -betrothed:— - - “Das ist eine kindische Liebe, - Dass man Kinder saüge und wiege; - Ich bin eine vollgewachsene Braut, - Ich will gehen nach meinem Traut. - - “Ich stürbe gerne von Minnen - Seine Augen in meine Augen, - Sein Herz in mein Herze, - Sein Seele in meine Seele - Umfangen und umschlossen. - - “Der Fisch mag in dem Wasser nicht ertrinken, - Der Vogel in den Lüften nicht versinken, - Das Gold mag in dem Feuer nicht verderben; - Wie möchte ich denn meiner Natur widerstehn?” - -In the convents of Helfta and Quedlinburg these songs spread and -furthered the great renown of Mechtild. Heinrich von Halle, the famous -Dominican, went to see her, and became her friend. But the secular -priests did not love her, this Beguine reformer, this new unsanctioned -Abbess Hildegard, who saw so clearly and bewailed so explicitly the many -corruptions which had crept upon the Church even in that age of faith, -even in the century of St. Francis and St. Dominic, of King Louis and -Elizabeth of Hungary. Some of these secular priests tried to burn her -book; thereupon Mechtild saw a vision and heard the voice of God crying -aloud: “_Lieb’ meine, betrübe dich nicht zu sehr, die Wahrheit mag -niemand verbrennen._” - -Profound and touching phrase, motto of all martyrs and of every cause: -No one can burn the Truth! Had the world but learned by heart this one -poignant sentence, uttered in the very age which began the persecution -of heretics, how many wars, deaths, angers, cruelties, centuries of -remorse and hatred had not the world been spared! All honour to this -woman, who, six centuries ago, perceived how vain it is to hunt, slay, -burn, exterminate an idea. This sentence should be immortal. - -Mechtild continued to speak what seemed to her the most necessary truth. -“Pope and priests,” she cries, “are going the road to hell. Unless they -quit their sensuality, their spiritual negligence, their temporal greed, -fearful disasters will overwhelm them.” “In this book,” she says, “I -write with my heart’s blood.” She is no unfilial antagonist threatening -the power of Rome, but a daughter striving to lead her parent back into -the holy way. She has a vision, and sees perverted Christendom lying, -“like an impure virgin,” far from the throne of God. She takes it in the -arms of her soul, and strives to lift it nearer. “Leave hold!” cries the -tremendous voice of God; “she is too great a weight for thee.” And -Mechtild looks up and smiles. “Eia, my Lord!” she cries; “I will carry -her to Thy feet with Thine own arms that Thou didst outspread upon the -cross for her!” - -Such is the aim of Mechtild: to bring the over-powerful and worldly -Roman hierarchy back to the primitive and democratic ideal of -Christianity. She has the courage of her intention, and shrinks not from -rebuking error, however high its place. She, the Beguine, the sister of -the poor, wrote to the Dean of Magdeburg censuring the notoriously idle -and voluptuous lives of his clergy. “Let him sleep upon straw, and his -canons take and eat it for their fodder!” Perhaps it is not wonderful -the clergy of Magdeburg did not love the prophetess. - -Also she wrote to the Pope, to Clement IV., whose tolerance of the -murder of Conradine had lost him many loyal German hearts, whose lax and -irreligious court was Gomorrah in the sight of Mechtild. And these -priests and prelates, this all-powerful Pope, if they do not reform and -obey, yet listen they humbly to the words of this unsanctioned nun, this -secular sister of Magdeburg. - -Never again have the Beguines attained so fine, so pure an eminence. -They are indeed still poor, still lowly, still unrecognized, still -Beguines. But these negations are become their glory and their -distinction. Which life is nearer the ideal life of Christendom, the -life of a great prelate or the life of the Beguine? The priests hear and -listen, for the moment abashed because of their splendour and their -power. The Beguines are poor, unlettered, unprotected; but they are -nearer the simplicity of God, that _reine heilige Einfalt_ which the -Beguine Mechtild well knows how to praise. - -So for thirty years Mechtild preached against error and prophesied -punishment, sang of the love of God, and saw visions of a hell where -wicked ecclesiastics burn for persecuting the innocent. For thirty years -she lived, in her beguinage, the strenuous, earnest, indignant life of -the reforming seer, the life of Dante, the life of Savonarola. And then -the vigorous frame wore out. In her fifty-third year even Mechtild saw -that an end must be put to this unrelaxed endeavour. Fain would she have -gone, like Jutta von Schönhausen, into the wild woods to preach to the -heathen Prussians. But this could not be; the body was too weak. She -retired to the Cistercian cloister of Helfta, the home of the great -Abbess Gertrude, and of her sister, the younger Mechtild. But even there -she did not rest. “What shall I do in a cloister—I?” she demanded in -agonized prayers. “Teach and enlighten,” answered a heavenly voice. And -so for twelve years longer Mechtild lives, and teaches the cloister of -the great world beyond its walls, and finishes her book on the flowing -light of Godhead, till, honoured and loved by all, she ends her eventful -life in the year 1277. - - - VII. - -_Reine, Heilige Einfalt_; such is the phrase in which Mechtild praised -her God. _Pure, holy simplicity_; it is the praise of the Beguines and -the Mystics, the beginning of pantheism. But Mechtild is no pantheist; -she strenuously believes in the personality of the soul, the reality of -Christ, the existence of the world, and in heaven and in hell. She is an -orthodox and Catholic Christian; yet she is stirred by the spirit of her -time. - -“God,” she says, “is pure simplicity; out of the eternal spring of Deity -I flowed, and all things flow, and thence shall all return.” These -earnest phrases of mystical pantheism escape her lips, though they do -not touch her heart. She does not consider all that they imply; for if -all things, having arisen in the Deity, flow back to their source when -life is over, how can Evil have a real existence, how can sinners be -punished for ever in the city of Eternal Hate? If God be the one thing -real, there is no evil and there is no hell. If all souls released from -existence return to that pure and holy simplicity, there is no personal -immortality either for bliss or for bale. Mechtild did not perceive the -bearings and the consequences of her phrase; but the Beguines pushed the -meaning to its term. The pantheism of Alexandria, the pantheism of the -suppressed Almarician heresy, stirred and quickened in the thoughts of -pious and schismatic Beguinism. And pantheism, with its two extremes of -austerity and sensualism, increased and deepened in the sect. - -Mystical pantheism, which asserts that God is all and matter nothing; -the spirit all, the body but a transitory veil; thought and mind -eternal, sense and sensuous pleasure of no account for evil or for good; -this doctrine is capable of two interpretations. It may be the religion -of Plotinus and pure souls. It may absolutely ignore the body; it may -mean the life of the mind and the soul carried always to the highest -possible pitch. Or it may be, and too often is, the excuse of the basest -sensualism. There is a page of psychology in the changed meaning of the -word Libertine. Since, neither for sin nor for sanctity, the body can -affect the soul, since sensuous pleasures are quite independent of the -spiritual existence, the lower pantheism may excuse debauch as a -permissible relaxation not affecting the spirit. And this is what it -generally does come to mean among communities of undisciplined and -ill-educated enthusiasts. - -This is gradually what it came to mean among the Beghards and the -Beguines, or at least among a large proportion of them. Some, indeed, -praying to the Pure and Holy Simplicity, endeavoured to live only in the -pureness of their souls, and thus to become one with that inspiring -spirit. Such were the Beguines of Strasburg. And a section of the -secular communities, dreading these continual inroads of heresy, -entrenched themselves in Catholic orthodoxy, and enlisted in the third -orders of Dominic and Francis. But the great remainder was absorbed by a -vague mystical pantheism, which, placing the soul too high to be -affected by the matters of the flesh, made this opinion an excuse for a -complete independence of the moral law. - -Towards the close of the life of Mechtild the prestige of Beguinism had -seriously declined. Innocent IV. and Urban IV. had taken the secular -order under their peculiar protection, but in 1274, Pope Gregory X. -renewed against it the sentence of the Lateran Council and declared the -Beguines unrecognized by Rome. Following this official condemnation, the -blame of lesser men came thick and fast; and by the end of the -thirteenth century the secular fraternities were popular only among the -poor, only among the laymen and the people. They were discredited and -heretic among the clergy. - -For thirty years before the sentence of Gregory complaints of the -Beguines and the Beghards had been sent to Rome from the prelates of -Germany and Flanders. The two demons foreseen by Mechtild, the demon of -vainglory and the demon of sensual sin, had entered in among these quiet -homes of prayer. Already in 1244 there were scandals among the younger -sisters, and the Archbishop of Mayence decreed that the beguinages of -his diocese should receive no women under forty years of age. Already in -1250 Albertus Magnus at Cologne had met with heretic Beghards, men whose -vague pantheism was to grow and spread among the order, until all -distinction should be lost between the Beghards and the heretic Brothers -of the Free Spirit. Already they had returned to their old habits, -wandering through the streets, ragged as an Eastern fakir, praying aloud -and begging of the passers-by: “Bread, for the sake of God!” Too much -ignorance with too much liberty had gone far to destroy and pervert the -real uses of the order. The great moment of Beguinism, its time of -independent poverty and secular piety, the time of Mechtild of -Magdeburg, was past and gone. The third stage of vagabondage and heresy -had begun. - -That period, we must remember, was one which, in the Church itself, was -a period of corruption and of schism. There is no charge brought against -the secular order, which might not equally be brought against the -regular monks and nuns. The long wave of pantheism which preceded the -Reformation engulfed the ignorant Beguines in a hundred perversions of -an idea ill explained, misunderstood; but that same wave overwhelmed -Master Eckhart and the Dominican Mystics. Only the Roman Church, jealous -of the unrecognized order, was swift to hear the low voice of the -Beguines murmuring, “_God is all that exists._” - -This one phrase caught, repeated, whispered, half understood, -misunderstood, often not understood at all, spread with the swiftness -and authority of gospel among the Beghards and the Beguines of Europe. -Soon in Italy, the vagrant sect of Apostolici, the followers of -Segarelli, and the Franciscan Fraticelli in France, and the Beghards and -Beguines of Northern Europe, all were murmuring together that one -phrase, that key-word of pantheism, “_Deus est formaliter omne._” - -It is not easy to prevent the growth of an idea among a community so -widely spread, so constantly changing. Segarelli was burned at Parma all -in vain. His doctrines had percolated everywhere. Inspired by the -example of the mendicant orders, many of the Beghards and Beguines had -returned to the vagabond life. Pious vagrants all in rags, staffless, -scripless, they wandered through the country from beguinage to -beguinage, begging for their food along the way. It was a change indeed -from the early habits of the order, so busy, so hard at work, so pious, -so responsible. But in the hearts of the lowest classes the secular -fraternities were never so dear, never so much revered as now. In 1295 -the Council of Mayence forbad them to wander through the streets, -exciting public pity and crying, “_Brod durch Got!_” and Guillaume de -St. Amour lamented that the people were blinded by the rags, the hunger, -the false piety of these vagrants. This, of course, is the view of -churchmen who did not entertain such strict opinions with regard to the -merit of Franciscan mendicants. Indeed, much of the ill-favour with -which the Church regarded the wandering Beghards and Beguines of these -later days may be set down to a jealousy lest the piety of these -irregular brothers should defraud the begging orders of their due. From -one cause or another the thunders of the Church began to fall heavy and -frequent upon the secular fraternities. - -In 1310 the Council of Treves disposed of the pretensions of the -Beghards in what appeared a sufficiently decisive manner. The Beghards -were called an imaginary congregation, idle fugitives from honest -labour, false interpreters of Scripture, mendicant vagabonds -unsanctioned by the Church. - -In 1311, at the Council of Vienna, Clement V. decreed the total -suppression of Beguinism. But the sentence was severe. Too many innocent -must suffer with the guilty. In the same year the Pope revoked his -sentence, and allowed the orthodox and irreproachable among the Beguines -to live “according to the inspiration of the Lord.” - -But from this time Beguinism as an institution was at an end. The -“orthodox and irreproachable” were Beghards and Beguines who had joined -the Tertiary Order of Francis or of Dominic. The secular order was no -longer secular; the aim of the Beguines was falsified and changed. - - - VIII. - -In the year 1328 nearly fifty Libertines or Brothers of the Free Spirit -were publicly burned at Cologne. - -The persecution of the wandering Beguines and Beghards had thoroughly -begun. In the history of the time, in the chronicles of any town along -the Rhine or in the Low Countries, we may meet the dolorous little -entry: On such a day so many Beghards were burned or imprisoned in -perpetual _In pace_. A special German Inquisition was instituted against -them. - -It is the old cruel war of intolerance and heresy, the vain and shameful -struggle with which six centuries are full. But there was here a more -than usual excuse for the excessive severity of Rome. Europe was fast -being ruined by these mendicant wanderers. Begging friars of St. -Francis, Carmelites, Dominicans, numerous new orders which flourished -for a while, and died, and are forgotten, all these flooded the country -with pious vagrants for whom the impoverished laymen must provide. And -in addition to all these orthodox idlers, there was now a countless -horde of wandering Beghards, no less ignorant, no less incapable of -warfare or of labour, and, in addition, pestilent heretics. Such was the -view of the Church. - -Fifty years before, Gregory X. had tried to reduce “the unbridled throng -of mendicants, who are a heavy burden alike on Church and people;” but -his efforts had been in vain. The poor of every nation and of every time -are quick to ascribe piety to those who, ragged and homeless, assert -that the life to come shall repay them for their sufferings here. Half -starved, down-trodden, little better than slaves, the peasants of -Germany would share their squalid meal thankfully with the wandering -friar. It was little less than sacrilege to refuse a portion to the holy -man. This was the natural attitude of the people. They gave, and did not -complain. - -They gave, and the friars took, and the Beghards took, and still the cry -was “Give.” The Fratricelli, Apostolici, Beghards, Beguines, Brothers of -the Free Spirit, overran the whole of Europe. These all must be fed no -less than the orthodox fraternities. And year by year the number of the -mendicants increased. The careless wandering life without responsibility -or consequence, the absence of ties or of toil, the prestige in -idleness, attracted the vagabond and lazy. And many of the pious really -believed it the noblest human life. Since the idea of Divinity was -simplicity, mere simplicity, then the more the saint was simplified and -the less heed he took for apparel or for food the nearer he was to -heaven. These men and women, strange descendants of the spinning sisters -and the Fratres Textores, were like the lilies of the field inasmuch as -they toiled not, neither did they spin. They thus fulfilled the popular -ideal of piety. Year by year labour and forethought grew more -discredited, as it was discovered that, if you did not feed yourself, a -more worldly person would always feed you; until in 1317 we read in the -sentences collected by Johann von Ochsenstein that no exterior motive, -_not even the desire of the kingdom of heaven, should tempt a good man -towards activity_. - -It was in vain for even the Pope to preach, for Guillaume de St. Amour -to attack all mendicants alike, for councils and bishops to thunder -against the indolence, the mendicancy, the lax morals and loose opinions -of these men. The mendicants grew more and more. The nations groaned -under the holy burden. Then, about 1310, unable to contain her -displeasure any longer, the Church bursts forth into interdicts and -persecution. Fifty Beghards are burned at Cologne. At Magdeburg some -Beguines are cast into prison. At Strasburg, at Constance, at Mayence, -the Beguines and Beghards are punished unless converted within three -days. It is war to the knife against the wandering heretics. - - - IX. - -Under the pressure of a displeasure so severe, the greater number of the -Beghards and Beguines accepted the rule of the tertiary orders. The -mother became submissive to her children. The larger party of the -fraternity, including all the Flemish beguinages, accepted the -Franciscan rule; but the Beghards and Beguines of Strasburg, the most -suspected of any, joined the Tertiary Order of Dominic. Thus the heresy -of Beguinism appeared for a while overcome. - -But at the same time a strange mystical pantheistic tendency became -noticeable in many sermons and lessons of the Church herself. All this -multitude of heretic Beguines, suddenly made orthodox within three days, -all this vast accession of vague Almarician piety was not without an -influence on the conquering faith. Among the Dominicans of Strasburg the -mystical bent grew more decided year by year. These much-admired doctors -and magisters were lights of the Church, men of influence and learning; -but the mysticism which was orthodox in them was really identical with -the neoplatonist theories of the Beghards. And, indeed, these -men,—Eckhart, Tauler, Rulmann Merswin—went further in the way of -pantheism than the heretic brotherhood had gone before. - -It is impossible to exterminate an idea. It must live its course, grow, -flourish, and die. Be it wise or foolish, orthodox or heterodox, let it -but have some new aspect of truth in it; let it but be fresh, profound, -and striking; let it be truly and verily an idea: it will live its life -before it dies its natural death. - -Thus the idea of the Beguines, arbitrarily suppressed, yet flourished -only the more. Like a brier budded on a rose tree, it brought out its -wild and fragile blossoms among the ordered beauties of the -ecclesiastical garden. In the great Dominican mystics of Strasburg the -central thought of heretic Beguinism (“_Deus est omnia_”) flourished -more completely than before. - -God is all: the world is nothing. This is what the mystics of Strasburg -and the mystics of the Netherlands now began to preach to the world. - - - X. - -From the year 1312 until 1320 Master Eckhart, the great Dominican -preacher, was living in Strasburg. His deep and original mind, which so -vastly was to influence the speculation of his time, was now itself -brought under the influence of Beguinism. From 1312 to 1317 he preached -and visited in the Dominican beguinages of Strasburg. Always a mystic -and a neoplatonist, before that date he was not suspected of heresy. The -theories of the Dominican Beguines agreed perfectly with the convictions -of this singular being, who preached in accents of strenuous sincerity -the doctrine of the unreality of matter. - -Among the Beguines of his diocese was one whom Eckhart adopted to be his -spiritual daughter. But the relation of the Beguine Sister Katrei to the -great Vicar-general of the Dominican order was scarcely that attitude of -submission which we expect from a penitent to her confessor. She leads -him on to new audacities of faith, suggests new penances, refuses all -restraint. She shows him how an earnest nature can reduce to practice -his special tenet that the world is nothing, that God alone exists. - -Katrei was the daughter of worthy Strasburg townspeople. Not necessity, -but an enthusiasm for self-humiliation drove her to the beguinage. Ever -in doubt of her own salvation, she multiplied her fasts and penances -till even her director beseeched her to take some pity on her starved -and shattered body. But Katrei would not be persuaded; not yet, she -declared, was the old Adam slain in her; not yet was she “dead all -through.” As Mechtild of Magdeburg is the great active type of the -order, so Katrei represents the passive Beguinism. She had no reforming -zeal; she belonged to the later school, to those who said: “Not even the -desire of the kingdom of heaven must tempt a good man towards activity.” - -To free herself from the world and the claims of the world, to leave -behind the flesh and all the needs and desires of the flesh, this was -the overmastering preoccupation of Swester Katrei. She left the -sheltering beguinage, the faces too familiar to be easily forgotten, the -neighbourhood of father and of mother, and set out alone upon the -wandering Beguine’s life. With her she took neither staff nor scrip. -“All that I ask of the world,” she said, “is a spring, a crust, and a -garment” (_brunnen, brod, und ein rock_). So for many months she went, -absorbed in her own soul, forgetting men and women, earthly pleasure, -earthly love, and earthly duty, and at last returned to Strasburg to be -known by no one there. - -She was not yet satisfied. Her ideal was not yet reached. “Not yet,” she -persisted, “am I dead all through.” “Nay,” answered the confessor -(behind whose cowl we see the face of Eckhart), “not so long as thou -rememberest who was thy father and who thy mother; not so long as thou -shalt care if thy priest refused to confess thee or absolve thee; not so -long as it shall disturb thee if thou mayest not taste the body of God; -not so long as thou shalt grieve when none will shelter thee, and all -despise thee; not until then, my sister, canst thou know the real death -unto self.” Then again, Katrei retired into the wilderness, and for a -long time she wandered to and fro across the face of the earth. When she -returned she was strangely changed; even her confessor did not know her. -At last, her cataleptic trances growing daily longer and more profound, -she being permanently raised into a strange hysteric insensibility to -pain or hunger, she lay the whole day long without food or drink or -movement in a corner of the great cathedral. Now she was dead to outer -things. “Now,” she said, “I am God.” Her father and her mother came and -cried to her, half abashed at her holiness, half agonized at her -condition. But Katrei did not know them now. She no longer recognized -what she looked upon; the world and all within it was a blank to her. - -At last, one day, the trance deepened; she ceased to breathe. Some -people of the church, thinking her dead, took her away to bury her. But -when they returned to the church with Katrei on the bier, her confessor, -approaching, perceived she was not really dead. “Art thou satisfied?” he -demanded; and she answered, “I am satisfied at last.” She would have let -them bury her. - -Quietism can go no further than this. When this singular woman died, -between 1312 and 1320, though the Church already began to censure the -mystical errors of Beguinism, yet her piety was deemed so great that -Meister Eckhart wrote a memoir of her life as an example and an -exhortation to the pious. She is the saint of the later Beguinism, even -as the vigorous Mechtild of Magdeburg is the patron of the older style. - - - XI. - -But sister Katrei had too many followers, and gradually the sense of the -religious world revolted from this numb and dead ideal. Already, in the -writings of Suso (1335), of Ruysbrock, and Rulmann Merswin, men whose -idealist mysticism was little different from the Beguine heresy, the -quietism of these “false freemen” is utterly condemned. Suso, in his -Book of Truth, recounts how he met on a journey one of these wandering -Beghards, who, to all his questions, responded much as Parsifal responds -to Gurnemanz. Whence he came and whither going, the wanderer does not -know. He is called the Nameless Savage. He is Nothing abysmed in the -Divine Nothingness. Without will or desire he obeys his natural -instincts, since any conflict with them would destroy the quiet of his -soul. Such is the latest type of the secular brotherhood; but this, -unlike Sister Katrei, meets no approval from the marvelling Church. - -Indeed, the Beghards and the Beguines, with their lax morals, their -mendicant insolence, had become an insupportable burden. So, in despair, -in 1328 the Church, as we have said, delivered fifty of them to the -secular arm, and these were burned, as an example, in Cologne. The -persecution was now steadfast and continuous; but still in secret -places, and by strange underground channels, the pantheist idea spread -on unseen—pantheism which now was no longer vague and veiled. “_We do -not believe in God, and we do not love Him, and we do not adore Him, and -we do not hope in Him, for this would be to avow that He is other than -ourselves._” Thus speak these heretics of the fourteenth century. So far -have they pushed the phrase, God is all that exists. - -From this time the cohesive force of Beguinism rapidly diminishes. In -1365 Pope Urban V. still speaks of the “children of Belial, Beghards and -Beguines,” but their name slips gradually out of the chronicles of -edicts and of councils. Or it is applied to any new sect of heretics. In -1373 we hear of “the Beghards or Turlupins,” and in the next century -Beghard is frequently synonymous with Lollard. The great heresy of the -Free Spirit was divided into a hundred unimportant divisions. By the -middle of the fifteenth century, the Beghards and Beguines were either -orthodox communities of some tertiary order, or scattered hermits, -living in woods and forests, and stealthily keeping red the few embers -left of pantheistic heresy. It seemed as if the movement were really -stamped out. But the phrase of Mechtild was not so easily confuted. No -man can burn an idea. - -We hear no more, it is true, of the Beguines or of the Weaving Brothers; -but in the sixteenth century, when at Wittenberg and at Strasburg, at -Basle and at Meaux, the great idea of the Reformation simultaneously -awoke, in that period of spiritual ferment, the pantheism of the secular -fraternities flamed out again, and more fiercely than before. The -libertines, the anabaptists, and familists of the sixteenth century -preserved in a coarser form the persecuted tradition of the Beghards and -the Beguines. - - - - - THE CONVENT OF HELFTA. - - -The great ideals of the world save themselves by strange disguises. -Though the advance of progress threaten their existence, none the less -they perpetuate themselves in unsuspected shelter. If to-day we see -religion mask itself as devotion to humanity, it is but the reversal of -the great masquerade of the Middle Ages, when whatever impulse of -good-will to man was destined to survive assumed for safety’s sake the -garb of the Church. Benevolence, science, logic, philosophy, and all the -arts put on the hood and cowl. And the time came when love also entered -religion. Indeed, the convent was the one safe place of refuge in a -struggling, dark, chaotic world—a world for which centuries of careful -nurture had ill-fitted the sentiment of love. The Middle Ages had -existed, one might say, for its development. During the century -succeeding the invention of the Immaculate Conception (1134), the cultus -of the Virgin became dominant in the Church, and, _pari passu_, the -position of women grew nobler in the world—was, indeed, elevated and -spiritualized to a dangerous artificial beauty. Then a thousand devices -were discovered to hide from the yet imperfect man and woman the -brutality of the one and the meanness of the other. The Courts of Love, -where no husband might be the lover of his wife, the gross and strained -devotion of the minnesingers, the worship of Mary and the saints, were -expedients unreal or ugly in themselves, but they imposed on mere -brutish passion a beautiful sentiment of reverence and service. For they -showed the woman beloved as a creature aloof and apart, separated from -the disenchantment of possession by the distance of heaven or the -barriers of earth. - -Thus through the Middle Ages love grew and flourished; a plant delicate -yet and scarcely acclimatised, but watered and tendered and sheltered. -Without this care it could not grow, being still young and not -well-rooted. Then in the thirteenth century a terrible convulsion -disturbed the world, and the fate of all tender, exquisite things hung -for a while in awful balance. For in that eventful century, which rounds -the old world and begins the new, the long-gathering jealousy of pope -and emperor burst into a fearful storm. The tempest of over twenty years -which destroyed the empire of the house of Hohenstaufen left Rome, -though victorious, none the less a prey to her own champion, Charles of -Anjou. For three years he would not suffer the election of a pope, -holding the keys of Peter in his unrelaxing clutches; and even when the -papal see was nominally filled, the Angevine adventurer guided its -counsels and prompted its decrees. One shipwreck engulfed both papacy -and empire, nor could any foresee that from those wrecks far nobler -vessels should be built. The hierarchic and feudal order of things had -fallen, and the spirit of law and federation was yet unknown. All over -Europe spread darkness and confusion: Rome was paralysed, France crazed -with superstition and communistic panic, Italy a mere disorganised prey -for the next comer; and Germany, most piteous of all, with the convert’s -earnestness and the loyalty of a serf, not yet fit for the sudden -withdrawal of the hierarchy and the feudalism to which she clung for -support, Germany reeled heavily. It seemed that the end of the world was -at hand; and truly, in this terrible interregnum, the whole fabric of -the Middle Ages began to crack and gape in ominous ruin. - -Now that the Courts of Love were wasted, his tournaments battle-fields, -his minstrels shouting battle-cries, what had become of Love? Where -should his ladies, sung so long and honoured, look for their knights? -They are gone to fight for God and the king; they are gone far away, but -no longer to the Holy Sepulchre; they are gone to ravage and ruin -distant cities, or to lay low the power of Rome. Many never return; some -after years—ten, fifteen, twenty years—come home again, tanned and -grey—swearing troopers, whose talk is all of battle, whose camp jests -and lewd stories fall like filth into the pure fountain of a woman’s -soul. What knight is this for a delicate lady to love! She must change -the very nature of her love if this shall satisfy her heart. The frail -ideal, nourished so long with care and patience, must die, so it seems. -But, as in ancient legends, where the lustful lover pursues a pure -nymph, gaining hold upon her, stretching out his hands for the prize, to -find them empty, to find her out of reach, safe in the inviolable -greenness of the laurel, even so the tender spirit of love, with one -violent effort, set itself beyond the lusts of the imbruted world, -sheltered, transformed into the mystical love of God. - -A natural impulse was given to religion by the divisions and disasters -of society. We have shown by what channels the mystical spirit of -Alexandria permeated the religion of the West. The knight from his -captors or his captives, the scholar from his studies, the monk from his -perusal of the most popular of saintly authors, might all become imbued -with a like spirit. Throughout the West there spread, partially, indeed, -and not to all alike, a scorn of science and understanding, and a sense -of mystery, an aspiration to ecstasy, a desire to merge all personality -in the infinite. Such influences did not create, they did but direct the -movement. They were—as M. Vacherot has shown us—a source of inspiration, -a reserve of tradition for a natural instinct which, even without them, -must have satisfied itself. Owing partly to these semi-religious -influences, partly to the external condition of affairs, the -movement—which might have established another School of Alexandria, -might have believed in astrology or the philosopher’s stone, might have -merely ended in jugglery and witchcraft—instead of this became a school -for visionaries and ecstatics. How strong the movement was may be -inferred by the length of its duration, and by our finding in its ranks -not merely hysteric virgin saints, not merely the two priors of St. -Victor, not merely the poetic Suso, the fervid Ruysbrock, the -contemplative Tauler, but the wide intellect of Albertus Magnus, the -strength of Eckhart, the practical wisdom of Gerson. - -The doctrines of Neoplatonism, received through the medium of a saint, -were translated into another sense by men of less intellect and stronger -affections than the Alexandrines. Science is little to these later -mystics, the inward spring of peace is much; they question with -Bonaventura not doctrine but desire, not the human mind but heavenly -grace. Not light they ask, but fire. By ecstasy they seek to unite -themselves not only with the abstract wisdom, but with a supreme love. -For ecstasy is to them the _ars amandi_, and to them the one thing -needful not intelligence, but feeling. “Amor oculus est,” says Richard -of Saint Victor, “et amare videre est.” To behold with this eye the -things that are hidden from earthly vision; to die to the world, in -order to live to Christ; to lose one’s soul; to drown self, conscience, -reason, virtue, feeling, in a flood of ecstasy, this had become the -ambition of the nobler spirits of the world. - -In this apotheosis of ecstasy, this contagion of love, the feminine -element naturally predominated. The movement, which the gracious and -pathetic figure of Elizabeth of Hungary announced, was to be, above all, -a movement of women. Far beyond the glory of Eckhart and Gerson, above -the eminence of thinker and teacher, shone, in this strange hierarchy of -dreamers, the beatitude of the visionary and prophetess. Prophets of God -some, others prophets of evil; so the Church decided. But it is hard to -divide the spiritual abnegation of Bridget, of Catherine, of the two -German Elizabeths, of Mechtild of Magdeburg, Gertrude and Mechtild von -Hackeborn, from the heresy which declared that to the soul lost in God -the sins of the body are as naught. That heresy is but the others’ -holiness, pushed to its logical consequence. - -The saints were chiefly women—women of vague, imperious, unsatisfied -emotion, sick of a world given over to rapine, interdict, and slaughter, -where no choice was left between disloyalty and damnation; women young -and active, living for the most part the passive, temperate eventless -life of the convent; women who imposed on themselves long fasts and -vigils, whose tender flesh was bruised with the stone flags of the cell -where they would lie of winter nights for penance, and torn with the -lashings of the self-inflicted scourge. In this life no hope for them; -in this world no love, no happiness, no possessions. As starving people -dream of delicious feasts and banquets, they found in a vision the -things withheld from them awake. - -_Amor rapit, unit, satisfacit_: the practical Gerson lets fall the fiery -phrase. Each of these virgin visionaries had said as much. Open the -books of their exercises, their revelations; the dusty pages exhale a -violence and tenderness of passion that the minnesingers never caught, -the troubadors never felt, in their earthly singing. For these saintly -visions are all of love—love which ravishes; nay, love which drowns, -annihilates, swallows up. Love in a dream, and yet the one real thing in -a cramped and narrow life; love which fills every interstice and cranny -of a void and aching heart; love unseen, untouched, unheard, for which -the visionary waits hour by hour, in an anguish of tense devotion, waits -till the muttered monotony of her prayers, the fixed, unvaried straining -of her eyes, shall have lulled the body to a death-like trance, shall -set free the soul to show her the mirage of her own unsatisfied desire. - - - I. - -Throughout the thirteenth century Thuringia continued the centre and -stronghold of German sanctity. The life of St. Elizabeth at the Wartburg -had gone up from its midst like a purifying altar-flame to heaven. When -she died in 1231, hundreds of men and women came in tears to honour the -wasted body wrapped in its worn Franciscan cloak, lying dead in the poor -little house at Marburg. From the memory of her life, from the -pilgrimages to her tomb, a tradition and ideal of saintliness spread -among the people. Fifteen years later, it was in Thuringia that the Pope -found his champion. Even his oppression, and the defeat and death of -that ill-starred defender of the faith did little to abate the popular -ardour. - -The convent of Rodardesdorf, near Eisleben, and the great princely -convent of Quedlinburg, gave an especial religious distinction to -Thuringia; but not until about the year 1234, when the rich and noble -Freiherr von Hackeborn of Helfta placed at Rodardesdorf his little -five-year-old daughter Gertrude, was the specially illustrious future of -that house decided. Rodardesdorf was a convent of Cistercians, a -thoughtful and peaceful place. The little Gertrude was happy there. She -was a serious and earnest child, “not content,” says the chronicle, -“with childish innocence, but, even when a babe, gifted with a constant -gravity and prudence of demeanour.” Indeed, that childish head was -troubled with many things, for the little girl was passionately eager to -learn all that came in her way: science, liberal arts, grammar, -theology. So that she became no less honoured for her acquirements than -beloved for her docility and modesty of bearing. - -But the convent was to acquire another infant saint. The mother of -Gertrude again visited the convent, and on one occasion brought with her -her younger daughter, Mechtild, then seven years of age, and as many -years younger than her sister. “They came for honest diversion,” says -the chronicle, probably to see little Gertrude, and certainly with no -thought of leaving Mechtild behind. But the child was so delighted with -the strange place, the large rooms, the little cells, the chapel with -its altar lights, the children in the garden, the nuns who made much of -her, that she declared she would willingly remain there for ever. Nor -would she leave, though her mother bade her come. Then the sisters, -delighted with so much holiness so young, instantly beseeched the mother -to leave her little girl in their company for awhile, and to this she -consented. Poor mother, did no pang go through her heart when the -convent doors shut on both her children? It was for ever; no prayers, no -commands could bring her back her wilful, loving, eager little Mechtild -any more, for the _Vita_ relates, “after this holy and blessed embrace -her parents could never withdraw her from that place for all the -caresses and endearments that they knew how to make.” With bruised ties -and bleeding hearts the career of saintliness begins. “Only he,” runs -the Scripture that child would often hear, “that hateth father and -mother can become my disciple.” - -Of the daily routine of life in the convent we may gain an idea from -Abelard’s directions to the nuns of the Paraclete, and, setting against -the difference of date the difference of culture in the two countries, -we may not unfairly suppose the Thuringian Cistercians of 1250 to have -followed much the same rule of life as the Benedictines of Heloise -adopted a century earlier. - -According to the code of Abelard the convent was divided into six -functions, all alike subject to the direction of the abbess. The -sacristan was responsible for the convent treasury; she kept the keys, -and had the care of the church plate and sacred vessels; and it was her -duty to set the virgin sisters to prepare the wafers for the Host, which -must not be made by widows. The chantress taught singing and reading, -had care of the choir and of the library, to which she was expected to -add by copying and illuminating manuscripts. The head of the infirmary -had charge of the sick. Another sister was mistress of the wardrobe, and -responsible not only for all the spinning, weaving, and sewing necessary -for the convent, but also for the tanning and cobbling. The cellarer had -in her charge the wines for the altar and the sick, the provisioning of -the table, and the management of whatever the convent possessed in -orchards and garden-land, flocks and herds and hives, trout streams and -mills. Lastly, the doorkeeper, who was especially chosen for courteous -manners, judgment, and trustworthiness, was responsible for the keeping -of the gate, the entertainment of guests, and the distribution of -hospitality. - -Life in the convent was not hard, but monotonous, eventless beyond -description—a perpetual alternation of broken sleep, repeated tasks, and -prayer. In the middle of the night the sisters rose for Matins, and the -office over, trooped back through the darkness to the dormitory. There -they slept till Lauds, which are sung at the break of day; in summer, -when Lauds are early, the sisters slept again till Prime. At Prime they -left the dormitory, having first washed their hands, and taking their -books repaired to the cloister to read and sing until the office should -begin. Service over, they all assembled in the chapter-house, where a -lesson out of the Martyrology was read to them and expounded. On leaving -the chapter each nun was sent to fulfil her allotted task—singing or -sewing, nursing or baking—until the hour of Tierce, when mass was said. -They then resumed their work till noon, the sixth hour, which was the -convent dinner-time, except on fast-days, when it was postponed till -Nones, or in Lent, when nothing was eaten till after Vespers at four. -The convent fare was simple and spare. Save for the sick, no wine; stale -bread of coarse flour; roots and greens, and at discretion of the abbess -a portion of unflavoured meat on Tuesdays, Thursdays, and Sundays. From -the autumn equinox till Easter, on account of the shortness of the days, -this one meal was considered sufficient for all save the infirm. - -After dinner, in summer-time, the sisters slept till Nones; in the two -hours between that office and Vespers they were set to finish their -task, but at four the day’s work was done. Between the spring and autumn -equinoxes the sisters were permitted a light refreshment after Vespers. -It was the only time when fruit might be eaten. This light supper over, -Compline began. Then they all sought the dormitory again. On Saturday -evenings they were a little later, as then the sisters were enjoined to -purify themselves—that is to say, to wash their hands and feet, a -function which the abbess or lay-sisters were specially directed to -supervise. This done, they slept till the midnight matin-bell should -clang them from their beds. - -Out of such a life of dreary monotony, the same task day by day, or -another exactly like it, the same prayer, the same lesson, always of -saints and martyrs; out of this life of forced privation, this -half-starved life of chants and broken dreams, who can wonder that -(Μορφή μία) visions, mysteries, scandals, witchcraft continually arose. -The two little children prospered in the convent which was at first -merely a school for them, and an excellent school. Gertrude, the silent, -studious, ambitious scholar, found there more books and better teachers -than she could have had at home; and, so long as her soul was set on -learning and studying, the homage paid her as a child set apart for God -only served as a spur to her ambition. “She ever would increase her -natural beauty of soul by saintly customs, adding to it the splendour -and the sweetness of all manner of flowered virtues, so that she should -be more pleasing in the eyes of every one,” says the chronicle in which -after her death the nuns of Helfta embalmed her virtues. But while -little Gertrude laboured so hard to make herself desirable, Mechtild, -quite simply and without effort, won all hearts to herself. Although she -was not so learned nor so grave as her sister, though once she had told -a lie (the one lie of her life), boasting to her companions that she had -seen a thief in the court, where thief was none; though, judging from a -later vision, she had sometimes looked back from the plough and longed -for her mother’s love: ay, though no early holiness had, as with -Gertrude, foretold the saint, and only after her entrance to the convent -had manifested itself in her; despite all this, Mechtild was the loved -one. While Gertrude in the library was toiling hard at grammar that her -mind might be worthy of God and the love of her companions, Mechtild -standing in the garden was surrounded with listeners, hanging on the -words of her fanciful allegories as she expounded the message of God. -While Gertrude was making extracts from the Fathers and compiling -treasuries of Scripture to help the souls of the sisterhood, Mechtild, -like a little mother, was going among the sick, speaking, ministering to -each, giving help and comfort to all in affliction. As they grew older -it was still the same—Gertrude putting her soul into her studies, -Mechtild into her life; Gertrude absorbed and wise, with no one friend -preferred to any other; Mechtild every one’s darling, beset with every -one’s confidences “to the impediment of the sweet quiet of her soul.” -Gertrude the humanist, Mechtild the human. - - - II. - -So far all was right and fair. Each child naturally selected the -education fitted to its wants, and became wise or loving as the need -was. But when they came to full girlhood they did not quit this school -whose teaching they had outgrown. These girls were, since their -childhood, cloistered nuns dedicated to God. But only when their -childhood was over could they appreciate the meaning of their vow. To -Mechtild it did not greatly matter; her life in the world might have -been fuller and richer, in the convent it was not wasted. She was so -easily interested in others, so gifted to soothe the sick and suffering, -so naturally humble and unselfish, that even the consciousness of -sanctity could not injure her nature; in her visions, even, she rarely -announces her own glory. It is Gertrude that she sees in the bosom of -the Father, and she hears the Divine Voice proclaim, “Gertrude is far -greater than this Mechtild.” More often her visions are messages of -consolation to those she has pitied and laboured for awake. She sees the -dead baby of a certain sorrowing mother clad in scarlet and gold, and -greatly glorified in heaven. She beholds God and the Virgin standing by -the bed of one of the sisters who is sick unto death; or else her -visions are tender and poetic fancies. She sees the Father giving all -the saints to drink of the Fountain of Mercy. She sees the Heart of God -burning like a lamp; or, again, she beholds the sacred rose that blooms -in the Heart of God; or, lastly, her visions supply the needs of her -maimed and stinted life. Kneeling on the floor of her cell, this loving -woman, with no natural ties, often sees God come to her as a little -child of five years old, and, in a dream, God gives her His love, at -last, to be her mother, “to care for her and lead her as a mother her -child.” Or she dreams, this woman with her love of colour and beauty, of -beautiful women in splendid raiment. Mary comes to her in a gown the -colour of air, sewn all over with tiny flowers of gold, and embroidered -round the neck and sleeves with the holy monogram of Jesus. Or she comes -in a pale green cloak, latticed over with gold, with the head of Christ -in every lattice. St. Catherine of Alexandria appears in dull crimson, -covered over with gold embroidery of little wheels, fastened at the -breast with a clasp of two meeting hands of gold. Christ appears young -and beautiful, in rose-coloured silk, stiff with gold and jewels, “yet -not to be thrown away because so heavy, but rather ennobled,” as the -soul with the heavy gems of grief. Or she sees the least saint in -Paradise, a youth of middle height, wonderfully lovely, most fair of -face, his hair crisply curling, of a colour between green and white, -clad all in green. Never, out of Meister Stefan’s pictures, were there -such deep colours, such quaintly-patterned gowns and mantles, such -jewels and embroideries as figure in the visions of this poor little -sallow saint, asleep herself in her darned serge and yellowed linen, and -always clad, by her own choice, in the worst clothes of the convent, -torn and patched in all corners. - -The real dangers of mysticism have little power over a soul so sweet and -naïve as this. But it was otherwise with Gertrude. She was a woman of -passionate intensity of imagination, of an ever-active and ambitious -mind. During her childhood this had been wisely exercised in study. Had -she gone then into the world life and learning would have employed it -for her. Had she been a secular sister like Catherine of Siena, a -wandering preacher and prophetess, like Mechtild of Magdeburg, or an -avowedly learned and reforming abbess, like Heloise or Teresa, she -would, perhaps, have been most useful and happiest of all. But, when she -grew up, when she perceived the real aim of her cloistered life, her -learning became odious to her. What had the vain lore of this world to -do with the appointed spouse of Christ? “While this virgin was -continuing the study of the humanities,” relates the _Vita_, “she became -aware that this study was a region too remote from the similitude of -Christ, perceiving that too hungrily she had longed after human -learning, for which reason she had not until that moment disposed her -heart to receive Divine illumination. She knew then (and not without -passionate sighs coming from the heart) that until this time she had -been deprived both of the consolations and of the illuminations of -Divine wisdom, since she had remained intent on human things.” - -A terrible conflict, a terrible temptation. With Gertrude’s earnest -nature there could be but one end. She cut off from her the hungry and -passionate love of human learning as she would have cut off a limb or -plucked out an eye to enter, maimed but holy, into Paradise. With tears, -and anguish, and bitter agony of prayer, she maimed her soul. But not -always does the mutilated member heal. Woe to those whom nature punishes -for their temerity with mortification, with numb and creeping death. - -Now that Gertrude had, of her own will, shut off from herself all her -former means of progress and employment, how should she spend her time? -She was not, like Mechtild, by nature a sick-nurse and a confidant; she -had not, like Mechtild, a beautiful voice which she could cultivate for -the service of God; and to her dominant eager nature it was necessary to -do something and to do it better than any one else. The one remnant of -all her studies which she permitted herself was the translation of Latin -prayers into German for the benefit of more ignorant sisters, and at -this she would persevere the whole day long. But this oft-repeated, -almost mechanical employment could not fill her mind, could open no -vista to her ambition. There was, indeed, only one road that she could -follow; all the circumstances of her life converged to the same -vanishing point. - -When she remembered, in the long vacant hours of sleeping or copying, -the books she used to read, what thoughts would they naturally suggest -to her? She had, we may be sure, read no books that would give her -visions of the world outside—poems of Virgil the magician, or the -minnesingers. To her the humanities were themselves books of theology; -the writings of the fathers of the Church, a tract of St. Bonaventura’s -it may be, or one of the sermons of Eckhart or of Albertus Magnus (then -at the prime of their renown), certainly the works of Dionysius -Areopagita. What would they have taught her, these books which she had -given up to imitate the lowliness of Christ? They told her, one and all, -how much more desirable was feeling than reason, ecstasy than care for -others, faith than works; how far above all natural tenderness of human -charity was the _virtus infusa_, the theological virtue, the love of -God. Every hour of her life must have repeated the lesson. The eight -offices of the day, the lesson from the _Martyrology_, which was all the -food this hungry and active mind was given to fast upon; the daily task -of copying prayers; the long, weary misery of being no one, in no true -position. All these things must have spoken to this earnest, -self-preoccupied Gertrude, who had toiled so long to make herself -pleasing in the eyes of every one; and, now, knowing so well what was -necessary, would she not strive in prayer for this last, dearest gift? -Would she not set herself to learn this one thing needful? Most likely -she had not long to pray, nor ever consciously began to learn, before -the gift was granted, the science acquired, the strong mind weakened and -perverted, the student an ecstatic. - - - III. - -From that first moment of vision the fame of Gertrude grew so high and -so rapidly, that when in 1251 the abbess of Rodardesdorf expired, this -girl-ecstatic of nineteen was elected her successor. It is strange that -the duties of her new position, the great responsibilities of so famous -a convent, did not draw her from her visions; but the influence of the -time was strong, and the abbess of Rodardesdorf was beset by no -imperious need for reform. There was no cleansing work of righteousness -to be performed in that well-ordered house of high-born mystical ladies. -All that Gertrude could do was, seven years after her nomination, when -the springs of Rodardesdorf dried up, to remove the convent to her own -castle of Helfta, an act which naturally increased her own position in -the convent, and tripled her glory of abbess, benefactress, and -ecstatic. Gertrude, however, was not the only saint in Helfta. Besides -her sister, the sweet, fanciful Saint Mechtild, there was Gertrude the -Nun,[3] sometimes confounded with the abbess, who in all probability -wrote the concluding book of the _Vita_, certainly finished after St. -Gertrude’s death. The two daughters of the Count of Mansfeld were also -professed in the convent, and were gifted disciples of its mystical -doctrines. Sophia spent her life in enriching the already valuable -library of Helfta, and Elizabeth painted, probably in the chapel. - -Footnote 3: - - Herr Preger, notwithstanding the authority of other scholars, and the - entire tradition of the Church, maintains the _Gertruden-buch_ to be - the work not of Gertrude von Hackeborn, but of a certain Gertrude the - Nun, living at the same time in the same convent. He also, in an - argument of great ingenuity, separates Mechtild the chantress from our - Mechtild von Hackeborn, to whom, however he leaves the authorship of - her works; but as in the Venetian edition of the _Vita_ (1583 and - 1605), I find the words, “Now Gertrude, with her sister Mechtild the - chantress, managed all the affairs of the convent,” with constant - indications of the identity of Gertrude the abbess and Gertrude the - saint; and as Lansperg, the earliest chronicler, expressly states them - both to be the daughters of the Graf von Hackeborne, I have decided in - this one matter not to accept the dictate of a scholar, to whom all - students of the subject must remain indebted. - -In 1265 the convent, already the high school of ecstasy in the north of -Germany, received a more famous woman than any of these. This was our -Mechtild of Magdeburg, whose earnest faith and flashing, passionate -eloquence, whose songs inspired with a wild, strange tenderness, whose -life of hardship and adventure for the love of Christ, had rendered her -one of the noblest and most endearing figures of her age. She chose -Helfta to be the home of her declining years, and added another glory to -the convent of St. Gertrude and St. Mechtild. - -Such a house, it may be supposed, did not exhaust the spiritual energies -of a nature so full of force and so ambitious as that of its young -abbess. Her surroundings were but an added incentive to her aspiring -soul. She worked hard, it is true, aided by her sister Mechtild. Every -day she visited the infirmary and saw that the sick were well and -cleanly treated. She ruled her nuns with thought and care; but when the -hours of leisure came, the many daily periods set apart for prayer and -meditation, then her old ecstasy overpowered her with a strength and -vividness the more forcible for the obstacles it had to overcome. More -passionate, more personal become her revelations as she lies abandoned -to trance and vision in the arms of the spiritual Lover. So strong, so -hot, so fierce, so tender are the words that fall from her lips, that we -cannot bear them now unmoved. Ah me! what vain and fruitless passion -this dreaming love of the saint for a dream! - -It was not until nine years after the bestowal of the “singular grace of -divine familiarity,” says the _Vita_ that Gertrude wrote down the -description of her visions. But the visions, themselves recorded in the -five books of her revelations, seem to have begun almost immediately -after her renunciation of human learning. “From that time she began to -hold as vile all visible and external things, and verily not without a -cause, for from that time the Lord opened to her the ways of Mount Zion, -a place of joy and consolation. Leaving the study of grammar, in which -she was greatly instructed, she turned to theology, that is to say, Holy -Scripture and the lives of the saints, using them with infinite -diligence.” - -And soon the saint herself began to speak from the mount, in her own -language. None of the tender consolations and quaintly pictured fancies -of Mechtild are here. The revelations of Gertrude manifest the ambition, -the activity, the emotion of a crushed and passionate nature forced into -an unnatural channel. Tragic and miserable spectacle: the strong -passion, the earnest will so sorely wanted in the world outside, are -spent vainly, vilely, in inducing terrible disease. The saint grows -weaker as her visions increase in force; her mind, warped and broken, -can bend but one way. And that way is towards inertia, madness, and -annihilation. An old tale, oft-repeated, yet needed, perhaps, in these -days of mesmerism and spiritual _séances_. An old tale, well-known to -the Yogis of India, to the monks and nuns of mediæval Europe, to all who -have deliberately made themselves the victims of catalepsy and hysteria. -For deliberately they did it. Many of the receipts have come down to us: -the absolute cessation from practical affairs, the emptiness of mind and -heart; the regulated diet, neither too little nor too much; the lack of -sleep; the quiet, which no joy or woe of others may disturb, when, -seated or kneeling in his cell, at an hour when digestion is well over, -sighing lugubriously in deep, regular sighs, the eyes are fixed on one -point too high or too low for perfect comfort, the arms are to beat the -breast in monotonous routine, as Gerson and other mystical doctors -prescribe, until a heavy trance involves the body, until the brain -becomes deranged by this appalling and stultifying monotony, and -creeping death or madness end the vision. - -“It happened once,” says the _Vita_, “that by reason of sickness, -Gertrude was prevented from attending vespers; and, longing for these, -and feeling sick at heart, she turned to the Lord, and said: ‘O my -Master, were it not more praiseworthy that I should now be singing in -the choir with my other companions and hearing the prayers and the other -regular exercises than to be lying in this weakness, in which I consume -in negligence so many hours?’ To which He answered: ‘Oh, dost thou -believe the bridegroom holds his bride less dear, when he stayeth at -home to taste the familiarity of his domestic pleasure, than when he -glories to lead her forth, well adorned, before the gaze of the crowd?’ -from which speech she understood that, in the divine service, the soul -appears as a bride going forth; but, when heavily laden with bodily -infirmities, then as a bride sleeping in the secret chamber; for the -more that man is weak, shorn of all pleasures of the sense, destitute -and impotent, the more is he made to delight the Lord.” - -Such a theory was naturally productive of fasts and vigils, nor, if the -favour of her Lord depended on the sickness of her body, could it ever -have been far from this poor ailing and anæmic girl. A revolting amount -of suffering is naïvely and incidentally revealed in her works of -spiritual grace. Scarce a chapter but opens, “Being again sorely weak -from want of sustenance,” “Lying again in bed helpless with sickness,” -“Being sorely oppressed with a burning of the liver,” or with some -similar avowal of the connection between her revelations and the -weakness of her health. Often she piteously implores the Lord to restore -her to her former soundness and well-being, but the answer is always the -same. “Thy sickness is a dance and a festival for me,” responds the -Celestial Spouse; nor ever is there any hope given her of a cessation to -her pain. In her wandering senses the poor tormented saint dimly guessed -that her spiritual gifts were dependent on the utter prostration of her -body and her mind. - -The spectacle of her suffering convinced the whole convent of Gertrude’s -sanctity. They believed her in daily communication with their unseen -Head. It was natural, therefore, that they should bring their sorrows to -her and entreat her intercession, as men ask a minister to counsel the -king, or a steward to remedy the carelessness of the absent master, or a -favoured mistress to beg that, for her love’s sake, a piece of justice -may be granted that otherwise were withheld. It was natural, also, that -Gertrude should believe herself capable of guiding the will of God; -natural that the strange vanity of the visionary and the hysteric should -obscure the eyes of her mind, and lead her further on the road she had -chosen. After visions, miracles. - - - IV. - -Miracles exist in the mind of the witnesses. “Le miracle,” said -Lamennais, “existe quand on y croit.” To the latter-day sceptic, the -marvels which procured the canonization of Gertrude are such natural -trifles that it is difficult to imagine they could ever have filled a -whole countryside with rapture and thanksgiving. A sudden downfall of -rain, the ceasing of a shower, the finding of a needle—such are her -miracles. But hear with what pomp and circumstance the chronicler -narrates them. - -“One evening when the nuns had finished supper, they went into the court -to finish a certain piece of work that they were set to do, and it -happened that at this time the sun still shone, notwithstanding that in -the sky there were several clouds which threatened rain; wherefore she, -sighing, began heartily to converse with the Lord, I hearing all she -said, as follows: ‘O Lord God, Creator of everything, I do not wish that -thou, as if compelled, should obey the will of me unworthy; none the -less would it be very dear to me, if pleasing to Thee, if Thy most -liberal goodness shouldst prevail against Thine honest justice to retard -a little, for my sake, this rain. None the less, Thy will be done.’ She -said these latter words resigning herself into the hands of God, not -thinking of aught but the fulfilment of His good pleasure; a marvellous -thing it must certainly be accounted, that scarcely had she finished -speaking when lightning, thunder, and great drops of rain burst forth -with great fury; for which cause, moved with pity for the other sisters, -she remained altogether filled with fear, and again she said to the -Lord, ‘Let Thy goodness, O most clement God, last at least so long as -while we finish our appointed task.’ At these words the most clement -God, to show how in everything He was pleased to grant her prayer, held -up the rain until the nuns had finished the task they were at work upon; -which done, they returned to the convent, and scarcely had they reached -the gate when there began a tempest of rain and thunder and lightning, -so that some of the sisters who had lingered behind could not enter the -door before they were soaked to the skin.” - - - V. - -Gertrude was the saint of the convent, and yet her ambition cannot have -been wholly realized. She, who ever since her childhood had laboured -hard to acquire “all manner of flowered virtues in order to please the -eyes of every one,” she, the favoured of God, was nevertheless in the -convent less beloved than simple Mechtild. The fact is revealed -unconsciously in every page of her life, in all the numerous revelations -when God declares that notwithstanding the convent’s suffrage, Gertrude -is greater than Mechtild. And greater she was—more passionate, strong, -and earnest, suffering anguish and burning with great desires that her -sweet and happy sister could not conceive. Love was necessary to her, -love and approbation. They were the very food of her soul. Reading side -by side her revelations and her life, one easily comprehends how in -proportion as she failed to gain the love and tenderness of her -companions, her visions become erotic and passionate. To give such a -nature respect, esteem, awe, as a reward for its sacrifice, is in -bitterest truth to give a stone to the child crying for bread. Gertrude -being hungry dreamed of a feast; phantasmal banquets which nourish not, -but madden. - -As time went on, Gertrude transferred all her earnestness, all her -powers of feeling, from the outer world to this dream-born inner life. -Censorious, abstracted, caring little for physical suffering, she was -tender and anxious to the last degree in all matters that concerned the -soul. And this without any interest in the personality of the creature -she longed to save. She had, says her biographer, not one friend so dear -that to save her she would by so much as one word commit an offence -against perfect justice, and would declare that rather would she consent -to the injury of her own mother than harbour an evil thought against an -enemy. Her conversation was in heaven, and the things of the world were -as dust to her. Nay, as poison. She was as careful as Pascal[4] by no -word of hers ever to draw to herself the heart of any person; it was not -for her who was beloved of God to unite herself in earthly friendship, -and as one would fly a person stricken with a pestilent disease, she -fled from any one who sought her affection. Never now could she endure -to hear a word of earthly love; rather would she remain deprived of the -services and the goodwill of all the world than ever consent that, by -reason of human favour the heart of any should be joined to hers. - -Footnote 4: - - “La vraie et unique vertue et donc de se haïr. Il est injuste qu’on - s’attache à moi, quoiqu’on le fasse avec plaisir et volontairement. Je - tromperais ceux à qui j’en ferais naître le désir; car je ne suis la - fin de personne et n’ai pas de quoi les satisfaire:” Pascal told his - married sister she ought not to caress her own children or suffer them - to caress her. - -So says the chronicle. Yet with all this bitter indifference, this love -turned sour in her heart, she kept a great tenderness for erring or -tormented souls, praying and watching for them, warning and consoling; -and though the sinner proved obdurate, not yet would she relax her care; -nay, when the sisters besought her not to afflict herself for the sins -of the ungodly, she would answer that she would rather suffer death than -console herself for the misery of those who would only understand their -own perdition when at last they should stand in face of the eternal -expiation. So great was her compassion, that did she only hear of any -one sick in spirit, be he never so far away, she could not rest without -endeavouring to console his sorrow. And as men laid low with fever exist -from day to day in the hope of recovery, watching themselves to see if -they are not a little better, so she longed and watched from hour to -hour that the Lord might console the mourner and ease him in his -affliction. - -Strange and pathetic this zeal for the indefinable and impersonal soul, -concerning itself nowise with character or feeling, with mind or -physical well-being. Strange and awful this transmuted love, this -transformed humanity and kindness, which deal with unrealities while all -around a world sickens and dies. Yet not so strange if we remember that -to exchange the reality for the shadow, the thought for the dream, and -truth for a phantasm, is the principle of mysticism. - - - VI. - -Meanwhile Mechtild, a mystic by doctrine and circumstance, but not by -temperament, concerned herself, even in the convent, chiefly with the -affairs of reality. She was, as we have seen, every one’s friend, nurse, -and confidant, and but slenderly concerned with saintly glories for -herself. She never wrought any miracles, nor did God ever tell her that -she was His most favoured among women. It was Gertrude’s glory that she -declared. The saintly acts that are recorded of her have a pathetic -human grotesqueness never to be found in Gertrude’s doings or sayings. -For instance, out of a great pity for the sins of the mummers and -dancers at carnival, she filled her bed full of potsherds and broken -glass, and rolled in them till she was a mass of cuts and sores, begging -God to accept her suffering as a set-off to the merry-making of the -world outside. This is not the true mystical temper, which ignores all -but the union of the soul with God. Mechtild sought no advancement for -her own soul, she sought to palliate the offences of the guilty and to -save them from punishment rather than bring them to repentance; moreover -she felt herself responsible for their errors. The true ecstatic, lost -in God, abjures human responsibility. Nevertheless, even in the convent, -Mechtild, with her merry patience in suffering, her care for the sick -body no less than the sick soul, her humility and lovingness, was -naturally dearer than her austere, abstracted sister-saint. And, none -the less, the sisterhood was aware that Gertrude not Mechtild was their -real title to honour. - -As the mystical life spread like a contagion through the convent, many -of the younger sisters, underfed, deprived of air and exercise, had not -strength to support the abnormal existence of the visionary. Sickness -was frequent in this convent of ecstatics, and whether at Rodardesdorf -or at Helfta its mortality was excessive. The nuns died young of -undefined diseases. We are always meeting allusions to their short, -dream-visited lives, to their early and inexplicable dying. They perish -of anæmia, before the acknowledgedly consumptive sisters; and the nuns -can find no reason for their death unless it be that God was anxious to -remove so much sweetness to flourish perpetually in His presence. The -diseases of the convent are such physical ills as are induced by mental -strain and by bodily inanition—consumption, hysteric convulsions, or -paralysis, disturbances of the liver. Such as cannot die—such as, like -Gertrude herself, have too strong a fibre to perish in girlhood—linger, -tormented by sickness, prematurely old and useless. All they have to -console them is the phrase, vouchsafed by her heavenly bridegroom to -Gertrude in vision, “Lo! ye that fain would hasten into my presence, ye -are as a spouse that bare and unadorned would venture into the nuptial -chamber; know, that after this death which ye so much desire, no further -grace can accrue to the soul, nor can it suffer any more for God’s -sake.” - -Mechtild of Magdeburg, Dante’s Matilda, was the first of the greater -saints to succumb. A long life of hardship, of energetic striving with a -guilty world, years of Beguine Prophecy, much labour of writing and -preaching, and the pain of bodily weariness, had worn her out. At the -age of sixty-seven the strongest and sweetest of all the German -women-mystics departed from a world which she had not shrunk to face, -which even from her cloister she had striven to ennoble. The strong, -reforming spirit was stilled at last. The one woman in the convent of -Helfta who knew the world as it is, its sins and aspirations, its -generosities and crimes, was dead. A window was shut in that house, a -window showing the world beyond the chapel walls, and letting in upon -the heavy smell of flickering candles and swinging censers the free -breath of the wind. Henceforth there was no reminder of the larger -world, the purer air outside: Mechtild of Magdeburg was dead. - - - VII. - -No such release was appointed for Gertrude; the easy death of the body -was not for her, though for death she prayed by day and by night, -finding that her prayers for health and strength were never granted. -Nailed to her mattress by exceeding weakness, she watched the younger -nuns die, one by one, “admitted to the celestial marriage-chambers,” -while she, faint, palsied, useless, lingered on. “O, my God,” she cries, -“could I not serve Thee better with my old strength than thus?” And ever -the soul-heard answer comes, that the more humbled the body, the poorer -the proud intellect of man, so much the dearer to God is his spiritual -essence. Thus dragged on year after year, and the great abbess filled -her five books of revelations and her eight books of spiritual -exercises. Her life was spent and she was old. The later hagiographers -relate of Saint Gertrude that she died of a languor of Divine love. -Modern science would call by another name this long palsy of the body -through the prostration of the mind. But no diagnosis, saintly or -scientific, can add to the sense of misery and waste with which we -recall that strong life so early broken, those twenty-five years of -strained nerves and aching limbs, that six-months-long daily death of -hysterical paralysis. - -“This elect of God,” relates the _Vita_, “full of the Holy Spirit and -worthy to be embraced by the arms of Divine charity, Gertrude, most -benign abbess, all-praiseworthy, having laboured for forty years and as -many days in the honour and praise of God, ruling her abbey wisely and -with much prudence, sweetly, and with much discretion, being by reason -of all these virtues flowery as a fresh rose in this world, and -marvellously gracious and worthy to be loved, not by God only, but by -mankind as well, at last, after forty years and forty days, fell into a -grievous sickness, which is known as minor palsy, a form of apoplexy.” - -The narrators of the life, who knew Gertrude and had often seen her, say -no word, it will be perceived, of the celestial love-sickness which a -more sentimental taste gave out afterwards to be the cause of her death. -And, indeed, such a superstition could not rise, even round so great a -saint, while the physical details of her last weakness remained fresh in -the minds of the nuns of Helfta. They mourned her truly, and believed -that never a holier saint had been translated to those pleasant fields -of heavenly green for which she had so often longed. But, with an -admirable _naïveté_, even while they believed that God had drawn her -miraculously from her sick bed into His arms, they knew that she had -died of palsy. To them there was nothing incongruous in the two ideas; -they had no thought of concealing—they would rather display—the -degradations and infirmities of the mere human body which had so long -enchained the heavenly soul. At first her senses remained to her, only -she could not move her limbs, could not stir the wasted hands that once -had been so swift to sew, to write, to put in order whatever was out of -place. She could lie still and dream, the poor, dying mystic. - -For she had given to her now, as a gift that should not be taken away, -that perfect quiescence and immobility of body which she had practised -so often, so patiently, by day and night, in times gone past. And soon -she was to be granted that other wing of ecstasy, complete abstraction -of the mind from all human thoughts and affairs. So heavy became the -burden of her infirmity that she could no longer order the affairs of -the household, no longer care for others. At last she could not speak, -she could not pray, she could not think. She was perfected in the -mystical way; annihilated, stultified, palsied, she had attained the -summit of her desire. Never moving, never changing, dead-alive, she lay -there month by month, a helpless burden upon the community. Worshipped -as one indeed highly favoured of the Lord by those whose feet were all -set on the same sterile and deadly road, she could give utterance to no -other words but these, “My soul!” And this phrase she repeated over and -over again, finding it marvellously ample and sufficient to express all -the movements of the spirit. O pitiless ideal, O cruel and revolting -doctrine, is it to this you would reduce the living, thinking, active -human mind? Is the end of such continued sacrifice, such years of -hourly, daily labour nothing but this—a palsied useless body, a dumb, -numb soul, with no thought and no desire beyond itself? At length the -hour of dissolution was at hand, the night in which no man shall work; -and in waiting for this the days of life had gone by fruitless and -wasted; in hoping for this the sun had risen and set in vain, the -seasons had changed unnoticed; in preparation for this soul and heart -and mind and physical powers had deliberately hamstrung their noblest -faculties; and now the long-awaited night was at hand, the night in -which all mistakes are forgotten, all cares and anguish set at rest. - -The last time that Gertrude spoke these two all-sufficing words, “My -soul!” was one evening when Compline was at an end. Then began her -passage to the other life. At this time, fables the author of the end of -the _Vita_, in quaint allegorical eulogy, not only the chamber of the -dying abbess, but the whole of the monastery, was crowded and thronged -to excess, since among the praying and weeping sisterhood knelt all the -virgin company of heaven. - -“At length the happy hour was come when the Celestial and Imperial -Spouse should receive His beloved in His house of love, finally, after -so much longing, set free of the prison of the world.” The nuns knelt -round praying and weeping; the watching sisters saw angels kneeling too. -And we, do we not see the ghosts of stillborn pity, and joy, and love, -and help, standing white-eyed and shadowy there? Yet wherefore should -all or any weep? The end is at hand; the labour is over and gone, and -soon she will rest so well that, even if she could, she would not quit -her quiet bed. Well may she sleep, poor, troubled soul, mistaken and -most noble in its errors; well may she sleep who, being dead, yet speaks -with a clearer and surer voice than she spoke with on earth, telling of -patience and sacrifice borne willingly for love’s sake, of faithful -endurance through pain and toil, teaching an example and a warning in -one word. And in the middle of their praying none heard at what moment -the sleeping spirit went. The abbess was dead; but the convent went on -as though she had been still alive. Another abbess took her place; -another nun saw visions and worked miracles in her stead, a lesser saint -but of the same quality. Even after Mechtild’s death some years after, -the old life went on—the old routine of sleep and prayer, or of forced -wakeful nights and baneful ecstasy; and the old life of insufficient -food and insufficient thought begot the old aberrations and diseases. -The fever had not yet run its course. - -We standing here, safe, as we imagine, from the deadly epidemic, -curiously studying these eight hundred closely printed pages as records -of morbid hysteria, may feel our hearts melt with a melancholy regret -for the shipwreck of so many noble lives. For the worst of this malady -was that it attacked the loftiest spirits, as phylloxera the oldest and -most fruitful vines. We may pity and praise them in a breath; we may -give a kindly wonder to their belated love and say that, but for them, -the sentiments that fills our hearts to-day would have been less -patient, less tender, less exalted. And this is well, that we should -honour the best in them. But let us take care that we ourselves are free -and whole; let us not deem ourselves too safe, but place a quarantine on -our own souls lest the sweet and fatal poison of mysticism penetrate -thither unawares. - - - - - THE ATTRACTION OF THE ABYSS. - - - I. - -As an island is surrounded by water, as night surrounds the stars, and -air the globe, so beyond the region of the known there stretches an -illimitable space of darkness and of silence. All minds know that it is -there; to many of us it is a background of repose to the busy scene of -life; to some the hidden tract has its chart of faith or dogma. But -there are others to whom that vast and dark Unknown is more present than -the small and shining certainty of the Universe. They are sucked into -the eddy of its vastness and its darkness. These natures turn from the -substance to dream of the shadow, they leave the narrow fields of -science and go out boldly over those unsounded waters beyond. Souls such -as these are never quite at home in life: the dark, the undreamed of, -the infinite has enchanted them. They are drawn by the attraction of the -Abyss. - - * * * * * - -Mysticism allures different men by different methods. It draws by -various lines the passionate heart, the broken and humbled will, the -heated fancy, the indignant spirit wroth at the hardness and evil of the -world. It draws no less the reasoning and metaphysical mind, repelled by -dogma and yet desirous of the Deity. For Mysticism is not only an affair -of dreams, of miracles, and visions, it is not only a satisfaction to -disordered imaginations, to diseased and stunted passions; it includes a -system of philosophy so logical that who accepts the first easy thesis -arrives without negation or amazement at the last. The Mystics have, in -fact, made a science of the soul, an elaborate system of abstractions, -quite logical in itself, although in contradiction to the truths of -physical nature. No one, indeed, is readier to admit this contradiction -than the Mystic himself, for the soul, he says, is exactly the contrary -of the body. It is therefore natural that as bodily life rises in the -scale from simple to complex, so the soul’s existence should be purest -when least differentiate. For the soul and the body meet on one level -for a moment, but they come from different positions. The human body is -the highest evolution of the animate world; the human soul, the Mystics -assure us, is the lowest and last descent of Infinite Being. In fact, -the soul of man is to Divinity in the same relation as the zoophyte is -to us. Only, unfortunately for the simile, in this strange supernatural -cosmos the zoophyte is higher than the man. Let us rather say that man, -having progressed from the zoophyte to humanity in body, must now in -soul ascend from the man to the zoophyte. For the soul, we must -remember, is divinest when most simple. It is the last descent of God, -and God (the Mystics say) is absolute unity and simplicity. “God,” says -Meister Eckhart, “is the simplest essence of existence; and who, -thinking of God, sees any distinction from utter simplicity, be sure he -seeth not God.” - - - II. - -“But how” (we can imagine one of Eckhart’s audience exclaiming), “how -can the absolutely simple be the manifold? God, you say, is the Simple -and the One; and yet you say that every soul descends from God. If God -is absolutely simple and single, He cannot divide Himself into many -souls.” Eckhart here, we may be sure, would smile and praise the -discretion of his assailant; for this objection brings us to the central -theory of Speculative Mysticism, the dearest dogma of Plotinus, of -Dionysius, of Scotus Erigena, as of Master Eckhart. - -Spirit is everywhere one. Spirit is in the Godhead and indivisible. The -Godhead exists, our Mystics tell us, above and beyond all Divine -theophanies; the Godhead exists as a vast and unfathomable ocean, -rolling its seas of emptiness and silence from pole to pole. But -everywhere the ocean is bordered by the land; and its waters, in the -circle of their tides, wash over a hundred shores, and fill a thousand -bays and creeks and little rocky pools. Even as the deep sea sends its -shallower waters over the sands, and then withdraws them into its -eternal and unfathomable fulness, so the waters of God flow into every -soul. And when the sea withdraws its tide, it withdraws not merely the -contents of this pool and yonder creek, but the sea itself, eternally -undivided, though for the space of a tide it filled the limits and the -hollows of the shore. - -But not all the strand, is washed by the sea; above a certain line the -sands grow their rank, stiff grass, and grey-green thistles; the sands -are almost land. And not the whole of the soul is visited by the Divine -simplicity; only the water-line, the arid depth of the soul, is swept -over and filled by the infinite being of God. “There is something in the -soul,” taught Meister Eckhart, “uncreated and uncreatable; there is -something in the soul which is beyond the soul, Divine, simple, an utter -nothingness; there is a place in the soul where God inhabits, and this -base of the soul is one with the base of God. And to reach this obscure -retreat of the Eternal and Divine, where the unconscious Godhead -dwells—this is the supreme and final goal of all created things.” - - - III. - -And how shall the Mystic reach this obscure and inner depth, this -silence where the soul is one with God? By sinking into himself. For the -Mystic there exists no exterior world. Since God is within us, what -value is there in the world without? “Omnes creaturæ sunt purum nihil,” -formulates Master Eckhart. For the Mystic the body is only a prison, a -distortion, a hindrance; its senses, its experience cannot teach him. -“Being freed from the folly of the body,” said Plato, “we shall of -ourselves know the whole real essence.” “Matter,” says Plotinus, “is the -principle of individuation, and who would seek the one must quit the -things of matter.” Without the body, then, we were no longer personal, -no longer separate; we were all One and all God. It is the body which -determines our character; there is no personality in the soul. We must -conceive it as pure water poured into a coloured vase, which becomes -red, or blue, or green, according to the colour of the vase. The colour -is not a principle of the water, and does not affect the water. So the -soul poured into the body appears to take a note and colour of its own, -but, poured out again, is seen to be unaltered. The first aim of the -true Mystic is to purify his spirit from this extraneous and earthly -tint; to make the vase, if he can, as colourless, as simple and uniform -as that infinite Being, of which, in Erigena’s phrase, the Soul is the -last descent. - -Since the soul is God the world is nothing. No more than the eye can -taste or the ear handle, can the created comprehend the Divine. “If we -are to know anything purely,” we read again in Plato, “we must be -separate from the body.” And Plotinus adds that he who enters in quest -of the One must ascend to the First Principle of his own nature. The -First Principle of Plotinus is the same as Meister Eckhart’s Foundation -of the Soul. It is the One. Intellect may be a means to reach it, but it -is certainly not an end. The Mystic philosopher thinks himself into an -ecstasy; and the ecstasy, not the thought, is his goal. - -Our Mystic has therefore abandoned the world, and abandoned his own -experience in the endeavour to attain to God. He must be quite still, -passive, dumb; the mystic should be as a new-born child who has not yet -smiled in his mother’s face. He must not even _will_ to be made one with -God. “He must have no seeking for himself more than has a corpse,” -writes Eckhart. “Let him be as one dead,” counsels Suso. “He must not be -satisfied with any deed or virtue,” adds the Flemish Ruysbroch, “but -only in the Abyss.” And Tauler rises to a passionate eloquence: “Sink -thou into thy Depth and thy Nothingness, and let the tower and all its -bells fall down upon thee; yea, let all the devils in Hell storm out -upon thee; let Heaven and Earth with all their creatures assail thee, -yet shall they all but marvellously serve thee.... Sink thou only into -thy Nothingness, and the better part is thine.” - - - IV. - -Death in life is the aim of the Mystic, and his consolation is the -thought of his annihilation. There is not any rest for him, and no -solace save in that which Suso calls “the desolate wilderness and deep -chasm of unsearchable Deity.” To us of a later age to whom the greatest -and most alluring promise of religion is the hope of Personal -Immortality, it is hard to realize a fact which must strike every -student; namely, that throughout the Middle Ages the most passionate -motive of a hundred passionate sects, the dearest thesis of the deepest -thinkers in the Church, was this intense desire of personal -annihilation. As a fact, this frenzy after Nothingness cost the Church -more heresies than any corruption in herself. The very doctors of the -Church were tainted with it. The lowest of the people—poor, starved, and -hunted fanatics—formed themselves into bands and brotherhoods to preach -this comforting gospel of extinction. The books of Dionysius the -Areopagite carried the Alexandrian theories of the One into every -monastery in Europe. The Almaricians, the Vaudois, the followers of -Ortlieb, the Beguines, the brothers and sisters of the Free Spirit, and -many other sects of poor and wandering people, spread their fantastic -corruptions of the same, throughout the working classes. From the -twelfth to the sixteenth centuries, the desire of many a mystical saint -was identical with the despair of atheists to-day. It was the extinction -of the personal soul. The whirligig of time brings strange revenges. - -Mysticism throughout the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries occupied, -in the thinking and religious world, a position almost identical with -that of Spiritualism in our day. Like its modern offshoot, mediæval -Mysticism could be superimposed on any cult or habit; like Spiritualism, -it lent itself equally to a grossly sensual, or an abstract and idealist -interpretation. And Mysticism, therefore, appealed to an immense -audience; to the ignorant and pretentious, dissatisfied with the -Church’s authority, merely because it was authority; to the pure -reformers, anxious to preserve religion and quit the formal and -corrupted shows of it; to tender, pious, and dreaming souls, with no -great hold upon the world of fact; to the abstract reasoner, eager to -preserve his faith while letting untenable dogma slip away. The -authorized religion occupied a singular position towards these Mystics, -who formed, as it were, a Church within the Church. Afraid to quite -disown them or, indeed, to openly disapprove, lest she might thereby -weaken her own hold, yet conscious all the while that these theories of -her children were scarcely less subversive of her own supremacy than -those of any heretic or atheist, the Church burnt one Mystic and -canonized another, with an impartiality born of vacillation. The -influence of the Mystics was indeed immense, and too serious to be -lightly regarded. They promised to destroy the prison, the canker, the -disease of _Self_—to let the freed soul loose from the body, to vanish -for ever in the Divine darkness of the unimaginable Abyss; they made the -comfort of many a dreaming soul, tortured by the ineradicable memory of -human sin. They offered to the tired thinker, the starved and weary -labourer, the broken nun, the harassed townspeople, an attraction which -the Church herself dared not openly afford; and many who had wandered -away from the hard-and-fast, strict-and-narrow fold of Rome, found a -refuge in Mysticism, who might else have thrown aside all claim to -faith. Even as to-day, many are Spiritualists who otherwise would -certainly be Agnostics. For Spiritualism insists on none of the bonds or -dogmas of religion, and offers a palpable proof to its believers of that -which religion only promises; that is to say, the Immortality of the -Soul, that golden mirage-fountain of our thirsty modern world. This was -precisely the position of mediæval Mysticism, only, as we know, it was -Rest, not Life, that she offered; extinction, and not continuance; not -Paradise, but the Abyss. - - - V. - -That a great many people everywhere at one time ardently desire one -thing is certainly no proof that their desire shall be satisfied; but it -shows a real want in the heart of man—a want which may be stopped by -altered conditions, if not by the actual things desired. As many people -longed for extinction in the harassed Middle Ages as pine for -immortality to-day. I do not mean to say they formulated this desire, -for most of them were fervent Christians. But life was bitter then, and -they hoped to extinguish their weary and craving souls in the -unconscious Godhead. When life is bitter now, we say “Eternal Justice -owes us a happier experience to discharge our sufferings here.” But in -both attitudes the same one fact remains, that so long as life is -bitter, men will crave and will complain. No modern preacher has spoken -more fervently of the joys of immortality than these medieval Mystics -spoke of the Abyss. Each to each has been the final and immeasurable -recompense for all the wrongs that ever there were in the world. By many -ardent Churchmen, and many saints, and many thinkers in the Middle Ages, -God was chiefly worshipped as the Abyss. He was the Supreme -Annihilation. The soul must plunge, says Eckhart, into pure Nothingness. -The soul must sink, says Tauler, in the Divine Darkness, into the secret -place of the Divine Abyss. “There is no safety,” says Guillame -Briçonnet, “save in the Abyss” (“l’abysme qui abysme en désabysmant”). -Adventitious reward, says Suso, may come in the consciousness of having -conquered evil and done good; but true reward, essential reward, is only -in the wild waste and deep abyss of inscrutable Deity, in the union of -the soul with sheer impersonal Godhead. This Godhead, says Eckhart, is a -simple stillness without quality or distinction. God is neither this nor -that. Who can distinguish and say, “This is good, sees not God; for all -that is in the Godhead is absolutely one, and formless, and void, and -interminable, and passive.” And the names under which God is chiefly -worshipped show this strange impersonal attitude. The Divine Dark, the -Obscure Night, the Desert, the Abyss, the Unimaged Nakedness, the -Infinite Essence, the Hidden Darkness, the One, the Supreme Nothing: -these are the names of this remote, abstract Jehovah of the mediæval -Mystics. - - - VI. - -To lose themselves in this unconscious beatitude was the religious ideal -of a thousand souls. To lose themselves, to drown, extinguish, break -through and beyond the hateful imprisoning Ego—this was the motive of -their mood. But what, we may ask, remains of a man after he has lost -himself so utterly? How can he distinguish the bliss of which he dreams? -How can he even know he is resting? We are suspicious that these Mystics -did not quite realize their own desires, that they meant some residue of -themselves to remain and enjoy the sensation of their own Nirvana. And -so we ask of them what they mean by the Abyss. “Thereof,” says Eckhart, -“we cannot speak. It is the simplest essence of existence, it is -unknown, and must ever be unknown. It is the simple darkness of the -silent waste. It is the utmost term.” - -But yet we are unsatisfied and persist in questioning. How can the -spirit of man, deprived of virtue, cognition, will, personality and -life, remain immortal? Still more, how can he enjoy such immortality? -The dim feeling of such eternal rest we all can understand, who have -gone suddenly from a lighted room into the vast night, and have felt our -souls suddenly invaded and possessed by a sense of mystery and silence. -We have felt this; but in his final beatitude the Mystic must not feel: -“He must be as one dead.” We also can understand the dizzy rapture of -unwinding abstraction from abstraction, till we weave a net that seems -to hold the heaven and all its stars. But the Mystic may not think. “He -must see neither distinction nor difference.” And the passionate upward -spring of the soul towards a God, unseen, unknown, in which it still -believes; thus might we pray. But the Mystic does not pray. “So long as -a man desires to do the will of God, so long he is not truly fit; he who -may seek the Godhead, he neither wills, nor knows, nor cares.” - -What then, we ask again, what is the satisfaction that draws your souls -so firmly towards the Abyss? Will no one answer? And Tauler, the great -Mystical Dominican, replies, “There remains to a man, the fathomless -annihilation of himself; and an absolute ignoring of his personal -self—of all aims, of all will, heart, purpose, use, or way.” - - - VII. - -It is not, then, a personal delight that awaits the Mystic in the abyss; -it is the sense of absorption in his Deity. It is hard to define the -character of this Godhead for which the man so gladly lays down his soul -and his life. Since it is identical with the foundation of the soul (and -this, Eckhart assures us, is not only Divine and simple, but an Utter -Nothingness), it is difficult to lay hold of the idea of its divinity—or -indeed of its difference from created matter which is also _purum -Nihil_, and it is easy to see how, by this path of negation, Mysticism -always diverges into Pantheism.... The essence of the Mystical Divinity -appears to be its very incomprehensibility; and it would be rash and -vain indeed to form an idea thereof. But we may at least attempt to -understand what that divinity appeared to its worshippers. - -“The One,” begins Plotinus, “is neither substance, nor quality, nor -reason, nor soul, neither moving, nor at rest, not in place and not in -time; neither is it of any sort or kind.” Thus we learn what things were -not intrinsic to the Deity; we learn that we must conceive a bodiless, -unqualified, impersonal, interminable Void; an eternal, undifferentiate -essence of existence; an infinite Being not to be approached by reason -or by soul. Eckhart goes a step further, and affirms not only what the -Godhead is not, but even what it is. “There is a Godhead,” he says, -“above God. The Godhead neither moves nor works.... It is a simple -Stillness, an eternal Silence.” - -If this were all we might comprehend the longing for quiet, the -passionate desire for rest which made the wearied and the -trouble-harried of all times deify silence and repose. Mysticism has -ever flourished best in starved or stormy ages. It is the shrinking of -the soul from a perplexed and hideous outer life; it is in some the -desire for love and peace, in some the desire for rest, in some for -immortality elsewhere. But in logical and speculative minds it is more -than this; the God of the Speculative Mystics is not merely Sleep, not -merely Dreams, not merely Stillness. They carry their reasoning -fearlessly to its natural conclusion, and this is worthy of all praise -in them; but that they should worship that conclusion is surely -strange—for “God is non-being,” writes Scotus Erigena; and, Eckhart adds -that when the soul penetrates the pure uncreate essence of the Godhead, -then Nothingness is at last in the presence of Nothingness. - - - VIII. - -God, then, is Nothing; Erigena has given us the phrase, for _Nihilum_, -he says, is the infinite essence of God. The soul is Nothing; “a -fathomless annihilation of self,” in Tauler’s words, “an utter -nothingness,” in Eckhart’s sentence. And, lastly, the world is nothing, -_purum Nihil_, and as unreal as the rest. Already, in the close of the -twelfth century, David of Dinant had declared that Everything is at the -same time Spirit, Matter, and God. The later Mystics added a new line to -his Thesis: All is One and All is Nothing. - -Such is the result of this strange Idealism, which sacrifices from first -to last the idea of personality to the conception of God. These are the -dogma of this singular phase of thought and feeling; a phase which -unites all that is cold and formal in philosophy with all that is -unreasoning, perfervid, and hysterical in a Religious Revival. The -doctors and preachers of Speculative Mysticism, have trances no less -real than those of Saint Francis; but what they contemplate with rapture -is not the idea of Infinite Love. It is Infinite Nothing which fills -them with ecstasy. And these Mystical thinkers are as precise and as -liable to become the mere pedants of a system, as any follower of Kant -or Comte. And yet, though they seek to use only their reason, they -despise reason. These philosophers look upon reason as the humble -handmaiden of ecstasy. And that divine ecstasy is excited by the thought -of a Nihilum. - -This indeed appears almost an absurd position; and yet the position of -the Mystics was honourable and intelligent. They attempted to answer -questions which even to-day the theologians elude (see Newman, “Grammar -of Assent,” p. 210). “Whence comes Evil?” Evil, they reply, is not -created by God, but, so to speak, the blanks and spaces not filled up by -His creation. Evil and pain have no Real Existence; they are but a -deficiency of vitality; they are negative and temporary qualities -unrecognized by an unconscious God innocent of inflicting them. “Why are -we created responsible beings without our own consent?” Our bodies are -not created by God and we are not responsible to Him for their errors. -They are the expressions of our Eternal souls—their own expressions at -their own desire as a _modus vivendi_ in the world. “How can God need -our action if He is omnipotent? If omnipotent, how tolerant of Evil? If -permitting suffering, sin, and Hell, how then All-loving? If All-loving, -how Just?” These questions are all answered by the mystical conception -of God as a Divine Passivity, an unconscious Fund of Existence. All that -is impossible and absurd in the theories of the Mystics is caused by -adapting them to religious ideas. They had to explain the immortality of -the soul, ... and they spoke of eternal absorption into an Infinite -Nothing. They had to explain a good and omnipotent God creating an evil -and impotent humanity. They made the one nothing and the other nothing. - - - - - THE SCHISM. - - -In the year 1377 the Pope was at Avignon. Seventy years ago a Pope had -come there, as the guest of the Count of Provence, in order to arrange -with the King of France the iniquitous extermination of the Templars. He -had come to Avignon in the hour of Papal triumph; for in the tragic ruin -of the Hohenstaufens, the prestige of the empire was destroyed at last. -But in reality this fatal victory had left the Pope no longer the -arbiter between France and Germany, but the dependent of the sole -surviving Power. The attraction of successful France drew the Pope from -Rome to Avignon. - -At Rome the Pope had left his Vatican, his authority, his tradition. At -Avignon, a chance guest, hastily lodged in the Dominican monastery, he -was little better than the Political Agent of Philippe-le-Bel. Yet he -showed no hurry to return. Clement was a Frenchman of the South, a -Gascon, at home in Provence but cruelly expatriated among the -dissensions, the enthusiasms, the treacheries of foreign Italy. Year -after year found him still at Avignon, and there he died in the year -1315. His successor, John XXI. or XXII., was another Gascon; and -Benedict XII. (1334-1342) and Clement VI. (1342-1352) were Frenchmen -also. They built a mighty palace at Avignon, immense, with huge square -towers, and walls—four metres thick—scarce broken by the rare small -pointed windows rearing their colossal strength high into the air. The -great golden-brown palace was less of a palace than a prison, less of a -cloister than a castle. It was, in fact, a baron’s fortress of the -feudal age; for the Pope had almost forgotten that he was Pope of Rome; -he was the Count of Venaissin and Avignon. - -He was rich; he was a great lord; he lived luxuriously within those -frowning gates. His rooms were full of money-brokers, weighing and -counting out their heaps of gold; and there arose no Christ to drive -them from the Temple. France, England, Germany, Italy, groaned in vain -beneath the exactions of the unscrupulous financial ability that -furnished the Court of Avignon with its soft living, its delicate -manners, its attention to the Arts. In the beautiful house upon whose -walls Simone Memmi had painted a host of his sweet and melancholy -angels, men forgot the trumpet clang of the name of Hildebrand; and when -the officers of Clement VI. dared to remonstrate with him upon the -Oriental magnificence of his palace, deprecating an expenditure beyond -that of any of his predecessors—“None of my predecessors knew how to be -a Pope,” replied the Count of Venaissin. The Papal ideal had changed. - -Yet it would be wrong to regard the Popes at Avignon as Oriental satraps -dreaming away, among enchanted reveries, a life of luxury. They were -above all things French and very French; active, keen, humane, with a -genius for prosperity, a natural quickness for organization. They had a -practical piety, of which they made a good income, not without an honest -expenditure of pains. Their missions were established in Egypt, India, -China, Nubia, Abyssinia, Barbary, and Morocco. Yet, though so eager to -convert the heathen, they kept no rancour in their hearts against the -unconverted. Cruel they were sometimes, for their age was cruel, but -often they were amazingly humane. John XXII. launched Bull after Bull in -defence of the unhappy Jews, massacred by Christian greed, and the -perverted pity of Christian superstition. “As Jews they are Jews, as men -they are men,” said the Pope. “Abhor their doctrines, respect their -lives and their wealth.” And Clement VI., when France and Germany -tortured and expelled the abominated nation, threw open wide the gates -of Avignon, and at the knees of the Vicar of Christ, he made a momentary -sanctuary for the Wandering Jew. - -Clement was followed by Innocent VI., another Frenchman, equally content -with Avignon. When he died it was nearly sixty years since any Pope had -trodden the holy stones of Rome. But his successor, Urban V., for all -his Gallic blood, revolted against the position of St. Peter as chaplain -to the King of France. He saw that the Church lands in Italy were -slipping continually from the Pope’s control, while Papal vicars -established themselves as hereditary masters of their fiefs, and city -after city declared itself with impunity no longer the vassal of St. -Peter, but a free Republic. - -In Germany the doctrines of Marsiglio and Occam had enduringly ruined -the prestige of the Pope. For they declared the Bishop of Rome a simple -bishop, subject to the law, subject to the Council, subject to -deposition at the hands of the faithful; his thunders were pronounced -illegitimate and harmless since no priest, but only a Council General, -could excommunicate or even interdict a nation or a king. In Germany the -Reformation had begun, as it was to continue, upon the lines of theory -and dogma; in England it was already a political revolt, a declaration -of national independence. In 1365 England refused to pay the tribute of -1,000 marks which John had promised to the Pope as to his lawful -suzerain. England at that moment was triumphant. Ten years ago the -battle of Poictiers had secured her hold on France. The French king had -died a captive in the Savoy in London, and Europe was not yet aware that -the new king of France was Charles the Wise. - -At that moment, indeed, France, in reality so near the top of the wheel -of fortune, appeared at her lowest. Nations and men forget how quick -that wheel revolves; and the Pope, beholding France his sole protector -against the world, and France the prey of England, felt himself no -longer safe at Avignon. In 1361 a company of freebooters had defeated -the Papal troops at the very gates of the Papal city; the Pope had -bought them off with a ransom, and had redoubled the fortifications. But -he had realized his insecurity. It was evident that the real interests -of the Church demanded the return of the Pope to Rome. - -Urban made a courageous, a heroic effort. He dragged his reluctant Court -of luxurious French Cardinals across the seas to Rome. But in that black -and savage haunt of robbers, the Pope remembered Avignon too well. He -came home at Christmas time in 1379; but it was only to die in the -beautiful familiar palace; and, out of France, the faithful called his -death the judgment of the Lord upon him who looks back from the plough. - -A brighter epoch opened for his successor, Gregory XI. The genius of -King Charles and his brothers, the Dukes of Anjou and Burgundy, had -restored the fortunes of France; and Anjou, at any rate, was aware of -the advantage which the House of France might reap from the partnership -of a Pope at Avignon. For the Pope, of course, was a Frenchman and -willing to assist in the triumph of his country, a triumph he could best -assist by remaining at Avignon to further and inspire the policy of his -king. Every tie, indeed, united to detain Gregory in Provence. He was no -ascetic, indifferent to glory or to comfort; but an affectionate, -natural man, loving his ease, loving his family, loving the land where -he was born. At Avignon he dwelt among his friends, his kinsmen, his -father the Comte de Beaufort, his mother, his four sisters. The stories -of his Cardinals could only add to his own horror of that distant Italy -whose language he could not speak. He was ill, and he dreaded the miasma -of Rome; he needed the comforts of that Court whose luxurious memory -should long survive in France. “You should have come to Europe a few -years ago, before the Schism,” writes the anonymous author of Maître -Jehan de Meun— - - “N’a pas longtemps mourût Gregoire - Je te dis que toute la gloire - Du plus hault seigneur terrien - Vers son estat n’estoit plus rien. - Là ne falloit ne pompe ne mise - Que herault sceult à devise, - Richesse du tout surmontant - Tout prince que lors fut vivant.”[5] - -Footnote 5: - - Paris: Bib. Nat. Français, 811; No. 7203; “L’Apparicion de Jehan de - Meun.” - -Yet it was Gregory the Eleventh who was to restore the Papacy to Rome. - -It was no longer so easy to return as it had been in the days of Urban. -That Pope had not removed to Rome until the energy of Gil Albornoz had -reduced the princes of Italy into submission. But now Albornoz was dead, -and Italy was more than ever tumultuous and discordant, for the French -Governors whom Urban had left behind him had filled the Papal states -with horror of the French Pope. Petrarch also was dead, whose pen no -less than the sword of Albornoz had been a potent instrument for the -return of Urban. The times were changed, and Italy, who had mourned so -long the Papal tiara fallen from her forehead, was no longer willing to -receive it. After seventy years of exile the Papacy had become a foreign -power, and by many of the Italian princes the restoration of Gregory -seemed little less than a French invasion. Of all the Papal states only -Orvieto, Ancona, Cesano, and Jesi remained true to him. Florence, of old -so faithful to the Church, was now united against her with the -Ghibelline Viscontis of Milan; and the Arch-Guelf clasped with a mailed -hand her new crimson banner written in golden letters with the one word -_Libertas_. - -The Italians seemed as capable of shaking off the Pope as they had been -capable of shaking off the Emperor. Only a few voices still lamented the -exile of St. Peter. Gregory knew very well that the return to Rome meant -strife and bitterness, and that he must re-enter his dominions bringing -in his hand not peace, but a sword. This prospect inspired him with -disgust and fatigue; while every principle of habit, affection, -patriotism, loyalty, and selfish interest conspired to keep him in -Avignon. All this in one scale; but there lay in the other the -conscience of the Pope and the voice that inspired that conscience. It -was the voice of a young Italian nun. Europe, distracted with wars, -perplexed, unguided, heard at last one voice that proclaimed the will of -God, and acknowledged her conscience in St. Catherine of Siena. - -The letters of St. Catherine came frequently to Avignon, and with them -came other letters from the French Governors telling of the increasing -difficulty of keeping together the little that was left of the patrimony -of St. Peter. Gregory became visibly disturbed. His conscience urged him -to return to Rome. In July the Duke of Anjou[6] came to Avignon to -dissuade the Pope from an enterprise so disastrous, as he believed, to -the future of France. Of all the royal princes Anjou was the one -specially concerned with Italian policy. He was a man handsome, -impressive, with a breadth of view and a force of ambition that made him -many followers. This son of St. Louis could not fail to influence the -Pope. He made it harder to go from Avignon; but the persuading voice of -Catherine would not be stilled. The Pope was ill and afraid, a timid -man; his sisters and his parents clung to him, entreating him to stay; -his Cardinals opposed him; his king commanded: yet on the 13th of -September he quitted Avignon. Evil omens added to the discouragement of -his spirit; his horse stumbled under him at starting, and fearful -tempests delayed him on the sea. But on January 17, 1377, the Pope -re-entered Rome. - -Footnote 6: - - July 17, 1376. - -The seventy years which had made the beauty of Avignon had ruined Rome. -No longer the pilgrims brought her the custom of foreign countries; the -Court of the Vatican no longer gave an impetus to trade; the prestige of -the Pope had ceased to make of Rome the centre of Europe; and the -deserted city had realized her intrinsic poverty. Thirty years ago -Rienzi had proclaimed her a cave of robbers rather than the abode of -decent men. The churches were in ruins,[7] many of them wholly roofless; -and in St. Peter’s and the Lateran the flocks nibbled the grass of the -pavement up to the steps of the altar. Row after row of ruined -dwelling-places gave way to wild fields and heaths—scars of desolation -upon the depopulated enclosure of Aurelian. If mediæval Rome lay in -ruins, the Rome of antiquity was yet more ruthlessly destroyed, and the -temples and theatres of the pagans were used as a quarry or a limekiln -by their savage and impoverished successors. For with prosperity, peace -and order had deserted Rome. The fierce clans of Colonna and Orsini -terrorized the starved and fever-stricken populace; and there was no law -beyond their tyranny. Murder was frequent, vendetta an honoured custom, -and the Eternal City the shambles of unpunished bloodshedding. - -Footnote 7: - - Pastor, “Geschichte der Päpste,” i. 63, after Gregorovius. - -In such a place decency, quiet, or even safety were naturally strangers. -The Cardinals, unwilling martyrs, mourned day and night for Avignon. The -Pope himself became disenchanted, ungentle, and embittered. But he was -resolved not to quit this odious Italy until the patrimony of St. Peter -was regained. Albornoz was dead, it is true; but in the Cardinal of the -Twelve Apostles the Pope found a spirit no less militant, resolute and -cruel to lead his armies against the revolted cities and to re-establish -in Italy the vanished prestige of Rome. - -Robert of Geneva, Cardinal of the Twelve Apostles, was, like the Pope -himself, a Frenchman of good family and aristocratic prejudice. His -father was the Count of Geneva, his mother Mahault of Auvergne and -Boulogne. In his eyes the revolt of subjects was a crime beyond excuse; -and when, as in the present case, there was added to the denial of the -divine right of sovereigns a heretic apostasy from the dominion of the -Church, his indignation dried the founts of pity in his heart. The -history of his whole life proves the Cardinal to be not naturally cruel, -nor even vindictive; but his campaign in Italy was terrible. With the -Frenchman’s distrust of the Italians, Robert refused to engage Italian -condottieri; he knew that these companies, changing masters continually, -were gentle to the enemy of the moment, the brother-in-arms of yesterday -and to-morrow. The Cardinal, fiercely in earnest, engaged the Breton -Jehan de Malestroit who had cried, “Where the sun can enter, I can -enter!” and the Englishman, Sir John Hawkwood, with his White Company -the most terrible of the day. Supported by these pitiless auxiliaries, -Robert of Geneva quenched in blood the fierce resistance of Florence, -Bologna, Cesena, Faenza, and other rebellious cities. Massacre after -massacre, sack and pillage innumerable marked his progress; but the -voice of the Churchman was never heard to cry for mercy. He had no -admiration for the obstinate courage of the besieged; they were rebels, -and beyond pity. “I will wash my hands in their blood!” he cried at -Bologna and at Cesena there were 5,000 slain. These things made the name -of the young Cardinal an abomination in Italy. But they secured in one -campaign the submission of the Italians. - -The laurels of Robert of Geneva still were green when, on March 27, -1378, Gregory the Eleventh died at Anagni. The Pope had been on the -point of returning to Avignon; and the necessity of their prolonged -residence in savage Rome, and the fact that the Conclave must be held -there, fell with the weight of misfortune upon the impatient Cardinals. - -It was the first Conclave that had been held in Rome for fifty-seven -years, and the Roman populace clamoured in the streets for a Roman Pope. -But among the sixteen Cardinals of the Conclave, eleven were French. -They might easily have carried the necessary majority of two-thirds had -they been of one mind among themselves; but the hatred of North and -South did not merely divide the French from the Italians; it divided the -Frenchmen among themselves. Gregory and Clement had both been Limousins, -and the majority of the French Cardinals decided to continue this -tradition. The remnant, however—the Gallicans, as they called -themselves—preferred even an Italian to a Limousin; and their spokesman, -Robert of Geneva, made overtures to the Trans-Alpines. The result was -the election of a man of no party, a man who was not even a Cardinal. -Bartolommeo Prignano, Archbishop of Bari, was an Italian; but he was -something more than an Italian; he was a Neapolitan, a subject of Queen -Giovanna, and therefore presumably in favour of the French. He had lived -at Avignon, and was familiar with French customs and French policy. It -was hoped that he might prove a bond of union. Scarcely was his election -accomplished, in haste, amid the noises of the shouting mob outside, -when the impatient Romans burst into the Conclave, clamouring for a -Roman Pope. The Cardinals dared not confess their choice of a -Neapolitan, and in their terror they lied, imposing on the people the -Cardinal of St. Peter’s, a Roman born. This fraud, together with the -constraint put on the Conclave by the violence of the mob, were a few -months later alleged against the validity of the election of Prignano. - -But at first no conscience was troubled by this irregularity. For six -months the Archbishop of Bari wore an undisputed tiara, and Urban VI. -succeeded quietly to Gregory. Urban was zealous for reform, passionately -determined against simony, pure in his life, energetic, resolute; but -virtue has seldom been manifest in so unlovable an Avatar. The man was a -Neapolitan peasant: short, squat, coarse, and savage. He flung rude -words and violent speeches like mud in the faces of his elegant French -Cardinals. “Fool!” “Blockhead!” “Simoniacal Pharisee!”—such were the -hard nails with which he studded the ever unpalatable word Reform; and -one day, had not Robert of Geneva caught the holy father by the sleeve, -he would have struck a Cardinal in the assembled Consistory. - -Robert of Geneva was thirty-six years old; he was tall, commanding, with -a handsome face and fine manners. His aristocratic urbanity veiled a -nature that did not scorn to do and dare. There could be no greater -contrast to the Pope than he, and he became the idol of the Cardinals, -although, in fact, he, the Arch-Gallican, was the distant cause of the -election of Urban. His reputation for ferocity in battle added a -prestige to his pleasant courtliness: it was he who should have been the -Pope! He would not have kept the College, throughout the sweltering -summer, in Rome where the detested Urban declared that he would live and -die. Something must be done, and at once, for Urban threatened to create -a majority of Italian Cardinals. One by one the Cardinals left Rome for -their health. Their resort was first Anagni, thence they went to Fondi. -It was an open secret in Rome wherefore they found the air so good -there. Urban got wind of their conferences, and on the 18th of September -he created twenty-eight Italian cardinals. Two days later there was a -great ceremony in the church at Fondi. The French Cardinals announced to -the world that at last a legitimate Pope had been elected in succession -to Gregory. He was, of course, a Frenchman; he was Robert of Geneva; he -was Clement VII., the first Antipope of the great Schism. - -The Church was terribly divided by this news—Clement, elected by all the -French, was not repudiated by the Italian Cardinals, who, playing the -waiting game of their nation, remained neutral. Yet the contest was a -contest not of persons, but of nationalities. “The significance of -Urban’s election lay in the fact that it restored the Papacy to Rome, -and freed it from the influence of France.”[8] Catharine of Siena -clearly perceived this significance, and wrote of Clement, who was to -undo her sacred mission, as “a devil in the shape of man.” In the North -of Italy the campaign of Clement in the previous year persuaded the -decimated cities of the truth of this opinion; but the South was not -firm for Urban, and Naples openly declared herself the champion of his -rival. The confusion was not only in Italy. The Church everywhere was -shaken to its foundations. In many bishoprics there were two bishops;[9] -there was a terrible doubt in the minds of the Faithful, for of the two -Popes, one must be Antichrist, his followers heretics, and consigned to -eternal damnation. It is not too much to say that the authority of the -Church never recovered from this long and terrible questioning. The -minds of the pious turned from the Church to God; Mysticism and heresy -consoled the uncertain; and false prophets were common in the land. - -Footnote 8: - - Creighton, “History of the Papacy,” vol. i. p. 64. - -Footnote 9: - - Especially in Germany—Mayence, Breslau, Constance, Metz, Loire, - Breslau, Lübeck, &c. See Pastor., _op. cit._, book ii. p. 108, _et - seq._ - -Confusion in the Church was echoed by confusion in the State. England, -because of the war with France, was passionate for Urban. The Empire -also was for Urban; and Brittany, and all whose hand was against the -French. “France desires not merely the Papacy, but the universal -monarchy of the globe,” wrote Urban to the Emperor.[10] But among the -smaller states France had still her supporters; Scotland, Savoy, Naples, -Leon, and Castile followed in her wake, and declared for Clement. There -was great joy in France. Louis of Anjou, perhaps the first of European -princes to send in his adhesion to the Antipope, was consoled for the -departure of Gregory; and when the news was brought to the king, he -exclaimed, “I am Pope at last!” But the joy was the joy of princes, not -the joy of the people. The nation mourned the confusion that had fallen -on the Church, and the University of Paris wrapped itself in a -melancholy neutrality. - -Footnote 10: - - Sept. 6, 1382. _Vide_ Pastor., p. 108. - - - - - VALENTINE VISCONTI. - - - I. - -Valentine Visconti, greater than Helen as the cause of battles, was born -in the Abbey of Pavia, in the year 1366. Her grandfather, Galeazzo -Visconti, had left Milan rather suddenly, being ill with gout and -“temendo la severità” of one so skilled in the use of succession-powders -as Bernabò his brother, co-tyrant with him of Lombardy. He had designed -a safe and splendid castle for himself in Pavia. While it was still -unfinished Valentine was born in the hospitable old Certosa there.[11] - -Footnote 11: - - At the same time there dwelt in Milan another little Valentine - Visconti, daughter of Bernabò, in after years the widowed Queen of - Cyprus, and herself an interesting and pathetic figure. - -Galeazzo Visconti had taken with him from Milan his wife, Blanche of -Savoy, his little daughter Iolanthe, and his married son Giangaleazzo, -with his wife Isabelle. These last were the parents of Valentine. When -she was born her mother was sixteen and her father fifteen years of -age.[12] At her nativity there were, we are told, incredible rejoicings; -for the pride of Galeazzo Visconti was gratified by the birth of a -grandchild who was no less the grand-daughter of a King of France. - -Footnote 12: - - Corio on different pages puts the date of the birth of Giangaleazzo as - 1352 and 1343. The first date, 1352, agrees with the account of - Galeotto del Caretto and the Deed of Majority in Corio. - -The mother of Valentine was that little French princess who, six years -ago, had been sold into Lombardy to help to raise the golden millions of -her father’s ransom. John the Good had received for his daughter the sum -of five hundred thousand golden florins, a sort of inverse marriage -portion, the price of a royal alliance. But Galeazzo had not paid for -barren honour only: Isabelle had brought her husband the county and the -title of Vertus in Champagne. Though the little girl had gone weeping -into Italy, her tears were soon dried. She had left a devastated and -ruined country; she came into a land of sumptuous tyranny, of riches and -magnificence. Life was easy at Milan and at Pavia, where Galeazzo was -busied with his new university, where Giangaleazzo—a timid, -intellectual, orderly creature—spent day after day in his study full of -enormous parchment ledgers, directing the staff of secretaries who -copied into them his accounts, his memoranda, and duplicates of his -correspondence. Priests and friars from the old Certosa, professors of -law and learning from the new college, poets also—the English poet, -Master Geoffrey Chaucer, and the prince of poets himself, Messer -Francesco Petrarca,—learned men like Philippe de Mézières, visitors from -so far away as England, France, or Cyprus—these were the guests of the -palace. Gradually the stately home echoed with children’s voices. -Valentine was born in 1366. One brother grew strong and playful at her -side; another died in babyhood. When the third was born, in 1373, -Isabelle died, and a few months afterwards her baby followed her. - -The immense castle of Pavia was very quiet now. Iolanthe, the girl-widow -of the Duke of Clarence, had married, in 1372, the Marquis of Monferrat. -There were only the old Visconti and his wife, and the studious young -Count of Vertus and his two little children. It was quieter still when, -in 1378, Galeazzo Visconti died. He had been a terrible old man: cruel, -unscrupulous, scholarly. It was he who obtained from the Emperor, -Charles IV., in 1361, the privilege to found the University of Pavia, -and he who protected it by an edict threatening with heavy punishments -the Milanese who dared to study in another school. And he it was, also, -who threw alive into a fiery furnace two priests who came to him on an -unwelcome message; and he who, with his brother Bernabò, had poisoned a -third brother, co-heir and co-tyrant with them in Lombardy. They had -divided his share, Galeazzo taking Piacenza, Pavia, the west to Novara, -and as far as Como in the north; while Bernabò possessed the rich -province of the east. Both ruled alike in Milan. Both should have been -equally powerful. But Galeazzo had left all his share to the sole Count -of Vertus, and he, too, had only one son to follow him, whereas the -signory of Bernabò was strengthened and divided by eleven turbulent and -violent young sons. - -Valentine’s father remembered the fate of his uncle. He kept very quiet, -surrounded himself with priests and guards, ate of no dish before a -score of stewards tasted of it, and dissimulated his ambition. This he -did so well that the timid Count of Vertus became a by-word and a -laughing-stock in the house of Bernabò. Although the young man had taken -care to obtain from the Emperor investitures which conferred upon him -_absolute_ authority;[13] although by his judicious protection of the -people he made himself the desired deliverer of the unhappy Milanese, -still Bernabò and his children could not take their kinsman seriously. -And the better to lull their suspicions, in 1380 the young Count of -Vertus came a-courting to the noisy Castello di Porta Giovio, where -Bernabò kept house with such of his nine-and-twenty children as still -remained in Milan. It was a great riotous house full of voices, full of -splendid young men in armour (Palamedes, Lancilotto, Sagramoro), full of -beautiful women and fair young girls with lovely names (Achiletta, -Verde, Damigella), and not less radiant for their easy familiarity with -evil. One of these dangerous maidens, Caterina, the Count of Vertus took -to be his second wife. In the next year, in 1381, on the 4th of October, -his boy, Astorre, died. - -Footnote 13: - - Tu, spectabilisque Azo, natus tuus ... auctoritate, bayliâ, nec non - Regiæ Potestatis plenitudine, tam ordinariâ quam absolutâ, &c., Feb., - 1380. Luenig. De Ducatu Mediolanense, in the “Codex Italiæ - Diplomaticus,” No. xxvii. See also Investiture of Asti, 1383, to - Giangaleazzo (vos et heredes vestri) in the Archives Nationales, K. - 53, dossier 22. - -Valentine was now his only heir, for during the first eight years of -their marriage Caterina Visconti had no children. Valentine was fifteen -years old, of an age to be dowered and married. Her father, however, -kept her at home with him, teaching her many things—too much, some -people said, for they thought her as wise as Medea. She could invent -posies; she could read not only Italian books, but Latin, French, and -German. Into whatever court she might hereafter marry, she would be not -only the daughter of the Duke of Milan, but his diplomatic agent. I do -not know if she could speak English, but in those years of warfare the -English were often at Milan, and Valentine when a little girl had seen -(a brilliant, sudden vision) her English uncle of Clarence, who had died -so strangely at Alba, and was buried at Pavia. She was a scholarly -maiden, possessing of her own no less than eleven books; more than her -grandfather, King John, had ever owned in his royal library at Paris. -And she could write as well as read—a clear, excellent hand, of which -the signature still exists in the Paris archives. Froissart in later -days remarked on the frequent letters that she wrote to her father: -“Madame Valentine wrote him all she knew.” - -I do not know if Valentine was beautiful. A line in “Le Pastouralet” -speaks of her as - - “Maret, qui le miex dasoit,” - -and mentions the courtesy of “la touse mignotte”—the dainty dame. This -conveys an impression of nothing more positive than elegance and grace. -We can fill up the frame with a couple of portraits which still exists -in the Bibliothèque Nationale: small grisaille illuminations adorning a -manuscript poem[14] in defence of Valentine. There is nothing very -distinctive in either portrait—no accent of striking personality or -resemblance. They represent the same young and slender woman, rather -tall, with a long neck and slim arms, and a bust both full and delicate. -The head is small, the hair parted from ear to ear across the middle of -the head, the back locks being tied in a Greek knot, the front ones -divided again in the middle and looped in pendant braids above the ear. -Under this severe coiffure we discern a serious gentle placid face—long -narrow eyes, a high forehead, a full mouth with pretty pursed lips; a -face too closely following the mediæval ideal for it to impress us very -strongly as a likeness. Valentine is clothed in a low-cut, tight gown -girdled round the hips, with long, tight sleeves descending to the -knuckles of the slim and delicate hands—over this she wears a very ample -trained surtout, also low in the neck, falling in rich folds to her feet -and buttoned down the front to the hips, where it is sewn together, but -split up at the arms in immense wide sleeve-holes, a yard long, -revealing the under dress. If the young duchess was not precisely -beautiful, yet certainly she was beautifully attired. The catalogue of -her gala-dresses is a thing to wonder on: scarlet, and silver, and cloth -of gold, and rich embroidery; cloths of peacock-green and mulberry -colour; tissues of netted pearls. And she had as many pearls, diamonds, -sapphires, and balass-rubies as any princess in a fairy-story. She wore -them sewn all over her caps, round her girdles, encircling her young -throat, and showered broadcast across the brocades and embroidery of her -gowns. With all this, at sixteen, and with the subtle sweetness of the -natural Lombard grace, it is not necessary to be beautiful. - -Footnote 14: - - “L’Apparicion de Maistre Jehan de Meun,” Fr. ii., 7203. MSS. Bib. Nat. - - - II. - -In 1382 certain guests came to Milan, who marvelled at the magnificence -of these Viscontis, who talked much with Valentine’s father, and who -spread abroad the tale of his daughter’s wisdom and her splendour. They -must also have impressed on the mind of this young girl the strength, -the beauty, and the wealth of France. And they must no less have spurred -the silent and vigilant ambition of her father; for in the late May of -1382, along the roads of Lombardy, four thousand men rode together to be -the guests of Milan. They were all mounted on beautiful chargers -caparisoned in silk and precious metals; they were all clad in suits of -burnished armour; light aigrettes floated from their helmets. “They -seemed the army of Xerxes,” wrote the Monk of St. Denis; “their beasts -of burden went slowly under loads of gold and treasure. Those that -beheld them, astrologers and prophets, read in the future the records of -their fabulous glory.” In truth, they were a host of heroes. Knights -like the Count of Savoy and the Count of Polenza went in the ranks. At -their head rode a tall, square-shouldered man, with fair locks beginning -to grizzle, and a handsome countenance. He was magnificent in his cloak -of woven gold and lilies. This was Louis of Anjou, King of Sicily, -setting out for Naples to conquer his new kingdom. - -A kingdom in Italy! It was the dearest vision of the age. The kingdom of -Adria, a dream never realized; the kingdom of Naples, a phantom eluding -for two hundred years the eager grasp of France. In the subtle mind of -Giangaleazzo Visconti, a third, a vaster kingdom, was already taking -shape—a kingdom dead and buried for near five hundred years—the kingdom -of Italy! - -But to gain Italy it was necessary to be secure in Milan. While his -guests rode on triumphantly to famine and disaster, the Count of Vertus -elaborated his plan. When the King of Sicily, wrapped in a remnant of -homespun daubed with painted yellow lilies, lay dead in his unconquered -kingdom, defeated in his grave at Bari, Giangaleazzo Visconti ruled -supreme in Lombardy. - -He had plotted so well that one sole death secured this change. On the -6th of May, 1385, Giangaleazzo, apparently _en route_ for the shrine of -our Lady of Varese, passed by the gates of Milan. His uncle and his -cousins went out to meet him, smiling at the immense guard which ever -attended the timid Hermit of Pavia. But now Giangaleazzo dropped the -mask. In an hour Milan was his, his cousins his prisoners, and his -uncle, with his _dilettissima amante_, fast in the Castle of Trezzo. -Giangaleazzo, no less skilled in poisons than his father, had him -poisoned there, and buried him in Milan in a sepulchre of splendid -marble. But he showed no wanton cruelty. His cousins escaped, destitute -indeed, but unharmed. No unnecessary pain attended the murder of the -tyrant Bernabò, decently executed by a well-cooked dish of vegetables. -Ambition, not revenge, nor the blood-mania of his race, was the master -passion of the new Lord of Lombardy. If any questioned his proceedings, -he could produce the investiture of Wenzel, granting him absolute -authority and final judgment. The children of Bernabò were stupefied and -did not rebel; most of the sons went to fight in the ranks of Sir John -Hawkwood; and the people of Milan hailed the Count of Vertus as a -deliverer. He taxed them heavily, indeed, but without disorder; and his -police were so excellent that he used to smile and say, “I am the only -robber in my provinces.” Giangaleazzo was now master of a great domain, -immensely rich, three-and-thirty. He meant to go far. In 1386 he sent to -Pope Urban, demanding the title of _King of Italy_. - -Urban refused, and in future the Ghibelline Count of Vertus addressed -his requests to the Emperor, or else to the Anti-Pope at Avignon, who -asked nothing better than to make himself a party in Italy. But first of -all, Giangaleazzo began to conquer his kingdom. Verona, Padua, Pisa, -Siena, Perugia, Assisi, Bologna, Spoleto, fell like ninepins before his -gathering force. Florence began to tremble. Foreign countries began to -talk of this new conqueror, of his force, his wealth, his one young -daughter. Clement the Pope of Avignon, among others, perceived that with -Anjou in the south and Visconti in the north, a great Gallic party might -be formed in Italy. Clement was at once the creature and the patron of -the kings of France. In the winter of 1386-87, while the Milanese -messenger still were in the saddle arranging a marriage between -Valentine and the Emperor’s brother, suddenly the Governor of Vertus -arrived at Pavia. He brought a message from the King of France, the -young Charles VI. The King demanded the hand of Valentine for his only -brother, Louis. - -This was an important step. The two first children of the King of France -had died as soon as they were born, and Louis was still the heir to the -Crown. Valentine, six years after her father’s second marriage, was -still his only child. It was current in France that the Count of Vertus -turned to his daughter and said, “When I see you again, fair daughter, I -trust you will be Queen of France.” - - - III. - -This proposal, which came as a surprise to Europe and almost as an -outrage to the Emperor, was no surprise to the Lord of Milan. Months -before Giangaleazzo had laid his plans. There exists at Paris in the -Archives Nationales (K. 554, No. 7) the summary of a Project of Marriage -between Louis and Valentine, dated the 26th of August, 1386. - -It is interesting to note that in this early draft there is no thought -of any possible French claim to Milan. Valentine is dowered with Asti -and its revenue—for which her husband was never to be constrained to pay -homage; she was also to bring her husband 450,000 golden florins, and to -come to him “bien joyellée et aornée de joyaulx.” And, only after the -death of her father, she was to succeed to the county of Vertus in -Champagne. - -This was a great deal, but this was not enough. There was in France a -strong party so hostile to the Lord of Milan, that riches, and mere -riches, were not enough to overpower their opposition. Visconti desired -above all things a Royal alliance. He saw that the Guelf—the national -party—in Italy was strong and was unrepresented. He would be Head of the -Guelfs, until he secured something better, and his best title to that -Headship was a French alliance. Moreover, self-preservation, no less -than ambition, rendered the marriage desirable. Isabel of Bavaria, -granddaughter of the murdered Bernabò Visconti, was Queen of France. How -could Giangaleazzo suffer that his exiled cousins should possess so -tremendous an advantage over him? He may have felt himself insecure in -his usurped sovereignty, so long as France was united by blood and -interest only to the Disinherited. If Valentine married Louis, Milan was -safe from France. So at Christmas, 1386, Giangaleazzo offered the -husband of Valentine the county of Vertus, in his lifetime as well as -after his death, and included in the marriage contract the astounding -clause of the succession of Valentine to Milan. - -Even without this, Valentine was a very wealthy heiress; she brought -back to France her mother’s dowry, the county of Vertus in Champagne. In -addition to this she took into the kingdom 450,000 golden florins, a -freight of golden ornaments and jewels, furniture to the amount of -70,000 florins, gold and silver plate, and the county of Asti in -Lombardy, with a yearly income of nearly 30,000 golden florins.[15] - -Footnote 15: - - This was the estimate of Giangaleazzo. The actual revenues proved to - be a little less, and an arrangement _à l’amiable_ was made between - him and his son-in-law (Arch. Nat., K. 554, dossier 6). - -The county of Asti comprised a whole province of towns, villages, and -castles. Thirty signories were in its fief; forty-eight villas paid -homage to the Count of Asti; Brie and Cherasco, two large towns in -Piedmont, belonged directly to him. In the politics of those times few -things are more striking than the singular lightmindedness with which a -king of France bestows upon a Lombard adventurer a county in the very -heart and centre of his own kingdom; or the confidence with which an -Italian conqueror hands the key of his position to a wealthy neighbour. -The situation of the French at Asti turned out to have the very gravest -political consequences. It assured them Savona, Genoa, Pisa for a -moment, and a century of wars about the Milanese. For this secure -footing in Lombardy gave a point of reality to their vision of an -Italian kingdom, and made the subtraction of Italy from the Empire -appear not only desirable but possible. On the other hand, it -familiarized Italy with the French. Henceforth the Italian princes, in -any dispute among themselves, would call in the protection not only of -the King of France but of their French neighbour, the powerful Count of -Asti. - -But at first the Lombards did not like it. “I Lombardi,” says Corio, -“furono di mala voglia.” What they really dreaded was the succession of -Valentine and her French husband to Milan. This is too complicated and -intricate a question to dispose of here. I will only say that the -Italians believed that in some fashion Giangaleazzo had secured Milan to -his daughter, in case he should have no sons, or (as actually happened) -in case all his sons should die childless. But the question of the -French claim to Milan deserves a history to itself. - - - IV. - -In April, 1387, Valentine of Milan was married by proxy and parole to -Louis, Duke of Touraine. The bride was twenty-one, the bridegroom just -sixteen; but, as Juvenal des Ursins remarked, “Assez caut, subtil et -sage de son aage.” But not until the 3rd of June, 1389, did the Lord of -Milan send his married daughter to her home in France. - -For in France a powerful faction opposed the marriage. The king -was little more than a lad; entirely—or, of late, _almost_ -entirely—submissive to his uncle, the Duke of Burgundy. When the -wise King Charles expired in the autumn of 1380, he left the -custody of his two children to this younger brother of his, who in -all his battles and adventures had been his right-hand man. But -the King left the Regency of the Kingdom to the elder of his -brothers, the Duke of Anjou. In every sense the brothers were -rivals and antagonists; the interests of Anjou lay to the South, -the interests of Burgundy to the North. Anjou was a man of -culture, made by nature to be the head of a society of nobles; -while Burgundy, the Captain, was the champion of popular rights. -In nothing were they at one. When Anjou left the kingdom to -conquer Naples, and when the news came to France that he would -nevermore return, the supremacy of Burgundy appeared secure. But -Anjou had left behind him a successor—not his son, the child-king -of Sicily. No, the real successor to his aims and policy was his -nephew, the Prince Louis, the younger of the two sons of the dead -king. - -Little harmony between this lad and his uncle of Burgundy! At ten years -old the child fights like a hero at Rosebecque; but the old captain, his -tutor, keeps all his smiles for the other nephew, the docile and amiable -king. He feels in Louis a spirit of danger, a breath of insubordination. -And, in truth, one after the other, the ancient counsellors and -servitors of Anjou take shelter in the household of the prince. Burgundy -feels that Louis is Anjou Redivivus—he must be kept low. And for this -the testament of Charles V. gives ample warrant: for that king, -well-named the Wise, feeling that the danger of France lay in the -greatness of her princes, had conquered his fatherly heart and decreed -that his younger son should have no more than a pension of 12,000 livres -a year. But this was not to be. As time went on, and the Regency came to -an end, Louis stimulated his placid brother to a sense of independence. -And the young king, less Roman than his father, and glad perhaps to feel -in the kingdom another power than that of Burgundy, began to enrich his -only brother, giving him the counties of Valois and Beaumont, lands in -Cotentin, Caen, Champagne, and Brie: then the Duchy of Touraine; the -promise of the inheritance of the old Duchess of Orleans; finally, this -rich marriage with Valentine Visconti. - -Burgundy resisted with might and main. Not only would this marriage make -Louis too strong, but of all brides Valentine was the bride least to his -mind. For Burgundy had married two of his own children into the House of -Bavaria, and had given a Bavarian princess—the vivacious Isabel—as wife -to the young king. Now all these Bavarians were the grandchildren of -Bernabò, murdered by the father of Valentine. Also the niece of -Burgundy, Béatrix d’Armagnac, “la gaie Armagnageoise,” had married in -1382. This Carlo Visconti, Lord of Parma, heir of Bernabò, had been -stripped of all his goods by Giangaleazzo and Beatrice, no longer -laughing, had returned to eat the bread of exile in her brother’s house. -Thus the Queen, and Burgundy, and Armagnac, and Berry (the other brother -of the dead king) were bound by every instinct of natural anger and -honourable vendetta to look upon Giangaleazzo as the spoiler of their -kinsmen—of mother, children, niece, or husband—and in their eyes the -riches of Milan were the price of blood. Not one of these but hoped to -oust the usurper and restore the rightful line. And so for two years -they contrived to defer the marriage.[16] - -Footnote 16: - - See Comte Albert de Circourt, “Le Duc d’Orléans, frère du roi Charles - VI.: ses entreprises au dehors du royaume.” Paris: Victor Palmé, 1887. - -Meanwhile the influence of Burgundy weakened, that of Prince Louis -increased, with the king. In the autumn of 1388 the disastrous “Voyage -d’Allemagne” deeply discredited Burgundy, its author. In their tent at -Corenzich, far from Queen and Court, the two brothers held long -colloquies. Not in vain did Louis plead for his bride. In the summer of -1389, Philippe de Florigny was sent into Lombardy to bring her home. - -Valentine took away with her an escort of knights, a burden of gold and -gems, the possession of Asti, and the promise of Milan. She had in her -caskets three hundred thousand pearls of price, beside the pearls upon -her gala-dresses. Her plate was valued at more than one hundred thousand -marks Parisis. Her jewels, ornaments, and tapestries were estimated at -nearly seven hundred thousand golden florins.[17] Giangaleazzo had found -nothing too costly or too radiant for his only daughter. When at last he -let her go, he rode with her out of the gates of Pavia, saying never a -word of farewell, looking not once into her beloved face, lest he should -fall a-weeping. In the saddest hour of her tragic life, Valentine -remembered with tears that silent parting. - -Footnote 17: - - The florin, the Venetian ducat, and the French franc were - interchangeable coins worth about nine-and-eightpence of our money. - They are the equivalent of our half-sovereign, the French crown that - of our half-guinea; the Burgundian noble being, I think, the only coin - that reached the value of the modern guinea. See the tables for - 1384-1394 in De Wailly. - -It was the 17th of August, 1389, according to the dates of the Monk of -St. Denis, when Valentine rode into Melun to meet her bridegroom. The -King was there as well as all the Court—a Court full of kinsmen for -Valentine. The Viscontis counted their alliances with the kings of -France back into those mythical ages when Æneas, ancestor of either -House, founded the city of Angleria. Valentine found plenty of more -recent connections. The King and her husband were both her first -cousins, and so was the young King of Sicily; the Dukes of Burgundy and -Berry were her uncles. She was also, as I have said, first cousin once -removed to the King’s young wife, Isabel of Bavaria. She was cousin also -to Madame de Montauban, cousin by marriage to Madame d’Armagnac. But -these three kinswomen looked on her with horror, and all her splendour -seemed to them unholy spoil fresh from the unclean hands of her father, -the triumphant assassin of his kinsmen. - -The jealousy and suspicion of the Queen must have been the earliest -greeting of Valentine at Melun. Queen Isabel was the idol of the Court. -Radiantly beautiful, eighteen years old, she was not satisfied with the -devotion of her husband. Charles VI. was a gentle, kind-hearted, -stalwart young man, at two-and-twenty already rather bald, clear of eye -and cheek, generous, slow-witted, unapt to State and dignity. He was -lovable and sweet in temper; “he emitted, like an odoriferous flower, -the ingenuity of his perfect character,” writes the anonymous Monk of -St. Denis. But at his side, more brilliant and more eloquent than he, -rode the first knight of chivalry, the King’s only brother, Louis, Duke -of Touraine. This young man was eighteen years old, extremely handsome, -so witty and so wise that in the University of Paris there were no -doctors who were proof against his _bonne memoire et belle loquelle_. -Often at night, in the Hôtel de Saint Paul at Paris, he and the young -Marshal Boucicault would sit into the grey hours of the morning, -devising and arguing the nature of the soul, or making rondels, songs, -and ballads. Other days and nights were spent in less innocent -amusements; for the beautiful Duke of Touraine was so irresistible a -lover that popular fancy endowed him with a magic wand and an enchanted -ring, making him absolute master of all women. None the less—though in a -knight it were more noble to succour than to enslave fair ladies—the -Duke was considered (a woman has pronounced it) “the very refuge and -retreat of chivalry.” And the charm of his youth and beauty, of his -rhetoric and laughter, of his gentle manners and brilliant knightliness, -still exhales from the dusty pages of Christine de Pisan and Juvenal des -Ursins. These two loved him. But the hostile Monstrelet, the critical -Monk of St. Denis, the unenthusiastic Froissart—even these assure us of -his enchanting presence. - -According to Burcarius the King was handsomer than his young brother; -but we must allow for a natural Burgundian hostility to Louis, and a -natural Burgundian preference for force and valour, fresh colour, sweet -temper, good humour, and all vigorous northern qualities, in preference -to the subtler charms of their enemy. The stalwart Fleming thinks the -King the finest man at Court, and handsomer than any there, far -handsomer than his wife, “jolie et avenante,” indeed, but “basse et -brunette”: fatal defects in the eyes of a Fleming! Her indisputable -empire over men he ascribes not to her face, but to her lively manners. -“Folle et légère,” was she: - - “Touse n’y avoit tant jonette - Plaine de sy grant gaiété - Ny de sy grant joliveté - Sy amoureuse, ne sy lie, - Que cette Bergère jolie.”[18] - -Footnote 18: - - Le Pastoralet. A Burgundian satire, in the form of a Pastoral, written - by one Burcarius in the first half of the fifteenth century, and - published of late years in the Baron Kervyn de Lettenhove’s collection - of Belgian chronicles. - -As for Louis, the Burgundian has no word in favour of this melancholy -free-lover, this _Tristifer_ (for such is the name he goes by among -shepherds) who sins with no pleasure in sin; who spends his days in the -pursuit of love, yet keeps a heart of iron; whose joys are such as are -not to be found in the real world, but the fantastic joys of art, -repugnant to the Philistine: - - “Tristifer, tristièce portant. - ... Et tout fut-il jolis, - Trop sembloit-il mirancolis; - Qui le coer a plus dur que fer. - - . . . . . . \. - - Bien nouvelette chanson - S’en va tout chantant à hault son, - Qu’il avoit, par un soir bruyant - Et bel, rimoié en riant.” - -Thus the Burgundian ... unaware that this portrait of his enemy is the -only one that awakens curiosity and stimulates the fancy. And, by way of -adding a blacker touch than all, he tells us that this singing Tristifer -is the paramour of the gay Queen Belligère. - -I have said that Louis was held to possess an unearthly ring, a magic -wand, of desire. For a perfect knight it was said that he had put them -to strange uses. He had fascinated with his wand, he had bewitched with -the circle of his ring, the young wife of his brother, the beautiful -Queen Isabel. And he was the bridegroom of Valentine Visconti. Queen -Isabel was at Melun to greet her new kinswoman. We can imagine with what -critical eyes she ran her over. Valentine, though not beautiful, was a -novel and irradiating vision in her veil of gems. She was wise too; she -could talk with her husband over the poems he made, the verses of Lord -Salisbury and Maître Eustache Deschamps, the romances of Wenzel of -Luxembourg, or of Maître Jean d’Arras, all the literature of the Court. -She could argue with him, this subtle Lombard, in the tenuous and -fanciful dissertations that he loved. Queen Isabel could not endure to -see this stranger, by reason of her splendour and her novelty become the -centre of attraction. The marriage festival was scarcely over when -Isabel persuaded her husband to ordain a greater festivity for herself. -She had been married four years, she was known by sight to every clerk -in the Rue St. Denis, yet the King, obedient to her behest, proclaimed -the Royal Entry of the Queen into Paris. - - - V. - -This Paris that Valentine entered as a stranger was a beautiful city. -The streets and bridges had been largely rebuilt by her uncle, Charles -the Wise. Between the new Bastille and the river he had raised an -immense royal palace, the Hôtel de St. Paul. Close at hand stood the -Palais de Tournelles, the great hotel of the King of Sicily, the Hôtel -Clisson, and the Hôtel de Behaigne, where the husband of Valentine -sometimes lived. A little farther off (in the Rue de Turbigo) the castle -of the Duke of Burgundy still rears its out-dated menace. On the left -bank of the Seine another group of palaces surrounded Nôtre Dame. At the -extremity of the city stood the Louvre. Rebuilt by Charles the Wise, it -was endowed by him with a library of nine hundred and ten volumes -(chiefly illuminated missals, legends, miracles, and treatises on -astrology). There a silver lamp burned always day and night in the -service of students, to whom the library was ever open. - -Paris was a beautiful city; but it seemed a paradise upon the occasion -of the royal entry. The Rue St. Denis was draped from top to bottom in -green and crimson silk scattered with stars. Under the gateway angels -sang in a starry heaven, and to the sweet sound of instruments little -children played a miracle. There were towers and stages raised along the -streets, where the legend of Troy-town and other pleasant matters were -enacted. There were fountains also, flowing with milk or flowing with -claret. Maidens, in rich chaplets of flowers, stood beside them and out -of golden cups they gave the passers-by to drink, and sang melodiously -the while; up and down this magic city went the citizens’ wives and -daughters in long robes of gold and purple. The citizens themselves were -clad in green, the royal officers in rose colour. But all these -splendours paled and dwindled when the royal procession came in sight. -In the middle, in an open litter, sat the Queen, the beautiful, smiling -idol of the feast; she was dressed in a gown of silk, sewn over with -French lilies worked in gold. Behind her, in painted cars, went the -great ladies of the Court. Only the Duchess of Touraine had no litter; -Valentine rode on a fair palfrey, marvellously caparisoned; she went on -one side of the Queen’s litter among the royal dukes. The people of -Paris, says Froissart, were as anxious to see the new Duchess as the -Queen, whom indeed they had often seen. For Madame Valentine was -immensely rich, the daughter of a great conqueror, and she had only just -come out of Lombardy, a mysterious country where wonderful things came -to pass. What impression did Valentine make on the people of Paris, -pressing and craving to see the foreign duchess? - -Which of her gala-dresses did she wear? The scarlet one sewn thick with -pearls and diamonds, with a cap of pearls and scarlet for her dusky -hair? Or the robe of gold brocade with sleeves and headdress of woven -pearls? Or the flashing crown of balasses and sapphires, and the dress -of scarlet sewn with jewels and embroidered with pale blue borage -flowers? In any of these this splendid Italian stranger must have -appeared to the burghers of Paris as a vision of Southern luxury, of -mysterious outlandish enchantment. At least it is certain that never -after they looked upon her as a mere mortal woman. Just at that season -every one was reading the “Mélusine” of Maître Jean d’Arras. Valentine -of Milan with her fairy splendours, her subtle wisdom, her Lombard -traditions—Valentine, with the Visconti snake on her escutcheon—must -have seemed to these Parisians much such another mysterious -serpent-woman, another Mélusine. For the Italian character, never -fanatic and yet so prone to spiritual passions; seldom bestial, yet so -guilty of unnatural vices—Italy has ever been a mystery, a hateful -enigma to the practical French; and of all Italians the Lombards, the -border people, are most unlike their Gallic neighbours. A century later, -when the French poured into Italy, no blazing mountain of Vesuvius, no -wonderful Venetian city swimming in the seas, no antique and glorious -ruins of Rome, so much astonished the foreign soldiers as the learned -and subtle ladies of Lombardy. Those later chroniclers who have been in -Italy relate with wonder their fables of ecstatic virgins, and gifted -women wiser than their sex; they have seen one Anna, a woman forty years -of age, who never eats, drinks, or sleeps, and who bears on her body the -mystical wounds of Christ, breaking out and bleeding afresh on every -Friday. In Milan, a demoiselle Trivulce, “de son grant jeune aage,“ -wrote letters in Latin and was eloquent in oratory; “elle estoit aussi -poeticque” (adds the author of La Mer des Chroniques) “et scavoit moult -bien disputer avecques clercs et docteurs.” And also she was virtuous, -so that her holy life seemed a thing to marvel on. At Venice, Maître -Nicole Gilles encountered a certain Virgin Cassandra, the daughter of -Angelo Fideli, a maiden expert in the seven liberal arts and in -theology, all of which matters she expounded in public lectures. At -Quiers, near Asti, a “jeune pucelle,” the daughter of Maître Jehan -Solier, received the king with a public and most eloquent oration. -Learned and subtle and virtuous as these Lombard ladies were, -enthusiastic and spiritual as were many of their countrymen, yet this -strange Italy, where the women taught the men, where Jesus Christ in -Florence was the official head of the Republic, inspired a secret dread -and horror in the French. Like men in an enchanted country, they feared -what might lurk behind the shows of things. Above all, the French could -never rid themselves of a haunting suspicion of poison—poison and -sorcery, underhand and terrible weapons, such as these frank and -passionate Gauls associated with the subtlety and wisdom of the people -they had conquered. “And yet,” says Commines, “I must here speak -somewhat in honour of the Italian nation, because we never found in all -this voyage that they _did_ seek to do us harm by poison, and yet, if -they had chosen, we could hardly have avoided it.” - -This attitude of suspicion towards Italy, of reluctant admiration, -characterized the French of 1494. Minus the admiration, it is quite as -significant of the French to-day; and in 1387 the same distrust was -there, but sharper, more anxious, and the same wonder, but intensified. -Valentine the Italian, seemed to these alert, honest, practical -Parisians a marvel of strangeness and wisdom; but to them these -attributes suggested chiefly a fatal potency for evil. - -And, in truth, there was in Italy a wickedness such as for another -hundred years should not penetrate into France. The Italians were a -nation of secret poisoners; and the French bourgeois vaguely guessed -that this splendid young lady was acquainted with a world terribly -different from their ingenuous and turbulent Paris. No need for -turbulence in Italy. Valentine’s father poisoned the uncle who, for his -part, had, poisoned his own brother. And Giangaleazzo, who, as Corio -relates, had been nearly poisoned by Antonio della Scala, disposed of -that enemy by the self-same means. The Florentines[19] (but theirs is -the evidence of an enemy) said he paid his official poisoner a hundred -florins monthly. These it was murmured were the traditions of the new -Duchess. - -Footnote 19: - - Lamansky: “Secrets de l’Etat de Venise,” pp. 157-159. Also “Archivio - di Firenze,” Signori Legazione Commissioni, &c. Filza 28, folio 7 t. - -Thus, after all, Queen Isabel played but the second part in the pageant -of her entry. Soon, however, she forgot her jealousy of the Italian—a -jealousy which on that holiday kept her sick in her chamber, while -Valentine danced with Touraine and the King in the royal ball below. But -Valentine was no rival of the beautiful, bright little Queen: she was a -persistent, ambitious, and devoted woman, never vain and never timid. -From the first she lavished on her boyish husband that passionate -devotion of an elder woman which asks no return from the radiant young -creature she adores. She did not grudge Louis the love of Isabel, if, -indeed, that love was his. A stranger thing happened: Valentine united -with her rival to push the fortunes of Touraine. These two women were -ever together, ever scheming, and planning the welfare of the unfaithful -husband of the one, whom an unbroken tradition has regarded as the -criminal lover of the other. An unnatural league; but it served to -strengthen Touraine. - -For Valentine and Isabel alike had the ear of the King. Charles VI., a -little slow, a little dull, neglected in his Court, betrayed by his wife -for his more brilliant brother—this gentle, kindly, unimportant creature -was irresistibly drawn to his sister-in-law. Of all her royal kinsfolk -in France, the King was the only one who from the first had welcomed -Valentine. “My dear sister, my beloved sister,” the words were ever on -his lips. Valentine, like him, was set aside; like him she suffered. -She, too, was patient and gentle; but she was strong, she was prudent. -The King of France was a great heavy lad, over-boyish for his years, -loving jests and disguises, hating ceremony, and only very dimly feeling -the wrongs that perplexed him; he sought from the sweet and quiet -Italian her protection no less than her compassion. - -In 1390, at Montpellier, the King could not support his absence from -her. “I am too far from the Queen and Madame Valentine,” he said to his -brother. “Let us ride post haste to Paris.” Unaccompanied and for a -wager, they rode all the way, four nights and nearly five days in the -saddle.... A little later the physicians said that such violent -exercises as this had unsettled the feeble reason of the King. - - - VI. - -In 1391, the young Duke of Touraine acquired the succession of the -Duchess of Orleans. He was now as rich as he was ambitious. Could the -old king, his father, have seen his eminence and his ambition, he would -have risen from his grave, and have returned to the salvation of France. -But the dust was in his ears and eyes, and it was not to be so. - -For some time the King had been ailing with a hot fever. He was, says -the Monk of St. Denis, strange, languishing, and bewildered. When, in -the summer of 1392, the French invaded Brittany, the Dukes, his uncles, -conjured him to remain at home. But Charles was not to be persuaded. He -started with them upon the long, fatiguing journey. - -On the 5th of August, near the town of Mans, after some hours of riding -in armour under a beating sun, the royal party passed the -Lepers’-village. A beggar, a leper, dressed in rags, the outcast of the -world, the lowest human thing, came out and accosted the young King of -France: “Go no farther, noble King, they betray you!” The King was -startled, and though the Royal Guards interfered they could not at once -shake off the loathsome prophet. Clinging to the King’s bridle, the -leper cried again, “Go no farther, noble King, they betray you!”... They -betray you! Louis and Isabel, his nearest and dearest, what else did -they? The King said nothing. - -About an hour afterwards, suddenly, the King set upon his brother, his -spear a-tilt, as hunters hunt a stag.... The more distant of the royal -party thought the King had spied a hare or a hart in the forest.... -Then, as the truth dawned, there was a dreadful scene. Cries, wounds, -men falling from their horses, and a fanatic madman who none the less -was still a sacred and irresistible presence! The King of France was -furiously and murderously mad. - -Four men were slain, others saved themselves by simulating death. -Orleans fortunately was not hurt at all. For four days the King’s frenzy -lasted, with fits of delirium and lapses into death-like exhaustion. The -most cruel part of his sickness was the evident anguish of his spirit. -“Will no one pluck out of my heart the dagger that my fair brother of -Orleans has planted there?” the poor mad youth would cry; and he would -mutter to himself, “I must kill him! I _must_ kill him!” It was useless -to instruct the people that there is no reason in the sick hatred of a -distempered mind. Nor would they find sufficient motive in the rumoured -unfaithfulness of Isabel with Louis. They sought a darker, a more subtle -explanation, and their suspicions were fostered, for political ends, by -the enemies of Orleans—the faction of his uncle, the Duke of Burgundy. - -For when the King recovered from his frenzy, his mind remained weak and -disabled. It was necessary to hand over to his uncles for a while the -direction of affairs. This made the strongest of them, Philip, Duke of -Burgundy, more than ever strong; he was in fact, though not in form, the -regent. Against his rule one voice was ever raised in protest, the voice -of the young ambitious brother of the King. - -Louis of Orleans was now twenty-one years of age; through his marriage -and the gifts of the King he had become formidably rich; through the -weakness of the King he was formidably powerful. He was the nearest to -the throne and he desired the regency. But the people suspected Orleans; -he had too much to gain by the death or the incapacity of his brother. -The people, in their passionate pity for the gentle monarch they adored, -began to hate and fear the Queen and Orleans. In later days they did not -scruple to declare their misgivings, but at first they dared not -directly accuse the Queen, they would not directly accuse the young, -beautiful Louis, their pride from his childhood, eloquent, religious, -gay, slow to anger. With Juvenal they found him “beau prince et -gratieux;” and, like Christine, they accounted him, “en ces jeunes faiz -et en toutes choses très-avenant ... car il aime les bons ... nul -fellonie ni cruauté en luy.” But he was young; he had been led away -(Juvenal finds the phrase for them) “_by the means of those who were -near to him_.... He had strange youthful follies that I will not -declare.... _There were those about him_, young people, who induced him -to do many things he had better have left undone.” This vague and -mysterious excuse is the veil of a terrible accusation. The people began -to say that the Duke of Orleans was a sorcerer. - -The King mad; the King’s brother a wizard! There was a contagion of -horror in France. “Many nobles and poor people,” writes the Monk of St. -Denis, “began to change and sicken with the same strange malady that had -attacked the King.” The fanatic terror of supernatural evil spread and -deepened. - -Things, at that critical season, fell out unfortunately for Orleans. On -the 29th of January, 1393, there was a wedding festival at the Hôtel de -St. Paul for one of Queen Isabel’s German maids of honour. The bride was -a widow, and thrice a widow; therefore a subject for the grotesque -licence of the age. At night, in the great hall among the dancers, -suddenly there burst in a company of six satyrs dressed in tight linen -vests, with flakes of tow fastened with pitch upon their backs. These -hideous merry-makers sprang and danced about the bride, with leaps and -gestures, in a sort of diabolic frenzy. Five of them were chained -together, the sixth disported loose. The sixth was the King. Stung by -some unlucky madcap prompting, Orleans took a flaming torch from its -bearer, and held it close to the face of one of the maskers to see who -he was. A flake of fire from the torch dropped among the tow and pitch. -Up and down the hall, dancing a wilder and more terrible saraband, the -flaming satyrs went. Two were burned to ashes, two died of their burns -in agony, one saved himself by leaping into a water-butt. The King was -rescued by the Duchess of Berri, who wrapped him in her mantle. But the -danger and the fearful spectacle had upset his tottering reason. The -King was mad again. - -The people were furious against Orleans. Had Charles been burned, his -brother’s life must have answered for it; for the people loved the King. -The party of Burgundy—the popular party—did not hesitate to accuse the -unfortunate young Duke of a fiendish plot to murder his brother. It was -in vain that Louis raised a magnificent chapel of marble in the Church -of the Celestines, to expiate his involuntary guilt. The people murmured -that the Duke of Orleans went too often to the Celestines. It was said -he went there every day. So much devotion was uncanny in so wild a -liver. - -Charitable souls like Demoiselle Christine declared in vain—“C’est -impossible que son âme et ses mœurs n’en vaillent mieux.” Charitable -souls are rare. The mass of the people did not hesitate to say that -Louis visited the Celestines the better to conspire with a certain monk -there—an old counsellor of his father’s—one Sire Philippe de Mézières. -This person was acknowledged to be wise, experienced, able, and a man of -science, according to the age. “Cestui vieil solitaire” for forty years -had been the counsellor of princes. For thirty years he had been the -life and soul of the policy of Cyprus, of Rhodes, of the Christian East. -Then disgraced by an ungrateful king—Pierre II. de Lusignan—he took -refuge in France, bringing to the service of Charles V. his enthusiasm, -his political wisdom, his minute and extensive acquaintance with the -Courts of Italy and the East. In 1379 he entered the Convent of the -Celestines in Paris; not too secluded to remain the trusted counsellor -of Charles V., and in his turn, of his son Louis of Orleans. But though -the good Sire was a monk, the crowd doubted of his religion, for it was -common rumour that he said there was no truth in sorcery. Let him say -it! Sire Philippe de Mézières was none the less no judicious companion -for the Duke of Orleans. The Sire had lived too long in Lombardy: “a -country,” as Juvenal describes it, “where they practice magic and the -casting of spells.” - -About the same time a malignant rumour grew in France concerning the -father of Valentine. People said the Seigneur of Milan had asked the -French Ambassador for news of the King. “He is very well,” replied the -Frenchman. Whereupon Visconti grew pale, and staggered. “He is the -Devil!” he said, with great admiration; or, according to another -version, “Diabolicum recitas et quod est impossibile—You tell me a -diabolic thing, and one that is impossible! _The King can not be well!_“ - -Now, it was generally known in Italy that the Duke of Milan, like every -other successful prince or Signory, was a secret poisoner. But in France -a more terrible and a yet more hateful accusation was rumoured against -him. The people began to whisper that the Duke of Milan was a wizard. - - - VII. - -The King was mad again; he had fallen into the first of innumerable -relapses. Henceforth, for thirty years, any moment of too poignant -feeling would throw him back in agony and madness. At such times he -suffered much. It would happen (says the Monk of St. Denis), that as he -sat in his council chamber, receiving his ambassadors and discoursing -with sense and clearness, a sudden shudder would pass over him, the -actual world would drift into oblivion. Again the forest near Mans, the -leper’s warning, would rise on his tormented vision. He would shriek out -for help against his enemies, and yet, poor king, be still aware these -enemies were phantasms. At such moments he would cry and wail and sob, -till all the Court fell a-weeping to hear him. “O not madness. Death, -any pain, anything but madness!” and joining his hands he would look -eagerly in face after face of his kinsmen. “I pray you, for the love of -Christ, if any of you be party to this magic, then let me die at once -and end it.” But no prayers avail, and as the fantastic world of lunacy -gradually eclipsed the receding truth, the King’s last entreaty showed -the unaltered sweetness of his tormented nature. “Keep away all the -knives,” he would cry. “I had rather die than hurt any one.” For no -lapse of time, no suffering effaced in his gentle character the stamp of -that terrible moment of Mans when he had awoken to find his innocent -hands stained henceforth for ever with innocent and loyal blood. - -While the King wailed in desperate protest against his oncoming madness, -all the Court wept with him. But, once that eclipse accomplished, the -Court forgot the King. Part of the royal palace of St. Paul’s had been -turned into a safe asylum. There the King lived, sometimes for many -weeks unwashed, eaten with filth and vermin, suffering no attendant to -approach him. He was then a mere wild beast, tormented with canine -hunger, fierce, suspicious, and sometimes wild with fear. Then he would -pace from end to end of his apartments, fleeing his imaginary pursuers, -until he dropt exhausted in senseless lethargy. - -But more often, and especially in the first years of his illness, he was -not sunk so low as this. He was then an aimless, laughing, boyish -imbecile. He was no longer the King even in his own fancy; he had -forgotten himself as others had forgotten him. Did he see his own arms -or the Queen’s emblazoned anywhere upon the walls, he would smear out -that heraldry, laughing the while and dancing in a burlesque, unseemly -fashion. “These are not my arms. I am not King Charles. My name is -George,” he would cry, “and my arms are a lion pierced with a spear.” -The poor King was himself transfixed with that intangible spear his fair -brother of Orleans had planted in his heart for ever. But in his -madness, his jealousy had undergone a subtle change. Sometimes he could -not endure the sight or mention of the Queen and Orleans, but more often -he utterly forgot them. Once they brought Isabel into his presence. He -shook his head and swore he did not know the lady. - -There was in all the world one only creature whose presence shed a -little balm and solace on his unhappy lunacy. This was his -sister-in-law, Madame Valentine. She was the only person he ever fully -recognized. Absent and present he called upon her, “Oh, my dearest -sister! Oh, my beloved sister!” and if Valentine left him a single day -unvisited, the poor king would wander up and down for hours in aimless -regret and complaining. - -Valentine was kind and pitiful. Although at this time she was ailing -(her second son was born in August, 1393), she did not fear to bring her -delicate magnificence into the filth and peril of the mad king’s -presence. For hours she would sit with him, playing at cards: those -painted Saracen Naibi which Covelluzzo noticed at Viterbo (the first -known in Europe) in 1379. Perhaps Valentine had brought them out of -Italy; they were the only pastime of the haggard king; and for hours the -painted images of Death, Love, Fortune, Madness, and the Angel, would -silently fall from the hands of these two unhappy people, keeping each -other melancholy company in the dismantled chambers of the barred and -altered palace. - -Valentine was ill herself; she was a woman; and yet she was not afraid -of this tall, broad-shouldered young man of twenty-five, subject to -violent mania, who in one fearful paroxysm had slain four men in armour. -His attendants dared not come too near. But Valentine seemed to bear a -charmed life, she did not even tremble. This unnatural courage of hers, -this fascination, this mastery which she exercised upon their king ... -all this was terribly explicable to the people of Paris. - -Who was this lady?—Valentine of Milan. “Now,” says Juvenal, “her father -was the Duke of Milan,[20] who was a Lombard, and in his country they -practise magic and the casting of spells.” “The common people,” says the -Monk, “declared the King was bewitched. They accused the Duke of Milan, -and in confirmation of this ridiculous proposition they said the Duchess -of Orleans was the only person the King recognized or cherished in his -sickness. They did not scruple to say she was a witch, though that so -generous a lady should commit so great a crime is a fact that never has -been proved.” “The King’s physicians, arioles, and charmers,” says -Froissart, “affirmed the King was poisoned or bewitched by craft of -sorcery; they said they knew it by the spirits that had showed it to -them. Of these diviners, arioles, and charmers, certain were burned at -Paris and at Avignon. They spake so much, and said the Duchess Valentine -of Orleans, daughter to the Duke of Milan, had bewitched the King.” - -Footnote 20: - - Giangaleazzo in 1395 obtained the title and investiture of the Duchy - of Milan from Wenzel, King of the Romans, for 100,000 florins. - -In those days the accusation of sorcery was terrible and ominous. To -bewitch the King was the most damnable of crimes, for witchcraft in -itself was treason against God. It was indeed no less than taking out of -heaven the tremendous issues of life and death, apportioning them with -profane and mortal hands, and breaking the heavenly order of the -universe. God was mocked. This side of sorcery excited the horror of -theologians, but it was not this that infuriated with helpless terror -the shuddering populace. We know how the Polynesian islanders will die -to-day of a fatal langour if they believe their enemy has prayed against -them. The citizens of Paris in the Middle Ages died as easily. -“Throughout the kingdom,” says the Monk of St. Denis, “many nobles and -poor people are attacked with the same strange malady as the King’s.” A -contagion of fear paralysed the sources of life. “For they can bewitch -you,” said, in 1407, Maître Jean Petit, a very learned doctor in -theology; “and they can bewitch the King, and make him die in a very -subtle manner, quite unapparent, by the casting of a spell.” “A word is -enough,” said two Augustine friars who suffered for sorcery in 1397, “a -word, a touch; it is no natural malady.” To those who suffered, and saw -their near and dear ones suffer of this incurable, inexorable -enchantment, there was no death too cruel for the wizard. - -The Duke of Milan was a very powerful magician. By spells and sorcery -he, the weakest of his clan, had made himself the most astute and potent -of all the princes of the West; by spells and sorcery he would make his -daughter queen of France. “Il n’y avait qu’une bouche à clore,“ said -Jean Petit. Valentine, the people thought, was helping her father, for -the Duchess of Orleans was a witch. - -The powers of the Prince of the Air were in high places. Valentine was -not only protected by Satan—not only served by Hermas and Astramin the -two livid demons of Montjoy that obeyed the House of Orleans—she was -also sheltered by the effulgence of the throne. Every power, every -protection was hers. Hell and earth obeyed her, and heaven smiles upon -the sins of princes. Yet with the cruel heroism of pity the people of -Paris rose against her, pouring down the streets, reaching out their -fanatic hands to tear in pieces no omnipotent demon in a violent aureole -of flame, but a pale neglected foreign woman far from home. They -determined to save the King, and at last the peril of the duchess grew -so great that Marshal Sancerre and many other nobles advised her husband -to send her out of Paris. So in great pomp, nowise abashed, but with all -the splendour of a royal progress, Valentine left the city. She went to -a fair castle of her husband’s near Pontoise, and then to Neufchatel -upon the Loire. She went alone, for Orleans was kept by State affairs in -Paris. There was a subtle political reason for the irritation of France -against the Milanese. In the complex recesses of the human heart an -actual terror of supernatural evil, a crusader’s passion to avenge the -honour of God, may co-exist with the most sordid calculations of a -worldly advantage to be gained. It was not only for the love of God that -the Jews and Moors of Spain, the Protestants of Flanders, the -monasteries of England, were made to enrich their persecutors. It was -not entirely for thirty pieces of silver that Judas delivered a heretic -to the secular arm. And it was the easier to condemn the Duke of Milan -that he was not only a wizard, but the political rival of France for the -rich suzerainty of Genoa. - - - VIII. - -The French had counted upon Giangaleazzo Visconti rather as a captain -than as a rival. Visconti had looked upon the French as the tools of his -ambition, and not as serious competitors. In reality each was in pursuit -of the same thing; each desired to be supreme in Italy. - -Visconti had easily acquired the direction of his son-in-law’s policy. -It is not surprising. A lad of eighteen, poor, kept under, -systematically neglected, Orleans before his marriage had known little -of power, nothing of supremacy. He was nominally Duke of Touraine; but -his estates were administered by the King. Until a few months before his -marriage he had not even a house of his own, but lived with his retinue -in a corner of his brother’s palace. In February, 1389, he appeared for -the first time at the Royal Council. Valentine brought him wealth, -consideration, and ambition; for, with the possession of Asti, and under -the guidance of his father-in-law, the young Duke began to dream of -battles and signiories in Italy. - -Visconti was very willing to adopt his daughter’s husband in place of -the clever and valiant son he should have had. His own son was a baby at -the breast. And Orleans brought him not only a clear young mind, a fresh -and eager will and the courage that the great Visconti never had, but -also the influence of France. Thus the great Ghibelline saw within his -reach the support of the Guelfs. To reconcile all parties for his own -interest was ever the aim of this unrivalled statesman, as magically -gifted to make peace as to foment a discord. Ghibelline and Guelf, -Emperor and King of France, Pope and Antipope, aye, even Orleans and -Burgundy, should join hands to fight his battles. - -His first move was a whisper of ambition in the ear of his son-in-law. -And Louis forgot his love-making and ballad-making, his jousting and -feasting, and turned to other thoughts. Asti was his; Asti should be the -centre of his operations, and in swiftness and silence a French army -gathered in Asti. - -In 1389, the very year of Orleans’ marriage, there was peace with -England; hence, leisure in Court and camp; hence troops of riders and -men-at-arms infesting every countryside, preying on the ruined peasants, -and loitering hungry for another war. Nothing easier than to enlist a -company! In 1389 Orleans sent to his new county François, Seigneur de -Chassenage, as governor with twenty men-at-arms and two chamberlains, -each with twenty men-at-arms and thirty archers. Fifty-five other -men-at-arms and as many archers were added to these, and formed the -nucleus of a rapidly increasing army. By the end of June more -men-at-arms and squires joined the service. Enguerrand de Coucy, -Lieutenant of the Duke and Captain-General _ès parties d’Italie_, went -to keep his state at Asti in July.[21] - -Footnote 21: - - Arch. Nat. (K K. 315 f^{os}. 9-52): “Notes à compter faiz à certaines - gens d’armes et archiers retenus par Monsieur le Duc à son service - avant la venue de M. de Coucy ès parties d’Ytalie.” - -From this moment, long pages of the manuscript account book of -Chassenage are filled with lists of captains, men-at-arms, and archers. -Archers under Braguet, archers, under Viezville, a concentration of -devoted Orleanists, once Angevines, in Italy. Italian names, also, begin -to crop up in the French harvest: Messire Othe Tusque, des parties -d’Italie, Messire Jehan Visconti, escuier, Messire Aloyset de Plaisance, -also Luquin Rusque, Francesquin Martin demourant à Pavey, Hannibal -Lommelin of Genoa and his troop, others from as far as Florence and -Venice. Then a great name, commander of many others, a name that means -business: _Messire Facin Can and his company_. - -The red towers of Asti—still here and there existing, a bouquet of -wine-red stems slenderly streaking the pale and radiant Lombard sky—the -red towers of Asti, innumerable then, grew home-like and familiar to -many a French lord. No dreary exile this—large houses, wine-red also -(“non hanno acqua ma vino per impetrargli,“ laugh the men of Alba), -beautiful churches, a rich plain, streaked with the wide Tanaro, and -girt with hills. At night, the Alps come out, invisible by day; they -appear at sundown even as a rose-red heavenly wall divinely dividing the -Lombard country from the unseen land of France. - -Yet here are the French and quite at home. Plenty of wine, red and -white; beautiful women; plenty of money. Orleans pays fifteen francs a -month to every man-at-arms (but a man-at-arms, we must remember, is more -than a man, being at least the soldier himself, his page and his -varlet), eight francs a month to every archer; two hundred francs a -month to Chassenage and the chamberlains; four hundred and fifty to -Enguerrand de Coucy. All this serves at least to bring wealth and custom -to Puielhez, mine host of the Cross of Asti, who supplies the wine. But -for what other purpose does Orleans thus dissipate his new-got treasure? -The “Dance of Fools,” sculptured on a wall in the market place, by some -gay ironic band not long dead then, looks down with silent bells and -silent laughing lips that answer not. - -In August, Orleans sends one of his men (Blaru), on a secret embassy to -his father-in-law at Milan, another (Craon) to the Antipope Clement.[22] -They have scarcely gone when he sends another (Garancières) to Pavia. In -February of the next year (1390) there is much prate at Court of a -voyage to Italy—voyage being then the polite name for an invasion—in -order to establish Pope Clement in his see of Rome. - -Footnote 22: - - De Circourt, _op. cit._, p. 48. - -And now, little by little, the great plan disengages itself—audacious, -simple, as befits the brain of Visconti. Orleans and Burgundy themselves -start for Pavia, and arrive there in March, 1391. Brilliant Visconti, to -have persuaded Burgundy that the expansion of Orleans in Italy will -leave him free to extend his grasp at home! Great things also, as we -know from a passage in Walsingham,[23] are vaguely held out to Burgundy. -As for Orleans, there are no bounds to his ardour; he defrays the entire -expense of the journey, 60,000 francs, lavished magnificently to astound -his new ally and his subjects of Asti. The Royal Dukes remain but a week -in Lombardy, and then return—recalled by rumours of Armagnac’s -disturbance. But the week was long enough. - -Footnote 23: - - Walsingham, “Historia Anglicana,” vol. ii. p. 201. - -The first step of the affair was to persuade Giangaleazzo Visconti to -give in his adherence to the Antipope Clement. The Lord of Milan was -still in name an Urbanite; but he had suffered the Antipope Clement to -arrange the marriage of his daughter and to grant the dispensation that -made it lawful; and his wife Caterina was a devoted Clementine. Visconti -gives it to be understood that he will fight for Clement if it be made -worth his while. Meanwhile the king takes fire:—honest, practical, -religious, the idea of thus forcibly putting an end to heresy and schism -greatly commends itself to him. There were three Royal visits to Avignon -that year. The Antipope suggests to Charles VI. an Imperial Crown for a -second Charlemagne.[24] Froissart hears of the royal intention, “de -mener notre Saint Père à Rome,“ and on the 23rd of February, 1391, the -King signs a quittance of 2,000 francs, “pour nous aider à abiller et -mestre est estat pour aller en la compagnie d’icelui seigneur au voyage -qu’il a intencion de faire au païs de Lombardie.” - -Footnote 24: - - Clairambault. sceaux, vol. cxiii. p. 8821. See De Circourt, _op. cit._ - -But nothing can be done without the indispensable Visconti. What is his -plan? At first he holds back, loving by nature the attitude of suspense. -But in 1392 the moment came to decide. Armagnac at that moment was -invading Italy in defence of the rights of his sister Beatrice and the -elder branch of Visconti. He suffered defeat, indeed, and death at the -hands of Milan, but not before he had inflicted so severe a check upon -his victor that Giangaleazzo no longer saw his triumph clear. Nay, -unwelcome as the ghost of Banquo at the board of Macbeth, the pale -figures of the dead Armagnac, the once laughing Beatrice, the poisoned -Bernabò, intrude themselves between him and his end. Do not such sights -as these clamour for revenge?—and Armagnac and Beatrice have a living -brother; Bernabò Visconti has left a troop of sons. Milan may yet be -snatched from his grasp. He is not safe in Lombardy, and he would fain -be King of Italy. But how to obtain that crown? Already Armagnac has -forced him to restore Padua to the Carraresi. And Florence, the -irreconcileable enemy, is grouping round her a league of hostile states. -In August, 1392, Florence, Padua, Faenza, Ravenna—a little later the -Malatestas and Forli—are united against Visconti. He is not safe in -Milan till he wear the crown of Florence too. - -Then he sends to the Pope and to the King of France and announces his -plan. How did the Lord of Milan hear of the secret Adrian project? Did -Anjou, passing through Pavia, drop a word? Did one of the many Angevines -sheltered in the house of Orleans, familiar with Asti and Milan, broach -the plan? We know not, but this was the scheme of Visconti: _Naples for -Anjou_; _Rome for the Frenchman Clement VII._; _Adria_, that is to say -the centre of Italy from Spoleto to Ferrara, and from Massa to Ancona, -_Adria for Orleans, the North for Visconti_. That is to say, Italy for -the father of Valentine and his allies.[25] As Walsingham tells us -Visconti secured for himself the double crown of Tuscany and Lombardy. -But in the very moment when the reluctant Pope (less hasty and less -egoistic now than at Sperlonga), had promised thus to alienate the -Church lands as the price of his restoration, a Divine Hand, as it must -have seemed, interposed to save the Church. On the 28th of August, 1394, -Pope and Cardinals had approved the Schedule of Orleans. A fortnight -later, on the 16th of September, suddenly, Clement VII. died at Avignon. - -Footnote 25: - - For all this question of the kingdom of Adria, too vast for this - incidental line, see the excellent paper of M. Paul Durrieu in the - “Revue des Questions Historiques” for July, 1880; also the scarce - volume of Champollion-Figeac, “Louis et Charles, Ducs d’Orléans,” - Paris, 1844; and especially the box of Manuscripts in the Paris - National Archives labelled Carton J. 495. I may also indicate an - interesting passage in Walsingham’s “Historia Anglicana,” vol. ii. p. - 201, communicated to me by Comte Albert de Circourt, “Item Dominus - Papa significat Regi per prædictum nuncio, qualiter Rex Franciæ et - Antipapa pacta inierunt hinc inde: Videlicet quod idem Rex, per - fortitudinum Ducum (Burgundiæ et Turoniæ, poni faciat Antipapem in - Sedem Petri et Antipapa promisit Regem Imperio coronare, et Duci - Burgundiæ) magnalia et investiet Ducem Turoniæ de omnibus terris - ecclesiæ in partibus Italiæ, et _quendam alium_ coronare Regem Tusciæ - et Lombardiæ, et Ducem Andexaciæ (Andegaviæ) firmare in Regno - Siciliæ.” The passage in brackets exists only in the Brit. Mus. MS. - -His successor was less able; and the scheme of Adria was abandoned. -Valentine would never reign as Queen of Adria. Yet, as Duchess of Genoa, -she would be nearer home. Then in all manner of subtle and secret ways -Orleans and Visconti immediately manœuvred to secure the Ligurian -province. Armies in the field, diplomats in the Cabinet, worked for one -end alone. In November, 1394, Savona had submitted to Orleans. Now Genoa -must be gained. The young Duke had already a strong faction in his -favour. The Lomellini, Spinole, Flischi, figure in the rolls of Orleans’ -army.[28] But, at the same time, they were intriguing with an -unsuspected enemy.[29] In August, 1395, the Doge of Genoa sent to Paris -offering to Charles himself the suzerainty of Genoa. There was in France -a strong current of popular opinion running in favour of Italian -colonization. Why should Orleans have Genoa?—asked the people. Why not -the King? Why not all of us? Why not France? The King, as we know, was -never a very solid creature. Honest, but feeble, he let himself be -dominated by the nearest influence. The Duke of Burgundy was in Paris, -and he, it is probable, persuaded Charles[26] to abandon his brother and -to accept the gift of the Doge. In October, Genoa was united to the -Crown of France. In December the King bought from Orleans his rights in -Savona and Genoa.[27] This was checkmate both to Orleans and Visconti. - -Footnote 26: - - “Arch. Nat.,” K K. 315. - -Footnote 27: - - “Arch. Nat.,” J. 497, No. 15. February, 1392, Lomellini, Flisco, and - other nobles of Genoa sign an instrument offering Genoa to the King of - France. - -Footnote 28: - - Paul Durrieu, “Le Royaume d’Adria.” See also an important passage, - “Religieux de St. Denis,” t. ii. p. 402. - -Footnote 29: - - “Arch. Nat.,” K. 54, No. 37. December 12, 1396: “Comme depuis que - nostre très-cher et très amé frère le Duc d’Orleans eut, pour les - causes et les concideracions qui le meurent, entrepriz d’avoir la - Seigneurie des cité, pays et territoire de Gennes. Et tant fait pour - venir à son entencion.... Savoir faisons que pour contenter et - deffraier nostre dit frère des trés-grans fraiz missions et despenses - par luy en plusieurs manières faiz et soustenuz ... nous avons avec - nostre dit frère traicté et accordé sur de et pour ces choses et leurs - dependances la somme de trois cents mile frans d’or pour une foiz.” - -Burgundy and the Queen were triumphant. The Queen wrote to the -Florentines that affairs were going well, that her enemy and theirs was -fallen in disgrace, and on the 29th December the King joined the -Florentines against his late ally. For there was now great irritation in -France against Visconti, who, furious at the treachery which had -outwitted his plans for Genoa, played a double game with France. Signing -with one hand a fraternal alliance with King Charles,[30] with the other -he stirred up the Genoese to rebel against his yoke. But the Genoese -suspected his counsels, and revealed the whole intrigue to the Court of -Paris. Hence fury among the nobles, an ardent desire to punish the false -friend.[31] Hence among the populace the best will in the world to -believe the Duke of Milan a wizard and his daughter a witch, an infernal -spirit bringing death and madness upon the beloved King. - -Footnote 30: - - August 31, 1395. Lünig Codex Italiæ Diplomaticus, i. col. 421. - -Footnote 31: - - “Religieux de St. Denis,” ii. p. 436, _et. seq._ - - - IX. - -Thus the machinations of Milan served to exasperate the French. And the -indignity and insult offered to Valentine were as great a cause of -irritation to Visconti. He and his daughter, with their Lombard -indifference to superstition, could have nothing but contempt for the -panic of the French. “Et l’une des plus dolentes et courroucées qui y -fust, c’estoit la Duchesse d’Orleans,“ writes Juvenal des Ursins. Twice -or thrice the Duke of Milan sent his ambassadors to the King of France, -offering to find a knight to fight at outrance with any man who would -accuse Madame Valentine of any treason. So sore and angry were the -father and the brother-in-law of Valentine that there was a talk of a -Milanese invasion. Great counter preparations were made in France, and -the League was signed with the Florentines against Milan. The King, -being in good health then, went to Boulogne to celebrate the marriage of -his daughter Isabel, a child of seven, with Richard II. of England, a -man some years older than himself. Richard was very bitter against -Milan. He offered to send an English contingent to the King’s aid, if he -invaded Lombardy. He warned the King again and again against the spells -and sorceries of Lombardy; and he produced so strong an impression upon -the enfeebled mind of Charles, that on the 29th of October, as the two -kings were sitting together at dinner, the King of France perceiving -among the heralds one with the Serpent of Milan on his shield, had him -stripped of his arms, menaced with death, and chased out of the royal -presence. The Duke of Milan retaliated with the famous Investiture of -1396, which excludes the children of Valentine of Orleans from the -succession to Milan. With things at this pitch of hostility, war seemed -imminent, and the route was made out for the invasion of Lombardy. But -that war never took place. “And that journey,” says Froissart, “took -none effect; for the discomfiture of the battle before Nicopoly in -Turkey, and the death and the taking of the Lords of France. And also -they saw well that the Duke of Milan was in favour with the Great Turk, -Lamorabaquy; wherefore they durst not displease him, so let him alone.” -It became immediately necessary to make peace with Milan,[32] the one -power in Europe that could mediate with Turkey. The ambassadors of the -King, Burgundy, Orleans, and the Sultan, caused a continual come-and-go -in Milan. Visconti took his position of peace-maker in good part. In -March, 1397, he procured a third and less hostile investiture. The talk -of magic was hushed for a while, and Valentine returned in peace to -Court. - -Footnote 32: - - “Delaville Le Roulx. La France en Orient,“ vol. i. p. 290-304. - -Yet now, perhaps, for the first time the French people, not -unjustifiably, might have heaped their odium on Valentine. For her -latest historian supports a theory suggested long ago by Froissart.[35] -While the French were projecting their invasion of Lombardy—while the -son of that Burgundy who had advised the King in the affair of Genoa was -leading against the Turks a French Crusade which might easily return -homewards _viâ_ Lombardy and Milan—Giangaleazzo, furious and humiliated, -sought any means of salvation and revenge. He, like many another -Italian, was in correspondence with the Turk; and an idea, successfully -practised by many another Italian,[34] may not unnaturally have -suggested itself to him. If France joined the Florentine League then -adieu for ever to the hopes of Visconti. And Burgundy, as he knew, was -in favour of Florence. And the son of Burgundy was captain of the French -army. Small hope here; yet, if the French army could be destroyed in -Turkey, Milan would be safe! Then the astute Visconti would smile to -think of his daughter in France. Valentine who wrote him everything—also -told him doubtless (as the author of Maistre Jehan de Meun tells us[33]) -of the vain young aristocrats, ruined by free living and fine carousing, -who were starting on that terrible journey, thinking of nothing more -serious than the elegant spectacle of their departure: - - “Mais que le partir soit joly - Vous ne regardez point la fin!” - -Gay young gallants, unfit for privation, who, when they reach Palestine, -will be too weak to strike three strokes with the magnificent swords so -much too heavy for their hands. - - “Les Sarrazins s’arment légier; - Sy c’est bon courage et fier.” - -But the panoply of these splendid youths—these _gens de paraige_—was for -decoration rather than for battle. Valentine, the confidant of her -father—who in the long afternoons of exile would turn with the expansion -of relief to her one kinsman, her staunch protector—would tell him of -the weakness that underlay the glory of this martial going-off. She -would write to him the plan of campaign, the route decided on, the means -of attack and defence. She would inform him not only of the quality but -of the number of the army. And Giangaleazzo was aware that these details -transmitted to the Turks would ensure the disaster of the French, and -draw away the gathering storm that threatened to break on Milan. - -Footnote 33: - - _Vide_ “Jean sans Peur, Duc de Bourgogne, Lieutenant et - Procureur-général du Diable cès parties d’Occident,” par M. Paul - Durrieu, Paris, 1887. - -Footnote 34: - - For example Carlo Zeno in 1403, Gattilusio in 1399, each of whom - informed the Turks concerning the plan of campaign of a Christian - enemy. - -Footnote 35: - - “L’Apparicion de Maistre Jehan de Meun.” Bib. Nat. Fr. 811, No. 7203. - This is an illuminated manuscript in defence of Valentine of Orleans, - and dedicated to her. - -The Duke of Milan was not scrupulous; he was “moult bien” in the -friendship of the Turk. The Turk gained a singular acquaintance with the -disposition of the French army. No need to dwell here on the terrible -disaster of that unforgotten battle: the twelve to twenty thousand dead; -the rare fugitives stealing homewards, dukes and barons, in the dress of -beggar-men; the harder lot of those taken by the Turks, sold into -slavery, or massacred in vengeance for the Faithful slain at Christian -hands; of the heartsick waiting of the few—a very few, of the richest -and noblest—set aside for ransom. One of these, Jacques de Heilly, was -sent by the Sultan on parole to France, to inform the King of the -disaster and to bring back the news of their intentions with respect to -ransom. He was bidden to pass by Milan[36] in order to convey to -Giangaleazzo Visconti the salutations of the Sultan. On Christmas night -he arrived in Paris; the Court were feasting and dancing. In the prison -of the Châtelet, hungry and cold, there were men who spent their -Christmas in a dungeon for having spread false news, as it was said, of -a great defeat in Turkey. But the tale of D’Heilly told, all that was -changed: the prisoners were freed, the Court was in tears. The bells -rang in all the churches for the dead. The universal thought was how to -redeem the flower of France from a savage captivity. On the 20th of -January, 1397, a French embassy was sent to Milan. A few days earlier -Jacques de Heilly, laden with propitiatory gifts, had returned to the -Sultan. Nothing was spoken of but mediation and reconciliation. And -Valentine—so long the innocent scapegoat of her party—was recalled to -favour in the very hour when all men might have suspected her as the -involuntary origin of misery. - -Footnote 36: - - “Delaville Le Roulx. La France en Orient,” Paris, 1886, vol. i. p. - 291. - - - X. - -Actual war with Milan was averted; but the rumours against the King’s -brother continued still in France. - -On the 24th of March, 1403, Ives Gilemme, a priest; Demoiselle Marie de -Blansy, Perrin Hémery, a locksmith, and Guillaume Floret, a clerk, were -publicly burned for sorcery. And still the King was mad. Were those who -bewitched _him_, the head of the State, to keep their immunity? There -_was_ such a crime as witchcraft, and people legally suffered for it. -The King was bewitched: who was the wizard? - -To this incessant question Burgundy ever helped to point the answer. Who -was the person who profited most by the sickness of the King? - -The Duke of Orleans had become very powerful. In January, 1393, an -ordonnance had promised him the Regency in case of the death of the -King.[37] His prestige, his wealth, his faction increased with every -year. This young man who, in 1385, possessed no more than 12,000 livres -a year, was Duke of Orleans (1391), Count of Valois and Count of -Beaumont (1386), Count of Asti and Count of Vertus (1387), Count of -Soissons (1391), Count of Blois (1391), Count of Dreux, Count of -Angoulême (1394). In 1394 he was very nearly King of Adria. He was Count -of Perigord in 1398. He was Seigneur of Savona (1394), Seigneur of Coucy -(1391); he possessed both lands and castles in Hainault, at Pierrefonds, -and at Ferté-Millon (1392). The Duchy of Luxembourg (1402), the Duchy of -Aquitaine (1407) lay immediately before him. - -Footnote 37: - - “Ordonnances des rois de France,” t. vii. p. 535. The Duke of Orleans - was never Regent, despite the line of the Monk of St. Denis which - assures us that in 1402 the King made his brother Lieutenant-General - of the Kingdom. During the frequent relapses of Charles VI. the - kingdom was governed by a Council. There was no Regency before the - year 1415. - -The princes of Europe appealed to the Duke of Orleans as to an -independent sovereign. The Duke of Guelders concluded a separate -alliance with him (1401). The King of the Romans offered him for his son -the heiress of Bohemia, Hungary, and Poland (1397). Henry of Lancaster, -an exile in Paris (1399), paid more court to him than to the King of -France. And in 1405 the Venetians sent two secret ambassadors to -Orleans, who in return despatched a certain Pierre de Scrovignes with -private despatches to the Signory of Venice. Since 1401 the Venetians -had never sent a message to the King. Burgundy began to fear that -Orleans would induce the new Antipope at Avignon to depose Charles VI. -in his own favour. - -There is, I think, no evidence of such an intention, and yet the -suspicions of Burgundy may not impossibly have been correct. In 1400 the -Germans deposed their drunken Wenzel, in 1398 the English had deposed -their incapable Richard. Why should not France depose a king continually -lapsing into madness? In the year 1399 the king had six relapses. -Orleans may have been no less ambitious than his sworn friend and -brother, Henry of Lancaster, who had so lately conquered for himself the -throne of England. - - * * * * * - -Orleans and Burgundy turn by turn usurped the direction of affairs. -Vainly King and Queen and Court attempted to assuage their rivalry. On -the 14th of June, 1401, the Queen of France (the King being mad), the -King of Sicily, the Dukes of Berri and Bourbon, made a League “pour -apaiser les Ducs d’Orlèans et de Bourgogne.”[38] In vain. The King -himself was powerless, and could only bid his subjects—as in 1405 he -bade the Bailly de Caux—to stand aside and take no part nor lot in the -discord existing between the Dukes of Orleans and Burgundy.[39] This -impartiality was only apparent. The growing influence of Burgundy was -dreaded by Berri and the Queen, no less than by Orleans himself. And in -the winter of 1405, these three persons joined themselves together in an -“Alliance défensive et réciproque, pour se maintenir au pouvoir.”[40] -Thus, if Burgundy had the nation on his side, the authority of the -Queen, the influence of Valentine (all-powerful with the King), was with -Orleans. In 1404 Philip of Burgundy died, and his faction gained new -vigour with the accession of his son, a man less temperate, less -aristocratic than his father. The blood of his Flemish mother worked in -the veins of the young man, restless, violent, demagogic as a burgher of -Ghent. The young Duke of Burgundy had no woman to work for him; it was -even rumoured that the portrait of his own wife hung in that locked -chamber where Orleans kept the pictures of his mistresses. But -Jean-sans-Peur did not need any feminine advocate. He was young, he was -rich. In 1404 his father’s death bequeathed him Burgundy, next year his -mother died and left him Flanders. A small ugly man, alert, blunt, -brutal even, serving public interests to reach his own ends, -Jean-sans-Peur of Burgundy was the hero of the people. “Brun et barbu et -bien aimé,“ writes Burcarius. - -Footnote 38: - - Arch. Nat. K. 55, No. 16, June 14, 1401. - -Footnote 39: - - Arch. Nat. K. 55, No. 39, Aug. 21, 1405. - -Footnote 40: - - Arch. Nat. K. 55, No. 36, Dec. 1, 1405. - -Meanwhile the people groaned under the tyranny of Orleans. _Jugum -intollerabile plebis._ And Orleans, sceptical and embittered, had no -respect and no pity for the ignorant populace that reviled him, that -menaced his virtuous wife, that mocked the death of his little child -with cruel and insulting calumnies. The people to him were odious, or, -at best, indifferent; a cup to drain, a fruit to squeeze and throw away -the rind. In 1403 he laid upon them an impost of three hundred thousand -crowns. Out of this he builded for himself two famous castles, -Pierrefonds and Ferté-Millon, beautiful as the towers of heaven in a -picture by Van Eyck. - -In 1407, not content, he levied a new tax. The money thus gained -enriched the State far less than him, and great personages accused him -and the Queen of leaving no single florin to rattle in the empty -treasury. When Orleans suggested the new impost, Jean-sans-Peur opposed -him in the royal council: “I ask pity of the poor people. It is tyranny -to aggravate their intolerable yoke.” Jean-sans-Peur declared that, in -_his_ domains at least, the impost should not be collected; rather would -he forfeit the entire amount himself. Struck by this generosity, the -young Duke of Brittany volunteered to postpone his wife’s dowry until -the treasury was full again. - -The tax was levied all the same. It was a war levy, and really -necessary. Every man and woman in France was mulcted according to the -value of his goods. In this way a vast sum was raised—twenty-seven -millions. It was lodged in a tower of the Louvre. One night, when the -town was quiet, Orleans, with a band of armed men, entered this tower -and carried off at least two-thirds of the treasure. - -When the people heard of it—the people who (the Monk assures us) had -sold the straw of their beds to pay the levy—they prayed publicly in -every town and hamlet: “Jesus Christ in heaven, send thou some one to -deliver us from Orleans!” - -Orleans smiled no less bitterly than when he had heard the public -whisper accuse him of sorcery and devil-worship. He proclaimed that -whosoever did not pay the taxes should be cast into prison; to prevent -assassination, no man was to carry another knife than he used for his -eating; a fourth of the provisions of the royal household was to be -supplied daily, without payment, by the people of Paris. These -provisions, as the people knew very well, did not go to feed or clothe -their beloved King. He, in his palace, was as poor, as suffering as -themselves. The Dauphin was no richer: “in penury and want,” says the -Monk, “if such words may be used for so great a personage.” The -insatiable Orleans, the avid little Queen, grasped and kept everything. -“Jesus Christ in heaven,” prayed the people, “send some one to deliver -us from the Duke of Orleans.” - -Orleans should have listened. The air was full of warnings to tyrants. -Richard and Wenzel had fallen miserably. The Duke of Milan had died of -the plague; in six months his vast kingdom had fallen into ruins. -Tyranny is, so often, a personal accident—a possession, not an -inheritance. Was it worth while? The King himself added to the list of -these monitions. In August, 1404, he married his eldest son to -Burgundy’s daughter, his daughter to the son of Burgundy. - -In the year 1405, on Ascension Day, the people found a voice. An -Augustine monk, Jacques Legrand, preached then before the Court. The -Queen, Valentine, and Orleans were present, but not the King. “O Queen! -O Duke!” said the monk, “you are the curse and derision of your people. -Do you not believe me? Go into the streets and hear them! - -“_Tua curia, Domina Venus solium occupans_, thy court, O Queen! where -Lady Venus fills the throne, thy Court, by day and night, is the scene -of debauch and drunkenness. Dissolute dances do honour to the goddess. -Frequent bathing enervates your bodies. Fringes to your sleeves, and -long sleeves to your garments; yet are ye clothed upon with the sighs -and tears of the poorest of your people. Your hearts are corrupt and -your minds are all unmoved: _Domina Venus solium occupat_.” - -There was a flutter of indignation in the Court. The monk’s sermon was -reported to the King, but to the surprise of all, Charles answered that -he was glad of it. On Whit-Sunday Legrand was commanded to preach again, -and in the royal presence. The monk repeated his sermon, but with larger -reference to a certain noble duke, “once good and dear, but hated now -for his oppression and his vice.” The King left his chair and sat down -face to face with the monk, listening earnestly, who can tell with what -cruel suspicions, what resolutions for inquiry and reform, in his dim -and altered mind. When the sermon was over, the King spoke to Legrand -for some moments. He thanked him earnestly. - -Charles was deeply impressed with the words of the Augustine friar. -Struggling against continual relapses, he made a brave effort to do the -best he could for his disordered kingdom. When Orleans asked for the -government of Normandy, for the first time he was refused. Another day -the poor King called the Dauphin to him. “How long, my lad, is it since -your mother kissed you?” - -“Three months,” the boy replied. - -The King was much affected. His children were evidently pinched, -neglected, uncared for. He called the boy’s nurse to him, and gave her a -gold cup. “Look after my son when I am ill. If God grant me life I will -reward you later.” - -This was in July, 1405. Burgundy was absent on his own estates. The King -wrote to him and implored him to return to Paris. - -Orleans and the Queen were at St. Germains. They paid no heed to any -warning. On the 13th of July there was a fearful storm; torrents of -rain, eddies of wind. The Queen and Orleans were riding in the forest -when they were overtaken by the tempest. The Duke took refuge in the -Queen’s litter, but the frightened horses nearly drowned them in the -Seine. The people declared that it was the judgment of heaven upon -tyrants, and Orleans himself appeared impressed. He sent a herald to -Paris, and proclaimed that whosoever of his creditors should come on -Sunday next to the Hôtel de Behaigne should have his debt discharged in -full. On Sunday the halls and anterooms of the ducal palace were crowded -with eager burghers. Many, tired and anxious, had travelled from the -provinces. The Duke’s stewards laughed in their face and shut the doors. -This was the final touch to the exasperation of the people. - -All this while Jean-sans-Peur was travelling to Paris. He came at the -head of six thousand men-at-arms. The King was mad again, and could not -support him; but none the less the Queen and Orleans feared an -insurrection in Burgundy’s favour. They decided to flee secretly away -into Luxembourg with the royal children. Valentine was with them; and -they had got as far as Pouilly when the troops of Burgundy suddenly -surrounded the litter of the Dauphin, some hours’ journey to the rear. -The boy was delighted; he embraced his father-in-law, and was carried in -triumph back to Paris. Isabel, with Valentine and Orleans, fled to the -Castle of Melun. Civil war seemed eminent; but when the two armies were -actually in the field, peace was arranged, and on the 15th of October -the Queen and Orleans re-entered Paris. - -Orleans had learned nothing by his lesson. He was more than ever -arrogant, more than ever secure in his tyranny. Early in the next year -his young son Charles was married to the King’s daughter Isabel, the -widowed Queen of England, a girl of sixteen. In the first months of 1407 -the King gave his brother the rich duchy of Aquitaine. Orleans began to -think again of the governorship of Normandy. He was richer and stronger -than the King. - -And yet, if Valentine, if Orleans, had really read the future as the -people thought they did, or had they even cared to read the present, -they might well have paused. In that age the fate of tyrants was not -prosperous. The King of England was a leper. The King of France was mad. -The little Duke of Milan was mad also, with a furious Italian hemomania. -The King of Scotland was a prisoner in the hands of his enemies. There -were two Popes, things for scorn and laughter, held in derision of all -nations, and a song to the people all day long. - -Already, in 1380, Miles de Dormans, Chancellor of France, had declared -“A government has no force save in the obedience of the people, for -kings only rule by the suffrage of their subjects: _Nam et si centies -negent, reges regnant suffragio populorum_.” - -The judgment of heaven, the liberties of man, seemed to conspire alike -against the rule of tyrants. - - - XI. - -Notwithstanding his deceptions in the affair of Genoa, and in spite of -his supremacy in France, Orleans still cherished designs on Lombardy; -and perhaps the chief cause why his Italian enterprises are less -noticeable in the fifteenth than in the seventeenth century is due, not -so much to his engrossment with affairs at home, as to the fact that in -Benedict XIII. he found an ally infinitely less subtle and less -brilliant than he had known in Clement VII. Benedict was little more -than a captive in the hands of Orleans;[41] Clement had been an -accomplice. - -Footnote 41: - - “Arch. Nat.” Carton K. 55, No. 10: “Lettres par les-quelles le Roi - commect la garde du Pape Bénoist 13 au Duc d’Orléans, au-quel il donne - cent hommes de sa garde. No 14 bis: Lettres du Roy Charles VI. - déclaratrices que loin de tenir le Pape Bénoist XIII. prisonnier, il - l’a pris sur sa sauve garde et que pour plus grande sûreté de sa - personne et de ses biens il a établi son frère le Duc d’Orléans pour - en avoir garde.” - -A greater than Clement failed him a little later. In the autumn of 1402, -in the very flush and zenith of victory, Giangaleazzo Visconti died. A -score of his captains soon were fighting for his kingdom. That vast -territory, whose coherence existed only in the brain of one man, fell -rapidly into fragments: city after city threw off the unwilling yoke of -union, and what had almost begun to be a national Italy reverted in a -few weeks to the old conditions of fragmentary independence. His two -sons ruled in a narrowed Lombardy, and with no vista, as it seemed, on -the ambitions of their father. In the very same year that the great -Visconti died, Charles VI. sent to Genoa a small, restless, quixotic man -of much ability, who to some extent filled the empty place of the dead -Giangaleazzo. But if Marshal Boucicaut had much of the ambition, and all -the audacity of the late Duke of Milan, he possessed nothing of his slow -wise mind, of the deep and subtle duplicity that Machiavelli may have -envied, or of the powers of combination, the cool tenacity to a grand -idea, which foreshadowed the genius of another North Italian, Count -Cavour. Moreover, while such share as Visconti meant to allow the French -in Italy was destined by him for his son-in-law of Orleans, Boucicaut -worked for the King. Thus, for the second time in his experience, the -Frenchman found his greatest rival in France. - -Of the two legitimate sons of the great Duke of Milan—one was a handsome -young Nero, blood-mad, inept, given over to passion and cruelty; the -other an astute child, timid, unscrupulous, who later should develop a -trace of the genius of his father. At first their hold on their -inheritance was so slight that Orleans determined on invading Lombardy, -whether to defend or to supplant his nephews, who shall say? In October, -1403, he started for Lombardy, accompanied by 13 knights-banneret, 43 -knights, 212 squires, 28 archers, 20 crossbow-men, and other -soldiers.[43] On the way south he passed by Beaucaire, and had an -interview with his charge, the Antipope Benedict. He took into his -service the famous captain of adventure, Bernardon de Serres. He made -friends with another mighty captain—an ancient enemy—the Count of -Armagnac.[42] Vast and serious appeared his project of invasion, but, on -the very verge of the Alps, suddenly, on January, 1404, he abandoned the -prosperous enterprise, turned right about, and faced home for Paris. - -Footnote 42: - - Communicated by Comte Albert de Circourt from transcripts in his - possession. - -Footnote 43: - - See M. Paul Durrieu, “Les Gascons en Italie,” p. 214. - -What is the meaning of this sudden change of course, unexplained, and -perhaps inexplicable? What was the object of the Lombard invasion? What -was the cause which so unexpectedly suppressed it? Orleans believed -himself to have a certain claim on Pisa, bequeathed by the great -Visconti to his bastard son Gabriello-Maria. Gabriello Visconti was ill -at ease in Pisa. A little later, in 1404, as we know, he offered his -unruly city first to France, then to Florence. It is possible—it is even -from the nature of things a necessary hypothesis—to suppose that in 1403 -Gabriello had come to terms with Orleans, and that the rights on Pisa -which Orleans vaunted as his own through Valentine Visconti were -supported by some cession of the actual lord, her half-brother. But -Orleans was not the only Frenchman capable of adventure and practice in -Italy. By the time his army reached the frontier he found himself -outwitted by a higher bidder, nearer at hand. - -Jehan le Meingre, Marshal Boucicaut, Governor of Genoa, had intrigued -with Gabriello and procured the city of Pisa for the King. A few months -later, on the 15th of April, 1404,[44] a deed was drawn up declaring -Pisa henceforth a fief of France. - -Footnote 44: - - Dumont, Corps Diplomatique. II. ccxvii. and ccxxxi. - -At the first word of the matter Orleans had turned his back on his -contemplated campaign and marched back to Paris, fury in his heart. -Probably behind the interference of Boucicaut he divined the inspiration -of Burgundy, his enemy;—Burgundy who, as events should prove, had -unsuspected designs of his own upon the State of Pisa. Back in wrath -marched Orleans: stalked indignant into Paris his men at his heels: -found the King in his senses, and docile as was his wont. From him, on -the 24th of May, Orleans extracted the deed which we append,[45] a deed -that repudiates the action of Boucicaut, and transfers all the rights of -France in Pisa to Orleans, who henceforth shall meet with neither let -nor hindrance in his projects. - -Footnote 45: - - Avd Nat. K. 55, No. 11, bis July 26, 1404. À tous ceulx qui ces - présentes lettres verront, Guilles, Seigneur de Tignonville, - chevalier, conseiller, chamberlain du Roy nostre seigneur et garde de - la prévosté de Paris, Salut! Savoir faisons que nous l’an de grace - 1404, ce Mercredi 26 jour du mois de Juillet, vismes une lettre du Roy - nostre seigneur scellée de son grant scel sur double couronne, des - quelles la teneur s’ensuit: - - Charles par la grace de Dieu Roy de France, à tous ceulx qui ces - lettres verront, Salut! Savoir faisons que après la supplication et - requeste à nous faictes par nostre très-cher et très-amé frère Loys - Duc d’Orléans, contenant que comme à cause de nostre très chère et - très amée soeur, sa femme, fille du feu nostre oncle le Duc de Milan, - plusieurs villes terres et seigneuries situées es parties d’Italie et - de Lombardie, entre lesquelles est et doit estre la ville et cité de - Pise avec toutes ses appartenances, la seigneurie de laquelle nostre - dit frère dit estre et appartenir au dit feu Duc de Milan auparavant - qu’il alla de vie à tres-passement appartiennent et doivent appartenir - à iceluy nostre très-cher frère. Il nous a exposé et il ait entendu de - nouvel que la dicte ville et cité de Pise et aucuns chasteaulx - appartenant d’icelle, par certains moyens sont à nous acquis et venues - en nostre main. Et ont été bailliz pour nous par nostre très-féal - Chevalier Chambellan et conseiller Jehan le Meingre dit Boucicaut, - Maréschal de France, et Gouverneur pour nous de nostre cité et - seigneurie de Jennes, pour quoy il nous a requis en tout le droit que - nous avons et pouvons avoir de la dicte ville et cité de Pise et ès - aultres cités et appartenances qui furent au dit Seigneur de Milan, - nous veuillons bailler et délaisser. Et tout empeschement mis de par - nous en la dicte ville et cité de Pise et ès dictes chateaulx et - aultres appartenances d’icelles, veuillons faire oster et cesser, sans - y plus procéder, ny faire procéder, en sa préjudice. Nous voulons - toujours condescendre au justes requestes de nostre-dit frère, comme - raison est. Qui avons baillie et délaissié de une certaine science par - ces présentes tout le droit et seigneurie par nous acquis de nouvel et - que nous avons et pouvons avoir en dicte ville et cité de Pise et ès - aultres chasteaulx et appartenances d’iceulx. Et voulons et ordonnons - par ces présentes que l’empeschement mis par et en nostre nom en la - dicte ville, cité et Seigneurie de Pise et ès chateaulx et aultres - appartenances d’icelles, soit osté. Si donnons en mandement par ces - présentes et envoyons très-expressement au dit gouverneur de nostre - dicte cité de Jeunes et à tous nos aultres justiciers et conseillers - ou à leurs lieutenants et à chaseur d’eulx, si que di luy appendra, - que de nostre bailli et délaissements dessus ditz faient, sueffrent et - laissent jouer et user paisiblement nostre diet frère. En mectant au - délivrement de luy ou à ses ditz gens officiers commis et députés de - par lui tous les ditz droit et seigneurie par nous acquis de nouvel ès - ditz ville cité et chasteaul dessus ditz. Et en ostant tout - l’empeschement qui en iceulx a esté mis de nostre part. En tesmoing de - ce nous avons fait mettre à ces lettres nostre scel. Donné a Paris le - 24 jour de May l’an de grace mil quatre ans et quatre et le 24 de - nostre règne. Aussi signées par le Roy en son rayson. Messigneurs les - Ducs de Berry et de Bourbon, le Connestable, le Comte de Tancarville, - le grand maistre d’ostel et aultres. - - Et nous a ce présent transcript in tesmoing de ce que usismes le scel - de la dicte prévosté de Paris l’an et jour dessus promis et dietz. - Manessier. - -The deed was granted in Council, the King being then in his senses, and -assisted by Berri, Bourbon, Tancarville, and others. The reader will -remark the noteworthy absence of Burgundy. He will remember also that -Berry, in 1405, will join Orleans in a defensive league against -Jean-sans-Peur. It is possible that Burgundy knew nothing of the deed -drawn up behind his back. - -But it was too late for Orleans to profit by the King’s good-will. The -Florentines were in Pisa, and an invasion against so powerful an enemy -could not be undertaken. - -For a moment Orleans was obliged to pause in his Italian policy—to pause -only, not to abandon it, since in 1406[48] he still reclaimed authority -on Pisa, and in the very year of his death was taking an active part in -the affairs of Lombardy.[47] That pause was filled in a manner -disastrous, fatal, yet natural enough in a man suffocating under a sense -of bitter indignation and revolt. Burgundy had interfered with Orleans -abroad. Very well; Orleans would interfere with Burgundy at home. -Already the first steps were taken. In 1401, Orleans had married his -cousin Mary Harcourt to the Duke of Gueldres, the enemy and the -neighbour of Burgundy, with whom his rival now concluded an alliance and -a league. In 1402, Orleans purchased from the King of the Romans the -Duchy of Luxembourg. In 1405,[46] he assembled at Melun the entire -strength of his faction, sending even to Asti for the Governor and his -men. In 1405 also he allied himself with Berri and the Queen against -Jean-sans-Peur. With the Court on one hand, and on the other Gueldres, -the most reckless captain of his age;—with an army at his heels, and -(through the county of Soissons, and down the banks of the Oise and the -Marne), an uninterrupted passage through his own possessions into his -new Duchy of Luxembourg: Orleans was a deadly enemy to Burgundy. A -glance at the map will show the reader how, like a wedge or like a -rivet, Luxembourg must split apart or hold together the domains of the -Netherlands and the provinces of Franche Comté and Burgundy. In the -hands of Orleans, Luxembourg was a wedge; and the domains of Burgundy -were no longer a compact and formidable territory, but two -principalities with Brussels for the capital of the one, and Dijon for -the capital of the other. Should Orleans march an army into Luxembourg, -should Gueldres come to his aid with an armed force, the suppression of -the Dukedom of Burgundy would fall within the range of practical -politics. - -Footnote 46: - - A strange document in the Carton K. 55 Arch. Nat., under date July 27, - 1406, in the form of a letter from the King in Council (Tancarville - “et autres” being present), notifies that that day the King has - received conjointly the Dukes of Burgundy and Orleans, who have made - him their united homage for Pisa. In 1407 the Signory of Florence, - having taken Pisa (a French fief), sent to the King, Orleans, and - Burgundy to justify their conduct. Orleans seized the Florentine - ambassadors and cast them into prison—a high-handed proceeding which - he probably considered warranted by his position as suzerain of the - captive city. In so doing Orleans probably meant to underline the fact - that _he_, not the King or Burgundy, was lord of Pisa, though all had - claims to suzerainty. There is a long correspondence on this subject - (Archives of Florence, filza xviii. della Signoria. Cancelleria 27). - -Footnote 47: - - It is in 1407 that the Italian projects of Orleans appear in vigorous - renascence. On the 6th of October he proclaimed himself Protector of - his nephews, Giovanni Maria, Duke of Milan, and Filippo Maria, Count - of Pavia, “frères de Dame Valentine épouse du Duc” (Arch. Nat. K. 56, - No. 16). He made the Governor of Asti their guardian, and appeared to - meditate an armed intervention. Was this conduct purely and merely - disinterested? Did Orleans in October at Beauté-sur-Marne contemplate - a great French protectorate in Lombardy of which he should be the soul - and centre? A month later a tragic silence suddenly interrupted any - answer to these questions. - -Footnote 48: - - See “Arch. Nat.” K K. 267 fo. 97. Also the chapter on Bernardon de - Serres in M. Paul Durrieu’s valuable work, “Les Gascons en Italie.” - -Henceforth, between these two princes the struggle for power should take -on a new character and become the very struggle for existence. And while -the people, abject, all in tears, prayed to Heaven: “Jesu Christ, send -thou some man to deliver us from Orleans,” the hero of the people, -Jean-sans-Peur the Belovèd, was urged by every motive of self-interest, -every instinct of self-preservation, and with the assurance of popular -immunity, to interrupt for ever the fatal progress of the tyrant. - - - XII. - -One Wednesday evening—it was St. Clement’s day, the 23rd of November, -1407—Orleans was supping with the Queen. Isabel was ill and dispirited. -Ten days ago her new-born baby had died at its birth, and she sorrowed -for this child and loved it as she had never loved her other children. -Isabel was away from her husband in her new Hôtel de Montaigu, near the -Porte Barbette. It was here that Orleans came every day to see her, and -here they “supped right joyously together,” says the Monk of St. Denis. -Orleans had been ill all autumn at his Castle of Beauté, and had only -recently come back to Paris. Valentine, with her four children and the -Princess Isabel, was still in the country. - -As these two persons, both ill, both weary, forgot their troubles for a -while in each other’s company, a page came to the door with a feigned -message: the King earnestly beseeched his brother to come and see him at -the palace of St. Paul. Orleans arose at once and left the Queen. He had -at least six hundred men of his own lodged that day in Paris, as -Monstrelet informs us. Orleans, however, took none of them with him. He -leapt on his mule and rode away with two squires on horseback at his -side. Two or three footmen with torches ran after him. No gentleman -could go more simply than the King’s brother in his plain suit of black -damask, riding with no more than five attendants, quickly and gaily down -the frosty street. It was the coldest winter ever known, and muffled in -their cloaks the little party rode briskly ahead, looking neither to the -right or left. Orleans was singing softly to himself and playing with -one of his gloves. He feared no enemies. Last Sunday he had taken the -Sacrament with Burgundy, and yesterday they two had dined together. - -It was eight o’clock. All was dark and silent in the Rue Vieille du -Temple, then an outlying and quiet district. Orleans and his two squires -rode along so fast that the runners with the torches were left some way -behind. At last they came to a wider place in the street where there was -a well. As the three horsemen passed the Hôtel de l’Image de Notre-Dame, -seventeen or eighteen men sprang suddenly out of the shadow of the -house. One with an axe chopped off the bridle hand of Orleans. The -King’s brother gave a cry of surprise and pain. “I am the Duke of -Orleans!” “It is he we seek.” - -In another moment the Duke was beaten off his mule on to the frozen -paving-stones. Seventeen axes were aimed at him; blow after blow fell -heavily; his head was cloven, his brains gushed out into the street. His -servants had all fled and left him there, save one of his squires who -had been his page (a German, says Monstrelet; a Fleming, says the Monk), -who, more constant than Orleans’ compatriots, flung himself upon the -body of his master, and was pierced and slaughtered there. When both -were murdered the assassins dragged the body of Orleans across the -street, propped it up against a heap of mud that was standing frozen -there, and lighting a torch of straw, they looked to see if he were -really dead. A woman, a cobbler’s wife, looking from a garret window, -saw it all, and set up a shriek of “Murder, murder!” “Peace, harlot,” -cried the armed men in the street, and began to shoot their arrows at -the open casement. At that moment a man with a scarlet hood drawn well -over his face, came out of the house opposite, and struck the dead body -with his club. “Put out the light. He’s dead. Let us go.” The eighteen -assassins rode away in great merriment, sowing caltrops after them; but -before they left they set fire to the house where, for the last -fortnight, Jean-sans-Peur had kept them hidden. The flames of the -burning Hôtel de l’Image streamed up through the darkness of the night, -awakening the city, and shedding a strange light on the murdered body of -Orleans, still propped up in a sitting posture, his wounded head hanging -on one side. Just then a nephew of Maréchal de Rieulx, whose great Hôtel -stood opposite, a young man, one of Orleans’ squires, rode up as he left -his uncle’s house, and saw his master sitting thus dead, the left hand -off, the right arm hanging by a thread. A little distance off, on the -stones of the street, lay the page, dying in his faithful youth, -murmuring still in his German language, “Ach, my master!” At his side, -on the ground, was a white hand severed from the wrist. Close by there -lay a fallen glove. The young squire gave the alarm and the dead bodies -were carried into the Hôtel de Rieulx. - -There was wailing and mourning in the house of Orleans, grief and horror -in the house of the King. The deed was soon known, though as yet it was -only surmised that one Raoul d’Actonville, a dismissed steward, had -wreaked in this ghastly fashion his spite against his master. The next -day the royal princes, all in black, with a great multitude of the -people of Paris, brought the murdered Duke to the church of St. -Guillaume, close at hand. He who had ever loved the good through all his -wickedness, lay now among the watching friars, who sang psalms and -repeated vigils day and night for his soul; there he lay until they took -him to be buried in his own chapel of the Celestines, which is called -the Blancs-Manteaux to-day. The people followed him with torches, -remembering only his gay and gracious qualities, his capricious -generosity, his gentle raillery, his rhetoric and eloquence, how he had -loved learning, and that he had often lived as a monk for days among the -Celestines. All Paris wept, those also who had prayed Jesus Christ in -heaven to deliver them from Orleans; even Burgundy went in the funeral -procession, all in black, weeping also. But when the funeral was over -Jean-sans-Peur took Berri and the King of Sicily aside: “I had it done. -I slew him. It was an inspiration of the demon’s.” - - - XIII. - -There were two women, who were not at the burial, to whom the death of -Orleans came nearer than to any mourner there. When Isabel heard that -Orleans was slain she went in terror of her life. Ill as she was, she -had herself carried in a litter to St. Paul’s, taking shelter there in -the arms of her mad husband, and so soon as she was fit for travel the -poor, light, beautiful, little Queen went out of Paris, far away from -Burgundy, far, too, from that maimed and slaughtered body lying in the -chapel of the Celestines. Terrified, indifferent, she could think of -nothing but her own imaginary danger. - -The mistress and the wife took the matter in a very different spirit. At -first, in her transports of sorrow, Valentine could not act. She tore -out her hair and shred her garments; she sobbed so much, that for weeks -afterwards her voice was hoarse. But when the first paroxysm was over -her strong Italian character centred itself upon one fixed idea—justice, -vengeance for her murdered husband. Valentine had no thought of her own -safety. She sent her two elder sons and her girl into Blois, and then, -with the Princess Isabel and little John, her youngest child, on either -hand, the Duchess of Orleans set out from Château-Thierry for Paris. - -Travelling was slow that terrible winter. It was not till the 10th of -December that Valentine entered the capital. She, her children, her -servants, were all dressed very plainly and roughly, and, of course, in -black. The King of Sicily and the Duke of Berri came out to meet them. -When they reached the palace Valentine threw herself upon her knees -before the King, demanding justice. The poor Charles (_azzez subtil pour -lors_) raised her up and kissed her, while they both wept together. He -promised strict justice upon Burgundy. Again, ten days later, he -declared, “What is done to my only brother is done to me.” Valentine and -her children, satisfied of vengeance, retired to their great hotel in -the Marais. - -The King fell ill again so soon as Valentine had left him. “They say,... -but I affirm nothing,” suggests the Monk. Valentine the witch stayed on, -however, among the people who had murdered her husband. One thing that -we learn of Valentine at this moment shows us how profound, how selfless -was her love of Orleans. She sought out his bastard—the little John, -afterwards Count of Dunois, the son of Mariette de Canny—and brought him -up with her own children. It even seemed as though she loved him more -than the others. Glancing from the poetic Charles, the delicate Philip, -the child John, to his determined and eager little face, she exclaimed, -“None of your brothers is more fit than you to avenge your father. -Nature has cheated me of you!” - -To avenge your father! This had become the unique preoccupation of -Valentine. But that promised vengeance tarried long. On the 8th of March -a learned doctor of theology, the chosen advocate of Burgundy, a certain -Maître Jean Petit, excused the murder of Orleans before the King. “_Il -est licite d’occire un Tyran._” - -It was not only of tyranny that the Burgundians accused their victim. -The tremendous accusation of Jean Petit (which every student of the past -has read in Monstrelet) enumerates attempted regicide, and secret -poisoning, sorcery, necromancy, charms, incantations. “Sorcery, high -treason against God, and regicide, high treason against the King. There -is also tyranny,” says Maître Jean Petit. It was of course for this -third cause, treason against the people, that Orleans’ murder was -condoned in Paris. - -For the people never hid their support of Jean-sans-Peur. Those who had -wept at the funeral of Orleans were ready now to cry again the cry of -Burgundy. The King, whose mind was again overcast, although he was not -actually mad, the King himself on the 9th of April, 1408, signed letters -patent granting pardon to Jean-sans-Peur. “Our very dear and -well-beloved cousin of Burgundy, _who for the public good and out of -faith and loyalty to us, has caused to be put out of this world our said -brother of Orleans_.” This was the last insult to his memory. Valentine -would not brook it; she rallied to the charge. Though she herself had -been seriously implicated in the tissue of villainy which his murderers -had woven about the memory of her husband, Valentine had no thoughts to -spare for her own safety. All through July and August she kept agitating -against Burgundy. Bringing her children with her she sought the King and -cried on her knees for justice. Twenty years’ exile for Burgundy! Her -two advocates, Sérisi and Cousinet pleaded eloquently for her; refuting -the vile accusations of poison and sorcery with a candour, a logic, a -fine and modern spirit worthy of the intellect of the dead man they -defended. It was all no use. “The Parisians,” says Monstrelet, “loved so -well this Duke of Burgundy; because they believed that if he undertook -the government, he would put down throughout the kingdom all salt taxes, -imposts, dues, and subsidies which were to the prejudice of the people.” -Though nearly all the royal Princes were openly on the side of -Valentine, the King did not _dare_ avenge his brother. The Court was -impotent against the people. - -In the early autumn Valentine left Paris. Life was over for her. “Rien -ne m’est plus. Plus ne m’est rien,” ran her melancholy motto. Anger and -bereavement and hopeless sorrow had worn her to a shadow. She took the -little Dunois with her children to the Castle of Blois. There were four -of them, Charles, the Poet, who should be the father of King Louis XII.; -and little John, the grandfather of Francis I.; Philip, Count of Vertus; -and Margaret, in later years the grandmother of Anne of Brittany. These -children, three of whom should be the grandparents or great-grandparents -of Henri II., Valentine ceaselessly instructed. All her contemporaries -bear witness to her untiring vigilance over them. “They are marvellously -good, and well-instructed for their years,” says Monstrelet: “Moult -notablement conduits et indoctrinés.” But there was one lesson, dearer -than the others, that Valentine perpetually taught her sons. “Avenge -your father,” she continually cried. - -These children, so different in character and destiny, were the dearer -to their mother that she felt she had not long to love them. Valentine -was dying of a broken heart, “of anger and mourning,” writes Juvenal; -“of anger and impotent vengeance,” says Monstrelet. Her eyes were quite -dim with useless tears, and still she resented the very grief that -drained her life; for she did not want to leave her little children and -her unaccomplished task. “It was pitiful,” says Juvenal, “before she -died to hearken to her regrets and her complaints, so piteously she -regretted her children, and a bastard, called John, whom she could not -suffer out of her sight, saying none of her children was fitter to -avenge their father.”... “Since the tragic end of her husband,” says the -Monk, “this Duchess spent her days in tears, and many say the bitterness -of her heart induced that unhealthy languor of which she died.” - -This was in November. Upon St. Clement’s day, upon that heart-sickening -anniversary of her husband’s murder, Jean-sans-Peur rode into Paris. It -was a triumph. As he passed the people, and their little children cried, -“Noel, noel au bon Duc.” - -It was near a week before the news came down to Blois. When she heard -it, Valentine felt that all was over. No vengeance was possible. On the -4th of December the unhappy woman died, with her last breath entreating -her little children never to forget their father’s murder. But these -children were only children, and they were orphans. The death of -Valentine seemed to secure the triumph of her enemy. Jean-sans-Peur did -not seek to hide his rejoicing: “Car icelle Duchesse continuoit moult -asprement et diligemment sa poursuitte.“ But already Retribution at her -grindstone was sharpening the fatal battle-axe of Montereau. - - - - - THE CLAIM OF THE HOUSE OF ORLEANS - TO MILAN. - - -Let us recapitulate. - -When, on September 16, 1380, Charles V. of France expired, he left -behind him two young sons. One was twelve years old, tall, stalwart, -healthy, amiable; the other was a lad of nine, less regularly handsome -than his brother, slighter, darker, more agile, more acute, and more -engaging. - -Charles V. had left his younger son no more than the pension of a -private gentleman; the elder was the king of France. The dying monarch, -a man of many brothers, had seen the dangers that arise when royal -princes are too rich. But he had died before his time; and of his two -heirs the king was gentle, dull, and generous; the gentleman, brilliant, -grasping, and ambitious. The result was calculable. Twenty years later -the younger son was king in all but name; he was rich, puissant, -terrible, and hated; while his brother, impoverished and neglected, -starved on the throne, the best-beloved man in France. Circumstances had -made the rise of the younger son singularly easy. In his twenty-fourth -year King Charles VI. became violently mad, and henceforward till his -death there were long regencies (the subject of angry contests between -his uncle and his brother) interrupted by periods of lax and kindly -government. His younger brother, Louis, Duke of Orleans, became, as -first prince of the blood, more powerful than the king. He was too -powerful; and his arrogance and his extortions raised many enemies -against him. On November 23, 1407, he was cruelly murdered as he was -riding by night through the streets of Paris. He had made himself so -terrible that even the brother who loved him did not seek to avenge him, -but praised the murderer “who, for the public good and out of faith and -loyalty to us, has caused to be put out of this world our said brother -of Orleans.” No one mourned the murdered man absolutely and completely -except his devoted widow and his orphaned children. - -A year and a week later the duchess died. Her three sons, her one -daughter, with Dunois, the natural son of Orleans, whom his widow had -adopted, were left fatherless and motherless in a kingdom full of -enemies, where their father’s murderers triumphed. They entered the -world as a battlefield; but, though so young, they entered armed and -mounted. From their father they inherited the duchies of Orleans, -Luxembourg, and Aquitaine, the counties of Valois, Beaumont, Soissons, -Blois, Dreux, Périgord, and Angoulême, with the seigneuries of Coucy and -Savona. Through their mother they acquired the county of Vertus in -Champagne, the county of Asti in Lombardy, and certain pretensions to -the ducal crown of Milan. - - - I. - -In the year 1387 their father, Louis of France, not yet the Duke of -Orleans, had been contracted to the Duke of Milan’s only daughter, -Valentine Visconti, whom two years later he espoused. In relation to the -established monarchs of his time, the father of Valentine stood in much -the same situation as afterwards the great Napoleon, in the first years -of his empire, towards the kings of Germany. He was rich, too powerful -to be safely opposed, a conqueror of whom the end was still beyond -prediction; hence a man to conciliate and appease. Yet in their hearts -they despised him as a parvenu and an adventurer, and deplored and -deprecated the moral flaws that marred the beauty of his prosperity. - -Giangaleazzo, first Duke of Milan, was the only son of Galeazzo -Visconti, who, in conjunction with Bernabò, his brother, swayed the city -of Milan and the greater part of Lombardy. They had murdered their own -brother, and divided his inheritance between them—Bernabò, the elder, -holding his state in Milan, Galeazzo in the city of Pavia. - -Bernabò had no less than nine-and-twenty children. Galeazzo had but two, -but for these he was ambitious. He married his daughter to the son of -the King of England; his son he married to the daughter of the King of -France. This was in 1360. The bride and bridegroom were still of -childish age. Six years later their eldest child was born. It was a -girl, Valentine. The three brothers who followed her died in their -minority; but Valentine flourished, grew to womanhood, and brought into -the house of Orleans the tangled question of the Milanese succession. - -At her birth and during her childhood her father was but one of several -rulers in Milan. The Visconti ruled as a clan rather than as an -organized dynasty. They were the descendants of a certain Captain -Eriprando, who, in the year 1037, defended Milan against the Emperor -Conrad. Notwithstanding this beginning the Visconti were eminently -Ghibelline, and depended for all their subsequent fortunes on the -emperor. In 1277 they chased the Guelfs from Milan, and made themselves -masters of the state. They became lords or _domini_ in Milan, lords of -an imperial fief, but with no pretence to an imperial investiture. The -emperor recognized them only as his captains, his viscounts, or his -imperial vicars. - -In 1372 the Emperor Charles IV., alarmed at the pretensions of the -Visconti clan, deprived them of their office. The rich tyrants, not -afraid of a distant emperor beyond the Alps, paid little heed to this -punishment. The emperor died, and his son succeeded—the dissolute -Wenzel, who was to do so much for Milan. Almost his first act was to -create the youthful father of Valentine Imperial Vicar of the Milanese. - -This taste of power whetted the ambition of the young man, left -fatherless now to confront the faction of his uncle Bernabò and his -numerous children. Lax and irregular forms of government favour a -violent ambition. By one bold stratagem Giangaleazzo took his uncle -prisoner, dispossessed his cousins, and established himself as lord of -Milan. - -Milan was not enough. Fire and sword cleared the way before him, and his -territory stretched to the Apennine ridges. Florence, on the other side, -trembled for her independence. The Lombard kingdom was alive again, and, -though the Pope refused the indomitable conqueror the title of King of -Italy, in 1395 the Emperor Wenzel invested him with the duchy of Milan. - -Meanwhile, in 1389, Valentine Visconti had gone to her husband in -France. When she left Milan she was no longer her father’s only child. A -few months before, her stepmother, Caterina Visconti, had given birth to -a son. A little later a second son was born. The greatest conqueror of -his age could now divide his possessions between two sons born in -wedlock, a bastard boy named Gabriello, and his only daughter Valentine, -the child of his first wife, the Princess Isabelle of France. The first -question that confronts us is this: What provision did Giangaleazzo -Visconti make for his daughter Valentine of Orleans? - -For many centuries there has been much debate concerning the claim of -Orleans to Milan. Much argument and little evidence has confused the -question; it is only the evidence that we shall examine here. In the -National Archives of Paris[50] there exists the original -marriage-contract of Valentine Visconti. A copy of this document is -contained in a brown leather folio, stamped with the Visconti serpent, -existing in the British Museum.[49] It is an instrument granted by the -Antipope, Clement of Avignon, on January 27, 1387, in favour of Louis of -Orleans and Bertrand de Guasche, Governor of Vertus, as representing the -father of Valentine. To the marriage contract are appended a -dispensation (Louis and Valentine were cousins), a deed of transfer for -the bride’s dowry of Asti and its dependencies, and a declaration of her -right to succeed her father in Milan, in case his direct male line -should become extinct. The clause which chiefly concerns us runs as -follows: “_Item est actum et in pactum solempni stipulatione vallatum et -expresse deductum quod in casu quo præfatus dominus Johannes Galeas -vicecomes, comes Virtutum, dominus Mediolanensis, decedat sine filiis -masculis de suo proprio corpore ex legitimo matrimonio procreatis, dicta -domina Valentina, nata sua, succedat et succedere debeat in solidum in -toto dominio suo presente et futuro quocumque, absque eo quod per viam -testamenti, codicillorum, seu alicujus alterius ultimæ voluntatis, aut -donatione inter vivos, ipsa aliquid faciat seu facere possit in -contrarium quovis modo._” - -Footnote 49: - - J. 409, No. 42. Contrat de Mariage. 42 _bis_, Vidimus du Contrat et - Acte de la remise d’Asti. Pavia, April 8, 1387. 42 _ter_, Confirmation - du Contrat par Clement VII. à Avignon. For further documents on the - subject see Carton K. 553. - -Footnote 50: - - Additional MSS., No. 30,669, fo. 215. - -The husband of Valentine was for many years the tool with which the -astute Visconti hoped to assure his own supremacy in Italy. In 1393 and -in 1394 Visconti had no dearer scheme than that Clement, the Antipope at -Avignon, should make the Duke of Orleans king of Adria. With Clement at -Rome, Anjou at Naples, Orleans ruling the centre from Spoleto to -Ferrara, Visconti beheld the annihilation of Venice and the Tuscan -republics—a united Italy north of Rome. Doubtless he intended the -kingdom of Adria and the kingdom of Lombardy to lose themselves in one -monarchy: but whether that result was to be attained by the subsequent -spoliation of Orleans or by his adoption as heir to Milan, was a -question which probably depended on the living or dying of the sons of -Giangaleazzo. Orleans, however, though so young, proved himself no -facile instrument. He had no intention that Adria and Lombardy should -unite to his own disadvantage; and silently he contemplated another -scheme—to secure the docility of Lombardy by bounding it on the south by -Adria and on the north by another French principality, to be formed by a -fusion of Asti and Genoa. Orleans, therefore, determined to begin by the -conquest of Genoa; and for three years he displayed so much ability that -Giangaleazzo began to suspect this count of Asti and seigneur of Savona, -whom the Genoese implored to become the governor of the Ligurian -republic. Then came the scandal of the acquisition of Genoa by Charles -VI., to the detriment of his brother. From 1395 to 1397 there is a -moment of division between the interests of Orleans and Visconti; but, -as we shall see, the last act of Visconti was to enforce the claims of -Orleans to Milan, and the Duke of Orleans in his will[51] expressly -bequeaths to his eldest son “_la comté d’Ast et autres terres que j’ay -et puis avoir au pays de Lombardy et d’outre les monts_.” As far as -Orleans and Visconti could decide, there is no doubt of the claim of -Orleans to Milan. But it is more difficult to decide by what right -Giangaleazzo Visconti disposed of the emperor’s fiefs of Milan; for -although, when Visconti signed his daughter’s marriage-contract, he was -simply the illegal despot of Milan, eight years later the emperor made -him duke and received tribute at his hands. The lands which Visconti had -gained by succession, by fraud, and by conquest, which he had ruled by -force and national custom, were now indubitably his by feudal right. But -in order to acquire the security of this legality, the Duke of Milan, in -theory at all events, had sacrificed a certain portion of his -independence. - -Footnote 51: - - Champollion-Figeac, “Louis et Charles ducs d’Orléans,” p. 253. The - will is dated Oct. 17, 1403: Pisa was probably counted in the “autres - terres que puis avoir.” - -The first investiture was granted him on Sept. 5, 1395. From this date -he held his duchy of Milan as an imperial fief. But as what manner of -fief? And which class of fiefs admits a woman to be her father’s heir? - -These questions, seemingly simple, are in reality difficult to answer, -because feudal law was quite indefinitely modified by provincial custom. -It was chiefly custom which decided if an hereditary fief could be -inherited by a woman in default of males. Thus in France the provinces -of Burgundy and Normandy were strictly masculine fiefs; but Lorraine, -Guienne, and Artois descended to daughters in default of sons; and the -duchy of Brittany, the kingdoms of Cyprus, Navarre, and Naples (a Papal -fief), will occur to every mind; while in Germany itself, in the -stronghold of feudalism, the duchy of Mecklenburg descended to daughters -on extinction of the masculine branch; many fiefs in Swabia, Zutphen, -Pomerania, and Saxony, followed this example. - -In the North of Italy the distinction between legitimacy and -illegitimacy had become so trivial a thing, that sons, born in or out of -wedlock, were generally forthcoming in sufficient numbers to distance -any feminine claim; and the Imperial investiture—save in the case when -it carried with it the Imperial Vicariat—was rather a rose in the -buttonhole of the tyrant than a necessary legalization of a tyranny -stronger than the law. Yet the marquisate of Montferrat was brought into -the house of the Palæologi through a feminine succession; and in 1387 -Valentine Visconti brought the country of Asti (no less than Milan an -Imperial fief) unquestioned to her husband, and with only the Pope’s -investiture. A century later Caterina Sforza ruled in Pesaro. The custom -in Italy, then, though dubious, various, and full of irregularities and -confusions was, on the whole, the same as the custom in Mecklenburg, -Pomerania, Swabia, Hungary, Brittany, Navarre, and other places: on -extinction of the male descent a woman might succeed. If her succession -were provided for by the terms of the investiture; or, in other cases, -unless she were deliberately excluded.[52] - -Footnote 52: - - In the ordinary imperial fiefs, which, even so late as the end of the - fourteenth century, still in many cases preserved their original idea - of military service granted in return for territorial possessions, a - woman could not succeed without direct and especial mention of this - fact in the investiture, or in some subsequent privilege. But in a - purchased fief daughters were admitted to the succession in default of - males. Milan was an imperial fief, derived directly from the emperor, - and held by the peculiar sort of tenure known as _Fahnlehen_, from the - homage of a banner or standard paid by its possessor to his feudal - lord; it was destined, even if not explicitly reserved, for masculine - operation only. Giangaleazzo Visconti paid the enormous price of - 100,000 florins (about £50,000 sterling) for the title and - investiture, but I am not aware whether this is or is not sufficient - to grant the fief the looser privileges of a _feudum emptum_. - -In the investiture of 1395 which made Giangaleazzo duke of Milan there -is no mention of Valentine, but neither is there any direct mention of -the sons of Giangaleazzo. The duchy of Milan is bestowed on him, _sui -heredes et successores_. Now this term in Italy, where the Pandects were -still the model of civil law, might be held to include _all_ the -children of the possessor; and, on failure of the male line, the -daughter would be entitled to put in her claim. I am not aware how much -was implied in Germany at this date by the employment of this term; but -probably there also it was at least ambiguous, since, under the -Hohenstaufen emperors, Roman law had made a great advance through -Germany, and since, later on, it was found necessary to formulate a -special clause that the use of the expression _sui heredes_ should not -be considered sufficient to authorize females to claim succession to a -masculine fief. - -Any ambiguity was dispelled the following year. There was then a -possibility of war between France and Milan, grievously estranged at -that date by the presence of the French in Genoa, and by the rumours of -witchcraft which defamed the reputation and endangered the safety of -Madame Valentine in France. At this juncture Giangaleazzo, probably -alarmed at the terms of his daughter’s marriage-contract, procured a -second imperial investiture,[54] distinctly limiting the succession to -male heirs. But this was not the end. In 1396 news came to Paris of the -battle of Nicopolis, which necessitated an immediate _rapprochement_ -with Milan; for Giangaleazzo Visconti, feared and hated because of his -friendship with the Turk, was at this juncture the one necessary man, -capable of mediating between the French and the East. Great court was -paid to him, and he accepted the French advances. Peace and amity being -restored between the two countries, on March 30, 1397, he obtained a -third and last investiture from Wenzel,[53] which restored the -conditions of inheritance to their original footing, and bestowed the -duchy of Milan on Giangaleazzo Visconti, _descendentes et successores -sui_. - -Footnote 53: - - “Ann. Med.,” in Muratori, “Rer. Ital. Script.” xvi. - -Footnote 54: - - Dumont, ii. clxxxix. - -This ambiguity of phrase may possibly have been designed. The fact that -the fief was a _pm corr 189.17 Fahnlehn Fahnlehen>_, directly dependent -on the emperor, and that (so far as I can discover) no special Imperial -privilege had been granted to Madame Valentine, would in Germany itself -appear as strong evidence in favour of a solely masculine succession as -even the second investiture could afford. But in Italy, by the custom of -the country and the authority of contract and testament, the children of -Valentine would be included among the heirs and descendants of her -father; and, in case the whole race of his sons expired, the vague terms -of the investiture would allow the line of Orleans to put in a claim -which would prevent so important a part of Italy from relapsing to the -foreign emperor. Such at least, as it appears to me, must have been the -design of the duke in obtaining this last investiture, a two-edged -weapon in the hands of him who has been described as the wisest and the -most astute among all the princes of the west. - -His position, therefore, seems to have been as follows. To secure -himself against any inconvenient pretensions of the French, he had the -restrictions of the feudal law; and yet he was equally protected against -the encroachments of the empire. He had the sanction of local custom, -the ambiguity of the terms of investiture; and, in addition to this, a -papal privilege, conceding to Valentine the right to succeed her -brothers or her nephews in the state of Milan. - -The right of a Pope to dispose of an Imperial fief appears upon the face -of it a very questionable matter, even when the Empire be really vacant. -When Valentine Visconti was contracted to her husband, Clement VII. had -merely declared an interregnum in the empire, on account of the -adherence of Wenzel, King of the Romans, to the faction of Urban the -Pope at Rome. Such was the supremacy of the Church over Imperial affairs -at this period, that, notwithstanding the absurdity of this plea and the -fact that Clement was an Antipope, none was ever found to question the -legality of the French claim to Asti, which was not granted to Orleans -by any Imperial privilege until the investiture of 1413. An intriguing -adventurer anxious to consolidate a new and unpopular dynasty by every -legal claim, Giangaleazzo cultivated Emperor, Pope, and Antipope. Urban -and Clement and Wenzel were all in turn solicited to confirm the tenure -of Visconti. Corio appears to believe that the succession of Valentine -to Milan was granted by Urban, who was certainly in Lombardy in the year -1387. But Urban had denied to Giangaleazzo the coveted title of king of -Italy; and there are as yet no documents discovered which prove the -alluring hypothesis that the astute Visconti held in his possession a -decree of the Pope no less than a decree of the Antipope granting the -succession to Milan to his daughter. - -Enough, however, remains to show by what a cunning opposition of France -to Germany, and Germany to France, the Duke of Milan strove to secure -Italian independence. If the Germans, then but the shadow of a power, -chose to assert their over-lordship, the claim of the French was strong -enough to insure them two enemies instead of one; and _vice versa_:—as, -indeed, a later century too adequately proved. Hoping to hold each -neighbour in check and fear of the other, Giangaleazzo meant to insure a -period of quiet growth for his own principality of Lombardy. - -Thus the contract securing Milan to Valentine by a papal transfer made -for France; the second investiture was absolute for Germany: the first -and third were so worded that they conveyed a different meaning on -either side of the Alps. Besides papal privileges and imperial -investitures there is, however, a third way of conferring property: I -mean the way in which Naples was transferred to Anjou—the way of -bequest. - -But, the reader will exclaim, can a feoffer dispose of a fief without -the written consent of his feodary? Here, as in the question of feminine -succession, the matter was chiefly decided by the custom of the -province. In certain countries—as, for example, Nassau, Friedland, Ober -Lausitz—a feoffer might dispose of his possessions by will, although a -contrary law held good in other countries. - -But whatever the local law, the tendency was strong, even in feudal -Germany, to diminish the rights of the empire to the advantage of the -feudatory powers. As Menzel puts it, “the emperor grasped but a shadowy -sceptre ... the princes increased in wealth and power, while the emperor -was gradually impoverished. Imperial investiture had become a mere form, -which could not be refused except on certain occasions; and the -pfalzgraves, formerly intrusted with the management of Imperial allods, -had seized them as hereditary fiefs.” What was done with impunity in -Germany, was done with audacity beyond the Alps. And the Duke of Milan, -who had received his principality as a vassal, intended to dispose of it -like an hereditary monarch. If we impeach his right to pursue this -course, it is not only the claims of the Visconti, but of almost every -noble family in Italy, Germany, or Flanders that must submit to be -denied or censured. - -Yet claiming and acting upon his own authority to dispose of Milan, -Giangaleazzo Visconti involved his testament in the same web of intrigue -and counter-intrigue which characterized his earlier policy. No less -than three wills, entirely different, are open to us; and as the most -important of these is only known in an undated copy, it is difficult to -decide which was his final disposition of affairs. The first, familiar -enough to the student of Corio, was drawn up in 1397, and was modified -in 1401; it makes no provision at all for Valentine. The second (No. -ccxxiii in the first volume of Osio’s documents), undated, but probably -composed in 1397, confirms her _in all possessions previously bestowed_, -but grants her nothing else, unless she should fall into a state of -poverty or widowhood, in which case she was to have sufficient and -princely nurture in her brother’s home at Milan, with a dowry in case -she should contract a second marriage. This is all, yet this is enough -to confirm the contract of 1387. But it is the latest-found of the -testaments of Giangaleazzo Visconti which is most important to the -student of the French claim to Milan. This will, discovered in 1872 by -Signor Luigi Osio in the Milanese Archives, gives an entirely new force -to the pretensions of Orleans. Yet it exists only in copy and in -extract—like a passage of Sappho saved by some unconscious -grammarian—quoted by a Sforzesco advocate in a letter of warning -addressed to Lodovico il Moro on Jan. 10, 1496. - -At this date, the usurper Lodovico (possessed by the family conviction -that at some time his grandfather, Filippo Maria Visconti, must have -made a will bequeathing Milan to Lodovico’s mother) had entrusted his -friend and kinsman Giason del Maino _elegantissimo et celeberrimo -legista_, (if we may trust the verdict of Corio) with the task of -searching the Milanese Archives to this end. Del Maino discovered -nothing concerning Madonna Bianca; but instead he found two highly -compromising copies of the will of Giangaleazzo Visconti, which had come -to light in the house of Messer Giovanni Domenico Oliari, notary of -Pavia, son of Andriano Oliari (an obstinate and honest servant of the -Visconti dukes), of whom my readers will hear more upon a future page. - -“As for these copies,” wrote Messer Giasone, “though they are only -copies, and by no means according to the terms, I entreat you to have -them seized at once, as well as three other copies which I have reason -to believe are in the possession (1) of the brothers of the Certosa of -Pavia, (2) of Manfredo da Ozino, and (3) of the Signore della Mirandola. -You will do well to keep them safe, for they would be of the greatest -value to the Duke of Orleans, since this testament and fidei-commissio -provides that, should the sons of Giangaleazzo die without male heirs, -one of the sons of Madonna Valentine shall succeed to Milan. And, though -I could find it in my heart to maintain that the Duke of Orleans has no -right to obtain anything, as to Milan, from you or your illustrious -children, none the less you will do well to keep these copies safe.” - -Lodovico took the hint. Of the five copies mentioned not one exists -to-day. Only the forgotten letter remains to show the intention of -Giangaleazzo Visconti. Sudden death and swift oblivion rudely damaged -his dexterous intrigues—so much here for France, so much there for -Germany—an even balance held neatly in a steady hand. The plague numbed -that cunning hand for ever in the autumn of 1402. Murder soon removed -the elder son of the great duke; and the bastard Gabriello died on the -executioner’s scaffold in hostile Genoa. Both died childless, and Milan -fell to their younger brother, Filippo Maria. He ruled in peace and -splendour for more than thirty years in Milan. But two marriages brought -him no sons; only one daughter, and she illegitimate, cheered his -magnificent palace. As the Duke grew old, men began to ask each other -who should succeed him in Milan: his natural daughter, married to the -great captain Francesco Sforza? or his nephew, his sister’s son, the -Duke of Orleans? or his wife’s relations of Savoy? or, after all, must -Milan return, a lapsed fief, into the foreign hands of the German -emperor. - - - II. - -Meanwhile a melancholy fate had pursued the French heirs to Milan, the -children of Valentine and Orleans. This is not the place to explain how -their young dissensions with their father’s murderers summoned the -English into France; or how the youngest, John of Angoulême, was sent to -England, a mere child, in 1412, as a hostage for his brother’s debt; or -how, three years later, the defeat at Agincourt sent Charles of Orleans -to join him there. The sons of Valentine remained in prison all their -youth. When, in 1440, the son of their father’s murderer, the gentle -Duke of Burgundy, ransomed the Duke of Orleans out of bondage, Charles -was a man of forty-six,[55] who returned home to find his estates half -ruined by disastrous wars; his brother Philip dead; his half-brother a -hero—Dunois, the restorer of his country. It was late to regain his -position in this altered world, but at least he lost no time. In the -same month of the same year (November, 1440) Charles married a niece of -Burgundy, Mary of Cleves. In 1445 his brother, John of Angoulême, newly -released from England, married a neighbour of his sister’s—Marguerite de -Rohan, to whose elder sister he had been contracted in his youth. The -two princes were determined to recover their inheritance, to raise up -children, and restore the ancient dignity of their house. Much of -Angoulême and much of Orleans and much of the inheritance of Bonne -d’Armagnac was still in the hands of the English. The estates of Orleans -in France were grievously diminished. And outside France Asti had been -lost also. - -Footnote 55: - - He was born 24th of November, 1394. See for the release of Orleans the - excellent chapter in the Marquis de Beaucourt’s “Histoire de Charles - VII.” t. iii., Paris, 1885. - -In the year 1422, when Charles of Orleans had lain already seven years, -and John ten years, in an English prison, when Philip of Vertus was -dead, when France was paralysed, and Henry VI. of England crowned the -king of France in Paris, the county of Asti, in great fear of the -English (those Goths of the Riviera) and of the nearer jealousies of -ambitious Montferrat, sent to Filippo Maria Visconti, Duke of Milan, and -begged him to receive Asti under his guardianship and protection[57] -until such time as either of his nephews should be released from -England. The Duke of Milan consented willingly. Asti was the Calais of -Italy, and from the Italian point of view it appeared intolerable and -unnatural that this one county should remain a little island of France -in Lombardy, a _pied-à-terre_ across the mountains for invading Gaul. -And now, after twenty years of undisturbed possession, the Duke of Milan -turned a deaf ear to his nephew’s reminder that he was home again and -ready to reassume his inheritance. As a fact the Duke did not dare to -restore Asti. In 1438 he had made Francesco Sforza his lieutenant there; -and he was afraid of Sforza. It was in vain sending letters and -requisitions; so in the beginning of the year 1441 the princes of -Orleans sent Dunois to Milan.[56] - -Footnote 56: - - See M. Leopold Delisle, Collection Bertrand d’Estaing, a long note - about F.M. Visconti’s protection of Asti, and secret instruction of - Orleans to Cousinot, p. 135-40. - -Footnote 57: - - “The Bastard came with this requisition in the year 1442 to Milan, - where I, Secundinus Ventura, saw him” (“Memoriale Secundini Venturæ”). - Dunois went twice, February, 1441, and in 1451. In spite of Ventura’s - line, the date is fixed by a document communicated to me by Count - Albert de Circourt (Pièces Originales Fontanieu, dossier 1185, No. - 38): “Payez 200 écus d’or à nostre comis et féal frère le bastard - d’Orléans sur ung voiage qu’il a fait pour nous au pais de Lombardie - partant de nostre dicte ville de Blois au dict mois de Fébrier dernier - passé.” Blois 22nd Mai 1441. - -There were other matters more important even than the restitution of -Asti, upon which it was well that a man so wise, so experienced, so -persuasive as Dunois should confer with the uncle of his half-brothers. -The Duke of Milan had no sons, one daughter only, and she was -illegitimate. Therefore the princes of Orleans considered themselves the -heirs to Milan. But they were not alone in expecting this inheritance. -The Emperor pointed to the clause in the investiture of 1396 which -declared that, in default of males, Milan should revert to the empire. -Jacopo Visconti, a distant cousin of the Duke’s, brought forward some -pretensions of his own. Sforza, the husband of the Duke’s natural -daughter, thought of the house of Este and of other Italian houses where -more than once a bastard, if courageous and beautiful, had succeeded to -his father before legitimate heirs; and as to the fact that Madonna -Bianca was a woman, had not Giovanna I. of Naples succeeded to King -Robert, even in defiance of a Salic law? Meanwhile the princes of Savoy -remembered that when the Duke of Milan had married the Savoyard princess -he had made, upon receipt of her dower, a promise to her father and her -brother that if no children sprang from this union, he would bequeath -the titles of Milan to Savoy. It is significant of the strange confusion -of the laws of inheritance in Italy that all these princes believed in -the right of a Duke of Milan to bestow by testament, or deed or gift, or -marriage-contract, that which was, in fact, a fief of the Holy Roman -Empire. But the rights of the empire had fallen into long disuse across -the Alps, where a strange confusion of kinship, bequest, investiture, or -election by the people regulated the succession to Papal and Imperial -fiefs. Some princes succeeded in one way, some in the other. To the eyes -of contemporaries they all appeared justifiable alternatives, giving -some shadow of right to that which a strong hand meant to grasp and -meant to keep. “Most of the princes in Italy,” wrote Commines fifty -years later, “hold their lands by no title unless it be given them in -heaven, which we can but divine.” - -Thus eyed suspiciously by rival heirs, Dunois, as the representative of -Orleans, crossed the Alps in 1441 and came to Milan, both to require the -restitution of Asti, and also, as Ventura remarks, to confer on other -matters with the Duke. The Duke of Milan was a sad, timid, indifferent -man, old at five-and-fifty and harassed by an almost lunatic suspicion -of danger from his friends. As he grew older his fears and doubts grew -stronger, and he saw no motive for any sort of conduct beside the desire -to succeed him in Milan. Oppressed by hypochondria, corpulent to -deformity, fatigued by the weight of his body, and exhausted by the -heaviness upon his spirits, this timid and sceptical Volpone of Lombardy -found his sole amusement in weaving into a complicated perplexity the -expectations of his heirs. Sitting immovable in his corner at Milan, -like some huge spider spinning in the dusk, he crossed and recrossed, -twisted and confused, in his dreary web, the hopes of Sforza and of -Orleans, of Savoy and of the bastard cousins of his house. - -No one could be sure of the succession. Sforza, the object of his senile -fondness, was the object also of his insane suspicion. The Duke had -tried a score of times to shuffle out of a promise to give him his -natural daughter; and the very week that he had finally consented to -their marriage, he sent a private messenger to Lionello d’Este, offering -_him_ the hand of Madonna Bianca. Nevertheless, in 1441 Sforza married -Bianca, a mere girl, but bringing in her dowry the Signories of Cremona -and Pontremoli, in addition to his lieutenancy of Asti. After the -marriage he was no more sure of the Duke of Milan than he had been -before. The uncertain seesaw of the Duke’s caprices continued as -unsteady as of old. On the one hand, the Duke was aware that Sforza, -though the son of a peasant, was the most remarkable Italian of his day, -courageous, frank, spirited, kind of heart, and cunning. His immense -strength of will both attracted and repelled the vacillating and -suspicious Visconti. He admired Sforza, and Sforza was the husband of -his only child. Still more, Sforza was secretly supported by Agnese del -Maino, the mother of Bianca, the sole woman whose influence had ever -touched the indifferent and preoccupied heart of Filippo Maria. On the -other hand, the Duke was afraid of Sforza—and to fear, in timid natures, -is to hate. - -When fear and suspicion sank the scale, Visconti inclined to his wife’s -relations of Savoy, who, having no right at all except such as he chose -to give them, presented no cause for fear. Or he encouraged the claims -of Jacopo Visconti. Osio, in a note, informs us that this Jacopo -Visconti was the son of Gabriello, the bastard of Giangaleazzo, and had -this been the case Jacopo Visconti would have had a certain claim. But -Gabriello left no children, and Jacopo must have been the son of one of -the numerous children of Bernabò. Nevertheless he considered himself to -have pretensions. When all these had been weighed in the balance and -found wanting, there remained the princes of Orleans. - -In early life the Duke of Milan had been inclined to France; and he had -been a suitor for that Princess Marie d’Anjou, who afterwards married -King Charles VII. From 1420 to 1427 the pages of Osio abound in messages -and treaties. Then the vexed question of Asti began to embitter his -relations with France, and to increase that fatal suspicion which ever -made him turn with sudden loathing from his former friends. While his -discontent with Anjou was still undecided, the Genoese handed into his -custody the enemy of Anjou, the prince of Arragon, taken prisoner at -sea. In their suzerain Visconti, the ally of Anjou, the Genoese imagined -that they had found a sure custodian for Arragon. But they had not -reckoned upon the personal charm of Alfonso the Magnanimous, nor upon -the capricious indifference of Visconti. Young, handsome, engaging, -fearless, their chivalrous captive won the heart of his timid jailer, -and easily turned his fluctuating policy from Anjou towards Arragon. -Visconti suddenly deserted his own subjects, released Alfonso without -consulting the Genoese, and supported him upon the throne of Naples. - -With some thought in his heart, doubtless, of the success of Alfonso, -Dunois turned his steps to Milan. He also was handsome, persuasive, -rhetorical; and if no longer young, his comely head was encircled by the -aureole of heroic victory. But Dunois lacked the enthusiasm, the -spontaneity, that, in Arragon, had warmed for a moment the numb and -chilly heart of the Duke of Milan. Dunois was as cold, as sceptical, as -wise, as worldly as himself. His flowers of speech made no real effect -upon the weary Duke, who, to get rid of him, made, doubtless, some -magnificent promise for the future; for Dunois did not insist on his -demand for Asti, but returned almost immediately to France, hoping to -settle matters by the friendly intervention of the Emperor Frederic; but -at that time the customary _malentendu_ as to the occupation of Alsace -estranged France and Germany, and Frederic declined to interfere with -the projects of the Duke of Milan. - -Dunois had not impressed the Duke, who was impressed only by youth, -fearlessness, and a never-daunted will. He thought he perceived these -qualities in the young Dauphin, half in disgrace on his estate in -Dauphiné. Him also Visconti determined to drag into the tangled web of -the Milanese succession; and about this time negotiations with the -Dauphin Louis began to complicate the difficulties of Transalpine -policy. - -Already in the spring of 1445[58] a minute in the Archives of Milan, -transcribed by Signor Luigi Osio, records the willingness of the Duke of -Milan to further the Dauphin in his plan of an Italian invasion, -provided that Louis agree to help the friends and not the enemies of -Visconti. Asti should be confided to a person equally trusted by Orleans -and Milan, and after the expiration of a given term should be freely -handed back to the eldest son of Valentine. Notwithstanding this -fair-spoken scheme, Visconti finds it necessary to caution his young -ally against certain persons on the French side of the Alps who use -threats and menaces towards the Crown of Milan. By these it is clear -that he intends his nephews of Orleans. He has no friendship for them. -_Noluit restituere_, briefly remarks Secundino Ventura. - -Footnote 58: - - Feb. 23 (The Milanese began the year upon Dec. 25). Osio, vol. iii. - cccxviii. - -The negotiations with Louis proceeded briskly, and in May the Milanese -ambassador arrived in Paris, where he found _grande garra e divisione_ -between the restless Dauphin and King René of Sicily, who he remarks (to -our unfeigned surprise) _è quello che governa tucto questo reame_. -Meanwhile Louis, young as he was, had already learned a maxim as true in -policy as in almsgiving: he let not his right hand divine the secrets of -his left; and while on the one side he treated with the Duke of Milan, -on the other he practised with Savoy. According to the latter plan Savoy -and the Dauphin, aided by Montferrat and Mantua and Ferrara, were to -conquer between them the north of Italy; France was to take Genoa, the -Lucchese, Parma, Piacenza, Tortona—all south of the Po and east of -Montferrat; Savoy was to gain Milan and keep the Riviera; Alessandria -was to be handed over to Montferrat, and the Duke of Ferrara and the -Marquis of Mantua were, _for the present_, to keep their actual -possessions; but this significant phrase was followed by one more -significant still: “All future conquests are to be divided at the rate -of two shares to France and one share to Savoy.”[59] - -Footnote 59: - - B. de Mandrot. See also MSS. of Bib. Nat., Lat. 17779, fos. 53-56; and - for the correspondence of Pope Felix with his son, Duke Louis of - Savoy, upon this subject, an exhaustive article by M. Gaullier in the - eighth volume of the “Archiv für schweizerische Geschichte.” - -An intimate acquaintance with documents inspires little confidence in -the rectitude of human nature. Of all these personages, Charles of -Orleans, a simple lyric creature, kept fresh and wholesome in arrested -youth behind his prison bars, and Sforza, an honest, grasping and -ambitious soldier, alone inspire respect or sympathy. This old duke, -conscious that in a few months his immense possessions will have -dwindled to a single grave, amusing the last hours of his sceptical, -indifferent existence by juggling the expectations of a dozen heirs; -this child-prince, without an impulse or an illusion left of youth, -successfully deceiving a couple of enemies who each believes himself his -sole ally—these unfortunately are no exceptions to the rule of the game. - -Savoy, in the act of drawing up this project of conquest, was -encouraging the Milanese to trust him to secure them a free republic on -the death of the Duke. Montferrat and Mantua, pledged on the one hand to -conquer Italy with the Dauphin, were as deeply pledged to Venice[60] to -oppose the invader and preserve the peace. Each had been careful to risk -something on every possible event, so that no sudden turn of the wheel -of Fortune could bring about complete disaster. - -Footnote 60: - - Feb. 14, 1447. Reg. 17, fol. 106, Secreta, Venice. This document - records the dismay of Florence and Venice upon learning the league of - France and Milan. These two cities with Montferrat, Mantua, Angleria, - and the other Lombard powers, joined in a solemn convention to oppose - the common enemy and to preserve the peace. - -On the 9th of February, 1447, an indiscreet French squire, riding to -Rome upon a message, let out to the Florentines that a league had been -formed between the Dauphin of France and the Duke of Milan.[61] -According to this report Visconti had offered to aid the lad to recover -Genoa, and had volunteered, in defiance of the rights of Orleans, to -make him lord of Asti. A document in Osio (t. iii. ccclxxiii.) dated the -20th of December, 1446, and a series of letters in the Bibliothèque -Nationale,[62] confirm this remarkable statement, which, if it spread -horror throughout Italy, caused no less indignation among the heirs of -Valentine. Strangely enough it was Sforza, at that time the Milanese -governor of Asti, who advocated the cause of the Dauphin. “Give him -Asti, and he will do you excellent service. Pay him well; and yet -contrive it in such a way that none but your Highness shall be cock or -hen in this country.” This advice was rendered still more unpalatable to -the Italians and to the house of Orleans by a rumour that the Duke of -Milan intended to adopt the Dauphin as his heir. Before the month was -out the north Italian princes formed themselves into a counter-league -against France and Milan, and Orleans and Dunois had despatched to Milan -the baillie of Sens, a certain Reynouard du Dresnay, with a demand for -the immediate restitution of Asti. This time they would brook no -refusal, they would be tempted by no future benefits. Indignant and -disenchanted, they instructed their lieutenant to press the matter home; -and on the 4th of May, Asti again returned to France. The conditions of -the surrender were peculiar. The county was not directly given back to -Orleans, but yielded to Du Dresnay as the lieutenant of the king, so -long as the said king should preserve the good will and consent of -Charles of Orleans, _directus dominus ipsius civitatis et patriæ_. - -Footnote 61: - - Desjardins, “Nég. dipl. avec la Toscane,” t. i. p. 60. - -Footnote 62: - - Bibl. Nat. MSS. Ital. 1584, Nos. 21 and 84, quoted by the Marquis de - Beaucourt in the “Revue des Questions Historiques” for October, 1887. - -In this matter at least the shifty Duke of Milan was outwitted. Asti had -slipped from his grasp; France had again her hand upon the key of -Lombardy. Much of his interest in the game was gone. As the summer waxed -and waned, the Duke grew more than ever heavy, indifferent, and -lethargic. He was not seriously ill, but, as I have said, his interest -in the game was over. In August his health, always feeble, sank in the -great heat of the summer. Immense in his unwieldly corpulence, the Duke -sat in a darkened chamber of his palace brooding over his unfinished -testament. He suffered no physician near him, and his illness—a low -fever—was kept a secret. But the faint heart of Filippo Maria could no -longer animate the weight of his body. On the 13th of August, 1447, he -died—less of his illness, it was said, than of utter indifference, as -one who, weary of the spectacle of existence, left his seat and retired -whence he came. - -Above the corpse, scarcely yet cold, the rival heirs, in eager -expectation, gathered to the reading of the will. The Duchess-dowager -represented Savoy; Madonna Bianca appeared for the absent Sforza; -Raynouard du Dresnay came to Milan on behalf of Orleans; while, at a -distance, Montferrat and Jacopo Visconti looked to their own interests; -the Venetians had hopes of their own; the Milanese, as we know, intended -to inaugurate a republic; the emperor, serene above these petty -quarrels, declared that by feudal law Milan had already devolved to him. -Absent or present, there was not one of these, save him, but had some -promise of Filippo Maria’s in his mind when at length the testament was -opened. The will was dated August 12th,[63] the day before the death of -the Duke. There was no mention in it of his daughter, Madonna Bianca, -none of his wife, none of any of his nephews or kinsmen. He left Alfonso -of Arragon his universal heir. - -Perhaps, as Guicciardini suggests, love of his people induced the dying -Duke to leave his city to a distant tyrant; perhaps, in his suspicion of -his present friends, his fancy turned with pleasure to the good bright -youth who had been his captive long ago; perhaps his defeat at Asti made -him like to think of the evil turn that once he had done the French in -Naples; or, it may be, the mere desire of outraging the detestable -_cohue_ of his quasi-legal heirs proved irresistibly fascinating to the -sceptical old man. At least so it was. Every right was outraged;[64] the -King of Naples was left the Duke of Milan. “Nevertheless come here as -soon as you can,” wrote Antonio Guidoboni to Sforza[65] on the 14th; -“once on the spot and half the game is won.” - -Footnote 63: - - “Archivio Storico Lombardo,” Anno iii. fasc. iv. - -Footnote 64: - - Osio, ii. note to p. 2. In the hour of his death, on August 14th, the - Duke drew a codicil leaving everything to Alfonso. Two days before he - had left Alfonso _erede universale_, and Bianca _erede particolare_. - Of course in either case she remained mistress of Cremona and - Pontremoli. - -Footnote 65: - - Osio quotes this letter, which exists in the Archives of Milan: _Fece - el Re d’Arragona erede del tutto, non facta mentione veruna di M.B. - [Madonna Bianca] ne de la mogliere ne d’altri.... Vegnate pur voi via - senza veruna dimora; zonto siate qua lo mezo del giocho e vincto._ - - - III. - -It was at this moment that for the first time the French claim to Milan -became a question for practical politics. Frederic the Pacific was not -the man to press the rights of the German Empire in Italy, rights which -at this time were continually disregarded, and which nothing less than a -military occupation could enforce. Even the Ghibellines in Lombardy -declared, not for the Emperor Frederic, but for Count Francesco Sforza. -Yet the Emperor Frederic was, so far as the legal and abstract side of -the matter was concerned, the one really serious rival of the Duke of -Orleans. - -For Alfonzo of Arragon showed no inclination to take up arms in defence -of his unexpected bequest. Although, in the city of Milan itself, he had -a considerable party in his favour, at this time neither Alfonso nor his -rivals appear to have regarded the will of the late duke in any serious -spirit. The story ran in Milan that, in the week before his death, when -that astounding testament was made, Filippo Maria had smiled and said, -“It will be good to see how it will go to pieces when I am dead.” A -cynical pleasure in aggravating as much as possible this imminent ruin -must, I think, have prompted the Duke to leave Milan to Alfonso. And if -his detached, amused, malevolent soul could really from any -extra-mundane point of vantage have watched the events which quickly -followed his decease, he would have found the spectacle as exciting and -as novel as he wished. The Milanese at once declared themselves a free -republic, governed by various Princes of Liberty. Whereupon all the -subject cities announced that if Milan was a republic, so was each of -them, for they would not submit to bear the yoke of a city no nobler -than the rest. Hereupon such of the cities as were not strong enough to -stand alone gave themselves, some to the Venetians, some to Savoy, some -to Genoa, some to Orleans, some to Montferrat, some to Ferrara; and all -these powers sent armies into Lombardy to protect their rights. Matters -were still further complicated by the dissensions of the Bracceschi and -Sforzeschi, the Guelfs and Ghibellines. In Pavia alone, for instance, -the Guelfs declared, some for Venice, some for Orleans, some for the -King of France, some for the Dauphin; the Bracceschi declared for -Alfonzo of Arragon; Savoy and Montferrat each had a faction at their -service, but the great body of the Ghibellines were in favour of Count -Francesco Sforza, to whom finally the city submitted. This was a blow to -the free republic of Milan next door; but in the miserable state of -their dominions, the unfortunate Princes of Liberty did not dare to -remonstrate with their too potent commander, and Count Francesco, -sovereign at Pavia, continued to be the servant of the Milanese -republic. - -So soon as the news of the death of the Duke of Milan came to France, -the French prepared to assert the rights of Orleans. On September 3rd -Charles VII. wrote from Bourges to Turin, recommending the rights of -Orleans to Savoy:— - -“_Nostre tres-cher et très-amé frère, le Duc d’Orléans, à présent Duc de -Milan_ [asserts the king] _par le décès du feu Duc son oncle, qui est -naguères allé de vie à trespas, comme son plus prochain hoir, nous a -bien exprès faict dire et remonstré le bon droict qu’il ha au dict Duché -de Milan._”[66] - -Footnote 66: - - This letter is quoted in M. Gaullieur’s interesting collection of - documents from the correspondence of Duke Louis of Savoy, published in - the eighth volume of the “Archiv für schweizerische Geschichte.” Also - in M. de Beaucourt’s “History,” _op. cit._ - -And Savoy, in all his further proceedings to obtain the protectorate of -Milan for himself, excepts the French claim, against which he avows -himself powerless to protest. This claim, theoretically so strong, had -also in its favour the devotion—the veneration, says Corio—which the -royal name of France inspired in the Guelfs of Lombardy; and in this -moment of revolution the Guelfs, the democratic party, were -exceptionally powerful. The governor of Asti, Raynouard du Dresnay, -infected by the ardour of the times, could no longer await the coming of -his master, but on September 22nd, furnished with 3,300 golden ducats of -Asti, at the head of a little force of 1,500 men-at-arms, sallied out to -plant the royal lilies of Orleans upon the soil of Milan. - -Almost at once the inhabitants of Felizzano, Solero, Castellaccio, and -Bergolio yielded to his arms. So many of the fortresses in the -Alessandrino followed suit that Alessandria and all the country round -were filled with fear. The force of Raynouard was very small, but -inspired with so much fury, such fervour and cruelty of battle, that the -softer Italians did not dare resist him. The smaller cities opened at -his knock, and even in the larger cities there was a party which, afraid -of his vengeance, and fascinated by the prestige of France, would have -welcomed him with open arms. Yet there were many, hating the stranger -and his barbarian ferocity, who sent messenger after messenger to -Sforza, bidding him arrive and deliver them. “Patience!” said Count -Francesco. “In the first onslaught the French are more than men. Soon -they will weary, and then we will attack them.” But meanwhile, with -undiminished energy, day after day the victories of Raynouard proceeded, -and further and further into Lombardy advanced the banners of the king -of France. - -On October 1st an embassy from the unhappy republic of Milan arrived in -Venice requesting aid and counsel. This, of a truth, was seeking -sweetness in the jaws of the lion; for Lodi, Codogno, and other cities -had already revolted to the Venetians, who hoped in time, by skilful -management, to possess the greater part of Lombardy. But the bewildered -Princes of Liberty knew not in whom to place their trust. Venice and -Florence were leagued together, and each hoped to obtain something from -the dismemberment of the territories of Milan; Montferrat, Mantua, -Savoy, Genoa, and France, in open arms, were spoliating the corpse of -their neighbour—for a corpse indeed it seemed—and of the captain-general -of their own forces these heads of the republic were more profoundly -suspicious than of any open foe. Too many of the nobles in Milan were -secretly in favour of this adventurer. Only the people, the Guelfs, -sustained their republican ardour with violent rhetoric, and declared -that they would rather be the servants of the Turk, or of the Devil, -than of Count Francesco Sforza. - -There was this in favour of Venice, that she detested Count Francesco -(who had left her service for the Duke of Milan’s) as bitterly as any -Guelf in Lombardy. And Venice, the most aristocratic of oligarchies, was -for complicated political reasons greatly favoured by the Guelfs. -Therefore, not without hope in their hearts, the delegates of Milan -awaited the answer of the Venetian senate. Three practicators, or -agents, were deputed by the Ten to confer with the ambassadors -concerning the proposed alliance between Milan and Venice; but these -agents were secretly bidden in no way to commit or bind the Venetian -government (_nichil obligando nos_); for the conference really was to be -only a means of extracting information as to the true condition of -affairs in Milan.[67] And it would be as valueless to us, as to the -hapless, bamboozled Milanese, were it not that here we get, I think, the -first evidence of the Venetian inclination to pronounce for France.[68] - -Footnote 67: - - Secreta, Reg. 17, fol. 171, tergo. - -Footnote 68: - - _Sed si in colloquiis fieret mentio per ipsos oratores de serenissimo - Rege Francorum, et de Januense, qui occupassent de locis que fuerant - quondam ducis, in hoc casu, praticatores ipsi iustificare debeant, in - modesta et convenienti forma verborum, factum præfati Regis, et - Januensis; videlicet, quod per nos, contra eos, honeste et - convenienter fieri non possit._ - -There was no help here from the violence of Raynouard. Venice especially -declared that against France and Genoa she would do nothing. And every -day recorded the conquests of the French. The Milanese ambassadors -returned very sadly, “despised by the Venetians,” says Corio, “and -treated as perniciously as possible.” In vain they bade Francesco Sforza -give battle to the audacious little force of Raynouard. Count Francesco, -who had ever been favourable to France, pursued his waiting game, -although Bosco Marengo, closely besieged by the French, was almost at -the end of possible resistance, and the fall of Bosco meant the loss of -Alessandria. At last the Milanese succeeded in scraping together about -fifteen hundred soldiers, and these, under Coglioni, they sent to -Alessandria to harass the enemy. The French were taken between two -fires—on the one side Coglioni, on the other the Alessandrian -reinforcements; yet at first they gained the day, but so furious was -their anger, and so long they dallied in the slaughter of their enemies, -that before they had despatched the last, a further reinforcement of the -Milanese, and a successful sally on the part of the besieged, -intercepted their return. Raynouard was taken prisoner with many of his -men; the cities which had revolted to him returned to the allegiance of -the Milanese republic; and the royal troops, leaderless and disbanded in -the very hour of victory, fled home as best they might to Asti. - -This was on Oct. 17, 1447. Twelve days later the Duke of Orleans himself -arrived in Asti. There he made a solemn entry on Oct. 26th, riding under -a däis borne by the notables of the city robed and hooded all in white, -_pro majori letitia adventus ipsius domini ducis_. Charles of Orleans -was now a man of fifty-seven, amiable and sanguine. Something of the -charm and of the inefficiency of youth appeared to linger around this -aging poet, who, taken captive a youth of twenty-four, issued into the -world again almost a man of fifty. Those intervening years had held for -him none of the serious business of life: and his experience was still -the experience of charming, ardent, and unhappy youth. Since Agincourt -he had counted his years by lyrics, not by battles; and now perhaps one -of the serious things to him in this contentious Lombardy was his -friendship with Antonio Astesano, professor of eloquence and poetry at -Asti, himself no inconsiderable versifier, and author of a poetic -epistle on the victories of the Maid of Orleans, which in 1430 he had -sent to the Duke in his English prison. Charles, with his serene -unpractical temper, his interest in literature, his inexperience of -life, hoping all things, doing nothing, appears a strange figure in that -distracted Lombardy: a garlanded maypole stuck in the front of battle. - -At first the arrival of the Duke of Orleans appeared an event of -immeasurable importance. The Guelfs in every Lombard town, who at first -had thought only of Venice, began, more loudly even than during the -campaign of Raynouard, to declare for France. The Duke came armed with -promises from France, from Burgundy, from Brittany, from England. There -were no bounds to the magnificence with which he declared himself about -to take the field. But perhaps it would not be necessary to take the -field at all. The Duke sent a deputation to the Milanese republic; the -lord of Cognac, one of the nobles of Ceva, Caretti (whose family all the -while were practising none too secretly with Montferrat), Secondino -Natti, Antonio Romagnano, and Francesco Roero, requested the Milanese to -submit to the allegiance of their lawful duke. But the Milanese were all -too well aware of the hateful consequences of tyranny. Men were still -alive whose brothers and whose children had been torn to pieces, limb by -limb, by the hounds of Giammaria Visconti, the uncle of this man. The -suspicion, the cunning, the timid fear of Filippo Maria had succeeded to -that oppression. “This time,” said the people of Milan, “we will -preserve ourselves a free republic.” - -A show of force would at least be necessary to induce them to change -their minds; and in December, 1447, Charles of Orleans sent an embassy -to Venice,[69] requesting the Council to enter into an arrangement with -him, and to furnish him with troops. He repeated his assurances of aid -from France, England, and Burgundy; and if such aid as this were really -forthcoming, Venice, animated by a limited Venetian and not by a -national Italian patriotism, would certainly hesitate to cross his path. -So bitter was the hatred of Venice towards Sforza, that any other -candidate appeared preferable to him; and this douce, unready Charles -would be easier to manage than a man of that heroic and ambitious type. -Yet in a matter so important it was, before all things, necessary to be -circumspect; and the Venetians put off the Duke of Orleans with many -assurances of their devoted adherence and affection, many warnings -against the cunning and the machinations of Sforza, while they wrote to -their allies of Florence requesting an opinion. At this instant Sforza -was so dreaded in Italy, and his victory appeared so imminent, that if a -few of the promised battalions had appeared in Piedmont the Venetians -would gladly have espoused the cause of Orleans. But Sforza, left almost -without money, with no ally that he was really sure of except his -valiant wife, found the situation untenable. He had not a friend in -Italy, nor a friend across the mountains. Peace, if only the feint of -peace, was imperative while he collected his unvanquished forces for a -further struggle. Early in January he wrote to Florence, proposing -peace. The Florentines and the Venetians were bound in so close a league -that peace with the one meant truce with the other; and though, at least -twice, in solemn terms, the Council of Ten warned the Florentine Signory -that there was no substance in this matter, for peace was contrary to -the real interests of Count Francesco, yet in the end Venice agreed to -accept this peace for what it was worth, using the hour of respite to -further her stratagems in other quarters. - -Footnote 69: - - Reg. 17, fol. 194, tergo. Dec. 30, 1447. - -The peace was not worth much. On May 9th Andriano Ricci of Asti arrived -in Venice with a message from the Duke of Orleans.[70] “The French -reinforcements will soon be here,” said the sanguine Duke; “will you -also be my auxiliary?” The Venetians, though still cautious, replied in -terms of alacrity— - -“We are ready to grant you all possible aid and favour, and there is no -other prince on earth whom we so warmly desire to be our neighbour in -Milan. Hasten the King of France, for if any good effect is to follow -our endeavours, the troops should come at once. And rely upon it, so -soon as your French auxiliaries are in readiness, we also will provide a -satisfactory contingent to help in the conquest of Milan. And we are the -readier to do this, since the peace which we had begun to treat with the -Milanese republic is already broken, and we at this moment are in open -war with Milan.” - -Footnote 70: - - Reg. 17, fol. 221, tergo. - - * * * * * - -But, just at the instant when it would have given most pleasure to -Venice to support the claims of Orleans, she began to feel grave doubts -as to the solidity of his pretensions. Those promised armies of France, -England, Burgundy, and Brittany, which had been on the road ever since -last December, would they never cross the Alps? As yet not a single -soldier had appeared. How far could Venice trust the assertions of the -fanciful and sanguine Orleans? A strain in him of the Visconti -shiftiness mingled with the rhetoric of his father, and for all his -amiable simplicity Charles of Orleans was not a man to inspire -conviction. The Venetians were, however, aware that Burgundy was really -in his favour. It was Burgundy who had paid the ransom of Orleans, and -Burgundy had twice sent his ambassadors to Venice, entreating the Ten in -favour of his cousin. There was a great friendship between the good Duke -Philip and the gentle Duke Charles; it seemed as if, having overcome the -tremendous barrier of an hereditary vendetta, these two men, whose -fathers had each been murdered to satisfy the feud, entertained for each -other an affection that had gained by the obstacles it had surmounted. -If Burgundy, the richest duke in Europe, supported Orleans, it might be -well to aid him even in the absence of France, England, and Brittany. -But it would be disastrous to support the inefficient duke alone against -such mighty odds. Yet some aid against Sforza was immediately desirable. -To the Venetians, to have two strings to your bow was the first axiom of -policy; and on May 20, 1448, the Ten despatched to Asti a secret -messenger, one Messer Bernardo Neri, who was to interview the Duke,[71] -to obtain all possible information as to his army and his auxiliaries, -and then, in the utmost privacy, to proceed to Savoy in order to judge -in which direction it best would suit the Venetian cat to jump. - -Footnote 71: - - Reg. 17, fol. 220. Secreta del Senato, MS. - -Messer Bernardo stayed over a fortnight at Asti, although his commission -was only for five days; and from this we may suppose that at first he -really had expectations of the success of Orleans. But on June 10th[72] -he left, ostensibly to return to Venice in order to receive the answer -of the Senate; but in reality he went only a little way on the Venetian -road and turned aside at once into Savoy, for at Turin he knew he should -find further instructions from the Senate. He could only spend a day or -two over his negotiations with the Duke there, for he had to return to -Asti on the day when an answer might reasonably be expected to reach -that place from Venice. But his interview with Duke Louis was evidently -satisfactory, for it is the first of a long series of negotiations. - -Footnote 72: - - Reg. 18, fol. 3, Secreta del Senato, MS. - -Meanwhile Orleans in Asti found his affairs did not progress at all. The -Venetians, though so prodigal of offers of assistance, declined to come -forward until he had an army at his back. The Milanese refused to -recognize him. Worst of all, the French appeared to have forgotten him. -It seemed best to return to France and collect his forces. So on Aug. -10th, after a stay of nine months in Asti, Charles of Orleans with all -his household went home again across the mountains. The Duke took back -with him his friend Antonio Astesano, and ever afterwards he retained a -strong affection for the country of his mother. The visit of Charles of -Orleans to Asti was important as an introduction of Italian fashions, -Italian architecture, Italian arms, jewels,[73] and vestments into -France. It caused a pure whiff of Italy to breathe across the Gothic -style of Charles VII. But it made little or no effect on the furthering -of the French claim to Milan. - -Footnote 73: - - Viollet-le-Duc, “Mobilier Français,” iv. 454. - -Orleans had scarcely crossed the Alps before he was as completely -disregarded as though he had never seemed the most dangerous pretender -to the throne of Milan. Savoy had taken his place. The claim of Savoy -was quite childish and ridiculous. He pretended that, on the payment of -his sister’s dowry to the late Duke of Milan, Filippo Maria had promised -to leave his duchy, in default of sons, to the Duke of Savoy.[74] It was -evident that the Duke had done nothing of the sort; he had left his -throne to Arragon. Besides, it is difficult to see how his testament -could dispose of property which, by his father’s will and his sister’s -marriage contract, was entailed on his nephews of Orleans, and which, by -feudal law, must return to the Holy Roman Empire. But, however shadowy -his claims, the Duke of Savoy was a great person to the Milanese. He was -loved by them and he was feared by them; and had he hazarded a bold -stroke instead of counteracting his own efforts by a perfect maze of -petty intrigues, he might easily have made himself, if not the Duke of -Milan, at any rate protector of the Milanese republic. - -Footnote 74: - - Olivier de la Marche, “Mémoires,” livre i. chap. 17. - -But Duke Louis was afraid to hazard all his chances on any single throw. -In 1446 he had intrigued with the Dauphin to divide the Milanese with -France; on the 3rd of May, 1448, he drew up a secret and solemn contract -with the Milanese to protect their republic, in consequence of which, a -few months later, the grateful city privately elected him her chief. In -June, 1449, he was arranging with the King of Arragon to conquer the -estates of Milan with this ally, and divide them at the rate of -three-fifths for Arragon and two-fifths for Savoy;[75] and in the autumn -of the same year he was making a very similar proposal to the Venetians. -In the pains he took to win something, however little, Savoy effectually -safeguarded himself from winning all. Yet at one time he appeared to -have great chances in his favour. - -Footnote 75: - - Secreta del Senato, Reg. 18, fol. 106, MS. - -In the summer and early autumn of 1448, both Venice and the Milanese -believed that a republic under the joint protection of Venice and Savoy -might flourish in Milan, were it not for the undying energy and -resolution of Count Francesco Sforza. To be rid of this man was to be -rid of war; and twice in August and once in September the Ten wrote to a -certain Lorenzo Minio, captain of the Brescia, that they accept a -certain proposal he had made: “If the person he suggests will in truth -deal death to Count Francesco we shall be his debtors.”[76] According to -the discretion of Minio they offered his candidate from ten thousand to -twenty thousand ducats; or, should he be of the sort that stoops not to -money, he should have the captaincy of a regiment, of from two hundred -to four hundred lances. “But,” they proceeded, “let not the matter stick -for a trifle—cheer him and inspirit him so that his resolution come to a -good effect, and that speedily; put him in heart with his work and let -it be done well.” The plain English of these phrases means that the -Venetian Council was willing to pay a great sum of money to any one who -would undertake to poison Count Francesco Sforza. - -Footnote 76: - - Lamansky, “Secrets d’Etat de Venise,” p. 160. - -But before the proposal was carried out, a second message, five months -later, bade the friend of Minio stay the destruction in his hand. “Count -Francesco having entered into good and faithful relations with the -Senate, we withdraw the order for his death.” As suddenly as before and -for as short a time an alliance was declared between the Venetians and -the Milanese. - -This alliance, as before, was merely an occasion for the resumption of -intrigues. Arragon and Savoy, Savoy and Venice, Venice and Milan were -secretly determining an arrangement which should exclude Francesco -Sforza. It seems scarcely worth while to have countermanded the order -for his death, since by some means or another to be rid of this -adventurer was the aim and end of all this policy. The Guelfs of Milan -sent to Venice a certain Arrigo Panigarola, who throwing himself upon -his knees before the Ten, with tears and prayers implored the Venetians -to defend his hapless city from Count Francesco. The Council was -impressed, but decided to reserve its answer for a little while. - -A few months after the arrival of Panigarola, the Duke of Savoy sent an -ambassador to Venice upon a similar errand. How was it possible that the -Venetians, so respectable a state, could support a wearisome adventurer -like Count Francesco? Savoy gave the Venetians to understand that if -they continued to supply soldiers to the camp of Sforza he should reckon -his behaviour on their part a _casus belli_. How much better it would be -if the Venetians would acquiesce in an honourable peace between the -Milanese republic and Savoy and Venice! This threefold league would -effectually crush Francesco Sforza, and would establish plenty and -security in devastated Lombardy; whereas if the present dissensions -continue, both Orleans and Arragon would certainly come across the -mountains to seek their profit here, and so should a great fire be lit -in Italy which much effusion of blood would never quench. The Savoyard -ambassador waxed really eloquent over the blessings of peace; for at -this very time his master was writing to his father the Antipope at -Lucerne: “The Milanese have secretly elected me chief, but what am I to -do with Italy for Sforza, Germany for the emperor, and France for -Orleans?” All indeed that he could do was _faire entretenir les Milanais -par tous moyens, sans avoir dict encore ne_ non, _ne_ ouy; _et, d’aultre -part, envoyer à Venise, et aussi envers le Comte François, et aultres où -il est nécessaire practicquer quelque bons moyens par voye -d’accord_.[77] Of all these various plots the most successful for Savoy -would have been a peace strong enough to set at naught Francesco Sforza, -to restore prosperity to Lombardy, and to enable the Milanese to elect -him, with apparent spontaneity, protector of their state. The first step -was to secure peace with Venice; and he found the Venetians in an -acquiescent mood. The important city of Crema had followed the lead of -Lodi and Codogno, and had declared itself the subject of Saint Mark; and -the Venetians, who could not keep Crema and continue to ally of Count -Francesco, suddenly came to terms with Panigarola, declared themselves -the champions of the Milanese republic, and offered the Duke of Savoy -not merely a friendly neutrality but an offensive alliance.[78] They -resumed their negotiations for the assassination of Count Francesco, -and, “without a thought,” says Corio, “of the league or law divine,” -despatched him a message informing him that they, his comrades in arms -of yesterday, should become to-morrow his enemies upon the field of -battle. - -Footnote 77: - - Gaullieur, _op. cit._ - -Footnote 78: - - Reg. 18, fol. 83. April 21, 1449. Secreta del Senato, MS. - -Count Francesco received the news with great gravity, without a sign of -anger, or sorrow, or displeasure; although his situation was becoming -really desperate; for, as the Venetian legate maliciously informed him, -the Venetians were negotiating alliances with Savoy, with Arragon, and -with the Pope. As to Savoy, Sforza forestalled them; for he forthwith -despatched a messenger to Turin with terms so advantageous to Duke Louis -that that unstable personage put the Venetians out of mind and settled -into peace with Sforza: who, enabled to turn his entire force against -Venice, drove his late allies back beyond the Adda, defeated them -utterly at Caravaggio, made peace with them as a victor with success -before him, and in the middle of October turned his arms against the -Milanese republic. - -Sforza had disarmed Savoy and conquered Venice; but he had not yet come -to an end of his enemies. In November, 1447, Charles of Orleans -seriously resumed his intentions of a Milanese campaign. Already in -July, Burgundy had rewritten to the Venetians entreating them to favour -Orleans; and the council had replied[80] that though their _acts_ of -late may have appeared hostile to the cause of Orleans, yet nothing but -the instinct of self-preservation had ever induced them to make peace -with Francesco, and their _sentiments_ were still most loyal to the -house of France. Nothing appeared more likely than a French invasion; -Savoy already had warned the Venetians of it. On the 14th of November -the Duke of Orleans wrote to the city of Asti,[79] saying that he was -now positively certain of the alliance with Brittany and Burgundy, and -that before Christmas, his army, under Jean Focaud, would arrive in -Lombardy. This letter, written in a tone of the cheerfullest high -spirits, was followed a week later by one equally sanguine and happy: -_Dei gratia, omnia negotia Lombardie ad nos spectantia sunt in his -presentibus optime disposita_. Jacques Cœur has pronounced himself -favourable to the affair. And on the 4th of December Orleans writes that -the companies of Foix and Bourbon are on the point of departure; and -that John of Angoulême is arranging with the king for the reinforcement -from the royal troops. - -Footnote 79: - - Secreta del Senato, MS. Reg. 10, fol. 93. July 3. 1449. - -Footnote 80: - - These four letters are quoted by M. Maurice Faucon from the Milanese - Archive in his report of his two missions in Italy in the years 1879 - and 1880, pp. 35-37. - -But Christmas came, and the phantom armies of the expectant Orleans -remained as visionary as before. Yet on the 7th of January he writes, -still sanguine, still bent on conquering his castle in the air: “The -army will be larger than we thought; for all the French princes will -lend their aid. Burgundy is sending great sums of gold and abundant -troops into Lombardy.” The Duke is as full as ever of his schemes and -hopes. But this is the last of his letter; and before his messenger -could bring an answer home from Asti, Milan had found a master among the -ranks of Italy. - -For famine and weariness and civil discord had broken the spirit of the -Milanese republic. Even Savoy, even Venice, were seized with pity, and -murmured to each other that almost any change would be desirable, _ut -hec afflicta et misera Lombardia, dudum guerrarum disturbijs lacessita, -aliquando quiescere possit; tot populis, tot calamitatibus, totque -oppressorum vocibus compatiendum et miserandum erat_. Anything short of -the success of Count Francesco would be a happy alternative to such -disaster. And in Milan itself the discontent was as pronounced. The -Guelfs still vociferated against Francesco, but the Ghibellines, the -party of the nobles, grew slowly and strongly in favour of the Count. -All parties at last were out of conceit with this miserable liberty, -which was but another name for civil disunion and ruin. Some were for -the Pope, and some for Charles of France, and these were the Guelfs. -Some were for Savoy, some for the King of Naples. But all these princes -lived a long way off; they had no armies ready to combat the Venetians, -whom each and every faction dreaded now and hated worse than famine. -When one day Gasparo de Vimercato rose up in public conclave, and -suggested that Milan should give herself to Count Francesco Sforza, it -was incredible how suddenly the whole mind of the city turned towards -the Count. The Count was the son-in-law of the late duke. The city was -familiar with him. He was known to be humane and generous and strong. -Should the city elect him, in one day he could dissipate the famine, the -battles, the fear of enemies, and the suspicion of treachery, which for -thirty months had made the misery of Milan. Leonardo Gariboldo, Aloigi -Trombetta, and Gasparo da Vimercato were sent at once to acquaint Count -Francesco, that by the free voice of the people he had been elected lord -of Milan. - -Among the innumerable conspirators, intriguing diplomatists, and -successful tradesmen who filled the high places of the Italy of that -day, Francesco Sforza appears at least a man. Simple, direct, and brave, -no sudden honour and no reverse of fortune took from him that natural -dignity of a balanced mind which is one of the finest attributes of the -Italian. Good sense and kindness made a moral force of this captain of -adventure. He disciplined his troops, erected a court-martial, and -punished offences of rape and violence by death; so that while the -miserable populations of Lombardy had everything to fear from the other -armies that occupied their soil, gradually they learned to feel -themselves secure in the rough, mailed hands of Count Francesco. Among -the soldiers his reputation was more than mortal. We have to leap over a -dozen generations before the prestige of the Little Corporal present an -analogy to such devotion. But Count Francesco was loved and respected -even by his enemies; and there is a story of him which has ever struck -me as among the most charming in military history. It was at the siege -of Como, in that very February of 1450, when, unknown to him, the -Milanese who had so long and so furiously resisted him, were crying, -“Sforza! Sforza!” in an ecstasy of hungry enthusiasm in the great -piazza. Meanwhile Sforza and his men were occupying Monte Barro; by -means of a little hill in front, overlooking the Adda, and fortified by -five bastions, they kept in check the troops of Venice and Milan, ranged -in impotent lines along the further side of the river. The bulwarks of -the little hill were but slight, improvised in a few days for the -occasion, and the poor Italian artillery of the fifteenth century, -wrought no great destruction; yet such was the spell of Sforza’s name, -that the two armies across the Adda never ventured to try the place by -assault. One night, however, it leaked out that Count Francesco was not -in the fort; he had gone up the mountain to arrange a fresh disposition -of his troops upon the summit of Monte Barro. In his absence it was -decided to attack the hill, and in the late February dawn the Venetians -and Milanese poured under the slender bulwarks, armed with artillery, -which silenced that of the fort, and, planting their scaling ladders -against the ramparts, they soon were in possession of the place. Now, as -it happened, unknown to either army, late at night Count Francesco had -returned home, and hearing the clamour in the place, he started out of -sleep and strode at once to the ramparts, ignorant that the enemy had -taken the place by surprise and that his soldiers, unaware of his -presence in their midst, had already given the sign of surrender. -“Defend yourselves, for I am here!” rang out the clear voice of the -Count; and at that moment he perceived that he stood alone in the midst -of his foes. But the mere fact of his presence was a better defence to -his bastions than a world of soldiers. The assailants, like chidden -children, withdrew from their positions, dropped the guns and pieces -they were carrying away, and with uncovered heads made for their -scaling-ladders. As they passed the Count, standing alone there, they -made for his hand—kneeling, crowding to touch it. “Father and ornament -of Italian arms we salute you,” cried the soft Venetian voices; and in -little knots and groups, as quickly as they might, they dropped over the -walls into the moat again, leaving Count Francesco the master of his -ramparts. It was to this man, so eminently the hero of his hour, that -the three Milanese delegates brought their news of the submission of the -city. - -On Feb. 25, 1450, Count Francesco Sforza rode into Milan. He rode at the -head of his troops, and he had taken care that his future subjects -should welcome the army; for every soldier was hung all over, from -corslet, from waist, from shoulder, and from arm and hand, with loaves -of bread—great clustering rolls and loaves that hid the armour -underneath, as much as every man could carry. It was fine, wrote Corio, -to see how the famished Milanese fell upon the troops, avidly tearing -the longed-for food from neck and arm, and falling to at once (_con -quanta ingordigia!_) upon the delicious bread. “Sforza! Sforza!” cried -the citizens, a thousand times more eagerly than before. Some of them -cried out in the words of the Psalms _Hæc est dies, quam fecit Dominus; -exultemus et lætemur in ea_! Sforza was in the city; his troops and his -bread had effectually secured his future. The Venetians might brew -another poison. Charles of Orleans at Chauny might return that loan of -men and gold which his cousin of Burgundy had lent him. Louis of Savoy -wrote to his father at Lucerne: _Le Comte François a obtenu ceste ville -par intelligence, déceptions et pratiques et non mie par force de -guerre_. All these pretenders, who had felt the bird already in the -hand, must dissemble as best they might their disappointment. But -Genoa[81] and Florence welcomed the chance of peace, and in November, -1451, joined in a defensive league with Milan against the Dauphin, King -of France, the Duke of Savoy, and the Venetians. Lombardy was no longer -the devastated battlefield of doubtful victory. Count Francesco Sforza -was effectually the master of Milan. - -Footnote 81: - - Archives of Genoa. Materie Politiche, mazzo 12, 3. See also Charavay’s - “Report on the Italian Letters of Louis XI.,” 1881. - - - IV. - -It is one thing to have a thing by might, another to hold that thing by -right. The theory that might is right appears sufficient in the hour of -conquest, yet it is but a slender basis for future government; and -Francesco Sforza, safely lodged in Milan, hedged round with troops, -greeted as duke by the very citizens who had so long repulsed him, was -none the less aware that men regarded him merely in the light of a -successful usurper. Even in Milan there were many who regretted the loss -of a legitimate dynasty; there were those who looked to the King of -Naples, the adopted heir of the late duke; and there was a party anxious -to proclaim the suzerainty of the Emperor; and a larger party still who -placed their faith in Charles of Orleans, the legitimate descendant of -the great Giangaleazzo. In the eyes of such men as these what claim had -Captain Francesco Sforza, _soi-disant_> Duke of Milan? He was merely a -successful soldier, the husband of the late duke’s bastard daughter, -unmentioned as heir to Milan in any testament or codicil, who by force -and famine had succeeded in imposing himself, as the alternative to -starvation, upon the miserable Milanese. In the sight of the Emperor, -Francesco Sforza had compromised whatever shadow of right he might once -have had by accepting from the illegal hand of the people the imperial -gift of his duchy. - -Before the feudal law Francesco Sforza was merely a usurper, and a -compromised usurper. To Orleans he appeared the representative of the -illegitimate branch defrauding the legal heirs of their just claims. To -Arragon, Sforza was the man who pockets treasure bequeathed expressly to -another. The humiliation of this position is apparent. Yet Sforza, with -much magnanimity, refused to ruin his subjects with taxes in order to -buy the imperial investiture—a purchasable commodity, as his successors -and his predecessors knew, and one which would have legalized his -situation. At first, in the triumph of success, he appears to have -enjoyed his illegal honours, his glory as a popular hero; and he -affirmed that he preferred to rest his claims upon the people’s voice. -On March 25, 1450, they pronounced him Duke of Milan. - -Sforza made a good ruler. Under him Milan ceased to be the prey of -miserable dissensions and disorder, and the streets no longer ran with -the cries of Guelf or Ghibelline. The soldier proved an excellent -despot; not harsh or selfish, as might have been expected from a man -sprung from so little and taught in so rude a school. He governed the -people for the good of the people, making his own gain but an accident -of their advantage; and that magnanimous and disastrous impulse which -made him refuse to tax the poor in order to purchase his investiture is -characteristic of the man. - -Yet even in Milan there were many ill content to thrive under the -orderly government of this benevolent usurper. Many voices that famine -had silenced soon began to whisper—Republicans, Orleanists, Guelfs, -Ghibellines were alike jealous and ill at ease under the military -dictatorship of Sforza. Another party in the city headed by the -Dowager-duchess still kept alive the pretensions of Savoy, and he was -able to write to Lucerne that on the whole the news from Milan was not -bad, for the people were already beginning to dislike Francesco Sforza, -and that Madame de Milan proved herself an efficient supporter of his -claims. - -But if there was discontent in Milan, outside the walls the success of -Sforza was regarded with unqualified hatred and desire for vengeance. -Savoy wished to oust him from his seat. France and Orleans and Arragon -and Germany thought it sufficient for the present to brand him as -usurper. But the hatred of the Venetians for the man who once had been -their servant was of a deeper kind, and they did not shrink from -plotting his murder. On April 22, 1450, they had already decreed his -death, and by August 26th the plan was in full train. The Council had -heard through that gentleman and soldier, Ser Giacobo Antonio Marcello -of Crema, that Vittore dei Scoraderi, the squire of Francesco, _est -contentus occidere Comitem Francescum; et sicut omnes intelligere -possunt, mors illius comitis est salus et pax nostra et totius Italiæ_. -Nothing was to be sent in writing to this person which might compromise -the Venetian Senate, but Marcello was instructed to offer him ample -terms. Further injunctions were despatched on September 2nd, and early -in December we hear again of a candidate, _una persona intelligente et -discreta_, not a Venetian subject, who promised to despatch Count -Francesco with _aliqua venenosa materies_.[82] To this intelligent -assistant the Council recommended the use of certain little round -pellets which, thrown upon the fire, exhale a most sweet and delectable -odour; but before they were despatched for experiment on so illustrious -a subject a secret trial was to be given them in Venice on the person of -a prisoner condemned to death for larceny. In May, 1451, the Council -added three other persons to the conspiracy, and by June the proffered -reward had grown to the extravagant sum of 5,000 ducats, with a yearly -revenue of 1,000 ducats in addition, and liberty to recall four exiles. -In return for so much munificence it is expected that Count Francesco -“shall by your industry be despatched before the end of October.” But in -August an extension of leave was granted until December. Then the -messages became frequent; and it is easy to divine that the noble person -who is to despatch the Count is none other than Innocentio Cotta, a man -of one of the great Guelf houses of Milan, who, despite his blue blood, -was the most ardent champion of popular rights, and who is familiar to -the readers of Corio’s history as the head and front of that little -group of _nobili audacissimi_, who in 1459, unbroken by famine and long -misery, spurred the people of Milan on to resist the arms of Sforza, and -plundered the party of the Ghibellines for money to furnish troops to -defend the city. The success of Count Francesco had added ruin to the -chagrin and hatred of this man, and one of the conditions that Cotta -demanded of the Venetians was that he should regain _quelle forteze, -terre e possessioni mie chio goldeva al tempo de la felice memoria del -duca passato_. To this man, even as to the Council, it appeared that the -death of Count Francesco could only be useful and fertile in good -(_practica non potest esse nisi utilis et fructuosa, quum ex ea nullum -damnum sequi potest_), and with the sentiments less of an assassin than -of a lofty classic tyrannicide—a character ever dear to the -Italians—Innocentio Cotta received, in his Brescian exile, the little -round and perfumed pellets of poison. - -Footnote 82: - - See the documents in Lamansky, “Secrets d’Etat de Venise,” 161, 14, - &c. - -No less than eighteen times between the August of 1448 and the December -of 1453 did the Venetian Council instigate their assistant to the deed. -Poisons were despatched to him and apparently administered. But the -venom of the Venetians was more odious than fatal. Their poisons, -sublimated from an irrational medley of volatile substances, had no -regular chemical action, and the receipts of them which remain exhibit -an incoherent confusion of mercury, sal-volatile, copperas, cantharides, -burned yeast, salts of nitre and arsenic, from which, after the endless -simmerings and powderings of their preparation, the most deadly -qualities had evaporated, and which left (according to the analysis of -Professor Boutlerow) a comparatively harmless combination of ammoniacal -chlorides. - -The sedative prescription made no perceptible effect upon the iron -constitution of the _soi-disant_ Duke of Milan. He probably remained in -total ignorance of the poison so frequently administered in the unbroken -Venice glasses; but he could not remain equally unaware of the distaste -and suspicion which environed him, and he grew to desire some superior -show of legality. The troops and bread, with which he had convinced the -Milanese, were admirable agents, but they could not do everything. -Francesco Sforza had six young sons, and in his heart there increased -that invincible longing to found a dynasty which has overcome so many -conquerors. Somewhere in the Archives, he began to think, in some -unfound testament or neglected codicil, there must be surely some -mention of his wife, the late Duke’s only child. With possession already -in its favour, the slightest mention in the old Duke’s will would serve -to legalize the dynasty of Sforza. But nowhere in will or codicil was -there any last reversion in favour of Madonna Bianca. The searchers only -brought to light the testament of Giangaleazzo, which bequeathed Milan, -failing direct male heirs, to the sons of his daughter Valentine. - -Still, if Francesco Sforza could not legalize his own succession, he -could at least secure himself against the raising of better-founded -claims. On February 19, 1452,[83] Count Francesco wrote to Andriano -Oliari of Pavia (the Oliari were a family of notaries to whom for -generations the Archives of Milan were entrusted) commanding him to come -at once to Milan and to bring with him to the palace the original will -of Giangaleazzo Visconti, - - “for [he explained], because of certain matters - which fall out at present, it is necessary that we see - the testament made by the illustrious quondam duke - the first.... Thou must come to-morrow, Sunday, - the twentieth of the present month, here, to our - presence, and bring with thee the said original will.... - And we advise thee, that for the viewing of the - said will we will deal with thee according as thou - wouldst.” - -Oliari and his father before him had been servants of the legal Dukes. -Something in the tone of Sforza’s letter, its awkward mingling of the -menace and the bribe, gave pause to the faithful notary. He had no mind -to render up so sacred a deposit to the tender mercies of this blunt old -soldier, who signed himself “Cichus” (Frank), and who was wholly without -the dignity of the legitimate tyrants. Oliari wrote back and said that -he believed a copy of the original will would be found to answer every -purpose. - -Footnote 83: - - Ghinzone, in the “Archivio Storico Lombardo,” Anno ix, Fasc. 2, 1882, - quotes the original documents from the Milanese Archives, Reg. Miss. - N. 12, foglio 40. The letters are all of the greatest interest. - -The so-called Duke of Milan was irate, and despatched a curt letter to -the suspicious and insubordinate lawyer, and by the same messenger he -sent a line to the Castellan of Pavia, informing him that Oliari had not -come, and bidding him despatch the notary at once, _cum dicto testamento -et non cum la copia_. But neither the Duke nor the constable of the -castle could induce Oliari to go back from his decision. “I really -cannot come,” he replied to Sforza on February 24th, “for I have neither -money nor horses.” Now Pavia is not so long a journey from Milan, but -that, to serve a sovereign, a man might borrow his neighbour’s hackney. -The same day, the 24th, the Duke replied in anger, both to Oliari and to -the castellan, that he could not conceive why it should be so difficult -to come at the said testament. “And forasmuch as you hold dear our -favour, and under pain of rebellion, you must be here with us to-morrow -with the said will, for if you dost not come we will make you repent -it.” Oliari dared not hold out against so ominous a command. He made in -secret five copies of the precious document, and then we may suppose -that he took the original to Sforza, for no more letters require it from -his custody. Thus the original will of Giangaleazzo Visconti was -destroyed. - -But while Sforza was stooping to a crime in order to protect himself -against the rivalry of Orleans, as a fact that pretender was less -dangerous than he had been before. However good his claim might be, his -inefficiency was a terrible counterpoise. When,[85] at the new year of -1454, Alfonso the Magnanimous wrote to Venice requesting the government -to continue their relations with Orleans, the Venetians replied that -Orleans was too far off and too unready. They were as desirous as -Arragon to get rid of the usurper. A month before they strove to enlist -Arragon in favour of their novel candidate, they had written to -Savoy,[84] asking Duke Louis to join with them in requesting the Dauphin -of France to invade Italy and suppress Francesco Sforza. They proposed -that the Dauphin should conquer the Ticinese and Piacenza for himself, -and the Duchy of Milan for the Duke of Orleans. In case the Duke was not -minded to go to this expense and danger for a cousin’s sake, the -Venetians let it be understood that any French prince would be agreeable -to them upon the throne of Milan. - -Footnote 84: - - Reg. 20, fol. 1. Secreta del Senato, MS. January 3, 1454. - -Footnote 85: - - Reg. 19, fol. 232. Secreta del Senato, MS. December 11, 1453. - - - V. - -The House of Orleans had no more dangerous enemy than the royal house of -France. Matters had greatly changed since, immediately after the -liberation of Orleans, Charles VII. had seconded his claim to the -Milanese. The reduction to insignificance of the great feudal houses in -general, and particularly the reduction of Orleans, was now the policy -of the French crown; and at that moment the policy of the already -inscrutable Dauphin appears to have been the conquest of a kingdom which -should comprise the Dauphiny, the Ticinese, Asti, the Piacentine angle -of the Emilia, and the entire stretch of Liguria. To the restless -contriver of a plan so bold the claims of Sforza and of Orleans came -equally amiss; and, in secret, the chief enemy of either credulous -pretender was the Dauphin. - -Sforza, however, had little to fear from Orleans, and less from the -French. In fact, in King Charles he found at this difficult period his -ablest friend. The records of the Archives of Milan, from the year 1452 -until the death of King Charles, abound in friendly letters, and are -evidence of the cordial relations existing not only between the Duke of -Milan and the King of France, but between the House of Sforza and the -royal Governor of Asti. In 1459 the King besought Francesco to ask the -hand of the little Princess Marie d’Orléans for his only son; but we may -presume that Orleans would not consent to so much recognition of the -usurper, for the negotiation came to nothing. Yet with the Court of -France Francesco continued on terms of affectionate friendship and -mutual respect. - -In 1453 the Dauphin still had designs on Italy, and offered to the -Venetian Signory his aid in Italy to combat Count Francesco.[86] It was -arranged that he should come with from eight to ten thousand men, -dispossess Sforza, and conquer for himself a Duchy of Milan to extend -from Adda to Ticino, from Padua beyond Piacenza. Or, if the King and the -Dauphin would guarantee the army, Venice professed herself willing to -aid the Duke of Orleans in the same undertaking. But while these princes -were arranging their future conquests, a spirit stronger than they was -making these conquests impossible—a spirit which, a score of years ago, -had begun to draw together Scotland and England, those ancient enemies, -to the alarm of France; a spirit which had estranged Burgundy and -Brittany from their English companions in so many battles, and which was -leading them to the feet of the long-despised and outraged King of -France; a spirit which now should reconcile Venice with Sforza, Florence -with Milan, and make, for a brief moment of millennium, those immemorial -foes at peace together; a spirit which awoke in these middle years of -the fifteenth century—aroused Heaven knows whence or how—and strangely -changed the world it breathed across: I have named the spirit of -Nationality. - -Footnote 86: - - “Secreta,” tome (_sic_ Reg?) xix. fol. 211, under date August 31, - 1453, quoted M. Étienne Charavay in his “Rapport sur les Lettres de - Louis XI. conservées dans les Archives d’Italie.” The following - documents from the Venetian Archives—as yet, I believe, - unpublished—form the natural sequel to this interesting letter: - - “Senato” I., Reg. 19, fol. 232, under date December 11, 1453.—The - Venetians send Venier to ask Savoy to join with them in requesting the - Dauphin to invade Italy: “Venier must ascertain the views of the Duke - of Savoy as to Sforza, since King René comes into Italy. Let him - clearly understand that Sforza is a most ambitious man, and that if he - continue to prosper as he does he will certainly turn his thoughts - towards Savoy. Venice not only intends to secure her own estate, but - for the sake of her friends and allies will as much and as resolutely - as possible repress the said Count Francesco Sforza, who may become - the Common Enemy. And to this end Venice has determined to request the - aid of France, and among others the aid of the Dauphin, asking the - said Dauphin for the common good to invade Italy with a force of from - 8,000 to 10,000 men. And we of Venice entreat Savoy to send a suitable - ambassador along with ours to persuade the said Dauphin to this - undertaking. And our intention is to grant the said Dauphin a suitable - subvention in money and whatsoever he may conquer from Adda to Ticino, - and from Padua to Piacenza, except the domains of Savoy and - Montferrat.... Let Venier then discover how many men and of what sort - and when Savoy could supply to the field.... And if my Lord Dauphin - stand out for the consent of his father, you shall offer on our part - to implore it and procure it for him. And if he wish you to go to the - King you shall go, and, as best you can, procure his consent.... And - if the said King or Dauphin say to you this undertaking regards the - Duke of Orleans, say it is true that on the death of Filippo Maria he - sent to us notifying his claims (and fain would we see a prince of the - house of France on the throne of Milan!), and saying he expected - supplies from France, and we assured him of our delight and pleasure; - and if indeed the King or the Dauphin, at your instance, will supply - the said Lord Duke with an army of from viii. thousand to x. thousand - men, we will aid and assist him upon the same terms and conditions as - my Lord the Dauphin. And go then to the Duke of Orleans and persuade - him to the enterprize.” - - Reg. 20, fol. 26, July 23, 1454.—This document concerns a League meant - to secure Italian peace by means of an offensive and defensive - alliance, against all breakers of the peace, to be made between - Venice, Milan, Florence, and Naples. Florence desires an exception in - favour of the house of France. At this Milan, much alarmed, desires - Venice by a secret and separate agreement to sign the First Clause at - least with him. Venice sends ambassadors to Florence and to Milan, - pointing out that the First Clause is absolutely necessary, since, - without it, there is no reason why the King of Arragon should enter - the League. Indeed if an exception be made in favour of France, it - will only and justly irritate him, and thus the alliance would bring - rather discord than peace into the Peninsula. No specific mention need - be made of the house of France, to which Venice entertains the most - friendly feelings. But if the First Clause were signed and Arragon - induced to enter the League Italy might look forward to many years of - peace and tranquillity. - - Reg. 20, fol. 103, October 8, 1456.—The Marquis of Varese, ambassador - to the Duke of Milan, informs the Venetians that the Doge of - Genoa—notwithstanding his open alliance with France and apparent - subjection to her—has made a second and secret alliance with Arragon - and Milan, in which Venice is prayed to join, against the French. The - Venetians reply that, owing to the mutability and diversity of Genoese - affairs, it is impossible to give any solid advice. - - Reg. 21, fol. 21, October 10, 1465.—The descendants of Valentine - Visconti—_i.e._, the Dukes of Orleans and Brittany and the Count of - Angoulême—sent secret ambassadors to Venice to treat concerning the - recovery of the Duchy of Milan from the hands of Count Francesco - Sforza. Venice replies with compliments, but expresses herself - desirous to keep the peace. - - Reg. 22, fol. 176, July 28, 1466.—French ambassadors have been - received at Venice from Louis XI., King of France. Venice assures him - of her excellent disposition towards the new Duke of Milan as well as - of her “antiqua benivolentia” towards his father. Venice believes a - resumption of the Italian League is not at that moment necessary, - extols King Louis for his intention to proceed against the Turk, and - congratulates him on the quiet of his realm. - - The Latin originals of these documents will be included in the volume - of “Pièces Justificatives,” for my History of the French in Italy, - 1378-1530. - -At Christmas-time in 1453 the Venetians spared neither pains nor prayers -nor promise to induce the Dauphin to come and suppress Count Francesco -Sforza. In April of the next year[89] they sent to tell him, as -delicately as possible, that they had no further need of his services (a -refined way of informing him that they would oppose him), since they had -made peace with the man whom four months ago they had called the Common -Enemy of his countrymen, and whom they had so many times endeavoured to -assassinate. And probably the Dauphin was not sorry. For the spirit that -animated these Italians inspired him also. Already it had touched his -intelligent and sensitive spirit. Already, in 1447,[88] he had laughed -for joy when the French lost Genoa, and had declared “le Roy se -gouvernoit si mal qu’on ne pouvoit pis.” In the five years between 1445 -and 1450 the Dauphin had passed from the friendship of Orleans to the -friendship of Burgundy, and his ideal had changed. He raged to see the -King prefer Italy to the north, and amuse himself with taking Genoa and -securing Asti when he should have set to conquering Normandy. He said -aloud that the true place for such a King as that was in such a -Hermitage as the Duke of Savoy’s. He plotted to seize the government of -affairs himself, and leave the King, in prosperous desuetude, to amuse -himself with his Belle Agnès and his pleasures. As we know, the plot -fell through, and the impatient Dauphin, a discomfited fugitive, was -himself the one to seek a hermitage at the Court of Burgundy. There he -spent five years of chafing exile and mortification while his father -ruled France, not unsuccessfully, after his own fashion, pursuing -shadows indeed in Italy, yet at home administering affairs and inventing -a regular army with no less zeal and skill for this extraneous ambition. -Louis was still at the Court of Philip of Burgundy when, in 1461, he -heard the news of his father’s death. And the prince who, of all others, -should do most for the reintegration of his country ascended the throne -of France.[87] - -Footnote 87: - - Reg. 20, fol. 17, April 26, 1454.—“Ordre à Francesco Veniero de - prévenir le dauphin, avec tous les ménagements possible, qu’ils ont - faiz la paix avec Francesco Sforza et qu’ils n’ont plus besoin de ses - services” (Charavay, _loc. cit._). - -Footnote 88: - - Quoted by the Marquis de Beaucourt, iv. p. 244, from the “Procès de - Mariette.” - -Footnote 89: - - “Procès de Mariette” in the Preuves de Matthieu d’Escouchy, p. 290. - See Marquis de Beaucourt, “Histoire de Charles VII.,” pp. 207 _et - seq._ - -As we know, the law of historic necessity required that the Dauphin -should renounce his ambition of a North Italian state—he had, in fact, -already renounced it; that he should abandon his early visions and his -early friends, and adopt for his counsellors the very men who once had -ruined him. Henceforth he must bend the whole strength of his spirit to -the furthering of that policy which he had so long, and at so great a -sacrifice, resisted and attempted to destroy. The interests of the time -required that France should forego all ambitions foreign to herself in -order to consolidate herself; that she should sacrifice the south in -order to insure the north; that she should also sacrifice the -aristocracy to the people; and Louis XI., who, as a prince, had paid so -dear for his adherence to the rights of the nobles, became the monarch -who more than any other was governed by men of low and base -condition—who more than any other oppressed and resisted the pride of -feudalism. Those who had been his friends became his enemies; those -likewise who had been his enemies became his friends. Francesco Sforza, -from whom he had been so eager to take his duchy, became the one man -alive whom he admired and respected. Yes, this successful captain of -adventure, who for years had prevented him in Milan, in Naples, and in -Genoa, who once had been the chief stumbling-block in the path of the -Dauphin, became the corner-stone of the policy of the King. Like -Catherine de’ Medici, like Rodrigo Borgia, like most unscrupulous -rulers, there was something oddly magnanimous in the moral indifference -of Louis IX. Sforza never suffered for his enmity of yore. The new King -of France was a being as destitute of rancour as devoid of gratitude. - -With Savoy, Orleans, Dunois, and Anjou the new king was ill-disposed to -treat. He had learned the secret of their intrigues and their ambitions. -On May 10, 1463, he wrote to Sforza that he was content to come to an -understanding with Milan, if Milan would utterly disavow Savoy. This -conspirator, versed since boyhood in all the dismal ins and outs of -treachery, was too well aware of the tricks of his confederates.[90] It -still might be possible that his enemies were honest. They at least were -the only people he could trust; and more than any other he confided in -Francesco Sforza. In December, 1463, he made to the _de facto_ Duke of -Milan the significant cession of the French claim to Genoa.[91] He also -arranged for the cession of Savona. Negotiations were even begun for -yielding Asti to Francesco Sforza; but the inhabitants declared that -they would stand by the house of Orleans. - -Footnote 90: - - March 14, 1451, Amédée of Savoy had promised to assist the Dauphin - against all, “even against the King of France” (Charavay, _l. c._ p. - 34). This had a different aspect after Louis’ coronation. - -Footnote 91: - - Dumont, iii. ccxxviii. - -At first the cousins of the King could not believe that he had actually -abandoned them—he who had begun his career as the pupil of Dunois, and -had suffered so long as the champion of the nobles. So late as October -10, 1465, the descendants of Valentine Visconti sent a very secret -embassy to Venice[92] to propose to the Ten a league between their -government and the Duke of Orleans, the Count of Angoulême, and the Duke -of Brittany, for the purpose of ousting the usurper, Count Francesco, -and delivering the Duchy of Milan to Charles of Orleans. This league, -which could not be confirmed by the Pope, a political adversary, might, -it was suggested, be headed by the King of France. Probably the -Venetians were better informed as to the real intentions of Louis XI. -Certainly they knew that it was too late or too early to dream of -dislodging the Sforzas from Milan. They replied that they loved the -house of France, but that peace also was dear to them: they begged to be -excused from attacking Count Francesco. - -Footnote 92: - - Secreta del Senato, MS. Reg. 21, folio 21. - -After this for many years the house of Orleans ceased to struggle. -Before the year was out Charles of Orleans was dead, and the French -pretender to the crown of Milan was only an infant, three years old. -Before the child was six Dunois was also dead. Dunois—who had not -suffered the children of his adoptive mother to be cheated of their -inheritance in Asti—would, had he lived, have instructed his nephew in -the details of his claim to Milan. But Louis II. of Orleans, born in his -father’s seventy-second year, was naturally doomed to lose in infancy -his father’s contemporaries. As the child grew up every link was severed -that might have bound him to the past, and he knew little or nothing of -the pretensions of his house. His mother, who had a romantic worship for -the memory of Valentine Visconti, related to her son many a legend of -the quasi-royal power which during the last century his ancestors -possessed. But that supremacy seemed at an end for ever. In France, in -Italy, the star of Orleans suffered a long eclipse. By his own -experience in rebellion Louis XI. was aware how dangerous to the Crown -and how disastrous to the kingdom was the power of the great feudal -houses. Alençon and Armagnac and many another he diminished by -confiscation and captivity; Dunois, Bourbon, Saint-Vallier, Sancerre, he -attached to the Crown by royal marriages. Kinship in subjection, -independence in imprisonment: these were the two alternatives presented -by the King to the nobles of France. Among the most unfortunate of those -who accepted the former gift was the young Louis d’Orléans. Louis XI. -had decided that with this young man the house of Orleans should end; -and when its representative was eleven years of age, the King married -him to Jeanne of France, a gentle girl, deformed, incapable of -offspring, and so ugly that when she was brought to court for her -wedding the king himself exclaimed: _Je ne la croyais pas si laide_. To -this bride the young duke was married in 1473. “They will have no -expense with a nursery,” wrote the malicious King to Dammartin: _ils -n’auraient guères à besoigner et nourrir les enfans qui viendraient du -dit mariage: mais toutefois se feroit-il_. - -Meanwhile the six sons of Sforza had grown to manhood; and the eldest -ruled in Milan, accepted, by the mere fact of his unchallenged -succession, as the lawful inheritor of his father’s duchy. - - - VI. - -When Louis II. of Orleans had reached the age of twenty he was the best -archer, the most dexterous horseman, the most adroit and brilliant -man-at-arms about the Court of France. He was handsome, fond of the -arts, and well instructed. He had an engaging manner, gentle, gracious, -and benign. A brave and eager cavalier, he was ready for adventures; but -a strong hand kept him down, a hand whose cruel restraint was never -lifted from that audacious brow. Suddenly the pressure ceased: the hand -was gone; on August 30, 1483, King Louis died. - -He was succeeded by a child of fourteen, an ugly, ignorant youth, who -had grown up neglected in the castle of Amboise, far from the Court, -alone with his gentle forsaken mother, Charlotte of Savoy, who had -taught him the only thing she knew, the plots of innumerable romances of -chivalry. For Louis XI., partly afraid of injuring the delicate -constitution of his only heir, and partly remembering his own dangerous -and rebellious childhood, denied any solid education to his son. He -never saw the boy, leaving him for years at a time to grow up as best he -might alone with his mother at Amboise. “Let the body grow strong -first,” said the King; “the mind will look to itself.” And, according to -tradition, the sole food that he provided for the eager mind of his son -was one single Latin maxim: _Qui nescit dissimulare nescit regnare_. -This was all the Latin that was taught to Charles VIII., and on this -solitary morsel of classic attainment he was never known to act. Louis -XI., for all his subtlety, had forgotten that by simply withholding one -sort of education you cannot insured vacuity. The child at Amboise knew -nothing of history, nothing of geography, nothing of the classics. But -his mind was stuffed with the deeds of Roland and Ogier, and the beauty -of _La belle dame sans merci_. Suddenly one summer day, unwonted -messengers knocked at the gates of Amboise; they fetched the child away -to see an old, misshapen, suspicious man, whom he did not know—who was -his father. The next day Charles VIII. was king of France under the -regency of his married sister, Anne de Bourbon. Madame Anne inherited -her father’s dislike and distrust of Orleans; but her sister was his -wife and adored him, and her brother, the king, admired him. She did her -best to repress Orleans in France; but her hand, though firm, had not -the solidity of her father’s. Orleans grew and expanded. - -Just at this moment Venice was in sore distress. Almost every power in -Italy was against her, and she turned for help to France. On January 16, -1484, she sent Antonio Loredan to Charles VIII., complaining of the -aggressions of Naples, Milan, and Ferrara, and desiring a resumption of -the Franco-Venetian league of Louis XI. That league had been a very tame -and passive piece of policy; the Venetians hoped a bolder favour from a -younger king. Loredan was bidden to insist upon the suggestion that the -kingdom of Naples occupied by Ferdinand of Arragon, belonged in fact to -France.[95] “Nor content with that,” run the instructions of the Senate, -“this king it was who instigated Lodovico Sforza to the usurpation of -Milan.” Lodovico il Moro,[94] the fourth son of Count Francesco Sforza, -had, as a matter of fact, usurped the position of his nephew in 1481, -and, though nominally regent, conducted himself as Duke of Milan. But -this intrusion was not the seizure which now the Venetians meant to -blame. They wished to suggest, as the lawful claimant, not the young son -of Galeazzo Sforza, but the Duke of Orleans. - -“Express to the Duke of Orleans in secret our desire for his exaltation -[run the instructions given to Loredan], and explain to him how good is -the opportunity for him to recover the Duchy of Milan, which belongs to -him by right; and how his claim would be favoured by the differences and -dissidences at present existing between ourselves and Milan, as also by -the discontent of the Milanese with their tyrants. Inform the Duke that -Lodovico Sforza aspires to seize the sovereignty for himself, amid the -murmurs of his people, and that he will certainly massacre all who -uphold the claim of the Duchess Bona. Inflame and excite as best you can -the Duke of Orleans to pursue this enterprise, ... and if the French -should choose to make good their claim to Naples as against the tyrant -Ferdinand, they could not find a better time than now.”[93] - -Footnote 93: - - MSS. Secreta del Senato, Reg. 31, fol. 123, tergo. - -Footnote 94: - - Many reasons have been given for the assumption of this surname. As a - fact it appears to have been a baptismal name. In February, 1461, - Bianca Maria Sforza sent to the shrine of the Santo at Padua the - silver image of a child, _ex voto_ for the recovery of her fourth son, - Ludovicus Maurus, _filius quartus masculus_, aged five years. - (“Archivio Storico Lombardo,” Anno xiii; Caffi on B.M. Sforza.) - -Footnote 95: - - Reg. 31, fol. 131, tergo. - -This is the programme of the great invasions of 1494 and 1500; but the -times were not yet ripe. On February 4th the Ten despatched a second -missive to the Duke of Orleans,[96] instigating him to the speedy -conquest of Milan, and offering him the entire Venetian army for this -service. The young Duke appears to have taken these proposals very -seriously, and the project created some disturbance and quarrelling at -Court. But the Venetians were incapable of any sustained policy in -foreign affairs; to serve Venice in the way that at the moment appeared -most advantageous was their only aim, and thus their attitude was one of -constant unrest. In August they made peace with Naples and Milan, and -sent word to Orleans that they were glad to hear that all disunion was -at an end between him and the King. The same thing had happened in -Italy. Peace had set in under the happiest auspices, and a fraternal -affection united the King of Naples and the Regent of Milan with the -Venetian Senate. - -Footnote 96: - - Reg. 32, fol. 87. - -So ended the project for a French succession. Louis of Orleans, thwarted -of his foreign ambition, strove for greatness at home, and contested the -regency with Anne of Bourbon. The civil war, the flight into Brittany, -the pretensions of Louis to the hand of his beautiful cousin (the -heiress to that duchy), the defeat of the Orleanist troops at -Saint-Aubin on July 28, 1488, and the three years’ captivity of the -Duke, are matters of common knowledge. But as Charles VIII. grew out of -the tutelage of his sister, more and more he grew to favour his -imprisoned cousin. There was little to fear from him now that the King -was a major, and Anne of Brittany the Queen of France. In 1491 the Duke -was released; and when in 1494 Charles at the head of his troops invaded -Italy, Louis of Orleans preceded him across the mountains, chief in -command, master of the fleet, destined to drive the Neapolitans from -Genoa, and thence to lead the fleet of France into the port of Naples. - - - VII. - -The invasion of Italy by Charles VIII. appeared, even to contemporaries, -a miracle. The young King, ill advised, without generals, without money, -with the impromptu army of a moment’s whim, traversed hostile Italy as -glorious as Charlemagne. Charlemagne, in fact, was the true leader of -his forces: for that glorious phantom marched before him, filling with -dread the hearts of the enemy, and blinding them to the actual penury of -the invader. With the events of that romantic campaign we have no -business at this moment, for, notwithstanding his commission to lead the -fleet to Naples, the Duke of Orleans did not go south of Lombardy. While -Orleans was gaining the battle of Rapallo, suddenly the King arrived at -Asti. It was Sept. 9th, a malarious season. Across the wide plain, the -marshy fields of Lombardy, Orleans galloped, fresh from victory, to a -council with the King. He had scarcely arrived at Asti when Charles fell -ill of the small-pox. The attack was slight, and within a fortnight he -recovered. But the very day the King began to mend, Orleans sickened of -a quartan ague, and when his cousin was well again and ready, on Oct. -6th, to set out for Naples, Orleans was still unfit to take the road. He -sent his company south with the royal troops, and with a handful of -squires and servants remained behind in his hereditary county of Asti, -among the subjects who had loved his father, and who had served himself, -far-off, unseen, through years of peril and intrigue, with as devoted -and chivalrous a spirit of loyalty as ever the highlanders of Jacobite -Scotland dedicated to an absent Stuart. - -Sforza and Orleans were now the nearest neighbours, bound to each other -by their interest in the King. Fate has seldom brought about more ironic -complication. When Lodovico Sforza, out of revenge and anger towards -King Ferdinand, had revived the French claim to Naples, and had -instigated Charles to enter Italy, he had not foreseen the accident that -left the Duke of Orleans within a league or two of Milan. Charles VIII. -entered Italy as the friend and guest of Lodovico il Moro, the Regent of -Milan. To the external and uninitiated world the French claim to the -duchy appeared about as actual as the claim of the English kings to -France. Lodovico il Moro, familiar with the France of Louis XI., knew -that the claims of Orleans were not likely to be countenanced by the -throne. - -The present is never clear to us. Its Archives, its Secreta, are not -given over to our perusal. Lodovico il Moro was probably uninstructed in -that secret policy of the Venetian Senate which, in 1483, had so -strongly urged the half-forgotten rights of Orleans. But we, familiar -with those silent manuscripts, are not surprised to find that no sooner -had the King gone south than Venice and Florence began to interfere with -Orleans. The very day the King left Asti,[97] a secret messenger from -Piero de’ Medici entered the city. His errand was to Orleans. In their -desire to stop the progress of Charles VIII., and in their hatred of -Lodovico who had invoked the stranger, the Italian princes proposed to -offer Milan to the French in place of Naples. Orleans himself suggested, -unknown to his chivalrous young cousin, that the King would be satisfied -if Ferdinand would pay him homage for Naples, and, besides a war -indemnity, a yearly pension such as the kings of France pay to England. -For himself, and as a just fine on Lodovico, he intimated that the Duchy -of Milan might be divided between the houses of Orleans and Sforza. But -as time went on, and the arms of France were everywhere successful, he -grew bolder in his demands, and “Milan for the heir of the Visconti” was -his cry. - -Footnote 97: - - The messenger left Florence Oct. 3, 1494. See for further details of - these schemes the first vol. of Desjardins’ “Nég. dip. dans la - Toscane.” - -But Charles, ignorant of the intrigues of Orleans and Florence, of -Venice and of Sforza (who also for his private ends wished the King to -keep this side the Apennines), crossed the southern range as he had -crossed the Alps, and by the new year he was in Rome. Then, afraid of -the French success, the Italians began to draw back from their -conspiracy with Orleans. They had wished the French to take Milan -instead of Naples, but Milan as well as Naples was too much. - - - VIII. - -When the French had entered Italy, Orleans had had no legal rival to his -claim, unless, indeed, the Emperor be called his rival. To the people of -Lombardy, oppressed by taxes, hating their tyrant, he appeared as the -rightful heir, the last of the Visconti. Round the history of a past not -yet remote there had grown a mist through which all things appeared of -vague, heroic, and mysterious proportions, of which the King Arthur, the -legendary glory, was the first duke—“Saint Giangaleazzo,” as one of the -brothers of Pavia called him in the presence of Commines. “This saint of -yours,” cried the amused historian, “was a great and wicked, though most -honourable, tyrant.” “That may be,” said the brother; “we call him saint -because he did good to our order.” - -This was also the feeling of the Milanese, for whom Giangaleazzo had -invented security and peace, for whom he had conquered immense -possessions. They forgot his sins, his crimes, and the first duke became -the hero of the place. To be the last descendant of this man seemed in -itself a claim to inherit his possessions, to sit in his place, to expel -the usurper. While this was their feeling, in October the usurper died. - -Giangaleazzo Sforza, Duke of Milan, a youth of five-and-twenty, kept in -prison by his uncle, the Regent Lodovico, died no less suspiciously than -the little princes in the Tower. He left behind him a son four years -old, his legitimate successor. But, with ominous prevision, a year -before this time, Lodovico the regent had negotiated with the Emperor to -obtain the reversion of the duchy. He had admitted that his father, his -brother, his nephew were no more than illegal usurpers: moreover they -had prejudiced the rights of the empire by receiving their titles only -from the people. Thus the infant son of Giangaleazzo was the son, not -merely of a usurper, but of a man who had forfeited whatever rights he -originally had. Conceding this, Lodovico besought the Emperor, of his -free grace and bounty, to bestow the duchy on himself and his -descendants, even as once before an emperor had bestowed Milan upon a -man who had no legal claim—namely, on Giangaleazzo Visconti. Maximilian -consented, and on Sept. 5, 1494, the Imperial letters of promise[98] -were despatched from Antwerp, letters for which the Regent paid the sum -of 100,000 ducats. - -Footnote 98: - - The copy is to be found in Corio, 457-59. I do not know where to find - the original document, but MSS. copies, evidently from the Archives of - Pavia, are to be found among the British Museum documents, Additional - MSS., 30, 675. Giovio mentions a report that after the death of - Francesco Sforza II., Count Massimiliano Sforza found the deed and - restored it to the Emperor. Lodovico il Moro ever insisted that he - received Milan, not by succession, but direct from the Emperor. He - called himself the fourth, and not the seventh, duke. - -This document, kept in the deepest privacy, can have arrived in Milan -but a few days before Giangaleazzo died. Every one believed that the -young man had died of poison. It was a piteous thing. But the son of the -murdered man was only four years old; and the French were in -Lombardy—the guests of Lodovico. “To be short,” says Commines, “Lodovico -had himself declared Duke of Milan, and that, as I think, was his only -end in bringing us across the mountains.” Terrorised by the presence of -the French, the people hailed the Regent as their duke, “and crying -_Duca! Duca!_” (wrote Corio), “and having robed him in the ducal mantle, -they set him on horseback, and he rode to the temple, the men of his -faction proclaiming him the while, and they set the joy-bells ringing, -while all this time the dead body of Giangaleazzo was lying still -unburied in the great cathedral.” - -Conscious of the secret diploma in his pocket, Lodovico could enjoy the -pleasure of this ceremony with a feeling of security. Yet his crown did -not sit quite smoothly on his brows. Orleans in Asti was assuming an -intolerable air of patronage. And behind that thin row of partisans -shouting with their hired voices, “_Duca! Duca!_” there was a sullen, -silent crowd. Those, and the rest of Italy, believed that Lodovico had -poisoned the father in order to usurp the inheritance of the child, -Francesco. Of the three pretenders, by far the most popular was the -unconscious infant, who bore so quaintly in his mother’s arms the -beloved and redoubtable name of his grandfather, the great condottiere. -“Nearly all the Milanese,” wrote Commines, “would have revolted to the -King had he only followed Trivulzio’s advice and set up the arms of the -child-duke.” But Charles refused to injure the claims of his cousin of -Orleans. - -Meanwhile the relations between the French and Lodovico were growing -difficult and strained. The presence of Orleans in Asti, the miraculous -success of Charles, inspired the Duke of Milan with the bitterest regret -that ever he had called his allies across the mountains. He had used -them as a weapon, and now their use had passed. When, on Feb. 27, 1495, -he heard the news that the French had entered Naples, he simulated every -sign of joy. But while the bells were still ringing in the steeples, he -drew aside the Venetian envoy. “I have had bad news,” he whispered. -“Naples is lost. Let us form a league against the common enemy.” - -This was in the end of February. During the next month there was much -secret business in the diplomatic world. Ever since the entry of the -French into Rome the great powers had looked unkindly on the triumph of -Charles VIII. The Emperor beheld with dismay the alliance of Ghibelline -Milan and the Ghibelline Colonna with the King of France. The Pope -believed with reason that France, the Colonna, and the Savelli might -depose a pontiff so unpopular as Alexander VI. Ferdinand and Isabella -declared that the intention of Charles was nothing less than to make -himself the king of Italy and then proceed to conquer Spain. So likely -did it seem that this ungainly, limping, ill-instructed youth might -justify the name he had assumed—_Carolus Octavus, Secundus Magnus_. - -At Venice in the dead of the night the secret council used to meet. -There, with the Venetian Senate, the ambassadors of Germany, Castile and -Arragon, and Milan conferred together. They were negotiating a league to -expel the French from Italy. On March 31st, while Charles was still shut -in the Neapolitan trap, the quintuple alliance was proclaimed. The last -name among the allies was the name of the man who had called Charles -into Italy, now given for the first time among his equals his new -dignity of Duke of Milan. Lodovico hastened to legalize this official -recognition. In May the Imperial privilege, formally promised in the -preceding autumn, arrived at Milan. In presence of the Imperial envoys -the privilege was read aloud at Lodovico’s solemn coronation. - - - IX. - -Lodovico had sprung a disagreeable surprise upon the Duke of Orleans, -for his title, derived directly from Maximilian, was now as good as that -of Giangaleazzo Visconti himself. To conquer Milan by arms, to force the -Emperor into revoking the privilege of 1495, to induce him to grant a -new one confirming the Visconti succession—this was the only course that -remained to Orleans. - -Secret as the Council had been at Venice, it had not escaped the notice -of Commines, who wrote in March to Orleans bidding him look to the walls -of Asti, and sent a messenger to Bourbon in France bidding him despatch -a reinforcement to the scanty force of Orleans. The young Duke at Asti -was not sorry to receive the message. He had now been six months in -Lombardy; he had done nothing; and he was eager to come to battle with -Lodovico. To all the French, by this time, Il Moro appeared a traitor -and a secret poisoner. To Louis of Orleans he appeared all this and also -the usurper of his inheritance. - -Great were the pomp and beauty of Milan in the year 1495, humbled as yet -by no centuries of foreign servitude, ruined by no battles and untouched -by time. Wonderful in the fresh whiteness of its stately cathedral; -delicate with the unblurred beauty of the new frescoes by Lionardo; rich -with statuary, broken now and lost for ever; gay with the clear fine -moulding of its rose-red palaces, Milan in the rich plain was a fountain -of wealth to its possessor. When Orleans beheld this earthly paradise of -the Renaissance, his claim to Milan, which had been at first but a -shadowy pretension, took certainty and substance in his mind. And as the -attention of the young man was drawn to his Visconti ancestors, and to -the marriage of his grandfather with the daughter of the Duke of Milan, -he and his counsellors began to reconstruct the half-forgotten title -that he had to Milan. - -No one was very clear as to the point. The ducal secretaries found -themselves compelled to suppose, to invent. Nicole Gilles, the chief of -them, declared that Filippo Maria Visconti had married Madame Bonne, -daughter of King John of France (a lady who had she existed, would have -been a good forty years older than her husband), by whom he had two -girls, Valentine, who married the Duke of Orleans, and Bonne, who -married the lord of Montauban in Brittany. Besides these he had a -bastard child, Bianca Maria, the wife of Sforza. - -This is perhaps the clearest of these singular genealogies _pour rire_. -Louis was glad to escape from their confusion and bewilderment to the -plain issues of the field of battle. There seemed a good chance for him. -Lodovico was so hated by his subjects[99] that they would welcome almost -any change. Almost at the same moment that Piacenza offered herself to -King Charles if he would undertake to support the child Francesco, the -cities of Milan, Pavia, and Novara were secretly practising with -Orleans, and Commines declares he would have been received in Milan with -greater rejoicings than in his town of Blois. - -Footnote 99: - - “Era molto odiato dai popoli a cagione dei denari.”—“Bello Gallico,” - i. p. 176. - -On April 17th Lodovico il Moro insolently summoned Orleans to quit Asti -and cross the Alps again with all his men. Thanks to the warning of -Commines, Orleans already had fortified the town. - -“This place,” he replied,[100] “and its dependent castles are a part of -my inheritance, and to put them in other hands, and to go away and leave -my own possessions, is a thing that I never meant to do. Tell your -master,” he added to the messenger, “that he will find me ready for -combat, either waiting for him here or going forth to meet him on the -field of battle. I have received a commission from the King, and it is -my intention to fulfil it.” - -Footnote 100: - - For this letter, and for the letters of Orleans to Bourbon, quoted - from the Library of St. Petersburg, _vide_ vol. ii. of Cherrier’s - “Histoire de Charles VIII.,” p. 184, _et seq._ - -Unfortunately, the real commission that Orleans had received from his -cousin was to keep quiet and on no account to break the peace (for the -league was defensive, and did not menace the royal troops if they -retired without offence) until Charles and his diminished army had -arrived at Asti. They would be in imminent peril if any rash act of -Orleans should let loose upon them, amid the bewildering passes of the -mountains, the eager concourse of their vigilant enemies. But Orleans -did not remember this. He was burning for personal conflict with his -rival, indignant at his treachery, and persuaded that he could easily -secure the whole of Lombardy to France. Thrice in April he wrote to -Bourbon entreating succour. “Only send me the reinforcements at once, -and I think I shall do the King a service that men will talk of many a -year.” The forces came; and Orleans saw himself the master of 5,000 -foot, 100 archers, 1,300 men-at-arms or thereabouts, and two fine pieces -of artillery.[101] He was aware that Lodovico was so out-at-elbows that -he could not pay his army. He knew the discontent of Lombardy. He felt -himself so much older and wiser than the King that he found it hard to -obey his commands. His secret practice with the nobles of the Lombard -cities informed him that all was ripe for a sudden stroke. On the last -night of May, in the safety of the dark, twenty men-at-arms under Jean -de Louvain rode out from Asti across the Lombard plain, until at -daybreak on June 1st they reached the gate of San Stefano at Novara. The -gate was opened to them by the factors of the Opicini, two nobles of the -place; the citizens ran out to meet the French; the handful of Sforzesco -troops within the town barred themselves in the citadel. By June 13th, -Orleans, with the flower - -Footnote 101: - - This is the Venetian estimate. Guicciardini says, 300 lances, 3,000 - Swiss, and 3,000 Gascons. - -No sooner was he there than, first Pavia, then Milan, offered to receive -him. He ought to have gone at once, before the armies of his enemies -could encircle him in Novara. But his whole soul was invaded by a deep -distrust of the Italians. It seemed safer to temporise until the royal -troops came up. Long before these could possibly arrive, on June 22nd, -the Venetians protected Milan with 1,000 Grecian stradiots, 2,000 foot, -1,000 cuirassiers.[102] It was now impossible to take Milan, which a -little boldness might easily have gained. It was impossible even to -evacuate Novara. And when, after many difficulties heroically overcome, -the little army of Charles arrived in Asti on July 27th, sorely in need -of rest and of refreshment, a new and arduous task awaited it; for -Orleans and his soldiers were perishing of hunger in besieged Novara. - -Footnote 102: - - This is the Venetian estimate. For the figures of Giovio and Corio, - see Cherrier, ii. 197. - - - X. - -Commines has set dramatically before us the division between the army -and the council of the King. He himself warmly espoused the cause of the -army, which frankly declared a battle impossible against such -overwhelming odds: unless reinforcements arrived from Switzerland, -Orleans must be released by composition from Novara. But the council -insisted on an immediate engagement. The soldiers commonly said that -Orleans had promised Briçonnet an income of 10,000 crowns for his son, -if Milan should still be gained and the siege of Novara raised. The -Swiss did not come; the army was too small. In September there began to -be a serious talk of peace. On the 26th of that month, Orleans and his -army were released by composition from Novara. Over 2,000 of them had -died of hunger, and many fell by the roadside from sheer weakness and -died there as they lay. (Commines found fifty of them dying in a garden, -and saved their lives by a timely mess of pottage.) Most of those who -lived to reach the camp perished of the dangerous abundance. More than -three hundred of their wasted corpses were cast upon the dunghills of -Vercelli. - -This was a heavy price to pay for one man’s disobedient ambition. All -the harder did it seem to buy nothing with so great expense. There were -many who were still unwilling for peace. Orleans had endeared himself to -his troops by his conduct during the hunger of Novara, where he had -fared and fasted like any common man-at-arms, setting aside the ducal -mess for the use of the sick in hospital. His mess-fellows were willing -still to die for him. By an ironic turn of fate, on the very day on -which the army evacuated Novara, 20,000 Swiss came to the relief of the -king. With such a reinforcement as this, cried Orleans, Ligny, D’Amboise -and their men, Charles might not only conquer Milan, but make himself -master of the whole of Italy. But the negotiations for peace already -were begun; Novara was lost; the French soldiers were few and much -enfeebled; and it was rumoured that the Swiss meant no less than to -capture King Charles with all his nobles, carry them off into the -impregnable fastness of the Alps, and then exact a fabulous ransom for -their liberty. - -The King thought it best to dismiss at once these dangerous allies, and -take his homesick soldiers back to France. On Oct. 10th peace was -concluded. The king promised—on condition that Lodovico Sforza renounced -all claim to Asti, made no obstacle to the relief of the French in -Naples, and paid to Orleans a war indemnity of 50,000 ducats—not to -sustain his cousin’s right to Milan. Orleans was enraged and -disappointed. In secret he negotiated for the support of the Swiss -captains, and with these and with 800 of his men-at-arms he meant to -march from Vercelli upon Milan. But the night before he was to leave, -when all was ready, suddenly he demanded the consent of the King. -Charles refused to sanction this breach of the peace, and bade his -cousin join the army in marching back to France. By Nov. 7th Orleans, -none the richer for his endeavours, was with the King at Lyons. - -A little more than a year after this the King would gladly have sent his -cousin of Orleans to conquer Milan: it was the Duke who made excuses and -would not go. For soon after the French returned to France, the Dauphin -died. Charles, who had inherited that terrible distrust of his own -children from which he had suffered in his father, did not greatly -mourn, or so at least Commines assures us. But if the quickness of a -little child of three—his own son—had given him concern, much more did -he dread his new heir, the Duke of Orleans. The queen, bewailing the -loss of her child, had fallen into a lamentable melancholy, and Charles, -with an absurd idea of cheering the poor mother, ordered a masque of -gentlemen to dance before her. Orleans was among them, and he danced to -such purpose, with such lightness of heart and heel, such buoyancy and -gladness, that the sorrowing queen was seriously offended; and Charles -himself determined, if possible, to send his cheerful heir a little -further from the throne. - -An opportunity soon offered. Florence, faithful against all the world to -France, sent to the King at Amboise, asking him to come and uproot the -Sforza out of Milan. She offered to furnish 800 men-at-arms and 5,000 -footmen at her own cost. The cardinal of St. Peter in Vinculis, the -Orsini, Bentivoglio of Bologna, Este of Ferrara, Gonzaga of Mantua, all -had promised to hire their forces to the King. Genoa was to be conquered -by Trivulzio while Orleans marched on Milan. The plan of campaign was -settled, the troops were all drawn up, Trivulzio had already entered -Italy with 6,000 infantry and 800 men-at-arms, when, on the very night -of his departure, Orleans suddenly abandoned his post. On his own -private quarrel, he declared, he could not and he would not go; as the -King’s lieutenant, and at his express command, he was ready to -depart—not otherwise. “I would never force him to the wars against his -will,” exclaimed Charles, and, though for many days the Florentine -ambassadors besought him to exercise the authority of the throne, he -refused to interfere with Orleans. “Thus was the voyage dashed,” relates -Commines, “spite of great charges and all our friends in a readiness. -And this was done to the King’s great grief, for Milan being once won, -Naples would have yielded of itself.” - -What, then, had happened to change the mind of Orleans—Orleans, -disobedient at Novara, and disobedient again to-day for so opposite a -reason? “He shunned this enterprise,” continues our historian, “because -he saw the King ill-disposed of his body, whose heir he should be if he -died.” “He would not go,” relates Guicciardini, “for he saw that the -King was ill, and to himself belonged the succession of the crown.” - -Just a year after this, on the morning of Palm Sunday (April 8, 1498), -Louis of Orleans, fallen into a sort of undetermined half-disgrace, was -standing at a window in his house at Blois, when he saw in the street -some soldiers of the royal guard, running quickly. “God save the King!” -they cried; “Vive le roi Louis XII.!” This was the first King Louis -heard of the sudden death of his cousin. The day before, Charles VIII. -had fallen down, suddenly stricken to death, as he and his wife were -watching a game of tennis from the gallery at Amboise. - - - XI. - -The French claimant to Milan was now the King of France. From this -moment the pretensions of Orleans became a factor in European history. -The plans of the first Duke of Milan went so grievously astray, that, -instead of France and Germany each holding the other in check, for half -a century their armies occupied the soil of Lombardy, nor, when they -withdrew, was the land left at peace, but, baffled and paralyzed, the -helpless prey of Spain. - -This Iliad is too important to be contained within the slender limits of -an essay. We can but briefly indicate the events which developed and -then extinguished the right of the French to Milan. Conquered in 1499, -by Louis XII. of France, Lombardy remained for five and twenty years an -intermittent province of that kingdom, continually revolting, -continually reconquered. During this time several privileges and -investitures, extracted from the Emperor, confirmed the victories of -France, and annulled the claims of Lodovico Sforza. These investitures -are worthy of at least our brief consideration, since, from the moment -of their bestowal, the French claim to Milan, already emphasised by the -rights of heredity, testamentary bequest, and contract, received the -final sanction of the feudal law. - -The first of these Imperial investitures was bestowed on King Louis XII. -by the hand of Maximilian on April 7, 1505.[103] It secured the Duchy of -Milan (_non obstante priore investitura illustri Ludovico Sfortia prius -exhibita_) to the King of France and to his sons; or, in default of -males, to his daughter Claude. At this time, through the influence of -Queen Anne, Claude was most unnaturally betrothed to the permanent enemy -of her country, the future Charles V., and in this document he is -mentioned as her husband and co-heir—a fact he did not allow to slip. -But fortunately the heiress of Brittany, Orleans, and Milan, was not -allowed to marry the great rival of France. On June 14, 1509, a second -investiture confirmed the inheritance of Claude, and associated with her -therein her future husband, Francis of Angoulême, her cousin, equally -with herself the offspring of Valentine and Orleans.[104] This Imperial -document explicitly admits the right of feminine succession to a Lombard -fief,[105] for Claude, it affirms, is the heiress to Milan through her -father, the grandson of Madame Valentine. But it says nothing of the -descent of Francis of Angoulême, although it provides that if Claude -should die in childhood, and the King have no other children born to -take her place, then Francis of Angoulême shall be recognized as in his -own right Duke of Milan because he is the heir of the King of France. - -Footnote 103: - - Luenig, sectio ii. classis i.: “De Ducato Mediolanesi,” xliv. - -Footnote 104: - - See in Luenig, June 14, 1509, No. xlv., and also, with some - unimportant variations of text, Bib. Nat. Paris, MS. 2950, Ancien - Fonds Français. - -Footnote 105: - - _Præfatus rex ex ducibus Mediolani originem trahit, medio illustris - quondam dominæ Valentinæ aviæ suæ, filiæ quondam illustris Johannis - Galeatii Mediolani ducis._ - -These are the rights of Francis I. to Milan, rights absolute and -impregnable. But it was only by continual conquest that the French could -keep their hold upon the Milanese. For the tendencies of ages go to show -us that there is a natural right more potent than the claims of blood, -succession, testament, adoption, or investiture. The French dukes of -Milan were, in their own dominions, foreigners. And, as the wise -Commines foresaw— - -“There is no great seniorie but in the end the dominion thereof -remaineth to the natural countrymen. And this appeareth by the realm of -France, a great part whereof the Englishmen possessed the space of four -hundred years, and yet now hold they nothing therein but Calais and two -little castles, the defence whereof costeth them yearly a great sum of -money. And the self-same appeareth also by the realm of Naples and the -Isle of Sicily, and the other provinces possessed by the French, where -now is no memorial of their being there, save only their ancestors’ -graves.” - -It was the fatal battle of Pavia which really lost her Italian -dependencies to France. The treaty of Madrid, extorted by compulsion, -which proved so powerless to restore to the Emperor Burgundy (already -become an integral part of France), resigned to him for ever the -dominions of the French in Italy; not, however, without a struggle. No -sooner was Francis released from Madrid than he declared that extorted -contract void. He despatched protest after protest[106] to all the -courts in Europe: but what availed to retain his hold on Cognac, proved -vain to regain him the Milanese. - -Footnote 106: - - See for example “Protestations de François 1^{er},” Bib. Nat. MS. - 2846. - -Immediately after the battle of Pavia, Charles V. had invested Francesco -Sforza II., the son of Il Moro, with the duchy of his fathers. But what -should happen on the death of Francesco Sforza, a childless man? -Foreseeing this event, the hopes of the king of France were not -extinguished; and the ten years between 1530 and 1540 are filled with -the various endeavours, menaces, persuasions, by which he strove to -obtain from the emperor the Duchy of Milan for the second son of France. -Since it was evidently impossible to induce Charles V. to let Milan be -an adjunct to the French Crown, the ambition of the king persevered upon -a lower level, and a French Duke of Milan became the sum of his desires. -At two different moments the realization of this scheme appeared -possible. In 1535, after the death of Francesco Sforza II., negotiations -were set on foot to obtain the Milanese for Orleans. A document still -existing in the National Library at Paris[107] proves how lively and how -sanguine at this moment was the hope of Francis I. to recover Milan. The -king offered a promise never to unite this duchy to the Crown of France, -and declared himself ready to expend an immense sum on its investiture. -But the Venetians,[108] aware of the danger to themselves which a great -French state must create in Italy, temporized and manœuvred so well that -the matter came to nothing; for Charles V. was in a humour to credit -their assertions, that any time was better than time present. The -affairs of Italy were dull and dead to him. All his energies were fixed -upon the idea of the crusade against Algiers. It was proposed that -Orleans should join him in this enterprize,[109] and that, hand to hand -in this holy fight, emperor and prince might consent to forget the -bitter memory of bygone days. But in 1536 the eldest son of Francis -died, and Orleans became the Dauphin of France. The schemes, the policy -which during several years had endeavoured to secure for the husband of -Catherine de’ Medici an Italian principality, collapsed before that -unexpected stroke of fate. Orleans was not to be the head of an Italian -kingdom reaching from the Alps to Rome, and in 1540 Charles V. invested -his own son, Philip of Spain, with the Duchy of Milan. Yet France could -not acquiesce in this alienation of her transalpine inheritance, and in -1544 the disastrous treaty of Crépy provided that, in two years from -that date, either Milan or the Netherlands should be bestowed upon the -third son of Francis. But before the time of the engagement had expired, -Prince Charles was dead, and Milan fast in the grasp of the Spaniards. - -Footnote 107: - - Bib. Nat. MS. 2846, No. 57: _Instruction baillée au Seigneur - d’Espercieu après la mort du duc de Milan, Sforce, &c._ - -Footnote 108: - - Ibid.: _Les Vénitiens ont practiqué bien avant cette mattière et - laissent, ce semble, le dict Sieur de Granvelle entendre qu’ils - parlent autrement que le roy, par aventure, ne pense; l’ambassadeur - parle assez publiquement de diviser le dict estat en plusieurs - pièces_. - -Footnote 109: - - Ibid. - - - - - THE MALATESTAS OF RIMINI. - - - NOTES AND DETAILS. - -It is a centre for many memories, this little town of Rimini, set in the -plain by the Adriatic. Here ruled and ravaged the Mastin Vecchio of -Dante. The eyes of Francesca and her lover remember eternally these -yellow sands. Here Parisina left her innocence. Here dwelt Gismondo, -prince of traitors. And there are older memories than these. Yet in the -city whence Cæsar crossed the Rubicon, whence Augustus began the great -Flaminian Way, we remember, not Cæsar or Augustus, but that strange, -brave, cruel, perfidious race of petty despots, whose encroaching -personality and whose genius for architecture has left an enduring trace -on the cities of Romagna. - -Pesaro, Fano, Cesena, Verruchio, and many another town owned the unquiet -sway of these Malatestas, and found them a perverse and twisted race, -shot with opposite qualities. They were a race of wrongheads, as their -surname tells us. Criminal often and yet not merely vicious, having some -great thought in them mostly, some fine intention still manifest through -the error of their lives, many of their vices were due to circumstance. -A dominant, courageous race of princelings, mostly illegitimate, never -sure of their tenure, it was only by unquestioned autocracy and a -never-relaxed grasp that they could secure their state from inner and -outer ravage. Their hand was against every man, and every man’s against -them. Not only the Pope anxious to enlarge his Venetian frontier, and -Venice eager for another province on the Adriatic seaboard; not only the -Duke of Urbino, the hereditary foe, perched like an eagle on the hills -above, watching the unguarded moment to pounce upon his prey: not only -these, and Sforza and Arragon, but every brother or cousin of the house, -from his petty stronghold in the plain, was ready to snatch from the -lord of Rimini, his dearly held supremacy. - -Such absolute power in the present, with such uncertain future, is above -all things dangerous to heady natures. The Malatestas grew mad sometimes -with their unrestrained indulgence, mad with cruelty and wild debauch; -but we repeat they were not merely vicious. They were strong, cunning, -brave unto death, ambitious; they knew how to make their subjects love -them; they left their little seaside village a monument of art, and made -their few miles of plain a power in Italy. - -In 1427 there was no lawful heir to this long-enriched possession. Carlo -Malatesta, twice married, lived in childish state at Rimini: Pandolfo of -Fano, dying in 1427, left no heir from his three brides; but, in -bequeathing to his brother Carlo his estate of Fano, he also sent to him -three natural children, still young boys, for whom both uncle and father -had in vain attempted to obtain a bull of legitimation. Powerful enemies -stood in their path. By excluding these children, Malatesta of Pesaro on -the one hand, and Frederic of Urbino on the other, hoped to succeed to -Rimini and Fano; and for long they persuaded the Pope to their own -interests. But Carlo Malatesta was not easily thwarted. - -This Carlo was in many ways the most honourable of his race; a -righteous, moral, pious soldier and captain, much such another as those -who saved England under Cromwell. It is recorded of him that, entering -Mantua in triumph on the morning of Virgil’s birthday, he found the -great irregular square there full of revellers, dancing and singing and -crowning with wreaths of flowers the statue of the poet. Whereat, -incensed at such worship paid to a vain heathen idol, he led up his -soldiers to the pedestal and bade them throw the statue into the Mincio; -which being done, or reported to be done, such a chorus of blame and -indignation rose throughout the humanistic Hellenist Italy of that day -as not one of the orgies, crimes, brutalities, and lusts of Carlo’s -kinsmen had ever wakened. All this gave little discomfiture to Carlo, -himself in his way a connoisseur of art and letters, and the first -patron of the young Ghiberti, whom he employed to decorate the Gattolo -at Rimini. Seldom indeed was Rimini so enviable as during the long and -prosperous reign of Carlo. But in 1429 Carlo died. - -Just before his death he had procured the legitimation of his nephews. -He was succeeded by Galeotto, the eldest, a lad of seventeen, who found -a heavy load in the much-battered helmet and sheath left empty for him. -Many hungry eyes adverse to him were fixed already on that jacent helm; -Frederic of Urbino and the faithless cousin of Pesaro were ranked close -beneath the city gates; the more ready to snatch his inheritance because -Eugene IV., the newly elected Pope, discussed with much dislike and -doubt the legitimation granted to Carlo by his predecessor. The Pope, -represented by Urbino, claimed Rimini as devolving to the See; Sforza -and Pesaro, each for himself, were ready to contest it with him. What -chance against such tremendous odds had Galeotto, seventeen years old, -weak in health, illegitimate, with no great ally to enforce his claims? - -A more inadequate champion the mind cannot imagine. No David eager to -fight the giant, this Galeotto Malatesta, but a wan, emaciated youth, -half-crazed, half-saint. In the middle of the panic, with the horror of -a triple sack maddening the miserable Riminese, this prince left the -city to dwell in the monastery of Arcangelo, outside the gates. There he -passed his days serene, scathless in the midst of peril; neither for -himself nor his kingdom taking any thought. - -So strange this spectacle, so awful, that the very enemies of Rimini -stopped in their onslaught amazed. The lion, it is said, will not attack -a sleeping prey. Eugene, the Pope (in his temporal character the deadly -foe of Rimini), wrote to its lord, bidding him remember the imperative -duties of his position. The letter reached that “magnificent man and -potent prince” in the monastery at Arcangelo, where clad in the coarse -robes of a Franciscan friar, he led an ascetic, starved, and mutilated -life. What was the magnificence of earth to him? So harsh were his -self-inflicted penances that the wounds on his body never ceased to -bleed. What had he to do with rule and governance? The brothers of the -monastery, and the young virgin wife who drooped and paled at his side, -were all of mankind he knew or saw; and he himself the chief of sinners. -Neither Pope nor armies could force him back to earth. Thus friends and -foes alike failed to touch him; there was no pity in the heart of -Galeotto the Saint. - -Or rather—common, yet tragical transmutation of the Middle Ages—his pity -took a retrospective turn; dead and dry to the present woes it might -relieve, it rushed back in a mighty impotent tide to the foot of that -sacred and awful Cross, whose divine tragedy was the continual spectacle -of the saintly life. Pity for the dead Christ—throbbing, yearning, -helpless, and indignant pity for the agonized Saviour—this surely lay at -the bottom of all crusades, tortures, persecutions, inquisitions of the -Middle Ages. Living ever with the crucifix in sight, dwelling ever and -solely in presence of that dread expiation-such fanatics as Galeotto -forgot the example of the life of Christ in the terror and pity of -Golgotha. Vengeance on the enemies of God! vengeance on the traitors who -still stab and crucify the ever newly sacrificed God and Victim! so ran -the tenor of mediæval piety. And the contagion of this fanatic sentiment -slaughtered the armies of the East, tossed Albigensian babies on to -lance-points, and roasted before a ribald soldiery the pious Vaudois -women; the martyrs of Saint Bartholomew and the martyrs of Smithfield -were hewn and burned by the strength of it; and from its armoury the -Inquisition drew its deadliest weapons. - -Thus Galeotto, unmoved by the misery of the people who, owing allegiance -to him, died, starved, and sorrowed for his sake, was nevertheless, not -without his private schemes of sanctity and militant devotion. High -thoughts were born in that narrow mind, as in the intervals of penance -and office the lord of Rimini paced the monastery garden. Monk as he was -by life and feeling, he too had his ambition; he too had his work to -fulfil. And here solved that the Jews should be cast out from Rimini. - -Months went on, and the details of his scheme matured in the brain of -the cloistered prince; but, meanwhile, his foes pressed closer and -closer round him, and there was no leader to lead the few forlorn troops -out to battle; yet ruin stared upon the city nearer every day, and now -or never must the decisive step be taken. Still Galeotto prayed and -dreamed in his cell at Arcangelo. But an unsuspected deliverer was in -Rimini. One autumn night in 1430, secret to most of the citizens, a -desperate sally was made from the gates of the town. A short, brisk -uncertain conflict in the terrifying darkness, and the surprised armies -were driven back, ignorant of the small number of their assailants. And -as in the dawn, the conqueror led his troops back inside the gates, -flushed and triumphant, the people crowded out into the streets to look -at him and bless him, crying that the great days of Carlo and of -Verruchio had returned; and behold this saviour of the city was the -brother and heir of Galeotto—was the boy Sigismond, or Gismondo, -Malatesta, not yet thirteen years old! - -Whether the Pope and the oncoming armies perceived that at last they had -a substantive enemy to deal with, or whether touched with compassion by -so much youthful daring, they concluded a peace with Rimini only a few -days after the successful sally. A ruinous peace indeed; forfeiting many -broad lands and territories in return for the acknowledgment of the true -right to Rimini, Fano, and Cesena of these legitimized Malatestas. But -the people were thankful for any peace, and Galeotto easily yielded, -seeing here the needed opportunity to prove his piety. He signed the -treaty on consideration that the Holy Father would authorize him to -expel the Jews from Rimini. - -It was a cruel step. This plain by the Adriatic had long been a refuge -to the outcast nation, who brought thither their genius for wealth, -their industry, and their abundance. It was represented to Galeotto that -the fortunes of Rimini were bound up with the presence of these patient -and long-enduring exiles. They had given no cause for just offence; they -had, indeed, offered to defray the heavy amnesty exacted by the Pope; -and to banish them would yet further enfeeble the war-shattered city. -The Pope, indeed, perceived these thing; but neither gratitude, policy, -nor compassion, weighed with the fanatic Galeotto. “Better starve,” -thought he, “than favour the enemies of Christ.” So the law went forth, -and when the winter made doubly dreary the wide sandy war-ravaged -plains, a melancholy train of miserable outcasts set out from the city -they had enriched; banished and ruined for no fault of their own, with -no home before them, and leaving behind them, uprooted and strengthless -as it seemed, the fortunes of the little town. - -So the edict ran, and many went out in exile scarcely was the exodus -completed when Galeotto died. His fasts and scourgings, his -long-continued vigils had worn out his life at twenty years of age. No -hermit of the Thebaid had lived more sparsely or hardly than this prince -of the pagan renaissance. He was borne to his grave in the monastery -churchyard as simply as any other brother; four monks of the order bore -his bier, holding flaming torches. They laid him to rest the poor -half-mad, self-absorbed visionary. And all the people mourned him, -forgiving his injuries because he was a saint; and also, it may be, for -some endearing quality in his thwarted nature which does not reach us -across the gulf of years. For his virgin widow Margaret of Este loved -him and mourned him through all the days of her long life, never -marrying again, and praying on her deathbed to be buried at his feet; -and the city was proud of Galeotto the Saint. Nevertheless, life -appeared more possible now that he was dead. - -Galeotto was scarcely buried when new troubles burst upon the city. -Urbino and Pesaro laid siege to Lungarino, one of the fiefs of the -Riminese. Grief and fear again awoke in the harassed and impoverished -town; but in this trouble Sigismond saw his opportunity. He had chafed -and fumed and wasted under the regency of the two widows, his -sister-in-law and his aunt. He, a conqueror at thirteen, was surely at -fifteen able to rule a city. A daring scheme presented itself to the -impatient boy; a scheme which, chance what might, would he knew but -increase his favour with the people, however the Ladies-Regent might -bewail it. He escaped in disguise from Rimini, and having given notice -to his old adherents, collected them outside the walls, and gaining new -battalions as he marched towards Lungarino, won a tremendous victory -there—a victory which utterly routed Urbino and Pesaro, and proved -Sigismond Malatesta one of the most valiant champions in Italy. - -After this there could be no question of petticoat-government. At home -and abroad this lad of fifteen had established his right both to govern -and to combat. In this same year (1432) he reconciled Rimini with the -Pope, and concluded an alliance with Venice. In his new friendship with -the great sea-city he engaged himself to the daughter of Carmagnola, -receiving a portion of the dowry in advance. But quickly on this -betrothal followed the disgrace and execution of Carmagnola, and it is -characteristic of Gismondo (no less perfidious than brave, grasping than -lavish), that, refusing to ally himself with a traitor’s daughter, he -equally refused to restore her dowry. - -A better-omened betrothal, as it seemed, followed this next year, when -Sigismond engaged himself to Ginevra, the sister of Margaret, his -brother’s widow, and daughter of his friend and ally the powerful -Marquis of Este. There was high festival both at the betrothal and the -marriage; Sigismund the Emperor stayed the same year in the town; it was -an occasion of much pageantry. New and better days seemed dawning on -Rimini; and when the Pope gave the seventeen-year-old Gismondo the -command of the troops of the Church, and restored some of his -confiscated territory, it was evident that good fortune was secure. - -Gismondo knew how to be generous and prudent. Before departing on his -campaign he bestowed the city and lands of Cesena on his brother -Domenico, premising that, in any imminent battle where both were -concerned, Domenico should range himself with the powers opposed to -Gismondo, so that in any case fortune should not desert the Malatestas. -A prudent, balanced tactic, well worthy of those slow-moving Condottiere -battles, when war was as much a game as chess, and to keep the rules of -the game as important as to win. Leaving his city, therefore, with a -beneficed protector close at hand, Gismondo set out on his career as a -soldier of fortune. - -For three years he fought almost continuously, gaining great glory for -himself in the cause of the Church, besides in his own cause opposing -the Duke of Urbino. And in 1438, having at last the leisure to sit at -home for a while in peace, he found a new labour ready to his hand. -Built for a palace rather than as a fort, the Gattolo of the Malatestas -offered them little security in case of war. Gismondo, no less active as -military engineer than as captain or art-patron, determined to have it -down and build in its stead a Rocca from his own design, to rank among -the strongest in Italy. Calling to his aid Roberto Valturio, the great -military engineer of Romagna, Sigismond began that famous Rocca of which -to-day only a tower remains, mellowed and faded by the sea winds of -centuries, grown over with lichen and sprouting wallflowers: only a -tower in the sand, disfigured and insulted by the modern prison built -against it, and of which it forms a part. - -For the Rocca soon outlived its purpose. By some strange want of -foresight, some hapless piece of amateurish ignorance, this great pile, -the first built in Italy since the invention of artillery, was planned -with no regard to the changed conditions of warfare. Not till sixty -years after did some wiser engineer invent the system of bastions; so -that, for all its strength, the mighty Rocca of Sigismond was to some -extent a waste of labour. Yet by the building of it hangs a tale; -through it we approach the greatest influence of Gismondo’s life; a -memory imperishably united with his own. - -While the Gattolo, or palace of the Malatestas, was being levelled to -make way for the new fortress, Sigismond removed his household to the -Palazzo Roelli in the Via Sta. Croce. Besides his servants and his -secretary, he brought with him his miserable wife. Constantly outraged -by his infidelities, Ginevra d’Este had cause not only for grief, but -for fear. One child had died, and Gismondo had no heir by the woman whom -he had married to unite his still unstable house with the powerful lords -of Ferrara. He chafed at her presence, useless and undesired. - -Close to the Palazzo Roelli stood the Palazzo del Cimiero, where -Francesco degli Atti, a merchant of noble birth, lived in sufficient -state and splendour with his young son and his motherless daughter -Isotta. - -A strange girl this neighbour of Sigismond’s. Not beautiful, according -to the busts and medals that record her features—an imperious, resolute, -tenacious creature, imposing her personality like a yoke upon all who -knew her. Hard-featured, long-necked, and thin, with perhaps in the -large eyes burning under the tense raised eyebrows, a certain feverish, -eager beauty to excuse the general panegyric of her contemporaries. An -expression of patience, of great constancy, and endurance in the -long-lipped, close-shut mouth, with the strong lines round it, in the -long square of the face, in the beautiful resolute chin. The face -expresses character rather than genius; we behold in it far-seeing -resolve, and patience. The reputation of great learning remains with -Isotta, despite the modern authorities who, on somewhat insufficient -evidence, assure us that she could not write. By some means, at all -events, by reading and writing, or by learned conversation and lonely -thought, this Isotta gained an eminence among the women of her age for -learning and talent, for prudence, and the faculty of government. - -_Fœmina belligera et fortis_: thus the chronicle of Rimini describes -her. A nature not immoral, but unscrupulous, a woman in whom will, -passion, and intellect were strong enough each to balance the other. -Isotta gained an influence over the perverse, defiant, passionate -Gismondo which raised her to a position in the state far superior to -that of the lawful wife; a position in which the lax morality of her age -saw little disgraceful or revolting. - -That Isotta felt it there is ample evidence. Taking Battaglini’s date -(1438) as the true commencement of her relations with Gismondo she must -have been young, certainly under twenty, when she took the first fatal -all-involving step on that road of dishonour she was so long to tread. -Young in age, she was younger probably by circumstance; this silent, -sequestered, thoughtful girl, with neither mother nor sister to confide -in. Her father raved and stormed, and then forgave her: I think, -remembering a certain beseeching, miserable, unfortunate letter of hers -written fifteen years later, that she did not forgive herself. Not the -public union of her cipher with Gismondo’s, not the corps of courtly -poetasters occupied in chanting _Isottæ_ to her glory, not the medals -struck in her honour, nor the eternal monument prepared, could make this -stern proud woman forget that she was her lover’s mistress only, after -all. Nay, would she not silently, bitterly resent in her inmost heart -this blazoning of her shame? “Voliatte avere chompasione a mi poveretta, -diate vero spozamento piui presto che viui posette—Take pity on me, poor -me,” she cries; “give me true marriage as quickly as you can. Ah, put an -end to this thing, which always keeps me enraged. Sempre me tene -arabiatta.” So she cries in her flat, soft dialect; and must cry long -enough, poor Isotta. - -Yet he was in his fashion faithful to her. He always returned to her, -trusted her, counted on her service and her sacrifice. There was none -could govern the city so well in his absence, counsel him, give up all -for him—jewels, safety, honour itself. And in return he summoned great -artists to do her honour, and instituted the elegiac _Isottæ_, strained -and fanciful praises, according to the fashion of the time, of which -none are so pregnant, so full of meaning as those of this fierce, -unfaithful, constant-lover himself. Through the quaint out-dated garb we -catch here and there a glimpse of the man’s own nature—of his defiant -will, his acute and painful sensibility to beauty, his almost sublime -self-preoccupation and intensity. We discern that he is a man who ever -felt the eyes of posterity upon him, and yet a fierce, passionate, -shameful man; suddenly falling into crime, sceptical of punishment, yet -inherently superstitious; vibrating through and through with passion, -tainted through and through with hereditary perfidy; half mad, yet with -a touch of genius and greatness in this chaotic mass of wickedness and -fraud. - -Suddenly an end came, for the moment, to this rhyme-repentance. A -fearful crime stopped for a day or two the verse-making and recitations. -On the 8th of September, 1440, the poor ineffectual Ginevra d’Este died, -having taken (so the rumour went) her fatal draught of poison from her -husband’s hands. - -Sigismond was now free to marry a wife who would bring him legal heirs; -Isotta cannot have doubted that she would be that woman. But Gismondo, -the ardent lover and writer of verses, was not of the character to throw -away so valuable a chance of alliance. He possessed Isotta already, and -she had no powerful supporters. In 1442 he married Polissena Sforza, the -natural daughter of Francesco Sforza, that magnificent soldier of -fortune, already on the alert to seize (when death should offer him the -chance) his father-in-law’s rich Duchy of Milan. - -The chance was to come soon enough; but for a year or two after -Gismondo’s marriage old Visconti lingered on, and Polissena’s father -held his peace. Meanwhile, war being slack, Gismondo progressed -admirably in his work of remodelling Rimini. In 1446 the Rocca was at -length complete; and in the same year he began a yet bolder and more -splendid undertaking. The old church of San Francesco, a Gothic building -of no great beauty, displeased his Hellenicized humanistic culture. To -him it represented nothing—that simple Gothic church raised by the monks -to God. Gismondo resolved to convert it into a temple, a temple still -dedicated nominally to St. Francis, but in reality to become an eternal -monument of Sigismondo and Isotta. - -Gismondo called to his aid some of the greatest artists of this time: -Matteo da Pasti, the medallist, to execute the great marble medallions -of himself, to be set up everywhere in the holy place; Ciuffagni for the -statutes (a miserable choice), Simone Ferrucci for the bas-reliefs of -playing children, Agostino Duccio, that exquisite draughtsman in marble, -to carve in low relief the yellow-white plaques with allegorical -figures, whose flowing lines of floating and twisted drapery, small -well-poised heads, wonderful grace of attitude, and refined exotic type, -recall the late Greek bas-reliefs rather than the solid, somewhat squat -forms of Donatello and his school, or the angular delicacy of Mino. Over -all these Gismondo set Leon Battista Alberti, a man almost as universal -in his attributes as Leonardo himself. Alberti was to be the architect, -and assign with Matteo’s aid their several parts to each of his -co-operators. No easy task, this of Alberti’s; for Gismondo—with a flash -of the native superstition which shot so strangely athwart his -paganism—refused to destroy the consecrated walls of the older building. -The architect must build his Hellenic temple on to the framework of a -thirteenth-century Gothic church. Fortunately, the form of the early -edifice, its wide nave and simple sanctuary not greatly differing from -the Roman Basilica, rendered the conversion within the limits of -possibility, and Alberti appears to have enjoyed the difficulty of his -task. Perhaps he saw in this endeavour to fuse into one splendid whole -the opposite characters of Gothic mediævalism and Greek antiquity, the -opportunity to immortalize the spirit of his time—and the result was -success. It is built, this temple of Rimini, of Roman stones from -Classis, antique slabs from Greece, and of the Adriatic clay fused long -ago by pious hands. Augustan arches rise without, sheltering the -sarcophagi of philosophers, and within, the light from mediæval windows -falls on the altar of a Christian saint. A pagan church, with pointed -Gothic arches raised on sculptured classic pillars, a splendid anomaly, -chiefly original by its combination of opposing elements, it is a type -of the Italian Renaissance. - -Finding it impossible to turn the Gothic front with its deep porch and -rosace to any classical account, Alberti resolved to inclose it in a -marble casing, distant at all points by nearly four feet from the -original structure. He was now free to plan his façade, singularly -simple in design, yet solemn, beautiful, and stately in its plainness. -From a breast-high plinth, giving a noble base to the whole structure, -start three engaged arches, the central one larger than the others and -higher in relief; the span of all three is extremely wide, their -proportions being borrowed from the Roman arch of Augustus close at -hand. At the corners of the façade and on either side of the central -arch stand four fluted columns with florid capitals; rising from the -plinth they support a heavy, deep-shadowed cornice. Sculptured votive -wreaths, six in all, are hung between the capitals of the columns and -the spandrel of the arches. From the deep cornice above rises the -pediment, unfinished and irregular, its supporting columns incomplete. -Above this again should have sprung a cupola, vaulting the entire church -in its wide span; but in its stead a temporary roof still patches the -never-finished masterpiece. - -In the hollow space between the façade and the old brick fronting is -placed the tomb of Sigismond, accessible from the interior. But on the -lateral fronts there is no such space, for here the round wide arches -are not merely in relief, but detached: and in the recesses great stone -sarcophagi are placed, standing on the red-cornered plinth. In these -repose the bones of the humanists and philosophers of Gismondo’s court. -When the temple was built there was made room for fourteen sarcophagi to -stand there to inclose the most honourable ashes in Italy; but the fate -of incompletion which has overtaken the temple has not spared this -grandiose design. Only seven tombs stand upon the plinth, seven other -empty arches keep no illustrious dead. - -Passing through the low door under the central arch of the façade we are -amazed by the rich and strange impression of the interior—doubly -impressive after the severity outside. The nave is furnished with eight -side chapels inclosed by a high balustrade; there are four on each side, -the two central ones being in double bays, while a considerable wall -space divides the first and last on either side from these. The wall -between the arches, divided by slender columns, is tinted alternately -with pale sea-green and the lightest red; the frieze bears the same -tints; across it are swung heavy festoons of yellow-white marble. The -sculptured pillars and railings of the chapels are also tinted with like -delicate colours. Ferrucci’s bas-reliefs of playing children stand out -against a ground of palest, unglazed, greenish-blue, and below these the -balustrade is simply white, while beneath Agostino’s delicate untinted -low-reliefs the railing is of the richest deep-red breccia, elaborately -sculptured with double-headed elephants. Behind Ciuffagni’s rude figures -the background is of dull gold, while here and there on all sides a -tinge of gold faintly lines and splashes the yellowish marble. On the -frieze, on the shields of the putti, over the doorways, on the columns -and the tombs, above the very heads of the saints in their chapels, we -find the double cipher of Sigismond and his mistress. The saints -themselves are not safe. Isotta wears the robes and wings of St. -Michael. Over the chapel balustrades flourishes her rose, and the image -of Sigismond is carved upon the pillars. So that from pedestal to -cornice the whole great church is one memorial of the passion that -defied it. - -Many great artists worked to complete the beauty of Sigismond’s temple; -but until quite lately the name of the sculptor of the most perfect of -these panels was undetermined.[110] M. Yriarte has told us that we owe -them to a certain Florentine cutpurse, Agostino di Duccio. The fact is -patent. Never having read M. Yriarte’s learned and precious volume, I -came to Rimini straight from Perugia, straight from Duccio’s wonderful -façade of San Bernardino. That façade, those figures so admirable in -their poise, that sweeping drapery full of intricate line and harmony, -those heads, small, and graceful, with the exotic beauty and rapture of -expression, had produced on me the strongest, the most durable -impression. A few days after, finding in the decorations of two chapels -at Rimini the same strange poetic grace, the same exquisite attitude, -the same wavy lines, low relief, and classic feeling, I could not but -recognize the master. And so, no doubt, has many another chance -traveller, such as I, lacking authority without M. Yriarte and his -documents—though without documents the fact itself is surely clear. For -the existence of two monuments so strikingly original and singularly -alike as the San Bernardino of Perugia and the Cappella di San Gaudenzio -at Rimini must surely be due to one hand. The very details of the -ornament, the characteristic round sweeps of drapery, like a wind-blown -scarf; the exceeding lowness of relief, almost as if drawn on the stone; -the type of head, with inspired glance and lips frequently apart are all -the graces—the mannerisms even—of one master. That master one would, -from the strange beauty of expression in these figures, have judged to -be a Sienese, were not the authorship of San Bernardino graven across -its front: Opus Augustini Florentini Lapicidæ, MCCCCLXI. It is difficult -to imagine how a Florentine, a pupil of Donatello’s, could acquire that -tall and ripely-slender severity of form, that exquisite freedom of -hand; nor does he take his style from the school of the Robbias. In its -distinguishing characteristics his manner is unlike any of the great -Italian masters. By a bold hypothesis we might account for it with -satisfaction by supposing that among those many slabs and lids of marble -which Gismondo brought from Greece for the building of the temple there -may have been some precious fragment of classic bas-relief not -overlooked by the keen-eyed cutpurse and sculptor; who thence-forwards -proved himself a master among the masters of his day, first at Rimini -and later at Perugia. - -Footnote 110: - - I take this occasion of expressing much indebtedness to M. Yriarte’s - charming and elaborate volume, “Un Condottiere du XV. Siècle, Gismondo - Malatesta.” - -The subjects of these designs of Duccio’s have troubled many -generations. In the chapel of the Holy Sacrament, the planets, the -twelve signs of the Zodiac, and a series of animals magnificently -treated, form the decoration. In the Chapel of San Gaudenzio, the -subjects are the Muses, Virtues, and other allegorical figures. M. -Yriarte has proved that this strange assemblage illustrates a long -passage in one of Gismondo’s poems to Isotta; and it appears likely that -Alberti, himself an author, gave the passage to Duccio for a text. Of a -series of thirty-six exquisite bas-reliefs it is impossible to give much -description here; but I would advise all lovers of Renaissance sculpture -to procure, at least, Alinari’s photographs of the _Diana_, the -_Agriculture_, the _Medicine_, the _Botany_, and the _Poetry_ from -Rimini, and to compare these with the exquisite designs of a woman -catching together at the knees the folds of her wind-blown mantle, from -the façade of San Bernardino. - -Sigismond compelled haste from the artists who served him. This temple, -of which the corner-stone was laid in 1446, was, by his most earnest -desire, to be fit for service and consecration in 1450, the great -Jubilee year at Rome. And this in fact was done; the dome was not yet -planned, and a flat wooden roof crowned the building; the transept was -scarce begun; the façade broken off almost at the base of the pediment; -but the nave with its bays was finished, a wonder of sculpture and -colour. And as it was opened in 1450 so we behold it to-day. - -A strange ceremony it must have been, that Jubilee service in the -newly-opened temple. The prelates and great dignitaries of the church -meet, appalled, in that splendid shrine to Diva Isotta, which a little -later the Pope should adduce as absolute and sufficient proof of the -paganism of its founder. From door to transept, from pedestal to -cornice, no memento of Christ; only everywhere the I.S. of Isotta and -her lover mocking the sacred monogram; and the rose of the prince’s -mistress where there should have been the crown of thorns. Diva Isotta -herself would be there in all her glory; she had furnished from her -private purse the funds for her chapel of St. Michael, where her -likeness filled the robes of the saint, where, shadowed with the blazons -of Sigismond and standing on the Malatestan elephants, her sarcophagus -stood ready. There, also, must have been the hapless Polissena, -condemned to witness this triumph of her rival, condemned to praise the -chapel in Isotta’s honour, while seeing nowhere in all that splendid -church a corner dedicated to herself, nor any memorial of the dead -Ginevra. - -Hapless Polissena! Even then her husband was treating with the Pope to -legitimize his children by Isotta. She had no children. Even before that -ominous festival her husband had made the war of succession at Milan -against her father. Her claims on him were breaking, one by one. And -when the peace was made, and the Pope gave Sigismond, with Sinigaglia, -the legitimation of his children, she must have thought bitterly of -Ginevra’s end. Indeed a few weeks afterwards she too died suddenly, -terribly. Not poison this time, the rumour went. Gismondo, they said, -had strangled her with a napkin. - -None dared accuse him then. He was at the height of his power and -formidable triumph—at the summit, the climax, beyond which is no ascent. -Yet even then he had made a deadly enemy, scorned at present, but who -knew how to wait. Not Sforza, who seems to have taken the loss of his -daughter with strange indifference. It was the perfidy and not the -violence of Sigismond that wrought his ruin. Engaged to fight for -Arragon in the war of the Milanese succession, he had received in -advance a large portion of his pay. Then the Florentines sought to tempt -him from his allegiance. With true Tuscan shrewdness they chose for -their agent no Medici, no magnificent money-bag or puissant general—but -Gianozzo Manetti the Humanist. Him and his rare manuscripts they send -into Gismondo’s camp; and as the scholar treats with the great captain, -he shows him such-and-such a precious Greek fragment, or a perfect copy -of Virgil—or the Platonists, pointing without too obvious intention the -superior culture of Florence to barbarous Arragon. Gismondo, fascinated, -stepped into the snare. The next day he deserted to Florence, refusing, -moreover, to restore the immense wage he had drawn from the Duke of -Arragon for services never to be rendered. Nor at the time was there any -redress for that prince; but the time of vengeance was to come. - -Meanwhile, incautious, believing that he could compass heaven and earth -between his courage and his perfidy, Sigismond earned yet more of the -traitor’s wages. Scarcely was the peace of Lodi signed (in 1454), than -he hired himself and his troops to the Republic of Siena in their -quarrel against the lord of Pittigliano. Again he deserted to the enemy, -thinking to make a better bargain with him. The Sienese sent him his -demission, “in terms of great courtesy and haughtiness,” but denounced -his treachery to all the great powers with which they were allied, -including Arragon. He, perceiving in this double proof of treachery, -sufficient cause for a quarrel, sent Piccinino, the greatest soldier of -fortune of his day, against the wall of Rimini. Yet all was not lost; -for Sforza came to the aid of his son-in-law. Had Sigismond stuck to his -sword all might have gone well; but of late he had become perilously -adept in the traitor’s cunning trade. He despatched a secret message to -René, king of Anjou, offering—in return for present help—to invade the -kingdom of Naples, oust Alfonso of Arragon and restore it to the -Angevines. René accepted, and landed at Genoa, but only in time to learn -the sudden death of Alfonso. Sforza, learning all the details of the -scheme, withdrew his forces from Rimini, alienated once and for ever -from the traitor who would call the French to settle his quarrels; for -Sforza, as we know, had reasons for wishing the kinsman of Charles of -Orleans well on the other side the Alps. At this moment the succession -of a Sienese, Æneas-Sylvius Piccolomini, to the papal throne under the -title of Pius II., left Gismondo without a friend in Italy, five years -after his triumphs in war and in peace of the glorious year 1450. - -Little time now for temple-building. Gismondo, before Siena, had amused -himself with drawing out plans for the dome in intervals of battles and -traitorous despatches. He now found enough to do in keeping Piccinino at -bay. The Angevines were of no service; they had but estranged the -sympathies of Italy from his cause. He tried even, it is said, to tempt -the universal enemy of Christendom, the Grand Turk himself, to espouse -his cause. There is no knowing to what lengths he would not go in his -lonely, impotent, swift despair, and defiant ruin; and it is possible -that he may have remembered the examples of Carlo Zeno and the great -Visconti. One good and wise thing, at least, Gismondo did in these -terrible years of friendless battle. He married the faithful Isotta, who -proved herself a right valiant defender and regent of his city. - -Meanwhile the Pope had enrolled himself among the active enemies of -Sigismond. Siena was avenged. Amid great state and ceremony the effigy -of Gismondo Malatesta was burned in the streets of Rome; interdict and -excommunication were pronounced against him. Parricide, murderer of old -men and innocent women, committer of adultery and incest, prince of -traitors, enemy of God and man: so ran the terms of this tremendous -accusation. But the Pope was not contented merely to accuse. He -threatened not only Gismondo with his anathema, but whatsoever nation or -army should arise to help him. Having thus disabled his enemy, he sent -his forces against Rimini. - -Sigismond, maddened and desperate, looked vainly round for an ally. -Siena, Arragon, Florence, Milan, all were hostile, or at best neutral. -Yet help must be found. Almost alone, facing a hundred perils, Gismondo -trudged across the Apennines to the kingdom of Naples in search of his -fatal friends the Angevines. But from them he got no help, not a promise -even. Back to Rimini, desperate, baited, hurried the miserable -Sigismond. Finding the towns still held out, he took to the sea, and -went to Venice—praying in his abject extremity for succour, for -protection. And the Venetians, bound to him by old ties, did indeed -afford him a slender assistance. By the aid of this he escaped death and -flagrant ruin. The Pope made peace with him, though only on condition -that he and his brother Domenico should make public penance for their -misdeeds at Rome, resigning all their possessions save their capitals -and a few castles, which also must devolve to the Holy See after the -deaths of their present lords. And to these terms he consented. Nothing -but his sword and his city were now left to the once triumphant -Sigismond. Leaving Rimini to the staunch Isotta—_fœmina belligera et -fortis_—he hired himself to the Venetians, to conduct their forces -against the Turks in the Morea. Here a faint shadow of his former glory -played for a while around him; and in 1465 Gismondo returned to Rimini, -enriched, and bringing with him as his dearest possession the bones of -Gemisthus Pletho, the Platonist, to place in the first sarcophagus of -the temple. - -Within the year Pius II. died, and Paul II. reigned in the Vatican. The -new pontiff called Sigismond to Rome, and there concluded with him what -seemed a most favourable treaty. But Gismondo was no sooner back in -Rimini than the Pope, jealous of Venice, proposed to him to cede his -city to Rome, in exchange for Spoleto and Foligno. When Sigismond -comprehended this proposal a veritable madness seemed to seize him. -Resign Rimini, the city he had saved at thirteen, had fought for ever -since, had spent his whole life and fortune in embellishing! He and -Isotta and his sons go into exile in the marshes of Foligno! Rimini, -with the Rocca and temple of his building, with the tombs of centuries -of ancestors—Rimini, with its salts and its seaboards—yield _that_? -Sigismond sent no answer to the Pope; but mad, in a burning fever, he -journeyed by day and night to Rome. His attendants noticed that he never -slept, that he clutched under his coat a dagger, never relaxed. Arrived -at Rome, he went instantly to the Vatican, demanding a private audience; -but the Pope, warned, it may be, appointed a meeting for the morrow. -Then he received the lord of Rimini, guarded by a great concourse of -princes and cardinals. Sigismond had not foreseen such a reception. -Gazing wildly, and clutching still the ineffectual hidden dagger which -he could not use, he made what terms he could, since revenge was -impossible. The right to remain in Rimini was finally conceded him, but -under the pretext of a captainship of troops the Pope kept him far from -home, employed in petty guerilla warfare. A year later the fever had -gained a fearful hold upon him. He dragged himself back to Rimini, to -Isotta. Impoverished, friendless, powerless, the city was at least his -own to die in. His last thoughts were for Isotta and her children, left -friendless in an unkind world. Thus he died, the great Malatesta. - - - - - THE LADIES OF MILAN. - - - “CHERCHEZ LA FEMME.” - -When Galeazzo Maria, Duke of Milan, was murdered in church at Christmas -by a band of heroes, his brothers, the Duke of Bari and Lodovico il -Moro, were absent on an embassy in France. The head of affairs was Cecco -Simonetta, since many years the secretary and minister, first of Count -Francesco, and later of his son. Having lived so long in the family, -Simonetta was aware how much his dead master’s children had to fear from -their uncles. With one stroke of the pen he banished the Duke of Bari -and Lodovico il Moro. - -This was in 1476. For three years all went well in Milan. Simonetta had -so long guided the course of affairs that the death of the Duke made -little difference to the external policy of the state. Galeazzo Maria -had called himself a Ghibelline, Cecco Simonetta dared at last to avow -himself a Guelf; but under one as under the other, the course of Milan -continued Liberal and French. Inside the city there were a few less -murders,—less ominous stories than were told in the lifetime of the -handsome, cruel, dilettante Duke. His widow, the Duchesse Bonne, had the -wardship of her children, and lived a pleasant life in her beautiful -palace, where Commines remembered to have seen her in great authority. -She had two little boys and a girl; she had excellent counsellors, a -court full of admirers, beautiful clothes, and a devoted lover. - -Yet the Duchess was not satisfied. Bonne de Savoie was an empty pate, -vain and restless, as was the temper of her house. There was in the -palace a young man who carved before her at table, Antonio Tassino, an -adventurer from Ferrara, “of very mean parentage,” not handsome, but -with a certain grace and air in the way he wore his cloak. This was the -Duchess’s lover, and there was no matter of state (says Corio) but she -consulted her carver before she allowed it to pass. It is not surprising -that Simonetta—an old statesman, tenacious of dignity, in spite of his -Liberalism, was scandalized at the importance of Tassino. It is equally -easy to imagine how the successful Ferrarese was irritated by the -disdain of Simonetta. So it fell out; and rather out of spite than from -conviction, Tassino constituted himself the chief of the Ghibellines in -Milan, merely intending to procure the fall of Simonetta. So great was -his influence over the Duchess, that he persuaded her at last to privily -recall her husband’s brother, Il Moro—a Sforza, and therefore presumably -a Ghibelline—who was at that moment engaged in the war at Genoa. - -All that follows sound like a passage in some ancient novel of -adventure. The Duchess sends to Genoa to Il Moro, who, coming at night -to Milan, is secretly admitted by the Duchess and her lover through the -garden gate of the palace. Lodovico returns not alone; Bari is dead but, -in place of the lost brother, Roberto di Sanseverino a great captain, -dare-devil, incorrigible, comes at his heels: a man whom Simonetta had -exiled with the sons of Francesco Sforza, a Ghibelline _à l’outrance_, a -personal enemy of Cecco. These were the men whom Bonne, weary of her -ancient counsellor’s respectability, called home, “through great -simplicity,” as Commines declares, “supposing they would do the said -Cecco no harm, and the truth is that so they had both of them sworn and -promised.” - -When Sanseverino and Il Moro were safe in the palace, the Duchess sent -for Simonetta and told him all she had done. She must have been alarmed -to see the horror and consternation on the faithful secretary.[111] -“Duchessa Illustrissima,” said the man, with the quiet of despair, “he -will cut off my head, that is all; a little time more and he will send -you packing!” The Duchess probably remembered these words when, the -third day after their return, Il Moro and Sanseverino caused the man who -had signed their exile to be carried through the streets of Milan in a -wine barrel, and then—still in this ridiculous tumbril—taken to the -fortress at Pavia. There was Simonetta imprisoned; but once inside the -gates his lot appeared to mend. Lodovico il Moro frequently rode across -to Pavia to take counsel with the wise old statesman and learn his views -of the world. He went indeed so often that the people of Milan began to -murmur and to say that Lodovico, recalled by a Ghibelline _coup d’étât_, -was a Guelf in disguise. To reassure them on that head, in the month of -October, 1480, Lodovico intimated to Simonetta—not without many -apologies—that, in deference to popular prejudice, he must even consent -to lose his head. And in that very month, the first part of the -secretary’s prophecy came true. - -Footnote 111: - - “Cecco ed i suoi colleghi oltra modo d’animo furono consternati” - (Corio, book vii.). - -The second half was for a while delayed. Duchess Bonne found no reason -to regret the step which had relieved her of an inconvenient old -servant. “They used the lady very honourably in her judgment, seeking to -content her humour in all things,” said Commines, who knew them all. - -“But all matters of importance they two despatched alone, making her -privy but to what pleased them; and no greater pleasure could they do -her than to communicate nothing with her. For they permitted her to give -this Anthony Tassino what she would; they lodged him hard by her -chamber; he carried her on horseback behind him in the town; and in her -house was nothing but feasting and dancing.” The Duchess had never led a -happier life; but all that jollity endured but half a year. One day -Lodovico took out his little nephews to walk in Milan; children are ever -interested in things of warfare; he took them to the Rocca—the -impregnable fortress—he took them inside; he did not bring them home. - -English readers know what to expect when an ambitious uncle, in the -Middle Ages, leaves two little Princes in the Tower. But no midnight -assassin cut short the days of Giangaleazzo and his brother Ermes. They -were more useful to their uncle, living—at least until he had made his -own position surer: for at present he only ruled in Milan as Tutor and -Regent of the little Duke. But, by whatever title, he ruled effectually, -and soon he rid his palace of the tearful and frivolous presence of -Madame Bonne, whom he exiled from her duchy “for immorality,” and who -carried her inept remonstrances and her tarnished honour to find a none -too chivalrous asylum at the court of her brother-in-law, Louis XI. of -France, a man impatient of unsuccessful women. - -Meanwhile Lodovico il Moro flourished in Milan. Under his cultured and -dignified rule it became a magical city, a capital of masterpieces. -There in 1483, Leonardo da Vinci took up his abode, cast his bronze -statue of Francesco Sforza, painted pictures, and founded a school of -Lombard painters, little less exquisite, mysterious, and sensual than -himself. The Choir of Singers, whom Galeazzo Maria Sforza had brought -across the Alps, increased, and the singing and playing of Milan became -a thing of note. Temples and palaces sprang up as by enchantment; and -learned humanists—grave Romans, bearded Greeks, astute Orientals—from -all the centres of knowledge in the world, came to lecture on law, -science, and the classics, in brilliant Milan. Nor was the Court of -Venus, says Corio, less distinguished than the Court of Minerva. “All -were willing to concede their best and fairest to the Court of Cupid; -fathers their daughters, husbands their wives, brothers their sisters.” -And the laxity of Lombard manners which had scandalized the very Court -of Lorenzo de’ Medici, in 1471, was not less abandoned, not less -luxurious, although more natural and freer from cruelty under the -sceptre of the Regent Lodovico who appears at the head of this princely -retinue, a man majestic, suave, omniscient, as any Duke of Shakespeare’s -plays. - -And yet the real Duke was seldom seen, seldom heard. It was polite to -suppose him still a child. None the less every one knew he had been born -in the year 1469, amid incredible rejoicings; and many had seen the -great Lorenzo de’ Medici when he came to the christening, and had looked -on the magnificent necklace of diamonds which he had given the Duchess. -“Ah, you shall be godfather to all my children!” the Duke Galeazzo Maria -had cried with cordial _naïveté_. And now—ah, Time’s revenges!—the Duke -was murdered, the Duchess in exile, and the babe whom all men had -welcomed—a prisoner rather than a ward in the hands of the ambitious -Regent! - -Men began to murmur, and when Giangaleazzo was about eighteen his uncle -found himself unable any longer to defer his marriage. Years ago the -child had been betrothed to Isabel of Arragon, the granddaughter of the -King of Naples. She came to Milan in 1487. A little later Lodovico -himself married a young wife, Beatrice, daughter of Ercole d’Este, Duke -of Ferrara. - -So long as there had been no woman at the head of the Court of Milan, -there had been no discord. The young Duke, half a captive, had a doglike -docile affection for his tyrant; he was content to yield his place and -keep his title; and Lodovico was satisfied to have the place without the -name. But Isabel of Arragon was a Neapolitan and a Spaniard—a nature -passionate, arrogant, intense. In vain she urged her husband to assert -his rights. He promised what she would, and then confessed their -conversation to his uncle. When her child was born, and still the bride -of Lodovico sat on the throne which should have been her throne—Isabel -would no longer possess her soul in patience. This time she did not -appeal to her husband—a beautiful youth, soft as silk, innocent as -flowers, incapable of revenge or determination; she wrote to her father -and her grandfather at Naples, men as different from him as men can be. -She asserted her rights (“essendo giovane di grand’ animo”); she told -them of the intolerable yoke of Lodovico—of her husband, a grown man and -a father, yet kept in tutelage. She told them doubtless by her messenger -(no word of personal complaint appears in her letter) what Corio tells -us: that amid all the luxury of Milan, the Duke and the Duchess procured -with difficulty the bare necessities of life. There was much indignation -in her old home, and Alfonso wrote to Il Moro demanding the throne and -government of Milan for his son-in-law. “You make a laughing-stock of my -daughter—shall we endure to see our blood despised?”[112] Lodovico, as -his manner was, returned a soft answer. And a year or two went by in -procrastination and recrimination; but in 1493 the house of Naples, in -defence of the young Duke, declared war upon the Regent of Milan. - -Footnote 112: - - Corio, book vii. - -In another place I have spoken of the dismay and terror of that hour; -the still rage of Lodovico—a rage not unmixed with joy and with the -presentiment of success; the anger of his young wife, determined not to -quit her throne, determined to take at last from the detested Isabel -that one fine thing which as yet she had not dared to take from her: the -title of Duchess. My readers know how, on the one hand, Lodovico sent to -the Emperor admitting the illegal nature of the Sforza claim, and -entreating him (for a consideration) to bestow it on him anew; how, on -the other hand, he sent into France reminding Charles VIII. of the -French claim to Naples; and how the French crossed the Alps in -September; and how, in September also, very secretly, the Emperor’s -Investiture arrived in Milan; and how on the morrow after the French -left Milan the young Duke died (Teodoro di Pavia discovering in his body -the evident signs of poison); and how the people, overawed by the -neighbourhood of the French, were taught to acclaim Lodovico, -consecrated thus alike by Imperial privilege and popular voice; so that -he ruled at last as Duke in Milan. - -Meanwhile Isabel and her little son had wandered about in exile, vainly -seeking supporters. Success smiled on her rival, Beatrice, the mother of -two sons who each, after many adventures, should rule as Duke of Milan. -In September, 1496, while Isabel, her child in her arms, was discovering -the futility of resistance, Beatrice at Vigevano was entertaining -Maximilian. The great Emperor was at that time a man of thirty-seven, -with long whitening hair, dressed in a long black velvet coat, a black -woollen French cap, black stockings and sleeves; he wore no ornament -save a little gold chain with the order of the Golden Fleece. He was -under a vow to wear nothing but black until he could boast a Turkish -victory. But, melancholy and grizzled Don Quixote as he appeared, -Maximilian was no less an Emperor; and the Diary of Marino Sanuto shows -us the splendour with which the Duke and Duchess of Milan made him -welcome. - -That splendour was very costly. Not only did it compel the Duke to levy -grievous taxes (_grandissime exstrusione a li so populi_) on his -subjects, so that they were like desperate men, desiring any change. If -the expense of this entertainment was paid in tears, no less a price -should be exacted for its fatigue. In September the Duchess Beatrice was -pregnant: Marino Sanuto will conclude the story.[113] - -Footnote 113: - - “Nuove del mexe de Zener. 1497 O.S. - - “Chome a Milano nel Castello a dì 3, la duchessa, moglie dil ducha - presente Lodovico, chiamata Beatrice, figlia dil ducha di Ferrara, poi - parturido uno fiol morto; etiam la era morta 5 hore dopo el puto. Di - la qual morte el ducha steva in gran mesticia, serade le fenestre in - una camera a lume di candela. Et è da saper, come vidi una lettera, - che detta Duchessa morite a dì 2 zener, a hora 6 di note, et che in - quel zorno era stada di bona voglia in carretta per Milano, et fatto - ballar in Castello fin hore 2 di note. Et lassò do soli figlioli, uno - chiamato Maximiliano ch’è Conte di Pavia e l’altro, Sforza, di anni 3. - La qual morte el Ducha non poteva tolerar, per il grande amor le - portava et diceva non si voller più curar ne de figlioli, ne di Stato, - ne di cossa mondana; et apena voleva viver. Stava in una camera per - mesticia tutta di panni negri, et cussi stete per 15 zorni. Et che in - questa notte instessa in che la Duchessa morite, caschò a terra li - muri dil suo zardin, non essendo sta ni vento ni terra moto; el qual - da alcuni fu tolto per mal augurio.” - - “Diarii di Marino Sanudo, January 9, 1496.” - - “News of the month of January, 1496 (Old Style). - -“How at Milan, in the castle, on the third day of the month, the -Duchess, wife of the reigning Duke Lodovico, Beatrice by name, daughter -of the Duke of Ferrara, was delivered of a still-born son; _etiam_ she -herself was dead five hours after the child. And the said death hath -plunged the Duke in heavy sorrow, so that he keepeth his room, the -shutters closed and candles lit in daytime. And ’tis also reported—as I -saw it set down in another letter—that the said Duchess died on the -second day of the month, at six o’clock after noon; and that very day -she had gone riding in her carriage through the streets of Milan, and -had held a ball at the castle until two o’clock after dinner. And she -hath left only two children behind her, boys—the one, Maximilian, Count -of Pavey; the other, Sforza, three years of age. And the Duke cannot -suffer the sorrow of this loss, for the great love he bore to his wife; -and he saith he hath no heart for his children, nor his State nor for -aught under the sun; so that almost is he weary of his life. And, out of -sadness, he keepeth his chamber, which is hung all in black; and there -for a fortnight he hath shut himself in. And ’tis said that, in the -selfsame night the Duchess died, the walls of her garden fell crashing -to the ground, and yet was there neither tempest, wind nor earthquake; -which thing was held by many for a sign of very evil omen.” - - * * * * * - -Last year I was in Lombardy, and, as a faithful adherent of the -Viscontis, I stayed a little in Pavia. I found it a rather gloomy little -Lombard town, white-washed and paven. Here and there a wine-coloured -wall or tower broke the pallid monotony of the streets. The famous -fortress, where Isabel of Arragon eat her heart in bitterness so many -years, still exists, much rebuilt and altered indeed, but always a mass -of fine red colour. In Pavia, however, there was nothing so interesting -to me as those phantoms of vanished Viscontis and long-supplanted -Sforzas that seemed so strangely out of place in this sad little sordid -university town. And among these ranks of tragic shadows, the least -forgiven, the least beloved, was always the Duchess Beatrice. - -I had known her too long, the youthful and charming Lady Macbeth of -Lombardy. I knew her as well as one can know a person, familiar through -the gossip of acquaintance, although unseen and distant. I had heard of -her as a haughty and ambitious woman, accepting with a smile the crimes -that placed the crown of Milan on her head. She appeared as some -Herodias of Luini’s, exquisite and sinister. And yet I knew she had been -dearly worshipped in her lifetime and long lamented in her tomb. There -are such Sirens, heartless and chill themselves, but capable of seizing -an honest love with the same hands that grasp at a blood-stained -treasure. Such, in my eyes, was the adored and evil wife of Lodovico il -Moro. - -It was Christmas-time and cold; with difficulty I roused myself to visit -the Certosa. It is six miles, I suppose, from Pavia. The wretched -carriage slowly dragged along through the muddy country; and from the -whitened window one felt rather than saw the immense desolation of the -view. On either hand of the raised road, a sluggish canal, and beyond a -monotonous landscape of brown marshy pastures and bright green rice -fields flecked with water, across which the scant snow drifted. The road -seemed to extend for ever in front, unbroken, unturning. Suddenly in the -middle of the country the carriage stopped; I walked a few steps up a -muddy lane. To the right over a wall there appeared a great dome, with -rose-red minarets, with spires of pale red, ivory and marble, among -innumerable shaft-like towers tipped with cream-white columns. It is the -Certosa. - -At another season and in better health I should have found much to -linger over in the great façade of the Certosa, fantastic, incoherent as -a Midsummer Night’s Dream. Every inch of the front is covered thickly -with ornament in high relief—Roman emperors and paladins of chivalry, -eagles with praying angels on their outspread pinions, exquisite maidens -floating full-length on a dolphin’s back, Sirens suckling their -unearthly babes, hippogriffs, Prophets of Israel: strange, unexpected as -the visions of delirium, they are assembled there. But, alone, in the -bitter wind, I glanced at it all for a moment and entered the vast -foundation of Giangaleazzo Visconti. Great halls, enormous, cold, -spoiled as much as may be by the seventeenth century; a few good -pictures by Borgognone, many bad ones; posthumous portraits of the great -Viscontis: it was not so interesting as I had supposed. - -Still I wandered on, making reflections on the difference of type in the -Sforza and Visconti heads: the older tyrants keen-faced, refined with -delicate, bone-less oval faces, and thin firm lips ridged out in a -narrow line. There is something wolf-like in the long pointed noses, the -pointed chins, low foreheads, as well as in the keen eyes, narrow and -high in the head; altogether an interesting type, subtle, cruel, -intellectual, and fierce. The Sforzas with their Wellington noses, their -strongly marked eyebrows, prim-pursed lips and rounded chins, seem a -square-faced kindly race of captains. Lodovico il Moro himself is there, -with the fat face and fine chin of the elderly Napoleon, the delicate -beak-like nose of Wellington; a small querulous neat-lipped mouth, and -immense eyebrows, stretched like the talons of an eagle across the low -forehead, complete the odd, refined physiognomy of the man. I looked at -him with interest for a moment. But there, straight before me, stood the -tomb of the wife he lost so young, the Duchess Beatrice. - -To think that she is dead, and to think she was a woman! Impossible. She -is a lively child, fallen asleep in playtime: motionless, but full of a -contained vivacity. Her tumbled curls hang loosely round her shoulders, -and stand up in a little frizz above the rounded childish forehead. As -she lies there, a look of infantine candour is diffused over the soft, -adorable, irregular features. She has straight, brief eyebrows like a -little girl, but her closed eyelids are rounded like the petals of a -thick white flower, and richly fringed with lashes. The little nose is -of no particular shape—not quite a straight nose, but certainly not a -snub; it is the prettiest nose at Court, with a rounded end like a -child’s. The cheeks, too, are round apple-cheeks, not in the least like -the Herodias of Luini; and round is the neat bewitching chin. But her -chief beauty is her mouth—a mouth with the soft-closed lips of a dear -child pretending to be asleep, yet smiling as if to say, “Soon I shall -jump up and throw my arms round your neck, and you will be so -surprised!” - -The round head rises from a long plump throat. The small figure too is -slender and plump at once, and very small, full of life still, it seems, -under the pretty tight silk dress, with the slashed and purfled sleeves, -and the long train of brocade, so lovingly, so carefully arranged not to -encumber nor hide those little pattened feet, that were so fain of -dancing and seem so ready to awake and dance again. This, then, is the -famous Beatrice!—I looked and looked, at last I understood not only her, -but the love of Lodovico: “And so, dear child, thou canst not live -without a crown?—Ah well! What shouldst thou know of murder, dishonour, -and the ruin of great states? Thou wilt never understand these gloomy -things, and I shall pay the price—Ah God in heaven, I thank Thee for the -gift of an immortal soul, since I may lose it for the pleasure of this -child!” - -Perhaps it was in this way that Lodovico reasoned; or perhaps it may be -that at heart Macbeth is no less ambitious than his wife. Who knows? The -wife, at least, must stand for something. At least, some share in the -ruin of their country must be accorded to these three women—Bonne, who -recalled Lodovico to Milan; Isabel, who inspired the war of Arragon and -Sforza; and Beatrice, whose ambition urged her husband to invite the -French to Italy. - - - - - THE FLIGHT OF PIERO DE’ MEDICI. - - - (OCTOBER-NOVEMBER, 1494.) - -When, in the October of 1494, the King of France marched south from -Asti, a torpor of stupefaction fell upon the princes of Italy. For the -last three years there was no one of them but had coquetted more or less -with France; there was no one of them but was the enemy of that arrogant -house of Arragon which had lost Scutari to Venice, and which had dared -reprove the usurpation of Milan by Lodovico Sforza. Charles was coming -into Italy to dethrone these evil and malignant princes, “fathers of all -treason,” as the author of “De Bello Gallico” has called them; “tyrants -by whom I think that Nero himself would seem a saint.” But now that the -French were actually in Lombardy, it struck the Italian despots with -ominous force that he might not be content with only Naples. Few of them -had any just title to their possessions; none of them, save Venice, -could resist the power of France. “The princes of Italy,” wrote the -Venetian secretary, “aghast at this passing of the mountains, tried to -arrange that the King should pass no farther south, each one doubting -for his own estate, and doubting most of all the enthusiasm of his own -subjects.” For if the tyrants of Italy dreaded the advent of the French, -the populace—the poor, starved, degraded slaves of these illegal -despots—welcomed their coming with open arms. “They were so called and -cried upon,” goes on our author, “so invoked by all the populace of -Italy, that there was none who could withstand them, for all the people -said _Benedictus qui venit in nomine Domini_.” - -Sorely he was needed, that _Flagellum Dei_, of whom the inspired voice -of Savonarola prophesied daily in the great Cathedral of Florence. -Sorely he was required. For that autumnal Italy which at their coming -the Frenchmen found so fair, was no more than a waving green enchanted -garden full of poisons—poisons for the body, swift or slow, used without -scruple by Venice and Milan as a means to power, by Rome as an easy way -to wealth, by Naples for the vile gratification of cruel passions. The -terrible pages from the “Secreta Secretissima,” published by Lamansky in -1884, the folios of Marino Sanuto’s “Diaries,” the chronicles which fill -the “Archivio Storico,” are full of tragic murders, the more tragical -because so commonplace; and the quiet, impartial voice of Philippe de -Commines falters when he speaks of “les pitiez d’Italie.” - -Not only poison for the enviable, slavery for the conquered, famine and -cruelty for the poor, and treachery among the princes of the earth; for -all alike there was a corrupt and horrible dissolution of moral -restraints. “There is no city in Italy,” records the Venetian, “not Rome -or Naples, not Bologna, Florence, Milan, or Ferrara, not my own Venice -even, that is holier than the Cities of the Plain.” Milan, with the -frescoes of Leonardo fresh upon the walls; Venice, where the -girl-madonnas of Giovanni Bellini were not yet all begun; Florence, -peopled with the saints of Botticelli, with the angels of the aged -Gozzoli upon the walls of Piero de’ Medici’s palace; Ferrara, where the -youthful Ariosto dwelt—these homes of the brightest and the fairest art -were morally no better than the Rome of the Borgias or the Naples of -Ferdinand and Alfonso. They were vile dens of corruption. And yet the -painted angels of Florence, the saints of Lombardy, were _not_ a mere -external fashion, a refined hypocrisy; they were the expression of a -movement in Italian hearts deeper than even this permeating evil—pure -underneath the mask of their perversion. When the French came into -Lombardy they found a contagion of spiritual enthusiasm among the -people; they encountered holy women who neither ate, drank, nor slept, -but dwelt in a continual ecstasy; and as they went along the roads the -poorer inhabitants came out to meet them, bearing palms in their hands, -and having on their pale and haggard faces a strange exalted smile. -“Blessed is he,” they sang, “who cometh in the name of the Lord;” for -the people were eager to be quit of the sin that hemmed them round. They -embraced the knees of their conquerors, and suffered willingly a great -deal of hardship at their hands, glad to be purified for ever by the -Scourge of God. - -Had it not been for the welcome that they met, the French could never -have penetrated into Italy. They came ill-provided, without good -generals, without money. “There’s not a penny in the treasury,” wrote -Orleans to Ridolfi, in October, “and I have spent four thousand ducats -of my own to pay the troops.” The Italian despots trusted that this lack -of means would cause the French to retire before the winter, and Orleans -was in secret treaty with them to this end. Milan, says this interested -advocate, would be enough to satisfy the honour of France—Milan and a -yearly homage paid by Naples to the Crown of France.[114] But these -designs were frustrated by the enthusiasm with which the French were -received in the invaded provinces. The women brought their jewels to pay -the troops; the men threw open the gates of the cities; every difficulty -was overridden, for, says Commines, touched with the grave exaltation of -Italy, “God was Himself our leader: _Dieu monstroit conduire -l’entreprise_.” - -Footnote 114: - - See Desjardins I., “Négociations diplomatiques dans la Toscane.” - -“At our first arrival,” he goes on, “the people honoured us as saints, -supposing all faith and virtue to be in us; but this opinion endured not -long.” The rude French soldiery—Gascons, Normans, Swiss, and German -mercenaries—pathetically ignorant of the fancied aureole playing round -their weatherbeaten faces, marched through Italy as through any other -conquered country. At Rapallo they put the town to the sword; they took -Fivizzano by a murderous assault; they shed much blood at Pontremoli; -for they could not understand that they seemed the Elect of Heaven, and -they sought by fierce reprisals to keep up a military prestige. But if -in Lombardy, in Lunigiana, the rude passage of the troops had to some -extent dispelled the illusions of the people—where the army had not yet -arrived the cities with open gates awaited it in holy awe. Arragon -retired from point to point without a battle fought. The subjects of -Catarina Sforza threatened her with rebellion if she refused submission -to the French; Bologna, against the will of Bentivoglio, insisted on -making peace with Charles. And in the Duomo of Florence, where -Savonarola preached of the Purifying Scourge of God, the people shouted, -“Franza, Franza!” where they were only used to sob in bitter patience, -“Misericordia.” And to these enthusiasts, impatient of Medicean luxury, -it was no drawback that the King, their deliverer, was a mere ugly -youth, “more a monster than a man,” as Guicciardini plainly states, -quite uncultured, and knowing neither Greek nor Latin. “In fact,” as the -Milanese Corio remarked, “an uninstructed person, though none the less -able to address his soldiery in telling terms, so that for love of him -they dash upon the enemy, shouting, ‘Alive or dead!’” In the autumn of -1494 this ugly, bright-eyed youth had inspired an equal devotion in the -populace of Florence. - -The people were led by the monk Savonarola; but many of the old -Florentine families (the Nerli, Gualterotti, Sonderini, Capponi) were no -less anxious than the people to banish their _parvenu_ tyrant. Out of -all the crowd of monks, enthusiasts, bankers, patricians, and -politicians which made up the popular party, two _silhouettes_ stand -strongly forth. One is the preacher Savonarola—a man of middle height, -of dark complexion, and sanguine, bilious temperament. At forty-two his -face is lined with seams and wrinkles—a harsh, strong face with a sweet -expression, like Samson’s honey in the lion’s mouth; eyes that flash and -flame from under shaggy black eyebrows and shed their spiritual gleam -over the heavy Roman nose and the large mouth with the loose, thick lips -of the orator firmly closed and drawn into a painful smile; a kind, -noble, spiritual, tragic face, with something mad in it, or something at -the least that must pass for mad in this uninspired and transitory -world. - -This was the man who for a good four years was virtually the ruler of -Florence; this was the man who, more than any other, helped on the cause -of France in Italy. “A man of holy life,” says Commines, who knew him. -And Guicciardini describes him: “Full of charity, of natural goodness, -and religion—so clever in philosophy, one would think he himself had had -the making of it; without a trace of lust or avarice; but if he had a -vice it was simulation, the prompting of a proud ambition.” One more -voice arrests us: “A treacherous friar, worthy the end of the wicked.” -But it is Marino Sanuto who speaks, the political enemy of Savonarola -and a personal stranger to his qualities. - -Behind the strong profile of the friar we note another head, also worthy -of remark. This is Piero Capponi, a man of old Florentine family, -republican by descent. Sturdily built and square, with brilliant eyes, -he has a certain air of a courser sniffing battle; brief and resolute in -speech, vigorously mature in age, he seems the very embodiment of virile -energy. He is rich, for an astrologer at his birth having foretold his -death in battle, he was persuaded by his father to devote himself to -commerce. The man worked at money-getting with the restless, dominant -force he put into everything he did, and made his fortune in a sort of -fury. Then he threw up his career, having enough, and entered public -life at thirty years of age. A republican, his restless need of activity -made him accept the Medicean service. He had been ambassador in France, -and was as French as Savonarola. “See them near, like ghosts,” he used -to say, “and there is nothing to be afraid of in these French.” Although -at this time the right arm of the Republic, his patrician birth, his -acquaintance with the magnificence of princes, made him recoil from the -extremer measures of the monk. A man of the greatest spirit, the -staunchest energy, the very width of his views and his natural love of -change made him a danger to a peaceful but imperfect Government. Born to -be a great captain, he loved, above all things, a difficult campaign; -and he spent his life in fighting alternately his enemies and his -friends, until at last the astrologer’s prediction, true in spite of -human prudence, set a bridle on his martial soul. - -These two men represent the two parties who chiefly desired the advent -of the French—the enthusiasts, the poor, the children of Savonarola, and -the powerful burghers, as rich and may be better born than Piero de’ -Medici, who resented their tyrant’s views on the republic, who resented -almost more his alliance with the detested Spanish autocrats of Naples. -On the other side—the side of the Orsini, of Cardinal Bibbiena, of -Bernardò del Nero, and the aristocratic party, there is but one man that -can arrest us as Capponi or Savonarola must arrest us, and that is Piero -de’ Medici himself. - -Piero and the King of France were mortal enemies; the King of Naples had -no more resolved ally than Medici, though the French inclinations of the -city prevented him from showing the true colour of his opinions. He was, -in fact, “immoderately bound up with Arragon, and determined to chance -the same fortune,” as Guicciardini tells us; since in return for this -alliance he had arranged that Ferdinand of Naples should support him in -turning his old republic into a new monarchy. Naples in those days -represented in Italy the kingdom as distinguished from the Signory; it -was the natural pole-star of the aristocrat. And Piero was drawn to the -south as much by sentiment as by inclination; his mother Clarice, his -young wife Alfonsina, both came of the Roman family of Orsini. - -In 1494 Piero de’ Medici was about four-and-twenty years of age. He was -beautiful in person and very vigorous. He was clever at games and -sports; he had a charming way of pronouncing his words, a winning voice, -and a great facility in making impromptu verses. But this handsome, -graceful personage was not popular in Florence. He was haughty and -arrogant beyond expression, subject to furies of animal anger, proud, -and cruel. He would have men waylaid at night in the street and beaten -violently by private bravos. He was so absolute, that even in matters he -did not pretend to understand, he would govern all according to his -fancy. And this aristocrat of a free republic was as fiery, vain, -careless, and impatient as he was presumptuous. While the people -murmured “Franza” with white excited faces; while Savonarola was -thundering his prophecies of the _Flagellum Dei_; while news of the -massacres and the irresistible advance of France struck a religious -terror into Tuscany—the young head of the state left the garrisons -unprovided and unguarded; not a week’s provisions in Sarzana or Pietra -Santa; not a handful of infantry in the fastnesses of the hills. While -winds of rebellion, war, and outrage swept the city, he, the one man -unmoved, was to be seen as usual playing _pallone_ in the public -streets, a light-minded aristocrat, full of a certain easy and handsome -bravado, caring for no one’s safety, not even for his own. - -But even Piero, as he knocked the tennis-ball against the palace front, -must now and then have felt a certain twinge of anxiety. For every day -brought news of the farther retreat of Arragon, and only success, and -brilliant success, could justify the Arragonese alliance in the eyes of -the Florentines. Already that aristocratic alliance had touched the -mercantile republic in a sensitive point: in June the King of France had -expelled the Florentine bankers and merchants out of his kingdom. This -meant ruin to many honourable families, and decided the burghers to join -the party of Savonarola, so weakening the Medicean faction that people -whispered it was Capponi who had thus advised King Charles, in order to -disgust the impoverished merchants with their tyrant. But the documents -published in Desjardins contradict this supposition. It was from -Lodovico il Moro, the determined enemy of Florence and of Piero, that -King Charles accepted this happy suggestion. - -The burghers were all for France, in order to regain their commerce. The -people, under Savonarola, the Republican families under Capponi, desired -nothing more than the advent of King Charles. The very cousins of Piero -himself had become so French, that a year ago he had exiled them to -their country villas, where they lived in comfortable durance, -surrounded by the light of popular martyrdom. To resist all these varied -forces, Piero, on his side, could count a few old friends of his father, -such as Bernardò del Nero and his secretary Bibbiena, an ambitious -priest, and his wife’s brother, Pagolo Orsini, captain of the forces of -the republic. - -The situation was grave indeed, but he took it lightly, with a facile -temerity that would not condescend to prudence. On the 3rd of October -his ambassador at Milan wrote that the French spoke of wintering in Pisa -and Sarzana. Yet not a single fortress had a week’s provisions. So late -as the 22nd of October, in answer to a last appeal from France, he sent -the Bishop of Arezzo to King Charles with a vague, exasperating, -indecisive answer. The same week the two cousins of Piero escaped from -their villas, and rode post-haste to the French camp. “Sire,” they cried -to Charles, “be not angry with Florence. The tyrant is against you, but -you have the faithful devotion of the people.” The King was well -inclined to believe the two young men with whom he had often practised, -and who had suffered a year’s imprisonment for his sake. “We do not -confuse the people of Florence with the governor,” answered the Council. -“The last alone is the King’s enemy.” And, departing from Piacenza, the -armies of France marched on the Florentine territories. - -In a few days they were on the Tuscan border. At Fivizzano and -Pontremoli they had so avenged a slight resistance that the gates flew -open at their approach. Who dare resist the Scourge of God? Terror and -awe bent every head before them. In Florence the populace surged along -the narrow streets, and declared they would not resist the King of -France. Three days after Piero had sent off the Bishop of Arezzo, a -popular tumult seemed ready to burst at any moment. - -What could he do? The French were now within fifty miles of Pisa, and -though the mountain fortresses ought to have kept them at bay all the -winter long, Piero remembered too late that he had forgotten to -provision them; that he had neglected to call the Pisan hostages into -Florence, and that Pisa hated her cruel mistress, and was certain to -revolt to France. Only one course suggested itself to the desperate -young man, and this course was so adventurous, romantic, and unusual, -that it captivated at once his unsteady imagination. Many years ago, -when Arragon had worsted Florence on the battlefield, Lorenzo de’ Medici -had gone as his own ambassador to Naples, running, it is true, a great -risk of steel or poison, but by his fascinating address making a devoted -friend of an exasperated enemy. Piero determined to follow the example -of his father. On the 26th of October he heard that the French were -arriving before Sarzana, within two days’ march of Florence. On the -evening of that day the tyrant of Florence secretly escaped from his own -palace, left the city in the dusk of evening, and rode through the chill -autumn night as far as Empoli. - - - II. - - “EMPOLI, _26 Oct., 1494_. - - “_Piero de’ Medici to the Signory of Florence._ - -“Because I believe I ought not to suffer imputation or reproach for that -which, according to my mind and feeble judgment, appeared to me the most -salutary remedy to preserve my menaced country, I depart from you to -offer myself to the most Christian king, and to turn on to my own head -the storm that menaces my native land. Nor is there any consequent -punishment, but I would rather suffer it in my own person than behold it -inflicted on this republic. - -“After all, I am not the first of my house to go on such an enterprise; -and since there is no fatigue, hardship, cost, nay not even death -itself, but, endured for any one of you, it would appear to me a -benefit, how much more do I not welcome these rude chances for the sake -of the universal city! - -“Be sure, if I return it will be to bring good tidings to you and to the -city; either this, or I shall leave my life in the camp of the enemy. - -“To you, in this extreme moment, I recommend my brothers and my -children. And, for the faith and affection you bare to the bones of -Lorenzo my father, I pray you be content to pray to God for me.”[115] - -Footnote 115: - - “Négociations diplomatiques dans la Toscane,” vol. i. p. 587, _et - seq._ - - -------------- - - “EMPOLI, _26 Oct_. - - “_Piero de’ Medici to Bibbiena._ - -“Comfort, dear Bibbiena, my little household troop till I return; and, -above all things, be good to Alfonsina and to poor little Lorenzio[116] -who has none of the blame to bear. All of you, pray to God for me and -for the city.” - -Footnote 116: - - His infant son, born 1492, in after days the father of Catherine de’ - Medici. - - -------------- - - “PISA, _27 Oct., 1494_. - - “_Piero de’ Medici to Bibbiena._ - -“I arrived in Pisa this evening, very weary with the road, with my own -thoughts, with the rain that has rained the live-long day, and with the -uncomfortable bed I had last night.... ’Tis but a line I send you, only -that you may assure my magnificent Messer Marino (the Neapolitan -Ambassador) of the complete devotion that I bear his master... A -devotion which to day _traho ad immolandum_! Perchance it is my fault I -did not earlier discover the desertion of the Florentines, the want of -money, arms, and credit that I had; but ’tis so difficult to doubt in -such a city as our Florence. Let me be excused before His Majesty, since -I am not the first sick man who has gone to death’s door before he has -discovered he was mortal. In short, tell him this, that even unto hell I -will keep my faith to His Majesty King Alfonso (_insino all’ Inferno -conserveró la fede mia al Signor Re Alfonso_). And perhaps in my present -low and humble state, I may serve him better as a private gentleman in -the camp of France than I served him as the first in Florence.” - - -------------- - - “PIETRA SANTA, _29 Oct_. - - “_Piero de’ Medici to Bibbiena._ - -“I beg you ask the Signory to send here at once 500 foot. With so much -aid we might hold out, at least until I have made good terms.... There -is not much to eat, ’tis true, but there is always something. And send -off the men-at-arms to Pisa. - -“I wrote to the Duke of Milan when I was at Pisa. I believe him to have -reached Sarzana.... Arrange all these matters that there be no hitch.” - - -------------- - - “_30 Oct., 1494._ - - “_Piero de’ Medici to Bibbiena._ - -“Last night the French lords came here to Pietra Santa, and were most -honourably received. The Bishop of St. Malo tells me the King will be at -Florence _viâ_ Pisa in four or five days. - -“It is to fetch _me_ they have come. The King’s herald is with them, I -am just off to Sarzana with St. Malo and two other gentle lords. Rejoice -with me at the honour they have done me. These lords were sent here on -purpose to receive me! Tell the Eight! Tell Alfonsina! Tell -Monsignore.[117] Tell Giuliano!” - -Footnote 117: - - The boy-cardinal, Giovanni de’ Medici, Piero’s brother, afterwards Leo - X. - - - III. - -Piero de’ Medici set out for the French camp from Pietra Santa on the -30th of October. Although the winter was afterwards so mild, the autumn -had been severe, and the roads were marvellously deep with snow. All -round Sarzana there extends a barren country, desolate, and full of -little hills. At last a long ride of thirty miles brought the tired -horsemen in sight of the French camp. The tents were pitched all round -the frontier-fortress, a strong place in bad repair, which had cost the -Republic fifty thousand florins not many years ago. Sarzana was guarded -by Sarzanello, a fort surrounded by great towers built on a steep hill -above the town. When Piero arrived the French were beginning to bombard -Sarzanello with that strange, improved artillery of theirs which caused -such panic in Italy. The young man, alone in the midst of an enemy he -had done his best to ruin, assailed by visions of death and prison, was -exhausted with fatigue, with restrained terror, and with the novelty of -his position. The French lords led him at once to the tent of Charles. -Contrary to his expectations, the King—a young man of his own -age—received him kindly, even benignly. They were not going to kill him -after all. In the exquisite relaxation of his dread, Piero sank upon his -knees before the King, stammered an excuse, and hung his handsome head. -“I will do everything your Majesty may require!” - -Where was now that devotion to Arragon, which (as he told Bibbiena with -so proud a swagger) _traho ad immolandum_? Where was that loyalty, -“which I shall preserve in hell itself”? They had vanished to that dim -limbo of generous resolutions where they would meet his fealty to the -Republic, his love of country, and his self-sacrificing affection for -his people. All these golden sentiments had completely vanished from the -mind of Piero. The warm tent, after the long snowy ride, the kind -reception, so different from his terrified previsions, the amiable -friendliness of the French lords, who showed no humiliating surprise at -his visit, all combined to fill him with a sense of genial relief. After -all, Capponi was right: “Look at these French near, and there is nothing -to be afraid of.” Piero, if he was afraid at all, was only filled with -that pleasant awe which the reverential _parvenu_ experiences when -received on kindly terms in aristocratic society. He had not quite -recovered yet from the honour that the French had shown him in sending -St. Malo and the King’s herald to receive him. Perhaps on the rack Piero -might have kept his word an hour or so. It vanished quite out of -remembrance as soon as he felt the soft influence of royal converse. - -And this was the King, the second Charlemagne, the marvel of nations, -the terrible _Flagellum Dei_! Piero, accustomed to the kind voice, -raised his eyes, and beheld a very small man of four-and-twenty, -unusually youthful in aspect, with high shoulders, a sickly air, and -extraordinarily thin long legs. He looked not quite grown up; and he was -certainly very ugly, with his large head, long nose, wide mouth, and -timid, delicate appearance. His ugliness was, however, redeemed by a -pair of singularly beautiful and shining eyes, whose intelligent, kind, -straightforward glance promised a liberal and honest nature. The King -was, in fact, both liberal and honest; a simple, inconsequent, -honourable creature, too nonchalant to make himself obeyed, and too -incapable of dissimulation to win by art what he could not gain by -force. He was, we learn from Commines, “the gentlest creature alive; of -no great sense, but of so good a nature it were impossible to find a -kinder creature; a youth but newly crept out of the shell.” This -description does not promise a very terrible monarch, or an insidious -diplomatist, but all the duplicity of Lodovico il Moro could not have -gained a greater triumph than the careless good-nature of Charles -achieved over the flattered Florentine. - -The King sat like a quaint elfin child in his tent among his splendid -counsellors. These polite and courtly people had rather a more decided -smile than usual about their pleasant lips as they glanced towards -Piero. The young Florentine was submerged, drowned, in his satisfaction -with the King and with his own reception. He was on the best terms with -his friend, the King of France. Charles, who did not quite understand -the situation, asked a great deal more than ever he hoped to obtain from -penitent Florence, thinking he would have to abate his demands (a few -weeks in Italy had taught him how to bargain), especially when dealing -with a mercantile person like Piero de’ Medici. He put forward in fact -an extravagant requisition: the Florentine troops were all to be -dismissed (the troops that Piero had ordered yesterday), the fortresses -of Sarzana, of Sarzanello, Librafatto, Pisa, Leghorn, and Pietra Santa -were to be delivered to the King; his army was to have free passage, and -he was to receive a loan of 200,000 ducats. Now the French party of -Florence were prepared to allow the King to lodge in Pisa, and to grant -him a free passage, but more than this had never been dreamed of by -Savonarola or Capponi. Piero, however, when he heard the King’s demand, -did not abate a jot of it. Who was he to contradict the King? (“I go,” -he had said; “I go head down in front of peril to bring you back a -welcome message, or else to leave my bones in the camp of the enemy!”) -He immediately agreed to grant the whole, yielding the entire force and -estate of Florence into the power of France. “Those that negotiated with -the said Peter,” says Commines, “have often told me, scoffing and -jesting at him, that they wondered to see him so lightly condescend to -so weighty a matter, granting more than they looked for.” And -Guicciardini adds: “There was no Frenchman there that did not greatly -marvel that Piero so easily consented to matters of so great importance, -because without a doubt the King would have accepted very far inferior -conditions.” But Piero, the hero of fidelity, the new Lorenzo, did not -think of this. “I require the six fortresses, the dismissal of your -army, free passage, and a loan of 200,000 ducats,” repeated the slow, -stammering, timid voice of the King. “I agree,” said Piero. - -There was a silence in the tent, half-amused, half-painful, a feeling as -if they had overreached a little child. - - - IV. - -Piero de’ Medici was not the only Italian tyrant who had come to visit -the camp of Charles before Sarzana. The day after Piero had arrived, -Lodovico il Moro of Milan, who had been called home from Piacenza by the -most timely death of his nephew, returned this time as Duke of Milan, to -the tents of his allies. He had not expected to encounter there the ally -of Alfonso, the tyrant of Florence, and the meeting was not pleasant. -Lodovico had an especial dislike to Piero de’ Medici; firstly, because -Florence possessed the forts of Pietra Santa and Sarzana, which used to -belong to the Genoese, of whom Lodovico was the suzerain; secondly, -because Piero was the staunchest ally of Arragon in Italy; and lastly, -because on one occasion that charming fool had actually outwitted the -wise Lodovico himself. On this occasion Piero, suspecting Lodovico of a -Janus face that turned different fronts to Florence and to France, had -hidden the French ambassador behind a screen in his audience-chamber, -while he made Lodovico’s ambassador protest that Charles had no surer -enemy than his master. The French envoy had been very properly -scandalized, but instead of preserving a quiet distrust of Milan, King -Charles had proclaimed his wrongs from the house-tops; Lodovico had -persuaded him they were inventions of the enemy, and henceforth had -vowed an eternal hate to Piero. - -Thus there was a personal coolness between the Duke of Milan and the -head of the Florentine Republic; but on political grounds their meeting -was still more awkward. Lodovico il Moro was a man who loved to fish in -troubled waters. He had sown dislike and distrust between the French and -Florence; he had meant the Florentines to keep the troops of Charles all -the winter imprisoned in the fastnesses of their hills. And when in the -spring, the King, disgusted with the Neapolitan enterprise, should -return to France, he had hoped to obtain for himself whatever places the -French had gained from Tuscany. Lodovico had gained the great object -which had made him call the French into Italy; he was Duke of Milan. He -now wished no farther progress for Charles. He hoped that the King might -winter in Tuscany, and then retire to France, having handed over to -Milan Sarzana and Pietra Santa, and leaving behind an intimidated -Naples, a plundered Florence, a triumphant and victorious Milan. Judge -of his immense displeasure when he discovered that, in the few days of -his absence, Piero de’ Medici had delivered to the King the passes of -the Apennines. - -Lodovico was of that far-sighted order of politicians who, when a -cherished project fails, have ever an under-study ready to supply its -place. It was an unfortunate fact that nothing now prevented Charles -from making himself the lord of Italy; but at any rate Milan might gain -possession of the towns in the Lunigiana. Lodovico went to Charles, and -asked him for the six fortresses which Piero had yielded yesterday. But -Charles, though a very simple and youthful person, was not a fool; he -would not close himself in a trap in the South of Italy with all the -passes homeward shut behind him. He answered Lodovico that he preferred -to keep the fortresses, at least until after his return from Naples. The -Duke of Milan was a grave and modest man, quiet in manner and majestic, -never irascible or angry; he feigned to agree with his ally the King of -France. Yes, it would certainly be wiser for Charles to keep the passes; -and, to add a point to his conciliation, he remembered that Milan owed -the King the 30,000 ducats due for the investiture of Genoa. - -But, notwithstanding his beautiful manners, the Duke of Milan did not -smile when, in the King’s camp, he encountered the man who had spoiled -all his well-considered policy. He had left Milan at an awkward moment -in order to get the promise of Sarzana and Pietra Santa. The King had -promised him nothing; had got beyond his reach, had just cost him 30,000 -ducats; and all this was the fault of Piero. The young Florentine saw -the look of irritation on Lodovico’s face, and in his eternal -self-preoccupation he thought it due to the fact that he had received no -official welcome into Tuscany. - -“I rode out to meet you yesterday,” cried Piero, “but I could not find -you anywhere. You must have missed the way!” - -“It is true, young man,” said Lodovico, in his grave, sinister voice; -“it is true that one of us has missed the way. But it is possible that -_you_ may be the man.” - -Charles—looking on, understanding little, thinking far more of the -falcon on his wrist than of the manœuvres and intrigues of these -Italians—Charles was no match for either of these men. And yet, in -coming to his camp, each of them had missed the way. Had the merciful -curtain of the future been for a moment lifted on that evening, either -had swooned with terror to see to what end that mistaken path should -lead them. What is this? An old French street, surging with an eager -mob, through which there jostles a long line of guards and archers; in -their midst a tall man, dressed in black camlet, seated on a mule. In -his hands he holds his biretta, and lifts up, unshaded, his pale, -courageous face, showing in all his bearing a great contempt of death. -It is Lodovico, Duke of Milan, riding to his cage at Loches. - -And there, in the rapidly running Garigliano, where the French soldiery -are struggling in their all too hasty flight, that dead, comely face, -swirled here and there by the dark, washing waters—that is the face of -Piero de’ Medici. - - - V. - -But the end is not yet; a little longer the cunning Lodovico and the -empty-headed Medici have still their parts to play, and for the next few -days the part of Piero is no easy one. He has to answer to Florence for -having delivered her, without her own consent, into the hands of the -French. - -For the Signory were still in ignorance of this sad disposal of their -fate. So soon as they discovered the flight of Piero they sent off seven -envoys to the camp of Charles to treat with the King, “with Piero or -without Piero,” and to express the thanks of Florence for his honourable -welcome accorded “to our fellow-citizen, Piero de’ Medici.” When the -seven Florentine negotiators arrived at the French camp they found the -French had been three days already in Sarzana and Sarzanello; they found -that their fellow-citizen had dispossessed them of all that they had -gained in a hundred years or more—of Sarzana, their frontier town; -Pietra Santa, which had cost them 150,000 ducats and a two months’ -siege; of Leghorn and Pisa—her seaports, the two eyes of -Florence—without which her commerce were impossible: and he had -promised, in the name of the Republic, the extravagant subsidy of -200,000 ducats! - -Before the bad news could reach home the Signory had sent off a second -embassy of five: Tanai dei Nerli, Savonarola, Capponi, and two other -staunch Republicans, Guelfs and democrats, the leaders of the French -party. They arrived to discover in their late opponent a more disastrous -friend, so French that he had ceased to be Florentine at all. Capponi -then and there determined to prevent the continuance of the Medici in -Florence. Savonarola spoke words of tragic warning to the astonished -King: “If thou respect not Florence, God shall whip thee with His whips -and scourges.” But no eloquence and no resolve could change the fact -that the French were in the fortresses. - -So the twelve ambassadors mournfully set their faces homewards; and -Piero also returned to Florence—Piero, brilliant, presumptuous, arrogant -as ever. There was no sign of shame or sorrow about him; but even he -could notice the cold reception of the people. Every man frowned upon -him as he passed along the streets; they murmured together and talked of -banishment. - -It was the 8th of November when he came home to Florence. On the morning -of the 9th he rode to the Piazza with his ordinary guard to announce the -King’s coming, but when he knocked at the gate of the Palazzo Vecchio, -young Nerli refused to let him in unless he sent away his soldiery. -Piero, indignant at this behaviour, rode home again and sent a message -to his wife’s brother, Pagolo Orsini, captain of the horse, to bid him -lead the troops at once to Florence. Meanwhile, in the streets the -ominous cry of “Liberty, liberty!” gathered and grew. All the -adventurous temper of Piero de’ Medici was roused. Without waiting for -the troops, he armed himself and a few servants, and rushed cavalcading -along the hostile streets, crying out the rallying cry of his family, -“Palle! Palle!” But everywhere he was met with sullen silence—silence -that gradually broke into a roar of disapproval, a shout of “Libertà!” -By the time Orsini and the soldiers came, Piero was glad of their -assistance, not to quell the disaffected Florentines, but to escape from -a town in open mutiny. They left the women behind in the great house in -Via Larga, and, accompanied by a few cavaliers, the three young Medici -fled from their city. Piero rode in the middle, disguised as a monk. It -was the second time in fourteen days that he had secretly escaped from -Florence. - -When the sun rose on the 10th of November, Florence was in deed, as well -as in name, a republic. Piero was a fugitive in reproachful Bologna, a -price of 5,000 ducats on his head. Nor ever again, in the ten remaining -years of his life, did he re-enter Florence; and when his brothers, -seventeen years after, were readmitted to their ancient home, it was -through the blood of Prato that they waded into Florence. - -Florence would brave any danger rather than receive the Medici. When -King Charles, a few days after the escape of Piero, made a brave stand -for his guest of Sarzana, the Florentines threatened him with open war. -“You can sound your trumpets,” said Piero Capponi; “I will ring my -bells.” Charles looked out of the window at the narrow streets, at the -solemn, strong-walled city that, at the sound of the tocsin, became a -mysterious and terrible ambush, raining death from every window, -shooting unsuspected sallies along the tortuous streets. He understood -that a plain French soldier could not deal with such an enemy as this. -“Take off the price upon his head,” he declared, “and I will say no -more.” - -Nevertheless, had Piero gone at once to Charles instead of to Bologna, -the King might have forced him back on Florence. But the young man fled -from Bologna to Venice; and when King Charles sent him a message and -bade him come to his camp, Piero refused to stir. Piero Capponi, he -said, had told him the French King meant only to betray him. Piero -Capponi was at least resolved that his namesake should no more betray -the city, and by his persuasions the Medicean Piero remained at Venice. -“There I often saw him,” wrote Commines, “and he discoursed to me at -large of all his misfortunes, and I, as well as I could, comforted him. -Methought him a man of no great stuff or sense.” - - - THE FRENCH AT PISA. - - -In the eleventh century the King of Tunis asked of the Pisan merchants -at his Court: “What are the Florentines?” “They are our Arabs of the -desert,” replied those prosperous tradesmen. “They are our poor!” - -But in the next century these Arabs of Tuscany proved themselves -formidable rivals to their neighbours; though for another hundred years -Pisa, with diminishing resources, retained a superior prestige. That -superiority of hers became the occasion of her final ruin; for in 1197 -when Volterra, Lucca, Florence, San Miniato, Arezzo, and Siena united in -the Great Guelf League of Independence, Pisa alone stood out resolutely -Ghibelline, isolated in the dignity of her Imperialism. This abstention -of Pisa, then the first of the Tuscan cities, gave to Florence the front -place in the League, and made her the head of the Guelfs in Central -Italy. - -Thenceforth, for centuries Florence gloriously flourished, while the -fame of Pisa dwindled to a mere proverb, an old tale but half believed. -First she lost her supremacy, then her wealth, then her renown, and at -last her independence. A family of despots arose in her midst. Soon she -was to regret this comparative liberty, for in 1397 Giangaleazzo -Visconti conquered the city, and left it, on his death in 1402, to his -mistress, Agnese Mantegazza, and to their son, Gabriello Maria Visconti. -But Messer Gabriel’ Maria was not strong enough to keep Pisa single -handed against his envious neighbours of Florence, Genoa, and Lucca; so -on April 15, 1404, he agreed to hold the city as a fief of France. - - - I. - -Few of the details of history are more involved, perplexed, or dependent -on the revelations of unpublished archives than the delicate intrigues -of France for the possession of Pisa. A Mediterranean seaport, a link in -the precious chain that ran (Marseilles, Genoa, Pisa, Naples) from -Provence to Sicily, she was an invaluable supporter of the Angevines in -the south; and holding the passes of the Apennines, she was scarcely -less necessary to Orleans in Lombardy, glad indeed of an ally among the -Tuscan republics, so irreconcilably inimical to the Visconti. But, as we -have already seen, the plans of Orleans were liable to suffer from the -counter plans of France; and as at Genoa in 1395 so it was at Pisa in -1404. - -The great Visconti died in September, 1402; and in the same year Marshal -Boucicaut was sent as Governor to Genoa. Boucicaut was an enemy of -Milan,[118] a hater of the Turk, a man who saw in the Visconti the -secret allies of the Sultan, a man who had been a captive at Nicopolis. -A pure, devoted, honourable spirit, yet officious, yet impatient:—a -restless hero working persistently in a nervous and unquiet fashion the -thing that he believed to be the Will of God—Boucicaut is a figure as -unusual among the factions and intrigues of fifteenth-century history as -Gordon among the small surroundings of to-day. The Marshal was sent to -Genoa because that jealous and unaccountable people (“qui n’aime pas -qu’on aille leur desbauscher leurs femmes”) would no longer endure his -predecessor. They found in him the man they had prayed to have, a -sterner master. Boucicaut was as rigid as he was simple: a man soon -deceived, but swift and inflexible in the punishment of treachery. His -immaculate life, his proved authority, his skill in regulating and -organizing commercial traffic, gave him a great position in Northern -Italy, made him the man of men there, the central figure, even as before -him had been Giangaleazzo Visconti. For one reason, these two men, so -unlike in every detail, were alike in the great fact that they were -thinkers, men with a mission, inspired by an idea that ruled their lives -and to which they subordinated every consideration. The Duke of Milan -dreamed of a great United Italian Confederation, of which he should be -the head, and of which the Pope should be merely the ornament and crown: -his dream was the dream of the Emperor Napoleon III. Boucicaut, a -crusader by nature and tradition, above all things a religious spirit, -dreamed of ending the Schism, of gaining state after state to the -adherence of the true Pope at Avignon, and, _pari passu_, of extending -the dominions of his lord the King of France. The ambition of Boucicaut -was all spiritual loyalty and feudal devotion; the ambition of Visconti, -stained with crimes, was directed only to self-aggrandizement: different -stars were theirs, shining from different poles. But the men who see a -star and follow where it leads them, though they go as far apart as Hell -and Heaven, have more in common than the mere human bond which ties them -to the obscure multitude of their fellows, swaying hither and thither, -devoid of purpose, will, or way. - -Footnote 118: - - On October 30, 1403, he wrote to Florence and offered to take one of - the finest cities of the Milanese between Milan and Piedmont if - Florence would afford him (as indeed she offered to do) an aid of 200 - lances (Florence Archives, Filza II. dei Dieci 3). Nothing appears to - have come of this arrangement, which appears to have been quite - uncountenanced by the King. - -Almost the first act of Boucicaut at Genoa was to write to Florence -inviting her to assist him in capturing from the young Visconti (the -Serpent-brood) one of the finest cities between Milan and Piedmont. The -Florentines shared to the full the distrust of Boucicaut for the -children of him whom they had called “the self-dubbed Count of Virtues -(Vertus), the veritable Count of Vice.” And they consented to the -enterprise, but yet did not pursue it. For, at that moment, they had -other work to hand. There was another Visconti than the Lords of Milan -and Padua whom they must subdue. They were laying siege to Pisa “e chi -la tiene”: her master Gabriel’ Maria Visconti. - -At the same moment, as we know, Orleans beyond the Alps was mysteriously -advancing southwards; his aim, no less than that of the Florentines, the -reduction of Pisa. For through his wife, Valentine Visconti,[119] he -had, as he considered, a prior claim on Pisa, and indeed on all -possessions of the dead Duke not included in the heritage of the two -legitimate sons. Gabriel’ Maria, the bastard, supported only by his -mother, besieged by the Florentine allies of France, threatened by his -brother-in-law the puissant brother of the King of France,—what hope had -he? None indeed, save in the disquiet which the news of Orleans’ coming -might inspire among his neighbours. For was it only on Pisa intent that -so great a lord was advancing on Lombardy? At this moment the young -Visconti of Milan were at open war with Boucicaut, and had declared -their intention to drive him out of Genoa and to obtain for themselves -the rich province of which the French had baulked their father. Did -Orleans also remember with rancour that disappointment of ten years ago? -Did he intend to join his brothers-in-law of Milan, take Genoa first and -Pisa afterwards? It might be; and yet it were difficult to be at once -the ally of the Milanese Visconti, and the usurper of their -half-brother’s possessions. Was it possible that the King’s brother -intended to unite his army to that of the King’s lieutenant, defeat the -young Visconti before Genoa, drive them from Lombardy as well as out of -Pisa, and make for himself a great territory (Milan, Asti, Pisa) -alongside of the French protectorate of Genoa? Boucicaut was an ancient -and intimate companion of the Duke of Orleans; it was rumoured that -Orleans had frequent interviews with Pope Benedict at Beaucaire; it was -possible that the three had come to an understanding. - -Footnote 119: - - See the preceding chapter on Valentine Visconti. - -And Orleans marched south. And Florence assailed Pisa. So late as April -17, 1404,[120] the Florentines believed that by diplomacy, if not by -force, they might secure their prey. But in the end of February or the -beginning of March the Duke of Orleans turned north in high dudgeon, -indignantly marching on Paris. And in April it was commonly known that, -on the 4th of that month, Messer Gabriel’ Maria Visconti had been -acknowledged a vassal of the Crown of France; he was “homme du Roy” and -the King’s men henceforth would support him in Pisa. - -Footnote 120: - - See a manuscript letter, I believe imprinted, in the Florence - Archives, Dieci di Balia, Classe x. dist. iii. No. 2, f^o. 56: - _Istruzione data a Pierotto Fidini_: “Andrai a Pisa e sarai con - Madonna Agnese e dicele che tu ciai (ci hai) referito quello chella ta - detta (ch’ella ti ha detta) e, uditolo, noi siamo contenti seguitare - il ragionemento, cioè di contrarre con lei buona pace e sicura si che - tra lei e noi non abbia da essere guerra. Ma che, per fare contento il - nostro popolo, e mostrargli come cosa sia sicura che guerra non gli - sia fatta a noi, è bisogno chella metta nelle mani del Comune nostro - quatro Castella colle loro forteze, di quelle del Terreno di Pisa che - per noi si nomineranno et vogliendo ella fare questo noi verremo alla - pace e alla concordia realmente. - - “Se ella dinegasse questo volere fare, avendo tu prima provato e - riprovato chella il consento, et ella dicesse di volere mettere le - dette castelle colle forteze loro in mano di terza persona fidata a - lei ed a noi, dirai in ultimo che noi siamo contenti. E se questo ella - non movesse a te ma stessesi pure in su la negativa—di non ci volere - dare le dette castella—allora moverai tu a lei dicendo che, poi che - non le dia piacere mettere le dette castella nelle mani nostre, chella - le metta nelle mani di terza persona di lei e di noi fidata. E che a - questo ella consente e volere che tu nommassi le castella, dirai - Livorno, Librafacta, Casena e Ponteacra. E se d’alcuni di questi ella - dicesse non potere fare, saprai quali. E in scambio loro dirai Palaia - e Marti se fossino più d’uno. Se ella ti venisse a domandare chi noi - porremo per terza persona, dirai che tu non ne sei informato ma che tu - ci lo riferirai, e se ella te ne nominasse alcuno, tiengli a mente. E - poi ne vieni subito alla presentia nostra, bene informato d’ogni cosa. - Et eziandio d’ogni novettà e cosa che sentire puoi” (April 17, 1404). - -Great was the wrath of Orleans, loud the remonstrance of Florence. -Orleans had scarcely arrived in Paris before the King transferred to him -all the Royal rights to Pisa (as I have already shown the reader in the -chapter on Valentine Visconti), and formally disowned the conduct of -Boucicaut, forbidding him in future to put any obstacle in the path of -his brother. Censured at home, Boucicaut was not less fervently -condemned by his allies in Italy. The Signory of Florence addressed a -most indignant letter to him,[121] accusing him of a dishonest action in -seizing from the King’s faithful allies the prey they had hunted so -long, now, in their very grasp, to be wrested from them by a friend. -“Questa non era honesta cosa.” The Florentines could easily have reduced -Pisa, but against the fief of France, their ally, they could do nothing. -They withdrew from the siege, protesting and with many murmurs. - -Footnote 121: - - Dieci di Balia, Classe x. distinzione iii. No. 2, f^o. 58. I translate - the whole of this interesting letter, hitherto, I believe, - unpublished: - - “_Istruzione data a Bonaccorso di Neri Pitti ... di quello che abbia - fare a Genova._ April 28, 1404: Andrai a Genova. E sarai al - Governatore Messer Giovanni Bouciquaut, Luogo tenente del Re. E lui - saluterai affetuosamente per parte del Comune nostro. - - “Di poi gli dirai come di questo mese egli manda al nostro comune suo - Ambasciatore Maestro Piero di Nantrone, suo secretario. Il quale, per - sua parte, ci notifica come egli aveva ricevuto per vasallo e - feudatorio del serenissimo Re di Francia Messer Gabriello Maria di - Visconti colla città di Pisa e col suo terreno che possedea. Et aveva - presa la sua difesa. E che darà per censo al detto Re ogni anno uno - cavallo e uno falcone pellegrino. Secondaria, ci prega che ci piacesse - per lo avvenire non offendere la città nil (ne il) terreno di Pisa - predetto, per rispetto del Serenissimo Re predetto. Et agli aveva - preveduto che di quelli di Pisa non sarebbe fatta alcuna offesa nel - nostro terreno. - - “Tertio disse che noi possiamo colle nostre mercatantie usare et - trafficare a Pisa sicuramente come a Genova e in qualunque altra terra - del Re di Francia. - - “Al quale Ambasciatore fu risposto in effecto che noi ci maravigliamo - et dolevamo, come essendo noi in guerra colla dicta città di Pisa e - con chi la teneva—et essendo noi al disopra per liberare la detta - città di tirannia et avendo rispetto quanto noi siamo sempre frati, e - siamo servidori della detta Corona di Francia; et egli aveva presa la - difesa loro contro a noi; e che questa non era honesta cosa. - - “Alla seconda parte—di non offender—egli fu detto, che in ciò noi - terremo tali modi come vedessimo convenirsi e che non gli darebbero - dispiacere. - - “E alla terza parte, diciamo che l’usare in luogo dove avesse a fare - alcuno dei Visconti di Milano non ci fu mai sicuro, non potrebbe - essere, considerati le inimicitii e odii antichi stati da detti - Visconti al comune nostro; Conchiudendo che sopra le dette cose noi - faremo risposta più pienamente al detto Signor Boucequaut per nostri - Ambassadori. - - “E poi gli direte che—se mai noi avevamo maraviglia di alcuna cosa—noi - abbiamo dello avere gli, in nome del Serenissimo Re di Francia, presa - la difesa di Pisa e di quello che gli possiede, contro a noi, figludi - devotissimi della corona di Francia stati sempre, in favore dei Pisani - che sempre sono stati inimici della detta Corona. Et maximamente - essendo noi in guerra con Pisa e con chi la tiene, non di nascosa ma - pubblicamente e non di guerra hora cominciata ma durata lungamente. Et - essendo noi con nostro esercito in punto et in ordine per esser - intorno alla città di Pisa, sperando in brevissimo tempo liberarla - della Tirannia dei Visconti. E per poter meglio e con maggiore forza - cosa fare, abbiamo fatta grandissima spesa nello apparecchio di - questo, il quale possiamo dire per cagione sua avere tutta perduta. E - con lui di questo vi direste amichevolmente, subiungnendo che noi ci - rendiamo certi che quando il Serenissimo Re di Francia e suo Consiglio - sapranno questo, essi n’avranno dispiacere come di cosa non honesta et - iniusta. Il che non fu mia usanza della Corona di Francia fare, et - come di cosa fatta contro a i suoi figluoli e divoti in favore di un - Tiranetto e d’una città stata sempre nemica della Corona di Francia. A - presso gli direte, che, per riverentia della Maestà Reale la quale - egli rappresenta (come che duro e malagevole ci paresse per le ragioni - di sopra assegante) già sono più di passati, noi facciamo - commandamento a tutta nostra gente d’arme e subditi: Che nel terreno - di Pisa non dovesseno fare alcuna offesa o cavalcata, e così è stata - observata: la qual cosa fare grava molto il nostro popolo per gli - rispetti scripti di sopra. E mai non si sarebbe creduto per nessuno - Fiorentino che Messer Bouciquaut il quale abbiamo reputato a noi e - reputiamo amico singolarissimo avesse mai fatta tale cosa contra a noi - ma pensiamo che questo sia proceduto da altri con velati colori che - gli le hanno dato a dividere; ma veramente questo che fatta ha non è - cosa punto honesta ne iusta ne utile ne honorevole per la Maestà - Reale. E per tutto il pregherate che gli piaccia, veduta la verità del - fatto, renonciare questo che ha ordinato in questa materia, ed essere - contento che noi possiamo seguitare contro a Pisa, e chi la tiene, la - nostra impresa. E questo sarà a lui honore et a noi, figluoli della - Corona, singolarissimo piacere. - - “Alla parte del trafficare et usare a Pisa i nostri cittadini e - mercatanti colle loro mercatantie, direte che niuno cittadino se ne - fiderebbe mai ne vorebbero trafficare, essendo Pisa nella mani - d’alcuno dei Visconti, come ella è. E non che ivi—ma in alcuna terra - dove alcuno dei Visconti avesse a fare, per che essi sono antichi - nostri nemici e molte volte lanno (l’hanno) dimostrato—e romperci la - fede e pace e tregua; e bene lo vedevamo dove, essendo colligati colla - Serenissima Corona di Francia, il Conte di Vertus ci ruppe la Pace e - manifestò tradimento contra Dio a vergogna della detta Corona, si che - in modo alcuno non ci potremo mai fidare in luogo done alcuno di loro - avesse a fare.” - - Here the document leaves politics to defend the quarrel of private - Florentine merchants in Genoa, to complain of the conduct of the - Pisans who have made a raid on to the lands of Messer Gherardo - d’Appiano, feudatory of Florence, and to complain of the sequestration - of the goods of certain Florentine merchants of Genoa. The Ten also - state that they are sending Messer Rinaldo Gianfigliazzi and Messer - Filippo Cosimi on an embassy to France to state their case to the - King. F^o. 60 instructs us that Boucicaut liberated the sequestered - goods and that a truce was signed between Florence and Pisa for so - long as Pisa should continue subject to the King of France. - -What indeed was the motive of Boucicaut? The Florentines with some -reason suspected an unseen hand pulling the strings that worked this -sudden action; “pensiamo che questo sia proceduto da altri, con velati -colori.” But what man save the King, who disowned the business, was -strong enough to dare to oppose the will of Orleans? Was Burgundy -jealous of those Italian prospects of his rival which freed him from his -neighbourhood at home? Or was it possible that the Antipope Benedict, -ill-contented with Orleans after their interview at Beaucaire, had -privately summoned Boucicaut “ce bon Chrestien” to hold Pisa in the -King’s name and not in the name of his too powerful guardian? Mysteries! -It is as likely, perhaps more likely, that Boucicaut, ever hot-headed, -wilful, and officious, asked no permission save his own to accept this -new vassal for the King of France. His brain was fired by the thought of -converting Pisa to the true obedience; and he feared that she would fall -to heretic Florence ere Orleans could pass the Alps. - -Gabriel’ Maria Visconti and his mother were ill at their ease in Pisa. -He, an elegant, faithless, persuasive _Tiranetto_ (as the Tuscans called -him), was often at the Court of Boucicaut, making various negotiations, -among others handing over the Tower and Fort of Leghorn to France.[122] -Boucicaut was in high spirits notwithstanding his half disgrace; he had -persuaded the Genoese to accept the authority of Benedict XII., “the -greatest deed,” writes his biographer, “that has been done in Italy -these 200 years.” He hoped soon to convert Leghorn and Pisa; and, in -time, to induce Italy to renounce the heinous Italian Antipope. - -Footnote 122: - - Brit. Museum MSS. 30, 669, f. 238; a treaty between the King of France - and G.M. Visconti, Lord of Pisa. The Tower and Fort of Leghorn are to - be given to the French, the King promising that no one shall be - allowed to enter Leghorn against the will of Gabriele Maria Visconti. - Also _quod absit_ should the Castle of Leghorn be taken by the enemies - of the said Gabriele Maria, or should it in any way rebel against him, - the King and his Lieutenant bind themselves to allow free passage to - any army the said Gabriele Maria may send for its subjection. The King - explicitly promises that if any of Gabriele Maria’s possessions be - lost by the treachery of guards or other means, he will make war upon - the fraudulent possessors and attempt their recovery. The King invests - Gabriele Maria, with a gold ring, in all his possessions save the - Tower and Fort of Leghorn. - -Suddenly his hold over Pisa ominously slackened. - -The Pisans cared little for Pope or Antipope; they were fanatic for -liberty. They detested Agnese Mantegazza and her bastard with a Tuscan -hatred for the Visconti, treacherous alike to God and man. One day in -1405, while Messer Gabriel’ Maria was absent in Genoa, some Florentine -soldiers made a raid on Pisa. The citizens, not without reason, -suspected their tyrant of selling them to the Florentines,—old -neighbours and rivals yet more odious than the Milanese. They rose as -one man fighting for death or liberty in the streets. No sooner had they -driven back the Florentines than they rushed on the Fortress, surging -through the narrow corridors, till, in the heart of the palace, they -came on Madonna Agnese. A man raised his harquebuss and shot her through -the heart. Her son was absent in Genoa. For the moment the Pisans were -quit of the Visconti. - -The news of the revolt of Pisa flew swiftly to Genoa. The bereaved -Tiranetto dispossessed and orphaned, repaired to Boucicaut as to the -Lieutenant of his liege-lord, the King of France, asking aid because, as -the Chronicle reminds us, “seigneur doibt au besoing secourir son vassal -qui le requiert à son aide.” - -Boucicaut was dismayed at this first result of his new acquisition. To -reduce Pisa by arms would be a ruinous affair. The Marshal comforted as -best he could the vassal of his master, and promised to go and reason -with the rebels. Forth, therefore, he went from Genoa to a very -beautiful place called Porto Venere, in the neighbourhood of Pisa. There -a deputation of the insurgents awaited him, and for a long while he -harangued them as to the virtues of the dead Madonna Agnese and the -merits of the kind and amiable young man whom they had banished. - -The Pisans listened respectfully while “moult leur dict de belles -paroles,” but when the sermon was over they replied that never should -Messer Gabriel’ be their lord again, rather would every man of them be -hewn in pieces; but, they went on to say, the Marshal Boucicaut himself -should be welcomed and honoured by all the citizens of Pisa, if he would -accept her as his fief. “Never,” cried the Marshal, “could I draw such a -profit from a friend’s misfortune” (“car ce n’est mie l’usaige des -François d’user de tels tours”). And he fell again to praising Messer -Gabriel’, but all in vain, for the last word of the Pisans was that, if -the Marshal himself would not accept the city for his own, then they -prayed him to meet them at Leghorn another day, and there they would -give themselves directly to the King of France, accepting a French -governor for their waiter, even as the Genoese had done ten years -before. - -Boucicaut went home, sore perplexed between his duty to his liege and -his duty to his vassal. He had gone to Porto Venere to plead the cause -of Gabriel’ Maria: and he had supplanted the young man, as it seemed. On -the other hand, since it was clear that the Pisans would never re-admit -their Tiranetto, and since the city was the fief of France, how could he -honourably forbid them to give themselves entirely to their lawful -suzerain? And the vision grew in him of a great Mediterranean State, -French, supporting French interests in the East—a terror to the Saracens -and the men of Barbary, a lamp of Christendom, faithful to the True -Obedience, reclaimed for ever from the heresy of the Elect of Rome. - -Arrived in Genoa he sent for Messer Gabriel’, and told him the case; “de -quoy feult moult dolent Messire Gabriel,” who doubtless wished that he -had sent to Porto Venere, a spokesman less eloquent and less engaging. -But Boucicaut persuaded him that since he could not hope to leave the -city for himself, ’twas better to entrust it to the King of France—who -would recompense so generous a vassal with lands as good elsewhere—than -to let it fall into the power of an enemy or a neighbour. Gabriel’ Maria -agreed—as he must perforce agree—and Boucicaut set out again to meet the -rebels at Leghorn. - -But the Pisans had never meant to give themselves another master. To -gain time, they had played with Boucicaut and had flattered his weak -side. They said that on second thoughts they preferred that, before they -gave themselves to the King of France, the men of Messer Gabriel’, who -were still in the strong places of Pisa, should be expelled the city, -and a garrison of French and Genoese sent thither in their stead. The -request appeared the less unreasonable as Gabriel’ Maria was himself the -King’s vassal, and the Pisans might suspect that their mutual suzerain -would only confirm the power of the rejected _Tiranetto_. Boucicaut -agreed, returned to Genoa, and arranged for the exchange of garrisons. - -This done the Pisans sent to say the Fortress needed revictualling. -Boucicaut, eager to ingratiate his new subjects, despatched his nephew, -some gentlemen of his household, with many gentlemen and citizens of -Genoa; and a great galley heaped with provisions. The ship sailed down -the coast and up the Arno into Pisa; at the quay the embassy descended. -They were immediately overpowered by an ambush of Pisans, who seized -upon the welcome cargo of the ship, and carried off the crew and the -passengers into a dark and villainous prison, using their sufferings as -a means to extract higher ransom from the King’s Lieutenant. - -Thus amply provisioned at Boucicaut’s expense, the Pisans began to feel -secure of liberty. They sent to Florence, offering her four of their -castles if she would help them to regain Leghorn, where at the moment -Boucicaut and Gabriel’ Maria were esconced, and to revenge themselves on -both these men. But the Florentines returned a dilatory answer, for they -were, in truth, pursuing a more fruitful negotiation. - -Florence in 1405 was in the very hey-day of her wool trade, but she had -no outlet for her tides of commerce, no port from which to ship her -goods to Provence or to Barbary. It was not four Pisan castles, but Pisa -herself and the mouth of the Arno that she required. At the same time -that the Pisans proposed their bargain to the Florentine Ten, that -august body had received an ambassador from Gabriel’ Maria Visconti -offering to sell them not only Pisa, but also the frontier castles of -Sarzana and Librafatto, which, from the fastnesses of the Apennines, -guard the plain in which Pisa and Florence lie. It was worth a great -price to secure not only a port, but a fortified frontier in case of an -invasion from the north. Florence remembered her ancient terrors when -she had lain almost at the mercy of the Duke of Milan. She agreed to pay -Messer Gabriel’ the sum of four hundred thousand florins for his rights -over his revolted signory. They stipulated, however, that Boucicaut must -be acquainted with the transaction, and give it his sanction, otherwise -no bargain. - -When the persuasive Gabriel’ Maria broke the news to his host, at first -the Marshal “qui toujours y avoit la dent,” emphatically refused to -consent to the alienation of a Royal fief; he even sent to Pisa to -acquaint the rebels with the designs of their ex-tyrant, hoping by this -means to induce them to declare themselves the subjects of the King. But -the Pisans went on shouting “Libertà.” Meanwhile Gabriel’ Maria and the -Florentines set the matter before the Marshal in another light. For -Messer Gabriel’—a clever person—advised the Florentines to become -vassals to the Crown of France for the fief of Pisa. The Florentines -fell in with the suggestion, which carried visible weight with the -Boucicaut. And the Marshal was left to consider the matter. - -The Florentines asked Leghorn as well as Pisa, but Boucicaut was -obstinate in his hold on the nearer port. He could not yield Leghorn -without grave prejudice to Genoa. But Pisa was his only in name. Could -he not keep Leghorn, the substance, and as the price of Pisa, the -shadow, exact the fealty of the Florentines to France and to the true -Pope? Illuminated by this bright idea Boucicaut proposed the following -terms to Florence: - -1. The Florentines shall have Pisa and all its lands except the Castle -of Leghorn; but they must swear not to interfere with the carrying trade -of Genoa, nor to make traffic by sea in any other ships than those of -Genoa. - -2. A month after the reduction of Pisa the Florentines must declare -their adhesion to Pope Benedict XIII., and charge themselves with the -conversion of Pisa. - -3. If, six months after the said reduction of Pisa, the Elect of Rome -still persist in his error, the Florentines, the French, and the Genoese -shall all make war on him together.[123] - -Footnote 123: - - So far I have no documentary evidence for these articles, which are to - be found in the “Livre des faicts du Marischal Boucicaut,” part iii. - chap. 10. I give them and I believe in them, because in every instance - I have found the documents of Archives to confirm or explain the - assertions of this particular chronicle; because the articles breathe - the very spirit of Boucicaut; and because I think it is to this - agreement that the Florentines refer in the letter quoted further on - (Spoglio del Carteggio i. ii. fo. 221), under date 15th of August, - 1406. The act by which the Florentines constitute themselves vassals - of France for Pisa is well known. It is printed in Dumont. - -4. That the ratification of King and Council shall be asked for this -agreement. - -The Florentines agreed, and messengers were despatched to France, where -there was great joy in Council at thus receiving two Signories for one. -The King confirmed the agreement (it is said) by letters-patent, which -were sent to Genoa and Florence. The Ten paid certain sums (as we learn -from a later letter), to Gabriel’ Maria, and other moneys to Boucicaut; -and then in earnest the Florentines resumed the siege of Pisa. - -Famine fought with them and pestilence; yet valiant Pisa proved -irreductible. Month after month sped on in fruitless heroism, and a year -after the resumption of the siege the Florentines were still -indefatigably attacking, the Pisans heroically defending. Then the -beleaguered city sent by privy ways a messenger to Ladislas, King of -Naples, offering herself to him if he would defend her. The King -promised, but did nothing. - -After a month or so the Pisans smuggled out a second messenger, this -time to France, who offered the city to the Duke of Burgundy on the same -terms. Mindful of the agreement of last year which assigned Pisa to -Florence, Burgundy hesitated; and, perceiving his perplexity, the Pisan -envoys “qui assez sçavoient le tour de leur baston,” addressed -themselves to certain of the Councillors of Orleans, and promised the -city to him; whereupon the said Councillors induced Orleans and -Burgundy, enemies as they were, to go hand in hand to the poor -bewildered King and beseech him to grant them leave to accept the homage -of Pisa. Charles, doubtless, was not quite in his right mind. The deed -granting Pisa to Burgundy and Orleans[124] is signed “For the King” by -the Count of Tancarville and other princes. An ancient dependence upon -Burgundy, a blind affection for Orleans (“rien n’eut refusé à son -frère”), united with his perplexed and feeble memory, to obliterate the -treaty of last year. The King forgot his new vassals, forgot the Pope, -the schemes of Boucicaut, the money that had been paid him by the -Florentines on account of the agreement. He granted Pisa to Burgundy and -Orleans, who wrote to the Florentines that they must raise the siege at -once, and sent to Boucicaut bidding him assist the Pisans. - -Footnote 124: - - “Arch. Nat.”, Paris, Carton K. 55, No. 11, prèce 8; July 27, 1406: - ”Charles par la Grâce de Dieu Roy de France, à nos amés et féaulx gens - de nos comptes et trésoriers à Paris et à tous nos aultres justiciers - et officiers ou à leur lieutenant, Salut et dilectation! - - “Savoir vous faisons que nos très-chers et très-amés frère et cousin - les Ducs d’Orléans et de Bourgoigne, nous ont au jour dit fait foy et - hommaige lige des ville terre et Seigneurie de Pise et de toutes - terres appartenans et appendans quelconque, à eulx appartenir - communément. Auquel hommaige nous les avons reçus sauf notre droit et - l’autrui. Vous mandons, et à chacuns de vous sicomme à luy - appartiendra que, pour cause du dit hommaige à nous faict, vous ne - faictes ou souffrey nos ditz frère et cousin ne aulcun d’eulx estre - molestez, troublez ou empeschez ès dictes ville terre el seigneurie de - Pise ni es terres appartenans et appendans en aucune manière. Mais si - pour la dicte cause elles estoient empeschées mettez les leur ou - faictes mettre a plaine delivrance. Donné a Paris le 26 jour de - Juillet, 1406, et de nostre regne 26. Pour le Roy, le Comte de - Tancarville et aultres princes.” - -The previous difficulties of Boucicaut had been as nothing compared to -this dilemma. How could he refuse his service to the King, his lord and -suzerain? How, on the other hand, could he break his plighted word? The -vassal and the man of honour struggled together in his breast; and from -that long and cruel duel the man of honour emerged triumphant. So -Boucicaut refused to desert his Florentine allies, refused to assist the -Royal fief of Pisa. - -As the Florentines pressed closer and closer round the beleaguered city, -the Pisans for the third time contrived to smuggle out a messenger who -was to make his way as best he could to Asti (the city of Orleans), and -thence to France to beseech the King to send a messenger and -reinforcements.[125] But the Pisan envoy was discovered in the -Florentine camp, and Capponi, the General, drowned him in the sea. - -Footnote 125: - - Corio. - -So that when the news of his interception came to Paris, it was too late -for aught but indignation. “The Florentine merchants had to suffer for -it,” says Corio; and Desjardins (in his introduction to the Tuscan -Statipassers), expresses his astonishment at the obstacles laid in the -way of Florentine trade by Marshal Boucicaut that year. For human nature -is not consistent, and though Boucicaut had indignantly refused to -desert his allies of Florence, none the less he was wrath at their -success, which meant the injury of France. - -For on the 10th of October, 1406,[126] a Florentine army marched into -Pisa, garrisoned the citadels, established their government, and marched -back with many hostages to Florence. Pisa was honourably lost to -France.[127] Pisa was lost, and great was the sting and smart of it. -Railing and bitter names flung at Boucicaut, detention of the Florentine -Ambassadors by Orleans,[128] wrath of the King himself, were each and -all wholly unavailing. Florence was the King’s ally and too great a -power to be rashly assailed; and Florence was firm in Pisa. - -Footnote 126: - - “Filza xxii. della Signoria”: see f^o. 283, Spoglio del Carteggio, - October 10, 1406, a Florentine army enters Pisa: “La città di Pisa si - rende al comune di Firenze: l’esercito vi entra vittorioso nel di - senza commettere alcune violenza e prende il possesso di tutte le - Fortezze.” On the 14th of October a certain number of Pisans were sent - as hostages into Florence; arms of offence and defence were taken from - all the Pisans. On the 12th of November a further number of hostages - to the amount of one hundred of the Pisan citizens, “dei più atti alle - fazioni,” were ordered to be sent into Florence. Civil order was - established under the government of a Magistrate and eight Priors. - -Footnote 127: - - “Spoglio del Carteggio,” i. ii., f^o. 221 (Filza xx. della Signoria), - 15th of August, 1406: “Lettera della Signoria responsiva a quella del - Re di Francia in commendazione dei Pisani ai quali si annunciava di - aver’ data un Signore. _Si lamenta la Signoria di questa procedere - dopo che l’acquisto di quella città fatto della Signoria per compta - era stato confermato del Re con figlio e già erano state pagate - diverse somme a Gabriel’ Maria Visconti e a Giovanni Le Meingre_ - (Boucicaut) _Luogotenente Generale della Corona e Governatone di - Genova_.” A replica of this is sent to Orleans, Burgundy, and Berry. - -Footnote 128: - - There are a number of documents concerning this detention of the - Florentine Ambassadors to be found: “Signori Cart. Miss.” Reg. 1. - Cancelleria 27, f^o. 26 _et seq._, in the Florence Archives, under - dates 10th of May, 3rd of June, 25th of June, 11th of July. The - letters are too long to publish here, see also “Spoglio del - Carteggio,” f^o. 286, for summary of an embassy sent by the Signory to - the King of France, Orleans, and Burgundy, in justification of the - purchase of Pisa and the siege. The Ambassadors “erano stati spogliati - e ritenuti dal Duca d’Orliens, per el che, seguito l’acquisto della - detta città, si spedisce ivi Bonaccorso Pitti.” Pitti was to join - Alberto degli Albizzi already in France, and, going by Avignon, they - were to interview the Antipope, to treat of the union of the Church, - to expound to him the policy of the Republic, and to obtain from him - commendatory letters to the Court at France. But the Antipope was a - less formidable ally than in the days of Clement. - - It is curious to observe that the Signory instruct their ambassadors, - if they cannot obtain from the King the liberation of the imprisoned - Ambassadors, to appeal finally to the Parliament. This is assuming - that the Parliament was stronger than the King or even than Orleans—a - piece of trans-Alpine provincialism. - -Had Orleans lived, he might indeed have undertaken an expedition into -Italy. But in the middle of his disappointment he was murdered as we -know. Messer Gabriel’ Maria went to Milan, where he lived half a -captive,[129] half a traitor for some while; and then took refuge again -in Genoa. But in the year 1409 being detected by Boucicaut in a plot of -singular treachery against the French, he was ruthlessly beheaded. Three -years later, in 1412, after Gabriele’s death that plot succeeded. -Boucicaut and the French were expelled from Genoa; and the wars of -Burgundy and Armagnac, the woes of Agincourt and the long invasion of -the English, for thirty years diverted the French from their endeavours -to colonize beyond the Alps. - -Footnote 129: - - “Archives of Florence: Spoglio del Carteggio universale della - Repubblica Fiorentina dell’ anno, 1401-1426,” tome 2, f^o. 273: - “Ricuse la Signoria di pagare la rata dovuta a Gabriel’ Maria - Visconti, non essendo egli in sua libertà, ma in poter’ del Duca di - Milano, che serbava convertire il denaro in suo servigio.” _Vide_ - “Filza II de’ Dieci,” f^o. 170. June, 1406. - - - II. - -The Florentine conquest was the beginning of ninety years of slavery for -Pisa—a terrible slavery, heavy with exaggerated imports, bitter with the -tolerated plunder of private Florentines, humiliating with continual -espionage. Ruin fell upon the lovely city; and as the waters of the sea -crept slowly back over the reclaimed Maremma, they sapped the -foundations of her fairest palaces. Malaria and decay went hand in hand -along the streets; though round the ruined town, the only whole thing -there, the strong forts of Florence, proclaimed the wealth and power of -the oppressor. It was not that the Florentines were avaricious; they -spent abundantly and lavishly on fortifications and garrisons for their -soldiers; on a university in Pisa for their sons; and they paid the most -imaginative of living Florentine painters to put his frescoes on the -walls of the Pisan Campo Santo. But they spent their money in the -Master’s way, declaring and sustaining the glory of Florence rather than -alleviating the miseries of Pisa. And the Pisans themselves were unable -either to supply the omissions of Florence, or to direct and advise a -more efficient expenditure. They had descended into a nation of poor -artizans, for all their ancient trades were now forbidden to them. -Florence had secured the first place for her own manufactures, by -absolutely prohibiting the wool-weaving, silk-spinning, ship-building, -in which the Pisans had for so many centuries excelled. Moreover no -Pisan might barter merchandise by land or sea. Restricted to the -commonest handicrafts, they lost the resource of wealth; deprived of -public office, denied the most ordinary civil rights, they sank into a -mute and long-enduring slavery, secretly nourishing a spark of flame in -their rebellious hearts. - -Pisa was the Ireland of Florence, captive and yet unvanquished. Ever -ready to revolt, never for an hour forgetful of her antique superiority. -By means of the many exiles that Florence expelled from home, she kept -continually in touch with the enemies of Florence. Men expelled for -private crimes—the meanest of the Pisans—turned patriots in exile and -dedicated the best of their souls to the service of an unhappy country. -The Florentines, prosperous and successful, were divided among -themselves into half-a-dozen different factions; and patriotism for them -meant largely a pious self-satisfaction dashed with party principles. -But the magic of an unfortunate glory, the pathos that hangs over the -place of one’s birth when it has once been great and is fallen into -ruin—this personal and omnipotent sentiment inspired every rank and -every kind of Pisan. There was none of them that would have shrunk from -any heroism, or (as it seemed to the Florentines) from any treachery, in -order to reinstate his country in her ancient grandeur. - -It was with Venice and with Milan that the Pisans held especial -practice. It mattered little to them that at heart these two powers were -deadly enemies; that ever since the death of Filippo Maria Visconti the -Venetians had been plotting with Orleans to destroy the house of Sforza; -that Lodovico il Moro left no chance unchallenged to limit the -pretensions of his Adriatic rival. The Pisans were of neither party; -their one political tenet was hatred of their conquerors, and (as a -little later they declared) of the two, they preferred the Devil to the -Florentines. - -Such patience as theirs, ceaselessly labouring underground, never -wearied, militant but not aggressive, does not fail to meet an -opportunity. At last a favourable chance was offered to the Pisans. The -King of France who in 1483 had disregarded the invitation of the -Venetians, accepted, ten years later, the persuasions of Lodovico of -Milan; and in the autumn of 1494, the armies of Charles VIII. poured -into Italy. - -It had been the custom of the Florentines, in times of war and danger, -to call the heads of every Pisan household into Florence, as hostages -for the good behaviour of their families and fellow citizens. - -But in the autumn of 1494, Piero de’ Medici who forgot everything, who -had forgotten to garrison his frontier, forgot to call the Pisan -hostages to Florence, although the French were steadily advancing on -Tuscany and the Pisans eager to rebel. Every Pisan household was intact -at home on that memorable 30th of October when, in the snowy camp of the -French outside Sarzana, Piero de’ Medici handed to the King of France -the keys of the Tuscan fortresses. It was of course provided that -Charles should restore the cities to the Florentines on his return from -Naples: but many things might happen in those troublous times that would -outweigh the value of an oath. In the advent of King Charles, the Pisans -found the opportunity, so long, so patiently, so ardently desired; and -the French army and the hope of liberty entered the unhappy city hand in -hand. - - - III. - -It was the 8th of November, and a Sunday evening towards sunset, when -the army of Charles VIII. arrived in Pisa. The slanting rays of the -autumn sun lit up a brilliant spectacle, bathed in the soft aërial -richness of the miraculously warm St. Martin’s summer which, in 1494, -succeeded to the rigours of the earlier months. Tired with their march -across the wintry Apennines, the foreign soldiers found in Pisa a city -full of friends. Tables were laid in the streets where all might sup on -wine and meat and enjoy the hospitality of the city. Under foot the -branches of pine and boughs of autumn roses exhaled their fresh aroma; -and the ruined walls of the cracked and damp-stained palaces were hidden -by the great squares of pale-crimson silk, gold brocade, and Turkey -carpets that were hung from every window. - -Along these altered streets, embellished for the festival, a train of -priests, in stole and chasuble, carrying their holiest relics, went out -to meet the King. But this, the arranged and official feature of his -reception, faded, on the event, into absolute unimportance. All took -place at first as had been designed. The great motley travel-stained -crowd of the French army came trampling down the boughs of pine and -roses; the priests met the soldiers; and finally the King came riding on -his great black horse, Savoy, under the blue-silk canopy sustained by -the nobles of Pisa: but when the people caught sight of this little -young man, with the large head, bright eyes, thin legs, high shoulders, -and quaint amiable air of elfin ugliness, then they forgot the dignity -of an official reception. This was the King of France! This was the -all-potent power which, at different moments of history had stretched -its invited and benevolent ægis over Asti, Genoa, Savona, nay, even over -Naples and haughty Florence, to shelter them from the cruelty of a -tyrannic neighbour. But instead of the dread magnificent symbolic -monarch they had expected to behold, lo, a benevolent, rather grotesque -little youth, with the most shining and enthusiastic eyes, a kind ugly -face, engaging rather timid manners, and a total lack of that anti-human -splendour which these enslaved republicans had expected in a king. A -great wave of love, of anticipated gratitude swept through the hearts of -all these people: he was, he must be, their hero, their deliverer. It -was with tears of passion streaming down their cheeks that men, women, -even little children, rushed into the ranks of the astonished soldiery, -seeing round each weather-beaten face the shimmer of an aureole, -pressing, hurrying, thronging towards the King—crying all together in -their sobbing voices “Libertate, Libertate!” while such as could master -a word or two of French, stammered in their soft lisping Pisan accent, -an appeal in the language of his distant country: “Liberté, liberté, -cher Sire!” There was no affectation in this outburst of enthusiasm, -nay, almost of idolatry. Any man who was stronger than Florence was a -possible hero to the Pisans. The great motley army of Charles proved his -force, and in the rugged amiable faces of master and of men the Pisans -recognized the faculty of sympathy. - -The Pisans had been to some extent prepared to find this virtue in the -French by the correspondence of the Pisan exiles with Lodovico of Milan, -whose trump-card was to secure if possible the liberation of Pisa by the -French, and then, after their return to France, to offer himself as -protector to the abandoned city. This plan was so well-contrived that, -if only the first impulse were given, the machine must go on of itself; -for the Pisans would certainly accept their liberty, if the French could -be moved to grant it them; and, equally certainly, the French, after -their return to France, could not afford to hold Pisa against not only -Florence, but Milan, Venice, Genoa, and Lucca, who would none of them -submit to hand a Mediterranean port to Charles. Lodovico was convinced -that the Pisans would prefer the untried yoke of Milan to the hated -bonds of Florence. The great thing was to give the first impulse. - -To this end the Duke of Milan, when he had quitted the French camp the -previous Tuesday, had left behind him Galeazzo di San Severino, the -brilliant young husband of his natural daughter. Galeazzo had -instructions to do his utmost in every way to induce the French to -protect the Pisans in a rebellion against Florence. He did not waste so -excellent an opportunity. No sooner were Charles and his nobles in the -Medici palace and the uncouth French soldiers housed like sons and -brothers in the homes of Pisa, than the adroit young San Severinesco -called a private council of the chief Pisan nobles. He advised them, as -a son of Milan, and as a friend and well-wisher of their own, to throw -themselves at once and utterly upon the generosity of France. This was a -tempting counsel; yet there were some, and among them the warlike Giulio -della Rovere, Cardinal of Saint Peter ad Vincula, that were for -patience. “What shall we do when France has left the city?” they asked -of one another. “Milan will protect you!” cried Messer Galeazzo, with a -burst of inspiring confidence. - -The Pisans hesitated only for a moment. From Venice or from Milan they -had always hoped to gain their liberty at last, or at the least a change -of masters. France, backed by Milan, seemed the most desirable -deliverer: the ancient suzerain of the city supported by its latest -friend. It was difficult at that moment to imagine a stronger -conjunction in Italy; for in 1494 Charles was spoken of as the second -Charlemagne, and no one ventured to set a bound to the triumphs of -Lodovico of Milan. “All that he desires,” the Venetian secretary was -writing almost at this very time, “all that he desires, Fortune has -conceded him, and all his plans come true.” For France and Milan to -protect Pisa against the rest of Italy in 1494, was as if Russia and a -stronger Servia to-day were to join their forces to secure Bulgaria -against the anger of the other Balkan States. - -Venice for a brief moment had sunk into the shade. She, who had -manœuvred so deeply to unseat Arragon and Sforza by the help of France, -beheld, to her immense chagrin, Charles VIII. following her own -suggestions as to the enterprise of Naples with Lodovico Sforza as his -mentor and ally. Milan had taken the place of Venice in the French -Council; Milan, which the French should have conquered as their earliest -prey. “It is extraordinary how that man succeeds,” wrote Marin Sanuto. -“Yet it may chance that he outwit himself at last. Please God, he come -to a good end! But I for one do not believe it!” - -At Pisa Lodovico registered a new success. It was in vain that Vincula -(for the first time in his life, says Guicciardini, the author of quiet -counsels) represented to the assembled nobles the danger of the step. -They were beside themselves with the hope of liberty; and indeed, all -the French agree in telling us that their condition was truly desperate. -“Piteous, and lamentable,” says Desrey, and Commines, a staunch -Florentine in principle, allows that they were handled as cruelly as -slaves. To men in such a plight, and counselled by a person so important -as San Severino, no risk appears too great to run that leaves a chance -for liberty. - -And so that very night the Pisans, still in their gala-dresses, but with -torn hair, faces of mourning, clasped hands and streaming eyes, thronged -into the council-chamber of the astonished King. “It was lamentable,” -writes an eye-witness, “to hear them tell the wrongs and grievances they -endured.” It was as if, in the middle of their gala, one of them, with a -significant irony, had raised the corner of the pale silk gala-hangings -and had revealed the mouldering stone, the unsightly ruin underneath. As -the Pisans exposed the real degradation of their slavery, the facile -rash humanity of the French was touched to tears; and when Messer Simone -Orlandi (an accomplished gentleman who could express himself in French) -had finished his recital, it was not only the Pisans who, pale with -indignation and with pity, turned to the King of France on the throne -seated of Medici, and cried out to him, “Liberté, liberté, cher Sire!” - -At this point an accomplished Legist, a Counsellor of the Parliament in -Dauphiné, named Ribot, who also was a Master of Requests at Court, -turned to the King and said: it was indeed a lamentable case, and that -never, for sure, were any other men so hardly used as these. The King -himself—touched to the heart, as were all these frank and simple -Frenchmen, by the unsuspected misery beneath the gold brocades of this -fantastic Italy, and not quite understanding (as Commines suggests) what -it was the Pisans meant by this word Liberty—answered vaguely that he -would be content they should enjoy it. This at least is the mild version -of Commines, who was absent in Venice at the time; but Pierre Desrey, -actually present at the scene, puts a stronger warrant in the mouth of -Charles: “Il les assura de les conserver dans leurs franchises.” - -That night the Florentines in Pisa—men in office, judges, merchants, and -soldiers of the garrison—were driven at the sword’s point out of the -rebellious city. The statue of Marzocco on the bridge was hurled in a -thousand pieces into the muddy Arno; the standard of Florence was -dragged and trampled in the mire; and bonfires until morning hailed the -discomfiture of the King’s allies. On the morrow after noon Charles left -the city. He had placed a garrison of three hundred French soldiers in -the new citadel; he had appointed three commissioners to superintend -affairs; but he had taken no steps to impose the least restraint of -civil order upon this impassioned and suddenly enfranchised people. -Fortunately the nobles of the town took the matter into their wiser -hands. Twenty-four hours after the entry of the French, Pisa was a free -Republic governed by a Gonfalonier, six Priors, and a Balia of Ten, with -a new militia of its own, and, for the first time in eight and eighty -years, a Pisan garrison in the ancient citadel. - - - III. - -If we ask, What right had the King of France to set at liberty the -subjects of his allies, lent to him in his need as a temporary gage? we -find the question difficult to answer. To statesmen like Commines or -Briçonnet there was something shocking and dishonourable in the -liberation of Pisa by the King, something that the tenderest palliation -for generous youth and inexperience could not attempt to justify. On the -other hand, to fresh enthusiastic spirits, such as Ligny or the King -himself, there was a degree of inhumanity in leaving the Pisans to their -obvious slavery which no code of political honour could extenuate. - -These two parties, and these two counsels, marched with the King out of -Pisa into Empoli, where he slept that Monday night—doubtless in the same -bad inn that had so poorly housed the adventurous Medici just fifteen -nights ago. When, on the Tuesday, the King arrived at Signa he heard -that the city of Florence was in revolt. Florence and Pisa, unknown to -one another, had each regained their liberty upon the selfsame day. For -when the King of France came in sight of the group of domes and towers -along the Arno, his young guest at Sarzana, so recently the lord of all -this beauty, was escaping to Bologna across the mountains in disguise -with a price upon his head. - -Charles, the pupil of the Duke of Milan, was not well inclined to -Florence; and he was not propitiated by the fact that Piero de’ Medici -had been expelled the city on account of the great concessions he had -made to France at the time of his fugitive visit to Sarzana. A month ago -the King had declared that Piero alone was his enemy, and that the city -was his friend; since the 30th of October he had changed his mind it was -the pliant Medici who now appeared his friend, and his anger was against -rebellious Florence. - -Yet what had Florence done more audacious than that which Charles -himself had sanctioned in the Pisans? Florence had expelled the Medici; -Pisa the Florentines, almost at the selfsame hour. But the fact that the -Florentines condemned the loan of the fortresses hardened the heart of -the King, conscious that by the liberation of the Pisans he had -justified the greatest of their fears. This was, in fact, the direst -harm with which an enemy could threaten Florence; and Charles had done -it despite his name of friend. It was only natural that he should -nourish a grievance against the ally whom he had injured; and when on -the 17th of November the French entered Florence, it was remarked that -the King rode through the streets, lance on thigh, with the bearing of -an offended conqueror. His mind was as haughty as his mien, and he was -prepared to claim from the Republic the independence of Pisa and the -restoration of Piero to the chief place in the government. - -But the Florentines were no less resolute than Charles. Capponi made his -famous threat, and the King, after ten days of vain parade of force, -swore a solemn treaty with the Florentines upon the 25th of the month. -By the terms of this convention it was arranged that Pisa and Leghorn -were to be left in the hands of the King till his return from Naples, -and then given back to Florence; the King was to decide between Genoa -and Florence as to the final disposal of Sarzana and Pietro Santa; the -King was to say no more till March concerning the restoration of the -Medici, when the Signory, if he desired, would reconsider the matter, -and meanwhile, by Royal request, the price was taken off the tyrants’ -heads, and the wife and child of Piero were permitted to remain in -Florence. The Signory agreed to pay the King, in three terms, the sum of -120,000 ducats towards the expense of the campaign; but, for us, the -most important proviso of this treaty (which the student may consult in -the first volume of Desjardin’s “Négociations”) is one that secured a -complete amnesty for Pisa. Moreover Florence promised, in favour of the -King, to rule that city in the future with a more liberal and a gentler -hand. - -It was not three weeks since Charles had promised to maintain the Pisans -in their liberty, and those unhappy patriots who could not penetrate -(Commines declares that no Italian ever could) the shifting confusion of -the Court, did not know, and would have little cared to understand, that -Beaucaire and Ligny had held the balance yesterday, but Gannay, Gié, and -Briçonnet to-day. The only consolation that they could have found in -this unstability of favour was the chance that their advocates might -soon again succeed to power, and as a fact they had made a great point -in securing the sympathy of Ligny (the King’s cousin) and Piennes—two -young gentlemen of the King’s own age who were his inseparable -companions, wore armour like his own and the Royal colours. These two -gallants counted on their side the Seneschal of Beaucaire, one of the -King’s two especial counsellors. But the other, Briçonnet, supported the -Florentine party. The elder and more diplomatic statesmen, such as, Gié, -Gannay, and Commines, were all on the side of Florence. - -Such was the position of the Court when, in the January of 1495, the -Pisans sent to Rome, as a last desperate advocate of their extremity, a -gentleman of their city, skilled in French, one Messer Burgundio Legolo, -or Lolo as the slurring Pisan voices gave the name. The King received -the ambassador graciously, but in the presence of the Florentine envoys; -and the party of pity, and the party of honour (if so we may name the -factions of Ligny and of Briçonnet) were both assembled when the Pisan -advocate began to address the King: - -“Now for nearly ninety years,”[130] began Burgundio Lolo, “the city of -Pisa, once the greatest in Italy, once carrying her Empire into the -recesses of the East, has suffered the yoke of an intolerable servitude. -The cruel avarice of Florence has brought our city into so great a depth -of desolation that her streets are almost empty of inhabitants, for the -most of her citizens, unable to endure this grinding slavery, have gone -into a voluntary exile abandoning their native land. Those that remain, -incapable of plucking from their hearts the love of country, have indeed -renounced all else that renders life endurable. The acerb and cruel -exactions of foreign taxes, the insolent rapine of private Florentines, -the injustice that forbids us by art or trade or public office to -recruit our fallen fortunes, have left us an empty life, plundered of -all enjoyment: nay, dangerous even and deadly, for the clayey marshes -that our ancestors kept with exact and pious diligence, are now so -little drained, so long neglected that the waters of Maremma sap our -fairest palaces and our churches, our houses, our public buildings fall -into ruins while the miasma of those stagnant waters breeds a grievous -fever in our midst. And where shall we turn to forget our misery and our -dishonour? we, who are denied an outlet to our energy and our ambition? -As we pass the void hours of our leisure in the ruined streets of our -once glorious city, shall we not feel the pity of the ruin? shall we -look unmoved upon the dishonoured remnant of the magnificence of our -ancestors? Nay, since it is no shame to Pisa, after a long renown to be -fallen in decay—because in all the eminence of this world there is -inherent this fatality of corruption—were it not wiser, even for her -conquerors, in musing on her ancient greatness to turn their hearts to -pity, rather than to use so cruel an advantage over a city in whose -decadence they should, in truth, behold the inevitable presage of their -own? - -Footnote 130: - - See the speech—true, we may suppose, in fact if not in phrase—as - reported in Guicciardini’s “History.” - -“Alas, so cruel, so insatiable, so impious has been the Florentine -dominion that, rather than return to that slavery, we would forfeit life -itself. And now at last a hope—a dear hope of liberty—has dawned upon -us; and we beseech you, O King of France, with tears—not only these few -visible tears of mine, but, invisible and ample, the lamentations of all -the distant city—here at your feet, O King, I beseech you to remember -what justice, what piety, what clemency of a magnanimous prince would -shine for ever round your name should you choose to be the Father and -Deliverer of Pisa, rather than the Minister of the slavery of Florence.” - -There was a little silence. In these accents men seemed to hear an echo -of that natural law that lives immutable behind the convenience of -nations—νομὶμα ἄγραπτα κᾶσφαλὴ θεῶν. The King’s face glowed; and the -enthusiasm of Ligny and Piennes was reflected in the demeanour of -Beaucaire, a rash and low-born person moved by pity, moved by Pisan -money also (if we are to believe Guicciardini), moved certainly by -rivalry of Briçonnet. The other party waited somewhat anxiously for the -Florentine ambassador to answer Lolo. Soderini, Bishop of Volterra, was -a practical and eminent statesman, but on that excited audience his -words fell without wings to reach their hearts. - -Florence, he said, had bought Pisa with good money. She had been kinder -than she need have been, for when the wilful Pisans yielded, half-dead -with famine, she had brought more victuals than firearms to finish their -subjection. She had the right to use her chattel as she would, and had -she been a thousand times more harsh who should come between a man and -his own? It was ridiculous to prate of the ancient grandeur of Pisa—God -had made an end of that long before the Florentines, and she had been a -poor bargain to Florence ever since the hour of her purchase. - -So spoke the hard-headed Bishop of Volterra. But even as reported by a -Florentine historian these arguments do not make any great effect; and -it was quite clear, as he avows, that the Pisan advocate had made a far -deeper impression on the King. And as, that very week, Briçonnet was -sent to Florence upon a diplomatic mission, the party of Pisa remained -triumphant in the camp where with (Commines in Venice and Briçonnet in -Tuscany) Beaucaire and Ligny and Piennes held for the moment the whole -of Royal favour. - - - IV. - -Louis de Ligny-Luxembourg, Grand Chamberlain of France, cousin of the -King through his Savoyard mother, was the son of that unfortunate Comte -de St. Pol decapitated by Louis XI. He was not only one of the great -nobles of France, but one of the first gentlemen in Europe, for his -house was ancient and illustrious by descent and especially fortunate in -marriage. Nevertheless the young man was poor; yet owing to his charming -manners, his courage and adroitness, he was a most important factor not -only in the Court of the King but in the Court of Orleans. The Count of -Ligny, chivalrous, amorous, and pitiful, flits, for a brief moment, like -the figure of Youth in an allegory—across the serious stage of the -Italian wars; and his tragic childhood and his melancholy marriage seem -to throw out with a brighter lustre the intrinsic brilliance of that -scintillating presence. - -He was, say the French chroniclers, “prince gentil vaillant, adroit et -généreux,” a pattern for nobles and the beloved of ladies. Guicciardini, -looking from another point of view, calls him juvenile, inexperienced, -and light. To quote a final authority, Commines briefly gives the reason -for our dwelling on him: “Above all others,” says he, “this young -gentleman especially favoured the Pisans’ cause.” - -Ligny had ever been a politician of Orleans’ party, that earlier faction -so long stimulated by intriguing Venice, which aimed not only at the -conquest of Naples, but also at securing Milan. With these two great -possessions at either end of Italy, it was clear that Pisa would make an -excellent half-way house. Pity for the Pisans was probably the essential -motor of Ligny’s action, yet there is no doubt he desired to further the -policy of Orleans. And before the winter was over, Ligny’s marriage gave -him a personal interest in the game. - -In the early spring of 1495, Charles VIII. had arrived in Naples. With -that fatal lack of policy which was destined to frustrate a more than -mortal triumph, he began to lavish the possessions of the Neapolitan -aristocracy upon his favourites and countrymen. A wiser King would have -conciliated the native barons and wedded their interest to his own, so -that when he came to leave the country he should leave behind him a -whole nobility of viceroys. But Charles only thought of rewarding his -favourites of the hour. The daughter of the Prince of Altamura, the last -of her house, the heiress of immense possessions, was reserved for -Ligny. - -Madonna Lionora was a young princess of more than common interest, the -last Altamura in the direct line, the last of that race which claimed to -be descended from the Three Kings of the East. It was easy to make the -Count of Ligny virtually the Prince of Altamura by marrying him to this -young girl. This was done, but Ligny was barely seven days the -bridegroom of his lovely Mage when the King, alarmed at the preparations -of the League, determined to march northwards. Ligny of course went with -him, leaving his bride behind him in a convent. And on the long road -northwards the desire to be near his young wife and his new possessions -gave a keener zest to the scheme of a Central Italian French dependency -of which Ligny himself should be made the governor. When the army -reached Siena, though the city was a fief of the Holy Roman Empire, and -therefore implicated in the Anti-Gallic league, none the less the -Republic declared for France, demanding Ligny for her governor. The -young man left a garrison there under Gaucher de Tinteville, and went -with the King, hoping to pursue a like policy in Pisa. - -The King had not yet decided whether he would halt in Pisa or in -Florence. On the eve of Corpus Christi, Wednesday, the 17th of June, the -French reached Poggibonsi where the roads divide. Here they halted for a -day to keep the festival, and here the King was met by no less a -personage than Savonarola, accompanied by fifty notables of Florence. -This at the moment must have appeared terribly against the plans of -Ligny, for if there was a man in Italy whom the French regarded with a -curious, half-superstitious respect, it was this authoritative friar, -with the harsh sweetness in his voice, the saturnine head, the asper and -loving expression in his painful smile, who, as one authorized of -heaven, had foretold their advent before they were persuaded to the -step. - -Poggibonsi, as I have said, is the last considerable town before the -ways divide that lead to Pisa and to Florence. At such a cross-road was -also the mind of Charles. Which turning should he take? “Keep your vows, -restore the cities, respect Florence, lest ye incur the awful judgment -of God, whose name, unless ye keep your oath, ye took in vain upon the -altar of St. John in Florence!” So thundered Savonarola; and there were -many things in favour of this plan; firstly, the strong personal -influence of the prophetic Ferrarese; secondly, the fact that Charles -was sore in need of ready money, and hoped to borrow it in Florence; -thirdly, at Poggibonsi he had heard that war was begun, that Orleans was -in Novara, and, therefore, he himself and his handful of troops in -desperate need of the Florentine army. A little persuasion and no doubt -the King would have gone to Florence; but Savonarola scorned to -persuade, he menaced. The city, he said, was armed to the teeth; she -would receive the King rather as a prodigal than a conqueror. If he -wished to conciliate her, let him keep his word; then, but only then, -she would shower her benefits upon the elect of God. - -This accent was not so moving to the King as the entreaties of Burgundio -Lolo. Pisa, as Charles knew very well, would receive him as a hero and a -deliverer—but Pisa had neither men nor money. - -In these uncertainties two days went by; the King alternately assuring -Savonarola that he would keep his word to Florence, and protesting that -he had not the heart to break that earlier promise given to the Pisans. -Out of this hobble there was no way except by broken vows and treachery. -It was a delicate question for a chivalrous prince, nourished, like -Charles, on Amadis and Arthur: for to keep faith with the Pisans would -be to ruin his ally; and to keep faith with Florence to hand over to -slavery a people who had solemnly placed themselves under his -protection. Nor were the political advantages quite easy to decide. -Florence, of course, offered men and money sorely needed; but Pisa -offered an asylum in case of reverses further north, or in case the -Florentines should prove as faithless as the rest of the Italians. For -Pisa was not merely a friendly city, but a city actually in the hands of -France. This was certainly an argument—“nevertheless,” says -Guicciardini, “I doubt if anything so logical could influence the King. -Much more potent with such as he were the tears, and entreaties of the -Pisans.” Those tears, invisible and ample as the waters of life, -Burgundio Lolo had quoted to the King at Rome; and after all these -months the memory of the Pisan advocate pleaded successfully against the -actual influence of Savonarola. - -At last a straw decided the unsteady balance. At a village called -Campana, or Cassino, near to Florence, the King heard of a cruel raid -committed by the Florentines upon the Pisan town of Pontevalle. There -had been French soldiers in the fort; but when the French archers came -up to the rescue they found the little place untenanted save by dying -men, wheeling birds of prey, and corpses. The King was furious against -the Florentines; yet it was with the lightness of heart that follows the -taking of a difficult decision that he set his back against the town, -“et gaiement s’en alla dedans Pise.” - - - V. - -History is not decided by oratory. The eloquence of Lolo, the menaces of -the Friar, had conspired with a momentary distress and anger, to lodge -the French in Pisa. It still remained to see what Charles would do. The -first move promised little; in order to guard against a second surrender -to the impulse of the moment Charles sent a messenger to Florence, and -promised to speak the final word, only when he should have arrived in -Lucca. - -But if history is in fact decided by Necessity—that grim and resolute -Anankê who cuts the most different characters to her pattern, making of -a Louis XI., and a Henry V., so individual as princes, no more, when -once the coronation day is over, than able continuers of the policy she -imposes; if Necessity and the slow evolution of ideas control the -individual, and leave him scarce more independent than the nail, which -moves indeed, but only moves to follow the control of the attracting -magnet; yet it is not merely by the unbroken sequence of Law that the -world progresses. Comets and cataclysms, plagues and earthquakes, and in -the moral world, sudden, fierce contagions of enthusiasm or ecstasy -interrupt and modify their course. - -Driven by a momentary resentment, a gust of pity and remembrance, into -Pisa, Charles was no sooner in the city than the King resumed his empire -over the Man. He sent, as I have said, an embassy to Florence, -reassuring as best he could the potent and wealthy city, putting off his -answer, and asking meanwhile for an instalment of money and three -hundred lances. The Florentines sent no money and only eighty lances, -and Charles perceived that the least extra strain would break the -slender thread that still bound her to the French. Henceforth he steeled -his royal heart against impolitic pity. It was in vain that he looked on -the statue of himself upon the bridge, embellished in sculpture, -resolute, heroic, Saviour of the City, trampling underfoot the Lion of -Florence and the Viper of Milan. It was in vain, that, at the entrance -of the army, the little children of Pisa dressed in white satin sown -with _fleur-de-lis_ rushed to the gates to meet the soldiers, crying in -their high, sweet, confident voices, “Viva Francia!” It was in vain -that, in the early morning, as the King returned from the intenerating -Sacrament of the Mass, he met in the streets the fairest ladies of the -town, barefoot, dishevelled, dressed like slaves in coarse mourning -garments, who dropped before him on their knees, sighing and wailing for -liberty. - -The most that Charles could do was to defer, to temporize, to vacillate; -he could not be brought to pledge himself to more. He, with a remnant of -his army, was alone in an inimical country, subject at any moment to -encounter the forces of Venice, Milan, Spain, the Emperor and the Pope; -meanwhile Florence was his one efficient friend. Florence to him had -been a leal and honest ally; dare he desert her? ought he to repay her -sacrifice with ruin? And yet this faithful Florence had behaved to Pisa -in a fashion cruel and anti-human beyond words. And Pisa also had -trusted him; Pisa was tenderly his friend. Could he fling the wounded -hare which had taken refuge under his royal mantle to the fierce eyes -and gaping jaws of the hound which served him? - -The question wrung the conscience of the man. But, for the King, the -matter was easily decided. His first duty was to his country and his -troops; Florence could help him to reach the forces of Orleans in safety -and with some degree of glory; but Pisa could furnish no active aid at -all. - -Meanwhile, the army had become fired with entirely different -convictions. Suddenly King Charles, the adored conqueror, the second -Charlemagne, the unlettered and ugly little captain whose soldiers’ -devotion so amazed the Milanese, beheld himself in the midst of his -troops almost without authority. The army, like one man, rose and spoke -on behalf of the Pisans. - -Insulated in this shelter of Pisa, with the offended Florentines -continually harassing his outposts, with in front the fastnesses of the -Apennines, and (God alone knew where) the five-toothed Trap of the -League into which his little force must fall—in this terrible -complication Charles beheld himself menaced by no less than the mutiny -of his own army. And for what? Not on account of the light head and -imprudent heart that had brought this handful of soldiers to fight such -fearful odds. This rebellion was inspired purely by the pity inspired by -men whose situation was certainly less hazardous than the peril of their -indignant champions. - -But all day long the army surged in front of the palace clamouring -“Liberty! liberty!” in more virile voices than the Pisans’. The army -infected the Court; and one day, when the King sat playing draughts -alone with M. de Piennes, forty or fifty gentlemen of the Royal -household with their partisans forced their way into his chamber and -declaimed the woes of Pisa. Charles was indignant, and spoke so roughly, -that they took their persuasions and menaces elsewhere. Even the poor -archers, says Commines, moved by pity for the tears and lamentations of -the Pisans, threatened those whom they believed persuaded the King to -keep his oath at Florence. A private archer menaced Briçonnet; others -used rude language to Marshal de Gié; and for three nights President -Gannay durst not sleep in his lodgings. The Frenchmen infected the -Swiss; and these ferocious giants, who a few days later should massacre -man, woman, and child at Pontremoli, proved themselves as passionate in -their apology for liberty. “Do you want money?” cried young Sallezart -their paymaster. “Is it mere money that leads you to this infamy? Take -rather our collars, our buckles, and our silver ornaments; stop our -wages and spend the sum of our arrears. We will pay you as well as -Florence! only set the Pisans free!” - -In front of such enthusiasm Charles dared not avow a contrary decision. -It was in vain that Briçonnet and his party urged instant fidelity to -Florence. It was useless for Commines to observe that keeping faith with -Florence did not preclude a sentiment of tenderest concern for Pisa, -though after all, as the excellent diplomat observed, “Divers cities in -Italy that be in subjection are as evil-entreated as she”—_Sie ist nicht -die Erste_. Charles would promise nothing to Pisa, nothing definite; but -also he would make no vows to Florence. He knew that the task before his -little army was of the sternest and of the severest, physically -impossible to discouraged and disaffected troops. Therefore he wrote to -the Florentines saying that he would give his answer, not at Lucca, but -at Asti; and while, in his heart, as we shall see, he meant to make the -best of terms for Pisa, and then restore her to the Florentines, he left -for the nonce, a French garrison in the city, three hundred picked men, -difficultly spared, under the governorship of Robert de Balzac Seigneur -d’Entragues. Thus, by a judicious temporizing, Charles hoped to untie -the Gordian knot. By turning his back on the difficulty he thought he -had suppressed it. And yet, were these three hundred men left behind in -Pisa, likely to become more obedient to an absent monarch? Was -Entragues, a man of Orleans’ household, Ligny’s candidate, likely to -carry out the views of Commines or of Briçonnet against the avowed -policy of his master and his patron? Charles, it may be supposed, did -not ask himself these questions. He bestowed on Entragues, not merely -the governorship of Pisa, but the command of the frontier castles, and, -without further hesitation, left the town. - -Robert de Balzac, Seigneur d’Entragues, was, says Commines, a very -ill-conditioned fellow. But a similar opinion has been entertained by -many historians for the most successful of their political opponents. -Robert de Balzac was the son of Jean d’Entragues and his wife the sister -of the famous Comte de Dammartin. Robert was a very young man when the -accession of Louis XI. brought about the disgrace and exile of his -all-powerful uncle. Every student of history is familiar with the legend -of that great disgrace: how the estates of the unhappy minister were -divided among the favourites at Court; how his wife with her suckling -child was left destitute and hunted out of all her castles; how forsaken -by all her friends, she wandered like an excommunicated woman along the -lanes of Dammartin begging for her bread, until a poor day-labourer, -Anthoine Le Fort, took the abandoned Countess to his hovel and sheltered -her and her baby, eighteen months old, the starving little godson of the -Duke of Bourbon. Jeanne was still in the peasant’s hut; her husband had -fled for his life to Germany; when, as a last effort, Robert de Balzac, -the Count’s nephew, was sent to Court to plead his cause. It was no -light task to undertake. Men had been banished or odiously imprisoned -for entreating the pardon of Dammartin, and many well-meaning friends -would have dissuaded the young man. But he went his way, arriving at -Court about the end of 1466, and pleaded so well that, after several -audiences, the King recalled his uncle and placed him high in favour. - -Such was the man—about forty years of age, rhetorical, impulsive, brave, -generous, and audacious whom the King had left in command at Pisa. - - - VI. - -The little army of Charles, dragging its artillery with lacerated hands -across the Apennines, cutting its way through the Venetian forces at -Fornovo, arrived at last in Asti; and, when August came, the prospect of -peace began to brighten before them. The King had come to terms with -Florence; and—granted the inevitable treachery of the situation—the -Treaty of Turin was not unkind. It is true that the King agreed to -restore the city of Pisa, with the other Tuscan fortresses, to his ally -of Florence; but on the express proviso of not merely an amnesty for the -Pisans. Henceforth they were to trade by sea and land on equal terms -with Florence, they were to enjoy the same civil rights, their ancient -arts of navigation and ship-building were to be released from embargo, -and their sequestered property was to be given back to their possession. -Charles had put his muzzle on the hound; Pisa, though restored to her -immemorial energy, should henceforth be protected by the chief ally of -Florence. - -It was, in fact, a comparative equality that Charles proposed. Still -remaining an intrinsic part of the Florentine territory, as indeed the -safety and prosperity of that Republic demanded, henceforth the -admirable commercial situation of Pisa was not to be turned merely to a -Florentine profit, nor were the Pisans to be entirely governed for -Florentine ends and by a Florentine Council. In their government -henceforth the Pisans themselves should have a place and a right; and -the only exclusive advantage which the Florentines should retain would -be that superior dignity, that reserve of power, with which a powerful -mother-country inevitably controls her colonies and her dependencies. -Henceforth in law, in all that can be assessed by franchise and by -jurisdiction, the Pisans should stand on an equal footing with the -Florentines. - -This decided, Charles, satisfied he had been unfair to nobody, on August -16th, wrote from Turin a letter to Entragues, signed with his own -signature and countersigned by Orange, Vincula, Briçonnet, Gié, De la -Trémouille, Commines, and (somewhat to our surprise) Piennes. This list -of names is eloquent of the triumph of the diplomatic party; Ligny is -not there, nor D’Amboise nor Étienne de Beaucaire, though these were -among the nearest of the Royal counsellors. It was, in fact, necessary -that something should be done at once. Orleans and his men were still -starving in beleaguered Novara; Montpensier and the army were fighting -at desperate odds in Naples. Peace with Florence would immediately place -in the hands of the King 70,000 ducats and 250 men-at-arms;[131] besides -releasing the soldiers in Pisa, Murrone, Leghorn, Sarzana, Pietra Santa, -and Librafatta, who with the Florentine contingent would be an efficient -succour to Montpensier. But Florence would not pay the money until the -fortresses were in her hand. - -Footnote 131: - - A man-at-arms was a varying quantity of soldiers, from five in France - to three or sometimes one in Italy. - -The King’s letter to Entragues arrived in Pisa on the 29th of August. -“You may feel,” the letter ran,[132] “_on account of your oath_, a -certain difficulty in placing the new Citadel of Pisa in other hands -than ours, but we absolve and discharge you of that oath, and command -you, so soon as you receive this letter, incontinent to deliver the said -Citadel of Pisa into the hand of the Commissioners of Florence, provided -that one or any of our Councillors assure you that the Government of -Florence have accorded and agreed to our Articles.” - -Footnote 132: - - Archives de Florence, No. 52, quoted by Cherrier, ii. 294. - -“A cause du serment que vous avez fait, vous pourriez différer de ne -mettre la dicte Citadelle neufve de Pise en aultres mains que les -nostres.” This phrase conveys the suggestion that on leaving Pisa, -Charles had promised a permanent French protection to the city. At least -it seems clear that Entragues had sworn to yield his position only to -the French. - -These three months Entragues and his men had lived as the saviours of -Pisa with the Pisans, feted by the citizens, lodged not only in the -citadel but in the palace of the Medici upon Lung’ Arno; no longer an -insignificant portion of the motley hosts of France, but the beloved -guests and masters of this exquisite Southern city. They had the -advantage of the port from which to ship a succour to or from the armies -in the South; they enjoyed the great pine-woods of the sea, full of game -for hunting; they had grown to love the wide, soft views of fertile -plains bounded by a dim line of blue mountains where their comrades held -the frontier castles. The position of the French in Pisa was not only -felicitous, but strong; and they were required to abandon it into the -hands of the Florentines, allies, it is true, of their king, but to them -desperate and deadly enemies with whom, in defiance of the truce, they -had continually waged an aggravated and embittering guerilla war of -raids and plunder. And these three months, which had increased the -original suspicion and dislike which the French army entertained of -Florence, had been spent in befriending and helping the Pisans, for whom -even at the first they had felt so divine a rage of pity, and whom they -were now commanded to betray. Most of the men had probably made -relations in the town. Entragues as we know from Guicciardini, was much -in love with, and probably deeply influenced by, the daughter of Messer -Luca del Lante; and a little later he married either this or some other -Pisan lady, for Marin Sanuto speaks of San Cassano, the Pisan Ambassador -at Venice, as “el cugnato d’Andrages.” Thus passion, no less than -resentment, and the sense of well-being as well as compassion bound -Entragues to Pisa. Add to this, incredible as it may seem, the sentiment -of loyalty; for long as was the reign of Louis XI., it had not been long -enough to extirpate the feudal idea, and Entragues, although the subject -of the King, felt himself in a far more intimate degree the vassal of -Orleans, and the lieutenant of Ligny. Now, as I have said, the names of -Orleans and Ligny are conspicuously absent from the signatures below the -letter of the King. To yield Pisa would have been to reverse their -policy; and it is possible (to Commines, Guicciardini, Giulini, Porto -Venere, and other contemporaries, it appeared quite certain) that -Orleans or Ligny wrote to Entragues, and bade him resist the decision of -the King. This much at least is sure: _Entragues refused to yield the -fortresses_. - -Vainly the King reiterated his urgent letters—imploring letters, still -preserved in the Florence Archives under the dates of the 29th and 31st -of August, the 25th of September, the 1st and 22nd of October—letters, -beseeching, commanding the evacuation of the garrisons, but all in vain. -Not only Pisa, but Sarzana, Pietra Santa, Librafatta, and Murrone, -obstinately held out against the royal mandate; only the Governor of -Leghorn, on the 17th of September, yielded to the entreaties of his -sovereign. Meanwhile in Naples, in Gaeta, Taranto, and Atella, in all -the desolate villages of the wild Abbruzzi, the famished and abandoned -army looked northwards, in vain, day after day across the mountains. -Winter began to whistle shrilly across the windy hills; blue mists and -subtle fevers rose out of the marshy valleys; corn failed, and a cruel -famine began to devastate the land; and still the promised -reinforcements never came. Of that gallant army nearly every soldier -should perish by hunger, shipwreck, or malaria; for the troops that were -to bring them a succour out of Tuscany never left the cities where they -dwelt. - -On the 18th of September, Entragues drew up a formal treaty with the -Signory of Pisa. If in three months the King did not re-enter Tuscany, -he bound himself to evacuate the citadel, and leave it in the hands of -Pisa. Meanwhile they were to supply him every month with the two -thousand ducats necessary to pay and provision the garrison; and on his -abandonment of the fortress they were to purchase his artillery and to -give him the sum of 20,000 (or as Sanuto has it, 30,000) ducats for -himself. These terms were not excessive: the Florentines a few years ago -had cheerfully paid 150,000 ducats as the price of Pietro Santa, a less -important place. It was, however, as much as Pisa could pay: and to -raise the sum the ladies of Pisa cheerfully sold the brightest of their -jewels. And the Pisans in their gratitude for the staunchness and -moderation of Entragues awarded him a large estate, newly confiscated -from the Florentines, and a palace in the city. “It cannot be for money -that he did it,” remarks Guicciardini, “for certainly the Florentines -would have given him twice as much.” It was probably out of friendship -and pity, out of a genuine enthusiasm, out of an antiquated sentiment of -feudal devotion, combined with a desire to make a profit, that Entragues -committed this fatal and disastrous error. - - - VII. - -The Florentines were indeed in a peculiarly evil case; for Charles, who -was their ally, found himself powerless to procure them the restitution -of Pisa; and the Italian cities were resolved that, at no risk, must -Pisa pass to the ally of Charles. That post, in the hands of the friends -of France, would mean not merely a door always open from Marseilles into -Tuscany, but a continual supply of help to the French garrisons in -Naples. It was certain that Pisa must be kept, yet Pisa was too weak to -stand alone; plot and counter-plot darkened the decision as to which -great State the port of Pisa should belong. - -From the 16th of September to the 14th of December, Captain Fracassa, -the Duke of Milan’s captain, held the town, dogged by the jealous -surveillance of a Venetian commissary, while Entragues and his Frenchmen -shut themselves inside the citadel. A few months later the Sienese, -Lucchese, and Genoese, united in a secret league with Pisa against the -Florentines. Milan and Venice wove a ceaseless web of intrigue around -the place. And it is quite possible that by persisting in the citadel, -Entragues may have been animated by a lofty and heroic disobedience, -hoping by his presence to maintain Pisa in fidelity to France, and to -prevent it from strengthening the hands of the deadly enemies of his -country. - -Be this as it may, on the 1st of January, Entragues, having some days -ago assisted at the expulsion of Fracassa, placed the citadel in the -hands of the Pisan Signory. Great was the joy. Before the falling of the -night, the hated fortress, built by the Florentines to dominate the -town, was a shapeless heap of ruins. New money was struck, bearing the -head of Charles VIII.; and salvo on salvo of artillery rang right across -the plain to the very walls of Florence, announcing with a threat the -dawn of the New Year, which had begun with liberty in Pisa. - -Entragues himself, rich in the price of the gems of Pisan beauty, -retired for a month or two to Lucca, to conclude his traffic on the -fortresses. Pietra Santa he sold to Lucca, Sarzana to Genoa. He did a -good turn to Pisa, distributing them, for a round sum, among her allies. -But if he hoped that Pisa would maintain her independence by the -protection of these humbler friends he must easily have been deceived: -it was no later than the 26th of January when Messer Gianbernardin del -Agnolo was sent to Venice with a humble message, entreating the august -protection of that city for the young Republic. It was Venice, rather -than Milan, to whom the Pisans turned—Venice preponderate now in the -Peninsula, sheltering in secret Pisa and Taranto under her wide-reaching -ægis. During thirteen years from this date the shifting fortunes, the -greeds and jealousies of the great Italian cities, fostered an -artificial liberty in Pisa. Thrown like a ball from Milan to Venice, -Venice to Maximilian, Max again to Venice, and thence to Cæsar Borgia, -the unhappy Republic described the whole circle of desperate hope, -agonized courage, misery, poverty, cunning, and betrayal. But with the -anguish of her heroic vicissitudes we have, at this moment, no concern. -The conduct of Entragues is our affair. - -From that New Year’s Day all hope was over for the French in Naples. -Gaeta, Taranto, Atella, Ostia fell; Montpensier died of heartbreak, the -troops of fever; the great Guelf kingdom, the vision of so many -centuries, disappeared like fairy gold as soon as the French had grasped -it. - -In France, the Count of Ligny, Entragues’ patron, was banished from the -Court in disgrace. “He is gone to his estates in Picardy,” wrote Antonio -Vincivera, “like a desperate creature. The King has disgraced him -because of the affair of Pisa.” Thus Entragues, in the most effectual -manner, had ruined his master’s chances: and though in time Ligny was -pardoned by the King, it was not in the lifetime of his bride. In -February, 1498, the daughter of the Mages expired, far from the arms of -Ligny, in her Nunnery at Naples. - -But if the action of Entragues proved unfortunate to his friends, it had -a more deadly consequence to his enemies in Florence. The party of -Savonarola never recovered that failure of the French to give back Pisa. -For some time, amid famine, pestilence, and ruin, they kept a weakening -hold upon the city: “And still they stand in hope of the things above,” -mocks Maron Sanuto, in the spring of 1497, “and still they expect the -coming of the King.” A year later, in the May of 1498, Savonarola -expiated that delusion by the flaming penance of the stake. “Questa è la -fine dei cattivi!” ejaculates the Venetian Secretary. - -Of all the actors in this complicated drama, the one person who suffered -not at all was that dishonoured liberator, Entragues himself. He went -back to live in Pisa where he seems to have displayed an eminent and -almost official dignity. Twice in moments of difficulty it was proposed -that Entragues should be sent as envoy to Venice, in place of his -brother-in-law; but the necessity passed away. He remained in comfort -and splendour in Pisa, where we read of his receiving the Lucchese -ambassadors and conducting the diplomacy of the Republic. Pisa -herself—unhappy devotee of liberty!—grew poorer and ever poorer, a -humble pensioner on Venetian bounty: “They adore us,” remarks Sanuto -with some fatuity, “and, of a verity, they would starve without us.” -But, shorn of all her territories as she was, Pisa housed her liberator -in a palace, and little did it matter to this voluntary exile that his -King declared a readiness to decapitate him with royal hands. Meanwhile -he remained the natural centre of all dignity in Pisa. Here we catch a -last glimpse of him in that sinister spring of 1498 which witnessed in -Florence the martyrdom of Savonarola and in France the sudden death of -Charles VIII. The whirlwind that destroyed these mighty vessels allowed -the idle straw to float unharmed. “Entragues is back in Pisa,” writes -Sanuto, “which city is very poor now, having lost all her lands and -subsisting only on that which we afford her. He has returned some time -from his visit to Jerusalem. He lives with certain families in Pisa. He -has money of his own, and gives himself his pleasures.” - -Five years later, when the eminence of Venice was dangerously threatened -by Italian jealousy, the Pisans began to look about for a new Protector. -“We will offer ourselves to the Devil,” they declared, “rather than to -Florence.” As a matter of fact they offered themselves to Cæsar Borgia. -They made very few conditions: two of them are noteworthy in view of the -present history: - -“The Pisans will bestow themselves upon Il Valentino if neither he nor -the Pope will ever make peace or truce with Florence. - -“The new Duke must promise the city never to make any peace or league -with France.” - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - =The Gresham Press=, - UNWIN BROTHERS, - CHILWORTH AND LONDON. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - Transcriber’s Note - -The footnotes are moved to follow the paragraph within which they are -referenced, and are sequenced numerically for uniqueness. - -Hyphenation of compound words can be variable. Where it occurs on a line -break, the most commonly used form is assumed. Many footnotes contain -extended transcriptions in 14th or 15th century Italian, and it is -difficult to ascertain their correctness. With a few exceptions, noted -below, the text is printed verbatim. - -The name of the Convent of ‘Roderdesdorf’ in the Contents is everywhere -given in the text as ‘Rodardesdorf’. The Contents’ entry has been -corrected to facilitate searches. - -The page references in the Contents direct the reader to the indicated -topics. Be forewarned, however, that those references to the chapter on -‘The French at Pisa’ go astray after p. 354, and one entry is missing -entirely, but is most likely referring to p. 358. - -Obvious printer’s errors or printing flaws have been corrected, and are -noted here with their resolutions. The corrections are indicated by page -and line number, or, where the correction is to a note, by note and line -number within the note. - - iv.8 and, half afraid, [ /I] told you Restored. - - viii.1 the Convent of Rod[e/a]rdesdorf> Replaced. - - n1.3 Beginen-häuser [i]m Mittelalter Restored. - - n1.5 Geschic[h]te der deutschen Mystik Added. - - 8.29 the [the ]Alexandrian theories of the Removed. - pseudo-Dionysius - - 14.1 the poor vain min[s]trels Added. - - 33.28 suspected of her[se/es]y. Transposed. - - 37.17 the panth[ie/ei]st idea Transposed. - - 38.3 By the middle of the fifteenth century, Replaced. - [T/t]he Beghards - - 59.27 so many hours?[’] Added. - - 64.19 for the sins of the ungo[l]dly Removed. - - 61.17 thanksgi[v]ing Added. - - 82.21 this unconscious bea[u]titude Removed. - - n5.1 Bib. Nat. Fran[c/ç]ais Replaced. - - 120.9 Que cette Bergère jolie.[’/”] Replaced. - - 148.17 supers[ti]tition Removed. - - 149.21 “And that journey,” say[s] Froissart Added. - - n41.7 pour en avoir garde.[”] Added. - - 182.28 of his uncle Berna[d/b]ò> Replaced. - - 193.27 [(]if we may trust the verdict of Corio) Added. - - n57.6 (Pièces Originales Fontanieu, dossier 1185, Added. - No. 38[)] - - 200.13 the Duke was afraid of Sforz[o/a] Replaced. - - 207.16 proved irres[is]tibly fascinating Added. - - 221.5 resolution of Count Francesco Sforz[o/a]. Replaced. - - n90.1 promised to assis[t] the Dauphin Restored. - - 262.25 1,300 men-at[ /-]arms Replaced. - - 277.3 What was the magnificence of earth [ ] to him? _sic_: ‘to - him’? - - 282.23 he fought almost contin[u]ously Added. - - 294.4 mocking the sacred mon[o]gram> Added. - - 302.30 to take counsel with the wise old Replaced. - statesm[e/a]n and learn his views - - n113.13 et diceva non si voller p[ui/iù] curar ne de Replaced. - figlioli - - 309.21 he weary of his life[.] Added. - - 326.1 and to poor [l]ittle Lorenzio Restored. - - 321.24 in making improm[p]tu> verses Added. - - 330.25 with the said Peter[./,]>” says Commines Replaced. - - 335.20 Pietra Santa, which [which ]had cost them Removed. - 150,000 ducats - - 340.15 A Medite[rannean/rranean]> seaport Replaced. - - n120.9 guerra non gli [f/s]ia fatta a noi Replaced. - - n120.24 di questi ell[ /a] Restored. - - n121.17 la citt[a/à] nil Replaced. - - n121.18 del Seren[e/i]ssimo Re predetto. Replaced. - - n121.62 Che nel terreno di Pisa non dovess[o/e]no fare Replaced. - alcuna - - n122.12 he will make war upon the fra[u]dulent Added. - possessors - - 358.13 detention of the Florentine Ambassadors by Added. - Orleans[,] - - n129.2 della Repubb[l]ica> Fiorentina Added. - - 368.2 writes an eye-witness,[” to/ “to] hear them Replaced. - - 369.30 could not attempt to justify[-/.] Replaced. - - 388.4 Gi[e/é] Replaced. - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The End of the Middle Ages, by A. Mary F. 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