Memoirs of the Dukes of Urbino, Volume I (of 3)

IT is surely unnecessary to make any apology for this second edition of the Memoirs of the Dukes of Urbino. Notwithstanding all that has been done in the last fifty years by historians on the one hand, and by imaginative writers on the other, with the object of elucidating the history of that part of Central Italy which lies within the ancient confines of Umbria, or of appreciating the humanism of that Court which was once a pattern for the world, this book of James Dennistoun's remains the standard authority to which every writer within or without Italy must go in dealing in any way with these subjects. This very honourable achievement has been won for the book by the eager and methodical research of the author, who made himself acquainted with all available original sources, and in the years of his sojourn in Italy must have read and turned over a vast number of MSS., of which some have since been printed in various Bollettini, but a great number still remain in those Italian libraries which, always without an efficient catalogue and often without an excuse for one, are at once the delight and the despair of the curious student. For this reason, if for no other, such a work as this was not easy to supersede, and so, though a later writer always has an advantage, it was not outmoded by the careful and loving work of Ugolini in his Storia de' Conti e Duchi d'Urbino, which was written, I think, in exile.

But Dennistoun's Dukes of Urbino is not merely a history of the houses of Montefeltro and Della Rovere, of their famous and most brilliant Court, and of that part of Italy over which they held dominion, but really a work in belles-lettres too, discursive and amusing, as well as instructive. It deals not merely with history, as it seems we have come to understand the word, a thing of politics—in this case the futile and childish politics of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries in Italy—but illustrates "the arms, arts, and literature of Italy from 1440 to 1630." And indeed this programme was carried out as well as it could be carried out at the time these volumes were written. The book, which has long been almost unprocurable, is full, as it were, of a great leisure, crammed with all sorts of out-of-the-way learning and curious tales and adventures. Sometimes failing in art, and often we may think in judgment, Dennistoun never fails in this, that he is always interested in the people he writes of, interested in their quarrels and love affairs, their hair-breadth escapes and good fortunes. How eagerly he sides with Duke Guidobaldo, chased out of his city of Urbino by Cesare Borgia! It is as though he were assisting at that sudden flight at midnight, and, whole-heartedly the Duke's man as he was, almost fails to understand what Cesare was aiming at, and quite fails to see what Cesare saw too well—the helplessness of Italy, at the mercy, really, of the unconscious nations of the modern world. Such failures as this make his work, indispensable as it is, less valuable than it might have been, but they by no means detract from the general interest of the story. That is a quarry from which much has been hewn, and a good many of those enduring blocks which go to make up so popular and charming a work as John Inglesant came in the first instance from Dennistoun's volumes.

A second edition then, of such a work, as it seems to me, needs no excuse. What must, perhaps, be excused is my part in it, the intrusion of another personality into what was so completely the author's own. Yet I can truly say that I have intruded myself as little as possible, and, indeed, so far as the text goes, it stands almost as Dennistoun left it, with the correction of such errata as were due partly to the printers and partly to the oversight of the author. The notes which have been my business, my only part in the work, have filled the leisure of three years. They are far from being complete, and are imperfect in a thousand ways, as I know perhaps better than any one else, but they are as good and as useful as I could make them, and represent in some sort the work not of three years, but of ten. As for my intention in republishing Dennistoun's book with notes from my hand, I can frankly say that I undertook it from a love of all that concerns Italy, and especially Umbria, and therefore I have worked at it with joy through the long winter evenings, and in summer I have often raised my eyes from my manuscript to watch the dawn rise over Urbino and the beautiful great hills among which she is throned. And you, too, had you watched her thus, would have been sure that no labour of love could be too great for her. And then Dennistoun's book is so fine a monument of the love England has always borne to Italy. And I would be concerned in that too. Yet sometimes I have thought that, in spite of all my labour—and, though I loved it, labour it was—rather than sitting down to annotate another man's work, I should have done better to write my own. Friends, such as one must hear, were neither slow nor without persistence in impressing this upon me. I heard them and shook my head. I am not an historian, but a man of letters. This book is, after all, the work of one who thought well of facts, while I cannot abide them. For one idea, as I know well, I would give all the facts in the world. So the writing of history is not for me; for history is become a sort of science, and is no longer an art. And therefore I gladly leave her to the friend to whom I humbly dedicate my edition of this book, and to the virile embraces of Mr. William Heywood, who first led me into this nightmare of facts from which I am but just escaped. Let them settle it between them. For me there remains all the uncertainties that, God be thanked, can never be decided or be proved merely to have happened.

Thinking thus, I soon gave up any thought of writing the history of the Counts and Dukes of Urbino myself, and turned a deaf ear to those who would tempt me to it. I went on with my notes, however, partly from the joy one feels in playing with fire and all such mysterious and dangerous things, and partly from a hope that one day they might serve in some sort as finger-posts to an Englishman who should take up this subject and study it over again, from the beginning, more simply than Dennistoun was able to do.

As for Dennistoun's book, it always had my love, and day by day as I have worked through and through it, it has won my respect. Full of digressions, a little long-drawn-out, sometimes short-sighted, sometimes pedantic, it is written with a whole-hearted devotion to the truth and to the country which he loved. The facts are wonderfully sound, and if that part of the book for which it was most highly praised when it was first published—the chapters that deal with the history of Art—is become that which we can praise least, we must remember that in art, in painting more than anything else, fashion is king, and that the thrones from which we have driven Guido Reni, and perhaps Raphael, setting up in their stead other masters, are as likely as not to be in the possession of usurpers to-morrow, and we in as bad a case as our fathers.

Perhaps I may say a word about the illustrations. The book was one which lent itself very easily to illustration, and the great generosity of the publisher in this matter has been of the greatest satisfaction to me. I have sought in selecting my pictures to reflect the spirit of the book, which concerns itself with many a hundred things besides the Counts and Dukes of Urbino. As well as trying to give the reader all the portraits, or nearly all, that I could find, of the Montefeltro and Della Rovere Dukes, their Duchesses and courtiers, the men of letters, and the painters with whom they surrounded themselves, and the pictures of their gallery, I have made an attempt to illustrate the dress of the time—at a wedding, for instance, or in time of mourning; and seeing that this is for the most part a feminine business, I have chosen very many portraits of ladies, not only because they were beautiful, though there was that too, but also because they illustrated the manners of dressing the hair, or the wearing of jewels, and so forth; and I think this may be cause for entertainment as well as knowledge.

With regard certainly to two of the portraits I reproduce, I should like to suggest that they are of more than a superficial importance. I refer to the portraits of "Giulia Diva" and "Cesare Borgia," reproduced on page 330 of Vol. I. from contemporary medals now in the British Museum, by the courtesy of Mr. G.F. Hill, who had casts made for me.

The first, that of "Giulia Diva," I suggest is a portrait of Giulia Bella, Giulia Farnese, that is, mistress of Alexander VI. If it be so it is very precious, for no portrait of her is known to exist, and though in this medal, struck about 1482, she seems already middle-aged, we most probably see there the portrait of her whom the Pope would scarcely let out of his sight. Of the two reputed portraits, the nude figure, lying on the tomb in the apse of St. Peter's, was carved some thirty years after her death, and since the monument it adorns commemorates a Farnese Pope, it is little likely to be the beautiful Giulia who was in some sort the shame and not the boast of her house. Ruined now by the Puritanism that suddenly overwhelmed the Papacy after the Council of Trent, the body is almost completely hidden by the horrid chemise Canova made for her to reassure his master. The portrait of Giulia Farnese, which Vasari tells us is painted in the Borgia apartments, has never been identified.

As to the medal of Cesare Borgia, we are, I think, on surer ground. It bears his name, and was struck, Mr. G.F. Hill tells me, about 1500. In the Borgia apartments, as we know, he was certainly represented, and though his portrait has never been surely identified, this medal agrees so perfectly with Pinturicchio's portrait of the Emperor there, before whom S. Catherine of Alexandria (always supposed to be a portrait of Lucrezia Borgia) pleads, that we may well believe we have in that figure a contemporary portrait of one of the greatest and most romantic personalities then living.

My thanks are due to Mr. J.W. Dennistoun of Dennistoun for his courtesy in allowing me to reproduce the portrait of James Dennistoun, which forms the frontispiece to this work, and for his kindness in lending me the book from which I have drawn a good part of the Memoir which follows this preface. I have also to express my gratitude to Professor Zdekauer, Professor Anselmi, Mr. Edmund G. Gardner, Mr. William Heywood, Mr. G.F. Hill, Mr. William Boulting, and Mrs. Ross, for various assistance and kindness freely given whenever I sought it. I desire also to thank Mr. H.G. Jenkins for the infinite pains he has taken with the illustrations and the production generally of so large a book.

Edward Hutton.

London, September, 1908.

---

JAMES DENNISTOUN of Dennistoun and Colgrain was descended from the ancient and noble Scots family of the Lords de Danzielstoun. The first of his house of which authentic records can be traced is Sir Hugh de Danzielstoun, witness to a charter from Malcolm Earl of Lennox, who lived during the reign of Alexander III of Scotland, who died in 1286. His son, Sir John de Danzielstoun, was the associate-in-arms of his patriotic brother-in-law, the Earl of Wigton, and of Sir Robert Erskine in the reigns of Bruce and David II. His son, Sir Robert, was one of the young men chosen from among the "magnates Scotiæ" in 1357 as hostages for the payment to Edward III of 100,000 marks of ransom for the release of David II. He seems to have been a prisoner in England for a long time. With him the direct line of the house of Danzielstoun failed, and the representation devolved upon his brother Sir William de Danzielstoun, the first of Colgrain. So we find that in 1828 James Dennistoun of Dennistoun, the father of the author of this work, having succeeded to his father 1816 in the estates of Colgrain, Camis-Eskan, and Kirkmichael, proved his descent as heir male of Sir John de Danzielstoun Lord of Danzielstoun, and obtained the authority of the Lord Lyon to bear the arms proper to the chief of his house[1] and thereupon assumed as his designation, Dennistoun of Dennistoun. He married in 1801 Mary Ramsay, fifth daughter of George Oswald of Auchencruive, in the county of Ayr, and of Scotston, in the county of Renfrew. By her he had thirteen children, and died on June 1st, 1834.

James Dennistoun of Dennistoun, the author of this work, was born on the 17th March, 1803, in Dumbartonshire, and spent the greater part of his youth with his grandfather, George Oswald of Scotston, to whom he owed, as he said, his first impulse towards letters. About the year 1814 he and his brother George were placed under the care of a tutor, the Rev. Alexander Lochore, later minister of Drymen parish. He then proceeded to Glasgow College, and later read for the Bar, though with no intention of practising. He passed advocate in 1824, but seems by then and for long after to have been gathering information regarding the old families of Dumbartonshire, which he placed at the disposal of Mr. Irving, who acknowledges his indebtedness to him. It was in 1825 that he went to Italy, spending Christmas in Rome with a few friends, and meeting there Isabella Katherina, eldest daughter of James Wolfe Murray, Lord Cringletie, whom he married in 1835. In 1836 he sold the family estates, including Colgrain and Camis-Eskan, and purchased Dennistoun Mains in Renfrewshire, the property which gave name to his house. His visits to Italy then became frequent, their most important result being the Memoirs of the Dukes of Urbino, which he published in 1851. He died some four years later, on February 13th, 1855, and was buried at his own desire in the Greyfriars churchyard, Edinburgh, not in the family vault at Cardross.[2]

The best contemporary account of his life appeared in the Gentleman's Magazine for June, 1855, which he was so fond of quoting.

"Mr. Dennistoun," we read there, "was born in Dumbartonshire in 1803, and was the representative of the knightly house of Danzielstoun in Renfrewshire, one of the oldest Scottish families. He was educated at the College of Glasgow and qualified himself for the Bar in Edinburgh; but his taste took a different direction, and being possessed of sufficient fortune, he turned aside from the legal profession and devoted his whole attention to literature, in connection chiefly with the Fine Arts. He was an amateur of Art according to the true and proper meaning of that designation—he loved and admired Art, and studied to appreciate the best examples that the world possesses. Though in following out these studies he devoted much of his time to the Italian school, as there painting first arose in strength, yet he was no bigoted admirer, and could appreciate the qualities of all kinds of Art, whether Italian or German, ancient or modern. He then aimed at giving to the public the ideas he had formed regarding its principles, and the facts he had collected as to its history. He could not unfold before all his friends and visitors portfolios filled with sketches, done by himself, of passes in the Alps, or of scenery in the Tyrol, or of views of the Temple of the Sibyl at Tivoli, of Mount Vesuvius, etc.; but to all who wished to learn, he could impart in a manner the most simple and unpretending, but with a clearness and elegance that impressed and charmed all who were privileged to hear him (and these were many), information and instruction on almost everything relating to Art: while he often explained and illustrated what he stated by reference to examples he had himself collected—many of them of great rarity and value.

"He was a member of most of those societies formed for collecting materials for, and adding to and illustrating the literature of Scotland, and besides editing several important publications by the Bannatyne and Maitland Clubs, contributed many interesting papers on subjects connected with Art to most of the leading periodicals, particularly to the Edinburgh and Quarterly Reviews.

"His first work, we believe, was the edition of Moysie's Memoirs of the Affairs of Scotland from 1577 to 1603, which he contributed to the Bannatyne and Maitland Clubs in 1830. This was followed by the Cartularium Comitatus de Levenax, ab initio seculi decimi tertii usque ad annum MCCCXCVIII, edited by Mr. Dennistoun, and printed for the Maitland Club by Mr. Campbell of Barnhill. In 1834 another illustration of Lennox history proceeded from Mr. Dennistoun's pen, in a reprint of The Lochlomond Expedition, with some Short Reflections on the Perth Manifesto, 1715. He also edited the volume of The Coltness Collections, 1608-1840, for the Maitland Club, in 1842. The Ranking of the Nobility, 1606, was printed, along with some other papers, in The Miscellany of the Maitland Club.

"A residence in Italy gave a new bent to his pursuits. One of the first-fruits of these Transalpine studies was a deeply interesting paper on The Stuarts in Italy, published in the Quarterly Review for December, 1846. But by far the most considerable result of Mr. Dennistoun's Italian sojourn was his Memoirs of the Dukes of Urbino, published in three volumes in 1852. This work is of great value, as illustrating the state of Italy during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the portion devoted to the Arts of the period being particularly interesting; and it is to be regretted that from a delicacy carried perhaps too far, he has curtailed this important section—the one he could best handle—from fear, as he states in the preface, of trenching on ground entered on by his friend, Lord Lindsay.

"Mr. Dennistoun was the writer of the article on Mr. Barton's 'History of Scotland' in the Edinburgh Review for October, 1854; and also of the analysis lately given in the same periodical of the Report by the Commission on the National Gallery, which is very masterly, and, indeed, the only successful attempt yet made to grapple with that huge accumulation of facts and opinions of all kinds.

"He had just lived to complete another very interesting work, consisting of the Memoirs of Sir Robert Strange, the excellent engraver, and of his brother-in-law, Andrew Lumisden, secretary to the Stuart princes, and author of the Antiquities of Rome. Sir Robert Strange was the maternal grandfather of Mrs. Dennistoun. To that lady, Isabella-Katharina, eldest daughter of the Hon. James Wolfe Murray, Lord Cringletie, a Lord of Session, Mr. Dennistoun was married in 1835."

In the Report from the Select Committee on the National Gallery, published by order of the House of Commons in December, 1853, we find Dennistoun as one of the witnesses. His evidence appears to have been of some value, and the articles which he wrote for the Edinburgh Review, both before and after the Report was published, are excellent both in tone and substance.

"You are the possessor," he was asked, "of a small and, I may say, very choice collection of Italian pictures, are you not?"

"A collection of early Italian pictures," he answered. And, indeed, in his day such a collection must have been very rare in England, or, in fact, anywhere else. These pictures were sold with other works of art that had been in his possession, on Thursday, June 14, 1855, and by the courtesy of Messrs. Christie, Manson & Woods, of King Street, St. James's, I am able to print the catalogue they prepared for the sale, and the prices the pictures fetched.

E.H.

---

The PICTURES comprise choice Examples of the Italian School, commencing with the Works of some of the earliest Masters; also of the Spanish, German, Flemish, French, and English Schools.

The other WORKS OF ART include three very interesting early Paces, of Niello Work; Tryptics, of Ivory and Bone; a few Bronzes; Majolica Plates; Illuminated Miniatures; a Crucifix, in Boxwood, etc.

WHICH

Will be Sold by Auction, by

Messrs. CHRISTIE & MANSON,

AT THEIR GREAT ROOM,

8 KING STREET, ST. JAMES’S SQUARE,

On THURSDAY, JUNE 14, 1855,

AT ONE O’CLOCK PRECISELY.

May be viewed Three days preceding, and Catalogues had, at Messrs. CHRISTIE and MANSON’S Offices, 8, King Street, St. James’s Square.

---

Note: The figures in brackets are the prices at which the works they refer to were bought in.

Early Florentine	1	The Virgin, suckling the Infant	£1	5s.
Fra Angelico da Fiesole	2	The Madonna, and St. John	£6	6s.
Fra Angelico da Fiesole	3	The Resurrection, two soldiers sleeping beneath—very small. Pronounced by Dr. Waagen "a genuine picture."	£44	2s.
Fra Angelico da Fiesole	4	The Virgin enthroned, with two saints at her side. A very interesting small work. From the Gerini Gallery; on which Dr. Waagen says, "In this little picture all that earnestness and spirituality peculiar to that master is expressed"	£56	14s.
Berna di Sienna	5	The Stoning of St. Stephen—painted on gold ground	£2	10s.
Giottino	6	The Crucifixion, on gold ground—small, with pointed top	£5	10s.
Giottino	7	The Crucifixion, with the Maries and the centurion and soldiers beneath—on gold ground, with pointed top	£5	15s.
Giottino	8	The Crucifixion, with the Virgin and St. John; the Magdalen kneeling at the foot of the cross—small square.	£4	4s.
Taddeo Gaddi	9	The Epiphany, and Visitation—parts of a predella	£19	8s.	6d.
Gentile da Fabriano	10	The Holy Family, seated before a building, the Magi in adoration, in the singular landscape background	£21
School of Memmi	11	The Virgin and Child—a fragment	£3	10s.
S. Memmi	12	The Virgin and Child, with saints on gold ground—a fragment. From the collection of M. Lauriani of the Vatican—unframed	£2	5s.
Cos. Roselli	13	The Miracle of St. Augustine. An interesting composition of nine figures	£15	15s.
Don Lorenzo Monaco	14	The Nativity: the Virgin kneeling, St. Joseph seated on the ground, the Infant in a manger, the shepherds and angels above. From the collection of M. Lauriani, Librarian of the Vatican	£9	19s.	6d.
Giovanni Sanzi	15	The Madonna and Child	£12	12s.
Sano di Pietro di Sienna	16	The death of Santa Monaca, who is being laid in the tomb by the Saviour and a bishop. An interesting specimen	£9	9s.
Duccio di Sienna	17	A beautiful small tryptic, in five parts: in the centre the Virgin and Child enthroned; on the wings St. Nicholas, St. Peter, St. Paul, and St. Jerome, on gold ground; the Emperor Constantius and Empress Helena, and the Entombment on the outside of the wings. This interesting work is most perfectly preserved	£22	11s.	6d.
Greek School	18	St. Nicolas: a Byzantine painting—on gold ground [Transcriber's Note: price missing in original]
Lorenzetti di Sienna	19	A large tryptic: the Virgin and Child, with two angels in the centre; two saints presenting devotes on each wing—painted on gold ground, with pointed tops	£30	9s.
G. Schiavone	20	An altar-piece, on gold ground, described by Dr. Waagen as "an altar-piece by Gregorio Schiavone, in different compartments: in the centre the Virgin and Child; at the sides a sainted monk and John the Baptist; above, in the centre, the dead Christ, supported by two angels; at the sides, St. Anthony of Padua and St. Peter Martyr; below, on a predella of unusual height, two male and two female saints, inscribed 'Opus Sclavoni discipulus Squarcione S.' This is the best specimen known to me of this scholar of Squarcione; some of the heads are of good expression, the colouring of the flesh is less cold, the outlines of the forms less hard and cutting than usual"	£46	4s.
Giovanni Sanzi	21	Portrait of Raffaele, when a boy. The head is small, the neck long, the slight figure is clothed in a tunic tight to the throat, from which it hangs straight and loose, after the Italian fashion of the fifteenth century, and though ill adapted for elegance of drapery, its deep crimson colour and gold embroideries give a certain richness to the meagrely designed costume; on a white ledge under the figure is written in a hand much resembling that of Raffaele, "Raffaele Sanzi d'anni sei nato il di 6 Ap., 1483. Sanzi padre dipinse"; the back of the panel bears these words, also in old characters, "Rittratto del Piccolo Raffaele Sazi [Transcriber's Note: should be 'Sanzi'] d'anni sei nato in Urbino il di sei di Aprile 1483, Sanzi dipinse." A pamphlet addressed by Mr. Dennistoun to the Editor of the Art Union, proving the correctness of the day of Raffaele's birth as stated in the picture, accompanies it	£55	13s.
Bronzino	22	Portrait of Luigo Allemanno [Transcriber's Note: should be Luigi Alamanni], the Florentine poet, in a black dress	£5	5s.
Baroccio	23	Portrait of the last Duke of Urbino, in a black dress, with a gold chain and badge of the Golden Fleece, his hand resting on a book	£6	2s.	6d.
Raffaellino del Colle	24	La Madonna del Garofalo—on copper. A beautiful copy from Raffaele—in frame carved with figures	£13	2s.	6d.
Al. Allori	25	Portrait of Torquato Tasso, in a black and crimson dress, holding a manuscript. Animated and delicate in conception, and carefully treated	£26	5s.
Titian	26	Portrait of Ariosto, in a blue dress. The very rare engraving by Persin accompanies it	£85	1s.
Paris Bordone	27	A Venetian Nobleman	£5	5s.
School of Fiesole	28	The Nativity, with landscape background	£9	10s.
Timoteo della Vite	29	The Magdalen, holding the vase and a book, in a landscape. Purchased from M. Lauriani, librarian of the Vatican	£6
School of Perugino	30	The Epiphany: the Holy Family, seated before a building, the Magi presenting their offerings, their attendants in the background	£29	8s.
M. Albertinelli	31	The Virgin and Child, seated, in a landscape	£7	7s.
Gaudenzio Ferrari	32	The Nativity: The Virgin and St. Joseph kneeling over the Infant, who lies on the ground, three angels in adoration beyond, the angel appearing to the shepherds in the distance	£18	7s.
Cima di Conegliano	33	The Virgin, in a blue dress, her hands clasped, with the Infant seated before her on a window-ledge; a crimson drapery behind. Signed "Joannes Bta. Cone lanensis"	£24	3s.
Correggio	34	The Virgin, kneeling in adoration over the Infant, with architecture in the background—on copper	£3	15s.
Andrea d'Assisi	35	The Virgin and Child, on gold ground—panel—in architectural frame of the period	£5	15s.	6d.
Garofalo	36	The Nativity: The Virgin, St. Joseph, and a Shepherd, kneeling in adoration over the Infant, near a cavern; with beautiful landscape background	£23	2s.
Michele, of Florence	37	The Virgin and Child, with an Angel, surrounded by a border of bone carved with figures—circular	£5	5s.
P. Tibaldi	38	The Annunciation, with a choir of angels above	£8	18s.	6d.
Baroccio	39	Head of an Angel	£9
L. da Vinci	40	The Virgin and Child, holding a pear. Purchased at Urbino, of the Vecciarelli Family	£3	13s.	6d.
Scarsellino di Ferrara	41	Christ in the garden	£3
School of Perugino	42	St. Roch—a small figure	£6	10s.
Paduanino	43	Head of a duchess of Medicis—a fragment	£1	15s.
School of Giotto	44	Saints invoking Christ—two illuminated miniatures	£4	10s.
School of Titian	45	The Virgin and Child, on a grassy bank, gathering flowers	£3	15s.
School of Giotto	46	The Pentecost. A beautiful miniature, on vellum, with rich border	£8	15s.
School of Giotto	47	The Crucifixion, with Saints. A beautiful miniature, on vellum, with rich arabesque border	£4	14s.	6d.
School of Titian	48	Portrait of a Lady of the Medicis Family: Pellegrina, daughter of Bianca Capello, in a richly ornamented dress	£4	14s.	6d.
A. del Sarto	49	The Resurrection. An interesting small work in the Master's first manner. From the de Angelis Gallery, at Sienna	£4	14s.
C. Maratti	50	The Holy Family	£3	3s.
Bronzino	51	The Virgin and Child, with St. Joseph and St. John. A very grand and beautiful design—circular, on panel	[£21	0s.	0d.]
G. da Carpi	52	The Virgin, in a crimson and blue dress, seated, with the Infant in her lap, before a sculptured portico; a green drapery suspended above—circle on panel. The Orsini Arms on the frame	£141	15s.
Luigi Agresti	53	The Last Supper. Very richly coloured, with the engraving	£6
School of Brescia	54	The Virgin and Child, enthroned, with saints and angels in adoration	£4
F. Vanni	55	The repose of the Holy Family—small	£2
Schedone	56	The Virgin and Child	£1	13s.
School of Parma	57	A female saint, holding a salver of fruit—very elegant	£4	4s.
School of Ferrara	58	The Holy Family, with St. Francis and St. Jerome	£9	9s.
Guardi	59	A view on a canal, at Venice, with figures	£11	0s.	6d.
Guardi	60	A view on the grand canal—the companion	£11	0s.	6d.
Scorza, of Genoa	61	A pastoral landscape	£1	6s.
S. Rosa	62	A romantic bay scene, with figures—evening	£4	10s.
Serani	63	St. Cecilia, playing on the viol da gamba	£5	7s.	6d.
Testaferrata	64	A Roman piper	£1	1s.
Antonilez di Serabia	65	St. Raymond of Penaforte. From the Standish Gallery	£3	13s.	6d.
Montelinez di Serabia	66	St. Anthony, seated reading, near a chapel, with mountainous background. From the Standish Gallery	£2	2s.
Zurbaran	67	The Madonna of Mercy—four figures kneeling round her. From the Standish Gallery	[£2	15s.]
Murillo	68	The vision of St. Augustine of Canterbury: the saint is washing the feet of the Saviour, who appears in the likeness of a pilgrim; from his mouth proceed the words "Magne Pater Augustine tibi commendo Ecclesiam meam." This fine gallery picture was purchased from Don Julian Williams, by Mr. Standish, for £600, at Seville, in 1825; it was originally painted for the nuns of San Leandro Order of St. Austen, and sold by them during the troubles caused by the army of Soult, in 1810, to Dr. Manuel Real, from whom it passed to Don J. Williams. The picture is mentioned in the work of Herrera and d'Aviles Guia de Seville, 1832	£199	10s.
Velazquez	69	Portrait of a Cardinal, seated, holding a book, the chair surmounted by shields of arms. Full of dignified character. From Cardinal Fesch's gallery	£4	4s.
School of Cologne	70	La Madonna Addolorata, in a crimson dress, a light-coloured robe. A very dignified figure. A fragment	[£1	10s.]
Wilhelm, of Cologne	71	The Marriage of St. Catherine with St. Agnes. They are in the foreground of a landscape, with buildings in the distance. From M. Wyer, of Cologne	£14	3s.	6d.
Van der Maire	72	St. Catherine, presenting a devotee. An interesting fragment	£5	15s.	6d.
Van Eyck	73	A fine dyptic, with the Annunciation: the Virgin kneeling, the Angel in a rich dress, holding a sceptre:—the portrait of the donor outside. From the Collection of M. Wyer, of Cologne	£39	18s.
Henri Blaes La Civetta	74	A tryptic, with the Virgin and Child in the centre, seated, in a landscape; St. Christopher and St. Anthony on the wings; an owl, the emblem of the Master. From the Collection of M. Wyer, of Cologne	£17	6s.	6d.
Dionysius Calcar	75	The Crucifixion: The Virgin and St. John weeping, with landscape background	£8	8s.
School of Hemmelinck	76	St. Natalitia, seated, holding a book, on which is a hand, cut off; with architectural background. From the same collection	£12	1s.	6d.
Matth. Guinendenwald	77	Portrait of Philip le Bel, in a crimson dress and black hat, wearing the collar of the Golden Fleece	£6.
Van der Goes	78	The Virgin and Child, enthroned; a damask drapery behind; landscape background seen on each side	£22	1s.
Lucas van Leyden	79	A very small female head—a fragment	18s.
Martin Schoen	80	A tryptic: the Crucifixion, with the figures carved in wood, and painted background in the centre; the wings painted with the six stations; carved canopy work over the centre; the descent from the Cross painted on the outside	£12	1s.	6d.
Sustermans	81	Portrait of Galileo	£4	10s.
Sustermans	82	Portrait of a Florentine lady	£2	4s.
Van Dyck	83	The Adoration of the Magi—a sketch in grisaille	£2	8s.
Van Dyck	84	Portrait of the Earl of Strafford, in a black dress. Purchased from the Earl of Mar's collection, in 1805	£5	5s.
Teniers	85	A landscape, with peasants and poultry near a cottage—upright—on copper	£3	7s.	6d.
Camphuyzen	86	A farm, with cattle, and a man milking a cow near a well. Very richly coloured	£6	10s.
Jan Steen	87	Portrait of a Burgomaster	£5	15s.
Poelemberg	88	The Riposo of the Holy Family, under a ruined building	£2	10s.
Wouvermans	89	Travellers, reposing under a sunny bank, near a pool of water	£33	12s.
Van Falens	90	Camp suttlers, with horsemen and numerous figures. From the Collection of Sir James Stuart	£5	10s.
Swaneveldt	91	A study of ruins—on paper	£1	2s.
Watteau	92	A fête champêtre	£1	10s.
Rigaud	93	Portrait of a French lady, holding a row of pearls	£3	10s.
Venetian	94	Portrait of the admirable Crichton, in black dress, seated holding a sword and a book; with long inscription. Dated 1581, with the engraving	£13	2s.	6d.
Roman School	95	Portrait of the Cardinal of York, in his robes. Purchased at his villa, at Frascati	£1	10s.
Sir P. Lely	96	Portrait of the Countess of Southesk, (la belle Hamilton) in a white satin dress, seated, holding a viol da gamba, in a landscape, from the collection of C.R. Sharpe, Esq.	[£7	17s.	6d.]
Sir Joshua Reynolds	97	A very small head of a lady	15s.
Anthony	98	Henselope Burn	14s.
Andrew Wilson	99	The Cascatelle, at Tivoli, with shepherds and goats in the foreground, admirably painted	£33	12s.
J.M.W. Turner, R.A.	100	A farm in the Highlands	£2	8s.
Rev. J. Thompson	101	The Trosacks. A beautiful finished study, given by the artist to Mr. Dennistoun in 1829	£3
J.M.W. Turner, R.A.	102	Fishing boats caught in a squall	£8	15s.
Millais, A.R.A.	103	A cottage barn, in Essex: a sketch of figures on the back	£4	10s.

104	Eleven silver touch-pieces, for the King's Evil, of the Stuarts; and three bronze Papal coins	£5
105	A pair of red silk stockings, worked with gold. Belonged to the last Duke of Urbino	£6
106	A curious ivory die, representing a man seated; and four silver dice, in the form of men and women seated	£1
107	A pair of brass church candlesticks	£1	15s.
108	The Virgin and Child—a relief, in bronze	£1	15s.
109	The Flagellation—a relief, in bronze	£1	15s.
110	A miniature portrait of Queen Mary, mounted in silver, with slab of agate on the back	£4	6s.
111	Raffaele School—Lo Spasimo di Sicilia—a drawing, in Indian ink and pen		6s.
112	A chalice, of silver, and copper gilt, with three busts of Niello work on the base	£3	15s.
113	A female saint, in embroidery		5s.
114	Head of St. Peter, in tapestry. From the Cardinal of York's Villa	£3	6s.
115	The Crucifixion, worked in ancient lace for an altar cloth	£2	2s.
116	A very rare caterpillar's web, of unusual size	[£2]
117	St. Mary, of Egypt, of pietra-dura, on lapis-lazuli ground	£12	10s.
118	A Majolica plate, with St. Jerome, in a landscape: signed by Maestro Giorgio, 1521—imperfect	£3	15s.
119	A fragment of a Majolica plate, with Mercury, with the initials of Maestro Giorgio, 1534		15s.
120	The agony in Gethsemane—a Limosine enamel	£1
121	St. Dietburgha—painted on a caterpillar's web	£1	6s.
122	A half dyptic, with two saints in relief in ivory, and Byzantine inscription	£1	11s.
123	A crucifix, elaborately carved in boxwood, containing a rosary of silver thread	£1
124	A large bronze Papal seal, with the Holy Family, and 8 smaller bronze seals—one of them, Johann Russell	£2	5s.
125	Venus on a dolphin—a Venetian bronze, on oriental alabaster plinth	£3	10s.
126	A bronze inkstand, supported on eagles, and surmounted by a figure	£3	10s.
127	The Entombment—a relief, in bronze	£10	10s.
128	A small ivory dyptic, with the Crucifixion, and the Virgin and Child, with two saints, in high relief, on gothic arches	£10	10s.
129	A very interesting Pax, of Niello work, with Christ bearing his Cross, and appearing to Mary, inscribed above "Jacobus Suannes Cole"; the dead Christ, and emblems of the Crucifixion, in the lunette above	£10	10s.
130	Another Pax, of niello, with the dead Christ and angels, inscribed beneath, "Pax tibi Pilastus," and frieze of arabesque; the Creation above—mounted in ivory	£9
131	A curious bone tryptic, with the Crucifixion, attended by saints; St. Peter and St. Paul on the wings	£8	18s.	6d.
132	A very interesting early Pax, of Niello, with the Virgin and Child enthroned, the latter holding a rosary; two saints kneeling on each side; a die on the ground in the centre	[£2	15s.]

The total amount realised at the sale was £1398 15s. 6d.

---

DURING nearly one hundred and ninety years, five Dukes of Urbino well and ably discharged the duties of their station, comparatively exempt from the personal immoralities of their age. The rugged frontier of their highland fief had, in that time, been extended far into the fertile March of Ancona, until it embraced a compact and influential state. Saving their subjects, by a gentle and judicious sway, from the wild ferments that distracted democratic communities, and from the yet more dire revolutions which from time to time convulsed adjoining principalities, they so cultivated the arts of war, and so encouraged the pursuits of peace, that their mountain-land gained a European reputation as the best nursery of arms, their capital as the favoured asylum of letters. That glory has now become faint; for the writers by whom it has been chiefly transmitted belong not to the existing generation, and command few sympathies in our times. But the echoes of its fame still linger around the mist-clad peaks of Umbria, and in the dilapidated palace-halls of the olden race. To gather its evanescent substance in a form not uninteresting to English readers, is the object of the present attempt. Should it be so far successful as to attract some of his countrymen to the history, literature, and arts of Italy, they will not, perhaps, be ungrateful to the humble pioneer who has indicated a path to literary treasures hitherto inadequately known to them. For such an undertaking he possesses no qualification, beyond a sincere interest in the past ages of that sunny land, and a warm admiration for her arts during their epoch of brilliancy. But a residence there of six years has afforded him considerable opportunities of collecting materials for this work, which he has been anxious not to neglect.

A great portion of the duchy of Urbino, including its principal towns, has been thrice visited, and nearly every accessible library of Central Italy has been examined for unedited matter. To these researches, time and labour have been freely given; and in the few instances when his attempts were foiled by jealousy or accident, the author has generally had the satisfaction of believing that success would have been comparatively unproductive. To this, two exceptions should be mentioned. He was prevented by illness from recently visiting the libraries or archives at Venice; and the Barberini Library at Rome has been entirely closed for some years, in consequence of a disgraceful pillage of its treasures. Should the latter be again made accessible, the MSS. amassed by the Pontiff under whom Urbino devolved to the Church, and by his nephews, its two first Legates, can hardly fail to throw much light upon the duchy. The invaluable treasures of the Vatican archives have been to him, as to others, a sealed book; but the Urbino MSS. in the Vatican Library, those of the Oliveriana at Pesaro, and of the Magliabechiana at Florence, have afforded copious sources of original information, and have supplied means for rectifying omissions and errors of previous writers. Some of these materials had been freely drawn upon by Muzio, Leoni, and Baldi, biographers of the early dukes of Urbino, who have not, however, by any means exhausted the soil; the amount that remained for after inquirers may be estimated from the single instance of Sanzi's almost unnoticed rhyming Chronicle of Duke Federigo, in about 26,000 lines.

The reigns of Dukes Federigo, Guidobaldo I., and Francesco Maria I., from 1443 to 1538, formed the brightest era of Urbino, and included the most stirring period of Italian history, the golden age of Italian art; but our regnal series would be incomplete without Dukes Guidobaldo II. and Francesco Maria II., who prolonged the independence of the duchy until 1631, when it lapsed to the Holy See. Its history thus naturally divides itself into five books, representing as many reigns; yet, as these sovereigns were of two different dynasties, it will be convenient to consider separately the origin of each, and the influence which they respectively exercised on literature and the fine arts, thus giving matter for four additional books. In Book First of these we shall briefly sketch the early condition of the duchy, with the establishment of the family of Montefeltro as Counts, and eventually as Dukes, of Urbino; but, regarding Duke Federigo as the earliest of them worthy of detailed illustration, we shall, in Book Second, with his succession, enter upon the immediate scope of our work.

---

Among many interesting publications upon Italy which have recently issued from the English press, is that of Signor Mariotti.[3] With a command of our language rarely attained by foreigners, he has clothed a vast mass of information in an exuberant style, savouring of the sweet South. As an episode to his sketch of Tasso, he dedicates to the two dynasties who ruled in Urbino a single page, in which there occur seven misstatements. John or Giovanni della Rovere was never sovereign of Camerino; his cousin, Girolamo Riario, held no ecclesiastical dignity; the "unrivalled splendour" of the Montefeltrian reign at Urbino did not extend over even one century; the wife of Giovanni della Rovere was neither daughter nor heiress of Guidobaldo I. of Urbino, nor had she any "just claim to his throne"; Duke Francesco Maria did not remove either his library or treasures of art to Mantua. These slips, by a writer generally painstaking and correct, surely indicate some deficiency in the accessible sources of information regarding a principality which has for centuries been proverbial, in the words of Tasso, as "the stay and refuge of gifted men."

The truth is, that although the Dukes of Urbino figure everywhere as friends of learning and patrons of art, no work has yet appeared establishing their especial claim to such distinction, in a land where courts abounded and dilettanteship was a fashion. That of Riposati has indeed given us the series of these sovereigns, but his biographical sketches are meagre, and chiefly illustrative of their coinage. The lives of Dukes Federigo and Francesco Maria I., by Muzio and Leoni, are excessively rare; Baldi's crude biographies are either recently and obscurely published, or remain in manuscript. Out of Italy these authors are scarcely known. This paucity of illustration is not, however, the only cause why these princes have continued in unmerited obscurity. Whilst endeavouring to guard himself against undue hero-worship, and to subject the policy and character of those sovereigns to the tests within his reach, the author has been obliged in some instances to assume the functions of an advocate, and to defend them from charges unjustly or inadvisedly brought. This will be especially found in the life of Duke Francesco Maria I., who, as the victim of Leo X., and the opponent of Florence, has met with scanty justice from the three standard historians of that age in Italy, France, and England. The patriotism of Guicciardini, as a Florentine, was inherently provincial; as a partisan of the Medici, he had no sympathies with a prince whom they hated with the loathing of ingratitude; as an annalist he never forgot the day when he had cowered before the lofty spirit at the council-board. All that he has written of Francesco Maria is therefore tinged with gall, and his authority has been too implicitly followed by Sismondi, who, uniformly biassed against princes by his democratic prejudices, and seeing in Guicciardini an eminent denizen of a nominal republic, and in the Duke a petty autocrat, decided their respective merits accordingly. Again, Roscoe could save the consistency and justice of Leo only by misrepresenting the character of his early friend and eventual victim, and has not shrunk from the sacrifice. It has thus happened that, whilst ordinary readers have scanty access to details regarding Urbino and its dynasties, these names have been unduly excluded from many a page in Italian annals which they were well qualified to adorn.[4]

To separate from the tangled web of Italian story threads of local and individual interest would be fatal to unity of texture and subject. It will, therefore, be necessary to treat Urbino and its Dukes as integral portions of the Ausonian community, and, while distinguishing every characteristic detail, to view them as subsidiary to the general current of events. But, since this course offers at every moment temptations to launch our tiny bark on a stream perilous to its pilot, prudence will keep us mostly among those eddies which, unheeded by more skilful mariners, may afford leisure for minute observation. If it be thought that the martial renown of Federigo and Francesco Maria I. merited more ample accounts of their campaigns, we may plead that arms are but a portion of our object. To mankind battle-fields are instructive chiefly from their results; while foreign and domestic policy, the progress of civilisation and manners, of letters and art, are in every respect themes of profitable inquiry.

In a work undertaken with the hope of attracting general readers to the history and arts of Italy, controversial disquisitions would be misplaced. The student may detect occasional attempts to reconcile contradictory narratives and jarring conclusions; but religious discussion is excluded from these pages. The author is a Protestant by birth and by conviction, but it has been his endeavour to judge with candour, and speak with respect, of a Church which is the "parent of our religion," and which, during a great portion of his narrative, was catholic in the strict sense of that often misapplied term. He has mentioned without flattery, extenuation, or malice, such private virtues and vices of the various pontiffs as fell within the scope of his inquiry, leaving it to others to fix the delicate line which is supposed to divide personal errors from papal infallibility.

---

A considerable portion of these volumes was written in Italy, before the close of Pope Gregory's reign, and under impressions formed upon the existing state of the country. It has been their author's good fortune to know much of that attractive land during the last twenty years of the long peace, and to admire her substantial prosperity and steady progress. Between 1825 and 1846 he has seen in her cities new streets and squares rising, thoroughfares opened, gas-lights generally introduced, ruinous houses substantially rebuilt, crumbling churches and palaces renovated, shops enlarged and beautified, cafés, hotels, and baths multiplied and decorated, public drives and gardens created, equipages rivalling those of northern capitals, museums formed, galleries enriched, the dress and comforts of the population greatly improved, the street nuisances of Rome removed, the lazzaroni of Naples clothed.

In the rural districts he has observed cultivation spreading, waste lands reclaimed, irrigation and drainage carried on, the great highways rendered excellent, whole provinces opened up by new roads, railways rapidly extending, rivers and torrents bridged, palatial villas springing up round the towns and watering-places, banditti suppressed, the peasantry ameliorated in aspect. He has learnt, from crowded ports and spreading factories, that capital was increasing and industry being developed.

He has also noticed that, without organic changes, the political condition of the people was being modified; that Tuscany enjoyed the mildest of paternal governments; that in Lombardy, Piedmont, and Naples, many repressive statutes were in abeyance; that in Turin and Florence restraints upon the press were tacitly being relaxed; that scientific congresses were generally permitted, and political economy freely discussed; whilst, in regard to Rome, he ascertained the practical truth of a popular sarcasm, that prohibitory laws were usually binding but for three days.

While conscious of all this progress, the author felt that much remained to be done. He knew that the advance of the country was only comparative, and rendered more apparent by her long previous stagnation. He daily had before him solecisms in policy, errors of administration, official indolence or corruption; above all, ample proofs that priests were no longer adapted for ministers of state. He believed that intellect was needlessly or unwisely shackled, and that, to ardent or speculative minds, the full blaze of knowledge might be less deceptive than a compulsory twilight.

But, on the other hand, he was deeply convinced that, in material welfare, the Italian people were already far above the average; that any sudden change was more likely to endanger than to augment it; that, to a nation so listless yet so impressionable, so credulous but so suspicious, self-government was a questionable boon; at all events, that the mass of its present generation was infinitely too ignorant and unpractised, possibly too conceited and self-seeking, to comprehend the theory of a constitution, or to perform the duties it would necessarily impose. He knew further, that those who vaguely longed for change were usually blind to the benefits which their country already enjoyed, and had no definite or plausible plan for the removal of its grievances without perilling its advantages. He felt satisfied that, should an occasion ever present itself for testing their Utopian theories, native leaders, united in aims and worthy of their reliance, would be wanting. The movement party in Italy then scarcely numbered a man who had a considerable property to stake, a social position to lend him influence, or tried business habits to gain the confidence of his fellow-citizens. Those who stood prepared to pilot the vessel through revolutionary storms were, for the most part, persons whose detected intrigues, or rash outbreaks, had already driven them, with little credit, into exile, where, cut off from intercourse with home, and associating chiefly with kindred spirits expelled from other lands, they forgot much which it was important to keep in view, and learned little of that candour and moderation which are the true leaven of politics. Neglecting there those practical reforms of which Italy stood really in need, they devoted themselves to one idea. They set up the phantom of political unity as a new faith; they decreed that its worship should be the condition of their country's resurrection, and that all who demurred to it should be hunted down. Had they read Dante, or remembered what they hourly had seen, heard, and said in their native land, they would have known that their idol, like the image in Nebuchadnezzar's dream,[5] was of incongruous and incompatible materials; that their unitarian scheme was antipathic to every passion and prejudice of those upon whom they would thrust it.

---

Under such impressions were written the very few allusions to the actual state of Italy which this work contains. The aspirations of her regenerators after nationality and constitutional freedom have since been fostered by her spiritual ruler, and prematurely fired by an explosion of French democracy. Subsequent events, under altered circumstances, may accordingly seem to have invalidated opinions therein expressed; but the end is not yet. The present continues overshadowed by gloom, and the torch of hope glimmers but dimly in the distance. A sincere interest in the country and its people dictates our prayer that the God of nations may grant an issue realising the fondest anticipations of genuine patriotism, and eventually crown these struggles with results compensating their recent evils.

Yet when we recollect the condition of Italy as we left her shores four short years ago,—when we contrast the calm then around her institutions, the stillness of her every-day life, the careless ease of her nobles, the physical enjoyment of her middle classes, the simple well-being of the peasantry under their own vines and fig-trees,—we must sigh to see so much positive happiness perilled for contingent ameliorations which, if ever attained, may, like most political experiments, fail to realise the promised benefits.

"Let him who sees mad war like deluge sweep Surrounding regions, learn his peace to prize; Let the poor bark with sides unripped, which tries In vain by helm and sail its course to keep, Make for the port. He lives perchance to weep, Who quits the genial air and smiling skies For depths unknown. O blind desire unwise Of mortals, spurning thus on earth to creep! O when, in this his mouldering garment frail, Did man, whose thread soon breaks and joins no more, Clear his own path, or by his power prevail?"[6]

In a work of history, party politics ought to have no place; and when the nations are moved there is little inducement to assume a prophet's mantle. We, therefore, gladly leave a topic on which perhaps too much has been said. Possibly some Italians, to whom we have formerly represented that it were

"Better to bear the ills we know, Than rush on others that we wot not of,"

may yet admit the truth of this suggestion. May they never personally realise the adage, that those who originate revolutions reap all their evils, without living to share their fruits!

---

A few words regarding the method adopted in these volumes. Of the names most conspicuous in Italian literature and art, a considerable proportion will there find a place; but readers who expect to see their productions enumerated, and their merits submitted to exhaustive criticism, will be disappointed. All that our limits permit, after rapidly sketching the revival of knowledge and the progress of that sacred painting which emanated from Umbria, is to mention those who have contributed to shed lustre over the duchy of Urbino, or who shared the patronage of its princes. The amount of notice allotted to each is therefore proportioned rather to its local importance than its absolute excellence; but, satisfied from experience how seldom a wide-spread interest attaches to individual details, our aim has ever been to generalise even those points demanding a more specific notice in connection with our immediate subject.

As the recurrence of foot-notes in a popular narrative unpleasantly distracts the reader from its continuous course, these have been avoided, unless when especially called for; and the necessity for them in citing references has been in a great degree anticipated, by prefixing a list of the leading authorities consulted, which it is hoped will generally bear out views that have been honestly formed, after examining what seemed the best sources of information. Extracts have been introduced, where it appeared desirable to preserve the style or words of an author; but they are in most cases rendered (literally rather than with elegance) into English, except such specimens of poetry as could not be fairly estimated from a translation. Documents and episodical details, which would have encumbered the text, are appended to the respective volumes.[7]

The majority of proper names being Italian, are written in that language, excepting such as, like those of places, and titles of popes and sovereigns, have long been familiar to English ears in a different orthography. In such matters uniformity of practice is the main object to be attended to, and having to choose between names as they were actually used and their English synonyms, we have preferred Giacomo Piccinino, Giulio Romano, and Lorenzo de' Medici, to James the Little Fellow, Julius the Roman, and Lawrence of the Medici.[8] There will often be mentioned districts and divisions of Italy which are defined by no exact political or geographical limits; it may therefore be well here to explain in what sense these somewhat convertible terms are employed. Central Italy may be considered to contain the papal territory and the three Tuscan duchies; Upper and Lower Italy include all the Peninsula, respectively to the north and the south of these states. Again, Lombardy is used as a generic term for the whole basin of the Po, the Polesine being that portion of its delta, north of the river, which belonged to the Dukes of Ferrara. Romagna stretches from the Po to the Metauro, from the Apennines to the Adriatic; La Marca, or the March of Ancona, continues the same sea-board to the Tronto: these two districts were long the cradle of Italian prowess, the allotment-land of petty princes; both were partially comprehended within the more ancient landmarks of Umbria, a mountain province lying east of the Tiber. The lower basin of this classic stream contained Sabina on the east, and the Patrimony of St. Peter on the west; the Comarca lying south of the Teverone stream, and the whole wide plain around Rome being called the Campagna. Tuscany, including the Sienese, ran northwards from the Patrimony, beginning below Orbetello; and Naples is familiarly called by Italians The Kingdom, having, until a recent date, been the only royal state in their fatherland.

Our chronology also requires the use of certain conventional terms, which ought to be defined. Assuming the close of the fifteenth century as the zenith of Italy's glory in letters and arts, in politics and arms, the only word specifically indicating that period is cinque-cento; but seeing that its lustre was attained under military and civil institutions, and was rendered permanent by studies and artistic creations, derived from the middle ages and breathing their spirit, the phrase mediæval is extended to include that period.

---

Few things are more baffling to students of history than the true worth of money in different states and ages, and its relative value in reference to our own standards. It is impossible to over-estimate the convenience which tables, showing the fluctuations of currency and prices among different nations, would afford; but the difficulties of completing them may perhaps be insuperable. In order to supply this desideratum, however imperfectly, a few observations are here submitted.

In considering the value of money at different periods, a variety of circumstances must be kept in view. There are, however, four elements to be embraced by all calculations for such a purpose: (1) the comparative weight of the coinage; (2) the respective amounts of alloy introduced into the standard of precious metals; (3) the effect produced on gold and silver value by the discovery of America; (4) the fluctuations in prices of commodities. The last of these elements includes and depends upon the others, so that a tariff of prices at various times might be practically sufficient for the object contemplated. The impediments, however, to obtaining such a tariff are apparently insurmountable. Statistical facts, incidentally mentioned by historians, or gleaned from original documents, must be received with large allowance. Articles of costly luxury in one age became abundant in another, and are at all times affected by local or temporary causes. Quality was also variable; horses, oxen, sheep, and poultry, reared or fed in rude times or uncultivated districts, cannot fairly be compared with those perfected by care and expense; the same may be said of wines, fruits, clothing; even land is saleable according to its condition, fertility, or situation. The test usually resorted to in such inquiries is corn; but weights and measures, seldom uniform, are with difficulty ascertained at remote periods, while exceptional prices are more frequently noted than average ones, by observers prone to record striking events rather than every-day facts. There are, however, some apparently admitted data not altogether unavailable for our immediate purpose.

During the period embraced by our memoirs of Urbino, the standard of value prevalent in most parts of Italy was the golden florin or ducat. Of these probably equivalent terms, the former was generally employed in Central Italy, the latter in Lombardy. According to Villani, the florin of Florence, in 1340, weighed 72 grains of pure gold, 24 carats fine. Sismondi, in referring to a period about a century later, estimates its weight at ⅛ of an ounce, or 60 grains. Orsini reckons it, in 1533, at 70 grains, 22 carats fine. On the whole, it appears, from Cibrario and other authorities, that this coin, and its successor the zecchino, have maintained an almost uniform weight down to the present time. Assuming that gold in Italy had then the same coinage-value as in England, it appears from calculations, founded upon Fleetwood's data, that the florin was, at these various periods, equivalent in contemporary English coin to 3s. 6d., 4s. 8d., and 5s. 10d. Again, the ducat of Venice is estimated by Daru at 4 franks in 1465, at 4⅓ in 1490, and by Sanuto at 4s. English in 1500. Riposati, in a careful analysis of the coinage of Gubbio, proves that the conventional Urbino florin of 1450 should have contained 63434/59 grains of silver, besides alloy, which would at that time have yielded 3s. 9d. English, or at our present pure silver value (5s. 6d. to the ounce) 7s. 3¼d.

It would follow, from these several opinions, that the florin or ducat of Italy, in the fifteenth century, was equal to from 3s. 6d. to 4s. 6d. in contemporary English circulation, which disposes of two elements for our calculation. The remaining two must have been inadequately kept in view by Cibrario, Ricotta, and Audin, who respectively value the florin of 1400 as now worth 16⅔ francs, that of 1490 at 14 francs, and that of 1500 at 12 francs; while in the Library of Entertaining Knowledge it is set down at 10s. English in 1480. But if we assume the analogy of English prices as collected by Fleetwood, the result will be very different. From these it appears that an average cost of wheat and oats per quarter, in the fifteenth century, was about 5s. 2d. and 2s. 6d., while the wages of labourers and artisans were respectively 3½d. and 4½d. a day. Accordingly, if corn be taken as the test, money was then ten times beyond its modern value; while, if we include labour and luxuries, the actual depreciation must appear much greater. We are greatly encouraged to find such an inference not very different from that adopted by three recent and important authorities. Prescott values the Spanish ducat of 1490 at 39s. 4d., and Macaulay states that of Florence in 1340 at 40s. sterling, while Sismondi calculates it at about 48 francs. On the whole, then, we venture to assume that the Italian ducat or florin of the fifteenth century was nearly equal to the present Spanish dollar, and that it would have purchased about twelve times the amount of necessaries and luxuries which that coin now represents in England—a discrepancy of course lessened in the next and each succeeding age, especially as the precious metals continued to flow in from the new hemisphere. This estimate is, however, offered with great deference, and only as a general approximation to the truth, by no means applicable to numerous exceptional cases.[9]

---

In closing these preliminary observations, it is a pleasing duty to acknowledge the facilities obligingly placed at the author's disposal by kind friends in Italy and at home. The urbanity with which Monsignore Laureani afforded every assistance compatible with the stringent regulations of the Vatican Library, demands a tribute tempered by regret that death should have prematurely removed him from a trust which he usefully and gracefully discharged. To Don Pietro Raffaele, of the Oliveriana Library at Pesaro, and to the Abbé Francesco Raffaele Valenti, of the Albani Library at Urbino; to Signor Luigi Bonfatti, of Gubbio; to the archivists of many towns, and to the directors of not a few galleries in Italy, a large debt of gratitude has been incurred. The intimate acquaintance with the treasures of Italian art possessed by the Commendatore Kestner, minister from the Court of Hanover at the Holy See, was, with his wonted kindness and courtesy, freely rendered available. Mr. Rawdon Brown, whose profound knowledge of Venetian history and antiquities will, it is hoped, be ere long appreciated in England, as it already is in the Lagoons, has communicated most important documents, which the author was unable personally to inspect. Mr. F.C. Brooke, of Ufford Place, Suffolk, has likewise supplied some valuable notices. The embellishments of these volumes owe much to the friendly assistance of Mr. Lewis Gruner, an artist whose generous character and happy exemption from professional jealousies are not less remarkable than the success of his burin and the excellence of his taste. With a liberality unusual among English collectors, Dr. Wellesley, Principal of New College Hall, Oxford, threw open his stores of Italian historic art, and allowed the use of several rare medallions. To these, and to many whose good wishes have cheered him on, the author's thanks are thus heartily, though inadequately, offered.

---

	PAGE
Introduction	vii
Memoir of the Author	xiii
Catalogue of the Picture Sale of the Author	xix
Author’s Preface	xxix
List of Illustrations of Volume I.	xlix
Chronological Table of Contents of Volume I.	li

CHAPTER I
Topography of the Duchy of Urbino—Origin of the Italian communities—Their civil institutions and military system—Their principle of liberty—Political divisions of Romagna; opposed to modern speculations regarding centralization	3
CHAPTER II
Origin of the Counts of Montefeltro, and of their sovereignty in Urbino and the surrounding country—Their early genealogy—Guido Count of Urbino—Antonio Count of Urbino	22
CHAPTER III
Guidantonio Count of Urbino—The Ubaldini—Oddantonio Count of Urbino—Is made Duke—His dissolute habits and speedy assassination	42

CHAPTER IV
The birth of Count Federigo—Condition of Italy—His marriage and early military service—The Malatesta his inveterate foes—He takes S. Leo—Is invested with Mercatello	61
CHAPTER V
Count Federigo succeeds to Urbino and acquires Fossombrone—His connection with the Sforza family, whereby he incurs excommunication—His campaign in the Maremma—Loses his eye in a tournament	85
CHAPTER VI
Count Federigo enters the Neapolitan service—His two campaigns in Tuscany—Fall of Constantinople—Peace of Lodi—Nicholas V.—The Count's fruitless attempt at reconciliation with Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta, followed by new feuds with him—Death of his Countess Gentile	102
CHAPTER VII
Count Federigo's domestic life—His second marriage—New war for the Angevine succession to Naples—Battle of San Fabbiano—Conclusion of the war—Humiliation of the Malatesta	120
CHAPTER VIII
Count Federigo's home administration and court—Description of his palace and library at Urbino—His other palaces—The resources of his state	147
CHAPTER IX
Count Federigo's varied engagements—Battle of La Molinella—Death and character of his enemy Malatesta—Affairs of Rimini	177
CHAPTER X
Birth of Prince Guidobaldo—Count Federigo captures Volterra—Is again widowed—Receives the Garter and the Ermine—Is made Duke of Urbino—His patronage of learned men	207
CHAPTER XI
The Duke of Milan assassinated—Count Girolamo Riario—The Pazzi conspiracy—Duke Federigo's campaigns in Tuscany—Progress of the Turks	233
CHAPTER XII
The war of Ferrara, and the death of Duke Federigo—His character and portraits	258

CHAPTER XIII
The early promise of Duke Guidobaldo I.—Count Girolamo Riario assassinated—The Duke's marriage—Comparative quiet of Italy	295
CHAPTER XIV
State of the papacy at the election of Alexander VI.—His election, character, and children—The aspect of Italy at the close of her golden age—The disputed succession of Naples reopened—Character and views of Charles VIII.—Proposed league to oppose him frustrated—State of the Roman Campagna—The old and new military systems in Italy	315
CHAPTER XV
Italy ill prepared for the French invasion—Duke Guidobaldo sent against the Orsini—Lucrezia Borgia's second marriage—Descent of Charles VIII.—He reaches Naples and retreats—Battle of the Taro—The Duke engaged in the Pisan war—Is taken prisoner by the Orsini and ransomed	341
CHAPTER XVI
The crimes and ambition of the Borgia—Murder of the Duke of Gandia—Duke Guidobaldo's expeditions against Perugia and Tuscany—He adopts Francesco Maria della Rovere as his heir—Louis XII. succeeds to Charles VIII., and to his views upon Italy—Cesare Borgia created Duke Valentino—Duke Guidobaldo at Venice	363
CHAPTER XVII
The condition of Romagna—Cesare Borgia overruns and seizes upon it—The spirit of his government—Naples invaded by Louis, and handed over to Spain—Lucrezia Borgia's fourth marriage	379
CHAPTER XVIII
Duke Guidobaldo's retired life—Cesare Borgia surprises and seizes Urbino—The Duke's flight—The diet of La Magione—Rising in the Duchy, and his return—He again retires	399

I.	Poetry of the family of Montefeltro	427
II.	Inventory of articles taken by Brigida Sueva di Montefeltro, alias Sister Serafina, into the Convent of Corpus Domini	433
III.	Poetry of Ottaviano degli Ubaldini	436
IV.	Instrument containing the concessions demanded by the citizens and acceded to by Count Federigo, on being chosen as their Seigneur	438
V.	Devices and mottoes of the Dukes of Urbino	443
VI.	The illuminated MSS. in the Urbino Library	446
VII.	Duke Federigo of Urbino a Knight of the Garter	450
VIII.	The army of Charles VIII., in 1493	460
IX.	The battle of the Taro, in 1495	463
X.	The arrival of Duke Valentino at the French Court	468
XI.	Ludovico Sforza's entry into Lyons, in 1500	470
XII.	Sonnet to Italy by Marcello Filosseno	472
XIII.	Marriage festivities of Lucrezia Borgia at Ferrara, in 1502	473
	Genealogical Tables	At end of book

---

James Dennistoun of Dennistoun. From a medallion in the possession of his nephew James W. Dennistoun of Dennistoun	Frontispiece
	TO FACE PAGE
View of Urbino. (Photo Alinari)	22
The Battle of S. Egidio. After the picture by Paolo Uccello in the National Gallery. Portraits of Carlo Malatesta and his nephew Galeotto "il Beato"	44
Leonello d'Este. After the picture by Pisanello in the Morelli Gallery, Bergamo. (Photo Alinari)	54
Nicolò Piccinino. From a bronze medal by Pisanello. By the courtesy of G.F. Hill, Esq.	70
Vittorino da Feltre. From a medal by Pisanello in the British Museum. By the courtesy of G.F. Hill, Esq.	70
San Leo and Maiuolo. From a drawing by Agostino Nini	78
Federigo of Urbino. From the XV. Century relief in the Bargello, Florence. (Photo Alinari)	86
Francesco Sforza. From the XV. Century relief in the Bargello, Florence. (Photo Alinari)	98
Federigo, Duke of Urbino, and Battista, his wife. From the picture by Piero della Francesca in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence. (Photo Alinari)	120
Allegory. After the picture by Piero della Francesca in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence. (Photo Alinari)	122
Allegory. After the picture by Piero della Francesca in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence. (Photo Alinari)	124
Sigismondo Malatesta. Detail from the fresco by Piero della Francesca in the Tempio Malatestiano in Rimini. (Photo Alinari)	132
Urbino. From an original drawing by Agostino Nini of Bologna	148
The Flagellation. After the picture by Piero della Francesca in the Sacristy of the Duomo, Urbino. Supposed portraits of Duke Federigo and Caterino Zeno. (Photo Alinari)	152
Fifteenth-century Court of the Palazzo Ducale, Urbino. (Photo Alinari)	162
Pio II. at Ancona. After the fresco by Pinturicchio in the Cathedral Library, Siena. (Photo Brogi)	178
Portrait of Leon Battista Alberti. From the relief by Pisanello in the Dreyfus Collection	194
Pope Sixtus IV. From a miniature prefixed to the dedication copy of Platina's Lives of the Popes in the Vatican Library	202
Battista Sforza, Duchess of Urbino, second wife of Duke Federigo. From the bust by Francesco Laurana in the Bargello, Florence. (Photo Alinari)	214
Federigo of Urbino and his Family. Detail from the picture by Justus of Ghent, in the Palazzo Ducale, Urbino. (From the Ducal Collection.) (Photo Alinari)	216
Lorenzo de' Medici. From the fresco by Ghirlandaio in S. Trinità, Florence. (Photo Alinari)	238
Giuliano de' Medici. (Photo Alinari)	240
The Birth of Venus. Supposed portrait of Simonetta Cattaneo—mistress of Giuliano de' Medici. Detail from the picture by Sandro Botticelli in the Uffizi Gallery, Florence. (Photo Alinari)	242
Astorgio III. de' Manfredi. From the picture by Scaletti in the Pinacoteca of Faenza	258
Federigo di Montefeltro. After the picture by Justus of Ghent, once in the Ducal Collection at Urbino, now in the Palazzo Barberini in Rome. (Photo Anderson)	266
The Contessa Palma of Urbino. After the portrait by Piero della Francesca in the National Gallery	280
Guidobaldo I. From a picture in the Colonna Gallery in Rome	296
Caterina Sforza. After the picture by Marco Palmezzani in the Pinacoteca of Forlì. (Photo Alinari)	306
Isabella of Aragon. After the drawing by Beltraffio in the Biblioteca Ambrogiana, Milan. (Photo Anderson)	310
Pope Alexander VI. Detail from a fresco by Pinturicchio in the Borgia apartments of the Vatican, Rome	320
"Diva Julia." From a bronze medal ca. 1482 by L'Antico in the British Museum. By the courtesy of G.F. Hill, Esq.	330
Cesare Borgia. From a medal ca. 1500 in the British Museum. By the courtesy of G.F. Hill, Esq.	330
Julius II as Cardinal. From a medal in the British Museum. By the courtesy of G.F. Hill, Esq.	330
St. Catherine of Alexandria. Supposed portrait of Lucrezia Borgia by Pinturicchio. Detail from a fresco in the Borgia apartments of the Vatican, Rome. (Photo Anderson)	344
Bianca, daughter of Ludovico Sforza. After the picture by Ambrogio de' Predis in the Biblioteca Ambrogiana, Milan. (Photo Anderson)	352
Cesare Borgia as the Emperor. Detail from the fresco of the Disputa of S. Catherine in the Borgia apartments of the Vatican. (Photo Anderson)	364

---

A.D.			PAGE
		The duchy of Urbino, how composed	3
		Its characteristic features, and traditional topography	4
		Origin of Italian communities	4
		Rise of the Guelph and Ghibelline factions	5
		Counts of the empire	6
		Republics established in Italy	7
		Opinions regarding their spirit	8
		The seigneurs attain to sovereignty	10
		Practical distinction of Guelph and Ghibelline	11
		Early military system	12
		Origin and influence of free companies	14
		The term Republic misapplied	15
		Their principle of liberty examined	16
		Political divisions of Romagna and La Marca in the fifteenth century	18
		Opposed to modern speculations and the aims of Young Italy	19
		Mariotti's admissions regarding freedom	20

		Examples of these ideas in the dynasties of Urbino	22
1160.		The early Counts of Montefeltro are invested with Urbino	22
1371.		Invited to Cagli	22
1384.		Received at Gubbio	22
1433.		Acquired Casteldurante	23
1445.		Purchased Fossombrone	23
1474.		Sinigaglia given to the della Rovere	23
1513.		They obtained Pesaro and Gradara	23
		Statistics of the state so composed	23
1160-1631.		Its dynastic changes	24
		Early genealogy of the Montefeltri	24
1160-1815.		The Counts of Carpegna	25
1154.		Antonio, first Count of Montefeltro	25
1216.		Buonconte, first Count of Urbino	25
1268.		Count Guido the Elder, his prowess	26
1282.		Takes Forlì by stratagem	27
1289.		Excommunicated as a Ghibelline	27
1296.		Abdicates and becomes a friar	28
1294.		Abdication of Celestine V.	28
”		Succeeded by Boniface VIII.	28
1296.		His feuds with the Colonna	29
”		He recalls Count Guido to the world	30
”		Dante's confession of the Count	30
”		How far consistent with fact	32
”		The Count's piety attested by Boniface	33
1298.	Sept. 27.	His death at Assisi	34
1300.		The struggles of his successors	35
1377.		Antonio Count of Urbino	36
1384.		Extends his sway over Gubbio, Cagli, and Cantiano	37
1390.		His mild government and literary tastes	37
1404.	May 9.	His death announced to the authorities of Siena by his son	38
”		His children	39
”		His daughter Battista, wife of Galeazzo Malatesta, Lord of Pesaro	39
”		Her literary acquirements	40
”		Battista takes the veil	40
”		Misfortunes of her daughter Elisabetta	41

1404.		Guidantonio Count of Urbino	42
1408.		Made Lord of Assisi	42
1413.		And Vice-general of Romagna	43
”		Braccio di Montone	43
1417.	Nov. 11.	Election of Pope Martin V.	44
1418.	Dec.	Count Guidantonio made Duke of Spoleto	44
1420.		Braccio reconciled to the Pope	45
1424.	March 4.	The Count marries Caterina Colonna	45
”		His disputes with the Brancaleoni	45
1430.	Sept. 3.	Made Captain-general of Florence	46
1431.	March 3.	Election of Pope Eugenius IV.	46
1438.	Oct. 9.	Death of Countess Caterina	47
1442.	Feb. 20.	Death of Count Guidantonio	47
”		His children	47
”		His daughter Brigida Sueva's singular history	48
”		His natural children	49
”		Origin of the Ubaldini della Carda	49
”		Notice of Ottaviano Ubaldino	50
1424.		Birth of Count Oddantonio of Urbino	51
1443.	April 26.	Made Duke of Urbino	51
”		His vicious career	52
1444.	July 22.	His assassination	53
”		His intended marriage	55
1439-1443.		Two original letters from him to the magistrates of Siena	56
		The dukedom lapsed on his death	58

		Federigo Count of Urbino	61
1422.	June 7.	The mystery and misstatements regarding his birth	61
1424.	Dec. 22.	Set at rest by his legitimation	62
”		The Brancaleoni of Mercatello	63
1430.		Their heiress Gentile betrothed to Count Federigo	64
”		The state of Italy at this time	64
”		Rome and the Papacy	65
”		Florence and Central Italy	66
”		Lombardy and Venice	67
1433.		Federigo sent to Venice as a hostage	68
1434.		Made a companion of the Hose	68
”		Becomes a pupil of Vittorino da Feltre at Mantua	69
”		Character and system of Vittorino	70
1433.		Federigo knighted by the Emperor	71
1437.	Dec. 2.	His marriage	72
”		Nicolò Piccinino successor of Braccio di Montone	72
1438.		Federigo serves under him in Lombardy	74
1439.		Next, under his brother-in-law Guidaccio Manfredi, Lord of Faenza	74
”		A midnight alarm	74
”		The Malatesta hereditary rivals of the Montefeltri	75
”		Sigismondo Pandolfo Lord of Rimini opposed by Federigo	75
1440.	June 29.	The battle of Anghiari	77
1442.		Federigo recovers Montelocco	77
1441.		Description of S. Leo	78
”		Federigo takes it	80
”		Position of Francesco Sforza	80
”		Pedigree of the Sforza family	80
1443.		Federigo after his father's death rejoins Piccinino	81
”		Visits Naples with him	81
”	Nov. 8.	Sforza defeats Piccinino at Monteluro	82
”		Sanzi's description of that battle	82
”		Federigo invested with Mercatello	83
1444.		He protects Galeazzo Malatesta's seigneury of Pesaro	83
1445.	Feb. 21.	Is challenged by Sigismondo Malatesta of Rimini	83

1444.	July 22.	Federigo accepted as successor of Duke Oddantonio in Urbino	85
”		Conditions imposed by the people	86
”		The state of Central Italy	87
”		Contemporary sketch of Federigo	88
”		Spite of Sigismondo Pandolfo	89
”		Sale of Pesaro and Fossombrone	90
1445.	March 16.	Marriage of Alessandro Sforza, who becomes Lord of Pesaro	91
”		Mistakes of Sismondi	91
”		Francesco Sforza's breach with Filippo Maria Visconti and Sigismondo Malatesta	91
”	June 22.	He is supported by Federigo, and visits Urbino	92
1446.		His position at La Marca, which he loses	92
”	April.	Federigo excommunicated by Eugenius for adhering to Sforza	93
”		The fortune of war changes	93
1447.		Sforza is reconciled with the Duke of Milan	94
”	Sept. 3.	Sigismondo attacks Fossombrone	95
”	Feb. 23.	Death and character of Eugenius IV.	95
”		Death of the Duke of Milan	96
1450.		Succeeded by Francesco Sforza	97
1447.		Designs of Alfonso of Naples upon Tuscany	97
1448.	March.	Opposed by Federigo for the Florentines	98
”		Sigismondo tricks Alfonso, and attacks Fossombrone	98
”	Sept.	Alfonso and Federigo return home	99
1449.		Sigismondo attempts to dupe Federigo, but is foiled	99
1450.		Federigo made Captain-general by the Duke of Milan	100
”	June 29.	Peace between Naples and Florence	100
”		Loses his eye in a tournament	101

1450.		The peace of Italy threatened by new combinations	102
”		Federigo quits the service of Milan for that of Naples	103
”		The King employs him without exacting sureties	103
1451.		The Emperor Frederick III. comes to Italy, and is crowned at Rome	103
1452.		The Neapolitan campaign in Tuscany under Federigo and the Duke of Calabria	103
1452-1453.		Federigo goes to Naples, and returns in the spring	104
1453.		Attacked by malaria fever	104
”	July 26.	His letter to the Priors of Siena	104
”		Uninteresting conclusion of the war	105
”	May 29.	Fall of the Greek empire, and taking of Constantinople	106
1454.		Efforts of Nicholas V. for a general league against the Turks	107
”	April 9.	The peace of Lodi	107
1455.	Mar. 24.	The death and character of Nicholas V.	107
1454.		Federigo's friendly visit to the King of Naples	108
1455.	Jan. 26.	The King ratifies the league with an unfortunate reservation	109
1457.		Federigo takes measures for humbling Sigismondo	109
”	April.	Visits Florence, Bologna, Milan, and Mantua	109
”		His fruitless interview with Sigismondo at Modena	110
”	June.	He goes to Naples for assistance; many intrigues there	110
”		Death of his Countess Gentile	111
”	Nov. 7.	Asks a mortar-founder from Siena	111
”		He attacks Sigismondo	112
1458.	May 2.	His despatch to the Priors of Siena	112
”	July 1.	Death of Alfonso of Naples	113
”	Aug. 6.	Death of Calixtus III.	113
”		Ambitious intrigues of Giacomo Piccinino, who seizes on part of the ecclesiastical territory	114
”		Federigo continued as Captain-general by Ferdinand of Naples	115
”		New disputes for the crown of Naples	115
1459.	May 27.	Pius II. summons a European congress at Mantua	116
”		His mediation between Malatesta and the Count of Urbino	116
”	June 21.	His letter to Federigo	117
”		His award in favour of Federigo	119

		Federigo's domestic life	120
1454.		His sons Buonconte and Antonio legitimated	120
1458.	Oct.	Buonconte dies at Naples of plague	120
”		Death of another son, Bernardino	120
1459.		Count Federigo's marriage to Battista Sforza proposed	121
”		Errors of Sismondi regarding her (note)	121
”		Her education and accomplishments	121
”	Nov.	Her betrothal at Pesaro	122
1460.	Feb. 10.	Her marriage celebrated at Urbino	122
”		Giovanni Sanzi's description of her	122
1459.		New wars in Italy interrupt the long-proposed Turkish crusade	123
”		Unpopularity of Ferdinand of Naples	123
”		State of the Angevine claimants to that crown	123
1458.	May 11.	Jean Duke of Calabria made Seigneur of Genoa	123
1459.		Supported in his designs upon Naples by France, Genoa, and Florence	124
”		Opposed by Pius II. and the Duke of Milan, who adhere to the Italian league	124
”	Oct. 4.	The Duke of Calabria sails from Genoa to invade Naples	124
1460.		Venice and Florence become neutral	124
”		Giacopo Piccinino deserts to the Angevines	125
”	Mar. 30.	Evades Federigo and reaches the Abruzzi	125
”	April.	The confederates follow him thither	125
”	July 7.	Ferdinand is beaten at Sarno	125
”		Armies of the League and of Piccinino meet at San Fabbiano	126
”		Tournament before the battle	126
”		Accident to the Count of Urbino	126
”	July 22.	Battle of San Fabbiano	127
”	””	Mistakes as to the date of it (note)	127
”	Aug. 2.	The confederates retreat	128
”		Anecdote of Count Federigo	129
”		Ferdinand saved by his Queen's intercession	130
”		Count Federigo re-engaged by Pius II.	130
”	Oct.	Rome threatened by Piccinino	130
”	Dec.	Count Federigo goes to Rome for Christmas	131
1461.		Sigismondo Malatesta put on trial	131
1462.	Apr. 14.	Burned and excommunicated	132
1461.	June.	Count Federigo crosses the Apennines	132
”	July.	His conversation with Pius II. on ancient history	133
”	Oct.	He reduces Aquila and Sora	133
”	”	Is complimented by Pius II.	134
1461-1462.		Visits Rome and Naples	134
1461.	Mar.	Angevine prepossessions of the Genoese changed by a revolution	135
”	July 17.	Total defeat of King René there	135
”		George Scanderbeg supports Ferdinand	135
1462.		Sigismondo Malatesta's force augmented	135
”	Aug.	Count Federigo hurries into La Marca to meet him	136
”	” 12.	Overthrows him at the Cesano, near Sinigaglia	137
”	””	Rejects his offers of friendship	137
”	Oct. 6.	His conduct approved by Pius II.	138
”	Nov. 3.	Made lieutenant-general of the ecclesiastical forces	139
”	Sept. 20.	Mondavio capitulates to him; the miseries of war	139
”	Oct. 22	Giovanni Malatesta taken prisoner at Montefiori, and liberated by him	140
”	” 31.	He obtains Verucchio by a dishonourable trick, and winters there	140
”	Aug. 18.	Piccinino defeated at Troia	141
”	Sept. 13.	The Prince of Tarento deserts the Angevines	141
1463.	Aug.	Piccinino follows his example	141
1464.		The Duke of Calabria finally quits Italy	141
1463.	July.	Fano besieged by Count Federigo	142
”	Sept. 28.	It is surrendered by Roberto Malatesta	143
”	””	His generosity to Sigismondo's family	143
”	””	The satisfaction of Pius	143
”	Oct. 5-25.	Sinigaglia and Gradara surrender to Federigo	144
”	”	Venice mediates in behalf of Sigismondo	144
”	”	He humbles himself to the Pope, and is absolved	145
”	Nov. 1.	Peace with the Malatesta, giving the Count an accession of territory	146

1463-1464.		The home administration of Federigo	147
””		Scantily illustrated by his biographers	147
””		His court and establishment	150
””		Its hospitalities	152
1454.		A new palace begun at Urbino	154
1463-1464.		Its appearance	154
””		Designed by Luziano Lauranna	155
””		Federigo's patent in his favour	156
””		And continued by Baccio Pontelli	157
””		Who makes a plan of it for Lorenzo de' Medici	157
””		Fallacy regarding Francesco di Giorgio	158
””		His frieze of trophies and pompous inscription	158
””		Description of the palace, and view from it	159
””		Its decorations in stone and intarsia	160
””		Fallacy as to its museum of art	161
””		The saloons for books and manuscripts	162
””		State of bibliography at this period	163
””		Federigo a collector of manuscripts	164
””		Attested by Sanzi and Vespasiano	164
””		Regulations of his library	167
””		Notice of its librarians	168
””		Its extent and cost	168
””		The stable-range built by Francesco di Giorgio	169
””		Cost of the palace	170
””		Anecdote of its foundation	170
””		Churches founded by Federigo	171
””		Description of his palace at Gubbio	171
””		His other residences	174
””		The extent and resources of his state	175

1464.	Aug.	The projected crusade abandoned	177
”	” 14.	Death of Pius II.; succeeded by Paul II.	177
”	”	Sanzi's lines on his death	178
”	Sept. 28.	Count Federigo made Gonfaloniere of the Church	179
”	”	Explanation of that title (note)	179
”	Oct. 24.	Returns to Urbino after visiting Naples	179
1465.	July.	His expedition against Anguillera	179
”	Nov. 20.	Death of Malatesta Novello of Cesena	180
1466.	Jan.	His state annexed to the Church by Count Federigo	180
”	Mar. 8.	Death of Francesco Sforza, Duke of Milan	180
”	”	Count Federigo goes to Milan	181
”	June 6.	Is reappointed captain-general by Duke Galeazzo Maria Sforza	181
”	”	Returns home	181
”		The protracted tranquillity and glory of Italy	182
1465.	July 12.	Murder of Giacomo Piccinino at Naples	183
1464.	Aug. 1.	Death of Cosimo de' Medici, Pater patriæ	184
1464-1466.		State of parties in Florence	184
1466-1467.		The exiles engage Colleoni to invade Tuscany	185
1467.	May 15.	Federigo's honourable condotta by the League	185
”	July 25.	Battle of La Molinella in the Bolognese, where field artillery was first used	187
”	”	Giovanni della Rovere distinguishes himself	187
1468.		Federigo visits the Duke of Milan	190
”	June.	Sent by him to meet his bride at Genoa	190
”	July.	Returns home	190
”	Sept.	Recalled to Milan	190
”	Oct.	Presented by him with a palace in that city	190
”	Nov.	Reduces Brisella	190
1469.	Jan.	Commissioned by him to wait upon the Emperor	190
”	March 1.	Returns home	190
1468.	Oct. 9.	Death of Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta	191
”		His character and tastes	191
”		His service in the Morea	194
”		Pretensions of his son Roberto on Rimini	195
”		The Pontiff outwitted by him	195
1469.		Rimini besieged by Alessandro Sforza	196
”	Aug. 30.	Great victory of Federigo near Rimini	199
”	”	His generosity	200
”	Nov.	Roberto regains his father's state	201
1470.		Federigo in high favour with Galeazzo Maria	200
”		Rupture of the League from foolish jealousies	200
1469.	Dec. 3.	Death of Pietro de' Medici	201
1470.	Dec. 22.	The League renewed	201
”	July 7.	Federigo's letters to the Signory of Siena	201
1471.	” 28.	Death of Paul II.	202
”		Roberto Malatesta invested with Rimini	203
1472.	Mar. 28.	Marries Princess Elisabetta of Urbino	203
”	April.	Note as to his title of Magnificent	203
1471.		Federigo attends the coronation of Sixtus IV.	203
”		Entertains the Persian envoys at Urbino	204
1472.		Entertains Cardinal Pietro Riario at Gubbio	205

1472.	Jan. 24.	His son Guidobaldo born at Gubbio	207
”	June 18.	Captures Volterra; its sack	211
”	”	Misstatements regarding his great MS. Hebrew Bible	212
”	”	His triumphant welcome at Florence	212
”	”	His fortunate position	213
”	July 6.	The death of his Countess Battista	214
”	”	His letters on that event	214
”	”	Notice of her life and character	216
”	”	Her portrait	218
”	Aug. 17.	Her obsequies	219
1472-1474.		Federigo at home	219
1474.	Aug. 20.	He goes to Rome	220
”	” 21.	Is invested with the ducal dignity	220
”	””	And is made Gonfaloniere of the Church	221
”	”	Obtains the Golden Rose	221
”	”	The marriage of his daughters Giovanna and Agnesina	222
”	Sept. 11.	Is invested with the order of the Ermine at Naples	223
”	”	And with that of the Garter at Grottoferrata	224
”		Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere sent against Città di Castello	225
”	Nov. 2.	A new league	225
”		Federigo's patronage of learned men	225
1475.		Books dedicated to him	227
”		Curious letter to him from the Priors of Arezzo	228
”		Testimony of Vespasiano	231
”		And of Giovanni Sanzi	231

1476.	Dec. 26.	Assassination of Duke Galeazzo Maria Sforza	234
”		His character by Sanzi	235
1477.	Jan.	Federigo prepares to march upon Milan, but attacks Montone	236
1473.		Count Girolamo Riario invested with Forlì and Imola	236
”		He is betrothed to Caterina Sforza	236
”		Her education and character	237
1477.		Their marriage	237
”		The friendship of Sixtus for Lorenzo de' Medici soon interrupted	237
”		Revolutions in Florence usually sprang from family feuds	239
”		Origin of the Pazzi conspiracy	239
1478.	April 26.	It explodes; Giuliano assassinated	240
”		Italian conspiracies and politics	241
”		The Pope is compromised	242
”		Lorenzo appeals to his fellow citizens	243
”		The parties to a new war in Tuscany	243
”		The Duke's letter to an astrologer	244
”		The campaign narrated by Federigo	245
”		He breaks his leg	247
”	Dec. 23.	He goes to the baths of Petriolo	247
1479.	May 23.	He leaves Petriolo	247
”		Defection of Roberto Malatesta	247
”		The Florentines successful at Thrasimene, but worsted in the Val d'Elsa	247
”	Nov. 12.	Colle surrenders	248
”	”	Its siege painted on a bicherna (note)	248
”		State of the Italian artillery	248
”		Notices of it by Duke Federigo	249
”	Nov. 20.	He goes to Siena and receives a donative	251
”	” 27.	A truce for three months	251
”		The unfortunate position of Florence, and disorganisation of its army	251
”	Dec. 6.	Lorenzo de' Medici goes to Naples to negotiate a treaty	252
1480.	Mar. 25.	Peace proclaimed	252
”	Dec.	Humiliation of the Florentines before Sixtus	253
1479-1480.		Intrigues of the Duke of Calabria at Siena	253
””		Federigo winters at the baths of Viterbo	253
””		He receives the Sword and Hat	253
1480.	May 19.	His letter to the magistrates at Siena	254
”		He returns home	254
”		Count Girolamo takes possession of Forlì	254
”		Description of his Countess	255
1474-1479.		Progress of the Turks in Europe	256
1480.	Aug. 11.	They take Otranto by concert with the Venetians	257
”		Consequent panic in Italy, and new combinations of its powers	257
”		Federigo summoned by Ferdinand, but detained by Sixtus	257
1481.	May 3.	Death of Sultan Mahomet	257
”	Aug. 10.	Otranto recovered from the Turks	257

1481.		Sixtus combines with the Venetians against Ferrara	258
”		Federigo declines their offers, and vainly inculcates peace	259
1482.	April 17.	He is engaged to command the League in defence of Ferrara	259
”	” 23.	His departure for the campaign	260
”		Description of the seat of war	261
”	May 3.	War declared by Venice	262
”	” 11.	The Venetians besiege Ficheruolo	262
”	” 4.	Federigo's letter to Lorenzo de' Medici	262
”	”	He goes to Milan and Mantua for reinforcements	264
”	” 20.	Returns to La Stellata	264
”	June.	Fatal effects of malaria	264
”	” 29.	Ficheruolo taken	265
”	July.	Ferrara hard pressed, but obstinately defended by Federigo	265
”	”	His appeal to the Pontiff, who perseveres in his schemes of nepotism	265
”	”	Lawless condition of Rome	266
”	”	Federigo attacked by fever, and relapses	266
”	”	He resigns his command, and retires to Ferrara	267
”	Sept. 10.	Prepares for death and expires	267
”	”	Simultaneous death of Roberto Malatesta	269
”	”	Character of Duke Federigo, by Poggio Bracciolino	270
”	”	By Francesco di Giorgio	270
”	”	By Pirro Pirotti and Cyrneo	271
”	”	By Vespasiano	272
”	”	Anecdotes preserved by him	273
”	”	His military commands	282
”	”	His funeral	283
”	”	His body subsequently exposed	283
1482.		Notice of his portrait, by Piero della Francesca, with his Countess	284
”		By Mantegna, with his son	285
”		By an unknown artist	286
”		By Fra Carnevale	287
”		By Justus of Ghent	288
”		By an unknown artist	288
”		His children and their marriages	289

1482.		Retrospect for Duke Federigo's reign	295
1472.	Jan. 24.	Birth of his son Guidobaldo, who is confirmed by Cardinal Bessarion	296
”	July 6.	Death of Guidobaldo's mother	296
”		His precocious genius and sweet temper	296
”		Attested by his tutor Odasio	297
1482.	Sept. 17.	His father's death	299
”		Position of the duchy	299
”	Sept. 17.	Investiture of Duke Guidobaldo I.	300
”		He is continued in his father's command	301
1483.	Jan. 6.	Sixtus deserts the Venetians, and joins the League	301
”		Guidobaldo in the service of Naples	303
”	July 19.	Death of Costanzo Sforza of Pesaro	303
1484.	Aug. 13.	Death of Sixtus IV.	304
”	” 29.	And election of Innocent VIII.	304
”	” 11.	Treaty of Bagnuolo	305
1485.		The Pontiff attacks Naples.	305
”		Guidobaldo retained by him	305
”	Aug. 11.	Peace restored	305
1486.		Guidobaldo serves under Trivulzio	306
”		The regency of Ottaviano Ubaldini terminates	306
1488.	April 14.	The assassination of Count Girolamo Riario, and revolution at Forlì	307
”		Energetic measures of his widow	307
”		The regulations and manners of the court of Urbino	309
”		Duke Guidobaldo betrothed to Elisabetta Gonzaga of Mantua	311
1489.	Oct.	Their marriage and disappointment of children	312
1490.		Comparative repose of Italy	313
1492.	April 7.	Death of Lorenzo de' Medici	314
”	July 25, 29.	And of the Pope	314
”	Aug. 11.	Succeeded by Alexander VI.	314

1492.		Condition of the papacy on the accession of Alexander VI.	315
”		His family descent and debauched life	316
”		Circumstances of his election	317
”		His children and their scandalous conduct	318
”		Pedigree of the Borgia	320
”		The aspect of Italy at the close of her golden age	321
”		Described by Guicciardini	322
”		Sketch of the disputed succession of Naples, and its results	322
”		The condition of Milan and Venice	325
”		And of Florence	326
”		Character of Charles VIII. of France, and his views upon Italy	327
”		Negotiations for an Italian League frustrated by Pietro de' Medici	328
”		State of the Roman Campagna and its rival barons	329
”		Their feuds fire the train	331
”		Ludovico il Moro invites Charles into Italy	331
1493.		Military circumstances of Italy	332
”		The condottiere system gradually abandoned	333
”		Condemned by Machiavelli	334
”		A new system introduced	335
”		Lances, stradiotes, and infantry	335
”		The Swiss infantry	337
”		The lansquenets and Spaniards	338
”		Introduction of fire-arms and artillery	338

1494.	Jan.	Alfonso II. succeeds to the crown of Naples	341
”		Position of the Italian powers at the invasion of Charles VIII.	341
”		Alfonso's efforts to conciliate the Pontiff and his children	342
”		His son Cesare made Cardinal Valentino	343
”		The Pope employs Guidobaldo against the Orsini	344
”		His first attack of gout	344
”		The marriage of Lucrezia Borgia to Giovanni Sforza of Pesaro	344
”		Its scandalous orgies	345
”	June.	Her visit to Urbino	345
”		Double-dealing of Alexander with Alfonso	345
”		The calamities of the French invasion	346
”		Description of Charles VIII. by Guicciardini	346
”		And by Mantegna	347
”		And by Ludovico il Moro	347
”		The campaign opened by Sir Bernard Stuart of Aubigny	348
”	Aug. 20.	Charles leaves Vienne and reaches Milan	348
”		Alfonso alone prepares to oppose him	348
”		Sends the Duke of Calabria into Romagna	348
”		He is supported by the Duke of Urbino, but without avail	348
”	Nov. 9.	Tuscany welcomes Charles, and expels the Medici	349
”		This revolution graphically described	350
”		Financial expedient proposed at Florence	351
”	Dec. 31.	Charles enters Rome	351
1495.	Jan. 28.	Leaves it for Naples	351
”	” 23.	Alfonso abdicates the crown, and dies soon after	351
”	”	Succeeded by his son Ferdinand II., who retires to Ischia	352
”	” 22.	Charles takes possession of Naples	352
”	Mar. 31.	A new League formed against the French	352
1494.	Oct.	Ludovico il Moro becomes Duke of Milan	353
1495.		The demoralisation of the French army	353
”	May 20.	It leaves Naples	353
”	July 6.	Battle of the Taro, at Fornovo	354
”	Oct.	It re-enters France	354
”	July.	Ferdinand II. restored at Naples	354
1496.		Whose French garrison surrenders	355
”		Results to Italy of this invasion	355
1495.		The Pisan war, in which Guidobaldo was engaged by the Florentines	356
”		Their conduct leads to fresh discord	356
”		And to an invasion by Maximilian	357
”		Guidobaldo recalled by the Pope to aid in restoring Ferdinand II.	357
1496.	Oct.	Who dies soon after	358
”	”	Peace again troubled by Alexander, who attacks the Orsini	358
”	”	Aided by Guidobaldo	358
”		His petty campaign against Bracciano	359
1497.	Jan. 23.	Is beaten, and taken prisoner	360
”		The Venetian Signory interfere in his behalf	361
”		A heavy ransom extorted from him with the Pope's connivance	361

1497.		Ambitious nepotism of Alexander VI.	363
”		Divorce of Lucrezia	363
”	June 15.	Murder of the Duke of Gandia	364
”	””	Its mystery and scandals	364
”	””	Its effect upon the public	366
”	””	And on the Pope	366
”	” 19.	His oration, repentance, and relapse	366
”		Followed by new favours to Cesare Borgia	369
”	Sept. 5	Who returns from his Neapolitan embassy a rejected suitor	369
1498.	Aug.	Marriage of Lucrezia to the Duke of Bisceglia	369
”		Guidobaldo's expedition against the Baglioni of Perugia	369
”		He is engaged by the Medici to arm for their restoration to Florence	370
”		Failure of the expedition	370
”		His illness at Bibbiena	370
1499.		He adopts his nephew Francesco Maria della Rovere, as heir of the dukedom	371
1498.	April 7.	Death of Charles VIII.	372
”	”	Succeeded by Louis XII.	372
”		His views upon Italy	372
”		State of parties there	372
”		Ambition of Alexander to secure to Cesare a sovereignty	373
”	Sept. 17.	His ecclesiastical orders annulled, and his embassy to Paris with the King's divorce	373
”	” 28.	Letter of the Pope to Louis	374
”		By whom Cesare is created Duke Valentino	375
”		He aspires to the crown of Naples	375
”		His magnificence	375
1499.		Again rejected by a Neapolitan princess	375
”		His intrigues as to Louis' divorce	375
”		A new league against the French proposed	376
”		The marriage of Duke Valentino	376
”	Oct. 6.	The French conquer Lombardy and enter Milan	377
”	June.	Guidobaldo's visit to Venice, and condotta by the Signory	377

1499.		Valentino's schemes upon Romagna	379
”		Its condition, as detailed by Sismondi	379
”		Strictures upon his views	383
”		Valentino marches upon Imola	384
”		Our last notice of Caterina Riario Sforza	384
”	Dec. 31.	He takes that town, and goes to Rome	385
1500.		Ludovico il Moro carried captive to France	385
”		The prodigality of the Borgia	386
”		Supplied by sacrilege and simony	387
”	Oct. 27.	Cesare, supported by the French, seizes Pesaro	388
1501.	April 22.	And Faenza; murder of its princes	389
”		He is made Duke of Romagna	389
”		Sismondi's eulogy on his administration	389
”		Imitating Machiavelli and Filosseno	390
”		But contradicted by Sanuto	391
”		The true spirit of his government	392
”		Arrested in his designs upon Bologna and Florence	392
”	Sept. 3.	Seizes upon Piombino	393
”		Louis invades Naples	393
”		Its partition betwixt France and Spain	394
”		Abdication of Federigo of Naples; he retires to France, where he died in 1504	394
1503.		His kingdom passes to Spain	394
1501.		New crimes and intrigues of the Borgia	395
”		Lucrezia's fourth marriage to the Prince of Ferraro	396
1502.	Jan. 18.	She visits Urbino on her way home	397
”		Her reformed life	397
1519.	June.	Letter of condolence on her death	397

1502.		Guidobaldo's retired life	399
1500.		Visits Rome for the Jubilee	399
1501.	Nov. 6.	Death of his brother-in-law the Prefect	399
1502.	April 24.	Succeeded by his son Francesco Maria	399
”		The Duchess of Urbino at Venice	400
”		New schemes of Valentino	400
”	June 20.	He surprises Urbino	401
”	” 28.	The Duke narrates his flight to Mantua	401
”	”	Further details	407
”		He finds refuge in Venice	409
”		Improbable rumour regarding him	409
”	June 21.	Cesare enters Urbino	410
”		And seizes Camerino	411
1502.		His brutal character	411
”		He goes to Milan, and justifies himself with Louis XII	412
”		His lust of further sway	412
”	Sept.	Diet at La Magione of the menaced princes	412
1502.		Character of Liverotto da Fermo	412
”	Oct. 5.	S. Leo lost to Valentino and retaken	413
”	” 8.	Letter from him (note)	414
”	”	A general rising throughout Urbino	414
”	”	Cruelly checked by Don Michelotto	415
”	”	But supported by the confederates of Magione	415
”	”	Valentino retrieves himself, and recruits his forces	415
”	” 18.	Guidobaldo returns and is welcomed	416
”	” 28.	Valentino wins back the confederates	418
”	Dec. 8.	Finding resistance vain, the Duke retires in broken health	419
1503.	Jan. 27.	His despatch to the Doge of Venice	422
”	” 31.	And narrative of his escape to that city	423

		Authors in the family of Montefeltro	427
		Specimens of their compositions	428
		Wardrobe inventory of Sister Serafina	433
		Poetry of Ottaviano Ubaldini	436
		Concessions of Duke Federigo to the citizens on his election in 1444	438
		Devices and mottoes of the Dukes of Urbino	443
		Illuminated MSS. in the Urbino Library	446
		The MS. Hebrew Bible	446
		The MS. Latin Bible	447
		The MS. Dante	448
		The MS. Lives of the Dukes of Urbino	449
		Duke Federigo made a Knight of the Garter	450
		His letters to Edward IV. and the English courtiers	450
		Anstis' account of it	456
		Sanzi's account of it	457
		Porcellio's account of it	459
		Army of Charles VIII. in 1493	460
		Battle of the Taro in 1495	463
		Duke Valentino's arrival at the French court in 1498	468
		Ludovico il Moro's entry into Lyons in 1500	470
		Marcello Filosseno's sonnet on Italy	472
		Lucrezia d'Este's marriage festivities at Ferrara, 1502	473

---

Note.—The Editor's notes are marked with an asterisk.

---

---

THE country which composed the Duchy of Urbino, and which nearly corresponds with the modern Legation of Urbino and Pesaro, is situated upon the eastern fall of Central Italy, between the 43rd and 44th parallels of north latitude. It stretches along the Adriatic, and extends about forty miles in length, and as many in breadth. From the Apennine ridge to the coast, it includes modifications of surface, climate, and soil, suited to a variety of natural productions, and admirably calculated for the development of the human frame. On the summit grew those magnificent pines which gave to the district of Massa the epithet of Trabaria, from the beams which were carried thence for the palaces of Rome, and which are noticed by Dante as

"The living rafters on the back Of Italy."

Below these stretched forests of chestnut and oak, succeeded by hardy orchard trees, and in the lower grounds by the olive and vine, to which its ever broken and undulating surface is peculiarly favourable. Through numberless ravines are conveyed copious streams, supplying abundant water-power for grinding rich harvests, grown in the alluvial valleys, and in the plains which open upon the sea. From its shores are drawn ample supplies of fish. Its mountains and manors abounded in game, so long as that was protected by resident princes. In its rugged Apennines, which around Cagli tower to the height of 5000 feet, no valuable minerals have been discovered; nor do its mountain torrents admit of navigation, but with two coast-harbours this was scarcely felt as a privation.

For the topography of the duchy our chief authority is Cimarelli, who wrote about two centuries ago, and who begins it about forty years after the flood! It was an absurd whim of Italian mediæval authors, which has prevailed almost till the present day, to wander among the traditional or imaginary cycles of remote ages, extolling the antiquity of their theme at a sacrifice of truth and credibility. Into such extravagances we shall not be tempted. It is enough to say that this district formed part of ancient Umbria, and is in some degree identical with that known to Roman history as Gallia Senonia. When the Western Empire crumbled to pieces, it was broken up into many petty communities, some of which adopted for themselves republican institutions, while others fell into the hands of military adventurers, who transmitted their sway to their descendants in hereditary right, founded upon personal enterprise or the consent of their subjects. After the nominal regimen of the occidental empire had been transferred across the Alps, these new communities and counts often sought from its titular emperor a confirmation of their self-constituted rights. This demand, recognising in name a sovereignty already substantially theirs, was willingly accorded as the basis of a transaction flattering to one party, momentous to the other. But the gradually opening ambition of the Church, and the extension of her temporal rule into Romagna and La Marca by the donations of Pepin, Charlemagne, and the Countess Matilda, introduced another competitor for dominion in these provinces. Her claim was made good, in some cases by a voluntary surrender on the part of men whose piety prevailed over their love of power, in others by force of arms; but by most of the mountain chiefs, and by a few of the free towns, loyalty to the emperor's shadowy authority was used as a pretext for resisting a new element which threatened their own sway. The two rival parties which sprang out of these circumstances came to be distinguished as Guelph and Ghibelline, although their watchwords were often adopted by local or temporary factions.

Many circumstances tended to an extensive establishment of political independence among the small states thus formed in Italy during the Middle Ages. Distance and the unsettled state of the Peninsula having reduced to little more than a name the direct imperial sovereignty of

"That imperious bird, Whose double beak a double prey devours,"[10]

the emperors endeavoured to render it still available to their political importance, through the intervention of military vicegerents. To each of these a certain territory was conveyed, generally with the title of count, which they were understood to govern for behoof of the empire. Practically, however, they were nearly secure against any strict accounting for their stewardship, and, provided they attended the imperial banner in the field with a befitting following, paid with tolerable regularity the annual cense, or contribution exigible under their tenure, and did homage as vassals at the imperial coronations, they were allowed to enjoy or abuse unquestioned what rights of sovereignty they thought fit to assume. Nor was there any effective check upon the marauding spirit of conquest, which in that age formed the natural outlet of personal ambition; and these feudatories were left to fight with their neighbours whenever their swords were not called into requisition by their common over-lord: still more were they allowed to deal undisturbed with the people submitted to their jurisdiction, who were of course presumed to endure and obey.

At a period nearly coeval with the formation of these independent fiefs, and much antecedent to the aggregation of civic communities in other parts of Europe, we find the peninsular towns advancing into importance. Their establishment was favoured by the absence of a perfect feudal organisation,[*11] for men exempt from such fetters associated together more readily than those in transalpine lands. The fertility of the soil, and consequent density of population, admitted of cultivators congregating in homes of their own choice; and the malaria generated in that luxurious climate often rendered isolated dwellings insalubrious.[*12] The peasant-hamlets thus formed were quickly augmented by the influx of all who sought protection from external foes or tyrannical masters. The increase of population brought strength; strength gave security; security attracted wealth and numbers; and these united elements created intelligence and public spirit, the only sure basis of liberty. Their first necessity being self-defence, their dwellings were placed in sites of natural strength, and soon girt by walls. The enemies they most dreaded were the adjoining lords, to whose jurisdiction they nominally belonged, but whose claims they were not unfrequently able to meet, either by formidable resistance, or by a charter of privileges, which the emperors, ever willing to curb their barons, were seldom loath to accord. The independence thus wrung from the counts was cemented by the spirit of civic liberty, while the development of municipal strength and privileges gave to citizens a social and political pre-eminence over the rural population, beyond what they attained in countries where feudalism served to link the agricultural class with the central authority. Among men united for a common object, and thrown upon their own resources, the popular element early developed itself. Such communities finding themselves without a master, a position which, when real freedom was unknown, only exposed them to attacks from stronger neighbours, their instinct of self-preservation, ere long, induced attempts at self-government. Townships consequently multiplied, developed themselves into cities, and became republics.

Thus rose the Italian republics, not as is often superficially supposed, in the mercantile cities alone, but in almost every township of Upper Italy. Their constitutional forms not only varied from each other, but were constantly fluctuating, under a desire for novelty, the contests of rival factions, and the influence of external events. Republics they were, in so far as they owned no hereditary head. They believed themselves self-governed, because their ever-recurring revolutions were their own act, or at least were effected by their own instrumentality. But the democratic element seldom long existed in purity.[*13] After the émeute was over, a self-constituted oligarchy, a rich and designing citizen, or an ambitious prelate, often stepped in, to enjoy that power for which the people had fought, until these, roused by some too undisguised tyranny, or by some new caprice, rushed to the piazza, and threw off their masters, leaving it to chance or intrigue to give them new ones.

Lamartine, the eloquent advocate and partially successful hero of popular rights, has admitted that there can be no progress unless "many interests are injured," and that "such transformations are not operated without great resistance, without an infinity of anguish and private misfortune." This, however, is no place to raise the question, how far the benefit of so much political liberty was balanced by the inadequate guarantee of person and property, inherent in such a state of things, or whether the security of domestic peace would have been too dearly purchased by a partial sacrifice of popular power. Yet few who argue these points will deny that whatever influence the republican constitutions of Italy may have had upon the individual happiness of their own citizens, they sowed the seeds of that intelligence, that freedom of thought, that ardent aspiration for the amelioration of mankind, which have ever since so beneficially acted upon European civilisation.

The liberty of Italian republics has been frequently misapprehended, and will disappoint those who seek in it such safeguards of life and property as freedom in its modern sense is understood to afford. Under no form of civilised government were those guarantees more feeble or ineffective than where tyranny of the wayward and irresponsible many was substituted for domination by one. The philosophic Guizot has even condemned these republics as "utterly irreconcilable with security for life (that first ingredient in social existence) and with progress;" as "incapable of developing freedom or extending the scope of institutions;" as tending to "limit their range and concentrate authority in a few individuals." To these conclusions we must demur, and they appear inconsistent with the just tribute he gracefully pays to the intelligence, wealth, and brilliancy of Italian democracies; to the courage, activity, genius, and general prosperity of their denizens. But the argument and inferences of this French historian are easily reconcilable with a political creed largely prevailing among his countrymen, who find in centralisation the triumph of our age, the panacea for social anomalies. To that end has doubtless tended the progress of Europe during the last four centuries, and more especially the present rapid career of events, whether for ultimate weal or woe must be hereafter seen. Yet whilst we hesitate to paint the Ausonian republics in the utopian colours of Sismondi, we cannot adopt the narrow proportions ascribed to them by his less enthusiastic countryman. They filled the Peninsula with separate aims and paltry interests at a time when union was its sole security, yet they trained men to self-government, the first step towards that constitutional freedom without which nationality itself is a questionable boon.

The growth of communities opposed by every interest to the domination of the imperial counts was viewed by these with natural jealousy. But in many instances their alarm proved groundless, as eventually some of them came to swell the very power which they were originally established to limit. Those towns which, from the fault of their site or other incidental circumstances, did not increase in population and wealth, found themselves defenceless in a land where might made right. They therefore often passed, after a more or less feeble resistance, under the sway of some powerful feudatory, or, by voluntary surrender of their unsubstantial independence, sought from his strong arm protection against the grasp of more dreaded neighbours, or redress from the ravages of rival factions which lacerated their internal repose. The title usually assumed with the authority thus acquired was that of Signore, which in the following pages is generally rendered by Lord or Seigneur, there being no term in our idiom adapted to express exactly a jurisdiction at no time known to our constitution, but resembling the "tyranny" of the old Greek commonwealths. The same word is used to designate those citizens or military adventurers who, by force or popular consent, acquired a temporary or enduring mastery in the free towns of the Peninsula. Widely different in its exercise as in its origin from feudal jurisdiction, the power which had thus been more or less derived from the people was for the most part temperately wielded. The territorial baron dwelt among his citizen subjects, conforming to their usages and encouraging their progressive civilisation. His authority was originally personal, but in many instances it was skilfully used as a foundation for family claims, which talent or influence enabled a series of persons of the same race to make good. But, as in Celtic chieftainship, rules of hereditary succession were less attended to than individual fitness for the change. Younger branches often excluded the elder ones, and in some cases, such as the Malatesta,

"The bastard slips of old Romagna's line,"

illegitimacy seems to have been practically a recommendation.[*14] To those at all conversant with Italian history, it may be superfluous to add that, while some of these petty sovereigns

"Did fret and strut their hour upon the stage, And then were heard no more,"

others, more able or more fortunate, founded dynasties to which, as promoters of commerce, literature, and the fine arts, modern civilisation is largely indebted, and from whom are descended several reigning families of Europe.

No circumstance more generally affected all governments in Italy, or is of more importance to a comprehension of their history, than the contests of the Guelphs and Ghibellines. Upon this wide and complicated topic it is unnecessary now to enter, further than to state, as a general rule, that the feudatories adhered to the emperor, whilst the self-governed communities were more partial to the Guelphic or papal faction. This was natural, as the Ghibelline or imperial party was essentially opposed to democratic tendencies, while the Church had, from various causes, become almost identified with popular principles. But the distinction was often inapplicable; for these words underwent the usual fate of party epithets, changing and counterchanging their signification with time and place, until the original meaning was lost, though their fatal influence on human passions remained unmodified. For alas! in all ages,

"Some watchword for the fight Must vindicate the wrong, and warp the right; Religion, freedom, vengeance, what you will, A word's enough to rouse mankind to kill."

Thus, free cities which, like Florence, were regarded as strongholds of the Guelphs, were occasionally by a sudden revolution thrown into the hands of the opposite faction; even the Ghibelline nobles were sometimes induced, by ambition or pique, to make their peace with the Church; whilst more unprincipled holders of power sought to extend it by alternately selling their services to either party, and in turn betraying both. It also happened that counts of the empire, on obtaining the seigneury of towns, found these so much the most valuable portion of their dignities, that they were glad to strengthen their title to them by accepting papal investitures, instead of holding them by the sword, or by popular will. The pontiffs readily promoted a device, which converted into ostensible supremacy the vague and undefined claims they asserted to temporal domination, whether arising out of Countess Matilda's donation, or from other disputed titles; and they hesitated not to include even imperial countships in their charters. They thus transferred to the Holy See feudal presentations of money and military service which were legitimately due to the emperors, whose waning influence in Italy rendered such usurpations little hazardous; whilst the vassals, suiting themselves to the change of times, were content to hold their sovereignty as vicars of the Church, instead of as counts of the empire. Little did they deem that the rising sun, which they were thus prompt to worship, would eventually consume them, root and branch!

Yet the tenures and investitures of these seigneuries constituted but a pseudo-feudalism, resting upon a basis entirely different from that of the barons of northern nations. Among the latter, land, as the only known element of political power, was monopolised by the sovereign, who doled it out, under such conditions as he deemed fit, to those whose good swords were best able to defend it and the donor. The principle thus diffused from the centre radiated through the mass. The nobles parcelled out their great estates in various portions among friends and dependents, military service being the consideration chiefly exacted, in times when a circulating medium was scanty, and the pecuniary wants much restricted. This system established two main results. The hardy and patriotic soldiery who peopled the rural territory were the nerve of the nation, whilst the landless population, being destitute of individual importance, gradually drew together for mutual support, and settled in communities under the protection of some powerful lord or influential monastery. But in the Ausonian peninsula natural causes induced gregarious habits and social influences, whereby the peaceful pursuits of trade and money-making were promoted. An efficient soldiery was, however, rendered requisite for the small states by the very circumstances which most contributed to their general prosperity,—their numbers and near neighbourhood, the competition of commercial communities, the struggles of political or family factions. Yet in proportion to the development of that prosperity, and the increase of wealth and refinement, the reluctance of substantial and sedentary citizens became more decided to the inconveniences and hardships of the field. For them the art of war was scarcely less a calamity than its miseries; the more they had to lose, the less willing or able were they to defend it. There are few evils in life which money may not remedy or alleviate, and when it was found that substitutes could be hired to relieve them from military service, the problem was satisfactorily solved. Fighting became a separate profession, and its duties no longer distracted those who had other occupations. Thus arose the condottiere system, by which any bold baron or experienced captain, having formed round his banner a corps of tried and daring spirits, leased their services and his own for a stipulated term and price. Their whole arrangements being avowedly mercenary, they had no patriotism, no preference for standards or watchwords. The highest offer secured them, and when their engagement expired, or their pay fell into arrear, they were free to pass over to the enemy, or seek any other master. But besides their fixed stipend, they had perquisites from the hazards of war: the ransom of rich prisoners accrued to the leaders, while the soldiery were glutted by the occasional booty of a sacked city.

The changes occasioned by this system influenced Italy in its military, political, and social relations. Formerly, a truce disarmed the combatants, and sent them to forget their discipline in their domestic duties. Now, one campaign followed another, teaching the same free companies new evolutions and more perfect lessons in martial science; or if a piping time of general peace ever arrived, their leaders scrupled not to keep them in practice by a private adventure of pillage against some feeble victim, until they should be required for the fresh contests which a few months were sure to develop. Their armour, accoutrement, and drill thus became more complicated; men-at-arms and lances were considered the only effective troops. But their efficiency was counteracted by another result of stipendiary warfare. Exempt from enthusiasm in any cause, their tactics became a money question. To close a campaign by a series of brilliant successes was to kill the goose that gave them the golden eggs: to carry havoc into the adverse ranks was damaging to those who might be their next paymasters or comrades. Sanguinary conflicts brought them danger without advantage, whilst the capture of an opponent or a camp ensured for them a rich prize. War was, in fact, a game which they were paid to play, with no interest in the stakes beyond their individual opportunities of plunder. Equally indifferent to past victories or future fame, they cared little for beating the enemy, could they but reach his baggage-waggons, or temporise until he could buy them off. Battles, thus deprived of their dangers and stirring incidents, became great prize-fights, in which the victors deserved no sympathy, and the conquered required no commiseration. Gain was substituted for glory, languor for gallantry, calculation for courage. Patriotism slumbered; honesty of purpose and energy of action fell into disuse; the parties in the match, careless of victory, manœuvred only for stalemate. Hence the political results of Italian campaigns were inconsiderable, compared with the forces in the field, the time consumed, and the resources expended. Impoverished states were generally left without defenders and even wealthy belligerents were liable to a sudden and immediate desertion by their hireling bands. Still more fatal were the moral effects upon the people. The feudal system rendered every occupier of the soil a soldier, ready to stand by his king and country; and it transmitted to more peaceful times "a bold peasantry, their country's pride" and best defenders. But it was otherwise with the brave spirits of the Ausonian commonwealths; they were bound to the banner of some privileged bandit, who served the best bidder, whilst the mass of the community became indifferent to a native land for which they were never called upon to hazard life or limb. The stipendiaries fought for or against freedom, faith, country, and comrades; the citizens endured their outrage or purchased their mercy. In the end, the military were brutalised, whilst the civilians became enervated. The former were made venal, the latter cowardly. The master-mind of Machiavelli, after the French invasions of 1492-9, saw these mischiefs, and would have remedied them by his plan for a civic militia; but it was too late, and the degeneracy engrafted upon the national character of Italy by the condottiere system still cankers it to the core.

---

Although the states which grew up under these varying circumstances are universally known as the Italian Republics, this phrase is scarcely correct in our idiom. The leading peculiarity of mediæval Italy was the separate sovereignty of its petty principalities, and towns of minor rank, in which democratic constitutions were but incidental and transient distinctions, progressively disappearing as the dark ages were succeeded by a cycle of golden radiance. The Italian Republics might, therefore, be more aptly named the Italian Communes or Commonwealths. This misnomer has also given rise to somewhat confused views regarding the amount of liberty enjoyed in these states, especially since their history has become known to us from the pen of one whose democratic prepossessions, though clothed in eloquence, are so tempered by benevolent philosophy as those of Sismondi.

Liberty is a word of vague signification, both as to quality and degree. In a political sense, it has at least three meanings: personal freedom, self-government, national independence. Let us test the application of each of these qualities to the Italian commonwealths. Neither in them nor in any contemporary state, was freedom of person known in name or in fact. Individuals had no guarantee against oppression by their rulers, nor security from their powerful neighbours; no great charter constituted for them a claim of right to personal protection. In this respect there was little difference between the subjects of a petty autocrat and those of a democratic faction,—between the tyranny of one or of many: but in Venice, that most prosperous and permanent of all the commonwealths, which Roscoe, by a happy antithesis, has described as a "republic of nobles with a populace of slaves," and which especially arrogated the republic as its title, individual safety was at the lowest grade.

In most of the communities, self-government, or the sovereignty of the people, had scarcely a reality as regarded the masses. Under the seigneurs, when the hereditary principle was weak, it was oftener supplemented or infringed by the sword than by the popular will. In the few commonwealths which, during the fifteenth century, preserved their democratic institutions, such as Florence and Siena, the guilds and companies constituted indeed a quasi-representative system; but these had generally fallen into the hands of privileged classes, and even the shadow of power which clung to them was constantly torn away by some ambitious burgher, or misused for the extermination of a rival faction. Indeed, the most liberal of their constitutions corresponded in the main to our own municipal machinery, limiting the privileges of self-government to certain classes in the cities, and entirely excluding from them the rural population. The value at which these privileges were held may be estimated by the indifference of immediately adjacent despotic states, whether languishing under the savage tyranny of a Malatesta,[*15] or enjoying the beneficent sway of a Montefeltro. Even when, outraged beyond endurance, they rose against their oppressors, it was much more frequently to set up a new autocrat, than to seize for themselves power which the example of their democratic neighbours appears to have invested with no charm. We may therefore fairly conclude that the self-governed citizens of Ancona, Assisi, and San Marino, enjoyed no envied advantages over those of the surrounding principalities, which unquestionably outshone them in historical and literary illustration.

Since, then, the peculiar quality which infused extraordinary mental vigour into the Italian commonwealths, and imparted to them a social influence beyond their real importance, consisted neither in personal security nor in self-sovereignty, it must have chiefly depended upon the only remaining description of freedom, their nationality. By this phrase we mean not that mere independence of foreign and barbarian sway, which it was long the papal policy to vindicate by oceans of blood and treasure, but the maintenance in each community of a separate and supreme political status, frequently co-existent with municipal franchises and local administration, but always irresponsible to neighbours or to nominal over-lords, whether emperor or pope. The elevation of sentiment which such a position infused, both into communities and individuals, forms the noblest feature in Italian mediæval history. The honours, the privileges, and the responsibilities of citizenship were thus maintained in more immediate contact with those of the commonwealth, whereof the humblest might boast himself a participator. Besides this, there ensued many advantages of a more material description. By giving each small state its own capital, the wealth and patronage belonging to a seat of government, and in most instances to a court, were secured for it. The residence of its sovereign and officials retained in home circulation not only the revenues of the principality, but the income drawn by him from foreign fiefs and from military adventures. It kept up a permanent aristocracy of talent and genius as well as of rank and wealth, such as it was the pride of most of these courts to encourage and protect. The practical operation of these causes may be illustrated from the condition of Romagna and La Marca during the fifteenth century. About one half of the present papal territory there was then divided among the following independent states:—

Ferrara,	held as a	Marquisate	by the	d'Este.
Bologna	"	Seigneury	"	Bentivoglii.
Ravenna	"	"	"	Polenta.
Imola	"	"	"	Alidosii and Sforza.
Faenza	"	"	"	Manfredi.
Forlì	"	"	"	Ordelaffi and Riarii.
Cesena	"	"	"	Malatesta.
Rimini	"	"	"	Malatesta.
Pesaro	"	"	"	Malatesta and Sforza.
Fano	"	"	"	Malatesta.
Urbino	"	Dukedom	"	Montefeltro.
S. Angelo, &c.	"	Seigneury	"	Brancaleoni.
Città di Castello	"	"	"	Vitelli.
Perugia	"	"	"	Baglioni.
Assisi	"	Republic.
Foligno	"	Republic.
Spoleto	"	Dukedom,		not hereditary.
Camerino	"	Seigneury	by the	Varana.
Fermo	"	"	"	Fogliani.
Ancona	"	Republic.
Sinigaglia	"	Seigneury	by the	della Rovere.
Mercatello	"	Countship	"	Brancaleoni.

It may seem strange that a territorial arrangement which, unless cemented by a confederacy, is condemned by the publicist as fatal to national strength, should have formerly ensured to Italy, as it had done to ancient Greece, no ordinary measure of those benefits which national independence is supposed to secure. But it is still more remarkable that the nationality prescribed by political empiricists nowadays as a remedy for all her woes should be directly opposed to the system under which she became the harbinger of European improvement and civilisation. This subject, if followed out, would lead to disquisitions, for which these pages are no place. Enough to observe, that the centralisation which united these twenty-two commonwealths under the papal sway, is still, after two centuries, their standing grievance. A spirit of discontent now broods over that district, although government is mildly administered, and taxation is moderate for a land so productive. But twenty-two capitals have been absorbed, and consequently humbled and empoverished. Hinc illæ lacrymæ! Yet theorists, sweeping away ancient landmarks, and overstepping natural boundaries, would begin their speculative ameliorations of the Ausonian peninsula by provincialising nine of her ten remaining capitals; they would diffuse desolation, propagate discontent, and call them nationality. The projects of union and strength that tinge such day-dreams are met by a perhaps insurmountable barrier, in the abundant local jealousies which have survived the independence of multitudinous petty states, and which, as in Spain, often amusingly startle strangers in that country.[16] When an Italian talks with ardour of his patria, or devotes his energies to illustrate its history or its heroes, he means not Dante's land,

"Circled by sea and Alps, parted by Apennine,"

but the village which gave him birth, or, at most, the province in which he dwells. Such is the boasted and burning patriotism of Young Italy, however her advocates may gloss over the fact.

These are, however, matters belonging rather to speculation than to history, and from which it is time to return. That we have not unreasonably questioned the tendency of the old Italian democracies to promote individual felicity, and the safety of personal rights, may be presumed from the dictum of one whose prepossessions are all in their favour. The views stated in the following passage in the main bear out those observations we have hazarded, and illustrate the tendency of republicanism, in its sternest forms, to pass under oligarchy or despotism.

"Our ancient republicans loved their institutions, not so much in proportion to the amount of happiness and security which they afforded to the mass, as to the share that each individual was allowed to take in the sovereignty of the state. Liberty was for them rather an essential element of life than a source of enjoyment. Public spirit was the mainspring which determined all private exertion. Freedom they understood to be the identification of every citizen with the state. Hence patriotism gradually prevailed over liberty. Every one was vitally interested in the advancement of his country's greatness and power, endangered his life and property, sacrificed his domestic comforts, and even submitted to vexatious and arbitrary laws, whenever the safety of the republic seemed to require it. In their eagerness to assert the supremacy of their native state, they acceded to the concentration of power into one or a few hands, and gave rise to the establishment of oligarchy and despotism. But those patricians and tyrants still constituted the state, and although the sovereignty with which they had been provisionally invested became, in their hands, oppressive and permanent, yet those national governments were looked upon with devotion and pride, as the emanation of popular will and the depositaries of popular power."[17]

---

THE first princely dynasty of Urbino affords examples of most of the phases of mediæval jurisdiction on which we have briefly touched in our introductory remarks.

From the mists of the dark ages which brooded over the mountains of Central Italy, there emerged a race who gradually spread their paltry highland holding over a broad and fair duchy. In the territories earned by their good swords, and their faithful services to the Church, it was their pride to foster the lessons of peace, until their state became the cradle of science, of letters, and of art. The Counts of Montefeltro, a fief long held by imperial grant, gradually established the seigneury over the neighbouring town of Urbino, which thenceforth gave them their title, and in the thirteenth century they received investiture of it from the popes. Invited in 1371 by the people of Cagli to supplant the usurping Ceccardi, and in 1384, by those of Gubbio,[*18] to expel the tyrannical race of the Gabrielli, they were soon recognised as Church-vassals in both. Casteldurante, partially conquered from the Brancaleoni by Count Guidantonio, was erected into a countship in his person by Martin V. in 1433; and his son Federigo obtained by marriage the remaining fiefs of that family, including S. Angelo in Vado, Mercatello, and Massa Trabaria. Fossombrone was bought by the same Federigo in 1445, from Malatesta of Pesaro. Mondaino, Tavoleta, Sassocorbaro, La Pergola, S. Leo, Sant'Agata, and other townships, were wrested at intervals by the Counts of Urbino from their hereditary foes the Malatesta. The ducal house della Rovere owed to papal nepotism the rich endowments of Sinigaglia and Mondavio in 1474, and those of Pesaro, Gradara, and Novilara in 1513.

The state which had thus been by degrees extended over much of Romagna and La Marca constituted the Duchy of Urbino, and received no further increment of territory. It contained seven episcopal cities, a number of smaller towns, and some three or four hundred "castles," by which must be understood fortified villages, for in that land of interminable contests, every hamlet became a stronghold. Penna da Billi was the original capital of Montefeltro. S. Leo, in the same wild and rugged district, was by nature one of the most impregnable fortresses in Italy; yet we shall have to detail its capture by surprise or treachery on three several occasions. Fano, with its small circumjacent territory, though nearly in the middle of the duchy, continued to hold directly of the Church.

The early lords of Montefeltro were raised to the rank of counts of that fief by the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa about 1160, a favour which seems to have long borne fruits in their Ghibelline principles. Their first investiture as Church-vassals was from Honorius III., in 1216, but it was not till towards the close of that century, that we find them designated Counts of Urbino, a title which they used in common with Montefeltro, until the dukedom of Urbino was conferred upon Federigo in 1474.[19] On the death of his son, Duke Guidobaldo, in 1508, the ecclesiastical investitures fell by failure of heirs male; but the dynasty was revived in the person of Francesco Maria della Rovere, who happened to be nephew of Pope Julius II. as well as of the Duke, and who thus founded the second ducal line. With his grandson, Duke Francesco Maria II., the male investiture again ended in 1631; and the days of gross nepotism being past, Urban VIII., who then filled the chair of St. Peter, instead of presenting the lapsed sovereignty to his nephew Cardinal Barberini, incorporated it with the states of the Church, and discharged the claims of consanguinity in modified measure by appointing him the first legate of Urbino and Pesaro.

---

It would be quite foreign to the object of this work were we to pause on a preliminary research into the remote antiquities of the house of Montefeltro. Like many other distinguished Italian genealogical stems, it had attained vigour ere modern history dawned. Nor shall we follow tradition in its mazy attempts to trace the hardy plant from the feeble seedling, which, whether of indigenous growth, or transalpine origin, took root upon the Apennine cliffs of Carpegna. In the twelfth century it put forth three leading branches, distinguished as those of Carpegna, Pietra Robbia, and Monte Copiolo. Whilst the last of these gradually acquired an important sovereignty, and earned undying distinction in Italian history, the eldest, less favoured by energy, talent, or opportunity, forcibly recals the unprofitable servant in the parable. The Counts of Carpegna continued to hold their tiny mountain fief, with its sovereign jurisdiction, in such utter insignificance, that their names gained no note during the centuries of turmoil which passed over them. Their eagle nest sent forth no eagle spirits. After the peace of 1815, the Camera apostolica, anxious to abolish privileges no longer consonant to the altered policy of Europe, bribed the Count with 300,000 scudi (65,000l.) to surrender the entire fief, with all its jurisdictions and immunities, and on the following day disposed of the allodial estates for one-fifteenth of that sum.[20]

It seems admitted that Antonio, the first Lord of Monte Copiolo, or his son Montefeltrano, performed some important services[*21] to the Emperor Frederick Barbarossa, when he visited Italy for his coronation in 1154, and in return for these obtained, among other investitures, the countship of Montefeltro. From thence arose the distinctions, and the Ghibelline principles, which have preserved not a few names of this race in the picturesque pages of mediæval history; but we shall not attempt from these tattered leaves to disentangle their affiliation, or to distinguish their respective deeds of glory. Their extending influence took the direction usual in these days, and Urbino, the nearest township, tempting the ambition of Buonconte, he had the address to procure a double investiture of its sovereignty, from the Emperor Frederick II., and again, in 1216, from Pope Honorius III., by virtue whereof he became both count and vicar of that city. But parchments and bulls were then but imperfect title-deeds, and it was by the sword that they in general fell to be completed. The citizens of Urbino had hearts of oak and frames of iron wherewith to maintain their privilege of self-government, nor was it until after a struggle of nearly twenty years that they submitted to the seigneury of Buonconte. The succeeding century and a half found the Counts of Urbino occupied in ever-recurring struggles with the Church, originating from their Ghibelline policy, and occasionally complicated by the republican aspirations of their citizens. Upon these scenes of petty strife we need not dwell; but one of the race was far too striking a personage to be passed over in silence.

The earliest notice we have of Count Guido, the elder, is in 1268, when the youthful Corradino came into Italy to dispute the crown of Naples with Charles of Anjou. At Pisa he was met by the Ghibellines of Romagna and Tuscany: among them was the Count of Urbino, who obtained some laurels in the subsequent brief campaign, although spared from the crushing reverse at Tagliacozzo, having been left to maintain the imperial interests in Rome, with the title of Senator. In after years he acted as captain-general of the Ghibellines with such energy and judgment, that in 1281 all Romagna was subject to his sway, and he established Forlì as the capital of his new conquests. Martin IV. met the crisis by sending thither Giovanni di Appia, called in the old chronicles Gianni di Pa, one of the most esteemed condottieri of France, to sustain his interests as rector of the Church. The siege of Forlì ensued, where Guido had recourse to one of those stratagems which, to borrow the language of Villani, established his reputation as "a sagacious man, more cunning than any Italian of his time, masterly alike in war and in diplomacy." Gianni having carried Faenza by the treachery of Tribaldello,

"Who op'ed Faenza when the people slept,"

he made similar overtures for the betrayal of Forlì, which were accepted by order of the Count. On a stipulated day, in May, 1282, one of the gates was abandoned to the besiegers, the garrison withdrawing by another port as these entered. Delighted with their bloodless conquest, and deceived by the apparent cordiality of the citizens, the advanced guard threw aside their arms, and committing their horses to the charge of the inhabitants, prepared to enjoy the spoil. Meanwhile Guido, whom they supposed in full retreat, fell upon and dispersed their reserve who were posted in the plain; he then formed his infantry in the position which the enemy had occupied, and reentering the town with a division of cavalry, surprised the captors, who, unprepared for resistance, fled to their rendezvous, where they fell an easy prey to the Ghibellines at the moment they looked for support from their friends. The success of this stratagem equalled its dexterity, and long was the fatal day remembered, which

"Piled in bloody heap the host of France."

The Guelphic party were roused to fresh efforts, though rather of gold than of steel: within a year, Forlì and Meldola had been surrendered to Gianni by their inhabitants, and in 1286, Guido, having made his peace with the Pope, was absolved from excommunication.

But this reconciliation was short-lived. Within three years he merited new censures, by accepting from the Pisans the command of their troops against the Guelphs of Florence and Lucca, along with the seigneury of their republic. Whilst he held that authority, the fearful tragedy of Count Ugolino was perpetrated in the Torre della fame, but we may presume him guiltless of its horrors, since neither the naive narrative of Villani, nor the magnificent episode of Dante, alludes to his name, whilst impugning that cold-blooded murder. Meanwhile the people of Urbino had taken advantage of his absence and embarrassments to rally for their freedom round the papal banner. Wearied of these struggles, and fretting under their penal consequences, he once more humbled himself before his ecclesiastical superior, and obtained absolution in May, 1295.[*22] It was probably the cordial reception which his overtures met from Celestine V., that obtained for that pontiff, after his canonisation, a high degree of devotional repute among the people of Urbino. The romance of most men's lives goes by in youth; that of Count Guido was reserved for his declining years. Embued with the devotional enthusiasm which St. Francis evoked from the mountains of Umbria, he deemed the Pontiff's pardon an inadequate expiation of his accumulated rebellions. Casting aside the gauds of sovereignty, sheathing the sword which he had never drawn but to conquer, he assumed the cord and cowl of the new order, and in the holy cells of Assisi, sought that peace which it had been the aim of his previous life to trouble.

This monastic seclusion, upon which he entered about the close of 1296, was, however, ere long, broken in upon by one of the most remarkable pontiffs that has occupied the chair of St. Peter, whom we must briefly introduce to the reader. Boniface VIII., of the ancient Roman house of Gaetani, was elected in the end of 1294, to supply the vacancy occasioned by the abdication of Celestine V., a visionary anchorite, whom six months' experience had convinced that the triple tiara was a load ill-suited to his brows. His resignation was chiefly brought about by the intrigues of Cardinal Gaetani, of whom Celestine is said to have predicted that he would attain to the papacy by the arts of a fox, rule it with the fury of a lion, and die the death of a dog. Chosen at an age already much exceeding the ordinary span of human life, Boniface wielded his sovereignty with a boldness of will and an energy of purpose rarely found even in the prime of manhood; and dying at eighty-six, he had in nine years shaken the thrones of many monarchs, by pretensions and intrigues untried by his predecessors. It would be foreign to our purpose to trace his career, and to reconcile the various and contradictory estimates of his character: those who wish to glance at the state of this controversy may consult the pages of two recent periodicals, in which the respective views of ultra Romanist and Protestant writers are ably developed.[23]

But to the point which more especially regards our subject, the feuds between Boniface and the house of Colonna. The validity of his election had been early questioned, and was long disputed, on the ground that the rights of his predecessor, as a legally chosen pope, were indefeasible by abdication. Such doubts, it may be well conceived, the fiery spirit of Boniface could ill brook, and upon a rumour that two cardinals, sons of Giovanni Colonna, had been heard to express them, he at once summoned them to his presence to state their opinion upon that delicate point. This was in 1296, after the Pontiff's fierce character had been amply developed by a reign of two years; and these cardinals instantly withdrew from Rome to the strongholds of their family, from whence they issued an answer, respectfully avowing their misgivings as to the matter in question, and offering to submit them to the decision of a general council. But their flight, and the delay of a few days, had been construed by the haughty Vicar of Christ as acts of contumacy; and even before their offensive manifesto reached him, he had directed the thunders of the Church against the two Colonna, visiting on their devoted heads the accumulated offences of all their line, without allowing them an opportunity of explanation or defence. The bull of excommunication proceeds, with more than wonted elaboration of abusive epithets, to designate the obnoxious race, as "detested by their dependants, troublesome to their neighbours, enemies to the community, rebels against the Church, turbulent in the city, fractious to their allies, thankless to their benefactors, unwilling to obey, incapable of command, devoid of humility, agitated by passion, fearless of God, regardless of man." A general proscription of their whole family and adherents, and a sequestration of their vast property, was followed up by the siege of Palestrina, their principal fief. Finding his exertions unequal to the reduction of that fortress, Boniface bethought him of the military experience of the old Ghibelline monk of Montefeltro, and demanded of him counsel, silencing his religious scruples by a preliminary absolution for the sin of reverting to worldly schemes. Thus pressed, Count Guido advised recourse to deceitful promises as the surest means of conquest; and "the bard of hell," who is an authority for this passage in his life, hence consigns him to the doom of an impenitent sinner. But let us hear the poet, through the version of Carey:—

"A man of arms at first; I clothed me then In good Saint Francis' girdle, hoping so To have made amends. And certainly my hope Had failed not, but that he whom curses light on, The high priest, again seduced me into sin; And how and wherefore listen while I tell. Long as the spirit moved the bones and pulp My mother gave me, less my deeds bespake The nature of the lion than the fox: All ways of winding subtlety I knew, And with such art conducted that the sound Reached the world's limit. Soon as to that part Of life I found me come, when each behoves To lower sails and gather in the lines, That which before had pleased me then I rued, And to repentance and confession turned; Wretch that I was, and well it had bested me! The chief of the new Pharisees meantime, Waging his warfare near the Lateran, Not with the Saracens or Jews (his foes All Christians were, nor against Acre one Had fought, nor trafficked in the Soldan's land), He his great charge nor sacred ministry In himself reverenced, nor in me that cord Which used to mark with leanness whom it girded. As in Soracte Constantine besought, To cure his leprosy, Silvester's aid; So me to cure the fever of his pride This man besought. My counsel to that end He asked, and I was silent, for his words Seemed drunken: but forthwith he thus resumed: 'From thy heart banish fear; of all offence I hitherto absolve thee. In return, Teach me my purpose so to execute, That Palestrina cumber earth no more. Heaven, as thou knowest, I have the power to shut And open, and the keys are therefore twain, The which my predecessor meanly prized.' Then yielding to these forceful arguments, And deeming silence yet more perilous, I answered, 'Father, since thou washest me Clear of that guilt wherein I now must fall,— Large promise with performance scant right sure Shall make thee triumph in thy lofty seat.' When I was numbered with the dead, then came Saint Francis for me; but a cherub dark He met, who cried, 'Wrong me not! he is mine, And must below to join the wretched crew, For the deceitful counsel which he gave:' E'er since I've watched him, hovering at his hair. No power can the impenitent absolve, For to repent and will can ne'er consist, By contradiction absolute forbid. Oh misery! how I shook myself when he Seized me and cried, 'Thou haply thoughtst me not A disputant in logic so exact!' To Minos down he bore me, and the judge Twined eight times round his callous back the tail, Which, biting with excess of rage, he spake, 'This is a guilty soul that in the fire Must vanish!' Hence, perdition doomed, I rove, A prey to rankling sorrow in this garb." Carey's Inferno, xxvii.

Such is the passage that has given a celebrity to Count Guido, which neither his prowess nor his alleged treachery could have conferred.[*24] Yet there are not wanting doubts as to the fidelity of this picture of his latter days; indeed, the whole charge against him in the affair of the Colonnas has been considered apocryphal by the apologists of Boniface VIII., and is rejected by Franciscan writers. Villani, whilst confirming the fact that the chiefs of that lawless race were cajoled by the Pontiff into a surrender of "their noble fortress" upon terms which were shamefully violated, drops no hint that Guido was a party to the fraud. Nor is there any reason to suppose his Holiness in want of a prompter, such faithlessness being then in usual practice for political ends, and the old chronicler expressly tells us that the conscience of Boniface was very readily stretched for gain to the Church, under cover of the axiom that the end justified the means. Against these authorities the vision can scarcely be deemed of historic weight, especially as such breach of good faith was, probably, in the eyes of Dante, a less heinous offence than his reconciliation with the Guelphs.[25] Indeed the poet in the Convito ranks him with those noble spirits, "who, when approaching the last haven, lowered the sails of their earthly career, and, laying aside worldly pleasures and wishes, devoted themselves to religion in their old age."[*26] Of the merit or efficacy of such sacrifices at the dread tribunal, it belongs not to erring man dogmatically to judge: for our purpose it is more appropriate to notice the following brief of Boniface to the Franciscan superintendent of La Marca, as remarkable evidence of the devotional zeal which actuated the Count in assuming the monastic vows, and which

"When joy of war and pride of chivalry Languished beneath accumulated years, Had power to draw him from the world."

"Our beloved son, the noble Count Guido of Montefeltro, has repeatedly conveyed to us personally, and through credible informants, his wish, desire, and intention, after communing with his own heart, to end his days in God's service, under the monastic habit, as a means of effacing his sins against Him, and the mother Church of Rome; and this with the full assent of his wife, who is said to be willing to take upon herself the vows of perpetual chastity. We, therefore, commending in the Lord his devotional aspirations, which seemed disposed in all prudence to admit the spirit of counsel, and in order to the more free fulfilment of his vow,—will that his household be paid out of what movables he possesses, and that he assign to his wife from his real estate as much beyond the amount of her dowry as may give her a hundred pounds in Ravenna currency yearly, during her life, a divorce having been first duly pronounced between them, in the form customary and becoming when a vow of chastity has been undertaken. And we further desire that all such personal effects as may remain, after remunerating his attendants, shall be securely deposited, and lie in the hands of responsible persons in the meantime, until we shall come to further resolutions regarding the real and movable property which he now has. And further, as the advanced age of his consort places her beyond suspicion, it is our will that she have leave to remain in her present position, if she cannot be persuaded to a monastic retirement." After conferring on the Superintendent the authority requisite for carrying these resolutions into effect, the Pope concludes by desiring that it be left to the Count's unbiassed decision, whether he will enter one of the military orders, or adopt the more rigid rule of the friars minor of St. Francis. This letter is dated from Anagni the 23rd of August, 1296.[27] The option thus given him in no way shook his intention of conforming to the ascetic rule of "poverty and Francis:" and although his Countess Costanza did not follow his example by assuming the monastic vows, she passed the eight remaining years of her worldly pilgrimage in the not less strict seclusion of Santa Chiara at Urbino, a convent especially favoured by her posterity, and of such rigid discipline that the nuns went barefoot and wore no linen, rising habitually at midnight, and but once a year permitted to approach the grating in order to see their nearest relatives. Her lord's remaining life was of shorter span, as he died at Assisi on the 27th of September, 1298, and is said to have been interred in the church there. That his courage was not unmingled with cunning seems established rather by some incidents in his life than by the bitter lines of the Ghibelline bard; that his piety was shadowed by superstition is a conclusion suggested by the closing scenes of his life, and still more by his most stirring years having bent to the slavish control of astrological quackery to a degree exceeding even the darkness of his age. His zeal founded the family chapel, which may yet be seen in the lower church at Assisi,—its frescoes cruelly defaced; and the devotion of his family was long after specially directed to the service of St. Francis and Santa Chiara.[*28]

During the next century, the pedigree of the Montefeltri, and their feats of arms against rival seigneurs, such as the Brancaleoni, the Malatesti, and the Ceccardi, are involved in confusion which we need not stay to extricate. Heroes they were, but in fields which the wide glance of history has overlooked: they found no Thucydides to depict their gallant deeds, no Froissart to chronicle their fame. Fighting under Ghibelline colours, their victories were followed by papal vengeance, affording a pretext for new risings of their urban subjects, in one of which Count Federigo and his son were torn to pieces about 1322. But though Guelph was then the ordinary watchword of freedom, and though all who desired self-government were wont to rally round the Church, they often found, like the frogs in the fable, that they had gained a worse master. As a specimen of the papal legates of his day, we may mention Guglielmo Durante,[*29] a predicant friar, who presided over the ecclesiastical territories in Romagna, about the beginning of that century, giving his name to a town in the duchy of Urbino which he rebuilt, and which long afterwards became Urbania. His tomb is in the church of the Minerva at Rome, one of those fine monuments where architecture and sculpture unite to perpetuate the dead, and over which mosaic throws the magic of rich colouring. The inscription, after enumerating his legal and liturgical works, thus celebrates the energetic qualities of this mitred warrior: "Savage as a lion against his foes, he tamed indomitable communities, he put church rebels to the sword, and reduced the vanquished to servitude." No wonder that the citizens of Urbino preferred to such pastors a return under their hereditary lords. Nor was Umbria the only theatre of Feltrian prowess. Among the republics, Pisa was as devotedly Ghibelline, as were these counts among the great feudatories. Intimate political relations were the natural result, and the Pisans were seldom without one of that race as their seigneur to maintain the common cause against their Guelphic rivals of Florence and Lucca.

Antonio Count of Montefeltro and Urbino, eighth or ninth in descent from Antonio first Lord of Monte Copiolo. His family having for some years been expatriated, and their state a prey to intestine broils, the harassed citizens recalled him in 1377 as representative of their ancient chiefs; and from that time we can follow with tolerable certainty the generations and history of the Montefeltri. The imperial party in Italy was now reduced to a mere name, fitted rather for a cry of faction than to be the rallying point of international feud. The authority lost by the emperors in Central Italy had passed to the pontiffs, and Count Antonio, emancipating himself from the spell that had bound his race to a falling cause, gave to his posterity an example of loyalty to his over-lord the Pope. He is mentioned in a chronicle of 1384 as introducing certain reforms in the administration of justice, which before publication were submitted for approval by the municipal council of Urbino, and eight years thereafter he put forth various amended statutes and constitutions. His good sense was rewarded by peace at home and acquisitions abroad. Cagli and Gubbio drove out their domestic tyrants the Ceccardi and the Gabrielli, in order to welcome his sway,[*30] and he conquered Cantiano from the latter after a nine years' struggle. Benedict IX. welcomed him as an obedient son of the Church, and established him by new investitures in these towns, as well as in the former holdings of his family.[*31] His bitter strife with the Malatesti was with difficulty appeased by mediation of that Pontiff and of the Venetians. Allied with Florence, Siena, and Milan,[*32] he gained the fame of a gallant captain, whilst his exertions to govern his people with humanity and justice established his reputation as a mild, generous, and benignant prince. His prudence, high counsel, and lofty spirit are lauded in an old chronicle of Forlì;[*33] and a sonnet, inspired by religion rather than poetry, and ascribed to his pen, will be found in the Appendix I.

The death of Count Antonio was announced to the government of Siena by his son, in terms which, exceeding the formal expression of ceremonious regret, afford a pleasing specimen of official intercourse in early times. The original, in rude Latin, is preserved in the Archivio Diplomatico at Siena.

Count Antonio died in April, 1404, and by his wife, a daughter of Ugolino Gonzaga, left,

• 1. Count Guidantonio, his successor.
• 2. Anna, who died unmarried in 1434.[*34]
• 3. Battista.

Upon the last of these sisters we must dwell in some detail, for she was conspicuous among the ladies of high birth, whose acquirements gave illustration to her age. By contemporary authors, her talents and endowments are spoken of in most flattering terms, whilst her character is celebrated for piety and justice, benignity and clemency. She corresponded with many of these writers, and employed her pen in theology and poetry. Among other moral treatises, she is said to have written upon human frailty, and on the true faith. In such exercises she found a resource amid the large share of public and domestic calamities which shadowed her lot. Her marriage was celebrated in 1404, when about twenty-one years of age, with Galeazzo Malatesta, heir of the seigneury of Pesaro, a spiritless creature entirely devoid of the martial qualities of his race, and whose incapacity so disgusted his subjects that, after two years, he was driven out. He subsequently sold his birthright by a transaction which we shall describe in our fifth chapter, and, forsaking his wife, consoled himself in old age with another mate. Battista, with her only child, fled from her rebellious subjects to Urbino, and at the court of her brother found a ready welcome. When the Emperor Sigismund arrived there, on returning from his coronation at Rome in 1433, she was selected to pronounce, in his honour, a Latin harangue, which is published, but now possesses little interest. Her poetic vein had been encouraged by her father-in-law, who, anticipating the literary tastes which prevailed among the Italian princes later in this century, gained the surname of Malatesta degli Sonetti, from his success in that class of compositions. Several of the Italian sonnets and canzoni which passed between them are preserved in manuscript, as well as some of her letters in Latin.[35] Specimens of both are printed in the Appendix No. I., including a letter of Battista written for an interesting purpose. Cleofe, her husband's youngest sister, had married Teodoro, eldest son of an emperor of Constantinople, and despot of the Morea, but this splendid alliance was embittered by persecutions on account of her faith, which at length induced her thus to state the case to Martin V. The result of this appeal does not appear, but the subject of it is believed to have outlived his Holiness about two years.[36]

The ill-starred and virtually widowed lady of Pesaro eventually took the veil, by the name of Sister Gerolima, in the Franciscan convent of Santa Lucia at Foligno, where she died in 1450. Another monastery of the rigorous order of Sta. Chiara, dedicated by her at Pesaro to the Corpus Domini, had in 1443 received her daughter Elisabetta, whose lot was scarcely less unfortunate. Her husband, Pietro Gentile Lord of Camerino, fell a victim in 1433 to fraternal jealousy, leaving an only child Costanza, whom we shall subsequently notice as first wife of Alessandro Sforza, the supplanter of her grandfather in the seigneury of Pesaro, and as mother of Battista Countess of Urbino.

---

COUNT GUIDANTONIO found himself, on his succession, hampered by debts incurred in purchasing another ample investiture in vicariate from Boniface IX., which cost him 12,000 golden florins. But prudence quickly retrieved these embarrassments, and not only enabled him to add materially to his territories and influence, but to raise his house to unprecedented distinction. In 1408, the mountain republic of Assisi sought protection from his sway; and this was approved by Gregory XII., to whom he adhered in opposition to the antipope Benedict XIII.[*37] The disgraceful schisms which at this time agitated Europe, and convulsed the Church, had their influence upon the Count of Urbino, who refused to desert Gregory when he and his rival Benedict were simultaneously deposed by the general council of Pisa, as a means of restoring union and peace to Christendom. Ladislaus of Naples, adopting the same policy, appointed the Count his grand constable, and leader of the war he was carrying on against John XXII., the de facto pope, by whom he was consequently excommunicated. Guidantonio, however, made his peace with the Church in 1413, and was created its gonfaloniere, and vice-general of Romagna; thereafter he was for some time occupied against Braccio di Montone, who carried fire and sword into his territories, on his failing to make good part of the ransom of Carlo Malatesta, for which he had become security.[*38] This Braccio was a fair specimen of Italian captains of adventure. His ancestors were among the magnates of Perugia, which, under the guidance of an oligarchy, had stretched its sway over much of Umbria, extending almost from sea to sea. "But man's estate being ever unstable, when its citizens, indolent by inclination, had thus greatly augmented their dominion and wealth, their pride swelled with their means. They who had vanquished their neighbours, waxing savage in their very vitals, set to conquer each other; hence there arose fierce discords and cruel feuds. Verily the city of Perugia was in those days most liable to changes, for it was alternately governed by the nobles, or seized by the mob; in either case supremacy having been obtained by arms and violence, rather than by equity and moderation, the victors cruelly massacred or exiled their opponents." This quaint description, borrowed from Campano, the biographer of Braccio, was then applicable to almost every city and township of the Peninsula. It was his hero's fate to be expatriated in early life by some such convulsion, and nothing was left him but his good sword, to cut his way therewith as a condottiere, until he established a despotic authority in his birthplace, and won a high place in the martial annals of Italy. Even after his death at the Lake of Celano, his name was during half a century cherished by his followers as the prestige of victory, and we shall often find the Braccian bands, under Nicolò Piccinino, opposed to those of his constant rivals the Sforza.

Cardinal Ottone Colonna, formerly bishop of Urbino, having been raised to the papacy in 1417, by the title of Martin V., Guidantonio lost no time in rendering him homage by an envoy, whom he next year followed in person, meeting the Pontiff at Mantua. His well-timed adhesion was repaid by a life-grant of the dukedom of Spoleto, after which he returned to defend his frontiers from his turbulent neighbour of Montone. On his arrival in Italy in 1419, Martin found his states greatly disorganised, and the temporal sway of the papacy deeply infringed by many seigneurs and communities, who had made themselves independent during the secession to Avignon, and in the prolonged schisms which had succeeded the return of Urban VI. to Rome. None of these had so much reason to dread the reckoning likely to follow the re-establishment of Christ's vicars in their ancient capital as the tyrant of Perugia, who was now at the height of his power. Unable to frustrate the impediments which Braccio threw in the way of his progress southward, the Pontiff paused at Florence, which he entered on the 26th of February; but even there he found a populace in the interest of his rebellious feudatory, and ever ready to outrage him with such taunts as "Martin Pope, not worth a plack."[39] Aware of the hazard of delay, and of the importance of gaining over a spirit so powerful for good or evil, Martin invited Montone to an interview, and found means to conciliate him by a compromise, recognising him as vicar of Perugia, Assisi, Todi, and Jesi, on his surrendering Orvieto, Terni, Narni, and Orte.[*40] He at the same time engaged his military services to reduce Bologna, then standing out for the deposed Pope John XXIII., who, on the fall of that his last stronghold, repaired to Florence to make submission to the reigning Pontiff, and died there in the end of that year.[*41] Martin's difficulties being thus overcome, he was enabled during the autumn to proceed in peace to Rome, and there to re-establish the metropolis of Christendom.

The Pope had availed himself of Braccio's visit to Florence to call thither the Count of Urbino, in order to effect a reconciliation between these rivals. Guidantonio, on this occasion, had from the magistracy of that city, as well as from his own over-lord, a highly honourable welcome, and in March, 1420, received, at the hands of his Holiness, the Golden Rose, a compliment usually conferred upon royalty.[*42] Three years later, he found himself widowed by the death of Rengarda, daughter of Galeotto Malatesta, Lord of Rimini, whom he had married in 1397, and who left him childless. After an interval, he strengthened his intimate relations with the Pontiff, by marrying Caterina, daughter of his brother Lorenzo Colonna, an alliance which secured him a series of further favours, in addition to a dowry of 5200 florins of gold. The nuptials were celebrated at Rome with great rejoicings, in the spring of 1424.[*43]

The house of Urbino had hereditary feuds of long standing with the Brancaleoni, a race of Guelphic principles, whose fiefs lay along the Apennines from Gubbio to Montefeltro, including all Massa Trabaria and the upper valley of the Metauro. Their recurring contests ended in a victory, or were compromised by a marriage, from which the former were usually the gainers. Upon pretences which it is needless amid conflicting statements to investigate, and assured of the Pontiff's support, Guidantonio had seized upon Castle Durante and other fortresses in 1424, and on the death of Bartolomeo Brancaleoni, leaving only a daughter,[*44] he arranged her marriage with his natural son Federico, whose fortunes we shall hereafter have to follow. The large territory thus absolutely or virtually placed under the Count continued with his posterity so long as the independence of Urbino was preserved.

To the impression which Guidantonio had made on his visit to Florence some ten years before he probably owed the baton of captain-general, sent him in the autumn of 1430 by that republic in their campaign against Lucca. But there he reaped no laurels. In an engagement fought in the face of his protestations, he suffered from Nicolò Piccinino a total discomfiture, and, throwing up the command in disgust, he returned home early next year. About the same time his prosperity received a further check in the demise of his steady friend the Pontiff, who lived to see the schism that had perplexed the Church during half a century finally healed by the death of all his competitors for the chair of St. Peter. The triple tiara passed to the brows of Eugene IV., who visited Martin's undue partiality for his own family the Colonna, by escheats which they flew to arms to avenge. The Lord of Urbino, naturally leaning to the party of his wife's relations, lost the Pontiff's favour; but he gained a well-wisher in the Emperor Sigismund, who, while returning to Germany from his coronation at Rome, was magnificently entertained at that court, and conferred the honour of knighthood upon his host and the young Count Oddantonio.

The death of Countess Caterina, on the 9th of October, 1438, seems to have in a great degree broken the fine spirit of her husband, who immediately retired to pass ten days in devotional exercises at Loretto, and thenceforward devolved all his military cares upon his natural son Federigo. His few remaining years were given to pious works, to which the cathedral of Urbino and the church of San Donato, both founded in 1439, bear witness; and he is said to have then habitually worn, under his ordinary dress, the habit of St. Francis, in which he was interred. His death took place on the 20th of February, 1442,[*45] and he was buried in San Donato, where his cowled effigy is still seen on the pavement, his spurs of knighthood hanging from his sheathed sword-hilt, with a barbarous inscription, which will be found in the Appendix to our third volume.

On the demise of this prince, who has been sometimes confused with Count Guido the elder, "the city of Urbino was," in the simple words of an old chronicle, "left widowed and desolate." Of his character and merits, whatever has reached us is favourable. The doggerel verses of his epitaph celebrate his clemency and justice; his religion was manifested by the tenor of his latter years, the general respect of his contemporaries honoured him through life, and he left behind him an extended frontier and a condensed state. His surviving children were—

• 1. Oddantonio, his successor, born in 1426.

• 2. Bianca, married to Guidantonio or Guidaccio Manfredi, Lord of Faenza and Imola, who had been brought up at her father's court.

• 3. Violante, who was born in 1430, and at twelve years of age, married Domenico Malatesta Novello, Lord of Cesena. She was remarkable alike for talent and beauty; and her husband, who died childless in 1465, left a fine monument of his literary tastes, in the public library which remains in that city.

• 4. Agnesina, born in 1431, who in 1445 married Alessandro Gonzaga, Lord of Castiglione, a younger son of the first Marquis of Mantua.

• 5. Brigida Sueva.[46]

Count Guidantonio also left two natural children:

• 1. Federigo, afterwards Duke of Urbino;

• 2. Anna, Aura, or Laura, married in 1420 to Bernardino Ubaldino della Carda, although by some authorities his wife is incorrectly called sister of Count Guidantonio.[47]

Count Oddantonio from infancy gave promise of a character combining the virtues of his immediate predecessors with talents rare in any rank. But prematurely

"Lord of himself, that heritage of woe,"

the good seed was choked by tares springing from the too fertile soil; and a prince on whom nature and fortune, imperial and papal favour, concentrated their bounties, perished miserably and disgracefully ere he had attained to manhood. His birth occurred in 1424 or 1426,[*48] his youth being distinguished by remarkable progress in liberal studies, and by rapidly mastering those accomplishments befitting the spurs of knighthood, with which he had been decorated in childhood by the Emperor Sigismund. Soon after his father's death, he repaired to Siena, to obtain from Eugene IV. a confirmation of his hereditary states, and to supplicate a renewed investiture of the dukedom of Spoleto. But the pontifical jurisdiction over the long-abandoned Italian provinces was as yet imperfectly consolidated, and Braccio di Montone had but recently shown to what peril it might be exposed by the restlessness of an overgrown feudatory. Profiting by this experience, his Holiness evaded compliance with Oddantonio's second request, but softened the refusal by conferring upon him the title of Duke, along with his patrimonial territories.

We have from the pen of Pius II. a narrative of this ceremonial, which took place on the 26th of April, 1443. "He who was to be created duke by the Pope repaired to his residence, suitably dressed, and arrayed in a mantle of gold, open on the right side from the shoulder to the ground. Thence he followed the Pontiff, holding the lower extremity of his cope, as he descended to the [cathedral] church to hear mass, and when his Holiness took his seat, he placed himself on the first step at his feet. Next he was made a knight of St. Peter, by girding him with a sword (which after three lunges in the air he resheathed) and by receiving three strokes with it on the shoulders, whilst his spurs were buckled on. The Duke-elect then kneeling, swore and promised reverence and obedience in time to come to the holy Church and to the Pope, serving him in all its behests, and defending his jurisdiction, rights, and territories, and bound himself to pay yearly on St. Peter's day, for his new dignity, a white hackney suitably accoutred. The Pontiff then placed the ducal cap on his head, and the sceptre in his hand, and the new Duke, having therewith kissed his Holiness's foot, was led by the two youngest cardinal-deacons to his place between them. Finally, having taken off his cap, he returned to the Pope's feet, and presented him with an offering of gold coin at his discretion, and, on conclusion of the mass, departed between the two cardinals, decorated with the ducal dignity: this was the ceremony performed by Eugene IV. for Oddantonio."

This Duke's brief life is shrouded in mystery; for contemporary authorities do not enable us to pronounce with certainty on the enormous vices wherewith tradition and innuendo have vaguely blackened his memory, whilst the narratives of Galli and Baldi, composed for his successors in a spirit of adulation rather than of truth, clearly overplead his defence. The testimony of Pius II. is so direct as to one atrocity, barbarous almost beyond belief, that it would be equally difficult to reject it, or crediting the tale, to limit the probable enormities of a wretch so inhuman. The accusations against him are that, intoxicated by good fortune, he cast off his early discipline, forgot the lessons of philosophy, and placing himself unreservedly in the guidance of dissolute favourites, dismayed his subjects by outrages the most licentious, and by cruelties the most revolting. The instance mentioned by Pius II. is that he had one of his pages, who had neglected to provide lights at the proper hour, enveloped in sear-cloth coated with combustibles, and then setting fire to his head, left him to the horrors of a lingering agony.

The account transmitted to us by his apologists mingles pity with our blame. They say that, desirous of suitably regulating his government, he listened to the silver-toned suggestions of his crafty and covetous neighbour, the Lord of Rimini, by whose advice he employed, as confidential ministers, Manfredi Pio da Carpi, and Tomaso Agnello da Rimini, men selected by Sigismondo as fitting instruments for his ruin. That, acting upon the instructions of their principal, these agents by precept and example debased the mind and corrupted the morals of the young prince, with the view of rendering his person and rule odious, and of accelerating a popular revolution, which might peril his life, or, at least, place his territories within the grasp of Malatesta. That in prosecution of this diabolical plot, they promoted loathsome orgies and shameless debaucheries, until the leading citizens, indignant at the dishonour which daily violated their domestic circles, rose at the instigation of Serafius, a physician whose handsome wife had been seduced by Manfredi. In the riot which followed, the two favourites and their master met a tragical end, and their bodies were exposed to nameless atrocities; but whether the popular vengeance was equally merited by, and inflicted upon the three, or whether the Duke was accidentally slain without being involved in these disgraceful malpractices, is a point likely to remain at issue. It would seem probable, however, from this passage of an old chronicle transcribed in the Oliveriana Library, that political discontent had a part in the rising: "On the 22nd of July, 1444, at lauds [three o'clock a.m.], Oddantonio was slain in his own hall, and along with him his familiar servants Manfredo de' Pii and Tomaso da Rimini; and forthwith the people of Urbino in one voice called for Signor Federigo, who at once took possession of the state. On the 1st of August, public proclamation was made of the abolition of imposts and of the assize of salt, and all penalties were remitted."[*49] The same writer speaks vaguely of previous intestine broils, slaughters, and alarms, with other symptoms of feeble government, all indicating considerable disorganisation in the duchy, of which the Malatesta and Bartolomeo Colleone availed themselves to harass its frontiers.[50]

There were tinges of peculiar sadness in the gloomy fate which thus overtook this unhappy youth. In the preceding summer he had been betrothed to Isotta, daughter of Nicolò Marquis of Ferrara, and but three months before his death, had attended the nuptials of her brother Leonello. On that occasion he spent fifteen days in joyous excitement, preluding, as he hoped, similar festivities in his own honour. After the piazza of Ferrara had glittered with a gallant show of chivalrous exercises, and had witnessed the semi-religious pageant of St. George's triumph over the dragon, it was, as if by magic, converted into a forest-scene, studded with goodly oaks amid a thick jungle of underwood, the haunt of numerous wild animals. Upon these the sportsmen wrought their pleasure, until the place was strewed with bodies of bullocks, steers, wild boars, and goats. As a test of the attendant good cheer, we have a return of provender consumed, amounting to 2000 oxen, 40,000 pairs of fowls, pheasants and pigeons without number, 20,000 measures of wine, and 2000 moggie of grain, besides 15,000 pounds of sweetmeats, and 12,000 of wax candles.[51] On the conclusion of festivities congenial to his tastes, but ill-suited to his impending fate, the young Duke lingered in dalliance with his bride, returning home only the eve of the fatal night which summoned him

"From that unrest which men miscal delight."

It remains doubtful whether his own marriage was ever completed, as supposed by Litta, but Isotta's cup was fully charged with bitters. During the festive celebration of her after nuptials with one of the Frangipani, the partner and lover of her maid of honour fell dead in the dance, an evil omen too fully realised in domestic dissensions which soon sent her back to her brother's court.

The Duke was buried in the church of S. Francesco, but his remains are said to have been subsequently removed to the chapter-house of that convent. In a neglected cloister leading from the church, there may still be seen two monuments bearing the Montefeltro arms, one of which, canopied by light columns of spiral Gothic, has a stork, holding in its mouth a scroll.[*52] Here probably was the ill-fated Oddantonio's tomb; the nameless dead to whom the other was dedicated may have been his grandfather, Count Antonio, or the Countess Rengarda, both of whom were interred in these precincts, where their graves were opened and identified in 1634.

There is little inducement to dwell on the few notices remaining of one whose character and fate merit no sympathy. Yet among a rich store of letters from the Montefeltrian princes to the government of Siena, we have selected two written by Oddantonio in Italian; one is characteristic, the other calculated to throw a more favourable light upon his disposition.

---

It does not distinctly appear whether the dignity of Duke was merely personal, or limited to the heirs male of Oddantonio's body. At all events it must have lapsed on his death, as it was not only dropped by his successor in the state, but Count Federigo, even after his new creation, called himself "first" Duke; in this he was followed by his descendants down to Francesco Maria II., the last of the race, who alone designated himself sixth Duke, counting from Oddantonio.[*54]

---

---

WITH Federigo, successor of Duke Oddantonio, commences the proper subject of these volumes, but we are met by a preliminary difficulty as to his birth and parentage, which has baffled many of his biographers. It would be useless, as well as tedious, to enumerate and examine the host of conflicting and often inconsistent authorities on this vexed question.[55] The amount of blundering and contradiction to which it has given rise is scarcely conceivable, considering that most of our authorities either frequented the court of Urbino during his own and his son's time, or had access to contemporary documents. Seven separate theories have found supporters:—1. That Federigo was son of Count Guidantonio, born in wedlock; 2. That he was his natural, but legitimated son; 3. That he was his natural son, passed off as the child of his first wife Rengarda, after a pretended pregnancy; 4. That he was son of Bernardino della Carda and his wife Anna, sister of Count Guidantonio, adopted by the latter whilst he had no son; 5. That he was their son, passed off as the child of Countess Rengarda; 6. That he was their son, passed off as a natural child of Guidantonio; 7. That being their son, and Anna or Aura being daughter of Guidantonio, he was adopted or passed off as son of the latter, though, in fact, his grandson.[56] It would follow that he might have been either nephew, brother-in-law, or son of Bernardino. All doubt on this subject is set at rest by a formal legitimation from Martin V., of 22nd December, 1424, which I discovered in the Archivio Diplomatico at Florence, in favour of Federigo, as son of Guidantonio by a maiden of Urbino. This document is alluded to by Galli, Reposati, and others; but its existence has been often denied, notwithstanding the almost equally valid evidence of that Count's testament quoted by Riposati, wherein, failing his lawful sons, he substitutes his "legitimate son" Federigo as his universal heir.

It is very remarkable that the filiation of Federigo to the Ubaldini is adopted by a majority of those writers who lived under him and his son, giving colour to a conjecture that it may have been encouraged at their court as masking the flaw in their pedigree. This, however, is but an unsatisfactory explanation. His character and brilliant distinctions could well dispense with the honours of birth; and in this century, bastardy, so far from inferring a blot on the princely escutcheons of Italy, or presenting a bar to sovereignty, seemed, as in the dynasties of Este and Scala, as well as in the Malatesta, already referred to, to constitute a preference. But in order to explain his special affection for the Ubaldini, it has been supposed that his mother was of that stock, and that he was at first brought up by them, in deference to the jealousy of Countess Rengarda. This motive soon ceased by her death, when the infant was received and cherished in his father's palace.

---

Federigo di Montefeltro is generally said to have been born on the 7th of June, 1422, and the earliest incident of his childhood was his premature betrothal.[*57] The mountain-land from whence spring the Metauro and the Foglia, including some of the loftiest Apennine summits, was then called Massa Trabaria, and had been long held in fief by the Brancaleoni. Mercatello was the petty metropolis of some twenty townlets which obeyed Bartolomeo, the last male of that race. Art has given to his merits a record withheld by history, and the few travellers who visit the church of S. Francesco in that town, a very shrine of local æsthetics, will pause to admire his Gothic tomb, beautiful even through its disguise of recent whitewash, and to read this touching epitaph:—"Joanna Aledusia during her life erected this monument of affection to Bartolomeo Brancaleone, prince of this place, her most faithful husband, and to herself." This lady was born an Alidosio of Imola, and being left with an only daughter, Martin V., to whom the fief had lapsed, conferred its interim administration upon Count Guidantonio of Urbino, as rector, with promise of a new investiture to his son Federigo, on condition of his marriage with the orphaned Gentile. They were accordingly affianced ere the boy-bridegroom had completed his eighth year, and the spouses were brought up together under the fond and judicious tutelage of the Lady Joanna.

---

The return of the popes to Rome was the beginning of a new act in the great drama of Italian mediæval history. Deserting their proper capital, they had left it for above a century a prey to faction, strife, and rapine, which there was no authority to control, nor any holier influence to modify. The example of such disorganisation spread through the Peninsula, and aggravated dissension in all its cities. In absence of the papal court, the gloom of a dark age again brooded over the ecclesiastical states, for the few sparks of learning had been carried by emigrant churchmen to Provence. But, with its restoration, Rome became once more the metropolis of Christendom, and Italy began to feel that kindling glow, which, radiating from its centre, disseminated the cheering light and healthful flush of knowledge and civilisation over the globe. In one respect, however, and that a material one, was the position of the papacy altered. The protracted scandal of recent repeated schisms had shaken men's reliance on its infallibility; the fierce bickerings between popes and anti-popes, hurling anathemas and bandying abuse, had raised in the spectators a doubt if their cause could be more sacred than their weapons. The days when an emperor would hold the stirrup for a successor of St. Peter were passed away. Nor were affairs altogether satisfactory as regarded the domestic security of the latter. The dread of again losing their sovereign court formed a convenient check upon the factious citizens of Rome; but the barons of the Campagna were restless neighbours and turbulent vassals, and though the Gaetani and Frangipani were no longer formidable, the Savelli, the Orsini, and the Colonna by turns carried fire and sword into each other's holdings, or scoured the streets of Rome itself in their forays. To assert an effectual jurisdiction over the province immediately surrounding their capital, and to maintain their waning influence abroad, became the two great objects of successive pontiffs during the fifteenth century: one of these was perhaps a painful necessity, the other originated a policy ruinous to Italy; both occasioned frequent appeals to carnal weapons, pregnant with mischief to the Holy See.

Among many anomalies in the papacy, was the inverse ratio of its foreign influence and its domestic strength. Even whilst Rome and its vicinity had been most lawless, whilst the authority of popes in preceding centuries had been most fettered by faction, or most exposed to seditious outrage, their spiritual sway attained its height, and was acknowledged over Christendom without question. The reason is obvious. The religious spirit of the age bowed to ecclesiastical domination, while the factious temperament of the Romans fretted under all restraints of order. After their long exemption from the personal control of the popes, it became more than ever requisite to curb these feverish citizens, and to break down their robber noblesse: we shall hereafter see by what unscrupulous means, and at how great a sacrifice of character, this was finally effected by Alexander VI. But the popedom, whose unity had been rudely shaken by schism and absence, began, after its return to Rome, to suffer manifest inroads from the extension of their political individualities by the chief states of Europe. In order to maintain itself against this new tendency, it had recourse to a like policy; it sought by temporal aggrandisement to compensate the decay of spiritual authority. During its antecedent struggles with the empire, the cause of the Church had been that of freedom, its rallying cry the watchword of liberty. In those days its successes were hailed as a boon by the communes of Italy. Even the feudatories, whose jurisdiction had grown up under shelter of the imperial name, were glad to confirm their title by enrolling themselves as vassals of the Holy See. But when the successors of St. Peter began to develop ulterior aims,—when they descended into the arena of mere political ambition, and sought to aggrandise their territorial dominion by intrigue and arms,—a marked reaction took place. The princes and republics of the Peninsula stood on their defence against a new power of discord, the most fickle in its policy, the most unscrupulous in its expedients, that they had yet been called to resist. The ultra-montane nations pressed on to cope with or to conquer those degenerate Vicars of Christ, who, abandoning their high calling as shepherds and pacificators of Christendom, became its perturbators.

The rapid sketch which we have given in our first chapter of the seigneuries and communities of Central Italy may suffice to exhibit the general condition of Umbria, the March of Ancona, and Romagna as far as the Po. In Tuscany, democratic institutions had taken deeper root, among a population addicted rather to arts than to arms, and preferring wealth earned by industry and commercial enterprise to the precarious glory and profits of the sword. Their peaceful habits permitted capital to accumulate; its increase gave them a stake in its security; leisure and consequent intelligence enabled them to mature ideas of liberty beyond those of neighbouring states. It was in Florence especially that a more perfect system of municipal institutions established communal freedom upon a firmer basis, which, amid the ceaseless convulsions of domestic factions, and even through the long atrophy of later Medicean domination, has preserved for that city a political and intellectual pre-eminence, finely acknowledged by old Sanzi in his exclamation,

"For to curtail fair Florence of her freedom, Were to pluck forth an eye from Italy, And cause her orb to wane."

In the adjacent commonwealths of Pisa, Lucca, and Siena, similar results sprang from somewhat analogous causes, although they were from time to time, in the words of Dante,

"O'erthronged With tyrants, and a great Marcellus made Of any petty factious villager,"

until, by degrees encroached on by their more powerful neighbour, they were finally absorbed in the state which owned the Arno's queen as its capital.[*58]

Lombardy was no longer the emporium whence commercial wealth circulated over Europe, but her cities, surrounded by plains of unequalled fertility, gave no signs of decay, her universities were crowded by transalpine students. She had fully realised the stinging reproaches of Alighieri,—

"Thy living ones In thee abide not without war, and one Malicious gnaws another, ay, of those Whom the same wall and the same moat contain;"

but her Ezzelino and Can della Scala were no more, and many of her petty principalities had been merged in the wide-spreading duchy of Milan, or the mainland conquests of Venice. The Lion of St. Mark was in the ascendant during the fifteenth century, and, though we have no occasion to follow the fleets of Venice as they spread terror among the Turks, we shall in due time find her terra-firma policy complicating the relations and hampering the diplomacy of Italy. Naples, long exposed to the calamities of a disputed succession, which we shall hereafter explain, endured the feeble sway of the notorious Joanna II., by whose death in February, 1435, the crown passed to Alfonso V.,—notwithstanding her death-bed recognition of the claims of the first Angevine dynasty, then represented by the good King René of Provence,—and the dynasty of Aragon was continued by his illegitimate descendants until the close of this century.

Having thus endeavoured in a few pages to exhibit the condition of those Italian states with which our narrative will have to do during the life of Federigo, we must resume its interrupted thread. Martin V. was succeeded in 1431 by Eugene IV., a noble of Venice, who, eager to undo the favours bestowed by Martin on his own relations, sought a quarrel with the Colonna and their adherents, including the Count of Urbino. This misunderstanding was patched up by mediation of the Venetian signory, upon an interchange of hostages, among whom was included Federigo. It thus became necessary for him to repair to Venice, where he was received in the college or council, and acquitted himself so well that the Doge, Francesco Foscari, foretold his rise to great eminence in after life. The favourable opinion thus formed was daily confirmed by his engaging manners, and he conciliated the noble youths, who admitted him into their fashionable and very select club or fraternity of the calze, or hose, so called from their uniform.[59] The plague having appeared, he was permitted by the Doge, after a residence of fifteen months, to retire to the court of Mantua, then presided over by the Marquis Gian Francesco Gonzaga, whose marriage with a Malatesta connected him with both the wives of our Count Guidantonio. His welcome there was cordial and distinguished, and during two years he enjoyed advantages which beneficially influenced his after life. In the Marquis's children he found fellow-pupils as well as playmates, and, under their father's eye, was taught the theory of war and the practice of military exercises, until he became one of the most skilful swordsmen and equestrians of his day.

But it was to the tuition of Vittorino de' Rambaldoni da Feltre[*60] that we may ascribe his progress in those tastes and accomplishments, for which in his person and that of his son, Urbino became eminent. This Vittorino was excelled in learning by few of his contemporaries, and none of them equalled his reputation as an instructor of youth. He was born at Feltre in 1378, and sent to the university of Padua. After completing, under Giovanni da Ravenna, the training in grammar, dialectics, and philosophy which then constituted the basis of a liberal education, he learned Greek from the famous Guarino of Verona. His powerful mind being attracted to mathematics, and finding his means unable to command the instructions of Pelacane of Parma, he proffered the most menial services about his person, in hopes of picking up some crumbs of knowledge in his service. But the mercenary professor was not to be melted without gold, and the poor student was left to struggle unaided with the difficulties of exact science, until he thoroughly mastered its truths. It was in 1425 that the Marquis of Mantua induced him to move, with his already celebrated school, to that capital, for the purpose of teaching his children. The lessons of Vittorino were well bestowed on the young princes of Gonzaga, but especially on their sister Cecilia, whose name is not least remarkable among those prodigies of female learning produced in the Italian courts of that age. When but ten years old she wrote Greek with singular purity, and her life of celibacy was devoted to literature.

The peculiarity of Vittorino's system was its extending the field of his labours beyond the mere scholastic tuition of his time. Without neglecting the severer studies, he varied them by light accomplishments, and relaxations of person and mind which proved alike healthful to both, such as music and drawing, horsemanship, fencing, and all manly exercises. Its success was testified by an influx of pupils from transalpine and oriental lands, as well as from every state in Italy. These for the most part resided in his house, under the immediate influence of his training and example, which were not less admirably calculated for inculcating high moral excellence, than for the development and direction of genius. A man of more simple tastes, winning manners, and pure life was rarely found, and, by a happy blending of rigid discipline with mild temper, his influence was beneficially extended over even the least ductile of his flock. At his board, the rich acquired habits of frugality, the poor were welcomed with generous consideration. Careless of worldly gain, his earnings were freely spent in providing for their wants, and at his death in 1447, he left not enough for his funeral. No work remains from his pen, but he has given ample proof of his influence on the age, in the eminent names that issued from his academy, to illustrate Italian letters, either as sovereigns or savants. A beautiful and rare medal of him by Pisanello presents a fine allegory: the pelican baring its bosom to feed its little ones happily suggests the unwearying self-sacrifices of a conscientious instructor, whilst the legend designates him as father of all human studies. Sanzi's tribute to his character is at once happy and just:—

"Brilliant his powers of thought, unmatched his zeal, For science in her varied walks: his life And manners holy; yet on gentle crafts And joyous themes right heartily intent."

In the autumn of 1432, the Emperor Sigismund, while returning from his coronation at Rome, was entertained by Count Guidantonio with magnificent hospitalities at Gubbio[*61] and Urbino, and bestowed knighthood both on the Count and his son Oddantonio.[*62] On reaching Mantua, he conferred the like honour on the Gonzaga princes, and extended it to their guest the young Federigo, who was recalled home whenever his father had been restored to a good intelligence with the Pontiff. His marriage was celebrated on the 2nd of December, 1437, after he had completed his fifteenth year, and he at once entered upon the government of his wife's paternal fief.

In an age when society consisted of those who fought, those who wrought, and those who prayed, the young Count of Mercatello belonged to the first of these classes, and the duty now devolved upon him of carrying into practice those lessons of warfare which had varied the routine of his more abstruse studies. Under the military system which we have already explained, he had to choose what free captain he would serve with, until experience should qualify him to raise an independent banner. The condottieri then of greatest name were Nicolò Piccinino and Francesco Sforza, names which will soon be familiar to our pages. The first of these was of birth so humble as to own no other surname than that conferred on him in ridicule of his tiny stature, and appears to have been equally destitute of those varied talents and enlarged views which enabled several of his contemporaries to consolidate and transmit the power gained by their swords. But though unworthy of historic fame,[*63] his dwarfish body contained a daring and indomitable spirit, which, after considerable service under Braccio di Montone, the first general of his age, was rewarded with the hand of his niece; and, notwithstanding the blame of occasioning his defeat and death at the Lake of Celano in 1424, Nicolò kept together his veterans, obtaining, as leader of that gallant band, a reputation of which his own qualities were unworthy. Yet he was unable to cope with Francesco Sforza, whose first service had been under Joanna II. of Naples, but who after having, in 1441, won from Filippo Maria Visconti, rather by fear than favour, the hand of his natural daughter Bianca Maria,[*64] eventually established himself as his successor in the duchy of Milan.

The Council of Basle, opened in July, 1431, to concert measures for extirpation of the Bohemian heresy, had occupied itself in reforming alleged abuses in the Church and the papal prerogatives. A collision with Eugene IV. was the natural result, when he fled to Florence, leaving his state a prey to Sforza, Piccinino, the Colonna, and other military adventurers. As the best means of bridling these bandits, he bribed the first of them to turn his arms against the others, by offering him the vicariate of La Marca,

"That land Which lies between Romagna, and the realm Of Charles."[65]

But by degrees all Italy was involved in the struggle, Alfonso of Naples, the Florentines, Genoese, and eventually the Venetians, supporting the Pontiff, whilst Filippo Maria Visconti, the Angevine party at Naples, and the city of Bologna sided with the Council. In this war Piccinino led the Milanese army, and among his independent captains was Bernardino della Carda, who dying in 1437, his company of 800 men-at-arms was divided between his son Ottaviano and the young Federigo di Montefeltro. In the end of May, 1438, the latter set out for Piccinino's camp, assisting at the siege of Brescia, and in the opening of the Lombard war, where the rival generalship of Nicolò and Sforza was first brought to the test, with results more interesting in a military than an historical view. It is not to be supposed that services performed by so youthful a soldier could much influence the campaign, but they appear to have been approved by his commander.

Guidantonio Manfredi, generally known by the contemptuous abbreviation of Guidaccio, had been brought up at the court of Urbino, during his father's temporary banishment from his hereditary fief of Faenza, and had married a daughter of Count Guidantonio di Montefeltro. In the division of parties which we have just explained, both these feudatories adhered to the Milanese, but as their neighbour, the Lord of Rimini, was at first a partisan of the league, and as Bologna had but recently thrown off the papal authority, Filippo Maria considered it advisable to strengthen his forces in Romagna. Federigo was accordingly ordered to join his brother-in-law Guidaccio, and acquitted himself creditably in various skirmishes with the Tuscan troops, under Gianpaolo Orsini. The only personal incident preserved of this petty war is one to which he was in the habit of alluding, with something of the superstitious dread that pervades the good Sanzi's account of it, although its character was rather grotesque than horrible. Having marched from Faenza in bright moonlight, with a party of 400 horse on a foraging expedition, a noise like the clashing of arms was suddenly heard at a distance, which immediately being repeated close at hand, the troops, with fierce and terrified aspect, rushed on each other, and for about ten minutes fought and struggled pell-mell, while their frightened horses, partaking in the panic, neighed and bolted in all directions. Dawn discovered a scene of strange confusion; the infantry mounted, the cavalry on foot, many lying wounded on the ground, not a few horses killed, others with broken or disordered harness. This senseless alarm was never accounted for, and was consequently ascribed to diabolical influence.

But he was soon recalled by home interests from under the command of Guidaccio. The Malatesta, whose descent will be found in the annexed table, had for some generations held several fiefs in Romagna and the March of Ancona, and although a bold and warlike race, the usage in their family of separating its seigneuries among various sons, legitimate or natural, prevented any of them from acquiring more than a provincial reputation or influence, until Sigismondo Pandolfo made himself famous by his struggle with Count Federigo, and by the memorials of art which embalm his otherwise detested name. The youngest of three bastard brothers,[*66] he survived to unite their territories with his own, and although connected with the Montefeltrian princes by the marriages of his aunt and brother, he became a bitter enemy to the Count of Urbino. Indeed the latter of these alliances, which we have noticed at page 48, served to foster the family feud. Violante di Montefeltro had from Eugene IV. in 1431, when a mere infant, some form of grant of her native mountain-land in vicariate, in virtue whereof, and of her assumed rights as heiress of her nephew Duke Oddantonio, in default of his male issue, a pretended title was eventually trumped up, in competition with Federigo's succession,[67] at all events as regarded Montefeltro, some townships of which had already passed in various ways to the Malatesta, with whom she intermarried. An incursion upon the territory of Guidantonio, in the autumn of 1439, accordingly commenced a strife which, with occasional brief interludes, endured above twenty years, and which Sanzi thus deplores:—

"For e'en when fortune crowns the first essays Of reckless hardihood, a reckoning hour Of rapine, grief, and misery impend. Such the destruction which these rival powers Reaped from protracted broils and savage war, While neighbouring cities, castles, towns, were sacked, And high-born chiefs the double risk incurred Of death or exile. There, for twice twelve years, Italia's flower and might contended, till, in fine, To right, by prudence, constancy, and force upheld, Heaven gave success; the Eagle gnawed the heart Of the great Elephant."[68]

Had Sigismondo Pandolfo possessed temper and judgment equal to his courage and ambition, he might have obtained and consolidated a powerful sovereignty, which his liberal and cultivated tastes would have rendered glorious in arts as well as arms. But deeply tainted with—

"That poison foule of bubbling pride,"

his lofty daring was sustained by no continuous impulse, his impetuous efforts were crowned by no success; the selfishness of his political aims was equalled by the vainglorious direction he gave to art; his energies were wasted in contests with Federigo, a rival against whom he had neither any just quarrel, nor any chance of success; his patronage was monopolised by poets who flattered, and medalists who portrayed himself and his favourite mistress Isotta.

The first foray of Sigismondo into the wild valleys of Montefeltro was repaid by Federigo, in a successful descent upon the richer possessions of the Malatesta; but he was checked by a serious wound, before the petty fortress of Campi, and on his recovery rejoined Guidaccio. Piccinino, having again changed the seat of war from Lombardy to Romagna, crossed into Tuscany, and during the summer of 1440, carried on an active but unsuccessful campaign in the upper valley of the Tiber, till it was closed by his complete defeat at Anghiari, leaving his baggage and half his army in the hands of the Florentines. This battle has obtained a singular notoriety, and affords a valuable test of condottiere tactics, where combats were interested calculations, not internecine onsets. Machiavelli, the opponent of that system, asserts that only one man lost his life, out of some thirty or forty thousand combatants, and he by a fall from his horse; whilst the largest calculation of slaughter on both sides gives but seventy killed and six hundred wounded. Federigo was little interested in that campaign, but ere long found occupation in the defence of his wife's rights, disputed by Alberigo di Brancaleone. This pretender had seized on Santa Croce and Montelocco, both of which the Count recovered in the autumn of 1442, after a severe action, which first tested his military skill. Sigismondo Pandolfo, having secretly abetted this onset, was punished by an attack upon S. Leo.

That small city was the capital of Montefeltro, although this honour has been claimed for Penna di Billi. Its situation is perhaps the most singular in Europe. In a country whose rugged mountains and precipitous ravines seem monuments of some tremendous primeval convulsion, there stand uptossed two isolated pinnacles, the very obelisks of nature, rising on three sides sheer from the valley. On the remaining side of each, a narrow and rapidly descending ridge connects the summit with the surrounding level, affording toilsome and precarious footing to mules and mountaineers. On either peak, a fortress commands a cluster of dwellings, nestled wherever the rocky crest afforded footing, and inhabited by men of iron hearts and stout sinews. The larger of these is S. Leo, the smaller Maiuolo, and we shall often have occasion to mention them as the chief strongholds of Montefeltro, to which they both originally belonged,[*69] though S. Leo had for some time been possessed by the Malatesta. Its loftiest pinnacle was crowned, in classic times, by a temple dedicated to Jupiter Feretrius, affording an easy etymology for Montefeltro: a later era found it sheltering a Christian hermit, whose ascetic virtues obtained canonisation, and who left his name to the township which rose around his cell. During the competition for her crown which ravaged Italy in the tenth century, and rendered that the most dismal as well as confused period of her dark ages, S. Leo became the refuge of King Berengarius, from whence he long defied the arms of his eventually successful rival Otho the Great: of its protracted siege, however, in 962-3, no incidents worthy of credit have come down to us. Its circuit is estimated at two miles, and not the least peculiar of its phenomena is a spring of excellent water near the summit, sufficient perennially to supply the mills. The accompanying engraving, from a sketch taken on the spot, will best convey an idea of this remarkable site, but we may quote Sanzi's description of it, and of its surprise by Federigo.[70]

"A city yonder stands, San Leo hight, Whose crest the sky menaces; 'gainst its strength No force has e'er prevailed, with scathed cliffs And rocks environed, heavenward uprearing Its summit, by a single path approached, Trod singly by the citizens. Earth holds None other deemed impregnable. To it the Count his daring aims addressed; And, knowing that a rock, which few to scale Would venture, jutted midway from the ridge, At midnight's murky hour the spot he gained, With few but agile comrades, well prepared With ladders; then alone and stealthily The outposts reconnoitred, slumbering all, Like men who knew no fears save from on high. Next scaling one by one that arduous rock, And reaching thence the level space beyond, The town his soldiers entered silently. Sudden uprose their cry, with clash of arms, And furious blows and crackling flame, the work Befitting, whilst the startled garrison, Knowing nor whence nor what the sounds, No struggle made, but rushed in desperation Or here or there, whilst others stood transfixed To find themselves befooled. Not more surprised Was he who gained the golden fleece, to see From the plough's furrow armed men spring forth, Than were these luckless denizens to find Their stronghold carried in the sudden fray."

A somewhat different account of the means by which S. Leo was taken, has been adopted by Baldi, from Volpelli's history of that place.[71] Matteo Grifone, who, from being a miller at S. Angelo in Vado, became a staunch follower of Count Federigo, and subsequently a general in the Venetian service, obtained permission to attempt a surprise. Accompanied by twenty picked men, he, in a dark and rainy night, gradually made his way to an outpost which he knew to be seldom occupied, and there left all but one comrade, with whom he effected an entrance by means of scaling-ladders. Silently and stealthily they two went from house to house, fastening each door with the chain which usually hung outside. At dawn, Federigo by concert led his troops to a feigned assault, to repel which the garrison sallied down the ridge. Grifone then, hastily admitting his men, closed the gates upon these skirmishers, and displaying in the piazza eight pair of colours which he had brought, raised the cry of Feltro! Feltro! The few defenders left in the citadel, conceiving the town to have been carried, and its inhabitants (who being barred into their dwellings could offer no resistance) to have sided with the enemy, surrendered without a blow. A temporary reconciliation with Sigismondo soon followed, by the interposition of Francesco Sforza, who gave to Malatesta his natural daughter Polissena in marriage, as a means of strengthening his hold on La Marca.

The father of Sforza, whether by birth a peasant or a gentleman, had owed his fortunes to his sword, which won him wealth and honours in various Italian states, especially in Romagna and Naples.[*72] His son succeeded to these honours, as well as to the command of his veterans, and inherited talents and address of still higher quality. Availing himself of the enfeebled papacy, and the confusion into which the ecclesiastical states fell during the contest of Eugenius IV. with the Council of Basle, he overran La Marca, whilst Fortebraccio menaced Rome itself. In order to save the latter, Eugenius abandoned the former to Sforza, with the title of Marquis, and the authority of Vicar; this bribe was accepted, and the service rendered for it was the restoration of his supremacy over the rest of the papal territory. On the death of Joanna of Naples, Francesco Sforza, now the first soldier of his day, acknowledged René as her successor, and when that monarch, by withdrawing in 1442, left the kingdom to his rival Alfonso, Sforza lost his Neapolitan dignities and estates. The sacrifice was more than compensated by his marriage with the Duke of Milan's natural daughter; yet for a time this splendid alliance brought with it no good fruits. Filippo Maria had acceded to it with indifferent grace, and jealousy of his son-in-law led him, in 1443, to join Eugenius and Alfonso in a combination for wresting from Francesco the March of Ancona.

Nicolò Piccinino being again hired to serve against his old enemy, Count Federigo preferred, after his father's obsequies, joining him before Monteleone to remaining idle at home, Sanzi assuring us,—

"That martial practice was his sole desire, Ready his guard to mount by night or day, And deeming cowardly the love of quiet."

He immediately attended his general to an interview with the King of Naples at Terracina, embarking at Civita Vecchia; and the impression made by him on that monarch is thus finely given by the same chronicler, in language splendid as his reception:—

"As its bright rays the comet's track precede, So the Count's virtues harbingered his way. And as Apollo scattering o'er the dawn His plumes of gold, along the orient sky, E'er he emerges calmly from his couch, Bears in his brilliant orb the blazing signs Of bounteous disposition: thus the youth Round the king's inmost heart himself entwined With hope's sweet fillet, and a lodgment made Firm as the solid nail in growing tree."[73]

After three days spent in concerting plans for an attack upon La Marca, Nicolò returned to Tuscany, but Federigo was invited by Alfonso to remain with him until the campaign should open. Ere long, however, he rejoined his troops at Viterbo, and, after a foraging march through the enemy's country, reached Fano just before Sforza, who had for some time remained there awaiting his Venetian and Florentine contingents, put Piccinino once more to the rout at Monteluro. Giovanni Sanzi, then a youth residing at Colbordolo, went forth to see the battle, which he describes with much spirit:—

"War's crash and clang were there; the horseman's charge With shock impetuous, and with ringing cheers That seemed the vaulted sky to scare. There, too, Men huddled lay on earth with dismal howls, Their drums and spears a booty: some the while Encouraging, some eager, some dismayed. The very air, with clouds surcharged and dim, Seemed wailing for the slaughter of that day, Its fierce assaults and sanguinary scenes."

The Count shared not in this defeat, but lent opportune aid to rally the broken and disorganised troops, and was about this time rewarded by Eugenius with his promised investiture of the countship of Mercatello. In July he repaired to the baths of Campagnatico, in the Maremma, to recruit from an attack of fever, but on his return found new occupation from the Lord of Rimini.

The grandfather of that seigneur was Galeotto Malatesta, whose patrimony included Rimini, Faenza, and Fossombrone, and whose elder brother, Malatesta Malatesta, had transmitted the fief of Pesaro to his great-grandson Galeazzo. This Galeazzo was a man of feeble parts and degraded character, altogether unable to maintain his authority over a disgusted people, or to cope with his bold and ambitious cousin Sigismondo of Rimini. After the defeat of Monteluro, he had reluctantly received into Pesaro some of Piccinino's stragglers, and Sigismondo availed himself of this pretext to persuade his father-in-law Sforza to seize and make over to him that city. But Francesco, intent on sustaining his interests in La Marca, soon left the affair in the hands of Sigismondo, who, although able to overrun the surrounding country, could make no impression upon the capital, held by Count Federigo, even after its poor-spirited lord had withdrawn to Forlì. Thus baffled for eighteen months, the impetuous Sigismondo, by way of cutting short the contest, sent to Federigo this insolent challenge:—

This cartel was answered as became a high-spirited knight; but, on reaching the rendezvous under the walls of Pesaro, Federigo was surprised to find his adversary absent. No explanation appears of this failure beyond Sanzi's expressive exclamation,—

"Ah! foul dishonour to the recreant lord!"

and Sigismondo, covered with ridicule, was glad to patch up a truce with his cousin Galeazzo.[*75]

---

IT was during the siege of Pesaro that Federigo heard of the horrible catastrophe, by which his brother Oddantonio, on the 22nd July, 1444, atoned the excesses of his brief sovereignty. But this assassination, the result of a sudden outbreak, indicated no general disloyalty to the race of Montefeltro. The virtues and moderation of Guidantonio were fresh in men's minds; Federigo was personally liked, and his recent feats of arms, under the eyes of his countrymen, were accepted as first fruits of a growing fame. The fief might indeed be held as lapsed by the close of the male line, but there were abundant precedents of reinvestitures to illegitimate successors, and the citizens of Urbino, shocked at their own outrage, sought to remedy the past by a prompt return to duty.[*76] Sanzi accordingly tells us that the factious and blood-thirsty populace wonderfully united in electing as their seigneur the heroic Federigo, who, meanwhile, informed by the bishop of the tumult and its results, had repaired to Urbino, where, on the following day, conditions were formally offered and accepted as the terms on which he was chosen. The instrument containing the demands of the people, and his replies to each, will be found in the Appendix IV., and throws some light upon the extent of popular rights, and the manner of enforcing them, in the despotic communities of Italy. Divested of the rude style in which they were expressed, these concessions were to the following purpose:—

• 1. A general amnesty for the recent revolution.[77]

• 2. Bimonthly election of the priors of Urbino, with certain powers, and with a salary of fifteen ducats.

• 3. A new house for the priors.

• 4. A reduction of assessments from five and a half to four soldi in the lira.

• 5. Revocation of all donations made posterior to Guidantonio.

• 6. Similar revocation of immunities and privileges granted to the nobility and communes.

• 7. Control by the citizens of the watching and warding fees.

• 8. Application of a tierce of all escheats to the use of public works.

• 9. Promise to impose no new taxes, except in urgent circumstances.

• 10. Trimestral elections of the chamberlain.

• 11. The notaries acting as clerks of military orders and of sentences to be boxed (imbussolari) with their salaries and perquisites.

• 12. Reform of the measures for salt.

• 13. Semestral change of the podestà and certain other officers, without intervention of the Count.

• 14. Appointment of two medical officers bound to attend to all ratepayers, their salaries to be charged on the community.

• 15. Similar appointment of a schoolmaster and assistant.

• 16. The camp-captains of Urbino to be citizens.

• 17. Abolition of recent oppressive tolls, which impede the passage of merchants.

• 18. Payment to creditors of the two last sovereigns.

• 19. Biennial election of two appassati[78] for Urbino.

• 20. An additional clerk for the priors.

On the 1st of August proclamation was made of a reduction of imposts, the regulation of salt measures at thirty-three pounds to the quarter, and the remission of condemnations. Besides these conditions, Federigo granted or confirmed to his capital a constitution, which, however, was rather of a municipal than political character, and which consisted in two general councils, one composed of thirty-two, the other of twenty-four, citizens. These preliminaries arranged, deputations flocked from Gubbio and the other communities to offer their obedience, and were soon followed by congratulations from neighbouring powers.

---

The political aspect of Central Italy, and the condition of her princes, during this century, are thus sketched by a recent writer:—"Their feeble and unquiet domination was obtained sometimes by usurpations from rivals, from the people, or from the Church, sometimes by authority wrested originally from pope or emperor, and subsequently sanctioned, which was wielded now with more, now with less, rigour; but all of them were encompassed by a numerous following, were devoted to the profession of mercenary war, and were at once the abettors and dreaders of rebellions, ambushes, poisonings. Various were the vicissitudes of these chiefs. In order to oust a competitor, they would offer large concessions to the Church or the populace, and having attained to sovereignty would gradually curtail these until the community called in another master, to be in like manner supplanted by a third. In other cases they compromised their disputes by partitioning cities or principalities. Frequently the Pontiff would favour one faction in order to put down another, and to profit by their mutual strife; again, he would elevate a third over them both, under cloak of freedom. It was, in short, constant wavering between abuses and concessions, tyranny and licence; the seigneur intent upon extending his influence, although by dishonest means, the people prompt to diminish it even to anarchy."[79]

This description might be justly applied to the Montefeltrian holdings under most of their early counts, but a brighter day dawned upon the duchy with Federigo's accession, and Urbino had the singular fortune during the next hundred and ninety years, and under the sway of two dynasties numbering five sovereigns, to be equally exempt from oppression and disorder, from domestic broils and disputed successions; to be governed by princes not less beloved at home than respected abroad, whose brows might be graced by olive or laurel, according to the spirit or the exigencies of the time, but who ever entwined with it the myrtle wreath.

The policy and manners of Federigo, equally prudent and conciliatory, confirmed the favourable anticipations previously formed, and are thus depicted by his contemporary Sanzi:—

"His flower of youth was bursting into bloom; Mild beyond measure, merciful and just, Fervent in piety, in counsel sage; Heedless of thirst or hunger, cold or heat; Unworn by watching, vigorous his frame, Gladsome his gentle mien; prompt to obey, Or play the master as the case may be, Or to persuade: rare gifts in warrior bold! Wary and watchful in his generalship, The hearts of e'en his foes he knew to win By kind forbearance in the battle field. From anger, pride, and avarice exempt, But courteous, liberal, eloquent, and true, In him each lofty grace spontaneous grew."

If the accusation be well founded, which we have formerly stated against Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta, of corrupting Oddantonio's morals, in the hope of supplanting him in his seigneury, the easy succession of Federigo must have brought him bitter disappointment. His total failure before Pesaro aggravated this annoyance, and he vented his spite by simultaneous inroads on two opposite quarters of Urbino. A conspiracy against Federigo, discovered about this time, was also perhaps the fruit of his intrigues; but, being discovered, its authors were led to the block, whilst the adherents of Malatesta were repulsed from the frontier. In this state of matters, the Count of Urbino (for the dukedom had died with Oddantonio) was surprised by an offer from Galeazzo Malatesta to sell him the seigneuries of Pesaro and Fossombrone, nominally his, which he found himself incompetent to defend from his rapacious neighbour of Rimini. The proposal was tempting, for both these possessions lay admirably to Urbino, and would extend its frontier to the Adriatic. But Federigo's position was one of delicacy between Sigismondo Malatesta on one hand, and Francesco Sforza on the other, both anxious to acquire those fiefs, and both his personal enemies. The death at this very juncture of his old friend and commander Nicolò Piccinino, which appeared to complicate his embarrassment, proved the means of relieving it. Sforza, having watched his rising reputation, calculated more advantage from his friendship than his opposition, and availed himself of the opportunity presented by Piccinino's demise, to make conciliatory overtures. Before committing himself, Federigo offered his services to the Pope, which being declined, with full licence to dispose of them as he pleased, he at once closed with Sforza, accepting a command, with four hundred lances and as many infantry, for the common defence of their respective states. This arrangement transferred his banner from the Braccian to the Sforzan party, battalions originally embodied under the rival captains from whom they were respectively designated, but distinguished in name, and regarded as the type of opposite systems, long after their founders had passed away. The tactics of Braccio di Montone were rapid and decisive, the policy of Attendolo Sforza cautious to a proverb; extremes which the Count of Urbino's practice was considered happily to have combined. In order to complete the necessary stipulations, he repaired to Fermo on a visit to Francesco, and passed some weeks there, returning on the 10th of December.

It remained to adjust the affair of Pesaro and Fossombrone. The despicable lord of these fiefs had a granddaughter, Costanza Varana, whose pedigree in relation to the Montefeltrian princes we have explained, and who had gained the affections of Alessandro, brother of Francesco Sforza. Federigo, unable to pay for both seigneuries, or unwilling to hazard the odium which so sudden an aggrandisement might incur, proceeded on the 9th of January to Jesi, and proposed to the two Sforza that Francesco should purchase Pesaro for Alessandro, who should marry Costanza, whilst Fossombrone should be united to Urbino.[*80] The suggestion being no less agreeable than beneficial to all parties, it was heartily acceded to, and, ere many weeks passed, an arrangement was completed, whereby Galeazzo, exchanging the alarms of insecure sovereignty for a contemptible retirement, made over Pesaro to Alessandro and Fossombrone to Federigo, for the respective sums of 20,000 and 13,000 ducats or florins of gold, reserving the mills and his other allodial property; and thereafter withdrew to Florence, where, on the death of his talented and neglected wife Battista di Montefeltro in a convent, he married a lady of the Medici, and is said to have ended his ignoble life in misery. On the 16th of March, the nuptials of Alessandro Sforza with Costanza Varana were happily accomplished; she inherited much of her grandmother's capacity, and transmitted it to her youngest daughter, Battista, who in due time became second wife of Count Federigo.[81]

This partition, apparently so advantageous to Francesco Sforza, was but the beginning of mischief. His son-in-law Sigismondo, ever

"On brawls and battle-fields intent,"

could ill brook the disappointment of his designs upon two fiefs long in his family, and admirably suited to consolidate his territory by incorporating Fano with Rimini; still less could he submit to be cut out of them by his especial enemy Federigo. Another circumstance had lately occurred to exasperate against Francesco his ever jealous father-in-law the Duke of Milan. Ciarpelion, one of his favourite captains, had been induced to accept from Visconti the command vacated by Piccinino's death, but his application for a furlough was answered by the provost-marshal, who hanged him after inflicting horrible tortures. Thus were his wife's father and his daughter's husband united against the Lord of La Marca, nor did they find it difficult to rekindle in the Pope and the King of Naples their dormant jealousies of a soldier of fortune, whose possessions were desirable spoil to them both. He was consequently assailed at once by three of the chief powers of Italy, and by several of the petty feudatories and independent captains, whilst, as Florence and Venice were but lukewarm allies, he had no efficient aid to look for, beyond that of his recent but faithful friend Federigo. With him accordingly he drew more closely the bonds of amity, and in the end of June paid him a visit of five days at Urbino, accompanied by his family, when Sanzi tells us they exchanged reciprocal pledges of a romantic brotherhood in arms, preparatory to the empty dignity of general-in-chief, conferred upon the Count by Sforza on the 15th of July.

The province which accidental circumstances had subjected to Francesco gave him but a feeble tenure of sovereignty. It extended along the Adriatic sea-board from Sinigaglia to the Tronto, including the Marshes of Ancona and Fermo, lately the richest portion of the Papal States. But time was wanting to consolidate his dominion, and to give him that hold upon the affections and interests of his people which is ever wanting to upstart potentates. The very extent of his territory thus became an element of peril, and the danger was aggravated by the ill-timed accession to it of Upper Abruzzo as far as Pescara, which, throwing off the yoke of Alfonso, placed itself under his protection, giving another pretext to the confederates for accelerating their attack. This, however, the Marquis[82] anticipated by hurrying to the north, and attacking his son-in-law's possessions about Fano. Leaving there an army, under his brother Alessandro and the Count of Urbino, to intercept the Milanese forces, he proceeded to Florence, and by the aid of Cosimo de' Medici obtained a considerable sum of money. On his return he carried La Pergola after a gallant defence. But these exertions were all in vain. His subjects, proverbially fickle, bound to him by no hereditary attachment, and alarmed by the extensive preparations maturing for his destruction, prepared to abandon his cause, and seek for protection under their former ecclesiastical masters. Ascoli first raised the standard of insurrection, and slew Rinaldo, uterine brother of the Marquis; but the contagion quickly spread, and although, by forced marches and the most strenuous efforts, he for a time kept the country in obedience, and even recovered several revolted castles, the loss of Rocca Contrada, seduced by the intrigues of Sigismondo, closed the most available pass that remained to him. From that moment his cause seemed desperate, and it became his object to provide for the safety of his troops and few remaining strongholds during the approaching winter, in the hope that spring might bring him better fortune. The garrisons of Fermo and Jesi were succoured, and his cavalry were quartered in the valleys of Urbino, whilst he took up his quarters in Pesaro. But ere the year ended, Fermo his capital rose, and the garrison were starved into a capitulation.

Federigo had shared in all the fatigues of this campaign, and had gained what distinction could be gathered from its skirmishes and petty sieges. He thus earned the special indignation of Eugenius, whose legate vainly represented to him the folly of adhering to a cause irretrievably lost. Even after Alessandro Sforza had been induced by these arguments to give his adhesion to the Pontiff, the Count of Urbino, deeming it disgraceful to swerve from his plighted troth, afforded shelter and protection at Gubbio to the Marquis's family, thus compelled to retire from Pesaro. His reward was papal excommunication, and a new inroad on his devoted state by the Perugian troops, at the instance of Filippo Maria Visconti.

But the tide of adversity had nearly spent itself. The Venetians and Florentines, at length roused to exertions in behalf of their ally, brought their forces into the field. The former advanced to support Cremona, which belonged to Sforza, but was now assailed by his father-in-law; the latter marched three thousand cavalry and a thousand foot into Romagna. Francesco and Federigo, on the strength of this seasonable reinforcement, resumed the offensive, and challenged the ecclesiastical army to a trial of strength, the Count adding a special defiance to personal combat with Sigismondo. Both invitations were evaded or declined, and as the Sforza battalions marched round the camp of an enemy superior in numbers,—a clang of triumph echoing from their trumpets,—and assailed them with hisses and insulting cries, the moral effect was perhaps equal to a victory.[83] This was in October, and during the autumn many petty successes were gained over Malatesta about Pesaro, Alessandro Sforza having reunited his interests with those of his brother. The Venetians were meanwhile so pressing upon Visconti in Lombardy that he hastened to make overtures of reconciliation with his son-in-law, who, gladly profiting by the opportunity to retrieve his damaged position, found some paltry excuse to shake himself loose from the Republic, and, by one of those rapid tergiversations which free lances were privileged to perform, turned his arms against his defenders. Policy, if not honour, justified this course, for the declining health of Filippo Maria held out to Sforza new hopes of the Milanese succession, and gave him a strong inducement to defend that territory from neighbours so powerful and ambitious. The confederacy being thus broken up, peace was restored to Romagna by a treaty of the 11th March, 1447; but Sigismondo, deeply disgusted at the entire failure of his calculations, which, presuming on the utter ruin of Federigo, had made sure of acquiring Urbino, Montefeltro, Durante, Gubbio, Fossombrone, and Pesaro, impatiently awaited an opportunity for revenge. In the autumn of that year he was enabled by the cabal of a few discontented citizens to seize Fossombrone, but within three days it was recovered by Federigo, to the great joy of its inhabitants, who celebrated by thanksgivings and festivals their release from a tyrant's odious yoke. The misery of these intestine wars is illustrated by an anecdote mentioned of this assault, that the Count conceived it necessary to stimulate the ardour of his soldiery by promising them the pillage of this his own city; and he is stated to have earned the praise of a most just and lenient prince, by restraining their fury until he had placed the women in safety.

During the year 1447, there occurred two deaths of great moment to Italy, those of Pope Eugenius IV. and Filippo Maria Duke of Milan. Gabriele Condolmiere of Venice owed his promotion to his countryman Gregory XII., whose nephew he is said to have been, and received the triple tiara in March, 1431, when but forty-eight years of age. His reign was one of turbulence, for the convulsions consequent upon his policy disorganised Italy, and threatened Christendom with a new schism. Putting himself at once in hostility with the Colonna, whose power had grown formidable under their kinsman Martin V., he exposed Rome to be pillaged by their lawless bands. Soon after, he was glad to fly in disguise to Florence, leaving his capital in the hands of a republican faction, and oppressed by the partisans of Braccio. As the last hope of recovering a portion of his territory from the various condottieri who ravaged it, and "dreading a perilous contest more than an ignominious peace,"[84] he recognised Francesco Sforza, the most influential of them, as Lord or Marquis of La Marca, and created him Gonfaloniere of the Church. But with the bad faith which marked the age, he sought to rid himself of the instrument as soon as his purpose was served. Restless in his policy, headstrong in his counsels, to him in a great measure was owing that perturbed state of Italy, which, when once become normal, continued, until the descent of the French in 1492, to realise the graphic description of Machiavelli: "Peace it cannot be called, whilst the princes were frequently fighting; neither can such struggles well be regarded as warfare, where men were not slain, nor cities sacked, nor sovereignties sacrificed; for so feeble became these strifes, that they were commenced without alarm, were conducted without risk, and closed without damage."[85] Nor was his management of spiritual interests more commendable. His quarrel with the Council of Basle gave him a rival antipope, and might have cost him his tiara, but for an unexpected overture of the last Emperor of Constantinople to unite the Greek and Latin Churches. Such, however, was his good fortune, that the completion of that union, the cruel persecutions he directed against the Hussites, and his ascetic rejection of personal indulgences to which he was indifferent, have gained for him the reputation of a zealot in faith, a saint in morals, and withal a pillar of the papacy.

The Pontiff's death was followed within six months by that of Filippo Maria, last of the Visconti, a race whose sway in Milan is alleged to date from the eleventh century, and whose twelve princes of that city have been commemorated by the flattering pen of Giovio. They owe their place in history rather to the importance of their duchy, and to the European marriages of their later generations, than to personal illustration. The immediate succession to Filippo Maria convulsed Upper Italy during nearly three years, and the dispute, when revived half a century later, brought upon the Peninsula those barbarian aggressions from which she has till now been a chronic sufferer. His only child, the illegitimate Bianca Maria, had been reluctantly bestowed by him on Francesco Sforza, whom his jealous temper regarded as a rival and enemy, instead of conciliating as a son and useful ally. The house of Orleans were heirs of line of his family, but their title derived little strength by their mother's legitimacy, where female descent could give no valid claim to inheritance. The late Duke's testamentary bequest of his sovereignty to Alfonso of Naples, was clearly beyond his legal powers, so that the best right seemed that of the Emperor, in virtue of the lapsed fief. But ere any one of these four competitors was aware that the succession had opened, the citizens of Milan possessed themselves of the vacant authority, and their example was partially followed in neighbouring towns, several of which attempted to establish a Lombard republican confederacy with Milan at its head. In the struggles which ensued, and to which Venice and Florence became parties, the Count of Urbino took no share. The fate of Milan was decided rather by famine than the sword, and in February, 1450, the populace escaped from their sufferings by accepting Sforza as successor of his father-in-law.

The Milanese succession was not, however, without its influence on Central Italy, and upon the fortunes of Count Federigo of Urbino. In the late contest on the Lombard plains, Florence and Venice had, in observance of a long-established and obvious policy, opposed the ambitious projects of Filippo Maria, but had acceded to the new Pontiff's proposal for a congress at Ferrara, in order to arrange a general peace. To this Visconti lent himself in no good faith, having concerted with the King of Naples that they should each attack one of these republics, as soon as Francesco Sforza should be secured to their side. Even whilst the congress was sitting, Alfonso obtained a footing in the Upper Val d'Arno, and although the death of his confederate abrogated their secret understanding, the opportunity of pursuing his selfish designs upon Tuscany continued favourable; for Venice was occupied in a fresh struggle with Sforza, and his own pretensions upon Milan, under the late Duke's will, would be much enhanced could he bear the trophies of Florence to the banks of the Po. He, however, offered to abstain from hostilities, on condition that free passage and provisions were allowed to his army, and that the city, now ruled by Cosimo de' Medici, should renounce its Venetian alliance. It required but little consideration to reject terms which would have opened to him the Milanese, where his success must have destroyed the balance of power in the Peninsula.

Disappointed of Siena, which refused his fair offers, Alfonso turned into the valley of the Cecina, and having possessed himself of Pomerance, Campigli, Castiglione,[*86] and other townships in the Maremma, proposed to winter there. But he was promptly checked by Count Federigo, whom the Florentine Council had taken into their service,[87] and the spring arrived without any considerable movement or advantage on either side. There now occurred an incident highly characteristic of his bitter foe Sigismondo, in which he showed to advantage by the contrast. The Lord of Rimini, having been engaged by Alfonso, received from him 30,000 ducats in advance of pay, but, more intent upon selfish ends than on his promised service, he misapplied the money, and availed himself of the Count's absence from Urbino to repeat his attack upon Fossombrone and some neighbouring castles. In order to palliate this breach of faith, he wrote to the King that it was in truth a well-laid scheme for his benefit, Federigo being sure to hasten from Tuscany for the defence of his own subjects. The calculation was however defeated, as the Count, with the fidelity seldom found or expected among free lances, refused to quit his post, resting the safety of his people upon their own gallantry and devotion. When Alfonso perceived this, he summoned Malatesta to join him, but, whether from innate treachery or apprehension, he preferred offering himself and his contingent of above two thousand men to the Florentines, against whom he was actually engaged to serve. Apart from the unpleasant position in which it placed himself, this tergiversation seemed to Federigo so outrageous a treason as to require from him a special protest; but his usual conscientious adherence to a temporary banner prevailing over honourable scruples and personal disgust, he kept the field, and even consented to adjourn all private quarrels with Sigismondo to the end of the campaign. It was marked by no circumstance of interest beyond the King's ineffectual attempt upon Piombino, the peninsular capital of a petty fief belonging to the Appiani, then confederates of the Republic. The marsh-fever of the Maremma,

"Where the path Is lost in rank luxuriance, and to breathe Is to inhale distemper, if not death,"

seconded its brave resistance, and Alfonso was glad to return home in the autumn after sacrificing a portion of his army, while the Count of Urbino retired to his state. But during their joint service under the Florentine banner, Sigismondo had found opportunity for the exercise of his intriguing spirit. Demanding audience of Federigo, he remonstrated against his having aided in the establishment at Pesaro of a stranger, to the vast detriment of its hereditary seigneurs the Malatesta, so long neighbours and kindred of the Montefeltri; and in token of the thanklessness of that service he showed a bond, whereby Alessandro Sforza had allied himself with Sigismondo for the partition of Urbino and its dependencies. With such evidence before him, Federigo lent himself to an offer made by the false Lord of Rimini to turn the tables against Sforza, and to surrender all of the Montefeltrian territory that he had gained two years before, provided the Count would aid him in ousting the intruder from Pesaro. But with characteristic treachery he availed himself of a favourable moment to attack that town single-handed, and Federigo, satisfied of his utter faithlessness, rushed to the rescue, reclaiming by this new and noble-minded service the gratitude of Alessandro and of his brother. As soon as the latter was acknowledged Duke of Milan, he offered the Count of Urbino an engagement, in highly complimentary terms, stating that, after full consideration to whom he could worthily commit the conduct of his army, whereon depended the whole welfare of his state, he had fixed upon Federigo, having long known and clearly ascertained his extraordinary and unfailing fidelity, authority, gravity, prudence, promptitude, justice, wisdom, and diligence in the conduct of every great enterprise.[*88] The Tuscan war being over, this appointment was readily accepted by the Count, although suffering from a painful and dangerous accident.

In honour of the Duke's exaltation, he had proclaimed a tournament at Urbino, which Sanzi assures us was preceded by omens of evil. In particular, his mother, influenced by a horrible dream, besought him on her knees to abandon the intention. Though a firm believer in astrology, his mind repudiated this superstition, which however diffused among all ranks a feeling of vague anxiety as the jousting day approached. Just then there arrived Guidangelo de' Ranieri, a gentleman of Urbino, who had gained the prize in a recent passage of arms at Florence; he was met at the city gates by the Count, who embraced him, placing on his neck the knightly guerdon of a golden chain. Being asked to run a course with him, Guidangelo would have excused himself, and is even said to have earned a sharp reproof for forbearing to touch him, in deference to the prevailing apprehension of some impending mishap. On repeating the course, the knight being mounted on a small charger, his lance, after striking Federigo's armour, glanced upwards, and was shivered against his vizor. He received the stunning blow between the eyebrows, where it shattered the bone of his nose and knocked out his right eye. Recovering himself, however, he kept his seat, and consoled those who flocked around in consternation, by assuring them of a speedy cure, and that one of his two good eyes remaining, he would still be able to see better than with a hundred ordinary ones. This courageous bearing was perhaps the best recipe, and his cure appears to have been rapid and easy; but the damage to his features may be presumed from subsequent portraits representing him in profile, which, whilst concealing the loss of his eye, exaggerated the prominence of his broken nose.[*89]

---

THE establishment of Francesco Sforza as Duke of Milan had virtually settled the affairs of Lombardy, for although the Emperor and the French King refused to recognise his rights to the Visconti succession, they deferred their respective claims upon that duchy till a fitter season. The Angevine pretensions to the crown of Naples were also in temporary abeyance, and the triple tiara had passed from the turbulent Eugenius to Nicholas V., whose early habits of scholarship continued undisturbed by ambitious dreams. There thus seemed no element of contention left, and a prolonged peace was the natural as well as the true policy of Italy. But, in the words of Sanzi,

"No long repose Ausonia e'er can brook, For peace to her brings languor, and she deems It loathsome to lie fallow."

So paltry were the pretexts, so remote the motives for renewed hostilities, that Sismondi is content to ascribe these to diplomatic intrigue, seconded by a general irritability of temperaments, and avows that, ere they were resumed, a review of interests and reconstruction of alliances became absolutely necessary. Venice and Florence had hitherto co-operated to protect themselves, and maintain a balance against the ambitious dynasties of Visconti and Aragon; but jealousy of the terra-firma acquisitions of the former having induced her sister republic to league with Sforza, she consulted at once her safety and her vengeance by an intimate union with Alfonso. Sigismondo Malatesta being retained in her service, the Duke of Milan bought him over by an offer of better terms, and the Count of Urbino, finding himself thus exposed to the same contact with his personal enemy which had recently annoyed him in the Maremma campaign, renounced his engagement with Sforza, and as a natural consequence transferred it to the other side. The King of Naples, disgusted by the late treachery of Sigismondo, and by similar instances of light faith on the part of other Italian condottieri, had announced his determination to employ none of them without sureties for their fidelity. But he made an exception in favour of Federigo, declining his offer of the Venetian signory as his sponsors, on the ground that he knew his word to be sufficient guarantee. In consequence, however, of the coronation of Frederick III. at Rome, and his stay in Italy, it was not until 1452 that these arrangements were so far completed as to enable the Venetians to declare war upon Sforza in May of that year, and Alfonso to publish hostilities with Florence in the following month.[90]

The King being desirous of bringing into notice his natural son Ferdinando Duke of Calabria, the destined heir of his crown, now placed him at the head of 8000 cavalry, and half that number of foot soldiers, but bestowed on Federigo the rank and title of Captain-general. Entering Tuscany by Cortona, this army penetrated by the valleys of Chiana and Arno, carrying terror almost to the gates of Florence, and overrunning a vast extent of country. But no permanent impression was made, for, trusting to the artillery of Siena, which was refused him, Alfonso had not provided his troops with the means of taking any strong places. It accordingly cost them six weeks to reduce Foiano, and after spending as long before Castellina, the bursting of their only battering-gun rendered further perseverance useless. Thus when they betook themselves to winter quarters at Aquaviva on the Mediterranean coast, they could boast no important result of the campaign. A colourable pretext was thus afforded for murmurs from the captains, many of whom served reluctantly under a commander so much their junior. Although these complaints reached Alfonso, they no way diminished his confidence in Federigo, whom he encouraged to meet such jealousy by redoubled exertions. In order to arrange a plan of operations, the Count repaired to Naples, and received from him a cordial welcome. As spring advanced, the pestilent air of the Maremma, which had formerly compromised the Neapolitan army in

"That sun-bright land of beauty,"

again proved their scourge. Many officers and men were attacked by fever, and among them the Captain-general, who was removed to Siena whilst his troops fell back upon Pitigliano.

The following letter, written by him during an earlier stage of his malady, and probably in reply to pressing invitations from the priors of that city, proves his reluctance to leave his post:—

This campaign differed little in tactics, and no way in results, from that in which Federigo, under the Florentine standard, had lately contested much of the same ground with Alfonso. We pass rapidly over the events of both, for although minutely dwelt upon by his biographers, and tending to develop his military science and reputation, they were marked by no brilliant incidents, and involved no general interests. Machiavelli, ever willing to sneer at mercenary warfare, observes that places were then deemed impregnable which in his day were abandoned as untenable, and explains the policy of the invaded to consist in avoiding a general engagement; "for they deemed it impossible to be ultimately worsted, so long as they were not beaten in any pitched battle, the loss of petty castles being recovered with returning peace, while more important places were secure in the enemy's inability to assault them."[92]

The Count's engagement was renewed by the King of Naples in autumn for another year on the same terms, which appear from the Oliveriana MSS. to have been 1500 ducats a month for his own pay, 8 ducats, of ten gigli, for each lance, and 2 for each foot-soldier; his company to consist of 700 lances and 600 infantry. No active service was, however, required; and the general pacification, to which Alfonso reluctantly acceded in January, 1455, restored matters to their former state,—the usual issue of such contests.

Europe was now startled by an event which exposed Italy to peculiar peril. The Eastern Empire had long been falling into feeble senility, and in proportion as her vigour relaxed and her frontier receded, the Crescent extended its domination, and menaced the Bosphorus. The Greeks appealed for aid to Western Christendom; but men's enthusiasm had become selfishness; the crusading spirit was extinct, and the cry echoed unheeded along the Mediterranean shores. The siege of Constantinople by Mahomet II., a barbarian endowed with qualities which would have shone in any sphere, might have been prevented or raised by very moderate efforts of the Italian powers; and it was not until the loss of that great capital, that they perceived the folly of their neglect, which had sacrificed the best bulwark of Europe against Ottoman aggression. But besides this general consternation, the maritime republics staggered beneath the blow, for it annihilated that trade with the Archipelago and the Euxine which had crowded their ports and filled their coffers; and when Constantinople fell, many wealthy Christian merchants, there resident, were stripped of their property, and passed into menial slavery. It was in the moment of universal alarm, that Nicholas V. urged a general reconciliation and league of Italy, with a zeal which, notwithstanding the doubts of Simonetta adopted by Sismondi, we believe to have been sincere. The congress held for this purpose at Rome was, however, distracted by narrow views and shallow intrigues, and broke up without effecting its object. Yet, ere long, policy prevailed over petty ends, and the peace of Lodi, signed in April, 1454, to which at first only Venice and Milan were parties, was ratified within a few months by all the Peninsular states, and secured to them a long period of comparative repose.

This pacification of Italy, which the Pontiff had ardently desired, he was not long spared to witness, for he closed his exemplary life on the 24th of March. Tommaso de' Parentucelli, though of Pisan parentage, was born and brought up at Sarzana, from whence he took his usual designation. He was early vowed to the Church in consequence of his mother's dream, and at the University of Bologna his progress attracted notice from the bishop, who took him into his family, where he remained for about twenty years. On the return of Eugenius to Rome, in 1443, he was elevated to the purple, as vice-camerlingo; and three years and a half later, was chosen to succeed that Pontiff. The tastes and habits of scholarship which Nicholas had formed in early youth preserved their ascendency after this remarkable advancement. The first object of his government was the maintenance of general peace; and when he had failed to effect this, his uniform policy was neutrality. His attention was thus left free to follow out, for the benefit of his subjects, and of mankind, those aspirations for justice, and those enlarged views of mental development which formed his character. The revenues which other pontiffs of that age misapplied to promote miserable contests, or lavished on schemes of nepotism and courtly vices, he directed into more wholesome channels. Magnificent in all that could lend dignity to the religion of whose faith and ritual he was the guardian, careful of whatever could promote the dignity of his sacred office, an economical management enabled him largely to gratify his literary longings. At his court, habits of study were an unfailing recommendation; mental acquirements were duly honoured, and men of letters were sure of finding a generous and enlightened friend. With him originated the Vatican library, which, under liberal popes, and by favourable opportunities, has since been gradually augmented into one of the brightest ornaments of the papacy. His mild and useful reign ended far too soon for the welfare of Italy and the interests of letters, but the light which it diffused scattered the last shadows of the dark ages, and still gilds the remainder of this century.

It chanced that a few days before peace had been concluded, a subsidy of 36,000 ducats reached Federigo from the King of Naples, which he immediately offered to return, as no longer required. Regarding this as an act of unusual conscientiousness, Alfonso desired him to retain the money on account of future services; whereupon the Count, after sending home his company from the Tuscan war, attended the Duke of Calabria to Naples, to offer acknowledgments in person. To his suggestion, while there, has been ascribed by Muzio and Baldi a double matrimonial alliance, now proposed between the hitherto hostile houses of Aragon and Sforza, as a means of cementing the new league, but of which only that of Hippolita Maria Sforza took effect. On the same authority we must attribute to him a selfish and ill-timed counsel, which marred that measure and perilled the peace of Italy. Whilst a party to the losing game which Sforza played in La Marca during 1445-6, several of his townships were seized by the Lord of Rimini, in whose possession they had since remained. With the ultimate hope of reclaiming these on some fitting opportunity, he is alleged to have reminded Alfonso of the scurvy trick played upon him in 1448 by Sigismondo, in passing over to the service of Florence after receiving his pay, and to have suggested such treachery as sufficient ground for specially excluding the latter from the league, and for reserving a right to make reprisals. The King adopted this hint the more readily, that he had other wrongs to settle with the Genoese and with Astorre Manfredi, seigneur of Imola; he accordingly, on ratifying the treaty of Lodi in January, 1455, introduced an exceptional clause against these three states, the effect of which was not only to keep up petty warfare in Romagna and Liguria, but eventually to entail upon his son a disputed succession which well-nigh cost him his crown.

It was the destiny of Urbino long to endure the full weight of Malatesta's troublesome qualities; to be in turn agitated by his intrigues, compromised by his instability, deluded by his duplicity, harassed anew by his inroads, and again cajoled by his hollow repentance. The Count, whose sense of honour was delicately susceptible, and who felt warmly for his people's welfare, could no longer brook such aggressions. Bent upon signally punishing them, he, however, before concerting measures with Alfonso, judged it prudent to visit Florence, Bologna, Milan, and Mantua, in order to justify to their governments the necessity of making an example of his inveterate foe. Nothing could exceed the honourable reception accorded him at these places; but he did not obtain anything beyond general assurances or cold civilities in regard to the matter he had in view. The proffered mediation of Borso d'Este, Duke of Modena and Marquis of Ferrara, held out one last hope of an arrangement; so he paid him a visit on his return homewards, in May, 1457, and found that Malatesta was already his guest. The interview of these rivals is described by Sanzi and Baldi with details probably more dramatic than historical. The Lord of Rimini came reluctantly, with arms at his side and implacable passions in his breast; he commenced the discussion with a long catalogue of grievances, and quickly wrought himself up to violent and insulting language, which Federigo met by mild but firm remonstrance, ending with a proposal to settle by single combat, "hand to hand, in field, or plain, or valley," whatever misunderstandings could not be amicably disposed of by their host. Sigismondo, for answer, drew his sword, and after the parties had exchanged ferocious defiance, the Duke separated them, grieved at the total failure of his intervention. Before leaving Ferrara, the Count offered to submit to his arbitration their differences, the chief of which was as to restoration of the places in Montefeltro retained by Malatesta; but the latter declined any reference of the sort.

After provocations so aggravated, and in the certainty that opportunity alone was wanting to renew them in manner more perilous to his interests, Federigo no longer hesitated to act upon the reservations of the treaty of Lodi, and in June hastened to Naples, in order to obtain assistance. It happened that Giacopo, son of Nicolò Piccinino, was then in the Abruzzi with his company of adventure, retained by Alfonso, but waiting the chances of war. The Count, therefore, applied for permission to employ him against Malatesta, who, like a true braggart, lost courage on finding himself exposed to just vengeance, and virtually excluded from assistance by the terms of the league. Recurring as usual to intrigue, he sent his eldest son Roberto to Naples, that he might gain favour with the beautiful Lucrezia Allagno, or del Lagno, who, though said to have equalled her Roman namesake in propriety, held the elderly monarch by the silken chain of youthful passion. Her dragon-like virtue did not exempt her from womanly weakness, and in exchange for the most brilliant ruby which the jewellers of Venice could supply, backed by an offer of his hand for her niece, Roberto gained her influence in his father's behalf. Months were lost in the counteracting this back-stairs interposition; and meanwhile Federigo was widowed by the death of Gentile, of whom nothing is known beyond the excessive stoutness of her person. These delays enabled him to prepare the munitions of war, and he addressed to the magistrates of Siena this request for a person qualified to cast mortars:—

It was in this month of November that the Count and Piccinino at length took the field, although the season already warned them to winter-quarters in the inclement climate of the Apennines. After reducing several places near Fossombrone, Federigo, in order to save his own people, seized some townships of Carpegna, a tiny fief held by a branch of his family with whom he was at variance, and there left the troublesome troops of Giacopo until the spring. When it opened, notwithstanding the dilatory and heartless tactics of their leader, who, like a true condottiere, regarded decisive movements as fatal to his trade, this "war of petty sieges by petty armies," as it is aptly called by Sismondi, soon exhausted and humbled the refractory Sigismondo, whose unhappy condition is thus pitiably described in another interesting despatch to the Sienese authorities.

These sanguine anticipations were, however, premature, as fortune had still some trials in store for Federigo. Alfonso's death took place on the 1st of July, that of Pope Calixtus III. a few weeks later; both events materially affected the struggle which he had thus regarded as at an end. Indeed, the whole state of parties in that strife curiously illustrates the chances and changes on which depended success in the intestine broils of Italian feudatories and captains of adventure. The great ambition of the latter was to attain the sovereignty of some petty state, and Piccinino conceived himself, as representative of the Braccian influence, well entitled to watch an opportunity of turning it to such account. His calculation probably was that he might be able to possess himself of one at least of the seigneuries which Malatesta's ruin would vacate; but as the contest went on, that wily intriguer appears to have suggested to him Urbino as a richer guerdon, attainable by gradually wasting Federigo's resources, and finally at a fitting moment turning round to crush him.

The Duke of Milan's sympathies were naturally with the Count, who had stood by him single-handed in adversity, and in his cause had incurred those losses he was now endeavouring to recover, whilst the Lord of Rimini had betrayed him again and again, and with his own hands had strangled his natural daughter, the third wife murdered by this Bluebeard of real life.[*95] Yet such was Sforza's detestation of Giacopo as head of the old Braccian faction, and fear lest his ambition of sovereignty should be gratified, that he actually advanced money to support Sigismondo, who also obtained similar assistance from the Duke of Modena, jealous perhaps of the growing Montefeltrian influence. The Pontiff's death opened a new hope to Piccinino, and on the speculation of possibly making good a footing in Perugia, he profited by this vacancy of the Holy See to seize upon Assisi, Nocera, and Gualdo. Thus, within three months after his letter to Siena, Federigo found himself deprived of his only ally Alfonso, deserted by his confederate Piccinino, and left to maintain the contest single-handed against an adversary suddenly enabled to rally under his standard some of the boldest adventurers of Romagna.

But the reaction in his favour was not long postponed. Ferdinand continued his commission as captain-general, with a pension of 6000 ducats assigned to him by Alfonso three years before; and fully aware of the importance of conciliating papal sanction to his own questionable sovereignty, commanded Giacopo to quit the ecclesiastical territory and return to the banner of Montefeltro. A miserable contest of sacked villages and barbarous reprisals was continued during autumn and winter, and though the advantage preponderated on the Count's side, these successes were at his people's cost.

Meanwhile the repose of Italy was exposed to more serious interruption. Alfonso V. of Aragon and Sicily had maintained his very doubtful title to the crown of Naples[96] by a happy union of energy and judgment. Devoting his life to Italy, he first established his reputation by a series of victories over his Angevine competitor, and then cemented his popularity by an easy and accessible address, by lavish profusion of treasure and honours, by a zealous pursuit and patronage of learning. The epithet of Magnanimous, which graces his name, was merited by his testamentary disposition as well as by his character. Having no legitimate issue, he left to his brother John his hereditary dominions in Spain and the islands, but conceived himself at liberty to bestow the crown of Naples, received at first as a gift and retained by the sword, upon his natural son Ferdinand, whose substitution to it had been sanctioned by two popes, recognised in various treaties, and formally voted by a native parliament. His chief confidant and agent in these arrangements had been his countryman Cardinal Alfonso Borgia, who at his death filled the papal throne with the title of Calixtus III., and who, anticipating that bad faith and unscrupulous nepotism which, under Alexander VI., consigned to enduring infamy their subsequently canonised name, used his authority to supplant Ferdinand by his own nephew Pierluigi Borgia. With this view he, as suzerain of Naples, declared its sovereignty lapsed on the King's death without a legitimate son, and although he published a notice calling upon all claimants to appear for their interests, his real object was divulged by an offer to Francesco Sforza of his father's fiefs in the Abruzzi and Apulia, on condition of his enabling him to place the crown on Pierluigi's head. These intrigues were, however, frustrated by this Pope's death on the 8th of August; and his successor Pius II., a man in all respects his opposite, hastened to recognise Ferdinand, maintenance of peace in the Peninsula being the first requisite towards his grand project of a crusade against the Turks.

Full of this scheme, he summoned a congress of European powers at Mantua, which proved one of the most interesting assemblages recorded in mediæval history, and offered to Christendom the rare spectacle of a pontiff engaged in reconciling his universal flock. From the British Isles no adequate response answered his summons, "England being hopelessly convulsed by civil broils, and Scotland hidden in the ocean depths." His self-imposed task including the arrangement of all disputes, those of the rival Lords of Urbino and Rimini attracted early notice. Sigismondo attended at Mantua in person to plead his cause: that of Federigo, who reluctantly consented to transact with one whom he well knew no award, no promise, could bind, was conducted by an envoy. The treachery of the former being made manifest, he was condemned by the Pope to a pecuniary mulct, and, failing payment, to the surrender of some fastnesses in security. Thereupon new difficulties arose, Malatesta avowing himself as yet unconquered, and ready to brave extremities rather than accept the proffered terms. His swaggering was thus checked by Pius:—"Hold your peace; our care is not for you, but for your house: our pity belongs to your subjects, not yourself, whose manner of life merits no commiseration. However you may defend it by a multitude of words, your whole life tells against you, and your sole plea is upon the deeds of an ancestry deserving well of the Romish Church. Hence is it that we seek to pacify your foes; and if you now resile from what is fair and equitable, we shall leave you in the slough wherein we found you: nor would it surprise us were the divine mercy to permit the poor to be afflicted for a season, that you may finally expiate your guilt by a bloody end, or by a wretched and impoverished exile." Daunted by these words, Sigismondo succumbed to terms approaching the award; but the other party, elated by success, would make no concession, though the Pontiff, indignant at such clinging to victory rather than conciliation, strove to settle the points still at issue.[*97] It was in this state of matters that he indited the following brief.

The Pontiff's eventual decision was, that their conquests should be mutually restored, but that La Pergola, Pietrarobbia, and other townships should be given over to the Count, in compensation of damages; also that Malatesta should consign Sinigaglia and Mondavio as security for payment to Ferdinand of 50,000 ducats, in full of his debts to the crown of Naples; this money, or, failing it, these towns, to be given to Piccinino in lieu of all demands on account of services to Alfonso and Federigo. The only difficulty in carrying out these terms appears to have originated with that selfish adventurer, who, trusting to the terror with which his robber bands were regarded, and conceiving that he might extort still greater advantages from a Pontiff intent on promptly settling every divisive element in Italian politics, made several demonstrations against the ecclesiastical territory. But the temporising Nicholas had been succeeded by a practical and energetic statesman, who at once ordered the Count of Urbino to protect the interests of the Church.[99] In the following spring an interview between the rivals, in token of their perfect reconciliation, was brought about by the Duke of Milan. It took place in presence of a numerous and noble concourse, witnesses to studied displays of affectionate cordiality, which on one side were neither voluntary nor sincere.

---

THOSE readers who have thus far followed our narrative of Count Federigo's military career may perhaps regret that its somewhat limited and monotonous interest should not have been varied by glimpses of his domestic life. A prince whose engagements were observed with rare fidelity, whose chivalrous honour was happily combined with practical good sense and unflinching justice, must have been almost necessarily a good husband and kind master. But, in accordance with the habits of his age and the calls of his condottiere profession, most of his time was passed in the field, and unfortunately in those times few bards and biographers considered any incense worth offering which did not savour of

"The pomp and circumstance of glorious war."

His marriage with Gentile being hopelessly barren, he had followed the example of his father by obtaining papal briefs of legitimation, in 1454, for his natural sons Buonconte and Antonio. With the latter we shall make acquaintance by and by; the former, a youth of remarkable promise, is supposed to have been his destined heir,[100] but having been sent on a mission to Alfonso at Naples, in October, 1458, he died there of the plague; and another brother, Bernardino, who had accompanied him on that journey, scarcely survived his return. Berni, speaking from personal knowledge of these two princes, applies to them Virgil's high-flown compliment to Marcellus:—

"Ah, couldst thou break through Fate's severe decree, A new Marcellus shall arise in thee! Full canisters of fragrant lilies bring, Mixed with the purple roses of the spring; Let me with funeral flowers his body strew."[101]

These bereavements probably predisposed their father to a proposal made to him at Mantua by the Duke of Milan, that he should marry his niece Battista Sforza, daughter of the Lord of Pesaro, whose descent we have already explained, and who was now about thirteen years of age.[102] Her mother's death, when she was but eighteen months old, had occasioned her being carried at an early age to the court of Milan, where those gifts and endowments were well cultivated for which her mother and great-grandmother had been renowned. Nearly of an age with her cousin Hippolita Maria, one of the paragon princesses of her age, whose marriage to the heir presumptive of the Neapolitan crown we have noticed, she shared her laborious education, and amply redeemed her own hereditary claim to the talents and classical acquirements then in vogue among the pedantic dames of Italy. With the like showy scholarship and precocious command of Latin rhetoric to which her female predecessors had been trained, she was put forward to welcome illustrious visitors at Milan and Pesaro, in harangues which we are assured were sometimes prepared, sometimes extempore, but always elegant and appropriate.[103] The same contemporary authority attributes her engagement with Federigo to the influence of King Alfonso immediately upon Gentile's death; but the dispensation is dated the 4th of October, 1459,[104] and in the following month the betrothal took place at Pesaro, where great satisfaction was displayed, and a donation of 3000 bolognini, or 75 florins, was voted by the council to Alessandro, of which he would accept but two-thirds. The marriage was celebrated at Urbino, on the 10th of February, 1460; and we turn to Sanzi's Chronicle, in the hope of finding some interesting details commemorated by an eye-witness. These pomps are, however, unfortunately curtailed by the poet, anxious to resume the dull recital of little wars. He describes the bride as

"A maiden With every grace and virtue rare endowed, That heaven at intervals on earth vouchsafes, In earnest of the bliss reserved on high."

Muzio most unaccountably omits all notice of the marriage; we, however, learn from Betussi that she was tiny in person, but inherited the gifts and eloquence of her grandmother, Battista di Montefeltro. These she publicly exercised at Mantua, in an oration addressed to Pius II., and answered in a compliment dictated either by his gallantry or critical acumen. Bernardo Tasso has pleasingly embodied the testimony of her contemporaries:—

"The first of them in equal favour holds Demosthenes and Plato; reading, too, Plotinus, while, in wisdom as in words, Arpino's orator she well shall match; Consort of one unconquered, Frederick, Urbino's Duke and long-tried champion."[105]

Yet much learning distracted her not from the practical affairs of life. During her husband's ever-recurring absences, she administered his state with singular propriety, besides bringing him many children. On the fourth day after the ceremony, Federigo left his capital to visit the Pope at Siena, where he was magnificently entertained, returning home to pass the carnival with his bride.

New elements of discord were meanwhile fermenting, by which the Turkish crusade was indefinitely postponed. The popularity gained by the noble character of Alfonso of Naples, and confirmed by his residence in Italy, descended not to his successor. Ferdinand was already unfavourably known, from his sombre and revengeful temper, his falsehood and avarice; yet we look in vain for provocations or grievances adequate to justify the factious proceedings of his great barons. Resolved to supplant him, they made overtures to Jean, King of Navarre, the successor to Alfonso's hereditary dominions, whose eldest son, Count Viane, had already gathered golden opinions in Lower Italy. But Jean, more anxious to consolidate his kingdom than to augment it by outlying appendages, declined interfering, and the malcontents turned to the Angevine claimant of the Neapolitan crown. René the Good still reigned in Provence, occupied with his pen and pencil, and better fitted to be the bard of chivalry than its hero. His son, the titular Duke of Calabria, had established himself at Genoa in 1458, with almost sovereign authority, on the invitation of her citizens, who, finding themselves worsted in a contest, unwisely renewed by Alfonso, after the peace of Lodi, in order to avenge himself of the obstinately Angevine policy of that republic, naturally called to their aid his French rival. The Duke's winning qualities, and the sound judgment which he had manifested in their service, were well calculated to render him a competitor very formidable to the unprepossessing Ferdinand. The Genoese, whose hearts he had thus gained, were ready to back him with a naval armament, reinforced by some galleys originally fitted out at Marseilles for the Turkish expedition, but placed by Charles VII. at René's disposal. Florence, a tried partisan of the Angevine succession, was faithful to her prescriptive policy, and now urged upon Venice the recent grudge which both republics owed to Alfonso of Aragon. But it was in vain that the Duke sought support from Francesco Sforza and the Pope. The former, with comprehensive glance, calculated the risks of French domination in Italy, and took his stand on the treaty of Lodi, which, uniting all her powers in one solemn national league, guaranteed the succession of Naples. He therefore respectfully declined from the Angevine candidate the same bribe which Celestine had vainly offered him of his father's holdings in the Abruzzi, and during the Congress at Mantua confirmed the Pontiff's inclination for the Aragonese dynasty.

In October, 1459, the Duke of Calabria made a descent on the Neapolitan coast, and his arrival gave the signal for an almost universal rising of the great barons of the kingdom. At this crisis of his fortunes, Ferdinand succeeded, through the Duke of Milan's strenuous exertions, in detaching from the Angevine party Venice and Florence, which assumed a neutral position. He also summoned Piccinino from schemes of personal aggrandisement in La Marca, to defend his crown; but that greedy freebooter, indignant at being called off his quarry, took the usual licence of condottieri, and opened a correspondence with his master's competitor. Warned of this by the Count of Urbino, the King and the Duke of Milan made every effort to retain Giacopo under the banner of Aragon, and we are assured that the Count, in their interest, went so far as to promise him a surrender of part of his newly recovered territory, should the adventurer not make good for himself any other seigneury.[106] But trusting little to that slippery soldier, they desired Federigo and the Lord of Pesaro to concert measures for preventing his march into the Abruzzi. Their precautions were, however, defeated, for Piccinino, who then lay in Romagna, sent his baggage and camp-followers to be embarked at the nearest ports, and partly by dexterously misleading them as to his route, chiefly by forced marches of extraordinary rapidity, in three days scoured the Adriatic coast, and reached the Tronto without impediment. On the last day he is said to have done fifty miles, with twenty squadrons of men-at-arms and two thousand infantry—a feat which cost him many horses, and which he was believed to have effected by aid of the Lady of Loretto, before whose shrine he found time to prefer a passing orison. Possibly more important to his success was the adhesion of Ercole d'Este, and of the Lords of Rimini and Camerino, to the cause of Anjou, as well as orders privately given by the papal legate to accelerate the passage of his formidable company through the ecclesiastical territory.

Although the army of the League, following closely on that of Piccinino, had crossed the Tronto early in April, it was unable to effect a junction with Ferdinand, in consequence of the eastern side of the kingdom having risen against him, and of the passes being all well guarded. In this state of affairs the King's defeat at Sarno rendered his prospects still more gloomy, and his only remaining hope seemed to rest on the confederate force in the Abruzzi. It consisted of a strong contingent from Lombardy, led by Bosio Sforza, and of a less important brigade of ecclesiastical troops, besides the hardy mountaineers of Montefeltro and the well-tried company of Alessandro Sforza, the whole commanded by the Count of Urbino. It was kept in check by Piccinino's army, superior especially in infantry and cross-bowmen, although of late considerably weeded of the Braccian veterans, many of whom had taken service under the Lords of Pesaro and Urbino.

In July these contending armaments were in presence at San Fabbiano, on the Tordino, the Angevines encamped on the hill-side, the Aragonese in the plain, separated by a considerable extent of intervening level ground, on which marauding or exploring parties from each camp daily met. During one of these skirmishes, a defiance was given by Nardo da Marsciano to Francesco della Carda to break a lance, which was cheerfully accepted; and the challenge being repeated by Serafino da Montefalcone, it was taken up by one Fantaguzzo da S. Arcangelo. Two days were allowed for preparations, and, when the encounters took place, victory declared for the Aragonese knights, who, by order of Piccinino, were crowned with laurel, and escorted back to their camp by a pompous array of martial music. While aiding to keep the lists, Federigo, in making a dash at a straggler, spurred his charger, which suddenly bounding, so wrenched his back that he was rendered incapable of motion, and was lifted from his horse in exquisite pain. Being put to bed, with the prospect of a tedious cure, a council of war was held in his tent, when Alessandro Sforza, the next in command, advocated a general action; but the Count spoke long and strongly in favour of defensive tactics, and of saving the troops from continual skirmishes, exhausting to their strength and temper. The latter opinion was unanimously approved of; but Alessandro having exclaimed, with some show of mortified feeling, "You, however, have thrice had a tussle with the enemy," Federigo replied, "Well then, you may do the same, but with two or three squadrons only, not putting the whole encampment under arms." Accordingly, two days after,[107] a partial onset was made, which, as both sides were supported by repeated reinforcements, gradually brought on a general action. The battle, thus commenced without plan or object, became a disorderly pell-mell fight, and hence, probably, its results were far more fatal than the usually bloodless engagements of hired companies, more anxious about their own safety than the cause which they supported for the nonce. Little can be gathered from the confused accounts of the Urbino writers, and that of Simonetta is obviously incomplete. From the latter it would seem that the Braccians strove to cross a deep ditch in front of their quarters, whilst Ricotti makes them successful in breaking through the enemy's line, too much extended under an apprehension of being outflanked by superior numbers. Again, the biographers of Federigo tell us that, learning the impending loss of a battle brought on against his advice, he rose from bed, had himself swathed in bandages, and, though unable to don his armour, was lifted on horseback, heading a charge of the reserve, which, although not crowned by victory, averted a certain and signal defeat. The contest was prolonged when night had closed in, and, after seven hours of severe fighting, the combatants withdrew to their respective quarters. Baldi, who dwells very fully on the Count's gallantry, quoting contemporary manuscripts, mentions that two horses were killed under him: but his courage was shown in triumphing over the agony of his malady even more than by exposing himself in the brunt of a battle which had become almost desperate. His conduct in both respects was done justice to by his followers, and much of his military reputation dated from the disastrous fight of San Fabbiano. It is to be regretted that no return of its casualties has reached us, as it would have been curious to know the losses of the most bloody action of this age. Berni merely says that 400 horses and many men were slain. As to its immediate consequences, our authorities are again at issue. Simonetta, the historian of the Sforzas, and, consequently, a partisan of the League, admits that, though apparently a drawn battle, the disadvantage was greatly on the allies' side; that a portion of their troops fled from the field, and never drew bridle until they had crossed the Tronto, followed by the rest, during the stillness of the subsequent night. Sismondi also claims a victory for the Angevines, with the loss to their opponents of all their baggage and most of their horses. On the other hand, Baldi quotes two contemporary authorities, one of them a spectator, to prove that Federigo's army sacrificed scarcely more than four hundred horses, and that he did not break up his cantonments for at least ten days later, and even then only in consequence of progressive disaffection in the Abruzzi. He admits, however, that the confederate army exhibited a most pusillanimous spirit, and, but for their captain-general's exertions and authority, would have actually done what Simonetta lays to their charge, instead of eventually retiring beyond the Tronto rapidly, but in good order, with baggage and wounded, their retreat covered by a succession of ambuscades, which checked and severely punished the columns of Piccinino, while in disorderly pursuit.

The tournament which preluded this mortal strife proves that a spirit of chivalry still animated the Italian condottieri,[*108] who, in the words of Dante,

"Hired to a hireling, still with hirelings fights, Ne'er asks the cause of quarrel nor its rights."

An anecdote of Federigo which occurred a few days later illustrates the same feeling. Piccinino, informed by spies of the panic prevailing among the allies, sought by all means to aggravate it, in order to rid himself of them without further bloodshed. He, therefore, on various pretexts, sent into their camp bearers of bad news, and exaggerated rumours from the south. One of these emissaries, being taken before the Count and asked what tidings, represented himself as commissioned by Giacopo to request that their plate and valuables might not be sent away, as he wished to have them for his own special use. Federigo, though blessed with uncommon command of temper, was irritated by this boastful and ill-timed insult, and, starting to his feet, exclaimed, "Reply to Piccinino, or whoever else sent you on this mission, that he who would win my property will have enough to do, and must first stake his own." Then, looking towards the sun, he added, "It is now late, but to-morrow I shall inquire by what means he is to get them." In the morning he accordingly sent his secretary, Paltroni, to inform the General that, having received such a message in his name, he desired to know how he proposed to gain these things, by pitched battle or single combat; that he was welcome to choose what way he pleased, as they would be well defended against one or many. But Giacopo repudiated the bravado imputed to him, and sent back the envoy with many compliments, so that this intended discouragement was, by the Count's tact, converted into a sort of triumph, at the expense rather than to the advantage of his designing adversary.

Ferdinand having lost every place of importance but his capital, the cause of Aragon was now most critically situated; and had the Duke of Calabria moved directly upon Naples, there can be little doubt that the French dynasty would have been seated, and probably established, upon the throne of one of the Sicilies. But he let slip the favourable moment, influenced it is said by Orsini, Prince of Tarento. Such was the predominance enjoyed by this overgrown feudatory, that Alfonso had conceived a marriage with his niece Isabella sufficient to secure the crown to Ferdinand; yet was he the first to disturb the succession, and his whole power had been directed against her husband. It is said that love or duty, ambition or pique, working on woman's wit, induced her to hazard an appeal to her uncle's mercy, and that, disguised as a Franciscan monk, she made her way to his tent, where her expostulations moved the stern baron to give breathing time to Ferdinand, by diverting the Angevine arms from the capital to less important places. Simonetta, omitting this little romance of history, ascribes Orsini's policy to the selfish motive of prolonging a civil war which augmented his individual importance. Under this pressing necessity all thoughts of the Turkish crusade were abandoned; and even Pius postponed to a more fitting season, what he regarded as the cause of Christendom, in favour of one which Sforza had satisfied him was that of Italy. Both these sovereigns promptly advanced subsidies, and a small contingent of troops from Lombardy arrived in the confederate camp. The Count of Urbino's service as captain-general expired in September, when he would gladly have quitted a cause forsaken apparently by fortune, in order to protect home interests, always in peril from his neighbour of Rimini. But he was persuaded to accept a renewed engagement from the Pontiff, who in the autumn was recalled from Siena by the exigency of his capital.

Piccinino, consulting as much the advantage of his own company as that of the house of Anjou, made a descent upon the Sabine territory, and scoured the rich Campagna, until the Romans, tracing from their walls his path of fire, trembled for their insecure city. The army of the League was summoned in all haste for its defence, but their march was delayed by divided councils and private aims, the leaders being averse to leaving exposed their interests in Romagna; and had Giacopo ventured to attack the Eternal City, instead of intriguing with a few of her discontented inhabitants, he might have anticipated those scenes of plunder and outrage inflicted on her in the following century by the lawless host of the Constable Bourbon. But it was reserved for a French renegade, leading a horde of ultra-montane banditti, to strike a blow, from which the Italian condottiere may have recoiled as sacrilegious. Fortunately, Federigo was thus spared the disgrace which tarnishes his grandson Duke Francesco Maria I., of sacrificing the metropolis of Christendom to dilatory movements and selfish ends. After losing three months inactively on the Adriatic, the confederates advanced into the Sabine country, and recovered several places lately seized by the Angevines. November having arrived, both armies went into winter quarters; the Count of Urbino at Magliano, near Narni, where he learned that his departure from La Marca had encouraged Malatesta to seize upon Mondavio, which under the late arrangement had become his, Sinigaglia being re-annexed to the Church.

Federigo and Alessandro Sforza repaired to Rome for the Christmas ceremonies, when there occurred a singular proceeding, commemorated by Pius in his Commentaries. An advocate of the papal courts brought before a full consistory the malpractices of Sigismondo Malatesta in a formal pleading, accusing him of rapine, wilful fire-raising, slaughter, rape, adultery, incest, parricide, sacrilege, treason, lese-majesty, and heresy, and praying his Holiness to listen to the suppliant voices of those who could no longer endure the tyrant's cruel yoke, and to avenge them by at length freeing Italy from a foul and abominable monster, in whose cities no good man's life was safe. None having replied to this oration, the Count of Urbino and his neighbour of Pesaro resumed the charges, alleging that many of the culprit's worst enormities had been passed over; that his treacheries equalled the number of his transactions, that none ever trusted him without being betrayed, that he scoffed not at one or another point of faith, but at the whole evangelical system, in utter ignorance of religion. The Pontiff then, in a long speech, took credit for leniency, in not summarily consigning the offender to eternal perdition, and remitted the cause to the Cardinal of S. Pietro-ad-vincula. The report by his Eminence pronounced him guilty of all these crimes, and of disbelief in the resurrection or the soul's immortality; whereupon sentence went forth, depriving him of his state and dignities, and condemning him to the punishment of heresy. On a vast pile of combustibles raised before the steps of St. Peter's, was placed an effigy of Sigismondo from the mouth of which issued a scroll inscribed, "Here am I, Sigismondo Malatesta, son of Pandolfo, king of traitors, foe of God and man, condemned to the flames by a sentence of the sacred college." Fire being applied, the figure was consumed amid the curses of thousands, and in Easter week of 1461, formal excommunication went out against the brothers Malatesta.[109]

When spring permitted new operations, the League, by a series of petty successes, restored the papal authority in the revolted townships, and punished Savelli, one of the great Campagna chiefs who had sided with the Angevine pretender. Then crossing the frontier into the Abruzzi, Alessandro Sforza encompassed Sulmona, whilst Federigo, by a most difficult march among the Apennine sierras, made a successful foray upon the enemy's unprotected country. From thence he suddenly returned, on hearing that Pius contemplated retiring from Rome to Tivoli during the dog-day heats, and warmly remonstrated with his Holiness on risking his person among a proverbially treacherous population, by whom Piccinino had been recently welcomed. To these entreaties, seconded by the cardinals, the Pope replied that a residence among them was the surest means of recovering the affections of these citizens, and confirming their attachment to the Holy See. Thither accordingly he was escorted by the Count of Urbino with ten troops of horse; and the Pontiff dwells in glowing terms on their splendid horses, arms, and accoutrements, their shields glittering in the morning sun, their crests and morions dazzling beholders, each troop a forest of spears. "As they rode along the Campagna, Federigo, whose reading was extensive, inquired of his Holiness whether the generals of antiquity were armed like those of our day? Pius replied that all the weapons in actual use, as well as many now obsolete, may be found in Homer and Virgil, for though poets sometimes invent, yet they generally describe pretty correctly what has at some period existed. The conversation turning upon the Trojan war, which the Count endeavoured to depreciate, the Pontiff demonstrated its importance, and that its great reputation was not unfounded. Such pleasant and spirited discourse upon ancient history was prolonged between them to the Lucano Bridge, where the guard was dismissed; but, thereafter, his Holiness availed himself of a leisure moment at Tivoli to detail from Ptolemy, Strabo, Pliny, Quintus Curtius, Julius Solinus, Pomponius Mela, and other old authors, many appropriate particulars regarding Asia Minor and its limits, which had by chance been mentioned."

This interesting episode concluded, Federigo rejoined his army, and after accumulating vast booty from the villages, and carrying several fastnesses, dictated terms to the important city of Aquila. Thus passed the summer, and in October he was instructed to bring to obedience the Duke of Sora, who had thrown off allegiance to Ferdinand. Before attacking the town of that name he found it necessary to reduce the mountain fortress of Castelluccio, near the Garigliano; but its tiny garrison, availing themselves of a strong position, held out against the defective artillery of that day until a large force had assembled for its relief. These, however, met from him so warm a reception that they were glad to retire, and leave not only the place but all the duchy of Sora at his mercy. This service was most grateful to Pius, who gladly saw an enemy on his very frontier brought to terms. In the next consistory he remarked that "this captain of ours with his single eye sees everything," and addressed to him the following complimentary brief, which Muzio has preserved. "To our well-beloved son, health and apostolic benediction: We have been duly informed of the courage wherewith you have met the enemy, and in how short a time you have carried the stronghold you were beleaguering. These marvellous exploits content us much, and are worthy of your wonted prowess and magnanimity. Dear to us is your person, and we would cherish your worth and valour. Proceed as you have commenced, and daily add to your good offices in behalf of ourselves and of his Majesty: let it be your endeavour by every exertion to augment your reputation, and you shall always be the son of our benediction. From Rome, at St. Peter's, under the fisher's ring, this 1st of October, 1461, in the eighth year of our pontificate."

During the dead season Federigo visited the Pope and Ferdinand, to concert measures for the ensuing campaign, and on its opening was again obliged to proceed against the Duke of Sora, who had evaded a submission extorted from him in the autumn. It was not, however, by such petty achievements that the Neapolitan succession was to be settled. Nominally a republic, Genoa was really an oligarchy, the sport of rival factions; but there had long been a leaning to the Angevine alliance, and no support could have been more useful to that house in its pretensions upon Naples. Without command of the sea, such pretensions were absolutely vain, and that commercial community, situated between Provence and Lower Italy, not only secured to these a mutual intercourse, but formed a most available entrepôt for reinforcements and military stores. The French, originally received within its walls as allies, had become virtually masters of the maritime state; but in the spring of 1461 a popular revolution, occasioned by financial burdens consequent upon the Neapolitan war, and promoted by the Duke of Milan, overthrew the Angevine party, and obliged the French to seek shelter in the fortress. An army chosen from the chivalry of Languedoc and France was embarked at Marseilles to succour the Duke of Calabria, but his father directed the fleet conveying it to stand into the bay of Genoa, in hopes of easily re-establishing there the Angevine interests. He was, however, repulsed thence in July by a defeat so bloody and complete that his army was annihilated and his influence entirely overthrown. The cause of René, hitherto almost uniformly successful, never recovered this check, by which he lost at once a highly important reinforcement and a most serviceable ally. Other discouragements followed in rapid succession: the death of Charles VII. deprived him of a powerful coadjutor, the unlooked for convalescence of Francesco Sforza restored energy to his most active adversary, and a sudden descent upon Apulia by George Scanderbeg, the hero of Greece, with a seasonable reinforcement of Castriot horse, cheered Ferdinand's drooping spirits, and enabled him during the campaign of 1462 to recover his lost advantages.

Sigismondo Malatesta having recovered most of his territories in the previous year, Piccinino conceived the opportunity favourable for employing in the French interests his soldiery, no longer required for his own ends. He therefore dispatched an emissary with sufficient funds to retain some minor condottieri of Lombardy and Romagna, and to persuade Malatesta to march at their head into the Abruzzi. By this effort a force was raised which gave extreme uneasiness to the Pope for the safety of La Marca, and from which great expectations were raised by the Angevines, in the belief that it would promptly advance southward. There was thus little difficulty in allowing Federigo to hasten from the seat of war in order to meet this new danger; and although he hurried onwards with extraordinary rapidity, he reached Sinigaglia an hour after it had been treacherously surrendered to its former master, the Lord of Rimini. Sigismondo, alarmed at this unexpected descent, made overtures to his old rival in an altered tone, interlarding general professions of regard with many wily suggestions that their common interests would be far safer with Sinigaglia in his hands than in those of the Church. Without entering upon this view of the matter, Federigo replied that, being in the field not as Count of Urbino but as captain of his Holiness, such private considerations must be postponed to a more fitting moment.

The rising sun was gilding the slumbering Adriatic on the 12th of August, when the Count appeared before Sinigaglia, after a forced march from the Chiento, thirty long miles distant, effected within as many hours.[110] During that day his army passed the Nevola, and sat down within a bow-shot of the enemy's camp. Had Malatesta at once charged these toil-worn troops, his victory might have been complete; had he occupied the city, or kept possession of his own well-fortified entrenchments, he might have waited another opportunity for striking a decisive blow. But from folly or cowardice irreconcilable with the fair reputation he held among contemporary free captains, he adopted the extraordinary resolution of a retreat upon Fano, and shortly before midnight silently quitted his camp. Federigo was, however, on the alert, and throwing himself on horseback, sped on with a few mounted squadrons, whilst he ordered all his troops to follow with their utmost diligence. As he hurried forward, some of his staff, unaware of the precautions taken against surprise, remonstrated at the risk of thus rushing into danger; but he cheered them on, saying it was in like manner, and the same hour, and through this very country, that Claudius Nero had advanced after Asdrubal, when he beat and utterly overthrew him. Thus pressing onward he overtook the enemy at the streamlet of the Cesano, and with trumpet and shouts raised the cry to battle. Sigismondo, deeming it impossible for the army to follow after its severe exertions of the preceding night, conceived his pursuers to be but a handful of skirmishers whom it were well at once to dispose of. He therefore formed his rear-guard to receive their attack, thus giving the main body of his adversaries time to arrive. A full moon enabled the Count to perceive his advantage, without exposing his weakness; and, waiting until he was sufficiently supported, he charged with an impetuosity which cleared the rivulet, and so thoroughly routed the enemy that even their van felt the shock and took to flight. Before dawn Malatesta's army, although said to have outnumbered Federigo's as five to two, was scattered to the winds, whilst he escaped into Fano, and his eldest son to Mondolfo. The victor, after a day to recruit his men, withdrew into his own state, having no artillery wherewith to reduce Sinigaglia.

Sigismondo, ever prepared to cloak defeat by hypocrisy, sent a confidential envoy to the Count, charged with the same arguments and professions he had a few days before proposed to him, and commissioned to offer the hand of his eldest son Roberto for one of Federigo's infant daughters, in guarantee of their perfect reconciliation. For reply, the latter taunted him with his ever-broken faith, and rejected propositions which it would be dishonourable in him to entertain, as an officer of the Pope, whose service he infinitely preferred to amity or relationship with Malatesta. This negotiation being reported to his Holiness by the legate, was approved in the following papal brief addressed to Federigo.

"If it be as reported to us, that accomplished master of treason and wicked plotter of profanity, Sigismondo Malatesta, a true son of perdition, has attempted in many and various ways to undermine your still incorruptible faith; and this, as we have heard, and as you have in part informed us, since he was worsted and overthrown near Sinigaglia, nay, driven to a disgraceful flight, by your superior might and the bravery of your soldiers: and he has at the same time added that, if we reduce him to do our kitchen service and to set our meat in order, you too will end by becoming our muleteer; promising you, however, an alliance with his family, provided you will either reinstate him in our favour, or abstain from annoying him: but we are aware how wisely you replied to his folly, and how your good sense brought him to confusion. It is superfluous for us to advise you as to the most prudent course; we would but encourage you heartily to persevere and keep at him, letting slip no opportunity of oppressing and humbling the enemy, and that you do your utmost speedily to terminate this war, and to liberate us and yourself from a most rascally foe, with whom no terms of peace can ever be relied on. And do not imagine, however much our ally the King of France may desire a truce in the kingdom of Hither Sicily, including in it Sigismondo as his adherent, that we shall suffer any to interfere as arbiter or judge between us and our subjects, except the Holy See which we represent. Proceed then, conquer, destroy, and consume this accursed Sigismondo, and in him neutralise the poison of Italy. Which if you do, as we hope, you will be most dear not only to us, but to all our successors in time to come, and we shall acknowledge your deserts by such recompense as shall by all be considered adequate. It is not nobility that we hate, as is falsely asserted by him, but profligate and faithless nobles like himself, who has not hesitated to betray his mother and sovereign the Roman Church, and we shall not neglect to chastise him as God may give us opportunity. You, and all such as imitate your ways, we love right heartily, and shall honour and exalt to the utmost of our power while life endures, knowing well that authority is best maintained by punishments and rewards, and that in the opinion of all the world, Sigismondo has earned the former and you the latter. From Petriuolo with our own hand, this 6th of October, 1462."[111]

In implement of these promises, the Count, on the 3rd of November, received a commission as lieutenant-general of the ecclesiastical forces, which he had hitherto led as captain-general, and under his authority pursued with energy the invasion of his enemy's territory. On the 20th of September he obtained Mondavio, whose inhabitants averted a sack by paying 3000 ducats. This was followed by a surrender of the whole vicariat of Sinigaglia and territory of Fano, which he did his best to save from the miseries of war: but as it was necessary to keep his soldiery in good humour, he at Barchi allowed all the people to remove; then closing the gates, and disarming his men, he gave the word for a general assault upon the abandoned fortress, whose pillage was thus in some degree divested of the horrors usually attendant on such scenes, which are described by Sanzi in these feeling terms:—

"Alas, the wailing, the heart-rending woe! The modest mansions and proud palaces, The towers and petty castles, all o'erthrown; Their dwellers madly rushing here and there, Their women weeping in dishevelled garb, Imploring mercy for their little ones! Ah, cruel fates, ah, tendencies accursed! Such, Malatesta! the embittered fruits Of thy dissensions and audacious deeds. Unwearied foe to peace! How numerous The victims of thy countless crimes, who thus Their substance see in ashes or despoiled, Themselves imprisoned and impoverished."

The Count now carried his victorious arms into the country of Rimini, and, after taking Mondaino, laid siege to Montefiori, which capitulated on the 22nd of October, when Giovanni, a son of Sigismondo, was made prisoner. Being demanded by the papal legate, it was not without considerable discussion that a preferable claim to his ransom was established for the lieutenant-general, who proved that the war was on his part one neither of selfishness nor vengeance, by freely restoring his liberty and personal effects, and escorting him in person from the camp with many kind and consolatory expressions. It is curious to contrast this chivalrous conduct with the unworthy trick by which Federigo dexterously, and apparently without any stain upon his good name, gained the citadel of Verucchio after the town had surrendered. He caused a letter, forged in the name of Sigismondo, and fastened with an old impression of his seal,[112] to be transmitted to the castellan, informing him that on a stated night a reinforcement of twenty men would arrive, whom he should be prepared to admit. At the indicated hour a detachment stealthily approached the gate, which was hastily opened to them on an alarm rising in the besieger's camp; rushing upon the guard, they were quickly supported by their confederates, and the place was carried ere the garrison were aware that they had admitted enemies in the guise of friends. The few remaining weeks of open weather sufficed to reduce all the territory of Rimini, with most of that around Cesena; and when the snow fell Federigo repaired to Verucchio, whence he blockaded the city of Rimini during the winter.

The misfortunes thus heaped upon Malatesta were paralleled by those which befel the Angevine cause. Hastening to obtain succours from Piccinino, he found him paralysed by an almost equally decisive defeat received before Troia on the 18th of August. Within a month the Prince of Tarento gave his adherence to Ferdinand, a clear proof that the star of Aragon was in the ascendant; and although this example was not adopted by Giacopo until the following autumn, his intermediate exertions were directed to securing the means of dictating favourable terms for himself, rather than to saving the Duke of Calabria from reverses rapidly accumulating around him. In August, 1463, he made his peace, receiving Sulmona and many adjoining townships as a sovereign principality, and in spring the Duke, whose footing had during many months been limited to the island of Ischia, returned to Provence, finally abandoning his pretensions to Lower Italy. These evil tidings are said to have found his father René so absorbed in painting a partridge that the loss of a kingdom neither shook his hand nor ruffled its plumage.

After his bootless visit to the Angevine camp Sigismondo turned for aid to Venice, and obtained the Signory's mediation with Pius in his behalf. But the Pontiff, by a long allocution recorded in his Commentaries, justified to their ambassador the strong measures required against so incorrigible an offender, who thereupon directed his energies to providing Fino and Rimini with means of resistance. In the reopening campaign his opponent's first measure was to bring Macerata and some other mountain fastnesses to terms, for which the noise of his guns sufficed. Thence he descended upon Fano, then held by Roberto Malatesta, and after the manner of the age preluded his attack by gathering in the harvest that awaited the townspeople's sickles. This delay allowed the languid ecclesiastical levies to arrive, and in July the siege was formed. Under a system of improved warfare few places would be more untenable, its position affording it no natural advantages, and lying open to assault by sea or land. It was otherwise in the infancy of artillery and military engineering. Much time and labour and some lives were expended before the besiegers' pieces could be brought to bear, or be protected from the heavy stones, weighing each 300 pounds, which were fired upon them from the ramparts. Sigismondo commanded the sea by means of vessels chartered at Venice, supplying the place with men, ammunition, and provisions; and although his fleet was seriously damaged by a flotilla of boats hastily manned by Federigo's orders, communications were quickly re-established under protection of some Venetian galleys: after these had been recalled, in consequence of urgent representations made to the Signory on behalf of the Pope, this service was performed by two Angevine galleys hired by Malatesta for the purpose. Neither perseverance nor courage in its proper sense were qualities of the Italian soldiery, even in their age of military reputation, and the discouragement resulting from this state of affairs was so aggravated by a terrific thunder-storm, under cover of which a sally captured their artillerymen and dismounted their guns, that it was with the utmost difficulty, and only by urgent representations to Pius himself, the lieutenant-general could keep his troops together. Aware that success constituted his best hold upon them, he redoubled his exertions, and in a short time had the satisfaction not only of remedying these reverses, but of seeing his operations put on a really satisfactory footing. The prospect of pillage now carried his army to the opposite extreme; they could not be restrained from an assault, which they gave with such impetuosity that the terrified citizens capitulated whilst Roberto with his mother and sisters retired into the castle. These ladies, remembering the Count's generous conduct to their Giovanni at Montefiori, and preferring his clemency to the risks of further resistance, induced Roberto to surrender it on the third day, before a shot had been fired in its defence. The conditions appear to have been a general assurance of protection to persons and property; and when the Malatesta family presented themselves before their conqueror, the ladies in convulsive grief, he was assailed by persuasions from the legate and most of his officers and advisers—

"To keep the word of promise to the ear, And break it to the sense."

They urged upon him that, in dealing with an enemy who had again and again set good faith at defiance, it was weakness to adhere to a capitulation, and thus lose the opportunity at length offered by fortune of avenging past injuries on the son of his foe; at all events that, under provocations so aggravated, he would be amply justified in observing the terms rather to the letter than in their spirit, and in exacting an ample ransom for his prisoners, as Sigismondo would, in the like circumstances, have assuredly done. These suggestions, though entirely conformable to the morality and honour of the age, were rejected by Federigo, to whose candid and generous mind they seemed mere sophistry. He, therefore, not only liberated the Malatesta, but escorted them to the place of their embarkation for Rimini. Pius has himself recorded the feelings with which he learned the fall of Fano. Rising from table, he spread his hands towards heaven, and poured forth thanks to the Almighty, who thus loaded him with benefits. After which, he said apart, "There is now nothing to keep me at home; God calls me to his own war, and lays open the way; there is no reason for further delay." These, however, were projects destined to remain unfulfilled.

The moral influence of the Count's moderation, as well as of his success, was proved in the speedy surrender of Mondolfo and Sinigaglia, by which the whole vicariat finally passed from the Malatesta, and lapsed to the Church. Fano has ever since been included in the ecclesiastical territory, but Sinigaglia, conferred by Sixtus IV. on his nephew, Giovanni della Rovere, son-in-law of Federigo, became the cradle of the second ducal dynasty of Urbino, and an integral portion of their duchy. In order to reduce what remained of the Rimini fiefs, the Count presented himself before the stronghold of Gradara, a mountain village, even now retaining some interesting memorials of the Malatesta, which quickly followed the example of Sinigaglia,[113] as did Maiuolo, Penna di Billi, and S. Agata, in Montefeltro.

Accident now intervened to save Sigismondo from utter destruction. Some disputes between Venice and the Emperor, originating in commercial jealousies, exposed Trieste to an attack by the former. It happened that Pius, having been bishop of that place, interposed in his behalf. The Venetian Signory had observed with jealousy the progress of the Church along the Adriatic, which they looked upon as their own lake, and where their ascendancy was apparently secure, so long as its western sea-board continued to be partitioned among petty feudatories and communities. Their plan of indirectly thwarting the siege of Fano having failed, they seized this opportunity of making the recal of their armament against Trieste conditional upon an arrangement between his Holiness and Malatesta, urging that it ill became him to preach Christian union as a preliminary to the Turkish crusade, whilst he pertinaciously instigated a selfish contest. It was not easy to evade or answer a plea which appealed to the Pontiff's ruling passion, especially as apprehensions began to be entertained that Sigismondo might in desperation sell his services, or even his territory, to the Infidel. Availing himself of this favourable opening, the culprit sent envoys from Rimini to Rome, to sue for peace on any terms. Those dictated by Pius were abundantly stringent to gratify vengeance and disarm apprehension. In order to expiate his flagrant heresies, commissioners, formally authorised by him, were to appear in the church of the Santissimi Apostoli, on a festival, during celebration of mass, and there publicly confess and recant their master's atheistical tenets. As an atonement for his treasons and temporal misdeeds, his possessions were forfeited to the Church, except Rimini and a few miles of the surrounding country, his conquests from Federigo being at the same time restored. Conditions of nearly equal severity were imposed on Malatesta of Cesena, and the remnant of territory allowed to the brothers was continued to them only during life, under burden of a heavy annual tribute. But for the imperious Sigismondo there was reserved a deeper humiliation. As the bishop who was commissioned to raise the interdict approached his capital, he and his people met him in suppliant guise. Proceeding to the cathedral, the prelate set forth the sins of the sovereign, and imposed upon the community three days of fasting and penance, with suspension of Divine ministrations. At the end of that interval, Sigismondo appeared on his knees before the bishop at the high altar, to acknowledge his errors, implore their remission, and pledge his future obedience: whereupon he and his people, who crowded around in the same abject attitude, were absolved, and received the benediction.

Thus ended twenty-four years of strife between Sigismondo and Federigo, which, necessarily occupying our narrative, may have unduly taxed the patience of our readers. When it began, the Malatesta owned the whole coast from Cervia and Cesena to the Fiumisino, near Ancona. Had their conduct equalled their daring ambition, they might, by acquiring the comparatively unimportant fiefs of Urbino, Durante, and Gubbio, and by absorbing the petty holdings which adjoined their northern frontier, have established a powerful state in the fairest and strongest provinces of Central Italy. But when the struggle closed, it left them but a precarious life-interest in mere fractions of that ample territory, the rest of which had gone to enrich the Church, or to aggrandise their especial enemies, the Montefeltri and the Sforza. The portion now accruing to Federigo, by authority of the Pope and the consistory, included about fifty townships between the Foglia and the Marecchia, which had been partly seized from himself and his predecessors, partly held as debatable land, subject to the strongest, but which henceforward continued incorporated with Urbino.

---

THE three years and a half which had now passed since the Count's marriage had been spent by him almost entirely in active service. During his long absences, the state was in a great measure administered by Countess Battista, who, notwithstanding her youth, is said to have held the reins of government with admirable firmness and good sense, as well as with a leniency and gentleness which conciliated universal popularity.[114] The remainder of his life had a more peaceful destiny, for not only was his almost domestic foe Malatesta now reduced to harmless insignificance, but Italy enjoyed comparative respite from her normal condition of unceasing strife. We are assured that Federigo turned to excellent account the opportunities this afforded for attending to the internal affairs of the duchy, and ameliorating the position of his people. But his biographers, deeming these objects much less momentous than his military exploits, have unfortunately left us almost in the dark regarding occupations and measures so infinitely more important, as distinguishing his views from those of his age and order. Of the laws which he promulgated, the manner of enacting and administering them, the organisation and exercise of justice, the operation and limits of popular rights, the extent and value of municipal suffrages, the system of taxation and finance, the tendency and usage of trade, the statistics of the duchy, the internal condition and well-being of the people, we scarcely obtain a hint from those who prolixly dwell upon battle-fields, detail sieges, and trace countermarches, few of which offer variety of tactics or interesting results. Neither are manuscript authorities in this respect more useful than the published memoirs, for most of those we have seen are adulatory compositions, occupied only with matter calculated to enhance our appreciation of their hero as a successful general or patron of letters, but utterly neglecting the internal policy of his government. The peculiar quality of his mind unquestionably was that strict observance of good faith, a total absence of which is the fatal characteristic, the indelible stain of his age. There is thus every reason to believe that the conditions imposed upon him at his succession in 1443 would be rigidly fulfilled, and we have discovered no complaint ever made against him of their non-observance. They provide, according to the lights then enjoyed, for a popular election and control of magistrates, reduction of burdens, fiscal reforms, public education, and medical aid, restrictions on the prerogative in so far as it sheltered abuses,—and it is obvious that, if carried out in their true spirit, they must have offered no mean guarantees against such tyranny as the recent historian of the Ausonian Republics has sweepingly charged upon all mediæval dynasties.

The few notices of his government wherewith Baldi has favoured us savour of those minute and paternal attentions which ensure to a prince great personal popularity. He tells us that the Count commissioned certain persons called revisors to perambulate the state, and investigate the condition of the people. Among the matters specially committed to them were these: To inquire into the requirements of the religious houses; to ascertain where maidens of good reputation were unable from poverty to obtain husbands; to inform themselves secretly as to modest paupers; to learn what traders or shopkeepers were distressed by large families, debts, or any particular misadventure. In order to secure efficiency to this charitable espionage, these officers were privileged to pass at all times into the sovereign's presence, and it is said that a porter or groom of the chambers, who had rudely denied one of them access, was summarily punished by a public whipping. Following up this system, the Count, in his daily walks or rides, used to call to him the citizens individually, questioning as to their welfare and circumstances, or encouraging them in any enterprise or building they had undertaken. "But," continues the Abbot of Guastalla, "to such details we do not descend, as do some writers, overscrupulous about trifles; nor shall we tell how, on daily recurring occasions, he interfered to maintain the poor, to arrest litigation, to secure a pure administration of justice, to protect the honour of families, and to recompense his diligent servants. Still less do we collect his witty jests and pleasant sayings, as these are things far too petty and unbecoming the gravity of history, besides which, they all or most of them live in the memory and mouths of the people. But since splendour is a virtue peculiar to great princes, we shall touch upon some circumstances regarding the nobleness, the numerical grandeur, and the magnificence of his court."[115]

This passage fairly represents the pervading spirit of Italian biographies and local histories, though probably containing a latent sneer from Baldi at the earlier work of Muzio, whose "petty details," with those scantily supplied by Vespasiano, will be greedily gathered in a future page of this volume. Little deemed the reverend pedant how independent the historic muse would become of the stilts on which he, and many of his contemporaries, so unfortunately elevated her, or how infinitely posterity would have preferred his despised omissions to his solemn prosings! Nor is this our only complaint. His illustrations of the Urbino court, thus magniloquently ushered, consist of a dull catalogue of twelve or fifteen noble names, ending with an apology for such trespass on his reader's patience, and a reference to some unpublished manuscript for details. This excuse is offered after devoting six pages, out of eight hundred, to the home interests and adminstrations of his hero. In supplement to these unsatisfactory allusions, we have recourse to such MSS. as detail the establishment which gained for Federigo's court the high reputation it enjoyed as a model of princely taste and munificence. Its constitution may be seen at a glance, from this minute return of its members, by one of their number.[116]

Counts of the duchy, and from other states	45
Knights of the Golden Spur	5
Gentlemen	17
Judges and councillors	2
Ambassadors and secretaries [at Naples, Rome, Florence, Milan, and Siena]	7
Secretaries of state	5
Clerks in chancery [or public offices]	14
Teachers of grammar, logic, and philosophy [including Maestro Paolo, astrologer, and Gian Maria Filelfo]	4
Architects and engineers [Luziano, Francesco di Giorgio, Pipo the Florentine, Fra Carnevale, and Sirro of Casteldurante]	5
Readers during meals	5
Transcribers of MSS. for library [besides many abroad]	4
Chaplains	2
Choristers of the chapel	3
Singing boys	5
Organists	2
Workers in tapestry	5
Dancing-masters for the pages	2
Dancing-masters	2
Apothecary	1
Master of the palace keys	1
Chamberlain	1
Master of the household	1
Treasurer	1
Chamber attendants	5
Pages	22
Carvers and sewers	3
Stewards of the buttery	4
Storekeepers	2
Purveyors	3
Grooms of the chamber	19
Table waiters	19
Footmen	31
Cooks	5
Various menial servants	8
Masters of horse and purveyors of the stable	5
Servants under them	50
Keeper of the bloodhounds	1
Keeper of the camel-leopard	1
Total household of the Duke	317

Captains in constant pay	4
Colonels of infantry	3
Trumpeters	6
Drummers	2
Master-armourers	3

HOUSEHOLD OF COUNTESS BATTISTA AND HER CHILDREN.

Ladies in waiting	7
[After the Duchess's death, Madonna Pantasilea Baglione, sister of Brozo Baglione of Perugia, was made governess to the Princesses.]
A great many female attendants.
Elderly and staid gentlemen	6
Servants of Prince Guidobaldo when a child	7
Total establishment, so far as enumerated	355

In this list may be detected obvious omissions, such as almoner, librarians, heralds, &c., and it would be much increased by adding servants of the noblemen entertained at his court. Music appears only in the establishments of the chapel and of the guard, but in 1473, the Count was visited by Martino and Giorgio, two German lute-players, to whom he gave letters of recommendation on their departure for Siena.

The contemporary notice by Vespasiano affords us some standard of the qualities of this court, which, not less than the martial prowess and intellectual superiority of its Montefeltrian princes, constituted the glory of Urbino. "His household was regulated much in the manner of a religious establishment, and the five hundred mouths which it contained lived with almost monastic regularity. There were no mess-table manners there, no gambling nor blasphemous language, and all expressed themselves with the utmost moderation. The Prince having been entrusted by several personages of high station with their sons, to be instructed in military service, he, with good regard also for their good breeding, placed them in charge of a gentleman from Lombardy of distinguished manners, long resident at his court [probably Odasio], who exercised over these youths a paternal sway, gaining their respectful deference, and correcting their little errors, until an exemplary carriage became habitual to them." Thus, too, Muzio: "Federigo maintained a suite so numerous and distinguished as to rival any royal household. For not only did the most distinguished chivalry resort to him as the first of Italian soldiers, but thither were sent youths of the highest rank, to be reared under his discipline, as to the most select of schools. And among the many personages who thus frequented his court were Giovanni della Rovere, Giulio and Francesco Orsini, Girolamo and Pier Antonio Colonna, Ranuccio and Angelo Farnese, Andrea Doria, and Gian Giacomo Trivulzio, with others of equal eminence. Attended by these, and by a concourse of gentlemen and servants, as well as by a crowd of citizens, he generally on festivals went to mass in procession, making a round of the great churches in their turn. And, on his return home, he would keep the burghers about him for a little in gracious conversation, or calling for his dispatches, communicated portions before kindly dismissing them."

One of the manuscripts just cited, which is entitled "Regulations and Offices for the Court of the most serene Lord Duke of Urbino," after insisting on a rigid observance of rules to be enforced by the master of the household, imposes upon that functionary an obligation to inform his lord privately of the arrival and quality of all strangers, that he might regulate the degree of hospitality to be extended to them. This was of three grades. Personages of the highest rank were received and lodged in the palace; those of less distinction in a separate building, attended on by the Prince's household; for a third class an inn was provided, where they were lodged at his cost, and at a fixed rate per head.[117] The liberal hospitalities of the court are thus mentioned by its chronicler Sanzi:—

"Nor ought we to omit the greetings kind And gracious, which with princely courtesy He gave to coming strangers, ne'er before Welcomed with gentler words, or phrase more cordial, His aspect cheerful and his carriage plain. Glorious was he in all things, but unmatched In hospitality; for never guest Arrived, such noble treatment hoping for, Or went his way without a lingering look Of friendly admiration."

His wide-spreading military renown, and the honourable reception thus accorded them, attracted visitors from all quarters, until Urbino attained that reputation as the resort of numerous celebrities which in the next generation rendered its little court a model to Europe, and which it never entirely lost while its independence lasted. But this concourse of guests, and the additional importance conferred upon the principality by considerable territorial aggrandisements, rendered a new palace necessary. Baldi mentions it as commenced about this time: Sanzi tells us it was undertaken to divert Federigo's grief for the death of his Countess in 1472; whilst Lazzari and the anonymous author of the Memoir regarding the devolution of the duchy to the Church in 1631 note 1454 as the date of its foundation. In truth, it was, like many great edifices in Italy, slowly progressive, spreading over several generations, and finally left unfinished. The same may be said of several other buildings promoted by the Count during his intervals of leisure, such as the palaces of Gubbio and Fossombrone, and the cathedral of Urbino; and it may be convenient in this place to notice those creations which are prominently set forth among the glories of his reign.

---

Of the three roads by which Urbino is approached, that on the south-west, leading from Tuscany, gives the most favourable view of the city, which is faithfully rendered on our frontispiece. The central mass of building, beautifully relieved by a stately spire-capped tower on either side of the grand entrance, and stretching backwards to the domed cathedral, is the palace which we are now to describe. The numerous accounts of it, repeated from one copyist to another in somewhat over-strained panegyric, have spread its fame throughout Italy, and the folio volume printed in 1724, at the expense of Cardinal Annibale Albani, was got up with an elaboration unusual in that age, but with the tasteless dulness which then pervaded literary and artistic efforts in Italy. The Abbate Pungileone has added little of importance by his tediously told investigations, and other local antiquaries have scarcely been more successful.[118]

In absence of further evidence, we may accept the doubtful testimony already quoted, that the palace was begun in 1454,[*119] but we must briefly refute the misstatement of Vasari, that its architect was Francesco di Giorgio. In our twenty-seventh chapter, we shall have occasion to notice much new matter regarding that artist, which recent inquiries have detected, and to show the nature and extent of his engineering labours in the service of the Montefeltrian princes. It appears that the palace at Urbino, usually ascribed to his design, was commenced by an architect whose name, almost overlooked by Italian writers, is preserved by Giovanni Sanzi. The motive imputed by the poet to his master in this great work is as follows:—

"Knowing how admirable and how grand By every people, every age, are deemed Time-honoured fabrics, and that active life No higher aim can follow."

And he goes on to inform us that

"The architect, set over all the rest, Was Lutian Lauranna, whose bright name Survives in excellence the knell of death. His apt and lofty genius ruled the work, With the Count's sanction, for no prince possessed A sounder judgment or a will more prompt."

The name of this artist was Luziano, son of Martini of Lovranna and Jadia in Dalmatia, and we owe to Pungileone an interesting patent in his favour, granted by Count Federigo at Pavia, on the 10th of June, 1468, in these terms:—

"Whereas, we, deeming those men to be worthy of distinction and preference who are gifted with such genius and talent as have been in all ages esteemed, especially for architecture founded upon arithmetic and geometry, which, as foremost among the seven liberal arts, and as depending upon exact science, require profound knowledge and great ability, and are therefore highly appreciated by us; and whereas, we, having sought everywhere, but particularly in Tuscany, the fountain of architects, without finding any one really versant and skilful in that profession, and having lately heard by report, and since ascertained by full experience, the learning and attainments of the distinguished Messer Lutiano, bearer hereof; and, further, we, having resolved to erect in our city of Urbino a fair residence, in all respects befitting the rank and reputation of our predecessors and ourselves,—have, for these causes, selected the said Messer Lutiano as engineer and chief of all those employed upon that fabric, in building, hewing, woodwork," &c. &c. The deed goes on to enjoin upon all the workmen implicit obedience to his orders, and to authorise his entire control over them, and over the funds destined for the palace.[120]

Although the date of this patent may appear inconsistent with that already adopted for the foundation of the Corte, as this residence was usually called, it is clear, from other documents printed along with it, that operations were already considerably advanced under the superintendence of Luziano. In the preceding year we find him designed the Count's engineer, acting as a sort of clerk of the works, and litigating with a builder from Como regarding measurements of masonry; indeed, he seems to have continued these duties until his death at Pesaro, soon after that of his patron, whose liberality enabled him to leave considerable property to his children.

The edifice thus commenced was carried on by Baccio Pontelli, a Florentine artist, who, though designing himself a carpenter, was much employed by Sixtus IV. to erect important fabrics in Rome. It is impossible now to decide whether he was at first assistant to Lauranna, or what portion of the Corte we owe to him, the entire credit of which seems claimed in a presumptuous epitaph, apparently of his own composition, which is given by Gaye.[121] He was employed upon it in 1481, when applied to by Lorenzo de' Medici to furnish a design or plan of the already famous work, a request handsomely responded to by Federigo, in that almost oriental exaggeration of compliment still usual in Lower Italy, with the assurance that such a wish was a command, and that he only regretted being unable to send him the building itself, of which he might fully dispose. Baccio's letter mentions it as then at the fifth story, and that his drawing had been done from actual measurements, thus proving he had no access to the original plan,—circumstances strongly presumptive that the design was not his, but that of Luziano, who lived till the following year. The praise bestowed by him on the carved ornaments and decorations render it probable that they had been under his peculiar charge. There is no evidence as to the length of Baccio's stay at Urbino, but he is said to have obtained the privileges of citizenship, and to have built the church of S. Bernardino and the castle of Sinigaglia.

Such are the architects whom recent investigations enable us to claim as authors of the palace at Urbino, which Vasari and many others have celebrated for the beauty and comfort of its internal arrangements, the magnificence of its saloons, the convenience of its imposing stairs; for its smiling chambers, its vast corridors, its airy porticoes and pleasant baths, its gilded doors and windows, its rich furniture, carpets, and brocades. The assertion of that writer, so often inaccurate as to Umbrian matters, ascribing its merit to Francesco di Giorgio, may now be considered as disposed of, notwithstanding the zeal with which his countrymen of Siena have reasserted his claims; but the lights lately thrown upon his performances by Promis of Turin, enable us to restore to him the credit of certain bellicose decorations, often imputed to Roberto Valturio, and which have attracted attention rather from their adaptation to the genius of Count Federigo than from their artistic value. They consist of a frieze of military machines, which Vasari mentions as painted in fresco, but which were carved in relief along the exterior basement of the palace: designs for most of these remain among the MSS. of Francesco, and they have been engraved and tediously explained in Bianchini's ponderous work. Their original object was no doubt to illustrate the pompous inscription which surrounds the great court in immense capitals.[122] After being injured and scattered, they were again collected about a century ago, and arranged by Cardinal Stoppani along the corridor of the principal story. They are each about three feet by two, rudely representing seventy-two engines long since disused in war, and interesting only to the antiquary. Among the sculptors employed upon them, and similar architectural ornaments in the Corte, was Ambrogio Baroccio of Milan, great-grandfather of a painter as to whom we shall have much to say in our fifty-third chapter.

We need not weary our readers by minute descriptions of the palace, which, upon near approach, hardly realises the imposing effect of its site. The rugged and broken ground on which it stands has, in a great degree, marred that unity of plan which is essential to architectural grandeur and harmony, augmenting at the same time the difficulties of construction. Notwithstanding this drawback, and the rambling character which a portion of the building has consequently taken, there is much beauty in the façade of the great court, and in the unfinished elevation towards the cathedral, although the brickwork is but partially cased with stone. Barbaro, in his commentary upon Vitruvius, cites the grand stair as a model of beauty and convenience, and the corridors of the principal story (enriched, since 1756, with the museum of antique sculpture and inscriptions collected by Raffaele Fabretti) are truly magnificent. From these open many splendid rooms, among which is the great hall, about one hundred and twenty feet in length, of noble proportions, and severe in a simplicity contrasting with the chromatic decorations usual in Italy. In its elevated niches were formerly placed the insignia of its lords and of their allies, but of these none remain save the winged lion of St. Mark, which still looks proudly down upon the deserted audience-chamber, where its envoys used to be deferentially received by those long-departed dukes who often bore its banner to victory. The next story, which from its ornaments and devices appears to have been finished by Duke Guidobaldo II., is the summer residence of the cardinal-legate of Urbino and Pesaro, and, consequently, is seldom shown.

Each of the towers seen in the engraving, and considered by Passavant as antecedent to Duke Federigo, contains a spiral staircase of curious construction, leading to balconies whence may be enjoyed a most characteristic prospect of the surrounding country, wherein

"Hills are not seen, but for the vales betwixt The deep indentings."

Fatigued by its uptossed and almost barren undulations, the eye turns for repose to the magnificent sierra, which bounds the horizon. On the extreme left is Monte Catria, crowned by the convent of S. Albertino, 5600 feet above the sea. Then comes Monte del Cavallo, described by Cimarelli as the most beautiful of all the Apennine chain, and named from the horses of famous race bred by the later princes of Urbino, on the luxuriant pastures of its gentle slopes and verdant meadows. Monte Nerone, so called from an

"Unwritten story fondly traced From sire to son,"

which tells that the blood-stained tyrant of Rome once dwelt there, is supposed to be a slumbering volcano. Its rich iron ore was once highly productive, and the herbs and simples grown on it were esteemed above all others in Italy. Far on the sky-line are discerned the Sassi di Simeone, twin rocks of singularly abrupt form, separated by the Tuscan frontier. Northward from these stands the massive Monte Carpegna, cradle of the Montefeltrian race, domineering over their original fief, and giving its local name to the wind which sweeps from its heights upon the Adriatic. The mountain view terminates with the triple peaks of San Marino, isolated, it would seem, by nature, as well as by the forms of its constitution and the accidents of its history.

The merit specially dwelt upon in the old descriptions of this palace is the carved work in wood and stone, executed by sculptors brought from various places, and facilitated by the excellent quality of a close-grained grey limestone, imported from the Dalmatian coast. The most striking of its decorations are accordingly the elaborate tracery encircling the architraves, doorways, lintels, and chimneys, and running along the cornices. This consists of fine arabesque designs, mingled with dancing loves, and interlaced with military trophies and heraldic fancies, among which frequently occur the Garter of England, the Ermine of Naples, the Eagle of Montefeltro, with several monograms and devices usually worn by Count Federigo, the origin whereof is described in No. V. of the Appendices. A kindred art, here lavishly expended, is that of tarsia, or wood inlaying, which, unlike the more modern marquetrie, was enriched by pure arabesque designs, and even by historical or religious compositions. In this style, though now sadly defaced, were many of the doors, and especially the tiny chapel, with its adjoining sacristy, the latter elaborately panelled in varied scrolls, and bearing the titles of Federigo, with the date 1476. On the stone-work of this chapel occur the devices and initials of Duke Guidobaldo II., marking probably the alterations made by him.[123]

The following passage, often quoted from the commencement of Castiglione's Cortegiano, has given rise to considerable misapprehension:—"Among other laudable actions, Federigo erected, on the rugged heights of Urbino, a residence, by many regarded as the most beautiful in all Italy, and so amply provided with every convenience, that it appeared rather a palatial city than a palace. He furnished it not only with the usual plenishings of rich brocades in silk and gold, silver plate, and such like, but ornamented it with a vast quantity of ancient marble and bronze sculptures, of rare pictures, and musical instruments in every variety, excluding all but the choicest objects." Now, it so happens that, with every desire to verify what ought to be a valuable authority for a fact in itself most interesting, and especially probable of that prince, we have not been able to trace a single piece of sculpture, and hardly an easel picture, to his possession (a few portraits, of course, excepted), nor does one contemporary distinctly mention anything of the sort at Urbino. But whilst truth compels us to an admission calculated to impair his traditional reputation as an amateur of the fine arts, there was one branch of them which found in him a most zealous patron; and among the adornments of his palace was a treasure rivalling in beauty and excelling in importance all coeval museums of art.

To the right and left of the carriage entrance into the great court-yard are two handsome saloons, each about forty-five feet by twenty-two, and twenty-three in height. That on the left contained the famous library of manuscripts collected by Count Federigo; the corresponding one received the printed books, which, gradually purchased by successive dukes, became, under the last sovereign, a copious collection. Baldi, in his description of the palace, printed in Bianchini's work, dwells on the judicious adaptation of the former, its windows set high against the northern sky, admitting a subdued and steady light which invited to study; its air cool in summer, temperate in winter; its walls conveniently shelved; the character and objects of the place fittingly set forth in a series of rude hexameters inscribed on the cornices.[124] Adjoining was a closet fitted up with inlaid and gilded panelling, beneath which Timoteo della Vite, a painter whose excellence we shall attest in our thirtieth chapter, depicted Minerva with her ægis, Apollo with his lyre, and the nine muses with their appropriate symbols. A similar small study was fitted up immediately over this one, set round with armchairs encircling a table, all mosaicked with tarsia, and carved by Maestro Giacomo of Florence, while on each compartment of the panelling was the portrait of some famous author, and an appropriate distich. One other article of furniture deserves special notice—a magnificent eagle of gilt bronze, serving as a lectern in the centre of the manuscript room. It was carried to Rome at the devolution of the duchy to the Holy See, but was rescued by Pope Clement XI. from the Vatican library, and restored to his native town, where it has long been used in the choir of the cathedral.

Roscoe has well observed that "by no circumstance in the character of an individual is the love of literature so strongly evinced, as by the propensity for collecting together the writings of illustrious scholars, and compressing 'the soul of ages past' within the narrow limits of a library." But it is not easy now to appreciate the obstacles attending such a pursuit in the age of Federigo. The science of bibliography can scarcely be said to have existed before the invention of printing, in consequence of the extreme difficulty of becoming acquainted with works of which there were but few copies, and these widely scattered, perhaps scarcely known. Great outlay was required, either to search out or transcribe manuscripts, and even the laborious habits which then accompanied learning shrank from a task so beset by obstructions. Yet there was a bright exception in Thomas of Sarzana, whose learning supplied the knowledge, and whose elevation to the triple tiara as Nicholas V. procured him the opportunities, necessary for amassing a library. Not only did he found that of the Vatican, but he prepared for Cosimo Pater patriæ a list of authors for the infant collection of S. Marco, at Florence, which, being recognised as a standard catalogue, was adopted by Count Federigo. The longer life allowed to the latter enabled him to outstrip these bibliomaniacs, and all contemporary accumulators, until the fame of his library stood unrivalled. Accordingly Ruscelli, in his Imprese Illustri, avers it to be "notorious that the earliest and most famous collection formed out of the ruins of antiquity was that of Urbino, from whence many excellent authors were edited, and copies supplied." Marsilio Ficino and Leandro Alberti, with others of equal weight, have borne similar testimony, the former from common report, the latter from ocular demonstration; but we shall content ourselves with quoting from two contemporaries, familiar with what they describe. To begin with old Sanzi:—

"No fitting outlay on the work he spared The eye to please; but more intent to feed The mind, he ardently began to build A library, so vast, and so select, As to supply each intellect and taste. With noble aim such books he there amassed, That every genius might its flight direct To kindred objects. Foremost in the band The works of holy churchmen, all adorned And bound with wond'rous beauty; Next what survives of ancient wisdom's thoughts In classic tongue contained; historians all; The sacred choir of charming poesy; In law and medicine many famous names, Symmetrically ranged; there, too, I note A wealth of books in divers languages,— Arab and Greek, with Hebrew reverend; And sundry others whose rich ornaments Deserve detailed description, for I've seen Men of the finest taste in wonder lost Before them."

No poet's licence need be suspected in this description, for it is thus fully borne out by Vespasiano, who was originally an agent in amassing these treasures, and subsequently their custodier.[125] "We have now to mention the high estimation in which he held all Greek and Latin authors, sacred or profane; and to him alone was given the enterprise to carry out what no one, for above a thousand years past, had done, by establishing a library superior to any formed during all that period. In no respect did he look to expense; and whenever he learned the existence of any desirable book in Italy, or abroad, he sent for it without heeding the cost. It is now above fourteen years since he began to make this collection, and he has ever since maintained at Urbino, Florence, and elsewhere, thirty-four transcribers, and has resorted to every means requisite for amassing a famous and excellent library,—which it now is. He has, in the first place, all the Latin poets, with their best commentaries; also the entire works of Cicero, with all the orators and grammarians in that language. In history, he commissioned every known work of that or the Greek tongue, as well as the orators of the latter. In moral and natural philosophy, no author of these languages is wanting. In the faculty of theology he has been most profuse, having, besides the four doctors of the Church, St. Bernard, Tertullian, Hilary, Remigius, Hugh of St. Victor, Isidore, Anselm, Rabanus, Dionysius the Areopagite, St. Basil, Cyril, Gregory Nazarene, John of Damascus, Eusebius, Origen, St. Thomas Aquinas, Albertus Magnus, Alexander de Alexandro, Duns Scotus, Bonaventura, Richard Mediavilla, Archbishop Antonio, with all the modern doctors. There are further all the best civilians, with the lectures of Bartolomeo Capretti. He had the Bible, that best of books, written in two volumes, with the richest and most beautiful illustrations, bound in brocade of gold, and lavishly ornamented with silver; and he made it be thus gorgeously adorned as the chief of all literature, and it has no equal in our time.[126] There are also all the Commentaries on the Bible in Greek and Latin, including Nicolò de Lira. He further has all the treatises on astrology, geometry, arithmetic, architecture, and military tactics, and a very curious volume with every ancient and modern military engine: also all books on painting, sculpture, and music; the standard writers on civil law; the Speculum Innocentiæ; in medicine, the works of Hippocrates, Galen, and Avicenna; the writings of Averröe on logic, ethics, and physics; a volume of early councils; the writings of Boethius on logic, philosophy, and music; and those of modern authors, with Pius II. at their head. There are all the works of Petrarch, Dante,[*127] Boccaccio, Colluccio, Leonardo d'Arezzo, Fra Ambrogio, Gianozzo Manetti, Guarino, Panhormita, Francesco Filelfo, Perotto, Campano, Mafeo Vegeo, Nicolò Secondino, Pontano, Bartolomeo Fazii, Gasparino, Paolo Vergaio, Giovanni Argiropolo, Francesco Barbaro, Leonardo Giustiniani, Donato Acciaiuolo, Alamanno Remicini, Christofero da Prato the elder, Poggio, Giovanni Tartellio, Francesco d'Arezzo, and Lorenzo Valla. It was his object to obtain every book in all branches of learning, ancient and modern, original or translated. He had also of Greek classics, with their commentaries, Aristotle, Plato, Homer, Sophocles, Pindar, Menander, Plutarch, Ptolemy, Herodotus, Pausanias, Thucydides, Polybius, Demosthenes, Æschines, Plotinus, Theophrastus, Hippocrates, Galen, and Xenophon; the New Testament, St. Basil and other fathers in Greek, with the Book of Paradise, lives of the Egyptian saints, lives of Balaam and Jehosaphat; and all works on geometry, arithmetic, and astrology, as well as every other attainable writer in that language. It was the same as to Hebrew books, beginning with the Bible, and including philosophy, medicine, and other faculties, with every known commentary; and there was a remarkable polyglot Psalter in Hebrew, Greek, and Latin.

"On all this the Duke spent upwards of 30,000 ducats; and he made a rule that every book should be bound in crimson, ornamented with silver, from the Bible already described down to the modern authors. It is thus a truly rich display to see all these books so adorned, all being manuscripts on vellum, with illuminations, and each a complete copy,—perfections not found in any other library. Indeed, shortly before he went to the siege of Ferrara, I compared the catalogue with lists of other libraries which he had procured, such as those of the Vatican, Florence, St. Mark, Pavia, down to that of the University of Oxford in England, and found that all but his own had deficiencies and duplicates."

The book of regulations for the court and household of Guidobaldo I. contains these rules for the administration of the library[128]:—"The librarian should be learned, of good presence, temper, and manners; correct and ready of speech. He must get from the gardrobe an inventory of the books, and keep them arranged and easily accessible, whether Latin, Greek, Hebrew, or others, maintaining also the rooms in good condition. He must preserve the books from damp and vermin, as well as from the hands of trifling, ignorant, dirty, and tasteless persons. To those of authority and learning, he ought himself to exhibit them with all facility, courteously explaining their beauty and remarkable characteristics, the handwriting and miniatures, but observant that such abstract no leaves. When ignorant or merely curious persons wish to see them, a glance is sufficient, if it be not some one of considerable influence. When any lock or other requisite is needed, he must take care that it be promptly provided. He must let no book be taken away but by the Duke's orders, and if lent must get a written receipt, and see to its being returned. When a number of visitors come in, he must be specially watchful that none be stolen. All which is duly seen to by the present courteous and attentive librarian, Messer Agabito."

Without attempting any enumeration of those who filled the office thus regulated, we may refer to Vespasiano, already mentioned in that capacity, and to Lorenzo Abstemio of Macerata, an eminent professor of literature about 1500. But the most useful of them was probably Veterano, who was spared to serve three Dukes of the two Urbino dynasties, and the fruits of whose laborious caligraphy may still be recognised in many a fair MS. at the Vatican. Among these is a Commentary on the Triumphs of Petrarch, a note on the colophon of which informs us that it was one of about sixty volumes copied by him on parchment for this collection. A gluttonous patriotism has led some encomiasts of the duchy into the glaring absurdity of imputing the authorship of these manifold works to their transcriber, whose original compositions, to be noticed in our twenty-fifth chapter, suggest few regrets that his long life should have been chiefly devoted to more mechanical occupations. We are fortunately able to test the reputation enjoyed by Count Federigo's library; for, although some of its treasures were lost in the revolutions of 1503 and 1517, and although the MSS. transported to the Vatican in 1658 included many additions subsequent to his death, still the volumes most important to literature, and most embellished by art, may, with few exceptions, be attributed to his liberality. The estimate of 30,000 ducats, already stated from Vespasiano as the cost of the collection in his time, is carried to 40,000 by Gallo Galli, who lived under Duke Guidobaldo II., thus affording a probable inference as to the augmentation it had received between 1482 and 1566. This increase, which went on until the devolution of the duchy in 1631, was chiefly by a mass of unpublished writings of local interest or authorship, without any pretence to artistic beauty. The numbers now catalogued are thus no evidence of its original extent; but we may mention that an inventory by Stefano Gradio, though by no means complete, includes 1361 entries; that Platner, in the Beschreibung der Stadt Rom, estimates the ducal MSS. at 1711; but that the catalogue compiled by Mauro Costa, in 1797, and now actually in use, exceeds four thousand articles. As some of the illuminated MSS. executed for Count Federigo are of the highest interest, we shall notice a few of them in VI. of the Appendices, and in our forty-eighth chapter shall mention the fate of this library, after the extinction of the ducal line.

"Within this curious palace dwelt a soul Gave lustre to each part, and to the whole: This drest his face in courteous smiles, and so From comely gestures sweeter manners flow. This courage joyned to strength; so the hand, bent, Was valour's; opened, bounty's instrument; Which did the scale and sword of justice hold, Knew how to brandish steel and scatter gold." Thomas Carew.

Before concluding our account of the Corte, we may mention some appurtenances intended for the more material requirements of its inmates. Of the garden we can say nothing, horticulture being then a latent science; neither need we linger upon the court-yard provided for tennis or ball. But the stable-range, built by Francesco di Giorgio in 1475, is thus curiously described by himself: "From the stable, constructed by me, for my most illustrious Duke of Urbino, may be seen how much a complete and perfect set ought to include. It is capable of containing three hundred horses, half on either side, being twenty-eight feet wide, thirty-six high, and three hundred and sixty long,[129] and over it there is a beautiful loft for hay and straw, with square holes for throwing down the forage, and above all a roof. There are several contiguous rooms, the first being a yard or shed, wherein to mount and dismount, or to shoe the horses; in it is a fountain with two troughs, and a pipe passing thence under the mangers, with various stop-cocks for the supply of water, by means whereof the stable can be cleansed, and to facilitate this operation the floor falls towards the centre, enabling such horses as wish it to stand higher before. Next the fountain is a corn-store, with the head-groom's rooms above it, overlooking the stable, and beyond these a servant's room, and one for medicines, saddlery, repairs, &c. Lastly, there is a great tower, with a winding-stair, accessible only to the owner, whence he can see the entire establishment; and this, being known to the overseer and servants, is a check upon their good conduct."

In a letter by Gallo Galli to Duke Guidobaldo II. in 1566, he mentions having seen memoranda stating the cost of the Urbino palace at 200,000 ducats, the silver plate at 40,000, a set of tapestries representing the siege of Troy at 10,000, and the MSS. library at 40,000. Before leaving the subject we shall transcribe from the Cortegiano an anecdote, not on account of its value, but as a specimen of the dull wit which Castiglione thought worth commemorating as the gossip of his model court. "Recollect also the silly trait, just related by our Lord Duke, of an abbé who, standing by while Duke Federigo was discussing what to do with the vast quantity of earth excavated from the foundations of this palace, exclaimed, 'My Lord, I have thought of a capital contrivance. Desire an immense ditch to be made, into which it may be put without more ado.' The Duke answered with a smile, 'And where shall we place the earth of the ditch itself?' To which the abbé replied, 'Make it big enough for both.' And though the Duke repeated that the larger it was the more earth would there be to remove, he never could see it, but went on saying, make it so much the greater!"

Sanzi informs us that Federigo had intended to erect, in connection with this residence, a fane unequalled in regularity, beauty, and ornament, in order at once to manifest his piety and to provide a last home for his remains. The cathedral adjoining it, though founded by his father in 1439, was scarcely well begun until 1471, and when completed, in no way realised his project.[130] The church of S. Bernardino, also left unfinished at his death, was in some degree a substitute, being not only a special memorial of his piety, but supplying a mausoleum for himself and the few after members of his dynasty.

Of the other residences that shared the cares of Count Federigo, Gubbio was the most important. Sanzi describes it as facing the south-east, and flanked by mountains on the north, overlooking fertile valleys and smiling champaigns, and excelling the attractions of Urbino in charming prospects and pleasant pathways. Notwithstanding the general truth of this eulogy, nothing could be more consistent with beauty or convenience than its site, planted on a slope, with the cathedral right in front, crowded round with poor buildings, and accessible only by precipitous alleys. Its architecture is disputed between Francesco di Giorgio and Baccio Pontelli,[*131] nor would it add much credit to either, its sole merit being minute decorations in hewn work and inlaid panelling, both after the style we have described at Urbino. Although the initials of the two Montefeltrian dukes appear in these, it is believed to have been chiefly built by Guidobaldo, and the oak-tree cognisance of the Della Rovere indicates in some parts a still later date. The constant recurrence of the Garter among its ornamental devices is gratifying to the very rare English visitors of this Apennine town, but no traveller of taste and intelligence can be otherwise than shocked to find this once chosen sanctuary of Italian refinement and high breeding, the residence in which Castiglione recounted his reception at the Tudor court, and where Fregoso and Bembo were successively bishops, degraded to vile uses and menaced by speedy ruin. It is now in the hands of a person who there manufactures wax candles and silk, but on my second visit in 1843 was closed up entirely and inaccessible. I owe to the obliging attention of Signor Luigi Bonfatti, a local antiquary of taste and intelligence, who is preparing a work on the early painters of Gubbio, this notice of the building and its remaining decorations: "Differing much from the architecture at Urbino, its court-yard is very fine, of the mixed or composite style usual in that age. The windows, doors, and chimneys have stone lintels, exquisitely chiselled in low relief with masterly arabesque designs, those in the interior being touched with gold. The ceilings, now partially decayed, are all of wood, in half-relief compartments, with heavy cornices, and roses coloured and gilded. The palace was completed by Duke Guidobaldo, who commissioned the cabinet or closet of superb intarsia, thirteen by six and a half feet. This tiny room is nineteen feet high, but the inlaid work goes only half-way up. It is of the finest patterns and workmanship, including several emblematic representations of music, literature, physical science, geography, and war. On the cornice is an inscription now in part illegible.... It was, in my opinion, the work of Antonio Mastei of Gubbio, a famous artist in wood, who executed the beautiful choir of S. Fortunato at Todi, and who is known to have been much in favour with Dukes Guidobaldo and Francesco Maria I., the latter of whom gave him an exemption from imposts."[132]

Muzio and Baldi impute to Federigo's munificence many other palaces in his state, such as Fossombrone, Cagli, Casteldurante, La Carda, Mercatello, &c.; but most of these were probably forts, of which Francesco di Giorgio speaks as having one hundred and thirty-six under his charge at once, for this prince. At the two first-named places, there still remain residences dating from this reign, and the parks or game-preserves which formerly surrounded them, embracing circuits of seven and five miles respectively, were walled in by the Count, and stocked with fallow-deer.[133] These have long ago run to waste, and the palaces, with their ample halls,

"Shadowy with remembrances Of the majestic past,"

are now desolate and rapidly falling to ruin.[*134]

---

It has been aptly observed that "of works which appeal to the eye, any description must be tedious and inconclusive," but less could not have been said of creations which constituted the chief praise of Count Federigo among his contemporaries, and his most enduring glory with posterity. Nor can it but excite our interest to inquire whence means were obtained for so lavish an outlay, and for his munificent patronage of letters and arts. When the eye wanders over the map of Urbino, as possessed by its dukes of the Della Rovere dynasty, it is difficult to restrict our conceptions to its true limits at this date. It would probably now be impossible to define these with perfect accuracy, much of its frontier being then debatable land.[135] Into this category had fallen part of the original fief of Montefeltro, lying north of the Foglia. The proper territory of Urbino occupied the central portion of the far-receding stripe situated between that river and the Metauro, its upper section being the Brancaleone country, its sea-board divided between Pesaro and Fano. Out-lying were the holdings of Gubbio and Cagli, the latter perhaps reaching to the recently acquired townships of Fossombrone. The state composed of these straggling parts may have included about one-fourth of the subsequent duchy; but cut off from the coast, and from the fertile districts which skirt the Adriatic, its rugged uplands and rude climate derived from nature few elements of wealth. The various wars which had swept it, and especially the forays and reprisals it had long endured from the tyrant of Rimini, might well have exhausted its resources, and utterly impoverished both sovereign and people. The fact was, however, quite otherwise, war being a source of wealth to both. Military service was their only trade, and so well did they ply it, that during thirty-four years, short intervals excepted, the Count drew continuous pay from some foreign power or adventurer. The value of these engagements may be estimated from some examples. In 1453 his war pay from Alfonso of Naples exceeded 8000 ducats a month, and for many years he had from him and his son an annual peace-pension of 6000 in name of past services. At the close of his life, when captain-general of the Italian league, he drew in war 165,000 ducats of annual stipend, 45,000 being his own share; in peace 65,000 in all. Of these vast sums a considerable portion went among his hardy mountaineers, besides their contingent of plunder and perquisites picked up in the field. Thus was war rendered so acceptable to their interests, as well as to their tastes and habits, that Sanzi compares them, when their arms are cast aside, to "unpinioned eagles." Nor did the ravages of invasion prove so destructive as might be supposed. The entire population were located in villages or townlets, each a fastness capable of resistance, which, even when unsuccessful, gave time to conceal their valuables: thus when the sack began, they had only to save their persons, and these generally were allowed to go unharmed.[136]

---

IT was to the Pontiff's anxiety for his favourite project against the Infidel, that the Malatesta owed the shadow of sovereignty still left them. He inherited from Nicholas V. the design of a holy war; but though the ten years passed since the peace of Lodi had united the Italian powers for that purpose, the cross had not yet been raised against the aggressive and triumphant crescent. He now sought to redeem delays by redoubled zeal, and his temporal diplomacy seconded his spiritual exhortations in collecting troops and treasure from Western Europe, to be mustered at Ancona and led by his Holiness in person. But, as was shrewdly remarked by Cosimo de' Medici, it was an old man undertaking an enterprise which needed a young one. He travelled to Ancona when scarcely recovered from a severe fit of gout, and on arriving, had the mortification to discover that his ardour had been ill seconded by most of the Christian powers; that the soldiery, already disgusted with a service whose rewards were indulgences for the next world instead of present pay and pillage, were retiring in great numbers; and that the volunteers who crowded the port, far beyond the means provided for feeding or transporting them, were a mere mob of unarmed and undisciplined idlers. Chagrin, anxiety, and fatigue occasioned a relapse, which carried him off on the 14th of August.[137] The consistory countermanded the ill-advised expedition, and the conclave hurriedly chose as his successor the Venetian Barbo, whose character and habits, in all respects a contrast to those of Pius, would have been best expressed by Barbaro, but whose absurd personal vanity is said to have prompted him to propose assuming as his title Formoso I.

The papal throne has seldom been better filled than by Pius II. Gifted with much practical capacity and intelligence, he brought to it the experience of a life devoted to diplomacy, statesmanship, and literature, and he found time to record in historical commentaries, for the benefit of posterity, his impressions of the many important incidents wherein he had been an actor or a witness. It is very remarkable that the last measure of his pontificate, from which he anticipated its chief lustre, should have been not only opposed to the spirit of his age, but undertaken without consideration, pursued without judgment, and terminated in utter failure. To these inherent errors ought to be ascribed the frustration of hopes in themselves vain, rather than to the death of his Holiness, as thus set forth by Sanzi:—

"Ah cruel destiny! unjust and harsh To Italy's high name, even as her gates Were opened wide for glory. Doubtful, sure, And manifold the chances that impede Such plans as man conceives: the Pontiff died; And so these gladsome hopes were blotted out, Whilst all their pomp, and pains, and stores profuse Were turned to sullen, sluggish discontent."

The late Pope, intending to leave Federigo as lieutenant-general, charged with the defence of the papal state during his absence in the east, had summoned him to Ancona, and there consulted him both on that subject and on the projected expedition. Thence the Count proceeded to Gubbio for the marriage of his relation Guidantonio Ubaldini, and on the 28th of September repaired to Rome, with a noble suite, to offer congratulations to the new Pontiff, by whom he was confirmed in his command, with the title of Gonfaloniere of the Church. After visiting the King of Naples, he returned home in the end of October, and in the following autumn had from his Majesty a renewed condotta as captain-general.[138]

The crusade and all its preparations had passed away as completely and almost as rapidly as a stage-scene, and the quiet of Italy remaining undisturbed, the new Pontiff availed himself of it to chastise the Aversi of Anguillera, a band of robber barons whose predatory incursions extended to the gates of his capital. Although in more peaceful times this would have been a matter of police rather than a military movement, it fell to Federigo as gonfaloniere to repress their audacity. This he did in a few days during July, their strongholds about Ronciglione all surrendering without a blow. Paul, encouraged by this success, followed it up by similar proceedings against the Savelli, another great Campagna family, whose Angevine policy had led them into open rebellion five years before, and whose influence never recovered the loss of territory now wrested from them. The Count, having gone to visit his Holiness, received from him verbal instructions and a written commission to take effectual measures for securing the devolution to the Holy See of the Malatesta fiefs, as soon as these brothers should die, and there being some suspicion of intrigues on their part to defeat that arrangement under which Cesena and Rimini had been left them only for their respective lives, a solemn obligation to secrecy under pain of excommunication shrouded these deliberations. Thus were pursued those repressive steps adopted by Pius II., and which were matured into a fixed policy of successive pontiffs during the next seventy years, until, of all the sovereign vassals who divided and distracted the ecclesiastical territory, from Terraccini to the Po, there remained but those of Ferrara, Urbino, and Piombino. Malatesta Novello of Cesena, whose wife Violante had been sister of Federigo, died in November, when Cesena was at once seized by his nephew Roberto, eldest son of Sigismondo. The Count of Urbino, in obedience to the papal injunctions, marched into Romagna and blockaded that town, until matters were compromised by a concession of Meldola to Roberto, on his surrendering the rest of his uncle's fief, and entering the papal service, as a guarantee for his future obedience.

Francesco Sforza died suddenly at Milan on the 8th of March. He was the most sagacious as well as the most fortunate of Italian adventurers, and as a sovereign conciliated general confidence and regard by his judicial administration, whilst a liberal and discriminating encouragement of learning gave to his court and capital attractions and brilliancy too quickly lost under his dissolute successor. The first to apply to his country the axiom that union is strength, it was his cherished aim to cultivate the hitherto neglected principle of nationality as the mainspring of her policy. The league of Italy, carried through by him, was the primary step towards that good end, which was effectually frustrated before the close of this century by the intemperate and selfish ambition of of his son Ludovico, and which continues to puzzle the theorists, to mislead the patriots, and to baffle the politicians of that fair land. His eldest son Galeazzo Maria being absent in France at his death, the Duchess sent to request the Count of Urbino's attendance as a tried friend and comrade of her lord, and as husband of his niece. Federigo, anticipating the messenger, had already set out on the first news of so important an event, and by his prudent counsel and conciliating manners greatly forwarded the harmonious recognition of the new Duke. During three months he devoted his entire attention to this object, and before taking his departure, his past efforts were acknowledged, and his future services retained, by a renewal of his engagement as captain-general on the following terms:—

"With the approval and benediction of the supreme Pontiff, his Most Serene Majesty Ferdinand, the noble republic of Florence, and Ourselves have reunited ourselves in a public confederation, and have renewed our former league for common protection of our states and repelling of external aggression, selecting as our chief in command that illustrious captain and magnanimous lord, the Count of Urbino, than whom none can be desired more skilful and prompt in the conduct of war or peace, seeing with what gallantry, authority, and success he has managed both, and has exhibited such proofs of unequalled faith, constancy, and integrity, that throughout Italy these are not less in repute than are his famous feats of generalship."[139] On the 6th of June, the courts and nobles assembled in the cathedral to witness his installation, with all the pomp and circumstance of a military religious ceremonial. After the baton and banner had been placed in his hand, the goodly cortège conducted him to his lodgings, where a gallant charger, a beautiful head-piece, and a stately mantle awaited his acceptance. Two days thereafter he set out on his homeward journey, which was a continued progress of honour, the sovereigns and people of each state through which he passed emulating the compliments they should render to so distinguished a guest.

The treaty of Lodi, to which Sforza had been mainly instrumental, remained in force at his death; indeed, historians dwell with peculiar pleasure on the twenty-eight years of tranquillity which succeeded that settlement. Compared with the turmoil of preceding wars, or with the clang of battles, which, from 1492 till 1529 rang continually through the Peninsula, these were, indeed, years of repose and prosperity, and may be considered the halcyon age of modern Italy. It is true that those republican institutions had been widely infringed under which her communities rose to eminence, and that arbitrary sovereigns had with more or less success established over most of them a personal or hereditary sway. True also, that her newly awakened spirit of philosophy had then assumed, under the influence of the ancient classics, a somewhat unprofitable direction; that "the all-immortal three" of the preceding century already had raised her literature to perhaps its culminating point; and that it was not until the following age that her arts attained their highest perfection. But whilst individual freedom had been curtailed, individual security had been generally enlarged; even the despotism of one was welcomed, when it brought relief from the storms of faction and the tyranny of mobs. The reviving energies of mind felt the invigoration which succeeds to long repose, but still glowed with a healthy character, free from that infusion of meaner motives and more degrading tendencies which too quickly and permanently poisoned the fairest creations of the pen, the pencil, and the chisel. Above all, Italy in the fifteenth century was as yet independent. Her bright plains had not become battle-fields for European ambition; her treasures had not been plundered, her civilisation trampled upon, her nationality defaced by foreign and barbarous invaders.

Yet the pæans of peace inspired by the interval of comparative quiet upon which we are now entering must be read with poetical allowance, for we shall have to trace during that period not unfrequent intrigues, and to mention many, ebullitions of

"The mind of Italy to strife inflamed."

Wherever war was intended, the Count of Urbino's services were naturally in request, for his name stood foremost on the roll of condottieri since the death of Giacopo Piccinino in July, 1465. It is unnecessary to contrast the qualities of these rival generals: the latter is known to history but as a military adventurer, whilst the reputation of Federigo rests not less on his conduct as a wise and generous prince. The Neapolitan war had at length given to Giacopo the great object of his life. He was sovereign of Sulmona, and his marriage with the Duke of Milan's natural daughter had strengthened him in his new rank, and finally closed the long strifes of the Braccian and Sforzan factions. But fortune, after this signal exaltation, destined for him a fearful reverse. The false-hearted Ferdinand forgot not that he had been the right arm of the Angevine party. Receiving him with hollow courtesy, he amused him at Naples until Ippolita Maria Sforza, the affianced bride of his eldest son Alfonso Duke of Calabria, left her father's duchy of Milan. When she had reached Siena, on her way to be married, Piccinino was treacherously seized and mysteriously done to death. The impression was long current that his father-in-law had countenanced this disgraceful murder, but Rosmini, in his recent history of Milan, has fully vindicated the memory of Francesco Sforza from a calumny utterly repugnant to his noble character.[140]

The death of Francesco Sforza had been preceded in 1464 by that of Cosimo de' Medici, whose virtual authority at Florence, earned by his personal qualities, was exercised tacitly, and cemented by no title, until FATHER OF HIS COUNTRY was inscribed by the grateful citizens upon his tomb. These two great men had been allied by common objects of policy as well as by the sympathy of lofty minds, neither of which descended to their sons. Pietro de' Medici quickly found that his father's influence passed not with his name and wealth, whilst his own pretensions only roused the factious spirit for which Florence enjoyed an unenviable reputation. It would lead us too far from the immediate object of these pages were we to analyse the state of parties there during this crisis, and examine the conduct of leaders, who, under the mask of patriotism, sought by treachery and assassination to gratify private ambition, envy, jealousy, and revenge. Even those reformers who, with purer motives and an unwavering faith in democratic utopianism, sought to establish public liberty apart from individual ends, had no better panacea to offer than that of submitting official appointments to ballot; a singular consequence of the intelligence and, if we accept the opinions of Sismondi, of the freedom for which Florence was already preeminent. Two years of caballing concluded with results common in the republics of classic Greece and mediæval Italy; the ostracised minority saved themselves by flight, and, in order to avenge personal wrongs, brought upon their native land the disasters of foreign invasion, as well as the calamity of native broils.[141] The Medicean faction remained in the ascendant, and were intimately allied with Naples and Milan; but the exiles rallied under the winged lion of St. Mark, and endeavoured by prayers and promises to interest the Venetians in their behalf, reminding them of the support perseveringly afforded to their enemy Francesco Sforza by the Medici. These representations were cordially received by the most jealous of republics; yet with habitually crooked policy, the Signory, instead of frankly seconding the Tuscan refugees, nominally discharged Bartolomeo Colleoni from its service, but secretly aided them to engage him in an expedition against their country.[142] Colleoni, the last of the old race of stipendiary commanders, had risen to wealth and reputation, and had grown grey in years, without ever gaining an important battle. Mustering once more his veteran followers, and reinforced by several captains of adventure from Romagna and Upper Italy, he marched at the head of 8000 horse and 6000 foot through the Ferrarese, intending to enter Tuscany by the Lamone valley.

These preparations were viewed at Florence with extreme anxiety. Pietro, wavering in character and broken in health, seemed unequal to the crisis; his son Lorenzo, though full of promise, was but eighteen; the exiles had friends ready to second them at home. The foreign influence of his house was still however great, and the Dukes of Milan and Calabria led in person their contingents into the field. The confederate army was commanded by the Count of Urbino, to whose merits the following flattering attestation by Ferdinand of Naples is preserved in the pages of Muzio:—"Amid these warlike movements, and perils for Italy, it is most satisfactory that we have found a captain-general whose military skill can rival that of the ancient times. For, with all deference, who in this age has more fairly taken arms? who has led armies under happier auspices? whose conduct in pitched battles or in sieges has been more exemplary? Such questions are answered by the many honourable trophies he has wrested from the enemy; by all the cities he has taken, the fortresses he has stormed, the armies he has routed; by the victories and the booty he has carried off. Besides, it is notorious that he is not less eminent at home than abroad, not less excellent in council than in arms. And, what is still more remarkable, all this superiority is the fruit of his genius, not less than his prowess, and especially of his good faith, which, although the basis of every virtue, is the rarest of them all, and which, almost banished from earth, has taken refuge in heaven."

The sincerity thus lauded had been recently tested. Vespasiano informs us that the emissaries of Venice having offered Federigo an engagement, with 80,000 ducats in war and 60,000 in peace, he simply reported it to the allies; whereupon they lost no time in arranging with him a formal condotta, which probably embodied the compliment we have cited, and which obliged him to serve against all enemies of the league, the Pontiff not excepted.[143] The Venetian agents had succeeded better with Astorre Manfredi, Lord of Faenza, in consequence of whose defection the Count of Urbino early in April marched his own company into Romagna, in order to persuade or overawe the minor feudatories of that warlike country into adherence to the confederates. During three months the two armies were in presence, the tactics of both being, as was then usual, rather a display of strategy than a struggle for victory, and the blockade of Faenza by Federigo proving the only incident worth notice. But this inactivity, though pleasant and profitable to the stipendiaries, occasioned much grumbling from those who had to find the sinews of war, especially from the exiles, whose means were quickly expended. It is alleged, in justification of the Count's temporising, that the rashness of Galeazzo Sforza had several times almost compromised the confederates; that, in order to rid them of his counsels, he was induced to visit the Medici, on pretexts which are variously stated; and that the opportunity of his absence was seized by Federigo to fight a pitched battle on his own terms. Baldi, however, informs us that Colleoni, having virtually abandoned his designs against Florence, contemplated an attack upon the Milanese, and that the confederates came into collision with him whilst intercepting his movement in that direction, of which they were fully aware.

Although we have descriptions of many of these mediæval combats from spectators or actors, their details seldom convey an intelligible idea of the actual conflicts. Thus, whilst Muzio and Baldi prolixly recount the inconclusive movements which preceded the engagement, and introduce tedious harangues as spoken by Federigo to his army, they throw but little light upon the field manœuvres. The battle was commenced early in the afternoon of the 25th of July, by the light cavalry of Urbino charging the enemy when about to halt for the night; and although the Count had intended to delay the attack until they were in the bustle of encamping, he gallantly supported his skirmishers in two divisions, one led by himself, the other by Roberto di Sanseverino, general-in-chief of the Milanese forces, whilst a reserve of cavalry under Donato del Conte was instructed to hover about, and render aid where required. In the heat of the engagement, Federigo, with more knight-errantry than prudence, called upon his brilliant staff, composed of his kinsman the Cavaliere Pietro Ubaldini, his future son-in-law Giovanni della Rovere, and other youths of promise, to follow him to the rescue, and, lance in rest, bore headlong into the mêlée. But this ill-timed gallantry had nearly cost him his life, for a foot soldier, getting under his horse, inflicted a mortal wound on the animal, and he was not saved without immense efforts of his own and those around him. The day was intensely hot, the armies had both marched some miles before they met, and after fighting for six or eight hours (some say sixteen) without apparent advantage to either side, Colleoni sent a trumpet to Federigo, suggesting that, as it was now high time to seek repose, they had better be done for the day. The staff warmly seconded this proposal, being three miles from their intended quarters; so by common consent the troops were recalled, and whilst the soldiery lit torches and fires, as substitutes for the now deepened twilight, the leaders mutually advanced to shake hands and congratulate each other on their escapes. This singular conclusion of what is generally represented as a well-fought field was quite in accordance with the received rules of military procedure; but it tempted Machiavelli, the enemy of stipendiary armies, to sneer at this affair of La Molinella as a pitched battle, lasting half a day, wherein neither side wavered, and no one fell, a few prisoners and wounded horses being the only result of the fray. This is certainly an exaggeration, but though all characterise the conflict as sanguinary, our authorities differ widely as to the loss, which probably did not exceed a few hundred men killed, including, however, several captains of note.[144]

The peculiar feature of the day was the employment of flying artillery, gunnery having, till now, been limited to clumsy battering-pieces, adapted only for sieges and fortifications. The new weapons called spingards and invented by Colleoni were long swivels, measuring three cubits,[145] mounted upon carriages, and discharging balls somewhat larger than a walnut or plum. Although the advantage has been claimed for the confederates, the battle was a drawn one; indeed, Colleoni remained upon the field, whilst Federigo led his exhausted troops to the encampment he had previously resolved on. Yet the results became equivalent to a victory as regarded the Medici, for their outlawed opponents, no longer possessing money or credit, were overlooked in the arrangements for peace which followed early next year. Galeazzo Sforza having withdrawn most of his troops for protection of his frontier on the side of Savoy, the autumn was passed by the armies beating over their former ground about Faenza and Imola, Federigo vainly anxious, as we are assured, to bring on another engagement. Finally, sickness and winter terminated a campaign quite unworthy of the space that has been allowed it by most annalists.

In one respect, however, it was not unimportant to the Count of Urbino, for it gave him opportunities of improving an acquaintance with the youthful Duke of Milan, and of cementing his tried friendship for the house of Sforza. So long as Colleoni kept the field, he was watched by the Count, who rightly guessed that, under pretext of the descent upon Florence, he was ready enough to carry the banner of St. Mark into the Milanese, should a favourable opportunity offer. Even after peace was concluded, Federigo remained in Lombardy, and was employed by Galeazzo Maria on the honourable mission of receiving at Genoa his bride, Bona of Savoy, on her arrival from the French court, over which her sister presided. Having conducted her to Milan, the marriage was celebrated in July, 1468, after which he at length contrived to repair home. From thence, however, he was speedily summoned to return, and, as the Duke's captain-general, to take the field against the Savoyards, and afterwards to reduce Brisella on the Po, whose inhabitants had attempted to stir up new strife among the rival powers of Italy. The autumn was well advanced ere these matters were arranged. Galeazzo presented him with a palace at Milan, and relying upon his judgment and experience, detained him there during the winter to assist in organising his state. The arrival of Frederick III. at Venice early in the year appeared to impose on the Duke, as his principal feudatory, the duty of a special mission, and Federigo was selected for that distinction. His object was, however, misrepresented to the Emperor, who consequently altered his route and proceeded to Rome for his coronation. On the 1st of March, 1469, the Count returned to Urbino. Ricotti mentions, as a startling proof of the low estate to which the imperial authority had now been reduced in Italy, that the King of the Romans on this occasion asked of Colleoni a safe conduct for himself and suite, on their way to the nominal capital of his empire!

During his absence, the detested Lord of Rimini closed his wayward career. No Italian prince of this century fills so picturesque a niche in mediæval history; none has more fully realised its worse vices, or so narrowly escaped its noblest qualities. Bred as a soldier of fortune, and numbering among his subjects the most martial population of the Peninsula, his bravery when tested became mere bravado, his duplicity rendered him a dangerous adherent to any cause. Unbounded ambition was in him so marked by selfishness, ready talent so clogged by overweening conceit, that all his efforts and aspirations resulted in failure, and with the means and opportunities of establishing an important sovereignty, he left behind him but a shadow of departed power. His domestic morals were scandalous in an age of notorious laxity. Not only were his three wives sacrificed to jealousy or vengeance, but their murders are boastfully alluded to on his monument in the miserable jest, that although the horns he wore were visible enough, he had found means to curtail them.[146]

His progeny were all illegitimate, and several of them came to violent ends. The sole redeeming trait of human kindness that seems to have softened his harsh and treacherous nature was his affection for Isotta, whom he raised from obscurity to participate in his affections, or as some say his rank. However that may have been, she shares such celebrity as has been conferred on him by the creations of art and literature which he sedulously patronised, and in which chiefly his name survives, although their humanising influences left no impress on his haughty and cruel nature. Mariotti remarks, that "an Italian prince in those days durst not be a barbarian. A murderer, perhaps, stained with the most flagitious crimes, he might be; but he must seek his absolution in works of munificence, he must atone for his outrages against public morality by his devotion to the cause of learning and homage to the public taste." So was it with Sigismondo.[*147] Valturio tells us that he read a great deal, and often took part in discussions and disputations upon philosophy, letters, and arts, with a patience of contradiction which honourably contrasted with his usual outbreaks of temper. At his court were entertained Porcellio, Basinio, Trebanio, and other Latinist poetasters, who repaid such hospitality by a meed of fulsome and long-forgotten doggerel, and celebrated the beauty and accomplishments of his mistress. Italy could boast of no architect superior to Leon Alberti, no military engineer more skilful than Valturio: he employed the former on the church of S. Francesco at Rimini, which marks an era in the revival of art; the latter, under his auspices, wrote on the science of war, and exemplified its practice in constructing the castle of that town: both of these buildings enshrine the name and munificence of Sigismondo Pandolfo. But the most pleasing memorials of a prince by name and by nature chief of the wrong-heads (if we may be pardoned a pun upon Malatesta) are the medallions in bronze struck for him by Pisani, Di Pastis, and other celebrated medalists, one of which we here introduce. Zanetti's publication on the mint of Rimini gives twelve of these without exhausting their number; they preserve his manly bust and Isotta's matronly features, whilst the sculptures of S. Francesco familiarise us with the elephant and negro-heads borne as their respective cognisances.

It is remarkable how entirely his virtues and vices, his talents and tastes, were formed upon the standards of paganism, and one circumstance alone was wanting to place him on a level with the heroes of classic times,—that he had been born a heathen. Thus, his selfish daring, his reckless waste of human life and welfare, needed but the name of Mars to sanctify them; his unscrupulous and insatiable lust had been welcome incense at the shrine of Venus; the murder of his wives and the deification of his paramour found orthodox precedents in many demigods. So too was it with his encouragement of letters and art. The verses of his laureates were modelled after the most approved classical adulation. His architects were employed in the art of war, his sculptors upon heroic medals and devices commemorative of himself and his favourite mistress; the church which he built as a monument of his magnificence is covered with ornaments, emblems, and tombs so profane in character, that but for its dedication to St. Francis, it might scarcely have been taken for a Christian shrine.

The latter scenes of his life have a touch of romantic interest altogether wanting to its more prosperous days. When deprived of substantial sovereignty, he left the scene of his humiliation, and turning against the Crescent those arms which had often been arrayed against the Keys, as a captain of adventure he led the Venetian troops to encounter the Infidel in the Morea. There he distinguished himself in 1464-5, and then returned to Italy, bringing, it is said, the dry bones of Themistios, a Byzantine philosopher, to a court no longer open for living celebrities of literature. His haughty spirit spurned all overtures from the Pontiff, who sought to anticipate the devolution of Rimini to the Holy See by bribing him into a quiet surrender of it during his life; but abject in misfortune as he had been arrogant in prosperity, and disgusted at the contrast of his fallen fortunes, he pined and died before completing his fifty-second year.[148]

The death of Sigismondo without legitimate male issue inferred the lapse of his fief to the Church, and this devolution was expressly stipulated by his convention with Pius II. in 1463. But Isotta, finding herself in possession of Rimini, and personally popular with the citizens, asserted an alleged bequest of its late lord in favour of his son Sallustio, and stood on the defensive. Nor was this unequal resistance hopeless. The neighbouring feudatories were necessarily opposed to ecclesiastical rights that greatly infringed the value of their own tenure. Venice regarded with jealousy any extension of papal influence in Romagna, and was ever ready, for her own ends, to support the petty princes there. Relying, therefore, on external support, Isotta closed the gates when summoned in name of the Pontiff, and the people, proud of their independence and abhorring provincial insignificance, seconded her resistance. Roberto, the eldest of Sigismondo's bastards, was in the papal service on the confines of Naples, and on him Paul fixed as the instrument for attaining his object without a contest. Summoning him to his presence, he assumed an air of patronising interest, and by large promises induced him to repair to Rimini, and so contrive that the ecclesiastical troops should be quietly admitted. Heir of his father's duplicity though not of his rights, Malatesta lent himself to this intrigue with a secret view to his personal ends, and after binding himself by hand and seal to the Pope's stipulations, he early in January entered the city in disguise. No guest could have been less welcome to Isotta, but at a juncture so delicate she was content to dissemble, and accept his amicable professions.

Federigo's condotta in the papal service had just expired, leaving him free to consult the dictates of policy, his views as to which were stated in an appeal to Pietro de' Medici on behalf of Rimini, in words which may almost be deemed prophetic. "I am constrained to believe that the Pontiff and the Venetian Signory intend to occupy Rimini and all Romagna, and eventually Bologna too. Rimini once lost, the rest will readily follow, and your lordship and the league may easily suppose where Bologna and Imola would then be. Those who will not resist such projects at first may have afterwards to pay a hundredfold, and God grant that it be then to good purpose." He proceeded in person to Milan in order to urge these considerations upon Galeazzo Maria, to whom they came with greater cogency as he had purchased Imola from the Manfredi. Whilst there he favourably received overtures from Roberto, and arranged a new confederation of Milan, Florence, and Naples for the independence of Rimini, of which he was general-in-chief, with a command for Malatesta. The latter, now throwing off all disguise, wrote to the Pope his best excuses for resiling from his engagement, and, after persuading Isotta to retire out of harm's way, proclaimed himself seigneur of Rimini.[*149]

The contest which ensued was one of the many paltry "squabbles for towns and castles" which ever recur in restless Italy, to distract the historian without affording him materials for a stirring episode. The league were bound to bring up a considerable force of cavalry in their respective proportions, but their hearts were not in a cause where they had to support the weaker side, and ere they took the field, Alessandro Sforza, at the head of the ecclesiastical troops, had carried the suburbs of Rimini and reduced the city to great straits.[150] Federigo, after repeated efforts, persuaded the Neapolitan contingent to risk a march through the enemy's country, whereupon Sforza fell back from the leaguer to provide for his own defence. This movement was, however, but of partial benefit to Malatesta, for, as the allies were bound only to defensive operations, they withheld their assistance beyond maintaining him in the limited state of which his father died possessed. Such trifling, and the do-little tactics by which it was supported, scarcely consisted with the exigence, for though the cause was at first unimportant, the disgust and indignation felt by Paul at being outwitted by an almost beardless boy led him to entertain vast schemes of vengeance, extending to the partition of Romagna with his countrymen of Venice, and to a new war for the Neapolitan succession.

The movement of Sforza to Vergiliano, a few miles west of Rimini, had virtually raised the siege, and the confederates lay round Cerasolo, about the same distance to the south. Matters were now at a dead-lock, for the actual territory in dispute being thus cleared of papal troops, the allies had no pretext for aggressive operations, although Roberto was obviously exposed to destruction should they withdraw, which they showed every disposition to do. In order to bring matters to a point, Federigo informed Malatesta that it was for him to attack; and as his tiny garrison could effect nothing beyond a predatory incursion on the papal territory, it was concerted that he should assail Mulazzano, whilst the Count sent some troops to protect Rimini. The scheme succeeded to their hearts' content, for Sforza, moved by complaints from the menaced villages, quitted his position in order to check the marauders and occupy new ground within reach of Mulazzano. Federigo, informed of this intention, foresaw that he would encamp, at all events pass, near his cantonments, and prepared to give him battle. It was not without opposition that he obtained the approval of his languid supporters, but having done so, he thus harangued his troops:[151] "Soldiers! I have good news for you. The enemy have a fancy to water their horses in that stream where we water ours, and for this purpose have resolved to encamp right opposite us. If you would know why I take this for so good news, I shall tell you. I know that you all ply the trade of arms in order to gain you honour and advantage; and if the enemy come, as I have said, I shall lead you where each of you will have equal opportunity of displaying his gallantry. Take no thought that they outnumber you, for victory is gained by valour and not by multitudes, and the more they are, the greater your glory and plunder. I already know well your bravery, and you should have no doubts when I promise you so sure a victory, since that I see how it is to be won. This much I can say, that I even now feel as ample satisfaction in the triumph which I anticipate from your valour as if it were already gained; yet for your satisfaction I have something to add. They are coming to make a lodgment without an idea of opposition, and therefore fool-hardily and incautiously; we shall thus probably find them in disorder, whilst we are fully prepared for action. At all events we shall come upon them encumbered by baggage and disheartened, which affects both mind and body; and being ourselves in light order and prepared for battle, the advantage must be all with us. Should they fancy returning whence they came, we shall let them see what it is to show their backs to an enemy. One way or other the victory will be ours, and besides having my word you may assure yourselves of it, for it is in your own hands."

The battle took place on the 29th or 30th of August, on ground selected by Federigo. During three hours the enemy vainly sought to make an impression on his position, at the end of which time Roberto came up with some fresh battalions, and the papal forces began to retire. Whereupon the Count, rushing forward, exclaimed to his men, "I promised you that, should the enemy give signs of retreat, you would make them feel what it is to show heels, and I must keep my word. At them now! and having maintained your ground against their attack, does not this encourage you to set upon them when flying? Come merrily on with me, who promise you a glorious and dashing victory!" Their flight soon became a rout; the confederates, pursuing in good order, carried the ecclesiastical camp by a coup-de-main, and were rewarded by immense booty. The enemy, who considerably outnumbered them, were scattered to the winds, the leaders seeking shelter in various towns of Romagna. Though the dead did not exceed a few hundreds, a vast number of horses, standards, artillery, and prisoners were taken, including many captains of note. Muzio thinks it necessary to defend Federigo for this victory, as scarcely within the stipulated object of the league, that of resisting aggressions upon Roberto's proper territory of Rimini; and it was perhaps from a consciousness of this objection that he adopted the very unusual course of dismissing all prisoners without ransom, after an oration on the chances of war, and his personal regret at being called upon to draw the sword against his ecclesiastical over-lord. Such a course was, however, consistent with his general feelings and practice; and there now occurred an opportunity for the special manifestation of his generosity. Count Gian Francesco of Pian di Meleto, who, though a subject of Montefeltro, had been ever a partisan of Sigismondo Pandolfo, and a personal foe of Federigo, was on this occasion in the pay of Alessandro Sforza, and, being captured on the fall of his horse, was with difficulty rescued by Federigo himself from the summary punishment intended by his exasperated adherents. When the battle was over, he and his son were summoned by the victorious general, and while awaiting the sentence befitting their treason, were thus addressed by their over-lord: "Count, this will be evil news for your wife, and it would be right to console her by tidings of your welfare and her son's. It is therefore my pleasure that you both be the bearers of them to her." He then dismissed them home with an escort.

Federigo's commission being now effectually fulfilled, and having no warrant for pursuing the war into the papal territory, he retired to Urbino, leaving Roberto in the field to follow up the recent victory. Although blamed for wavering during the early part of the battle, in order to fall back upon Rimini had its fortune been adverse, the latter was not slow to profit by its results, and ere November he had re-established the Malatestan sovereignty over the whole fiefs of Rimini and Fano, as well as part of the vicariat of Sinigaglia.

The first fruit of Federigo's triumph was a very flattering commission from the Duke of Milan as lieutenant-general of his state, accompanied with 10,000 golden ducats in payment of his claims upon Francesco Sforza. But ere long there broke out those jealousies which chronically afflicted all Italian confederacies. The contingents of Milan and Florence, arriving too late for the battle, shared neither its glory nor its spoils, which thus fell in a great measure to the Neapolitans, whose sovereign was already regarded with no friendly eye by the haughty Lombard Prince. The liberality of the latter to the Count of Urbino was but a covert bribe to alienate him from the league, and secure his undivided services, but it was unavailing against the prior and long-established claims of the house of Aragon. Thus thwarted, Galeazzo Maria withheld from Federigo his quota of the pay promised by the allies, namely 70,000 scudi in war, and half as much in peace, and refused to contribute with them to the expense of maintaining Roberto in Rimini. This ebullition of temper, dictated by no animosity against Federigo, occasioned a diet of the powers at Florence, which, however, failed to arrange their differences. Pietro de' Medici being dead, his influence had descended to his more talented son, who, finding that the wily Venetians were courting a separate treaty with Ferdinand, hastened to urge upon his allies the importance of sinking minor differences, and maintaining the league as the best guarantee for the repose of Italy. These representations had due weight. The confederacy was renewed, and a peace concluded in December with the Pope, provided to Roberto all the territory of which his father died possessed. The following letters of Federigo to the Signory of Siena testify his interest in these arrangements, the bearings of which on the policy of Italy and Europe have been ably stated by Sismondi in his eighty-first chapter.

The duplicity of Italian diplomacy has passed into a proverb, and by none was it more constantly practised than by the successors of St. Peter. The investiture of Roberto, although a specific stipulation of the new league, was constantly evaded by Paul, until, after months of procrastination, death released his Holiness from the engagement. His successor, Sixtus IV., was a friend of Federigo and of the Neapolitan Monarch, and through their mediation Malatesta obtained prompt performance of the obligation. Thus established in a seigneury, long the heritage of bastards, Roberto allied himself more intimately with the Count of Urbino, by espousing, on the 28th of March, 1472, his daughter Elisabetta (or Isabella, for the names were synonymous), then about nine years old; and thus were happily closed the long feuds of these rival races.[153]

In writing to the Signory of Siena regarding the election of Sixtus, Federigo says "there could not have been a choice more worthy, better, or more consonant with the requirements of the Christian religion." We shall ere long have ample means of testing the accuracy of this opinion. Under its influence he attended the coronation, the splendour whereof is described by a spectator in these somewhat inflated terms: "The only news I have to tell you is about the triumphant and unexampled honours paid by all Italy to the new Pontiff, a detailed account of which would be more proper for history than suited to a letter. Your renowned Federigo surpassed all others in magnificence and pomp, the number of his mettlesome chargers, with their rich trappings and housings, astonishing every one. So perfect was the order, so effective the marshalling of the nobles, knights, pages, and select attendants who surrounded him, that on him were centred the eyes of all. In front of the procession the crash of clanging trumpets rang through the sky, nearer the centre the ear was soothed by the sweeter melody of flutes, whilst in the rear bells tinkled an accompaniment to the dulcet harmony of voluptuous lyres. Every one was dressed in gold, silver, silk, or some such precious stuff. On the necks and head-gear of many sparkled oriental gems, and the number of collars, necklaces, and bracelets exceeded what all Italy might have been expected to produce. But supereminent and conspicuous above the others was the Crown Prince of Naples, a very Absalom, borne on a proud and prancing charger, and wearing a scarf radiant with gold and pearls. When the cortège reached the Piazza di San Celso, and crowned the bridge, the heavens seemed to bellow and shake from explosions of artillery in the castle of St. Angelo, startling the fretted steeds, whose bounding movements were truly beautiful. The streets, squares, porticos, and windows were insufficient to contain the spectators."[154]

It was about this time that the hospitalities of Urbino were called into exercise by the arrival of unusual guests. The sceptre of Persia had been usurped by an adventurer, whom Italian writers have generally named Usum-cassan,[155] and whom the far-seeing policy of Venice had some fifteen years before induced to attack the Asiatic Turks. So useful an ally was conciliated by Calixtus V., as well as by the Maritime Republic; and in 1471 the oriental despot sent an embassy to confirm his relations with these powers, and obtained from them some artillery to be employed against the common enemy. His envoys, after being laden at Venice with those rare and magnificent gifts which their ramified commerce enabled its merchant princes to command, visited several petty courts in their way to Rome and Naples. Their arrival at Urbino was commemorated by the singular compliment of introducing their portraits, along with that of the Count, into an altar-picture executed by Justus of Ghent for the fraternity of Corpus Christi. Of this work we shall have to speak in our thirtieth chapter: it still hangs in the church of Sta. Agata,[*156] and represents the celebration of the Last Supper in the manner of the Romish communion, the Count and the Persian envoys figuring as spectators. In departing, they carried with them a complimentary letter in Latin from Federigo to their master, which mentions that it was written at their request.

The princely manner of welcome already established at this mountain court, which in after generations became proverbial for magnificent hospitalities, may be learned from the visit of Borso, Marquis of Ferrara, who, in March, 1471, while passing to Rome, spent four days at Urbino and Gubbio, with an escort of 500 horsemen, 100 on foot, and 150 mules. He was immediately thereafter made Duke by Paul, who signalised his elevation by a hunting-field on the most exaggerated scale. Berni tells us that it brought together about 25,000 people, and that among the returns of slaughter were 100 oxen, and as many calves. Ere a few months had passed, the Pontiff and the Duke were numbered with the dead; the former died unregretted, but the mild sway of the latter passed into a proverb, "the time of Duke Borso" being long quoted in contrast with that of less popular sovereigns. During next year another remarkable guest arrived. Pietro Riario, the new Pontiff's favourite nephew, having been raised by him to the purple, and appointed legate of all Italy, made a pompous progress throughout the provinces thus placed under his nominal jurisdiction.[*157] He was met on the frontier by the Count, accompanied by the Lords of Faenza, Rimini, and Pesaro, with a noble following, and conducted to the palace of Gubbio, Federigo and his nephew Ottaviano della Carda leading the palfrey of this proud parvenu. The name of Pietro will recur in our thirty-first chapter; meanwhile we may cite the sketch of him preserved to us by Giovanni Sanzi in reference to this visit.

"He was a man, if well his mind I wot, Magnanimous but lavish; to his friends Most generous and liberal; to the learned A patron kind, though indiscriminate. The locust well might typify his life: In youth a friar, but no longer bent On things of such high import, now he deemed Himself all but supreme. Yet of his deeds No record lives in prose or lofty song, No fame but of a splendour all apart From churchman's calling, more offensive still To laymen. Thus elate and arrogant (For pride of place the youthful heart corrupts), His whim it was through Italy to speed In gorgeous array, till sudden death Snatched him from these delights. * * * * * * * Just as a locust by the sun struck down, So perished in their prime his fancies vain, Despite the projects hatched beneath the shade Of his red hat."

---

ELEVEN years had now gone by since the marriage of Federigo, and had given him eight daughters. Although the laws of succession were neither well defined nor rigorously adhered to among Italian feudatories, a general desire to see the sovereignty secured in the line of one so justly beloved was felt throughout his state. For an object beyond human aid recourse was had to the Disposer of all good, and to Him were the prayers both of sovereigns and subjects continuously addressed for the blessing of a boy. We are told by Odasio, that the anxious Battista hesitated not to offer her own life in return for the boon of a son worthy of his father; and he gravely attests this supernatural answer to her own and her people's intercession. She saw in a dream a lovely phœnix perched upon a lofty tree, which, after sitting there for thirty-six days, winged its flight heavenward until it touched the sun, and then disappeared in flames. Coincident with this vision was the fulfilment of her desire, and in due time she presented her delighted husband and subjects with a beautiful boy.[158] As her dream occurred while resident at Gubbio, and in supposed response to appeals addressed through S. Ubaldo, the patron of that city, she was careful that her confinement should likewise take place under his auspices. The child was born there on the 17th or 24th of January, 1472,[*159] and whilst the grateful piety of his parents ordered solemn public devotional acknowledgments for the boon, the universal joy was testified by popular festivities and illuminations, which were prolonged until Lent set in. A few days after his birth he was baptised in the cathedral with becoming solemnity by the Bishop, Antonio de' Severi. The names selected were Guido Paulo Ubaldo, of which the second seems never to have been used: the first was, as we have seen, of historical illustration in the family of Montefeltro; the last acknowledged the presumed mediation of the Gubbian saint.[160]

The next partial interruption to the peace which reigned through the Peninsula arose on the side of Tuscany, and called forth the energies of Federigo. There are varying accounts how the squabbles of a few miners brought on a sanguinary contest; but its origin may thus be explained. Volterra, though nominally independent, was tributary to Florence, and under her protection. That community possessed a wide extent of rocky and barren pastures, leased annually by auction for the public good. The poverty of their surface was amply compensated by minerals buried under an arid volcanic soil, which contained abundance of alum, vitriol, salt, and sulphur, besides a sprinkling of precious metals. Some enterprising speculators having obtained a five years' lease of a portion of these grazing lands, formed a mining company along with several Florentine capitalists. The success attending their adventure roused the jealousy of certain Volterran citizens, who grudging such gains at the public expense raised a riot, in which the company's works were injured. The merchants of Florence appealed to their own government, and the intervention thus commenced led to further outrages, until, at the instance of Lorenzo de' Medici, an expedition to humble this contumacy was resolved on. After explaining to the confederate powers the causes of quarrel, the Florentine executive thus announced to their troops Count Federigo's appointment as their leader:—

"On looking round for a captain worthy of your valour, there has been no difficulty in finding one, who from his earliest years has been signalised, under the eyes of you all, by so many and great feats of arms, that there cannot be a question whom you ought to ask for, and we to give. In former times it has frequently happened that a safe commander has been discovered after great exertions and amid grievous perils. But, in this menacing war, the skill, gallantry, influence, and good fortune of the Lord of Urbino save us all trouble in searching out a leader for our army." Federigo was accordingly placed at the head of a hastily mustered force, estimated by Machiavelli at above ten thousand men, though stated much more moderately by Ammirato. Loathing the horrors of an almost civil contest, the Count anxiously desired an amicable arrangement, or, failing that, a prompt issue of this petty quarrel. In a few days he overran the territory

"Of lordly Volaterra, Where scowls the far-famed hold Piled by the hands of giants, For god-like kings of old;"

and from his quarters at Mazzola, within four miles of their gates, dissuaded the authorities from an unavailing defence, urging, according to Baldi, among other motives for wishing to spare their city, that it was the birthplace of Persius the poet, and offering his mediation to procure for them favourable terms. The magistracy, turning a deaf ear alike to friendly remonstrances and classic associations, began to fortify the place, although without a single ally, and unable to engage more than a thousand stipendiaries. To the infinite disgust of the Florentine commissaries, who desired to humble and punish a rebellious vassal, Federigo allowed the defences to be completed, on pretext of awaiting reinforcements of his own, and the pontifical troops, but in the secret hope that emissaries whom he had sent among the citizens might have better success in conciliatory representations. His forbearance was, however, unavailing against obstinate infatuation, and on the arrival of these auxiliaries, a bombardment was begun from the eastern side of the town. Its site was naturally strong, and the tactics of a siege were then always dilatory, so three weeks passed ere a breach was effected in the wall, and even then several days were spent in bringing up to it covered approaches for the assaulting party. The stipendiaries, regarding the cause as hopeless, now deserted, and the citizens deemed it full time to sue for terms. After negotiations, which were remitted to Florence, it was agreed to surrender the place, on a pledge that life and property would be spared, and that the past would be buried in oblivion. But the authorities, apprehending from their own populace and garrison an outbreak of indignation against these conditions, stipulated that troops should be secretly introduced for preservation of order, preparatory to admitting the besiegers. By some mismanagement, this attempt led to renewed hostilities from the town, but the citadel falling into the hands of the companies who had been so admitted, consternation and confusion spread on all sides. At this juncture a cry was raised from within that the sack was begun, and that all who wished for a share of plunder should look to it.

Other accounts tell us that the walls were carried by assault on the 18th of June, and that a capitulation was then agreed on, by which only certain municipal privileges were surrendered by the city; but that, as the troops entered, an alarm arose of some treacherous movement on the part of the populace, whereupon the Milanese contingent rushed headlong upon them, and commenced a general pillage. Federigo, who had remained outside with the artillery, was made aware of the bloody scenes passing within by cries from the outraged citizens. He instantly proclaimed by trumpet a cessation of hostilities and plunder, commanding all to their quarters, and enjoining the arrest of stragglers. Hurrying to the scene of horrors, he rode among the excited multitude, exerting himself to save the aged and infants, and to protect the women and convents. He compelled the soldiery to lay down their ill-gotten burdens, especially all sacred utensils, and hanged on the spot a Venetian and a Sienese commissary, the alleged authors of this insubordination. But diabolical passions thus roused brooked no control. Hours elapsed, indeed, according to some authorities nightfall arrived, ere the savages could be called off their quarry.

Such appears the substance of numerous contradictory accounts of this unfortunate and mysterious affair.[161] There can be little doubt that it originated in the licentious habits and lax discipline then usual in Italian armies, who looked on plunder as the chief end of war, and regarded pillage as a right rather than a military offence. Almost every writer acquits the Count of blame, and the only imputation against him arose from the terms of a general order, proclaiming death to every soldier found within the walls at sundown, which have been misconstrued into an implied permission for outrage till that hour. It was reserved for flatterers of an after age to soil his fair fame by an invention which they meant as incense to his memory. In proof at once of his moderation and lettered taste, he is stated by these to have contented himself with a great Hebrew Bible as his share of the booty. No contemporary gives the slightest foundation for such a tale, nor have I at all traced to Volterra that curious MS. which will be described in VI. of the Appendices. If found there and abstracted at the siege, it was not improbably presented to Federigo by the grateful authorities of Florence, from whom he refused any pay, serving them for love, whilst, in the words of old Sanzi,

"He nothing brought away but honour bright, Which every other treasure far outshines."[162]

His return from this rapid campaign to the beautiful Queen of Arnoa was a triumphal pageant. Its enthusiastic population met him beyond the gates, and escorted him with acclamations through streets draped with tapestries and rich brocades. In the piazza he was welcomed by the magistrates with a complimentary oration, and at a public banquet received as appropriate gifts the colours of the republic, a handsome charger richly caparisoned, together with a silver helmet, studded with jewels, and chased in gold by the marvellous chisel of Pollaiuolo.[163] Besides a substantial guerdon of lands, houses, brocade stuffs, and vases brimming with bullion, conferred on Federigo, valuable commercial exemptions were decreed in favour of the subjects of Urbino, and three days of uninterrupted festivity scarcely abated the popular rejoicings. Not less valuable in his eyes was the compliment which his good service earned from a private citizen. Poggio Bracciolino being on the outlook for a patron for his History of the Florentines, deemed it could be most appropriately inscribed to one who had just crowned their arms with signal success.

The star of Federigo's fortunes now reached its zenith. The scattered mountain fiefs held by his ancestors had been concentrated by his first marriage, and extended by his policy or prowess.[164] His second nuptials, long crowned by singular domestic felicity, had at length given him an heir. He had founded palaces and churches worthy the admiration of coming generations. He had wielded the batons, and he enjoyed the affectionate respect, of the five great Peninsular powers. He saw the wars, which had yielded him laurels and enriched his state, subside into a peace still more beneficial to his subjects and conducive to his tastes. But, as old Sanzi moralises,

"The spider's most attenuated thread Is cord, is cable to man's tender tie Of earthly bliss: it breaks with every breeze."

Scarcely had he quitted the scene of his triumphs, in order to bear tidings of them to one whose sympathy would have enhanced their sweets, when an express met him with alarming news of her health. Riding day and night, he reached Gubbio on the 6th of July, just in time to close the eyes of his Countess. We are fortunately enabled to give in his own words all the particulars which have reached us of this melancholy event.[165]

---

Another letter still more touchingly expresses his feelings on this bereavement. It may have been addressed to the secretary of the Duke of Milan, who had sent an ambassador to attend the obsequies of Battista. "No book lore, no personal experience, could state better than your very elegant letter the vanity of human hopes. Most consolatory has it proved to me, describing so appropriately and feelingly my varied fortune;—the affair of Volterra, the honours with which the distinguished government of Florence has complimented me, and my secret delight while returning homewards to rejoin my circle, my sweet children, my wife, precious above aught else—these all at once transmuted by a death blow, to me the most calamitous. Most impressively have you set forth my affliction, and the loss I have publicly and privately sustained: by such things may indeed be seen the uncertain issues of earthly events."

Again, in thanking the Pope for his condolence, the bereaved Count adds, "For many reasons her death was a grievous vexation, for she was the beloved consort of my fortunes and domestic cares, the delight equally of my public and private hours, so that no greater misfortune could have befallen me."

At a court already attractive to men of literary pretensions, many were ready to take up a theme recommended by sympathy and gratitude. The funeral oration by Antonio Campano, Bishop of Teramo, was printed at Cagli in 1476, and would now be a prize to collectors. The Vatican Library contains several others in manuscript, overflowing with adulation, which for once was well bestowed.[166] Battista was a remarkable instance of the transmission of talent by female descent. Her great-grandmother, Battista di Montefeltro, already celebrated in these pages,[167] though married to a man of miserable character, had a daughter Elisabetta Malatesta, who inherited her misfortunes as well as her genius. Elisabetta's daughter was Costanza Varana, the associate of scholars and philosophers, whose gifts she is said to have rivalled, notwithstanding an early death that deprived her infant Battista of a mother's care. The babe began her letters when three years old, and at four was removed to the court of her uncle, Francesco Sforza, where she was put forward to deliver publicly a Latin oration, during the festivities following upon his installation as Duke of Milan. This display of infantine self-possession and memory, indicating at all events a tractable disposition, has, with fulsome adulation, been magnified as evidence of extraordinary precocious talent, and has been retailed without inquiry, as if her discourse had been an extempore effusion.[168] On the strength of this reputation, when returned home she was made to welcome her father's more distinguished guests in public harangues, a discipline which, however injudicious, does not seem to have prevented her rapid acquisition of solid knowledge, nor to have interfered with her progress in those useful accomplishments of the needle which then formed the resource of high-born dames. The peculiarity of her character was a sedate temperament, that enabled her to take her place with singular judgment in the household of her widowed father, and gained for her several proposals of marriage even earlier than was usual in Italy. The circumstances of her union with Federigo have been noticed in 1459, and although our narrative has rarely named her, we are assured that during his frequent and prolonged absences, her judgment and tact were equally manifested in public affairs and in the management of her domestic concerns. It is startling to find her at fourteen a mother, and virtually regent of his state whilst he was employed in the war of the Neapolitan succession during 1461 and 1462. She spent the spring of both these years with him in winter quarters, the former at Magliano on the northern limit of the Campagna; the latter in the Eternal City, where she interchanged complimentary harangues in Latin with the diplomatic body, and where Pius II., himself no mean critic, praised her eloquence as equalled only by her discretion, and pronounced that fame had understated her merits. On this occasion, among other distinctions, his Holiness received her in full consistory, and conferred the spurs of knighthood on twelve of her suite. Yet these flattering demonstrations in no respect marred the freshness of her character, and devotional observances were the chief object of her visit to Rome. Though gifted with beauty of a high caste, simple dress and manners were her delight, and it was only on state occasions that, indulging her husband's taste rather than her own fancy, she displayed such magnificent attire as is represented in the characteristic portrait here introduced. It is very happily rendered from the original in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence, where profile likenesses of herself and her husband are enclosed in one frame. They were painted by Piero della Francesca, court limner of Urbino, whom we shall mention in our twenty-seventh chapter, and afford highly interesting specimens of early portraiture and mediæval costume. The Countess wears a robe of boldly flowered brocade, from beneath which emerges the richly bullioned sleeve of her vest. Her jewels are massive but elegant; her elaborate head-dress tastefully disposes a superabundance of luxurious hair—the distinctive beauty of Italian women. Yet a fashion of shaving above the forehead has somewhat marred the harmony of her features, by unduly exposing her "modest and majestic eye." This happily descriptive epithet we owe to Giovanni Sanzi, who knew her well, and scanned her features with an artist's glance; but his tribute merits an extract.

"Then closed that modest and majestic eye. Her pious soul, from mundane risks released, To God its rapid flight devoutly winged, Leaving a tearful household, and the state Grief-stricken, whilst Italia's noblest names Partook their sorrow."

Muzio says, that by "her death was dissolved the most honoured, fitting, and congruous union of that or any other age."

The obsequies, as announced by Federigo to the Priors of Siena, were celebrated with singular magnificence on the 17th of August, in the Church of S. Bernardino, at Urbino. They were attended by thirty-eight envoys from the princes, cities, and great feudatories of Italy, excluding those of Venice and Siena, retarded by bad weather. These deputations formed a retinue of three hundred and sixteen nobles, besides two hundred and ninety belonging to the court of Urbino, and three hundred and eight ecclesiastics. The procession was swelled by crowds of citizens from every town in the state, so that nearly 2000 appeared in mourning garb.[169] The Countess left six daughters and an infant son, the care of whom was a serious burden to her lord. But Sanzi tells us that,

"Feeling at length how sad and profitless It were on this dark world his hopes to rest, His grief within his inmost heart he hid, And mastered it in grave and modest guise."[170]

The next two years were chiefly passed at home, in bringing his mind to this pious resignation, in urging forward his palaces, and in administering his authority for the welfare of an attached people. Of an existence so tranquil and pleasing no glimpses are transmitted to us by his biographers, for it was barren of those martial feats which they considered the almost exclusive field of their labours. But from its not inglorious repose he was called to new honours.

On the 20th of August, 1474, he entered Rome with an escort of two thousand horse. Next morning he was summoned to receive the dignity of Duke from Sixtus, who met him in the great doorway of St. Peter's. There was, however, the preliminary compliment of creating him Knight of St. Peter, in this form. The Pontiff being seated on his throne, the Count was placed on his left, just below the cardinals. High mass having proceeded as far as the gloria, he was led by the Pope's favourite nephews, Girolamo Riario and Giovanni della Rovere, in front of the throne, and knelt on its steps, while Sixtus, taking from one of them the sword of St. Peter, elaborately blessed it, and placed it in his hands, with an injunction to wield it for the Church, and against the enemies of Christ's cross. He was then girt with it by Cardinal Orsini, the nephews meanwhile buckling on his golden spurs, and at a signal from the master of ceremonies, he drew and twice brandished it, returning it to its scabbard. These accoutrements being removed, mass was continued, and, whilst the litanies were chanted, he took the usual oath of fidelity, returning thereafter to his place. Before reading of the Gospel he was conducted to the sacristy by Cardinals Gonzaga and Zeno, where his knightly mantle of gold brocade having been replaced by a ducal robe of similar material, he was again led to his place. The Gospel being concluded, he was taken by them during the offertory once more before his Holiness, who, as Federigo stooped to kiss the pax, suspended from his neck a golden chain, at which hung an exquisite leash (dilascio), and placed on his head a ducal cap,[171] giving into his hand the sceptre, accompanied with appropriate benedictions and exhortations. Having next been led apart, he read aloud the customary oath of fidelity to Pontiff and Church, after which followed the salutations in this form. Prostrated before the Pope, he kissed his feet and hands, whilst prayers were proffered by his Holiness, who then tenderly embraced him. Proceeding to the cardinals, he touched their hands and kissed each, paying the like compliment to the empty seats of those absent, after which he took his place by them. This ceremony ended, he again knelt before the Pontiff, who consigned to him two standards, one with the arms of the Church, the other with his own, and created him Gonfaloniere, declaring him general of the new league.

The Duke of Urbino, thus laden with dignities, was conducted to the foot of the great stairs of St. Peter's; and, as he mounted a charger, the gift of his Holiness, the air reverberated with the clang of trumpets, the drone of bagpipes, and the crash of artillery from St. Angelo. Twenty cardinals and a crowd of nobles, prelates, and spectators escorted him to his lodging at the SS. Apostoli, but as the procession crossed the bridge they were dismayed by an evil omen. A sudden gust of wind striking the newly inaugurated standards, their staffs broke over, and they were dashed to the ground.[172]

Porcellio asserts that, besides these tokens of high favour bestowed by himself, Sixtus had employed his influence in forwarding Federigo's pretensions to the foreign decorations at this time conferred on him. Such an accumulation of good offices from a pope whom he had not as yet been able to serve, had been ascribed to the nepotism so conspicuous in his Holiness's arrangements. If this be true, the clue to it is afforded by a marriage solemnised next day, whereby their respective families were allied. The Duke's daughter Giovanna was then wedded to Giovanni della Rovere, nephew of Sixtus, who soon after obtained for him from the reluctant consistory an investiture of Sinigaglia and Mondavio, that hard-won territory which Federigo had conquered for the Church from its contumacious vassal Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta, and which came eventually to be united with Urbino under the second dynasty of its dukes. On the same day were celebrated the nuptials of another of his daughters, Agnesina, to Fabrizio Colonna. The hereditary talents of her mother, which we have recently traced through several descents,[173] were revived in a daughter of this marriage, Vittoria Colonna, the ill-mated wife of the Marquis of Pescara, whose piety, genius, and beauty divide the applause of her contemporaries, and whom we shall mention in our forty-ninth chapter.

Early in September Federigo repaired to Naples, and the King, having about this time resolved to institute an Order of knighthood, selected for its badge the Ermine, an animal emblematical of purity, whose fur has long been a royal ornament, and named his eldest son and the Duke of Urbino among its original members.[174] Their installation took place at Naples on the 11th of that month, in the chapel royal, where high mass was celebrated, the court attending in gala. After reading of the Epistle, the two acolytes were led by a deputation of nobles into the sacristy, and put on tunics of white damask in the Turkish fashion, after which they were reconducted to the chapel, and having kissed hands, were placed beside the monarch. When the Gospel had been chanted, they were arrayed by the Sovereign with the mantle of the order, which was of scarlet satin lined with ermine fur, open at the right side, and flowing to the feet. A sermon, appropriate to the occasion, having been delivered, they were led to the high altar, where, kneeling, they received their collars, being rich chains of gold, from which hung the insignia, an ermine studded with diamonds and other jewels. The King then calling the young Antonio, who had accompanied his father from Urbino, knighted him, girding a sword to his side, and placing a golden chain on his neck, with an admonition that he should walk in his parent's steps. The ceremonial was concluded by a splendid breakfast in the palace; and four days thereafter the Count set out for Rome, escorted some way by Ferdinand, from whom he parted with mingled embraces and tears.

The English Order of the Garter, instituted by Edward III in 1344, has always enjoyed a European reputation, from its ranks being recruited by foreign sovereigns and heroes. At the chapter of 26th February, 1474, four votes were given to Federigo, and on the 18th of the following August, he was unanimously elected, by the seven knights present, to the stall vacated by Lord Montjoy. He soon after paid, by the Chancellor's hands, 109 pence as fees, and had been installed before the following April. Thus far we have Anstis for our guide; but the unfortunate loss of all the early records of the Order renders us dependent for further particulars on Italian writers. Among these we have met with no contemporary authorities except the epics of Sanzi and Porcellio, whose details, however curious, are scarcely of historical value. These deficiencies are, however, in some measure supplied from a letter-book of Federigo preserved in the Vatican, upon which we have drawn largely for this incident in his career. But in order that the context of our narrative may not be interrupted by somewhat lengthened extracts, they are thrown together into VII. of the Appendices, and will, it is hoped, prove an interesting contribution to the scanty muniments of the Garter. His investiture took place at Grottoferrata during the autumn of 1474, and he commissioned his relative Pietro degli Ubaldini to proceed to England as proxy for his installation.[175]

---

The great captains under or from whom Federigo had gathered his laurels were now all dead, and his military reputation far transcended that of any remaining condottiere. It was, therefore, not without jealousy that the powers of Upper Italy saw him establish relations of such close amity with the Pope and Ferdinand. Other matters tended to aggravate the feelings of alarm thus generated. Not satisfied with indulging his nepotism at the expense of the Holy See, Sixtus showed tendencies to an aggressive policy against his neighbours. A portion of the treasure supposed to have been accumulated by his avaricious predecessor, but of which he gave no account, was suspected to have been employed in purchasing for his favourite nephew, Girolamo, the seigneury of Imola from the Manfredi. A local squabble at Todi, dignified with the almost forgotten watchwords of Guelph and Ghibelline, afforded him a pretext for sending thither another nephew, the Cardinal della Rovere, at the head of an army, which, though marching under the papal banner, sided with the self-styled imperialist faction. The Pontiff, who had long seen with regret the feeble hold which his predecessors maintained over their vassals, and even over the nominal subjects of the Church, commissioned his legate to carry out the good work thus begun. Accordingly, after chastising Todi and Spoleto, Giuliano advanced into the upper valley of the Tiber, in order to reduce Città di Castello, where the Vitelli had for some time exercised absolute sovereignty with the title of Vicar. To this expedition the Duke of Urbino gave his aid, and on its successful issue carried several of that family to Rome, in order to intercede for their pardon.

These events accelerated arrangements in the north for a combination calculated to balance the threatening attitude of the southern powers, and in November a defensive treaty was signed by Milan, Venice, and Florence, under reservation, however, to the Pope and King of Naples to accede to the new league. Of this they declined availing themselves, content with general professions of moderation and peace, which, fortunately acted upon, prolonged the general tranquillity of Italy, and enabled her energies to be directed with tolerable unanimity against the Turks. The three years of renewed repose which followed were spent by Federigo at home, in the indulgence of those humane tastes which signalised his court, and laid a foundation for that cultivation of mind by which Urbino became distinguished. This may accordingly be the best place to review his patronage of letters.

The constant repetition of his name in that capacity by writers on literary history leads to an impression that his zeal was remarkable, and that its fruits are attested by ample remains. The former of these conclusions is more correct than the latter. Italian authors have been too prone to re-echo vague compliments; their encomiums are lavish rather than discriminating; rhetorical panegyrics, not portraits to the life; accordingly, most of the plaudits thus bestowed on him are mere phrases of rote, reiterated without varying form of added force. Fortunately there remains to us substantial evidence that they were well founded. Muzio, who wrote about half a century after his death, with full access to original documents, tells us that it was his daily habit to be read to during meals, and to discuss with his courtiers such questions in theology, history, or philosophy as thus arose. When at Urbino, he used to repair weekly to the convent of S. Francesco, for the purpose of maintaining similar disputations with the resident friars, and by these expedients

"Held converse with Zabarell, Aquinas, Scotus, and the musty saw Of antick Donate."

Of Grecian literature, which after the fall of the Eastern Empire came into sudden repute in the Peninsula, he was one of the earliest promoters. Lazzari cites records, proving that in 1467 he brought to his capital Angelo, one of the fugitive Greeks, and, two years later, his countryman, Demetrio, for the purpose of teaching their language. It was under him that the Feltrian court first became what Ruscelli has designated it in the motto prefixed to this work, "a fountain which, in the sober truth of history, rather than in poetic vein, may be called a real Hippocrene." No complete list has come to us of the poets and philosophers who found shelter there, nor would it much avail us to recover names few of which merit a better fate than the obscurity that has long overshadowed them. The fifteenth century was more remarkable for the diffusion of learning than for commanding genius. There were earnestness and laborious diligence in abundance, but they were content to follow or imitate foregone conclusions rather than to strike out new and striking turns of thought. Such was the character of many of those works which, composed for or dedicated to this Duke, remain in MS.,[*176] slumbering undisturbed, and deservedly forgotten, on the shelves of the Vatican. Several of them, being devoted to commemorate his actions or his contemporaries, held out to me a rich promise of racy material. But servile in style as in substance, and disfigured by the borrowed diction and engrafted mythology of classic models, they often proved in all respects unsatisfactory references, ill repaying the time bestowed on their examination. It will be necessary to allude more particularly, in our twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth chapters, to such of their authors as belonged to the court of Urbino; meanwhile we may mention a few works dedicated to Federigo by learned men in other parts of Italy, from which it would seem that the rival systems of Plato and Aristotle shared his attention and patronage.

Ptolemy's geography was translated into Latin verse by Berlinghieri, who inscribed to Federigo the result of his ill-bestowed toil, in a splendid MS., richly illuminated, which remains in the Brera library. The published work was also issued in 1480, under sanction of his name, as was the translation of another work of Ptolemy by Pontano. To these Baldi adds Marsilio Ficino's Epistles on the Platonic Theology and translation of Plato's Dialogue de Regno, Alemanno Rinuccini's translations of Aristotle and Philostratus, Paolo Marso's Commentary upon the Fasti of Ovid, Nicolò Perotto's Cornucopia, Poggio's Historia Populi Florentini, as specimens of a catalogue which might be greatly lengthened.[177] In the volume of his own MS. letters already often quoted, we find him thanking Naldo of Florence for his poem on the Volterran expedition, and acknowledging the Disputationes Camaldulenses of Cristoforo Landino. Writing to Donato Acciaiuolo, he avows the pleasure and advantage derived from perusing his Commentaries on a book of ethics, and expresses satisfaction that he had succeeded in persuading him to undertake a similar work on politics, for which he thanks him in a subsequent letter, apologising for having detained his messenger until he had read a great portion of it with the utmost pleasure, and enjoining reliance on his friendship and services.[178]

Before leaving the subject of dedications, we may quote the following singular illustration of literary history.

Francesco di Giorgio, in his Treatise on Architecture, mentions Duke Federigo as holding out inducements for the learned men at his court to illustrate the works of classic authors on architecture and sculpture. But no testimony to his literary habits can be more satisfactory than that of his librarian Vespasiano, to the following purpose.[180] The Duke was a ready Latin scholar, and extremely fond of ancient history. As a logician he had attained considerable aptitude, having studied Aristotle's Ethics along with Maestro Lazzaro, a famous theologian, who became Bishop of Urbino, discussing with him the most intricate passages. By the like process he mastered the Stagirite's politics, physics, and other treatises; and having acquired more philosophy than any contemporary prince, his thirst for new sources of knowledge induced him to devote himself to theology with equal zeal. The principal works of St. Thomas Aquinas and Duns Scotus were habitually read to him; he preferred the former as more clear, but admitted that the latter displayed greater subtlety in argument. He was well acquainted with the Bible, as well as the commentaries of Saints Ambrose, Jerome, Augustine, and Gregory; also with the writings of the Greek fathers, such as Saints Basil, Chrysostom, Gregory Naziazen, Nicetas, Athanasius, and Cyril. Among the classic authors whom he was in the habit of reading or listening to were Livy, Sallust, Quintus Curtius, Justin, Cæsar, Plutarch, Ælius Spartianus, Æmylius Protus, Tacitus, Suetonius, Eusebius. All men of letters visiting Urbino were hospitably entertained, and several were always attached to his court. His largesses to such were at all times liberal. He spent above 1500 ducats in this way when at Florence, and remitted similar bounties to Rome and Naples. He gave 1000 ducats to the learned Campano, professor of belles-lettres at Perugia in 1455,[*181] who aided him in collecting ancient MSS., and became Bishop of Teramo. Nor were elegant accomplishments neglected. His acquaintance with the principles and practice of architecture excelled that of most contemporaries in any station, enabling him to superintend personally the plans and execution of his palaces and other buildings. He was equally at home in military engineering, and applied to his numerous fortified places such modifications as the introduction of artillery required, especially in reducing their altitude. The kindred sciences of geometry and arithmetic were his favourite studies, and not long before his death, he had a course of these read to him by Maestro Paolo, a learned German astrologer, retained at his court. In music, his taste and knowledge were excellent; there were in his chapel and palace bands of choristers and skilful performers, the organ being his favourite instrument. He was familiar with sculpture, and adopted it in the ornaments of his palace. He brought from Flanders a celebrated painter in oil, and employed him to execute many portraits; also from thence workers in gold and silver tapestry, the beauty of whose performances resulted in a great degree from his own connoisseurship and tastes, which pervaded all he had executed in the fine arts.[182]

This testimony of Vespasiano is confirmed by Sanzi, also a contemporary in attendance on his court, whose account, although inferring some repetition, may be given in his own words:—

"Since excellence in sooth gives no repose To men of merit, least to those of names Already known to glory, so the Count, Though laden with the laurels of the field, To mental discipline himself addressed. And anxious to employ his ardent thoughts On elevating themes, he Ethics chose Whereon to bend his mind, and took as guide One Messer Lazzaro, a preaching friar Of singular repute; a good divine, In whom each gentle, each endearing trait With honour and devotion blended well. On Aristotle's writings all intent, His learning to their wisdom glory gave; And gladly entered he upon the task Of clearly setting forth their lustrous thoughts In daily readings, oft at matin hours. With zealous mind and intellect matured, The Count a great and rapid progress made; And as no generous spirit willingly Leaves favours unrequited, by his means His able master filled Urbino's see,— A guerdon gratefully received. Thus fond Of study, he his time could seldom spend To disadvantage. Even as he took His modest frugal meals at home, or when He sojourned elsewhere, it was his delight To listen whilst from ancient histories, Or recent chronicles, were read details Of martial deeds, discerning readily How sped the fortune of the fight ere yet Its changing turns were told. Of maxims shrewd And singular he master was beyond Most others; nor from table would he rise Whilst any staid to crave an audience. To Arithmetic daily he applied, And Algebra's high science, with success, By Paul Alamanno taught; to whom seemed plain Truths hid from many; who the heavens had scanned For years successive, and the stars had tracked, Until celestial influences grew To him familiar; an exponent famed Of physical philosophy, and hence Much favoured by the Count."

The digression as to Federigo's literary habits and circle into which we have been led, would detain us too long from the more immediate object of our narrative, were we now to inquire into his patronage of art and artists. This will be discussed in our fourth book; meanwhile we resume the story of his life.

---

THE mediæval history of Italy is too frequently traced in characters of blood, and the period which we have now reached, although generally regarded as one of comparative tranquillity, was signalised by conspiracies systematically matured, and by murders perpetrated in high places with revolting barbarity. It matters little that they were instigated by political abuses or provoked by domestic tyranny; so repugnant is assassination to the better feelings of mankind, that public sympathy is ever with the sufferer, and the crime is perpetuated by history as a national stigma. The brutalising influence of such deeds descends like an hereditary taint to after generations, and to it may in a great measure be ascribed the recklessness of human life, and the consequent reputation for cruelty, which are still imputed to the Italian nature, and which recent events but too sadly confirm.

The earnestness of character, the energy of mind and action, which had gained for Francesco Sforza the sovereignty of Milan, passed not to his son. Galeazzo Maria was magnificent in his tastes. His court was the most splendid of a brilliant age. In his duchy justice was prompt and impartial. But his foreign policy and personal courage were unstable, in his home administration cruelty and oppression were aggravated by caprice. Yet these faults and foibles might have been endured, had not the patience of his subjects been worn out by outrages against their domestic peace. Machiavelli informs us that hatred to their ruler, and the comparative benefits of a republic, were lessons habitually instilled into such of the young nobles as frequented the school of Cola Montano, then the most eminent teacher in Milan. But it was not until several of these youths found their wives or sisters sacrificed by the Duke's ruthless debauchery, that the seditious seeds thus implanted sprang to sudden and full growth. Seldom have the secrets of conspiracy and murder been so fully detected and exposed.[183] There is, however, a melodramatic effect of the narrative of old Sanzi which entitles it to notice as contemporary and unpublished, although apparently biassed in favour of Galeazzo. The three conspirators, mingling fanaticism with vengeance, sought by religious observances to sanctify the deed of horror. Their invocation to their city's patron saint for blessings on the attempt, with a solemnity ill becoming its sacrilege, has been preserved; but Sanzi adds that they bribed an apostate priest to consecrate at the altar a sacramental wafer, which he administered not until each had shed upon it a drop of his blood,—a blasphemous rite intended to seal their mutual vows of fidelity and secrecy; also that they used to rehearse their fury, and practise their swordsmanship, against a wooden puppet, decked out in gold brocade, and kept for the purpose in one of their houses. Among the solemn functions of Christmas week was that of St. Stephen, performed in the picturesque old fane dedicated to the protomartyr, where it was usual for the court to attend; the Duke on this occasion accidentally left behind a cuirass, that defence of despots, which he was wont to wear, and thus unconsciously facilitated the execution of a concerted project. It was customary, in allusion to the expiring year, to fire a light mass of carded flax suspended in the church, whilst a warning voice

"Exclaimed, 'Thus human glory vanishes; Unhappy he who hazards there his hopes!'"

As the sovereign raised his eyes to this touching emblem of transient and fragile existence, he was done to instant death by the poignards of the three conspirators.[*184] The moral offences imputed to the wretched man thus miserably summoned to his account have been collected by Sismondi, the consistent impugner of princes.[185] Sanzi, who generally leans to them, has thus painted them in colours less loathsome:—

"A man he was remarkable for worth, Though charged with faults not few, which in his state Were freely challenged. Happy years of youth, Though pregnant with the germs of age mature, And preluding too oft its perils grave! Here must my tongue this prince exalt, as one Who even-handed justice dealt to all, Subject or stranger, noble or obscure; Nor willed that any, founding on his wealth Or station, should the meanest pauper vex. Yet is he censured as one pitiless, And prone to undue passion: trite reproach Of prosperous despots!"

The steady support long given by the Duke of Urbino to the Sforzan dynasty suggested him as his most valuable stay in this crisis of peril, and in obedience to a summons of the widowed Duchess he made ready to march northward. The policy of the Holy See and of Naples, whose batons he jointly held, clearly tended towards Lombardy; but, unlike most successful conspiracies, the murder of Galeazzo Maria led to no revolution, and Federigo returned to vindicate the papal authority against the turbulent Carlo Braccio, who, ambitious of his father's fame and fortunes, and instigated by Lorenzo de' Medici, threatened Perugia from his stronghold of Montone. The ruin of so petty an opponent added no laurel to the victor's already loaded chaplet.

The Duke of Milan left a daughter, Caterina, the fruit of a boyish intrigue, who was born in 1462, and became one of the most remarkable women of her time. On the election of Sixtus, her father, willing to conciliate by family ties a pontiff whose energy of character promised no ordinary career, offered her in marriage to Girolamo Riario, one of his favourite nephews, whom he had in 1480 created Count of Forlì, the dispossessed fief of the Ordelaffi. In order that the bride's dowry might tempt the ambitious Vicar of Christ, her father, in 1473, made over to her such rights to the sovereignty of Imola as he had obtained by purchase from its lords the Manfredi; and after the parties had been betrothed, that seigneury was confirmed to Girolamo by his Holiness as its ecclesiastical over-lord.[186] Caterina being, however, but in her eleventh year, the nuptials were postponed, and she meanwhile remained at Milan, cultivating the abstruse and ornamental branches which were then included in female education. Endowed with a lively genius, a ready apprehension, and a singularly retentive memory, she quickly mastered these studies, and acquired a rare facility of expressing herself with elegance and propriety. Her marriage was solemnised soon after her father's murder, and having being carried by her husband to Rome, she was welcomed with magnificent festivities by the Pope, who found in her a brilliancy of beauty and a courtesy of manner excelling all that rumour had anticipated. Out of the growing favour of Sixtus for Count Girolamo, seconded by his own ambitious intrigues, which aimed at an extended sovereignty, sprang the seeds of a new conspiracy not less atrocious than that of which the Duke of Milan was victim, and far more widely influencing the politics of Italy.

---

Among the envoys who had repaired from all the parts of Italy to hail the advent of Sixtus to the tiara was Lorenzo de' Medici; and he has described the honourable reception and gifts accorded him by a pontiff whose favour was ere long turned to deadly hatred. Aware of the rising influence of this youthful guest, the Pope sought to attach him by substantial benefits, including his nomination as banker to the Camera Apostolica, with power to manage that important charge through his uncle Tornabuoni, then resident from Florence at the papal court. Fabroni, in his Life of Lorenzo, tells us that his Holiness, wishing to realise the costly jewels accumulated by Paul II., sold them to the Medici at a price yielding a large profit to the purchasers, who gained still more from a lease, now conferred upon them, of the alum mines at Cento Celle. Results more generally important of this visit were the valuable relics in literature and art, which the Florentine ambassador was enabled, by the liberality of the Pope, and many dignitaries, to accumulate; and the strong representations which he made, not vainly, against a reckless destruction of ancient buildings in the city. But this amicable intercourse quickly cooled, and the mutual jealousies of the parties, arising from complicated causes, became aggravated by various concurrent grudges. Sixtus, ambitious and warlike, desired to make himself arbiter, if not autocrat, of Italy. Lorenzo was a man of peace, content to preserve the status quo with his neighbours, that he might leisurely establish at home, on a firm basis, such power as should enable him to promote the commercial prosperity and intellectual pre-eminence of his native city. From similar views, rather than as a means of territorial aggrandisement, he sought to extend his family influence, by securing for his brother Giuliano a seat in the sacred college. With unaccountable blindness, the Pope refused a favour which policy should have induced him to volunteer; and from that moment the Medici were entirely alienated. Their able diplomacy and ample means were especially directed to thwart the views of his Holiness upon the feudatories of Romagna. By their aid, Città di Castello had, in 1474, resisted the arms of his legate Giuliano della Rovere; at their suggestion, two years later, Carlo Braccio made an attempt upon Perugia; further, their credit was interposed to extricate Taddeo Manfredi from those pecuniary difficulties which induced him to surrender his fief of Imola to the Duke of Milan. The last of these intrigues, although unavailing, provoked the special indignation of Count Girolamo Riario, who, finding himself thwarted in his matrimonial scheme, hampered in the acquisition of a new state, and baffled in his aims at further sovereignty, by the ever-watchful policy of Lorenzo, employed his boundless influence to stimulate the Pontiff's growing dislike for the Medici. This was at first vented in petty slights. Lorenzo lost his agency for the Holy See; and his personal enemy, Salviati, received the richly endowed mitre of Pisa. The quarrel, thus exasperated by mutual affronts, boiled up until it exploded in bloody vengeance.

It is worthy of remark, that in Florence, which by democratic writers is upheld as the model of Italian republics, almost every convulsion originated from some personal pique or family feud, rather than in any general outbreak against intolerable oppression. Without pausing to examine how far the same remark is applicable to many popular revolutions, we shall glance hurriedly at the events of the Pazzi conspiracy, one of the numerous and melancholy proofs of corruption and bad faith in high places, during these the palmy days of Italian prosperity.

Those jealousies, with which the rising star of the Medici had to contend in their native city, were the natural fruit of their rapidly extending wealth and influence, rather than of direct aggressions upon its freedom. They were sown by rival families,

"Whose aim was but themselves to magnify,"

and who were greedy of an ascendancy which, in other hands, would probably have been used with less moderation; but in most cases they were rendered abortive by the universal popularity of those against whom they were directed. Among these rivals were the Pazzi, an injury to one of whom, from the operation of a new law limiting female succession, fanned into flame the smouldering sparks of an old hatred. Francesco, another of this family, who resided at Rome, and who supplanted Lorenzo as papal banker, seems to have been the first to suggest violence, urged it is said by Count Girolamo, with whom he was intimate, and who is alleged to have interested his uncle, the Pope, in the foul scheme. At all events, there can be little doubt that the plot was matured at Rome, and that its execution was chiefly entrusted to Cardinal Raffaele Riario, the Count's nephew, aided by Francesco Salviati, Archbishop of Pisa, and by others who owed some private grudge to the Medici. The purpose of this conspiracy, apparently stimulated by a prelate, directed by a cardinal, and sanctioned by the Pontiff, was the murder of Lorenzo and his brother Giuliano. After repeated postponements, the blow was struck on the 26th of April, 1478, in the cathedral of Florence, during celebration of high mass, the elevation of the Host being the concerted signal for an assassination by priestly hands. The sacrilegious attempt was but partially successful. Giuliano, struck down by the dagger of Francesco de' Pazzi, fell pierced by many mortal wounds; but Lorenzo, after receiving a slight flesh-cut, was hurried by his attached friends into the sacristy, and its doors secured. Salviati and other conspirators meanwhile made a vain attempt to possess themselves of the Palazzo Pubblico, and raise a revolutionary cry; but they being resisted from within, and seconded by no response of the citizens, with whom the existing government was highly popular, the émeute was promptly put down, the Archbishop and its other leaders being instantly hanged from the windows, and their bodies tossed into the piazza.

The melancholy catalogue of crime contains no blacker atrocity, none more fatal by example and social results, than such concerted murders as those of Galeazzo Maria Sforza and Giuliano de' Medici. Yet when history arraigns their assassins at the bar of human judgment, due consideration should be given to certain extenuating pleas. The age was one of violence, when life was little valued, and religion exercised no vital influence on morals; when their public and private excesses too often rendered those in high places a common nuisance; when justice and vengeance were convertible terms, the dagger or the poisoned draught their ready instruments. As we write these sentences similar outrages are revived. One looked upon as the most enlightened and most practical of Italian liberals is suddenly called to administer the temporal affairs of Rome at a crisis of singular difficulty. His private life is unchallenged, his public policy untried. As he enters the anticipated scene of his future labours,—the first constitutional assembly ever attempted in a city which had long ruled the world,—he falls pierced to the heart by the poignard of a dastardly miscreant. A crime for centuries disused becomes again national, consecrated by pæans of the Roman populace, who tramp the streets chanting—

"Blessings on the hand That laid the tyrant low."[187]

When the dismal tidings reached Leghorn, the mob hurry to the piazza, prompt, like the old democracy of Florence, to overturn existing powers on the chance of new masters. The governor of the city, and guardian of its peace, accepts and celebrates the cowardly murder, by announcing to them from his balcony that "Pellegrino Rossi, a man hated by all Italy for his principles, has fallen by a son of the ancient Roman republic. May God save his soul, and the liberty of Italy!"

But to return from the melodramatic horrors of modern Italian politics. Confessions by subordinate agents traced the origin of this disgraceful plot of the Pazzi to the Roman court, and Sixtus, so far from repelling the charge, adopted the attitude of a partisan, by excommunicating Lorenzo and all Florence. The manifesto by which he sought to justify this measure affords no sufficient defence, nor any satisfactory contradiction of his privacy to the designs of the Pazzi; indeed, when hard names are substituted for facts, and mixed up with transparent evasions or detected falsehoods, the cause which they defend naturally becomes suspected.

The official documents by which the Pontiff must be judged are accessible to English readers in the Appendix to Roscoe's Life of Lorenzo.[188] Giovanni Sanzi, whose ample details were unknown to that accomplished biographer, confirms generally his account of the conspiracy, but mentions a report that when imparted to his Holiness he refused his consent, and dissuaded its leaders from their design. This, if proved, would still leave him under scandal as an accessory after the fact. We learn from the same chronicle that Duke Federigo, when asked to share the plot, scouted it as utterly revolting to his honour, and calculated to overwhelm its authors with eternal infamy, adding that, during his own long struggle with Sigismondo Malatesta, similar expedients had been repeatedly suggested to him, but that by God's grace he had been enabled to resist them all: at the same time he expressed his readiness to take the field against the Medici, and try the fortune of war in open campaign. Lorenzo having subsequently sent to demand why he concealed the conspiracy thus brought to his knowledge, he denied the necessity of offending a good friend by imparting to an enemy an attempt which he disapproved and abhorred, adding, that he would soon be in Tuscany to settle all differences in honourable warfare.

Sanzi has thus rendered Lorenzo's spirited address to his fellow citizens, when struck by excommunication and menaced with war:—

"Hear me! fair Florence' worthy denizens, Thus called to choose betwixt my house and peace. If 'tis your will our race to sacrifice, Behold me ready, manacled and bound; The fatal doom to suffer lead me forth! Oh! that my blood the Pontiff might appease, And sate the vengeance of yon bloody Count. Oh! that, as metal by the fire refined, You'd in the furnace cast me, from yourselves To parry discipline not less severe. But well I warn you that such woe to us For you were still more fatal, and our foes, My doom once sealed, your freedom straight would curb."

The appeal was not vainly made. The Lateran thunders fell harmless on a people who, rallying round their favourite leader, appealed to a general council, and meanwhile compelled their clergy to disregard the censures hurled at them. Spiritual weapons being thus foiled, the Pontiff had recourse to temporal arms.

The war which ensued, though limited in its field, included many parties. Sixtus was supported by the Dukes of Calabria and Urbino, the latter acting as generalissimo. The Medici, strengthened at home and abroad by the failure of a conspiracy equally atrocious and unprovoked, had for allies France and Venice, the Dukes of Milan and Ferrara, with the Marquis of Mantua. Sismondi justly observes that the Pope was prepared to take advantage of an explosion which he had premeditated, whilst the Florentines were surprised at a moment of confidence and repose. The ecclesiastical troops were accordingly first in the field, and having united with those of Naples, entered Tuscany by the Val di Chiana early in July. But on the do-little system which then constituted warfare, the Dukes of Calabria and Urbino, though met by no effectual opposition, lingered away the summer, countermarching in plains where malaria was ever rife, and signalising themselves by forays upon townships incapable of defence. Leaving on the left Siena, their faithful and effective ally, they reduced Radda on the 24th of August; but instead of then pushing forward to the Arno, they consumed the autumn, attacking in detail many surrounding places, of which Monte Sansovino alone offered a serious resistance.

The exact sciences, which were encouraged at the court of Urbino, took there, as elsewhere, the tendency most easy in an age of prevailing superstition. Maestro Paolo, a noted German adept, was accordingly retained by the Duke, and taught him astrology along with the kindred branches of geometry and arithmetic. Yet Cortesio tells us that, although he always had about him a number of soothsayers, and, in deference to the notions current among his soldiery and subjects, pretended to rely upon their prognostics, he utterly despised all kinds of divination. The only notice of the subject I have discovered among his letters is contained in one addressed to Ant—— Nar——, which may have been written during the siege of Monte Sansovino, or possibly from the leaguer of Colle, eleven months later. The reader will judge how far it ought to be received with the gloss suggested by Cortesio.

"I observe in your former longer letters that you wish to draw auguries of futurity, which you announce to be pregnant with events of the highest moment, saying that now is the time to gird ourselves for great things; indeed, such words seem to point at some loftier issue. It would, therefore, be agreeable to us that you should again acquaint us by letter, whether that augury really infers any imminent result. For, if perchance you allude only to this siege, we acknowledge to have undertaken a difficult business, and that the town is by nature or art amply provided; yet do we hope, through the grace of the eternal God, to effect that which we have taken in hand. But if you refer to something else, it will be not less gratifying to have from you some explanation, and to know if it rest on your own or another's opinion. Farewell."[189]

The leaguer was protracted by an incident mentioned by Sanzi, who dwells at considerable length on a portion of his hero's life scarcely touched by other biographers. The army suffering from scarcity and sickness, natural results of its prolonged stay in a narrow and unhealthy country, the dispirited troops sighed for winter quarters. It happened that, during a skirmish, two of the Orsini, relations, but banded under opposite banners, met and interchanged mutual wishes for a truce. These aspirations, reported to the Duke of Urbino, were promptly and publicly refused. The garrison, misled by this apparent anxiety to continue hostilities, proposed a suspension of arms, the very measure most fatal to their safety. This was accepted for ten days, during which the besiegers obtained rest and forage, and, when thus recruited from their languor, quickly reduced the place: it surrendered on the 8th of December, whereupon the army fell back on Bonconvento to pass the winter.

In a letter to Matthew Corvinus, King of Hungary, Federigo thus briefly narrates this campaign:—"During last summer the illustrious Lord Duke of Calabria was in the field, leading a large body of fine troops of my Lords, the Pope and his Serene Majesty, against the League, and had numerous advantages, especially in the Florentine territory. Many of the enemy's castles and towns were taken, dismantled, and burned, notwithstanding a very powerful army arrayed against us, so that they were outmanœuvred, as well in the estimation as by the efficiency of our troops, and their strongholds were attacked and carried by us. In consequence of these successes, besides taking many towns, we made forays, plundering and wasting the country even to the gates of Florence. Just then fortune turned quite against us, and one after another our munitions and supplies failed. There first occurred an immense explosion of artillery stores, which prevented our undertaking further operations, and, subsequently, on opening the siege of Monte Sansovino, a place of great importance to us, we found ourselves in absolute want of everything, from the terrible plague which raged throughout the friendly territory of Siena. This, with continual heavy rains, weakened our army exceedingly; and when the enemy discovered that we were thus harassed by contagion, dearth, and weather, they advanced their army within four miles, with the view of at once encouraging the besieged and awing us. But they were foiled in both objects, for we, having granted them a truce of eight days, obtained during that interval supplies, which enabled us to renew the assault; and at its termination the town was carried, under their eyes, to their great detriment and disgrace, and to the credit of the Pope, his Majesty, and my illustrious general the Duke, who, on the surrender of the place, went into quarters, winter being at hand, where we are now making all preparations for next year's campaign."[190]

Federigo suffered greatly this summer from an accident which he had met with at San Marino some months before.[*191] While discoursing to those around him on past incidents of his adventurous life, and in particular of his prolonged struggle with Sigismondo Malatesta, to which the surrounding country had been often witness, the wooden balcony whence he surveyed these familiar scenes suddenly broke under his weight, and he was precipitated with its ruins to the ground, fracturing his left ankle and lacerating the leg. His first exclamation was one of gratitude for escaping with his life. Gangrene supervened, in consequence of tight bandaging, and a month elapsed ere he could be carried home; but the wound continued so troublesome, that for a considerable time his surgeons apprehended the limb could only be saved by amputation, and when the Tuscan war opened, he was still entirely dependent upon a litter, being unable to walk or ride. To this circumstance may perhaps be, in part, ascribed the sluggish tactics of that campaign; when it closed, he repaired to the mineral springs of Petriolo, near Radicofani, attended by Maestro Ludovico, a physician, and remained in that bleak sojourn for five months, quitting it to rejoin the army at the end of May. In acknowledgment of his services during the previous year, the King of Naples conferred on him a right to make and export annually five hundred loads of salt from the works of Manfredonia.

Roberto Malatesta was serving under the Duke of Calabria at the surrender of Monte Sansovino, and, having quarrelled with him for sanctioning a sack of that place, he, with a condottiere's easy conscience, transferred his company to the Florentine camp. There, too, were assembled the Duke of Ferrara, the Marquis of Mantua, Costanzo Sforza of Pesaro, Nicolò Vitelli of Città di Castello, Carlo Braccio of Montone. The promise afforded by these names proved, however, illusory; and although a diversion was made by them in June towards Perugia, the spring and summer again passed without notable efforts on either side. This number of independent leaders, serving under no recognised head, embarrassed the allies; and although they obtained some inconsiderable successes near Thrasymene, the other division of their forces sustained a decided check at Poggio Imperiale, in Val d'Elsa, on the 7th of September. The ecclesiastical forces, following up their advantage, laid siege to Certaldo and Poggibonsi, both of which speedily fell. They next attacked Colle, which held out till the 12th of November; its surrender, and the approach of winter, led to a three months' truce, and the troops repaired to quarters. Comines, then resident at Florence as envoy from the French Court, criticises these operations as inert, and considers the Italians as inferior to his countrymen in the attack or defence of fortified places, but admits their superiority in the quartermaster's department, and in commissariat arrangements.

The diary of an eye-witness, Allegretti of Siena, and the Duke of Urbino's despatches to the magistrates of that city, still remaining in its archives, enable us to state some curious facts relating to the then infant art of gunnery.[*192] In the ecclesiastical army, which had, on the whole, some advantage in this campaign, there were five field-pieces, called bombards, distinguished by such startling names as, the Cruel, the Desperate, the Victory, Ruin, None of your Jaw, &c. One of the largest of them is described by Allegretti as consisting of two portions; the tube, which was fully nine feet long, weighing 14,000 pounds, and the tail, half that length, weighing 11,000. It discharged balls of stone, varying from 370 to 380 pounds, and was made by one Pietro of Siena, surnamed Il Campano, from being a bell-founder. In the town of Colle there were three bombards, and during the siege, which lasted six weeks, 1024 shots were fired from both sides.[193] Three of these enormous guns used in the siege belonged to Siena, where the art of casting them was especially followed; and it required above a hundred pairs of buffaloes to drag them up to that city. The Pope and King of Naples had each but one with the army; there were, however, other pieces of artillery, called spingards, cerbottane, and passavolanti; one of the last class is mentioned by Allegretti as about thirteen feet long. The extreme inconvenience of such monstrous engines, in a hilly country, ill supplied with roads, requires no comment.

The following extracts are from Duke Federigo's despatches. On the 14th of July, 1478, he writes to Siena from the camp: "Since the powder for the bombard which you sent me is not fit to be fired, and will not answer the purpose, I pray you to let me have as soon as possible some that will do the business, in order that time may not be lost; and also to send me fine powder, fit for spingards, by mixing which, what we have may be rendered serviceable. And I further pray you to see that the other bombard be forwarded with all speed; for it is impossible to say of what importance these things are, or what honour and advantage will result if this be done with diligence, and how much it will be otherwise if they are delayed."

On the 8th of August he writes from the camp at Castellina: "There being hereabouts great scarcity of stones for the bombard, and the few available ones only to be had with much difficulty, I send your lordships the measure of its height, from which you can have them prepared, since you have its diameter; and I pray you to cause search be made in your stores, or outside the town, if any suitable ones can be had for the said bombard. And I pray your lordships to let me know immediately, that I may send for them without loss of time; and even should they be somewhat large, I shall not object, as I can have them reduced with much less trouble than it would take to have them quarried and prepared, seeing how few here are adapted for that bombard. Lastly, I beseech your lordships to let me have as many hewers as possible."

On the 12th of August, he sends a messenger for two barrels of salt of nitre for refining the powder supplied to him, which "to say the truth, worked badly." Again, on the 18th of November, 1479, when in camp before Colle, he writes: "I inform your lordships that we cannot move from this, because the Marzochesca bombard has not been removed; and I have not had it broken up, because Messer Borghese tells me your lordships wish for it; and the muzzle of the last bombard which burst is still here, for its carriage broke down on the march, as also its serandina, and was left by the way; and thus we are unable to decamp, as I have said. I therefore earnestly beg your lordships, immediately on receipt hereof, to send hither all the Pope's and his Majesty's buffaloes you have, and as many of your own as possible, with such oxen as you can; also all the waggons you have, dismounting the bombards from those which are already laden with them, in order that we may be amply provided. Let other carts be made ready to replace those that may break down, with lots of buffaloes and oxen; and let them be brought hither safely and speedily, for your need and ours: and in God's name, if ever you used diligence do so now, that these carts, buffaloes, and oxen arrive quickly, seeing the Lord Duke [of Calabria] and Messer Lorenzo have already written for theirs in similar terms."

These remonstrances had their effect. On the 20th the camp was raised, the troops dispersing into winter quarters, and so ended this dilatory and unimportant war, marked by devastation rather than by victory, barren of laurels, crowned by no enduring conquest. The two allied leaders repaired to Siena, where they were honourably welcomed, Federigo being lodged in the episcopal palace. In accordance with the custom of that age, a large donation was given to each of them, consisting of calves, wedders, capons, corn, bread, wine, almond-cakes, almonds, ray-fish, pheasants, chickens, pigeons, etc. Many influences favourable to peace were now brought to bear upon the Pontiff; and although his own wishes were for a further humiliation of the Medici, his ally of Naples being tired of a struggle in which no personal interest was at stake, and no trophies had been earned, he could not prevent the offer of a truce. It was eagerly accepted by the Florentines, whose position was one of imminent peril. Long unused to arms, and totally alien to the military spirit of the Peninsula, it was their habitual policy to trust for defence to hired troops. Their merchant families sent forth no martial geniuses, and Lorenzo avoided appearing in the field, for which he felt himself in no way qualified. But on this occasion they were singularly unfortunate in their defenders. Nominally backed by all Upper Italy, they had no effectual aid from Venice, occupied in protecting her mainland from the Turks. The Duke of Ferrara, though titular leader of their motley army, possessed neither talent nor influence to occupy such a position. The other free captains sought their separate interests, and the hereditary feuds of the Braccian and Sforzan companies broke out for the last time, as the remnants of these once famous bands found themselves encamped together. Even after this element of mutiny had been extinguished, by detaching Carlo Braccio and his following on the Perugian expedition, new quarrels arose between the Lords of Ferrara and Mantua, which so disorganised the army that Machiavelli declares it took to flight at Poggio Imperiale on seeing the dust raised by the enemy's approach, abandoning to them camp, baggage, and artillery. But this writer, prejudiced against the whole military system, may be read with some qualification, when he declares its poltroonery to have been such that the turn of a horse's head, or the whisking of his tail, was enough to put it in a panic. Yet, with every allowance, it seems clear that, had the confederates of Lower Italy then marched upon the capital, instead of loitering on the Val d'Elsa, the fondest wishes of Sixtus might have been gratified; and Baldi confers no honour on the Duke of Urbino in claiming for him the credit of successfully thwarting such a proposal, upon no better grounds than that the army was too ill-disciplined to withstand the temptations of success in so attractive an enterprise.

Lorenzo was alive to the delicacy of his position; the finances of his country and his private resources wasted upon useless stipendiaries; the patience of even his partisans exhausted by a mismanaged and unfortunate war. His resolution was magnanimously formed and boldly executed. Early in December he suddenly embarked for Naples to plead for peace, if not for his family at least for his fellow citizens. The fate of Giacopo Piccinino, in 1465, rendered such an appeal to Ferdinand one of chivalrous daring, but it fully succeeded. The gratifying compliments bestowed on Lorenzo were only equalled by his own munificence; and although negotiations were protracted by Ferdinand's cold and unrelenting disposition, and by the intrigues of Sixtus, he was finally successful in removing all difficulties, and in concluding a defensive treaty with Naples, which was proclaimed on the 25th of March. The Pope, unable to maintain the war single-handed, had no option but to accede; it was not, however, until the end of the year that he would grant a formal remission, and the removal of ecclesiastical censures. To obtain this grace, there arrived in Rome in November an embassy of eleven eminent citizens of Florence, who, prostrated in the dust on Advent Sunday in the metropolitan church, confessed their derelictions of duty, and implored pardon. They, however, did not receive absolution until the irate Pontiff had read them a severe rebuke, and had gently applied to the shoulders of each a scourge of penance, whilst they recited the fifty-first penitentiary psalm.[194]

Whilst the Duke of Calabria remained at Siena, nominally to overawe the Florentines, and maintain his recent advantages, but in reality ripening those schemes by which, ever since 1446, the house of Aragon had aimed at establishing their influence in that republic, Federigo, after being entertained at a ball in the Palazzo Pubblico, on the 18th of December, 1479, went to the baths of Viterbo, which had been recommended for his still suffering limb. We owe to Sanzi some notice of his residence in that town, where his numerous suite, and his own graceful and polished address, made a general sensation. It was his delight to receive as guests such personages of distinction as passed that way to Rome. Among these was the Duke of Saxony, who was repairing to the Holy City on a pious pilgrimage with a goodly cortège. To him and his attendants Federigo's courtly demeanour and splendid hospitality were an agreeable surprise: though "barbarians" by birth, they were fully qualified to appreciate such civilities, nor were they allowed to depart without a promise to renew their visit to him at Urbino on their return homewards. His son, Guidobaldo, and his nephew, Ottaviano della Carda, joined in doing the honours to their guest, who was distantly related to them through the Gonzaga family, and they parted with mutual compliments and good wishes. Soon after Christmas, Federigo received from the Pope, by the hands of Pier Felice, his resident at Rome, the Sword and Hat, honours among the highest at his Holiness's disposal, and reserved for sovereigns of tried fidelity and devotion to the papacy, but which seemed on this occasion to acquire new illustration in the person of the recipient. In May he addressed this letter to his allies of Siena:—

Bidding adieu to Viterbo amid the regrets of its inhabitants, the Duke went to meet his daughter the Princess of Salerno; and having greatly suffered from fatigue and pain during the last two years, returned home almost a wreck. He was triumphantly welcomed by his people, and soon after received a visit from Cardinal Giuliano della Rovere, then on his way to France as papal legate. About this time the Ordelaffi of Forlì, making a final effort to maintain themselves against Count Girolamo, appealed to Federigo. But being unable to espouse their part while himself in the papal service, he counselled the last survivor of that race to compromise with Riario by a sale of his rights, and to hope for better days. This having been at length effected, Girolamo and his Countess visited their new principalities, where, notwithstanding the popular dissatisfaction with changes which had extinguished the former dynasties, they speedily so gained all hearts, that Sanzi gravely questions whether Jove himself, if descending upon earth, would have had an equally honourable reception. This may be in some degree attributed to the fickleness of popular opinion, especially in a nation of lively and impressionable character; but there was much to recommend the new-comers. Possessed of ample means, and prodigal in their use, the ambition and political influence of Girolamo promised a long career of advancement and of coming glories for his subjects. Of Caterina, then in her twentieth year, we have this florid description from her biographer Fabio Oliva: "As she issued from her litter, it seemed as if the sun had emerged, so gorgeously beautiful did she appear, laden with silver, and gold, and jewels, but still more striking from her natural charms. Her hair, wreathed in the manner of a coronet, was brighter than the gold with which it was twined. Her forehead of burnished ivory almost reflected the beholders. Her eyes sparkled behind the mantling crimson of her fair cheeks, as morning stars amid those many-tinted lilies which returning dawn scatters along the horizon." In somewhat less inflated language, Ratti, the Sforzan biographer, says: "It would be difficult to find in history any female who so far surpassed her sex, who was so much the amazement of her contemporaries and the marvel of posterity. Endowed with a lofty and masculine spirit, she was born to command; great in peace, valiant in war, beloved by her subjects, dreaded by her foes, admired by foreigners." The features of this siren of her times are supposed to have been commemorated by more than one of those church pictures into which it was then customary to introduce likenesses of the donors and their families, especially the altar-piece of the Torelli Chapel by Marco Palmeggiani, still in the church of S. Girolamo at Forlì, which represents Caterina, her husband, and her two eldest sons kneeling before the enthroned Madonna. Another likeness is given in the preceding page from a rare medallion of the lady of Imola in her more matronly years, whose descendants still subsist in various princely houses, and in the noble family of Riario Sforza at Naples. This much of a heroine who will reappear at intervals in our pages.

The adhesion of Sixtus to the treaty which closed the Tuscan war was partly extorted by his terror of the Turks, whose progress in Europe, as yet, had met with no decided reverse. The energy and skill of Loredano had, indeed, kept them in check during the campaigns of 1474-5, but Venice found herself exhausted by efforts which, although of vital moment to Christianity, she was left to make single-handed. The following year was one of comparative repose, till in 1477, the Infidels, bursting those ramparts along the Isonzo by which the Republic considered her territories secured, scoured the rich plains of Friuli, and burned the mainland palaces of her citizens within sight of the capital. During 1478 Troia fell, and Scutari suffered a long and hopeless siege, whilst Sixtus was wasting in the Tuscan war those energies which, as head of the Church, he might have easily united against the victorious Crescent. After vainly protesting, and threatening the Pontiff with a general council, the Signory, in January, 1479, concluded with Mahomet II. a disastrous peace, at the sacrifice of all their recent conquests in the East.

The Venetians were now justly incensed at the Pope and Ferdinand, who had not only refused them aid in defending Western Europe from Turkish inroads, but had effectually prevented Florence from contributing its contingent for that purpose. With the King there was a further cause of quarrel, as he had concluded a treaty with the Sultan in the spring of 1478, recognising conquests wrested by him from their Republic. Renouncing the tardy and uncertain remedy of a general council, they sought more summary vengeance by inviting Mahomet to invade Lower Italy, and when, after a siege of thirteen days, the Crescent waved over the walls of Otranto, they so successfully diverted suspicions of this anti-Italian policy from themselves to his Holiness, that Ferdinand threatened to throw open to the Infidel a passage to Rome. The panic which now spread throughout Italy, and this imminent peril of the Holy See, at length forced the Pontiff to merge selfish considerations, and to make an effort in the common cause. Bulls exhorting all Christian princes to unity, were followed by diplomatic arrangements with the powers of Italy; and Sismondi is probably correct in ascribing to the terror of this crisis the Pope's tardy absolution of the Medici and their adherents, which we have already mentioned, and which was accompanied with a condition that Florence should send a fleet to the rescue of Otranto.

The dangers impending over his own kingdom occasioned Ferdinand to recall his son from Siena, and to invoke Federigo's services against the Turk. The latter, foreseeing danger from the ambitious energy of Mahomet, had already protested against the King's imprudence in leaving his coasts unprotected, while pursuing schemes of idle ambition in Tuscany; he hastened notwithstanding to obey the summons, but was stopped by an order from Sixtus to guard the ecclesiastical sea-board, menaced by an incursion from Scutari. To his counsels, however, was ascribed the ultimate recovery of Otranto, in order to effect which the Pontiff and Lorenzo de' Medici had hastily united with Ferdinand. Exactly a year after its capture that city was restored by its Moslem garrison, discouraged by the Sultan's death three weeks previously. Yet these events which, by ridding Italy of invasion, and closing the career of her most formidable foe, ought to have been hailed with unalloyed satisfaction, were soon found to infer new dangers, by promoting those internal distractions habitually fermented in the Peninsula during each interval of repose.

---