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:—

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 manoeuvres. 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]

Alberti

PORTRAIT OF LEON BATTISTA ALBERTI

From the relief by Pisanello in the Dreyfus Collection