OUR narrative of little interesting campaigns has now brought us to an event unparalleled in the horrors of modern warfare, by which the laws of nature, the dictates of humanity, the principles of civilisation were alike outraged. The sack of Rome inflicted a dire retribution for the restless shuffling that had disgraced the temporal policy of recent pontiffs; it was the crowning mischief to a long agony of ultramontane aggression; and in it was spent one of the last mighty waves of barbarian aggression that broke upon the Italian Peninsula.

Such are the difficulties in the way of a just and satisfactory judgment as to the causes which led to this outrage, that it may be well to review these, even at the risk of some recapitulation. The total demoralisation of Bourbon's army, the want of good understanding between him and other imperial leaders in Italy, the absence of zeal or common interests among the confederate powers and their officials, with the prevailing bad faith of all parties, form a combination of elements baffling to the historian as it must have been to the actors themselves. The petty motives and feeble measures of the Pontiff have already been amply exposed. Francis and the Venetians had originally entered the strife only from selfish views upon Lombardy, which they pursued without attempting any comprehensive or efficient operations, and, as soon as the storm had passed by them, their languor became indifference. Charles cared little for Italy, or the ill-defined claims of the Empire upon it, except as a fair field for aggrandising or securing, by intrigue or by arms, his already exorbitant dominions, and he left his officers there pretty much to their own discretion in the maintenance of his interests. His successive viceroys at Naples, perceiving the policy of Clement to be inherently adverse to their master's interests, were ever ready to annoy his frontier, or to cajole him away from the Lombard league. The Constable, finding that the cautious tactics of the Duke of Urbino kept his own movements in check, and impeded his appeasing with pillage a reckless host whom he could not pay, was ready to adopt any enterprise that might ensure occupation and plunder to his dangerous bands, not doubting that, whoever might suffer, success would justify him with the Emperor, to whose glory it must ultimately redound.

As soon as the Pope had ratified the truce of the 15th March, he, with an infatuation which even an empty treasury can ill excuse, dismissed two thousand of the bande nere who garrisoned Rome. A Swiss corps withdrew at the same time, on his refusal of their monthly pay in advance. When the imperialists drew southward, his chief care was for Florence, and, on hearing of the insurrection there, he sent one of his chamberlains to acknowledge Francesco Maria's good service, adding a vague hope that, in the event of Bourbon threatening Rome, he would contribute counsel and aid for its safety. In reply, the Duke recommended that Viterbo, and Montefiascone should be secured, and Rome suitably defended by Renzo da Ceri and Orazio Baglioni, suggesting that his Holiness might betake himself to the strongholds of Orvieto or Civita Castellana: with these precautions, he added that an early and innocuous conclusion of the inroad would ensue, as the enemy, when shut out from plunder of the towns, must quickly disperse. But these counsels came too late, and, with a foolhardiness and folly savouring of judicial blindness, the Pontiff remained in the comfortable conviction that Bourbon would take up his quarters at Siena, on the representations of Lannoy.[*1] It was only about the 25th that his impending danger first dawned upon him. Rome had then, of regular troops, but two hundred foot and a few light cavalry, besides the Swiss guard, and the only officer of rank was Renzo da Ceri, whose personal courage and military capacity were in equal disrepute, and of whom Clement had on various occasions spoken with contempt. Yet upon this broken reed did he place his sole reliance for the defence of his capital. He commanded the weak points of the walls to be repaired and strictly guarded, distributing the artillery where most required. He pressed above three thousand men into his service; but these hasty levies were of the most useless description, composed of artizans, servants, and the scum of the population, "more used to handle kitchen spits and stable forks than military weapons." Resorting to fanatical expedients, he proclaimed a plenary remission of their sins to such as should fall in the sacred struggle. But the greatest difficulty was to raise money for these purposes: the wealthy classes were so absorbed in egotism and luxury, so deluded by false security, that they would contribute nothing. Domenico de' Massini, one of the richest of them, would lend but a hundred ducats, a refusal for which he and his family paid bitterly in the sack. On the 11th of April, Girolamo Negri, a shrewd observer, wrote that the papal court had become a barn-yard of chickens, and that, though each day gave more manifest signs of evil times, every one relied on the Viceroy's mediation, failing which all would be lost.

At this juncture there appeared in Rome one of those strange fanatics whose mysterious aspect and unearthly character, taking strong hold of the popular imagination at particular crises, impart a supernatural character to their wild and dismal vaticinations. He was an aged anchorite, who, fancying himself another Jonah, had long attracted street audiences by vague declamations of coming convulsions, and, as the peril became imminent, warned the anxious people that a total revolution in church and state, and the ruin of the priesthood, were at hand. Rushing along the thoroughfares, he preached, with piercing voice and excited gesticulation, a general penitence and humble reliance on the offended Deity, as the only shelter from the impending storm. He even forced his way to the presence of his Holiness, and, in the midst of the court, repeated gloomy warnings and stern denunciations in harsh words seldom heard in such high places. "But," in the words of an old writer, "repentance is an irksome sound to the ears of hardened sinners," and "more is required to make a saint than sackcloth raiment, a crucifix, and philippics against vice"; so the prophet was committed to prison, to continue his preaching to a more limited audience. Yet it needed no stretch of superstition to regard the sack of Rome, with its accumulated horrors, as a Divine judgment. The gross vices which disgraced the papacy towards the close of the preceding century had, indeed, been considerably modified; but, as the reformation was rather in decency than in morals, it had not greatly influenced the people of Rome: the poison, though counteracted at the core, continued to circulate through the branches. In truth, the hearts of all were so indurated, and their judgment so blinded by pleasures, debaucheries, avarice, and ambition, that the forebodings of enthusiasts, and the many portentous omens of evil that occurred about the same time, were equally disregarded. Among these were, of course, blood-red suns and fiery meteors; but it was afterwards remembered that two aged men with long beards had been observed to stride solemnly along the chief thoroughfares of the city, bearing a large empty bag, and exclaiming at intervals with dolorous solemnity, "Behold the sack!"[2]

The measures of the government, superficial as they were, generated false security; and a general muster of the citizens which returned thirty thousand as capable of bearing arms, tended to confirm the fatal delusion. The Pope gave currency to it by setting forth on all occasions the reduced state of the imperialist army, the proximity of that of the league, and above all insisted that the invaders, being for the most part Lutherans, were no doubt conducted by Providence, to undergo a signal punishment for their heresies under the very walls of the Christian metropolis. To such a height was this foolhardiness carried, that the messenger, who arrived on the 3rd of May to demand free passage to Naples, was dismissed by Renzo with the threat of a cannon-ball at his head; and on the following day the Datary wrote to Count Guido Rangone, that a reinforcement of six or eight hundred men would suffice for defence of the city. But ere the messenger was well clear of the gate, the enemy were before it.[3]

The inhabitants, at length aroused to their danger by the presence of an army whom they supposed at Siena, were thrown into general panic, though some were so blinded as to suppose it the advanced guard of the confederates. Even now, bold and judicious expedients might have defended the walls until the arrival of the allies, whose first division actually reached the Porta Salara the same day on which the city was taken; and had the bridges been previously cut, as was urged upon Renzo in consideration of the weak defences of the Borgo S. Spirito, the principal portion of the city might have held out, even after these had been carried, whilst the Duke of Urbino would have had leisure to execute signal vengeance upon the ruffian invaders, demoralised by their leader's fall and by the pillage of its Transteverin quarters.

It is by no means easy to form an idea of the actual force of the invading army from the varying estimates that have come down to us. Muratori, who bestowed much attention upon such military statistics, reckons the troops whom Bourbon carried from Milan at about five thousand Spaniards, four thousand Germans, and half as many Italians, besides five hundred men-at-arms, two thousand German cavalry, and an indefinite number of light horse, to whom were soon united the lansquenets of FrÜndesberg, originally fourteen thousand, but already somewhat reduced. This would give a total of twenty-six or twenty-seven thousand men, which exceeds by a few thousand infantry the calculation adopted by Giacomo Buonaparte, his multiplication of the men-at-arms by ten being obviously an accidental error. The same author supposes that the Imperialists who had marched from Montevarchi were about twenty thousand Germans, eight thousand Spaniards, three thousand Italians, with but six hundred horse. The impression current at Rome, and in the confederate camp, that Bourbon brought from forty to fifty thousand men before that city was therefore grossly exaggerated; indeed, some authorities diminish his effective force to half that number, while Buonaparte esteems it under thirty thousand. The allied army, according to Baldi, was twenty thousand strong, of whom one fifth were cavalry: but it, too, had melted away when mustered at Isola, as we shall in due time see. On the whole, it appears that the inequality of numbers was not such as to justify the Fabian tactics, or it may be the petted policy, of Francesco Maria.

On Sunday, the 5th of May, the Constable bivouacked in the meadows north-west of the city, having approached it without crossing the Tiber. He repeated by trumpet his summons in name of the Emperor for free passage to Naples; an idle insult, considering that the way beneath the walls lay open for him. He then explained to a council of his officers the perilous state of affairs,—the troops fatigued, starving, mutinous, with a powerful enemy pressing upon their rear, and the richest metropolis of Europe ill-defended before them, urging that there was no alternative but that night to conquer its effeminate citizens, or next day be cut to pieces by the allied host. But, finding these representations received with cold indifference, he at dusk repeated them to the whole army in an energetic harangue, which he concluded by assuring them he had received, through Cardinal Colonna, assurances of support from the Ghibelline party within the city.

Ere the morrow's dawn his army was in motion, and, under cover of a singularly dense fog, approached the city between the modern gates of Cavallegieri and S. Pancrazio. The wall was there pierced by a loop-hole, serving as the window of a small and slightly built house that formed part of the defences; below it was another aperture into the cellar. These vulnerable points, which had been unpardonably overlooked by the papal engineers, were quickly noticed by the enemy, who brought the few guns they possessed to bear upon them, and soon effected a small breach. The exact site is loosely and contradictorily described as between one of the gates and the tower of S. Spirito, near Cardinal Mellini's, or Ermellini's, garden. Meanwhile the besiegers, protected by the mist from the guns of S. Angelo, vigorously attacked various points; and on the heights above the Strada Giulia, two Spanish colours were wrested from them. The walls and substructions now visible on that side, and those which separate the Lungara from the Borgo S. Spirito, are all of later date; and in constructing them, sixteen years subsequently, the aspect of the localities has been so changed as to baffle accurate comparison with descriptions of the assault. If we can suppose the external wall to have run from near the Porta S. Spirito towards that of S. Pancrazio, instead of being carried, as at present, along the Janicular ridge from the Porta Cavallegieri, it might be comparatively easy to reconcile these statements. At all events, it is certain that considerable resistance was made by some citizens who occupied the Campo Santo or burying ground, which then lay just outside of the gate from S. Spirito into the Lungara, and which, according to a mural inscription there, was removed in 1749 to its present site farther up the hill. This, being the brunt of the battle, was occupied by Bourbon, whose exertions throughout the morning had been unremitting. Whilst steadying a ladder with his left hand, and cheering on his men with his right, he was struck to the ground by a bullet which passed through his thigh. The credit of that lucky shot, which cut short a career commenced in treason, closed in sacrilege, is claimed by Benvenuto Cellini. He tells us that on hieing to the Campo Santo with two comrades, he beheld from the walls the enemy assaulting the spot where they stood; whereupon they discharged their pieces in terror, he aiming at a figure singled out in the mist from its commanding height. Having mustered courage to peep over the wall, he saw a great confusion occasioned by the Constable's fall, and, fleeing with his friends through the cemetery, escaped by St. Peter's to the castle of S. Angelo.[*4] This assertion, which has generally passed for gasconade, receives support from the Vatican MS., wherein the shot is ascribed to some silversmith lads who, from the Mount of the Holy Crucifix, aimed at the general's white mantle and plume; and a monumental tablet outside the Church of S. Spirito commemorates Bernardino Passeri, goldsmith and jeweller to Clement and his two predecessors, who was killed on the 6th of May, on the adjoining part of the Janicular, after slaying many of the enemy, and capturing a standard. About five hundred paces to the west of that reach of the modern city wall which commands the Cavallegieri gate, there stands on the road to the Fornaci a small oratory, called the Capella di Barbone, and pointed out by tradition as the spot where Bourbon was wounded. No account, however, which I have seen, countenances the idea of his having fallen so far away; nor is it possible, even when no mist intervenes, to see either that point, or the site of the present exterior city wall, from the old cemetery of S. Spirito, whence the fatal shot appears to have been aimed. But from whatever spot or hand it proceeded, the wound was mortal, and the Constable died in his thirty-ninth year, ere he could witness the desecration or share the booty to which he had stimulated his followers. Yet had God's just judgment on the traitor been withheld for a time, his influence might, perhaps, have stayed the fury of the soldiery, and Rome might have been spared some portion of the misery that ensued. His body was carried to Gaeta, and his armour is still shown at the Vatican, a plain coat of immense strength. It, however, bears an indentation on the inner side of the right thigh, where the fatal bullet entered after grazing its steel edge.[5]

For a moment his troops wavered, dismayed by their leader's fall; but revenge and a consciousness of their perilous position rendered them desperate. The assertion of Mambrino Roseo, that the Swiss guard disputed every inch of the breach until only a drummer was left alive, wants confirmation from those narratives of eye-witnesses which I have examined. Be this as it may, it was about half-past eight that the first detachment, who had made their way into the Borgo, were observed by Renzo da Ceri. Instead of cutting them down with the body of horse who followed him, he in a loud voice gave the sauve qui peut, and, galloping round by the Ponte Sisto, reached that of S. Angelo, where he recklessly crushed and trod down the citizens, already rushing across it in masses to the castle.[*6] Had this craven caitiff rallied his men to the breach, it might have been repaired; and had he but held the Porta Settimiana, or even now cut the lower bridges, the invaders would have been confined within a small district of the city, until Guido Rangone arrived with succours.

The panic thus originated by the city's defender spread rapidly in all quarters. The Pontiff, who, from his chair in S. Peter's, had been thundering spiritual menaces against the foe, was hurried along the covered passage to S. Angelo, whither also flocked the cardinals, clergy, and citizens of all ranks, in such crowds that it was found impossible to close the gates. At length the portcullis was dropped, with great difficulty from its rusty condition, and several cardinals, who had been excluded, were afterwards drawn up in baskets. The terrified crowd who were thus shut out, rushed to escape by the city gates, but, finding these closed, they dispersed themselves among the palaces of the Ghibelline cardinals, upon which they vainly relied as sure asylums.

About three thousand got into the castle, with fourteen cardinals. It was very ill supplied with provisions, and the neighbouring shops were hurriedly emptied of whatever stores they contained. The Pontiff, in his alarm, would have attempted flight, but Bourbon's death inspired him with some hope of making terms. In fact, the besiegers, who had at first rushed in with cries of "Hurrah for Spain! slay! slay!" soon paused, discouraged by the loss of their leader, and anticipating a desperate resistance. In this state of matters, the Portuguese ambassador was authorised by his Holiness to propose an accommodation to the imperialist chiefs, who, finding themselves in possession of but a fraction of the city, with walls and gates on either side excluding them from the S. Spirito and Trastevere quarters, temporised for some hours. But as the bulk of their army entered at S. Pancrazio, and they ascertained the panic in the town, their misgivings passed away, and about two hours before sunset they suddenly advanced through the Porta Settimiana, in Via Lungara. Encouraged by its defenceless state, they pushed across the Ponte Sisto, which they found equally unguarded, and spread like a deluge over the devoted city.

Now began the horrors of the sack. The brutal soldiery, absolved from discipline, scoured the city at will, penetrating unchallenged into the most secret and most sacred places.[*7] Churches and convents, palaces and houses, were invaded and rifled; resistance was punished with fire and sword; rape and murder were the fate of the inhabitants. Passing over details too revolting for the imagination to supply, but too repulsive for a place in these pages, we may cite the feeling exclamations of one who seems to have witnessed them:—"Alas! how many courtiers, gentlemen, and prelates, how many devout nuns, matrons, and maidens became a prey to these savages! What chalices, images, crucifixes, vessels of silver and gold, were torn from the altars by these sacrilegious hands! What holy relics were dashed to the ground with derisive blasphemy by these brutal Lutherans! The heads of Saints Peter, Paul, Andrew, and of many others, the wood of the sacred Cross, the blessed oil, and the sacramental wafers, were ruthlessly trodden upon. The streets exhibited heaps of rich furniture, vestments, and plate, all the wealth and splendour of the Roman court, pillaged by the basest ruffians."[8]

After these miserable scenes had endured for three days, rumours of the Duke of Urbino's approach recalled the imperialist leaders to the necessity of defence.[*9] The command having devolved upon the Prince of Orange, a yellow-haired barbarian, further plunder was prohibited, under severe penalties; and the army, reduced to comparative order, betook themselves to enjoy their booty. But now a new drama of atrocities opened. The Germans had especially distinguished themselves by a thirst for blood, but the wily Spaniards taught them a means more effectual than murder of enriching themselves and punishing their victims. The prisoners had, in most cases, concealed whatever of greatest value they possessed, and recourse was had to every variety of torment in order to extract from them supposed treasures, and a ransom for their lives; so that those who had been spared in seeming mercy found themselves but reserved for a worse fate. After stripes and blows had been exhausted, when hunger and thirst had failed to force compliance, tortures the most brutal succeeded. Some were suspended naked from their own windows by a sensitive limb, or swung head downwards, and momentarily threatened to be let drop into the street. Others had their teeth drawn slowly and singly, or were compelled to swallow their own mutilated and roasted members. Others were forced to perform the most odious and menial services; and the greatest extremities were always used towards those who were suspected of being the most wealthy and noble. Even after the desired amount of gold had been thus extorted from them, their sufferings were sometimes resumed at the instance of new tormentors. When such cruelties palled, their inflictors had recourse to a novel amusement, by forcing from the victims a confession of their sins; and we are assured by the narrator of these enormities, himself a Roman, that the iniquities thus brought to light, as habitual in that dissolute capital, were such as to confound even the licentious soldiery of Bourbon. Over the outrages committed upon the women we draw a veil: when lust was satiated, they were prolonged in diabolical punishment, the husbands and fathers being compulsory witnesses to such unspeakable atrocities.

But the delight of these sacrilegious villains, especially of the German Lutherans, was to outrage everything holy. The churches and chapels, including the now bloodstained St. Peter's, were desecrated into stables, taverns, or brothels; and the choirs, whence no sounds had breathed but the elevating chant of prayer and praise, rang with base ribaldry and blasphemous imprecations. The grand creations of religious art were wantonly insulted or damaged; the reliquaries and miraculous images were pillaged or defaced. Nay, a poor priest was inhumanly murdered for his firm refusal to administer the blessed sacrament to an ass. Nor was any respect paid to persons or party feelings. The subjects of the Emperor who happened to be in Rome, the adherents of the Colonna and other Ghibelline leaders, were all involved in the general fate. Four cardinals attached to that faction had declined entering S. Angelo, calculating that they would not only

"Guide the whirlwind and direct the storm,"

but peradventure, promote their own interests in the mÊlÉe. They were, however, miserably mistaken, for they, too, were held to ransom; and one of them (Aracoeli), after being often led through the streets tied on a donkey, behind a common soldier, was carried to church with mock funereal rites, when the office of the dead was read over his living body, and an oration pronounced, wherein, for eulogy, were loathsomely related all the real or alleged immoralities of his past life. Another outrage in especial repute with the Germans, was a ribald procession, in which some low buffoon in sacred vestments was borne shoulder-high, scattering mock benedictions among the mob, amid shouts of "Long live Luther!"

A great portion of the circulating wealth of the city was centred in the Strada de' Banchi, which, from being in a line with the castle and just across the river, was considered comparatively secure. But this fallacious hope quickly vanished, and during five hours that quarter of bankers, merchants, and jewellers was savagely sacked in sight of the papal court. In one of these shops a large money bag being discovered, a general scramble ensued for its contents, and forty-two of the soldiery lost their lives at their comrades' hands, fighting for what proved to be counterfeit coin. The Jews, who were not then enclosed in the Ghetto, suffered a full share of such miseries, to make them disgorge their secret treasures. Vast multitudes of citizens took refuge in the palaces of the cardinals and principal nobility, especially of those supposed to be friendly to the imperial interests; but these asylums were seldom respected. That of the Cancelleria, originally built by Cardinal Pietro Riario, and still one of the most spacious in the capital, was long spared; but on the 20th of May its turn came; and as it was the last to be pillaged, the outrages perpetrated upon its miserable inmates, including numerous ecclesiastical and diplomatic dignitaries, with a crowd of the high-born beauties of Rome, were perhaps the most signal and sanguinary of all. In other palaces the fugitives, though spared from violence, were held to ransom. The Dowager Marchioness of Mantua purchased immunity for her residence with 10,000 ducats, which the merchants whom it sheltered joined in paying, and which her son Ferdinando, one of the imperial leaders, was said to have basely shared. In the Vatican MS. is a backbond, signed by about five hundred persons, who had sought refuge in the palace of Cardinal Andrea della Valle, obliging themselves to repay, in sums varying from 10 to 4000 scudi each, the ransom of 40,000 ducats which he had advanced. Among the names is the King of Cyprus, and, what may have more interest for us, that of Peter Hustan from Scotland. The English Cardinal of St. Cecilia, Thomas Usher, Archbishop of York, was one of those who escaped into the castle.

But where, meanwhile, was the army of the League?[*10] The Duke of Urbino, after quelling the insurrection at Florence, had lingered there for some days at the instance of the Cardinal Legate, who represented to him that Rome was amply provided with means of defence. Yet, upon learning Bourbon's advance, the confederates despatched Guido Rangone from Incisa, where their army lay, to anticipate by forced marches his arrival at that capital. Taking five thousand light infantry of the bande nere, with a large force of cavalry, he pushed on, and at Otricoli met the Datary's foolish missive of the 4th of May, which, declining further relief, asked for but a few hundred troops as enough for the wants of the city. The Count, however, paid no attention to this news, and, hurrying across the Campagna, heard near the Ponte Salara that the enemy had that morning penetrated the walls. Had he but known the real state of the army, or by a headlong dash risked his all in the noble enterprise, his name would have been honoured as the saviour of Rome. But his genius was unequal to the opportunity, and he retired to Otricoli to await the arrival of his chiefs.

The Duke at length aroused himself, and moved rapidly forwards. On the 3rd he quitted Florence, and at Cortona separated the army into two divisions for facilitating the commissariat. One he led by Perugia, the other, under Saluzzo, took the Val di Chiana, with a common rendezvous at Orvieto.[*11] He was at the lake of Thrasimene on the day Rome fell, and arrested his march at Perugia to effect once more a revolution there, by substituting his friend Orazio Baglioni for Gentile, a partisan of the Medici. Santori justly observes, that "in the Duke of Urbino the desire of avenging old injuries was suspected to have prevailed over zeal for the honour of Italy and the safety of Rome": indeed, this ill-timed gratification of an old grudge cost several precious days. On the 9th, his advanced guard were met at Casalino on the Tiber by a fugitive from Rome with news of the fall of that city, and again halted. Thus it was the 16th ere he joined the other division of the army at Orvieto, where it had preceded him by five days, and whence, after cruelly sacking CittÀ della Pieve, which refused supplies, he sent on a strong party of two thousand foot and five hundred horse to carry off the Pope. It was commanded by Federigo da Bozzolo, whose gallantry well qualified him for such an attempt; but his horse having unfortunately fallen upon him near Viterbo, disabling him entirely, the command of the expedition devolved upon a subaltern, who, finding it daylight ere he came in sight of S. Angelo, and his orders being for a night attack, retraced his steps without communicating with the castle.

Three days were now passed in consultations among the leaders, of which we have varying accounts. Guicciardini of course represents them in the most unfavourable light for Francesco Maria.[*12] He tells us that neither the letters of the Pontiff, nor the entreaties of the Proveditori and the French general, could rouse the Duke's stubborn nature to active measures; and he describes him as full of zeal in words and proposals, but ever interposing obstacles to the execution of any definite plan. On the other hand, Baldi asserts that an onward movement, suggested by the Duke at Isola,[*13] was, to his great regret, overruled by these authorities, and by Guicciardini himself; whilst the Bishop of Cagli[14] pleads as his excuse for inaction, that the Venetians, finding their duty very different from field-days and muster-rolls, refused to follow him, and even retired home in great numbers. But, assuming the truth of the last averment, should not the blame of such lax discipline attach to the general who had led these troops through several campaigns? and may not the moral paralysis which impeded effective tactics in the army be fairly adduced in mitigation of their unauthorised furloughs?

At length an advance was agreed upon, and on the 20th the head-quarters were at Isola di Farnese, nine miles from Rome, the Duke having marched by Nepi, and Saluzzo by Bracciano. Here distracted counsels again prevailed, and, in answer to urgent representations of his confederates, that the Pope must at all hazards be relieved, Francesco Maria ordered a muster of the army, which showed twelve to fifteen thousand men. Letters to the same purpose arriving from the Signory, and a message declaring that Clement had broken off a negotiation with his oppressors on the strength of speedy assistance, he at length consented that Rangone should once more attempt to bring off his Holiness, by leading a division to Monte Mario, whilst he advanced to his support with the main body as far as Tre Capanne. But on pretext of making a previous examination of the ground, he wasted so much time, that night had fallen when they reached that place; and the expedition being thereby delayed until morning, a general feeling then prevailed that the force was inadequate, and the troops were thereupon withdrawn. An even less creditable version of this evolution is given by an eye-witness in the Duke's service, who attributes as its motive the seizure of a quantity of booty, which had been removed from Rome to Monte Rotondo; adding that, on seeing signal fires over the Campagna, and hearing a vague rumour that the enemy were approaching in force, the Duke suddenly faced about and regained his quarters, his men in sad plight, and the rear stripped to their shirts by some skirmishers.[15]

In order to cut short such discreditable scenes, the Duke, at a council of war, announced his resolution to attempt no offensive operations until his army should be recruited by fifteen thousand Swiss, some ten thousand other troops, and forty pieces of cannon, with ample funds for their pay; adding that, as S. Angelo was provisioned for three months, there would be sufficient time for raising these reinforcements. This opinion he embodied in a memorial, which he sent on the 30th from Isola, by the Bishop of Asti, to Francis I. It is preserved by Baldi, and in Sermonetta's Letters, and offers a verbose, laboured, and inconclusive defence of his drivelling tactics. The burden of it is the inferiority of the allied force to the enemy, the probable failure of aggressive movements, and an urgent appeal that the King should come in person, as the only means of giving unanimity to a council in which each desired to lead. Indeed, the whole proceedings of the army attest the mutual jealousies and disunion of its leaders, which form the best justification of the Duke's dilatory measures, amid difficulties which he had not energy or decision to overcome.

The Pontiff, thus abandoned to his fate, learned by bitter experience,

On the 18th he wrote to the Duke of Urbino, "amid these calamities and perils," begging a safe-conduct for a messenger as far as Siena, to induce Lannoy to repair to Rome, the envoy selected for this mission being Bernardo, father of Torquato Tasso. The Viceroy willingly responded to this summons, hoping to succeed Bourbon in command of the imperialists. But finding the Prince of Orange already chosen by the army to that post, he in disgust kept aloof from the capitulation, which was signed on the 5th of June, by the intervention of Gattinara. Its principal stipulations were these: 1. A safe-conduct to Naples for his Holiness, and such of the cardinals as chose to go, upon payment of 150,000 golden scudi, two thirds whereof within six days, the remainder on the expiry of twenty. 2. Security for the personal property within the castle, upon payment of as much more, for which hostages were to be given until it could be raised by a general impost or otherwise. 3. The removal of all censures from the Colonna, and their restoration to their estates and dignities. 4. The immediate surrender of S. Angelo, Civita Vecchia, Ostia, and Civita Castellana, with the further cession of Parma, Piacenza, and Modena to the Emperor, as an inducement for the army to evacuate Rome. This treaty was signed by nine cardinals, four bishops, and eighteen imperialist officers, and the castle was forthwith consigned to a guard of the invaders, in whose hands the Pontiff and his court remained virtually prisoners.[16]

But many difficulties impeded completion of the remaining conditions. The amount of ransom seems under various pretexts to have been considerably advanced, and is set down by most writers at 400,000 scudi. In order to raise this sum, all the church-plate, which had been saved in the fortress, was hastily coined into specie, and three scarlet hats were set up to sale. Two of them were at once secured for 160,000 scudi by the Venetians, ambitious of influence in the conclave. The third was bought for a creature of Pompeo Colonna, whose personal hostility to Clement had become somewhat mitigated by grief for the sufferings he had brought upon the city, and who, in a pathetic audience with his master, obtained his forgiveness and benediction. Still, a large balance of the besiegers' demands remained undischarged, and the stipulation regarding the fortresses was nullified, Civita Castellana being in the hands of the allies, and Ostia occupied by Andrea Doria, neither of whom would acknowledge the capitulation. Parma and Piacenza were also held for the Church, in consequence, as was suspected, of instructions secretly transmitted by Clement. In the hope of obtaining better terms, his Holiness successively directed more than one member of the Sacred College to proceed as legate to Charles, among whom was Cardinal Farnese, his successor on the papal throne; but none of them would execute the commission.

Meanwhile the miseries of the city were fearfully aggravated. The terrified peasantry having ceased to carry supplies where they were sure of misusage, scarcity was succeeded by famine; and the sewers, choked with bodies and abandoned to neglect, engendered a deadly epidemic, called by Muratori, the murrain, which spared neither friend nor foe. In August, the pestilence increased to a terrific degree; and the invading army being reduced by long licence to an undisciplined horde, portions of it rushed in masses from the city of the plague. Some of these bands, after attempting to hang the Pope's hostages, fled towards Terni and Spoleto, sacking the towns on their way, until cut to pieces by the confederates. Nor was the Pontiff exempt from scenes of suffering. Asses' flesh was served at his table; and a greengrocer's wife was hanged before S. Angelo, for dropping into the trenches a few salad leaves for his use. The contagion spread so rapidly in the castle, that the invaders, fearing their prey might slip from their grasp by death, removed his Holiness for some weeks to the Vatican Belvidere, until the scourge had abated.

Lannoy, having fallen a victim to the disease, was succeeded as viceroy by Ugo da Moncada, from whose mercy Clement knew he had nothing to expect, and whom Santori characterises as "an experienced, clever, and sagacious man of the world, devoid of religion, full of fraud, and no observer of his word." He arrived on the 31st of October, in order to effect some new arrangement, when the Pope purchased by further large sums an exemption from several of the former stipulations, in particular from putting himself and his cardinals into his enemy's hands by going to Naples.[17] To raise this fresh imposition, four more hats were thrown upon the market, and were purchased by adherents of the Emperor. At length, after many delays, the 9th of December was fixed for his liberation from a seven months' virtual captivity; but, distrusting every one, he escaped in disguise the previous night. Concealing his face and beard under an old slouch hat and cloak, and laden with baskets and bags, he passed the sentinels of S. Angelo as a pedlar or menial servant. At a secret postern in the Vatican garden, he found a fleet horse, with a single attendant, supposed to have been provided by Cardinal Colonna, and, riding all night by Celano and Baccano, after a short repose at Capranica, he reached Orvieto, which he had some days before fixed upon as an interim residence.

The diplomatic relations of the Holy See at Madrid were at this juncture in the hands of Count Castiglione, with whom we have formerly become acquainted in the service of Dukes Guidobaldo and Francesco Maria, and whom we last noticed as agent for the Marquis of Mantua at the Roman court in 1522, where he was again sent in the same capacity on the election of Clement VII. The position of the new Pontiff soon became one of great delicacy, and already were those difficulties closing around him, which, during his reign, completed the first great breach in the Romish church, and consummated the mischiefs of foreign invasion in the Peninsula. The struggle for universal dominion of those youthful rivals who occupied the thrones of France and the Empire, was convulsing civilised Europe, and Italy was obviously fated to become the permanent prey of the victor. In these circumstances, a character so deficient in energy and decision was singularly inadequate to cope with the necessities of the times; and Clement's influence at Florence, far from affording a prop to the tottering papacy, tended yet more to distract his irresolute purpose. Falling back upon the usual expedient of small minds, he adopted a neutral attitude between the two contending potentates: but the days were past when Pontiffs could grasp the balance of power, or curb a dangerous ascendancy; and Clement's views aimed not beyond siding with a momentary victor. To carry out such policy fine diplomacy was requisite, and Castiglione was selected to watch the interests of Rome at the Spanish court. In the autumn of 1524, he accepted this Nunziatura, to which was joined the lucrative collectorship of Spain; and after visiting the shrine of Loreto, he reached Madrid in the following March.

His negotiations for the next four years embraced the politics of Europe, to which those of Italy were but an episode. We cannot interrupt the thread of our narrative to notice them: a sketch of their progress, in No. IV. of the Appendix, may afford some idea of the difficulties of Castiglione's position, as the medium of communication between a master who, leaving him habitually without information, recalled his most momentous instructions after they had been acted upon, and a monarch whose public measures were in uniform contradiction to his private assurances. That diplomacy so conducted should have issued in disgrace to Clement, ruin to Rome, and a broken heart to Count Baldassare, can excite no astonishment; but the ambassador merits our pity rather than our blame. Indeed its complicated intrigues may well drive the historian and the critic to despair. Incidents, which, although attended by important consequences, seem sudden and unlooked for, might, upon more accurate scrutiny, be detected as results long aimed at, and patiently wrought out. Thus, some documents lately published by Lanz[18] prove that Charles, although disposed to yield much for a satisfactory accommodation with Clement, had authorised Moncada, early in the summer of 1526, to concert with Cardinal Pompeo Colonna a series of domestic insurrections, in order to embarrass his Holiness into a disposition for peace, the issue of which machinations we have seen in the first sack of Rome.

Although the acts of Charles and his generals during 1526-7 were uniformly and aggravatingly hostile to Clement, and prejudicial to the papacy, they must be regarded as in some measure forced upon him by the shuffling of his Holiness. His own position and prospects were not then by any means so secure as to render redundant the support still carried by the influence of the Keys; and the cherished aim of his manhood, which would have united Western Europe in one faith and under one sway, had not yet been abandoned as a fitful dream. By keeping in view these peculiarities in his situation, we may in some measure reconcile the obvious contradictions between his professions and his policy—between his language to Castiglione and the conduct of Bourbon; and we may appreciate in their true sense such apparently fulsome and false expressions as he thus addressed to Clement, on the 18th of September, 1526:—"And since God has constituted us two as mighty luminaries, it behoves us to endeavour that the globe should be enlightened by us, and to see that no eclipse occur through our differences; let us, then, take counsel together for the general weal, for repressing barbarian inroads, and restraining sectarian error." At a moment when the eastern frontier of the empire had been broken down by the victorious Crescent; when the crowns of Hungary and Bohemia were tottering on his brother's brow; and when, as he writes in 1526, the wars of Italy had extracted every ducat from his treasury, we may well suppose how sincere was his wish for a settlement of those protracted struggles within the Alps, and for a union of interests with the Holy See. That his measures little accorded with that object, and nowise tended to bring it about, arose less from want of sincere intention than from an ill-judged mixture of good words and hard blows, partly dictated by his own deficient judgment, partly by the misapprehension of his officers. Though therefore the pillage of Rome by the Colonna was a natural consequence of his own intrigues, the regret he expressed to the Pontiff that his people had been driven to it ["que l'on ait donnÉ l'occasion À mes gens que tel dÉsastre soit advenu"] was, no doubt, his real feeling.

Charles V.

Anderson

THE EMPEROR CHARLES V.

From the picture by Titian in the Prado Gallery, Madrid