Katharine S. Macquoid

NICOLO PISANO.

The next morning we took our way up a side turning into the Corso, the handsomest street in Perugia. The shop windows had the day before been made extra gay, to attract the market-sellers; they still showed long strings of cut coral beads.

There is a mass of fine, as well as interesting, fourteenth century building on the left of the Corso: the Collegio del Cambio, and the Palazzo del Pubblico, or, as it is also called, Palazzo Comunale. This has a richly-sculptured doorway, and ends on the Piazza del Duomo; it has quaint iron lamps. On this Piazza, and facing us, we saw the unfinished stone and brick work of the Cathedral, San Lorenzo, with its outside pulpit, from which St. Bernardino preached to the people.

On the left stands the Palace called the Canonica or Seminary, with its cloisters. This belonged to the clergy, and was the dwelling of those Popes who stayed in Perugia during their visits to the city, so greatly beloved and coveted by the Holy See.

THE GREAT FOUNTAIN
PIAZZA DEL DUOMO

In the centre of the Piazza stands the famous fountain usually ascribed to Nicolo Pisano, but said to have been designed by Fra Bevignate, a native of the city. However, the great Pisan sculptor and his son Giovanni made the two large marble basins, and sculptured the panels which decorate them. Nicolo, whose quaint costume is given in the initial, is said to have sculptured the twenty-four statues, now dark with age, but remarkable for the sharpness of their exquisite carving; two of the statues are, however, restorations. The delicate bas-reliefs of the second basin are ascribed to Giovanni Pisano, and are full of variety; the upper basin, with nymphs and lions and the inevitable griffin of Perugia, is supposed to have been cast in bronze by Rossi; water no longer plays from this fountain. It is very beautiful, but it wears a sad and desolate aspect, in perfect harmony with the terrible tragedies which have been so often enacted on this square.

The finest side of the Palazzo Pubblico is that which faces the Cathedral; it has a charming loggia and a grand double flight of steps guarded by the Guelphic lion and the Perugian griffin. There are still traces on this fine old wall showing where the keys of two cities, Siena and Assisi, were hung in chains by the arrogant Perugians, till, in one of the attacks on the city, some mercenary soldiers wrenched them away. The griffin, the quaint emblem of Perugia, is to be found repeated in all the decorative work of the city. The Palazzo Pubblico was built early in the fourteenth century from the design of the Benedictine, Fra Bevignate. The heads of criminals used to be fixed on the steel lances which project from it. When the criminals had been guilty of treason their heads were hung downwards. It was a custom in Perugia to confine criminals in an iron cage hung on this old wall, the miserable creatures being left to starve to death in the cage! The horrible dungeons below can still be seen; they give one some idea of the cruelties enacted in the Middle Ages.

The cathedral of San Lorenzo, on the Piazza del Duomo, is spacious rather than interesting, except for its associations: three Popes who died in Perugia are buried in one tomb in a transept, and in a chapel is preserved the marriage-ring of the Blessed Virgin. We noticed some good wood carving in the stalls.

On the right, beyond the cathedral and its square, is the little Piazza del Papa. On this a bronze statue, vivid green in colour, is raised high on a pedestal. An inscription tells that the statue represents Pope Julius III., and is the work of Vincenzo Danti.

BRONZE STATUE OF
POPE JULIUS III.

The grand old Pope has been sitting enthroned outside the cathedral doors for more than three hundred years, with hand outstretched, in the act of blessing. It almost seems that during these long years the golden sunshine, mingled with the intense blue of the sky, has created the brilliant colour of the bronze, this vivid green which rivals that of the lizards as they dart in and out of the grey old wall behind the Duomo.

Looking at the old Pope under different aspects,—in the sparkle of morning sunshine, in its full meridian glow, or in the gloom that comes to Perugia so swiftly at the heels of day,—one gets to see a different expression in the Pontiff's immovable face.

In the morning it beams on the crowd of crockery sellers, and their wares spread out on the stones around its pedestal, and points proudly to the grand group presented by the fountain and the Palazzo Comunale; at midday the expression is harder; but at eventide a pensive cast comes over the face, more in keeping with the grass-grown street behind the statue, and the ancient grey palaces.

This bronze Pope, Julius III., was not sitting here at the time of the famous preaching of San Bernardino of Siena, on the Piazza del Duomo, when the Perugians flung their grandest vanities into a heap and burned them as a proof of penitence, as the Tuscans did at Florence in the days of Savonarola. This preaching of San Bernardino is commemorated in an old but restored window in the cathedral.

Behind the adjoining Piazza dei Gigli, an open square in front of the Sorbello Palazzo, is a way going steeply upwards to the right; it has bricked steps in the middle, but at the side of these is a long strip of ascending slope, so irregularly paved that it might serve as a specimen pattern of the variously paved streets in the town. Tufts of grass between the stones show that this way is not much used. Its right side is walled by the church of Santa Maria Nuova, and high above it on the left are some quaint houses. This road leads to San Severo, a little chapel containing what is called Raffaelle's first fresco, unhappily very much restored. The view of the country between the houses near it is more interesting than the painting.

This is a very old part of the town; presently, through a tunnel under a low-browed arch, we came out on the Piazza of Monte Sole, surrounded by old palaces. This Piazza marks the summit of one of the two hills on which ancient Perugia was built by the Etruscans; the other hill, Colle Landone, is crowned by Palazzo Donnini, and till the time of wise and valiant Forte Braccio, who, though cruel, seems to have been the best ruler the Perugians can boast of, the valley between these two hills existed.

Forte Braccio caused it to be filled up, and the Piazza Sopra Mura, where the weekly market is held, takes its name from the levelling and sub-structures then effected.

It was from Piazza Monte Sole that the despotic Abbot Monmaggiore fled along the covered way he had made to connect his citadel of Monte Sole with his palaces at Porta San Antonio. On this occasion the nobles joined hands with the citizens against the conspiring French priest, drove the foreigners out of the city, and for the time freed Perugia from the hated Papal yoke.

Going on from the Piazza Monte Sole, a few steps bring us to a tree-shaded terrace with benches placed along it. There is a grand view from the wall that bounds the terrace, and seems to go straight down into the valley. Just below is the red cupola-topped church of Santa Maria Nuova, while the houses of the town lay thickly clustered below. The ancient wall from which we now gaze runs out northward on the right, and on the left goes on till it reaches the famous Etruscan arch near the Piazza Grimani. Beyond are the heights, on one of which stands the convent of San Francesco, outside the extreme northern point marked by the gate of San Angelo; from this we get a glimpse of Subasio. Going out behind the terrace we see the Duomo close by, and soon find our way back to the Corso.

Perugia was never weak; rather she was in all things powerful, and she produced a race of the most renowned Condottieri of Italy, the bloodthirsty Baglioni. Had the brutal nobles and the proud citizens been able to control their passions, and to discipline their ambition; had they been able to behave, in fact, like Christians, Perugia might have held sovereign sway in Umbria.

Instead of this, though nominally governed by the PodestÀ, or chief magistrate and the Priori, she was frequently forced to defend herself against Papal plots and aggression; almost constantly against the tyranny of her rival nobles, and the mischiefs caused by their brawls between themselves, and with the Raspanti, among whom were the richest and most powerful of the citizens.

Through these centuries, from the thirteenth to the sixteenth, the Piazza del Duomo often ran with blood. It was the chief scene of the fierce struggles which make the eventful history of the hill-city; for until the time of Paul the Third, Perugia never entirely submitted to the personal sway of an alien ruler, though she frequently banished both nobles and Raspanti.

There was a short period of comparative peace when, in the fourteenth century, the Condottiere Biordo Michelotti entered the city at the head of the banished Raspanti, and became supreme ruler in the name of the people. Broils were still frequent between the nobles and the plebs, but Biordo was the first of the brigand despots who tried to free Perugia from Papal encroachments.

Warlike, wicked Guidalotti, Abbot of San Pietro, jealously watched the Captain's success, and justly estimated his power; he resolved to end it, and to restore the influence of the Holy See in Perugia.

Biordo, a valiant, hard-working ruler, had asked in marriage the beautiful Lucrezia Orsini, with whom he hoped, now that the city enjoyed comparative quiet, to end his days in peace. The Abbot thought that these bridal festivities would give him the opportunity he sought.

A few days after the marriage the wily priest rode up from San Pietro on horseback to the higher part of the town. He here collected his bravi together, and rode on to Michelotti's palace on Monte Sole. As soon as Michelotti came down to greet his visitor the Abbot put his arm round him and kissed him. At this signal the other ruffians at once attacked the unarmed governor, and killed him with their poisoned daggers.

After Biordo Michelotti, came early in the next century the valiant and wise Forte Braccio, who greatly improved the condition of the city, and repressed licence and disorder. But this brave (though cruel) soldier and sagacious ruler was defeated in battle, and died from the wounds he received. This was a terrible loss; it alarmed the Perugians, for though Forte Braccio was of noble birth, being Conte di Montone, he had protected the city against the outrages of the fierce and brutal Oddi, Baglioni, Corgna, and others. The citizens, in their despair at the loss of their ruler, made overtures to Pope Martin, who received them with open arms.

At this the nobles felt all their power restored; they knew the Pope would side with them against the people, and, quitting their houses in the country around the city, they established themselves in palaces chiefly in the vicinity of Porta Marzia, whence it was easy to overawe the town.

After Forte Braccio's death, one of his soldiers, a singularly brave and capable man, named Nicola Piccinino, tried to wrest supreme power both from the Pope and the nobles. The Perugians suffered terribly, for, while the long struggle lasted, the Pope, the nobles, and Piccinino, who was liked by the people and idolised by the army, all levied taxes on them; Nicola at last ceased his efforts to attain supreme power, and accepted from the Pope the post of Gonfalionere, chief magistrate of the city, in the pontiff's name.

The nobles at this period were left unhindered to brawl as they pleased. The Baglioni, a race of men so renowned for crime, strength, bravery, and beauty, that they recall the heroes of the Iliad, and one wonders whether the old pagans were not better men than those so-called Christians, were always at war with the Oddi, till at last they worsted their rivals, and drove them out of Perugia; then they fell out among themselves. During their last struggle with the Oddi they took possession of the cathedral and fortified it.

After the banishment of the Oddi the power of the Baglioni greatly increased; it became almost supreme. The Pope had given them the lordship of Spello; they also owned Spoleto, and some others of the hill-cities of Umbria. These possessions brought them great wealth. They were cruel and tyrannical despots; they appointed civic officials; it was even said that no legate ventured to visit the city unless he was a friend of the Baglioni.

Towards the close of the fifteenth century some of the poorer and more obscure members of this powerful clan, or, as the old chronicler Matarazzo terms them, "beautiful Baglioni," murmured loudly against their richer kinsfolk. They were just as indolent, just as brutal and licentious, and in proportion to their means fully as arrogant and prodigal. But people were not afraid of them; they had neither wealth to keep bravi with, nor influence to support and further their pretensions. These poor relations could no longer endure their dependent position; they saw that if the sons of the elder house were disposed of, they should have a chance of coming to their own. At present they were completely shadowed by the wealth and haughty self-assertion of their cousins; they also coveted their possessions, and longed to divide them among themselves.

The heads of the Baglione house were the two brothers, Guido and Ridolfo. Guido had five stalwart sons, as much noted for their prowess and heroic bravery, as for their good looks; these were Astorre, Adriano (usually called Morgante, because of his wonderful strength), Marcantonio, Gismondo, and Gentile. Ridolfo's sons were Troilo, Gianpaolo, and Simonetto.

Besides the splendid sons of Guido and Ridolfo, there was yet another very wealthy and distinguished scion of the Baglione family, their young cousin Grifonetto. He was happily married to a young and beautiful wife, and was on friendly terms with all his cousins. His father, Grifone, had died young in battle; his still young and lovely mother, Atalanta Baglione, was extremely rich. She so greatly loved Grifonetto, her only child, that she remained a widow for his sake, and gave up her own home to live with him and his fair young wife, Zenobia Sforza, in the splendid palace he had built near Porta Marzia.

A few years before the end of the fifteenth century, the banished Oddi faction thought fit to attack the city; they rode suddenly in through the gates, and began to strike at the chains stretched across the street for defence against sudden attacks. The first to give the alarm was Simonetto Baglione, a young and beardless youth, who, though of a fierce and cruel nature, was heroically brave. He rushed forth in his shirt, armed only with sword and shield, and held the squadron of advancing Oddi at bay before the barrier that defended the Piazza. Soon ten of his adversaries lay dead at his feet. Till he had killed many more he persevered in attacking the foe with intense fury, until he had received twenty-two wounds. Then his cousin Astorre rode forth to help him. "Go and tend your wounds, Simonetto," he cried, and dashed at the common enemy; a falcon flashed on his gilded helmet, with the griffin's tail sweeping behind it. At once he became a target for the Oddi, their blows fell so thick and fast that each hindered the other from striking truly; nothing could be heard above the din of the strokes made by lances, partizans, crossbow quarries, and other weapons falling on Astorre's body; the sound of those great blows overbore the noise and shouting of the combatants. But the noble Astorre was undismayed by the horrid clamour, he rode his horse into the thickest of the fight, and trampled the Oddi under foot; while his horse, being a most fierce animal, gave the enemy what trouble it could, for so soon as they were jostled and overthrown by his rider, the beast trampled on them. By the time that the other Baglioni heroes sallied forth to help him, Astorre and his war-horse were overdone, they could scarce breathe.

The Oddi were again driven from the city, but a war followed which devastated the fertile country between Perugia and Assisi.

All through these fearful times of strife and bloodshed Art was progressing quietly and surely in Perugia. Raffaelle was at this time working in the atelier of Perugino, and it is thought that he must have witnessed this splendid defence of Astorre Baglione, and that he afterwards reproduced the young warrior, his helmet crowned by a falcon and tail of griffin, in the St. George of the Louvre, and the trampling horseman in the Heliodorus Stanza of the Vatican.

After this achievement the Baglioni seem to have had a short time of family peace. This was soon interrupted. Grifonetto's wealth, the splendid palace in which he lived with his lovely mother and Zenobia Sforza, his beautiful wife, helped to make him, young though he was, the most powerful member of the family. He and his wife dearly loved each other, and the chronicler says, "No wonder, for they were as beautiful as angels." But for evil counsellors, and the restless ambition of the Baglioni, this state of affairs might have lasted. Three of the evil and disappointed relatives clung to Grifonetto like limpets; these were his uncle Filippo, his cousin Carlo Baciglia Baglione, and a scandalously dissolute scoundrel named Jeronimo della Penna or Arciprete. They took counsel together as to how the sons of Guido and Ridolfo Baglione could be easiest put out of the way, so that their wealth and power might be divided among the conspirators. Too poor and of too ill-repute to act alone, they saw that their patron Grifonetto had all they lacked, and they resolved to persuade him to head their conspiracy. At first they strove to win him by the offer of supreme power in Perugia; he could revolt, they said, against the Papal yoke, and become sovereign ruler in the city. Grifonetto was not ambitious; he had all he wanted,—their proposals did not tempt him.

Astorre was about to wed a Roman bride, Lavinia, the daughter of a Colonna father and an Orsini mother, and the malcontent Baglioni decided that this marriage, which was to happen at the end of July, would be a great opportunity for ridding themselves of their hated kindred, as it would assemble every member of the family in Perugia, except Marcantonio, who, being out of health, was taking baths at Naples.

The conspirators took fresh counsel together; the time fixed for the marriage was now close at hand, they must at once win over Grifonetto to their schemes. They therefore told him that Zenobia, the beautiful wife he so adored, was unfaithful to him, with his cousin Gianpaolo, one of the sons of Ridolfo Baglione.

Grifonetto was furious; in his mad jealousy he believed this story, and thirsted for vengeance: he consented to head the conspiracy, and to rid the city of the elder branch of his family by a wholesale murder.

Among the conspirators were Jeronimo della Staffa, three members of the Corgna family and others; only two of those who engaged in this bloodthirsty scheme were over thirty years old.

The Baglioni were chiefly lodged in houses on or near the Porta Marzia; Astorre and his bride, on the night of the murder, were lodged in the beautiful palace of Grifonetto, which was the wonder of Perugia, and always pointed out to strangers as a marvel of magnificence both inside and out. Among his other treasures, Grifonetto possessed a lion; Astorre and Gianpaolo, the sons of Guido and Ridolfo Baglione, each owned one of the royal beasts, and their fearful roaring at night struck terror to the hearts of belated Perugians on their way home.

It had been arranged that as soon as the proposed victims were asleep the signal should be given; this was to be a stone thrown from the loggia of the Magnifico Guido's palace, into the court below.

Banquets, jousts, all kinds of magnificent festivities had gone on for days past. That night a great supper was given, at which the conspirators were present; they appeared to be on the most friendly terms with the others, and were even affectionate and caressing to all,—yet the traitors had decided who was to be the murderer of each victim, and the number of bravi by which each murderer should be accompanied in case of resistance.

At last the time arrived. The victims, heavy with wine, had retired to rest, they slept undisturbed by the roaring of the lions. Then the signal was given; each assassin stood ready at the appointed door. Carlo Baglione, who seems to have been the mainspring of "el gran tradimento," as the chronicler Matarazzo calls it, made first for the sleeping-chamber of the head of the family, the "Magnifico Guido," but he turned aside to that of young Simonetto. Jeronimo della Penna forced open the door of the noble Gismondo; while Grifonetto himself attacked Gianpaolo, Filippo di Braccio and one of the Corgna family unlocked the door of valiant Astorre, who, asleep with his newly-married wife, was thus murderously awakened; the young fellow opened the door, and, seeing his murderers, he guessed the truth. As they attacked him he cried out, "Wretched Astorre, who dies like a coward." His young wife rushed up to him, and flung her arms round him, trying to make her body a shield between him and his assailants, but they had already stabbed him with many more blows than would have sufficed to kill him, and she too received a wound. Then the brutal Filippo di Braccio, seeing how large a wound was in Astorre's breast, thrust in his hand, tore out his heart, and savagely bit it. After this he and his accomplice flung the body of Astorre down the stairs and into the street, where presently the murdered Simonetto lay beside it. He had wakened, and, seeing the murderers kill the companion who lay in his chamber, armed himself, and fought his way through the villainous crowd of bravi, till he reached the foot of the stairs; here fresh assailants despatched him. Simonetto's uncle Guido had also time to snatch up his sword; but, powerful though he was, he was killed.

Grifonetto was less successful than his fellow-conspirators. Gianpaolo, the most daring of the elder branch of the Baglioni, had taken alarm, and so had his squire. But Gianpaolo was sagacious as well as brave, and, not knowing who were his assailants, he bade his squire guard the staircase which led from his chamber to the roof, while he tried to escape over the tops of the other palaces.

The squire fought valiantly, and held his post for some time,—the staircase turned, and gave him a point of vantage over his assailants from below. Gianpaolo reached the roof, and crawled over it till, coming to the skylight of his cousin Grifonetto's palace, he had a mind, in his ignorance as to the conspirators, to seek shelter there; but he gave up the idea, and climbed through a window into another house, owned by one of the citizens; the good man within was so terrified at the sight of Baglione, that, in his fear, he refused to harbour the great noble. Gianpaolo, going back to the roof, found his way into the atelier of some foreign artists, who were also greatly alarmed at his appearance among them. One of them, however, named Achille de la Mandola, seems to have greatly helped the fugitive.

Gianpaolo finally made his way out into the street; and soon after out of the city. Seeing a mule grazing by the wayside, he at once mounted it, though he was greatly disturbed to quit Perugia without having either discovered the meaning of this night attack, or taken vengeance on the unknown assassins. In the meantime day had broken, and Gentile Baglione, who lived some way from his father's house, had been also attacked by the conspirators; he escaped them at once, by mounting his horse and riding away. Just as he reached the bridge beyond the plain, he was amazed to recognise his elder cousin Gianpaolo, riding in the same direction on a mule.

When Atalanta, Grifonetto's beautiful young mother, heard of the tragedy that had been acted so close to her, she rose up, wrapped herself in a large cloak, and, taking with her the two little sons of Gianpaolo and her daughter-in-law, Zenobia Sforza, she quitted her son's house (she loved Grifonetto so dearly that she had always lived with him, having been widowed before she was twenty) and took refuge in her own dwelling on the Colle Landone. She had nothing with her but the cloak she wore, and when she learned in detail the events of the night she solemnly vowed she would never again cross her son's threshold. Grifonetto had quickly repented his crime. His eyes had opened to the wickedness into which his mad jealousy had betrayed him. As soon as he learned his mother's departure he followed her, but he was refused admittance; he, however, forced his way into her presence. She stayed his approach with outstretched hands, and delivered her solemn curse on his guilty head as the murderer of his nearest kindred. The young fellow fled horror-stricken from her presence, but soon returned; he could not find peace, he said, till his beloved, beautiful mother forgave him, and removed the curse she had laid on him.

Atalanta had, however, taken her precautions, and though the unhappy Grifonetto went again and again from his Palazzo to that on the Colle Landone, Atalanta refused to see or listen to him. With the exception of his complicity in this fearful tragedy, Grifonetto seems to have had more human feeling than some of his cousins of the elder branch. His suffering under his mother's curse, and his penitence for his crime, had completely unnerved him. When Gianpaolo, who by the death of his uncle Guido was now the head of the Baglioni, returned to Perugia with the troops he and his brothers had rallied round them, they were met at the city gate by an excited crowd of citizens; for though some of the Perugians still sided with their favourite Grifonetto, the larger portion abhorred his foul treason, and longed to see it avenged. Gianpaolo, seeing the concourse and hearing the cries of welcome, asked graciously that the ladies present in the crowd would be good enough to pray for his success. They did so, and sent out, besides, wine to refresh him and his soldiers after their journey, before they began to revenge themselves on their enemies. Grifonetto had come towards the gate with intent to guard it, gnashing his teeth and weeping, for he had made another attempt to see his mother. He presently met Gianpaolo on the Piazza, where some of the conspirators had already been slain,—Carlo Baglione and Jeronimo della Penna had a narrow escape by climbing the city wall.

Gianpaolo gazed with pitying contempt at his young cousin, who, still overwhelmed with remorse for his share in the unnatural crime, and heart-broken by his mother's curse, was taken aback at thus suddenly meeting his enemy within the city.

Gianpaolo rode up, and, pointing his sword at Grifonetto's throat, cried out; "Farewell, thou traitor Grifonetto; thou art"—Then he added, "Go, in God's name, for I will not kill you; I will not dip my hands in your blood, as you have dipped yours in the blood of your kindred."

He turned away, making a sign to his guards, they fell on the stricken Grifonetto, and wounded him so that his "graceful limbs" could no longer support him; he fell in a pool of blood on the ground. The terrible news was at once carried to his mother Atalanta, and his sorrowful wife Zenobia; they hurried down to the Piazza, and found their dearly loved Grifonetto not yet dead, but bleeding from every wound. His mother fell on her knees beside him; she assured him of her forgiveness, and gave him her blessing in place of the curse she had laid on him. She implored him to pardon his murderers, and to give her a sign that he did so. At this the dying youth clasped the white hand of his young mother, whom he so dearly loved, and, pressing it, he expired. "No words," adds the chronicler, "can paint the grief of the wife who had so dearly loved him, or of the mother who had remained a widow because of her great love for this adored son. At last they rose, stained with the blood that streamed from him, and ordered his body to be carried to the hospital."

By this time Gianpaolo and his troops had returned to the Piazza, bent on taking a complete revenge on the conspirators and all enemies of the Baglione family in Perugia. A fierce battle was fought on the Piazza, and in the cathedral itself, for Gianpaolo had caused a large fire to be kindled before the door, so as to gain access to the interior; even those who took refuge at the high altar were slain there. More than a hundred persons were murdered by Gianpaolo's order; the dead bodies lay where they fell, till the cathedral was bloodstained from one end to the other.

Then the Magnifico Gianpaolo, being now the head of the family, took possession of Grifonetto's palace and of all the Baglione dwellings which, as has been said, were near the Porta Marzia. He gave command that all should be solemnly hung with black, as a token of mourning for the victims of "el gran tradimento,"—a term which Matarazzo constantly repeats. Gianpaolo also gave command that the cathedral of San Lorenzo should be washed with wine from one end to the other, and then re-consecrated, to purge it from the blood shed there during his vengeance on the slayers of his kindred, and on all who were in any way unfriendly to the house of Baglione.

Even Matarazzo, the enthusiastic admirer of Gian,—or, as he frequently calls him, Giovanpaolo,—bursts into lamentation over the continued excesses committed in Perugia till the death of his hero. The chronicler tells us that from the time the Oddi were banished there was no rule in the city, except that of might against right; every man who was powerful enough took the law in his own hands: rapine, murder, plunder, reigned unchecked. When the Popes, aware of the persistent excesses, sent now and again a legate to control and modify disorder, and to restore some amount of security to the dismayed and outraged citizens, the envoys rarely remained long enough to interfere, even if they ventured within the gates of Perugia, lest they should give offence to the Baglioni, and be either stabbed or at best flung out of window.

At last Gianpaolo submitted himself to the power of the Pope, and though the Perugians detested Papal government, they had suffered so severely under the Baglioni tyranny that they hailed the prospect of change, especially as the terms granted them promised moderation.

Leo the Tenth, however, had little faith in Gianpaolo Baglione; he therefore lured him to Rome by sending him a safe-conduct. On his arrival the Pope caused him to be imprisoned in the castle of San Angelo; where he was soon after beheaded.

Gianpaolo's descendants went from bad to worse. They were powerful in other states besides Perugia; captains of Condottieri in Venice, in Florence, also in the States of the Church. One of them, Malatesta Baglione, proved himself a most infamous traitor; he sold himself to Pope Clement VII., and, for his dastardly treason to Florence, was held up to public execration. The last male member of this terrible family died in the middle of the sixteenth century.

With the accession to the popedom of Paul the Third came the deathblow to the freedom of Perugia. He broke all the treaties as to municipal rights and privileges, etc., granted by his predecessors, and built a huge citadel to overawe the town, actually removing one of the Etruscan gates, the Porta Marzia (now restored to its original site), to make room for his tyrannical construction. The military despotism of Pope Paul must have been heartbreaking to a free, proud people like the Perugians.

There seems to have been less bloodshed under the Papal tyranny, but this little incident at its beginning, taken from an old record in the Public Library, was a savage sort of portent:

"While the Duke Pietro Aloigi stayed with his troops in Perugia, to order the new government, Agostino de' Pistoia and Antonio Romano, two of his soldiers, asked the Duke's permission to fight out their quarrel in his presence on the Piazza of Perugia. The Duke gave consent, and ordered that they should fight before the chapel of the Cambio. There, surrounded by the populace, the Duke being at one of the windows of the palace, they fought in their shirts with swords and daggers.

"Both men showed much courage and daring, but at last Agostino, of Pistoia, who was both handsome and tall of stature, fell on the ground dead.

"Victory was at once cried for Antonio Romano, who, by his father's side, was of Perugia; but from the many and grievous wounds the Pistonian had given him, Antonio was considered by many as good as dead, and was carried home by his friends. However, by the great care taken of him, he after a while recovered his strength."