The Family is founded.—But finds it very difficult to stand on its Foundations.—Life in Rome during an Interregnum.—Magnificent Prince short of Cash.—Our Heroine's Claims to that Title.—A Night Ride to ForlÌ, and its Results.—An Accident to which splendid Princes are liable.

Yet, to a certain extent, Sixtus had done his work and attained the desire of his heart. The "family" was founded, though not with all the splendour and all the guarantees for durability which he so ardently wished. The poor Franciscan monk's long studious vigils in his lonely cell, unquenchable ambition, hard upward struggle, patient self-denial in the acquirement of the reputation that was to be his ladder, and audacious spurning of that ladder when the height was won, had obtained the desired reward. The name of Riario was written among those of the princes of Italy. And all those deep theological readings, so well and earnestly pursued as to have made this poor friar the "greatest theologian of the day," "profound casuist," confessor, doctor, general of all Franciscans, and finally, apostolically chosen head of all Christ's Church, never led him to doubt the adequacy of such reward in return for a soul smirched, and moral nature degraded! Well! we must not attempt to weigh in our nineteenth-century atmosphere the deeds done, and still less, the thoughts conceived in the grosser fifteenth-century air, or presume to judge even a pernicious Pope. But for his "theology," his science of God.... I think that there are some materials here for forming a judgment of that.

The "noble" family had got founded. From base-born father and base-born mother, very unexceptionably legitimate and "noble," princes had been born by due application of properly paid sacerdotal rites at proper times and seasons. Strange to think of! And now the business in hand was only to keep what had been gained, to "defend our legitimate position, and the birthright of our children." And that holding our own without an apostolic uncle, may be more difficult than was the making it our own with that assistance.

In truth, the difference between the position of Girolamo and his wife, as long as the breath of life lingered in the nostrils of the terrible old man, and that which it became the instant that breath had departed was tremendous. The fall was a stunning one.

But Catherine was not stunned. Though alone in Rome at that critical moment—for Girolamo was with the troops engaged in driving the Colonnas out of their fastnesses in the neighbourhood of the city—she showed herself, on this her first meeting with difficulty and danger, as promptly energetic and as equal to the emergency as she did on many a subsequent not less trying occasion. Anticipating the more tardy action of the Sacred College, now the only existing authority in Rome, she threw herself into the Castle of St. Angelo, and taking possession of it in the name of her husband, as Commander of the Forces, found there a safe asylum for herself and children, during the first outburst of anarchy that followed the Pontiff's death.

The step was by no means a stronger one than the necessities of the case required. When Girolamo returned to Rome on the 14th, he found his home a ruin. The state of Rome was like that of a city given up to pillage. The streets were filled with citizens carrying property of all sorts hither and thither, in the endeavour to find some comparatively safe place of stowage for it. Those who had just sacked the houses of others were as much at a loss to preserve their plunder as the more legitimate owners were to save their property. All who were in any wise connected with the Riarii were of course more especially exposed to danger. The large magazines belonging to a certain Giovanni Battista Pallavicini, a brother-in-law of Count Girolamo, which had for several years escaped, by fraudulent connivance, from all visits of the tax-gatherer, were utterly gutted. The mob found in them, we are specially told,[111] all the wax intended for the obsequies of the Pontiff, a large quantity of alum, and much quicksilver. The Genoese merchants, of whom there were many at Rome, were particularly obnoxious to the mob, as countrymen of the deceased Pope. But little property of value was found in the Count's palace. We have seen it all prudently packed off in time to ForlÌ. But the mob revenged themselves for their disappointment by almost destroying the house itself. Marble doorways and window-cases were wrenched from the walls, and carried off. What could not be removed was destroyed. The green-houses, and even the trees in the gardens, were utterly devastated. One mob rushed out of the city to a farm belonging to the Count in the neighbourhood, and there made booty of a hundred cows, as many goats, and a great number of pigs, asses, geese, and poultry, which belonged, says Infessura, to the Countess. Other indications of our heroine's good house-keeping were found in enormous stores of salt meat, round Parma cheeses, and very large quantities of Greek wine. The huge granaries, also, from which Sixtus had derived so unrighteous a gain, fell, of course, an easy prey to the plunderers.

By the 22nd of August the Sacred College had succeeded in some degree in restoring Rome to a condition of not more than usual disorder. On that day Girolamo formally undertook to give up into the hands of the Cardinals, the castle and all the fortresses of the Church—but not till they had consented to discharge his little bill of 4000 ducats for arrears of pay as General of the forces.

It would seem, however, as if his active and energetic partner had conceived at the last moment some idea of maintaining her position in St. Angelo contrary to her husband's undertaking—probably until the result of the coming election should be ascertained. For the College was informed, that during the night between the 24th and the 25th, which had been fixed for the handing over of the fortress, a hundred and fifty armed men had been quietly marched into it. The Cardinals were exceedingly indignant at this breach of good faith. It must be concluded, however, that Catherine, strong-hearted as she was, did not find herself sufficiently strong for the contest she clearly seems to have meditated. For Infessura concludes the incident by saying that "the Cardinals, nevertheless, took care that the Countess with all her family, and with the said hundred and fifty men at arms, should evacuate the Castle on the 25th," as had been stipulated.

Accordingly, on that day, she and Girolamo left Rome, and arrived at ForlÌ on the 4th of September.

On the 29th, while they were still on their journey, Cardinal Cibo was created Pope by the name of Innocent VIII.

The news of this election was most important and most welcome to the sovereigns of ForlÌ; for Innocent VIII. had been most materially assisted in his elevation by the two Riario Cardinals, one the cousin and the other the nephew of Girolamo. Infessura lets us into quite enough of the secrets of the Conclave which elected Innocent VIII., to make it clear how grossly simoniacal was their choice—an affair of unblushing bargain and barter altogether. And it may be safely concluded that Girolamo and his fortunes were not forgotten in the agreement for the price of the voices of the Cardinals his kinsmen.

Accordingly, on the fourth day after their arrival at ForlÌ, arrived three documents, executed in due form: the first recognising and confirming the Count's investiture, with the principalities of ForlÌ and Imola; the second continuing his appointment as General of the Apostolic forces; and the third dispensing with the residence in Rome which his office in usual course entailed.[112]

Notwithstanding these great points gained, the position of Girolamo and Catherine was a difficult one, and very different indeed from what it had been at the period of their last arrival in their capital. On this occasion we hear nothing of festal processions and olive branches, of balls, tournaments, or speechifications. The Forlivesi, doubtless, already appreciated by anticipation the great difference, soon to be more vividly brought home to them, between belonging to an enormously wealthy Papal favourite, who had the means of freely spending among them a portion of the immense revenues derived from sources which in no way wrung their withers, and being the subjects of a needy prince, who expected to draw from them the principal part of his income.

Besides, the abortive attempts to increase his possessions, which had formed the leading object of his life for the last eight years, had most materially contributed to increase the difficulties of holding what he had acquired under his present changed circumstances. Lorenzo de' Medici, at Florence, whom he had failed to assassinate, Hercules d'Este, at Ferrara, whom he had failed to drive from his dukedom by force, and the Venetians whom Sixtus had suddenly jilted the year before to ally himself with their enemies, and had then excommunicated, were none of them likely to be very cordial or safe neighbours, and were not unlikely to lend a favourable ear, and, under the rose, a helping hand to those persevering Ordelaffi youths, who were always in search of some such means of recovering the heritage of their ancestors.

Thus the four years following the death of Sixtus were little else for Girolamo and Catherine, than a period of continually increasing difficulty and struggle. To the sources of trouble indicated above Girolamo soon added by his imprudence another, which in the sequel led to consequences still more fatal. At the time of the Pope's death he had, as may easily be imagined from some little indications we have had of his theory and practice of administration of the Papal affairs, a very considerable sum of ready money in his hands. But for the last thirteen years of his life his command of resources had been practically almost unlimited; and he was wholly unused to the necessity of abstaining from what he wished on account of considerations of cost. He was a man of magnificent and expensive tastes; and like his apostolic kinsman, had especially that, most fatal to the pocket, of building. At the same time, the extremely distressed state of the people of his principalities at the period of his second arrival among them from Rome, arising from the war and the consequently neglected state of industry and agriculture, made it absolutely necessary to do something for their relief. Girolamo remitted the tax on meat; and at the same time launched out into great and costly building enterprises.

Besides enlarging and beautifying their own residence, and raising the fine vaulting of the cathedral, which still remains to testify to the skill of the builders and the ungrudging orders of their employers, the Count and Countess completed the fortress of Ravaldino[113] on a greatly increased scale of magnificence and cost. It was now made capable of accommodating 2000 men-at-arms, besides containing magnificent apartments for their own dwelling in case of need, immense storehouses of all sorts, and last, though very far from least in importance, ample prisons. Then, again, there were certain ugly Pazzi and Colonna reminiscences, which made it only common prudence to invest a considerable sum in building a convent or two, considering, as our modern insurance offices remind us, the uncertainty of life. So a Franciscan cloister, and a nunnery of Santa Maria were built "con incredible spesa," says Burriel. The former tumbled down when just finished, and had to be built a second time. Let us hope, that the catastrophe was not due to any unhandsome attempt at palming off cheap work on "the recording angel."

All these various sources of expenditure in a short time reduced the Count from being a rich man, to the condition of a poor and embarrassed one. This led him to the re-imposition of the taxes he had taken off. And the latter step led to the very unpleasant results indeed, which the sequel of the present chapter has to tell.

In the meantime Catherine presented her husband with three other sons. Her fourth child, and third son, was born on the 30th of October, 1484, and named Giorgio Livio. A fourth was born on the 18th of December, 1485; and a fifth on the 17th of August, 1487. The second of these was christened Galeazzo, after Catherine's father; and it is worth noticing, that one of the child's sponsors at the baptismal font was the envoy sent to the court of ForlÌ by Lorenzo de' Medici. Now, we have abundant evidence that the feelings of Lorenzo were anything but friendly to Girolamo, as indeed it was hardly to be expected that they could have been. And this public friend-like manifestation is an instance of a kind constantly recurring in Italian history, of the mode in which the "viso sciolto, pensieri stretti" wisdom was carried into practice, that is far less pleasing to trans-Alpine barbarians than to the Macchiavelli and Guicciardini schooled statesmen of Italy.

From this Galeazzo descend, it may be noted, the present family of the Riarii.

Catherine's sixth child was christened Francesco Sforza, and was generally known by the familiar diminutive Sforzino.

There would be neither instruction nor amusement to be got from reading page after page filled with detailed accounts of the various occasions on which the chronic state of conspiracy against the Riarii burst out ever and anon into overt acts, during these years. Correspondence was well known to be actively kept up by the Ordelaffi with their friends within the city; and every now and then some butter woman, or friar, or countryman driving a pig into market, was caught with letters in his possession, and had to be hung. Then would occur attempts at insurrection, which occasioned fines and banishment, and beheading and hanging upon a larger scale. And the historians adverse to the Riarii assert that he hung and beheaded too much, and could expect no love from subjects thus treated; while the writers of opposite sympathies maintain, that he hung and beheaded so mildly and moderately, that the ForlÌvesi were monsters of ingratitude not to love and honour so good a prince.

Thus matters go on, perceptibly getting from bad to worse. Cash runs very low in the princely coffers, and the meat tax has to be re-imposed, occasioning a degree of discontent and disaffection altogether disproportioned to the gratitude obtained by its previous repeal. Unceasing vigilance has to be practised, stimulated by the princely but uncomfortable feeling, that every man approaching is as likely as not to be intent on murdering you. Girolamo and his Countess, one or other, or both, have to rush from ForlÌ to Imola, and from Imola to ForlÌ, at a moment's notice, for the prompt stamping out of some dangerous spark of tumult or insurrection.

In a word, this business of great family-founding on another man's foundations seems to have entailed a sufficiently hard life on those engaged in it. And though that "last infirmity of noble (?) minds," which prompts so much ignoble feeling, and engenders so many ignoble actions, vexing as it did their prince, vexed also the cultivators of the rich alluvial fields around ForlÌ by corn taxes, salt taxes, meat taxes, and other "redevances," yet on the whole it may be well supposed that "fallentis semita vitÆ" at the plough tail had the best of it, despite occasional danger from the summary justice of the Castellano of Ravaldino. That black care, which rode so inseparably and so hard behind the harassed prince backwards and forwards between ForlÌ and Imola, did more than keep the balance even between hempen jerkin and damasqued coat of mail; and the least enviable man in ForlÌ and its county was in all probability the founder of the greatness of the Riarii.

One consolation, however, this hard-worked prince had in all his troubles, and that perhaps the greatest that a man can have. His wife was in every way truly a help meet for him. Catherine was the very belle idÉale of a sovereign chÂtelaine in that stormy fifteenth century. Her aims and ambitions were those of her husband; and she was ever ready in sunshine or in storm to take her full share of the burden of the day; and, indeed, in time of trouble and danger, far more than what was even then deemed a woman's share in meeting and overcoming them. Dark to all those higher and nobler views of human morals and human conduct which have since been slowly emerging, and are still struggling into recognition, as we must suppose that vigorous intelligence and strong-willed heart to have been, nourished as it was only on such teaching, direct and indirect, as "ages of faith" could supply, still Catherine had that in her, which, if it may fail to conciliate our love, must yet command our respect, even in the nineteenth century. From what she deemed to be her duty, as far as we can discern, this strong, proud, energetic, courageous, masterful woman never shrank. And it led her on many a trying occasion into by no means rose-strewed paths. Her duty, as she understood it, was by all means of all sorts,—by subtle counsel when craft was needed, by lavished smiles where smiles were current, by fastuous magnificence where magnificence could impose, by energetic action when the crisis required it, by gracious condescension when that might avail, by high-handed right-royal domineering when such was more efficacious, by fearlessly meeting peril and resolutely labouring, to aid and abet her husband in taking and holding a place among the sovereign princes of Italy, and to preserve the same, when she was left to do so single-handed for her children. And this duty Catherine performed with a high heart, a strong hand, and an indomitable will, throwing herself wholly into the turbulent objective life before her, and perfectly unmolested by any subjective examination of the nature of the passions which conveniently enough seemed to range themselves on the side of duty, or doubt-begetting speculations as to the veritable value of the aims before her and the quality of the means needed for the attainment of them.

In March, 1487, Catherine went to visit her relations and connections at Milan, leaving her husband at Imola; but had been there a very few weeks when she was hurriedly summoned to return. Girolamo had been seized with sudden and alarming illness at Imola.[114] Catherine reached his bedside on the 31st of May, and found him given over by his medical attendants. She judged, however, that he had not been properly treated, and lost no time in obtaining the best medical advice in Italy, we are told,—from Milan, Ferrara, and Bologna. She also nursed him indefatigably herself, and had the gratification of seeing him slowly recover.

While he was still unable to leave his chamber alarming news arrived from ForlÌ. The faithful Tolentino had died some time previously, and one Melchior Zocchejo, of Savona, had been appointed Castellano of Ravaldino. This man is described[115] as having been previously a corsair, and as being a most ferocious and brutal man, worthless, moreover, in all respects. The seneschal of the palace at ForlÌ at this time was a certain Innocenzio Codronchi, an old and faithful adherent of the Riarii. He had made a sort of intimacy with Zocchejo, as a brother chess-player, and used to go into the fortress frequently to play with him, for the duties of the Castellano did not permit him ever to leave the fort for an hour. This same impossibility made, it seems, an excuse for the seneschal to offer to send a dinner into the fort, since he could return the governor's hospitality in no other way. Introducing thus several bravoes in the guise of servants, Codronchi suddenly poinarded Zocchejo at table, and with the assistance of his men seized the fort.

It was supposed at once in ForlÌ, that, old retainer of the family as Codronchi was, he had been gained by the Ordelaffi; and that the fortress, and in all probability the city also, was consequently lost. The consternation was great; and a messenger, despatched in all haste to Imola, reached the sick room of the Count late at night with these alarming tidings. He was still too far from well to leave his room. Catherine was expecting her fifth confinement every day. Still the matter was too urgent to be neglected. She at once got into the saddle; and by midnight that night was before the gate of Fort Ravaldino in ForlÌ, summoning Codronchi to give an account of his conduct.

"Dearest lady," replied the seneschal,[116] appearing on the battlements, and speaking thence to his mistress below, "the fortress should not have been entrusted to the hands of such a man as the governor, a worthless drunkard. To-night I can say no more than this. Go, I entreat, and seek repose, and to-morrow return here to breakfast with us in the fort."

Old servants, it must be supposed, occasionally take strange liberties in all climes and ages; but certainly this address does, under the circumstances of the case, seem one of the strangest.

Catherine, with one attendant before the closed gates of her castle at midnight, had nothing for it but to do as this audacious seneschal advised her. The next morning she went according to invitation, carrying with her, we are told, the materials for an excellent breakfast. But on reaching again the still closely barred gates of Ravaldino, the lady was told from the battlements, that she herself, and the breakfast, with one servant to carry it would be admitted, but no more. If matters looked bad before, this insolent proposition certainly gave them a much worse appearance; and made it very necessary for the Countess to reflect well before acceding to it. If indeed the seneschal had been bought by the Ordelaffi, his conduct was intelligible enough, and her fate would be sealed if she trusted herself within the fortress. It might be, however, that Codronchi, alarmed at the daring step he had taken, was only thinking of providing for the immediate safety of his own neck from the first burst of his mistress's wrath, when he refused to admit any followers with her. Again, it might be that he was wavering in his allegiance, and might yet be confirmed in it.

Catherine, after a few minutes of reflection, decided in opposition to the strongly urged advice of her counsellors in the city, on accepting the man's terms; and she and the breakfast and one groom passed into the fortress. All ForlÌ was, meanwhile, on the tip-toe of anxious expectation for the result. Of what passed at this odd breakfast, we have no means of knowing anything, inasmuch as the citizens of ForlÌ, including the writers who have chronicled the strange story, remained then and ever after in perfect ignorance on the subject. Catherine, we are told, shortly came forth, and summoning to her one Tommaso Feo, a trusted friend of her own, returned with him into the fortress. And Codronchi immediately gave over the command of it into his hands; which done, he and Catherine, leaving Feo as Castellano, came away together to the Palazzo Pubblico of ForlÌ, where a great crowd of the citizens were waiting to hear the result of these extraordinary events.

The Countess, however, spoke "only a few mysterious words" to the crowd. "Know, my men of ForlÌ," said she, "that Ravaldino was lost to me and to the city by the means of this Innocenzio here; but I have recovered it; and have left it in right trusty hands." And the seneschal voluntarily confirmed what the lady said, remarking that it was true enough! Whereupon this self-confessed traitor and the Countess mounted their horses, and rode away to Imola together, apparently in perfect understanding with each other! "And the next morning, two hours after sunrise, Catherine gave birth, without any untoward accident whatever, to a fine healthy boy."[117]

The whole of which queer story, reading as it does, more like a sort of Puss-in-boots nursery tale than a bit of real matter-of-fact history, gives us a very curious peep at the sort of duties and risks these little sovereigns of a city and its territory had to meet, and the sort of footing on which they often were obliged to stand with their dependants.

This night-ride to ForlÌ, too, may under all the circumstances of the case be cited in justification of the assertion, that our dashing, vigorous, little scrupulous heroine, had some stuff of fine quality in her after all. And it was on the eve of being yet more severely tried.

Girolamo had recovered and returned with Catherine to ForlÌ. Being hardly pressed for money, he had farmed out the much-hated meat-tax to one Checco, of the Orsi family, to whom he appears to have owed considerable arrears of pay for military service. Checco d'Orsi wanted, not unreasonably, to stop the arrears due to him out of the sum coming to the Prince from the tax. But this did not suit the Prince's calculations, and he threatened the noble Orsi with imprisonment.

Yet, notwithstanding these sources of ill-feeling, the Count seems to have received him courteously, when on the evening of the 14th of April, 1488, he presented himself at the Prince's usual hour of granting audiences. It was after supper, and Catherine had retired to "her secret bower," a point of much importance to Checco d'Orsi and his friends. Entering the palace they made sure that the business in hand should not be interrupted by interference of hers, by placing a couple of their number at the foot of the turret stair which led to her private apartments. The others passing on to the great hall,—Sala dei Ninfi,—they found Girolamo leaning with one elbow on the sill of the great window looking on to the Piazza Grande, and talking with his Chancellor.[118] There was one servant also in the further part of the hall.

"How goes it, Checco mio?" said he, putting out his hand kindly.

"That way goes it!" replied his murderer, stabbing him mortally as he uttered the words.

So Catherine became a widow with six children, at twenty-six years of age.