Renaissance in Italy

Chapter VI Social and Domestic Morals: Part II

Tales illustrative of Bravi and Banditti—Cecco Bibboni—Ambrogio Tremazzi—Lodovico dall’Armi—Brigandage—Piracy—Plagues—The Plagues of Milan, Venice, Piedmont—Persecution of the Untori—Moral State of the Proletariate—Witchcraft—Its Italian Features—History of Giacomo Centini.

The stories related in the foregoing chapter abundantly demonstrate the close connection between the aristocracy and their accomplices—bravos and bandits. But it still remains to consider this connection from the professional murderer’s own point of view. And for this purpose, I will now make use of two documents vividly illustrative of the habits, sentiments, and social status of men who undertook to speculate in bloodshed for reward. They are both autobiographical; and both relate tragedies which occupied the attention of all Italy.

Cecco Bibboni

The first of these documents is the report made by Cecco Bibboni concerning his method adopted for the murder of Lorenzino de’Medici at Venice in 1546. Lorenzino, by the help of a bravo called Scoroncolo, had assassinated his cousin Alessandro, Duke of Florence, in 1537. After accomplishing this deed, which gained for him the name of Brutus, he escaped from the city; and a distant relative of the murdered and the murderer, Cosimo de’Medici, was chosen Duke in Alessandro’s stead. One of the first acts of his reign was to publish a ban of outlawry against Lorenzino. His portrait was painted according to old Tuscan usage head downwards, and suspended by one foot, upon the wall of Alessandro’s fortress. His house was cut in twain from roof to pavement, and a narrow passage was driven through it, which received the name of Traitor’s Alley, Chiasso del Traditore. The price put upon his head was enormous—four thousand golden florins, with a pension of one hundred florins to the murderer and his heirs in perpetuity. The man who should kill Lorenzino was, further, to enjoy amnesty from all offenses and to exercise full civic rights; he was promised exemption from taxes, the privilege of carrying arms with two attendants in the whole domain of Florence, and the prerogative of restoring ten outlaws at his choice. If he captured Lorenzino and brought him alive to Florence, the reward would be double in each item. There was enough here to raise cupidity and stir the speculative spirit. Cecco Bibboni shall tell us how the business was brought to a successful termination.225

‘When I returned from Germany,’ begins Bibboni, ‘where I had been in the pay of the Emperor, I found at Vicenza Bebo da Volterra, who was staying in the house of M. Antonio da Roma, a nobleman of that city. This gentleman employed him because of a great feud he had; and he was mighty pleased, moreover, at my coming, and desired that I too should take up my quarters in his palace.’

Bibboni proceeds to say how another gentleman of Vicenza, M. Francesco Manente, had at this time a feud with certain of the Guazzi and the Laschi, which had lasted several years, and cost the lives of many members of both parties and their following. M. Francesco, being a friend of M. Antonio, besought that gentleman to lend him Bibboni and Bebo for a season; and the two bravi went together with their new master to Celsano, a village in the neighborhood. ‘There both parties had estates, and all of them kept armed men in their houses, so that not a day passed without feats of arms, and always there was some one killed or wounded. One day, soon afterwards, the leaders of our party resolved to attack the foe in their house, where we killed two, and the rest, numbering five men, entrenched themselves in a ground-floor apartment; whereupon we took possession of their harquebusses and other arms, which forced them to abandon the villa and retire to Vicenza; and within a short space of time this great feud was terminated by an ample peace.’ After this Bebo took service with the Rector of the University in Padua, and was transferred by his new patron to Milan. Bibboni remained at Vicenza with M. Galeazzo della Seta, who stood in great fear of his life, notwithstanding the peace which had been concluded between the two factions. At the end of ten months he returned to M. Antonio da Roma and his six brothers, ‘all of whom being very much attached to me, they proposed that I should live my life with them, for good or ill, and be treated as one of the family; upon the understanding that if war broke out and I wanted to take part in it, I should always have twenty-five crowns and arms and horse, with welcome home, so long as I lived; and in case I did not care to join the troops, the same provision for my maintenance.’

From these details we comprehend the sort of calling which a bravo of Bibboni’s species followed. Meanwhile Bebo was at Milan. ‘There it happened that M. Francesco Vinta, of Volterra, was on embassy from the Duke of Florence. He saw Bebo, and asked him what he was doing in Milan, and Bebo answered that he was a knight errant.’ This phrase—derived, no doubt, from the romantic epics then in vogue—was a pretty euphemism for a rogue of Bebo’s quality. The ambassador now began cautiously to sound his man, who seems to have been outlawed from the Tuscan duchy, telling him he knew a way by which he might return with favor to his home, and at last disclosing the affair of Lorenzino. Bebo was puzzled at first, but when he understood the matter, he professed his willingness, took letters from the envoy to the Duke of Florence, and, in a private audience with Cosimo, informed him that he was ready to attempt Lorenzino’s assassination. He added that ‘he had a comrade fit for such a job, whose fellow for the business could not easily be found.’

Bebo now traveled to Vicenza, and opened the whole matter to Bibboni, who weighed it well, and at last, being convinced that the Duke’s commission to his comrade was bonâ fide, determined to take his share in the undertaking. The two agreed to have no accomplices. They went to Venice, and ‘I,’ says Bibboni, ‘being most intimately acquainted with all that city, and provided there with many friends, soon quietly contrived to know where Lorenzino lodged, and took a room in the neighborhood, and spent some days in seeing how we best might rule our conduct.’ Bibboni soon discovered that Lorenzino never left his palace; and he therefore remained in much perplexity, until, by good luck, Ruberto Strozzi arrived from France in Venice, bringing in his train a Navarrese servant, who had the nickname of Spagnoletto. This fellow was a great friend of the bravo. They met, and Bibboni told him that he should like to go and kiss the hands of Messer Ruberto, whom he had known in Rome. Strozzi inhabited the same palace as Lorenzino. ‘When we arrived there, both Messer Ruberto and Lorenzino were leaving the house, and there were around them so many gentlemen and other persons, that I could not present myself, and both straightway stepped into the gondola. Then I, not having seen Lorenzino for a long while past, and because he was very quietly attired, could not recognize the man exactly, but only as it were between certainty and doubt. Wherefore I said to Spagnoletto, “I think I know that gentleman, but don’t remember where I saw him.” And Messer Ruberto was giving him his right hand. Then Spagnoletto answered, “You know him well enough; he is Messer Lorenzino. But see you tell this to nobody. He goes by the name of Messer Dario, because he lives in great fear for his safety, and people don’t know that he is now in Venice.” I answered that I marveled much, and if I could have helped him, would have done so willingly. Then I asked where they were going, and he said, to dine with Messer Giovanni della Casa, who was the Pope’s Legate. I did not leave the man till I had drawn from him all I required.’

Thus spoke the Italian Judas. The appearance of La Casa on the scene is interesting. He was the celebrated author of the Capitolo del Forno, the author of many sublime and melancholy sonnets, who was now at Venice prosecuting a charge of heresy against Pier Paolo Vergerio, and paying his addresses to a noble lady of the Quirini family. It seems that on the territory of San Marco he made common cause with the exiles from Florence, for he was himself by birth a Florentine, and he had no objection to take Brutus-Lorenzino by the hand.

After the noblemen had rowed off in their gondola to dine with the Legate, Bibboni and his friend entered their palace, where he found another old acquaintance, the house-steward, or spenditore of Lorenzino. From him he gathered much useful information. Pietro Strozzi, it seems, had allowed the tyrannicide one thousand five hundred crowns a year, with the keep of three brave and daring companions (tre compagni bravi e facinorosi), and a palace worth fifty crowns on lease. But Lorenzino had just taken another on the Campo di San Polo at three hundred crowns a year, for which swagger (altura) Pietro Strozzi had struck a thousand crowns off his allowance. Bibboni also learned that he was keeping house with his uncle, Alessandro Soderini, another Florentine outlaw, and that he was ardently in love with a certain beautiful Barozza. This woman was apparently one of the grand courtesans of Venice. He further ascertained the date when he was going to move into the palace at San Polo, and, ‘to put it briefly, knew everything he did, and, as it were, how many times a day he spit.’ Such were the intelligences of the servants’ hall, and of such value were they to men of Bibboni’s calling.

In the Carnival of 1546 Lorenzino meant to go masqued in the habit of a gypsy woman to the square of San Spirito, where there was to be a joust. Great crowds of people would assemble, and Bibboni hoped to do his business there. The assassination, however, failed on this occasion, and Lorenzino took up his abode in the palace he had hired upon the Campo di San Polo. This Campo is one of the largest open places in Venice, shaped irregularly, with a finely curving line upon the western side, where two of the noblest private houses in the city are still standing. Nearly opposite these, in the south-western angle, stands, detached, the little old church of San Polo. One of its side entrances opens upon the square; the other on a lane which leads eventually to the Frari. There is nothing in Bibboni’s narrative to make it clear where Lorenzino hired his dwelling. But it would seem from certain things which he says later on, that in order to enter the church his victim had to cross the square. Meanwhile Bibboni took the precaution of making friends with a shoemaker, whose shop commanded the whole Campo, including Lorenzino’s palace. In this shop he began to spend much of his time; ‘and oftentimes I feigned to be asleep; but God knows whether I was sleeping, for my mind, at any rate, was wide awake.’

A second convenient occasion for murdering Lorenzino soon seemed to offer. He was bidden to dine with Monsignor della Casa; and Bibboni, putting a bold face on, entered the Legate’s palace, having left Bebo below in the loggia, fully resolved to do the business. ‘But we found,’ he says, ‘that they had gone to dine at Murano, so that we remained with our tabors in their bag.’ The island of Murano at that period was a favorite resort of the Venetian nobles, especially of the more literary and artistic, who kept country-houses there, where they enjoyed the fresh air of the lagoons and the quiet of their gardens.

The third occasion, after all these weeks of watching, brought success to Bibboni’s schemes. He had observed how Lorenzino occasionally so far broke his rules of caution as to go on foot, past the church of San Polo, to visit the beautiful Barozza; and he resolved, if possible, to catch him on one of these journeys. ‘It so chanced on February 28, which was the second Sunday of Lent, that having gone, as was my wont, to pry out whether Lorenzino would give orders for going abroad that day, I entered the shoemaker’s shop, and stayed awhile, until Lorenzino came to the window with a napkin round his neck—for he was combing his hair —and at the same moment I saw a certain Giovan Battista Martelli, who kept his sword for the defense of Lorenzino’s person, enter and come forth again. Concluding that they would probably go abroad, I went home to get ready and procure the necessary weapons, and there I found Bebo asleep in bed, and made him get up at once, and we came to our accustomed post of observation, by the church of San Polo, where our men would have to pass.’ Bibboni now retired to his friend the shoemaker’s, and Bebo took up his station at one of the side doors of San Polo: ‘and, as good luck would have it, Giovan Battista Martelli came forth, and walked a piece in front, and then Lorenzino came, and then Alessandro Soderini, going the one behind the other, like storks, and Lorenzino, on entering the church, and lifting up the curtain of the door, was seen from the opposite door by Bebo, who at the same time noticed how I had left the shop, and so we met upon the street as we had agreed, and he told me that Lorenzino was inside the church.’

To any one who knows the Campo di San Polo, it will be apparent that Lorenzino had crossed from the western side of the piazza and entered the church by what is technically called its northern door. Bebo, stationed at the southern door, could see him when he pushed the heavy stoia or leather curtain aside, and at the same time could observe Bibboni’s movements in the cobbler’s shop. Meanwhile Lorenzino walked across the church and came to the same door where Bebo had been standing. ‘I saw him issue from the church and take the main street; then came Alessandro Soderini, and I walked last of all; and when we reached the point we had determined on, I jumped in front of Alessandro with the poignard in my hand, crying, “Hold hard, Alessandro, and get along with you, in God’s name, for we are not here for you!” He then threw himself around my waist, and grasped my arms, and kept on calling out. Seeing how wrong I had been to try to spare his life, I wrenched myself as well as I could from his grip, and with my lifted poignard struck him, as God willed, above the eyebrow, and a little blood trickled from the wound. He, in high fury, gave me such a thrust that I fell backward, and the ground besides was slippery from having rained a little. Then Alessandro drew his sword, which he carried in its scabbard, and thrust at me in front, and struck me on the corselet, which for my good fortune was of double mail. Before I could get ready I received three passes, which, had I worn a doublet instead of that mailed corselet, would certainly have run me through. At the fourth pass I had regained my strength and spirit, and closed with him, and stabbed him four times in the head, and being so close he could not use his sword, but tried to parry with his hand and hilt, and I, as God willed, struck him at the wrist below the sleeve of mail, and cut his hand off clean, and gave him then one last stroke on his head. Thereupon he begged for God’s sake spare his life, and I, in trouble about Bebo, left him in the arms of a Venetian nobleman, who held him back from jumping into the canal.’

Who this Venetian nobleman, found unexpectedly upon the scene, was, does not appear. Nor, what is still more curious, do we hear anything of that Martelli, the bravo, ‘who kept his sword for the defense of Lorenzino’s person.’ The one had arrived accidentally, it seems. The other must have been a coward and escaped from the scuffle.

‘When I turned,’ proceeds Bibboni, ‘I found Lorenzino on his knees. He raised himself, and I in anger, gave him a great cut across the head, which split it in two pieces, and laid him at my feet, and he never rose again.’

Bebo, meanwhile, had made off from the scene of action. And Bibboni, taking to his heels, came up with him in the little square of San Marcello. They now ran for their lives till they reached the traghetto di San Spirito, where they threw their poignards into the water, remembering that no man might carry these in Venice under penalty of the galleys. Bibboni’s white hose were drenched with blood. He therefore agreed to separate from Bebo, having named a rendezvous. Left alone, his ill luck brought him face to face with twenty constables (sbirri). ‘In a moment I conceived that they knew everything, and were come to capture me, and of a truth I saw that it was over with me. As swiftly as I could I quickened pace and got into a church, near to which was the house of a Compagnia, and the one opened into the other, and knelt down and prayed commending myself with fervor to God for my deliverance and safety. Yet while I prayed, I kept my eyes well opened and saw the whole band pass the church, except one man who entered, and I strained my sight so that I seemed to see behind as well as in front, and then it was I longed for my poignard, for I should not have heeded being in a church.’ But the constable, it soon appeared, was not looking for Bibboni. So he gathered up his courage, and ran for the Church of San Spirito, where the Padre Andrea Volterrano was preaching to a great congre gation. He hoped to go in by one door and out by the other, but the crowd prevented him, and he had to turn back and face the sbirri. One of them followed him, having probably caught sight of the blood upon his hose. Then Bibboni resolved to have done with the fellow, and rushed at him, and flung him down with his head upon the pavement, and ran like mad, and came at last, all out of breath to San Marco.

It seems clear that before Bibboni separated from Bebo they had crossed the water, for the Sestiere di San Polo is separated from the Sestiere di San Marco by the Grand Canal. And this they must have done at the traghetto di San Spirito. Neither the church nor the traghetto are now in existence, and this part of the story is therefore obscure.226

Having reached San Marco, he took a gondola at the Ponte della Paglia, where tourists are now wont to stand and contemplate the Ducal Palace and the Bridge of Sighs. First, he sought the house of a woman of the town who was his friend; then changed purpose, and rowed to the palace of the Count Salici da Collalto. ‘He was a great friend and intimate of ours, because Bebo and I had done him many and great services in times past. There I knocked; and Bebo opened the door, and when he saw me dabbled with blood, he marveled that I had not come to grief and fallen into the hands of justice; and, indeed, had feared as much because I had remained so long away.’ It appears, therefore, that the Palazzo Collalto was their rendezvous. ‘The Count was from home; but being known to all his people, I played the master and went into the kitchen to the fire, and with soap and water turned my hose, which had been white, to a grey color.’ This is a very delicate way of saying that he washed out the blood of Alessandro and Lorenzino!

Soon after the Count returned, and ‘lavished caresses’ upon Bebo and his precious comrade. They did not tell him what they had achieved that morning, but put him off with a story of having settled a sbirro in a quarrel about a girl. Then the Count invited them to dinner; and being himself bound to entertain the first physician of Venice, requested them to take it in an upper chamber. He and his secretary served them with their own hands at table. When the physician arrived, the Count went downstairs; and at this moment a messenger came from Lorenzino’s mother, begging the doctor to go at once to San Polo, for that her son had been murdered and Soderini wounded to the death. It was now no longer possible to conceal their doings from the Count, who told them to pluck up courage and abide in patience. He had himself to dine and take his siesta, and then to attend a meeting of the Council.

About the hour of vespers, Bibboni determined to seek better refuge. Followed at a discreet distance by Bebo, he first called at their lodgings and ordered supper. Two priests came in and fell into conversation with them. But something in the behavior of one of these good men roused his suspicions. So they left the house, took a gondola, and told the man to row hard to S. Maria Zobenigo. On the way he bade him put them on shore, paid him well, and ordered him to wait for them. They landed near the palace of the Spanish embassy; and here Bibboni meant to seek sanctuary. For it must be remembered that the houses of ambassadors, no less than those of princes of the Church, were inviolable. They offered the most convenient harboring-places to rascals. Charles V., moreover, was deeply interested in the vengeance taken on Alessandro de’Medici’s murderer, for his own natural daughter was Alessandro’s widow and Duchess of Florence. In the palace they were received with much courtesy by about forty Spaniards, who showed considerable curiosity, and told them that Lorenzino and Alessandro Soderini had been murdered that morning by two men whose description answered to their appearance. Bibboni put their questions by and asked to see the ambassador. He was not at home. ‘In that case,’ said Bibboni, ‘take us to the secretary. Attended by some thirty Spaniards, ‘with great joy and gladness,’ they were shown into the secretary’s chamber. He sent the rest of the folk away, ’and locked the door well, and then embraced and kissed us before we had said a word, and afterwards bade us talk freely without any fear.’ When Bibboni had told the whole story, he was again embraced and kissed by the secretary, who thereupon left them and went to the private apartment of the ambassador. Shortly after he returned and led them by a winding staircase into the presence of his master. The ambassador greeted them with great honor, told them he would strain all the power of the empire to hand them in safety over to Duke Cosimo, and that he had already sent a courier to the Emperor with the good news.

So they remained in hiding in the Spanish embassy; and in ten days’ time commands were received from Charles himself that everything should be done to convey them safely to Florence. The difficulty was how to smuggle them out of Venice, where the police of the Republic were on watch, and Florentine outlaws were mounting guard on sea and shore to catch them. The ambassador began by spreading reports on the Rialto every morning of their having been seen at Padua, at Verona, in Friuli. He then hired a palace at Malghera, near Mestre, and went out daily with fifty Spaniards, and took carriage or amused himself with horse exercise and shooting. The Florentines, who were on watch, could only discover from his people that he did this for amusement. When he thought that he had put them sufficiently off their guard, the ambassador one day took Bibboni and Bebo out by Canaregio to Malghera, concealed in his own gondola, with the whole train of Spaniards in attendance. And though on landing, the Florentines challenged them, they durst not interfere with an ambassador or come to battle with his men. So Bebo and Bibboni were hustled into a coach, and afterwards provided with two comrades and four horses. They rode for ninety miles without stopping to sleep, and on the day following this long journey reached Trento, having probably threaded the mountain valleys above Bassano, for Bibboni speaks of a certain village where the people talked half German. The Imperial Ambassador at Trento forwarded them next day to Mantua; from Mantua they came to Piacenza; thence passing through the valley of the Taro, crossing the Apennines at Cisa, descending on Pontremoli, and reaching Pisa at night, the fourteenth day after their escape from Venice.

When they arrived at Pisa, Duke Cosimo was supping. So they went to an inn, and next morning presented themselves to his Grace. Cosimo welcomed them kindly, assured them of his gratitude, confirmed them in the enjoyment of their rewards and privileges, and swore that they might rest secure of his protection in all parts of his dominion. We may imagine how the men caroused together after this reception. As Bibboni adds, ‘We were now able for the whole time of life left us to live splendidly, without a thought or care.’ The last words of his narrative are these: ‘Bebo, from Pisa, at what date I know not, went home to Volterra, his native town, and there finished his days; while I abode in Florence, where I have had no further wish to hear of wars, but to live my life in holy peace.’

So ends the story of the two bravi. We have reason to believe, from some contemporary documents which Cantù has brought to light, that Bibboni exaggerated his own part in the affair. Luca Martelli, writing to Varchi, says that it was Bebo who clove Lorenzino’s skull with a cutlass. He adds this curious detail, that the weapons of both men were poisoned, and that the wound inflicted by Bibboni on Soderini’s hand was a slight one. Yet, the poignard being poisoned, Soderini died of it. In other respects Martelli’s brief account agrees with that given by Bibboni, who probably did no more, his comrade being dead, than claim for himself, at some expense of truth, the lion’s share of their heroic action.

Ambrogio Tremazzi227

In illustration of this narrative, and in evidence that it stands by no means solitary on the records of that century, I shall extract some passages from the report made by Ambrogio Tremazzi of Modigliana concerning the assassination of Troilo Orsini. Troilo it will be remembered, was the lover of the Medicean Duchess of Bracciano. After the discovery of their amours, and while the lady was being strangled by her husband, with the sanction of her brother Troilo escaped to France. Ambrogio Tremazzi knowing that his murder would be acceptable to the Medici, undertook the adventure; moved, as he says, ‘solely by the desire of bringing myself into favorable notice with the Grand Duke; for my mind revolted at the thought of money payments, and I had in view the acquisition of honor and praise rather, being willing to risk my life for the credit of my Prince, and not my life only, but also to incur deadly and perpetual feud with a powerful branch of the Orsini family.’ On his return from France, having successfully accomplished the mission, Ambrogio Tremazzi found that the friends who had previously encouraged his hopes, especially the Count Ridolfo Isolami, wished to compromise his reward by the settlement of a pension on himself and his associate. Whether he really aimed at a more honorable recognition of his services, or whether he sought to obtain better pecuniary terms, does not appear. But he represents himself as gravely insulted; ‘seeing that my tenor of life from boyhood upwards has been always honorable, and thus it ever shall be.’ After this exordium in the form of a letter addressed to one Signor Antonio [Serguidi], he proceeds to render account of his proceedings. It seems that Don Piero de’Medici gave him three hundred crowns for his traveling expenses; after which, leaving his son, a boy of twelve years, as hostage in the service of Piero, he set off and reached Paris on August 12, 1577. There he took lodgings at the sign of the Red Horse, near the Cordeilliers, and began at once to make inquiries for Troilo. He had brought with him from Italy a man called Hieronimo Savorano. Their joint investigations elicited the fact that Troilo had been lately wounded in the service of the King of France, and was expected to arrive in Paris with the Court. It was not until the eve of All Saints’ day that the Court returned. Soon afterwards, Ambrogio was talking at the door of a house with some Italian comedians, when a young man, covered with a tawny-colored mantle, passed by upon a brown horse, bearing a servant behind him on the crupper. This was Troilo Orsini; and Ambrogio marked him well. Troilo, after some minutes’ conversation with the players, rode forward to the Louvre. The bravo followed him and discovered from his servant where he lodged. Accordingly, he engaged rooms in the Rue S. Honoré, in order to be nearer to his victim.

Some time, however, elapsed before he was able to ascertain Troilo’s daily habits. Chance at last threw them together. He was playing primiero one evening in the house of an actress called Vittoria, when Troilo entered, with two gentlemen of Florence. He said he had been absent ten days from Paris. Ambrogio, who had left his harquebuss at home, not expecting to meet him, ‘was consequently on that occasion unable to do anything.’ Days passed without a better opportunity, till, on November 30, ‘the feast of S. Andrew, which is a lucky day for me, I rose and went at once to the palace, and, immediately on my arrival, saw him at the hour when the king goes forth to mass.’ Ambrogio had to return as he went; for Troilo was surrounded by too many gentlemen of the French Court; but he made his mind up then and there ‘to see the end of him or me.’ He called his comrade Hieronimo, posted him on a bridge across the Seine, and proceeded to the Court, where Troilo was now playing racquets with princes of the royal family. Ambrogio hung about the gates until Troilo issued from the lodgings of Monseigneur de Montmorenci, still tracked by his unknown enemy, and thence returned to his own house on horseback attended by several servants. After waiting till the night fell, Troilo again left home on horseback preceded by his servants with torches. Ambrogio followed at full speed, watched a favorable opportunity, and stopped the horse. When I came up with him, I seized the reins with my left hand and with my right I set my harquebuss against his side, pushing it with such violence that if it had failed to go off it would at any rate have dislodged him from his seat. The gun took effect and he fell crying out “Eh! Eh!” In the tumult which ensued, I walked away, and do not know what happened afterwards.’ Ambrogio then made his way back to his lodgings, recharged his harquebuss, ate some supper and went to bed. He told Hieronimo that nothing had occurred that night. Next day he rose as usual, and returned to the Court, hoping to hear news of Troilo. In the afternoon, at the Italian theatre, he was informed that an Italian had been murdered, at the instance, it was thought, of the Grand Duke of Florence. Hieronimo touched his arm, and whispered that he must have done the deed; but Ambrogio denied the fact. It seems to have been his object to reserve the credit of the murder for himself, and also to avoid the possibility of Hieronimo’s treachery in case suspicion fell upon him. Afterwards he learned that Troilo lay dangerously wounded by a harquebuss. Further details made him aware that he was himself suspected of the murder, and that Troilo could not recover. He therefore conferred upon the matter with Hieronimo in Notre Dame, and both of them resolved to leave Paris secretly. This they did at once, relinquishing clothes, arms, and baggage in their lodgings, and reached Italy in safety.

Lodovico dall’Armi

The relations of trust which bravi occasionally maintained with foreign Courts, supply some curious illustrations of their position in Italian society. One characteristic instance may be selected from documents in the Venetian Archives referring to Lodovico dall’Armi.228 This man belonged to a noble family of Bologna; and there are reasons for supposing that his mother was sister to Cardinal Campeggi, famous in the annals of the English Reformation. Outlawed from his native city for a homicide, Lodovico adopted the profession of arms and the management of secret diplomacy. He first took refuge at the Court of France, where in 1541 he obtained such credit, especially with the Dauphin, that he was entrusted with a mission for raising revolt in Siena against the Spaniards.229 His transactions in that city with Giulio Salvi, then aspiring to its lordship, and in Rome with the French ambassador, led to a conspiracy which only awaited the appearance of French troops upon the Tuscan frontier to break out into open rebellion. The plot, however, transpired before it had been matured; and Lodovico took flight through the Florentine territory. He was arrested at Montevarchi and confined in the fortress of Florence, where he made such revelations as rendered the extinction of the Sienese revolt an easy matter. After this we do not hear of him until he reappears at Venice in the year 1545. He was now accredited to the English ambassador with the title of Henry VIII.’s ‘Colonel,’ and enjoyed the consideration accorded to a powerful monarch’s privy agent.

His pension amounted to fifty crowns a month, while he kept eight captains at his orders, each of whom received half that sum as pay. These subordinates were people of some social standing. We find among them a Trissino of Vicenza and a Bonifacio of Verona, the one entitled Marquis and the other Count. What the object of Lodovico’s residence in Italy might be, did not appear. Though he carried letters of recommendation from the English Court, he laid no claim to the rank of diplomatic envoy. But it was tolerably well known that he employed himself in levying troops. Whether these were meant to be used against France or in favor of Savoy, or whether, as the Court of Rome suggested, Henry had given orders for the murder of his cousin, Cardinal Pole, at Trento, remained an open question. Lodovico might have dwelt in peace under the tolerant rule of the Venetians, had he not exposed himself to a collision with their police. In the month of August he assaulted the captain of the night guard in a street brawl; and it was also proved against him that he had despatched two of his men to inflict a wound of infamy upon a gentleman at Treviso. These offenses, coinciding with urgent remonstrances from the Papal Curia, gave the Venetian Government fair pretext for expelling him from their dominions. A ban was therefore published against him and fourteen of his followers. The English ambassador declined to interfere in his behalf, and the man left Italy. At the end of August he appeared at Brussels, where he attempted to excuse himself in an interview with the Venetian ambassador. Now began a diplomatic correspondence between the English Court and the Venetian Council, which clearly demonstrates what kind of importance attached to this private agent. The Chancellor Lord Wriothesley, and the Secretary Sir William Paget, used considerable urgency to obtain a suspension of the ban against Dall’Armi. After four months’ negotiation, during which the Papal Court endeavored to neutralize Henry’s influence, the Doge signed a safe-conduct for five years in favor of the bravo. Early in 1546 Lodovico reappeared in Lombardy. At Mantua he delivered a letter signed by Henry himself to the Duke Francesco Gonzaga, introducing ‘our noble and beloved familiar Lodovico Dall’Armi,’ and begging the Duke to assist him in such matters as he should transact at Mantua in the king’s service.230 Lodovico presented this letter in April; but the Duchess, who then acted as regent for her son Francesco, refused to receive him. She alleged that the Duke forbade the levying of troops for foreign service, and declined to complicate his relations with foreign powers. It seems, from a sufficiently extensive correspondence on the affairs of Lodovico, that he was understood by the Italian princess to be charged with some special commission for recruiting soldiers against the French.

The peace between England and France, signed at Guines in June, rendered Lodovico’s mission nugatory; and the death of Henry VIII. in January 1547 deprived him of his only powerful support. Meanwhile he had contrived to incur the serious displeasure of the Venetian Republic. In the autumn of 1546 they outlawed one of their own nobles, Ser Mafio Bernardo, on the charge of his having revealed state secrets to France. About the middle of November, Bernardo, then living in concealment at Ravenna, was lured into the pine forest by two men furnished with tokens which secured his confidence. He was there murdered, and the assassins turned out to be paid instruments of Lodovico. It now came to light that Lodovico and Ser Mafio Bernardo had for some time past colluded in political intrigue. If, therefore, the murder had a motive, this was found in Lodovico’s dread of revelations under the event of Ser Mario’s capture. Submitted to torture in the prisons of the Ten, Ser Mafio might have incriminated his accomplice both with England and Venice. It was obvious why he had been murdered by Lodovico’s men. Dall’Armi was consequently arrested and confined in Venice. After examination, followed by a temporary release, he prudently took flight into the Duchy of Milan. Though they held proof of his guilt in the matter of Ser Mafio’s murder, the Venetians were apparently unwilling to proceed to extremities against the King of England’s man. Early in February, however, Sir William Paget surrendered him in the name of Lord Pro tector Somerset to the discretion of S. Mark. Furnished with this assurance that Dall’Armi had lost the favor of England, the Signory wrote to demand his arrest and extradition from the Spanish governor in Milan. He was in fact arrested on February 10. The letter announcing his capture describes him as a man of remarkably handsome figure, accustomed to wear a crimson velvet cloak and a red cap trimmed with gold. It is exactly in this costume that Lodovico has been represented by Bonifazio in a picture of the Massacre of the Innocents. The bravo there stands with his back partly turned, gazing stolidly upon a complex scene of bloodshed. He wears a crimson velvet mantle, scarlet cap and white feather, scarlet stockings, crimson velvet shoes, and rose-colored silk underjacket. His person is that of a gallant past the age of thirty, high-complexioned, with short brown beard, spare whiskers and moustache. He is good to look at, except that the sharp set mouth suggests cynical vulgarity and shallow rashness. On being arrested in Milan, Lodovico proclaimed himself a privileged person (persona pubblica), bearing credentials from the King of England; and, during the first weeks of his confinement, he wrote to the Emperor for help. This was an idle step. Henry’s death had left him without protectors, and Charles V. felt no hesitation in abandoning his suppliant to the Venetians. When the usual formalities regarding extradition had been completed, the Milanese Government delivered Lo dovico at the end of April into the hands of the Rector of Brescia, who forwarded him under a guard of two hundred men to Padua. He was hand-cuffed; and special directions were given regarding his safety, it being even prescribed that if he refused food it should be thrust down his throat. What passed in the prisons of the State, after his arrival at Venice, is not known. But on May 14, he was beheaded between the columns on the Molo.

Venice, at this epoch, incurred the reproaches of her neighbors for harboring adventurers of Lodovico’s stamp. One of the Fregosi of Genoa a certain Valerio, and Pietro Strozzi, the notorious French agent, all of whom habitually haunted the lagoons, roused sufficient public anxiety to necessitate diplomatic communications between Courts, and to disquiet fretful Italian princelings. Banished from their own provinces, and plying a petty Condottiere trade, such men, when they came together on a neutral ground, engaged in cross-intrigues which made them politically dangerous. They served no interest but that of their own egotism, and they were notoriously unscrupulous in the means employed to effect immediate objects. At the same time, the protection which they claimed from foreign potentates withdrew them from the customary justice of the State. Bedmar’s conspiracy in 1617-18 revealed to Venice the full extent of the peril which this harborage of ruffians involved; for though grandees of the distinction of the Duke of Ossuna were involved in it, the main agents, on whose ambition and audacity all depended, sprang from those French, English, Spanish, and Italian mercenaries, who crowded the low quarters of the city, alert for any mischief, and inflamed with the wildest projects of self-aggrandizement by policy and bloodshed. Nothing testifies to the social and political decrepitude of Italy in this period more plainly than the importance which folk like Lodovico Dall’Armi acquired, and the revolutionary force which a man like Jaffier commanded.

Brigands, Pirates, Plague

After collecting these stories, which illustrate the manners of the upper classes in society and prove their dependence upon henchmen paid to subserve lawless passions, it would be interesting to lay bare the life of the common people with equal lucidity. This, however, is a more difficult matter. Statistics of dubious value can indeed be gathered regarding the desolation of villages by brigands, the multitudes destroyed by pestilence and famine, and the inroads of Mediterranean pirates. I propose, therefore, to touch lightly upon these points, and especially to use our records of plague in different Italian districts as tests for contrasting the condition of the people at this epoch with that of the same people in the Middle Ages.

Brigandage, though this was certainly a curse of the first magnitude to Central and Southern Italy, cannot be paralleled, either for the miseries it inflicted, or for the ferocity it stimulated, with the municipal warfare of the twelfth, thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. In those internecine struggles whole cities disappeared, and fertile districts were periodically abandoned to wolves. The bands of an Alfonso Piccolomini or a Sciarra Colonna plundered villages, exacted black mail, and held prisoners for ransom.231 But their barbarities were insignificant, when compared with those commonly perpetrated by wandering companies of adventure before the days of Alberigo da Barbiano; nor did brigands cost Italy so much as the mercenary troops, which, after the Condottiere system had been developed, became a permanent drain upon the resources of the country. The raids of Tunisian and Algerian Corsairs were more seriously mischievous; since the whole sea-board from Nice to Reggio lay open to the ravages of such incarnate fiends as Barbarossa and Dragut, while the Adriatic was infested by Uscocchi, and the natives of the Regno not unfrequently turned pirates in emulation of their persecutors.232

Yet even these injuries may be reckoned light, when we consider what Italy had suffered between 1494 and 1527 from French, Spanish, German and Swiss troops in combat on her soil. The pestilences of the Middle Ages notably the Black Death of 1348, of which Boccaccio has left an immortal description, exceeded in virulence those which depopulated Italian cities during the period of my history. But plagues continued to be frequent; and some of these are so memorable that they require to be particularly noticed. At Venice in 1575-77, a total of about 50,000 persons perished; and in 1630-31, 46,490 were carried off within a space of sixteen months in the city, while the number of those who died at large in the lagoons amounted to 94,235.233 On these two occasions the Venetians commemorated their deliverance by the erection of the Redentore and S. Maria della Salute, churches which now form principal ornaments of the Giudecca and the Grand Canal. Milan was devastated at the same periods by plagues, of which we have detailed accounts in the dispatches of resident Venetian envoys.234 The mortality in the second of these visitations was terrible. Before September 1629, fourteen thousand had succumbed; between May and August 1630, forty-five thousand victims had been added to the tale.235

At Naples in the year 1656, more than fifty thousand perished between May and July; the dead were cast naked into the sea, and the Venetian envoy describes the city as ‘non più città ma spelonca di morti.’236 In July his diary is suddenly interrupted, whether by departure from the stricken town, or more probably by death, we know not. Savoy was scourged by a fearful pestilence in the years 1598-1600. Of this plague we possess a frightfully graphic picture in the same accurate series of the State documents.237 Simeone Contarini, then resident at Savigliano, relates that more than two-thirds of the population in that province had been swept away before the autumn of 1598, and that the evil was spreading far and wide through Piedmont. In Alpignano, a village of some four hundred inhabitants, only two remained. In Val Moriana, forty thousand expired out of a total of seventy thousand. The village of San Giovanni counted but twelve survivors from a population of more than four thousand souls. In May 1599, the inhabitants of Turin were reduced by flight and death to four thousand; and of these there died daily numbers gradually rising through the summer from 50 to 180. The streets were encumbered with unburied corpses, the houses infested by robbers and marauders. Some incidents reported of this plague are ghastly in their horror. The infected were treated with inhuman barbarity, and retorted with savage fury, battering their assailants with the pestiferous bodies of unburied victims.

To the miseries of pestilence and its attendant famine were added lawlessness and license, raging fires, and what was worst of all, the dark suspicion that the sickness had been introduced by malefactors. This belief appears to have taken hold upon the popular mind during the plague of 1598 in Savoy and in Milan.238 Simeone Contarini reports that two men from Geneva confessed to having come with the express purpose of disseminating infection. He also gives curious particulars of two who were burned, and four who were quartered at Turin in 1600 for this offense.239 ‘These spirits of hell,’ as he calls them, indicated a wood in which they declared that they had buried a pestilential liquid intended to be used for smearing houses. The wood was searched, and some jars were discovered. A surgeon at the same epoch confessed to having meant to spread the plague at Mondovi. Other persons, declaring themselves guilty of a similar intention, described a horn filled with poisonous stuff collected from the sores of plague-stricken corpses, which they had concealed outside the walls of Turin. This too was discovered; and these apparent proofs of guilt so infuriated the people that every day some criminals were sacrificed to judicial vengeance.

The name given to the unfortunate creatures accused of this diabolical conspiracy was Untori or the Smearers. The plague of Milan in 1629-30 obtained the name of ‘La Peste degli Untori’ (as that of 1576 had been called ‘La Peste di S. Carlo’), because of the prominent part played in it by the smearers.240 They were popularly supposed to go about the city daubing walls, doors, furniture, choir-stalls, flowers, and articles of food with plague stuff. They scattered powders in the air, or spread them in circles on the pavement. To set a foot upon one of these circles involved certain destruction. Hundreds of such untori were condemned to the most cruel deaths by justice firmly persuaded of their criminality. Exposed to prolonged tortures, the majority confessed palpable absurdities. One woman at Milan said she had killed four thousand people. But, says Pier Antonio Marioni, the Venetian envoy, although tormented to the utmost, none of them were capable of revealing the prime instigators of the plot. So thoroughly convinced was he, together with the whole world, of their guilt, that he never paused to reflect upon the fallacy contained in this remark. The rack-stretched wretches could not reveal their instigators, because there were none; and the acts of which they accused themselves were the delirious figments of their own torture-fretted brains. We possess documents relating to the trial of the Milanese untori, which make it clear that crimes of this sort must have been imaginary. As in cases of witchcraft, the first accusation was founded upon gossip and delation. The judicial proceedings were ruled by prejudice and cruelty. Fear and physical pain extorted confessions and complicated accusations of their neighbors from multitudes of innocent people.241 Indeed the parallel between these unfortunate smearers and no less wretched witches is a close one. I am inclined to think that, as some crazy women fancied they were witches, so some morbid persons of this period in Italy believed in their power of spreading plague, and yielded to the fascination of malignity. Whether such moral mad folk really extended the sphere of the pestilence to any appreciable extent remains a matter for conjecture; and it is quite certain that all but a small percentage of the accused were victims of calumny.

After taking brigandage, piracy, and pestilence into account, the decline of Italy must be attributed to other causes. These I believe to have been the extinction of commercial republics, the decay of free commonwealths, iniquitous systems of taxation, the insane display of wealth by unproductive princes, and the diversion of trade into foreign channels. Florence ceased to be the center of wool manufacture, Venice lost her hold upon the traffic between East and West.242 Stagnation fell like night upon the land, and the population suffered from a general atrophy.

The Proletariate

In what concerns social morality it would be almost impossible to define the position of the proletariate, tillers of the soil, and artisans, at this epoch. These classes vary in their goodness and their badness, in their drawbacks and advantages, from age to age far less than those who mold the character of marked historical periods by culture. They enjoy indeed a greater or a smaller immunity from pressing miseries. They are innocent or criminal in different degrees. But the ground-work of humanity in them remains comparatively unaltered; and their moral qualities, so far as these may be exceptional, reflect the influences of an upper social stratum. It is clear from the histories related in this chapter that members of the lowest classes were continually mixing with the nobles and the gentry in the wild adventures of that troubled century. They, like their betters, were undergoing a tardy metamorphosis from mediaeval to modern conditions, retaining vices of ferocity and grossness, virtues of loyalty and self-reliance, which belonged to earlier periods. They, too, were now infected by the sensuous romance of pietism, the superstitious respect for sacraments and ceremonial observances which had been wrought by the Catholic Revival into ecstatic frenzy. They shared those correlative yearnings after sacrilegious debauchery, felt those allurements of magic arts, indulged that perverted sense of personal honor which constituted psychological disease in the century which we are studying. It can, moreover, be maintained that Italian society at no epoch has been so sharply divided into sections as that of the feudalized races. In this period of one hundred years, from 1530 to 1630, when education was a privilege of the few, and when Church and princes combined to retard intellectual progress, the distinction between noble and plebeian, burgher and plowman, though outwardly defined, was spiritually and morally insignificant. As in the Renaissance, so now, vice trickled downwards from above, infiltrating the masses of the people with its virus. But now, even more decidedly than then, the upper classes displayed obliquities of meanness, baseness, intemperance, cowardice, and brutal violence, which are commonly supposed to characterize villeins.

I had thought to throw some light upon the manners of the Italian proletariate by exploring the archives of trials for witchcraft. But I found that these were less common than in Germany, France, Spain, and England at a corresponding period. In Italy witchcraft, pure and simple, was confined, for the most part, to mountain regions, the Apennines of the Abruzzi, and the Alps of Bergamo and Tyrol.243 In other provinces it was confounded with crimes of poisoning, the procuring of abortion, and the fomentation of conspiracies in private families. These facts speak much for the superior civilization of the Italian people considered as a whole. We discover a common fund of intelligence, vice, superstition, prejudice, enthusiasm, craft, devotion, self-assertion, possessed by the race at large. Only in districts remote from civil life did witchcraft assume those anti-social and repulsive features which are familiar to Northern nations. Elsewhere it penetrated, as a subtle poison, through society, lending its supposed assistance to passions already powerful enough to work their own accomplishment. It existed, not as an endemic disease, a permanent delirium of maddened peasants, but as a weapon in the arsenal of malice on a par with poisons and provocatives to lust.

I might illustrate this position by the relation of a fantastic attempt made against the life of Pope Urban VIII.244

Giacomo Centini, the nephew of Cardinal d’Ascoli, fostered a fixed idea, the motive of his madness being the promotion of his uncle to S. Peter’s Chair. In 1633 he applied to a hermit, who professed profound science in the occult arts and close familiarity with demons. The man, in answer to Giacomo’s inquiries, said that Urban had still many years to live, that the Cardinal d’Ascoli would certainly succeed him, and that he held it in his power to shorten the Pope’s days. He added that a certain Fra Cherubino would be useful, if any matter of grave moment were resolved on; nor did he reject the assistance of other discreet persons. Giacomo, on his side, produced a Fra Domenico; and the four accomplices set at work to destroy the reigning Pope by means of sorcery. They caused a knife to be forged, after the model of the Key of Solomon, and had it inscribed with Cabalistic symbols. A clean virgin was employed to spin hemp into a thread. Then they resorted to a distant room in Giacomo’s palace, where a circle was drawn with the mystic thread, a fire was lighted in the center, and upon it was placed an image of Pope Urban formed of purest wax. The devil was invoked to appear and answer whether Urban had deceased this life after the melting of the image. No infernal visitor responded to the call; and the hermit accounted for this failure by suggesting that some murder had been committed in the palace. As things went at that period, this excuse was by no means feeble, if only the audience, bent on unholy invocation of the power of evil, would accept it as sufficient. Probably more than one murder had taken place there, of which the owner was dimly conscious. The psychological curiosity to note is that avowed malefactors reckoned purity an essential element in their nefarious practice. They tried once more in a vineyard, under the open heavens at night. But no demon issued from the darkness, and the hermit laid this second mischance to the score of bad weather. Giacomo was incapable of holding his tongue. He talked about his undertaking to the neighbors, and promised to make them all Cardinals when he should become the Papal nephew. Meanwhile he pressed the hermit forward on the path of folly; and this man, driven to his wits’ end for a device, said that they must find seven priests together, one of whom should be assassinated to enforce the spell. It was natural, while the countryside was being raked for seven convenient priests by such a tattler as Giacomo, that suspicions should be generated in the people. Information reached Rome, in consequence of which the persons implicated in this idiotic plot were conveyed thither and given over to the mercies of the Holy Office. The upshot of their trial was that Giacomo lost his head, while the hermit and Fra Cherubino were burned alive, and Fra Domenico went to the galleys for life. Several other men involved in the process received punishments of considerable severity. It must be added in conclusion that the whole story rests upon the testimony of Inquisitorial archives, and that the real method of Giacomo Centini’s apparent madness yet remains to be investigated. The few facts that we know about him, from his behavior on the scaffold and a letter he wrote his wife, prejudice me in his favor.

Enough, and more than enough, perhaps, has been collected in this chapter, to throw light upon the manners of Italians during the Counter-Reformation. It would have been easy to repeat the story of the Countess of Cellant and her murdered lovers, or of the Duchess of Amalfi strangled by her brothers for a marriage below her station. The massacres committed by the Raspanti in Ravenna would furnish a whole series of illustrative crimes. From the deeds of Alfonso Piccolomini, Sciarra and Fabrizio Colonna details sufficient to fill a volume with records of atrocious savagery could be drawn. The single episode of Elena Campireali, who plighted her troth to a bandit, became Abbess of the Convent at Castro, intrigued with a bishop, and killed herself for shame on the return of her first lover, would epitomize in one drama all the principal features of this social discord. The dreadful tale of the Baron of Montebello might be told again, who assaulted the castle of the Marquis of Pratidattolo, and, by the connivance of a sister whom he subsequently married, murdered the Marquis with his mother, children, and relatives. The hunted life of Alessandro Antelminelli, pursued through all the States of Europe by assassins, could be used to exemplify the miseries of proscribed exiles. But what is the use of multiplying instances, when every pedigree in Litta, every chronicle of the time, every history of the most insignificant township, swarms with evidence to the same purpose? We need not adopt the opinion that society had greatly altered for the worse. We must rather decide that mediaeval ferocity survived throughout the whole of that period which witnessed the Catholic Revival, and that the piety which distinguished it was not influential in curbing vehement passions.

The conclusions to be drawn from the facts before us seem to be in general these. The link between government and governed in Italy had snapped. The social bond was broken, and the constituents that form a nation were pursuing divers aims. On the one hand stood Popes and princes, founding their claims to absolute authority upon titles that had slight rational or national validity. These potentates were ill-combined among themselves, and mutually jealous. On the other side were ranged disruptive forces of the most heterogeneous kinds—remnants from antique party-warfare, fragments of obsolete domestic feuds, new strivings after freer life in mentally down-trodden populations, blending with crime and misery and want and profligacy to compose an opposition which exasperated despotism. These anarchical conditions were due in large measure to the troubles caused by foreign campaigns of invasion. They were also due to the Spanish type of manners imposed upon the ruling classes, which the native genius accepted with fraudulent intelligence, and to which it adapted itself by artifice. We must further reckon the division between cultured and uncultured people, which humanism had effected, and which subsisted after the benefits conferred by humanism had been withdrawn from the race. The retirement of the commercial aristocracy from trade, and their assumption of princely indolence in this period of political stagnation, was another factor of importance. But the truest cause of Italian retrogression towards barbarism must finally be discerned in the sharp check given to intellectual evolution by the repressive forces of the Counter-Reformation.

END OF THE FIRST VOLUME

Footnotes

1 It is significant for the future of Italy that both the ladies who drew up this agreement were connected with Savoy. Louise, Duchess of Angoulême, was a daughter of the house. Margaret, daughter of Maximilian, was Duchess Dowager of Savoy.

2 In what follows regarding Charles V. at Bologna I am greatly indebted to Giordani’s laboriously compiled volume: Della Venuta e Dimora in Bologna del Sommo Pont. Clemente VII. etc. (Bologna, 1832).

3 See Ren. in It., vol. v. p. 357.

4 See Ranke, vol. i. p. 153, note.

5 See Ren. in It. vol. v. p. 289.

6 See, for instance, temp. Henri IV., Sarpi’s Letters, vol. i. p. 233.

7 I may here state that I intend to use this term Counter-Reformation to denote the reform of the Catholic Church, which was stimulated by the German Reformation, and which, when the Council of Trent had fixed the dogmas and discipline of Latin Christianity, enabled the Papacy to assume a militant policy in Europe, whereby it regained a large portion of the provinces, that had previously lapsed to Lutheran and Calvinistic dissent.

8 With regard to Germany, see Mr. T. S. Perry’s acute and philosophical study, entitled From Opitz to Lessing (Boston).

9 These eight reigns cover a space of time from 1534 to 1605.

10 See Berti’s Vita di G. Bruno, pp. 105-108.

11 This maxim is ascribed to the materialistic philosopher Cremonini.

12 C. Calcagnini Opera, p. 195. I am indebted for the above version to McCrie’s Reformation in Italy, p. 183.

13 Though as many as 40,000 copies were published, this book was so successfully stamped out that it seemed to be irrecoverably lost. The library of St. John’s College at Cambridge, however, contains two Italian copies and one French copy. That of Laibach possesses an Italian and a Croat version. Cantù, Gli Eretici, vol. i. p. 360.

14 It should be observed, however, that Luther rejected the article on justification, and that Caraffa in Rome used his influence to prevent its acceptance by Paul III.

15 See Bruno’s Cena delle Ceneri, ed. Wagner, vol. i. p. 133, for a humorous story illustrative of the state of things ensuing among the lower Italian classes.

16 Paul IV. as Pope was feeble compared with his predecessors, Julius II. and Leo X.; the Guises, on whom he relied for resuscitating the old French party in the South, were but half-successful adventurers, mere shadows of the Angevine invaders whom they professed to represent.

17 The best account of the Councils will be found in Professor Creighton’s admirable History of the Papacy during the Reformation, 2 vols. Longmans.

18 See above, p. 2, for the special sense in which I apply the word federation to Italy before 1530, and to Europe at large in the modern period.

19 The first official opening of the Council at Trent was in November 1542, by Cardinals Pole and Morone as Legates. It was adjourned in July, 1543, on account of insufficient attendance. When it again opened in 1545, Pole reappeared as Legate. With him were associated two future Popes, Giov. Maria del Monte (Julius III.), and Marcello Cervini (Marcellus II.) The first session of the Council took place in December, 1545, four Cardinals, four Archbishops, twenty-one Bishops, and five Generals of Orders attending. Among these were only five Spanish and two French prelates; no German, unless we count Cristoforo Madrazzo, the Cardinal Bishop of Trent, as one. No Protestants appeared; for Paul III. had successfully opposed their ultimatum, which demanded that final appeal on all debated points should be made to the sole authority of Holy Scripture.

20 Throughout the sessions of the Council, Spanish, French, and German representatives, whether fathers or ambassadors, maintained the theory of Papal subjection to conciliar authority. The Spanish and French were unanimous in zeal for episcopal independence. The French and German were united in a wish to favor Protestants by reasonable concessions. Thus the Papal supremacy had to face serious antagonism, which it eventually conquered by the numerical preponderance of the Italian prelates, by the energy of the Jesuits, by diplomatic intrigues, and by manipulation of discords in the opposition. Though the Spanish fathers held with the French and German on the points of episcopal independence and conciliar authority, they disagreed whenever it became a question of compromise with Protestants upon details of dogma or ritual. The Papal Court persuaded the Catholic sovereigns of Spain and France, and the Emperor, that episcopal independence would be dangerous to their own prerogatives; and at every inconvenient turn in affairs, it was made clear that Catholic sovereigns, threatened by the Protestant revolution, could not afford to separate their cause from that of the Pope.

21 See Sarpi, p. 249.

22 Charles, at this juncture, was checkmated by Paul through his own inability to dispense with the Pope’s co-operation as chief of the Catholic Church. So long as he opposed the Reformation, it was impossible for him to assume an attitude of violent hostility to Rome.

23 During the brief and unimportant sessions at Bologna, Jesuit influences began to make themselves decidedly felt in the Council, where Lainez and Salmeron attended as Theologians of the Papal See. Up to this time the Dominicans had shaped decrees. Dogmatic orthodoxy was secured by their means. Now the Jesuits were to fight and win the battle of Papal Supremacy.

24 Sarpi, quoted in his Life by Fra Fulgenzio, p. 83, says Paul called his Grisons mercenaries ‘Angels sent from Heaven.’

25 New men—and Popes were always novi homines—are compelled to take this course, and suffer when they take it. We might compare their difficulties with those which hampered Napoleon when he aspired to the Imperial tyranny over French conquests in Europe.

26 Pallavicini, in his history of the Council of Trent (Lib. xiv. ix. 5), specially commends Paul’s zeal for the Holy Office:—‘Fra esse d’eterna lode lo fa degno il tribunal dell’inquisizione, che dal zelo di lui e prima in autorità di consigliero e poscia in podestà di principe riconosce il presente suo vigor nell’Italia, e dal quale riconosce l’Italia la sua conservata integrità della fede: e per quest’ opera salutare egli rimane ora tanto più benemerito ed onorabile quantao più allora ne fu mal rimerilato e disonorato.’

27 See Luigi Mocenigo in Rel. degli Amb. Veneti, vol. x. p. 25.

28 ‘Roma a paragone delli tempi degli altri pontefici si poteva riputar come un onesto monasterio di religiosi’ (op. cit. p. 41).

29 In my Sketches and Studies in Italy I have narrated the romantic history of this filibuster.

30 Soranzo: Alberi, vol. x. p. 67. Pius IV. adopted the arms of the Florentine Medici, and spent 30,000 scudi on carving them about through Rome. See P. Tiepolo, Ib. p. 174.

31 ‘Veramente quasi in ogni parte si può chiamare il rovescio dell’ altro’ (op. cit. p. 50).

32 Luigi Mocenigo says of him that Pius ‘averlo per un angelo di paradiso, e adoperandolo per consiglio in tutte le sue cose importanti.’ Alberi, vol. x. p. 40. The case made out against Morone during the pontificate of Paul IV. may be studied in Cantù, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 171-192, together with his defence in full. It turned mainly on these articles:—unsound opinions regarding justification by faith, salvation by Christ’s blood, good works, invocation of saints, reliques; dissemination of the famous book on the Benefits of Christ’s Death; practice with heretics. He was imprisoned in the Castle of S. Angelo from June, 1557 till August, 1559. Suspicions no doubt fell on him through his friendship with several of the moderate reformers, and from the fact that his diocese of Modena was a nest of liberal thinkers—the Grillenzoni, Castelvetro, Filippo Valentini, Faloppio, Camillo Molza, Francesco da Porto, Egidio Foscarari, and others, all of whom are described by Cantù, op. cit. Disc, xxviii. The charges brought against these persons prove at once the mainly speculative and innocuous character of Italian heresy, and the implacable enmity which a Pope of Caraffa’s stamp exercised against the slightest shadow of heterodoxy.

33 Soranzo, op. cit. p. 75, says: ‘Con li principi tiene modo affatto contrario al suo predecessore; perchè mentre quello usava dire, il grado dei pontefici esser per mettersi sotto i piedi gl’imperatori e i re, questo dice che senza l’autorità dei principi non si può conservare quella dei pontefici.’

34 Soranzo, op. cit. p. 74.

35 Soranzo, op. cit. p. 71, says: ‘II marchese suo fratello con la moglie gli diede il cappello, e con la morte il papato.’

36 Mocenigo, op. cit. p. 52. Soranzo, op. cit. p. 93.

37 Margherita Medici, sister of the Pope, had married Gilberto Borromeo.

38 See Mocenigo, op. cit. p. 53. Soranzo, op. cit. p. 91.

39 Gia. Soranzo (op. cit. p. 133) says of Carlo Borromeo, ‘ch’egli solo faccia più profitto nella Corte di Roma che tutti i decreti del Concilio insieme.’

40 See Sarpi, vol. ii. pp. 43, 44.

41 Cardinal Puteo was soon replaced by a Papal nephew, the Cardinal d’Altemps (Mark of Hohen Embs).

42 At the first session there were five Cardinals, one hundred and four prelates, including Patriarchs, Archbishops and Bishops, four Abbots, and four Generals of Orders. These were all Italians, Spaniards and Portuguese. And yet this Conciliabulum called itself a General Council, inspired by the Holy Ghost to legislate for the whole of Latin and Teutonic Christianity.

43 See Sarpi, vol. ii. p. 87.

44 He reached Trent, November 13, 1562, with eighteen Bishops, and three Abbots of France, charged by Charles IX. to demand purified ritual, reformed discipline of clergy, use of vernacular in church services, and finally, if possible, the marriage of the clergy.

45 The confusion at Trent in the spring of 1563 is thus described by the Bishop of Alife: ‘Methinks Antichrist has come, so greatly confounded are the perturbations of the holy Fathers here.’ Phillipson, p. 525.

46 When Morone set out, he told the Venetian envoy in Rome that he was going on a forlorn hope. ‘L’illmo Morone, quando partì per il Concilio, mi disse che andava a cura disperata e che nulla speserat della religione Cattolica.’ Soranzo, op. cit. p. 82. The Jesuit Canisius, by his influence with Ferdinand, secured the success of Morone’s diplomacy.

47 Sarpi says that Don Luigi resided in the lodgings of Count Federigo Borromeo, a deceased nephew of the Pope.

48 Yet the Spanish bishops fought to the end, under the leadership of their chief Guerrero, for the principle of conciliar independence and the episcopal prerogatives. ‘We had better not have come here, than be forced to stand by as witnesses,’ says the Bishop of Orense. Phillipson, p. 577.

49 The vague reference of all decrees passed by the Tridentine Council to the Pope for interpretation enabled him and his successors to manipulate them as they chose. It therefore happened, as Sarpi says (‘Tratt. delle Mat. Ben.’ Opere, vol. iv. p. 161), that no reform, with regard to the tenure of benefices, residence, pluralism, etc., which the Council had decided, was adopted without qualifying expedients which neutralized its spirit. If the continuance of benefices in commendam ceased, the device of pensions upon benefices was substituted; and a thousand pretexts put colossal fortunes extracted from Church property, now as before, into the hands of Papal nephews. Witness the contrivances whereby Cardinal Scipione Borghese enriched himself in the Papacy of Paul V. The Council had decreed the residence of bishops in their sees; but it had reserved to the Pope a power of dispensation; so that those whom he chose to exile from Rome were bound to reside, and those whom he desired to have about him were released from this obligation. On each and all delicate points the Papacy was more autocratic after than before the Council. One of Sarpi’s letters (vol. i. p. 371) to Jacques Leschassier, dated December 22, 1609, should be studied by those who wish to penetrate the ‘reserve ed altre arcane arti,’ the ‘renunzie’, ‘pensioni’ and ‘altri stratagemmi,’ by means of which the Papal Curia, during the half-century after the Tridentine Council, managed to evade its decrees, and to get such control over Church property in Italy that ‘out of 500 benefices not one is conferred legally.’ Compare the passage in the ‘Trattato delle Materie Beneficiarie,’ p. 163. There Sarpi says that five-sixths of Italian benefices are at the Pope’s disposal, and that there is good reason to suppose that he will acquire the remaining sixth.

50 Lettere, vol. ii. p. 167.

51 This does not mean that the Spanish crown had not a powerful voice in the elections. See the history of the conclaves which elected Urban VII., Gregory XIV., Innocent IX., Clement VIII., in Ranke, vol. ii. pp. 31-39. Yet it was noticed by those close observers, the Venetian envoys, that France and Spain had abandoned their former policy of subsidizing the Cardinals who adhered to their respective factions.

52 See Mocenigo, op. cit. p. 35; Aretino’s Dialogo della Corte di Roma; and the private history of the Farnesi.

53 Giov. Carraro and Lor. Priuli, op. cit. pp. 275, 306.

54 Alberi, vol. x. pp. 35, 83, 277.

55 Mocenigo’s computation, op. cit. p. 29.

56 Ibid. p. 31.

57 The true history of the Cenci, as written by Bertolotti, throws light upon these points.

58 Mocenigo, op. cit. p. 38.

59 Giac. Soranzo, op. cit. pp. 131-136

60 Soranzo, op. cit. pp. 136-138.

61 Op. cit. p. 171.

62 Mutinelli, Storia Arcana, etc., vol. i. pp. 51-54.

63 Assuming the population of Rome to have been about 90,000 at that date, this number appears incredible. Yet we have it on the best of all evidences, that of a resident Venetian envoy.

64 Tiepolo, op. cit. p. 172.

65 Paolo Tiepolo, op. cit. p. 312.

66 Ibid. p. 214.

67 The Venetians, when they inscribed his name upon the Libro d’Oro, called him ‘a near relative of his Holiness.’

68 This lady was a sister of the Count of Santa Fiora. For a detailed account of the wedding, see Mutinelli, Stor. arc. vol. i. p. 112.

69 Tiepolo, op. cit. pp. 213, 219—221, 263, 266.

70 Giov. Corraro, op. cit. p. 277.

71 See Giov. Gritti, op. cit. p. 333.

72 Giov. Gritti, op. cit. p. 337.

73 History of the Popes, Book iv. section I.

74 Giacomo Buoncompagno was born while Gregory XIII. was still a layman and a lawyer.

75 Sarpi writes: ‘In my times Pius V., during five years, accumulated 25,000 ducats for the Cardinal nephew; Gregory XIII., in thirteen years, 30,000 for one nephew, and 20,000 for another; Sixtus V., for his only nephew, 9,000; Clement VIII., in thirteen years, for one nephew, 8,000, and for the other, 3,000; and this Pope, Paul V., in four years, for one nephew alone, 40,000. To what depths are we destined to fall in the future?’ (Lettere, vol. i. p. 281). This final question was justified by the event; for, after the Borghesi, came the Ludovisi and Barberini, whose accumulations equalled, if they did not surpass, those of any antecedent Papal families.

76 The details may be examined in Ranke, vol. ii. pp. 303-311.

77 Sarpi’s Letters supply some details relating to Paul V.’s nepotism. He describes the pleasure which this Pope took on one day of each week in washing his hands in the gold of the Datatario and the Camera (vol. i. p. 281), and says of him, ‘attende solo a far danari’ (vol. ii. p. 237). When Paul gave his nephew Scipione the Abbey of Vangadizza, with 12,000 ducats a year, Sarpi computed that the Cardinal held about 100,000 ducats of ecclesiastical benefices (vol. i. p. 219). When the Archbishopric of Bologna, worth over 16,000 ducats a year, fell vacant in 1610, Paul gave this to Scipione, who held it a short time without residence, and then abandoned it to Alessandro Ludovisi retaining all its revenues, with the exception of 2,000 ducats, for himself as a pension (vol. ii. pp. 158, 300). In the year 1610 Sarpi notices the purchase of Sulmona and other fiefs by Paul for his family, at the expenditure of 160,000 ducats (vol. ii. p. 70). In another place he speaks of another sum of 100,000 spent upon the same object (vol. i. p. 249, note). Well might he exclaim, ‘Il pontefice e attesa ad arrichir la sua casa’ (vol. i. p. 294).

78 See Cantù, Gli Eretici d’Italia, vol. i. Discorso 5, and the notes appended to it, for Frederick’s edicts and letters to Gregory IX. upon this matter of heresy. The Emperor treats of Heretica Pravitas as a crime against society, and such, indeed, it then appeared according to the mediaeval ideal of Christendom united under Church and Empire. Yet Frederick himself, it will be remembered, died under the ban of the Church, and was placed by Dante among the heresiarchs in the tenth circle of Hell. We now regard him justly as one of the precursors of the Renaissance. But at the beginning of his reign, in his peculiar attitude of Holy Roman Emperor, he had to proceed with rigor against free-thinkers in religion. They were foes to the mediseval order, of which he was the secular head.

79 Sarpi, ‘Discorso dell’Origine,’ etc. Opere, vol. iv. p. 6.

80 See Christie’s Etienne Dolet, chapter 21.

81 Visitors to Milan must have been struck with the equestrian statue to the Podestà Oldrado da Trezzeno in the Piazza de’Mercanti. Underneath it runs an epitaph containing among the praises of this man: Catharos ut debuit uxit. An Archbishop of Milan of the same period (middle of the thirteenth century), Enrico di Settala, is also praised upon his epitaph because jugulavit haereses. See Cantù, Gli Eretici d Italia, vol. i. p. 108.

82 Sarpi estimates the number of victims in the Netherlands during the reign of Charles V. at 50,000; Grotius at 100,000. In the reign of Philip II. perhaps another 25,000 were sacrificed. Motley (Rise of the Dutch Republic, vol. ii. p. 155) tells how in February 1568 a sentence of the Holy Office, confirmed by royal proclamation, condemned all the inhabitants of the Netherlands, some three millions of souls, with a few specially excepted persons, to death. It was customary to burn the men and bury the women alive. In considering this institution as a whole, we must bear in mind that it was extended to Mexico, Lima, Carthagena, the Indies, Sicily, Sardinia, Oran, Malta. Of the working of the Holy Office in the Spanish and Portuguese colonies we possess but few authentic records. The Histoire des Inquisitions of Joseph Lavallée (Paris, 1809) may, however, be consulted. In vol. ii. pp. 5-9 of this work there is a brief account of the Inquisition at Goa written by one Pyrard; and pp. 45-157 extend the singularly detailed narrative of a Frenchman, Dellon, imprisoned in its dungeons. Some curious circumstances respecting delation, prison life, and autos da fé are here minutely recorded.

83 See Lavallée, Histoire des Inquisitions, vol. ii. pp. 341-361, for the translation of a process instituted in 1570 against a Mauresque female slave. Suspected of being a disguised infidel, she was exposed to the temptations of a Moorish spy, and convicted mainly on the evidence furnished by certain Mussulman habits to which she adhered. Llorente reports a similar specimen case, vol. i. p. 442. The culprit was a tinker aged 71, accused in 1528 of abstaining from pork and wine, and using certain ablutions. He defended himself by pleading that, having been converted at the age of 45, it did not suit his taste to eat pork or drink wine, and that his trade obliged him to maintain cleanliness by frequent washing. He was finally condemned to carry a candle at an auto da fé in sign of penitence, and to pay four ducats, the costs of his trial. His detention lasted from September, 1529, till December 18, 1530.

84 The Supreme Council forbade the repetition of torture; but this hypocritical law was evaded in practice by declaring that the torture had been suspended. Llorente, vol. i. p. 307.

85 Llorente, in his introduction to the History of the Inquisition, gives a long list of illustrious Spanish victims.

86 See Llorente, vol. i. p. 349, for their outrages on women.

87 For the history of Lucero’s tyranny, read Llorente, vol. i. pp. 345-353. When at last he had to be deposed, it was not to a dungeon or the scaffold, but to his bishopric of Almeria that this miscreant was relegated.

88 Llorente, vol. i. p. 229. The basis for these and following calculations is explained ib. pp. 272-281.

89 Ibid. vol. i. p. 263.

90 Llorente, p. 341.

91 Ibid. p. 360.

92 Llorente, p. 406.

93 Ib. p. 407.

94 I know that Llorente’s calculations have been disputed: as, for instance, in some minor details by Prescott (Ferd. and Isab. vol. iii. p. 492). The truth is that no data now exist for forming a correct census of the victims of the Spanish Moloch; and Llorente, though he writes with the moderation of evident sincerity, and though he had access to the archives of the Inquisition, does not profess to do more than give an estimate based upon certain fixed data. However, it signifies but little whether we reckon by thousands or by fifteen hundreds. That foul monster spawned in the unholy embracements of perverted religion with purblind despotism cannot be defended by discounting five or even ten per cent. Let its apologists write for every 1000 of Llorente 100, and for every 100 of Llorente 10, and our position will remain unaltered. The Jesuit historian of Spain, Mariana, records the burning-of 2000 persons in Andalusia alone in 1482. Bernaldez mentions 700 burned in the one town of Seville between 1482 and 1489. An inscription carved above the portals of the Holy Office in Seville stated that about 1000 had been burned between 1492 and 1524.

95 Vol. ii. p. 399.

96 Naples and Milan passionately and successfully opposed its introduction by the Spanish viceroys. But it ruled in Sicily and Sardinia.

97 McCrie, p. 186.

98 Mutinelli, Storia Arcana, vol. i. p. 79.

99 McCrie, p. 272.

100 Mutinelli’s Storia Arcana, etc. vol. i., is the source from which I have drawn the details given above.

101 It is singular that only one contemporary writes from Rome about Bruno’s execution in 1600; whence, I think, we may infer that such events were too common to excite much attention.

102 The main facts about these men may be found in Cantù’s Gli Eretici d’Italia, vol. ii. This work is written in no spirit of sympathy with Reformers. But it is superior in learning and impartiality to McCrie’s.

103 For the repressive measures used at Lucca, see Archivio Storico, vol. x. pp. 162-185. They include the prohibition of books, regulation of the religious observances of Lucchese citizens abroad in France or Flanders, and proscription of certain heretics, with whom all intercourse was forbidden.

104 An eye-witness gives a heart-rending account of these persecutions: sixty thrown from the tower of Guardia, eighty-eight butchered like beasts in one day at Montalto, seven burned alive, one hundred old women tortured and then slaughtered. Arch. Stor., vol. ix. pp. 193-195.

105 McCrie, op. cit. p. 232-236. The five men were Giulio Gherlandi of Spresian, near Treviso (executed in 1562), Antonio Rizzetta of Vicenza (in 1566), Francesco Sega of Rovigo (sentenced in 1566), Francesco Spinola of Milan (in 1567), and Fra Baldo Lupatino (1556). McCrie bases his report upon the Histoire des Martyrs (Genève, 1597) and De Porta’s Historia Reformationis Rhaeticarum Ecclesiarum. Thinking these sources somewhat suspicious, I applied to my friend Mr. H.F. Brown, whose researches in the Venetian archives are becoming known to students of Italian history. He tells me that all the above cases, except that of Spinola, exist in the Frari. Lupatino was condemned as a Lutheran; the others as Anabaptists. In passing sentence on Lupatino, the Chief Inquisitor remarked that he could not condemn him to death by fire in Venice, but must consign him to a watery grave. This is characteristic of Venetian state policy. It appears that, of the above-named persons, Sega, though sentenced to death by drowning, recanted at the last moment, saying, ‘Non voglio esser negato, ma voglio redirmi et morir buon Christiano.’ Mr. Brown adds that there is nothing in the archives to prove that he was executed; but there is also nothing to show that his sentence was commuted. Two other persons involved in this trial, viz. Nic. Bucello of Padua and Alessio of Bellinzona, upon recantation, were subjected to public penances and confessions for different terms of years. Sega’s fate must, therefore, be considered doubtful; since the fact that no commutation of sentence is on record lends some weight to the hypothesis that he withdrew his recantation, and submitted to martyrdom. I will close this note by expressing my hope that Mr. Brown, who is already engaged upon the papers of the Venetian Holy Office, will make them shortly the subject of a special publication. Considering how rare are the full and authentic records of any Inquisition, this would be of incalculable value for students of history. The series of trials in the Frari extends from 1541 to 1794, embracing 1562 processi for the sixteenth century, 1469 for the seventeenth, 541 for the eighteenth, and 25 of no date. Nearly all the towns and districts of the Venetian State are involved.

106 See Sarpi’s ‘Discourse on the Inquisition,’ Opere, vol. iv.

107 I owe to Mr. H.F. Brown details about the register of criminals condemned by the Holy Office, which substantiate my statement regarding the various types of cases in its jurisdiction.

108 The document in question, prepared for the use of the Signoria, exists in MS. in the Marcian Library, Misc. Eccl. et Civ. Class. VII. Cod. MDCCLXI.

109 This edict is dated August 24, 1596.

110 This will be apparent when I come to treat of Marino and Tassoni.

111 Llorente, vol. i. p. 281.

112 Christie’s Etienne Dolet, pp. 220-24.

113 Llorente, vol. i. p. 463.

114 In the year 1548. The MS. cited above (p. 192) mentions another Index of the Venetian Holy Office published in 1554.

115 Sarpi, Ist. del Conc. Tial, vol. ii..p. 90.

116 In his Oratio pro se ipso ad Senenses. Printed by Gryphius at Lyons in 1552.

117 1st. del Conc. Trid. vol. ii. p. 91. The passage deserves to be Paul IV. designated in his transcribed. ‘Sotto colore di fede e religione sono vietati con la medesima severità e dannati gli autori de’libri da’quali l’autorità del principe e magistrati temporali è difesa dalle usurpazioni ecclesiastiche; dove l’autorità de’ Concilj è de’Vescovi è difesa dalle usurpazioni della Corte Romana; dove le ipocrisie o tirannidi con le quali sotto pretesto di religione il popolo è ingannato o violentato sono manifestate. In somma non fu mai trovato più bell’arcano per adoperare la religione a far gli uomini insensati.’

118 Discorso Sopra l’Inq. vol. iv. p. 54.

119 These rules form the Preface to modern editions of the Index. The one I use is dated Naples, 1862. They are also printed in vol. iv. of Sarpi’s works.

120 Paulus Manutius Aldus printed this Index at Venice in 1564.

121 Dejob, De l’Influence, etc. p. 60.

122 Id. op. cit. p. 76.

123 Id. op. cit. p. 78.

124 Dejob, op. cit. p. 74.

125 Id. op. cit. p. 54.

126 Discorso dell’Origine, etc. dell’Inquisizione,’ Opp. vol. iv. p. 34.

127 Mutinelli, Storia Arcana, vol. i. p. 277.

128 Dejob, op. cit. pp. 53-57.

129 Id. op. cit. p. 75.

130 Sarpi’s Letters abound in useful information on this topic. Writing to French correspondents, he complains weekly of the impossibility even in Venice of obtaining books. See, for instance, Lettere, vol. i. pp. 286, 287, 360, vol. ii. p. 13. In one passage he says that the importation of books into Italy is impeded at Innsbruck, Trento, and throughout the Tyrolese frontiers (vol. i. p. 74). In another he warns his friends not to send them concealed in merchandise, since they will fall under so many eyes in the custom-houses and lazzaretti (vol. i. p. 303).

131 It was usual at this epoch to send Protestant publications from beyond the Alps in bales of cotton or other goods. This appears from the Lucchese proclamations against heresy published in Arch. Stor. vol. x.

132 I may mention that having occasion to consult Savonarola’s works in the Public Library of Perugia, which has a fairly good collection of them, I found them useless for purposes of study by reason of these erasures and Burke-plasters.

133 Dejob, op. cit. p. 43.

134 Dejob, op. cit. p. 50. Also his Muret, pp. 223-227.

135 Dejob, De l’Influence, p. 49.

136 Id. op. cit. pp. 96-98.

137 This very interesting and valuable letter is printed by Dejob in the work I have so often cited, p. 391.

138 See Dejob’s Life of Muret, pp. 231, 238, 274, 320.

139 Op. cit. pp. 262, 481.

140 Dejob, Marc Antoine Muret, p. 349.

141 The original is printed by Dejob, Marc Antoine Muret, pp. 487-489.

142 The original letter, printed by Dejob, op. cit. p. 491, is signed by Giustiniano Finetti, who seems to have been a professor of medicine in the Roman University. His son, a youth of sixteen, complained that the students had demanded and obtained leave to recite a certain ‘lettione che era carnavalesca d’ano et de priapo,’ adding that they were in the habit of holding debates upon the thesis that (LATIN: ‘res sodcae erant praeferendae veneri naturali, et reprobabant rem veneream cum feminis ac audabant masturbationem.’) The dialogue which the students obtained leave publicly to recite was probably similar to one that might still be heard some years ago in spring upon the quays of Naples, and which appeared to have descended from immemorial antiquity.

143 The Latin text is printed in Renouard’s Imprimerie des Aldes, p. 473.

144 As Sarpi says: ‘Of a truth the extraordinary rigor with which books are hunted out for extirpation, shows how vigorous is the light of that lantern which they have resolved to extinguish.’ Lettere, vol. i. p. 328.

145 See Renouard, op. cit. pp. 442-459, for Paulus Manutius’s life at Rome.

146 op. cit. pp. 184-216.

147 Sarpi’s Works, vol. iv. p. 4.

148 Sarpi, Discorso, vol. iv. p. 25, on Bellarmino’s doctrine. Sarpi’s Letters, vol. i. pp. 138, 243. Sarpi says that he and Gillot had both had their portraits painted in a picture of Hell and shown to the common folk as foredoomed to eternal fire, because they opposed doctrines of Papal omnipotence. Ibid. p. 151.

149 On this point, again, Sarpi’s Letters furnish valuable details. He frequently remarks that a general order had been issued by the Congregation of the Index to suppress all books against the writings of Baronius, who was treated as a saint, vol. i. pp. 3, 147, ii. p. 35. He relates how the Jesuits had procured the destruction of a book written to uphold aristocracy in states, without touching upon ecclesiastical questions, as being unfavorable to their theories of absolutism (vol. i. p. 122). He tells the story of a confessor who refused the sacraments to a nobleman, because he owned a treatise written by Quirino in defense of the Venetian prerogatives (vol. i. p. 113). He refers to the suppression of James I.’s Apologia and De Thou’s Histories (vol. i. pp. 286, 287, 383).

150 In the Treatise on the Inquisition, Opere, vol. iv. p. 53. Sarpi, in a passage of his Letters (vol. ii. p. 163), points out why the secular authorities were ill fitted to retaliate in kind, upon these Papal proscriptions.

151 See Dejob, De l’Influence, etc. Chapter III.

152 Index, Naples, Pelella, 1862, p. 87.

153 This treatment of Ariosto is typical. Men of not over scrupulous nicety may question whether his Comedies are altogether wholesome reading. But not even a Puritan could find fault with his Satires on the score of their morality. Yet Rome sanctioned the Comedies and forbade the Satires.

154 Curious details on this topic are supplied by Dejob, op. cit. pp. 179-181, and p. 184.

155 Any correspondence with heretics was accounted sufficient to implicate an Italian in the charge of heresy. Sarpi’s Letters are full of matter on this point. He always used Cipher, which he frequently changed, addressed his letters under feigned names, and finally resolved on writing in his own hand to no heretic. See Lettere, vol. ii. pp. 2, 151, 242, 248, 437. See also what Dejob relates about the timidity of Muretus, Muret, pp. 229-231.

156 ‘Treatise on the Inquisition,’ Opere, vol. iv. p. 45.

157 For Sarpi’s use of this phrase see his Lettere, vol. ii. pp. 72, 80, 92. He clearly recognized the solidarity between the Jesuits and Spain. ‘The Jesuit is no more separable from the Spaniard than the accident from the substance.’ ‘The Spaniard without the Jesuit is not worth more than lettuce without oil.’ ‘For the Jesuits to deceive Spain, would be tantamount to deceiving themselves.’ Ibid. vol. i. pp. 203, 384, vol. ii. p. 48. Compare passages in vol. i. pp. 184, 189. He only perceived a difference in the degrees of their noxiousness to Europe. Thus, ‘the worst Spaniard is better than the least bad of the Jesuits’ (vol. i. p. 212).

158 Study of the Jesuits must be founded on Institutum Societatis Jesu, 7 vols. Avenione; Orlandino, Hist. Soc. Jesu; Crétineau-Joly, Histoire de la Compagnie de Jésus; Ribadaneira, Vita Ignatii; Genelli’s Life of Ignatius in German, or the French translation; the Jesuit work, Imago Primi Saeculi; Ranke’s account in his History of the Popes, and the three chapters assigned to this subject in Philippson’s La Contre-Révolution Religieuse. The latter will be found a most valuable summary.

159 These phrases occur in the Deliberatio primorum patrum.

160 Sarpi, though he expressed an opinion that the Jesuits of his day had departed from the spirit of their founders, spoke thus of Loyola’s worldly aims (Lettere, vol. i. p 224): ‘Even Father Ignatius, Founder of the Company, as his biography attests, based himself in such wise upon human interest as though there were none divine to think about.’

161 See Philippson, op. cit. pp. 61, 62.

162 It was not till the epoch of Maria de’Medici’s Regency that the Jesuits obtained firm hold on France.

163 The letter addressed by Ignatius to the Portuguese Jesuits, March 22, 1553, on the virtue of obedience, the Constitutions and the glosses on them called Declarations, and the last chapter of the Exercitia, furnish the above sentences. See, too, Philippson, op. cit. pp. 60, 120-124.

164 Read in the Exercitia (Inst. Jesu, vol. iv. p. 167-173) the Rules for right accord with the Orthodox Church. What follows above is taken from that chapter.

[165] Exercitia, ibid. p. 171. In this spirit a Jesuit of the present century writing on astronomy develops the heliocentric theory while he professes his submission to the geocentric theory as maintained by the Church.

166 Inst. Soc. Jesu, vol. iv. The same volume contains the Directorium, or rules for the use of the Exercitia.

167 Philippson, op. cit. p. 142.

168 Quinet calculates that at the close of the sixteenth century there were twenty-one houses of the professed (incapable of owning property) to 293 colleges (free from this inability).

169 A book with this title was published in 1612 at Cracow. It was declared a forgery at Rome by a congregation of Cardinals.

170 Lettere, vol. i. p. 100.

171 Lettere, vol. ii. p. 174.

172 See Sarpi’s Letters, vol. i. p. 352, for Protestant pupils of Jesuits. Sarpi’s Memorial to the Signory of Venice on the Collegio de’Greci in Rome exposes the fallacy of their being reputed the best teachers of youth, by pointing out how their aim is to withdraw their pupils’ allegiance from the nation, the government, and the family, to themselves.

173 Storia del Granducato di Toscana, vol. iv. p. 275.

174 Having mentioned the names of these illustrious Frenchmen, I feel bound to point out how accurately their criticism of the Jesuits was anticipated by Paolo Sarpi. His correspondence between the years 1608 and 1622 demonstrates that this body of social corrupters had been early recognized by him in their true light. Sarpi calls them ‘sottilissimi maestri in mal fare,’ ‘donde esce ogni falsità et bestemmia,’ ‘il vero morbo Gallico,’ ‘peste pubblica,’ ‘peste del mondo’ (Letters, vol. i. pp. 142, 183, 245, ii. 82, 109). He says that they ‘hanno messo l’ultima mano a stabilire una corruzione universale’ (ib. vol. i. p. 304). By their equivocations and mental reservations ‘fanno essi prova di gabbare Iddio’ (ib. vol. ii. p. 82). ‘La menzogna non iscusano soltanto ma lodano’ (ib. vol. ii. p. 106). So far, the utterances which I have quoted might pass for the rhetoric of mere spite. But the portrait gradually becomes more definite in details limned from life. ‘The Jesuits have so many loopholes for escape, pretexts, colors of insinuation, that they are more changeful than the Sophist of Plato; and when one thinks to have caught them between thumb and finger, they wriggle out and vanish’ (ib. vol. i. p. 230). ‘The Jesuit fathers have methods of acquiring in this world, and making their neophytes acquire, heaven without diminution, or rather with augmentation, of this life’s indulgences’ (ib. vol. i. p. 313). ‘The Jesuit fathers used to confer Paradise; they now have become dispensers of fame in this world’ (ibid. p. 363). ‘When they seek entrance into any place, they do not hesitate to make what promises may be demanded of them, possessing as they do the art of escape by lying with equivocations and mental reservations’ (ib. vol. ii. p. 147). ‘The Jesuit is a man of every color; he repeats the marvel of the chameleon’ (ibid. p. 105). ‘When they play a losing game, they yet rise winners from the table. For it is their habit to insinuate themselves upon any condition demanded, having arts enough whereby to make themselves masters of those who bind them by prescribed rules. They are glad to enter in the guise of galley-slaves with irons on their ankles; since, when they have got in, they will find no difficulty in loosing their own bonds and binding others’ (ibid. p. 134). ‘They command two arts: the one of escaping from the bonds and obligations of any vow or promise they shall have made, by means of equivocation, tacit reservation, and mental restriction; the other of insinuating, like the hedgehog, into the narrowest recesses, being well aware that when they unfold their piercing bristles, they will obtain the full possession of the dwelling and exclude its master’ (ibid. p. 144). ‘Everybody in Italy is well aware how they have wrought confession into an art. They never receive confidences under that seal without disclosing all particulars in the conferences of their Society; and that with the view of using confession to the advantage of their order and the Church. At the same time they preach the doctrine that the seal of the confessional precludes a penitent from disclosing what the confessor may have said to him, albeit his utterances have had no reference to sins or to the safety of the soul’ (ib. vol. ii. p. 108). ‘Should the Jesuits in France get hold of education, they will dominate the university, and eradicate sound letters. Yet why do I speak of healthy literature? I ought to have said good and wholesome doctrine, the which is verily mortal to that Company’ (ibid. p. 162). ‘Every species of vice finds its patronage in them. The avaricious trust their maxims, for trafficking in spiritual commodities; the superstitious, for substituting kisses upon images for the exercise of Christian virtues; the base fry of ambitious upstarts, for cloaking every act of scoundreldom with a veil of holiness. The indifferent find in them a palliative for their spiritual deadness; and whoso fears no God, has a visible God ready made for him, whom he may worship with merit to his soul. In fine, there is nor perjury, nor sacrilege, nor parricide, nor incest, nor rapine, nor fraud, nor treason, which cannot be masked as meritorious beneath the mantle of their dispensation’ (ibid. p. 330). ‘I apprehend the difficulty of attacking their teachings; seeing that they merge their own interests with those of the Papacy; and that not only in the article of Pontifical authority, but in all points. At present they stand for themselves upon the ground of equivocations. But believe me, they will adjust this also, and that speedily; forasmuch as they are omnipotent in the Roman Court, and the Pope himself fears them’ (ibid. p. 333). ‘Had S. Peter known the creed of the Jesuits, he could have found a way to deny our Lord without sinning’ (ibid. p. 353). ‘The Roman Court will never condemn Jesuit doctrine; for this is the secret of its empire—a secret of the highest and most capital importance, whereby those who openly refuse to worship it are excommunicated, and those who would do so if they dared, are held in check’ (ibid. p. 105). The object of this lengthy note is to vindicate for Sarpi a prominent and early place among those candid analysts of Jesuitry who now are lost in the great light of Pascal’s genius. Sarpi’s Familiar Letters have for my mind even more weight than the famous Lettres Provinciales of Pascal. They were written with no polemical or literary bias, at a period when Jesuitry was in its prime; and their force as evidence is strengthened by their obvious spontaneity. A book of some utility was published in 1703 at Salzburg (?), under the title of Artes Jesuiticae Christianus Aletophilus. This contains a compendium of those passages in casuistical writings on which Pascal based his brilliant satires. Paul Bert’s modern work, La Morale des Jésuites (Paris: Charpentier, 1881), is intended to prove that recent casuistical treatises of the school repeat those ancient perversions of sound morals.

175 See Mariana, De Rege, lib. i. cap. 6. This book, be it remembered, was written for the instruction of the heir apparent, afterwards Philip III.

176 Henri IV. let them return to France, in mere dread of their machinations against him. See Sully, vol. v. p. 113.

177 Sarpi, who was living at the time of Henri’s murder, and who saw his best hopes for Italy and the Church of God extinguished by that crime, at first credited the Jesuits with the deliberate instigation Ravaillac. He gradually came to the conclusion that, though they were not directly responsible, their doctrine of regicide had inflamed the fanatic’s imagination. See, in succession, Letters, vol. ii. pp. 78, 79, 81, 83, 86, 91, 105, 121, 170, 181, 192.

178 Expelled from Venice in 1606, from Bohemia in 1618, from Naples and the Netherlands in 1622, from Russia in 1676, from Portugal in 1759, from Spain in 1767, from France in 1764. Suppressed by the Bull of Clement XIV. in 1773. Restored in 1814, as an instrument against the Revolution.

179 The last section of Loyola’s Exercitia is an epitome of post-Tridentine Catholicism, though penned before the opening of the Council. In its last paragraph it inculcates the fear of God: ‘neque porro is timor solum, quem filialem appellamus, qui pius est ac sanctus maxime; verum etiam alter, servilis dictus’ (Inst. Soc. Jesu, vol. iv. p. 173).

180 An interesting survey of this wider kind has been attempted by U.A. Canello for the whole sixteenth century in his Storia della Lett. It. nel Secolo XVI. (Milano: Vallardi, 1880). He tries to demonstrate that, in the sphere of private life, Italian society gradually refined the brutal lusts of the Middle Ages, and passed through fornication to a true conception of woman as man’s companion in the family. The theme is bold; and the author seems to have based it upon too slight acquaintance with the real conditions of the Middle Ages.

181 Galluzzi, in his Storia del Granducato di Toscana, vol. iv. p. 34, estimates the murders committed in Florence alone during the eighteen months which followed the death of Cosimo I., at 186.

182 In drawing up these paragraphs I am greatly indebted to a vigorous passage by Signor Salvatore Bonghi in his Storia di Lucrezia Buonvisi, pp. 7-9, of which I have made free use, translating his words when they served my purpose, and interpolating such further details as might render the picture more complete.

183 The lax indulgence accorded by the Jesuit casuists to every kind of homicide appears in the extracts from those writers collected in Artes Jesuiticae (Salisburgi, 1703, pp. 75-83). Tamburinus went so far as to hold that if a man mixed poison for his enemy, and a friend came in and drank it up before his eyes, he was not bound to warn his friend, nor was he guilty of his friend’s death (Ib. p. 135, Art. 651).

184 See Salvatore Bonghi, op. cit. p. 159.

185 Bonghi, op. cit. p. 159, note.

186 In support of this assertion I translate a letter addressed (Milan, September 15, 1622) by Cardinal Federigo Borromeo to the Prioress of the Convent of S. Margherita at Monza (Dandolo, Signora di Monza, p. 132). ‘Experience of similar cases has shown how dangerous to your holy state is the vicinity of soldiers, owing to the correspondence which young and idle soldiers continually try to entertain with monasteries, sometimes even under fair and honorable pretexts.... Wherefore we have heard with much displeasure that in those places of our diocese where there are convents of nuns and congregations of virgins, ordinary lodgings for the soldiery have been established, called lonely houses (case erme), where they are suffered or obliged to dwell through long periods.’ The Bishop commands the Prioress to admit no soldier, on any plea of piety, devotion or family relationship, into her convent; to receive no servant or emissary of a soldier; to forbid special services being performed in the chapel at the instance of a soldier; and, finally, to institute a more rigorous system of watch and ward than had been formerly practiced.

187 In Venice, for example, they were called Monachini. But the name varied in various provinces.

188 The following abstract of the history of Virginia Maria de Leyva is based on Dandolo’s Signora di Monza (Milano, 1855). Readers of Manzoni’s I Promessi Sposi, and of Rosini’s tiresome novel, La Signora di Monza, will be already familiar with her in romance under the name of Gertrude.

189 Carlo Borromeo found it necessary to suppress the Umiliati. But he left the female establishment of S. Margherita untouched.

190 In ecclesiastical affairs the diocese of Milan exercised jurisdiction over that of Bergamo, although Bergamo was subject in civil affairs to Venice. This makes the matter more puzzling.

191 Storia di Lucrezia Buonvisi, by Salvatore Bonghi, Lucca, 1864. This is an admirably written historical monograph, based on accurate studies and wide researches, containing a mine of valuable information for a student of those times.

192 Campanelia, who was tortured in this way at Naples, says that on one occasion a pound and a half of his flesh was macerated, and ten pounds of his blood shed. ‘Perduravi horis quadraginta, funiculis arctissimis ossa usque secantibus ligatus, pendens manibus retro contortis de fune super acutissimum lignum qui (?) carnis sextertium (?) in posterioribus mihi devoravit et decem sanguinis libras tellus ebibit.’ Preface to Atheismus Triumphatus.

193 I may here allude to a portrait in our National Gallery of a Lucchese Arnolfini and his wife, painted by Van Eyck.

194 Here again I have very closely followed the text of Signor Bonghi’s monograph, pp. 112-115.

195 It appears that violent passion for a person was commonly attributed at that epoch to enchantment. See above, the confession of the Lady of Monza, p. 320.

196 Francesco Cenci e la sua Famiglia. Per A. Bertolotti, Firenze, 1877.

197 He was afterwards forced, in 1590, to disgorge a second sum of 25,000 crowns.

198 Prospero Farinaccio, the advocate of Cenci’s murderers, was himself tried for this crime (Bertolotti, op. cit. p. 104). The curious story of the Spanish soldiers alluded to above will be found in Mutinelli, Stor. Arc. vol. i. p. 121. See the same work of Mutinelli, vol. i. p. 48, for a similar prosecution in Rome 1566; and vol. iv. p. 152 for another involving some hundred people of condition at Milan in 1679. Compare what Sarpi says about the Florentine merchants and Roman cinedi in his Letters, date 1609, vol. i. p. 288. For the manners of the Neapolitans, Vita di D. Pietro di Toledo (Arch. Stor. It., vol. ix. p. 23). The most scandalous example of such vice in high quarters was given by Pietro de’Medici, one of Duke Cosimo’s sons. Galluzzi, vol. v. p. 174, and Litta’s pedigree of the Medici. The Bandi Lucchesi, ed. S. Bonghi, Bologna, 1863, pp. 377 381, treats the subject in full; and it has been discussed by Canello, op. cit. pp. 20-23. The Artes Jesuiticae, op. cit. Articles 62, 120, illustrate casuistry on the topic.

199 De Stendhal’s MS. authority says she was sixteen, Shelley’s that she was twenty.

200 De Stendhal’s MS. describes how Giacomo was torn by pincers; Shelley’s says that this part of the sentence was remitted.

201 The author of De Stendhal’s MS. professes to have known the old Cenci, and gives a definite description of his personal appearance.

202 Litta supplies the facts related above.

203 This fratricide, concurring with the matricide of S. Croce, contributed to the rigor with which the Cenci parricide was punished in that year of Roman crimes.

204 The White Devil, a tragedy by John Webster, London, 1612; De Stendhal’s Chroniques et Nouvelles, Vittoria Accoramboni, Paris 1855; Vittoria Accoramboni, D. Gnoli, Firenze, 1870; Italian Byways, by J.A. Symonds, London, 1883. The greater part of follows above is extracted from my Italian Byways.

205 I find a Felice Peretti mentioned in the will of Giacomo Cenci condemned in 1597. But this was after the death of this Peretti, whom I shall continue to call Francesco.

206 The balance of probability leans against Isabella in this affair. At the licentious court of the Medici she lived with unpardonable freedom. Troilo Orsini was himself assassinated in Paris by Bracciano’s orders a few years afterwards.

207 ‘La Duchesse de Palliano,’ in Chroniques et Nouvelles, De Stendhal (Henri Beyle).

208 This touch shows what were then considered the accomplishments of a noble woman.

209 It was a street-brawl, in which the Cardinal Monte played an indecent part, that finally aroused the anger of Paul IV. De Stendhal’s MS. shifts the chief blame on to the shoulders of Cardinal Caraffa, who indeed appears to have been in the habit of keeping bad company.

210 Mutinelli, Storia Arcana, vol. ii. p. 64.

211 Ib. vol. ii. p. 162.

212 Ib. vol. i. p. 343.

213 I Guarini, Famiglia Nobile Ferrarese (Bologna, Romagnoli, 1870), pp. 83-87.

214 In addition to the victims of his vengeance who perished by the poignard, he publicly executed in Florence forty-two political offenders.

215 See Mutinelli, Storia Arcana, vol. ii. pp.54-56, for Antonio’s reception into the Order.

216 I refer, of course, to Galluzzi’s Storia del Gran Ducato, vol. iv. pp. 241-244. Botta’s Storia d’Italia, Book xiv., and Litta’s Famiglie Celebri under the pedigree of Medici.

217 See Galluzzi, op. cit. vol. iii. p, 25, and Botta, op. cit. Book xii.

218 See above, p. 381.

219 Litta may be consulted for details; also Galluzzi, op. cit. vol. v. p. 174.

220 It maybe worth mentioning that Virginio Orsini, Bracciano’s son and heir, married Donna Flavia, grand niece of Sixtus V., and consequently related to the man his father murdered in order to possess Vittoria Accoramboni. See Mutinelli, Storia Arcana, vol. ii. p. 72.

221 See above, pp. 361-369.

222 Galluzzi, vol. iii. p. 5, says that she died of a putrid fever. Litta again inclines to the probability of poison. But this must counted among the doubtful cases.

223 See Galluzzi, op. cit. vol. iv. pp. 195-197, for the account of a transaction which throws curious light upon the customs of the age. It was only stipulated that the trial should not take place upon a Friday. Otherwise, the highest ecclesiastics gave it their full approval.

224 I have told the stories in this chapter as dryly as I could. Yet it would be interesting to analyze the fascination they exercised over our Elizabethan playwrights, some of whose Italian tragedies handle the material with penetrative imagination. For the English mode of interpreting southern passions see my Italian Byways, pp. 142 et seq., and a brilliant essay in Vernon Lee’s Euphorion.

225 For the Italian text see Lorenzino de’Medici, Daelli, Milano, 1862. The above is borrowed from my Italian Byways.

226 So far as I can discover, the only church of San Spirito in Venice was a building on the island of San Spirito, erected by Sansavino, which belonged to the Sestiere di S. Croce, and which was suppressed in 1656. Its plate and the fine pictures which Titian painted there were transferred at that date to S. M. della Salute. I cannot help inferring that either Bibboni’s memory failed him, or that his words were wrongly understood by printer or amanuensis. If for S. Spirito, we substitute S. Stefano, the account would be intelligible.

227 The text is published, from Florentine Archives, in Gnoli’s Vittoria Accoramboni, pp. 404-414.

228 See Rawdon Brown’s Calendar of State Papers, vol. iv.

229 See Botta, Book IV., for the story of Lodovico’s intrigues at Siena.

230 This letter is dated February 16, 1546.

231 See Mutinelli, Storia Arcana, vol. ii. p. 167, for the pillage of Lucera by Pacchiarotto.

232 Sarpi’s History of the Uscocchi may be consulted for this singular episode in the Iliad of human savagery. See Mutinelli, op. cit. vol. ii. p. 182, on the case of the son and heir of the Duke of Termoli joining them; and ibid. p. 180 on the existence of pirates at Capri.

233 Mutinelli, Annali Urbani di Venezia, pp. 470-483,549-550.

234 Mutinelli, Storia Arcana, vol. i. p. 310-340, and vol. xiv. pp. 30-65.

235 It is worth mentioning that Ripamonte calculates the mortality from plague in Milan in 1524 at 140,000.

236 Mutinelli, op. cit. vol. in. pp. 229-233. Botta has given an account of this plague in the twenty-sixth book of his History.

237 Mutinelli, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 287-307.

238 See Mutinelli, op. cit. p. 241 and p. 289. We hear of the same belief at Milan in 1576, op. cit. vol. i. pp. 311-315.

239 Ibid. p. 309. See also vol. iii. p. 254 for a similar narration.

240 Mutinelli, op. cit. vol. ii. pp. 51-65.

241 Cantù’s Ragionamenti sulla Storia Lombarda del Secolo XVII. Milano, 1832. The trial may also be read in Mutinelli, Storm Arcana, vol. iv. pp. 175-201. Mutinelli inclines to believe in the Untori. So do many grave historians, including Nani and Botta. See Cantù, Storia degli Italiani, Milano, 1876, vol. ii. p. 215.

242 Mr. Ruskin has somewhere maintained that the decline of Venice was not due to this cause, but to fornication. He should read the record given by Mutinelli (Diari Urbani, p. 157), of Venetian fornication in 1340, at the time when the Ducal Palace was being covered with its sculpture. The public prostitutes were reckoned then at 11,654. Adulteries, rapes, infanticides were matters of daily occurrence. Yet the Renaissance had not begun, and the expansion of Venice, which roused the envious hostility of Europe, had yet to happen.

243 Dandolo’s Streghe Tirolesi, and Cantù’s work on the Diocese of Como show how much Subalpine Italy had in common in Northern Europe in this matter.

244 See Rassegna Settimanale, September 18, 1881.