"It having been represented to him that the fashion of going armed gave daily occasion for brawls and tumults, he made the podestà put forth a proclamation that no one should carry any weapon, and took care to be passing with his court when the crier was publishing it. Stopping to listen, he turned:—'Our podestà must have some good reason for this order, and that being so, it is right he should be obeyed.' He then, unbuckling his sword, gave it to one of his suite to be taken home; whereupon all the others did the same. Thus by his example he maintained more prompt and perfect justice than others could effect by sentences, bail-bonds, imprisonments, tortures, or the halter; ... and it was just when he made least show of power that he was most a sovereign. One Nicolò da Cagli, an old and distinguished soldier in his service, having lost a suit, went to Fossombrone to lodge an appeal with Federigo, and, finding that he was hunting in the park, followed him, without ever considering that the time and place were ill adapted for such a purpose. At the moment when he put his petition into his sovereign's hand, a hart went by with the hounds in full cry. The Count spurred after them, and in the hurry of the moment dropped the petition, which Nicolò taking as a personal slight, he retired in great dudgeon, and went about abusing him roundly, as unjust, ungrateful, and haughty. Federigo hearing of this, ordered the commissary of Cagli to send the veteran to Urbino, who hesitated to obey the summons, dreading punishment of his rashness. In reliance, however, on his master's leniency, and his own merits, he set out, and found the Count at breakfast in the great audience chamber. It was customary while at his meals, for those who had the entrée to fall back on each side, leaving the entrance clear, so that he saw Nicolò come in: and when he had done eating, he called and thus addressed him:—'I hear that you go about speaking much ill of me, and as I am not aware of having ever offended you, I desire to know what you have been saying, and of what you complain.' At first he turned it off with some excuse, but on being pressed for an explanation, he recounted what had occurred in the park; and that, considering his long and zealous service, his sacrifices and wounds, it appeared to him a slight, and virtually a cut direct, to run after a wild beast when he came in search of justice; that having in consequence let slip the opportunity of appealing, and so, irretrievably lost a cause of much importance, he had in irritation given too great licence to his tongue. Whereupon, Federigo, turning to the bystanders, said, 'Now see what obligations I am under to my subjects, who not only peril their lives in my service, but also teach me how to govern my state!' and continued thus to the litigant, 'Friend Nicolò! you are quite right; and since you have suffered from my fault, I shall make it up to you.' He then ordered the commissary of Cagli to pay him down the value of the house, and all his travelling expenses, although the fault was clearly his for not bringing his appeal at a fitter time. Again, during one severe winter, the monks at S. Bernardino,[*205] being snowed up, and without any stores, rang their bells for assistance; the alarm reaching Urbino, Federigo called out the people, and went at their head to cut a way and carry provisions to the good friars."

These extracts, illustrating the true spirit of a paternal government, amply account for the esteem in which the Duke of Urbino was held by contemporaries, and for his fame which still survives in Italy, although partially obscured north of the Alps by Sismondi's indifference to whatever merit emerged among the petty sovereigns of that fair land. Immensely superior to most of them in intellectual refinement and in personal worth, he may be regarded as, in military tactics, the type of his age, and was sought for and rewarded accordingly. He served as captain-general under three pontiffs, two kings of Naples, and two dukes of Milan. He repeatedly bore the baton of Florence, and refused that of Venice. He was engaged by several of the recurring Italian leagues as their leader in the field. From the popes he earned his dukedom, and the royal guerdons of the Rose, the Hat, and the Sword. Henry VII of England[*206] sent him the Garter; Ferdinand of Naples conferred on him the Ermine. In fine, Marcilio Ficino, a philosopher as well as a courtier, cited him as the ideal of a perfect man and a wise prince.

Federigo's dying requests were, that his nephew and confidential friend Ottaviano Ubaldini should charge himself with the care of his youthful heir, and that his body should be interred by that of his father in the parish church of S. Donato, a short distance eastward from Urbino. The funeral, though celebrated with

"Those rites which custom doth impose,"

was more remarkable for the heartfelt grief which attested the calamity fallen upon his people. His funeral oration, pronounced by Odasio, whom we shall afterwards find performing the like sad office to his son, is preserved in the Vatican, and has furnished us with some traits of his character. His body, duly embalmed, was enclosed in a marble sarcophagus in the new church of the Zoccolantines, which he left unfinished, close to that of S. Donato.[*207] Thirty years after his death, it was laid open by his grandson, Duke Francesco Maria, who reverently plucked a few hairs from his manly breast.[208] The tomb, thus strangely violated, remained open, and Baldi, who wrote in 1603, describes the corpse as still perfect, except a slight injury to the nose, and resembling a wooden figure, fleshless, and covered with white skin. It was attired after the fashion of Italy, in a gala dress of crimson satin and scarlet, with a sword by its side. Muzio tells us that he too had seen the body half a century before, when it was visited by Duke Guidobaldo II. and many of his people.

We may here notice six likenesses still preserving to us the form and fashion of that body, with which his people's posterity thus strangely held converse, beginning with, I. the portraits of Federigo and his consort, painted in tempera by Piero della Francesca, now in the Uffizi gallery at Florence, which we reproduce. The individuality belonging alike to the features and the costumes could scarcely be doubted, even had we not historical authority for the Count's broken nose, and that of Giovanni Sanzi for Battista's "grave and modest eye," already more particularly mentioned at page 218.[*209] The clear tone and enamel finish are admirable, notwithstanding a thick varnish, with which old tempera pictures are invariably dabbled, under the recent management of the Florence gallery. The panels are painted on both sides, the subjects on the reverse being triumphs of the two sovereigns in a style of mythological allegory then in fashion. On a car drawn by two milk-white steeds with docked tails, driven by Cupid, Federigo sits on a curule chair, in full armour, pointing forward with his truncheon, and holding a helmet on his knee, whilst a winged Victory, standing behind, crowns him with a garland. On the front of the car ride four female figures, one of whom, representing Force, has in her arms a broken Corinthian column; another, emblematic of Prudence, is placed in the centre of the group, holding a mirror in her hand; her face, bright with youthful hope, looks in advance to the future, and the profile or mask of a bearded and wrinkled old man, affixed to the back of her Janus head, contemplates the past with matured experience; a metaphor closely followed by Raffaele for his Jurisprudence in the Stanza della Segnatura. Justice is introduced with her scales and two-edged sword; and the fourth figure is scarcely seen. The distant country, in this as in the others of these pictures, shows that their author was unable to apply to landscape the excellence in linear perspective displayed by his architectural designs. Countess Battista's triumph is similarly treated; but her car is drawn by bay unicorns, types of purity, and she sits on a chair of state, splendidly attired, with an open book on her knee. Behind her a bright maiden, meant probably for Truth, contrasts with an elderly female in semi-monastic dress who may be intended for

On the front of the car, Faith, with cross and chalice, sits by Religion, on whose knee the pelican feeds her young, emblematic of the Saviour's love for mankind. Under each of these allegorical paintings is a strophe of Sapphic measure, which may be thus rendered:—

"In gorgeous triumph is borne the hero, whom enduring fame worthily celebrates as a sovereign, equalling in his virtues the greatest generals.

"Thus conducted amid her prosperity, and illustrated by the laurels of her mighty husband's deeds, her name circles in the mouths of mankind."[210]

II. Our next portrait of this Duke was probably obtained by the Barberini family at the devolution of Urbino to the Holy See, about 1630, and remains in their palace at Rome. It is on a three-quarters panel, life size, in full armour, wearing the ducal mantle of crimson flowered with gold, and an ermine cape. From his neck hangs the order of the Ermine, and below his left knee is the Garter. The ducal cap of yellow silk, thickly studded with pearls, hangs on a tall lectern in front of his armchair. He holds a crimson book, and reads from it to his son, standing by his knee, in a yellow frock richly jewelled, a sceptre in the boy's right hand. This head and figure have been copied by Clovio, in an illuminated volume which we shall describe in VI. of the Appendix; and although ascribed to Mantegna, they may rather be a work of Piero della Francesca (if I may form an opinion after the single visit and distant inspection allowed me in 1845 by its jealous owner), but always with the proviso that that able artist's blindness[*211] had not supervened in 1478, when, from the prince's age, this picture must have been done. We have no notice of Mantegna having been at Urbino, although this is probable, from Sanzi's admiration of him.[212]

III. In 1843, there was in the possession of the widow Comerio, at Milan, a very small head of Federigo on copper, which she wished to sell as a Raffaele for 200l. I have learned, by the kindness of an intelligent friend, that it is a good old copy of the seventeenth century, the composition slightly varied from the Barberini picture and Clovio miniature. It may have been the original of a poor engraving prefixed to Muzio's life of this Duke, and would scarcely have been noticed here had not the Abbé Pungileone, with his usual lack of discrimination, ventured a conjecture that it was done by Raffaele from a work of his father; a random guess, discountenanced by the Italian editor of Quartremere de Quincy, notwithstanding his readiness to adopt all speculative Raffaeles in the hands of his Milanese townsmen. It is a duty to expose such blunders, especially when greedily adopted as a foundation for imposture.

IV. The picture of which we have now to speak possesses strong claims upon our interest. Among the artists of Urbino who will figure in our twenty-seventh chapter was Fra Carnevale, a Dominican monk, who, at the Duke's desire, painted, for his new church of the Zoccolantines, an altar-piece, transferred by French rapine to the Brera gallery at Milan, where the imperfect restitution of 1815 has left it. Tradition, fortified by a questionable MS., points out the Madonna and child as portraits of Countess Battista and her son, while Federigo's figure kneeling before her throne, cannot be mistaken. But, as we shall afterwards have occasion to show, the genius of Christian art was at that time opposed to embodying in sacred personages the lineaments of real life, and, although the apocryphal legend has been received without challenge by two recent commentators on Fra Carnevale, a monkish limner seems unlikely to have infringed the rule.[213] Marchese, correctly describing the picture from Rosini's print, tells us that before the enthroned Madonna and four attendant saints "is the Duke of Urbino in armour, prostrate on his knees, and imploring her favour for himself and his children, who appear grouped behind the throne." After praising the life-like heads of these portraits, this critic from the cloisters questions the propriety of so stowing away the ducal progeny. But an artist friend, who at my request examined the original work since I have been able to do so, informs me that the latter are winged angels in long white robes and pearl necklaces, although with faces apparently taken from the life. Federigo's figure is unquestionably introduced, by a usual and very beautiful licence, as donor of this altar-piece, thus bearing witness to the devotional spirit which dictated his gift; and could we have it replaced in the church that was reared at his bidding, over against the sarcophagus which contains his remains, and believe that on its panel, painted in pious commemoration of the birth of an heir, are preserved the features of six of his family, no more interesting memorial of Urbino's golden days could be conceived.

V. This Duke's portrait is delineated in another altar-piece at Urbino, in which, being from the hand of a Fleming, such mixture of sacred and historical art is less inconsistent. Having already alluded at page 205 to the occasion on which it was commissioned, and having to describe it in our thirtieth chapter, we need not further notice it now.

VI. I saw at Florence in 1845, in the hands of Signor di Tivoli, master of languages, an interesting but ruined picture painted on panel, apparently by a Venetian master of the sixteenth century. In a chair of state, on the elevated platform of a vast hall, is seated Duke Federigo, with Guidobaldo at his knee, the Garter embroidered on his left sleeve, and its star on his ducal mantle. Three courtiers stand behind him, and another group on the floor below, listening to the prelections of a figure in black robes. On a cornice of the saloon is inscribed "Federigo Duke of Urbino and Count of Montefeltro." We conjecture this subject to be a sitting of the Academy degli Assorditi, though it may represent Odasio or some other lettered guest reading his compositions: in either case the painting is an interesting, though scarcely contemporary, memorial of this lettered court.[214]

By his first marriage Federigo had no family, but his wife Battista Sforza brought him eight children in twelve years. Their son was the youngest, but the daughters' seniority is disputed.

• 1. Guidobaldo, his heir.

• 2. A daughter, who died in infancy, 1461.

• 3. Elisabetta, born in 1461-2, betrothed March 1471, and married in 1475 to Roberto Malatesta, Lord of Rimini, with 12,000 florins of dowry. This match was intended to solder up the long feuds of the Montefeltri and Malatesta. At the age of twenty she heard, at the same moment, of the deaths of her husband and her father, and soon after assumed the veil by the name of Sister Chiara, in a convent of Franciscan minor observantines which she founded at Urbino in honour of that saint, endowing it with all her possessions.

• 4. Giovanna, married in 1474, to Giovanni della Rovere, nephew of Sixtus IV., who became Lord of Sinigaglia and Prefect of Rome. From this marriage sprang the second dynasty of Urbino, as we shall see in chapter xxxi.

• 5. Agnesina, married in 1474 to Fabrizio Colonna, Lord of Marino, Duke of Albi and Tagliacozza. She inherited the talents and literary tastes which, as we have already seen, had descended to her mother, and transmitted them to a still more gifted daughter, the illustrious Vittoria Colonna, Marchioness of Pescara. Of this marriage was also born Ascanio Colonna, Duke of Palliano, who, in 1526 and 1529, set up claims upon Urbino, on the ground that his mother was an elder sister of the Prefectess Giovanna.

• 6. Costanza, married to Antonello Sanseverino, Prince of Salerno, and had a son born in 1507. Their grandson was the patron of Bernardo Tasso, whom we shall mention in chapter l.

• 7. Chiara, a nun.

• 8. Violante, married to Galeotto Malatesta.

Federigo's natural children were:—

• 1. Bonconte, a youth of singular promise and accomplishments, on whom, in absence of legitimate issue, were centred his father's hopes. Having been sent at fourteen to the court of Naples, he died there of plague.

• 2. Antonio, who was legitimated, along with his eldest brother, in 1454, and became a student. But soon devoting himself to arms, he attended his father in many campaigns, and especially in the fatal one of Ferrara. A cloud, however, came over his military renown at the battle of the Taro in 1495, where he misconducted himself under the banner of St. Mark. He married Emilia, youngest daughter of Marco Pio of Carpi, and died childless soon after 1500. His wife was the chief ornament of Urbino when its court was the model of intellectual refinement, and she will often be noticed in after portions of this work. Her charming social qualities are celebrated in prose and verse by Castiglione, and she is called by Bembo a magnanimous and prudent lady, remarkable for wisdom as for warm affection. The Duchess Elisabetta, whose friend and companion she had been, alike during the bright days of wedlock and the blight of widowhood, bequeathed to her in 1527 the liferent of Poggio d'Inverno, and appointed her an executrix of her will. Her portrait from a medal will be found in our second volume.

• 3. Bernardino, who died at Castel Durante, 1458.

• 4. Gentile, a celebrated beauty, who married Agostino Fregoso of Genoa, and had the Montefeltrian fief of Sta. Agatha. Their sons, Ottaviano and Federigo Fregoso, will figure in our twenty-first chapter, and attained the respective dignities of Doge of Genoa and Cardinal. Ottaviano's posterity were Marquises of Sta. Agatha in the seventeenth century.

BOOK THIRD
OF GUIDOBALDO DI MONTEFELTRO,
THIRD DUKE OF URBINO

CHAPTER XIII

IN the life of Duke Federigo we have seen personal merit accompanied by a remarkable continuance of good fortune. The mystery of his birth was no bar to his enjoying unquestioned a sovereignty to which he could not have established any clear right. The popular outbreak which had cut off his predecessor shook not the stability of his dynasty. To the fief he thus peaceably acquired he added important territories by marriage and purchase. He transmitted to a hopeful son an important and flourishing state, and with it the highest title compatible with his station, obtained by his personal merits. Among competitors and opponents of great military renown he was ever conspicuous, and almost uniformly victorious. In an age when letters and arts began their rivalry with arms he retained, as the Maecenas of a cultivated court, the fame he had gained as a successful general. The biographers of Guidobaldo[*215] have justly ascribed to him no inferior merit, while they have strongly contrasted the persecutions of fortune which he endured; and they have established the probability that, with equal years and equal advantages, his memory might have not been less glorious than that of his father. Those portents attending the Prince's birth, to which a miraculous character was assigned by the gratitude or superstition of the people, have been mentioned in a preceding chapter. It took place at Gubbio on the 17th or 24th of January, 1472, and on the 2nd of February he was baptized Guido Ubaldo Girolamo Vincenzo;[*216] the first pair of these names, given in memory of the old counts of Urbino, and of the patron saint of that city, was commonly used by him in its contracted form Guidobaldo. The court of his father, ever attractive to eminent men, was soon after visited by the venerable Cardinal Bessarion, who, after being twice within a vote or two of the triple tiara, was returning from his last diplomatic mission to England a few months before his death. Federigo availed himself of this opportunity to obtain for the infant the rite of confirmation, though but three months' old. In two months more, the condition with which Battista had accompanied her prayers for a male heir was fatally fulfilled,[217] and Guidobaldo was deprived of a mother's care long ere he could be sensible of the sad bereavement.

Almost from his cradle the Prince was remarkable for a sweet and docile temper, as well as for uncommon promise. We are gravely assured by his preceptor that, while other infants had scarcely learned to satisfy their instinctive need of sustenance, he could express his wants; while they were trying to speak he was mastering his rudiments; and these, with similar proofs of precocity, which we shall presently cite, are asserted with the most solemn asseverations of their literal truth. Fully aware of the importance of early directing so prompt a genius, his father engaged, as the guide of his youthful studies, Ludovico Odasio of Padua, an accomplished gentleman, as well as a distinguished scholar, whom he ever treated with the attention due to his own merits, as well as to the importance of his charge. The after life of his pupil, and the language used by Odasio in his funeral eulogy,[*218] bear ample testimony to the careful and satisfactory tuition which the Prince imbibed, and the benefit he reaped from his instructions. Nor were these ungratefully received by the latter, who, on attaining majority, bestowed upon his preceptor the countship of Isola Forsara, near Gubbio, which his descendants continued to enjoy during many generations.

The Paduan sage describes his charge as a fit model of those infantine Cupids whom painters delight to introduce in their pictures of the Queen of Love. Nor were his dispositions less engaging; gentle and just to all, generous but prudent beyond his years. Neglecting the childish toys suitable to his age, his whole mind was concentrated on his studies and on manly sports, occasioning in many those anxious fears that so generally attend the premature development of early talent. Such was the genius committed to the care of Odasio, who seems to have rendered it ample justice. Besides his native tongue, Guidobaldo rapidly acquired the Latin language, and although Greek was then a comparatively rare accomplishment, he so thoroughly mastered its difficulties as to write it with freedom and Attic grace. Possessing great powers of application, his reading included all the best classical authors. The poets were his delight in boyhood, but by degrees he attached himself more to the severer studies of philosophy and ethics. Nor was his attention limited to abstract literature. Geography engaged in turn his versatile talents, accompanied with practical information as to the inhabitants by whom various countries were peopled, their manners, their political relations, and the character of their respective governments. But what his preceptor considered as the great aim of a princely education was the development of his powers of eloquence, and an extensive acquaintance with history; to these, therefore, he drew Guidobaldo's attention with entire success. In detailing to us these interesting particulars, Odasio takes little credit for the progress of his pupil, whose quick apprehension rendered his duty that of a companion and observer rather than of a teacher. His powers of memory were especially remarkable, and by judicious and habitual exercise were extended with advancing manhood. He is said to have possessed that rarest gift, of never forgetting anything he wished to recollect, and to have repeated with perfect accuracy successive pages which he had read only once, some ten or fifteen years before.

His insatiable thirst for knowledge did not prevent his perfecting himself in every healthful and manly exercise. Precocious in his amusements as in his talents, he devoted to these the play-time which other children pass with noisy toys, and whilst they listened to nursery tales, he hung upon the recital of heroic deeds, or the stirring narratives of glorious war. To the boyish sports of ball and dancing quickly succeeded gymnastic and military games, which were followed with an enthusiasm, and accompanied by exposure to fatigue and cold, that appear to have fatally affected his constitution. Thus he grew up, adorned by the accomplishments, endowed with the courage, and skilled in the martial exercises which formed a perfect knight when the standard of chivalry was high. Nor were the graces of person wanting to this phœnix of his age. Count Castiglione describes him as represented in our engraving, of fair complexion and hair; of singularly handsome features, in which a severe style was chastened by gentle expression; of a person and limbs the model of manly beauty.

The death of Duke Federigo in the disastrous campaign of Ferrara, on the 10th of September, 1482, left Guidobaldo an orphan ere he had completed his eleventh year. In times where so much of the success, and even security, of a petty sovereign depended on his personal qualifications, a minority was ever perilous; but, in the present instance, there were circumstances of peculiar danger to augment the delicacy of his position. The state of Urbino was surrounded by those of the Church, of Florence, of Rimini, and of Pesaro, whilst the more distant powers, whose influence habitually bore upon the lesser principalities of Italy, were Venice, Milan, and Naples. Of the former category, the Pope, though connected by marriage, could scarcely be deemed friendly, for Federigo had died in arms against the papal troops; Lorenzo de' Medici was indebted to him for important aid, but had never shown any peculiar attachment to his alliance; Rimini had once more passed into the hands of an illegitimate heir, in whose eyes the intermarriage of his father with the aunt of Guidobaldo[*219] might not counterbalance the inveterate feuds between his grandfather Sigismondo Pandolfo and Federigo. With Costanzo Sforza, Lord of Pesaro, the young Duke could, indeed, calculate upon amicable relations, but these, with so feeble a neighbour, were of negative rather than available advantage. The open hostility of Venice, then almost at the climax of her power, might well counterbalance the Neapolitan alliance, and Ludovico Sforza was too busy with his own ambitious projects upon the Milanese to interfere in support of a distant ally. But how vain the calculations of human policy in the sight of Him in whose hands are the issues of life! The perils which hung over the youthful Guidobaldo passed away like the morning mists that precede a brilliant sunrise.

Having performed the last duties to his illustrious father, the new Duke, on the 17th of September, was solemnly invested with the ducal mantle, and rode through Urbino receiving homage amid the rejoicings of all ranks. Thence he proceeded to Gubbio and his other principal towns, meeting everywhere a unanimous welcome, and leaving, by his fine presence and engaging manners, a highly favourable impression on his subjects. In the arrangements necessary for the administration of his state, he was aided by his cousin-german Ottaviano Ubaldini, of whom we have already spoken.[220]

The messengers sent from Urbino to the combined powers of Naples, Florence, and Milan, in whose service Duke Federigo had met his death, returned with news which dissipated all present anxiety as to the position of his heir, whom it at once placed on an eminence that might have turned an older and more experienced head. The allies, in faithful implement of his father's condotta, continued to him the same command, entrusting to a child a charge which had baffled the best generals of Italy. It is difficult satisfactorily to explain this apparent absurdity. No doubt the services of condottieri were in certain cases retained, rather for the following which they could bring into active service than out of regard to their personal qualifications, and it must have been most important for the League to secure the brave and hardy militia of Montefeltro. Yet this affords no valid reason for ostensibly setting a mere schoolboy over many veteran officers. The appointment was probably but nominal, and at a moment when no onward movement seemed requisite—when, in fact, the war had been turned into a blockade—it was sanctioned as a mere temporary expedient until time should be gained to deliberate on ulterior steps, whether for a renewal of offensive demonstrations, or for a general pacification. In this view the measure was politic, as a flattering compliment to one whom it was well to conciliate, without tying up the parties from whom it emanated. But, whatever be the just explanation, the fact is positive that, in the language of Odasio, the Duke was treated as a man ere he had well completed his childhood; was ranked as a veteran ere he had served as a cadet; was made general before he had served as a soldier. The career thus happily opened was not, however, that which was destined most to illustrate his name. When compared with his father's achievements, or with the military science of his successor, the martial feats of Guidobaldo sink into insignificance. The promise of an active and athletic childhood, and the premature honours of boyish command, were blighted by the early development of constitutional infirmities, which in a few years disabled him from service in the field. Fortunately for himself and his reputation, nature had endowed him with other resources, the cultivation of which not only consoled his own privations, but greatly contributed to humanise the age.

Nor did the result of their policy disappoint the confederates, or expose Guidobaldo's military fame to premature risks. The wayward and fickle character of Sixtus IV. solved all difficulties, by suddenly changing his side. Upon pretended compunction for the miseries produced by the war, but in reality from finding the Venetians likely to reap the exclusive advantage of successes to which he had in no way contributed, he reconciled himself with Ferdinand of Naples, and in a treaty to this effect, signed on the 6th of January, 1483, he left to the Signory an option of adherence to its terms. The publication of this new alliance was inaugurated at Siena by a triumphal procession, during which the Pontiff's sudden amity with the two Tuscan republics was celebrated in a chorus to this effect:—

The abandonment by Sixtus of his design upon Ferrara, although no doubt promoted by the confederates' threat of a general council, was probably induced by a calculation that the condotta with 10,000 ducats of pay, and the vague promise of other fiefs in Romagna, which were offered by Naples and Spain to Girolamo Riario, would prove to him a more substantial boon than his stipulated share of the Ferrarese territories, exposed to the chances of an obstinate and expensive struggle, and coupled with the condition of handing over the larger portion of that dukedom to the already dangerously powerful republic of Venice. Thus was dissolved the League against the d'Este, and with it expired Guidobaldo's commission, his position being at the same time strengthened by a reconciliation with the Church.

But though the parties had changed, the game of war was continued. The Venetians had good grounds for umbrage at the unceremonious desertion, by his Holiness, of the common cause, without due notice, and still better reason for discontent on finding themselves called upon to abandon their designs upon Ferrara, after a long, expensive, and, on the whole, successful campaign. They therefore, rejected the offer of joining the new alliance, and persisted in offensive operations against Duke Ercole, notwithstanding the displeasure of Sixtus, who, with his usual violence, thundered an interdict against his recent allies for pursuing the very policy to which he had persuaded them. Intent on forcing peace upon the parties between whom he had recently stirred up unprovoked hostilities, he directed the whole power of the new combination against the Republic. To meet the exigencies of the opening campaign, the combatants prepared their several forces, and Guidobaldo was taken into the pay of King Ferdinand, with a salary of 15,000 ducats for three years, more, of course, on account of his contingent of 180 men-at-arms and 30 lances than with any intention of putting his own military talents to the test. The Venetians, nothing daunted by the formidable combination they were called upon to oppose, engaged the services of Costanzo Sforza, of Pesaro, with 300 men-at-arms. Thus, by a coincidence not uncommon in the career of military adventurers, Guidobaldo was pitted against an uncle with whom, and with whose states, the most affectionate and cordial relations had always subsisted. But their impending rupture was averted by the hand of fate. A malignant fever cut off Costanzo on the 19th of July, and his subjects were left to mourn a prince who had conciliated their affection by wise policy, by attention to their welfare, and by zeal in the improvement of his capital.

Death had, however, selected a partner in the game more important than the Lord of Pesaro. The dread hour of reckoning was arrived to the arch-spirit of turbulence, who from the chair of St. Peter had, during thirteen years, been the scourge of Italy. Nor was his end out of character with his career. By counter-plots, which we need not stay to develop, the crafty Venetians contrived to seduce Ludovico il Moro from the hostile band by whom they were beset, and turning the tables upon the Pope, effected a pacification without including or even consulting him. The treaty of Bagnolo aggrandised the maritime republic with no reference to the interests of Riario. It reached Sixtus on the 12th of August, 1484, and brought on a sudden attack of his constitutional malady, gout, which struck him speechless. In a few hours he expired of vexation, at finding himself outmanœuvred in his favourite game of intrigue, and at seeing those broils which he had done so much to foment, thus brought to an unexpected close. The Venetians, on learning that their rancorous foe had ceased to live, redoubled the joy with which they heard of the general pacification; and the satirical wits of the day commemorated his death in this biting epigram:—

The successor of Sixtus was Cardinal Cibò, who took the title of Innocent VIII. Between him and Duke Federigo had existed an old friendship, which was cordially extended to Guidobaldo, and also to Ottaviano Ubaldini: to these, therefore, it was a pleasure as well as a duty to lay their congratulations at his feet, in return for which a new investiture, already prepared by order of the late Pontiff, was promptly forwarded to the young Duke. The aggressions of the Turk, that standing grievance of Christian Europe, had of late menaced Italy itself, and each pope, on ascending the chair of St. Peter, sought to signalise his zeal by uniting the Peninsular powers against the common foe. Yet, like his predecessors, Innocent was quickly diverted from a project vast, glorious, and attractive, but impracticable, to meaner objects; from the cause of Christianity to ebullitions of personal pique. The rigour with which he exacted from the King of Naples some arrears of cense, or ecclesiastical tribute, due to the Camera under old investitures, but which had been modified by Sixtus IV., occasioned an exchange of harsh words. There occurred at Aquila, about the same time, a most serious insurrection, headed by some Neapolitan nobles belonging to the Angevine party, who, exasperated by a long course of oppressive and injudicious government, appealed to Innocent for assistance. The occasion seemed tempting for gratifying his indignation against Ferdinand I., and for adding to the papal states that important fief. The grand crusade against the Crescent was once more forgotten, and the Pope, entering upon the career of Sixtus, became the perturbator in place of the pacificator of unhappy Italy. Among other small princes whom he retained for this struggle was Guidobaldo, nor did he omit to secure the Venetians. Ferdinand was not idle on his side, having made an alliance with the Florentines. Whilst the ecclesiastical troops, under Roberto da Sanseverino and the Prefect della Rovere, seconding the rebellious barons of Naples, carried an aggressive war into the Abruzzi, the King made a diversion in La Marca, by means of some military adventurers, who, at his instigation, stirred up the people of Città di Castello, Fano, and Osimo, to throw off the papal sway. To quell these movements, the troops of Urbino, led by commanders sent by Innocent, and still more the influence of the Duke, proved highly instrumental. The war, begun without just cause, and leading to no important result, ended, as usual, in a league which left the parties much as before. It included the Pope, the King, Giovanni Galeazzo Sforza, and the Venetian Republic, and was hailed with a joy that seemed wilfully oblivious of the hollowness of former pacifications. It was concluded on the 11th of August, 1485, and, unlike these, it secured the quiet of Italy during the remainder of that pontificate.

The first actual service which it was the lot of Guidobaldo to witness was in a cause at once vile and unimportant; but it placed him under a rising soldier, who became one of the most distinguished commanders of the age. Among the adventurers to whom we just now referred as troubling the Marca, was Boccolino Guzzoni or Uguccione, who, having made himself master of Osimo, continued to hold out with obstinacy, embittered by a furious temper, and by the impolitic severity which Innocent had manifested towards him. To reduce this firebrand, Gian Jacopi di Trivulzio was sent from Milan in May, 1487;[*223] and, although the mediation of Lorenzo de' Medici saved Uguccione from impending destruction, an incident which made him acquainted with so remarkable a general must be considered important to the youthful Duke, who had only completed his fifteenth year. His advance towards manhood was marked by communications from the Court of Rome being henceforward addressed to himself, instead of to Ottaviano; but he dutifully continued to avail himself of his guardian's counsels in all matters of moment.

We have seen the peculiar circumstances in which, with the aid of Duke Federigo, the sovereignty of Count Girolamo Riario and his wife Caterina Sforza was established in Imola and Forlì.[224] They had reigned there during eight years, cited by their flatterers as models of paternal government; abused by those whom they had disappointed and especially by the Florentine writers, as monsters of tyranny. Truth may probably lie between. Girolamo has been accused of no flagrant crime, except a participation in the Pazzi conspiracy, which was instigated by his uncle Sixtus IV., while Caterina is favourably distinguished even above those brilliant spirits who abounded among the contemporary princesses of Italy. The Count is alleged to have, by an overbearing manner, offended several of his courtiers, but particularly Francesco Deddi de' Orsi. Another account accuses Lorenzo de' Medici of intriguing to avenge the old injury which he justly attributed to Riario, a charge which his eulogists have indignantly repelled, and which, resting on no proof, is certainly inconsistent with a character so noble. Francesco, at the head of a band of conspirators, broke in upon Count Girolamo, and murdered him in his palace at Forlì. They then threw his body into the piazza, and the populace, ever ready for change, rose simultaneously, some crying "Liberty," others "Church," and finished their work by plundering his residence.[*225] Meanwhile the leaders of the insurrection possessed themselves of the Countess, her mother, sister, and six children; and finding that Giacomo Fea, captain of the citadel, held it against them, they dragged her to the walls, and insisted upon her summoning him to surrender. Upon his refusing, they acceded to a proposal that she should be admitted, in order to induce him to yield. Once within the castle, Caterina thanked its defender, and stimulated the garrison to fresh resistance, directing that all the artillery should be brought to bear upon the town, ready to bombard it should the rebels attempt to execute their cowardly threat of offering violence to her children.[226]

This bold bearing saved the cause of the young Riarii, without really endangering their persons. Giovanni Bentivoglio, Lord of Bologna, a faithful adherent of the Sforza, on the first news of this insurrection, put himself at the head of a thousand horse and eight hundred foot, and arrived in hot haste at the gates of Forlì. The conspirators, divided in their counsels, and distracted by the decisive course which the Countess had adopted, fled from the town without waiting to resist, and thus the revolution was at an end. Within two short weeks Caterina had been a happy wife, a bereaved widow, an outraged prisoner, a triumphant sovereign. She remembered her sorrows signally to avenge them; she threw aside her weeds to assume a robe of triumph; and issuing from the castle, proclaimed her son Ottaviano, Count of Forlì.

But a deep stain attaches to the punishment which she must have sanctioned, if she did not direct it, and which was inflicted upon Count Orsi, father of the assassin, with an accumulation of horrors rarely exampled among even savage tribes. The old man, then in his eighty-sixth year, after being exposed on the great square to insults of the soldiery in presence of the whole populace, was bound to a board, and drawn twice round the piazza, his snow-white head projecting, and broken against the sharp stones; his quivering limbs were then hacked in pieces by armed ruffians, whose atrocious barbarities, as described by an eye-witness, are too revolting for detail. All this the sufferer endured with a heroism and resignation which produced on the spectators the usual effect of such brutal perversion of justice, and converted their abhorrence of the crime into sympathy with the criminal.

The murder of Count Girolamo took place on the 14th of April, 1488, and the news of it excited great consternation at the court of Urbino, which had always maintained a friendly footing with that of Riario, he being cousin to the Prefect of Sinigaglia, husband of Guidobaldo's sister. In the excited state of public feeling, men's minds caught greedily at any trivial circumstance on which to found a surmise as to the authors of the outrage, seeking for remote influences to account for what seems to have been merely an outbreak of private passion. The cries of "Church," which had mingled in the shouts of the excited populace, were interpreted as an indication of the Pope's privacy to a conspiracy, and doubts were entertained as to the part which he might take in the revolution. But such ideas were quickly dissipated. Whatever may have been the feelings of Innocent towards the dynasty established by his predecessor at Forlì, the occupation of that city by the Bolognese troops awakened his jealousy of the Bentivoglii. He therefore despatched couriers, instructing the Duke of Urbino to maintain at all hazards the legitimate government of Forlì, as indispensable to the peace of Italy, and for this purpose to hold himself in readiness for a march into Romagna, as soon as commissioners should arrive from Rome with a subsidy. Guidobaldo hastily assembled his troops, but ere the Pope's paymaster made his appearance, the prompt aid of Bentivoglio, and an army sent from Milan, had anticipated the service which he was commissioned to effect.

Although the youthful Duke of Urbino was but little concerned in these events of Italian history, they involved persons, and prepared the way for political combinations, which turned the scale of his after life, loading it with an undue portion of cares and sorrows. In absence of domestic incidents during his minority, we may vary the narrative by abstracting a few particulars from a volume of regulations for his court. Though trifling, they throw light on his personal habits, and supply an index to the civilisation of his age.[227] To all persons composing the ducal household, unexceptionable manners were indispensable. In those of higher rank there was further required competent talents and learning, a grave deportment and fluency of speech. The servants must be of steady habits and respectable character; regular in all private transactions; of good address, modest, and graceful; willing and neat-handed in their service. There is likewise inculcated the most scrupulous personal cleanliness, especially of hands, with particular injunctions as to frequent ablutions, and extraordinary precautions against the unpleasant effects of hot weather on their persons and clothing: in case of need medical treatment is enjoined to correct the breath. Those who wore livery had two suits a year, generally of fustian, though to some silk doublets were given for summer use. They had a mid-day meal and a supper: the former usually consisted of fruit, soup, and boiled meat; the latter of salads and boiled meat. This was varied on Fridays and vigil fasts by dinners of fish, eggs, and cheese; suppers of bread, wine, and salads. Saturdays were semi-fasts, when they dined on soup and eggs, and supped on soup and cheese. The upper table offered but few luxuries in addition to this plain fare, such as occasionally roasts, fowls, and pastry, with a more liberal allowance of eggs and cheese on meagre days.

Of the diet at the ducal table we find sparing and unsatisfactory notices; but its chief difference from that of the attendants seems to have consisted in the more liberal use of sweet herbs and fruits. The latter were presented in singular order: cherries and figs before dinner; after it, pears, apples, peaches, nuts, almonds; before supper, melons and grapes. The splendour of the table service seems to have been more looked to than its supplies; and many rules are given as to the covered silver platters in which meats were brought up, the silver goblets and glass caraffes for wine, the fine napery and the ornamental flowers. The regulations for the Duke's chamber service indicate scrupulous cleanliness, both as to ablutions in perfumed water, and frequent change of clothing, in strict conformance to the directions of physicians and astrologers. Among the conveniences enumerated for his bedroom are a bell, a night-light, and in cold weather a fire. An attendant slept by him without undressing, also a clerk in the guard-room within call. The music provided to accompany the Duke on his rides seems to have been somewhat miscellaneous—a company of bagpipers, a sackbut, four trumpets, three drums, with a herald or pursuivant. The qualities insisted on for ladies of the Duchess's household are exemplary gravity and unsullied honour; they must further be handy, addicted neither to gossip nor wrangling, and never talking unnecessarily in her presence.

We here reach an eventful epoch in the life of Guidobaldo. Baldi informs us that, when Duke Federigo went to Naples in 1474 to receive from Ferdinand the order of the Ermine he formally betrothed his son, then but two years and a half old, to Princess Lucrezia of Aragon. He adds that she corresponded with the Duke within a few months of his death, but gives no account of the circumstances under which this engagement was broken off. When Duke Guidobaldo had completed his sixteenth year, another alliance was contracted for him, to the great joy of his people, with Elisabetta (sometimes called Isabella) Gonzaga, youngest sister of Francesco Marquis of Mantua. She was daughter of the Marquis Federigo, by Margaretta daughter of Albert III. Duke of Bavaria: her virtues, her manners, and her almost unearthly beauty are extolled by Castiglione, in language which the evidence of all writers has stamped with truth.[*228] Her age exceeded the bridegroom's by one year, and her sister Madalena was at the same time betrothed to Giovanni Sforza, Lord of Pesaro, the celebration of both the nuptials being deferred until the end of October, 1489.