"This is the manner in which Pope Alexander VI. came to his death.
"The cardinal datary, Arian de Corneto, having received a gracious intimation that the pontiff, together with the Duke Valentinos, designed to come and sup with him at his vineyard, and that his Holiness would bring the supper with him, the cardinal suspected that this determination had been taken for the purpose of destroying his life by poison, to the end that the duke might have his riches and appointments, the rather as he knew that the pope had resolved to put him to death by some means, with a view to seizing his property as I have said,—which was very great. Considering of the means by which he might save himself, he could see but one hope of safety—he sent in good time to the pope's carver, with whom he had a certain intimacy, desiring that he would come to speak with him; who, when he had come to the said cardinal, was taken by him into a secret place, where, they two being retired, the cardinal showed the carver a sum, prepared beforehand, of 10,000 ducats, in gold, which the said cardinal persuaded the carver to accept as a gift and to keep for love of him, and after many words, they were at length accepted, the cardinal offering, moreover, all the rest of his wealth at his command—for he was a very rich cardinal, for he said that he could not keep the said riches by any other means than through the said carver's aid, and declared to him, 'You know of a certainty what the nature of the pope is, and I know that he has resolved, with the Duke Valentinos, to procure my life by poison, through your hand,'—wherefore he besought the carver to take pity on him, and to give him his life. And having said this, the carver declared to him the manner in which it was ordered that the poison should be given to him at the supper, but being moved to compassion he promised to preserve his life. Now the orders were that the carver should present three boxes of sweetmeats, in tablets or lozenges, after the supper, one to the pope, one to the said cardinal, and another to the duke, and in that for the cardinal there was poison: and thus being told, the said cardinal gave directions to the aforesaid carver in what manner he should serve them, so as to cause that the box of poisoned confect which was to be for the cardinal, should be placed before the pope, so that he might eat thereof, and so poison himself, and die. And the pope being come accordingly with the duke to supper on the day appointed, the cardinal threw himself at his feet, kissing them and embracing them closely; then he entreated his Holiness with most affectionate words, saying, he would never rise from those feet until his Holiness had granted him a favour. Being questioned by the pontiff what this favour was, and requested to rise up, he would first have the grace he demanded, and the promise of his Holiness to grant it. Now after much persuasion, the pope remained sufficiently astonished, seeing the perseverance of the cardinal, and that he would not rise, and promised to grant the favour. Then the cardinal rose up and said, 'Holy Father, it is not fitting that when the master comes to the house of his servant, the servant should eat with his master like an equal (confrezer parimente),' and therefore the grace he demanded was the just and honest one, that he, the servant, should wait at the table of his master; and this favour the pope granted him. Then having come to supper, and the time for serving the confectionery having arrived, the carver put the poisoned sweetmeats into the box, according to the first order given to him by the pope, and the cardinal being well informed as to which box had no poison, tasted of that one, and put the poisoned confect before the pope. Then his Holiness, trusting to his carver, and seeing the cardinal tasting, judged that no poison was there, and ate of it heartily; while of the other, which the pope thought was poisoned, but which was not, the cardinal ate. Now at the hour accustomed, according to the quality of that poison, his Holiness began to feel its effect, and so died thereof; but the cardinal, who was yet much afraid, having physicked himself and vomited, took no harm and escaped, though not without difficulty."—Sanuto, iv., Translation in Ranke's Hist. of the Popes.
The wine of the Vatican hill has had a bad reputation even from classical times. "If you like vinegar," wrote Martial, "drink the wine of the Vatican!"[376] and again, "To drink the wine of the Vatican is to drink poison."[377]
(Here, also, is the entrance of the Val d' Inferno, a pleasant winter walk, where, near the beginning of the Cork Woods, are some picturesque remains of an ancient nymphæum.)
The Porta Angelica, built by Pius IV. (1559—1566), leads into the Borgo, beneath the walls of the Vatican.
Those who return from hence to the English quarter in the evening, will realize the vividness of Miss Thackeray's description:—
"They passed groups standing round their doorways; a blacksmith hammering with great straight blows at a copper pot, shouting to a friend, a young baker, naked almost, except for a great sheet flung over his shoulders, and leaning against the door of his shop. The horses tramp on. Listen to the flow of fountains gleaming white against the dark marbles,—to the murmur of voices. An old lady, who has apparently hung all her wardrobe out of window, in petticoats and silk hankerchiefs, is looking out from beneath these banners at the passers in the streets. Little babies, tied up tight in swaddling-clothes, are being poised against their mother's hips; a child is trying to raise the great knocker of some feudal-looking arch, hidden in the corner of the street. Then they cross the bridge, and see the last sun's rays flaming from the angel's sacred sword. Driving on through the tranquil streets, populous and thronged with citizens, they see brown-faced, bronze-headed Torsos in balconies and window-frames; citizens sitting tranquilly, resting on the kerb-stones, with their feet in the gutters; grand-looking women resting against their doorways. Sibyls out of the Sistine were sitting on the steps of the churches. In one stone archway sat the Fates spinning their web. There was a holy family by a lemonade-shop, and a whole heaven of little Coreggio angels perching dark-eyed along the road. Then comes a fountain falling into a marble basin, at either end of which two little girls are clinging and climbing. Here is a little lighted May-altar to the Virgin, which the children have put up under the shrine by the street-corner. They don't beg clamorously, but stand leaning against the wall, waiting for a chance miraculous baioch?"—Bluebeard's Keys.
CHAPTER XX.
THE JANICULAN.
Gate of Sto. Spirito—Church, Convent, and Garden of S. Onofrio—The Lungara—Palazzo Salviati and the Botanic-Garden—S. Giovanni alla Lungara—Palazzo Corsini—The Farnesina—Porta Settimiana—S. Pietro in Montorio—Fontana Paolina—Villa Lante—Porta and Church of S. Pancrazio—Villa Doria-Pamfili—Chapel of St. Andrew's Head.
THE Janiculan is a steep crest of hill which rises abruptly on the west bank of the Tiber, and breaks imperceptibly away on the other side into the Campagna towards Civita Vecchia. Its lower formation is a marine clay abounding in fossils, but its upper surface is formed of the yellow sand which gave it the ancient name of Mons Aureus,—still commemorated in Montorio—S. Pietro in Montorio.