The truth is, that although the Dukes of Urbino figure everywhere as friends of learning and patrons of art, no work has yet appeared establishing their especial claim to such distinction, in a land where courts abounded and dilettanteship was a fashion. That of Riposati has indeed given us the series of these sovereigns, but his biographical sketches are meagre, and chiefly illustrative of their coinage. The lives of Dukes Federigo and Francesco Maria I., by Muzio and Leoni, are excessively rare; Baldi's crude biographies are either recently and obscurely published, or remain in manuscript. Out of Italy these authors are scarcely known. This paucity of illustration is not, however, the only cause why these princes have continued in unmerited obscurity. Whilst endeavouring to guard himself against undue hero-worship, and to subject the policy and character of those sovereigns to the tests within his reach, the author has been obliged in some instances to assume the functions of an advocate, and to defend them from charges unjustly or inadvisedly brought. This will be especially found in the life of Duke Francesco Maria I., who, as the victim of Leo X., and the opponent of Florence, has met with scanty justice from the three standard historians of that age in Italy, France, and England. The patriotism of Guicciardini, as a Florentine, was inherently provincial; as a partisan of the Medici, he had no sympathies with a prince whom they hated with the loathing of ingratitude; as an annalist he never forgot the day when he had cowered before the lofty spirit at the council-board. All that he has written of Francesco Maria is therefore tinged with gall, and his authority has been too implicitly followed by Sismondi, who, uniformly biassed against princes by his democratic prejudices, and seeing in Guicciardini an eminent denizen of a nominal republic, and in the Duke a petty autocrat, decided their respective merits accordingly. Again, Roscoe could save the consistency and justice of Leo only by misrepresenting the character of his early friend and eventual victim, and has not shrunk from the sacrifice. It has thus happened that, whilst ordinary readers have scanty access to details regarding Urbino and its dynasties, these names have been unduly excluded from many a page in Italian annals which they were well qualified to adorn.[4]
To separate from the tangled web of Italian story threads of local and individual interest would be fatal to unity of texture and subject. It will, therefore, be necessary to treat Urbino and its Dukes as integral portions of the Ausonian community, and, while distinguishing every characteristic detail, to view them as subsidiary to the general current of events. But, since this course offers at every moment temptations to launch our tiny bark on a stream perilous to its pilot, prudence will keep us mostly among those eddies which, unheeded by more skilful mariners, may afford leisure for minute observation. If it be thought that the martial renown of Federigo and Francesco Maria I. merited more ample accounts of their campaigns, we may plead that arms are but a portion of our object. To mankind battle-fields are instructive chiefly from their results; while foreign and domestic policy, the progress of civilisation and manners, of letters and art, are in every respect themes of profitable inquiry.
In a work undertaken with the hope of attracting general readers to the history and arts of Italy, controversial disquisitions would be misplaced. The student may detect occasional attempts to reconcile contradictory narratives and jarring conclusions; but religious discussion is excluded from these pages. The author is a Protestant by birth and by conviction, but it has been his endeavour to judge with candour, and speak with respect, of a Church which is the "parent of our religion," and which, during a great portion of his narrative, was catholic in the strict sense of that often misapplied term. He has mentioned without flattery, extenuation, or malice, such private virtues and vices of the various pontiffs as fell within the scope of his inquiry, leaving it to others to fix the delicate line which is supposed to divide personal errors from papal infallibility.
A considerable portion of these volumes was written in Italy, before the close of Pope Gregory's reign, and under impressions formed upon the existing state of the country. It has been their author's good fortune to know much of that attractive land during the last twenty years of the long peace, and to admire her substantial prosperity and steady progress. Between 1825 and 1846 he has seen in her cities new streets and squares rising, thoroughfares opened, gas-lights generally introduced, ruinous houses substantially rebuilt, crumbling churches and palaces renovated, shops enlarged and beautified, cafés, hotels, and baths multiplied and decorated, public drives and gardens created, equipages rivalling those of northern capitals, museums formed, galleries enriched, the dress and comforts of the population greatly improved, the street nuisances of Rome removed, the lazzaroni of Naples clothed.
In the rural districts he has observed cultivation spreading, waste lands reclaimed, irrigation and drainage carried on, the great highways rendered excellent, whole provinces opened up by new roads, railways rapidly extending, rivers and torrents bridged, palatial villas springing up round the towns and watering-places, banditti suppressed, the peasantry ameliorated in aspect. He has learnt, from crowded ports and spreading factories, that capital was increasing and industry being developed.
He has also noticed that, without organic changes, the political condition of the people was being modified; that Tuscany enjoyed the mildest of paternal governments; that in Lombardy, Piedmont, and Naples, many repressive statutes were in abeyance; that in Turin and Florence restraints upon the press were tacitly being relaxed; that scientific congresses were generally permitted, and political economy freely discussed; whilst, in regard to Rome, he ascertained the practical truth of a popular sarcasm, that prohibitory laws were usually binding but for three days.
While conscious of all this progress, the author felt that much remained to be done. He knew that the advance of the country was only comparative, and rendered more apparent by her long previous stagnation. He daily had before him solecisms in policy, errors of administration, official indolence or corruption; above all, ample proofs that priests were no longer adapted for ministers of state. He believed that intellect was needlessly or unwisely shackled, and that, to ardent or speculative minds, the full blaze of knowledge might be less deceptive than a compulsory twilight.
But, on the other hand, he was deeply convinced that, in material welfare, the Italian people were already far above the average; that any sudden change was more likely to endanger than to augment it; that, to a nation so listless yet so impressionable, so credulous but so suspicious, self-government was a questionable boon; at all events, that the mass of its present generation was infinitely too ignorant and unpractised, possibly too conceited and self-seeking, to comprehend the theory of a constitution, or to perform the duties it would necessarily impose. He knew further, that those who vaguely longed for change were usually blind to the benefits which their country already enjoyed, and had no definite or plausible plan for the removal of its grievances without perilling its advantages. He felt satisfied that, should an occasion ever present itself for testing their Utopian theories, native leaders, united in aims and worthy of their reliance, would be wanting. The movement party in Italy then scarcely numbered a man who had a considerable property to stake, a social position to lend him influence, or tried business habits to gain the confidence of his fellow-citizens. Those who stood prepared to pilot the vessel through revolutionary storms were, for the most part, persons whose detected intrigues, or rash outbreaks, had already driven them, with little credit, into exile, where, cut off from intercourse with home, and associating chiefly with kindred spirits expelled from other lands, they forgot much which it was important to keep in view, and learned little of that candour and moderation which are the true leaven of politics. Neglecting there those practical reforms of which Italy stood really in need, they devoted themselves to one idea. They set up the phantom of political unity as a new faith; they decreed that its worship should be the condition of their country's resurrection, and that all who demurred to it should be hunted down. Had they read Dante, or remembered what they hourly had seen, heard, and said in their native land, they would have known that their idol, like the image in Nebuchadnezzar's dream,[5] was of incongruous and incompatible materials; that their unitarian scheme was antipathic to every passion and prejudice of those upon whom they would thrust it.