For a moment his troops wavered, dismayed by their leader's fall; but revenge and a consciousness of their perilous position rendered them desperate. The assertion of Mambrino Roseo, that the Swiss guard disputed every inch of the breach until only a drummer was left alive, wants confirmation from those narratives of eye-witnesses which I have examined. Be this as it may, it was about half-past eight that the first detachment, who had made their way into the Borgo, were observed by Renzo da Ceri. Instead of cutting them down with the body of horse who followed him, he in a loud voice gave the sauve qui peut, and, galloping round by the Ponte Sisto, reached that of S. Angelo, where he recklessly crushed and trod down the citizens, already rushing across it in masses to the castle.[*6] Had this craven caitiff rallied his men to the breach, it might have been repaired; and had he but held the Porta Settimiana, or even now cut the lower bridges, the invaders would have been confined within a small district of the city, until Guido Rangone arrived with succours.
The panic thus originated by the city's defender spread rapidly in all quarters. The Pontiff, who, from his chair in S. Peter's, had been thundering spiritual menaces against the foe, was hurried along the covered passage to S. Angelo, whither also flocked the cardinals, clergy, and citizens of all ranks, in such crowds that it was found impossible to close the gates. At length the portcullis was dropped, with great difficulty from its rusty condition, and several cardinals, who had been excluded, were afterwards drawn up in baskets. The terrified crowd who were thus shut out, rushed to escape by the city gates, but, finding these closed, they dispersed themselves among the palaces of the Ghibelline cardinals, upon which they vainly relied as sure asylums.
About three thousand got into the castle, with fourteen cardinals. It was very ill supplied with provisions, and the neighbouring shops were hurriedly emptied of whatever stores they contained. The Pontiff, in his alarm, would have attempted flight, but Bourbon's death inspired him with some hope of making terms. In fact, the besiegers, who had at first rushed in with cries of "Hurrah for Spain! slay! slay!" soon paused, discouraged by the loss of their leader, and anticipating a desperate resistance. In this state of matters, the Portuguese ambassador was authorised by his Holiness to propose an accommodation to the imperialist chiefs, who, finding themselves in possession of but a fraction of the city, with walls and gates on either side excluding them from the S. Spirito and Trastevere quarters, temporised for some hours. But as the bulk of their army entered at S. Pancrazio, and they ascertained the panic in the town, their misgivings passed away, and about two hours before sunset they suddenly advanced through the Porta Settimiana, in Via Lungara. Encouraged by its defenceless state, they pushed across the Ponte Sisto, which they found equally unguarded, and spread like a deluge over the devoted city.
Now began the horrors of the sack. The brutal soldiery, absolved from discipline, scoured the city at will, penetrating unchallenged into the most secret and most sacred places.[*7] Churches and convents, palaces and houses, were invaded and rifled; resistance was punished with fire and sword; rape and murder were the fate of the inhabitants. Passing over details too revolting for the imagination to supply, but too repulsive for a place in these pages, we may cite the feeling exclamations of one who seems to have witnessed them:—"Alas! how many courtiers, gentlemen, and prelates, how many devout nuns, matrons, and maidens became a prey to these savages! What chalices, images, crucifixes, vessels of silver and gold, were torn from the altars by these sacrilegious hands! What holy relics were dashed to the ground with derisive blasphemy by these brutal Lutherans! The heads of Saints Peter, Paul, Andrew, and of many others, the wood of the sacred Cross, the blessed oil, and the sacramental wafers, were ruthlessly trodden upon. The streets exhibited heaps of rich furniture, vestments, and plate, all the wealth and splendour of the Roman court, pillaged by the basest ruffians."[8]
After these miserable scenes had endured for three days, rumours of the Duke of Urbino's approach recalled the imperialist leaders to the necessity of defence.[*9] The command having devolved upon the Prince of Orange, a yellow-haired barbarian, further plunder was prohibited, under severe penalties; and the army, reduced to comparative order, betook themselves to enjoy their booty. But now a new drama of atrocities opened. The Germans had especially distinguished themselves by a thirst for blood, but the wily Spaniards taught them a means more effectual than murder of enriching themselves and punishing their victims. The prisoners had, in most cases, concealed whatever of greatest value they possessed, and recourse was had to every variety of torment in order to extract from them supposed treasures, and a ransom for their lives; so that those who had been spared in seeming mercy found themselves but reserved for a worse fate. After stripes and blows had been exhausted, when hunger and thirst had failed to force compliance, tortures the most brutal succeeded. Some were suspended naked from their own windows by a sensitive limb, or swung head downwards, and momentarily threatened to be let drop into the street. Others had their teeth drawn slowly and singly, or were compelled to swallow their own mutilated and roasted members. Others were forced to perform the most odious and menial services; and the greatest extremities were always used towards those who were suspected of being the most wealthy and noble. Even after the desired amount of gold had been thus extorted from them, their sufferings were sometimes resumed at the instance of new tormentors. When such cruelties palled, their inflictors had recourse to a novel amusement, by forcing from the victims a confession of their sins; and we are assured by the narrator of these enormities, himself a Roman, that the iniquities thus brought to light, as habitual in that dissolute capital, were such as to confound even the licentious soldiery of Bourbon. Over the outrages committed upon the women we draw a veil: when lust was satiated, they were prolonged in diabolical punishment, the husbands and fathers being compulsory witnesses to such unspeakable atrocities.
But the delight of these sacrilegious villains, especially of the German Lutherans, was to outrage everything holy. The churches and chapels, including the now bloodstained St. Peter's, were desecrated into stables, taverns, or brothels; and the choirs, whence no sounds had breathed but the elevating chant of prayer and praise, rang with base ribaldry and blasphemous imprecations. The grand creations of religious art were wantonly insulted or damaged; the reliquaries and miraculous images were pillaged or defaced. Nay, a poor priest was inhumanly murdered for his firm refusal to administer the blessed sacrament to an ass. Nor was any respect paid to persons or party feelings. The subjects of the Emperor who happened to be in Rome, the adherents of the Colonna and other Ghibelline leaders, were all involved in the general fate. Four cardinals attached to that faction had declined entering S. Angelo, calculating that they would not only
"Guide the whirlwind and direct the storm,"
but peradventure, promote their own interests in the mêlée. They were, however, miserably mistaken, for they, too, were held to ransom; and one of them (Aracoeli), after being often led through the streets tied on a donkey, behind a common soldier, was carried to church with mock funereal rites, when the office of the dead was read over his living body, and an oration pronounced, wherein, for eulogy, were loathsomely related all the real or alleged immoralities of his past life. Another outrage in especial repute with the Germans, was a ribald procession, in which some low buffoon in sacred vestments was borne shoulder-high, scattering mock benedictions among the mob, amid shouts of "Long live Luther!"
A great portion of the circulating wealth of the city was centred in the Strada de' Banchi, which, from being in a line with the castle and just across the river, was considered comparatively secure. But this fallacious hope quickly vanished, and during five hours that quarter of bankers, merchants, and jewellers was savagely sacked in sight of the papal court. In one of these shops a large money bag being discovered, a general scramble ensued for its contents, and forty-two of the soldiery lost their lives at their comrades' hands, fighting for what proved to be counterfeit coin. The Jews, who were not then enclosed in the Ghetto, suffered a full share of such miseries, to make them disgorge their secret treasures. Vast multitudes of citizens took refuge in the palaces of the cardinals and principal nobility, especially of those supposed to be friendly to the imperial interests; but these asylums were seldom respected. That of the Cancelleria, originally built by Cardinal Pietro Riario, and still one of the most spacious in the capital, was long spared; but on the 20th of May its turn came; and as it was the last to be pillaged, the outrages perpetrated upon its miserable inmates, including numerous ecclesiastical and diplomatic dignitaries, with a crowd of the high-born beauties of Rome, were perhaps the most signal and sanguinary of all. In other palaces the fugitives, though spared from violence, were held to ransom. The Dowager Marchioness of Mantua purchased immunity for her residence with 10,000 ducats, which the merchants whom it sheltered joined in paying, and which her son Ferdinando, one of the imperial leaders, was said to have basely shared. In the Vatican MS. is a backbond, signed by about five hundred persons, who had sought refuge in the palace of Cardinal Andrea della Valle, obliging themselves to repay, in sums varying from 10 to 4000 scudi each, the ransom of 40,000 ducats which he had advanced. Among the names is the King of Cyprus, and, what may have more interest for us, that of Peter Hustan from Scotland. The English Cardinal of St. Cecilia, Thomas Usher, Archbishop of York, was one of those who escaped into the castle.