Many curious indications of the strange disorder and wretched state of Rome during these years may be gleaned from the prolix daily notices of these laborious old diarists.
On the 23rd of January, 1483, died "the poor old Cardinal de Rohan, who was robbed in life and robbed in death. For just before his death, Messer Bernardo de' Massimi" (a scion of a princely house!) "broke into his dwelling through the church of St. Apollinare, and robbed it of thirty thousand ducats' worth of richly wrought plate, with which he got clear off to Venice. And when the body was being carried to his burial, the friars of St. Augustin fought with the friars of Santa Maria Maggiore for certain gold brocade with which the corpse was covered, and belaboured each other with the torches. And then there was such a row that swords were drawn, and the rings that the corpse had on its fingers and the mitre on its head were stolen."
ROMAN ANECDOTES.
Here is another queer little picture furnished by the same anonymous "Notary of Nantiporto:"
One of the great Savelli family, the Signor Mariano, is a prisoner in St. Angelo. One night, the 25th of July, 1483, the cardinal-governor of the castle, the constable and other authorities are supping in the garden behind the fortress; and after supper sit playing cards till three in the morning. While they are thus engaged, Signor Mariano contrives to escape from the prison. At four A. M., armed men are searching all Rome for him, in vain; for he is safe out of the city. A bad business for the convives of that pleasant supper and card party; for that same day, Pope Sixtus, who does not like his prisoners to escape him, goes in person and in a great passion to St. Angelo, "and stayed there almost the whole day, and drove out the governor and the constable and the whole of the rest of the party."
Shortly afterwards we have the following anecdote preserved for us by Stefano Infessura:
A certain youth, one Messer Gianantonio di Parma, a deformed hunchback, and "monster of a man," grossly ignorant besides, and of infamous character, had paid down two hundred and fifty ducats to Count Girolamo, and promised a thousand to the Pope for a place. So Sixtus sends this promising youth to the Auditors of the Rota, the highest, most learned, and most respected legal body in Rome, with orders to admit him at once as one of their number! The members of that court demurred; humbly pointing out that it was contrary to all law and custom to appoint as Auditor of the Rota one not qualified by the usual preparatory degrees and examinations. The Pope, in reply, ordered a body of guards to march down to the court, and take all the members prisoners. But that grave and learned body, having received notice of what was coming, quickly broke up their sitting, and "stole off secretly, every man to his own house, not by the direct way, but by Trastevere, for fear of being caught and taken to prison." Hereupon Messer Gianantonio, baulked of his place, demanded his two hundred and fifty ducats back again from the Count. But it by no means suited that magnanimous Prince to refund. So he angrily answered that the money had been an unconditional gift! In which characteristic story, it is doubtful whether the Pope's audacious attempt, in despite of all law, decency, and reason, or the apparent ease with which the Papal vengeance was escaped, is the more strange.
But nothing is more curiously indicative of the disjointed state of society, and general disorder prevailing in these times, than the frequent apparent powerlessness of rulers wielding despotic authority to do as they would with things immediately, as it should seem, beneath their hand. Nothing works regularly. Appointed forces abdicate their functions; and the position of the baulked autocrat puts one in mind of that of the old woman of the nursery rhyme: "Fire won't burn rope,—rope won't hang man;" and the despot can't get over the small stile that impedes the path of his wishes. The immediate instruments of the tyrant's will, act as if he were a bad child or dangerous madman. If his orders can be evaded, or escaped from for the day, it is probable that the morrow may find him busy with some new freak of power. As there is no inviolable law, there is no certain line of demarcation between the criminal and the correct citizen. And all the mass of society is prepared to oppose at least such inert resistance as it can with safety, to the unreasonable will of an unrespected master.
TRAITS OF MANNERS.
Another curious trait of manners has been preserved by two of the diarists so frequently cited.[105] Girolamo had besieged and driven out the Colonnas from one of their castles in the neighbourhood of Rome. This achievement was of course made much of in the city; and a young painter, one Antonio, son of Giuliano, made the bombardment the subject of a picture. All the fight was, we are told, painted to the life with its various incidents and episodes. But in one corner of the picture, the painter, in one of those whimsical moods so often indulged in by the artists of that day, had represented[106] a lady in closer conversation with a Franciscan friar than was consistent with strict propriety. The painting was talked of; and to the poor painter's great delight, the Pope desired to see it. Sixtus was at first much pleased; but then observing the two figures above mentioned, he took it into his head that the lady was intended to represent the Countess Catherine. Whereupon, without further ado, he ordered the painter to be put on the rack, and then hung,—his house to be sacked, and all his and his father's substance confiscated. All of which was done, except the hanging, for which exile was substituted, on the pretext that the offender was little better than crazy.