t may be said in general of the despotisms of the fifteenth century
that the greatest crimes are most frequent in the smallest States. In
these, where the family was numerous and all the members wished to live
in a manner befitting their rank, disputes respecting the inheritance
were unavoidable. Bernardo Varano of Camerino put (1434) two of his
brothers to death, wishing to divide their property among his sons.
Where the ruler of a single town was distinguished by a wise, moderate,
and humane government, and by zeal for intellectual culture, he was
generally a member of some great family, or politically [ dependent on
it. This was the case, for example, with Alessandro Sforza, Prince of
Pesaro, brother of the great Francesco, and stepfather of Federigo of
Urbino (d. 1473). Prudent in administration, just and affable in his
rule, he enjoyed, after ; years of warfare, a tranquil reign, collected
a noble library, and passed his leisure in learned or religious
conversation. A man of the same class was Giovanni II Bentivoglio of
Bologna (1463-1508), whose policy was determined by that of the Este
and the Sforza. What ferocity and bloodthirstiness is found, on the
other hand, among the Varani of Camerino, the Malatesta of Rimini, the
Manfreddi of Faenza, and above all among the Baglioni of Perugia. We
find a striking picture of the events in the last-named family towards
the close of the fifteenth century, in the admirable historical
narratives of Graziani and Matarazzo.
The Baglioni were one of those families whose rule never took the shape
of an avowed despotism. It was rather a leadership exercised by means
of their vast wealth and of their practical influence in the choice of
public officers. Within the family one man was recognized as head; but
deep and secret jealousy prevailed among the members of the different
branches. Opposed to the Baglioni stood another aristocratic party, led
by the family of the Oddi. In 1487 the city was turned into a camp, and
the houses of the leading citizens swarmed with bravos; scenes of
violence were of daily occurrence. At t he burial of a German student,
who had been assassinated, two colleges took arms against one another;
sometimes the bravos of the different houses even joined battle in the
public square. The complaints of the merchants and artisans were vain;
the Papal Governors and nipoti held their tongues, or took themselves
off on the first opportunity. At last the Oddi were forced to abandon
Perugia, and the city became a beleaguered fortress under the absolute
despotism of the Baglioni, who used even the cathedral as barracks.
Plots and surprises were met with cruel vengeance; in the year 1491
after 130 conspirators, who had forced their way into the city, were
killed and hung up at the Palazzo Communale, thirty-five altars were
erected in the square, and for three days mass was performed and
processions held, to take away the curse which rested on the spot. A
nipote of Innocent VIII was in open day run through in the street. A
nipote of Alexander VI, who was sent to smooth matters over, was
dismissed with public contempt. All the while the two leaders of the
ruling house, Guido and Ridolfo, were holding frequent interviews with
Suor Colomba of Rieti, a Dominican nun of saintly reputation and
miraculous powers, who under penalty of some great disaster ordered
them to make peace naturally in vain. Nevertheless the chronicle takes
the opportunity to point out the devotion and piety of the better men
in Perugia during this reign of terror. When in 1494 Charles VIII
approached, the Baglioni from Perugia and the exiles encamped in and
near Assisi conducted the war with such ferocity that every house in
the valley was levelled to the ground. The fields lay untilled. the
peasants were turned into plundering and murdering savages, the fresh-grown
bushes were filled with stags and wolves, and the beasts grew fat
on the bodies of the slain, on so-called 'Christian flesh.' When
Alexander VI withdrew (1495) into Umbria before Charles VIII, then
returning from Naples, it occurred to him, when at Perugia, that he
might now rid himself of the Baglioni once for all; he proposed to
Guido a festival or tournament, or something else of the same kind,
which would bring the whole family together. Guido, however, was of
opinion 'that the most impressive spectacle of all would be to see the
whole military force of Perugia collected in a body,' whereupon the
Pope abandoned his project. Soon after, the exiles made another attack
in which nothing but the personal heroism of the Baglioni won them the
victory. It was then that Simonetto Baglione, a lad of scarcely
eighteen, fought in the square with a handful of followers against
hundreds of the enemy: he fell at last with more than twenty wounds,
but recovered himself when Astorre Baglione came to his help, and
mounting on horseback in gilded amour with a falcon on his helmet,
'like Mars in bearing and in deeds, plunged into the struggle.'
At that time Raphael, a boy of twelve years of age, was at school under
Pietro Perugino. The impressions of these days are perhaps immortalized
in the small, early pictures of St. Michael and St. George: something
of them, it may be, lives eternally in the large painting of St.
Michael: and if Astorre Baglione has anywhere found his apotheosis, it
is in the figure of the heavenly horseman in the Heliodorus.
The opponents of the Baglioni were partly destroyed, partly scattered
in terror, and were henceforth incapable of another enterprise of the
kind. After a time a partial reconciliation took place, and some of the
exiles were allowed to return. But Perugia became none the safer or
more tranquil: the inward discord of the ruling family broke out in
frightful excesses. An opposition was formed against Guido and Ridolfo
and their sons Gianpaolo, Simonetto, Astorre, Gismondo, Gentile,
Marcantonio and others, by two great-nephews, Grifone and Carlo
Barciglia; the latter of the two was also nephew of Varano Prince of
Camerino, and brother-in-law of one of the former exiles, Gerolamo
della Penna. In vain did Simonetto, warned by sinister presentiment,
entreat his uncle on his knees to allow him to put Penna to death:
Guido refused. The plot ripened suddenly on the occasion of the
marriage of Astorre with Lavinia Colonna, at Midsummer, 1500. The
festival began and lasted several days amid gloomy forebodings, whose
deepening effect is admirably described by Matarazzo. Varano himself
encouraged them with devilish ingenuity: he worked upon Grifone by the
prospect of undivided authority, and by stories of an imaginary
intrigue of his wife Zenobia with Gianpaolo. Finally each conspirator
was provided with a victim. (The Baglioni lived all of them in separate
houses, mostly on the site of the pre sent castle.) Each received
fifteen of the bravos at hand; the remainder were set on the watch. In
the night of July 15 the doors were forced, and Guido, Astorre,
Simonetto, and Gismondo were murdered; the others succeeded in
escaping.
As the corpse of Astorre lay by that of Simonetto in the street, the
spectators, 'and especially the foreign students,' compared him to an
ancient Roman, so great and imposing did he seem. In the features of
Simonetto could still be traced the audacity and defiance which death
itself had not tamed. The victors went round among the friends of the
family, and did their best to recommend themselves; they found all in
tears and preparing to leave for the country. Meantime the escaped
Baglioni collected forces without the city, and on the following day
forced their way in, Gianpaolo at their head, and speedily found
adherents among others whom Barciglia had been threatening with death.
When Grifone fell into their hands near Sant' Ercolano, Gianpaolo
handed him over for execution to his followers. Barciglia and Penna
fled to Varano, the chief author of the tragedy, at Camerino; and in a
moment, almost without loss, Gianpaolo became master of the city.
Atalanta, the still young and beautiful mother of Grifone, who the day
before had withdrawn to a country house with the latter's wife Zenobia
and two children of Gianpaolo, and more than once had repulsed her son
with a mother's curse, now returned with her daughter-in-law in search
of the dying man. All stood aside as the two women approached, each man
shrinking from being recognized as the slayer of Grifone, and dreading
the malediction of the mother. But they were deceived: she herself
besought her son to pardon him who had dealt the fatal blow, and he
died with her blessing. The eyes of the crowd followed the two women
reverently as they crossed the square with blood-stained garments. It
was Atalanta for whom Raphael afterwards painted the world-famous
'Deposition,' with which she laid her own maternal sorrows at the feet
of a yet higher and holier suffering.
The cathedral, in the immediate neighbourhood of which the greater part
of this tragedy had been enacted, was washed with wine and consecrated
afresh. The triumphal arch, erected for the wedding, still remained
standing, painted with the deeds of Astorre and with the laudatory
verses of the narrator of these events, the worthy Matarazzo.
A legendary history, which is simply the reflection of these
atrocities, arose out of the early days of the Baglioni. All the
members of this family from the beginning were reported to have died an
evil death twenty-seven on one occasion together; their houses were
said to have been once before levelled to the ground, and the streets
of Perugia paved with the bricks and more of the same kind. Under Paul
III the destruction of their palaces really took place.
For a time they seemed to have formed good resolutions, to have brought
their own party into power, and to have protected the public officials
against the arbitrary acts of the nobility. But the old curse broke out
again like a smoldering fire. In 1520 Gianpaolo was enticed to Rome
under Leo X, and there beheaded; one of his sons, Orazio, who ruled in
Perugia for a short time only, and by the most violent means, as the
partisan of the Duke of Urbino (himself threatened by the Pope), once
before repeated in his own family the horrors of the past. His uncle
and three cousins were murdered, whereupon the Duke sent him word that
enough had been done. His brother, Malatesta Baglione, the Florentine
general, has made himself immortal by the treason of 1530; and
Malatesta's son Ridolfo, the last of the house, attained, by the murder
of the legate and the public officers in the year 1534, a brief but
sanguinary authority. We shall meet again with the names of the rulers
of Rimini. Unscrupulousness, impiety, military skill, and high culture
have been seldom combined in one individual as in Sigismondo Malatesta
(d. 1467). But the accumulated crimes of such a family must at last
outweigh all talent, however great, and drag the tyrant into the abyss.
Pandolfo, Sigismondo's nephew, who has been mentioned already,
succeeded in holding his ground, for the sole reason that the Venetians
refused to abandon their Condottiere, whatever guilt he might be
chargeable with; when his subjects (1497), after ample provocation,
bombarded him in his castle at Rimini, and afterwards allowed him to
escape, a Venetian commissioner brought him back, stained as he was
with fratricide and every other abomination. Thirty years later the
Malatesta were penniless exiles. In the year 1527, as in the time of
Cesare Borgia, a sort of epidemic fell on the petty tyrants; few of
them outlived this date, and none to t heir own good. At Mirandola,
which was governed by insignificant princes of the house of Pico, lived
in the year 1533 a poor scholar, Lilio Gregorio Giraldi, who had fled
from the sack of Rome to the hospitable hearth of the aged Giovanni
Francesco Pico, nephew of the famous Giovanni; the discussions as to
the sepulchral monument which the prince was constructing f or himself
gave rise to a treatise, the dedication of which bears the date of
April of this year. The postscript is a sad one. In October of the same
year the unhappy prince was attacked in the night and robbed of life
and throne by his brother's son; and I myself escaped narrowly, and am
now in the deepest misery.'
A near-despotism, without morals or principles, such as Pandolfo
Petrucci exercised from after 1490 in Siena, then torn by faction, is
hardly worth a closer consideration. Insignificant and malicious, he
governed with the help of a professor of juris prudence and of an
astrologer, and frightened his people by an occasional murder. His
pastime in the summer months was to roll blocks of stone from the top
of Monte Amiata, without caring what or whom they hit. After
succeeding, where the most prudent failed, in escaping from the devices
of Cesare Borgia, he died at last forsaken and despised. His sons
maintained a qualified supremacy for many years afterwards.