as this living,
burning passion which gives him his preeminence as a poet. He had
mannerisms, it is true, and much that he wrote is apt to appear stilted
to the ordinary English reader, but such mannerisms are only the
national characteristics of most Italian poetry and must be viewed in
that light. On the other hand, Ariosto's evident sincerity is in
striking contrast to the cold, intellectual, amatory verse of Lorenzo
de' Medici, which was, in truth, but an aesthetic diversion for that
brilliant prince. And even this was due to the inspiration he received
from the sight of a fair lady, many years his senior, for whom he had a
most distant, formal, Platonic affection, while it never dawned upon him
that his own wife's beauty might deserve a sonnet now and then.

CHAPTER VIII

THE BORGIAS AND THE BAD WOMEN OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY

Things went from bad to worse, as is their habit, and Italian life in
the sixteenth century shows an increasing corruption and a laxity in
public morals which were but the natural result of the free-thinking
Renaissance. The Church had completely lost its influence as the
spiritual head of Europe, and had become but a hypocritical
principality, greedy for temporal power, and openly trafficking in
ecclesiastical offices which were once supposed to belong by right to
men of saintly lives; it is probable that this barefaced profligacy of
the papal court was responsible for the widespread moral inertia which
was characteristic of the time. The pontiff's chair at the dawn of this
century was filled by Roderigo Borgia, known as Alexander VI., and it
may well be said that his career of crime and lust gave the keynote to
the society which was to follow him. By means of most open bribery he
had been elected to his office, but, in spite of these well-known facts,
his advent was hailed with great joy and his march to the Vatican was a
veritable triumph. Contemporary historians unite in praising him at this
time in his career, for as a cardinal he had been no worse in his
immoralities than many of his colleagues; and he was a man of commanding
presence and marked abilities, who seemed to embody the easy grace and
indifference of his day. It was said of him as he rode to assume the
mantle of Saint Peter: "He sits upon a snow-white horse, with serene
forehead, with commanding dignity. How admirable is the mild composure
of his mien! how noble his countenance! his glance--how free!" And it
was sa