ntury, taking account of her religious deadness
and moral corruption, estimating the absence of political vigor in the
republics and the noxious tyranny of the despots, analyzing her lack of
national spirit, and comparing her splendid life of cultivated ease with
the want of martial energy, we can see but too plainly that contact with
a simpler and stronger people could not but produce a terrible
catastrophe. The Italians themselves, however, were far from
comprehending this. Centuries of undisturbed internal intrigue had
accustomed them to play the game of forfeits with each other, and
nothing warned them that the time was come at which diplomacy, finesse,
and craft would stand them in ill stead against rapacious conquerors.

The storm which began to gather over Italy in the year 1492 had its
first beginning in the North. Lodovico Sforza's position in the Duchy of
Milan was becoming every day more difficult, when a slight and to all
appearances insignificant incident converted his apprehension of danger
into panic. It was customary for the states of Italy to congratulate a
new pope on his election by their ambassadors; and this ceremony had now
to be performed for Roderigo Borgia. Lodovico proposed that his envoys
should go to Rome together with those of Venice, Naples, and Florence;
but Piero de' Medici, whose vanity made him wish to send an embassy in
his own name, contrived that Lodovico's proposal should be rejected
both by Florence and the King of Naples. So strained was the situation
of Italian affairs that Lodovico saw in the repulse a menace to his own
usurped authority. Feeling himself isolated among the princes of his
country, rebuffed by the Medici, and coldly treated by the King of
Naples, he turned in his anxiety to France, and advised the young king,
Charles VIII., to make good his claim upon the Regno. It was a bold move
to bring the foreigner thus into Italy; and even Lodovico, who prided
himself upon his sagacity, could not see how things would end. He
thought his situation so hazardous, however, that any change must be for
the better. Moreover, a French invasion of Naples would tie the hands of
his natural foe, King Ferdinand, whose grand-daughter, Isabella of
Aragon, had married Giovanni Galeazzo Sforza, and was now the rightful
Duchess of Milan. When the Florentine ambassador at Milan asked him how
he had the courage to expose Italy to such peril, his reply betrayed the
egotism of his policy: "You ta