plebat, os apertum et adeo horribile quod nemo viderit unquam vel esse
tale dixerit."

Two carpenters waited in the chapel with the coffin which they had
brought; but, either through carelessness it had been made too narrow
and too short, or else the body, owing to its swollen condition, did
not readily fit into this receptable; whereupon, removing the mitre, for
which there was no room, they replaced it by a piece of old carpet, and
set themselves to force and pound the corpse into the coffin. And this
was done "without candle or any light being burned in honour of the
dead, and without the presence of any priest or other person to care
for the Pope's remains." No explanation of this is forthcoming; it was
probably due to the panic earlier occasioned the clergy by the ducal
men-at-arms.

The story that he had been poisoned was already spreading like a
conflagration through Rome, arising out of the appearance of the body,
which was such as was popularly associated with venenation.

But a Borgia in the role of a victim was altogether too unusual to be
acceptable, and too much opposed to the taste to which the public had
been educated; so the story must be edited and modified until suitable
for popular consumption. The supper-party at Cardinal Corneto's villa
was remembered, and upon that a tale was founded, and trimmed by degrees
into plausible shape.

Alexander had intended to poison Corneto--so ran this tale--that he
might possess himself of the cardinal's vast riches; in the main a
well-worn story by now. To this end Cesare had bribed a butler to pour
wine for the cardinal from a flask which he entrusted to him. Exit
Cesare. Exit presently the butler, carelessly leaving the poisoned wine
upon a buffet. (The drama, you will observe, is perfectly mechanical,
full of author's interventions, and elementary in its "preparations").
Enter the Pope. He thirsts, and calls for wine. A servant hastens; takes
up, of course, the poisoned flask in ignorance of its true quality, and
pours for his Beatitude. Whilst the Pope drinks re-enters Cesare, also
athirst, and, seating himself, he joins the Pope in the poisoned wine,
all unsuspicious and having taken no precautions to mark the
flask. Poetic justice is done, and down comes the curtain upon that
preposterous tragi-farce.

Such is the story which Guicciardini and Giovio and a host of other more
or less eminent historians have had the audacity to lay before their
readers as b