reminded the pope of the whole history of the French kingship
in its relations with the papacy, ended up in the following strain:
'prayeth you, then, our sovereign lord the king not to give him occasion
to be, to his great sorrow, the first of his lineage who ever had war and
discord with the Roman Church, whereof he and the Christian Kings of
France, his predecessors, have been protectors and augmenters.' More
briefly and with an affectation of sorrowful graciousness, the pope made
answer to the ambassador: 'If it please King Charles, my eldest spiritual
son, to enter into my city without arms in all humility, he will be most
welcome; but much would it annoy me if the army of thy king should enter,
because that, under shadow of it, which is said to be great and riotous,
the factions and bands of Rome might rise up and cause uproar and
scandal, wherefrom great discomforts might happen to the citizens.'"
For three weeks the king and the pope offered the spectacle, only too
common in history, of the hypocrisy of might pitted against the hypocrisy
of religion. At last the pope saw the necessity of yielding; he sent for
Prince Ferdinand, son of the King of Naples, and told him that he must no
longer remain at Rome with the Neapolitan troops, for that the King of
France was absolute about entering; and he at the same time handed him a
safe-conduct under Charles's own hand. Ferdinand refused the
safe-conduct, and threw himself upon his knees before the pope, asking
him for his blessing: "Rise, my dear son," said the pope; "go, and have
good hope; God will come to our aid." The Neapolitans departed, and on
the 1st of January, 1495, Charles VIII. entered Rome with his army,
"saying gentlewise," according to Brantome, "that a while agone he had
made a vow to my lord St. Peter of Rome, and that of necessity he must
accomplish it at the peril of his life. Behold him, then, entered into
Rome," continues Brantome, "in bravery and triumph, himself armed at all
points, with lance on thigh, as if he would fain pick forward to the
charge. Marching in this fine and furious order of battle, with trumpets
a-sounding and drums a-beating, he enters in and takes his lodging, by
the means of his harbingers, wheresoever it seems to him good, has his
bodies of guards set, posts his sentinels about the places and districts
of the noble city, with no end of rounds and patrols, has his tribunals
and his gallows planted in five or six different s