more self-control than had been expected. Her
sorrow was mingled with the bitter recollection of all she had
experienced and suffered in Rome, the memory of which had been dulled
but not wholly obliterated by her life in Ferrara. Twice the murder of
her young husband Alfonso must have come back to her in all its
horror--once on the death of her father and again on that of her
terrible brother. If her grief was not inspired by the overwhelming
memories of former times, the sight of Lucretia weeping for Caesar Borgia
is a beautiful example of sisterly love--the purest and most noble of
human sentiments.

Valentino certainly did not appear to his sister or to his
contemporaries in the form in which we now behold him, for his crimes
seem blacker and blacker, while his good qualities and that
which--following Macchiavelli--we may call his political worth, are
constantly diminishing. To every thinking man the power which this young
upstart, owing to an unusual combination of circumstances, acquired is
merely a proof of what the timid, short-sighted generality of mankind
will tolerate. They tolerated the immature greatness of Caesar Borgia,
before whom princes and states trembled for years, and he was not the
last bold but empty idol of history before whom the world has tottered.

Although Lucretia may not have had a very clearly defined opinion of her
brother, neither her memory nor her sight could have been wholly dulled.
She herself forgave him, but she must, nevertheless, have asked herself
whether the incorruptible Judge of all mankind would forgive him--for
she was a devout and faithful Catholic according to the religious
standards of the age. She doubtless had innumerable masses said for his
soul, and assailed heaven with endless prayers.

Ercole Strozzi sought to console her in pompous verse; in 1508 he
dedicated to her his elegy on Caesar. This fantastic poem is remarkable
as having been the production of this man, and it might be defined as
the poetic counterpart of Macchiavelli's "Prince." First the poet
describes the deep sorrow of the two women, Lucretia and Charlotte,
lamenting the deceased with burning tears, even as Cassandra and
Polyxena bewailed the loss of Achilles. He depicts the triumphant
progress of Caesar, who resembled the great Roman by his deeds as well as
in name. He enumerated the various cities he had seized in Romagna, and
complained that an envious Fate had not permitted him to subjugate more