the sorrow of milan
“il povero milano cridava, pensando di poter cridare, ma fu
una mala cosa per milano.”—burigozzo.
at novara, milan lost her independence for ever. the restoration of the sforza, witnessed twice over in the first thirty years of the sixteenth century, was a mere puppet-show, barely concealing the hand of greater powers behind. the gascon archers, who from the castello walls amused themselves by shooting to fragments the great clay model of ‘the horse,’ had ruined as effectively the fair social fabric, as unique, as fragile, and as incomplete, which leonardo’s work symbolised in the person of its founder, francesco sforza.
with the captivity of lodovico began in fact that long foreign subjugation of milan which was to endure into modern times. her vicissitudes during the short period that still comes within the scope of our medi?val story are too sad to linger over. reoccupied by the french after novara, the city was mulcted in an enormous sum as the penalty of rebellion, and instead of the comparatively mild régime under a native governor, first instituted by louis, she had to suffer the iron rule of a foreign viceroy, whose aim was to stamp out every spark of free and patriotic aspiration in the people.
but for several years milan enjoyed at least outward peace, under the triumphant lilies, governed in succession by the cardinal de rohan, the sieur du benin, and 190charles d’amboise, sieur de chaumont, the last of whom ruled from 1505 to his death in 1511. in 1509 domination of the french was shaken by a sudden reversal of policy on the part of pope julius, who, having used their aid to humble venice, suddenly made friends with that republic, and loudly roared to all europe his intention of driving the french out of italy. the immediate result for milan was a great inroad of swiss allies of the pope, under that terrible peasant priest, the cardinal de sion, and the devastation of the fair lombard provinces. the french, whose forces were weakened by dispersion in various directions and could ill resist this furious onslaught, endeavoured to dismay their adversary by raising a so-called general council for the reform of the church, in the shape of a few partisan cardinals, who sat solemnly in the duomo at milan and pronounced futile sentences of excommunication and deposition against the bellicose pontiff.
but julius, strong in alliance with the emperor and the king of spain, laughed at the feeble thunders of his rebellious sons. the french found better aid in the military genius of gaston de foix, the king’s nephew, who succeeded chaumont as governor of milan and commander of the army in 1511. with a stern and silent rapidity which amazed all italy, the young general of twenty-two swept through lombardy, retaking lost cities, relieving those beleaguered, and carrying his arms against the papalists and imperialists right up to ravenna, where he routed them utterly in the famous battle of easter day, 1512. the victory, however, issued fatally for the winners. the hero of it was borne dead from the field in slow and mournful procession back to milan, followed soon after by his paralysed army in retreat before the renewed hosts which the inactivity of the new french commander, palissy, had allowed the dauntless pope to collect. 191pressed on all sides in the duchy by the swiss, palissy was unable to maintain his position there either, and continuing their retreat the french passed away over the alps, abandoning all their conquests in lombardy, except the fortresses of milan and cremona.
and now once more a sforza was proclaimed lord of milan, amid the thunderous rejoicings of the people. but the son of lodovico and beatrice, massimiliano, whom the pope and the cardinal de sion, for their own political purposes, lifted to the throne of his ancestors at this juncture, was nothing but the feeble tool of those two potentates, a helpless and rotten bark tossed amid the storms of those contentious times. for the little authority which he wielded, he was utterly unfit. bred up in exile at the emperor’s court, he had no affection for his country, and regarded his new sovereignty merely as an opportunity for extravagant pleasure and dissipation. the maintenance of his luxurious court, and of the huge army necessary to defend the state, demanded enormous sums, to raise which he recklessly alienated the ducal revenues, and continually imposed unexpected taxes on his subjects. to satisfy rapacious allies and favourites, he flung away his fiefs, seeming, as a chronicler says, to follow the proverb—the fewer possessions, the fewer cares. while the light-minded youth forgot all duties and cares of state, in feasting, jousting and the dance, the resentment of the people was rising against him, his ministers and captains were intriguing with his foes, and the roar of the great guns at intervals from the castello might have reminded him that the key of milan was still held by the enemy, and that louis in france was quickly preparing an expedition to reconquer lombardy.
the first attempt of the french in 1513, under louis de la tremouille and gian giacomo trivulzio, met, however, with an unexpected and signal defeat 192from the swiss at novara, which drove them back over the alps. this was followed by the capitulation of the french garrison in the castello of milan, and massimiliano seemed now firmly established in his seat. but julius ii. was dead, and the whole political scene had shifted once again. the venetians were now ranged with france against the papal league, and the accession of francis i. to the french throne, early in 1515, raised up against the sforza a young and enthusiastic foe, who was undaunted by the sad experiences of his two predecessors in their italian ventures. the king hastened to raise an enormous army, with which he crossed the mountains in person, and, skilfully guided by trivulzio, surprised and made captive prospero colonna, general of the ducal forces, who was awaiting him in a strong position. advancing unopposed, almost up to milan, francis seemed about to complete a bloodless conquest, when a sudden rising of the milanese themselves, and the arrival of a great force of swiss to the aid of the duke, checked his progress. and now at marignano (melegnano) outside milan was fought that mighty battle (14th september 1515), not of men, but of giants—as the veteran trivulzio affirmed—in which the fierce and stubborn swiss and the gallant french contended all one evening and again the next day, till seven thousand of the mountaineers lay dead upon the field, and their brave comrades, utterly exhausted, were forced to give way and fly into milan.
at news of the defeat massimiliano retired into the castello, abandoning the city to the enemy. here he might have held out awhile, but his spirit was too small, and by the advice of girolamo morone, one of the most astute statesmen of that day, and the chief stay of this generation of the house of sforza—who counted on the existence of a more promising younger brother, francesco—the incompetent prince renounced 193his duchy to the french king for a large pension. retiring to france, this elder son of the moro disappears ingloriously out of the story of milan.
the duchy remained for the next six years in french possession, and was ruled with comparative justice and beneficence by the constable de bourbon, till the just, generous, and propitiatory impulses of the new sovereign yielded to indifference and forgetfulness, and it was abandoned to the cruel and arbitrary government of the sieur de lautrec, brother of the king’s mistress, the comtesse de chateaubriant. his tyranny helped to provoke another revolution in 1521, when the young emperor charles v. united with pope leo x. in a new holy league, and proclaiming his right to milan as an imperial fief, sent an army to invade the duchy. lautrec, having executed some of the noblest citizens on suspicion of intriguing with the imperialists, abandoned the city, leaving the castello garrisoned, and took up his stand four miles from the city, at the bicocca, where he suffered a tremendous defeat, which lost milan again to france. this turn of the tide carried francesco, lodovico’s second son, to the ducal throne. the wild joy with which the oppressed and suffering milanese greeted this new sforza, in whose name they trusted with touching hopefulness for a return of the old glory of their city, was not wholly misplaced. duke francesco ii. has left a memory of good repute. the misfortunes of his reign were not due to his faults or weaknesses, but to the political circumstances of the time, which deprived him of all real power, and made him a mere pawn in the great game played between charles v. and francis i. with italy for stake. milan was, in fact, dominated by the spaniard, and the presence of a great army of these foreigners was a crushing burden upon prince and people. though there to defend the city, they 194wrought little less destruction and cruelty than the french, when the latter returned as enemies in 1523, and advancing close to the capital, spread havoc and desolation all around. though unable to take milan, they established themselves in some of the neighbouring towns, and the approach of francis himself with a large army in the following year (1524) drove the duke into flight. the city, bereft of half its population and garrison by a terrible pestilence, was utterly unable to make any defence against the french monarch. francis, having entered milan in triumph, passed on to besiege pavia, which kept him heroically at bay through many months.
meanwhile the emperor was rapidly gathering force for the relief of his vassal state. from naples came lanoy with the garrison of that province; from germany the ferocious giant fründsberg, leading twelve thousand lanzknechts; while mercenaries from every part swarmed to the camps of charles’ other commanders, the constable de bourbon and the marquis of pescara. this horde of hungry and rapacious villains, whom the emperor left to gather supplies and pay out of the unfortunate country which it passed through, swooped down upon the gallant army of the king, which, falsely secure in its vainglory and sense of personal valour, allowed itself to be entrapped in the park of pavia, and on 24th february 1525, that vast and exquisite pleasaunce, created for the summer dalliance and the gay winter sports of the dukes of milan, became an awful red-mown field of all the chivalry of france. never, perhaps, was such an oblation of knightly grace and virtue poured out to death as on that day. one after another the gentlemen of france fell around their king. the famous veterans of the italian wars died together with the youngest scions of their houses, new come to this fatal italy. among many milanese nobles who 195also fought in the king’s ranks and fell was galeazzo di san severino, who, after mourning for his friend and lord, the moro, through several years of exile, had taken service with the conqueror and risen to the position of grand ecuyer of france.
madame, tout est perdu sauf l’honneur, wrote francis to his mother. among other things the duchy of milan, but just retaken, was lost again, and this time for ever. monseigneur le roy being a prisoner at pizzighettone, his army destroyed and the survivors of his gentlemen confined in different fortresses, duke francesco returned again under the imperial protection to his capital. but though he was beloved by his people, his restoration meant a renewal of the intolerable spanish tyranny, and fresh exactions for the benefit of the emperor’s treasury, worse than any the city had ever suffered before. the duke himself groaned under a slavery for which the empty title and insignia of sovereignty little compensated him.
and now at the very height of charles’ success, there seemed to come a hope of freedom for his oppressed vassal. italy and the whole european world had been startled by the overwhelming victory of pavia, and began to fear the further advance of a conqueror whose triumph was a menace to all. pope clement vii., whose projects for the aggrandisement of the medici were hampered by charles’ predominance in the peninsula, seized the opportunity to draw the queen-mother of france, henry viii. of england, venice and the smaller italian states into a vast alliance against the emperor. this seemed the moment for milan to throw off the yoke of spain, and francesco, or rather his chancellor, the able and faithful morone, entered into secret relations with the league. he was, however, betrayed by the marquis of pescara, whom he had endeavoured to seduce from allegiance to charles. 196morone came near to losing his head, and the duke himself was denounced for high treason to his feudal lord, and was forced to take refuge in the castello, where he was closely blockaded by pescara and de leyva; while the miserable citizens, who had found the spanish troops intolerable enough as their allies and defenders, had now to suffer unspeakable things from them in the character of conquerors.
for many months the duke held out in the hope of the relief promised by the league, till provisions grew short and famine appeared at hand. meanwhile the city, driven to frenzy by its oppressors, rose again and again in desperate tumults, which were quelled each time by the spanish generals with treacherous promises to relieve the general misery, and followed by severities and outrages more dreadful than ever, till the fair city became a very hell of slaughter, lust and rapine. in vain the forces of the league, under the brilliant young giovanni de’ medici, approached to the duke’s succour. they were driven back by the imperialists, and francesco was at last forced by extremity of want to surrender the castle and abandon the city altogether (1526).
but the league was daily growing in strength and soon returned to the attack. the imperialists were closely besieged in their turn in milan, till the descent of fründsberg with fresh hordes of mercenaries compelled the assailants to retire and concentrate themselves on the defensive against the once again overwhelming imperialists. lombardy was now become the complete prey of the occupying armies. the ferocious and undisciplined hosts that nominally served the emperor no longer heeded the commands of a master who gave them no pay, and was himself far away in spain. they were practically an independent robber horde, following whom, and going where, they pleased, supporting and enriching themselves 197on plunder, torturing and murdering peasants and citizens without distinction, to squeeze from them their last possession. it meant nothing to the soldiers that charles was entering into negotiations for peace with the league. nor could their captains control them. the constable de bourbon, who became governor of milan for the emperor in 1526, promised the afflicted people to move the army from their midst, but even if he had been sincere, he could not have kept his word. yet the army loved him above all their other leaders, this rebel and exiled prince of france, who was an adventurer like themselves.
before long milan and the country round was changed into a bare desert, out of which even spanish cruelty could no longer extract a subsistence. the thought of the unvisited regions farther on began to spread and agitate among the famished hordes; the names of florence and rome, cities of untold riches, were breathed from one to another, and as one man they rose at the offer of the constable de bourbon to lead them southwards. as a swarm of locusts lifts from a devastated plain, they swept suddenly away on the awful, irresistible course which ended in that final catastrophe of the middle ages, the sack of rome.
this tragic event, though hardly a part of the pious emperor’s plans, made the last link in the chain which spain was forging round italy. neither the pope, nor francis i., who had regained his liberty early in 1526, were able to offer any further serious resistance to the conqueror, though for some years yet the french continued to make desperate efforts to regain milan, and the city had to endure both the tyranny of the spanish governor, de leyva, and the horrors of blockade. the treaty of barcelona between the pope and the emperor, and the peace signed by charles and francis at cambrai—that paix des dames, arranged by the 198most famous ladies of france and italy—followed by the congress and coronation of the emperor at bologna in 1530, secured peace at last for the tormented country by laying the destinies of italy finally in the conqueror’s hands. francesco sforza, who threw himself on the emperor’s mercy, was graciously pardoned and reinstated in his dukedom. the return of this amiable prince inspired a faint joy in the exhausted people, and gradually, in spite of the enormous subsidies exacted by the emperor, and the burdens imposed to drive off the attacks of the independent condottieri and pirates who ranged the disordered country, a certain amount of life and activity crept back into the cruelly-wronged city.
such consolation and remedy for her wounds as his fettered powers and grave embarrassments allowed, francesco administered, introducing order into the wild confusion of the government, and reviving trade and industry by careful regulations. but what a changed milan from that in which his father and mother had reigned gloriously, in beautiful stainless palaces, surrounded by the finest productions of art, was this wrecked, defiled and devastated city, in whose deserted streets and suburbs nettles grew rankly, and wolves, grown used to feed on human flesh, roamed at will, attacking armed men, and snatching children from their mothers’ arms! ‘what an incredible evidence of the change of fortune,’ writes guicciardini, ‘to those who had seen her not long before overflowing with inhabitants, and not only full of all gaiety and delight from the natural inclination of her inhabitants to feasting and pleasure, but because of the wealth of her citizens, the infinite number of her shops and industries, the delicacy and abundance of all the things which form man’s food, the superb apparel and equipages and sumptuous adornments of both her women and her men, more flourishing and happy than any other city of italy.’
199there is an interesting record of these years of tribulation in the chronicle of a milanese mercer named burigozzo, who, sitting in his dark-browed shop, set down from day to day, as they passed before his eyes, the vicissitudes of el povero milano. his quaint simplicity and patriotic grief make his tale very moving. it is a picture of confusion, tumult and misery, relieved at first by brilliant gleams, such as the hollow pomps and glories of the entries of kings and conquerors, but darkening ever to a more tragic gloom and terror and despair as it passes from the milder sufferings of the period of french occupation to the unspeakable horrors—cose da non dire—committed by the spaniards and lanzknechts of pescara and de leyva. all the great events of the time are made vivid to us in his pages. we hear the ceaseless noise of battle outside, the guns of the castello, often directed upon the terror-stricken city itself, roaring continually and answered by the great bell of the duomo sounding a martello, to summon the citizens to arms. these, maddened by exactions and cruelty, or inspired by hope of driving out oppressors, or excluding assailants, gather in thousands at the call. suffering has made them merciless, and they attack and butcher parties of mercenaries in the streets. once they make a holocaust of the old wooden campanile of the duomo, with a whole company of spaniards within it. and through the streets, crowded with blaspheming and bestial soldiery, we see endless processions pass, white-robed children, men and women with bare feet and clad in sackcloth, monks, friars, all the hierarchy of the cathedral, filling the air with penitential wailings and cries of misericordia, as they wind from the duomo to st. ambrogio to implore the help of the great patron saint of the once fortunate milan. churches crowded with suppliants; the excited populace pressing round some upstart prophet—some 200fierce bearded monk who drives the timid priests from altar and pulpit, and calls upon the people in the name of christ to slaughter the french. in street and temple alike confusion and foulness, where so shortly before the genius of order had presided. then upon the uproar falls the sick and heavy silence of the pestilence, and the mercer’s tale moves as with a hushed step, while, imprisoned for a whole month within his house, he watches his children die, himself by the grace of god untouched and well—while no sound is heard but the carts going by laden with the sick, and the ceaseless campana del corpo—while the graveyards spread and double in extent round the numberless churches. a hundred thousand persons perished, he tells us, during the summer months of 1524.
as the picture unrolls itself before us we are fain to turn away from the spectacle of anguish and all abomination during the hideous years of the spanish occupation after 1525. the city preyed upon by the fiendish mercenaries, the people outraged, pillaged, and tortured till they yielded up their last mite of buried treasure. multitudes flying from their homes to avoid worse things and sheltering in the country round, though that was infested by human beasts and wild ones only less cruel, or worse, stopped and bound, little children and all, by their ruthless tormentors, to prevent their escape. and withal siege, starvation; such a leanness of men from hunger as was an anguish to witness, the little bread which they possessed seized by the governor, the dying poor driven into so-called refuges, whence every days scores were carried out dead.
but the story of these thirty years is not entirely of gloom. if we turn from the people to the great milanese nobility, we see a different aspect of life, no less tragic in a sense, but brilliant enough and glorified by the fine culture and rare artistic taste of the age. 201within their sumptuous palaces and wide secluded gardens, defended by great names and powerful interests from the intrusions of marauding soldiery, or in pleasant country villas beside the lakes and placid rivers of lombardy, whither they retired when pestilence or famine held sway in the city, they created for themselves that unreal world of ladies and cavaliers, arms and love, of which ariosto sings. it was during these years that the courtly dominican friar, matteo bandello, was prior of the convent of sta. maria delle grazie, and was collecting in the most elect circles those gay and scandalous tales, which, retold by his witty pen with introductions describing the circumstances in which he heard them, give a vivid picture of the incomparable cinquecento society of milan, with its fine literary accomplishment, vivacious wit and over liberal manners—a society presided over by such gracious figures as ippolita sforza, the lady of bandello’s own particular adoration, and cecilia gallerani, the moro’s old favourite. ippolita, a granddaughter of duke galeazzo maria, was married to alessandro bentivoglio, a son of the deposed lord of bologna. she and cecilia, now the contessa bergamini, and camilla scarampi made up a trio of milanese poetesses and literary connoisseurs of finest discrimination and judgment and of wide renown. apparently careless of the woes of their country, these ladies and others of their rank, with the graceful cavaliers and dilettante ecclesiastics who made their court, occupied themselves in romantic vanities, in amorous intrigues, and in learned and philosophic dalliance. close relations united them with the other courts and aristocracies of north italy, and the famous marchioness of mantua, isabella da este, was often the centre and queen of those elegant gatherings of beauty and wit and gallantry described by bandello. history shows us that most typical lady of 202italian society dancing with the king of france at the great ball which the usurping monarch gave in 1507, in the castello of milan, in the very halls where her sister and brother-in-law had once reigned—a spectacle significant of fallen italy. like the princes of the neighbouring states, the great nobles of milan, once powerful in the story of their city, had lost all patriotic and independent spirit. the severe repression of party-passion, that unfailing symptom of vigorous life in an italian community, by the french conquerors in 1500, reduced them to idleness and political nullity. they made friends with the new powers and entered their service, but they had no longer any real influence on affairs. the revolutions which placed the sforza princes on the ducal throne in turn afforded the nobles opportunities of intrigue and brought home to them the terrible realities of foreign subjugation. in 1521, for example, those who had embraced the side of the old dynasty suffered the reprisals of the savage lautrec, and on mere suspicion milan was desolated of its noblest inhabitants by summary executions, banishment and forfeiture. these families were, however, restored to their old position by the elevation of francesco sforza to the dukedom, and they made no attempt to rebel against the imperial eagle, which was their real master. when the intolerable persecution inflicted by the spanish and german mercenaries from 1525 to 1529 maddened the people to repeated insurrection, not one of the nobles came forward to give them courage and to organise and direct their undisciplined efforts to effective action. a certain pietro della pusterla, of a house which through all the story of milan had been distinguished as leaders of popular movements, seems to have assumed some authority over them, but even he abandoned them in the hour of need and danger.
these futile attempts exhausted the last remains of 203aspiration for liberty and self-government in the broken-spirited milanese. they made no attempt to rebel against the settlement of 1530, which resigned them finally into the emperor’s hands. though utterly dismayed—tutto smarrito, says burigozzo—by the heavy fine inflicted by charles as a penalty for the rebellion of the duchy, they resigned themselves to patientia and hope for better days to come.
much patientia was necessary before those days came. the country round was depopulated, and it was long before the old abundance flowed again into the city. there were times when bread lacked and the people murmured against the helpless duke. prices remained very high and there was little trade. a visit, however, from charles v. in 1533, expected with fear and dismay by the citizens, to whom his name was only associated with ravaging lanzknechts and spaniards, brought them, to their joyful surprise, good luck—a great influx of custom and rich payment for their goods, instead of robbery.
in 1534 a brief reflection of its old glory brightened the city on the arrival of a bride for the duke, the sixteen-year-old cristina of sweden, whose portrait by holbein is in the national gallery. the streets and squares were magnificently decked for her reception. the young princess, whose countenance, says the chronicler, was more divine than human, rode in under a golden baldaquin, surrounded by twelve of the noblest gentlemen of the city, so splendidly arrayed that each appeared an emperor, and with such great white plumes in their caps that her excellency seemed to move in the midst of a forest. the joy with which she was greeted was, however, shallow enough, and changed quickly to groans when the money for the duchess’ maintenance had to be squeezed out of the people by a special tax.
204the fine bridal feast was soon followed by a still more pompous, but lugubrious pageant, when eighteen months later (1535), the last duke of milan was carried to his tomb in the great temple founded by the first duke, gian galeazzo visconte. always delicate of constitution, and worn out by the great anxieties of his life, francesco fell a victim to a severe illness in 1535. he left no child to inherit the ducal throne.
there still survived, however, a sforza, gian paolo, son of the moro by lucrezia crivelli. this prince set off immediately for rome, to press the pope to support his claim to the dukedom. but on his way he was seized with sickness and died. men said that he was poisoned by those to whom his existence was an inconvenience.
thus was spent the dynasty of the sforza, and milan devolved as a vacant fief to the empire. this great city, once the seat of roman emperors, the crowning place of carlovingian and german monarchs, the capital of north italy, and for centuries the heart of the most powerful principality in the peninsula, was now to sink to a mere provincial position, to become an impotent fragment of dismembered and captive italy.
we need not occupy ourselves with the further vicissitudes of the city under the now settled dominion of spain, which all the chivalrous and repeated efforts of france in the sixteenth century was unable to overthrow. it is enough to note her transference from spanish to austrian rule after the war of succession in the early years of the seventeenth century, and her continued subjection to the house of hapsburg—with the brief napoleonic interruption of 1796 to 1815—till in 1848 she rid herself by insurrection of the austrian garrison, and ten years later became free and national at last as a member of the new-born kingdom of italy.
205her medi?val life ended with her medi?val liberty. its robust passions, its vigorous and restless activity of body and mind, the sense of human power, the wide-ranging speculation, the audacious flights of the spirit, which mark its florescence in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, turned to weariness, disillusion and despair. individuality lost itself in the bonds of convention and submission. in art, in literature, everywhere—decay. on thought, on science, the blight fell. the same hand which had stilled the political aspirations of milan was laid heavily upon her soul. the prepotence of spain and the revival of dogmatic zeal in the papacy meant the employment of every engine of oppression against that spiritual freedom which italy had used both for good and for evil. the holy office was set up in the convent of sta. maria delle grazie, and our friend burigozzo lived long enough to see the pitiful ceremonies of the public recantations and penances of heretics before the door of the duomo. but the most powerful agent of the catholic reform in milan was the famous cardinal archbishop, carlo borromeo, known to religious history as san carlo. as ambrose stands at the entrance of milan’s medi?val era, with back turned upon the ruined empire behind, and strong gaze broadening down the centuries of new faith, new hope, new ideals, so carlo borromeo stands at its close, as sternly facing towards the past, and closing the door upon the new world of thought and knowledge beyond. her independent story is consecrated at its beginning and at its end by the mighty personality of a saint, who, whatever his influence upon her actual progress, gives by his example of will, of courage, and of spiritual exaltation, an everlasting inspiration to mankind.
carlo borromeo was a scion of the great patrician family of that name in milan, founded far back in the 206mists of medi?val antiquity by a certain pilgrim, the buon romeo from whom it took its name. the house was conspicuous in the story of the city, and was foremost in consequence and in wealth in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. carlo was born in the ecclesiastical purple. his uncle, pius iv., of the milanese house of medici, created him a cardinal in 1559, at the age of nineteen, and heaped benefices upon him. in 1560 he became archbishop of milan on the retirement of cardinal ippolito ii. d’este, who had occupied the see for a great number of years in succession to his uncle ippolito i. the young cardinal was now wealthier than any other prince of the church. a few years later, however, he renounced all his benefices, which having he was great, and casting away, greater, as his biographer observes. he retained the archbishopric only, and taking up his abode in the city, he devoted himself to the government of his diocese, with an immense zeal and fervour of reform. the jesuits, the teatini, and other of the new and reformed orders which sprang up in obedience to the religious impulse of the time, were introduced by him into milan, and he suppressed the immensely wealthy and influential order of the umiliati, and alienated its revenues to the support of the new communities and to the furtherance of his great schemes. an ascetic of purest and most exemplary life, he indulged as representative of the church in a boundless pride and pomp. he was a despot, and his despotism opposed itself to all independence of thought. he extended his ecclesiastical jurisdiction to its utmost limits, and seizing delinquents almost under the nose of the civil authorities, filled the dungeons of the episcopal palace with them. his imperious will came into conflict with the governors, but his powerful influence in the bigoted court of spain gave him supremacy, and he was in fact the ruler of milan. his 207splendid temper of milanese patrician vented itself in grandiose schemes for the building, restoration and ornamentation of churches and religious institutions. but as his authority was exerted to suppress all individuality and spontaneity in literature and thought, so his rich patronage was lent only to the decadence in art. a nobler manifestation of the man was seen during the pestilence of 1576, when, with heroic self-forgetfulness, he fulfilled his duty as chief pastor of the afflicted people, succouring them by every means in his power. his exalted figure, with cross borne high, leading processions of penitent and supplicatory citizens through the streets, is one of the saintly pictures of history.
carlo borromeo died in 1584, having lived but just forty-six years. beyond him is the long sleep of milan. under the pall of stillness her historic virtues lie dormant, her historic names inglorious. but not dead. when the long-deferred moment of the awakening comes, the old courage, the old faith, the old sense of fellowship arises stronger and more lively than before, and the names of old resound again among the champions of lombard and italian freedom, in the prisons of repressive tyranny, round the barricades of the cinque giornate, on the fields of custozza, novara, solferino, side by side with the patriots sprung of the nameless blood which long ago watered the rich tilth of legnano.
