has in practice set at naught. But in the hard dry eyes of the
Florentine Secretary stood, above all others, one shining figure, a
figure to all other eyes, from then till now, wrapped in mysterious and
miasmatic cloud. In the pages of common history he was a tyrant, he was
vicious beyond compare, he was cruel beyond the Inquisition, he was
false beyond the Father of Lies, he was the Antichrist of Rome and he
was a failure: but he was the hero of Niccolò Machiavelli, who, indeed,
found in Cæsar Borgia the fine flower of Italian politics in the Age of
the Despots. Son of the Pope, a Prince of the Church, a Duke of France,
a master of events, a born soldier, diplomatist, and more than half a
statesman, Cæsar seemed indeed the darling of gods and men whom original
fortune had crowned with inborn ability. Machiavelli knew him as well as
it was possible to know a soul so tortuous and secret, and he had been
present at the most critical and terrible moments of Cæsar's life. That
in despite of a life which the world calls infamous, in despite of the
howling execrations of all Christendom, in despite of ultimate and
entire failures, Machiavelli could still write years after, 'I know not
what lessons I could teach a new Prince more useful than the example of
his actions,' exhibits the ineffaceable impressions that Cæsar Borgia
had made upon the most subtle and observant mind of modern history.

[Sidenote: Cæsar's Career.]

Cæsar was the acknowledged son of Pope Alexander by his acknowledged
mistress Vannozza dei Cattani. Born in 1472, he was an Archbishop and a
Cardinal at sixteen, and the murderer of his elder brother at an age
when modern youths are at college. He played his part to the full in the
unspeakable scandals of the Vatican, but already 'he spoke little and
people feared him.' Ere long the splendours of the Papacy seemed too
remote and uncertain for his fierce ambition, and, indeed, through his