the Romans lampoon only in the dark, the fault is to be charged against their rulers rather than themselves.  The talent for sarcastic epigram is hereditary with the people.  The pointed style of Martial was handed down through successive generations.  The epigram in his hands was no longer a mere inscription, an idyl, or an elegy; it had lost its ancient grace, but it took on a new energy, and it set the model, which the later Romans knew well how to copy, of satire condensed into wit, in lines each of whose words had a sting.

The first true Pasquinades—­that is, the first of the epigrams which were affixed to Pasquin, and hence derived their name—­are perhaps those which belong to the reign of Leo X. We at least have found no earlier ones of undoubted genuineness; but satires similar to those of Pasquin, and possibly originating with him, as they now go under the general name of Pasquinades, were published against the Popes who preceded Leo.  The infamous Alexander VI., the Pope who has made his name synonymous with the worst infamies that disgrace mankind, was not spared the attacks of the subjects whom he and his children, not unworthy of such a father, degraded and abused.  Two lines could say much:—­

  “Sextus Tarquinius, Sextus Nero, Sextus et iste: 
     Semper sub Sextis perdita Roma fuit.”

“Sextus Tarquinius, Sextus Nero, this also a Sextus” (Alexander Sextus, that is, Alexander the Sixth):  “always under the Sextuses has Rome been ruined.”  And as if this were not enough, another distich struck with more directness at the vices of the Pope:—­

  “Vendit Alexander claves, altaria, Christum: 
     Emerat ille prius, vendere jure potest.”

“Alexander sells the keys, the altars, Christ.  He bought them first, and has good right to sell."[3]

Alexander had gained his election by bribes which he did not pay, and promises which he did not keep; and Guicciardini tells in a few words what use he made of his holy office, declaring, that, “with his immoderate ambition and poisoned infidelity, together with all the horrible examples of cruelty, luxury and monstrous covetousness, selling without distinction both holy things and profane things, he infected the whole world."[4]

In 1503, after a pontificate of eleven years, Alexander died.  Rome rejoiced.  Peace, which for a long time had been banished from her borders, returned, and she enjoyed for a few days unwonted freedom from alarm and trouble.  Her happiness found expression in verse:—­

  “Dic unde, Alecto, pax haec effulsit, et unde
     Tam subito reticent proelia?  Sextus obit.”