coldly treated by the King of Naples, he turned in his anxiety to France, and advised the young king, Charles VIII., to make good his claim upon the Regno.  It was a bold move to bring the foreigner thus into Italy; and even Lodovico, who prided himself upon his sagacity, could not see how things would end.  He thought his situation so hazardous, however, that any change must be for the better.  Moreover, a French invasion of Naples would tie the hands of his natural foe, King Ferdinand, whose granddaughter, Isabella of Aragon, had married Giovanni Galeazzo Sforza, and was now the rightful Duchess of Milan.  When the Florentine ambassador at Milan asked him how he had the courage to expose Italy to such peril, his reply betrayed the egotism of his policy:  ’You talk to me of Italy; but when have I looked Italy in the face?  No one ever gave a thought to my affairs.  I have, therefore, had to give them such security as I could.’

Charles VIII. was young, light-brained, romantic, and ruled by parvenus, who had an interest in disturbing the old order of the monarchy.  He lent a willing ear to Lodovico’s invitation, backed as this was by the eloquence and passion of numerous Italian refugees and exiles.  Against the advice of his more prudent counsellors, he taxed all the resources of his kingdom, and concluded treaties on disadvantageous terms with England, Germany, and Spain, in order that he might be able to concentrate all his attention upon the Italian expedition.  At the end of the year 1493, it was known that the invasion was resolved upon.  Gentile Becchi, the Florentine envoy at the Court of France, wrote to Piero de’ Medici:  ’If the King succeeds, it is all over with Italy—­tutta a bordello.’ The extraordinary selfishness of the several Italian States at this critical moment deserves to be noticed.  The Venetians, as Paolo Antonio Soderini described them to Piero de’ Medici, ’are of opinion that to keep quiet, and to see other potentates of Italy spending and suffering, cannot but be to their advantage.  They trust no one, and feel sure they have enough money to be able at any moment to raise sufficient troops, and so to guide events according to their inclinations.’  As the invasion was directed against Naples, Ferdinand of Aragon displayed the acutest sense of the situation.  ‘Frenchmen,’ he exclaimed, in what appears like a prophetic passion when contrasted with the cold indifference of others no less really menaced, ’have never come into Italy without inflicting ruin; and this invasion, if rightly considered, cannot but bring universal ruin, although it seems to menace us alone.’  In his agony Ferdinand applied to Alexander VI.  But the Pope looked coldly upon him, because the King of Naples, with rare perspicacity, had predicted that his elevation to the Papacy would prove disastrous to Christendom.  Alexander preferred to ally himself with Venice and Milan.  Upon this Ferdinand wrote as follows:  ’It seems fated that the Popes