Yet the horizon was daily growing darker around the fortunes and long-cherished hope and aims of the rapidly declining Pontiff. Some months previously to the events just related, he had found himself forced to change suddenly and scandalously his policy with regard to the Venetians. As soon as their success against the Duke of Ferrara seemed imminent, almost all the other states of Italy became seriously alarmed at the prospect of so great an accession of territory and power to the great Republic already so formidable to its neighbours. They united in urging these views on the Pope, who seems to have become aware about the same time, that if the Venetians conquered, they would conquer for themselves, and that in such case he would have no chance of obtaining the coveted dukedom. He therefore suddenly united himself with the other states in a "santissima lega," against Venice, still intending to direct its forces also against Ferrara, and hoping thus to win the prize he could not bring himself to relinquish. Rarely has been seen a more striking instance of that strangely interesting but painful spectacle of an unworthy ruling passion strong in death, than that offered by the dying Sixtus. For what had he prostituted to mean aims the awful powers and solemn position intrusted to him? for what wholly disregarded every most dread responsibility; brought scandal, disgrace, and scoffing on his great office; and made the title of Heaven's Vicegerent a blasphemy? for what had he plunged Italy into war, and made Rome a bandit's lair? For a name!—a name that a few years before had been borne from father to son by unknown fishermen, happy in their obscurity! That his "family" might be great among the great ones of the earth!—the family of a mendicant friar and sworn Romish priest! This was the one passion for which Sixtus IV. lived, and sinned, and died. Yes! died for it. For the misery of failure in his hope was the malady that crushed him into the grave. The game was going all against him. For as all Italy was united in the determination that Venice should not possess Ferrara, and the Republic saw clearly that she could never succeed in taking it in defiance of them all, there was little obstacle to the peace Italy so much needed. But the Holy Father (!) would hear of no peace. Each courier that brought news from the camp, which indicated the probability of such a solution, inflicted a blow that prostrated him. He was seen by the few who had access to him, plunged in deep melancholy, and totally unable to rally his failing strength. [Sidenote: THE POPE'S DEATH.]