CHAPTER IX.

DEATH.

Pues esta noche ha da ver El fin de mi desgracio Medio mas prudente, y sabio Para acabarlo de hacer. Leonor (hay de mi), Leonor, Bella como licenciosa, Tan infeliz como hermosa, Ruina fatal de mi honor. Leonor, que al dolor rendida Y al sentimiento postrada Dejò la muerte burlada En las manos de la vida, Ha de morir----

CALDERON DE LA BARCA.

This night is destined to reveal, By prudent means and cunning skill, My deep revenge for wounded pride Fulfilled, accomplished, satisfied.

Oh, Leonor, can tears avail? Most fair, but, ah! most false and frail; Most loved, but most unhappy name, My honor's ruin and my shame.

Oh, Leonor, in saddest hour, O'erwhelmed by grief's intensest power, Though once released when death was nigh, Thy doom is written, thou must die!

A servant arrives in haste and reports to the Duchess that the most noble Duke is at the head of the street with his lordly retinue; a few moments later another comes to say that the Duke has entered the court-yard, that he has dismounted, that he has begun to ascend the stairs. At this intelligence the Duchess rises, and surrounded by the gentlemen of the household, her maidens and her women, with Troilo at her side, composing her face to appear calm, and calling, with Heaven knows how terrible an effort, a smile to her lips, advances, neither hastily nor slowly, but with elegant and dignified grace, to welcome her husband.

They meet at the head of the stairs; they clasp each other in their arms; they kiss each other again and again, and appear deeply agitated, as indeed they are;--but with what emotions? That is visible to God alone. To the bystanders it seems only a natural agitation, arising from the gratification of their long cherished wish of seeing each other again, from the happiness of reuniting the members of a family, separated with so much sorrow; in short, from domestic joys, which men prize so lightly while they possess them, but for which they mourn, when lost, with inexpressible bitterness, and which are welcomed with such triumphant delight by the fortunate few to whom it is granted to recover them. Released from the embraces of his wife, the Duke, who was pre-eminent for polished and noble manners, advanced to Troilo, pressed his hand, kissed and embraced him; nor did he forget the other members of the household, but speaking kindly to them, and calling them by name, asked after themselves and their families with a minuteness which showed that he had remembered carefully both them and their affairs.

The Duke, the Duchess, and Troilo having retired to a more private apartment, the Duke said:

"I think it would be well, Isabella, to send immediately to inform your gracious brother of my arrival, so that he may kindly allow our Virginio to be sent home; I long exceedingly to see him. I know well that he is becoming strong and valiant, and shows himself fond of all kinds of knightly exercises which are fitting for a great prince; and indeed, not to speak of my blood, descending from yours, which has honored the world with so many men renowned both for military prowess and for wisdom, he could not well be otherwise.--But what joy can messages or letters cause, equal to that which gladdens the heart of a father at the sight of the dear face, and at the sound of the sweet voice of his son----"

"I have already anticipated your wishes, Giordano. A mother feels intuitively the desires of a father, even before they can rise from his heart to his lips."

"My best beloved!--What can I say to you? How find words to express my thanks? Oh, what a comfort is this air of home, which I can call truly mine! How soothingly do these emotions descend upon the soul, like the sweet breath of spring, to disperse every cloud of melancholy, of vexing care, of passion. Yes, yes, the air of the open plains or of the mountain heights, the sea-breeze that swept my face on the day of the battle of Lepanto,--I will not say that these were not most grateful to me,--I enjoyed even the wild tumult of the battle itself, and the dazzling brilliancy of the sun's rays glancing from the armor of the Christians, and glorious above all was the proud shout of victory,--but oh!--the air of my home,--the air of my home,--that I have found nowhere----!"

"But not on downy plumes, nor under shade Of canopy reposing, fame is won,

as Dante says, and you have added a most noble monument of praise to the renowned honor of your house. Certainly it is an arduous undertaking to exalt what is already so high; to the eagle alone is it granted to commence his flight from the summit of the Alps----"

"A mere fable! In my opinion, your poet would have done much better to compare glory to 'smoke in air or foam upon the wave.'[48] Peace, rest, is what men crave incessantly. The more boldly we arrange our affairs or enterprises, the more sharply our passions sting us, so much the more rapidly does time, exerting all the power of his heavy wing, hurl ruin upon human beings, affairs, renown, and hearts. This power, like the wind, strikes with greatest force the loftiest summits; the raging whirlwind, which rends the oak upon the mountain-top, is gentle to the violet in the vale,--I am old----"

[48]

Ormai convien che tu cosi ti spoltre, Disse 'l Maestro, chè, _seggendo in piuma_, _In fama non si vien_, _nè sotto coltre_; Sanza la qual chi sua vita consuma, Cotal vestigio in terra di sè lascia, Qual _fumo in aere od in acqua la schiuma_.

INFERNO XXIV.

"Now needs thy best of man;" so spake my guide: "For not on downy plumes, nor under shade Of canopy reposing, fame is won; Without which whosoe'er consumes his days, Leaveth such vestige of himself on earth, As smoke in air, or foam upon the wave."

CARY'S _Translation_.

"Alas! Do you, then, think that the passions which are most active in corroding the human heart, are those which chiefly haunt the court and camp? Often in gilded halls, beneath draperies of damask, are kindled flames fiercer, not only than any other earthly ones, but than those of the infernal----"

"However it may be with others, see here, my face is full of wrinkles, while as to you, time has hardly dared to touch the corner of your eyes with the downy tip of his wings."

"Is it, then, the face alone that grows old? Do you not know that man sometimes survives himself? Do you not know that the heart often rests within the breast like a corpse in the coffin? Ah, Giordano! I swear to you by the Crucifix, that the sorrows suffered by you, on account of your long and distant separation from your home, are not nearly so severe as those which I have endured, remaining here, forsaken and solitary. I recognise in my pallid face the tokens of the worn out spirit. Do not deny it; do not shake your head as if you did not think so. I possess a stern friend, who, neither by threats, nor by supplications, nor by bribes, can be restrained from speaking the truth; who, if broken into a thousand fragments, would assume a thousand tongues to repeat it to me more persistently than ever; who ought to be banished from Court, since he will not bend to flattery, and nevertheless he is one whom we could not possibly do without. And is called--as you must already have guessed--Looking-glass!"

"No, indeed, I had not a suspicion of it; I was racking my brains to discover who this Anaxarchus could be."[49]

[49] Anaxarchus, a philosopher of Abdera, one of the followers of Democritus, and the friend of Alexander. When the monarch had been wounded in a battle, the philosopher pointed to the place, adding, that is human blood, and not the blood of a god. This freedom offended Nicocreon, tyrant of Cyprus, who ordered him to be pounded in a stone mortar, with iron hammers. While the executioners were performing the sentence, he exclaimed, as long as his strength lasted; "Pound the body of Anaxarchus; but thou canst not pound his soul."

"Messere Virginio!" announced a page, raising the hangings of the door; and immediately after entered a youth, just on the verge of manhood, remarkably handsome, though rather sedate in manner, and dressed in dark colors.

Have you seen a ferocious animal called the jaguar, as, with a terrific spring, he bounds from his hiding-place upon his expected prey? It must have been with a bound little less terrific that the Duke threw himself upon his son Virginio; for in those times the passions were much more demonstrative than was necessary, and, whether tender or fierce, most vehement always, and as the simoom whirls about the sands of the desert, so they subverted the sentiments of the soul. He clasped Virginio convulsively to his heart, kissed his hair and his face, held him long in his arms, and almost suffocated him with embraces, as the boa-constrictor tightens his coils around his enemy;--he dreaded, with passionate jealousy, that others should share in his joy; he drew him to one side, gazed earnestly into his eyes, and then breaking out into actual weeping, he exclaimed, in a voice broken by sobs:

"O my son! O my own child! Hope and pride of the noble house of Orsini!"

All marvelled; and Virginio, instead of replying to such extravagant demonstrations of affection, seemed almost bewildered by them, and looked towards his mother, as if longing for her more tender caresses; but the father endeavored to monopolize all the attention of his son, endeavored to interpose his own person between his eager eyes and the beloved parent they sought. Virginio succeeded, at last, in freeing himself from such ardent endearments, and flew to his mother's outstretched arms; they remained long clasped in a rapturous embrace, which can be likened to nothing on earth but itself, the embrace given by a tender mother to a beloved son; nor even in Heaven can the embraces of the angels before the throne of the Eternal surpass it in affection.

The Duke watched these two beings with a gaze full of sadness; his heart swelled within him, and a half-stifled sigh escaped his lips; his angry, blood-shot eyes turned with a truculent expression upon Troilo, who, overwhelmed with confusion, kept his fixed upon the earth. It is not to be doubted that if Isabella and Troilo had not been wholly preoccupied at that moment, the former with the dear delight of seeing her son again, the latter with the reproaches of his conscience, they would have read their own condemnation in those fearful glances of the Duke, for they revealed the hell in his heart.

As if he could hardly endure to see so closely united, two souls destined so soon to separate, or rather, jealous of an affection which he wished and intended to turn entirely to himself, he called Virginio to him in a somewhat sharp tone, and said:

"It does not belong to me to examine the progress you have made in letters, for of such matters I know but little; but tell me, how well can you manage a horse? How wield your arms? Do swords frighten you?"

"Try and see."

"With all my heart;" and the Duke sent a servant for his fencing weapons, without which, he, a most skilful swordsman, never travelled. Then commenced a furious passage of arms, in which if, as might be expected, the Duke was the superior in strength, Virginio on his side showed a skill equal to his father's, and for his years truly wonderful.

"Troilo!" exclaimed the Duke, exultingly; "Troilo, by my faith he is one of the best swordsmen that I have ever encountered. I beg of you, Troilo, to try him yourself; there was a time, Troilo, when our officers considered you an excellent fencer."

"There was a time, yes--but now I feel that I am weaker. Oh, how much better would it have been for me to have won for myself either renown or an honorable death----"

"What? In guarding my honor, Troilo, can you possibly have drawn dishonor upon yourself?"

"No; but I think it would have been more desirable to have been at the Curzolares."

"Learn, Troilo, that in every station where a man conducts himself as an honorable knight, he may win honor. Come, now, to oblige me, try him."

And Troilo did try; but his arm trembled so that he could hardly hold his sword; he kept merely upon the defensive, and soon, as if wearied, lowered his weapon.

"I am no longer what I was; my strength is half-spent. If God grants me life, I have determined to go and reinvigorate myself by the discipline of the Knights of Malta."

"It will be a meritorious work, Troilo; and it will be well to go now, for his Holiness the Pope has promised great indulgences to all who will arouse themselves to fight against the infidels. You are weary of idleness, I of action, and we both seek change of life. It is the way of the world; we are never contented with our present lot; we are like sick men, who, tossing from side to side, seek ease from their pain. I do not know whether the sepulchre can give us fame, but certainly the sepulchre alone can give repose. But why do I speak of sepulchres? And why do you look so sad? This is a day of rejoicing. It is one of those days that smoothe away more than one wrinkle from the brow and from the heart. Enjoy yourselves. I feel that I am the happiest man on the face of the earth. My house must resound with festive shouts. Rejoice! I beg of you, rejoice! I command you----"

"Do you think that joy can be commanded like a regiment of soldiers?" asked Isabella in a languid voice.

"What prevents it from being spontaneous?"

"Our souls readily don the habit of sadness, and cannot lay it aside as we women do a veil or girdle. And then there are modest and hidden joys that vanish in the open air, and must be guarded like the vestal flame in the sanctuary of the heart."

"No, thank God I love free and open joy, I love the noisy mirth that takes pleasure in bonfires, in feasts and banquets, and delights in flowers and sweet sounds. Welcome, cheerfulness! that gilds herself in the first rays of the morning sun, refreshes herself with the dews, traverses fields and meadows, and hunts the wild beasts. To the country, say I, to the country; we cannot breathe at ease in these prisons which they call cities; an oppression weighs upon the breast and vexes the heart. Let us see if there we can still be melancholy. I wish to see you merry; I will make you all cheerful, or I am not Paolo Giordano Orsini, Duke of Bracciano. Listen, Isabella; I have determined to pay a visit to his Highness your brother; Virginio shall go with me; and having, as is proper, rendered my due respects to him, I shall immediately take leave, and we can go, without delaying any longer in town, to our beautiful Cerreto. There are pleasant shades, wild beasts, and leafy groves; there flow deep cool streams; there the eye can rest with delight upon the greater part of this earthly paradise which we salute by the name of Tuscany. No one can hope to taste the pleasures of domestic life better than in the quiet of the fields or under the shade of the forests; there we shall feel ourselves happy. Are you not pleased, Isabella? Certainly you have too much enthusiasm in your soul to deny this. The husband of a poetess, I open my heart to the spirit of poetry."

"I like whatever pleases you, my dear Lord; but think how intensely warm it is, and how much pleasanter it would be to travel by night."

"Yes, truly, we are stifled here. Do you not feel as if it were raining fire? I do not know the sun in Florence. During the winter he creeps from cloud to cloud like a criminal, who by mixing in the crowd seeks to escape the sheriff; then in the summer he stands riveted in the heavens, and seems to wish us the fate he brought upon his son Phaeton. But does a soldier care for the sun? What do you think, Troilo?"

"By your leave I should agree with the Duchess."

"Well, well, if the sun hurts you, you can go in the carriage with her; we shall go on horseback."

"I, too, will go on horseback," cried Troilo in an excited tone, and the Duke replied, smiling--

"I did not intend to offend you, Troilo; I thought that you might wish to continue the good and faithful guardianship that you have hitherto----"

And without finishing his sentence, he took Virginio by the hand, and promising that he would return shortly, accompanied by an honorable retinue of gentlemen, he departed to pay a visit of courtesy to his brother-in-law.

As soon as he was gone, Troilo and Isabella, as may readily be imagined, strained every faculty of their minds to weigh the words uttered by the Duke, and to submit to a rigorous examination his gestures, looks, and every little trifle which would have escaped eyes less vigilant than theirs. They were so completely absorbed in their anxious doubts, that if an earthquake had shaken the city, they would not have perceived it, which, as we read in history, actually happened to the Romans and Carthaginians during the battle of Lake Trasymene. What was also very remarkable, was, that their reflections terminated at the same moment, and in entirely opposite conclusions, for while Troilo laid aside all fear, Isabella bade adieu to every gleam of hope.

Without requiring the language of the lips, they had, by means of the many other modes of expression of which the human face is capable, made known to each other the subject of their thoughts, and the decision which they had each formed. When Troilo perceived that they did not agree, an insane desire took possession of him, to learn more exactly Isabella's opinion. But to dismiss the numerous guests did not seem polite, neither was it prudent, in their presence, to hold any secret conversation, and it was dangerous to allow Troilo to continue his nods and signs, unfortunately too evident to every one, that he wished, at all hazards, to speak to her; so, as the best thing that she could do, she went to a table, and taking up Petrarch's Lyric Poems, found a sonnet, read it attentively, and marking lightly with her nail that part of the page to which she wished to draw Troilo's attention, she left it open, making a sign to him to read it; then turning away, she joined with her usual brilliancy in the conversation of those standing near her. Troilo, as soon as he thought that he could do so without attracting observation, approached the table, and read at the place marked:

But though it be our hapless lot to lie In durance vile, of former peace bereft, Yea, though the fates decree that we should die, One consolation still to us is left, He who to us our liberty denies, Lies willing captive to another's powers; Pierced by the archer's fatal shafts he lies, And wears a closer, heavier chain than ours.[50]

[50]

Ma del misero stato ove noi semo Condotte dalla vita altra serena, Un sol conforto, e della morte, avemo: Che vendetta è di lui ch' a ciò ne mena; Lo qual in forza altrui, presso all' estremo, Riman legato con maggior catena.

Troilo shrugged his shoulders, saying to himself:--"She really enjoys thinking herself past all hope; but how can she help seeing clearly that the Duke is the happiest man in the world? She wishes, and indeed it would be for her advantage, that I should go away. But we know each other of old; and I have never felt so much disposed as now to stay and see the end of it. That I must give place, is all right and proper; if they wish me to give with one hand, I will give with two; but we must capitulate on honorable conditions; must come to advantageous terms; I intend to depart with military honors, taking my arms and baggage, not to be driven away like an old servant."

It was not long before the Duke reappeared, honorably accompanied, but without Virginio. When Isabella saw him enter alone the last ray of hope was extinguished in her heart, the entire renunciation of which is most difficult for the human heart. Then she seemed indeed to read her sentence of death. Death is terrible to all, but especially so to those who, from physical weakness, shrink from suffering it. A cold shudder ran through her bones, her face became deathly pale, her livid lips quivered convulsively. No one can deny that her own sense must have taught her that it would be impossible to use violence against a mother in presence of her son. She went towards the Duke, and with an indescribable expression asked him:

"Where is our Virginio?"

"Your brother insisted upon keeping him; he says that his attention is too easily diverted, and that it is a most difficult thing to bring him back again to his daily routine. In truth, it seems hard that I should not enjoy my son's society, after so many years of separation, but you know it is for our interest to conciliate his Highness. However, he has promised to send him for one day to our country-seat, accompanied by his tutor----"

"Country-seat? which country-seat?"

"Cerreto."

"When?"

"Very soon."

"He will certainly send him to the country, but not to Cerreto. To-morrow, perhaps----"

"He did not say to-morrow?"

"No! but my heart tells me--Alas! Why did I not give him a farewell kiss?"

"Do you fear that you will not have time to kiss him?"

"Do you believe that I shall have time to kiss him?" demanded Isabella, with a look that seemed to penetrate into the inmost recesses of his heart. The Duke, glancing away from her, tried to escape her questionings and pleadings.

"Of course I believe it; what is there to prevent? If he should forget it, we can send for him. Come, then, to horse; what need is there of further delay? To Cerreto--to peace--to rest--to repose after our long labors--to sweet sleep!"

"_Stultum est somno delectari, mortem horrere: cum somnus assiduus sit mortis mutatio._"[51]

[51] It is foolish to enjoy sleep and to be terrified at death, for eternal sleep would be death.

"What are you murmuring, Isabella?"

"I just happened to think of a sentence in Seneca, about sleep the brother of death."

"How can such a quotation apply to us?"

"It does not." And two tears--two only--came to her eyes, but instead of rolling down her cheeks in the usual manner, they sprang from her lids like the last arrow shot from the bow of Grief.[52]

[52] In the Memoirs of the Maréschal de Bassompierre, occurs the following remarkable passage: "Maria dei Medici, when her authority as regent was on the decline, intended to refuse the request of some of her barons to recall several exiles, which they were urging upon her with great persistency; but she did not dare to pronounce her refusal until she knew her actual condition. So, on some pretence she called Bassompierre aside, and asked him what means of resistance remained to her. Bassompierre replied, 'None, especially since some of her friends, such as the Marquis d'Ancre, had abandoned her.' Lors la reine ne peut se tenir de jeter quatre ou cinq larmes, se tournant vers la fenêtre afin qu'on ne la vit pas pleurer, et, _ce que je n'avois jamais vu, elles ne coulèrent point comme quand on a accoutumé de pleurer, mais se_ DARDÈRENT _hors des yeux sans couler sur les joues_."

"To horse!"

The servants, hurried by the impetuosity of Titta, whom they perceived that they must obey as the Duke, or even more than the Duke, prepared with wonderful celerity horses, carriages, and a waggon, with such articles as could not be readily obtained in the country. The major-domo, Don Inigo, had asked with his usual brevity, "Whether it would be necessary to carry much plate and linen?" but Titta replied,

"Why, no, major-domo, for I do not think that we shall stay very long at Cerreto."

They set out. The sun darted down his fiery rays, the winds were silent, there was not a breath of air, and the stifling glare of the tyrant of the skies oppressed all nature. The leaves of the trees hung motionless, for not a breath, not a sigh of wind dared to stir them; the waters ceased their accustomed murmur; in such still silence, in such intense solitude, the locusts alone, as if drunk with the heat, labored in their monotonous song, which ends with their lives; some lizards, gliding across the road with the speed of an arrow, sought shelter from the heat from bush to bush. To increase the distress of the journey, the dust, disturbed by the trampling of the horses' feet, rose in clouds and settled thickly upon the hair and clothes of the riders. The horses, losing their usual spirit, walked panting, with drooping ears, and streaming with perspiration. The Duke, his face in a flame, and tormented also by insupportable fury, disguised his uneasiness, and said in a voice which he endeavored to render cheerful:

"This sun-bath revives one's blood. Men born on Italian ground must feel their hearts refreshed by the rays of the 'day-star;' heat is the father of life, nay, life itself for we are born warm and we die cold."

Meantime, with infinite trouble they had reached the banks of the Arno. A few days before a sudden shower of rain had fallen, which, although it had increased the sultriness, for it seemed as if it had rained fire, had nevertheless raised the level of the Arno, whose swollen waters rolled swiftly by. The ferryman being summoned, hastened at the sight of such a noble and unexpected company, and proposed to take them in two trips, for the river being so high, and the boat so heavily laden, he feared that some disaster might happen. But all were impatient to cross the stream, and the Duke particularly; so the knights dismounted from their steeds, the ladies descended from the carriage, and they all entered the boat, together with the animals and vehicles, without paying the slightest attention to the remonstrances of the boatman, who did not cease to warn them of the danger. The Duke and Isabella advanced to the prow of the boat, which would first touch the shore, without exchanging a word. He gazed intently at the waters as they ran swiftly by, urged on, as it were, by some mysterious agency, and murmuring hoarsely as if complaining of the fleeting destiny granted to them by the fates. Suddenly, as if speaking to himself he said:

"These waves, which pass so rapidly before my eyes, will certainly grow quiet in the sea; but where go the human souls which pass away no less swiftly?"

"Wherever it pleases the mercy of God," replied Isabella.

"Mercy! Say rather to whatever place we may deserve by the works and merits which we perform during this passage to the tomb which we call life."

"My dear Giordano, let no human creature presume to save himself by his own merits. What should we be, if God did not assist us?"

"You confide much in the mercy of God?"

"Entirely."

"But if the priests should declare you unpardonable?"

"I should not despair, unless I should myself hear that severe sentence from the immortal lips of the Father of Mercies."

"But God is a judge and avenger: He visits the generations, and 'visits the sins of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth--'"

"We know another law, which is pardon, charity, and love; the blessed Santa Teresa calls the devil unhappy, because he can neither pardon nor love--"

"God help us!--We shall upset!"--

These cries suddenly interrupted the conversation. In a moment, all was fear and confusion. The rope attached to the rudder broke, and the force of the current, pushing the boat on one side, nearly submerged it, all control over it being thus lost; the peril was imminent, increased as it was by the uneasy motions of the men and animals; the edge of the boat already touched the water; it was on the point of filling hopelessly.

The Duke appeared not only free from all fear in that tumult, but even enjoyed it, and with a great shout exclaimed:

"Let us all go to the bottom together!"

But the ferryman, with a strong push of his pole, was just in time to support the side towards which the boat careened, and to save it from disappearing beneath the surface. Rescued thus from the immediate danger, the others assisted the ferryman, and by means of their united strength, they succeeded, although with difficulty, in keeping the boat steady; a servant, with a rope in his hand, then sprang into the water, and crossing the stream, reached the opposite shore, where, with the aid of some peasants who were waiting to cross, he drew the rope, one end of which was fastened to the boat, and succeeded in bringing it to a place of safety. They landed, but when the ferryman, cap in hand, tried to recall himself to their memories, which seemed cousins-german to forgetfulness, Isabella, looking back at him, said:

"Why did you save us? Many would have died innocent, who will now be lost."

And the Duke:

"Why did you save us? Who told you to? Who asked you to? We should all have sunk to the bottomless pit without noticing it."

Troilo and the others looked askance at him as they passed. The honest man stood confounded. Last of all came Don Inigo, so very dark, with his pallid face and fierce glance. If to the eyes of the ferryman the others had appeared demons, this man seemed Satan himself; in his heart he gave up all hope of the expected _buona mano_; nevertheless, according to his custom, he moved forward to ask it, but his voice died away on his lips. Don Inigo fixed upon him two such eyes that the frightened boatman retreated two or three steps, and as Don Inigo continued to advance, without changing a muscle of his face, he still retreated. Don Inigo thrust his hand into his doublet, and the other, fearing that he was about to draw his dagger or poniard, gave himself up for lost: but instead, he drew forth two bright pistoles and held them out to him. The ferryman hardly dared to trust himself, but the love of money overcame his fear: he approached tremblingly, and stretched forth his open hand. Don Inigo dropped the pistoles into it without speaking; the other received them holding his breath; then, each turning away from the other, the ferryman set off at a full run, and did not consider himself safe until he was actually in his boat. When there he opened his hand, suspecting that the money had turned to lead, which generally happens, according to popular superstition, with money coined in the infernal mint; but they still seemed of gold, as they had done at first: at any rate, he put them carefully away in his purse, exclaiming:

"I will have them blessed, for if it was not the devil and all his imps that I have just ferried over, I am not the ferryman of Petroio!"

At last they have reached Cerreto-Guidi; at last they have reached the foot of the steep flight of steps by which they wearily mount to the country-seat at the top.

Country-seat! Yes, certainly, for thus that block of buildings was then called, and always will be called, which was once the property of Isabella Orsini at Cerreto-Guidi. There nature smiles most brightly, and shows herself most joyful, and notwithstanding, man, placing his fatal hand upon it, has succeeded in rendering it the abode of terror: a hill, which, if left untouched, would have been a most beautiful and charming sight, has been bound with brick and stone, and converted into a fortress. Four very steep staircases, two on each side, lead to the top; the two first form an angle at the foot of the hill, and then part, the one to the right, the other to the left; the two second begin where these end, and reunite in an angle before the lawn in front of the palace. The walls come down perpendicularly, built of brick of so bright a tint that even now they appear as if stained with blood; the bosses, the stairs, and the copings of the parapets are of Gonfalina stone; the two first staircases have forty-two steps, each of which is more than a foot broad; the second, forty-three; the cliff beneath is excavated, with tortuous, subterranean passages winding through it. In the centre of the wall rests an immense escutcheon, also of stone; but the Medicean balls,[53] either the effect of time or "the work of men's hands," have fallen, as the family of the Medici has fallen, as their power has fallen, as all the great ones of the earth will fall, into the sepulchre. To some sooner, to some later, but to all fatally, will the Autumn come, for we are leaves attached to the tree of time, and time itself is a perishing leaf of eternity. But when men have fallen and their age has passed away, fame remains, which, although it may grow old and infirm, never dies; and even if sometimes late, always reaches posterity, to recount the vices and virtues of those who have passed from earth. Despotic potentates have lived, who have torn out its tongue, and thought thus to silence it, but the tongue of fame springs again like the head of the Hydra, and God does not permit a Hercules to rise against it, for He has sent it upon earth as a precursor of His own delayed but inevitable justice.

[53] The arms of the Medici family were six balls.

The palace contains a vast hall on the ground-floor; at the further end of it there is an arch, at the right of which a broad stone staircase leads to the first story.

Just on the right hand of the entrance is a suite of apartments. Enter, cross it, and you will find a corner room; one side looks to the south, that opposite to the door to the west. There is now but one window to the room; at the time of our history there were two; the second opened to the west. There are two doors; one large and in full view, the other small and secret, and formerly covered by tapestry of green damask. The room is ten feet by seven. In the wall is a large press, which is not readily perceived by the careless observer: looking up to the entablature, we find that there are sixteen small joists resting upon one principal beam. But it is not to count beams and joists that I turn your attention to the ceiling: indeed no; look carefully, and there, under the principal beam, by the third cross-beam from the western side, you will observe a small round hole.

Remember this room and this hole. Two hundred and seventy-eight years have now passed since that hole appeared there.

Cerreto (an oak grove) received its name from the abundance of green oaks (_Cerri_) that shaded the hill and the surrounding country for a long distance, as Frassineto (an ash grove) from the ash trees (_Frassini_), and Suvereto (a wood of cork trees) from the corks (_Sugheri_), and Rovereto (a male oak grove) from the male oaks (_Roveri_). Where are the oak trees now? The eye of the passer-by seeks in vain for a tree beneath whose shade to shelter his burning head from the sun's scorching glare; and not at Cerreto alone, but throughout all Tuscany, and even upon the lofty peaks of the Apennine range, trees are to the present day but seldom seen. Oh! sad is the necessity which compels us to deprive the earth of so noble an ornament! The forests have disappeared, and with them the Dryads, the Hamadryads, the Fauns, the Oreads, and the other lovely families with which the fancy of the poets peopled them; the forests have disappeared, and with them the Knights Errant, the tournaments, the chivalrous enterprises, the fairies, the dwarfs, and the Queens of Beauty, with whom the imaginations of the romancers gladdened their sylvan haunts. The nymphs of the woods followed mourning to see the beloved trees, and recommended them to the care of the ocean goddesses, as if they had been best beloved children; and the ocean goddesses cared for them, fashioned them into ships, adorned them with sails as purely white as the wings of the swan, gave them the swiftness of the albatross, and the shining beauty of the halcyon; then with their hands and shining shoulders they pushed the stern, and the favoring winds, vieing with the nymphs, swelled the sails, and took pleasure in spreading to the azure sky the banner of our land.

The ship, traversing untried seas, carried arts, customs, and knowledge, to civilize unknown and savage nations, and the banner of our land was hailed even on the remotest shores as a token of safety. Alas! This is a desire which, however earnest, can never more be fulfilled. The woods of our country are shorn of their leaves, as Grecian maidens formerly sacrificed their tresses at the tombs of their dear ones. Our trees have been converted into ships, but not for us; the winds have unfolded the banner, but it was not ours; they have joined in battle, but it was not for the fates of our country; they have sailed laden with merchandise, but not gathered from our fields, nor manufactured by our hands; they have indeed been guided by Italian men over unknown seas, and through terrible storms and fearful perils, but others have received the fruits of these enterprises, and our country has won merely barren renown. Barbarous nations have bought our forests, while the iron dared not touch their oaks, beneath which the Druids celebrated their mysterious rites. Oh! miserable nation, who have sold everything, and had it been possible would have sold even your sun and sky, why, if you yourselves had no thrill of daring or of glory, why did you disinherit your posterity? Why, not contented with your own baseness, did you prepare for your sons an inheritance of shame and tears? What judgment awaits you beyond the grave, since your children will remember their fathers only by the ill which they have received from them?

But Cerreto was at that time shaded with an abundance of oaks, elms, holm-oaks, and trees of all kinds; while pheasants, heath-cocks, and infinite varieties of birds flew from bough to bough, and roebucks, deer, stags, hares, and wild-boars bounded through the underbrush; so that the place was remarkably well adapted for the chase, the supreme delight in the lives of Princes.

When Isabella, leaning on her husband's arm, began to ascend the stairs, she stumbled on the first step, so as to cause herself severe pain; smiling sadly, she turned to the Duke and said:

"This is a bad omen: a Roman would have turned back."[54]

[54] As Lamoignon Malesherbes, the aged defender of Louis XVI., was being dragged to the scaffold, he struck his foot against a step in the prison, and remarked: "A Roman would have turned back."

The Duke, not being able to think of a good answer, kept silence, trying in his turn to laugh.

As soon as they reached the palace, every one repaired to his own apartments; the Duke went to those which contained the room already so minutely described, to perform his toilet.

When they had bathed in perfumed water, changed their clothes, and dressed their hair, they all met again on the piazza in front of the palace.

The sun, shorn of his rays, resembled a blood-shot eye, and the whole sky near him seemed like a lake of blood. An immense extent of country lay stretched out before the eyes of our personages, for from that height could be seen the greater part of the territories of Florence, Pistoia, Volterra, Pisa, Colle, Samminiato, and even Leghorn. Groups of houses were scattered about on the hills, like flocks of goats in their pastures; from the little cottages rose straight columns of smoke, and the sound of melancholy songs was heard from the plains, to which other voices in the distance replied in strains equally mournful. From a black cloud darted, from time to time, a tongue of flame like the sword of the avenging Archangel hidden behind it. The sun meantime is gradually sinking--now it is merely a streak of light--now it is gone! Isabella, moved by an irresistible impulse, stretched forth her arms with the despairing sorrow with which we see our dearest treasures hidden from our sight beneath the earth, and exclaimed:

"Farewell, O sun, farewell!" and covered her face with her hands.

"Farewell until to-morrow," said the Duke, "and may you rise with a brighter face than that with which you leave us. Beautiful plains, pleasant woods, and delightful ease, at last I return to enjoy you, nor will I again leave you hastily. I am weary of pursuing glory, which is never overtaken; or if overtaken, when man thinks to clasp a supreme good, his arms fall empty on his bosom. I wish to find my pleasure in domestic joys, the only true ones in the world. I reproach myself, and I ask your pardon, Isabella, and bind myself by an oath never to leave you again. I thank you, that on returning home, I have not been received as a stranger; I owe it to the excellent goodness of your disposition, that coming back, after so many years of absence, I can believe that I departed only yesterday. My heart is sick; it is for you to cure it entirely of the fever of ambition, which has wrung it so sorely."

Isabella looked at him, and smiled mournfully without speaking; but Troilo, who thought him sincere, replied consolingly:

"Now how can you say that you have spent your days in vain? In a hundred battles you have gathered laurels enough to crown two Cæsars; not to mention others, at Lepanto alone you have, by your bravery and prowess, acquired a name that history will record with pride in her eternal pages. Ah! be good enough to satisfy my long desire; narrate to me the events of this 'battle of the giants.'"

"At another time, Troilo, at another time; but, I repeat it, all is vanity. Look and see what good has arisen from so many deaths, from so much misery, from so many wounds! The Christians, envious of each other, did not follow up their victory; the Turks rose again, more troublesome than ever; and Don John, unacceptable conqueror, received as the recompense of his wonderful valor, nothing but oblivion, and happy he if nothing worse happen to him! That great soldier heart, which expands in the dangers of the conflict, will quickly cease to beat if condemned to fret itself away at Court,[55] for glory was his breath, danger his blood, war his very life. The fate of this illustrious but unfortunate man, teaches me to be wise, and furl the sails worn by the long voyage. True, it is late, but 'better late than never;'--the sun of my life is declining--God grant that its setting at least may be peaceful!"

[55] It was not long before they received notice of the death of Don John of Austria, caused by fever and the deep vexation of excessive care.

* * * * *

The servants had prepared two tables in the lower hall, and they were overloaded with the gifts of Ceres and Bacchus; many chandeliers shone with brilliant light, which was reflected in infinite rays from the sparkling silver plate, white porcelain vases, and large mirrors. All the doors which looked upon the piazza had been opened, and also the opposite ones opening into the gardens; and yet the air was so still that not even a light flickered, and the folds of the window curtains and awnings were as immovable as if made of marble or bronze. Through so many openings there did not penetrate a single refreshing breath of air.

They sat at the banquet. The Duke strove his best to make the guests give themselves up to joy and merriment; he had need of excitement; he endeavored to stupefy himself; he meant to drown his internal passion in the madness of false hilarity: in short, he sought mainly two things, courage to persist, and power to dissimulate. He succeeded finally; for the guests, having no motive to doubt the sincerity of the Duke's gaiety, abandoned themselves to a free and open demonstration of enjoyment, and thus was tempered the artificial and icy happiness which he pretended. Troilo, who, as all ignorant men are wont, presumed a great deal on himself, thought there was no danger; yet he was not entirely at his ease, and, at any rate, he thought best to drown all sadness in wine. The conversation began to be more excited and lively; witty sayings flew from mouth to mouth. The banquet was at its climax; the valets and pages hastened around, carrying wines of all kinds and warm viands; the noise which arises from gay voices speaking all together, a sure indication of a merry feast, filled the whole room, and from time to time was broken by loud laughter.

But Isabella participated in this hilarity as much as was necessary not to show the perturbation which agitated her; and it did not escape her notice that the Duke, whilst he urged the others and herself to drink often, never did himself, or, hardly touching the glass to his lips, set it down again. Her eyes often sought those of the Duke, but he studiously avoided hers, or if by chance they met he turned them away quickly. Not that she was sorry at this, prepared as she was for everything, but, through an innate vanity in our nature, she wished to show him that she might be murdered, but not deceived.

And since there never are motives wanting among men either to do an injury or to drink, so it is useless to relate in how many ways, and for how many reasons, they all drank.

Troilo, partly to correspond to the general exultation, partly to acquire more and more the good will of his cousin, rose suddenly, and holding in his hand a full goblet, toasted the Duke thus:

"The health of the valorous knight of Christ, the victorious warrior of Lepanto."

There is nothing in the world so insupportable as praise in the mouth of an enemy; no insult can offend as much as this eulogium; and it seemed excessively insulting to the Duke, for he knew too well that it was derived from stupidity, but mingled with malice; and it is also no little offence to human vanity to allow the fool to suppose that he has been able to deceive us. Yet he dissimulated; for when he undertook a task, although weak by nature, he was capable by art of dissimulating as well as the most dexterous.

At the toast of Troilo all replied applauding, and, although the power of the wine had a great deal to do with these vociferous approvals, yet they poured so sincerely from their hearts, that the warrior felt proud of them, and they tempered the bitterness caused by the thought of the source from whence the toast came, and the reason of it.

The Duke rose also, and taking a glass, replied in an attitude of acknowledgment:

"It is too much for me! But human tongue can never extol enough the illustrious souls of those who perished fighting on that memorable day."

"My Lord Duke, pray do not deny to us the honor and pleasure of hearing you relate the events of that battle: we beg you, by the love you bear to your lady."

"No; what is the use? You have all read it in the histories of the times."

And all the guests insisted, speaking at once:

"Yes, but in generalities;--without details of facts and incidents. And then, to read a relation of a battle is a very different thing from hearing it from one who fought in it, shed his blood, and conquered. Please narrate it to us."

And Titta, who had accompanied the Duke, and had fought at his side and saved his life, desired that his prowess might be shown also as well as his master's, so that he insisted more than the others that the Duke, who was a good speaker, should relate the events and dangers of that famous battle. Indeed the refusal of the Duke, to tell the truth, was not sincere; not that he was a _miles gloriosus_, but every soldier loves to record the battles he fought, the wounds received, and to show himself a generous bestower of praise on the enemy, whether conquerors or conquered;--if conquerors, to excuse the defeat;--if conquered, to render his triumph more glorious.

Titta then, in a certain manner which was neither a request nor a command, but participated of both, added:

"May it please your Excellency, although modesty may deter you from narrating the battle, you must not deprive me of my share of praises; for I also fought by your side, and as fortune, rather than my own bravery, gave me the chance of saving the life of a valorous warrior, I cannot renounce the reward accruing from this act, although an accidental one."

"You are right, and I could not honestly be silent, when silence might be imputed to me as ingratitude. Please then to listen; I will speak briefly and plainly, as becomes a soldier. And you, Isabella, remember all that I am about to say, and make it a noble theme for your muse ... since now nothing is left to the warrior for reward but the smile of beauty, and the honor of a poem."

"Is not that enough?" asked Isabella.

"It is even too much.--All Christendom was in arms: knights of high lineage, plebeians, adventurers assembled from all sides to fight the enemies of Christ, in order to obtain remission for their sins, and the great indulgences promised by Pope Pius V. But although the desire of the warriors was great to meet the enemy in mortal combat, yet the secret intentions of the allied Princes were not in accordance with them. The Venetians craved the battle, the Pope more than they; but Philip II. of Spain was unwilling to risk an enterprise on which depended all the forces of his kingdom, and where victory would have been rather to the advantage of his allies than to himself; nor in his crafty and cunning mind did he desire the Italians to acquire fame; fearing lest they might be induced, as it is customary with human natures, to feel the want of acquiring a greater one.[56] The great _Comendador_ of Castille Requesens had been sent to Don John of Austria as a check, and he never ceased whispering in his ears, to curb his fiery spirit; that his supreme glory and religion ought to be the welfare and advancement of the king his brother; so that the great soul of this magnanimous man sadly wavered with painful uncertainty. But every day there arrived new forces ready to fight, seeking for no other reward or glory than that of shedding their own blood for the Faith. Don John would sigh from the depth of his heart, and with his eyes fixed upon the ground tremble with rage, or grow pale and disheartened. The advices of Gabrio Serbelloni, general of artillery, of Ascanio della Cornia, grand-master of the field, and of Sforza, Count of Santafiore, general of the Italians for king Philip, were of no little help to add spurs to his valorous soul. Yet, it seemed that the battle would not take place, for fortune hindered the enterprise with all her might; and indeed a vague report was spread, that, on account of the lateness of the season, and the stormy weather, this year they would only attempt to gain possession of Castelnuovo, or Nelona, or Durazzo, or Santa Maura. Add to this, that Don John, being greatly exasperated against the Venetians, was on the point of losing the occasion through which his name will descend immortal even to remote posterity. The Venetian galleys were somewhat ill supplied with soldiers, and accordingly Don John thought it best to replenish them with his Italian and Spanish troops; it was a remedy worse than the disease, since a day did not pass without tumults, quarrels, and bloody fights arising. Captain Muzio da Cortona, stationed on the galley of Andrea Calergi, a nobleman of Crete, having a quarrel with some Venetians, drew his sword, and wounded several of them; a melée ensued, they called to arms, and all the Venetians that happened to be around assailed and abused him badly; but Veniero, the Venetian general, as if this had not been enough, had him arrested, and hung without mercy. Don John, considering his authority offended, was resolved to take a solemn revenge against the Venetians, refusing to listen to all the arguments with which Marcantonio Colonna, and the Venetian Admiral Barbarigo, tried to pacify him.--But God, who watched over our safety, caused the arrival of the unhappy news of the loss of Famagosta; and that Marcantonio Bragadino and Astorre Baglioni, after having defended it valorously for ten months, were forced through want of ammunition, and the impatience of the citizens, to surrender it with honorable conditions. But the barbarian conqueror, violating his oath, ordered Bragadino's ears to be cut off, and then, having dragged him ignominiously to the market-place, after unheard of barbarities had him skinned alive; nor being yet satisfied with this, he caused the skin to be filled with straw, and hung to the mast of a galley, exhibiting through Soria and the other Turkish countries this infamous trophy.--It was on this occasion that Don John, shutting his eyes, and becoming pale as death, seemed like a man who had received a powerful blow upon the head; and he remained thus for a little while; then with regal dignity he turned appeased to Veniero, and extending his hand to him said: 'Peace! We have no enemies but the Turks.'--His aspect, the words, and the manner in which they were proffered, made all who stood around him shudder: imagine what effect they would have had upon the enemies! Marcantonio Colonna, who stood by him, related to me that in the fierce sparkling of the eyes of this magnanimous Prince he seemed to read the death sentence of twenty thousand infidels. Veniero pressed the invincible hand, kissed it, and could not help exclaiming with sobs: 'Unfortunate Bragadino! Unhappy blood!' Both Spaniards, Germans, and Italians, laying aside all animosity, threw their arms weeping around each other's necks, kissed each other's cheeks, and cried:--'Peace!'--Then with a sudden change they thrust their hands in their hair, stamped the pavement with their feet, and with loud voices cried:--'To arms, to arms!'--Be it so!--replied Don John, unsheathing his sword, which, glittering in the rays of the Sun, seemed to send forth sparks of divine fire; and ordered to be unfolded upon his galley the banner of the League sent by the Pope, whereon was painted the Crucifix, and beneath it the escutcheons of the Allies, in the middle that of the Pope, on the right that of the King of Spain, and on the left that of the Venetians. The wind, and it was no small omen of victory, unfolded through the air the glorious banner, so that it seemed as if invisible hands held it spread by the four corners; and Don John, fixing his eyes upon it with pious enthusiasm, exclaimed:--_In hoc signo vinces!_--_In hoc signo vinces!_ exclaimed those near him, and these sacred words spread like lightning, and were in a moment repeated from the most distant ships. The great Comendador, who had had a secret order from the king to hinder the enterprise, whether he thought it too dangerous to oppose it, or that he was carried along by the universal consent, changing his conduct and bearing, showed more enthusiasm than the others, and murmured often:--They may order us from Madrid to remain quiet, but before the enemy one cannot obey such mandates!--

[56] _i. e._ The liberation of Lombardy and the kingdom of Naples from the Spanish yoke.

"Another circumstance in which we saw the hand of God openly manifested was this, that the enemy being distant, and able to avoid a battle--and in fact some of their captains had advised it--there suddenly arrived some spies who notified them that the greater part of the Christian fleet had remained behind. This information was partly true, but had been a thousand fold exaggerated by report; for the only truth was, that the twenty-six galleys commanded by Don Cæsar Davalo of Arragon, who was then in great grief mourning the death of his brother the Marquis of Pescara, and who together with Don John had been appointed as commander-in-chief of the whole enterprise, had set sail late, and did not arrive in time. Upon these ships were the German infantry commanded by the Counts Alberigo Lodrone, and Vinciguerra d'Arco, so that, the battle having been won principally by the efforts of the Italians, we lost no glory on their account. Our spies also led us into the same error, for they, badly informed, reported to us that in the Turkish fleet Aluch Ali, Dey of Algiers, with his eighty galleys was wanting. Thus the desire of fighting on both sides was very great, each thinking to have the advantage over the other. Ali Pasha, Grand Admiral of the sea, finding the wind in his favor, without any longer delay moved all his fleet with much haste, but little order, from the Gulf of Lepanto. The knight Gildandrada, sent out to reconnoitre, returned the sixth of October, which was Saturday, in the dead of night, to notify us of the approach of the enemy: we sailed all night, and the next morning at dawn the seventh of October, the day of the Virgin St. Giustina, we came abreast of the Curzolares Islands, anciently called Echinades, about thirty-five miles distant from Lepanto. At this moment Giovanni Andrea Doria returned, notifying us to prepare for battle, for the Turkish fleet, favored by the wind, was coming upon us. Then Don John with great calmness ordered the fleet to be formed in battle array, which was this: the galleys were divided into a centre, two wings, an advanced guard, and a rear guard, so that it represented the form of an eagle.--Giovanni Andrea Doria commanded the right wing with fifty-three galleys, and hoisted a green flag on the mainmast of his ship. Agostino Barbarigo led the left wing with as many galleys, hoisting a yellow flag. Don Alvaro di Baxan, Marquis of Santacroce, was appointed to the command of the rear-guard with thirty galleys, and displayed a white flag on his ship, ready to come to assistance wherever the need required. Don John of Cardona, also carrying a white flag, led the advanced-guard with eight galleys. The centre, or as they call it, the _battle_, consisting of sixty-one galleys, was under the command of Don John, with a blue flag at the mast-head; and as they expected that the greatest efforts of the enemy would be turned in this direction, they placed in defence of the _Real_ galley, on the right the _Capitana_[57] of the Pope with General Marcantonio Colonna, Romagasso, and other Knights; on the left the Venetian _Capitana_, with General Sebastiano Veniero, after which was the _Capitana_ of Genoa with Alessandro Farnese, Prince of Parma, and on the other side the _Capitana_ of Savoy with Francesco Maria della Rovere, Duke of Urbino: the sides of this battle were closed on the right by the _Capitana_ of Malta, on the left by the _Capitana_ Lomellina, where I was;--aside the stern of the _Real_ stood the _Capitana_ and _Padrona_ of Spain with the great _Comendador_ Requesens. It was a very wise plan, as the effect showed, that of towing the six Venetian _galeazzas_, each armed with four hundred chosen arquebusiers, sixty brass cannons, bombs and rockets of all kinds, about half a mile ahead of the fleet; two of them commanded by Andrea Pesaro and Pietro Pisani in front of the right wing; the other two of Agostino and Antonio Bragadino, before the left; and the last two of Giacomo Guoro and Francesco Duodo in front of the _battle_.--Alas! why have I not a poetic genius, and why does not all Christendom listen, that I may extol with song, which makes even mortals eternal, those magnanimous men who came voluntarily to take a part in this memorable day? I would pray the Mother of God to recall to my memory the names of all the brave who conquered living, and the martyrs who conquered dying, and particularly the last, for although I believe that they are rejoicing now in the celestial abodes, yet the sound of deserved praise arises more welcome than incense, even to the blessed ones in heaven. But let us not pluck the laurel; for perhaps the poet will be born who with better voice will be able to dispense the deserved reward to these valorous men: it behoves us at least to hope so!--From the opposite side, borne by a north-east wind which blew favorably to it, the enemy's fleet advanced, occupying a larger space of water, hastily and in disorder, as if to exterminate us, and fearing to lose the opportunity of a certain victory. It was in the form of a crescent, and consisted of three hundred or more ships. Ali Pasha, Grand Admiral, and Pertau, general of the troops, commanded the _battle_: Siroco, Governor of Alexandria, and Mehemet Bey, Governor of Negropont, led the right wing; Uluch Ali, Dey of Algiers, the left. The Turkish _Real_ was no less strongly defended than ours, having at its sides six of the principal galleys, three on one side, and three on the other, upon which on the right were Pertau, Mamud Rais, captain of the janissaries, Lader Bey, governor of Metelin, and on the left Mustapha, treasurer, Caracoza, governor of Velona, and Carajali, captain of the Corsairs. Don John, as soon as he saw his fleet in order, went in a light barge flying from galley to galley, encouraging the men with very short but vigorous words to fight bravely, for the time, the place, and his nature did not allow of a long speech. It is said that when he came under the _Capitana_ of Venice, in seeing Sebastiano Veniero, an old man of three score years and ten, all armed with a sparkling and splendid armor, with his head uncovered showing his white locks, his face burning with martial fire inciting his men to act valorously, admiring the bravery of the man, he cried to him:--Father! Bless us all....--And Veniero, raising his eyes to heaven, as if begging from on high the power of blessing, stretched his arm, and making the sign of the Cross exclaimed:--Be all blessed in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost.--From all the galleys there then issued forth a shout foreboding approaching slaughter."

[57] Flagship.

"I remember," interrupted Titta, "that when he arrived under our Lomellina, he kissed his hand to us, and cried:--Brave men, I say nothing to you!--and disappeared."

"The Capuchin friars and the Jesuits with crucifixes in their hands, fearless of the imminent danger, ran up and down the galleys, cheering all spirits, granting to all the remission of their sins, innumerable indulgences, and a certain hope of conquering, and immense booty.

"When Don John returned on board his galley, he noticed at a little distance a small vessel full of powerful rowers as if waiting: he inquired about it of the captain, who replied:--he had it prepared for any emergency that might happen, in order that he could retreat;--and Don John replied fiercely:--Sink it to the bottom; for I swear to God that I had rather die fighting for Christ, than escape with shame.--And to the _Comendador_, who by duty of his office warned him to think better before adventuring on a decisive battle, he replied:--Now the time for counsel is past; it is the time for combat.

"The Turkish _Real_ begins to fire: the sound of the artillery is spread; the signal is given, our _Real_ replies; the battle is engaged. It was the design of the enemy to push forward with the wind in their favor in the shape of a crescent, surround our wings, pass behind, and enclose us in a circle of death. They took little notice of the six _galeazzas_, and those valorous Venetians did not stir until the enemy was within half an arquebuse-shot; then, suddenly, and at the same moment, they fired three hundred and sixty cannons, and two thousand four hundred arquebuses! The terrible noise astounded even those who had caused it; the sea shook as if by a storm, and the galleys, hurled by a most violent shock, began to roll in disorder; but our men very soon regained their spirits on discovering the great damage done to the enemy, and loading their arquebuses with wonderful readiness continued to fire desperately upon them. And I desire you to know that on this occasion the arquebuse with a lock was of great service to us, for being small, and easy to manage, it enabled our men to fire three times before the enemy could fire once with their heavy ones: and this was the first moment of our victory. Skill conquered fury, and the Moslems, unaccustomed to such encounter, had to keep their distance all torn and bloody, change the order of battle, and form themselves into three divisions like us.

"Although the valor of our men was very great, yet the Lord wished to show with a more visible sign that he was fighting for us, for just then happened a memorable changing of the wind; the north-east, which had so far been favorable to the Turks, ceased, and there arose a south-west propitious to the Christians, carrying the smoke against them, and preventing them from seeing. Siroco, in the mean while, not at all daunted, ordered his galleys to avoid the _galeazzas_, and, grazing the shore where the river Acheloo falls into the sea, to rush between the land and the galleys of Barbarigo, and strive to assail him in the rear. Barbarigo, however, not a less skilful captain, ordered his extreme galleys to approach the land, and describe with the others a diagonal line, forming an acute angle of which one side was formed by the land, the other by his galleys; and taking Siroco in the flank, with the aid of the propitious wind pushed him towards the island. The fight was carried on desperately on both sides; but the Turkish galleys continually losing sea, struck against the shore, the Christians followed and reached them, and as many Mussulmans as fell into their hands they put to death; of the galleys some fell into our hands, others were sunk by the artillery, others burnt. We did not, however, gain the victory without blood, for, to say nothing of many others, in the very heat of the melée between Siroco and Barbarigo, almost at the same moment the former fell dead, and the latter mortally wounded with an arrow in his eye, in the act of removing the shield from before his face, in order to spur the combatants to do their utmost. Barbarigo, feeling himself mortally struck, whilst staggering back, appointed in his place Mario Quirini, who, seconded by Antonio Canale and by Cicogna, followed the course of victory, destroying the remains of this fleet commanded by Mehemet Bey, Pasha of Negropont, and by Ali, the redoutable Corsair. It was in this action that Cicogna, wounded in the hands and face by a grenade, bearing manfully the most intense pain, would not retire until he had taken the enemy's galley, which now is preserved as a noble trophy in the Arsenal of Venice; and the valiant Antonio Casale dressed with a long and white garment thickly lined with cotton, a hat of the same material and shoes of ropes in order not to slip, swinging a double-handed sword, filled with terror and slaughter the enemy's galleys upon which he leaped with wonderful dexterity and nimbleness. Giovanni Contarini had the glory of taking the galley of Siroco, and finding on it this enemy of the Christian name dead, had his head cut off and fixing it upon a spear cried out three times:--Behold the head of Siroco!--in order to encourage his men, and terrify the enemy.

"The dying Barbarigo was lying near the wheel, and from time to time asked those around him:--Have we conquered yet? When Quirino, tearing the flag from the enemy's mast, ran to where Barbarigo was, crying:--Victory!--the dying man wiped the blood from his eyes heavy with death's sleep, and saw the hated flag, and smiled; then he begged them to hand it to him, and grasping it convulsively, he rolled himself in it as in a winding sheet, and expired. We, daring not to separate him from the trophy upon which his glorious soul breathed its last, wrapped in the same flag buried him with great honors in consecrated ground.

"But the greatest struggle took place around the _battle_. Ali Pasha had come forward boldly, and as the Turks are accustomed to, with a deafening noise of drums, trumpets, and similar warlike instruments; and they even presumed to frighten us more with threats, cries, and striking of weapons against each other. Don John, armed with mail, holding a heavy battle-axe in his hand, placed himself with all his person exposed in a lofty place on the poop, and ordered Lopez di Figheroa, leader of the arquibusiers, that whatever the enemies might say or do, no one should dare to open the fire until he had given a signal by lifting his battle-axe. The Moslems advancing nearer and nearer, fired their arquebuses and arrows, with no small loss on our side; and we were also greatly damaged by two cannon in the enemy's prow, which would have cleared our decks if they had been quicker in loading and firing them. It seemed hard to us to be forced to remain inactive during so great a slaughter, so much the more as from time to time we saw some friend or relative fall at our side, removed all bleeding, and carried below. We should have accused Don John of cowardice, if we had not known what a man he was; and looking at him, he seemed to us a statue of bronze amid bullets and arrows which hissed around him, and of which he took no more notice than of the wind which lifted his hair. When the Turkish _Real_ arrived within less than half an arquebuse shot from us, Don John raised his battle-axe, and whirled it impetuously around his head: our fire seemed one single shot; the smoke moving towards the enemy prevented us from seeing the damage which they had received; when it cleared off, the enemy's deck looked almost deserted. But before the smoke had entirely passed away Don John ordered the oarsmen to pull with their whole might, and the galley, pushed also by the wind, flew like a bird. Don John had also prepared another stratagem, which was this, to have the beak of his galley suddenly cut, so that, approaching nearer to the enemies, there would be a better opportunity of boarding them: this example was immediately followed by us all, and was another cause of victory.

"The smoke disappeared, and Ali's galley seemed almost deserted. Don John, seizing the opportunity, cried:--Forward, cavaliers, let us go to victory ... we cannot but conquer, for dying, there awaits us a palm in heaven; living, a laurel on the earth.--And cutting short his speech, being more eager to act, he ran impetuously forward, followed by his valiant knights, and behold in an instant they boarded and entered the Turkish _Real_. Ali, meanwhile, a wary captain, had called aid from the surrounding ships, who, approaching quickly, by means of ladders and ropes, ascended from abaft, whilst ours entered from the prow: thence the battle was renewed more bitterly, and all concentrated about the mainmast; the Turks were not able to expel the Christians, nor the Christians to master entirely the half conquered galley. The crowd was so great, and the ranks so close, that they could not use any other weapon than the poniard, and the combatants, crazy with fury, used their teeth as if they had been wild beasts; and one could have seen that forest of heads bending to and fro, like a field of ripe grain agitated by contrary winds. They asked for no quarter, nor desired it: it was a war of extermination. But whatever might have been the cause, behold the Christians began to waver, drew back, and the adversaries where ours raised their feet, placed theirs, and grew bold in proportion as ours lost courage: already many of the retreating, pressed by the irresistible impetus, fell headlong into the water, others more fortunate leaped upon the _Real_ of Spain.... What more? Don John himself is carried along in the shameful flight. Our commanders, though, not less wary than the enemy, had already reinforced the _Real_ with fresh troops, who coming to the rescue not only prevented the Turks from boarding our galley, not only held them steadfast upon the extreme edge of the prow, but pushed them back forcibly, and gave a chance to ours to board again the Turkish _Real_. A new struggle was engaged upon the galley's deck, and already for more than an hour blood had been shed, nor could it be told where victory would lean; the deck was covered with blood, all along the gangways, down in the sides the galley drips blood, the sea raising its foam horribly red seemed to boil with blood. Alas! what cruel wine war pours in her banquets!--Four times were we repulsed, four times we boarded the Turkish _Real_: torn on both sides, on both sides many illustrious dead, and the surviving ones partly wounded, partly so exhausted, as not to be able to raise their swords. In one of these struggles the valorous knight Bernardino Cardine was killed without any wound: a cannon ball struck his shield, which, being covered with excellent steel plate, did not break, but hit so violently against his breast, that he fell dead on the deck. And the last time Don John was repulsed, another noteworthy accident happened; he was retreating without ever turning his head from the enemy, when either his foot slipped upon the gory deck, or by some other accident he fell, and was on the point of falling headlong into the water, had it not been for a Spanish soldier, who had never departed from his side, and who seizing him by the waist with his right hand, held himself fast with his left in the rigging. Suddenly the soldier uttered a cry; his left arm hung down severed, he and Don John would have fallen overboard, had not the Spaniard happened to seize a rope with his teeth, and hold fast to it until, with ready aid, they were both saved.

"Don John unhurt prepared himself for the last struggle.--Valiant men, he cried, yet one last effort, and we have conquered.--Whilst he was about reorganizing his Spanish knights, who on that day showed really a Roman valor, two events happened which gave us the victory. The galley commanded by Alfonzo d'Appiano thundered with its artillery on the Turkish _Real_, and being of low deck, sent its shots into the hull of the enemy, destroying everything they met, and this was one of the chief things to which we owed our victory. A shot hit a large beam, and hurled it with so much violence against Ali, that he, hurt in many places, struck violently against the mainmast, and gushing blood from many wounds, fell down dying upon the deck.--Now what was Marcantonio Colonna doing? Had his valor, the memory of past deeds, the warmth with which he had undertaken this enterprise, failed him all at once, and in this great moment of need? How could he, a general of the Pontiff, see unmoved so much Christian blood shed?--He was sailing over the waters as if he was taking a pleasure trip to enjoy the evening breeze; he even disappeared from the deck, and no one knew what had become of him.--This most singular man had had the constancy to remain in the midst of the fire of artillery, the breaking of beams, the falling of masts and ropes, amidst the horrible and various aspects of death, without moving an inch, awaiting the opportune time of exterminating the enemy: when he perceived the chance before him, he rushed below deck, and addressing the galley-slaves at the oars, thus spoke: Men! God had redeemed you, and you have rendered yourselves unworthy of the redemption; the water of baptism was poured on your heads in vain, for you have so contaminated them with wicked deeds, that there is no more room for a blessing. You despair of your eternal safety. Your mothers, your wives, your children, whenever in this world they proffer your name, bow down their faces for shame; the citizens look upon you as wild beasts. Heaven repulses you, and the earth abhors you. No matter, I will reconcile you both to God and men: I can so do that your names shall be recalled with pride by your relatives; I can so do that the hand of the most noble knight of Christendom shall be stretched towards yours without esteeming it dishonored...."--And those poor men cried with one voice:--"Alas! our Lord, have mercy upon us! Give us at least the chance of dying in battle."--"Be it so," replied Marcantonio, "I give you your liberty: do not move from your posts: I return on deck: when you hear the sound of a trumpet, be ready, and at the second blast, bend to your oars with the greatest strength that nature has given you. When you shall perceive that we have struck the enemy's galley, then come out, and fight as your souls may inspire you.--He returned on deck, and seizing the helm directed the prow against the vessel of Ali. The trumpet sounded the first blast, then the second. The galley leaped like a wounded seal through the water, which, struck violently by the oars, surged and gurgled, foaming impetuously; then darting over a short space struck with an irresistible impetus the designed place. The Turkish _Real_ was almost upset: on one side the deck was plunged into the sea, on the other it even showed its keel; the greater part of its defenders was hurled with great force far into the water, and it would have been even so with the Admiral, had he not grappled the mainmast with both arms. When the galley righted, Colonna, taking advantage of the enemy's confusion, jumped on board accompanied by his men, and made himself master of it. This deed rekindled the ire of the commanders of the galleys ordered to the defence of the _Real_, and seven of them moved at once to the rescue, and threatened Don John. Veniero alone moved to meet them all, sustaining their attacks with wonderful valor. But that fierce old man, overcome by the number, saw every moment his men diminish; an arrow had pierced his foot, and partly on account of the intensity of the pain, partly by the loss of blood, he felt that he could withstand it no longer: there was urgent need of help, but he would not bend to ask it. Giovanni Loredano and Caterino Malipiero saw the danger of the illustrious old man, and rushed to his assistance; these two chivalrous youths could have remained behind the bulwarks, which were to us a great shelter through that battle, but their bold nature did not allow it; they stood both exposed from their waist upwards, and fighting like true champions of Christ, they fell both dead on the deck, hit by several shots. The Marquis of Santa Croce, who had already moved to their aid, arrived, if not in time to save their lives, at least opportunely to avenge their deaths: the Turks were all cut to pieces, and the galleys fell into our hands. The report tells that Veniero made himself master of the _Capitana_ of Pertau Pasha, but it is not true, for it was the Lomellina that conquered Pertau...."

"Ah! my Lord Duke," interrupted Titta, "it ill becomes you to relate this part of the battle. It was indeed so; we conquered the _Capitana_ of the Pasha, and in truth, if we used all our utmost efforts to conquer, the enemies also used no less desperate resistance to oppose us. I remember that the valiant Marino Contarino died in this affray; and, with immortal example, the four brothers Cornaro; alas! the flower of the most magnanimous knights was dying; but, although beset on all sides by the enemy's galleys, we did not abandon our prize, and rushed on, determined to conquer or to die. It is true that every footstep we advanced cost us blood, but they were footsteps to victory: already panting and fighting with our daggers, we reached the middle of the galley. My Lord the Duke at the head of all seemed an angel who led us to triumph...."

"And if you, Titta, had loved your master less, by this time there would only be left of him the bare bones, and the name. I recall with grief to my mind Orazio and Virginio Orsini, my relatives, who fell mortally wounded at my feet; and my nephew Fabio, who, hit by a shot on his shoulder, rolled on the deck, and died without lamenting the flower of his lost youth, happy at being called so soon to the peace of God; and I, whilst I bent down to help him, felt my left leg transfixed by an arrow, and as I lifted my head, a hand grasping a poniard was about striking me unprepared for defence; the poniard escaped from the hand, and fell harmless upon my body, the hand also fell upon my head, but severed from the arm, and with it a torrent of blood poured on my face...."

"So it was; it came in my way without my thinking of it, and I cut it off like a reed...."

"And I profess myself indebted to you for my life, and as long as Paolo Giordano Orsini shall have a heart and a home, Titta Carbonana will occupy a place in them....--Let us drink!--To the memory of the dead in the battle of Lepanto!"

"May God keep them all in His glory!"--was answered from all sides.

"Come now," continued the Duke, "let us finish the story. Our Lomellina, aided by Vincenzo Querini, took five out of the seven galleys that fought against it. Pertau, throwing himself into a skiff, using his oars vigorously, went off; and we saw the back of this cruel man turned in bitter flight. Many boast of having killed Caracozza; but the truth is that Giovanbattista Benedetti, of Cyprus, a man of great valor, having overcome the Corcut galley, noticed Caracozza near by, and rushed desperately upon him. With no less fury Caracozza fell upon Benedetti, whether driven to it by a desire for glory, or, as it was supposed, by an old enmity: they met:--a discharge of arquebuses fired from both sides enveloped them in smoke, and when it cleared off, they were both dead, shot with many bullets in the breast. The command of Benedetti devolved on Onorato Gaetano, nephew of the Pope, who, as we have heard from persons worthy of belief, seconded by Alessandro Negroni and by Pattaro Buzzacherino, with no great difficulty, brought this honorable fight to a happy end. The Christian slaves upon the Turkish galleys, noticing by the confusion that fortune was abandoning their hated masters, break their chains, and seizing those arms which despair or chance places in their hands, take a bitter revenge for their long sufferings, and insure the victory. Whilst these events were taking place in the _battle_, and on the left wing of the Christian armada, the right wing was meeting with an adverse fate. Giovanni Andrea Doria, who was to detach himself only four lengths of a galley from the _battle_, transgressed his orders, and extended his line too far. They say that he did this with a good intention, both in order to give more freedom of action to the _battle_, and to the left wing to place themselves in good order, and also for fear of being surrounded by Uluch Ali, who came against him with a greater number of galleys than his own; or perhaps in order to take the wind aft, so as to fall with greater force upon the enemy. But Uluch Ali, a most expert sea captain, when he saw that the galleys of the right wing, so scattered and distant, could not easily help each other, without minding that he was on the lee, beset on all sides the scattered ships with a superior force, and after killing the principal captains, took twelve of them. On this occasion the great valor of Benedetto Soranzo was manifest; a man rather to be compared to the ancient than to modern heroes; for seeing the greater part of his companions around him dead or wounded, and he himself being wounded in several places, he had not the heart to allow his galley to be trodden by the foot of a Moslem, nor that one day the enemy, refitting it, should use it against his most beloved country; therefore, rushing below where the ammunition of powder was stored, he set fire to it, and hurled, with terrible explosion, himself, the galley, and all the enemies that stood on it, torn and mutilated into the air. One alone by a lucky chance escaped, and it was Giacomo Giustiniani, who, thrown uninjured far distant into the water, succeeded miraculously in saving himself by swimming. Nor ought I to be silent about the fierce encounter of the _Capitana_ of Malta, which, assailed by three Turkish galleys, fought intrepidly; but Uluch Ali, recognising the flag of St. John, and as he professed himself a mortal enemy to the Order of Malta, did not shame to send against it three other galleys in order to have it at all cost. Pietro Giustignano, general of the Order, seeing that there was no chance left for himself and his knights, exhorted them to die chivalrously, since there was no hope of conquering, and as to surrendering, not one even thought of it. This combat of six galleys against one, glorious for the Christians, infamous for the Turks, lasted three hours; two thirds of the rowers lay dead, the other third were bleeding; the general killed with three ghastly wounds; fifty most noble knights dead; the galley occupied even to the main castle; the banner fallen into the enemy's hands; and yet the survivors strove to defend themselves. Agnolo Martellini, a Florentine knight, who was less wounded than the others, sustained the honorable and hopeless defence. Uluch Ali, mad with rage, ordered the galley to be set on fire, but Doria, spurring his oarsmen to their utmost, reached it in time for revenge, and accomplished it; for falling upon the enemy, wearied by the bitter struggle, he made a horrible slaughter, killing Carag Ali, Captain of Algiers, with many other Turkish officers.--And glorious with fame and misfortune were the Tuscan galleys, which unfortunately were under the orders of Doria. The Florentina, assailed by seven small galleys, was empty both of soldiers and crew; Tommaso dei Medici, badly wounded, alone survived; but the greater part of the knights of St. Stephen died fighting till their last breath. The galley of St. John, commanded by the knight Agnolo Biffali, suffered a struggle no less fatal; for the captain was wounded by two arquebuse shots on the neck; and besides the knights Simone Tornabuoni and Luigi Ciacchi, there perished sixty most valiant soldiers; and worse would the galley upon which Ascianio della Cornia was fighting have fared, surrounded by four of the enemy, if Alfonzo di Appiano, admiral of the Florentine galleys, had come less quickly to his aid. But now there rang from every side the cry of victory, and Uluch Ali, seeing all the enemy's armada move against him to surround and overcome him, resolved to draw off. Don Giovanni di Cardona endeavored to oppose his retreat with eight Sicilian galleys, but thrust aside by superior force, with no little damage, he was obliged to yield the way. The Admirals Canale and Querini endeavored to give chase to him, but, their oarsmen being too much exhausted by the fatigues endured, with infinite bitterness, they had to allow him to save himself with his forty ships, our galley of Corfu, and the banner of St. John. In this flight two incidents worthy of note happened. Giovanbattista Mastrillo of Nota and Giulio Caraffa, a Neapolitan, whilst they were, with several companions, prisoners on two separate brigs, showing at the same moment the same boldness, as if they had agreed upon it before, rose against the Turks, killed the Rays and all those who attempted to resist, and having become, from slaves and conquered, free and conquerors, they returned to us with the enemy's brigs full of slaves and very rich booty.

"The sun was setting, surrounded by black clouds, throwing across the waves an oblique ray, so that it happened that the part enlightened shone with a vivid glare, while the rest of the sea was covered with darkness: to the roar of the sea were added cries, imprecations, prayers, sobs, which afar seemed like a single wail, the weeping of Nature over the slaughter of her children, certainly not created by her to thus tear each other to pieces! Within that streak of light, deeds were seen to make even angels weep; and some, but few, really worthy of the celestial origin of man. We could see some people regardless of danger, ascend the burning galleys, rush amidst the flames, without fear that, the powder taking fire, plunder and plunderers might be shattered to atoms; others not yet satisfied with fighting, urged by implacable hatred, grasping each other by the hair or beard, and, in the lack of weapons, striking with their fists, tearing each other with their teeth, and now one head, now another, disappearing under the water, until the latter, as if disdainful that so much anger should yet last in creatures so weak and perishable, whirled them into its immense bosom, to rise no more. A little further on, two, three, or four men would contend for a mast, board, or beam, in order to cling to it, and remain until some aid could arrive; but while with more charity and better wisdom, that plank of safety might have been enough for all, wasting their last strength to possess it, each one exclusively, a common fate overpowered them all; others, stupid with fear, hating to drown, would get hold of a burning fragment, and escaping the water, perish by the flames; and an infinite number of skiffs rowed on this side and on that, full of people drunk with victory, who used the heads of Turks swimming on the water for targets, as the hunter does the ducks in a pond; and to those who approached begging for their lives, they would allow that they should catch hold of the edge of the skiffs, or extend an oar as if to help them, then with the axe would cut their hands or cleave their heads with shocking and cruel wounds. A few of these skiffs went in search of some beloved relative or companion, whether alive or dead: sacred but vain undertaking! not entirely vain, however; for some succeeded in finding what they sought, and saved a dear friend from a watery grave: if yet alive, they would strive with all manner of remedies to bandage his wounds, and preserve his life; but if dead, they would clothe him, arm him with his best armor, place a sword in his hand, and honor him with praise and worship as if a martyr.

"This battle, in which more than five hundred ships were engaged, lasted from midday till after four o'clock: of the enemy there died, some say twenty thousand, some thirty thousand, and some, even more; no one counted them.[58] On our side, seven thousand six hundred and fifty-six failed to answer the roll; we liberated twelve thousand Christian slaves; took two hundred ships; lost only the galley of Corfu: of all the other ships of the enemy, except the forty escaped with Uluch Ali, some were sunk, some burned; we took one hundred and seventeen cannons, two hundred and fifty-eight smaller pieces of artillery, and seventeen mortars; the prisoners falling into our hands were four thousand, among whom were the two sons of Ali Pasha, the oldest of whom died at Naples of a broken heart; and the other was kindly treated by the Pope, and then, at the instance of Don John, restored without ransom. The booty was immense. In the galley of Ali were found twenty-two thousand crowns of gold, in the other of Caracozza, forty thousand; and in all the others a great quantity of money, weapons, cloth, and rich garments; since the Turks, thinking by merely showing themselves to put the Christians to flight, and that they were going on an excursion rather than to a fight, came provided with their best habiliments and draperies, and surrounded by all those luxuries which they were accustomed to enjoy in the security of cities; besides they brought with them the noble spoils of Cyprus and the Christian shores, which in their long voyage they had plundered.

[58] _But no one counted them._ This was the expression used by that judicious Ludovico Muratori narrating in his _Annals_ the Battle of Lepanto.

"But General Veniero, who, having passed the greater part of his life at sea, was a cautious mariner, advised Don John to put into some neighboring port without loss of time, and selected Petala on the coast of Matalia, since the weather threatened a storm. The armada followed the command, and forcing their sails and oars, rode safely at anchor about nine o'clock in the evening at Petala, only six miles from the scene of battle.

"Don John, urged by his generous nature, ordered first of all that the wounded should be provided for, and we obeyed as well as we could; and he himself, without indulging in rest or food, visited the sick. Indeed he could be of little aid to these unfortunate people, but his friendly presence, the chivalry of his aspect, a word of comfort spoken to some one of them, rendered the pains of the wounds less bitter, and death more tolerable. Now it happened, that while Don John was passing near a wounded man lying on a heap of straw, the latter saluted him familiarly, saying:

"'_Buenas noches_, Don Juan.'

"And the former, to whom the voice was not new, but who, in that moment, could not remember whose it was, replied in his native tongue, in which the wounded man had spoken:

"'God and the Holy Virgin keep you in their guard, brave man: you, as it seems, are wounded; suffer patiently; I pray God for your health.... With a little price you have acquired an immortal fame.' ...

"'The price is not little;--but no matter, Don John, you do not seem to recognise me.'

"'It seems to me!... But can it be possible!... Don Miguel?' ...

"'De Cervantes Saavedra, at your service.'

"'What! Don Miguel? Give me your hand.'

"'I have already given it to you, Don John; if it could grow again, by my faith, I would give it to you again.'

"And the wounded man showed in the dark his mutilated arm wrapped in bloody linen. Don John then recognised in him the soldier who had supported him when falling and in danger of his life; he was silent, and had it not been for the darkness, we should have seen the unconquerable captain weep. After a short pause, Don John resumed in a moved voice:

"'And when did you arrive? And why did you not present yourself?'

"Don Miguel replied:

"'I arrived late, because, thanks to the sacred college of the Muses,[59] of whom I confess myself a most unworthy priest, I had not money enough to pay for a horse or carriage to go from Genoa to Naples; and God knows how I grieved about it, for fear of not arriving in time; but as it pleased Our Lady, I reached the army in time for the review which you held at Gomenizze. I had resolved to place myself during the battle at your side, prepared to defend with my life the most valiant champion of Christianity, and the noblest blood of Spain. Fortune, kind to me for this once, assented fully to my design, and I ought to thank her, if, having resigned my life to her, she restored it to me with one hand the less. It seemed then better to me not to discover myself, for if death spared me, I could have pressed your honored hand, and rejoiced in your glory; if, on the contrary, it was destined that I should fall, you, being ignorant of it, would not have grieved for me; and, finally, if we had both died, we should now be together in the presence of God.'

[59]

God of the lyre, and goddesses of song In vain for gold your faithful votaries sigh, Small need and recompense to them belong;-- E'en a poor cloak I have not means to buy.

Apollo, tuo mercè, tuo mercè santo Collegio delle Muse, io non mi trovo Tanto per voi, ch'io possa farmi un manto.

ARIOSTO--SATIRE.

"These simple words, yet full of majesty and greatness, filled us with wonder; when a Spaniard interrupted our holy silence, observing:--'Who would have believed we should meet our Poet among the warriors of Lepanto?'--To which observation Don Miguel calmly replied:

"'Sir knight, your wonder would cease, if you would for a moment consider that all that which appears to us great, noble, and glorious, is poetry. Our Don John ought to be hailed as the greatest Poet of Spain.... There are two kinds of Poets--those who enact glorious things, and those who sing them. Don John has given us the subject of the poem--now who will write for him the noble Epic? Ah! Lord ... not I ... for I am not equal to the task.'

"Thus met the two choicest spirits that Spain ever produced: both very great and both very unhappy, and held in little repute in that country, which shall have fame among posterity principally because it was their native place.

"As Veniero had foreseen, a terrible storm raged during the night. The burning galleys, blazing more than ever, now appeared upon the summit of the waves, now disappeared; some, leaning sideways, moved rapidly on the surface of the water.... Indeed they looked like demons, who issuing from hell had come to gather souls, and to exult over the immense slaughter in the place of combat!--On the morrow, thousands of corpses were washed on shore, and the ocean rolled on as in the first days of creation: the swelling surge breaking against the shore, seemed to say:--'O land, take back your children; behold! with a breath of my nostrils I have repulsed this bloody and cruel dust, which you call humanity. If your children love to furrow my face, I soon close up this furrow, so that none can find the trace of it. If I bear them on my back, I do it as a boy with playthings, in order to divert myself, and then I break them: behold, I have purified myself from them; the trace of the slaughter of Lepanto remains upon me as the trace of the halcyon's flight through the air. You, my unworthy sister, allow their cities to stand, and, daily torn and tortured in a thousand ways, dare not revenge yourself but from your open furrows send forth everlasting fruits to nourish them; come! be wise once, open your bosom and bury them all. If when greatly angered, you overthrow some city, or swallow some chain of mountains, your wrath seems more like that of a mother who chides, than an executioner who punishes. I, once, came to wash you with a universal ablution, and would gladly do it again, for I see that you are more stained than before, if the word of God did not repulse me from your shores. Come, beg the Creator with me to revoke the command, and I will clean you for ever with the multitude of my waters,--with a deluge--for this time;--without Noah.' ... Thus my affected fancy imagined.--How much all Christendom exulted, you all know.

"The Holy Pontiff ordered a great part of the wall near the gate of Capena to be thrown down, in order to admit through that opening Marcantonio Colonna into Rome drawn in a triumphal chariot like the ancient Cæsars to the Capitol, where there was presented to him a great amount of money, which, accepted by him, he, thanking the Pope, deposited in trust to be used as a dowry for many poor and orphan maidens. Thus, rich only with increase of fame, Marcantonio returned home, so much more the greatest, as he was the only one: a truly Roman soul! The Venetians, whose soldiers fallen in battle amounted to two thirds of the whole armada, would not consent to mourn for the valorous men, who, fighting for the faith, had died for it with weapons in their hands, leaving immortal fame; and their relatives appeared at the public thanksgivings which were rendered to God, dressed in brocade and other precious robes: they also, a Latin race! What you may not have heard, is this; that Philip of Spain was very sorry for the victory, reproaching his brother for having risked the forces of the kingdom, without any advantage resulting to him from the victory; and while the Holy Pontiff, in the effusion of his heart, hailed Don John with the words of the Evangelist:--_Fuit homo missus a Deo, cui nomen erat Joannes_;--there were some in the king's council, who dared even to propose whether it were advisable to have his head cut off. Even Philip himself was ashamed of the impudent cowardice of his counsellers; a greater cowardice than he himself would have wished. Don John escaped with his life, but humiliated by the undeserved rebuke, grief and indignation now oppress him;--and this was Spanish envy!--What benefit did the Christians derive from so many dead, so much valor, and such a wonderful victory? Nothing, but fame. O glory, inebriation of great souls, how you fall from estimation and desire, when you are made the tool of kings, cool calculators of noble passions! Every one thinks of himself, and for to-day; for the morrow he neither knows nor cares. Venice on the sea, Poland on the land, remain abandoned like two lost bulwarks against the forces of the enemies of Faith. One day (may God avert the omen) these bulwarks conquered, the Christians will awake at the cries of the plundered fields, at the flames of the burning cities;--if God does not help us, in twenty years we shall be all Moslems."

Here the Duke ended his long narrative, and from around the room there rose a murmur of applause and at the same time of dread; and after the company had tarried for some time in pleasant conversation, the hour being already late, they rose from the table. The Duke dismissed them with agreeable and courteous manner, begging them to be ready on the morrow for the hunt, before the Sun should be too warm. He himself, offering his arm to his wife, accompanied her to the foot of the stairs, where, kissing her hand, with many wishes for a very good night, he withdrew.

Every one retired to his own apartment, and in expectation of a merry time for the morrow, went to rest.

* * * * *

In less than half an hour all seemed to be wrapt in sleep. It _seemed_ only!--The Duke of Bracciano watched. Coming into his chamber he threw himself upon a seat, leaning his head on one hand, the other hanging down. He was pale and changed, yet did not utter a word: two beautiful white hounds with scarlet collars marked with gold about their necks, accustomed to receive his caresses, lay at his feet gazing at him, and as if to draw the attention of their master softly licked his hands. It would seem as if a fierce contest betwixt would and would not was raging in the Duke's soul, and that having examined everything, discussed the benefit or injury resulting from it, weighing all reasons for good or bad, or all those that seemed so to him, and the insult, the revenge, and the forgiveness, one might clearly discern to what conclusion he had at last arrived, when these words escaped from his lips: "It is a thing that _must_ be done!" Then added quickly:

"Titta!"

"My Lord."

Duke Bracciano hissed from his mouth:

"Have you prepared everything?"

"I have."

A wearisome silence succeeded: the Duke first broke it saying:

"Titta!"

"My Lord."

"Ah! it would have been better to have died in the battle of Lepanto."

"It would."

"Tell me, is not my wife a handsome woman? Is she not graceful, elegant, endowed with all the gracious manners of noble birth?"

"Yes, my Lord, yes."

"And would it not seem sacrilege to extinguish in a moment with one treacherous blow so much beauty and genius?"

"It would have been better, my Lord, to have died in the battle of Lepanto!"

The Duke arose, wiping the perspiration dripping from his brow;--he walked the room restlessly: then suddenly stopping, and fixing his eyes on Titta, said:

"Do you not know better than to express wishes for things impossible to happen? Have you no better advice than this for me?--Nothing, nothing. Are you a man, or only the echo of a cave?"

"Did you not say, _it must be done_? How can you expect servants to advise, when they know that the master would hold their advices as a resistance to his own desires?"

"Titta, you are right;--with me you always have the grave offence of being in the right.... Is all that I ordered ready?..."

"Everything ... you may see for yourself ... by looking up...."

"It is all right ... no matter ... I trust you...." And instead of raising his eyes he fixed them on the floor. "Now take these two hounds, and go as silently as you can to the room of the Duchess; knock softly ... and say to her ..." and he whispered in his ear. Titta nodded assent. The Duke then said in his usual voice:

"Using courteous words; in a pleasant manner. Do you understand?... Go now...."

But as Titta made some delay, he repeated:

"Go!..."

Titta took the hounds, but before he crossed the threshold of the door he stopped, and turning towards the Duke, said slowly:

"Must I go, my Lord?"

"Go ... go.... _It must be done!_"

And Titta went.--He ascended the staircase softly, and approached the room of the Duchess, and scarcely had he knocked, before a voice from within called:

"Who is there?"

"I come by the Duke's order, my Lady, to beg you to accept these two hounds that he sends you as a present, hoping you for his sake will hold them dear; and desires also that to-morrow you will observe in the chase if they are active and fleet;--he also prays you to come to him for a short time, wishing to see you, after so many years of absence, without witnesses."

Titta, on entering, saw the Duchess with the Lady Lucrezia Frescobaldi kneeling before an image of the Blessed Virgin, reading prayers from a Missal; and he said to himself: "Better thus, she is provided with sacrament for the great journey."

Isabella stood up, and said to Lucrezia:

"_Should I, or should I not, go to sleep with my husband? What say you?_"

Lady Frescobaldi, shrugging her shoulders, replied:

"_Do whatever you wish; he is your husband still._"[60]

[60] Those were the very words spoken by Isabella to Lucrezia, as the records of the time report them precisely.

"I will go then."

The poor Duchess descended slowly, but without trembling.

Lady Lucrezia, moved by curiosity, or compassion, or rather by both, stirred from her usual impassibility, decided to follow her unobserved in the distance. Scarcely did she see her enter her husband's room, ere she hastened her steps, and placed her ear at the door.

She heard merry greetings and cheerful salutations.

"God be thanked, it begins well,"--she murmured.

Then listened again, and heard a sound of laughter, and kisses given and returned.

"Better and better ..."

And holding her breath, she still listened eagerly.--But we will say no more, only repeat with the Poet:

The modest Muse forbears to speak Of close embrace and flashing cheek, And kisses warm, and words of love; The strings though struck, no sounds return, Responsive to the stars that burn, The stars that in conjunctions move; But to themselves they murmur low The secret words that none may know, Which..............[61]

Lady Lucrezia returned on tip-toe to her own room, saying to herself: "I think that there will be no storm in the house after all, or if there should be one, we will see it terminate with some lightning perhaps, but without thunderbolt."

[61]

Gli abbracciamenti, i baci, e i colpi lieti, Tace la casta Musa vergognosa, E dalla congiunzion di quei pianeti Ritorce il plettro, e di cantar non osa. Sol mormora tra se detti secreti, Che..............

TASSONI.

* * * * *

Half an hour, or a little more, had passed, from the time in which Lady Lucrezia left the door of the Duke, when it opened, and Titta came out, crossing the hall which led to the door of Troilo's apartment, and arriving there, knocked with his knuckles upon it, without much caution.

Troilo, although there seemed to be no cause for fear, yet either on account of the unusual excitement, the warmth of the day, or from too much drinking, his blood had become so heated, that, tossing about the bed, he could not sleep. Therefore hearing the knock he jumped out of bed, and opened the door.

"What is it, Titta?"

"Sir Troilo, my Lord the Duke ordered me to say to you, that he has not been able to sleep...."

"Just my case!..."

"So much the better;--therefore he begs to know whether you would not like to keep him company a little while, and have a little chat ... to cheer each other...."

"Exactly what I should like! Wait till I dress, and I will go with you."

And putting on what garments first came to his hands, he was soon ready. Titta preceded him with a lighted taper, but when they arrived at the Duke's door, drawing aside, and bending low, he said respectfully:

"Walk in, your Excellency!"

Troilo having entered, Titta shut the door, and locked it, putting the key in his pocket; and when the former had entered the next room, he carefully closed that door also, remaining outside.

Troilo on entering the room saw the Duke sitting beside a table near the bed, and, whether it was fancy, or the effect of the fight, he thought he seemed as if grown ten years older since an hour ago. The Duke, without lifting his eyes, said:

"Troilo, sit down."

This voice does not contain a threat, it has nothing of rancor in it, it is peaceful and low,--and yet it does not seem to issue from the lips;--uttered thus from the inmost depth of the heart as from the bottom of a sepulchre, it had the power of infusing a chill through the frame of Troilo.

And Troilo sat down.

"Troilo, I have words to say which it behooves me to speak, and you to listen to them in the shadows of darkness; ... in the mysterious silence of night.... Troilo, after three long years of absence I return home.... But is this to which I have returned my home? Can I sleep safely in it? Can I sit without suspicion at my own table?..."

Troilo, thus taken by surprise, was silent.

"Troilo! When I departed from home, knowing that the woman who was my wife ... who is my wife, was changeable in her fancy, of manners more free and loose than becomes a haughty lady, the fault perhaps of her education ... ready to pass all limits ... somewhat petulant and obstinate ... I hated to confide the treasure of my honor to, I will not say unfaithful, but certainly dangerous hands.--In whom could I better trust than my own blood? I therefore chose you, I intrusted to you my honor, which is also yours, and begged you with tears in my eyes to keep a good and vigilant watch over it.... Do you remember it, Troilo? Is it not true? Would you deny it?... And even if you would, could you?"

"It is true."

"And do you remember the promises which you made then? Have you always remembered them? Now tell me: how have you kept your loyal watch over my wife?"

The Duke kept his arm with closed hand stretched upon the table; the muscles of his forehead were horribly swollen, his eyebrows frowning, and his eyes sparkled under them through the ruffled hair like fire burning in the midst of a thorn bush. Troilo still kept silent; and the Duke said again:

"How have you kept your loyal watch over my wife?"

As there was no reply, he continued:

"If I listen to the reports which reached me even in Rome, indeed my reputation is lost without remedy; my house is full of shame: henceforth I cannot hear the name of my wife spoken without suspecting that it is done through insult or mockery. Virginio will not be able to hear his mother's name without bowing his face for shame. We heard shameful things, cousin, and such at which nature itself would be horrified ... such that no man could possibly bear, and which I neither can, nor know, nor wish, by any means to suffer."

"My Lord!" ... replied Troilo with faltering voice; "could a knight like you, gifted with the best discernment, as all know ... experienced in the world ... give credit to such false accusations ... to the words of idle and malicious men? The people generally repute us happy, and those whom envy gnaws love to hurl poisoned arrows at us. Let us make them weep, they say; thus they will be our equals in tears at last."

"You speak truly; but the shameful report was confirmed by such a person that now I can no longer doubt it."

"And do you believe it worthy of faith?"

"I leave you to judge. Isabella herself confessed it to me."

"What! Isabella?"

"Isabella."

"Your wife?"

"She herself ... my wife. Now tell me, Troilo, ... is not your name Orsini? Is not the blood which runs in your veins of the same race as mine?--Answer!"

"Why reply to what you know yourself?"

"Because it behooves me at this solemn moment to hear it from your own lips, and be assured that you remember it, that you feel convinced of it.... Here I find myself surrounded by traitors,--for with the exception of my own relatives ... I dare not hope to escape being betrayed. You are then of my blood?... Now give me advice ... Isabella!... must I forgive, or kill her?" ...

"And shall I advise you?"

"Yes."

"But neither I nor any one else can believe me capable of that. You have more wisdom than I."

"I do not think so; and even were it so, do you not know that in such occasions man loses his wisdom? Come, I command you to advise me."

"And then ... consider, Giordano, how merciful is the Lord ... and how mild and clement appear those famous men who resemble Him.... Let the weakness of nature, the age of the woman, the bad examples among which she was educated, obtain mercy in your eyes; ... recall to your mind what you said to me a little while ago of her changeable mind, her poetic imagination, the time, the place, the occasion;--and even ... fate, Giordano, since we are all governed by an unconquerable fate--and use mercy ... Isabella can no longer present herself before you in her innocence, you can never love her again ... and perhaps not even esteem her ... and yet there remains a consolation to the injured one, bitter, it is true, but yet desirable, that is, to feel himself undeserving of the insult, and to see the offender truly repentant."

"You see that you do not want wisdom! You certainly do not lack eloquence!... And I thought so! In truth I would follow your advice, but one idea keeps me from it, which is this: in such an affair is my honor only at stake? Ought we not to consider the honor of the family as an entail, which I am not allowed to alienate, and not even diminish, but which I must restore to my children as pure and intact as I received it from my ancestors? Doing otherwise, does it not seem to you that some day I may hear my ancestors say to me:--what have you done with our patrimony?--and my children:--This is not our inheritance?"

"For my own part I believe that it is noble to seek and accomplish a difficult revenge; but it seems to me also a proof of a generous soul to relinquish the revenge that can be executed by merely wishing it. To conquer others is a praiseworthy thing, but to conquer one's own passions is manly and divine."

"And for this reason too would I be almost willing to pardon her; ... only that another motive distresses me, and closes my heart to mercy; and it is the refusal of my wife to reveal the name of her seducer."

"And do you not know it?"

"No.... Do you?"

"I? No."

"So I thought, for you had other things in your mind than watching my wife; and you have committed a great wrong against me and my house, Troilo, a wrong which I know not how to forgive you. But perhaps the fault was not entirely on your side, it was rather in a great measure my own, for I, knowing you to be young, desirous of glory, and of a noble heart, should have allowed you to attend to other things, rather than be the eunuch of a palace."

"And does she then refuse to reveal the name?"

"Neither by prayer, nor threat, nor hope of pardon was I able to induce her to reveal it."

"Indeed this is a grave fault.... And you tried all means to make her speak?"

"All."

"There, you see then how difficult it is to give advice when one is ignorant of all the particulars:--if I had known her obstinacy in this particular before, I would have advised you differently."

"Indeed!"

"Rather the contrary."

"You agree with me then! I am inevitably forced to use severity: would that I knew at least the man who did not scruple to contaminate my house while I was shedding my blood for the Faith ... the man whom neither the respect due to my house ... nay, more than that, the fear of my sword did not deter from this abominable crime!--Ah! I would think myself less unhappy if I could plunge my hands in his blood, and tear forth his heart.... And, believe me, Troilo, I would do it, as true as there is a God ... but the coward hides himself.... Oh, who art thou, who wounded me so mortally, and did not take my life? What is thy name?--Show thyself!--Alas! how painful is the offence done by an obscure, abject, and unknown person, against whom we cannot revenge ourselves, or revenging we may be more stained by the revenge itself than by the insult."

"Indeed such offences deserve an atonement of blood."

"But since I cannot shed that of the hated seducer ... what think you?"

"It seems to me...."

"No ... no faltering," said the Duke rising to his feet; "here it is necessary that you should reveal to me your whole mind."

"Then...."

"Then?... Why do you hesitate? Here no one can overhear us ... no one."

"Then ... the jealous honor of the family requires that ... that Isabella should disappear from the world."

"It is well," replied the Duke; and stretching his hand to the curtains of the bed, he drew them aside, adding:--"Behold ... I have done it."

"Vengeance of God!" cried Troilo, rising and staggering back two or three steps with his hands in his hair.

She who had been Isabella Orsini reclined on the bed in a sitting posture: her hair loose and dishevelled, her arms stretched out, her face black, her eyes open, intent, and almost bursting from their sockets ... a fine rope yet girded her delicate neck, the ends of which were lost in the darkness of the room, and fastened in the ceiling.

Miserable spectacle of crime and perfidy!

"Thus perished Isabella dei Medici, who would have made herself and others happy, if heaven had granted to her either less beauty, or greater virtue, or better parents."[62]

[62] BOTTA, _History of Italy_, book XIV.

The Duke, also as pale as death, repressing with violent effort the passion which agitated his soul, stood immovable in his place where with one hand holding the curtains back, and stretching the other towards his cousin, he thus spoke:

"Now my bed has become deserted ... for every woman will fear that it will be turned into a scaffold;--my house is deserted, for the father cannot live with the son whose mother he has strangled.... Days of sorrow and infamy,--sleepless nights, filled with remorse and fear,--bitter death ... terrible judgement of God,--behold the peace which thou hast given me, Troilo!--Thou, and no one else!--I know thee ... fully ... iniquitous and abject man ... and I feel and know that death must have been less bitter to this woman, who was my wife, than the knowledge of having lost the dignity of a Princess, of a wife and of a mother ... for so miserable and degraded a creature as thou art.--Wretch! The secret died not with thy accomplice ... no ... nor with her murder did I lose the trace of the traitor.--Now it is for thee to die. I could and should abstain from taking thy miserable soul from thy body with this honorable hand of a knight; a villain is enough for a villain;--but as thou wilt suffer a deserved death, I do not wish that thou shouldst complain of the manner of it, if we ever meet again in the next world."

Thus saying, he took two drawn swords, that lay at the feet of the corpse, and throwing one of them on the ground towards Troilo, added:

"Take it up, and defend thyself; and since thou hast lived as a traitor, die at least as a gentleman."

Like a bow bent by a strong hand, that snapping the cord straightens violently, thus Troilo starting up, as if possessed by a demon, gave a leap towards the open window behind him, leaned with both hands upon the seat, and with one leap jumped out of it. As fortune willed, although he fell on his head, he received no injury, on account of the window not being high from the ground. Starting again upon his feet, he rushed precipitately down the staircase.

The Duke, seeing this act, with no less fury rushed after him through the window, sword in hand.

Not a word--not a threat--there was only heard the sound of hurried steps upon the stairs.

Troilo, losing breath, and out of practice in violent exercises, would have easily been overtaken by the Duke, had not the latter, stumbling against a projecting step, fallen headlong down the marble stairs, and bruised himself badly. The sword escaped from his hand, and falling down from step to step, broke the silence of the night with a dreadful clatter, and glided far away into the public road.

Not only was the Duke unable to pursue Troilo further, but he could hardly raise himself again; yet leaning his body upon his elbows fixed in the ground, he turned his head to where Troilo was fast disappearing, and sent after him through the darkness of the night this dreadful menace:

"Since thou hast not desired to die like a knight, many months will not pass before thou shalt die like a dog!"

Titta rushed to the aid of his master: lifted him up, and with loving care washed and bandaged his bruises; then placed him, raving feverishly, upon a bed in the antechamber.

He went afterwards to Lady Lucrezia, who, overcome by the dreadful event, much more so to her as not expected, remained insensible for more than an hour; and as long as she lived never recovered from the shock, nor was she ever seen to smile or rejoice again. Having returned to her senses, Titta placed himself before her, and with his right forefinger pointing in the middle of his eyebrows, proffered very slowly the following words:

"Lady!... Listen attentively!... Our Lady the Duchess died suddenly ... of apoplexy ... whilst she was washing her head with cold water, ... by which accident ... she fell into your arms ... and died before we had time to call for any help.... Be careful, Lady, of mistaking, as you love your life!... The notices to be given, of her death, to the several Courts--already prepared since yesterday--say exactly this. Be then on your guard...."[63]

[63] The notices given to the Courts of Europe contained these words; "that this unhappy Lady, while washing her head with cold water, struck by apoplexy, fell into the arms of her attendants, and died before any assistance could be given her."--GALLUZZI'S _History_.

Titta then removed the body to the apartment belonging to the Duchess, and arranged it upon the bed. Lady Lucrezia sent for Inigo, and told him word for word what Titta had said. The major-domo glancing at the corpse, understood the case too well, and taking with his left hand the hem of the sheet, covered its blackened face, whilst with his right he wiped a tear from his eyes.--Inigo, the major-domo, reputed a heart of stone, wept!

"May God receive in peace the soul of this poor Lady!" said he, and with a deep sigh he left the room.

A great and solemn funeral was performed over the body of Isabella: servants, relatives--her husband and brothers, put on mourning. Over the bier was recited a funeral oration, composed by an academician of the _Crusca_, in classic Tuscan language.

The price of her blood was, in part payment, and in part arrangement of the Duke's debts, and this is narrated by Galluzzi.[64]

[64] "Not only did the Grand-Duke and the Cardinal keep their good relationship with Orsini, but also interested themselves in appeasing his creditors, and gave some system to his embarrassed economy. All this would prove that, either the death of Donna Isabella was not violent, or that the Grand-Duke and his brothers, being in the secret with Orsini, with their dissimulation rendered the crime more detestable."

Settimanni also informs us that the Duke of Bracciano obtained from the munificence of his brother-in-law even a greater reward in the following October, which was the donation of the estate of _Poggio a Baroncelli_, to-day called _Poggio Imperiale_.[65]

[65] Settimanni. MSS. Chronicle.

But God's judgment rewarded to the Duke according to his deserts. He died a horrible death; his soul was contaminated with new crimes, for blood calls for blood, as it is with wine; and that judgment was entailed, so that his descendants also feared it. And if fortune will grant us time and health, the subsequent history of the life of the Duke of Bracciano shall form the subject of another narrative.

The following passage from the History of Galluzzi will inform the reader of the fate of Troilo Orsini.

"The Grand-Duke, determined, however, to sound the opinions of Queen Catherine, sent his Secretary to that Court under the pretext of collecting the balance of the money which he had loaned to king Charles IX., for it was then due. The Secretary's commission extended no further, but liberty had also been given him, to reproach, according to the occasion, the Queen's ill will against the Medici house, and the injury done the Grand-Duke. The Secretary having arrived in Paris, and delivered his commission, the Queen said to him:--_I know not how to satisfy this desire of the Grand-Duke, for he lends to the King of Spain a million of gold at a time, and with us he even demands back such a little sum_.--The Secretary remonstrated that if the King of Spain had been helped with large sums, he had at least shown more esteem for the Grand-Duke than she had done, for she had ill-treated him, and done him an injury which he did not deserve.--_This I confess_, said she, _and I did it because the Grand-Duke has no respect for me, rather with much grief to myself and to the King he has caused the assassination under our own eyes, of Troilo Orsini, and others, which is not right, this Kingdom being free to any one to reside here_.--The Secretary replied, that Orsini and others, having been guilty of grave offences against the Grand-Duke, it was not becoming in her, who was of his own blood, to protect, and aid them with money.--_Enough_, replied the Queen, _write to the Grand-Duke not to continue thus any longer, and particularly not to order any assassination to be committed in this Kingdom, for the King, my son, will not allow it_."

THE END.

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Containing Verses and Miscellaneous Writings of one of the first humorous contributors to "_Knickerbocker Magazine_." With Illustrations. Muslin, price $1 00.

THE AMERICAN CHESS BOOK.

Prepared by PAUL MORPHY, LOUIS PAULSEN, and the chief Members of the late New York Chess Congress for 1857. Muslin, 12mo. Fully illustrated. (_In press_).

THE CAPTIVE NIGHTINGALE,

And other Tales. Translated from the German of KRUMMACHER. A charming book for the Young. Fully illustrated. Muslin, gilt back, &c., price 50 cents.

STORIES FOR CHILDHOOD.

By AUNT HATTY (Mrs. Coleman). Beautifully bound in cloth gilt, and profusely illustrated. Put up in boxes containing 12 assorted volumes. Price per box, $4 00.

GOOD CHILDREN'S LIBRARY.

By UNCLE THOMAS. A dozen charming stories, beautifully illustrated; bound in cloth, gilt backs. Put up in boxes containing 12 assorted volumes. Price per box, $4 00.

HUSBAND _vs._ WIFE.

A Domestic Satirical Novel. By HENRY CLAPP, JR. Illustrated by A. Hoppin, in colors, on cream paper, in Illuminated Missal style. Muslin, price 60 cents.

ASPENWOLD.

An Original Novel, of interest and merit. By an American writer. Illustrated with original designs on wood by Howard. Muslin, price $1 25.

LECTURES OF LOLA MONTEZ,

Including her "Autobiography," "Wits and Women of Paris," "Comic Aspect of Love," "Beautiful Women," "Gallantry," &c. Muslin, steel portrait, price $1 00.

LIFE OF HUGH MILLER,

Author of "Schools and Schoolmasters," "Old Red Sandstone," &c. From the Glasgow edition. Prepared by THOMAS N. BROWN. Muslin, price $1 00.

KNAVES AND FOOLS;

Or, Friends of Bohemia. A Satirical Novel of Literary and Artistic Life in London. By E. M. WHITTY, of the _London Times_. Illustrated. Muslin, price $1 25.

THE COTTAGE COOK BOOK;

Or, Housekeeping made Easy and Economical in all its Departments. A most practical and useful work. By EMILY THORNWELL. Muslin, price 75 cents.

THE CHRISTMAS TREE.

A valuable Book of Amusement and Instruction for the Young, containing Stories upon every subject. Illustrated by KENNY MEADOWS. Muslin, price 75 cents.

EROS AND ANTEROS;

Or, the Bachelor's Ward. One of the very best of Modern Novels. A story of strong interest, and written with true poetic feeling. Muslin, price $1 00.

DOESTICKS' LETTERS.

Being a compilation of the Original Letters of Q. K. P. DOESTICKS, P. B. With many comic tinted illustrations, by John McLenan. Muslin, price $1 00.

PLU-RI-BUS-TAH.

A song that's by-no-author. _Not_ a parody on "Hiawatha." By DOESTICKS. With 150 humorous illustrations by McLenan. Muslin, price $1 00.

THE ELEPHANT CLUB.

An irresistibly droll volume. By DOESTICKS, assisted by KNIGHT RUSS OCKSIDE, M.D. One of his best works. Profusely illustrated by McLenan. Muslin, price $1 00.

NOTHING TO SAY.

A Satire in Verse, which has "Nothing to Do" with "Nothing to Wear." By DOESTICKS, P. B. With Illustrations by McLenan. Muslin, price 50 cents.

THE OLD LOVE AND THE NEW.

A very charming Novel, containing the very elements of success. Written by Mrs. JULIET H. L. CAMPBELL. Handsomely bound in muslin, 12mo., price $1 00.

LIFE OF SPENCER H. CONE.

Being Memoirs of the late Pastor of the First Baptist Church in the city of New York. Prepared by his Sons. Steel Portrait. Muslin, price $1 25.

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Transcriber's note:

Minor inconsistencies of spelling, hyphenation, and punctuation have been made conistent.

Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.