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.