"I am sure that if in your Portugal, M. Francisco, they were to see the beauty of the painting that is in some houses in Italy, they could not be so uncultured as not to esteem it greatly, and wish to attain to it; but it is not surprising that they do not know or appreciate what they have never seen and what they do not possess." Here M. Angelo rose, showing that it was already time for him to retire and go; and likewise the Marchioness rose; I asked her as a favour to invite all that distinguished company for the following day in that same place, and that M. Angelo should not fail to appear. She did so, and he promised that he would come.

And the Marchioness going with the rest, M. Lactancio left with Michael, and I and Diogo Zapata, a Spaniard, went with the Marchioness from the monastery of St. Silvester at Monte Cavallo to the other monastery where there is the head of St. John the Baptist, and where the Marchioness resides, and we left her with the mothers and nuns, and I went to my residence.

SECOND DIALOGUE

All that night I thought of the past day, and was preparing myself for the one to come; but it frequently happens that our arrangements prove uncertain and vain, and very contrary to what we expect, as I then learnt.

On the following day M. Lactancio sent me word that we could not meet as we had arranged, owing to certain business matters which had cropped up both for the Lady Marchioness and likewise for Michael Angelo himself, but he asked me to be at St. Silvester's in eight days' time, as that day had been agreed upon.

I found those eight days long, but finally, when Sunday came, the time appeared to me to have been but short, for I should have liked to have been better armed with knowledge for such a n.o.ble company. When I arrived at St. Silvester the lesson from the Epistles which Friar Ambrose read was finished and he was gone, and they were beginning to complain of my being late and about me.

After they had pardoned me, I having confessed to being a laggard, and after the Marchioness had bantered me a little, and I Messer Angelo in my turn, I obtained permission to proceed with the former conversation about painting; I commenced saying:

"I think, Senhor Michael Angelo, that last Sunday, when we were about to part, you told me that if in the kingdom of Portugal, which you here call Spain, they were to see the n.o.ble pictures of Italy, they would esteem them greatly, for which reason I beg as a favour (for I have come here for nothing else) that you will not disdain to inform me what famous works in painting there are in Italy, so that I may know how many I have already seen, and how many I still have to see."

"You ask me a question which would take long to answer, M. Francisco,"

said M. Angelo, "wide and difficult to put together, for we know that there is no prince or private person or n.o.bleman in Italy, or any one of any pretension, however little curious he may be about painting (to say nothing of those excellent ones who adore it), who does not take steps to have some relic of divine painting, or who at least, in so far as he can, does not order many works to be executed. So that a good portion of the beauty of our art is spread over many n.o.ble cities, castles, country-seats, palaces and temples, and other private and public buildings; but as I have not seen them all in an orderly manner, I can only speak of some which are the princ.i.p.al ones.

"In Siena there is some singular painting in the Munic.i.p.al Chamber and in other places; in Florence, my native place, in the Palaces of the Medici, there is a grotesque by Giovanni da Udine, and so throughout Tuscany. In Urbino, the Palace of the Duke, who was himself half a painter, has a great deal of praiseworthy work, and also in his country-seat called 'Imperial,' near Pesaro, erected by his wife, there is some very magnificent painting. So, too, the Palace of the Duke of Mantua, where Andrea painted the Triumph of Caius Caesar, is n.o.ble; but more so still is the work of the Stable, painted by Julius, a pupil of Raphael, who now flourishes in Mantua. In Ferrara we have the painting of Dosso in the Palace of Castello, and in Padua they also praise the loggia of M. Luis, and the Fortress of Lenhago. Now in Venice there are admirable works by Chevalier t.i.tian, a valiant man in painting and in drawing from nature, in the Library of St. Mark, some in the House of the Germans, and others in churches and in other good hands; and the whole of that city is a good painting.

"So in Pisa, in Lucca, in Bologna, in Piacenza, in Parma, where there is the Parmesano,(189) in Milan, and in Naples. So in Genoa there is the house of Prince Doria, painted by Master Perino, with great judgment, especially the Storm of the Vessels of aeneas, in oils, and the ferocity of Neptune and his sea-horses; and likewise in another room there is a fresco, Jupiter fighting against the giants in Phlegra, overthrowing them with thunderbolts; and nearly the whole city is painted inside and out.

And in many other castles and cities of Italy, such as Orvieto, Esi,(190) Ascoli, and Como, there are pictures n.o.bly painted, and all of great price, for I only speak of such; and if we were to speak of the private paintings and pictures that every one holds dearer than life, it would be to speak of the innumerable, and there are to be found in Italy some cities which are nearly all painted with tolerable painting, inside and out."

It seemed that Michael was coming to a conclusion, when the Lady Marchioness, looking at me, said:

"Do you not remark, M. Francisco, that M. Michael abstained from speaking of Rome, the mother of painting, so as not to talk of his own works? Now what he would not do, let us not fail to do for the purpose of ensnaring him the more, for when one deals with famous paintings, no other has such value as the fount from which they are derived and proceed. And this work is in the head and fount of the Church, I mean in St. Peter's in Rome; a great vault, in fresco, with its circuit and curvatures of arches, and a facade, in which M. Angelo divinely made us understand and divided into histories how G.o.d first created the world, with many images of Sibyls and figures of exceedingly great artistic beauty and artifice. And what is singular is, that doing nothing more than this work, which as yet he has not completed, and having commenced it when a youth, there is therein comprised the work of twenty painters united in that vault alone. Raphael of Urbino painted in this city a second work of such art that it would have been the first if the other had not existed. It is a hall and two chambers and a loggia in fresco, in the palaces of the said St. Peter, a magnificent thing of many elegant stories of a very decorous description.

And the story of Apollo playing his harp amongst the nine muses in the Parnasus is singular. In the house(191) of Augustimguis (Chigi) Raphael has painted very preciously a poetry, the story of Psyche, and very gracefully he surrounded Galatea by mermen in the middle of the waves and by cupids in the air. The picture in S. Pietro in Montorio of the Transfiguration of our Lord,(192) in oils, is very good, and another in Aracli, and in the Temple of Peace, in fresco.(193) The picture in S.

Pietro in Montorio by the hand of Bastiao Veneziano(194) is famous; he did it in compet.i.tion with Raphael. There are many facades of palaces in this city, in white and black,(195) by Baltesar(196) di Siena, architect, and by Marturino and by Polidoro, a man who in that manner of working magnificently enriched Rome. Further, there are here many palaces of Cardinals and other men painted in grotesque and in stucco and with many other varieties of art, for the city is more painted than any other in the whole world, apart from the private pictures that every one holds dearer than life itself. But of the things outside the city, the Vigna, begun by Pope Clement VII., at the foot of Monte Mario, is most worth seeing; it is ornamented by the fine painting and sculpture of Raphael and Julius, where the giant lies sleeping, whose feet the satyrs are measuring with shepherds' crooks. You now see whether these are works which would lead us to be silent about our city."

And she was already ceasing to speak, when I remembered me, and said:

"No doubt your Excellency also forgot the famous tomb or chapel of the Medici in San Lorenzo, at Florence, painted in marble by M. Angelo, with such a generous number of statues in full relief that it can certainly compete with any of the great works of antiquity; where the G.o.ddess or image of Night, sleeping above the nocturnal bird, and the melancholy Death in Life pleased me the most, although there are there many n.o.ble sculptures around the Dawn. But I cannot omit the mention of a painting which I saw, even though it was outside Italy, in France or Provence, in the City of Avignon, in a Franciscan monastery: it is that of a dead woman who had been very beautiful, she was called the Beautiful Anna; a king of France who liked painting and who painted (if I am not mistaken) called Reynel, came to Avignon and inquired whether the Beautiful Anna was there because he greatly desired to see her to paint her from life, and having been told that she had died shortly before, the king caused her to be disinterred to see whether still in her bones there were some traces of her beauty. He found her clothed, in the old style, as if she were alive, with her golden hair dressed on her head, but all the gay beauty of the face, which alone was uncovered, had changed into a skull; notwithstanding this, the painter king considered it so beautiful that he painted her from nature, surrounding his work with verses which mourn and are still mourning for her. Which work I saw in that place and I thought it very worthy."

All were pleased with my picture, and M. Angelo added that in Narbonne I would have also seen the picture St. Sebastian in the Cathedral, and he said:

"In France there is some good painting, and the King of France has many palaces and pleasure houses with innumerable paintings, both in Fontainebleau, where the king kept together two hundred painters, well paid, for a certain time; and in Madrid, the pleasure house which he built, where he voluntarily imprisons himself at times, in memory of Madrid in Spain where he was a prisoner."

"I think," said M. Lactancio, "that I heard a while ago Francisco d'Ollanda name amongst paintings the tomb that you, Senhor Michael, sculptured in marble; but I do not understand how sculpture can be called painting."

Then I began to laugh heartily, and begging permission of the Master, said:

"To save Senhor Michael trouble I will reply to Senhor Lactancio concerning this doubt of his, which has followed me here from my own country.

"As you will find that all the employments which have most art and reasonableness and grace are those which most nearly approach the drawing or painting, so those which most nearly approach it proceed from it and are a part or member of it, such as sculpture or statuary, which is nothing else but painting itself, although it may well appear to some to be a separate art; it is, however, condemned to serve painting, its mistress.

"And this I will give as a sufficient proof (as your Excellencies well know), that in the books we find Phidias and Praxiteles called painters, whilst it is certain that they were sculptors in marble, seeing that the statues from their hands in stone are here near us, on this hill, the horses which they made, which King Teridade sent to Nero as a present, for which reason in recent times this place is called Monte Cavallo. And should this not be enough, I will add how Donatello (who, with the permission of Master Michael, was one of the first modern ones who in sculpture merited fame and name in Italy) never said anything else to his pupils, when teaching them, but draw, telling them in a single word of doctrine: 'Pupils, I give you the whole art of sculpture when I tell you-_draw!_' And so Pomponio Gaurico, sculptor, also affirms in the book he wrote 'De Re Statuaria.' But why do I seek examples and proofs afar, when perchance they are near me? And so as not to speak of myself, I say the great draughtsman, M. Angelo, who is here, also sculptures in marble, which is not his art, and better even (if one may say it) than he paints with the brush on a panel, and he himself has told me sometimes that he finds the sculpture of stone less difficult than the using of colours, and that he deems it to be a very much greater thing to make a masterly stroke with the brush than with the chisel. And even a famous draughtsman, if he so desires, will by himself sculpture and carve in hard marble, in bronze and in silver, exceedingly large statues in full relief (which is a great thing), without ever having taken a chisel in his hand; and this is owing to the great virtue and power of drawing. It does not, therefore, follow that a sculptor will know how to paint or how to hold a brush, nor will he know how to paint and make a stroke like a master, as I learnt a few days ago on going to see Baccio Blandino,(197) the sculptor, whom I found trying to paint in oils and unable to do so. The draughtsman will be a master in building palaces or temples, and will carve statues and will paint pictures; for the said Master Michael and Raphael and Baltesar di Siena,(198) famous painters, taught architecture and sculpture, and Baltesar di Siena, after briefly studying that art, equalled Bramante, a most eminent architect, who pa.s.sed all his life in its discipline, and yet he used to say that it gave him an advantage, for he appreciated the invention, fancy and freedom of drawing. I am speaking of true painters."

"But I say, Senhor Lactancio," said Michael, a.s.sisting M. Francisco, "that the painter of whom he speaks not only will be instructed in liberal arts and other sciences such as architecture and sculpture, which are his own province, but also in all other manual crafts which are practised throughout the world; should he wish, he will do them with more art than the actual masters of them. However that may be, I sometimes set myself thinking and imagining that I find amongst men but one single art or science, and that is drawing or painting, all others being members proceeding therefrom; for if you carefully consider all that is being done in this life you will find that each person is, without knowing it, painting this world, creating and producing new forms and figures here, in dress and the various garbs, in building and occupying s.p.a.ces with painted buildings and houses, in cultivating the fields and ploughing the land into pictures and sketches, in navigating the seas with sails, in fighting and dividing the spoil, and finally in the 'firmamentos' and burials and in all other operations, movements and actions. I leave out all the handicrafts and arts, of which painting is the princ.i.p.al fount, of which some are rivers which spring from it, such as sculpture and architecture; some are brooks, such as mechanical trades; and some are stagnant ponds, which do not flow (such as useless handicrafts like cutting out with scissors and such like), formed from the waters of the flood when drawing overflowed its banks in old time and inundated everything under its dominion and empire, as one sees in the works of the Romans, all done in the manner of painting. In all their painted buildings and fabrics, in all works in gold, silver, or in metals, in all their vases and ornaments, and even in the elegance of their coins, and in their dress and armour, in their triumphs as well as in all their other operations and works, one easily recognises how, in the time when they held sway over all the earth, my lady painting was the universal sovereign and mistress of all their deeds and trades and sciences, extending herself even to writing, and composing or writing histories. So that whosoever well considers and understands human works, will find without doubt that they are all either painting itself or some part of painting; and although the painter be capable of inventing what has not as yet been found, and of doing all the handicrafts of the others with much more grace and elegance than their own professors, yet no one but he can be a true painter or draughtsman."

"I am satisfied," answered Lactancio, "and understand better the great power of painting, which, as you stated, is seen in all things of the ancients and even in writing and composing. And perhaps notwithstanding your great imagination you will not have been as much struck as I have been with the conformity which letters have with painting (for you will certainly hold letters to be a part of painting); nor by how these two sciences are such legitimate sisters that, if one be separated from the other, neither is perfect, although it seems that these present times keep them in some way separated. But yet every learned and consummate man will find that in all his works he is always exercising to a great extent the office of a good painter, painting and colouring some intention of his with much care and devotion. Now in opening the old books, the famous ones are few which are not like painting; and it is certain that those which are the heaviest and most confused are so for no other reason but because the writers are not good draughtsmen and are not very skilful in drawing and dividing up their work; and the most facile and terse are those of the best draughtsman. And even Quintilian in the perfection of his _Rhetoric_ lays it down that not only in the division of the words his orator should draw, but that with his own hand he should know how to sketch and draw; and hence it is, Senhor M. Angelo, that you may at times call a great man of letters or a great preacher a good painter; and a great draughtsman you may call a man of letters, and whosoever most penetrates into real antiquity will find that painting and sculpture were both called painting, and that in the time of Demosthenes they called _writing_ 'antigraphia,'

which means _drawing_, and it was a word common to both these sciences, and that the writings of Agatharco can be called the painting of Agatharco. And I think that the Egyptians also-all of them who had to write or express anything-were accustomed to know how to paint, and even their hieroglyphic signs were painted animals and birds, as is shown by some obelisks in this city which came from Egypt. But if I speak of poetry, it seems to me that it will not be very difficult for me to show how true a sister she is to painting. But so that Senhor Francisco may know how much necessity he has for poetry, and how much he may gain from the best of it, I will show him here how much care the poets take (although this is matter for a young man rather than for me) of their profession and intelligence, and how much they praise and celebrate their art as being free from penalties and blots; and it does not seem that the poets worked for anything except to teach the beauties of painting, and what ought to be avoided or done in it, with all their suavity and music of verses, and with so many just and fluent words that I do not know how I can repay them. Now one of the things in which they put the most study and work (I speak of the famous poets) is in painting well or in imitating a good painting; and this is due to the accuracy which, with the greatest promptness and care, they desire to express and attain. And the one who can attain this is the one who is the most excellent and clear. I remember that the prince of them, Virgil, threw himself down to sleep at the foot of a beech-tree, and how he has painted in words the forms of two vases that Alcimedon had made in a cavern covered with a wild vine, with some goats chewing willows, and some blue hills smoking in the distance; then he remains resting on one hand the whole day, to study how many winds and clouds he will put into the Tempest of aeolus, and how he will paint the Port of Carthage in a bay, with an island standing apart, and with how many rocks and woods he will surround it. Afterwards he paints Troy burning; then some feasts in Sicily, and beyond near c.u.mas the gate of h.e.l.l with a thousand monsters, and chimeras, and many souls pa.s.sing Acheron; then the Elysian Fields, the host of the Blest, the pains and torments of the Impious, and afterwards the Arms of Vulcan, a fine piece of work; shortly afterwards a painted Amazon, and the ferocity of capless Turnus. He paints the routs in battle, the many dead, the fates of n.o.ble men, the many spoils and trophies. Read the whole of Virgil and you will not find in it anything but the handicraft of a Michael Angelo. Lucan employs a hundred pages in painting an enchantress and the breaking up of a fine battle. Ovid is nothing else but a 'retavolo' (copyist). Statius paints the house of sleep and the walls of great Thebes. The poet Lucretius likewise paints, and Tibullus and Catullus and Propertius. One paints a fountain, and a wood close by, with Pan, the shepherd, playing a flute amongst the ewes. Another paints a shrine with nymphs around dancing. Another draws the drunken Bacchus, surrounded by wild women, with old Silenus, half falling from an a.s.s, who would have fallen were he not held up by a satyr who carries a leathern bottle. Even the satirical poet paints the picture of the labyrinth. Now what do the lyric poets do, or the wits of Martial, or the tragic or comic ones? What do they do but paint reasonably? And what I say I do not invent, for each one of them himself confesses that he paints: they called painting dumb poetry."

At this point I said: "Senhor Lactancio, in calling painting _dumb_ poetry it seems to me that the poets did not know how to paint well, because, if they understood how much more painting declares and speaks than poetry, her sister, they would not say it was dumb, and I will maintain rather that poetry is the more dumb."

The Marchioness said: "How will you prove, Spaniard, what you say? how will you prove that painting is not dumb and that poetry is? Let us hear, for in no more worthy discourse could this day be spent, hearing what you maintain on that subject; afterwards it may be possible to bring this company together again, in another place."

"How can your Excellency wish," I answered, "that I should dare to do so at once, and how should I be able to interest this company with my little knowledge, especially as I am a pupil of the lady who is dumb and has no tongue? Particularly, too, as it is already late, if the light through these windows does not deceive me; how can you order me to praise my innamorata before her own husband and in such an honourable court of those who know her worth? If there were some powerful adversaries here I might attempt it, although in this I am wrong, for it would be much easier to vanquish enemies than to please these friends. But if your Excellency desires so much to see me put to silence I will speak, not as an enemy of poetry, for I am much indebted to her, and I owe her much in the virtue of my profession, and in the perfection which I so much desire, but to defend the other lady, who is still more mine, for whose sake only I rejoice to live, and for whom I confess I have a voice and speak, she being dumb, solely because I one day saw her move her eyes; and as she teaches one to speak by her eyes, what would she do if she were to move her wise lips?

Good poets (as Senhor Lactancio said) do not do more with words than even mediocre painters do with their works, for the former recount what the latter express and declare. They with fastidious meanings do not always engage one's ears, whilst the latter satisfy one's eyes, as with some beautiful spectacle they hold all men prisoners and entranced; and the pa.s.sage over which good poets most trouble themselves, and which they hold as the greatest finesse, is to show you in words (perchance too many and too long), as if painting a storm on the sea, or the burning of a city, which storm, if they were able, they would rather paint, for when you finish the work of reading, you have already forgotten the commencement, and you have only present the short verse on which your eyes were last fixed; and the one who shows you this best is the best poet.

"Now, how much more does painting say which shows you that storm altogether with the thunder, lightning, waves, vessels, and reefs, and you see: _omniaque viris ostentant praesentem mortem_, and in the same place: _ex-templo Aeneas tendens ad sidera palmas_ and _tres Eurus abreptas in saxa latentia torquet emissamque hyemem sensit Neptunus et imis_, and likewise it shows very present and visibly all the burning of the city, in every part, represented and seen as if it were really true; on one side those who run through the streets and squares, on the other those who jump from the walls and towers; here the temples half demolished and the reflection of the flames in the rivers, and the surrounded sh.o.r.es illuminated; how Pantheus as he runs away limping with his idols, leading his grandchild by the hand; how the Trojan horse gives birth in the centre of a great square to armed men; how Neptune, very wrath, throws down the walls; how Pyrrhus beheads Priam; aeneas with his father on his shoulders, and Ascanius and Creusa who follow him in the darkness of night, full of fear; and all this so present and so connected and natural that very often you are moved to think that you are not safe before it, and you are glad to know they are only colours and that they cannot inspire or do harm. It does not show you this spread out in words, whilst you remember only the part which is before your eyes having already forgotten the past and not knowing the future, and which verses only the ears of a grammarian can understand with difficulty, but one's eyes visibly enjoy that spectacle as being true, and one's ears seem to hear the actual cries and clamour of the painted figures; it seems as if you smell the smoke, you fly from the flames, you fear the fall of the buildings; you are ready to give a hand to those who are falling, you defend those who are fighting against numbers; you run away with those who run away and stand firm with the courageous. Not only the learned are satisfied, but also the simple, the countryman, the old woman; not only these, but also the Sarmatian stranger, the Indian, and the Persian (who never understood the verses of Virgil, or Homer, which are dumb to them), delight themselves with and understand that work with great pleasure and quickness; the barbarian ceases to be barbarian, and understands, by virtue of the eloquent painting, that which no poetry or numbered feet could teach him. And the law of painting says: _in ipsa legunt qui literas nesciunt_, and further on says: _pro lectione pictura est_. When Cebes, a Theban, wished to write an opinion of his for a law of human life, he simulated and painted it on a 'panel,' as he thought that he would express it better thus, and that it would be more n.o.ble and more easily understood by all men; he then desired more to know how to paint, in order to speak, than how to write. But even, if after all this, poetry still affirms that a Venus painted at the feet of a Jupiter does not speak, nor Turnus painted, showing his valour before King Latinus, even this reason cannot render learned painting dumb so that she does not speak, and show in all things that she is in this also the first, or perhaps the companion, of my lady poetry. For the great painter will paint Venus weeping at the feet of Jupiter, with all the following advantages, which the poet will not have: the first one is that he paints heaven where it is supposed to be, and the person, dress, and action or movement of Jupiter and his eagle with the thunderbolt; and he will paint fully the luxurious beauty of Venus, and her robe of gauzy raiment with all her graceful movements, so elegant and light and with such skill that, although she may not speak with her mouth, yet it appears from her eyes, hands, and mouth that she is really speaking (nor do you hear the soft and sweet speech of Venus, when a croaking school-master reads the words and sayings of Venus). She appears to be uttering all those pious sayings and complaints which Virgil Maro writes concerning her. And also the great painter will make even King Latinus more copious in his work and the Councillors of the Laurentes more defined, clearer, some with perturbed face, and others more collected and quiet, different in appearance and physiognomy and age, different in movements, which the poet cannot do without too much prolixity and confusion. And even then he will not do it; and the painter will do it so that it may be seen with greater pleasure and move the spectator more, and likewise he will place before your eyes the brave image of Turnus, boastful and furious with the coward Drances, that it seems as if you fear him yourself and that he is saying: _Larga quidem semper, Drance, tibi copia fandi_. Therefore I with my small talent, as a pupil of a mistress without a tongue, still deem the power of painting to be greater than that of poetry in making greater effects and in having more force and vehemence whether to move mind and soul to joy and laughter, or to sorrow and tears, with more effective eloquence. But let the muse Calliope be the judge in this matter, for I will be content with her judgment."

And having said that I ceased. The Marchioness honoured me in bantering terms thus:

"You, Senhor Francisco, have done so well for your innamorata, painting, that, if Master Michael does not show just as great a sign of love for her, we may perhaps get her to divorce him and go with you to Portugal."

And, smiling, Michael said: "He knows, Madam, that I have already done so, and that I have already released her entirely to him; for as I do not possess such powers as such great love demands, he has said what he has said, as of one who belongs to him."

"I confess," said I, "Madam, that he has released her to me, but she does not wish to go with me, so that she still remains at home with him; neither would I, although she is so worthy, like to see her come to my country, for there are but few there who know how to esteem her, and my most serene king, unless it were in his unoccupied moments, would not favour her, especially if there happened to be any unrest through war, in which she is of no use; and so she would become angry and perhaps in a fit of temper she would one day throw herself into the ocean, which is hard by, and cause me to sing many times the verse:

Audieras: et fama fuit; sed opera tantum nostra valent, Lycida, tela inter maria, quantum chaonias dic.u.n.t aquila veniente columbas.

But if she were of use in time of war, I would desire her to come at once."

"I quite understand," said the Marchioness, "but as now the day is far spent, let your question be for next Sunday." And as she said this she rose, and all of us with her, and we went away.

THIRD DIALOGUE

Not only were we unable to meet together on the following Sunday with the Marchioness and M. Angelo, but even on the next one, eight days later, we were almost prevented, and indeed did not wish to meet, because at that time was being celebrated in the city of Rome the feast of the twelve triumphal cars in the Camp Nagao(199) in the ancient manner. Starting from the Capitol with such magnificence and ancient pomp that it seemed as if one were back in the old times of the Emperors and the triumphs of the Romans. This feast was celebrated on the occasion of the marriage(200) of Senhor Ottavio,(201) son of Pedro Luiz, and grand-nephew of our Lord Pope Paul III., to Senhora Margarida,(202) adopted daughter of the Emperor. She had been a short time previously the wife of Alessandro de Medici, Duke of Florence, who was killed through treason in Florence. And now, she being a widow and very young and beautiful, his Holiness and his Majesty married her to Senhor Ottavio, a very young and estimable man, consequently the city and the Court feasted them as much as could be at night with serenades and banquets, and the whole of Rome ablaze with lights and illuminations, especially the Castle of St. Angelo, and every day feasts and great expenditure. Such as the feast of Monte Trestacho, with its twenty bulls attached to twenty carts, killed as a public spectacle in the square of St. Peter's; and the race which was run between buffaloes and horses along the entire Via di Nostra Signora Transpontina to the square of the said palace. And also those festivals which I have mentioned of the twelve triumphal cars, gilded and ornamented with many fine figures and very n.o.ble devices; there were Romans and the heads of the districts of Rome, dressed in the old style, with all the pomp and pride that could be desired; one hundred sons of citizens on horseback, so brave and so bizarre in their gallantry of painted antiquity, that in comparison with them the velvet mantles and plumes and the infinity of novelties and costumes in which Italy exceeds every other province of Europe, appeared very ordinary. But when I had seen this n.o.ble phalanx and company descending from the Capitol with many infantry, and had viewed all the bravery of the cars and the ediles, dressed in the old fashion, and had seen Senhor Giulio Cesarino pa.s.s with the standard of the city of Rome, on a horse with trappings covered with a white coat of arms and black brocade, I at once turned my horse towards Monte Cavallo, and thus went riding along the Thermae road pondering over many things of the olden times, in which I then felt myself to be more than in the present.

Then I ordered my servant to go without fail to St. Silvester and learn whether perchance the Marchioness or Senhor M. Angelo happened to be there. The servant was not long in returning, telling me that Senhor M.

Angelo and Senhor Lactancio and Brother Ambrose were all together in the friar's cell, which was itself in St. Silvester, but that no mention whatever had been made of the Marchioness. I went on towards St.

Silvester, but the truth is that I intended to pa.s.s before it and to return to the city, when I saw coming a certain capata, a great servitor of the Marchioness, and a very honourable person and my friend. I being on horseback and he on foot, I was obliged to dismount; and he having told me that he had been sent by the Marchioness, we went into St. Silvester. As we were entering Senh.o.r.es, M. Angelo and M. Lactancio were coming out by way of the garden or court, in order to take their siesta under the trees by the running water.

"Oh! welcome," said Senhor Lactancio, "both of you; you could not arrive at a better moment; you have been very wise to fly from the confusion in the city and take shelter in this quiet haven."

"That is all very well," we said, "but this flattery does not console us, nor is it sufficient to compensate us for the loss of the absent one."

"He said that for the Marchioness," said Senhor Michael, "and you are so far right, that if you had not come this instant I might have gone."

Conversing thus we sat down on a stone bench in the garden at the foot of some laurels, on which there was room for all of us, and we were very comfortable, leaning back against the green ivy which covered the wall, and from there we could see a good part of the city, very graceful and full of ancient majesty.

"Let us not lose everything," said Senhor capata, after making excuses for the Marchioness; "let us get some profit out of such a goodly a.s.sembly as we have here; please continue the same n.o.ble discussion which you held a few days ago, on the most n.o.ble art of painting, seeing that the Marchioness very reluctantly commissioned me to that end, for she herself would have liked to be present. But you must know that she sent me here to report to her everything stored in my memory, to relate to her everything treated of, without losing a single point. And therefore we are bound, gentlemen, I to hear and to be silent about what I do not understand, and you to give me something to remember and report."