*CHAPTER VI.*
Some few days after the conversation at the Cardinal's villa, Inglesantreceived his first commission as an agent of the Society of the Gesu.He was invited to sup with the Superior of the English Jesuits, FatherStafford, at the college called St. Thomasso degli Inglesi. After themeal, over which nothing was spared to render it delicious, and duringthe course of which the Superior exerted himself to please, the lattersaid,--
"I am instructed to offer you a commission, which, if I mistake not,will both prove very interesting to you, and will also be of advantageto your interests. You are probably acquainted with the story of theold Duke of Umbria. You have heard that, wearied with age, and tired ofthe world, he resigned the dukedom to his son, his only child, theobject of all his hopes and the fruit of careful training andinstruction. This son, far from realizing the brilliant hopes of hisfather, indulged in every kind of riot and debauchery, and finally diedyoung, worn out before his time. The old Duke, broken-hearted by thisblow, has virtually made over the succession to the Holy Father, andlives now, alone and silent in his magnificent palace, caring for noworldly thing, and devoting all his thoughts to religion and to hisapproaching end. He is unhappy in the prospect of his dissolution, andthe only persons who are admitted to his presence are those who promisehim any comfort in the anticipation, or any clearness in the vision, ofthe future life. Quacks and impostors of every kind, priests and monksand fanatics, are admitted freely, and trouble this miserable old man,and drive him into intolerable despair. To give to this old man, whoselife of probity, of honour, of devotion to his people, of conscientiousrectitude, is thus miserably rewarded--to give some comfort to thismiserable victim of a jealousy which the superstitious miscall that ofheaven, is a mission which the ethereal chivalry of the soul willeagerly embrace. It is one, I may say without flattery, for which Ihold you singularly fitted. A passionate religious fervour, such asyours, combined in the most singular manner with the freest speculativeopinions, and commended by a courteous grace, will at once soothe andstrengthen this old man's shattered intellect, distracted and tormentedand rapidly sinking into imbecility and dotage."
Father Stafford paused and filled his glass; then passing the wine toInglesant, he continued, half carelessly,--
"I said that the Duke had virtually made over the succession of hisState to the Papal See; but this has not been formally ratified, andthere has arisen some hesitation and difficulty respecting it. Some ofthe unsuitable advisers to whom the Duke in his mental weakness hasunfortunately lent an ear, have endeavoured to persuade him that theinterests of his people will be imperilled by their country being placedunder the mild and beneficent rule of the Holy Father. We hearsomething of a Lutheran, who, by some unexplained means, has obtainedconsiderable influence with this unhappy old man; and we are informedthat there is great danger of the Duke's hesitating so long before hecompletes the act of succession, that his death may occur before it iscomplete. You will of course exert the influence which I hope andexpect that you will soon gain at the ducal Court, to hasten thisconsummation, so desirable for the interests of the people, of thePapacy, and of the Duke himself."
Inglesant had listened to this communication with great interest. Theprospect which the earlier part of it had opened before him was in manyrespects an attractive one, and the flattering words of the Superiorwere uttered in a tone of sincerity which made them very pleasant tohear. The description of the Duke's condition offered to himopportunities of mental study of absorbing interest, and the charactersof those by whom he was surrounded would no doubt present combinationsand varieties of singular and unusual curiosity. It must not be denied,moreover, that there entered into his estimate of the proposal made tohim somewhat of the prospect of luxurious and courtly life--of that softclothing, both of body and spirit, which they who live in kings' houseswear. It is difficult indeed for one who has been long accustomed torefined and dainty living, where every sense is trained and strengthenedby the fruition it enjoys, to regard the future altogether withindifference in respect to these things. The palace of the Duke wasnotorious throughout all Italy for the treasures of art which itcontained, though its master in his old age was become indifferent tosuch delights. But though these thoughts passed through his mind as theSuperior was speaking, Inglesant was too well versed in the ways ofCourts and Ecclesiastics not to know that there was something more tocome, and to attend carefully for its development. The latter part ofthe Superior's speech produced something even of a pleasurableamusement, as the skilfully executed tactics of an opponent are pleasingto a good player either at cards or chess. The part which he was nowexpected to play, the side which he was about to espouse, taken inconnection with the difficulties and impressions which had perplexed himsince he had arrived in Italy, and which had not been removed by what hehad seen in Rome itself, corresponded so exactly with the scheme which,to his excited imagination, was being spiritually developed for hisdestruction--a morbid idea, possibly, which the lofty beneficence ofMolinos's doctrine had only partially removed--that its appearance andrecognition actually provoked a smile. But the smile, which theSuperior noticed and entirely misunderstood, was succeeded by uneasinessand depression. There was, however, little hesitation and no apparentdelay in Inglesant's manner of acceptance. The old habit of implicitobedience was far from obliterated or even weakened, and though FatherSt. Clare was not present the supreme motive of his influence was notunfelt. He had chosen his part when in Paris he had turned his backupon De Cressy, and accepted the Jesuit's offer of the mission to Rome.He had lived in Rome, had been received and countenanced and entertainedas one who had accepted the service of those who had so courteously andhospitably treated him, and it was far too late now, when the firstreturn was expected of him, to draw back or to refuse. To obey was notonly a recognized duty, it was an instinct which not only long trainingbut experience even served to strengthen. He assured the Superior thathe was perfectly ready to set out. He assured himself indeed that it wasnot necessary to come to a decision at that moment, and that he shouldbe much better able to decide upon his course of conduct when he hadseen the Duke himself, and received more full instructions from Rome.
The Superior informed Inglesant that he would be expected to visitUmbria as a gentleman of station, and offered to provide the necessarymeans. Inglesant contented himself with declining this offer for thepresent. Since his arrival at Rome he had received considerable sums ofmoney from England, the result of Lady Cardiff's bounty, and theCardinal's purse was open to him in several indirect ways. He providedhimself with the necessary number of servants, horses, and otherconveniences, and some time, as would appear, after Easter, he arrivedat Umbria.
On his journey, as he rode along in the wonderful clear morning light,in his "osteria" in the middle of the day, and when he resumed hisjourney in the cool of the evening, his thoughts had been very busy. Heremembered his conversation with the Count Vespiriani, and was unable toreconcile his present mission with the pledge he had given to the Count.He was more than once inclined to turn back and refuse to undertake theduty demanded of him. Thoughts of Lauretta, and of the strange fatethat had separated him from her, also occupied his mind; and with theseconflicting emotions still unreconciled, he saw at last the white facadeof the palace towering above the orange groves, and the houses andpinnacles of the city.
The ducal palace at Umbria is a magnificent example of the Renaissancestyle. It is impossible to dwell in or near this wonderful housewithout the life becoming affected, and even diverted from its previouscourse, by its imperious influence. The cold and mysterious power of theclassic architecture is wedded to the rich and libertine fancy of theRenaissance, treading unrestrained and unabashed the maze of nature andof phantasy, and covering the classic purity of outline with itsexquisite tracery of fairy life. Over door and window and pilasterthrong and cling the arabesque carvings of foliage and fruit, ofgraceful figures in fantastic forms and positions,--all of infin
itevariety; all full of originality, of life, of motion, and of character;all of exquisite beauty both of design and workmanship. The effect ofthe whole is lightness and joy, while the eye is charmed and the sensefilled with a luxurious satisfaction at the abounding wealth of beautyand lavish imagination. But together with this delight to eye and sensethere is present to the mind a feeling, not altogether painless, ofoppressive luxury, and of the mating of incongruous forms, arousing asit were an uneasy conscience, and affecting the soul somewhat as theoverpowering perfume of tropical vegetation affects the senses. Todwell in this palace was to breathe an enchanted air; and as thewandering prince of story loses his valour and strength in the magiccastles into which he strays, so here the indweller, whose intellect wasmastered by the genius of the architecture, found his simplicityimpaired, his taste becoming more sensuous and less severely chaste, andhis senses lulled and charmed by the insidious and enervating spiritthat pervaded the place.
At his first presentation Inglesant found the Duke seated in a smallroom fitted as an oratory or closet, and opening by a private door intothe ducal pew in the Chapel. His person was bowed and withered by ageand grief, but his eye was clear and piercing, and his intellectapparently unimpaired. He regarded his visitor with an intense andscrutinizing gaze, which lasted for several minutes, and seemed toindicate some suspicion. There was, however, about Inglesant'sappearance and manner something so winning and attractive, that the oldman's eyes gradually softened, and the expression of distrust that madehis look almost that of a wild and hunted creature, changed to one ofcomparative satisfaction and repose. It is true that he regarded withpleasure and hope every new-comer, from whom he expected to deriveconsolation and advice.
Inglesant expected that he would inquire of the news of Rome, of thePope's health, and such-like matters; but he seemed to have no curiosityconcerning such things. After waiting for some time in silence hesaid,--
"Anthony Guevera tells us that we ought to address men who are underthirty with 'You are welcome,' or 'You come in a good hour,' because atthat time of life they seem to be coming into the world; from thirty tofifty we ought to greet them with 'God keep you,' or 'Stand in a goodhour;' and from fifty onwards, with 'God speed you,' or 'Go in a goodhour,' for from thence they go taking their leave of the world. Thefirst is easy to say, and the wish not unlikely to be fulfilled, but thelast who shall ensure? You come in a good hour, graceful as an Apollo,to comfort a miserable old man; can you assure me that, when I pass outof this world, I shall depart likewise at a propitious time? I am anold man, and that unseen world which should be so familiar and near tome seems so far off and yet so terrible. A young man steps into life asinto a dance, confident of his welcome, pleased himself and pleasingothers; the stage to which he comes is bright with flowers, soft musicsounds on every side. So ought the old man to enter into the new life,confident of his welcome, pleasing to his Maker and his God, theheavenly minstrelsy in his ears. But it is far otherwise with me. Imay lay me down in the 'Angelica Vestis,' the monkish garment thatensures the prayers of holy men for the departing soul; but who willsecure me the wedding garment that ensures admission to the banquetabove?"
"Do you find no comfort in the Blessed Sacrament, Altezza?" saidInglesant.
"Sometimes I may fancy so; but I cannot see the figure of the Christ forthe hell that lies between."
"Ah! Altezza," said Inglesant, his eyes full of pity, not only for theold Duke, but for himself and all mankind, "it is always thus.Something stands between us and the heavenly life. My temptation isother than yours. Communion after communion I find Christ, and He isgracious to me--gracious as the love of God Himself; but month aftermonth and year after year I find not how to follow Him, and when theroad is opened to me I am deaf, and refuse to answer to the heavenlycall. You, Altezza, are in more hopeful case than I; for it seems to methat your Highness has but to throw off that blasphemous superstitionwhich is found in all Christian creeds alike, which has not feared toblacken even the shining gates of heaven with the smoke of hell."
"All creeds are alike," said the Duke with a shudder, "but mostly yournorthern religions, harsh and bitter as your skies. I have heard from aLutheran a system of religion that made my blood run cold, the more asit commends itself to my calmer reason."
"And that is, Altezza?" said Inglesant.
"This, that so far from the Sacrament of Absolution upon earth, or atthe hour of death, availing anything, God Himself has no power to changethe state of those who die without being entirely purified from everytrace of earthly and sensual passion; to such as these, though otherwisesincere Christians, nothing awaits but a long course of suffering in thedesolate regions of Hades, as the Lutheran calls it, until, if so maybe, the earthly idea is annihilated and totally obliterated from theheart."
"This seems little different from the doctrine of the Church," saidInglesant.
"It is different in this most important part," replied the Duke, "thatHoly Church purifies and pardons her penitent, though he feels thepassions of earth strong within him till the last; but by this systemyou must eradicate these yourself. You must purify your heart, you mustfeel every carnal lust, every vindictive thought, every lofty andcontemptuous notion, utterly dead within you before you can enjoy amoment's expectation of future peace. He that goes out of this worldwith an uncharitable thought against his neighbour does so with thechances against him that he is lost for ever, for his face is turnedfrom the light, and he enters at once upon the devious and downwardwalks of the future life; and what ground has he to expect that he whocould not keep his steps in this life will find any to turn him back, orwill have power to turn himself back, from every growing evil in theworld to come?"
As the Duke spoke it seemed to Inglesant that these words were addressedto him alone, and that he saw before him the snare of the Devil, batedwith the murderer of his brother, stretched before his heedless feet forhis eternal destruction.
The Duke took up a book that lay by him, and read,--
"The soul that cherishes the slightest animosity, and takes this feelinginto eternity, cannot be happy, though in other respects pious andfaithful. Bitterness is completely opposed to the nature andconstitution of heaven. The blood of Christ, who on the cross, in themidst of the most excruciating torments, exercised love instead ofbitterness, cleanses from this sin also, when it flows in our veins."
"I see nothing in this, Altezza," said Inglesant eagerly, "but what isin accordance with the doctrines of the Church. This is that idea ofsacramental purification, that Christ's Body being assimilated to ourspurifies and sanctifies. His Body, being exalted at that supreme momentand effort (the moment of His suffering death), to the highest purity oftemper and of sweetness by the perfect love and holiness which pervadedHis spirit, has been able ever since, in all ages, through the mysteryof the Blessed Sacrament, to convert all its worthy recipients in somedegree to the same pure and holy state. Many things which men considermisfortunes and painful experiences are in fact but the force of thisdivine influence, assimilating their hearts to His, and attemperingtheir bodies to the lofty purity of His own. This is the master work ofthe Devil, that he should lure us into states of mind, as the book says,of bitterness and of violence, by which this divine sweetness istainted, and this peace broken by suspicion, by hatred, and heat ofblood."
"The book says somewhere," said the Duke, turning over the leaves,"that, as the penitent thief rose from the cross to Paradise, so we, ifwe long after Christ with all the powers of our souls, shall, at thehour of death, rapidly soar aloft from our mortal remains, and then allfear of returning to earth and earthly desires will be at an end."
"It must surely," said Inglesant after a pause, speaking more to himselfthan to the Duke, "be among the things most surprising to an angelicnature that observes mankind, that, shadows ourselves, standing upon theconfines even of this shadowy land, and not knowing what, if aught,awaits us elsewhere, hatred or revenge or unkindness should be among thelast passions that are over
come. When the veil is lifted, and we seethings as they really are, nothing will so much amaze us as theblindness and perversity that marked our life among our fellow-men.Surely the lofty life is hard, as it seems hard to your Grace; but thevery effort itself is gain."
Inglesant left the presence of the Duke after his first interviewimpressed and softened, but troubled in his mind more than ever at thenature of the mission on which he was sent. Now that he had seen theDuke, and had been touched by his eager questions, and by the earnestsearching look in the worn face, his conscience smote him at the thoughtof abusing his confidence, and of persuading him to adopt a course whichInglesant's own heart warned him might not in the end be conduciveeither to his own peace or to the welfare of his people, whose happinesshe sincerely sought. He found that, in the antechambers and receptionrooms of the palace, and even at the Duke's own table, the principalsubject of conversation was the expected cession of the dukedom to thePapal See; and that emissaries from Rome had preceded him, and hadevidently received instructions announcing his arrival, and wereprepared to welcome him as an important ally. On the other hand, therewere not wanting those who openly or covertly opposed the cession, someof whom were said to be agents of the Grand Duke of Florence, who washeir to the Duchy of Umbria through his wife. These latter, whoseopposition was more secret than open, sought every opportunity ofwinning Inglesant to their party, employing the usual arguments withwhich, since his coming into Italy, he had been so familiar. Many dayspassed in this manner, and Inglesant had repeated conferences with theDuke, during which he made great progress in his favour, and was himselfwon by his lofty, kindly, and trustful character.
He had resided at Umbria a little less than a month, when he receivedinstructions by a courier from Rome, by which he was informed that atthe approaching festival of the Ascension a determined effort was to bemade by the agents and friends of the Pope to bring the business to aconclusion. The Duke had promised to keep this festival, which iscelebrated at Venice and in other parts of Italy with great solemnity,with unusual magnificence; and it was hoped that while his feelings wereinfluenced and his religious instincts excited by the solemn and tenderthoughts and imaginations which gather round the figure of the ascendingSon of man, he might be induced to sign the deed of cession. Hithertothe Duke had not mentioned the subject to Inglesant, having found hisconversation upon questions of the spiritual life and practicesufficient to occupy the time; but it was not probable that this silencewould continue much longer, and on the first day in Ascension weekInglesant was attending Vespers at one of the Churches in the town inconsiderable anxiety and trouble of mind.
The sun had hardly set, and the fete in the garden was not yet begun,when, Vespers being over, he came out upon the river-side lined withstately houses which fronted the palace gardens towering in terracedwalks and trellises of green hedges on the opposite bank. The sun,setting behind the wooded slopes, flooded this green hill-side with softand dream-like light, and bathed the carved marble facade of the palace,rising above it with a rosy glimmer, in which the statues on its roof,and the fretted work of its balustrades, rested against the darkeningblue of the evening sky. A reflex light, ethereal and wonderful, comingfrom the sky behind him, and the marble buildings and towers on whichthe sun's rays rested more fully than they did upon the palace, broodedover the river and the bridge with its rows of angelic forms, and,climbing the leafy slopes, as if to contrast its softer splendour withthe light above, transfigured with colour the wreaths of vapour whichrose from the river and hung about its wharves.
The people were already crowding out of the city, and forcing their wayacross the bridge towards the palace, where the illuminations and thecurious waterworks, upon which the young Duke had, during his shortreign, expended much money, were to be exhibited as soon as the eveningwas sufficiently dark. The people were noisy and jostling, but as usualgood-tempered and easily pleased. Few masques or masquerade dresses hadappeared as yet, but almost every one was armed with a small trumpet, adrum, or a Samarcand cane, from which to shoot peas or comfits. At thecorner of the main street that opened on to the quay, however, somedisturbing cause was evidently at work. The crowd was perplexed by twocontending currents, the one consisting of those who were attempting toturn into the street from the wharf, in order to learn the cause of theconfusion, the other, of those who were apparently being driven forciblyout of the street, towards the wharves and the bridge, by pressure frombehind. Discordant cries and exclamations of anger and contempt roseabove the struggling mass. Taking advantage of the current that swepthim onward, Inglesant reached the steps of the Church of St. Felix,which stood at the corner of the two streets, immediately opposite thebridge and the ducal lions which flanked the approach. On reaching thiscommanding situation the cause of the tumult presented itself in theform of a small group of men, who were apparently dragging a prisonerwith them, and had at this moment reached the corner of the wharf, notfar from the steps of the Church, surrounded and urged on by a leaping,shouting, and excited crowd. Seen from the top of the broad marblebases that flanked the steps, the whole of the wide space, formed by theconfluence of the streets, and over which the shadows were rapidlydarkening, presented nothing but a sea of agitated and tossing heads,while, from the windows, the bridge, and even the distant marbleterraced steps that led up to the palace, the crowd appeared curious,and conscious that something unusual was in progress.
From the cries and aspect of the crowd, and of the men who dragged theirprisoner along, it was evident that it was the intention of the peopleto throw the wretched man over the parapets of the bridge into the riverbelow, and that to frustrate this intention not a moment was to be lost.The pressure of the crowd, greater from the opposite direction than fromthe one in which Inglesant had come, fortunately swept the group almostto the foot of the steps. Near to Inglesant, and clinging to the carvedbases of the half-columns that supported the facade of the Church, weretwo or three priests who had come out of the interior, attracted by thetumult. Availing himself of their support, Inglesant shouted to thecaptors of the unhappy man, in the name of the Church and of the Duke,to bring their prisoner up the steps. They probably would not haveobeyed him, though they hesitated for a moment; but the surroundingcrowd, attracted towards the Church by Inglesant's gestures, began topress upon it from all sides, as he had indeed foreseen would be thecase, and finally, by their unconscious and involuntary motion, sweptthe prisoner and his captors up the steps to the side of the priests andof Inglesant. It was a singular scene. The rapidly advancing night hadchanged the golden haze of sunset to a sombre gloom, but lights began toappear in the houses all around, and paper lanterns showed themselvesamong the crowd.
The cause of all this confusion was dragged by his persecutors up thesteps, and placed upon the last of the flight, confronting the priests.His hair was disordered, his clothes nearly torn from his limbs, and hisface and dress streaked with blood. Past the curtain across theentrance of the Church, which was partly drawn back by those inside, aflash of light shot across the marble platform, and shone upon the facesof the foremost of the crowd. This light shone full upon Inglesant, whostood, in striking contrast to the dishevelled figure that confrontedhim, dressed in a suit of black satin and silver, with a deep collar ofPoint-de-Venice lace. The priests stood a little behind, apparentlydesirous to learn the nature of the prisoner's offence before theyinterfered; and the accusers therefore addressed themselves toInglesant, who, indeed, was recognized by many as a friend of the Duke,and whom the priests especially had received instructions from Rome tosupport. The confusion in the crowd meanwhile increased rather thandiminished; there seemed to be causes at work other than the slight oneof the seizure by the mob of an unpopular man. The town was very full ofstrangers, and it struck Inglesant that the arrest of the man before himwas merely an excuse, and was being used by some who had an object togain by stirring up the people. He saw, at any rate, however this mightbe, a means of engaging the priests to assist him, should their
aid benecessary in saving the man's life.
That there was a passionate attachment among the people to a separateand independent government of their city and state, an affection towardsthe family of their hereditary dukes, and a dread and jealous dislike ofthe Pope's government and of the priests, he had reason to believe. Itseemed to him that the people were about to break forth into somedemonstration of this antipathy, which, if allowed to take place, and iftaken advantage of, as it would be, by the neighbouring princes, wouldbe most displeasing to the policy of Rome, if not entirely subversive ofit. With these thoughts in his mind, as he stood for a moment silent onthe marble platform, and saw before him, what is perhaps the mostimpressive of all sights, a vast assemblage of people in a state ofviolent and excited opposition, and reflected on the causes which heimagined agitated them,--causes which in his heart he, though enlistedon the opposite side, had difficulty in persuading himself were notjustifiable,--it came into his mind more powerfully than ever, that themoment foretold to him by Serenus de Cressy was at last indeed come.Surely it behoved him to look well to his steps, lest he should be foundat last absolutely and unequivocally fighting against his conscience andhis God; if, indeed, this looking well to their steps on such occasions,and not boldly choosing their side, had not been for many years theprevailing vice of his family, and to some extent the cause of his ownspiritual failure.
The two men who held the apparent cause of all this uproar were twomechanics of jovial aspect, who appeared to look upon the affair more inthe light of a brutal practical joke (no worse in their eyes for itsbrutality), than as a very serious matter. To Inglesant's question whatthe man had done they answered that he had refused to kneel to theBlessed Sacrament, as it was being carried through the streets to somepoor, dying soul, and upon being remonstrated with, had reviled not onlythe Sacrament itself, but the Virgin, the Holy Father, and the Italiansgenerally, as Papistical asses, with no more sense than the Pantaleoniof their own comedies. The men gave this evidence in an insolenthalf-jesting manner, as though not sorry to utter such words safely inthe presence of the priests.
Inglesant, who kept his eyes fixed upon the prisoner, and noticed thathe was rapidly recovering from the breathless and exhausted conditionthe ill-treatment he had met with had reduced him to, and was assuming adetermined and somewhat noble aspect, abstained from questioning him,lest he should make his own case only the more desperate; but, turningto the priests, he rapidly explained his fears to them, and urged thatthe man should be immediately secured from the people, that he might beexamined by the Duke, and the result forwarded to Rome. The priestshesitated. Apart from the difficulty, they said, of taking the man outof the hands of his captors, such a course would be sure to exasperatethe people still further, and bring on the very evil that he wasdesirous of averting. It would be better to let the mob work their willupon the man; it would at least occupy some time, and every moment wasprecious. In less than an hour the fireworks at the palace would begin,might indeed be hastened by a special messenger; and the fete oncebegun, they hoped all danger would be over. To this Inglesant answeredthat the man's arrest was evidently only an excuse for riot, and hadprobably already answered its purpose; that to confine the people'sattention to it would be unfavourable to the intentions of those whowere promoting a political tumult; and that the avowed cause of theman's seizure, and of the excitement of the mob, being disrespectfullanguage towards the Holy Father, the tumult, if properly managed, mightbe made of service to the cause of Rome rather than the reverse.
Without waiting for the effect of this somewhat obscure argument on thepriests, Inglesant directed the men who held their prisoner to bring himinto the Church. They were unwilling to do so, but the crowd below wasso confused and tumultuous, one shouting one thing and one another, thatit seemed impossible that, if they descended into it again, they wouldbe allowed to retain their prey, and would not rather be overwhelmed ina common destruction with him. On the other hand, by obeying Inglesant,they at least kept possession of their prisoner, and could thereforescarcely fail of receiving some reward from the authorities. Theytherefore consented, and by a sudden movement they entered the Church,the doors of which were immediately closed, after some few of thepopulace had managed to squeeze themselves in. A messenger was at oncedespatched to the palace to hasten the fireworks, and to request that adetachment of the Duke's guard should be sent into the Church by a backway.
The darkness had by this time so much increased that few of the peoplewere aware of what had taken place, and the ignorance of the crowd as tothe cause of the tumult was so general that little disturbance tookplace among those who were shut out of the Church. They remainedhowling and hooting, it is true, for some time, and some went so far asto beat against the closed doors; but a rumour being spread among thecrowd that the fireworks were immediately to begin, they grew tired ofthis unproductive occupation, and flocked almost to a man out of thesquare and wharves, and crowded across the bridge into the gardens.
When the guard arrived, Inglesant claimed the man as the Duke'sprisoner, to be examined before him in the morning. The curiosity of theDuke in all religious matters being well known, this seemed veryreasonable to the officer of the guard, and the priests did not like todispute it after the instructions they had received with regard toInglesant's mission. The two artisans were propitiated by aconsiderable reward, and the prisoner was then transported byunfrequented ways to the palace, and shut up in a solitary apartment,whilst the rest of the world delighted itself at the palace fetes.
The garden festivities passed away amid general rejoicing and applause.The finest effect was produced at the conclusion, when the whole mass ofwater at the command of the engines, being thrown into the air in thinfan-like jets, was illuminated by various coloured lights, producing theappearance of innumerable rainbows, through which the palace itself, theorangeries, the gardens, and terraces, and the crowds of delightedpeople, were seen illuminated and refracted in varied and ever-changingtints. Amid these sparkling colours strange birds passed to and fro,and angelic forms descended by unseen machinery and walked on the higherterraces, and as it were upon the flashing rainbows themselves.Delicious music from unseen instruments ravished the sense, and when thescene appeared complete and nothing further was expected, an orangegrove in the centre of the whole apparently burst open, and displayedthe stage of a theatre, upon which antic characters performed apantomime, and one of the finest voices in Italy sang an ode in honourof the day, of the Duke, and of the Pope.
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