Don Tarquinio: A Kataleptic Phantasmatic Romance (Valancourt eClassics)

by Frederick Rolfe

  He was very loquacious concerning his adventures in a Jew’s house, which used to stand by St. George’s of the Golden Sail and the arch of Janus, where certain Jewesses had been entertaining him. But, their father having returned unexpectedly from some nocturnal orgy, they had hidden Gioffredo in the pea-bin: from which uncomfortable abode he at length emerged, deeming the moment convenient for flight. But the said Jew, having found a strange sword, was on the watch; and furiously withstood him. Gioffredo had only a poignard and a mail-shirt, the latter in his hand instead of on his body: but, nevertheless, he had bidden old Abraham to bethink himself, seeing that the said poignard had been used for carving pork. But the Jew had enraged himself the more; and Gioffredo, having, all his points untrussed and his hosen about his feet, was unable to run. Wherefore, taking the mail-shirt by the sleeves, he swinged at his opponent such a blow that he fell prone, over whom incontinently rolling, the Paparch’s son contrived to get into the street. He had lost his sword and his boots; and he had spoiled his garments: but his speech was so comical, and his occasional jerks (when the movement of his horse caused him to sit upon a forgotten pea) by degrees dismissed the severity with which I at first was inclined to treat him. And also I was no saint myself. So I said. And so we came in silence to the Fabrician Bridge.

  Gioffredo affectionately inquired the cause of my silence, saying that thinking made one grow old.

  To whom I responded, saying that I was unhappy, and that all these games appeared to be only vain and rather silly, seeing that there were many other worthier occupations for princes of our quality. But, remembering that Gioffredo was a guest, anon I changed my mood, lightly asking whether he would wend to Vatican.

  He would not; but he demanded half of my bed for the night, commanding his decurion to bring a valise of new habits from Traspontina,[2] for him to don on the morrow. And so we entered the palace.

  Some malignant star caused a misfortune at our entrance. The soldier, who had my Keltic lad on his horse’s crupper, dismounted; and began to unbuckle the girth. Near by, ij pages had been fighting; and one was bewailing and letting drip a bleeding nose. The odour of the blood enraged the stallion, on whose bare back the Keltic lad was sitting sideways, waiting for orders. That one promptly flung his leg over; and, leaning forward, seized the bridle. Insued sudden dispersal of the crowd, wild galloping through the courtyards, sidelong sweepings and rushings, heavenward tossings, frantic plungings; but the rider sat erect, tense as young Bellerophon before Chimaira, gripped to his steed by thighs and knees. Indeed, it was a very grand spectacle.

  While we all were gazing, the noise disturbed Ippolito: who came bounding down the stair, as the furious beast dashed through the low arch beneath the hall. That cardinal instantly cast his cardinalature to the iiij winds, leaping and tearing at the bitt with his gigantic strength, muffling the stallion’s head in his vermilion mantle, while the grooms ran up and hobbled the dire hooves.

  Anon the Keltic lad dismounted; and stood before us, blushing, trembling, bright-eyed, brave, a slender supple figure, with articulations of most delicate distinction. His glance strayed toward the girl. She stood still where she had been placed at first. In admiring him, I forgot that I myself was miserable. Gioffredo’s eyes began to goggle.

  Ippolito looked from the stranger to me. Having whispered what was necessary to the one, I announced to the other Ippolito’s condition of Most Illustrious Lord Cardinal-Δ. and Prince of Ferrara. The Keltic lad kneeled; and did obeisance to the sapphire.

  Ippolito resumed his cardinalature, stiffly asking the lad to name himself.

  That one responded, saying that he was the Vicomte Réné XVIIII Raoul Alain Gabriel Marie de Sainctrose, Vidame de Sainctrose, Sieur de Chastelmondesir; and now, o Prospero, thou knowest how thy father, and thy godfather, and Renato’s,[3] first became acquainted each with other.

  We all were much astonished. Ippolito demanded more news. To whom the Vicomte de Sainctrose was pleased to say that his father had had two brothers, videlicet the Sieur Estienne who was father to the Damoiselle Estelle there present and cousin of the speaker, and the Sieur Guichart who was father to the Damoiseau Armand then absent but also cousin of the speaker. Further he said that his own father and mother long had lived in olympian mansions:[4] that his uncle Estienne had gone by the same road at Michaelmas: that his uncle Guichart, being then his warden and the girl’s, and wishing to have his demesne and hers for his own son, kept them both hardly, fearing by cause that they loved one another. Wherefore, on the day of the dead,[5] those ij had prayed to their parents with the gods, and anon escaped into the forest belonging to the said Vicomte de Sainctrose, intending to love and to die there. But a company of Egyptians had captured them; and had brought them, with other stolen children, by long roads to the City, selling them as slaves.

  Ippolito interrupted, saying something about an evil trade.

  The Vicomte indignantly gainsaid him: asseverating that he himself and his cousin had been but a night and a day in the City; and that, as he was not alone, it behoved him to use subtilty for the sake of his said cousin. He denied that he had followed an evil trade, having a knife, which either would cause force to flee, or would open Paradise for the girl and for him then speaking.

  Ippolito still demurred: but Réné persisted, saying:

  “The Most Illustrious Prince Tarquinio Giorgio Drakontoletes Poplicola di Hagiostayros used princely words and kindlike, the first from strangers during many months: for which cause We wished to let him know that a Keltic noble could be as generous as a Roman patrician.”

  And he added, in the Greek tongue, that he venerated me as his Deliverer.[6]

  As thou well knowst, o Prospero, the road to my love lieth through Hellas; and, when I heard that last word of the Vicomte de Sainctrose, my bowels yearned because of him.[7] I said:

  “Tell us thine age, o Damoiseau.”

  He responded to me, saying that the nones of April would mark the opening of his fifteenth year.

  When I understood that he had been born under the Ram and Mars, the cause of his extraordinary courage and of the astounding manner in which he had governed his affairs, at once became clear to me. Desiring to be associated with such an one, I completed my deliberations with these words:

  “We offer to take thee into Our service.”

  He responded to me again, saying that he desired nothing better than to learn the duties of his estate, in order that he might oust the usurper of his feoffs at an opportune time. But his eyes wandered to the girl.

  I said that the comptroller should have order regarding him, and that the mistress of the women should have order regarding the damoiselle: for, being no more than a guest in the Estense palace, I was in a quandary at the moment. And so I turned away, with Ippolito and the Borgia boy. As we went, I was telling Ippolito more of what had happened at the Falcon Inn. Gioffredo continually ejaculated concerning the good fortune of certain people: but Ippolito’s brow became as black as night. Anon he interrupted me; and took command of the whole matter, saying that he would not know of any sin or of anything needing amendment in his palace. And he began to act.

  The page Giovempedocle (he was very finely made, o Prospero, but his right eye was brown while his left eye was blue) evanesced with an order for the mistress of the women to conduct the Damoiselle Estelle de Sainctrose to the cedar cabinet with a vicecomitial escort.

  The page Giacinto (he was quite young, but his hair was as white as hoar-frost and very luxuriant indeed) evanesced with an order for an abbate (whose name I have forgotten) to attend in the chapel.

  But we returned; and joined the Vicomte de Sainctrose to our company. Réné was palpitating with emotions not necessary to be described. I took his hand; and we followed Ippolito to the treasury, where a choice was made of certain matters. As we went along, a full state of gentlemen and chamberlains with the double-cross collected; and attended us to the cedar cabinet.

  There, we withdrew the ij Keltic nobl
es to the window, where we could speak in secret; and Ippolito examined them as to their real sentiments each for other. Their wonderful frank eyes became grave as they responded, saying that they were one. He gave rings to them, each ring a flight of golden cupids bound with scrolls inscribed Je sui’ ici en li’u d’ amy and Filz ou Fille. Taking their hands, he led them to the chapel. The presbyter blessed the rings. They were exchanged and planted. Benediction hallowed nuptials, legitimate, indissoluble.

  Thus was one of the many grand deeds done by thy father, o my son Prospero, well done on that fortunate day.

  [1] I suppose this to be the ruined Theatre of Marcellus which the Pierleone fortified in the eleventh century. It is now the Palazzo Savelli.

  [2] The palace of the Cardinal of Saint Mary’s across the Bridge, by the Vatican. It was rented for the Borgia princes.

  [3] This would be that magnanimous Renato, son of the Marcantonio here mentioned, of whom Dom Gheraldo Pinarj so deliciously has written in his journal.

  [4] A pretty way of saying that they were gone to heaven.

  [5] All Souls’ Day, the second of November.

  [6]έλευθερωτης.

  [7] Don Tarquinio was a great one for judging by the evidence of his senses. The brave and pitiful little vicomte had told an amazing tale; and there was not a shred of corroborative detail. If this had happened in the nineteenth century, they of course would have interned the couple in more or less criminal seclusion, until they had obtained a pack of identificatory papers—which any fool can forge. But it luckily happened in the fifteenth century, when men (being men of sense) believed in God, Who had made them in His Own Image; and, consequently, they felt no false delicacy about assuming for themselves some of the divine attributes—for example, the power of recognizing truth when they saw and heard it. Prince Tarquinio heard the Vicomte de Sainctrose: he looked into his open eyes; and decided that the thing was true—saving himself (and everyone else) an infinity of trouble by his sensibility.

  VIII

  We conducted the bridegroom and his bride to an apartment on the second stair; and the door was shut. Ippolito returned to his lessons: but I took Gioffredo to my proper lodging.

  Having seen those children happy, I felt mine own unhappiness surging again in my breast. By the grace of the gods, the Borgia boy chattered like a pie all the time, enraptured with his own garrulity, needing no attention. Thus I was able to let my proper thoughts range freely. We rested in arm-chairs, while the pages doffed our garments, wrapping us in white woollen frocks.

  It was not to be denied that I had done a noble deed in rescuing those children from a den of infamy. I looked at the sheets, filled with fragrant herbs, which hung by their corners from the ceiling of the bathing-chamber, as though I expected a message of approval from the Divine Ones who live in that direction. We were sitting on large sponges placed on rush-seated stools upon the floor-sheet; and pages laid other sponges under our feet.

  I remember noting that Gioffredo’s big toes were his longest toes: but my second toes are my longest toes, according to the canon of Lysippos.[1] Otherwise his form was without blemish; and if, as Ippolito alleged, I in mine adolescence resembled the marble copy of the lithe thalerose image of David by Messer Verrocchio, certainly the Borgia boy at that time resembled the sleek plump image of David by Messer Donatello, which images copied in tinted marble the white-faced cardinal then possessed. So I judged; and I resolved to mention this particular to Ippolito: not that I actually believed myself to resemble the beautiful Rufo Drudodimare, admirable, pathetic, or Gioffredo to resemble the splendid Baldonero Fioravanti, admirable, treacherous, in more particulars than a few and those very superficial: but those ij adolescents had been mistaken for the very images themselves above-named; and so we ij also possessed a certain similitude to the same, but only to the casual spectator. However, the thing was strange; and I pondered it in my mind.

  Anon I began to wonder what colour of body his stars had deigned to Réné. That his form was as exquisite and as vigorous as his mind, I already knew from the evidence of my sense of sight: but I often have noted that a fine form and fine features sometimes are marred by some imperfect tincture of the skin in parts; and I eagerly looked forward to the morrow, when I might take an opportunity of assuring myself as to the person of one whose individuality seemed to be so sympathetic.

  After these rather absurd meditations, I went on to consider the likely effects of my deed of the night.

  The pages had placed beneath our stools great silver bowls containing the steaming stew of hollyhock, mallow, pellitory, sweet fennel, wall-wort, johnswort, centaury, rib-grass, camomile, heyhove, heyriff, herbbenet, daisy, wild-water-parsley, water-speedwell, scabious, henbane, withy-leaves, green oats, all boiled to a pulp in distilled water. Note the composition of this bath, o Prospero. It was invented by one of his mages for the cardinal; and as conducing to physical health, it hath no equal. I heard the senior page reciting the names of the herbs, as I had heard him on the vij previous nights, while the others wrapped us and our stools closely in thick woollen cloths of enormous size. While thus we sat sweating in the odoriferous steam, Gioffredo incessantly gabbled: but I cogitated many things in my mind.

  It appeared to me that I had delivered a Keltic noble from slavery, had enabled him to provide himself with legitimate heirs of his body in contempt of his wicked uncle, and that I was going to enable him sooner or later to achieve his natural rights and dignities. In plain words, I had laid him under a debt of gratitude. Secondly, I had conceived an immense affection for him, which he in turn seemed to reciprocate. In plain words, I had acquired another friend who might be valuable.

  At this point of the argument, the cloths were removed; and our flesh was seen to be as scarlet as the flesh of tunny-fish. The pages sponged us with tepid rose-water; and several bucketfuls of cold, poured over our heads when we stood up, caused pallor anon to conquer ruddiness. So we stood on dry sheets by the glow of the fire, spitting into gold basins while cleaning our teeth with linen, moistened in a liquid made of mastic, rosemary, sage, bramble-leaves all macerate in Greek wine, and dipped in a powder of barley-bread burned with salt. This was the recipe which our mage of Deira gave to me; and I gave it to Ippolito.

  The pages dried our bodies, chafing our limbs with their hands; but I was persuading myself that such a friend as the Vicomte de Sainctrose might be very useful to me anon, supposing that Ippolito should fail to induce our Lord the Paparch to treat me fairly: for, I deliberated, if the Great Ban were to continue in force against me here, I should be compelled to seek an opportunity for expending mine energies elsewhere. And I stretched myself, looking down upon my tremendous natural capabilities with anger at the thought that they were totally useless. I most earnestly desired to sting someone.

  Gioffredo went on chattering. I believe that he had not found me a good listener: for he was addressing himself to the pages who were rubbing his ribs. We went into the bedchamber for the drying and combing of our hair. Long before this was finished, Gioffredo slept where he sat in his chair. The service was a poor one for the son of our Lord the Paparch, accustomed to luxuries as he was: but he himself had chosen his lot, and his breeding prohibited complaint.

  But I, on my part, bitterly complained of evil knitting in the hosen which I had doffed, reducing my comptroller to terror, very comical, lest he should be degraded from his situation; for mine anger at the malignance of my stars made me angry with all and singular. What was the use, I reflected, of a Keltic friend, not xv years old, dispossessed of his demesnes, and actually dependent on me for a livelihood? And I thought bitterly of Réné blissfully mounted and riding to fortune, and of myself writhing under the oppression of the Great Ban.

  Our hair having been tucked into our nightcaps, nothing now remained but that we should betake ourselves to bed. But, while the pages were spreading the footcloths, and covering the rush-lights with shades, and opening the windows, Gioffredo suddenly awakened and would
have been merry. I myself was in no mood for sleep: nor could I join in his mirth. But I suggested that we ij should go to find Ippolito.

  A couple of my best nightgowns[2] were brought; and the Borgia boy chose the one of vair of nut-brown squirrels, with slippers of the same: but I indued the other of ermine reversed with ermines, with slippers of minever. I remember this, by cause that both these nightgowns were of great value, and after this night I never saw either of them again.[3]

  Thus we proceeded; and we found the cardinal writing, in the secret chamber, still engaged with his tasks.

  [1] This would be the Athlete with the Strigil, the Apoxyomenos, the supreme model of human form, which is so unaccountably and yet so assiduously neglected by all “strong men” and physiculturists of the present day. It is strange that this statue should be named by Don Tarquinio: for it was not discovered till A.D. 1849, though it certainly was discovered in Trastevere, the district of Rome in which Don Tarquinio was in A.D. 1495.

  [2] He means “dressing-gowns,” I surmise: for gentlemen of the fifteenth century slept as God made them.

  [3] It’s extremely likely. They appear to have been cast off in a great hurry a little later, in a place accessible to many miscellaneous persons. Patricians, who fling away fur nightgowns among people not responsible for their preservation, ought not to be surprized when they lose them. Valuable fur nightgowns are saleable; and—strange, but absolutely true, to say—Rome was full of Jews who had fled from Torquemada and the Spanish Inquisition to the generous protection of Pope Alexander the Sixth.