[2] This would be that very wonderful person of Rotterdam called Gerard, who (having no legal surname) translated his Flemish Christian name (which means “The Beloved”) into its Latin and Greek equivalents, Desiderius Έρασμιος, by which combination indeed we know him now as Desiderius Erasmus.
XXII
Having parted from our companions and dismissed our trains, I and Ippolito walked along the high gallery, emerging at length on the vast corridor of the castle, spiral, gloomy. Below were labyrinthine depths. We ascended several little stairs, passing through numerous antechambers hung with porphyry-coloured arras. The odour of the place was sepulchral.
A ruffled flunkey in a Spanish habit of black, with cloak and sword, drew aside a thick porphyry-coloured curtain; and we passed out of darkness into the blazing sunlight of The Presence.
We were on a secluded terrace on the summit of the fortress. Beyond the battlements, we could see the panorama of all Rome and the Campagna with the Alban Mount on the distant horizon. Tiber seemed to be a chain of chrysoliths meandering among mounds of emeralds. So lofty a situation was convenient for Him, Whose authority was world-wide.
Some orange-trees in tubs formed a screen in the shadow of a turret. A square carpet, porphyry-coloured, was spread on the pavement. A throne-like chair, raised on one step, with a foot-stool and cushions and other stools, all of the same colour, stood upon it.
Here sat the Ruler of the world, the Father of princes and kings, the earthly Vicar of Jesus Christ our Saviour, the Paparch Alexander, magnificent, invincible, alone and reading in His breviary.
I will tell thee, o Prospero, how that incomparable prince and pontiff appeared to me. He was habited in the white cassock, sash, and hosen, the porphyry-coloured shoes embroidered with gold crosses, the cape and cap of porphyry-coloured velvet, reversed with ermine, the golden paparchal stole. The pallium of universal jurisdiction, well-woven, snow-like, was fixed, on His breast and shoulders, by diamond pins of the form of crosses potent elongate. A gold chain surrounded His neck; and its pendent cross decorously was hidden in the folds of His cape.[1] The grand gold signet of the paparchy glittered on the first finger, and an enormous amethyst on the third of His right hand. He was in the sixty-fifth year of His age, of a robust habit of body; and genial generous majesty distinguished the splendour of His Spanish features.
The chamberlains and pages in porphyry-coloured liveries, who stood about the turret-doorway, performed their genuflections; and retired backward.
Ippolito let his great-cloak of ermine and vermilion fall to trail voluminously behind him; and led me forward by the hand. I suddenly became conscious that I was very young and very slim by side of all this sumptuous grandeur. I felt as a new taper feeleth when stuck suddenly on high upon a pricket, rather pleased with the light on its head: but knowing that a mere flip of the finger can break its body in twain and consign it to the darkness of oblivion. But yet, remembering how diaphanously white and vivid were mine aspect and my gait, I comforted myself a little.
We kneeled at the foot-stool. Ippolito kissed the paparchal hand: I, the cross on the shoe.
The Archiereys closed His prayer-book, looking with inquiry from me to Ippolito, and back again to me. I perceived admiration in His glance which swept and enveloped me; and I knew that my stars were benignant. I was glad.
Ippolito stood up: but I remained on my knees. He took mine hand; and presented me by name, reciting my style and estate.
Our Lord the Paparch did not remove his glance from me: nor I, mine from Him.
Ippolito continued his discourse, stating mine abominable condition, naming my natural abilities as well as the disabilities which, as a bandit, I was compelled to tolerate; and he briefly narrated the deed which I had done, meriting favour. And at length he made an end.
Our Lord the Paparch gave me a sign to rise, saying nothing. I alertly sprang to my feet; and took ij paces backward, from the shadow into the full glare of the sun, stiffening my strong knees, standing well-poised and very rigidly erect indeed. So, having shaken mine hair from mine eyes, I looked squarely and superbly in the face of His Sanctity.
He intently regarded me during ij or iij moments. Then He said:
“Let Us hear thy voice, that We may know thee.”
I drew in a very long breath, inflating my breast, raising my head and shoulders; and, began to speak, gravely, slowly, saying that I knew myself to be in the presence of the Ruler of the world, Whose plenitude of power could reinstate mine house of Poplicola di Hagiostayros, no one contradicting, or could eradicate the same utterly by means of the Great Ban—power, I said, of making or of marring.
Then I hesitated: for sudden overwhelming conviction of mine helpless insignificance rushed into my mind. I poured out a torrent of words. What was I, I said, in the sight of the Father of princes and kings, but a negligible worm.
And impotent fury, at my total dependence on the Paparch’s will and pleasure, inflamed me. My face tingled with angry blood, at the thought that anyone should be my superior, at the knowledge that I knew myself to be this One’s inferior and had confessed the same. But instantly, with a very vehement effort, I mastered mine emotions; and continued speaking, deliberately, even frigidly, while the bowels terrifically throbbed within my body. I said:
“But I will not sue. There are no crimes on my soul which are matter for pardon. I will not ask for favour. But, rather than live another hour, blameless under the Great Ban which I have not merited, I will dive headlong from these near battlements, that the candour of mine innocence may shatter the blood-stained stones of Rome.”
Thus having spoken, I flashed mine eyes to the side for an instant, noting the place whence I would spring. Then I looked back with most fierce determination, alert and ready to leap before Ippolito could lay his mighty hands on me, standing intense, expecting paparchal fulminations.
Our Lord the Paparch eyed me up and down, comprehending each plane and contour of the incarnate independence, pallid, not uncomely in defiance, which refused to ask for right as a grace. And anon He very gently said:
“Dear lovely child, think not so unkindly of thy Father.”
At those words, sublime, benignant, my throat was constricted and my knees trembled very exceedingly. Mine eyes glared upon the Paparch and the cardinal in turn, without seeing either of those personages. Then I looked upward to the empyrean where the gods live: for surely it was a god’s voice which I had heard; and I noted a little skylark soaring above me, singing like an angel. Nothing else was visible to me at that moment. My body was simply tottering by cause of the sudden violent evanescence of my fury.
I sank on my knees, very meekly kissing the extended hand of my Father.
The bells in all the turrets of the City began clanging in the new manner. It was the hour of noon.
Our Lord the Paparch and the Cardinal of Ferrara kneeled where they were; and said the prayers, Angelus Domini and the rest.
I also was kneeling, thankful enough for the interval while I conquered my weakness, recollecting myself.
[1] This seems to be less ostentatious than the modern prelatic method.
XXIII
A company of paparchal familiars entered. Some brought a table sustaining the apparatus for dining. Others brought another table covered with a fair linen cloth. On the last, the cook placed a covered dish: the butler, a dish of raisins and a basket of bread: the cellarer, a glass flask of wine and another of water. I never have seen a service so extremely plain.
Being now fulfilled with vigour and thankfulness, I longed to do something dynamic. Wherefore, I violently hustled three pages, robbing them of the basin and the ewer and the towel; and, on my knees, I did boy’s service, while our Lord the Paparch first washed His hands.
He smiled at mine ardour: but knowing (in His enormous wisdom) that I was excited beyond measure, He addressed His words to Ippolito, saying:
“Most of thy colleagues, o Cardinal of Ferrara, are either in prison or in reb
ellion; and the orators[1] and the barons are unwilling to dine with Us, by cause that We so far abstain from carnal lusts in that a single dish sufficeth for our table. Consequently, when We find in Our hand, at dinner time, a cardinal-prince and a Roman patrician, it is but natural that they should become Our guests. What is enough for one is enough for ij, and what is enough for ij is enough for iij. Let then stools be set for the cardinal and for this white flame of adolescence.”
So this Sanctity deigned to give order.
The table, being an high one, was wheeled to our Lord the Paparch where He sat on His elevated chair. But our stools were heightened by cushions. Very strange ceremonial was observed at this meal.
A chamberlain presented a bundle of napkins, from which we each selected ij. With the first, we scrupulously rubbed our platters and knives and forks and moss-agate cups, before using the same. With the second, we protected our garments from slops, or wiped our mouths before drinking. All this being strange to me, I carefully imitated the example of Ippolito, perceiving him to be acquainted with the practice. But I wondered greatly what might be the significance of such elaborate functions. And anon it was given to me to understand.
For the cook, having uncovered the dish, genuflected; and presented beef and olives to Our Lord the Paparch: Who Himself deigned to cut off a mouthful at random, putting the same on a fork with an olive similarly selected; and watched the said cook eating both morsels. This having been done, His Sanctity took His portion of the viands; and the dish was brought to us others in turn. In like manner, the butler proffered the bread-basket; and ate crust and crumb of the Paparch’s choosing, before any bread was so much as touched by us iij. The same ceremony having been kept with the raisins, the dish and the basket were established on the table under our eyes. The cellarer brought also the wine and water; and, having drunk a cupful of both, which the Paparch deigned to pour for him, he filled for us, and placed the flasks by side of the dish of raisins.
By this time, I had become conscious that these practices merely were a substitute for the customary venom-taster; and, all incontinent, I said, by way of comment, that life would not be worth my while, if I were compelled to take so many meticulous precautions against venom every time when I desired to satiate mine hunger.
Our Lord the Paparch retorted on me, saying:
“The life of Him who is God’s Vicegerent is not worth any man’s while.”
And He began to speak to Ippolito, as soon as the servitors had left us alone, questioning him very acutely concerning the events of the night and morning. It was very strange to hear Him talking of the Cardinal of Valencia:[2] for He by no means spoke of that splendid purpled person, tawny, tiger-like, as a father speaketh of the son of his loins, nor did He speak of the said adolescent as a slave speaketh of his tyrant or as a victim speaketh of his persecutor, in despite of those who very vainly have alleged that Cesare dominated the indomitable Alexander: but it seemed to me that He spoke of him rather as one would speak of a servant of hyperexcellent parts, whom one employeth for the sake of another who is served by such employment of such a servant. And this indeed is true: for we now know that Madonna Giovannozza bore Cesare to Giuliano[3] before she bore Juan Francisco[4] and Lucrezia and Gioffredo to Rodrigo;[5] and, that Alexander should have deigned to advance the fortunes of Cesare, as well for that splendid prince’s own utility as for the love which He bore for the mother of the same, is only natural. But, while I was excogitating the matter, I did not omit to devour as much food as decorum permitted, I being most terrifically hungry, and the attention of the other ij being diverted from me during nearly all the time.
And anon, at the end, our Lord the Paparch thus addressed me by the same appellation as before; and He used the Roman tongue in a very archaic manner, saying:
“Dear lovely child, what wouldst thou have and what canst thou do?”
But, before that I was able to utter a syllable, Ippolito interrupted, reciting a category of my numerous peculiar excellencies, which I will not include in this history, seeing that they are known to every man. But, after many words concerning my bravery, he ended with the assertion of Messer Pierettore that I could write Greek and speak it like Saint Gabriel Archangel.
This seemed to be intended as an advice to me: for which cause, seeing that the Paparch’s grand eyes still dwelled on me as though expecting mine own response, I began to orate in the crisp and dulcet syllabification of Hellas, saying:
“Wisdom, as I suppose, is a different thing from courage.”[6]
But there our Lord the Paparch stopped me, saying again:
“Dear lovely child, thou shalt know that an old man like Ourself, Who hath been worried by recalcitrant kings and by other naughty men, hath forgotten ah the Greek which He ever knew, save the wail of that scribe who wrote, Would that We could grow young again.”[7]
But the saying was a pathetic one, tear-bringing, love-inspiring; and, at that moment, I could not think of anything better to say than that I was in all things obedient to His sovereign will.
He was listening very intently: for, having afforded me so much time for recollection, I think that He expected me to make an elaborate discourse. But I, being mindful of His supremacy not less than of His generosity, preferred to show an equal generosity and confidence on mine own part: for which cause, I responded as aforesaid. He urged me then to make a formal definite petition: but, being indeed very pleased with the form of words which I had used, I continued to respond to all His urging, saying only:
“I am in all things obedient to my sovereign’s will.”
At this the paparchal pages returned, bringing the rosewater for our last hand-washing. This duty having been performed and the psalm ended, they removed the tables and retired.
Ippolito stood up, stretching his gigantic limbs and combing his hair: but our Lord the Paparch was observing me all the time. As the servitors were going away, He shot a sudden commandment after them to bring a skin of parchment, with ink and pens and pounce.
This having been done, and we iij being alone again, He ordained that I should bring my stool near to Him, having thrown the cushions aside, and having placed the writing materials on it; and also that I should kneel there, ready to write.
Thus, He Himself dictated to me the petition, which thou, o Prospero, knowest to be the most precious document in thy father’s archives. But, although thou hast seen the same so often that its contents are impressed indelibly on thy memory, nevertheless I will not omit to transcribe it here, in order that this history may be perfect and complete, videlicet:
The petition of the Roman patrician named Tarquinio Giorgio Rrakontoletes Poplicola di Hagiostayros
is
that he may be delivered from the Great Ban,
that he may be relieved from all disabilities,
that he may be absolved from all canonical censures and excommunications,
in his own person, and
in the persons of all of his house:
also
that he himself may be named among the Advocates of the Sacred Consistory, where he may use his mind:
also
that he himself may be named among Our knights of Saint George for the Defence of Christendom, where he may use his body against the foes of our Most Holy Faith.
Thus He spoke and thus I had written: but when I conned it over, as I threw the golden pounce upon the wet ink, a kind of terror seized me; and I began again to shake like one in a palsy. And suddenly a new diversion occurred.
Numerous footsteps and voices approached the door of the turret, wafting a delicate odour as of women and love.
[1] The ambassadors of the Powers, who, at this epoch, did most of their ambassadorial business in flowery rhetoric.
[2] This piece of the holograph, although not exactly germane to the thread of the story (except in so far as it is the reflections of Don Tarquinio while a guest at the paparchal dinner-table), is extremely interesting as history, especially to all sorts of s
illy daws who would like to try to pretend to think otherwise.
[3] Cardinal Dellarovere (who afterward became Julius the Second) was named Giuliano.
[4] The young Duke of Gandia who was murdered.
[5] Cardinal Borja y Borja (who became Alexander the Sixth) was named Rodrigo. And here we seem to have gotten to the bottom of one of the many Borgia mysteries—viz., the real parentage and status of Cesare (called) Borgia.
[6] χωρὶς δήπου σοφία ἐστὶν ἀνδρείας (Plato).
[7] ἀνηβητηρίαν ῥώμην ἐπαινῶ λαμβάνειν (Eyripides).
XXIIII
Madonna Lucrezia entered with her galaxy of maids, who did obeisance; and crossed the terrace toward the battlements. There they stood, admiring the view, moving a little among themselves like flowers in a breeze. But the tyrant came and sat on one of the cushions near the Paparch’s footstool, between me and Ippolito, facing us both.
She put a most delicate hand on the archieratic knee; and thus she spoke, saying:
“Dear and Most Holy Father, I hope that Thou hast been doing justice to this beautiful and blameless gentleman.”
But, while she was speaking, yet more noises came from the door of the turret; and Gioffredo entered with his wife and their baby and their several trains. The prince and princess seated themselves on the other cushions on the step of the throne: but their familiars drifted away to the other maids-of-honour who were already by the battlements.
I was kneeling still with the portentous parchment under mine hand. All my body was quaking terribly: for I was not quite able to believe in my good fortune, and rather feared that I was being played with.
Don Tarquinio: A Kataleptic Phantasmatic Romance (Valancourt eClassics) Page 12