which meets one at every turn both in Italian
histories of the past and in the modern life of
the people, to the account of this cause. But
we remember the dictum of the old poet, who
more than any other has daguerreotyped for us
the life, manners, and modes of thought of the
old Roman world — Horace — to the effect that
"no one of the gods refuses his favour to the
man whom Prudence stands by," and recognise
in the thought the ancestors of Italy's present
and mediaeval inhabitants.

The game now to be played out by the
combined sagacity of the Accoramboni family was
one which called forth all the resources of this
favourite faculty. If the prizes in the wheel
were numerous and splendid, so also were the
dangers which lay thick and various round about
them; so many things had to be considered in
that strangely constituted and cynically corrupt
Roman world, which the members of a simpler,
because a more law-governed, state of society
would never dream of. Enmities had to be
forecastingly provided against. And if this
were impossible, they were to be providently
counteracted by such protections as might be
most suited for overcoming them; and if it were
absolutely inevitable to give offence either to
one or to another person, the means of injuring
possessed by either at the time being or
prospectively in the future, had to be carefully and
sagaciously compared and balanced. And in a
state of society where every man from my lord
cardinal down to the vagabond, who was first
cousin to the laundress who washed for my lord
cardinal's valet, and every woman from the
princess of an all but sovereign house down to the
old hag on whose daughter one of his highness's
lawless free lances was known to cast an
eye of affection—all in every class and in every
degree sought to secure life, property, and
advancement not by their own merits or industry,
or the protection of the public law, but by
favour, privilege, and patronage — in such a
state of society these calculations and provisions
were complex and difficult matters, as will be
seen in the sequel of this true history.

No part of the difficulty which lay before
Vittoria's judicious father and anxious mother,
arose from lack of eligible candidates for their
daughter's favour. Suitors on all sorts of terms
came forward in abundance. To choose wisely
and prudently among them, was the point.
And the difficulty of the case was sadly increased
by a discordance of opinion between Vittoria's
papa and mamma. The case was as follows:
From among the crowd of pretendants, three
stood forward prominently as the most promising.
The first was Francesco Peretti, the favourite
nephew of poor quiet old Cardinal di Montalto.
The Perettis were poor, and not even noble.
What then had simple Francesco Peretti to offer,
that could justify him in dreaming of carrying
off a prize that princes and cardinals were
disputing? His personal qualifications may have
been high, or may have been none at all. Of
the many contemporary writers who have
expressly or incidentally mentioned the facts of
this history, no one has thought it worth his
while to advert even to such irrelevant
circumstances. But Francesco Peretti was the nephew
of the uncle; and it might well be that the
nephew of old Fra Felice (Friar Felix, as we
should say) would turn out to be the greatest
catch in all Rome. For all the world in the
Eternal City seemed to have made up their
minds that the decrepit old cardinal friar was
to be pope. And a pope's favourite nephew!
And such a pope; a meek old man used to the
quietest retirement, without worldly sense or
passion in him enough to resent the taking of
his cloak off his back! Why, it would be as
good as having the papacy itself for one's dower!
"And then, my dear Vittoria, it is your duty,
you know, to think of your family. There are
four brothers! God knows, it's little enough I
can do for them. But with the position that
such a marriage would place you in, there are
no limits—positively no limits to the hopes that
might open before all of us." It is true that
in catching Peretti, Vittoria was playing her
great stake for a bird not in the hand, but still
in the bush of the future. It was possible, after
all, that the Cardinal di Montalto might never
be pope. But, on the other hand, the Peretti
marriage was free from great risks and perils
which surrounded the union with another of the
trio of aspirants, who, out of all those that at
first entered their names, finally ran for the
plate.

All these things duly meditated and calculated,
papa Accoramboni declared himself
decidedly in favour of knocking down all that
desirable lot, with magnificent head of hair annexed,
lovely eyes, attractive form, brilliant accomplishments
laid on regardless of expense, &c. &c. &c.,
known by the name and title of Vittoria
Accoramboni to Francesco Peretti, as to the best
bidder.

But, as has been said, there was an unhappy
difference of opinion between the chiefs of the
Accoramboni councils. And while in reply to
Peretti's proposals, "papa said, yes! she may;
mamma said, no! she shan't!" For the female
imagination was dazzled by the brilliant magnificence
of the second candidate for her daughter's
hand. This was no less a man than the Italian
historical reader's old acquaintance Prince Paolo
Giordano Orsini! There was an offer! the head
of all the Orsini clan! the noblest family in
Rome! The owner of immense territories, and
so powerful, that popes themselves quailed
before him, and hesitated to put the law in execution
against him or his. Was such a son-in-law
to be for a moment compared to the obscure
nephew of an old monk, who might or might
not one day be pope? In this case the bird was
a bird in the hand, and not one in the bush; and
a bird of such dazzling plumage! The prince
was the man for the lady mother's money; and
if her word was worth anything, no trumpery
commoner should ever have her darling child,
&c. &c. &c.—a whole page of etceteras!

There were, however, some drawbacks to the
brilliant advantages of a union with the prince;