The central Presbyterian. [volume] (Richmond, Va.) 1856-1908, 1882-01-04

the Muses-there Pegasus is bounding
from the summit of the hill, whence also
llmped stream starts. That temple of
elegant architecture is consecrated to the
graces This rude grottp covered with
moss, forms shelter from the storm-to
such cave Dido and H retreated.
A ray of light piercing the rocky ceiling
enables us to distinguish the verses Of
Virgil carved on the marble.
Over this magnificent royal retreat,
however, hangs the pail OF crime which
terminated at once the existence of Fran
cesco Medici and his beautiful wife,
Those who love the marvellous have col
lected thousand fables on the subject,
but the problem remains unsolved.-
Whatever the facts may have been, it is
known that the Cardinal de Medici had
always been the enemy of Blanca Capello,
the lovely Venetian, and that he never
pardoned her brother for the mesalliance.
A story is indeed told that the Grand
Duchess prepared a pastry poison with
which she resolved to avenge herself
upon the Cardinal. The Grand Duke,
however, returning hungry from the
chase, unluckily found and ate large
quantity of this deadly preparation.
Blanca, desperate at the idea Of having
poisoned her husband, resolved to share
has fate, and the poison taking effect in
both instances, they died in inexpressible
tortures, without the cardinal permitting
any one, as it is said, to afford them sue
cor, which circumstance has made him
pass as the author Of this calamity. The
latter is probably nearer the truth of the
matter.
Thus the sun of the Medicean glory
went down forever in the reddened glare
of murder. Luxury had given birth to
splendid progeny of art, but like Saturn,
ended by devouring her offspring. The
sale-room, or the sovereigh's pleasure, no
longer furnished inspiration sufficient to
feed the artist-genius. Francesca could
display to inquisitive guests the palace
of Pratolino, and boast Of the sums ex-
pended on its art, but the splendid light
which had Illuminated Europe began
now to fade in the dearth of aliment.
The school of Raphael was dispersed
the death of Michael Angelo had left
void which it was impossible to fill. The
arts still fourished, but it was only in
appearance. No want Of ready and in
genious talent, but gallantig, and pleasure
ol0ne inspired The hand o Jne artist
and the master2age was pet.
Pratollno is a monument OF this period
OF Tuscan decadence. URtenanted, it is
now melancholy spectacle. The vast
apartments, the long galleries formerly
ornamented with pictures and rich hang
ings, now onl y display the nakedness of
uncovered walls. The mosaic payements
are covered with dust, and the wind sobs
through the broken easements. In the
garden walks briars are growing, and
sometimes the path is choked with the
branches Of some great pine which has
been struck by lightning. The walls are
crumbling away, and in the midst of the
dislointed statues parasitic plants spring
up and tasten their claspihg fingers, COW
ering them with sombre verdure. The
virgin vine climbing round the columns
mlngles It's tight garlandd with the ara
besque ornaments which run along the
friezes, and which are limitations Of this
natural decoration. Moses and lichen
are covering down out ofsight what man
appears to have been folced to respect.
Everywhere art is yielaing to nature.
having nothing here to oppose her but
her own us iaertioe.
Such is the history Of the Tuscan Pal
ace Of Pleasure, and sucl its termination
everywhere and in all human experience.
The art which lends Itself to mere pleas
ure becomes palsied with weakness and
peerishes for lack of any immortal princi-
pie within it. The life that gives itself
only to pleasure will p;obably end in
tragedy, and leave naught but ruin
great sad memory behind.
L. M. @.