power to do so shows us the weak condition into which this indolent and voluptuous emperor had fallen.

France was given over to anarchy during the minority, and afterwards the insanity, of Charles VI.

England was distracted by the turmoils and seditions enacted during the reign of her fickle and unfortunate monarch Richard II.

Hungary, in consequence of civil wars, was losing all the influence the brave king Louis had gained for his country.

The House of Aragon, which had assumed considerable political standing under Peter IV., had sunk into insignificance in the hands of his indolent successor John; and Switzerland was struggling for freedom from the tyranny which had long oppressed her.

Thus we find all the nations of Europe, whether influential in their political relations or otherwise, fully occupied by their own intestine divisions, and but little capable of interfering with each other.

Civilisation may be said, in many respects, to have reached no very high standing, when moral culture and restraint were at so low an ebb. Men concealed under the gorgeousness of their costume, and the splendour of their entertainments, much that was coarse, barbarous, and contradictory.

Cimabue and Giotto had revived and improved the art of painting, which had been lost in Italy during the tenth and eleventh centuries; and at the time of this biography the whole country was filled with imitators and pupils of the latter artist, who had far outstripped his predecessor and master, Cimabue.

Ornamental art was carried to great perfection, and illumination is considered by some to have been in its zenith. The superior beauty and costliness of all articles used by ecclesiastics at this period, and in the century preceding, is remarkable. It shows us, perhaps, that the Church reformation, which was ere long to burst over Europe, had as yet no dawn in Italy, and that the priests exercised a peculiar power over the minds of the people.* We find the most elaborately decorated and costly chalices, pastoral staffs, candlesticks, reliquaries, sceptres, cups, &c. The priests' robes was most magnificent, and all books of religion were more carefully illuminated than those on other subjects.

It is true that the dress of the nobility, knights, and ladies of the fourteenth century was very rich. The materials were costly, and precious jewels were worn in profusion.

Ladies bored their ears, painted, tightened in their waists, and dyed their hair. We find satirists, even in those times, inveighing bitterly against the vanity of the age and the extravagance of dress. Armour was very splendid, and the workmanship good. Weapons consisted chiefly of lances, scimitars, pole-axes, &c. The art of gunnery was in its infancy. Engineers thought chiefly of the size of the ball to be discharged, and cared little how they expended gunpowder. Great patience had to be exercised, for they often missed their aim, and more frequently still, in spite of all their pains, the ball would obstinately refuse to be discharged, and both time and energy were wasted. The Venetians are supposed to be the first to have made use of the discovery of gunpowder in

The year 1376 gave birth to the Bohemian reformer John Huss, who was burned to death in 1415.

war at the siege of Chiozza, and the use of it was then greatly objected to, as being unfair and contrary to all rule. Unwieldy though their mortars were, and unskilful as was the management of them, still when they did succeed in striking the enemy by some lucky chance, the destruction created by these ponderous balls was prodigious. We are told that one of the mortars used by Pisani, in the war of Chiozza, carried a marble bullet weighing one hundred and ninety-five pounds. The loading and firing took so much time and care that it could only be effected once a day.

Animal courage was not wanting in those times of perpetual strife. Men loved fighting for its own sake; it was an accomplishment in which every knight and gentleman was skilled, and the tournament and joust made combat a pastime as well as a defence.

This love of fighting, though it was engendered in some measure by the disturbed state of the times, helped to prolong the civil wars and distractions which impoverished every land, and certainly retarded the progress of more diffused knowledge.

Whilst books were hard to obtain, and very costly, learning was naturally confined to few. National literature of the modern world was nevertheless beginning to spring up and bear fruit of the choicest kind. England had produced Chaucer, the father of her poetry; France had given birth to her famous historian Froissart, who was ere long to show forth his genius; and Italy could boast of her Dante, whose immortal poem was penned at the commencement of the fourteenth century. Petrarch had likewise poured forth his love sonnets, which were heard and admired by all; and his friend and brother poet Boccacio was famed at this same period, besides many minor authors, whose renown has scarcely penetrated beyond their own country.

Printing was not discovered in Germany till the middle of the following century, and until that art came into general use the privilege of reading was confined to those who could afford to purchase books, or who had access to public libraries. Petrarch presented his collection of books to the Venetians, and it served to form the basis of the valuable library of St. Mark. King Robert of Naples, the Marquis of Este, Giovanni Galeazzo, Duke of Milan, and a great many other sovereigns, expended large sums in collecting choice books, and thus Italy became very rich in libraries. Men of deep erudition and sound learning existed, to make use of the rare privilege of reading thus afforded to them by the rich, but after Dante's death and that of Petrarch there was a dearth of men of inventive genius. The admiration for the gems of past ages crippled men's imaginations, and they preferred being copyists to originators.

Theologians of merit were not rare in Italy, but no names were of sufficient importance to thrust themselves before the world.

The antagonistic factions of the Guelph and Ghibelin, which had played such conspicuous and yet intricate parts in history, still retained their ancient animosity to each other, though the heads of these factions had lost their influence over those who had originally formed themselves to defend their supposed rights.

The great schism in the Church, the removal of the papal chair to Avignon, and afterwards the absurd anomaly of having two popes, had weakened the pontifical influence in Italy; whilst the feebleness of the

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empire had effectually destroyed whatever power Germany might have had in Lombardy. Thus the factions of Guelph and Ghibelin were but shadows of what they had been, and the names rather distinguished personal antagonists than the champions of the Empire and of Rome.

We hear of the Emperor Robert forgetting party prejudices altogether, and aiding the Guelph house of Carrara and the Florentine republic.

Having now endeavoured to bring, as clearly as lies in my power, before my readers, the state of the north of Italy at the period when our biography commences, it is time to enter into more minute particulars, and for the better understanding of the position in which Francesco Novello da Carrara found himself when suddenly placed on the throne of Padua, let us turn for a moment, and see how his father had governed, and what had brought his little kingdom to such extremities.

Amongst the disputants of the north of Italy, none were more ambitious, none more cruel, than Francesco Vecchio, the father of the hero of these pages.

The natural position of his territory, in close proximity to that of Venice, made that republic jealous of him. He had always been the implacable enemy of the Venetians, and a subtle, annoying, though unsuccessful, enemy he proved himself to be.

Carrara, the elder, was of a designing, hard nature, incapable of compassion where it was for his interest to be cruel. His conduct whilst in power was so odious, that it takes from us all pity when we find him overwhelmed by adversities, dethroned, imprisoned, and at length murdered.

We may date the enmity between the Venetians and Carrara from the year 1356, when he afforded aid to Louis of Hungary whilst on an expedition against the republic, and from that time this antagonism was nourished by repeated intrigues and insults offered by either party to the other.

Francesco Vecchio has been accused of endeavouring, by unfair means, to become acquainted with the proceedings of the Venetian senators, and of insinuating his influence secretly into their councils. His spies were to be found everywhere, and they communicated daily to him all that had passed in the senate on the previous evening. A monk of St. Jerome, Bartolomeo by name, was one of his chief instruments, and through him many influential personages were won over to views most advantageous to the interests of Carrara.

Yet darker intrigues are laid to the charge of Francesco Vecchio, for it was whispered that he had formed the diabolical project of poisoning the reservoirs which supplied Venice with water. This may have been merely an invention of popular hatred; but one story is better authenticated. It seems that Carrara had a troop of bravoes in his employ, and one night he caused all the senators who had spoken against him and his policy to be carried off from their houses in gondolas, and conducted to Padua. Here he reminded them of the offensive words they had used, and threatened to put them to death.

Carrara did not execute this threat, but, repenting of his meditated cruelty, he promised to restore to them their liberty upon their taking a solemn oath never to divulge what had occurred. He then warned them not to perjure themselves, for that his revenge would be speedy. With

this terrible warning they were dismissed from his presence, and conducted back to Venice by night in the same mysterious manner that they had come. Several years elapsed ere the whole transaction was disclosed by the very bravoes who had been employed in the execution of the design. A woman of the name of Gobba, who kept the house where the bandits were in the habit of carousing, claimed the merit of having been the first to make the disclosures, and her life was spared in consequence, though she was thrown into prison for a term of ten years. Her son was hanged, and some of the minor conspirators, after having been tortured into a confession of their guilt, were torn in pieces by wild horses.

Such intrigues as these were well calculated to nourish the enmity between the contiguous powers of Padua and Venice. The republic doubled its guard for the protection of the city, and resolved to have ample compensation for the wrongs they had sustained. War broke out. The Paduans were attacked in the month of October, 1372, and solicited aid from the King of Hungary, who, to show that he remembered former favours, sent Stephen Laezk to the assistance of his ally. Unfortunately for Carrara, this general was taken prisoner, and the soldiers refused to fight under a strange commander. He was thus obliged to sign an ignominious treaty, in which he engaged to pay 230,000 ducats to the republic for the expenses of the war, and, what was still more humiliating to his pride, he was forced either to repair himself to Venice, or to send his son to implore forgiveness of the doge, and to promise fealty for the future.

Francesco Novello performed this last article of the treaty for his father, and was accompanied to Venice by the poet Petrarch, whose fame was then so great, that a vast concourse of people assembled to hear him make his address to the doge. The poet was so overcome by his feelings, that he was unable to utter a word on the occasion. The following day, however, he had greater command over himself, and spoke with ease and effect.

The humiliating act thus imposed was so galling to the pride of the Carraras, that it redoubled their animosity, and an alliance was soon after accepted with Genoa, in the hope of having an occasion to revenge the insult they had sustained.

The oath of fealty to Venice was forgotten as soon as uttered. Oaths lay very lightly on the Italian conscience in those days of civil war, and it is strange to think that antagonists should have put any trust in each other, knowing, as they must have done, how little such protestations were worth. Honour was a virtue talked of, but in practice it was considered somewhat too inconvenient to be necessary for a nobleman.

The chroniclers of the times speak of the most heinous and bloody crimes with an indifference which shows in what light they were regarded by society. The most horrible actions, when daily brought before our notice, lose the intensity of their colouring, and as crimes the most foul stained the conscience of almost every Italian noble of the fourteenth century, it was natural that what was so common should in no way be regarded with the abhorrence which would now be called forth by similar exhibitions of cruelty and intrigue.

Carrara perjured himself, and accepted the proposals offered to him by the Genoese.

The riches and power of Venice had excited the jealousy of many princes, and a coalition was formed against that republic, which resulted in the memorable war of Chiozza. A long and bloody siege took place, which was carried on with great skill upon both sides. The Genoese were victorious in the end, and the town of Chiozza was taken in the name of Carrara, according to an agreement in the treaty of alliance.

The consternation which the news of the success of their enemies caused the Venetians, was great. The people assembled around the palace of St. Mark and implored the seigniory to negotiate peace at any price, and thus to save the republic from utter annihilation. Three ambassadors were sent to Chiozza with full power to accept whatever conditions Francesco Carrara and Pietro Doria might think fit to impose. All overtures of peace were refused, however, and the Venetians, finding themselves menaced with total destruction, resolved to die bravely. The extremity in which they were placed gave them courage and energy. If they were to lose their liberty, they would not do so without a long and desperate struggle.

Vettor Pisani, who had been thrown into prison after the defeat he had sustained at Pola, was now loudly called for by his countrymen. The sailors had confidence in no other admiral; he must be set at liberty and restored to his former post. The seigniory were not willing at first to listen to the popular cry, but circumstances obliged their doing so, and Pisani was accordingly liberated and placed in a position of the utmost importance.

Francesco da Carrara commanded the land force of the opposing army, and so closely were the Venetians pressed, both by sea and land, that it was with difficulty they obtained provisions. The Genoese fleet suffered likewise from a want of sufficient supplies, and the war seemed likely to be a protracted one, as Pisani avoided any decisive engagement. His men were inexperienced, his fleet had only been formed a short time; he would therefore have risked too much in attacking a veteran such as the Genoese commander, who was sure of his men and of his vessels.

Pisani had recourse to the stratagem of sinking some barques at the entrance of the canals, so as to prevent the enemy from approaching too near the city, and behind this barricade he was able to carry on his preparations for the completion of his fleet. Slight skirmishes were perpetually taking place, from which the Genoese derived no benefit, whilst the Venetians had the advantage of gaining experience.

Pisani was anxious to gain time, but he was also desirous of driving off the Genoese without the help of Carlo Zeno, who was pursuing his victorious career in the Levant, but who had been ordered to return, that he might defend his country from a more dangerous enemy who threatened her freedom at home.

Whether Pisani's skill in naval tactics would have prevailed over superior numbers and discipline with the equal success which he had attained in warding off the final attack of the enemy seems very doubtful. The arrival of Carlo Zeno and his fleet, however, precluded all possibility of his showing his powers single-handed, and a fierce battle was fought, in which the Genoese were worsted, driven into Chiozza, and there be

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