THE WILL, OR THE HALF-BROTHERS.

THE conspiracy of the Conte Fiesco presents materials naturally at- tractive to the writer of fiction. The enterprise was great in its causes, singular in its conduct, and striking in its abrupt and utter frustration. In the middle of the sixteenth century, Andrea Doria, whose fame has survived the disasters of his latter years and is still preserved with filial reverence by the Genoese, had attained the zenith of his glory, and as- sumed almost monarchical power. By a mistake common to ambition, it was supposed that this power could be transferred to the next repre- sentative of his family, Giannettino, son of the great Doria's nephew. Neither the old man nor the younger perceived that Doria's power had been personally acquired, and was correlative with his services. Giannet- tino was bold, and might have rivalled his uncle had he lived; but before he had made any progress in that rivalry he far outran the old man in arrogance and assumption. His position as heir presumptive, therefore, offensive to those who still cherished the name of Republicans, was made still more odious by his personal qualities and bearing. Among the nobles of Genoa the most endowed with means and disposition to obtain influence, the most popular, and the most resentful of Giannettino's in- sults, was Luigi Fiesco, Count of Lavagna ; who undertook his extra- ordinary enterprise at the age of twenty-two. After he had been grossly insulted by Giannettino, had incurred more than one attempt at assassi- nation, and had expressed his resentment, he suddenly seemed to abandon political schemes, played the gallant absorbed in the cultivation of arts and gayeties, and thus succeeded in extinguishing the character that he had acquired as a dangerous man. By the exercise of what must have been extraordinary diligence and tact, he contrived to bring into his views

a vast army of conspirators, embracing all classes of the population, and so numerous, that when the conspiracy took effect, every part of the city was simultaneously possessed by the insurgents. Nevertheless, this im- mense preparation was made with such secrecy that Doria's Government was entirely taken by surprise. Giannettino was slain in one of the earliest encounters. The aged Doria escaped into the country, afterwards to return in triumph ; for the conspiracy broke down, through the death of Fiesco, at the very outset, by one of the most capricious accidents that ever marred human undertakings. If life were in nature what its counterfeit is on the conventional stage of the drama, the tale before us might be taken as a faithful paraphrase of the story. It may almost be said that criticism must per- force do it an injustice. It is amusing, dramatic, picturesque; the capa- bilities of the incidents have not been neglected ; the historical characters are brought out with fidelity and some vivacity. So much may be said in general terms. But upon a nearer scrutiny of the parts, the picture fails for want of solidity. The characters are not portrayed, but sketched. Some of the most striking incidents fall short in their effect from the slightness of the indication, and sink without prominence into the mass of context. It is as though the author had not allowed himself the time or trouble thoroughly to master and digest his materials, and so to repro- duce them in a complete shape ; but had hastily dressed them up to pass muster before the eye. While the main incidents are duly transferred from history, much probably as they happened, the connecting links of the narrative are crude, transparent, half-developed inventions. Con- spirators walk the stage with loud " asides " unheard. Young gallants brave the blade of the assassin or the sword of the assailant, unarmed, with as much audacity as the brave and amorous first tenor of an opera, and with as marvellous an impunity. The accessories have not been duly studied. The writer does not seem to be familiar with Italian. Even in the trifling matter of names he presents them in a strange hash of Italian, English, French, and Latin : thus, we have "Luigi and Giulia," "Andrew and Philip "; " Trivulcius," the "Marquis de Masse," and the "Place des Sauvages." The author puts the second person singular in the mouth of his speakers indifferently on solemn occasions : now that was never the language of ceremony in Italy : in older times, the second person plural was used; at the present day, it is the third person singular, "Vossigno- ria" [your Lordship] being understood. The turn of thought is Eng- lish, and the turn of language is the " What, ho ! tapster " style imputed by modern playwrights and novelists to the English gentry of the period. In their outward manifestations the characters are not Italian : a Genoese would disown them—" No sono Zenesi, ma Ingresi tutti."

There are more serious defects of accuracy in particulars. The love hero of the tale is a young Venetian nobleman, deprived of his rights by an elder brother, (the " half-brother,") whom the father had disinherited for his misconduct; the younger son thus becoming heir to the house of Verrina. This incident might do in England, but we doubt whether it ever happened in Venice. The laws relating to real property in that re- public were singular : in that, as in most other matters, individual inte- rests were merged in general interests. The property belonged not to the individual but to the family; and it could not be diverted from the due course of succession without the intervention of the Grand Council, that is to say, the whole body of the enfranchised nobles in Venice. 'Without venturing to talk about the niceties of the Venetian law on the subject, we believe the cardinal incident upon which the whole personal story of the will turns may be pronounced impossible.

In spite of these defects, the story, we say, is amusing. The characters are brought out sufficiently to cheat the willing sense and pass for living creatures. The narrative is rapid and varied ; and the whole passes on like a pleasant opera, too quickly for you to note improbabilities, or for the interest to flag. The writer who has done so well might have done much better with more pains.

One of the most successful characters in the book is that of Castrucci, a reputed magician ; whose supernatural feats are all "explained away," and are very ingeniously brought about. His unbidden appearance at a ban- quet given by the noble Lomellino is striking. He lectures the guests with oracular vaticinations and disclosures.

"'Not an hoar past,' he said, I was styled an impostor. I am here to vindi- cate my character and pray your attention, Signora.' None spoke. All silent?' he continued; then I may proceed. Signora, my tale, though brief, is in the eyes of some most important; and I will relate it plainly, craving your leniency, as I am no proficient in the art of narration. Two short years have passed since a wealthy noble of—we shall say Genoa—visited Rome, disguised as a merchant.' Doris turned his eyes, before averted, now full upon the speaker.' The Holy Father, it is said, likes not Andrew Dona. Perhaps that merchant's visit might have been thus private for the purposes of state policy; perhaps—'

"'Signor Lomellino; said [Giannettino] Dona.

" Nay, nay ; not now, my Lord,' continued Castrucci, in a tone that awed and commanded, for even Flaw, before whom the whole scene had previously seemed but a clever imposition, became interested; I must on. His visit was extended to weeks, then months. The objects of the state were disregarded; others occu- pied his attention, for during his stay one of the Roman maidens fell a victim to his fascination. Pare ere his arrival, the morning of his departure proclaimed his absence and her disgrace: she fled with him; resigned herself to his power, and, deluded by seeming love, never dreamt her betrayer the possessor of a wedded heart. My Lords, year judgment—the man was married 1' " ' He was a foul villain! exclaimed Fiesco, with generous warmth.

" What says my Lord Doria?' asked Castrucci, slowly rising from the table. ' He would speak before: let us hear him now.'

" ' Out, knave!' exclaimed Doria, angrily; out, or, by the Virgin, I'll dirty this blade with thy vile blood; and he laid his hand on his dagger.

" Then; said Castrucci, in a low tone, moving rapidly to Doria's side, and his words came hissing into his ear unheard by the others, the Roman loses her protector; the merchant and thou are one!' Doria sank pale on his seat. " Thou hest marvellous power,' said Verrina; ' my Lord Doria is convinced: what next?'

" Ha! I had almost forgotten. A word in thine ear, my noble Signor. Thou art of Venice; and he again sunk his voice into his peculiar whisper. ' Thy secret lives. The Grand Canal could not conceal it. Ho! some water; the Signor Verrina world drink.' Sigh nor This, this—' said Lomellino, terror-stricken.

" Thy turn next,' exclaimed Castrucci, interrupting him. ' Make gold by commerce, not—thou understandest me. Adieu, Signors and, moving to the door, he paused ere he reached it, and turned round to the party, all silent, all amazed. My_ Lord Fiasco, one word of advice. The path of ambition is strewed with perils. The chair of power is placed under the suspended sword.' And, opening the door, he was gone."

Lomellino secretly does business as a usurer ; and, partly in that ca- pacity, he obtains possession of papers relating to the Verrina property. The elder brother determines to steal them. At a banquet in the palace of the Fieschi, he makes the old noble heavy with wine, and afterwards breaks into Lomellino's palace, cutting open a window with his ring. Lomellino dreams, and wakes. A struggle ensues Lomellino is killed, and Verrina gets home with the papers undetected. Striking a light, he first examined the papers. They were the depositions of a young girl who had died in Genoa, and were witnessed by Adrasto di Vitelli, and Vincent Lomellino. They proved the existence of one great fact, which the Venetian dreaded.

" Adrasto di Vitelli I' he i repeated, thinking over the name. ' Who is he ? what is he ! Living or dead, or where s he ? ' These questions seemed more to disturb him than the event of the evening. The man thus represented rose before him a phantom full of terror, for it seemed that a witness still lived, perhaps a powerful witness. His crime was useless. Adrasto di Vitelli was in the way of

complete success. Even another copy of these depositions might be in his he and possession. Whilst these thoughts passed rapidly through his mind, he ex- amined the gold and jewels. The sum was great; the jewels, as far as he could judge, precious. His hands were cut and bloody; and, pouring water into a basin, he washed them, and threw the water on a soft plot of earth, under his chamber- window; and, fatigued, a slight remorse gradually stealing over him, he began to undress him. A sudden thought seized his mind—his ring was not on his hand!" Long time after, Verrina goes home one morning, and finds that the papers have been taken from his cabinet. His hand-bell summons a

servant.

" Mascardi, who visited here, this morning? " "I know not, Signor!"

"Some one was here, in this very room! No lies!—no deceit! I am right!" "Yea, Signor !" and the man paused and hesitated. "A stranger presented himself this morning. He demanded admittance to your private apartments." " You admitted him I" interrupted Verrina; and his countenance grew pale, while a sickly terror crept over his heart. " What next?"

" The servant did not answer. He grew paler than his master; his features were moved as if by some internal struggle, and then he stood still as a statue, the image of mute, motionless terror. " Villain !" shouted Verrina, fiercely clutching his arm: "who was here? what his business? why was he admitted ? " "He presented your own signet ring, Signor, and said you had sent him I " " The Venetian felt his blood flow cold and fanguid through his veins, as if the channels were lined with ice. His heart beat violently—a racking pain pierced through his brain. His signet ring He had lost it on the night of Lomellino's death. "The name of this visitor ?"

"Castrucci 1"

The eventful second of January 1547 had arrived : the leading con- spirators with the body of the forces assemble and arm in Fiesco's pa- lace ; and at night they issue forth. "In a few minutes after his first instruction, the palace was deserted by all save himself, its female inmates, and the garrison ordered to watch over them;

while the even steady tread of the men, as they departed through the various streets, was becoming every moment fainter and fainter, until it was lost in the distance, and not a sound disturbed the silence of the palace. "It was one of those calm, tranquil nights, this second of January—dark and starless, yet so hushed and silent, that not a breath of air was felt, for the atmosphere was thick, warm, and impervious. Sound seemed to be lost in the dead silence that hung over the city of Genoa. The sky above was black—one thick mantle of darkness, unbroken by a single ray of light, not relieved by even a change of colour, far the clouds were joined together in one dense, compact mass —impenetrable and gloomy. The inhabitants slept in security; the city was buried in the most profound repose; and at the late hour in which Fiends asso-

ciates marched out, parties of pleasure, or meetings for business, had long ceased, and each man had journeyed to his own home. But suddenly this repose was broken: wild shouts filled the still air; the sound of arms, the discharge of pe trends and arquebuses; and, above all, the powerful cry of Fiesco and Liberty!' rung through the city, alarmed all, startling and dismaying the timorous, en- couraging the disaffected, astonishing the Count's partisans, and spreading terror

and confusion on all sides." -

The city is taken : Fiesco seizes the vessels in the port; and, standing on the deck of a galley, the chief knows that victory is within the grasp of the conspirators. " Stop!" exclaimed Fiesco; for, just as Verrina began to speak, a wild confused shout, a terrible uproar succeeded the calm of the victory. ' By the saints I that noise comes from the Admiral's galley. These knaves may mutiny and release him I Guard thou here, and I will see to this uproar ": and, hastily quitting the Venetian's side, he passed across the galley by a small foot-board, reached the side of another vessel that lay contiguous to the one from whence came the noise, and was placing his foot upon another plank, when, in the excitement of his baste, the board slipped—he tottered—it steadied for an instant, then fell into the water, carrying him along with it. Rapidly he clutched at a rope—caught it.—and found that, unable to bear his weight, loaded as he was with armour and weapons, it broke above his bead. He shouted; but the quickness with which he fell down into the water stifled his voice, and his cries died away on the surface of the sea. Violently, furiously, he struggled with his awful destiny; and could see the lights flash across the gallies, could hear the voices, and discern the figures; but none

either heard or saw him. • • "He shrieked wildly, " Help ! I drown I I—help !"

"By heavens ! " said Vernna, who had separated from him, and had now re- turned after quelling the disturbance amongst the galley-slaves, "that sounds like Fiesco's voice ! " But, afraid to raise any foolish/alarm, he sprang forward in the di • rection of the sounds, and gained the side of the galley from which Fiesco had fallen. But now the water was still and unmffied; there was no sound, no voice, not a speck below to inform him that any had fallen there; for the Count's expiring effort had reached his ear. The next moment, be bad sank to rise no mote M life."