of her bleeding son. This scene, which is perhaps a
genuine instance of what we may call the neo-Hellenism of the
Renaissance, finds its parallel in the 'Phoenissae' of Euripides.
Jocasta and Antigone have gone forth to the battlefield and found
the brothers Polynices and Eteocles drenched in blood:--

From his chest
Heaving a heavy breath, King Eteocles heard
His mother, and stretched forth a cold damp hand
On hers, and nothing said, but with his eyes
Spake to her by his tears, showing kind thoughts
In symbols.

It was Atalanta, we may remember, who commissioned Raphael to paint
the so-called Borghese Entombment. Did she perhaps feel, as she
withdrew from the piazza, soaking with young Grifonetto's blood,[6]
that she too had some portion in the sorrow of that mother who had
wept for Christ? The memory of the dreadful morning must have
remained with her through life, and long communion with our Lady of
Sorrows may have sanctified the grief that had so bitter and so
shameful a root of sin.

[1] Matarazzo's description of the ruffians who surrounded
Grifonetto (pp. 104, 105, 113) would suit Webster's
Flamineo or Bosola. In one place he likens Filippo to
Achitophel and Grifonetto to Absalom. Villano Villani,
quoted by Fabretti (vol. iii. p. 125), relates the street
adventures of this clique. It is a curious picture of the
pranks of an Italian princeling in the fifteenth century.

[2] Jacobo Antiquari, the secretary of Lodovico Sforza, in
a curious letter, which gives an account of the massacre,
says that he had often reproved the Baglioni for 'sleeping
in their beds without any guard or watch, so that they
might easily be overcome by enemies.'
[3] 'Quelli che li vidino, e maxime li forastiere
studiante assimigliavano el magnifico Messer Astorre cosi
morto ad un antico Romano, perche prima era unanissimo;
tanto sua figura era degnia e magnia,' &c. This is a touch
exquisitely illustrative of the Renaissance enthusiasm for
classic culture.

[4] Here his lordship received upon his noble person so
many wounds that he stretched his graceful limbs upon the
earth.

[5] 'And then the noble stripling stretched his right hand
to his youthful mother, pressing the white hand of his
mother; and afterwards forthwith he breathed his soul
forth from his beauteous body, and died with numberless