h after sentence were strangled before
they were burnt. And why was Bruno allowed a week's grace before his
execution, except to give him the opportunity of recanting? Despite
all this Jesuitical special pleading, the fact remains that Bruno
was sentenced and burnt as an incorrigible heretic; and the fact also
remains that when the crucifix was held up for him to kiss as he stood
amidst the flames, he rejected it, as Scioppus wrote, "with a terrible
menacing countenance." Not only did he hurl scorn at his judges, telling
them that they passed his sentence with more fear than he heard it; but
his last words were that "he died a martyr and willingly"--_diceva che
moriva martire et volontieri_.

Bruno is further charged by the Scotch libeller with servility, an
accusation about as plausible as that Jesus Christ was a highwayman. A
passage is cited from Bruno's high-flown panegyric on Henry III. as "a
specimen of the language he was prepared to employ towards the great
when there was anything to be got from them." Either this writer is
ineffably ignorant, or his impudence is astounding. In the first place,
that was an age of high-flown dedications. Look at Bacon's fulsome
dedication of his _Advancement of Learning_ to James I. Nay, look at
the dedication of our English Bible to the same monarch, who is put
very little below God Almighty, and compared to the sun for strength
and glory. In the next place, Bruno's praise of Henry III. was far
from mercenary. He never at any time had more than bread to eat. He was
grateful to the King for protection, and his gratitude never abated.
When Henry was in ill repute, Bruno still praised him, and these
panegyrics were put into one of the counts against "the heretic" when he
was arraigned at Venice.

The last libel is extorted from Bruno's comedy, _Il Candelajo_. The
Scotch puritan actually scents something obscene in the very title; to
which we can only reply by parodying Carlyle--"The nose smells what it
brings." As for the comedy itself, it must be judged by the standard of
its age. Books were then all written for men, and reticence was
unknown. Yet, free as _Il Candelajo_ is sometimes in its portrayal of
contemporary manners, it does not approach scores of works which are
found "in every gentleman's library." It certainly is not freer than
Shakespeare; it is less free than the Song of Solomon; it is infinitely
less free than Ezekiel. Nor was the comedy the work of Bruno's maturity