454 THE LIFE AND LETTERS OF POPE PIUS II. 



to no son of iron or of stone in me. I am not of the number of the frigid 

 I am no hypocrite, anxious to appear better than I really am. I confess my 

 error ingenuously, because I am neither a greater saint than David, nor wiser 

 than Solomon. The offence is an old one, and I know not who has escaped 

 it. Remember how gay a bird you have been yourself. But you will 

 tell me, I suppose, that there are certain bounds to be set to this ap- 

 petite; 'tis most true, and yet the crime often breaks through the 

 bars of matrimony. There are too, certain bounds to drinking and eating, 

 and talking ; but who keeps within them ? The hypocrite asks, who is so 

 just as not to fall seven times a day, and boasts that he is himself conscious 

 of no fault ; but I am sensible of no merit in myself; piety alone gives me 

 hopes of mercy, for I know that all are weak and prone to fall. 



As you are, however, so anxious to be assured that you are not bringing 

 up the child of another person as mine, I will briefly relate to you how this 

 came to pass. Two years have hardly passed since I discharged the office of 

 orator at Strasburg, where, idling for some days, a woman arrived from 

 Britain, and put up at my hotel. She was neither unhandsome nor over 

 old. Being excellently versed in Italian, she addressed me in the Tuscan 

 dialect, which was the more grateful, as in that country it is not commonly 

 spoken. I was delighted with the conversation of this woman, from whose 

 lips fell the greatest grace and wit. Presently I began to think of the elo- 

 quence of Cleopatra, who ensnared not only Anthony, but the great Julius 

 Caesar ; and who, I asked myself, shall condemn an humble individual like 

 me, should I act as other great men have not disdained to do ? I adverted 

 sometimes to the example of Moses ; sometimes of Aristotle, and referred to 

 us Christians. But what need of more ! desire triumphed. I burned with love 

 of this woman, and appealed to her with every blandishment. But she 

 despised my addresses, as the rocks repel the waves, and for three days 

 would not see me. Knowing that she was to go away in the morning/ I 

 could not make up my mind to let the game escape. I spoke to her again ; 

 I entreated her not to fasten the bolt of her chamber ; I assured her I would 

 come at the very stillest hour of the night. Still she denied me, and gave no 

 hopes of success. Every one went to bed. For my part, I sat down and 

 began to think whether she would leave the door open, as I insisted, or not. 

 At last, having turned over in my mind all sorts of adventures of the same 

 sort, I said to myself, I must make the attempt, and finding every thing quiet 

 in the house, I drew near the chamber; the door was shut, but not 

 bolted, I entered. and thus it was I became a father. I did not know of her 

 being in the family way, until, being at Base, I met with her again. For 

 some time I thought that her object was money. But now that I can 

 really certify that she looks for nothing from me, and the name and time 

 correspond, I think the child belongs to me. I therefore beg of you, father, 

 to adopt him, and to rear him up until he grows big enough to return to me, 

 and I can attend to his education. Above all, rest assured, that his mother 

 has founded no hopes of fortune upon the birth of this child." 



Our next extracts we shall choose for the sake of contrast. At this 

 time of his life, it is evident that piety did not sit with half the natural 

 grace that gaiety did upon our future Pope. 



" ^Eneas Sylvius, Imperial Poet, to the Reverend Father in Christ, Bartho- 

 meus, Bishop of Navara, 



" Greeting. Many and countless are the benefits I have received from 

 you ; nor could I make a condign return for them, even though a thousand 

 years of life were granted me : all, however, that is in my power, I shall not 

 fail to perform. Nothing is more precious than the soul. We should care 

 for it and cultivate it beyond all things ; aught else is deciduous, transitory, 

 mortal but that lives for ever. If we have good care of it, we shall taste 

 through it of eternal joys j if we neglect it, of pains. Lead by these 



