this glaring excellence.
In the meantime there have been many and important changes in our arrangements. We have moved into a magnificent new house opposite the new Treasury building because the Prince found the Il Moro too cramped. Our retinue has increased by a further twelve: pages, blackamoors, footmen and so forth— everything is now on a grand scale. During your time here you complained of extravagance—but you should see it now!
Our private relations are the same as before—except that the Prince, no longer restrained by your presence, has become if anything more monosyllabic and colder towards us, and that we have little to do with him apart from the dressing and undressing. On the pretext that we speak French badly and Italian not at all, he is ableto exclude us from most of his gatherings, which for my part does not offend me greatly; but the truth of the matter as I see it is that he is ashamed of us—and that hurts me: we do not deserve it.
Almost the only one of our retinue he now makes use of (since you wish to know all the details) is Biondello, whom, as you know, he took into his service after our huntsman absconded and who has become quite indispensable to him in this new life he leads. The man is familiar with everything in Venice and knows how to put everything to good use. It is as if he had a thousand eyes and could set a thousand hands in motion, nothing less. He manages this with the help of the gondoliers, he says. He makes himself uncommonly useful to the Prince by letting him know meanwhile about all the new faces that appear in his gatherings; and the Prince has found the secret information he gives to be always correct. Furthermore he speaks and writes excellent Italian and French, as a result of which he has risen virtually to the position of the Prince’s secretary as well. I must, however, tell you about one trait of unselfish loyalty that is rare indeed in a person of his class. Recently a respected merchant from Rimini petitioned an audience with the Prince. The matter concerned a strange complaint about Biondello. The Procurator, his former master, who must have been an odd customer, had lived in irreconcilable enmity with his relatives, and this enmity was, if possible, supposed to outlive him, too. He had complete and exclusive faith in Biondello and would entrust him with all his secrets. Biondello must, moreover, have sworn on his master’s deathbed to keep these secrets religiously and never tomake use of them for the advantage of the relatives; for his silence he was to be rewarded with a considerable legacy. When his will was opened and his papers examined, large gaps and complications came to light that only Biondello could explain. He obstinately denied knowing anything, surrendered the very substantial legacy to the heirs and kept his secrets. The relatives made him large offers but to no avail; finally, in order to escape their persistence because they were threatening him to take legal proceedings against him, he entered the Prince’s service. It was to the Prince that the chief heir, this same merchant, now turned, making larger offers than those before if Biondello would change his mind. But the Prince’s intercession was likewise in vain. Biondello did in fact confess to him that such secrets really had been entrusted with him; he also did not deny that the dead man had perhaps gone too far in his hatred against his family. “But,” he added, “he was a good master to me and my benefactor, and died firmly trusting in my integrity. I was the only friend he left behind in the world—all the more reason why I cannot renege on his one hope.” He also let it be known that the disclosure of these secrets would not redound greatly to the honour of his dead master’s memory. Is this not a fine and noble thought? You can also well imagine that the Prince did not persist greatly in trying to make him waver in such a laudable attitude. This rare loyalty that he showed
In the meantime there have been many and important changes in our arrangements. We have moved into a magnificent new house opposite the new Treasury building because the Prince found the Il Moro too cramped. Our retinue has increased by a further twelve: pages, blackamoors, footmen and so forth— everything is now on a grand scale. During your time here you complained of extravagance—but you should see it now!
Our private relations are the same as before—except that the Prince, no longer restrained by your presence, has become if anything more monosyllabic and colder towards us, and that we have little to do with him apart from the dressing and undressing. On the pretext that we speak French badly and Italian not at all, he is ableto exclude us from most of his gatherings, which for my part does not offend me greatly; but the truth of the matter as I see it is that he is ashamed of us—and that hurts me: we do not deserve it.
Almost the only one of our retinue he now makes use of (since you wish to know all the details) is Biondello, whom, as you know, he took into his service after our huntsman absconded and who has become quite indispensable to him in this new life he leads. The man is familiar with everything in Venice and knows how to put everything to good use. It is as if he had a thousand eyes and could set a thousand hands in motion, nothing less. He manages this with the help of the gondoliers, he says. He makes himself uncommonly useful to the Prince by letting him know meanwhile about all the new faces that appear in his gatherings; and the Prince has found the secret information he gives to be always correct. Furthermore he speaks and writes excellent Italian and French, as a result of which he has risen virtually to the position of the Prince’s secretary as well. I must, however, tell you about one trait of unselfish loyalty that is rare indeed in a person of his class. Recently a respected merchant from Rimini petitioned an audience with the Prince. The matter concerned a strange complaint about Biondello. The Procurator, his former master, who must have been an odd customer, had lived in irreconcilable enmity with his relatives, and this enmity was, if possible, supposed to outlive him, too. He had complete and exclusive faith in Biondello and would entrust him with all his secrets. Biondello must, moreover, have sworn on his master’s deathbed to keep these secrets religiously and never tomake use of them for the advantage of the relatives; for his silence he was to be rewarded with a considerable legacy. When his will was opened and his papers examined, large gaps and complications came to light that only Biondello could explain. He obstinately denied knowing anything, surrendered the very substantial legacy to the heirs and kept his secrets. The relatives made him large offers but to no avail; finally, in order to escape their persistence because they were threatening him to take legal proceedings against him, he entered the Prince’s service. It was to the Prince that the chief heir, this same merchant, now turned, making larger offers than those before if Biondello would change his mind. But the Prince’s intercession was likewise in vain. Biondello did in fact confess to him that such secrets really had been entrusted with him; he also did not deny that the dead man had perhaps gone too far in his hatred against his family. “But,” he added, “he was a good master to me and my benefactor, and died firmly trusting in my integrity. I was the only friend he left behind in the world—all the more reason why I cannot renege on his one hope.” He also let it be known that the disclosure of these secrets would not redound greatly to the honour of his dead master’s memory. Is this not a fine and noble thought? You can also well imagine that the Prince did not persist greatly in trying to make him waver in such a laudable attitude. This rare loyalty that he showed
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