. Life and death : being an authentic account of the deaths of one hundred celebrated men and women, with their portraits . delirious, but in all hiswanderings his mind ever turned to the future welfare of his beloved early dawn on the 6th June, he imagined himself to be speaking as theKings minister in the Chamber of Deputies. His voice was clear andstrong, but his words and ideas were incoherent, and without meaning. Atfour oclock he became silent, and not long after his spirit fled. A yearbefore he had visited his ancestral home, the Castle of Santena, and had saidto the village sy
. Life and death : being an authentic account of the deaths of one hundred celebrated men and women, with their portraits . delirious, but in all hiswanderings his mind ever turned to the future welfare of his beloved early dawn on the 6th June, he imagined himself to be speaking as theKings minister in the Chamber of Deputies. His voice was clear andstrong, but his words and ideas were incoherent, and without meaning. Atfour oclock he became silent, and not long after his spirit fled. A yearbefore he had visited his ancestral home, the Castle of Santena, and had saidto the village syndic: Here I wish my bones to rest. He thought that aman should die in the faith of his ancestors and be buried with them. Hiswishes were respected, and the great statesman was laid to his rest at 195 196 A BOOK OF LIFE AND DEATH Santena. He died in the Catholic faith. He was born wealthy and of highlineage. His life was devoted to the unification of Italy, and when he diedhis work was practically accomplished. Authorities: Life by E. M. Caesaresco; C. de Mazadc; Dictionary of NationalBiography; History of Italy, ) lllC \ No. 90 The Death of Alfred de Vigny, French Poet. Born 1797. Died 1863. IN the latter part of his life he frequently alluded to an epitaph which hehad found mentioned in the correspondence of Lord Byron— Implorapace. Lord Byrons letter is as follows: To Mr. Hoppner, EnglishConsul at Venice. Bologna, 6th June 1819. I have discovered in thecemetery of La Certosa one, or rather I should say two beautiful one is Martini Luigi, implora pace, the other, Lucrezia Picinl,implora eterna quieta, and that is all. It seems to me, however, that in thesefew words is summed up all that could be said or thought on the subject,and the delicate sweetness of the Italian language lends to these sad wordsan exquisite melodiousness. Hope, doubt, humility, all are expressed: andperhaps it would be hard to find anything more delicately reserved andpa
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