According to the old Mantuan chronicles the Gonzagas were of a royal German line, and had fixed themselves in the Mantuan territory in 770 where they built a castle beyond Po, and began at once to take part in public affairs.  They had now grown to be a family of such consequence that they could not be offended with impunity, and it was a great misfortune to the Bonacolsi that Francesco happened to covet Filippino Gonzaga’s wife.  As to the poor lady herself, it is of infinite consequence to her eternal health whether she was guilty or no, but to us still on earth, it seems scarcely worth while to inquire, after so great lapse of time.  History, however, rather favors the notion of her innocence; and it is said that Francesco, unable to overcome her virtue, took away her good fame by evil reports.  At the same time he was greatly wroth—­it is scarcely possible to write seriously of these ridiculous, wicked old shadows—­that this lady’s husband should have fallen in love with a pretty concubine of his, Bonacolsi’s; and, after publicly defaming Filippino’s wife, he threatened to kill him for this passion.  The insult and the menace sank deep into the bitter hearts of the Gonzagas; and the head of that proud race, Filippino’s uncle, Luigi Gonzaga, resolved to avenge the family dishonor.  He was a secret and taciturn man, and a pious adulator of his line has praised him for the success with which he dissembled his hatred of the Bonacolsi, while conspiring to sweep them and their dominion away.  He won over adherents among the Mantuans, and then made a league with Can Grande of Verona to divide the spoils of the Bonacolsi; and so, one morning, having bribed the guards to open the city gates, he entered Mantua at the head of the banded forces.  The population was roused with patriotic cries of “Long live the Mantuan people!” and, as usual, believed, poor souls, that some good was meant them by those who came to overthrow their tyrants.  The Bonacolsi were dreaming that pleasant morning of anything but ruin, and they offered no resistance to the insurrection till it burst out in the great square before the Castello di Corte.  They then made a feeble sally from the castle, but were swiftly driven back, and Passerino, wounded to death under the great Gothic archway of the palace, as he retreated, dropped from his languid hands the bridle-rein of his charger and the reins of that government with which he had so long galled Mantua.  The unhappy Francesco fled to the cathedral for protection; but the Gonzagas slew him at the foot of the altar, with tortures so hideous and incredible, that I am glad to have our friend, the advocate Arrighi, deny the fact altogether.  Passerino’s brother, a bishop, was flung into a tower to starve, that the Picos might be avenged; and the city of Mantua was liberated.