Title:  The Duke’s Prize A Story of Art and Heart in Florence

Author:  Maturin Murray

Release Date:  January, 2004 [EBook #4956] [Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule] [This file was first posted on April 4, 2002]

Edition:  10

Language:  English

Character set encoding:  ASCII

*** Start of the project gutenberg EBOOK the duke’s prize ***

This eBook was edited by Charles Aldarondo (www.aldarondo.net).

THE DUKE’S PRIZE.

A story of art and heart in Florence.

By lieutenant Murray.

New York: 

PREFACE.

The scenes of the following story are laid in Italy, that land of the sun.  They are designed to impress a goodly moral, as well as to amuse the reader—­to show that patience and perseverance will conquer all things—­and that a poor coat may cover a rich heart.  The reader will find also herein, that love raises the humblest; and that true merit, like true genius, tramples upon misfortunes; and that “some falls are means the happier to rise.”

THE DUKE’S PRIZE.

CHAPTER I.

Florence.

Lend thy serious hearing to what I shall unfold.

-Hamlet.

Come with me, gentle reader, on the wings of fancy into the mild and genial latitude of the Tyrrhenian Sea.  The delightful region of the Mediterranean has been the poet’s ready theme for ages; then let us thitherward, with high hopes (and appreciating eyes) to enjoy the storied scenery of its shores.  Touch, if you will, at Gibraltar; see how the tide flows through the straits!  We go in with a flowing sail, and now we are at Corsica, Napoleon’s home.  Let us stop at Sardinia, with its wealth of tropical fruits; and we will even down to Sicily,—­for this mimic ocean teems with subjects to delight the eye even of the most casual observer, with its majestic boundary of Alps and Apennines, and the velvet carpet of its romantic shores, while its broad breast is dotted with the sails of the picturesque craft whose rig is peculiar to these seas.

It were worth the journey we have taken, if only to behold the curious maritime scene before us now-made up of the felucca, the polacre, and the bombard, or ketch all equally unknown in our own waters.

Well, on with us still; let us up again and new through the canal of Piombino, touching at the isle of Elba, the “Great Emperor’s” mimic domain; step into the town lying beneath this rocky bluff; which is crowned by a fort-it is Porto Ferrajo.  Look off for a moment from this rocky eminence, back of the town, and see the wild beauty of these Tuscan mountains on the main land.  Now, we will over to the Italian coast, and cross, if you will, from Leghorn to Florence.  There, we are now in the very lap of genius and of poetry; let us pause here and breathe the dreamy, soothing, balmy air of Italy.