urteous manners, for valour, and for keenness of perception.
They were, moreover, distinguished by their love for and study of
philosophy; so that this city was ever a favourite dwelling-place for
the choice spirits of the Renaissance. It may also be asserted that Nola
was the only city of Magna Graecia which, in spite of the persecutions of
Pagan emperors and Christian princes and clergy, always preserved the
philosophical traditions of the Pythagoreans, and never was the sacred
fire on the altar of Vesta suffered to become entirely extinct. Such was
the intellectual and moral atmosphere in which Bruno passed his
childhood. His paternal home was situated at the foot of Mount Cicada,
celebrated for its fruitful soil. From early youth his pleasure was to
pass the night out on the mountain, now watching the stars, now
contemplating the arid, desolate sides of Vesuvius. He tells how, in
recalling those days--the only peaceful ones of his life--he used to
think, as he looked up at the infinite expanse of heaven and the
confines of the horizon, with the towering volcano, that this must be
the ultimate end of the earth, and it appeared as if neither tree nor
grass refreshed the dreary space which stretched out to the foot of the
bare smoky mountain. When, grown older, he came nearer to it, and saw
the mountain so different from what it had appeared, and the intervening
space that, seen from afar, had looked so bare and sterile, all covered
with fruit-trees and enriched with vineyards, he began to see how
illusory the judgment of the senses may be; and the first doubt was
planted in his young soul as he perceived that, while the mind may grasp
Nature in her grandeur and majesty, the work of the sage must be to
examine her in detail, and penetrate to the cause of things. When he
appeared before the tribunal of the Holy Office at Venice, being asked
to declare who and what he was, he said: "My name is Giordano, of the
family of Bruno, of the city of Nola, twelve miles from Naples. There
was I born and brought up. My profession has been and is that of
letters, and of all the sciences. My father's name was Giovanni, and my
mother was Francesca Savolini; and my father was a soldier. He is dead,
and also mother. I am forty-four years old, having been born in 1548."
He always regarded Nola with patriotic pride, and he received his first
instruction in his father's house and in the public schools. Of a sad
disposition, and gifted with a