ly, most of them had met with spirits of Bruno's
stamp, whom they had not time or opportunity to prove. He was one among
a hundred interesting foreigners; and his martyrdom had not as yet set
the crown of glory or of shame upon his forehead. They probably accepted
him as London society of the present day accepts a theosophist from
Simla or Thibet. But his real home at this epoch, the only home, so far
as I can see, that Bruno ever had, after he left his mother at the age
of thirteen for a convent, was the house of Castelnau. The truest chords
in the Italian's voice vibrate when he speaks of that sound Frenchman.
To Mme. de Castelnau he alludes with respectful sincerity, paying her
the moderate and well-weighed homage which, for a noble woman, is the
finest praise. There is no rhetoric in the words he uses to express his
sense of obligation to her kindness. They are delicate, inspired with a
tact which makes us trust the writer's sense of fitness.[96] But Bruno
indulges in softer phrases, drawn from the heart, and eminently
characteristic of his predominant enthusiastic mood, when he comes to
talk of the little girl, Marie, who brightened the home of the
Castelnaus. 'What shall I say of their noble-natured daughter? She has
gazed upon the sun barely one luster and one year; but so far as
language goes, I know not how to judge whether she springs from Italy or
France or England! From her hand, touching the instruments of music, no
man could reckon if she be of corporate or incorporeal substance. Her
perfected goodness makes one marvel whether she be flown from heaven, or
be a creature of this common earth. It is at least evident to every man
that for the shaping of so fair a body the blood of both her parents has
contributed, while for the tissue of her rare spirit the virtues of
their heroic souls have been combined.'[97]

[Footnote 96: _Op. It._ vol. i. p. 267.]

[Footnote 97: _Loc. cit._ p. 267.]

It was time to leave these excellent and hospitable friends. 'Forth from
the tranquil to the trembling air' Bruno's unquiet impulse drove him. He
returned to Paris at the end of 1585, disputed before the Sorbonne with
some success of scandal, and then, disquieted by the disorders of the
realm, set out for Germany. We find him at Marburg in the following
year, ill-received by the University, but welcomed by the Prince. Thence
we follow him to Mainz, and afterwards to Wittenberg, where he spent two
years. Here he conceived a