personal ends to serve, yet their enterprise may be partly ascribed to
a more general reason. About this time Cola de' Montani, a humanist and
professor of eloquence, had awakened among many of the young Milanese
nobility a vague passion for glory and patriotic achievements, and had
mentioned to Lampugnani and Olgiati his hope of delivering Milan.
Suspicion was soon aroused against him: he was banished from the city,
and his pupils were abandoned to the fanaticism he had excited. Some
ten days before the deed they met together and took a solemn oath in
the monastery of Sant' Ambrogio. 'Then,' says Olgiati, 'in a remote
corner I raised my eyes before the picture of the patron saint, and
implored his help for ourselves and for all h* people.' The heavenly
protector of the city was called on to bless the undertaking, as was
afterwards St. Stephen, in whose church it was fulfilled. Many of their
comrades were now informed of the plot, nightly meetings were held in
the house of Lampugnani, and the conspirators practiced for the murder
with the sheaths of their daggers. The attempt was successful, but
Lampugnani was killed on the spot by the attendants of the duke; the
others were captured: Visconti was penitent, but Olgiati through all
his tortures maintained that the deed was an acceptable offering to
God, and exclaimed while the executioner was breaking his ribs,
'Courage, Girolamo! thou wilt long be remembered; death is bitter, but
glory is eternal.'

But however idealistic the object and purpose of such conspiracies may
appear, the manner in which they were conducted betrays the influence
of that worst of all conspirators, Catiline, a man in whose thoughts
freedom had no place whatever. The annals of Siena tell us expressly
that the conspirators were students of Sallust, and the fact is
indirectly confirmed by the confession of Olgiati. Elsewhere, too, we
meet with the name of Catiline, and a more attractive pattern of the