Let it be admitted that Sebastiano Pinzoni envenomed his master, then. But Herr Burckhardt brings no evidence to prove that he was connected with Duke Cesare; nor is it established that he was employed by His Excellency in any capacity, private, or official. But every crime of every criminal in the Borgian Era is attributed to Borgia as a matter of course; and Herr Burckhardt, writing serious history, introduces fiction, and passes off Sebastiano Pinzoni as Duke Cesare’s Poisoner! To turn from the historian to the novelist will afford a little recreation in this quest of the Venom of the Borgia; and, also, the diversion will not be unprofitable: for the novelist is an exceedingly important person by reason that he commands an infinitely wider audience than the historian, and influences, forms, or moulds, an infinitely larger section of opinion. M. Alexandre Dumas in his Crimes Célèbres has much to say about the Borgia. Knowing, as a practised hand, that the best fiction is that which has a substratum of fact and an air of truth, M. Dumas quotes the precious Messer Paolo Giovio and his _Cantarella_ which already has been mentioned here. Further, with a wealth of “corroborative detail calculated to give verisimilitude to an otherwise bald and unconvincing narrative,” he describes the preparation of a liquid venom which, he says, the Borgia used. A bear was caught and made to swallow a strong dose of arsenic. When this began to take effect, the bear was suspended by his hind-legs head-downward; and incontinent he would fall into convulsions, while from his throat there poured a copious deadly stream of foam, which was collected on a silver plate, bottled in vials hermetically sealed; and this was the liquid Venom of the Borgia. There were plenty of bears in the Apennines, perhaps, even in the Alban Hills within twenty miles of Rome; so the bear is probable enough. Having caught his bear, Duke Cesare would convey him to the Vatican—a large palace truly, but rather too full of people to be desirable as a private venom-factory. On a dark night in a lonely courtyard, the Pope’s Holiness and the Duke’s Excellency would administer the arsenic to the bear. The method of administration is not described, nor the slinging up of the beast prior to his convulsions, nor the picture of the aged Pontiff skipping round with the silver plate in His solicitude that no drop of the fluid should be lost, nor the solemn bottling of the vials, nor their hermetic sealing with what seal? The Ring of the Fisherman? And M. Dumas carefully omits to say that the nasty mess so secretly and arduously obtained would have been far less venomous than the original dose of arsenic; which, administered neat, without the intervention of an ill-used bear, certainly would have slain: but which would be deprived of most, if not of all, of its venomous potency, by its submission to the digestive processes of M. Dumas’ improbable and impossible bear.