Count Guidobaldo early became a cripple and an invalid, too ardent devotion to books and to athletic pursuits at the same time having undermined a constitution that was never strong; therefore, it was his custom to retire for the night at an early hour; but it was in the evening that the countess held court, and then were gathered together, for many years, all the brightest minds of Italy, who felt the charm of her presence and the value of her stimulating personality. Urbino was a school of good manners, as Naples had been in the days of Queen Joanna; it was the first great literary salon in modern history, and, presided over by a woman who was a veritable _grande dame de societe_, its influence was by no means confined to a narrow sphere. Even in far-away England, Urbino was known and appreciated; and Henry VII., to show his esteem for its ruler, conferred the Order of the Garter upon Guidobaldo. In acknowledgment of this favor, Castiglione was sent to the English court to bear the thanks of his lord, and with him he took as a present Raphael's _Saint George and the Dragon_, which, by the way, was taken from England when Cromwell ordered the sale of the art treasures of Charles I., and may now be seen at the Louvre. The old Count Federigo had made all this refined magnificence possible, it is true, and Guidobaldo had been in every way a worthy successor to his father, though lacking his rugged strength; but to Guidobaldo's wife, the gracious and wise Elizabetta Gonzaga, belongs the credit for having kept Urbino up to a high standard--an achievement of which few, if any, other women of her time were capable. There was needed a person who combined worldly knowledge with education and a sane, decent philosophy of life, and Guidobaldo's wife was that person.