The words of Gianluigi powerfully moved his guests. They enthusiastically offered to share the perils of the enterprise. Two, Giovanni Battista Cattaneo-Bava and Giovanni Battista Giustiniano, alone refused to take arms; not because they dissented from the views of Fieschi, but because they trembled at the sight of muskets and sabres. Some of their companions drew their daggers and wished to assassinate the cowards on the spot; but Gianluigi interposed and contented himself with confining them under guard to prevent their revealing the conspiracy. This is a new proof of the count’s unwillingness to shed blood.
Fieschi then placed, one by one, under the eyes of his companions the letters of Pierluigi, of cardinal Farnese and of others, which clearly showed that Gianettino aspired to royal state and, as if already mounted to a throne, was planning the death of the count. A cry of indignation burst from the whole company and all swore to liberate the country and the count from the plots of the common enemy.
Fieschi then visited his wife whom he found immersed in the most profound sorrow. The military preparation, the clang of arms and the crowd filling the palace had too clearly revealed to her that a bloody enterprise was on foot. He tried to console her, told her for the first time the long history of his conspiracy and assured her that no danger lay before him. But Eleonora strove to change his audacious purpose. She kissed him, she hung upon his neck and exhausted her affectionate acts to bend his resolute will. Pansa entered at that moment and he, too, tried to divert him from the undertaking; but with no better success than the countess Eleonora. Fieschi embraced his beloved spouse whose tears moved his heart to profound pity; but his preparations were made, and if he had wished it there was no place for retreat. When the stern voice of Verrina called him from her arms, the tears disappeared in an instant from his eye-lashes; the husband vanished and only the conspirator remained. Eleonora fell lifeless into the arms of Pansa.
The count returned to the hall, ordered a frugal meal and then distributed the arquebuses, pikes, spears, swords and coats of mail. There was a story that at that moment the soot of the chimney caught fire and that the cries of the countess filled the heart of the count with painful forebodings. There were other fables; that a flock of birds rising from the garden below flew off to the left, that during the day his horse stumbled and nearly threw him from his saddle, that a dog bayed long and mournfully, that setting his foot carelessly on the threshold of his palace as he went out he nearly fell down. They tell us that Calcagno, who was at his side at this moment, said to him that according to the ancients sinister presages usually foretold success, and then the count recovered his spirits and drawing his sword said:—“Let us go,” leading the way to the street.
Thus far we have in these fables only the mania for classic imitation which bewildered the historians of Gianluigi, and led them to underrate his courage. Now come the calumnies. We are told that the count ordered that whosoever moved from the ranks or hesitated should be run through; that being asked on the way by a noble, who wished to save some friend, whether all the nobility were to be butchered, he answered that all should be slain beginning from his own nearest relatives. It is clear that these romancers destroyed all confidence in their veracity by such exaggeration.
To disprove their partial statements it is only necessary to say that Gianluigi himself had prevented the assassination of the two nobles who had refused to follow him. He forbade an attack on the palace of Prince Doria, and would not even consent that Sebastiano Lercaro should be killed, though he knew that this person had accepted the commission of Gianettino to assassinate himself.
Having drawn up his ranks and exhorted the men to prefer a glorious death to preserving their lives by cowardice, he sent off one hundred and fifty infantry to occupy the Borgo de’ Lanieiri, and marched down the descent of San Leonardo followed by the gentlemen and by the select part of his troops. The hour was about midnight.