CHAPTER X.
VITTORIA DI COLONNA.
"Vittoria e 'l nome; e ben conviensi a nata Fra le vittorie, ed a chi, o vada o stanzi, Di trofei sempre e di trionfi ornata, La Vittoria abbia seco, o dietro o innanzi. Questa e un' altra Artemisia, che lodata. Fu di pieta verso il suo Mausolo; anzi Tanto maggior, quanto e piu assai bel opra Che por _sotterra_ un nom, trarlo _di sopra_."
Ariosto. _Orlando_, xxxvii., 18.
Costanza, the young and beautiful Duchess of Francavilla, had, at thebeginning of the century, the fortress of the little island of Ischiacommitted to her charge. This young widow had sense, goodness, courage,rare prudence, energy, and fidelity; or Ischia, the key of the kingdom,and more than once a royal asylum, would never have been entrusted toher keeping.
She was not only guardian of the castle and island, but of her infantbrother, Ferdinand, Marquis of Pescara. In his fifth year, the littlefellow was betrothed to the baby Vittoria Colonna, of the same age, whowas thenceforth consigned to the Duchess Costanza, to be educated withher future husband; and the little _promessi sposi_ might be seenstraying about together, hand in hand, sharing their sweetmeats andplay-things, and now and then having a little fight.
"Let dogs delight," however, was so strenuously inculcated by theDuchess, that reciprocal forbearance soon cemented their affections. TheMarquis was taught that he must reserve kicks and blows for his futureenemies, and Vittoria that she must learn to bind up wounds rather thaninflict them. And so they chased butterflies, gathered flowers, andhunted for strawberries together, themselves the prettiest blossomsthat ever floated on summer air.
"Ah, lovely sight! behold them,--creatures twain, Hand in hand wandering thro' some verdant alley, Or sunny lawn of their serene domain, Their wind-caught laughter echoing musically; Or skimming, in pursuit of bird-cast shadows, With feet immaculate the enamelled meadows."
"Tiptoe now stand they by some towering lily, And fain would peer into its snowy cave; Now, the boy bending o'er some current chilly, She feebler backward draws him from the wave, But he persists, and gains for her at last Some bright flowers, from the dull weeds hurrying past."[12]
[12] Aubrey de Vere. "A Tale of the Olden Time."
And thus the little betrothed led charmed lives, sporting and caressing,in the intervals of learning hymns and legends and listening to theDuchess's fairy tales.
She also taught them a good deal of history by word of mouth, so thatthey came to be quite as conversant with Romulus and Remus, Curtius andHoratius Cocles, as with giants and dwarfs. Then came the conning ofthe criss-cross row, duly followed by the Latin accidence, eachrivalling and yet helping the other. Learned tutors and gifted artistsgave the Duchess their aid; and thus the tranquil days glided on tillthey were nineteen; the bloodshed and anarchy which distracted unhappyItaly never troubling this charmed islet.
Bishop Berkeley said of Ischia, in a letter to Pope: "'Tis an epitome ofthe whole earth! containing within the compass of eighteen miles awonderful variety of hills, vales, rugged rocks, fruitful plains, andbarren mountains, all thrown together in most romantic confusion. Theair is, in the hottest season, constantly refreshed by cool breezes fromthe sea; the vales produce excellent wheat and Indian corn, but aremostly covered with vineyards, interspersed with fruit trees. Besidesthe common kinds, as cherries, apricots, peaches, &c., they produceoranges, limes, almonds, pomegranates, figs, water-melons, and manyother fruits unknown in our climate, which lie everywhere open to thepassenger. The hills are the greater part covered to the top with vines;some with chesnut groves, and others with thickets of myrtle andlentiscus."
During this interval, Pescara had grown up into a strikingly handsomeand interesting youth. His hair, says Giovio, was auburn, his noseaquiline, his eyes large and expressive; alternately flashing withspirit and melting with softness. Vittoria worshipped him; and this wasso artlessly manifest that Pescara grew a little arrogant upon it. Shewas a lovely blonde, with regular features, blue eyes, and hair of thattint which Petrarch described as "chioma aurata," and which Galeazzo daTarsia, one of her poet-lovers, called "trecce d'oro." The Spanishpainter, Francesco d'Olanda, spoke of her rare beauty; and MichaelAngelo felt its powerful though innocent spell when, after their tenderleave-taking on her death-bed, he regretted that he had not kissed hercheek instead of her hand.
Vittoria's father, in spite of his grand, historic name, was but acondottiere or captain of free lances, whose business and pleasureconsisted in bloodshed and rapine. He dwelt perched up in an oldancestral castle overlooking a gloomy little walled town on a steephill-side, from whence he and his men would now and then sweep down todevastate the property of his neighbours, much in the style of our ownborder chiefs. It was his son Ascanio, Vittoria's brother, who made waron Giulia, and seized her castles.
Thus, Vittoria, the daughter and sister of fighting men, was ready toadmire and sympathize in the martial ardour of Pescara, which would havehad something respectable in it, had any one fought in those days forany grand principle.
At nineteen, the betrothed were married. Of course there was muchrejoicing, much feasting; chroniclers record the homages Vittoriareceived from rich relations, in the shape of diamond crosses, diamondrings, "twelve golden bracelets," &c., and recount the crimson velvetgowns fringed with gold, the flesh-coloured silk petticoats trimmed withblack velvet, the purple brocaded mantles and so forth, composing herwardrobe, which doubtless exemplified the height of the fashion of thetime.
After the great stir was a great calm: two years ensued of perfectmarried happiness. Then the young Marquis was summoned to the field; nordid Vittoria seek to withhold him from the call to arms. The King ofSpain was also King of Naples, so of course Pescara fought on theSpanish side: but the French were victorious at Ravenna, where he wastaken prisoner, after receiving some wounds in the face, which, theDuchess of Milan told him, only made him the better-looking.
He charmed his captivity by addressing to his wife a Dialogue on Love,full of the studied conceits of the time. Vittoria sent him a poeticalepistle, full of tenderness and classicality. Playing on her own name,she said:--"Se Vittoria volevi, io t'era appresso. Ma tu, lasciando me,lasciasti lei."
"If victory was what you wanted, _I_ was by your side. But, leaving_me_, you lost _her_."
One day, when she was with tearful eyes, inditing a sonnet to him, lo,Pescara himself suddenly stood before her! He had been released onpaying a heavy ransom: she looked on him as "un gran capitano."
Before their happiness could pall, he was off again, to win new laurels.He had, indeed, bravery worthy of some good cause; but he was a stern,inflexible commander: and in doing justice, he sometimes lost sight ofmercy.
Pescara supplied his wife with an occupation during his absence, bysending her a young boy to educate; a little cousin of his own, theMarquis del Vasto; beautiful as a Cupid, but the naughtiest little Turk!
In a little while, Vittoria could guide him with a rein of silk. It isexcellent woman's work to train boys. It is well to talk to them andlisten to them a good deal; tell them your own plans and air-castles;hear all about theirs; help them in little matters and get them to helpyou in yours; ask their opinion sometimes, and suggest rather thanintrude your own. Long walks together inevitably lead to long talks:little things occur in which the boy may aid the woman as if he were aman; though it be but to help her across a brook or over a stile.
Del Vasto soon adored Vittoria, and as she was a good classic, hefeared her detection of false quantities, and yet would often come toher for help, sure of obtaining it. He burned to be a hero like Pescara:they both thought him quite up to Achilles. But Vittoria was to learnher idol was made of clay.
They met once more--they spent three days together, without knowing theywere not to see each other again. He hurried back to take the lead in abrilliant but cruel campaign. It included the battle of Pavia. Robertsoncalls Pescara the ablest and most enterprising of the Imperial generals;and
certainly he divided with Lannoy the merit of this victory, whichcaused the captivity of two kings, and changed the fate of Europe.
Pescara thought himself injured, in having Francis the First taken outof his hands; and his known pique on the subject made a certainpolitical party, with the Pope for its real, and a man named Morone forits ostensible head, think they might perhaps detach him from theSpanish interest--in other words, make a traitor of him.
In an evil hour, Pescara listened. Where was the pure, lofty influenceof his wife at that moment? She was far away, believing in his unstainedhonour. A fatal letter was written by him, yielding to the tempter'ssnares, and entrusted to a messenger named Gismondo Santi.
This man, lodging at a low hostelry on his journey, was murdered by thelandlord, and buried under his staircase. As no tidings, consequently,were heard of the unfortunate emissary, Pescara concluded he had turnedtraitor (like his master) and carried his despatches to the Emperor.Fancy his feelings.
Oh, for Vittoria! Oh that she had been with him at first!--oh! that shewere with him now! As he clasped his strong hands over his burning eyes,and strove to think, he seemed to see her, sitting at herwriting-table, pensively gazing at his miniature, and then at thecrucifix above it, with a prayer for him on her lips--a prayer that hemight be surrounded by an atmosphere of sanctity and safety.
After crowning such a brilliant campaign by winning the battle of Pavia,should he end by dying a disgraced man?--a convicted traitor, like DeBourbon, with, perhaps, the felon death that De Bourbon had escaped? Andall for what? What dust and ashes the Evil One gives us to drink!
Just then, a courier, hot with haste, brought him a letter--it was fromVittoria. Too agitated to disentangle gently the tress of her fair hairknotted round it, he cut it with his dagger, and devoured rather thanread it.
Some bird of the air had carried the matter!--she had heard of the plot!No Lady Macbeth was Vittoria, to urge her husband on to guilt--she washis guardian angel, and wrote, with infinite trouble and anxiety, toimplore him to think of his hitherto unstained character, and to weighwell what he was about, declaring to him that she had no desire to bethe wife of a king, but only of a loyal and upright man.
This letter decided Pescara as to his course. He wrote a full confessionto the Emperor, who certainly owed him small thanks for it, seeing hebelieved him to know all already; and the confederates he compromisedowed him still less. Pescara was too deep in the mire now, to come outunstained. He returned to his allegiance to the Emperor, but he betrayedhis friends, his tempters, accomplices, or whatever name we may givethem. The Pope, of course, was above danger; but Morone fell into aregular trap laid for him.
Vittoria, far away in her little island, would only hear as much asPescara chose to tell her, and in his own way. She would suppose hischaracter unscathed, his possession of imperial favour undiminished,since he was shortly afterwards made generalissimo of the forces.Suddenly his health broke down. No one could say why, unless the slightwounds he had received at Pavia had injured him more than was supposed.A troubled mind, probably, was at the root of his mortal sickness.
And so, in the prime of life, and loaded with honours, he found allearthly things receding from his grasp, and death hovering in view. Ingreat anguish he sent for Vittoria, begging her to come quickly. Shestarted instantly with all speed, and had travelled as far northwards asViterbo, when she was met by the news of his death.
Thus closed their life's romance. And if she had breathed her last onhis grave, she would only be known to us, if known at all, as aconstant, affectionate woman. Instead of which, she lived to immortalisehis memory in noble verse, to exemplify by her life a rare purity,constancy, intelligence, and devotion, and then to dedicate her pen tothe loftiest themes that an evangelical faith could consecrate. No mereidyls or love-verses: her poems are full of deep thought and profoundpiety.
This was the Vittoria, perhaps the most distinguished lady in Italy,whom Giulia Gonzaga, her cousin by marriage, found at Naples, listeningto the preaching of Bernardino Ochino.
Del Vasto, her boy pupil, was now arrived at man's estate, and herdearest friend. He was married to Maria d'Aragona, the greatest beautyof the day. Like Pescara, he was destined to die early.