by Anne Manning
CHAPTER III.
THE DUCHESS'S STORY.
Giulia di Gonzaga, daughter of the Duke of Sabbionetta, was bornsomewhere about the beginning of the sixteenth century. She was one of anumerous and beautiful family, and, from her earliest infancy, thedarling of all hearts. There must have been something charming about thedear little girl whose "vezzi e grazie," even from her cradle, were soextolled by dry annalists,[6] and whose riper graces were sung byAriosto, Bernardo Tasso, Molza, Gandolfo Porrino, Claudio Tolomei, andall the noted poets of the day. A child who, from the nursery, kisses,sugar-plums, and petting could not spoil, her sweetness equally bore thetest when promoted to the school-room, where, without any apparenttrouble to herself, she outstripped her elder sisters, Paola, Ippolita,and Eleanora, in their studies, though they were none of them considereddeficient. Enough, if not too much, praise was bestowed on the skillwith which her pretty hands touched the lute and guided the embroideryneedle. Children are quick to hear their own encomiums, though utteredunder the breath.
[6] "Imperroche le fu natura tanto de' suoi doni benefice, e cosi di vezzi e di grazie la ricolmo, che gli atti suoi e le sue parole, accompagnate ognora da modesta vivacita e condite di un lepor soavissimo, legavano dolcemente a lei gli animi di ciascuno."--Ireneo Affo.
She had scarcely grown to her full height, and left off being sent earlyto bed, when she was given in marriage to Vespasiano Colonna, Duke ofTrajetto. He was forty, and crippled with the rheumatism, yet herparents thought it a suitable match. They told her he was good,generous, and indulgent, and so he proved. She liked him. She likedpleasing him, and tending him, and receiving his pleasant praises andsmiles. He had a daughter by a former marriage, rather younger thanherself, and he wished them to be friends; but Isabella was of a coldernature than Giulia. The Duke had a singular feeling towards his littlebride. She was so good, so pure, that he shrank from her beingcontaminated by the pernicious influence of Italian society, such as itwas in the sixteenth century, and resolved to seclude her from it asmuch as he could in the retirement which his infirm health rendered sograteful. But he did more than this, for he resolved that her mindshould receive the highest culture, and thus possess resources in itselfwhich should make retirement happy. And as he was a man of good partsand delightful conversation, affectionate, indulgent, and quietlyhumorous, it is not at all surprising, I think, that he captivated thisyoung girl, and made her really love him.
This rendered more than tolerable her attendance on him as a nurse. Hewould not let her do anything really painful or wearisome, took carethat she should have plenty of open-air exercise, and won her admirationof his patience and cheerfulness during his tedious decline.
When he died, in the year 1528, he left Giulia mistress of all hispossessions in the Campagna, the Abruzzi, and the kingdom of Naples, andguardian of Isabella, whom he designed for the wife of Ippolito de'Medici, nephew of Pope Clement the Seventh.
Giulia soon felt the want of a male protector, for two of the Duke'skinsmen, Ascanio di Colonna and Napoleone Orsini, laid claim to theestates. The Pope substantiated her right to them, and the EmperorCharles the Fifth, then a young man of eight-and-twenty, commissionedher brother, Don Luigi, to put her in possession. Luigi, who was abrilliant soldier, paid his sister a hasty visit at Fondi; and beforehe left it, he and Isabella exchanged secret vows of affection.
When Ippolito de' Medici, with youth, good looks, and noble bearing torecommend him, was sent by the Pope to woo and win Isabella, he foundthe Duchess much more attractive; and when she remarked one day onsomething strange in his conduct, he spoke out at once, and said--
"Giulia, I care nothing for _her_--and I cannot but care for _you_!"
Thereon the Duchess was much offended, and said she should write to thePope. Ippolito very stoutly refused to own himself at all wrong.Giulia's widowhood, he averred, had been long enough for the world tosuppose that her hand might be sued for. The Pope would be well pleasedto see him win the daughter, but infinitely more so at his obtaining themother. Giulia very indignantly replied that no Pope on earth had, orshould have, power to make her marry again, against her will. She was afree agent; she respected and cherished the memory of her dear Duke toomuch ever to give him a successor. The amaranth was her chosen emblem,and "_Non moritura_" her motto.
Ippolito here ventured to murmur something about disparity of years,which she instantly checked as the height of disrespect; and he thensaid all that could be said by a very clever man, really and deeply, andhonestly in love; but the more he said, the less Giulia minded him, forthe idea had possessed itself of her mind that he might not have foundher so pre-eminently attractive but for the thirteen thousand ducatswhich her good Duke had added to her dowry of four thousand immediatelyafter their marriage. Besides, she was extremely sensitive to theopinion of "everybody," and she pictured what "everybody" could say,if, after inviting Ippolito to her castle as the suitor of herstep-daughter, she were to marry him herself. Moreover, she did not likethe Medici; they were wonderfully clever, but they were not good. _Voltisciolti, pensieri stretti_--she would rather not trust her happiness toany one of them. Or to _any_ one. Why should not she continue, free andhappy as she was?
So Ippolito found her impenetrable to the most insinuating words andmelting tones; and as she found him equally impracticable on the subjectof being faithful, as she called it, to Isabella, though he deniedhaving pledged any faith to her at all, Giulia told him very plainly shewished he would end his visit; which he, much hurt, said he would do.And his farewell bow was as stiff and stately as if he were anunsuccessful envoy to a warlike sovereign; and he went away without anyleave-taking of Isabella.
Thereon, the Duchess, much fluttered and embarrassed, went to tellIsabella that Ippolito was gone; and Isabella, in her cold, dry way,said:
"Why?"
Then the Duchess said he had been talking very uncomfortably andunintelligibly: he seemed hardly inclined to fulfil his engagement. ThenIsabella said:
"He need not trouble himself. I made no engagement with _him_."
Then the Duchess said:
"My dear Isabella! what _can_ you be thinking of?"
"I am thinking," says Isabella, after a pause, "of Rodomonte."
"_Possibile? che gioja!_" cried the Duchess, embracing her.
Rodomonte was the pet name of Giulia's younger brother Luigi, alreadyspoken of. If Isabella were inclined to marry him, her portion would bea famous thing for him. The only question was, would the Pope consent?
The Pope consented when he found Isabella would not have Ippolito at anyrate, and when he learnt that Ippolito had good hope of securing theDuchess. So Luigi and Isabella were married, and Luigi was mortallywounded the following year in endeavouring to recover one of hissister's castles; and died recommending his widow and infant son to hercare. Isabella afterwards married the Prince of Sulmona.
Ippolito now changed his tactics. When the Duchess had received him asthe future husband of her step-daughter, she, not imagining theirpositions could be misunderstood, addressed him by his Christian name.Whereon he, not to be behindhand, and seeing that they were nearly of anage, immediately called her Giulia, and persisted in doing so in spiteof hints and rebuking looks. Now that he had been charged with"disrespect," he resolved to try what the utmost deference could do; sohe sent her a translation he had made (extremely well, too), of thesecond book of the AEneid, with the following dedication prefixed:
"Because that it often happens that one's woes are soothed by matchingthem with those that are greater, I, not finding for my pain any otherremedy, have turned my mind to the burning of Troy; and, measuring myown wretchedness with that, have satisfied myself beyond doubt that noevil happened within its walls which I myself have not felt in thedepths of my heart; the which, seeking in some degree to ease bythinking on Troy, I have thereby been enabled to understand. I thereforesend you this, that it may give you a truer picture of my grief than mysighs, my tears, my pallid cheeks could ever impart."
The obdurate Giulia was not to be melted. She was more impenetrable thanever; and with good reason; having heard of a street fight in Rome, inwhich Ippolito had killed a man. It is true Ippolito said he had notmeant it--he only meant to hurt him, and teach a lesson to a troublesomefellow. However that may be, the man _was dead_, and Ippolito was undera cloud for a while, till it blew over, according to the fashion of thetimes, and he could come out again with only the taint of justifiablehomicide. He was a good deal quieted. He did not know what to do withhimself, nor did the Pope (a very bad old man) know what to do with himor for him, since he would not or could not make his fortune bymarriage. There was the mixture of fame and infamy in his lineage whichpertained to but too many of the Medici, and he had not a penny that thePope did not give him; so the only opening for him was in the Church. Hegave him the Cardinal's hat.
A handsome, comfortable-looking cardinal was Ippolito, with very littletoken of care feeding on his damask cheek. You may see him, any time youlike, in the National Gallery--there he is, pen in hand, at a tablecovered with a Persian carpet, having just signed a deed, apparently, towhich Sebastian, the famous Venetian painter, has affixed the leadenseals, in virtue of his office as keeper of the Papal signet--whence hiscognomen, _Del Piombo_. Note them: they are noteworthy men. Sebastianhas put himself foremost; the Cardinal in the background. But theCardinal takes it easily; he has a jolly, good-tempered face, blackeyes, an aquiline nose, and black hair.
His relations with Giulia were a good deal altered by the cardinalate.She need no longer fear him as a suitor; she hoped his entering theChurch was a sign of a changed heart; she revered his holy office, andgradually identified him with it. Once or twice, when affairs drew herto the Eternal City, she saw him take part in the grand pageantry; andwhen she heard Kyrie Eleison rolling and swelling through nave andaisle, and Veni Creator breathed like the whispers of angels insoul-subduing softness, and the Pope himself intoning the Te Deum,--herunsophisticated mind was deeply impressed; for Giulia was still, and allher life, as guileless as a little child; and herein, no doubt, lay theunexplained and unexplainable attraction about her. She was gladIppolito had put an insuperable barrier between her and himself, becausenow she could enjoy his really delightful society, when they met,without alloy.
But they did not meet very often; and it was a good thing they did not,for Ippolito loved her as dearly as ever. It was a good thing they didnot meet often, and yet it was a good thing they met sometimes, and thather influence continued to be felt by him, for it was the only goodinfluence he had! Poor Ippolito, with all his sins, was much betterthan those who constantly surrounded him. The nearer from church, thefarther from God, was awfully true of the Papal court; and if he soughtrefuge from men in books, as he continually did, they were the books ofheathens, none the less anti-Christian and poisonous for being in Greek.
While the very ground seemed sinking under him, and all trust and hopein himself and others perishing, there came the news that Giulia was indanger, and had fled to the mountains to escape Barbarossa. Instantlyhis better nature awoke, and he flew to her succour.