1490-1547.
It would be giving a very faint idea of the state of Italian literature,
or even of the lives led by the learned men of those times, if all
mention were omitted of the women who distinguished themselves in
literature. No slur was cast by the Italians on feminine
accomplishments. Where abstruse learning was a fashion among men, they
were glad to find in their friends of the other sex, minds educated to
share their pursuits and applaud their success. In those days learning
was a sort of wealth; men got as much as they could, and women, of
course, were led to acquire a portion of such a valuable possession.
The list of women who aspired to literary fame in Italy is very long.
Even in Petrarch's time, the daughter of a professor of Bologna, gave
lectures in the university behind a veil, which has been supposed was
used to hide her beauty, and which at least is a beautiful trait of
modesty, where a young girl was willing to impart her knowledge to the
studious, but shrunk from meeting the public gaze. The mother of Lorenzo
de' Medici is celebrated for her sacred poems, and her patronage of
literature. Ippolita Sforza, daughter of the duke Francesco, and married
to Alfonso II., king of Naples, was learned in Greek and many other
languages. A manuscript copy of a translation of Tully's _de Senectute_
is preserved of hers at Rome, and marked as having been written in her
youth; and two of her Latin orations are to be seen in the Ambrosian
Library at Milan. Alessandra Scala, to whom Politian was attached, wrote
Greek verses, which have been printed, appended to the Latin poetry of
her learned lover. There was an Isotta of Padua, whose letters are
models of elegance, and who composed various poems of merit. The noble
house of Este boasted of a learned princess. Bianca d'Este has been
celebrated by one of the Strozzi in Latin verses; he speaks of her Greek
and Latin compositions with great praise. Damigella Torcila, we are
told, was numbered among the most distinguished women of her time. She
was profoundly versed in the learned languages, particularly in Greek;
she was an admirable musician, and as beautiful as she was wise.
Cassandra Fedele, however, excelled all her sex in her acquirements. She
was of a noble family, originally of Milan; born at Venice in 1465: she
was, by her father's desire, instructed in all the abstruse
studies--Greek, Latin, philosophy, and music--with such success, that
even in girlhood she was the admiration of all the learned men of the
age. There is a letter from Politian to her, which praises her Latin
letters, not only for their cleverness and elegance of style, but "for
the girlish and maiden simplicity" which adorned them. "I have read
also," he says, "your learned and eloquent oration, which is harmonious,
dignified, and full of talent. I am told that you are versed in
philosophy and dialectics, that you entangle others by the most serious
difficulties, and make all plain yourself with admirable ease; and while
every one loads you with praise, you are gentle and humble." This kind
of knowledge would not suit these days: but those were times when men
tried to puzzle themselves by scholastic learning, and when the noble
Pico della Mirandola took pleasure in disputing on nine hundred
questions. Isabella of Spain, Louis XII. of France, and pope Leo X. all
warmly solicited Cassandra to take up her abode at their several courts.
She showed willingness to accept the queen's invitation; but the
Venetian republic set so high a value upon her, that they would not
permit her to leave their state. She married Mapelli, a physician, who
was sent to Candia by the republic, and Cassandra accompanied him. She
became a widow late in life, and lived to extreme old age. She was
elected when ninety years old to be the superior of a religious house in
Venice; and died at the age of one hundred and two.
This list might easily be much enlarged; but we have no space for
further dilation; and therefore turn from names less illustrious, to
Vittoria Colonna, the woman of all others who conferred, by her virtues,
talents, and beauty, honour on her sex.
Vittoria Colonna was the daughter of Fabrizio Colonna, grand constable
of the kingdom of Naples, and of Anna di Montefeltro, daughter of
Frederic duke of Urbino. She was born at Marino, a castle belonging to
her family, about the year 1490. At the infantine age of four she was
betrothed to Ferdinando Francesco d'Avolos, marquess of Pescara, who
was not older than his baby bride. She was educated with the most
sedulous care, and was sought in marriage by various princes--but that
fidelity of disposition which was her beautiful characteristic through
life, prevented her from breaking her contract with her young lover.
They were married at the age of seventeen. He competed with her in
talents and accomplishments. They loved each other with the utmost
tenderness, and lived for four years succeeding to their marriage, in
solitude, in the island of Ischia, where Pescara had a palace.
But this happiness was of short duration; at the time when Julius II.
leagued all Italy against Louis XII., the marquess of Pescara joined the
army of the emperor. Vittoria was full of chivalric feelings; her
enthusiasm, as well as her tenderness, were gratified by the occupation
of embroidering banners for her hero, who, at the early age of
one-and-twenty, was made general of cavalry at the battle of Ravenna.
That disastrous day was adverse to him. He was taken prisoner and sent
to Milan, where he remained a year, and wrote a dialogue on love,
addressed to his wife, in a dedication in which he laments that he can
no longer visit her as he was used, whenever the duties of his station
permitted his absence. As a kind of answer to this testimony of his
affection, Vittoria designed an emblem--Cupid within a circle, formed
by a serpent, with the motto "_Quem peperit virtus, prudentia servet
amorem_"--"May prudence preserve the love, which originated in virtue."
After the French were driven from Italy, that unhappy country enjoyed a
short interval of peace, interrupted by the invasion of Francis I.
Pescara was present at the battle of Pavia, and distinguished himself by
his intrepidity, and mainly contributed to the success of the emperor's
arms. He was not rewarded as he deserved, and the opposite or French
party thought that his consequent discontent afforded an opening for a
reconciliation with them. Geronimo Morone was employed by them to seduce
him from his fidelity to Charles V. He was offered the kingdom of Naples
as a reward, and every argument was used that might have most
weight;--the honour he would acquire by driving the barbarous nations
from Italy, and the favours which the pope and other princes would
shower upon him. These were, however, but specious reasonings. Pescara
lent too ready an ear to them; but Vittoria at once detected their
fallacy, and the disgrace that would befall her husband if he abandoned
his imperial master. She wrote him a letter full of earnest persuasion
to refuse the dazzling offers of Morone. She spoke of the glory acquired
by fidelity and unblemished honour, as far outweighing any that a crown
could bestow, saying, that for herself, she desired to be called the
wife, not of a king, but of that great and glorious soldier, whose
valour and generosity of soul had vanquished the greatest kings.
Pescara's conduct on this occasion is wholly unworthy of the precepts of
his admirable wife. He continued faithful to the emperor, but acted the
base part of a spy and informer: by his means Morone's designs were
betrayed, and he was thrown into prison. There is no doubt that the
high-minded Vittoria continued to the last entirely ignorant of this
ignoble action; and praised her husband for having listened to her
exhortations, and rejected a crown.
But while the marquess was acting so as to cast an eternal stigma on his
honour, death was at hand to terminate every ambitious project. His many
wounds, and the fatigues he had endured during the long wars, had so
shaken his health, that neither his good constitution nor the skill of
physicians were any longer able to afford relief. While preparing to
die, he desired to take leave of his wife, and sent for her to join him
at Milan; but when he found that he should not survive long enough to
see her, he sent for his cousin, the marchese del Vasto, and recommended
Vittoria to him with the warmest affection. Vittoria, on hearing of her
husband's illness, had left Naples to join him. She passed through Rome,
where she was received with the greatest honours, but on arriving at
Viterbo, she received intelligence of Pescara's death: her grief caused
her to forget her religious resignation and fortitude; its excess
overwhelmed her with tears and the bitterest anguish.
From that time this illustrious lady never ceased to spend every faculty
of her soul in lamenting her lost husband. They had been married
seventeen years, but had no child; she gave herself up entirely to
sorrow; and her faithful heart, incapable of a second attachment to
replace one which had begun with her life, cherished only the image of
her past happiness, and the hope of its renewal in another life. Her
active mind could not repose tranquilly on its misery; she continued to
cultivate it, so to render it more worthy of Pescara, and she exercised
and amused it by the many sonnets she wrote in his honour. An Italian
author has named her second only to Petrarch. Her verses are full of
tenderness, of absorbing passion, of truth and life. They fail in poetic
fancy; and yet, so much does the reader sympathise in the intense and
fond sorrows of this extraordinary woman, that none can criticise, while
all are touched by her laments. The best poem in her volume has been
attributed to Ariosto, I do not know on what authority; but if written
by her, has that elegance of style and concentration of expression,
which characterises true poetry. It begins with the affecting
exclamation, "I am indeed her you loved! Behold how bitter and eating
grief has changed me!--Scarcely could you recognise me by my voice. On
your departure, that charm which you called beauty, and of which I was
proud, since it was dear to you, left my cheeks, my eyes, my hair!--Yet,
ah! how can I live, when I remember that the impious tomb and envious
dust contaminates and destroys thy dear and beautiful limbs!" These
verses may in their original be very justly compared in pathos and grace
to Petrarch:--
Io sono, io son ben dessa! or vedi come
M' ha cangiata il dolor fiero ed atroce
Ch' a fatica la voce
Può di me dar la conoscenza vera.
Lassa! ch' al tuo partir partì veloce
Dalle guancie, dagli occhi, e dalle chiome
Questa a cui davi come
Tu di beltade, ed io n' andava altera,
Che me 'l credea, perchè in tal pregio t' era.
* * * * *
Com' è ch' io viva, quando mi rimembra,
Ch' empio sepolcro, e invidiosa polve
Contamina e dissolve
La delicate alabastrine membra?
For seven years she gave up her whole heart to sorrow. Her relations,
thinking her too young at the age of thirty-five to continue unmarried,
pressed her to accept one of the many offers of marriage which she
received. But, wedded as all her thoughts had been since her earliest
infancy to one object, she felt unconquerably averse to any second
nuptials. She lived in retirement either at Ischia or Naples, dedicating
herself wholly to memory. Her active mind, refusing to find comfort in
any sublunary blessing, had recourse to religion for consolation. She
now employed herself in writing sacred poetry, and her enthusiastic
disposition led her to project a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; but the
marchese del Vasto opposed her putting it into execution.
She now left Naples on a tour to the north of Italy, and visited Lucca
and Ferrara. She afterwards took up her residence at Rome, and became
the intimate friend of the cardinals Bembo, Contarini, and Pole, and
various distinguished prelates. A love of yet greater retirement induced
her a few years after to retreat to a convent at Orvieto; from whence
she removed, after a short time, to the convent of Santa Caterina, at
Viterbo. Our countryman, cardinal Pole, resided in this town, and an
intimate friendship subsisted between him and Vittoria. There is a
resemblance in their characters that renders this intercourse
interesting; they were both singleminded, enthusiastic, and noble.
Vittoria added feminine tenderness to these qualities, while religious
fervour formed a bond of sympathy between them. The companions of
cardinal Pole were Flaminio and Pietro Carnescecchi: the latter having
afterwards become a protestant, doubts have been raised concerning the
orthodoxy of Vittoria; but there is every evidence that she never fell
off from her adherence to the catholic church.
A short time before her death she returned to Rome, and took up her
abode in the Palazzo Cesarini; where she died, in the year 1547, at the
age of fifty-seven. During her last moments her attached friend, Michael
Angelo, stood beside her. He was considerably her junior, and looked up
to her as something superior to human nature, and entitled to his most
fervent admiration. He has written many sonnets in her praise; and there
is extant a letter, in which he states how he stood beside her lifeless
remains, and kissed her cold hand, lamenting afterwards that the
overwhelming grief and awe of the moment, had prevented him from
pressing her lips for the first and last time.
This almost divine woman was held by her contemporaries in enthusiastic
veneration. Her name is always accompanied by glowing praises and
expressions of heartfelt respect. Ariosto joined with all Italy in
celebrating her virtues and talents, and has addressed several stanzas
to her in his Orlando Furioso.