The Romance of Biography Volume I Part 13

[74] Those who are curious about historic proofs, may consult Anecdotes of the family of Howard, Memoirs and works of Henry Howard Earl of Surrey, edited by Dr. Nott, Park's Royal and n.o.ble Authors, and Collins'

Peerage, by Brydges.

CHAPTER XIII.

GINEVRA, AND ALESSANDRA STROZZI.

While the sagacity of Horace Walpole was tracking the ident.i.ty of the fair Geraldine, through the mazes of poetry and probability,--through parchments, through peerages, through papers, and through patents, he must now and then have been annoyed by the provoking discretion of her chivalrous adorer, which had led him such a chase. But of all the discreet lovers that ever baffled commentators or biographers, commend me to Ariosto! though one of the last from whom discretion might have been expected on such a subject. He is known to have been particularly susceptible to the power of beauty; pa.s.sionate in his attachments; and though pensive and abstracted in his general habits, almost irresistibly captivating in his intercourse with women. Yet such was his fine chivalrous feeling for the honour of those who, won by his rare qualities, yielded it to his keeping--"such his marvellous secrecy and modesty," say his Italian biographers, that although the public gaze was fixed upon him in his lifetime, and although, since his death, the minutest circ.u.mstances relative to him have been subjects of as much curiosity and research in Italy, as Shakspeare among us; yet a few scattered notices are all that can be brought together to ill.u.s.trate his charming lyrics.

This mystery was not in Ariosto the effect of chance or affectation; it arose from a principle of conduct faithfully adhered to from youth to age; in behalf of which, and the many beautiful pa.s.sages expressive of devotion and reverential tenderness towards our s.e.x, scattered through his great poem, we will endeavour, (though at some little sacrifice of the pride and delicacy of women,) to pardon him, for having treated us most wickedly, on sundry other occasions. As an emblem of the reserve he had imposed on himself, a little bronze Cupid, with his finger on his lip, in token of silence, ornamented his inkstand, which is still preserved at Ferrara.

Of Ariosto's amatory poems, so full of spirit, grace, and a sort of earnest triumphant tenderness, it is impossible to doubt that the objects were real. The earliest of his serious attachments, was to a young girl of the Florentine family of the Lapi, but residing at Mantua, or in its vicinity. Her name was Ginevra,--a name he has tenderly commemorated in the Orlando Furioso, by giving it to one of his most charming and interesting heroines,--Ginevra di Scozia. He has also, after Petrarch's fashion, _played_ upon this name in one or two of his sonnets; _Ginevro_ signifying a juniper-tree:

Non voglio (e Febo e Bacco mi perdoni) Che lor frondi mi mostrino poeta, Ma che un _Ginevro_ sia che mi coroni!

"I wish not, (may Bacchus and Phoebus pardon me!) either the laurel or the ivy to crown my brows; let my wreath be rather of the th.o.r.n.y juniper!"

His love for Ginevra (which was fondly returned,) began in very early youth; their first interview occurred at a _Festa di Ballo_,--a fte-champtre, where Ginevra excelled all her young companions in the dance, as much as she surpa.s.sed them in her blooming beauty. He alludes to stolen interviews, in a grove of laurels, and on the banks of the Mincio: and on the whole, confesses that he had no reason to complain of cruelty from the fair Ginevra.[75] This attachment lasted long; for, four years after their first meeting, Ariosto addresses her in a most impa.s.sioned strain, and vows that she was then "dearer to him than his own soul, and fairer than ever in his eyes." She seems to have left that permanent impression on his memory and fancy, that shade of tender regret with which a man of strong sensibility and ardent imagination always recurs to the first love of his youth, even when the pa.s.sion itself is past. He says himself, when revisiting Mantua many years afterwards, that the scene revived all his former tenderness--

Quel foco ch' io pensai che fosse estinto, Dal tempo, dagli affanni, ed il star lunge Signor pur arde.----

I cannot discover what became of Ginevra ultimately: her fate was a common one: she was loved by a celebrated man, was forsaken, and in exchange for happiness and for love, she has enjoyed for some time a shadowy renown. Her name was usually connected with that of Ariosto, till the researches of later biographers discovered the object of that more celebrated, more serious, and more lasting pa.s.sion which inspired Ariosto's finest lyrics, which was subsequently sealed by a private marriage, and ended only with the poet's life. In this instance, the modesty of the lady and the discretion of Ariosto have proved in vain, for the name of _Alessandra Strozzi_ is now so inseparably linked with that of her poet, that Beatrice is not more identified with Dante, nor Laura with Petrarch; though their names be more popular, and their fame more widely spread.

Minor di grido, ma del vanto altera, (E ci le basta) che suo saggio amante Fu'l grande che cant l'armi e gli amori-- Vedi Alessandra![76]

Alessandra Strozzi was the daughter of Filippo Benucci, and the widow of t.i.to Strozzi, a n.o.ble Florentine and famous Latin poet. At the period of her first acquaintance with Ariosto, she must have been about six-and-twenty, and a beautiful woman, on a very magnificent scale.

Though I cannot find that she was distinguished for talents, or any particular taste for literature, she seems to have possessed higher and more loveable qualities, which won Ariosto's admiration and secured his respect to the last.

It was on his return from Rome in 1515, that Ariosto visited Florence, intending merely to witness the grand festival which was then celebrated in honour of St. John the Baptist, and lasted several days. With what animation, what graphic power, he has described in one of his canzoni, the scene and occasion in which he first beheld his mistress! The magnificence of Florence left, he says, few traces on his memory: he could only recollect that in all that fair city, he saw nothing so fair as herself.

Sol mi resta immortale Memoria, ch'io non vidi in tutta quella Bella citt, di voi, cosa pi bella.

He had arrived just in time to be present at a fte, to which both were invited, and which Alessandra, notwithstanding her recent widowhood, condescended to adorn with her presence, "da preghi vinta"--conquered by the entreaties of her friends. The whole scene is set forth like some of the living and moving pictures which glow before us in the Orlando.

Porte, finestre, vie, templi, teatri, Vidi pieni di Donne, A giochi, a pompe, a sacrifici intenti.

The portrait of Alessandra in her festal attire, and all her matronly loveliness, looks forth, as it were, from this gorgeous frame, like one of t.i.tian's breathing, full-blown beauties. Her dress is minutely described: it was black, embroidered over with wreaths of vine-leaves and bunches of grapes, in purple and gold; her fair luxuriant hair, gathered in a net behind and parted in front, fell down on either side of her face, in long curls which touched her shoulders.

In aurei nodi, il biondo e spesso crine In rara e sottil rete, avea raccolto; Soave ombra di drieto Rendea al collo, e dinanzi alle confine Delle guance divine; E discendea fin a l' avorio bianco Del destro omero, e manco; Con queste reti, insidiosi amori Preser quel giorno, pi de mille cori!

"In golden braids, her fair And richly flowing hair Was gather'd in a subtle net behind,-- (A subtle net and rare!) And cast sweet shadows there Over her neck, whilst parted ringlets, twined In beauty, from her forehead fell away, And hung adown her cheek where roses lay, Touching the ivory pale, (how pale and white!) Of both her rounded shoulders, left and right.

O crafty Loves! no more ye need your darts; For well ye know, how many thousand hearts, (Willing captives on that day,) In those golden meshes lay!"[77]

On her brow, just where her hair is parted, she wears a sprig of laurel, wondrously wrought in gems and gold;

Quel gemmato Alloro, tra la serena fronte e l' calle a.s.sunto.

After a rapturous, but general description of the lady's surpa.s.sing beauty, this animated and admirable canzone concludes with the fine comparison of himself to the wild falcon, tamed at length to a master's hand and voice:--

La libertade apprezza, Fin che perduta ancor non l' ha il falcone; Preso che sia, depone Del gire errando s l' antica voglia, Che sempre che si scioglia, Al suo Signor a render con veloci Ali s' andr, dove udir le voci!

Ariosto, thus enamoured, forgot the flight of time; instead of remaining at Florence a few days, his stay was prolonged to six months; and as he resided in the house of his friend Vespucci, who was the brother-in-law of Alessandra, he had daily opportunities of seeing her, without in any way compromising her matronly dignity. On a certain occasion he finds her employed at her embroidery. She is working a robe, with wreaths of lilies and amaranthes; these emblems of purity and love suggest, of course, the obvious compliments, but in a spirit that places the whole scene before us: Alessandra, gracefully bending at her embroidery-frame, and listening, with veiled lids and suspended needle, to the tender homage of Ariosto, who repeats, as he hangs over her,--

Non senza causa il giglio e l' amaranto, L' uno di fede, e l' altro fior d' amore, &c.

Even the pattern from which she is working, the silk, the gold, the lawn, made happy by her touch, are sanctified, are envied,--

Avventuroso man! beato ingegno!

Beata seta! beatissimo oro!

Ben nato lino! inc.l.i.to bel lavoro, Da chi vuol la mia dea prender disegno, Per far a vostro esempio un vestir degno, Che copra avorio, e perle ed un tesoro![78]

And he adds, "Ah, that she would rather take pattern after me, and imitate the constant love I bear her!"

Alessandra must have excelled in needle-work, for we find frequent mention of her favorite occupation; and it is even alluded to in the Orlando, where describing the wound of Zerbino, Ariosto uses a comparison rather too fanciful for the occasion.

Cos talora un bel purpureo nastro Ho veduto partir tela d'argento, Da quel bianca man pi ch'alabastro Da cui partire il cor spesso mi sento.

And so, I sometimes have been wont to view A hand more white than alabaster, part The silver cloth, with ribbons red of hue, A hand I often feel divide my heart.[79]

Among the personal charms of Alessandra, the most striking was the beauty and luxuriance of her hair. In the days of Ariosto, fair hair, with a golden tinge, was so much admired that it became a fashion; we are even informed that the Venetian women had invented a dye, or extract, by which they discharged the natural colour of their tresses, and gave them this admired hue. Almost all t.i.tian's and Giorgione's beauties have fair hair; the "richissima capellatura bionda" of Alessandra, was a princ.i.p.al charm in the eyes of her lover, but it was one she was destined to lose prematurely; during a dangerous illness, some rash and luckless physician ordered all her beautiful tresses to be cut off. The remedy, it seems, was equally unnecessary and unfortunate; but here was a fine theme for an indignant lover! and Ariosto has, accordingly, lavished on it some of his most graceful and poetical ideas. Of the three elegant sonnets[80] in which he has commemorated the incident, it is difficult to decide which is the finest--the last, perhaps, is the most spirited: the poet bursts at once into his subject, as in a transport of grief and rage.

"When I think, as I do, a thousand, thousand times a-day, upon those golden tresses, which neither wisdom nor necessity, but hasty folly, tore, alas! from that fair head, I am enraged,--my cheek burns with anger,--even tears gush forth, bathing my face and bosom;--I could die to be revenged on the impious stupidity of that rash hand! O Love, if such wrong goes unpunished, thine be the reproach! Remember how Bacchus avenged on the Thracian King,[81] the cl.u.s.ters torn from his sacred vines: wilt thou, who art greater far than he, do less? Wilt thou suffer the loveliest and dearest of thy possessions to be audaciously ravished, and yet bear it in silence?"[82]

This is powerful enough to be in downright earnest: and unsoftened by the flowing harmony of the verse and rhyme, appears even harsh, both in sentiment and expression: but the poetry and spirit being inherent, have not, I trust, quite escaped in the _transfusion_. When Ariosto, after a long absence, revisits the scene in which he first beheld the lady of his thoughts, he addresses those "marble halls, and lofty and stately roofs,

"Marmoree logge, alti e superbi tetti,"

in a strain which leaves the issue of his suit something less than doubtful:--

"Well do ye remember, ye scenes, when I left ye a captive sick at heart, and pierced with Love's sweet pain: but ye know not perhaps how sweetly I died, and was restored again to life: how my gentlest Lady, seeing that my soul had forsaken me, sent me hers in return to dwell with me for ever!"

"Ben vi sovvien, che di qui andai captivo, Trafitto il cor! ma non sapete forse Com' io morissi, e poi torna.s.si in vita.

E che madonna, tosto che s' accorse Esser l' anima in lei da me fuggita, La sua mi diede, e ch' or con questa vivo!"

The exact date of Ariosto's marriage cannot be ascertained, but the marriage itself is proved beyond a doubt:[83] it must have taken place about 1522. The reasons which induced Ariosto to involve in doubt and mystery his union with this admirable woman, can only be conjectured,[84] their intercourse was so carefully concealed, and the discretion and modesty of Alessandra so remarkable, that no suspicion of the ties which bound them to each other, existed during the life of the poet; nor did the slightest imputation ever sully the fair fame of her he loved.

It were endless to point out the various beauties of Ariosto's lyrics,--beauties which, as they spring from feeling, are _felt_. We have few sonnets in a dolorous strain, few complaints of cruelty; and even these seem inspired, not by the habitual coldness of Alessandra, but by some occasional repulses which he confesses to have deserved.

Per poco consiglio, e troppo ardire.

But we have, in their place, all the glow of sensibility, the sparkling of hope, the grateful rapture of returned affection, and that power of imagery, by which, with one vivid stroke, he turns his emotions into pictures: these predominate throughout. As an instance of the latter, there is the apostrophe to Hope, "now bounding and leaping along, now creeping with coward steps and slow:"

O speranza! che ancor dietro si mena Quando a gran salti, e quando a pa.s.si lenti!

In one of his madrigals, he says, with an elegance which is perhaps a little quaint, "my wishes soar so high, that my hopes shrink back, and dare not follow them." In the same spirit, when he is blest with the presence of his love, grief is not only banished, but "flies with the rapidity of a falcon before the wind,"