Colonna, the friend and comforter, the joy and inspiration, of Michael Angelo!" It is hard to do justice to the exceeding glory and beauty of this relation. Here we behold the greatest man of his country, - who towers above all others, as much in moral as in intellectual greatness, and its most accomplished and saintly woman, bound together, not by a tie of passionate love, but in a relation so sacred and holy, so lofty and pure, so tender and sweet, that it seems as if it might last unchanged through all the ages of eternity. They exchange the deepest thoughts on the highest spiritual themes; yet never is the aroma of chivalry, the beautiful devotion of one sex to another, forgotten. This star, that rose on her night of sorrow, never tainted her soul with disloyalty to the beautiful sun which had brightened and warmed her day; and she chided him, if in her he forgot any thing that was due to his sterner and harder life elsewhere. If we grant to the Marquis of Pescara the reputation of goodness and nobility, because she gave to him the passionate love of a young girl's heart, shall we believe that in maturer life this loving woman bestowed her esteem and reverence on the morose, jealous, selfish being, whom some would have us believe to have been her chosen friend? Their acquaintance commenced at Rome during her youth, but ripened into greater intimacy on her return thither after her husband's death. We see no reason for believing, that he ever desired any other relation to her than the full and confiding friendship which she gave him. His language, after her husband's death as before, is lofty, calm, removed from all vain thoughts. Vasari says, " But he sent an infinite number of his poems, and received replies in prose and verse from the illustrious Marchioness de Pescara, of whose virtue Michael Angelo was enamored, and she equally of him; and she often went from Viterbo to Rome to visit him, and Michael Angelo designed for her a Piety in the lap of Our Lady, with two little angels, -a most wonderful thing; and a Christ fixed on the cross, who, having raised his head, commends his soul to the Father, a divine thing; besides a Christ with the Samaritan at the well." These designs are But indicative of their topics of thought and sympathy. she knew well that even the pure relation of friendship may become too engrossing; and she writes to him, that if "they should continue it with so much ardor, she should fail to spend her evening with the Sisters in the chapel of St. Catherine, and he to go early to his work at St. Peter's: and thus one would be wanting in duty to the spouse of Christ, and the other to his Vicar." Her French biographer says that she "never replied to Michael Angelo in verse." Whether from excess of modesty, or because her pen was first consecrated to her husband and afterwards to sacred themes, we know not; but Vasari thinks otherwise, and expressly says that "she sent him many things in prose and verse." His sonnets to her, so celebrated for their beauty and depth of feeling, may be found translated in Harford's "Life of Michael Angelo." It is clear that Vittoria Colonna was interested in the preaching of Savonarola; and still more in that of Ochino, one of the most zealous and determined of the Italian Reformers. She is constantly referred to as the friend and companion of Flaminio and Valdez, also noted for their desire to reform the Catholic Church. Meetings were held at her house to discuss the points at issue. Cardinal Pole was also her intimate friend, and he too had leanings towards the side of reformation. But it is certain that she never went the full length of separating herself from the communion of the Catholic Church. It would have been a very hard step for one of her tenacious and loyal nature to adopt, even without the fear of outward dangers; and probably her spiritual advisers well knew how to work on a conscience so sensitive, and an imagination so vivid, as hers. "Ochino, on quitting Italy, published a letter, addressed to his friends and followers, explaining the grounds of his secession, and sent a copy of it to Vittoria Colonna." By the advice of Cardinal Pole, she sent this letter to Cardinal Cervini. She wrote also a letter to him, in which she says "that Ochino accuses himself the more, the more he endeavors to excuse his conduct; and the more he believes he shall save others from shipwreck, the แ more he exposes them to the deluge, being himself out of the ark which saves, and gives security." This certainly does not look like seeking salvation by any other than the old road of St. Peter. And yet, still later, she wrote words of encouragement to the Count Galeazzo Caracciolo, who so nobly sacrificed home, country, family, and wife to the principles of truth which he had accepted. On the whole, we must conclude that Vittoria Colonna was more a woman than a theologian. The warmth and zeal of the reform preachers kindled her enthusiasm, and she honored their heroism and courage; but the points of difference did not strike to the root of her religious life, and she did not feel herself called upon to forsake the old fountains, which she believed contained the living waters, however they had been misused and polluted. And yet much of the extravagance of her religious expression, and the dark days of suf fering which succeeded to periods of illumination, may have been owing to the doubts with which she had struggled, and which were silenced rather than resolved. Constant mention is made of her helping others out of a state of religious doubt and error. May it not have been that others, who like her had been attracted to the dangerous and unpopular side of reform, were glad to strengthen themselves by her example, in returning to the safe and warm embrace of the Mother Church? Michael Angelo seems never to have gone so far as his friend, in his relation to the Reformers, although his attachment to Savonarola is well known. And yet we cannot but feel that he was the natural Protestant; and that, had not his life been full of other interests and differing thoughts, he would very probably have placed himself in danger of exile and ecclesiastical death. But at that time the line of separation was not fully drawn; and the old man, worn out by suffering, cherished his faith in God in his own heart, and looked forward with courage to the future life, which seemed ever present to his thought. So different were the minds and natures of the two friends, and yet so harmonious, that, without doubt, they mutually strengthened each other's faith, and perfected each other's trust. The religious state of the marchioness was very unequal. She occasionally was exalted into a state, as she believed, of special divine revelation; but darkness and despondency succeeded. Her conscience must have been very tender, and her humility very perfect, to escape the mischievous effect in spiritual pride, which the excessive adulation poured upon her was fitted to produce. From all parts of Italy, pious women sought her counsel as an inspired teacher. The Queen of Navarre asked advice for her salvation; and the Duchess d'Amalfi demanded a guide for her conduct. She gave the Pope lessons in clemency, and Bernard Tasso implored her to confirm his wavering faith. He writes to her, "You who are so near to God's favor, do not refuse me your protection. Show me the path by which you walk so surely to eternal salvation. Pray to Him who sees you travelling on this road, that he may call me with his voice of mercy; and do not be offended, if binding myself to the traces of your virtue, if following as I may your steps, I arrive at a distance behind you." She composed homilies and prayers in Latin, for the edification of herself and others, esteeming that language especially fitted to the solemnity of devotional exercise. What value shall we assign to Vittoria Colonna as a poet? Shall we re-echo the applause of her own age, which stamped her "divine"? Shall we say that not only the soul of Petrarch, but even of Plato, had taken refuge in this holy breast? When we remember, that, except a short spasm of renewed and extravagant admiration in the sixteenth century, the world has suffered these divine poems to lie almost unread for three hundred years, we are forced to confess, that they do not possess that lasting and universal interest which belongs to the highest genius. Judged by Coleridge's test, we must condemn them. The fair writer can paint nothing but herself, only her own sufferings and joys and trials. To her own age, sharing the same morbid fancy and attenuated spiritualism, these reiterated plaints were infinitely affecting; but they are not of that genuine, healthy vigor to suit all climates and all ages. M. Daumier says that until 1840 we had no good edition of her works, and adds rather brusquely, "God knows if, since 1840, in Europe we have had time to busy ourselves with tears three hundred years old." But as ever "man must work, and woman must weep; " so there are moods of mind and strains of feeling which respond to the plaintive song. The following is, to us, her most beautiful sonnet, and is true to the experience of every one who has known a deep and vital sorrow: "Parmi che'l sol non porga il lume usato Il terra a noi, nè in cielo a sua sorella: Non veggiò cor più di valore armato: Di poi che'l mio bel sol fu in terra spento, O il duolo ai sensi miei nasconde il vero." We have tried to preserve its spirit and rhythm in the following version: "Methinks the sun sheds not its wonted light To us on earth, or sister moon on high: I see no heart with courage for its shield: Dark is the air, turbid the water's hue; Fire does not warm, nor cool the freshening wind : All things have lost their dear familiar way. Since my fair sun no more on earth I find, All nature's holy order goes astray, Or grief conceals the true one from my mind." We cannot but feel, that, with all that was left her of esteem and usefulness, with all her religious faith and exalted piety, |