no personal experience, could state better than your very elegant letter the vanity of human hopes. Most consolatory has it proved to me, describing so appropriately and feelingly my varied fortune;—the affair of Volterra, the honours with which the distinguished government of Florence has complimented me, and my secret delight while returning homewards to rejoin my circle, my sweet children, my wife, precious above aught else—these all at once transmuted by a death blow, to me the most calamitous. Most impressively have you set forth my affliction, and the loss I have publicly and privately sustained: by such things may indeed be seen the uncertain issues of earthly events."
Again, in thanking the Pope for his condolence, the bereaved Count adds, "For many reasons her death was a grievous vexation, for she was the beloved consort of my fortunes and domestic cares, the delight equally of my public and private hours, so that no greater misfortune could have befallen me."
Alinari
FEDERIGO OF URBINO AND HIS FAMILY
Detail from the picture by Giusto di Gand, in the Palazzo Ducale, Urbino.
(From the Ducal Collection)
At a court already attractive to men of literary pretensions, many were ready to take up a theme recommended by sympathy and gratitude. The funeral oration by Antonio Campano, Bishop of Teramo, was printed at Cagli in 1476, and would now be a prize to collectors. The Vatican Library contains several others in manuscript, overflowing with adulation, which for once was well bestowed.166 Battista was a remarkable instance of the transmission of talent by female descent. Her great-grandmother, Battista di Montefeltro, already celebrated in these pages,167 though married to a man of miserable character, had a daughter Elisabetta Malatesta, who inherited her misfortunes as well as her genius. Elisabetta's daughter was Costanza Varana, the associate of scholars and philosophers, whose gifts she is said to have rivalled, notwithstanding an early death that deprived her infant Battista of a mother's care. The babe began her letters when three years old, and at four was removed to the court of her uncle, Francesco Sforza, where she was put forward to deliver publicly a Latin oration, during the festivities following upon his installation as Duke of Milan. This display of infantine self-possession and memory, indicating at all events a tractable disposition, has, with fulsome adulation, been magnified as evidence of extraordinary precocious talent, and has been retailed without inquiry, as if her discourse had been an extempore effusion.168 On the strength of this reputation, when returned home she was made to welcome her father's more distinguished guests in public harangues, a discipline which, however injudicious, does not seem to have prevented her rapid acquisition of solid knowledge, nor to have interfered with her progress in those useful accomplishments of the needle which then formed the resource of high-born dames. The peculiarity of her character was a sedate temperament, that enabled her to take her place with singular judgment in the household of her widowed father, and gained for her several proposals of marriage even earlier than was usual in Italy. The circumstances of her union with Federigo have been noticed in 1459, and although our narrative has rarely named her, we are assured that during his frequent and prolonged absences, her judgment and tact were equally manifested in public affairs and in the management of her domestic concerns. It is startling to find her at fourteen a mother, and virtually regent of his state whilst he was employed in the war of the Neapolitan succession during 1461 and 1462. She spent the spring of both these years with him in winter quarters, the former at Magliano on the northern limit of the Campagna; the latter in the Eternal City, where she interchanged complimentary harangues in Latin with the diplomatic body, and where Pius II., himself no mean critic, praised her eloquence as equalled only by her discretion, and pronounced that fame had understated her merits. On this occasion, among other distinctions, his Holiness received her in full consistory, and conferred the spurs of knighthood on twelve of her suite. Yet these flattering demonstrations in no respect marred the freshness of her character, and devotional observances were the chief object of her visit to Rome. Though gifted with beauty of a high caste, simple dress and manners were her delight, and it was only on state occasions that, indulging her husband's taste rather than her own fancy, she displayed such magnificent attire as is represented in the characteristic portrait here introduced. It is very happily rendered from the original in the Uffizi Gallery at Florence, where profile likenesses of herself and her husband are enclosed in one frame. They were painted by Piero della Francesca, court limner of Urbino, whom we shall mention in our twenty-seventh chapter, and afford highly interesting specimens of early portraiture and mediæval costume. The Countess wears a robe of boldly flowered brocade, from beneath which emerges the richly bullioned sleeve of her vest. Her jewels are massive but elegant; her elaborate head-dress tastefully disposes a superabundance of luxurious hair—the distinctive beauty of Italian women. Yet a fashion of shaving above the forehead has somewhat marred the harmony of her features, by unduly exposing her "modest and majestic eye." This happily descriptive epithet we owe to Giovanni Sanzi, who knew her well, and scanned her features with an artist's glance; but his tribute merits an extract.
"Then closed that modest and majestic eye.
Her pious soul, from mundane risks released,
To God its rapid flight devoutly winged,
Leaving a tearful household, and the state
Grief-stricken, whilst Italia's noblest names
Partook their sorrow."
Muzio says, that by "her death was dissolved the most honoured, fitting, and congruous union of that or any other age."
The obsequies, as announced by Federigo to the Priors of Siena, were celebrated with singular magnificence on the 17th of August, in the Church of S. Bernardino, at Urbino. They were attended by thirty-eight envoys from the princes, cities, and great feudatories of Italy, excluding those of Venice and Siena, retarded by bad weather. These deputations formed a retinue of three hundred and sixteen nobles, besides two hundred and ninety belonging to the court of Urbino, and three hundred and eight ecclesiastics. The procession was swelled by crowds of citizens from every town in the state, so that nearly 2000 appeared in mourning garb.169 The Countess left six daughters and an infant son, the care of whom was a serious burden to her lord. But Sanzi tells us that,
"Feeling at length how sad and profitless
It were on this dark world his hopes to rest,
His grief within his inmost heart he hid,
And mastered it in grave and modest guise."170
The next two years were chiefly passed at home, in bringing his mind to this pious resignation, in urging forward his palaces, and in administering his authority for the welfare of an attached people. Of an existence so tranquil and pleasing no glimpses are transmitted to us by his biographers, for it was barren of those martial feats which they considered the almost exclusive field of their labours. But from its not inglorious repose he was called to new honours.
On the 20th of August, 1474, he entered Rome with an escort of two thousand horse. Next morning he was summoned to receive the dignity of Duke from Sixtus, who met him in the great doorway of St. Peter's. There was, however, the preliminary compliment of creating him Knight of St. Peter, in this form. The Pontiff being seated on his throne, the Count was placed on his left, just below the cardinals. High mass having proceeded as far as the gloria, he was led by the Pope's favourite nephews, Girolamo Riario and Giovanni della Rovere, in front of the throne, and knelt on its steps, while Sixtus, taking from one of them the sword of St. Peter, elaborately blessed it, and placed it in his hands, with an injunction to wield it for the Church, and against the enemies of Christ's cross. He was then girt with it by Cardinal Orsini, the nephews meanwhile buckling on his golden spurs, and at a signal from the master of ceremonies, he drew and twice brandished it, returning it to its scabbard. These accoutrements being removed, mass was continued, and, whilst the litanies were chanted, he took the usual oath of fidelity, returning thereafter to his place. Before reading of the Gospel he was conducted to the sacristy by Cardinals Gonzaga and Zeno, where his knightly mantle of gold brocade having been replaced by a ducal robe of similar material, he was again led to his place. The Gospel being concluded, he was taken by them during