IV
AN ORGY AT CHIGI'S VILLA
And Chigi made a joyous feast; I never
Sat at a costlier; for all round his hall
From column on to column, as in a wood,
Great garlands swung and blossomed, and beneath
Heirlooms and ancient miracles of Art
Chalice and salver, wines that Heaven knows when
Had sucked the fire of some forgotten sun
And kept it through a hundred years of gloom,
Yet glowing in a heart of ruby, cups
Where nymph and god ran ever round in gold,
Others with glass as costly, some with gems
Movable and resetable at will,
And trebling all the rest in value.
Ah! heavens!
Why need I tell you all? Suffice! to say
That whatsoever boundless wealth like his,
And genius high, can compass, rare or fair,
Was brought before the guest.
Tennyson:—Altered.
So I found Raphael and so I left him, successful and apparently happy. Had I comprehended what the incident which I have just related meant to him,—had I even suspected his misconception of the situation,—I might have made him understand that neither at Cetinale nor at Porto d'Anzio had Maria Dovizio sung the Hymn to Apollo, that in both places it was Imperia who had chanted, Imperia who had responded to Chigi's caresses, and so this woful misunderstanding might never have divided these young lovers. Maria, far from being Chigi's guest at the moment of the discovery of the Apollo, was in Urbino, awaiting in ever-increasing wonder and dismay some word of affection from her betrothed. Failing to receive it she came to Rome, but Raphael held himself aloof, pleading the Pope's demands upon his time. He thought that she would understand the cause of his neglect, and herself sunder the engagement, for he would not shame her by any accusation.
One ineffaceable picture of my friend I carried with me into my exile, for going to the Vatican to bid Raphael farewell, I was told that he was in the Pope's villa of the Belvedere superintending the placing of the Apollo, which had just arrived. The guards barred my entrance to the loggia, and indeed I cared not to intrude, for I saw that the Pope was there, gazing at the statue with a grim delight, as though he believed that the god had descended to earth to expel as of old the barbarian Gauls.
Raphael stood entranced, unmindful of the presence of Maria Dovizio, who sat a little apart, heart-sick and bewildered, unable to grope her way through the thick fog of misconception which had drifted between herself and her beloved.
And over all the white form of Apollo gleamed in heartless gladness, untouched by any feeling for his votary's sins of ignorance for which he would cry in vain repentance, "Had I but known, had I but known!"
It was impossible for me to tarry longer in Rome without employment, and I bethought me of the monks of Oliveto, and how they had asked for a series of paintings for their cloister. To this refuge, therefore, I repaired, completing, in two years, thirty-one great frescoes for little more than my sustenance. Yea; and for my belly's sake I might have accepted the life of a cowled monk, had not Chigi in the nick of time drawn me from that slough with the announcement that Peruzzi had completed the building of his villa, and that it was now ready for decoration.
Here accordingly, while painting in the upper rooms, I enjoyed the comradeship of that brotherhood of choice spirits—Giovanni da Udine, Francesco Penni, and the rest—who with thee, my Giulio, wrought so lovingly under Raphael's direction, illuminating the lower loggia with the legend of Cupid and Psyche.
It is true that to my surprise and sorrow Raphael himself came not, but I knew that he was overwhelmed with commissions, and to their demands upon his time I attributed his avoidance of the villa. In the meantime I delayed not to seek him out, and to express my surprise that I found him still a bachelor. But at my first probing of that old wound he winced so perceptibly that I perceived that it was by no means cured, and I made no demand upon his confidence for an explanation of his delay in demanding the consummation of an engagement which had not been publicly dissolved.