A Siren

by Thomas Adolphus Trollope

  CHAPTER X

  The Contessa Violante

  The Contessa Violante Marliani lived, as has been said, with hergreat-aunt, a sister of the Cardinal. They occupied a small house nearlycontiguous to the palace, which was almost more their home than theirown dwelling. The Marchesa Lanfredi, the Cardinal's sister, though agreat-aunt, was not yet sixty years old. She had been left a childlesswidow, very scantily provided for, early in life, and had retired fromBologna, her husband's native place, to live first at Foligno, of whichcity her brother had been bishop, and afterwards at Ravenna, to which hehad been subsequently promoted. The Cardinal was six or seven years hersenior. His elder brother, the grandfather of the Lady Violante, hadinherited the family estates in the neighbourhood of Pesaro, and haddied, leaving them to his only son, Violante's father, when the latterwas a very young man.

  This Conte Alberto Marliani had married for love, as it is called. Thatis to say, that he had not married for any of the reasons for whichmarriages among people of his rank and his country are usually made; buthad been attracted by a pretty gentle face seen in a Roman ball-room.The pretty gentle face had remained always gentle; but had soon ceasedto be pretty.

  The Contessa Marliani was inclined to devotion. The Conte was very muchdisinclined to anything of the sort. He soon got tired of his wife,repented of his marriage, and commenced an active system of breaking herheart. It was not a very difficult task, for she was as gentle in spiritas in face. He completed it when his only child Violante was about nineyears old. But he had also completed, much about the same time, theentire dissipation of the never very large Marliani property. And it sohappened that, very shortly afterwards, his own career was brought to aconclusion, which his relatives felt to have overtaken him a few yearstoo late! He was travelling from Rome down to Pesaro to complete thesale of the last portion of the estates, the proceeds of which had beenanticipated, when he was very opportunely drowned in attempting to crossthe Tiber swollen by flood.

  The little Violante, thus left an almost destitute orphan, wasnevertheless a personage of some importance. She was the only remainingscion of the family; and the position of her great-uncle seemed topromise a renewed period of prosperity and fortune to the old name.Violante was the Cardinal Legate's natural and sole heir. The Cardinalwas a very rich man; and in amassing wealth and attaining honours, hehad, like a true Italian, never thought the less of the additions to,and provisions for, the fortunes and splendour of the family name, whichhe was winning, because he was himself a priest, and would leave noheirs of his name. The peculiarities in the position of a sacerdotalaristocracy have engrafted the passion of nepotism in the hearts, aswell as the practice of it in the manners, of the members of Rome'shierarchy.

  Generally the family tie is a stronger one among the Italians than amongourselves. In the upper classes, it is certainly so; and, probably,among all classes. It may be thought strange, perhaps, that this shouldbe the case with a people whose lives are supposed to be less pervadedby the sentiment of domesticity than our own. The explanation may,however, perhaps be found in the greater and more frequent disruption offamily ties, which is caused by that more active social movement, whichpushes our younger sons away from the parental stock in search of themeans of founding families of their own.

  And one of the results of the Italian mode of living and feeling is seenin the very common family ambition of Churchmen.

  The little Violante then, as has been said, was a personage of someimportance, at least in the eyes of the Cardinal and his sister; andwhen she was left an orphan, was at once taken to live with hergreat-aunt, under the auspices of her Cardinal great-uncle. Both ofthose remaining members of the family would have preferred that the oneremaining scion of the race should have been a boy; but--when the youngContessa should be married, of course her name should be thenceforwardborne as part of that of the family; into which she should marry,--as isso commonly the case in Italy, (many of the oldest and most illustriousnames in the peninsula having survived to the present day solely byvirtue of such arrangements); and the Marliani be thus saved fromextinction.

  The young Contessa Violante, when she reached the age of young-ladyhood,had not the "fatal gift of beauty." Some people think that such adeprivation is the most unfortunate from which a woman can suffer.Others maintain that the absence of beauty is, upon the whole, no realmisfortune. But however philosophers may settle this question, it canhardly be doubted that no young girl devoid of beauty, was ever yetpersuaded that to be unattractive in appearance, was otherwise than avery, very sore affliction and misfortune. Nature often kindly mitigatesthe blow by making the unlovely girl unconscious of her want of beauty.But this was not the case with the young Contessa Violante Marliani.

  Violante knew that she was not beautiful, or even pretty. Probably inher own estimate of herself she exaggerated her plainness. She was oneof those persons who have not the gift of self-deception. Neither wasshe elegant in person. And yet there was something about her bearing,which would have prevented any one from imagining that she was otherthan a high-born lady. There was strong evidence of intellect in herface; and it was doubtless from within that came that quiet dignity ofbearing that marked her.

  And it was a dignity compatible and combined with the most perfectgentleness and almost humility of manner;--a dignity arising not fromthe consciousness of any high position or high qualities, but from theconsciousness of that sort of gentle passive strength, which knows thatno external circumstance, or difficulty, or pressure will avail to makeits owner step but a hair's breadth aside from the path which consciencehas marked as that of right and duty.

  Violante was tall and slender, but her figure was not graceful. Peopledid not say of her that she was slender; they said she was thin. Andthat was incontestably true. She was very thin. But her shoulders werehigh and square, and there was a sort of angularity and harshness aboutall the lines of her person. Her head seemed somewhat too large for herbody; and the upper part of it seemed too large for the lower portion.She had a large, square forehead, white enough, but strongly marked withinequalities of surface, which, however much they might have delighted aphrenologist, were not conducive to girlish comeliness. Her hair was ofthe very light reddish quality, which has not a single touch in it ofthat rich sunny auburn, which makes so many heads charming, red thoughthey be. Her face was perfectly white, yet not clear of complexion. Andthe pale grey eyes beneath their all but colourless brows completed theimpression of a general want of vigour and vitality.

  A little before the end of that year in which the Ravenna impresarioperformed his memorable journey to Milan with the results that have beenrecorded, Violante di Marliani reached her twenty-third birthday; a fewmonths before that day the Marchese Ludovico had reached histwenty-second. It was a difference on the wrong side, but not so greatas to form any serious objection to the proposed match. But twenty-threeis a rather mature age for an Italian noble lady to reach unmarried.That such should have been the case with the Signora Violante was by nomeans because no suitor for her hand had ever presented himself. Severalsuch aspirants had entered the lists. For the Contessa Violante was thegreat-niece of her great uncle. But some of these had appearedobjectionable to the Cardinal and his sister;--who also were not at alllikely to forget all that was due to the prospects arising from such arelationship, and all that it implied; and all of them had beenobjectionable to the young Contessa herself.

  Violante's expectations, indeed, in that line, or in any other of allthe different ways in which happiness may come to mortals in this world,was very small. For the first nine years of her life she had lived theonly companion of a very miserable mother. And all that mother's miseryhad apparently come from the fact of her having a husband. Those firstyears of the child's life had been very sad; very monotonous, verydepressing. Perhaps the effect of them did but confirm the speciality ofan idiosyncrasy, which would have been much the same without them. But,at all events, when the child was brought to the house of hergreat-aunt, it seemed as if he
r mind and character had been too long andtoo uniformly toned to accord with sadness, for happiness to have anypower of taking hold of her.

  The old Marchesa Lanfredi, who took the young Contessa under her roof,and under her care, was not a bad sort of woman in the main; but she wasthoroughly and consistently worldly, and judged everything from aworldly point of view. The Contessa Marliani was an important littlelady in her eyes; and was treated, by her with an indulgence andconsideration which she would have considered out of place in the caseof a child not born to such expectations and such a destiny. She was notcontented with her young relative; but was more perplexed and puzzled byher than angered. And as Violante grew towards womanhood, her great-auntunderstood her less and less.

  In the first place, she had a much stronger tendency towards devotionthan the Marchese Lanfredi thought either natural or becoming in a youngwoman. Of course it was right and proper to pay due attention to one'sreligious duties; there was no necessity to tell her, a CardinalArchbishop's sister, that, it was to be supposed. But she had a strongobjection to excess in such matters. And to her mind Violante carriedher devotional practices, and yet more her devotional ideas, to excess.Of the latter, indeed, the old Marchesa Lanfredi disapproved altogether.Young people had no ideas upon the subject in her time;--and the worldwas certainly a better world then than it had been since.

  And then, worst of all, it gradually became evident to the Marchesa'smind that there was a more or less direct connection in the way of causeand effect between her niece's religious notions and feelings and thestrange readiness she had shown to find objections to both of the twopersons who had been judged by her family to be admissible suitors forher hand. The Marchesa began to entertain a strong apprehension that herniece had conceived the idea of "entering into religion;" i.e. ofbecoming a nun.

  It had been necessary at the time of Violante's first coming to livewith her aunt, to select a governess for her; and a lady had been foundfitted to teach her all that it was proper for a noble young Italianlady to know. But when she became seventeen it was judged expedient tochange this lady for another. A different sort of person was required.Custom and the habits of life and convenience of the Marchesa made itexpedient that a duenna should be provided to attend on the youngContessa; but she was supposed no longer to need an instructress.

  The person selected for this trust was not perhaps altogether such asmight have been desired. By some fatality, arising probably from somelatent incompatibility between the institution itself and the eternalorder of things, it would seem as if the persons entrusted with thatresponsible situation rarely did turn out to be exactly the right peoplein the right place. Perhaps in the case of the young Contessa Violanteher great-aunt had sought to find some attendant and companion for herwho should have a tendency to correct that too great proclivity toretirement from the world--to a life in which religion was the chiefinterest and occupation, and to a sad and unhopeful view of the worldaround and before her--which she lamented in her niece. If so, thechoice she made was not followed by the results she hoped from it; andwas attended by other inconveniences.

  The Signora Assunta Fagiani, the widow of a distinguished Bologneseprofessor of jurisprudence, was certainly quite free from all thosedispositions which the Marchesa regretted in her niece. But she was notaltogether discreet or judicious in the method she adopted forreconciling the young girl to the world, and to worldly views and hopesand objects.

  She very soon perceived that to Violante the consciousness of her ownwant of personal attractions was, despite her yearning for a life to befilled with thoughts and objects to which beauty could contributenothing, a source of bitter and ever-present mortification. There wasinconsistency, doubtless, in regret for the deficiency of personalattraction in persons who, with perfect sincerity, declared tothemselves that to enter a convent was their greatest object in life.But Violante was not aware that if the beauty had been there thedevotional aspirations would not have been there! That, which causesmore deeply implanted in her nature than she knew of were impelling herto desire and to yearn for, the imperfect teaching of the world aroundher had led her to imagine to be unattainable save by the gifts ofpersonal beauty. And, knowing that if that were so there was no hope forher, her bruised heart had sought the only refuge which seemed to beopen to such misfortune.

  The Signora Fagiani's first attempt at finding a remedy for this stateof things consisted of a vigorous endeavour to persuade her pupil thather own estimate of her personal appearance was altogether a mistakenone. All the former experience of the old lady led her to consider thisan easy task. And she was much surprised to find that her insinuations,assertions, and persuasions on this subject were totally thrown away onher pupil. The precious gift of personal vanity had been denied to poorViolante; and she saw herself somewhat more unfavourably than others sawher.

  Then the duenna changed her tactics; and strove to point out how verylittle a pretty face signified to any girl in the position of theContessa di Marliani. To a poor girl, indeed, whose face was herfortune, it was another matter. But the niece of the Cardinal Legate!Bah! Did she imagine that she would lack suitors? She had nothing to dobut to make the most of the advantages in her hand, and she would seeherself surrounded by all the beaux, while the prettiest girls in theroom might go whistle for the smallest scrap of attention, And then,when married, with rank, station, wealth at her command, what would itsignify?

  And in urging all these considerations, the Signora Assunta Fagianispoke at least sincerely, and expended for the benefit of her pupil thebest wisdom that was in her.

  Partly, however, she was working for her own purposes, as well as forthe advantage, as she understood it, of her charge. Of course, as shejudiciously considered, her position gave her, in a great degree, thevaluable patronage of the disposal of the Lady Violante's hand inmarriage. And, of course, this advantage of her position was equallywell understood by others; and among these by a certain Duca di SanSisto, a Bolognese noble, whose sadly-dilapidated fortunes much neededthe aid that might be derived from the coffers of the wealthy CardinalLegate. The Duca di San Sisto had interests at Rome also, which might bemost importantly served by the influence of the Cardinal Marliani. Sothat a marriage with the Lady Violante seemed to be exactly the verything for him. But the cautious, and carefully-masked inquiries whichthe Duke had set on foot, after the fashion in which such things aredone in Italy, had brought him the information that a marriage wasalmost as good as arranged between the lady in question and the MarcheseLudovico di Castelmare, an old acquaintance of the family. Were it notfor that impediment, the Duke thought that he might have good reason tohope that his plan might succeed.

  Now it so happened that the Signora Assunta Fagiani was an old friend ofthe Duca di San Sisto; and when the widow of the professor ofjurisprudence was promoted to the important post she held in thehousehold of the Marchesa Lanfredi, that nobleman did not fail to findmeans for securing the continuance of her friendship. It was the objectand purpose, therefore, of Signora Assunta Fagiani that the LadyViolante should become in due time Duchessa di San Sisto, and notMarchesa di Castelmare. But she understood her position quite wellenough to be aware that the end she had in view must be approachedcautiously and patiently.

  Violante had, of course, been informed at the proper time that herfamily destined her to become the wife of the young Marchese Ludovico diCastelmare. Now, if Violante's temper and disposition had been otherthan it was; had she been able to think of herself differently from whatshe did; had it been possible for her, in a word, to have supposed thatthe Marchese Ludovico loved her, he was the man whom she could mostreadily have taught herself to love. They had been, to a certain degree,acquaintances from an early period of their childhood. He was the onlyyoung man she had ever known with anything like the same degree ofintimacy; and Ludovico, as we know, was not devoid of qualitiescalculated to win a lady's love.

  But Violante knew right well that Ludovico did not love her, and thatthere had never been any probabilit
y that he should do so; and, had sheany lingering doubt on the subject, the good Assunta took very good careto dispel it. And there was a bitterness in this knowledge which didmuch towards producing in Violante the state of mind that has beendescribed. She was not in love with Ludovico, but she had liked him--hewas the only man she had ever liked at all. She knew that she was to bemarried to him if he could be persuaded to marry her, and if she weresufficiently obedient to marry him. She thought that no man could everlove her, and she knew very certainly that this man did not. Her ownhope and firmest purpose, therefore, was, if such resistance to thehigher authorities might in any way be possible to her, to avoid amarriage with Ludovico di Castelmare: if possible to her, she would fainescape from any marriage at all. If this should be altogetherimpossible, then the Duca di San Sisto, as well as anybody else. It wasnot that she had any hope that the Duca di San Sisto would love her:but, at least, it had not been proposed to him to love her, and foundimpossible by him to do so. At least the unloving husband would not bethe one man whom she felt she might have loved had he deemed it worthhis while to ask her love.

  Yet, with all this, Violante had not learned, as perhaps most women inher place would have done, to hate Ludovico for having found itimpossible to love her,--for having condemned her to feel the spretainjuria forma, which so few of the sex can ever forgive. Had she everreached the point of loving him it might, perhaps, have been otherwise.As it was, she was too gentle, too humble, in her estimate of her ownworth and power of attraction to be angry with him: and yet she wassufficiently interested in the matter to listen not unwillingly to allthe gossip that the Signora Assunta poured into her ear about Ludovico,tending to show that he was unworthy of pretending to her hand.

  Assunta's object, of course, was to break the match with the Marchese diCastelmare for the sake of bringing on one with the Duca di San Sisto.

  Violante's object, it has been said, was to avoid any marriage atall--specially that immediately proposed to her; and the stories, whichfrom time to time Assunta brought her of the goings on of Ludovico, hada double interest for Violante. In some sort, all such intelligence wasacceptable to her, as tending to make it unlikely that her only escapefrom a loveless marriage with him would be by her own resistance to thewishes of her family. Yet, at the same time, it was bitter to her, andministered an unwholesome aliment to her morbid self-depreciation.