The record of the hearts of flame which have burned themselves out in the old nest of the phoenix might be indefinitely prolonged, for though battered by many sieges Palliano was never totally destroyed, and formed the background of many a sinister drama. Marie Mancini Colonna, Principessa di Palliano, writes that fear of imprisonment in the dungeon of her titular castle was the principal motive of her flight from her husband in 1672. She had been threatened with such a fate and the threat was not without precedent.
As a prison the Castle of Palliano exists at the present day. Has its symbol of the phoenix attained a new meaning, and is it possible that erring souls issue from its gates, their stains burned clean by purgatorial flame?
[Illustration: Marie Mancini Colonna, Principessa di Palliano, by Mignard
Brother, 't is vain to hide That thou dost know of things mysterious, Immortal, starry; such alone could thus Weigh down thy nature. Hast thou sinned in aught Offensive to the heavenly powers? Caught A Paphian dove upon a message sent? Thy doubtful bow against some deer herd bent Sacred to Dian? Haply thou hast seen Her naked limbs among the alders green And that, alas is death.
It is impossible to saunter even so aimlessly as we have done through the villas of the cardinals of the Renaissance and not feel the potency of the charm by which their builders were enthralled, "the glamour of the world antique."
We may struggle against the spell, telling ourselves that the scope and limits of the present volume will not permit of a glance at the villas of ancient Rome, but they insidiously steal upon us through those of the Renaissance. Particularly is this true of the Villa d'Este and the Villa Albani, magic gateways both leading directly into that earlier, and only real, Rome.
For, though separated by the gulf of many centuries from the villa of the Emperor Hadrian at Tivoli, they are virtually ante-chambers to that once magnificent palace.
We might turn from the attractive vista which they reveal but for an alluring phantom which can never be disassociated from those imperial ruins, a face whose beauty and pathos draws us on irresistibly to solve the mystery of its gentle sadness.