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 tit 
 
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 to tf)t ?2onourrtl flrUmon) of 
 
 Ijtr feusbantt, 
 Bon IHicfjelantselo OTactant, 
 
 )uca tit 
 
 tljesit 
 
 arc JhuSfribtli bv ifyt 
 Inttl) 
 
 Btbmiuc, ratituUe, anK Affection. 
 
 " Or va', che un sol volere e d'ambedue : 
 Tu Duca tu Signore, e tu Maestro." 
 
 La Divina Commedia, Inf. c. ii, 1. 109, no.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THE Essays which form this little volume have been re- 
 printed, with additions, from the various magazines and 
 reviews where they were first published. 1 ' 
 
 They do not pretend to be other than studies, outlines 
 of thought, which may perhaps suggest how many a rich 
 spoil still remains to be gathered from the glorious page of 
 Italian literature. For to the student this can never cease 
 to glow with fascinating interest. Undimmed by the 
 course of centuries, it remains as vivid as the golden 
 ground of a picture by Fra Angelico, if indeed it may not 
 be said to gather from each succeeding age an added lustre, 
 like the glittering mosaic of San Miniato, mellowed in the 
 sunsets of 800 years. 
 
 The imagination which has passed in awe and wonder 
 before the sublime conception of the " Divina Coinmedia," 
 may next pursue in the smooth numbers of Petrarch a 
 romance of such unrivalled constancy as would have suf- 
 ficed to create the romantic age, had it had no other origin 
 or existence, and finally kindled to divine enthusiasm 
 
 1 The St. Paul's Magazine, Macmillan's Magazine, the Church 
 Quarterly Review, the Edinburgh, Review. The Legend of " II 
 Cenacolo " is reprinted from the Churchman's Companion.
 
 viii PREFACE. 
 
 and led by Tasso, the Christian poet-knight, may follow 
 all the chivalry of Europe to worship at the Holy Shrine. 
 
 Again, when the drama of Italy in all its various forms 
 has supplied a manifold enjoyment, the eye and ear, 
 satiated with pleasure, may seek repose in the veiled light 
 and solemn hush of the great libraries, which served as 
 treasure-houses for the vast stores of learning till the art 
 of printing should one day disperse them over the world. 
 
 Here, in the still atmosphere, the manuscript folios 
 which line the walls, the glowing pages of some missal, 
 illuminated perhaps by Fra Angelico or Francia, jealously 
 guarded from the ravages of time, remain as silent witnesses 
 to the truth that " Labour is the price the gods have set 
 upon everything that is valuable." 
 
 What if the dust of centuries has accumulated round 
 the forgotten tomes; what if the hands which traced 
 them have long since mouldered in the grave. Will not 
 the dust " hear and beat," the " wonted fires " quicken 
 into life at the approaching freedom of the " Patria Terra " ? 
 
 Favoured theme of Poetry, all-powerful to wing the 
 thoughts and dip the pen in fire, one after another the 
 sons of Italy pour forth their indefatigable lays and utter 
 the aspirations never to cease till the sword is sheathed in 
 the hour of victory, and the pen laid aside after celebrating 
 the song of triumph. 
 
 " Deh fossi tu men bella ! " is a lament which belongs 
 to a bygone age. Now that each one of her States, has put 
 her individual jewel into the circlet of freedom's crown, 
 rich in natural beauty, with every added treasure of 
 literature and art, let Italy reign " dalle Alpi al mar." 
 
 If there are any to whom the fair beauty of Italy has 
 ever appealed in vain, it is certainly not to the student of 
 her literature, when the time comes to tread the streets 
 that Dante trod, to touch the stone where he was wont
 
 PBEFACE. ix 
 
 to sit, lost in thought, contemplating his beloved " San 
 Giovanni," the "fonte del mio battesimo," where, alas ! for 
 his cruel fate, he was never to receive the poet's crown. 
 
 All around, in unchanging beauty, lie the scenes on 
 which his eyes loved to rest the soft, purple outlines of 
 the mountains ; the Arno rolling down its waters, now 
 green with snow from the Apennines, now irridescent 
 with every hue of the changing sky, " E cento miglia di 
 corso nol sazia;" 2 the soft mists of the morning, the 
 "dolce color d' oriental zaffiro" 3 gathered up into the 
 zenith of the cloudless atmosphere, the white "Buoi di 
 pari, a giogo," 4 coming down from San Miniato, as the 
 evening shadows fall and the familiar outlines of the 
 Duomo and the Campanile, the Palazzo Vecchio and 
 Santa Croce vest themselves in varying liveries of purple, 
 red, and gold, till the sun sinks suddenly behind the 
 last blue outline of the horizon, and the grey curtain of 
 twilight falls on the fair scene ; then across the gulf of 
 centuries comes the echo of the 
 
 Squilla di lontano 
 Che parve il giorno pianger che si muore." * 
 
 If then these few studies should prove sufficiently 
 attractive to tempt other students to search for themselves 
 in the same mine of inexhaustible treasures, they will not 
 have been written in vain. 
 
 It only remains to add that the translations of poetry 6 
 which bear the initials E. P. were supplied by the late 
 Eight Honourable Sir Eobert Phillimore, and that it 
 is from the recollection of the faultless taste and wise 
 
 J Purg. xiv. 1. 18. 3 Ibid. i. 13. 
 
 * Ibid. xii. 1. * Ibid. viii. 6. 
 
 6 Pp. 229, 233, 236.
 
 x PREFACE. 
 
 criticism which guided the revision of the Essays in 
 their original form that their writer now derives the 
 courage necessary to bid them once more 
 
 " uscir del bosco 
 E gir infra la gente." ' 
 
 CATHERINE MARY PHILLIMORE. 
 
 THE COPPICE, HENLEY-CN-THAMBS. 
 November, 1886. 
 
 1 " Rime del Petrarca." Canzone XIV.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGK 
 
 I. THE "PABADISO" OF DANTE. A SKETCH . . 1 
 
 II. PETEAECH : AN ESSAY UPON HIS LIFE, TIMES, AND 
 
 WOEKS. Parts I., II 20 
 
 III. TOBQUATO TASSO : AN ESSAY UPON HIS LlFE AND 
 
 WOBKS. Parts I., II 60 
 
 IV. THE PRINCE PEINTEES OP ITALY. Parts I., II. . 95 
 
 V. THE ITALIAN DBAMA. Parts I., II., III., IV., V. . 128 
 
 VI. MANZONI. A SKETCH 228 
 
 VII. ALEAEDO ALEAEDI ....... 246 
 
 VIII. COUNT AEEIVABENE 276 
 
 IX. EDOAEDO Fusco 294 
 
 A LEGEND OF "!L CENACOLO.'' A POEM 320
 
 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEEATUEE. 
 
 THE "PAKADISO" OF DAXTE. 
 A SKETCH. 
 
 "Qual alto seggio 
 
 T" abhia assegnato Dio ne le sue glorie, 
 Alighiero, non so. So che la tua 
 Italia ti loco nel piil sublime. 
 So ch' ella sempre t' oblid nei giorni 
 De la vilta : ma ai di de la speranza 
 Legge il tuo libro ; e ormai piu non t' oblia." ' 
 
 PERHAPS of the three parts of the " Divina Commedia " 
 the " Paradiso " is the least dwelt upon by English stu- 
 dents of the great Italian poet. It has the just reputation 
 of being the part most difficult of comprehension in the 
 whole poem. Those who attempt to read it are deterred 
 from doing so by the allegories and metaphors which, 
 frequently employed throughout the work, occur in almost 
 every line of the " Paradiso ; " by the arrangement of 
 the heavenly spheres according to the now exploded 
 Ptolemaical system ; and, above all, by the theological 
 and philosophical expositions which, it must be admitted, 
 are not entirely free from the scholasticism prevalent 
 in the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries. 
 
 These appear to be some of the reasons why the 
 " Paradiso," considered by Italian critics the greatest effort 
 of Dante's mind, is so little appreciated by foreigners. 
 
 With the exception of Gary, whose translation and 
 
 1 " Canti di Aleardo Aleardi," p. 119.
 
 2 SADIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 whose notes are admitted by all to be equally good 
 throughout the poem, the English commentators and 
 essayists upon the " Divina Commedia," after criticizing 
 in the most able and elaborate manner the " Inferno "and 
 the " Purgatorio," scarcely mention the " Paradiso," and 
 thus convey the impression that it is inferior to the pre- 
 ceding portions of the poem. 
 
 To cite one example, so important that no other is 
 required, Lord Macaulay in his " Criticisms on the Prin- 
 cipal Italian Writers," points out the best passages, dwells 
 upon the beauty of the style, the unity and consistency 
 of the poem, its minute details and powerful descriptions ; 
 but only with reference to the "Inferno" and "Purga- 
 torio." When he conies to the " Paradiso " he dismisses 
 the subject in a few lines : " But among the beatified 
 he [Dante] appears as one who has nothing in common 
 with them, as one who is incapable of comprehending, 
 not only the degree, but the nature of their enjoyment." 
 And further on : " When we read Dante, the poet 
 vanishes. We are listening to the man who has re- 
 turned from ' the valley of the dolorous abyss.' We 
 seem to see the dilated eye of horror, to hear the shud- 
 dering accents with which he tells his fearful tale." 2 
 
 No mention is made of the reverse side of the mar- 
 vellous picture presented to us by Dante, the spheres of 
 eternal bliss, the ceaseless songs of praise, the heavenly 
 hope, the blessed consolation of which he treats in the 
 " Paradiso," and which the Italian critics, in their enthu- 
 siastic admiration, declare to be a kind of foretaste of the 
 joys of il vero Paradiso. 
 
 The object of this paper is to endeavour to remove some 
 of the difficulties which are to be encountered in the study 
 of the " Paradiso," to give, if possible, a clue to the alle- 
 gory which lies concealed in the poem, and thus to guide 
 the reader to its manifold beauties. 
 
 It may also be urged in favour of so slight a sketch that 
 few can really study the immortal poet without longing 
 to add their contribution, however small it may be, to 
 the livelong monument which every year increases to 
 
 2 " The Miscellaneous Writings of Lord Macaulay," vol. i. pp. 
 62, 63.
 
 THE " PAR ADI so " OP DANTE. 3 
 
 otie who may divide with Shakespeare his inheritance 
 of fame. 
 
 Such is the double end proposed by a paper which 
 has been compiled from the best Italian writers and 
 commentators upon the subject. Among these standing 
 ever foremost "si come Sire" 3 is the late Duca di Ser- 
 moneta, upon whom his compatriot Dantophiles have 
 unanimously conferred the title of the " Restore dei 
 moderni Dantisti." 
 
 Nowhere could this title have appeared more aptly con- 
 ferred than when in the " Sala della Palombeila " at 
 Home there fell from his own lips the exposition of the 
 " Paradise," 
 
 " Facesti come quei che va di notte, 
 Che porta il lume dietro, e se non giova, 
 Ma dopo se fa le persoue dotte;" 4 
 
 and, out of the dark night of his blindness, the Duca, who, 
 with the exception of some twenty lines, knew by heart 
 the whole poem, shed beams of light which revealed 
 every hidden depth of the author's meaning, seeing and 
 telling 
 
 ' ' Of things invisible to mortal sight." 
 
 These expositions it was not given to all to hear, but 
 all may study for themselves his " Tavole Topografiche," 
 the work of an earlier period of his life, before the terrible 
 visitation of blindness arrested his career as an artist, 
 
 " It is not possible," says De Witte, writing of these 
 Tavole, " to place with greater clearness and precision 
 before the eye of the reader the fabric of the Universe 
 as conceived by Dante for the scene of his poem." 5 
 
 The Duca was also the author of a treatise, entitled 
 " Tre Chiose nella Divina Comniedia di Dante," or " Three 
 
 3 Inf. c. iv., 1. 87. 
 
 < Purg. c. xxii., 1. 67-9. 
 
 " Thou didst, as one, 
 
 Who journeying through the darkness bears a light 
 Behind, that profits not himself, but makes 
 His followers wise." 
 
 Cart/, Trant. 
 
 5 " Carteggio Dantesco," p. 41. 
 B 2
 
 4 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Glosses upon three disputed points in the Divina Com- 
 iiH'dia," which created a great sensation in Italy, both 
 on account of their wonderful research and erudition and 
 f<>r the translucent purity of the style. 6 
 
 Besides these " lavori da me eseguiti," the Duca writes, 
 "per giovare alia letteratura di Dante e non alia mia 
 rinomanza," 7 but which certainly fulfilled both purposes, 
 we can now refer to his Dante correspondence with such 
 well-known commentators as De Witte, Giuliani, De 
 Gubernatis, Carlo Troya, Trevisani, Ranieri, Alessandro, 
 Torn, <fcc. 
 
 It is not necessary to enter into the many close and 
 intricate speculations upon their great theme discussed 
 iu those pages, but there is one suggestion made by the 
 " Nestore dei Dantisti " which should never be lost sight 
 of by the student of the "Divina Commedia." 
 
 With apt illustration of the position he is about to 
 advance, the Duca cites the passage in the " Inferno " where 
 the Signor d' Altaforte, holding the severed head in his 
 hand, 
 
 " Di se faceva a se stesso lucernH ;" 
 
 Inf. c. xxix. 1. 124. 
 
 and goes on to say, " The first, the best authority to refer to 
 in the exposition of " Divina Commedia " is Dante himself, 
 either in the poem itself, or in his other authenticated 
 works. Among these I never could imagine why any 
 doubt was cast upon the authenticity of his ' Epistola 
 a Can Grande,' for who could possibly have invented or 
 curried the fraud to such a pass 1 If any one still enter- 
 tains this doubt, I, for my part, question if he has ever 
 understood a line of Dante, and of such there are not a few 
 in the present day." 8 
 
 fi The third of the " Tre Chiose " was adjudged to he the " Com- 
 mento Trionfale," because it revealed a special affinity of urtist 
 sentiment between the commentator and his subject. It dealt with 
 the " Allegory of the Eagle of the Empire," Par. xviii. 76 e seq , and 
 pave an interpretation pointing out the similitude between the 
 (iothic M., the Florentine Lily, and the Imperial Eagle, which hnd 
 hitherto orcurred to no one of the many expositors of the " Divina 
 Commedisi." 
 
 " " Carteggio Dnntesco," p. 57. 
 
 8 Ibid., p. 56, 57.
 
 THE " PARADISO " OF DANTE. 5 
 
 Such is the advice of the last and noblest of the 
 public exponents of the " Divina Commedia " in the Sala 
 della Palombella at Rome in 1882. some five and a 
 half centuries after the author had rested in an exile's 
 grave, and the self-same introduction to the study of the 
 " Paradiso " was employed by Filippo Villani, who suc- 
 ceeded Boccaccio in the office of public reader of the 
 " Divina Commedia " within the first half-century of its 
 appearance in the astonished world. 
 
 The advice bears especially upon the study of the 
 " Paradiso " because it is that portion of the poem which 
 is dedicated to Can Grande della Scala on account of 
 his pre-eminence in Dante's opinion over the other 
 potentates of Italy : because the most sublime cantica of 
 the " Divina Commedia," the noblest effort of the author's 
 genius, is the only fitting acknowledgment of the " Cor- 
 tesia del gran Lombardo " which afforded him his first 
 refuge and shelter in his exile. 1 
 
 " Therefore," writes Dante in this epistle, " to show my 
 grateful sense of the many benefits conferred upon me, 
 I sought diligently among those things which it was in my 
 power to give, passing even in review those which were 
 most secret, in order to find for presentation what would 
 be the worthiest, the most acceptable. Nor could I find 
 anything more in keeping with the greatness of your sta- 
 tion than this the most sublime cantica of the Commedia 
 which is adorned with the title of the ' Paradiso.' This 
 is my present epistle, signed with my own autograph, I 
 inscribe, offer, and finally recommend to you." 2 
 
 This remarkable letter proceeds to point out the links 
 which connect the " Paradiso " with the two preceding por- 
 tions of the " Divina Commedia." For the poem is framed 
 on a plan of perfect symmetry, and one train of thought 
 runs through it all. It must then be borne in mind 
 that, among a variety of minor allegories, the two chief 
 interpretations which the poem is capable of are these : 
 
 1. Political, or, as Dante himself calls it, Historical ; 
 and it is in truth an autobiographical narrative of his- 
 torical events of Dante's age (1265 1321), chiefly those 
 
 1 Par. xvii. 69. 
 
 2 " Jl Couvito di Dante Alighieri e le Epistole," p. 511.
 
 6 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEBATUBE. 
 
 of his own country, but embracing also other nations, so 
 far as they were connected with Italy, with constant allu- 
 sions to ancient history, and that of the middle ages up 
 to his own time. This is the first aspect which the poem 
 presents to the reader. 
 
 2. Moral. The " Inferno" and the " Purgatorio" were 
 intended by the poet to be representations of the active 
 life of man. To trace the allegory from its beginning, 
 Dante, that is to say, man, or a human being, endowed 
 with reasoning faculties, mental and physical capacities 
 of feeling, and the liberty of choice having lost his way 
 iu the forest of human passion, vainly endeavours to 
 escape from it and to climb the steep hill of virtue, but is 
 hindered chiefly by three vices envy, avarice, and pride. 
 This is all related in the first canto of the " Inferno." He 
 is so repeatedly foiled in his attempts that he is about 
 to abandon the enterprise in despair, when Virgil, re- 
 presenting moral philosophy, appears to him. Virgil 
 rescues Dante from the wood, and because he had fallen 
 80 far from virtue that it is necessary to show him the 
 fearful consequences of vice, takes him down the Abyss 
 of Hell, where he points out the certain punishment 
 which overtakes each crime. This is the symbol of human 
 reason directing the liberty of will and indicating the ruin 
 which would result from the gratification of the natural 
 appetites and passions. 
 
 In the " Purgatorio " Virgil conducts Dante up a 
 steep and painful ascent, hardest in the beginning, but be- 
 coming gradually easier till it ends in the terrestrial Para- 
 dise at the summit. Thus moral philosophy or reason 
 exercises its sway over the mind of man in another way, 
 by the desire for good, showing him that in order to attain 
 this good he must mortify his evil inclinations and correct 
 his faults ; and this, although difficult and painful at first, 
 becomes easier by degrees, until at length he finds that 
 " her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her paths are 
 peace." As the '* Inferno " and the " Purgatorio " are 
 allegorical representations of the active life of man, so the 
 " Paradise " would represent the contemplative life, the 
 rest which the soul must find in God to use Dante's own 
 beautiful expression, " Nel vero in che si queta ogn' intel-
 
 THE "PAKADISO" OF DANTE. 7 
 
 letto." 3 Dante takes for his guide in Paradise Beatrice, the 
 lady whom he loved so passionately when on earth, and in 
 whose honour the "Divina Commedia " was written, be- 
 cause, as he himself says, " Spero dire di lei quello, 
 che mai non fu detta d' alcuna." In order, then, to render 
 her due honour, he makes her to be the allegorical repre- 
 sentation of the " Scienza Divina," or theology, endowing 
 her with heavenly wisdom. 
 
 As moral philosophy applied to the mind of man can- 
 not stretch beyond a certain point, but must give place to 
 a higher knowledge that is to say, theology so Virgil 
 cannot accompany Dante beyond the two first stages of 
 his journey, but must yield his function of guide to 
 Beatrice, in order to fit Dante's mind for the proper 
 appreciation of the glories of Paradise. 
 
 With all the penetration and subtlety of an Italian 
 mind, Dante perceived that only by degrees could he 
 fathom, figuratively speaking, the depths of evil, or attain 
 to the summit of perfection. Thus with the same art 
 which led him to descend by degrees through the worst 
 vices of the human race in their allotted place of punish- 
 ment, till he reached their author at the bottom of the 
 abyss ; so, having previously purified his mind from all 
 material corruptions in the cleansing fires of Purgatory, 
 with a soul possessed of active and contemplative faculties, 
 with science for his ladder, and theology for his guide, 
 he passes from sphere to sphere in his " Paradise " until 
 at length he reaches the culminating point of perfection, 
 the " beauty of that holiness," in which with all the 
 fervour of a deeply religious mind he longs to worship 
 the vision of divine glory. Here, as Gary admirably 
 renders the original, 
 
 " Vigour failed the towering fantasy : 
 But yet the will roll'd onward like a wheel 
 In even motion, by the love impelled, 
 That moves the sun in heaven and all the stars." * 
 
 In the " Paradiso," the religious preponderates over the 
 political or historical aspect of the poem ; but it is im- 
 possible, and, indeed, a mistake, to attempt to define too 
 
 3 Par. xxviii. 1. 10S. 
 
 4 Gary's " Dante," Par. xxxiii. 131 135.
 
 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 dearly where the one ends and the other begins, they are 
 so closely intertwined that they are often merged entirely 
 one in the other. Still, with the exception of the three 
 i Miitos which Dante devotes to the historical account of 
 his ancestor Cacciaguida, and one or two other episodes, 
 the " Paradiso," true to the allegory which it is intended 
 to convey, contains, for the most part, profound disserta- 
 tions upon theology and philosophy. 
 
 That it was intended for minds of a more meditative 
 class, who would not need the stirring incidents of the 
 " Inferno" and " Purgatorio," with the historical interest 
 attaching to them, Dante himself announces at the outset 
 of the poem in the figurative language which he delighted 
 to employ, having first warned the careless and superficial 
 reader not to attempt to understand this part of the 
 " Divina Commedia," 
 
 "O voi che siete in piccioletta barca, 
 Desiderosi d' ascoltar, seguiti 
 Dietro nl mio legtio che cantando varca, 
 
 Tornate a riveder li vostri liti : 
 Non vi mettete in pelago, che forse, 
 Perdendo me, rimarreste smarriti. 
 * * * * 
 
 Voi altri pochi, che drizzaste '1 collo 
 Per tempo al pan degli ungeli, del quale 
 Vi \v-i ijui, ma non si vieii satollo, 
 Metter potete ben per 1' alto sale 
 Vostro naviglio, servando mio solco 
 Diminzi all' acqua cho ritorna eguale." 5 
 
 1 " All ye, who in small bark have following sailed, 
 Eager to listen, on the adventurous track 
 Of my proud keel, that singing cuts her way, 
 Backward return with speed, and your own shoves 
 Kevisit ; nor put out to open sea, 
 Win-re losing me, perchance ye may remain 
 Bewildtr'd in deep maze . . . 
 
 * * * * 
 
 Ye other few, who have outstretched the neck 
 Timely for food of angels, on which here 
 They live, yet never know satiety ; 
 Through the deep brine ye fearless may put out 
 Your vessel ; marking well the furrow broad 
 Before you in the wave, that on both sides 
 Equal returns." 
 
 CABY'S Dante, Par. ii.
 
 THE " PARADISO " OF DANTE. 9 
 
 To this latter order of student, and more especially to 
 those who consider the two sciences, philosophy and 
 theology, as only two different methods of arriving at the 
 same conclusion, two different roads to one end, the 
 " Paradiso " will always afford food for meditation of the 
 highest order. And here the rare moderation which the 
 author displays in keeping within the bounds of human 
 capacity is worthy of especial remark. Having respect to 
 the profound nature of his subject, he does not attempt 
 to penetrate into hidden matters, or strive to comprehend 
 what is- purposely veiled from our eyes. 
 
 He is nevertheless determined that his poem shall con- 
 tain all the sciences of the age, and therefore he founds 
 it upon three systems, of which it is intended to be the 
 exposition philosophy, theology, and astronomy. With 
 regard to philosophy, both natural and moral, that of 
 Aristotle only was studied in the schools at that time. 
 Dante was first instructed in it by his master, Brunetto 
 Latini ; he afterwards pursued these studies in the schools 
 at Bologna, and never ceased adding to them during all 
 the long years of his exile from his country. The fruits 
 of his immense research appear in the "Divina Corn- 
 media," but chiefly in the two first parts ; in the " Para- 
 diso," however, philosophy gradually disappears, or rather 
 expands into theology, the natural result of its teaching, 
 and there this last and highest science finds its widest 
 scope and attains its full development. Dante dwells 
 upon the great truths of the Christian religion the 
 creation, the fall of man, the incarnation, the redemption 
 and satisfaction, and the resurrection of the body; he 
 reasons upon them with an accuracy and with a depth of 
 thought which drew from the learned Salvini, in his letter 
 to Redi, the following encomium : 
 
 " Se volete saper la vita mia, 
 Studiando io sto lungi da tutti gli uornini ; 
 Kd Lo imparato piu Teologia 
 In quest! giorni, che ho riletto Dante, 
 Che nelle Scuole fatto io non avria." 
 
 Aptly rendered by Gary 
 
 " And dost thou ask what themes my mind engage ? 
 The lonely hours I give to Dante's page ;
 
 10 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 And meet more sacred learning in his lines, 
 Thau I had gained from all the school divines." 
 
 Perhaps in some respects this may be considered the 
 most remarkable feature in the poem, considering the time 
 in which the author lived. So far as the other sciences 
 were concerned, Dante was able, with the assistance of 
 the schools, to dive into their greatest depths and repro- 
 duce them in clear and concise forms in one of the noblest 
 epic poems that ever was composed. But with theology 
 it was different. Although it was professedly taught in 
 the schools with the other sciences, it was then the policy 
 of the Roman Church to keep men in profound ignorance. 
 Any attempt at reasoning would have been fatal to many 
 of her pretensions, and it was therefore immediately sup- 
 pressed at the expense of justice and humanity. In her 
 sordid love of gain, even the exposition of the funda- 
 mental dogmas of the religion which she professed to 
 teach were neglected. 
 
 " Per questo [says Dante], 1' Evangelio e i dottor magni 
 Son derelitti ; e solo ai Decretal! 
 Si studia si, che appare a' lor vivagni, 
 A questo intende '1 papa e i cardinali ; 
 Non vanno i lor pensieri a Nazzarette, . 
 
 La dove Gabriello aperse 1' all." 6 
 
 Such being the state of things, not only is Dante's thorough 
 knowledge of the Bible a source of perpetual wonder to the 
 student of his works, but also that he should have had both 
 the discernment and the courage to place his finger upon 
 the real cause of the shortcomings of the Eoman Church. 
 With a reasoning and philosophical mind, he discerned 
 then what liberal-minded members of the Roman com- 
 munion have only lately discovered that the combina- 
 tion of the spiritual and temporal power was never 
 intended, that the exercise of the spiritual power was 
 crippled and thwarted by worldly motives attached to 
 
 " For this, 
 
 The gospel and great teachers laid aside, 
 The decretals, as their stuffed margins show, 
 Are the sole study. Pope and cardinals 
 Intent on these, ne'er journey but in thought 
 To Nazareth, where Gabriel ope'd his wings." 
 
 CABY'S Dante, Par. c. ix. 129134.
 
 THE "PAKADISO" OF DANTE. 11 
 
 temporal possessions, which choked up the fountain of 
 the Church's life and poisoned its source. In some of the 
 most famous passages of the " Paradiso " Dante protests 
 against the corrupt state of the Roman Church, and this 
 we find put into forcible language by a modern poet, who, 
 apostrophizing Dante, observes : 
 
 " Tu saettasti 51 Vaticano, e i sacri 
 Sardanapali da 1' altar, ingordi 
 De la caduca signoria del mondo, 
 Inesorato giustizier." ' 
 
 From century to century the echo of this passionate 
 aspiration has been taken up in turn by the great sons of 
 Italy and borne down the course of the world's history. 
 Petrarch, Savonarola, Fra Paolo Sarpi, Rosmini, Gioberti, 
 Minghetti, Curci, and Cavour, these, and many more, 
 have striven for that grand idea of the position of the 
 Roman Church first conceived by Dante, of her influence 
 over the temporal affairs of the world, when uncontami- 
 nated by their touch, which would far exceed any yet 
 achieved in the palmiest days of her worldly prosperity, 
 when her throne was established upon ignorance and crime. 
 
 At last in 1870 the dream seemed about to be realized 
 by the enforced severance of the temporal from the 
 spiritual power of the Pope, that last link of the fetters 
 by which Italy had so long been enslaved. Then the 
 great Italian Liberals paused in final expectation, while 
 upon the Duca di Sermoneta, the most prominent figure 
 on that memorable occasion, devolved the task of pre- 
 senting the result of the plebiscite to the king, which, by 
 a majority of over one hundred and thirty thousand votes, 
 gave Rome to be the capital of United Italy. But like 
 all those who had preceded him in the great but hopeless 
 cause, the Duca watched and waited in vain for any sign 
 from the Vatican. 
 
 Clinging with sullen obstinacy to the shadow when the 
 substance had been withdrawn, the Papacy would not 
 divest itself of the " porupa Bisantina," which to his 
 mind was so unfitting a robe for the Church of Christ. 
 
 He could only sadly compare the Papacy to the Basilica 
 of San Paolo fuori le Mura, 
 
 7 " Canti di Aleardo Aleardi," p. 118.
 
 12 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " L'antica Basilica era ricca nella cua poverta ; 
 
 Questa e povera nelle sue richezze." 8 
 And when twelve more years had passed by recom- 
 mend, as a faithful son of the Church, with his last 
 utterances the cause of truth and liberty to the Pope, 
 imploring him to recollect 
 
 " Che la religione non si ottiene con gli sbirri." ! 
 
 We now reach the last of the three systems which 
 form the groundwork of the poem namely, astronomy. 
 Here, still pursuing his system of explaining invisible 
 things by things visible, Dante, by means of the material 
 heavens, endeavours to represent to our minds the unseen 
 world of bliss. Perhaps of all the allegories and meta- 
 phors which have ever been employed for the purpose of 
 turning away our minds from the world and giving them a 
 glimpse of heavenly things, the elaborate composition of 
 the Italian poet, when carefully studied, is the most suc- 
 cessful. The beautiful choice of language, the carefully 
 selected metaphors, the vivid imagery suggested by a 
 brilliant Italian imagination, all these at first surprise our 
 minds into the belief of the wonderful conception pre- 
 sented to them, and the illusion once formed is preserved 
 with consummate art. All the science the world was 
 then capable of is brought in to convince our reason, and 
 make a solid foundation on which to erect the fanciful 
 and marvellous conceit. Even the method of progress 
 through the heavenly spheres is adapted to strengthen at 
 once the allegory and the illusion. Beatrice is drawn 
 upwards by fixing her eyes first upon the sun, and after- 
 wards, as she continues her ascending course, she lifts 
 them higher and higher up to the throne of God, and 
 Dante, by fixing his eyes upon hers, which at every stage 
 of their progress seem to shine with increased brilliancy, 
 is caught up together with her. 2 
 
 Dante marvels at their rapid flight, and it is explained 
 to him by Beatrice in the following remarkable passage : 
 
 " Lc cose tntte quante 
 Hanu 'online tra loro: e questo e forma, 
 
 8 "Carteggio, Dantesco," p. 37. ' Ibid., p. 36. 
 
 3 Convito, iii. 15.
 
 THE " PARADISO " OF DANTE. 13 
 
 Che 1' universe a Dio fa somigliante. 
 
 Qui veggion 1' alte creature 1' orma 
 
 Dell' eterno valore, il quale e fine, 
 
 Al quxle e fatta la toccata norma. 
 
 Nell' ordine ch' io dico sono accline 
 
 Tutte nature per diverse sorti 
 
 Piu al principio loro, e men vicine : 
 
 Onde si muovouo a diversi porti 
 
 Per lo gran mar dell' easere : e cinscuna 
 
 Con istinto a lei dato cbe la porti.'' 3 
 
 That is to say, every created thing is destined for a dis- 
 tinct end, to which it gradually tends. With man this 
 destination is heaven. It is, therefore, as natural a con- 
 sequence as that the smoke should mount upwards, that 
 when freed from all hindrances such as sin, and the 
 material incumbrances of the body which confine him to 
 earth, his spirit should ascend to God who gave it. 
 
 And here we would direct the attention of the student 
 of the " Divina Coramedia" to the wonderful description 
 of the first disembodiment of the spirit which forms so 
 fitting an introduction to the theme of the " Paradise :" 
 
 " E quando Lacbesis non ha piu lino, 
 Solvesi dalla came, ed in virtute 
 Seco ne porta e 1' umano e '1 divino. 
 L' altre potenzie tutte quante mnte : 
 Memoria, intelligenzia e volontade, 
 In atto, molto piu che prima, acute. 
 Senz' arrestarsi, per se stessa cade 
 Mirabilmente all' una delle rive : 
 Quivi conosce prima le sue strade," &c. 4 
 
 3 "Among themselves all things 
 Have order ; and from hence the form, which makes 
 The universe resemble GOD. In this 
 The higher creatures see the printed steps 
 Of that eternal worth, which is the end 
 Whither the line is drawn. All natures lean, 
 In this their order, diversely ; some more, 
 Some less, Approaching to their primal source. 
 Thus they to different havens are movrd on 
 Through the vast sea of being, antl each one 
 With instinct given, that bears it in its course." 
 
 CAST'S Dante, Par. c. i. 104109. 
 
 4 Cary, Trans. Purg. xxv. 79 e seq. 
 
 " When Lachesis hath spun her thread, the soul 
 Takes with her both the human and divine
 
 14 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATUKF 
 
 Almost startling in its simplicity, and yet how far more 
 suggestive is this calm, direct statement, than the many 
 elaborate theories which have since, from time to time, 
 been advanced to solve the awful mystery, and satisfy the 
 strongest longing of which the human soul is capable. 
 
 For many a long year Dante was absorbed in the sola 
 contemplation of the world of spirits a world, it is true, 
 of his own framing yet by the concentration of his great 
 intelligence upon " the things which are not seen " in- 
 stead of upon " the things which are seen," his words, 
 when dealing with the invisible world, if they cannot be 
 accepted as absolute authority have still a certain resistless 
 power and weight. They captivate and convince that 
 spiritual side of our nature to which the whole of the 
 " Divine Commedia " is addressed. 
 
 "The subject then of the whole composition, stated 
 simply, is, the condition of the soul after death, because 
 upon this the whole poem turns. 
 
 * * * * 
 
 "The final object (of the poem), both in its part or as 
 a whole, may be simple or complicated, obvious or remote ; 
 but setting aside all subtle and close speculations, let it be 
 briefly stated that the object alike of each part and of the 
 whole is to rescue men from passing their lives in a 
 state of misery, and to direct them into the way of 
 happiness." 5 
 
 To return to the astronomical side of the " Paradiso." 
 It is scarcely necessary to observe that the Ptolemaical 
 system of astronomy was the only one known in Dante's 
 pge. 6 The " Paradiso " is, therefore, made to correspond 
 exactly with that arrangement of the heavenly bodies. 
 
 Memory, intelligence, and will, in net 
 Fur keener than before : the other powers 
 Inactive all and mute. No pause allowed, 
 In wondrous sort self-moving, to one strxnd 
 Of those where the departed roam, she falls : 
 Here learns her destined path," &c. 
 
 s " Epistola a Can Grande della Scale. II Convito e le EpUtole di 
 Ihnte," p. 521. 
 
 For further particulars respecting the Ptolemaical system, see 
 Lewis's "Astronomy of the Ancieiits," chap. iv. sec. 10.
 
 THE " PAEADISO " OP DANTE. 15 
 
 The earth is placed below, in the centre of the universe, 
 and round it revolve, in perpetually increasing and as- 
 cending circles, the planets the Moon, Mercury, Yenus, 
 the Sun, Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn. Beyond these he 
 places the starry sphere, or sphere of fixed stars ; then 
 the crystalline sphere, called also "il primo mobile," being 
 the primary cause of motion of the other planets ; and, 
 last of all, the empyrean, which, in the opening stanzas of 
 the "Paradiso," Dante tells us, partakes more largely of 
 the light of God's immediate presence, and is termed the 
 " cielo quieto," or immutable sphere. 
 
 It would have been impossible, taking into considera- 
 tion the limited knowledge of the age, with its imperfect 
 system of astronomy, to have formed a grander idea of 
 the heavens than that Avhich Dante unfolds to us. Its 
 perfect symmetry is even more manifest when we con- 
 sider its allegorical and scientific meaning. Proceeding 
 from the centre to the circumference, and gradually 
 increasing in width and in height, the revolving spheres 
 represent the various stages of heavenly bliss, showing the 
 gradations by which the highest may be obtained ; and it 
 is a curious fact that this metaphor was adopted by the 
 Jesuit preacher, II Padre Segneri, in the seventeenth 
 century. In his famous " Quaresimale," the sermon upon 
 the text, " Domine bonum est nos hie esse," treats of the 
 joys of heaven " Al cielo, al cielo, fedeli rniei devotis- 
 sirno, al cielo, al cielo," are the opening words ; and then, 
 after pointing out to his congregation the " curioso viaggio 
 che avete da fare nello spazio minore d' un ora," he exactly 
 adopts the Dantesque arrangement of the spheres." 7 
 
 It is hardly necessary to cite one of our most eminent 
 divines to prove the truth of what Dante advances with 
 respect to doctrine, although, with the characteristic 
 difference between an English and an Italian mind, he 
 does not attempt to describe the means by which these 
 degrees of bliss will be established. Bishop Bull, in his 
 sermon upon "the different degrees of bliss in heaven," 
 observes : " There shall be degrees of bliss and glory in 
 Christ's heavenly kingdom, and the more we abound in 
 grace and good works here, the more abundant shall our 
 7 Segneri, " Quaresimale." Predica x. a. iv.
 
 16 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 reward be hereafter." f Still more modern preachers have 
 urged that " as the righteous may go from strength to 
 strength here, so hereafter they may go from glory to glory, 
 as one star differeth from another star in glory," which 
 exactly coincides with the prevailing idea of the " Para- 
 diso." 
 
 " For Thou rewardest every man according to his 
 work." This text must have been ever before the mind 
 which peopled those nine revolving spheres, and placed in 
 the waxing, waning Moon the wills imperfect through 
 instability ; in Mercury, more veiled from the solar rays 
 than any other star, the wills imperfect through the love 
 of fame ; in that last planet which can be reached by the 
 shadow of the earth (Venus), the wills imperfect through 
 excess of human love ; in the full blaze of the Sun, the 
 centre of material light, the great spiritual and intellectual 
 lights which have guided mankind along the path of 
 knowledge ; in blood-red Mars, those martyrs, confessors, 
 and warriors who have sealed their faith with their lives ; 
 in the brilliant white light of Jupiter, the rulei's and 
 judges of the earth who ever kept unsullied the ermine of 
 Justice ; and higher yet, in the calm, cold orbit of Saturn, 
 those minds which rose to heavenly contemplation through 
 the severest self-mortification when on earth. 9 
 
 Dante's powerful mind and fertile imagination, not 
 content with this one interpretation of his subject, took 
 pleasure in working out also another theory, elaborately 
 scientific. He makes the stages of good, whereby we 
 ascend to perfection in the heavenly spheres, correspond 
 with the various sciences which we use as steps in the 
 acquisition of wisdom. Thus the seven first heavens 
 answer to the "Trivio" and " Quadrivio," the seven 
 sciences taught in the schools at that time. Grammar to 
 the lunar sphere, logic to the planet Mercury, rhetoric to 
 the planet Venus, arithmetic to the Sun, music to the 
 planet Mars, geometry to the planet Jupiter, astrology to 
 the planet Saturn. In the " Trivio " were comprised the 
 
 8 Bishop Ball's Sermons. Sermon vii., p. 127. 
 
 9 See Tavolrt vi., " Ordinamento del Paradise* " nelln " Matcria 
 d'-Uii Divina Comtnedia dichiarata iu Tavole dii Michelangelo 
 Caetani."
 
 THE " PARADISO " OP DANTE. J7 
 
 three first sciences, which were looked upon as the minor 
 sciences ; in the " Quadrivio " the four last. The re- 
 maining spheres were allotted in the following manner : 
 Physics and metaphysics to the starry sphere ; moral 
 philosophy to the crystalline sphere (or "primo mobile "); 
 theology to the empyrean. The reasons for this fanciful 
 and curious arrangement are to be found in the " Convito," 
 and, briefly stated, are these. There are three analogies 
 between the planets and the sciences : 
 
 1. Both revolve round an immovable centre. Each of 
 the movable spheres revolves upon its own axis, which 
 remains fixed, and each science presupposes a subject 
 which is the centre of its learning and research. 
 
 2. The second similitude lies in the light cast by the 
 one and the other. Each sphere ilium nates visible 
 tilings, and each science throws additional light upon 
 intelligible things. 
 
 3. Both conduce to the ultimate perfection of things, 
 All philosophers agree in thinking that the heavenly 
 bodies conduce to perfection in the generation of material 
 things. In like manner it is by the aid of science that 
 we are able to penetrate so far into speculative truth, in 
 the attainment of which lies our ultimate perfection. 
 
 As we advance from one science to another in the pur- 
 suit of knowledge, the doubts and uncertainties which 
 obscure our intellects vanish like the clouds before the 
 sun. Dante employs the most delicate and transparent 
 metaphor to describe this gradual unfolding of our minds 
 to tne truth, in representing the increased beauty of the 
 expression and smile of his guide, Beatrice, as they 
 mount from sphere to sphere. The light in her eye being 
 the light which wisdom casts upon the mind, and the 
 beauty of her smile the persuasions which wisdom em- 
 ploys, by pointing to the inward contentment and satis- 
 faction arising from the acquisition of knowledge. This, 
 moreover, has a double application when we consider that 
 Beatrice is the im personification of theology ; and the 
 metaphor which represents her increasing in beauty and 
 perfection as she continues her upward flight into the 
 Divine Presence, is intended to convey the idea that the 
 nearer we approach the ineffable subject of our contem- 
 
 c
 
 18 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITKRATURE. 
 
 plation through the study of theology, the greater the 
 peace and calm satisfaction which diffuse themselves in 
 our souls. 
 
 Such is the brief outline of the general scope and plan 
 of the " Paradiso." It can, however, only faintly indi- 
 cate its real beauty, having skimmed but lightly over th 
 surface of the vast depths of thought contained in the 
 poem. 
 
 But let any one refer to the original, for the study 
 of such dissertations as those on the Liberty of the 
 Will, 1 the conviction of Divine Truth, 2 the folly of rash 
 vows, 3 or of hasty judgments, illustrated by the famous 
 comparison of the ship wrecked at the entrance of the 
 harbour, 4 the inscrutable nature of Divine Justice to 
 mortal intelligence, just as human sight may gauge the 
 depths of the waters from the shore, but in mid-ocean 
 the attempt is futile, still for all that the bed of the ocean 
 is there ; 5 the blessed spirits in the fulness of the joy of 
 the Divine Presence compared to the cliff reflected in the 
 waters ; * the final vision of the Trinity which, as a dream 
 
 1 " Lo mageior don, che Dio per sua larghezza," &c.. (Par. v. 20.) 
 
 2 " In veggio ben che giammai non si sazia 
 
 Nostro intelletto se '1 ver non lo illastra." 
 
 (C. iv. 124.) 
 
 3 " Siate Cristiani a muovervi piu gravi. 
 
 Non siate come penna ad ogni vento." 
 
 (C. v. 73.) 
 
 4 " E leeno vidi gia dritto e veloce 
 
 Correr lo mar per tutto uo cammino, 
 
 Perire infino all' eutrar della foce." 
 
 (C. xiii. 136.) 
 * " Pero nella giuslizia sempiterna 
 
 La vista die riceve il vostro mondo 
 
 Com' occhio per lo mare, entro 8* interna ; 
 
 Che, benche dalla proda veggia il foudo 
 
 In pela-jo non vede; e nondimeno 
 
 Egli e ; ma '1 cela lui 1* esser profondo." 
 
 (C. xix. 59, etej. 
 6 " E come clivo in acqna di suo imo 
 
 Si speec-liia, qimsi per vedersi adorno, 
 
 Quando e nel verde e ne' fioretti opimo ; 
 
 Si wpraRtai.do al lume intorno intoruo. 
 
 Vidi specchiarsi in piti di mille soglie, 
 
 Quanto di noi lassii t'atto ha ntornn." 
 
 (C. xxs. 109 e teq.)
 
 THE "PARAUISO" OF DANTE. 19 
 
 when one awaketh, eludes all power of description, and is 
 therefore, with consummate art, veiled as a climax too 
 sublime for human thought or speech, 7 and then judge 
 if these and other passages of equally unrivalled beauty 
 do not verify the saying of a brother bard in that same 
 " bella scuola " of Italian song, that 
 
 " II vero condito in molli versi 
 I piu schivi, allettando, ha persuaso." 8 
 
 ' " All' alta fantasia qui manco possa." 
 
 (C. xxxiii. 139.) 
 8 Tasso, " Gerusalemine Liberata," c. i. s. iii. 
 
 C 2
 
 20 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 PETRARCH : 
 
 AN ESSAY ON HIS LIFE, TIMES, AND WORKS. 
 PART I. 
 
 " Voi ch' ascoltate in rime sparse il suono 
 Di quei sospiri ond' io rmdriva il core 
 In sul mio primo giovenile errore 
 Quand' era in parte altr' uom da quel ch' i' sono ; 
 l)el vario stile in ch' io piango e ragiono 
 Fra le vane speranze e '1 van dolore, 
 Ove sia chi per prova intenda amore, 
 Spero trovar pieta, non che pcrdono. 
 Ma ben veggi' or t-i come al popol tutto 
 Favola fui gran tempo : oude sovente 
 Di me medt-sino meco mi vergogno : 
 E del mio vaneggiar vergogna e '1 frutto 
 E '1 pentirsi e '1 conoscer chiaramente 
 Che quanto piace al moudo e breve sogno." 1 
 
 Le Rime di Francesco Petrarca, Sonn. i. Part I. 
 
 PERHAPS the attempt to compress so interesting a subject 
 as the life and writings of Petrarch into a brief notice of 
 a few pages may at first sight seem presumptuous ; more 
 especially when we consider that for the last five cen- 
 turies there has been no lack of biographies of so remark- 
 able a man. It would add another page to this essay 
 merely to mention their names, and it would take many 
 to enter into any details respecting them. Still, as the 
 writer is more or less indebted for information to their 
 labours, it is only right to mention, as briefly as possible, 
 some of the most celebrated biographies of Petrarch. The 
 Abbe de Sade divides them into five classes : those who 
 were his contemporaries and began to write before or 
 immediately after his death. The first of these, and the 
 Burliest known, is Domenico Aietino. He was invited to 
 Padua, by Francesco da Carrara, at the time when 
 
 1 This sonnet and many other portions of the Canzoniere have 
 been admirably translated by Bnrharina, Lady Dacre. The col- 
 lection was privately printed in 1836.
 
 PETRARCH. 21 
 
 Petrarch, having attained his seventieth year, was living 
 there. Domenico, notwithstanding the direct encourage- 
 ment which he received from the poet himself, has only 
 left us a short sketch of his life. Coluccio Salutati and 
 Pietro Paolo Vergerio also wrote their biographies at this 
 time, but their enthusiasm for the great genius who had 
 just ceased to exist led them to fill up their pages with 
 vague and indiscriminate praise, neglecting to investigate 
 closely his life and history. They contented themselves 
 with merely copying Petrarch's own " Epistle to Posterity," 
 which source of information has been the natural refuge 
 of all his biographers in every century. It is a curious 
 autobiographical sketch, related with ingenious candour, 
 dwelling more upon the motives which influenced his 
 actions than upon the actions themselves, and describing 
 with unaffected simplicity his abilities, his feelings, and 
 even his personal appearance. 
 
 The fame of Petrarch was at its height at the time of 
 his death. It declined in the fifteenth century. The 
 accomplished Latin and Greek scholars which this age 
 produced set themselves the task of commenting upon the 
 works of Petrarch. They despised his Latin style, and 
 thus the depreciation of his works in that language may 
 have helped to involve the famous Canzoniere in a similar 
 fate. " The fourteenth century," observes Crescimbeni, 
 " we have rightly called an evil century, on account of the 
 cruel maiming of the Italian language by the critics of 
 that time." The third order of biographers was headed 
 by Lorenzo de' Medici, and to it Vellutello, Gesualdo, and 
 Beccadelli also belonged. The coldness and indifference 
 of the preceding century were now exchanged for the 
 greatest enthusiasm. Editions of Petrarch were multiplied, 
 academies formed for the purpose of explaining his works, 
 and the critics of this age would acknowledge no defect 
 in him nor any excellence to exist in a style different 
 from his. But at the beginning of the seventeenth 
 century the fame of the poet was again destined to receive 
 a rude shock. It was at the hands of a certain Giovanni 
 Battista Marina, who, while his own writings were filled 
 with fantastical allegories and extravagant metaphors, cast 
 ridicule upon the simple natural beauties of the poetry of
 
 22 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITKKATURE. 
 
 Petrarch. Unfortunately he had only too many followers. 
 Petrarch was despised and neglected, his works ceased to 
 be printed, and were scarcely read, while his biographers 
 dwindled down to a very small number, although Filippo 
 Tomasini published his "Petrarcha Redivivus," and 
 Tassoni critical remarks and observations upon his poems. 
 The historians of the eighteenth century the age when 
 history, and especially the history of literature, was well 
 written may be placed in the 6fth and last class. 
 Among these are Muratori and, to mention no other names, 
 the Abbe de Sade. His book, bearing the modest title of 
 " Memoires pour )a Vie de Petrarque," has ever since its 
 publication in 1764 been the inexhaustible reservoir 
 whence the greater part of the information of subsequent 
 biographers has been drawn. The value of this work is 
 especially enhanced by one circumstance, viz. that of the 
 author having finally decided the question concerning the 
 family and history of Laura, as to which he has succeeded 
 in bringing forward such satisfactory proofs that there 
 scarcely remains room for any further doubt upon the 
 subject. This is admitted by Tiraboschi, 2 while, to justify 
 his countrymen for not having made the discovery before, 
 he ascribes the success of the Abbe to the free access 
 which, as a descendant, he had to all the archives of the 
 House of Sade ; that is to say, of Laura's husband. 
 Many writers also, not only of his own nation, such as 
 Tiraboschi, Maffei, Bardelli, Alfieri, and Professor Marsand 
 of Padua who collected a " Biblioteca Petrarchesca," 
 consisting of 900 volumes illustrative of his history, 3 but 
 of other nations besides have since written upon Petrarch, 
 and the subject has been fully treated by Ginguene in his 
 " Histoire Litteraire de 1'italie." 
 
 The very fact of so much information having been 
 gathered together concerning him is almost enough to 
 discourage from the study of Petrarch those who have not 
 much leisure time at their disposal The design, there- 
 
 2 Preface to vol. v. of " Storia della Litteratnra Italinna." 
 
 3 This collection has since been eclipsed by that of Professor 
 Willard Fiske at Florence, which numbers some 3000 volumes, 
 contains the rarest editions of Petrarch, and a copy of every work 
 which may bear directly or indirectly upon his Life and Times.
 
 PETKARCH. 23 
 
 fore, of this essay is not to add to the number of 
 biographies which already exist, but to endeavour to call 
 attention to the more remarkable events of his life, to the 
 critical nature of* the times in which he lived, and to the 
 twofold influence, political and literary, which he exercised 
 over his country. 
 
 Before we consider the peculiar aspect presented by the 
 romantic side of Petrarch's existence, it is well to cast a 
 brief glance over the times and circumstances of his 
 country at the time of his birth. 
 
 The Italian Republics, which had for a long period of 
 years been a prey to the violence of faction and the horrors 
 of anarchy, now sought to unite the discordant wills of 
 their citizens and to defend themselves from the attacks 
 of their enemies. Some thought the welfare of the State 
 was best provided for by giving full power to some one 
 powerful individual, who, uniting his own forces with the 
 collected strength of the " Comune," would have sufficient 
 power at once to repress factions within and repel 
 hostilities from without. These chiefs were always chosen, 
 either by force of arms or by the vote of the citizens, out 
 of the most illustrious families, and by degrees they 
 obtained complete possession of the cities which had 
 elected them. Thus, at the beginning of the fourteenth 
 century the Visconti ruled over turbulent Milan, the 
 Scaligeri governed Verona, the Carraresi Padua, the 
 Estensi Ferrara, the Gonzaga Mantua, &c , &c. The 
 Medici had not yet begun to rule over Florence, which 
 was, in common with many other of the Italian cities, 
 torn in pieces by the feuds of the Bianchi and Neri. 
 
 Meanwhile the Pontiffs, unmoved, beheld from afar the 
 discords and tumults by Avhich Italy was agitated. 
 Bertrand the Goth, Archbishop of Bourdeaux, had, 
 chiefly through the influence of Philip IV. of France, 
 been elected Pope under the name of Clement V. ; and 
 the new Pontiff, out of gratitude to the French king, 
 transferred the Papal See and Court to Avignon, to the 
 detriment both of Rome and Italy. " Thus," says 
 Muratori, 4 " did the Apostolical See pass into France, and 
 remain there seventy years in captivity, like the captivity 
 4 Ann. d' Italia, ami. 1305.
 
 24 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of Babylon, because of its slavish subservience to the 
 whims of the kings of France." 
 
 At the beginning, then, of a century which augured 
 most unfavourably for the future of his country, Petrarch 
 AVSIS born " at Arezzo, July 20, 1304, on Monday, at the 
 d;i\vii of day, of bonest parents, Florentines by birth, 
 although exiled from their native city, of moderate for- 
 tunes, inclined, to speak the truth, to poverty." So 
 Petrarch himself describes the fact in his " Epistle to 
 Posterity." His father, called Petraccolo on account of 
 the smallness of his stature, and his mother, " Eletta 
 Canigiani," had been banished from Florence in 1302. 
 It was the year also of Dante's exile, and together with 
 him they had retired to Arezzo, whence on July 20, 1304, 
 Petraccolo and Dante, with the other exiled Bianchi, 
 made a night attack upon Florence, hoping to re-enter 
 their native city by force. Thus the circumstances of 
 Petrarch's birth are in accordance with the condition of 
 his country and times, while they offer a curious contrast 
 to the functions of a peacemaker universally assigned to 
 him during the later years of his life. His early years 
 were passed first at Incisa, in the Val d'Arno. Thence 
 his parents moved to Pisa, where his father anxiously 
 awaited the arrival of Henry VII., Emperor of Germany 
 (the "Arrigo" for whom Dante prepares such an exalted 
 throne in his " Paradiso " 5 ), to restore the Ghibelline 
 party at Florence. But the hopes of his party being 
 crushed by the death of this prince, he fled to the Papal 
 Court at Avignon, which soon became the refuge for 
 exiled Italians. 
 
 During his father's lifetime Petrarch was compelled, 
 sorely against the grain, to study the law, which in those 
 times was considered the only road to honours and pre- 
 ferment. These studies were pursued at Carpentras, at 
 Montpellier University, and finally at Bologna, then the 
 great school of canon law. His progress, however, in 
 this branch of learning was materially hindered by his 
 early enthusiasm for the classics. His father was at first 
 proud of his son's proficiency in this line, and encouraged 
 his classical taste ; but when he discovered how much it 
 4 Par. xxx. 135.
 
 PETRARCH. 25 
 
 interfered with his more important legal studies, he threw 
 into the fire all the copies of the classics which Petrarch 
 possessed, till at length, moved by the tears and entreaties 
 of his son, he withdrew from the flames one copy of 
 Cicero and one of Virgil, which he allowed him to keep. 
 
 In 1326, the sudden death of his father summoned 
 Petrarch from Bologna to Avignon, and at the age of 
 twenty-two he found himself at liberty to abandon those 
 legal studies which had always been so distasteful to him. 
 He is, notwithstanding, anxious to explain that the anti- 
 quity of the laws, their authority and force, had not been 
 without attraction for him; "yet," he adds, "their appli- 
 cation had been so much marred and depraved by the 
 worldliness of mankind, that it distressed him to learn 
 them, because he would have scorned to make a dishonest 
 use of them, and an honest use it would have been very 
 difficult to make, as his integrity would have been attri- 
 buted to ignorance." 6 The death of Petrarch's father 
 was succeeded in a few months by that of his mother. 
 She died at the early age of thirty-eight, and the fact is 
 curiously preserved from oblivion by the number of 
 verses which Petrarch wrote in honour of her memory, 
 corresponding exactly with the number of her years. 
 And now Petrarch was to begin his life in Avignon. 
 
 " Beside the banks of that river perpetually swept by 
 the winds of heaven I spent my childhood, under the 
 yoke of parental authority, and all my youth subject to 
 another yoke, that of my own passions," 7 he tells us him- 
 self, and the description of the river is borne out by the 
 old proverb : "Avenio ventosa, sine vento venenosa, cum 
 vento fastidiosa." The lofty walls of this curious city, 
 which, built by Clement VI., the fourth Avignonese 
 Pope, frown over the left bank of the Ehone ; the early 
 Romanesque architecture of its small but very peculiar 
 church ; and the tombs of its various Popes, still attract 
 the traveller who loves to have the past recalled to him, 
 and to linger over the outward expression of its history. 
 It is a strange fact that Petrarch was never able to tear 
 himself for any length of time from a place which is 
 nevertheless the object of his detestation. 
 
 6 Epist. ad Post. ' Ibid.
 
 26 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " As for me, the abhorrence that I feel for this city is so great 
 that nothing IMII increase it." (Lib xx. Lett. 14.) 
 
 "0 my friends, who dwell in the most wicked of all cities." (Ib. 
 Lett. 9.) 
 
 'The Rhone swallows up all the honours which should belong to 
 the Tilier ; and alas! what monsters are ta be seen upon her banks !" 
 (Lilt. i. Lett. 36.) 
 
 " I came on purpose to this most hateful of cities." (Ib. 
 Lett. 13 ) 
 
 " How sorely against the grain am I compelled to remain beside 
 the banks of the impetuous Rhone, and to sojourn in this most 
 ungrateful city." (Lib. xiv. Lett. 7.) 
 
 " It (Valcbiusa) is too near to this Western Babylon, the worst of 
 all the habitations of men, and but little better than the infernal 
 regions from whence, with fear and loathing, I naturally seek to 
 escape." (Lib. xi. Lett. 6.) 
 
 Besides these passages from his letters, there are three 
 famous sonnets* against the Court of Rome established at 
 Avignon, and the first of these is directed against the 
 city itself: 
 
 " May fire from heaven fall upon thy head, 
 O wicked Court ! Thy former frugal fare 
 Is now exchanged for luxury and pride, 
 The spoils of others whom thou hast oppressed 
 With evil deeds which are thy sole delight. 
 O nest of treachery ! in which is nun-ed 
 Whatever wickedness o'eropreads the world," &c. Ac. 
 
 Various attempts have been made to explain the abhor- 
 rence thus so strongly expressed. One is that Avignon 
 was connected, in Petrarch's mind, with the death of 
 Laura. It is observed that the maledictions against the 
 city date only from 1348, the year in which Laura died 
 of the plague at Avignon. But this would seem to be 
 hardly sufficient ground for so specific and continued a 
 condemnation ; and probably a strong sense of the vices 
 which conupted the Papal Court then established at 
 Avignon, to say the least, contributed largely to inspire 
 the loathing which his language has so fiercely expressed. 
 
 Petrarch and his brother Gherardo, the only two 
 children of Petraccolo and his wife, found themselves at 
 
 * Sonnets xiv., xv., xvi., Part IV. As there are scarcely two 
 editions of Petrarch which are numbered alike, it is necessary to 
 state that the references to the Canzonu-re quoted in this paper are 
 taken from the edition published by Bar be re at Florence, 1U63.
 
 PETRARCH. 27 
 
 the death of their parents in very narrow circumstances. 
 The executors of the will had betrayed their trust and 
 seized most of the property, and when the two brothers 
 had collected what little remained to them of their in- 
 heritance, they found it absolutely necessary to embrace 
 some profession as a means of livelihood. Imagining 
 that at Avignon, the sea4 of Papal power and patronage, 
 a means of subsistence would be most easily obtained, he 
 and his brother submitted to the tonsure. They, did not 
 take holy orders, and in those days of laxity nothing 
 further than the tonsure was required in order to obtain 
 the highest ecclesiastical preferment. But Petrarch had 
 no desire for riches. " Such is the nature of riches," he 
 says, " that as they increase the thirst for them increases 
 also, and consequently the more room is there for 
 poverty." 9 
 
 John XXII. had succeeded Clement V. in the Papal 
 chair. The corruption of his court was imitated by the 
 town ; but in the midst of the general depravity which 
 surrounded him, Petrarch remained uncontaminated. He 
 was strikingly handsome when, at the age of twenty-two, 
 he began life at Avignon : according to some biographers, 
 he was vain of his personal appearance, but this tailing 
 lasted only a little while, and he was never tempted by 
 frivolities to neglect his mental improvement. 
 
 Being now free to choose his own employment, he 
 returned to his favourite study of the classics, which he 
 pursued in peaceful content, his only anxiety caused by 
 the extent of the vast field of knowledge which lay open 
 before him, and which seemed to stretch to an immeasur- 
 able distance the further he advanced into it. He was 
 universally courted by the rich and sought after by the 
 learned, and it was at this time that he renewed the 
 intimacy which he had formed at Bologna with Giacomo 
 Colonna, one of that noble and ancient family whose well- 
 known rivalries with the family of the Orsini make an 
 essential part of the history of modern Home. The first 
 of the Colonna family in fame and spirit was Stel'ano, the 
 father of Giacomo, whom Petrarch esteemed as a hero 
 
 9 Kpist. ad Post.
 
 28 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LIFEBATUBE. 
 
 worthy of ancient Rome. In his distress, when his estates 
 were confiscated and himself and his family banished, he 
 was not an object of pity but of reverence. It is said that 
 on being asked, " Where is now your fortress 1 " he laid 
 his hand on his heart and said, " Here." Doubtless this 
 answer was present to Petrarch's mind when he addressed 
 to him the sonnet " Gloriosa Colonna, in cui s' appoggia 
 nostra speranza," J and others. 
 
 This year (1327) may be looked upon as the close of the 
 first period of Petrarch's life. A new era was about to 
 open upon him. The independence and pleasures of youth 
 were now before him, with apparent liberty to choose 
 whatever career he preferred ; but in the next year the 
 whole aspect of his existence was changed by an accident 
 which impressed a peculiar stamp upon his life, and with- 
 out which, perhaps, he would never have obtained the 
 fame of a great poet, whatever other celebrity he might 
 have achieved as an orator, a philosopher, or a patriot. 
 
 Inside the cover of Petrarch's own copy of Virgil, which 
 is now to be seen in the Ambrosian Library at Milan, we 
 read the inscription to which so much importance has 
 been attached by all his historians. The original is in 
 Latin. 
 
 " Laura, illustrious for her own virtues, and long 
 celebrated by my verses, first appeared to my eyes at the 
 time of my early youth, in the year of our Lord 1327, in 
 the morning of the 6th day of April, in the church of 
 Santa Chiara at Avignon. And in the same city, the 
 same month, the same sixth day of April, the same first 
 hour of dawn, but in the year 1348, from this light of day 
 that light was taken away, when I, alas ! was in Verona, 
 ignorant of my fate. But the unhappy rumour reached 
 me at Parma the same year, in the month of May, on the 
 morning of the tenth. Her most chaste and fair body 
 was laid in the burying-place of the church of the 
 Cordeliers at vespers on the day of her death ; but her 
 soul, I am persuaded, as Seneca said of Scipio Africanus, 
 returned to heaven whence it came." 
 
 Some may think this simple and touching inscription 
 
 1 Sounets ii. xi. Part IV.
 
 PETRAECH. 29 
 
 a more remarkable tribute to Laura than all the sonnets 
 which have immortalized her name. At all events it 
 strikes the very key-note of Petrarch's future life. It 
 reveals the source of that stream of beautiful ideas which, 
 though still the same, flows on in ever-varying metaphors. 
 All readers of Italian poetry have some acquaintance with 
 his Sonnets and Elegies, with what his countrymen have 
 called the "Canzoniere," and the names of Petrarch and 
 Laura have become inseparable in life and death. No 
 one can visit that Valchiusa which he immortalized with- 
 out recalling the long period of years which Petrarch 
 suffered to be filled by one absorbing thought, one hope- 
 less passion. The question always arises as to whether 
 his life was wasted ; but, on the contrary, to us it seems 
 as if the very fact of this all-absorbing interest made the 
 life of Petrarch an exception to the general rule appli- 
 cable to the lives of learned men. As the romantic and 
 poetical sides of Petrarch's character are so interwined 
 that it is difficult, almost impossible, to examine them 
 separately, let us begin by considering the lady who 
 inspired so fervent an attachment that it has become a 
 matter of history. 
 
 Who was Laura ? 
 
 There appear to have been three theories respecting 
 her. 
 
 1. That she was not a person at all, but an allegorical 
 representation of Fame, her name Laura signifying "the 
 laurel wreath.' But this is at once demolished by 
 Petrarch's own letter to Giacomo Colonna. 2 
 
 This theory is to be traced to the pedants of the 
 sixteenth century, who with heavy prolixity poured forth 
 their admiration by commentaries upon every word of 
 every sonnet. They sought to extract a hidden meaning 
 from the simplest language, to spiritualize his meaning, as 
 they supposed ; and the paradox of denying the reality of 
 Laura's existence was one result of these refinements. 
 
 2. That she was the daughter of Henri Chiabau 
 d'Ancezume, Seigneur de Cabrieres, a little village about 
 three miles from Vaucluse (Valchiusa). It was the 
 
 2 Lett. Fam. ii. 9.
 
 30 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURK. 
 
 custom of the inhabitants of Cabrieres to make a pilgrimage 
 every Good Friday to visit the relics of St. Veran, which 
 are kept in the church of St. Veran at Vaucluse. Laura, 
 according to this custom, went there also, for the same 
 purpose. Petrarch saw her in the church, was struck by 
 her beauty, and from that day never ceased to love her. 
 This theory, first started by Vellutello, has no foundation 
 except some misunderstood verses of Petrarch, and it is 
 contradicted by other much clearer passages. It was, 
 however, believed for some time in Italy ; and although 
 it has been entirely overthrown, there are some people 
 who still give it credit : witness the pamphlet published 
 in 1869 by Louis de Bondelon, called " Vaucluse et ses 
 Souvenirs," which is thrust into the hands of travellers 
 who visit Avignon and Vaucluse. It contains merely 
 Vellutello's theory slightly amplified, with the addition of 
 a good deal of French vehemence. But the best refutation 
 is to point out the grounds for belief on which the third 
 theory is founded. 
 
 3. That she was Laure de Noves, tho daughter of 
 Audibert and Ermessende de Noves. The House of 
 Noves, which is of great antiquity, takes its name from 
 the village of Noves, situate about a mile from Avignon. 
 At the age of eighteen she married Hugues de Sade, on 
 January 16th, 1325. Two years afterwards, on April 6th, 
 1327, at the first hour, that is to say towards six in the 
 morning (for it was then the custom to count the hours 
 from the dawn), Petrarch saw her in the church of Santa 
 Chiara at Avignon, whither he had gone to pay his 
 morning's devotions. She was dressed in green, and her 
 gown was besprinkled with violets : 
 
 " Xegli occhi lio pur le violette, e '1 vertle, 
 Di eh' era nel principle di mia enerra 
 
 Amor urinau) si, eh' aneor mi sforza " 3 
 
 Her countenance and her aspect surpassed all human 
 beauty : 
 
 " Permndo nel bel viso piii che umano." 
 
 Canz. xii. Part I. 
 
 Her manner and carriage had a proud grace : 
 s Cam. xii. Purt I. See also Canz. ii.
 
 PETRARCH. 31 
 
 "II leggiadro portamento altero." (Sonn. i. Part II.) 
 Her eyes were tender and brilliant : 
 " Gli occhi sereni, e le stellanti ciglia." (Sonn. cxlviii. Part I.) 
 Her eyebrows were as black as ebony : 
 
 ' Ebeno i cigli." (Sonn. cvi. ib.) 
 
 Her golden hair floated on her shoulders : 
 
 " E il primo di ch' i' vidi a 1' aura sparsi 
 I capei d' oro onde si subit' arsi." 
 
 Her hands were whiter than snow or ivory : 
 " Man ch' avorio, e neve avanza." (Sonn. cxxix. ib.) 
 
 The sound of her voice was soft and sweet : 
 " Chiara, soave, angelica, divina." (Sonn. cxv. ib.) 
 
 And she was full of grace : 
 
 *' Atto gentile," &c (^onn clxxv.) 
 
 Such is only the outline of the portrait of Laura as de- 
 lineated by Petrarch ; many finishing touches of exquisite 
 grace and delicacy are still to be found in his poetry. 
 That this was the lady who appeared in the church at Avig- 
 non, and that that lady was Petrarch's Laura, would seem 
 to be unquestionably proved by the manuscript inscrip- 
 tion in the Virgil, whose authenticity has been further 
 established by a discovery made in 1795 by the Milanese 
 librarian, of a continuation of the inscription on the 
 cover of the book itself. This continuation contains 
 records, added from time to time in the same handwriting, 
 of the deaths of Petrarch's friends as they occurred. 
 When this note was first discovered in the Virgil, Vellu- 
 tello, perceiving how entirely it overthrew his theory, 
 took refuge in saying that it was a forgery ; but the 
 later discovery of 1795 puts a stop to any imputation 
 of this kind, and the fact is now established by the 
 unanimous consent of the Italian caUigrafi, by the 
 authority of De Sade, of Tiraboschi, and above all of 
 Bandelli, whose work, "Del Petrarca e delle sue opere," 
 was published at Florence in 1837. One other curious 
 circumstance helps to maintain the truth of this theory 
 respecting Laura. In 1533, according to the Abbe de
 
 32 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Sade, 4 Girolamo Manelli, of Florence, Maurice de Seve, 
 and Mgr Bontemps, Archbishop of Avignon, undertook 
 to make investigations concerning Laura's family. In 
 their search among all the ancient sepulchres at Avignon, 
 they finally came to the church of the Cordeliers, where 
 Petrarch says in his note Laura is buried. They found 
 in the chapel of the House of Sade, which is in that 
 church, among the tombs, a great stone, bearing no in- 
 scription, but two escutcheons obliterated by time, and 
 a rose above the escutcheons. The stone being raised by 
 order of the Archbishop, they discovered a coffin, inside 
 which were a few small bones and a leaden box fastened 
 down with a band of iron. The box contained a parch- 
 ment folded and sealed with green wax, and a bronze 
 medal, bearing on one side the figure of a woman with 
 the initial letters, " M. L. M. J,," and nothing on the 
 reverse. Maurice de Seve suggested the meaning of the 
 initials to be " Madonna Laura mortajace " (the old form 
 of Italian spelling having been used). A sonnet was 
 written on the parchment, which was deciphered with 
 some difficulty. It is supposed to have been written 
 by Petrarch, and begins thus : 
 
 "Qui riposan quei caste c felice ossa." 5 
 
 The news of this discovery having reached the ears of 
 Francis L, King of France, he stopped at Avignon on 
 his way to Marseilles, caused the tombstone to be again 
 raised, and re-opened the box to read Petrarch's verses. 
 He then, himself, wrote Laura's epitaph, which was placed 
 inside the box with the sonnet. If her fame had not 
 already been firmly established, it would have been 
 secured by these graceful lines of the chivalrous king : 
 
 " En petit lieu compris vous pouvez voir 
 Ce qui comprend beaucoup par renornmee, 
 Plume, labeur, la langue et le savoir 
 Furent vaincus par I'aymant de Payinee. 
 
 " O gentil Ame estant tant estimee, 
 Qui te pourra loner qn'en se taisant ? 
 
 4 Vol. i. Note iv. p. 13. 
 
 6 Vol. ii. Note xi. " Pieces Justificatives," p. 41.
 
 PETRARCH. 33 
 
 Car la parole est toujours reprimee, 
 Quand le sujet surmonte le disaut." * 
 
 It is right to say that some Italian writers refuse to 
 acknowledge that the sonnet was written by Petrarch, on 
 account of its inferiority to his other poetry ; while others 
 give full credit to the whole story. The arguments on 
 both sides are too long to be cited here, but those who 
 wish to find out minute particulars of the event, with 
 contemporary evidence to support them, have only to 
 look in the places already referred to in the Abbe de 
 Sade's Memoirs. Assuming, then, that Laura's identity 
 with Madame Laura de Sade is proved, it only remains to 
 say a few words upon the character of Petrarch's passion 
 for her. 
 
 At the epoch known to artists as the " Renaissance," 
 after centuries of barbarism, despite the corruption and 
 ferocity which still vitiated the manners of the age, there 
 remained an exaggerated sentiment as to the passion of 
 love. The empire acquired by women in the North, by 
 contrast to the slavery of those of the East and South, 
 had become exalted by chivalry into a kind of religion. 
 The Troubadours were one consequence of chivalry, and 
 the poet was as anxious to consecrate his verses to his 
 mistress as the knight to lay at her feet the enterprises 
 of his valour. Hence tne " Corti d' Amore ; " and to 
 these courts, which were held in Provence in the time of 
 Petrarch, we owe the invention of his particular species of 
 mystic lyrical poetry. 
 
 The manners and customs of the age gave a further 
 stimulus to his already ardent passion, and to write of 
 Laura became, with him, a kind of romance. He differs, 
 however, from the early Troubadours of Italy, the cha- 
 racter of whose poetry was often vague and undecided, 
 in the precision of his language : every verse with him 
 is a portrait, of Laura herself, of the places where she 
 moved, of the little incidents of their intercourse. His 
 romance is made up of the simplest events of her life : a 
 smile, a look, an encounter, a passing cloud, a lost glove 
 even, makes an object for his poetry, and enables him to 
 
 ' Sade, " Memoire-," vol. ii. note xii. p. 42. 
 
 D
 
 34 STUDIES m ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 present us with a series of exquisitely finished pictures. 
 The air, the summer breeze, the water, the trees, the 
 flowers, and the green sward, are, if the expression may 
 be allowed, inspired with life, and personified by Pe- 
 trarch in order that the most beautiful productions of 
 nature may do honour to the object of his poetry and of 
 his love. 
 
 Those who wish to be convinced of the high and noble 
 character of his affection for Laura ought to consult 
 Petrarch himself. 
 
 He says, in his " Dialoghi con S. Agostino :" " Se 
 fosse dato di mirare il mio affetto come si mira il viso di 
 Laura, si vedrebbe che quello e puro, e immaculate al 
 par di questo. Diro di piu ; debbo a Laura tutto cio che 
 sono ; salito non sarei in qualche fama, se ella non avesse 
 fatto germogliare con nobilissimi affetti quei semi di 
 virtu cho la natura avea sparsi nel mio cuore, ella ri- 
 trasse il giovanile mio amore da ogni turpitudine e mi 
 diede ali da volar sopra il cielo e di contemplare 1' alta 
 Cagione prima ; giacche e un effetto dell' amore il tras- 
 formare gli amanti e renderli simili all' oggetto amato." 
 
 The love of Petrarch was the glory, if it was also the 
 torment of his existence ; and although it may be scarcely 
 credible that such an utterly hopeless love should have 
 absorbed him nearly fifty years, the nature and constancy 
 of it are painted with a charm, a loftiness of tone, and in 
 such brilliant colours, that raise far above all vulgar and 
 ordinary conceptions this the concentrated passion of his 
 life. His Italian poetry was the result of these highly 
 wrought feelings ; and we must not forget that, in the 
 estimation of Petrarch, it held a secondary place, and 
 that ho was even surprised at the success which it 
 obtained during his lifetime. He trusted his reputation 
 to his Latin works, and expected to win from those almost 
 forgotten imitations of a dead language the immortality 
 justly due to his poems in his native tongue. Posterity 
 has passed a wiser judgment, and all who can thoroughly 
 understand the Italian language will be of opinion that 
 the "Rime del Petrarca" entitle their author to be con- 
 sidered as the prince of lyrical poetry. 
 
 In order to read the " Canzoniere " with proper atten-
 
 PETRARCH. 35 
 
 tion and interest, the mind of the reader should accompany 
 step by step the mind of the poet, with reference to the 
 time, place, and circumstance which give occasion for his 
 poetry. It is a complete history of his life where it 
 touches by the very smallest incident the life of Laura. 
 According to most of the Italian commentators, the 
 "Canzoniere " may be divided into four parts. 
 
 In the first part are placed the " Rime in Vita di Ma- 
 donna Laura." 
 
 In the second, those " In Morte di Madonna Laura." 
 
 In the third, " I Trionfi." 
 
 In the fourth, the sonnets and compositions upon various 
 subjects. The Sonnets in the first part contain some of 
 the most famous " capi d' opera," but the Canzoni are 
 considered the jewels of the collection ; and the severest 
 of Petrarch's critics (Tassoni) is forced to own that 
 " there is not one of Petrarch's verses which would not 
 establish his reputation as a poet, but the ' Canzoni ' are, 
 in my judgment, his best claim to honour and renown." 
 There are twenty-one in the first part : of these, Nos. viii., 
 ix., x., xiv., and xv. are supposed to be the most cele- 
 brated. The first three of these are called by the Italians 
 the " Three Graces," and they affirm that there is no piece 
 of Italian poetry so pure, so polished, and so well sus- 
 tained. They make altogether one poem, in three strophes 
 of fifteen verses. The grace and delicacy of Canzone xi., 
 " Chiare, fresche, e dolci acque," is so well known that it 
 is only necessary to mention it by name. Voltaire trans- 
 lated it into French, because he said " ces monuments de 
 1'esprit humain delassent de la longue attention aux 
 malheurs qui ont trouble la terre." Canzone xii., apart 
 from its own merits, contains the description of the green 
 and violet dress in which Petrarch saw Laura for the first 
 time. The Sonnets in the first part are 207 in number, 
 far too numerous to attempt to describe in so small a 
 space. The two which relate to Laura's picture 6 are 
 addressed to the Siennese artist Simone Memmi, with 
 whose painting Petrarch was so enraptured that he ex- 
 claims, 
 
 6 Sonn. xlix. 1., Part I. 
 D 2
 
 36 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 "SoreMemmi mine in Paradise hatli been, 
 Whence came but late the lady of all urace, 
 Whom on his canvas he hath nought to trace 
 That we on earth might know fair Beauty's queen." " 
 
 The Ballati, Madrigali, and Sestini, the other varying 
 forms in which Petrarch clothes his poetical ideas, are 
 interspersed throughout the first part, but they are seldom 
 employed in the second, as not grave enough for so melan- 
 choly a subject. 
 
 If, as it is often said, all true poetry is tinged with 
 melancholy, the reason for the second part of the " Canzo- 
 jiiere " being preferred to the tirst is easily explained. We 
 can more readily sympathize with Petrarch now Laura is 
 dead. The exalted and romantic nature of his previous 
 sorrow was hard to understand, difficult to compassionate ; 
 but there are few who do not know what it is to mourn 
 a dead friend. Our tenderest sympathies and best feel- 
 ings are enlisted as we follow Petrarch through his years 
 of mourning. 
 
 " To my belief," 
 
 (he makes Laura say to him, when she appears to him in 
 a vision,) 
 
 " Long time on earth without me thou must live." s 
 And twenty-six years of constant love after her death did 
 Petrarch add to the twenty-one years which he had 
 already devoted to her during her lifetime. The Canzoni 
 of this part, eight in number, are all very beautiful, and 
 would fully repay a careful study of them, especially the 
 first, " Che debb' io far 1 " Who has not felt the force of 
 the original lines 
 
 /' Ab me ! that lovely face, prey to the worm ! 
 Which m ide earth heaven, 
 Pledge of immortal hue. 
 Unseen in Paradise now is her form } 
 The veil is riven 
 
 Which o'er her youthful prime its shadow threw, 
 Yet to be worn anew, 
 
 7 Sonn. xlix., Part I. "Ma certo il mio Simon fu in Paradiso." 
 Prints of this picture are still to be procured in the Liberia 
 Lnurenzinna at Florence. 
 
 8 ''Trionfo della Morte," cur. ii. " Al creder mio, tu stara' in 
 terra stuza me gnm tempo."
 
 PETEARCH, 37 
 
 Radiant and glorified, 
 
 And never laid aside, 
 
 Hut everlasting, aud mortals descrv 
 
 That with Eternity Time cannot vie." ' 
 
 And the same deep pathos is to be found in those two 
 Sonnets 'in which he bids farewell to Laura's earthly 
 beauty. The idea also runs through the third Canzone of 
 this part, disguised under various allegorical forms ; and, 
 apart from its own merits, this Canzone is still further 
 interesting from having been translated by Spenser, in 
 1591, under the title of "The Visions of Petrarch.'' 
 
 The political Canzoni and Sonnets have purposely been 
 passed by in order to speak of them in another place ; it 
 only remains, therefore, to mention the Trionfi. These 
 were visions, a kind of poetry in vogue at that time ; 
 indeed, the whole of the " Divina Commedia " was framed 
 upon this scheme. The Trionti of Petrarch are six in 
 number : 
 
 1. II Trionfo d' Amore. 
 
 2. del la Castita. 
 
 3. della Morte. 
 
 4. della Kama. 
 
 5. del Tempo. 
 
 6. della Diviuita. 2 
 
 In them the poet describes the various phases of exist- 
 ence through which a man must pass. In his first 
 state of youth he is beset by the desires of the senses, 
 which may all be comprised in the one term of self-love. 
 But as his reason becomes gradually matured he per- 
 ceives the unfitness of such a condition of life ; he 
 struggles against his desires, and overcomes them by the 
 help of self-denial. In the midst of all these struggles, 
 death comes upon him, and makes the victor and the 
 vanquished equal, removing both from this world. Yet 
 the power of death is not sufficient to destroy the memory 
 of him who, by his noble and valorous deeds, has pur- 
 
 9 Canz. 5., Part II. "Oime, terra & fatto 51 suo bel viso." 
 
 1 Sonn. i. and xxiv., Part II. 
 
 ' The "Trionfi del Petrarca" were painted hy Andrea Vnnni in 
 the fourteenth century, and are still to be seen in the *' Accadi-mia 
 delle bflle Arti " at Siena. No. 152 e seg.
 
 33 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 chased for himself an undying name. He lives once more 
 by that fame 
 
 " Which from the grave recalls the dead, bidding them live again." 3 
 Only Time, 
 
 " Who with destroying venom blasts great names," 4 
 
 gradually obliterates all remembrance of man's Avorks, 
 however great or good, thereby teaching him not to hope 
 for any other undying existence than that blessed eternity 
 which is in the presence of God, and whose pleasures are 
 at His right hand for evermore. Thus man at first falls a 
 victim to self-love, but self-denial will conquer self-love. 
 Death will triumph over both, Fame will rescue his 
 memory from death, but in its turn must succumb to 
 Time, while Time is finally lost in Eternity. Of all the 
 Trionfi, the third, " Delia Morte," is by far the most 
 poetical and the most full of interest. In it the story of 
 Petrarch's love is retraced and explained ; and at last, 
 after the tempests by which his mind was agitated, and 
 the years of patient waiting, he seems to have found a 
 haven of peace and rest. Who would grudge him the 
 consolation which he finally weaves for himself out of his 
 own vivid imagination ? It is so full of power, so con- 
 vincing in its touching simplicity, that Ave feel to draAV a 
 long breath of relief as we read it, while we rejoice in 
 thinking that comfort did come to him in the end. It 
 has always been a favourite resource of the Italian poets 
 to call back the lost mistress from the grave. Thus, in 
 the "Divina Commedia," Beatrice is constantly placed 
 before our eyes, acting and speaking as if in life. Wit- 
 ness Tasso, when he summons back Clorinda after death 
 to console her faithful Tancredi ; Avitness the very instance 
 we have before us in Petrarch and Laura. The idea 
 Avhich runs through the second chapter of the " Trionfo 
 della Morte " is especially beautiful, and seems exactly to 
 touch the right chord, Avhen the heart is aching, in times 
 of deep sorrow. Not only does Petrarch insist in the 
 
 3 Trionfo della Fama : 
 
 " Che trae 1' uom del sepolcro, e 'n vita il serbn." 
 * Trionfo del Tempo : 
 
 " il 'i gran tempo a' gran nonii e gran veneno."
 
 PET K ARCH. 39 
 
 most moving language upon the continuity of the existence 
 of his lost Laura in a blessed state of happiness, but he 
 also dwells upon her unchanged interest in the faithful 
 friend who is left behind to mourn her death. The fol- 
 lowing translation can only render in a very feeble manner 
 the beauty and force of the Italian, but it is inserted in 
 the hope that it may lead to the study of the original. 5 
 
 " It was the uight which closed that day of woe, 
 In which the sunlight of my life was hid, 
 And taken back to heaven, whence it came 
 To guide my erring steps. So I remain 
 As one deprived of sight, groping my way. 
 The air was filled, at that first hour of dawn, 
 With summer's softest breeze, whose gentle balm 
 Is wont, from off the shapeless dreams of night, 
 To lift the veil. And there came toward me 
 Advancing, as it were, from out a group 
 Of blest, rejoicing souls, a Lady fair 
 And lovely as the year iu this his prime, 
 With all the fairest Eastern jewels crowned. 
 
 " She placed in mine that hand, which I so long 
 With fondest wish had coveted ; and thus 
 Created in my heart a fount of joy. 
 Then sighing as she spoke, she thus began : 
 ' Dost thou discern iu me thy friend, thy guide 
 Who turned thy footsteps from the common way 
 While yet with gentle sway I ruled thy heart ? ' 
 And thoughtfully in grave and lowly guise 
 She made ine sit beside her on a bank 
 O'ershadowed by a laurel and a beech. 
 ' How should 1 not discern my angel pure ? ' 
 As one cast down with sorrow, I replied. 
 ' In pity of my grief I pray thee say 
 If yet thou art indeed alive, or dead ? ' 
 
 " ' I am alive, and thou as yet art dead, 
 And such thou wilt remain,' she answ'ring said, 
 ' Until at length the solemn hour is struck 
 In which thou too shalt pass from off this earth. 
 Brief is our space of time, alas ! not suited 
 To the extent and length of our discourse j 
 Therefore, be wise, restrain thy speech, and cease 
 Ere the day dawn which is so close at hand.' 
 
 " Tiionfo della Morte," cap. ii.
 
 40 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " ' We reach at length the end of this estate 
 Which we call life,' I trembling *>aid ; ' and then, 
 1 do beseech thee tell me, since by proof 
 Thou knowest it, is there in very truth 
 Such fearful sharpness in the pangs of death ? ' 
 
 " ' While yet thou followest the vulgar herd,' 
 She then replied, ' seeking with all thy might 
 Its partial favour ever blind and hard, 
 In vain thou mayest hope for joy or peace. 
 Death only opens wide the prison gate 
 To faithful souls, setting them free. To those 
 Whose hopes and wishes grovel in this clay 
 Nor rise above it, it is bitter pain. 
 And now my death which doth thy soul so grieve 
 Would fill thee with all gladness, couldst thou know 
 E'en but the thousandth part of my great joy.' " 
 
 It seems as if there could scarcely be a better conclusion 
 to the examination of Petrarch's poetical works, all filled 
 with the name of Laura and dedicated to her honour, than 
 the words of consolation which he puts in her mouth 
 after her death. 
 
 Such, then, is the story of the romantic side of 
 Petrarch's life, however imperfectly sketched ; but what- 
 ever is wanting in the details should be sought for where 
 it will best be found, in the " Canzoniere " themselves. 
 
 Before, however, bidding a final adieu to Laura, some 
 few points of comparison suggest themselves between the 
 character of Petrarch's passion for her and that of Dante 
 for Beatrice. The great poem in honour of the Florentine 
 lady still retained the attraction of novelty when ht-r 
 French rival appeared, to claim in her turn the homage 
 of another marvellous Italian genius, only second to the 
 great Alighieri. Both Dante and Petrarch were inspired 
 with the same fervent wish to immortalize the object of 
 their devoted love, and, in so doing, both obtained for 
 themselves also an immortal name. 
 
 But Dante laid a broader foundation to support his 
 homage to Beatrice, and on it he gradually piled all the 
 science then known, transforming her from a frail being 
 of mortal clay into a personification of the highest truths. 
 Thus he placed her on a pedestal from which no womanly 
 weakness could ever take her down. Laura, on the other 
 hand, is only a woman most beautiful, if one may credit
 
 PETUAECH. 41 
 
 Petrarch, and most perfect ; but she is nothing more. 
 Even when, in the passage just quoted, she appears to 
 him, she is still no more than the Jady of his passionate 
 love, exercising the same good influence after death which 
 she had maintained over him in life. Perhaps the differ- 
 ence between the lives of the two poets may account tor 
 their different modes of celebrating their heroines. There 
 is, it must be admitted, some resemblance between the 
 " Vita Nuova " (that early minor work of Dante's) and 
 the Sonnets of Petrarch, the verses of either poet being 
 often inspired by the trivial incidents of daily life. But 
 Beatrice died in early youth ; with her expired, in two 
 senses, the "Vita !Xuova" of Dante; and the great work 
 of his riper years, written when the faculties of his mind 
 were fully developed, is purely visionary, unsustained by 
 any external aid. Again, what a contrast does the life of 
 Dante present to that of Petrarch. Both, it is true, were 
 exiles, but Petrarch was born in exile, and was, moreover, 
 pressed to return with honour to his country. Dante, in 
 the full pride and vigour of manhood, was driven from 
 his native city by his ungrateful countrymen, and never 
 suffered to return under pain of being burnt alive. His 
 whole life Avas embittered by this treatment : it was also 
 often a hard struggle for him even to exist. Pie knew 
 well, and his proud nature shrank from it, 
 
 " How salt the savour is of others' bread ; 
 How hard the passnge to descend and climb 
 By others' stairs." 6 
 
 The exile of Petrarch, on the contrary, had every alle- 
 viation in the shape of a number of devoted friends and 
 the esteem of most of the European princes, who courted 
 him and desired his favour. We may trace these different 
 circumstances of life in the language, as well as in the 
 ideas of their poetry. Discarding the old trammels of the 
 Latin tongue, Dante had the courage to strike out a new 
 path, and create a language which is, perhaps, the most 
 beautiful and certainly the most melodious of all modern 
 languages. Petrarch completed v hat Dante had begun. 
 He would not have had force or vigour sufficient to coin- 
 
 6 Gary's translation. Par. c. xvii. 1. 60.
 
 42 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 mence such an undertaking, and many of the most hardy 
 and expressive words and figures of speech would never 
 have existed had it not been for the great genius who 
 gave them his name. 
 
 But Petrarch was often superior to Dante in taste, 
 though inferior in depth of thought and creative power. 
 The school of poetry which he formed has left an indelible 
 stamp upon the taste of his country ; and while much of 
 the enchanting grace and delicacy of the Italian language 
 is due to him, he also gave it a stability which has caused 
 it to remain almost unchanged for the last five centuries. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 THE romantic and poetical aspect of Petrarch's character 
 has, for the most part, been alone considered by the 
 generality of readers, but it should be remembered that he 
 was actuated by two other powerful passions the love of 
 his country and the love of knowledge. "With regard to 
 the first, we are not aware of the extent of his politieal 
 influence until we come to investigate his life. Five 
 hundred years have rolled by since his active mind and 
 eloquent tongue have been at rest from earthly labours ; 
 and yet the struggle between the temporal and the spiritual 
 power of the Papal See, which so troubled his mind, has 
 only ceased, if indeed it has ceased, within the last few 
 years. The other struggle for the liberty and independence 
 of his country, which was represented in his time by 
 Rienzi, has been renewed century after century, in all the 
 various phases through which Italy has passed, till quite 
 recently, when, subsiding into quiet and apparent harmony, 
 she has at last become " Italia una," very different from 
 the " Italia mia " to whom Petrarch cried in vain " Pace, 
 pace, pace." 7 
 
 It is a fact worthy of notice that the " seventy years' 
 captivity," as it is called, during which the Papal See was 
 established at Avignon, should have begun one year after 
 
 7 Canzone iv. (sopra vari Argovnenti), translated by Lady Dacre.
 
 PETKAECH. 43 
 
 the birth of Petrarch (1305), and, with the brief interval 
 of Urban the Fifth's three years' sojourn at Rome, should 
 have ended just three years after the poet's death. Seven 
 times the Papal chair at Avignon was destined to be filled 
 in the lifetime of Petrarch. The first Avignonese Pope, 
 Clement V., died in 1314; to him succeeded John XXII., 
 and in the last year of his pontificate Petrarch thought his 
 hopes were about to be realized, for he announces in one 
 of his sonnets that 
 
 " Burtliened with holy keys and Papal robe, 
 His steps CHBIST'S earthly Vicar homeward turns." 8 
 
 But these hopes were extinguished by the death of this 
 Pope in the following year. 
 
 Petrarch, however, undaunted, at once addressed a Latin 
 Epistle to his successor, Benedict XII., imploring him to 
 return to Home. But neither the description of her 
 ancient glory nor of her present miserable condition could 
 induce the Pope to return, although he rewarded the author 
 of the learned Epistle by the gift of a canonry in Lombez ; 
 while, at the same time, he ordered a magnificent palace 
 to be built for himself at Avignon. He was succeeded by 
 Clement VI., and to him the Romans applied, as they had 
 done to his predecessor, to restore the sacred seat to Rome. 
 Petrarch, at that time in Rome, having just received the 
 laurel crown, was among the ambassadors chosen by the 
 citizens to present their supplication, and the famous Cola 
 da Rienzi was another member of the embassy. 9 Both 
 pleaded the cause of Rome with much eloquence before 
 Clement VI., and Rienzi elaborately exposed the demands 
 of the citizens : 
 
 1 . That the Pope should assume the title and functions 
 of Senator of Rome, in order to extinguish the civil wars 
 kindled by the Roman barons. 
 
 2. That he should return to his pontifical chair on the 
 banks of the Tiber. 
 
 s SODD. vi. : 
 
 " II Vieario di Cristo con la soma 
 
 Delle chiavi e del manto al nido torna.' 5 
 
 9 There have been many disputes as to whether Rienzi was com- 
 panion to Petrarch on this embassy, but sufficient reason for giving 
 credit to the fact is to be found in the new Italian edition of Petrarch's 
 letters by Fracasetti, vol. ii. p. 194.
 
 44- STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 3. That he should grant permission for the jubilee 
 instituted by Boniface VIII. 1 to be held every fifty years, 
 and not at the end of a century. 
 
 Petrarch's eloquence was again rewarded by the gift of 
 the priory of Migliarino, but he complains in his letters 
 that he cannot induce the Pope even to wish to see Italy, 
 although he conceded the point of the jubilee every fifty 
 years. The poet gave vent to his indignation against the 
 Papal Court in his letters " sine titulo," in which he un- 
 sparingly condemns, with a courage worthy of Dante, the 
 corruption of the clergy and times. The higher the 
 clerical positions occupied, the more vehemence does he 
 display in exposing and condemning the evil lives of those 
 who held them. It was one of his most earnest desires 
 to reform the discipline of the Church, although, like 
 Dante and Savonarola, he had a firm belief in her 
 doctrines. The system of Church government, which had 
 been bad in Dante's time, became much worse, according 
 to Petrarch, at Avignon, which he compares with the 
 Assyrian Babylon for wickedness and corruption. Inno- 
 cent VI., a French Pope, succeeded to Clement VI. He 
 had no wish to leave his native country, and was deaf to 
 Petrarch's entreaties. Moreover, he thought the Italian 
 poet a magician, because he could read Virgil ! 2 
 
 But when Urban V., the next Pope, wrote to offer him 
 the canonry of Carpentras, Petrarch seized the opportunity 
 in his reply to implore him to return to Rome, pointing 
 out with severe frankness the manifold evils resulting from 
 the position of the Papal Court at Avignon. This time 
 his entreaties and remonstrances were not without effect, 
 for at Easter in the following year (1368), the Pope, 
 regardless of the complaints of the King of France and of 
 his own Cardinals, who did not like to leave the rich 
 palaces which they had built, left Avignon, and four 
 months afterwards made a solemn entry into Rome. 
 Petrarch hastened to express his joy in a letter of con- 
 gratulation to Urban V., who invited him to come to 
 Rome. Petrarch was, however, not allowed to see with 
 his own eyes his darling wish accomplished, for, having 
 
 1 See Inf. c. xviii. s Lettere Senil', L. 3.
 
 PETRARCH. 45 
 
 set out on his journey, he fell ill and was obliged to return 
 to Arqua. Shortly afterwards he received the further 
 shock of healing that the Pope, regardless of the warning 
 of Santa Brigitta that he would die if he returned to 
 Avignon, had set off on his return to France, and had 
 expired immediately after his arrival at Avignon (1372). 
 
 Petrarch lived during only two years of the pontificate 
 of the successor of Urban V. (Gregory XL), not long 
 enough to witness the end of the seventy years' captivity 
 in 1377. In spite of his hardy remonstrances with the 
 Papal Court, he was constantly ottered, by the various 
 Popes, offices of the highest importance, such as the post 
 of Segretario Apostolico, which he refused five times. 
 
 It is true that he accepted four ecclesiastical preferments 
 the canonry of Lombez, conferred upon him by Benedict 
 XII. in 1335 ; the priory of San. Niccolo di Migliarino, in 
 1342 ; the canonry of Coloreto in the church of Parma, in 
 1346, to Avhich was joined the archidiaconate of that 
 church in 1350 ; and the canonry of Padua, procured for 
 him by Jacopo da Carrara, in 1349. But he steadily 
 refused any cure of souls. In one of his letters he observes : 
 " I never would, nor will I ever, accept any prelacy, 
 neither any cure of souls, however richly endowed the 
 benefice. I have enough to do with the care of my own 
 soul, if indeed, by God's mercy, I am able to suffice to 
 that." 
 
 His political influence was not confined to the Popes 
 only. As he shared Dante's views with respect to the 
 Church, in like manner he entertained his opinions as to 
 the Emperors of Germany. Distracted from one end to 
 the other by civil wars between princes, none of whom 
 were strong enough to keep the peace as arbiter harassed 
 by factions, desolated by brigandage, which was encouraged 
 by the nobles, Petrarch saw no hope for the restoration 
 of Italy except from without ; and he echoes Dante's 
 passionate cry of "0 Alberto tedesco," 3 in his appeals to 
 Charles IV., Emperor of Germany, 4 to descend into Italy. 
 
 1 Pnrg. c. vi. 
 
 4 Wht-n before liis election diaries IV. came to Avignon to obtain 
 the favour of the 1 ope, it is said that on some great festive occasion 
 he discerned Laura de Sade, and solemnly kissed her forehead iu the
 
 46 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 It was most strange that a private individual should have 
 dared to make himself not only the counsellor but the 
 admonisher and reprover of a powerful foreign sovereign. 5 
 But the name of patriotism so kindled the soul of Petrarch 
 that he considered it a crime to remain silent. 
 
 " In the midst of the universal silence which prevailed." 
 he says in his letter to Urban V., "my conscience urged 
 me so strongly to appeal to the Emperor of Rome and 
 advise his descent into Italy, that I felt I should be guilty 
 of a crime if I remained silent." The reply of the Em- 
 peror, which is to be found verbatim in the letters already 
 quoted (vol. ii. 83), justifies the conduct of Petrarch in 
 writing to him. Fur from being displeased, the Emperor 
 expresses an earnest desire to know personally the "privile- 
 giato abitatord'Elicona" who wrote to him, while the effect 
 of Petrarch's remonstrances and entreaties is to be seen in 
 his descent into Italy in the year 1354. In reply to the 
 joyful letter of congratulation addressed to him on this 
 occasion by the poet, Charles IV. summoned him to meet 
 him at Mantua. Petrarch was there eight days, and wit- 
 nessed his negotiations with the Lords of the Lombard 
 League, at whose hccid the Emperor was now placed. 
 Charles was very desirous of taking Petrarch with him to 
 Rome to witness his coronation ; this, however, the poet 
 firmly declined. But, alas the vanity of all earthly hopes, 
 even when they seem to be realized ! Petrarch's two 
 chief projects for the restoration of his country the 
 return of the Popes to Rome and the descent of the 
 Emperor of Germany into Italy whereby he hoped to 
 reunite the old factions of Guelph and Ghibelline, were 
 both accomplished only to be immediately undone. Just 
 as Urban V. had fled back to Avignon, leaving Rome in a 
 worse condition than he found it, so with Charles IV., 
 who had solemnly sworn to the Pope that he would not 
 sleep in Rome; 6 no sooner was the ceremony of his 
 coronation accomplished in that city than he hastened to 
 leave it and Italy, upon which he shortly afterwards 
 intended to make war. Petrarch was employed as an 
 ambassador by Galeazzo Visconti, to turn the Emperor 
 
 presence of all the puests as n tribute to her beauty and her fume. 
 This event Petrarch commemorates in Sonnet clxxxi. 
 
 4 Lett. Fum. x. 2. 6 Historical fuct.
 
 PETE ARCH. 47 
 
 from his purpose, and went to Nuremburg to seek him. 
 The Emperor reassured the ambassador by saying that 
 the affairs of Germany were too pressing to admit of his 
 making war upon Italy. Afterwards, in 1357, he invested 
 the poet with the dignity of Count Palatine in its full 
 glory, with all its rights and privileges. It is also on 
 record that he presented him with a golden cup. 
 
 Such, then, was Petrarch's influence over the two great 
 powers of the world at that time the Pope and the 
 Emperor the " two Suns," as Dante calls them, "whose 
 several beams cast light on either way, the world's and 
 God's." 7 But he was also connected with many other 
 crowned heads and princes of Europe. Eobert, King of 
 Naples, was one of his earliest friends, and Petrarch's 
 connection with him is of a literary, not of a political 
 character. When the laurel crown of the poet was 
 offered to Petrarch, by the citizens of Rome, he first went 
 to Xaples (1341), to the court "of the great and most 
 learned King Robert, who was distinguished not only for 
 his wise government, but also for his great learning," 8 in 
 order to be examined by the King if he were deserving 
 of the coveted honour. After an examination of three 
 days, he was proclaimed worthy. In further proof of his 
 esteem, the King made him his almoner, and took off his 
 own royal robe, which he put upon him, and sent him 
 with two ambassadors to Rome to be crowned. At the 
 death of King Robert, two years later, Petrarch was sent 
 by Pope Clement VI. as ambassador to Giovauna, Queen 
 of Xaples, who had succeeded to her father's throne. The 
 yoxing Queen, who inherited her father's taste for learning, 
 was desirous to become better acquainted with Petrarch, 
 and made him her chaplain. 
 
 In 1360 he was sent by Galeazzo Visconti to Paris, to 
 congratidate King John of France upon his deliverance 
 from captivity in England since the battle of Poitiers. 
 He was also employed several times as ambassador in his 
 native country. He was the intimate friend of Andrea 
 
 ' Purg. xvi. : 
 
 Soleva Roma, ch '1 buon mondofeo 
 
 Duo soli, aver che 1' una e 1' altra strada 
 
 Facenn vedere, e del mondo e di Deo. 
 
 8 Epist. ad Post.
 
 43 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Diiudolo, and negotiated a treaty between the two famous 
 republics of Genoa and Venice. The harangue which he 
 delivered on this occasion is preserved as a marvel of 
 eloquence in the libr.iry at Venice. Once again in this 
 year, before his death (1373), he went to Venice to arrange 
 the terms of a peace between that republic and his friends 
 the Carraresi of Padua. Tt was the last service that he 
 rendered his country, whose civil wars he had striven all 
 his life to appease. 
 
 In the life of Petrarch, as in the lives of other great 
 men, there are some strange contradictions, and his conduct 
 with respect to the Koinan Tribune Rienzi presents a 
 curious contrast to the rest of his political career. In the 
 nineteenth century, when the universal cry is for liberty 
 and freedom from all restraint, no apology is needed for 
 the enthusiasm which the enterprise of liienzi awakened 
 in Petrarch's breast, and which poured itself forth in the 
 well-known immortal Canzone, "Spirto gentil.'" 
 
 The mind of Petrarch was imbued with classical 
 studies ; he was the fervent admirer of the ancient heroic 
 deeds of his native country, and his affection for her 
 increased the more she was oppressed and torn asunder 
 by civil discords of which he was both the eye-witness 
 and the victim, being through their means deprived of 
 his patrimony and an exile. Proud, moreover, of the 
 citizenship of Rome, which had been accorded to' him on 
 the Campidoglio the same day as his laurel wreath, we 
 cannot wonder if, when he heard proclaimed from the 
 summit of that famous hill the restoration of liberty, the 
 destruction of tyrants, the reign of peace and justice the 
 " buono stato," as Rienzi himself called his new govern- 
 ment he felt so full of hope as to shut his eyes to the 
 uncertainty and peril of the enterprise, and gave himself 
 up, with all the power of his genius and the influence of 
 his name, to bring about its accomplishment. Such 
 revolutions were then comparatively new to the modern 
 world ; their dangerous character, the fearful jeopardy in 
 which they place the lives of the thousands which they 
 profess to benefit, had not then been experienced, as they 
 have been over and over again since ; a good result being
 
 PETRARCH. 49 
 
 the rare exception, and not the general rule. It is im- 
 possible, therefore, to blame Petrarch for believing Rienzi 
 to be as high-minded, as disinterested in the love of his 
 country, as he was himself ; for thinking him to be as 
 incapable of abusing as he appeared to be capable of using 
 his power. On the contrary, there is much to admire in 
 the disinterestedness which led Petrarch to risk, by his 
 chivalrous defence of the Roman Tribune, the favours 
 and benefits which he had so long enjoyed from the noble 
 and powerful Roman family of the Colonna, whose poli- 
 tical views were diametrically opposite to those entertained 
 by Rienzi. Some biographers aver that Petrarch carried 
 this disinterestedness too far, and, forgetting his obli- 
 gations to the family who had been his benefactors, he 
 wished them sacrificed, in common with the other great 
 Roman families whom Rienzi attacked, to the general 
 good of the cause. In one of his letters there seems to 
 be some foundation for this statement. He writes : 
 
 "As to the two families who are at the head of the 
 present tumult, the first (the Orsini) are no personal 
 enemies of mine ; the other (the. Colonna) are, it is well 
 known, not only my friends, but the objects of my deep 
 affection and veneration ; nor does there exist any princely 
 family in this world more dear to me. Yet the Republic 
 is dearer to me than they are, and dearer still do I hold 
 the peace and future welfare of Rome and Italy." l 
 
 Petrarch, as has been already mentioned, had formed a 
 friendship with Rienzi, when both, belonging to the 
 same embassy, had used their utm< st endeavours to in- 
 duce the Pope to return to Avignon. When, five years 
 later, the news reached him of what Rienzi had accom- 
 plished in Rome that he had driven out the quarrelling 
 nobles, had re-established liberty, had been given a dic- 
 tatorship by the Roman people, and was ruling wisely 
 and prudently he thought his fervent longings for the 
 prosperity and grandeur of Rome were about to be ful- 
 filled. He wrote to Rienzi a letter of congratulation, 
 and defended him, at some personal risk, before the 
 Papal Court. Even when the Tribune, intoxicated with 
 
 1 " Lettere di F. Petrarca," vcl. ii. p. 192.
 
 50 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 success and power, exhibited failings quite unworthy of 
 the principles by which he pretended to be guided, and 
 lost partisans while he gained enemies, Petrarch ignored 
 his follies and continued to correspond with him, im- 
 ploring him not to betray the cause of liberty and justice. 
 After the fall of Rienzi in 1348, when, driven from 
 Rome, he had wandered about from Court to Court, and 
 had finally been delivered up to the Pope by the 
 Emperor, Petrarch again espoused his cause. He be- 
 sought the Romans to come to the assistance of their 
 Tribune, and on their refusing to help him he finally 
 saved the life of Rienzi by spreading the rumour that he 
 was a poet, as it was then considered sacrilege to take the 
 life of any one belonging to the " profession sacree." 
 I)espite the failures of Rienzi and his miserable end, 
 Petrarch never lost the enthusiasm which lie had once 
 felt for him. The charm, however, of his liberal politics 
 seems to have been dispelled from Petrarch's mind and 
 to have been succeeded by totally opposite ideas, which 
 are shown in his entreaties to the Emperor to descend 
 into Italy. " A democracy," says Mr. Burke, in his 
 ''Reflections on the French Revolution," "has many 
 striking points of resemblance with a tyranny." 2 
 
 It now only remains to speak of the literary influence 
 exercised by Petrarch over his country, and how far he 
 tontributed to the revival of literature. He was, in fact, 
 the first real restorer of polite letters. His fine taste led 
 him to appreciate the beauties of Cicero and Virgil, and 
 his ardent enthusiasm for them inspired his country with 
 a thirst lor classical knowledge. With the exception of 
 Boccaccio, no one else had so keenly at heart the disin- 
 terring and bringing to the light the long-neglected Latin 
 and Greek classics. In order to accomplish this, he 
 wrote to all the learned men of the day, and sought 
 among the ancient archives of cities and monasteries. 
 By these means he discovered, in Venice, some ot Cicero's 
 letters, in Arezzo the oratorical institutions of Quintilian, 
 in Liege two of Cicero's harangues, which he copied with 
 his own hand (although he tells us the ink was as yellow 
 
 3 Buike on the French Revolution, p. 144.
 
 PETRARCH. 51 
 
 as saffron) 3 because his indignation was so great against 
 the amanuensi of the time, whose carelessness led them 
 to commit the grossest errors in transcribing. Had it not 
 been for Petrarch's unwearied efforts, many manuscripts 
 would have perished, as several had done no long time 
 before, forgotten and abandoned to dust and vermin in 
 the monasteries. 
 
 The Greek classics were also destined to revive in the 
 fourteenth century, and the glory of reawakening in he 
 minds of men the love of Greek poets and orators fell 
 also to the lot of Petrarch and Boccaccio. The Greek 
 friar Barlaam, a Calabrian by birth, but long resident in 
 Greece, and considered one of the most learned men of 
 that age, was entrusted by the Greek Emperor Cautacuzene 
 with a mission to Italy. In the course of his travels, 
 perhaps in pursuit of the Papal Court, he came to 
 Avignon, where he met Petrarch, who, having heard of 
 his fame, begged to be instructed by him in Greek. 
 Petrarch afterwards pursued the study of the language 
 with Leonzio Pilato, a disciple of Barlaam ; but notwith- 
 standing the assistance of two such great masters, he does 
 not seem to have made much progress, and it was a source 
 of some disappointment to him not to be able to read 
 with ease a copy of Homer, a most rare book in Italy at 
 that time, which had been presented to him by Mcola 
 Sigeros, Prsetor of Romania. Still, although the at- 
 tempts of Petrarch and Boccaccio were not attended with 
 any immediate success, yet they excited a desire for 
 learning, and prepared the way for the real revival of 
 Greek literature a few years later. It may be that 
 Petrarch was hindered from attaining to any perfection 
 in Greek by the careful and life-long study which he 
 bestowed upon the Latin classics. Cicero and Virgil 
 were his models both in prose and in verse, and he strove 
 to form his style upon them in the folio volume of twelve 
 hundred pages which contains his Latin works. This 
 style, although far above the common order of Latin then 
 employed in the schools, is considered inferior to that of 
 the scholars of the sixteenth century, and the fastidious 
 
 3 Lett. Sen. xv. 1. 
 E 2
 
 52 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 taste of Erasmus was offended by the incorrectness and 
 harshness of his style. Erasmus complains that Pe- 
 trarch's writings, although full of thought, are defective 
 in expression, and display the marks of lahour without 
 the polish of elegance. Nevertheless, whatever may 
 be their demerits, there is no doubt that Petrarch 
 rendered an incalculable service to literature in pointing 
 out the road to good Latinity. If the great writers of 
 the sixteenth century surpassed him in Latin prose and 
 verse, still the glory must remain with him of being the 
 first of the moderns who discovered the track of the 
 ancients, and pointed out the road by which it was to 
 be followed. The effect of his influence was like that 
 ascribed by Dante to Virgil, the high moral tone of whose 
 writings prepared men's minds for Christianity. 
 
 The principal Latin works of Petrarch (the whole are 
 too numerous to be cited in this paper) may be classed 
 under the following heads: Philosophical Treatises; 
 Historical Works ; Dialogues ; his Secret, entitled " De 
 contemptu Mundi" containing various clues to the 
 events of his life, his tastes and character, and his most 
 secret thoughts, but never intended to be made public ; 
 twelve Eclogues, which are covert satires upon the Court 
 at Avignon ; his Letters. In imitation of Cicero, he 
 formed a habit of writing to his friends upon every 
 subject, and although he burnt chests full of letters, 
 seventeen books remain and have been published, making 
 about three hundred letters in number. In these are to 
 be found the whole mind of Petrarch ; they partake 
 more of the nature of treatises than of letters, and they 
 are full of interesting details. 4 They are also most im- 
 portant as a history of the events and manners of his 
 age ; it is, however, to be hoped that the portraits of the 
 Papal Court are overcharged. But whether he writes to 
 the potentates of Italy, the Colonna family, Rienzi, for 
 an instant master of Rome, the Prelates and Cardinals, 
 the Emperor of Germany, or the Popes who succeeded each 
 
 4 These letters have been translated into Italian by Giuseppe 
 Fracassetti. They were published at Florence in 1866, with the 
 addition of many interesting notes relative to Petrarch's life and 
 times.
 
 PETRARCH. 53 
 
 other upon their thrones at Avignon he still maintains 
 a noble candour, and that quiet dignity belonging to 
 philosophy and literature, the influence of which is felt 
 and recognized even by the rulers of the earth'. 
 
 His letters to his intimate friends prove that he was 
 as steady in friendship as he was constant in love. The 
 " Lettere delle Cose Familiari," which extended, over a 
 period of thirty-five years, he dedicates to his friend 
 Luigi di Campinia, 5 because " cominciai col tuo nome," he 
 says in the last of these letters, " finisco con quello ; " and 
 his friendship for " Lello," the " Lelio " of his letters, 
 lasted equally long. Both these friendships were formed 
 at the same time, at the house of Giacomo Colonna, Bishop 
 of Lombez, the news of whose death reached Petrarch the 
 same day as that of Laura, and to whom he paid the high 
 compliment of coupling the two names together in one 
 sonnet 
 
 " My Pillar's fallen, my green Laurel dead." 6 
 
 He also addressed to him the beautiful Canzone, " 
 aspettata in ciel." 7 
 
 Philip de Cabassoles, Bishop of Cavaillon and Patriarch 
 of Jerusalem, was another intimate friend. Valchiusa, 
 where Petrarch spent so many years of his life, was in his 
 diocese, and not far from it the Bishop had a country- 
 house. He was distinguished more by his talents and the 
 variety of his learning than by the careful performance of 
 his episcopal functions, and Petrarch himself writes to 
 him as " parvo Episcopo et magno Viro." Passing over 
 many other friends, who cannot be mentioned for want 
 of space, in 1349 Petrarch became acquainted with 
 Boccaccio, who made a visit to Milan on purpose to see 
 his illustrious fellow-citizen. On this occasion Petrarch 
 presented him with a copy of his Latin Eclogues written 
 in his own hand, and Boccaccio in return sent Petrarch 
 from Florence a copy of the " Divina Commedia," which 
 he had himself transcribed. The reply of Petrarch to 
 Boccaccio on the receipt of this present is worth reading. 8 
 
 5 Luipi di Campinia was the " Socrate " of Petrarch's letters. 
 
 6 '' .Uotta e 1' alta Colonna, e '1 verde Lauro." 
 
 7 Soun. ii. Secouda Parte. 
 
 8 See Lett. Fain. xxi. 15.
 
 54 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 He positively denies the charge of envy imputed to him, 
 and reproves Boccaccio for supposing that to praise Dante 
 would make him jealous ; while he excuses himself for not 
 having read the works of Dante, because he feared such 
 a study would interfere with his own project of writing 
 in the vulgar tongue, and that acquaintance with the 
 " Divina Commedia " would make him either an imitator 
 or a plagiarist. The citizens of Florence, in the year 
 1351, entrusted Boccaccio with the pleasing task of 
 recalling Petrarch from exile, in letters couched in the 
 most flattering terms, imploring him to return to his 
 native city, and restoring to him his confiscated patrimony. 
 The intimacy between the two friends continued up to 
 the time of Petrarch's death, and some affirm that 
 Petrarch's last hours were spent in translating the 
 " Decanierone," with which he was much delighted, into 
 Latin the purest Italian into indifferent Latin. 
 
 His poem called " Africa " is the last on the list of 
 Petrarch's Latin works, although it was one of his earliest 
 productions. It is a narrative in verse of the exploits of 
 Scipio Africanus. The faults of this poem are said to 
 predominate over its merits, and it is scarcely ever heard 
 of or mentioned now. Petrarch was himself aware of its 
 imperfections ; it was painful to him to hear it spoken of, 
 and in his old age he even wished to destroy it. Yet the 
 fame acquired in the world by the first book (dedicated to 
 King Robert of Naples) of this poem procured for Petrarch 
 that crown of " caduchi allori " of which at one time he 
 was so desirous. In the year 1340, on the same day, he 
 received, in his peaceful retreat at Valchiusa, the simul- 
 taneous offer of the poet's wreath, from the Chancellor of 
 the University of Paris and from the citizens of Rome. 
 He gave the preference, not unnaturally, to his native 
 country, and was crowned in the Capitol. The Roman 
 Senate revived the custom for Petrarch after many years' 
 disuse. The ceremony was a curious one : the poet 
 walked, surrounded by six of the principal citizens, and 
 preceded by twelve youths of the noblest families of 
 Rome, clothed in scarlet, to the Capitol. 9 After his 
 
 9 This curious ceremony was revived when the fifth centenary of 
 Petrarch was celebrated ut Avignon, July 20th, 1874. The cortege
 
 PETRARCH. 55 
 
 coronation there, accompanied by the same pompous 
 attendance, he proceeded to St. Peter's, where he con- 
 secrated his laural wreath, by causing it to be hung up in 
 the dome of the church. But now the poem which 
 obtained for Petrarch this extraordinary mark of honour 
 lies forgotten and unread, while his Italian poetry, which 
 he held in such little esteem that he wrote it on the spare 
 eighty-four pages which remained at the end of his Latin 
 works, has been the delight of Italy and of the scholars 
 of other nations for the last five centuries. 
 In truth 
 
 " The noise 
 
 Of worldly fame is but a blast of wind 
 That blows from divers points and shifts its name, 
 Shifting the point it blows from." l 
 
 Another contradiction, similar to the political contrast 
 already alluded to, in the life of Petrarch, is to be found 
 in the numerous journeys which he undertook, and which 
 could scarcely have been compatible with his love of 
 quiet and solitude. We read of his peaceful retreats at 
 Valchiusa, at Linterno, and, finally, at Arqua. And yet, 
 according to Tiraboschi, 2 this did not prevent him from 
 being the perfect model of a good traveller " because, in 
 the descriptions which he has left behind him of the 
 countries which he saw, he shows us what should be the 
 plan and the observations of a learned traveller. He 
 describes all the memorable things which are to be seen 
 in Paris, in Ghent, in Liege, in Aix-la-Chapelle, Cologne, 
 and Lyons, the manners and customs which he observed 
 there, their progress in learning, and all the common 
 traditions in vogue." 
 
 He has left behind him a beautiful account of his 
 journey through the kingdom of Xaples, and the reflections 
 to which it gave rise. 3 He intended also to visit the Holy 
 
 of the crowning of Petrarch was composed of persons representing 
 the principal nobles of the time, and lastly there was the triumphal 
 chariot, splendidly decorated, which was received with enthusiasm. 
 1 Gary's trans. See Purg. xi,: 
 
 " Xon e ii mondau romore altro ch' un fiato. 
 
 Di vento," &c,, &c. 
 - Tir. v. p. 128. 3 Lett, Finn. v. 4.
 
 66 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEKATDEE. 
 
 Land, but was deterred by the perils of a long sea- voyage ; 
 nevertheless, he wrote- 1 for the friend who was going 
 there, and who had asked him to accompany him the 
 " Itinerarium Syriacum," which describes minutely the 
 places he would pass through on his way, and the things 
 which he ought particularly to observe. It was a book 
 which shed much light on the obscure condition of 
 history and geography of those times. Petrarch even 
 went so far as to make a present of the library of books, 
 which he had collected with so much care, to the Republic 
 of Venice, because he found them such an impediment 
 when he travelled, for they were so numerous that he 
 was obliged to hire several mules to carry them, and he 
 could not bear to leave any behind. In return, the 
 Venetian Senate issued a decree that the public money 
 should be spent in buying and maintaining, with all the 
 necessiry expenses, a suitable house for Petrarch's sole 
 USP, and this house was " II Palazzo delle due Torn nel 
 sestiere di Castello." 
 
 It has been seen that Petrarch was the father of 
 Italian lyrical poetry ; a zealous and earnest patriot, with 
 his country's best interests always at heart ; the restorer 
 of Latinity, whose finest ancient models he rescued from 
 destruction ; the promoter of the study of Greek ; that he 
 was also a man of science. Some writers even maintain 
 that he believed in the existence of the Antipodes before 
 his countrymen discovered them a century later, found- 
 ing this assumption upon the sonnet in which he 
 describes 
 
 " The daylight hastening with winged steps, 
 Perchance to gladilen the expectant eyes 
 Of far-oft' nations iu a world remote." 4 
 
 But his fame is sufficiently established without pausing 
 to consider the probability of this supposition. 
 
 His life long if measured by its incidents, although 
 the number of his years was only threescore and ten 
 was brought to a close at Arqua on the 18th of July, 1374. 
 He died as he had lived, in the pursuit of knowledge and 
 
 4 Canz. iv. : 
 
 " che '1 di nostro vola 
 A gente, che di Ik forse 1' aspetta."
 
 PETRARCH. 57 
 
 in the improvement of himself and of mankind ; for 
 when his servants entered his room they found him dead 
 sitting in his chair, with his head bent over a book. 
 
 His personal character was of a most amiable kind. 
 He neither desired nor despised riches. Without conceit 
 he knew his own worth. He loved fame, but was not 
 eager in the pursuit of it. Liberty and tranquillity were 
 most dear to him, and in order to preserve them he re- 
 fused many a dignified position, and the chance of still 
 greater wealth and power. His habits and tastes were of 
 a most simple nature. Adversity never disheartened 
 him, and the influence of the court and the world never 
 sullied his character, which was firmly established upon 
 the basis of morality and religion. His patience was 
 exemplary, and his vigorous memory never recalled an 
 injury, while his anger was easily appeased. The error 
 of his life, which he acknowledges with perfect candour 
 in his later poetry, arose from the violence and excess of 
 his passion for Laura, which, although it raised the tone 
 of his moral character, absorbed him too entirely. 
 
 " Keep the choicest of thy love for God," 
 
 says Dante (Par. xxvi.) ; and Petrarch knew that in the 
 early part of his life he had not done this ; but what 
 can be more beautiful than the concluding lines of his 
 " Epistle to Posterity " 1 
 
 "And now I make my prayer to Christ, in order that 
 He may sanctify the close of my earthly life, that He may 
 have mercy upon me and pardon the sins of my youth, 
 remembering them not. . . . And with an earnest heart 
 I pray that it may please God, in His own good time, to 
 guide my long erring and unstable thoughts ; that as 
 hitherto they have been scattered over many earthly 
 objects, they may now be centred in Him, the One true, 
 unchangeable, certain, and Supreme Good." 
 
 ADDENDUM. 
 
 Since this essay was first printed, Capponi has published 
 his " Storia della Republica di Firenze," and the following
 
 58 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 passage from it is given in a translation as an evidence 
 of the esteem in which Petrarch is now held in Italy : 
 
 " I consider Petrarch, in so far as regards poetical 
 expression, a perfect writer in his own language. He 
 neither errs iu artificial ornament nor does he fall into 
 the opposite extreme of a studied brevity. He is guided 
 by a wonderful temperance of judgment which withholds 
 him from ever straining beyond the power of his grace in 1 
 poetical genius.; on the other hand he never descends from 
 that serene elevation of thought inspired by the noble 
 character of his love, by a disposition naturally virtuous 
 and an intellectual life led and nuitured by constant study. 
 
 " His writings are a record of affections which, ever 
 present to his inind, are bidden by his poetical fancy to 
 overflow thence in a stream as of living water, not with 
 the impetus of the strong passions which make the utter- 
 ances of Dante boil, seethe and foam, but, while instinct 
 with vivid imagination and feeling, they are still re- 
 strained by the practised skill which he knew so well how 
 to summon to his aid in expressing his thoughts. Hence 
 it is that the writings of Petrarch have always a peculiar 
 ease and grace, nor does he ever seek to dive into the 
 depths of our idiom. ... In his Rhymes there is never 
 a word or form of speech which cannot now be used 
 without affectation. 
 
 " Throughout his life no one was less a Florentine or 
 more an Italian than he was. He made himself the 
 citizen of Italy because he would not belong to one par- 
 ticular place. He was neither Guelph nor Ghibelline, 
 and in the public events of his country he took no part 
 except to censure generally the vices by which it was 
 disturbed. He fixed his gaze on ancient Rome, whose 
 literature he strove to revive, and made himself what was 
 at that time a new discovery, the life of a man of letters, 
 hence his fame and a tranquil existence, undisturbed by 
 the hatred and strife which he persistently shunned. 
 His fame lives by the " Canzoniere," for the great 
 mass of his compositions in the Latin tongue, including 
 the letters which he called ' familiari,' are merely exercises 
 of scholarship. Yet in his own time these works also were
 
 PETRARCH. 59 
 
 highly esteemed for the tone of calm judgment which is 
 never ahsent from his compositions, the noble character 
 of his thoughts, and the love of learning to which the 
 revival of the ancient classical glory of Italy was mainly 
 due." Capponi, Storia della Republica di Firenze, vol. i. 
 lib. iii. c. ix.
 
 GO STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 TORQUATO TASSO: 
 
 His LIFE AND WORKS. 
 
 PART I. 
 
 " For I have battled with mine agony, 
 And uiade me wings wherewith to overfly 
 The narrow circus of tny dungeon wall, 
 And freed the Holy Sepulchre from thrall, 
 And revfh'd among men and things divine, 
 And pour'd my spirit over Palestine, 
 In honour of the sacred war for Him, 
 The GOD who was on earth and is in heaven ; 
 For He linth strengthen'd me in heart and limb. 
 That through this sufferance I might be forgiven, 
 1 have employed my penance to record 
 How Sale m's shrine was won and how adored." 
 
 BTBON, Lament of Tasso. 
 
 IT is a painful reflection that it is almost always a 
 melancholy task to chronicle the lives of the poets. 
 They seem in so many cases, either from outward cir- 
 cumstances or from physical infirmities, to have been 
 selected as the especial victims of " fortune's freaks 
 unkind." 
 
 The prince of poets the " signor dell' altissimo canto, 
 che sovra gli altri com' aquila vola " ! affords us the first 
 proof of this melancholy truth ; and, unhappily, many 
 irore examples might be found in the lives of those who 
 followed most closely in his path to fame. 
 
 But perhaps above all, the subject of this essay has 
 the greatest claim to our compassion ; certainly of all the 
 four classical poets of Italy he was the most unfortunate. 
 He was not made of that stem stuff which enabled Dante 
 with fierce hardihood to endure the rude shocks of 
 
 1 " The monarch of sublimest song, 
 
 That o'er the others like an eagle soars." 
 
 Inf. iv. 90, 91.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO. 61 
 
 fortune, while his great intellect supplied him with a 
 keen weapon wherewith to take a sharp and everlasting 
 revenge upon his enemies. Aias ! the " gentile cavaliere," 
 the sensitive, chivalrous Tasso, was only too susceptible of 
 the great sorrows in store for him. 
 
 There have been many records of his troubled existence, 
 and great writers both in verse and prose have found it 
 a theme worthy of their best efforts. The following 
 sketch has been compiled from some of these standard 
 works, 2 more in the hope of inducing the reader to 
 pursue, either in them or in Tasso's own beautiful 
 writings, the study of the poet's life, than with any 
 expectation of doing justice in its brief scope to so great 
 a subject. It may, however, acquire some new interest 
 from a recent poem entitled " Torquato Tasso a Sant' 
 Anna," 3 which adds yet a few more touches of tender 
 feeling to this pathetic episode of Tasso's life. 
 
 TORQUATO TASSO was born at Sorrento on the llth of 
 March, 1544 ; but three other cities of Italy claim a share 
 in the production of so great a genius Bergamo, the seat 
 of his paternal ancestors for many generations ; Naples, 
 the residence of his mother's family and the scene of his 
 early education ; Ferrara, his home during twenty years 
 of his life. 
 
 The parents of Tasso were descended from the most 
 ancient families of Italy. That of his father, Bernardo, 
 may be traced back to the twelfth century, when the 
 family of the Tassi possessed an estate named Almenno, 
 about five miles from Bergamo. Driven thence by the 
 wars to which Italy was a constant prey, they sought 
 refuge among the mountains of the valley of the Brembo. 
 Here they reared a fortress on a rocky eminence called 
 II Cornello, and became feudal lords of the territory. 
 This mountain was called "La Montagna del Tasso." 
 
 " Manso, " Vita di Tasso ; " Serassi, " Vita del Tasso ; " Mura- 
 tori, " Storia della Perfetta Poesia ; " II Quadrio " Storia e ragione 
 d : ogni Poesia;" Tiraboschi, "Storia della Letteratura Italiana;" 
 Maffei, " Orazione in lode di Torquato Tasso " (1596) ; " L' Italia 
 Letteraria Artistica." Ginguene, " Hist. Litteraire dc 1'Italie '' 
 Milman's " i^ife of Tasso," &c., &c. 
 
 3 By Riccardo Ceroni, published at Milan, 1874.
 
 62 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 It is a disputed point with Italian biographers whether 
 the Tassi, originally a branch of the Torreggiani of Milan, 
 first took thi?ir name from this mountain, or whether the 
 family name of Tasso did not exist some two centuries 
 previous to their occupation of the fortress. It is not a 
 matter of great importance ; and it is only necessary to 
 observe that the family of the Tassi adopted the former 
 of these two theories. 
 
 Their first distinction was due to the re-establishment 
 of the ancient system of posts, the generalship of which 
 in Italy, Germany, Flanders, and Spain was committed 
 to Omocleo de' Tassi in 1 290. For many generations this 
 honour was transmitted to his descendants. Hence the 
 family arms of a courier's horn and a badger's skin (Tasso 
 being the Italian for badger), which the post-horses used 
 in former times to carry on their frontlets. 
 
 Many branches of the family tree spread as far as 
 Naples, Rome, and Venice ; but the most direct shoot of 
 the ancient stock is said to be that from which sprang 
 Bernardo, the father of the poet. Bernardo married, in 
 his forty-eighth year, Porzia dei Rossi, of an ancient 
 family of Pistoia, at that time recently transplanted into 
 Naples, where they had great possessions. Torquato was 
 their only surviving son. One other son they had who 
 died a few days after his birth, and a daughter, Cornelia, 
 born two or three years before Torquato, and to whom 
 he afterwards fled for refuge in the time of his sorest 
 need. 
 
 The education of Torquato in his early years was chiefly 
 thrown upon his mother, for at three years old his father 
 was obliged to entrust him to her sole care. 
 
 For twenty years Bernardo had been the secretary and 
 faithful follower of Sanseverino, Prince of Salerno. He 
 supported him in his attempt to resist the establishment 
 of the Inquisition in Naples by the viceroy ; he accom- 
 panied him on his embassy to the Emperor Charles V., 
 the first time when he returned having successfully 
 accomplished his mission ; and the second, when, warned 
 of the intended treachery of the Emperor, Sanseverino 
 transferred himself and his services to the French king, 
 Henry II., Bernardo did not hesitate to follow him to
 
 TORQUATO TASSO. 63 
 
 France, sharing the exile and confiscation of property 
 which that step brought upon him. 
 
 He little thought, when he left his wife and young son 
 in the Palazzo de' Gambacorti at Naples, that this would 
 be the end of his embassy, and that loyalty to his master 
 would make his return thither for ever impossible. 
 
 There was indeed a scheme for another French inva- 
 sion of Naples, of which Sanseverino was appointed by 
 Henry II. commander-in-chief ; and, had it been suc- 
 cessful, Bernardo was to have obtained the recovery of 
 his property. But the scheme failed. The French fleet 
 did not arrive in time to effect a combination with the 
 Turkish squadron for the joint attack of both fleets upon 
 Naples. Sanseverino set off in a vain pursuit of his 
 faithless allies to Constantinople, the attention of the 
 .King of France was diverted by the war in the Low 
 Countries, and the conquest of Naples was abandoned. 
 
 Disheartened and ruined, Bernardo returned from 
 Paris, where he had vainly tried to revive the king's zeal 
 for the Neapolitan enterprise, to Rome, and thither he 
 summoned his wife and children to join him. 
 
 Meanwhile Torquato, under the care of D. Giovanni 
 d' Angeluzzo, the master chosen for him by his father 
 before setting out on his hapless expedition, early began 
 to give promise of those rare abilities with which nature 
 had gifted him. These were next developed in the 
 Jesuits' school, one of the first established in Naples, 
 opened in 1551. Torquato was then in his seventh year. 
 His ardour for study was so great, Manso affirms, that he 
 would get up before it was light, so that his mother was 
 to have him conducted with lighted torches to the school. 
 His progress in Latin and Greek was so surprising, that 
 when ten years old he is said to have composed in both 
 these languages, and to have recited his compositions in 
 public. To the same early instructors of his youth may 
 be attributed those deep-seated religious convictions which 
 guided him through life, supported him in his deepest 
 misery, and prompted the poem which won him an im- 
 mortal name. 
 
 From the school where he was thus happily pursuing 
 the paths of learning he was summoned by his father to
 
 64 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEBATUKK. 
 
 Rome ; but the pang of parting with his mother, who had 
 hitherto tenderly watched over him, was very bitter. His 
 grief was poignant, and so indelibly stamped upon lii> 
 mind, that not even the great troubles of his after-life 
 could ever efface it ; for when these were at their height, 
 after his second flight from prison, not his present suf- 
 fering, but this eai'ly sorrow is recorded in the sonnet 
 which he wrote ou that occasion. 
 
 Bernardo's wife was prevented from joining him at 
 Rome by the harsh conduct of her brothers, who refused 
 to pay her dower, and would not suffer her to leave 
 ^Naples. The position of her husband as a declared rebel 
 made it impossible for Porzia to take any steps to recover 
 her fortune ; nor could Bernardo enter the kingdom to 
 rescue his wife. At length, unable, either by tears or 
 entreaties, to move her tormentors, Porzia was obliged to 
 resign herself, and to escape further persecution she took 
 refuge with her daughter Cornelia in a convent. Ber- 
 nardo was only reconciled to this step by the hope of 
 being able to rescue her at some future time. But this 
 never came to pass. The unhappy lady died of a broken 
 heart two years after her enforced separation from her 
 husband (1556). 
 
 Torquato arrived in Rome in 1554. His father, already 
 affectionately proud of his proficiency in learning, now 
 placed him under the direction of Maurizio Cattaneo, one 
 of the first and most learned masters in Italy a gentle- 
 man in manner, and free from pedantry. But Rome did 
 not long continue a safe abode for Bernardo and his son. 
 A fierce war broke out between the Pope, Paul IV., and 
 Philip IL of Spain, and Bernardo, finding it a hopeless 
 task to regain his Neapolitan possessions, retired to the 
 court of the Duke of Urbino. Torquato went with him, 
 and remained at the court two years, sharing the instruc- 
 tions of the young prince Francesco Maria, until his 
 father, who had, during this time, been engaged in com- 
 pleting a poem, the " Amadigi," was invited by the gr< at 
 Venetian academy " Delia Farna " to have it printed at 
 the Aldine Press, then under the direction of Paolo 
 Manuzio. Bernardo repaired to Venice with all speed, 
 and was appointed secretary to the "Accademia." Jl<:
 
 TORQUATO TASSO. 65 
 
 did not hold this office long, the duties being of a tedious 
 and laborious character; and he quitted his post just in 
 time to save himself from the ruin brought on the whole 
 academy by the fraudulent conduct of its founder, Fede- 
 rigo Badoaro. This catastrophe prevented the printing of 
 the "Amadigi" by the Aldine Press; it was confided instead 
 to the hands of Gabrieli Giolito, and published, in 1561, 
 with a dedication to the " Invittissimo e Cattolico Re 
 Filippo IT.," as a last hope of inducing the Spanish court 
 to restore to the author his forfeited estates. The " Ama- 
 digi," though tedious, is supposed to have some merits ; 
 and Bernardo might have been considered a poet, if his 
 son had not written the " Gerusalemme Liberata." 
 
 Torquato had been with his father during his sojourn 
 at Venice, and had specially devoted himself to the 
 perusal of his native classics Dante, Petrarca, and Boc- 
 caccio ; and the fruit of these studies appears in the 
 polished and masterly style of his great poem. He was 
 next sent to study the law in Padua, under the guidance 
 of Scipione Gonzaga. These legal studies were pursued 
 with such conscientious diligence, that in his seventeenth 
 year he took his degree in civil and canon law. Never- 
 theless, they were as distasteful to the young Torquato as 
 they had been to Boccaccio, Petrarca, and Ariosto. In his 
 case, as in theirs, the stern study of the law was power- 
 less to quench the inextinguishable spark of poetic fire. 
 That same year (1562) the " Kinaldo " appeared, which 
 created an extraordinary sensation in Italy, and covered 
 " II Tassino " (as he was called to distinguish him from 
 his father) with distinction. But in a short space of 
 time it was so entirely eclipsed by the " Gerusalemme 
 Liberata," that Tasso himself scarcely counted it among 
 his works. Serassi, quoting Menage, observes " that the 
 " Rinaldo " is the work of a youthful poet, but that poet is 
 Tasso ; jnst as Longinus said the " Odyssey " was the work 
 of an old man, but that old man was Homer." 4 The 
 chief professors of the University of Padua thought so 
 highly of this poem, that they pressed Bernardo to allow 
 his son to publish it immediately. The learned members 
 of the various literary academies which at that time 
 
 4 " Vita del Tass^," lib. i. 117.
 
 CG STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 abounded in Italy expressed their approval, either in 
 letters or sonnets, to the young poet, who, stimulated by 
 their approval, could no longer resist his natural inclina- 
 tion, and resolved to detach himself henceforth from legal 
 studies, and give his undivided attention to the pursuit 
 of poetry and philosophy. 
 
 The fame of his " Rinaldo " procured Tasso an invitation 
 to the University of Bologna from the president, Pier 
 Donato Cesi, who was trying to revive the ancient glory 
 of the university, and, by the offer of large stipends, induced 
 the distinguished professors of the day to give lectures 
 to the pupils, while he undertook the charge of the colleges 
 and schools, which had fallen into decay. Tasso attained 
 to much distinction, disputing and lecturing in the public 
 schools, especially on the subject of poetry. He laid down 
 those rules and principles of an heroic poem which after- 
 wards guided him in the composition of the " Gerusalemme 
 Liberata." He likewise attended Sigonio's public lectures 
 on the "Poetics" of Aristotle, and the private instructions, 
 in philosophy, of Sperone, Piccolomini, and Perdasio. 
 
 His sojourn at Bologna was cut suddenly short by a 
 disturbance of which he was unjustly the victim, and 
 which appears to foreshadow, in some sort, the kind of 
 persecution which pursued him all his life. The dangerous 
 weapon of satire, frequently employed by the students of 
 the university in attacking either each other or the 
 professors, or sometimes the great noblemen of Bologna, 
 had, as yet, never brought any retaliation upon those who 
 employed it. Tasso, for no apparent reason, was selected 
 as the first victim of a severer rule. A playful satire upon 
 some gentleman of Bologna, in which he included himself 
 (the ridicule, in reality, centring on his own head), ex- 
 posed him to a visit from the police, who searched among 
 his papers for the offending squib; and this not being 
 forthcoming, his other papers were seized and laid before 
 the magistrates. The high spirit of Tasso could not 
 brook this insult, and after justifying himself against the 
 harsh and ill-founded accusation, in an indignant letter to 
 his father, he turned his back on Bologna, and returned to 
 his former friends at Padua. The Paduan Academy of 
 the "Eterei" (Ethereals), of which he was a niember,
 
 TORQUATO TASSO. 67 
 
 welcomed him with joy, and he, after the fashion of the 
 academicians, who each took some nickname or other, 
 chose that of " II Peutito " (The Penitent), to denote his 
 sorrow at having ever forsaken their society, and pur- 
 sued with renewed vigour his favourite researches after 
 poetry. 
 
 He had already conceived the scheme of the " Gerusa- 
 lemme," and on this all his studies were made to centre, 
 gathering as it were from each science the choicest 
 flowers wherewith to adorn and enrich his poem, 
 
 At length his studies at Padua were completed, and 
 Tasso hastened to join his father at Mantua, to whom he 
 communicated the scheme of his new poem, and showed 
 him at the same time the three discourses on the art of 
 poetry, which he had prepared to help him in the treat- 
 ment of his subject. Bernardo generously admitted the 
 probable superiority of his son's poem to his own, inas- 
 much as he had ministered to the popular taste by a 
 series of romances, while Torquato had followed the 
 footsteps of Homer and Virgil in limiting his poem to a 
 single action. Meanwhile the hopes placed by Bernardo 
 in the King of Spain had proved fruitless, and it behoved 
 him, though with sore reluctance, to endeavour to secure 
 a place at some one of the courts for his son Torquato, as 
 his only means of subsistence. Had it not been for his 
 own bitter experience of the unsatisfactory and precarious 
 life of a courtier-poet, Bernardo might have been tempted 
 by the brilliant spectacle presented by the courts of Italy 
 in the sixteenth century. It seemed as if each and all of 
 these had one common object in view the protection 
 and encouragement of all branches of art, literature, and 
 science ; in short, that their chief aim was to encourage 
 and stimulate the young genius of Italy. 
 
 It was the age of art, poetry, painting, and architecture, 
 combined to illustrate all that was beautiful in men's 
 eyes. Titian, Tintoretto, and Paolo Veronese, had suc- 
 ceeded Michael Angelo and Kaffaello ; Palladio was be- 
 ginning to erect the stately architecture which has ever 
 since borne his name ; while the new poem of the 
 " Rinaldo " gave promise that another name would soon 
 be added to the classical poets of Italy. 
 F 2
 
 08 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 It was the age of science. Sarpi had recently composed 
 his admirable " History of the Council of Trent," which had 
 occupied theologians for many years. Music, mathematics, 
 philosophy, and astronomy, were being developed by the 
 Galilei, both father and son, Doni, the musician and 
 mathematician, Sigonio and Kobertello, and many others. 
 Such was the scene upon which the young -Tasso was 
 destined to play no insignificant part. He had already 
 proved himself worthy to claim a place in that brilliant 
 assembly of genius and intellect, and had given a pledge 
 that he would shine as a star in any one of those gay 
 courts which should be fortunate enough to secure 
 him. 
 
 But Bernardo knew that the Italian princes were as 
 capricious in withdrawing as they were magnificent in 
 bestowing their favours, that their courts were full of 
 unscrupulous courtiers and petty intriguers. He had 
 hoped that his son's legal studies would have placed him 
 in a position of honourable independence ; but Tasso 
 refused to enter the law, and liis father did not .know how 
 to maintain his son otherwise than by placing him at the 
 court of one of the Italian princes. Already there was a 
 rivalry between tlie two brothers, the Cardinal Lui^i 
 d Este and Alfonso II., the reigning Duke of Ferrara, 
 which should claim the young poet. On the one hand, 
 the cardinal urged the first right of possession in the poem 
 of " Einaldo," already dedicated to him ; on the other 
 hand, the duke wished, by offering Tasso a place at his 
 court, to claim a right in the forthcoming greater 
 poem. 
 
 For some time Tas.o declined to enroll himself among 
 the gentlemen of either prince, professing equal service 
 and duty to both the duke and the cardinal. At length, 
 in 15G5, he was invited to Ferrara by both brothers, with 
 the intimation that he would for the present belong to 
 the. cardinal's household, and that he was to meet his 
 patron at Ft-rrara in December, to be present at the 
 ninrriajie of the duke with Barbara, Archduchess of 
 Austria. 
 
 TJIPSO was in his twenty-first year when he arrived at 
 Feirara, in October, 15G5. Look al him now for in a
 
 TOKQTJATO TASSO. 69 
 
 few short years we shall have a more painful picture to 
 contemplate. If we study the account of him by his 
 friend and contemporary biographer, Manso, we shall find 
 that his face bore the stamp of great intellectual power in 
 the high, noble forehead, the grey, thoughtful eyes and 
 their melancholy beauty of expression. His features were 
 regular and well cut, his hair of a light brown. He was 
 above the average height, well-built, with strong agile 
 limbs, that yielded to none in fencing, riding, and all 
 manly exercises ; and his presence was such as might 
 grace any court. 
 
 The first years of his life at Ferrara were peaceful and 
 happy ; he looked back upon them with longing eyes, and 
 could not be persuaded, until he had learned it from 
 bitter experience, that misery and danger awaited him 
 there. The city was gay with the festivities of the 
 approaching wedding when he first entered it ; the pre- 
 parations for the tournament and all the accessories of the 
 brilliant scene charmed the poet's fresh youthful fancy. 
 He was courteously received, and apartments were assigned 
 to him in the house of his patron, where he could finish 
 his great poem, of which the first six cantos were already 
 complete. 
 
 The court of Ferrara was at that time a splendid 
 specimen of Italian magniHcence, and the Este, without 
 tracing back their genealogy to the fabulous origin 
 assigned to them by Tasso and Ariosto, were among the 
 most ancient families in Italv. The sisters of the duke 
 Lucrezia, who afterwards married the Duke of Urbino, 
 and Leonora were the chief ornaments of this court. 
 The reputation of their beauty had already reached 
 Tasso, and in his " Rinaldo " 5 he hnd celebrated the " crin 
 d' oro," and the " chiare lnci " of Lucrezia d' Estense. At 
 the time of his introduction at court, the one sister was in 
 her thirtieth, the other in her thirty-first year. They were 
 ladies 'of cultivated minds, and Tasso's great abilities 
 were already known to them. They admired the poetry 
 which he had already written, and greatly encouraged 
 him to finish his "Gerusalemme Liberata," while they 
 shared the high expectations which the promise of this 
 5 Canto viii. 14.
 
 70 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 poem had already excited in Italy. It was surely no 
 wonder if one so gifted soon became the favourite com- 
 panion of their leisure hours. He read to them portions 
 of his poem, asking their opinion on different points, and 
 wrote sonnets in praise of their beauty and various gifts. 
 4 They unite," he says in one of his letters, " discernment 
 with intellect, majesty with courtesy, so that it is difficult 
 to determine for which of these qualities they are most 
 to be admired." His was not a nature to be insensible to 
 their courtesies, or to the pleasures of an existence which 
 in every way commended itself to his refined taste. 
 
 This pleasant stream of life might have flowed on in an 
 uninterrupted course, had it not been impeded by his 
 fatal passion for the Princess Leonora. Unhappily ho 
 was early captivated by her rare beauty and many at- 
 tractions, and she became the object of the devotion and 
 admiration natural to a person of his eagor enthusiastic 
 disposition. He commemorated in a canzone the first 
 occasion on which he saw her, and there is no doubt that 
 the episode of Olindaand Sofronin, in the "Gerasalemme," 
 is intended to represent her and himself. 
 
 " She fair, lie full of bashfulness nnd truth, 
 Loved much, hoped little, and desired nought; 
 He durst not speak, by suit to purchase ruth, 
 She saw not, inark'd not, wist not what he sought; 
 Thus loved, thus served he long, but not regarded, 
 Unseen, uumark'd, unpitied, unrewarded. ' ' 
 
 In vain did the friends of Tasso endeavour to make 
 him withdraw this episode, pronouncing it to be dis- 
 connected with the rest of the poem. He always steadily 
 refused to do so. His letters, his canzone, his treatises, 
 all bear witness to the truth of this hopeless and ill-fated 
 attachment, and are full of the praises of Leonora, whose 
 name he thus masks under a play of words : 
 
 " E le mio rime, 
 
 Che son vili e neglette se non qunnto 
 Costei le-onora col bel nome santo," 
 
 just as Petrarch would play upon the name of Laura, 
 presenting her under various images, now as the emblem 
 of fame, and now as the fresh breeze (!' aura). 
 
 " Uerusalemme Liberatn," Fairfax's translation, hook ii. c. 16.
 
 TOEQUATO TASSO. 71 
 
 Tasso, aware of the danger to which this passion ex- 
 posed him from the proud house of Este, i'eigned an 
 attachment lor a lady of the court, Lucrezia Bendidtio, 
 to mask the real frtate of his feelings. In so doing he 
 became the rival of Pigna, the duke's private secretary ; 
 and thus in avoiding one peril fell into another. He is 
 also supposed, in his early youth, to have had another 
 attachment to a young lady of Mantua, Laura Peperara, 
 whose name is often mentioned in his sonnets ; but it 
 appears from incontes'able evidence, as will be seen later 
 on, that his passion for the Princess Leonora was never 
 absent from his mind, that, in fact, it was the rock on 
 which his life made shipwreck. 
 
 For many years he succeeded in concealing from every- 
 body the real state of his mind, discussing in the Acad my 
 (f Ferrara with calm philosophy the abstract questions, 
 which had revived the old " Corti d' Amore " of Provence, 
 and holding the lists for three days against every comer, 
 in his " Fifty Conclusions on Points of Love." Twenty 
 years afterwards he rearranged his " Conclusions " in a 
 dialogue, called "II Cataneo," 7 which is considered a 
 masterpiece among his prose writings. 
 
 The first seven years of his life at Ferrara, the happiest 
 of Tasso's existence, were passed chiefly in the city, except 
 when, on the occasion of the duke's absence, he paid visits 
 to his literary friends at Padua, Milan, and Pavia, or to 
 Mantua to visit his father. 
 
 Bernardo Tasso was subsequently appointed, by the 
 Duke of Mantua, governor of Ostia, whither Tasso was 
 summoned to attend him on his death-bed, September 4, 
 1569. Bernardo was happy in his death, for he lived 
 long enough to see the first dawn of his son's fame, while 
 he was spared the knowledge of the misery in store for 
 him. The affection between father and son is a very 
 touching trait in the lives of both. Bernardo never 
 hesitated to admit the superiority of his son's poetical 
 genius ; and Torquato, on the other hand, never forgot 
 this generosity, and held his father's opinion in the 
 highest esteem. 
 
 In 1572 Tasso was called upon to attend his patron, 
 7 Vol. viii. 321.
 
 72 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the Cardinal d' Este, to France. Previous to his departure 
 Lo matle his will, "because," he said, "life is uncertain, 
 and it might please God that I should never return from 
 France." He bequeathed the completed portions of his 
 "Gottifredo," as he called the " Gerusalemme Liberata," to 
 the care of his three friends, Scipio Gonzaga. Domenico 
 Veniero, and liattista Guarini, to be revised, corrected, and 
 published. The rest of his unpublished poetical works, the 
 "Canzoni" and "Madrigali," he directed to be buried with 
 him ; and all his goods to be sold, that the profits might 
 be employed in putting up a monument to his father in 
 the church of San Egidio at Mantua, with a Latin in- 
 scription which he had himself prepared, as a last act of 
 filial love and duty. 
 
 Tasso was presented by the Cardinal d' Este at the 
 French court, as the bard who was about to celebrate the 
 feats of arms of Godfrey de Bouillon, and the other 
 French heroes of the first Crusade. His fame had 
 already preceded him, and he was received with every 
 mark of favour and distinction. Charles IX., the reign- 
 ing monarch, with all his faults, was a patron of literature, 
 and had some pretensions to being himself a poet ; he 
 was therefore quick to appreciate the privilege of re- 
 ceiving at his court the first poetical genius of Italy. 
 During his sojourn of a year at Paris, Tasso was intro- 
 duced to all the eminent litteratt of the day, and made 
 the acquaintance of Ronsard, of whose poetry he had 
 long entertained a high opinion. 
 
 France was at that time distracted by the Huguenot 
 wars, and the crisis of "St. BaitheU-mi " (1572) was 
 approaching. Tasso, whose early education had im- 
 planted in his mind a horror of schism, and an un- 
 questioning belief in the doctrines of the Roman Church, 
 wrote a treatise expressing his opinion that the heresy of 
 the Huguenots should be uprooted with unflinching 
 severity ; but the massacre of St. Barthclemi did not 
 take place till some months after his departure from 
 Paris. He also wrote a description of French manners 
 and customs, comparing Paris with Milan and Venice, to 
 the disadvantage of the former of these two cities, while 
 as far as regards the latter he declares it to be difficult
 
 TORQUATO TASSO. 73 
 
 to decide -whether of the two, Paris or Venice, is the 
 most rich and prosperous. 8 
 
 On his return from Italy Tasso quitted the service of 
 the Cardinal d' Este. Some writers aver that the cardinal 
 was jealous of the favours heaped upon the poet by the 
 French king. But this is not proved ; we only know 
 that for some reason or other Tasso abandoned the court 
 of his former patron, and lived for a short time at Rome, 
 in a state of great poverty. The cardinal does not appear 
 to have been very liberal to the gentlemen of his court. 
 The goods which Tasso mentioned in his will, to be dis- 
 posed of after his death, were in pawn at the time, and 
 there is renson to fear that when he was in Paris he was 
 often in great destitution, though he steadily refused the 
 royal gifts repeatedly pressed upon him by Charles IX. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 FROM Rome Tasso was summoned by Alfonso II. d' Este, 
 the brother of his late patron, to the ducal court of 
 Ferrara. The duke, as we have already seen, desired, in 
 the first instance, to retain him as one of the gentlemen 
 of his court ; on the other hand, it had long been the 
 object of Tasso's ambition to be admitted into his service. 
 He had endeavoured to obtaiu his wish through the 
 influence of various powerful friends, and he attributed 
 his success to the influence of the Princess Lucrezia, now 
 Duchess of Urbino, and to her si&ter Leonora. 
 
 The gratitude whu;h he felt on this occasion alas, 
 how soon to be cancelled ! is recorded in his letter to his 
 friend Scipio Gonzaga : " He (that is, Alionso) took me 
 out of a state of misery and obscurity, and set me in the 
 light and splendour of his court. Raising me from 
 poverty, he placed me in a position of ease and comfort, 
 declaring me to be worthy of every distinction, inviting 
 me to sit at his table, and admitting me into the intimacy 
 of his piivate life. Nor was any favour that I asked of 
 him ever denied me." 9 
 
 8 " Oppre del Tasso," vol. is. ; Lettera al Conte Ercole de' Contrari. 
 
 9 Maffei, " Storia della Lett. Ital." vol. i. p. 300.
 
 74 STUDIES IN T ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Again, the passage in the " Aniinta " is meant as another 
 graceful acknowledgment of his gratitude. The " Uoiu 
 <!' aspetto magnanimo e robusto," who stood on the thres- 
 hold of the " felice albergo," and with " real cortesia " 
 invited Tirsi to enter, is doubtless intended for Alfonso, 
 while Tirsi, who cannot decide whether the title of " Duco 
 or Cavaliero " best befits his courteous host, is meant to 
 represent himself. " Ei grande e'n pregio, me negletto e 
 basso." l 
 
 But there is also another passage (act i. sc. 2) which 
 tells us a different tale, picturing the evils of a court life, 
 and the persecutions to which he was subject. 
 
 Tasso was admitted into the duke's household in 1573. 
 In 1579 the calamity overtook him which darkened the 
 rest of his life which precipitated him from the height 
 of happiness to the depth of misery, and has ever since 
 made him an object of the tenderest compassion. It is 
 by no means an easy task to trace the beginning of his 
 misfortunes. Many of his early biographers, in their 
 anxiety to shield the house of Este, give a purposely con- 
 fused account of their origin. But later accounts tear 
 away this flimsy veil, and reveal the treacherous cruelty 
 which lurks behind it. During the first three years his 
 life was peaceful and happy. He wrote his " Aminta," a 
 pastoral drama composed in two months' time, so perfect, 
 says Muratori, that it left no chance to posterity of ever 
 surpassing it. All the former Pastoiali the "Sacrifizio" 
 of Beccari, the *' Aretxisa " of Lollio, the ' Sfortunato" of 
 Argenti appeared as the roughest sketches of that 
 species of composition beside the polished beauties of the 
 " Aminta," which will always remain as a gem in the Italian 
 language for graceful elegance of diction and purity of 
 style. Parini considered that in it Tasso had succeeded 
 in engrafting the choicest specimens of Italian ideas and 
 language on the ancient beauties of the Grecian stock. 
 He is especially happy in his " cori," which are master- 
 pieces of vigoroxis style, and each individual specimen in 
 itself a perfect piece of poetry. Take for example the 
 one at the end of the second act, beginning 
 
 1 " Amintn," act i. scene 2.
 
 TOBQUATO TASSO. 75 
 
 " Amore, in quale scuola, 
 Da qual mastro s' apprende, 
 La tua si lunga e dubbia arte d' amare ? " 
 
 Yet Tasso himself never thought very highly of the 
 " eclogue," as he called the " Aminta," nor did he take 
 any steps to have it published. It was not printed until 
 after the control of his works had passed out of his hands 
 during his imprisonment. At that time (1580) it was 
 printed at the Aldine Press, with a preface by Aldo il 
 Giovane, in which he laments with much feeling the sad 
 condition of " II Signor Torquato." 2 
 
 The "Aminta" Avas represented with great splendour at 
 the court of Ferrara in 1573; again a few years later at 
 Mantua, when the artist and architect Buontalenti painted 
 the scenery, and the Duchess of Urbino summoned Tasso 
 to her court that she might hear the famous " Pastorale " 
 from the lips of the author. 
 
 Tasso made a happy sojourn there of a few months, 
 and during that time he wrote a sonnet (one of his most 
 finished productions), " isegli anni acerbi tuoi, purpurea 
 Rosa," to the duchess, now in her fortieth year. Lucrezia 
 rewarded his graceful compliments with a collar of gold 
 and a valuable ruby, presents which afterwards, in his 
 great poverty, he was obliged to barter for money. 
 
 Tasso's next care was to finish his great epic poem, 
 which was eagerly looked for throughout Italy. In his 
 anxiety to give to his country as perfect a production as 
 possible, he consulted all his friends upon various passages 
 of the poem, making journeys to Padua, Bologna, Rome, 
 Sienna, and Florence, omitting no opportunity of gaining 
 assistance in his task from all the learned men he knew. 
 Thus portions of the poem would pass from hand to hand, 
 till the printers somehow or other gained possession of them 
 and surreptitiously printed them, to the great annoyance 
 of Tasso, before the whole work was complete. In this 
 manner, now two cantos, now four at a time, appeared in 
 various cities of Italy, but even in this imperfect state 
 they were received with enthusiastic applause. 
 
 At length, in 1575, the first complete edition of the 
 poem was published, and throughout the literary "Acca- 
 
 2 Tasso, " Opere," vol. ii. p. 10.
 
 76 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATTUE. 
 
 domic " nnd circles of Italy nothing else was discussed, 
 while comparisons were immediately instituted between 
 the "Gerusalemme " of Tasso and the "Orlando Furioso" 
 of Ariosto. A greater mistake could hardly have been 
 made, for it is obvious that there is an essential difference 
 l>etween the two poems. Tiraboschi observes that you 
 might as well compare the "JEueid" of Virgil with Ovid's 
 "Metamorphoses;" but of this a few more words will be 
 snid at the end of the paper. It is only mentioned here 
 because it was the first cause of the fierce attacks of the 
 Accademia della Crusca, which so vexed and wounded the 
 sensitive spirit of Tasso, the first cloud which announced 
 the storm of trouble about to burst over his devoted head. 
 
 On his return to Ferrara in 1570 the duke appointed 
 him biographer of the house of Este, in place of his 
 former secretary Pigna, who from that time forward 
 became his bitter enemy, and stirred up the jealousy and 
 malice of the other courtiers to show itself in open perse- 
 cution. Tasso's letters were opened and intercepted, and 
 his papers stolen. 
 
 Notwithstanding their petty intrigues and jealousies, 
 they had not as yet succeeded in poisoning the duke's ear 
 against him, and he stood as high as ever in the favour of 
 the court. The princesses continued to show him every 
 mark of esteem. Leonora, in order to distract him from 
 these harassing vexations and troubles, invited him to 
 her villa at Consandoli, on the borders of the Po, about 
 eighteen miles from Ferrara. Soothed by her kindness, 
 and happy in her presence, he put the finishing touches 
 to the episode of Erminia, 3 one of the favourite passages 
 of his poem. He was never tired of polishing and re- 
 polishing this cherished work of his genius, and, far from 
 having sanctioned the edition published in 1575, he com- 
 plained bitterly that the poem had been fraudulently 
 snatched from his hands before it was complete, nnd per- 
 suaded the duke to write to the Pope, to the Republic of 
 Genoa, the Duke of Parma, and many other Italian princes, 
 to prohibit the publication of the poem without his sanction. 
 Up to this period he seems to have succeeded in concealing 
 
 8 "Gerusalemme Liberata," c. vii.
 
 TOEQUATO TASSO. 77 
 
 from every one his passion for Leonora, although, to those 
 who are now aware of his secret, the thought oi her seems 
 to pervade all his writings, and appears under some form 
 or another in all the varied productions of his poetical 
 genius. 4 
 
 But on his return from Consandoli, in an unguarded 
 moment he confided the first hint of his secret to one of 
 the courtiers Maddalo by name whom he trusted and 
 believed to be his friend. Maddalo proved himself instead 
 to be a traitor of the blackest dye. Tasso became aware 
 of his treachery a quarrel and a duel ensued. The 
 cowardly traitor brought his two brothers with him, and 
 all three set simultaneously upon Tasso. 
 
 But Tasso, not unlike one of the brave heroes of his 
 poem, proved himself more than a match for all his three 
 enemies, so that they fled before him, and the streets of 
 Ferrara resounded with the saying 
 
 " Colla penna e colla spada 
 Nessun val quauto Torquato." 
 
 (" Wield he the sword, or wield he the pen, 
 Torquato is greater than other men.") 
 
 This skirmish had unhappily the effect of increasing his 
 suspicions, and he sank into a state of melancholy from 
 which nothing could divert him. He mistrusted every- 
 body ; he even began to doubt himself. He thought himself 
 guilty of heresy he feared his faith was not so firm as it 
 ought to be that his philosophical speculations had ltd 
 him into error respecting the great truths of religion. Tor- 
 mented and perplexed, he volunteered to go twice before 
 the Inquisition at Bologna and Ferrara, and, although 
 somewhat reassured, he was not satisfied, because abso- 
 lution had not formally been administered to him. Then 
 another apprehension assailed him, lest his enemies should 
 take away his life either by poison or the sword. One of 
 the attendants aroused his suspicion to such an extent 
 that he forgot himself so far as to draw his dagger upon 
 him in the apartments of the Duchess of Urbino. For 
 this action the duke caused him to be arrested, but more 
 
 4 The whole question has been ably treated by Professor Rosini in 
 an essa^ upou the " Ainore " del Tasso, " Opere dei Tasso," vol. xxxiii.
 
 78 STUDIES IN ITALFAN LITEKATUKE. 
 
 out of regard to his own safety than in punishment for 
 the offence. 
 
 Up to this time the duke seems to have had patience 
 with eccentricities and suspicions which might have 
 aroused harsher feelings, for he soon set Tasso at liberty, 
 and invited him to his villa at Belriguardo. It is here 
 that Goethe lays the scene of his drama of " Tasso." But 
 here, whether weary of the poet's importunities, or whether 
 his malicious enemies first awakened in the duke's mind a 
 suspicion of Tasso's passion for the princess, is not known; 
 but Alfonso, as the only way of disposing of the unheard- 
 of presumption that a gentleman of his court should dare 
 to raise his eyes to one of the princesses of the house of 
 Este, caused it to be intimated to Tasso that he should 
 feign himself mud. 
 
 It was, indeed, no wonder that Tasso left Ferrara in 
 indignation, recording the insult in the never-to-be-for- 
 gotten lines 
 
 "Tor mi potevi, alto Signer, la vita, 
 
 Che de' Sovrani e 1* usurpato diritto, 
 
 Ma torini quel, che la bouta. iutinita 
 
 Si-inn i mi die-, pen-lie d' amore ho scritto 
 
 (I)' amore, acui natura e il ciel in' invitu), 
 
 delitto maggior d' ogni delitto. 
 
 Peidon chiedei, tu mel nt-tra-ti : addio: 
 
 Mi peuto ognor del pentiuieuto mio." 
 
 He fled away poor, footsore, wayworn, to his sister at 
 Sorrento, to whom he tiret showed himself in the disguise 
 of a shepherd, and, to try her affections, told her that her 
 brother was far-off in peril of his life. When reassured, 
 by her unfeigned grief, of her affection, he told her the 
 truth, and she affectionately received him, striving by 
 every means in her power to soothe his troubled mind. 
 
 While at Sorrento, Manso tells us that he received a 
 twice-repeated summons back to Ferrara from " Madama 
 Leonora." But it appears from Tasso's own letter to tho 
 Duca d' Urbino that the duke never invited him to return. 
 Happier far would it have been for Tasso had he resisted 
 the invitation ; for although on his arrival at Ferrara he 
 was received at court, Alfonso had not forgiven him. The 
 poet's enemies continued to pour their malicious tales into 
 his patron's ear. Tasso was never allowed a personal
 
 TORQUATO TASSO. 79 
 
 interview with the duke, and very soon the princesses 
 were forbidden to receive him. 
 
 Again he fled from Ferrara to Mantua, to Urbino, to 
 Torino, where, under the nameof " Omero Fuggiguerra," he 
 arrived in such a sad plight, that the keepers of the gates 
 of the city would not have admitted him had not Ingegneri, 
 the Venetian printer, who had printed sixteen cantos of 
 the " Gerusalemme," recognized him, and announced who 
 he was. 
 
 In vain did the Marchese Filippo d' Este and the Prince 
 
 , Carlo Immanuele implore him to stay at their court. His 
 
 unlucky steps took him back to Ferrara for the third time. 
 
 He arrived there in February, 1579, just before the entry 
 
 of the duke's third bride. 
 
 He presented himself at the threshold of the palace. 
 The duke, intent on the wedding preparations, would not 
 receive him ; the princesses were not allowed to do so ; 
 the courtiers jeered at him. Tasso's bruised and wounded 
 spirit could endure no more insults. He broke out into 
 tierce invectives against the duke and the whole house of 
 Este, retracted his praises, cursed his past life, abused the 
 vile race of courtiers. Alas ! there were too many evil 
 tongues ready to carry these reproaches to the ear of the 
 duke, and Tasso was shut up as insane in the hospital of 
 Sant' Anna in Ferrara. 
 
 It is not the intention of this essay to dwell on the 
 piteous spectacle presented by Tasso in the asylum of 
 Sant' Anna, nor to recall the painful circumstances con- 
 nected with it details of physical and mental anguish so 
 terrible that the pen of his contemporary historians 
 refused to nil them in, and left the passages blank. More- 
 over, a subject so pathetic has naturally furnished a theme 
 for great writers in poetry and prose. 
 
 Byron caused himself to be locked for an hour in the 
 poet's cell, whose narrow limits contained 
 
 " Scarce twice the space they must accord my bier," 
 
 before he wrote the poem which records his sufferings. 5 
 
 Shelley brought away with him a piece of the very door 
 " which, for seven years and three months, divided this 
 
 5 " Lament of Tasso." Byron's Works, vol. iii. p. 113.
 
 80 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATUBE. 
 
 glorious being from the air and the light which had 
 nourished in him those influences which he has commu- 
 nicated through his poetry to thousands." Montaigne 
 visited him, and writes compassionately of his " piteux 
 estat." And two modern poets, 6 his countrymen, once 
 more relate to free Italian ears the story of a prince's 
 tyranny and a poet's fame. 
 
 Whatever may be the surmise as to the motive which 
 prompted the iniquitous conduct of the duke, the real 
 reason has remained wrapped in that impenetrable mystery 
 with which it pleased the Italian princes to shroud their 
 crimes. It is hardly necessary to remind the reader that 
 records of similar cruelties stain the history of almost every 
 State and Republic of Italy. The rippling waves of the 
 Venetian lagune yet hide the witness of many a deed of 
 darkness, and the treacherous instruments still preserved 
 in the arsenal remain as tangible proofs that no law of 
 friendship, chivalry, or honour, was allowed to stand 
 between a tyrant and the object of his revenge. 
 
 It suited the purposes of Alfonso that Tasso should be 
 considered a madman, therefore he was imprisoned in the 
 foul precincts of Sant' Anna. The biographers of the 
 house of Este use every endeavour to prove that the poet 
 was really out of his senses, in order to excuse the conduct 
 of the duke. Admitting, for the sake of argument, this 
 to be true, would it justify him in condemning the great 
 genius of the age to languish among the common herd of 
 lunatics, stunned by their perpetual meaningless clamour, 
 shocked by the sight of their sutrerings, placed, in short, 
 in circumstances revolting to every one of his refined and 
 delicate senses? Had his affliction been of the nature 
 which the duke pretended it to be, he should have been 
 treated with every mark of consideration and respect, and 
 not exposed to treatment which, far from curing it, was 
 calculated to aggravate it in the highest degree. But such 
 was not the case. Indeed, the perfect sanity of the poet's 
 mind only added to the horror of his situation, enabling 
 him to sound with fearful accuracy the depths of the abyss 
 into which he had fallen. What higher proof of his 
 
 4 Biccardo Ceroni, and A'enrdo Aleardi.
 
 TOBQUATO TASSO. 81 
 
 sanity could be urged than that it withstood shocks 
 sufficient to shake the reason of most men from its seat. 
 
 Let any one read his Dialoghi 7 treatises composed 
 during his imprisonment models of calm, dispassionate 
 reasoning, or his poetry, full of the deepest and ten- 
 derest pathos, and then judge if Tasso's reason was not 
 entirely within his control. Would they not rather 
 wonder that, in the midst of the fearful circumstances in 
 which be found himself, he was able to retain a poet's 
 keen imagination, a philosopher's serenity of thought ? 
 
 The original of one of his treatises (" II Malpiglio 
 Secondo ") written throughout in his own hand, is still to 
 be seen in the British Museum, 8 and as we reverently turn 
 its yellow parchment pages, what a train of compassionate 
 recollections do they awake ! Copies can also be seen in 
 the same place of his letters to the Duke of Urbino, im- 
 ploring him to procure his release from captivity. 
 
 But we must pass over the recital of his numerous 
 entreaties, addressed either directly or indirectly to his inex- 
 orable tyrant ; the palpable contradiction presented by his 
 being called upon to write from a lunatic asylum the defence 
 of his poem against the attacks of the Accademia della 
 Crusca "a handful," says Monti, of "insolent sophists, 
 who, like a pack of yelping curs round a sick lion, have 
 made it th^ir business to insult the great genius of the 
 age ;" 9 and the alternations of hope and fear which must 
 have often made his heart sick, to notice the effect 
 produced by his sufferings upon his character. 
 
 Despite the cruel nature of his imprisonment, no abuse 
 of his tormentor ever passed his lips, nor did he ever turn 
 against him the weapon he had once used in his cause ; 
 for it should always be remembered that the words, " Tu 
 Magnanimo Alfonso," still stand/ unerased from the first 
 page of the " Gerusalemme Liberata." 
 
 No dark thought of putting an end to his almost 
 unendurable misery by suicide seems ever to have pre- 
 
 " 1. II Messagrffiero. 2. II Gonzaga. 3. 11 Padre di Famiglia. 
 4. II Malpiglio Secondo, &c., vols. vii. viii. " Opere del Tasso." 
 
 8 Manuscripts. Additions to the department of MSS. in the 
 British Museum, 18411845, folio 12,045, p. 29. 
 
 9 Maffei, " Storia della Lett. Ital." vol. i. p. 31. 
 
 G
 
 82 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 sented itself to his mind. The following passage in the 
 " Torrismondo " gives us a clue to his thoughts on this 
 awful subject. In it he blames him who 
 
 " Against himself 
 
 Would nrm his impious and reckless hand, 
 Scare from its siicred tenement the soul 
 Which o'er the body keeps a holy ward, 
 Placed there by GOD, yielding alone to Him 
 The trust He gave. Who, when the task is o'er, 
 Will call it back to heaven whence it came." l 
 
 He held fast to those earnest religious convictions which 
 had early sunk deep into his mind, and now in the midst 
 of the wreck of his hopes he fixed his thoughts steadfastly 
 upon GOD, " Who," he says, in one of his letters, written 
 from Sant' Anna, "never abandons those that firmly 
 believe in Him." And nothing ever shook this trust, not 
 even when in the lonely hours of the night, worn with 
 illness, and unable to rest, his fevered fancy would people 
 his cell with strange forms and phantoms tempting him 
 to despair. 
 
 But the years of patient endurance were not to remain 
 unrewarded ; the pale, haggard face was not always to 
 gaze piteously through the iron bars of his prison, for 
 the long-desired release came at last. We must again 
 have recourse to surmise to account for the motive which 
 suddenly induced Alfonso to set his victim free. 
 
 During the confinement of Tasso in the asylum, Leo- 
 nora d' Este died, in the forty -fifth year of her age. Up 
 to this period Alfonso gave no hope of ever releasing 
 Tasso from imprisonment, but after that time he was 
 gradually brought to relent. First a change of apart- 
 ment was provided for the unfortunate poet. Later he 
 was allowed to pay a vi-it to the Duchess Marfisa d' Este, 
 who was so enraptured with his poem that she implored her 
 cousin (Alfonso) as a personal favour to allow her to invite 
 
 1 ' Torrismondo," act i. scene 2. So Spenser (who died one year 
 after Tasso) writes : 
 
 " The term of life is limited, 
 Ne may a man prolong nor shorten it ; 
 The souldier may not move from watchful sted, 
 Nor leave his staud until his Captain bed." 
 
 Faery Qnetne, Book I. c. ix.
 
 TOBQUATO TASSO. 83 
 
 the author to her villa at Maddaler for one day. This was 
 granted, provided that he was conveyed there and back to 
 Sant' Anna in a close carriage. After this, by degrees, the 
 rigour of his imprisonment was relaxed ; and at length, 
 but not till he was so ill that it was hardly possible for 
 him to recover, in compliance with the supplications of 
 the whole city of Bergamo, the united prayers of Vincenzo 
 Gonzaga, Cesare d' Este and Virginia de' Medici, whose 
 marriage was about to be solemnized, on the 5th of July, 
 1586, Tasso was set free. 
 
 Free once more to breathe the pure air of heaven, 
 to drink in those beauties of nature which he has so 
 eloquently described, to listen to the song of the birds, 
 to enjoy the sweet smell of the flowers and all the summer 
 glory of his enchanting country to him these must in 
 truth have seemed " an opening paradise." 
 
 Before closing this painful chapter of his life, we must 
 call attention to one of the worst traits in Alfonso's 
 character his refusal to allow Tasso to kiss his hand 
 before leaving Ferrara a last favour which, in token of 
 his free forgiveness, the injured poet asked of his former 
 patron. 
 
 Tasso lived nine years after his release from captivity. 
 At first he was courteously entertained in the palace of 
 the Duke of Mantua, the father of his deliverer, Vincenzo 
 Gonzaga. "I am in Mantua," he writes to his friend 
 Licino, " the guest of his Excellency the duke. I have 
 been allowed to choose my own attendants out of his 
 household. I am treated with delerence and courtesy. 
 I have good food, delicious fruit, excellent bread, and 
 choice wines like those my father used to delight in." '" 
 
 This state of ease and tranquillity was unhappily of short 
 duration. Duke Guglielmo of Mantua died. Vincenzo, 
 his son, was too much taken up with the cares of his new 
 dignity to bestow much thought or care upon Tasso, who 
 again set out on his wanderings. The poverty and mis- 
 fortune which had clung to him all his life still attended 
 him ; and it is sad to see him roaming restlessly fioni 
 city to city, from place to place he, the author of the 
 
 2 Manso, "Vita di Tasso," p. 187. 
 G 2
 
 84 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEUATUKE. 
 
 great poem of the age, forced to implore the loan of ton 
 scutli to pay his expenses to Rome. 
 
 At first also he was tormented by fears lest Alfonso 
 should even now drag him back to the cell whence he had 
 escaped with such difficulty. A modern poet 3 describes 
 his situation in very pathetic language, which can hardly 
 be done justice to in a transfation : 
 
 " O'er fields and plains he roams, 
 Pale, soiled, a mendicant from door to door, 
 His mind distraught with anguish. Can this be 
 The gentle poet knight ? Ever behind, 
 Nearer and nearer still, there seems to come 
 Fast in pursuit the gallop of a horse ; 
 Perchance some officer to drag him back 
 To foul Sant' Anna's narrow prison walls ! 
 Were there in azuth around forms with weird hands 
 Outstretched to snatch from him his cherished lays, 
 The polished work, the ceaseless toil of years, 
 And cast them to the winds ? Strewing the sheets 
 Along the way-worn track, or on the banks 
 Which line the desert way ! He almost doubts 
 In sheer perplexity his very self. 
 Was his poetic genius but a dream, 
 A futile fancy his immortal work ? 
 Tancred, Clorinda, all the noble forma 
 And bright creations of his poet's muse, 
 But vain imaginations ? " 
 
 Half tempted by the offer of the Ethical and Poetical 
 Chair of the Academy " Degli Addormentati," at Genoa, 
 he felt obliged to decline it because of the impaired 
 powers of his memory ; and once again he returned to 
 Mantua, to dedicate his recently-finished tragedy of 
 " Torriemondo " to the new duke. A long course of 
 insult and injury had rendered the unhappy poet sensi- 
 tive to an almost morbid degree. Dissatisfied with his 
 reception, fancying that his new dignity had changed the 
 countenance of his former friend towards him, he left 
 Mantua for Rome, with the especial intention of making 
 a pilgrimage to Loretto. Footsore, poverty-stricken, and 
 well-nigh exhausted, he accomplished his vow, and then 
 pushed un towards Rome. But fresh disappointment 
 awaited him there. He bad neither strength nor spirit 
 left to struggle and strive among the crowd of place- 
 
 * Aleardo Aleardi, p. 113.
 
 TOKQUATO TASSO. 85 
 
 seekers in the court of the Papal palace to obtain the 
 reward which ought freely to have been bestowed upon 
 the greatest poet of the day. 
 
 Again he turned away and fled to Naples, cherishing, as 
 a last hope, the thought of recovering his forfeited paternal 
 inheritance. In this, as in every other matter connected 
 with worldly prosperity, he was unsuccessful. Never- 
 theless, in that peaceful and beautiful sojourn his mind 
 was able to rest content. The soft, delicious climate was 
 like balm to his shattered health ; his eye rested with 
 pleasure upon the bay which has no rival in Europe, the 
 deep blue of the glorious sea, the stately buildings, the 
 fresh fountains, the abundance of fruits, and the ever- 
 blowing flowers ; and his interest was daily awakened by 
 the scene of animation before him in the concourse of 
 strangers from all parts of the world, the splendour of 
 their equipages, and aJl the gay throng of chivalry which 
 had had such charms for him in former days. 
 
 In order to escape from the courteous invitations which 
 were showered upon him, he retired for a short time to the 
 quiet monastery of Monte Oliveto. Many went thither to 
 pay their respects to him ; among others Manso, Marchese 
 della Villa, his great friend, and the writer of the bio- 
 graphy often quoted in this paper. "We next hear of Tasso 
 paying a visit to Bisaccio, the villa of the Marchese ; and 
 we read with pleasure the report of Manso, that " II Tasso 
 is now become so keen a huntsman, that he despises all 
 inclemencies of weather. In the evening we spend many 
 pleasant hours listening to music and singing. He especi- 
 ally delights in the improwisatori, admiring their readi- 
 ness in versification, in which he always considered 
 himself to be deficient." * 
 
 But again his love of wandering carried him back to 
 Home, to be again received with coldness by his former 
 friend, Scipio Gonzaga, and to throw himself once more 
 upon the hospitality of the monks of Monte Oliveto, 
 whence also he fled away, and was afterwards discovered 
 in circumstances of the greatest poverty in the hospital of 
 the Bergamaschi. However, his troubled life was not 
 destined to endure much longer 
 
 4 Maffei, " Storia della Lett. Ital." vol. i. p. 316.
 
 86 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune." 
 He had patiently borne each and all of the 
 
 " whips and scorns of time, 
 
 The oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely, 
 The pangs of despised love, the law's delay, 
 The insolence of office, and the spurns 
 That patient merit of the unworthy takes." 
 
 But a tardy justice was at last to be paid to his genius ; 
 and like a flame for a brief instant before it expires was 
 the earthly glory of the unfortunate Tasso. The Duke of 
 Mantua pressed him to return to his court. The Grand 
 Duke of Tuscany invited him to Florence, and there all 
 the academies and the literary world, with the exception i-f 
 the envious Cruscans, poured out to welcome him and do 
 him honour. In Rome, through the good offices of Cinzio 
 Aldobrandini, the nephew of Pope Clement VIII., he 
 was given an apartment in the Vatican, with an annual 
 income of 200 scudi. Here he completed the *' Gerusa- 
 leninie Couquistata," an unfortunate result produced by 
 the harsh criticisms showered upon the "Gerusalemme 
 Liberata." Lastly, the wreath of poet's laurel which had 
 crowned Petrarch was now destined to adorn Tasso's 
 head. 
 
 It is a fact worthy of note that in both cases this dis- 
 tinction was obtained by an inferior production of either 
 poet : the " Scipio Africanus " of Petrarch, and the 
 " Gerusalemme Conquistata" of Tasso. And this coveted 
 honour, which Tasso had deservedly won in the iirst 
 flower of his youth, now came too late. The ceremony 
 was delayed that it might be performed with more 
 solemnity ; and his health, long undermined by disease, 
 hardships, and sorrow, at length gave way. His wan- 
 derings were over for ever when his weary steps halted 
 at last at the threshold of the quiet monastery of San 
 Onofrio, on the summit of the Janiculum. " I come," 
 he said to the monks, who received him with pitying 
 glances, " to die among you." Here he spent the last 
 weeks of his life sitting under the shade of the oak, whose 
 boughs stretched out over the garden, looking on the 
 beautiful prospect before him of the ancient capital of 
 the world. Surely those mighty ruins, on whose dim
 
 TOBQUATO TASSO. 87 
 
 outlines his thoughtful gaze loved to rest, must have 
 added one more example to the long, stern lesson of his 
 life as to the vanity of human greatness, the futility of 
 earthly desires. 
 
 But further teaching was scarcely needed now. His 
 spirit, long ago chastened by suffering, and firmly fixed 
 on another and brighter world, was only waiting the last 
 summons to flee away and be at rest. It was not long 
 delayed. On the 10th of April, 1595, he was told by 
 the Papal physician, sent on purpose to attend him, that 
 there was but little hope of his recovery, and from that 
 day till the 25th, when he died, he turned his thoughts 
 heavenward. 
 
 There is a touching simplicity in the contemporary 
 narrative of the last days of his life. " Father," be said 
 to his confessor, who was attending him, " write, that I 
 give my spirit back to God who gave it, my body to 
 the earth whence it was taken, to be laid in this church 
 of San Onofrio. My goods I leave to the Lord Cardinal 
 Cinzio, and I pray him to restore to II Signor Giambattista 
 Manso the little portrait of me painted by his wish, and 
 only lent to me for life. To this monastery I bequeath 
 this Sacred Image of our dear Lord," and, as he spoke, 
 he clasped the crucifix of singularly beautiful workman- 
 ship which hung beside his bed. A few days afterwards 
 he received the last sacraments of the Church, and died 
 peacefully with the unfinished ejaculation on his lips, 
 " Into Thy hands, O Lord ." 
 
 That same evening his body, according to his wish, 
 found a last resting-place in the church of San Onofrio. 
 
 The simple inscription " Hie jacet Torquatus Tassus," 
 graven in the stone, still marks the place of his 
 repose, 
 
 " Aud nought remains to mark thy last abode 
 But the bright waters of a sparkling well, 
 A simple stone, and the eternal smile 
 Of the Campagna. Suffer us once more 
 To wake thy golden lyre, that we may touch 
 With trembling hand the chord which tells thy fame." 5 
 
 5 Aleardo Aleardi, p. 115.
 
 88 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 from the time when, at seventeen, it produced the 
 " Kinaldo " up to the very last days of his life, and that 
 he died in his fifty-first year, we cannot wonder that 
 twenty-five volumes remain to us of his writings. It 
 would not only be presumptious, but impossible, to 
 attempt to do more than attempt to give a passing 
 notice of them in these pages. 
 
 His prose compositions may be divided into " Dialoghi," 
 " Discorsi," and "Lettere." His " Discorei," (jinguene 6 
 tells us, especially the one which relates to heroic poetry, 
 prove how much he had meditated on the poetics of 
 Aristotle; the "Dialoghi" how deeply he had studied 
 Plato. Any one of these Dialoghi, the " Messaggiero," 
 for instance, is well worth reading as a sample of the 
 clear reasoning and pellucid style which characterize his 
 prose as well as his poetic writings. Of these last the 
 " Kinaldo " and " Aminta " have already been mentioned ; 
 of the '* Torrismondo," begun before and finished after 
 his imprisonment, Tasso himself had not a high opinion. 
 The dialogue is reckoned dull and heavy, but the " cori," 
 like those in the " Aminta," are full of fire and spirit, 
 and the concluding one pictures forth his recent suf- 
 ferings with great pathos. The whole manuscript, in 
 his own handwriting and the original vellum binding 
 has been recently added to the collection in the British 
 Museum. 7 
 
 The poem on the Creation (" II Mondo Creato ") was 
 the last work of Tasso's life, but only the two first books 
 were ever h'nished, the five last being merely sketched 
 out. In the completed portions there are some fine 
 passages the creation of light on the first day, 8 that of 
 the firmament on the second day, and a remarkable 
 protest against the presumptuous folly of astrologers and 
 
 Vol. v. p. 30. 
 
 * Catalogue of Additional Manuscripts, 1860. Add. 23778. This 
 autograph manuscript of Tasso, filled with numerous alterations and 
 correction? , was given by Licino (the friend who announced to Tasso 
 his release from Sant' Anna) to Abbioso the poet (1588) ; it sub- 
 Bequently fell into the hands of the Minorite Otttiviano Cameriani of 
 Ravenna, and was presented by him to Cardinal Cybo (1650), whose 
 arms it still bears on the cover. 
 
 * "Mondo Creato," p. 19.
 
 TORQUATO TASSO. 89 
 
 star-gazers. Milton is supposed to have borrowed many 
 of his ideas for " Paradise Lost " from this poem. 
 
 But all these minor works sink into comparative in- 
 significance beside the great production of his genius, 
 the " Gerusalemme Liberata ; " and here again the dis- 
 cussions and controversies which occupied for years the 
 attention of the literary Italian world can scarcely be 
 reduced into a few paragraphs. 
 
 It is necessary, however, to point out as briefly as 
 possible the cause which first raised the storm of 
 criticism. 
 
 When the " Gerusalemme " first appeared, the poem 
 of Ariosto was at the zenith of its fame, and it was 
 imitated with servility by all the inferior poets. But the 
 genius of Tasso early taught him that, if he was to rival 
 Ariosto, it could not be by following in his steps, that 
 he could not surpass the " Orlando Furioso " as an 
 achievement of romantic poetry. An epic poem, how- 
 ever, like those of Homer and Virgil, had as yet been 
 untried by an Italian poet, and this was the path which 
 Tasso resolved to follow in pursuit of fame. This 
 appears in his reply to the letter full of eulogy addressed 
 to him by Orazio Ariosto, the nephew of Ariosto : "The 
 crown you would honour me with," writes Tasso, " already 
 adorns the head of the poet to whom you are related, 
 from whence it would be as easy to snatch it as to wrest 
 the club from the hand of Hercules. I would no more 
 receive it from your hand than 1 would snatch it myself. 
 I honour him (Ariosto) ; I pay him every mark of 
 respect. I publicly declare him to be my father in the 
 art of poetry, my master, my prince," &c. 
 
 But despite these protestations, despite the pains Tasso 
 had taken to follow a completely different route from 
 Ariosto, his enemies would insist upon accusing Tasso 
 of the presumption of contending with Ariosto ; and the 
 ill-advised but well-meant treatise of Camillo Pellegrino 9 
 only confirmed them in this idea. 
 
 We will not attempt to deal with the pedantic criti- 
 cisms and wholesale vituperations by which the recently 
 
 9 " Opere di Tasso," vol. xviii. 20.
 
 90 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 founded " Accademia della Crusca " l hoped to attain 
 an early celebrity. To these Tasso replied with calm 
 dignity, 
 
 " With a glory round his furrow'd brow, 
 Which emHiiated then, and duzzles now, 
 In face of ull his foes, the Cruscan quire, 
 And Boileau, whose rash envy could allow 
 No strain which shamed his country's creaking lyre, 
 That whetstone of the teeth monotony in wire." * 
 
 It is a more pleasing task to quote the opinion of Metas- 
 tasio. " If Apollo," he says, "were to take a fancy to 
 endow me with a great poetical genius, and commanded 
 me to declare which of these great poems (' Orlando 
 Furioso ' and ' Gerusalemme Liberata ') I should wish 
 the production of my genius to resemble, 1 should 
 certainly make my choice with great hesitation, but I 
 think my natural inclination to order, exactitude, and 
 method would decide me in favour of the ' Gerusalemme.' " 
 " Thus he writes," says Tiraboschi, whose comment on 
 this opinion is still more interesting, " with the modesty 
 of a really great man ; but I should reply with more 
 courage to Apollo, and my answer would be different. 
 Were he to ask me to write an epic poem, I should beg 
 him to make me resemble Tasso ; were I to undertake a 
 romantic poem, I should desire to imitate Ariosto ; but if 
 I were to choose which of these poets 1 should most wish 
 to resemble in their natural gift for poetry, I should first 
 of all beg Tasso 's pardon, but I should pray Apollo to 
 bestow on me the natural gift of Ariosto." 3 
 
 It is certainly a truth not to be denied, that Tasso was 
 apt to overlay with too refined and artiticial ornament 
 scenes of natural pathos which would have been more 
 vigorously painted by the bolder hand of Ariosto. But 
 this trivial failing does not justify the harsh opinion 
 expressed in the spiteful lines of Boileau : 
 
 " Tous lea jours & la cour un sot de qualite 
 Peut juger de travers avec impunite, 
 A Malherbe, a. Hacan, prefdrer Theophile, 
 Et le clinquant du Tasse a tout 1'or de Virgile" 
 
 1 1583. 
 
 2 "Childe Harold," cnnto IV. xxxriii. 
 Tir. vii. 1267, 1268.
 
 TOBQUATO TASSO. 91 
 
 which, eagerly caught up and repeated, have done more 
 than any other criticism to damage Tasso's reputation as 
 a poet. Giuguene tries to explain away the lines. Boi- 
 leau, he says, never meant to imply that because Tasso's 
 poetry contained some alloy it was not also full of 
 precious metal. He only hlamed those who prefer the 
 artificial portions of " Gerusalemme " to all the solid gold 
 of Virgil, and, afterwards, in another passage of his " Art 
 Poetique," the French satirist considerably modified his 
 opinion of Tasso. It may be doubted, by the way, 
 whether he was aware that Tasso's happiest imitation, the 
 famous verse on the sick child, was taken from Lucretius. 
 Unhappily, Boileau's partial recantation is forgotten, while 
 the former lines are remembered ; and it is difficult not to 
 think, with Byron, that these were inspired by an envious 
 motive. 
 
 Let us now turn from refuting the criticisms of the 
 "Gerusalemme Liberata," to point out some of the great 
 intrinsic merits of the poem. In the choice of his subject 
 Tasso was especially fortunate. At all times calculated to 
 enlist the earnest sympathy of the Christian reader the 
 circumstances of the age give it a still more marked and 
 definite interest. The peaceful condition of Europe had 
 lelt the Christian States free to turn their arms against 
 the Turks, and it seemed probable that they would 
 shortly be compelled to render their "grande ingiusta 
 preda," 4 for just at the moment when Tasso, in his 
 twenty-seventh year, was still engaged on his poem, the 
 Christian forces had won the famous victory of Le- 
 panto (1571). This war against the Turks naturally 
 diverted the stream of European thought back into the 
 old channel of the Crusades, and many warriors enter- 
 tained the hope that another crusade would shortly be 
 organized. 
 
 The oration pronounced in honour of Tasso before the 
 Academy at Ferrara, the year after his death (1596), con- 
 cludes with a passionate entreaty to all the princes of 
 Europe to avenge the depredations of the Turks, and not 
 to cease from, warfare till, like new Godfreys, they had 
 
 4 "Gerusalemme Liberata," c. i. 5.
 
 92 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATUKE. 
 
 hung up their victorious arms as trophies before the Holy 
 Sepulchre. 
 
 In the military plan and operations of his poem, Tasso 
 is considered unrivalled by any other poet, and this 
 success is considered, in some measure, to be due to the 
 instructions of Alfonso. During the happier days of 
 his court favour at Ferrara, Tasso would consult the duke, 
 who piqued himself on his generalship, as to the march of 
 the troops, their plan of attack, the positions of vantage, 
 the method of conducting the siege, and all the military 
 features of the enterprise. 
 
 Again, Godfrey de Bouillon is a model general, 
 while he is also an example of calm, faultless virtue. 
 The other knights, Tancred and Rinaldo, despite their 
 courage and chivalry, are not so attractive as heroes as 
 the bright, captivating Clorinda, or the modest, gentle 
 Erminia as heroines. Each of the detached episodes in 
 which they appear is in itself a perfect picture, while they 
 do not hinder the unity of purpose which gives such a 
 distinct coherence to the action of the poem, causing it to 
 march in an undeviating course to its conclusion. 
 
 These are some of the main features of the " Gerusa- 
 lemme," but every Italian scholar will rather turn to the 
 poem itself, and recall some of the favourite passages which 
 it contains the grand opening stanzas, the soul-stirring 
 description of the Crusaders' tirst sight of Jerusalem, the 
 pathetic beauty of Dudone's death, the flight of Erminia, 
 Tancred, and Clorinda, their battle and her death, which 
 can hardly be read with dry eyes. In the description of 
 nature, Tasso is peculiarly happy, whether he describes the 
 gradual coming on of night with her " stellato velo" (vi. 
 103), or the sea with her "cerulei campi spumanti" 
 (xvi. 4), or the cool waters of a spring which " mormo- 
 rando sen va gelida e bruna " (xv. 56), or when he seizes 
 upon the slightest circumstance, such as the varied hue of 
 the feathers, 
 
 " Che di gentile 
 Amorosa colomba il collo cinge " (xv. 5), 
 
 and interweaves it as a bright ornament in his chain of 
 description, or, as a last example, when he rises to the 
 sublime in his account of the ruins of Carthage (xv. 20).
 
 TOKQUATO TASSO. 93 
 
 It was, in truth, no wonder that the polished stanzas 
 found a responsive chord in every Italian heart from the 
 first moment of their publication. The princes .caused 
 them to be read aloud in their courts, the priests mur- 
 mured them in the shade of the cloisture, the people 
 loved them, the gondolier would recite them in soft 
 melancholy cadence as he steered himself through the 
 water-streets of Venice or launched out towards the Lido ; 
 the brigand of the Abruzzi, with their sound still in his 
 ears, would not hurt a hair of the poet's head when he 
 journeyed alone and unfriended towards Rome ; even the 
 galley-slaves of Livorno, as, chained together, they dragged 
 their weary steps along the shore, would chant fragments 
 of the Crusader's Litany in the " Gerusalemme Libe- 
 rata." 
 
 In the space of six months after its first publication it 
 was reprinted seven times six times in Italy and once in 
 France, 5 and two thousand copies of Ingegneri's edition 
 were sold in two days. 
 
 As the " llinaldo " marked the dawn of Tasso's poetical 
 genius, and the " Gerusalemme Liberata " its meridian 
 splendour, so the " Gerusalemme Conquistata " may be 
 considered as its sunset. The expiring rays still shine on 
 such passages as the " Dream of Godfrey " (c. x.), or the 
 attack on Jerusalem ; but whereas the " Gerusalemme 
 Liberata " will be considered one of the classics of Italy 
 so long as her language remains, the " Conquistata," pared 
 and tamed down in deference to the opinion of his merci- 
 less critics, and filled with elaborate allegories, is scarcely 
 if at all read, and then only to compare with its predeces- 
 sor, and lament over the omission of the finest passages of 
 the first poem. 
 
 Space forbids the mention of his numerous Canzone 
 and Madrigali in every varied form of poetical beauty ; 
 but however brief and imperfect this notice may have 
 been, enough has perhaps been said to prove that his 
 works were indeed the faithful mirror of his mind and 
 character. 
 
 In his philosophical essays and it should be remem- 
 
 5 Milinan's "Life of TasiO,"' vol. ii. p. 29.
 
 94 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 bered in what fearful circumstances many of these were 
 writtert we notice a calm, patient reasoning, a well- 
 balanced order of thought, unmoved by passion, unshaken 
 by misfortune. Xor can we render full justice to this 
 gravity and sobriety of mind till we have learnt from his 
 enthusiastic poetry that, far from being cold and reserved, 
 his nature was sensitive and passionate in the highest 
 degree, his tender love of everything that was beautiful or 
 noble speaking in every line of every poem, and awaken- 
 ing a kindred feeling in the heart of his reader. 
 
 Of gentle birth, he was also a gentleman in the truest 
 sense of the word. Courage, chivalry, loyalty, were 
 among the brightest ornaments of his character, and to 
 these may be added that essentially Christian virtue, for- 
 giveness of injuries. How perfectly he fulfilled this last 
 duty let each who reads his life judge for himself. 
 
 Lastly, the " Gerusalemrne Liberata " gives us the true 
 clue to that deep piety which sustained him throughout 
 his troubled, storm-tossed life, and guided him safely into 
 the haven of pc;ace and rest. It is true that the earthly 
 crown of glory slipped from his dying grasp, but we cannot 
 grieve on this account when we remember the words which 
 he puts in the mouth of his favourite hero, and which are 
 now so applicable to himself 
 
 " Gia non si deve a te doglia no pianto; 
 Che, tie niori nel mondo, in ciel rinasci ; 
 E 'pii. dove ti spogli il mortal manto, 
 I)i gloria impress alte vestigia lasci. 
 Vivesti qual guerrier cristiuno e santo. 
 E come tal sei morto : or godi, e pasci 
 In Dio gli ncclii bramosi, o felice alma, 
 Ed Lai del ben oprar corona e palma." 
 
 Oervsalemme Liberata, canto iii. 68. 
 
 " We need not mourn for thee, here laid to rest ; 
 Earth is thy bed, and not thy grave ; the skies 
 Are fur thy soul the crudle and the nest ; 
 There live, for here thy glory never dies; 
 For like a Christian knight and champion blest, 
 Thou didst both live and die ; new feed thine eyes 
 With thy Redeemer's sight, where, crown'd with bliss, 
 Thy t'uitii, zeal, merit, well-deserving is." 
 
 Fairfax's translation.
 
 95 
 
 THE PRIXCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 
 PART I. 
 
 THE rivalries and jealousies of the Italian States, their 
 struggles for liberty, and their individual feuds, have 
 been a common theme with historians of the Middle 
 Ages. 
 
 But however deplorable may have been the effect of 
 such a continual state of civil war upon the general wel- 
 fare of the country, it has not been altogether barren of 
 good results. 
 
 The rulers of the various Italian States were indeed 
 always striving to outshine each other in the splendour 
 and magnificence of their courts, but they cherished at 
 the same time a far nobler emulation. They soon per- 
 ceived that genius of any kind was the brightest orna- 
 ment which they could obtain for their respective courts, 
 and that, by the protection which they vied with one 
 another in affording to literature and art, they secured 
 celebrity at the time, and a lasting renown for the future. 
 They were, therefore, at all times careful to cherish and 
 kindle the smouldering fire of that native genius which 
 was the special heritage of Italy, and which she preserved 
 through all the rude vicissitudes of external conquest and 
 internal warfare. 
 
 In Italy first appeared that dawn of light, destined in 
 its meridian splendour to dissipate the dense ignorance 
 into which Europe generally was plunged. The earliest 
 efforts of her language, half a century before Dante 
 wrote the poem which so largely contributed to form it, 
 were protected and fostered at the court of Frederick II., 
 King of Sicily. To touch only upon great examples : 
 In 1316 we find Dante entertained at the court of the 
 Scaligeri at Verona, and the princely hospitality of his 
 host is immortalized in that portion of the "Divina
 
 96 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Commedia" which, as a further proof of Dante's grati- 
 tude, was dedicated to Can Grande della Scala " II 
 Gran Lombardo," as the poet calls him. 
 
 Similar hospitality was shown to Dante during the last 
 years of his life by Guido da Polenta, Lord of Ravenna ; 
 and Petrarch, following closely upon the footsteps of 
 Dante, was sought after and honoured by all the princes 
 of Italy, as we have recently shown in these pages. Nor 
 did the princes only extend their favour to what may be 
 called the creative genius of the thirteenth century ; they 
 were also foremost in promoting that research among the 
 long-lost classics which was the distinguishing mark of 
 the next century. 
 
 This research, first begun by Petrarch and Boccaccio, 
 and pursued with infinite labour in circumstances of great 
 difficulty, received in the fourteenth and fifteenth cen- 
 turies very general encouragement. The Pontiffs in 
 Rome, the Medici in Florence, the Visconti, afterwards 
 succeeded by the Sforza, at Milan, the Arragon kings of 
 Naples, the Houses of Gonzaga in Mantua, and of Este 
 in Ferrara, the Dukes of Urbino all promoted this re- 
 vival of learning. They sent emissaries to all parts of 
 the world for the purpose of collecting manuscripts, and 
 no journey was accounted too dangerous or too protracted 
 to obtain them. Pre-eminently, Lorenzo de' Medici 
 spared neither trouble nor expense in his researches. He 
 sent to explore both Europe and Asia for Greek and Latin 
 manuscripts, which, when brought to him, he purchased 
 at any price ; and twice, with a magnificence worthy of 
 lu's name, did he despatch the celebrated Giovanni Lascari 
 to the Sultan Bajazet, in order that under the Imperial 
 protection he might carry his researches through Greece. 
 Two hundred manuscripts, of which eighty were new 
 discoveries, were the result of these journeys. 1 
 
 On the discovery of the twelve comedies of Plautus in 
 1429, for up till that time only eight were supposed to 
 exist copies of the manuscript had immediately to be 
 made for the several houses of Visconti, of Este, and of 
 the Medici. It is further related as a proof of the esteem 
 
 1 Tiraboschi, " Storm della Le'.tcrutura Italians," vol. vi. p. 137.
 
 THE PEINCE POINTERS OF ITALY. 97 
 
 in which these treasures of classical learning were held 
 by the princes, that a manuscript of Livy's Annals, sent 
 by Cosmo de' Medici to Alfonso, King of Naples, sufficed 
 to appease a quarrel between them ; though the king was 
 counselled by his physicians to examine it carefully 
 lest Cosmo should have introduced poison between the 
 leaves. 2 
 
 But none of the princes of this time deserve so much 
 praise as an encourager of learning as Nicholas V. 
 (Thomas Sarzana), who became Pope in 1447. He 
 founded the Vatican Library, and left it at his death 
 enriched with 5000 volumes, a treasure far exceeding 
 that of any other collection in Europe. Every scholar 
 who needed maintenance, found it at the court of Koine, 
 and several Greek authors were translated into Latin, by 
 order of Pope Nicholas V. 3 
 
 Almost all the works of the classical authors were 
 either found in Italy or elsewhere by Italians, and the 
 enthusiasm which had been shown in collecting manu- 
 scripts next took the form of bestowing them in those 
 magnificent libraries which are among the great wonders 
 of Italy. Niccolo Niccoli, a Florentine of eminent learn- 
 ing, first conceived the idea, and founded the first public 
 library in the convent of the S. Spirito at Florence, of 
 which Boccaccio's private collection of books was the 
 germ, he having left them as a legacy to that convent. 
 From this eventually sprang the famous Medicean library, 
 only one among many of the princely libraries of Italy. 
 
 The fall of the Eastern Empire towards the middle of 
 this century compelled the Greeks in considerable num- 
 bers to seek a refuge in Italy, when they further disclosed 
 those immortal monuments of their language which the 
 Crusades had been the first means of revealing to the 
 European mind. Thus a new and still more powerful 
 stimulus was given to the general desire for information. 
 
 This thirst was very partially relieved while the foun- 
 tain of learning continued to trickle out, drop by drop, 
 through the difficult and costly channels of copies and 
 transcriptions. But the wonderful discovery of Guten- 
 
 " Tiraboschi, "Scoria della Lettenitura Italiaaa," vol. vi. p. 126. 
 3 Hallam, "Lit. of Europe," vol. i. p. 113. 
 
 H
 
 98 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATCRE. 
 
 berg suddenly opened the spring, and diffused the long- 
 pent-up waters of learning over the civilized world. 
 
 Printing could not have been invented at a more pro- 
 pitious moment for the perfecting of this wondrous art. 
 The especial circumstances of the age caused it to be 
 universally appreciated, and it seemed to crown the joint 
 labours of the princes and learned men with a success 
 which, in their wildest dreams, they could not have 
 expected to attain. 
 
 Although Germany must fairly claim the honour of 
 this great invention, it has never been questioned that 
 Italy was the first to follow in her footsteps ; and it is 
 worthy of notice how quickly she adopted and succeeded 
 in appropriating to herself the invention of another 
 country. This was only natural. Abundantly rich in 
 her own talents, she had no cause to envy a foreign dis- 
 covery, and at that moment of supreme activity of mind 
 she did not hesitate to adopt the new invention, although 
 it did not originate with her. On the contrary, nursed 
 and cherished in the centre of art and learning, printing 
 soon reached its highest perfection. 
 
 The rude wooden movable characters, Gutenberg's 
 great discovery and improvement on the still ruder en- 
 graved blocks of wood, from which the so-called " block- 
 books " were printed, and which was the earliest form of 
 the art 4 were now discarded for types cut by the artist- 
 hand of a Francia ; men of profound erudition and culti- 
 vated talents were employed to select and revise the 
 manuscripts about to be printed ; while princes were 
 willing to devote much of their wealth, and even to 
 sacrifice a portion of their territories, to this new and 
 wonderful method for the diffusion of knowledge. 
 
 Thus when Aldo Manuzio, who may be rightly called 
 the father of Italian typography, first set up his printing- 
 press in Venice, it was Alberto Pio, Prince of Carpi, who 
 defrayed the cost, whose family name of " Pio " Aldo 
 was permitted to bear, on account of the great affection 
 and intimacy which existed between them, and by it the 
 
 4 Hallam, "Lit. of Europe," vol. i. p. 150. "This mode of 
 printing from blocks of wood has been practised in China from 
 time immemorial."
 
 THE PRINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 99 
 
 princes of Italy will always be associated with the first 
 great printer of their country. 
 
 Before proceeding to speak of Aldo, whose life and 
 works are more generally known, some few words should 
 be said about his patron, whose remarkable talents and 
 singular excellence, while they deserved a better fate in 
 his lifetime, have been allowed to remain too long in 
 obscurity after his death. Tiraboschi, 5 the great historian 
 of Italian literature, first brought them to the light. Till 
 that time no one had ever written any account of the life 
 of the Alberto Pio. He was the son of Leonello, Prince 
 of Carpi, a small principality, now only a town in the 
 present Duchy of Modena. His mother was the sister of 
 Pico della Mirandola, the accomplished friend of Lorenzo 
 de' Medici. It had been arranged that Alberto Pio, and 
 his brother Leonello, should divide the principality with 
 Giberto and his brothers, the descendants of another 
 branch of the same family. This division of authority, 
 especially when the estate to be governed was of small 
 dimensions, caused, as may easily be imagined, fierce and 
 continual dissensions, and the estates of the Pio family 
 were the scene of perpetual warfare. As usual, the 
 Emperor of Germany was appealed to, and, as usual, no 
 good result ensued. The neighbouring Dukes of Ferrari 
 also strove more than once to appease the quarrel in 
 Carpi. But the truces were always of short duration, 
 until in the year 1500, Giberto, in order to revenge him- 
 self on his cousin Alberto, sold his rights over the 
 principality of Carpi to the Duke of Ferrara, receiving in 
 exchange a few towns belonging to the dukedom. 
 
 Thus did Ercole, Duke of Ferrara, first obtain a hold 
 over the principality of Carpi, and his successor, Alfonso, 
 was not slow to avail himself of this semblance of a right. 
 By the payment of 100,000 florins to the Emperor 
 Charles V., he obtained from him in 1552 the investiture 
 of the principality, in defiance of a former decree of the 
 Emperor Maximilian, which upheld the rights of Alberto 
 Pio and annulled the cession made by Giberto to the 
 Dukes of Ferrara. The Prince of Carpi, when thus 
 
 5 " Storia," vol. vii. pp. 236, 283, et seq. 
 H 2
 
 100 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 robbed of his dominions, retired to the Court of Francis 
 L, and found his best consolation in those literary 
 pursuits which in his brighter days he had so liberally 
 protected. 
 
 Passing by the further political vicissitudes of Carpi 
 before its final absorption into the Duchy of Ferrer*, 
 which have but a remote bearing on the subject of this 
 paper, we will now look upon her prince from a literary 
 point of view. Our admiration for the eminence which 
 he obtained, both in the cultivated use of his own mind 
 and in his endeavours to promote it in others, is increased 
 by the consideration of the perpetual state troubles by 
 which he was harassed. From his earliest years, at the 
 age of four, he was the pupil of Aldo Manuzio, 6 and for 
 nine years he enjoyed the advantage of so distinguished a 
 tutor, whereby he acquired a permanent taste for litera- 
 ture. The gratitude which the young prince felt on this 
 account to Aldo, lasted through life, and showed itself on 
 every occasion. Aldo, on the other hand, had the highest 
 esteem for his young pupil, and paid a striking tribute to 
 his zeal for learning in dedicating to him the first volume 
 of his magnificent edition of Aristotle of 1495, called 
 " Editio Princeps." r In this dedication, Manuzio ad- 
 dresses Alberto Pio as the patron of all learned men, 
 his own patron more especially ; adverts to his enthusiasm 
 for collecting Greek books, thus following in the footsteps 
 of hia learned uncle, Pico della Mirandola ; and dwells 
 upon the fair promise of his early years, so admirably 
 >] lent in the improvement of his own mind and in en- 
 deavouring to promote the revival of learning, since he had 
 for many years been indefatigable in collecting Latin, 
 Greek, and Hebrew manuscripts, while he entertained 
 with a princely magnificence the most learned men he 
 <;ould find, to correct and explain them. 8 
 
 Of a similar nature is the eulogium of Federigo Asolano, 
 who also drdiratt-d in the Prince of Carpi the second 
 volume of the works of Galen. But Aldo Manuzio was 
 
 fi Manni, " Vita di Aldo Pio Mamr/.io," P- 9. 
 7 This edition of Aristotle was in five vols , the first bpnrinjr dntc 
 1495, the last 1498.- HnlLun, " Lit. of Earopv," vol. i. pp. 224, 225. 
 " Tiraboschi, vii. p. 291.
 
 THE PRINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 101 
 
 more especially bound to express his sense of obligation 
 to Alberto Pio, for, together with his uncle, Pico della 
 Mirandola, this prince had formed a design which may 
 well entitle them to be called the "Prince Printers of 
 Italy." Their scheme was to publish an entire set of new 
 and correct editions of Latin and Greek authors, in order 
 the better to promote the study of the two languages. 
 
 The greatest printer of the age, Aldo Manuzio, was 
 chosen to execute their project, which Erasmus, in his 
 " Proverbs," afterwards printed by Aldo, lightly terms one 
 of princely magnificence : for it included the restoration of 
 literature fast falling to decay ; the disinterment of that 
 which had lain concealed for ages ; the supply of what 
 was deficient ; the correction, by careful comparison, of 
 manuscripts which appeared erroneous. 9 
 
 For this purpose Alberto Pio, although according to 
 Renouard he was then only twelve years old, and his 
 uncle, Pico della Mirandola, resolved to set up a magnifi- 
 cent printing-press in Carpi for Aldo Manuzio, giving him 
 absolute possession of one of his castles in which to carry 
 on the work, and even as a further mark of honour 
 investing him with the government of a part of his 
 territory. An Academy of Arts and Sciences was to be 
 included in the scheme, in order that these might flourish 
 in his dominions, and Carpi be the centre whence the 
 Aldine editions should emanate. Unhappily, so splendid 
 a design was frustrated by the political disturbances already 
 alluded to, and Aldo had to betake himself to Venice, 
 where he set up, in 1488, 1 his famous printing-press, the 
 cost of which was defrayed by the two princes, Alberto 
 Pio and Pico della Mirandola, who by no means abandoned 
 that part of the project because they could not have the 
 glory of executing it in their own dominions. On the 
 contrary, they gave large sums of money for this purpose, 
 and throughout the various vicissitudes of the life of Aldo 
 these two princes, despite their own political troubles, 
 
 9 Maffei, " Storia della Lett. Ital.," vol. i. p. 242. 
 
 1 Manni, " Vita di Aldo Pio Manuzio," p. 12. There have been 
 various opinions as to the exact date of this event, but Manni 
 founds his assertion on Aldo's Preface to Aristotle, dated 1495, 
 in which Aldo affirms that he has been seven years engaged in the 
 *' difficult and costly undertaking of printing."
 
 102 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 continued to befriend him. The printing-press thus 
 established at Venice had a marvellous success. Before 
 twenty years elapsed there was scarcely a Greek or Latiu 
 author whose works had not issued from it in one of those 
 beautiful editions now so rare and so eagerly coveted. 
 
 The full merit of these editions can only he rightly 
 appreciated when we consider that the manuscripts from 
 which they were printed were often imperfect, mutilated, 
 and half effaced ; the copies of the same author not 
 always agreeing together, and demanding as much patience, 
 wisdom, and sagacity on the part of the critic as manual 
 dexterity on the part of the printer. 
 
 Hitherto books had been usually printed in folio, but 
 Manuzio was h'rst inspired with the idea of publishing 
 them in a smaller and more convenient form. 
 
 In order to compress the contents of these folios into 
 the 8vo size which he invented, and which has since 
 become so common a form of volume, he caused to be 
 engraved that peculiar kind of type, which for a long 
 time bore the name of the "Aldine Type," and which we 
 now term " Italic." 
 
 It was originally copied from the handwriting of 
 Petrarch in the manuscript of the " Canzoniere," and the 
 characters to which Aldo owes so much of his fame, and 
 which may justly claim our admiration for the grace and 
 taste of their forms, are supposed, with good reason, to 
 have been cut by no less a hand than that of the great 
 artist Francesco Kaibolini, or " II Francia." 
 
 From the beginning of the invention of printing, the 
 types were for the most part engraved by either gold- 
 smiths, coiners, or engravers of some kind or another, 
 and the chief masters in the art were always chosen for 
 this purpose. It is well known that " Francia " was un- 
 rivalled in his goldsmith work ; that the medals and 
 money stamped with coins of his engraving were equal to 
 those of the famous " Caradosso " of Milan, and that 
 when employed to paint the Altar-piece of the Uenti- 
 voglio Chapel, he signed his work " Franciscus Francia, 
 Aurifex," as if to denote that he was by profession a 
 goldsmith, and not an artist. 2 
 
 3 Lanzi, " Storia Pittoricu dell' Italia," vol. v. p. 20.
 
 THE PEINCE PRINTERS OP ITALY. 103 
 
 The first time that this type was employed was in the 
 edition of Virgil published by Aldo in 1501, and he is 
 careful to acknowledge his obligation to the great artist 
 in the following inscription : 
 
 " In Grammatoglvptse Laudem 
 Qui graiis dedit Aldus, in latinis 
 Dat nunc Grammata scalpta daedaleis 
 Fraucisci uiauibus Bononiensis." 3 
 
 It is only much to be lamented that Aldo did not 
 continue to act in accordance with this acknowledgment. 
 Far from doing so, he obtained from the Government of 
 Venice a monopoly for the use of these types during a 
 period of ten years, and three successive Popes Alex- 
 ander VI., Julius II., and Leo X. laboured to secure 
 Aldo this monopoly, while it was forbidden to Francia 
 to cut types for any one else, and to all, save Aldo, was 
 their use forbidden. In all the history of monopolies 
 and privileges one more odious than this could hardly be 
 found. Even admitting, as it is commonly urged, that 
 Aldo first invented the characters to which he gave his 
 name, the mere fact of their having been executed by 
 another hand ought to have restrained him from demand- 
 ing, and the Government from according, so unjust and 
 so exclusive a monopoly. In the rare and beautiful 
 edition of Petrarch which Francia published at Bologna, 
 where he set up his printing-press after his separation 
 from Aldo, is to be found, on the title-page, his lament 
 that he had lost both the glory and the profit which he 
 would have derived from the characters cut by his own 
 hand, had not both fallen to the share of Aldo Manuzio. 
 The rival printers of Soncino, near Cremona, who first 
 printed the Hebrew characters, and who, although they 
 afterwards set up their printing-presses throughout Italy, 
 always preserved the name of their native town till it 
 
 3 Renouard, " Annales des Aide," vol. i. p. 165. There has been 
 some doubt as to whether this Francisci was the same person as the 
 famous Francia, but Sir Antonio Panizzi, in a beautiful little treatise 
 (from whence this information has been drawn) entitled " Chi era 
 Francesco da Bologna," and privately printed in 1856, proves this 
 point to the satisfaction of all his readers. See also Blade, " Life 
 of Caxton," vol. ii. p. 24.
 
 104 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 became a family name, declared also, without hesitation, 
 that Aldo had usurped from Francesco da Bologna the 
 honour of the invention and the design of the running 
 characters. 4 They further added that no one was to be 
 compared with Francia for skill in engraving, not only 
 Latin and Greek, but also Hebrew characters. 
 
 It must, however, also in fairness be stated that 
 Renouard does his best to justify Aldo from this accu- 
 sation, by asserting that the inscription in the Virgil is 
 an all-sufficient acknowledgment of the artist's share in 
 the invention of the running characters. 5 Be this as it 
 may, it would still seem much to be regretted that even 
 the semblance of so great a blot should rest on the cha- 
 racter of a man who, like Aldo Manuzio, spent his whole 
 life in efforts to contribute to the progress of the human 
 mind and the advancement of civilization. 
 
 It is indeed difficult to form an idea of the enthusiasm 
 with which Aldo laboured to place once more before 
 mankind those grand productions of ancient classical 
 literature which had so long been allowed to remain in 
 obscurity. If he discovered a manuscript which had not 
 yet been printed, he never ceased in his efforts till he had 
 gained possession of it, regardless of trouble and expense. 
 While he thus promoted the interests of learned men, 
 they in return gave him their best assistance. From all 
 sides contributions of manuscripts flowed in, some for 
 sale, and some sent gratuitously as gifts. 
 
 From 1501 to 1505 this Aldine Press was in the 
 fullest activity, publishing all the principal classical and 
 Italian authors in that smaller form of which the Virgil 
 of 1501 had been the first sample. The transition from 
 the cumbersome and expensive folios to these cheap and 
 portable editions was so great a step in the progress of 
 printing, that it appeared only second in importance to 
 the discovery of the art itself. 
 
 Nor does the reputation of Aldo rest only on his 
 printing, or even on his editorial labours, the Greek and 
 Latin dissertations, prefaces, and criticisms with which 
 he illustrated the books which issued from the press ; he 
 
 * Familiarly called " caratteri coreivi." 
 4 " Anuales des Aide," vol. Hi. p. 22.
 
 THE PRINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 105 
 
 left behind him also some original works, chiefly of an 
 instructive kind, of considerable merit. His first work 
 was a Latin Grammar written to take the place of the 
 old scholastic " Doctrinale " of " Alexandri da Villa Dei," 
 written in barbarous and meaningless rhymes, which had 
 been the torment of his youth. This was followed by a 
 Greek Grammar, a Greek and Latin Dictionary, and 
 other works, whose names cannot be inserted in this paper 
 for want of space. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 SOME writers have affirmed that Aldo Manuzio first 
 invented the Greek types. This, however, Kenouard 
 declares to be only so far true that up to the time of Aldo, 
 whenever a Greek passage occurred in a book, it was left 
 blank to be filled up with the pen, because few of the 
 printing establishments were furnished with Greek types. 
 But Greek books, many of them of importance, were 
 known to be printed before that time, such as the 
 Grammar of Lascaris at Milan in 1476, a Homer at 
 Florence in 1488, and others besides. Nevertheless, 
 there is no doubt that Aldo was the first to introduce a 
 great improvement in the existing Greek types, which 
 were badly shaped and rudely cut, whereas he had new 
 ones formed after the pattern of the best manuscripts. 
 Moreover, Greek books, which had been printed slowly 
 and at rare intervals, now issued from the great Venetian 
 Press with astonishing speed. When Aldo had amply 
 furnished himself with Greek and Latin types, 6 his next 
 step was to adopt a peculiar device whereby his books 
 might be distinguished all over the world. He chose 
 
 6 A contemporary writer affirms that Aldo had silver types cast 
 for his favourite editions. Another declares th it the Pope promised 
 Paolo Manuzio a set of types in the same precious metal, "argentei 
 typi ;" hut Renouard casts doubt upon this, ('e'-laring that the ex- 
 pense of casting types in silver would have been too great. Nor 
 would they have been sufficiently durable. On the same account he 
 refuses to believe that silver types were employed to print a Bible at 
 Cambridge, by Field, ill 1656. "Ann. des Aide," iii. p. 85.
 
 106 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 with singular sagacity the mark of the Dolphin and 
 Anchor well known to all, and which, adopted by Knglish 
 printers 7 and publishers, is still employed to adorn many 
 of the choicest editions of our books. 
 
 The Dolphin was chosen because of the speed with 
 which the tish is said almost to leap through the waves, 
 while the Anchor, on the contrary, represents stability 
 and repose. By these emblems Aide meant to imply that, 
 in order to labour to any purpose, the scheme of work 
 must be carefully and maturely weighed, and then be 
 executed with rapidity. 8 It is said that two Emperors, 
 Titus and Domitian, made use of the same emblem, and 
 that Aldo was presented by a member of his Academy 
 (II Bembo), with a silver medal of the time of Titus, 
 bearing the stamp of the Dolphin and Anchor. Although 
 he had for some time entertained the idea of employing 
 this device, it was only used for the first time in 1502, 
 for a small 8vo Dante, and all the books which sub- 
 sequently issued from his press bear this celebrated 
 emblem. As might have been expected, there were many 
 counterfeit dolphins and anchors employed by printers, 
 who, disregarding the monoplies granted to Aldo, sought 
 by the aid of this stamp, and by imitating his types, to 
 pass off their books as productions of the celebrated 
 Aldine Press. Among these were the Giunti of Florence, 
 of whom Francesco d'Asola, a partner and relation of 
 Aldo, bitterly complains in his Preface to the Titus 
 Livius of 1518. He discovered their fraud by the fact 
 of the dolphin's mouth being turned to the left, and not 
 to the right, as in the Aldine stamp. Theodoric Martens, 
 a Belgian printer, who died at Alost in 1534, stamped his 
 editions with a double anchor ; to which Erasmus, many 
 
 1 As, for example, William Pickering, of London, with the in- 
 scription " Aldi l)i.-rip. Anglvs." His edition of the British Poets 
 is in the small 8vo form which Aldo had invented. The mark 
 which he adopted for his books was the later and more finished im- 
 pression of the Dolphin and Anchor, struck in the time of Paolo 
 Mtmuzio, and technically termed " L' Ancora grassa." The original 
 Btump of the Aldine Pres, as employed by the great Aldo, appears 
 in the books of Mr. Basil Montagu Pickering, the present publisher. 
 
 8 " Annules des Aide," vol. iii. p. 97.
 
 THE PRINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 107 
 
 of whose works lie printed, makes allusion in his epitaph 
 upon, the printer : 
 
 " Here I lie, Theodoric of Alost. 
 
 The sacred anchor remains, emblem dearest to my youth. 
 Be Thou, O Christ, I pray, my sacred anchor now." 9 
 
 The dolphin and anchor were indeed more or less 
 imitated by many printers of this century at Paris, Basle, 
 Cologne, Rome, Parma, &c., &c. John Crespin, of Geneva, 
 placed them at the foot of a Greek Testament, with the 
 initials J. C. and the following lines : 
 
 " Les agites en mer, Christ, seule anchre sacree 
 Asseure, et en tout temps seule sauve et recree." 
 
 These printers, for the most .part, adopted the device after 
 .the death of Aldo, but during his lifetime he suffered 
 most annoyance from the printers at Lyons, who imi- 
 tated his editions without scruple, and even copied his 
 prefaces. 
 
 These frequent piracies at last compelled Manuzio to 
 draw up a formal remonstance, in which he pointed out 
 the typographical errors and general incorrectness of the 
 fraudulent editions. But even this the Lyonese printers 
 turned to account, for they quickly extracted the erroneous 
 sheets, which they replaced with new ones, corrected 
 according to Aldo's remonstrance, and thus their fraud 
 was doubly secured. 
 
 It is now time to speak of the Academy, the "Aldi 
 Neacademia," formed by Aldo in Venice for the especial 
 purpose of presiding over the editions of the classics, and 
 ensuring their excellence and correctness. All the learned 
 men of Italy of that time esteemed it an honour to belong 
 to this Academy. 1 The name of Erasmus is also enrolled 
 .among the list of members. His " Adagia," as has been 
 already stated, were printed at the Aldine Press, and 
 Aldo announces, in the preface, that he had purposely 
 
 9 " Hie Theodorieus jaceo prognatus Alosto 
 
 Anchora sacra inanet, notse gratissiina pubi 
 Christe, precor, nunc sis anchora sacra mihi." 
 1 For a list of members see Benouard, " Ann. des Aide," vol. iii. 
 pp. 3638..
 
 108 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 delayed the printing of many classical additions in order 
 to publish immediately this most excellent work. Erasmus, 
 on the other hand, observes, in the same book, that " If 
 some tutelary deity had promoted the views of Aldo, the 
 learned would shortly have been in possession not only of 
 all the Greek and Latin authors, but even of the Hebrew 
 and Chaldee, insomuch that nothing could have been 
 wanting in this respect to their wishes." ' 
 
 It is sad, however, to relate that this friendship be- 
 tween Aldo and Erasmus, which had been founded on 
 mutual esteem, did not last. It was even exchanged for 
 a dislike almost approaching to hatred, and difficult 
 to account for. Whereas it had been the pride of 
 Erasmus to assist in the correction of the great Venetian 
 Press, he afterwards indignantly disclaimed having under- 
 taken the correction of any but his own works, and is 
 careful to explain that he never received from Aldo the 
 wages of a corrector of the press. Some affirm that the 
 Italian manner of living appeared to Erasmus frugal and 
 parsimonious when compared with the good cheer of 
 Germany or of his native country, and that he left Venice 
 on that account. But a more probable solution would 
 seem to be that as his opinions inclined towards those of 
 Luther and his party, they became distasteful to Aldo, 
 who had every reason to attach himself to the cause of 
 the Popes, to whom he owed three successive monopolies. 
 It is certain that, after the quarrel, whenever Aldo or his 
 successors printed a book for Erasmus, they inserted the 
 contemptuous designation of "Transalpinusquidam homo" 
 in the title, instead of the name of the author, as if to 
 signify his complete disgrace at the court of Rome. 
 Moreover, the Prince of Carpi, who had supplied the 
 funds for establishing the Aldine Press, was strongly 
 opposed to the views of Erasmus, and even went so far 
 as to refute them in a work of much erudition. When 
 Luther first began to declare his opinions, the eyes of 
 the world were fastened on Erasmus as one of the most 
 learned men of the age, to see which side he would 
 embrace. While the Lutherans, in spite of the protesta- 
 
 1 Roscoe's " Life of Leo X.," vol. i. p. 1G8.
 
 TRE PKIXCE PEINTERS OF ITALY. 109 
 
 tions of Erasmus, declared that he held their opinion, he 
 was an object of interest to two parties in the Church of 
 Rome : the one headed by Leo X., Clement VIII. , and 
 Cardinal Sadoleto, who tried by praise and flattery to 
 keep him within the pale of the faith and to induce him 
 to lay down those opinions which led him to be suspected ; 
 and on the other hand, those who thought it their duty to 
 protest opnly against him, to point out his errors and 
 mistakes, in order that others might not make shipwreck 
 of their faith upon the same rocks which had wrought 
 his ruin. Foremost among these was Alberto Pio, Prince 
 of Carpi. Erasmus, to whom the character and learning 
 of this prince were well known, and who had besides 
 seen him often in Venice, remonstrated with him for the 
 harshness of his language, to which Alberto replied in a 
 learned treatise, dated May 12, 1526, pointing out to 
 Erasmus the dangerous nature of his opinions, so little 
 removed from those of Luther, at the same time praising 
 both his genius and learning. 
 
 Erasmus defended himself against this attack, and the 
 controversy continued. Theology had always been the 
 favourite study of the literary prince of Carpi, and he now 
 undertook an elaborate work, singularly free from the 
 scholasticism of the age, eloquent in style, and full of 
 erudition, in which he examines and compares the works 
 of Erasmus and of Luther. This work he printed at 
 Paris, where he had taken refnge after the sack of Rome 
 by the troops of Charles V. It was in the precs when he 
 died (1531), and was published in Paris that same 
 year. 3 
 
 These few fragments are all that can be collected of 
 the history of a prince who has perhaps literally, the most 
 right to be called a Prince Printer of Italy, his name 
 appearing in conjunction with that of the first Venetian 
 Printer on the title-page of each one of those splendid 
 volumes of Venetian typography as they issued from his 
 
 3 " Alberti Pii Carporum Comitis Illustrissimi et Viri lonpe doc- 
 tissimi prseter prtcfiitionem et operis conclusionem, tres ct Vigiuti 
 libri in locos lucul>ratinnuin variarum D. Krasmi Roterodami quos 
 censet ab eo recognoseendos et retractandos." Tir. "Storia," 
 vii. p. 295.
 
 110 STUDIES IM ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 press. Ilia tutor and friend, the great Manuzio, whom he 
 had been the means of so largely benefiting, and who in 
 return, had spent his whole life in executing the vast 
 literary designs of the prince, had pre-deceased him by some 
 years. Aldo died in 1515, at the age of sixty-six, before 
 he could accomplish his cherished project of printing a 
 Bible in three languages, Hebrew, Greek, and Latin. 
 One page only was executed of this great undertaking, but 
 the beauty of the characters of all three languages, in each 
 of which Aldo was an equally good scholar, is sufficient to 
 show what a noble work the first Polyglot Bible would 
 have been had he lived to execute his design.* 
 
 Aldo was by his own especial wish buried at Carpi, in 
 tin- Church of San Patemiano. 
 
 But the reputation of the Aldina Press, which he had 
 founded, was not destined to expire with him, nor was 
 the patronage of the princes of Italy only exercised in 
 Carpi. 
 
 Paolo Manuzio, the third son of Aldo il vecchio, and 
 the only one who followed the profession which his father 
 had rendered so famous, was but three years old at the 
 death of Aldo. The work of the Aldine Press was not, 
 however, suspended on that account, but, still bearing the 
 name of its illustrious founder, was maintained by Andrea 
 Torresano d' Asola, the father-in-law of Aldo il vecchio, 
 with whom he had entered into partnership on marrying 
 his daughter, and who had assisted him in his pecuniary 
 difficulties. Andrea was himself an adept in the art of 
 printing, and, some years previous to his entering into this 
 partnership, had purchased the printing establishment of 
 Nicholas Jenson, another Venetian printer of some reputa- 
 tion, which thus hecame incorporated into the Aldine 
 Printing House. The operations of this great firm were 
 thereby still further extended, and were carried on by 
 Andrea d' Asola and his two sons, Francesco and Federigo, 
 during the minority of Paolo Manuzio. 
 
 The books printed during this period are marked 
 
 " In acdibus Aldi et Andrese soceri." 
 
 4 For fac-*imile of page see Rcnouard, " Annales," iii. p. 41.
 
 TUB PBIXOE PRINTERS OF ITALY. Ill 
 
 The stamp of the Press was preserved unchanged, with 
 the addition of the peculiar mark of the Torresani a 
 tower with the letters A. T. till the death of Andrea 
 in 1529, when the establishment ceased to work for a few 
 years. 
 
 It was reopened in 1533, by the young Paolo Manuzio, 
 who, although only twenty-one, inspired confidence both 
 by his name and the diligence with which he had applied 
 himself to his studies. In 1540 the partnership with his 
 uncles, the Torresani, was dissolved. They went to Paris, 
 where they set up, a few years later, a printing establish- 
 ment, while Paolo, with the advice and assistance of his 
 father's learned friends, conducted the Aldine firm at 
 Venice. The books which now issued from this press 
 bore either the inscription " Apud Aldi Filios " or " In 
 eedibus Pauli Manutii." A new and more careful stamp 
 of the dolphin and anchor was struck, which is termed 
 by Italian booksellers " L' Ancora grassa," to distinguish 
 it from that of Aldo il vecchio. In 1546 the stamp 
 underwent a still greater change, the anchor having, to 
 use an heraldic term, two cherubs for " supporters " on 
 either side, and the words "Aldi Filii " substituted for 
 the single name, which, divided in two, " Al-Dvs," was 
 formerly placed on either side the anchor. 6 
 
 In the year 1571, the Emperor Maximilian II. con- 
 ferred upon Paolo a patent of nobility, with the right to 
 add the Eagle of the Empire to his coat-of-arms, which 
 was the same as the mark of his press. But Paolo died 
 before he could make use of this new device, and the 
 only books which bear it were printed after his death by 
 his son. 
 
 Paolo Manuzio, being now sole proprietor of the firm, 
 applied himself diligently to follow his father's footsteps, 
 and gave himself up entirely to literary and typographical 
 labours. The editions which he issued from his press 
 were universally famed for their beauty and correctness, 
 and for the erudition of their notes and prefaces. His 
 edition of Cicero of 1540 was considered the best and 
 
 5 For these various forms, see Renonard, " Annales," iii. pp. 98 
 101.
 
 112 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 most important of any classical author yet published. 8 
 The " Aldi Neaoadrmia," which his father had founded, 
 and which had existed but a few years, was replaced in 
 Paolo's time by a great "Accademia Veneziana," also 
 called " Delia Fama," from its emblem a representation 
 of Fame with the motto : " lo volo al ciel per riposarmi 
 in Dio." It was founded in 1556 at the cost of Federigo 
 IJadoaro, a Venetian senator, and about a hundred of the 
 most distinguished literary and scientific men of Italy 
 belonged to it, with Bernardo Tasso, father of the poet, 
 as president. It was intended for the general encourage- 
 ment of the arts and sciences, with the special objects of 
 correcting the numerous mistakes of the old books on 
 philosophy and theology, adding annotations and disserta- 
 tions, and translating them into various languages. The 
 printing was entrusted to the Aldine firm, and Paolo 
 Manuzio was chosen as corrector of the press. He was, 
 besides, appointed to fill the chair of eloquence in the 
 Academy. In a short time many books were issued, 
 which, for the beauty of their type, the qtiality of their 
 paper, and the accuracy of their corrections, obtained a 
 great reputation for this Academy. But, unhappily, the 
 brilliant expectations to which this institution had given 
 rise, were dashed to the ground by the bankruptcy of its 
 founder, and the " Accademia della Fama " was as short- 
 lived as the " Aldi Keacademia " had been. It struggled 
 on for a few months after this catastrophe, until its com- 
 plete collapse, after an existence of but four years, and 
 thirty years went by before another Venetian Academy 
 could be established. 
 
 .Still, the manner in which Paolo Manuzio, during his 
 brief connection with this institution, had discharged his 
 functions, won for him a great reputation, so that when 
 after its collapse he travelled through Italy for the pur- 
 pose of visiting the fine libraries which it was the pride 
 and glory of the princes to collect, it was the endeavour 
 of each and all to retain him in their principality. The 
 Senate of Bologna offered him a large sum to carry on 
 his printing in their city, and the Cardinal Ippolitod' Este 
 tried in the same way to retain him in Ferrara, but the 
 
 6 Hullam, "Lit. of Europe," vol. i. p. 325.
 
 THE PRINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 1 1 3 
 
 honour of an Aldine establishment was reserved for the 
 Imperial city. In the year 1539, the Cardinal Marcello 
 Cervini and Alessandro Farnese had formed the 
 design of setting up a printing-press in Rome for the 
 purpose of printing the manuscripts of the Vatican. 
 Antonio Blado Asolano, the printer selected to execute 
 the design, previous to going to Rome, went to Venice 
 to implore the assistance of the Aldine Press in the 
 preparation of types, paper, and other requisites for the 
 undertaking. The Venetian firm gladly lent their 
 powerful assistance, and beautiful editions of Greek and 
 Latin authors soon issued from the Blado Press, of which 
 the most remarkable was a Homer with the commentaries 
 of Eustathius, published in 1542. 
 
 But it was the age of Luther, and the presses of the 
 Holy See were required for other purposes than for that 
 of reproducing ancient classical authors. Pius IV. there- 
 fore summoned no less a person than the great Venetian 
 printer to establish a branch of th Aldine Press at Rome, 
 for the purpose of printing the works of the Fathers of 
 the Church, and other ecclesiastical writers, in order to 
 oppose some barrier to the flood of new opinions which 
 was rapidly overspreading the world. At the cost of 
 Pius IV., who, besides an annual salary of five hundred 
 scudi, paid in advance the whole expense of the transfer 
 of himself and family, II Manuzio opened his printing- 
 house in the Campidoglio, the very palace of the Roman 
 people, and the books printed there bear the stamp of 
 " Apud Paulum Manutium in sedibus Populi Romani, 
 1561." 
 
 It would seem as if so classical a residence and so 
 important an employment must have fixed Paolo Manuzio 
 for ever in Rome. But nevertheless, from various reasons 
 (and no satisfactory one has yet been discovered), either 
 because his gains were not in proportion to his labours, or 
 because the climate was not suited to his health, after the 
 lapse of nine years he left Rome and returned to Venice. 
 
 Yet he was never able, after his sojourn in Rome, 
 to settle again. He went both to Genoa and Milan, and 
 in 1573 once more to Rome, for the purpose of visiting 
 a daughter whom he had left in a convent there. 
 
 i
 
 1 1-4 STUDIES IN ITALIAN 
 
 Gregory XIII. then occupied the Papal chair, hut liko 
 his predecessor, he knew too well the value of a man 
 of so great a literary reputation as Paolo to let him 
 escape out of his hands. Gregory offered him an annual 
 stipend, with entire liberty to attend to his own pursuits, 
 if he would once more conduct the Aldine Press at Home 
 Paolo agreed, hut his second sojourn in Rome was 
 shorter even than the first ; not, however, this time from 
 any inconstancy on his part, but because death overtook 
 him early in the following year (1574). Although 
 Paolo Manuzio was inferior to his father, in that he only 
 maintained what Aldo had created, he was equal to 
 him as a printer and editor. Some writers say that his 
 taste as a critic was not so faultless as that of Aldo il 
 vecchio, but his works place him among the most polished 
 writers, both in Latin and Italian, of his age. His 
 most famous Latin treatises are the two upon the Roman 
 Laws and Polity. 7 In his letters Mauuzio carefully 
 copied the style of Cicero, whose letters he also com- 
 mented on. The literary men of his time even went so 
 far as to say that it was difficult to decide whether 
 Manuzio owed most to Cicero or Cicero to Manuzio. But 
 uhile Hallam places him among those writers of the 
 latter part of the sixteenth century who were con- 
 spicuous for their purity of style, he blames him for too 
 close an imitation of Cicero, which causes the reader soon 
 to weary of his writings, however correct and polished 
 they may be. Paolo Manuzio also wrote and published 
 various small treatises in elegant and beautiful Italian. 
 He made a careful study of Roman antiquities, and was 
 the first to discover on an ancient marble the Roman 
 Calendar which he published in 1555, with an expla- 
 nation, and a short treatise on the ancient manner of 
 counting the days. Like all eminent men he had his 
 detractors, such as Gabriello Barri, who accused him of 
 being a plagiarist, but the accusation was entirely without 
 foundation. 8 
 
 At the same time Tiraboschi blames Paolo for his dis- 
 
 * " DC Lepibus Romanorum," and " De Civitate." Hallum, 
 " Lit. of Etiroje," i. 523. 
 8 See Tiruboschi, vii. 211.
 
 THE PEINCE PEINTEES OF ITALY. 115 
 
 content, and for his repeated complaints of the indifference 
 shown by the princes of his time to the progress of 
 literature. The short sketch of the life of Manuzio just 
 given is sufficient to prove the injustice of these com- 
 plaints, and Tiraboschi shows that at the time when 
 they were made (1595) there was not a province in Italy 
 without a prince whose pride and glory it was to cherish 
 and protect literature and learning, and who has not left 
 behind him the recollection of his munificent protection 
 of science and ait. But Manuzio was often hindered in his 
 great labours by ill-health and the weakness of his eyes ; 
 and this may perhaps account for that peevish and 
 querulous disposition which led him to find fault with the 
 times in which he lived. 
 
 He left four children, but only one son called Aldo, 
 after his illustrious grandfather was destined to maintain 
 the family reputation. 
 
 Aldo " il giovane," so called to distinguish him from 
 the founder of the family, seemed destined to fulfil the 
 brilliant expectations suggested by his name, by publish- 
 ing, at the age of eleven, a small collection of choice 
 Latin and Italian authors, together with a treatise upon 
 the two languages ; 9 and this was followed, in three 
 years' time, by a more learned and more considerable 
 treatise upon Latin orthography. 1 
 
 That his father must largely have assisted him in these 
 two works can admit of little doubt ; indeed, Kenouarcl 2 
 suggests that it was probably the work of Paolo himself, 
 with some few contributions from his son, and that the 
 father published the book in the name of Aldo in order 
 to give him a brilliant start on his literary career. 
 
 His after reputation did not at any rate keep pace with 
 so remarkable a beginning, and the success which he did 
 achieve was due more to his name than to his individual 
 efforts. He profited by his residence at Borne during his 
 father's lifetime to augment his collection of ancient in- 
 scriptions, by studying the monuments themselves instead 
 
 9 Eleganze insieme con la copia della lingua Toscana e Romana, 
 scelte da Aldo Manuz'o, 1558. 
 
 1 Orthographise Ratio ab Aldo Manuzio. 
 
 2 " Ann. des Aide," vol. iii. p. 176. 
 
 i 2
 
 116 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of the accounts of them in books. He was thus able 
 considerably to improve his work on Latin orthography, 
 of which he published a new edition in 1566. This work, 
 the fruit of great research, is even now consulted by those 
 who wish to write or reprint Latin books. 3 
 
 Paolo Manuzio entrusted his son with the management 
 of the Aldine Press at Venice, himself conducting the 
 branch which he had transferred to Rome. 
 
 The Venetian Press, under the superintendence of 
 Aldo il giovane, did not so much produce new works as 
 reprints of those editions on which its reputation was 
 already founded. From 1540 to 1575 it was chiefly 
 occupied upon the works of Cicero ; and the most cele- 
 brated work of Aldo il giovane was his commentary upon 
 the works of this author, in ten volumes. Five of these 
 it must, however, be stated, were the work of Paolo, and 
 only the latter five were added by his son. 
 
 In 1572 the young Aldo married Francesca Lucrezia, a 
 daughter of a branch of that same Giunti family of 
 printers who had been the early rivals of the Aldine 
 Press. His career at Venice does not seem to have been 
 very distinguished, although, perhaps more as a tribute to 
 his name than his merits, he was made Secretary to the 
 Venetian Senate, and other marks of distinction were 
 conferred upon him. Yet he was not loyal to a city 
 which had honoured himself and his family, or to an insti- 
 tution which had immortalized his name. In the hope 
 of greater gains and a more extended reputation, he 
 accepted the post of Professor of Latin Eloquence at 
 Bologna, in the room of the learned Sigonius ; and he 
 left Venice (1585) never to return, having previously 
 made over the famous press which bore his name to 
 Niccolo ManassL 
 
 Aldo il giovane had a full share of that princely favour 
 which his father and grandfather had enjoyed. His 
 " Life of Cosimo de' Medici " procured him the favour of 
 Francesco, his descendant, the then reigning duke, who 
 placed him in the chair of belles lettres at Pisa, through 
 which he became a member of the Florentine Academy. 
 
 " Ann. des Aide," vol. iii. p. 178.
 
 THE PRINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 117 
 
 At the same time he was offered a similar position at 
 Rome, vacant by the death of the famous Latin scholar 
 Muretus. This he at first refused, but it was kept open 
 in the hope that he would one day accept it, which at 
 last he determined to do. Yielding to the entreaties of 
 Pope Sixtus V., he transferred himself and his vast 
 library the result of the united labours of his father and 
 grandfather to Rome in the year 1588. He fulfilled 
 the duties of the Professor's chair during the lifetime of 
 this Pope, and at his death in 1590, his successor, 
 Clement VIII., gave Aldo, in addition to this post of 
 honour, the more lucrative position of superintendent of 
 the Vatican Printing Press. This responsible office he 
 only held during five years, dying it is commonly sup- 
 posed, of a surfeit in 1597. Such was the unsatisfactory 
 life, which by no means fulfilled the brilliant promise of 
 its early years. Dazzled by the glory of a premature 
 reputation, Aldo neglected the profession which his father 
 and grandfather had raised to so much honour ; and in- 
 stead of being, like them, the first printer of his age, 
 filled an inferior place among literary men. It would 
 seem also that he possessed more learning than taste in 
 employing his knowledge, and that, while gifted with a 
 retentive memory, he was by no means in other respects 
 a genius. His works are those of a learned man, well 
 acquainted with his subjects, but written in a dry, re- 
 pulsive style. One of those supposed to be the most 
 interesting is the " Life of Castruccio Castracani," the 
 usurper who became Lord of Lucca. The life of this 
 singular individual had already been written by Macchia- 
 velli in Italian, and by Tegrimi in Latin ; but Aldo, 
 dissatisfied with both these biographies, made a journey 
 to Lucca for the purpose of consulting the public archives 
 and family documents. With their assistance he pub- 
 lished at Rome a new life of this extraordinary soldier of 
 fortune, entitled, "Le Attioni di Castruccio Castracani 
 degli Antelminelli, Signore di Lucca." It is praised by 
 De Thou, and a new edition was published at Pisa as 
 lately as 1820. 
 
 Aldo il giovane left no surviving children, and with 
 him the family became extinct ; while the Press which
 
 118 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 will for ever bear their name, passed into other hands. 
 lie died, moreover, without a will, and the splendid 
 library of 80,000 volumes, which it had taken three 
 generations to collect, was divided among his creditors. 
 Angelo Rocca wrote an epitaph upon the three Manuzii, 
 in which, however, he shows an undue partiality for 
 Aldo il giovane.* 
 
 The annals of the Aldine family have been given a 
 prominent position in this paper, and pursued as closely 
 as its brief limit will allow, because they illustrate not 
 only the progress and perfecting of the typographical art 
 in Italy in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, but also 
 the princely favour and patronage to which that art was 
 in its infancy so much indebted. The circumstances also 
 in which the Manuzii were placed, and the nature of their 
 labours, give their history an interest which does not 
 perhaps belong to that of any other printer. Nor are 
 similar circumstances likely to occur again. Never again, 
 as in the case of Aldo il vecchio, will it fall to the lot of 
 any printer to exhume and rescue from destruction the 
 ancient classics ; nor will it again be the privilege of any 
 prince to lend his countenance and supply the funds 
 requisite for so arduous and so glorious a task. 
 
 " Eeddo Diem " is the apt motto placed by Manni on 
 the title-page of his life of Aldo Pio Manuz'io, and it is 
 not easy to determine whether the Venetian printer 
 deserves most the gratitude of posterity for the light of 
 knowledge which his discoveries shed upon the world, or 
 for the preservation of that knowledge by an art which 
 he brought to perfection and which seems to render a 
 future dark era impossible. But although these two 
 achievements may fairly give him the claim to be con- 
 sidered the chief printer of Italy, it must be admitted 
 that in point of time others had preceded him. It is 
 
 4 " Aldus Manutius senior, moritura Latina 
 irjDcaque restituit mortua ferine typis. 
 Pitolus restituit caluino monumenta Quiritum 
 Utque alter Cicero scrip ta diserta dedit. 
 Aldus ilmn juvenis miratur avumque patrcmque 
 Filius atque nepos, est avus atque Pater." 
 
 , Ann. de* Aide, vol. iii. p. 208.
 
 THE PRINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 119 
 
 commonly supposed that the first Italian press was set 
 up by two Germans, Sweinheini and Pannartz, in the 
 monastery of Subiaco, then inhabited by German monks 
 in the Roman Campagna. They first printed the works 
 of Donatus, followed by those of Laetantius and the " De 
 Civitate Dei " of St. Augustine. 
 
 From Subiaco the monastery was transferred to Rome, 
 where it was under the patronage of the Popes, Paul II. 
 and Sixtus V., who conferred the Episcopate of Aleria, in 
 Corsica, on the corrector of their press, Giannandrea dei 
 Bussi, a man of great learning, but at that time in the 
 very depths of poverty. Another bishop, Giannantonio 
 Campmo, Bishop of Terramo, corrected the proofs of a 
 rival printing-house, that of Udalrico Gallo at Rome. 5 
 
 Before the time of Aldo, Venice had her printing-presses, 
 one set up in 1469 by Giovanni da Spira and Vendelino 
 his brother, another that of Niccolo Jenson, which, as has 
 been already seen, was purchased by Andrea d' Asola, the 
 father-in-law of Aldo. 
 
 In this same year books were also printed in Milan, 
 which may boast of having printed the first Greek book, 
 the Grammar of Lascaris, of Constantinople, in 1476, by 
 Dionigi da Paravisino. 
 
 Florence was celebrated for the family of the Giunti, 
 who attained a great reputation in their own city, and 
 also established branches of their firm at Venice and 
 Lyons. Luc Antonio Giunta and Filippo his brother were 
 the first printers in this family, and like the Manuzii, of 
 whom they were often the not very scrupulous rivals, they 
 published a great number of editions of the classics. Of 
 these, the most celebrated was an edition of Plutarch's 
 Lives in Greek, first published in that language by Filippo 
 Giunta ; while Bernardo, his son, published the celebrated 
 edition of Boccaccio's "Decamerone." 6 The Giunti main- 
 tained their printing reputation through several genera- 
 tions, and their rivalries with the Aldine firm were finally 
 extinguished by the marriage of the grand-daughter of 
 Luc Antonio Giunta with the grandson of Aldo il vecchio, 
 
 5 Tiraboschi, " Storia." vi. pp. 162, 166, 168. 
 e Iteuouard, "Annales," iii. p. 341.
 
 120 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in 1572. The family did not become extinct till the 
 middle of the next century. 
 
 The art of printing spread in Italy with surprising 
 rapidity, not only in the large cities, among which it was 
 soon the exception to find one without a press, but also 
 in the smaller towns, and even villages. Books were 
 printed in St. Orso, near Vincenza ; Polliano, near Verona ; 
 Pieve di Sacco, Nonantola, and Scandiano, in the duchies 
 of Modena and Reggio ; so that it may fairly be said that 
 if Italy did not invent the art, she did her utmost to 
 propagate it with rapidity. 
 
 Moreover, the influence of printing was not confined to 
 the field, however vast and fruitful, of classical learning. 
 It also penetrated into the wide and comparatively untried 
 area of Oriental literature, and the restoration of the Greek 
 and Roman languages was speedily followed by the study 
 of the Eastern tongues, which, although necessary to the 
 better knowledge of the sacred writings, had been for a 
 long time neglected. The first Hebrew book ever printed 
 is supposed to have been the Pentateuch, printed at Bologna 
 in 1482, prior even to those issued by the famous Hebrew 
 press at Soncino, already alluded to, which was established 
 in 1484. In the next century the Hebrew language was 
 studied to a considerable extent for controversial purposes, 
 on the one side by the German Protestants, and on the 
 other by the champions of the Roman faith. It was the 
 favourite language of the great Bellarmine, himself a con- 
 siderable Hebrew scholar. 
 
 The Syriac and Chaldee, closely related to Hebrew, 
 were studied for the same theological purposes, also the 
 Arabic, by far the most fertile in books. The first Arabic 
 press was set up at Fano by the Venetian Giorgio, at the 
 cost of Pope Julius II. It was the first press with Oriental 
 types established in Europe, and although no book was 
 issued from it during the lifetime of that Pope, one year 
 after his death (in 1516) there appeared the first attempts 
 at a polyglot Bible in a Psalter printed in four languages, 
 Hebrew, Greek, Arabic, and Chaldee, of which a Domi- 
 nican, Agostino Giustiniani, was the editor. 7 
 
 7 Gingu^ne, vol. vii. p. 230.
 
 THE PRINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 121 
 
 This instance of good-will, which in the midst of his 
 devouring ambition Pope Julius II. manifested to lite- 
 rature and art, would have been more highly esteemed, 
 had not his immediate successor, Leo X., the worthy son 
 of II Magnifico, opened another Augustan age for literature 
 and learning in Italy. And yet an eminent literary his- 
 torian observes, " that although these times are generally 
 distinguished as the age of Leo the Tenth, I cannot per- 
 ceive why the Italians have agreed to restrict to the court 
 of this Pontiff that literary glory which was common to 
 all Italy. It is not my intention to detract a single 
 particle from the praises due to Leo X. for the services 
 rendered by him to the cause of literature. I shall only 
 remark that the greater part of the Italian princes of this 
 period might with equal right pretend to the same honour ; 
 so that there is no particular reason for conferring on Leo 
 the superiority over all the rest." 8 Still, the patronage 
 of the Holy See, which was accorded to the earliest begin- 
 nings of printing in Italy, was exercised with a continual 
 munificence worthy of especial consideration. The Popes 
 lost no opportunity of protecting and furthering the pro- 
 gress of an art whose manifold importance to the Holy 
 See became daily more apparent. 
 
 Leo X. has been blamed, and not without reason, for 
 cultivating the classics to the neglect of sacred literature. 
 The two opposite historians of the Council of Trent (Fra 
 Paolo Sarpi, and Pallavicino) seem to agree upon this 
 point. 9 
 
 A further witness to the devotion of this Pope to 
 classical study and literature appears in his edition of the 
 first five books of Tacitus, purchased for five hundred 
 scudi from the Abbey of Corvey, in Westphalia, and 
 printed and published at Rome in a new and costly 
 edition at his own private expense, with the monopoly 
 secured for ten years under pain of excommunication. 
 The edition of Plato dedicated to him by Aldo Manuzio 
 
 8 Roscoe's "Leo the Tenth" (from Andres, "Dell' origine 
 d' ogiii Letteratnra "), i. p. 380. 
 
 9 See their judgments Sarpi, " Storia," i. pp. 11, 12; Pallavicino, 
 " Couc. di Treiito," lib. i. cap. ii. p. 51.
 
 122 STUDIES ix ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 was also secured to the Venetian printer in a similar 
 manner. 
 
 On the other hand, instances may ho urged of the 
 encouragement afforded hy him to many learned men who 
 devoted themselves to the study of the sacred writings. 
 On being informed that Pagnini, a learned ecclesiastic 
 then in Rome, had undertaken to translate the Bible 
 from the original Hebrew, Leo requested to be allowed 
 the inspection of this work. He also ordered that the 
 whole should be transcribed at his own expense, and gave 
 directions that it should be immediately printed. 1 Tesco 
 Ambrogio of Pavia, who is said to have understood no 
 less than eighteen different languages, was employed by 
 this Pope to translate the liturgy of the Eastern clergy 
 from the Chaldee into Latin, and was also appointed by 
 him to a chair at the University of Bologna, where he 
 delivered instruction in the Syriac and Chaldee languages. 
 Moreover, the great Cardinal Xiinenes dedicated his Com- 
 plutensian Polyglot Bible to Leo, as an acknowledgment 
 of the encouragement which he had afforded to Oriental 
 learning. Leo the Tenth died in 1582. It was during 
 the brief Pontificate of his immediate successors, nine of 
 whom filled the Papal chair in an interval of sixty-three 
 years, that the Manuzii (Paolo and his son Aldo) were 
 summoned to establish a branch of their printing-press in 
 Rome. 
 
 It was the glory of Sixtus V., elected Pope in 1585, to 
 securely establish the Vatican printing-press. This press 
 was principally intended for early Christian literature, and 
 the dedication to him of the works of Gregory the Great, 
 by Pietro da Tossignano, sets forth that infinite praise is 
 due to Sixtus V., both lor the idea and the execution of 
 so magnificent a scheme as the publication of the Holy 
 Fathers of the Church, whereby a great and solid advan- 
 tage is obtained for the Catholic Faith. The splendid 
 editions of the Vulgate and of the Septuagint, and many 
 other works of great value, were the fruit of this last 
 scheme of Sixtus V. 
 
 After the death of Aldo il giovane, the regulation of 
 
 1 Koscoe's " Life of Leo X.," vol. ii. p. 401.
 
 THE PEINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 123 
 
 this press, Avhich had been placed tinder his charge by 
 Clement VIII., and upon which 40,000 scudi had been 
 already expended, was confided to Domenico Borso. This 
 expense does not appear so extraordinary when it is re- 
 membered that this press was furnished not only with 
 Greek and Latin, but also with Hebrew and other Oriental 
 characters, with paper of great value, and every other 
 requisite for the perfection of this art. Above ail, the 
 most learned men of the age were paid high salaries to 
 supervise and correct the editions which issued from it. 
 
 Many of the Cardinals imitated the example of the 
 Popes. Even before Sixtus V. had conceived or executed 
 his vast scheme, another, almost equally magnificent, had 
 been carried into effect by Cardinal Ferdinando de' Medici. 
 In 1580 he opened a printing-press in Rome, with 
 Oriental types, to be entirely devoted to the publication 
 of books in Eastern languages, for the purpose of propa- 
 gating the Eoman Faith among the people of the East, 
 and bringing them into the fold of the Eoman Church. 
 Gregory XIII. placed under his care the two Patriarchates 
 of Alexandria and Antioch, and declared him also Protec- 
 tor of Ethiopia, thus committing the salvation of those 
 far-off countries to his charge. 
 
 The Cardinal did not neglect his trust, but despatched 
 learned and expert travellers throughout Syria, Persia, 
 Ethiopia, and other Oriental provinces, in search of manu- 
 scripts, which they brought to Kome to be printed. First 
 there issued from his Oriental press an Arabic and Chal- 
 daic Grammar, the works of Avicenna and Euclid, then 
 the four Gospels, first in Hebrew, and afterwards in a 
 Latin version, of which 3000 copies were printed. He 
 had also intended to print the Bible in six of the principal 
 Eastern languages, in order that these, joined to the four 
 already printed, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, and Chaldee, 
 might make altogether a Bible in ten languages, the 
 grammar and dictionary of each tongue also forming part of 
 the work. But the simultaneous death of Pope Gregory 
 XIII., and of his own brother Francesco de' Medici, whom 
 he succeeded as Grand Duke of Tuscan y, prevented the 
 accomplishment of this design. His Oriental press, how- 
 ever, continued to work for many years. In fact, most of
 
 124 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEBATURE. 
 
 the books in Oriental types published at Rome in the 
 beginning of the seventeenth century contain tho im- 
 print " Ex Typographia Medicea linguarum externarum." 
 These types were afterwards transported to Florence, and 
 are still preserved in the Palazzo Vecchio. 
 
 Thus it may be said that both the Pontiffs and Car- 
 dinals of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries made 
 use of their power no less than of their treasure in further- 
 ing the interests of science. Indeed, the dedications of 
 the infinite number of books printed in this century, the 
 letters of the learned men of the age, and all the various 
 monuments of Papal magnificence which still exist in 
 Rome, bear witness to this fact. 
 
 The two other princely houses which vied the most 
 with Rome in munificence were those of Este and of the 
 Medici. It would be difficult to decide which of these 
 two carried off the palm in the opinion of contemporary 
 writers. To Cosimo de' Medici, Florence and all Tuscany, 
 of which he was the Grand Duke, are indebted for the 
 enthusiasm with which during his reign the arts were 
 cultivated, and the perfection to which they were brought. 
 The favour of this prince was also extended to printing, 
 and at his own cost he sent for Arnaldo Arlenio, a Ger- 
 man printer, established him in Florence, and associated 
 him with Torrentino, whose beautiful editions date from 
 1548. 
 
 Torrentino's editions cease with the year 1563, and it 
 is supposed that the wars in which Tuscany was then 
 involved caused him and his associate to seek a more 
 peaceful retreat in Mondovi, where the Duke Emmanuel 
 Philibert is said to have entered into partnership with 
 them. He at any rate assigned them a provision of 
 twenty scudi a month for three years, a fact of which 
 Arlenio reminds him in a petition for the maintenance of 
 his partnership with the heirs of II Torrentino, and the 
 payment of the promised provision, which, by some mis- 
 take, they had as yet not received. The duke acceded to 
 their request in a decree issued at Turin, March 15th, 
 1571.* 
 
 The Duke of Ferrara did not suffer himself to be 
 3 Note to Tiraboschi, vii. p. 218.
 
 THE PUIXCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 125 
 
 eclipsed by the magnificent patronage of the Grand Duke 
 of Tuscany. Alfonso II. d' Este also opened a printing- 
 press in Ferrara for the special purpose of printing works 
 hitherto unedited, and manuscripts which he had acquired 
 by diligent search. 
 
 So many famous printing-houses, established in every 
 part of Italy, contributed to the general cultivation 
 of literature. The multiplication of good copies of books 
 rendered them accessible, not only to the princes them- 
 selves, but also to private individuals ; while numberless 
 new libraries were formed, and the famous old ones in- 
 creased. 
 
 It would have been impossible in these few pages to do 
 more than indicate how powerful was the assistance 
 accorded by the princes to the art of printing during 
 the first two centuries after its introduction into Italy. 
 But enough has perhaps been said to prove that her 
 potentates were fully aware of the great advantages to 
 be derived from so wonderful an invention ; more espe- 
 cially as it seemed to come as a reward for their incessant 
 labours to promote the interests of literature, science, 
 and art. Not only did the stores of classical learning 
 thereby revealed to them repay their efforts, but the 
 Pontiffs found also a return for their liberality in the 
 spiritual weapons with which printing supplied them, 
 out of the armoury of the early Fathers. 
 
 Such Avere some of the first effects produced in Italy 
 by an art whose influence was scarcely less great over 
 the other countries of Europe, although productive of 
 different results. Printing reached its highest perfection 
 shortly after its introduction into Italy. In point of 
 rapidity of execution no doubt the quantity of printed 
 matter issued in the present time is immeasurably greater. 
 But, on the other hand, as to the quality of typography, 
 there can be no comparison between the ephemeral 
 productions of these days and those marvellous works, of 
 which one alone would suffice to establish the reputation 
 both of printer and editor. 
 
 The early Italian editions are not only sought for and 
 prized on account of their rarity, but also on account of 
 their unrivalled beauty, the excellent quality of their
 
 126 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 paper, the brilliancy of their types, the largeness of their 
 margins, and the careful attention bestowed on every 
 typographical detail. NOT then, as now, were some ex- 
 travagantly-luxurious editions issued side by side with 
 others of startling inferiority, with bad paper and worse 
 ink. The great printers of those days the Aldi of Italy, 
 the Elzevirs of Leyden, the Estiennes of Paris printed 
 for the general benefit of all readers. It is true that their 
 publications were often dearer than the common produc- 
 tions of some inferior contemporary printer, but then 
 these great printing-houses issued no bad editions all 
 were good, carefully executed, correct, and in good taste. 
 So much for the manual labour which belongs to the 
 printer ; but if we turn to the intellectual share of the 
 work which fell to the lot of the editor, there is still more 
 to excite our admiration in the sagacity and erudition 
 displayed in selecting the works most fitted for publica- 
 tion, and in arranging for their issue in the best possible 
 manner. Looking back on those early days of printing, 
 on the reverence with which the new discovery was em- 
 ployed, and the grand end which it subserved, we expe- 
 rience a feeling of regret that familiarity with its use 
 should have placed in unworthy hands, and diverted often 
 to unworthy purposes, perhaps the greatest discovery man 
 was ever permitted to make. 
 
 " It is a very striking circumstance," says Mr. Hallain, 
 "that the high-minded inventors of this great art tried, at 
 the very outset, so bold a flight as the printing of an entire 
 Bible, 3 and executed it with astonishing success. It was 
 Minerva leaping on earth in her divine strength and 
 radiant armour, ready at the moment of her nativity to 
 subdue and destroy her enemies. . . . "We may see in 
 imagination this venerable and splendid volume leading 
 up the crowded myriads of its followers, and imploring, as 
 it were, a blessing on the new art by dedicating its first- 
 fruits to the service of heaven." 
 
 In Italy, also, as we have seen, printing was never 
 
 3 Commonly called the " Mnz:riti Biblo," the edition being 
 unknown until found about the middle of the last century in 
 Cardinal Mazaiiu'o library at Paris. Hullam, "Lit. of Europe," 
 i. p. 153.
 
 THE PRINCE PRINTERS OF ITALY. 127 
 
 employed except in the service of erudition, or, higher 
 still, in that of Divine revelation. 
 
 Thus contemplated, the art of printing seems raised 
 above the ordinary level and bustle of common life, and 
 surrounded by the same kind of dignified repose which 
 especially belongs to the great libraries of Italy those 
 store-houses of accumulated science, the result of years 
 of labour on the part of her learned men, and costly 
 expenditure on the part of her princes. 
 
 There may have been many political and social evils 
 connected with the division of Italy into a variety of 
 States, each more or less despotically governed, but it 
 must be owned that the emulation caused by that very 
 fact stimulated a number of individual efforts whereby 
 the treasures of classical learning were secured to the world, 
 literature and the arts were cherished and protected, and 
 the graver sciences promoted in the same manner. To 
 the same source may also be traced the rise and rapid 
 progress of typography in the country. Italy has long 
 sighed for unity and liber-ty, and within the last few years 
 both these wishes have been accomplished. Great things 
 are also expected from a form of government which seems 
 to realize the wishes of her greatest sons. Xo longer does 
 Home 
 
 " Vedova, sola, e di e notte chiama : 
 Cesare niio, perche non in' accompagna ? "4 
 
 Caesar, in the person of a native monarch, sits firmly in 
 the no longer empty saddle, and upon a free country now 
 devolves the duty of cherishing the genius which may 
 spring out of her inexhaustible soil ; yet must she never 
 forget the debt which she owes to those princes by whose 
 fostering care the great art of printing was upheld during 
 its early struggles for existence in Italy, nor yet the noble 
 purposes which, under their direction, it was made to 
 serve. 
 
 4 Furg. c. vi.
 
 128 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 PART L 
 THE "LuDi" OR EVRLY MYSTERY PLATS THB "AR- 
 
 NASCIALESCHl"OF L.ORENZO DE* MEDICI THE "ORFEO" 
 
 OP POLIZIANO 
 
 A.D. 900-1500. 
 
 " Ce qu'on ne doit point voir, qu'un recit nous 1'expose 
 Les yeux en le voyant saisiroient miens la chose. 
 Mais il est des objets qae 1'art judicieux 
 Doit offrir a 1'oreille et reculer des yeux." 
 
 BOILEAU, L' 'Art Poetique. 
 
 Is choosing the title of the Italicun Drama, the writer 
 wishes to imply that the slight sketch contained in these 
 papers will only date from the revival of dramatic art in 
 Italy. The classical fame of the Roman theatre, closely 
 connected as it is with the immortal productions of the 
 land where the drama first burst into life, remains in far 
 abler hands. 
 
 It will, however, be seen that the rules and forms of 
 the ancient drama had taken such deep root in Italy that 
 they sprang up again, after centuries of devastation, to 
 give life and shape to the first efforts of her modern 
 tragedians. Even at the time of the fall of the empire, 
 the theatres which had witnessed the classic scenes of the 
 Roman drama were not entirely destroyed. They still 
 served for the scenic representations of the " Mimi" as they 
 were called, who were supposed to be directly descended 
 from the ancient "Mimi " of the Attellanian " Fabulae." 1 
 Most of the Italian writers on the drama agree in saying 
 
 i A kind of play or farce, which- took its name from " Attella," 
 a town belniigiiiir to the ()ci in Italy. These fnr<-c< wciv a sort 
 of rude game played by tlic Roman youth, \vho represented the 
 characters of aucieui mythology.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 129 
 
 that those which were called Commedie delV 4rte, were 
 the only comedies represented in Italy during the tenth, 
 eleventh, and twelfth centuries. In these dramas the 
 author's business was confined to arranging a skeleton plot 
 called a scenario, leaving with the actors the option of 
 filling it up with speeches according to their fancy, just 
 as in the present day, each actor chooses his own gestures 
 and actions to represent his conception of the part he has 
 to play. It was, however, understood that a certain 
 standard dress, and certain fixed jests belonged to each 
 part, and these were adhered to so strictly, that they have 
 descended even to our times in the familiar forms of 
 Harlequin and Punch (Puncinello). The dress of the 
 former (Arlecchino), originally called Centona orCentunedo, 
 being one garment made of numberless pieces, still pre- 
 serves its character. 
 
 By degrees the dramatis personce of the " Mimi " 
 became enlarged by Pantaleone (a Venetian merchant) ; 
 Dottore, a Bolognese physician ; Spaviento, a Neapolitan 
 Braggadocio, and other representatives of the various States 
 of Italy. Each spoke the dialect, and each wore the 
 costume of his native city. Far from being discouraged 
 by the ecclesiastical authorities, they received the decided 
 support of such grave Fathers of the Church as St. Thomas 
 Aquinas and St. Anthony; the latter only adding a 
 proviso that Harlequin should not be represented by a 
 clergyman, nor Punch be exhibited in church. 
 
 The scenic representations of the " Mimi " were after all 
 only relics of former times, but like the ancient classical 
 drama, not to speak of the rude attempts of many a 
 barbarian nation, Scandinavian, Peruvian, and Chinese, 
 the real efforts of the resuscitated Italian drama took a 
 religious form. The pilgrims, on their return from the 
 Holy Land, or S. Giacomo di Galizia, or the Madonna del 
 Puy, first began the custom of reciting publicly with a 
 certain amount of gesture and action the sacred story of 
 the Passion of our Lord, the life of the Blessed Virgin, 
 the Acts of the Apostles, and other passages either from 
 the Scriptures or from the legends of the saints. 
 
 At first these recitations, which rapidly became very 
 popular, were performed in the open air, either in the 
 
 K
 
 130 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 rhurcliyards, the public piazze, or the fields and highways. 
 But soon these places were discarded as unworthy of the 
 sacred character of the mystery plays, and they were 
 represented in churches where stages were erected ex- 
 pressly for the purpose. These sacred dramas resemble 
 the Greek plays in having both for their authors and per- 
 formers persons dedicated to the service of religion. If 
 the first Grecian poets were also priests, and, up to the 
 time of Sophocles, recited in person their dramatic com- 
 positions to the people, the mystery plays were also com- 
 posed and performed by the ecclesiastical, and not the lay 
 members of the Church. We learn from reliable authority 
 that six sacred dramas were written by the nun Rosvita 
 of Gandersheini between the years 980 and 1000; and 
 Muratori quotes a decretal of Gregory IX. specially en- 
 joining that the priests, deacons, and subdeacons shall, 
 under the authority of the bishop, represent these dramas 
 with fitting masks and dresses, for the diversion of the 
 people. 
 
 But if the drama was reawakened to life by the same 
 motive which prompted its birth, and if we may trace 
 several points of resemblance between its origin and its 
 revival, many obvious reasons interfered to prevent these 
 representations, in their religious form, from approaching 
 in the smallest degree to the excellence of the ancient 
 Greek theatre. Among the Greeks there was no office of 
 higher importance in the State than that of the poet. 
 Hence few were chosen for it but such as could unite to 
 their natural poetical gift a perfect acquaintance with the 
 politics and opinion which it was necessary to instil into 
 the people. They knew how to turn the theatre to 
 account in moulding the popular mind to the ends which 
 the government had in view how to find in it the most 
 powerful stimulus to their patriotic zeal, and their eager 
 desire for liberty. But priests of the Middle Ages, who 
 were the authors and directors of the sacred dramas, had 
 no such object in view, and, being scarcely less ignorant 
 than the people they professed to teach, their influence, far 
 from raising the popular tone, could only serve to increase 
 the ignorance and superstition which so generally pre- 
 vailed.
 
 THE ITALIAN DBAMA. 131 
 
 Then, if for a moment we consider the nature of 
 Pagan worship, absurd in principle, defective in means, 
 partial and inconsistent in result, we shall see that 
 out of these very errors the fine arts which combined 
 to illustrate the Greek drama drew their greatest advan- 
 tages. Where the religious teaching was wholly bent 
 on fomenting human passions, instead of reproving 
 them, where the gods, leaving the instruction of man- 
 kind to philosophers, appeared only as gods of pleasure 
 pleasure which, though inspired by poetry, eloquence, 
 and music, was still pleasure it is evident why these 
 fine arts came to be considered as celestial gifts to be 
 gained at whatever cost, and to be worthy of the highest 
 esteem. 
 
 Again, when the people considered the manifold weak- 
 nesses, not to say vices, attributed to the objects of their 
 public veneration, it must have been obvious that there 
 was no such vast and appalling difference between gods 
 and men, as to* render the former unfit to be represented 
 on the stage for the amusement of the latter. Further, 
 their patriotic feelings were appealed to by each represen- 
 tation of those mythological legends from which it was 
 their proudest boast to derive history. Thus while every 
 circumstance combined to exalt the Grecian drama to its 
 lofty summit of perfection it had also a political importance 
 which rendered it one of the most dearly-prized institu- 
 tions of the State. 
 
 But when, after the lapse of centuries of darkness and 
 ignorance, the drama began to revive in the land of its 
 adoption, all the auspices which had been so favourable to 
 its origin were changed. We need no words to prove 
 that the sacred mysteries of Christianity are at once too 
 awful and too incomprehensible .to be presented on the 
 stage as a spectacle for men. Human understanding being 
 incapable of attaining to the full conception of these 
 sacred subjects, they must be brought down from their 
 infinite height to come within the range of so limited a 
 vision, when, by a natural consequence, that which is 
 human and material must fall miserably short in an effort 
 to represent what is spiritual and divine. 
 
 A very few examples will perhaps show better than 
 K 2
 
 132 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 any argument how rapidly these sacred dramas, originally 
 pious in their intention, degenerated into abuse. 
 
 As early as the year 1264 we find that certain statutes 
 deUa Ccmipagnia del Gonfalone in Kome provided that 
 these " Ludi," as the mystery plays were termed, because 
 they were an essential part of the games and festivities 
 held at Easter and Pentecost, should be represented twice 
 in the year. 
 
 The feast of the "Pazzi" (maniacs) is the most con- 
 spicuous example of the profanity of these ceremonies. 
 Under the presidence of a mock archbishop, called the 
 " Arcivescovo dei Pazzi," the offices of the Church were 
 turned into elaborate ridicule ; but the details are too 
 repulsive to be put forward here, and the reader can form 
 a very fair idea of the whole ceremony from Walter 
 Scott's description of the form it took in Scotland under 
 the lordship of the " Abbot of Unreason." 2 
 
 Another example may be found in the "Ludo Pascale 
 della Venuta e Morte defi' Anticristo," annually performed 
 by injunction of the Roman statutes. It was a sort of 
 confused drama, in which the Pope and the Emperor, 
 with other sovereigns of Europe, appeared on the scene, 
 with the Antichrist, accompanied by personifications of 
 Heresy, Hypocrisy, and Heathenism. In 1304, we read 
 of the "Inferno" being represented at Florence, on the river 
 Arno, which was covered with every sort of boat, steered 
 by demons and filled with condemned souls, amid loud 
 cries and flames and every other horrible notion that the 
 subject could suggest. The concourse on the Ponte alia 
 Carraia to see this extraordinary spectacle was so great 
 that the bridge gave way and thousands were precipitated 
 into the river beneath. 
 
 These are some specimens of the sacred dramas, which 
 lasted for centuries, not only in Italy but all over Europe, 
 till at last they were prohibited on account of their 
 shocking profanity. They may be looked upon as the 
 first efforts of the revived Italian drama. Still as they 
 were played sometimes as sceni mute, without any words, 
 sometimes with speeches invented on the spur of the 
 
 2 See "The Abbot," p. 108.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 133 
 
 moment, no pains were taken to preserve tlieir forms or 
 their dialogues, so that up to the fourteenth century we 
 have no real specimens of Italian dramatic poetry. 
 
 But as ignorance declined, and the study of classic lore 
 began to revive, it became evident that these " Ludi " 
 could never reach the level of the ancient drama. Fear- 
 ing at first to venture in the untried path of the new 
 language, as yet unformed by the "Divina Commedia," the 
 dramatic writers kept closely to the track of the old 
 Latin tongue in their aim after a more exalted kind of 
 drama. The first of these, Albertino Mussato, a learned 
 Paduan, born in 1261, carefully modelled his Latin plays 
 upon the pattern of Seneca. One of his tragedies called 
 "Eccesinis," treating of a modern subject, the death of 
 Ezzelino, tyrant of Padua, won so great a reputation at 
 the .time that, like Petrarch, Mussato was honoured by a 
 laurel crown, presented to him by the Paduan university 
 in 1313. The Bishop of Padua further issued an edict 
 that on every" Christmas Day the doctors, regents, and 
 professors of the two Paduan. colleges should go to his 
 house in solemn procession to renew annually the offer of 
 the crown. 
 
 Although Mussato is supposed to have written his 
 tragedy in strict imitation of Seneca, he has not always 
 attended to the unities of time and place. Tiraboschi 
 truly observes that, in any case, " una cattiva originale 
 non potea fare che una cattiva copia." Still, although 
 pronounced by critics to be full of defects, they also 
 admit that the passions are drawn with some force, and 
 that a real interest runs through the play. 
 
 Albertino Mussato died at Chiozza in the year 1329, at 
 the fige of seventy. lie was so close a contemporary of 
 Dante that it is curious there should be no mention of 
 him in the "Divina Commedia." It appears from Petrarch's 
 letters, that in his early youth he also attempted to write 
 a Latin comedy per sollevar V animal He called it 
 " Philologia," but was so convinced of its worthlessness 
 that he took no pains to preserve it, and it never saw the 
 light. It is a question, which some affirm and some 
 
 3 Vol. i., lib. ii., le'.t. vii., p. 361.
 
 134 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 deny, whether he was the author of two other dramatic 
 compositions, one on the siege of Cesena, in 1357, by 
 Cardinal Albanoz, the other upon the fate of Medea, 
 which are still preserved in the Libreria Luurenziana at 
 Florence. 
 
 Many other plays in modern Latin succeeded these 
 first attempts, but they do not seem to have been ever 
 represented. The earliest prose Italian dramatic com- 
 position is said to have been translated from the Latiu 
 play " De Captivitate Ducis Jacobi," by Secco Polentone, 
 and to contain a remote reference to the arrest of General 
 Jacopo Piccinino in 1464. 
 
 But soon throwing off the stiff bonds of translation, the 
 vernacular began to assert itself with decided freedom 
 and vigour in the " Maggiolate," " Ballate," and " In- 
 tuonate," for which it was so eminently adapted. The 
 " Maggiolate," as their name would show, were the May- 
 day festivities, of which a feeble remnant has descended 
 to our own day ; the May-pole being represented in those 
 times by a living shrub, which, adorned with festoons 
 and flowers, was planted opposite the window of the 
 Queen of Love and Beauty, with every festive accompani- 
 ment of poetry, music, and the dance. The " Ballate " 
 and " Intuonate " were merely sonnets, usually selected 
 from the " Vita Nuova," set to music and sung to a kind 
 of dance, as if the same instinct which prompted the 
 inflections of the voice to express the feelings of the 
 soul guided the movements of the body to the same end. 
 
 Although this kind of poetry can hardly be said to 
 partake of the dramatic character, it prepared the way 
 for the " Carnascialeschi." These were originally Carni- 
 val festivities, but, under the skilful treatment of Lorenzo 
 de' Medici, they developed into a species of consecutive 
 drama. Up to his time the " Carnascialeschi " were 
 carried on in dumb show, with figures of wax or wood 
 dressed in grotesque characters. The " Trionfi " of 
 Petrarch were frequently chosen for these representations, 
 and Lorenzo was the first to suggest that the words 
 should be used also, set to a musical accompaniment. 
 
 On one occasion the "Trionfo della Morte " was elabo- 
 rately prepared by the Florentine painter Piero di
 
 THE ITALIAN DBAMA. 135 
 
 Cosimo, nothing being omitted to strike terror into the 
 hearts of the people. The funeral car, invested with 
 every emblem of mortality, paraded the city, accompanied 
 by troops of citizens singing the following lines : 
 
 " Morti siam come vedete 
 Cosi morti veclrem voi ; 
 Fummo gia come voi siete, 
 Voi sarete come noi." 
 
 Lorenzo himself composed many of these " Carnascia- 
 leschi." His great desire was to wean the people by 
 degrees from the sacred dramas which had so long occu- 
 pied the stage ; but aware of the jealousy and suspicion 
 with which any such reform would be received, he pre- 
 pared the way by himself writing a sacred drama, only 
 of a far higher order than any of those hitherto repre- 
 sented. It was called " SS. Giovanni e Paolo " not, 
 however, the great Apostles, but two servants of the 
 daughter of Constantine, who were put to death for the 
 faith in the time of Julian the Apostate. It is written 
 with a simple grace worthy of the ancient classical 
 dramas, and the moral is carefully drawn. " L' Abramo e 
 1'Isaaco" of Feo Belcari and Pulci's "Barlaam e Josafat" 
 were contemporary productions of the same improved 
 nature. 4 Lorenzo's next attempt was a drama called 
 " II Trionfo di Bacco e d' Arianne," full of vigour and 
 grace. He had soon many imitators eager to follow in 
 the new path which he had struck out. The " Virginia " 
 of Bernardo Accolto, founded on one of the novels of 
 Boccaccio, was quickly succeeded by the " Cefalo " of 
 Kiccolo da Correggio, a man of no ordinary ability, 
 famous as a soldier, but more famous for his poetry. He 
 was held in such high esteem by his contemporaries, that 
 Ariosto dedicates two lines to him in the " Orlando 
 Furioso :" 
 
 " Un Signor di Correggio , . . 
 Con alto stil par che caritamlo pcriva." 
 
 Orlando Furioso, cxlii. s. 92. 
 
 Pre-eminent among the successful followers of Lorenzo 
 was his friend and contemporary Angelo Poliziano. His 
 
 4 Two interesting volumes of these " Rappresentazioni,'' as they 
 were called, may still be seen, in the British Aluseum.
 
 130 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEBATCRE. 
 
 talents first declared themselves in his "Stanze per la 
 Giostra di Giuliano de' Medici," from the rich treasures of 
 which neither Ariosto nor Tasso disdained to borrow. 
 Thus, while the theatres at Rome, under Pomponio Leto, 
 were representing with laborious pains translations of the 
 plays of Plautus and Terence, Poliziano, the youthful 
 poet of Florence, produced the first real Italian drama. 
 His " Orfeo," written in a highly-polished style, with 
 regularity of plot and unity of intention, marks a distinct 
 era in the dramatic history of Italy. Poliziano was only 
 eighteen when he wrote this drama at the special request 
 of Cardinal Francesco Gonzaga. Moreover, it was com- 
 pleted in two days' time, in the midst of all the tumult 
 and rejoicings of a great festivity. 
 
 The first editions of the " Orfeo " were so mangled and 
 confused as to give no idea of its real beauty and elegance. 
 But, fortunately for Poliziano's fame, the learned Padre 
 Affo discovered an ancient and perfect manuscript in the 
 convent of the Santo Spirito at Reggio, which has enabled 
 him to give us a correct edition of the play. It is styled 
 a tragedy, and is divided into five acts, which division is 
 announced at the end of the prologue, in the lines : 
 
 " On stia ciascnno a tutti gli atti intento, 
 Che ciuque sono ; e questo & 1' argomento." 
 
 The dialogue is regular, the style clear and correct, and 
 there is a beautiful chorus at the beginning of the second 
 act, in which the Dryads bewail the death of Eurydice. 
 The speech of Orfeo as he stands before the gate of the 
 Inferno (act iv., scene 1) is so fine that we feel it might 
 indeed draw- 
 
 ' Iron tears down Plato's cheek," 
 
 and have 
 
 " Made hell grant what love did seek." 
 
 There follows a spirited dialogue between Pluto and 
 Proserpine : 
 
 " Chi e costui che con 1* aurata Cetra, 
 Mossa ha 1' iinmobil porta." 
 
 " Who is he, who with his golden lyre, 
 Until moved the gate mmuUble ? "
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 137 
 
 Then Orpheus makes his pathetic supplication in the 
 rolling stanzas of the ottava rima, so difficult to render 
 with any justice in a translation : 
 
 " Hear me, ye rulers of that hapless race, 
 For ever banished from the light of day, 
 To whom the creatures of all time and place 
 And nature's works their mournful tribute pay : 
 Hear my lament, and show some pitying grace, 
 Love ever leads me onward on my way 
 I come not cruel Cerberus to bind, 
 But still my love, my only love to find. 
 
 "A serpent hidden 'neath the flow'ry mead, 
 Hath ta'en from me the jewel of my life, 
 So doth my heart in constant anguish bleed, 
 And nought can still its grief and bitter strife ; 
 But if, of the time thou didst in triumph lead, 
 Trophy of famous love, a captive wife, 
 Still any trace within thy mem'ry live, 
 Once more to me my lost and lov'd one give. 
 
 "All earthly things at last must enter here, 
 Each mortal life to thy domain must fall, 
 And all that moves beneath the lunar sphere 
 Sooner or later must obey thy call. 
 Brief be our span above, or long and drear, 
 Thy dismal shores must claim us each and all ; 
 Here is the utmost limit of our way, 
 Hera must we yield us to thy endless sway. 
 
 " Thub must my fairest Nymph, one day, he thine, 
 O'erpassed the terra of nature's earthly life; 
 But thou the creeping tendrils of the vine, 
 And grapes unripe hast shorn, with ruthless knife, 
 To reap, while green, the harvest's promise flue, 
 Oh who would work such grievous havoc rite 
 Give then, give back my dearest hope to me, 
 No gift I ask, only a loan of thee. 
 
 "Then by those waters, turbid and forlorn, 
 Of Stygian marsh and Acheron's sad waves ; 
 And by that chaos whence the world was born, 
 By Phlegethon, whose burning torrent raves; 
 And by that fruit, O Queen, which pleased thue well, 
 When first thou cani'st within these shades to dwell. 
 If still injurious fate my prayer deny, 
 Then will I ne'er return, but here will die." 
 
 Orfeo, act iv. 
 
 Pluto is moved to grant Orfeo's request with the one 
 fatal condition attached to it.
 
 138 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Resuming for an instant the old classical fetters, 
 Poliziano makes Orfeo exult, in Latin, over his "half- 
 regained Eurydice," but immediately afterwards returns to 
 the vernacular, so exactly adapted for the beautiful and 
 plaintive lament of the unhappy bride : 
 
 " Aliinio che troppo amore 
 
 Ci ha disfatti avnlmlutt ! 
 Ecco che ti son tolta a gran furore 
 
 E non son or piu tua 
 Ben tendo a te le braccie, ma non vale 
 Che indietro son tirata Orfeo inio, vale ! " 
 
 Although the play is written in five acts, each act 
 being very short, it is comprised in brief compass. 
 
 Whatever disputes may occupy the Italian letteraii as 
 to whether the " Orfeo " was the tirst representation in the 
 vernacular and many are of opinion that it did really 
 precede the " Cefalo " by a few years in regard to merit 
 they are unanimous in giving it the first place on account 
 of its immense superiority to any of the Italian dramas 
 hitherto produced. 
 
 Poliziano was the brightest ornament of Lorenzo de' 
 Medici's brilliant court, and that discerning patron of 
 literature and art thought no favours or distinctions too 
 great for his young favourite. But in spite of Lorenzo's 
 patronage, in spite of his learning and rare gifts, Poliziano 
 was far from happy. He was the victim of a morbid dis- 
 content, arising partly out of the extreme deformity of his 
 personal appearance, which is said to have preyed upon 
 his mind, partly from his unpopularity, for he had many 
 enemies jealous both of his court favour and rare talents. 
 He died in 1494, surviving only two years the death of 
 his friend and patron Lorenzo, to whom he was deeply 
 attached. He has been accused of sharing the infidel 
 opinions in his time so rampant in Florence ; but, on the 
 other hand, it is urged that he translated from the Greek 
 the work of St. Athanasius upon the Psalms of David, 
 and that he made a careful study of Hebrew in order to 
 arrive at a better understanding of the sacred writings. 
 A contemporary writer assures us that he died in the 
 Christian faith, being attended on his death-bed by Fra 
 Domenico da Pescia, one of the two Dominican friars who
 
 THE ITALIAN DKAMA. 139 
 
 shared Savonarola's martyrdom. It is also stated that, by 
 order of the great preacher himself, Poliziano Avas vested 
 after death in the garb of St. Dominic and buried in the 
 church of San Marco. 
 
 His remains were afterwards removed into the church, 
 and laid beside those of Pico della Mirandola, his con- 
 temporary and friend. 
 
 PART II. 
 
 " IL TEATRO ITALIANO ANTICO." 
 A.D. 15001600. 
 
 '' Sometime let gorgeous tragedy 
 In sceptred pall come sweeping by, 
 Presenting Thebes, or Pelops' line, 
 Or the tale of Troy divine ; 
 Or what (though rare) of later age 
 Ennobled hath the buskined stage." 
 
 II Penseroxo. 
 
 WE have seen how Poliziano, with one vigorous effort of 
 his genius, struck off from the Italian drama the fetters of 
 a dead language ; and sent it forth into the world in the 
 freedom of its own beautiful speech. 
 
 But nearly a century elapsed before the dramatists of 
 Italy knew how to make a real use of their liberty. They 
 had been so long accustomed to the stiff rules and forms 
 as well as to the language of the ancient drama, that 
 they continued to follow in its track with leaden foot- 
 steps, content to sacrifice to a servile imitation much of 
 their inventive genius and all confidence in their own 
 powers. 
 
 Gian-Giorgio Trissino, commonly called the " Father of 
 Italian Tragedy," framed his " Sophonisba " in strict 
 obedience to the rules of Greek art. His natural gifts 
 were sufficiently remarkable to make this voluntary 
 bondage the more unfortunate, while his tragedy being 
 founded on a Latin argument, there seemed the less need
 
 140 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 to subject it so rigidly to the rules of Greece. Many 
 passages of real pathos, which occur in the " Sophonisba," 
 show to what a far greater height of excellence the author 
 might have reached had he left his genius to take its 
 natural course. 
 
 Still, on the other hand, the claim of the " Sophonisba " 
 to the first place in Italian tragedy may be due, in some 
 measure, to the regularity of its plot, the preservation of 
 the unities of time and place, and a strict adherence to 
 the other canons enforced by the rigid rules of dramatic 
 art. In fact its claim to precedence rests chiefly upon 
 superior merit, for in point of time it might be disputed 
 by two other tragedies in the vernacular. 
 
 Even if we consent to look upon the " Orfeo " more as 
 a pastorale than a tragedy, there was a rival " Sophonisba " 
 written in 1502, by the Marchese Galeotto del Carretto, 
 dedicated to Isabella d' Este, Duchess of Mantua ; and 
 this was succeeded by another tragedy the " Pamphila " 
 of Antonio da Pistoia represented on a wooden theatre 
 in the palace of Ercole II., Duke of Ferrara. But these 
 tragedies scarcely obtained any reputation at the time, 
 and are now considered by critics more in the light of 
 confused allegorical dialogues than regular dramas. 
 
 The " Sophonisba " of Trissino, on the contrary, created 
 a great sensation when it was represented at Rome in 
 1515, before Leo X., and its merits and defects have 
 been ever since freely discussed by the great writers on 
 Italian literature. Scipione Maffei gives it the first place 
 among the early tragedies of the Renaissance. Voltaire 
 considers it the first tragedy worthy of the name "quo 
 1'Europe ait vu apres tant de siecles de barbarie." He 
 finds many points to praise, though lamenting its stiff 
 adherence to classical rule, which criticism he points with 
 all the happiness of French illustration : "II s'appuie sur 
 Ilomere pour marcher, et tombe en voulant le suivre : il 
 cueille les fleurs du poe'te grec, mais elles se fletrissent 
 dans les mains de 1'imitateur." 
 
 Notwithstanding these defects, Trissino has no rival to 
 dispute his claim to the first place among the tragedians 
 of the " Teatro Italiano Antico." Even now the tragedy 
 may be read with interest : the character of Sophouisba
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. HI 
 
 is 'sustained throughout with dignity and pathos com- 
 bined 
 
 " With her th' Italian scene first lenrned to grlow, 
 And the first tears for her were taught to flow " 
 
 and it cannot be denied that some of her speeches are full 
 of tender feeling. The scene before her death, where she 
 takes leave of her maidens, contains passages which have 
 been especially admired. The appeal to her absent 
 mother 
 
 " Oh my mother ! and art thou far away ! 
 Might I but once have seen thy face again. 
 And in thine arms have laid me down to die ! " 5 
 
 and the farewell to her son 
 
 " O figlio mio tu non avrai piu madre ! " 
 
 The chorus in the third act, the poetical figure which 
 paints our life 
 
 " as some treasure rare 
 Not to be squandered in occasions base, 
 Nor yet withheld from service of renown : 
 For that a noble death throws back its light 
 O'er the forgotten life that's passed away " 6 
 
 and many similar passages of the kind would repay the 
 reader for a patient study of the drama. 
 
 The popularity of the " Sophonisba " was not confined 
 to Italy. It rapidly found its way into France, and 
 Voltaire is not ashamed to admit that the French drama- 
 tists gained the first ideas of the rules of their art from 
 the Italian tragedian. 
 
 Gian-Giorgio Trissino was descended from an ancient 
 family of Vicenza. His father was a Captain in the 
 service of the Republic of Venice. His mother belonged 
 to the Veronese family of Bevilacqua. He was born in 
 
 5 " O madre mia quanto lontana siete, 
 Almen potuto avessi una sol volta 
 Vedervi ed abbracciar nella mia morte." 
 
 * " La nostra vita e come un bel tesoro, 
 Che spender non si devi in cosa vile 
 Ne risparmiar nell' onorate imprese ; 
 Perche uiia bella e gloriosa morte 
 lllustru tutta la passata vita." 
 
 Sophonisba, p. 79.
 
 142 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATCJRK. 
 
 1478 and died in 1550. His idolatry of the classics, 
 which perhaps hampered his natural genius, he derived 
 from the instruction of his Athenian master, Demetrio 
 Calcondila. The " Sophonisba " was composed at Rome, 
 where the talents of the author early recommended him 
 to the notice of Leo X., to whom in return for his con- 
 sistent patronage Trissino dedicated his /' Sophonisba." 
 In this dedication the author apologizes for employing the 
 Italian instead of the Latin language, and for having 
 chosen to express himself in blank verse, which he con- 
 siders more adapted for moving the passions than rhyme. 
 He was often employed by the Pope as an ambassador to 
 various States, and it is said that he refused a Cardinal's 
 hat. He never accepted any ecclesiastical dignity, and 
 Voltaire is inaccurate in prefixing the title of " Le Prclat " 
 to his name. 
 
 Giovanni Ruccellai (born 1475, died 1526), the nephew 
 of Lorenzo de' Medici and the friend of Trissino, followed 
 closely in the footsteps of the first Italian tragedian, Hut 
 if, stimulated by the modern plot, there is more originality 
 in his tragedy of " Rosmunda," he falls back again into 
 the character of a humble imitator in his next drama, the 
 " Oreste." 
 
 The story of the " Rosmunda " is sufficiently interesting 
 to make it worth while to look at the play, and some 
 lines of really remarkable beauty are to be found in the 
 " cori." Yet the " Oreste," in spite of its being only an 
 imitation, is praised by Scipione Maffei as superior to 
 " Rosmunda," and is considered worthy of claiming a 
 distinct position among the old tragedies of Italy. 
 
 After the attempts of which we have spoken, a few 
 years passed without being marked by any dramatic effort 
 worthy of notice, till the " Canace " of Sperone Speroni 
 (born 1500, died 1588) excited general interest and some 
 controversy. This tragedy, which was much applauded 
 by the author's fellow-academicians of the " Infiammati " 
 at Padua, aroused a storm of criticism from the general 
 literary world, a just retribution perhaps for the author's 
 malignant attack upon Tasso, whose " Gerusalenime 
 Liberata " Speroni had condemned unread. However 
 much he pretended to defy the criticisms which now
 
 THE ITALEAN DRAMA. 143 
 
 assailed him in his turn, they induced him to alter and 
 amend his tragedy in many points ; and despite all the 
 tempest of invective and criticism showered upon it at the 
 time of its publication, the " Canace " is now looked upon 
 as one of the landmarks of the Italian drama. Its variety 
 of versification and its florid style were among the many 
 points to which exception was taken, as being unsuitable 
 to the gravity and dignity of the tragedy. Nevertheless 
 there were many who praised the style for a certain grace 
 and delicacy which had hitherto been foreign to the 
 drama, and who imagined that Speroni's style had served 
 as a guide both to Tasso and Guarini in their re- 
 spective pastorali of the "Aminta" and the "Pastor 
 Ficlo." 
 
 It would make a wearisome catalogue to cite even the 
 names of all the tragedies which followed in the wake of 
 those already mentioned, nor would the recital of names 
 of dramatists who were not great ornaments to the Italian 
 theatre repay the reader. 
 
 Some few exceptions ought to be made, in favour of 
 (1) the " Orbecche." the best of the nine tragedies produced 
 by the fertile genius of Giambattista Giraldi (born 1504, 
 died 1569), who first recommended the division of the 
 drama into acts and scenes. It was represented in 1541, 
 with splendid scenery, before Ercole II., Duke of Ferrara, 
 with so much truth and passion that the audience were in 
 tears. 
 
 The " Orbecche," so called from the name of the 
 daughter of the King of Persia, is founded on an Eastern 
 plot so full of horrors that the prologue finds it necessary 
 to prepare the minds of the august spectators at some 
 length for what they are about to witness. They are 
 warned that they are no longer in Ferrara, the happiest 
 and most peaceful of cities ; but in Susa, the crudo 
 albergo of every disaster and crime they can imagine. 
 Yet the interest of the piece does not wholly depend on 
 the horrors which it contains, and, as in most of these old 
 tragedies, many gems of poetry are to be found in the 
 "cori." 
 
 (2) The " CEdipo " of Anguillara, represented in 1565 at 
 Vicenza, on a wooden stage, constructed by Palladio for
 
 144 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the occasion, in which Luigi Groto,' commonly called 
 "II cie"co d'Adria"on account of his infirmity, played 
 the part of CEdipus. This man, although Wind from his 
 birth, became not only an actor of some merit, but also 
 wrote two tragedies considered worthy of a place in the 
 "Teatro Antico " "L' Adriana," and "La Dalida.' 
 The plot of the first of these is said, like Shakespeare's 
 " Romeo and Juliet " to which it bears a close affinity 
 to be founded on the novella " La Giulietta " of Luigi da 
 Porto ; and those who have the patience to read it through 
 will observe several points which resemble the favourite 
 English play. 
 
 (3) The "Antigone" of Luigi Alamanni, which was 
 honoured by a theatre constructed by Palladio, and further 
 adorned for its representation at Venice by twelve great 
 pictures for scenes, painted by Zuccaro himself. 
 
 (4) The " Soldato " of Angelo Leone (published 1550) 
 is mentioned not so much on account of any intrinsic 
 merit, as because it is supposed to have first suggested the 
 idea of a "tragedia cittadina," or domestic tragedy, a 
 pleasing variety from the " sceptred pall " with which the 
 Italians had hitherto invested the tragic muse. 
 
 (5) The "Acripanda," by Antonio Decio da Horte, 
 represented at Florence (1592), is again a departure from 
 the mythological track, but is none the less full of the 
 horrors and cruelties which an Egyptian plot can so well 
 suggest to the imagination ; yet the first scene of act iv., 
 where the murdered children appear as ghosts to comfort 
 their bereaved mother, is so pathetic that it almost com- 
 pensates for the horrors which lead up to it We subjoin 
 a few stanzas selected from Mr. Walker's admirable trans- 
 lation of this beautiful scene. 
 
 ACBIPANDA, CHOBUS, GHOSTS or THE TWINS. 
 
 Ghottt. 
 
 " Thou to whom our birth we owe, 
 Loved in life and in the tomb, 
 Turn and hear a tale of woe, 
 Turn and mark thy children's doom. 
 
 ' Born at Adria 1541, died at Venice 1585.
 
 THE ITALIAN DEAMA. 145 
 
 " Why lament to see us soar, 
 Where the tides of transport flow, 
 Gifted from the heavenly store 
 Far beyond our loss below ? 
 
 " Would you wish to lure us down, 
 Here to wander with the dead ? 
 Tho" the bright imperial crown 
 Sparkled ou each youthful head. 
 
 " Fickle chance no longer here 
 Runs her ever-changing round, 
 Sad misfortune's frown severe, 
 Never clouds the hallowed bound. 
 
 " Banish sorrow, banish fears, 
 Taint not thus our pure delight, 
 .Nor will unavailing tears 
 Deprecate our heavenward flight. 
 
 " May the fates benignant join 
 To thy life's allotted space, 
 All the long revolving line, 
 Severed from our hapless days." 
 
 Acripanda. 
 
 " Whither, denizens of air, 
 Whither do you flit away, 
 Your allotment to prepare, 
 In the realms of endless day ? " 
 
 Chorus. 
 
 " See ! they monnt, and now they go, 
 Like an arrow from the bow ; 
 Now they skim the starry bound ! 
 Now they pierce the blue profound ! 
 Melting now like vapours grey, 
 See the phantoms flit away, 
 Where their forms they seem to shroud 
 Deep in yon disparting cloud ! 
 High the heavenly portal glows; 
 Angels open angels close/' 
 
 WALKEB'S Historical Memoir on Hal. 
 Tragedy, p. 123. 
 
 (6) The " Merope " of Torelli-Torelli, who was the last 
 to make use of the " Coro Fisso." This ancient institu- 
 tion, which the Italians had copied from the Greeks, was 
 destined to give place to the new and popular invention 
 
 L
 
 146 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITKBATDRE. 
 
 of the " recitative." It is still undetermined where the 
 chorus was placed on the stage, but it was always accom- 
 panied by music of a solemn character, in the style of tho 
 choral church music of the period, sometimes even with 
 the addition of a dance to a slow measure, like the early 
 "Maggiolate " and " Carnascialeschi." 
 
 (7) The " Torrismondo " of Tasso, written during his 
 imprisonment at Bergamo (1587), sheds its lustre upon 
 this period of Italian tragedy. This has already been 
 mentioned in a former paper, 8 so we will not reconsider it 
 here, only pausing to observe that although an inferior 
 production of that great author, it is considered by Italian 
 critics far superior to the other dramas of the age. Al- 
 though many of the tragedies of this century obtained 
 high laurels at the time, few, if any, would now elicit 
 applause if they were once more put upon the stage. 
 The admiration then so universal for the ancient classical 
 theatre caused every effort to resemble it to be looked 
 upon with favourable eyes, nor did the dramatists remem- 
 ber that the difference of language, manners, and times 
 demanded a different kind of action and expression to that 
 chosen by the ancient writers, or that the rivers of blood 
 with which they chose to inundate the stage were any 
 drawback to the enjoyment of the spectators. It is 
 obvious that the long narratives which are to be found in 
 the Greek tragedies were ill-adapted for reproduction by 
 modern imitators, and that the use of the chorus had little 
 to recommend it to modern ideas. 
 
 It was however perhaps natural that the Italians should 
 begin by copying the Greek drama in order to prepare 
 the way for those great dramatic compositions which, 
 while they preserved the best features in the writings of 
 the ancient dramatists, would avoid the defects peculiar 
 to the customs and genius of their nation and times. 
 
 While the eaily tragedians of Italy, strictly bound by 
 classical rule, continued for nearly a century servile 
 followers and imitators of Sophocles and Euripides, in 
 their efforts to revive the tragic drama, the comedians 
 were no less victims to the same bondage. 
 
 8 See page 88.
 
 TEE ITALIAN DRAMA. 147 
 
 We have already seen how Ercole I. had caused the 
 plays of Terence and Plautus to be represented in the 
 theatre at Ferrara, first in their original language, and 
 afterwards in the literal translations of those classical 
 writers into Italian. 
 
 The next step was to compose original productions in 
 the Italian language, and it must be owned that good 
 comedies of this period are even rarer than tragedies 
 perhaps because the dignity of the subject and the im- 
 portance of tragic action served in some measure as a 
 cloak for the many defects of their composition. But 
 with comedy, where the personages often belong to plebeian 
 or private life, and where the action is more familiar and 
 domestic, a grace and vivacity of style and a happy inge- 
 nuity of plot are required to prevent the drama either 
 from degenerating into what is insufferably dull and 
 strained, or else from falling into the opposite defects of 
 coarseness and vulgarity. Lest the words or jokes should 
 fall flat, the actors would try to secure, by low and impu- 
 dent buffoonery, the approbation which the composition 
 itself could not command, until, when we take into 
 consideration the unrestrained licence of the age, we can 
 imagine to what depths comedy had to descend to obtain 
 applause of this nature. 
 
 But the blame does not belong to the actors alone. The 
 writers, servile in their imitation of their Greek models, 
 carefully copied their defects in this respect also. 
 
 " Des succes fortunes du spectacle tragique, 
 Dans Athenes naquit la comedie antique. 
 La, le Grec, ne moqueur, par mille jeux plaisants, 
 Distilla le venin de ses traits medisants. 
 Aux acces insolents d'une bouffonne joie, 
 La sagesse, 1'esprit, 1'honneur furent en proie." 
 
 BOILEAU, L'Art Poetique." 
 
 To judge from the best critics of Italian literature, it 
 would seem that these lines might well be applied to the 
 Italian comedians of this century. 
 
 It would be a fruitless task to inquire into the nume- 
 rous indifferent productions of the various Siennese 
 academies Dei Rozzi, Degli Intronati, Def/li Insensati 
 who made it their especial business to promote this kind 
 L 2
 
 148 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of comedy. These institutions were under the particular 
 patronage of Leo X., who, with a delight in this species 
 of representation scarcely becoming his position, sum- 
 moned them year by year to Rome to perform the comedies 
 < "injKjsed by their various members. 
 
 It La probable that Leo X. had early acquired this taste 
 from his tutor, Bernardo Dovizi da Bibbiena (born 1470, 
 died 1520), 9 the writer of the first Italian prose comedy, 
 " La Calandria." In the prologue Bibbiena defends 
 himself for having written in prose instead of verse, 
 declaring that the freedom of prose better befits the ease 
 of everyday life than the restraint of rhyme. Also, this 
 comedy " being intended for general representation to the 
 world at large, the author does not write in Latin, but in 
 the natural language which GOD has given us and which is 
 therefore not less worthy of esteem than Latin, Greek, 
 or Hebrew ; nor is our language inferior to any of these 
 if we polish it and bestow upon it the same care which 
 the Greeks bestowed upon theirs." Bibbitna was the 
 friend of Ariosto, Sadoleto, and Bembo, the patron of 
 Raphael, to whom his niece would have been married if 
 the world had not been deprived of this unrivalled painter 
 while yet in the flower of his youth. The " Calandria " 
 was represented for the first time before Henry II. of 
 France and Catherine de' Medici on the day of their solemn 
 ingress into Lyons, in the year 1548. 
 
 It is to be noted that the comedies of this century 
 were generally reserved for the festive occasions connected 
 with the births or marriages of the princes and princesses 
 of the various Italian States, where they were represented 
 with every kind of magnificent display. 
 
 We read of Alphonso I., Duke of Ferrara, causing a 
 theatre to be erected after a design of Ariosto for the 
 purpose of representing the comedies which were the 
 minor productions of that great genius. It is a question 
 whether Ariosto's comedy of " La Cassaria " did not pre- 
 cede " La Calandria " at all events they were nearly 
 contemporaneous. Ariosto may in truth be looked upon 
 as the real father of Italian comedy, for, with his powerful 
 
 His portrait by Raphael b No. 153 in the Pitti Gallery at 
 Florence.
 
 THE ITALIAN DEAMA. 149 
 
 intellect and all the bold confidence of genius, he struck 
 out a new path for the comedy of Italy, while her tragedy 
 was still labouring on in the old track. If he did avail 
 himself of the classic models, he made their ideas his own, 
 and then expressed them with native vigour and freedom, 
 using them with the same power, says an old writer on 
 the Teatro Antico, as Terence when he latinized the plays 
 of Menander. " La Cassaria " and " I Suppositi," two 
 plays composed when he was quite young and written in 
 prose, he afterwards remodelled and turned into verse so 
 that they could not be recognized. " La Cassaria " was 
 represented in 1517 ; " I Suppositi," in 1514; "II Negro- 
 mante," 1520; "La Lera," 1524; "La Scolastica" 
 (finished by his brother Gabriel), 1528. But the dis- 
 cussion of their merits and defects would more properly 
 belong to a paper which could treat of his great as well 
 as his minor works. 
 
 The only other writer of comedy of this century who 
 can dispute the palm with Ariosto, is his contemporary, 
 the great historian and statesman, Niccolo Macchiavelli 
 (born 1469, died 1527). 1 His comedies are considered 
 by his countrymen of an importance scarcely inferior to 
 his political and historical works, because they are written 
 not so much with the object of diverting the mind of the 
 reader, as with the intention of pointing still more forcibly 
 the observations and reflections of his greater works upon 
 the internal affairs of Florence. Macchiaveili did not 
 intend by his comedies to ridicule the worthless or hypo- 
 critical characters of the world in general, but those which 
 existed in Florence in his own time, with the practical 
 purpose of working an improvement in the religion, and 
 the public and private laws by which it was governed. 
 Thus his original comedies, " La Mandragola " and "La 
 Clizia " which must not be confounded with his literal 
 translations of Plautus and Terence have not only a 
 literary, but an historical value. 
 
 It was not to be supposed that this double claim upon 
 our attention would escape the notice of the great historian 
 and critic of our own time when, with his master hand, 
 
 1 Ariosto was born 1474, died 1533.
 
 150 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 he set himself to wipe away some of the hlack stains 
 which had so long clung to the character of Macchiavt-lli, 
 und to the policy which still bears his name. " The 
 ' Mandragola,' " says Lord Macaulay, " in particular is 
 superior to the best of Goldoni, and inferior only to the 
 best of Moliere. It is the work of a man who, if he had 
 devoted himself to the drama, would probably have 
 attained the highest eminence, and produced a permanent 
 and salutary effect on the national taste. . . . By the 
 correct and vigorous delineation of human nature, it 
 produces interest without a pleasing or skilful plot, and 
 laughter without the least ambition of wit ; " and speaking 
 of " La Clizia," he says : " Macchiavelli has executed his 
 task with judgment and taste. He has accommodated 
 the plot to a different state of society, and has very 
 dexterously connected it with the history of his own 
 times.* 
 
 We mxist refer our readers to one of the most brilliant 
 of Lord Macaulay's brilliant essays for a further analysis 
 of these two plays. Space will not admit of his criti- 
 cisms being cited at full length in these pages, and we 
 could not attempt to render their meaning in words other 
 than his own. 
 
 The Italian theatre of this century is marked by a 
 third order of dramatic representation generally supposed 
 to be of native origin and peculiar to Italy.* 
 
 The drammi pastorali cannot be classed with tragedy, 
 nor yet with comedy, for successfully avoiding the defects 
 and errors to which either of these are respectively liable : 
 they preserve a distinct character of their own. Neither 
 the princely and heroic personages who pace the stage of 
 "gorgeous tragedy," nor yet the more humble indi- 
 viduals of private and domestic life, who jostle one 
 another through the merry scenes of comedy, are ad- 
 mitted within their pale. The time and place belong to 
 
 8 "Critical and Historical Essays," vol. i. pp. 87-92. See also 
 Mr. Trevelyan's rf Life of Lord Macaulay," vol. i. p. 136. 
 
 3 Tiraboscbi declares that the only example of this kind of drama 
 among the ancient classics is the " Dafne " of a certain Sositeo, 
 whose origin, date, and country are alike unknown. Tir. vii. p. 
 1305.
 
 THE ITALIAN DEAMA. 151 
 
 the imaginary blissful age of gold, and the dramatis 
 personal are restricted to the shepherds, nymphs, ami 
 other simple characters of pastoral life of a refinement of 
 taste and perception equally imaginary. 
 
 The first attempt at the representation of a fable of 
 this kind was the " Cefalo " of Niccolo da Correggio, 
 and passing by some other instances not of sufficient 
 importance to be cited, we come to the Arcadian scene 
 of "II Sacrifizio " (1554), of Agostino Beccari the 
 " cori " of which were set to music by Alfonso della Yiola 
 the "Aretusa" (1563) of Albertino Lollio, and the 
 " Sf ortunato " of Agostini Argenti (1567). These were 
 all destined to be thrown into the shade by the beautiful 
 " Aminta " of Tasso, to whose merits attention has 
 already been drawn. 4 We only refer to it again that we 
 may call attention to the contrast presented by its un- 
 affected simplicity, purity of style, and natural grace 
 when compared with the artificial character of its per- 
 tinacious competitor the " Pastor Fido" of Guarini. 
 
 Battista Guarini (born 1537, died 1612), in more than 
 one point the rival of Tasso, has, however, shown no 
 lack of generosity towards him. Compassionating deeply 
 the grievous misfortunes of his fellow-poet, he had 
 himself corrected many of the grave errors which, owing 
 to the author's unhappy imprisonment, had crept into 
 the stolen editions of the " Gerusalemme Liberata," with 
 as mucli care as if the immortal poem had been his own 
 work. Guarini knew that it was not in his power to 
 rival Tasso on such ground as this, but with the " Aminta" 
 he thought he might successfully compete. He therefore 
 laboured assiduously on his "Pastor Fido," polishing and 
 repolishing the dialogues of his characters, transporting 
 into their pastoral abodes the manners and customs of 
 the Ducal Palace where he lived, making the shepherds 
 borrow the thoughts and language of statesmen, and 
 endowing the nymphs with a series of stilted phrases 
 sufficient to furnish a whole school of rhetoric, till, with 
 the exception of their names and their garments of skins, 
 nothing rural remained to declare their pastoral origin. 
 
 4 See page 74.
 
 152 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 From the very first scene Guarini's imitation of Tasso, 
 and his determination to place himself in opposition to 
 him, becomes apparent. Where Tasso's heroine (Sylvia) 
 rejects the counsel of her adviser, Guarini places his hero 
 (Sylvio) in an exactly similar position. Tasso had dis- 
 guised his own actual condition under the character of 
 " Tirsi," to expose his treatment at the Court of Ferrara. 
 Guarini, choosing the name of " Carino," avails himself 
 of the same means to compass the same end ("Pastor 
 Fido " act. v. sc. 1 ; " Aminta," act i. sc. 2). Finally 
 Guarini places himself in decided and direct opposition 
 to Tasso in the famous chorus from " Aminta," " bella 
 eta dell' oro " (act i. sc. 10 ; compare " Pastor Fido," 
 act iv. sc. 9), in which he imitates exactly the number 
 of strophes, the metre, and the rhyme of his great rival. 
 
 The " Aminta " does not pretend to be anything more 
 than a pastorale, and the unity, simplicity, and decision 
 of purpose suggested by the title are maintained through- 
 out the piece. The " Pastor Fido," on the other hand, 
 by the very complexity of the title of tragicommedia 
 pastorale, presents to our minds all the incoherent, 
 detached, and heterogeneous elements of which it is 
 composed, and which cannot be brought into unison by 
 the mere surface varnish of a polished style. The happy 
 grace and natural ease of the " Aminta " are ill exchanged 
 for the fantastic idealism, strained metaphors, and forced 
 sentiment of the ' Pastor Fido." But after pointing out 
 so many defects in the construction of the latter, it is 
 only fair to call attention to the poetical execution, which 
 is remarkable for harmony of verse, variety of metre, and 
 skilful use of the blank verse in which G uarini excelled. 
 Above all we must notice the famous and beautiful speech 
 of Mirtillo (act iii. sc. 1), beginning 
 
 " Primavera gioventu dell' anno ! " 
 
 which, had its author written nothing else, would in 
 itself have served to immortalize his name. 
 
 As may easily be imagined, a crowd of imitators 
 followed in the wake of Tasso and Guarini, but few, if 
 any, of their compositions have survived, and their names 
 are only to be found by referring to histories of literature.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 153 
 
 We must now pass on to the drammi musicali or, 
 as we should call it, the melodrama an invention as 
 peculiar to Italy as the pastorali we have just mentioned. 
 
 The writer is aware that these drammi musicali would 
 find a more fitting place in an essay on music. But, 
 leaving the consideration of their musical character in 
 other and abler hands, these papers will only treat of 
 their connection with the drama. The union of poetry 
 and music, dating from time immemorial, and reviving in 
 Italy with the troubadours and minstrels of the Middle 
 Ages, had step by step become more intimately connected, 
 the improvement in the one keeping pace with the ad- 
 vance ot the other. We read in the rt X)ivinaCommedia" 
 of Dante's Canzone, " Love that discourses in my 
 thoughts " (Purg. ii. 107, 108), being sung by Casella. 
 We next hear of Petrarch's " Trionfi " being adapted for 
 the musical festivities of the Carnascialeschi ; then we 
 have the cori of the tragedies and the intermezzi of the 
 comedies, while the madrigali of the pastorali of Tasso 
 and Guarini prove by their delicate harmony how emi- 
 nently the Italian language, now brought to its perfection, 
 would accord with song. 
 
 Here was the adaptation of music to poetry. 
 
 But as the science and theory of music became more 
 understood, its immense and wonderfiil capacities de- 
 veloped themselves till it ceased to be the subservient 
 art, and the poetry was composed with an especial regard to 
 the musical rendering of the drama. Florence, ever first 
 among the Italian States for brilliancy of invention, gave 
 birth to the society which was to unite in happy concord 
 the two sister arts of poetry and music. 
 
 Under the auspices of two Florentine nobles, distin- 
 guished alike in birth, literature, and musical science, 
 Giovanni Bardi (Conte di Vernio) and Vincenzo Galilei, 
 father of Galileo no less of a musician than his son, 
 and scarcely inferior to him as a mathematician Jacopo 
 Peri, and Girolamo Mei, famous musical theorists, this 
 combination was carried far on its road to perfection. 
 The Grand Dukes of Tuscany, ever liberal in their 
 patronage of the arts, lent every encouragement to a 
 society whose united efforts were eminently calculated to
 
 154 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 promote the splendour of the entertainments with which 
 they were wont 10 celebrate their marriage feasts. 5 
 
 The Conte di Vernio, poet as well as musician, pre- 
 pared more than one musical drama for occasions of 
 similar festivity. The strict character of these drammi 
 musicali consisted, it would seem, in intermezzi, or 
 musical interludes, introduced into the comedy chosen 
 for representation. The intermezzi had no connection 
 with the comedy, although with some ingenuity they 
 were made to represent in themselves a separate and 
 continuous story, which was carried on at the end of each 
 act of the drama. Thus, if the subjects, like those chosen 
 by the Conte di Vernio, were selected from mythology, 
 they were made to hang together, and to follow each 
 other in proper historical order. 
 
 Such was the nature of the first drammi musicali, but 
 a great step was yet to be made before they fulfilled the 
 idea which the name of musical drama or opera would 
 now suggest to our minds. 
 
 Hitherto the music employed for the intermezzi appears 
 to have been of the nature of part-songs, introduced 
 abruptly one after the other, with nothing to carry on the 
 idea of harmony, or lead from one passage to another ; 
 the music entirely ceasing, and then beginning again in 
 the same style. But continuous scenes carried on between 
 several characters in a musical language capable of at- 
 taining to the rapidity of dialogue and the force and 
 vigour of declamation, without ceasing to be music, and 
 whole compositions entirely planned on this scheme, this 
 had not yet been attained to, nor indeed was it to be 
 reached for many years. Songs there were, and a certain 
 knowledge of harmony and of the theory of music, but 
 the " recitative " was the final discovery of that age of 
 great? discovery, the sixteenth century. 
 
 Unhappily for himself, the Conte di Vernio, who had 
 done so much toward promoting the drammi musicali, 
 being summoned from Florence to Rome to attend on 
 Pope Clement VIII. , was unable to witness their 
 wonderful progress. His musical, dramatic, and literary 
 
 5 See Sir Robert Phillimore's translation of Lessing's ''Laocoon," 
 Preface, pp. 44, 45.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 155 
 
 society transferred itself to the house of Jacopo Corsi, 
 his worthy successor in Florence, under whose roof the 
 first "opera," "Dafne," was produced, in 1594. Ottavio 
 Rinuccini, the young poet of the day, wrote the libretto 
 with such an especial care and choice of words, both 
 with regard to poetry as well as music, that it is worth 
 reading on its own account. Giulio Caccini, the inventor 
 of the new musical language, to which Italian so eminently 
 lent itself, supplied the "recitative," and Jacopo Peri 
 composed the music. 
 
 The " Dafne " was immediately followed by another 
 drama of thj same nature, the " Euridice," with the more 
 ambitious title of tragedia per musica, which was repre- 
 sented in the year 1600 at the feast given at Florence in 
 honour of the marriage of Maria de' Medici with Henry 
 IV. of France. 
 
 The novelty of the invention which excited the general 
 wonder and curiosity of Florence, the fame of the literary 
 and musical society which produced it, the occasion of 
 the great festivity chosen for its representation, the 
 exactitude of the execution by the best musicians and 
 vocalists of the day ; last, but not least, the poetical 
 merit of the drama, which, up to the time of Metastasio, 
 had no rival in grace of expression or musical harmony 
 it will easily be imagined how all these circumstances 
 combined to render this dramatic spectacle one of the 
 most striking that Italy had yet witnessed. 
 
 It is a fact worthy of notice that, just as the " Orfeo " 
 of Poliziano had given the first impetus to the drama at 
 the close of the fifteenth century, so the same pathetic 
 tale was chosen to illustrate the new dramatic discovery 
 of the year 1600. 
 
 Thus ended the remarkable " Cinquecento." The fine 
 arts by Avhich it had been so conspicuously adorned 
 poetry, painting, and music were all united in the 
 melodrama, which, if by no means the most important, 
 was certainly not the least remarkable specimen of the 
 creative genius of the age. 
 
 But apart from a discovery whose individual merits 
 and relative effect upon the drama deserve separate con- 
 sideration, the Teatro Italiano Antico possessed tragedies
 
 156 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEBATURE. 
 
 which, never deficient in power or pathos, often attained 
 to the sublime, comedies by whose sparkling wit the vices 
 and follies of the age were held up to unsparing ridicule, 
 and pastorali, whose brilliant imagery, delicacy of thought, 
 and grace of expression can never cease to please even 
 now, when the taste for that peculiar kind of drama has 
 died away. 
 
 PART III. 
 
 THE MELODRAMA IN ITALY DURING THE SEVENTEENTH AND 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES APOSTOLOZENO METASTASIO. 
 
 A.D. 16001782. 
 
 " II faut aller a ce palais magique 
 Ou les beaux vers, la danse, la musiqu", 
 L'art de tromper les yeux par les couleurs, 
 L'art plus heureux de seduire les cceurs 
 De cent plaisirs fout un plaisir unique." 
 
 TIRABOSCHI, in the preface to his eighth volume, bids us 
 observe that whereas the literature of Italy during the 
 sixteenth century occupies three volumes of his history, 
 that of the succeeding age is easily comprised in one. Nor 
 does he attempt to disguise that whatever lustre this period 
 may derive from grave scientific discoveries, it is rightly 
 marked as an age of decadence in literature. 
 
 This remark seems particularly applicable to the drama 
 cf Italy, which, during this century, can stand no com- 
 parison with that of France, then carried to the zenith of 
 its fame by Corneille, Racine, and Moliere. Still, while 
 we admit this, it must be remembered that in the pre- 
 ceding age Italian tragedy and comedy had both attained 
 to a certain degree of merit before such compositions were 
 even known by name in France. 
 
 Although the general style of the Italian Dramatic 
 School of the seventeenth century is much to be deplored, 
 Tiraboschi considers that there are some few exceptions to 
 the rule which are worthy of passing notice. Several 
 tragedies published by the Bolognese Melchiore Zoppio 
 (died 1634), who was the founder of the Accademia de'
 
 THE ITALIAN DBAMA. 157 
 
 Gelati in Bologna : the " Tomiri " of Angelo Ingegneri, 
 though it has more claim to our sympathy as the composi- 
 tion of the friend who preserved Tasso's works from 
 destruction than on account of its own individual merit ; 
 the sacred Eappresentazione of "Adamo" by Andreini, 6 
 which is supposed to have suggested some of the most 
 sublime ideas of "Paradise Lost " the envy of Satan on 
 beholding man's happiness in Paradise (book v.), the 
 battle of the angels against Lucifer (vi.), the council of 
 demons (?'&.) : all these are to ,be found in the " Adamo," 
 whence it would seem that Milton has taken the gold, 
 leaving behind the dross which disfigures the Italian 
 tragedy. Two other rather obscure and unknown Italian 
 Rappresentazioni, " La Scena tragica d' Adamo e d' Eva," 
 by Troilo Benacense, and the " Angeleida " of Erasmo di 
 Valvasore, are said to have also furnished Milton with 
 some of those descriptive figures so unrivalled in their 
 richness, which adorn the " Paradise Lost." 7 The Italian 
 critics bestow some approbation on the " Tancredi " of 
 Rodolfo Campeggi (published 1614>, and the " Solimano " 
 of Prospero Bonarelli, a member of the Accademia degli 
 Umoristi, which, like the more ancient Siennese institu- 
 tions, was originally founded for the purpose of promoting 
 the comic drama. Some fifty sacred and profane dramas 
 by the Sicilian Ortensio Scamacca (died 1648) came next 
 in order, while Sarpi's rival historian of the Council of 
 Trent, the Cardinal Pallavicino, found relaxation from 
 his graver labours in writing a tragedy called " Ermen- 
 gildo." The list shall be completed by four tragedies, the 
 works of Cardinal Giovanni Delfino of which the first, 
 " La Cleopatra," was considered worthy of a place in 
 the "Teatro Italiano " and by the " Aristodemo" of 
 Carlo de' Dottori, represented in Paris, 1657, by a cele- 
 brated actor, " Pietro Cotta, detto Clelio," with the 
 intention of restoring the Italian tragedy to the high 
 position which it had once occupied. But it was a vain 
 effort, and still less can be said for the comedies of this 
 century, which had degenerated into the lowest kind of 
 
 6 Giovanbattista Andreini, born 1578, published his " Adamo " at 
 Milan. 1613, and dedicated it to Maria de' Medici. 
 
 ' See Walker's " Hist. Memoir of Italian Tragedy," pp. 160 175.
 
 158 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 buffoonery, without any attempt at unity of plot or 
 delineation of character, and were universally bad, with 
 the exception of "La Tancia" and "La Fiera," two 
 comedies by Michelangelo Buonarotti, a great-nephew of 
 the famous sculptor. 
 
 As to the pastorali, " La Filla di Sciro," by Guidobaldo 
 della Eovere, is considered the only specimen of the 
 seventeenth century which can bear any comparison with 
 the " Aminta " and the " Pastor Fido," those great original 
 models of this order of drama. Although if one of these, 
 the " Pastor Fido," is open to censure on the score of its 
 occasionally artificial and affected style, the " Filla di 
 Sciro " has copied this defect to an excess in accordance 
 with the prevailing bad taste of the seventeenth century. 
 
 The deterioration of the drama during this period must 
 in a great measure be ascribed to the predominant popu- 
 larity of the melodrama, which had the effect of almost 
 excluding for the time every other kind of dramatic 
 representation from the stage. But this unbounded popu- 
 larity, far from promoting the advance and improve- 
 ment of the new discovery, was so highly prejudicial to 
 it as almost to cause its total and immediate destruction. 
 
 The melodrama very early lost the charm with which it 
 had been invested by the graceful poetry of Einuccini and 
 the careful musical compositions of Caccini, Peri, and Mei. 
 In the hands even of their immediate successors, these 
 intellectual enjoyments were exchanged for the mere 
 wonder excited by startling scenical decorations, assisted 
 by an almost stupendous apparatus of machinery. 
 
 If the authors who immediately succeeded Einuccini 
 had been content to follow in his steps, and like him had 
 carefully weighed how far the effect of the melodrama 
 upon the imagination might safely be assisted by this 
 kind of scenic effect, they would have placed some check 
 on their inventive faculties, and would thus have esta- 
 blished a new kind of drama, pleasing to the fancy, 
 without being at variance either with sound judgment or 
 common sense. 
 
 .But as it was, everything wa& sacrificed to the wonder- 
 ful mise-en- scene. 
 
 The subjects were chosen for representation merely with
 
 THE ITALIAN DKAMA. 159 
 
 this object in view. On this account they were chiefly 
 taken from two sources the mythology of the ancients 
 and the romantic and legendary lore of the Middle Ages. 
 In this last especially an inexhaustible store of scenery was 
 to be found suggested by the enchanted palaces and forests, 
 the tournaments, feats of arms, and manifold adventures 
 of the knight-errant; while, of dramatis per some, there 
 was an equal abundance in the magicians, giants, and 
 dwarfs, fair maidens, and gallant knights and squires ever 
 ready to succour "Beauty brought to unworthy wretched- 
 ness through Envy's snares or Fortune's freaks unkind." 
 It was an easy step to transport into the drama 
 
 " Le donne, i cavalieri, 1' armi, gli amori, 
 La cortesie, 1' audaci imprese," 
 
 permanently engrafted into the literature of Italy by the 
 immortal poems of Ariosto and Tasso, and there to invest 
 them with all the pomp of splendid decoration and scenery 
 which naturally appertains to them. The music which 
 had now become inseparably connected with the poetry of 
 these dramatic representations, combined to enhance the 
 effect. But at first it was difficult to make the combina- 
 tion of the two arts assume either a natural or plausible 
 appearance before the unaccustomed eyes of the audience. 
 
 Therefore the authors in choosing their arguments, 
 either from the realms of fancy or mythology, purposely 
 sought to place as wide a difference as possible between 
 the spectators and the circumstances of the action of their 
 drama, so that the improbability of the musical dialogue 
 might not so conspicuously challenge the attention. Thus 
 if it was contrary to nature that the heroes and heroines 
 should sing their parts instead of speaking them, they 
 transformed their men and women into gods and goddesses; 
 if the earth was an unlikely place for such conversations 
 in music, they laid their scenes in the Elysium or Hades 
 of mythology. Abandoning as hopeless the chance of 
 awakening the interest of their audience by depicting 
 character and passion, they sought only to gratify their 
 eyes and ears, and despairing of satisfying their reason, 
 appealed instead to their imagination. 
 
 But if the advance of poetry and music was thus
 
 160 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 thwarted and hindered by the imperative necessity of 
 producing a drama which must depend for its success on 
 the magnificence of its scenic effects, painting and archi- 
 tecture were in the highest request. The art of perspec- 
 tive, so indispensable to create the space and distance 
 necessary to keep up the illusion of the scenery, was 
 carefully cultivated in the various schools of painting in 
 Italy, while architecture had ample space for its develop- 
 ment in theatres worthy of Ancient Rome, To cite only 
 two examples : The theatre at Piazzola, a small town ten 
 miles from Padua, erected by Marco Contarini, was par- 
 ticularly famous for its capacious stage. In 1680 and 
 1681 there were representations which brought upon the 
 scene triumphal cars, drawn by magnificent horses, 100 
 Amazons, and 100 Moors, hunts and tournaments, and 
 every gorgeous spectacle of the kind. The theatre of 
 Parma, built by the Duke Ranuccio Farnese, is perhaps 
 the most conspicuous example of all. It was designed in 
 the year 1618-19 by Giambattista Aleotti from an ancient 
 model, and not only the general plan, but all the details 
 were carefully fashioned from the classical accounts of 
 the Greek and Roman theatres. It was afterwards en- 
 larged by Bentivoglio, till in the year 1690, on the occa- 
 sion of the festivities given for the marriage of Odoardo 
 Farnese, it was calculated to contain 14,000 spectators. 
 To this day, it is said, may be seen the syphons and 
 conduits by means of which water, sufficient to float barks 
 of a considerable size, was turned on the scene. On 
 another occasion horses were made to perform military 
 evolutions in such numbers that they appeared to repre- 
 s'ent a real army. Notwithstanding its vast size the 
 acoustics of this vast building are said to have been so 
 perfectly managed that the ordinary tones of conversation 
 could be heard as distinctly at the opposite end of the 
 theatre as if shouted at the top of the voice. 
 
 Venice was especially distinguished among the cities of 
 Italy by the magnificence of her musical and dramatic 
 feasts, which prevailed during the carnival, and attracted 
 crowds of strangers to the city. One of these, "La 
 Divisione del Mondo." represented, 1675, by 'Giulio 
 Cesare Corradi in the theatre of S. Salvadore, is a striking
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 161 
 
 example of this kind of drama. Another, the " Pastore 
 d' Anfiso," displayed the Palace of the Sun, built in 
 perfect architectural proportions, of crystals of dazzling 
 brilliancy. A third, " II Dario," by Francesco Beverini, 
 portrayed various striking scenes in the life of the Eastern 
 monarch, his camp with elephants carrying towers filled 
 with armed soldiers, the palace and terrace at Babylon, 
 the pavilion of the king, the mausoleum of Ninus, and 
 numerous cavalry and infantry drawn up in battle array. 
 The " Glorie di Firenze " and the splendours of " II Cielo 
 di Cristallo " smiled on the nuptials of the Grand Duke of 
 Tuscany, while the royal palace at Turin was turned into a 
 theatre to represent with due effect the various scenes of 
 the double drama of " II Vascello della Felicita e 1' Arianna." 
 
 It was indeed no wonder that an invention which com- 
 bined the arts of poetry, music, painting, and architecture 
 should have had such universal success and should have 
 spread with marvellous rapidity over all the countries of 
 Europe. France, Spain, England, Germany, and Kussia 
 lost no time in making this new and wonderful discovery 
 their own. 
 
 But this paper can only afford to sketch, and that very 
 slightly, its rise and progress in Italy. 
 
 The " melodrama," even in the debased form which it 
 assumed during this century, was not only pleasing to 
 the Italians on account of its novelty and varied charms, 
 but also because it tilled the total dramatic void of this 
 period. The " Teatro Antico " had enthely decayed, and 
 the theatre which then existed had, as we have seen, 
 nothing to offer, either in tragedy or comedy, worthy of 
 representation. It was, therefore, only natural that they 
 should turn to the "melodrama," which held out so 
 tempting and pleasing a prospect. 
 
 In this way its very defects, the extravagant scenic 
 decoration, and the elaborate machinery by which it was 
 oppressed and stifled during the seventeenth century, 
 came to be considered as merits. The plot and style of 
 the drama ceased to be of any importance, and the poets 
 and musicians only vied with one another as to which 
 could produce the greatest number of wonderful spec- 
 tacles in one piece upon the stage. 
 
 M
 
 162 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 But it was not in the nature of the divine arts of 
 poetry and music to remain for any length of time in this 
 slavish subserviency. Their triumph became directly 
 manifest when' the true poet and musician with heaven- 
 born gifts arose to assert their claims, and the mere 
 accessories of the melodrama assumed their right pro- 
 portions, and fell back into their proper place. No sooner 
 did Apostolo Zeno appear than the taste for extravagant 
 scenery began to givo place to a desire for a higher order 
 of dramatic composition. He was the first to replace the 
 drama on its ancient footing of majestic decorum, to be 
 quickly foUowed by Metastasio, whose melodious poetry 
 was seconded by such sweet harmony as the great masters 
 of the Neapolitan school of music knew best how to 
 produce. But we must not omit to give a few moments' 
 consideration to the poet who first prepared the way for 
 this the climax of perfection in the melodrama. 
 
 Apostolo Zeno was born in Venice in 1669. His 
 father, Pietro Zeno, was a doctor of medicine ; his 
 mother, Catarina, belonged to the family of the Sevasti. 
 His graver studies in history and various abstruse 
 sciences the fruit of which appears in his " Giornale de' 
 Letterati," still highly thought of in Italy did not inter- 
 fere with his attaining his greatest celebrity in that 
 reform of the melodrama, already alluded to, which was 
 so urgently needed. The graceful poetry of his lyric 
 jompositions recommended him to the notice of the 
 Emperor Charles VI., who summoned him to Germany, 
 intending to make him pott laureate of the Imperial 
 Court. Charles VI. exercised an influence on the melo- 
 drama at the period of its revival so special as to be 
 worthy of attention. It will be noticed by those who 
 read the works of Apostolo Zeno and Metastasio that, 
 with very rare exceptions, they have always been careful 
 to bring their dramas to a happy conclusion, and the 
 reason of this is easily explained. Both poets were 
 under the direct influence of the Emperor, and were well 
 aware that their patron could not endure a tragical end 
 to the melodrama. He wished it laid down as a rule 
 that in this order of dramatic composition the last im- 
 pression left upon the minds of the audience should
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 163 
 
 never be a melancholy one. The Imperial opinion be- 
 came a law to the great masters of the reformed melo- 
 drama, and thus, in their hands, a guiding principle to 
 their successors. Apostolo Zeno during his residence at 
 the Imperial Court received constant marks of the 
 Emperor's favour, for when he declined to displace the 
 poet laureate of the day by accepting the honour which 
 had been offered to him, the Emperor made him his 
 historian. But notwithstanding these flattering distinc- 
 tions, notwithstanding the deserved popularity of his 
 dramas, II Zeno felt a longing which he could not re- 
 strain to end his days in his native country. He 
 obtained leave to return to Venice, there to enjoy the 
 full stipend of his office, under the sole obligation of 
 supplying the Imperial Court with a new drama every 
 year. He died in 1750 at Venice. We must pass over 
 his more profound labours, his various biographies, his 
 indefatigable efforts to improve the Italian language, his 
 careful researches among old manuscripts, to speak of 
 his dramas, with which this paper is especially concerned. 
 In all these compositions, and they were sufficiently 
 numerous to fill ten volumes, Apostolo Zeno was particu- 
 larly careful in the choice of his "arguments." Tho- 
 roughly acquainted with historical lore, whenever its 
 pages offered striking examples either of patriotic zeal, 
 desire for glory, generosity of soul, fortitude in adversity, 
 faithful friendship or tender compassion, he made use of 
 them as fitting subjects for the drama in place of the 
 extravagant nonsense which had been generally chosen 
 for representation during the preceding century. His 
 style is considered correct and sustained, his imagination 
 fertile, his plots carefully developed. Sacred subjects 
 were treated by him with a care and reverence hitherto 
 unknown, for even in the spiritual oratorios first intro- 
 duced by San Filippo Neri, at Rome, although the music 
 was the work of the great masters, the poetry was con- 
 sidered of little or no consequence, and intrusted to 
 indifferent writers. Apostolo Zeno bent all his powers 
 to the task of investing the sacred dramas, so far as it 
 was possible, with all the solemnity and dignity which 
 their subjects would inspire. " II Giuseppe," " II Sisara," 
 M 2
 
 164 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 "II Danielo," "L' Ezechia," "Davide," contain some 
 remarkably fine passages, and the paraphrase of the first 
 chapter of Isaiah 8 in the " Prof ezie d' Isaia " is very 
 striking : 
 
 " Cieli, udite, udite o genti : 
 Jddio parla. Attenti, attenti 
 Ho nndriti ed ho esaltati 
 Figli iniqui, e tigli ingrati. 
 
 " II giumento e il hue comprese, 
 Nel presepio il suo gran Dio. 
 Nol conobbe e non 1' iutese 
 Israello, il popol uiio," &c. 
 
 Still it must be owned that Apostolo Zeno is more to 
 be praised for the laborious industry with which he raised 
 the melodrama out of the deplorable state into which it 
 had fallen than for any very remarkable genius. Critics 
 have found considerable fault with his dramas for the 
 length of the scenes, the unnecessary multiplication of 
 incidents, often sufficient, to furnish two or three tragedies, 
 the dryness and stiffness of his characters, and an occa- 
 sional harshness of versification in passages intended for 
 recitative. Perhaps, however, these defects did not seem 
 so conspicuous till Metastasio appeared to complete with 
 his unmistakable genius the reform which Zeno had 
 begun, and to carry the melodrama to a perfection which 
 it has since been impossible to surpass. 
 
 Pietro Trapassi called Metastasio was born in Rome, 
 January 28th, 1698. His parents, of humble origin and 
 scanty means, stinted them.-elves in everyway to provide 
 for his instruction in the lirst rudiments of education. 
 From his eaikVst years he was accustomed to recite scraps 
 of Italian poetry. It is said that, when one day declaim- 
 ing a favourite piece, he was accidentally overheard by 
 Vittorio Gravina, one of the tragedians who had en- 
 deavoured, though without success, to raise the tone of 
 the drama of the seventeenth century. Gravina knew 
 how to appreciate in others the talents in which he 
 was himself deficient. He undertook to educate the 
 young Trapassi, and, having obtained the parents' 
 
 8 " H-'ar, O hea veils, and give ear, O earth, for the Lord hath 
 spokt-n," &c.
 
 THE ITALIAN DKAMA. 165 
 
 leave, finally adopted him as his son. He changed his 
 name from "Trapassi" to " Metastasio," a Greek word 
 which, heing equivalent to " trapassamento " i.e. a 
 transition from one state to another was probably 
 selected partly as a play upon the old name of his protege, 
 and partly with reference to his change of circumstances. 
 The patron had no occasion to repent of his benevolence. 
 His adopted child, with every external advantage of looks 
 and manner, a countenance beaming with intelligence, a 
 sweet and melodious voice, was a general favourite, and 
 his extraordinary gifts soon made him famous in Rome. 
 Gravina was careful to cultivate the early promise of his 
 talents by an excellent classical education ; he encouraged 
 him. to employ them in original compositions, and the 
 tragedy of " Giustino " (the only tragedy ever written by 
 Metastasio) was composed at the age of fourteen, in 
 compliance with his patron's request 9 The plot was 
 taken from Trissino's " Italia Liberata," and the young 
 author is scarcely to be blamed if he fell into the 
 errors of languor and heaviness which had marred the 
 original poem. Still the " Giustino " contains sufficient 
 merit to make it an astonishing production for so young a 
 writer, and to excite regret that he should never, in his 
 more mature years, have attempted another tragedy. 
 Metastasio, in common with the great classical poets of 
 Italy, was destined for the law, and pursued with diligence 
 the dry and difficult study of jurisprudence. But in 1718 
 the death of his patron left him at liberty to follow his 
 own inclinations, which speedily diverged into those more 
 pleasant paths of learning, the ancient classics and those 
 of his own country. Among the latter Torquato Tasso 
 was ever his favourite. Gravina filled up the measure of 
 his benevolence by making his adopted son heir to all his 
 worldly possessions, so that Metastasio was no longer in 
 need of a profession to earn his livelihood. Among his 
 numerous writings a touching tribute of gratitude to his 
 patron is to be found in the poem, "La Strada della 
 
 9 Metastasio protested against the publication of this tragedy 
 with his other works, as quite unworthy to see the liyht. " Opera," 
 vol. x. p. 3. Paris edition of 1782.
 
 166 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Gloria," * written immediately after the death of Gravina, 
 in which Gravina (whom he apostrophizes with the fondest 
 affection) appears to him in a dream, and bids him follow 
 without ceasing the path of fame. The genius of Meta- 
 stasio taught him that his special gifts would find their 
 best scope in the improvement of the melodrama. This, 
 once again brought within the rules observed by Einuccini 
 in his " Dafne," and enhanced by music like that which 
 was composed for it by Peri, Caccini, and Mei, appeared 
 to Metastasio to offer a wide field for his exertions, and a 
 prospect of new and glorious laurels. But his scheme 
 met with a sudden check. Unaccustomed to wealth, and 
 consequently believing that his inheritance could have no 
 limit, he, in a short time, squandered so much of his 
 fortune that he found himself once more compelled, by 
 absolute necessity, to return to the study of the law, which 
 he had abandoned with such delight. Leaving Rome 
 and the false friends who had led him into his extravagant 
 way of life, he repaired for this purpose to Xaples, at 
 that time famous for its school of jurisprudence. There 
 were, however, other schools at Naples more congenial to 
 Metastasio's taste. Three out of the four famous musical 
 Conservatorios 2 were still in existence, and among the 
 pupils at that time were Gaetano, Jomelli, Caldara, Predieri, 
 and Vinci, who would one day set his dramas to music. 
 
 Naples was in a state of festive gaiety to celebrate the 
 birth of a daughter to the Emperor Charles VI., and 
 Metastasio was selected as the poet to compose the drama 
 which was to be represented in honour of the occasion. 
 It was in vain that he refused, and at last, on the con- 
 dition of his secret being strictly kept from his master of 
 jurisprudence, he wrote " Gli Orti Esperidi," his first 
 melodrama. The universal applause excited by this 
 drama made it impossible to keep the author's name a 
 
 1 Vol. iii. p. 475. 
 
 " Del buon Maestro 51 venerate aspetto, 
 Riconosco la guancia scolorita, 
 Del lungo studio," &c., &c. 
 
 - 1. Conservatorio del Poveri di Gesti Cristo. 2. Conservatorio 
 di San Onofrio. 3. Conservatorio di Santa Maria di Loreto. 4. 
 Conservatorio della Piet& dei Turchini.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 167 
 
 secret ; more especially as the famous cantatrice, Maria 
 Bulgarini, called " La Romanina," who had acted the 
 part of Venus, declared she would leave no stone unturned 
 till she had discovered the name of the poet who had 
 won her such a shower of laurels. When at last her 
 efforts were crowned with success, she used all her arts to 
 persuade him to dedicate himself exclusively to the com- 
 position of the melodrama, for which he appeared to have 
 so remarkable a talent. Metastasio could not withstand 
 her urgent entreaties ; he finally abandoned the law, and 
 gave himself once more heart and soul to an occupation 
 for which he was in every way so eminently fitted. La 
 Bulgarini insisted upon receiving him into her own family 
 during the interval which must elapse before he could 
 earn a sufficient livelihood by his new profession, and 
 showered benefits upon him. At her house he learned 
 from the great Porpora some of the science of music, and 
 thus stimulated and encouraged, he wrote " La Didone 
 Abbandonata,'' in which La Bulgarini again performed 
 the heroine's part, and drew tears from the eyes of the 
 audience. It was afterwards represented in Russia before 
 the Empress Catharine II., being set to music on that 
 occasion by Galuppi of Venice. The Empress, at the 
 conclusion of the piece, sent the great composer a present 
 of a casket of rubies with a message to the effect that the 
 unfortunate Dido, at the point of death, had left them as a 
 legacy to him. La Bulgarini next transferred herself and 
 family, always accompanied by her protege, to Venice, and 
 thence to Rome, where Metastasio's next composition, " Ca- 
 tone in Utica," was represented. This drama was an excep- 
 tion to the now accepted law that the melodrama should 
 end happily, and was censured on that account. Shortly 
 after its representation a squib appeared inviting " La 
 Compagnia della Morte " to give the corpse of Cato, now 
 lying dead in the theatre, " a decent burial." Metastasio, 
 nothing daunted, produced for the carnival of 1729 
 "L'Ezio" and "La Semiramide," in the following year, 
 " L' Alessandro nelle Indie," and " L' Artaserse," which 
 have all been set to music, 3 some by good, some by indif- 
 
 3 Forty different compositions of " Artaserse," and thirty-six of 
 "Alessandro," are quoted iu Clement's " Dictioanaire Lyrique."
 
 1G8 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ferent masters. Later in life he improved these dramas, 
 which, when they first appeared, had some of the defects 
 of his early marner, a too artificial style, an intricacy of 
 plot, and an occasional weakness of dialogue. By this 
 time his fame was widely spread, and Apostolo Zeno, on 
 taking leave of the Emperor, begged to propose as his 
 successor the " best dramatic poet of Italy," the author of 
 " Didone " and " Artaserse." Metastasio was, in conse- 
 quence, invited to the Imperial Court (1729) to fill the 
 proud position of " Poeta Cesareo," with the offer of an 
 annual salary of three thousand florins. 
 
 His first composition at Vienna was the oratorio of " S. 
 Elena al Calvario," a sacred drama on " The Invention of 
 the Cross," 4 set to music by Caldara, and represented in 
 the Imperial Chapel during the Holy Week 1731. lu 
 this, as in all of his sacred dramas, there are many beau- 
 tiful passages. 5 Those taken from the Old Testament 
 are " Giuseppe riconosciuto," 6 " L' Isaaco," 7 " La Morte 
 d' Abele, Gioas," 8 in which he is said to have borrowed 
 some ideas from Racine's "Athalie." That from the New 
 Testament, for the " Santissimo Natale," recalls some of 
 the varied and beautiful ideas of Milton's " Ode on the 
 Nativity." In that same year he composed "L 1 Olim- 
 piade" and " II Demofoonte," two of his masterpieces, 
 Avritten in the best period of his second manner, showing 
 more precision and simplicity in the dialogue, a greater 
 sobriety of narration, and a combination of vigour and 
 delicacy in the ariette. In 1734 Metastasio was engaged 
 upon another sacred drama, " La Betulia Liberata," treating 
 of Judith and Holoferncs, when intelligence reached him 
 of the death of his friend and patroness, La Bulgarini, 
 also that she had left him all her worldly possessions. 
 But Metastasio at once renounced this second inheritance 
 in favour of the husband of the famous cantatn'ce. He 
 was deeply affected by the death of one who had been so 
 
 4 Observed in onr Calendar, September 14. 
 
 s " Giuseppe riconnsciuto," Metastasio, " Opere," vol. iii. pp. 33, 
 54, 61. " Morte d' Abele," ibid. 78, 82, 101. 
 Set to music by Predieri, represented 1740. 
 ~' Set to niuic by Porsili, represented 1733. 
 * Set to music by Heutter, represented 1735.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 169 
 
 real a benefactress, to whom, in fact, he owed his present 
 fame, and "La Betulia Liberata" bears the stamp of the 
 sorrow which her loss occasioned in him. It contains 
 arguments worthy of a theologian as to the belief in the 
 true God, winding up with the conclusive reply to the 
 idolater's disbelieving questions, 
 
 " Se Dio veder tu vuoi 
 Guardalo in ogni oggetto, 
 Cercalo nel tuo petto, 
 Lo troverai con te. 
 
 " E, se dov' ei dimora 
 Non intendesti ancora, 
 Confondinii, se puoi, 
 Dimmi dov' Ei non e." l} 
 
 He borrows all the ornaments of Eastern imagery to 
 enrich his dialogue, while the beauty of the inspired 
 words, " Sing unto the Lord, for He hath triumphed glo- 
 riously," are recalled to bur minds by the chorus 
 
 " Lodi al gran Dio, che oppresse 
 Gli empj nemici suo, 
 Che combatte per noi 
 Che trionta cosi." 
 
 "La Clemenza di Tito" (set to music by Caldara) was 
 another production of this year, which Voltaire esteemed 
 so highly as to declare that it rivalled the most sublime 
 passages of Corneille and the most finished touches of 
 Racine. Many others followed in quick succession, among 
 others "Le Cinesi," his single comic opera. 
 
 In 1736, on the occasion of the marriage of Maria 
 Theresa with Francis, Duke of Lorraine, he wrote one of 
 his cleverest and most amusing dramas, " L' Achille in 
 Sciro," in which, by representing the hero as torn in 
 pieces by the passion of love contending with the desire 
 for military glory, he seized the opportunity of paying the 
 bridegroom a graceful compliment. It was not thrown 
 away upon Francis, who in return offered to make the 
 
 9 " La Betulia Liberata," parte seconda, p. 545. The writer hits 
 refrained from translating Metastasio's ariette, partly because they 
 would lose ?o much of their grace and delicacy in the process, partly 
 because they are so simple in their beauty that anyone can under- 
 stand tliem.
 
 170 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 poet count, baron, privy-councillor, anything, in short, he 
 liked. But Metastasio refused all honours, and continued 
 steadily at work upon his dramas, which had now obtained 
 a European fame. The death of Charles VI., the Seven 
 Years' War which ensued, public calamities, and private 
 infirmities arrested his labours for a time, but resuming 
 them in 1749, he finished his "Attilio Regolo," and sent 
 it to Hasse to be set to music. It was his favourite pro- 
 duction, and he used to declare that if he could only have 
 saved one out of all his dramas, he would have chosen the 
 "Attilio." To the general reader it does not offer so much 
 attraction as many others. After this his poetical genius 
 did not reach any loftier summit of perfection. He sus- 
 tained his second manner through the " Re Pastore," the 
 "Trionfo di Clelio," the " Nittetti," "Kornolo," "L'Ate- 
 naide," and " L' Egeria," composed for the coronation of 
 the Emperor Joseph, in which Maria Theresa said she 
 recognized the undiminished vigour of his great genius. 1 
 But in his declining years he had a third manner inferior 
 to the second, of which "La Festa Teatrale" and "II 
 Ruggiero" are the most favourable specimens. Two odes, 
 one of sympathy with the Empress on the loss of her 
 husband, the other in praise of her villa at Schonbrunn, 
 procured him two notes of graceful compliment from 
 Maria Theresa ; 2 nor must we pass over the slight thread 
 which connects him with the youngest Archduchess of 
 Austria, afterwards the beautiful Dauphine, and finally 
 the noble and hapless Queen of France. The undying 
 sympathy which her fate must ever excite bids us pause 
 with affectionate interest over the well-known couplet 
 with which Metastasio ushered her birth into the world, 3 
 and the graceful " Cornplimenti," as they were called, 
 which he wrote for her to repeat when only five years, to 
 celebrate her parents' respective birthdays, in the year 
 
 1 Vol. vi., " Opere di Metastasio," p. 260. 
 
 2 Ibid., p. 263. 
 
 3 Vol. xi. p. 273. To the Empress Maria Theresa : 
 
 " lo perdei : 1' augusta Figlia 
 A pagar mi ha condannato 
 Ma s' e ver die a Voi somijrlU, 
 Tutto il mondo ha guadagnato.''
 
 THE ITALIAN DBA MA. 171 
 
 1760. They were set to music by Hasse, and arranged 
 by Metastasio as a miniature drama, to be performed by 
 the two sisters, Maria Carolina, afterwards Queen of 
 Naples, and Marie Antoinette. The heavier of the two 
 parts seems to have fallen on Maria Carolina, then eight 
 years old, who tries to prepare her sister for the august 
 ceremony, to which the youngest archduchess replies 
 
 " Prepararmi e perche ? 
 
 Arciduchessa 1. Che dirai ? 
 
 Arciduchessa II. Io gli dird che 1' amo, 
 
 Ch' essergli cara io brarno, 
 Che m' ami io gli diro, 
 Ch' altro nel cor non ho." 4 
 
 In the beautiful edition of Metastasio, published at 
 Paris in 1780, and dedicated to Queen Marie Antoinette, 
 a few graceful stanzas by Giuseppe Pezzana recall to her 
 memory how in her childhood Metastasio used to teach 
 her his soave note, and beg her to smile upon this new 
 edition of his works from that lofty throne which she 
 now adorns with every grace and virtue. 
 
 After the death of Maria Theresa, the Emperor Joseph 
 continued to extend the same favours to Metastasio 
 which he had enjoyed during the two preceding reigns, 
 but his long and distinguished life was fast drawing to a 
 close, and on the 12th of April, 1782, he died at Vienna, 
 in the eighty-fourth year of his age. 
 
 Metastasio is considered by the greatest of his native 
 critics to have surpassed all the other dramatic poets of 
 Italy in the delicacy with which he painted the passions, 
 and the refinement with which he has expressed the 
 affections of his dramatis per sonce. There is no depth of 
 the soul which his eloquence does not reach, no secret 
 feeling which does not respond to his touch, and on this 
 account he was prized by all readers, of all ages, and all 
 conditions of life. This tender feeling may be said to be 
 the leading feature of all his poetical works ; but although 
 his lyrics 5 would alone have won for him distinguished 
 laurels, his fame really rests upon his dramas, which of 
 
 4 Vol. xi. p. 256. 
 
 5 See especially his Ode to the Spring. " Gia riede Primavera," 
 " Opere," vol. ii. p. 525.
 
 172 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 their special kind are models of excellence. The plot of 
 each drama naturally and simply unfolds itself a verse, 
 a word even, often suffices to make it clear. From the 
 very beginning he is careful to inform the audience 
 what it is needful for them to know, xplaining the past 
 and present, and preparing the way for the future with 
 an ease and a dexterity quite unrivalled by any other 
 dramatic poet. The opening scenes of the " Temistocle " 
 and the " Artaserse " are worth referring to as specimens 
 of this peculiar merit. The dialogue is smooth and rapid, 
 avoiding equally the long narratives of the tragedians of 
 the sixteenth century, and the ambitious ornaments of 
 the modern French school, and bringing that vivacity of 
 action on the scene which is the very life of dramatic 
 representation. The plots are so carefully worked out 
 that even those melodramas which were prepared with an 
 especial view to musical rendering can be given, equally 
 well and with the same effect, when merely recited. He 
 has left his own opinion on record as to the secondary 
 place which music should occupy in the melodrama. 
 " When music," he says, " aspires to hold a position of 
 equal importance with poetry in the drama it ruins the 
 drama as well as itself. It would be as great an absurdity 
 to suppose that the dress of the person is of as much 
 consequence as the individual himself. My dramas are 
 proved, throughout Italy, by daily experience, to be more 
 sure of a good reception when recited by actors than 
 when musically rendered." 6 In this same letter he refers 
 to the amount of music employed in the old Greek 
 tragedies, a subject upon which he enlarges at full length 
 in his careful extract from the " Poetics " of Aristotle. 
 This extract, or rather analysis, was made in the first 
 instance for his own instruction to guide him in the com- 
 position of his dramas, according to those strict rules of 
 art which he was always careful to maintain. It was 
 afterwards printed at the request of his friends. The 
 operas Avhich are best known to have been also declaimed 
 are the " Didone," the " Clemenza di Tito," " Siroe," 
 " Catone in Utica," " Demofoonte," and " Alessandro 
 
 6 " Littere sopra la Musica," vol. ix. p. 365.
 
 THK ITALIAN DRAMA. 173 
 
 nelle Indie." Goldoni, in his youth, was asked, when 
 at Feltri, to choose a drama for representation, and he 
 selected the " Didone " and the " Siroe," which were 
 represented, but senza musica misi soltanto le arie in 
 recitative.? On these occasions the final choruses were 
 omitted, but the airs were retained as connecting links 
 of the dialogue. Indeed the Italian language, whose 
 very prose is poetry, and whose poetry is music, almost 
 naturally falls into recitative, and the ease with which 
 Metastasio's compositions adapt themselves either to the 
 opera or the drama would seem to prove this point. 
 Again, the constant transposition of the parts of speech 
 gives the Italian language an immense advantage, when 
 employed either in oratory, poetry, or music, because the 
 arrangement of the words is not governed by the natural 
 order of the ideas, but according as the rounding of the 
 period best pleases the ear. Take, for example, the 
 opening lines of the " Orlando Furioso," already once 
 cited in this paper, " Le donne, i cavalieri," &c. Every 
 one perceives how the harmony of the verse is perfected 
 by placing the words " io canto" at the end. Place 
 them at the beginning, in their natural grammatical 
 position, and who would recognize the pen of the im- 
 mortal Ariosto ? Of course this, like every other rhetorical 
 art, is liable to be abused, as in truth it was by the 
 " Cinquecentisti," the " Speronis," " Dolces," and " Casas" 
 of the sixteenth century. But Metastasio knew well how 
 to avail himself of this inversion peculiar to the Italian 
 language without carrying it to excess. He knew also 
 how to make full use of the other great facilities for 
 poetry in which it was naturally prolific, the imitative 
 character of its phrases, the richness and variety of its 
 terminations, the flexibility afforded by the augmentatives 
 and diminutives, and profiting by each and all of the?e 
 advantages, he wove them into a style so clear and 
 sparkling, into verses so flowing and melodious, that 
 without the effort of learning them they remain indelibly 
 impressed on the mind. Not only did Metastasio over- 
 come the difficulty of expressing with freedom and vigour 
 
 ' " Mem. del Sig. Goldoni," t. i. p. 98.
 
 174 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in poetry those shades of affection and desire which it 
 would have been no easy task to clothe in the ordinary 
 language of prose, but he also contended successfully 
 with the difficulty especially connected with his order of 
 poetry, namely, that of adapting it to the music on which 
 the success of the melodrama must in a great measure 
 depend. Every sort of arbitrary rule interfered to 
 hamper his genius the supposed necessity of limiting 
 each drama to a certain number of verses, of making each 
 scene end with an air ; the prohibition that one air should 
 follow another on the lips of the same personage, the 
 restriction of the recitative, within brief limits broken by 
 the alternate speeches of each person as he appears on the 
 scene, and many other artificial and irksome laws, which, 
 however unnecessary they may appear, had to be care- 
 fully considered and adhered to by the then writers of 
 the musical drama. These were some of the difficulties 
 with which he battled, and over which he won so com- 
 plete a triumph, that Italy is not only indebted to him 
 for his compositions as a poet, but also for the high 
 summit of mvisical perfection attained by the melodrama 
 during this century. 
 
 The famous composers of the age were no doubt to 
 a great extent inspired by Metastasio's genius. They 
 caiight, as it were, the rays of his brilliant poetical fancy, 
 in order to reflect them and repeat them in their own 
 divine art ; and no one ever succeeded better than 
 Metastasio in making the Italian language lend itself to 
 the requirements of music. Discarding all words which 
 were unsuitable for song, either from their length or from 
 the harshness of their sound, he chose only those which 
 by their sweetness, or by the position of their accent, as 
 ardl, piegb, sara, were peculiarly adapted for musical 
 rendering. He divides the verses to shorten the periods 
 and render the pause more agreeable ; he makes a discreet 
 use of the rhyme, so as to please the ear, without be- 
 coming monotonous. Then, seconded by music, he has 
 the art of making his verses exactly accord with the 
 affections he wishes to describe. If he would paint the 
 enervating influence of the tender passion, each line seems 
 to shadow forth the fulness of a feeling which can scarcely
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 175 
 
 find utterance in speech ; 8 the full, quick throb of 
 courage, and his words succeed each other with bounding 
 rapidity ; 9 the delighted measure of hope ; the low, sullen 
 sounds of despair ; the loud clash of anger ; the dread 
 blast of revenge ; the soul-subduing voice of dejected 
 pity ; the veering song of jealousy, which now courted 
 love, now, raving, called on hate ; or the mingled measure 
 of pale melancholy, which stole 
 
 " O'er some haunted stream with fond delay 
 Bound a holy calm diffusing, 
 Love of peace and lonely musing 
 In hollow murmurs died away." l 
 
 Thoroughly understanding the character of the opera, 
 Metastasio knew how to make it combine the claims of 
 lyrical and dramatic poetry. It is to be noticed how 
 carefully he reserves his figures and metaphors for his 
 narrative and descriptive scenes, never employing them 
 when he wishes to make the affections speak. How rarety 
 lie introduces his comparisons into the recitative, leaving 
 them for the ariette when the music requires imagery and 
 warmth. We will select only one, and that the most 
 perfect specimen, of the countless examples of lyric beauty 
 which his dramas afford. 
 
 " L' onda dal mar divisa 
 Bagna la valle, il monte 
 Va Passagiera 
 
 In Fiume, 
 Va Prigionera 
 
 In Fonte. 
 
 Mormora sempre, e geme 
 Finche non torna al mar, 
 Al Mar dov' ella nacque, 
 Dove acquisto gli umori, 
 Dove dai lunghi errori 
 Spera di riposar." 2 
 
 "We have seen how perfect was the harmony established 
 by Metastasio between music and poetry, but he did not 
 rest satisfied until he had made the sister art of painting 
 also contribute her services to perfect his work. The 
 
 8 " Zenobia," act ii. sc. 5. 
 
 9 " Olimpiade," act iii. sc. 4. 
 
 1 Collius's " Ode to the Passions." 
 " Artaserse," act iii. sc. 1.
 
 176 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 dexterity shown by him in managing this interesting 
 portion of the melodrama is worthy of attention. His 
 cnreful choice of the circumstances of his scenery, the 
 masterly manner with which he varies the local situations, 
 the study of contrast in those scenes which appeal more 
 to the eye than to the ear, the intimate knowledge of 
 the geographical position, manners, customs, dress of the 
 different nations everything, in short, which may lawfully 
 enhance the effect of his inise- en-scene, every sort of inge- 
 nious contrivance, every kind of pleasing picture may be 
 found in the scenical directions for his dramas. 
 
 These were some of the striking features of the great 
 reform worked by Metastasio in the taste of Italy, but the 
 high religious and moral tone of his works exercised a still 
 more beneficial, as well as a more lasting, influence over 
 his country. Never, surely, was the truth conveyed to 
 men's minds in more molli versi than by him. Never was 
 virtue depicted in more amiable or more glowing colours 
 than in those characters which he places before us for our 
 imitation. 
 
 Apart from his manifold charms, this alone would suffice 
 to maintain him his place in the opinion of worthy minds, 
 more especially as the effect is spontaneous, and not forced, 
 as it is in some of the French dramatists. It seems to be 
 the self-evident conclusion of each dramatic work ; as, for 
 instance, in the " Ezio," where the whole moral of the 
 play naturally sums itself up in the concluding lines : 
 
 " Delbi vita nel ilubbio cainmino, 
 Si smarrisce l'uni:mo jiensier, 
 L'innocenza e quell' astro divino, 
 Che riscbiara t'ra 1'oinbre il seutier." 
 
 Then, if we consider his power in representing the 
 affections, no one has depicted them with more grace and 
 delicacy, so that Metastasio has ever been the favourite 
 author whose works all alike may read and enjoy. No 
 one knew so well how to appeal to the heart; no one 
 could better invest his characters with the motives which 
 would naturally guide them. His touches are always 
 those of a great master clear, distinct, tender, and 
 sublime. 
 
 Perhaps this extreme facility may have occasionally led
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 177 
 
 him into a snare. He has been reproached with intro- 
 ducing too great a number of romantic episodes into one 
 piece. Not content with one primary plot or passion, on 
 which the whole drama turns, he gives each of the subor- 
 dinate characters as, for example, in the " Semiramide " 
 its separate romance ; so that in these secondary posi- 
 tions it becomes hackneyed, frivolous, and insipid. The 
 passion of Timante for Dircea (" Demofoonte") is real, 
 pathetic, tender to the last degree ; so is the primary 
 romance in the "Zenobia" and the "Temistocle ;" but 
 when all the subordinate characters play the same part, 
 the force of the predominant interest of the play is 
 weakened. 
 
 This is the principal cause, of the want of power in 
 Metastasio's characters a want which is sometimes made 
 more apparent by the smooth, gliding verses and the trip- 
 ping ariette in which the courtly poet makes his Eoman 
 and Carthaginian heroes, to say nothing of the one-eyed 
 monster, Polypheme, pay their addresses to their respective 
 ladies. 
 
 To the same cause may be attributed an occasional 
 superfluity of scenes, merely inserted for the sake of 
 giving fresh scope for his favourite passion, and which, 
 far from advancing the general action of the drama, only 
 retard it, break the unity, and divert the threads which 
 were converging towards the central point of interest. 
 These slight defects might be illustrated by passages from 
 the dramas, but the space has been already occupied with 
 the more pleasing task of pointing out beauties which are 
 quite inimitable, and before which these trifling flaws fade 
 into insignificance. 
 
 His justly-earned fame won him not only the unanimous 
 applause of his own country, but also that of most of the 
 crowned heads of Europe, who invited him to their courts, 
 and vied with one another how best to do him honour ; 
 but he remained faithful to the German sovereigns who 
 had first befriended him, and who had bestowed upon 
 him the proud title of "Poeta Cesareo," which he enjoyed 
 for so many years. Pure and loyal in the midst of the 
 temptations of a courtier's life, free from the ambition and 
 envy which sometimes mar the character of great literary 
 
 N
 
 178 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATUKE. 
 
 men, modest when applauded to the skies, he preserved 
 that gentleness and simplicity of character which, often 
 transpiring in his verses, imparts to them so much of their 
 charm. He proved the truth of his own maxim 
 
 " Un alma grande 
 
 E teatro a ? e stessa. Ella in segreto 
 S' approva, e si condaima, 
 E placuia, e sicura 
 Del volgo spettator 1' aura non cura." 
 
 Artaserse, act ii. sc. 2. 
 
 PART IV. 
 
 TRAGEDY AND COMEDY DURING THE SEVENTEENTH AND 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES ; SCIPIONE MAFFEI AND 
 ALFIERI. 
 
 A.D. 160C 1800. 
 
 " The verse adorn again, 
 Fierce War and faithful Love, 
 Anil Truth severe by Fairy Fiction drest. 
 In buskined measures move 
 Pale Grief, nnd pleasing Pain, 
 With Horror, tyrant of the throbbing breast." 
 
 GBAY, The Sard. 
 
 THE consideration of the melodrama, in the attractive form 
 presented to us by Metastasio, has caused us to pass by, 
 lor the time, those dramatists who laboured during the 
 seventeenth century to restore the legitimate drama to 
 the position whence it had been driven by its more 
 fascinating sister. Martelli, Scipione Maffei, and Conti 
 form the connecting links between the Teatro Italiana 
 and the great dramatic poets of the eighteenth century. 
 Upon them, as forerunners of Alfieri, Monti, and Groldoni, 
 devolved the arduous task of reasserting the claims of 
 tragedy and comedy on the public attention. It was no 
 easy matter to contend with the prevailing preference 
 for the musical dramas ; a preference so marked that 
 the great public theatres the "Aliberti" of Eome,
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 179 
 
 the "San Petronio" of Bologna, the "San Carlo" of 
 Naples, and the " Fenice " of Venice were appropriated 
 to their sole use. The actors were in the pay and formed 
 part of the establishment of the respective Courts, while 
 the ordinary tragedies and comedies were excluded from 
 the royal stages, and driven back on the minor theatres of 
 the cities. They were performed by strolling players, who 
 wandered from city to city, turning everything into the 
 lowest farce as the surest method of gaining the popu- 
 lar applause, on which their very existence depended. 
 Ignorant and ill educated, these actors of Bolognese, Lom- 
 bard, or Genoese origin spoke a garbled mixture of 
 dialects, and had no notion of pronouncing the pure 
 Tuscan of " II bel paese la dove il Si suona." Nor could 
 any grace or dignity of gesture be expected from players 
 of this class, to make up for the defects of their pro- 
 nunciation. Such was the state of the Italian drama 
 at the end of the seventeenth and at the beginning of the 
 eighteenth century. The merit of having raised it from 
 so ignominious a position belongs chiefly to the " Acca- 
 demia degli Arcadi," founded at Eome by Vincenzo 
 Leonio (1690), and one of the most famous of these 
 literary institutions which nourished all over Italy during 
 this century. The beneficial influence exercised by the 
 " Arcadi " over literature in general was especially centred 
 in the reform of the drama ; and, under the shadow of 
 this great literary society, the dramatic writers once more 
 ventured upon the abandoned field of tragedy. Pier 
 Jacopo Martelli (b. 1665, d. 1727), a member of this 
 Accademia, is the first to claim our notice. Fired by 
 emulation of the French stage, he thought by taking the 
 great writers who had formed it for an exact model, 
 he could produce dramas equal to theirs in his own 
 language. He did not even confine his imitation to the 
 general method of developing the plot, but carried it 
 so far into detail as to copy faithfully the metre they 
 employed, with its rhymes in stiff couplets a kind of 
 verse hitherto unknown to the Italian stage, and ever 
 afterwards called from him "Martelliani." One example 
 will serve to show how ill the long Alexandrine metre 
 agrees with the spirit of the Italian language : 
 N 2
 
 180 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " Signer vedi a' tuoi picdi, il tuo fedel Rustano, 
 Che t' annuncia vicino, 1' arrive del Sultano." 
 
 Even as a novelty this metre had little charm for the 
 Italians, and very soon they discovered how wearisome 
 was the " monotonia della cesura e la rima troppo f're- 
 quente, e sempre accoppiata." Martelli himself, when he 
 perceived their unpopularity, observed that "With a 
 pair of scissors the mistake could be remedied ; for, by 
 dividing the verses exactly in the middle, they could 
 be reduced to the short metre employed by the old 
 tragedians, pre-eminently by Speroni in his 'Canace.'" 3 
 Martelli's Theatre was published at Rome in 1715. Its 
 merits were recognized by no less a critic than Goldoni, 
 who observes " that Martelli might have endowed his 
 country with a teatro complete had he not had the folly 
 to introduce a new kind of versification into Italy." 4 
 Nevertheless, fifty years afterwards, Goldoni employed 
 the same metre in his play of " Molieiv,'' for the singular 
 reason that in a drama of which Moliere was the hero it 
 was fitting to imitate the metre so often employed by the 
 French dramatists. 
 
 The compositions of Martelli embrace every kind of 
 drama ; and it is to be regretted that, after all his efforts 
 to improve the Italian stage, and the sterling merit of 
 many of his tragedies, he should have so far stooped to 
 the depraved taste of the age as to write a farce called 
 " Lo Sternuto d' Ercole," to be played with wooden 
 figures ! Goldoni describes how, in his youth, he himself 
 represented this comedy with a puppet-show which had 
 been given to him for his amusement. The plot is 
 simple. Hercules is represented as travelling through 
 the country of the Pigmies. The little people, terrified 
 at the aspect of what appeared to them a moving moun- 
 tain with arms and legs, hide themselves in the clefts of 
 the rocks, till, perceiving the giant asleep on the plain, 
 they emerge from their hiding-place, and, armed with 
 pigmy weapons, march in myriads over the body of their 
 sleeping enemy. He awakes with a sneeze, which, like 
 
 3 Maffei, "Storia della Lett. Ttal.," vol. ii. p. 622. 
 
 4 " Memorie del Sig. Goldoni," p. 68.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 181 
 
 that of Gulliver, terrifies and disperses the invading army. 
 " Ecco," says Goldoni, " la commedia finita e scoinmette- 
 rei che nessun altro fuori di me s' immagino di eseguire 
 la Bambocciata del Signer Martelli." 5 Gian Vincenzo 
 Gravina, already alluded to in the preceding paper as 
 the patron of Metastasio, immediately followed Martelli, 
 and laboured conscientiously at the task of restoring the 
 fallen drama. But in this respect his rules were of more 
 use than his actual compositions ; for, by adhering to a 
 stiff imitation of the classical models, he fell into the same 
 error which had marred the works of so many of his 
 fellow-dramatists. 
 
 A decided success was, however, destined to attend the 
 next dramatic production of Italy, the " Merope " of 
 Scipione Maffei, which marks a distinct epoch in the re- 
 form of her tragedy. Verona, the birthplace of Scipione 
 Maffei (b. 1675, d. 1755), has good reason to be proud 
 of her distinguished son, more especially when he de- 
 voted so large a portion of his labours and talents to the 
 honour of his native city. It does not come within the 
 scope of this paper to treat of Maffei's " Verona Illustrata," 
 with its exhaustive account of her celebrated Roman re- 
 mains, and of her history from the time of Charlemagne ; 
 nor yet of his other great archaeological and literary works, 
 save where they touch upon the drama. In his treatise 
 on the " Teatri Antichi e Moderni," Maffei defended the 
 existence and use of theatres with successful eloquence 
 against the indignant attack of a Dominican padre, 
 Concina, who looked upon them as the primary cause of 
 the vicious social condition of Italy. Maffei's triumph 
 was sealed when the Pope (Benedict XIV.) addressed 
 him a formal epistle expressing entire approval of Maffei's 
 defence, and his opinion that, in such hands, the drama 
 might be made to fulfil a useful and edifying purpose. 
 Maffei laments in his treatise over the " Pasticci drama- 
 tici," as he called them, of the day, which, he said, " do 
 not deserve the name of either tragedy or comedy, and. 
 worse than that, they propagate vice by the bad examples 
 they represent." He first compiled his " Teatro Italiano," 
 
 5 "Memorie del Sig. Goldoni," p. 68.
 
 182 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 consisting of the best dramas of the sixteenth century, 
 and some of them he caused to he represented on the 
 stage. But they only served to convince him of the 
 inferiority of the Italian drama as compared with that of 
 other European nations, and, in the determination to 
 wipe away this reproach from his country, he composed 
 his " Merope." Although not free from defects, 
 this tragedy, for the beauty and force of the argument, 
 the happy development of the plot, and the careful, 
 sustained style, became universally popular ; and a decided 
 change for the better in the dramatic taste of Italy may 
 be fairly said to date from its first representation at Venice 
 in 1713. It was repeated forty times in one carnival, 
 and has since passed through sixty editions, ^for was its 
 fame confined to Italy, for it spread all over Europe, 
 and was translated into many languages. The greatest 
 tribute paid to Maffei was the adaptation of " Merope " to 
 the French stage by Voltaire. Persuaded, however, that 
 in its native simplicity it would not have the same charm 
 for a Parisian as for an Italian audience, Voltaire com- 
 posed a " Merope " of his own, rearranging the scenes, 
 and adding a few incidents to increase the interest. 
 Then, preserving all the grand passages, which he ren- 
 dered in his own language, while he pared away what was 
 harsh or abrupt, he produced one of the most striking 
 tragedies that have ever been represented on the stage. 
 In the letter prefixed to the first edition of his " Merope," 
 Voltaire acknowledges his debt to Maffei : " Si la ' Me- 
 rope ' fran9ai.se a eu le meme succes que la " Merope " 
 italienne, c'est a vous, monsieur, que je le dois ; c'est a 
 cette simplicite dont j'ai toujours ete idolatre, qui dans 
 votre ouvrage m'a servi de modele. Si j'ai march e dans 
 une route differente, vous m'y avez toujours servi de 
 guide." 6 But- this handsome recognition is marred by 
 subsequent conduct more in keeping with the spiteful 
 wit of Voltaire, when, under the feigned name of De la 
 Lindelle, he addressed a letter to himself, in which he 
 reviles the Italian " Merope," and takes occasion to point 
 out all its vulnerable points. Goldsmith pronounces 
 
 " L' Italia Letteraria Artistica," p. 207.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 183 
 
 Maffei's " Merope " to be " tlie most finished tragedy in 
 the world," 7 and " supposes that the author learned from 
 the ' Samson ' of Milton, and the ' Athalie ' of Racine, to 
 construct a tragedy without a love intrigue." It is a 
 strong proof of the power of Maffei's mind that, without 
 such an episode, he should have succeeded in winning the 
 public favour at a period when a romance of some kind 
 was considered indispensable to any drama. Maffei wrote 
 his " Merope " with the intention of proving that, it was 
 possible to excite the sympathy and sustain the interest 
 of the audience by a plot depending entirely on the strong 
 affection existing between mother and son, when brought 
 out and placed in a vivid light by situations of extreme 
 peril. Some of the scenes show great power and force of 
 contrast. Yet it must be owned that there is something 
 revolting in the fury of a queen who wishes to kill the 
 murderer of her son with her own hands something to 
 excite horror rather than sympathy, and not to be excused 
 even by the force of the situation, when the supposed 
 murderer proves to be her son himself, whom she is about 
 to destroy. Voltaire contrives to soften the impression 
 conveyed by the queen's violence in this scene, till it 
 merely appears undignified but with Maffei her 
 conduct appears in all its rude barbarity. Eager in the 
 pursuit of learning, and anxious to compare the litera- 
 ture of other naiions with his own, Scipione Maffei 
 travelled all over Europe. Frederick Prince of Wales 
 welcomed him to England with marked courtesy, and 
 in return he dedicated to the Prince the first book of 
 his translation of the " Iliad " into Italian. He visited 
 Pope at his villa on the Thames, and found him engaged 
 in the study of " Merope." The University of Oxford 
 conferred a degree on the illustrious Italian, with an 
 elaborate public oration in his praise, from which, however, 
 says a satirical biographer, " he could not have derived 
 much gratification, as, owing to the barbarous English 
 method of pronouncing Latin, he did not understand a 
 word they said." 8 He died at Verona in 1775, in the 
 
 7 Goldsmith, " Present State of Polite Literature," p. 48. 
 
 8 " L' Italia Letteraria Artistica," p. 208.
 
 184 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 eightieth year of his age. His " Merope " raised the 
 whole tone of the Italian stage, and the tragedians who 
 succeeded him set it steadily before them as a standard 
 of excellence. But they were not equally successful in 
 gaining the popular applause ; and the only tragedies 
 which in any way rivalled that of Matfei were those of 
 " Griulio Cesare " and " Giunio Bruto," by Conti. Antonio 
 Conti, a Venetian nobleman (b. 1677, d. 1748), was a 
 contemporary of Maffei ; but it was only in the decline of 
 life that he turned his mind to the drama ; and so it came 
 to pass that his " Giulio Cesare " was not represented till 
 1743, whereas "Merope" had appeared in 1713. The 
 former of these two tragedies was highly popular when 
 first performed at Venice, and the critics praise the simple 
 grandeur of his characters by contrast with the affecta- 
 tion which clings to the modern dramatists in their treat- 
 ment of classical subjects. " The true Roman speaks with 
 natural nobility of character, beautiful because it is uncon- 
 scious ; but in our modern tragedies the heroes are gre;it 
 and noble with so vast an effort that they collapse, and 
 become mean and little in the attempt, displaying their 
 foreign origin when they most wish to appear as Kornans. 
 The great merit of Conti consists in a wise adherence to 
 those details of the manners and customs of the time 
 which stamp the character of the piece, and in which the 
 French dramatists are often very deficient." 9 A few 
 tragedians, whose names are not of sufficient importance 
 to find a place in this paper, stimulated by the examples 
 of Maffei and Conti, continued to cultivate the tragic 
 muse with praiseworthy zeal worthy of better success. 
 
 Translations of French and English plays were also 
 written in great numbers at this time. Among others, the 
 " Mahomet "and " Scrniramide " of Voltaire were rendered 
 into Italian by Cesarotti. But such foreign aid could not 
 impart sufficient life to sustain the tottering native drama. 
 On the contrary it only served to confirm the prevailing 
 opinion, that although here and there an occasional good 
 tragedy might give promise of better things, Italy would 
 never possess a permanent tragic theatre ; that tragedy 
 
 9 Maffei, vol. ii. p. 624.
 
 THE ITALIAN DXAMA. 185 
 
 was not in accordance with the genius and character of 
 her language. This despairing verdict was destined to 
 be immediately called in question, and afterwards com 
 pletely overthrown by the genius of Alfieri. " Why," he 
 asks, with all the passionate eagerness of his character, 
 " must our divine language, so bold and vigorous in the 
 mouth of Dante, become languid and effeminate on the 
 tragic stage; why should Cesarotti, whose poem of "Ossian ' 
 is full of life and Hre, become at once tame and insipid in 
 his tragedies of " Semiramide " and " Mahomet " ? Of 
 one thing I am sure, that, wherever the fault lies, it is not 
 in our beautiful, flexible, ever- varying Italian speech." 
 He proved the truth of his own words ; for, after the 
 publication of his tragedies this reproach could never again 
 be cast upon the dramatic literature of Italy. His 
 immediate predecessors had laboured vainly in the same 
 cause, copying, now the classic and now the French stage, 
 but to no purpose. He bent his genius to the task, and it 
 was done. Despising the mere surface work of imitating 
 the foreign drama, he began by making himself thoroughly 
 acquainted with his own language in its finest models, 
 and then moulded it with masterly vigour to serve the 
 great end he proposed to himself. But this result was 
 only accomplished by y^ars of labour. His early educa- 
 tion was little calculated to develop his talents. He was 
 born at Asti, January 17, 1749, of noble parents ; and it 
 was the opinion of those days that for that class of life 
 the smallest amount of education would suffice that " ad 
 un signore noii era necessario di diventare un dottore." 
 Eight years of " ineducation," as lie himself terms it, had 
 their fruit in a wild ungoverned youth ; but with this 
 period of his life we have no concern. It occupies three 
 epochs of his autobiography, and the fourth, which em- 
 braces thirty years of manhood and middle life, gives a 
 faithful account of the studies of his maturer years and of 
 their fruit in his works. The representation of " Cleopatra," 
 his earliest tragedy, performed in Turin in 1775, brought 
 out forcibly its many defects, and made manifest to Altieri 
 the necessity of retracing his steps in those paths of 
 learning from which in youth and indolence he had turned 
 aside. " The thick veil," he says, " which had hitherto
 
 186 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 so effectually blinded me fell from my eyes, and I made a 
 solemn vow to spare myself neither pains nor trouble, 
 until, like a true son of Italy, I had mastered my own 
 language." Beginning literally with the grammar, he 
 proceeded steadily, verse by verse, through the Italian 
 classics. Dante was too. difficult at the outset, and was 
 laid aside for Tasso ; Ariosto succeeded ; then Dante with- 
 out the help of commentaries, followed by Petrarch, 
 diligently noting the fine passages of each, and never 
 pausing in his work ; so that in a year he had an accurate 
 knowledge of these, the four great poets of Italy. And 
 for sixteen years they continued to be his daily study. 
 To his mind they contained all the elements of poetry, 
 with the exception of the actual mechanism of blank 
 verse, which, he observes, " can be easily extracted from 
 the combination of the four, when taken together and 
 manipulated with a little art." ! Later in life he found 
 another model for blank verse in the " Ossian " of 
 Cesarotti, which had a great attraction for him. His 
 friends, who watched his labours with interest, next 
 recommended a study of the best prose writers ; and 
 finally, still in the pursuit of his language in its purest 
 form, he betook himself to Tuscany to accustom himself 
 " a parlare, udire, pensare, e sognare in Toscano, e non 
 altrimenti mai piu." Like all true Italian scholars, he 
 could not away with the French Italian, which in his 
 time, as now, prevailed in Italy ; and which has such a 
 mischievous effect upon the language, weakening its fine 
 nervous idioms, and spoiling all its originality. Against 
 these " gallicisme " Alfieri waged a ceaseless warfare, more 
 especially because, owing to his Piedmontese birth and 
 education, they were a special stumbling-block in his 
 own path. The first use he made of the knowledge of 
 his own language was to re-write the two tragedies of 
 " Filippo " and " Polinice," which in his youth he had 
 written in French. " Filippo " is now considered one of 
 his best tragedies, and the dialogue between the King of 
 Spain and his minister (act ii. sc. 5), a masterpiece of 
 vigour and brevity, rivals Ccmeille's famous challenge 
 
 1 Alfieri, " Opere," vol. ii. p. 109.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 187 
 
 scene in the " Cid." The hateful character of Philip II. 
 is portrayed with a powerful hand. To the study of his 
 own literature succeeded that of the ancient classics ; 
 and the result of this was the tragedy of " Antigone." 
 "Antigone" offers another striking instance of concise- 
 ness (act iv. sc. 1). The second scene of the second 
 act is one of great power, and is famous for the one 
 sentence : " II reo d' un delitto e chi '1 pensa." Still 
 keeping on classical ground, he wrote " Agamennone," 
 and pursued the narrative in the tragedy of " Oreste." 
 Aware that the subject had already been treated by 
 Voltaire, he endeavoured to borrow the French tragedy 
 from a friend, who refused to lend it, advising him to 
 write his own play first, on the ground that, in that 
 way his " Oreste," whether better or worse than the 
 French one, would be at all events his own. " I took 
 this excellent advice," says Alfieri, "and it ever after- 
 wards became a rule with me, if I wrote on a subject 
 already treated by modern writers, never to read their 
 tragedies till I had composed my own. Thus I preserved 
 an originality which none can dispute." However, every 
 rule requires an exception to prove it, and, in the case 
 of " Merope," Alfieri had read Maffei's tragedy on the 
 same subject before composing his own. And his wonder 
 that such a tragedy should have obtained so great a repu- 
 tation induced him to see whether he could not do more 
 justice to the subject. Like Maffei, he dedicated his 
 tragedy to his mother in token of filial affection ; and by 
 a few masterly strokes he adds vigour to a subject which 
 seemed to have reached its culminating point of interest 
 in the hands of former tragedians. "Sofonisba" and 
 " La Rosamunds, the earliest tragedies of the Teatro Antico, 
 were again invested by him with their " sceptred pall." 
 He relates with much candour how, on reading his first 
 " Sofonisba " to a friend, it was such an evident failure 
 that he threw it into the fire. He afterwards re-wrote it, 
 though never to his entire satisfaction. " La Congiura 
 dei Pazzi " was next suggested to him as a subject for a 
 tragedy, by his friend II Gori. Alfieri read the account 
 of this conspiracy for the first time in Macchiavelli's His- 
 tory, and was so enraptured with the vigorous style of the
 
 183 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 narrative as to lay aside his dramatic works for the time, 
 and to write a treatise on " La Tirannide," which he pub- 
 lished in later years. Although his more mature judgment 
 taught him to look upon the subject of his work in a 
 modified light, and to wish that his wild invectives 
 against princes and potentates had been strengthened by 
 reasonable arguments, he would not allow himself to 
 temper with " il gelo degli anni " the passionate cry for 
 liberty which breathes in this ardent work of his youth. 
 ~$o one desired more earnestly than he did the freedom of 
 his country, no one was more intolerant of the yoke of 
 oppression under which Italy had groaned so long. Of 
 the sincerity of these convictions he gave a remarkable 
 proof. There was a law at that time in Piedmont that 
 subjects of Altieri's position and station in life might not 
 leave the kingdom without permission of the Government. 
 This was sufficiently galling to a man of Alfieri's restless, 
 independent spirit ; but another law, which prohibited, 
 under penalty of a heavy fine, the publication of any 
 books out of the kingdom unless revised by the State, 
 touched him still more nearly. " In these circumstances," 
 says Alfieri, " it was evident that I could not be both an 
 author and a subject of his Piedmontese Majesty. Of 
 the two I chose to be an author." He was also aware 
 that the principles of liberty which he insisted upon so 
 earnestly in his writings in the " Tirannide," for example, 
 and in his tragedy of " Virginia," one of his most power- 
 ful compositions were not calculated to win the approba- 
 tion of the Piedmontese Government. His proud, inde- 
 pendent genius could brook no restraint of this nature, 
 and he resolved to shake off the galling chains at whatever 
 cost ; to bid adieu to his country ; in short, to make use 
 of the word which he coined for the occasion " di spie- 
 montezzarmi." This self-banishment involved the renun- 
 ciation of his inheritance and all other worldly possessions ; 
 but the greatness of the sacrifice did not stagger his pur- 
 pose. He deliberately made over to his sister Giulia 
 (wife of the Conte di Cumiana) the whole of his property, 
 on condition of her allowing him an annual pension of 
 14,000 lire. At one time it seemed doubtful if the 
 Government would allow him to draw this pension, and
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 189 
 
 the chapter which he devotes to this extraordinary inci- 
 dent^ relates in an amusing manner the various economies 
 he strove to practise, and his calculations as to what pro- 
 fession would best secure him a livelihood. His passion 
 for horses second only to his love of literature and his 
 great gift for managing them, led him seriously to con- 
 sider whether the trade of a horse-breaker would not suit 
 him. It was, he considered, one of the least servile of 
 occupations, and most easily 'combined with that of a 
 poet, " since a tragedy may be as well written in a stable 
 as in a court." 3 But at length his affairs were arranged, 
 and his sister, deeply lamenting the step he had taken, 
 was allowed by the Government to pay him the aiiuual 
 pension he had asked for. Alfieri was now free. His 
 movements were no longer restrained by arbitrary rule. 
 His writings might express his bold uncompromising 
 sentiments without fear of restraint. The completion of 
 the " Congiura dei Pazzi," hitherto only planned, was the 
 first fruit of this liberty, written, as he himself expresses 
 it, with"febbre frenetica di liberta." But this cannot 
 excuse the false colours in which, to serve the cause of 
 freedom, Aliieri represents an action acknowledged by all 
 historians to have been the most dastardly of crimes. To 
 borrow the words of Koscoe for none more forcible 
 could be found " What shall we think of a dramatic 
 performance in which the ' Pazzi ' are the champions of 
 liberty ? in which superstition is called in to the aid of 
 truth, and Sixtus consecrates the holy weapons devoted 
 to the slaughter of the two brothers 1 in which the rela- 
 tions of all parties are confounded, and a tragic effect is 
 attempted to be produced by a total dereliction of histori- 
 cal veracity, an assumption of falsehood for truth, of vice 
 for virtue ? " 4 Still, while lamenting the general princi- 
 ples it inculcates, we must not be deterred i'rom pointing 
 out the beauty of some of the individual parts. The scene 
 between the two Medici brothers, Lorenzo and Giuliano,5 
 which contains a tribute to the founder of their family, 
 
 * Vol. ii. pp. 5871. 
 
 3 Ibid. p. 68. 
 
 4 Roscoe's " Life of Lorenzo de' Medici," note to p. 212. 
 
 5 " Cong, uei Pazzi," act ii. sc. 1.
 
 190 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the great Cosimo, and a masterly description of a tyrant's 
 method of crushing his people into submission displays 
 his gift of eloquence in a striking manner. " Don 
 Garzia " followed the " Congiura," and is again made the 
 engine for an attack upon the Medici. His next tragedy, 
 " Maria Stuarda," he wrote for the singular reason that he 
 did not like the subject ; but with that indomitable will, 
 so characteristic of him, he determined to see if he could 
 not do justice to it, in spite of his disinclination. The 
 experiment failed as a whole, although the principal 
 characters, Queen Mary, Darnley, and Bothwell, are well 
 drawn. The subordinate parts of Ormond and Lamorre 
 are creations of his fancy, for it is in vain to seek them 
 in history. He continued his work with astonishing 
 rapidity ; in ten months (1782) he wrote seven tragedies, 
 arranged the plan of two new ones, and revised and 
 corrected the fourteen which he had composed altogether. 
 From time to time he judged of their effect by reading 
 them aloud in a mixed society, inviting the criticisms of 
 the learned, profiting even by the " yawns, coughs, and 
 restlessness " of the rougher or more ignorant elements of 
 his audience, to note for alteration such passages as were 
 dull and heavy, and could not command general interest. 
 But hitherto, with the sole unfortunate example of 
 " Cleopatra," none of his tragedies had been put upon the 
 stage. At last he was stimulated to make the attempt 
 by the representation of a version of Thomas Corneille's 
 " Conte d'Essex," by a company of dilettanti in the 
 private theatre of the Duca Grimaldi, at Rome. Poor in 
 the original, the play appeared even worse in a translation ; 
 and Alfieri longed to substitute one of his own, written 
 with native fire, in his own beloved Italian language. 
 He offered his " Antigone " to the amateur corps drama- 
 tique. It was readily accepted, and the company not 
 being sufficiently strong for all the parts, that of Creonte, 
 visurper of the throne of Thebes, fell upon himself. The 
 success of the piece- surpassed his expectations, and 
 induced him to venture on what he terms the terribile 
 prova of printing and publishing his works. The first 
 edition consisted of one volume, containing his first 
 four tragedies, published at Rome in 1783, and followed
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 191 
 
 immediately by six more tragedies published in two 
 volumes at Sienna. He was immediately assailed by the 
 fire which he had expected of literary criticism, correspon- 
 dence, and newspaper comments. The pedanti Fiorentim, 
 as he calls them, gave him to understand that, if his 
 manuscript had been corrected by their Academy, it would 
 have had a better chance of success. An exception must 
 be made in favour of II Calzabigi's just and enlightened 
 criticisms, which, far from angering the author, were of 
 great service to him in his subsequent compositions. To 
 this critic Alfieri wrote a reply, and the correspondence 
 serves as an admirable preface to the first volume. 6 
 After the publication of these tragedies, Alfieri paused in 
 his labours, and set out on extensive travels to France 
 and England, not, as he tells us, from any curiosity or 
 wish to see either of those countries, but partly from 
 sheer restlessness, and partly for the purpose of buying 
 English horses. This passion, already alluded to, was 
 sufficiently strong to supersede for a period of eight months 
 at a time the books and poetry which were at other times 
 of such absorbing interest. During his sojourn of four 
 months in London (1784) he bought fourteen horses (as 
 many horses as he had written tragedies), which, with 
 infinite labour, he transported to Sienna. He feelingly 
 describes all the miseries the poor animals suffered in the 
 transit, and his careful passage of Mont Cenis, which 
 offered no small difficulties and danger to the high-bred 
 English horses, "vivaci e briosi oltre modo." 7 On his 
 way through Piedmont, the reigning King of Sardinia, 
 Vittorio Amadeo II., sought in vain to lure the voluntary 
 exile back to his native country. Liberty of thought 
 and liberty of action were more than ever prized by 
 Alfieri after his sojourn in England, and the royal 
 courtesies were in vain, although later, in 1796, when 
 the king was hard pressed by the French arms, Altieri 
 would have been glad had it been possible to render him 
 any service. Breathing more freely when he had left 
 Piedmont behind him, Alfieri began anew his rambles 
 
 6 Alfieri, "Tragedie," vol. i. pp. 192. 
 ~i Altieri, " Vita," vol. ii. p. 123.
 
 192 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEEATURE. 
 
 over Italy and Europe. The fame of Yoltaire's tragedy 
 of "Brutus " stirred up a spirit of rivalry in the Italian 
 tragedian. " Voltaire write on Brutus ! " he exclaims ; 
 " I will have a Brutus of my own ; nay, I will have 
 two ; and we will see if I cannot outdo this Frenchman 
 of plebeian origin." And so " Bruto Primo" appeared, 
 dedicated to Washington, followed by "Bruto Secondo," 
 dedicated to " II libero Popolo Iialiano." They are noisy 
 and tumultuous tragedies, where the stage is perpetually 
 crowded with Roman citizens clamouring for freedom ; 
 and although they contain some fine declamations in 
 favour of liberty, they are the least happy of Altieri's 
 works. His tragedies were now nineteen in number, and 
 Alfieri, who had originally intended to limit their number 
 to twelve, resolved to abstain from writing any more, 
 and to publish them all in a new and complete edition. 
 He was in Paris at the time of this resolution (1787), so 
 he entrusted the publication of the new edition to Didot, 
 a Frenchman of whose taste and talents the fastidious 
 author had a high opinion. It was three years in pre- 
 paration, owing to the care and pains which were lavished 
 upon it, and it was still in type when Didot's press 
 suddenly stopped for want of hands. The workmen, 
 plunged deep in the politics of that exciting time, spent 
 <% whole days," says the indignant author, " in reading 
 the newspapers and expressing their ideas as to the 
 government of the kingdom, instead of attending to 
 their business of setting up the types." But these were 
 only the first signs of the awful storm of the Kevolution 
 from which Altieri on his return to Paris, in 1792, 
 narrowly escaped with his life. His " Memoirs " de- 
 scribe the well-known events of the 10th of August, the 
 massacre of the Swiss Guard, the pitiless treatment of 
 the Royal Family ; his own flight, accomplished five days 
 afterwards with the utmost difficulty. 8 The atrocities he 
 had himself witnessed, supplemented each day by some 
 new tale of horror as it reached Italy, filled to overflowing 
 the measure of Alfieri's hatred of and contempt for the 
 French. It was not till he had relieved his mind by an 
 
 s Vol. ii. pp. 188, 207.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 19 > 
 
 apology for the unhappy Lonis XVI., then a prisoner, 
 and a furious invective against the whole nation, entitled 
 " II Misogallo," that Alfieri could again turn his attention 
 to Italian literature. Still it was his unhappy fate twice 
 before he died to see the objects of his especial hatred 
 enter Florence once in 1799, and again in 1804, when 
 he peremptorily refused the French general's request to 
 make his acquaintance. In the spring of 1793 we find 
 him aiding personally in the recital of his tragedies by a 
 society of dilettanti in Florence. He made great pro- 
 gress in the art of declamation, giving the light and 
 shade, inflection of voice, and variety of action ne- 
 cessary to make the characters he personated stand out 
 distinctly and vividly before his audience. " Saul " was 
 his favourite tragedy. After reciting it several times, he 
 was prevailed upon to play the part of the Hebrew king, 
 in a private theatre at Pisa, and there he tells us "rimasi 
 quanto al teatro, morto da Ke." Authors do not always 
 give the preference to their best works, but the Italian 
 critics confirm Alfieri in his predilection for " Saul," 
 esteeming it the best and most powerful of his tragedies. 
 Alfieri made a previous study of the character of Saul in 
 Holy Writ, and the inspired language seems to have 
 been present to his mind throughout the composition of 
 the piece. We recognize it in the beautiful song of 
 David, which stills for a while the king's madness, of 
 which we can only give a faint idea in translation : 
 
 " O Thou who in eternal power dost reign 
 O'er all created things dread Lord Divine, 
 Thou, at whose word 1 was from nothing ta'eu, 
 How dare I lift my trembling eyes to Thine ! 
 Thou, from whose gaze the depths of earth contain 
 No secret paths, and night as day doth shine : 
 Speak but Thy Word, and worlds in chaos close, 
 Stretch forth Thine arm, and scatter'd flee Thy foes. 
 Borne earthwards on the rushing fiery wings 
 Of myriad ( herubims Thy chariot stayed, 
 And with Thy Word, which mightiest power brings, 
 Didst Israel's leader once vouchsafe to aid; 
 Wisdom and speech didst give from living springs, 
 And Thou Thyself his sword and buckler made. 
 Let but one ray of Thine effulgent light 
 Pierce through the clouds and strike our dazzled sight." 
 
 Saul, Act iii. Sc. 4.
 
 194 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Again, we frequently find it in the expression of the 
 deep religious feeling which is the mainspring of each 
 and all of the characters. " Miseri noi ! che siam, se 
 Iddio ci lasoia," David exclaims, in his pity for Saul 
 (sc. 1 ). " Col Re sia pace " is Jonathan's salutation to 
 his father. " E sia col Padre Iddio," adds Michal. 
 " Meco e sempre il Dolore," replies the unhappy king. 
 The dream of Saul, the departure of David on the eve 
 of the battle, are worth referring to, as they abound in 
 the rich metaphors which give such an Eastern colouring 
 tothe drama. 
 
 An interval of ten years elapsed between the nineteen 
 tragedies which were published by Didot and the two 
 lust compositions, the " Alceste Prima " and " Seconda." 
 These were the results of his Greek studies late in life, 
 and Alfieri was not a little vain of having learnt Greek 
 at the age of forty-six. " Better late than never," he 
 observes in the chapter devoted to the account of this 
 new accomplishment ; and in his mature years he read 
 for the first time, in the original, the story of Alcestis 
 ' brought from the grave." It took such a hold of his 
 imagination, that he breaks the vow which he had 
 solemnly made never to write another tragedy, and gives 
 us a finished composition remarkable for a soft delicacy 
 foreign to his other works. The return of Alcestis to 
 lile in the concluding scene is beautifully told, recalling 
 by its tender feeling the last scene of the " Winter's Tale." 
 When, like Hermione, Alcestis 
 
 ' Bequeaths to death her numbness, 
 For from hi in dear life redeems her," 
 
 and is reunited to her husband, for whose sake she had 
 laid down her life, while her children cling round her in 
 rapt and wondering delight, the pathos of the scene is 
 unrivalled. " Eccola ; mira ; Alceste viva e questa ! " 
 and Altieri puts the finishing touch when he makes the 
 sight draw tears from Hercules, the mighty hero, who had 
 snatched her from the very grasp of death. 
 
 "It WHS the crowning grace of that great heart 
 To keep bnck joy ; procrastinate the truth, 
 Until the wife, who had made proof and found 
 The husband wanting, might essay once mure,
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 195 
 
 Heur, see, and feel him renovated now, 
 Able to do, know, all herself had done, 
 Risen to the height of her: so hand in hand 
 The two might go together, live and die." 9 
 
 Thus once again embarked in literary labours, Alfieri, 
 at the close of his career, wrote six comedies, and wa 
 engaged in revising them when the illness overtook him 
 of which he died at Florence, October 4th, 1804. But 
 these comedies did not add to his reputation, nor did the 
 rathei 1 " puerile vanity," as he terms it, which prompted 
 him to celebrate his lately acquired Greek scholarship by 
 the invention and self-investment of an Homeric Order of 
 Merit. This consisted of a chain, or. collar, from which 
 hung a cameo representing Homer, and bearing on the 
 reverse a Greek distich, invented by Alfieri, and translated 
 also by him into Italian rhyme : 
 
 " For<e invftitxva Alfieri nn ordin vero, 
 Nel farsi ei stesso Cavalier d'Omero." 
 
 But as the most eminent tragic writer of Italy he is 
 worthy of the highest honour. Full of vigour and power, 
 he breathes new life into the languid scenes of Italian 
 tragedy. He will have no imitation of French gallantry, 
 no Spanish rhodomontades. Italy must have a theatre of 
 her own, speaking her pure idiom, and representing her 
 own ideas on either classical or modem subjects. With 
 one sweep he clears the stage of all confidants and 
 secondary personages ; so that, if you run your eye down 
 the list of characters, you see that they rarely exceed six 
 or seven, and are generally limited to four. "In my 
 tragedies," he says, " you will find no convenient eaves- 
 dropper ready to hear and reveal the secret on which the 
 whole plot depends, no mysterious characters (with the 
 one exception of Egisto, in ' Merope ') unknown either to 
 themselves or to others. I have not availed myself of 
 either supernatural or physical aid ; no flitting ghosts 
 haunt my scenes ; no thunder and lightning enhance my 
 catastrophes. I have abstained from unnecessary murdei^ 
 and massacres. In short, I have rigidly denied myself 
 the usual licence permitted to dramatic writers." But 
 
 9 " Balanstion's Adventure.'' Robert Browning, p. 147. See also 
 Mrs. II email's Traiir-lut.on of the Alcestis, p. 124. 
 
 o 2
 
 196 STUDIKS IN ITALIAN LITEEATUEE. 
 
 the very simplicity of his tragedies laid him open to 
 attack on account of their uniformity of method ; and the 
 author does not deny that he pursues the same system 
 with each and all alike, trusting to the variety of subject 
 and character to obviate this monotony. His own opinion 
 of his works, as deliberately expressed as if he was dis- 
 cussing those of another author, was constantly corrected 
 by contemporary criticism. He recognized the justice of 
 the enlightened comments of II Calzabigi and of Cesarotti, 
 whose blank verse had served him for a model ; but to 
 the captious fault-finding of the Florentine Academy he 
 was perfectly indifferent. 
 
 '' Uom Si' tu grande o vile? 
 Moil e il saprai," 
 
 are the concluding words of the sonnet in which he de- 
 scribes for posterity the strange mixture of good and evil 
 in his character. And if the critics busied themselves with 
 his works during his lifetime, they dissected them after his 
 death in the most unsparing manner. The French revenge 
 themselves with bitter invective for the abuse Alfieri h;id 
 heaped upon their nation. Schlegel is scant of his praises, 
 and only selects the "Saul", as worthy of favourable 
 comment ; but the opinion of his own nation, as summed 
 up in the discourse of Pietro del Rio, is of more conse- 
 quence. " You must not look," he says, " for dazzling 
 variety of metaphor, nor yet for persuasive forms of 
 speech ; but you will always find a magnificent power in 
 the style, life and vigour in the action of the drama, force 
 in the dialogue, vivacity and truth in the characters, and 
 occasional passages of astounding eloquence." 
 
 PART V. 
 
 TRAGEDY AND COMEDY DURING THE SEVENTEENTH AND 
 EIGHTEENTH CENTURIES ; MONTI, GOLDONI, ETC. 
 
 A.D. 16001800. 
 
 TIOENZO MONTI followed close upon the footsteps of 
 Alfieri in the terribil via struck out by that Michael
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 197 
 
 Angelo of the Italian drama. The " Aristodemo," Monti's 
 best tragedy, was inspired by the recital of Alfieri's 
 "Virginia" in Rome (1782). Deeply impressed with the 
 beauty and vigour of that play, Monti, immediately ou 
 his return home, sketched out the plot of " Aristodemo," 
 King of Messenia, which appeared to him an equally fine 
 subject for a tragedy. The discussion among the litter ail 
 of the day as to the merits and defects of Alfieri's style 
 stimulated Monti to improve upon the rugged asperities 
 and strained inversions which occasionally mar the grand 
 passages of his fellow-tragedian. And his success was 
 signal ; for Signorelli, an eminent critic, remarks that 
 when Alfieri's noble conceptions are illustrated by Monti's 
 polished style, Italian tragedy at last attains to the 
 summit of perfection. "Aristodemo" carried away the 
 gold medal offered by the Duke of Parma for the best 
 drama, a distinction which, owing to the gener 1 inferioriiy 
 of tragical composition, had not been claimed for two 
 years. The style is noble and sust'iined, the versification 
 fluent, the dialogue easy and polished, the plot clearly and 
 rapidly unfolds itself ; but, above all, the passions are 
 delineated with the hand of a master. The anguish of 
 Aristodemo, soothed by the tender compassion of Cesira, 
 to whom, while still unaware that she is his daughter, he 
 feels drawn with the strong chain of parental affection ; the 
 attachment shown by the faithful servant Gonippo all 
 these, in the hands of an author who writes as if entranced 
 with his subject, make a series of beautiful and pathetic 
 pictures ; so that the interest is wrought up to the highest 
 pitch by those alternations of terror and compassion which 
 are the great elements of a well-sustained tragedy. It is 
 an awful drama ; and if the mere perusal of it is sufficient 
 to stir the strongest emotions, the effect when represented 
 on the stage can easily be imagined. In the third Act 
 (scene 7) there is a remarkable discourse upon suicide 
 between Gonippo and Aristodemo, and the same scene 
 contains the description of the apparition of the spectre to 
 the unhappy king, one of the most powerful passages in 
 the drama. The accessories of spectres and tombs have 
 since been objected to as a kind of tragic terror too 
 hackneyed for use ; and the entrance of Cesira into the
 
 198 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 tomb has been censured as an unnatural act of courage on 
 her part ; but Monti urges in her defence that the desire 
 to save her father is sufficient to outweigh all the ordinary 
 fears such an action would inspire ; and we must here 
 observe that, like " Merope," the whole interest of 
 " Aristodemo " centres in filial affection. " Aristodemo " is 
 looked upon as undoubtedly the best of Monti's three 
 dramas, although the other two " Caio Gracco" and 
 " Galeotto Manfredi " have also obtained distinguished 
 laurels. The "Gracco" owed its reputation in some 
 measure to its patriotic sentiment, which was in accord- 
 ance with the spirit of the age. It has besides great 
 intrinsic merit, showing a vigour and power in depicting 
 the Roman character which can only have been derived 
 from deep study of the classics. It would seem as if the 
 ardent spirits of this century in Italy looked back fondly 
 to the past, as though to learn from their Roman ancestors 
 how to gain that liberty for which they sighed in vain. 
 But Monti is careful to draw the distinction between the 
 true liberty established on the basis of truth and justice, 
 and the lawless licence at that time so vividly portrayed 
 in France, founded on crime, and only maintained by the 
 daily perpetration of new atrocities. This " liberta di 
 ladroni e d' assassini " is sternly condemned by the Mother 
 of the Gracchi. "They have," she says, "their country's 
 name for ever on their lips, and never in their hearts " 
 (act i. scene 3). In his description of the assassinated 
 Consul (act iv. scene 6), Monti has literally borrowed the 
 well-known forcible language in which Shakespeare paints 
 the murdered corpse of Gloucester. 
 
 " But see, his face is black, and full of blood." 
 
 "Ma qui, il vedete ? tutto quanto il viso 
 Dell* infelice n' e ricolmo e nero." 
 
 " His eyeballs farther out than when he lived, 
 Staring full ghastly like a strangled man." 
 
 '* Mirate le pupille 
 
 Travel te, ob.ique, e per lo sforzo quasi 
 Fuor dell' orbita lor." 
 
 " His hair upreared, his nostrils stretched with struggling." 
 
 " Notate il varco 
 Delle narici dilatato, induio di compresso respiro."
 
 THE ITALIAN DKAMA. 199 
 
 " His hands abroad displayed, as one that erasped 
 And tugged for life, and was by strength subdued." 
 
 " e queste braccia 
 
 Stese quanto son lungbe, e queste dita 
 Pur tutte aperte, come d uom che seute 
 Afferr.irsi alia gola, e si dibatte 
 Finche for/u il soggioga." l 
 
 The Italian tragedian does not attempt to render the 
 
 " Well-proportioned beard made rough and rugged, 
 Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged ;" 
 
 but he concludes his description with a beautiful contrast 
 which diverts the thoughts from the preceding horrors. 
 An English translation can scarcely convey the soft and 
 peaceful picture presented by the Italian : 
 
 " Not thns, not thus, my friends, a just man's soul 
 Parts from its earthly home. It flees not thence, 
 Like some invading foe whose iron tread 
 Leaves ruthless footmarks in the trampled soil, 
 But gently lays its mortal burden down, 
 With lingering looks of love. So have I seen 
 One who has travelled o'er some distant way, 
 Keaching the goal at last, take tender leave 
 Of the beloved companion of his toils, 
 Bidding him fond farewell." 
 
 The imitation of Shakespeare again appears in " Galeotto 
 Manfredi, Principe di Faenza," Monti's third and last 
 tragedy, the character of Zambrino, the wicked courtier, 
 resembling closely the I ago of " Othello." But he is also 
 painted from the life as a portrait of the author's personal 
 enemy. By the character of Ubaldo, the contrast to 
 Zambrino, Monti intended to represent himself ; and it is 
 said that on one occasion when the tragedy was being 
 played the allusion struck the spectators so forcibly that 
 they insisted upon the repetition of the whole scene 
 between the faithful and false courtiers. 2 The argument 
 of the tragedy, the author tells us, is taken from Ten- 
 ducci's " Storia di Faenza." 3 It had a great attraction 
 
 1 King Henry VI.," Part II. act iii. sc. 2 ; " Caio Gracco," 
 att. iv. sc. 6. 
 
 2 " Galeotto Manfredi," act iv. sc. 6. 
 
 * Also to be found in Boscoe's " Life of Lorenzo (V Medici," vol. ii. 
 pp. 168172.
 
 200 STUDIES IK ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 for Monti, who had spent much of his time in that bril- 
 liant and cultivated city, and had seen with his own 
 eyes the chamber where Manfredi was murdered. Monti 
 was born in Alfonsina, near Ravenna, in 1754 ; he was 
 educated at Faenza. His talents early procured him the 
 notice of the papal legate at Ferrara, Cardinal Borghese, 
 under whose protection he went to Rome. There he 
 resided some years, and became secretary to the Duca di 
 Nemi, nephew to Pius VI. He obtained a high reputa- 
 tion as a poet some time previous to the appearance of 
 those tragedies already mentioned ; but the limits of our 
 subject will not admit of the mention, except by name, of 
 liis famous poem, " La Bassvigliana," written in the " terza 
 rima " of Dante, and of the same visionary character as 
 the " Divina Commedia." The subject was the death of 
 the French envoy at Rome, Ugo de Bassville. It was 
 published in 1793, the year of the murder of Louis XVI., 
 and contains a striking description of the death of that 
 unhappy monarch. 4 Monti witnessed the rise and fall of 
 Napoleon, some of whose victories he celebrated in his 
 poetry. In the zenith of his fame he recognized and 
 acknowledged the bright star of the rising genius of 
 Mauzoni, and Manzoni, making allusion to the classical 
 subjects of Monti's poetry, takes leave of the last tragedian 
 of the eighteenth century in the graceful couplet 
 
 " Salve, divino, a cui largi natura, 
 11 cor di Dante, e del suo Duca il canto, 
 Qucsto fia il grido dell' eta veutura 
 Ma 1' eta che fu tua tel dice in pianto." 5 
 
 We have seen how great an effort was required to 
 restore Italian tragedy, but it was a yet more difficult task 
 to give stability to her comedy. The great writers of the 
 fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, Bibbiena, Ariosto, and 
 Macchiavelli, had once given it the shape and form of 
 dramatic composition ; but their improvements were 
 confined to their own comedies, and, with very rare 
 
 4 Very forcibly translated by Mrs. Hemans. Poems, p. 121. 
 
 5 ' Hail, Hard divine ! at ouee to thee were given 
 
 The heart of Dante and his leader's theme ; 
 
 Meet salutation for the age to come, 
 
 Ttiiue own, o'er glories past, must weep and dream."
 
 THE ITALIAN D.IAMA. 201 
 
 exceptions, no writers worthy of note continued the task 
 which these had begun. Thus in the seventeenth century 
 we find the comic drama of Ital} r chiefly depending for 
 its reputation upon the old commedie dell' arte, which still 
 maintained the position they had acquired by their 
 classical origin. Goldoni conceived the ingenious idea of 
 enlisting harlequin and his troop in the service of the 
 true drama, availing himself of the licence they enjoyed, 
 and the immunities they claimed from long prescriptive 
 right. This was a work of time, and required all the 
 skill and ingenuity of the greatest of Italian comedians 
 before he could substitute the dialogues and plots of his 
 own invention for the extempore jests and grotesque wit 
 of the personages of the old Italian " Mascherata." We 
 find the account in Memoirs which rival those of Altieri 
 in candour, and make so lively and sparkling a narrative, 
 that Gibbon pronounces them " to be a great deal more 
 comic than the comedies themselves." Carlo Goldoni was 
 born in Venice in 1707, and from his childhood gave 
 unmistakable signs of his passion for the drama. We 
 have already seen how he employed the puppet-show 
 which had been given to him for a toy, and at the age of 
 eight he wrote his first comedy so good that his father 
 would not believe it was his unassisted work. At thirteen 
 he composed a prologue to the comedy " La Sorellina di 
 Don Pilone," by Gigli, in which he acted the part of the 
 prima donna. It was represented at the Jesuit College 
 at Perugia, the scene of his early education. He pursued 
 his studies at Rimini, under the tutelage of the Dominican 
 fathers, and there he fell in with a troop of comedians, 
 with whom he rapidly made friends. Every night he 
 attended their performances, and was in such despair 
 when their engagement at Rimini came to a close that he 
 accepted their invitation to accompany them to Chiozza, 
 under pretext of seeing his mother, who had taken up 
 her abode there. His voyage of three days in the Barca 
 dei Comici seems to have influenced the whole of his after 
 life. At college he spent the time he ought to have 
 devoted to his studies in reading all the plays he could 
 lay hands upon, in every language ; and perceiving the 
 inferiority of the Italian drama to that of other nations,
 
 202 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATUKE. 
 
 he determined that it should he the work of his life to 
 place it on an equal looting with theirs. When dismissed 
 in disgrace from college for a satirical dramatic composi- 
 tion, called *' L' Atellana," in imitation of the old Roman 
 farces, he nearly fled to Gravina at Rome, in the hope that 
 he would take him, as a second Metastasio, under his pro- 
 tection ; hut not having sufficient funds for the journey, he 
 was obliged to return to his parents at Chiozza. What were 
 they to do with him 1 From his father's profession he 
 had already turned with loathing ; he thought in a mo- 
 ment of despair of entering a monastery, but as quickly 
 abandoned the idea. There seemed some chance of 
 success for him in the legal profession, when, after passing 
 his examination at Padua, he became enrolled in the 
 corps of advocates at Venice. But his career as a lawyer 
 came to an abrupt end, and although it was afterwards 
 resumed with some distinction, it has been entirely 
 eclipsed by his fame as the greatest writer of Italian 
 comedy. He began, however, by writing an opera. 
 " The authors of comedy," he tells us, " were ill-paid, 
 while the Opera offered a prospect of an immediate for- 
 tune." 6 And so he wrote his " Amalassunta." He read 
 it aloud to the director of the opera, who pronounced it 
 to be a complete failure as an opera. " You have written 
 it," he said, " on the true principles of tragedy, but you 
 did not know that in the composition of an opera you 
 must be guided by rules, which, however destitute of 
 common sense they may appear, are none the less essen- 
 tial to the construction of a musical drama." And then 
 lie proceeded to enumerate all the arbitrary arrangements 
 and restrictions as to the number of ariette, and their dis- 
 tribution among the actors and actresses, which Metastasio 
 had managed to observe without marring the poetical 
 etiect of his drama. Made wiser by experience, Goldoni 
 consulted a musical composer before he wrote his second 
 opera. This he called " II Gondolier Veneto," and it 
 appeared as an intermezzo to an opera called " Belisario," 
 shining all the more by contrast with this indifferent 
 composition. Goldoni offered to re- write " Belisario ; " 
 his offer was accepted with joy by the troop of comedians, 
 " Mem. del Sig. Goldoni," p. 103.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 203 
 
 and when the " Belisario " was represented at Venice 
 (1714), the effect it produced surpassed their highest 
 expectations. " Questa, questa," was the unanimous 
 choice of the audience, when, according to the custom, 
 the stage-manager appeared before the curtain to an- 
 nounce the performance for the ensuing night. The 
 "Belisario" had been supplemented by two " opere 
 butte," also by Goldoni, a kind of dramatic composition 
 which, although well known in Naples and Home, had 
 not yet made its way into Northern Italy. This novelty 
 added to the popularity of the performance, and the 
 comedians discovered that Goldoni was henceforth in- 
 dispensable to their dramatic arrangements. He lived 
 with them on the most friendly terms, writing parts to 
 suit this person and that, gratifying the whims and 
 fancies of the prima donnas, and turning their very 
 jealousies and quarrels to account ; thus feeling his way 
 by degrees to the reform which he had long meditated. 
 The first step consisted in composing what he called a 
 commedia di carattere, to be performed without masks, 
 by contrast with the commedia a soygetto, the name given 
 to plays with skeleton plots filled in at the pleasure of 
 the actors, just as charades are now performed in private 
 theatricals. The Italian comedians were very tenacious 
 of this privilege. They considered it an insult to their 
 talents to be given a written part to perform, and much 
 disliked the trouble of learning it. They struggled with 
 pertinacity for their rights in this respect, and Goldoni 
 never obtained a complete victory over them, although 
 he fought hard for it all his life. In his first commedia 
 of the reformed kind he entrusted the principal parts 
 to two actors, late additions to their company, of whose 
 talents he had a high opinion, and it had an eminent 
 success. After this attempt Goldoni tried another opera, 
 " Gustavo Vasa," about which he consulted the great 
 Apostolo Zeno, then in his old age, and living in retire- 
 ment at Venice. The tacit discouragement of so excellent 
 a judge, and the lukewarm reception of " Gustavo Vasa " 
 by the people, proved to Goldoni that comedy was the 
 best field for his genius, for in it he could command 
 the success which did not always attend his other
 
 204 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 dramatic compositions. "II Prodigo" was another 
 commedia di carattere of the same kind as his first 
 experiment ; but the comedians again complained that 
 this cla-s of drama took the bread out of their mouths, 
 and gave them nothing to do. To pacify them, he 
 wrote " Le Trentadue Disgrazie di Arlecchino," to be 
 played by their best actor, Sacchi. It was very well 
 received, and the comedians were for the time satisfied, 
 It was followed by another of the same kind. But in 
 the succeeding one, " 11 Fallimento," intended to expose 
 the swindling speculations at that time prevalent in 
 Venice, a much larger proportion of the drama was 
 written than in either of the preceding commedie di 
 carattere. Thus little by little, now yielding, and now 
 taking advantage of his concession, Goldoni advanced 
 steadily on his way to the reform he contemplated. He 
 devotes a chapter of his Memoirs to the account of the 
 origin of what he calls the "four masks of Italy," 
 deriving his information from a manuscript containing 
 a, hundred and twenty commedie d' arte. Four personages 
 were indispensable to the plot of each of these comedies 
 Pantaleone, a Venetian merchant; II Dottore, a jurist, 
 or Doctor of Law of Bologna ; Brighella and Arlecchino, 
 Bergamese servants, one a knave and the other a fool. 
 II Pantaleone and II Dottore represent the parts of the 
 old men, or fathers in the comedy ; the other two are 
 subordinate. Pantaleone, the merchant, has always worn 
 the Venetian costume, Venice being the most ancient 
 mercantile city of Italy. 11 Dottore, the lawj'er, from 
 the famous University of Bologna, is meant to draw the 
 contrast between the man of learning and the man of 
 commerce. He was always disfigured by a most hideous 
 mask. The servants are Bergamese, because in Bergamo 
 the two extremes of knavery and stupidity are most con- 
 spicuous. Brighella wears a kind of livery, and a brown 
 mask, as a caricature of the sunburnt skin of the in- 
 habitants of those high mountains. Arlecchino, as has 
 been already said, wears a coat of many pieces, to repre- 
 sent a beggar who patches his torn coat with rags and 
 tatters of all colours and kinds. Goldoni then laments 
 over the necessity of the masks, as concealing all the play
 
 THE ITALIAN DKAMA. 20.") 
 
 of feature and change of countenance, which often convey 
 better than words the desired impression to the audience. 
 For this reason Goldoni determined sooner or later to 
 extirpate the masks from Italian comedy. Meanwhile 
 he continued indefatigable in providing for the public 
 amusement, and in return he was a general favourite. 
 His popularity stood him in good stead when, on his 
 appointment to the consulship of Genoa, he left Venice 
 (1741) to take possession of his new office. Italy was 
 involved in the war of the succession of Austria, and the 
 country was iull of hostile troops. Goldoni and his wife 
 lell a prey to the rapacity of the Austrian soldiers, and 
 were robbed of all their goods ; but they obtained im- 
 mediate redress when the Commander-in-Chief discovered 
 that he was the author of the comedies at that time so 
 universally popular, and moreover presented him to 
 Lobkowitz, the Commander-in-Chief of the Imperial 
 Army, who placed in his hands the direction of the 
 theatrical entertainments provided for the troops. At 
 Pisa the comedians asked his leave to perform the 
 "Trentadue Disgrazie d' Arlecchino," but this being a 
 comedy a uoggetto, and depending in great measure 
 upon the talent of Sacchi, who had played harlequin 
 before, now fell completely flat. Goldoni, in a moment 
 of disgust, resolved to abandon as a hopeless task the 
 reform of the comici, who would always insist upon 
 representing commedie a sogyetio, regardless whether 
 their actors were good or bad. There was at that time 
 a branch of the Accademia degli Arcadi resident at Pisa ; 
 the Arcadians received Goldoni with open arms, and 
 invited him to join their society, assuring him that his 
 talents might be far more worthily employed than in 
 writing comedies. By tin ir advice, he resumed the for- 
 saken practice of the law ; his clients steadily increased, 
 he was making himself a name as an advocate, when, 
 fortunately for the Italian drama, his scheme of life was 
 again changed by tidings from Sacchi that he had 
 returned to Venice. This letter from his favourite actor 
 had the effect of a trumpet upon a war-horse. Sacchi 
 begged Goldoni to write a comedy for him to act; more- 
 over, he proposed the subject, "11 Servitore di Due Pad-
 
 206 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 roni," hut Goldoni should treat it exactly as he pleased, 
 even to the writing of the whole play, so as to leave 
 nothing to be marred by the comedians. The tempta- 
 tion was not to be resisted. For a little while Goldoni 
 still clung to the law, pleading by day and writing by 
 night ; but the arrival of a fresh troop of comedians at 
 Leghorn settled the question forever in favour of comedv. 
 If Goldoni would only write for them, Medebac, their 
 director, would engage the theatre of San' Angelo at 
 Venice purely for the representation of his plays. Thus 
 the moment had at last arrived for the reform which 
 Goldoni had long desired to effect. The theatre was 
 opened in 1747, with three commedie di carattrrc. 
 "Tonin della Grazia," "L'TJomo Prudente," "I Due 
 Gemelli Veneziani." The brilliant success of these 
 three comedies aroused the jealousy ot the other co- 
 medians in Venice, which vented itself in spiteful 
 criticisms and parodies. Goldoni was equal lo the occa- 
 sion, and wrote a parody of their parody of "La 
 Vedova Scaltra," and thus effectually silenced his enemies. 
 But for a time their ill-natured criticisms had emptied 
 the theatre of San' Angelo. Goldoni, to restore its 
 popularity, bound himself by a promise to write sixteen 
 new comedies for the year 1750, which promise he ful- 
 filled. The h'rst of these, " II Teatro Coruico," success- 
 fully exposed the defects of the commedie deil' arte, and 
 the only one of all this number which met with a bad 
 reception was " II Giuocatore," because it reproved the 
 gambling at that time common in Venice. Space will not 
 admit of a review of each one separately, so we will content 
 ourselves with saying that " II Vero Amico " was esteemed 
 by Goldoni as the best of the number. His unceasing 
 labours brought on a severe illness, aggravated by the 
 ingratitude ot Medebac, who refused to allow him the 
 copyright of his works. This piece of tyranny decided 
 Goldini upon breaking with the manager as soon as his 
 engagement expired. Among the last plays that he wrote 
 for the Teatro San' Angelo we must notice " La Locan- 
 diera," one of his cleverest compositions. Medebac used 
 every effort to retain Goldoni in the service of his theatre, 
 but the author of " La Locandiera " was already employed
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 207 
 
 by a Venetian nobleman to write for the theatre of San' 
 Lucca, at that time in private hands. This was the 
 period of Goldoni's greatest fame. Among many ex- 
 cellent comedies, we select as the best the inimitable 
 " Smanie della Villegiatura," well known to all. It was 
 invaluable at the time in exposing the extravagances of 
 these villegiatura, which seem to have been carried to a 
 height of folly scarcely credible. But with his increasing 
 fame his enemies increased also. There were many who 
 still upheld the old masks, and said that Goldoni had 
 done his best to extinguish an entertainment which had 
 been the boast of Italy from time immemorial. At Kome, 
 where he was summoned to write for another private 
 theatre, the masks still reigned supreme. Goldoni saw 
 them, in their glory during Carnival, and then had the 
 mortification to witness the ruin of one of his best 
 comedies, " La Vedova Scaltra,"in their unpractised hands, 
 His enemies attacked him also fur his Venetian dialect. 
 This he endeavoured to correct by a four years' residence 
 in Florence, submitting the new edition of his works to 
 the corrections of those most learned in the pure Tuscan 
 dialect. He tried to console himself by comparing his 
 fate with that of Tasso, whose works were so mercilessly 
 analyzed by the Cruscan Academicians ; but we can hardly 
 forgive him for making the misfortunes ot that unhappy 
 poet the subject of a comedy. The fame of his plays 
 having reached Paris, he received an offer (1761) from the 
 superintendent of the Royal Theatre of a two years' en- 
 gagement, remunerated with a much larger salary than 
 any which he had received in his own country. He could 
 not afford to throw away so good a prospect, and in a 
 short time his preparations were made for leaving Venice. 
 The comedy which was acted the night before his depar- 
 ture was called " Una delle ultime sere del Carnevale," and 
 had reference to the author's farewell to his country. 
 Goldoni was moved to tears when the theatre rang with 
 applause, mingled with shouts of " Jiuon viaggio : ricor- 
 datevi di ritornare, non mancate ! " But he never did 
 return. At the close of his first engagement he received 
 a royal pension, and for the remainder of his life thirty 
 vears he resided at Paris.
 
 208 STUDIES i\ ITALIAN LITERATUEE. 
 
 He saw the last days of the anct'en regime in all its 
 splendour under Louis XV., following the Court from 
 palace to palace. Versailles, Fontainebleau, Compiegne, 
 Marly, he visited in turn ; the favourite for whom the 
 rigid rules of etiquette were always relaxed, taking 
 affectionate interest in the failing health of the Dauphin, 
 father of Louis XVI. ; deeply attached to Madarue la 
 Dauphine, who treated him with never- fail ing kindness; 
 teaching Italian to the king's daughters, Madame Ade- 
 laide and Madame Sophia, who in return obtained for 
 him from the Government an annual salary of four thou- 
 sand francs. He refused the invitation of a London 
 manager that he might not miss the marriage festivities 
 of the Dauphin and Marie Antoinette, Archduchess of 
 Austria, Like Burke, Goldoni saw the Dauphiriess " ju^t 
 aliove the horizon," and unconsciously he employs nearly 
 the same language to describe her "decorating and 
 cheering the elevated sphere she just began to move in, 
 glittering like the morning star, full of Jife and splendour 
 and joy." But we must refrain from dwelling on his 
 narrative of that interesting time, described with all the 
 truth and liveliness of an eye-witness of the events 
 he recounts. Goldoni continued to write Comedies for 
 the Italian theatre at Paris ; but there, as in Italy, 
 the comedians insisted upon commedie a soggetto, and 
 Goldoni's old difficulties were renewed. He allowed 
 them their way, but sadly avows that he never went to 
 see their maimed representations of his comedies. He 
 frequented instead the French theatre, where he beheld 
 with a sigh the carefully-learnt parts and finished acting 
 which did full justice to Moliere's admirable plays. 
 " One or two things," he exclaimed on leaving the 
 theatre ; " either my countrymen must imitate their 
 method of representing comedy, or I will write plays in 
 French fur the French comedians to act." The continued 
 obstinacy of the Italian comedians drove him to the latter 
 course, and, in spite of his foreign origin, his recently- 
 acquired French, the sharp contrast with Moliere, in whose 
 theatre his plays came to be represented, his "Bourru 
 Bienfaisant " won for him a shower of applause and the 
 high commendation of Jean-Jacques Rousseau and Vol-
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 200 
 
 taire. Goldoni calls it the lucky comedy which sealed 
 his reputation. It was his tribute to the wedding fes- 
 tivities already alluded to, and was represented in Paris, 
 November 4, 1771, and the following day at Fontainebleau, 
 where the royal approbation, made itself manifest in a 
 present of one hundred and fifty louis-d'or. For the 
 first time Goldoni had the satisfaction of seeing full 
 justice done by the actors to his talents. He was called 
 before the curtain, and, in spite of the compliment, he 
 found it a painful and novel situation, for the custom was 
 not known in Italy . It was difficult to make the Parisian 
 world believe that the " Bourru Bienfaisant " was not 
 translated from the Italian, but written ; indeed, as the 
 author expresses it, "thought out "in. French. Thus 
 encouraged, he wrote another French drama, "L'Avare 
 Fastueux," which, although well received, had not the 
 same brilliant success as the "Bourru Bienfaisant." He 
 also despatched from time to time comedies and operettas 
 to Italy. His dramatic labours were varied by his duties 
 at Court ; for the instructions in Italian which had once 
 been given to the king's aunts, were now renewed to his 
 sisters, Madame Clothilde, before she became Princess of 
 Piedmont, and Madame Elisabeth, whose docility seems 
 to have won Goldoni's heart. On his retiring from Court 
 in 1787 he received a renewal of the pension granted to 
 him by Louis XV., and with this year his Memoirs close. 
 It would seem as if his life of ceaseless activity had well 
 earned the peace and comparative affluence secured by the, 
 royal bounty to his old age. But he had scarcely begun to 
 enjoy it when the Revolution broke out. It is needless to 
 say that his pension was rudely withdrawn from Goldoni 
 by the party which came into power, and in his extreme old 
 age he suffered severe privations. He died in his eighty- 
 third year, January 8, 1793, a fortnight previous to the 
 murder of his sovereign and benefactor. Too late the' 
 day of his death the Convention Nationale restored ihe 
 pension which they had wrested from him ; but they 
 settled on his widow an annual stipend of 1200 francs.' 
 Goldoni has enriched the dramatic literature of his 
 country with one hundred and fifty comedies in prose and 
 verse, all eminently true pictures of domestic liie. Like 
 
 p
 
 210 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the good old fashioned novel, he is careful to make 
 imhappin^ss the inseparable companion of vice, and to 
 crown virtue, after the proper amount of vicissitude, with 
 its due reward. The rigid critics of his country pronounce 
 that, had Goldoni hud knowledge equal to his great 
 natural gifts, had he written with more care, had his satire 
 been finer and more delicate, he might very well have stood 
 a comparison with Moliere. As it is, only five or six of 
 his comedies, " II Vero Amico," " II Padre di Famiglia," 
 ' Pamela Maritata," " La Famiglia dell' Antiquario," 
 " Le Smanie della Villegiatura," "La Locandiera," "II 
 ]>ugiardo," are calculated to amuse a cultivated audience ; 
 the others are farces, more adapted for the entertainment 
 of the people. 7 If, on the one hand, this want of know- 
 ledge mars the effect of Goldoni's work, it proves, on the 
 other hand, how great must have been his natural gifts to 
 accomplish what he did in the reform of the drama ! 
 These gifts are indisputable, and were never at fault. He 
 possessed the keen eye of a critic in discerning the social 
 defects which demanded reform, an inexhaustible genius 
 in finding varieties of character, a lively imagination to 
 paint them in the "brightest colours, consummate ingenuity 
 in disentangling difficult situations, and, in addition to all 
 these, a keen sense of humour, manifesting itself in a 
 lively wit. which provokes the merriment of educated and 
 uneducated alike. A born comedian, his life was full of 
 comical adventures, or he made them appear so by his 
 whimsical manner of relating them. If any extraordinary 
 bit of good fortune iell to his lot, it was immediately 
 succeeded by some half-ludicrous, half-serious calamity. 
 He is made Consul of Genoa, to his immense satisfaction, 
 with all the emoluments of the office ; he sets off to take 
 possession of his consulship, and on reaching it after many 
 perils and disasters, discovers that these emoluments are 
 purely nominal. This he relates as an excellent jest. He 
 is cheated out of a large sum of money, and he writes a 
 play called " L' Impostore," which brings him in twice as 
 much as he had lost. One of his comedies is rudely 
 criticized ; in fourteen days he writes another, which 
 
 7 Maffei, " Sturia delia Lett. Ita!.," i p. 649, 050.
 
 THE ITALIAN DKAMA. 21 L 
 
 turns these criticisms into a subject for a com cdy. And 
 so on through his life ; only his end, over which we 
 would wish to draw a veil, was tragical, in keeping with 
 the fearful times in which he died, but not in keeping 
 with the forgiving spirit which never recorded an injury, 
 or the gentle kindliness of disposition which in any other 
 circumstances, at any other time, must have been a sure 
 passport to a corresponding benevolence. As far as his 
 own country is concerned, he filled up the one thing that 
 was lacking to her dramatic literature. Metastasio had 
 shown the grace and delicacy of the Italian language in 
 melodrama. Alfieri and Monti had proved that the same 
 language was capable of all the eloquence and power 
 which are the elements of tragedy, and Goldoni has 
 endowed it with some unrivalled specimens of the true 
 wit and masterly delineations of character which are the 
 life and soul of good comedy. 
 
 PART VI. 
 IL TEATRO ITALIANO CONTEMPORANEO. 
 
 " For ill ran Poetry express 
 Full ninny a tone of thought sublime, 
 And Painting, mute and motioiil.ss, 
 Steals but a glanre of time; 
 Hut, by the mighty actor brought, 
 Illusion's perfect triumphs come, 
 Verse ceases to be niry thought, 
 And sculpture to be dumb." 
 CAMPBELL, Valedictory Stanzas to J. P. Kemble. 
 
 IT is a self-evident fact that the drama, while it exercises 
 an important influence over the national character, will 
 take its colouring from the surrounding circumstances, 
 either political or social ; and it is therefore only natural 
 that the contrast between the " Teatro Italiano Contera- 
 poraneo " and the " Teatro Italiano Antico " should be as 
 striking as that offered by the present political condition 
 of Italy when we compare it with that of former times. 
 The " Teatro Italiano Antico " originating in the Court, 
 p 2
 
 212 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATDEE. 
 
 remained exclusively in the hands of those princely patrons 
 by whom it was fostered and encouraged. It was a 
 brilliant spectacle reserved to inaugurate their solemn 
 progresses or their royal alliances, to be represented either 
 in their private palaces or in some gorgeous theatre erected 
 according to royal command by Bramante or Palladio, and 
 decorated by Vasari or Titian. In accordance with the 
 same principle the dramatic literature was framed on the 
 ancient classical models, so as to suit the fastidious taste 
 of the highly-cultivated audience. But with an existence 
 so highly artificial the drama could take no permanent 
 root iii Italy, and restricted within the narrow limits of a 
 Court circle it could have no general influence upon the 
 country. Thus when the " Teatro Antico " was supplanted 
 by the melodrama on the princely stage and sought refuge 
 among the people, it was long before they learned to 
 appreciate the stately tragedies and finished comedies 
 which sought to claim their attention instead of the 
 ancient buffoonery of the masks hitherto, from time im- 
 memorial, their chief if not their sole diversion. In these 
 adverse circumstances of the seventeenth century we have 
 seen how struggling and uncertain was the existence of 
 tragedy, while comedy there was none. Nor did it 
 revive till Goldoni adopted the expedient, not always 
 successful, of enlisting the sympathies of the people by 
 incorporating their ancient entertainment into his dramas. 
 Alfieri found it an easier task to invoke the spirit of 
 liberty in tragedies of fierce patriotism, one of which he 
 dedicates, in a prophetic spirit, to "II Libcro Popolo 
 Italiano." Thus a new and vast field was opened for 
 dramatic literature, and it became apparent that in 
 powerful hands the thrilling scenes of tragedy might serve 
 to stimulate the passions of the people and to encourage 
 them in that great struggle in which the heart of the 
 country was engaged. Ugo Foscolo (b. 1778, d. 1827) 
 and Giambattista Niccolini succeeded Alfieri and Monti. 
 The former echoed the cry of liberty with passionate 
 enthusiasm, but his fame rests more securely on his lyric 
 poetry, chiefly the well-known "Carmine de' Sepolcri," 
 than on his dramas. The best of these, " Tieste," was 
 represented in Venice January 4, 1797, the year before
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 213 
 
 " II Leon Veneto fosse spento,"one Italian biographer tells 
 us. A contemporary review 8 records the rush of spec- 
 tators of all kinds and classes to the theatre for ten 
 consecutive nights, more out of curiosity to see the work 
 of so young an author (he was only nineteen) than because 
 of its individual merits. But none can dispute the claim 
 of Niccolini to a high place among the tragedians of this 
 period. Born at Florence in 1809, he beheld all the con- 
 vulsions by which Europe was agitated during the next 
 quarter of a century, and the Italians consider that they 
 owe him a deep debt of gratitude for asserting the inde- 
 pendence of their country in his beautiful classical dramas. 
 The countryman of Dante, he models his style upon that 
 of the father of the Italian language, and once again gives 
 utterance to the passionate desire of the great Ghibelline. 
 His drama " Giovanni da Procida," amplifies in forcible 
 and beautiful language the lament of Dante over the 
 
 " Mala signoria che sempre accuora, 
 Li popoli soggetti," 9 
 
 which caused the desperate cry of "Mora, mora !" to arise 
 from Palermo the night of the Sicilian Vespers. Again we 
 recognize an imitation of the well-known " Era gia 1' ora 
 che volge '1 disio " * in the pathetic lines 
 
 " It was the hour 
 
 Wheu the solemn chime brings fond remembrance 
 
 Of the beloved dead at rest in peace, 
 
 And straight there rises to the trembling lip 
 
 The pious prayer of faith, the tender sigh 
 
 Of love more strong than death " 2 
 
 The scene is chiefly laid in the churchyard at Palermo, 
 and the account of Giovanni da Procida taking the sword 
 from his dead son's hand as he lies in his tomb is very 
 striking. The author's deep love for his country is re- 
 peatedly expressed, 3 and her well-known historical scenes 
 gain fresh life and colour when treated by his bold and 
 vigorous hand. The misfortunes of the unhappy Galeazzo 
 Sforza seem to have a new claim upon our sympathy 
 
 8 " L' Anno Teatrale, 1797." 
 
 9 Par. vii. 71. l Purg. viii. 
 
 2 " Giovanni da Procida/' act. i. sc. 1. 
 
 3 Ibid, act iii. sc. 2 ; act iii. sc. 2.
 
 214 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 when his wife, who watches the ebbing away of his 
 poisoned life, describes the sad presage which to her grief- 
 stricken mind foretells his death : 
 
 "Vain is the feast, of beauty nature spreads 
 Before a captive's gaze, and dark the sun 
 Seen through the mist of grief Now from each plant 
 The dry dead leaves fall s-cattered on the ground, 
 Leaving the parent bough ; one sere and stray 
 Lay at my feet, and to my heart it spake, 
 Thus will thy suffering husband fade and die." * 
 
 In "Antonio Foscarini " those who are acquainted with 
 the history of Venice, and have shuddered with horror 
 ever the dark mysterious tyranny of the " Consiglio dei 
 Tre," will recognize the justice of the prophecy, the fulfil- 
 ment of which Niccolini must himself have witnessed : 
 
 " Oh haughty city ! now in savage pride 
 Erect thy lion stands. A day shall dawn 
 When he shall crouch and fall, disarmed by years. 
 No flash of wrath shall show his dying fire, 
 No mighty roar proclaim a glorious end." 
 
 And those who have once seen the marvellous city will 
 recognize the place 
 
 ; " Where sit in state the marble palaces 
 Before the mirror of the clear lagoon 
 Whose limpid depths give back each glorious pile." s 
 
 While they listen again to the ceaseless waves 
 " Rotte dal vento nell' Adriatico lido." 
 
 "Arnaldo da Brescia" unites in one dramatic action, 
 and places upon the scene the fiercely-contending religious 
 and political opinions of the age in which the martyr 
 lived, for the purpose of forcibly illustrating the great 
 struggle for liberty which was still at its height when 
 this tragedy appeared (1843). Such were some of the 
 best of Niccolini's tragedies; but no one was better aware 
 than their author of the great difficulties which beset the 
 path of the tragedian during the early part of this century. 
 The influence of foreign literature was gradually making 
 itself felt in Italy, and the reaction from the violent 
 hatred of the French schools, which Altieri had so keenly 
 
 * Act i. sc. 2. B Act v. sc. 4. 6 Act ii. sc. 5.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 215 
 
 felt and so vigorously expressed in his works, had already 
 set in. " I know," says Niccolini, writing to a friend, 
 " what a difficult task it is to write tragedies for Italy ; if 
 you depart from the conventional rules, the lovers of the 
 classics at once open their fire of criticism ; if you follow 
 these rules, the romantic school attack you for a servile 
 imitator of Alfieri. To my mind the age demands a class 
 of tragedy which will combine the two ; but who will be 
 so fortunate as to rind it, and to overcome the popular 
 prejudice which will not believe in any but Alfieri's trage- 
 dies ? As to the versification, I do not see why harmony 
 should not go haiid-in-hand with force and vigour, as we 
 are taught by the immortal example of Dante." But 
 although some of the passages already quoted may serve 
 as illustrations of this successful combination, on other 
 occasions, by his studious avoidance of the severity of 
 Alfieri's style, he falls into the opposite extreme, employing 
 a stately pomp of versification too monotonous to give 
 sufficient play to the action and passion of the drama. 
 
 Another great name, that of Alessandro Manzoni (died 
 May, 1872), which has more than one claim to honour in 
 the roll of Italian literature, demands a place in this essay, 
 as an eminent tragedian, the worthy successor of Alfieri, 
 Monti, and ISiccolini. His two beautiful tragedies, the 
 "Adelchi," and the " Conte di Carmagnola," with their 
 inimitable Curi, will be subsequently discussed in the 
 short tribute to his memory, which occupies a few pages 
 of this Collection of Essays. It would be trespassing on 
 the indulgence of our readers to anticipate this, except to 
 remark that these tragedies are living pictures of the times 
 they represent in a style of unrivalled vigour and lan- 
 guage of the richest metaphorical colouring. Besides these 
 intrinsic merits, they were the means of a reform in drama- 
 tic literature, for which " II Teatro Contemporaneo " owes 
 Manzoni an everlasting debt of gratitude. In their com- 
 position he deliberately sets at defiance the hampering 
 laws of time and place so pertinaciously insisted upon by 
 the French dramatists : 
 
 " Qu'en vn Ufu, ou'en vn jour un seulfait accompli 
 Tiennc jn>qu a IH tin le Theatre rempli." 7 
 
 7 Boileau, "Art i'oetique."
 
 21 G STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 When assailed by the criticisms of the indignant savanff, 
 he proves in an eloquent letter written in their own 
 language, " qu'il n'existe, ni dans la nature de 1'esprit 
 humain, ni dans celle de art dramatique, de principe en 
 vertu duquel on doive considerer 1 'unite de temps et de 
 lieu comme une regie absolue et fondamentale de la trage- 
 die." 8 Having disposed of "1'unite de temps et de lieu," 
 he proceeds to call in question the third unity, "1'unite 
 d'action," and to prove that it is not, as the French dra- 
 matists maintain, to be taken in its literal acceptation of 
 a single action, but in its wider sense of a principal action 
 resulting from the chain of events as they naturally unfold 
 themselves in the drama. The reasoning of an " opuscule 
 qui n'a pas seulement ete compose en France . . . mais 
 en quelque sorte pour les Frai^ais" 9 is so conclusive as 
 to shake even the confidence of the French dramatists in 
 their theory, while it emancipates, completely and for 
 ever, the Italian drama from such tedious and useless 
 formalities. Niccolini and Manzoni are the great masters 
 of Italian tragedy during 'this century, and it is to be 
 feared that the age will scarcely produce any works equal 
 to theirs, even though their scholars and imitators have 
 the double advantage of example as well as precept to 
 guide them. The new era of dramatic literature had been 
 inaugurated by Manzoni in the north of Italy, and the 
 tirst tragic writer of any distinction who profited by his 
 reform was the Piedmontese, Carlo Marenco. He tries to 
 combine the vigour of Alfieri's style with the richness of 
 ]S'iccolini's versification, and the result is somewhat stilted 
 and unnatural; but he renders his country service by 
 placing upon the stage some of the most significant facts 
 of her history, and succeeds in making them point a 
 moral for the use of modern times. Some of his dramas 
 are taken from the "Divina Commedia;" the hapless 
 Ugolino, the murdered Buondelmonte, the tyrant Ezzelirio, 
 the turbulent Corso de' Donati, and the gentle Pia de' 
 Tolomei are all brought upon the scene. 
 
 " Manzoni, "Opere,'' Lettre a M. Chauvet sur "L'Unite de Temps 
 et de Lieu," p. 151. 
 9 Ibid.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 217 
 
 Many of the modern dramatists borrowed the subjects 
 of their dramas from the same rich and inexhaustible 
 mine. Leopoldo. son of Carlo Marenco, drew from 
 thence "Piccarda dei Donati;" l Pietro Corelli, "Farinata 
 degli Uberti ;" 2 Luigi L' Indelli, " Pier delle Vigne," the 
 Chancellor of Frederick II., 
 
 "Who held 
 
 Both keys to Frederick's heart, and turned the wards, 
 
 Opening and shutting with a skill so sweet, 
 
 That besides me into his inmost heart 
 
 Scarce any other could admittance find." 3 
 
 But while rendering justice to many fine passages, it 
 must be urged that none of these familiar and beautiful 
 episodes, nor can any exception be made in favour of 
 Silvio Pellico's " Francesca da Rimini," are adapted for 
 dramatic representation. There are few, if any, of the 
 great subjects of epic poetry which would not lose much 
 of their distinctive character by being transported from 
 thence into the drama, but in the particular instance of 
 the " Divina Commedia," in which the characters as re- 
 presented by Dante have remained for centuries the 
 objects of universal admiration, such a transposition 
 could not fail to have a most injurious effect. The great 
 original conceptions of the poet's fancy stand out before 
 our minds as he would wish us to imagine them, bearing 
 the peculiar stamp of the genius which created them. 
 Add one more touch, they lose their individuality, more 
 especially when, as with Dante, their poetic grandeur 
 does not lie in themselves, but in the manner in which 
 he places them before us. His fine strokes of narrative 
 and description cause the few verses to present us with a 
 more complete picture than any the drama could offer us 
 even when accompanied with all the accessories of scenic 
 effect. Descending from the northern provinces of Italy 
 we come to Rome, where the drama, until a very recent 
 date, exposed to the strictest censorship, made little if any 
 progress. The argument, the language, the allegorical 
 meaning of the composition were narrowly scanned, lest 
 any deduction should be drawn from them at variance 
 with the policy of the Papal Government. Tragedy, in 
 1 Purg. xxiv. 11. 2 Inf. vi. 79. 
 
 3 Inf. xiii. 55 et seq. Gary's Translation.
 
 218 STCDIKS IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 its conventional classical form, offered the most con- 
 venient disguise for political sentiments from such close 
 and suspicious scrutiny. By his drama of " Caracalla," 
 Gianbattista Marsuzi, following close upon the track of 
 Al fieri, first instilled a hatred of tyranny into the Koman 
 mind, and Giuseppe Cher-chef elli endeavoured to teach 
 the same lesson in several tragedies which are however 
 more calculated to win him fame as a patriot than as a 
 tragedian. The same remark is applicable to the few 
 other writers who can scarcely be said to have flourished 
 in this close and stifling atmosphere. It is a singular 
 fact that in Rome, for eighteen centuries the centre of 
 Christianity, the idea of religion is conspicuous by its 
 absence from the scenes of her drama. The old pagan 
 arguments are again and again produced upon the scene, 
 and no spark of the Christian enthusiasm which inspired 
 the pen of the noble-minded Manzoni, kindles into life 
 the cold, dead scenes of Eoman tragedy. Naples, in spite 
 of the tyranny under which it groaned during the tirst 
 half of this century, is far richer in dramatic genius. 
 The " Medea," of Cesare della Valle, Duca di Venti- 
 grano, is a tragedy almost worthy to be compared with 
 those of Alfieri, upon whose style and plan it was care- 
 fully formed. Another classical subject, " II Scphocle," 
 was revived with success by Paolo Giacometti, and mag- 
 nificently rendered by the famous Salvini, in the Teatro 
 Niccolini, May 5, 1867. Those who have had the good 
 fortune to see this wonderful actor, will not think the 
 enthusiastic praise bestowed upon him by the writer of 
 " II Teatro Contemporaneo," overstrained. " Tommaso 
 Salvini has surpassed himself in his conception of the 
 character of Sophocles. Imagine that you see upon the 
 scene some Grecian statue of one of her venerable sages 
 endowed with life by a new Pygmalion, pacing the stage 
 with majestic steps, declaiming the rounded periods of 
 his splendid oration, and you will have some idea of 
 the 'Sofocle Salviniano.'" * Passing by several oth<T 
 tragedies of no inconsiderable merit we must notice 
 for especial approbation the " Girolamo Savonarola " of 
 
 * " Teatro Italiano Couteinporaueo," p. 170. " Capuaua."
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 210 
 
 Salvadore Mormone, which, like the tragedy of " Arnaldo 
 da Brescia," powerfully illustrates the evils resulting 
 from the temporal power. Mormone, however, approaches 
 the subject with more calmness than Niccolini, and treats 
 it with grave dignity, as if the author wished to convince 
 the reason rather than appeal to the passions of his 
 audience. Macchiavelli is among the dramatis personce. 
 and the scene between him and Savonarola is considered 
 one of the best in the tragedy. This drama, entitled a 
 tragedy, belongs more properly to that class of " Drammi 
 Storici," which form so important a feature in the modern 
 Italian drama, that they deserve a separate consideration. 
 Framed on a slightly different plan from tragedy in the 
 strictest acceptation of the word, they are not subject to 
 the same stringent laws, and have therefore more scope to 
 develop the political sentiments of the times. It seems 
 probable that they will gradually take the place of 
 tragedy in an age more easily impressed by the real 
 examples of courageous virtue taken from history than by 
 the ideal heroism of the ancient tragic stage, according to 
 the philosopher's remark, that a good citizen may always 
 serve and love his country, but he will not find it neces- 
 sary to save her every day. " La Lega Lombarda," by 
 ifapoleone Giotti. one of the best of the followers of 
 Niccolini, is a striking example of this peculiar species 
 of drama. The central figure of the drama, Federigo 
 Barbarossa, with his indomitable will and giant strength, 
 a very Cajsar in deed as well as name, forms a splendid 
 type of a mediaeval hero, while the triumph of the league 
 is enhanced by their successful resistance to so formid- 
 able an enemy. The same subject is treated with less 
 success by Giuseppe Kicciardi, who also wrote " II 
 Vespro," " La Cacciata degli Austriaci di Genova," and 
 "Masaniello," whose character, notwithstanding the dili- 
 gent efforts of the author, refuses to be endowed with 
 any of the qualities indispensable to a hero, dramatic or 
 otherwise. "Torquato Tasso," by Paolo Giacometti, finds 
 a better position in this order of drama than in the 
 comedy of Goldoni, more especially as the subject is 
 treated with skill and care, showing a due appreciation of 
 the character of the unfortunate poet. Music and painting
 
 220 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEEATUKE. 
 
 are also placed upon the stage in the form of Michel 
 Angelo and Gianbattista Pergolesi, by Domenico and 
 Gennaro Bolognese ; and approaching nearer to modern 
 times we find "Silvio Pellico" and "Daniel Manin," 
 resuscitated by the Bologuese Luigi Gualtieri. Before 
 (pitting the subject of the "Draimni Storici," we must 
 not omit to notice the " Anna Maria Orsini " of Ludovico 
 Muratori, not on account of any remarkable merit, but 
 because it was written on purpose for the famous actress, 
 Adelaide Ristori, to whose marvellous acting, like that of 
 Salvini, the modern Italian drama owes so much of its 
 lame. 
 
 The modern " Drammi per Musica," or as we should 
 now call them, the operas, next claim our attention. In 
 the last century we saw the melodrama at the height of 
 its fame in the skilful hands of Metastasio. His operas 
 formed on the principle which guided the first inventors 
 of the art, fulfil as nearly as possible that ideal dramatic 
 perfection which some philosophical writers have con- 
 sidered to lie beyond the reach of tragedy or comedy, 
 and to be alone attainable by a judicious combination of 
 music and poetry, with a due regard to the laws of 
 dramatic art. Unhappily no -one succeeded Metastasio of 
 sufficient genius to maintain the melodrama in so eminent 
 a position, and as the poets became more and more in- 
 different, the musical composers gained rapid ground, till 
 the melodrama, wholly absorbed in music, lost its double 
 character, and the libretto, in theory, the most arduous 
 composition that can be imagined, became in practice the 
 most trivial of all literary occupations. It is for other 
 and more competent judges to decide whether music itself 
 does not suffer in the end by this entire subservience of 
 poetry in the loss of the beauty of poetical expression, 
 especially in a language which offers, as we have already 
 seen, such especial facilities for the combination of the two 
 arts. Meanwhile it is impossible not to share the regrets 
 with which the Italians view the diminished charms of 
 their originally beautiful invention, as we trace the prin- 
 cipal causes to which they attribute this unhappy result. 
 They appear to be twofold. (1) The neglect of the care- 
 ful study of the component parts of the opera in their due
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 22! 
 
 relation to each other. (2) The nature of the audience. 
 Among the former, the disregard of the recitative or 
 declamation for which Italy was at one time so famous, 
 was the first indication of the decay of melodramatic poetry, 
 because in it the imitation, which is the end of dramatic 
 art, depends more upon the poetry than the music. In 
 order to give weight and effect to the language, the actor 
 should carefully observe all the rules prescribed by decla- 
 mation as to noting the sense of the words, dwelling on 
 the poetical rhythm, giving all the inflections and changes 
 of voice which the music is only intended to sustain, that 
 the action may be in keeping with the rest of the drama. 
 Formerly, recitative was looked upon as the basis of 
 the opera, and it was the custom of many of the melo- 
 dramatic writers, who succeeded Metastasio, to have their 
 operas declaimed before sending them to the musical 
 composer, that they might mark in the manuscript the. 
 various impressions which the poetry was intended to 
 convey. Gluck, 5 who exercised for a short time an 
 important influence over the Italian opera, thought the. 
 recitative so important that lest it should be marred 
 by a careless, hurried rendering, he would often sustain it 
 with a subdued violin accompaniment. But towards the 
 middle of the eighteenth century, the poets, neglecting 
 the recitative, turned their attention exclusively to the 
 lyrical strophes Avhich were the motives for the airs in 
 their dramas. In this they were eagerly seconded by the 
 musical composers as likely to afford a wider scope for 
 the refinements of their art. Absorbed in these intricacies, 
 they soon lost sight of the necessity of making the music 
 express the meaning of the words. 
 
 " Parto," " Parto," repeats some beautiful voice over 
 and over again till nearly half an hour has elapsed, while 
 the sense of the dramatic action summons the actor 
 immediately elsewhere. Another performer will declare, 
 with interminable musical loquacity, while she runs up 
 and down the compass of her voice 
 
 " Non ho piii voce 
 Non so parlar.' 1 
 
 5 See "The Dictionary of Music and Musicians," p. 51.
 
 222 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 This kind of solecism, far from being an unavoidable 
 necessity, is entirely at variance with the original idea of 
 the melodrama, which has been unjustly accused of incon- 
 sistencies and want of vraisemblance. These faults ought 
 really to be ascribed to the incapacity of authors unable 
 to surmount the difficulties of successfully combining the 
 two arts. 
 
 Two schools of melodramatic writers succeeded Meta- 
 stasio, those who were guided by the French taste in 
 the melodrama, to which may be attributed much of 
 its deterioration, and the followers, at a humble distance, 
 of the " Poeta Cesareo." Among the last the most worthy 
 of notice are Coltellini, Mattei, the celebrated Neapolitan 
 musician, and II Conte Gastone, who wrote a drama 
 " Alessandro e Timoteo," a translation, or rather adapta- 
 tion, of Dryden's " Ode to Music," with the view of 
 proving and a better illustration could scarcely be found 
 the increased grandeur of effect gained by the strict 
 accordance of the poetry with the music. The best 
 writers of the actual modern melodrama are Salvadore 
 Camera and Felice Romani, some of whose couplets are 
 considered by the Italians worthy of Metastasio. We 
 select one from the well-known " Sonnambula " of Felice 
 Komani, which will be remembered as specially graceful: 
 
 " Son peloso drl zeffiro amante 
 Clie ti seherza <:ol crine, col velo ; 
 Fin del JSolf che ti uiira diil cielo 
 Fin del rivo che speecliio ti fa." 
 
 " Son, mio bene, del zeffiro amante 
 Perche ad esso il tno nome confido 
 Amo il Sole perche teco il divido 
 Auio il rio, perche 1' oudu ti da." 
 
 But with these few exceptions, the libretti of the 
 present time are scarcely subjects for literary criticism. 
 Still less may be said in favour of the opera buffe, or comic 
 operas. Those of Goldoni and Gigli and a few others are 
 the best specimens of the fun and humour of a class of 
 work which in less skilful hands must degenerate into 
 buffoonery and bad taste. 6 
 
 The comedies of the nineteenth century, and especially 
 6 Gcldoni, " Opcre," vol. xii.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 223 
 
 those which usher in its dawn, are more deserving of our 
 attention than the melodrama in this debased form. 
 There seemed at that time a fair promise that the school 
 founded by Goldoni woull not lack scholars of sufficient 
 ability to carry on the reform which he had initiated. 
 Among his immediate successors we may notice Alber- 
 gatelli, Federici, Velli, Chiari, and Giraud, and a few 
 other writers of more or less distinction. But the comic 
 drama of Italy was still more permanently enriched by 
 the contributions of Gherardo de Rossi and Alberto Nota. 
 We select as the most favourable specimen of the dramas 
 contained in De Eossi's fourvolumes,"!! Calzolaio Inglese" 
 ("The English Shoemaker"). It is written in the purest 
 Italian idiom, and the plot, intended to ridicule the follies 
 committed by the rich English parvenu in Rome, is highly 
 entertaining. Following the advice of a feigned antiquario, 
 who is determined to cheat him out of his money, the 
 Englishman is careful to admire always the most sombre- 
 looking pictures, the statues most covered with dust, 
 because that Avould be an infallible sign of age, and the 
 buildings most in ruins, till one day the original fatal 
 remark escapes him as to the Coliseum : " Quando quella 
 fabrica sara terminate, sara un stupore. Turati quei 
 buchi e imbiancata dev' essere un porteiito ! " 7 
 
 Alberta Nota (born in Turin, 1775) manifested an early 
 unmistakable taste for comedy in the constant recital of 
 Goldoni's plays, but, unlike Goldoni, lie did not suffer the 
 comic drama to become his only profession in after life, al- 
 though he found in it the best relaxation from the labours of 
 the official appointments which he held under the Imperial 
 Government at Turin in 1803, and at Vercilli in 1811. 
 Tims in spite of the tragical events by which Europe was 
 at that time agitated, his natural disposition to look always 
 at the comical side of matters disposed him to dwell more 
 upon the follies and absurdities than the crimes of the 
 French Revolution, and to hold them up to ridicule in 
 his clever and amusing comedies. 
 
 The best of these are contained in a volume of " Com- 
 
 1 " It will be a wonderful building when it is finished, with the 
 holes filled up, and whitewashed all over. " II Calzolaio Iiiglese," 
 act ii. sc. 4, vol. i. p. 192.
 
 224 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 medie Scelte," in which the Parvenu, the Bibliomaniac, 
 the Hypochondriac, the Coquette, are represented in their 
 most ludicrous aspect. 
 
 The plot of each of these plays develops itself with a 
 happy choice of circumstances, which succeed each other 
 with natural ease, and lead up to the catastrophe without 
 apparent effort, and unassisted by any coup de theatre.. 
 
 In the " Vedova in Solitudine " and " La Lusinghiera," 
 there are scenes which exhibit a keen sense of humour, 
 when he successfully ridicules the opposite schools of 
 Pedantic Purist Italian and the slipshod affected Gallicisme 
 of the other extreme. 
 
 His own style is extremely happy, careful without 
 affectation; he is considered equal to Goldoni in natural 
 simplicity of expression, and superior in his choice of 
 polished and correct idioms. 
 
 Nota was the last of Goldoni's immediate followers, 
 who maintained the individual character of the Italian 
 Drama. The French influence which during his life he 
 had successfully combated, after his death made rapid 
 progress, and ended by prevailing, greatly to the detri- 
 ment of native originality. After the usual custom of 
 imitators, the Italian dramatists copied the defects of the 
 school they put before them for a model, and reproduced 
 with exaggerated caricature on the Italian scene all the 
 faults and follies of the French stage. 
 
 Paolo Giacometti, whose works as a tragedian we have 
 already mentioned, found a new task for his flexible 
 genius in the improvement of the degenerate condition of 
 comedy. " II Poeta e la Ballerina Siamo tutti Fratelli," 
 directed against the Socialists, " La Donna " and " La 
 Donna in seconde Nozze," in which the simplicity of the' 
 Goldonian comedy is successfully reproduced, and adapted 
 to the manners of the present day; "Le Metamorfosi 
 Politiche," intended to ridicule political Trimmers, would 
 give the best iilea of his success in this different line of 
 dramatic writing. The author is guided in the choice of 
 his subjects by a careful observance of the times, and no 
 longer restricted by the characteristics of individual cities 
 and provinces, his dramas are adapted for the profitable 
 entertainment of the kingdom at large. The contem-.
 
 THE ITALIAN DRAMA. 22o 
 
 porary of Giacometti, and a still more popular comedian, 
 T. Gherardi della Testa, wrote many comedies in the pure 
 idiom of his native Tuscany, and like Giacometti, he took 
 Goldoni for his standard of excellence. True to nature, 
 and with the improvement of the social condition of his 
 country for his object, his dramas held up to playful 
 ridicule the follies of his time. A popular favourite ever 
 since the representation of " Le Scimmie," his first 
 comedy in 1844, his last, "II vero Blasone," occupied the 
 stage for 200 successive nights. 
 
 Iviccardo Castelvecchio, a dramatic writer of equal if 
 not superior merit, found it a more difficult task to win 
 the public favour, but several years of labour and patient 
 perseverance met at last with a reward in the reception 
 accorded to one of his best comedies, "La Cameriera 
 Astuta." We must close this first period of the modern 
 drama with the mention of three excellent comedies, by 
 V. Martini (commonly called " 1'Anonimo Fiorentino "), 
 " La Donna di Quarant' Anni," " II Cavaliere d' Indus- 
 tria," " II Misantropo in Societa." Born and brought up 
 in the midst of the cultivated society of Florence, the 
 " Anonimo Fiorentino " is able to give us such a perfect 
 picture in his dramas of its refinement of manners and 
 intellect, as to leave no cause for regret that he should 
 have restricted the range of his ideas within the circle of 
 a single city. His dramas illustrate the first period of 
 the " Teatro Italiano Contemporaneo " and represent the 
 Italy of the future, in that perfect aspect, political and 
 social, which Avas one day to satisfy the longing desires of 
 so many centuries. The dramatic writers of the second 
 period, while they still aim at the same end, the improve- 
 ment of their country, endeavour to reach it by a slightly 
 different path. They substitute the real for the ideal, and 
 represent with a faithful hand, Italy as she is at the 
 present moment, now that no longer the scene of feverish 
 strife, she is able to enjoy her great position among Euro- 
 pean States in dignified repose. 
 
 Paolo Ferrari, Achille Torelli, Teobaldo Cicconi, Luigi 
 Gualtieri, Lodovico Muratori, and Giuseppi Costetti, are 
 the principal writers of this school, and many of their 
 dramas successfully prove that the best affections of which. 
 
 Q
 
 226 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 human nature is capable, and the most cherished interests 
 of life when faithfully represented on the stage, can vin- 
 dicate "without the assistance of either discussion or argu- 
 ment, their unalterable claim to popular esteem, a claim 
 which has a double hold upon the sympathy of the 
 audience, when the characters are taught by the genius 
 of a Salvini or Ristori, to breathe, and live, and move. 
 Nor must we allow the names of these unrivalled actors 
 to overshadow those of Ernesto Rossi, Alamanni Morelli, 
 and Luigi Bellotti-Bon, who re-endowed the stage with 
 Goldoni's comedies, animating them with new life. Their 
 author's signal triumph over a foreign language was revived 
 after a lapse of nearly a hundred years by the French 
 actor Sanson, in his excellent representation of " Le 
 Bourru Bienfaisant " in the Teatro Niccolini.8 It is, how- 
 ever, to be lamented that this happy alliance between 
 the author and the actor should be the exception and not 
 the rule, and that the same struggle which was productive 
 of such vexation to Goldoni should still prevail in Italy. 
 Till quite a recent date, the rights of the author over his 
 own drama wre supposed to be sufficiently acknowledged 
 by a trifling honorarium, and the glory of seeing his com- 
 position represented on the stage. The ' Comici," as in 
 Goldoni's time, asserted that a further recognition of these 
 rights would be the ruin of any theatre, and heartily 
 coincided in the indignant exclamation of a favoured 
 French actress of the seventeenth century, "Eh! quoi, 
 n'y aurait-il pas moyen de se passer de ces coquins d'au- 
 teurs ! " But Corneille, on the other hand, wrote to 
 Voltaire, "Je suis saoul de gloire et affame d'argent ;" and 
 ever since Goldoni sold his comedies for thirty " zecchini " 
 apiece, the Italian authors have echoed the same complaint. 
 They protest that if an actor can make a livelihood out of 
 the profits of his art, an author ought to have the same 
 power, whereas in the present state of things any second- 
 rate actor can easily earn a thousand francs in the course 
 of the year, while no author can gain anything like those 
 profits from a drama which must cost him on an average 
 
 8 April, 1867, " Teatro Italiano Contemporaneo." It will be re- 
 membered that " Le Bourru Bienfaisant " was represented for the 
 rirst time iu Paris, November 4, 1771.
 
 THE ITALIAN DBAMA. 227 
 
 six months' labour. At last, however, this long-contested 
 privilege was established by law, 9 and it remains to be 
 seen whether under these favourable auspices a new dra- 
 matic era Avill dawn for Italy, whether some new Alfieri 
 or Goldoni will arise to claim a national reward for their 
 labours. 1 
 
 Meanwhile, it has been the endeavour of the writer, in 
 this slight sketch, the last of a series of papers on the 
 Italian Drama, to render full justice to the merits of the 
 " Teatro Italiano Contemporaneo." Although the modern 
 theatre of Italy cannot claim the admiration excited by 
 the more brilliant periods of her drama, it still deserves to 
 be recognized as playing a prominent part in the political 
 and social improvement of the country. The importance 
 of such a theatre can hardly be too highly estimated, when 
 we consider the extent of its influence over all classes of 
 people. Many will learn from its speaking pictures salu- 
 tary lessons, from which they would turn aside if presented 
 to them in a less attractive form, and are thus insensibly 
 led to appreciate those refined and better qualities of our 
 nature which, by their ennobling influence may impart a 
 sublime tone of thought and character even to the most 
 trivial concerns of daily life. With such a task always 
 in view, we can only hope that for many a succeeding 
 age the Italian dramatists will still 
 
 " To sense and nature true, 
 Delight the many, nor offend the few ; 
 Through varying tastes their changeful drama claim, 
 Still be its moral tendency the same : 
 To win by precept, by example warn ; 
 To brand the front of vice with pointed scorn, 
 And Virtue's smiling brows with votive wreaths adorn." 
 
 9 June, 1872. 
 
 1 " The Italian Government has offered two prizes, one of 2000 
 and one of 1000 lire, for the best dramatic production of the year." 
 Gasetta Uffiziale del Begno d? Italia, January 20, 1876. 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 STCDIES IN ITALIAN LITEKATUEE. 
 
 MANZONI. 
 
 A SKETCH. 
 
 " El FU." Such are the opening words of that great effort 
 of Manzoni's genius, the 0<le on the Death of Napoleon, 
 and they are now applicable to the poet himself. He 
 was, he no longer is, the author of the greatest work of 
 fiction in the Italian language, the poet whose best ener- 
 gies were employed in the praises of religion, the champion 
 of 'truth and justice, the defender of the Christian faith 
 against the attacks of infidelity ; for on Thursday, May 
 22nd, 1873, at the great age of eighty-nine, Manzoni went 
 to his rest. 
 
 " The city wears mourning" ("La citta e in lutto"), was 
 proclaimed in word and deed at Milan, and so it should 
 be. Nevertheless the lamentations, which the loss of one 
 at the same time so virtuous and so eminent would natu- 
 rally occasion, are checked by the consideration that a life 
 of singular honour and distinction, prolonged beyond 
 the usual term of existence, with full possession of all the 
 faculties, has been brought to a peaceful close at his native 
 place, and surrounded, if ever man was, by all " that 
 should accompany old age," " as honour, love, obedience, 
 troops ttf friends." 
 
 The slight sketch which follows is intended to induce 
 the general reader to pursue the study of Manzoui's life 
 and character in his works, and, in however humble a 
 degree, to contribute to their estimation. 
 
 Alessandro Manzoni was born at Milan in 1784. His 
 father, whom he had the misfortune to lose in early youth, 
 was Count Manzoni, his mother was the daughter of Bec- 
 caria, the author of a treatise on j< Crmes and Punishments," 
 once much, and deservedly esteemed. She inherited, and 
 further transmitted to her son, a portion of the sound
 
 MANZOUI. 229 
 
 wisdom and generous principles which animate that work. 
 It was not unbecoming the grandson of Beccaria to record, 
 as it will be seen he did later, his horror of torture, and to 
 expose the wickedness and uselessness of it as a judicial 
 mode of discovering the truth. Manzoui's ambition was 
 early fired by the example of the three great contempo- 
 raries who immediately preceded him in the difficult path 
 of letters Vittorio Allieri, Vincenzo Monti, and Ugo 
 Foscolo. He was barely twenty-one when, by an epistle 
 in blank verse, he proved himself worthy of being admitted 
 into that fellowship. In these verses he imagines that 
 he spirit of his friend appears to him after death, and, in. 
 reply to the question as to whether he was not reluctant 
 to tear himself from this world, he puts into Imbonati's 
 mouth a fearless and spirited condemnation of those vices, 
 which had already filled with disgust the youthful mind 
 of Manzoni. In them we see the first germ of those 
 feelings by which his life was influenced the love of 
 truth and justice, and the abhorrence of oppression and 
 wrong which appear in all his works, and which, first 
 professed at twenty- one, he maintained unchanged through 
 a life prolonged to its ninetieth year. These verses, while 
 by no means destitute of individual merit, are so remark- 
 able on this account that a translation of some of them is 
 here given : 
 
 " Hadst thou my death 
 
 Foreknown for that foreknowledge and for thee 
 Aloiif I should have wept for otherwise, 
 Why should 1 grieve ? Forsooth, for leaving 
 This earth of ours, where goodness is a portent, 
 And highest praise to have abstained from siu. 
 This eartli, where word and thought are ever 
 At variance, where, aloud by every lip, 
 Virtue is lauded and in heart contemned, 
 Where shame is not. Where crafty usury 
 Is made a merit, and gross luxury 
 Worshipped where he alone is impious 
 Whose crime is unsuccessful where the crime 
 Loses all baseness in success : and where 
 The sinner is exalted, and the good 
 Depressed : and where the conflict is too hard 
 Waged by the just and solitary man 
 'Gainst the coui'ederate and corrupted many." 
 
 R. P.
 
 230 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 In 1 805 he accompanied his mother to Paris, Avhere, by 
 his relationship to Beccaria, whose book had been com- 
 mented on by Voltaire and Diderot, he attracted the 
 notice of Volney, Cabanis, De Tracy, and Fauriel. His 
 intercourse with these men, who represented the Atheist 
 school of thought of the eighteenth century, was attended 
 by an exactly opposite result to that which might have 
 been expected. It produced a strong reaction upon his 
 generous mind, and first incited him to become the cham- 
 pion of the truths which they attacked. It reflects no 
 small credit upon the natural rectitude of his principles 
 that he should have found safety in what might have 
 proved a dangerous snare. He met with an immediate 
 reward, for the light of the Christian faith, which he had 
 been able to descry amid the dark mists spread over it by 
 her enemies, dawntd full upon his mind, revealing to him 
 the truth of those mysteries which the philosophers, in 
 their pride of intellect, could not discern, and enabled 
 him to utter them anew in hymns far superior in origi- 
 nality of thought and beauty of expression to any others 
 which had hitherto been written. The chief of these are 
 upon the vital truths of Christianity : The Nativity (" II 
 Xatale"), the Passion ("La Passione"), the Eesurrection 
 ("La Risurrezioue") of our Lord, and the Descent of the 
 Holy Ghost ("La Pentecoste"), which last is considered 
 by his countrymen to surpass them all. More especially 
 the invocation of the Holy Spirit in the four concluding 
 stanzas, the Giver of that Peace " which no terrors can 
 disturb, no infidelity shake, which the world may deride 
 but can neither give nor take away," 1 words almost of inspi- 
 ration, which drew from Goethe the admission "that an 
 argument often repeated, and a language almost exhausted 
 by the use of many centuries, may regain their first youth 
 and freshness when a young and vigorous mind enters 
 upon the subject and adopts the worn-out language." In 
 180U Manzoni published a poem entitled "Urania;" but 
 it was not till 1821 that he became a poet of European 
 
 "ai terrori immobile 
 Ealle lusinghe infide, 
 Pace clie il inondo irride 
 Ma che rapir non puo." La Pentecoste.
 
 MANZONI. 231 
 
 fame, when he wrote upon a subject of European interest 
 the death of Napoleon Buonaparte. The opening words 
 of the "Cinque Maggio'' have already been alluded to, in 
 which Manzoni announces to the world the death of this 
 extraordinary man ; and, after dwelling for an instant 
 upon the appalling effect which such an announcement 
 must produce, unrolls in the brief space of a few stanzas 
 the whole panorama of that marvellous life before our 
 eyes ; the passage of the Alps, the Pyramids of Egypt, 
 the plains of Madrid, the rushing Rhine, the snowy steppes 
 of Moscow, the Empire which stretched from the one to 
 the other sea ("dall uno all altro mar"); the alternations 
 of success and failure which attended his career, the glory 
 the greater because dearly bought, the laurel of the victor, 
 the flight of the vanquished, an Emperor's throne, or an 
 exile's banishment, twice at the summit of all human 
 greatness, twice levelled with the dust ("Due volte nella 
 polvere," "due volte sugli altar"). Nor are the feelings 
 of his own breast, as varied, as agitated as the actions of 
 his life, less eloquently described the fluttering hopes 
 and fears which wait on a great enterprise ; the burnings 
 of his ambitious heart lest he should fail to grasp the prize 
 which it was madness to hope for ; the blank despair 
 when, in lonely exile, the whole flood of memory swept in 
 upon his soul. Once again he sees the breezy battlefield, 
 the fluttering canvas of the tents, the lightning-flash of 
 the infantry, the rapid rush of the cavalry, and above the 
 distant roar of the cannon the short stern word of com- 
 mand, obeyed as soon as heard. No wonder if the poet 
 should have thought the religious consolation which he 
 himself so dearly prized, the only balm for the bitter dis- 
 appointment attendant on the train of such recollections 
 as these, and that he should conclude his ode with the 
 assertion that Napoleon's indomitable will bowed in 
 submission to the behests of that branch of the Catholic 
 Church to which nominally at least he belonged. Such 
 is the imperfect sketch of one of the finest pieces of 
 Italian lyric poetry, the greatest tribute which could be 
 paid to a great genius, while it invested him with a halo 
 of romance so brilliant as to dazzle tho eye which would 
 search for his faults. The fame which this ode acquired
 
 232 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEKATURE. 
 
 more than justified Manzoni's modest hope that "perhaps 
 his lay would not die." It was translated into German 
 by Goethe, and with care and spirit into English both by 
 the late Lord Derby and Mr. Gladstone. 
 
 The fertility of Manzoui's genius was next displayed in 
 two tragedies, " II Conte di Carmagnola " (the story of 
 the celebrated Venetian " condottiero " of the fourteenth 
 century), and the "Adelchi," the subject being the expe- 
 dition of Charlemagne against Adelchi, the last of the 
 Longobardian Chiefs (772 774). These tragedies at- 
 tracted great notice in the literary world. Both were 
 carefully commented upon by Goethe,* and received from 
 him the highest praise. The "Conte di Carmagnola" he 
 makes the subject of a careful analysis, and iu conclusion 
 he compliments Manzoni upon having shaken off the old 
 trammels and struck out for himself a new path in which 
 lie walks so securely as to make it safe for others to follow 
 his footsteps. He praises him for his polished, careful 
 details, the simplicity, the vigour, and the clearness of his 
 style, and adds that, after a most careful examination, he 
 could not wish a word altered. Nor was this all. Goethe 
 wrote again upon the same subject to defend a young 
 author, in whom he felt a deep interest, from the attacks 
 of English critics in the Quarterly Review. 3 The " Car- 
 magnola " was also commented on in the Journal des 
 Savants, the Revue Encyclopedique, and the Lycee Franqais. 
 Manzoni replied to his French critics in an elaborate letter 
 on "1'Unite de Temps et de Lieu," written in French to 
 Monsieur Chauvet, and pronounced by Fauriel himself to 
 be "just, profound, and conclusive." The "Adelchi" 
 shortly followed upon the " Conte di Carmagnola," and 
 justified the expectations which had been raised by his 
 first tragedy. Goethe, whose interest in Manzoni had 
 been further stimulated by a personal acquaintance, and 
 who also commented on the "Adelchi," now pronounced 
 that " Manzoni has won for himself a most honourable 
 
 - Goethe's Werke, vol. xxxviii. pp. 252 305. "Neueste Italien- 
 ische Literatur^" These criticisms were first published iu the " Kunst 
 und Alterthurn," an Art Journal, edited by Goethe from 1818 to 
 1828. 
 
 s No. xlvii., Dec. 1820. P. 86.
 
 MANZONI. 233 
 
 place among the modern poets ; his beautiful and really 
 poetical talent is founded upon genuine human symp.ithy 
 and feeling." 4 Neither the "Adelchi" nor the "Carma- 
 gnola" is adapted for actual representation in the present 
 time, or in the present theatrical circumstances, but the 
 curi which they contain, and which, formed on the 
 model of the Greek tragedies, Manzoni first introduced 
 into the Italian drama, are really noble specimens of 
 lyrical poetry. Speaking of the two in the "Adelchi," 
 Goethe observes that they reveal to the mind in one 
 moment a chain of ideas, which stretches back into the 
 past, fills the present, and reaches forward into the future. 
 The first of these relates to the surprise of the Longobar- 
 dian army by Charlemagne's troops, and concludes with 
 the author's condemnation of the theory that the deliver- 
 ance of Italy from bondage would be secured by the inter- 
 vention of a foreign power. The second, upon the death 
 of Ermengarda, the wife of Charlemagne, who, when 
 unjustly repudiated by her husband, took .refuge in a 
 convent, is almost unrivalled in deep and tender pathos. 
 The following translation will perhaps suggest some of its 
 beauty to the reader, or at least induce hi in to consult the 
 original : 
 
 " Loose dishevelled tresses thrown 
 Wildly o'er her panting breast, 
 Drooping hands and marble brow, 
 The dews of coming death confessed ; 
 Rapt in holy thought, her eye ' 
 Sought, as she lay, with trembling glance, the sky. 
 
 " The wailing ceased ; the solemn prayer 
 Rises from the choral band, 
 Upon the death-cold countenance 
 Descends a gentle hand ; 
 And o'er the azure eye-balls' light, 
 Spreads the last veil of never-ending night. 
 
 " Lady, from thy troubled mind, 
 Chase each earth-born hope and joy ; 
 Prayer, the broken-heart's oblation, 
 Yield to GOD, and die ! 
 Far from realms of time and space, 
 Is thy long suffering's resting-place. 
 
 4 Goethe's Werke, vol. xxxviii. p. 296.
 
 234 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 " All ! such thy unrelenting fate, 
 Sad mourner here below, 
 Thy prayer for forgetfulness 
 Ungranted still to know ; 
 At length affliction's sacrifice, 
 Unto the Lord of Saints, in sainted grief, to rise. 
 
 " When those sleepless shades among, 
 That cloister's holy aisle, 
 Those altars ever worshipped 
 By the virgin's holy toil ; 
 E'en there, amid the vesper strain, 
 Rushed on her thought the days that may not be again, 
 
 " While yet, beloved, and careless 
 Of the morrow's treacherous chance, 
 In pleasure's maddening ecstasy, 
 She breathed the gales of France ; 
 And mid the Salian daughters there, 
 Went forth the most admired, the fairest of the fair ; 
 
 " When, her bright hair decked with jewels, 
 From some watch-tower's lofty place, 
 She beheld each object, instinct 
 With the tumult of the chase j 
 While, bending o'er his slackened rein, 
 
 The Monarch, with his flowing hair, came thundering o'er 
 the plain. 
 
 " Behind him came the fury 
 Of the fiery snorting steed, 
 The rapid flight, the quick return, 
 Of hounds in breathless speed ; 
 And, from his penetrated lair, 
 The saviige boar rushed forth, with fiercely bristling hair. 
 
 " Pierced by the Royal archer's shaft, 
 His heart's-blood dyes the trampled plain ; 
 See, from the ghastly sight, she turns 
 To her attendant maiden train ; 
 Her shrinking face, with sudden dread, 
 All lovely in its agony, with paleness overspread. 
 
 " Oh ! Aquisgrano's s tepid stream ! 
 Oh ! Mosa's wandering flood ! 
 Where, the rough chase's tumult o'er, 
 His mail unclasped, the warrior stood; 
 Beneath whose ever-freshening wave, 
 
 His limbs, with noble toil-drops stained, the Monarch loved 
 to lave. 
 
 Aix-la-Chapelle.
 
 MANZONI. 235 
 
 "As the dew-drop softly falling 
 On the burnt and withered plain, 
 To the scorched and faded herbage, 
 Gives the vital juice again ; 
 Till in its former glory smile, 
 With renovated verdure, the once-parched and sickly soil : 
 
 " So o'er the harassed spirit, 
 Which an earthly love has broken, 
 Descends the gracious influence 
 Of a word, in kindness spoken ; 
 Until its gently healing 1 art, 
 To another and a calmer love, diverts the aching heart : 
 
 " Alas ! but as the morrow's sun 
 Climbs the heaven's fiery way, 
 The still and heated atmosphere 
 Consuming with its ray : 
 Rewithering all around 
 
 The slender grass, just lifted from the freshly moistened 
 ground. 
 
 "Thus, though lost in brief oblivion, 
 Will immortal love return, 
 And the spirit, unresisting, 
 With its wonted fervour burn; 
 Recalling to their well-known grief, 
 
 The thoughts, that vainly wandering, sought a permanent 
 relief. 
 
 " I-ady, from thy troubled mind 
 Chase each earth-born hope and joy ; 
 Prayer, the broken-heart's oblation, 
 Yield to GOD and die ; 
 Die, and let the sacred earth 
 Thy tender reliques hide, tiie witness of their birth. 
 
 " Rest, Lady, rest ; in still repose 
 Grief's other victims lie ; 
 Wives, whom the sword left desolate, 
 Virgins betrothed in mockery, 
 Mothers (oh agony !) compelled to hear 
 The shrieks of dying sons yet writhing on the spear. 
 
 " Thee from Royal lineage sprung, 
 Prom th' oppressor's guilty race, 
 Who found in coward numbers strength, 
 In reason insult, and in right disgrace ; 
 In blond their privilege, their pride, 
 Remorseless to have lived, remorseless to have died :
 
 236 STODIKS ix ITALIAN LITERATUBE. 
 
 " Thee kind misfortune lower placed 
 Amid the suffering crowd ; 
 Have then thy rest - their pitying tears 
 Shall deck thy early shroud; 
 No word of insult shall be said, 
 No act defile the ashes of the cold and blameless dead. 
 
 " Die, and to thy lifeless face 
 That peaceful calm restore, 
 Which, the future unpresaging, 
 Rapt iu present bliss it wore; 
 While with thyself alone, 
 
 Sweet converse held the happy thoughts beneath the virgin's 
 zone. 
 
 " Thus, from the riven thunder-clouds 
 The setting sun unrolled, 
 And the shadowy mountain', mantled 
 In a flood of trembling gold, 
 Unto the pious swain betray 
 An omen, as he gazes, of the morrow's brighter day." 
 
 R. P. 
 
 There is only one chorus in the "Conte di Carmagnola," 
 which describes in vigorous language the din and fray of 
 the battle, in the midst of which there is no confusion ; 
 and the poet contrives to carry his own conviction of the 
 wickedness of civil war home to the mind of the reader. 
 The rather obscure passages of history which serve as a 
 basis to each of these two tragedies are carefully illustrated 
 by the author in historical notes. 
 
 The work of Manzoni which is best known is probably 
 " I Promessi Sposi." It has been translated into all 
 European languages, and has been as popular can more 
 be said 1 as an historical romance by Sir Walter Scott. 
 It was founded on the model which he furnished ; it had, 
 like his works of this kind, for its object to amuse, interest, 
 teach, and improve the reader, to make a particular 
 portion of history stand, as it were, alive before him. 
 History supplied certain facts and dates, imagination 
 peopled the place and the times with living persons 
 dressed in the manners and costumes of the epoch, whose 
 actions and fortunes were so interwoven with the true 
 facts of history as to make the reader interested in the 
 former necessarily acquainted with the latter. The object 
 of Sir Walter Scott and Manzoni did not end here, but
 
 MAKZONI. 237 
 
 both strove to show that " Virtue alone is happiness 
 below." Both refused to make vice attractive ; both 
 thought that to do so in the course of the romance, even 
 though in the end it were punished, was high treason 
 against morality and religion. Perhaps of Manzoni it 
 may be more truly said than of any other successful 
 writer of romance, that his work contained " no line 
 which dying he could wish to blot." The scene of " I 
 Promessi Sposi " is Milan and the neighbourhood of Como 
 and the Italian lakes : the time is the early part of the 
 seventeenth century. The love-story of simple good 
 persons, Renzo and Lucia, affords the opportunity for 
 exposing the vice and virtues, the customs and manners, 
 lay and clerical, of the epoch, and of introducing an 
 account of that most terrible of Divine chastisements 
 recorded in history the plague, which ravaged Milan 
 and its "contorni" in 1G30. To attempt to describe 
 what Thucydides, Lucretius, Boccaccio, and Defoe had 
 described was a bold undertaking, but it was successful, 
 as any reader of the thirty-first chapter of the third 
 volume may see, and mainly because Manzoni imbued 
 his narrative with the spirit of contemporaneous and 
 original memoirs which he carefully consulted. He 
 speaks wisely, and with full experience of the living in- 
 communicable "power" which such records possess. 6 
 The never-failing tendency of such a visitation to disclose 
 the worst and the best features of corrupt humanity appears 
 in these pages, as in the everlasting record of the plague 
 at Athens. Among the many philosophical passages in 
 this romance, the effect of famine upon the minds as well 
 as the bodies of the sufferers, and the increase of its 
 inherent evil by a legislation which vainly attempts to 
 alter the laws of nature, are forcibly described. The 
 romance would be well worth reading were it only for 
 the study of the characters, which are in truth so well 
 known that it is only necessary to touch slightly upon them. 
 The author does not fall into the mistake of making 
 either his hero or his heroine too perfect. Kenzo, bold, 
 
 6 " Forza viva, propria e per dir cosi incomtminipabile vi sia nelle 
 opere cli quel genera comui;que concepite e coudotie."
 
 238 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 enterprising, aud impetuous, is weak-minded and easily 
 led into snares, witness the scene in the "Osteria" at 
 Milan, but misfortune tends to strengthen and develop 
 his character ; and when at the last he shows himself 
 capable of a great and noble effort in the forgiveness of 
 his enemy, Don Rodrigo, the reader feels he has earned 
 the happiness in store for him. Lucia's character is 
 gentle and retiring, and her instincts, always good, are 
 sirongly opposed to ihe kind of irregular marriage which 
 her mother compels her to attempt as a mode of extri- 
 cation from their difficulties. The account of the failure 
 of this attempt makes one of the most spirited chapters 
 in the book. This is the only instance of her principles 
 failing her. Afterwards they guide her straight through 
 the terrible dangers which beset her path, such as the 
 scf ne in the Innominato's castle, where by her firm faith 
 and simple eloquence she becomes the first instrument of 
 his conversion and change of life, while her gentle, loving 
 nature easily leads her to forgive those who had caused 
 her so much misery. The really fine characters which 
 claim, if it may be so said, the personal affection of the 
 reader, are Fra Cristoforo and Federigo Borromeo, Arch- 
 bishop of Milan. The character of the first, to which the 
 clue is given in the history of his youth (chap, iv.), speaks 
 in Ids actions, the fruit of a life of self-denial and humi- 
 liation imposed in order to atone for the crime of his 
 youth, committed in a moment of fierce passion From 
 that time, from the moment of his asking forgiveness of 
 thuse whom he had wronged, aud accepting the " bread 
 of pardon," a portion of which he preserves in his wallet 
 as a perpetual reminder of his fault, wherever there is a 
 good deed to be done we find him, comforting his poor 
 Iriends Eenzo and Lucia in their hour of need, confronting 
 the villain in his castle, and for their sakes patiently 
 swallowing his insolent words, nursing for three months 
 the pi ague -stricken people in the Lazzaretto at Milan, and 
 dying from the exhaustion consequent upon these labours, 
 but not before he has forced Kenzo to forgive his enemy, 
 and absolved Lucia from her rash vow. The character of 
 Federigo Boiromeo claims at once admiration for the 
 holiness, harmony, and repose which are its chief features,
 
 MANZONI. 239 
 
 made more striking by contrast with the violent scene in 
 the Innominato's castle, which immediately precedes the 
 introduction of the Archbishop into the story. We feel, 
 indeed, that " his life is like a stream of pure water 
 issuing from the rock clear and limpid, pursuing its long 
 course through various countries, without once stagnating 
 or suffering its waters to be troubled, and throwing itself 
 still pure and sparkling into the river. . . . He had the 
 firm conviction that life is not intended to be a burden 
 for many and a feast for only a few, but to all alike a 
 serious business, for which each will have to give an 
 account : and from his childhood he sought how he could 
 best render his existence at once useful and holy " (chap, 
 xxi.). And this beautiful description of his character 
 forms a fit introduction for the affecting scene between 
 the Archbishop and the Innoniinato. Don Abbondio, 
 the weak priest, plays a middle part between the virtuous 
 and the vicious in the story. Excluded from the first 
 category by his selfishness and cowardice, his vices are 
 not of a sufficiently positive nature to place him distinctly 
 in the latter class. Still Manzoni is careful to point the 
 moral, showing how great mischief may be caused by such 
 mere negative qualities, as all the calamities in the story 
 date from his refusal to perform his duties from motives 
 of personal fear. The vicious characters are drawn with 
 much vigour, and probably only too much truth. Two of 
 the most remarkable passages in the work represent the 
 agony of mind they undergo : Don Rodrigo when cut 
 down by the plague in the midst of his career of crime 
 (chap, xxxiii.); and the Innominate ("the tameless 
 One "), that other strange character, whose stony heart is 
 melted by the prayers of Lucia, and who in the bitter- 
 ness of his remorse is twice on the point of committing 
 suicide, were it not for his half belief in " something 
 after death " (" se c' e quest' altravita"). The changes 
 which take place in his mind before he seeks the 
 Archbishop are admirably portrayed. The minor cha- 
 racters " Agnese," "Perpetua" who often make the 
 comic elements of the story, are so described as to give 
 that light and shade which makes the particular charm 
 of the work.
 
 240 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 The " Colonna Infame " is an historical treatise, written 
 as a kind of supplement to the " Promessi Sposi," 7 and 
 intended to illustrate that portion (chap, xxxi.) which de- 
 scribes the plague at Milan in 1630. In the panic caused 
 by the pestilence there grew up a strange popular belief 
 that the disease was purposely spread by persons who 
 were supposed to anoint (ungere) the walls of the streets 
 and houses of Milan with a fatal poison. Were it not 
 for the careful explanation contained in this chapter of 
 the "Promessi Sposi," it would be incredible that so pre- 
 posterous an accusation should have obtained any credit. 
 Manzoni traces it back to the very beginning of the plague, 
 which spread with such fearful rapidity because the 
 magistrates, who formed a Sanitary Commission, persisted 
 in denying the reality of the dreaded and horrible disease, 
 and refused to take the necessary precautions against it. 
 The belief that a class of persons existed capable of 
 deliberately spreading the infection by poison once es- 
 tablished, the accusation was soon fastened upon some 
 unfortunate victims. Their innocence of a crime which 
 had never been committed, was of no avail in the eyes of 
 judges predetermined to find them guilty. After the 
 horrible custom of those times, they were put to the 
 torture and forced to denounce themselves. Nor did the 
 falsehood thus wrung from them avail them. They were 
 put to death with circumstances of horrible cruelty : the 
 house of II Barbiere Mora, the supposed preparer of the 
 poison, was razed to the ground, and the " Colonna In- 
 fame " raised upon the site to record his infamy. Till the 
 year 1778, when it was pulled down, it might have been 
 said of this, as of our City Monument, that it, 
 
 " Pointing at the skies, 
 Like a tall bully, lilts the head and lies." 
 
 Manzoni proves in his treatise, where the contemporary 
 evidence of this disgraceful trial is carefully sifted, that 
 the Column of Infamy recorded the guilt of the judges 
 and not of their victims. Perhaps the preface to this 
 work is the most striking part of it. Pietro Yerri, in his 
 
 7 " I Promessi Sposi," chap, xxxii. vol. iii. p. 236. " Piserbaudo 
 ptro ad un altro scritto la uairazioue di quelli (unzioni di Aiilaiio)."
 
 MAXZOXI. 241 
 
 " Observations upon Torture," which were suggested \)y 
 the same horrible occurrence just alluded to, draws an 
 inference as to the uselesmess as well as the cruelty of 
 that method of procedure for the discovery of crime. But 
 Manzoni, Beccaria's grandson, goes deeper in'. o the subject. 
 It is not so much the cruelty, though that tills him with 
 horror, as the flagrant injustice of the proceeding, which 
 is so revolting lo his just mind: "The horrible victory 
 of falsehood over truth, of armed fury over defenceless 
 innocence." The labour which he has spent upon this 
 work will not, he adds, " be wasted if the indignation 
 and loathing which must result from the study of such 
 horrors are turned against those sinful aiid revengeful 
 passions, which cannot be discarded like false systems, or 
 laid aside like bad institutions, but which by the con- 
 templation of the hateful end to which they lead, may on 
 other occasions be rendered less ungovernable in their 
 fury and less fatal in their results." 8 Manzoni's energies 
 were next employed in refuting an attack upon the 
 Catholic Faith contained in Sisiuondi's " Histoire des 
 Republiques Italiennes " (tome xvi. p 410). He entitled 
 the book " Osservazioni sulla Morale Cattolica," and it 
 refutes the position that attacks upon the dogma, rites, 
 and sacraments of the Church deserve to be called 
 Philosophy. 
 
 The life of Manzoni is best related in his works, for he 
 took no part in the political afiairs of his country, and, 
 for the last forty years, has lived chiefly in retirement. 
 We only hear of his being made a Senator of the kingdom 
 of Italy in 1860 ; and in 1868, in spite of his advanced 
 age, he assisted in preparing a report on producing i nity 
 of speech throughout Italy, taking for a basis the Flo- 
 rentine language. There are but few details of his piivate 
 life either to be collected. He married, in 1807, En- 
 richetta Luigi Blondel, to whom he dedicated his tragedy 
 of the "Adolchi." She died in 1833, and he afterwards 
 married again. He appears to have left no son worthy of 
 the name, his son Pietro having pre-deceased him, to 
 whose children, Renzo, Vittoria, Giulia, and Alessandra, 
 
 * " Colonna Infame," Introduzione, p. 15.
 
 242 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 he has bequeathed his manuscripts (" Autografi "). His 
 will contained no disposition with regard to his funeral. 
 It has heen well said of Manzoni that he himself, like his 
 hero of the " Cinque Maggio," took up bis position be- 
 tween two ages (" s' assise tra due secoli"), and that the 
 undying wreath which his genius prepared for the head of 
 Napoleon really rests upon his own brow ; certainly the 
 events of thelast few years have proved that his empire over 
 the hearts and minds of his countrymen rests on a more 
 solid foundation than that which was based upon the 
 brilliant but ephemeral victories of Buonaparte. Manzoni 
 questioned posterity as to the reality of Napoleon's glory 
 
 " Fu vera gloria ? . . . ai poster! 
 L' ardua sentenza." 
 
 Posterity is answering, if it has not already answered, in 
 the negative. Manzoni's laurels were never tarnished 
 by envy, hatred, malice, uncharitableness, or wickedness. 
 There is something inexpressively beautiful and elevating 
 in his old age Retired from the tumult of the world, 
 feeding himself on literature, cheered and animated by 
 religion, modest in the extreme, receiving visits from every 
 distinguished person who passed through Milan, accepting 
 with courtesy, but without emotion, the homage of princes, 
 with the one exception, it is said, of Victor Emmanuel, 
 who had fulfilled the Poet's dream the Unity of his 
 much-loved Italy. He returned, and it is narrated as an 
 exception, the visit of the King of Italy. For, says an 
 eloquent writer, probably his friend Signor Bonghi, in the 
 Perseveranza of the 29th of May, " He had two faiths 
 one in the truth of Catholicism, another in the future 
 of Italy and the one, whatever was said, whatever hap- 
 pened, never disturbed the other. In anxious moments, 
 when the harmony between the two was least visible, he 
 expected it the most, and never allowed his faith in the 
 one or the other to be shaken. Rome he wished to be 
 the abode of the King ; Rome he wished also to be the 
 abode of the Pope. Obedient to the Divine authority of 
 the Pontificate, no one passed a more correct judgment 
 upon its civil character, or defended with more firmness, 
 wLen speaking upon the subject, " the right of the State."
 
 MANZONI. 243 
 
 It is really not an exaggeration to say that Italy wept over 
 his bier, while it has been calculated that a hundred thou- 
 sand persons were actually present at his funeral. It is 
 to be hoped that this intense appreciation of piety, patriot- 
 ism, genius, and mental culture may supply a happy omen 
 for the future of Italy, to use her lost poet's expression 
 
 " Augurio di piu sereno di." 
 
 ADDENDUM. 
 
 AN autograph letter by Manzoni hitherto unpublished has 
 appeared in print since this Essay was written. It was 
 edited by the Marchese Filippo Raffaelli, Bibliotecario 
 della Communale di Fermo, and a translation of the letter 
 is now appended to the foregoing sketch of the life of 
 Manzoni, as a further illustration of the generosity of his 
 disposition. 
 
 The circumstances which gave rise to the letter were 
 as follows : 
 
 A hostile criticism, entitled "Dubbi intorno gl' Inni 
 Sacri di Alessandro Manzoni," by Giuseppe Salvagnoli 
 Marchetti di Empoli, was printed at Macerata in 1829. 
 Luigi Fratti di Reggio, a lawyer, undertook to defend 
 Manzoni, but wrote to him previously on the subject, 
 asking him to explain certain difficulties connected with 
 the disputed points. To this Manzoni, alter courteously 
 thanking his would-be advocate, replied, 
 
 " It has been my invariable custom to remain outside 
 any disputes as to Italian literature, even when they pro- 
 fessed to be merely amicable disputes, and not only to 
 remain outside but to ignore them entirely when I found 
 myself in any way the subject ot them. Now your pro- 
 posal is that not only should I embark in one of these 
 disputes, but in one which entirely concerns my own 
 humble efforts, and this adds a special repugnance to the 
 dislike I feel to any dispute of the kind. You must 
 therefore excuse me it I otier no explanation of the passages 
 which appear to you difficult ; indeed they are not worth 
 R 2
 
 244 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 the attention you propose to bestow on them, because words 
 should speak for themselves in the first instance, and if 
 they do not and require explanation, they are not worth 
 it. Pray do not think I presume, either upon your good- 
 will towards me, or on the privilege of my age and experi- 
 ence if I beg you to desist from an undertaking which isonly 
 prompted by too partial an opinion of my writings. The 
 time and talents you propose to spend in this way could 
 be far better otherwise employed. Just consider of what 
 little importance is poetry in the world, and then the special 
 insignificance of my share in it. What does it signify 
 whether my verses are good or bad? Are they worth the 
 dispute *? Consider also that for the same reason such 
 disputes become necessarily more complicated in a pro- 
 portionate degree to their insignificance ; the more heated 
 the discussion they provoke, the more fruitless is the 
 result. Such disputes arise from no other cause than 
 from the necessary absence of that common general ac- 
 ceptance which appertains, as a general rule, to matters 
 ot greater importance, and which anticipates all dispute. 
 From this alone may we expect a decision at once prompt, 
 momentous, and lasting. Outside this category the points 
 at issue may be manifold, variable, complicated, and their 
 solution arbitrary, conflicting, and transitory, as must 
 be of necessity the private opinions which they germinate; 
 these form the elements of a decision only applicable to the 
 disputed point and are no test lor the future." 
 
 It is an accepted fact that Manzoni, as the founder 
 of a new school, had both enthusiastic admirers and 
 bitter detractors. There is not one of his works which 
 has not been the subject of censure. But, as we see 
 from the foregoing letter, the natural temperance and 
 sweetness of his disposition forbade him either to enter 
 the lists in his own defence, or to allow any one else to 
 enter them for him. 
 
 Fratti unhappily was not dissuaded from his purpose. 
 The defence of the Hymns was published anonymously, 
 and was the cause of a fierce discussion upon their merits 
 and demerits which was carried on in the newspapers and 
 reviews. 
 
 But Manzoni adhered to his resolution of taking no
 
 MANZONI. 245 
 
 part in the discussion, and the only exception to his 
 rule was made in favour of his " Morale Cattolica," which 
 he justified from the accusations brought against it by 
 Sismondi in his " Storia delle Republiche Italiane." Who- 
 ever reads the preface to this defence cannot fail to be 
 struck by the delicacy of feeling, the modest wisdom, and 
 the love of justice exhibited in the character of a man 
 whose goodness of soul was only equalled by his natural 
 genius and great store of acquired knowledge. 
 
 Frequently the target for criticism and attack, he never 
 made any retaliation, but accepted all with Christian 
 toleration,, trusting to the intrinsic merit of his works for 
 their ultimate triumph over unjust depreciation. Injuries 
 arid abuse he met with dignified silence, oblivion, and 
 complete forgiveness. In this respect he- has left an ex- 
 ample which may well be imitated in the literary world.
 
 246 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 ALEAEDO ALEAEDI. 
 
 " Pallicla vita ! e tu saresti il grande 
 Avvfiiimeiito degli umani e il t-olo? 
 11 Passato e una larva, a cui 1' oblio 
 Va scancellando i languidi profili ; 
 II Preseute non altro 6 che il veloce 
 Avvenire che arriva." 
 
 (Canti di Aleardo AJenrdl. 
 " Lettere a Maria," p. 155.) 
 
 ALEARDO ALEARDI has been described by a native critic, 
 like Napoleon in Manzoni's Ode, as alternately " nella 
 polvere" and "sugli altar." " Suli altar," when his 
 poetry thrilled through Italian hearts, and nerved them 
 to the great struggle for the liberty of their country ; 
 "nella polvere" when, that liberty being accomplished, 
 they could, from the safe shore of their assured freedom, 
 "turn to the perilous, wide waste, and stand and gaze." 
 But although the comparison may contain some elements 
 of truth, it would be an injustice to Italy to take it in its 
 literal sense. Aleardi's countrymen would be the last to 
 strip the leaves from the poet's laurel, even though the 
 crown may have been hastily adjudged; nor would they 
 be likely to scan with too cold a criticism the fervent 
 lines which emboldened them to break free from the 
 hateful foreign yoke. 
 
 Aleardo Aleardi was born at a period when that yoke 
 was most oppressive. Venetian Lombardy had again 
 fallen into the hands of Austria; and the faint hope 
 once cherished by the population as to the preservation of 
 those privileges which, as a Cisalpine Republic, they had 
 enjoyed under the Empire of the first Napoleon, was soon 
 dissipated. Austria held them once more in her iron 
 grasp. All trace of nationality, patriotism, or historical 
 tradition must be obliterated. The Austrian flag waved
 
 ALEAEDO ALEARDI. 247 
 
 once again over the fair plains of Lombardy ; and under 
 this banner the flower of her youth were compelled to 
 fight in far-off countries whenever it was the good pleasure 
 of a prince whose name was scarcely familiar to them, and 
 for a nationality not their own. 
 
 Verona was chosen by the Austrian Empire for the 
 headquarters of their administration, and here the sur- 
 veillance was so strict that the press was subjected to 
 severe censure, and all newspapers were forbidden except 
 the Gazetta di Milano, the organ and instrument of the 
 Government. 
 
 At this crisis, and in this the centre of the struggle 
 between oppression and patriotism, Aleardo Aleardi was 
 born. He was of noble birth, the last of his line, one of 
 the oldest families in Verona, but his patrimony was small. 
 His parents, Giorgio and Maria Canali, belonged to the 
 class of small landowners which, abound in Italy, and 
 more especially in Lomhardy, where the property is much 
 subdivided. 1 The father, alter having taken some slight 
 part in the political strife to which his native country was 
 a prey, saw the ancient Eepublic of Venice succumb before 
 the French arms. He watched with anxiety the develop- 
 ment of the new system of government introduced with 
 such large promises of liberty by the invading foreigner, 
 and, mistrusting their fulfilment, he withdrew from the 
 field of politics to spend the remainder of his life in 
 domestic retirement. He had two children only, one 
 daughter, Beatrice, and one son, Aleardo Aleardi. 
 
 We pass briefly over Aleardi's childhood. It gave but 
 little promise of the genius which was to show itself in 
 after years. Eemoved from his home before he was ten 
 years old, and placed in the College of Santa Anastasia, 
 he pined for the love and tenderness of his mother, the 
 delightful freedom of his country rambles, and drooped 
 like a flower rudely transplanted from its native soil. 
 He lost all the spring and joy of childhood, became taci- 
 turn and morose, was disheartened as to his studies, 
 often in disgrace, the lowest in the school, nicknamed, by 
 his schoolfellows, the "talpa" (mole), the more to signify 
 
 1 " Epistolario di Aleardo Aleardi," pp. 101, 102.
 
 2i8 STUDIES IN ITALIAN L ITERATORS. 
 
 his incapacity. For six years he was in this way the 
 despair of his masters, the cause of the bitterest disap- 
 pointment to his parents. The poetry of Virgil seems at 
 List to have roused his dormant faculties. A new interest 
 awakened in his mind, from which the clouds seemed 
 suddenly dispelled ; and his tutors, who had looked upon 
 the slowness of his progress as a marvel, were now 
 equally astonished by its rapidity. 
 
 The impetus so gained was sufficient to emancipate 
 him from the trammels of the school which had been PO 
 irksome to him. He left Santa Anastasia, and pursued 
 his studies at the most ancient and celebrated University 
 of Italy. Padua, while under the wing of the Lion of 
 S. Mark, had been the resort of the most learned profes- 
 sors of Europe ; but under the Austrian supervision it 
 had lost much of its power and reputation, the Govern- 
 ment being guided in their choice of the professors by 
 political intrigue, paying little regard to their proficiency 
 in science. Here, then, Aleardi continued his education, 
 adding to the drier study of the law a careful training 
 in the physical and natural sciences, the fruit of which 
 often appears in his poetry. But while his mind be- 
 came gradually enriched with different stores of learning, 
 the idea of patriotism remained predominant. He read 
 Dante, and then, casting a glance over his country, per- 
 ceived how little the people, divided, oppressed, and 
 enslaved, responded to those earnest appeals, which had 
 struck a responsive chord in his own heart ; and the 
 longing to inspire them with the same enthusiasm grew 
 daily more strong within him. A few stray pieces of 
 political po try, while they revealed his patriotic aspira- 
 tions, easily won for him the poet's laurel, and made him 
 the central figure among his fellow-students. Even these 
 trifling verses did not escape the vigilance of the Austrian 
 police. Their suspicions, once awakened, fastened them- 
 selves upon the unhappy Aleardi, and from that moment 
 he was closely watched. 
 
 His favourite walking-stick, in the top of which was 
 inserted an ancient Italian lira,, bearing a crown, and the 
 inscription " Regno d' Italia," was looked upon with the 
 deepest suspicion. One day it was missing ; the next he
 
 ALEARDO ALEARDI. 249 
 
 was summoned before the police magistrate. "Did the 
 walking-stick belong to him?" showing the luckless cane. 
 " Why had it that emblem?" pointing to the lira. 
 " Because it was the first money that ever came into my 
 hand." replied Aleardi, undaunted. He was remanded, 
 but from that day his name was recorded with a black 
 mark in the Austrian books. 
 
 Aleardi, after this adventure, was more guarded in his 
 conduct and kept a careful watch over the manuscript of 
 the poetical composition in which he found a gfogo f<T 
 his patriotic ideas. These were only circulated among his 
 intimate friends, all more or less distinguished names 
 in modern Italian literature, Prati, Gazzoletti, Fusinato, 
 Somma, and Dell' Ongaro. 
 
 In the society of such kindred spirits, and in the midst 
 of all the gay carelessness of University life, gifted with 
 a boundless, restless imagination, he passed the years of 
 his early manhood. Eut the closing years of his studies 
 at Padua were darkened by a great sorrow, the death of 
 his mother. Her loss was keenly felt by Aleardi. He 
 sketches her portrait with reverent touches in some of 
 his most pathetic lines : " Give me back," he cries, with 
 passionate yearning, " the days of my youth 
 
 "That I may see my Mother's tender gaze, 
 Her lull dark eye. Didst thon not seem to me 
 As some fair pilgrim passing through the earth, 
 Or as the sun's sweet ray immaculate 
 Upon a stagnant waste ; or like the petals 
 Of a fragrant rose, too swiftly scattered 
 O'er the stream of time, and borne away ? 
 Yet in the inner chamber of my henrt 
 Thy perfume lingers yet. From thee first came 
 The fount of poetry which springs within, 
 And if perchance my Italy should shed 
 Some leaves from Fnme's bright wreath upon my brow 
 The Inurel crown shall wreathe thy sepulchre, 
 For it is thine." 2 
 
 In a short time another domestic tie equally precious 
 was severed. The husband only survived his wife two 
 years, and Aleardi and his sister Beatrice were left orphans 
 
 2 '' Un' Ora della mia Giovinezza," p. 8.
 
 250 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 in the world. Aleardi's early taste for poetry and his 
 poetical gifts, instead of being a cause of pride, had 
 always been a source of great uneasiness to his father. 
 Twice over he warned his son most emphatically against 
 putting himself "sulla via del poeta :" 
 
 " It will lead you all astray, and your life will never 
 cease to be restless and unhappy. Let poetry alone, and 
 choose instead a more sober and a more certain companion 
 for your life. Choose the law." 3 
 
 Aleardi promised, though with great reluctance, to 
 follow this advice, and, to please his father, on quitting 
 the University of Padua, continued his studies in juris- 
 prudence under the great jurist, Grassotti. For a little 
 time he persevered, but Nature had made him a poet, or 
 rather, as he says, with the modesty which characterized 
 him, had planted in his soul a rrost irrepressible " passion 
 for poetry, for it requires a good deal of courage to say 
 that one is a poet," 4 and he was at last constrained to 
 obey her dictates. But his poetry was to be no mere idle 
 day-dream ; he meant to be a " poeta civile," his country's 
 bard, destined, as he fondly hoped, in his youthful 
 enthusiasm, to accomplish the deliverance of Italy. 
 
 With this mission clearly before him, he composed his 
 first great poem ; but the moment was not yet ripe for an 
 open display of his patriotic views : so he retraces his 
 steps some 300 years, and borrows the robe of past history, 
 with which to clothe them. The theme could not fail to 
 be popular with Italians. It was the gallant defence of 
 Cyprus by the Venetian Republic against the Turks, and 
 particularly the siege of Nicosia. 
 
 Driven from pillar to post by the fierce attack of their 
 enemies, the brave handful of Christians were gathered 
 together in Nicosia, there to make one last stand against 
 the Turks. This is the scene of Aleardi's poem entitled 
 " Arnalda di Roca," from the heroine, a daughter of the 
 house of Roca, one of the noblest of the Cypriote families. 
 The Venetian historian Sagredi describes in a few quaint 
 words the incidents which form the argument of the 
 poem : 
 
 3 " Due Pagine Autobiografiche/' p. xiii. * Ibid. p. xiv.
 
 ALEARDO ALEARDI. 251 
 
 " On July 25, 1570, the Turks besieged Nicosia. 
 After fifteen vain assaults, at last, on September 9, they 
 entered the city by the breaches. Fifteen thousand 
 people were put to death, the rest sold for slavery. The 
 ruin of the city had been foretold by a comet. One ship, 
 amongst the other slave-laden ships, was freighted with a 
 cargo of beautiful Cypriote women destined a*s a present 
 for the Sultan. Among these Arnalda di Roca, worthy of 
 a crown rather than of chains, free of soul, if fettered in 
 body, seeing the fearful fate that was in store for her, set 
 fire to the ammunition, and blew the ship into the air. 
 ' Thus,' says the quaint historian, ' did she set on fire the 
 funeral pile of her country, to be born again as a Phoenix 
 to the glories of Heaven, and this was the last flame which 
 celebrated the obsequies of what had once been the 
 capital of a most flourishing kingdom.'" 
 
 This poem, " Arnalda di Roca," is supposed to have 
 been written on the anniversary of the loss of Cyprus. 
 On this day, and every other anniversary, which records 
 either a past disaster, or a past triumph, in the history 
 of the ancient Republic, the poet's fanciful conception 
 describes the ghost of the old Bucentaur putting out to 
 sea, carrying on board a goodly company of Doges and 
 Venetian statesmen, who, rising from their long-forgotten 
 tomb, set forth to revisit the scene of many a hard-fought 
 battle both by sea and land. 
 
 " This, then, is the day 
 That Cyprus fell, and thus a priceless pearl 
 Passed from the ducal diadem, to deck 
 The jewel-hilted sword, the reeking blade 
 Of yon Byzantine lord ! Lo ! yestere'en 5 
 
 In the dead hour of midnight, solemn, still, 
 While the forsaken gondolas lay chained 
 To the deserted shore, uor sound nor tread 
 Kroke the deep silence of the quiet streets, 
 The phantom semblance of the golden ship 10 
 
 Bucentaur rose and glided by. Her sails 
 Rent standards; and her oars, the rusting halberds 
 Of a bygone age; still from the high-curved prow 
 The dying lion watched the fated course 
 
 Whose broken wing flapped as an unfilled sail 15 
 
 In that dead calm. The porticoes 
 And stately steps, churches, and palaces, 
 Seemed as if alive with shadowy forms
 
 252 STUDIKS IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Rich in the garb of Doge or Senator ; 
 
 Who ever, as the phantom ship drew nigh, 20 
 
 Went forth to meet it, o'er those dark, still depths 
 
 Passing with trackless feet. They reach the deck, 
 
 Weird welcome interchanged ; the ship glides on. 
 
 But, as they pass the point where dash and foam 
 
 The breakers 'gainst the giant marble walls, 5 25 
 
 A gale mysterious arose, smd whence it came 
 
 None knew ; which urg'd them swift as lightning's flash 
 
 Through the dark clouds of night. Like frighted steeds 
 
 The Istrian shores flee from their sight, and next 
 
 Pola's deserted amphitheatre, 30 
 
 Dalmatia's rock-bound coast : along the line 
 
 Point after point appears, recedes, is gone : 
 
 Only one fragrant breath Corcyra wafts 
 
 From valleys fair, and orange- laden groves. 
 
 Still must the ship drive onwards on her course, 35 
 
 And ever as she speeds past cape and gulf, 
 
 Scenes of Venetian combat oft renewed, 
 
 Rise as the witness of those sturdy fights 
 
 Torn planks, masts, oars, and figure-head, 
 
 Forth from their sandy grave, hid fathoms deep, 40 
 
 And follow, swimming, in the phantom's wake. 
 
 But as they reach Lepanto's well-known shore, 
 
 Behold Lepanro's towers ; as if by touch 
 
 CH'niiigic wand, that strong wind fell ; the shades 
 
 In serried ranks drew to the vessel's side. 45 
 
 But vain the menace of the outstretched arm, 
 
 And vain the semblance of the glittering blade 
 
 Piercing the gloom ; while through Morea's gulf, 
 
 Epirus' long shore, the mutt' ring sound 
 
 Of imprecation, fierce and deep outburst, 50 
 
 In agonized laments, which fill the air. 
 
 The breeze returning gathered up the sound 
 
 And bore it onwards. Onwards stood the ship 
 
 Devouring spaces in her headlong course ; 
 
 Thy swelling hills, fair Cythfira, they pass, 55 
 
 Where the soft murmur of the turtle dove 
 
 Wakes gentle echoes in thy myrtle groves, 
 
 And Crete, where still, unsepulchred, 
 
 Her hundred cities lie. The eyrie next 
 
 Of Christian eagle, Rhodes, whose battlements, 60 
 
 Once mightiest, now black and shattered stand, 
 
 And, if in midnight voyage some passing bark 
 
 Come 'neath that fort, haply her sails might catch 
 
 The dim, faint outline of the warrior souls 
 
 Keeping a ghostly watch ; the crew, dismayed, 65 
 
 5 These sea-walls, called murazzi, were built of solid marble in the 
 year 1776.
 
 ALEARDO ALEARDT. 253 
 
 Spizecl with a mystic sense of loss and death, 
 
 Pause awe-strnck, shiv'ring in the cold night breeze. 
 
 Cyprus at length stretched forth her rocky arms, 
 
 The ship ran in, her phantom voyage was o'er, 
 
 And the sad shades dispersed throughout the isle." 8 70 
 
 Then follows the story. The scene is laid in Nicosia ; 
 the time, September 9, 1576. It is night, and the city, 
 closely invested by the Ottoman armies, is wrapped in 
 the deepest obscurity. But there stands the palace of 
 the " Koca," one of the noblest of the Cypriote families. 
 Dark against the midnight sky, a single lamp burns in 
 one of the windows ; it is flickering and paling before the 
 approaching dawn, which streaks with light the distant 
 Syrian sea. The beautiful Arnalda di lloca, the heroine 
 of the story, is seated at the balcony-window ; the for- 
 gotten lute is by her side ; the Bible, the " divin libro, 
 che primo 
 
 " Scritto dall" uom, fia letto ultimo in terra," 
 
 is open at the account of Judith's return from the 
 Assyrian's tent. Arnalda gazes out upon the night, and 
 in her thoughts she envies the Jewish heroine, for she is 
 distracted by the prospect of the impending ruin of her 
 country, which she has long foreseen. From her child- 
 hood, the gay companions of her own age, lair Cypriote 
 damsels, like herself, have called her in sport a prophetess, 
 because she would predict coming events from long habits 
 of observation, and the careful study of the book of 
 nature, wherein she learned to love "Dio, la patria, i 
 parenti." All her religion, her country, her father in 
 his old age, Xello (Sir di Saido), her betrothed knight 
 are now threatened by the approaching catastrophe ; and 
 if any thought of hope crosses her mind, it falls in- 
 stantly dead, as the hapless bird which flies over the 
 Dead Sea. There are some moments, Aleardi says, 
 when the sorrows of life are so desperate that they appear 
 to lift one corner of the veil of futurity and to enable 
 you to see beyond it. Arnalda, overcome with the sad 
 thoughts suggested by her prophetic soul, tormented by 
 the hot vapours which rise from the scorching plain, 
 
 6 " Cauti di Aleardo Aleardi," pp. 448 - 450.
 
 254 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEEATURB. 
 
 goes down into the garden, and there makes an agonized 
 prayer for the safety of her country and those she loves. 
 " Save, O Lord," she cries, " my father's hoary head, my 
 Nello's gallant heart, and if one of our house must fall a 
 martyr, let it be me alone." Absorbed in grief, she has 
 not noticed the clash of arms, the soldier's quick step. 
 Nello has heard the prayer of self-sacrifice, and stoops to 
 comfort her. Hope will not die in his breast so long as 
 there beats one loyal heart, or one lance remains to be 
 broken. But Arnalda points to the vacant space on the 
 top of the dome of the Santa Sofia of Cyprus, where the 
 cross had been shattered by the enemy's cannon, too 
 sure a presage of its future destiny in the infidel's hands. 
 Then, in the full certainty that death is coming upon 
 them, she relates to him an episode in her life, which she 
 had hitherto concealed from him : how that, when on a 
 pilgrimage with her father to the Holy Land, they had 
 been overtaken by a sand-storm in the desert, and would 
 have perished had it not been for a young Arab chief, then 
 an exile in the desert, now the head of the Ottoman 
 army. " He asked me," she adds, "for my love, but I had 
 none to give him, only gratitude and pity. Oh, my 
 Nello ! I have one boon to ask of thee : in the fierce hour 
 of battle do not aim thy blows at one who had com- 
 passion on my father as he lay fainting in the sultry 
 desert ! " The battle begins. Arnalda's father stands 
 upon the ramparts of his castle with no thought but for 
 his country and Arnalda. These two strong affections 
 grapple to his soul as closely as the ivy -which mantles 
 round the ancient battlements on which he leans. But 
 iu vain the courageous defence of the handful of Christians 
 against the hordes of Mussulman troops. " Oh ! " ex- 
 claims fihe Italian patriot, with his heart full of his own 
 country's wrongs, " is there a sadder sight upon this earth 
 than when a hapless nation as one man marches with 
 unflinching step into the very jaws of death, rather than 
 become the slave of the conqueror 1 " The Conte dei 
 Eoca rallies his men for one last sally, is mortally wounded 
 by an arrow sent from Assano j s (the Arab chieftain's) 
 bow, and is carried into a neighbouring church, and there 
 stretched at the foot of one of the royal tombs, while the
 
 ALEARDO ALEARDI. 255 
 
 setting sun streamed in purple rays through the painted 
 glass, the dying soldier opens his eyes to find his daughter 
 hanging over him. The dialogue between the father and 
 the daughter is very fine. 7 " Arnalda," he cries, " look 
 from the topmost window, what seest thou 1 " She, 
 struck to the heart with anguish, fearing to leave him, 
 yet anxious to obey his last commands, climbs with 
 tottering feet the stone steps in the belfry, gains the 
 highest window, whence she can see the whole of the city, 
 and the wide plain stretched out at its feet. The bat- 
 tering of the guns shakes the painted glass in the windows, 
 the vaults below give back the sound. There is a noise 
 of approaching steps. Arnalda descends in haste to 
 defend her dying father with her last strength. Nearer 
 and nearer comes the sound ; the gallop of a horse at 
 utmost speed.. It is here ; it is gone ; no, exactly in the 
 centre oi' the porch, it stays as of itself. For the first 
 time Arnalda turns pale. The dying Count recognizes the 
 well-known step. "Sir di Sa'ido," he cries, "is, then, all 
 lost 1 " Their worst fears are confirmed. The father 
 confides his daughter to ISTello's care, sees their hands 
 joined in betrothal, and expires. His eyes are scarcely 
 closed in death when the enemy bursts into the church. 
 Assano is at their head. " Sposa, siam perduti !" Nello 
 cries, as he springs to his feet to fight, sword in hand, 
 the last tight of despair. The crowd surrounded the two 
 combatants as at a tournament. The Lord of Sa'ido gains 
 a vantage-ground on a piece of broken column, and tights 
 with desperate courage. The curved blue scimitar of the 
 Infidel is about to fall on his bare head, when the horse 
 of the assailant loses its footing oti the smooth pavement, 
 and falls ; the hollow tomb beneath giving way beneath 
 his weight, horse and rider bite the dust, hello's victory 
 is certain, when, from the farther end of the church, there 
 comes the hiss of a baD, and he falls to the ground. Then 
 all is over. 
 
 The third and last canto relates the fate of Arnalda. 
 "When the fatal ball struck Nello she swooned ; and she 
 wakes from her trance to find herself in the power of the 
 
 7 " Caiiti di Al^ardo Aleardi," pp. 447, 448.
 
 256 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEKATCRE. 
 
 Mohammedan chief. In one instant the past flasliPil 
 back, the future dawned, she felt at the point of death. 
 " Ah ! hapless Arnalda, dost thou not know that griefs, 
 even the most awful, have not death at their call 1 " The 
 Ottoman fleet returns to Constantinople ; two ships, laden 
 with prisoners, make their sad way over the sea. Among 
 the Cypriote women the hap] ess freight of one bark is a 
 poor lady, half -crazed with grief, to whom, disregarding 
 her own depth of sorrow, Arnalda ministers. Because 
 
 " If e'er misfortune strike a noble heart, 
 It straightway yields its purest treasure forth ; 
 Treasures of love, unknown to happy days, 
 Making it tender of another's woes." 
 
 But if she is capable of the tenderest offices of pity, she 
 is also equal to the most heroic deeds of valour. The 
 vessel, continuing its voyage, passes the waters of Set- 
 taylia, calmed by the Sacred Relic, with which the 
 Empress Helena assuaged their fury when returning with 
 her inestimable prize from Golgotha. The imprisoned 
 damsels are allowed to breathe the soft evening air on the 
 deck ; and from a solitary height along the coast the bell 
 rings the Ave Maria. They fall on their knees ; Arnalda 
 recalls her mother's violated tomb, her father's unbnried 
 head, her Xello struck with mortal wound, and her lips 
 move in prayer for the dying and dead. All the while 
 the poor crazed soul measures the deck with her meaning- 
 less glance, accompanied with wild snatches of her native 
 song. On a sudden, Arnalda is moved by an inspiration 
 to attempt the deliverance of the unhappy captives. If 
 she fails, the worst that can befall her is death. Her 
 words, the prospect of liberty, have power to inspire the 
 poor stricken does with the rage of the lioness ; they 
 incite the galley-slaves to revolt, among whom is Nello, 
 not dead but wounded, with many of the warriors who had 
 so lately fought for their country, who now, chained to the 
 oar, are forced to conduct the vessel on her melancholy way. 
 Arnalda, with her own hands, sets Nello free. A 
 desperate tight ensues. The Ottoman crew are overcome, 
 and, for a brief period, the captive-laden ships are free. 
 " Cipro vincemmo," the Lord of Sa'ido once more utt< rs 
 his war-cry. " Fratelli, al remo ! " In the delirium of
 
 ALEAEDO ALE AUDI. 257 
 
 joy, as he clasps the hand of his hetrothed, the tears, 
 which no misfortune could wring from him, spring to his 
 eyes. Alas ! how brief the joy. Another ship appears 
 on the horizon. To arms ! to arms ! it is Hassan's ship ; 
 and silently, steadily, darkly, leaving a white track behind 
 her, she comes on. The fugitives crowd all sail in breath- 
 less agony and suspense, for there is no heart so brave 
 which does not palpitate at the approach of death ; and 
 when the dissolution draws nigh, the soul flies upwards to 
 meet " il Dio che s' avvicina." The chase is soon over ; 
 shot and shell fall like thunderbolts on the unhappy 
 vessel ; and in the brief succeeding pause the mountains 
 give back the echo. Once again the enemy is on board, 
 and the death-struggle begins. It is long and tierce ; 
 who does not know how desperately the free man will 
 fight, whose arms still bear the livid impress of the cap- 
 tive's chain ; and when the dawn arose it seemed as if 
 only the hollow shell of the ship floated upon the waters. 
 Arnalda, where art thou 1 Art thou hidden 1 Assano 
 seeks all over the wrecked ship for any trace of thee. Or 
 has Death taken thee into his merciful arms ? Silent, 
 wounded, more deathly pale than the vestal tapers which 
 burn before the nltars, her only trust in God, the daughter 
 of Eoca yet lives, crouched in the corner of the vessel 
 where a store of gunpowder remains unharmed, guarded to 
 the last with jealous care. There in dead silence she 
 waits for death. Alas ! even this last asylum is no 
 longer to be hers. The falcon has found the traces of the 
 wounded dove, and swoops down. The Arab conqueror 
 approaches with demoniac light in his eyes, followed by 
 two Ethiopian slaves. One carries a bowl filled to the 
 brim, and covered with cloth of gold. "I bring to my 
 Houri the most precious gem the East can produce to lay 
 at her feet." Then, with a demon's laugh, he threw back 
 the cover, and displayed the bleeding head of her be- 
 trothed. Arnalda let no look betray the horror of her 
 soul. She kneeled down : she raised her eyes to heaven, 
 and made her prayer to the great God of her fathers. 
 Then, with immovable calm, she took a pistol from her 
 bosom, applied the short barrel to the gunpowder, and, 
 with firm hand, drew the trigger. In an instant, living 
 
 s
 
 258 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and dead, the tyrant and the captive, tormentor and 
 the victim, the swift ships, the scene of the late deadly 
 strife, disappear amid a sheet of fire and clouds of smoke, 
 like the " baseless fabric of a vision." The foamy waters 
 part in circles to receive back in showers the fragments 
 which tell the tale of that destruction. " Tutto passo." 
 The calm which precedes the dawn smiles on the quiet 
 waters ; the silence returns to the lately- troubled air ; the 
 oranges and lavender upon the mountain-paths give forth 
 their first fragrant morning perfume ; the lark rises sing- 
 ing to heaven's gate; no trace of the late furious strile. 
 misery, and bitter hatred remains but the faint cloud of 
 smoke, which hovers over the water where the combat 
 raged. 
 
 And now the phantom ship again puts forth to sea on 
 her homeward voyage, and the stately shades troop back 
 to their tombs to pillow their heads in dust ; the Bucentaur 
 returns as she went forth, save that on her topmost yard 
 she bears the relic of a martyr ; that martyr who, as a 
 brilliant star, must ever shine in the firmament of the Cy- 
 prus skies. In these last lines Aleardi alludes to the 
 still more famous siege of Famagosta, and the martyrdom 
 of the hero Bragadino. 
 
 It was at one time his intention to have dealt with this 
 subject in a dramatic poem. He worked at it when in 
 villeggiatura with his sister Beatrice, to whom he was 
 passionately attached ; but the manuscript was lost, and 
 the poem never published. 
 
 His next poem, "Le Prime Storie," was dedicated to his 
 father. It was written in 1845, though it did not see the 
 light till 1857. 
 
 We have already alluded to the keen sympathy felt by 
 Aleardi for the fate of Lord Byron. His romantic death 
 in the cause of liberty, his enthusiastic poetry in praise of 
 their country, were still fresh in the minds of the Italians, 
 when Aleardi wrote one of his best poems, " II Monte 
 Circello," composed in imitation of " Childe Harold " It 
 was originally written in four cantos, but only one of these, 
 the last, was ever printed. Like " Childe Harold," Aleardi 
 had wandered all over Italy, and knew every inch of her 
 belovtd soil. The scene of his poem opens with a de-
 
 ALEARDO ALEARDI. 259 
 
 scription of the rock from which the poem takes its name,. 
 the ancient " Capo di Circe," at the western extremity of 
 the Pontine Marshes. It was the gentle twilight hour, 
 which seems like the kiss of peace to a fevered brow ; the 
 evening vapours were rising from the steaming plain; the 
 golden cloud of insects " nati al mattino e al vespero 
 gia vecchi " had but just disappeared, when a vision 
 passed before Aleardi's eyes. A phantom bard crowned 
 with laurel stood upon that cloud-capped summit ; his 
 long, hoary hair was confined by the Grecian band ; his 
 garments were rude and old, and he seemed to feel his 
 way like a blind man. When he struck the golden 
 chords of his lyre, he turned his face to the sea. And 
 then Aleardi recognized the blind bard, who, while the 
 earth was yet in her infancy, was Emperor of Song, who 
 told of the tierce wrath of Achilles, and Hector's cruel 
 fate, the wanderings of Ulysses, his wisdom and his re- 
 venge. The vision disappears at the end of the song, and 
 the sole vestige which remains of the mendicant bard 
 whose tattered garment was worth the robes of a hundred 
 emperors, is a branch of laurel. 
 
 Aleardi next descends into the famous Pontine Marshes, 
 the grave of many a forgotten city. This description of 
 the plain so fair and fruitful in appearance, but containing 
 in every furrow the germs of death to the reapers who 
 from generation to generation are sent down from the 
 Abruzzi to gather in the harvest, is looked upon as a 
 masterpiece by his native critics. 
 
 The Bay of Naples suggests the piteous fate of Conra- 
 dine of Swabia, familiar to us in the " Purgatorio" (xx. 
 67-9), but whose portrait as painted by Aleardi awakens 
 our sympathy anew : 
 
 " The youth, 
 
 Pale, beautiful, his locks of curliug gold, 
 His eyes the colour of the sapphire bay, 
 His open brow marked by misfortune's stamp. 
 
 . . . The Swahian star 
 Glittered in silver on his azure crest, 
 Still on his breast the Swabian eagle shone. 
 
 There on the scaffold pale and proud 
 And inid the surging crowd the gauntlet fluu 
 s 2
 
 260 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Who took it up, none knew ! but when the fated hour 
 Clashed from each steeple in Palermo's town, 
 That glove became a living hand, and tolled 
 The knell which summoned Anjou's hated race 
 Before the Throne of God." 9 
 
 Terracina, Anzio, and the AppianWay, with its hundred 
 miles of momirnents, temples, and tombs, bygone relics of 
 Koman splendour, are all treated in this, the one fragment 
 which remains to us of a much larger scheme. The poem 
 ends with an enthusiastic description of the dawn of 
 Creation and the origin of Italy. Some of the lines are 
 fine, but Aleardi was tempted by his love of physical 
 science to embark in an elaborate account of the geolo- 
 gical formation and development of his country, which 
 makes the conclusion complicated, and to the uninitiated 
 difficult to understand. 
 
 Aleardi's best composition was written in the following 
 year (1847): he called it "Lettere a Maria." It created 
 a great sensation in Italy at the time, and will probably 
 outlive his other works It is divided into two parts, 
 " L' Invito," and " L 'Immortalita dell' Anima." One of 
 Aleardi's biographers 9 tells us that originally there were 
 two more "Lettere a Maria," but that Aleardi in a fit of 
 passion, thinking they were not appreciated by the person 
 to whom he was reading them, threw them into the tire. 
 Their loss, says the biographer, is the more to be regretted 
 as the poet had often told him that they were the best 
 part of the work. We can judge what they must have 
 been by the two which remain, which contain some of his 
 most beautiful lines. ISJor is this surprising, when we 
 learn that "Maria" was his "Laura," and that his attach- 
 ment to her was as hopeless, as chivalrous, as romantic, 
 and as high-flown as that of Petrarch for Madame Laura 
 de Sade. Another biographer, writing in 1863, tells us 
 that the real Maria was at that time in existence, and that 
 after many years of harassing anxiety, and after having 
 advanced a long stage on the journey of life, she still 
 remembers with infinite delight her moment of triumph 
 when this poem first appeared, and made her the envy and 
 
 8 " Canti di Aleardo Aleardi,'' p 78. 
 
 <J " i'raiupolini," p. 7. See also "Epistolario," pp. 262, 263.
 
 ALEARDO ALEAHDI. 261 
 
 admiration of all her countrywomen. Who she was we are 
 not able to say ; that she no longer lives we gather from 
 a later poem of Aleardi's. 
 
 Among many beautiful passages in the "Lettere a 
 Maria" there is one which has a special interest for English 
 readers, as it is evident from it that Aleardi must have 
 been so impressed with Gray's " Elegy " as to reproduce 
 some of the ideas either consciously or unconsciously in 
 his own language. 
 
 The pathetic familiar features of the English church- 
 yard, "the rugged elms," and the ;" yew-tree's shade," 
 have no place in the Italian imagination, but we find 
 their counterpart in 
 
 " Quell' erboso ultimo lembo 
 
 Chiuso da bianco muricciuolo dove 
 
 Una selvetta pulluLi di croci ; 
 
 Quello e il nobile cumpo, ove anno i padri 
 
 De la villa riposo." 
 
 (" The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep.") 
 "We find the "blazing hearth" in the "Allegria del focolar 
 loquace;" the "cool, sequestered vale of lite" is rendered 
 by the lines 
 
 " E alcun vi fu che ne la ingrenua vita 
 Uni forme non seppe altro del mondo 
 Che quel campo, quel inonte, e qu^-lla cliiesa." 
 
 The "heart once pregnant with celestial fire" is suggested 
 by 
 
 " Un lldebrando, cui mailed la stola 
 Venerabile e i tempi ;" 
 
 and the parallel is very close between the " mute, inglo- 
 rious Milton" and the "occulto Pindaro sanz' arpa," the 
 " novo forse Napoleon, che non sortia la spada," and 
 " Some Cromwell guiltless of his country's blood." l 
 
 During the years 1846-7, the date of the two poems we 
 have just been considering, the Italians gave many a proof 
 of their ever-increasing hatred of the Austrian rule. They 
 longed for some one to give voice to their shuddering in- 
 dignation, to protest against the cruelty of their oppressors. 
 In Aleardi they found an apt representative of their aspi- 
 rations, and thus he obtained the wish of his heart in 
 becoming the bard of Italian liberty. When a new poem 
 
 1 See " Lettere a Maria," p. 160. " Cauti di Aleardo Aleardi."
 
 262 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 l>y Aleardi was announced, a feeling of hope sprang up 
 even in the most despairing hearts, and they blessed the 
 young poet who was not afraid to plead, in eloquent and 
 .pathetic lines, the cause of his country. At the first 
 outbreak in Venice, Aleardi was chosen by Manin to form 
 part of the Provisional Government, and was afterwards 
 despatched as ambassador on their behalf to Paris, to 
 enlist the sympathies of France in the cause of Italy. 
 
 Louis-Philippe was still on the throne. Every courtesy 
 was shown to the envoy, but Aleardi soon perceived that 
 little else was to be hoped for from his cold, selfish policy ; 
 still less from the revolution of June that same year, when 
 France was entirely engrossed with .her own affairs. Yet 
 indirectly the success of the French revolution of 1848 
 exercised a powerful influence upon the movement for 
 Italian freedom. By this time Carlo Alberto had cast in 
 his lot with Italy; he was at the head of affairs, and 
 Aleardi applied to the new Government for his recall, as 
 there was nothing to be gained by a longer sojourn in 
 France. 2 He left Paris, bidding adieu to Beranger, 
 Lamennais, 3 and Miekiewitz, with whom he formed an 
 enduring friendship, and returned to Italy, pausing for 
 some time in Florence, where a courteous reception from 
 Giusti and Capponi consoled him for his disappointment 
 in the failure of his embassy. Meanwhile the insurrection 
 was spreading in Italy. Bologna had risen to arms, and 
 Aleardi hastened to the scene of action, to render what 
 assistance he could. But the unequal struggle was soon 
 over, the city capitulated, and Aleardi returned to Florence, 
 till the entry of the Austrian troops ; thence to Genoa, 
 where he would have been content to remain, had he not 
 been summoned to Verona by the mortal illness of an old 
 friend, who had been his tutor, and had stood almost in 
 the place of a parent to him since his father's death. For 
 his sake, Aleardi exposed himself to the fury of the 
 Austrian Government against the revolutionist, and 
 arrived in time to minister to his friend during his last 
 moments. 
 
 Verona received Aleardi with open arms, as the patriot 
 
 2 " Epistolario di Aleardo Aleardi," pp. 2171. 
 
 3 Ibid. p. 52.
 
 ALEARDO ALEABDI. 263 
 
 who had done his utmost to ameliorate the condition of his 
 fellow-citizens. For some little time he remained undis- 
 turbed, till unhappily the Austrian Government recollected 
 that he had taken part in the too celebrated " Processi di 
 Mantua," and he was thrown into prison in October, 1852. 
 He was at first confined in the military prison of S. 
 Tommaso in Verona, from thence he was transferred to 
 Mantua. The treatment which Aleardi received at the 
 hands of the Austrians will be no surprise to those who 
 have read " Le Mie Prigioni," or Mr. Gladstone's eloquent 
 essays upon the sufferings of the Neapolitans. 4 Aleardi 
 was not chained to a fellow-sufferer, but in every other 
 point his condition seems to have been equally hard to 
 hear. The four prisons of Mantua being already choked 
 with victims of the Austrian tyranny, one cell only was 
 empty, so bad of its kind that it had hitherto been con- 
 sidered unfit for human occupation. Into this Aleardi 
 was now thrown. It was narrow, damp, and not only that, 
 but for eighteen hours of the day it was perfectly dark, 
 and during the remaining six a grey twilight was the 
 nearest approach to daylight. It contained literally no 
 furniture, save a mattress on the floor. His prison fare 
 consisted of two pani of black unleavened bread, which 
 were brought to him in the morning, and a plate of soup 
 later in the day. But neither solitude, nor obscurity, nor 
 the pangs of hunger, nor the restraint to a person of his 
 disposition most cruel to bear wrung from him a single 
 complaint. He bore all in patient silence, freely forgiving 
 in his heart those who were the cause of his sufferings. 
 These were not only physical but moral. For some time 
 he struggled against his anguish, and found some allevia- 
 tion in composing poems, which he afterwards entitled 
 " Ore cattive." They occupy more than thirty pages of 
 his collection of poems, 5 but they are inferior to his other 
 works, and this is not surprising when we remember the 
 circumstances in which they were written. After more 
 than six weeks spent in this abominable cell, he was 
 allowed to leave it for a short time in order to see his sister 
 
 4 Gladstone's " Gleanings," vol. iv. pp. 1 135. 
 
 5 ' Canti di Alcardo Aleardi," pp. 198219.
 
 264 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITKBATUEE. 
 
 in one of the guard-rooms in the presence of the soldiers. 
 His eyes, accustomed to the darkness in which he had 
 been confined, were so dazzled by the light of day, that at 
 first he could discern nothing. JBut as soon as he saw his 
 sister, he spoke to her with calm cheerfulness, and said he 
 Avas in want of nothing, lest she should be miserable in 
 thinking of his sufferings. On his return to his cell, how- 
 ever, when he was alone, he threw himself upon the 
 ground, where he remained for some hours in an agony of 
 grief and despair. After three months his prison was 
 changed, and for the better. He was now removed to one 
 of the highest stories, and here he had light and air, and 
 could see the cornice of the Basilica of S. Andrea (the 
 great work of Leon Battista Alberti), from whence the 
 pigeons flew to and fro, suggesting thoughts of liberty to 
 the unhappy captive. 
 
 He was still without books or means of writing, and had 
 not been able to commit to paper the poems which he had 
 composed. At last, as a great concession, he was given a 
 German grammar and dictionary, to the study of which, 
 glad of any occupation, he diligently applied himself. 
 One night in December his sleep was interrupted by 
 unaccustomed sounds, continued hammering, and marching 
 to and fro ; there appeared to be a general excitement. 
 At last he became aware that these were preparations for 
 the execution of some of the prisoners. A few days after- 
 wards Aleardi and many others of the remaining prisoners 
 were roused with the dawn, and conducted in prison- vans 
 to the Castle, where they were drawn up in a row ; the 
 list of names was called over, and by the silence which 
 followed upon the reading of some of the names, Aleardi 
 discovered which of his fellow-sufferers had fallen victims 
 to the Austrian bullets. They were then taken into a 
 piazza, while the rain poured down in torrents, and their 
 ] iardon was announced to them. Pardon ! for what ? 
 It will be remembered that from the moment Aleardi was 
 thrown into prison till the moment of his freedom, there 
 had been no question of examination or trial as to whether 
 he was innocent or guilty. 
 
 The Mantuans who had crowded round the gates of the 
 Castle, received the liberated prisoners with enthusiasm,
 
 ALEARDO ALEARDI. 265 
 
 and offered them every kind of hospitality: Aleardi 
 declined, fearing to expose his host to the future sus- 
 picions of the Austrians, and the next day returned to 
 his native city. The hardships which he had suffered in 
 prison had by no means daunted his courage, or diverted 
 him from his self-chosen career. 
 
 " Le Citta Italiane marinare e commercanti " ' was his 
 next work. From the dissolution of the Roman Empire, 
 the time when Italy, as an Empire, was laid in the 
 coffin (" discesa imperatrice entro la bara "), he traces the 
 existence which rises new-created from her ashes, and 
 follows each Republic through its own gallant history. 
 
 First, the "queen with an unequalled dower," Venice, 
 whose future S. Mark sees in a prophetic vision as he 
 sails past the desolate lagune on his way to Aquileia. 
 Before his eyes the phantom of a Byzantine Church 
 hovers on the horizon of that labyrinth of sandy islands 
 and reedy shores. There will his bones one day find an 
 honoured resting-place beneath the golden cupolas, and 
 over the portico : 
 
 " Scintilleranno egrei e impazienti 
 I destrier di Corinto." ' 
 
 Or, in Byron's words, which might almost stand for a 
 translation, 
 
 " Before S. Mark shall glow his steeds of brass, 
 Their gilded collars glittering iu the sun." 
 
 And while rivals still slept, her galleys sped to bring the 
 gems from the " exhaustless East," and pour them in 
 sparkling showers into her lap. Ease and indolence 
 followed upon such stupendous wealth, and other cities 
 pressed forward to dispute with her the sovereignty of 
 the seas. 
 
 First of all, Amalfi, with her well-known tavola 
 amalfitina of Roman law, and her discovery of the 
 compass. Then Pisa : 
 
 "And from the Arno's shore fair Amazon, 
 Pisa, all beauty, and all valour, came, 
 
 6 " Canti di Aleardo Aleardi," pp. 173, 187. 
 
 7 Ibid. p. 177.
 
 266 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEBATUEE. 
 
 In the spa joust an eager combatant, 
 
 Hiding triumphant on her fo'im-dashed prows, 
 
 As on the back of untamed battle-steed." 8 
 
 Genova, lionessa dell' onda, the suzerain of Pera, and who, 
 when the Old World did not yield sufficient wealth, 
 unlocked the golden storehouse of the New Hemisphere, 
 and cast its riches at the feet of Europe. 
 
 The Northern nations still lay wrapped in the slumber 
 of the dark ages, restrained and repressed by feudal law, 
 while the commonwealths of Italy were as hives of 
 industry in the garden of the sunny South. Many a 
 foreign palace glitters with Venetian crystals ; an empty 
 heraldic decoration was the only repayment Florence ever 
 received for the million of golden florins lent to the King 
 of England in his need. Happy the warrior, of whatso- 
 ever nation he be, if in mortal fight his breast is covered 
 with the corselet of Lombard steel. But now the crown 
 of Venetian glory is cast down : the garlands of flowers 
 which were showered upon her on the day of her annual 
 marriage with the sea she scatters like a new Ophelia, 
 one by one along her path. The tomb has closed over 
 even this memory of her glorious past, and all that 
 remains to her is " La speranza e Dio." 
 
 Early in the poem Aleardi alluded to the three 
 successive stages of Italian life : first the Etruscan, next 
 the Roman, and thirdly the Commercial and Maritime, 
 when Italy was divided into many rival Republics. 
 There was yet another existence in store for her, which 
 he lived to see, when she became a nation's kingdom, in 
 which the parts dissolved with the Roman Empire were 
 again united, and the several communities, laying aside 
 their rivalries and animosities, were combined in one 
 whole; so that at last the "gloria," which he prayed 
 for in the concluding lines of the poems, did indeed 
 dawn : 
 
 " Sui tre orizzonti della mia marina." 
 
 8 " Tremenda e bella 
 
 Tu pur scendevi alle marine giostre, 
 Balzando in cima alle spumanti prua 
 Come a selvaggi corridor! in selU,"
 
 ALEARDO ALEAKDT. 267 
 
 But in the year 1856, when the poem was first published, 
 this conjuncture of all the States in one independent 
 nation was characterized by contemporary writers as a 
 " dream of enthusiasm and folly, Cavour was, however, 
 laying the first stone in the building of the kingdom, by 
 his protest against the Austrian system of repression and 
 violent reaction, never relaxed since 1848-49, which he 
 laid before the Congress of Paris. The Italians were 
 momentarily calmed by the prospect of an amelioration 
 of their fate, but the negative result of the Congress 
 raised the revolutionary spirit afresh. Three years later, 
 and the noble little Kingdom of Sardinia again risked 
 her whole existence in the cause of her oppressed fellow- 
 countrymen. This time France came to the rescue, and 
 the era of Italian independence seemed about to dawn. 
 Aleardi again held aloft the nation's banner, in spite of 
 the perils with which he was surrounded, in his " Canti 
 Patrii, 9 some of which, he says, in a letter to a friend, 
 were written by twenty lines at a time with " i birri alia 
 porta," and then concealed. Often the hiding-place was 
 discovered, the papers destroyed, and the work had to be 
 done over again. But as the destroyed papers were always 
 replaced by Aleardi's fertile genius, it was not likely that 
 he would be long left at liberty during this the crisis of 
 Austrian rule of Lombardy. He was again arrested, his 
 papers were searched, and he was first consigned to a 
 prison in Verona, afterwards removed to Josephstadt, 
 where he was again visited by his sister Beatrice. She 
 was worthy to be called " Amore, Benedizione, Allegrezza 
 serena della mia vita agitata." In these terms he dedi- 
 cated to her one of his best compositions, "Accanto a 
 lioma," which contains a magnificent tribute to Dante. 1 
 Another equally fine passage paints with living touches 
 the portrait of the " divino infelice Tasso." 9 Two of his 
 companions were already condemned to death, and the 
 faithful sister was in an agony of anxiety. " But mind, 
 Beatrice," said Aleardi to her one day when she was with 
 him in his prison, " never entreat any one for my life. 
 
 9 Pp. 259 -297. 
 
 i " Canti di Aleardo Aleardi," p. 106. 2 Ibid. 113.
 
 268 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 I would rather die a thousand times than owe my life to 
 the favour of my country's enemy." 3 
 
 The Peace of Villafranca, while it destroyed his hopes 
 of the deliverance of his country, set him at liberty, 
 together with all the other political prisoners at Joseph- 
 stadt. 
 
 Aleardi repaired to Brescia, where he was the object of 
 the warmest sympathy and many a patriotic demonstra- 
 tion. He was offered the chair of Italian Literature at 
 the Institute Filosofico, at Milan. This he did not 
 accept, preferring the life of independence which he had 
 from the beginning marked out for himself. 
 
 But the next year, from his place of retirement, Aleardi 
 beheld the realization of his long-cherished hopes, beyond 
 his utmost expectations. It was the year 1860 ; the 
 whole interest of Europe fastened on Italy, when, says 
 the " Annual Eegister," " we have to relate, not the 
 obscure struggles of a faction, nor the- abortive attempts 
 of conspiracy, but the history of dynasties overthrown, of 
 the union of the !N r orth with the South of Italy in one 
 large kingdom, under the constitutional monarchy of the 
 House of Savoy." 
 
 To Garibaldi, who alike single-hearted and single- 
 handed, cut the cords by which Southern Italy was 
 bound, and set her free for ever, Aleardi dedicated his 
 poem, entitled "I sette Soldati." 4 The seven soldiers 
 represent the seven nationalities oppressed by the House 
 of Hapsburg Hungarian, Pole, Bohemian, Croat, Austrian, 
 Tyrolese, Italian and in the morning after the battle 
 Aleardi fancies himself walking over the battlefield, 
 bending in turn over each of the dying heroes. 
 
 It is a long poem, and not equal to the occasion for 
 which it was composed, though it contains many beautiful 
 ideas, and some fine lines. Moreover, it was written in 
 1861, and Aleardi could not wholly rejoice in a freedom 
 which was not shared by his own native province. A few 
 years later, and Lombardy was also delivered from foreign 
 rule. The day that (to quote the words of the late King) 
 
 3 " Prampolini," pp. 4, 5. See also " Epistolario," p. 167. 
 
 4 " Canti di Aleardo Aleardi," pp. 306 335. See also 
 " Epistolario," p. 176.
 
 ALEARDO ALEARDI. 269 
 
 "the Iron Crown was restored to Italy," and he rode 
 triumphant into Verona, was celebrated by Aleardi in 
 some of his best lines. 5 
 
 The temporal power of the Papacy was the only 
 stumbling-block which now remained in the way of the 
 perfect unity of the Italian kingdom. This stumbling- 
 block, in the true spirit of Dante, Aleardi set himself to 
 remove ; but his efforts were no more successful than 
 those of his great predecessor's, although six centuries of 
 experience had served to prove the truth of the immortal 
 lines : 
 
 " Come pesa il gran manto, 
 A chi dal fango '1 guanla; 
 Che.piuina sembrau tutte 1* altre some." 6 
 
 But if the stern language of Dante fell upon unheeding 
 ears, the imaginative metaphors of Aleardi were equally 
 disregarded. 
 
 It was in vain that he employed by turns the language 
 of persuasive entreaty and prophetic warning, first recall- 
 ing to the recollection of Pius IX. the time when he was 
 the desire of the people's hearts, when the people wept 
 round the standard which he had blessed. Then his 
 pastoral staff was worth all the sceptres of Europe, then 
 every Italian hearth was sanctified, all Italy joined in one 
 hymn of thanksgiving.' But these high hopes were all 
 shipwrecked on the rock of Gaeta, and for the time the 
 Holy See lost its influence over Italian hearts and minds. 
 And then Aleardi describes with a hardy metaphor the 
 triple crown of terror, shame, and anathema, weighing 
 heavily upon the head "d" un Vecchio inferuio." The 
 
 5 " Aleardo Aleardi," p. 393 ; '' Epistolario," p. 239. 
 
 6 " Purgatorio," xix. 104. 
 
 " With what a weight that robe of sovereignty 
 Upon his shoulder rests, who from the mud 
 Would guard it, that each other fardel seems 
 But feathers in the balance." 
 
 (Gary's Translation.) 
 
 1 " Canti di Aleardo Aleardi," pp. 402, 403 : 
 "Ojrni privato ostello 
 Diveuiva uua chiesa . . . 
 
 Italia. 
 Era un inuo."
 
 270 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 poem from which we have just cited was dedicated to the 
 " venturo Pontefice " (the future Pope) ; but long before 
 Leo XIII. succeeded to the Papal Chair the temporal 
 power had succumbed before the irresistible march of 
 events. Aleardi saw the last and noblest jewel restored 
 to the crown of Italy in her ancient capital, and the ful- 
 filment of the prophecy which he had himself made to 
 the late King on one occasion when he was in his 
 presence. 
 
 " Voi potrete dire con sublime orgoglio, Sire, a vostro 
 figlio : Umberto, ti io ho composto la piu bella, la piu. 
 gentile corona d' Europa." He celebrated this last triumph 
 of Italian liberty in a poem called " L' Aurora Boreale del 
 25 Ottobre 1870. " 8 Moreover, he witnessed the recon- 
 ciliation of the Pope and the King before both passed, 
 within a few weeks of each other, from the world where 
 they had played such prominent parts, the succession of 
 the young Prince to the kingdom which his father had 
 made for him, and the election of another Pope to face 
 the still unsolved problem of his altered sovereignty. 
 
 Meanwhile Aleardi became a representative of the 
 "Italia Una," in whose cause he had spent his life. He 
 entered the Italian Parliament, held the chair of 
 ^Esthetics in Florence, became member of the Upper 
 Council of Education, and was raised to the dignity of 
 Senator. But these new offices distracted him from his 
 art, for which indeed the prevailing motive had now 
 ceased to exist. He published very little. In the latest 
 edition of his works, printed at Florence in 1878, there 
 are only a few " Poesie Volanti " added to the collection 
 of poems published in 1867. 
 
 Among these " Poesie " were a few stanzas upon an 
 iron bedstead, which he desired his old nurse, to whom he 
 was much attached and who lived with him to the last, 
 to place in his room at Verona. The couplets described 
 the bed as made of the same " metal temprato, onde si 
 
 8 In his letter upon the death of the late King (Jan. 11, 1878) 
 Aleardi writes of his successor : " Di Umberto io spero. Gagliardia, 
 e dignite, nobile orpoglio di seguitare le vestigia de suoi avi," &c. 
 Epistolario, p. 373.
 
 ALEARDO ALEARDI. 271 
 
 fan le spade," &c. ; but the last verse was prophetic. It 
 ran thus : 
 
 " E alfin verra. quel dl, che tra le bianche 
 
 Tne coltri, o letto, ove inorir desio, 
 
 Placidamente le pupille stanche 
 
 lo chiudird, per riaprirle ia Dio." 9 
 
 And so it came to pass exactly as it is described in these 
 lines. 
 
 One night (July 18, 1878) he lay down to rest on this 
 bed, which has now become historical, apparently in 
 perfect health, but in the night, death came upon him 
 without his being aware of that awful presence, and he 
 passed away in his sleep. No end could have been more 
 blessed, more peaceful, more entirely to be envied. After 
 a life of toil and anxiety, many hardships, much suffer- 
 ing in the cause he loved, he lived to see the desire of his 
 heart fulfilled, and died in his own home in his native 
 city, Verona, and surrounded by those he loved. The 
 countenance was so perfectly calm and placid, almost 
 with a smile on the lips, that, when the faithful nurse 
 came to rouse him in the morning, it was long before she 
 could be persuaded that he had entered upon the dawn 
 " di piu sereno di " than any which could have awaited 
 him in this world. 
 
 When, on the following day, the coffin which con- 
 tained all that remained of her beloved " bambino " was 
 borne to the grave, the poor faithful creature watched it 
 from the window till it was out of sight ; then her heart 
 broke, and she fell down dead. 1 
 
 All Italy mourned the death of her patriotic poet, 
 and all the city of Verona followed him to the grave. 
 
 An elaborate oration was pronounced over his coffin 
 before it was lowered into its final resting-place. We do 
 not know what were the terms of praise or criticism which 
 were bestowed on the departed poet on that occasion, but 
 we do know what he wished to have said when that 
 moment came : 
 
 9 " Canti di Aleardo Aleardi," ed. 1878, p. 400. This edition con- 
 tains a fac-simile of these couplets in the poet's own handwriting. 
 They were translated into German for Prince Bismarck. Episto- 
 lario. p. 300. 
 
 1 " Prampolini," pp. 3, 4.
 
 272 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATUKE. 
 
 '' Oh mi sia d;ito 
 
 Tanto di vita e cli quest 1 arte mia 
 Che un di si possa dir svl miofcretro, 
 Ella fe batter uobihneiite il core 
 Di santi sdegm e conforto di speme 
 La inesta gioventu della sua terra." 2 
 
 The love of poetry and the love of his country were 
 the twin passions of Aleardi's soul, and it was his constant 
 endeavour to make the first subservient to the second. 
 Yet he says himself, 
 
 " I saw that by so doing I should circumscribe the 
 flight of my Muse and pluck many a feather from her 
 pinions. Still my country had the paramount claim. I 
 was proud of my nationality, and I had a sure presenti- 
 ment that, one day, Italy would be free, that meanwhile 
 it was a sacred duty to devote my poetical gifts, such as 
 they were, to her cause. Much of my poetry was written 
 under the watchful, suspicious eyes of a foreign adminis- 
 tration, with a vista in the background of some Illyrian, 
 Hungarian, or Bohemian prison awaiting me. Therefore 
 my ideas were many of them nipped in the bud, some were 
 thrown out in the shape of a suggestion, some as outlines 
 without my being able to add the colour or shade which 
 would have uive them more evident life. And these 
 restrictions ill become an art which should be as free and 
 unfettered as the soul. Hence many obscurities, a some- 
 what artificial style, often disconnected and vague, defects 
 which will instantly strike the reader. . . . For this 
 reason I feel that my poems will have but a fleeting 
 popularity, and that if I were to return to earth after the 
 lapse of a hundred years, I should find myself and them as 
 clean forgotten as 'Fra Felice,' on his return from the 
 wood where he had been listening to the enchanting song 
 of the bird, heedless of the flight of time." 
 
 So frank and fearless an avowal of faults on the part of 
 the poet himself must disarm any harsher criticism and 
 leave us free to dwell with unmixed pleasure upon the 
 succession of new and beautiful ideas rupplied from the 
 inexhaustible treasures of his imagination, and upon his 
 power of rendering them in language and rhythm de- 
 
 2 " Alenrdo Aleardi," p. 61.
 
 ALEAEDO ALEARDI. 273 
 
 scribed as " Aleardesque " by his native critic?. Nor 
 was this descriptive art, in which he was so great a master, 
 confined to the scenes of varied beauty among which, as 
 an Italian, his lot was cast. "We find it again in the 
 faithful delineation of the equally variable passions and 
 affections of the human soul. " I have written," he tells 
 us, "more with the heart than with the mind," and here 
 we have the secret of the strange fascination of his poems, 
 scarcely to be accounted for by their literary merit taken 
 in the abstract " Heart speaks to heart," and Aleardi, 
 out of the overflowing of his love for his country and his 
 compassion for all suffering humanity/ strikes to sym- 
 pathetic a chord that the heart must indeed be cold and 
 dead which cannot vibrate in answer : more especially 
 when touched by one intimately acquainted with those 
 delicate shades of feeling, those depths of passionate 
 tenderness, to which only those who have suffered possess 
 the clue. 
 
 This kind of poetry may not perhaps entitle Aleardi to 
 the position of " Cinque Poeta Italiano," to which, in the 
 first burst of their enthusiasm, he was elected by his 
 grateful countrymen.- ]S"or can the rhythm of his blank 
 verse, however smooth and faultless, be considered any- 
 thing but a poor exchange for the vigorous terza rima, or 
 the rolling stanzas, of the fathers of Italian poetry. Still 
 it marks a new capability of the beautiful plastic language ; 
 it served a great purpose, and must on these accounts claim 
 an honoured place in the beadroll of his country's literature. 
 His writings in prose show the same fervent imagination, 
 the same originality of thought and expression, to which 
 his verses owe so much of their charm. In his " Episto- 
 lario " * we read with interest his brilliant letters to sxich 
 correspondents as Giulio Carcano, Cesare Cantu, and th* 1 
 famous living historian, Pasquale Villari, who revised 
 several of Aleardi's poems by his special request. 5 
 
 Aleardi has yet another claim to the gratitude of 
 posterity in having refused to become the disciple of a 
 
 3 " Pieta di tufcto cui quaggiil castiga 
 La inevitabil legge del dolore." 
 
 Canti di Aleardo Alfardi, p. 121. 
 
 4 Published at Verona in 1879. J " Epistolario," p. 176. 
 
 T
 
 274 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEEATUEE. 
 
 school of Italian poetry at that time prevalent in Italy, 
 which reached its climax in Leopardi ; a school whose 
 maxim was despair. To Leopardi the world was covered 
 with a dark pall. It was vain to hope for any improve- 
 ment from society, rotten at the core, or from a nation 
 sunk in slavish apathy and indifference. And if the 
 present life was dark, that of the future appeared dim 
 and clouded to his faint and wavering faith. 
 
 Aleardi would have nothing to do with this faithless 
 discouragement. Often baffled, he returned again to the 
 charge ; again and again he revived the people's courage 
 when crushed by deieat ; no public disasters could destroy 
 his confident hope in the future restoration of his country, 
 just as no personal hardship could quench the enthusiasm 
 of his soul. 
 
 His faith remained clear and bright as the polestar to 
 guide him safe through the journey of life, which he 
 describes in one of his most original metaphors : 
 
 " Iddio connesse 
 
 In un mistioo nodo anima e polve, 
 Come cavallo e cavalier, li avvia 
 A le venture d' una corsa istessa. 
 E perenne e la lotta, e le cadute 
 Vituperose, e splendidi i trionfi. 
 Con la valida voce ora i galoppi 
 Domina il sire ; con obliqui slanci 
 Ora il cavallo il cavalier trascina. 
 Passan, cosi congiunti, profumate 
 Curve di colli e selve paurose, 
 Squallidi stagni e fruttuosi piani, 
 Fino e quel di, che estenuato esangue 
 Cade il corsier ; e del nitrito estrenio 
 Fa il portico sonar d' un cimitero." 
 
 " God hath knit 
 
 The soul and body in one mystic bond, 
 As horse and rider, and then sent them forth 
 To run their course upon the race of life. 
 Along the way the strife is permanent. 
 And now the rider with decided voice 
 The steed controls, and now with sudden swerve 
 The horse has thrown his burden in the dust. 
 Yet joined together onwaids still Ibey pass 
 O'er gently swelling slope, through forest dark,
 
 ALEARDO ALEAKDI. 275 
 
 Flying o'er dreary marsh and pleasant plain; 
 Until at last, one day the charger falls, 
 Worn out, his strength all spent. The hollow tomb 
 Gives back the echo of his dying groan." 
 
 And therefore we feel that we may safely leave him at 
 that moment when 
 
 " Libero il cavalier si leva 
 Aflacciandosi a Dio, che le cadute 
 E le vittorie numera." 6 
 
 6 " Canti di Aleardo Aleardi : Lettere a Maria," p. 169. 
 
 T '2
 
 276 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 COUNT AEEIVABENE. 
 
 COUNT ARRIVABENE, the subject of the present paper, born 
 in. 1787, and dying at the ripe age of ninety- three, was 
 an eye-witness of every stage of that last great struggle 
 which resulted in the freedom of Italy. 
 
 His earliest recollections, we gather from his " Me- 
 moirs," centre round the birthday festival of the Prince of 
 Gazzoldo. It was the last State ceremony of the little 
 principality, which, having existed since 1262, was now 
 about to be swept away by Napoleon and to be absorbed in 
 the Cisalpine Kepublic ; but the splendour of the pageant 
 of the expiring State left a lasting impression upon 
 his childhood's imagination. Nor was the blockade of 
 Mantua by the French a less vivid recollection ; the more 
 deeply impressed because his mother, in the absence of 
 her husband, was obliged to fly for refuge to Parma, where 
 she took shelter with her own mother, the Marchioness 
 Malaspina della Bastia. 
 
 When the blockade of Mantua was raised, the Countess 
 Arrivabene begged an audience of General Buonaparte, 
 in order to save her husband's goods from sequestration. 
 The General had taken up his quarters in the Ducal 
 Palace of Mantua. The mother and her three sons were 
 admitted into his presence ; and, says the Count, in the 
 " Memoirs " which he pens in his declining years : 
 
 ' I seem to have Napoleon now before my eyes. 
 ' Small of stature, spare ; with hair which appeared in a 
 few scattered locks upon his forehead, and then fell on 
 either side of his eager, haggard countenance ; tied be- 
 hind in a pigtail, and secured with a silver pin, the 
 universal fashion of the time. So that, in this respect, 
 I, a child of ten years old, resembled the General.' " 
 
 Three years later, in 1802, circumstances again brought 
 Arrivabene into the presence of the great general. His
 
 COUNT ARRIVABENE. 277 
 
 father was chosen by the Mantuans as their representative 
 at the Council of Lyons, summoned by Napoleon to deter- 
 mine the question of the Cisalpine Republic. Giovanni, 
 with his two brothers, accompanied their father on his 
 journey. The Council was fixed for the first days of 
 1802. It behoved the travellers to start from Mantua in 
 the middle of the December of 1801, for the passage of 
 the Cenis lay between them and Lyons. The journey 
 was not likely to be forgotten by the young travellers, 
 who rejoiced in the novel scenes and incidents, and 
 despised the accompanying hardships of bitter cold, and 
 slow progress over the rough ascent, in days when there 
 was neither railway above nor below to speed them on 
 their way. 
 
 Having reached Lyons, Arrivabene describes the sad- 
 dening effect of the closed churches, which none might 
 enter, and the difficulty they had in refraining from those 
 marks of outward courtesy inherent in well-born Italians, 
 lest they should be taken for aristocrats. Every evening 
 Count Arrivabene took his sons to the meeting of the 
 Council. There was another meeting with Napoleon. 
 " Are the taxes more heavy in Italy than they used to 
 be]" asked the First Consul of Count Arrivabene. 
 " ' Sire ' (thus anticipating his future destiny), my father 
 replied, ' they weigh far more heavily upon the 
 people.' " 
 
 And yet Napoleon was, in truth, the founder of the 
 liberties of Italy, and during the short existence of the 
 Cisalpine Republic the Italians enjoyed at least a sem- 
 blance of freedom. It is impossible to say how long that 
 semblance would have endured ; but when, at the fall of 
 Buonaparte, they were again placed under the rule of 
 their Austrian tyrants, they sighed for the larger liberty^ 
 and impartial justice of the Code Napoleon. 
 
 Shortly after the return of Count Arrivabene from 
 Lyons Murat was sent to take up his quarters in the 
 Palace of Mantua. When the Count went to pay his 
 court to the French general, Murat asked for the loan of 
 the young Giovanni "that he might make a soldier of 
 him," a proposal which was declined ; happily, perhaps, 
 for the future fortunes of the young Count.
 
 278 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Arrivabene, in a few paragraphs, gives us a brief 
 summary of Napoleon's dominion in Italy, the war of 
 1809 between France and Austria, in which France came 
 off victorious, and the surrender of the unhappy Tyrolese 
 patriot Andrew Hofer, of whose entry into Mantua 
 Arrivabene was eye-witness. Then came the news of 
 the retreat from Moscow, in 1812, which gave a rude 
 shock to the dominion in Italy. Eugene Beauharnais 
 struggled during the following year, 1813, to make a 
 stand for the French cause in Lombardy; but when 
 Napoleon's power collapsed in 1814 he disbanded his 
 army and gave up the point. The Austrians lost no 
 time in re-entering Lombardy, and Arrivabene's heart 
 died within him when he saw them march back into 
 Mantua. A pause in the " Memoirs " gives an interesting 
 sketch of the social state of Italy at the time. There 
 was a cold splendour, but little comfort, about the palaces 
 of the rich ; insufficiently warmed, with floors either bare 
 or covered here and there with scraps of matting. The 
 only carpet Arrivabene had even heard of was known to 
 exist in the house of the Marchese Tullo Guerrieri, a 
 brilliant leader of social life at that time. The discomfort 
 and misery of the lower classes may easily be imagined. 
 The public streets and roadways were in a deplorable 
 condition of dirt and darkness, and until the French in- 
 troduced a system of illumination with lanterns there was 
 no light save an occasional stray torch borne by a servant 
 before the great " signori." The gutters from the roofs 
 poured water in torrents upon the carnages, or upon the 
 heads of the unfortunate foot-passengers. But if the 
 luxuries and comforts of life were scanty, there was no lack 
 of variety of entertainment among the pleasure-loving 
 Italians. The theatres were always open, with a separate 
 '' sala" for games of chance, so that when the audience 
 had listened to the last notes of Marchesi's beautiful 
 voice they might find fresh food for excitement in 
 gambling. Once only Arrivabene was induced to play by 
 a French general, who lent him a louis-d'or to start with. 
 That was soon lost, and nine others shared in the same 
 fate ; but, says the biographer, the loss was gain to the 
 gambler, because, like Dante's player at zara, "tristo
 
 COUNT AEEIVABENE. 279 
 
 impara " (he sadly learnt) a never to be forgotten lesson, 
 not to venture again upon a game of chance. 
 
 As to politics, parties were equally divided between 
 France and Austria ; and so little universal at that time 
 was the hatred of Austria that there were many who 
 preferred the Austrian domination to that of France, 
 prophesying, even at the summit of Napoleon's power, 
 his fall, and the return of the Austrians to Italy. But 
 in a few mouths the Austrian Government began again 
 the system of tyranny which made it for ever hateful in 
 the eyes of the Italians. The first victims were officers 
 of the disbanded army of Napoleon, who were arrested 
 under the pretext of having plotted against the State. 
 The same vague accusation was destined one day to serve 
 against Arrivabene, and to be the means of condemning 
 him to a year's imprisonment ; but at this period, from 
 1815 to 1821, he was free to dedicate the first ardour of 
 his youth to those schemes of improvement in which he 
 delighted. " Pleasure," he exclaims, " a man may derive 
 from various sources, all more or less tainted and soiled, 
 but the draught of happiness can only be drawn from 
 that purest fountain of all benevolence ! " 
 
 This golden sentence was the rule of his life. After 
 travelling through Italy, and founding everywhere schools 
 of mutual improvement, he established himself at Zaita, 
 his property about six miles distant from Mantua, where, 
 during 1815, a year of great misery in Italy, he employed 
 labour freely, and from the beginning of November, 1815, 
 to the spring of 1816 he went out of the city every day 
 laden with a small bag of money, with which to pay the 
 labourers their week's earnings. After nineteen years' 
 exile, on returning to the , neighbourhood of Zaita, the 
 door was suddenly burst open by a peasant woman, who 
 threw herself on her knees before him and showered 
 blessings upon him for having given her husband work in 
 those days of famine. 
 
 Between the return of the Austrians and the year 1820 
 the spirit of patriotism had developed itself in Italy, and 
 the prominent figures already so familiar to us in the life 
 of Sir A. Panizzi of Gonfalonieri, Silvio Pellico, Filippo 
 Ugoni to say nothing of the classical bards, Niccolini
 
 280 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and Vincenzo Monti, were Arrivabene's friends and 
 associates. Monti was his guest at his villa of La Zaita ; 
 so also was Silvio Pellico. This last piece of hospitality 
 cost him very dear, for it was the only accusation the 
 Austrians could prove against Arrivabene when they 
 arrested him as a " Carbon aro " in the May of 1821. 
 The horror of that moment was still present to Arri- 
 vabene's mind when, nearly forty years afterwards, he 
 describes it in his " Memoirs :"- 
 
 " It was two o'clock in the afternoon, the last Friday 
 in May. I was at Zaita, and a few friends were with 
 me. It was so very hot that I had retired to my room, 
 and was surreptitiously taking an afternoon siesta. My 
 house is only removed by about a hundred yards from 
 the high-road which runs from Mantua to Modena. The 
 road is hollow, so that the sound of approaching wheels 
 makes a great noise. I heard the carriages coming while 
 they were yet a long way off; the noise came nearer. I 
 ran to the window, and I saw two carriages coming up to 
 the entrance-drive. I ran hurriedly downstairs, and found 
 five persons in the hall, one in full uniform with his sword 
 by his side. I understood in an instant who they were, 
 Avhy they came, and yet I asked them what they wanted. 
 One of them replied, ' We are Government messengers, 
 and we have instructions to examine your papers.' I 
 took them all over the house ; there were no papers to be 
 ioxmd, for there were none there. ' Now,' said the first 
 spokesman, ' you must accompany us to Mantua, as we 
 have orders to search your house at Mantua also.' I 
 offered them dinner ; they declined. I had refreshments 
 brought up, and these they accepted. Either from an 
 exaggerated idea of the duties of hospitality, or because I 
 felt a pride in showing myself superior to my misfortunes, 
 or from a wish to contrast my conduct with their un- 
 gracious office, or from all these motives combined, I 
 made a point of treating them as guests, regardless of the 
 nature of their errand. I assumed an open, cheerful 
 manner ; but I suffered much, and now, after the lapse 
 of many years, I can never recall that moment without a 
 shudder." 
 
 The search among the papers at Mantua, which Arriva-
 
 COUNT AftREVABENE. 281 
 
 bene had contemplated without alarm, feeling sure of his 
 innocence, had an unfortunate result, and upon some 
 trifling pretext he was informed that he would have to 
 go to Venice to take his trial for " Carboneria." Silvio 
 Pellico tells us that the first night in prison is a most 
 horrible experience ; l and all night long the unhappy 
 Arrivabene tried in vain to gather comfort from the 
 reflection that he knew nothing of " Carboneria," and had 
 never had anything to do witti it, little thinking that a 
 chance conversation with Silvio Pellico, long since for- 
 gotten, was enough to condemn him. His faithful servant 
 counselled flight while his jailers were, or feigned to be, 
 asleep ; but Arrivabene would not consent. At four in 
 the morning they pursued their journey, and midnight 
 found them in Venice. The result of the trial next day 
 can be easily guessed ; Salvotti, of evil fame, was the 
 principal of the four judges appointed to try the case. 
 
 One ground of complaint was the school at Mantua, 
 which Arrivabene was accused of having founded for the 
 purpose of instructing the people in revolutionary ideas. 
 This he emphatically denied. He had, indeed, closed it 
 in obedience to the Austrian authorities. After an inter- 
 rogatory which had lasted nearly five hours he learnt 
 the real " head and front of his offending." " Pellico 
 told you, when he was with you at Zaita, that he was a 
 Carbonaro. It was your duty to inform the Government ; 
 you did not do so : you are therefore guilty of the crime 
 of concealment." Then the few words which Arrivabene 
 had exchanged with Pellico when at Zaita flashed across 
 his mind. A cooler and more experienced person would 
 have remained silent, but this course never entered the 
 prisoner's head. "What!" he exclaimed with passionate 
 eagerness, " betray my friend and my guest ! What laws 
 are these ? The most wicked that could be devised. 
 Condemn me if you will, but were I a thousand times in 
 the same case I would do the same thing." Imprison- 
 ment followed as a matter of course upon this speech, and 
 Arrivabene was consigned to the prison of San Michele 
 at Murano. During the hours of captivity he had tima 
 
 1 " Le mie Prigioni," c. iii. p. 6.
 
 282 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEEATURE. 
 
 to reflect upon the cause of it, and many times the tor- 
 menting conjecture assailed him as to how the Commission 
 could have extracted from Silvio Pellico the conversation 
 which, apparently harmless in itself, had been attended 
 with so disastrous a result. 
 
 When the two friends met at Turin years afterwards, 
 Silvio Pellico having been released from his ten years' 
 imprisonment and Arrivabene having returned from exile, 
 the same question rose to his lips, but he was restrained 
 by a feeling of delicacy that it was for Pellico to take the 
 initiative, he having been unwittingly the cause of Arri- 
 vabene's imprisonment. Pellico did not touch upon the 
 question, and so the mystery remained unsolved. 
 
 It would be idle to compare the sufferings of these two 
 victims of Austrian tyranny. Those who are familiar 
 with " Le mie Prigioni " will remember that for more 
 than eight of Pellico's ten years' imprisonment he was 
 condemned to hard labour. The imprisonment of Arri- 
 vabene lasted barely a year ; nor were the discomforts of 
 San Michele to be named with the burning heat of the 
 " Piombi " or the horrors of the fortress at Spielberg. 
 The island of San Michele, whither he was conveyed, is 
 close to the larger island of Murano. There had once 
 been a convent at San Michele. and this was the building 
 now converted into a prison. The cells of the prisoners 
 were ill-lighted, ill-ventilated, and yet with apertures 
 large enough to let in the rain, so that at the first shower 
 the floor became a lake. Abundance of insects of all 
 descriptions and scorpions swarmed everywhere, and fetid 
 vapours arose from the mud of the lagune at low tide. 
 All these discomforts became serious calamities as the 
 imprisonment prolonged itself from days to weeks, from 
 weeks to months. For some time Arrivabene suffered 
 from the close confinement to his room, but at length, as 
 his health became affected by it, he was allowed to walk 
 in the garden accompanied by his jailer. 
 
 The young Count Laderchi and Maroncelli became 
 afterwards his companions in misfortune, and the hoiirs 
 .of their captivity were enlivened by their daily prescribed 
 walk in the garden. It was on one of these occasions 
 December 10, 1821 when all three were walking to-
 
 COUNT AEEIVABENE. 283 
 
 gether accompanied by the jailer, that a message came for 
 Arrivahene, to say that the president of the Commission 
 had arrived in the island and had asked for him. His 
 companions prophesied good news, and their prophecy 
 came true. " You have been acquitted," were the joyful 
 words which fell on Arrivabene's ears ; " you are free, 
 and may leave the island as soon as you please." 
 
 Arrivabene knew how to moderate his joy in the 
 presence of his less fortunate companions ; nor would he 
 hastily abandon them in their captivity. He spent the 
 remainder of the day and night a voluntary prisoner, and 
 the next day parted with them, promising to return that 
 evening again from Venice and to obtain permission to 
 dine with them. He kept his word, procured the best 
 dinner that could be got, and returned laden with books 
 to cheer their solitude. Doubtless the recollection of this 
 delicate kindness was present to Maroncelli during his 
 frightful sufferings at Spielberg, so eloquently recorded by 
 Pellico. 2 
 
 His return to Mantua was made the occasion for great 
 festivities ; friends, relations, and fellow- citizens all com- 
 bined to do him honour, and even the Austrian general 
 Mayer expressed a wish to see him. At Milan also he 
 met with the same enthusiastic reception, and people who 
 had never known him personally now desired to be pre- 
 sented to him. Among these was the illustrious Manzoni, 
 who warmly congratulated him upon his release. It was 
 the year of Napoleon's death. The soul-stirring lines 
 of " II Cinque Maggio," the noblest funeral elegy ever 
 written, were at that time upon everybody's lips ; Arriva- 
 bene heard them with awe-struck admiration in Venice. 
 A few years later, when he read for the first time the 
 account of " Fra Cristoforo " in " I promessi Sposi," he 
 tells us that he rushed round the room like a maniac, 
 exclaiming at intervals, ' ; It is too beautiful ! far too 
 beautiful ! " 
 
 From Mantua he hastened to the beloved villa La 
 Zaita ; but his stay there was brief, and disturbed by the 
 
 2 "Mie Prigioni," pp. 156, 157. It is interesting to know that 
 Arrivabene saw Maroncelli in Paris twelve years afterwards, on his 
 release from Spielberg.
 
 284 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 warning voices of his friends, who reported daily new 
 arrests of members of the Liberal party, and urged him 
 to fly the country while there was yet time. At last the 
 arrest of one of his immediate companions forced him to 
 perceive his own danger, and he tore himself from his 
 hume without waiting to be arrested there a second time. 
 Scalvini, just released from prison at Brescia, and Camillo 
 U^'oni joined him en route, and their flight, like that of 
 Sir Anthony Panizzi, was a series of hairbreadth escapes. 
 Like Panizzi, when they reached Paris they found they 
 nad not made their escape too soon. Within a fortnight 
 of their arrival in Paris Arrivabene read in the Gazzetta 
 di Milano the accusation against him of high treason, and 
 that he was cited to appear within sixty days, under 
 pain of sequestration of all his goods. The threat Vas 
 eventually carried into execution, and followed by the 
 announcement of the sentence of death. Arrivabene's 
 character never showed to greater advantage than in the 
 fortitude which he displayed under this adversity. Far 
 from spending his time in useless lamentations, he turned 
 his mind to extract good out of evil. In his "Memoirs" 
 he dwells, in a remarkable paragraph, upon the fact that 
 he owes to these very mislortunes his subsequent fame 
 and success. 3 
 
 The exile of Arrivabene dates from April, 1822. At 
 the end of the year 1823 he made his way over to 
 England, " the only secure and real refuge for political 
 exiles." Even the well-known resort of foreigners, 
 Leicester Square, was too dear for his reduced circum- 
 stances, and he took up his abode in the suburbs, " where 
 the rays of the sun were less obscured by coal-smoke," 
 and where the close vicinity of Ugo Foscolo and Santa 
 Rosa 4 offered another attraction. He is struck by the 
 contrasts of character between these two men : the former 
 gloomy and vindictive, the latter frank, affectionate, and 
 
 gay. 
 
 3 " Meinorie della mia Vita," pp. Ill, 112. 
 
 * Santa Kosa, an illustrious Pieilmoutese statesman, born 1783, 
 author of " History of Piedmontese Revolution." Fled to Englnii'l, 
 1822. Left England, 1822, to fight for the cause of Greek inde- 
 pendence. Killed in buttle, 1828.
 
 COUNT ARRIVABENE. 285 
 
 The climate of England in December made a melancholy 
 impression upon the Italian exiles, and a yellow fog, 
 "thick, dense, the colour of an orange, so dark that the 
 traffic was suspended outside and candles lighted inside 
 the houses in the middle of the day, filled them with 
 despair." The little sash windows, " constructed on the 
 plan of a guillotine," pleased them no better ; nor the post, 
 distributed in those days to the sound of a hand-bell, 
 people rushing down to the doors to receive their letters ; 
 nor the watchmen in their long grey cloaks, with their 
 incessant cries all through the night. Moreover the 
 sensitive Italian nature was keenly alive to the want of 
 courtesy constantly displayed towards foreigners by the 
 English of the class among which the exiles were of 
 necessity thrown. At that time, as Arrivabene observes, 
 a foreigner only represented a Frenchman, or rather French 
 dog, to the English mind. A general gloom and depression 
 seemed to go hand in hand with this rougli discourtesy, 
 and he seeks in vain to account for the term " merry," 
 which he believed to have been at one time associated 
 with England. 'At first Arrivabene was friendless, but a 
 letter of introduction from Sismondi, whom he had known 
 at Geneva, procured him the acquaintance of William 
 Smith, the friend of Wilberforce, who had interested him- 
 self in the great cause of the suppression of the slave 
 trade. 5 
 
 The members of "William Smith's large family (among 
 whom was Mrs. Nightingale, mother of Florence Nightin- 
 gale) vied with one another in showing the exile that 
 courtesy which hitherto he had failed to find ; and, 
 through their means, he was introduced into the class of 
 society to which he naturally belonged. He became a 
 member of the Athenaeum Club and of the club of political 
 economists, where he was constantly thrown into the 
 society of the great authorities upon his favourite study 
 Took, McCulloch, and the elder Mill. Franklin was at 
 that time the lion of the day. Arrivabene had the good 
 fortune to see the hero, and describes him as small, bald- 
 headed, and with eyes of penetrating brilliancy. 
 
 5 " Life of Wilberforce," by BUhop of Oxford, pp. 80, 106, 226.
 
 28G STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATUEE. 
 
 The country life of England was next the object of his 
 study, and it is interesting to read his account of the 
 journey by coach from London to Norwich : the four fiery 
 horses, each with a groom ready to remove the horse-cloih 
 which covered each animal at a given signal, in readiness 
 for one simultaneous start. Norwich was chosen for the 
 first point because of an invitation from Mr. Gurney to meet 
 his sister, the famous Mrs. Fry. From thence to Holkhani, 
 to see the domain of the celebrated agriculturist, Earl of 
 Leicester, described by Arrivabene as "il Signer Cook." 
 A letter of introduction from his friend William Smith 
 procured him admission to this one of the most " splendide 
 dimore dell' aristocrazia Inglese ;" and a drive all through 
 of the domain with its mistress gave him an impression 
 English country life which he was not likely easily to 
 forget. The rich produce of the land in those more palmy 
 days of farming, the fat beasts and the air of general 
 prosperity, the cottages of the tenantry, but above all the 
 kind interest taken in the tenants by the landlords, 
 inspired Arrivabene with wonder and admiration. 
 
 The visit to Holkham was repeated in November, when 
 the Count was invited to join a shooting-party arranged 
 for the Duke of Gloucester's amusement. The Duke of 
 Gloucester observed when Arrivabene was presented to 
 him, "I knew Gonf'alonieri : he was, like you, a revolu- 
 tionary character ; but we do not make much account of 
 foreign politics, and when people who are presented to us 
 are of good birth and education we give them a hearty 
 welcome." The wonders of the Black Country and the 
 manui'acturing towns, the next points in Arrivabene's 
 progress through England, caused him to remark that if 
 the surface of England's soil was abounding in wealth, far 
 greater was the treasure which lay concealed beneath it. 
 In Scotland, Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Newhaven were 
 visited by him in turn ; and returning by Liverpool, he 
 was particularly struck by the taste for letters, science, and 
 art displayed by the great merchants in the midst of their 
 all-absorbing occupation. 
 
 His travels revealed to him four of the sources of 
 England's greatness : agriculture, mines, industry, and 
 commerce. He visited the two Universities of Oxford and
 
 COUNT AUEIVABENE. 287 
 
 Cambridge. The first he describes as Tory "par excellence" 
 and conservative ; the second as Whig, liberal, and pro- 
 gressive. He was amazed that, notwithstanding the 
 amount of liberty of action accorded to the undergraduates, 
 they should study so persistently, especially Greek and 
 Latin, even attaining to writing verses in the classical 
 languages. 
 
 It was well that he had so much to distract his thoughts, 
 for sad news greeted him on his return to London. His 
 brother Giberto was dead, and the Austrians had con- 
 demned to death Goiifalonieri, Castiglia, Pallavicini, and 
 Borsieri, although their sentence was commuted into penal 
 servitude for fifteen years. For those who had refused to 
 appear, among whom was Arrivabene, there was no com- 
 mutation, and their names were affixed to the gallows by 
 the executioner ; but he was not charged, like Sir Anthony 
 Panizzi, with the expenses of his own execution. Happily 
 for Arrivabene, the extreme depression of spirits caused 
 by this news was removed by the arrival of his brother 
 Giuseppe, who brought him, at his own imminent peril, 
 some money to live upon at a moment when he was nearly 
 destitute. 
 
 Arrivabene resided another year in England (1825), 
 and devoted himself to the study of those large works of 
 charity and beneficence which had, in fact, impressed him 
 more than any other feature of English life. He wrote a 
 book describing them, entitled " Societa di Beneficenza 
 della Citta di Londra," in order to make them known in 
 his own country, and the book was afterwards published 
 in Italy. 
 
 In the autumn of that year he again employed his 
 holiday in exploring England. He rambled through the 
 Isle of Wight, Devonshire, Cornwall, Wales, and Kent, 
 in most places sharing the " villeggiature " of those English 
 friends who had shown him kindness when in London, 
 and who extended their hospitality by asking him to visit 
 them in the country. Every visit that he paid confirmed 
 him in his high opinion of the dignified retirement of the 
 English country life, while he looked upon the residence 
 of the English landowners upon their estates as another 
 main source of the riches and prosperity of the country.
 
 238 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Although not reduced to the extremity of poverty 
 endured by Sir Anthony Panizzi, he knew too well what 
 it was to be straitened in means, and to be driven by 
 degrees to seek cheaper and cheaper lodgings, where the 
 dirt and squalor hourly offended his refined and fastidious 
 taste. 
 
 In the September of 1826, the French Government 
 having relaxed their severity towards the proscribed 
 Italians, Arrivabene bethought himself of trying his for- 
 tunes again in Paris, though it was with reluctance that 
 he bade adieu to his English friends. All his life long 
 he cherished the recollection of the hospitality so delicately 
 offered and so liberally maintained which had greeted him 
 when in England. 
 
 At Paris he found a friend in the lawyer Teste, who 
 tried, without success, to rescue some portion of Arri- 
 vabene's sequestrated property ; and afterwards in " la 
 famiglia Arconati," who received him with so much kind- 
 ness that he looked upon them as his adopted family. 
 Through their means he became acquainted with Guizot, 
 and attended the course of lectures on political economy 
 given by G. B. Say, a man who, in his unflinching frank- 
 ness, did not fear to offend the great Napoleon when First 
 Consul, and forfeited his post in consequence. 
 
 The Marquess Arconati was the means of introducing 
 him to Belgium, where he afterwards spent many years of 
 unremitting labour in promoting the welfare of his adopted 
 country, and was for some time the guest of the Arconati, 
 with many other distinguished Italians in a similar plight 
 to himself, such as Giacento Collegno, " Poerio," (father 
 of the famous Poerio), and Gioberti, whose remarkable 
 works on philosophy he diligently studied. Van de Weyer, 
 then a young lawyer of Louvairi, was also among the guests. 
 Arrivabene relates as an anecdote of Gioberti that he 
 would often walk bareheaded in winter during the falling 
 snow, to cool the burning fever of his brain, hard pressed 
 by long study. In the winter of 1828 Arrivabene re- 
 turned to Paris, and was witness of the review of the 
 Garde Nationale by Charles X., which delayed, but did 
 not avert, the Eevolution of 1830. The winter of 1829 
 he spent peacefully in Belgium, "never once molested by
 
 COUNT ARBIVABKNE. 289 
 
 the sie;ht of a gendarme," and early in the spring of 1830 
 lie went again to England, to collect new materials for the 
 second volume of his book, which had already made itself 
 a name. 
 
 His peaceful life in Belgium was disturbed by the Revo- 
 lution of 1830, which he describes with the vivacity of an 
 eye-witness. There were great hopes on the part of the 
 exiled Italians that the successful and successive revolu- 
 tions at Paris and Brussels in 1830 would not be without 
 their effect upon Italian affairs, and Arrivabene set off in 
 the dead of the winter of 1831 for Geneva, to consult 
 Peregrino Rossi, the most far-seeing of the exiled Italian 
 Liberals. Bat Rossi saw nothing to be hoped for from 
 the cold, selfish policy of Louis Philippe ; and Arrivabene 
 returned to Brussels to prosecute his labours in the cause 
 of political economy. 
 
 It was at this time, by means of an introduction from 
 M. Van de Weyer. the Belgian ambassador, that he became 
 acquainted with Nassau Senior, who had been put on a 
 Commission to inquire into the method of providing for 
 the poorer classes in foreign countries ; an acquaintance 
 which rapidly ripened into friendship, and was most 
 fruitful in advantage to Arrivabene. The second volume 
 of the book was published in 1832, and was quickly fol-. 
 lowed by other works of the same class, one of which, a 
 statistical account of the little commune at Gaesbek, gives 
 a fair average account of the agrarian condition of Belgium. 
 This last work had been prompted by his new friend, r.s 
 an assistance to his own researches ; it was written in 
 French by Arrivabene, but afterwards translated by 
 Senior, communicated to the Commission, and engrafted in 
 one of the Acts of the English Parliament passed in 1833. 
 
 Through M. Van de Weyer, the Belgian ambassador, 
 Arrivabene became known to King Leopold, and was 
 directed to present himself at Court, where he was 
 received with every mark of distinguished favour. And 
 thus closed, in 1832, the fourth year of his exile. Still 
 his goods remained under sequestration, and it was only 
 through the generosity of two Milanese bankers, who lent 
 him money on the faith of their possible recovery, that he 
 was able to subsist at all.
 
 290 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATUHE. 
 
 His next work was to translate into French the 
 numerous MSS. of the lectures on political economy by 
 his friend Senior, and for this purpose he made another 
 expedition to England. He arrived to find his iriend 
 Van de Weyer on his way to an immense fortune ; about 
 to marry the only daughter of " il Signor Bedst " Bates. 
 Having obtained an introduction to Lord and Lady 
 LansdoAvne, he was received with a kind hospitality, 
 which was renewed on the occasion of his third visit to 
 England a few years later. It was then that he made 
 the acquaintance of Archbishop Whately, who had 
 succeeded Mr. N. Senior in the Professorship of Political 
 Economy at Oxford. Arrivabene was deeply impressed 
 with his learning, but was quite unable to understand 
 the humour of the " Historic Doubts relative to Napoleon 
 Buonaparte." The author he considers " un poco originale " 
 for publishing a book to prove that Napoleon had never 
 existed ! 
 
 The year 1838 dawned more favourably for the Italian 
 exiles. Gonfalonieri had been released from twelve years' 
 hard labour at Spielberg ; the Emperor of Austria 
 published an amnesty at Milan ; and Arrivabene (in 
 spite of the disheartening rumour that he had been ex- 
 cluded from it) hastened to Mag^deni, on the borders of 
 the Austrian dominions, in the hope of obtaining the 
 formal leave to emigrate which would relieve his goods 
 from sequestration. After two months of anxious 
 waiting the welcome permission to emigrate arrived, and 
 the sequestration was removed. His property much 
 diminished in value, it is true, and in a pitiable plight 
 was restored to him. But he was still an exile, with little 
 chance of being able to return to his country ; so, though 
 his heart still yearned towards his native land, he asked 
 to become naturalized in the land of his adoption, a request 
 which was immediately granted. His continued interest 
 in the welfare of his poorer brethren was rewarded with 
 the honour of being chosen one of the four vice-presidents 
 of the Congress of Economists, the first of its kind, which 
 was held at Brussels in 1847, when Free Trade was one 
 of the burning questions of the day. 
 
 Once or twice after the removal of the sequestration of
 
 COUNT ARRIVABENE. 291 
 
 his goods Arrivabene hovered on the borders of his native 
 country. In 1843 he visited Piedmont, and compared 
 notes with Cavour, with whose writings on political 
 economy he was already acquainted. Cavour was then a 
 young stripling, living in his father's house, engaged in 
 agricultural experiments, nor did any one foresee at that 
 time the great position in store for him. Arrivabene made 
 acquaintance also with Cesare Balbo, distinguished not 
 only for his wise policy as a statesman, but for his literary 
 and historical works, and, with his assistance, drew up an 
 interesting analysis of the state of Piedmont at that time, 
 which he communicated to a Brussels paper. He dwells 
 upon the religious character of the King, Charles Albert, 
 and the influence of the Jesuits at Court, to whom he 
 applies Manzoni's lines 
 
 " Segno d' immensa invidia 
 E d' indomato atnor," 
 
 adding that, for his own part, he would limit that 
 influence to preaching the truth of the Gospel, laying 
 aside all political considerations. 
 
 In 1847 he returned again to Turin, and found the 
 King, statesmen, and people making rapid strides towards 
 the great political movement of 1848. It is not necessary 
 to dwell upon the excitement, the alternations of hope 
 and fear, which agitated the breasts of the Italian exiles 
 while Charles Albert embarked the fortunes of his little 
 kingdom in the gigantic enterprise of freeing Italy from 
 the Austrian domination. But that fear dominated in 
 the end may be gathered from Arrivabene's letter from 
 Brussels in 1848. 6 His prudent calculations as to the 
 little probability of success attending the Italian arms 
 seem tame and cold when compared with subsequent 
 events, which show that a handful of volunteers did 
 indeed accomplish what he had pronounced to be an 
 impossibility. However, for the time being the Austrian 
 victory of Nbvara quenched all hopes of liberty in Italy, 
 although Arrivabene was a true prophet when a year 
 later (1850) he wrote from Turin : 
 
 6 " Memorie della mia Vita," pp. 257-60. 
 
 u 2
 
 292 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATUKE. 
 
 "In spite of all her misfortunes Piedmont still holds 
 the future in her grasp. The State has not lost vigour, 
 the voice of authority can still be heard, and religion still 
 holds its sway over the people. The King is respected 
 and loved, and he deserves to be so. In spite of a 
 neglected education he is good, loyal, and upright, and 
 his word may be implicitly trusted. He is not the man 
 to overthrow his country or to betray his trust." 
 
 With the exception of a few occasional visits to Italy, 
 Arrivabene still continued his residence at Brussels. 'In 
 1850 he was invited to take part in the provincial adminis- 
 tration as a member for the canton of Lennik St. Quentin, 
 in Brabant. The exile gladly accepted the honour which 
 would serve as an apprenticeship for those happier times 
 when he would sit as a senator in the administration of his 
 own free and independent country. This event was nearer 
 at hand than he anticipated, but the steps by which it 
 was accomplished are too well known for it to be neces- 
 sary to recapitulate them here, except so far as they are 
 connected with the subject of this memoir. In 1852 lie 
 received through the hand of Count Cavour the distinction 
 of the Croce Mauriziana, not only in recognition of his 
 indefatigable labours in promoting the welfare of the 
 people by just principles of political economy, but because 
 the King wished to give some proof of his high esteem 
 for an Italian who had done honour to his country, when 
 an exile from it, at a period and in circumstances of the 
 greatest difficulty and danger. 
 
 In 1859 he became an Italian senator, and from that 
 time took an active part in every important discussion, 
 proposing various laws for the welfare of the State, and 
 bringing constantly to the debate the fruits of an enlight- 
 ened and scientific experience and all the weight of a 
 mind trained in the principles of true liberty, and sustained 
 by an unwavering rectitude of purpose. He was appointed 
 Ambassador Extraordinary to Belgium in 1866, to repre- 
 sent the King of Italy on the occasion of the succession 
 of Leopold II. to the throne of Belgium. On his return 
 to Italy he had the joy of witnessing the freedom of his 
 native city of Mantua, where he was welcomed with 
 rapturous applause. From 1866 to 1880 he continued, on
 
 COUNT ARRIVABENE. 293 
 
 behalf of his native country, those \mremitting labours in 
 promoting the welfare of the poor which had occupied 
 him when in exile. In spite of his advanced age he made 
 many a journey to Rome to take part in the duties of the 
 Senate. Here he made, in January 1880, his last speed), 
 warning the Government on the subject of not disturbing 
 the finance of the State. Long after this he was still to 
 be seen every week- at Milan, presiding at the Board of 
 Mantuan .Railway, every one pausing in the streets and 
 coffee-houses to admire the noble old man, who bore in his 
 countenance the stamp of his eventful career. 
 
 There you might read, as in a book, the result of years 
 devoted to study, great recollections, an ardent love of 
 liberty, a childlike simplicity of character, a large and 
 universal benevolence of heart. While preserving intact 
 the great principles of religion and the love of lawful 
 authority, he sought to loosen the trammels of the past 
 century ; so that the new era might embrace with a larger 
 grasp those wise and prudent reforms which promote the 
 welfare and prosperity of nations. The great lesson which 
 his residence in England had taught him was.always 
 present to his mind, and never more so than when he 
 strove, in his turn, to impress it upon his own country in 
 the hour of her triumph and of her freedom ; so that 
 when, at the ripe age of ninety-three, Italy laid him to his 
 rest, she had cause to mourn the loss of one of the wisest 
 and truest patriots who had ever embraced her noble 
 cause.
 
 294 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 EDOARDO FUSCO. 
 
 THE life of Edoarclo Fusco adds another page to the 
 interesting history of the struggle for Italian independ- 
 ence, and che efforts made by individuals to promote 
 that cause, when it seemed a hopeless dream, should not 
 be forgotten, because " Italia Una" has now firmly taken 
 her place as a kingdom among the European States. 
 Buf, meanwhile, the current of events sweeps on its way ; 
 the outlines of a past, scarcely twenty years old, are 
 already fading from recollection ; perhaps a few more 
 years will suffice to efface them as completely as the grave 
 of Alaric the Goth, over which the waters of the Bussento 
 have now rolled for fourteen centuries their foaming 
 torrent. To these fading memories belong the pathetic 
 narrative of Sylvio Pellico's captivity, the sufferings of 
 the Neapolitan prisoners on whose behalf Mr. Gladstone 
 made his eloquent appeal ; the passionate strains of 
 Aleardi's lyre now hushed in death ; the noble efforts of 
 such statesmen as Cesare Balbo, D'Azeglio, and Cavour ; 
 even the King himself, the Re Galantuomo, whom no 
 temptation could turn from his plighted word. 1 Still, as 
 
 1 It is not perhaps generally known that the King owed his 
 popular title of Ke OJalantuomo to his firm adherence to the statute 
 entitled " Legge Siccardi," which dealt with ecclesiastical reforms, 
 and was, at the time, a most unpopular measure. 15ut once con- 
 vinced of its justice, and having given it the royal sanction, he 
 remained proof against the threats of the Vatican and the open 
 disapprobation of the Piedmoutese Episcopate. When the turmoil 
 was at its height D'Azeglio observed to the King, " There are so 
 few instances of 'Re Galantuomini ' in history, that it would be 
 well to add to their number.'' " Then am I to play the part of Re 
 Galantuomo ?" asked the King with a smile. "Your Majesty h*s 
 sworn to observe the statute ; your Majesty in so doing has con- 
 sidered the whole of Italy and not Piedmont alone. Let us continue 
 in the same course, to prove that in this world a King, no less than 
 & private individual, must keep his word when it has once buea
 
 EDOARDO Fusco. 295 
 
 one by one the champions of Italy are gathered to their 
 rest, the interest in their gallant struggle for liberty is 
 renewed, and the page of history is turned back to trace 
 the steps by which the battle was fought and won. 
 
 Edoardo Fusco, the subject of this review, was a native 
 of Southern Italy. He was born in 1824, at Trani in 
 Apulia, of wealthy parents, and of how ancient a stock 
 may be determined the biographer says with pride by 
 the Ode of Horace to Aristseus Fuscus, 2 and his epistle to 
 the same much-valued friend and companion. 
 
 " These lines behind Vacuna's fane I penned, 
 Sincerely blest, but that I want my friend." 3 
 
 From early youth the restless fervour of genius showed 
 itself in the descendant of this ancient lineage. Im- 
 patient of provincial education, he implored his parents 
 to send him to study at Naples, and, finding his entreaties 
 vain, he formed, for the special purpose of studying the 
 language and history of his native country, a sort of 
 literary society, to which none were to be admitted but 
 those who endeavoured to speak the Italian language in 
 all its purity. Fearful lest the suspicions of the police 
 should be aroused, his parents put a stop to even this 
 mild attempt at patriotism ; and Fusco, vexed, disap- 
 pointed, and hopeless as to the future, took the extreme 
 step of quitting his Neapolitan home, in order that he 
 might indulge, unrestrained by parental fears and caution s, 
 his patriotic zeal. Already he thought he could discern 
 the future of Italy dawning in the dark horizon, and 
 before his father and mother could recover from the shock 
 of his departure, they learned that he had enlisted as a 
 volunteer in the Liberal cause. His letter to them, while 
 it implored their forgiveness, and their blessing on his 
 self-chosen career, left them no hope of ever recalling 
 him. In the first heat of patriotism, chafing against any 
 restraints which might be put upon it, sustained by all 
 the boundless hopes which belong to the age of twenty- 
 given." " There does not seem to me any difficulty in following 
 that course," replied the King 1 . ' E il Ke Galantuomo 1' abbiamo," 
 observes D'Azeglio. " La Vita ed il Kegno di V. E. di Savoia," 
 Massari, p. 107. 
 
 - Lib. i. Od. xxii.; Epistle X. lib. i. 3 Ibid.
 
 296 STUDIES- IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 three, he may have thought that the end justified the 
 means, and that he was making a noble sacrifice of 
 private affection upon the altar of his country. But 
 eleven years afterwards the natural feelings which he had 
 tried to overcome, revived in all their strength, with the 
 added poignancy of remorse, when the news reached him 
 in his exile of the death of that lather from whose roof 
 he had fled, and whose face he never saw again. 
 
 Meanwhile the insurrection of 1848 broke out in Italy, 
 and the young patriot embarked in it heart and sml. 
 The hopes raised by the temporary success of the Sicilian 
 insurrection, which caused the King of Naples to tremble 
 on his throne, only made the subsequent failure a more 
 cruel disappointment, and the cause appear more hopeless 
 than ever, while the patriots were again compelled to seek 
 refuge in exile from the vengeance of the irritated Bour- 
 bon dynasty. Fusco was far too deeplv compromised for 
 it to be possible for him to remain in Italy. His escane 
 Avas contrived only just in time for the police were 
 actually on his track by the lawyer Pisanello, and other 
 friends, who, through the British Ambassador, Sir K. 
 Temple, obtained a temporary refuge for him on board the 
 English frigate Prince Regent, anchored in the Bay of 
 Sta. Lucia. From thence he was transferred to a French 
 steamer en route for Malta, and eventually landed at 
 Corfu. 
 
 It was now evident to Fusco that for some years to 
 come the pen, rather than the sword, would prove the 
 most effectual weapon for the service of his country. The 
 persuasive language of verse readily lent itself to a cause 
 which had inspired the genius of Dante and Petrarch, 
 and had ever since been the theme of the Italian poet. 
 Fusco soon won for himself the sympathy of the lettered 
 inhabitants of the Ionian Islands a sympathy which 
 ripened into enthusiasm when deeds of modern Grecian 
 heroism became, in their turn, fitting topics for the young 
 and enthusiastic poet. The first of these poems, entitled 
 " II Salmista Suliotta," took for an argument the heroic 
 defence of their country by the Suliots against the Pasha 
 of Janina. After a resistance of fifteen years, the very 
 women taking part in the strife, they: re treated to the
 
 EUOAUDO Fusco. 297 
 
 Ionian Islands (1803). It was not till the year 1820 
 that they were able to return to their country, when their 
 old ' enemy, All Pasha, finding himself closely pressed by 
 the Turks, was glad to purchase the assistance of the 
 gallant mountaineers. The English reader will be 
 familiar with Byron's allusion to this incident, when, 
 after describing * 
 
 " Stern Albania's bills, 
 
 Dark Puli's rocks, and Hindus' inland peak, 
 Robed half in mist, bedewed with snowy rills, 
 Arrayed in many a dun and purple streak/' 
 
 he speaks of Albania's chief : 
 
 " Whose dread command 
 Is lawless law ; for with a bloody hand 
 He sways a nalion, turbulent and bold ; 
 Yet here and there some daring mountain land 
 Dixduin his po^v^r, and from their rocky hold 
 Hurl their defiance far, nor yield, unless to gold." 
 
 The title of " Salmista Sulio ta," chosen by Fusco, is 
 explained by his having related the narrative in a style 
 imitative of tho Biblical Psalmody. The poem was 
 translated into Greek, con amore, by Giorgio Zallocosta, 
 the laureate ; and, the Greek Parliament, looking upon it 
 in the light of a work likely to encourage patriotic feeling, 
 promoted its sale by the immediate purchase of 250 copies. 
 A no less popular poem was ' II Fillelleno di Sfacteria," 
 suggested by the tomb of Santa Eosa, a spot visited by 
 Fusco with lively interest while travelling through the 
 Peloponnesus. " Sfacteria " was the name of the rock 
 on which that accomplished gentleman died, and many 
 ineiueuts of the battle were supplied to the poet by 
 Manrocordato, the friend of Santa Rosa, who was by his 
 side when he fell. Finally there appeared " I Canti 
 Itaio-Greci." The title alone would suggest the subject of 
 this last poem without the Preface, which describes " two 
 countries, but little removed from each other, stretching 
 their sunny shores far into the blue waters of the 
 Mediterranean, sharing a past of unrivalled greatness, 
 drawn together by the common bond of present misfortune, 
 
 4 " Childe Harold," ii. pp. 42 47.
 
 298 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 and linked into a still closer union by the future hope 
 of a common deliverance from bondage and oppression. 
 " Italy and Greece, " concludes the writer, with an en- 
 thusiasm unquenched by recent disaster " Italy and 
 Greece, already united by a threefold bond of intellect, 
 valour, and patriotism, will one day find their place side by 
 side at the great banquet of European nations." Such 
 was the argument of the " Canti Italo-Greci," and it is a 
 satisfactory reflection that Fusco lived to see the accom- 
 plishment of at least one-half of the sanguine prophecies 
 of his youth. We will not inquire too closely whether 
 the poetical reputation which Fusco acquired after the 
 publication of these " Canti Italo-Greci " was not more to 
 be ascribed to the spirit which inspired them than to any 
 intrinsic poetical merit, an opinion which is confirmed by 
 their author's own subsequent reference to them. But it 
 will suffice to say, that during his stay in Greece, he was 
 held in universal esteem by all the Liberal politicians and 
 letterati of the time. Early in the year 1852 he visited 
 Constantinople, and here another and wider field pre- 
 sented itself tor literary labours, though of a very different 
 kind. Sotting aside politics, and forgetting for a while 
 the elevating themes and heroic deeds of patriotism, he 
 dismounted from his Pegasus and plodded over the com- 
 paratively prosaic grounds of philanthropy, with the same 
 energy and zeal which had inspired his political efforts. 
 This ready sympathy was soon enlisted on behalf not only 
 of his own exiled countrymen, but of all the European 
 colony in the cosmopolitan city : and he set himself 
 eagerly to work to ameliorate their forlorn condition. 
 
 The result of his inquiries revealed to him the existence 
 of a benevolent society, which went by the name of the 
 Association Commerciale Artisane de Piete a Constanti- 
 nople ; and, struck by the active, unostentatious labours 
 of the society in all works of benevolence, he drew atten- 
 tion to it in a pamphlet, which was commented upon in 
 terms of high praise by the Echo de V Orient. The pamphlet 
 touched upon the past miserable condition of the 
 Europeans at Constantinople, which had first suggested 
 the necessity of the creation of this society to M. Jacques 
 Anderlich, whose name will be always remembered as a
 
 EDOAKDO FCTSCO. 299 
 
 benefactor amongst the poor of Constantinople ; then 
 narrated the first beginnings of the association, the 
 obstacles which had to be surmounted, the opposition of 
 the rich, its various phases of administration : the founda- 
 tion and ordering of the hospital, the admission of the 
 Sisters of Mercy, the foundation of schools for the 
 children, the financial success of the association in freeing 
 itself from all the debt incident to its growth. It concludes 
 by paying a high tribute to those who had first set on foot 
 this pious design. The author, who had the art of en- 
 listing the sympathy of his readers by a clear and per- 
 spicuous style, received the formal thanks of the associa- 
 tion for the good service rendered by his pamphlet, and 
 was at the same time urged to persevere in dedicating 
 his faculties to the solution of those great problems of 
 humanity Poverty, Employment, and Education. When, 
 at the end of 1853, he was compelled, by the breaking 
 out of the Crimean War, to quit Constantinople for 
 London, he left behind him no inconsiderable reputation 
 as a writer, coupled with a grateful recollection of the 
 manner in which his talents had been employed. 
 
 But Fusco himself was by no means satisfied with his 
 literary labouts, nor disposed to sit down content with 
 the laurels which he had won in the East, "terra che 
 dell' inteliigenza e tomba." It is more in the capacity 
 of " the youth to fortune and to fame unknown " that, 
 on reaching England, he appeals for help to Giuseppe 
 Devincenzi, his countryman. Devincenzi was at Naples 
 in 1848, and had used his influence to forward the escape 
 of Fusco. Now friendless, and stranded in the great 
 city, the exile once more solicits his aid. Will he of 
 whose generosity Fusco has already made proof, and 
 whose talents place him beyond the reach of petty envy 
 and jealousies be his mentor and guide, and direct his 
 efforts in the right path, that he may produce some work 
 of real merit, and possible advantage to his country, 
 either in her present critical position or at some future 
 time ? Fusco was not mistaken in his choice of a coun- 
 sellor and guide ; for, as soon as he had made himself 
 thoroughly master of the English language, he was en- 
 couraged by Devincenzi to write and publish various
 
 300 STUDIES -IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 articles upon Turkey. It was the time of the Crimean 
 "War, the subject was popular, and soon brought the 
 writer into notice. The public gaze was fixed on the 
 East; and the "immense" (as Fusco rightly terms it) 
 English Press, eager to give information on this topic to 
 a people thirsting to receive it, was too glad to employ 
 the pen of a writer just returned from the centre of in- 
 terest. A sketch of Omar Pasha, published in the 
 Morning Chronicle of March 7, 1854, was so highly 
 thought of as to be reprinted, the following month, in 
 'Benlley's Miscellany, with the title of " Omar Pasha, and 
 the Regeneration of Turkey." Thus his position became 
 recognized as that of a fluent writer, whose residence in 
 Constantinople had made him perfectly acquainted with 
 Eastern manners and customs, and he was constantly em- 
 ployed to write on these subjects for newspapers and maga- 
 zines. The material for these essays was supplied from 
 his Italian papers on "La Turchia, ossia usi, costumi 
 e credenze degli Osmani," arranged and published for the 
 first time in 1877 by his widow. 
 
 (i Constantinople," perhaps the most charming of all 
 the attractive wurks of Amicis, with its little pictures, 
 each perfect in itself, of the entrancing beauty of the 
 Golden Horn when seen through the cypress-trees, and 
 the stupendous grandeur of Santa Sofia, has spoilt the 
 render for the sober disquisitions of Eusco upon the 
 possible refurm of Turkish manners and customs. Our 
 interest in these papers, carefully considered and well 
 written though they are, is still further damped by the 
 recollection that thirty years have elapsed since these re- 
 lormswere contemplated, without one vestige of improve- 
 ment being discernible in the country. Nevertheless, we 
 must praise the courage of a writer who could open his 
 pamphlet at the critical moment of the Crimean War 
 with the following paragraph : - 
 
 " While a new conflict is preparing in the East, while 
 the armies are marching and the fleets are sailing, while 
 the diplomatists are contriving and the statesmen are 
 discussing, while the friends of progress are hoping and 
 the conspirators (either crowned or otherwise) are plot- 
 ting, Turkey, that apple of discord, cast four centuries
 
 EDOAEDO FITSCO. 301 
 
 a^o into the lap of Europe, exhausts her forces ami her 
 finance and her last remains of vitality in the effort to 
 preserve an Empire which no human power can sustain, 
 unless those great barriers are removed, which she still 
 obstinately opposes to the march of civilization in 
 Europe." 5 
 
 The success of various articles on Turkey, of a less 
 critical and more descriptive kind, contributed by Fusco 
 to various English magazines, paved the way to other 
 literary work. He was next employed to write on the 
 mure kindred subjects of the literature and politics of 
 his own country. The lirst lecture which he wrote on 
 " Italian Art and Literature before Gioito and Dante," 
 was printed in Macmillan's Magazine, with a preface by 
 Matthew Arnold. 6 The Essay is in itself a little work 
 of art, and deserves a permanent position in literature. 
 Commenting on this obscure and difficult portion of the 
 history of Italy, the learned writer observes that " a. 
 period Avhen literature is not the result of a public d< sire 
 for books and novelties ; a period when art is not a trade ; 
 a period when whatever emanates from the mind is but. 
 the spontaneous expression of the new civilization rising 
 among a people who possessed the whole inheritance of 
 ancient traditions, cannot fail to offer a wide field for 
 speculation to a thinking and observing mind." " What 
 is civilization 1 " he next asks, and borrows the answer 
 from Dante : " Civilization is the development of the 
 human faculties." 
 
 Thus guided, he divides the civilization of Italy into 
 four distinct periods, and these periods are to be deter- 
 mined by their art and literature 'the two landmarks 
 by which we can assign to nations their place in the 
 history of the human intellect." Then passing rapidly 
 over the Etruscan civilization, lingering' fondly over the 
 Italo-Greek era of Magna Grsecia which perhaps recalled 
 to him his own recent attempt to unite the destinies of 
 the two classical nations in one common cause glancing^ 
 at the civilization of Koine, which he stigmatizes as the 
 
 "LiiTurchia," &c., p. 1. 
 
 Macmiilan's Magazine, 1876-77, pp. 228-60.
 
 302 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 nightmare of oppression, he begins his theme with the 
 Italian civilization, the first-born child of Christianity 
 which arose out of the ashes of Rome, to keep up the sacred 
 fire of learning and of the arts by associating them with 
 Christianity, the new reviving power of modern life. It 
 was in the Catacombs that this new life began, where 
 figures instinct, despite their clumsiness of form, with 
 faith and devotional feeling, bear witness to an inward 
 inspiration till then unknown to the sculptor or the artist. 
 " There is a whole cycle of art and poetry," writes Fusco, 
 " in the Catacombs. It is not poetry as yet perfect in 
 form, precise in language, elegant in style, but there is in 
 everything an effort to convey a sentiment under an 
 image, to show the ideal in the reality, to give a symbol 
 to architecture, to painting, to sculpture, and to the in- 
 scriptions." In illustration of this, he chooses several 
 instances from Christian sculpture, then in its infancy, 
 which, Avhen it could present nothing to the eye worthy 
 of the name, could still suggest to the imagination the 
 idea of life by such emblems as the leaf to express its 
 fragility ; a boat with a sail the swift passage over the 
 waves of this troublesome world, and the well-known 
 Christian symbol of the fish. 
 
 As with art, so with literature ; the influence of 
 Christianity is traced to its source : 
 
 " By the noble enthusiasm born of Christianity, every- 
 thing is renewed and transformed. The science of 
 Aristotle and Plato revives in the early fathers. The 
 eloquence of Cicero and of the Gracchi adorn the homilies 
 of St. Augustine and St. Jerome. The poetry of Virgil 
 and Horace is renewed in the poems of Prtidentius, the 
 singer of the Catacombs in the hymns of St. Ambrose, 
 and in numerous popular poets. The Pagan superstitions 
 themselves give place to legends of miracles, tales of 
 martyrdom, and histories of a supernatural kind." 
 
 These were to be succeeded by the golden legend of 
 the Middle Ages, and the vision of the young monk of 
 Monte Cassino, the immediate forerunner of the great 
 poem which was to create the Italian language. In this 
 manner Fusco carries his readers along with him through 
 the obscurity, or, as Dante might call it, the " aer perso,"
 
 EDOAKPO Frsco. 303 
 
 of the dark ages, till he brings them to the very threshold 
 of the golden era of Italian literature and art. This essay 
 was the most considerable of Fusco's English compositions, 
 and it was remarkable not only for its deep research, but 
 for a fluency of style illustrating the writer's perfect 
 mastery over a foreign language. It is to be regretted 
 that another essay on Italian literature in the nineteenth 
 century should have remained unpublished. 
 
 Emboldened by the success of his lectures, he ventured 
 to point out to the editor of the " Encyclopaedia 
 Britannica" several omissions as to Italian subjects, 
 which might be remedied in the forthcoming edition of 
 1857. His letter received the immediate attention of 
 the editor, Mr. James Carrniehael, who was glad to 
 employ an Italian thoroughly acquainted with the history 
 and literature of his own country, who yet had no difficulty 
 in expressing himself in fluent and scholarly English. He 
 was requested to contribute articles upon the philosopher 
 Vico, Volta, and Paolo Sarpi names which had hitherto 
 not found their way into the "Encyclopedia." Gioberti, 
 Leopardi, Giordani, Giusti, and many others, were also 
 entrusted to his pen. Besides this purely literary work, 
 he was employed for two years to write political articles 
 for the Morning Chronicle, the Leader, and the Athenceum, 
 on Italy, Italian institutions, and the misgovernment of 
 the Bourbon dynasty at Naples. It will readily be 
 imagined that Fusco eagerly availed himself of this 
 opportunity to plead the cause of his oppressed country- 
 men with passionate eloquence. Often and often does he 
 return to the charge, and at last is challenged by a corre- 
 spondent to declare what is the Liberal scheme for Italy, 
 to lay, in fact, before England the scheme of the future 
 they propose for their country. 
 
 Fusco retorts with vehement irony : 
 
 " What would be the use of such a proceeding ? Is it 
 likely that the hopes and aspirations of the Italians will 
 affect England at this moment ? Would their feelings be 
 consulted in the future reorganization of the Peninsula ? 
 
 " Supposing England were to co-operate with European 
 diplomacy in suggesting what reforms were necessary in 
 the government of Italy ; would the wishes ol the Italians
 
 304 STUDIES ix ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 be taken into consideration ? N"o. The promised ' Italy 
 for the Italians ' would again be a byword, and the un- 
 happy people held up to scornful derision, just as they 
 were at Naples in 1799, in Sicily in 1812, at Genoa in 
 1814, in Lombardy and at Venice in 1815, in Piedmont 
 and at Naples in 1820-21, and throughout Italy in 
 1848. 
 
 " The future of Italy can only be decided on the battle- 
 field. A common hatred of Austria, of foreign domination, 
 and of all the tyrants and petty tyrants of Italy, calls the 
 people to arms ; and it is no longer possible that their 
 hopes and aspirations can find expression in any other 
 manner or have any other solution ; nor can the fusion of 
 the various conflicting parties and opinions be effectual, 
 but in the face of a common peril, in front of a common 
 enemy. 
 
 " The columns of a newspaper, and of an English 
 newspaper, are not the arena for such a combat." 
 
 Thus he wrote in 1857. Three more years and Italy 
 was once again embarked in the often renewed struggle 
 which was at last to be crowned with success. Fusco 
 hastened to take part in the liberation of his country. 
 This course involved no little personal sacrifice. His 
 reputation in England was made : he was Professor of 
 Italian and Modern Greek at Eton and Queen's College; 
 another Professorship, that of the University of Dublin, 
 was offered to him, but declined because his time was 
 already too fully occupied a wide literary career was 
 open to him, but he cast it all aside, and did not let even 
 the enforced separation from his wife 7 hold him back 
 from his patriotic purpose. His letters to his wife from 
 the scene of action have the special interest of being 
 written by an eye-witness of the great conflict. 
 
 In August, 1860, he writes: 
 
 " Events follow one upon another with such frightful 
 rapidity that the things of yesterday seem to have happened 
 
 " Fnsco marriei 1 , Marcli 19. 1854, La Conte*sa Grcccn, Ida del 
 Carretto, of :m ancient noble Neapolitan family, wlio was widowed 
 in early youth, and left friendless in London. It i 8 to tin's lady that 
 we are indebted for the arrangement of her husband's papers, and 
 for the sketch of his lif^.
 
 EDOARDO Fusco. 305 
 
 long ago. No one attempts to disguise from themselves 
 that these are moments of solemn and awful import ; few 
 nations have had a similar experience, hut then few 
 nations have wept for centuries as we have the bitter 
 tears of oppression ; therefore few nations have as good a 
 right as we have to a future unclouded by perils and 
 endless disappointments, and free from that tyranny 
 which has so often worn the mask of liberty." 
 
 Later on we read of the frightful battle, the " Solferino " 
 of Southern Italy, in the environs of Naples, when the 
 soldiers on both sides " si batterono da leoni ed incontra- 
 rono leoni;" and when the battle was finally won by 
 3000 Calabrians, who arrived on the scene one half-hour 
 before sunset. 
 
 The memorable sortie of the Bourbon troops from 
 Capua, when they attacked the whole line of the 
 Garibaldians spread along the Volturno, is described by 
 Fusco as "a terrible and sanguinary drama iu which 
 the scenes of individual heroism were swallowed up 
 in the great result of the victory. Young soldiers under 
 arms for the first time fought with the steadiness of 
 veteran troops ; the serried ranks of the enemy, the shock 
 of the cavalry, the thunder of the artillery, could strike 
 no terror into the hearts of these volunteers. They had 
 sworn to conquer or to die, and they maintained a front 
 of immovable firmness. The royal troops, divided into 
 three squadrons, marched upon Maddaloui, S. Angelo, 
 and S. Maria; their intention was to scatter our bat- 
 talions, converge towards Caserta, and, thus reunited, to 
 double back again upon Naples. The scheme was daring, 
 but against them stood Garibaldi and the fortunes of 
 Italy. The battle was long and fierce, and for a long 
 time the victory remained undecided ; but the Bourbon 
 squadrons of S. Maria and Maddaloni being put to the 
 rout, the remaining troops either retreated across the 
 river or laid down their arms." 
 
 Although it is well known that this battle practically 
 decided the fate of Italy, it is equally well known how 
 many shoals and quicksands awaited the ship of the new 
 State before she was iairly launched on her course. A 
 living picture of these has been preserved in the papers 
 
 x
 
 306 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 published by Fusco in the Nazionale at this critical 
 period in the history of the country. The first of these 
 dealt with the appeal of the Southern Italians to Victor 
 Emmanuel to come and be their king, and thus set the 
 seal of his sanction upon their success. Every contri- 
 bution to the contemporary history of Italy proves more 
 and more conclusively that from first to last this was to 
 be, in more senses perhaps than one, the crown of the 
 Italian hopes. His name alone could bring the elements 
 of order out of a chaos of falling kingdoms and princi- 
 palities, just as all hope of stability and future prosperity 
 for the State was equally centred in the " Be Galantuomo," 
 who had made the cause of Italy his own. 
 
 The Italians did well to place their confidence in the 
 House of Savoy. No colours had a better right to wave 
 over their united kingdom than those which, riddled with 
 Austrian shot in the national cause on the plains of 
 Novara, had ever since been the polestar of the exile in 
 his hairbreadth escapes from prison and death. When 
 the sinister arms of the Bourbon dynasty still hung their 
 threat over Naples, and the foreign flags of Spain, France, 
 and Austria fluttered from the ports of Gaeta, Civita 
 Vecchia, and Leghorn, Genoa could still display the white 
 cross of Savoy, floating calmly on the breeze a sight to 
 gladden the fugitive's heart with the prospect of immediate 
 security, and the hope of a better future yet in store. 
 
 Fusco never wavered from his opinion that here lay the 
 only true solution of the Italian problem. He despised 
 foreign intervention it was useless in the day of ad- 
 versity ; why should it be called in in the day of pros- 
 perity, to complicate the question with all the additional 
 petty jealousies and alliances of the various European 
 States 1 No less decided were his utterances on the 
 internal divisions and parties which threatened to tear in 
 pieces the newly-made kingdom before it was a year old. 
 He was no Democrat, he shudders when the extreme 
 Republican party brought the country to the verge of 
 anarchy. " One more step, he writes, " and we were over 
 the precipice. A great blot would have stained this 
 wonderful page in our history, and would have involved 
 the destruction of the entire fabric erected at the cost of
 
 EDOAEDO Fusco. 307 
 
 how many a gallant life, how many a noble intellect, 
 how many repeated sacrifices on the part of the whole 
 nation ! " And although Garibaldi receives his grateful 
 homage as the liberator of his country, although no terms 
 can be more enthusiastic than those in which he invites 
 the Neapolitans to raise a monument to the great general, 
 he is not blind to those indiscretions which placed for a 
 time the whole cause in jeopardy, though he would 
 rather ascribe them to the " cattivo genio del generoso 
 generale, che si chiamava una volta Bertani, ed ora lo 
 chiamano Crispi.'' 
 
 Aware that the demagogue politics prevalent all over 
 Europe in 1848 had caused the various States to look 
 with suspicion upon the efforts of Italian patriotism, 
 Fusco avails himself of a paper on Mazzini to rescue 
 Italy from the category of disorganized and revolutionized 
 countries, and to place her in her true attitude before 
 the Continent : 
 
 " Xo one," he says, " can deny how much has been 
 done by Giuseppe Mazzini for the cause of liberty ; but 
 his mistake has been, to refuse to comprehend the real 
 state of the situation ; and worse than this, to, insist upon 
 the strict fulfilment of his ideas, and his ideas alone. 
 Any one who has considered the present aspect of Italian 
 affairs will perceive at a glance that it is no longer a 
 question of liberty ; the question is now one of nationality. 
 The people of Italy, with far-seeing policy, have agreed 
 to constitute a national independence, and the great 
 power of the Turin Government results from a complete 
 understanding of the will of the nation, and a deter- 
 mination to guide it to that issue. 
 
 " Mazzini, on the other hand, wishes for a social 
 revolution, and has thus raised against himself the people 
 he desires to liberate. . . . Mazzini has a few adherents, 
 but no following among the people ; on the other hand, 
 the Government of Turin has won, by a judicious policy, 
 the confidence of the whole nation." 
 
 Thus it came to pass, that at last the memorable day 
 dawned for Italy when twenty-two millions of Italians 
 signified as one man their choice of Victor Emmanuel as 
 x 2
 
 308 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 their Sovereign. Fusco was a spectator of the scone, and 
 he wished that all Europe could have witnessed with him 
 the quiet and orderly conduct of the much-maligned 
 Neapolitans on that occasion. Twice only the general 
 joy and self-congratulation rose to anything like a tumult 
 when Garibaldi's carriage was recognized in the streets, 
 and when Baron Poerio, accompanied by other returned 
 exiles, approached the Municipal Palace to record his 
 vote. At the sight of the gallant old man who had 
 suffered so much, the multitude broke into frenzied 
 applause. 
 
 The King's entry into Xaplee, which followed im- 
 mediately upon his election, was also witnessed by 
 Fusco: 
 
 " Literature, art, and history," he writes, " will one day 
 vie with one another in describing this crisis in our 
 political life. But no strain of poetry could be too high- 
 flown, no colouring of romance too brilliant, to represent 
 in an adequate manner the boundless enthusiasm, the 
 wild joy of that moment throughout the city." 
 
 It would certainly need the descriptive power of 
 Ariosto or Tasso, the glowing pencil of Titian or Tintoret, 
 to do justice to such a scene the streets crowded with 
 thousands of rejoicing people, eager to catch, if it were 
 possible, a passing glimpse of the Sovereign, whose name 
 had been their watchword for many a long year, and 
 whose presence on that day was the pledge of the ratifi- 
 cation of their hopes, the signal for acclamation and 
 " evvivas " which rent the skies. Italian colours fluttered 
 from every roof, garlands of flowers were showered from 
 every balcony, and birds, released in hundreds from 
 captivity, at every stage of the royal progress, were a 
 fitting symbol of the national deliverance from oppression 
 and bondage ; the never-ending, still-recurring, inex- 
 haustible source of the rejoicings of that eventful day. 
 
 No sooner has the curtain fallen on this the culminating 
 scene of the first act of the drama of Italian independence 
 than Fusco turns to consider the future of his country. 
 The diplomatic position is still critical ; but, at all events, 
 the new kingdom has already one ally. Europe, at tirst 
 breathless with astonishment at the daring enterprise of
 
 EDOAEDO Fusco. 309 
 
 Garibaldi, and the no less hardy policy of II Re Galan- 
 tuomo, recovers herself bo express her opinion by the 
 mouthpiece of her various Powers. After the mild dis- 
 couragement of Prussia, the bitter reproaches of Russia, 
 the muttered vengeance of Austria, the uncertain attitude 
 of France, Italy is thankful to bask in the sunshine of 
 English sympathy, declared in plain, unequivocal terms ; 
 and, thus encouraged, the " Ccesare " of the people's 
 choice begins already to feel himself more firm in the 
 saddle. But the internal organization of the kingdom 
 was a question of even graver importance than her 
 external relations with Europe, and one likely to afford 
 ample scope for the energies of the Italian patriot for 
 many years to come. Fusco describes the new machine 
 of the State creaking and groaning, and working ' a 
 balzi " amid the chaos of disorder left by the departed 
 dynasty. His mission as editor of the Nazionale being 
 accomplished, he lays down his pen to accept an office 
 in the department of " L' Instruzione Pubblica" under the 
 new Government. He chose that of Inspector-in-Chief 
 of the Schools, primary and secondary, in all the pro- 
 vinces of the old kingdom of Naples ; and he inaugurates 
 his appointment by a striking appeal to the youth of 
 Italy. They have a sacred mission to fulfil, for it rests 
 with them to establish the country on so secure and 
 orderly a basis as to render the return of despotism 
 difficult, if not altogether impossible. The thread of the 
 future destiny of the country, he proceeds, is in the hands 
 of this generation. 
 
 " Theirs is the unconsumed fire of youthful energy, 
 only waiting to be called forth, generous enthusiasm, 
 noble aspirations uncontaminated by contact with the 
 world. Turn then from the past, and look steadily 
 towards the future ! Others may dwell upon the glories 
 of past times, we belong to an epoch of living reality, 
 changing from hour to hour ; and the memories of the 
 past are only useiul as an incentive to emulate them in 
 our own time " 
 
 He would have them consider that the most difficult part 
 of the Revolution is yet to come the moral and social 
 revolution, which must declare itself in the daily habits
 
 310 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 of the citizen's life, in the general ideas of order, legality, 
 justice, and national dignity among the populace ideas 
 which must be as the very heart's blood of the nation if 
 they would complete the regeneration of these provinces, 
 and render the Italian kingdom calm and powerful, 
 respected by other nations, and worthy of such respect. 
 
 Agriculture, trade, industries, manufactures, commerce, 
 science, art, literature even the forms of government 
 itself he summons to the great work, and his energies 
 do not spend themselves in words alone. He worked 
 unceasingly in his new office, which he had accepted 
 without salary, shocked at the clamorous demand for 
 lucrative official appointments which beset the new 
 Government on all sides : 
 
 " It is perhaps natural," he writes, " that the citizens 
 of Naples should believe everything to be possible to the 
 new Government, but the distribution of Government 
 offices has ever been one of the gravest difficulties of the 
 party in power. There is the new element to be intro- 
 duced, so necessary in the new aspect of affairs; then, 
 there are the victims of despotism, who have or think 
 they have a just claim to demand what they please. 
 Of victims belonging to this class, the Bourbon dynasty 
 may be accounted responsible for so vast a number, that 
 it would take four Italies to give them what would be 
 considered a sufficient indemnification for their sufferings. 
 What then is the Ministry to do ? We do not see that 
 they can do better than be guided by the consideration of 
 the general welfare of the State, without regard to any 
 other consideration. To suppose that any individual can 
 nil any post is folly. Still greater folly is the belief that 
 the sole qualification of ' II Martirio Politico' gives a 
 claim to the most responsible and most remunerative 
 office. The good of the State should be the supreme 
 consideration of the statesman, a maxim which cannot be 
 set aside in a free country without weakening the Minis- 
 terial authority." (Vol. i. p. 178.) 
 
 The financial distress of the country was also a question 
 of momentous gravity, the worst of all the bad legacies 
 left by the Bourbon administration to be dealt with by 
 the new State. The resources of the country had been
 
 EDOARDO Fusco. 311 
 
 brought to their lowest ebb by a system which sedulously 
 closed all channels of communication, either industrial or 
 commercial, between Italy and other nations ; which re- 
 duced the people to the utmost misery, that they might 
 be the more easily corrupted, the more entirely dependent 
 upon the Government. Thus they had lost all power of 
 helping themselves, and every spark of enterprise had 
 long since died out from among them. Bread was dear, 
 labour scarce, poverty and misery on all sides. 
 
 In the midst of this general confusion and distress, 
 Fusco's thoughts revert to England, and to his wife, 
 from whom he had been separated several months, and he 
 longs to resume the broken thread of his quiet English 
 life, with those literary occupations which had been the 
 solace of his exile. But then he reflects that this would 
 be a life of egotism which could not satisfy him, which 
 would always leave behind it a pang of remorse in the 
 thought that he had abandoned his country when he 
 might still have been of service to her. . He does not 
 hesitate long. The claim of his country is again para- 
 mount, the home in London is broken up, his wife 
 summoned to join him at Naples (May, 1861); and 
 henceforth his visits to England are only of a flying 
 character, for the purpose of gaining information edu- 
 cational, industrial, agricultural, or otherwise which may 
 be of benefit to Italy. A very little experience in his 
 office convinces him of two things : (Istly) that the 
 whole method of education in Naples would have to be 
 rebuilt, from its very foundation ; (2ndly) that it was 
 useless to approach it from the philosophical side alone ; 
 that all future success must depend in a great measure 
 upon a precise and clear understanding of the technical 
 method and details of teaching. When the first result of 
 his inspection reveals to him a fearful state of ignorance, 
 he finds that he can bring no practical knowledge to 
 grapple with it, and, conscious of this deficiency, he visits 
 England. The contrast between the two countries strikes 
 him with painful force : 
 
 " When I compare Italy with other countries," he 
 writes, " I perceive that we are in a state of semi-bar- 
 barism. Science is unknown in our country, not only
 
 312 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 among the middle classes, but among men of education 
 and intellect. And science, the exact sciences, with 
 tlieir innumerable various and wide applications to in- 
 dustry, agriculture, manufacture, and commerce, will com- 
 mand the future. Literature and literary culture must 
 have a definite and positive aim, if it would preserve its 
 narrow thread of life ; but it must inevitably yield the 
 ground to scientific culture, the only learning which will 
 bu both effectual and remunerative in the years to come." 
 This may, or may not, be so in the future, but for the 
 present we would rather leave the indefatigable patriot to 
 his researches on behalf of his country, among the indus- 
 tries, manufactures, and scientific discoveries of England, 
 as displayed in the Exhibition of 1862, till we join him 
 at the Dante Festival at Florence in 1865. The universal 
 j ubilee in honour of the great father of the Italian language 
 would, on the contrary, lead us to hope that the delights 
 of literature and poetry may yet hold their ground a little 
 lunger against the cold, material laws of science. On this 
 occasion, Fusco was the representative of his native city 
 of Trani. Trani had reason to be proud of her citizen, 
 and had welcomed him with open arms when he returned 
 from exile in 1860 ; for, as soon as the tumult in Naples 
 had subsided, Fusco bent his steps homeward?, where his 
 mother greeted with tender affection the son whom she 
 had never hoped to see again, not to speak of his sisters, 
 although they were no longer the sorelline he had left 
 behind him when he fled from his home in 1848. 
 
 During his tour through the southern provinces of Bari 
 and Lccce, in the discharge of his office, Fusco had occa- 
 sion to visit Trani again in the year 1861, for the purpose 
 of founding a provincial Patriotic Association. The main 
 olg'ects of this institution were the support of the Govern- 
 ment, the maintenance of law and order, the instruction 
 of the people, either by schools for children, or by popular 
 addresses explaining the laws and language to the adult 
 population. It will be remembered that Fusco's earliest 
 patriotic efforts took the form of inculcating the study of 
 the pure Italian idiom upon his countrymen. Never was 
 he roused to greater indignation than when the Austrians 
 endeavoured to force their language upon the country.
 
 EDOAEDO Fusco. 313 
 
 After the reconstruction of the kingdom he was more than 
 ever convinced that it was of vital importance to substi- 
 tute, hy decrees, the pure idiom for the various provincial 
 dialects. He held to his point, in spite of much ridicule 
 of his "Tos-caneggiare," and his adherence to a language 
 which might have been used by his great-grandfather. In 
 the year 1865, on Fusco's return from another inspection 
 of the southern provinces, the Government entrusted him 
 with the difficult task of reopening the clerical schools, 
 which had been suppressed in the ex-kingdom of Naples, 
 and of reorganizing them on the system of the reigning 
 Government. His appointment was signified to the Prefect 
 of Naples in the following flattering terms: "The In- 
 spector ( f or this purpose) chosen by the Government is 
 1' onorevole Cav. Edoardo Fusco, already known to you, 
 whose noble qualities are in themselves a guarantee to the 
 Government of the success of his mission." This was not 
 the only proof of Ministerial confidence in the talents and 
 principles of Fusco. The faithful and successful discharge 
 of several other offices, of more or less importance, con- 
 nected with the Department of Public Instruction, won him 
 at last the permanent distinction of the chair of " Anthro- 
 pologia " and " Pedagogia " in the University of Naples ; 
 or, as he describes it in less abstruse terms, " the direction 
 of the human faculties in the study of science, and the 
 best method of imparting education and instruction to the 
 people." This Professorship had been in abeyance since 
 1860; Fusco was the first appointed to fill it under the 
 new regime. The course of study in the University was 
 intended for, and made obligatory in the case of, students 
 aspiring to be inspectors, or schoolmasters, or professors 
 in the universities. Fusco began his lectures in the 
 November of 1866 with a powerful opening address, in 
 which he quotes, with effect, Lord Brougham's remark, 
 that it was not cannon which changed the face of the 
 world, but the village schoolmaster. He filled this office 
 for seven years, during which time the students gleaned 
 much from those stores of knowledge which at first accu- 
 mulated by years of study were afterwards enlarged by 
 visiting the cities and universities of other nations ; by 
 the study of the various technical contemporary works on
 
 314 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 education, and by the frequent interchange of ideas with 
 the learned professors of either hemisphere. 
 
 In this way he was able to approach with confidence 
 the great problems of the nineteenth century compulsory 
 education, the employment of labour, the dwellings of the 
 poor to reason upon them in the abstract, and then to 
 consider their special application to Italians and Italy. 
 With such an end in view he edited for four years a 
 paper called II Progresso Educative, which was first 
 published in March, 1869. The introduction is chiefly 
 occupied with a retrospect of the eight years which haye 
 clasped since the political reconstitution of Italy. The 
 time appears an age, though it is within the memory of 
 us all ; only the brief space of eight years had intervened 
 since the princes and rulers of Italy vied with one another 
 in closing the schools, and in shutting out knowledge 
 from the people, lest the light should penetrate the dense 
 mass of ignorance, and make them desire a state other 
 than that of the corruption and degradation in which they 
 vegetated and " intristissero " for the word cannot be 
 translated but now, in the ninth year of the risorgimento, 
 it is time to look round and see what had been done. 
 
 There is no doubt that the number of teachers, pupils, 
 and educational institutions has increased tenfold, that 
 the State has spent thousands, nay, millions more than 
 had ever yet been spent, but still there is much ignorance 
 left to contend with, many prejudices to combat, no little 
 presumption to check, no small number of errors to 
 correct. Although the country was never more alive to 
 the necessity of educating the people, it is well known 
 how wide is the difference between the mere wish for the 
 welfare of the people and the actual setting to work to 
 promote that welfare, or, as the Italians would themselves 
 express it 
 
 " Del detto al fatto 
 C' e uu bel tratto.'' 
 
 And, alas ! for the Italian character, the eager wish for 
 improvement disappears when put to the test of labour 
 and study. With them more than with any other nation 
 " Le mieux est 1'ennemi du bien," and the time is spent
 
 EDOAEOO Fusco. 315 
 
 in condemning what they ha^e, and clamouring for wh it 
 they have not, because it is so much easier to point out 
 faults and omissions than to remedy the one or supply the 
 olher. There is no one thoroughly conversant with the 
 Italian character who would not perceive how deterio- 
 rating must be the effect of these constant complaints and 
 dissatisfaction, resulting from a wrong conception of the 
 meaning of liberty. Instead of these and similar useless 
 lamentations, the object of the Proyresso Educativo was to 
 grapple with the difficulties one by one, and to suggest some 
 remedy for them, each in its turn. Although Fusco is 
 the first to throw himself in the gap, he does not propose 
 to undertake so arduous a task single handed ; his hopes 
 of success rest in the co-operation of others, interested, 
 like himself, in the moral and social welfare of his country. 
 Their efforts ought to be concentraied upon the South 
 of Italy : these provinces, with their special needs and 
 characteristics, were well known to Fusco ; also, when 
 compared with Northern Italy, how deficient they were 
 in technical instruction, how few and insufficient were the 
 schools, how great was the ignorance of the women, not 
 only of the lower, but also of the upper class ! The 
 papers deal one by one with these difficulties, and in spite 
 of the writer's profound conviction of the necessity of 
 " scuole, sempra scuole, e dappertutto scuole," he cannot 
 bring himself to accept, as a whole, the compulsory system 
 of education, which he had made the subject of careful 
 examination during one of his visits to England. 
 
 When asked by the Department of Public Instruction 
 to give his opinion upon the subject, he devotes two 
 chapters of the Progresso Educativo to the consideration 
 of this question, and comes to these dispassionate conclu- 
 sions : (1 ) That the compulsory system is not a violation 
 of the liberty of the subject ; on the contrary, a social 
 guarantee, and a useful guarantee, and a useful safeguard 
 against domestic despotism. (2) That compulsory educa- 
 tion is not sufficient of itself to secure the welfare or 
 prosperity of a nation ; a proof of this fact is furnished 
 by modern Greece, where the system has been in opera- 
 tion since 1830, and has produced no increase of industry, 
 no progress in literature or science worthy of the name.
 
 316 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 (3) That the compulsory system cannot he asserted as a 
 general principle to he applied without distinction of 
 country, place, or social class. 
 
 With regard to Italy it would he impossible, on th'e 
 ground of economy alone, to recommend a scheme to the 
 Government ; for the finance of the country is at present 
 hy no means equal to the enormous outlay which the 
 project would involve. He deals in the same manner 
 with another burning topic of the age : the education 
 or, to adopt the current phrase, though it is by no means 
 always applicable, " the higher education of women." 
 
 "Certainly," he writes, "the problem of the education 
 of women is one of the most arduous to solve in the 
 present altered condition of modern civilization. Some 
 change on this point is necessary. The altered condition 
 of society has made this an evident necessity in an age 
 of liberty. No longer the idols of an absurd chivalry " 
 (alas ! even from Italy must we hear the echo of the sad 
 truth that the ' age of chivalry is gone ! ') ; no longer the 
 slaves or the playthings of mankind, women would now 
 prefer either to share in their labours, or indeed to work 
 for themselves, and make their own way without the help 
 of a companion. For either purpose a woman must be 
 better educated, her acquirements must be of a less 
 superficial kind, she must have passed through a more 
 serious discipline of life. Let us then give her the 
 opportunity of instructing, educating, and disciplining her 
 noble faculties ; but let us, at the same time, be careful 
 to avoid the perils which the process may entail. Ex- 
 aggeration on this point is most common, and the senti- 
 mentalists of civilization are apt to overshoot the mark 
 when they discuss this, one of the favourite topics of the 
 time. Chivalry appears again in a totally new and 
 different dress, and descants upon sundry doctrines of 
 equality with which we agree up to a certain point but 
 loses sight of certain special conditions, certain educa- 
 tional safeguards, which are important items in a woman's 
 education, and upon which nine-tenths of the success of 
 that education must depend. From the day in which 
 Stuart Mill gave his opinion in favour of women's suffrage, 
 a series of ideas upon emancipation ensued, and found its
 
 EDOARDO Fusco. 317 
 
 interpretation in thousands of authors and authoresses, 
 e:-pecially among the Transatlantic Anglo-Saxons, where 
 the manners and customs of democracy have predisposed 
 the social mind to give its full countenance to this 
 emancipation (so-called) of women. The rapid spread of 
 these ideas in America, the nature and amount of studies 
 successfully accomplished by American women, would 
 scarcely be credited in Italy, but we cannot touch upon 
 them here, nor can we hope, I might add nor do we 
 desire, to imitate them. 
 
 " We may, however, find in the example of other 
 nations a useful incentive to ameliorate the education 
 of our own countrywomen, that they may assist the 
 development of a civilization of which they are the climax 
 and the crown." (Vol. ii. pp. 228, 229.) 
 
 The dwellings of the poor, the care of the blind, the 
 method of clerical education, and the instruction to be 
 given in prisons, are treated successively in the pages 
 of II Proyresso Educative with the same th ought! ul 
 consideration, the same careful comparison with the 
 institutions of other nations. 
 
 In one of the chapters dedicated to a review of the 
 scholastic institutions of Naples, Fusco laments over the 
 condition of the Royal School of Music, which had taken 
 the place 'of the old Conservatories. It would have been 
 impossible for a Neapolitan by birth, proud of an in- 
 heritance rich with such musical memories as Scarlatti, 
 Paisiello, Verdi, and Mercadante, to view with equa- 
 nimity the decay of one of the greatest glories of Naples 
 in past times ; and he made many endeavours to rouse 
 the Government to take some action on its behalf before 
 it was too late. His position and character gave weight 
 to any suggestion he might make upon this or any other 
 point, and sometimes the changes he desired were brought 
 to pass ; but the work of the Government was still slow 
 and painful as that of a machine with blunted and rusty 
 teeth, nor was it his lot to see any immediate, or very 
 definite, results from his unwearied labours. In the very 
 midst of them, in the prime of life and manhood, with 
 the cheering reflection of a well-spent past, the zest of an
 
 318 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 active prest.nt, and the promise of a noble future, he was 
 overtaken by the fatal illness of heart disease, hereditary 
 in his family, and in forty-eight hours he was dead 
 December 28, 1873. 
 
 This brief sketch of his life will have failed in its 
 object if it has not conveyed to the reader the impression 
 of a noble and disinterested nature, of an enthusiastic 
 disposition tempered by judgment, of a rare intellect, 
 which, though mainly self-taught, was free from conceit, 
 ever open to conviction, and ready to learn from all 
 places and all men, so as to gather from the stores of all 
 countries a rich harvest of learning. The fruits of this 
 harvest he poured into the lap of the beloved " patria 
 terra," hoping thus to relieve her from the poverty and 
 distress entailed by centuries of oppression, and to place 
 her, in the first years of her new-born freedom, on an 
 equality with her sister European States. To this end 
 he thrice sacrificed a brilliant prospect in England to 
 return to Italy, and, while placemongers were besetting 
 the new Government, he gave his services gratuitously 
 to his country, and performed the duties of a position 
 of comparative drudgery with cheerful alacrity and un- 
 flagging zeal. Thus he Laboured, and thus he died. So 
 unpretending, so little self-seeking was his career that it 
 might have remained in comparative shadow during that 
 brilliant epoch of Italian history had it not been for the 
 efforts of the faithful companion of his labours, his 
 sorrows, and his joys. Hers was the loving and congenial 
 task of collecting the scattered fragments of a life spent 
 in the service of others, and of presenting them to the 
 judgment of posterity in one perfect whole. Should any 
 details be yet lacking to complete the picture, ih< j y may 
 be supplied by those ornaments of character which make 
 the charm of domestic life, a ready sympathy, a never- 
 i'ailing courtesy, and a tender affection which could, even 
 from the tomb, command the following pathetic fare- 
 well: 
 
 " Terrsi del pianto ove il mio amor riposa, 
 Da te io preiido orinai 1' estreino addio ; 
 L' ultima volta e questa die amovosa 
 Laerima spuudo su di te il cor mio,
 
 EDOARDO Fusco. 319 
 
 E colgo al suo sepolcro il mesto fiore 
 Che inaridito porterd sul core. 
 
 Addio! terra diletta, che nascondi 
 Quanto di grande, peneroso e bello 
 Un Dio per me creava nei due mnnrll ; 
 Addio, terra del pianto, amato avello, 
 Or 1' universo rnio e qnesto fiore 
 Che inaridito porter6 sul core."
 
 320 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITEEATUKE. 
 
 A LEGEND OF " IL CENACOLO." 
 
 THE well-known " Cenacolo," or " Last Supper " of 
 Leonardo Da Vinci, was painted on the wall of the 
 Dominican Convent of the " Madonna delle Grazie " at 
 Milan between the years 1494 and 1499. 
 
 This wonderful painting has been the subject of 
 numerous writings and commentaries, both on account of 
 its extraordinary beauty and of its rapid decay. 
 
 One of the many interesting legends respecting the 
 picture forms the subject of the following lines. 
 
 " And call upon Me in the time of trouble : so will I Lear thee, and 
 tliou shalt praise Me." Pa. 5. 
 
 Eude is the structure plain the whitewashed wall, 
 
 Rough-hewn the rafters of that convent hall ; 
 
 High from the ground, unfriendly to the sight, 
 
 The narrow casement scarce admits the light. 
 
 But crowds have thronged around that entrance door, 
 
 And many a foot hath trod that pavement floor 
 
 With fearful step, as though on holy ground, 
 
 While o'er each soul there steals an awe profound. 
 
 No matter if the hand of time efface, 
 
 No matter if the Form we scarce can trace, 
 
 We feel, that there, as when on earth adored, 
 
 We gaze upon the Image of the LORD. 
 
 And vivid thought depicts the Eastern clime, 
 
 The upper room prepared at even-time, 
 
 The silent night beneath the cloudless sky, 
 
 The faithful few who came with Him to die. 
 
 The faithless one It seems as if the sound 
 
 Of that dread warning could be heard aroun d; 
 
 As if those Lips could speak, the very air, 
 
 The Form, the appealing gesture all are there.
 
 A LEGEND OF " IL CENACOLO." 321 
 
 Again the thought recurs no human hand 
 That Figure could portray, majestic, grand, 
 The Glory of that Face, whose rays Divine, 
 Nor time, nor ruin can forbid to shine. 
 great Da Vinci, must thy work decay, 
 And by the hand of time be swept away ? 
 And doth this matchless fragment only show 
 That nothing perfect can exist below 1 
 Was it for this thou didst no labour spare, 
 For this thy ceaseless thought and anxious care 1 
 For this thy restless energy and zeal 
 Which knew no rest, and ne'er could weary feel ? 
 Was this the hope which fed thy soul for years 1 
 For this the sleepless nights of doubts and fears 1 
 Can this support the honour of thy name, 
 And, perishing, bestow immortal fame 1 
 Da Vinci yes no other work of art 
 Shall ever speak, as this, to human heart, 
 Shall wake a chord, although untouched for years, 
 And cause to flow the pent-up fount of tears. 
 Ye who have followed in that breathless race 
 Which would perfection seek, nor yield the chase 
 So long as life shall last, e'en though each day, 
 In the far distance, farther still away, 
 Ever receding, melting in dim haze, 
 It seems to fade before our longing gaze. 
 Of earthly joys or sorrows here below 
 The deepest, purest, you alone can know ! 
 Such, Leonardo, was thy fate thy hand 
 Could ne'er accomplish what thy thought had planned. 
 Rival of Angelo in artist's skill, 
 If great thy deeds, thy thoughts were greater still. 
 Still ever pressing onward in desire, 
 Each summit gained, reveals another higher. 
 Thus thy great work unfinished stood for years, 
 Alike the centre of thy hopes and fears, 
 Oft as thy soul would steadfastly incline 
 To paint the semblance of that Form Divine, 
 Trembling, unnerved, would pause the practised hand, 
 Nor could the will the failing strength command. 
 Nor height, nor depth, by thee untried remuiii, 
 
 Y
 
 322 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Thy soul all eager, and on fire thy brain, 
 
 For, when thus baffled in its upward flight, 
 
 Thy thought would fathom the abyss of night. 
 
 Where else could type so base, so vile be found, 
 
 For him whose name, so hateful in its sound, 
 
 The lips refuse to speak, the hand to trace, 
 
 The worst example of the human race, 
 
 Shunned as an evil omen, loathed, abhorred, 
 
 Judas the traitor who betrayed his LORD. 
 
 Unrivalled crime ; therefore nor heart , nor mind 
 
 Could e'er conceive this outcast from mankind, 
 
 Earth's lowest haunts the painter sought in vain, 
 
 Image of fraud ! thou shalt not live again ! 
 
 Oh native genius, heaven-born ray of light, 
 
 Who shall curtail thy lofty soaring fligat, 
 
 The boundless riches of thy thought control, 
 
 Or gauge the depths, unfathomed, of thy soul ! 
 
 Short-lived thy joy, for doomed by bitter fate, 
 
 A jaundiced envy on thy steps doth wait, 
 
 Still close pursuing in thy track to fame, 
 
 Casting its venom at the greatest name. 
 
 " Why should he pause 1 " the Prior 1 oft would ask, 
 
 " Why can he not fulfil the appointed task 1 
 
 See, my Lord Duke, 2 unfinished it remains ; 
 
 W T here are his former zeal, his care and pains 1 
 
 Two years untouched, unvisited it stands, 
 
 The painting should be placed in other hands. 
 
 Or bid him come and finish with all haste, 
 
 Charge him with wilful fraud and reckless waste, 
 
 And, as his patron, let thy word proclaim 
 
 His honour tarnished, forfeited his fame, 
 
 If by a day which seems to thee most meet, 
 
 The Picture still, as now, be incomplete." 
 
 Oh petty soul ! dost think thy sordid spite, 
 
 Can chain a genius in his lofty flight ! 
 
 Fear rather lest thou rue for aye the hour 
 
 Thou turn'st upon thyself a hidden power, 
 
 Provoke to wrath an artist's master hand, 
 
 1 Fra Cristoforo. 
 
 2 Lodovico Sforza, who gave Leonardo the commission to paint 
 the picture.
 
 A LEGEND OP " IL CENACOLO." 323 
 
 And, as the traitor mid the chosen band, 
 Thou gain a terrible, unenvied fame, 
 And infamy for ever soil thy name. 
 Pause, Leonardo, ere th' unhealthy blight 
 Of earthly passions blind thy piercing sight, 
 And thou, entangled in their deadly snare, 
 Shall find thy labour fruitless, vain thy care. 
 Swift flew the thought across his angry mind, 
 Nor arrow swifter sped upon the wind ; 
 Alas ! if haply in temptation's hour, 
 Close on the thought succeeds the evil power, 
 Ere the weak soul has tottered to its harm, 
 Stretch, good LORD, stretch out Thy saving Arm ! 
 Strong as the will, the latent force was there, 
 He neither stopped for thought, nor paused for prayer ; 
 By passion fierce his eager hand was led, 
 And soon the form was sketched : the sullen head, 
 And scowling brow, the dark and low'ring face, 
 Aptly filled up the traitor's vacant place. 
 He paused; how masterly, how true each stroke ! 
 None can mistake the likeness. Nay, it spoke. 
 Thy portrait, Fra Cristoforo, behold 
 The traitor who his LORD and Master sold ! 
 Sudden as tempest borne along the wind, 
 The storm of wrath had burst upon his mind ; 
 Swept o'er his eager nature fierce and fast, 
 And then the storm was spent its fury past. 
 Once more the sun of reason, calmly bright, 
 Shed o'er his soul its wonted steady light. 
 Fled are the angry thoughts, nor longer brood 
 To vex his mind or chafe his calmer mood ; 
 But the unhallowed vengeance of his hand 
 A lasting record of his wrath will stand. 
 As when one travelling through a beauteous land, 
 With eager eye the glorious view hath scanned, 
 Marking the shadow that across it lay, 
 Wearied and sad has turned his gaze away, 
 Where is the sun's glad beam, with golden ray 
 To kindle all the landscape into day 1 
 Such the dark gloom which o'er the fresco lies 
 As when the storm-clouds lower in the skies, 
 Y 2
 
 324 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Figures but now with master's skill expressed 
 
 Unworthy seem, e'en those which pleased him best. 
 
 Cold, motionless, the groups are silent all, 
 
 Nor life, nor passion glow upon the wall ; 
 
 No light shines forth from Countenance Divine 
 
 To bid the dead forms live, the darkness shine. 
 
 Well might the trembling heart and spirit fail, 
 
 For, scarce foreshadowed, yon dim outline pale, 
 
 Which once his careful hand had dared portray, 
 
 Xow foils each vain attempt, and fades away. 
 
 Vain years of study ! and the hope more vain, 
 
 Creative thought once banished to regain, 
 
 Sterile the mind and powerless the hand, 
 
 To sweep the baffling curve, th' ideal truth command. 
 
 Delusive Pencil, speedy to betray ! 
 
 And faithless Palette ! both are cast away 
 
 While o'er his soul in quick succession came 
 
 Bitter remorse and fast-increasing shame. 
 
 There he beheld with sharpest pang of pain, 
 
 His noblest work all marred, the clinging stain 
 
 Of earthly passions, vengeance, wrath and pride 
 
 Can never be effaced or set aside, 
 
 Its heavenly theme it ne'er can now attain, 
 
 But of the earth, and earthy aye remain. 
 
 Oh, bitter thought, o'erwhelming, crushing blow 
 
 Destructive of his fairest hopes below ! 
 
 Turn, Leonardo, turn thy thoughts above, 
 
 The LORD is gracious, full of tender love 
 
 " Oh, ever blessed, ever worshipped LORD, 
 
 Who didst our human nature deign to wear, 
 
 One pitying glance unto my woe afford 
 
 Incline Thy loving Ear unto my prayer. 
 
 Hear me, LORD, of Thy great goodness hear, 
 
 My hand is powerless without Thine aid, 
 
 Its skill is paralyzed with grief and fear, 
 
 My sorrowing soul in lowest dust is laid." 
 
 He ceased, and lo, there stood in robes of white, 
 
 Encircled by bright beams of heavenly light, 
 
 The form of one 3 long dead, whose skilful hand 
 
 3 Andrea Veroccbio, the master of Leonardo Da Vinci (b. 1432, 
 d. 1488).
 
 A LEGEND OF " IL CENACOLO." 325 
 
 The latent genius of his soul had fanned, 
 
 First had descried the gift which hidden lay, 
 
 First sped his youthful talents on their way, 
 
 Which treading eagerly the road to fame, 
 
 Early procured him an undying name. 
 
 Then as a meadow swept by passing wind, 
 
 With fitful gust, across his troubled mind, 
 
 Fear, joy, and hope, their lights and shadows threw, 
 
 As ever on their rapid course they flew. 
 
 Still as he marvelled if he saw aright, 
 
 It seemed as if before his startled sight, 
 
 An Angel hand had drawn that Form Divine, 
 
 While o'er the Face a radiant light did shine, 
 
 Yea, o'er each feature shed its glorious ray, 
 
 The everlasting light of heavenly day. 
 
 Oh, sacred Beauty, wondrous to behold, 
 
 Image Divine in perfect human mould ; 
 
 Who shall describe Thy glory, who may show 
 
 What neither tongue can speak nor heart can know 1 
 
 At length there fell upon his wond'ring ear 
 
 A sound of far-off words distinct and clear : 
 
 " To those who call on Him the LORD is nigh, 
 
 His ear is ever open to their cry, 
 
 His Angels ever watch around and wait, 
 
 To minister to fallen man's estate, 
 
 Swift messengers from heaven they wing their way, 
 
 And round the sons of men as guardians stay. 
 
 The LORD has sent an answer to thy prayer, 
 
 Look on thy Picture and behold it there ! 
 
 Not as man sees, He saw thy great desire, 
 
 Thy ceaseless labour and thy zealous fire. 
 
 But never shall a mortal hand portray, 
 
 Of that Eternal Sun the faintest ray, 
 
 Before whose Face the light of heaven grows pale, 
 
 And Angels, with their wings, their faces veil. 
 
 Aye, let a speechless rapture fill thine heart, 
 
 And shine forth in thine eyes, my child in art, 
 
 Oh gaze thy fill with joy and holy fear, 
 
 Ere from my lips the Almighty Will thou hear. 
 
 Thy evil passions thou didst not control, 
 
 When as a storm they swept across thy soul,
 
 326 STUDIES IN ITALIAN LITERATURE. 
 
 Therefore thy work must perish in its pride, 
 
 (E'en though far meaner works will long abide,) 
 
 And in the midst of glory pass away, 
 
 Like as the sun eclipsed at high noon-day. 
 
 Nor shall hereafter any copy show, 
 
 The light which there shines forth in radiant glow, 
 
 A beauty by no earthly power given, 
 
 Traced, as GOD willed it, by a hand from heaven. 
 
 So when thy heart with bitter anguish torn, 
 
 Shall o'er the fading Picture grieve and mourn, 
 
 To CHRIST in glory, bid thy spirit rise, 
 
 His Face shall shine before thy weeping eyes. 
 
 For if such rapture doth thy soul afford, 
 
 The Light which is the herald of thy LORD, 
 
 Faint not, nor slacken in the race of life 
 
 Till the last call shall bid thee cease from strife, 
 
 So shall thy spirit to that Presence soar, 
 
 At whose Eight Hand are pleasures evermore, 
 
 Then shalt thou see the beauty of the King, 
 
 "Whose praise the Angels aye unwearied sing, 
 
 The glorious gates of heaven shall unfold, 
 
 And that dear far-off land thou shalt behold." 
 
 THE END.
 
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