Italian versification--Ariosto--Pietro Aretino--Vittoria
Colonna--Laura Battiferri--Dionigi Atanagi--Antonio
Galli--Marco Montano--Bernardo Tasso.
The liquid vocables of the Italian language flow in melody with a
facility perilous to genius, fatal to mediocrity: its stream is
equally apt to dilute Castalian inspiration, or to quench poetic
fire. Hence the poets of Italy are far outnumbered by its versifiers;
and hence among the laureates of Urbino we find but few historic
names. But, in absence of native bards, the dukes of the second
dynasty attracted to their court several of those most conspicuous
on the Ausonian Parnassus, under whose influence a great change
came over the manner and spirit of national poetry. Hitherto their
predecessors had before them two models, whose excellence is still
universally admitted. Dante, in founding an epic literature, chose
the grandest and most difficult theme ever dared by man, and his
success, by immeasurably distancing his few competitors, has deterred
competition. Petrarch addressed himself to passions and sympathies
essentially earthly, and constructed a lyrical versification
demanding no sustained exertion; whose trammels sufficed, in his
melodious and pliant idiom, to stimulate ingenuity without imposing
labour; whose perfection depended rather upon elaborate polish than
upon originality or vigour. Thus, while Dante continued a model,
Petrarch became a snare; and hence, a "multitude of imitators,
satisfied with copying the latter in his defects; who could easily
follow him in the choice of his subject, but not in the beauty of
his style, the variety of his knowledge, and the elegance of his
imagery." Sonnets are indeed the most peculiarly Italian form of
poetry, but they are avowedly ill-suited to the naïve expression of
pure and artless feelings. Their laboured strain and studied melody
are adapted to an artificial cast of sentiment; they encourage
exaggeration and tend to mannerism and commonplace. Singly they
are charming, but "when taken collectively we become indifferent
to their unity, felicity, and grace, and accuse them of what under
other circumstances we might possibly commend, their recurring
metaphors, their uniform structure, and the unfailing sweetness of
their versification."[154] Yet in their complex form, a prolonged
repetition of the same rhyme tends, like the return to a simple air
amid difficult variations, touchingly to renew the feeling originally
and pleasingly evoked; and thus is it that sonnets often possess
a charm of which, in their ambitious attempts, their authors were
probably quite unconscious.[155]
[Footnote 154: British and Foreign Quarterly Review, xi. 376.]
[Footnote 155: See above, Vol. II., cap. xxv.]
It is not now our object to analyze the varied metrical arrangements
to which the fertile language of Italy willingly lent itself, and
which its minstrels,
"A mob of gentlemen who wrote with ease,"
delighted to mingle and multiply. Enough, in addition to the polished
sonnet, to name noble canzoni, sublime odes, and tender elegies. But
the absence of ballad poetry, with its wide-circling echoes of long
antecedent events and feelings, is remarkable, and has been imputed
to an early addiction of the nation to prosaic habits of trade. This
solution is, however, little satisfactory in itself, and is equally
at variance with the genius and the language of the people. Perhaps
it would be more just to assign a diametrically opposite cause, and
to seek in their vivid imaginations, and in the exuberant facility
of their melodious tongue, that universality of versification which
tended to depreciate its quality, or, at all events, to diminish
the estimation bestowed even on their most popular compositions.
It is accordingly in nations among whom poetry is a rare gift, and
whose idiom can embody it in terse and simple diction, that we find
those lyrics which, possessing a traditional popularity, are at once
the germ and index of national sentiment.[*156] We seek in vain
for such among the recognised literature of Italy; and though the
dulcet chants of the Venetian gondolier, and the monotonous lazzaroni
ditties of Naples, may be deemed of that class, their infinite and
ever-changing variety appears to divest them of the historic charm
that attaches to the chivalric redondillas of Spain, and to the
pensive minstrelsy of our fatherland.
[Footnote *156: How could Italy have a ballad poetry full of national
sentiment before she became a nation? Her living poetry then and
for centuries before, as now, is the _Rispetto_. Cf., for the
_Poesie Popolari_ generally, D'ANCONA, _La Poesia Popolare Italiana_
(Livorno, 1906); for the Marche especially GIANANDREA, _Canti
Popolari Marchigiani_ (Torino, Loescher, 1875).]
* * * * *
In poetry alone did the age of the della Rovere excel that of the
Montefeltri, and among the great names whom it was their pride to
shelter were Ariosto and Tasso, the only ones worthy to rival those
of the bards of Hell and of Love.
[Illustration: SUPPOSED PORTRAIT OF ARIOSTO
_After the picture by Titian in the National Gallery_]
LUDOVICO ARIOSTO[*157] was born of noble parentage at
Reggio, in 1474, and, after a precocious struggle against the
uncongenial legal career for which he was intended, was left by his
father to follow the bent of his genius in favour of general
literature.[*158] From an early age he had composed dramas on Thisbe
and similar themes, and had secretly drilled his brothers and sisters
to perform them; but when about seventeen, his youthful inclination
was gratified by accompanying Duke Ercole I. to Pavia and Milan,
for diversion, and to enact certain comedies. These boyish efforts
have not been preserved, but the Cassaria and Suppositi, composed in
1494, engraft upon classic models the licentious speech of his age.
Though well-born, he had the double misfortune to require a patron,
and to find an ungrateful one in Cardinal Ippolito d'Este, whose
ferocious character and lax morals exceeded even the ordinary licence
then permitted to members of the Sacred College, and whose taste
for literature, or perhaps emulation of a prevailing fashion, led
him to favour men of genius. The services of Ariosto were invoked,
as a soldier and diplomatist, when Ferrara was exposed to imminent
danger in the wars following the League of Cambray. As ambassador to
Julius II. in 1512, he braved perils greater perhaps than those of
the field; but his fine temper and knowledge of the world ensured
his safety, and bespoke the regard even of that domineering Pontiff,
whose threats mellowed into favours before his conciliatory bearing.
[Footnote *157: I shall not attempt to give a bibliography, however
scanty, of Ariosto. He has really nothing to do with Urbino, and
the work done concerning him would fill a library. The best life
after those of Baretti, Campori, and Baruffaldi is that of Cappelli
prefacing the _Lettere_ (Hoepli, Milano, 1887). The best edition
of his poems is that of PAPINI (Firenze, Sansoni, 1903). For
_Bibliographia Ariostesca_, see FERRAZZI (Bassano, Pozzato, 1881).
For the controversy, Ariosto-Tasso, see VIVALDI, _La Più Grande
polemica del Cinquecento_ (Catanzaro, Caliò, 1895). Consult also
EDMUND GARDNER, _Dukes and Poets at Ferrara_ (Constable, 1904), a
charming and a learned book.]
[Footnote *158: Ariosto has told us in great part his own life in his
_Satire_; best edition that of Tambara (Livorno, 1903).]
The time at which he first visited Urbino is uncertain; but in
1515, when the designs of Leo X. upon that duchy and Ferrara, the
only Romagnese principalities which still withstood the grasping
policy of the papacy, had given rise to anxieties in the families of
d'Este and della Rovere, the Cardinal repaired to Francesco Maria
I., in order to concert measures for their common safety. Ariosto
accompanied him on this journey, and, having been detained at the
Furlo pass by an attack of fever, which in his eighth Capitulo he
mentions as dangerous, he repaired to recruit his health at Urbino,
whilst Ippolito proceeded to Rome. The greeting which met our poet
at that lettered court partook of the discriminating hospitality
which genius could ever there command; and though his own poetical
reputation was as yet but dawning, his intimacy with Guido Posthumo
of Pesaro was probably a claim in his behalf to special distinction,
which the publication of his _Orlando Furioso_, before the end of
that year, firmly established. On proceeding to Rome, the favour
bestowed upon him at the Vatican was not such as either to satisfy
his just anticipations, or to do credit to the Pontiff's discernment.
In his third and seventh Satires, Ariosto comments upon the long and
intimate friendship of their former years, when the Cardinal de'
Medici had proffered him a fraternal partiality, and vows that never
again will he rely on other men's promises, postponed from ides to
calends, and from calends to ides. The reception he at first met with
might well give confidence to his hopes; for on his presentation Leo
stooped forward to press his hand, saluting him on both cheeks. But,
as the Venetian envoy caustically observed, his Holiness promised
largely, but performed not. All that followed this flattering
accolade was a privilege of copyright, not even gratuitously issued;
and as those substantial benefits, which his merits deserved and
his position required, were vainly expected, the poet quitted Rome
"with humbled crest," a disappointed man. Yet he was of too kind a
nature to harbour malice, as well as of a temper too easy for courtly
struggles. He returned to the quiet of his native state, content to
seek some respectable employment, and avowing his indifference to
scenes of wider or more varied ambition.
"Let him who golden spur or scarlet hat affects
Serve king, or duke, or cardinal, or pope;
This suits not me, who care for neither gaud."[159]
[Footnote 159: Part of this third Satire will be found translated in
ROSCOE'S _Leo X._, ch. xvi., where the demands of nepotism
upon his Holiness are playfully exposed.]
Whether his patron's proverbially slighting reception of a dedication
of the first fruits of his epic muse proceeded from obtuseness,
or, as Tiraboschi suggests, was a poor jest, it could not but be
mortifying to a man of delicacy and conscious genius. Ere long a
breach occurred between them, on Ludovico declining to attend the
Cardinal in a distant and fatiguing embassy to Hungary.[*160] This
occurred in 1517; but he was soon after admitted into the Duke
of Ferrara's service with a monthly salary of seven crowns, and
allowances for three servants and two horses. His first employment
in this new sphere was a mission, in 1519, to condole with Lorenzo
de' Medici, the usurping Duke of Urbino, on the loss of his consort
Madeleine of France; but ere he reached Florence, Lorenzo's own
death had supervened. It was on this occasion he composed his first
Capitulo, where, and in his Stanze, he speaks of that prince in the
usual fulsome style of courtly bards, alluding to his uncles Leo and
Giuliano as
"Twin suckers from that long descended laurel stem,
Which in its verdure decked a golden age."
[Footnote *160: Cf. Satire II., vv. 1-24, 85-93, 97-114, 217-231,
238-265, and III., 1-81.]
How little the duty thus imposed upon him consisted with his own
tastes may, however, be gathered from an incident characteristic
of the age. The venal conduct of Duke Francesco Maria's Spanish
followers having brought to a sudden close his attempt to regain
his patrimonial states, in the manner detailed in our thirty-sixth
chapter, one of their number resented an imputation to that effect,
cast upon his comrades by some gentlemen of Ferrara. A challenge was
the result, each party selecting a bravo to maintain their cause.
This duel by deputy took place on the Neapolitan territory, and, of
the combatants, who fought naked with swords, the Spaniard was left
dead on the field. The victor returned to be fêted in the capital
of the d'Este; and Ariosto composed his thirty-fifth sonnet upon
"Ferrara's true paladin, of truth, genius, worth, and valour, who
has cleared up the Spaniard's slippery trick upon the good Duke of
Urbino, and testified to Italian bravery." We may well suppose the
satisfaction with which the minstrel saw this "good Duke" restored
to his station in 1521, and may conjecture that he paid him homage
in his mountain capital. A room in the ducal palace there, decorated
with his portrait, went by his name, and he was enrolled among the
_Assorditi_ academicians.[161] In 1532, a few months previous to
his death, Prince Guidobaldo wrote to ask of him an unacted comedy,
for representation at Pesaro, to which he replied, regretting his
inability to comply with the request, as he had long ceased to write
such things.
[Footnote 161: See above, pp. 255-6.]
Ariosto's life presents few remarkable incidents, considering the
space which his name justly occupies in the literary annals of Italy.
Though honoured and complimented by the Dukes of Urbino and Ferrara,
and by Leo X., he seems to have incurred few solid obligations from
these Maecenases of his age. The only promotion awarded to him was
the administration of Garfagna, a mountain-holding under the d'Este
family, chiefly peopled by banditti, which he obtained in 1522, but
resigned after three years' sad experience of the turbulent charge.
His coronation by Charles V. is apocryphal, although he is understood
to have received from that Emperor a diploma as his poet laureate. He
died on the 6th of June, 1533, in his home at Ferrara, and was buried
in the old church of S. Benedetto. In 1573 his body was transported
to the new church, and in 1801 to the Public Library of Ferrara.
It would be foreign to the object proposed in these pages to
enter fully into the merits of works so universally known, and so
little connected with our immediate subject, as the heroic poems
of Ariosto. But we have ample evidence of the popularity enjoyed
by his _Orlando Furioso_, during the first half-century after its
publication, in the testimony of one not likely to be partial to a
successful rival: "And if the aim which a good poet ought to keep
in view be that of imparting pleasure and enjoyment, it is obvious
that this was accomplished by Ariosto; for there is neither artisan,
nor man of learning, nor boy, nor girl, nor old person, who is
satisfied with a second perusal of him. Are not his stanzas a solace
to the jaded pilgrim, who sings them to alleviate the irksomeness
of his hot and weary way? Do you not hear them chanted all day long
in the highways and the fields? I believe that there have not been
printed as many copies of Homer or Virgil as of the _Furioso_, during
the time that has elapsed since that most accomplished gentleman
published his poem; and if so, as cannot be doubted, is not this a
clear proof of its beauty and excellence?"[162] We set aside the
minor faults which have been found in the execution, and most gladly
escape from all critical discussion of the vexed question, as to
its due observance of unity and sustained action. The absence of
perfections so questionable is by many accounted a charm. Nowhere
has imagination been more freely indulged, nowhere the poetic vein
left to play such fantastic tricks; but in its sallies, effort and
restraint are alike unknown. As the figures in a magic-lantern, or
the endless changes of the kaleidoscope, its phantasmagoria appear
and pass by, without our being aware of the machinery which called
them up; yet, from time to time, there occur images of life so
veracious, traits of nature so touching, that we are again summoned
to the realities of existence and the sympathies of humanity, with a
startling effect scarcely less marvellous than the wild creations
which precede and follow these charming episodes. Even extravagance
thus ceases to be a blemish, whilst facility and freshness are
ever multiplying new beauties. Episodes and incidents, serious or
grotesque, capriciously introduced into the poem, give it a motley
and heterogeneous aspect; variety of matter and diversity of style
are its familiar characteristics; and its unequal execution is,
perhaps, less pardonable than the desultory character of its plan.
Nor is it only by its novelty that this freedom of action sustains
the interest of the work. The introduction of real personages and
recent events relieves the tedium of long continued allegory,
and stamps nature and individuality on adventures in themselves
extravagant and apocryphal.
[Footnote 162: Bernardo Tasso, Lettere, II., No. 165. In a privilege
of copyright granted in very complimentary terms by Leo X., the
_Orlando_ is pedantically described by Bembo as "a work in vernacular
verse regarding the feats of those called knights-errant, composed in
a ludicrous style, but with long study, and the laborious application
of many years."--Bembo, _Epistolæ nomine Leonis X._, Lib. X., No. 40.]
In estimating the rank of this poet, critical judgment has too often
been diverted from the quality of his verses to the fittingness of
his style; and in comparing him with Tasso, the argument resolves
itself into a contrast between romantic and classic poetry. Upon such
a discussion we purpose not to enter. Ariosto found his countrymen
under the charm of old legendary histories, perpetuated by tradition
from the days of Charlemagne and his paladins, and more recently
popularised in Pulci's burlesque epic of the _Morgante Maggiore_,
and by Boiardo's unfettered fancy in the _Orlando Innamorato_. He
was content to sail with the stream, spreading his canvas to the
prevailing breeze, rather than to strike out another course, and
steer in search of newer attractions. This decision necessarily
limited the scope of a highly original genius to varying the details
and episodes of inventions already familiarised to his readers by
other less inspired pens; and it were difficult to account for his
thus contentedly following their track, except from the conviction
that none else was so certain a guide to success. Domenichi and
Berni, aware that Boiardo had unworthily handled his theme, were
content to employ themselves in recasting it into more attractive
shape, and Le Sage's French translation is a mere paraphrase. But
Ariosto chose the higher aim of taking up the story where Boiardo had
left it incomplete, and working it out in forms less exaggerated and
fanciful, but far more nobly conceived, and executed with infinitely
greater polish and poetic beauty.
* * * * *
PIETRO ARETINO[*163] has been designated by Ariosto[164]
"the scourge of princes," a description somewhat more just than
the epithet of "divine," which is added possibly in irony; for few
men, it is hoped, have been so destitute of those high aspirations
which form the link between human and divine nature. He has been
aptly compared to an ill-conditioned cur, ever ready to yelp and
snap at all who do not feed or fondle him, but to such as do, the
most fawning of his species. He was born at Arezzo in 1492, and was
natural son of one Luigi Bacci. After serving his apprenticeship
to a bookbinder at Perugia, he went to push his fortunes in Rome,
where his first remarkable productions were verses illustrating a
set of engravings by Marcantonio, after designs by Giulio Romano,--a
work so scandalously offensive to decency that scarcely any copies
have escaped destruction.[*165] After the death of Giovanni de'
Medici _delle bande nere_, his earliest patron, he went to Venice,
and subsequently visited most of the Italian courts. His foul
scurrilities and loathsome adulation were dealt out with equal
readiness, as best served his insatiable avarice and undisguised
selfishness. These base qualities, tempered by tact and great
readiness, gained for him a success equally unaccountable and
undeserved; he became rich, caressed, applauded, dreaded, and is
said to have earned not less than 70,000 scudi during his career.
The popularity which his writings enjoyed among all ranks seems an
infatuation,[*166] considering their very moderate merit, and must
be viewed as symptomatic of a generally depraved taste, though no
doubt his own ineffable conceit and insolence contributed to the
delusion. "There truly never was a man who combined such haughty
presumption with equal ignorance of literature, meanness of spirit,
and debauchery of morals. His style possesses no elegance or grace;
indeed he seems to me one of the first to introduce those ludicrous
hyperboles and extravagant metaphors that came so generally into use
during the next century. Never assuredly have I met with books so
empty and useless as those of this impostor, whose baseness equalled
his profound ignorance, and the sole object of whose writings was
self-interest and lucre. As to his manners, they are amply testified
by his works, wherein, besides a prodigal sprinkling of obscenity,
there are mentioned the women with whom he intrigued, and the
children these bore him; they in fact prove him destitute of moral or
religious principle; and if ever he makes a show of compunction or
amendment, it is but to relapse speedily into his wonted profanity.
Truly such a fellow, who ought hardly to have ventured to show
himself in public, stands unequalled in presumptuous arrogance.
But the most surprising thing is to see a majority of European
princes, and not a few learned Italians, humbling themselves before
him without a blush, and rendering him a degrading tribute of gifts
and eulogies. Chains of gold, considerable sums of money, pensions,
and handsome presents of every sort, came in so constantly from
various quarters, that he confesses to receiving from different
princes 25,000 scudi within eighteen years. The most amusing part
of it is that these rich donations were made because he assumed the
proud epithet of _scourge of princes_, on the plan, as it would
seem, of threatening them with his indignation, and with attacks
upon their actions in his writings; yet never was there a more
sordid adulator of the great, and no work of his contains a single
word against any sovereign." It would be difficult to select words
more graphic or more just than this description by Tiraboschi, which
we have preferred adopting, to the task of reviewing so filthy a
character.[*167] We shall elsewhere allude to him in connection with
Michael Angelo and Titian, and other notices might be selected of
his intercourse with Duke Guidobaldo II. The self-assumed privilege
of his position did not however always protect him from the merited
consequences of his meanness and malevolence. Boccalini (an author
scarcely less mordent than himself, who is said to have expiated
his satiric vein by being beaten to death) calls him "a magnet
of fisty-cuffs and cudgels, whose enemies' hands, rivalling the
promptitude of his own pen, had scarred him all over with as many
lines as a navigator's chart." Among those who met him with his
own weapons was Antonio Francesco Doni, a literary adventurer of
Florence, whose arrival about 1552 at the court of Guidobaldo II.
inspired Aretino with jealousy which exploded in an impertinent
letter. The intruder, however, maintained his ground till 1558, the
year after his opponent's characteristic death, and retaliated in a
volume published in 1556, entitled _Doni's Earthquake, overthrowing
the great beastly colossal Antichrist of our Age; a Work composed
in Honour of God and the Holy Church, and in Defence of good
Christians_, and dedicated "to the infamous and rascally source and
fountain of all malice, Pietro Aretino, the putrid limb of public
imposture, and true Antichrist of our time."
[Footnote *163: A good edition of the _Lettere_ of ARETINO
was published under the care of Vanzolini and Bacci della Lega,
in four volumes, in Bologna, 1873-75. The best edition, now very
rare, of _I Ragionamenti_ is that of Florence, 1892. See also
FABI, _Opere da P.A._, Milano, 1881. For his life, consult
LUZIO, _P.A. nei primi suoi anni a Venezia e la corte dei
Gonzago_ (Torino, 1888); GAUTHIEZ, _L'Aretin_, 1492-1556
(Paris, 1895); and SINIGAGLIA, _Saggio di uno studio su P.A.
con scritti e documenti inediti_ (Roma, 1892). It was, I think, Mr.
Claude Phillips who wittily called Aretino not the scourge but "the
screw of princes." Nevertheless, those who knew Aretino best will
appreciate him most. Titian was wise enough to have him for a friend,
and, indeed, he was capable of many very human and even beautiful
actions, as when he would daily throw wide his doors at nightfall and
take the lost and the beggars into his house. After all, those he
blackmailed were blackmailers themselves. He made even the Pope fear
him.]
[Footnote 164: _Orlando Furioso_, XLVI., st. 14.]
[Footnote *165: These designs have lately been found and photographed
and published in Paris. They are impossible, but extremely vigorous
and lovely. The verses are even more terrible than the drawings, but
splendid too, with a sort of fullness of joy.]
[Footnote *166: His writings have much of the undoubted fascination
of the daily paper, but are on the whole less vulgar and probably
less harmful and enervating.]
[Footnote *167: This is sheer hypocrisy. Aretino's intercourse with
Urbino was so slight as to be easily ignored, and Dennistoun, as a
fact, says next to nothing of it.]
[Illustration: _Alinari_
PIETRO ARETINO
_After the picture by Titian in the Pitti Gallery, Florence_]
Still more pungent was the epigrammatic epitaph proposed for him by
Francesconi:
"Arezzo's hoary libeller here is laid,
Whose bitter slanders all save CHRIST essayed:
He for such slip this reason good can show,--
'How could I mock one whom I do not know?'"
Aretino, returning a Roland for his Oliver, rejoined:
"Francescon, wretched rhymer, here is laid,
Who of all things save asses evil said:
His plea in favour of the long-eared race,
A cousinship that none could fail to trace."[168]
[Footnote 168:
"Qui giace l'Aretino, poeta Tosco,
Che d'ognun disse male fuorchè di Christo,
Scusandosi col dir--'Non lo conosco.'"
"Qui giace Francescon, poeta pessimo,
Che disse mal d'ognun fuorchè del asino,
Scusandosi col dir--che egli era prossimo."]
But enough of such ribaldry. The writings of Aretino and his
biography are in one respect useful to the historian of his time. The
degrading views of human nature afforded by both form a contrast to
the bright luminaries which yet lingered above the horizon, whilst
by their shadows they complete the verity of the picture. Favoured
by fortune far beyond his deserts during life, his memory is equally
indebted to art. The encomium of Ariosto has already been quoted, and
the pencil of his friend Titian has preserved his person in several
portraits; one of them, which, though unfinished, is perhaps the
noblest commemorated on Vecellio's canvass, adorns the Pitti Gallery,
and almost persuades us that Aretino was a gentleman.
* * * * *
From an age too prolific in parasitical literature and in shameless
morals, there has descended to us a name radiant with genius, and
unsullied in reputation. The historian of Urbino may contribute
a leaf to the garland which fame has hung upon the brows of
VITTORIA COLONNA,[*169] for her mother was a princess of
Montefeltro, and to her maternal ancestry she seems indebted for
her heritage of talent. She was daughter of Fabrizio Colonna, by
Agnesina daughter of Duke Federigo of Urbino, and was born in 1490.
When but four years old she was betrothed, in conformity with the
usage of her times, to a mere infant. Yet her marriage may be deemed
fortunate, for her husband, Ferdinando Francesco Marquis of Pescara,
was not only a cadet of the very ancient house of Avalos, which had
accompanied Alfonzo of Aragon from Spain to Naples, and had married
the heiress of Aquino and Pescara in the Abruzzi, but, among the
warriors of an era still fertile in heroes, none was more early
distinguished or promoted. He died prematurely at thirty-three,
while in command of the imperial troops. His consort, imitating her
grandmother Battista Sforza, had learned to console the childless
solitude of his prolonged absences by habits of study, and in them
found resource amid the bereavements of a widowhood which no offer
of marriage could tempt her to infringe. But though she sought not
the world or its incense, her high rank, wealth, and personal graces,
gained many an admirer, whilst the elevated beauty of her poetry,
the charms of her conversation and correspondence, attracted to her
the respectful adoration of the learned. She cherished her husband's
memory with rare constancy, modifying grief by spiritual solace. In
her piety there was neither blind superstition nor cold formality.
Devotional exercises and religious intercourse shared her hours with
poetry and literature tinged by their influence, and among her most
welcome visitors were some of those Italian divines who favoured the
Reformation. On this account she has been claimed as a convert to
protestantism, but upon insufficient grounds. She adhered apparently
to the faith of her fathers, and was spared by a timely death, in
1547, from witnessing the persecutions undergone by her friends of
the new creed.[*170] Among those to whom the sympathies of genius and
piety united her was Michael Angelo, who testified his respect by a
visit to her death-bed, and his regret by a touching sonnet to her
memory.[*171] Not less gratifying was the tribute to her worth which
Ariosto has embalmed in seven stanzas of the Furioso, canto xxxvii.:--
"One will choose, and such will choose, that she
All envy shall so well have overthrown,
No other woman can offended be,
If, passing others, her I praise alone;
No joys this one but immortality,
Through her sweet style, and better know I none."
[Footnote *169: For the life of Vittoria Colonna, see CAMPORI,
_Vittoria Colonna_ in _Atti e Mem. della Dep. di St. Pat.
dell'Emilia_, N.S., vol. III., (Modena, 1878). LUZIO, _V.C._, in
_Rivista St. Mantovana_ (1885), vol. I., p. 1 _et seq._ On her
mother, Agnese di Montefeltro, cf. CASINI-TORDI, in _Giornale
Vittoria Colonna_, vol. I., No. 10. On her poems, cf. MAZZONE, _V.C.
e il suo Canzoniere_ (1900). She was born at Marino in 1492. She was
married 27th December, 1509, in Ischia, to Ferrante d'Avalos Marchese
di Pescara. Miss MAUD JERROLD has published recently (Dent, 1907) a
work in English on Vittoria Colonna which should be excellent.]
[Footnote *170: See, on this subject, RODOCANACCHI, _V.C. et la
Réforme en Italie_ (Versailles, 1892), and TACCHI-VENTURI, _V.C.
fautrice della riforma cattolica_ (Roma, 1901).]
[Footnote *171: For her relations with Michelangelo, see RACZYNSKI,
_Les Arts en Portugal_ (Paris, 1846, pp. 1-78).]
Of her writings few remain, and these but fugitive pieces.[*172]
We are happy in being able to make our readers acquainted with
them through the graceful translations of the late Mr. Glassford,
selecting three sonnets in which she tenderly alludes to the blight
of her widowhood, mildly inculcates the cloisters' quiet, and clothes
in glowing language orisons of holiest fervour.
[Footnote *172: For her writings, see FERRERO e MULLER, _Il Carteggio
di Vittoria Colonna_ (Torino, 1859), with the supplement (1892) of
TORDI, who has also published (Pistoia, 1900) _Il codice delle rime
di V.C. app. a Margh. d'Angoulême_, and some unpublished _Sonetti_
(Roma, 1891).]
I.
"Methinks the sun his wonted beam denies,
Nor lends such radiance to his sister's car;
Methinks each planet mild, and lovely star,
Has left its sweet course in the spangled skies.
Fallen is the heart of noble enterprise,
True glory perished and the pride of war;
All grace and every virtue perished are,
The leaf is withered and the floweret dies.
Unmoved I am, though heaven and earth invite,
Warmed by no ray nor fanned if zephyr blow;
All offices of nature are deranged:
Since the bright sun that cheered me vanished so,
The courses of the world have quite been changed;
Ah no! but sorrow veils them from my sight."
II.
"If those delights which from the living well
Above are dropped into the heart contrite
Were also visible, and others might
Know what great peace with love divine can dwell,
Perhaps it would be then less hard to tell
Why fame and fortune have been counted light,
And how the wisest men transported quite
Would take their cross and seek the mountain cell,
Finding that death-sweet life; and not alone
In prospect, but now also while the blind
And erring world from the shadows will not cease.
When the awakened soul to God has flown
With humble will to what He wills inclined,
Then outward war to such is inward peace."
III.
"Thanks to thy sovereign grace, O God! if I
Am graff'd in that true vine a living shoot,
Whose arms embrace the world, and in whose root,
Planted by faith, our life must hidden lie,
But thou beholdest how I fade and dry,
Choked with a waste of leaf, and void of fruit,
Unless thy spring perennial shall recruit
My sapless branch, still wanting fresh supply.
O cleanse me then, and make me to abide
Wholly in thee, to drink thy heavenly dew,
And watered daily with my tears to grow.
Thou art the truth, thy promise is my guide;
Prepare me when thou comest, Lord, to show
Fruits answering to the stock on which I grew."
In Italy the Muses have ever had numerous priestesses, welcomed with
an enthusiasm measured rather by the gallantry of their admirers than
by their real deserts. Among these was LAURA BATTIFERRI,
born at Urbino in 1522-3, whose genius has inspired the pens of Caro,
Varchi, Mazzuchelli, and others; and whom by a questionable, and,
as regarded her morals, a most unmerited compliment, Pietro Vettori
compared to Sappho. Following a very different model, she, like
Vittoria Colonna, composed many devotional pieces, often versifying
the sadder portions of sacred writ, two volumes of which were
published at Florence. Rarer perhaps, and more creditable than her
poetic celebrity, was the reputation for moral worth transmitted to
us in connection with her name, which she happily exchanged by her
union with Bartolomeo Ammanati, notwithstanding frowns from a high
quarter. The Duchess Vittoria, proud of her talents, laid upon her
an injunction not to marry out of her native state. This restriction
had the usual result; her husband was a Florentine sculptor, and it
required all the influence of Cardinal Alessandro Farnese with his
sister to obtain pardon for such flagrant disobedience.
* * * * *
"In 1558, there were at the court of Urbino--of old the resort
of talented persons--many great and famous poets, such as Messer
Bernardo Capello, Messer Bernardo Tasso, Messer Girolamo Muzio,
and Messer Antonio Gallo, whose whole occupation it was, like
white gentle swans, emulously to sing, and celebrate in verse, the
eminent beauty, and far more eminent virtues, of the illustrious
Duchess." With these names might be coupled Dionigi Atanagi, the
writer of this euphuism, and also Annibale Caro, Antonio Allegretti,
Marco Montano, and Cornelio Lanci. Of Tasso and Muzio we elsewhere
speak. Caro and Capello were connected with the ducal family only
by one or two complimentary effusions, in return for occasional
hospitality. Allegretti indited an epithalamium on the marriage of
Duchess Vittoria, in which, alluding to the heraldic bearings then
united, he celebrated the prudent hand of the wise shepherd (Paul
III.), who transplanted that virgin Lily into good soil under the
shadow of the mighty Oak; in conclusion, he summoned the attendants
to scatter acorns and _fleurs-de-lis_ before the bridal pair. Lanci's
comedies no longer "fret and strut their hour upon the stage," but
they are said to deserve the praise of comparative purity in an age
when decency was no necessary ingredient of scenic merit. Three names
remain for consideration, who, as natives of the duchy, may claim a
brief notice.
DIONIGI ATANAGI was born at Cagli, and, after twenty-five
years spent at the Roman court, returned, in 1557, to recruit his
constitution in his native air. He was invited to Pesaro by his
sovereign, at the suggestion of Bernardo Tasso, who wished him to
revise the _Amadigi_; but there he found his health still further
impaired by mental fatigue. Several of his sonnets are addressed to
members of the ducal family and court; one of them, inscribed to
Guidobaldo II., lauds him as "a prince and captain of invincible
valour, of wisdom superhuman, of bounty and benignity past belief,
of ineffable eloquence, of incomparable liberality and magnificence,
a paragon of religion, the lofty stay of Italian honour and renown.
Being the natural sovereign as well as special patron and singular
benefactor of the author, whose every hope rests in him next to
God, it is his desire, in the full knowledge how much is due to his
Excellency's infinite merits, to fill with heroic praises of him
whatever work he may undertake; but overwhelmed by the grandeur of
the theme, his silence is broken only by excuses for his deficiency."
This fulsome trash is no unfair specimen of such compositions. The
following invitation to Urbino, as an asylum of the Muses, is in a
somewhat happier vein, which we have endeavoured to render:--
"Anime belle, e di virtute amiche,
Cui fero sdegno di fortuna offende,
Sì che ven gite povere e mendiche,
Come e lei piace, che pietà contende;
Se di por fine alle miserie antiche
Caldo desio l'afflitto cor v'incende,
Ratte correte alia gran QUERCIA d'oro,
Ond'avrete alimento ombra e ristoro.
"Qui regna un Signor placido e benigno,
Ch'altro ch'altrui giovar unqua non pensa,
Cortese, e d'ogni real laude degno;
Che ciascun pasce a sua ricca mensa,
E 'n buon revolge ogni destin maligno,
Mentre le grazie sue largo dispensa
GUIDOBALDO, di principi fenici,
Che può col guardo sol far l'uom felice.
"Qui le buone arti ed i nobili costumi,
Senno, fede e valor, fido albergo hanno;
Qui fioriscon gl'ingegni, e chiari lumi
Via più ch'il sol spargendo intorno vanno:
Qui mel le piante, qui dan latte i fiumi;
Qui pace è queta senza alcuno affanno;
Qui 'l vizio è morto, e virtù bella è viva
Beato chi ci nasce e chi ci arriva."
1.
Ah! beauteous souls, to virtue ever prone,
Whom evil Fortune's cruel grudge offends,
Bereft of every stay, and left to groan
By her caprice, while heavy grief impends;
If in your aching hearts that grief evoke
A wish such lengthened miseries to close,
Speed 'neath the umbrage of the golden OAK
To share its genial shelter and repose.
2.
A gentle and benignant Prince there reigns,
On other's weal exclusively intent,
Courteous, and worth all praise in royal strains,
From whose well plenished table none are sent.
Each evil destiny by him disarmed,
His gracious boons are scattered widely round;
E'en by his winning glance is each one charmed,
Phoenix of princes, GUIDOBALDO crowned.
3.
Ennobling arts and noble manners here,
With wit, and faith, and courage have their home,
While genius' meteor gleams more bright appear
Than Phoebus flickering in the skiey dome.
Here honey-laden meads and milky streams
To painless peace attract, and gentle rest;
Here vice is dead, while worth resplendent seems:
Happy such duchy's native, or its guest!
Among the men of letters whom it was the pride of Guidobaldo II. to
attract round him, was ANTONIO GALLI, of Urbino. His uncle,
the Cavalier Angelo, had preceded him, both in the cultivation of the
muses, and in the good graces of the Dukes, having been employed on
various political missions by Guidantonio, Oddantonio, and Federigo;
during his leisure hours he had composed sonnets and canzonets in
imitation of Petrarch, then the popular model for minor poets. For
Antonio has been claimed the questionable honour of introducing
pastoral dramas, which long exercised a debilitating influence on the
literature of Italy, and spread from there the vitiating style to
other lands. He, too, held diplomatic appointments at the courts of
Rome and Spain, and to the republic of Venice; and having acquired
the reputation of a man, not less of business than of letters, the
Duke entrusted him with the superintendence of Prince Francesco
Maria, until his death in 1551. His contemporary and friend MARCO
MONTANO enjoyed his sovereign's favour without sharing any
public employments. In youth he had been secretary of Cardinal Carlo
Borromeo, and afterwards addicted himself to Latin and Italian verse,
with a success sufficient to gain him applause from Baldi, and from
Tasso the compliment of being ranked next to Guarini among the living
bards of Italy. The suffrage of these partial friends has not been
confirmed by posterity; for Montano's poetry lies forgotten, and his
name is cherished only in connection with the literary history of his
native state.
* * * * *
Among the names which shed a lustre upon Urbino, in return for
hospitalities received at that court, was that of BERNARDO
TASSO,[*173] whose splendour would have been more conspicuous
in the galaxy of Italian poets, had he not given birth to a son of
yet brighter genius. The house of Tasso was of ancient descent in the
Bergamasque territory; but Bernardo drew his first breath at Venice,
the home of his mother, a lady of the Cornari. Of his youth we know
nothing, except that he enjoyed the advantage of a liberal education,
and that his morals were no exception to the lax habits of the age.
An avowed lover of the matronly Ginevra Malatesta, he sang her beauty
in strains complaining of her continence; and at Rome he dangled in
poverty after Tullia d'Aragona, one of those splendid examples of
wasted powers and successful vice over which the philosopher puzzles
while the historian sighs, whose talents were given to the Muses,
whose graces were devoted to Venus.
[Footnote *173: Cf. PASOLINI, _I Genitori di T. Tasso_ (Roma, 1895).]
[Illustration: BERNARDO TASSO
_From a picture once in the possession of James Dennistoun_]
Finding himself past thirty without either an independence or a
career, he commenced the life of a literary courtier, for which the
social condition of Italy under her many principalities held out
considerable inducements. His first essay was as private secretary to
Count Guido Rangone, a warrior chief of some distinction; and during
the Lombard campaign in 1526 Bernardo was sent by him on missions of
importance to the Doge of Genoa and to the Pope.[*174] He remained
with the latter on Bourbon's approach, and was commissioned by his
Holiness to seek out Lannoy at Siena, and urge him to repair to
Rome, take command of the imperial troops, and put an end to their
outrages. In this journey the speed of his Turkish charger enabled
him to escape from an assault which proved fatal to one of his
attendants. Though unsuccessful in the negotiation, his dexterity
recommended him as papal envoy to the court of France, in order to
arrange the advance of Lautrec, whom he accompanied into Italy. After
the destruction of the French army before Naples, we find him for a
time secretary to Laura Duchess of Ferrara, and he accompanied the
Marquis of Vasto on the Turkish campaign in Hungary.
[Footnote *174: He went in 1528 to Paris on behalf of Conte Guido.]
It was in 1531 that he entered the service of Ferdinando or Ferrante
Sanseverino, Prince of Salerno, whom he attended to Africa in the
expedition of Charles V. against Tunis. His patron was a prince of
ample means, and of corresponding generosity to persons of literary
merit; and Tasso, having distinguished himself by several published
collections of verses, as well as by the able performance of his
more immediate duties, was rewarded by offices and pensions yielding
him about 1000 scudi a year. Finding himself thus independent at
forty-six, he married Porzia de' Rossi, the beautiful, accomplished,
and well-dowried daughter of a noble family in Pistoia, and settled
himself at Sorrento, where he spent the best and happiest years of
his life, and, with occasional interruptions of business and calls to
the camp, pursued his poetical studies.[*175]
[Footnote *175: Cf. CAPASSO, _Il Tasso e la sua famiglia a Sorrento_
(Napoli, 1866).]
On that plain which matures a tropical luxuriance of vegetation,
and where nature lavishes the brightest of her varying tints,
his inspiration was developed, and the more brilliant genius of
his son imbibed its earliest impressions. The casino in which
Torquato first saw the light[176] commanded a view of unparalleled
beauty;--the bright bay and its far-off islands of picturesque
outline,--Naples, with its endless line of white suburbs glittering
along the shore,--Vesuvius, the marvellous workshop of volcanic
wonders,--golden sunsets of unclouded glow, and mellowed combinations
of mountain and marine scenery awaiting the pencil of Salvator Rosa.
Nor were these the only charms which the poet found in this spot. He
has celebrated in his correspondence its balmy and healthful climate,
and the courteous hospitality of its inhabitants. These qualities
still attract strangers to the Piano di Sorrento, and the villa which
sheltered Torquato on his escape from Ferrara is now a comfortable
hotel, inviting them to gaze from its beetling cliff on the scenes of
his youthful inspiration.
[Footnote 176: On the 11th of March, 1544; Bernardo was born the 11th
November, 1493.]
The _Amadigi_ was commenced in that genial spot, and the Prince of
Salerno complacently anticipated the extended reputation which it
promised to his protégé. But the storm, meanwhile, gathered, which
was to sweep patron and poet from their palmy state. The Prince, by
entanglements which we need not trace, found himself compromised with
the Viceroy, Don Pedro Toledo, and, from mingled alarm and pique,
sacrificed his vast hereditary stake, by passing over to the French
service. This happened in 1552,[*177] and Tasso followed his fortunes
without being involved in his treason. After accompanying him to
France, he came, in 1554, to Rome, where he took up his abode, in the
hope of soon being joined by his wife and family, and of establishing
himself there. But she was detained at Naples, for the purpose of
recovering part of her husband's property, or at all events her own
fortune, which had been escheated on his flight. Her difficulties
were increased by the selfish conduct of her own relations, and
at length, in the spring of 1556, she died suddenly, not without
suspicion of poison. "I have lost," writes her husband, "a woman
whose virtues and estimable qualities rendered her beloved and
endeared to me as life itself, who was worthy of general admiration,
and in whose bosom I had hoped peacefully to pass the closing years
of my old age!" But other cares were falling thickly around him.
Though joined by his son Torquato, he could never rescue his only
other child Cornelia from her maternal relations, and suffered
intense anxiety for her welfare. Still nominally in the Prince of
Salerno's service, and actually employed as his confidential agent,
he found himself estranged from his regard, his correspondence
interrupted, and his salary irregularly paid. Bitterly experiencing
the not unfrequent guerdon of fidelity to fallen dignitaries, he thus
addressed his patron in February, 1556:--
"Your Excellency has now to learn the influence of unstable and
malignant fortune upon this your unhappy servant. You know how often
you have quoted me as an instance of happiness, saying that I had a
beautiful and virtuous wife, by whom I was beloved, and on whom I
doated; that I had the finest children, ample means, an excellent
house well decorated, as well as comfortably furnished; and that I
enjoyed the respect and good opinion of the world, as well as that
most important advantage of all, your favour. Now you may see in
how brief an interval I have fallen from that height of happiness
into the depths of misery. I have lost my means, earned, as all
know, most honourably, and with no small fatigue and peril. I have
lost my independence; and, in a word, my every comfort. I have been
deprived of my dearest wife, and with her have occasioned to my
unhappy children the sacrifice of their mother's dowry, and of all
my remaining prospect of maintaining them, and conducting them to
that position which every respectable and affectionate parent would
desire. But, worst of all, I perceive from obvious symptoms, that I
have forfeited your favour without having given you the slightest
cause. The reason of my sinking into these misfortunes, being obvious
to the whole world, should not be concealed from you. I am so
situated, that any one refusing to compassionate me must be devoid of
pity and all good feeling; and if you still retain the smallest share
of that magnanimity, generosity, or gratitude which you were wont so
honourably to manifest to your servants, you will yet have pity on
me, and will endeavour to raise me from that abyss of wretchedness
into which I have fallen in your service."
[Footnote *177: 1547.]
This sad appeal meeting with no response, he retired from the
Prince's service with a nominal pension of 300 scudi, which seems
never to have been paid him. Writing to a friend, he says, "I have
thrown out into this sea of troubles many anchors of reason, to save
my tempest-tost mind from shipwreck. But I fear that, in the long
run, if not conducted into port by a favouring breeze from some
benignant prince, I may be swamped, from the cable of my constancy
parting; for it is hard from prosperity and happiness to fall into
misery, and struggle with famine." Scared away from Rome by the din
of coming war, in the renewed strife between France and Spain for the
domination of the Peninsula, and
"Eating the bitter bread of banishment,"
he had reached Ravenna, when an invitation arrived from Guidobaldo
II., Duke of Urbino, a cousin of his late patron, whose court offered
to genius just such a haven as he had hoped for. In October, 1556,
he reached Pesaro, where the Duke assigned as a residence for the
poet his casino called the Barchetto, a house which still stands
within the walls of Pesaro, surrounded by a smiling garden. Its
very limited accommodation, now used by the gardener, cannot have
afforded a commodious dwelling, but such as it was, it appears to
have satisfied Bernardo, who after a few weeks was encouraged by the
Duke's courtesy to send for his son, with a view to establishing
himself in that capital. His residence there somewhat exceeded two
years, during which we gather from his correspondence few incidents
beyond his literary occupations. Though avowing himself in the
service of Guidobaldo, he does not seem to have had from him either
employment or a fixed maintenance, but was probably supported by his
hospitality. He now put the finishing touches to his _Amadigi_, begun
fourteen years before, and repaid the favours bestowed upon him with
the usual homage of a courtly poet. Anxiously clinging to the hope
of making his peace with Spain, in order to recover his own and his
wife's property which had been confiscated at Naples, he obtained
the mediation of several courts in his favour, and even had recourse
to the good offices of Cardinal Pole with Philip II., then husband
of the English Queen Mary. In this object Guidobaldo particularly
interested himself, and it was at his suggestion that Bernardo
dedicated his poem to that monarch, whose praises, with those of
his consort, had been already sung in its eleventh canto. But his
pearls were lavished unavailingly on one incapable of appreciating
either the gift or the donor, and a long apologetic letter from
Girolamo Ruscelli, which accompanied the peace-offering, remained
unacknowledged.
In these times literary advertisements were unknown, but the
reputation of a forthcoming work was heralded by a scarcely less
effectual expedient. Passages of it were handed about in manuscript
among literary circles, and criticisms were requested from the
author's more intimate friends. Thus was it with the _Amadigi_; and
Bernardo has not shrunk from giving to the world the letters by which
he sought for or replied to such suggestions. Dionigi Atanagi was
summoned from Cagli by the Duke, for the purpose of making those
verbal corrections which were rendered irksome to the poet by weak
sight. Sperone Speroni writes to the author that, in two revisions,
he had removed the vulgarisms, roughnesses, and redundancies,
cancelling above two hundred stanzas, and that, in a third reading,
he would probably delete as many more. The first conception was that
of a regular epic; but the cold reception which it met with from his
friends induced Bernardo to adopt a manner more conformable to the
romantic and less fettered taste of the age. In the summer of 1557
he read a canto each night, at Urbino, to the Duchess Vittoria and a
select audience. Having thus raised public anticipation, the poet was
anxious to reap the fruits of his labours in honour and emolument;
but he found a double difficulty in obtaining the 500 scudi required
for the expense of an edition, and in procuring the papal licence
without having the work submitted regularly to the censure. At
length, in 1560, it issued, by the aid of Guidobaldo, from the press
of Giolito, at Venice, in which town Tasso had chiefly resided for
eighteen months, and where he, for a short time, acted as secretary
to a literary academy, established in 1558, before which he read his
Essay on Poetry. His remaining years produced few incidents. After
an ineffectual overture to take service at the court of Savoy, he
became chief secretary to the Duke of Mantua, who made him governor
of Ostiglia. There he died on the 4th of September, 1569; and the
epitaph penned by his son, but never placed over his ashes, runs
thus:--
Erected by his son Torquato to
BERNARDO TASSO,
Distinguished for the fertility and eminence
of his genius, in the relaxation of poetry
and in the affairs of princes, in both of which
he has left memorials of his industry, as
well as for the fickleness and inconstancy of
his fortunes.
He lived LXXVI. years, and died IV Sept. MDLXIX.
His bereavement was thus intimated by Torquato to the Duke of
Urbino: "On the 4th of September it pleased the Lord God to call to
himself the blessed soul of my father, whose death, although in all
respects mature, is nevertheless felt by me as most untimely, and,
I am persuaded, will be very unacceptable to your Excellency, who
by so many proofs of regard considered him among your most esteemed
servants, and towards whom I know his especial reverence. Of this
respect, and of the infinite obligations under which he lay to your
Excellency, I am most willingly the representative; and if that
favour which your Excellency ever extended for his protection, and
that of his interests, be devolved upon me, I shall deem it an ample
patrimony that he has left me. And herewith praying a happy issue to
all your honoured desires, I humbly kiss your hands. From Ferrara,
the 28th September, 1569."
An amiable disposition and agreeable manners procured for Bernardo
Tasso, in all the fluctuations of his career, troops of friends,
including the brightest names of his age. In the many situations of
trust which he filled, his prudence and address, his fidelity and
sincerity, acquired for him general estimation. Although his literary
reputation now hangs, in a great degree, upon that of his son, his
contemporaries, who knew not what the latter had in store for them,
regarded him as the first epic poet of his age, comparing him even
with Ariosto, whom he freely and avowedly imitated. To draw out some
fifty-seven thousand verses on a borrowed and almost barren theme,
in a style anticipated by several preceding minstrels, was an effort
repugnant to fine genius, and susceptible of no marked success. Its
necessary failing is diffuseness, varying from inflation to languor;
its redeeming merit an acknowledged facility, sustained at times
by fertile images, and by delicately beautiful descriptions. It is
generally flowing, though, at times, feeble; yet is considered by
Panizzi "unquestionably the best romantic narrative from amongst
those not founded on the traditions respecting Charlemagne." Indeed,
his poetry, while sharing with coeval productions the blemishes
of exuberant ornament and quaint conceits, is seldom surpassed in
pathos, and his dulcet numbers reconcile us to his faults of manner.
What, to its author, was probably its most important quality, is now,
perhaps, its greatest defect,--the profuse flattery of which it was
made the medium. "To eat the bread of others" was the often hard,
usually degrading, tenure self-imposed on court poets; and to such, a
subject admitting of endless episodes, and the frequent introduction
of existing personages, in their real characters or under transparent
allegories, was a harvest of princely favour and of wealth. This,
however, was an error of the age, which ought not to be charged on
any single poet, least of all on one who had given his best and
worthiest efforts to a barren soil. The fugitive poetry of Tasso
partakes largely of this adulatory colouring. But, for him is claimed
such praise as the invention of the Ode deserves; and this was deemed
creditable service to a literature which has often invested trifles
with undue importance.
Bernardo was a secretary ere he became a poet, and his reputation
rests more surely upon his correspondence than on his verses. That
rhetoric which Bembo inculcated by precept and practice had become
a fashion among men of literary pretension; their letters were
composed as models of style, and manuscript or printed collections of
them were in very general circulation. Such compositions, when thus
written for the public, wanted the freshness and simplicity which
constitute their best charm; but they gained attractions of another
sort, and came to be read more for their manner than their matter. To
this class belong the letters of the elder Tasso: nitid in style, but
cold in feeling, they exhibit the niceties of Italian idiom, rather
than the familiarities of Italian life. A very favourable specimen,
but too long for insertion here, is that in which he proposes to his
wife the principles which ought to guide her in bringing up their
children, and in the formation of their manners and character. Though
sometimes smoothed down to commonplace, it breathes a fine spirit of
paternal affection, and combines religious observance with a becoming
knowledge of the world.