METASTASIO.
PIETRO TRAPASSI was born in Rome on the third of January, 1698. His
parents were of humble origin, and he was apprenticed to a goldsmith.
He was gifted by nature with a musical voice, and he soon attracted
attention, not only by repeating the verses of others, but by
improvising verses of his own. A literary man of those days, Gian
Vincenzo Gravina, was among those who were interested in the infant
prodigy, and so high an opinion did he form of the youth's natural
abilities, that he decided to educate him and to start him in life.
Never did a benefactor bestow his kindness on a worthier object.
Gravina changed the boy's name from Trapassi to METASTASIO, and not
only taught him Greek and Latin, but also introduced him to the study
of the law, in which he himself was a proficient. In his will, he left
his protégé fifteen thousand scudi, that he might have leisure to
cultivate his intellectual gifts.
Unfortunately, Metastasio was but young, and his sudden accession to
fortune turned his head. The fifteen thousand scudi were soon spent
in the company of friends who deserted him the moment they discovered
that he was no longer able to entertain them as before. He awoke from
his dream of prosperity, and found himself solitary and neglected in
the vast wilderness of Rome. To add to his misfortunes, Pope Clement XI
had become prejudiced against him by the extravagance of his conduct.
He saw that there was no opening for him in Rome, and he determined to
fall back upon his legal knowledge and to enter the office of a notary
at Naples.
Italian Opera was beginning its brilliant career at that epoch, and
Metastasio had, when in Rome, written a drama for music which had
obtained much applause. A Neapolitan manager, on the look out for
a libretto, heard that the young Roman poet was in the town, and
commissioned him to write a work for his theatre. Metastasio produced
_Gli Orti Esperidi._ It was brilliantly successful. The celebrated
singer, Marianna Bulgarelli, surnamed "La Romanina," appeared as Venus,
and a life-long friendship was begun between her and the poet. His next
work, _Didom Abbandonata,_ was an even greater triumph, and, wonderful
for chose days, the poet derived handsome pecuniary profit from his
success. He was able in time to pay off his debts and to return to
Rome. Here he took Holy Orders, and was henceforth known as the Abbé
Metastasio.
The Emperor Charles VI was a passionate lover of music, and kept not
only an Italian company in Vienna, but also an Italian poet to write
the words of the operas which his favourite composers received orders
to set to music. The poet was entitled "Poeta Cesareo," and enjoyed a
liberal stipend. The post was occupied by Apostolo Zeno, a Venetian,
who, on retiring by reason of advancing years, recommended the
brilliant Metastasio as his successor. Accordingly, in 1730, Metastasio
set out for Vienna, and although he lived for fifty-two years longer,
he never returned to his native country.
His old friend, Marianna Bulgarelli, died some years after he had gone
to Austria, and she left him a large part of her considerable fortune.
But he refused to accept it, as he was of opinion that it ought to have
gone to her husband, to whom, accordingly, it was handed over.
Metastasio is the only writer of librettos whose works have risen to
the dignity of a classic. Indeed, they are still remembered when the
composers who set them to music have sunk into oblivion. Some of his
dramas seem to have been used by several composers in succession, and
one, _La Clemenza di Tito,_ produced in Vienna for the first time with
the music of Caldara on the fourth of November, 1734, was many years
afterwards used by the illustrious Mozart.
The highest favour of the Imperial family was bestowed upon Metastasio
during the reign of Charles VI, and was continued by the Empress Maria
Theresa and her son, Joseph II. It was only natural that he should feel
the most intense loyalty in return, and when the House of Hapsburg
suffered cruel reverses in the War of the Austrian Succession, and
later on, in the Seven Years' War, he sympathised acutely with his
Imperial mistress.
Alfieri tells us in his _Memoirs_ that he might have had an
introduction to Metastasio during his stay in Vienna, but that he saw
him one day in the park at Schönbrunn making the customary obeisance to
Maria Theresa with an air of such cheerful adulation, that he conceived
the most supreme contempt for so servile a poet. But surely this is
carrying independence to the verge of churlishness. If Metastasio had
not reason to show his gratitude, who had? And the most ardent opponent
of tyranny must own that Maria Theresa had qualities that give her
a lofty rank among the monarchs, not only of her own century, but of
those past and to come.
Metastasio lived in uninterrupted prosperity in Vienna for half a
century, and when he died on the twelfth of April, 1782, he was
universally regretted in the country of his adoption and in that of his
birth. He amassed a handsome fortune of one hundred thousand florins,
which he left to the family of the Councillor Martinez, with whom he
had resided since he first came to Vienna.
The popularity of Metastasio's works during his lifetime was unbounded.
He is of all Italian poets the easiest for a foreigner to understand.
In consideration for the composers, he only selected those words that
most readily lent themselves to the purpose of singing. Thus his
vocabulary is somewhat limited, and he has a tendency to repeat the
same imagery. The construction of his phrases is simplicity itself, and
he offers no obscure passages for the reader to solve. He is neither
very profound nor very picturesque; he is essentially musical. But he
had a beautiful mind, and his tenderness and pathos have the qualities
of freshness and purity. The dialogue of his dramas, though musical
in versification, is not striking in substance, but every character
of importance, before leaving the stage, or at the end of an act,
is given a song, and it is by virtue of these glorious songs that
Metastasio continues to charm us even at the present day. They are so
musical that they positively sing themselves. They are so clear and
pointed in expression, that they easily impress themselves upon the
memory. He takes his plots from Ancient History and from Mythology,
and for his Oratorios, from the Bible. The local colouring is not
always very vivid, and we see too often the powdered hair and the red
heels of the age of Rococo. But the stories have plenty of spirit
and human interest, and if heroes like Titus and Cæsar sigh too much
in the manner of love-lorn swains, they do so in lines so melodious
that pardon cannot be withheld. An exquisite selection could be made
from the songs in Metastasio's operas, in which we find thoughts
tender, beautiful and ingenious, expressed in language delightfully
spontaneous, fresh and emphatic. The meaning is so linked with the
music of the verse, and that music is so peculiar to the Italian
language, that the subtle charm of the original would evaporate in
translation.
I will quote a few of the finest.
In the _Didone Abbandonata,_ Dido charges her sister Selene, who
herself is in love with Æneas, to assure him that she will ever love
him. Selene leaves the stage after singing the following song. The
passages in brackets are supposed to be asides:
Dirò che fida sei,
Su la mia fè riposa;
Sarò per te pietosa;
(Per me crudel sarò.)
Sapranno i labbri miei
Scoprirgli il tuo desio.
(Ma la mia pena, oh Dio!
Come nasconderò?)
Dido vindicates her Royal dignity:
Son regina, e sono amante;
E l' impero io sola voglio
Del mio soglio e del mio cor.
Darmi legge in van pretende
Chi l' arbitrio a me contende
Della gloria e dell' amor.
Selene says that every lover fancies that beauty alone makes him
fall in love; but it is not beauty, it is a fond desire that rises
unexpectedly, that delights us, and we know not why:
Ogni amator suppone
Che della sua ferita
Sia la beltà cagione,
Ma la beltà non è.
È un bel desio, che nasce
Allor che men s'aspetta;
Si sente che diletta,
Ma non si sa perchè.
In the _Artaserse,_ Mandane implores of Arbace not to forget her, as
she will not forget him:
Conservati fedele;
Pensa ch' io resto e peno;
E qualche volta almeno
Ricordati di me.
Ch' io per virtù d'amore,
Parlando col mio core,
Ragionerò con te.
In the Oratorio of _Gioas,_ Ismaele says that the race of David is not
exterminated as was supposed, and compares it to a flower that revives
from a languishing condition, and to a torch giving out new light when
it seemed to be dying:
Pianta così, che pare
Estinta, inaridita,
Torna più bella in vita
Talvolta a germogliar.
Face così talora,
Che par che manchi e mora,
Di maggior lume adorna
Ritorna a scintillar.
In the _Olimpiade,_ Argene, disguised as a Shepherdess, sings with a
Chorus of Maidens the praises of the forest:
_Coro._
Oh care selve, oh cara
Felice libertà!
_Argene._
Qui se un piacer si gode,
Parte non v'ha la frode,
Ma lo condisce a gara
Amore e fedeltà.
_Coro._
Oh care selve, oh cara
Felice libertà!
_Argene._
Qui poco ognun possiede,
E ricco ognun si crede;
Ne, più bramando, impara
Che cosa è povertà.
_Coro._
Oh care selve, oh cara
Felice libertà!
_Argene._
Senza custode o mura
La pace è qui sicura,
Che l'altrui voglia avara
Onde allettar non ha.
_Coro._
Oh care selve, oh cara
Felice libertà!
Megacle declares that as he followed his friend in prosperity, so will
he stand by him in adversity:
Lo seguitai felice
Quand' era il ciel sereno;
Alle tempeste in seno
Voglio seguirlo ancor.
Come dell' oro il foco
Scopre le masse impure,
Scoprono le sventure
De' falsi amici il cor.
Aminta compares himself in his misfortune to a ship-wrecked mariner who
gives up all hope and abandons himself to his fate:
Son qual per mare ignoto
Naufrago passegiero,
Già con la morte a nuoto
Ridotto a contrastar.
Ora un sostegno, ed ora
Perde una stella; al fine
Perde la speme ancora,
E s' abbandona al mar.
The Chorus and Semi-chorus implore Jove to pardon a sacrilege:
_Coro._
I tuoi strali, terror de mortali,
Ah! sospendi, gran padre de Numi,
Ah! deponi, gran Nume de' re.
_Parte del Coro._
Fumi il tempio del sangue d'un empio
Che oltraggiò con insano furore,
Sommo Giove, un imago di te.
_Coro._
I tuoi strali, terror de' mortali,
Ah! sospendi, gran padre de' Numi,
Ah! deponi, gran Nume de' re.
_Parte del Coro._
L'onde chete del pallido Lete
L'empio varchi; ma il nostro timore,
Ma il suo fallo portando con se.
_Covo._
I tuoi strali, terror de' mortali,
Ah! sospendi, gran padre de' Numi,
Ah! deponi, gran Nume de' re.
In the Opera of _Demofoonte_ Dircea declares her constancy to Timante:
In te spero, o sposo amato,
Fido a te la sorte mia;
E per te, qualunque sia,
Sempre cara a me sarà.
Pur che a me nel morir mio
Il piacer non sia negato
Di vantar che tua son io,
Il morir mi piacerà.
Creusa contrasts the happiness of primitive ages with the artificiality
of the present:
Felice età dell' oro,
Bella innocenza antica,
Quando al piacer nemica
Non era la virtù!
Dal fasto e dal decoro
Noi ci troviamo oppressi;
E ci formiam noi stessi
La nostra servitù.
In the _Isola Disabitata,_ Costanza deplores her forsaken condition:
Se non piange un' infelice,
Da' viventi separata,
Dallo sposo abbandonata,
Dimmi, oh Dio, chi piangerà?
Chi può dir ch'io pianga a torto,
Se nè men sperar mi lice
Questo misero conforto
D'ottener l' altrui pietà?
In the _Clemenza di Tito,_ Titus declares that if he cannot reign by
love, he will not reign by fear:
Se al impero, amici Dei!
Necessario è un cor severo,
O togliete a me l' impero,
O a me date un altro cor.
Se la fe de' regni miei
Con l' amor non assicuro,
D'una fede io non mi curo
Che sia frutto del timor.
The Chorus declares that it is not to be wondered at that the Gods
protect a Prince as noble as themselves:
Che del Ciel, che degli Dei
Tu il pensier, l'amor tu sei,
Grand' eroe, nel giro angusto
Si mostrò di questo dì.
Ma cagion di meraviglia
Non è già, felice Augusto,
Che gli Dei chi lor somiglia
Custodiscano così.
In the _Temistocle,_ Rossane admits that she is distracted by jealousy:
Basta dir ch' io sono amante,
Per saper che ho già nel petto
Questo barbaro sospetto,
Che avvelena ogni piacer;
Che ha cent' occhi, e pur travede,
Che il mal finge, il ben non crede;
Che dipinge nel sembiante
I deliri del pensier.
Serse declares that silence is more eloquent than words:
Quando parto, e non rispondo,
Si comprendermi pur sai,
Tutto dico il mio pensier.
Il silenzio è ancor facondo,
E talor si spiega assai
Chi risponde col tacer.
Temistocle fears no tortures, and is proud of dying:
Serberò fra ceppi ancora
Questa fronte ognor serena;
E la colpa, e non la pena,
Che può farmi impallidir.
Reo son io; convien ch' io mora,
Se la fede error s'appella;
Ma per colpa così bella
Son superbo di morir.
It is a law of nature that we feel for that sorrow which we have felt
ourselves:
È legge di natura
Che a compatir ci move
Chi prova una sventura
Che noi provammo ancor;
O sia che amore in noi
La somiglianza accenda;
O sia che più s'intenda
Nel suo l'altrui dolor.
A noble prisoner feels himself superior to his cruel oppressor:
Guardami prima in volto,
Anima vile, e poi
Giudica pur di noi
Il vincitor qual è.
Tu libero e disciolto,
Sei di pallor dipinto;
Io di catene avvinto,
Sento pietà di te.
Adoration of Divinity:
Te solo adoro,
Mente infinita,
Fonte di vita,
Di verità;
In cui si move,
Da cui dipende
Quanto comprende
L'eternità.
A faithless friend will never make a faithful lover:
Avran le serpi, O cara,
Con le colombe il nido,
Quando un amico infido
Fido amator sarà.
Nell' anime innocenti,
Varie non son fra loro
Le limpide sorgenti
D'Amore e d'amistà.
If the sorrows of everybody could be known, how few would be envied:
Se a ciascun l'interno affanno
Si vedesse in fronte scritto,
Quanti mai ch' invidia fanno,
Ci farebbero pietà!
Si vedria che i lor nemici
Hanno in seno; e si riduce
Nel parere a noi felici
Ogni lor felicità.
The age of gold still lives in the hearts of the innocent:
Ah! ritorna, età dell'oro,
Alla terra abbandonata,
Se non fosti immaginata
Nel sognar felicità.
Non è ver; quel dolce stato
Non fuggì, non fu sognato;
Ben lo sente ogn' innocente
Nella sua tranquillità.