The Pastor Fido is the principal monument of Guarini's poetic genius.
Despite his pretended carelessness, he was animated by the spirit of
poetry, and emulation spurred him on to surpass the Aminta of Tasso; and
he took pains even to compose whole passages in opposition, and manifest
rivalship, of that drama. A pastoral presents in its very nature a
thousand difficulties. It has for its subject the passions in their
primitive simplicity, and the manners are deprived of all factitious
refinement; and yet the most imaginative thoughts and the softest and
noblest sentiments are to flow from the lips of the untaught shepherds
and shepherdesses. Thus its foundation being purely ideal, our chief
pleasure must be derived from the poetry in which it is clothed. Guarini
endeavoured to overcome the want of interest inherent in this species of
composition, by a plot more complex than that usually adopted. A portion
of this is sufficiently clumsy, and the bad character of the piece, the
coquette Corisca, is managed with very little art or probability. There
is much spirit and beauty, however, in the final developement,--in the
discovery that the priest makes that he is about to sacrifice his own
son, and the joy occasioned by the conviction suddenly flashing on his
mind, that the oracle, on which the whole depends, is happily fulfilled.
Still the chief charm of the Pastor Fido is derived from its poetry; the
simplicity and clearness of its diction, the sweetness and tenderness of
the sentiments, and the vivacity and passion that animate the whole. No
doubt he was satisfied with the result of his labours, and found pride
in communicating it. While affecting to despise his poetic productions,
their genuine merit, and his own vanity, which was great, caused him to
collect with pleasure the applauses which his Pastor Fido naturally
acquired for him. He read it at the court of the duke Ferrante di
Gonzaga, to a society composed of courtiers, ladies, and eminent men.
[Sidenote: 1585.
Ætat.
48.]
It was acted at Turin on occasion of the festivals to celebrate the
nuptials of Charles Emanuel, prince of Savoy, with Catherine, daughter
of Philip II., king of Spain. The drama excited the greatest admiration;
and Guarini was looked on henceforth with justice, as second only to
Tasso among the poets of the age.
But he was not fortunate enough to be allowed to dedicate his whole time
and thoughts to poetry; and he might bring forward his own experience in
proof of his assertion, that private life is not more exempt than
public, from cares and the influence of evil passions. He was
perpetually plunged in lawsuits, his first being against his father, who
had married a second time, it was said out of spite, and disputed his
just inheritance. He had a family of eight children to provide for; and
unrewarded by his prince, he found himself, after struggling for
fourteen years to advance himself at court, overwhelmed by debt and
embarrassment. His time and attention were taken up by exertions to
extricate himself, and to settle his affairs; while his warm, impatient
disposition ill endured the delays and disappointments, and the contact
with selfish or dishonest men, which are the necessary concomitants of
pecuniary difficulties.
[Sidenote: 1586.
Ætat.
49.]
Perhaps these annoyances rendered him less unwilling to accept the
invitation, or rather to obey the commands, of the duke of Ferrara, and
to return to his post at his court. Alfonso, perceiving the esteem in
which he was held by other princes, with his usual selfishness resolved
to appropriate the services of a man, which others also were desirous of
obtaining: he made him secretary of state, and sent him on missions to
Umbria and Milan. His stay, however, was short: very soon after his
children had advanced to manhood, those dissensions occurred between
them and him, which form a painful portion of Guarini's life. It is
difficult to say who was most to blame. The poet's temper was impetuous,
and he perhaps showed himself tyrannical in his domestic circle, at the
same time that his nature was without doubt, on most occasions, generous
and artless. His son had married a lady named Virginia Palmiroli, and
continued, as is so usual in Italy, to reside with his wife under the
paternal roof. But this arrangement became, it is conjectured, from the
pride and imperiousness of the father, quite intolerable; and the young
pair left the house, and instituted a suit at law to obtain such a
provision as would enable them to live in independence. The suit was
decided against Guarini; and his indignation, and assertion that his
defeat was occasioned by the partiality of the duke towards his son,
seem to evince that he had more justice on his side than we are enabled
to discover. However this may be, he was so angry at what he considered
the injustice of the sentence pronounced against him, that he again
requested permission to retire from Alfonso's court. The duke granted
his request, but not without such tokens of displeasure, as induced
Guarini to leave Ferrara privately and in haste. He betook himself to
the court of Savoy, where the prince willingly took him into his
service; but the poet found that the change of masters benefited him
little, and he was so constantly employed, that he had not even time to
write a letter. Alfonso also set on foot some intrigues against him,
disliking that any dependant of his should find protection elsewhere.
[Sidenote: 1590.
Ætat.
53.]
His tranquillity being thus disturbed, he hastily quitted Savoy and took
up his abode at Padua. He here lost his wife, whom he affectionately
names in his letters as the better part of himself; and, by the
separation of his eldest son, and the absence of his daughters, who were
either married or had places in the palaces of various princesses of
Italy, his family circle was reduced to one son of ten years of age,
whom he calls "the hope of his house, and the consolation in his
solitude." This change gave birth to new projects in his restless mind.
"This sudden alteration and transformation of my life," he writes to the
cardinal Gonzaga, in a letter dated from Padua, the 20th of November,
1591, "appears to me to be brought about by the will of God, who thus
calls me to a new vocation. I am not so old nor so weak as to be unfit
to make use of those talents which God has bestowed on me; and it
appears to me that I act ill in spending without profit those years,
which by the course of nature I could turn to the advantage of my
family, and of my young son, whose inclination for the priesthood I am
desirous of assisting; and I would willingly spend the remnant of my
days at Rome, if I could obtain such preferment, as would enable me to
proceed honourably in the advancement of my moderate expectations." This
idea, however, was but the offspring of disappointed hopes, and it
vanished when other prospects were opened to him; yet these were
variable and uncertain. His life, both from the ingratitude of Alfonso
and his own restlessness, was destined to be passed stormily; discontent
and distrust had taken root in his mind, and existence wore a gloomy
aspect.
At length Alfonso died, and this circumstance, and the death of a
daughter, assassinated by a jealous husband, caused him to quit Ferrara,
and to establish himself at Florence, where he was honourably received
by the grand duke Ferdinand. Here doubtless he might have remained in
peace, but for the irascibility of his temper, the indignation he felt
when his views were thwarted, and his tendency to consider himself an
ill-used man. His younger son, whom he mentions in the letter quoted
above with so much interest, was placed at Pisa for the sake of his
education, where he contracted an imprudent marriage with a young,
beautiful, and dowerless widow. Guarini was transported by rage: he
accused the duke of abetting his son in this act of disobedience, and
indulged in implacable anger against the youth himself, to whom he
refused any assistance, when reduced to the most necessitous
circumstances. Guarini exalted the paternal authority, and exacted
filial obedience, in a manner that displayed more pride than affection.
Now in his old age, he was at variance with nearly all his children; his
violent expressions is a proof that he suffered; but his heart did not
relent nor open towards them, even when death snatched them from him;
and it is impossible to sympathise in passions, which thus centred and
ended in himself.
On leaving Florence, he visited Urbino; but, dissatisfied with his
reception, he retired to Ferrara. The citizens deputed him to Rome to
congratulate Paul Usur on his being created pope. It was on this
occasion that cardinal Bellarmino reproached him for having done more
harm to the Christian world by his Pastor Fido, than Luther and Calvin
by their heresies--a singular denunciation--since, though the softness
and tenderness of love, which pervades the poem, may tend to enervate;
yet the fidelity, the devotion, and purity of sentiment, exhibited in
the actions of the chief personages, certainly do not lay it open to
excessive censure. Guarini retorted by a witty reply, which the respect
paid to the cardinal by the historians, has not permitted to be
transmitted to us.
[Sidenote: 1608.
Ætat.
71.]
This was the last public service of Guarini. A few years after he was
invited to be present at the nuptials of Francesco Gonzaga and
Marguerite of Savoy, during which a comedy of his was represented with
great splendour. Chiabrera wrote the interludes, and the architect
Viamini arranged the scenery and decorations.
The last years of his life were taken up by the lawsuits, which so
strangely chequered his career. He hired a lodging at Venice, where many
of his causes were decided, as near as possible to the courts, and
frequently visited that city to attend the proceedings; and he made a
last journey to Rome at the time that two suits were decided in his
favour. On his return to Venice he was seized by a fever, of which he
died, after an illness of seventeen days, on the 7th of October, 1612,
at the age of seventy-five.
[Footnote 34: There is another letter of Guarini, dated from Cracovy,
during his first visit to Poland, written with less personal feeling,
and greater toleration:--"I have viewed the climate and manners of this
country," he writes, "with infinite pleasure; mitigating the annoyances
resulting from unusual things, by the enjoyment of unusual sights. The
country and its inhabitants are certainly much less barbarous than is
generally supposed; and in my opinion there would be no fault to be
found, if the former was gifted with wine, and if the latter abstained
from it. But I am afraid that my words will scarcely find credit with
you, prejudiced as you are by the accounts given by the French who have
been here. Yet I am sure you would agree with me, if you ever visited
the country. The kingdom is extensive, rich, powerful, united, abundant,
and peopled by a brave population. The senators display great talent
during peace--the cavaliers valour in war: their aim is glory--their
support liberty. The form of the government is mixed, like that of
Sparta, but better than that. For the kingdom is neither oppressed by
the tyranny of one, nor the insolence of a few, nor the baseness of the
many; but having mingled the best parts of all three modes of
government, one has resulted, in which the kingly power cannot intrench
upon liberty, nor licence endanger the monarchy. The nobles cannot
oppress the people, nor the people injure the nobles. Valour holds the
first rank, nobility the second, riches the third; and every one,
however lowly born, may nourish the expectation of rising by merit to
the highest honours. How I wish that you had an opportunity of visiting
it: I am certain that you would be highly pleased. A journey to France
is more fatiguing; and after arriving in Poland, I, to whom an excursion
to Rome used to appeal an arduous undertaking, begin to think that
travelling is a natural state for every man."]
[Footnote 35: Abate Serassi, Vita di Tasso.]
[Footnote 36: Come poi per veder Argo e Micene
Lasciassi Elide e Pisa, e quivi fussi
Adorator di deità terrena,
Con tutto quel che in servitù soffersi,
Troppo nojosa istoria a te l' udirlo,
A me dolente il raccontarlo fora.
Si dirò sol, che perdei l' opra, e il frutto.
Scrissi, piansi, cantai, arsi, gelai,
Corsi, stetti, sostenni, or tristo, or lieto,
Or alto, or basso; or vilipeso, or caro.
E come il ferro Delfico; stromento
Or d'impresa sublime, or d' opra vile,
Non temei risco e non schivai fatica:
Tutto fei, nulla fui: per cangiar loco,
Stato, vita, pensier, costumi e pelo,
Mai non cangiai fortuna: alfin conobbi,
E sospirai la libertà primiera.
E dopo tanti strazi, Argo lasciando
E le grandezze di miseria piene,
Tornai di Pisa ai riposati alberghi.
* * * * *
Ma chi creduto avria di venir meno
Tra le grandezze, e impoverir nell' oro?
Io mi pensai che ne' reali alberghi
Fossero tanto più le genti umane,
Quant' esse han più di tutto quel dovizia
Ond' ha l' umanità si nobil fregio.
Ma vi trovai tutto il contrario, Uranio,
Gente di nome e di parlar cortese,
Ma d'opre scarsa e di pietà nemica:
Gente placida in vista e mansueta,
Ma più del cupo mar tumida e fera;
Gente sol d' apparenza, in cui se miri
Viso di carità, mente d'invidia
Poi trovi, e in dritto sguardo animo bieco,
E min or fede allor, che più lusinga.
Quel ch' altrove è virtù, quivi è difetto.
Dir vero, oprar non torto, amar non finto,
Pietà sincera, inviolabil fede,
E di core e di man vita innocente;
Stiman d' animo vii, di basso ingegno
Sciocchezza e vanità degna di riso.
L'ingannare, il mentir, la frode, il furto
E la rapina, di pietà vestita,
Cescer col danno e precipizio altrui,
E far a sè, dell' altrui biasmo onore,
Son le virtù di quella gente infida:
Non merto altrui, non valor, non riverenza,
Nè d' età, nè di grado, nè di legge,
Non freno di vergogna, non rispetto
Nè d' amor nè di sangue, non memoria
Di ricevuto ben, nè finalmente,
Cosa si venerabile, o si santa
O si giusta esser può, che a quella vasta
Cupidigia d' onori, a quella ingorda
Fame d' avere, inviolabil sia.
Or io, che incauto e di lor arti ignaro
Sempre mi vissi, e portai scritto in fronte
Il mio pensiero, e disvelato il core,
Tu puoi pensar se a non sospetti strali
D'invida gente fui scoperto segno.
_Pastor Fido_, atto V. scena 1.]