1552-1637.
Gabbriello Chiabrera was born at Savona, a town on the sea-shore, not
far from Genoa, on the 8th of June, 1552. He was born fifteen days after
his father's death, and his mother, Gironima Murasana, being young when
she was left a widow, married again; which circumstance caused Chiabrera
to be brought up by an uncle and aunt, brother and sister to his father,
who were both unmarried. At the age of nine, his uncle, who resided at
Rome, took him thither, and gave him a private tutor, who taught him
Latin. He was twice during childhood assailed by dangerous fevers, which
left him so weak and spiritless, that his uncle placed him at the
Jesuits' college, that he might regain vigour and hilarity in the
company of boys of his own age. The experiment succeeded, and Chiabrera
became robust and healthy to the end of his long life. During his
juvenile years, his application, memory, and studious habits attracted
the applause of his instructors; and the Jesuits were desirous of
inducing him to become one of them. The youth showed no disinclination;
but his uncle watched over him, and prevented that sacrifice of liberty
and independence, which would have rendered him miserable through life.
When he was twenty this good uncle died; but he had emancipated himself
from monkish influence, and after paying his relations at Savona a short
visit, he returned again to Rome, where coming accidentally into contact
with the cardinal Comaro Camerlingo, he entered his service, in which he
remained some years.
His residence at Rome, however, came to a disastrous termination: he was
insulted by a Roman gentleman, and being forced by the laws of honour to
avenge himself, the consequences obliged him to quit the city; nor was
he permitted to return till eight years after. He now took up his abode
in his native town, and grew to love the leisure and independence of his
life. At one time his tranquillity was disturbed by another quarrel, in
which he was wounded; but with his own hand, as he tells us, took his
revenge. He was forced, on this, to absent himself from Savona; and
remained, as it were, outlawed for several months, when at last a
reconciliation being brought about, he returned and enjoyed many years
of complete tranquillity.
Chiabrera had been born rich, but he was negligent of his affairs, so
that at last his fortune was reduced to a mere competence; and this was
at one time even endangered by a lawsuit at Rome, all his property there
being confiscated; but it was returned to him, through the intervention
of cardinal Aldobrandini. At the age of fifty he married, but had no
children. With the few interruptions above recorded, he passed a life of
peaceful leisure, content with his fortunes, honoured and esteemed by
every body, and rendered happy by the exercise of his talents and
imagination. While at Rome in his early life, he had cultivated the
friendship of literary men; and during his leisure, on his return to
Savona, he occupied himself by reading poetry as a recreation. His own
genius developed itself as he studied the productions of others. The
Greek poets particularly delighted him; and perceiving how much they
excelled all other writers, he made them his study, till, his emulation
being awakened, he wrote some odes in imitation of Pindar: these being
much admired, he was encouraged to continue, still making the Greek
lyrical poets his models, though he did not confine his admiration to
them only. Homer he preferred to all other writers; he was charmed by
the versification and imagery of Virgil; and appreciated in Dante and
Ariosto, the power which they possessed of felicitously describing and
representing the objects which they desire to bring before their
readers.[42]
Chiabrera had the ambition of forming a new style; as he expressed it,
he meant to follow the example of his countryman, Columbus, and to find
a new world, or be wrecked in the attempt. His wish was, to transfuse
the spirit of the Greeks into the Italian language. He perceived that
the fault common to the poets of his day, was a certain cowardice of
style, and an obedience to arbitrary laws, which limited and chilled the
poetic fervour. He shook off these trammels, and adopted every possible
mode of versification, and even bent the dialect of Petrarch and Tasso
to new and unknown forms of expression. He was no lover of rhyme,
preferring to it a majestic harmony in the arrangement of syllables and
sound, which he found more musical and expressive than the mere jingle
of a concluding word. His style thus became at once novel and exalted.
He adorned his verses with pompous epithets and majestic turns of
expression: he was harmonious and dignified, fervent and spirited.[43]
As he dedicated nearly the whole of his long life to the composition of
poetry, he has left a vast quantity, much of which has never been
printed,--narrative poems, dramas, odes, canzoni[44], sonnets, &c.; but
his canzoni, or lyrics, far excel all the rest. This results from his
style being at once more original and beautiful than his ideas. We are
apt to say, as we read, we have seen this before, but never so well
expressed. He does not, like Petrarch, anatomise his own feelings, and
spend his heart in grief: even in his love poetry, while he complains,
he does not lament, and there is a sort of laughing and vivacious grace
and a liquid softness diffused over these poems in particular, which is
infinitely charming. One of his most celebrated, beginning--
"Belle rose porporine,"
is in praise of his lady's smile. It is impossible for any thing to be
more airy and yet heartfelt--he speaks of how the earth is said to
laugh, when, at the morning hour, a rivulet or a breeze wanders
murmuring amid the grass, or a meadow adorns itself with flowers;--how
the sea laughs, when a light zephyr dips its airy feet in the clear
waters, so that the waves scarcely play upon the sands;--and how the
heavens smile when morning comes forth, amidst roseate and white
flowers, adorned in a golden veil, and moving along on sapphire wheels.
"When the earth is happy," he says, "she laughs; and the heavens laugh
when they are gay: but neither can smile so sweetly and gracefully as
you." The flowing measure, the admirable selection and position of the
words render this and other similar poems models of lyrical composition.
A fairy-like colouring, and a thrilling sweetness, like the scent of
flowers, invest them, and render them peculiar in their aerial vivacity
and spirited flow.
These lighter and more animated productions have not been translated;
but, as a specimen of his more serious style, we select one of the
epitaphs or elegiac poems among those which Mr. Wordsworth has
translated, with his usual accuracy and force of diction:--
There never breathed a man who, when his life
Was closing, might hot of that life relate
Toils long and hard. The warrior will report
Of wounds, and bright swords flashing in the field,
And blast of trumpets. He, who hath been doom'd
To bow his forehead in the court of kings,
Will tell of fraud and never-ceasing hate,
Envy, and heart-inquietude, derived
From intricate cabals of treacherous friends.
I, who on shipboard lived from earliest youth,
Could represent the countenance horrible
Of the vexed waters, and the indignant rage
Of Auster and Boötes. Forty years
Over the well-steer'd galleys did I rule:
From huge Pelorus to the Atlantic pillars,
Rises no mountain to mine eyes unknown;
And the broad gulphs I traversed oft and oft;
Of every cloud which in the heavens might stir
I knew the force; and hence the rough sea's pride
Avail'd not to my vessel's overthrow.
What noble pomp, and frequent, have not I
On regal decks beheld! Yet in the end
I learn that one poor moment can suffice
To equalise the lofty and the low.
We sail the sea of life--a _calm_ one finds,
And one a _tempest_--and, the voyage o'er,
Death is the quiet haven of us all.[45]
The tranquil life of Chiabrera was agreeably varied by his love, not
exactly of travelling, but of visiting the various cities of Italy, and
by the honours paid him by its princes, in recompence for his poetry,
which was enthusiastically admired by all his countrymen. He never made
any long stay away from home, except at Genoa and Florence, and there he
possessed friends who were glad to welcome him; for if he was of an
irascible, he was of a placable disposition, and though serious of
aspect, he was gay and good-humoured in society. The grand duke of
Tuscany, Ferdinand I., held him in high esteem, and employed him in
arranging various dramatic representations on the marriage of Mary de'
Medici with the king of France. Charles Emanuel, duke of Savoy, made him
generous offers of remuneration, if he would take up his abode at his
court; but Chiabrera wisely preferred his independence. It has been
mentioned that he arranged the interludes of a comedy of Guarini, when
it was represented on occasion of the marriage of the son of the duke of
Mantua with a princess of Savoy. All these princes rewarded him with
gifts, or honours, which he seems to have set a still higher value upon;
lodging him in their palaces, sending their carriages for his
conveyance, and permitting him to remain covered in their presence. He
had been the intimate friend of cardinal Barberini, and when the latter
was created pope, under the name of Urban VIII., Chiabrera often visited
Rome, though he would never reside there; and the pope made him priestly
gifts of _agnus dei_ and medallions, and in the year of the jubilee
wrote him a brief, or letter of compliment, similar to those sent to
sovereign princes and men of the highest rank.
Chiabrera was always an orthodox catholic, "a sinner," he expresses it,
"but not without Christian devotion. He had Santa Lucia for his
advocate, and during a space of sixty years, he never failed twice a day
to devote himself to pious thoughts, which continued uppermost in his
mind all his life." His moderate desires and temperate habits assisted
to preserve him in uninterrupted good health. He died at the advanced
age of eighty-six, and was buried in his own chapel in the church of San
Giacomo.
[Footnote 42: Vita di se stesso.]
[Footnote 43: Muratori.]
[Footnote 44: There is no English word that gives the exact idea of a
canzone; we call such lyrical poems; yet in Italian they form a class
apart.]
[Footnote 45: _Per il Signor Giambattista Feo._
Uomo non è, che pervenuto a morte
Non possa raccontar della sua vita
Lunghi travagli. Il cavalier di Marte
Dirà le piaghe, e lo splendor de' brandi,
Ed il suon delle trombe: il condannato,
Nelle gran Reggie, ad inchinar la fronte,
De' Re scettrati, narrerà le frodi,
Le lunghe invidie, ed i sofferti affanni
Infra le schiere de' bugiardi amici.
Io, che mi vissi in su spalmate prore,
Potrei rappresentar l' orribil faccia
Del mar irato, ed i rabbiosi sdegni
E d'Austro e di Boöte. Anni cinquanta
Commandai su galere a buon nocchieri:
Dal gran Peloro all' Atlantei colonne
Non sorge monte a gli occhi miei non noto,
E gli ampj golfi veleggiai più volte:
D' ogni nube, che in ciel fosse raccolta,
Seppi la forza, onde marino orgoglio
A' legni miei non valse fare oltraggio.
Che nobil pompa non mirai sovente
Su regie poppe? E pure io provo al fine,
Che le disuguaglianze un' ora adegua.
Tutti quaggiuso navighiamo in forse.
Altri ha tempesta, ed altri ha calma, e poscia
Nel porto della Morte ognun dà fondo.]