Chapter VIII: Part 8

[Footnote 78: "Cerchi chi vuol, le pompe, e gli alti honori. Le piazze, e tempii, e gli edeficii magni, Le delicie, il tesor, qual accompagni Mille duri pensier, mille dolori: Un verde praticel pien di bei fiori, Un rivolo, che l'herba intorno bagni, Un angeletto che d' amor si lagni, Acqueta molto meglio i nostri ardori: L' ombrare selve, i sassi, e gli alti monti Gli antri oscuri, e le fere fuggitive, Qualche leggiadra ninfa paurosa; Quivi veggo io con pensier vaghi e pronti Le belle luci, come fossin vivi. Qui me le toglie or' una, or' altra cosa."]

[Footnote 79: Tiraboschi.]

[Footnote 80: Tiraboschi.]

[Footnote 81: Afterwards Leo X.]

[Footnote 82: Roscoe's Life of Lorenzo de' Medici, Appendix, p. 60.]

[Footnote 83: Tiraboschi.]

[Footnote 84: We subjoin the whole of the original. The above verses are from the translation of Mr. Roscoe:--

"Quis dabit capiti meo Aquam? quis oculis meis Fontem lachrymarum dabit? Ut nocte fleam, Ut luce fleam. Sic turtur viduus solet, Sic cygnus moriens solet; Sic luscinia conqueri. Heu, miser, miser! O, dolor, dolor!

"Laurus impetu fulminis Illa, illa jacet subito; Laurus omnium celebris, Musarum choris, Nympharum choris, Sub cujus patula coma. Et Phœbi lyra blandius Et vox dulcius insonat. Nunc muta omnia! Nunc surda omnia!

"Quis dabit capiti meo Aquam? quis oculis meis Fontem lachrymarum dabit? Ut nocte fleam, Ut luce fleam. Sic turtur viduus solet, Sic cygnus moriens solet, Sic luscinia conqueri. Heu, miser, miser! O, dolor, dolor!"]

[Footnote 85: Tiraboschi.]

[Footnote 86: "In principio era il Verbo appresso a Dio; Ed era Iddio il Verbo, e 'l Verbo lui: Questo era nel principio, al parer mio; E nulla si può far sanza costui: Però, giusto Signor benigno e pio, Mandami rolo un de gli angeli tui, Che m' accompagni, e rechimi a memoria Una famosa antica e degna storia.

"E tu Vergine, figlia, e madre, e sposa Di quel Signor, che ti dette le chiave Del cielo e dell' abisso e d' ogni cosa, Quel dì che Gabriel tuo ti disse Ave! Perchè tu se' de' tuo' servi pietosa, Con dolce rime, e stil grato e soave, Ajuta i versi miei benignamente, E'nfino al fine allumina la mente."

_Morgante Mag._ canto I.]

[Footnote 87: "Dodici paladini aveva in corte Carlo; e'l più savio e famoso era Orlando: Gan traditor lo condusse a la morte In Roncisvalle un trattato ordinando; Là dove il corno sonò tanto forte Dopo la dolorosa rotta, quando Ne la sua commedia Darte qui dice, E mettelo con Carlo in ciel felice."

--_Id. ibid._]

[Footnote 88: "Uno spirto chiamato è Astarotte, Molto savio, terribil, molto fero, Questo si sta giù nel' infernal grotte; Non è spirito foletto, egli è più nero."

_Morg. Mag._ XXV. 119.]

[Footnote 89: Panizzi, Romantic Poetry of the Italians, p. 216.]

[Footnote 90: "Il fremito de' venti e'l suon dell' onde Ch' io sento adesso in questo nostro mare, Han cosi indebolite ambo le sponde Del legno mio, eh' io ploro il navigare; Dall' altro canto povertà m'infonde Tanta necessità, che' l non mi pare Di poter mai acquistar laude alcuna, S'io non supero i venti e la fortuna."

_Marb._, XXVIII. 1. _as quoted by Dr. Panizzi._]

BOJARDO

Matteo Maria Bojardo was of an ancient and noble family. His ancestors had been counts of Rubiera, a castle between Reggio and Modena, till, in 1433, Feltrino Bojardo, then the head of the family, exchanged it for Scandiano, a small castle about seven miles from Reggio, at the foot of the Apennines, and celebrated for its excellent wine. The sovereign house of Este added to the possessions of the family, and Bojardo was count of Scandiano, and lord of Aceto, Casalgrande, Gesso, La Toricella, &c.

It appears that the poet was born in the castle of Scandiano, about the year 1434, or a little before. His father was Giovanni, son of Feltrino; and his mother, Lucia, was sprung of a branch of the famous Strozzi family, original in Florence. Two of his near relatives, on the mother's side, were elegant Latin poets. The general outline merely of Bojardo's life is known there, and such delicate tints as we may catch from his lyrical poetry. He received a liberal education, and was conversant in the Greek and Latin languages. He was a vassal of the Este family, and lived at the court of Borso the first duke of Ferrara, and afterwards of his successor Ercole, to whom, indeed, he attached himself during the life of Borso, when it was very uncertain whether he would succeed to the duchy. The services he performed for this family are nearly the sole events we collect of his life. [Sidenote: 1469. Ætat. 35.] When the emperor Frederic III. visited Italy, Bojardo was one of the noblemen sent out to meet and welcome him on his way to Ferrara, where he was entertained with extraordinary magnificence. [Sidenote: 1471. Ætat. 37.] Borso at this time was only marquis of Ferrara (though duke of Modena and Reggio), but the pope, Paul II., soon after created him duke of that city, and Bojardo accompanied him to Rome, when he went thither to receive the investiture.

[Sidenote: 1472. Ætat. 38.]

Soon after, the poet married Taddea, daughter of the count of Novellara, of the noble house of Gonzaga. [Sidenote: 1473. Ætat. 39.] He continued to enjoy the kindness and friendship of duke Ercole, who selected him with other nobles to escort to Ferrara his bride Eleonora, daughter of the king of Naples. [Sidenote: 1478. Ætat. 44.] He was named by him also governor of Reggio; which place he enjoyed, except during the short interval when he was governor of Modena, till the period of his death, which occurred at Reggio on the 20th of December 1494, at the age of sixty. He was buried in the church of Scandiano. [Sidenote: 1481. Ætat. 47.] Some traces remain to mark his character. [Sidenote: 1486. Ætat. 52.] He was so mild a governor as to excite indignation of a learned civilian, Panciroli, who, speaking of him as a magistrate, reproves him as a man great benignity,--"better fitted to write verses than punish crimes." [Sidenote: 1487. Ætat. 53.] A contemporary Latin poet says, "that he was not severe to the errors of love, but kindly gave to others what he desired himself. He sat, indeed, on the seat of justice, and gave forth laws with a grave brow; but his countenance was not always severe; day and night he sang the triumphs of love, and while others studied the laws, he applied himself to tender poetry."

His lyrical poetry is extremely beautiful, tender, and spirited, being characterised by that easy flow of thought and style peculiar to him. Since the days of Petrarch, it is the fashion to affix one lady's name as the object of a poet's verses. But, unfortunately, men, whether poets or not, are apt to change. There are traces of Bojardo's being attached to at least two ladies: and he married a third. The most passionate of his verses were written from Rome in 1471, and were addressed to Antonia Caprara, a beautiful girl of eighteen, who, whether married or not, shared his affection. Perhaps this lady died; but we do not appear to have any verses to his wife, whom he married in 1472.

He was a good classical scholar, and translated the "Golden Ass" of Apuleius, the history of Herodotus, Halicarnassus, and the "Golden Ass" of Lucian. He translated, altered, and enlarged the Pomarium of Ricobaldi, to which, in its new form, he gave the name of the "Imperial History." It is a sort of chronicle, full of romantic stories, founded on history and tradition, to which, perhaps, credence was lent at that time. He wrote also a drama called Timon, founded upon Lucian, which was among the first specimens of Italian dramas, but it does not appear to have great merit. He was the author also of Latin eclogues, the language of which is elegant and spirited.

His great work, however, is the "Orlando Innamorato," or "Loves of Orlando," founded on the old romances. His disposition naturally inclined him to revel in romance, so that it is said that he used, at Scandiano, to visit the old villagers, and draw from them their traditionary tales, rewarding them so well for the gratification he received, that it became a sort of proverb or exclamation of good-will at that place--"God send Bojardo to your house!" His "Imperial History," probably gave direction to his invention, which was prolific. He took Orlando as his hero; but deeming him uninteresting unless in love, he called into life the beautiful Angelica, whose coquetry, loveliness, and misfortunes, made sad havoc in Charlemagne's court. Mr. George Rose's prose translation of the "Orlando Innamorato" gives a spirited abstract of the story, which must here be more briefly detailed.

Charlemagne, in the midst of prosperity and glory, held a court at Paris, at which 22,030 guests were assembled. Before these the beautiful Angelica presents herself, with her brother Argalia, and four giants as attendants. Her brother defies the knights to combat. Argalia possessed an enchanted lance, which throws whoever it touches; and Angelica a ring, which, on certain occasions, renders the wearer invisible. Every one fell in love with Angelica, and in particular Orlando and Rinaldo. Angelica becomes frightened in the midst of the disturbances of the combats, and disappearing by means of the ring, flies from the scene of the tournament. She takes refuge in the wood of Ardennes: arriving fatigued and heated, she drinks hastily of an enchanted fountain, which causes her to fall in love with the first man she may chance to see; and then reposing on the flower-enamelled turf, falls asleep. Orlando and Rinaldo pursue her, as does also her brother Argalia; and Ferrau goes after him, being at the moment of his flight engaged in combat with him. Orlando and Rinaldo arrive at Ardennes; but the latter, on entering the forest, and refreshing himself at a fountain, drinks of water enchanted by Merlin, which causes him to hate the first woman he shall behold: he then also lies down, and goes to sleep. Angelica wakes; she rises, wanders from her place of rest, and comes to the spot where Rinaldo is reposing. Her love-blinded eyes behold him, and, transported by sudden and subduing passion, she watches his waking with fondness. He opens his eyes, and holds in abhorrence the beauty who is gazing upon him, and flies from her in disdain. Argalia meanwhile arrives in the wood, pursued by Ferrau; he has lost his enchanted lance; the enemies meet, and continue the combat. Argalia is slain: while breathing his last, he implores his enemy to cast him and his armour into the river, that no trace may remain, of his disgrace. Ferrau agrees, but solicits the loan of his helmet, he himself being without one, till he can get another: Argalia consents, and dies; while Ferrau, who is a Saracen, hearing of the misfortunes of his sovereign Marsiglio, who is attacked by Gradasso, king of Sericana, gives up the pursuit of Angelica, and sets out for Spain. Angelica returns to India, and Orlando departs in quest of her.

Charlemagne goes to the assistance of Marsiglio against Gradasso, who himself is a wonder of martial prowess, and is attended by an innumerable army, and several vast and fierce giants. Rinaldo has returned to court, and accompanies his imperial master: during the battle that ensues, he encounters Gradasso; but their single combat is interrupted by the hurry of the fight, and they agree to meet in duel the next day on foot, in a solitary place by the sea-side. Gradasso's great object is to win Orlando's sword Durindana, and Rinaldo's horse Bajardo: the latter is to be his prize, if he overcomes Rinaldo on the following day.

Angelica meanwhile, burning with love for Rinaldo, revolves many schemes for bringing him to her side. She has in her power his cousin Malagigi (Maugis), who is a great enchanter. She set him at liberty, on condition that he shall bring Rinaldo to her. Malagigi first tries to persuade his cousin; but the chilly waters have wrought too powerfully, and the very name of Angelica is odious to him. Malagigi has recourse to stratagem. When Rinaldo keeps his appointment the next morning with Gradasso, he finds the sea-shore solitary: a little boat, tenantless, is anchored near the beach. Malagigi sends a fiend, in the shape of Gradasso, who, after a mock combat, take refuge in the pinnace, followed by Rinaldo. The boat drifts out to sea, the fiend vanishes, and Rinaldo is hurried away across the ocean, till he arrives near a palace and garden, where the vessel lightly drifts on shore.

Orlando wanders about to find Angelica, and hears that she is at Albracca, a castle of Catay. But he is unable to reach her, detained by a variety of adventures and enchantments, through which he is at last deprived of all memory or knowledge, and brought to a magnificent palace, where he is left. Charlemagne meanwhile is freed from Gradasso by means of Argalia's enchanted lance, which, falling into Astolfo's possession, he works miracles, unhorses the mighty king, and a peace being agreed upon, he sets out in search of Orlando and Rinaldo. Poor Rinaldo is tempted meanwhile to soften towards Angelica, but in vain. The luxuries of an enchanted palace are wasted on him, and he is exposed to the most frightful dangers, from which Angelica delivers him; but still he scorns and leaves her, while she returns disconsolate to Albracca.

Her hand is sought by various princes and nobles; and in particular by Agricane, king of Tartary: she refuses them all; and Agricane, resolved to win her, besieges her in Albracca. She is defended by various of the Paladins, and goes herself with her ring in quest of Orlando, whom she restores to his senses. He gladly hastens to her assistance; he kills Agricane in a single contest, and in reward, as she wishes to get rid of him, Angelica sends him on a distant and perilous expedition.

The poem then enters on a new series of adventures, arising from the revenge which Agramante wishes to take on Orlando for having slain his father, king Trojano, sixteen years before. We are now introduced to several new heroes of romance, destined to play a distinguished part in the poem of Ariosto, as well as in the present one. There is Ruggeri, whose name is adopted from the Norman knight Ruggeri, who had been king of Sicily; and there is Rodomonte, the bravest, fiercest, and wildest of all warriors. Ruggeri's presence is absolutely needed for the success of Agramante's expedition; but he is imprisoned in a castle, whence he can only be delivered by Angelica's magic ring. A thievish dwarf, named Brunello, contrives to steal it from her, and Ruggeri is liberated. The expedition embarks for France, where Rodomonte, impatient of delays, had already arrived, and devastates Provence; while Marsiglio is induced, by the old traitor Gano, to invade France from the Pyrenees.

Orlando, returning from his adventure, finds Angelica besieged by Marfisa, and in great peril. He mentions, that Rinaldo is in France: the name has not lost its influence. She resolves to abandon Albracca; and, having lost her ring, is glad to be protected by Orlando, who conducts her in safety to France; and who, during the long journey, never mentions his passion, nor annoys her with any manifestation of it; though she, by her former coquetry, might well expect importunity: but his generous and fond heart renders him silent, that he may not disturb her lovely, serene countenance;

"Per non turbare quel bel viso sereno."

Poor Angelica feels not less for Rinaldo; but, arriving at Ardennes, she is delivered from her misery, by drinking of the fountain, that turns all her love to hate; while Rinaldo, also arriving, drinks of the love-in-spiring waters, and with great joy seeing the lady, wonders at his past dislike, and congratulates himself now on her passion. He addresses her with tenderness; but is repulsed with scorn, while her champion Orlando is at hand to defend her. He challenges his cousin, and they fight; but Charlemagne, hearing of their arrival in his kingdom, seizes on the lady, and forces the knights to be reconciled, privately promising to both Angelica as a prize, if they will exert themselves during the impending battle with Agramante. The poem now relates the invasion of Agramante, of Mandricardo, son of the slain Agricane, of Gradasso, and Marsiglio. A great battle takes place, in which the Saracens are triumphant, Orlando being absent. Rinaldo goes in pursuit of his horse Bajardo; while his sister Bradamante, a brave heroine, falls in love with Ruggeri, and withdraws from the field. Charlemagne retires to Paris, and is besieged by the whole body of Saracens. The poem ends with the commencement of a sort of episode, in which Fiordespina, mistaking the sex of Bradamante, falls in love with her. In the middle of this, the poet is interrupted. The sound of arms, which betokens the invasion of the French, and the terror and misery of Italy, call him from his task of fiction, to be the witness of real woes. He promises, if the stars will permit, to continue his narration another time. This time never came, for the French invaded Italy in 1494; and it was in about the same year that Bojardo died.

This is but a brief abstract of a poem interspersed with numerous episodes, beautiful descriptions, and interesting reverses. The poet never flags. An untired spirit animates every stanza, every verse: the life, the energy, the variety, the fertility of invention, are truly surprising, and far transcend Ariosto. But minuter criticism is deferred, till an account is given of Berni and his rifacimento.

BERNI

Francesco Berni was born at Lamporecchio, in the Val di Nievole, towards the end of the fifteenth century. The first eighteen years of his life were spent at Florence; whence he transferred himself to Rome, and entered on the service of his relation, the cardinal Bibbiena. On the death of the cardinal, he attached himself to the nephew, Angelo Divizio Bibbiena. He was at one time obliged to leave Rome, on account of some adventure of gallantry[91]; and afterwards entered the service of Giberti, the papal Datario, with whom he remained seven years, accompanying him whenever Giberti's duties as a bishop took him to Verona. But Berni was a poet, and fond of pleasure, and fortune could not obtain from him the industry which might have advanced him with his patrons. His vivacity and his poetry were agreeable in society; he became courted as a literary man; and he was a distinguished member of the academy of the Vignaiuoli, or vine-dressers, composed of the first men in Rome. This learned association was established by a Mantuan gentleman, Oberto Strozzi. The members assumed names adopted from the vineyard; and its feasts became famous all over Italy. Berni was at Rome when it was plundered by the Colonna party in 1526, and was robbed of every thing: at the same time he was struck with horror at the cruelties committed by the invaders. He mentions them with horror in the "Orlando Innamorato." When describing the sacking of a town, he says, that his unhappy eyes saw similar outrages perpetrated in Rome. He quitted the service of the Datario after this, and retired to Florence, where he lived tranquilly, being possessed of a canonicate, which had before been given him in the cathedral of that city, and enjoying the protection of cardinal Ippolito de' Medici, and of the duke Alexander. There is a story of his being solicited by each of these princes to poison the other, which is not supported by dates or facts. Alexander was afterwards murdered by Lorenzino de' Medici. The cardinal Ippolito had died before: Alexander was accused of having poisoned him; but accusations of this sort were so frequent at that time, that, according to historians and the popular voice, no man of any eminence ever died a natural death. Berni is said to have died on the 26th of July, 1536.

Berni possessed, to an extraordinary degree, a liveliness of imagination, and a facetiousness, which caused him to invent a new style of poetry, light, witty, but highly fanciful, which became the delight of his contemporaries. Mr. Stebbing speaks with great disapprobation of him, saying, "that we shall not be guilty of much injustice, if we regard him as one of those ecclesiastical Epicureans of the sixteenth century, whose infidelity and licentiousness branded them with infamy." His minor poems are witty, but indecent: they appear to be written, says Tiraboschi, with ease and rapidity, yet the original manuscripts show that he blotted and corrected them with care. He wrote also Latin elegies; and came nearer to Catullus, the critics tell us, than any other poet of the age.

The work by which he is known to us, is the Rifacimento of Bojardo's "Orlando Innamorato," which was not published till after his death. He occupied himself with this poem at Verona, while in the service of the Datario. He addresses the Po in one of the cantos of the poem, begging of it to restrain its rapid course while he writes beside its banks; and yet at this very time his letters are full of complaints of the occupations that take up all his time.

It is a curious subject to enquire, what the fault was in Bojardo's poem, that rendered it necessary that it should be re-written. Berni was not the first to discover this, as Domenichi had already altered the style of every stanza; yet his rifacimento had not caused it to be popular. Meanwhile Ariosto wrote a continuation to it, which he named the "Orlando Furioso" and that became the delight and glory of Italy. The choice of subject in these poets is admirable. When Milton thought of making king Arthur and his knights the heroes of a poem, he selected a subject which was devoid of any quick interest to his countrymen: wars with France and civil struggles had caused the British name to be forgotten. But the Mahometans were still the terror of Italy. After the taking of Constantinople, they pressed near upon the peninsula; Venice was kept in check, and at one time Ancona was actually taken by them. Every Italian heart felt triumph in the overthrow of a Pagan and Saracen, and warmed with interest when it was related how they were driven from France. Bojardo made choice of the subject, and he added life to it, by the introduction of Angelica. His invention, his poetic fervour, his ceaseless flow of fancy, were admirable; yet he was forgotten. Many of Ariosto's episodes are more tedious, and they are less artificially introduced; but Ariosto was a greater poet: his style is perfectly beautiful, and his higher flights entitle him to a very high rank among the writers of verse. Perhaps, in the whole range of narrative poetry, there is no passage to compete with the progress of Orlando's madness.

Berni evidently appreciated Ariosto's merits, and he saw in Bojardo's a groundwork that emulated them. His faults are doubtless greater than we can judge, since style alone occasioned his want of popularity: he has many Lombardisms; and I heard a learned Tuscan say, that nothing to their refined ear was so intolerable as the pronunciation of the north. Style, however, was his only fault; and Berni, in altering that, brought at once to light the beauty of the poem: he changed no incident, no sentiment, scarcely a thought; stanza by stanza he remodelled the expression, and this was all; yet it would almost seem that he thus communicated a Promethean spark. Nothing can be more false than the accusation, that he added any thing licentious to the poem. Tiraboschi even gives credit to this idea; but, on the contrary, his expressions are always more reserved than those of the original. The comparison may easily be made, by collating, in the two authors, the passages which describe the meeting of Bradamante and Fiordelisa, the welcome given by Angelica to Orlando when he arrives at Albracca, and the journey of these two from Albracca to Provence; and the above assertion will at once be proved; nor is it true that Berni turned a serious poem into a burlesque. He added lightness and gaiety, but seldom any ridicule. It is now easy, since Dr. Panizzi's edition of the original poem, to compare it with the rifacimento: an Italian alone can be a competent judge; but it is easy for any one to see the difference between the earnest language of Bojardo, and the graceful wit of his improver. We will give, as a specimen of the usual style of his alterations, two stanzas, selected by chance in the poem: they describe the death of Agricane. Bojardo writes thus, speaking of Orlando, when his adversary, having received a mortal wound, asks him to baptize him[92]:--

"He had his face covered with tears, and he dismounted on the ground: he took the wounded king in his arms, and placed him on the marble of the fountain: he was never weary of weeping with him, entreating for pardon with a gentle voice. Then he baptized him with water from the fountain, praying God for him with joined hands. He remained but a short time, finding his face and whole person cold, whence he perceived that he was no more. He leaves him on the marble of the fountain, all armed as he was, with his sword in his hand, and his crown, and then he turned towards the horse, and thought that he recognised Bajardo."

Thus alters Berni[93]:--

"Having his face covered with tears, the count dismounts from Brigliadoro: he took the wounded king in his arms, and placed him on the brink of the fountain, entreating, while he kisses and embraces him, that all past injuries might be forgotten. Not able to say yes, the king inclines his head, and Orlando baptized him with water; and, at last, he found his face and whole person cold, whence he judged that he was no more; wherefore he left him on the verge of the fountain, all armed as he was, with sword in hand, and with his crown: then, turning his look upon his horse, it seemed to him that he recognised Bajardo."

This, of course, is a very clumsy mode of showing the difference; and yet it gives the mere English reader an idea of the extent of Berni's alterations.

But, although he did not materially change either event or thought, he added to the poem; and the real merits of Berni became very evident in the introductory stanzas which he appended to each canto. It seems to me that these have never been sufficiently appreciated: they are not jocose nor burlesque; they are beautiful apostrophes, or observations upon the heart and fortunes of human beings, embodied in poetic language and imagery. Many of them are to be preferred to those of Ariosto, whom he imitated in these additions. We have noticed his address to the Po, which is singularly beautiful; another well known interpolation is the introduction of a description of himself: this, it is true, is burlesque; but the style of irony is exquisite, and, surely, may be allowed, as it is directed against his own faults and person. Mr. Rose has translated this passage, and published it in his prose abstract of the "Innamorato." Dr. Panizzi has quoted it also in his work. He gives an account of his life; of his birth at Lamporecchio; of the "piteous plight" in which he sojourned at Florence till the age of nineteen; and his journey to Rome, when he attached himself to his kinsman, the cardinal Bibbiena, who neither did him harm nor good and, on his death, how he passed to the nephew,--

"Who the same measure as his uncle meted;"

and then "in search of better bread," how he became secretary to the Datario. Yet, he could not please his new patron; although

"The worse he did, the more he had to do."

Then he describes his own disposition and person:--

"His mood was choleric, and his tongue was vicious, But he was praised for singleness of heart, Nor taxed as avaricious or ambitious; Affectionate and frank, and void of art; A lover of his friends and unsuspicious; And where he hated knew no middle part: And men his malice and his love might rate; But then he was more prone to love than hate.

"To paint his person,--this was thin and dry; Well sorting it, his legs were spare and lean; Broad was his visage, and his nose was high, While narrow was the space that was between His eyebrows; sharp and blue his hollow eye, Which, buried in his beard, had not been seen, But that the master kept this thicket cleared. At mortal war with moustache and with beard."

No one ever detested servitude as he did, though servitude was still his dole. He then whimsically describes himself as inhabiting the palace of a fairy; where, according to Bajardo, people are kept happily and merrily, amusing themselves, and passing their lives in indolence. Berni supposes himself to be one of the company, together with a French cook, Maitre Pierre Buffet, who had been in the service of Giberti; and he describes his beau-ideal of the indolent life he loved. Tired with noise, lights, and music, he finds a lonely room, and causes the servants to bring a bed into it,--a large bed,--in which he might stretch himself at pleasure; and, finding his friend the cook, another bed is brought into the same room for him, and between the two a table was placed: this table was well supplied with the most savoury viands:--

"But soup and syrup pleased the Florentine (_Berni_), Who loathed fatigue like death; and for his part, Brought neither teeth nor fingers into play, But made two varlets feed him as he lay.

"Here couchant, nothing but his head was spied, Sheeted and quilted to the very chin; And needful food a serving man supplied Through pipe of silver placed the mouth within. Meanwhile the sluggard moved no part beside, Holding all motion else mere shame and sin: And (so his spirits and his health were broke), Not to fatigue this organ, seldom spoke."

"The cook was Master Peter hight, and he Had tales at will to wile away the day; To him the Florentine:--'Those fools, pardie, Have little wit, who dance that endless way.' And Peter in return: 'I think with thee.' Then with some merry story back'd the say, Swallowed a mouthful, and turned round in bed, And so, by starts, talked, turned, and slept, and fed."

* * * *

"Above all other curses, pen and ink Were by the Tuscan held in hate and scorn, Who, worse than any loathsome sight or stink, Detested pen and paper, ink and horn. So deeply did a deadly venom sink, So fester'd in his flesh a rankling thorn, While, night and day, with heart and garments rent, Seven weary years the wretch in writing spent.

"Of all their ways to baffle time and tide, This seems the strangest of their waking dreams: Couched on their backs, the two the rafters eyed, And taxed their drowsy wits to count the beams. 'T is thus they mark at leisure which is wide,' Which short, or which of due proportion seems, And which worm-eaten are, and which are sound, And if the total sum is odd or round."

This is a specimen of Berni's humour, which gave the name of Bernesco to poetry of this nature. More serious and more elegant verses abound, as we have already remarked, and prove that Berni deserves a very high place among Italian poets.

[Footnote 91: Panizzi.]

[Footnote 92: "Egli avea pien di lagrime la faccia, E fù smontato in su la terra piana; Ricolse il Re ferito ne le braccia, E sopra 'l marmo il pose a la fontana, E di pianger con seco non si saccia, Chiedendogli perdon con voce umana. Poi battezzollo a l' acqua de la fonte, Pregando Dio per lui con le man gionte.

"Poco poi stette, che l' ebbe trovato Freddo il viso e tutta la persona; Onde s'avvide ch' egli era passato. Sopra al marmor al fonte l'abbondona, Così com' era tutto quanto armato, Col brando in mano, e con la sua corona; E poi verso il destrier fece riguardo, E pargli di veder che sia Bajardo."

_Orlando Inn. da Bojardo_, lib. I. can. XIX. stan. 16, 17.]

[Footnote 93: "Piena avendo di lagrime la faccia Scende di Brigliadoro in terra il Conte, Recasi il Rè ferito nelle braccia E ponlo su la sponda della fonte; E pregando, lo bacia, e stretto abbraccia, Che l'ingiurie passate siano sconte, Non potendo dir sì, china il Re il collo, E Orlando con l'acqua battezzano.

"E poichè finalmente gli ha trovato Il viso freddo, e tutta la persona, Onde il giudica tutto trapassato, Par sopra quella sponda l' abbandona. Così com era tutto quanto armato, Col brando in mano, e con la sua corona: Poi verso il suo cavai volto lo sguardo Gli par raffigurar, che sia Bajardo."

_Orlando Inn. rifatto da Berni_, can. XIX. stan. 19, 20.]

ARIOSTO

Ludovico Ariosto was born in the castle of Reggio, a city of Lombardy, on the 8th of September, 1474. Both his parents were of ancient and honourable lineage: the Ariosti had long been distinguished in Bologna, when a daughter of their house, Lippa Ariosta, a lady of great beauty and address, being married to Obizzo III., marquis of Este, brought a number of her relatives to Ferrara: these, by her influence, she so fortunately established in offices of power and emolument, that they flourished for several generations among the grandees of that petty but splendid principality.

The poet's mother. Madonna Daria, belonged to a branch of the Malegucci, one of the wealthiest and noblest families in the north of Italy. Nicolo Ariosto, his father, held various places of trust and authority under the dukes of Ferrara. In youth he had been the companion of Borso, and steward of the household of Hercules, besides being occasionally employed on embassies to the pope and the king of France; in which he is said to have received more substantial recompence than barren dignities, in ample official salaries, and rich presents for special services. At the birth of the poet he was governor of the castle and territory of Reggio, and afterwards advanced to those of Modena; but as emolument came easily, and there were abundant temptations, besides heavy family expenses, to spend it lavishly, wealth never accumulated in his hands: wherefore, having nine younger children born to him, his views with respect to the eldest, Ludovico, were prudently directed towards establishing him in some profession, whereby he might acquire riches and rank for himself by perseverance in honourable labour. At the age of fourteen or fifteen years,--when he had already signalised himself by composing a drama on the story of Pyramus and Thisbe, which was performed by his little brothers and sisters,--no doubt as happily as the same subject in the Midsummer Night's Dream (whenever that happened) was enacted by Bottom the weaver and his comrades, or, rather, as happily as Oberon, Titania, and their train could have done it in fairy-land,--the young poet was sent, grievously against his will, to study civil law at Padua under two eminent practitioners, Angelo Castrinse and Il Maino. With them, like Ovid, Petrarch, Tasso, Marino, or our own Milton and Cowper, he spent five years to little profit, hating his profession, and studying so listlessly, that it became more and more manifest, the longer he drawled at it, that he never would excel in the strife of words and tournaments of tongues, by which the ample fortunes and broad lands of many families, whose founders the gods had fortunately not made poetical, were then, as now, like the prizes at hardier exercises, acquired. Nicolo Ariosto, therefore, at length abandoned the folly of spoiling a good poet to make a bad lawyer, and permitted his son to return to those learned studies and exercises of native talent, which had been either suspended, or indulged in by stealth, after his parent, "with spears and lances," had driven him from them into the toils of pleadings and precedents. Released from these trammels, (strewed as they were to his loathing eye with the mangled remains of causes, like cobwebs with sculls, wings, and fragments of flies,) Ludovico, at the age of twenty, found himself free to expatiate in that fields of classic literature, whose buried treasures, in his age, continued still to be dug up and brought to light from time to. time; or to roam abroad seeking adventures suited to his youthful imagination, in the wilds of French and Spanish romance, then recently thrown open to their countrymen by Pulci and Boiardo.

However enriched his mind in earlier youth might have been with knowledge of the dead languages--and we are required to believe that he had made a very promising Latin oration while he was a mere boy--he found, on returning to them, that he had lost so much as to need the help of a master to construe a fable of Æsop. But what he lost at law, he recovered at leisure, and added so much more to his stock; that he speedily became eminent among his contemporaries (at a time when Latin was more cultivated than Italian) for the critical skill; or, more probably; the quickness of apprehension and delicacy of taste; with which he elecidated obscure passages in Horace and Ovid. These appear to have been his favourite authors; and each of them; in the sequel; he not a little resembled; in their very dissimilar excellences. Under the tuition of Gregorio da Spoleti; a scholar of high repute; whom he has gratefully celebrated in the epistle to Bembo (Satire VI.); he so far perfected himself in the language of ancient Rome; that his verses in it were admired and commended by the greatest adepts in that factitious style of composition. It was the folly of the learned of that age and the preceding, to make Latin the universal language of writers who aimed at the honours of literature; a scheme so preposterous, that none but the learned could ever have stumbled upon it in their ignorance of every thing but what the relics of ancient books could teach them. To men of practical knowledge, it must have occurred, that all the fragments of Roman authors could, at the most, furnish a vocabulary comparatively small, and utterly inadequate to meet the demands of extending science, through new and ever-changing forms of society. Under such a servitude as made the Roman tongue itself pass under the Roman yoke, no phrase unauthorised by classic precedent could be hazarded, nor might a foreign word be engrafted upon the pure stock without appearing a barbarism. Meanwhile the very rhythm, accent, and pronunciation of the original being lost, scholars in every country were obliged to adapt these to the vernacular sounds of vowels and consonants among themselves; so that an Oxonian and a Tuscan, though they might understand each other by the eye on paper, would be nearly unintelligible by the ear and the living voice. It is manifest that nothing better than everlasting patchwork, of the same unchangeable materials, how diversely soever combined (like the patterns produced by the kaleidoscope, ever variable, yet little distinguishable from another), would have constituted the eloquence, poetry, and polite literature of modern Europe. No people would have suffered more than the Italians themselves, by employing a defunct and unimproveable tongue, in which their brightest geniuses must have been but secondary planets, dimly reflecting, through a hazy atmosphere, the borrowed beams of luminaries, themselves obscured by distance, as well as imperfectly seen from partial eclipses. It would then have been the glory of Dante, Petrarch, and Ariosto, to have written what Virgil, Cicero, and Horace would have as little relished in diction as they could have comprehended in substance, where things, persons, customs, and arts, un existent in their time, were the burthen of every original theme. On the other hand, equally simple, obvious, and beautiful, was the only living use that could be made of the dead languages (beyond the profit and delight of studying them in their surviving models); namely, that which time has made of them by transmutation and transfusion into modern tongues of such terms as were congenial to the latter, or could be rendered so by being employed, first, in technical or peculiar, and afterwards in elegant and familiar senses, to obviate the necessity of inventing new and inexpressive words, as the occasion of science and taste required. The Italian, French, Spanish, and English languages have thus been enriched and adorned with classical interpolations, so gradually adopted, that they seemed to grow naturally out of their respective stocks, as the sphere of knowledge increased, and its details became more multiform.

This golden age of Ariosto's life was shortened by the death of his father; who left to his eldest son, with means exceedingly small, the responsibility of supporting his mother, and training up his nine brothers and sisters. In the sixth of his Satires,--satires which are almost wholly personal and autobiographic,--he says, that on this occasion he was obliged, at four and twenty years of age, to abandon Thalia, Euterpe, and all the nine Muses; to turn from quiet studies to active duties, and exchange Homer for waste-books and ledgers, (_squarci e vacchette_). These trusts, the young, ambitious, fiery-minded poet faithfully and self-denyingly fulfilled; and he who, under parental injunction, at the most docile period of life, would not submit to the profitable drudgery of the law, now, in the very flower and pride of his genius, with filial piety and fraternal affection, yielded to a domestic yoke, and became the father of his family. In this honourable character he so well husbanded his narrow patrimony, that he portioned off now one, then another sister, and provided education for his four brothers, who, as they grew up, entered into the service of sundry princes and nobles, as was the custom with the minor gentry in that half-feudal age. Gabriele cultivated literature, and excelled in the composition of Latin verse; but, making Statius his model, he was never worthy to compete, even in this respect, with his more illustrious brother. Galasso entered into the church, which was then the wealthy and lavish patroness of those, who, by their subserviency to her domination, or their able advocacy of it, sought the good things of the present life under the guise of having their affections fixed on higher, holier, and eternal things. Yet the latter could hardly be said to be used as a pretence for the purpose of deceiving; so lax, shameless, mercenary, and ambitious was the hierarchy of that age. Such profligacy, however, must not be laid to the charge of Galasso, of whom nothing bad is known. "Galasso, in the city of Evander, is seeking a surplice to put over his night-gown," says Ludovico in his second Satire; meaning, to obtain a bishop's robe and rochet--to become a prelate or a canon. Alexander was of a more enterprising disposition; and delighting in foreign travel, lie attached himself to the train of the cardinal Hippolito d'Este, brother to Alfonso duke of Ferrara, whom he accompanied into Hungary; and, according to his brother's description of that imperious patron's court, appears to have fretted away his hour upon a stage of artificial manners, dissipated pleasures, and emasculating duties. Carlo, of whom nothing particular is recorded, took up his abode in the kingdom of Naples, where he died. These particulars are gathered chiefly from the sixth Satire, with the additional intelligence, in the second, that, at the time of writing it, the author had to furnish a dowry to his fifth and last sister, then about to be married. Though this must have been twenty years after the death of their father, the mother was still living with him. The allusion to her in the context has often been quoted, but it is so simply and purely beautiful, that it cannot be quoted amiss here. Excusing himself by many reasons for not going abroad; and having mentioned, in the foregoing lines, the dispersion of all the other members of the family from their common home, except himself and her; he says,

"L'età di nostra madre mi percote Di pietà il core, che da tutti, a un tratto, Senza infamia lasciata esser non puote."

"Our mother's years with pity pierce my heart, For, without infamy, she could not be By all of us, at once, forsaken."

_Satire II._

But while Ariosto, from his twenty-fourth to his forty-fifth year, was thus humbly, yet honourably, nourishing his mother and training up his brothers and sisters--though his studies were much interrupted at first, and he was obliged to abandon the Greek language altogether (which he had recently been recovering)--he maintained his reputation among the first Latin scholars; and in the same busy interval achieved his greatest triumph in the literature of his own land. Under the voluntary burthen of domestic cares, the buoyancy of irrepressible genius bore him up from obscurity; and whatever might have been the secret misgivings, or the generous forecastings, of undeveloped but conscious powers, he found himself, at nine and twenty years of age, in the first circles of Italian society, courted, admired, applauded, and of course envied, both for his conversation, his learning, and his poetry. In the latter, indeed (judging by what remains), he seems to have produced nothing but two or three indifferent dramas, certain loose love elegies, with a few middling sonnets and madrigals,--all fantastic and pleasant enough in their way, but the best of them affording no great promise that their writer would ere long surpass all predecessors in one wide field of invention, and leave to successors nothing to do in it but--not to imitate him: so late and slowly, often, are the most extraordinary talents brought into exercise. It is difficult to imagine, in our cold clime, with our refractory tongue, and accustomed as we are to the phlegm of our countrymen, how such performances as the above could raise a man to celebrity: but verse was not then the pastime of every lover of verse; and reputations were not so numerous as they are in these days, when there are a thousand avenues to the temple of fame not then opened,--and quite as many out of it,--while candidates are seen crowding in such throngs as to tread on one another's heels, those behind forcing onward those in front; so that our literary ephemera resemble a procession of spectators through a palace, when a royal corpse lies in state; multitudes coming in, passing on, going out continually, a few pausing, none stopping. The Italian language, however, it must be observed, for all the minor and more exquisite forms of verse, is not less felicitously and inimitably adapted, than is the French to the _badinage_ of prose. Ariosto gained credit for these _bagatelles_, in an age when Bembo, Molza, and many others were his contemporaries, who, to this hour, are chiefly known by such things, and nothing better. But, for some reason or other which is not apparent, Ariosto was certainly looked up to, and renowned by anticipation, for a long contemplated achievement of equal daring to any of the knights' adventures which in due course he celebrated, and which proved not less successful in the issue than his own "Astolpho's Journey to the Moon:" for in this (the "Orlando Furioso"), the madness of his hero covered him with more glory than the restoring of the Paladin's lost wits did the rider of the hippogriff. Ariosto, indeed, was the very Astolpho of song, and both his Paladins and their countries must be sought in the moon, or nowhere.

He was, during the greater portion of this eventful period of his life, in the service of cardinal Hippolito d'Este, who affected to be a Mæcenas, and who, at least as much from vanity and ostentation as from genuine taste or delight in their compositions, assembled round him the prime scholars and wits of the age. By some of his biographers, the poet is said to have received munificent proofs that the princely ecclesiastic knew how to value the endowments of the Muses more than personages of his rank are wont to do. But this seems very questionable, from the poet's own account of his patron's bounty in his second Satire, which may be noticed hereafter. Leisure and competence, however, he must have enjoyed during this irksome and almost menial servitude, under which, with all its debasements, he produced his "Orlando Furioso." Having commenced the poem, he communicated the specimen and plan to his friend cardinal Bembo, who, influenced by the pedantic prejudice formerly alluded to, seriously advised him to compose it in Latin; a language in which, with all the mastery that a modern could attain over it, the licentious fables of chivalry--licentious in every sense, in diction, sentiment, plot, narrative, and morals,--would have appeared as heterogeneous and outlandish as the wrath of Achilles in Chinese, or the piety of Æneas in Sanscrit. Mr. Roscoe says of Sanazzaro and Bembo, who were brother rivals for the honours of Parnassus, that while the former "turned all his talents for the improvement of Latin poesy, the latter persevered in cultivating his native tongue."[94] Most people can give better advice than they take: Bembo, it seems, took better than he gave; and Ariosto had sagacity enough to follow his counsellor's example rather than his precept, nobly answering, "I would rather stand among the first of writers in my own tongue, than below Ovid or Virgil himself in theirs."

This task, therefore, for fifteen years, he pursued, with occasional external interruptions, but none probably from within; for, his mind being impregnated with the great conception, he could not help brooding over it by day and by night, amidst business and pleasure, in crowds and in solitude, at Rome as ambassador from the duke to the pope, and at Ferrara as a courtier in the palace of cardinal Hippolito; but especially at his birth-place, Reggio, in the retirement of a villa belonging to one of his maternal relatives, Sigismondo Malegucci. Here, in one of the chambers of an ancient tower within the domain, he elaborated canto after canto of that most anomalous yet impressive poem, which, while it appears as unconnected as a tissue of dreams in its details, (as it resembles the stuff which dreams are made of in its materials,) is nevertheless one of the most perfect webs of narrative that fancy ever spun, or genius wove, from the silkworm produce of a poet's brain. No rival composition of the same or any other class of heroic verse has yet proved equally attractive to Italian readers in every rank of life; though, in the "Gerusalemme Liberata" of Tasso, consummate skill and genius of the highest order have constructed an epic according to the strictest rules of art, to conciliate the learned, and at the same time embellished it with all the graces of romance, to charm the multitude, who love to be pleased, because they cannot help it, and care not by what means, so that these be but "rich and strange."