Stories from the Italian Poets: with Lives of the Writers, Volume 2

Title: Stories from the Italian Poets: with Lives of the Writers, Volume 2

Author: Leigh Hunt

Contributor: Lodovico Ariosto

Matteo Maria Boiardo

Torquato Tasso

Release date: January 1, 2004 [eBook #10635] Most recently updated: October 28, 2024

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/10635

Credits: Produced by Stan Goodman, Jayam Subramanian and PG Distributed Proofreaders

STORIES FROM THE ITALIAN POETS:

WITH

LIVES OF THE WRITERS.

BY LEIGH HUNT.

IN TWO VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

MDCCCXLVI.

CONTENTS

OF

THE SECOND VOLUME.

BOIARDO.

CRITICAL NOTICE OF HIS LIFE AND GENIUS

THE ADVENTURES OF ANGELICA

THE DEATH OF AGRICAN

THE SARACEN FRIENDS Part the Second

SEEING AND BELIEVING

ARIOSTO.

CRITICAL NOTICE OF HIS LIFE AND GENIUS

THE ADVENTURES OF ANGELICA Part I. Angelica and her Suitors II. Angelica and Medoro III. The Jealousy of Orlando

ASTOLFO'S JOURNEY TO THE MOON

ARIODANTE AND GINEVRA

SUSPICION

ISABELLA

TASSO.

CRITICAL NOTICE OF HIS LIFE AND GENIUS

OLINDO AND SOPHRONIA

TANCRED AND CLORINDA

RINALDO AND ARMIDA;

WITH THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENCHANTED FOREST: Part I. Armida in the Christian Camp II. Armida's Hate and Love III. The Terrors of the Enchanted Forest IV. The Loves of Rinaldo and Armida V. The Disenchantment of the Forest, and the Taking of Jerusalem, &c.

APPENDIX.

I. The Death of Agrican II. Angelica and Medoro Translation III. The Jealousy of Orlando IV. The Death of Clorinda V. Tancred in the Enchanted Forest

BOIARDO:

Critical Notice of his Life and Genius.

Critical Notice

OF BOIARDO'S LIFE AND GENIUS.[1]

While Pulci in Florence was elevating romance out of the street-ballads, and laying the foundation of the chivalrous epic, a poet appeared in Lombardy (whether inspired by his example is uncertain) who was destined to carry it to a graver though still cheerful height, and prepare the way for the crowning glories of Ariosto. In some respects he even excelled Ariosto: in all, with the exception of style, shewed himself a genuine though immature master.

Little is known of his life, but that little is very pleasant. It exhibits him in the rare light of a poet who was at once rich, romantic, an Arcadian and a man of the world, a feudal lord and an indulgent philosopher, a courtier equally beloved by prince and people.

Matteo Maria Boiardo, Count of Scandiano, Lord of Arceto, Casalgrande, &c., Governor of Reggio, and Captain of the citadel of Modena (it is pleasant to repeat such titles when so adorned), is understood to have been born about the year 1434, at Scandiano, a castle at the foot of the Apennines, not far from Reggio, and famous for its vines.

He was of an ancient family, once lords of Rubiera, and son of Giovanni, second count of Scandiano, and Lucia, a lady of a branch of the Strozzi family in Florence, and sister and aunt of Tito and Erole Strozzi, celebrated Latin poets. His parents appear to have been wise people, for they gave him an education that fitted him equally for public and private life. He was even taught, or acquired, more Greek than was common to the men of letters of that age. His whole life seems, accordingly, to have been divided, with equal success, between his duties as a servant of the dukes of Modena, both military and civil, and the prosecution of his beloved art of poetry,—a combination of pursuits which have been idly supposed incompatible. Milton's poetry did not hinder him from being secretary to Cromwell, and an active partisan. Even the sequestered Spenser was a statesman; and poets and writers of fiction abound in the political histories of all the great nations of Europe. When a man possesses a thorough insight into any one intellectual department

(except, perhaps, in certain corners of science), it only sharpens his powers of perception for the others, if he chooses to apply them.

In the year 1469, Boiardo was one of the noblemen who went to meet the Emperor Frederick the Third on his way to Ferrara, when Duke Borso of Modena entertained him in that city. Two years afterwards, Borso, who had been only Marquis of Ferrara, received its ducal title from the Pope; and on going to Rome to be invested with his new honours, the name of our poet is again found among the adorners of his state. A few days after his return home this prince died; and Boiardo, favoured as he had been by him, appears to have succeeded to a double portion of regard in the friendship of the new duke, Ercole, who was more of his own age.

During all this period, from his youth to his prime, our author varied his occupations with Italian and Latin poetry; some of it addressed to a lady of the name of Antonia Caprara, and some to another, whose name is thought to have been Rosa; but whether these ladies died, or his love was diverted elsewhere, he took to wife, in the year 1472, Taddea Gonzaga, of the noble house of that name, daughter of the Count of Novellara. In the course of the same year he is supposed to have begun his great poem. A popular court-favourite, in the prime of life, marrying and commencing a great poem nearly at one and the same time, presents an image of prosperity singularly delightful. By this lady Boiardo had two sons and four daughters. The younger son, Francesco Maria, died in his childhood; but the elder, Camillo, succeeded to his father's title, and left an heir to it,—the last, I believe, of the name. The reception given to the poet's bride, when he took her to Scandiano, is said to have been very splendid.

In the ensuing year the duke his master took a wife himself. She was Eleonora, daughter of the King of Naples; and the newly-married poet was among the noblemen who were sent to escort her to Ferrara. For several years afterwards, his time was probably filled up with the composition of the Orlando Innamorato, and the entertainments given by a splendid court. He was appointed Governor of Reggio, probably in 1478. At the expiration of two or three years he was made Captain of the citadel of Modena; and in 1482 a war broke out, with the Venetians, in which he took part, for it interrupted the progress of his poem. In 1484 he returned to it; but ten years afterwards was again and finally interrupted by the unprincipled descent of the French on Italy under Charles the Eighth; and in the December following he died. The Orlando Innamorato was thus left unfinished. Eight years before his decease the author published what he had written of it up to that time, but the first complete edition was posthumous. The poet was writing when the French came: he breaks off with

an anxious and bitter notice of the interruption, though still unable to deny himself a last word on the episode which he was relating, and a hope that he should conclude it another time.

"Mentre che io canto, o Dio redentore, Vedo l'Italia tutta a fiamma e foco, Per questi Galli, che con gran valore Vengon, per disertar non so che loco: Però vi lascio in questo vano amore Di Fiordespina ardente poco a poco Un' altra volta, se mi fia concesso, Racconterovvi il tutto per espresso."

But while I sing, mine eyes, great God! behold A flaming fire light all the Italian sky, Brought by these French, who, with their myriads bold, Come to lay waste, I know not where or why. Therefore, at present, I must leave untold How love misled poor Fiordespina's eye.[2] Another time, Fate willing, I shall tell, From first to last, how every thing befell.

Besides the Orlando Innamorato, Boiardo wrote a variety of prose works, a comedy in verse on the subject of Timon, lyrics of great elegance, with a vein of natural feeling running through them, and Latin poetry of a like sort, not, indeed, as classical in its style as that of Politian and the other subsequent revivers of the ancient manner, but perhaps not the less interesting on that account; for it is difficult to conceive a thorough copyist in style expressing his own thorough feelings. Mr. Panizzi, if I am not mistaken, promised the world a collection of the miscellaneous poems of Boiardo; but we have not yet had the pleasure of seeing them. In his life of the poet, however, he has given several specimens, both Latin and Italian, which are extremely agreeable. The Latin poems consist of ten eclogues and a few epigrams; but the epigrams, this critic tells us, are neither good nor on a fitting subject, being satirical sallies against Nicolò of Este, who had attempted to seize on Ferrara, and been beheaded. Boiardo was not of a nature qualified to

indulge in bitterness. A man of his chivalrous disposition probably misgave himself while he was writing these epigrams. Perhaps he suffered them to escape his pen out of friendship for the reigning branch of the family. But it must be confessed, that some of the best-natured men have too often lost sight of their higher feelings during the pleasure and pride of composition.

With respect to the comedy of Timon, if the whole of it is written as well as the concluding address of the misanthrope (which Mr. Panizzi has extracted into his pages), it must be very pleasant. Timon conceals a treasure in a tomb, and thinks he has baffled some knaves who had a design upon it. He therefore takes leave of his audience with the following benedictions

"Pur ho scacciate queste due formiche, Che raspavano l' oro alla mia buca, Or vadan pur, che Dio le malediche.

Cotal fortuna a casa li conduca, Che lor fiacchi le gambe al primo passo, E nel secondo l'osso della nuca.

Voi altri, che ascoltate giuso al basso, Chiedete, se volete alcuna cosa, Prima ch' io parta, perchè mo vi lasso.

Benchè abbia l'alma irata e disdegnosa, Da ingiusti oltraggi combattuta e vinta, A voi già non l'avrò tanto ritrosa.

In me non è pietade al tutto estinta Faccia di voi la prova chi gli pare, Sino alla corda, the mi trovo cinta;

Gli presterò, volendosi impiccare."

So! I've got rid of these two creeping things, That fain would have scratched up my buried gold. They're gone; and may the curse of God go with them! May they reach home dust in good time enough To break their legs at the first step in doors, And necks i' the second!—And now then, as to you, Good audience,—groundlings,—folks who love low places, You too perhaps would fain get something of me, Ere I take leave.—Well;—angered though I be, Scornful and torn with rage at being ground Into the dust with wrong, I'm not so lost To all concern and charity for others As not to be still kind enough to part With something near to me-something that's wound About my very self. Here, sirs; mark this;— [Untying the cord round his waist. Let any that would put me to the test, Take it with all my heart, and hang themselves.

The comedy of Timon, which was chiefly taken from Lucian, and one, if not more, of Boiardo's prose translations from other ancients, were written at the request of Duke Ercole, who was a great lover of dramatic versions of this kind, and built a theatre for their exhibition at an enormous expense. These prose translations consist of Apuleius's Golden Ass, Herodotus (the Duke's order), the Golden Ass of Lucian, Xenophon's Cyropædia (not printed), Emilius Probus (also not printed, and supposed to be Cornelius Nepos), and Riccobaldo's credulous Historia Universalis, with additions. It seems not improbable, that he also translated Homer and Diodorus; and Doni the bookmaker asserts, that he wrote a work called the Testamento dell' Anima (the Soul's Testament) but Mr. Panizzi calls Doni "a barefaced impostor;" and says, that as the work is mentioned by nobody else, we may be "certain that it never existed," and that the title was "a forgery of the impudent priest."

Nothing else of Boiardo's writing is known to exist, but a collection of official letters in the archives of Modena, which, according to Tiraboschi, are of no great importance. It is difficult to suppose, however, that they would not be worth looking at. The author of the Orlando Innamorato could hardly write, even upon the driest matters of government, with the aridity of a common clerk. Some little lurking well-head of character or circumstance, interesting to readers of a later age, would probably break through the barren ground. Perhaps the letters went counter to some of the good Jesuit's theology.

Boiardo's prose translations from the authors of antiquity are so scarce, that Mr. Panizzi himself, a learned and miscellaneous reader, says he never saw them. I am willing to get the only advantage in my power over an Italian critic, by saying that I have had some of them in my hands,—brought there by the pleasant chances of the bookstalls; but I can give no account of them. A modern critic, quoted by this gentleman (Gamba, Testi di Lingua), calls the version of Apuleius "rude and curious;"[3] but adds, that it contains "expressions full of liveliness and propriety." By "rude" is probably meant obsolete, and comparatively unlearned. Correctness of interpretation and classical nicety of style (as Mr. Panizzi observes) were the growths of a later age.

Nothing is told us by his biographers of the person of Boiardo: and it is not safe to determine a man's physique from his writings, unless perhaps with respect to the greater or less amount of his animal spirits; for the able-bodied may write effeminately, and the feeblest supply the defect of corporal stamina with spiritual. Portraits, however, seem to be extant. Mazzuchelli discovered that a medal had been struck in the poet's honour; and in the castle of Scandiano (though "the halls where knights and ladies listened to the adventures of the Paladin are now turned into granaries," and Orlando himself has nearly disappeared from the outside, where he was painted in huge dimensions as if "entrusted with the wardenship") there was a likeness of Boiardo executed by Niccolo dell' Abate, together with the principal events of the Orlando Innamorato and the Æneid.But part of these paintings (Mr. Panizzi tells us) were destroyed, and part removed from the castle to Modena" to save them from certain loss;" and he does not add whether the portrait was among the latter.

From anecdotes, however, and from the poet's writings, we gather the nature of the man; and this appears to have been very amiable. There is an aristocratic tone in his poem, when speaking of the sort of people of whom the mass of soldiers is wont to consist; and Foscolo says, that the Count of Scandiano writes like a feudal lord. But common soldiers are not apt to be the elite of mankind; neither do we know with how goodnatured a smile the mention of them may have been accompanied. People often give a tone to what they read, more belonging to their own minds than the author's. All the accounts left us of Boiardo, hostile as well as friendly, prove him to have been an indulgent and popular man. According to one, he was fond of making personal inquiries among its inhabitants into the history of his native place; and he requited them so generously for their information, that it was customary with them to say, when they wished good fortune to one another, "Heaven send Boiardo to your house!" There is said to have been a tradition at Scandiano, that having tried in

vain one day, as he was riding out, to discover a name for one of his heroes, expressive of his lofty character, and the word Rodamonte coming into his head, he galloped back with a pleasant ostentation to his castle, crying it out aloud, and ordering the bells of the place to be rung in its holiour; to the astonishment of the good people, who took "Rodamonte" for some newly-discovered saint. His friend Paganelli of Modena, who wrote a Latin poem on the Empire of Cupid, extolled the Governor of Reggio for ranking among the deity's most generous vassals,—one who, in spite of his office of magistrate, looked with an indulgent eye on errors to which himself was liable, and who was accustomed to prefer the study of love-verses to that of the law. The learned lawyer, his countryman Panciroli, probably in resentment, as Panizzi says, of this preference, accused him of an excess of benignity, and of being fitter for writing poems than punishing ill deeds; and in truth, as the same critic observes, "he must have been considered crazy

by the whole tribe of lawyers of that age," if it be true that he anticipated the opinion of Beccaria, in thinking that no crime ought to be punished with death.

The great work of this interesting and accomplished person, the Orlando Innamorato, is an epic romance, founded on the love of the great Paladin for the peerless beauty Angelica, whose name has enamoured the ears of posterity. The poem introduces us to the pleasantest paths in that track of reading in which Milton has told us that his "young feet delighted to wander." Nor did he forsake it in his age.

"Such forces met not, nor so wide a camp, When Agrican with all his northern powers Besieged Albracca, as romances tell, The city of Gallaphrone, from whence to win The fairest of her sex, Angelica."

Paradise Regained.

The Orlando Innamorato may be divided into three principal portions:-the search for Angelica by Orlando and her other lovers; the siege of her father's city Albracca by the Tartars; and that of Paris and Charlemagne by the Moors. These, however, are all more or less intermingled, and with the greatest art; and there are numerous episodes of a like intertexture. The fairies and fairy-gardens of British romance, and the fabulous glories of the house of Este, now proclaimed for the first time, were added by the author to the enchantments of Pulci, together with a pervading elegance; and had the poem been completed, we were to have heard again of the traitor Gan of Maganza, for the purpose of exalting the imaginary founder of that house, Ruggero.

This resuscitation of the Helen of antiquity, under a more seducing form, was an invention of Boiardo's; so was the subjection of Charles's hero Orlando to the passion of love; so, besides the heroine and her name, was that of other interesting characters with beautiful names, which afterwards figured in Ariosto. This inventive faculty is indeed so conspicuous in every part of the work, on small as well as great occasions, in fairy-adventures and those of flesh and blood, that although the author appears to have had both his loves and his fairies suggested to him by our romances of Arthur and the Round Table, it constitutes, next to the pervading elegance above mentioned, his chief claim to our admiration. Another of his merits is a certain tender gallantry, or rather an honest admixture of animal passion with spiritual, also the precursor of the like ingenuous emotions in Ariosto; and he furthermore set his follower the example, not only of good breeding, but of a constant heroical cheerfulness, looking with faith on

nature. Pulci has a constant cheerfulness, but not with so much grace and dignity. Foscolo has remarked, that Boiardo's characters even surpass those of Ariosto in truth and variety, and that his Angelica more engages our feelings;[4] to which I will venture to add, that if his style is less strong and complete, it never gives us a sense of elaboration. I should take Boiardo to have been the healthier man, though of a less determined will than Ariosto, and perhaps, on the whole, less robust. You find in Boiardo almost which Ariosto perfected,—chivalry, battles, combats, loves and graces, passions, enchantments, classical and romantic fable, eulogy, satire, mirth, pathos, philosophy. It is like the first sketch of a great picture, not the worse in some respects for being a sketch; free and light, though not so grandly coloured. It is the morning before the sun is up, and when the dew is on the grass. Take the stories which are translated in the present volume, and you might fancy them all written by Ariosto, with a difference; the Death of Agrican perhaps