Renaissance in Italy Volume VI Part 45

Soon after 1600 it became manifest that lapse of years and ecclesiastical intolerance had rendered Italy nearly dest.i.tute of great men. Her famous sons were all either dead, murdered or exiled; reduced to silence by the scythe of time or by the Roman 'arguments of sword and halter.' Bruno burned, Vanini burned, Carnesecchi burned, Paleario burned, Bonfadio burned; Campanella banished, after a quarter of a century's imprisonment with torture; the leaders of free religious thought in exile, scattered over northern Europe. Ta.s.so, worn out with misery and madness, rested at length in his tomb on the Janiculan; Sarpi survived the stylus of the Roman Curia with calm inscrutability at S. Fosca; Galileo meditated with closed lips in his watch-tower behind Bello Sguardo. With Michelangelo in 1564, Palladio in 1580, Tintoretto in 1594, the G.o.dlike lineage of the Renaissance artists ended; and what children of the sixteenth century still survived to sustain the nation's prestige, to carry on its glorious traditions? The list is but a poor one. Marino, Ta.s.soni, the younger Buonarroti, Boccalini and Chiabrera in literature. The Bolognese Academy in painting. After these men expand arid wildernesses of the Sei Cento--barocco architecture, false taste, frivolity, grimace, affectation--Jesuitry translated into culture. On one bright point, indeed, the eye rests with hope and comfort.

Palestrina, when he died in 1594, did not close but opened an age for music. His posterity, those composers, lutists, violists and singers, from whom the modern art of arts has drawn her being, down to the sweet fellows.h.i.+p of Pergolese, Marcello and Jomelli, of Guarneri, Amati and Stradivari, of Farinelli, Caffarielli and La Romanina, were as yet but rising dimly heralded with light of dawn upon their foreheads.

In making the transition from the _Gerusalemme_ to the _Adone_, from the last great poem of the Cinque Cento to the epic of the Sei Cento, it is indispensable that notice should be taken of the _Pastor Fido_ and its author. Giambattista Guarini forms a link between Va.s.so and the poets of the seventeenth century. He belonged less to the Renaissance, more to the culture of the age created by the Council of Trent, than did Ta.s.so.

His life, in many of its details similar, in others most dissimilar, to that of Ta.s.so, ill.u.s.trates and helps us in some measure to explain the latter. It must therefore form the subject of a somewhat detailed study.

Guarini drew his blood on the paternal side from the ill.u.s.trious humanist Guarino of Verona, who settled at Ferrara in the fifteenth century as tutor to Leonello d'Este.[176] By his mother he claimed descent from the Florentine house of Machiavelli. Born in 1537, he was seven years older than Torquato Ta.s.so, whom he survived eighteen years, not closing his long life until 1612. He received a solid education both at Pisa and Padua, and was called at the early age of eighteen to profess moral philosophy in the University of Ferrara. Being of n.o.ble birth and inheriting a considerable patrimony, Guarini might have enjoyed a life of uninterrupted literary leisure, if he had chosen to forego empty honors and shun the idle distractions of Courts. But it was the fate of distinguished men in that age to plunge into those quicksands. Guarini had a character and intellect suited to the conduct of state affairs; and he shared the delusion prevalent among his contemporaries, that the petty Italian princ.i.p.alities could offer a field for the exercise of these talents. 'If our country is reduced to the sole government of a prince,' he writes, 'the man who serves his prince will serve his country, a duty both natural and binding upon all.'[177] Accordingly, soon after his marriage to Taddea of the n.o.ble Bendedei family, he entered the service of Alfonso II. This was in 1567.

Ta.s.so, in his quality of gentleman to Cardinal d'Este, had already shed l.u.s.tre on Ferrara through the past two years. Guarini first made Ta.s.so's friends.h.i.+p at Padua, where both were Eterei and house-guests of Scipione Gonzaga. The two poets now came together in a rivalry which was not altogether amicable. The genius of Ta.s.so, in the prime of youth and heyday of Court-favor, roused Guarini's jealousy. And yet their positions were so different that Guarini might have been well satisfied to pursue his own course without envy. A married and elder man, he had no right to compete in gallantry with the brilliant young bachelor.

Destined for diplomacy and affairs of state, he had no cause to grudge the Court poet his laurels. Writing in 1595, Guarini avers that 'poetry has been my pastime, never my profession'; and yet he made it his business at Ferrara to rival Ta.s.so both as a lyrist and as a servant of dames. Like Ta.s.so, he suffered from the spite of Alfonso's secretaries, Pigna and Montecatino, who seem to have incarnated the malevolence of courtiers in its basest form. So far, there was a close parallel between the careers of the two men at Ferrara.

[Footnote 176: See _Renaissance in Italy_, vol. ii. pp. 299, 300.]

[Footnote 177: _Lettere del Guarini_, Venezia, 1596, p. 2.]

But Guarini's wealth and avowed objects in life caused the duke from the first to employ him in a different kind of service. Alfonso sent him as amba.s.sador to Venice, Rome, and Turin, giving him the rank of Cavaliere in order that he might perform his missions with more dignity.

At Turin, where he resided for some time, Guarini conceived a just opinion of the growing importance of the House of Savoy. Like all the finest spirits of his age, Ta.s.soni, Sarpi, Chiabrera, Marino, Testi, he became convinced that if Italy were to recover her independence, it could only be by the opposition of the Dukes of Savoy to Spain. How nearly the hopes of these men were being realized by Carlo Emmanuele, and how those hopes were frustrated by Roman intrigues and the jealousy of Italian despots, is matter of history. Yet the student may observe with interest that the most penetrating minds of the sixteenth century already discerned the power by means of which, after the lapse of nearly three hundred years, the emanc.i.p.ation of Italy has been achieved.

In 1574 Guarini was sent to Poland, to congratulate Henri III. upon his election to that monarchy. He went a second time in the following year to conduct more delicate negotiations. The crown of Poland was now thrown open to candidature; and more than one of the Italian Princes thought seriously of competing for this honor. The Grand Duke of Tuscany entertained the notion and abandoned it. But Alfonso II. of Ferrara, who had fought with honor in his youth in Hungary, made it a serious object of ambition. Manolesso, the Venetian envoy in 1575 at Ferrara, relates how the duke spent laborious hours in acquiring the German language, 'which no one learns for pleasure, since it is most barbarous, nor quickly, but with industry and large expenditure of time.' He also writes: 'The duke aspires to greatness, nor is satisfied with his present State; and therefore he has entered into the Polish affair, encouraged thereto by his brother the Cardinal and by his amba.s.sador in Poland.'[178]

These emba.s.sies were a serious drain upon Guarini's resources; for it appears certain that if he received any appointments, they were inadequate to the expenses of long journeys and the maintenance of a becoming state. He therefore returned to Ferrara, considerably burdened with debts; and this was just the time at which Ta.s.so's mental derangement began to manifest itself. Between 1575 and 1579, the date of Ta.s.so's imprisonment at Sant' Anna, the two men lived together at the Court. Guarini's rivalry induced him at this period to cultivate poetry with such success that, when the author of the _Gerusalemme_ failed, Alfonso commanded him to take the vacant place of Court poet. There is an interesting letter extant from Guarini to his friend Cornelio Bentivoglio, describing the efforts he made to comply with the Duke's pleasure. 'I strove to transform myself into another man, and, like a playactor, to rea.s.sume the character, manners and emotions of a past period. Mature in age, I forced myself to appear young; exchanged my melancholy for gayety: affected loves I did not feel; turned my wisdom into folly, and, in a word, pa.s.sed from philosopher to poet.'[179] How ill-adapted he was to this masquerade existence may be gathered from another sentence in the same letter. 'I am already in my forty-fourth year, burdened with debts, the father of eight children, two of my sons old enough to be my judges, and with my daughters to marry.'

[Footnote 178: Alberi, _Relazioni_, series 2, vol. ii. pp. 423-425.]

At last, abandoning this uncongenial strain upon his faculties, Guarini retired in 1582 to the villa which he had built upon his ancestral estate in the Polesine, that delightful rustic region between Adige and Po. Here he gave himself up to the cares of his family, the nursing of his dilapidated fortune, and the composition of the _Pastor Fido_. It is not yet the time to speak of that work, upon which Guarini's fame as poet rests; for the drama, though suggested by Ta.s.so's _Aminta_, was not finally perfected until 1602.[180] Yet we may pause to remark upon the circ.u.mstances under which he wrote it. A disappointed courtier, past the prime of manhood, feeling his true vocation to be for severe studies and practical affairs, he yet devoted years of leisure to the slow elaboration of a dramatic masterpiece which is worthy to rank with the cla.s.sics of Italian literature. During this period his domestic lot was not a happy one. He lost his wife, quarreled with his elder sons, and involved himself in a series of lawsuits.[181] Litigation seems to have been an inveterate vice of his maturity, and he bequeathed to his descendants a coil of legal troubles. Having married one of his daughters, Anna, to Count Ercole Trotti, he had the misery of hearing in 1596 that she had fallen an innocent victim to her husband's jealousy, and that his third son, Girolamo connived at her a.s.sa.s.sination. In the midst of these annoyances and sorrows, he maintained a grave and robust att.i.tude, uttering none of those querulous lamentations which flowed so readily from Ta.s.so's pen.

[Footnote 179: _Lettere_, p. 195.]

[Footnote 180: In this year it was published with the author's revision by Ciotto at Venice. It had been represented at Turin in 1585, and first printed at Venice in 1590.]

Ta.s.so had used the Pastoral Drama to idealize Courts. Guarini vented all the bitterness of his soul against them in his _Pastor Fido_. He also wrote from his retirement: 'I am at ease in the enjoyment of liberty, studies, the management of my household.'[182] Yet in 1585, while on a visit to Turin, he again accepted proposals from Alfonso. He had gone there in order to superintend the first representation of his Pastoral, which was dedicated to the Duke of Savoy. Extremely averse to his old servants taking office under other princes, the Duke of Ferrara seems to have feared lest Guarini should pa.s.s into the Court of Carlo Emmanuele.

He therefore appointed him Secretary of State; and Guarini entered upon the post in the same year that Ta.s.so issued from his prison. This reconciliation did not last long. Alfonso took the side of Alessandro Guarini in a lawsuit with his father; and the irritable poet retired in indignation to Florence. The Duke of Ferrara, however, was determined that he should not serve another master. At Florence, Turin, Mantua and Rome, his attempts to obtain firm foothold in offices of trust were invariably frustrated; and Coccapani, the Duke's envoy, hinted that if Guarini were not circ.u.mspect, 'he might suffer the same fate as Ta.s.so.'

To shut Guarini up in a madhouse would have been difficult. Still he might easily have been dispatched by the poniard; and these words throw not insignificant light upon Ta.s.so's terror of a.s.sa.s.sination.

[Footnote 181: Guarini may be compared with Trissino in these points of his private life. See _Renaissance in Italy_, vol. v. 303-305.]

[Footnote 182: _Lettere_, p. 196.]

The Duke Alfonso died in 1597, and Ferrara reverted to the Holy See.

Upon this occasion, Guarini was free to follow his own inclinations. He therefore established himself at the Court of the Grand Duke, into whose confidence he entered upon terms of flattering familiarity. Ferdinando de'Medici 'fell in love with him as a man may with a fine woman,' says his son Alessandro in one of his apologetic writings. This, however, meant but little; for compliments pa.s.sed freely between princes and their courtiers; which, when affairs of purse or honor were at stake, soon turned to discontent and hatred. So it fared with Guarini at Florence. His son, Guarino, made a marriage of which he disapproved, but which the Grand Duke countenanced. So slight a disagreement snapped the ties of friends.h.i.+p, and the restless poet removed to the Court of Urbino. There the last duke of the House of Rovere, Francesco Maria II., Ta.s.so's schoolfellow and patron, was spending his widowed years in gloomy Spanish pride. The mortmain of the Church was soon to fall upon Urbino, as it had already fallen on Ferrara. Guarini wrote: 'The former Court in Italy is a dead thing. One may see the shadow, but not the substance of it nowadays. Ours is an age of appearances, and one goes a-masquerading all the year.' A sad but sincere epitaph, inscribed by one who had gone the round of all the Courts of Italy, and had survived the grand free life of the Renaissance.

These words close Guarini's career as courtier. He returned to Ferrara in 1604, and in 1605 carried the compliments of that now Pontifical city to Paul V. in Rome on his election to the Papacy. Upon this occasion Cardinal Bellarmino told him that he had inflicted as much harm on Christendom by his _Pastor Fido_ as Luther and Calvin by their heresies.

He retorted with a sarcasm which has not been transmitted to us, but which may probably have reflected on the pollution of Christian morals by the Jesuits. In 1612 Guarini died at Venice, whither he was summoned by one of his innumerable and interminable lawsuits.

Bellarmino's censure of the _Pastor Fido_ strikes a modern reader as inexplicably severe. Yet it is certain that the dissolute seventeenth century recognized this drama as one of the most potent agents of corruption. Not infrequent references in the literature of that age to the ruin of families and reputations by its means, warn us to remember how difficult it is to estimate the ethical sensibilities of society in periods remote from our own.[183] In the course of the a.n.a.lysis which I now propose to make of this play, I shall attempt to show how, coming midway between Ta.s.so's _Aminta_ and Marino's _Adone_, and appealing to the dominant musical enthusiasms of the epoch, Guarini's _Pastor Fido_ may have merited the condemnation of far-sighted moralists. Not censurable in itself, it was so related to the sentimental sensuality of its period as to form a link in the chain of enervation which weighed on Italy.

[Footnote 183: _Il Pastor Fido_, per cura di G. Casella (Firenze, Barbera, 1866), p. liv.]

The _Pastor Fido_ is a tragi-comedy, as its author points out with some elaboration in the critical essay he composed upon that species of the drama. The scene is laid in Arcadia, where according to Guarini it was customary to sacrifice a maiden each year to Diana, in expiation of an ancient curse brought upon the country by a woman's infidelity. An oracle has declared that when two scions of divine lineage are united in marriage, and a faithful shepherd atones for woman's faithlessness, this inhuman rite shall cease. The only youth and girl who fulfill these conditions of divine descent are the daughter of t.i.tiro named Amarilli, and Silvio, the son of the high priest Montano. They have accordingly been betrothed. But Silvio is indifferent to womankind in general, and Amarilli loves a handsome stranger, Mirtillo, supposed to be the son of Carino. The plot turns upon the unexpected fulfillment of the prophecy, in spite of the human means which have been blindly taken to secure its accomplishment. Amarilli is condemned to death for suspected misconduct with a lover; and Mirtillo, who has subst.i.tuted himself as victim in her place, is found to be the lost son of Montano. This solution of the intrigue, effected by an anagnorisis like that of the _Oedipus Tyrannus_, supplies a series of dramatic scenes and thrilling situations in the last act. Meanwhile the pa.s.sion of Dorinda for Silvio, and the accident whereby he is brought to return her affection at the moment when his dart has wounded her, form a picturesque underplot of considerable interest. Both plot and underplot are so connected in the main action and so interwoven by links of mutual dependency that they form one richly varied fabric. Regarded as a piece of cunning mechanism, the complicated structure of the _Pastor Fido_ leaves nothing to be desired. In its kind, this pastoral drama is a monumental work of art, glittering and faultless like a polished bas-relief of hard Corinthian bronze. Each motive has been carefully prepared, each situation amply and logically developed. The characters are firmly traced, and sustained with consistency. The cold and eager hunter Silvio contrasts with tender and romantic Mirtillo. Corisca's meretricious arts and systematized profligacy enhance the pure affection of Amarilli. Dorinda presents another type of love, so impulsive that it conquers maidenly modesty.

The Satyr is a creature of rude l.u.s.t, foiled in its brutal appet.i.te by the courtesan Corisca's wiliness. Carino brings the corruption of towns into comparison with the innocence of the country.

In Carino the poet painted his own experience; and here his satire upon the Court of Ferrara is none the less biting because it takes the form of well-weighed and gravely-measured censure, instead of vehement invective. The following lines may serve as a specimen of Guarini's style in this species:--

I' mi pensai che ne' reali alberghi Fossero tanto piu le genti umane, Quant'esse ban piu di tutto quel dovizia, Ond' e l'umanita s n.o.bil fregio.

Ma mi trovai tutto 'l contrario, Uranio.

Gente di nome e di parlar cortese, Ma d'opre scarsa, e di pieta nemica: Gente placida in vista e mansueta, Ma piu del cupo mar tumida e fera: Gente sol d'apparenza, in cui se miri Viso di carita, mente d'invidia Poi trovi, e 'n dritto sguardo animo bieco, E minor fede allor che pin lusinga.

Quel ch'altrove e virtu, quivi e difetto: Dir vero, oprar non torto, amar non finto, Pieta sincera, involabil fede, E di core e di man vita innocente, Stiman d'animo vil, di ba.s.so ingegno, Sciochezza e vanita degna di riso.

L'ingannare, il mentir, la frode, il furto, E la rapina di pieta vest.i.ta, Crescer col danno e precipizio altrui, E far a se dell'altrui biasimo onore, Son le virtu di quella gente infida.

Non merto, non valor, non riverenza Ne d'eta ne di grado ne di legge; Non freno di vergogna, non rispetto Ne d'amor ne di sangue, non memoria Di ricevuto ben; ne, finalmente, Cosa s venerabile o s santa O s giusta esser pu, ch'a quella vasta Cupidigia d'onori, a quella ingorda Fama d'avere, involabil sia.

The _Pastor Fido_ was written in open emulation of Ta.s.so's _Aminta_, and many of its most brilliant pa.s.sages are borrowed from that play. Such, for example, is the Chorus on the Golden Age which closes the fourth act. Such, too, is the long description by Mirtillo of the kiss he stole from Amarilli (act ii. sc. 1). The motive here is taken from _Rinaldo_ (canto v.), and the spirit from _Aminta_ (act i. sc. 2). Guarini's Satyr is a studied picture from the sketch in Ta.s.so's pastoral. The dialogue between Silvio and Linco (act i. sc. 1) with its lyrical refrain:

Lascia, lascia le selve, Folle garzon, lascia le fere, ed ama:

reproduces the dialogue between Silvia and Dafne (act i. sc. 1) with its similar refrain:

Cangia, cangia consiglio, Pazzarella che sei.

In all these instances Guarini works up Ta.s.so's motives into more elaborate forms. He expands the simple suggestions of his model; and employs the artifices of rhetoric where Ta.s.so yielded to inspiration.

One example will suffice to contrast the methods of the spontaneous and the reflective poet. Ta.s.so with divine impulse had exclaimed:

Odi quell'usignuolo, Che va di ramo in ramo Cantando: Io amo, io amo!

This, in Guarini's hands, becomes:

Quell'augellin, che canta Si dolcemente, e lascivetto vola Or dall'abete al f.a.ggio, Ed or dal f.a.ggio al mirto, S'avesse umano spirto, Direbbe: Ardo d'amore, ardo d'amore.

Here a laborious effort of the constructive fancy has been subst.i.tuted for a single flash of sympathetic imagination. Ta.s.so does not doubt that the nightingale is pouring out her love in song. Guarini says that if the bird had human soul, it would exclaim, _Ardo d'amore_. Ta.s.so sees it flying from branch to branch. Guarini teases our sense of mental vision by particularizing pine and beech and myrtle. The same is true of Linco's speech in general when compared with Dafne's on the ruling power of love in earth and heaven.

Of imagination in the true sense of the term Guarini had none. Of fancy, dwelling gracefully, ingeniously, suggestively, upon externals he had plenty. The minute care with which he worked out each vein of thought and spun each thread of sentiment, was that of the rhetorician rather than the poet. Ta.s.so had made Aminta say:

La semplicetta Silvia Pietosa del mio male, S'offri di dar aita Alla finta ferita, ahi la.s.sole fece Piu cupa, e piu mortale La mia piaga verace, Quando le labbra sue Giunse alle labbra mie.

Ne l'api d'alcun fiore Colgan si dolce il sugo, Come fa dolce il mel, ch'allora io colsi Da quelle fresche rose.

Now listen to Guarini's Mirtillo:

Amor si stava, Ergasto, Com'ape suol, nelle due fresche rose Di quelle labbra ascoso; E mentre ella si stette Con la baciata bocca Al baciar della mia Immobile e ristretta, La dolcezza del mel sola gustai; Ma poiche mi s'offerse anch'ella, e porse L'una e l'altra dolcissima sua rosa....

This is enough to ill.u.s.trate Guarini's laborious method of adding touch to touch without augmenting th force of the picture.[184] We find already here the transition from Ta.s.so's measured art to the fantastic prolixity of Marino. And though Guarini was upon the whole chaste in use of language, his rhetorical love of amplification and fanciful refinement not unfrequently betrayed him into Marinistic conceits.

Dorinda, for instance, thus addresses Silvio (act iv. sc. 9):

O bellissimo scoglio Gia dall'onda e dal vento Delle lagrime mie, de'miei sospiri Si spesso invan percosso!

Sighs are said to be (act i. sc. 2):

impetuosi venti Che spiran nell'incendio, e 'l fan maggiore Con turbini d'Amore, Ch' apportan sempre ai miserelli amanti Foschi nembi di duol, piogge di pianti.

From this to the style of the _Adone_ there was only one step to be taken.

[Footnote 184: I might have further ill.u.s.trated this point by quoting the thirty-five lines in which t.i.tiro compares a maiden to the rose which fades upon the spray after the fervors of the noon have robbed its freshness (act i. sc. 4). To contest the beauty of the comparison would be impossible. Yet when we turn to the two pa.s.sages in Ariosto (_Orl.