Renaissance in Italy Volume II Part 24

[Footnote 464: 'When Lorenzo was dead, and Death went by in triumph, drawn by her black horses, her eyes fell on one who madly struck the chords, while sighs convulsed his breast. She turned, and stayed the car; he storms and calls on all the G.o.ds for Lorenzo, mixing tears with prayers, and sorrow with his tears, while sorrow suggests words of wilder freedom. Death laughed; remembering her old grudge, when Orpheus made his way to h.e.l.l, she cried, "Lo, he too seeks to abrogate our laws, and lays his hand upon my rights!" Nor more delay; she struck the poet while he wept, and broke his heart-strings in the middle of his sighs. Alas! thus wast thou taken from us, ravished by harsh fate, Politian, master of the Italian lyre!']

More richly endowed for poetry than Bembo was his fellow-countryman Andrea Navagero. Few Latin versifiers of the Renaissance combined so much true feeling and fancy with a style more pure and natural. Some of his little compositions, half elegy, half idyll, have the grace and freedom of the Greek Anthology.[465] There is a simple beauty in their motives, while the workmans.h.i.+p reminds us of chiselling in smooth waxy marble; unlike the Roman epigrammatists, Navagero avoided pointed terminations.[466] The picture of Narcissus dead and transformed to a flower, in the elegy of 'Acon,' might be quoted as a fair specimen of his manner:--

Magna Parens, quae cuncta leves producis in auras, Totaque diverso germine picta nites; Quae pa.s.sim arboribus, pa.s.sim surgentibus herbis, Sufficis omnifero larga alimenta sinu; Excipe languentem puerum, moribundaque membra, aeternumque tua fac, Dea, vivat ope.

Vivet, et ille vetus Zephyro redeunte quotannis In niveo candor flore perennis erit.[467]

[Footnote 465: Notice especially 'Thyrsidis vota Veneri,' 'Invitatio ad amoenum fontem,' 'Leucippem amicam spe praemiorum invitat,' 'Vota Veneri ut amantibus faveat,' and 'In Almonem.'--_Carmina_, &c. pp. 52, 53, 54, 55.]

[Footnote 466: Paolo Giovio noticed this; in his _Elogia_ he writes, '_Epigrammata non falsis aculeatisque finibus, sed tenera illa et praedulci prisca suavitate claudebat._']

[Footnote 467: 'Mighty mother, thou who bringest all things forth to breathe the liquid air, who s.h.i.+nest in thy painted robe of diverse budding lives, thou who from thy teeming bosom givest nourishment to trees and sprouting herbs in every region of the earth, take to thyself the fainting boy, cherish his dying limbs, and make him live for ever by thy aid. Yes, he shall live; and that white loveliness of his, each year as spring returns, shall blossom in a snowy flower.'--_Carmina_, &c. p. 57.]

The warnings addressed to his mistress in her country rambles, to beware of rustic G.o.ds, and the whole eclogue of 'Iolas,' are written in a rich and facile style, that makes us wonder whether some poet of the Graeco-Roman period did not live again in Navagero.[468] Only here and there, as in the case of all this neo-Latin writing, an awkward word or a defective cadence breaks the spell, and reminds us that it was an artificial thing. A few lines forming the exordium to an unfinished poem on Italy may be inserted here for their intrinsic interest:--

Salve, cura Dem, mundi felicior ora, Formosae Veneris dulces salvete recessus: Ut vos post tantos animi mentisque labores Aspicio, l.u.s.troque libens! ut munere vestro Sollicitas toto depello e pectore curas![469]

[Footnote 468: 'Ad Gelliam rusticantem,' _Carmina_, &c. pp. 64-66.

'Iolas,' _ib._ pp. 66-68.]

[Footnote 469: 'Hail, darling of the G.o.ds, thou happiest spot of earth! hail chosen haunt of beauty's queen! What joy I feel to see you thus again, and tread your sh.o.r.es after so many toils endured in mind and soul! How from my heart by your free gift I cast all anxious cares!'--_Carmina_, &c. p. 84.]

Navagero, we are told, composed these verses on his return from a legation to Spain. Born in 1483, he spent his youth and early manhood in a.s.siduous study. Excessive application undermined his health, and Giovio relates that he began to suffer from _atra bilis_, or the melancholy of scholars. The Venetian Senate had engaged him to compose the history of the Republic in Latin; this work was already begun when illness forced him to abandon it. He was afterwards employed in an unsuccessful mission to Charles V. and in diplomatic business at the Court of France. He died at Blois of fever, contracted in one of his hurried journeys. He was only forty-six when he perished, bequeathing to immediate posterity the fame of a poet at least equal to the ancients. In that age of affectation and effort the natural flow of Navagero's verse, sensuous without coa.r.s.eness and highly coloured without abuse of epithets, raised a chorus of applause that may strike the modern student as excessive. The memorial poems written on his death praise the purity of sentiment and taste which made him burn a copy of Martial yearly to the chaste Muses.[470] One friend calls upon the Nereids to build his tomb by the silent waters of the lagoons, and bids the Faun of Italy lament with broken reeds.[471]

Another prophesies that his golden poems will last as many years as there are flowers in spring, or grapes in autumn, or storms upon the sea, or stars in heaven, or kisses in Catullus, or atoms in the universe of Lucretius.[472]

[Footnote 470: See the Hendecasyllabics of Johannes Matthaeus, _Carmina_, &c. p. 86.]

[Footnote 471: Basilius Zanchius, _Carmina_, &c. p. 85.]

[Footnote 472: M. Antonius Flaminius, _ib._ p. 85.]

A place very close to Navagero might be claimed for Francesco Maria Molsa, a n.o.bleman of Modena, who enjoyed great fame at Rome for his Latin and Italian poetry. After a wild life of pleasure he died at the age of forty-one, worn out with love and smitten by the plague of the Renaissance. The sweetest of his elegies celebrate the charms of Faustina Mancini, his favourite mistress. In spite of what Italians would call their _morbidezza_, it is impossible not to feel some contempt for the polished fluency, the sensual relaxation, of these soulless verses. A poem addressed to his friends upon his sick bed, within sight of certain death, combines the author's melody of cadence with a certain sobriety of thought and tender dignity of feeling.[473]

It is, perhaps, of all his compositions the worthiest to live. The following couplets describe the place which he would choose for his sepulchre:--

Non operosa peto t.i.tulos mihi marmora ponant, Nostra sed accipiat fictilis ossa cadus; Exceptet gremio quae mox placidissima tellus, Immites possint ne nocuisse ferae.

Rivulus haec circ.u.m dissectus obambulet, unda Clivoso qualis tramite ducta sonat; Exiguis stet caesa notis super ossa sepulta, Nomen et his servet parva tabella meum: Hic jacet ante annos crudeli tabe peremptus Molsa; ter injecto pulvere, pastor, abi.

Forsitan in putrem longo post tempore glebam Vertar, et haec flores induet urna novos; Populus aut potius abruptis artubus alba Formosa exsurgam conspicienda coma.

Scilicet huc diti pecoris comitata magistro Conveniet festo pulchra puella die; Quae molles ductet ch.o.r.eas, et veste recincta Ad certos norit membra movere modos.[474]

[Footnote 473: _Poemata Selecta_, pp. 203-206. An elegy written by Ja.n.u.s Etruscus, Pope's _Poemata Italorum_, vol. ii. p. 25, on a similar theme, though very inferior to Molsa's, may be compared with it.]

[Footnote 474: 'I ask for no monument of wrought marble to proclaim my t.i.tles: let a vase of baked clay receive these bones. Let earth, quietest of resting-places, take them to herself, and save them from the injury of ravening wolves. And let a running stream divide its waters round my grave, drawn with the sound of music from a mountain-flank. A little tablet carved with simple letters will be enough to mark the spot, and to preserve my name: "Here lies Molsa, slain before his day by wasting sickness: cast dust upon him thrice, and go thy way, gentle shepherd." It may be that after many years I shall turn to yielding clay, and my tomb shall deck herself with flowers; or, better, from my limbs shall spring a white poplar, and in its beauteous foliage I shall rise into the light of heaven. To this place will come, I hope, some lovely maid attended by the master of the flock; and she shall dance above my bones and move her feet to rhythmic music.']

The Paganism of the Renaissance, exchanging Christian rites for old mythologies, and cla.s.sic in the very tomb, has rarely found sweeter expression than in this death song. We trace in it besides a note of modern feeling, the romantic sense of community with nature in the immortality of trees and flowers.[475]

[Footnote 475: For the picture of the girl dancing on the lover's grave, cf. Omar Khayyam. Cf. too Walt Whitman's metaphor for gra.s.s--'the beautiful uncut hair of graves.']

Castiglione cannot claim comparison with Navagero for sensuous charm and easy flow of verse. Nor has he those touches of genuine poetry which raise Molsa above the level of a fluent versifier. His Latin exercises, however, offer much that is interesting to a student of Renaissance literature; while the depth of feeling and the earnestness of thought in his clear and powerful hexameters surpa.s.s the best efforts of Bembo's artificial muse. When we read the idyll ent.i.tled 'Alcon,' a lamentation for the friend whom he had loved in youth--

Alcon deliciae Musarum et Apollinis, Alcon Pars animae, cordis pars Alcon maxima nostri--[476]

we are impelled to question how far Milton owed the form of 'Lycidas'

to these Italian imitations of the Graeco-Roman style. What seemed false in tone to Johnson, what still renders that elegy the stumbling-block of taste to immature and unsympathetic students, is the highly artificial form given to natural feeling. Grief clothes herself in metaphors, and, abstaining from the direct expression of poignant emotion, dwells on thoughts and images that have a beauty of their own for solace. Nor is it in this quality of art alone that 'Lycidas' reminds us of Renaissance Latin verse. The curious blending of allusions to Church and State with pastoral images is no less characteristic of the Italian manner. As in 'Lycidas,' so also in these lines from Castiglione's 'Alcon,' the truth of sorrow transpires through a thin veil of bucolic romance:--

Heu miserande puer, fatis surrepte malignis!

Non ego te posthac, pastorum adstante corona, Victorem aspiciam volucri certare sagitta; Aut jaculo, aut dura socios superare palaestra.

Non tec.u.m posthac molli resupinus in umbra Effugiam longos aestivo tempore soles: Non tua vicinos mulcebit fistula montes, Docta nec umbrosae resonabunt carmina valles: Non tua corticibus toties inscripta Lycoris, Atque ignis Galatea meus nos jam simul ambos Audierint ambae nostros cantare furores.

Nos etenim a teneris simul usque huc viximus annis, Frigora pertulimusque aestus noctesque diesque, Communique simul sunt parta armenta labore.

Rura mea haec tec.u.m communia; viximus una: Te moriente igitur curnam mihi vita relicta est?

Heu male me ira Dem patriis abduxit ab oris, Ne manibus premerem morientia lumina amicis.[477]

[Footnote 476: 'Alcon, the darling of Phoebus and the Muses; Alcon, a part of my own soul; Alcon, the greatest part of my own heart.'--_Carmina Quinque Poetarum_, p. 89.]

[Footnote 477: 'Alas! poor youth, withdrawn from us by fate malign.

Never again shall I behold thee, while the shepherds stand around, win prizes with thy flying shafts or spear, or wrestle for the crown; never again with thee reclining in the shade shall I all through a summer's day avoid the sun. No more shall thy pipe soothe the neighbouring hills, the vales repeat thy artful songs. No more shall thy Lycoris, whose name inscribed by thee the woods remember, and my Galatea hear us both together chaunt our loves. For we like brothers lived our lives till now from infancy: heat and cold, days and nights, we bore; our herds were reared with toil and care together. These fields of mine were also thine: we lived one common life. Why, then, when thou must die, am I still left to live? Alas! in evil hour the wrath of Heaven withdrew me from my native land, nor suffered me to close thy lids with a friend's hands!'--_Carmina_, &c. p. 91.]

Castiglione's most polished exercises are written on fict.i.tious subjects in elegiac metre. Thus he feigns a letter from his wife, in the style of the 'Heroidum Epistolae,' praying him to beware of Rome's temptations, and to keep his heart for her.[478] Again he warns his mistress to avoid the perils of the sea-beach, where the Tritons roam:--

Os informe illis, rictus, oculique minaces, Asperaque anguineo cortice membra rigent: Barba impexa, ingens, alga limoque virenti Oblita, oletque gravi lurida odore coma.[479]

[Footnote 478: _Ib._ p. 100.]

[Footnote 479: 'Hideous is their face, their grinning mouth, their threatening eyes, and their rough limbs are stiff with snaky scales; their beard hangs long and wide, uncombed, tangled with sea-weed and green ooze, and their dusky hair smells rank of brine.'--_Ib._ p.

103.]

In these couplets we seem to read a transcript from some fresco of Mantegna or Julio Romano. Two long elegies are devoted to the theme of marine monsters, and the tale of Hippolytus is introduced to clinch the poet's argument. Among Castiglione's poems of compliment, forming a pleasant ill.u.s.tration to his book of the 'Courtier,' may be mentioned the lines on 'Elisabetta Gonzaga singing.'[480] Nor can I omit the most original of his elegies, written, or at least conceived, in the camp of Julius before Mirandola.[481] Walking by night in the trenches under the beleaguered walls, Castiglione meets the ghost of Lodovico Pico, who utters a lamentation over the wrongs inflicted on his city and his race. The roar of cannon cuts short this monologue, and the spectre vanishes into darkness with a groan. During his long threnody the prince of Mirandola apostrophises the warlike Pope in these couplets:--

O Pater, O Pastor populorum, O maxime mundi Arbiter, humanum qui genus omne regis; Just.i.tiae pacisque dator placidaeque quietis, Credita cui soli est vita salusque hominum; Quem Deus ipse Erebi fecit Coelique potentem, Ut nutu pateant utraque regna tuo![482]

[Footnote 480: 'De Elisabetta Gonzaga canente,' _Carmina_, &c. p. 97.

Cf. Bembo's 'Ad Lucretiam Borgiam,' _ib._ p. 14, on a similar theme.]

[Footnote 481: _Ib._ p. 95.]

[Footnote 482: 'O father, O shepherd of the nations, O great master of the world who rulest all the human race, giver of justice, peace, and tranquil ease; thou to whom alone is committed the life and salvation of men, whom G.o.d Himself made lord of h.e.l.l and heaven, that either realm might open at thy nod.']

When the spiritual authority of the Popes came thus to be expressed in Latin verse, it was impossible not to treat them as deities. The temptation to apply to them the language of Roman religion was too great; the double opportunity of flattering their vanity as Pontiffs, and their ears as scholars, was too attractive to be missed. In another place Castiglione used the following phrases about Leo:--

Nec culpanda tua est mora, nam praecepta Deorum Non fas, nec tutum est spernere velle homini: Esse tamen fertur clementia tanta Leonis Ut facili humanas audiat ore preces.[483]

[Footnote 483: 'I do not blame thee for delaying thy return, since neither is it safe nor right for man to set at naught a G.o.d's command; and yet so great is Leo's kindness said to be that he inclines a ready ear to human prayers.'--_Ib._ p. 102.]

Navagero called Julius II. _novus ex alto demissus Olympo Deus_ (a new G.o.d sent down from heaven to earth), and declared that the people of Italy, in thanksgiving for his liberation of their country from the barbarians, would pay him yearly honours with prayer and praise:--

Ergo omnes, veluti et Phoebo Panique, quotannis Pastores certis statuent tibi sacra diebus, Magne Pater; nostrisque diu cantabere silvis.

Te rupes, te saxa, cavae te, Maxime Juli, Convalles, nemorumque frequens iterabit imago.

At vero nostris quaec.u.mque in saltibus usquam Quercus erit, ut quaeque suos dant tempora flores, Semper erit variis ramos innexa coronis; Inscriptumque geret felici nomine trunc.u.m.

Tum quoties pastum expellet, pastasve reducet Nostrum aliquis pecudes; toties id mente revolvens Ut liceat, factum esse tuo, Pater optime, ductu; Nullus erit, qui non libet tibi lacte recenti, Nullus erit qui non teneros tibi nutriat agnos.

Quin audire preces nisi dedignabere agrestes, Tu nostra ante Deos in vota vocaberis omnes.