A Manual of Italian Literature

by Francis Henry Cliffe

Pietro Trapassi was born in Rome on the third of January, 1698. His parents were of humble origin, and he was apprenticed to a goldsmith. He was gifted by nature with a musical voice, and he soon attracted attention, not only by repeating the verses of others, but by improvising verses of his own. A literary man of those days, Gian Vincenzo Gravina, was among those who were interested in the infant prodigy, and so high an opinion did he form of the youth's natural abilities, that he decided to educate him and to start him in life. Never did a benefactor bestow his kindness on a worthier object. Gravina changed the boy's name from Trapassi to Metastasio, and not only taught him Greek and Latin, but also introduced him to the study of the law, in which he himself was a proficient. In his will, he left his protégé fifteen thousand scudi, that he might have leisure to cultivate his intellectual gifts.

Unfortunately, Metastasio was but young, and his sudden accession to fortune turned his head. The fifteen thousand scudi were soon spent in the company of friends who deserted him the moment they discovered that he was no longer able to entertain them as before. He awoke from his dream of prosperity, and found himself solitary and neglected in the vast wilderness of Rome. To add to his misfortunes, Pope Clement XI had become prejudiced against him by the extravagance of his conduct. He saw that there was no opening for him in Rome, and he determined to fall back upon his legal knowledge and to enter the office of a notary at Naples.

Italian Opera was beginning its brilliant career at that epoch, and Metastasio had, when in Rome, written a drama for music which had obtained much applause. A Neapolitan manager, on the look out for a libretto, heard that the young Roman poet was in the town, and commissioned him to write a work for his theatre. Metastasio produced Gli Orti Esperidi. It was brilliantly successful. The celebrated singer, Marianna Bulgarelli, surnamed "La Romanina," appeared as Venus, and a life-long friendship was begun between her and the poet. His next work, Didom Abbandonata, was an even greater triumph, and, wonderful for chose days, the poet derived handsome pecuniary profit from his success. He was able in time to pay off his debts and to return to Rome. Here he took Holy Orders, and was henceforth known as the Abbé Metastasio.

The Emperor Charles VI was a passionate lover of music, and kept not only an Italian company in Vienna, but also an Italian poet to write the words of the operas which his favourite composers received orders to set to music. The poet was entitled "Poeta Cesareo," and enjoyed a liberal stipend. The post was occupied by Apostolo Zeno, a Venetian, who, on retiring by reason of advancing years, recommended the brilliant Metastasio as his successor. Accordingly, in 1730, Metastasio set out for Vienna, and although he lived for fifty-two years longer, he never returned to his native country.

His old friend, Marianna Bulgarelli, died some years after he had gone to Austria, and she left him a large part of her considerable fortune. But he refused to accept it, as he was of opinion that it ought to have gone to her husband, to whom, accordingly, it was handed over.

Metastasio is the only writer of librettos whose works have risen to the dignity of a classic. Indeed, they are still remembered when the composers who set them to music have sunk into oblivion. Some of his dramas seem to have been used by several composers in succession, and one, La Clemenza di Tito, produced in Vienna for the first time with the music of Caldara on the fourth of November, 1734, was many years afterwards used by the illustrious Mozart.

The highest favour of the Imperial family was bestowed upon Metastasio during the reign of Charles VI, and was continued by the Empress Maria Theresa and her son, Joseph II. It was only natural that he should feel the most intense loyalty in return, and when the House of Hapsburg suffered cruel reverses in the War of the Austrian Succession, and later on, in the Seven Years' War, he sympathised acutely with his Imperial mistress.

Alfieri tells us in his Memoirs that he might have had an introduction to Metastasio during his stay in Vienna, but that he saw him one day in the park at Schönbrunn making the customary obeisance to Maria Theresa with an air of such cheerful adulation, that he conceived the most supreme contempt for so servile a poet. But surely this is carrying independence to the verge of churlishness. If Metastasio had not reason to show his gratitude, who had? And the most ardent opponent of tyranny must own that Maria Theresa had qualities that give her a lofty rank among the monarchs, not only of her own century, but of those past and to come.

Metastasio lived in uninterrupted prosperity in Vienna for half a century, and when he died on the twelfth of April, 1782, he was universally regretted in the country of his adoption and in that of his birth. He amassed a handsome fortune of one hundred thousand florins, which he left to the family of the Councillor Martinez, with whom he had resided since he first came to Vienna.

The popularity of Metastasio's works during his lifetime was unbounded. He is of all Italian poets the easiest for a foreigner to understand. In consideration for the composers, he only selected those words that most readily lent themselves to the purpose of singing. Thus his vocabulary is somewhat limited, and he has a tendency to repeat the same imagery. The construction of his phrases is simplicity itself, and he offers no obscure passages for the reader to solve. He is neither very profound nor very picturesque; he is essentially musical. But he had a beautiful mind, and his tenderness and pathos have the qualities of freshness and purity. The dialogue of his dramas, though musical in versification, is not striking in substance, but every character of importance, before leaving the stage, or at the end of an act, is given a song, and it is by virtue of these glorious songs that Metastasio continues to charm us even at the present day. They are so musical that they positively sing themselves. They are so clear and pointed in expression, that they easily impress themselves upon the memory. He takes his plots from Ancient History and from Mythology, and for his Oratorios, from the Bible. The local colouring is not always very vivid, and we see too often the powdered hair and the red heels of the age of Rococo. But the stories have plenty of spirit and human interest, and if heroes like Titus and Cæsar sigh too much in the manner of love-lorn swains, they do so in lines so melodious that pardon cannot be withheld. An exquisite selection could be made from the songs in Metastasio's operas, in which we find thoughts tender, beautiful and ingenious, expressed in language delightfully spontaneous, fresh and emphatic. The meaning is so linked with the music of the verse, and that music is so peculiar to the Italian language, that the subtle charm of the original would evaporate in translation.