"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.