WERE the lettered court of Duke Federigo to be judged by its minstrels, a harsh sentence might perhaps be awarded. Nor would this be quite fair. Their cold and common-place ideas, their rude and vapid verses, are indeed far beneath the standard of our fastidious age, and scarcely repay those who decipher them in venerable parchments. Yet have we ample evidence of their superiority to many poetasters of Italy, who then emulated Virgil's hexameters, or abused the facilities of their vernacular versification; and it is just the fact of these laureates of Urbino so long surviving the countless rhymers of other principalities, that proves the discriminating patronage of a sovereign, who attached to his court the best writers of his time. Nor must we fail to remember that the now prominent blemishes of their works were then their most admired qualities. The classical sympathies which we usually leave in schools and colleges, or which, when carried prominently about us in the busy world are stigmatised as a pedantic and ungraceful encumbrance, were then in high fashion. They were indispensable to the man of liberal education as his sword and buckler to the soldier; they were adopted among the conventional elements of all literature, poetry, and taste. A standard being thus set up so antipathic to the ideas of our practical age, we are called upon, before proceeding to judgment, to divest ourselves of prejudices which may in their turn become the marvel and ridicule of our posterity.

The inherent defects of that minstrelsy,

"Whose melody gave ease to Petrarch's wounds,"

have been aptly set forth by Roscoe, but he appears to overlook its special adaptation for the Italian tongue. Limited to one theme, which it is required to exhaust in a fixed number of lines, and fettered by the frequent and stated recurrence of a few rhymes, no language less copious and pliant can be woven into a sonnet, without occasionally betraying, in bald, formal, or rugged versification, the torture to which it has been subjected. Again, the constraint and mannerism which often deform this metrical composition in other idioms are here its safeguard from a mellifluous but insipid verbiage, so often fatal to the lyrics of Italy: on a poetry habitually turgid and redundant, terseness is thus absolutely imposed.

With these few words of apology for doggerel hexameters and indifferent sonnets, we shall shortly pass in review some of those who thus wooed the muses in the Montefeltrian court.

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Among the most widely known names of this age was Francesco Filelfo, whose venal pen often wantoned in biting lampoons, whose sickening vanity was obtruded in the most repulsive egotism, and whose vagrant habits strangely combined assiduous study with lax morals. In most respects he anticipated the bad notoriety acquired a century later by Pietro Aretino, and like him alternately fawned upon and flagellated princely patrons of literature. Were his life to be written, it would be difficult to extract truth by balancing his own self-vaunting letters against the scurrilous philippics of his untiring enemy Poggio Bracciolini. But we are fortunately spared this task, and may refer to Tiraboschi, Roscoe, and Shepherd for illustrations of his restless existence and fractious temper.[82] In both these respects Gian Maria,[*83] the son, seems to have resembled Francesco the father, whilst he even exceeded him in the number and variety of his compositions. He sought audiences in many cities of Italy and Provence for his prelections in grammar and philosophy, as well as for his improvisations of Latin or Italian verse; and among the numerous patrons he thus courted was the good King RenÉ, who bestowed on him the laurel crown, a guerdon which his rude numbers ill-deserved at the hands of that graceful troubadour. Tiraboschi makes no allusion to his intercourse with Duke Federigo, whereof we know little beyond two works which he inscribed to that Prince, and which remain unedited in the Vatican Urbino Library. The former of these, dated at Modena in 1464, was corrected by the author, "doctor in arts and both faculties of law, knight, and poet laureat," he being then in his thirty-eighth year. It is numbered 702, and contains about two thousand five hundred Latin hexameters and pentameters, entitled Martiados, an obvious imitation of his father's Sfortiados. The theme is thus set forth in a dedication to the Duke of Urbino:—

"Primus et in Martem quÆ sint pia fata Tonantis, Et manibus nati monstra parenta refert; At liber et bellis laudatque et honore secundus, Et gestis magnum rebus in orbe Ducem."

The very moderate anticipations raised by this proemium, which we leave in its rugged original, are not surpassed in the context, dull and common-place as it is in sentiment, prosaic and unpolished in style. Losing sight of his avowed object of keeping apart the deeds of Mars, the ancient divinity, from those of Federigo, his living type, in order to illustrate the parallel which it is his plan to draw between them, he strangely jumbles both; and, following the new-born classicism of the day, he has crammed his rough verses with nearly every name that heathen mythology, history, or geography can muster, in senseless and jarring confusion. With a view to exalt his hero as a second Hercules, he enumerates a series of labours and achievements from his childhood, when he sprang from bed and strangled a snake that had frightened all his attendants. This is followed by a farrago of allegorical struggles, combats, and triumphs over temptations or evil principles, anticipating somewhat the idea of the Pilgrim's Progress, but with this important difference, that the motives, arms, and aids are all borrowed from pagan mythology. So entirely is Federigo lost among the gods and demigods who crowd the stage, that his character or actions are seldom brought on the foreground at all, and never with sufficient idiosyncracy to avail for the development of either. Finally, we find him deified in Olympus, and the epic closes with an empty bravado that none ever more worthily emulated Alcides.

The other MS. of Gian Maria Filelfo which demands a passing note is No. 804 of the same library, and is dated seven years later than the Martiados. It contains some six thousand Italian verses, consisting for the most part of minor poems on a variety of subjects; the volume is dedicated to Federigo, but many of the Canzoni morali are inscribed to distinguished personages, not omitting the Duke's rancorous foe Sigismondo Pandolfo Malatesta, to whose vanity such incense could not have been unpalatable. In treating of religious topics, the author, for the time, and by an effort, lays aside the pagan strain which prevails in his other lays, and though generally selecting the sonnet or terza rima, he thus affects to disclaim all rivalry with their mighty masters:—

"To these rude rhymes, alas, nor Petrarch's style Is given, nor the good Dante's pungent file."

Yet there is considerable ambition in the rhythm, and although prolix, like other contemporary compositions, and inflated by superabundant episodes, it is not devoid of occasional poetic feeling. In the dedicatory address he thus speaks of his volume:—

"De! dunque Signor mio, per tua merciede Con lieta fronte schorri esto libretto, Il qual sotto il tuo titolo honor chiede. Forse leggiendol' ne fia alcun dilecto, Per esser di molte herbe uno orticciuolo, Quantunque el vi sia dentro erro e diffecto: Pur che 'l non sia di tutto il vano orciuolo Col qual l'aqua si tira, da le donne Che feciono ai mariti si gran duolo. Ogni casa non È posta in colonne; Ognuno esser non puÒ Dante o Patrarcha; Ognun non porta pretiose gonne. Ma spesse volte piccoletta barcha Arriva in luoco, ove andando s'anniegha Tal grossa nave che molto È men charcha. De! s'al huom val quanto il Signor piÙ priegha, China la fronte altiera a questa scorza, Ch'in questo mio arbor del pieta non niegha. Et come il navichare hor poggia, hor orza, Hor pope avvien, secondo i venti e l'onde Cosi convien ch'in vario error mi torza. Hor la mia voglia la ragion confonde, Hor l'appetito impera, hor vivo in doglia, Hor lieto, hor desioso, et non so donde. Qual l'autunno ogni verde arbor spoglia, Inverno asciugha, e primavera inverde, Tal varia e nostra externa et mental voglia. Ma tristo chiunque indarno il tempo perde, Ch'È peggio ch'esser rozzo e senza lima, PerÒ che chi non È mai non riverde. De! leggi, Signor mio, la vulghar ryma, Et sia ti un modo da cacciar la noia, Quando di gran facciende hai maggior stima."

As we shall give a place in our Appendix to Giovanni Sanzi's judgment upon the painters of his day, we may here insert Filelfo's sonnet to Gentile Bellini.

"Bellin! s'io t'hebbi mai fitto nel cuore, Se mai chognobbi it tuo preclaro ingiegno, Hor confess'io che sei fra gli altri degno, D'haver qual hebbe Apelle ogni alto honore. Veduta ho l'opra tua col suo cholore, La venustÀ col suo sguardo benegno, Ogni suo movimento et nobil segno Che ben demonstri il tuo gientil valore. Gientile! io t'ero affectionato assai, Parendomi la tua virtu piÙ rara Che soglia esser l'ucciel che È solo al mondo; Ne pingier sa chi da te non impara, Che gloria a quegli antiqui hormai tolta hai, In chi questa arte postha ogni suo pondo. Forsse che troppo habondo A te che non ti churi di tue lode, Ma diciendone assai l'alma mia ghode."

When compared with contemporary efforts, these specimens, and others which it would be easy to add, deserve a better fate than the neglect to which, in common with most of their author's works, they have been consigned; nor do they bear out the imputation of careless haste, alleged by Tiraboschi as the prevailing error of his very numerous and various productions. The paucity of these which have issued from the press may, however, be taken as confirming that judgment, as well as the suppression of his narrative of the campaign of Finale in 1447, after it had been printed by Muratori for his Scriptores. But poetry may be accounted his forte,—a somewhat remarkable circumstance, considering the unrivalled reputation he established as an improvisatore of verses on any number not exceeding one hundred themes suddenly proposed, as such facility has rarely been conjoined with true poetic fire.

It were to be desired that we knew more of his intercourse with Duke Federigo. In one of his dedicatory epistles, after alluding to the likelihood of that prince reading the work, he, in a vein of fulsome compliment and impudent conceit, complains of neglect from friends, and hints at a visit to Urbino. It is difficult to glean facts from the vague common-places of such letters; but in 1468 he thanks his patron for retaining at his court Demetrio Castreno, a learned Greek fugitive from Constantinople. Equally mannered and cold are his flattery and his condolence, on the death of Countess Battista in 1472. Next year he writes that, having begun a commentary on Federigo's life, and completed two books, he had been induced to submit them to the Duke of Milan, from whom he never could recover the manuscript.

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Another protÉgÉ of Duke Federigo was Porcellio Pandonio, of Naples,[*84] whose pen was ever at command of the readiest patron, as historiographer or laureate. From his partiality to the designations of bard and secretary to Alfonso of Naples, it would seem that he chiefly rested his fame on his poetical compositions. From this judgment Muratori differs, protesting that in historical narrative none excelled his ease and elegance of diction.[85] Abject classicism, in thought and style, was then a common weakness of the learned; and however correctly Porcellio may have caught the Latin phraseology, it is difficult to get over the jarring effect of an idiom and nomenclature foreign to the times and incidents which it is his object vividly to portray. In his printed work, on the campaigns of 1451-2, between Venice and Milan, he uniformly disguises Sforza and Piccinino, their respective commanders, as Scipio and Hannibal, under which noms de guerre it requires a constant effort to recognise mediÆval warriors, or to recollect that we are considering events dating some two thousand years after those who really bore them had been committed to the dust. The same affectation, common to many authors of his day, mars his unpublished writings which we have had occasion to examine in the Vatican Urbino Library, and their authority is greatly impaired by what Muratori well calls "prodigality of praise" to his heroes, that is, to his generous patrons. In a beautifully elaborated MS. (No. 373) he has collected, under the title of Epigrams, nearly fifty effusions in honour of our Duke and Duchess, and of members of their family or court, a favourite theme being the love-inspired longings of Battista for her lord's return from the wars. In the same volume is his Feltria, an epic composed at Rome about 1472, and narrating Federigo's campaigns, from that of 1460-1, under the banner of Pius II., by whose command Porcellio undertook to sing his general's prowess in three thousand Virgilian verses. Its merits may be fairly appreciated from extracts already given,[86] and from this allusion to the state of Italy at the outbreak of the war:—

"Jamque erat AusoniÆ populos pax alta per omnes, Et tranquilla quies: jam nulli Martis ad aras Collucent ignes; jam victima nulla cadebat. Dantur thura Jovi; fumabat oliva MinervÆ: Sus erat in pretio, Cereris aptissima sacris, Pampineique dei caper, et qui vitibus amens Officit, atque merum ante aras cum sanguine fundit."

Such were the foreign poets who frequented Duke Federigo's court. Its native bards left few works meriting particular notice, with one interesting exception. We have elsewhere to discuss Giovanni Sanzi or Santi,[*87] of Urbino, his merits as a painter, and the celebrity reflected on him from the eminence of his son, the unequalled Raffaele. Here we shall speak of his epic on that Duke's life, of which we have made frequent use in our first volume, and which demands attention on account of its excellence, as well as from the intimate connection with our subject of its author and theme.

This poem, having remained unedited in the Vatican arcana, long escaped the literary historians of the Peninsula, but it has been recently quoted by two writers, Pungileone and Passavant, the former of whom had not seen it.[88] Although, in his dedication to Duke Guidobaldo, composed after 1490, the author accounts for his becoming a painter, as we shall see in chapter xxviii., he gives no further explanation of the motives which inspired the labour of a poem, containing some twenty-four thousand lines, than "that after anxious thought and consideration of such new ideas as offered themselves, I wished to sing in this little used style of terza rima, the story of your most excellent and most renowned father's glorious deeds," whose "brilliant reputation not only was and is well known throughout Italy, but is, if I may say so, the subject of discourse beyond the Caucasus," "not without a conscious blush at the idea of dipping so mean a vessel in the water of this limpid and sparkling spring." With equal modesty, he deprecates all rivalry with the learned commentators who had celebrated the same theme in Latin, limiting the ambition of his "rude and brief compend" to rendering its interest accessible to more ordinary readers; but, looking back upon his twenty-three ample cantos, he fervently thanks the Almighty that an undertaking of so extended time and toil had at length attained its termination, and concludes by "humbly beseeching that you will regard the hero's far-famed actions, rather than the baseness of my style, whose only grace is the sincere devotion of a faithful servant to his lord." A similar tone marks the outset of his Chronicle:—

"If e'er in by-gone times a shallow mind Shrank from the essay of a grand design, So quake I in the labour-pangs of fear."

Compared with contemporary epics, the rhythm is smooth and flowing, and the style dignified, interspersed with highly poetical episodes and finely expressed moral reflections as well as apt illustrations from ancient history and mythology. The epithets, though abundant, are more than usually appropriate, and many terse maxims are happily introduced. Yet, in his object of placing his poem and his hero among the popular literature of the day, Giovanni must have failed, the Vatican MS. being the only known copy. Readers it, however, doubtless had, one of whom has curiously commemorated his admiration by jotting on the margin, "Were you but as good a painter as a poet, who knows!" Modern critics, contrasting his fresco at Cagli with the rhyming Chronicle, would probably arrive at an inverse conclusion, especially were they to pronounce upon the latter from the preamble which called forth that exclamation—an allegorical vision, told in nine weary chapters, wherein figure a motley crowd of mythological and heroic personages belonging to ancient and contemporary times.

It would occasion much useless repetition to enter here into any detailed analysis of the work, as we have formerly drawn upon its most valuable portions for the history of Duke Federigo. When considering the state of the fine arts, we shall have to notice a very important part of the poem touching upon that subject—an Æsthetic episode on the art and artists of his day, which is introduced on occasion of the Duke's visit to Federigo I., Marquis of Mantua. In regard to the merit of this epic, due allowance must be made for the taste of the age. Its great length necessarily infers a tediousness of detail much more adapted to prose than verse, indeed inherently prosaic. Yet it contains not a few continuous passages of sustained beauty, and it would not be difficult to cull many a sparkling thought and bright simile, while from time to time the dull narrative is enlivened by lyric touches and strokes of poetic fancy, adorning sentiments creditable to the genius and the heart of its author, who, with much sweetness of disposition, appears to have possessed endowments beyond his humble sphere. His patriotic indignation at the ceaseless broils and strifes which convulsed his fatherland may supply us with an example or two:—

"Ma non potendo Italia in pace stare Sotto lunga quiete, o mai, parendo Putrida vile e maricia diventare." No long repose Ausonia e'er can brook, For peace to her brings languor, and she deems It loathsome to lie fallow. "Cum qual costum, che Italia devora, Del sempre stare in gran confusione, Disjunta et seperata, e disiare L'un stato al altro sua destructione." Sad is the usage that Italia wastes In ceaseless struggles, aye for separate ends; Sever'd her states, and each on others' ills Intent. "O mischinella Italia! in te, acecata e disunita Hor per dollor, te batte ogni mascella." Ah, poor and wretched Italy! all blind And disunited, chattering thy jaws In torments sad. "O instabil fortuna! che fai secco Ogni arbor verde, quando te impiacere, In un momento." Ah fickle fortune! which the greenest tree Mayst in a moment wither at thy will.

The following sentiments were likely to find little sympathy among his contemporaries:—

"Il sfrenato desio che nel cor tiene Di nuova signoria e altrui dominio L'huom mai si satia; e pur morir conviene." Man ne'er his soul's unbridled lust can slake Of further sovereignty, and wider sway; Yet 'tis appointed him to die. "Che el facto d'arme se devea fare Sol per due cose, e l'altre lassar gire: L'uno È per lo avantagio singolare E grande oltra misura; e in caso extremo Si deve l'huomo a la fortuna dare." Twain are the pleas that justly may be urged For armed aggression,—aggrandisement great Beyond all calculation, or extreme Necessity: nought else can justify Such hazard of men's fortunes.

A long and somewhat tedious chapter of moralities on the uncertain tenure of life among princes, introduced after describing the assassination of Galeazzo Maria Duke of Milan, in 1476, opens finely:—

"Vedendo il breve e vil peregrinare Che noi facciam per questo falso mondo, Anzi un pugno di terra al ver narrare, Dove, con tanto afanno e tanto pondo, De dÌ e nocte, e inextimabil cure, Cerchiam sallire in alto e andamo al fondo. Qual e quel si potente che asicure Ogi la vita sua per l'altro giorno, Tante son spesse et orende le sciagure?" Seeing how brief the pilgrimage and vile, Whereby through this false world we wend our way, A little earth our only heritage, Where day and night, with pain and load of care Incalculable, still we seek to soar, Yet ever downward sink: where is the man Potent to day, to-morrow's life to count, So frequent its mishaps and horrible?

The bland transition from a rigorous winter to balmy Italian spring is thus apostrophised:—

"Intanto el verno El mondo gia copria col fredo smalto; E raro volte fu che el tempo iberno Tanto terribile fusse, onde asvernarsi Tucti ne andar, per fin che del inferno Proserpina torno, per adornarsi De vaghi fiori e de novelle fronde, Cum lauree chiome al vento dolce sparsi." Winter meanwhile the far-spread world had clad In cold enamel; rarely was it known More rigid: gladly all the troops retired To quarters, waiting Proserpine's return On earth, with beauteous flowers bedecked, and leaves Of freshest green, when in the gentle breeze Should stream her laurel tresses.

The poet's eloquent tribute to Florentine freedom, and its value to the cause of liberty, must close our sparing extracts.[89]

"Perche privato el popul Fiorentino Della sua libertade, era cavare Un occhio a Italia, e metterla al declino." For to curtail fair Florence of her freedom Were to pluck forth an eye from Italy, And cause her orb to wane.

In Sanzi's Chronicle we seek in vain for the riper beauties of succeeding epics; but the flashes of poetry which it embodies are not the less effective from their simple diction, nor from the comparatively unpolished narrative which they adorn.

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No. 699 of the Urbino MSS. contains the collected minor poems and songs of Angelo Galli of Urbino, knight, and secretary to Duke Federigo. They are three hundred and seventy-six in number, all in Italian, and unedited, but beautifully transcribed on vellum by Federigo Veterani. Although varied by the introduction of sacred subjects, most of them are occasional amorous effusions, wherein names of the Montefeltri, Malatesta, Sforza, and other Umbrian families frequently occur. The dates affixed to them extend from 1428 to 1457. It appears that the author attended the Council of Basle in 1442, and he is said by Crescimbeni to have survived until 1496. His mellowed versification is in general superior to that of the age, while his trite and limited matter is pleasingly relieved by many happy turns of thought and graces of language. Though unable to supply any particulars of one who has almost escaped notice, we give place to two specimens of his muse. His canzonet addressed to Caterina, "the noble, beautiful, discreet, charming, gentle, and generous Countess of Urbino," runs thus:

"El mirabil splendor del tuo bel viso Pusilanimo famme, a tanta parte Che l'ingegno in tal carte Non tangeria, s'il ver ch'io non errasse. Forsa che la natura in paradiso Per aiuto sali ad informarte, E poi per divin arte A gloria de se eterna giÙ te trasse. Qual oro si micante s'aguagliasse Cum sua chiareza a tui biondi capegli! E gli occhi, ch'a vede gli L'invidia affreccia el sol a ricolcarse. Qual perle, qual coragli, al riso breve! Le guance han sangue, spirto in bianca neve!"

The other is upon Costanza Varana, wife of Alessandro Sforza, and mother of Battista Countess of Urbino.

"Che la sua faccia bella Mostro d'inverno sempre primavera, Real costume, aspetto di signora, Viso di dea e d'angioli a favella. Ma questa donna, ch'a la mente diva, Depinge di honestÀ omne suo gesto: Non pur suo guardo honesto, Ma li suo panni, gridan' pudicitia. Questa madonna È el mar' de tutto el senno Renchiuso, e posto dentro da bel ciglio, Chi vuol vecchio consiglio Recinga ai teneri anni di costei. Mille viole e fiore Sparge sopra la neve el suo bel viso; E dolce del suo riso Faria piatoso Silla a la vendetta, E spontaria de Giove omne saetta."

Federigo Veterani has been repeatedly mentioned as a transcriber of MSS. for Duke Federigo, whom he also served as librarian and secretary, besides being one of the judges at Urbino. Those who have had occasion to examine the library formed by that prince, are well acquainted with his beautiful autograph, and might imagine his whole life to have been spent upon its fair volumes. One of them, containing the Triumphs of Petrarch, No. 351, is subscribed by him, with a memorandum that it was the last of about sixty volumes he had written out before the death of Federigo, which he thus deplores:—

"Fedrico Veterano fui, che scripse Questo e molti altri, cum justa mercede, Usando diligentia, amore et fede Al Duca Federigo in sin ch'el vixe: Le cui memorie sempre al mondo fixe Sonno e seranno; e ben certo si crede, Mentre sta el mondo e la natura in pede Ch'ogni virtÙ dal cielo in lui venisse. Quello mi piango, e mai ho 'l viso asciutto; Quel chiamo, quel mi sogno, e quel mi stringo Ai labri, sculpto in cara tavletta; La qual, cosÌ machiata del mio lucto, Adoro, honoro in verso, e vivo el fingo, Per lenimento di mia vita abiecta."[90]

But, in addition to his miscellaneous avocations, Veterani was a copious versifier. Besides an epic, De Progenie Domus FeretranÆ, there are other volumes of poetry, apparently his, remaining unedited in the library,[91] of which he continued custodian until the reign of Francesco Maria I. One of those beautiful manuscripts, the fair vellum and gem-like illuminations of which have been the theme of many a eulogy, contains the collected verses of Cristoforo Landini and six other less-known poets of the fifteenth century. On the concluding page, in a trembling and blotted hand, we read these touching lines, the tribute of its lettered scribe to the temporary eclipse of his sovereign's dynasty:[92]—

"1517.

"Federicus Veteranus, Urbinas Bibliothecarius, ad Rei Memoriam.

"Ne careat lacrymis liber hic, post fata Feretri, Hic me subscripsi, cumque dolore gravi. Hunc ego jamdudum Federicus, stante Feretro, Transcripsi, (gratus vel fuit ille mihi Quem modo vel semper fas est lugere parentem, Et dominum qui me nutriit,) atque diu Pagina testis erit, lacrymis interlita multis, HÆc tibi, qui moesta hÆc carmina pauca legis. Et si dissimilis conclusit littera librum, Scriptorem ignarum me dolor ipse facit."

Among the minor fry slumbering unknown in the Vatican Library is Urbani of Urbino, who left a few rude elegiac and complimentary ditties in Latin or Italian upon members of the Montefeltrian line, and compiled a confused account of their pedigree. We may also name Antonio Rustico of Florence, whose Panegiricon Comitis Federici, dedicated to him in 1472, contains above seven hundred Italian lines of terza rima, unpolished in style, and in matter a mere tissue of fatiguing verbiage. Scarcely more valuable is Naldio's account of the Volterran campaign of 1572 in Latin verse, to which we have vainly had recourse for new information on that obscure passage of our memoirs.[93]

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While enumerating in our twenty-first chapter the celebrities of Duke Guidobaldo's court, we mentioned Bernardo Accolti, and endeavoured to explain the inadequacy of his published works to sustain his contemporary reputation, by supposing that his strength lay in extemporÉ recitation. The high place which his vanity claimed, in assuming "the Unique" as a surname, appears to have been freely accorded by the most able of his contemporaries. Ariosto says of him, not perhaps without a sneer at his notorious conceit,—

"The cavalier amid that band, whom they So honour, unless dazzled in mine eye By those fair faces, is the shining light Of his Arezzo, and Accolti hight."[94]

Castiglione assigns him a prominent rank among the Urbino stars, whilst Bembo and Pietro Aretino testify to his merits. We, however, would try these by his surviving works, which, as Roscoe observes, are fatal to his reputation, and which are indeed rather a beacon than a model to succeeding genius. It is, therefore, unnecessary to pause upon them, or to add here to our previous notice of their author and his position at the Montefeltrian court. Nor was Accolti the only poetaster who attained in that polished circle, or in other Italian courtlets, a celebrity from which posterity has withheld its seal. A solution of this success may perhaps be found in the circumstance that many of these owed it either to personal popularity or to their musical accomplishments. Thus Serafino d'Aquila, who either improvisÉed his verses, or chanted them to his own accompaniment on the lute, was generally preferred to Petrarch. He died at thirty-four, in 1500, after being sought by all the petty sovereigns from Milan to Naples, and ere two generations had passed away his poetry was utterly forgotten. So, too, Agostino Staccoli of Urbino, whose sonnets delighted Duke Federigo, and obtained for him a diplomatic mission to Rome in 1485, has been long consigned to oblivion.

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The older comedies of Italy become a subject of interest to us, for one of the earliest was written by Bernardo Bibbiena, a friend of Guidobaldo I.,[95] and was first performed in the palace of Urbino. The revival of the comic drama may be traced to Ferrara; and, though the pieces originally represented there before Duke Ercole I. were translations from Plautus and Terence,[96] Ariosto made several boyish attempts to vary the entertainment by dramatic compositions of his own. This was just before 1500, and to about the same time Tiraboschi ascribes the comedies of Machiavelli. There is thus much probability that these attempts preceded the Calandra of Bibbiena, which has, however, been generally considered the oldest regular comedy in the language. It seems also to have been the first that attracted the notice of his patron Leo X., whose delight in comic performances was excessive; and, although now superseded by pieces more in accordance with the age, it long enjoyed a continued popularity. Giovo celebrates its easy and acute wit, and the talent of its mobile and merry author for scenic representation, which must have greatly tended to ensure its success. It is doubtful in what year it was played at the Vatican in presence of his Holiness, on the visit of Isabella, Marchioness of Mantua, when the decorations painted by Baldassar Peruzzi obtained unbounded applause. But this probably happened after its performance at Urbino, which collateral evidence discovered by Pungileone, has fixed as taking place in the spring of 1513.[*97] This gorgeous entertainment, and the scenery executed for it by Timoteo della Vite and Girolamo Genga, are commemorated in a letter of Castiglione, which throws light upon the manner of such festivities in that mountain metropolis.

Though much of this detail regards the accompanying entertainment more than the comedy, it cannot be deemed out of place, as illustrative of the way in which these were managed in a court where we have frequent occasion to allude to such pastimes: the preceding description fully explains the often-mentioned moresca, and almost entitles us to translate that word by the better known French ballet. The Calandra continued to be played on select occasions in Italy, and we hear of its being produced at Lyons in 1548, before Catherine de' Medici and her husband, whose largess to the actors exceeded 2500 crowns.

This piece, though improved in incidents, is avowedly indebted for its plot to the Menecmo of Plautus, a comedy already popular through a translation performed at Ferrara, in 1486-7, by the children and courtiers of Ercole I., in a theatre built on purpose within the palace-yard, and costing with its decorations 1000 ducats. In regard to its proper merits, no one can deny the amusing complexity of the plot, the constant succession of absurd mistakes among the personages, the ingenious contrivances by which these are alternately occasioned and extricated, the bustle of the entertainment, and the racy humour of the dialogue. In order to let these be appreciated, an analysis larger than our space can permit would be necessary, and neither the character nor the wit of the piece could be preserved without introducing intrigues and language repugnant to modern decency. GinguenÉ has conveyed a tolerable idea of the comedy without greatly shocking the reader, but has consequently suppressed much of its fun, and to his pages we must refer for detail.[98] The story turns upon the adventures of twins, a brother and sister, who, perfectly resembling in person, but unknown to each other, are simultaneously parties to love intrigues, carried on through the agency of a clever valet, and at the cost of a drivelling husband (Calandro) in the course of which they frequently interchange the dress and character of their respective sexes, a magician being ever at hand to bear the blame of what appear physical transmutations, and a double marriage of course happily solving all embarrassments. Although unquestionably rich in the materials of broad farce, it is evident that such a plot is but indifferently adapted for embodying manners sketched from life.

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The corruption of morals in Italy during the golden age of her literature and civilisation is a painful topic, but one naturally suggested by these remarks, and which cannot with truth be entirely thrown into the shade.[*99] It was especially developed in the free gratification of passions to which an enervating climate is considered peculiarly incentive, and which induce to amorous indulgence. The due restraint of these was reckoned neither among the virtues nor the decencies of life, nor was their licentious exercise limited to persons of exalted station. The sad example set in luxurious courts spread to classes whose sacred calling and vows of continence rendered their lapses doubly disgraceful; and those whose tastes and cultivated understandings were fitted for purer and nobler pursuits wallowed without discredit in the slough of sensuality. With such instances, even among the finest characters, these pages render us unfortunately too familiar. Instead of multiplying or repeating them, let us hear the calm admissions of a late writer, whose evidence cannot be deemed partial on such a topic. In talking of Bembo, the Italian translator of Roscoe's Leo X. thus touches upon this delicate subject: "It must be observed that most of the poets and writers of that age, although resident at Rome, and dignified by prelacies, preferments, and offices of the Church, were infected with the like vices, or, as some would express it, tarred with the same pitch. The spirit of that court, the manners of these times, the licence of ideas among literary men, their constant reading of ancient poets not always commendable for modesty, the long established and uniform intercourse of the Muses with Bacchus and Venus, the fatal example afforded by certain cardinals, and even by several of the papal predecessors of Leo, whose children were publicly acknowledged ... all these considerations show how difficult it was at such an epoch, and especially in the capital of Christendom, to continue exempt from corruption and licentiousness."

In no language, perhaps, does there exist a jest-book more disgustingly prurient or so full of sacrilegious ribaldry as the FacetiÆ of Poggio Bracciolini. Were such a work published now-a-days, the author would be hooted from society, and the printer laid hold of as a common nuisance. Though the parties to above half its obscene anecdotes are from the clergy or the monastic orders, there occurs throughout the foul volume no word of blame nor burst of indignation. Yet it was compiled for publication by a priest, the confidential secretary of pontiffs, and one of the stars of a literary age. If more direct evidence of dissolute habits among the clergy be required, it will be found in the reports of P. Ambrogio Traversari on his disciplinarian circuits among the Camaldolese convents, of which he was general from 1431 to 1434.[100] It would be loathsome to enter upon the details, but a generally lax morality among those specially devoted to religious profession must be considered as at once the occasion and the effect of much social perversion. The poison disseminated from such a quarter was sure to pervade all ranks, and the standard of public decency must have sunk low indeed ere monastic debauchery ceased to create universal scandal. When churchmen had become very generally latitudinarians in theology and libertines in morals, the corruption of their flocks need be no matter of surprise. It was in the beginning of the sixteenth century that these evils had reached their height, and the miseries of foreign invasion under the Medicean popes were even then regarded by many as judicial inflictions from Heaven. Hence was it, that, although Italy was supereminent among nations, although illustrated by the triumphs of mind, adorned by the productions of genius, and enriched by the gains of intelligent enterprise, she was nevertheless deficient in moral power, and when tried in the furnace of adversity was found wanting. With institutions whose freedom had no longer vitality, with rulers intent only on selfish ends, and with citizens relaxed in principle and knit by no common political ties, the very advantages lavished upon her by nature and civilisation proved her bane, attracting spoilers whom she was powerless to resist. Melancholy is the thought that all her mental superiority was ineffectual for her defence; but yet more humiliating the fact that those on whom nature's best gifts were showered, and who were foremost as protectors of literature and the arts, were often, by their fatal example, chief promoters of the general demoralisation. No wonder then that she fell, and in her fall presented a signal lesson to future times "of the impotence of human genius and of the instability of human institutions, however excellent in themselves, when unsustained by public and private virtue."[101]

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