THE TRAVELS OF THEODORE DUCAS. VOL. I. J'liiUCfl by A. & 11. SpoUinwoodc, Ni"-.Strcct-S llu- Icarniiiij; of the ancient world. Two hwnclied was the number ot" niannsciipts which he ij^athered in Wis second journey into ^Mount Athos, and otlier sacred recesses, wliercto the Greeks had retired, when the Turkish power menaced Constantinoi)le. Lorenzo cUed during the second voyage of liis hleraiy agent. Lascaris remained in lettered solitude tor some years ; but, though the in- vasion of Italy by the French ilid not divert him from his studies, yet the intreatics of Charles V HI. induced him to remove to Paris. Mis residence in Trance was neither long, nor, in a literary sense, important. Louis Xll., the successor of Charles VIII., appointed him his ambassador at Venice. Lascaris kept his abodi- in that city after the dissolution of its friend- ship witli the monarch whom he liad re])re- sented, and occu})ied himself in the pleasing- task of comnuuiicating to the X'^enetiaiis the language and literature of his uatiAc country. lie always preserved the regard of the Medicean family ; and, w hen the Cardinal Giovanni, son o* his })atron Lorenzo, became Pope Leo X.,Lascar?s repaired to Home, in order to give life and action to a well-concerted scheme for invigo'at- ing the prevaihng taste l()i- ancient liter;t!ure, 9 GREEK roLLEHi: AT uo:\ii:. & The learned Marcus Musunis, a nali\c of Crete, and wlio, at the commencement of Leo's pontificate, was a professor at Venice, was directed by Pietro J3embo, the Papal secretary, to send to Rome ten or more young Greeks, of noble birth, and minds capable of literary cul- tivation. It was intended that they should be placed under the care of Lascaris, as tlieir master in classical letters; for his accpiaintance with Latin was considerable, and his perfect command over the most co})ious of all lan- guages had been dis])layed in his editions of the Greek Anthology, the hymns of Callimachiis, and many of the tragedies of Euripides. Las- caris was commanded by the Pope to educate his pupils with a view to their ability of teaching the Greek language to the Italians. The editing of Greek authors was also another object of the College. The house of the CarcUiial of 8ion, on tiie Quirinal, was purchased by Leo for these interesting purposes. Musurus, when the commission was received by him, turned his eyes to Crete, not only from love to country, but as being the most literary of all the })laces which, at that time, contained the remains of Greece. There were schools and libraries in Candia, and the other cities of the island ; and, while learning was the ornament of every Greek ]3 3 O f.RKEK COLLF-Ci: AT K()>]E. iiohleman, it was pursuoci as a piolt'ssional occu- pation by men of" iiilcrior stations. C()])ics of" the literary relics of ancient genius were made, and were sold to the traders in the Mediterranean, who retiinied with them to their resj)ectivc countries. Sonic libraries in Euroj)e possess manuscripts, which, according to tiieir introductions, were transcril)cd by Angelus Vcrgecius, Antonius Dainilas, Michael Apostolius, and many others, all residents in Crete. Of that island was tlic scholar Demetrius, whose learned aid was so imj)ortant towards the publication of the Floren- tine Homer, of the year 11-88, and whose critical sagacity was afterwards engaged by the Cardinal Ximenes, for the editing of the Complutensian Polyglott Bible. Se\'eral printers of the classics are Cretans. No one is better known than /accaria Calliergus, who, from the year li^iHo the year 1513, printed several Greek authors at Venice, at the expence of his countryman Nicolaus Blastus, and afterwards was the director of the jiress at Rome, founded at the charges of Agostino Chigi, a rich merciiant, originally of Sienna, and whose Medicean taste gave grace and dignity to his wealth. From that press issued editions of Pindar and Theo- critus, the first Greek books tiiat ever were printed at Home. (1) HISTORY Ol- DUCAS. 7 ^Myfatlier, Demetrius Ducas, had lived for many years in Candia. He had been long as- sociated in friendship with Musuriis; and, there- fore, from private regard as well as general considerations, the agent of the Pope offered a place in the College to one of my family. The hope of recovering national independence foi"- bade my father from parting with his eldest son, who was advanced to maturity, and, therefore, the stay of his declining years ; but, in behalf of myself, his second child, he accepted Musurus' offer of an introduction into the Greek Institute. I arrived at Rome in the month of January, . in the year 15 14-. I was then in my fourteenth year. Under the able instruction of Lascaris and his friends (for he was, towards the close of my studies, absent on a second journey to Paris) I acquired, in the course of six years, the Latin language, and also some of the vernacular idioms of Europe. I studied critically the various dialects of antient Greece ; and, in the course of these philological inquiries, I became ac- quainted with the philoso})hers and liistorians of old, the most faithful painters of tiie opinions and actions of men. I also gave some slight assistance to the first editions of the ancient 8 Ills I'l.AN Ol TKAVr.I.S. Scholia on lIonuT and Sopliocles. These ('(litions wvw two ol' the most learned and iisc- inl works which the Institute publislieil. In our ])rcf'aces we stated, tliat the world owed these books to the love which Pope Leo X. bore to letters. His Holiness responded to this culogium by his bulls, wherein he commended the College, and threatened with eternal punishment all those, who, during the ensuing ten years, should dare to injure the copyright of the Gymnasium. My literary acquisitions fitted me for the office of classical professor, agreeably to the intention of the Institute. I was not pleased, however, with the prospect of the diurnal labours of an academy ; yet, had circumstances required my stay at Rome, gra- titude to the Pope would have stifled all feelings of discontent. I wished personally to investigate the state of literature and the arts, of which I daily heard interesting accounts. Leo granted me permission to travel over Europe. He as- signed me a liberal pension on the Papal funds, and I knew^ that the friendslii)) with which 1 was honoured by so illustrious a j)ersonage, would secure me an honourable rece[)tion by the literati of other countries. uiiiisbos liiiie obliviscerc Graios, No>tLr trih. HJS I'LAN Ol- TKAVELS. 9 There were no personal difficulties in the way of my travelling. Totally unconnected as I was with the politics of any country of" the West, 1 was not liable to one great source of hostility. As a member of the Greek church, it might, at first view, appear that I should be obnoxious to every class of the religionists of the time ; but the Christians of Europe, unlike their ancestors, were not animated by the wish of compelling tlie Greeks to enter into the pale of the Latin church : they suffered some compunction, that their own discords had enabled the Turk to destroy the great Christian empire of the East ; and, in the mighty contention between Catholics and Pro- testants, all minor differences were forgotten. 1 resolved to pass over, in decorous silence, the religious observances of people that I visitctl ; and not exclaim, as my countryman Leontius Pilatus did, in a church at Venice, — " I cannot endure the follies of the Latins." "If the con- gregation had heard him,*' says Petrarca, " he would have been stoned." I intended to travel for the declared purpose of marking the state of literature and the arts ; and I hoped that a Greek would be received with courtesy at a time wlien, as the elder Aldo the printer says, the number of young men who devoted them- selves toCirecian letters equalled the students ol 10 HIS PLAN or TRAVELS, the Latin classics ; and when, instead of one Cato, as at Konic, who studied (ircck in liis old age, the world now abounded with men to whom, at least, lor this reason, the name of that lamoiis Roman miu^ht be applied. Besides, tlie Gymna- sium excited Lijreat admiration in other cities. Francis ])rojected a similar institution at Paris. Circumstances which are needless to mention, for they were interesting only to myself, detained me at Rome till the beginning of the year 15'2'-2. I then bade adieu to my collegiate friends. .lam mens practrepiclans avet vagari : Jam Incti studio pedes vigescunt. () didccs coinitum valete coetus, Longe quos simul a duuio profectos« Diverse varia: viae reportant. Catullus, 4i. I ha\e passed nearly forty years in visiting many of the countries and cities in the West that shine with the splendour of intellectual glory, and am now once more a resident at Rome. I cannot return to Cj recce, for there the haughty and in- tolerant Moslem continues his triinnph ; and his cruelty has driven to the torn)) all those who were dear to my feelings. I purjK)se, then, to waste the little remainder of my lamp of life in embodying those recollections, which are now mv onlv solace. If the accoinit vt' niv travels HIS PLAN OF TliAVELS, 11 should ever be obtruded on the candour of the world, I can hope for no readers among politi- cians or statists, for I shall not treat of mili- tary or civil history. Nor will he who quits his native land to indulge the vague curiosity of restless indolence find my \olumes substitutes ibr personal direction to the exterior wonders of cities. The curiosity of every traveller will be directed by the accustomed associations of his mind; and, indeed, among the various subjects of regard, one pursuit is generally sufficient for the attention of an individual. I do not presume to be able to study man and nature too. I have been chiefly interested in viewing the literary aspect of Europe ; for I am one of that nation which, in ages past, obtained the palm of science, and whicii, even in these days of her servitude, has formed many of the features of the intellec- tual character of the Western nations. Next to tlie delight of living in the days of the Grecian sages, no man of letters would wish to breathe any other air than that whicli gives life to the literary heroes of the sixteenth century. I shall recount, then, wluit I liave seen, and heard, and read, relative to the revival of learning and art in Europe. Without confining myself to the details of my journal, and yet adhering generally to the course of my travels, I shall methodise my 12 MUSUUl'S. know It'll i;v, aiul relate, at |)ailic-iilar placc"-;, all that I ohsurvcil, or have since collecteil, of per- sons iiikl subjects. MUSURUH. In (lie iiileiim ol" my ibrniing and commenc- ing the execntion of my plan of travels, I mourned the loss of my father's friend, Marcus Musurus, and my literary patron. Pope Leo X. The former was remarkable for bcin*;' one of the lew refugee Greeks who underhtood the Latin as thoroughly as their own language. Erasmus, an incomparable judge, used to say, that Mu- surus' latinity was miracidously perfect. Mu- surus had been a pupil of John Lascaris, aiul during many years a lecturer on classical litera- ture at Padua and Venice ; and with such ardour did he fulfil his literary duties, that he was not absent from Jiis professor's chair four days in any one year. lie assisted Aldo the elder in collating the manuscripts, and revising the print- ing of many (jreek authors. He was, indeed, a stipendiary corrector of the Aldine i)ress. Mu- surus' \erses, whicii were prefixed to the iirst (the Aldine) edition of the works of Plato, are the finest s))ecimen ut" modern Greek composi- MUSURUS. 13 tion. He praises the pliilosoplicr for displaying, in his inspired page, tlie order of the universe, and the nature of the human soul. He calls on him to descend from the empyreal seat of" divine wisdom, and visit Rome shining with the glories of the greatest of the Medici. Among the let- tered throng that would honour Plato on his entrance into the holy city, Musurus gratefully mentions John Lascaris, who lo\'ed him with paternal affection, and had pointed out to him the path which led to the delights and re- wards of literature. Plato, accompanied by Lascaris and Bembo, would seek the father of the Western Christians, and, presenting his works to him as the offering of Aldo, would, in return for the dedication, implore him to terminate all civil wars, and call upon the chivalrous nations of Europe to engage their hopes of fame in that more glorious cr.use — the restoration of the Gre- cian empire. But till the arts should flourish again in their native soil, Plato entreated his Holiness to prevent their decay, and in particu- lar to provide in Rome a retreat for the exiled muses which might rival the academy at Athens, so that the ingenuous youth of Greece should find the shores of the Tiber as rich in literary enjoyments as the banks of the Ilissus. 14 I'oiM. i.i;(^ x. iMiisurus was also tlit* first oditor of the come- thes of Aristojiliaiics, ami the only remaining work of AthcnjiMis. Aldo, in the prefaces to many of the (lassies which he pnhlisheil, grate- fnlly mentions his learned typograj)hical assist- ant. On tlie invitation of the Pope, whom he liad so elegantly conij)limented, Musurus came to Rome in the year l^Ki, and was appointed to the archhishopric of Malvasia in the Moiea ; but he died a few months after the nomination, and heloie he coulil take posscssioii of his dig- nity. The idle people of Home said that his death was liastened by disappointment at not being invested with the purj)le. This is calum- nious. Musurus might be an aspirant for literary distinctions, but he certainly beheld with little regard the vulgar honours of ambition. A more meek and simple man I never knew. Upon no one would the trappings of prido sit less becom- ingly than upon Musurus. Q2) rorc i.r.o \. 'I'm: aiUantages of birtli and rank, combined with high intellectual (pialitics, anil great per- sonal address, made (iii)\aniii ik' Mcilici, Pope POPE LEO X. 15 Leo X., one of tlic most distinguished men of his time. In recalHng to their minds the events which preceded his election to the papacy, I have lieard the courtiers of tlie Vatican dwell upon his rare merits, as the cause that his pro- motion liad not been regulated by tlie usual scale of age and advancement. It would have evinced more respect for truth to have attributed some of liis honours to the power and conse- quence of his family. He was admitted into holy orders at tlie early age of seven. Soon afterwards, the French King, Louis XL, aj)- pointed him to the archbishopric of Aix, in Provence, and then to tlie abbacy of Pasignano ; when it was found that the Archbishop, supposed to be dead, liad not yet closed his mortal career. Pope Innocent VIII. gave Giovanni a carchnaPs hat, when he was but thirteen years oldj an honour wliich had never before been enjoyed by any individual of the Medici family ; nor could the annals of the Western church, full of corrup- tion and simony as they are, furnish an example of such a distinction so prematurely conferred. The Cardinal, when only thirty-eight years old, was chosen spiritual chief of the Latin world, and this dignity had seldom been reached by any individual who had not passed the full vigour of his life. His election to the papal throne was, I«» i:aklv stati oi I hclicvc, not tlii' ivsiilt ot c rail ami inui^^iit', but of tlic tair claims of'hoiioiirablc birtli, iiiistaiiiL'il moral intogritv, ami abilities both for literature anil business. Leaving to the historian of Ital\ the task of following Leo X. through his political life, anil consigning his polemical wars to the historian of the church, I shall dwell only uj)on such parts of his conduct and character, as lell within mv view as an ol)server of" the stiite ol letters and society. Hut it will be necessary to j)remise some gene- ral observations upon the history of literature previously to his time. If at the removal of the seat of emj)ire from Rome to Constantinople letters had flourished in Italy, I should attribute something of the bar- barity of succeeding centuries in the West, to the fact that much of the j)ower and splendour of the Romans emigrated with Constantine. Ihit as the Roman empire dechned, its literary glories faded also; and when the Goths descended into Italy, they found the land nearly as barbaric as that which they had left. The human mind continued in a state of waste and desolation for several after ages; but at length, in the pauses of war, man showed that his intellectual energies had been repressed, not extingiiished. The growing connnercial importanie of" the Italian LKTTEUS IN' F.UIlOl'i:. 1? states created luxurious wishes, wliich ingenuity and taste were called upon to supply : and in the course of the mercantile transactions and warlike struggles between the Saracens and the Italians, Arabic sciences and literature were slowly and silently introduced into Italy. Many writers have graced the character of Charlemagne with the love of letters ; but if that renowned con- queror gave some slight impulse to learning, the wars of his family certainly checked tliat impulse ; and it is more a matter of literary curiosity than of useful speculation, to enquire into the fate of those schools in Italy which were founded by his grandson Lothaire. The tenth century is gene- rally considered as the darkest in the modern annals of the human race. In the next age we may observe the faint dawnings of letters in the estab- lishinjT of schools for furnishinix ministers to the Church. In those schools knowledge was divided into the Trivium and the Quadrivium : the for- mer division comprising grammar, rhetoric, and logic; the latter portion including arithmetic, trcometry, music, and astronomy. But we shall honour the eleventh century too highly, if we affix to these designations of knowledge, the sense in whicli they are used in these days. Verbal subtleties were chiefly sought for j and the metaphysician, satisfied with the web that liis own fancy had woven, disdained the guid- VOL. 1. c IS r.ARLV STATT Ol aiice ot" I ho masters ol* ancient wisdom. If a student, more linjjpilv filled by nature than others, overcame tlie chflicuilies ol" the Trivium aiul (^ua(lri\ iiiin, ami should still have sighed lor oilier coiHjuests in literal iiri', he Nvas dis- missed to the j)ages of C'assiodorus and IJoethius. The Consolation of riiilosophy, hy the latter author, intlecii, was the most popular book of all the classics, during the barbaric ages. As Boe- lliius was u Christian, bigotry dreaded no Pagan contamination; and he wrote in the allegorical style, w hich was the lavourite vehicle for convey- ing ixiiowled^e. Theology and jurispruilence were aft:crwards introduced into scholastic instruction ; and some schools assumed the loftier title of uni- versities. As tlu- ri'Iations of society became complicated, the profession of the law rose in estimation ; and in proportion to the general increase of knowledge, the clergy were obliged to Mill! to their own ai(|nireini'nts, in order to preserxf their nuthorifv oxer the rest o(" the woild. Arabic science, whether original or adopted, Ikh loniu'il a grrat eoiniecting link between ages and countries, however ilistant and lemotc. 1'he earliest bards of lauope kindled their imagina- tions bv the fires of Oriental j)()etrv. The Ara- l)i;nis (•ommuiiic.'iK'il to llieli' Chiistinn f libutarie^ LETTERS IN EUROPE. 19 or allies in Spain and Italy, the Grecian astro- nomy and the Hindu mathematics, particularly algebra, and the computation by signs, generally called the Arabic digits, though they are abridg- ments of the original numerals or letters of India. In every branch of the healing art, the Saracens were the teachers of the modern Europeans. The Arabians were not the channel of the trans- mission of many classical memorials: for Oriental despotism could not sympathize with the annals of freedom, and the inspirations of republican orators ; nor could the stern religion of Moham- med tolerate poetry which enshrined ancient polytheism. The system of Aristotle met, how- ever, with a different fate. The subtleties of his dialectic were frequently and skilfidly used by the Arabians, when they met the enemies of their religion in the fields of learned controversy. Aristotle, therefore, was a favourite author with the Saracens. They connnnnicated his works to the Christians, and the clergy drew from his intellectual armoury the same weapons which the Moslems had used. From the operation of all these causes, the human mind became more and more inquisitive; and when, in the fourteenth century, the Tuscan poets struck the chord of national honour, ihc c M -t' r.Ani Y >T\Ti: or lt;iliancanie a ))ane- ii:yrist, and llu- i)oet was t'\j)ccUd lo j)a\ i)y 26 EAIILY S'lAli: Ol pniisc ibr tlie protection wliicli was })est()\vcd upon tlio rich creations ol'liis iancy. Wlicn the f'onntains of* classical waters poured their streams into a world of seeming barrenness, those who observed the new life and beauty around them, and thoui^lit of the slight causes and tlic accidents tliat liad eflected tlie change, Jiaturally were curious to enquire whether all the sources of wisdom had been opened. It was known, that the l()\e of the Roman emi)erors for the (Mnistian religion had been measured by their persecution of the Pagan })hih)sophy. The severe orthodoxy of Tlieodosius was blown by Ambrose, IJishop of Milan, into a devouring flame. 'J'he emperor revoked all the tolerating decrees of his predecessors, and proscribed the ancient religion of Rome. Imperial orders w^ere scarcely necessary to excite the fury of ignorant and vindictive monks against the works that contained the mythology of the Greek and Ro- man world. The finest statues and most magni- ficent temples were delivered to the fanatics, and even the libraries were despoiled or burnt. This ardour against Paganism was kept alive till its object was destroyed by Justinian, who, in the year 5*29, closed the schools at Athens wherein Plato and Aristotle were taught. The successors of. Justinian destroyed the litciaiv in- LETTEHS IN EUROPE. '27 stitutions of" Edessa, because that university ol" the eastern parts of the empire had received some heretical corruptions. Nor did the clergy wage war only with the mythology of the hea- thens. Many a copy of the comedies and lyrical poetry of the classics fell the victim to monkish austerity. The laity were enjoined to read the '' divine'* poems of 8t. Gregory of Nazianzen, instead of the amatory effusions of the Grecian muse. A council of Carthage forbade bishops from reading classical authors j and Jerom, whose authority was not inferior to that of any council, censured the young clergy for studying come- dies and Virgil, to the neglect of the prophets and evangelists. The classics were not the ob- ject of study in monastic schools. To read the church service, and to sing the church music, formed the end of education. The celebrated Alcuin forbade his disciple Sigulfus from reading Virgil to his pupils. The })rejudice, indeed, wiis widely s})read in the time of Charlemagne, that classical authors corrupted Christian morality. To know what were the contents of the clois- ters, to save the remnants of ancient htcrature from idle destruction and the consuming touch of time, learned men among the laity traversed Europe. Boccaccio collected, with the greatest CS j;.\itj,\ si ATI. oi iMit', scwral (iri'fk ami Latin iiiaiiiiMTijtl.s, aiiil ("()j)ic(l siic'li as 111" coiiltl not pmcliasc. lie Iran- sfrihtul so many of the Latin j)oets, orators, and historians, tliat it wonkl aj)j)car sniprisini; if'a co- pyist by profession conUlljave pt'rlormecLso mnc li. In a jonrncy to Mount C'assino, a place «;;enerall\ considered as remarkably rich in manuscripts, he was both astonished and afllicted to find the library exiled from t!ie monastery into a barn, which was accessible onlv bv a ladder. lie opened many of the books, and ibuiul much of the writing elfaced by damp. His grief was re- doubled, when the monks told him, that, when tiiey wanted money, they erased an ancient writ- ing, and wrote psalters and legends on the j)arch- incnt, and sold the new manuscripts to women and ciiildren. \^^ therefore, we owe to the monks the j)reservation of some manuscrij)ts, it must not be forgotten that the same class of per- sons were the authors of the destruction of others. After the twelfth century, howevei-, the treasures of anti(piity were not entirely under the control of the clergy. Manuscripts were thenceforth copieil in universities, and, in some countries of Europe, the transcrij)ti()n and sale of tliem formed a il(.j)aitment of tradi'. 'J he monkish practice of I'rasing classical mainisci ij)ts Joj- the sake of kuenilary loie, though, as wc I.ETTF.llS JX ECllOPn. 29 liave seen, it was known in IJoccaccio's time, was more connnon in earlier ages, and sprung from tlie excessive dearth of writing materials. Parchment was not much fabricated in Egypt after the conquest of that country by the Sara- cens, and it was not till the fourteenth century that the Arabic art of making pa})er from linen rags was generally cultivated in Europe. The scarcity of parchment, and the prevalence of barbarism, were co-existent j but a cheap and convenient substance for manuscripts was in common use when the human mind began to pour forth its inspirations. Petrarca was as zealous as his friend Boc- caccio in searching for manuscripts. His letters are full of interesting details on the subject. Niccolo Niccoli, a learned Florentine merchant, amassed a large collection of manuscripts. He often transcribed his originals, and corrected the errors of former copyists. Indeed, he may be regarded as the father of verbal criticism. He was the first, too, who in modern times con- ceived the idea of forming a library for public use. He bequeathed his collection to his native city ; but as he died in debt, his patriotism would have been useless, had not Cosmo de' Medici, one of the curators, discharged the pri- vate claims. The books were then placed in the 30 KAIJI.V SIAII. OI- iiioiiaslerv of Si. Marco Imilt cliiefiy .'it the cxj)encc of Cosmo; aiul tliws the Marciiin library, one of the most sj)leiuhd collections in Florence, was fbnndetl by Niccoli and Cosmo. To (iiKiriiio, of \'eroiia, wi' owe the reco\ery ol' Catulhis. He founil the manuscript in a gran- ary, covered with chist and ahiiost destroyed, (inarino went to Constantinople in order to Jearn (ireek of Manuel Ciirysoloras. Oi' two chests of manuscripts, one only remained in his possession; the I'ellow chest was lost at sea; but we nvi^d not believe the common story, that jxrief for the loss chanced his hair from black to white in the course of a few hours. As the recovery of manuscripts is connected with the revival of letters, I must mention with ])raise the learned Poggio Bracciolini, whose life I shall afterwards have occasion to detail. No ditliculties of travelling, no indilierence in the heads of convents to his literary enquiries, could npress his arilour. lie found a copy of Qui n- tilian, an aullior until then known only by frag- ments, in a dirty and tattered state, in the Abbey of St. (ial, near Constance. He found also the three lirst books and a half of the fourth of the Argonautiea of \'aierius Flaccus ; the ( Ommeiitary of Asconius Pcdianus on eight of the speeches of Cicero; tiu'work of Lactantius, LliTTEIlS IN EUROIT,. Si De Utroque Homiiie; tlic Architecture of Vi- tnivius, unci the Grammar of Prisciaii. All these manuscripts were dreadfully worm-eaten, and were lying in a sort of dungeon at the bottom of a tower, wherein, as Poggio said, no one would think of casting even criminals con- demned to death. The indefatigable Bracciolini continued his search in Germany and in France. At Langres, in the house of a society of monks, he discovered the oration of Cicero for Caecina. At otiier places he met with the speech against L. Piso, the orations for Roscius and Rabirius Posthumus, and the greatest part of what he said on the question of tlie Agrarian Law. He found copies of the poem of Silius Italicus, that of Manilius, most of Lucretius, the Eclogues of Calpurnius, a book of Petronius, Ammianus Marcellinus, Vegetius, Julius Frontinius on the Aqueducts, eight books of the Mathematics of Firmicus, which were hidden and unknown in the archives of Mount Cassino, Nonius Marcel- lus, Columella, and some other authors of minor importance. Until the time of Poggio the world were only acquainted with eight comedies of Plautus. One of the emissaries of Poggio found the remaining twelve. Gerard Landriani, Bishop of Lodi, discovered, under a heap of rubl)ish, a manuscript containing Cicero's three • i'J 1;AKI.Y sTATK of I.KITKIIS is KUIIOPE. dialop^uc*^, Or Oratoiv, the Bnitiis, ami tlie Orator. Cosmo clc' Mcdici ^sa^» a iioblc ciitliusiast in tile endeavour to recover literary treasures. His agents explored the convents of Italy, France, and Ciermany. lie used, with great advantage to literature, liis commercial connections ; his sliips returned to Florence liom Constantinople lailen with books as well as merchandize, and lie tinelv saiii, that lie wished he could exhaust his tbrtune in the purchase of manuscripts. This noble wish was breathed with equal en- thusiasm by his grandson Lorenzo, and it was in his short lite that Florence attained the sum- mit ot" literary glory. (.3) Thus, then, tiie Italian mind has been partly ibrmcd from the study oi" the poets, pjiiloso- j)hers, and historians of ohl. Some features of Arabic literature have likewise been communi- cated. But, while Italy was becoming 'rich in all these lbreig!i concpiests, she looked into Nature herself, and ilisplayi'd original })owers. Dante explored the uorld of the sublime and tlu- i)athetic ; Petrarca ])layeil Mitli the finest forms of the imagination ; and Boccaccio was the elegant j)ainter of tlie passions in their ordi- iiaiy appearances in life. Ne\cr had the early I'Ol'E l.I.O X. '^S literature of any nation three greater names. But, notwithstanding these glorious proofs of native ability, the love of classical letters sus- pended, in an extraordinary manner, the pro- gress of all other excellence. Italian pride was more exalted in regarding the sages of old as Italians, than in founding new pretensions to fame. In the political convulsions of Italy, perpetual references were made to Roman in- stitutions, and the mind, therefore, naturally reverted to Roman literature. Through the fourteenth century, literary men were the pa- tient disciples of the ancient masters ; nor was it till the days of Lorenzo de* Medici, that the dignity of Italian literature was asserted. After these general remarks on the early his- tory of the revival of learning, some of which I shall ha\e frequent occasion to enlarge upon and illustrate, I come to consider the literary character of Pope Leo X. He was an hereditary patron of literature ; he pursued, with the ardour of Cosmo and Loren/.o de' Medici, the search for ancient manuscripts. His agents penetrated into every place where literary trea- sures could, in any probability, lie concealed. The most important discovery was made in the Abbey of ('orvey, in Westphalia. The fir>l vt)i,. I. j; :H I'oi'i: ij.o x. five books ol" tlie Annals of Tacitus were found in that sacred retreat. The Pope !iot only re- warded tile discoverer of the treasure, but pationized the |)rinting of the work. At the foot of" the papal arms, on books that iiad been publisheil under papal patronage, there was often added a j)r{)inise of reward to those who would present unedited manuscripts to the Pope. Leo must ever be venerated for enlarg- ing the Vatican Library, re-establishing the Ro- man University, and creating the Greek Gym- nasium. He founded an oriental printing-press at Rome. The first Arabic printing-press in Europe had been set up at Fano, under the auspices of Po])e Julius IL : the earliest book that issued from it bears date in the year 1514. Leo's mind had been accomplished in literature bv Anijelo Poliziano and Demetrius of Chalcis, two of the most finished Greek scholars of the fifteenth century. Indeed, no man possessed more elegant scholarshi}) than Leo. The habits of his education led him to prefer the classics to the fathers ; and, as he was more a Meca^nas than a bisiio)), the opinion of" the world was naturally formetl, that ])rofane literature shared an undue jjoition ol" his jialronage. Doubtless, the quality of his nund influenced his conduct; but it is etiually true that learned theologians POPE r.F.o \. S5 and lawyers were clierislied by him. Many men of genius found in Leo an affectionate and generous patron ; and I wish that his de- portment in the literary world had always been so judicious as to warrant the opinion, that liis love of intellectual ability was a passion that dwelt in his mind in purity and singleness of feeling : but Ariosto, who ranks with Dante and Petrarca, was contemptuously slighted by him ; and the genius of Michelangiolo was suf- fered to lie waste in some FJorentine stone- quarries. Nor did Lionardo da Vinci enjoy any larger share of papal patronage. Leo befriended Paolo Govio and Pietro Aretino, indeed; men who were as detestable for the immorality of their lives, as for the ven- ality of their pens. The latter writer, how- ever, sometimes recorded facts ; and much do f regret, that my duty to truth compels me to })oint out the shades in Leo's character. It was difficult to judge, Aretino said, whether the merit of the learned, or the tricks of buffoons, afforded most delight to the Pope. The de- formities and vices, the negligencies and errors of men, were made a matter of mirth. Even idiotcy was laughed at. I cannot commend the taste of Leo on this subject, although the Greeks and Romans, with Aristotle and Cicero at their head, used to place personal defects within tlie u 2 3b I'oi'K l.io X. region kI' lidiciiK'. lo tlic cxteniporaneoiis poetrv ot" Aiulrt'a dr .M;iia, tin.' wisest nicii miglit h;i\ c listeiieil ; l)iit what })oIisl)C(l niiiid could take tlclight in ciowniiig Qncriio of Mo- nopoli witli a wrt'atli of cabbage and laurel, in seeing him eat to excess, and heaiing the wretched fool roiato his doggerel rhymes. Ag«;stin() Nifo, who had been a Professor of" Pliilosophy at \aj)lcs and I'adna for several vears, was caressed by Leo. The clergy had censured the Professor for maintaining the general opinion of the philosophers of old, that the souls of men were parts of one spirit or emanation of the Deity, into which they would resolve on the dissolution of the bodv. \ifo verv prudentiv renounced his heresies, aiul wrote, with the fuiv of a ))artizan, on the ortho- dox side ri' {\\c (piestioii. His learning was pr«)digious, and he occasionally laboured in his studv with most intense application. I lis merits as a philosopher, however, were not so nuu-h the subject of' adniiration, as the immoralitv of his conduct was the subjecl of ridicule. llis amatory follies formed a constant topic of mirth at the table of" the Pope. Leo delighted to hear Bernardo Accoiti pour forth extemj)orai y verses to the music of his lute, AuA he most liberally rewarded hi.^ talents. I have known \]\c shop^- in Home closi'd, a 38f I'oi'K m;o v. rial establishment there were an himdretl [gen- tlemen, whose sole diitv it was to attend him occasionallv on horsehack. Hadrian made the sign of the cross when he heard of this instance of ostentation, and immediately reduced the number to twelve. lie would have been con- tented with fewer ; but it was necessary to preserve some superiority over the cardinals. The onlv eleaant relaxation of Leo was in music. He was himself a good musician, and used the great power of his station in encourag- ing the science. He j)r()moted some men in the church, solely on account of the improvement."^ which they made in the choral service. But his favourite amusement was the chase. The affairs of the Papacy often were suspended for several days together, on account of his excessive devo- tion to this description of ])leasure. The man who threw any interruption in the way of the cha.se was never pardoned. The close of a suc- cessful day of In lilting, was tlic best time for soliciting a f;i\our tiom the Pope. In many other j)arts of his conduct he was unclerical. By iiis conmiand, the Mandragolaof Machiavelli, and other comedies, licentious and impious, were acted ill the X'atican, loi the amusement of him- self anil the cai\iinal>. In hi> mode of perform- ing (lie church service, so far from being the POPE LEO X. 39 thirteenth Apostle, as my learned countryman, Arsenius, called him, he often scandalized the orthodox. He was so little impressed with the sacredness of prayer, that he coidd put on his slippers and receive the crosier in the midst of the service : and yet, on occasions of particular solemnity, he was able to assume a grace and majesty of manner, that well accorded with the pomp of Roman Catholic worship. But I will dwell no longer upon these shades in the character of Leo. It is more gratifying to regard him as the friend of letters ; and although I cannot, with the flatterers at the Vatican, con- sider him as the reviver of science, yet, after all the exceptions that may be made on account of his partialities, he will ever be revered as having sustained the literary reputation of Italy, and iriven fresh zeal to tliat ardour for knowledsre, which had for some ages been spreading over Europe. It would be unjust to others to appro- priate to him all the glories which irradiate his house ; forgetting his illustrious father, Lorenzo the Magnificent, and the equally famous Cosmo de' Medici. I should also derogate from the general dignity and independence of genius, were I to refer the creation of every literary work of the sixteenth century to his influence. The Age of Leo is a phrase worse than idle, for it D 1- lU I.nEKATLKi: Al \U>Si\. leads the niiiul to attribute to tliat l\)po all the literary honours ot" tlie tiiue. There were men of" u^enius in every city of Italy, who never enjoyed his smiles ol'f'axonr. LIIKKAI i;Ui: AT HOME. TnK first anxiety of" a literary traveller in Italy, must be to observe the state of knowledge in Rome ; for all his classical associations tend to that city. The general tone of intellect among the j)eo})le is not, perhaps, so strong or rich as at Florence or Venice ; for republican or connner- cial freedom has not, in the holy city, given wings to the hitman miiul. A retrospective view of learning, peculiar to modern Rome, would present only a dry catalogue of writers on law and scholastic divinity. Rome is no where so little known as in Rome itself, was the observ- ation of Petrarca. Po])e Silvester II. introduced Arabic literature into the Papal states, but it was not till letters re\ i\'ed in Tuscany, that, moved by a generous iMuuhition, Rome vigorously at- tempted again to rule the world in learning and art. That real ornament of the Papal throne, Nicholas \ ., had been ilrawn J"i"0'.n the shade of" a cloister bv the --ical Co,-. mo tie' Medici. Tlie BEAIBO. 41 critical sagacity and profouiRl erudition ol' the monk made him one of the best transcribers of manuscripts that Florence could boast of. His talents and virtues raised him, by regular grada- tions, to the summit of ecclesiastical honour ; which, when he reached, he patronized, with fra- ternal affection, men of similar tastes to his own. From that time to the present, Rome has been as much celebrated for classical and general litera- ture as any city of Italy. Literary merit has been regarded as one road to clerical distinc- tions. The study of her antiqinties has drawn men of letters to her walls, and the dignity of ancient days has revived. Leo's two secretaries rank in the first class of learning, and I cannot more truly display the intellectual aspect of Rome, than in describing the members of the Roman literary circle, during the Pontificate of Leo X., which, 1 remind my readers, conti- nued only from the .5th of March, 1513, to the 1st of December, 1521. BEMBO. Of the meJi wliose talents illustrated the court of Leo X., no (;iic was more remarKable •l-'2 BKMno. than Pietro Bcnibo. He was bom at Venice, of noble parents, in the year II70. His father, J3ernardo, was botli a man of letters and a ])oli- tician. He accom})lislu'(l Pietro in every branch of education, particularly the Greek lan<^uagc ; lor the acquisition of which key to knowledge, tlie young man resided three years at Messina, under the care of the celebrated Constantine Lascaris, one of the most erudite of all the ex- patriated Greeks. Pietro went to different cities in the suite of his father, the Venetian ambassa- dor ; hut the honours of literature had more charms tor his ambition than political fame. He was a great su])port of the Academy, at Venice, which Aldo Manuzio, the printer, had founded. At Perrara he was the friend of Sadoleto, Strozzi, and Tebaldeo ; and he was much distinguished at the court of Urbino, a court in which learned men were particularly cherisheil. He accompa- nied (iuiliano de' Medici to Rome, in the year l."jl2. Pope Julius n. distinguished hinj, when he disj)layed his talents in dccyphering a treatise de Syderibus, by Hyginus, sent to his Holiness from Dacia. The manuscript was in short hand, of which mode of writing, as Bembo informs us, on the authority of Plutarch, Cicero was the inventor among the Romans. BEWBO. 43 When Cardinal Giovanni de* Medici, brother of Giuliano, was elected Pope, and assumed the title of Leo X., Bembo was appointed one of the secretaries to the Papacy, even before the new Pontiff left the conclave ; and three thousand Roman crowns were assigned to him, as aji annual pension. He was also ambassador of the Popedom, in cases of peculiar difficulty and im- portance ; to the Venetians, for instance, when Leo X. wished to unite them with the Emperor and himself against France. He was the com- panion, as well as the confidential friend of the Pope. The suavity of his manners and the friendliness of his disposition, gained him the love, as much as his genius and learning the admiration, of the world. His fine open coun- tenance, and the nobleness and grace of his person, conciliated affection ; and the elegance of his conversation completed the enchantment. His conduct was not perfectly virtuous ; and in; whom was there an cxam})le of purity at the court of Leo ? Were it within my scope to de- scribe the manners of the time, I should be com- pelled to searcli the Divina Commedia of Dante for terms adequately forcible for the expression of their licentiousness and depravity. But Bembo's vice had some semblance of virtue ; for, unlike most of his noble asijociatcs, he, had but one mis- 44 SADOl.EIO. tress, and he behaved to lier witli the fidelity and affection of a luisband. Of'Bcmbo I shall speak again in my account of Padua. (4) SADOLETO. The mind dwells with equal pleasure on the character of the other great supporter of Leo's literary dignity. The intellect of iSadoleto was as elegant as that of Bembo. His manners were as courteous, and his virtue was, for the most part, mild and disinterested. His family was originally of Modena ; and his father was well known as a lawyer and a scholar. By him Sadoleto's passion ibr learning was cherished. The >()ung man ])assed with great honour through the usual course of academical disci- pline. He went to Rome in the pontificate oi' Alexander VL, as a literary adventurer, and found a nuniiticent patron in the Cardinal Olivi- ero Cararta. .Sadoleto wrote in Latin upon various subjects of theology, morals, and the belles lettres ; and though his matter was not more elevated nor profound than that of men who were much his inferiors in erudition, yet such was the grace ami faeilitN of his style, that he soon a<(jnii('(l considerable J'ame. The disco- SAUOLKTO. 4'fi very of'lhe groupe of the Laocoon, by Felici de Fredis, in the ruins of the baths of Titus, was celebrated in a manner that ranked him among the first Latin poets of his time. He wrote, also, Italian verses, and of them the celebrated Roman courtesan, Imperia, was often the theme. But the secretary must pardon me for quitting him and his learning for a moment, to relate an anecdote of this lady, descriptive of her state and magnificence in the holy city. Such was the crowd of servants in her house, that a stranger would conclude it was occupied by a princess. The halls and apartments were most splendidly furnislied with velvets and brocades ; and the floors were handsomely carpeted. The drawing- room was very richly adorned with golden hang- ings, beautiful paintings, vases, and columns of precious marble. On the table, which stood in the centre of tlie room, there were musical in- struments, and books of music and poetry. The ambassador of the king of Spain, thinking, per- ha})s, that cognitio mali non est mala, went once to the house. Imperia met him in the hall, and conducted liim into the saloon. He admired the beauty of the lady, and the splendour of the man- sion ; and having occasion to void liis rheum, he turned round to a servant, spat in his face, and l-^j SADOMMU, saiil lliat he really must not be oftendeil, but that c\vr\ thini^ was so rino, that his face was the only thiiiLj he could sj)it upon. Inij)eria, it is said, was highly j)leaseil at this compliment that was paid to the magnificence of her house. (5) The ability of writing Latin elegantly was considered the most valuable of all literary })()s- sessions; and the scholar, whose style api)roached nearest to that of Cicero, was honoured with a reputation that should only have crowned ori- ginal genius. Sadoleto's peculiar talent fitted him for the office of secretary to such a Pope as Leo ; and, by the pens of Sadoleto and Bembo, the correspondence of the Roman court breatlied an air of elegance unknown in the annals of the Papacy. This circumstance was at once an effect and a cause of the love of classical litera- ture which distinguishes the age. Thougli the mind of Sadoleto took no new road to fame, vet his heart was not etpially accordant with the character of the times. His mildness to the reformers madi' him oilious to the pajial bigots. \\'hile voraciousness of plunder, as nnich as literary elegance, charac- terised the court of Leo, Sadoleto remained almost a solitary example of disinterestedness. A few years afler his appointment to the office SADOLETO. 47 of Papal Secretary, lie accepted tlie bisliopric of Carpentras, whose revenues, moderate as tliey were, more than satisfied his wants. To such a man as Sadoleto, it is delightful to turn one's mind from the self-sufficiency and ambition of ordinary characters. I marked his course through all the remainder of its career, and I never could find that he lost the suavity and kindness of his manners, or changed the in- tegrity of his principles. After the death of Leo, he repaired to his bishopric ; and it was with difficulty that the Popes, Clement VII. and Paul III., could draw him thence. If ever he went to Rome, it was upon occasions of great moment to the Papacy. No man was more re- spected by the potentates of Europe than Sado- leto. It was principally owing to the weight of his mediation that Charles V. and Francis made the celebrated armistice at Nice in the year 153S. The French king, that real friend to letters, repeatedly offered him an honourable reception at Paris ; but Sadoleto always replied, that he preferred the repose of solitude and the gentle excitement of literature to the tumult of courts and the hurry of political atlairs. Paul III. gave him a cardinal's hat. The honour was unwillingly accepted ; but Sadoleto lb MOI.ZA. did not think, like most clniiclinicn oliiis time, tliat additional wcaltli was necessary to enable liim to support his added dignities, ((j) MOLZA. TiiK society ol" I'Vancesco Maria Moiza was courted ])y the witty and the great. He was boiii of a iiol)lc ihinily at Modena, in the year 1189; and, atkr lie had acquired the usual scholastic |)ortion of classical literature, his parents wished him to add judicial honours to the other distinctions of his house. But the austerity of the University of* Bologna did not accord with his liveliness. He went to Rome, trusting only to ibrtune ; but, though he had talent enough to seize happy occasions, yet his devotedness to pleasure prevented his steady pursuit, of wealth or fame. He returned to Mo- diMia. His father administered to him the usual medicine for the cure of licentiousness : Fran- cesco married. He broke, however, from domestic restraints, and repaired again to Rome. Tiie cir- cumstance of his having deserted his wife and four chililrrn did not lessen his merits in the eyes of his con\ i\ iai com])anions ; and he numbered among 10 MOL/.A. 49 his literary associates Sadoleto and Bembo, and among his dignified patrons the Cardinal Ippolito de' Medici and the Cardinal Alessandro Farnese. Molza defended his profligacy on principle, argu- ingthat, so longashe abstained from atheism, theft, murder, and other great crimes, he might freely indulge himself in sensual pleasures. Immoral as was the age, Molza so far exceeded the permitted licentiousness, that his noble patrons could not, from respect to public opinion, employ him in public stations. The ladies, however, of every rank, contended for the honour of his love. His libertinism always kept him poor, and finally sent him to his grave in his fifty -fifth year. I have not read either his novels, or his poems, which he calls burlesque. The class of readers at Rome who used to admire them sufficiently designate their character. His sonnets, however, gnve great delight to those who think that purity of thought and language is an essential constituent of true poetry. Those which commence with the lines " Signor, le piaghe, onde il tuo vago aspetto," and '* lo pur doveva il bel mio sole, io stesso," are noble in ideas, and rich in expres- sion. But some of his amatory poems, particu- larly the *• Donna, vedro, s'io m'inganno, o sole," are in the most affected style of the imitators of vol.. I. i: .10 HERVI. IV'traicw. His can/oiii ;iri' cmuK'Htly bcautilul. 11 is Latin elegies were saiil to be inleiior only to those ofribullus. (7) in: UN I. Ok similar genius, in many points, to Molza, was Francesco Berni. He otlen admitted me into the chambers of the Vatican which were allotted to him as an assistant to Giammateo Giberti, Bishop of Verona, the datary of Leo X. Berni was more attached to literature and good society than to official employments. He did not like, as he used whimsically to say to nie, to be crammed full of papers, in his bosom, under his arm, before and behind, always writing and working his brain, labours that were only rewarded by the gift of a few small benefices, which were more embarrassing liian profitable to him. (S) He was loved by every body for his good humour, facetious disposition, and his talent for reciting burlesque poetry. 1 have heard him read his poems to his friends, and thought them models of ease. He sometimes showed me the manuscripts ; and I was astonished at the erasures and corrections in every line, before the author dismissed it to the world as his own. Berni's history is rather more interesting than that of many literary characters. He was born about the year 149C, in the Castle of" Campo- vecchio in Tuscany, a castle well known to the readers of Boccaccio's Decamerone. His parents were more rich in ancestry than in fortune ; and he was obliged to repair, in early youth, to Flo- rence, as one who had to struggle with the world. At the age of nineteen, he removed to the larger theatre of Rome. For five years he was in a state of unprofitable attendance upon his relation, the celebrated Cardinal Dovizio da Bibbiena. Berni, on the death of the Cardinal, sought in vain for promotion from Angelo Do- vizio da Bibbiena, apostolical prothonotary. He at length escaped from the impediments to eminence which family jealousy threw in his path, and he entered into the service of that Mecaenas Bishop of Verona, whom 1 have already mentioned. After the sack of Rome, in 1527, he aban- doned for ever his official charge, and repaired to a canonry which he had at Florence, resolved, as his friends said, to devote himself to litera- ture ; or, as he with more candour affirmed, to a life of complete idleness. His summum bonwn was to do nothing, and to lie in bed. It should, E 2 52 BERNI. however, be saiil, in apology l<>r liim, tliat he found composition so hiborioiis, that perfect re- laxation oi inind and repose of body coukl alone restore his wasted spirits. In other parts of character, Berni was irascible, undisguised in opinions, free from ambition and avarice, and remarkably attached to his friends. He could hate violently as well as love warmly ; but his nature inclined him more to affection than to enmity. He lived nearly ten years at Florence. He endeavoured to preserve the friendship of the Cardinal Ippolito de* Medici, and his mortal enemy the Duke Alessandro. Berni died in the month of July 1536. It was thought that he fell a victim to the hatred either of the Duke or the Cardinal, as it was said that he had refused each of those persons to assist in the assassin- ation of the other. But, happily for the fame of the Cardinal, his Eminence was poisoned more than a year ])reviously to Berni's death ; and, on the part of Alessandro, it is not very easy to suppose that the Duke would put a man to death lor refusing to join in the murder of a person who had been removed several months before. The Satires and Burlesque Poems of Berni are even better known than his Orlando liuiam- BERN I. • 53 orato Riformato, which I shall mention on a future occasion. They are full of original wit and humour. The licentiousness of some of them did not disgust the times in which he lived. In one of his sonnets, written against Pietro Aretino, he has even surpassed that mas- ter of calumny in violence and coarseness of vi- tuperation. The object of his wrath was more jealous than irritated, and, out of despair of rivalry, made no reply. So much of Berni*s satire is personal and local, and its sense is so often dependant upon the right understanding of colloquial phrases, that the endeavour would be vain to transfuse it into another language. In burlesque poetry, he was the first among the Italians that attained any eminence. He uses familiar and even vulgar expressions to describe the most serious and afflicting circumstances, and paints the most trifling matters in solemn language. His irony extends over subjects as well as words. He gravely endeavours to prove those things to be advantages, which are gener ally considered to be evils. A season of pesti- lence, he contends, is better than the fine promises of Spring, or the rich abundance of Autumn. It destroys beggars by thousands, and a person can go to church without being importuned for charity while he is praying. K 3 54 ' UKIIOALDO. You may buy upon credit, and you will nol be pressed i'ov j)aynicnt, if you circulate a report that you have symptoms of the plague. When such news is abroad concerning you, if you chance to walk out, all the world will give way to you, and ])ay you honour. During a pes- tilence, every one acts conformably to his in- clination ; that is the time lor enjoying that liberty which is so dear to mankind. Every thing then is in a state of safety. The year of the plague is the true golden age, the primitive state of innocence and nature. (9) Berni was a very elegant writer of Latin j)oetry. Catullus was his moilel, and he approached the object of his ambition nearer than any of his contemporaries tlid. BEROALDO. OsF. of the most learned men at Rome, during my continuance at the Greek Institute, was I'ilippo Beroaldo, a liolognese, and a re- lation of a man of the same name who had distinguished himself in the fifteenth century for the nianner in which he filled the chaii' of rhetoric and poetry at IJologna, and the admir- able coiumentaries that he wrote upon several BEROALDO. 55 Latin classics. The descendant was born in the year 1472, and speedily acquired so much literary and worldly knowledge, that, at the age of thirty, the voice of public fame called him to Rome, and he was appointed to the chair of belles lettres in the Academy, and secretary to the Cardinal Giovanni de' Medici. New honours were conferred upon him when his friend became Pope. The title of President of the Roman Academy was created for and given to him. The archives in the Castle of Saint Angelo and Leo's private library, were then committed to his charge. At last, he attained the highest station in literature, the librarianship of the Vatican. But he was not long blessed with dignified ease. Some public functionaries wished to reduce the ordinary emoluments of the office of librarian. From principle as well as pride, Beroaldo resisted the reformers ; the contest became warm, and, as only his death terminated it, (A. D. 1518) one of the parties attributed that event to vexation, while the world, more rationally, looked into other cir- cumstances of his conduct for an easier solution of the difficulty. His death grieved Leo deeply. I know not whether the Pope is correct in the expression on Bcroaldo's tomb, that liis friend is in Heaven singing hymns ; but he certainly had E !• .Of) UKROAI.IX*. no claim to celestial lia})j)iiicss on the score of chastity. It would ho diflicult to enumerate Beroaldo's uustresscs, it" we read his poetry ; and, as a young man, 1 used to be niuch amused at the open (juarrcls of the learned Sadoleto and the grave librarian of the Vatican, for the favours of the courte/an Imperia. Beroaldo's literary merits were considerable, liesides tiie mere scholastic knowledge which well-directed industry can always attain, he wrote Latin poetry with tiie wit and elegance of Horace. His name too became associated with the fame of an ancient historian. The literati of the j)receding age had numbered the first five books of the annals of Tacitus among those which time had consumed. Still, how- ever, the hope of recovering them occasionally niini::led itself with the aspirations of classical enthusiasm, when it was considered that the Emperor Tacitus had caused ten transcripts of" the work of his illustrious relation to be made yearly, and placed among the Roman libraries. 1 ha\ e nu niioned that a literary agent of Leo at length found a copy of the precious volume in the monastery of C'orvey, in Westphalia. Five hundred secpiins were thought 1)\ the monks an ample ecjuivalent tor the unknown treasure, :uui the nieniey \\as cheerfully paiil ])\ BEKOALDO. 57 Leo. The manuscript was conveyed to Rome, and published, in the year 1515, under the learned care of Beroaldo. Leo very kindly en- deavoured to secure to the editor the exclusive property of the work for the next ten years. Pecuniary penalties and excommunication were to be inflicted on those who invaded the rights of literature. IJut Alessandro Minuziano, at once a professor of history and a printer at Milan, secretly procured a copy of each sheet as fast as the printing advanced, and prepared a surreptitious edition. Before its completion, however, the Pope heard of his measures, and, strongly indignant at this apparent contempt of his authority, summoned the offender to appear before him at Rome. Minuziano implored par- don, on the ground that no sordid motive had urged his conduct, but that he had been only influenced by the laudable desire of being able to lecture on the work to his pupils. Leo then addressed him as his beloved son, pronounced his pardon, and even allowed him to pursue his intention of publication, charging him to make some pecuniary compensation to Bero- aldo. (10) 5S CASTIGLIONE. CASTIGLIONE. Few men enjoyed more of the favour of Leo than the Count Baldassare Castiglione. He was born in the year ll-TH, of noble parents, in the castle of Casatico, near Mantua. Bv birth and education he was fitted for a court, and he attached himself to Francesco Gonzaga, Mar- quis of Mantua, the distinguished lieutenant of Louis XIL in the conquest of Naples. He afterwards went to the court of the Duke of Urbino, which was one of the most brilliant courts in Italy, and became the Duke*s ambas- sador to Henry VH. in England, to Louis XH. at ^Nlilan, and, finally, to Leo X. at Rome. He remained at Rome during all the reign of that Pope. He was the friend of literary men, but the natural and acquired graces of his mind dis- })osed him more to fine arts than to letters. His taste was so pure, that RafacUo often consulted it. His fortune was nobly spent in the collecting of pictures, statues, cameos, and other articles of" \irtu. From honourable feelings of national pride, he removed to Mantua the celebrated Giulio Romano, the most famous of all Rafacllo's pupils. Castiglione, in the pontificate of Cle- CASTIGLIONE. 59 ment VII., went on an embassy to the Emperor Charles V. in Spain. The imprudence of the Pope thwarted all his efforts for peace ; the blame of every measure was cast upon Castig- lione ; the high minded cavalier sunk under chagrin, and he died at Toledo in the year 1529. The Emperor esteemed and favoured him highly, and that excellent judge of personal merit de- clared, that death had carried off one of the most accomplished cavaliers in the world. I cannot place Castiglione among the men of daring genius or profound erudition ; but he oc- cupies a valuable place in the ranks of literature, as the author of a book novel and interesting in its kind. In some happy hours of his life, he began to write a work called II Cortigiano, or, The Mode of Living at Courts. He did not finish it till the year 1527, when he was in Spain. He sent it to his friend Bcmbo at Padua, who superintended the })rinting of it at the Aldine press. Editions rapidly multiplied, and there is no book more admired by the Italians. It is the first treatise on the subject of the minor virtues that has appeared. Its details are often trifling, and it is wanting both in knowledge of the principles of human nature and of the lights and shades of manners. Much, however, may be learned from it, not onlv on the decorums of ()*) niHHlKNA. life, but oil ers were voinig, and from tlieir enthusiastic love for antiquities, they renounccil their l)ai)tismal and I'amilv names, and took titles from classical sub- jects ; a custom very prevalent now, but which, on account of its vanity, has been fie([uently ridiculed by the judicious. (17) Giulio was the president ol" the Academy, and he chose for his designation, tiie words Pom})onius L.t'tus. His house stood on the Quirinal, Platina, the libra- rian ol" the A'atican, hail betpieathed it to him, with the laurel trees from Avhose branches he liail nuule poetic crowns. The house was orna- nienti'tl in every part with iragments of ancient sculpture and statuary. The Academy was well nigh ruined by Pop^* Paul 11. That pontitVfancietl that the young Academicians were consjiirators and heretics. lie cast into })rison all those wlioni he couKl seize, and he endeavoured to extract Irom them, by the torture, confessions of crime ; but they a\owed nothing. At the time of this act of tyranny, i'omjjonius was at \'euice. The j)()|)e caused liiin to i)e dragged thence in chains to Konir, anil to sutler the torture like his asso- ciates. IJut the president did not disgrace the virtue which the Academician^ hail displayed. THE ROMAN ACADEMY. 77 Tlie pope gave up tlie accusation of conspiracy; and, as if acquittal from one crime was proof of tlie existence of another, lie charged them with heresy. But the champions of orthodoxy, who examined them, were compelled to declare that they were sound Catholics. More attached to jiride than truth, the pope would not avow the injustice of liis suspicions. He confined the ob- jects of his prejudice for some months, and pub- lished a decree, in which, as if to show that folly is the end of passion, he ordered that every one should be accounted a heretic who should pro; nounce, whether seriously or in jest, the word Academy. Sixtus IV., his successor in the pa- })acy, permitted Pomponius Laitus to resume his professorship, and to collect again the scattered academicians. No man was more beloved by his associates than Pomponius Livtus. In the midst of an ebullition of jiopular fury his house was pillaged, his books and effects were stolen or destroyed, and he was compelled to fiy. But when order was restored, his friends and scholars presented him with every literary and domestic assistance. He was simple in manners and austere in morals. His relations at Naples offered him the counte- nance of his family, if he would live among them. 78 rifi; HOMAV acadi.my. Bill he scut tluMii this bricl rcpK : " Ponij)onius Ljutus to his friends, greetiuc;. Wliiit you re- quire is impossible. KareNvcll." •• Poniponius I^ptus, copfuatis et propinquis suis. Quod petitis Heri iion potest. Valete." Valeriano is incor- rect in saviiii; th;it he cUed in an hospital. His funeral was attended by all the great and all the learned of ]{()ni(\ Tlie year of" his death was 11!)8. The Academy breathed again under Julius If. ; but it never was so flourishing as in the pontifi- cate of Leo X. All the men of letters at Rome were members of it. They used to assend)le either in a garden on the banks of the Tiber, or in the house of some noble Meca?nas. Their re- pasts had more of the character of Athenian elesrance than Roman niagniticence. Their conversation, like that of the symposia of old, was a discussion of some subject of deep or polite literature. Sometimes a ])oet woidd recite his verses, or an orator practise himself in the de- livery of a sj)cech intended for a ])ublic occasion. Friendly opinion was asked for, and the festive character of the meeting ])rcvented the appear- ance of critical asperity. The grave semblance of wisdom was occasionally thrown off entirely, and i1k' members amused themselves by discuss- TTfi: ROMAN ACADKMY. / !* ing liuiicroiis topics witli learning aiul inrrenuity. Gorizio, a (lerman merchant, resident at Home, was a generous patron of the Academy. He entertained the members with that fnhiess of convivial hospitahty which appertains to the domestic character of })eoplc who dwell in cold climates, where personal enjoyment cannot, as in Italy, be refined by tlie charms of beautiful scenery. The liberality of Gorizio was grate- fully owned by the literary men of Rome. He built a chapel in the church of S. Agostino, and enriched it with the sculpture of Andrea Con- tucci del Monte Sansovino. More than an hundred and twenty Latin poets celebrated this circumstance, and laid their poetical offerings on the altar of the chapel. On my return to Rome, in the pontiricate of Pius IV., I found that, in the sack of the holv city in the year 15'2'y, the University had been ruinetl ; but that, in the pontificate of Paul IV., it had revived. The same political storm was still more fatal to the Academy. The academi- cians were dispersed, and ihey never again met in a similar form. The eminent poets of the city united themselves under the title of the Vine-dressers ; and the meiubers took their names from circumstances or siibjerts connected 80 III) UOM.W AC. ADIMV. with the \im'. Men of poUti* literature asso- ciated themselves into an Academy of J'ir/u. There were other societies, but tlicy had no interesting features, and I do uot wish to weary my reatlers with a tiry catalogue of names. (18) CHAPTER II. FINE ARTS AT ROME. General Remarks on the Fine Arts at Rome. — Rafaello. — His early Studies. — Paints at Sienna, Florence, and Rome. — Patronised by Pope Julius II. — Rafaello's Frescoes in the Vatican, and his Frescoes for Agostino Chigi. — Pope Leo X. the Patron of Rafaello. — The Artist continues his Labours in the Vatican. — Paints for Agostino Chigi. — Portraits. — His Death. — Remarks on his Character. — The Respect in which he was held by his contemporary Artists, — His Mode of instructing his Pupils. — School of Rafaello. — Giulio Romano — Penni, or II Fattore — Perino del Vaga — Caravaggio — and Gio- vanni Ricamatori. — IVIichelangiolo. — His earl)' Studies. — Patronised by Lorenzo de' Medici. — His Works in Sculpture. — His Paintings. — Julius II. notices him. — Paints in the Cappella Sistina. — Neglected by Leo X. — Michelangiolo as a Military Engineer. — He continues his Frescoes in the Sistine Chapel. — His Paintings in the Pauline Chapel. — Michelangiolo a* an Architect. — St. Peter's. — Remarks on the Professional Merits of Mi- chelangiolo. — His Private Life. — Engraving. — Whe- ther the Art arose in (iermany or in Italy. — Celebrated Engravers. — Andrea Mantegna. — Paimigiano. — Rai- niondi. — Durer. — Lucas van Lcyden. — History of Church Music. — Its State in Rome. VOL. I. CHAPTER II. FINE ARTS AT ROME. 1 HE modern state of the fine arts at Rome is one of the most interesting points of enquiry to the stranger, because the genius of the place revives in his mind the taste and splendour that adorned the military triumphs, and constituted the im- perial magnificence, of the ancient world. In some subjects degeneracy is visible ; but when he contemplates Rafaello's powers of grace and expression, he can scarcely conceive any higher excellence. in sculpture, though Michelan- giolo has not perhaps equalled the ancients, though no one would make a journey to Rome for the sole purpose of beholiling his statues of Christ or of Moses, as the conoscenti, according to Cicero, used to travel to Thespia in order to view the Cupid of Praxiteles, yet in his fresco G 2 84 RAFAELLO. paintings in the Sistini- chapel such subHmity of genius, and so pcricci an abihty of describing the nature and aj)pearances of Inmian passions, strike the spectator, that lie raises the artist into a noble rivalry \\ith ail the poets and orators of antiquity. The Roman school of painting bears, as it may be supposed, the characters of the antique ; but it is distinguished rather by the purity and taste ol' ancient times than by their overpowering grandeiu", in consequence of the great influence on art which the polished ])cncil of Rafael lo has possessed. KAFAELLO. Uataello was born on the morning of (iood Friday, in the year 1 1S8, at Urbino, a city already tamed as the birth-place of his rela- tion IJramante, the celebrated architect of Lodo- vico Stbrza at Milan, and of Pope Julius II. at Home. (liovanni de* Santi, the father of lla- iaello, was a ])rofessional painter of ordinary practical skill, and possessed sufficient taste and knowledge to guide tor a while the genius which his son displayed, even in boyhood, for the arts. Having passed the bounds of his paient's science, rhe vouth studieil inider J''ather Corradini, a RAFAELLO. 85 painter of some eminence, and then removed to Perugia, for the lessons of Pietro Penigino. (19) He quickly imbibed the principles of his last and most efficient master, and imitated his man- ner so well, that the name of the pupil was necessary on pictures, in order to prevent deception. Nice observers have distinguished, however, a taste and an elegant simplicity in those early productions of Rafaello's genius which did not belong to Pcrugino. (^20) A high tribute of applause was soon paid to the early merit of" the young artist. To Pinturicchio, once a pupil of Perugino, was assigned the task of adorning the ducal library at Sienna with a pictorial representation of the life of Pope Pius II. His own genius could not furnish the plan ; his master, Perugino, had not the requisite richness or grandeur of mind; and Rafaello, then scarcely twenty years of age, was fixed upon by Pintu- ricchio as his guide. Conscious of his import- ance, and ambitious of fame, Rafaello not only made all the cartoons for the library, but exe- cuted much of the paintings themselves. These works completed, he repaired (A. D. 1501) to tlie higher theatre of Florence. It does not appear that at first he studied Lionardo da Vinci or Michelangiolo. He associated rather with Father Bartolomeo della Porta, who just at that G 3 Sd HAFAKILO. period had devoted himself to the pencil. From him Raf'aello improved hismodc of colouring, and in return he tauglit his friend perspective. The strength and correctness of design, and the elegant expression of Masaccio, however, at- tracted most of the regard of the kinilred mind of Rafaello ; whose style of painting for the next four years (his second manner) was strongly characterized by the style of Masaccio. Even at a subsequent period, when his own genius was daily pouring forth rich and beautiful crea- tions, he did not disdain to copy into the cham- bers of the A^atican two celebrated figures of Masaccio, representing Adam and Eve, and into the cartoons (which were sent into Flanders to be executed in tapestry) three other imitations of the same painter, one of St. Paul ])reaching at Athens, the second a man folded in his mantle meditating on the words of the apostle, and the Proconsul Sergius in the cartoon of St. Paul and the sorcerer Elymas. (21) From the year 1504 to 1508 Kafaello was alternately occupied at Urbino and Florence in the j)racticc of his art. He then aspired to paint in fresco a ])ublic hall at Florence, but fortune combined with genius to exalt him ; and Bra- mante, at that time architect of Pope Julius II., procured for hi'^ highlx talented relation a com- HAIAKLLO. 87 mission to paint the ciiainbers of the \'atican. PiibHc opinion had already applauded his abili- ties ; and, when he took up his residence at Rome, he was regarded by the pope and the people as u man sent by heaven to restore the beauty of art to the eternal city. (5^) From this time, September, 1508, Rafaello's greatness commenced. His first works at Rome were in a hall of the Vatican, called the Camera di Signatura. He has represented on the roof theology, philosophy, poesy, and jurisprudence, each by an expressive emblem ; and has more fully characterized those subjects underneath by large pictures surmounting a freize, which, with its caryatides, was painted by Polidoro Caravag- gio, after Rafaello's designs. The first painting •which Rafaello finished was that of theology, generally known under the name of the Dispute upon the Sacrament. In this picture there is more of the dryness of Perugino than the elegance of Masaccio ; and Rafaello, not having yet risen above his age, has made a confession of poverty in his art, by describing the rays of glory round .Jesus Christ and the saints by bands of gold. His performance improved as it advanced ; for the right side, w'hich he began first, is much inferior to the left. In this picture, as well as in n)any others, he has taken the poetical license (. i 88 H.MALLLU. ot bringing into one u;r()ii|) persons of the same condition, tlioiigli tiiey lived in different ages. In tiie second fresco, representative of justice, the painter has seized the two most interesting periods in the history of the civil and the canon law, and shown Tribonian presenting the code to the Kniperor Justinian, and (iregory IV. delivering the decretals to a member of the C'onsistory. But the dignity of the subject is injured by Rafaello's complaisance of" painting Gregory in the features of Pope Julius II. To characterize poetry, the artist has represented Parnassus. Apollo (with the unpoetical and modern instrument of a viol in his hand) is seated in the midst of the muses, and of the most celebrated poets of all ages. The fourth picture is that of philosophy, or the famous school of Athens ; justly regarded as the noblest display of picturesque, and even poetical composition. ('23) About the year 1511, Rafaello, at the request of Agostino Chigi, the Sienese merchant, painted the prophrt Isaiah, in the church of St. Agostino; and at the desire of the same patron, he orna- mented the Ciiigi chapel, in the church of La Madonnadella Pace, with fresco })aintings of those foiu" Sibyls, who, many of the fathers of the church maintained, hail predicted the coming of the Messiah. IIi' then adorned the second hall !() RAFAELLO. 89 of the Vatican with a fiesco painting of the monkish miracle of the Host dropping blood to satisfy the increduHty of a priest. JnUus II. is present ; his devout and unruffled countenance shows a mind so firm of belief as not to be sur- prised at any manifestation of divine power. Tliis calmness, so suitable to the head of the Latin church, is well contrasted with the amazement and alarm of the women, children, and soldiers, who occupy the rest of the scene. Another painting of the highest merit, in the same hall, is Ileliodorus, an officer of Seleucus Philopater, king of Syria, who, having entered the temple of Jerusalem, in order to pilfer it of its treasures destined to charitable ends, is thrown upon the ground by two angels, and a man on horseback. Nothing can be more beautifid than the expres- sion of the high priest, Onias, raising his eyes anil hands to Heaven; or more sublime than the frown of the minister of divine wrath that anni- hilates the vigour of Ileliodorus. But Rafaello has weakened the interest of the painting, by introducing Julius II. carried in his pontifical chair. This pope, who boasted to have driven away the usurpers of the church patrimony, com- j)elled the painter to introduce him in this manner into the picture. All these frescoes were pcriormcd in the ])ontificate, and under the 90 HAFAELLO. patronage of Pope Julius II., and with the Sibyls and Isaiah are ])crhaps tlie most splendid monu- ments of JIafncllo's p;onius. (21-) Rafaello was as dear to Leo X. as he had been to his martial predecessor. He prepared twelve cartoons, or designs of subjects recorded in the Acts of the Apostles, for the tapestry weavers in Flanders ; and though the papal chapel was in a few years ornamented with the rich produc- tions of the Flemish loom, yet the divine originals of their beauties were never returned to Rome. Kafiicllo continued his fresco })aintings in the \'atican, and finished the liberation from j)rison of St. Peter, and Attila's departure from Rome, in consequence of the expostulations of St. Leo, and the threatening aspect of St. Peter and St. Paul, wlio appear in the air to defend the sacred city. St. Leo has the countenance of Leo X.; and, with equal disregard of dramatic ))ropriety, many others of the figures are portraits of Rafaello's contemporaries. In the second hall, the most remarkable fresco of Rafaello is the burning of a i)art of Rome, in the time of St. Leo. The P()})e, by the sign of the cross, arrests the fury of the flames. The horror of the scene is appalling; but the finest group is that of a young man bear- ing his father on his shoulders. It is said that RAFAELLO. 91 he painted these two figures in order to convince those who admired Michelangiolo exclusively, that he, as well as that master, possessed a thorough knowledge of anatomy. The three other pictures in this hall represent the descent of the Saracens at Ostium, the coronation of Char- lemagne, by Pope Leo III., and the same Pope justifying himself before the Emperor. Charle- magne is painted with the countenance of the French monarch, Francis I., and the Pope with that of Leo X. But as these three last pictures, executed chiefly by the pupils of Rafaello, have not the beauty of the former, they are not pointed out to the inquisitive stranger as forming a part of the most splendid ornaments of the Vatican. The ceiling of this hall had been painted by Perugino, and from afl'ectionate regard to his old master, Rafaello would not suffer it to be effaced. Many paintings of other masters had been re- moved from the walls of the Vatican, to give place to the new frescoes. Pope Leo X. then wished that his favourite artist should paint the history of Con- stantine, in the grand hall which led to the cham- bers we have mentioned ; but Rafaello died after having finished only two figures, Justice and Mercy; and the execution of the task was some years afterwards assigned to those who had been his pupils; andprincipally to Giulio Romano. (2,5) \)ii UAr.\i;i.r,(). I'lii' coiliiiirs ol" otiier galleries of the Vatican were painted from the designs of Rafacllo. The storv of Cupid and Psvche was represented by liiin and liis ))upils, in tlie j)ahice of Agostino Chigi, at Rome. This last j)ainting ])ossesses all RafaeHo's beauties of elegance and character ; but lie who views it with a scholar's eye, will lanunt tlie artist's frequent deviation from the classic page. The fresco picture of Galatea surmounting the waves in a car, in tlie same man- sion, entirely by the hand of Rafael lo, is a noble and brilliant work. At the command of Pope Leo X., Rafaello made various architectural designs. Florence and Rome, in their })ublic and private buildings, possess many proofs of his talents in architecture. Dnrins: all the lime of his residence at Rome, many of his hours were passed in painting variou>^ subjects in oil, for such persons of his own and of foreign lands as wished to partake of his immortality, by being the subjects of his pencil. Some eminent connoisseurs tiiiiik that Rafaello owes his reputation to the excellence of his fres- coes in the Vatican; that in his easel works his hand aj)j)eais cramjied and confined; that in these j)erformances he lost his facility and spirit, and e\ I'll his correctness ; and that, in short, he is not the s;unc man u\ oil as in fiesco. Much of IIAI-AKLLO. 93 this opinion is founded on too exclusive an admi- ration for the imaginary grandeur of painting, and of referring all merit to the standard of this ideal excellence. Many of his oil paintings are noble proofs of the incorrectness of these senti- ments ; and I need only refer to the picture of Christ on Mount Thabor, as the acknowledged perfection of the art, and the greatest single effort of Rafaello's genius. This, also^ (the Transfiguration, as it is called,) was his last per- formance. From early manhood his conduct had shown that the pleasures of the imagination too often lead to those of the senses ; and, unha})pily, the tone of morals in Italy does not correspond with evangelical purity. So thatRafaello painted, every folly was permitted him; and while he was delineating the history of Psyche for Agostino Chigi, his employer, in order to detain him, allowed his mistress to dwell in the palace. She was called La Fornarina, for her father was a baker. The epithet bella was generally attached to tht name; but more from compliment toRafaello than from the feeling which beauty inspires, for her features were not handsome, and when the usual vacancy of her countenance was betrayed into a transient expression of amatory passion, lier animation, I thought, was calculated rather to otiend the delicacy, than to fascinate the imagi- 94 RAFAELLO. nation, oia man ot'genius. The Cardinal Hibbiena, uitli real friendship, offered his niece to Rafaello in marriage ; and the splendid gifl no artist, eminent as he might be, could refuse. JUit inalienable attachment to old habits continually delayed the nuptials, and at last Rafaello fell ill of a fever, the consequence of weakness. His physicians, in ignorance of the cause of his sick- ness, ordered frequent bleedings ; and his disease became mortal. Finding that his end was a})- proaching, he made his will, and j)repared to die in the manner which his religion prescribed. He pro^■ided for his mistress ; he purchased the prayers of the church for his soul, and appor- tioned the remainder of the fortune which his talents had acquired, between his favourite pupils, Giulio Romano, Francesco Penni, and a relation at Urbino. Finally, on Good- Friday, 1520, the day corresponding to that of his birth, thirty-seven years before, Rafaello expired. There is a story in the world, that he died of a shameful and loath- some disease : but the facts were as I have stated them. The grief at Rome which his death occa- sioned was in proportion to the celebrity of his life; and no testimony of sorrow could be more affecting and simple, no orator could so well describe the irreparable loss which the arts had sustained, than the placing of the picture of the RAFAELLO. 95 Transfiguration over his mortal remains, in the chamber wherein he died. (26) In propriety of design, elegance of fancy, and enchanting grace, Rafaello is the first painter in the world. In colouring he has not the fresh- ness nor the vivacity of Tiziano, nor the breadth of light and shadow of Correggio. In the sub- lime, in philosophical abstraction of character, he was surpassed by Miclielangiolo : but as the painter of the passions, he acknowledges no superior. No dramatic poet was ever more skilled than he was, in invention or adoption of subject, in choice of situation, or in natural deli- neation of emotions. He marked distinctions in form andfeature, which the common eye observed not ; and his fine and delicate pencil could trace every vibration of feeling, and every emotion of mind. From possessing this talent of observation, and this power of description, itistliat his portraits are so excellent. But Rafaello yields to many painters in delineating female forms. His women have neither the beauty of feature, nor the magic of expression, which we look for from the pencil of so graceful a painter and so impassioned a character as Rafaello. There is apparently some- thing invidious in the remark of Michelangiolo, that Rafaello had not his art from nature, but from long study. It is not correct to say that !l() HA FA KILO. his excel It'lici' was the vW'ccl of lahoiir, luH or ijjoniiis. Nat mo liail blessed Iiim witli a proinpl and accurate taste, an intellectual faculty ot" |)ercei\ iii^^ and coinbiniiif; beauties, and a ])o\vcr ot'«^ivini^ tbnn and substance to the images ot'his niiml. II is iniiustry, indeed, was as assiduous as his Ut'iiiiis was elevated, lie read the l)()(>k ot" human nature with care; and tlierefore became so ad- mirable apainterofthe passions. IIestudied,als(), thesimplicityand grandeur of "theanticpie, not only in the ruins of Kome, but in the copies which his friends made for him liom the ancient remains in every part of Greece and Italy. He gained some- thing of what was most valuable in the works of his illustrious contemporaries. Me could not \ iew the works of Lionardo da \'inci without improving the expressiveness and gracefulness of his style. He ennobled his mind by diligent, contemplation of the works of Michelangiolo. Indeed, he liberally avoweil that he thanked (rod he was born in the time of Honarruoti.(^i7) Those works certainly inspired him with an increaijed boldness of design. Hut how has he imitated Michelangiolo ^ liy rendering the manner of that great genius more beautiful and graceful; as everv one knows who lias comj>areil the Sibyl of Honarruoli with the Sibyl of Kafaello. We must contemplati' the Isaiah ol" Kafaello, who RAIAJ.LI.O. 97 wishes to know what is svanliug In ilie pro- phots of Michelangioh). But Ratacllo scidom ])aiiitcd figures j)ei'ti'C'lly naked, and tliereiore can seldom he justly conij)ared with Miehel- angiolo, wliose cliief distinction, eonid I forget his suhliniity, was, I shonld say, his accuracy and spirit in (U'liiu'ating the pints of the hiniian iovm, and the correspondence ami titness of every one of those parts to the other. During myfirst residence at Rome, I often saw tlie great Rafaelhjon public occasions walk from his house, near the rising edifice of St. Peter's, to the court of Leo, followed by forty or fifty artists; so generally was his superiority acknowledged. I also frequently met him in the Vatican. His celebrity made every stranger seek his accpiaint- acne. His elegant figure and interesting physi- ognomy attracted attention ; while the fulness of his conversation and the amenity of his manners fascinated the spectators of the divine creation^' of his pencil. I observed with pleasure his man- ner of communicating information to his pu))ils. It was neither the condescension of the i)ride of knowledge, nor the forced and brief j)re- cepts of the hired lecturer ; but the am])le and generous communications of a mind as liberal as it was enlightened. He not only willingly VOL. r. u 98 SCHOOL OF quitted his own performances to retouch tlieirs, but lie freely gave his pupils designs of his own composition ; and hence it was, that, in my travels througii Europe, I found so many of his sketches in tlie cabinets of the curious. The kindness of Rafaello's disposition diffused itself among his scholars. They copied his manners as well as his mind ; and their honourable emu- lation, therefore, never degenerated into ilUber- ahty or envy. (28) SCHOOL OF RAFAELLO. GIULIO ROMANO. (29) The most eminent of Rafaello's pupils, and a distinguished founder of the Roman school of painting, was Giulio Pippi, or Giulio Romano. He was mild, affable, and courteous ; and these graces of manner, congenial with the deportment of Rafaello, attached the scholar to the master. He stood almost in a filial relation to Rafaello. He was his principal assistant in the frescoes of the Vatican ; the companion of his studies ; by union of minds and works, a partaker in his fame; and one of the heirs of his fortune. He had all tlie variety of talents that his master was possessed of; but as in every mind, however ka»,\i;m.o. My Iiighly gifted, there is a characteristic qiiahty, and as in Rafaello that quality was grace, so in GiiiHo Romano majesty predominated. His style of design was grand and flowing, and his attitudes in particular were taken from the finest conceptions of dignity. His drawings are per- haps better than his paintings, for the poetic fire which animated him (and no painter was more a poet) often died away in the tedious operation of finishing his pictures. The more serious ob- jections to his merit are inappropriate colouring, tremendous blackness of shade, and (strange faults, considering the characteristic of his style,) harshness and ungracefulness of manner, and vulgarity of physiognomy. I shall mention Giulio Romano again, when I come to describe Mantua. (30) PENNI, OR IL FATTORE. (31) Equally dear to Rafaello as Giulio Romano, was Giovanni Francesco Penni, called, from his private office with his master, II Fattore, or the Steward. He was the principal artist who exe- cuted the cartoons of the A7'azzi, and he coloured, in the Loggie of the Vatican, the story of Abra- ham and Isaac. He displays much of Rafaello's II '2 elegance of iiKinner, hut the excellence which distingnislies him fiom most artists of the lloman scliool is, his abihty in depicting landscapes. I'HIUNO DKL VA(iA.(:i'.>i Perino di.l \'aga, a relation of Penni, worked much under the direction, or irom tlie sketclies, of Kafaello, in the Vatican. He was the first designer of the Florentine school after Michel- angiolo ; and, according to some opinions, the best of all Kafaello's pupils. It is certain that he had more of the universal ability of his master than any one, except j)erhaps (iiulio Romano, and that the story of the New Testament, ))ainteil in the Loggie of the Vatican, met with at least as much })raise as any ])arts ol" the frescoes that were not executed by Hafaello himself. His name is, liowi'\ei', j)riiici})ally interesting in the history ol'j)ainting from the circumstance ol' his having been the iounder of the Genoese school of the art. He went to Genoa as the jirincipal architect and painter of the palace of the I )oria laniiiy. near the gate of St. Thomas. The mar- ble without was shaped and ornamented, the stucco within was jiainted in tVesco, and various easel paintings in the halU and chambers were KAFAELLO. 101 executed by him or his assistants. Into every branch of tlic art lie introduced the manner of Rafaello ; and the Genoese paid the tribute of imitation to the majesty and elegance of the Roman style. CA11AVAGGI0.(33) Of all the otlier pupils of Rataello, the most eminent was Polidoro Caldara of Caravaggio, in (he Milanese. He was at first a mere labourer in the Vatican ; but his genius for painting was soon developed, and he became an assistant to Rafaello. With his friend, Maturino of Florence, he stu- died the antique with such care and ability, that in a few years there was not a vase, or statue, or architectural fragment in Rome, which he had not coj)ied. From a constant study of the effects, he learned the principles of the ancients, and his works in the antique style were therefore originals, and not imitations. He was eminent tor j)ainting in chiaroscuro, facades, and friezes : his figures are animated and characteristic, their drapery singularly elegant and ap})ropriate i and so high was his celebrity, that no modern painter w;is more complimented than himself by the number of students of his works. (.31-) II o 10^ scHooj, OF iiaiai:li,(». GIOVANNI RICAMATORI. ('.i5) Called, from his birth-place, in the Friuh, Giovanni da Udinc, has claims to notice in the history of" art, independently of" his connection with Rafaello, to whose school he passed from that of Giorgione. While at Venice, his mind assimilated itself with that of Morto da Feltro, a painter who delighted to imitate those fanciful combinations of heterogeneous materials which formed the ornamental style of the Romans in their subterraneous chambers. This style, called grotesque, from grottOy the general Italian word for the places in which these paintings were dis- covered, was carried to a high point of excel- lence by Giovanni da IJdine, for his mind was not only superior in imaginative power to that of Morto da Feltro, but lie had the advantage of working upon stucco, a material which had only been recently discovered in the baths of Titus. Giovanni exercised his talents on the walls of" the Vatican, and has imitated, with astonishing truth and spirit, birds, quadruj)eds, flowers, and fruits. (S(i) 103 MICHELANGIOLO. Of the renowned Michelangiolo Bonarruoti I cannot speak from much personal knowledge, for he was absent from Rome during most of Leo's pontificate ; and now, at the conclusion of my travels, I have merely seen him occasionally amidst the new buildings of St. Peter's church ; but his mind is so completely engrossed by his noble work, that he is not solicitous to entertain fresh friendships. He is more than eighty-five years of age, but his attitude is as upright, and his step appears as firm, as ever ; advantages partly arising, perhaps, from the circumstance, that his person is not above the middle stature. His fine open forehead still gives an idea of the grandeur and amplitude of his mind, and his hazel-coloured eyes move with their usual rapid intelligence. His physiognomy is not, how- ever, so interesting as an admirer of his genius must wish it to be; for the nose still bears the marks of the rude anger of the celebrated sculp- tor, Pietro Torrigiano, who, while Michelan- giolo's fellow-student of the works of Masaccio at Florence, was stung by one of his sarcasms, and retaliated upon his face. (37) H 4 Miciiclan«^iol() iJoiiantioti is a dcst eiulant ol' the ancient family ot" tlic C ounts of" Canossa, and was born in the* Castlo of Capresc in Tus- cany, in the month of March, 1174.(38) At the grammar-sciiool in i'Morence he drew as mnch as he read ; and similarity of inclinations attached him to Francesco Granacci, a youn«; artist, Avliosc master was l^omenico Ghirlandaio, at tliat time considered amonir the most inijje- nious men of Italy, and whose name is recorded with honom- in the history of art, as being one of the earliest painters that gave any character of passion or mind to portraits. Domcnico also hail the merit of depending npon the power of colonrs to represent those parts of his subject which the art of the goldsmith or the embosser was generally called n])()n to describe. lie re- ceived his name (ihirlandaio Irom his liivouritc practice of adorning the heads of his women and children with garlands. The occupation oi" a painter was not at that time the surest road to fame or fortune ; and therefore it was with the greatest regret t,hat the i'ather of ^lichelangiolo yielded to his son's inclinations, and articled him (at the age of fourteen) as an aj)prentice to (ihirlandaVo lor three years. The youth was soon admitted a student of the statues and other remains of the antique, which, lor the advance- 10 MICIIELANGIOLO. lOJ merit oi' modern sculpture, the classical taste of Lorenzo de' Medici had collected in a garden near the monastery of S. Marco. The noble friend of art, in regarding the effects of his pa- tronage, admired the ability with which Michel- angiolo imitated an ancient head of a Faun ; but gently reminded him of the impropriety of put- ting a full set of teeth in the head of an old man. The young artist, inniiediately after the depar- ture of his illustrious critic, made the jaw wear the appearance of a tooth having falloi out. Lorenzo, on returning, smiled at his docility ; and Michelangiolo soon became a favourite companion of that distinguished rewarder oi" merit. At that time the student was fifteen years of age. This head of the Faun is still at FlorencCr and is shown to the curious in art. The intercourse between Lorenzo and Bonar- ruoti continued until the death of the former in 1 lf^2. Michelangiolo remained with Piero, Lorenzo's successor in rank, but not the in- heritor of his ability and taste, for two years, when })olitical storms drove tliem l)()lh (loni Florence. The artist, during his residence with the Medici, devoted liis mind to the study ol" sculpture ; and one of liis earliest performances, namely, a basso relievo of the battle of Hercules with the Centaurs, was regarded, not as the \06 MK ni:i-A\(.ioi o. work of a youth, hut ot an cxpcriiMiceil inaster. I If executed it at tlie recouimeiulation of Poli- ziano ; and many years afterwards, wlien he saw it again, he lamented that lie liad not confined his abilities to sculpture. After a year's abode at Bologna, he returned to Florence. For about three years he ])ursued uninterruptedly the pro- fession of a sculptor ; and it is remarkable that he w ho was afterwards the restorer of the epic dig- nity of art now represented the softness and repose of nature in figures of a sleeping Cupid and a St. John. (39) The sleeping Cupid, having remained a sufficient time in the ground to lose its freshness, was sold as an antique to the Car- dinal .San (jiorgio. The deception was avowed ; but the excellence of the performance raised the artist's reputation, and the cardinal invited him to Rome. He went thither, and remained in that city a year. The most excellent produc- tions of his art at Rome were a Bacchus, and a Pieta, or a marble group of the Virgin and a dead Christ in her lap j and praises lor the design, grace, and finished execution of this laiit subject, v,erc loudly sounded. (10) There are several repetitions and copies of it in Rome and in other cities. Some strangers at Rome had attributed the work to their countryman, a Milanese ; and Michelangiolo, therefore, in MICHKLANGJOI.O. 107 order to prevent any other false a})propriation of his labours, cut his name on a fillet whicii sur- rounds the waist of the \'irgin. The years 1501 and 1502 he passed at Flo- rence, and gave decided proofs of his talents for the highest walks of the arts. He formed a David with a sling in his hand out of a single block of marble, which had been partly hewn into the shape of a giant by an artist many years before, and had been abandoned in despair. Lionardo da Vinci had declined to attempt the completion, for he thought that additional blocks were necessary for the formation of a group, and even of a figure. Four hundred ducats were paid to Michclangiolo for this work. His car- toon of a subject taken from the wars between Florence and Pisa, and j)reparcd with a view to com})etition with a work of Lionardo da A'inci, is a miracle of art. He has cliosen the moment when a ])arty of Florentines bathing in the Arno are sur})rised by the enemy. The universal agitation, the hurry and anxiety for battle, and the nakedness of the figures, gave the artist oc- casion to display his facility and boldness of design, his judgment in choice of attitudes, antl his thorough anatomical knowledge of the parts of the human form, severally, and in relation. in this cartoon, pcrhap^^ the figure of most strik- lOS .mi(1Ii;l.\\(.I()I.o. iiig excellence is that ol' an old man impatient for action, and eatjerly drawing a stocking o\er a wet leg. (11) The cartoons of Da \'inci and Bonarnioti were prepared by the command of the Florentine goNernment, and pictures were to be j)ainted from them, as ornaments oftlic great saloon of the })ublic palace at Florence, 'i'he intention was, liowever, abandonetl. One of the first actions of Pope Julius II. was the calling of Michelangiolo to liome ; and so extensive Avcrc liis Iloliness's projects of great- ness, and so little was he checked bv the common feelings of our nature, that the lormation of the place of his mausoleum was the subject to which the talents of the artist were directed. The de- sign was at length formed and a})proved of; but, on the representation of San Gallo, the great Florentine architect, that the old church of St. Peter's (llie common burial-place of the popes) was neither large nor magnificent enough for so grand a monument, it was resolved that a new eiuiiih should be built ; and hence the origin of one of tiie greatest ornaments of ( 'iiiistendom. Michelangiolo then went to, and lemained eight months at, C'arrara, engaged in j)rocuring proj)er marble for the mojunnent. I Juive heard that, wi)ile he was at that place, the erection of atigurc of" superhuman si/e, to serve -MICHELANGIOLO. KKj as a sea-mark, was once in his thoiiglils. Though the colossal is not necessarily the sublime, yet a pharos seems a proper occasion for such a genius as that of Michelangiolo to expatiate upon. (42) The subject of the mausoleum gradually faded from the mind of Julius; and it was only just l)efore his death that he was imperative for its execution. It was, however, untouclied during the pontificate of Leo X., for that pontiff was never solicitous for the display of Michelangiolo's talents. Several more years passed away with- out the performance of monumental honours to Julius, deeply to the vexation of the artist. The executors were narrow-minded and illiberal ; the plans and agreements were thrice changed ; and it was not till the pontificate of Paul III. that all obstacles were removed, and the work was finished and erected, not in tiie new cathedral, its original destination, but in the church of S. Pietro in Vincoli. It had been originally intended that six sta- tues, the work of Michclangiolo's hand, should ornament the monument; but Paul III. was anxious to engage the artist on other siil)- jects(13); and therefore prevailed upon tiie friends of Julius that the number should be reduced to three. Of these the most celebraleil one is the statue of Moses. In despite of the 1 10 MKHKI WCilOI.O. inappropriatencss of rej)resenting such a person in sucli a situation, and ridiculous in them- selves as are the beard and horns of the figure, yet the awfuhiess of ofi'ended majesty which frowns on the countenance checks the spectator in his petty criticisms, and calls up all his asso- ciated ideas of the dignity and power of the Jewish lawgiver. (44) It is interesting to recur to the pontificate of Julius II., for that was the true icra of Michel- angiolo's greatness. In the course of that period he performed a work wliich will preserve his name for ages. Julius, from respect to his uncle, the late Pope Sixtus IV., conceived the wish of adorning with fresco paintings the ceil- ings of the Sistine chapel. I ne\ er could per- fectly understand the reason that prompted liini to engage an artist in a description of work in which he possessed no experience. Most probably it proceeded from that unbounded ad- miration which Jidius entertained for him, and an unlimited confidence in his powers. The opinion, however, was common among tiie friends of Michelangiolo, that Julius was incited to tlie nieasure by Diamante, who, on his own and his relation's account, envied the talents of Michelangiolo, and the favour of that artist with tlic Po})e; and, tlurcforc, wished to engage him MICHELANGIOLO. Ill in a style of composition in whicii it was likely he would be inferior to Rafaello. Michelangiolo alleged his inexperience in colouring (45) ; but Julius was unaccustomed to be defeated by com- mon obstacles, and the artist yielded. He pre- pared cartoons of the grand subjects of theocracy or the empire of religion, tiie origin of the human race, and its progress in society. He then sent to Florence, for the aid of some of the most cele- brated fresco painters. They began to execute his designs, but in a manner so unsatisfactory to the artist, that he erased all their work; and though acquainted only with the principles, not the mechanism of the subject, he boldly undertook the painting itself. The Pope was most unrea- sonably impatient for the completion ; and towards the close, wlicn the artist paused a while, His Holiness tiireatened to cast him from the scaf- fold. In the space of twenty months, however, a work, whose extent and degree of perfection might alone have occupied a whole life of labour, was completed. Miclielangiolo's })ecuniary re- compence was tliree thousand crowns. ( Iti) If a Pope who could say that his statue ought to have a sword in its hand, and not a book, because he was no scholar ; if so ambitious and martial a pontiff as Julius II. could admire a master of the elegant arts, what happy days 112 AiK in;i..\\(.i(iL(). seenircl in pro^ix'cl (or Miclu'huiL'iolo, wlitMi Ia'o X. asct'iiik'il the |);i,);il thioiiL'. Hut tliat l*o})c bestowcil no jjatronagc on the woiulcr of the age. Instead ol" permitting liini to finish the niansolemn oi'.Jnhiis, lie connnanded him to de- sign tlie i'a^adc ol' the eliureh of" St. Lorenzo, at Fh)renee; and afterwards sent him to Carrara tor tlie marble necessary for the work. The Pope tlien lieard tliat the- lofty regions of Pietrasanta, in the Florentine ilominions, were rich in marble. In defiance of all remonstrances, Michelangiolo Mas compelled to go thither by Leo. Several years were consumed by the greatest scnli)t()r and })ainter of the world, in superintending the excavation of a few cohnnns, and transporting them over a marshy country to the sea. I never heard that in tins long space of time leisure was allowed him to execute any works for private individuals. (1'7) The successor of Leo was both a foreigner and a reibrmer; and upon those accounts was detesteil b\ liu- proud ami luxurious Italians. They had passed over with indifference Leo's neglect of Michelangiolo, yet Hadrian's neglect of him was made a matter of offence : such are the opposite judujments which are formed of the same actions, when seen through tliedifferent mediums ofsplen- dour and of sini|)licit \ . In llie short poiitilicate of MICHELANGIOLO. 1 l'^ the Ibc to that magnificence which lias deeply injured the great power of the popedom, the only records in the history of art respecting Michel- angioJo are, that, by the command of Cardinal Giuliano de'Medici, he evinced his talents as an architect, in building a library and sacristy to the church of St. Lorenzo at Florence. In the new sacristy, also, he erected about this time monu- ments to the memory of the Dukes Giuliano and Lorenzo de'Medici. A statue of the Madonna with an infant Jesus, by Michelangiolo, likewise ornaments the sacristy. On the death of Hadrian, the Cardipal Giuliano became supreme pontift' under the title of Clement VIL Florence attempted to emerge from the preponderating influence of the Medicean family ; and in the war which ensued, Bonarruoti fortified the capital of Tuscany ; and such was the strength of his bul- warks, and so judiciously chosen were his out- posts, that the siege lasted for several months. So high was his reputation as a politician and a mili- tary engineer, that when, in the course of the siege, he left the city in disgust at the treachery of some of the leaders, much solicitation was used (and at length successfully) to cause his return. On the surrender of Florence, Michel- angiolo sought concealment, either in the house of a friend, or in the tower of a church j but VOL. I. I 114 MICHELANGIOLO. when the Pope oflered him security on condition of his returning to his hibours in St. Lorenzo, lie quitted his place of secrecy. The pontificate of Clement VII. is generally marked as the time when ^lichclangiolo formed his celebrated statue of Christ, intended for an altar-piece in the church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva. The splendour of the Sistine chapel, arising from its painted ceiling and arches, gave birth to the desire in the mind of Clement VII. that his pontificate should be celebrated by similar honour to that of Julius II.; and accordingly he wished that Bonarruoti would represent on the sides of that chapel the fall of the angels, and the last judgment. The cartoon of the former only was completed when the Pope died; but Paul III., already alluded to as an admirer of Michelan- giolo, in a visit which he paid to him in person, attended by ten cardinals, prevailed on him to cover the enormous fa9ade over the altar of the chapel with a fresco painting of the day of judg- ment. Not more than seven years were occu- pied in this composition ; and the chapel was opened to the admiration of the world on Christ- mas day, in the year 1541, Paul III. being supreme ])ontiti'. A yearly i)ension for life of twelve hundred golden crowns, granted by Clement VII. and confirmed by Paul, III., was MICIIELANGIOLO. 115 the artist's reward. Miciielangiolo's last works in fresco were in the Pauline chapel. He chose for his subjects the conversion of St. Paul and the crucifixion of St. Peter. But in these per- formances he fell far short of the excellence which he had displayed in the Sistine chapel. He was more than seventy years of age, however, when he finished these concluding efforts. (48) Bonarruoti, in the reign of Pope Paul HI. and several succeeding pontiffs, was distinguished as an architect as well as a sculptor and painter. Various public buildings at Rome were raised under his care, or from his designs. Pie changed the Thermae of Dioclesian into a Christian church. But I cannot mention a finer proof of his architectural taste and science than the cornice that ornaments the Faruese palace. According to general opinion, it is only inferior to tiie cornice on the Strozzi palace at Florence, copied by the architect Cronaca from the antique. But the greatest subject whicli Michelangiolo was en- gaged upon was the building of St. Peter's, a church which, as we have seen, arose in con- sequence of the intentions of Pope Julius II. respecting his own mausoleum. Tlie pontiff' entrusted the memorable enterprize to Bramante, who was eminent above most men of his time for Mls knowledge of Grecian architecture. The I '2 116 MU Mr.I.\S(.I(H.O. <»I(1 ilimcli had \)cv\\ eriTtiil liv llie arcliilects of Coiistaiitiiu' tlio (iiiMt ii|)t)n the ruins of tlic Circus of N't TO, ill a \alk'}' formed l)y two hillocks of the Mount N'atican, and intowliicli the waters of" those hillocks descended. Hni- inante, witii a prcvipitation latal to the remain- ing heaiitii's ot" ancient art, le\i'lii'il \vitii the groiiiiil a inoietv of the ohl churcli, and upon its site connnenced tlie new one. On the IStliot' A})ril, l.>(Ki, .Iiihus II. placed the first stone. The work was pnrsiieti with such ardour during the eontemjiorai V lives of Julius and Ihamante, that the result always served as the foundation for the plans of otlier artists, however inclined they might be to depart from the ideas of their predecessors. The four enormous pillars of the cupola were raised, each of them being one liun- dreil and eighty feet in height, and two hundred and forty feet in ciii-innference. The inter- mediate arches were also finished i)V Bramante, anil the western branch of the cross was con- siilerably ailvanced. After the death of the prelate and his architect, l\)])e Leo X. appointed Giuliano San (iailo, Father (iiocondo, and tiie great Rafaello, to carry on the work. The last named artist was a valuable coadjutor, because his relation, Bramante, had not left any finished plan behind him, and Kafaello alone possessed a MK HEI.WfJIOLO. 117 iijiiiute acquaintance with his ideas. Bramante had, on his death bed, expressed a wish that Rafiiello should be his successor. When tlie new architects investigated the subject, tliey found a vast disproportion between the intended cu])o]a, and the piMars designed for its support. Tlie cupola, meant to be ol' tlie dimensions of the Pantheon, and liighly ornamented with columns, would have been an enormous and overwhelming mass. The pillars, indeed, already seemed to be inade- (juate to their object. The foundations of the churcli were now suspected to be insecure : and it was necessary that the labours of reparation should precede those of advancement. In the short remainder of the lives of San Gallo, Giocondo and Rafaello, nothing more was done than the strengthening of the foundations of the four j)illars. New jjlans were formed by new- architects, but not executed : and during the |)()ntiHcates of Hadrian Vl. and Clement VH. but little progress was made ; for the former Pope wished to recruit the state finances, and the latter j)()ntiff was chiefly occupied in wai". In the time of Paul 111. Antonio San (iailo, wh(» lor manv vears had been nominal architect in chief of St. Peter's, produced, after a twelve- month's labour, a new model; which, on being offered to the cMiticisin of connoisseurs, was 1 V> 118 MI(HKLA\(.I(>I.(). openly condciniiLcl 1)\ Mitlii'lanpoU) for llie viistncss of its plan, Xhc monstrous clisproportioiLs of its parts, the size and \vei<]jht of the cupola, and the excessive number of its arcades and columns. The nioilel was however formally adopted, hut San (iallo died, (A. I), l^iti,) without having the glory to execute it, or the mortification to see it altered by another. Paul ill. then wished to conride the execution ol' the structure to the greatest genius of his age. Michelangiolo knew the enmity wiiich he should encounter from the ])artisans of San Gallo, and at first declined the task. The l\)j)e was impera- tive ; yet the thunilers of the \'atican ilid not shake the artist's mind. The religious princij)li' however of promoting the glory of Goil iii- riuenced him to undertake the work. Consistently with tliis noble sentiment, he refused all ])ecu- niary rewards, and has always worked without emolument on a Temj)le which hitherto has en- riched its architects. He rejected the plan o\' San Ciallo, and in a few days made a new one, both grand and beautifiil. At the end of three years he had again strengthened the enormous pillars of the cupola, which always excited the first attention of" architects, and had crowned the four arcades with a circular entablature. He has covereil anew witli stone snel) parts of the MICHELANGIOLO. llf) building as were finished. He has built also the north and south branches of the cross. The time of Michelangiolo*s architectural labours has been the most vexatious part of his life ; such parts of the Papal funds as had for their object the erection of the church have often been applied to other ends, and therefore his plans have proportionably suffered in their execution. He has vigorously opposed the subordinate artifi- cers, and the furnishers of materials, who are bent only upon personal emolument, and his virtue has subjected him to every species of hostility. His letters to his friends testify too plainly his perpetual anxiety and mortifications. (49) On the professional merits of Bonarruoti, 1 can offer no observations that are new or remarkable, for his genius is acknowleged and his charac- teristics are known. The world has many kings, but only one Michelangiolo, as Pietro Aretino, with more than his accustomed attention to truth, used to say. *' II mondo ha molti re, ed un solo Michelangiolo." The superiority of the artist does not appear in the works of the chisel, for fine as are the Moses at the se- pulchre of Julius H., and the Christ in the church of Santa Maria Sopra Minerva, the atitique sta- tues still remain the wonder of the art. The I 1. I'Jd .Ml( IIK.I, WC.IOF.O. iiiiklness, tcn(lenu's>, arul icpose in llic Pietii, arc wliat sculpt iirr never excelled, and it is re- garding this group more tlian his grainier forms, that Michehingiolocan he mentioned with iionor in com|)any witli the ancients. He has finished but few of the works in sculpture which he commenced, for in his own judgment he perpe- tually failed in ex])ressing his ideas. The im- perfect busts of IJrutus, and of a female face are shown at Florence as proofs of his genius and modesty. I have seen also at Rome many other incomplete statues by him, particularly a fine group of the descent from the Cross. Nor could he overcome the severity of his own cri- ticisms when he attempted to restore the arm oi the Laocoon. His friends talk with pride and won- der of the amiable humUity of his mind. He has lately been shown a drawing made by him while a scholar of (Jhirlandaio, and has comment upon it was, that he knew his art better when he was a youth than he did then. •* I still go to school to improve myself," was his remark to the Cardi- nal Farnese, who expressed surprise at seeing him, when more than eighty years of age, view with a student's eye the walls of the Coliseum. (50) The genius of Michelangiolo appears in much of the architecture of modern Rome. Hut it is in the paintings in the Sistinc chapel that 10 Micrii:LA\c;ioi,(j. 121 his powers arc most strikingly displayed. It is there that he shines as a master in the epic of paintintr, and stands forth as the Homer of his art. He has filled, his world with people of a race superior to ours ; not with mere exag- gerations of the human form, but beings whose grandeur is more expressive than all individual peculiarities of character. He has touched every part of nature. I have found my mind expand into sublimity on contemplating the personifica- tion of the Supreme Being, in the centre of the Sistine chapel, and I thought there was more than mortal elegance and grace in the person of Eve turning herself in gratefid adoration to the Author of her being. In colouring, Michelau- giolo knows, but has seldom practised, the theory of chiaroscuro. A simple force and relief produce his distinguishing breadth of manner. He is often capricious and eccentric in his de- sign, and ostentatious of his anatomical knowledge in execution, particularly in the last judgment ; and, as Dante frecpieutly appears more a lecturer than a poet, so lionarruoti occasionally seems rather an anatomist than a painter. Perhaps the most indefensible point in Michelangiolo's style is his mixture of sacred and profane mat- ters, the angels of the Apocalypse, with the lerryman of Acheron ; Christ ami Minos a> l'J'2 MFC nF.LAN(;i()I.O. judires. Natire too was not thought inconsistent with the terrors of the last day, and the artist has represented in the person of Minos the master of the ceremonies of tlie Papal court, who had cen- sured the nudities of some of the figures. (61) The subhinity of idea which distinguishes Michelangiolo in his fresco paintings was na- ture's gift. He has cultivated it by a diligent study of the antique. Nor has he neglected any means of expanding and invigorating his fancv. Dante was his favourite author, and many of that poet's daring flights are painted on tlie walls of the Sistine chapel. (.O^) Michelangiolo covered the margin of his folio copy of Dante with draw- ings of the princij)al subjects. But the book is unfortunately lost. He displayed his admira- tion of his illustrious countryman, by offering to erect a sarcophagus in the church of Santa Maria \uova, in Florence, if the remains of that poet could be brouglit thither from Ferrara. The ofi'er was declined by Pope Leo X. But our zeal for the arts will be too violent, if we con- clude that this refusal was dictated by contempt of Michelangiolo's genius. The Ravennesc have always been proud of possessing the ashes of Dante ; and, powerful as were the Popes, they were in some cases obliged to defer to national opinions. MKHELANCilOLO. 1'23 Tliough Miclielangiolo is in general siin])le and affectionate, yet he is proud and irritable wlien the dignity of his art is insulted. Of this (hsposition, I have heard two favorite anec- dotes ; yet I cannot say that the conclusion of the first story is correspondent to its conmience- ment. In a moment of anger, at being refused admittance to Pope Julius II., on a subject of great importance to art, lie left Rome for Flo- rence, desiring his servants to sell his furniture to the Jews. To the Papal letters for his return, the offended artist replied, that, if he was unwor- thy yesterday of his Holiness' esteem, he was still unworthy. The Pope then demanded his person from the government of Florence, pro- mised him pardon and favor in case of his return, and imputed his error to the usual caprice and irritability of literary men, with which disposi- tions Julius said he was well acquainted. Mi- rhelangiolo thought of cpiitting Italy altogether, and accepting some liberal offers from the Turkish Emperor, to build a bridge from Constantinople to Pera. The Gonfaloniere of Florence dreaded the dangers of a war with so high-spirited and martial a pontiff as Julius II., and at length persuaded Bo- narruoti to go in the sacred character of ambas- dor to the Pope, at Bologna. He went, and was introduced to his Holiness, who said to him with I'JI .MICHKI-ANCIOI o. iiiurc anger tliaii kiiuliU'ss, in liis toiif oi' \oico, " ^ Oil i'Xj)cctt'(l wc should come to you, not you to us," alluding to the fact, tluit Bologna was nearer to Florence than to Rome. Michelangiolo was humble in language and in manner; and incon- sistent with the pride of character which he had hitherto sustained, he acknowledged his error in beinj; too sensible ol'what he considered unme- rited disgrace, and implored })ardon. A courtier — bishop in attendance, wlio for once mistook the feeling in his master's mind, othciously enireatetl pardon for the artist on the ground of his igno- rance of the world. But the Pope was indignant at him for reviling a man of genius, and dismissed Iiim from his presence. His Holiness then blessed Michelangiolo, and took him into favor. (.58) Pope .Julius III. was compelled by tile rank and abilities of some enemies of the artist, to appoint a commission for the j)ur])ose of enipiir- ing into the state of" the chinch of St. Peter's. The subject of the chief complaint was the want of light, particularly in a recess designeil lor three chapels, and which was then illuminated only through three windows. The l\)j)e slated the circumstance to Miciielangiolo, and he re- plied, that he wished to hear the deputies. The Cardinal Marcellus saiil, pointing lo himselfand MIC FfKLAKGIOLO. 125 his companions, " We are tlie deputies." Mi- cliclangiolo then observed, ** Over those three windows I sliall make three more." *' You never told us tliat," observed the Cardinal. The artist indignantly rejoined, " I am not, nor will J ever be compelled to tell Your Eminence or any one else what I ought or what I intend to do. Your office is to furnish the necessary money lor the building of" the church, to drive away thieves, and to leave the care of the architecture to me." " Holy Father," said Michelangiolo, turning to the Pope, " where is my reward. If these vex- ations ])romote not my spiritual welfare, I lose my time and my labor." The Pope, who loved him, put his hands upon his shoulders, and re- ])lied, ** Your reward is both now, and will be also in the world to come." (^-i) The union of virtue and genius has never been more conspicuous in any individual than in Bo- narruoti. His life has not been shaded by any immorality. He has talked ofj and written poems on, love, more like a Platonist than an ordinary man, and his friends have never heard him utter a word that is inconsistent with perfect purity. He held in deepest admiration, Vittoria Colonna, Marchioness of Pescara, the most accomplished woman of her age. She frequently went from 1*26 Mi» Jii.i ^\<.Iol.o. Vitcrho to Ronu', in oriler to coiiteiuplate his works and to enjoy his society. He visited her in her last moments, and it was observed by his friends as a proof of the simpHcity and elevation of his mind, tliat he often afterwards lamented, he had not on that occasion imj)rinted a kiss of respect- fnl affection on her lips. (.OS) He has never been marrieil, and lie once answered a friend's lament- ation that he had no family to whom he coidd leave his fortune, by saying, ♦♦ My art is my wite and that is a sufficient subject of care and an- xietv ; and my works in the fine arts are the chil- dren that I shall leave behind me. The rela- tions of Lorenzo Ghiberti have long since wasted the pecuniary results of his abilities and labor, but the bronze doors which he affixed to the church of San Giovanni at Florence deserve to be the gates of Paradise, and will give immor- tal reputation to his name." (56) Michelangiolo has lived with patriarchal sim- plicity of manners : he is generous to his friends, kind in manner, except to the presumj)tuonsly ignorant, and of a beneficent and tentler dispo- sition. Being a skilful mechanic, he pre})ared his own scaffolding for his first great work in the Sistine chapel, and liberally gave the profits of the machinery to the poor carpenter who exe- cuted his orders. He made a donation of two WICHLLASUIOLO. 1^ thousand crowns to his servant Urbino, to prevent the necessity of his seeking a new service in case of hismaster'sdeath. 15ut the attendant died first. Miclielangiolo, though more than eighty years of age, consoled his last moments, and nothing can be more amiable than the manner in which he describes his loss. In a letter to a friend he says, that, he who had in life made life valuable to him, had in death taught him to die, not only without regret, but with desire of death. " He was a most faithful servant to me for twentv-six years, and when I hoped to find him the staff and repose of my old age, he is taken from me, and there remains only the hope of seeing him in Paradise. That he is gone thither, God has shown to me by the tranquillity of his death. The thoughts of death did not distress him so much as the idea of leaving mc in this treacherous world with so many troubles about me." (.57) It was on a morning in the early part of Fe- bruary, \5(jSt that I recorded this amiable trait in the private history of Miclielangiolo, and 1 was musing on the age and worldly state of the artist, when the public news reached me that the subject of my reflections was ill of a fever. 1 immediately went to his house, and I saw there the painter Daniello da Volterra, who confirmed the rumour, adding the circumstance, that, by the I'JS MU HEI.ANGIOI.O. desire of liis friend, whose illness was regarded as alarming by liinisiH', lie had written to liis nej)hew Lionardo Bonarriioti to hasten from Florenee to Home, livery suceecding inquiry at the house heightened my fears that Michel- angiolo's j)resages of death would be verified, and t)ne (lav, before his nephew could possibly have completed his journey, 1 learnt that the disor- der had so suddenly and violently increased that the venerable artist, knowing the moment of his dissolution was at hand, had called his friends to his bed-side, and in three brief sentences hail expressed his final will. He commended his soul into the hands of God, he consigned his body to the earth, and he gave his property to his rela- tions, whom he exhorted in their passage through this life to remember the sufferings of Jesus Christ ; and this religious injunction formed tiie last words that he was heard to utter. (.08) On the 17th of February, Michelangiolo expired : had lu'ii\ed but a fortnight longer, his existence would have extended through eighty-nine years. The temperance of his habits, rather than any peculiar strength of constitution, preserved him througii this long career. Though often rich, considering his profession, yet he always lived like a poor man, thinking, as he says in one of MICHELANCIOLO. 1^ his poems, that as the hf'e of man is short, so his necessities are few. Che'l tempo e breve, e*l neccssario poco. On the third day after his deatli I went to the church of St. Apostoh, and witnessed his funeral. All Rome was crowded within the walls, and the grief that was marked in the countenances, or expressed in the manner of the spectators, testi- fied the sentiment that the loss was irreparable. I need not describe the funeral solemnities, for they had nothing in them tiiat was remarkable ; but there was deep pathos in inclosing the body with a robe of green velvet, the distinction of Florentine citizenship. (59) The whole public and domestic life of the artist came at once before my mind, when I beheld the characteristic vesture of his country serving for his grave- clothes. Notwithstanding these ceremonies in St. Apos- toli, a foreign land was not destined to retain his relics. Lionardo Bonarruoti opened the tomb about a fortnight afterwards, and secretly con- veved the remains to Florence, where he deposited them in the family sepulchre in the church of Santa Croce — thus fidfiUing the desire often expressed by Michelangiolo, that his bones should repose near those of his fatlier. Public VOL. I. K 130 MICHEL ANGIOLO. pjnitituilc, and M-neralioii t'^ the incniory ol" a man who hail icHcctc'd such honour upon Tus- cany, yet renuiincil to be expressed. Tlie painters and sculptors of Florence were pecu- liarly zealous in desiring that liis obse(|uies should be solemnized in a manner calculated to evince their sense of the ooligations which his genius had conferred on the arts. On the 14th of Jidy in the lollowing year, by permission oi" the (irand Duke, high mass was celebrated in the church of St, Lorenzo. The Florentine academicians displayed various expressive em- blems ol' painting and scidpture. After the j)rayers ol" the church had been otiered to Heaven tor the repose of Michelangiolo's soul, Benedetto Varchi, a friend of the deceased, mounted a tribunal, and delivered a funeral oration. All the ceremonies were extremely solemn and magnificent. The church of St. Lo- renzo was chosen as the place of celebration, for in that church there were so many instances of Michelangiolo's abilities as a sculptor and an architect. (()0) MICHELANGIOLO. 131 Such were Ilafacllo and Michelangiolo, the painters — one of tlie graceful, the other of the subHme, of nature, of humanity in its selectest forms, or appearing in all tlie attributes of dig- nity and grandeur with whicli genius can invest it. They were not more indebted to artists than other artists have been, nor did they more dili- gently cultivate their powers. It was nature alone that raised them above their fellow men. If we compare their works with those of other painters, they seem to have had no precursors. If we join Lionardo da A'^inci, Corregio, and Tiziano to Rafaello and Michelangiolo, it may be said that the imitative arts have been created anew in modern times ; and as their works realize all those ideas of excellence which in- vention, chastened by judgment, has formed, we may add, that painting receivA^d its j)erfection as well as its birth in the same age. Tliis is the last honour of Italy, the ca})ital that crowns the column of Italian lame. The fourteenth and fifteenth centuries boast of the creation of Ita- lian ])oetry and the revival of the ancient philo- sophy : the glory of the ])resent age arises from liaving created and })erl"ect(.Hl ihe imitalive arts. Ill my accounts of Rafaello and Michelangiolo, 1 have comprised all my observations on tlie state K 'J iS'i t N't.KW 1N(.. of painting anil sculptuie at Rome. I have pre- ferred to speak ol" njost of the great works of these artists as connected with their lives, rather tijan in association with the Vatican or other places, whose walls they ornament. It' I had been an hasty traveller, I shonld have set doww my remarks on art as the view of" different objects elicited them; but 1 thought that the import- ance of Rafacllo and Miehelangiolo recphred distinct notices of tlieir lives, and that I should be more perspicuous if I collected into one space all that related to them, and therein all that is interesting on modejn art in Rome. 'Inhere is only one subject which I have hatl no opportu- nity hitherto to treat of, and to that subject 1 proceed. i:X(JKAVING. fni: art of taking impressions from engraveil nu'tal plates is peculiarly modern. Engraving may be called the handmaid of painting ; and, inasmuch as it multiplies copies of the produc- tions of genius, its value is not inferior to that of tlu- art ot j)rinting. Tiie mouldering touch of time may efl'ace many beauties from the walls of the \'atican, but they may gain a new immor- KNGRAVINC;. \33 tality from the labours of the engraver. I used to hear warm disputations between the German and Itahan virtuosi at Rome, concerning the country to which may be ascribed the honour of invent- ing the new art. Tlie Germans affirmed that their nation was the original one. The art in question immediately followed that of printing, which was undoubtedly of transalpine birth. Even in printing cards of amusement, Germany antedated Italy. Originally the figures of those cards were marked with a pen, or painted with a brush ; but the engraving of them on wooil, and then taking the required im})ressions, were arts which were practised in Germany in the year IS'jG. In Italy, however, the original ]>ractice was not worn out even in the fifteenth ■century, as is apparent from a decree of Filippo Maria Visconti, Duke of Milan. The art of multiplying copies of any impres- sion was soon appUed to more important ends than those of mere amusement. Figures of saints with short legends were pnnted, and many other books on subjects of the popular religion succeeded. The art was employed in order to furnish the poor with tliat knowledge which the paucity and expence of manuscripts kept from tliem. Almanacks likewise were made. 'J'he artificers took so little merit in their perfonn- K •> 1^4 KNGRAVIM^. aiiccs, tliat llicy mKIohi .illixcil llicir names to their works. In the progress of iinprovenient, the use of metal types was the next an».l greatest step. It was seen that impressions of wonls could be taken from metal types ; and the idea that impressions of figures couhl be taken soon i'olloweil. Thus block-printing was the original both of letter-press j)rinting and of copj)er-plate j)rinting. Particular facts supported this general historical statement. Many impressions liom engraved coppers were dated belore the time whicii tile Italians set up as the icra of their dis- covery ; and Martino Schoen, of C'ulmbacli in Franconia, who died in 1 tSCi, practised the art bei'ore Finiguerra. On the other hand, the Italians denietl the priority of the Germans even in wood en- graving. That art, they saitl, had been j)ractiseil at Kavcnna so early as the year li285 ; and the only fair conclusion from the Milan decree was, that wood engra\ ing had not altogether super- seded the ancient ])ractice. A decree of the Venetian Senate, in MM, forbids all cards anil pictures to be sold in Venice, unless they were engraved by Venetian artists. This decree is evidence ot" tlie geJieral practice of the art in other cities, Witii resj)ect to chalcograj)hy, withou^ entering uito the subject of the connec- EXGRAVIXf;. 135 tion between the various branches of printing, the Itahans contended tliat the mode of takinj!: impressions from engraved copper-plates had nothing to do with the typographical art; tliat indeed it sprung from the art of niello^ and not from that of common printing. Tlie goldsmiths used to work the golden ornaments lor churches, and the various ornaments of domestic luxury. They are engravers, medallists, antl embossers, and, a circumstance more perhaps to the present ])urpose, workers in niello. The artist designs his ornaments with a point of steel on the silver utensil, and then engraves them with his burin. Mis niello is a composition of silver, lead, co})per, sulphur, and borax, which being mixed over a fire becomes black and brittle. He lays the niello on the engraved plate, which is placed near a fire of green wood, and the flame driven on the niello dissolves it, and in that state the. niello fills the engraving. To judge of the effect, or to preserve a memorial of his work, the artist was accustomed to take an impression on fine earth of his engravings in silver; on this impres- sion he used to pour licpiid sulphur, which, when it became cold and the earth was removed, and the cavities were filled witli a mixture of soot and oil, exhibited an appearance similar to that of the silver, with its chiaroscuro of niillo. K 1. 130 I .\(.U.\\ ING. Besides these impii'ssions taken tiom earthen moulds ill siilpluir, an artist once tridy conjec- tured, that whin the engraved work was filled with soot and oil he might take the impressions on damp paj)er, by pressing a smooth wooden roller over it. He did so, and the impressions thus produced looked like drawings made with a pen. Mareo rinignena, a gold and silversmith ot" Flo- rence, was the artist, according to the general opinion of the Italians, that made this last im- provement in niello, an improvement which contained the great principle of chalcography. The year 1440, or perhaps a short time earlier, was the a?ra of the discovery. Proper ink soon was used, copper was ])refcrred to soft metals, anil ingenuity suggesteil various other improve- ments. Finiguerra's engravings are remarkable for correctness of drawing, elegant variety of attitudes, and general purity of style. The Italians acknowleged that the art of printnig hail been brought from Ciermany to Italy, by Conrad Sweynheym, and his com- panions, but they denied that the art of engrav- ing had been brought with it. The dates of prints and the names of engravers have been so often forged by inferior artists, to give celebrity to works which they sell for those of others, that no conclusions can be drawn from such ap- KNGKAVINO. \S7 peals lo antiquity and authority. I''iniguorra's art soon became known over all Italy, and with- out denying the possibility of" the Germans de- tlucing by legitimate reasoning the art of engra^ - ing from the art of printing, it may be said that Finiguerra's discovery could ])ass immediately from Italy to Germany, for the Italian universi- ties were crowded with German students. So great indeed was the influx from the north at the close of the fifteenth century, that, for the convenience of strangers, dictionaries of the German language were printed at Venice, in the year 1475, and at Bologna in 1479. The tleci- sion of the question of priority may be facilitated by the following consideration. Typography was invented in Germany, and gradually per- fected from wooden blocks to wooden scj)arate characters, and then to metal types. The Italians, without passing through these degrees of imperfection, received the art from Germany, printed books, and ornamented them with en- graved plates. But the German engravings show none of those steps in improvement which German typography exhibits. It is interesting to observe, that many men of genius both in Italy ami (jermany have cul- tivated the art of chalcography. It has not been left to goldsmiths. Some of the tirbt |)aintLr^ 138 KNGItAVINf.. «»r tliu (lay ail' anioii^ tlu" liivst ni^ravcrH. Aii- ilii'U Maiita^na, llic master of Convgio in paint- ing, llirow nnicii of tlu' rharactrr of classical anti(|iiity iiit<» Ins prints. Andrea iuul liir greater powers (il tancv than Antonio I'olajnolo, a i'lo- rentine artist, wlio lias, however, the merit ol attending more than most artists to the anatomy ol his t'oi ins. riu" irii'lnatiil Parmigiano used tiu' graver as well as the peiieil. Thoiigh not the inventor of etching he was certaiidy the first artist that practised it in Italy. The grace ol" his heads and the elegance oC his figures appear in his etch- ings, though in a less striking ilegree than in his paintings, for he was very deficient in tin- mechanism of' his subject ; we therefore may ob- serve in his etchings a perpetual difliculty to express tin- heautiliil forms which tloateil in his fancy. iiafaello ni\ i-r handled the graver himself", l)iit he fre(piently directed the labors of Marcan- tonio Kaimonib ; a man whom he valued so highly as to mtroiluce his portrait in tlie |)icluri' of Ileliodorus. This engraver originally |)rac- tised all the branches of the goldsmith's trade at Hologna. He was a pupil in drawing of Fran- eesi(» Maria Kaibolini, generally calli'ti Francesco I'Vancia, a llolognese painli i . wlm, it In saul. din! KNCIIAVINO. iiiU of mortiticatioii on liiuling that the nu'rit of Kafacllo was siijjcrior to his own. Maicanlonio never piesnnieil at conijjetitorsliip with tlie artist of the \'atiean, anil lonncl lull exercise tor his nitelleetiial powers in inihihiiif^ his precepts ami contemplating his works. He niaile engravings i»l"sevcral ot'his Hnest paintings, and by the power of his graver has s))rea(l the celebrity of several .sketches aiul ilrawings, that woiilil otiierwise have been kept from vulgar gi\/e in the cabinets of thecnrions. Uaimondi is certainly the finest artist that has liitherto appeared. His drawing is correct, his heads are beantifnl, and his figures are in elegant attituiles. i'he severity of statuary sometimes, indeed, is visible, but it must be ob- served that that severity is piue, ami perfectly free from the Gothic barbarism ot" his predecessors. His style is as simple and unambitious as that of Kafaello, anil will not please those connoisseurs whoailmire only meretricious ornaments. He was as modest in his mind as in his works, and he was not less liberal than humble. It was deliirht- ful to hear him talk of Albert Durer, who was almost the only artist that coidd contend with him for the palm. Kaimondi told me with '^-reat pleasure, that in return tor Durer's present of iiis picture and some engravings, Kafaello had sent not a mere com})liment, but his portrait and some I M' M.ur.itr or ki;|{. (lesions, f did not Kmim iIji- circumstance t'lom the artist himself, l)iii it is well known that Raimondi, while in liisyoiitli practising j)aintin«; at \ enice, n)et witli some enu^ravings on wood .ind copper l)y All)crl Durer, wliich had heen l»ronghl to X'cnicc 1)V thi* trading Flemings. Kaimomli then ct>))ied many of the woodcuts of Dnrer's hfe of the Madonna, counterfeited I )urer's mark, and sold tliem as the genuine works of the Cierman. Al.HKUr Dlin.K. I si(\ii hirnd liaimontU's euU)giums on l)iiiei', willi in\ own oj)iiiions and a few histori- cal i'acts. Durer was born at Nureml)erg in the Mar 1171. His fatlier was a gohlsmitli, and Ail)ert, like Marcantonio, practised in liis yoiitli both the mechanical and the fine arts. Michael \\'ohigriinitli taiigiit liim the manner of engrav- ing on wooil and co})))er, and also etching. I Ic wished to study under Maiiino Schoei>, imt that artist died, before it was convenient for Albert to beconic his pupil, and he therefore oidv studied his prints. Durer wrote treatises on ;niatom\, |)erI (Tiocian poets. The only remains of that oriirin are to be found in the language, which contains more Greek words and inflections than any otlier dialect of the Italian. The epithet, otiosa, may in some respects be as a{)plicable to Naples now as it was in the days of Horace, or indeed of Pe- trarca, who also applied it. The climate is still soil and seducing ; and nature is so rich in her spontaneous productions, that she requires but slight assistance from man. But there is matter for a literary stranger's observation at Naples, though it is not of so interesting a nature as what the state of letters in many other cities presents. The Neapolitan Academy can boast of well filled professorships of most branches of deep and polite learning. The number of scholars is great, and the tone of intellect is higli. The causes of the present literary eminence of Naples are of long operation. The south of Italy was never sunk so low in barbarism as the north. The spirit of civilization was preserved by the commercial city of Amalfi. The Normans were more s})lendid and luxurious than any ))eopl^ of the tenth century ; and when they possessed themselves of Magna Cirajcia, the state of manners whicli they found there syffered no deterioration, lieneven- tum and Sicily were so often in the hands of the Saracens, that oriental literature and custom> I, 1- 15'2 SALHUNLM. insensibly blendccl theniselvcs witli the Italian niiiul. Arabic knowledge, wliether original or translated tioni the (ireek, was so mnch spread, that a college, tiie one at Salei innn, arose, llip- j)ocrates was in those days, tiie tenth century, in higher estimation than Aristotle, and the iieal- ing art was the object of study. Indeed, medi- cine forms a conspicuous feature in the scientific character of the Saracens, and the knowledge of the times, such as it was, was mostly Saracenic. In the eleventh century Constantine, who had been banished from Carthage, on account of his learning, which was called necromancy, s})ent his last days in the south of Italy. He had tra- versed most of the east, he had gathered much of the treasures of oriental letters, and, as if with a view to the Salernitan C'ollege, particularly works on medicine. He translated many of those works, and wrote upon the subject himself. The virtue of the vSalernitan precepts was for many ages implicitly believed in by most of the western nations ; and the founders of the colleges of medicine that gradually arose in Paris and other great cities, took the school of Salernum as the model of their institutions. The monks some- times, howe\er, relied more upon miracles than scientific knowledge. In the tenth centuiy ))eople flocked to Salernum tor cnie>^, for when SALERNUM. 153 the relics of Saint Matthew were transported to that })lace, wonders were performed. Even in the twelfth century, Saint Bernard was invited thither to repair by miracles the ignorance of physicians. It is more interesting to observe, that three years study of logic was necessary for the taking of a title in medicine at Salernum. The candidate must also have studied medicine and surgery for five years ; and even after all this labour he was to practise for a year under the eyes of an experienced physician. There are not a few curious particulars relating to the Salernitan College : many of them were regulations of the Emperor Frederick II. As physic was consi- dered a part of Christian charity, a medical prac- titioner was forbidden from taking fees from the poor. He was obliged to visit his patient twice a day, if the patient lived with the walls of tiie })hysican*s town. The sick man might disturb his doctor once in the course of the night ; and all the three visits were to be compensated by a fee of twenty pence. Physicians were especially forbidden from kee])ing a shop, or of agreeing with an apothecary for the price of medicines. Druggists were obliged to have attestations of merit from the faculty, and to swear that they would prepare medicines after the Pharmaccrpeia of the Salernitan school. The })ricc ol'medicincs 151- KAUI.Y IIALIAN rOKTKY. was also rcgiilatcnl. The apothecary and druu;- i^ist of every town were under the inspection of men aj)pointed by the Salernitan College. That college was hiy:li in name for four centu- ries ; l)ut it was finally quite ccHpseil by those of Paris and Bologna. (()!') EARLY ITALIAN POETRY. One great consequence of the introduction of Arabic letters and manners into the soutli of Kurope was tlie liigli cultivation of poetry. The pomp and luxury of oriental courts WTre imi- tated, the grossness of pleasure was concealed under tlie mantle of intellectual taste, and the ornamented diction of the cast became the vehi- cle of sentiment and passion. The mind, there- fore, revelled amidst splendid images, and ex- pressed itself in poetry. No wonder that Dante has called Sicily the cradle of Italian letters. Petrarca in the iourth part olhisTrionfi d'Amore, and in stronger language in his Familiar K})istles, acknowledges the claims of the Sicilians to pri- ority in })oetry. In his Vita Nuova the former author speaks of no modern poets earlier than those of the twelfth century, who were all Sici- lians or Italians. 'I'hr I'jnperor and King Fre- EAIILY ITALIAN roETUY. 155 dcric II., and liis son Manfrcdi, and their no less celebrated chancellor, Pietro dalle Vigne, de- lighted in the society of the most ingenious men of the time. Every thing that was written first appeared at the Sicilian court, and was called Sicilian, whether composed in the dialect of the island or not. The Sicilians acquired the poetry of the Saracens and Greeks, and in the middle of the thirteenth century, when Charles of An- jou. King of Sicily and brother of the French monarch, married the daughter of Raymond Berenger Count of Proven9e, the Troubadour poetry was engrafted on the Italian stock. The subject of the Sicilian poets was love. But it was a phantasy of the imagination more than a passion of the heart. There was exaggeration instead of simplicity, metaphysical refinement for sentiment and emotion. The peace and war of lovers, the movements and vicissitudes of the affections, were never sung ; and, instead of the transports, hopes, and recollections of passion, we meet with wild allegories, imaginary ecstasies, and logical disputes between the poet and the creature of his fancy, (for a real woman is never seen,) on the nature of love. It is interesting to observe that Dante, under the character of Biionaggiunta, a poet of Lucca, censures the early authors for writing from imagination rather than \:')(\ KAUi.v ir.M.iAN I'oi riiv. rcL'linu', and siibstitutm^ \;nn ornaiiK'nts ol" lan- guage lor the siniplirity and energy of nature. To Dante's observation, tlial lie wrote only accord- ing to the dictates of passion, the Luccan bard replies : — O fratf, issa vegg'io, diss'egli, il nodo, Che'l Notaio, c Guittone, e me ritcnnc Di qua (lal dolcc stil nuovo, ch'i'odo. lo vcfigio ben, come le vostrc penne Diretro al dittator sen vanno strctte, Che delle nostre certo non avvenne. E qual pill u gradire oltre si mette Non ve de piudaH'uno all'altro stilo. Dkl PuHGATonio. Canto '^k' Judging from similarity of poetical character, and from circumstances of social connexion, it may be said that the Provencal poetry is a faint copy of some features of the Arabic muse; and, as I have just remarked, the Troubadours were, in some measure, ancestors of the Sicilian bards. * Brother ! said he, the hind'rancc which once held Tlie notary witli Guittone and myself, Short of that new and hwecter style I hear Is now disclos'd. I see how ye your plumes Stretch as tli' indifer guides them, which no (]uestion Ours did not. IIi- that seeks a grace beyond Sees not the dit>tuiice parts one style from other. C'ahy's Thanslation. EARLY ITALIAN POKTllY. 157 To the common subjects of love, war, aiul (U'\o- tion,tlie Proven9als added the vicesofthe clergy, which formed one of'their most favorite topics of reprehension and satire. The early ItaHan, as well as the Sicilian poets, only sung of love, and in no instance does their inferiority to the bards of Proven9e so strongly appear, as in the circum- stance that they display none of the satirical and encomiastic talents that so oflen relieve theinystic ilulness, and animate the frigid absurdities of the Troubadours. Some of the forms of Trouba- dour verse were used by the early poets of Italy. Guido Cavalcanti, a Florentine, and friend of Dante, was the poet who first adopted the ballad from the Troubadours. The canzone, another form of Proven9al verse, was used by all the early Italian poets, and was perfected by Guittone d'Arezzo, one of the best versifiers in the first age of letters, and wliom Petrarca has often imitated. The sonnet seems to be originally and peculiarly Italian. It was first used in a rude form by Pietro dalle Vigne, and was completed by Guit- tone d*Arezzo. These Sicilian and Italian poets used the language of the court of Sicily, lingua cortigiana, which was one of those dialects that had arisen from a mixture of" the Latin and the languages of the Lombard and other Gothic rulers of Italy. Some Italian writers, out of zeal l.'iS KAitLv HAI.IAN iM)i:ritv. lor the literary honor of tlu'ir country, have ron- ttMuled that their langua/^e has existed for ages; that it was tiu' hiii^iia;j:e ot'coniinon hfe at Koiue, while the Latin was reserved i'or literary and political j)urposes. This opinion is totally des- titute of proof. Equally untenable is the posi- tion that the Itiilian is the original Latin, cor- rnj)te(l only by national vulgarisms. But the origin of the Italian language, in the manner I have first stated, is the assertion of the best Italian scholars, who justify themselves by historical evidence and philological analysis. The Latin and the new dialects struggled long for j)re-enunence, but at the close of the twelfth century the classical language was so little known by the peoj)le, that sermons used to be preached in Latin as the idiom of the great, and then read in the ordinary or vulgar dialect, as the Italian tongue was called, for the edification of the lower classes. The first literary appearance of the po})ular idiom was in poetry. Dante speaks of the vernacular dialect as having existed only one hundred and fifty years, and of its being used by poets to please their mistresses, who were but imperfl'ctly acquainted with Latin. Dante himself commenced his great poem in classical numbers, but soon re-wrote that part, and continueil the work in Italian, in order that NKAPOLITAN MTKUA nUK. l/ljl il might l)c j)cnised by all classes; and this jx)- piihir dialect, whether we call it Tuscan or Ita- lian, though despised by the learned, became the language of" the literature of the nation, w hen it was made the depository of the majestic thoughts of Dante, and the plaintive nuisings of IVtrarca. (05) NEAPOLITAN LITERATURE. The Monks of Cassino always enjoyed a high literary re})utation. In the twelfth century, the Abbot Desiderius, afterwards Pope Victor III., gave as great an impulse to the studies pursued at the monastery, as Constantine Afer had in the preceding century given to those of Salernum. Copies of the Institutes and Novels of Justinian were at Cassino, and there only. The south of Italy was consequently famous for severe studies as well as the pleasures of the imagination. The Kmj)eror Frederick II., encouraged this dis- position to letters. He created the University of Naples, and reformed the school of Salernum. The former of tliese institutions was the acknow- leged rival of the university of Bologna. For the benefit of theSalernitan College, the Emperor causeil manv medical works to be translated HiO N'KAPOMT.W I.ITI RATI UK. t'loin \\\v ( iii'ik ;iii(l Arabic into Latin or Italian. 1 1 is court was the rondczvous of men of" every class of literatine. He established a ])()etical academy at Palermo, and his sons, who culti- vated poetry, were members of it. The ))iiiices of the house of Anjoii imitated the literary sj)irit of Frederick. When the power of the Turk became alarming, and afterwards, when Constanti- noj)le was taken, Naples, on account of the con- venience of its situation, was a city in which many of my expatriated countrymen sought protection. The Arragonese King Alfonso \., is worthy of coeval mention with Pope Nicholas V., and Cosmo de' JMedici. He was an elegant scholar, CiL'sarwas the subject of his studies in the camp, and in the few j)eaceable moments of his gene- rally troublous reign he learnt the arts of war and policy from Livy. His literary patronage was noble and munificent. His secretaries and counsellors were men of letters. He well re- warded those who found an old manuscript ; in the sack of a town its bookish treasures were his share, and when Cosmo de* Medici wanted to conciliate him, it was not by the concession of territory, but by the gift of n fine mamiscript of Livy, that he gained the friendship of the Nea- politan sovereign. Partoh '>ieo Fazio, a learned Genoese, was the favorite of the king. Like Valla, VALLA. 1Y)1 whom I shall presently mention he composed an elegant history of Ferdinando, father of Alfonso, and he was also the historian of the war between Venice and Genoa, in the year 1377* His lives of the principal men of his time are said to be full of candour and judgment. VALLA. Laurentius Valla, banished from Rome, his native city, for disputing tlie extent of the pontifical power, was protected by Alfonso. Valla opened a school at Naples for Greek and Latin elo([uence. His abilities drew to him many disci- })les, but the freedom of his opinions created enemies. He attacked the supposed genuine- ness of the donation of Constantine, and the let- ter of Abogarus to Jesus Christ, and he came under the cognizance of the Inquisition for not thinking that each of the articles of the Creed iiad been composed separately b}- every one of the Apostles. He bitterly condemned the im- morality of the clergy, and he was, in return, most illiberally charged by tliem with heretical opinions on points of the highest consccjuence. IJut the kindness of Alfonso sheltered him fi'om the vengeance of the priests. He was recalleil VOL. I. M l62 VALLA. to Rome by Pope Nicholas \'., ami resided gene- rally in that city till the year 1 1-^7» ^vhe^ he died at the a«;e ol" tilty-eight. In Valhi, as in most miii ol" his time, learnini^ had no mild influence on manners. lie had none of" tlie modesty of genius. He was always making a display of his talents and scholarship, and wished to be a witness of the admiration he desired to excite. IJe was an idolator of Quin- lilian ; and George of Trebizond, a refugee Greek, secretary to Pope Nicholas V., was equally attached to Cicero. This difference of ()])inioii gave rise to j)ersonal hatred. There was an idle ilisj)ute, which one word of exj)lanation might have terminated, between Valla and the celebrated Poggio Bracciolini. The irascible Valla quarreled also witii Fazio. In ail these altercations, the invectives, the calunmies, and libels which each of the antagonists hurled at the other, gave some support to the malevolent suggestion of ignorance, that the only apparent use of learning is to add wings to bitterness of spirit. Poggio's share in these quarrels occupies a large part of the folio edition of his works, printed at Pasle, in IjIO. Valla's abilities ex- tended to the knowledge of most bianehes of literature. His fame rests, I am told, on his history of Ferdinando, King ol Arragon, father PANORMITA. 163 of" Alfonso, and his Elegantia? Linguae Latinai, which contain grammatical rules, and philologi- cal reflections upon the art of" writing Latin elegantly. He was not so consummate a Greek as a Latin scholar, for his translations of" Homer, Thucydides and Herodotus, deserve but little praise. For his version of Homer, it has always been suspected by the learned, that Valla bor- rowed largely from the rare maiuiscript of the translation that Leontius Pilatus made at the request of Boccaccio. PANORMITA. Antonio Beccadelli, or rather Panormita, from Palermo, his birth place, was for some years attached to the court of Philij)pa Maria Visconti, Duke of Milan, and finally fixed himself with Alfonso. The king heaped kindnesses upon him, gave him a beautiful country house, in- scribed his name among the Neapolitan nobility, entrusted him with different important employ- ments, and sent him on various foreign embas- sies. After the death ot" Alfonso, Panormita was not less dear to his successor Perdinando, anil was even attached to him in the (pialities of secretary and counsellor. Antonio I'anormila M 2 nil- PONJANO. was tlie elegant historian ot" Alfonso's life. I>iit lie is chieliy worthy ot" n«)tiee, as the earliest ])oet of modern times who wrote Latin verses with Roman elegance. 'I'his ))raise is accorcleil to Naples by the universal voiee of Italy. I'anor- niita's poem, calletl IK rinaphroclitus, is so ofJ'en- si\ to delicacy, that the council ot" Ferrara, in the year 113[), and many other authorities, burnt the volumes. Had l*auormita been contented to express his religious opinions in the epitaj)h which he intended should be inscribeil on his tomb, tile custom of many nations would have sanctioneil him ; but he need not have called u])on the Muses to lament his death. QuaTite Pierides alium (jui ploret amores, Una-rite qui rogum fortia facta canat. Mc pater ille ingcns lioininuin sator atquc rcdeniptor, Evocat et sedes donat ailirc pias. PONT A NO. I MI ST pass now to Pontano, the pupil of i^anormita, a far more celebrated writer than his master. Pontano was a native of Cereto, in the diocese of Sj)oleto in Ombria. War drove him Iroin his native seat, and he went to Xai)les. His uncuMiinon abilities were noticed by Panor- iM)Nr.\ :•.(), Km niila, \v!io acconi})lisIu\i Iiini in litci-aturc, and iiitroihicod hiin to a court witicli was proiul of" liaving a circle ot literary men. lie was at- taclied to the Kings of Naples during most of his lite; he even accompanied them in their wars as a cavalier, as well as a secretary. He was more than once taken prisoner, but he was always re- leased out of respect to literature. Upon one occasion he was the messenger of his sovereign to Pope Innocent VIII. The negotiations were nearly concluded, when a courtier endeavoured to dissuade his Holiness from signing the treaty, on account of the known i)olitical treachery of the king. " But it is with Pontano whom I treat," exclaimed the Pope, " truth and good taith will never abandon him ; and he will never })art from tliem." The prediction was not veri- fied, for when Charles VIII. conquered Naples, Pontano had the weakness to j)raise the conque- ror in a ])ublic discomse, at the expence of his roval ])enet"actors. I never could learn what was his condition after the sudden retreat of the French. He died in 1503, aged, liked Panor- mita, seventy-seven years. I dismiss, with a general encomium, Pontano's works on history and morals. His Latin poems, written in almost every species of verse, are oithe highest merit, riiey arc rich and elegant ; his mind had the M S I6(j ROTA. grandeur ol' genius, and the gracefulness of taste. He can describe tlie lofty swellings of heroism, and the gentle movements of love. Learned readers delight to search Pontano for poetical beauties ; but as the search requires the eye of taste, and as the poems are very diffuse, Pontano is not a favorite with the idle and superficial reader. The academy at Naples was founded by Panormita, but it owes its celebrity to Pontano. It is a familiar ex})ression among the Nea])()Ii- tans, that as many learned men came from Pon- tano's academy, as there were warriors that issued from the Trojan horse. The idea is taken from Cicero, and is well applied. ROTA (66). Naples boasts her poets in the vernacular idiom, as well as her Latin bards. Rota's lyric verses have much of the elegance and pathos of Petrarca, not unmixed witii graces of his own, as the following sonnet witnesses : Parte del suo natio povero tttto, Da pure voglie acconipaj^nato intorno, Contadin rozzo, e giugnc a be) soggiorno Da chiari regi a graii diporto cletto. TANSILLO. 1()7 Ivi lia tal maraviglia, e tal diletto, Scorgendo di ricche opre il loco adorno, Che gli ocelli, c'l pie non move, c noia, e scorno Prende del dianzi suo caro alberghetto. Tal'avvieiie al pensier, se la bassezza Del nicndico mio stil lascia, e ne vieue Del vostro a conteniplar I'alta ricchezza. Casa, vera niagion del priinobenc In ciii per albergar Febo dispiizza Lo ciel, non ebc Parnaso ed Ipprocrene. TANSILLO (67). We may censure Luigi di Tansillo for mistak- ing ingenious hyperboles, for the out-breaks of passionate feelings, but his sonnets display a rich vein of imagination, and a perfect mastery of poetical language. Petrarca himself never used selectcr expressions, or more musical rhymes, in describing the beauty and repose of rural life, than Tansillo has poured forth in the sonnet of which a delightful fountain is the theme : E freddo e il fonte, e ehiarc, e crcspc ha I'ondc : E molli erbe verdeggian d'ogn' intorno : E '1 platano co i rami, e'l salcc, c Torno Scaccian Febo, che '1 crin talor ci asconde : E I'aura appena le piti lievi fronde Scuote, si dolce spira al bel soggiorno : Ed e '1 rapido Sol sul mezzo giorno : E versan fiammc le cam])agnc bioiule. M 1. 108 COSTANZO. Fcrmate sovra 1' umiclo snuTaldo, Vaj,'lii.' NiNPR, i hoi pic, cli" oltra ir iioii poiiiio ; SI stanche, ed arse al corso, cd al Sol sictr. Dara ristttro alia stanilu'/za il sonno ; Verde onihra, cd aura rctVigcrio al caldo: E Ic vive ac(|ue spcgneran la sete. 1 am not desirous to crowd my work with ex- tracts fi-om printed books, and I shall, therefore, onlv make a general reference to the sonnet beujinning with the Hne " Orrida notte, che rin- chiusa il negro." It is a fine contrast to the fore- going verses, and describes, in dark and solemn colours, the horrors of a stormy night. Tansillo has also written two poems of some length, one called II Podere,orthePleasuresofaCountryLifej the other, La Balia, or the Nurse, a poetical and affecting exhortation to married women to nurse tlieir own cliildren. These poems have hitherto been only circulated in manuscrij)t among {hv fi'iends of the author. COSTANZO (G8). The Italians delight in praising the lyrics of Angelo da Costanzo. That writer sings in the well approved fashion of Italian lovers, that he cannot describe the face of his mistress, for the COSTANZO. 169 splendour ol' her beauty dazzles his vision : all liis joys, all his sorrows proceed from her ; when he is hap])y, the gods may envy him; when she mocks his tears and sighs, he hopes that death will be more merciful than she is. Sentiments like these are expressed through a great many sonnets of Costanzo. For delicacy of phrase, ami smoothness of verse, he is admirable. No Greek poet ever constructed an epigram with more cor- rectnesss to the principles of art, than Cos- tanzo has shown m forming his sonnets. Every one of them is a rich and imaginative expression of a single feeling or idea. I shall not extract any of his amatory poems, but one of his sonnets on Virgil will give a sufficient idea of his style and abilities. Cigni felici ! chc le rive e I'acque Del fortunate Mincio in guardia avete, Dell, s'egli e ver, per Dio, mi rispondctc, Tra' vostri nidi il gran Virgilio nacque ? Dimmi, bclla Sircna, ovc a lei piacque Trapassar Tore sue tranquille e liete ; (Cosi sian I'ossa tue sempre quicte :) E ver che'n grcmbo a te, morendo, giacque ? Qual niaggior grazia aver dalla Fottuna Potea? qual fin confbrme al nascertanto? Qual sepolcro piil simile alia cuna ? Ch'essendo nato tra '1 soave canto Di bianchi cigni, al fin in veste bruna Esser dalle Sirene in morte piantu. 170 ALESSANDRO d'aLESSANDRO. Costanzo wooed also the ins])irations of the •graver liistorie muse. lie is often called tlie fatlierof Neapolitan history. The opinion of the Itahans is, that the fidncss and clearness of the narrative, the nobleness and grandeur of the style, and the deep wisdom of his sentiments, place his work almost on a level with those of Machia- velli and (jiiicciardini (()'J). The rooms of the academy were the daily resort of the idle and and the studious of Naples. My Neapolitan friends pointed out to my atten- tion their fellow-citizen ALESSANDRO D'ALESSANDRO. Jn his youth he had studied, and then prac- tised the law, till, as he said, the ignorance and villainy of the judges made him disgusted with the profession ; or, as his friends with at least e(pial truth affirmed, till his love of Belles Lettres would admit of no rival. Hisdiscjust of the law did not })revent him, however, from accepting the oflice of Prothonotary of Naples, and his pas- sion for literature was not incompatible with the enjoyment of a rich abbey in commendam. He fixed his residence at Rome, during much of Leo's ])ontificate; his })hi!os()phicaland historical SANNAZARO. 17 1 acquirements were liighly applauded, and liis work, called Dies Geniales, written in imitation of the Attic Nights of Aulus Gellius, is a maga- zine of fact and fable, just opinions and vague conjectures on the laws, religion, manners, and mihtary politics of Greece and Rome. He must be a very penetrating and judicious reader in- deed, wlio can extract any thing valuable from the disordered mass. The work, however, enjoys much of the favor of the Italians, and for that reason I do not regret that I have seen the author. His belief in supernatural appearances is the most remarkable feature of his character, and he has had the folly to record his opinions in four dissertations upon dreams, spectres, and houses infested by spirits (7^)). But the man who attracted most of my atten- tion was GIACOMO SANNAZARO. He dressed like a young cavalier, but his white hair and wrinkled forehead mocked his efforts at a youthful appearance. He endea- voured to unite the gracefulness of ))leasure with the dignity of wisdom : but althougli lie was an idolator of the ancients, he could not mix 172 SAN VAZ Alio. Cato witli Pctroniiis. Seventy winters had not frozen his passions, and he fVe([uently left liis vilhi of Mergilhna, near the town of Somma, on Vesuvins, not so nuich to enjoy literary society, as licentions pleasures. But he was generally ele- gant in his amours. His mistresses were famous both for their literature and their beauty. " Delle belle eruditissima, delle erudite beUissima," was his favorite for the timebeing. He was a Nea- politan by birth, and was patronized on account of his abilities and learning, by the princes of the house of Arragon. Pope Leo the Tenth, also, was his warm and steady friend, and Sannazaro return- ed this kindness by writing caustic epigrams on the frailties and infirmities of his patron. He was celebrated as a Latin and Italian poet. His elegies breathe the tenderness, and are expressed in the elegance of Tibullus : nor must I deny him , praise for his piscatory eclogues. He was one J of those who, in their love of classical literature, lost sight of decorum as well as taste. No Latin poem is so well known as his which bears the title, De partu Virginis. Before the mys- tery of the Incarnation, a truly Christian mind will bend in silent reverence. But metaphysical divines have, in all ages, divided the church by enquiries into subjects over which Heaven has thrown a veil. Poets now have chosen the same SANNAZARO. ] 7^ theme. They do not write indeed witli the po- lemical designs of their clerical predecessors, and, consequently, the workl is not divided into fac- tions by their verses. Their descriptions are sadly offensive to delicacy and good taste, and the mind does not improve in piety when its virtue is violated. Christianity and Mythology are regarded by Sannazaro as equally emanating from the same source of truth. Dryads and Nereids figure in his pages ; the Virgin is the hope of the gods, and recites Sybilline verses. It is a poor compensation for these absurdities to say that the Latinity of the poem is correct and elegant. So great, however, is the fashion for classical literature, that Pope Clement VII., the father of the Western church, has patronized the poem of Sannazaro ; and to rival the impropriety of the author, his Holiness gravely assures him, that fame is the image of the immortality offered to man by the Christian religion. On Sannazaro's poems in his vernacular idiom much praise may be bestowed. He who delights in poetical thoughts expressed in harmonious numbers, will pass many an hour amidst his epi- grams and elegies. Sannazaro*s Arcadia is much admired by the lovers of pastoral poetry. It is in truth one of the most popular poems in Italian literature. Its elegant diction compensates, I 174 VITTOUIA COLONNA. suppose, for its tedioiisness. (71) Of'someofhis smaller potMus in his vernacular iiliom, I can speak with uuniingleil pleasure. Tiic canzone ** fSperai gran tempo,** wherein he breathes his aspirations after fame, I have often lieard eulo- gized by the best Italian scholars. Of his sonnets I have selected one, though many ])ress upon me on account of their elegance of idea and choice- ness of expression : Ripensando al soavc onesto sguardo, Al rider vago, al parlar dolce uniile, Al divin portamento, a quel gentile Spirto chc I ciel mi fe veder si tardo ; Sento la piaga, end' io gioisco ed ardo, Versar t'oco si dolce e si sottilc, Che ogni altra vita, ogni placer m' c vile, ^ E sol d'uscirdi pena oggi mi guardo. Ma quel chc '1 mio dcsir piii dcstaognora, E la man bclla c bianca che da presso II marnio avvanza, e i gigli discolora. Man ! che sola obbliar mi fai mi stesso, Chc fosti a prcghi miei si arnica allora, Perch6 non ti poss' io veder piu spesso ? VITTOUIA COLONNA. At Naples, as at every city in Italy, there are many women whose minds are not lost amidst VITTORIA COhONNA. 175 the frivolities of dissipation, or sunk into the indolence which a voluptuous climate produces. On no one, however, does the mind rest with so much interest as on Vittoria Colonna, daugliter of Fabrizio Colonna, grand Constable of the king- dom of Naples, and of Anna di Montifeltro, daughter of Federigo, Duke of Urbino. Vit- toria was born in the year 1 190. Her family was equal in rank, and united in friendship to that of the Marquis of Pescara, and it was hoped that the honors of both houses would be sup- ported by a marriage between her and Ferdi- nando d'Avalos, son of the Marquis. The gay colourings which adorn the characters of romance might be used here, for Ferdinando was in truth a model of chivalry, and Vittoria was a Corinna in literature. They were married in the year 1508. The wars in the north of Italy soon drew Ferdinando from the delights of literature and love. He was a distinguished cavalier in the contests between Francis I. and the Emperor Charles V. In the dreadful battle of Pa via, he received a mortal wound. Some princes of Italy wished to shake the principles of Ferdinando by the splendid offer of the crown of Naples. But Vittoria supported his mind, whether pain or am- bition assailed its firmness. " Remember," as she wrote to him, '' remember tluit \irtLie which IJ6 VITT()I{I\ COLON'NA. mist's you above lortuiic iiiul kings. It is not tlie greatness of estates or tlie soinid of titles which constitute glory ; l)iit iionor is acquired b}' virtue alone, and lionor is the only quality which a man should be anxious to transmit to posterity." The contest between principle and ambition did not endure long, for Ferdinando died of" his wounds in the year 1520, a few months after the battle of Pavia. The charms of Vittoria's mind, as much as those of her person, made many of the first men in Italy contend for her regard. But nothing could shake her resolutions of fidelity to the memory of Ferdinando. Her thoughts were for some years divided between literature and religion, but indulgence of serious impressions gradually led to a melancholy cast of mind, and in 1541, six years before her death, Vittoria retired to a religious sisterhood. She was the correspondent and associate of all the celebrated men of her time. The purity and elevation of her mind formed the theme of every pen. Her poems are complete pictures of her life. They breathe the most perfect affection to her hus- band, the most submissive devotion to her God. There is great truth of feeling and fer\ or of fancy in her poems ; her descriptions are vi\ id, and her illustrations just. Doubtless she studied Petrarca, for her mind naturallv asso- i.) VITTORIA COLONNA. 177 ciated itself with all that was graceful and tender. I would say, however, that the elegance of her poetical phraseology, and the melodious flow of her verse, proceeded from her own fine genius, an emanation of ethereal purity and truth, rather than fiom any borrowed source. Similarity docs not always argue imitation : and Vittoria would have written elegant poems, whether Petrarca had preceded her or not. For seven years afler his death, her husband was the only subject of her muse ; and, as Ariosto said, if Alexander had lived in the time of Vittoria, he would have wished her to sing his exploits, and would not have envied Achilles, whose deeds were re- sounded by Homer. The Canzone " Spirto gentil ! che sei nel terzo giro,'* is too long lor insertion here ; but 1 cannot resist the pleasure of transcribing the sonnet whicli she addressed to Bembo, in gentle censure of his not having celebrated by his pen the death of her husband. Ahi, quai^to fu al mio Sol contrario il Fato, Che con Talta virtu de i raggi suoi Pria non v'accese, che mill' anni e poi Vol sareste piii chiara, ei piii lodato. II nome suo col vostro stile ornato, Chefascoriio agli antichi, invidia a noi, A mal grado del tempo avreste voi Dal secondo morir sempre guardato. VOL. I. N 178 VERONICA GAMBARA. Potoss' i' alniCM mandar nol vostro petto l/ardor cli' iosonto, o voi iicl mio ringogno Per far la lima a (juil gran mcrto cguale ! C'lib cosi temo il ciel non prcnda a sdcgno Voi, pcrcliu avctc prcso altro soggetto, Mc, ch'ardisco parlar d'un lumc talc. VERONICA GAMBAUA. From similarity of genius and fortune, I shall mention in tliis place Veronica Gam])ara. She was of a noble family of Brescia, and in the year l.)09, she married Ciiberti X. Lord of Corregio. Nine years afterwards her husband died, and Veronica consecrated herself to perpetual widow- hood. There was an ostentation in her grief which did not accord with the virtuous character of her mind. Not only her dress, her coach, licr horses, all were black, but her apartment was hung with mourning. Over its doors she wrote the declaration of Dido, and did not dread that the example of the Tyrian queen would be more j)uwerful than her protessions. IIIl' nicos, primus qui nic sibi junxit, amorcs Abstulit : illc liabeat sccum servctquc scpulchro. The education of her children, the cultivation of benevolence, anil the ])ursuits of literature VERONICA GAMBARA. 17'J engaged her wholly. In the nol)le company assembled at Bologna for the coronation of the Emperor Charles V. she was eminent for the charms of her conversation, and the newly crowned monarch did not disdain to pay her fre- quent visits at Corregio. Though skilled in theo- logy, philosophy, and the learned languages, the natural character of her sex gave the tone to her literary disposition, and she wrote only poetry. She was one of the numerous admirers of Pe- trarca, whose image Bembo had lately set up for general adoration. Bembo, indeed, directed her studies, and revised her works. During his life her husband was the subject of her verse, as well as of her affections. Her poems have much of the elegance, but none of the brilliancy of Pe- trarca. Veronica's thoughts are as noble and pure as those of her friend Vittoria Colonna, and like her she is often lost in questions of mystical theology. (72) As 1 have given a specimen of the poetry of Vittoria Colonna, 1 must transcribe one of the sonnets of Veronica Gambara. Mentre da' vaghi e giovenil pensieri Fui nudrita, or temendo, ora spcrando, Piangendo or trista, cd or licta cantando, Dadesir conibattuta or falsi or vcri. N 2 ISO r.\iNri\(,. Con acceiiti siogai pietosi c I'eri I concetti del cor, die spesso amando, II suo male assai piii die '1 ben cercando, Consumava dogliosa i giorni interi. Ordied'altre pensieri cd'altre voglic Pasco la mente, alio gia care rime Ho posto, cd alto stil, silenzio etcnio ; E s'allor vancggiando a quelle prime Sciocchezze intesi, ora il pansier mi toglie, La colpa palesando, il duolo interno. PAINTING. Of the state of painting at Naples I have not much to rehite. In no period of history has the art been entirely extinct in that city ; for, as I have already said respecting the history of letters in Naples, the civilization which Greece intro- duced into southern Italy has never been effaced. Grecian vases and medals were always before the eyes of Neapolitan artists. I could not discover, however, in the palaces or churches any paint- ings anterior to the time of Cimabue. The earliest patrons of art were the two Charles's, sovereigns of Naples, of the house of Anjou. The eldest of these princes saw the works of Cimabue at Florence, and was, therefore, stimu- lated to encourage Toinmaso de Stefani, a Nea- PAINTING. 181 ]}oJitan painter. Still, however, imitation ot" foreign masters, and not original native genius, marked the artists of Naples. Giotto, the cele- brated Florentine, was invited by King Robert to Naj)les, and he left in the city many memorials of his genius. Antonio Solario, or Zingaro, was an artist of great merit ; he lived in the first half of the fifteenth century. The history, or perhaps the romance of his life, tells us that he directed his genius to painting, in order to ob- tain the hand of his mistress, whose father, Colantonio del Fiore, an artist, declared that he would bestow her only upon a painter. In ten years study in most of the Italian cities, Zingaro laid the foundations of his happiness and fame. His love w^as blessed, and he became an artist of celebrity. His most famous works are in the convent of St. Severino ; they represent the life of San Benedetto ; they are in fresco, and con- tain an incredible variety of figures and things. He left also many portraits ; Madonnas too of some beauty ; and several historical pictures in the churches of Naples. His genius was so much superior to that of his contemporaries that he became the founder of an extensive school. His composition is rich and ingenious, his coun- tenances are full of expression, and his perspec- tive is extremely good, considering tlie times he N 3 18^2 VILA. li\c'cl in. I wish 1 was not obliged to say that liis attitudes are not always gracei'ul, and that his colouring is harsh. The style of KatiicUo is now the })rLvailing taste of the Neapolitans, for an Assumption in the Cathedral by Perugino, the precursor of Ka- liiello, was, I observed, the favorite picture of the old school. Rafaello's pu})ils and imitators arc highly patronized by the Neaj)olitans, a peo])le who, from uncommon fervor of" imagin- ation and elegance of idea, are extremely attached to art. The principles of Michelan- giolo have added grandeur to the style of paint- ing. Most of the barbarisms of the public buildings at Naples have lately given })lace to the magnificence of the Roman school, and when the admirers of Michelangiolo introduced his architectural manner, the applause which it excited created a corresjionding elevation of idea in the other branches of art. (7.'3) VIDA. I WAS obliged to return to Rome by land, ibr the weather forbad me from following the ex- amj)le of most travellers of returning by sea. But I varieil lioni the usual route by going to PERUGIMO. ISJ Frascati, in order to visit a man ol" genius. I sj)eak of Marcus Hieronynius Vida. 1 saw him in the monastery of San Silvestro, of which he is the prior. He received me witli the hos- pitahty which became his rehgious cliaracter, and when I mentioned to him my former situ- ation at Rome, tlie natural gentleness of liis manners became warmed into friendly affection. He joined me in commending tlie hberahty of Leo, and in mourning tiie loss which letters had sustained by his death. Leo had been his patron as well as mine. Vida*s Latin poem on the game of chess, had attracted the notice of the pope, who had established liim in the prioiy to pass some years in the duties of his sacreil profession, and in the composition of a Latin poem on the life of Christ. I stayed some days at Frascati, enjoying the holy calm which the virtues of Vida breathed around, and then went to Rome, (yi) PEIIUGINO. From Rome I took the road to Florence. 1 iiad frequently, in my collegiate life, visited the cascade at Terni, and I therefore made no important rest, until 1 arrived at Perugia. The N !< IM. riiKi oiNo. celebrated painter, Pietro Periigino, liad just (lied. He was one of the best and latest of the olil school, and united all tiie excellencies of Masaccio, (Jhirlandaio, ami others. I saw several ol' his paintings in the churches and houses of Perugia. The picture generally con- sidered as his master-piece, is raised over the altar in the church of St. Peter. The subject is the ascension of Christ. The outline of IVrugino is as crude and dry as that of most of his predecessors. If he had confined iiim- self to the ])ainting of St. Jerome, and other })rofessors of mortification, his style would not have appeared faulty ; but he comj)ensates for his errors by the grace of his heads, particularly of young men and women, the elegance of attitudes and the delicacy of colours. His land- scapes, too, had an amenity unknown to the other masters of the old school. His mind was not very inventive, for he was contented with tlie same dis})osition of figures, whether the subject were the ascension of Christ or of the A'irgin. He was Ibnd of boasting his ex- emj)tion from the odious crime of plagiarism ; no man borrowed, however, more from himself. He closed his days at Perugia, for he (juitted Florence, being iinahli' to endure the rising reputation of Mic In huigiolo. Praise was mea- SIENA. 185 sured out unwillingly to Pietro, ibr he was hated at Perugia on account of the atheistical profligacy of his opinions, and the meanness and avarice of his conduct ; and though he died at the protracted age of 7^^> y^t it was not thought that the lamp of life had gradually wasted, but that his end had been hastened by grief for a pecuniary loss. He has the merit of having forced his way through great obstacles to some eminence in his profession, but per- haps posterity will chiefly notice him as one of the teachers of llafaello. (J5) SIENA. When I had viewed the pictures of Pietro Perugino, I recommenced my journey. An idle jealousy of strangers kept the gates of Cortona closed against me. It was some pleasure, how- ever, to view even the walls of the ancient capital of Etruria. They are more than two thousand five hundred years old. There are some modern fortifications ; but solidity and strength appear on the side of antiquity. 1 then advanced to Arezzo, and found, when I conversed with the people of the Casentine and Arno, that their only article of sale consists, ISO SIENA. as ill Dante*s time, of liogs, and that they do not deserve to liave liis reproach removed from them, that they are as surly as their animals of traffic. Tiiere is nothing for a stranger to be- hold in Arezzo, except a cottage, wherein 1 was told Petrarca was born. I then went to Siena, through roads seldom passed by any people ex- cept the peasants, and often regretted tliat I did not, like most travellers, make Siena an ex- cursion from Florence. Every one enters Siena thinking of the epithet, vain, which Dante applies to it : ill giamniai Gcntc si vana, conic la sanasc ? Ccrto non la Francesca si d'assai. Df.li, Inkkuno. Canto '2*). The word palazzo being given to very mean habitations, made me justify the i)oet. The Sicnese boast of their descent from Rome, and accordingly the she wolf, in stone, is to be met with in every corner of the city. Patricians as well as plebeians are merchants, for the former class wasted their estates, and were obliged to resort to trade. Siena, indeed, is the rival of Florence, in res})ect of commerce. There is an emulation of splendour too, as well as of trade, be- tween the Florentine and the Sienese merchants. PAINTING. 187 and tiic fine arts have, therefore, found patrons at Siena. The Sienese are not so much celebrated for architecture as for painting. The cathedral is gothic and not of tiie purest sort, for it con- tains many marks of the Lombard style, such as tlie belfry not being incorporated with the pile, circular arches resting on doui)le pillars, doors with double architraves, columns based upon lions tearing lambs, marble walls polished on both sides in alternate course of black and white, the front of the cathedral overcharged with ornaments on the outside, and plain with- in, and various other violations of propriety. (JC)) The pavement represents many stories of Scrip- ture, and is a curious monument of ancient art. The effect of Mosaic is j)roduced by the insertion of grey marble into white, and shaded by black mastic. PAINTING AT SIENA. Like most foreigners, I was delighted with the gay style of })ainting at Siena, a style so exactly correspondent with the fervid and viva- cious nature of the people. The choice of colouring and the air of the faces have a re- ference to joyfulness. No where has the art 1S5^ rAINlJN(.. a more splciuliil appearance tlian at Siena, for the best ])ictiires of the Sienese masters are openly exhibited in the chnrches ; whereas at Rome and Florence, tlie altar pieces are not always of the first rate merit. No school of painting has more invention than that of Siena, for no people are more quick and animated : tasteful in description, elegant in ornament, and rich in allegory, every picture is a poem. There is little that is interesting in the early history of Sienese painting. It is said that there were painters at Siena in the twelfth century, and perhaps in antecedent times, for in the thickest night of Gothic barbarism, some rays of ancient art shot across the gloom. Siena con- tends for the honor of being the oldest school of painting. A picture of Guido, a Sienese artist, in the church of St. Dominico, in Siena, is dated in the year 1'2'21. The Florentine Cim- abuc, generally called the father of modern j)ainters, was not born till 1'2K). Simon Monmii, of Siena, was a celebrated painter at the close of the thirteenth and in the first half of the four- teenth century : his elegant works wear the ap- pearance of subsequent times. His name is interesting to the lovers of poetry, for he painted Petrarca and Laura, and was celebrated by the Italian amatory songster in two sonnets. A i»AINTl\(i. l.S