utside the sphere of poetry also, the Italians were the first of all
European nations who displayed any remarkable power and inclination
accurately to describe man as shown in history, according to his inward
and outward characteristics.
It is true that in the Middle Ages considerable attempts were made in
the same direction; and the legends of the Church, as a kind of
standing biographical task, must, to some extent, have kept alive the
interest and the gift for such descriptions. In the annals of the
monasteries and cathedrals, many of the churchmen, such as Meinwerk of
Paderborn, Godehard of Hildesheim, and others, are brought vividly
before our eyes; and descriptions exist of several of the German
emperors, modelled after old authors--particularly Suetonius--which
contain admirable features. Indeed these and other profane 'vitae' came
in time to form a continuous counterpart to the sacred legends. Yet
neither Einhard nor Wippo nor Radevicus can be named by the side of
Joinville's picture of St. Louis, which certainly stands almost alone
as the first complete spiritual portrait of a modern European nature.
Characters like St. Louis are rare at all times, and his was favored by
the rare good fortune that a sincere and naive observer caught the
spirit of all the events and actions of his life, and represented it
admirably. From what scanty sources are we left to guess at the inward
nature of Frederick II or of Philip the Fair. Much of what, till the
close of the Middle Ages, passed for biography, is properly speaking
nothing but contemporary narrative, written without any sense of what
is individual in the subject of the memoir.
Among the Italians, on the contrary, the search for the characteristic
features of remarkable men was a prevailing tendency; and this it is
which separates them from the other western peoples, among whom the
same thing happens but seldom, and in exceptional cases. This keen eye
for individuality belongs only to those who have emerged from the
halfconscious life of the race and become themselves individuals.
Under the influence of the prevailing conception of fame an art of
comparative biography arose which no longer found it necessary, like
Anastasius, Agnellus, and their successors, or like the biographers of
the Venetian doges, to adhere to a dynastic or ecclesiastical
succession. It felt itself free to describe a man if and because he was
remarkable. It took as models .Suetonius, Nepos (the 'viri illustres'),
and Plutarch,-so far as he was known and translated; for sketches of
literary history, the lives of the grammarians, rhetoricians, and
poets, known to us as the 'Appendices' to Suetonius, seem to have
served as patterns, as well as the widely-read life of Virgil by
Donatus.
It has already been mentioned that biographical collections --lives of
famous men and famous women--began to appear in the fourteenth century.
Where they do not describe contemporaries, they are naturally dependent
on earlier narratives. The first great original effort is the life of
Dante by Boccaccio. Lightly and rhetorically written, and full, as it
is, of arbitrary fancies, this work nevertheless gives us a lively
sense of the extraordinary features in Dante's nature. Then follow, at
the end of the fourteenth century, the 'vite' of illustrious
Florentines, by Filippo Villani. They are men of every calling: poets,
jurists, physicians, scholars, artists, statesmen, and soldiers, some
of them then still living. Florence is here treated like a gifted
family, in which all the members are noticed in whom the spirit of the
house expresses itself vigorously. The descriptions are brief, but show
a remarkable eye for what is characteristic, and are noteworthy for
including the inward and outward physiognomy in the same sketch. From
that time forward, the Tuscans never ceased to consider the description
of man as lying within their special competence, and to them we owe the
most valuable portraits of the Italians of the fifteenth and sixteenth
centuries. Giovanni Cavalcanti, in the appendices to his Florentine
history, written before the year 1450, collects instances of civil
virtue and abnegation, of political discernment and of military valor,
all shown by Florentines. Pius II gives in his 'Commentaries' valuable
portraits of famous contemporaries; and not long ago a separate work of
his earlier years, which seems preparatory to these portraits, but
which has colors and features that are very singular, was reprinted. To
Jacopo of Volterra we owe piquant sketches of members of the Curia in
the time of Sixtus IV. Vespasiano Fiorentino has often been referred to
already, and as a historical authority a high place must be assigned to
him; but his gift as a painter of character is not to be compared with
that of Machiavelli, Niccolo Valori, Guicciardini, Varchi, Francesco
Vettori, and others, by whom European historical literature has
probably been as much influenced in this direction as by the ancients.
It must not be forgotten that some of these authors soon found their
way into northern countries by means of Latin translations. And without
Giorgio Vasari of Arezzo and his all-important work, we should perhaps
to this day have no history of Northern art, or of the art of modern
Europe, at all.
Among the biographers of North Italy in the fifteenth century,
Bartolommeo Fazio of Spezia holds a high rank. Platina, born in the
territory of Cremona, gives us, in his 'Life of Paul II,' examples of
biographical caricatures. The description of the last Visconti, written
by Piercandido Decembrio--an enlarged imitation of Suetonius--is of
special importance. Sismondi regrets that so much trouble has been
spent on so unworthy an object, but the author would hardly have been
equal to deal with a greater man, while he was thoroughly competent to
describe the mixed nature of Filippo Maria, and in and through it to
represent with accuracy the conditions, the forms, and the consequences
of this particular kind of despotism. The picture of the fifteenth
century would be incomplete without this unique biography, which is
characteristic down to its minutest details. Milan afterwards
possessed, in the historian Corio, an excellent portrait-painter; and
after him came Paolo Giovio of Como, whose larger biographies and
shorter 'Elogia' have achieved a world-wide reputation, and become
models for subsequent writers in all countries. It is easy to prove by
a hundred passages how superficial and even dishonest he was; nor from
a man like him can any high and serious purpose be expected. But the
breath of the age moves in his pages, and his Leo, his Alfonso, his
Pompeo Colonna, live and act before us with such perfect truth and
reality, that we seem admitted to the deepest recesses of their nature.
Among Neapolitan writers, Tristano Caracciolo, so far as we are able to
judge, holds indisputably the first place in this respect, although his
purpose was not strictly biographical. In the figures which he brings
before us, guilt and destiny are wondrously mingled. He is a kind of
unconscious tragedian. That genuine tragedy which then found no place
on the stage, 'swept by' in the palace, the street, and the public
square. The 'Words and Deeds of Alfonso the Great,' written by Antonio
Panormita during the lifetime of the king, are remarkable as one of the
first of such collections of anecdotes and of wise and witty sayings.
The rest of Europe followed the example of Italy in this respect but
slowly, although great political and religious movements had broken so
many bonds, and had awakened so many thousands to new spiritual life.
Italians, whether scholars or diplomatists, still remained, on the
whole, the best source of information for the characters of the leading
men all over Europe. It is well known how speedily and unanimously in
recent times the reports of the Venetian embassies in the sixteenth and
seventeenth centuries have been recognized as authorities of the first
order for personal description. Even autobiography takes here and there
in Italy a bold and vigorous flight, and puts before us, together with
the most varied incidents of external life, striking revelations of the
inner man. Among other nations, even in Germany at the time of the
Reformation, it deals only with outward experiences, and leaves us to
guess at the spirit within from the style of the narrative. It seems as
though Dante's 'Vita Nuova,' with the inexorable truthfulness which
runs through it, had shown his people the way.
The beginnings of autobiography are to be traced in the family
histories of the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, which are said to
be not uncommon as manuscripts in the Florentine libraries--unaffected
narratives written for the sake of the individual or of his family,
like that of Buonaccorso Pitti.
A profound self-analysis is not to be looked for in the 'Commentaries'
of Pius II. What we here learn of him as a man seems at first sight to
be chiefly confined to the account which he gives of the various steps
in his career. But further reflection will lead us to a different
conclusion with regard to this remarkable book. There are men who are
by nature mirrors of what surrounds them. It would be irrelevant to ask
incessantly after their convictions, their spiritual struggles, their
inmost victories and achievements. Aeneas Sylvius lived wholly in the
interest which lay near, without troubling himself about the problems
and contradictions of life. His Catholic orthodoxy gave him all the
help of this kind which he needed. And at all events, after taking part
in every intellectual movement which interested his age, and notably
furthering some of them, he still at the close of his earthly course
retained character enough to preach a crusade against the Turks, and to
die of grief when it came to nothing.
Nor is the autobiography of Benvenuto Cellini, any more than that of
Pius II, founded on introspection. And yet it describes the whole
man--not always willingly--with marvelous truth and completeness. It is no
small matter that Benvenuto, whose most important works have perished
half finished, and who, as an artist, is perfect only in his little
decorative speciality, but in other respects, if judged by the works of
him which remain, is surpassed by so many of his greater
contemporaries--that Benvenuto as a man will interest mankind to the
end of time. It does not spoil the impression when the reader often
detects him bragging or lying; the stamp of a mighty, energetic, and
thoroughly developed nature remains. By his side our modern
autobiographers, though their tendency and moral character may stand
much higher, appear incomplete beings. He is a man who can do all and
dares do all, and who carries his measure in himself. Whether we like
him or not, he lives, such as he was, as a significant type of the
modern spirit.
Another man deserves a brief mention in connection with this subject--a
man who, like Benvenuto, was not a model of veracity: Girolamo Cardano
of Milan (b. 1500). His little book, 'De propria vita,' will outlive
and eclipse his fame in philosophy and natural science, just as
Benvenuto's Life, though its value is of another kind, has thrown his
works into the shade. Cardano is a physician who feels his own pulse,
and describes his own physical, moral, and intellectual nature,
together with all the conditions under which it had developed, and
this, to the best of his ability, honestly and sincerely. The work
which he avowedly took as his model--the 'Confessions' of Marcus
Aurelius--he was able, hampered as he was by no stoical maxims, to
surpass in this particular. He desires to spare neither himself nor
others, and begins the narrative of his career with the statement that
his mother tried, and failed, to procure abortion. It is worth remark
that he attributes to the stars which presided over his birth only the
events of his life and his intellectual gifts, but not his moral
qualities; he confesses (cap. 10) that the astrological prediction that
he would not live to the age of forty or fifty years did him much harm
in his youth. But there is no need to quote from so well-known md
accessible a book; whoever opens it will not lay it down il] the last
page. Cardano admits that he cheated at play, that e was vindictive,
incapable of all compunction, purposely cruel in his speech. He
confesses it without impudence and without feigned contrition, without
even wishing to make himself an object of interest, but with the same
simple and sincere love of fact which guided him in his scientific
researches. And, what is to us the most repulsive of all, the old man,
after the most shocking experiences and with his confidence in his
fellowmen gone, finds himself after all tolerably happy and
comfortable. He has still left him a grandson, immense learning, the
fame of his works, money, rank and credit, powerful friends, the
knowledge of many secrets, and, best of all, belief in God. After this,
he counts the teeth in his head, and finds that he was fifteen.
Yet when Cardano wrote, Inquisitors and Spaniards were already busy in
Italy, either hindering the production of such natures, or, where they
existed, by some means or other putting them out of the way. There lies
a gulf between this book and the memoirs of Alfieri.
Yet it would be unjust to close this list of autobiographers without
listening to a word from one man who was both worthy and happy. This is
the well-known philosopher of practical life, Luigi Cornaro, whose
dwelling at Padua, classical as an architectural work, was at the same
time the home of all the muses. In his famous treatise 'On the Sober
Life,' he describes the strict regimen by which he succeeded, after a
sickly youth, in reaching an advanced and healthy age, then of
eighty-three years. He goes on to answer those who despise life after the age
of sixty-five as a living death, showing them that his own life had
nothing deadly about it. 'Let them come and see, and wonder at my good
health, how I mount on horseback without help, how I run upstairs and
up hills, how cheerful, amusing, and contented I am, how free from care
and disagreeable thoughts. Peace and joy never quit me.... My friends
are wise, learned, and distinguished people of good position, and when
they are not with me I read and write, and try thereby, as by all other
means. to be useful to others. Each of these things I do at the proper
time, and at my ease, in my dwelling, which is beautiful and lies in
the best part of Padua, and is arranged both for summer and winter with
all the resources of architecture, and provided with a garden by the
running water. In the spring and autumn, I go for awhile to my hill in
the most beautiful part of the Euganean mountains, where I have
fountains and gardens, and a comfortable dwelling; and there I amuse
myself with some easy and pleasant chase, which is suitable to my
years. At other times I go to my villa on the plain; there all the
paths lead to an open space, in the middle of which stands a pretty
church; an arm of the Brenta flows through the plantations-- fruitful,
well-cultivated fields, now fully peopled, which the marshes and the
foul air once made fitter for snakes than for men. It was I who drained
the country; then the air became good, and people settled there and
multiplied, and the land became cultivated as it now is, so that T can
truly say: "On this spot I gave to God an altar and a temple, and souls
to worship Him." This is my consolation and my happiness whenever I
come here. In the spring and autumn, I also visit the neighbouring
towns, to see and converse with my friends, through whom I make the
acquaintance of other distinguished men, architects, painters,
sculptors, musicians, and cultivators of the soil. I see what new
things they have done, I look again at what I know already, and learn
much that is of use to me. I see palaces, gardens, antiquities, public
grounds, churches, and fortifications. But what most of all delights me
when I travel, is the beauty of the country and the places, lying now
on the plain, now on the slopes of the hills, or on the banks of rivers
and streams, surrounded by gardens and villas. And these enjoyments are
not diminished through weakness of the eyes or the ears; all my senses
(thank God!) are in the best condition, including the sense of taste;
for I enjoy more the simple food which I now take in moderation, than
all the delicacies which I ate in my years of disorder.' After
mentioning the works he had undertaken on behalf of the republic for
draining the marshes, and the projects which he had constantly
advocated for preserving the lagoons, he thus concludes:
'These are the true recreations of an old age which God has permitted
to be healthy, and which is free from those mental and bodily
sufferings to which so many young people and so many sickly older
people succumb. And if it be allowable to add the little to the great,
to add jest to earnest, it may be mentioned as a result of my moderate
life, that in my eightythird year I have written a most amusing comedy,
full of blameless wit. Such works are generally the business of youth,
as tragedy is the business of old age. If it is reckoned to the credit
of the famous Greek that he wrote a tragedy in his seventythird year,
must I not, with my ten years more, be more cheerful and healthy than
he ever was? And that no consolation may be wanting in the overflowing
cup of my old age, I see before my eyes a sort of bodily immortality in
the persons of my descendants. When I come home I see before me, not
one or two, but eleven grandchildren, between the ages of two and
eighteen, all from the same father and mother, all healthy, and, so far
as can already be judged, all gifted with the talent and disposition
for learning and a good life. One of the younger I have as my playmate
(buffoncello), since children from the third to the fifth year are born
to tricks; the elder ones I treat as my companions, and, as they have
admirable voices, I take delight in hearing them sing and play on
different instruments. And I sing myself, and find my voice better,
clearer, and louder than ever. These are the pleasures of my last
years. My life, therefore, is alive, and not dead; nor would I exchange
my age for the youth of such as live in the service of their passions.'
In the 'Exhortation' which Cornaro added at a much later time, in his
ninety-fifth year, he reckons it among the elements of his happiness
that his 'Treatise' had made many converts. He died at Padua in 1565,
at the age of over a hundred years.
This national gift did not, however, confine itself to the criticism
and description of individuals, but felt itself competent to deal with
the qualities and characteristics of whole peoples. Throughout the
Middle Ages the cities, families, and nations of all Europe were in the
habit of making insulting and derisive attacks on one another, which,
with much caricature, contained commonly a kernel of truth. But from
the first the Italians surpassed all others in their quick apprehension
of the mental differences among cities and populations. Their local
patriotism, stronger probably than in any other medieval people, soon
found expression in literature, and allied itself with the current
conception of 'Fame.' Topography became the counterpart of biography;
while all the more important cities began to celebrate their own
praises in prose and verse, writers appeared who made the chief towns
and districts the subject partly of a serious comparative description,
partly of satire, and sometimes of notices in which jest and earnest
are not easy to be distinguished. Next to some famous passages in the
'Divine Comedy,' we have here the 'Dittamondo' of Uberti (about 1360).
As a rule, only single remarkable facts and characteristics are here
mentioned: the Feast of the Crows at Sant' Apollinare in Ravenna, the
springs at Treviso, the great cellar near Vicenza, the high duties at
Mantua, the forest of towers at Lucca. Yet mixed up with all this, we
find laudatory and satirical criticisms of every kind. Arezzo figures
with the crafty disposition of its citizens, Genoa with the
artificially blackened eyes and teeth (?) of its women, Bologna with
its prodigality, Bergamo with its coarse dialect and hard-headed
people. In the fifteenth century the fashion was to belaud one's own
city even at the expense of others. Michele Savonarola allows that, in
comparison with his native Padua, only Rome and Venice are more
splendid, and Florence perhaps more joyous--by which our knowledge is
naturally not much extended. At the end of the century, Jovianus
Pontanus, in his 'Antonius,' writes an imaginary journey through Italy,
simply as a vehicle for malicious observations. But in the sixteenth
century we meet with a series of exact and profound studies of national
characteristics, such as no other people of that time could rival.
Machiavelli sets forth in some of his valuable essays the character and
the political condition of the Germans and French in such a way that
the born northerner, familiar with the history of his own country, is
grateful to the Florentine thinker for his flashes of insight. The
Florentines begin to take pleasure in describing themselves; and
basking in the well-earned sunshine of their intellectual glory, their
pride seems to attain its height when they derive the artistic
pre-eminence of Tuscany among Italians, not from any special gifts of
nature, but from hard, patient work. The homage of famous men from
other parts of Italy, of which the sixteenth Capitolo of Ariosto is a
splendid example, they accepted as a merited tribute to their
excellence.
Of an admirable description of the Italians, with their various
pursuits and characteristics, though in a few words and with special
stress laid on the Lucchese, to whom the work was dedicated, we can
give only the title: Forcianae Questiones, by Ortensio Landi, Naples,
1536. Leandro Alberti is not so fruitful as might be expected in his
description of the character of the different cities. A 'Commentario'
(by Ortensio Landi, Venice, 1553) contains among many absurdities some
valuable information on the unfortunate conditions prevailing about the
middle of the century.
To what extent this comparative study of national and local
characteristics may, by means of Italian humanism, have influenced the
rest of Europe, we cannot say with precision. To Italy, at all events,
belongs the priority in this respect, as in the description of the
world in general.