unobtrusive inscription or the figure harmonising with the design of the church, of ages which we are accustomed to call degraded in religion and in taste. Blame of course is not cast on individuals; but on the age which produced such perversions blame really should be cast. The truth is that a subtle spirit of paganism has embued the taste and feelings, and almost the religious creed of the mass of professing Christians during many generations; and in nothing has it been more painfully exemplified than in the sepulchral monuments of our immediate ancestors. They did not in fact desert the obsequies consecrated by our Lord's tomb; but while they buried their dead, they introduced the cinerary urn into the symbolical language of the monument, expressing the Christian's grief in language borrowed from heathen cremations: they did not actually invoke heathen deities in any religious service, nor promise to heroes and statesmen an immortality with Mars or Minerva; but they freely introduced mythological figures on the tombs of those whom they would immortalize; they did not actually worship the departed dead, nor celebrate their apotheosis; but such inscriptions as that we have just recorded, are, in their spirit, not very far removed from hero-worship. And sad it is to say, yet true, that the greater part of our most noble ecclesiastical edifices are partially paganised in character, by the obtrusive introduction of such sepulchral devices."

P. 16.

We have spoken hitherto only of the monumental inscription. May we be allowed to pass to the form of the tablet, and to put an important question to architects and architectural societies? What should be the design of a tablet to receive an epitaph in a Gothic church? The question is really important, and demands a better answer than it has yet received. There is a large class of persons who cannot afford the altar tomb, or the recumbent figure, who wish for, and will have, some other record than the stone in the churchyard, or the simple covering of the vault. The square tablet, with Grecian entablatures, &c., and with the usual proportion of urns and Death's heads, must take flight before something of more pretensions to harmony with the church in which they are erected; but what is to supply their place? The favourite plan at present is to magnify ad libitum some niche or piscina, and to suspend it, without any reference to propriety of place, just where the tablet may be best read. This contrivance has been adopted in a church which has attracted, and deservedly, much attention of late, on which very account we should be more cautious lest anything done there, merely because it is done there, should pass into a precedent.

"The ancient cover of the piscina of the fourteenth century is placed in the south-east wall of the chancel, and is converted into a monument to Thoresby, the antiquary; and in the north-east corner of the chancel is a monument to the memory of the Rev. Richard Fawcett, M.A., the late respected vicar of the parish. Both these monuments show the superior effect of monuments in harmony with the building over the Vandal chimneypiece monuments, contrived at an enormous expense by modern marble

masons.

*Introduction to the Seven Sermons preached at the Consecration of the Parish Church of Leeds.

Now the comparative praise here awarded may readily be granted; but it is not so fully admitted that by putting up anywhere a fragment of Gothic design, one gets a Gothic tablet in harmony with the church in which it is erected. The niche, the piscina, the sedile, had each a particular use, and a particular place in the Gothic church, and there each is beautiful and appropriate; but it might be as congruous to imitate an altar-tomb for a priest's seat, as to imitate a piscina for a monumental tablet. This is, indeed, to speak strongly; but to keep within limits: there are three places to which these fragments of Gothic design, or imitations of them, are likely to be promoted, as sepulchral memorials ;—to the surface of a pier, to the blank wall between two windows, and to the space above the capitals of pillars, and between the spring of the arches. Now all these places are above the eye, whereas the piscina was rather beneath it; and the niche for a figure could never occupy any such place, without destroying the general character of the church. Only take out your pencil and draw a mock piscina, of however beautiful proportions, and then arrange about it any part of any church you know likely to be fixed upon for an inscription, and you will at once perceive the want of harmony between the adopted design and everything around it.

The real truth is that we must first recover the feeling which made inscriptions but slight accessories to a tomb; and which taught those who laid their dead in consecrated ground, awaiting the last day for their true greatness, to direct the eye downwards to the pavement for their meek memorials, and not upwards for their blazoned pretensions. Yet, in the meanwhile, something perhaps may be done to find an appropriate device for such tablets as are so frequently erected at the present day. We speak not as suggesting a remedy, but as longing to give due thanks and praise to any who shall find one.

*We do not forget that at Malham, in Yorkshire, and one or two other churches in the same district, there are niches in the pillars; but they are so small as not to break in upon the perpendicular lines, and would not suffice to receive an inscribed tablet.

432

THE LIFE OF TORQUATO TASSO.

PART II.-FROM 1565 TO 1577.

WHEN Tasso arrived at the court of Ferrara, he found every one so engrossed by the preparations for the approaching festivals, that he had some difficulty in obtaining an audience of the cardinal. At last, however, he was admitted to his presence, and was favourably received, the cardinal telling him that he should be entirely master of his time, and that he only wished for his attendance at court when his inclination might lead him thither. The ensuing month was almost entirely occupied by successive entertainments, and we may imagine the effect produced on the mind of the young student by the dazzling scene. Versed as he was in the annals of chivalry, and naturally disposed to delight in magnificence, the concourse of nobles, princes, and ambassadors from various states; the pomp with which the bride made her entrance to Ferrara; the banquet, the music, and, above all, the tournaments, in which a hundred illustrious Ferrarese entered the lists, and combated in presence of the duke and the whole court, realised all that he had read or imagined of days of old. The festivals were interrupted by the sudden death of Pius IV., and the cardinal departed for Rome, to assist at the conclave, leaving Tasso at Ferrara. Two sisters of the duke then adorned the court. Though not in the first bloom of youth, both were lovely and accomplished. mother, the princess Renée of France, had cultivated their taste for letters, for poetry, and music. The eldest, Lucretia d'Este, had shone in the recent galas. Indisposition had either prevented Leonora from appearing, or, as she had little taste for such amusements, had served as an excuse for her absence. Tasso was presented to the Princess Lucretia, and the favourable impression he made on her, led her to introduce him to her sister. He had celebrated them both in his Rinaldo, and he soon ingratiated himself with each. They recommended him to the notice of their brother, the Duke Alphonso, who paid him flattering attentions; and, knowing that he had commenced a poem on the subject of the conquest of Jerusalem, exhorted him to complete the undertaking. He accordingly resumed the work, which had been suspended for two years, and resolved to dedicate the poem to Alphonso, and to consecrate it to the glory of a family who showed so much disposition to befriend him.

Their

In a few months the first six cantos were completed; during the progress of their composition, he read them to the two princesses, and their applause excited and sustained his poetical ardour. He also addressed to them occasional poems, which, from their nature, often cease to interest when the circumstance that called them forth is gone by. Some that Tasso wrote at this time are, however, valuable, both for their intrinsic beauty, and because they throw some light on the nature of his attachment for the two sisters. It is well known that a great controversy exists on this subject, perhaps not more futile than many others which have occupied learned men. It cannot be unim

portant to ascertain what the feelings were, and how far they influenced the destiny of a man whose genius and misfortunes alike claim our interest. We shall return to this subject hereafter; at present it would interrupt the course of the narrative.

Tasso, finding that the cardinal intended to prolong his stay at Rome, made an excursion to Padua in the spring of 1566. His friends, especially Scipio di Gonzaga, were overjoyed to see him. He consulted them on the part he had completed of his Goffredo, and was encouraged by their approbation to proceed. From Padua he went to Milan, to Pavia, and lastly to Mantua, to see and embrace his father. He then returned to the court at Ferrara, where his favour increased with his reputation.

A new field now opened for his talents. Love, in those days, was not only a sentiment and a passion, it was also considered a science. Tasso piqued himself on his proficiency in it-a very excusable pretension in a poet and a philosopher of twenty-two, who had experienced the passion from infancy, as he himself informs us in one of his dialogues. "La mia giovenezza fu tutto sottoposto all' amorose leggi." His first verses, composed at Bologna and Padua, were inspired by love. His homage and his poems were now addressed to Lucretia Bendidio, a lady celebrated for her wit and beauty; but he had a formidable rival in Pigna, secretary to the Duke Alphonso. Pigna sighed and rhymed for Lucretia. Tasso, whose verses far surpassed his, had need of caution to avoid exciting the jealousy of a man who might lessen his credit with the duke. His protectress, Leonora, suggested to him a means of escaping this embarrassment. Pigna had composed three canzoni on the fair object of his affections, which he named the Three Sisters, thus presumptuously comparing them to the three celebrated canzoni of Petrarch on the eyes of Laura, which are known by that name. Tasso employed himself in writing a commentary on these canzoni, and dedicated these "Considerazioni," as he called them, to the princess, with whom the idea originated. The vanity of the author, flattered by the praises of his young rival, did not detect the irony which lurked in the comparison Tasso drew between the poetry of the secretary and that of Petrarch, and thus, though rivals, they continued on amicable terms. Soon afterwards, Tasso, wishing to give Lucretia, Leonora herself, and all the court, a still higher idea of his proficiency in this science than they would entertain from his "Considerazioni," sustained publicly, in the academy of Ferrara, a thesis composed of fifty conclusions. This exercise lasted three successive days, and Scrassi gravely observes, that the talent, subtilty, and learning which he displayed in defending such difficult propositions were wonderful at so early an age. None of his opponents were able to cope with him, except one named Samminiato, and a lady, La Signora Orsina Cavaletti, who combated his twenty-first proposition" That it is the nature of man to love more ardently and more constantly than woman." Perhaps this was one of the difficult propositions that Scrassi thought required all his learning and subtilty to maintain. The lady attacked it with the warmth of a woman who supports the cause of her sex, while the young philosopher bravely defended his.

He was interrupted in these pursuits in September, 1569, by the news of his father's illness. The duke of Mantua had made him governor of the small town of Ostiglia, on the Po. Shortly after he arrived there he fell ill. Torquato hastened to him, and the old man had the comfort of breathing his last in the arms of one of the most affectionate of sons, who deplored his loss as acutely as if it had been premature. The duke commanded his remains to be brought to Mantua, and erected a monument of costly marble to his memory, with this simple inscription

"OSSA BERNARDI TASSI."

Some time afterwards, an order having been issued by the pope to destroy every monument in churches, that was above the level of the pavement, his son removed his ashes to Ferrara.

Bernardo Tasso's portrait may yet be seen in the Council Hall at Bergamo. It represents him with a high and open forehead, expressive eyes, a spare but well-proportioned form, and a pleasing aspect. His character was frank and sincere, mild, and disposed to love and friendship. In prosperity, he betrayed no pride or ambition; in adversity, his fortitude was unshaken. When his fortune permitted, he was liberal, and inclined to expense. Few men have been more free from the base passion of envy-a passion generally originating in an exaggerated estimate of our own merits and importance. He had early cultivated habits of business, and thus escaped a common error of literary men, who imagine their own pursuits are alone worthy to occupy attention. In short, he was blessed with that elastic frame of mind which misfortune may disturb, but can never wholly subdue. His lyric poetry is remarkable for a sweetness which often resembles that of Petrarch. Amadis procured him a high reputation in his time; it is now little read, its extreme length deterring most readers. Dolce, a contemporary, and a rival poet, says that the versification is admirable, the similes true and ingenious; that, in description, he sets objects before us with the skill of a painter; that in delineating the pleasures and pains of love he has never been equalled; and, in his accounts of battles and single combats, scarcely surpassed. There is a truth and reality in them unattainable by any but those who, like himself, were familiar with the shock of arms and the tumult of battles. Nor must we omit to praise the purity of his compositions, a rare merit in the poetical romances of that time, and one to which Ariosto can lay no claim.

Torquato, after he returned from paying the last duties to his father, gave himself up for some time to his grief. The marriage of Lucretia d'Este with the Prince Francesco Maria, son of the duke of Urbino, first roused him from his melancholy. He had, notwithstanding, diligently continued his poem, and had added two cantos more to the six first, when commanded to prepare to follow the cardinal to the court of France.

Before he undertook this long journey, he placed in the hands of a friend a testamentary paper. The first clause related to his works: his love verses he wished to be collected and published; those he had