For In His References To Milton, He
Claims (P. 252) To Use An 1818 Venice Translation Of The 'Paradise Lost'
By Rolli.
Now Rolli's 'Paradiso Perduto' is a well-known work which was
issued in many editions in London, Paris, and Italy throughout the
eighteenth century.
But I cannot trace this particular one of Venice,
and application to many of the chief libraries of Italy has convinced me
that it does not exist, and that 1818 must be a misprint for some other
year. The error would be of no significance if Zicari had referred to
Rolli's 'Paradiso' by the usual system of cantos and lines, but he
refers to it by pages, and the pagination differs in every one of the
editions of Rolli which have passed through my hands. Despite every
effort, I have not been able to hit upon the precise one which Zicari
had in mind, and if future students are equally unfortunate, I wish them
joy of their labours. [Footnote: Let me take this opportunity of
expressing my best thanks to Baron E. Tortora Brayda, of the Naples
Biblioteca Nazionale, who has taken an infinity of trouble in this
matter.]
These few extracts, however, will suffice to show that, without
Salandra's 'Adamo,' the 'Paradise Lost,' as we know it, would not be in
existence; and that Zicari's discovery is therefore one of primary
importance for English letters, although it would be easy to point out
divergencies between the two works - divergencies often due to the
varying tastes and feelings of a republican Englishman and an Italian
Catholic, and to the different conditions imposed by an epic and a
dramatic poem. Thus, in regard to this last point, Zicari has already
noted (p. 270) that Salandra's scenic acts were necessarily reproduced
in the form of visions by Milton, who could not avail himself of the
mechanism of the drama for this purpose. Milton was a man of the world,
traveller, scholar, and politician; but it will not do for us to insist
too vehemently upon the probable mental inferiority of the Calabrian
monk, in view of the high opinion which Milton seems to have had of his
talents. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery. The 'Adamo
Caduto,' of course, is only one of a series of similar works concerning
which a large literature has now grown up, and it might not be difficult
to prove that Salandra was indebted to some previous writer for those
words and phrases which he passed on to the English poet.
But where did Milton become acquainted with this tragedy? It was at
Naples, according to Cowper ('Milton,' vol. iii, p. 206), that the
English poet may first have entertained the idea of 'the loss of
paradise as a subject peculiarly fit for poetry.' He may well have
discussed sacred tragedies, like those of Andreini, with the Marquis
Manso. But Milton had returned to England long before Salandra's poem
was printed; nor can Manso have sent him a copy of it, for he died in
1645 - two years before its publication - and Zicari is thus mistaken in
assuming (p. 245) that Milton became acquainted with it in the house of
the Neapolitan nobleman. Unless, therefore, we take for granted that
Manso was intimate with the author Salandra - he knew most of his
literary countrymen - and sent or gave to Milton a copy of the manuscript
of 'Adamo' before it was printed, or that Milton was personally
familiar with Salandra, we may conclude that the poem was forwarded to
him from Italy by some other friend, perhaps by some member of the
Accademia, degli Oziosi which Manso had founded.
A chance therefore seems to have decided Milton; Salandra's tragedy fell
into his hands, and was welded into the epic form which he had designed
for Arthur the Great, even as, in later years, a chance question on the
part of Elwood led to his writing 'Paradise Regained.' [Footnote: Thou
hast said much of Paradise Lost, but what hast thou to say of Paradise
Found? He made no answer, but sat some time in a muse. . . .]
For this poem there were not so many models handy as for the other, but
Milton has written too little to enable us to decide how far its
inferiority to the earlier epic is due to this fact, and how far to the
inherent inertia of its subject-matter. Little movement can be contrived
in a mere dialogue such as 'Paradise Regained '; it lacks the grandiose
mise-en-scene and the shifting splendours of the greater epic; the
stupendous figure of the rebellious archangel, the true hero of
'Paradise Lost,' is here dwarfed into a puny, malignant sophist; nor is
the final issue in the later poem even for a moment in doubt - a
serious defect from an artistic point of view. Jortin holds its peculiar
excellence to be 'artful sophistry, false reasoning, set off in the most
specious manner, and refuted by the Son of God with strong unaffected
eloquence'; merits for which Milton needed no original of any kind, as
his own lofty religious sentiments, his argumentative talents and long
experience of political pamphleteering, stood him in good stead. Most of
us must have wondered how it came about that Milton could not endure to
hear 'Paradise Lost' preferred to 'Paradise Regained,' in view of the
very apparent inferiority of the latter. If we had known what Milton
knew, namely, to how large an extent 'Paradise Lost' was not the child
of his own imagination, and therefore not so precious in his eyes as
'Paradise Regained,' we might have understood his prejudice.
Certain parts of 'Paradise Lost' are drawn, as we all know, from other
Italian sources, from Sannazario, Ariosto, Guarini, Bojardo, and others.
Zicari who, it must be said, has made the best of his case, will have it
that the musterings and battles of the good and evil angels are copied
from the 'Angeleide' of Valvasone published at Milan in 1590.
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