"ferocity" of the speech of Dante. If we compare his harshness with the "languor and triviality" even of the best of his contemporaries of Monti, for instance, or Giovanni Pindemonte, we shall feel that much is to be forgiven to him. His genius As to matter, his tragedies, at their best, stand in no need of such allowance. Working within the strict bounds of the classical drama, in classical and adhering rigorously to the unity of Tragedy. time though not always that of place, he fulfils the classical ideal more completely than any other modern writer. He shows not merely a splendid mastery of action and situation, but also a grip of character which might well have been thought beyond the reach of his limited resources. The force of classical tragedy, it may fairly be said, depends first and foremost upon the choice of a situation which shall bring the personages of the drama into instant conflict. Herein lies the supreme power of the Greek dramatists, and of Racine among the moderns. And in this faculty Alfieri must surely be reckoned to rival, if not to surpass, Racine himself. Now this concentration upon the situation undoubtedly tends to exclude any such development of the characters as is found in the romantic drama. This was explicitly recognised by Aristotle in his analysis of Greek tragedy: it is borne out by the practice of the Greek dramatists. Of later dramatists according to the classical type, Racine alone had, to some extent, succeeded in overcoming the difficulty. And even Racine must yield the palm to Alfieri. The types of character the latter loves to select are so marked, the passions by which they are moved so strong, that every turn of the action presents them in a new light, and throws them into more and more prominent relief. It would be difficult to name any dramatist in whom the action is so serried, or the shock and counter-shock of the characters so rapid and so intense. This is marked in the extraordinary compression of the plot and the extremely small number of the personages. The latter rarely exceed five, and are not seldom as few as four, while in length these plays hardly ever reach 1500 lines, and often fall short of this limit very far; a result on which it is clear that the author prided himself not a little, applying the knife ruthlessly at each fresh revision and complacently recording the final number to which he reduced himself in several passages of his Life. Thus, by eschewing all ornament, by rigorously cutting away all save the bone and muscle of dramatic action, he was able to give to the classical form something of the life and fulness of Romance. It remains true that, with certain reservations to be mentioned directly, the classical strain prevails Greek and his decisively over the rest. The greatest torical subjects. triumphs of the poet are won, for the most part, in themes already treated by his Greek forerunners. And when he turns, as he does in two of his finest pieces (Filippo and Don Garcia), to themes which may fairly be counted of romantic import, the method, as opposed to the matter, is just as classical as in those which he drew from the repertory of Athens. In truth, it can } not be said that there is anything in the classical model which, of necessity, bars out presentment of character. The mere limits of space, no doubt, not to mention the further restrictions involved in the "unities" (particularly that of time), make it impossible that the classical drama should ever vie with the romantic in this respect. But Agamemnon, Antigone, and Edipus Rex are in themselves sufficient proof that the difference is one of degree rather than of kind. The real danger lies in the opening which the classical type gives to rhetorical declamation, and this danger only the greatest genius, and in its happiest moments, is able to surmount. And it is because he set his face against this temptation from the outset that Alfieri, in his treatment of character no less than in the outward machinery of his plays, may claim to have reverted to the purest form of classical tragedy, and to be the opponent only of the spurious imitation; or rather, to have reached the point at which, in principle, the classical and the romantic dramas are at one. The strange thing is that, when he wrote his tragedies, Alfieri was altogether ignorant of Greek, and does not even seem, as a general rule, to have consulted translations. This was not, perhaps, entirely a disadvantage. It enabled him to treat the well-worn themes with such freedom that they became a new creation in his hands. A glance at Polinice, or Antigone, or Oreste will suffice to establish this. The one ancient dramatist within his reach was Seneca; and, except in the sententious style which he sometimes adopts, and with conspicuous success, it cannot be said that Seneca had any influence upon his mind.1 The rhetoric, the fustian, and the melodrama of the Roman were not only foreign but hateful to his genius. This appears even in his weaker plays; in those, that is, where the subject, the praise of liberty, is more abstract, and therefore lends itself more readily to rhetorical treatment. It cannot be said that such plays-Virginia, Bruto, Timoleone, Agide-are at all equal to the more dramatic pieces. But at least mere rhetoric is avoided. Romantic his Plays. So far we have spoken of those tragedies, and they are the great majority, which are decisively classical in tone. There are others, howelements in ever, which, though still classical in form, approach in spirit more closely to the romantic order. The most notable of these are Saul and Mirra, both composed comparatively late (1782-85). Here the author is content to dispense with action and to paint mood or character directly, without the aid of any such medium. Many have held that his powers are here seen at their highest; and it is recorded that Byron was overcome, even to convulsions, at the representation of Mirra. There can be no doubt that Alfieri, both here and in the last act of Maria Stuarda, reveals a lyric quality, alike in spirit and expression, which could never have been inferred from his more classical pieces. Yet it is hard 1 "La lettura di Seneca m'infiammò e sforzò d'ideare ad un parto le due gemelle tragedie, l'Agamennone e l'Oreste. Non mi pare con tutto ciò ch'elle mi siano riuscite in nulla un furto fatto da Seneca," Vita, ep. iv. cap. 2. not to regret the distinctively dramatic genius, so strong in his earlier tragedies, but here deliberately laid aside. Something of the romantic instinct may be recognised in this departure from the strictly classical type. The same instinct, under another and more disputable shape, had appeared in the classical tragedies themselves. If it be an essential quality of the classical spirit that the artist stands aloof from his work and does not allow his own passions and convictions to enter into it, then Alfieri can never be said to have complied with the classical conditions. Far from it. In most of his plays the personal convictions of the man, in particular his "fierce and furious hatred of all forms of tyranny," force themselves to the surface, and may almost be called the ruling inspiration of the whole. This, doubtless, reduces the weaker samples-Virginia, for instance, and La Congiura de' Pazzi-to the level of an academical exercise. But, in happier moments, it serves to sharpen the poet's dramatic instinct; it quickens him to draw the utmost that can be drawn. from characters with whom, either by attraction or repulsion, he is thoroughly in accord. And it gives a fire and fury to his portraiture which more dispassionate methods could hardly have attained. Yet, with all these abatements, the general effect of his dramas remains decisively classical. And the Subordinate to romantic critics of the next generation were the classical. justified in fixing a great gulf between his aims and theirs. They may have laid too great a 1 See a striking essay by Mazzini, Del Dramma Storico (1830). Opere, ii. 198-272. |