Gerusalemme Liberata

by Torquato Tasso

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Last Assaults and Delayed Victory in Tasso's Liberata

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SOURCE: Da Pozzo, Giovanni. “Last Assaults and Delayed Victory in Tasso's Liberata.1Italica 74, no. 3 (autumn 1997): 319-38.

[In the following essay, Da Pozzo considers impulses toward both indeterminacy and finality in Gerusalemme liberata.]

In the series of critical interpretations over the past ten years, a variety of methodological combinations have been presented regarding the reading of Tasso's main poem both in its singular parts as well as a complete work. These combinations demonstrate not only the ability to renew contemporary critical activity in this field of study, but they also contain these interpretative contributions within the Mannerist field, where Tasso seems to have been placed. It is certainly not necessary to refer to the most significant critical contributions as it would be equivalent to telling the recent history of Tasso's criticism, which is already available in specialized literary reviews.

As for Mannerism,2 with which Tasso is often associated, one could observe that in general terms it is frequently used as an alternative to Pre-Baroque. This practice, motivated by the notion that Baroque was a more effective referent because it was considered more clear and homogeneous, produced the opinion that Baroque was able to be used more efficiently as a cultural signpost. Such is the case with the prefix “pre-” placed before the noun, which should be enough to identify the specificity of the concept expressed. However, the Baroque elements even in their precursorial traits and their diverse national forms present somewhat of an analogy though they are completely different from the so-called essence of Mannerism in their expressive techniques in relation to specific areas of study in the arts.

Recently a different idea has surfaced with the purpose of better identifying the very substance of these attributed cultural elements as Mannerist in the second half of the sixteenth century, thus distinguishing this period and using the term “post-manner,” in analogy, I believe, to the concept of “post-modern,” referring to the realism in art during the second half of the century. Jacopo Bassano, for example, or his contemporaries from the Veneto region, turned to a more direct representation of natural form in direct opposition to their teachers and are considered “post-mannerist” as an indication of this opposition to the modernity that Mannerism painting from the mid 1500s, the true style, seemed to have brought about and wanted to impose. But this indication also seems too much open to undetermined suggestions since the use of “post” in our culture tends to enter into a sort of inflation. Nevertheless, this reference to a post-mannerist movement in the Cinquecento does not fully respond to the specific instances that the critics feel are still present in the literary field.

On the other hand, I am not discussing the merits of other attempts at structuralist interpretations of texts from the late Cinquecento. These interpretations are based on precise and particular instances and, on the whole, are not more widely interrelated.

Given these results, we are tempted to propose a circumstantial experiment: to avoid tentatively the problem of using a name to indicate this style and this type of writing, which is usually labeled as Mannerist, and to prefer instead to focus on the whole with the utmost of attention to the qualifiable expressive intentions as indicators of Mannerism. Such indicators would serve to analyze concretely which elements are not casual, but substantial and recurring, in their persistent desire to reveal themselves.

The circumstance of Tasso's thematic offers the occasion to reflect upon a substantial wholeness that easily lends itself to this purpose and is constituted in Tasso's main poem from the description of the final attack on Jerusalem and the last attack against the Egyptian army which is followed by the victory of the Christian armies. Almost three entire cantos, the final ones in the poem, are of interest when one refers to that part of the poem which takes place around 1575, before the ulterior revision of the text and the later elaboration of the Conquistata.

The reason for such a study is constituted by some elements linked in an intentional way to Tasso's expression. They are the density of episodes and the facts determined by the condensing of the story, even if it was unnecessary; the strategic character of the final situation of the diegesis (Aristotle's narration) to control the closing of the minor stories that link themselves to the major ones which were left incomplete; the permanent uncertainty that, in spite of the final, necessary Christian victory, resurfaces whenever and resurges as soon as it can under various forms in order to create such an effect; the reconnecting of elements that go together but are, only in appearance, peripherally reproducing unifying traces to the central flow of action. Only the concrete analytical verification, of course, renders the perspicuousness of the ways in which this happens, and thus, the stylistic character by which it is brought to life.

A much more complete documentation and illustration of examples would be possible. It is necessary, however, to mention at least some of them.

The limits within which it seems proper to develop this investigation are those of stanza 45 of canto XVIII, when at the back of the Jerusalem wall the new wooden tower has just been built by the Crusaders, and stanza 108 of canto XX, when it is explicitly said that fate points definitely toward the Christians.

All of this constitutes a large narrative unity and is laboriously prepared. The essential event of the conquest happens here at this point in which it must concretely manifest itself. In order to render the difficulty of the obvious victory, as well as the heroic tension with which it occurs, certain events and cross references are combined and thus generate the impression that a definite solution is not immediately found. Tasso's intent is to put into motion two current elements: the close bond of multiple events and the necessary and protracted links of the same final conquest, creating a second front of resistance and menace at the same time that the text concludes.

This also brings an energetic renewal of the delay technique that had been used in the past with great refinement and security since the time of the Aminta. But the technique of delay used in Aminta was exclusively actualized to give the appropriate echo of the delicious language that, in its alternating lyrical and narrative moments, always moves in an oscillating equilibrium between happiness and the contemplation of a possible avoided tragedy.

In the Liberata, on the contrary, the narrative delay technique responds to much more complex intentions: the delayed space in the story cannot, by its nature, lose anything of importance; the moment of final conquest tends to crumble and the plot thickens with events; the same act of the conquest expands and is not definable at a precise moment. For an instant, in fact, one could have the impression, forgetting about the largest references that derive from Christian ideological beliefs, that the conquest could possibly not even happen.

One of the principle tactics particularly vital in the variations and movement of the story is the diversity often manifested in a duality, like the others' presence, as a different and alternative presence that presents itself in a sinuous and hidden manner: hence also the idea of the institutional duality assigned to the guide of the Christian army. The official captain of the army is and undoubtedly remains Goffredo di Buglione. But Rinaldo is not the guide in terms of the individual military worth in as much as he is the instrument of hope and initiative and the projection into the future, in a positive way, for his family. Indeed, since the first time Rinaldo appears in the poem, God's look recognizes him as a warrior endowed with an “animo guerriero” and “spiriti di riposo impazienti,”3 not eager for rewards or dominions, but impatient to do honourable deeds. Baldovino, Tancredi, and Boemondo, on the other hand, are all distracted, having abandoned the great project of the military and religious task for which they had originally left their own native countries.

If Goffredo is the guide of the army and the depository of the acknowledged authority, and has in himself the source of the command (so that he considers, rebukes, orders to achieve the great project of the conquest of the holy city), Rinaldo is the power already prepared to renew the will of it: both here, at the beginning of the poem, when, desiring action, he pays attention to the great ancient facts remembered by Guelfo in his narration.4 Likewise, after returning from the islands of Fortune where he has been segregated by Armida because of her fascination for him, after regaining consciousness of his duties, as if he had to give evidence to his will to retrieve the time not spent in the war, Rinaldo will enter the enchanted forest, just at the beginning of canto XVII, in order to conquer the evil, opposing forces. In this way it will be possible to get new timber to rebuild the wooden tower burnt by the Pagans to lean it against the city walls and thus pick up, in short, the renewal of the war.

One could say that in the character of Rinaldo the duality is activated in a particular important way, qualifying itself as the initial instrument that gives twice the operative impulse of the Christian army in the first and, again, in the eighteenth canto, taking into account many different and complex implications.

Rinaldo is the first to arrive at the top of the besieged city's wall (XVIII.78); but it is Goffredo who plants the crusaders flag on top of the same wall (XVIII.99) with each having his own duties to attend to which resolves the awkward situation of who has preminence/predominance between the two. But, returning to Rinaldo who is already on top of the wall, one of the most important segments noted here is the end of the eighteenth canto with the city of Jerusalem in view, invaded by Christian ranks according to the last stanza of the canto, which reveals a sight of collapse, of destruction and rampant death:

Entra allor vincitore il campo tutto
per le mura non sol, ma per le porte;
ch'è già aperto, abbattuto, arso e destrutto
ciò che lor s'opponea rinchiuso e forte.
Spazia l'ira del ferro; e va co'l lutto
e con l'orror, compagni suoi, la morte.
Ristagna il sangue in gorghi, e corre in rivi
pien di corpi estinti e di mal vivi.

(XVIII.105)

These are verses that seem to announce the fall of the city; they assure that the moment of its fall has arrived. The word “death” is the strongest term that unifies the last part of the eighteenth canto with the next one.

But, on the contrary, the initial point of the nineteenth canto, which isolates the heroic figure of Argante who remains to combat by himself on the wall, reproposes the idea of a strenuous resistance that gives again space to the drama of the great personal conflicts in preparing for the duel between Tancredi and Argante, which forms the first part of this penultimate canto. And this drama creates the suggestion, clearly perceivable through the expansion of a personal episode, of a defensive renewal that seems to resound through the entire city.

The duel between Tancredi and Argante is a main episode by itself, precisely because of the tension of style and richness of emotion by which it is shaped. And neither here nor throughout the entire canto, otherness and duality do not separate, since the corpse of Argante will be carried together with the alive Tancredi, in the name of an honor due to an heroic warrior. But the bond of duality works again after that duel, in continuing to structure the following actions that complete canto XIX and by which the last one is formed.

This entire process creates a very complex texture of forces that now makes us inclined to believe the end of the resistance is near. Yet it also makes us consider the possibility of the Pagans continuing it. All this is possible because of Tasso's very sharp and far-sighted stylistic consciousness.5 The duality introduces itself, above and beyond these individual conflicts, as a presence in the basic structure of the narrative.6

In effect, the city is almost completely destroyed, but the pagan resistance is not over, not even after Argante's death. The otherness-duality returns in the form of a recharged propelling force in the sense that it inserts one of the two elements inside the city, coinciding with the Egyptian army, about whose presence the Christians will hear soon after, while it is coming on its way to help the besieged in Jerusalem.

The resistance to Christian assaults parts, then, in two sites: one is placed in the tower of David, where the prominent pagan chiefs saved, Solimano and king Aladino, retire; the other one finds its seat just in the Egyptian army, which is still far but is approaching, and which will be the reference point for the important enclave of the narration regarding the secret mission of Vafrino, squire of Tancredi, to know the minds, the plans of the new supervened enemies.

A particular point must be specified, because it brings new information, in this case, to the characteristic feature of the quickening though not perfectly balanced construction, typical of Tasso's way of experimenting with what usually is called mannerism in construction. It consists in the fact that previously, before the pagan forces that escaped can retire and the resistance in the tower of David can take shape, Tasso's capability of invention creates another temporary resistance, which is that of the pagan people barred in the temple of Salomon, where they had retired ascending the highest of the civil hills (XIX.31.1-2). Twice Rinaldo runs the length of the walls' perimeter, trying to enter. Like a wolf who goes round the enclosed herd, according to a Homer7 image, he realizes that, for a moment, the “alte torri” and the “ferrate porte” of the temple (XIX.33.8) seem to have given a temporary capacity of resistance to the ranks closed in the temple. But sometimes the premonitory symptoms of an event are more subtle, as when, for example, the Pagans besieged in Jerusalem, passing the two towers remade by Christians before the walls, they see, in comparison with their new machine, “la città più bassa” (XVIII.91.4). By a similar, subtle trait Solimano also, in repeating anxiously what he desires may happen, that is the Crusaders (“i Franchi”) may lose the war, in the same soft-worked anadyplosis through which this idea is expressed, between the end of stanza 54 in XIX canto and the beginning of the 55 (“alfin perdran la guerra” [XIX.54.8]; “E certo i' so che perderanla alfine” [XIX.55.1]), shows us the increasing inquietude because of fear that just the contrary may happen. In a similar way, delicate and varied links to mix different moments in the development of action lay on minimal linguistic variations. One instance is the taking heart of the Pagans who are going to be defeated and who had abandoned the walls in dread at the beginning of canto XIX (“Già la morte, o il consiglio, o la paura / da le difese ogni pagano ha tolto” [XIX.1.1]), where the dread of those lines becomes properly a moment of fear, an attenuated term which helps to justify that relative possibility to restart in the defense (“Finalmente ritorna anco ne' vinti / la virtù che 'l timore avea fugata” [XIX.44.2]).

Then, handling a big pole, Rinaldo strikes the gate and breaks it down, favoring also in this circumstance the entrance of the Crusaders; and the massacre they carry out of the people gathered in the temple is more blame-worthy inasmuch as perpetuated against people considered guilty. These are stanzas rarely read or which the European reader is inclined to drop, precisely because in them the Christian forces are shown as acting cruelly against unarmed people. The indication of a first resistance, which disappears, recalls for the first time, after entering the city, the difficulty the Christians still encounter. At the same time, the surrendering and the subsequent massacre that take place in the pagan temple immediately superimpose a tragic ending. Soon after, the idea is substituted by Solimano and Aladino and the other remaining resisters, who form a stronger and more organized defense in the tower of David.8

It is the fading and resurgence of a new image that must be remembered for the analogy that it presents, for the combining and linking to the later actions. This is where we must shift our attention, since a review of all the signs leading to ideas or hints of a Christian victory would take up too much space here.9

The duality presented in the duels as a propelling element in the story is certainly not a novelty, but a given. Yet Tasso interweaves the duality with an intense series of functions that cannot be compared simply to the usual and customary form of the encounter between the two who look for each other, desiring the union or the suppression of one from the other. One need only consider the case of Tancredi and Argante, who are found by Erminia and Vafrino as they have been after their duel, both bearing traces of deep wounds, one still alive and the other dead, both dead in appearance, at the first sight, and in a different way victims of the death that is spreading throughout the city.

But the duality, with its possible activation, is not only of interest to the characters in couples and their variable possible relationship. The underscoring of an unexpected relationship is verified, much more at this point than in the latter part of the poem, between the theme of weapons and the theme of astuteness, which requires a response of even more effective shrewdness. Vafrino, Tancredi's squire who speaks various languages and knows how to camouflage himself, and is quick-spirited and pliant,10 is dispatched to go to the Egyptian camp, which only by chance has been known to be very far away from the Crusaders. Vafrino's mission11 should enable him to gather information about the Egyptian army and constitutes an essential connection between the theme of weapons and the theme of other people's shrewdness that will be defeated. Vafrino, after the long parenthesis of his mission, does not only report the news about the approaching Egyptian ranks but he also overhears, quite by chance, the way in which the group of eight Egyptian cavalrymen will try to kill Goffredo in the imminent fight: the eight cavalrymen will dress in the same uniforms as his personal guards, wearing only a small sign on their helmets making it possible for them to recognize each other.12 This news will permit Goffredo to cleverly anticipate the danger. Goffredo's guards will change their uniforms just before meeting the Egyptian troops, thus the eight murder-minded will be recognizable because their camouflage will have been eliminated. The would-be assassins, in fact, will be killed and disposed of.13

This is one of the remaining active elements, as well as one of the most important, that take place externally around the figure of Vafrino.14 This should not be a reminder of the analytical reasons of wonderment contained in one particular stanza (for example, the description of the eight cavalrymen approaching Goffredo and the fast and decisive way in which they are eliminated, etc.). Rather, the inner wonderment regarding the fundamental reasons and structure of the story, which not only open themselves to a new relationship between the theme of weapons and the alternative theme of astuteness,15 regroups all this in a weak and accidental bond that, only for a moment and only partially, denies any expectation of obtaining a not indecisive safety. This means that Tasso uses a complex constructive operation in rendering the ideas of wonderment. Particularly, Tasso works not only the more bright and apparent parts of the text but also the more internal and hidden areas by inventing new springs of wonderment so that the relationship between the depth and the surface is really much more complex than what is visible at first glance.

The large structuring loop of Vafrino's mission is related to and constitutes an ulterior delay in the action, but in its substance it is an agile and sinuous narrative collector that reassesses some of the information that, for some time, was left unresolved or suspended.

Vafrino's mission to the Egyptian camp is also the function that verifies, through the readers' perception, the new situation of double correlativity, typical of a deep structure which is profoundly elaborated. This is consistent with the fact that while the last pagan resistance in the tower of David is under control, the Christians from stanza 91 of the 144 that form the last canto, or, if we prefer, until the death of Solimano in stanza 107, are the besiegers of the tower of David at the same time they are being besieged by the Egyptian army from the outside.16 A double function, we can say, that was neither wanted in the act of the besiege in Homer's Iliad, nor in what is recorded in Virgil's Aeneid, at least in reference to an array of real opposite troops that instead we see here in Tasso. The confirmation of this even in the analytical reference texts lies in the fact that at a certain point it is the Christian army that seems to want to break a siege. Tasso emphasizes this with Goffredo's intent to go out: “Uscirem contra a la nemica gente, / nó già star deve in muro o'n vallo chiuso / il campo domator de l'Oriente” (XIX.130.4-6). Such a double relationship of besieger and besieged is the organizational presupposition of the material that tries to substantiate an idea of uncertainty that can find an explicit external cross reference in the declaration of various natural forms in regards to, for example, Heaven's favor that, above all else, is justifiably evident in establishing such a choice.

In Aladino's moment of unexpected contemplative abduction, while he is retreating to the tower of David, he laments the end of his reign, now imminent (XIX.40). On the other hand, Solimano makes the most out of the heroic principle that the kingdom did not fall, that the kingdom is in all of them, the few that count and retreated together (XIX.41). It is in this way that the drapery of complex positive and negative indicators are placed not only in one layer but expand and repeat on different levels and in all directions, completing, divaricating, and throwing themselves again into communicating spaces that are continually being invented and generate an ever increasing volume of movement. All of this clearly shows how the insertions of episodes come from a strong need for communication in which descriptive lines seem to be motivated only by lyrical reasons. They also become, on the contrary, the instrument that connects and unites the episodes and events that somehow, in the end, lead back to the final destination of the action.

The addition of linked episodes, which is so evident in these last cantos, seems to be a necessity in uniting the lines of the stories that remained suspended; it is the entire need to spread out the narrative material according to a perspective that is, on the whole, unbalanced and very rational and that within its rationality allows the reentering of the saved curved lines of the story to finally weave together from various sections into one moment toward the end of the text. This is born from the need to straighten out all of the converging facts brought into the complex conquest while contemporaneously operating as a course of action that delays its own completion.

The condensing of inventions and connections carries with it the complication of temporal references that passes from the beginning of the basic notations of coinciding events to more complex formulas, linked to the working out of meanings either of those previously indicated, or those related to subsequent facts, or simply consisting in the anticipation of predicted events and approaching deadlines.17 But the two great temporal markers, synthetically expressed, which link to themselves all the other chronologic bearings, are the two jutting “Già,” at the beginning of both the penultimate and last canto. They each cause the reader to think of the facts as though they had almost entirely occurred, while on the contrary, immediately after, the most tragic and heroic episodes, regarding those who are still resisting, are still occurring in new dramatic forms.18

The existential analogy of actions permits, for example, that after having taken the city, when the Crusaders, at the end of the XVIII canto, enter from all directions, each singular resistance is given the highest value because it elevates their heroism, which feeds upon the feeling of general uncertainty.

From this point, the entire series of gratuitous delays, which are necessary for the expressive needs of Tasso's poetry, disappear, unfolding the thin inventions that mark again the organized nuances of tension and suspense. This is such a tangible truth that only in stanza 108 of canto XX does Tasso explicitly show that Fortune is now on the Crusaders' side:

e Fortuna, che varia e instabil erra,
più non osò por la vittoria in forse,
ma fermò i giri, e sotto i duci stessi
s'unì co' Franchi e militò con essi.

(5-8)

It is exactly this precision, revealed at the end of the poem, that makes us think about the dualism that once again manifests itself towards the end of the text and, this time, in quite a different manner.19 In addition, at the height of the operating forces in the poem, those good and Christian on one side and those diabolic and pagan on the other, another divarication takes place that in part refers to the problems present in the classical epic tradition, the distinction between divine will and Fortune as two different realities that are certainly not described in a consistent way but, in any case, are very clear. It is well known that divine will had, from the beginning, taken the side of the Christians; it intervenes during the moments more or less opportune to incite the Crusaders. Fortune is the term that carries the narrator into the flow of traditional epic poetry where suspense, which by nature must dominate and is cautiously handled by Tasso, is the customary and exact element of the literary genre of the poem.20

In this dramatic and oscillating scenery, the moments also are emphasized in which the poet pauses and shows how savagery in the raid of the city is practiced also by Christians, in this way revealing Tasso's intent to defend verisimilitude even at this point.21 On the whole, it is an active system of varying expression that updates in different ways the constant desire for liberation contrasted with suspense.

On the other hand, the episode of Vafrino's mission to the Egyptian camp is only in one aspect a narrative enclave, and cannot be compared to the wide digressive insertion, from XV to XVII canto, in the story that constitutes the removal of Rinaldo who falls in love with Armida and went to the Fortunate Island (and to the similar journey made by Carlo and Ubaldo who take him back to war as the most valuable knight); the aim of the episode is to recover the lover that must be taken back to the battlegrounds. Here, instead, the expedition of Vafrino and his figure is a tool that is used in more than one way: as a hidden observer of a new waiting military situation; as a reason for the unexpected meetings (Erminia, Tancredi, Argante); as an occasion to provoke the telling of facts that have remained incomplete; as a tool that places the casualness in relief by intermingling it with larger intentions (the explanations of the impending threat that casually presents itself to Goffredo, or the casual meeting between Vafrino and Erminia); as a citation of a new informative element about the structure of the Egyptian army that, in spite of its sprawling disorganization, remits into discussion the possibility of Christian victory, due to the information of the pagan vast military ranks.

While a conclusion is suggested by the attention given to the completion of other minor stories (only a part of Erminia's story is known at this point; the uncertainty of what has happened to Tancredi is only now revealed when he is found injured, etc.), the events that create a new threat, in particular the approaching Egyptian army, oppose the understood and necessary victory of the Crusaders claimed by Catholic ideology, and are shared with a much disputed narrative purpose and complex meaning that react on two levels and that are tightly woven together.

The care in joining the plots of some of the remaining unfinished stories is evident both in the penultimate as well as in the last canto with some selected passages. This obviously responds to the desire to create the idea of a marked space with accurate and analytical terms when they refer to previous, close narrations, but instead are given as summarized information when referring to the stories of more importance, connected with facts of local history. Among the many examples, let us review the particular case in canto XIX.26.5-6, where Argante was menacing while dying and did not languish (“e tal morìa qual visse: / minacciava morendo e non languia”), that is later reintroduced in XIX.102.6-8, when he is found by Erminia and Vafrino, who come back to Jerusalem, with the same attitude he assumed when dead (“e poi vider nel sangue un guerrier morto / che le vie tutte ingombra, e la gran faccia / tien volta al cielo e morto anco minaccia”).

The overall effect is that, against a rich intersection of plans in motion, a variety of uncertain messages grow inside the singular stories that form the larger picture and correspond to the converging messages about the various uncertainties of human life. Destiny's general uncertainty is followed by the behavior of biased contradictions of singular individuals. It is precisely their non-unitized destiny, thus their destiny's ambiguousness, which enlarges the view of their individual situations at the moment in which the main action converges upon a single outcome.

The necessity to reconnect the partial and peripheral parts to a more defined unifying process, which raises the attention toward a high and persistant reason for undertaking, continues to pay careful attention to the varied choices that are noticeable only when compared to one another and to all of the relevant analytical elements. A good part of the unifying bonds pass through the figures of Goffredo and Rinaldo, through places of muted memories, and also through the character of Armida or the head commander of the Egyptian army, who makes their appearance toward the end of the poem.

Goffredo's exhortatory speech at the beginning of canto XX has a clear unifying function; the hint, precisely of the ‘santo acquisto’ (XX. 19.6) recalls the “glorioso acquisto” of the first canto (I.1.4), even at the moment of the final battle. Still, in canto XX Rinaldo's final speech to Armida can be remembered, when he wishes her a definitive serenity and her sweetened response; or the mentioning of Goffredo's “famosa mano” (XX.137.8), which takes Emireno to his death, and is the same “mano” metonymically remembered since the first canto (“Molto egli oprò col senno e con la mano” [I.1.3]) to recall the entire action of the Christians' chief; as well as many other analogous cases.

The different shapes, the numerous levels of reference, the extremely selective linguistical choices, and the partially simplified manner in which these processes are expressed constitute a concentrated nodal point that is a significant part of Tasso's expressive style, both in his epic poetry as well as in a large part of his other writings.

This analysis, of course, should also be extended to the Conquistata, but there is no space here to do it. However, we can say that also in this last work, the phenomena mentioned above are confirmed, in a broader variety of released attitudes.

Surely these traits of Tasso's narration style are not the only ones used by the poet in the Liberata, but appear in other forms as well. Nevertheless, those we have described have a value of fundamental choices that, concentrating on themselves, signify more directly the whole of these stylistic preferences in an essential moment of shaping the text. At the same time, they also reveal the vital and more continuous impetus that vibrates through Tasso's existential experience. There is no doubt about the impossibility of cataloguing, in the polarized scheme in which the text seems to be organized, all the contemplative glances toward the mixture of reality that substantially involves every human event and that by itself, according to the feelings of the poet, produces astonishment or rather dismay. About these moments of Tasso's expressiveness, it is possible to assemble a good number of examples: from the sense of beauty felt in the horror of weapons, to the entanglement of gestures and feelings of Gildippe and Odoardo, slaughtered by Solimano.22

The term “mannerism” has often been used to indicate all of these interlaced systems of expression, which can also be found in other texts of the second half of the seventeenth century, consciously based on a difficult counterbalancing of the inner components. The term assumes a remarkable convenience because it includes the main idea of a scheme that claims not to be perfect and equalized, but a balancing of forms that is fond of being denied; of an attraction to the void, frustrated by a continuous anxiety of filling every space and that prefers to let itself be felt instead of being openly explicit in revealing itself. Nevertheless, from an historical point of view, we are dealing with a term that does not give satisfactory answers to the requirements of interpretative problems concerning many texts in Italian literature of the late 1500s. This includes those of Tasso, because in a pertinent way the reference to the history of art is prevalent, and in particular to the reality of painting. And this trend occurs for the most part relating to events which took place 30 or 50 years before, in the culture of the Cinquecento.

The term “mannerism,” used by everyone of us for its flexibility, does not offer a complete reference to the internal correspondence of facts and stylistic choices located at deep levels in a text; to the opposition and connections of processes activated and entangled with the idea of movement in narration; to the obsessive and doubtful increase of reasons, not only of images, which we can see in the last cantos of Tasso's poem and in many other texts of the late sixteenth century.

Mannerism in art, in the most striking way we can perceive it, tries to identify each figure through a sort of different aggregation of the substance used, which spreads fluidity throughout the whole, more than by a persistent refining of each individual trait. Rather than the specific sign of the individual traits, inside of this “fluid” pictorial climate, the idea of inter-exchangeability of movements has a basic importance in Mannerism. Therefore Mannerism, from this point of view, is connected also with a condition of anxiety and doubt. Perhaps this is the point it has in common with what is present also in literature, but that, on the contrary, because of the specific character of its verbal construction, should be named with a different term, just to allow to mannerism that wide implied hedonistic tendency in sketching that exists in “mannerist” painting but too often is not so obvious in literature.

How then would we label this manner, this kind of style, in a more pertinent fashion and leave the term “mannerism,” as it seems right to do, to the Art historians and critics? We could suggest the term syncretionism, a neologism invented on the spot, a newly minted coinage, surely of difficult currency, but a term that could underline the flowing of this message through the structures of the language and the way in which this style of writing is filled with counterweights and internal tensions; or, we could name it in another way. The point is that it is important to agree upon the characteristics of the previous examined narrative processes and the distinctive quality of their literary achievement in comparison to other similar traits in the field of art.

In the literary culture of the late 1500s, the interweaving of figures is the movement that operates, in a certain way, as if it were conditioned by a “preventive préclusion,” by an intellectual anticipatory prohibition, arising just at the moment that the movement starts, as if there were many doubts about the final efficacy in communicating its complex and partially frustrated message.

Syncretionism, or some other term like this, while we are waiting for something better, could be used to signify the whole of the features we have discussed here, and which are also present in many literary texts of the late 1500s, provided we refer only to the formal construction and not to poetics or ideology. Such a term may have an advantage when referring to construction and expressiveness together, of their enucleating the close rising and interaction of the inventions of the narrative episodes, or the temporary random shifting of the main attention into the polychrome scenery of the vibrating expressiveness.

These choices, much favored by Tasso, take shape in a succession of analogical events, linked by similarity of forms, which progressively modify the parallel relationship in regard to those in which they were initially associated. Likewise, the initial analogy of different forms, sometimes offered as a founding factor, modulates itself and enhances its autonomous traits which seem to overtake their own characters and place themselves in a periferic space of the story. This seems to induce these deflecting bonds, not because the continuation of narration requires it but because of a sort of arbitrary, irresistable but temporary compulsion, to be subjected to the shaping forces working in that very moment. And in the same time, the need of bringing the idea of unity into the foreground urges Tasso to resort back to cross-referencing through which evidence of final intent is emphasized. And these marks, obviously, do not always blend perfectly with the whole organism of expression elaborated so far.

It will be necessary to have, as the Germans would say, an “aktive Geduld,” an active patience, to find the proper lenses that focus on this terminological proposal and clearly identify all of the ingredients of expressiveness that correspond to it in the literary texts of that time.

For the moment, the features pointed out above seem to be strongly significant of the evident and also sharply hidden contrasts of the late Cinquecento according to the reflection they have in Tasso's poetry, in its most concentrated figures I have been pleased to outline here.

Notes

  1. The text printed here was presented as a paper at the Conference Torquato Tasso and the Expressive Culture of Late Renaissance Ferrara, at Harvard University, April 13-14, 1996.

  2. Among literary crities, the first to use the term is E. Robert Curtius in his Europäische Literatur und Lateinisches Mittelalter (Bern: A. Francke, 1948). In the field of art, the discussion originates with Max Dvorák, “Über Greco und der Manierismus” Kunstgeschichte als Geistesgeschichte (München: Piper, 1928). For various reasons, the following are among the important critical contributions: Eugenio Battisti “Lo spirito del Manierismo,” Letteratura 4 (1956): Giusta Niece Fasola, “Storiografia del Manierismo,” Scritti di storia dell'arte in onore di Lionello Venturi I (Roma: De Luca, 1956): Gustav René Hocke, “Die Welt als Labyrinth,” Manierismus in der Literatur (Hamburg: Rowohlt Taschenbuch Verlag GmbH, 1959), Ital. trans., Il manierismo della letteratura (Milano: Il Saggiatore, 1965).

    I refer as well to Jacques Legrand, “Le Maniérisme européen” Critique 152 (1960); Arnold Hauser, Sozialgeschichte der Kunst und Literatur (München: Beck, 1958), Ital. trans., Storia sociale dell'arte, 4 vols. (Torino: Einaudi, 1955: 1st Italian ed., 1964; reprint 1987); Achille Bonito Oliva, L'ideologia del traditore, Arte, maniera, manierismo (Milano: Feltrinelli, 1976); Achille Bonito Oliva, Minori maniere: dal Cinquecento alla transavanguardia (Milano: Feltrinelli, 1985). A strong stand against the concept of mannerism in painting in reference to the second half of the sixteenth century, especially to Jacopo Bassano's works, is expressed by Roger Rearick quite recently in his “Post-Maniera,” La ragione e l'arte. Torquato Tasso e la Repubblica Veneta, a cura di Giovanni Da Pozzo (Venezia: Il Cardo, 1995).

    Some indications concerning the use of mannerism in literature can be found in Leo Olschki, Struttura spirituale e linguistica del mondo neolatino (Bari: Laterza, 1935). For the field of Italian literature, we select here only the references to Georg Weise, “Manierismo e letteratura,” Rivista di letterature moderne e comparate 13 (1960) and “Storia del termine ‘manierismo,’” Manierismo, Barocco, Rococò: concetti e termini. Convegno internazionale, Roma 21-24 aprile 1960. Relazioni e discussioni (Roma: Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei, 1962. Problemi attuali di scienza e di cultura, quaderno n. 52); Riccardo Scrivano, Il manierismo nella letteratura del Cinquecento (Padova: Liviana, 1959), and the review of Dante Della Terza, “Manierismo nella letteratura del Cinquecento,” Belfagor 15 (1960); Ludwig Binswanger, Tre forme di esistenza mancata. Esaltazione fissata, stramberia, manierismo, Ital. trans. (Milano: Il Saggiatore, 1964); Edoardo Taddeo, “Il manierismo letterario e Domenico Venier,” Studi secenteschi 10 (1970); Edoardo Taddeo, Il manierismo letterario e i lirici veneziani del tardo Cinquecento (Roma: Bulzoni, 1974); Georg Weise, Il manierismo, Bilancio critico del problema stilistico e culturale (Firenze: Olschki 1971); Tibor Klaniczay, La crisi del Rinascimento e il manierismo (Roma: Bulzoni, 1973); Amedeo Quondam “La trasgressione del codice: problemi del codice: problemi del Manierismo e proposte sul metodo,” Letteratura e critica, Studi in onore di Natalino Sapegno II (Roma: Bulzoni, 1975); Amedeo Quondam, La parola nel labirinto. Società e scrittura nel manierismo a Napoli (Bari: Laterza, 1976); Georg Weise, Manierismo e letteratura (Firenze: Olschki, 1976); Wolfgang Drost, Strukturen des Manierismus in Literatur und Bildener Kunst. Eine Studie zu den trauerspielen Vincenzo Giustis (1532-1619) von Wolfgang Drost (Heidelberg: C. Winter Universitätsverlag, Göttingen, Hubert, 1977); Andrea Gareffi, Le voci dipinte, Figura e parola nel manierismo italiano (Roma: Bulzoni, 1981). Gerhard Regn, “Tasso und der Manierismus,” Romanistisches Jahrbuch 38 (1987). The outline drafted more than thirty years ago by Ezio Raimondi, “Per la nozione di manierismo letterario,” in the cited volume of the proceedings of the Accademia Nazionale dei Lincei Conference published in 1962, is still remarkably important for this subject. The use of italics to add emphasis in quotations from the text is mine.

  3. Liberata I.10.3 and 4: as Baldovino is overcome by “cupido ingegno,” I.9.1. Boemondo aims at great exploits. Citations from the Liberata are followed by the number of the canto (in Roman numerals), the stanza, and, when necessary, the verses (in Arabic numerals). The quotations are taken from Tutte le poesie di Torquato Tasso, a cura di Lanfranco Caretti (Milano: Mondadori, 1957), I use italics for emphasis in quotations from the text.

  4. God Himself observes Rinaldo straining to listen to the stories of Guelfo: “scorge che da la bocca intento pende / di Guelfo, e i chiari antichi esempi apprende” (I.10.7-8).

  5. The prolongation of resistance, within the general framework, is made possible particularly by the intervention from the outside of the Egyptian army about which we first have news through a message carried by a dove flying towards the besieged in Jerusalem. The dove falls into the hands of Goffredo when, intercepted by a falcon, it takes refuge in his lap (XVIII.49.1-3). The head of the Egyptian army, in the message, summons the besieged pagans to resist four or five days more. And we should note that Tasso makes us aware of a very different point of view, a perspective quite opposite to that of the Christians, which is that of the Egyptian army. The Egyptian general, in fact, but in a sense of his own, speaks of liberation: “… resisti e dura / insino al quarto o insino al giorno quinto, ch'io vengo a liberar coteste mura / e vedrai tosto il tuo nemico vinto” (XVIII.52.1-4).

    This sign, then, is interpreted by Goffredo as the will of Divine Providence to reveal everything to the Christians and therefore considered a positive one. Other signs, even if only subtly hinted, of a fortunate result for the Christian forces emerge again, in a more distinct way, in canto XVIII. For instance: “e lui fortuna or guida, / perché 'l nemico a sé dovuto uccida” (XVIII.67.7-8) (referring to Goffredo) and “è giunta l'ora / ch'esca Sion di servitù crudele” (XVIII.92.5-6), constitutes partial signaling of the will to provide aid toward victory. And thus also, precisely, on the ground of the fights, in XVIII.104.5-6, is emphasized one of the most important concessions of control by the defense: “Ma il re cedendo alfin di là si parte perch'ivi disperata è la difesa.”

    Another subtle underlining of the idea of an approaching definitive victory comes at the point where we are shown the change from personal duel to a general description of the Christians invading the city: “Mentre qui segue la solinga guerra … l'ira de' vincitor trascorre ed erra / per la città” (XIX.29.3-4), where the characterization of the Christians as victorious will prove an anticipation of the actual course taken by the events.

  6. Duality penetrates, sometimes, even into remote recesses of the text: for example, along with the plan to kill Goffredo, prepared by eight horsemen of the Egyptian army, which Vafrino will learn of at the end of canto XIX: there is set also, as a doubling of purpose, the promise made by Altamoro to kill Rinaldo: “ch'assai tosto averrà che l'empia testa / di quel Rinaldo a piè tronca ti veggia, / o menarolti prigionier con questa / ultrice mano, ove prigion tu 'l chieggia” (XXI.71.3-6).

  7. Perhaps their suggestive power derives from Homer as well as that of the rounds made along the walls by Rinaldo (but twice only, in comparison with the three times by Hector fleeing Achilles beneath the walls of Troy; fewer turns, but a subtle evocation of the idea of a defense that seems invincible).

  8. The withdrawal into the tower of David has, however, another consequence, rapidly alluded to, of great importance. From the tower the pagans will control the way to the Holy Sepulchre, as they will be able to hurl stocks at anyone trying to go there. And this position of partial power, achieved by a besieged group, will be held almost until the last moment, the definitive conclusion of all the action.

    The tower of David is important, therefore, not only in itself, as a center of resistance not eliminated, but also as a site that still blocks the accomplishment of the “alta impresa,” that of winning “il gran Sepolcro” (and to be noticed is the perfect linkage of the beginning with the ending of the poem: I.1.2 and XX.144.8) fulfilling the vow.

    The importance, in fact minor, of the pagan resistance in the tower is related to the importance of the site from which that defense is controlled. The temple “che fu magion di Dio” (XIX.38.2) that is paganized, has already fallen; but the true one, the “gran Sepolcro,” has not yet been taken. This is thus a further structure of the plot, in relation to the main vectors of action sustaining the dominant tension within the text. And the whole effect is that of partially shifting the specific reasons of wonder. The tower is besieged by the Christian army, and hopes to receive help from the outside, from the Egyptian army; yet at the same time it plays a crucial role in controlling a place very important to both armies. And the Christian army, besieging the tower, is about to be pressed from the outside by the Egyptian army.

  9. In various subtle ways, indicators of the shifting balance between pagan resistance and Christian victory continue to figure in cantos XIX and XX: Rinaldo watching the temple of Salomon “trovò chiuse le porte e trovò molte / difese apparecchiate in su le cime” (XIX.34.3-4). These verses give us an idea of the defense of an almost new city, only a short one, after the Christians have reached the top of the painfully conquered city walls of Jerusalem. And pertinent to the assault of a city is also what Rinaldo, almost like a battering ram, does with a beam, placed against the portal of the temple of Salomon: “Non l'ariete di far più si vanti” (XIX.37.5). Solimano, in a burst of noble pride, declares that royal dignity, his own, is the true dignity, the essential basis of any rebound, even in the face of the loss of the kingdom (“Tolgaci i regni pur sorte nemica, / ché 'l regal pregio è nostro e 'n noi dimora” [XIX.41.3-4]); the very same attitude of Goffredo, in the last canto so appears in the eyes of everyone “ch'altrui certa vittoria indi presume” (XX.7.1-2) because “Novo favor del Cielo in lui riluce” (XX.7.3); and even the exhortatory address of Emireno, chief of the Egyptians, to his soldiers, is much more abrupt, less compact and tense than Goffredo's to the Christians (cfr. XX.24.5-8; XX.25.1-2; XX.25.7-26.8; XX.27.1-4).

    The departure of Solimano and Aladino from the tower resembles one from a city, although we do not yet know whether it will succeed in breaking the siege (“seguon poi gli altri ed Aladino stesso” [XX.76.6]). On the other hand, a new moment of uncertainty arises as well as a possibility of the Christians in part retiring/retreating again (“Il Guascon ritirandosi cedeva” [XX.83.1]). This possibility, however, is quickly succeeded by a contrasting one (“ma se ne gìa disperso il popol siro” [XX.83.2]). The impulse that leads Solimano to face the decisive moment of his existence is committed to an ambiguous combination of two forces; the “proveder divino” (XX.75.1) and that particular attraction to death that prompts him to leave no stone unturned (“o che sia ch'a la morte ormai vicino / d'andarle incontro stimolar si sente” [XX.75.5-6]); two reasons linked and not incompatible, although the first seems more pressing. Meanwhile, the non-definitive combination of those two forces feeds the subsequent narration. The opposing impulses, supported by a poetic of the verisimilitude, if not precisely of “meraviglia,” in many ways guide us through the passing considerations of the mutability of military fortunes (“così varian le cose in un momento” [XX.88.6]), more and more favorable to the Christians. And the downward trend that leads to the pagan defeat, culminates, surely not by chance, in the defeat, expressed as silence, on the part of the divinity opposed to the Christian God, that Mahomet, whose name alone is saved, invoked by Tisaferno to get help in overcoming Rinaldo; but in vain, because “'l sordo suo Macon nulla n'udiva'” (XX.114.2).

    The last actions of war (XX.143) are confined to the Egyptian camp, while the poet reminds us that the city is already liberated. Goffredo “scioglie il voto” on the “Gran Sepolcro” (XX.144.8), wearing his mantle stained with enemy blood, confirming by this image the important link between the theme of piety and of arms presented in the first line of the poem. Only four lines before, Tasso's keen concern with allusiveness of meaning in every detail has led him to specify that “ormai sol resta / piccolo avanzo del gran campo estinto” (XX.140.1-2) and Altamoro is “con mezza spada e con mezzo elmo in testa / da cento lancie ripercosso e cinto” (XX.140.5-6).

  10. He resembles in this the black devil who carries elders of Santa Zita, in the fifth ‘bolgia’ of the VIII circle in Dante's Inferno (“con l'ali aperte e sovra i piè leggero” [XXI.33]).

  11. The mission of Vafrino begins in XIX.56.5 and ends with canto XIX.131.

  12. The one who reveals this news to Vafrino is Erminia (“Son—gli divisa—otto guerrier di corte, / tra quali il più famoso è Ormondo il forte” [XIX.86.7-8]). She is the same modest and bashful girl who in this penultimate canto undergoes a big change, because she declares openly her love for Tancredi and reveals herself resolute as never before. This is another constructional-functional element of wonder tightly linked with the flow of the action.

  13. To one piece of trickery is opposed another, as Raimondo explains: “Così la fraude a te palese fatta / sarà da quel medesmo in chi s'appiatta” (XIX.129.7-8). The success of the Christian counter-move will lead, at the proper time, to a true massacre of the eight deceiving warriors: “Va in tanti pezzi Ormondo e i suoi consorti / che il cadavero pur non resta ai morti” (XX.46.7-8).

  14. Functionally speaking, Vafrino is important for two main reasons, arising from within the situation in which he finds himself. One is that he finds out how the eight cavalrymen of the Egyptian army intend to kill Goffredo. The other is, in a word, the reopening and closing again of the theme of adventure and its linking once more to the theme of arms, even though there is no substantial dysfunction between the two; this implies an addition of merging effects. Vafrino, too, as a ‘minor’ but important character, passes through brief moments of uncertainty as he ponders (“sospeso e dubbio” [XIX.65.6], he is called when he is to be compelled in a more analytic way to discover how the Egyptians will prepare their trick). His problem will come in investigating what he has discovered.

    Vafrino's sense of reality (see XIX.119 and XIX.120) in managing things and persons alternates sometimes with the same sly-comic spirit that will reach a higher, more complex level of humor in some minor characters of Shakespeare's plays. We see here when Vafrino fears being recognized in his real identity by Erminia, who is approaching him, and whom he has not yet recognized, and determines to present himself as a braggart squire: “Anch'io / vorrei d'alcuna bella esser campione, / e troncar pensarei co'l ferro mio / il capo o di Rinaldo o del Buglione, / Chiedila pure a me, se n'hai desio, / la testa d'alcun barbaro barone” (XIX.78.1-6). Here the simulation is perfect, because additionally the term “barbaro” is employed by Vafrino in a sense just opposite to its usual meaning. The exploratory expedition of Vafrino, on a minor scale, but in a well-pondered way, is parallel to Rinaldo's to Armida (which on the contrary is an impassioned one with no practical target). Vafrino, too, is useful to the army and to the crusade; and this without the risk of his evading the duty of returning to his army. In his case, the variety or diversity that makes the inner movement of the text more complex lies in Vafrino's not being one of the main characters of the army, but an almost random character invented, we might say, at the last moment. And Vafrino is able not only to give a judgment about the opposing army he has investigated (XIX.122.1-4); he also reminds Rinaldo of the three most valiant among them (Altamoro, Adrasto, Tisaferno) who will have a large part in the action of canto XX.

  15. The secret action of Vafrino is represented, as it happens, in very rapid strokes (“l'arti e gli ordini osserva” [XIX.60.4]; “spia gli occulti disegni” [XIX.60.6]; he locks into the inside of the tent of the enemy's captain, which is torn “si che i secreti del signor mal cela” [XIX.61.5] and “mille ripensa inusitate frodi” [XIX.76.2]). Not to be forgotten is the fact that the weapons of those who will try to kill Goffredo are defined “mentite,” that is, ‘treacherous’ (“l'arme mentite” [XIX.65.1]; “e quali sieno le mentite arme” [XIX.65.8]), a word which, to the reader of good memory, is posed, of course, in linked opposition to the “armi pietose” that from the first canto on only the Crusaders have in their hands.

  16. The Egyptian camp is the mass that is going to surround the former besiegers, the Christians. But at the same time this mass brings up the idea of a strong, compact entity, immediately after an analogous one, that of the city, which has been crushed. In a word, everything tells us that the Egyptian camp, in view of the changing situation, will press the Crusaders afterwards from the outside; also, that this mass is rising as a double of the forcefulness, impulse, energy and solidity that the city, as a structure defending itself, has already lost. Vafrino will not circle the Egyptian camp in order to enter it unseen. He will take the straightest way in and enter into a new situation, in which, beside opposing troops and enemy strength, hidden trickery is growing: “Spia gli occulti disegni e parte intende” (XIX.60.6). Together with the idea of a new menace approaching (“a vista fu del poderoso campo” [XIX.57.8]) there is also an idea of rich forces and varied colours which by themselves contrast with the uniformity of those belonging to the besieged in Jerusalem. Hence variety and concentration together: “Qui l'Africa tutta / traslata viene e qui l'Asia è condutta” (XIX.58.7-8).

  17. See, for example, not only the formulas of simple coincidence of events (the dawn of the new day and the attack on the city in XVIII.64.1-2), the participation of nature in the renewal of a military action (“Non fu mai l'aría si serena e bella” [XX.5.3-8]), but also the more complex chronological indications (“già pur da ritener tempo non parmi” [XVIII.54.1]; “Ma i Franchi pria che 'l terzo di sia giunto” [XVIII.61.1-2]; “Del di cui de l'assalto il di successe” [XVIII.62.1-2]).

  18. Già la morte, o il consiglio, o la paura” (XIX.1.1) and “Già il sole avea desti i mortali a l'opre” (XX.1.1) are the emphatic canto openings, suggestive of a void left behind.

  19. The strict duality of Gildippe and Odoardo puts almost a symbolic seal upon the fading out of biological distinctions (masculine-feminine) in the face of death. At the start of the description of them, wonder arises from the perfectly blended correlation of their acts in fighting (“Arte di schermo nova e non più udita,” etc., of stanza 36 of canto XX); then wonder comes from the shifting of these signs into those of the shroud in which death envelops them (“Vorrian formar né pon formar parole, / forman sospiri di parole in vece: / l'un mira l'altro, e l'un pur come sòle / si stringe a l'altro mentre ancor ciò lece: / e si cela in un punto ad ambi il die, / e congiunte se 'n van l'anime pie” [XX.100.3-8]). But, at the same time wonder at what is called ‘mixture’ may rise from what is said about Ardonio, who falls under the strokes of Altamoro and “ridea sforzato e si moria ridendo” (XX.39.8); from the mix of the dead and the living, which catches our eye before the middle of the last canto (“Giace il cavallo al suo padrone appresso / giace il compagno appo il compagno estinto, / giace il nemico appo il nemico, e spesso / su 'l morto il vivo, il vincitor su 'l vinto, / Non v'è silenzio e non v'è grido espresso, / ma odi un non so che roco e indistinto: / fremiti di furor, mormorî d'ira, / gemiti di chi langue e di chi spira” [XX.51]); and the change from the gleam to the foulness of the arms during the battle (XX.52) and the nearby, parallel vision of Solimano looking upon the “tragedia dello stato umano” (XX.73.1-6); or even the idea expressed of a kingdom, the soil of which is no longer ruled, but instead bitten, at the moment when he, too, falls, no longer reigning, and dies (“il re cade e con singulto orrendo / la terra ove regnò morde morendo” [XX.89.7-8]), and finally the complex interweaving of feelings that replaces Armida in a dramatic position, just at the moment when she again sees Rinaldo in the battle (both described with functional obviousness linked to their characters and made too evident in its rational outline: Rinaldo [enemy] goes against the Pagans [enemies] to deal them death, but saves Armida [enemy/friend] from death and in doing so, from the point of view of Armida, causes her new death); where the play, the network of rising and contrasting reasons is presented as an aesthetic act, as one of inlay and syncretic moving action.

  20. Fortune is, in explicit words, evoked through Vafrino's exploit, which allows the Christians to know the ways in which the Egyptians plan to kill Goffredo (“Fortuna alfin (quel che per sé non pote) / isviluppò d'ogni suo dubbio i nodi, / sì ch'ei distinto e manifesto intese / come l'insidie al pio Buglion sian tese” [XIX.76.5-8]). This occurs thanks to the lucky encounter with Erminia. And once again, in this canto, aggressive femininity and delicate, bashful femininity brush against each other in the characters of Erminia and Armida, then partly blend.

  21. The full picture of Christian violence is given in two stanzas, the 29th and the 30th, of canto XIX: “l'ira de' vincitor trascorre ed erra / per la città su 'l popolo 'nocente” (29.3-4) and in a more detailed description: “Fuggian premendo i pargoletti al seno / le meste madri co' capegli sciolti, / e 'l predator, di spoglie e di rapine / carco, stringea le vergini nel crine” (30.5-8) where one can see Tasso's delicate skill in linguistic choices operating even in describing violence.

    Nevertheless, Christian violence, as represented by Tasso, does not exclude an idea that it may occur justifiably: “Rende misera strage atra e funesta / l'alta magion che fu magion di Dio. / O giustizia del Ciel, quanto men presta / tanto più grave sovra il popol rio! / Dal tuo secreto proveder fu desta / l'ira ne' cor pietosi, e incrudeìo. / Lavò co'l sangue suo l'empio pagano / quel tempio che già fatto avea profano” (XIX.38). Thus, “pietose” (holy) arms become for a moment arms used by pitying hearts turned cruel through “giustizia del ciel” (God's justice).

  22. At first, in their rhythmic way of using the sword against their enemies (“Arte di scherma nova e non più udita / a i magnanimi amanti usar vedresti: oblia di sé la guardia, é l'altrui vita / difende intentamente e quella e questi. / Ribatte i colpi la guerriera ardita / che vengono al suo caro aspri e molesti” [XX.36.1-6], etc.); then when they expire, in the merging of their deaths.

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