now, because of the lawsuit, doubly embittered against
him. In his distress he sought refuge in the
Benedictine monastery of Monte Oliveto, which is now
occupied by the offices of the Municipality of Naples,
and the monastery garden converted into a market-place.
Here, in one of the finest situations in Naples, commanding
one of the loveliest views in the world, and in the
congenial society of the monks, his shattered health
was recruited, and his mind tranquillised by the beauties
of Nature and the exercises of religion. He repaid
the kindness of his hosts by writing a poem on the
origin of their Order, and by addressing to them one
of his best sonnets. Among the visitors who sought
him out in this retreat was John Battista Manso, Marquis
of Villa, who afterwards became his biographer.
This accomplished nobleman, “whose name the
friendship and Latin hexameters of Milton have rendered
at once familiar and musical to English ears,”
was by far the kindest and most consistent patron
that Tasso ever met with. He loaded him with
presents, and showed him the most delicate and thoughtful
attentions during Tasso’s visit at his beautiful
villa on the seashore near Naples. He took him
with him to his tower of Bisaccio, where he remained
all October and November, spending his days, with
great advantage to his health, in hunting, and his
nights in music and dancing, taking special delight
in the marvellous performances of the improvisatori.
Milton’s acquaintance with Manso may be regarded
as one of the most fortunate incidents of his foreign
travels, inasmuch as his conversations about Tasso
are supposed to have suggested to him the design of
writing an epic work like the Gerusalemme;
and indeed Milton is supposed to have borrowed some
of his ideas for Paradise Lost from the Sette
Giornate, or Seven Days of Creation, a fragmentary
poem in blank verse, which Tasso began under the roof
of his friend at Naples. This work is now very
little known, but it is worthy of being read, if only
for the lofty dignity of its style, and the beauty
of some of its descriptive parts, particularly the
creation of light on the first day, and of the firmament
on the second, and the episode of the Phoenix on the
fifth. Its association with Milton’s far
grander work, as literary twins laid for a while in
the same cradle, will always invest it with deep interest
to the student.
Tasso occupied himself at the same time with an altered version of his great poem, which he called the Gerusalemme Conquistata. He was induced to undertake this work in order to triumph over his truculent critics, the Della Cruscans, who had condemned the former version. In the Imperial Library at Vienna is preserved the manuscript of this version, with its numerous alterations and erasures, showing how laborious the task of remodelling must have been. He suppressed the touching incident of Olinda and Sophronia. He changed the name of Rinaldo to Riccardo; and ruthlessly swept his pen through