Pietro Buonaventura, one of the great masters of modern Italian poetry, was born at Rome on the 3rd of January 1698. Though the son of a poor artisan named Trapassi, he had nevertheless for his godfather the Cardinal Pietro Ottoboni, who gave to the infant his own Christian name. The young Trapassi had scarcely attained the age of ten, when his poetical talent displayed itself by his surprising improvisations. One day when a crowd of persons had assembled around him in the Campus Martius, the celebrated jurisconsult Gravina approached, and having listened to his performance, bestowed on it some just commendations; after which he offered the boy a piece of money, which the latter nobly refused. Gravina, not less delighted with his spirit than charmed with his genius, went immediately to the father of the boy, and without much difficulty persuaded him to abandon all concern about the education of his son, whom he undertook to instruct; and, in point of fact, the generous jurisconsult taught him the elements of Greek, Latin, and Italian literature. By a singular caprice, the young man changed his name of Trapassi into that of Metastasio, which, in Greek, has the same signification; and, according to the Roman usage, he prefixed to it the title of Abbate. Gravina, though chiefly devoted to the study of legislation, was also addicted to poetry, in the cultivation of which he sought relief from graver and more laborious pursuits. Being particularly attached to the Greek drama, he aspired to the glory of reviving it in Italy; and he had already published five tragedies, on the ancient model, when he became convinced that his pupil was much better qualified than himself for the execution of this grand project. At his instigation, accordingly, Metastasio, though as yet only fourteen years of age, composed his Giustino, the great defect of which is too servile an imitation of the ancients; and at the same time, for his own satisfaction, he amused himself in translating portions of the Iliad into Italian verse. Nevertheless, Gravina, concerned about the fortune of his pupil, wished that with the cultivation of letters Metastasio should combine the study of jurisprudence. To this austere occupation the young poet sacrificed with regret the time which he was forced to take from the muses; but Gravina died suddenly, leaving the greater part of his property to his adopted son; and Metastasio, though not yet twenty years of age, thus found himself master of a considerable fortune. In an elegy entitled La Strada della Gloria, he bewailed the death of his benefactor, for whose memory he cherished the most ardent and sincere regard; but the numerous acquaintance whom his talents and fortune procured him soon distracted his attention, whilst they consumed his time; and so inconsiderately did the youth abandon himself to this agitated life, that, at the end of two years, he found he had made more creditors than friends, the bequest of his patron being by this time nearly exhausted.

In these circumstances, he took the resolution of quitting Rome; and, in 1721, went to establish himself at Naples, in which city he began to devote himself entirely to the theatre. Here a distinguished actress, called La Romanina, contributed so much to the success of his first attempts in the drama, that his gratitude for her exertions soon assumed the character of attachment. Apostolo Zeno, Corneille, and Racine, now became the objects of his continual study. This is attested by several of his Italian biographers, particularly by Mauro Boni, who has written with great care the literary life of the poet; and hence it is not easy to discover upon what authority Schlegel has alleged that Metastasio, in order to preserve his originality pure, boasted of having carefully avoided consulting the masterpieces of the French stage. It was also at Naples, and for La Romanina, that the young poet composed his famous Didone abbandonata, which was represented for the first time in the year 1724. The success of this production is inconceivable. All the great cities of Italy vied with one another in the pomp and splendour of the representations; and the country was deserted by its population, which rushed in a body to witness the performance of the Didone. Being now in a condition to satisfy his creditors, Metastasio lost no time in returning to Rome. In the eternal city he had no other residence than that of La Romanina, who repeated and sung his verses as soon as he composed them.

His reputation having now become general, the Emperor Charles VI. in the year 1729 offered him the title of Poeta Cesareo, or imperial laureat, with an annual allowance of three thousand florins. In this situation he had the honour to succeed Apostolo Zeno, who himself declared that a better choice could not be made. Before adopting a new country, Metastasio did not neglect the comforts of his family, having secured an asylum for the declining years of his father, and made a provision for each of his sisters. To them also he made over all his income in Italy, and he constantly assisted with his counsel and with his means a younger brother, who followed the profession of advocate at Rome. At length it became necessary to quit La Romanina, and this separation cost him a severe struggle. Having arrived at Vienna in the spring of the year 1730, he had immediately the honour of being presented to the emperor at the castle of Laxenburg. At the particular request of the master of ceremonies to the apostolic nuncio, Niccolo de Martinez, he took up his abode in the residence of that functionary; and it was in this same house that, some years afterwards, fortune brought together, in two chambers situated the one above the other, two men who have filled Europe with their renown, Metastasio and Haydn. But the only benefits which the great musicians, then young and poor, derived from this fortuitous conjunction, were a knowledge of the Italian language, and some counsels as to the best mode of attaining the truly beautiful in art.

The Italian friends of the new imperial laureat had predicted to him, when he quitted Rome, that the cloudy atmosphere of Germany would freeze his imagination; but so far was this from being the case, that it never showed itself more ardent or more prolific. Indeed, one cannot help, even now, feeling some surprise in running over the list of the various works which he composed during the first years of his residence at Vienna, and amongst which may be found several of those that have contributed most to extend his reputation. Such are the Giuseppe Riconosciuto, the Demofonte, and also the Olimpiade, which all Italy agreed to surname the divine. A severe affliction, however, served to temper the exultation of success. His faithful friend La Romanina, the ministering angel of his genius, had sunk into a premature grave. But even in this sorrowful occurrence he found an occasion for exemplifying the innate excellence of his character. That celebrated catatriche had, by her will, left him a legacy of twenty-five thousand Roman crowns, a bequest which he generously renounced in favour of poor Bulgurelli, the almost forgotten husband of La Romanina. Metastasio was engaged upon a new piece, *Attilio Regolo*, when the unexpected death of his august protector disconcerted all his hopes. The Emperor Charles VI had scarcely been consigned to the tomb when his inheritance was disputed by several powers. His daughter, Maria-Theresa, a fugitive, had no longer a court, and still less a theatre. Metastasio, however, took no steps to employ his talents otherwise, and even celebrated by an ingenious production, *Amor Prigioniero*, the birth of the prince who afterwards became Joseph II. It was at this period that Metastasio, though not yet more than forty-three, felt the first symptoms of that nervous malady of which he complained until the close of his career. He soon experienced the most acute pains, and, to aggravate his sufferings, malevolence and calamity tracked his steps. He wished to return to Italy, but could not accomplish his purpose. Having no longer occasion to labour for the theatre, which was shut in consequence of the Seven Years' War, he amused himself with composing a number of cantatas in honour of the young archduchesses; produced *La Contessa de Nani*, in which, whilst celebrating the birth of the son of the Dauphin, he contrives to pay some graceful and flattering compliments to the French nation; and also translated several satires of Juvenal and Horace. In 1760, his muse roused herself to celebrate the marriage of Joseph II. His opera of *Alcide in bivio* delighted the whole court, which fancied in this production it discovered frequent allusions to the character of the young prince.

Being already affluent, and loaded with the honourable marks of regard which had been bestowed upon him, Metastasio no longer stood in need of ordinary favours; but he was nevertheless very sensible of the distinction now conferred upon him by Maria-Theresa, who addressed to him several notes which were written with her own hand, and filled with expressions of kindness and good will. A few of these flattering billets have been preserved. They are written in French; and in one of them this great princess says to the poet, "Mon ancien maître fait la gloire de notre siècle, et plus encore de ceux qui il s'est voué." By degrees, Metastasio withdrew entirely from the world, and discontinued publication; but he by no means abandoned the cultivation of letters. He occupied himself with learned analyses of the Poetics of Aristotle and of Horace; and embodied in notes his luminous observations on Æschylus, Euripides, Sophocles, and Aristophanes. One of the enjoyments of his old age was the publication of the magnificent edition of his works, which was printed at Paris in 1780, under the direction of the learned Pezzana. Several celebrated pieces in that beautiful collection, particularly the *Didone*, the *Adriano*, the *Semiramide*, and the *Alessandro*, were re-touched with extreme care by their illustrious author. He had, in his library, more than forty editions of his works, published at different periods in the first cities of Italy; but he called that of Paris the glory and the crown of his old age.

These literary distinctions were to him the suitable reward of his long-continued labours. He never aspired to any of those dignities which form the ordinary objects of vulgar ambition. The Emperor Charles VI, several times wished to confer upon him the titles of baron and salic councillor; but he always replied that his best title was that of poet to his imperial majesty. The empress also offered him the cross of St Stephen; but he declined the honour, excusing himself by saying, that he had no time to perform the duties of knighthood. When Corillans was crowned in the Capitol, Maria-Theresa expressed a desire to see admitted to the same honour the man who for sixty years had delighted Europe with his harmonious verses; and Pope Clement XIV warmly responded to the wish of the empress. But the poet was inflexible; he replied that he was too old to ascend the Capitol. Nevertheless the most celebrated writers of the age rendered him homage. Voltaire compared certain scenes of Metastasio to the most sublime productions of Greece; he judged them "worthy of Corneille when he is not a declaimer, and of Racine when he is not feeble." Rousseau, in his *Nouvelle Héloïse*, declared that Metastasio was "the only poet of the heart, the only genius formed to excite emotion by the charm of poetical and musical harmony." This great writer merited a still higher encomium; he never replied with the least bitterness, even to the most unjust criticisms; and he was always the first to encourage talent wherever he discovered it. Entertaining a deep conviction of the truths of religion, Metastasio observed its precepts without ostentation; and in his old age, this sincere and unaffected piety enabled him to support his sufferings with greater patience and resignation. In the month of February 1780, he believed that his end was approaching, and wishing to consecrate to God the last efforts of his poetical genius, he traced with a trembling hand, but a devout heart, the touching verses beginning, *Eterno genitor*, &c. His strength returned, however, and he had the grief to survive his august benefactress, who died in the month of November the same year. He was so sincerely attached to her, that, on several occasions, he was heard to exclaim, "Why have I not descended to the tomb with my excellent mistress?" But a great consolation was reserved for him in his last days, inasmuch as he lived to witness the arrival of Pope Pius VI. at Vienna. The sovereign pontiff honoured him with many proofs of his esteem, and, as a last token of regard, caused the nuncio Gerampi to convey to him, upon the day of his death, the apostolical benediction. Metastasio expired on the 24th of April 1782, having attained the advanced age of eighty-four years and three months. He was interred in the church of St Michael; and notwithstanding the formal request expressed in his will, his obsequies were magnificent. M. de Martinez, his heir, immediately caused to be struck in memory of his illustrious friend a medal, with this legend, *Sugheeli Italo*. Of all the portraits of him extant, none is so like the original as that of Heiner, engraved by Mansfield, except it be the bust executed at Vienna by Vinnazar. Metastasio possessed an imposing figure; he was tall and well-proportioned; and his dark eyes had a striking expression. Fortune, indeed, appears to have taken a pleasure in loading him with her favours. Independently of a sumptuous establishment, and a superb library, his succession realized a capital of more than three hundred thousand francs, or above L12,000 sterling.

The poetical works of Metastasio consist of sixty-three lyrical tragedies and operas of various kinds; twelve oratorios; forty-eight cantatas or lyric scenes; a vast number of elegies, idylls, canzonette, sonnets, and such like compositions; and, lastly, translations in verse from Latin authors, including one of Horace's *Art of Poetry*. Amongst his works in prose, besides those already mentioned, may be reckoned a very extensive, interesting, and instructive correspondence. Metastasio has found in France several imitators, who have profited by his dramatic conceptions, particularly Belloy and Delrieu; and Labouisse has likewise imitated in French verse his cantatas, which, in as far as respects their ordinary subject, may as well be classed amongst the pastorals as referred to the head of lyric compositions. From the year 1733 to the present time, there have been innumerable editions of the works of Metastasio, many of them exceedingly defective and incomplete. The most esteemed are the following, viz. 1. Paris, 1755, in twelve vols. 8vo, under the direction of Calzabigi, and dedicated to Madame de Pompadour; 2. Turin, 1757, in fourteen vols. 4to, printed at the royal press, from the preceding edition; 3. Paris, 1760, in twelve vols. large 8vo, under the direction of Pezzana, who accentuated the prosody. for the benefit of French readers; 4. Genoa, 1802, in six thick vols. 8vo, small character, an edition superintended by the poet Massuccio, who enriched it with the posthumous works and uncited pieces published at Vienna in 1795, by Count Ajala, but omitted the correspondence; 5. Padua, 1810. There appeared at Paris in 1761 a French translation of the operatic tragedies by Richelet, in twelve vols. 12mo.

The Italians have almost deified Metastasio; but, excepting on one point, where they have a sort of privative jurisdiction, we may be permitted to question the propriety of this idolatry. In relation to his style, they are the natural, perhaps the only competent judges; and this style they regard as a model of purity, elegance, and harmony. "The style of Metastasio," says an Italian critic, "never fails to please those who give way to their own emotions, more than persons of profound meditation; and I would rather be accused of partiality to him whom I venerate and love, than ranked with cold philosophers and deep thinkers, whom I may respect, but cannot admire." It is in his pieces borrowed from Sacred Scripture that Metastasio has most strikingly exemplified the great beauties of his style. As to the other attributes of his genius, they have been variously estimated by critics. "I know not amongst the moderns," says Laharpe in his Course de Litterature, "a writer more precise than Metastasio. A people who may boast of such a poet cannot say that, if he has attached himself exclusively to music, it is because the words are bad. A lively and intelligent people could never be insensible to the genius of Metastasio, displayed in the interest of the situations, and in the beauty of the dialogue and style. Nevertheless, it was at the court of Vienna, and not in his own country, that this celebrated writer found recompense and honour." But a celebrated German critic, William Schlegel, in his Course of Dramatic Literature, has evinced a much deeper insight into the dramatic system of the Italian poet, and more judiciously discriminated the merits and defects of his works. "The reputation of Metastasio," says he, "has eclipsed that of Apostolo Zeno, because, in proposing to himself the same object, he had a much more flexible talent, and knew better how to accommodate himself to the convenience of the musician. Perfect purity of diction, united with sustained grace and elegance, have caused Metastasio to be regarded by his countrymen as a classical author, and, so to speak, as the Racine of Italy. He is pre-eminently distinguished for exquisite sweetness in the verses which he intended to be sung. Perhaps no poet ever possessed in the same degree the power of concentrating, in a narrow compass, all the most touching traits of a pathetic situation. The lyrical monologues at the end of the scenes are the harmonious expression, at once just and concise, of a particular disposition of the soul. It must be confessed, however, that Metastasio never paints the passions except in very general colours; he does not amalgamate with the sentiments of the heart any thing that appertains to the individual character, or is derived from universal contemplation. Thus his pieces are not very powerfully conceived. When you have read a few of them, you know them all. Yet we must not be too severe. The heroes of Metastasio, it is true, are all gallants; in his heroines, too, delicacy often degenerates into mawkish affectation; but perhaps this effeminate poetry has been blamed from a want of proper attention to the nature of the opera." Justice also requires that, in the peculiar genius of the opera, we should recognise the inevitable cause of that languor and incongruity which too frequently disfigure the most beautiful productions of Metastasio. It is from yielding to the exigencies of this particular species of composition that he has so often violated the law of the unities, disfigured the characters of his heroes, and broken the continuity of his style. He is less excusable in the lavish use of antitheses; but this affectation is a general vice amongst the poets of his country. The lyrical drama, in general, requires a fortunate consummation or denouement; and how often, in order to obey this usage, and to have a brilliant chorus, or a final divertissement, has the poet found himself under the necessity of inverting the tragic action, and denaturalizing his characters? It is painful to think that so many sacrifices to a frivolous fashion have, from the immense development of the musical system which has since taken place, been made altogether in vain.

Of the musical productions of Metastasio two have been engraved; one containing a collection of Canzonì, and the other entitled Ari Sciolte e Coro con Sinfonia. The famous duet Grazie agli Inganni tuei has not yet, as far as we know, been published. The Pensieri di Metastasio, ovvero Sentenze e Massime estratte dalle sue Opere, were collected and published at Paris in the year 1804. (A.)