Torquato Tasso, if his name rings any bells at all, is best known for his epic poem Jerusalem Delivered. Its subject matter is the tail end of the First Crusade, when Godfrey of Bouillon helped lead Christian forces in the reconquest of the prized city. Though broadly adhering to historical facts, Tasso throws in plenty of dazzling scenes of invention. None of this is particularly surprising: it’s poetry after all, and it’s not exactly like Milton told the story of the Biblical Satan. At any rate, his highly entertaining poem was published in 1581, when Tasso was 44. It’s not quite up there with Dante’s Divine Comedy and a handful of other epics, but it’s stupendous nonetheless. Reading it would not be a bad use of time.
But 26 years earlier, while still a teenager, Torquato Tasso penned Rinaldo, his first epic poem. That too, is worth reading. As one would expect, it’s much below the level of his later work, but for all its missteps and moments of clunkiness, it’s a fun poem, full of energy, and bursting at the seams with lively and inventive episodes. It’s the work of a tremendous poet in the making.
Rinaldo, the poem’s protagonist, agonizes over the fact that his cousin, Orlando — the famous knight and valiant fighter par excellence — is always in the spotlight. And with good reason. Orlando’s been fighting in Charlemagne’s wars, killing bad guys left and right, bringing fame and conquest to his king, while Rinaldo…well, isn’t doing any of those things. He’s simply not up to Orlando’s level. The disparity between their two lives drives Rinaldo crazy, yet he can’t get out of his state of inertia. So deflated and psychologically tormented is Rinaldo, that he leaves Paris (his home), and essentially gives up on life. He feels like a worthless schmuck.
The story told in Rinaldo, then, is how Rinaldo slowly progresses out of this state, building himself into someone more worthy. It’s a story of adventure and the desire for fame and recognition — knights wanting to do amazing knightly things. But Tasso’s Rinaldo is about more than physical battles; it’s about love and romance and their overwhelming visceral elements — which, at times, make them seem nearly as arduous as any physical feat. The poem follows in the footsteps of some of Tasso’s predecessors, not least Ludovico Ariosto, a fellow Italian poet born about 70 years earlier, and the author of Orlando Furioso.
Before highlighting some scenes of Rinaldo and the features which makes it so fun to read, it’s worth saying just a few things about Tasso himself.
Born in 1544, in Sorrento, Italy, the poet experienced considerable ups and downs during the course of his 51 years. At times Tasso was highly functional, not only in the realm of his creative endeavors, but with various court activities. Later in life, however, his mind spiraled out of control. (More on that in a moment.) His father, Bernardo, was himself a poet, who composed the formidable Amadigi. But as with other father-son artistic relationships in history, this would turn out to be a case of the child surpassing the father. If Torquato Tasso’s works are not particularly well known today, his father’s are infinitely less so.
That said, authors frequently receive different receptions at different points in time; and, interestingly enough, Torquato himself came to obsess over what he viewed as significant problems with his major work, Jerusalem Delivered. In fact, it kind of drove him crazy (though his descent into a less-than-healthy mental disposition involved other factors). Nonetheless, he ended up in an asylum for a number of years. Though he didn’t die there, the rest of his life was not exactly ideal. The final stage of his life was a rather dismal end for someone of such enormous talent.
But alas, some more about his great poem Rinaldo, after a brief caveat to help eliminate a burden that might hinder one from settling into it.
Tasso’s poem — especially the first time through — can feel like a bit of a dizzying mishmash of episode piled on top of episode. And, to be honest, it kind of is. Maybe that’s a weakness, maybe it’s not; but one will struggle to find much of a homebase, so to speak, throughout the poem’s twelve cantos. We are never in one place for long; and, similarly, while the poem does contain a small cast of main characters, there’s a plethora of other characters who appear and disappear in less than the time it’d take to don a suit of knightly armor — leaving one wondering what names are particularly important to keep in mind, and which ones not so much. But as long one is aware of this aspect of the poem, then enjoying the energy of the narrative and the beauty of some Tasso’s best scenes is what matters.
So, with that out of the way, on to the poem and its many goodies.
Rinaldo, as mentioned, features a knight of the same name who is on a quest for martial fame — and, soon enough, also a quest for his love object. A chance encounter with a beautiful maiden named Clarice is love at first sight. These are weighty things, of course, and as each of us knows, hindrances to our desires are apt to bring out a smorgasbord of traits within us, both good and bad. And indeed Rinaldo is sometimes a likeable character, sometimes decidedly not. He bumbles and fumbles frequently throughout the poem, unable to control himself, think clearly, or buoy his spirits when he needs to.
But neither, at times, could swift-footed Achilles and pius Aeneas. Just like them, Rinaldo needs a bit of help. (Sometimes a lot, actually; he’s quite a moody fellow.) Tasso uses the figure of Malagis to perform this guidance-like role. A cousin of Rinaldo’s, Malagis is also a magician with no shortage of clever ways to intervene when needed. We never learn all that much about him, but when Tasso plops him down into a scene, it frequently makes for some of the most fun and fantastic parts of the poem.
Tasso is also terrific at using his small cast of characters to echo or illuminate Rinaldo’s particular situation. Nearly every character in the poem — including its fleeting minor ones — are in some way wrapped up in the pangs of love and desire. Rinaldo’s sidekick through much of the poem, a young man named Florindo, finds himself dealing with his status as a lowly shepherd and his desire for a high-born princess. He’s so infatuated with her that during an annual festival for Venus, he purposefully trips during the footrace so that he can fall into the body of his beloved, who is holding the trophy. That’s not the only clever trick he employs to get himself near Olinda, but you’ll have to read the poem if you want to know another of his inventive ploys (which provides one of the few comedic moments in Tasso’s epic).
More than anything, it’s Rinaldo’s individual episodes, rather than the overall plot, that make it a pleasure to read. The stuff in between can sometimes lag, or feel not terribly interesting, but in the dozen or so episodes that Tasso crafts — often with heavy allusions to other poets, e.g., Ovid and Virgil — there’s a sparkling vividness and scene setting that draws you in. You’re placed in a distinct environment, and for the span of those pages, you become completely engrossed in the substory.
On one of many of Rindalo’s and Florindo’s journeys, for instance, they come across a man utterly absorbed in grief, as he and a host of others (also entranced in grief) conglomerate around a sepulcher in a dreary forest. Tasso describes the scene, and the story of the mourner’s plight, with wonderful detail and wonderful emotional poignancy.
It’s also in the episodic parts of the narrative that Tasso frequently checks off the list of things commonplace in epics. One such element is the revelation of the future. In some epics, this happens in the underworld (Aeneas visiting his father and then learning of prominent Romans, e.g.). No underworld is presented in Rinaldo, but when its protagonist and Florindo visit a place called the Inn of Courtesy, Tasso uses the occasion to have Eurydice, their guide, show them a gallery or portraits of famed men and women to come.
But lest I inadvertently make Tasso’s poem sound perhaps too outlandish, or like it’s only these kinds of episodes that make it entertaining, the reader will, indeed, still care about the overall plot and what happens to Rinaldo. The most consistent thread of the story — Rinaldo’s quest to be with Clarice — is given plenty of attention. By the final page, we might ask ourselves in what ways Rinaldo does, or doesn’t change by the end of the poem — or just how complex of a character he really is — but it’s worth repeating that Tasso was just 18 when he wrote it. That’s phenomenal. Granted, prior poets and traditions provided him with a framework and certain ingredients, but the emotional resonance and creative episodes that Tasso produces is remarkable for someone of that age.
Rinaldo is no Odyssey or Aeneid, for sure, but it’s the first major poem by one of the finest poets of any age. Don’t overlook it.
Spectatio 