It is as though Rinaldo and Ruggiero are represented at this crucial and conclusive combat; and since, as Ariosto continually reminds us, Mandricardo’s armour was originally forged by Vulcan for Hector, the victory of the Christians can be seen also as a final vindication for the Trojans.

Overriding all the minor patterns of intricacy resolved is the master pattern of the entire poem. By the end of Canto XXIII we are left with three main stories which appear to be developing in different directions: Orlando’s madness, the love of Bradamante and Ruggiero, and the war between the Christians and the Infidel. Their resolution appears to be impeded by a whole series of subordinate stories: Rinaldo’s love for Angelica, Astolfo’s journeys on the hippogriff, Fiordiligi’s quest for Brandimarte, Isabella’s grief at Zerbino’s death, Rodomonte’s fury on being jilted by Doralice, Marfisa’s discovery of her identity, the discord among the pagans described above, to mention only a few. In reality, it is these other strands which serve to bring the complexities of the poem gradually and inevitably to a point of convergence, rather as the many ropes cast about the body of the frenzied Orlando serve to bring him under control and thus capable of being restored to sanity. Gradually too, as the stories come together, more and more prominence is given to the surmounting of obstacles which impede the marriage of Ruggiero and Bradamante, the ancestors of the House of Este, as Aeneas was the ancestor of Augustus. The abrupt conclusion of the wedding feast, and of the poem, with the death of Rodomonte is a final echo of Virgil who ends the Aeneid abruptly with the death of Turnus.

II. THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE POEM

It is often said that as the poem progressed during the twenty-five years or so which went to its composition the later cantos took on an increasingly sombre tone.1 Marganorre’s savage treatment of women, Drusilla’s melodramatic revenge and Theodora’s determination to put Ruggiero to a cruel death are three examples which are cited. There is some truth in this, yet the evil machinations of Pinabello, Polinesso and especially Gabrina bear comparison with later lurid interludes. It could probably be shown that there is, blow for blow, rather less violence in the second half of the poem than in the first. Not even the atrocities committed by the deranged Orlando approach the ferocious deeds of Rodomonte in his attack on Paris.

Yet a development does occur and it is one which affects the poem in all its aspects. Whatever the nature of the episodes, tragic or comic, heroic or romantic, there is a gradual heightening of style. The stanzas become richer in texture, revealing the hand of an experienced artist. The senses are regaled with ever more colour and splendour, emotions are evoked more keenly and over a wider range, the imagination is held by increasingly elaborate allusions and comparisons.

These mature qualities of Ariosto’s later style are already evident in the story of Olimpia, especially in the description of her beauty.1 They are to be seen also in the expression of Isabella’s grief (of far greater depth than her earlier laments to Orlando in the cave); in the relentless attack on Rinaldo by the monster symbolizing jealousy (Ariosto’s masterpiece in this genre); in the imagery of precious stones by which Bradamante expresses her fidelity to Ruggiero; in the midnight battle between Gradasso’s fleet and Agramante’s escaping ships, illumined by the glare of flames; in the complex and sustained debates; in the dramatic intensity of the dilemma of Ruggiero; in the playful fantasies of boulders which change to horses and of leaves which, cast upon the water, turn to ships. Everyone who reads the poem will come to have a private anthology of favourite passages, but whatever selection is made a deeper awareness of life and of art will be found to characterize the later cantos.

There is an important exception: religion continues throughout to be treated with the lightest possible touch. The prayers and fasting of both armies before the siege of Biserta are related with a levity which recalls the bargaining of Charlemagne with God before the siege of Paris. Three pagans are converted and baptized in the course of events : Marfisa, Ruggiero and Sobrino. Only one ceremony of baptism is described, that of Marfisa, which is performed at the court of Charlemagne by Archbishop Turpin, no less. In this brief scene, ecclesiastical and imperial splendour somewhat overshadows the spiritual. Ruggiero is brought to Christ by the hermit who awaits him on an island where, like Odysseus, he scrambles ashore after being shipwrecked. This episode is related with a simple devoutness which is almost convincing, except that the reader cannot help suspecting that Ariosto is smiling. This is clearly the case when Sobrino is converted on witnessing the miraculous repair of Oliver’s broken ankle and the instant healing of his own wounds. Miracles are treated in the same spirit as magic, the palace in the Terrestrial Paradise is not more splendid than Logistilla’s or Prester John’s, and St John the Evangelist himself is more interesting on the subject of writers and patrons than on religion.

Ariosto loses none of his philosophy of humour with advancing age. The word ‘irony’ is often used in this connection, but it seems a heavy-handed term for the irrepressible laughter which bubbles forth at incongruous moments. His zest for life remains undiminished; it is manifest in his delight in the absurd, in his witty and subtle double meanings, in his joy in friendship and above all in the pleasure he takes in shaping his eight-line stanzas to suit the requirements of his vast and varied themes. ‘Parva sed apta mihi’ is how Ariosto described his house in Ferrara.1 The words are also appropriate to what he ultimately made of the ottava.

III. REALITY AND FANTASY

One of the most remarkable features of the art of Ariosto is the precision with which he represents the real world in which he sets his other world of legend and fantasy. This is particularly relevant to the geography. A pattern of totality is in evidence here also; it seems to be Ariosto’s desire to take the entire earth as a stage for his events, with the moon as an extension. Just as he may have used models to plan the moves of the combats, and possibly a table mock-up for the sieges of Paris and Biserta, so it is highly probable that he used maps to plot and keep track of the journeys by land, by sea and by air. So precise are his indications that an Ariosto world tour could be organized by an enterprising travel agency.