Alfieri’s prose-writings possess no great value, except the _Autobiography_, which is invaluable alike from the interest of the character depicted and of the events narrated, and from its transparent candour. As a rule, the only quite trustworthy autobiographic delineations are the unconscious ones. Pepys has undoubtedly portrayed himself just as he was, but it is equally certain that he had no intention of doing so. Alfieri may or may not have depicted himself as he was, although the portrait is perfectly in harmony with the impression derived from his writings. But he has unquestionably depicted himself as he appeared to himself, and more could not be expected. Alfieri’s minor poems display the “narrow elevation” ascribed by Matthew Arnold to his tragedies. He has little music, fancy, or variety, but expresses strong feeling with unusual energy, especially when moved to wrath: _Was Angelo born here? and he who wove Love’s charm with sorcery of Tuscan tongue Indissolubly blent? and he whose song Laid bare the world below to world above? And he who from his lowly valley clove The azure height and trod the stars among? And he whose searching mind the monarch’s wrong Fount of the people’s misery did prove? Yea, these had birth when men might uncontrolled Speak, read, write, reason with impunity; Not from the chair was cowardice extolled; Not for free thinking would indictment lie; Nor did the city in her Book of Gold Inscribe the name and office of the spy._